"This bouncy house was enjoyable," Damian paused, "May we have one at my next birthday celebration?"

"Well, your next birthday isn't for another year, but if you want, sure," Jason picked him up from his car seat. Tellingly, Damian didn't protest or struggle in the least. The trip to the mall had gone well, much to everyone's relief.

After Jason got his burger, their group quickly had to vanish through the crowds to avoid the new gaggle of fans that were clearly planning on stalking them throughout the mall. That did, in fact, lead them to actually shopping, swapping out their current clothing for new pieces, leaving them unrecognizable to the other patrons. Their old clothing was stored into the accompanying shopping bags that came with their new purchases, and carried throughout the rest of the trip.

Following that change, they returned to browsing the mall. They visited various shops, particularly a GameStop that inevitably saw Jason shell out money for new games for Damian and Jon; a toy shop that also inevitably saw Jason shell out even more money for a box of legos and other action figures; and a makeup shop that saw — you guessed it — Jason shell out more money than the former two combined for cosmetics.

Some of the cosmetics had gone to Stephanie, but most of it went to Cass. As the sole female of what was a mostly male household, cosmetics had been one the area that all of them, even Jason, had failed to provide with during their initial shopping trips when they first arrived in Gotham City. That was a purely feminine area that all of them had limited knowledge in; Jason may have raised two daughters, but to say he had help was a vast understatement.

Stephanie, of course, deemed that unacceptable and hadn't hesitated to use Jason's unlimited credit card to ensure her best friend got her fair share of beauty products, with promises to teach her how to apply all of them when they returned to Wayne Manor. Jason had no issues with that (Cass would need to learn anyway for both vigilante and civilian purposes), but also recognized that traipsing around a Sephora would not be enjoyable for him or two boys below the age of ten. So, they had made the decision to split up, with Cass given Jason's credit card while the boys made do with the not insignificant amount of cash he had in his wallet.

While the girls went browsing in the aforementioned Sephora, Jason and the boys wandered around the mall until they happened upon the local play area. A rather large local play area, though considering the size of the mall it seemed rather proportional in comparison. And in this play area, for whatever reason, had a bouncy house set up. Jason vaguely remembered Damian being enamored with bouncy houses during his younger years (Stephanie, unsurprisingly, was to be blame). Of course, with Jon here, that love of bouncy houses could only be redeveloped.

The boys played in there for about a half an hour or so, and then they continued on with their exploration of the mall. Jason spent a significant amount of time in Barnes and Noble, and even managed to get the boys interested in some books for them to read. Not to mention Barnes and Noble's own selection of games, which were both educational and enjoyable. Jason knew immediately what they were going to be doing back home while the girls played dress up, and hoped they wouldn't cry when he trounced them in all of them. Tim wasn't the only one in the family with a competitive streak, they would find out.

Eventually, they met up with the girls a few hours later. Jason got his role of designated pack mule, and they left the mall thankfully unrecognized. Jason wanted to remain as blissfully unaware of his newfound popularity as much as possible. It was already bad enough thinking about the upcoming welcoming gala, knowing he was going to be the center of attention even more than originally thought, lest Brucie did something particularly and spectacularly more stupid than usual.

Maybe I should have Steph go with me or Tim. That would make great payback…

"Master Jason."

"Alfred," Jason acknowledged the butler.

"Might I compliment you on your splendid singing voice? Dare say, have you put any thought of going into theater?"

Jason stared at him. "No."

Alfred's lips twitched.

"No, no, no, nononono NO!" Jason glared at his giggling siblings and their friends, who quickly fled into the Manor, "You're all going to pay for this! I swear it!" He shouted after them, charging into the house with righteous fury.

Alfred watched him go with a fond shake of the head. The young master had not changed nearly as much as he believed himself to have. Quite a refreshing thought, indeed.

The rest of the weekend was spent in much merriment, but alas, like all things, it had come to an end. As Alfred helped Damian and Jon pack the latter's bag for the plane trip home while Jason prepped the car, Stephanie was called into Bruce's office for a private talk with him — alone. Unlike Jon she would not be leaving immediately; living in the same city, just a short drive away, she would make her departure in the afternoon. She had been offered to stay the night, but reluctantly had to refuse. Her schoolwork was at home, and she needed to finish it before Monday morning, which meant no distractions.

