FridayMorning
After his excruciating workout, Dick was able to get his requisite four hours of sleep for the night. He woke up just after nine a.m., feeling a bit groggy but no worse for wear after his first real night of vigilante activity. Thankfully he didn't have to head down to criminology at ten. That left him free until writing at 3:30. In that time, Dick had one simple daylight Robin mission to accomplish before using whatever time was left to study for his exams.
Dick threw a breakfast burrito into the microwave and booted up his laptop. He reviewed the logs of his security cameras and saw that Garfield had been by his door multiple times last night. It was odd, having friends that didn't know he was Robin. Growing up, his close friends had been Roy, Wally, Garth, and Donna, and they had saved the world together too many times to bother with such trivial things as secret identities. That had left only Barbara, but his friendship with her couldn't even begin to touch the others. And besides, he knew she was Batgirl…
Batgirl.
His thoughts returned once again to the athletic redhead that had sashayed into his vacated position by Batman's side. Batman couldn't have a partner, because partners were liabilities. So he had fired his partner, theoretically to keep him safe. Yet now, Robin finds that the role of squire to the Dark Knight has been filled by Batgirl, who is less skilled, less trained, and less competent as a vigilante. What? Are girls magically bulletproof now?
Dick was practically seething with anger, to the point where not even three hours of kicking the stuffing out of punching bags was sufficient release. Of course it wasn't Barbara's fault. She just happened to be in Gotham at the time, and he was stuck out here in Long Island. Barbara was just the easy target for his anger.
Really his anger was just a cover for how hurt and betrayed he felt that Batman—no, that Bruce, could just up and replace him so easily. The salt in the wound was that it was Batgirl, whom he had been personally sent to rescue on more than one occasion because she wasn't trained enough to make it on her own. Apparently Robin is too much of a liability to the Bat, but a lesser vigilante who just happens to be the daughter of the police commissioner isn't.
If he had felt angry, hurt, betrayed, and cast aside before, it was nothing to what he was experiencing now. Unfortunately, Boy Wonders don't have the luxury of anger. Emotions must always be channeled into something more useful, and as Dick ate his burrito and used his interface with the Bat-computer to track Barbara Gordon's credit card purchases to the hotel she checked into, he had a fairly good idea of how to do that.
First things first: he needed to clean up after Batman's mistake. Barbara was in the city because Bruce hadn't taken the costume away from her, as he should have done after he denied it to Robin if not even before that. Now she was in his way, and it was imperative that nothing stop him from taking down Harvey Dent. Not only that, but Batgirl had never been allowed to go up against Two-Face. Robin already has enough deaths on his conscience caused by the villain; he doesn't need Barbara's too.
To sum up, Dick needed to get Barbara out of town by tomorrow, for his benefit as well as her own. Of course, Barbara's not the type to leave if he were to ask her. On the contrary, she would probably decide to stay just to, well, be contrary. He would need to engineer a way that would give her no choice but to leave of her own accord, and as Dick powered down his laptop with a satisfactory grin, he knew exactly what would accomplish that.
Dick, dressed in casual clothes (a.k.a. an undercover uniform), drove the Red Bird in civilian mode out to the motel that Barbara was staying in. He recognized her blue Taurus sedan in the parking lot and parked the Red Bird a few spots away. Neither Barbara nor Batgirl had seen either incarnation of the car, so stakeout was a breeze. With an amused smirk Robin mused that Barbara wasn't the type to be paranoid about a stalker possibly watching her every move when she wasn't in costume. She wouldn't sense him watching when she left the hotel that morning, which would give him the freedom to break into her room without having to worry about being caught.
Sure enough, Barbara left her room around eleven, and without her bags. Undercover-Robin watched as she climbed into her car and drove out of the lot. He waited another ten minutes to be sure that she wasn't going to double back for anything. Thus satisfied that he could accomplish his 'mission' uninterrupted, Dick grabbed his spare set of Bat-approved lock picks from the glove box and left the car.
