Tim pushed his cycle up to seventy miles an hour. It may have been illegal on that particular road—scratch that, it most definitely was—but he seriously doubted that a cop was about to pull him over any time soon. Besides, didn't superheroes technically get a pass on this kind of thing, kind of like patrol cars and firetrucks?
Bart's call had been frantic. He reached up to press a button on the side of his helmet and replayed the distress call.
~Hey! Rob! Hate to bother you buddy but we're kinda under attack and we could really use some backup over here get here fast like faster than me okay? I don't—"~
There was a series of bangs and pops that made the signal crackle with feedback, and Bart's voice fell silent over the recording.
But not before Kid Flash let out a bloodcurdling scream.
At that, Tim pushed it up to seventy-five.
He'd downplayed the situation to Dick and Babs. The last thing he needed was his older siblings on this. How could the Titans take him seriously as a leader if he needed big brother and sister to bail him out every time something like this came up? They already babied him shamelessly. He'd heard L'gann make a few snide remarks about it the other day after Nightwing asked him to double check his shoulder and knee pads. His face flushed at the memory.
The tower loomed on the horizon, standing like a guardian giant over Jump City. Since it wasn't leaking clouds of smoke, or smoldering like a birthday candle, Tim figured the damage couldn't be too bad. Then again, he hadn't seen the inside yet.
As soon as he pulled up to Titan's Tower, he dismounted, almost sending his cycle screeching across the pavement, and dashed through the front entrance.
There was nobody in the main lobby. It gaped, dark and deserted, like an empty cave. There was absolute silence. He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the common room. As the floor lifted up, he stared self consciously into the security camera hanging in the top corner. It gazed back at him, unblinking. So far, no fires, no signs of forced entry. Even so, his heart still thumped in his chest.
The doors dinged open, and Robin stepped out.
The common room was in complete disarray. The couches had been shredded and overturned, chairs had been thrown against the wall. The wall, in fact, was dotted with bullet holes and burn marks. There was a stain on the carpet that Tim could see, with a lurch in his stomach, was blood.
"Kid Flash?" he called, "Cassie?"
No one was in the snack nook. The jars of dry foods had been shattered by gunfire. Broken glass and snacks littered the floor like confetti that crunched under Robin's feet. There was no activity from the rock wall; the harnesses hung empty like nooses from the ceiling, and bits of the wall were scattered everywhere. The shattered TV screen was black and missing the usual satellite of male Titans (and Steph, who usually showed up to kick everyone else's butts at Kill Order 6).
Nothing.
He stepped around the carcass of a couch and almost stepped on Bart. Tim fell to his knees and pressed a finger against Bart's neck, searching for a pulse. The speedster's forehead was slicked with blood, the red made black by the dim light.
"Hey, man," Tim whispered, shaking Bart's shoulder, pressing his finger harder into his throat. "Come on."
There was a flicker under Tim's finger. The pulse was weak, but it was there. Bart was only unconscious, not dead.
Nearby, he spotted a flash of gold. Cassie lay nearby, in the exact same state as Bart. Tim crawled over the broken glass and couch stuffing to check her for any sign of a heartbeat. Her eyes cracked open slightly, and she let out a dry moan.
"Cassie?" Tim whispered. Her eyes cleared a little, and she rasped.
"Robin?...the others…are they?" She fell silent as her head lolled back, eyes shutting.
Her pulse still fluttered. He sat up on his haunches.
"Beast Boy?" He called hopefully, "Beetle?"
In the darkness, there came a low laugh, and Tim whipped out his Bo staff.
"Ah," a voice said, "Jaime. Now there's a guy I'd like to put a bullet through."
Tim hopped to his feet, and brandished his staff.
"Who are you? What did you do to my team?"
Silence. Then,
"Don't worry so much, Timmy, boy. I didn't bother with any kill shots."
Tim had taken a lot of sucker punches over the past two years. At the moment of impact, all breath would leave his body, and a painful sunburst would bloom right where he'd been hit. Hearing his name come out of the mouth of this stranger had the same effect.
"How-?"
"Oh, I know a lot about you, pal. I know about all of you."
