The Red Right Hand

by Ophelia'song

Dick Grayson learns that some ghosts aren't so easily laid to rest when he returns to Gotham to visit his troubled friend Roy. In conversation, he learns some disturbing information about the man who once stood to destroy him—Slade. With his team on the verge of ruin, Nightwing finds himself in a dispute with the Justice League that may cost him his leadership and possibly more.

30. People are Strange

A/N: Hey guys, I apologies that this took so long, but this chapter needed a lot of work and I have been super busy with my new job that I love and my educator training. I've also been working on some side projects (one of them being a Rose / Jason fic that isn't cut content, but an actual 3 to 4 chapter story about how they met. I'm told by my friend Josh that it's pretty funny. I'm hoping to have it up by March, fingers crossed). But I will say, getting into the end of this story has been challenging. Chapter 34 is is finally done, but it's a mess so wish me luck on editing it. I have started chapter 35 and am about halfway through and that chapter seems to becoming along well. I'm so close I can taste.

Thank you to all of you still reading I know this wait has been unfair and unwelcome, but I only have so much time and I appreciate you guys taking time out of your lives to read and share your thoughts. I really appropriate the feed back. And thank you to all of you readers who checked in on me that means a lot that you missed this story enough to drop in. I love you all and hope to get you next (sloppy) update soon.

-With Love, Ophelia

Chapter 30

People Are Strange

"People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down."

-The Doors

The early part of the night remained quiet with only the occasional thin whine of Robert's childish antics and giggles. X manned the bar with help from Eddie who was still a little miffed about Trilby, but did not even breathe a word of it. Duela had left for the night, saying little as she went. Enigma had watched her from the corner, staring up from the old book in her hands, her eyes quizzical, and her words silent.

The door opened and the three friends returned, Roy no longer in their company. Wally smiled supportively, noticing their tired faces and surreal expressions.

"How'd it go?" he asked as Donna leaned over and lifted her child.

"It was… different," she replied. "It's definitely harder when it's someone you love."

The speedster nodded. "Do you think he'll get through it?"

"He better," Jason snapped wearily and slammed down his empty shot glass.

"We'll just have to wait and see," Dick added. "It's a hard mountain to climb."

Donna nodded, her son now resting on her hip. She glanced over at Jason, now on his second shot, the idea of addiction weighing heavy on his present and his past.

"Well I'm gonna turn in," Dick said and gave Donna a hug. He bid Wally goodnight, the speedster trying his hand at a light joke which earned him a slight chuckle. Jason glanced over at him and simply nodded, saying nothing as he lifted the drink X had poured him.

Dick paused glancing back at the Outlaw, the sight a bit troubling. "Hey can I talk to you for a second?"

Jason shrugged, but agreed, taking his glass with him and followed Dick into the hall. "What?"

"You okay?"

The Outlaw's eyes rolled in response and a sigh fell from his lips. "Yeah, it's nothing a little bit of alcohol won't fix."

"Yeah that's kinda why I asked," Dick lamented. "That couldn't have been easy for you?"

"Doesn't matter, it's not about me." He took a sip of his drink and leaned against the wall. "This whole thing with Roy is just dredging up some old shit, that's all."

"I know," Dick understood. "And that's why I'm concerned."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Jason replied. "Or drink away."

Dick remained silent and shook his head; Jason had a lot of ghosts and far too many skeletons in his closet. "Sounds productive."

"Y'know what would be really productive?" Jason droned. "Not worrying about me." The Outlaw smiled patronizingly and opened a carton of freshly packed cigarettes. "From what I understand, Raven is upstairs waiting for you." He lifted his lighter, taking a drag and said, "Go get your girl, Grayson."

"Whatever, try not to drink too hard."

The hero's head turned toward the stairwell, looking upward toward the prospect ahead. He turned back to Jason as he chased his smoke with the burn his whisky, the Outlaw catching his reluctance to leave him alone.

"Don't worry," the Outlaw droned, "I'm only gonna drink till my liver hurts."

"You're an asshole, you know that, right?"

"Perfectly aware and not even just a little bit sorry."

"You'll be sorry when everyone stops giving a shit."

"You say that, but you're still here."

"For now," Dick added warily, the Outlaw raising a brow as he shrugged.

"Y'know what they say, Dick, Angels fall first."

"If that's the case then what does that say about you?"

Jason smiled as the irony rolled off his tongue without a second thought, "That you're no better than me."

"Fair."

8888

She watched him mess with the remote, the few channels they had access to, dull and vapid. Nothing but aging men reading the result of paternity tests and cheating spouses apologizing for the umteenth time.

Helena stood by the window as she looked back at him, his face reading of frustration as the local news station read off the local tragedies and going-ons of Gotham.

"Maybe you should just shut if off?" she suggested as he clearly wasn't finding anything to his liking.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" he snapped.

She shrugged, glancing out the window once more. "I don't know, but you fuming at the TV is not helping either of us."

He threw down the remote and crossed his arms, pouting like a child. She was still rather cold toward him, upset that he'd given up important information, not caring that it was for her well-being.

"Why don't you get away from that window and come talk to me?"

She sighed in frustration. "If I do, who's gonna keep watch?"

"Your dad's not gonna find us, not this quick."

She turned to him and crossed her arms. "We shouldn't be here, we are way too close to home," she replied as the two had taken up lodging in a small town outside of Blüdhaven.

Mikey rose to his feet, approaching her, though her body language did not welcome it.

"Listen Babe," he said placing his hand on her shoulder, rigid and heavy, "I told you, we'll leave tomorrow once my uncle gets us our tickets and passports, then we're gone, promise. But right now, there is nowhere we can go. So please, just relax?"

She looked back at him, he was right, there was nothing he could do and until his uncle came through, they were stuck there.

"Okay," she replied, trying to shake off her chilliness.

He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. "We're gonna get through this, okay?"

She nodded in reply and he kissed the top of her head as he pulled her in.

"I'm gonna go get some ice," he said and reached for the bucket. "Don't open the door for anyone. I'll be right back."

"I know," she breathed and plopped down on the bed, watching him as he closed the door behind him.

She fell back on the bed and glared into the emptiness above her, her mind scrambling for something familiar and solid, but there was little to hold onto. All she had was Michael and somehow, in the moment, that just didn't seem to be enough anymore.

He walked down the motel walkway, making his way toward the ice bin. He glanced out at the parking lot, the pavement empty as he continued toward the edge of the walk. A maintenance man passed him, tipping his hat as he went, his tool box in tow. Mikey glanced back, the man continuing down the path, the young man watching him as he entered a room not far from his own. He took a deep breath and turned to the ice bin again, opening the lid and taking the metal scoop in his hand.

He began to fill the pale, the sound of ice crashing, echoing down the walkway, the only thing filling the void. He glanced up ahead and paused, thinking he saw the sight of a pretty girl, dressed all in black, smiling back at him. But before he could recollect what was before him, she was gone. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, chalking it up to too much alcohol and placed the scoop down. He began to lower the lid, when suddenly the muffled sound of a firearm could be heard. Suddenly the world fell away, and the only thing he could see was her smile as she took his hand.

888

Raven waited alone in the apartment, reading an old translation of Medea (Note: Not the sassy black woman portrayed in Tyler Perry films, whom I love dearly.) taking in each line of betrayal and revenge with a grain of salt. Below, she could hear the soft mutter of voices, their presence somewhat palpable as they rose through the floor.

She turned the page, reading a line, footsteps fast approaching:

In my case, however, this sudden blow that has struck me has destroyed my life. I am undone, I have resigned all joy in life, and I want to die. For the man in whom all I had was bound up, as I well know—my husband—has proved the basest of men.

She paused a moment, realizing how distant the concept was, thankful the practice of dowries was merely a memory. At least in western culture. Still, there was something to be said for both men and women in a union of marriage, and how much that dynamic had changed, especially in the current social climate. Roles had changed, and more importantly—women had changed, Or had they? She could be certain that men hadn't. A concept which left her vexed, though not for the reasons many would sight. For she'd witnessed and tasted firsthand the expendability of men and the expectation they were tied to.

But still, to look at the roles of men and women without any true consideration would only lead one to believe the worst in both sexes, and it was clear by the hypocrisy faced by both, neither could exist without the other.

She heard the door open and looked up as he walked in. She caught his glance as he smiled at her warmly. She returned the gesture as the door came to a close and he turned to approach her.

"Hey," Dick said, with a tired smile. "What y'reading?" he asked approaching the bed.

She held up the book, bearing the old translation across the aged cover.

"Not exactly a romantic choice," Dick chuckled, earning a grin.

"Like I've ever been the romantic type?" she replied lightly, but with a vague coldness.

"True," he shrugged. "Didn't you write an essay on that play for a gender studies class?"

She nodded, her face holding some aged embarrassment. "I did; I actually think it was the catalyst to that feminist faze I went through. I haven't read it since though."

"How do you feel about it now?" he asked sitting down beside her.

She took a deep breath and shrugged. "Before, I saw it as a story about a woman dealing with the infidelity of her husband and mourning the death of her marriage, all while cursing her place in society. But now, I see it more as a play about two people in the final death throes of a dying union."

"So it's about divorce, got it," Dick replied, sort of understanding the concept first hand. "Charming read?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Only if you like dead children?"