After tracking the hotel, Dick had 'accidentally' stumbled into their computer system and discovered that she was in room twenty. Thankfully it was on the back side of the motel block and so wasn't visible to the lobby and hotel manager. He could pick a standard lock in under fifteen seconds at his fastest, but even if it were to take as long as a minute, it was still plenty of time.
Less than a minute after he left the car, Dick was standing in the middle of Barbara Gordon's hotel room. A quick search and he found where she hid the Batgirl costume: at the bottom of her travel bag covered with dirty clothes. Dick sadly shook his head: the least she could have done was hidden it beneath a fake panel or something.
He had what he came for now. He put the costume in a shopping bag and left the room, locking it behind him. He'd let Barbara sweat over where she placed the costume to teach her a lesson about finding more secure places to stash it. Besides, he was fairly certain that she'd find out what he did with it eventually…
Lunchtime
"Ready to go, Vic?"
"Sure, Gar. Just lemme grab a jacket."
The two friends were getting ready to leave Victor's apartment for the Metropolitan Museum.
"You know, Vic, what with all your cool body modifications and stuff, you could walk around naked and no one care—not that I wanna see you naked or anything."
"Yeah, sure," Victor dismissed rather bitterly. "People would be yelling 'FREAK!' instead of 'FLASHER!' Very appealing."
"You don't look like a freak," Garfield reassured his friend. "You look like a cyborg."
"Funny." Victor now had his jacket on and was fishing in the pockets to be sure he had his keys. His apartment wasn't all that much to look at, but he paid for it himself with no help from his father, so he therefore it was the best apartment in the world. Even though he didn't particularly fear for his safety, he was rather attached to the necessities and creature comforts he had outfitted the place with, and given that this was Brooklyn, Victor had installed three additional deadbolts on his door, each with a different key. "You ready?"
"Totally," Garfield answered with a grin.
Victor gestured for Gar to precede him and the green teenager did so. Victor then pulled the door shut tight and locked the door lock and four deadbolts behind them.
"Good," he said when he was done. "Let's go."
The two friends made their way down the four flights of stairs to the ground level. From there, it was a two-block walk to the subway station.
"All I'm saying, Vic, is that you don't gotta hide who you are. I mean, I'm the freak here. People won't look at you any different than they do guys with wooden legs and stuff."
"Yeah? You all still stare at the guy with wooden legs, making pirate jokes behind his back when you don't think he can hear you. I've spent my time in hospitals and rehabilitation centers with other… amputees. The counselors always try and tell us that we're only imagining how much people stare. I'd like to see how they deal with the world when this happens to them."
"But you can still live a normal life. People may stare or crack jokes when you walk into a Burger King but they aren't gonna grab their kids by the hand and run screaming for the door like you're Swamp Thing or something."
"You don't look like Swamp Thing," Victor pointed out. "You look like Tork. They'll all be running screaming for your autograph."
"Shhhhhhhh!" Garfield flailed. "Ixnay on the Orktay!"
Victor laughed aloud. "Why are you so ashamed of your acting career?" he asked. "Do you have any idea how many people would kill to get the chance to star in a cult classic?"
"Cult classic?" Gar scoffed. "Dude, you're delusional. A cheesy sci-fi action/adventure yarn with convoluted B-movie script plotlines and a screwy shape-shifting alien that can never land a date soooo isn't classic. It's barely even cult."
"Whatever you say, Odo."
"AAAARRRRGGGHH!"
Barbara Gordon spent the morning with her 'Uncle Xavier' taking a tour of the campus. Unfortunately she didn't see Dick anywhere, but then she wasn't really expecting to just bump into him by chance. Now Dr. Cabrini had a class to teach and she was on her own until lunchtime.
That gave her plenty of time to hit up the library.
There were a series of coincidences that needed explaining, and any way she painted the picture in her head, she didn't like the conclusions. All of the pieces seemed to fit together, and yet at the same time, they shouldn't fit. It can't be true. Not after all this time!
Barbara was seated before one of the microfiche readers, scrolling through old copies of the Gotham City Herald. Batman reports and sightings were fairly commonplace, but for months there has been no sign of Robin. Nothing during the time that he was supposedly 'going to college.'
