Opening Part 1

Gotham has changed.

Change is inevitable, expected even.

But Dick, now with a nifty little Outreach ID that read 'Rick Johnson', was still a little bit breath taken to see just how much the Gotham he escaped to differed from Gotham he had been taken from. Truth be told, Gotham was a city progressing forward – the old warnings his parents had given starting to slowly not apply. Not in the same capacity.

The first Gotham show Dick remembered was back from when he was around five-years-old. About a decade ago. Haly's Circus returned to Gotham for a show every couple years.

The Owls had stolen these maybe-about-five years from him; and it hurt that in the one month he had been free from the Owls, from their Courts and Parliaments, he was yet to do anything to strike back.

Yes, Dick knew that he had to lay low. He had to make sure they never found him. Make sure they never dragged him back into the gloom. But it was so hard to do that when all he was doing was…

Washing dishes.

The load piled up next to him – the lunch rush was just starting to wind down and it certainly didn't help that Dick had a bad habit of completing the dishes… by hand. Really, there was a perfectly good dishwashing machine right there and most of the time, he forgot he could use it.

"JOHNSON! ANOTHER LOAD COMING IN!"

"Aye captain!"

"Oh so it's speak like a pirate day now is it lad?"

"Nope!"

Yes, Dick. Aka Rick Johnson, was dishwasher extraordinaire at Tobias' Hang Out. The place-slash-shelter-slash-hangout-slash-community centre for pretty much everyone under the age of nineteen. Tobias was, of course, the owner.

. . .

This was how Dick ended up with Tobias as a boss.

It was barely a week into his freedom. Dick found a place to stay – where the director of the Shelter took one look at how skittish he was and immediately assigned him to one of the single rooms. Along with a few dozen pamphlets detailing the services he could access.

The Wayne Tutoring Centre opened in the afternoon and ran till around dinner. So with nothing in particular to do in the mornings, Dick found himself at the recruitment centre – cautiously poking around the 'adolescent' jobs on offer.

This was where he ran into Tobias – next thing he knew, he had a job. An actual income. And all the leftovers from breakfast he wanted to keep and get a meal of his choice at lunch

. . .

Tobias Mackeegan was a tall, lanky man who walked like he had borne the weight of the world on his shoulders. His dirty blond hair was more 'dirty' than 'blond' under the fluorescent kitchen lights. His subtle good looks were mostly covered up by his stone-faced features. Which gave nothing away. Like he had forgotten how to make expressions a long time ago. But his hazel-green eyes could tell you his entire story.

Spend a minute interacting with Tobias, and the truth became apparent.

Tobias knew things. He had lived life. But his eyes – his green eyes said everything. Tobias Mackeegan had lived, and while living had seen things. The university of life had clearly broke him.

But some obstinate part of him had remained good and kind. And that something was what drove him to walk into the Wayne Foundation (one day, whilst a certain Martha Wayne was there) to pitch his idea. Threadbare clothes, no social security number, a toddler that insisted her name was 'Toby' and a past he wasn't talking about – he described his dream of creating a place for kids to feel safe in. Somewhere they could grab a meal, hang out or just spend hours at without the nervousness of having to constantly buy a drink. Somewhere anyone under the age of nineteen could just go and hunker down.

Obviously – it worked.

…

The usual kitchen rush hour was on – and Dick's boss had no qualms about being a dogsbody in his own establishment.

The kitchen was full of people benefiting from Wayne outreach who didn't really want much contact with people they didn't fully trust yet. Doug, who worked the fryers - he used to be a part of some gang and then decided to get out – get on the 'straight and narrow' as he called it. A big, burly guy who was keeping his head down as much as he could.

A girl called Zee-Cue who did so much she's not proud of, now batting clean-up for the rest of the kitchen staff. She did a little of everything, even though her job was just kitchen prep and main baker.

And finally the twins, (cousins really) Maddie and Steve who alternated between cooking, grilling and plating – what's their story? No one knew really, and no one was going to ask until they were ready to share.

Then there's Jem, Tom and Sam-Yon. All wait staff, all decidedly not on the payroll. They're volunteers. They do this to get community service hours for some reason or other. But, there's a reason why Tobias kept them up front. Unlike the kitchen staff, they weren't attempting to glue back broken pieces.