Tim reached down to press the button on his belt, but a bang went off, and a bullet hit the floor right next to his boot.
"Now, now. No calling Dickie or Babs."
"What do you want?"
"Well, that's easy. I just want you."
Gunfire erupted, and Robin flipped and dove to escape the hail of bullets. Black holes appeared in the floor, and one bullet struck Robin's bicep, grazing but not penetrating. He cried out, and the bullets stopped. He dove behind one of the couches, and placed a hand against the wound, wincing at the sting. "Why?" he panted. Blood seeped over his fingers, trickling and falling in droplets to the floor.
"You'll see."
He peeked over the top of the couch, and when his head wasn't taken off by a bullet, he rose to full height. A figure appeared in the entrance to the hallway. As the man stepped forward into the light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he got a better look at the intruder. He wore a red helmet and holsters for guns. A biker jacket covered a muscled armor bound chest. The intruder fit the description that Dick and Barbara had given him.
"Red Hood," Tim wheezed, taking a step back. The criminal made a sound at the back of his throat.
"Huh. Big brother and sister tell you about me? Or maybe daddybats?"
"The 'red hood' kinda gives it away," He placed a supporting hand on the back of the couch. "Gotta wonder about your creativity, though. It's like Batman calling himself 'pointy ears'."
Hood laughed. "Good. I was starting to worry you wouldn't have a sense of humor. That's important for a Robin. Still," he hooked his thumbs in his jacket pockets and looked Tim up and down. "I can't believe Brucie chose you as his new little feathered sidekick."
Tim's eyes narrowed. "What the heck are you talking about?"
Hood sighed. "Clearly it wasn't for your brains. Do you honestly have no idea? Or did the others never bother to mention little old me?"
There was a soft hiss, and the Hood's hands went up to his head. He removed the helmet, revealing a hard face underneath.
Tim dropped his Bo staff.
"Jason," he said to the man grinning back at him, "Jason Todd."
The man seemed a little taken aback, but nodded. "Very good. And how did you know that, Replacement?"
Tim took two steps back, his shoulder blades pressed to the glass of the window.
"You're kidding, right? You're the Robin that died in the line of duty." He let out a dry laugh. "You're the reason Nightwing never lets me out of his sight and Batgirl always makes sure I wear a coat when it's raining." The sarcasm in his voice was heavy, but it slipped up into something more respectful. "You were the strong Robin. The one everyone else wants me to be."
Hood's eyes narrowed.
"Oh," Tim continued, reaching slowly, ever so slowly down towards his belt. "I've tried. I've tried so hard to live up to your example, man. Everyone expects me to be you and Nightwing combined. Or better."
Jason cracked a smile at that.
"You blab a lot, kid. But I've got a mission for you. Think you can handle it?"
He leapt at Tim, who dodged to the side, rolling behind the couch. He waited there, gauging the distance to the exit. Twelve feet. If he sprinted, he could probably make it in a few seconds. But how much faster was he than the Red Hood?
He tensed, ready to run for it, but Jason came out of nowhere.
As hands wrapped around his throat from behind, squeezing, Tim gurgled until his vision went black.
#######
Bruce, Alfred, Dick and Barbara were in the middle of an intense game of Monopoly when the phone rang.
"Ah, Wingnut," Barbara sighed, grinning, "I believe that's five hundred and twenty-five big ones."
Dick grumbled and dug through his messy pile of monopoly money. Alfred and Bruce watched warily, eying the entire side of the board that she'd dominated. It was as Alfred always said: the sweet ones are always the most dangerous. That's when the phone rang through the kitchen area.
"Barbara, would you mind grabbing the phone?" Bruce asked. She could see the gears turning in his head, never taking his eyes off the board. His scheming face was at its finest.
"Okay," she sighed, jabbing a finger at each of them, "But no formulating strategies or stealing my money while I'm gone!"
Dick batted his eyes at her innocently, grinning wide. "Now, why would we go and do a thing like that?"
"Fine. But I have my cash counted."
"Hurry!" Dick said.
She ducked into the kitchen, peeking out. "And I still have more than all of you!"