"Yeah right. Body building college," Barbara mused to herself as she scrolled. "And just what would Short Pants study?"
…
"Hey, Dick! What did you say your major was?"
"Criminology. But I'm thinking of picking up a psych minor."
…
"What indeed…"
Barbara scrolled back though the previous year and found nothing on Robin. If she had thought he disappeared sometime over the summer than she was a bit off. There had been no reported sightings for many months prior… in fact, nearly a year.
Barbara had scrolled all the way back to last October, pausing when she came to the headline about Dick's mugging. She'll never forget the look on her father's face when he told her what had happened. She also never thought she'd be thanking the Joker for anything, either, but according to reports it was his goons that scared off Dick's muggers and led Batman to the scene, saving Dick's life.
Forcing herself to scroll past the article, Barbara found that she didn't have far to go.
Batman and Robin reportedly hot on Joker's trail.
Just three days before the mugging.
"Three days…"
Three days.
Then something else clicked in her brain. Frantically she scrolled forward several weeks, looking for—
Police escort Joker back to Arkham after his release from the lockdown ward of Gotham City General Hospital
As Barbara read on, she learned that credit for the Joker's capture wasn't revealed due to unproven allegations of police brutality. However, Barbara knew that her father was there that night. There was no police brutality, but that didn't change the fact that the Joker needed surgery to set his broken ribs before they punctured a lung, and it was alleged that the broken femur might give him a limp for the rest of his life. Rumors of just how many units of blood he needed were never substantiated.
…
"He slipped."
…
"Sure Bullock. Right into Batman's fists."
Barbara stood from her chair on slightly shaky legs. It all fit. Every piece. The coincidences between Robin and Dick were too good to be true, and most likely not coincidence. The Joker must have shot Dick as Robin. That's how Batman was able to save him. That's why Dick refused to talk about the mugging, and why Batman refused to talk about Robin. That's why Robin was wearing a new costume, and why Batman nearly beat the Joker to death before leaving him for the GCPD.
Dick went to Hudson University to major in criminology and psychology. It was a bit of a character departure for him, but Barbara hadn't given it much thought. However, it was the perfect combination for Robin to study, especially under the tutelage of Drs Cabrini and Beach, both world-renowned in their fields. And 'Uncle Xavier' did mention how impressed he was with Dick's academic performance, and Cabrini doesn't impress easily. The Dick she knew was far from stupid, but no one would have called him 'brilliant,' either, especially in those particular fields of study. However, Robin was.
The Dick she knew loved to swing from chandeliers and flip off of banisters to impress her, and Robin has to be just about the best acrobat in the world.
Dick had to be Robin. There was no other explanation.
Barbara rewound the microfiche and popped the reel out of the viewer. She left it in the box of other discarded reels waiting for the librarians to reshelf them and made her way towards the door.
If she was the type, a good stiff drink would have done nicely. A nice strong latte would have to suffice.
All these years… she couldn't believe that she'd missed what was right under her nose. How many times has she seen Robin perform his patented quadruple flip, the one Dick Grayson is world famous for? How many times has Dick told her things like how he injured his leg in a snowmobile accident the day after Robin took a crowbar to the knee? It all fit, and yet she hadn't seen it until now.
And there was still Two-Face to contend with, but now it was Dick who was going up against the villain. Somehow, that made it worse.
Raven was on her way to the library in search of new reading material. She held the books she'd checked out last week in one arm while the other reached for the library door.
Then she jumped back as the door swung open.
"Raven?"
The goth girl had to compose herself quickly. She was caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of Dick Grayson's redheaded friend from the other day, whose thoughts and emotions were such a jumbled mess that she had to block it all before she gleaned anything from her mind.
"Barbara," she droned, masking her recovery. Then something caught her attention. Not a thought or a feeling per se. More like the memory of one, belatedly separated out from the rest of the cacophony that was Barbara's surface thoughts and emotions. That coupled with the seemingly haunted look in the redhead's eyes…
"Did you ever get a hold of Grayson?"
