Nick and his father walked in silence for several blocks, making sure to take as many turns as possible to throw any potential pursuers.
"Hey, mind getting these cuffs off me?" Robin asked as he struggled a little.
"Sorry, I'm just following protocol." Nick replied as he pulled the chain between the cuffs.
Robin shrugged and, in a smooth motion that took Nick by surprise, Robin had managed to encircle him with his cuffed hands, somehow managing to get behind his son. Before Nick could react, Robin knocked him out with a quick choke.
Waking up back at the hideout with an ice pack tied around his neck, Nick slammed his hands on the bed and buried his face in his hands, berating himself for not being more careful.
He groggily stepped out into the courtyard where Robin was seated with the mortgage papers, his back facing Nick. The firepit was lit and there was an empty chair next to him.
"Have a seat, Nick."
Nick frowned and walked over, sitting heavily on the lawn chair.
"I don't appreciate being choked." Nick snarled as he adjusted his icy 'scarf'.
"So sorry about that, but I can't let you find out how to get here. I could teach you how to do that, if you want."
Robin waited for a moment. When it was clear that Nick was too furious to say anything, he folded up the mortgage receipt and tucked it into the pocket of his own bath robe.
"I'll be holding onto this, then. It'll make a good bargaining chip."
Nick reached over and took the papers from his father's pocket. Robin didn't stop his son.
"Listen, I'll let you keep that if you'll listen to what I have to say."
Nick looked up from the mortgage receipt and into the fire, lost in his own sad thoughts. Then, he nodded.
"Good. I'm sure you've heard of the Hood Charity, haven't you?"
Nick nodded again. It wasn't that massively well-known, but the charity had always been rather close to Nick's heart. It helped him through some rather tough times, but ultimately it was just a bandage on an ever-growing wound. In the past few years, the charity had indeed fallen on some rather harsh times, with its founder and primary donator going missing, but they managed to get by and help those in need.
"Well, I founded it."
Nick turned to look at his father with doubtful eyes.
"Don't believe me? Here," He took out several more receipts from his other pocket and unfolded them, offering them to Nick, "I found them a few minutes ago."
Nick read through the papers. Mostly, they were just receipts of transactions. Nothing that would really imply what Robin was saying was true.
Then, one particular piece stood out from the rest.
It was handwritten.
In fact, after a certain point, every old and torn receipt was written by hand on notebook paper detailing every family helped and how best to split the fund. Many familiar names from Nick's childhood surfaced in these papers and, eventually, he found his own name within the lines. By then, every paper carried the ZPD's logo and was folded as if it was stuffed into an envelope.
"It wasn't easy, but for the first few years, I managed to get the receipts out to my charity. It worked until they eventually sent me to a higher security cell." His voice grew more somber as he spoke, "I saw many familiar faces in there. Faces that I thought I'd helped. Faces that had so much joy and hope as children whenever I stopped by their homes. I watched them come in, go out, and come in again in a matter of months."
Robin sighed and slumped a little.
"At least I'm glad I never got to see you with me in those years in jail" He turned to Nick and smiled warmly, "I might not like the fact that you became a cop, but I'm just glad that you didn't end up in there with me."
"Prove it." Nick folded up the papers and held them on his lap, looking straight into the flames.
"Excuse me?" Robin asked, slightly taken aback.
"Prove that you didn't just make these while I was unconscious." Nick held up the receipts and waved them about. Robin frowned.
"After all that, you still don't trust me-"
Suddenly, through the shadowy forests, dozens of howls rang out as yellow eyes blinked into existence like fireflies in the night.
Nick looked at the sea of eyes, then at Robin.
"Is Judy still here?"
"No, she's at our other safehouse."
"Well, that's good."
They looked at the eyes which had gotten bigger. A low-pitched growl surrounded them as Badgerson shouted for his guards to get the foxes.