With Cass in the bathroom, it was easy for Stephanie to sneak away to Bruce's office at Alfred's direction. A smart girl, she had managed to memorize the path to his private study after numerous games of hide-and-go-seek the previous night (Jon's prerogative; Damian had declared it childish, but played anyway). Nervously, she walked inside, seeing Bruce siting at his desk and sifting through a cache of papers. He wordlessly gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk, eyes having yet to divert from the pages. Reluctantly, Stephanie sat down and waited.

Finally, after a few more minutes, Bruce set the papers down to look directly at her. It took all of Stephanie's nerves to make eye contact and not flinch. It quickly became obvious to her over the course of her stay that whoever the man was in the papers, that man was not the real Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Stephanie had met and seen interacting with her friends was far too intimidating for that, no matter his obvious affection for all of them.

"Mr. Wayne," she ventured quietly, hoping she wasn't being presumptuous.

"Miss Brown," Bruce nodded, then paused. "Stephanie," he corrected with a sigh.

Stephanie didn't say anything. She was too scared to.

"Thank you."

At least, until he said that. "What for?" she couldn't help but blurt out, then blanched.

Bruce ignored her reaction and answered the question instead. "For being a friend to my children. And yes, I do include Tim among them as well. You've been good for them."

"Oh," Stephanie didn't know what to say to that. "Have I really?"

"Yes," Bruce said firmly. "It's been difficult for all of them, having connections outside the family. Dick — my eldest, their older brother — he's a social kind of person. He can't stop making friends, he's simply too nice for that. But for the others…" He trailed off, "They've had difficult pasts. I have no doubt that once they get to know you better and come to trust you more, they'll elaborate on those pasts to you. But for now, just know that they've had their own hardships, and those hardships have made it difficult for them to make friends. To open up. But you've somehow managed to do what others haven't, and I'm grateful for that."

Stephanie blushed. "You don't need to thank me for that, Mr. Wayne. They're my friends. They've done a lot for me too. I was just returning the favor with what little I had."

"Stephanie, you have much more to offer than you think. That much I've seen this weekend, and I'm sure I'll see more of it the more we see each other." Bruce smiled. "As long as this place belongs to our family, you'll always be welcomed here."

The young teenager felt her mouth drop open a bit, and she could only nod in response.

So lost in her thoughts, Stephanie didn't notice Jason watching her depart from the study from the far end of the hallway. He observed her for a moment, before entering the study himself, closing the door behind him. Father and son locked eyes, and Bruce's expression smoothed out into something more neutral.

"You didn't say anything I have to scream at you for, did you?" Jason bluntly asked.

Bruce sighed. "No. I just thanked her for being a good friend to you all and told her she was welcome to visit the Manor any time."

"Good." And suddenly Jason adopted a more mischievous look. "Told you."

"Yes, you did," Bruce conceded. "She's kind. Sunny. Reminds me a little bit of Dick."

"Ah, yes, the favorite son."

"Jason—"

"It's fine, Bruce," Jason waved him off, "Dick was everyone's favorite at one point. Well, him and Cass."

Bruce filed away that statement into the back of his mind. 'At one point' — that sounded ominous, and while Jason was more free with information about the future than he used to be, there were some things he was still very tight-lipped about. The Joker was one such thing. Dick's time as Batman was another.

"Seeing her now, I don't understand why my other self didn't like her at first. She's…good, I guess. I don't really know any other way to explain it."

"I know what you mean," Jason wet his lips, "And as for him…well, he could be very close-minded back then. Paranoid, manipulative — more so than usual, that is to say. And, well, self-righteous too."

Bruce blinked. "What?"

"Bruce, you're different than him in that regard. Very different. And part of that is because of me — I have all this future knowledge in my head, and I'm basically telling you what you did wrong. How bad those kinds of traits can be when you take it too far, when you convince yourself that you and you alone know best," Jason crossed his arms, "Now imagine if I wasn't here. If I hadn't time traveled and come home."

He didn't know what to think. What his son was suggesting…would he have really become like that? Then, thinking back on some things, he felt his stomach drop. "It wasn't just the JLA contingency plans, was it?"

His son smiled mirthlessly. "Those were just the beginning. You did a lot of messed up shit, and what happened between you, Stephanie, and Tim — that was a part of that. Of the mindset you had back then. You grew out of it, or at least tried to, but you also tended to backslide whenever faced with a major tragedy. When you lost something, either by death or otherwise. You never did handle loss well."