"Well in that case," Dick said taking the book and placing on the bedside table, "maybe you should focus on something else?"

"Like what?" she asked with a slight intrigue.

He smiled and pushed back a lock of her hair. "Like maybe us?"

Her smile faded as she looked at him a little taken back. "Um… what about us?" she asked coyly.

Dick shrugged, not really sure what he wanted to say. "I don't know, I kissed you and… I don't know how you feel about that?"

"Because I don't know how I feel about it?" Raven replied as she watched him flinch at her response.

"Oh… I guess I thought—"

"Shit... that's not what I meant," she said halting him and paused trying to weave her words. "What I meant was: I care about you, I care about you a lot and at the risk of sounding a little obsessive, I will dare say: I love you…"

Dick's heart fell heavy at her tone. "But?"

"I'm afraid."

"That we won't work?"

She nodded. "Yes, but it's more than that. I mean, you're the most important person in my life and… I don't… I don't wanna lose you." She fell silent a moment, her mind wandering through another conflict. "I want this, I really do, but part of me feels I owe her some loyalty too."

He glanced away and nodded. "I get that, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of that too, but I don't know, Rae..."

"Okay I'm just gonna go ahead and say this" she began, "you just got out of a very long, very serious relationship, with my friend nonetheless, and though I think you made the right choice, I know part of you still isn't over it… And I'm afraid I'll only be a distraction for you."

"Raven," Dick defended once more, "I would never do anything like that to you. I —"

"Not intentionally," she replied, cutting him off. "But, if there is one thing I've learned from you and Kory both, it's: love is a complicated emotion and it changes—it changes everything… and if at some point, you and I reach a place to explore that, then I wanna know you mean it." She watched as he stared at her and looked away, chewing on the irony. "Whatever you and Kory had, and possibly still do, you're still working to get passed it. I guess I just think it's best that maybe, we wait?"

At first he said nothing, taking pause as he looked back at her wide eyed.

"You're right," Dick finally admitted, but he didn't want her to be. "I don't know what I want anymore, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel like whatever is between us now, has been for a long time… am I wrong?"

"No," Raven admitted, shaking her head, "there's always been something there. I just don't think you noticed."

Dick glanced away as if watching all he'd ever had fall through the floor. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"When?" Raven laughed daringly. "While you were bitching to me about Kory spending too much money on extravagant shit you were ashamed of? Or while you were telling me you loved her? How could I do that?"

He glanced away, her words cutting him, but he knew he deserved it. "Fair…"

"Not that it mattered," she added as her violet eyes drifted to the ceiling, looking to the cracks for direction. "I never thought dating or having a normal life was in the cards for me and, frankly, I thought you'd be better off without me."

Dick flinched at the pain in her voice. "And if you knew then what you know now, would that have changed anything?"

"I can't really answer that," she said ironically, her eyes growing glassy. "I mean, Star was my friend, and she loved you—she loved you in a way I couldn't, and well, I felt I owed it to you both to not get in the way. And again, if I'm being perfectly honest, I don't think it would have worked then."

He took in everything she said and breathed it in, "Do you think it could work now?"

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this conversation," she replied, "but what about you? What if I had told you?"

He stared at her a moment, his heart knowing exactly what he wanted to say, but his mind appealed to her logic. "I don't know. I don't think we would have worked all those years ago, we were in different places. As for now, I think we could work."

"But we both have to want that."

"And we do… don't we?"

"That doesn't mean it will work."

"Doesn't mean it won't either, Raven."

"Richard," Raven asserted rising to her feet, "I love you, I do, but if I lose you, I have nothing, and neither do you."

He took her face in his hands, gently, looking back at her, her love for him somehow painful to her, and it was only now he saw it always had been.

"Raven, I love you."

He pressed his lips to hers, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. At first she seemed shocked, but soon let out a soft breath and snaked her arms around his neck, momentarily losing herself as he took hold of her. A long moment passed as the years of tension lit the flame between them, letting their hearts' burn. Until the cold wash of guilt doused her, only then was she finally able to break from him.

"Dick, I can't," she whined painfully, her heart and body yearning for him, her conscience and mind screaming with warning.

"I'm sorry," Dick pleaded, realizing he'd probably overplayed his hand. The soft lines on her face like that of a sonnet: sorrowful and tragic, torn between love and loyalty.

She crossed her arms as he stepped forward and he paused. "Maybe I should sleep in Mia's room tonight?" she suggested coldly.

He remained there, at a loss for words, not really sure what to do. "Raven that's not—"

"It is," she concluded, noting her tone wounded him. She glanced away and rubbed her shoulders distantly. "I just need a little space to think, okay? I need to figure out what I want and what's best... for both of us."

"Okay," Dick replied startled.

She glanced away from him, his fear and regret taking form in every line on his face, but it was his dejection that cut clean through her heart. Raven finally pulled herself together and began collecting her things. Dick watched as she did so, his heart sinking as she headed for the door, opening it with haste. He wanted to tell her to stop, but feared it would spur her further away. Still, he had to say something:

"Raven wait."

She stopped and looked back from the open doorway through glassy eyes.

"Why now—why last night?

Her sight shot away from him a moment as she laid her final card on the table and replied, "I was only trying to help… but I guess I fucked everything up."

"I'm sorry," was all he could say.

"Don't be," she replied as a tear slipped down her cheek, "you' were only being honest…" she wanted to say something more, but couldn't quite conjure the words. "But I'm sorry too… if I had just waited then…"

"Then what?"

She shrugged with a painful smirk. "Then I wouldn't be breaking your heart."

She closed the door, hating herself for walking out on him, her emotions falling numb on her tongue and her heart caught between two burning ends. And in confusion, she left.

Dick watched the door close, feeling her drift away, cursing himself for wearing his heart too heavy on his sleeve. But still, he knew she was right: The timing was bad. He sat on the bed and waded through the mire, going over all the moments he'd realized he loved her, but never told her, not until now. And it was in that instant he asked himself, will the timing ever be right?...

8888

She looked up ahead, the passing traffic muddled by the streams of headlights as they passed. A man's voice called out to her form, but hardly reached her. Her face was blank and distant while her mind replayed the scene, recalling the sight of the ominous mask. It's colors divided by two dueling sides, much like herself, but only one eye. Leaving her to ponder how she'd arrived here.

She did as the letter requested and met the British man just outside the Red Hood's territory, knowing if she'd been seen with the enemy that her head would surely end up on the chopping block. She thought back to the moment she saw that one solid headlight cut through the dark, reminding her of an old song that made her think of Jason. The old black Austin Mini pulled up, the classic car clearly misplaced among the dingy streets of this low part of Gotham. The car halted beside her, the driver rolling down the original manual window:

"Duela Dent?" asked a white haired man with a rich British accent, the car suddenly fitting.

She nodded and he ordered her to get in. The ride was mostly silent, the only real words being spoken, were his request that she buckled her seat belt and remove her hood. She'd performed the former without protest, but professed she'd rather not comply with the second. He then clarified that the latter was indeed not a request, but rather a demand and reiterated that she removed her hood. Duela paused, she didn't like the idea, but soon came to understand she'd have to. She took a deep breath, pulling down the guard she held unwillingly, but she was under his terms now and she had to do what was expected of her.

"See that wasn't so bad," he said peering at her features in the dull glow of the passing lamp light. "It should be a crime to cover such a pretty face. That makeup you wear is far too garish."

She pressed her lips together as she glanced away and didn't reply. The black remnants of her eyeliner still smeared beneath and around her eyes, staining her lashes. She hardly ever let anyone see her without makeup, and could never bring herself to completely wash it off. She just wasn't comfortable with anyone truly seeing her face.

The old car turned down an old side street and came to a halt. She looked up before her at the great building, an old factory no longer utilized, as so many like it. Simply left to rot in the modern day boneyard known as Gotham City.

They entered the building, moving through the shadows and empty hallways, that led her before the sight of Him. She remained paused, reality sinking in that she was now face to face with her enemy. Face to face with the man who carried the real power.

"Hey," she heard the British man say, "You weren't asked here to dillydally. Now—"

"Wintergreen," the masked man said, cutting him off, "that won't be necessary. Take a seat, I can take it from here."

The British man looked back at his old friend and superior, nodding as he desisted from his charge. "Of course," he replied and took his place at the table.

The masked man then rose, his stature abnormally broad as he stood at a great height. He looked in her direction, the mask keeping his face gilded and expressionless. "Why don't you take a seat, Ms. Dent?" he suggested, his voice unthreatening, but there was still something dishonest about it.

She walked forward, approaching the table and took a seat across from his menacing presence. She could feel his lone eye watching her, the pervasiveness of the stare uncompromised by this anatomical defect. She reached in her pocket, taking hold of the note she'd been given and removed it, unfolding the paper before the man across from her.

"Is it true?" she asked.

"If you're referring to the matter of your paternity, then yes. I do, indeed, possess that information," Slade replied, resting his hand upon a sealed manila envelope. "However, before I disclose this information to you, I'll need something in return."

She shuttered a moment as his voice slipped down her spine like a serpent. "And what would that be?"

His head tilted as though he were slightly amused. "The only currency you have to offer me, my dear, is information."

"Information?" she quarried.

"Yes," he replied, "think of it as a simple exchange. You tell me what you know, and, in turn, I'll tell you what I know."

