Barbara lead Grayson along the side of the Rossum Building. They kept close to the wall, hidden in the shadows. The moon was full creating just enough light for her to see a path. She slowed as they approached the corner, peering her masked head around to see any approaching danger. She saw one security guard walking slowly in their direction, doing a routine patrol of the campus. From her time as a student at GSU, Barbara remembered walking home in the early hours of the morning comforted that a group of friendly, if not incredibly competent, guards circled the main buildings at every hour of the night.
She held up her yellow gloved hand in a fist, letting Grayson know to hold his position. He patiently waited behind her. She stood against the cool brick, her back flush on the wall, and closed her eyes. Slowly taking a breath in through her nose. She counted to fifteen in her head. Her eyes shot open as she pivoted around the corner, surprising the guard who was less than a foot away from Batgirl as her fist landed on his jaw. He hit the pavement with a solid thud.
Barbara grabbed his ankles and Grayson stepped out to circle around the body, grabbing his bulky shoulders. They lifted him with little effort, moving him just out of view from the main path. Barbara was confident he would wake in a few moments, enough time for them to enter the building, now undetected.
Grayson jogged up to the large wooden doors, yanking one open with a loud creak in the night's silence. Barbara followed, ducking under his arm as he held the door open for her to squeeze past him. She lead them both down a long hallway to the bank of elevators, her combat boots squeaked on the clean tile. She hit the Up arrow, immediately summoning the door to open. They stepped in sync into the large elevator, Barbara reaching out to hit the top floor.
"That was easy," Grayson chuckled. Barbara rolled her eyes at him, but smiled. The elevator was brightly lit, which always threw her off when on missions; her eyes needed to adjust to the fluorescents. She leaned back, resting her head on the wall. She glanced over at Grayson who stood slightly in front of her. Her eyes travelled down his suit, something she never usually saw in such clear lighting. The weave in his suit was perfect for the former acrobat; her leather jacket was at times too stiff for fighting. The jet black colour made the blue of his logo pop. She has to admit to herself, he was making up style points from his Robin costume. Nightwing was far and above a better look for him. His neck was partially exposed and she suddenly had an urge to reach out and run her hands up his shaggy raven hair. The loud ding of the elevator doors snapped her thoughts back to the matter at hand.
Grayson reached both hands behind his shoulders, gripping his two Escrima sticks that were secured to his back. He slowly pulled them out as he surveilled the hallway in front of them. Barbara let him lead the way.
The empty hallway lead out to a large foyer that branched out to the left and right. In the centre was a large security desk, two chairs abandoned for the night. Barbara let her guard down, causally strolling past Grayson, heading to the empty desk. There may be a com log of people entering the main lab that could prove useful, she thought.
As she passed the threshold to the foyer, she felt Grayson grab her shoulders.
His sticks angled over her ears as he held both them and her shoulders in his hands. She crouched down against him as he pulled her back to the hallway behind them. She heard noises from every angle; loud cracks, thumping, and echoing rings as bullet casings hit the tile ground. Seemingly endless firing, the two kept their position just out of range, as the wood of the security desk splintered and tiled walls snapped.
"What did we walk into?" Grayson said into her ear. Barbara couldn't comprehend what could be so important to guard, but she didn't have time for this. The gunfire ceased; Grayson and Barbara stood simultaneously. She ran out to the left, Grayson taking the slightly farther right hallway.
Barbara knew the gunmen would be expecting retaliation. She grabbed a small orb from her pouch, which gripped tightly to her thigh, as she slid fairly easily across the tile, coming up just short of one thug reloading his gun with a new clip. As she threw the orb further down the hallway, she grabbed the back of the guy's knee, pulling towards her so his feet became unstable and he slammed down hard on the floor. She pivoted to her knees, mounting his chest and landed a solid hit across his face. His head slumped down, unconscious. Barbara safely placed her hands on either side of his head, lifting her torso up, kicking her legs overhead until they hit the ground. She hadn't done a front handstand flip for quite some time, impressing herself she still had it in her.
The hallway had filled with a dense white smoke. Barbara looked at the ground, searching for the shadows of her attackers. She saw one on her left. This part was always the crapshoot for her: she stepped towards the shadow, reaching her left hand out grasping for the body in front of her. Luckily, she landed on his shoulder, surprising him enough that should could deliver a hard blow to his temple. When she felt his weight shift, she pulled her left hand down, her right hand holding his shoulder blade as her knee collided with his sternum. He collapsed on to the floor. Barbara breathed a sigh of relief. She never had much training with fighting in smoke, but it always proved a useful tool.