And there it was. Another underlying meaning. Something there, some kind of painful regret of his that Jason didn't want to divulge. Bruce knew that in that other timeline, his relationship with Jason hadn't been the best. But other than his initial confrontation and conflict with the Red Hood, Jason hadn't said a word more otherwise. Just said that they eventually worked through it and reconciled for good.

"Jason—"

"No, Bruce," Jason cut him off before he could say more, "It's in the past, and he and I made our peace a long time ago. Telling you now would only hurt you, especially since I know that you will never ever do it in this timeline. Any of it."

"How are you sure?" Bruce demanded, a little harshly.

Instead of answering, Jason walked towards him, and placed a hand over his clutching fist, covering it gently. "Because it wasn't just you, Bruce. It was me too. Granted, what I did didn't prompt such an extreme reaction reaction from you, but it wasn't just that, to be honest. A lot of things factored into what happened and, well…" he sighed, "It doesn't matter anymore. It's long in the past, and you're not the one who did it anyway. Not really. So please — let it go."

Bruce didn't want to let it go. He wanted to know. Perhaps it was the self-flagellation streak that Dick and Jason had both complained about, but he wanted to hear it regardless. But one look at Jason stayed his tongue. Dredging it up now was only going to cause them both pain, and if Jason was right, if it truly wasn't necessary…

"Fine," he finally said, "Fine."

Jason's smile turned genuine. "Good. Now, I've gotta go — the plane is waiting for Jon and we don't want to be late."

As he bid his son farewell, Bruce was once again left with questions. That always seemed to be the case when it came to Jason.

"I love you," were first words out of Tim's mouth the moment Stephanie saw him again, the Monday after her visit to Wayne Manor.

Stephanie blinked. "…What?"

"This," Tim lifted his phone, revealing the video of Jason's little stint at karaoke was playing on it silently, "is your doing, isn't it?"

"Yup," Stephanie said proudly, though she was still a mite confused. "Though I don't see how that was enough for you to promptly claim your undying love for me."

"Are you kidding me?" Tim looked ecstatic. "This is the best thing ever! I'm never going to let him live this down!"

"I thought you liked Jason."

"I do. That doesn't mean he doesn't get on my nerves from time to time." Tim snorted. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he enjoys screwing with me."

Before Stephanie could respond to that, there was loud, collective sound of female screeching from the front of the courtyard. She and Tim watched as a crowd of teenage girls started chasing after a very familiar car as it zoomed down the curb and away from the school. They watched as Damian fought through the crowd, dusting him off and scowling at the lot of them before walking up to his two (much older) friends.

"Harpies," he hissed. Tim said nothing, on the account of guffawing loudly, while Stephanie had a huge grin on her face.

"Like I said — best thing ever," Tim boasted.

Damian scowled at him. "How plebeian of you Drake, to take delight in the suffering of others."

"Please, like you weren't enjoying that," Tim snorted, gesturing at the fleeing crowd of squealing girls.

The younger boy turned around, watching as the car faded from view, and couldn't help but smirk. "I'll admit, the look on his face quite amusing. Especially since I got a photo of it." He lifted his phone to show said photo.

At the sight of his older brother's panicked visage, Tim couldn't help but grin.

The day proceeded normally afterward, aside from numerous girls (and the occasional guy) all pestering Damian, Tim, and even Stephanie about Jason. What he was like in person, where he usually hung out, how to get his attention, etc. While Damian scared them off and Tim avoided them like the plague, Stephanie deliberately gave different answers to every person who asked her that were all as wildly off the mark as possible. Eventually the rumor mill would take her answers, exaggerate them, until the gossip evolved to the point that they would stop asking any of them questions. Or that was the hope, at least.

They made it through the day, and the next day, and the day after that. However, their usual hangouts after school were limited thanks to Jason's newfound popularity. Even disguising himself did not prevent him from eventually being recognized everywhere they went, especially with his car being so distinctive. So, a new method of hanging out had been devised. The three of them would walk to a nearby restaurant and would be met there by Alfred, who would drive them to the Manor to hang out there until the chaos died down. Stephanie found that she didn't mind — she was growing to like the place. It seemed Jason's words were true after all.

So it went for that week, and the week after that. It was the Friday of the third week when everything went to hell.

"The Internet says they're doing an adaption of A Song of Ice and Fire next year on HBO," Tim idly mentioned as they headed towards the day's meeting spot.