"Get the phone!"
She barked out a small laugh and picked the phone up.
"Hello?" she asked.
"IsBatmanthereitsreallyimportantineedtotalktohimrightnowthisisthenumbertheygavemetocallhurryandfindbatmanitsanemergencypleasehurry!"
Barbara jerked the phone from her ear, then tried again.
"Bart?" She asked. "That you? I'm going to need you to slow down."
There was a deep breath on the other end of the line.
"Batgirl? Is Batman there?"
Her eyes darted to the other room, where the boys were laughing. "Maybe. Why?"
Bart's voice sped up a little, but Barbara caught his frantic message this time. Her grip slackened, and the phone fell to the tile with a sharp clatter. Pieces of plastic skittered across the tile, the batteries rolled in opposite directions.
The laughter in the other room stopped.
"Babs?" Dick called. "Everything okay?"
Her breath was coming in short ragged gasps. Flashbacks started to surge up, but she forced herself to focus. She darted into the other room.
"Tim's been abducted!" She screamed, and the boys all leapt to their feet. "We need to get to the tower right now!"
Everyone rushed downstairs.
#######
The batfamily stormed into the tower, wading through the crowd of frightened teenagers. A few of them sported head bandages and shock blankets. The others were doing their best to either tend to the wounded, or get in the Bats' way.
Cassie gripped Batgirl's arm as she passed.
"You have to find him!" A wad of gauze was taped to her forehead, and her eyes were wide and scared. So basically, she looked exactly how Barbara felt. But she kept her emotions in check. She was a bat. She had to keep up appearances.
Heaven forbid they show the metas that they didn't always know what they were doing.
The Titans parted and let the family go up to the main wall in the common room. The floor was riddled with bullet holes and scuff marks. The couches had been tipped on tipped on their sides and shredded by gunfire. Barbara gave the room a quick once over, and muttered to Batman,
"Explosion. Small Scale."
Batman nodded curtly. Whoever had done this would have surprised the Titan's with the sudden blast, thereby luring Robin to the Tower.
On the wall, there was a message in bright, dripping red letters:
YOUR MOVE BATMAN
Below the ominous message, a scrap of fabric was nailed to the drywall. Batman reached up and gently removed it. The scrap was red, and they could clearly make out a glittering gold R.
Barbara let out a squeak, running gloved fingers over the fabric. Batman started to scold her; they could probably find fingerprints. Batgirl elected to ignore that.
"My money's on the Hood," Nightwing muttered darkly.
Batman made a sound in the back of his throat. "We don't know that for sure—"
"Like #% we don't," Batgirl growled. She whirled on Batman. "Red paint. Bullet holes. Come on! He's being obvious. He wants us to know it was him, but you don't want to admit that because of who this guy is!" Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I know about what he did to Black Mask's lieutenants. I know about the murders and beheadings and extortions. When exactly were you going to enlighten your partners, huh?"
Batman's eyes narrowed, and the Titans inhaled sharply. But Barbara knew that she'd get away with talking back to her mentor. She, Dick and Tim were the only ones who could.
"He has Robin!" she shouted. Her voice was on the brink of cracking, but she kept her tone cool and controlled. "Now what the $^*% are we going to do about it?"
Nightwing's face was a mask of barely controlled rage. "We're taking this sucker down, Bats."
Batman's jaw clenched, but Barbara knew he wasn't mad at them. He was probably considering different scenarios, different places that Hood would be.
Bart limped over to their side. His bright yellow kid flash uniform made Dick wince and step back. Even Barbara was reminded of their fallen comrade; she could definitely see the family resemblance.
"You're gonna find T-Robin. Right?"
Batman turned to the spectators. "That's right. But finding Robin will be our job. All of you will keep out of this."
The room filled with protests, but three bat glares silenced the opposition.
"A man calling himself the Red Hood has taken Robin," Bats continued, "And he is not afraid of lethal force. You will. Stay. Out. Am I understood?"
'Yes Batman's and 'Fine's were heard all across the room, and the bat family headed towards the elevator, faces clouded over in worry.