She glanced away. "What do you wanna know?"

"The Red Hood, what's he planning, what are his motivations? Whether or not I have anything to worry about?"

"So you want me to rat," she said flatly, her suspicion coming to fruition.

"Think of it more as a business deal," he replied pragmatically. "We both have access to information that could greatly aid the other. I'd also be willing to negotiate the price."

"So you think it's that simple?" she questioned shaking her head. "That I'll just rat out my friends, all because you might hold the key? How do I even know I can trust you?"

There was a slight chuckle, like she could hear him smirk. "I don't expect this to be easy for you. You're a woman of small means, you're not motivated by power or money. Greed is not the hand you hold, nor is it the principle you're married to. Truth, however—your very existence, the who and why you've been searching for, now that is something that could move anyone."

She stared back at him with perplexion, a little awe struck by the comment.

Slade smiled beneath his mask, there was something about her expression that left him hopeful. "It's a hard pill to swallow, not knowing who you are, or where you come from—not knowing why they gave you up. It's hard to live with that kind of uncertainty. Especially someone like you, driven by two different forces, but unlike most people, your dueling sides are both adversarial in nature. Each side attempts to construct a truth, but it's little more than a delusion, hardly worth the breath it's woven by."

"You don't know anything about me."

He chuckled audibly. "No, my dear, I know everything about you."

"Then you should understand how lonely my life has been? How I've only had myself?"

He shook his head. "Loneliness, my dear, is something I care little about. People, they come and go, they change, that's just the way life works. There is loyalty, and I value that, but loyalty can be bought and sold for the right price or the right ambition. Therefore, loneliness is a necessary evil I'm willing to live with."

She smiled antagonistically. "Even at the expense of your own daughter deserting you?"

The man grew dreadfully silent as his posture stood rigid, his stare harder than it had been a moment ago. "If you wish to leave here alive, you won't speak of my daughter again." He looked over at Wintergreen and nodded toward Duela, his cold eye not even moving from her. Wintergreen rose from his seat, a large envelope in hand as Slade continued. "There are consequences to meeting with me and I think you're smart enough to know that. You're so called "friends" would never accept this secrecy. Even the idea of entertaining my request would at a minimum leave you exiled, or worse—dead."

Duela shuddered knowing her very presence before the red fisted man could leave her stricken with more anguish than she ever sought.

"This leads me to believe that part of you is, indeed, willing to forgo the kinship you've worked so hard to forge. I mean, it must sting a little knowing the Hood would just throw you aside like some broken doll, or maybe he already has?"

She glanced away, knowing there was some truth to the accusation. "So what, are you going to use that as leverage?"

"No," he replied evenly and lifted his hand toward Wintergreen, "You'll tell me what I need to know, but you'll do it of your own volition." Wintergreen placed down the envelope and stepped away. "All you have to do is go home and think about it. And if you find yourself feeling pragmatic, then you can write down all the details and bring them back to me. Only then we'll make the exchange, and only then will you finally know who your father is."

"You actually know who my father is?" She replied forgetting herself.

"I do," Slade smiled beneath his mask, "and it's a secret I'm willing to share with you."

She laughed cynically and shook her head. "So how am I supposed to know that what you're saying is true? How do I know the information you're giving me isn't fake?"

"It's not. I had your DNA extracted by a trusted party who knew you quite well. I had that sample tested and was able to match your genetic profile to one individual in the National Database. And I can tell you, personally, that the secret of your paternity is quite delicious. As for preserving the truth…"

Wintergreen pushed the envelope in front of her and stepped away.

"What's this?"

"An incentive," Slade replied, "open it."

She lifted the envelope and bent the clasp up, then removed a stack of Polaroid photos, alarm and disgust over taking her. Her hand fell over her mouth, barely muffling her cries as she recognized the girl.

"Trilby," she whined, "what—what have you done to her!?"

"That, my dear is what happens when you think you can play my game and win."

Duela's eyes welled up with tears as she looked down at the bloody photos, a mad clown running a sharp blade across the corner of the girl's bloodied mouth, her scream frozen while a crazed blonde giggled antagonistically. Her head shot up as she stared at the man, horrified, reality burning in her heart.

"You see, Duela, that's what happens when you become a loose end."

She glanced down at the photos again, her eyes rife with the sight of the girl being butchered.

He continued. "If there is one thing I know about you, Ms. Dent, it's that you live up to your name. You have a clear line running through the center of your morality. People like you, you're driven by self-preservation. You know nothing else."

"What if you're wrong?" she replied choking back a sob. "What if I'm not as selfish as you make me out to be?"

Slade smiled beneath his mask, amused the girl had more fight than he'd previously thought. He gestured to Wintergreen, and as if on cue, the Brit threw down another set of photos. In them, another young woman documented as she went about her daily tasks, completely unaware of her likeness being captured. Duela drew back, feeling sick as her eyes reflected that hard reality she was now faced with.

"I think I've given you enough to consider over the next few days," Slade concluded. "Wintergreen, why don't you escort Ms. Dent home?"

"Of course, sir," the Brit replied.

Slade then rose from the table and began to step away, but stopped just as Duela stood. "Oh and Ms. Dent," he added smugly, "a word of this to anyone, and you can consider Ms. Nigma as dead as that slut barmaid in the photographs. I'd also keep in mind that if Red Hood even catches the near scent of this conversation that I am the only person with the power to protect you. And you and I both know, he will kill you."

More tears fell down her face, as Wintergreen then pulled her away, her tongue numb as it remained paralyzed. Her mind torn, split between two very different worlds.

"I strongly urge you to take my proposal into consideration," Slade added smugly. "As I cannot guarantee the Hood will not catch on to our meeting."

A panicked look took over her as Slade ordered the girl be taken home to think about her options. And before she knew it, she was ushered out of his presence and guided out of the building like a fool with no humor.

The British man looked over at her as she glared into the deep sea of nothing up ahead. "Can you make it home from here?"

At first she didn't look, trapped and reliving the prior moment. He called her name, but still nothing. Until he finally took hold of her face, wrapping his fingers around her chin and pulling her in his direction.

"I said: Can you make it home from here?"

She looked over at him from the passenger seat, as though he'd asked her something horribly complicated.

"If you can't," he added slowly, "I can make arrangements to have someone take you?"

She said nothing and opened her door to step out into the moonlight, turning her back on him when he reached out and grabbed her. Her head whipped around, a look of horror and fury woven together madly on her face.

"Remember," he said looking through her, "not a word to anyone."

"I know," she replied, pulling her arm free. "I'm upset—not retarded."

"I know that," Wintergreen replied. "But the trauma you've witnessed is written all over your face. I suggest you get your act together before you go home."

"And what if I don't go home?" She said leering back to him. "What would Slade do then?"

Wintergreen smiled and pressed his lips together to speak. "That would be something, I might even commend it, but you and I both know you'll do nothing of the sort."

"And what makes so sure of that?" she asked, trying to hide her bluff.

"Because self-preservation is the sword you're willing to die on. And as long as there is something to gain or something to lose, you'll fall on that sword until it finally kills you."

She looked ahead, completely devoid and stepped out of the car, shutting the door.

"I'll meet you here in this very spot in 4 nights," Wintergreen said before she turned away. "That should give you plenty of time to compose your answer."

She frowned in disdain and turned away. "You say that as if I have a choice."

"You do have a choice, my dear, but it's a choice you're not willing to die for."

She still held the crumpled paper in her hand, wedged between her fingers and sweaty palm.

"You should go," Wintergreen suggested, "you wouldn't want anyone to notice your absence, though if they notice and you never came home, well that would certainly be a game changer."

She glared at him cold and lost, through the eyes of a terrified animal with nothing but the will to survive driving her further. But still, in that moment, she was ignorant of the reason why, and that was the reason he chose her.

8888

The day had finally arrived as the paperwork had been finalized and approved by both Wayne Enterprises and the City of Gotham. News organizations and media outlets had shown up in droves, each one whoring for a sound bite, anything they could spin for a story.

Bruce had finally arrived, making his way to the entrance, sighing at the size of the crowd. Alfred set the car in park and looked back at the man, his face distant and removed from the present.

"This is it, sir. It seems that Time has finally set on this memory."

Bruce looked forward, his eyes holding a look Alfred had only seen once before. "Time can only fade a memory, it can never quite take it away."

"I know, Master Bruce," Alfred replied. "But the sun has to set before it can rise again."

"And that's exactly what I intend to do here."

Bruce stepped out of the car, bracing himself against the crowd. Alfred watched, much like a father as his son set off into the world.

"Now if only you'd just let the sun set over the mantle of the Batman," the old man said to himself, the echo of the crowd eating his words.

The crowd was thick, reporters thrusting microphones toward him, yipping like rabid dogs, salivating over meaningless words.

"Mr. Wayne, is it true this youth center will improve Gotham's rising gang problem?" one journalist asked.

Bruce put on his playboy face and smiled. "One can only hope," he replied, "but my true intention is to provide a safe place for our children to go and be provided with resources that they may otherwise not have access to."

"Then what do you say about the accusations about your company trying to gentrify the neighborhood?" another reporter asked, a woman known as Viki Vale who Bruce had been friendly with since high school.

"The intention is not to affect the tax bracket," Bruce assured with a smile, "but again, improving the quality of education and safety for the youth of our city is the priority."