"Those really racy grimdark books?" Stephanie clarified, perplexed, "Your parents let you read those?"

"My parents let me do a lot of things. Whether I should have been doing them is another matter entirely."

Damian looked curious. "What's so special about these books? Can I read them?"

"NO!" Tim and Stephanie both exclaimed in unison, looking desperately at Damian, hoping that he'd heed their words.

And now the boy was scowling again. Even after all this time, he was far too used to getting his way. "And why not?"

"Because those books are books no seven year old should be reading, no matter how smart he is," Tim said sternly, Stephanie nodding alongside him. "Not to mention, if Jason finds out you're trying to read them, he's going to kill all of us. Especially me."

Instead of warding the boy off, Damian suddenly looked contemplative. As if Tim's pain would be worth whatever terrible punishment Jason would heap on him.

"No, Damian." And of course, Tim saw that, because he wasn't an idiot.

"You don't control me. You're not Father or Jason or even Alfred."

As the boys began bickering, Stephanie noticed something from the corner of her eye. A large black van behind them, beginning to linger near them. Immediately, she felt her instincts go on fire. Life in the Narrows called for something of a six sense, a gut feeling that allowed one to react immediately when something didn't feel right. And right now, Stephanie realized that something definitely wasn't right.

"Guys…" she started, backing away. The boys continued on, having not heard her.

They did, however, hear the slam of van doors opening. Immediately, both of them turned around to see large men dressed head-to-toe in black spilling out onto the street from not just the van Stephanie saw, but also two others behind it. All three of the children shared a single look before dashing down the sidewalk, trying to escape. This block was unnaturally bare of bystanders besides them, they realized.

Unfortunately, they could only get so far. Damian's legs were short, forcing Tim to stop for a moment to pick him up to go faster. That gave their pursuers just enough time to make the difference and reach them. All three of them stopped as the men encircled them, blocking off any escape routes. Tim slowly set Damian down back on his feet as he prepared himself to fight. He could see Stephanie doing the same, and vaguely remembered that Stephanie also had some martial arts training as well.

There was only a moment before the chaos started. Tim punched the first man that lunged at him and started trying to fight off the others by throwing hits at any hint of black he could see. Stephanie was doing the same, while Damian was helping by attacking their assailants' legs with his backpack and trying to knock them down. This continued for several minutes, but the attacks didn't recede. There was simply too many of them. Even with Tim's advanced training, it wouldn't be enough to take them all out. Direct combat wasn't his specialty, after all, and he didn't have his preferred weapon with him.

Eventually, Tim was thrown onto the hard concrete ground. He groaned for a moment but immediately tried to get up. It was hardly the hardest he had ever been hit. Before he could however, he felt the cold barrel of a gun on his forehead, and froze. He saw Damian grabbed by another of their attackers, and despite his struggling the man refused to let him go.

"Let go of me—!"

"Steph!" He couldn't help but call out as he watched the rest of the men drag his friend away, binding her with rope, blindfolding and gagging her. Damian let out a roar of rage at the sight and started fighting even harder.

Tim was about to act, but the gun stopped him again this time. He gave out a cry of pain as he was pistol whipped, knocking him back to the ground. Then, he felt a heavy weight thrown at him, and a younger, higher pitched cry, and realized one of the men had thrown Damian at him. His head throbbed, his eyes bleary.

He could do nothing as the vans drove away, taking Stephanie with them.

"Why haven't they answered my texts?" Jason wondered as he and Cass exited the therapy center. The session had taken longer than usual, and Jason had messaged his brothers to tell them that they would be late and to wait at the school until they arrived.

Maybe they left their phones on silent? But that didn't feel right. That familiar feeling that something was wrong crept up on him as he and Cass approached the waiting Alfred. He didn't like it.

Ring.

A call. From a number that looked vaguely familiar, though he didn't know why. Jason frowned, and picked it up. "Hello?"

Cass flinched as he suddenly grabbed her arm very tightly.

"What?"

"And how many men were there?" The officer asked lazily, notepad in the palm of his left hand and pencil twirling between the fingers of his right. Tim, head still aching, couldn't even muster up the anger anymore. Neither could Damian, who was wincing as the EMT treated his many scratches and bruises.

"I don't know. Twenty, thirty? There were so many, and they came at us so fast, it was hard to keep count."