#######
Three nights later, and there was still no sign of the Hood. Things in Gotham city had only grown more and more dire.
The Joker had been sprung from Arkham two days before, and while the orderlies and administration had declined to comment, it was clear to Batman and company that Black Mask was responsible. But why the man felt the need to release the greatest force of evil in Gotham in order to kill Hood, Batgirl wasn't certain. Anyone but Joker would have done. But it was Joker that Mask had released, and so it was Joker that they had to hunt down.
That laugh.
She could practically hear it over the rooftops where she perched, over the hustle and noise of the city below her. She could almost hear it in the wind.
Batgirl still remembered the night two years ago. She'd been on leave while Nightwing handled the Team's investigations into the Light, and their new partner. Patrol with Batman had been a pleasant change of pace. Missions with the Team were louder, and definitely more chaotic, especially trying to keep a group of sloppy and overconfident metas in line. But patrol in Gotham was more exciting, and much more ordered. She knew where she stood with her mentor; they could communicate silently without the slightest noise, even without a psychic link. That was the thing; M'gann's voice in her head always threw her slightly off. But in Gotham, she always knew what to do, where to run, and when to hit.
Patrol that night had been efficient, soaring over the rooftops and through the streets like Tarzan, flying over a million lights and cars and people. They'd stopped several muggers and put away a kingpin in the drug trade.
It was a duo patrol, just her and Batman. Even so, even roughly a year later, she still found herself looking over her shoulder for Robin. Not Timmy, who was still just starting out. But Jason, who was never coming back.
Eventually, patrol that night led them to the other end of town, where they found the Joker.
He'd eluded them ever since the explosion in Quarac, but they finally tracked him down to an old fishing warehouse on the wharves.
His plan…Batgirl forgot what it had been exactly; they all seemed to run together. She was pretty sure it had something to do with bombing the Gotham City Hospital, but it could just as easily have been the Community center, or City Hall.
They broke into his hiding place, they took down his thugs side by side. The Batman had gone to work on the bomb, and the Batgirl had gone to work on the Joker.
She cycled through many different interrogation tricks she'd learned from her mentor, but the Joker wouldn't tell them what the Injustice League was doing for the Light. Even a year after that failed reconnaissance mission, the Team and the League still didn't know. In frustration, she'd turned her back, lost control of the situation. The Joker had taken advantage.
"Ah, warehouses and bombs. Nice and cozy. Brings back memories, doesn't it, she-bat?"
Batgirl's shoulders had tensed. Batman was still on the other side of the warehouse defusing the bomb, but even he looked up.
"You know, I remember that kid. We had such fun times! We had this little game, him and I. We had this crowbar…mm, then again, I don't think he had quite as much fun as me."
Batgirl whirled around, and grabbed the Joker by his collar. His hands were bound behind him, but it was the psycho who seemed to be in control.
"Shut. Up," she snapped. The clown grinned.
"You've got fire, little girl! Robin did, too. But after a few minutes alone with me and Mr. Crowbar, you should have heard him squeal. Kept crying out for daddybats, and big brother and sister."
Batgirl let out a cry and threw the Joker back into the chair. She turned to go back and help Batman with the bomb, because her anger was running rampant in her veins. She'd worried about losing control and doing something she'd regret.
But the clown opened his mouth one more time.
"I would have loved," the Joker sneered, "to have seen the look on the little birdie's face when he realized that he was sitting on a bomb. You know, when it finally sunk in that you weren't going to be there to rescue him?"
Batgirl's whole body tensed.
Joker twisted the knife. "Tick… Tick... Tick... Oh no!"
He laughed, cackling out a sound that made her skin crawl. She turned one more time, just as the Joker said,
"Course its hard to feel too disappointed when you're there, there..." Joker's smile widened, his face darkening. "…and all the way over there. Splattered all over the mountain! Just think of the fun I'll have with the next one!"
He'd tipped back his head one more time, to let out another blood-curdling cackle.
She'd snapped.
She didn't remember much, just the wonderful and terrible sound of his bones crunching and snapping like ice. The laughter and shrieking that came out of the clown's mouth. There was blood on her gloves, drying in the creases. It was only when Batman yelled at her, dragging her from the mangled maniac, that she came back to herself.