Viki smiled and followed with another question."Mr. Wayne, are you aware of the rumor that the demolition of this historic site is personally motivated?"

"It simply isn't" Bruce replied sharply, a little annoyed she'd ask such a thing, but was willing to disregard the question as part of her job.

"Then how do you explain the fact your parents died here, Mr. Wayne? Is that really a coincidence?"

His face fell, his brow becoming dark and stoic, yet angry. And for a moment, he was no longer the Bruce Wayne the city knew. "No comment."

He stepped forward, leaving the question behind like a pile of dog shit. Nothing more than another accusation. Only, unlike rumors of somewhat fulfilled romances and immoral theatrics, this one held more truth than his pride would own up to. And he knew Viki was perfectly aware of that.

He removed himself from the crowd, the police enforcing a boundary the media were not permitted to cross.

"Causing quite the stir, I see, Mr. Wayne," Lucius said as the tall man was alleviated from the crowd.

"It comes with the territory," Bruce replied tiredly. "Where are we at?"

"They're just conducting one final vacancy search, then, well, nothing but history, sir."

Bruce looked up at the structure, the old sign hanging overhead like a cloud that would soon drift away. His sight fell to his left where he noticed Adeline giving an interview with Viki, each word well thought out and calculated.

"It's simple really, our company has a responsibility to look out for Gotham's best interest and investing in our youth is the most effective way of doing that."

"But Ms. Kane, there is the matter of the rumor I addressed earlier that your cousin, Bruce Wayne, declined to answer. What are your thoughts?"

She smiled, almost amused. "I think if you're gonna imply that my cousin has a vested interest, then you may want to make note of the fact that he and his family have given more to this city than any other family in Gotham. Furthermore, if you're going to ask me questions based on nothing more than some hearsay then you may want to consider writing for TMZ and leave the real reporting to those who are concerned about the rising gang violence and plummeting test scores."

"She may be a bitch, but at least she's a smart one," Bruce whispered to Lucius.

"In that case, my wife would call her something else entirely," he replied, "just remember that intelligence doesn't reflect morality."

"You don't think I know that?" the billionaire smiled.

The man smirked, keen on the secret that many weren't. They watched as Adeline withdrew from the crowd and approached them, not even hesitating to light her cigarette.

"Well their awfully rabid today," she said taking her first drag.

"Well this is one of Gotham's oldest structures, it should be expected," Lucius replied.

"They don't give a shit about that," she said exhaling. "They don't even give a shit about this building. They're just here because they smell the blood in the water."

"I assume you're talking about my connection to this place," Bruce inferred.

She rolled her eyes. "What tipped you off?" She ashed her cigarette and placed it back to her lips. "The fact this city won't just let your parents die?"

"Ms. Kane," Lucius frowned.

"Oh spare me," she defended coldly. "Bruce is a big boy. Plus isn't that why we're here, so Bruce can let go?"

He looked away, partly offended and partly not. "Letting go might not be the right terminology, but I agree, this place is just one more bad memory this city refuses to part with."

"See, Lucius, he's tougher than he looks," Adeline patronized.

"And lucky for you, pragmatic," Lucius countered with annoyance.

"One could say he gets that from his mother. The Kanes have always understood business." She smiled at her cousin, her red lips softly wicked against her forest green eyes.

But before anything else could be said, an officer emerged from the building in horror. This immediately caught Bruce's attention, the man's shock white on his face.

"What's wrong," he demanded approaching them, his voice dark, but still concerned.

The officer stared at him a moment not even sure what to say.

"Answer him," Adeline snapped, as she was now aware.

The man stared at the three, eyes wide and mouth agape as he said, "I think this just became a crime scene..."

8888

She closed the phone and handed it back to the Outlaw beside her, a subtle, but confident smirk on her face.

"Cas agreed to meet with you," Rose said.

"Did he say when?"

She nodded. "Tonight in Princeton, a place called Sawyer's, it's a diner."

"Okay good," Jason replied. "I'll get X and Jinx on board."

"You're not gonna tell Dick?" Rose asked lifting her brow.

"I am, but I'm not gonna risk taking him with us. He doesn't exactly have a good history with the Horsemen."

"The whole Nightwing thing?"

Jason looked away from her, regret biting at him. "Pretty much, he's also not super happy about Jump either."

She grimaced, but she understood. "So he agreed to train me?"

"He did," Jason nodded. "And I know you're a little apprehensive about it, but it really is for the best."

She raised a brow and shrugged. "I guess? He's not gonna like make me do some weird shit where he makes me clean stuff, right? Or like, hit a bowl of water for hours?"

He looked at her quizzically. "What?"

"Y'know," Rose replied, "he's not gonna pull some Mr. Miyagi bullshit?"

"No," Jason sighed with a chuckle, "But you'll probably get your ass kicked more than a few times."

"I'd like to see that happen," she said with a smug grin.

"Well it probably will, and I look forward to watching it happen."

"That's a weird kink," Rose replied impishly, "I don't know how I feel about that?" she teased as Jason smiled at her cynically.

"It's not really a kink as much as it's just a fantasy I have of watching you get your smug ass handed to you."

She gave him a kittenish grin. "Listen, I'm just saying, if beating me up is a turn on for you, we can explore that option."

Jason frowned, disturbed as he blurted, "What the fuck did your father do to you?"

"I'm just fucking with you, relax!" she exclaimed in a humorous reply. "I swear you make it too easy."

He shook his head, she had a thing for pushing his buttons and it drove him nuts, especially when she'd purposely cross his personal line of decency. Which was not an easy thing to do, mind you.

He motioned toward the front door, passing a homeless person covered in an old blanket, unmoved and passed out. Rose looked down at the individual, her nose scrunching at the foul scent.

"Should we uh, wake up Sleeping Beauty here?"

Jason looked down before opening the door and shrugged. "Nah, let 'em sleep, they're not bothering anyone."

She nodded and passed the still form, holding her breath. "Y'know, if you really wanna be charitable, you should offer that poor son of a bitch a shower."

"You'd smell like rancid meat too if you had to eat out of dumpsters, Rose."

He opened the door and ushered her inside, leaving the vagrant to their stench, Rose rambling off something about, "But if you really wanted too, I'd totally let you choke me," she said, Jason rolling his eyes, not even sure if she were kidding or not, and to his dismay, everyone heard it.

"Wow, I could have gone my entire life without hearing that," X groaned painfully.

The Irish girl shook her head. "Agreed, that one really has some serious Daddy issues."

"Yeah, Jason says I have poor personal boundaries," Rose replied unfazed.

"Cause you do," the Outlaw confirmed uncomfortably.

"Aye, I grew up with a girl like that," Clancy nodded.

"And what happened to her," Rose asked approaching the bar.

"Last I heard she was either stripping or she died… actually I think it was both."

"Moral of the story: Don't be slutty," X said, Jason slapping the back of his head. "Hey, I never said Rose was a slut, I just told her not to be slutty, there's a difference."

"You're still an asshole," Jason snorted and turned his attention to Clancy once more, "But speaking of slutty, any word from Trilbey?"

"I'm afraid not, I take it she's gone for good this time."

"A goodbye would have been nice," X muttered, vaguely wounded.

"Oh you sound a little heartbroken," Jinx teased as she exited the kitchen. "Sad you never got a goodbye fuck?"

"Yeah, I'm not one to kiss and tell cause I have class, but I'm pretty sure that girl got a piece of every guy in here," the thief corrected, pointing to Jason, the Outlaw nearly spitting out his coffee.

"Yeah, not only is that not true, but I wouldn't even fuck that girl with your dick and him pushing," Jason corrected wittily, pointing to Eddie.

"Only cause Rosie here would have killed that bitch," X added, knowing if the Outlaw hadn't been spoken for, especially by someone as formidable as Rose Wilson, that he'd probably have allowed his better judgment to be swayed. Lord knew it had in the past. "Remember the whole Kitten thing?"

"Don't even get her started on that," Jason droned, once again trying to avoid that past indiscretion, Rose giving him a smug look, but decided to let it slide, for now.

"Hey, what can I say, you mess with the bull you get the horns," she sang gesturing with coffee in hand.

"Or in your case, a fist to the face, or better yet, a sledgehammer to the Beemer," X corrected, recalling one particular incident. "I can't wait to see the look on that girl's face when we show up to talk to her dad."

"It's gonna be interesting," Rose smiled mischievously in regards to her old "frienemy".

"Yeah I think bringing Rose might be seen as an act of aggression. But on that note," Jason said trying to move on, "Rose just talked to Casper, we're gonna meet with him tonight in Princeton. I need you both there and don't tell Dick, he's not invited."

X grimaced, but nodded. "Does this have anything to do with what happened in Jump?"

Jason nodded. "Everything to do with it. I'm just gonna give him the rundown after we talk to Casper, I'm sure he'll understand. I just don't need him strong arming his way into this right now. Got it?"

The two nodded in unison, no longer questioning their leader.

"Speaking of our local hero," Jinx droned, "he's at your 12 O'clock."

Jason glanced over and saw Dick entering the room, Raven not at his side as he took a seat beside Jason, studying him quizzically.

"So what's the plan for today?"

The Outlaw glanced at X, who remained indifferent and replied, "Don't really have one. But I was thinking, maybe we take a ride downtown and pay Penguin a visit?"

