Take 3: Making a Gotham out of Blüdhaven

Batman did not know which was worth more question: that he was being called, or the way he was being called.

He had hardly spotted the little flash of light and the bat at its center - a poor miniature mimic of his Bat-signal - across the rooftop of the B.H.P.D. building.

But it was there, and he answered it.

The one who greeted him might as well be a boy, young as he was. Yet, he stood tall even in Batman's presence, returning the chilling aloofness with silent regard.

"You're a rookie," Batman had commented bluntly, catching the lack of badge and other details.

The young man nodded, though appearing justifiably indignant about the fact. "B.H.P.D. has 'special requirements' that I have yet to meet. But that is not why I asked for this meeting, sir."

"What is it, then?"
Batman was curt, not because of anything personal; Chief Redhorn had not sent him off on a positive note just minutes earlier.

"You wanted information on the recent gun-running activities taking place near the harbors."

Batman did not so much as blink as the rookie cop held out a binder-file of paper. Taking it with equal solemnity, he looked through it.
"Your Chief of Police told me this information did not exist."

"It should not; his orders were to erase every detail of this, as though it never existed. His boss wanted him to cover it up."

Batman looked up at this point, demanding further explanation which the boy gave.

"Blockbuster has the police force on his monthly budget, especially Chief Redhorn; almost every officer in that building drives a Jag, eats in a restaurant three times a day, seven days a week, or vacations at Hawaii on regular basis.
"There's deep corruption running here, so deep, you'd think Superman would have a better time changing a river's course than tackling this run-down dump."

"Why tell me all this?"

"Because you can do something about it," the rookie stated in a matter-of-fact manner. "You're Batman; you can do anything for the sake of justice."

"Where's this confidence coming from?" Batman commented sardonically; if he had any sense of humor on the job, this was probably it.

"I grew up in Gotham with G.C.P.D. officer Montoya as my legal guardian, and I have a girlfriend back there. I've seen you in action since I was eight. If anyone can make a difference in this place, even for just one little night, it has to be you."

Batman was silent again, before holding out the papers. "You're risking a lot by handing me these."

"Years ago, you helped a little Romany boy who lost everything he once knew. You brought his parents' murderer to justice, and you helped him find a home with a strong police officer who could teach him to grow up straight and good.
"Consider this his way of payback."

When he got no answer, the rookie cop sighed and picked up the cardboard bat cutout and made as to destroy it.

"Hold on to that."

The young man stopped and looked up, surprise written all over his face.

"I won't be leaving anytime soon," Batman informed him solemnly. "At least, not with this lead you have given me.
"Call me if there's anything else."

The boy blinked, then a smile formed as he nodded. "Absolutely.
"Tomorrow night, then."

"Very well."

Batman turned and fired a grappling hook toward the next building, one hand keeping firm hold of the precious file.

"Batman? Thank you."

He was already flying through the air by then, landing on another perch. As he looked back for a brief moment, he saw the rookie disappear back into the building. Alone, he allowed himself a small shadow of a smile.

No, Dick Grayson; thank you.