Dick's mechanical cleaning slowed as his frustration built. To be fair – it had been a month since he left the Labyrinth. A month in which he had done nothing.Despite his enthusiasm – and his training – the Owls had never bothered to teach him the hows of starting an investigation.

"Yo Johnson! Your lunch is coming up right? Wanna hang?"

Dick flinched out of his dish induced daze, blinking at Tom. All the volunteers had an innocence about them – an innocence he once shared. The shift of Tom's friendly, open expression told Dick he'd spaced out again. He shrugged, cocking his head at the pile.

"Nah, got to take down Everest here. If I break now the dishes will just climb higher."

Tom had that look the volunteers got when they realised just how different the kitchen staff were from them. The look people get when they could physically feel the baggage that came with interacting with such a person. Tom backed away warily as Dick sighed and returned to the load.

"You sure you don't want to take that break? You've been going since the opening rush."

"Still haven't made that dent, Mr. Tobias."

"Kid, you know you can just use the dishwasher right?"

"I know. I just…"

Tobias despite his height, was not a big man by any means. But life left its mark on him, and that mark translated to presence. The glare helped.

Dick vowed in his head that he would lift Tobias's glare off him one day. It was an unintentional sort of glare on Tobias' part, but it had this feel – one that tore its way into your soul – making you feel like a little rodent about to be lunch. Dick backed down.

"Go kid. Grab your lunch around the back. I think Zee prepped stew for the kitchen communal meal. I'll take the dishes from here."

With that Tobias plunged his hands into the sudsy water and continued where Dick had left off. And that was that.

. . .

Zee's communal kitchen staff stew was this hearty mess of a thing that used all the rest of the scraps of burgers, sausages and other meats along with the typical stew ingredients. Because someone (it was Maddie) accidentally knocked the timer over the staff also had a whole industrial sized tray of slightly burnt, buttery, southern-style buttermilk biscuits to eat with it. Dick grabbed five.

He made his way to a tiny alcove which had a view of the skylight. The bleak Gotham sunlight beat its way down into his bones. The alcove was something Dick had stumbled across one day. It was barely visible from the floor his was on and practically invisible from the ground. Coincidentally, it was also a great place for surveillance. Not that Dick intended to use it for surveillance.

If he accidentally did use it for surveillance, it was unintentional. Completely unintentional.

Dick was frustrated.

He had no leads. No way to strike at the Owls who ruined his life. The barest inkling on how to get off the ground by that one mercenary that only got hired because he could take down a… thing that he was 'supposed' to become.

Dick sighed and let his head knock back on the wall, staring up at the sky when snippets of a conversation drifted up at him. Dick casually leaned forward, just enough so he could watch.

"…yeah man, that's what I heard!"

"But Diego's not one to work with the richies – he barely even gets close to the Wayne stuff!"

"The payout dude. The payout is HUGE and we wouldn't even need to do much. Just move a couple boxes. Play lookout a bit. Do a little graffiti…"

"I don't know man – you know the stories about them Voldemort wannabes. Do we really want…"

"Look! -"

"Gentlemen." Tobias interrupted.

The glare this time was entirely intentional. The boys shrunk under his stare. It was one thing to provide a service-slash-shelter-slash-business that teens (and younger) can feel safe at. It's one thing to be known as a safe adult. It's another to get Tobias, disappointed.

No one dared mess with Tobias Mackeegan.

The one rule Tobias had about the Hang Out was that you must genuinely want to get out. Or if you didn't want to get out – to at least leave all 'business' at the threshold.

"Sorry sir."

"You know the rules boys. None of that in here."

"Yes sir."

Dick blinked. His two unfinished biscuits untouched. The description was pretty darn clear for anyone knowing what to look for.

He asked. He's received. Dick had his lead.

AN: And we begin the first part of the Stalemate! This is the Centre Fight, the opening act into the Stalemate where Dick finds his footing and starts to make a nuisance of himself (to the Owls at least)!

Thank you for following along so far and feel free to let us know what you think! If you'd like to contact us via tumblr, my handle is eastoniablogs!