"Yeah we gotta take care of that bullshit," X drawled and bit into his toast. "Killer Moth isn't our only potential loose end."

"Is there a plan formulating in there or is this just off the cuff?" Dick asked taking hold of a fresh cup of coffee.

"I thought we could make it up as we go," the Outlaw shrugged.

"That sounds like a horrible idea," Raven added finally entering the bar.

Jason chuckled. "Well I'm not really known for my good ideas, but Dick sure is."

Dick looked back at her awkwardly, not sure whether to address her or not. He noticed her breath hitch as she fell in his sight, but she held her composure.

"So what, you want me to be the brains of the operation?" Dick finally said replying to Jason.

"That or we could just go in guns blazing?"

Dick rolled his eyes with a slight grin. "Yeah, I think I'll pull a good idea outta my ass."

"And to think I was beginning to miss the Boy Blunder," Raven said flatly.

He turned to her and smiled defensively. "So you miss me now?"

"I never said I didn't?"

"Okay," Jinx grimaced, "I see you two are having a little lover's quarrel, or whatever, but if you two could, y'know, not, that'd be great."

"Oh don't mind her," Clancy asserted and handed Raven her tea. "She's just upset cause she and Wally had a fight."

"You did?" Raven replied, looking at the other sorceress.

Her face fell and she glared at the Irish girl. "Yeah, but that wasn't anything I wanted to talk about this morning. Thanks Clance."

Jason cleared his throat, and tried to detract the attention from Jinx. "So Dick and I will go see what Cobblepot's been up to. From there we can see if looking into Killer Moth's even necessary?"

"Is the Iceberg Lounge even open?" Dick asked. "It's kinda early, shouldn't we wait till tonight and look into Killer Moth now?"

"It's open, old people like getting an early start on their gambling," Jason replied removed.

"But is Cobblepot even gonna be there?"

"Yeah, he's auditioning Lounge singers, Raven will be perfect for that," Jason shrugged.

"But I don't sing," the empath added with a leering expression. "I'm actually terrible."

"All those girls are," Rose sneered with her nose up. "It just comes down to who's willing to smoke Penguin's South Pole."

"No. No way in hell," Dick began. "Absolutely not."

"Payback's a bitch, huh, Chuckles?" X smirked giggling.

"So what's the plan, Dickhead?" Jason sang vindictively. "I wanna hear all about how we're gonna dangle your girl in front of some slob for intel?"

Dick glared at him and rolled his eyes. "Um if you mean: Figure out a way to pass her off as a singer? She's not wrong, she's terrible-awful actually. I'm not a miracle worker."

"I really am," Raven confirmed, "and I'm not his girl… and he's really not a miracle worker."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Rae," Dick replied through an exaggerated smile.

The empath lightly replying with, "You're welcome.

"Well we can start with: wear a short dress and look like you're willing to take one for the team," Rose said matter of factly. "None of those girls can sing, they're just really hot and have no problem chipping their teeth on Penguin's belt buckle. Especially that blond bitch Bailey."

"Yeah, she is not talented," Jinx recalled painfully. "If I ever have to hear her butcher "Free Falling," ever again, I'll cut my fucking ears off."

"Yeah but she at least fakes it well," X shrugged. "I'm not convinced Sunshine fakes anything."

"If I had to fuck Cobblepot I'd fake it too," Rose visibly cringed.

"That's not quite what I meant," X corrected painfully. "I mean Sunshine's a good actress, but I don't think she's that good... No offense."

"No that's perfectly fair," Raven replied, not really feeling this plan of action.

"Plus if Cobblepot even looks at her, Chuckles is gonna blow a fucking gasket," X added.

"Maybe you should just take someone else," Raven suggested getting cold feet. "Rose can sing, can't she?"

"Yes, and I'm a lot fucking better than Bailey, but I'll totally be pegged as Slade's kid and Red Hood's girlfriend, which is why I'm not all in."

"What about Jinx? You have your shit together?" Dick suggested.

"Well aside from the fact that Wally would kill you," she droned, "I used to work at the Iceberg Lounge."

"So I guess the better question is: Who do we have that's a good actress and won't be recognized?"

A pressed look took over Jason's face; he knew exactly who they needed, but he'd rather not have asked. For more reasons than one. "I think I know someone, but it's kinda risky."

"Oh shit, you don't mean-"

"I do," Jason confirmed, cutting Jinx off. "But she's probably the only person crazy enough for this to work."

8888

Bruce waited before the great sign overhead, its looming presence leaving him with a dark and familiar feeling. Much like a grey cloud that never seemed clear.

"What the hell is taking them so long," Adeline grunted, smoking through her third cigarette in only 15 minutes.

Lucius glanced at the Billionaire, knowing full well his expertise was necessary. But somehow, he'd need to distract Adeline.

"Ms. Kane, why don't you let me take you a few doors down for coffee?"

She looked over at the man as though he'd made a vulgar advance. "You're not serious?"

Lucius smiled harmlessly, a little confused. "You just seem a little tightly wound, is all. I think taking a short walk might help?"

"It's not a bad idea," Bruce added. "I can stay here and keep tabs on the situation, if anything happens, I'll call you. It beats waiting for answers."

"Okay, but you're buying, Fox," Adeline finally sighed, throwing her butt down.

He smiled with a light laugh. "Deal. Would you like anything, Mr. Wayne?"

"Coffee—black."

The man nodded and turned, allowing the uptight brunette to go first. Bruce watched them as they went, waiting until they disappeared into the crowd. He then removed his phone from his pocket, looking down at it as though he were aloofly going through his email. His brow sank with a faux frustration as he held the device upward, pretending to find an imaginary signal. He continued the charade, taking a few steps forward as if beckoned by some mystical force dictating his life.

He somehow managed to make his way into the alley without anyone noticing and paused, opening his contacts; selecting Alfred.

My phone's dying, can you bring my charger?

He sent out the message and waited a moment until he felt a soft hum from the phone. A link appeared, one that would expire in a matter of seconds if not opened promptly. (Something created special for him by Victor Stone.) He opened it, the phone instantly accessing the Cave mainframe and every major database on the planet.

He looked up a moment, taking note of his surroundings. A sigh left his lips as his eyes grazed over the pavement. Its cracked face still stained in blood, though washed away decades before. His jaw tightened as he bit down on his tongue, swallowing the uneven thump of his heart and stepped toward the side entrance. He gave the area one more scan, making certain that no one had noticed his current location and stepped inside the old Opera house.

It was dark, light barely able to shine from the musty windows, the sun masked in dust and decay. Normally, this would not have been an issue, but seeing that our wise hero was not really dressed for the occasion, he'd have to make due with the flashlight on his phone. He opened the app, this one, however, being modified to include a night vision setting and an amplified lighting element he could adjust.

He soon found the stairs, faint voices carrying through the towering corridor, speaking of the evils committed.

"Jesus Christ!" he heard one voice cry. "What the hell happened here?"

There was a pause, and a few footsteps followed. "God only knows-fuck that's a lot of blood."

"The Hahaha, written all over the wall is a sick touch—What the fuck kinda psycho did this?!"

His brow furrowed, an image swelling in his brain of a mad clown cynically laughing through a cracked smile as Bruce's fist clenched.

"What are you doing in here, Wayne?"

Bruce froze and the image shattered, the sinful clown dissolving into nothing more than a garish nightmare.

"Commissioner," the billionaire said and closed out the app on his phone, tucking it away. "I see they called you in."

He turned to find the man no more than 5 feet away, his weathered hands resting in the deep pockets of his coat.

"Well considering every major news outlet is waiting outside like hungry cats, I figured I should show some face. But the better question is, what are you doing in here?"

Bruce smiled and paused. "Would you believe me if I said I was trying to get a WIFI signal?"

"Only if I actually believed you were that stupid," the Commissioner replied, "but you're not, so..."

Bruce raised his brow, he knew he'd been caught. "Okay, I'm curious, I guess? I mean this is my building and no one's telling me anything. I'm concerned, Commissioner."

Gordon nodded, seeing the genuine look of empathy on the man's face. He may have put on a good show for the world, but Jim knew that was all it was—a show.

"If it makes you feel better, there's no body."

"So it's just a potential crime scene?" Bruce asked.

He nodded. "Yes, but you do not repeat that. When I know more, I'll tell you."

"Thank you, Commissioner."

Jim motioned for the playboy follow him out, Bruce doing so with every intention of returning as Batman. The two exited the building and stepped into the alley, the Commissioner turning with a look of concern on his face.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Dick is in town?"

Bruce nodded ruefully, recalling the unfortunate circumstances of the discovery.

The older man took a breath, trying to hide his indignation. "I can't have him around my daughter."

The Dark Knight's brow furrowed in question. "Does this have anything to do with what happened when they were kids?"

The man nodded in conformation. "Now I know you've remained close with Barbara, and I cannot thank you enough for all you and Alfred have done for her. She thinks very highly of you both, but I can't allow her to be swallowed up by the past."

"I understand, Jim, I really do," Bruce replied, "but you need to understand that they're not kids anymore and, even if he'd listen to me, I can't tell him what to do anymore."

"You never told him about Zucco, did you?"

Bruce shook his head regrettably. "And now he's not exactly speaking to me, but if it's any consolation, I don't think he's speaking to Barbara either."