"No," Barbara replied, slightly breathless. She shook her head just as slightly. "If you'll excuse me…" And she brushed passed Raven without so much as another look in her direction.
The goth girl turned and stared after her for a moment, remembering the concern that flashed through Barbara's eyes at the mention of Dick Grayson. Raven recovered herself quickly though, and continued into the library to return her books. Searching for new ones to check out for the week could wait, however. She knew Dick's class schedule, and she knew where he lived. She would find him and finally get some answers, especially to the question of what was plaguing Barbara Gordon.
Mid Afternoon
Garfield and Victor had finished their tour of the museum, and Gar had (hopefully) taken enough notes for the paper assignment that was the point of the self-guided field trip. Even though Gar doubted that he'd ever understand what ancient Egyptian art had to do with popular American culture, he grudgingly had to admit that the artifacts were impressive to look at. With Victor there to make jokes with (and to keep him from getting lost in the museum), Gar found that he was actually enjoying himself, especially now that they had abandoned the museum for the gift shop.
"Forty bucks for a tee-shirt? Dude, what a rip-off!"
"They only overcharge you because they need the revenue to keep the museum open."
"But I thought that rich dudes donated all the money this place needs. Didn't you see all those names on the plaques on the wall?"
Victor shrugged. "Well maybe it's how they afford to buy more souvenirs," he offered.
Gar frowned slightly. "Whatever, man. I can't afford anything in here. Let's just go before it gets too depressing."
"Ah, the sad life of a broke college student," Victor lamented as they left the gift shop.
"Heh, tell me about it."
"Well, at least we got discounted admissions with our college IDs. It's too bad the museum café and the gift shop won't accept it though. So, we still on for GameStation at my place? I was thinking that we could grab a few slices of pizza on the way back—"
Suddenly the throng of people seemed to close in around them, and Victor and Garfield stopped short. Several large men then parted, and a tall, thin man with a pale, plastic-looking face and wide-brimmed hat stepped into view.
"Ah, excuse me?" Victor asked, slightly annoyed.
"I knooowwww yoouuu," the man drawled, somewhere between a purr and a hiss.
Garfield blinked and his jaw dropped. "Whoa…" he breathed.
Victor looked anxiously between the two of them.
"I'd recognize you anywhere, Garfield Logan. Your face is… rather hard to miss."
Garfield swallowed hard. "So's yours," he replied with false bravado.
The man sniggered and shook his head. "What are you doing here, Garfield? I never figured you for the museum type."
"We had homework," Victor replied, sounding impatient.
Garfield winced and the man laughed.
"Ah yes, you're in college now. I heard through the… proverbial grapevine. I saw your father not too long ago. I know he's very proud of you."
"Which one?" Garfield asked before he could stop himself, but once again the man only laughed.
"Oh that's right. I've forgotten that I've met both the men who've tried to claim the title. The first seems like a lifetime ago."
Garfield forced himself to say nothing at that.
"Look, you guys want something?" Victor asked rather hotly. It didn't take Einstein to figure out that his friend was less than thrilled with this chance meeting. "We're kinda in a hurry."
"Your manners are slipping," the man intoned. "You haven't introduced us to your friend yet."
"Victor Stone," Victor answered for himself, crossing his rather large arms. The large men behind the speaker shifted slightly on their feet.
"My, my, but this could get interesting."
"It doesn't have to," Gar replied quickly.
Suddenly the man unclenched his fist and a coin popped into the air. Victor heard Garfield hold his breath while the silver disc rotated in the air. Then the man caught it, glanced at it, and grinned a plastic grin.
"You should be getting back to campus, Garfield," said the man. "I know daddy won't like you being out in the big city after dark. So many frightful things happen in the big city at night."
"We were on our way now, until you decided to stand in the way to say hello."
Garfield audibly gasped when Vic said that, and the stranger's grin turned feral.
"Far be it for us to stand in your way then." He and his entourage walked forward, parting around Garfield and Victor, and continued on towards the exhibits. "See you around, Garfield."