"Alright," the officer made a note.

"Tim! Damian!"

The boys turned around to see Jason, quickly trailed by Cass and Alfred, trying to reach them. Another officer quickly stepped in.

"I'm sorry kid, but I just can't let you—"

And suddenly the air grew colder.

There really wasn't any way to explain it. Because the glare Jason shot the man was flat out terrifying. Tim had never seen such anger on his older brother's face before. On anyone's face, really. Not even Bruce could quite compare to that icy look of contained fury. It was scary.

The officer stepped out of the way. The look melted from Jason's face, leaving that same worried expression that had been there when he first arrived. He reached them, with Alfred and Cass in tow.

"Are you two alright?" He asked gently, going down to one knee so they were eye-level. Jason was getting taller, Tim noticed. He did say his growth spurt had been around this age.

"We're fine. Bumps, scratches, and bruises, plus I have a really bad headache from a gun they pistol-whipped me with—" Jason growled at that, as did Cass, while Alfred's countenance visibly darkened, "—but, we're fine. We'll live."

"Good. Bruce is on his way, but he's on the other side of the city and dealing with Gotham traffic, so it might take him a bit." His older brother looked at them both, dead in the eye, "What happened?"

"We were ambushed," Damian spat out bitterly.

"Stephanie noticed them first. A couple black vans had been trailing after us. They were able to hide in the traffic of the school zone, but after we got out of it…" Tim's shoulders sagged. "They cornered us on the street, before we could really react. We tried to escape, but they surrounded us. Then we tried to fight them off but there were too many. Eventually they managed to knock me down and get a hold of Damian. And then…they took Steph."

Jason pursed his lips in surprise. Stephanie? Why Stephanie? Tim and Damian were far more valuable targets. They were the children of Bruce Wayne, for God's sake. Dick could attest to that, considering how many times his civilian identity had been kidnapped and ransomed before he moved to Bludhaven. Even Jason had a fair few kidnappings himself, for the particularly determined ones who did their homework.

Unless this isn't about money, his mind whispered. Stephanie was the target, that much was certain. And if she was taken, then this couldn't be about money. Her mother was the last person anyone would try to coerce money out of, while Arthur Brown was in prison. There was no way he could field the money on such short notice. Something else was going on here, and Jason had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"I should've fought harder," Tim's self-deprecating statements interrupted from thinking on it further. "If I had—"

"Tim, you did everything could," Jason reassured him, "Both of you did, I'm certain. What happened was not your fault; all that's important is that we get her back." He looked at the officer, who was staring boredly at his phone. "I'm certain the GCPD will be doing everything they can to find her, yes?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Great, because my father Bruce Wayne would be dearly disappointed to have his children separated from their friend for so long."

The officer's head shot up. "Bruce Wayne? What does he—" He paled, "Wait a minute, you're…"

Jason smiled. It was not kind. "Walk away, officer. You have all the information you need, and you must get the search underway immediately, yes?"

The man nodded dumbly and then scurried off. Jason let out a huff as he disappeared from view. After a few minutes, the EMT was gone as well, leaving just them.

"When will you be able to leave?" Alfred asked once they were alone.

"When Bruce gets here," Tim answered. "He's still my health care proxy while my dad is in physical therapy and Damian's guardian. Once he arrives, they'll let us go."

"They won't find Brown," Damian suddenly said. He had been quiet throughout the duration of Tim's explanation. The youngest person there looked at his oldest present sibling, frowning. "You know they won't."

"They'll try, which is all that matters right now." Jason leaned over. "Besides, it doesn't matter if they don't find her. We'll find her first."

For the first time today, Damian smiled.

"Nothing?" Jason scowled.

"Nothing." Bruce shook his head. "Whoever did this was a professional. One with a lot of resources."

They were in the Cave, trying to scrounge up any clue they could find that would lead to Stephanie's location. Tim and Damian had both given their own personal accounts about what happened before being sent off to their rooms to sleep off the exhaustion of the day, while Jason had taken pictures of the crime scene when no one was looking. The next step had been to access any security cameras within the area for footage of the attack.

Except all the security cameras had been inexplicably off during that window. Combined with both Tim and Damian both claiming that the area had been unnaturally clear of bystanders — and thus, extra witnesses — at the time of the abduction, it painted a very bleak picture. Someone had been planning this, they knew that much already, but now it was obvious they had been planning this for a lot longer than any of them had thought. And for them to have been so thorough…

Well, maybe it was just paranoia speaking, but Jason had a feeling that it was more to it than that. His gut was rarely ever wrong, after all.