Bruce paused, he didn't know all the details of what happened between Dick and Barbara after he left town, but he knew his exit hit her hard. So much in fact, she'd taken a leave from her duties as Batgirl and only returned to them months after. And even then, she was still distracted for the better part of a year. Bruce had his suspicions about the ordeal, but kept them to himself, but deep down, he knew whatever it was, it had left its mark.

"Listen, Jim, I don't know what happened between he and Barbara, and it's not my business to, but what Dick did to her, whatever it is you've held him responsible for, its ancient history now and you shouldn't hold it against him."

Jim smiled cynically and shook his head. "You're right, Wayne. But that is so much easier said than done."

"I understand that," Bruce nodded, "believe me, I do, but I'm learning quite late in life that maybe the past isn't everything."

"Only sometimes it is, Bruce."

"It's just a thought, Jim."

"So it is."

8888

She stood stage right, the balls of her feet beginning to ache, her toes pinching from the narrow stilettos binding her feet. Her breath was short from the waist cincher keeping her bound from beneath her sheer red blouse. She glanced up toward the stage lights, their glare burning down on a pretty young girl, with natural blonde highlights in a white sundress. Duela silently remarked that the girl wasn't bad, but her voice was oddly, like so many her age, disembodied and not quite her own. The girl's confidence something still very much in its development as she sang the key of another more polished and manufactured blonde. And lucky for Duela, she was far too young for Cobblepot's liking. He liked his girls a little more experienced. Still, he allowed her to continue, maybe just for the fact she reminded him of his mother.

As she stood watching, she recalled the knock at her door, stirring her from the meager few hours of sleep she'd slipped into, but only after the countless ones she'd spent thinking of her choices. She'd laid in bed haunted by that sinister voice, his slithering tone beating into her ears as his fist wrapped against her door. She woke violently, realizing she was in her own bed and the knock wrapped again.

"Hey Duela, you there?" she heard Jason call.

It took her a moment to catch her breath, his words leaving her a little nervous. "Um yeah?" she sighed tiredly, too tired to hide her shaky tone "give me a sec," she called pulling an old shirt from the floor and slipping it over her bare breasts and torso as she stood, the garment falling just over her panties, not nearly covering her thighs. Not that she cared.

She recalled her stomach knot as she answered the door, her leader waiting patiently. "What's up?" she asked.

"You have a minute?"

She noticed the look on his face was calm and it eased her, but only slightly as she nodded and stepped aside. He entered her room and took note of the mess, Duela was never really known for her orderliness.

"I take it I woke you?" Jason asked, Duela was also not known for her early rising.

"Yeah, but I should probably get up anyway," she replied quietly and lit a cigarette. "You want one?" she offered holding out her pack.

"The last time I said yes I never stopped," he noted recalling she was the one who'd introduced him to the habit, but accepted, the girl holding out her lighter as he inhaled. "I thought you quit?"

"I did, but I picked back up where I left off. Shit's been rough, y'know?" she added scratching her head with her thumb.

"I do… anything you wanna talk about?"

She shrugged and smiled. "That's really sweet, but we both know you didn't come up here to listen to me whine. What'y need?"

The Outlaw grimaced, her words slightly cold. Jason recalling a time when the two rarely didn't confided in one another. But that changed when Rose and Enigma both showed up.

"How do you feel about getting dolled up and taking a trip to the Iceberg Lounge?"

"Define dolled up?"

It was then Jason revealed the plan, to have her masquerade as a hopeful young lounge singer for hire. And Duela knew immediately what that not only meant, but entailed.

"Give me an hour."

And as promised, approximately one hour later, she emerged, a completely different woman. She put on a blonde wig, styled much like Marilyn Monroe's. Her make-up was clean and impeccable, simple red lipstick and moderate liner shaping her eyes. A light dusting of blush warmed her cheeks and usually icy complexion. Her thin blouse fit her form like a glove, the red corset visible beneath the sheer fabric. A black knee length pencil skirt, gave her a smart well-dressed appearance as it rose to her waist and hugged her every curve.

"How's this, JT?" she asked entering the bar.

She smirked as Dick took a double take and Raven rolled her eyes with what looked like well-hidden jealousy. But it was X spitting out his beer that she got the biggest kick out of.

"Shit you clean up good," Rose sang, hardly recognizing her.

"Thanks," Duela smiled, though this was nothing new to her. This was sort of her thing after all.

"So you know the plan?" Dick asked, approaching her.

"Yep," she nodded, "I'm pretending to audition while you watch from the bar, we act like we don't know each other and JT waits in the car while you keep him updated." Which brought her to this current moment.

"That was lovely, um… Jenna?" she heard Cobblepot's right hand man said insincerely. "We'll let you know."

Duela watched as the young woman neurotically nodded and scurried off stage past her, Duela told the girl good job, though she only half meant it. A moment passed and Butch glanced down at the paper and read her false name:

"Cambria Coheed?"

She let out and deep breath, she'd need to have her shit together to pull off what she was about to do.

"Well a wise clown once said: In Hell, everybody loves popcorn," she sighed to herself and stepped out on the stage.

"And what will you be singing for us, Cambria?" Butch asked not even looking up. The chubby man next to him not really paying attention. Apparently her theory was right, Cobblepot had grown bored of pretty blondes.

"Oh I'm not here to sing," she replied reaching the mic.

The two men glanced up, neither of them expecting her reply.

"Um... you are aware this is an audition, right?" Butch asked, brow twisted to a frown. Dick glaring at her from a distance, he was also out of the loop. But to be fair, everyone was.

"Dick, what's going on?" Jason asked over the bug in his ear, overhearing the audio playing through his own device. Dick only texting the Outlaw in reply:

Apparently our girl is going off book.

"Oh I'm here for the audition," Duela replied to Butch.

"Then you'll have to sing?"

"Oh no I'm not a singer, I'm a comic," she smiled.

"I think there's some mistake Ms." Butch continued. "We're auditioning lounge singers, not comics."

"Okay then, when are auditions for comics?"

"We don't audition comics," Butch protested.

"And why not?" Duela challenged.

"Why's she arguing with him?" Dick questioned as though he were speaking to the old man next to him.

"Because Duela is fucking Duela. I knew this was gonna happen," Jason lamented in frustration. "Fuck!"

"Because we don't," Butch frowned, getting annoyed.

"Then maybe you should start?" Duela asserted. "I can't think of a better time. I mean no offence to Jenna, but aren't you tired of the same ol'song and dance? Don't you think you've seen enough half talented pretty girls with no substance?"

Butch leered at her, not really sure what to say, but attempted to respond. "Um, I'm sorry, but we're not looking—"

"Do you work blue?" Cobblepot interrupted, a spark finally glimmering in his eye as he glanced up at her.

She smiled flirtatiously and replied, "Oh darling, I work nothing but blue."

"Let her do her routine," he nodded, intrigued.

"Oh thank you, kind sir. Very much appreciated."

"You got five minutes," Cobblepot said evenly, placing his hand upon the head of his cane.

"Don't worry, I'll only need three to make you laugh," Duela hummed, "but I'll take five to finish."

Should I stop her? Dick asked over a text, as Cobblepot let out a fond chuckle.

"No. No, just roll with it. If you intervene now, they'll know something's up."

"Well anyway, now that I've slain Shrek here, I can start by asking if you boys think I look nice?" She asked the thin audience, doing a twirl.

She paused as the old man seated beside Dick called out that she looked so good he'd eat her kitten! which caused everyone to burst into hysterics.

"Well thank you, sir, I appreciate your honesty. There is certainly nothing more romantic then telling a girl you're gonna eat her cat," she added and went on, earning herself another chuckle from Cobblepot. "But anyway, I only asked this question because I obviously spent a lot of time in the mirror this morning, not because I'm vain, and not because I'm a girl, but because I'm insecure, because well, I'm a girl… today." She paused, allowing the few people in the bar to laugh, a few of them studying her further, unsure if she were joking or not. "I'm kidding, I'm all girl down there, trust me. I paid a Mexican surgeon a lot of money."

More giggles ensued and she continued.

"But seriously, it's a little hard to tell these days. I should know, I once went home with a he, who was, well, he'd not always been a he... and I was not privy to that information, and only found out upon exploring his southern region, if you will?" she said earnestly. "Long story short, I pulled an Amy Schumer and fucked him anyway. What can say, I'm not all that picky? I chalk it up to not having a dad."

I think this is actually working? Dick typed. Cobblepot seems to be loving it.

Jason shook his head. "I fucking hope so."

"It's insane really what makeup and a lot of plastic surgery can do for a person. One minute your black Michael Jackson, the next you're a really ugly white woman with an eating disorder, taking too much Prozac, collecting children in place of cats and ruining lives. Just a shell of the person you used to be. I mean look at Marilyn Monroe: Hailed as the sexiest woman to ever live: the original Bombshell, when in reality, she was just a girl named Norma. No guy wants to fuck a girl named Norma, let alone Norma Jean. Not unless you wanna pay child support for 18 years only to find out that kid's not actually yours… Moral of the story: Don't fuck girls named Norma, or Rose."

She paused as the men seemed to laugh, the women not so much.