The weather was still nice enough for many of the students to decide to take their homework outdoors. The lawns in front of the dormitories and classroom buildings were prime locations for such things, and a good handful of students were sitting here reading or working on laptops in the bright afternoon sunshine.
Reading a dime novel she had picked up at a nearby drug store, Barbara Gordon sat among them. With her hair pulled back and her head down she hoped that Dick—if he really was who she thought he was—wouldn't be able to pick her out of the crowd. She sat on her jacket, pretending to read as she kept silent surveillance on the throngs of passers-by, keeping an eye out for Dick Grayson.
The spot she chose gave her an excellent view of the main entrance to Flanders Hall, the building that housed the English department. Hacking the registrar's office to see Dick's schedule had been easy. He had college writing at 3:30. If she didn't see him walking elsewhere then surely she would spot him as he made his way to class, and from this vantage point she would be able to instantly tell if he was Robin. It was simple enough: Robin had toned up quite a bit since the last tine she'd seen him, and though Dick was deceptively muscular, his build always strayed on the thin and wiry side. If when she saw him he looked considerably like he had been working out then Barbara would have her answer.
At three 3:28 Barbara's stakeout paid off.
She nearly missed him. His hair had grown out a bit and hung untamed and loosely combed. His dark jeans and combat boots were a far cry from the Dockers and loafers she remembered, but the Gotham Knights championship tee shirt was a giveaway, as was the backpack he was carrying. It was the same one that he would carry books in when he would keep her company at the Gotham University Library.
More than these clues, Barbara noticed his agility in the way he darted between and around slower students as he tried to get to class on time, and how he effortlessly leapt up from the ground to the top of the staircase, clearing the three concrete steps with ease. She saw the look on his face that hovered between expressionless and determination, and she saw his arms. The muscles, while still not blatantly prominent, were a lot more defined than they used to be.
There was no denying it.
Dick Grayson was Robin, the Boy Wonder.
As her stomach lurched from the implications of this discovery, Barbara wondered whether or not she was better off not knowing.
Dinnertime
"Jeez Gar, that's the eighth race in a row I've beaten you at."
Garfield sighed and discarded his controller. "Sorry, dude. I'll get you next time. I promise."
"What's up with you today? You haven't been the same since we left the museum. I know that creepy guy we ran into has something to do with it."
"I already told you, it's nothing. Nothing important anyway."
"Bull. If it's so unimportant you wouldn't be thinking about it instead of trying to kick my ass in videogames."
"It's nothing you wanna worry about," Gar dismissed as he stood from the floor and grabbed a seat on the futon.
"Look," Victor began, standing as well. "Since I moved to Brooklyn and started college, aside from a few cool acquaintances I've made only one friend, and that's you dawg. Now we agreed that we'd be able to talk about stuff with each other that we can't and won't tell other people. Talk to me, Gar. Appease my curiosity."
Garfield sighed again as he stared up at Victor from the futon. His friend had his arms folded and was gazing down at him, seemingly waiting for an answer. Finally Gar decided to give his friend what he wanted.
"You remember how I said I bounced from foster home to foster home after getting back from Africa?"
"Yep," Victor replied as he too sat on the futon. "Why?"
"You remember how I said that my parents' crooked lawyer tried to adopt me so that he could get a hold of the money I get to inherit?"
"Uh huh. That Galtry guy."
"Well that guy back at the museum, he's used to be a lawyer. He and Galtry were friends back when I was living with him, even though Galtry was being investigated. Then the guy was forced to quit his job not long after the investigation started, and it's one of the main reasons it took so long."
"That sucks."
"It isn't even the worst part. That guy at the museum, he's a criminal himself now; and I'm guessing the men he had with him are thugs, too. I have no idea why he's not in jail right now."
"Lawyer turned crook responsible for you having to stay in the System longer," Victor observed. "And he knows you personally. Yuck."
"Yuck is right."
"So who's the other guy?"
"Huh?"
"Back at the museum, when he said he saw your father you asked him which one. If one's Galtry then who's the other?"