"Not…as f-funny…as I'd hoped…" the Joker spluttered, laying broken like a puppet with its strings cut on the warehouse floor. And still, there was that horrible smile. Dripping and bloodstained, but wide as ever.
In the end, they'd called an ambulance instead of the police. Joker spent the next half of a year recovering in the cozy solitary confinement of Arkham asylum.
And now, finally, he was back on the streets. Somewhere.
She combed the streets below with a pair of binoculars. Well, they weren't quite binoculars, but they did the same thing.
Her ear crackled inside her cowl.
Batgirl?
"Nightwing." She swept her gaze over to a group of men smoking on a street corner. She didn't recognize any of them.
We found Hood. Ace Chemical building.
"Why on Earth would he go there?"
The group shuffled away, and Batgirl lowered her binoculars
Because we chased him there. Bats and I are ready to go in after him. You interested in a toxic game of hide and seek?
"Hah. Sure. Meet you there."
You sure you're okay? We'll find Robin. Don't worry.
"This whole thing…it feels, I don't know, familiar, somehow. Familiar isn't the word I mean. But, there's something about Hood. He doesn't feel like the Arkham crew or the mobsters. He's different."
Hey, wasn't I just saying that? I think now might be a good time to say 'told you so'.
She sighed. "Yeah, Yeah. Whatever. See you in a few."
Love you, babe.
A ghost of a smile twitched on her face. "You, too, Wingnut. Over and out."
She hurriedly stowed her binoculars in her belt, and spotted a roof that would give her the swinging momentum she'd need. She stretched her right arm to the night sky. There was a soft puff of air as the line shot out, attaching itself to the roof of the building kitty corner to hers. She took a deep breath, trusting the line and the equipment, and also trusting her own training. Then, she put aside the hesitation and jumped.
The building streaked upwards and the street towards her, but the line caught her. She shifted her body into the swing, rolling her shoulder and arm to accommodate the line as it pulled taut. Then, she swung out over the people of Gotham, feeling like she was flying. Lights and reflections lit the scene like Christmas, and the wind whipped her hair behind her, and snapped her cape.
Below, Gothamites pointed and waved to the familiar vigilante. There were a couple pictures being snapped. It was unfortunate, and Batgirl winced, but it couldn't be helped. People would always want pictures, keepsakes to have of Gotham's heroes, but it was a good way to get found out.
She transitioned, pressing a button on her palm when she wanted to release the line, and snapping the other out to grab hold of a new roof. Alternating, she swung over the city like Spiderman. Finally, she reached the outskirts, spotting the smokestacks of the Ace Chemical Plant silhouetted against the ink blue sky. She landed and ran, coming to a rest by the Batmobile. Batman and Nightwing popped out a few moments after they realized she'd arrived.
Nightwing was a few inches away, and she nudged him.
"Technically," she said, "I beat you here."
He laughed. "In your dreams."
They fell in line behind the Batman, marching through the gaping hole that used to be a loading bay. According to Nightwing, the Hood had crashed his car through it, speeding into the plant to escape them. As far as they knew, he was still inside.
A solitary heat signature told them that Tim wasn't with him. But that wouldn't stop them from tearing the info from the evil vigilante.
"I have a sampler," Batman told them a few yards from the way in. He held up the device, a vial attached to a line that could be fired from his grappling gun. A needle on its tip glinted in the streetlights. "We'll collect his blood at the very least, and run a test to find out who he is."
Even Batman didn't expect to capture the Red Hood tonight. Batgirl felt a pang in her chest when she thought of Timmy alone and tied up somewhere. If he was even still alive.
Stop that.
They stepped through the portal into the dark chemicals factory. The air smelled like antiseptic or bleach, the only light coming from simmering vats of Ace's newest concoctions.
Batman paused, hesitating. This was the place where the Joker had been created, when Batman had still been new at the game and too late to save the mystery man in a red hood from falling to his fate.
It was almost funny, then, that they'd chased a new Hood here.