"But it's time to face a cold hard truth guys, you're being duped, Marilyn Monroe was simply a 5 Hollywood made to look like a 9… I use 9 because it's phonetically sound," she paused for a genuine giggle she got and ranted onward. "Now I know this because I'm a 6 who tries to make herself look like a 10, who only comes out of it an 8, maybe an 8 and a half after your last beer... I'm fine with this, because I can still fuck 9s and 10s. However, that doesn't stop me from getting drunk and fucking 3s and the occasional 2. In my defense they look like 7s after an entire box of pink wine. BEWARE the cheap wine ladies, for you think you're going to bed with CW's Marry Stew version of Jimmy Olson, but in reality, you're just waking up next to Jimmy Olson," she added a stern tone voice. "I also drink too much because I don't have a dad, which means I don't have strong standards."

By this point everyone was roaring, even Dick to Jason's disdain.

"Funny enough, nearly all of my friends are 9s and 10's. I think that's partly why I'm able to fuck 9s and 10s; I've surrounded myself with unreasonably attractive people. It's almost like living in a TV show where all the actors are better looking than they are talented. Yeah, just cause someone's a 10 doesn't mean your gonna cum. In fact you'll be lucky if you get a full ride. Meanwhile, all you have to look forward to is that unsatisfied moment when the hot guy falls on top of you. Or maybe you're on top, left completely high and dry and he practically throws you off board. And you're like: fuck I wish you'd put some of that enthusiasm into your performance. I wish you liked me as much as you like Snapchat.

This is probably the reason I make room for 3s and 4s. They're so happy to just be down there, they treat it like a home. They set up shop and boy to do ugly guys have something to prove like: I may not be a 10 or even a close 6, but I will go where no hot guy has ever gone before (for those of you who don't know what I mean, he's going down on me, just to be clear.) And I will not, repeat, WILL NOT stop until milady has came. (He might be into larping, I don't know?)

But if you don't believe me, ladies, I suggest you give it a try. I see a few 3s in this very bar. Give em' a shot.

But anyhow, all that by comparison, all my friends look AMAZING, meanwhile, I'm just average. But, some people are stupid enough to think because I'm friends with a 10, that must mean I'm one too! That or they feel sorry for me… either way, I'll take the sympathy fuck. And much like one's virginity, this one's non-refundable. I'm Cambria Coheed, thank you and goodnight!

Go home and fuck a 3."

"It's actually 11 am, but whatever," Dick heard Jason say over his earpiece.

But none of that mattered as Cobblepot rose in applause, thoroughly amused with her act. "That was quite refreshing, my dear," he sang still chuckling. "Why don't you take a seat so we can discuss your act further?"

Dick watched her smile widen, leaving him to question whether she knew exactly what she was doing or not.

"See Butch, what'd I say, a little laughter's like chicken soup to the alcoholic soul," she said stepping down from the stage and approached the short chubby man.

"Seems to be so, Ms. Coheed," he greeted, taking her hand in both of his. "Oswald Cobblepot, owner of the Iceberg Lounge, pleased to make your acquaintance, my lovely girl," he added kissing her hand. "May I call you Cambria?"

Dick remained seated, observing from afar. The bartender came over, a pretty Russian woman, and asked him if he'd like a refill on his beer.

"Whatever light beer you have on tap?"

"Bud Lite okay?" she asked through her exotic accent. He nodded, and noticed something in the mirror behind her.

Oh shit?

It was none other than Santo, entering the lounge area, most likely to meet with Cobblepot. The Sicilian man approached the bar, ordering a round of it's finest brandy, his tone, however, dismissive towards the Russian bartender. Dick remained seated, texting Jason about the last minute entrance.

"Do you know Russian?" Jason asked over his ear wig. "Wanna make a bet Santo doesn't?"

A smirk fell over Dick's face as she set his drink down before him. "Ty govorish' po-russki?"

"Konechno, ya delayu," she replied, answering that she indeed spoke the language of the Kremlin, an impressed look on her face. "Kazhetsya, ty tozhe?"

Dick replied yes in her native tongue, spinning her a brief tail of studying Russian literature abroad. Adding that he missed the city lights of Moscow. Her eyes lit up as she introduced herself as Nadia and told him of how she grew up just outside of that very city. She went on for a few minutes speaking fondly of her homeland, a nostalgic look glimmering in her eyes as she poured the brandy.

Dick smiled as she told her tale, the young woman only pausing as Santo called for her attention.

"Excuse me, but we're WAITING," he said rather rudely glaring at Dick from the table where he and his men were seated.

The young barmaid simply frowned and announced she was just finishing up their order. She lifted the tray and set out to deliver their brandies, Dick glancing over his shoulder a moment to find Santo staring in his direction.

"You got a problem, kid?"

"No," Dick replied not expecting the mob leader to be staring him down.

"Then I suggest you keep your eyes forward. You never know who you might be looking at."

"Noted," Dick replied sarcastically, unsure of what he'd actually done to receive such a harsh threat.

"Never mind them," Nadia said in Russian as she leaned against the bar before him. "He just doesn't like not being doted over."

Dick replied in the language of her homeland, "Doesn't like the competition?"

She shook her head. "But pay them no mind. They simply come in here, pretending they own the place and expect everything to be free. They also don't tip very well," she added placing a glass of brandy down before him and smiled, "This one's on that asshole."

"You are absolutely a delight," Cobblepot sang as he spoke with Duela, or Cambria as she called herself.

"Oh you're just being nice." She glanced up noticing Santo bark at Dick for some minor violation. "Well he seems awfully mouthy."

Cobblepot turned and noticed Santo had arrived. "Oh don't mind him, he simply suffers from what we around here call, little man syndrome."

She smiled and moved to Cobblepot's lap, acting as if the slight was an invitation. She watched as a look of excitement and surprise lit up in his eyes.

"Well as long as you don't suffer from little man syndrome, then we won't have a problem." She felt his hand slip down her back and tuck itself under her ass.

"Why don't you let me take you out to dinner?"

"I'm free Friday," she replied.

"I have a rather dull dinner to attend at La Morra that night. It might be less dismal if you come along?"

"I dig Italian food," Duela replied. "What time?"

"How's 8?"

"Sounds like a date," she smiled and stood. "But until then, I do have a life I must get back to."

"How am I supposed to get a hold of you?"

"My number's on the form you had us fill out," she said glancing back, "ask Shrek to write it down for you. Oh and one more thing," she said walking back to him. "Is um, Napoleon gonna be at there Friday?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I simply just wanna make sure I wear kitten heels, wouldn't want the poor bastard to feel invalid."

The chubby man laughed, smiling wide, Duela putting on her act, yet again. Pretending to be attracted to Oswald Cobblepot.

"Well I have to go, Doll. But call me tomorrow and we'll make a plan, as for my gig: My fee is $300 for a 45 minute set."

"Then what's an hour pay?"

"I'll let you know," she smiled flirtatiously and kissed his cheek.

She then withdrew from him and moved to the stairs and into the bar, glancing at Dick, letting him know she was leaving. He glanced back, but waited a moment, simply pretending to check her out. He then continued his casual conversation with the bartender, buying enough time to allow Duela to leave without it being obvious that he was with her. He then closed out his bill and gave the bartender a generous tip, knowing he'd probably be back at some point. And if there was one thing Dick Grayson was known for doing—well—it was honeypotting.

Nadia smiled as she received the money and asked his name, Dick simply replying, John. He then smiled and left.

As this was taking place, Duela had arrived back at the car, Jason sitting in the driver's seat glaring out at her. She opened the door of the Jeep Cherokee and sat in the passenger's seat.

"Cambria Coheed?" he questioned dryly.

"You don't like it?"

He didn't reply as he simply stared at her with something of contempt, as if he understood the joke, but still didn't find it funny.

"You got a cigarette?" she asked in a dull tone.

The Outlaw didn't reply as he produced his pack of Marlboro Reds and removed one for himself then offered her the pack. She selected her own and leaned in as he silently offered to light it. She took a generous drag, her whole demeanor changed.

"You seem pissed?" she noted and took another drag.

He glanced back at her as she held her cigarette near her temple. She was different with him, always had been, like whoever she truly was or once had potential to be, was reserved for his eyes alone. But that didn't mean she still wasn't bat-shit crazy.

"Well a heads up would have been nice?"

"If I gave you a heads up you'd have pulled the plug," she defended. "You're just not as much fun as you used to be."

Or maybe he simply just remembered who she used to be.

"We're not kids anymore, Duela," he snapped slightly. "If we get caught, the stakes are a lot higher now."

"Oh and they weren't high when I was helping you kill a man?" she replied, presenting a challenge.

"That was different."

"Was it though?"

Suddenly they saw Dick approaching the car.

"You ever tell him about me?" she asked, observing the hero. "I mean we've known each other a long time, even longer than you've known him..."

He didn't reply, he just glanced back at her, leaving Duela to imagine that maybe he was thinking of the first time they'd met. Life always had a way of leading them back to one another. She found that rather funny. Destined to never be.

"I'll take that as a no," she replied as Dick got in the back seat.

The two remained silent, the Outlaw looking ahead, fervently biting the skin of his thumb. Duela simply looking at him from the corner of her eye, then glanced up at Dick through the rearview.

"Well that wasn't exactly the plan, but it worked," the hero said as he closed the door. "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a professional."

She smiled a little flattered. "See Jay, Chuckles thinks I'm funny."