Garfield sighed. He was hoping Vic would have missed that part.
"Well, like I said, I sorta grew up in Social Services in Gotham, and Gotham has a lot of bad people in it, and the System sucks. I wound up once with another unsavory-type dude. He was real nice to me n'all, on account a how he said he knew what it was like to be picked on as a kid for being different. But the guy was a career criminal and definitely had a few screws loose."
"That really sucks, man," Victor said sincerely. "And that crooked ex-lawyer guy knew this other winner of yours?"
Garfield snorted a laugh. "They met when they were both incarcerated, but you know Gotham. Blackgate practically has a revolving door for criminals to get back on the streets, and Arkham's even worse. I think they may have worked together when they were both out at the same time, but I'm not sure. I was in another home by then. Still, stories get told. Rumors spread. Inmates talk about their old lives, their families, stuff like that."
"So our ex-lawyer friend found out that he knew his cellmate's son as being the ex-foster son of some other criminal, an old friend of his from back when he was still a lawyer?"
"Pretty much," Garfield said with a shrug. "The sad thing is that, if he had managed to stay a lawyer for a bit longer, he would have uncovered Galtry's dirty secrets and brought the dude down, even though they were friends. But shit happened and he stopped being a lawyer, and when that happened the investigation got sidetracked and I got the short end of it."
"Damn, man. I don't know what to say…"
"You don't have to say anything, dude. It's over and done with. I'm eighteen now, so the System can't touch me, and my inheritance is gonna be waiting for me when I turn twenty-one. My last foster parents are cool with me living with them while I'm in college even though they didn't have to. Galtry's pounding out license plates at some medium security prison upstate somewhere and the nut-job hasn't tried to contact me in over a year."
"But what about that ex-lawyer, dawg? He knows you."
"Oh, him. I wouldn't worry too much, dude. He'll commit a crime sooner or later; then he'll be caught again and shipped back to Gotham."
"Man, I don't understand how you can be so calm about all of it."
"Dude, did you see me at the museum? I wasn't exactly 'calm'."
Victor laughed in spite of himself. "But still… and here I thought having a second cousin go to jail for tax evasion was a bad thing."
"They nabbed Galtry for fraud, dude. That's almost the same thing."
"So I guess your heart wasn't in the videogames because the guy at the museum reminded you of just how sucky your childhood was—no offense."
Garfield laughed. "None taken. And yeah, I guess I was just… thinking about that past n'stuff."
"It's cool, man."
"Well, thanks for listening Vic. I should probably fly home and start on that paper." Garfield stood from the futon at last and walked over towards the windows.
"No problem, dawg. Watch out for hawks."
"Heh, then I'll just turn into pterodactyl."
"Aw man, you gotta give me a demo some time. I'd love to see you do that."
Garfield smiled and opened a window.
"Any animal you can name dude. But the peregrine falcon is the fastest bird in the sky, so…" And Garfield transformed into a falcon, fluttered a few times and chirped once in good bye before flying out the window and back towards Long Island and his dorm room.
Later that evening
Gotham
"Master Bruce? A package has just arrived for you. Same-day business mail."
"Not now Alfred," Bruce—or rather, Batman replied. He was down in the cave at the Bat-computer, working on tracking down Two-Face.
"Actually sir, I do not think this particular package should wait."
Batman scowled a little deeper than usual but stood from his computer anyway. "Bring it over to the workstation," he directed.
Alfred brought the package over and put it on the workstation countertop. Batman looked the package over, his eyes narrowing to slits when he saw the return address:
Your friendly neighborhood fear expert, making all your nightmares come true.
"This wasn't posted in Gotham…" Batman noted. "It was mailed from New York City, see? Look at the post office stamp."
"I thought that Mr. Crane was still incarcerated in Arkham."
"He is, Alfred. So unless he has a larger outside network than ever before…"
"Then this package is not from him."
"I'm going to screen it anyway, just to be sure."
"A wise idea, sir."