"Well, well," a voice called out, echoing through the room. "If it isn't the bat family."
The voice disguise was gone. Barbara replayed the voice, his words, in her head. It was a deep voice, but high enough that she could tell that the Red Hood was a young man. She placed him at about eighteen or so. His young age made his one-man guerilla warfare on crime that much more impressive. And a little bit scary.
"Hood," Batman growled, "Where's Robin?"
There was a laugh, then, and the bat family raced towards the sound. They turned a corner and found a wrecked '76 Buick thrown up against a vat of chemicals. Gas was leaking from the ruined tank. Slowly, they backed up a little, and swung up to a catwalk on their lines, above the hazardous wreck.
Their boots had no sooner hit the metal grating when the voice returned.
"Welcome back to Ace chemicals, Batman. The sight of your worst mistake!"
A figure stepped into the light on the catwalk above them. His crimson helmet gleamed in the chemicals' glow.
"But I think we all know it wouldn't be your last."
Batman stepped forward, almost lunging.
"Where's. Robin," he demanded. Hood scoffed.
"Please. Like I'd tell you that."
Batgirl and Nightwing removed batarangs from their belts. As they took aim, Hood threw up his hands.
"No need for that guys. I just wanted to talk to Bats here. Of course, now probably isn't the time for that, is it?"
He whipped out a handgun and they flinched. The Red Hood took aim at the car, and it only took Batgirl half a second to realize what was going on.
"Now, Batman!" she shouted, pushing Nightwing, the closest to the edge of the railing, backwards. Both took their hints, and Nightwing was off the catwalk and near a window in the space of three seconds. Lightning quick, Batman shot the line with the blood sampler attached to the end at their target. Batgirl didn't get the chance to see if it made contact, because Hood fired.
The room exploded in a ball of fire. The gasoline and chemicals had only needed a spark. Batman was thrown towards Nightwing, and both crashed out through the window. Batgirl was thrown the opposite direction. Her head slammed into the railing, dazing her. She lay against the grating as the flames climbed higher, reaching for the other vats of chemicals. Once it found them…
Batgirl's vision blurred. Something was wrong with her torso. It was cold, so cold that she wanted to scream. When she looked down, she saw corroding metal and flesh where her side used to be. Chemicals…burning on her skin.
She was a goner. The other vats were seconds from exploding, so she lay her head on the grating after a weak gasp, and shut her eyes.
Was this how Jason had felt? At the end?
Something warm and wet trickled down her face.
The last thing she felt was pressure, sliding beneath her, and lifting her up.
#######
Dick rolled when he hit the concrete, narrowly dodging the hulking form of his mentor. His vision jilted and hummed. A mask malfunction, maybe.
The warehouse rumbled behind them, and Nightwing let out a chuckle, getting shakily to his feet.
"Got the sample, B-man?" He rasped, and wiped a dribble of blood off his bottom lip. Bruce nodded, glancing around. Nightwing turned, hand upraised for a high five. "Quick thinking, BG. We never would've-"
Batgirl wasn't there.
He did a quick 360. Where was she? She'd been right next to them-
The building groaned, and Dick knew.
She hadn't made it out.
"Wait!" he shouted, lunging back towards the plant. "Batgirl!"
FWOOM
The plant exploded, all the windows exploding outwards in balls of fire. Flames licked the roof, burning so hot that it scorched the vigilantes' faces from several yards away.
Both men recovered from the initial blast, and Nightwing felt rising terror in his chest. "NO!" he screamed, rushing forward.
Batman put a hand on his chest to stop him, then grabbed him around the arms when that wasn't enough.
"Nightwing!" Batman shouted, then, leaning closer. "Dick. I'm sorry. There's nothing we could have done."
Dick threw off his mentor. "Are you insane?" He shouted back. "We're going back for her!"
Dick watched the flames, and heard the wail of sirens creeping closer and closer, punctuated by horns.
"Dick," Batman said softly. "We have to go. There's nothing we can do for her now."
His mentor had to half lead and half carry Nightwing back to the Batmobile. As soon as Dick was belted in, he broke down, sobbing like a baby.