To add to their worries, they had Crystal Brown currently staying with them at the Manor. Bruce had gone personally with the police to deliver the news of Stephanie's abduction. The poor woman had been devastated to hear about her daughter's kidnapping, wailing about her ex-husband, and Bruce ultimately didn't have the heart to leave her all by her lonesome. She had been brought to the Manor and cared for and comforted by Alfred and Cass ever since.

"Okay, so the abduction itself is a bust. What about motive? Why would someone want to take Stephanie specifically? It can't be for money."

"Arthur Brown?" Bruce suggested, then frowned. "No, it can't be him. He's still in prison. He doesn't have the resources right now. Maybe someone with an axe to grind, but anyone with a grudge against him could easily just have a hitman slipped into Blackgate to kill him."

"Unless he pissed off someone like Black Mask," Jason pointed out. The likes of Roman Sionis, after all, were never above going after innocent women and children for petty grudges.

"Perhaps, but Brown is smart. He knows better than to cross the likes of someone such as Black Mask. Unless…" He looked at Jason pointedly.

Jason blinked then shook his head furiously. "No. It can't be them."

"Jason—"

"It's too obvious, Bruce. They've gone hundreds of years unnoticed — why would they blow their cover so blatantly right now?"

"They haven't. There's only two witnesses, remember?"

"And that's still two witnesses too many. Besides, why go after Steph? There's no way Brown has discovered them yet. He would've never survived prison as long as he has if he already knew about them." The Court of Owls, after all, weren't ones to suffer for loose ends.

Bruce pursed his lips. "Okay, if it's not them, then who else? And why?"

The pit in his stomach, and the thought that came with it sprung to mind. "Us. They took her to get to us."

Rather than dismiss it outright, Bruce looked contemplative. "Then why not take Tim or Damian? Damian in particular. He'd be far easier to subdue and keep under control, at least at a glance."

"It's like you said, at a glance." Jason waited a moment for Bruce to catch his line of thought. He was rewarded with his father turning pale at the implication.

"You think they know about us. About our secret."

"It's the only thing that makes sense. We've ruled out Arthur Brown completely and Crystal Brown is clean — relatively speaking. That just leaves us. And yet, they didn't go after the obvious targets. They didn't go after Damian, the youngest of us, or Dick, who's living by himself and is technically the most vulnerable out of all of us. No, they went after Steph — the only one associated with us that doesn't have training. The one with the least chance of escaping on their own should they be captured. And the only people who would know that—"

"—Are people who know we're Gotham's vigilantes." Bruce finished, cursing. "Dammit."

Jason sympathized. "Now, we need to ask: is it someone we know? Or a new player?"

Before Bruce could answer, a buzzer sounded in the Cave. It was a warning one used to indicate when someone was at the front door. Reluctantly, both men ended their conversation and made their way back upstairs.

"This is it? This is all they left?" Crystal whispered, gazing at the piece of paper in disbelief.

"Yes. Forensics already has the original, but had a sketch made just in case," Jim Gordon gruffed out. "Does it mean anything to you?"

Crystal shook her head, almost on the verge of tears again.

"Jim?" Bruce called out as he walked down the stairs, Jason trailing behind him.

"Bruce," Jim nodded to his friend, "We finally have a lead on the girl. Though it's not much of one."

"What is it?"

Gently, Jim took the paper out of Crystal's trembling hand, and then flashed it to the billionaire. Both Waynes blinked.

It was the picture of an eye.

"Does this mean anything to you?"

"I—no," Bruce shook his head, taking the parchment for himself. He stared at it for a long moment, before handing it off to Jason. "Where did you get this?"

"Someone dropped it off at the precinct, in an envelope that was simply addressed as 'For Stephanie'. That's just a copy. We're running forensics on the original right now."

As the two men entered a deep conversation, Jason stared hard at the picture. Something about it was nagging at him, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Instead, he took note of the details. It was a slim eye, but nothing really particular about it. It certainly wasn't shaped liked Stephanie's eyes, which were much more rounded. The only thing that really stuck about it was the eyelid, which was much more pronounced. It made the eye look half-lidded.

Half-lidded eye. Half-lidded…eye…

Jason felt his heart stop.

