"Why did Kean order us to accompany you on a shopping trip?" Groused the ten-year-old leaning against the back of her car. "Kai and I would be better used helping to search for Talon or this John Watkins than getting apples and jello."
"Getting apples and jello is doing something useful, Damian." Sorcha raised her eyes to his glittering ones. "You're helping get foods that won't upset Malcolm's stomach. That's almost more helpful than searching for Watkins or Talon."
"Given Mal barely eats as it is," came from the boy handing her the bags in the cart. "I mean, you've seen how sad his fridge looks. Box of baking soda, bottle of water, and that's a good day."
A soft tt was Damian's answer to that bit of truth. "We could still be more useful than this."
"But then you wouldn't have gotten frozen yogurt and the latest issue of GamePro magazine." Sorcha handed a bag to the sullen boy and indicated for him to place it in the trunk with the two others. "Or selected what toppings you want on your pizza."
That mollified him.
For now, anyway.
If Sorcha had learned anything in the last two hours, it was that Damian Wayne wasn't an easy kid to pacify. Raya hadn't been kidding when she said he was ten going on forty. Little wonder given his upbringing, though. Sorcha hadn't met his mother, Talia al Ghul, but any mother who raised her son from birth to become an elite assassin wasn't high on her list of candidates for parent of the year.
"C'mon, Dami, would you really prefer being cooped up in the house all day?"
"No," was his reply.
"So…" A grin teased out Christopher Kean's dimples. "Quit complainin'."
That Christopher was a complete opposite from his cousin was the understatement of the century.
The two had the same dark hair and green eyes but where Damian possessed a lean, muscular form suited for his role as Robin, Christopher had one better suited for a dancer. Not unexpected given his mother is a dancer, Sorcha mused as she took a bag filled with fresh vegetables and fruits and set it in the trunk.
He'd grow into his kryptonian heritage, though. Her brother, Sean had been on the gangly side until high school. Then he shot up four inches, packed on fifty pounds of muscle, and tore up the football field before joining the army.
"It's freakish how alike Mom and Uncle Mal are." A lopsided grin accompanied those words. "Sometimes think they're twins who got separated at birth."
Sorcha snorted a laugh as she handed him the final bag. "They're disaster twins is what they are."
"Hey, Mom hasn't blown up anything in fifty-three days."
"Wow," she teased. "Fifty-three whole days since something went boom in Gotham."
"Hey." That grin stretched wider. "That beats her old record by two."
"Pft," came from Damian. "That's because Father forbid it."
"Forbid, my left toe," Sorcha said as she closed the trunk lid. "She allowed your father to forbid her."
A crease appeared between Damian's brow. "That sounds like Kean."
"Don't tell Grandpa Bruce that." Christopher bounced around to the passenger side of the car. As big a ball of energy as Malcolm but with less neuroses and trauma. "He doesn't like he can't intimidate her like he used too."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure your grandfather knows she's humoring him." Sorcha unlocked her car door before tossing the keys to Christopher so he could unlock his. "That's why he has her watching Mal. Figures it keeps the city safer."
"Tt, as if Kean doesn't have some type of explosive device in the bags she brought with her."
Sorcha hadn't thought about that possibility.
"She didn't bring anything explosive with her." She looked at Christopher who wore an innocent expression eerily reminiscent of the man who raised him. "She did, didn't she?"
"Explosives are like American Express with Mom." Those dimples again winked. "She don't leave home without them."
Sorcha grimaced as she settled behind the wheel. "Good thing your uncle and dad are in the city."
"Yeah, like that'll stop Mom from blowing up something."
"Father still hasn't forgiven her for blowing up the foyer of Wayne Manor."
"She wasn't going to let your mother have you. Not without a fight."
Damian hunched in his seat, arms folded across his chest, and a frown replacing his perma-sneer. "Father would have handled Mother."
"Damian, there are some fights only mothers can win."
"She's not my mother."
"She's Kai's mother. And Ritchie and Hayley's."
"So?"
"There's no switch that turns off Mom-mode." She indicated her seatbelt. "Now buckle up so we can get back."
Her phone buzzed as both boys complied.
"Bet that's Mom calling to find out where we are."
"No." Sorcha's brow furrowed as she pulled her phone from her purse. "It's Detective Powell."
Her first thought was Mal managed to slip away from his house. Christopher must have sensed her thoughts because he said, "If Uncle Mal left his house we'd get an alert from Oracle about it."
Sorcha hummed a noncommittal reply as she answered. "Dani? What is it?"
"Evan Chambers is holding a group of children and nurses hostage in the children's ward."
"Evan…" She shook her head. There was no way she could have heard Dani correctly. Evan wasn't the sort of man who'd take anyone hostage. "Are you sure it's Evan Chambers?"
"We have a positive identification, yes."
Sorcha tried to wrap her head around what Dani was telling her but couldn't. Her mind simply refused to accept Evan had taken a group of children hostage. It wasn't in his nature.
"Why would he take a group of children hostage?"
"We believe he's the one who left you those samples yesterday at the precinct."
Sorcha's heart plummeted into her stomach. "You're sure?"
"Yes." There was an audible sigh. "JT thinks he might talk to you."