######
The top of the Batmobile slid back, and Alfred stepped forward to offer them a platter of snacks. He greeted Bruce, then Dick, then stopped. His eyes were wide.
"Master Bruce?" he asked, fear audible in the old man's voice, "Where is Miss Barbara?"
Bruce took a shuddering breath. "She couldn't make it back tonight." He stalked towards his chair in front of the cave's hollow screens.
Dick collapsed onto a bench near the bat computer. He was still crying, but it had subsided a bit. His chest felt hollow.
"How can you take it?" Dick asked Bruce through his teeth. Bruce swiveled in his chair, cowl pulled down.
"Because she's not dead."
Dick sat up. "What are you talking about?"
In reply, Bruce played security camera footage from the chemical plant. Dick watched Bruce and himself thrown out of a window again as the building exploded. There were a few moments, and then the building's biggest explosion ripped out the windows, making the feed's audio buzz like crazy.
"I know," Dick snapped. "We already saw that."
Bruce tapped the space bar, and the feed from the opposite side of the building popped onto the screen. A figure leaped from the second story window of the plant, rolling as he hit the pavement. It was the Red Hood, and he cradled something gently in his arms. As he stood, Nightwing could make out a trailing cape and the ears of a bat cowl in the fuzzy image. Nightwing stepped over to the computer, and watched Hood set Batgirl down on the concrete beside a black cycle. With one fluid movement, Hood ripped off her cape and wrapped it gently around her torso. He picked her up again, balancing them both on his cycle, then sped away.
Dick let out a sigh of relief. Barbara was alive.
"Why would he help her?" he demanded.
Bruce made a sound to indicate that he didn't know.
"I have a feeling we'll find out soon enough. Why don't you go and get some shut eye, Dick. It's been a long night for all of us."
Dick started to protest, but sighed instead.
Barbara was Hood's prisoner, but she was alive. Dick felt a new flare of determination as he shuffled to the elevator.
#######
Bruce waited until Dick was safely upstairs, then pulled the sampler from his belt. He typed a few commands into the bat computer, then plugged the end into a waiting port.
[ANALYZING SAMPLE] the screen read.
Alfred was at Bruce's side in a moment.
"Are you quite sure she's alright, sir?" he asked, staring at the screen. Bruce nodded.
"During our last encounter with him, the Red Hood made it clear that he had no fight with either Batgirl or Nightwing. At most, he's probably let her go by now, or admitted her to a hospital."
"And at worst?"
Bruce watched the bar load, the sample almost analyzed.
"Worst case scenario is that she's his hostage. It's better than losing her completely, Alfred."
The old butler sighed, laying his tray on the desk.
"Are you certain he won't hurt her, Master Bruce? The man has killed dozens, committed so many crimes…"
Bruce opened his mouth to reply. Just then, the screen beeped.
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
Bruce pounded a key.
[COMMAND RECEIVED…MATCH FOUND]
A series of pictures popped up onto the screen. A boy in grubby street clothes. A portrait of three men and a girl in gala finery, posing for a camera. A selfie taken with a mobile phone, the girl and youngest boy from the portrait grinning mischievously as an older boy peeked out from behind them. A boy in a bright red costume.
Bruce's eyes widened.
"That's impossible," he breathed.
[MALE…18 YEARS OF AGE…]
Alfred let out a shaky breath, taking a few steps backward.
[NAME: JASON PETER TODD]
Bruce slowly got to his feet.
This wasn't possible. It couldn't be.
Bruce thundered from the room.
#######
The grave lay open, freshly unearthed by a disguised and curious 'undertaker'. Bruce stared into the hole, taking in the ruined coffin from beneath the brim of his stolen uniform's hat.
Pieces of the thin metal coating and the wood interior lay around the edges of the coffin. Strips of the red velvet lining lay like bloodstains over the dirt and debris.
He'd installed sensors in the coffin when they'd laid Jason to rest. They were meant to go off if anyone, enemy or otherwise, tried to disturb the boy's remains.
There was no sensor for something breaking out.
It shouldn't have been possible. Jason was dead.
And yet…