He grimaced at her, knowing her tricks inside and out, too privy to fall for it. "I never said you weren't," he clarified, however, "I think you're very funny, but you could lay off the bad judgment bit, it's kinda over done."

"So lay off you, got it," she teased, though it felt more like an insult to Jason.

Dick slightly caught wind of the jab, mainly because to him it didn't really make sense, and secondly because the Outlaw seemed sort of offended.

"So I take it you're a fan of The Amory Wars?" Dick finally asked, changing the subject.

A wide smirk filled her face as she looked back at him. "It's sorta a childhood love of mine," she sang fondly. "You a big comic fan?"

"Not as much as Jason," Dick remarked. "You used to love that series."

"It's always something we had in common," she replied, giving Jason a telling smirk.

"Yeah but I grew out of it." The Outlaw glanced back at her from the corner of his eye, as if nervous to what exactly might come out of her mouth next.

Dick could feel the tension, something deeper just beneath the surface of their normally innocuous statements.

"Like I said, you're not as much fun as you used to be," Duela replied void of humor.

"And you're just as bat-shit as ever."

8888

Raven spent most of her morning helping Clancy do inventory and unboxing the new product shipment. The work was slightly mindless, but she found it comforting. Meanwhile, Rose was still struggling to come to terms with her new career choice, or lack thereof.

"Dude, this jobs sucks," she whined once again losing the battle.

"Or maybe you just suck at it, love?" Clancy corrected with a smile.

Raven smiled and placed down her work. "I think what Clancy means is, maybe you're not cut out to tend bar."

"No shit," Rose said with an eye roll and threw down her apron. "But what am I gonna do for a job? I don't have a real education, I never even finished high school, I don't even have a GED. I mean, at this rate, I'm gonna have to start sucking dick to pay my bills."

"Mom would be so proud," Jinx drawled not even looking up from her phone, the white haired girl giving her a cold grimace.

"It's not gonna come to that," Raven assured, feeling Rose's frustration. "Jason would never let that happen."

"Yeah, but I don't want to rely on my Ol'man to take care of me."

Raven's face fell realizing the problem. "You know it's not too late? You can still get your GED, hell you can still go to college or learn a trade."

"Yeah," Rose agreed glibly, "but that shit costs time and money, and I don't have a lot of either."

"Shocker," Jinx said, though her timing was not meant as an insult. "That Crazy Bitch changed the whole damn plan."

"You mean Duela," X replied.

"Who else," she sighed painfully. "I knew sending her was a fucking mistake."

"Wait, it didn't work?" Raven said with alarm.

"No it worked," Jinx smiled cynically. "But she didn't tell anyone, she just flipped the whole fucking table and let it be a surprise."

X Rose from his bar stool as his phone rang, getting ready to step outside. "JT pissed?" he asked, knowing Jason's hesitancy to use Duela in the first place.

"He's livid, though I don't know why he's so shocked. That boy is consistent when it comes to his women, if nothing else."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rose asked, her brow creased.

"It means he likes his women older, wise and motherly, or young, crazy and in need of saving," Jinx condescended. "Just guess which one you are."

"Well you're in a mood," Raven said defending Rose.

"No, I'm just dishing out the truth," Jinx snapped. "But if I'm being honest, Rose is actually an improvement. At least she has some restraint. Duela's just a ticking time bomb you can't defuse."

"I take it there is more to this whole Duela thing than I'm aware of?" the empath asked cautiously.

Jinx smiled and rolled her eyes with a nostalgic cynicism. "Let's just leave it at, that girl's a fucking rabbit hole."

Just as this cold reality set in, the door opened and an older clean cut gentleman stepped in, dressed in a high quality suit. Raven looked up as he smiled warmly at her.

"Alfred?" she asked, standing up.

"Why yes Ms. Roth," he replied and removed his cap. "I was in the area and was hoping to speak with Master Richard. Is he in?"

"He's actually not here right now," she replied. "He uh, went with Jason to do an errand, but they should be back soon."

"Oh," Alfred sighed. "Would it be intrusive of me if I waited?"

Raven shook her head. "No, of course not," the empath said, though she knew having Alfred around could pose a risk. "Would you like something to drink while you wait?"

He smiled and nodded. "Well it's a bit early, so I'll just have tea with a spot of milk if it's not too much trouble?"

Raven nodded, "It's not," and looked over at Rose. "Can you handle that?"

Rose smirked smugly and droned, "Luckily for Jeeves here, boiling water is something in my wheelhouse. Plus I need to get away from Jinx before I stab her with a wine opener."

"Well lucky for you I have some paperwork to do so I'll be in the office," the sorceress replied.

She turned and headed on her way, leaving the two to themselves. Alfred smiled and took a seat at the bar, placing his hat on the table.

"So Bruce really makes you wear that thing?" Raven asked taking a seat beside him.

Alfred chuckled lightly. "I don't mind it, plus we do have to keep up appearances. The Gotham elite are very fickle, indeed."

"So I've heard," Raven said recalling a few stories.

Alfred's grin faded and his eyes grew stormy. "How is the young master?"

The empath took a breath, trying to place her thoughts. "He's pissed," she finally muttered. "Though I'm sure you knew that."

Alfred nodded. "It's to be expected. But how is he dealing with it?"

"It's hard to say," Raven replied mournfully. "He's been through a lot these last few months. I mean with Rancid and Zucco and…"

"Ms. Koriand'r."

Raven looked up at him wide eyeg at the mention of her name.

Alfred paused at her expression, but spoke not of it. It was then Rose returned with two mugs. She placed one down before Alfred and the other in front of Raven.

"Here, I thought you'd need this," the girl said and placed down a small decanter of milk.

"Thank you, young lady," Alfred sang. "And what might your name be?"

"Rose," she replied with a half-hearted smile.

"Awe, for one as pretty as you, I can't think of a Rose by any other name," he said shaking her hand.

Rose giggled, taken a little off guard, but still found it charming.

"What the hell, Alfred!" a voice said from out of nowhere, "you trying to steal my girl?"

The three looked over to see Jason and Dick enter the room and a string of laughter followed.

"Oh well," Alfred chuckled with false embarrassment, "I did not realize this young lady was spoken for."

"She's got you fooled, she so not a lady," Jason teased wrapping an arm around Rose.

"Hey, you better watch it," she warned playfully, "I do have a bit of a daddy fetish that you don't exactly fulfill."

"You just had to make it awkward, huh Rosie?" Jason droned with a faded smile.

"You set me up for it, Todd."

Dick let out a slight chuckle then turned his attention to Alfred, seated not far from him.

"So what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

The butler took a generous sip of his tea and replied. "Well, Master Richard, not to open old wounds once again, but after that little debacle the other day, I thought it only appropriate that I check up on you."

Dick's face sobered a moment. Alfred, throughout the years, had always been more than just a servant, as he and Bruce considered the butler a close friend and confidante. But to Dick, Alfred served a far greater purpose as the grandfather he'd never really had. It was Alfred who'd stay up on late nights tending to ills and listened to tall tales, and it was Alfred who'd spend hours helping him with projects and book reports. He made sure they ate and ate well, and knew exactly how to make everyone smile, even when it seemed too difficult to do so. And even after Dick left, it was Alfred who stood tall and kept the line of communication open, like he was doing now.

"I'm fine, I guess," he finally replied.

Alfred nodded and straightened his back, he knew everything was far from fine. "I know none of this is easy for you, but you must understand that Master Bruce never intended to hurt you, or keep anything from you. He simply just wanted you to have the life he never could."

"I know that," Dick said glancing out the window. "But the wound's still a little fresh."

"I believe that's fair," Alfred agreed.

Dick noticed X approaching the door, once he'd finished his call. His face recoiling as the smell radiating from the vagrant still sleeping just outside.

"Shit, JT," X whined as he entered the bar. "You gotta get rid of that guy, he reeks of death."

"Seriously, it's getting worse," Rose added attempting to pour X his beer.

"Okay, I'll tell the guy to move along," Jason said, hardly having the heart to do so.

Alfred smiled. "That boy has a much bigger heart than he lets on."

Dick nodded. "Yeah, but if you tell anyone that he'll probably kill you," he added as Jason ventured out to the sidewalk.

"Hey man, I'm sorry, but it's time to go," Jason said looking down at the figure, their head and shoulders wrapped in a filthy blanket, but didn't respond. "Hey, come on, you can't stay here all day." The Outlaw paused a moment, the subject still unmoved. "Hey man, are you okay?" he asked and took hold of a frail shoulder, giving them a shake. The head fell back, a blank lifeless stare looking up at him through cloudy eyes. But even worse, he knew that face. "Holy shit—FUCK!" Jason cried.

Dick and Raven both looked up, finding his reaction alarming. Dick stood up and ran out as X followed, Alfred looking over his shoulder observing the chaos.

"Jason what—" Dick began, but stopped when he saw her. "Shit—is that—"

"Yeah," Jason nodded, still shocked.

"Shit—Trilby," X mumble joining the two.

"Fuck what do we do?" Dick added.

"The only thing we can do," Jason replied, "We gotta call Gordon."

---

A/N:That being said, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and Duela's little comedy skit. I started writing it like a year ago and this is probably the 5th rewrite. So I hope it came off as funny and witty, cause if it didn't, I quit lol. I also hope it read well. The first draft was not received well.