"Commissioner," everyone looked at him, "When you found this drawing, when you took it out of the envelope, was it like this?" He showed the picture of the eye. "Or like this?" He turned the drawing around, so the eye was now vertical.

Jim and Crystal still looked confused. But it wasn't them he was looking at. He saw Bruce blanch, and knew that his father recognized the symbol too.

A symbol of transformation. Of creation.

Of destruction.

At least we know who took Stephanie now. Jason pursed his lips. Of course, that's hardly a comfort, considering who it is.

After what seemed like hours of driving, they had finally stopped somewhere. She had heard doors opening and closing, talking and a lot of shouting. Bound as she was, she could hardly move or react to any of it. She was a captive, after all, and captives weren't allowed to have any agency unless their captors wanted something from.

It took some time for them to carry her out of the van. She didn't struggle — she knew it was fruitless. The knots were too tight. They set her down on a chair, and removed the blindfold.

Stephanie blinked languidly as light returned to her eyes. She was in a warehouse of some sort, she quickly noticed. Probably recently abandoned. The place didn't look as decrepit as the warehouses she had seen in her neighborhood, and some of the machinery still looked to be in working order. The men that had attacked her friends and taken her were all standing in some sort of formation, at attention. Suddenly, they went to their knees, prostrating themselves as woman walked into view.

She was a beautiful woman of Asian descent. Long black hair, sharp features, alluring eyes, and a body Stephanie could only dream of having when she was older. This was the kind of woman that you'd see in the society pages, online, in movies — places so removed from reality, you could hardly believe they were even real.

Except she was real. She was real, she was right in front of Stephanie, and there was something achingly familiar about her that the teenager just couldn't put her finger on. Even more than that, there was something off about her. Something that made her hairs stand on end.

Stephanie was no stranger to dangerous people. She lived in the Narrows, after all, and her father might be a C-list supervillain and a relative failure as a criminal, but he was still that — a criminal. He cavorted with criminals, brought them to their home, worked with them and inevitably was jailed with them. She always dreaded his eventual return, because she knew he'd never change, that one day he'd cross someone more dangerous than himself and her mother and her would pay the price. That had always been her great fear, the thing that inspired the nightmares that kept her up at night.

Was this woman one such person? Because Stephanie could instantly tell that she was far beyond whatever her father was. This woman set her instincts on fire in a way that a lonely trek through Crime Alley at night couldn't. Every bit of her exuded menace. Stephanie knew, in her heart of hearts, that she was staring at a bonafide killer, and some part of her dreaded what was to come next, whatever that was.

"You are scared," the woman said with a svelte voice. She smirked. "Good."

Stephanie remained silent, but she also didn't dare look away.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Slowly, she shook her head.

"If you are wondering if it's because of your pathetic father, don't bother. His name isn't even worth leaving my lips," she continued, as if Stephanie hadn't responded at all. "No, my dear, this is not about your father. It's about your friends. One in particular."

Friends? Stephanie didn't have many friends, just—No. No way.

Now she realized why this woman felt so familiar, looked so familiar. She looked just like…like…

"You've realized it, haven't you?" The woman smirked. "Very well then, let me introduce myself. My name…is Lady Shiva."

The symbol is the third eye of Lord Shiva, from Hindu mythology. I'll admit I know nothing about Hinduism, so I had to do a bit of research for this. The reason why Jason and Bruce didn't recognize it immediately is because it was lacking the markings that are usually associated with the eye. Shiva couldn't make it too obvious, after all.

Now then, it's going to be a while before my next update. The reason why is because I've decided to do this story for Camp NaNoWriMo in April (you know, with Coronavirus and all pretty much sheltering us inside), and want to leave as much material as possible. I've already finished planning out the first half of the story, and will do the second half over the course of this week. Then I'll start writing the next chapters.

On another note, To Hell and Back is still on hold for the time being. I will get back to it, though when will be a while. I just can't scrounge up the motivation to write for the Arrowverse right now. The comics allow a lot more liberty.

Speaking of that, I've got a new idea in my head for another Jason Todd story. It's a really unique idea, but also requires a lot of planning and work. There's so much researching and worldbuilding that will have to go into it, it won't be ready for writing for months. However, I still want to do it. I'll elaborate on it more once I do some more thinking about it, but just a quick warning.

Next chapter: The beginning of the fated clash with Lady Shiva!