Batman spent the next hour examining the package, using X-rays, a Geiger counter, infra-red and ultraviolet sensors, electro-magnetic frequency descramblers, and his own personalized battery of tests designed to identify and neutralize such things as fear toxin and Smilex gas. Finally he deemed the package safe to open.
Even still, he told Alfred to wait for him outside the cave.
With painstaking care, Batman removed the packing tape and pulled back the box cover. No explosions happened, no projectiles were launched, and no gas was released. Batman set the box top carefully aside and reached a gloved hand cautiously but deliberately inside. A smaller package was contained therein, wrapped in tissue paper. He pulled this out and set it on the countertop.
"Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice sounded over the intercom.
"Nothing yet," Batman replied, referring to events untoward.
"May I inquire as to what's in the package sir?"
"A small bundle, wrapped in tissue paper. Stand by."
Slowly, carefully, Batman peeled away the tissue paper layers to reveal what was concealed within.
Through the intercom, Alfred heard Bruce's gasp.
"Are you all right, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, concerned.
When Bruce didn't answer Alfred decided to head back to the cave to see for himself.
"It's not real blood," was the first thing that Batman said to him.
"Sir?"
Then Alfred came close enough to see what Batman was referring to. "Oh my…"
"It's not real blood," Batman repeated. "The texture is wrong. So is the scent."
Alfred bent over and gave the not-real-blood a critical eye. "If I may, sir, I do believe that is stage blood, the kind used by actors."
Batman merely nodded. He was too busy holding Batgirl's costume up to the light, staring at the bright red stain covering the chest and the small hole in the center of the Bat-logo.
"That's not a bullet hole, either," he said at length. "There's no charring of the edges, no melting of nearby fibers." He then put the costume down and slid the relevant section under a microscope. "From the fraying of the threads it looks like the work of an exact-o knife, though whoever cut the hole knew exactly how big a thirty-eight caliber bullet is."
"What's this?" Alfred asked suddenly.
Batman turned and saw the butler pointing towards the floor. "It's an envelope," he replied.
"Indeed," Alfred answered dryly.
Batman bent down and picked it up with his gloved hands and brought it over to the workstation. The envelope read:
Mr. Wayne, please take the necessary steps to ensure that this package is delivered to Batman.
"It must have fallen out of the folds of the costume…"
"Are you going to open it, sir?"
Batman frowned again. "Wait over by the computer, Alfred," he directed, knowing that it would be futile to order the butler upstairs again given recent developments. Then with Alfred safely out of the way, Batman took a small knife and gingerly cut the envelope open, ever mindful of the possibilities of an aerosol release. When nothing happened, Batman slid the letter out of the envelope and carefully unfolded it.
Alfred saw Batman tense from across the room. Then he watched as Batman crushed the letter in his hand and threw it down. This was followed by an the swipe an angry hand across the countertop that sent the box, tissue paper, Batgirl costume, and microscope crashing to the floor.
"Master Bruce?"
Batman ignored him. Alfred watched as he stormed over to the Batmobile, pressing the button to release the hatch as he went. It was fully open just in time for Batman to jump into the car. A second later and the engine fired up. Another second and the Batmobile went screeching out of the cave into the Gotham night.
Alfred sighed tiredly, watching after where the Batmobile had vanished for several long moments. Then he made his way over to the workstation and began picking up the things that Batman had knocked to the ground. He put the tissue paper back in the box and set that aside. The Batgirl costume he folded and put on the counter. With chagrin he noted that he would need to fetch the broom in order to clean up the microscope.
Lastly, Alfred picked up the crumpled note. When he read its contents he instantly knew what had produced such a violent reaction in the Batman.
Will you fire your new partner if she gets shot too?
"… Good heavens."
AN- It's canon that Cyborg went to New York after he recovered from the accident. Specifically he went to Hell's Kitchen before being recruited by Raven into the New Teen Titans. However, Victor isn't exactly poor, even though he wants to make it on his own without daddy's help. Also, he's rather paranoid about people stealing his things, such as the equipment that he needs to keep around in order to live (battery chargers, etc). Therefore we've decided to put him in a slightly better neighborhood.