"Me?" Sorcha's eyes widened. "Why me?"
"Because you speak Bright." JT's voice rumbled through the speaker. "And since Bright nor Not-Bright can be here…"
"I'm the next best thing."
"Right."
Indecision warred. Sorcha wanted to confront Evan more than anything. Find out why he helped frame Malcolm by planting those samples on Eddie Smith. However, the curious and eager faces she saw out the corner of her eye gave her pause. Dragging ten-year-olds to a hostage situation wasn't something a responsible adult would do.
These weren't ordinary tweens, though. Damian served as the current Robin while Christopher… well, he was an active member of the Teen Titans alongside both his cousins and friends.
"Give me twenty minutes," she said as excited utterances came from the passenger seat. "We'll be there."
…
"We'll be there?" JT questioned soon as Dani hung up. "Who in the hell is Bright-Lite bringing with her?"
All Dani could do was shrug since she had no more an idea about who Sorcha was talking about than JT.
"I have no clue who she could be bringing with her." She slid her phone back into her pocket with a frown. "It can't be Bright, though. Gil made it clear he's to stay at his mom's house."
"Yeah, like that'll stop his skinny ass from skipping out of there first chance he gets." A side smirk accompanied that statement and was followed with, "Bet you twenty bucks he was out of there before Mini-Bright hung up the phone."
He's right, Dani realized as hospital security spoke to parents and other staff about what was going on. Bright likely was out the door before Sorcha finished her sentence.
Impulsive was one word she could use to describe Malcolm Bright.
Rash was another.
Reckless.
The list went on.
JT hung a whiteboard in Gil's office to mark the days since one of Bright's spontaneous decisions led to his getting injured or into some sort of dangerous situation. He changed the number to zero a week ago and hadn't updated it since.
"Possible she will bring Agent Kean with her."
JT grunted softly. "Three profilers are better than one."
"Agent Kean is also an active officer."
Who works with a comic book hero.
Dani wasn't sure how she felt about Batman going from a character played by Hollywood actors to a live human being with military-grade weapons and vehicles at his disposal.
The practical side of her was in direct opposition to her cop side. While she acknowledged Batman served a purpose by doing things they, as cops, couldn't, he also skirted the law with what he did.
Breaking the law for the right reasons was still breaking the law.
In New York, anyway.
Gotham played by an entirely different rulebook. One designed to deal with a distinct type of criminal.
The kind requiring a man in military-grade body armor to stop.
A loud bang from inside the ward pulled Dani from her thoughts.
"Hell was that?" JT peeked around the corner. "Metal tray?"
"Maybe." Dani's brow creased. "Could have been a clipboard." She prayed it wasn't anything else. "Doctor Chambers?" she called out. "Is everything okay in there?"
"No, it's not, Detective."
A chair scrapping the floor had Dani cringing. "Everything is far from okay, in fact."
"We can't help you unless you talk to us."
"Talk!" A hollow laugh echoed off the walls. "Everyone wants to talk! Well, let me tell you something, Detective, talking is what got me into this mess in the first place!"
"With Endicott?" It was risky to ask such a charged question given the doctor's agitated state. There was no choice, however. They had to get to the bottom of things. It was the only way to help Chambers and Bright. "What does he have on you?"
"You think I'm going to tell you?" Another laugh. Shriller. "Don't think so, Detective."
Dani exchanged a worried look with JT. The doctor was unraveling and fast. If they didn't figure out a way to keep him calm until Sorcha got there, someone would get hurt.
"If you got any suggestions for how to calm this dude down," JT said as he settled back against the wall. "I'm listening."
Dani already used their only suggestion when she called Sorcha.
"We know you tried to make things right when you delivered the samples that prove Eddie Smith wasn't murdered by Malcolm Bright."
"Whitly." Doctor Chambers voice sounded closer now. "He's Malcolm Whitly."
"You know Malcolm personally then?"
"He went to Harvard with Sorcha."
"There's the connection," JT murmured. "Mini-Bright."
A sigh pierced the air. "I warned Sorcha about the Whitly's. Told her and Mandy it was dangerous getting involved with any of them."
"Why?"
"People tend to die around the Whitly's."
"Guy's got a point," JT muttered. "The Surgeon has twenty-three bodies credited to him."
"That we know of."
A grunt was JT's response. His thinking sound as she liked to call it.
"Mini-Bright and Not-Bright believe there are more victims."
"They just haven't been found."
"Not yet."
Dani frowned. "Do you think this is about stopping them from finding those bodies?"
"Rich people are willing to do anything to protect their secrets."
"Even commit murder."
"Mhm."
That brought up one question: "Is Martin Whitly a serial killer who enjoyed killing or is he a serial killer trying to protect his family?"
"Only one person can answer that question."
"Martin Whitly."
JT nodded. "And he's currently sitting in Riker's courtesy of Nicholas Endicott."
Dani blew out a breath. "Can this case get any more complicated?"
"Whitly's are involved, Detective," came from the doctor on the other side of the entryway. "It's been complicated since Malcolm Whitly was born."
"Why?"
"Cause he's the firstborn, Detective."
"So?"
A sigh was the doctor's reply.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!