She ran back to the foyer in time to see Nightwing being held from behind by a man almost two feet taller than himself. He lifted one foot on to the wall in front of him, then the other. Slowly he walked up the side of the wall, until he had enough leverage to flip over the thug's head, reaching to grab on of his sticks that were securely attached to his back again. He held the metal bar against his perp's throat, his forearms struggling against the power of muscle twitching under his grasp. Slowly, the giant's body lilted, and Nightwing released his stick, placing it back in the holder behind him. Four bodies now lay unconscious around Grayson.
He rejoined Barbara at the now bullet ridden security desk.
"I ask again, what did we walk into?" Grayson still looked on edge, listening for more footsteps.
"Well," Barbara looked to her left at a large frosted glass door, with a numerical pinpad. "Seems like that is our best bet."
She walked over to the pinpad; Grayson followed a moment later.
"How are we handling this one? Simple hack, probably. I think I've got something useful." As Grayson mumbled more to himself than her, Barbara started typing.
7-3-5-8-1-3.
The door let out a bzzt, the lock clicking open. Grayson looked at Barbara stunned.
"Greg has a code written in his notes. I took a chance," Barbara shrugged.
"Eidetic memory strikes again," Grayson teased. He started to pull the door handle, but paused. He looked down at Barbara, who was listening for activity on the other side. She heard some shuffling, but couldn't tell if they were armed like their guard friends in the hallway. She looked at Grayson, who signalled for her to head straight, he would cover the left side. He counted down with his fingers from three, yanking the door open hard, giving Barbara space to run down the middle of the lab. She saw a tall man in front of her, holding a semi automatic gun near his hips, pointing down. Clearly not ready for their spring attack. She used her momentum to spring frontwards, placing her hands on his shoulders, lifting her body over his, landing gracefully on her feet behind him. She pivoted to one foot, kicking him squarely on his lower back. He propelled forward, the gun skidding across the floor well out of reach. She took two steps forward, landing a knockout kick to the side of his face.
Turning around, Barbara saw one more thug come around from the side of a long table, littered with papers and test tubes. He had his fists up, and a large smirk across his face.
"Seriously? Batgirl? What are you gonna do, sweetheart?" He scoffed at her.
Barbara tilted her head slightly, bringing her hands up, palms facing the ceiling. She gave a large shrug.
"Gee, I don't know," she said in her most sappy voice. She even pouted her bottom lip a little.
The man started to approach her, fists still poised to attack. She stood her ground, hands now on her hips. His feet shuffled underneath him, inching closer to the masked woman. When he was a foot away from Barbara, she swung her hips, bringing her right fist straight forward to connect with his left eye. His was stopped in his tracks as if he hit an invisible wall, then hit the floor, body limp at Barbara's feet.
From across the room, she heard metal clanging against metal as Grayson handcuffed a man in a white lab coat to a table. He was sitting on the floor, his arm slightly lifted as his wrist dangled from Grayson's cuffs. Barbara stood beside Grayson, both looking down and the wilted man.
"Tell us everything," Barbara demanded.
"I don't know anything," the man whimpered.
"Bullshit," she spat back. She really didn't have time for this. "What are you making here? Who's in charge? Tell us!"
"I swear. Don't kill me," he sniffled. He was looking at the floor, curling his legs under him. Grayson believed him. He seemed truly scared.
"Batgirl, wait," he touched Barbara's shoulder. She shrugged off his touch, crouching down to meet her captive's eyes.
"Listen to me," she tried to soften her tone. "There are people out there taking whatever it is you're making. It's making them scared, sick. My friend is in the hospital because of you. You need to help me stop this. Give up the name." The man looked up at Barbara, deep into her eyes. She saw flecks of green in his irises, his face was flushed. He had tears forming in his eyes.
"I'm just a technician. I get paid. I come to work." He paused, looking up at Grayson, then back at Barbara. "I'm making a drug?"
Grayson grabbed Barbara's wrist, pulling her up and over, out of earshot.
"He clearly is just a lackey. We're not getting anything out of him."
"What if he's lying," Barbara asked. "If I let him go, who's to say he won't inform his boss? Nightwing and Batgirl attacked the lab; they could pack up and our lead is dead in the water."
"I'm letting him go," Grayson walked over, unclasping the handcuffs. He lifted the man up by his collar, pushing him towards the door.
"Do me a favour, don't come back here. What you're doing, it's not for the greater good. Find a new job." He watched as the man stumbled out of the lab, the frosted door shutting securely behind him.
"Don't worry, Babs," Grayson grinned back at her disapproving face, "I put a tracker on his collar. If he does go back to his boss, he'll just be leading us right to him."
"Fine," she threw her hands up dejectedly. "Let's see what evidence we can find in this mess." Barbara looked around the lab. Locating the nearest computer, she got to work as Grayson sifted through the papers strewn across the workbenches. This would prove to be another long night for the duo.