"Just your firewalls and encryptions weren't enough," I explained as I leaned forward over the keyboard, studying the coding I typed in to the screen. "We need to get more infrastructure in place. Touch pads, retinal scanners, voice identification…"
"Will that work, with how I alter my voice? And, not to burst your bubble, but I wear gloves," Bruce argued as he stood behind me, his arms crossed as he watched me code. I smiled, but didn't break away from the screen.
"How you change your voice doesn't matter. A good voice recognition software can ID your voice if you spoke through a modulator inside a paper bag," I smiled, finally turning back to him. "And put sensors in your gloves. It's not that hard."
"Fair enough," he responded. I heard footsteps behind him and turned in my seat to see Alfred approaching, a tray in his hands.
"Miss Gordon, don't forget to key in my specifications for these new technologies," he said as he neared us. "I access these technologies just as frequently as Master Bruce, and don't want the security going off when he's out pulverizing Gotham's finest." I smiled as he lowered the tray, a glass of lemonade offered to me.
"Of course, Alfred," I smiled as I lifted the glass to take a sip. "Do you always call him 'Master?'" Bruce shrugged with a laugh at Alfred, who shared a familiar glance with him before turning back to face me.
"I find it's a fonder name than many others I could call him," he cheerily replied. I nearly choked on my lemonade as I laughed.
"Alfred raised me since I was a kid. He can call me whatever he wants," he said with a smile to his friend. "I'm lucky he goes easy on me." I downed half of my lemonade and turned back to the computer.
"Where do you get all this hardware from?" I asked. "There's some hardcore stuff down here."
"Luckily, I have some friends at Wayne Enterprises," he said. I shook my head.
"That was a dumb question," I scolded myself as I completed my coding.
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Bruce said. "We have a lot we can talk through." As I entered the final bit of coding, I spun around in the chair.
"Just like that, huh?" I asked. He smiled.
"Just like that," he said, draining his lemonade and putting the glass down. "I've worked with your father a long time, Barbara. He's a good man."
"One of the few," I nodded.
"Are you sure you want to do this? Putting yourself out there, doing what I do… it puts a lot at risk," he said. I nodded somberly for a moment.
"My whole life, my dad put his fight above his safety. Our safety… sometimes," I said, reflecting on what I was trying to say. "It's a fight worth fighting. Even if it risks everything." Bruce studied my eyes and nodded back slowly. I wasn't sure if his silence was indicative of a lack of faith, as if I didn't know what I was risking, or if he was proud my sentiments mirrored his own. "I want to help you, Bruce. I've been wanting to help Batman for years."
"I'll want to start putting you in some training sessions soon," he said, turning and waving for Alfred to come closer. I stood, eager and excited. "I need to establish your baseline, figure out what you have yet to learn."
"I'm ready," I answered confidently.
"Alfred's going to get your measurements," he said as his butler started to move my limbs out of his way to measure my waist and hips, then leg length and inseam.
"For what?"
"You don't think I'd send you out there in that Halloween costume you wore the other night, do you?" he asked with characteristic Bruce Wayne charm. I laughed quietly and couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of having a Bat-suit, but I kept my excitement to myself. A low rumble jarred my attention.
"You hear that?" I asked him quietly. But Alfred didn't seem bothered and kept gathering my measurements.
"Yes," Bruce answered, turning and walking back towards the landing pad for the Batmobile. "This should be fun." Before I could ask what he meant, the rumble turned louder and a black and blue motorcycle zipped onto the pad. It was Nightwing. He'd worn no helmet, and his jet black hair looked tousled from the motorcycle ride, but in a way that almost looked intentional. His blue eyes were piercing, even from so far away. As he dismounted his bike, he shrugged his shoulders at Bruce.
"How do you always know when I'll be showing up?" he laughed. "Not keeping tabs on me, are you?"
"Should I be?" Bruce answered in his more characteristic Batman voice.
"That sounds more like the Bruce I'm used to," he shook his head. As he did, his eyes caught my gaze. He locked eyes with me and continued to whisper to Bruce in a hushed tone.
"She's joining me," Bruce said, turning away from Nightwing and moving back up the ramp towards Alfred and me. Alfred began measuring my shoulders and arms.
"Well hold it, when did this happen?" he caught up to Bruce and waved his hand haltingly. "She's smart, I'll give her that, but she doesn't fight, does she?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself," I loudly suggested. He looked past Bruce at me, his eyes again locking with mine. I wondered if my eyes were anywhere near as blue as his. He smiled and let loose a short chuckle. He strode past Bruce with a cocky demeanor that matched all the footage and pictures I'd seen of him.
"That a dare?" he asked. Was it a flirt? I did all I could to keep my cheeks from flushing red.
"A challenge. Maybe," I responded. He smiled as he stopped in front of me, smirking.
"She's not ready, Dick," Bruce called over. Nightwing's eyes doubled in size as he whirled around to face Bruce.
"The hell, Bruce?" he snapped. "We have code names for a reason, don't we?"
"She's on our side," Bruce said, turning back to a computer near a centrifuge.
"Honestly, I just thought Bruce was making a character judgment," I joked. Dick turned back to me with a smug smile.
"Alright, Miss Gordon," he smiled and grabbed my hand. "Dick Grayson. Nightwing." He shook my hand, and I answered his shake with matched enthusiasm. He leaned in close to me and whispered, "no telling." I clenched my jaw to keep my cheeks from turning red.
"Master Grayson, could you fetch my notebook from the tray?" Alfred asked as stretched the tape measure down my spine. Dick let go of my hand and retrieved the notebook. I felt Alfred drop the tape measure behind me. I twisted to bend down for it, but felt Dick's hand on my back as I reached the floor, and his other hand grabbed up the tape measure before I could.
"Why don't you let me do that, Alfred?" he asked, his eyes focused on mine rather than Alfred's. "You can write down the measurements, I'll take them." I held my gaze on his, thought I felt my skin crawling with nerves.
"I'm certain Miss Gordon would…"
"It's fine," I interrupted him. I turned back to Alfred and gave a calm shrug. "He's harmless. And if he pushes any buttons, I'll push his twice as hard." Alfred smiled at me and traded places with Dick. I watched as Alfred jotted down notes in his book and listened keenly as Dick finagled with the tangled tape measure.
"So, Miss Gordon," Dick started, wrapping the tape measure around the top of my forehead like a laurel crown. "How did you figure old Brucey out? 57 centimeters on the hat size, Alfred." Alfred jotted the note down as the tape measure fell in front of my eyes and was pulled tightly. "53 on the mask size."
"Get her side, will you?" Alfred asked. Dick moved around to my side and lifted my arm. He placed one tip of the tape in my armpit, and I fidgeted briefly before regaining control.
"Ticklish, huh?" he whispered and smiled down at me as he stretched the tape to my hip.
"I was at the masquerade the other night," I evaded, answering his previous question. "Decrypted his network and found him out." He laughed a little as he moved behind me and lifted my other arm.
"So, you break into his Batcave and he gives you a job, just like that?" Dick asked, his hands wrapping familiarly around me and the tape measure stretching around my waist. "31 inches on the waist, and 20 on the side."
"To be fair, I volunteered," I answered. Before I knew it, the tape measure was shimmying up over my chest.
"36 on the bust," Dick called out. I watched as Alfred and Bruce both looked up at me and Dick, and it was harder than ever not to blush. "C, I'm guessing?" he said quietly, just for me to hear. Instead of blushing, I smiled.
"You haven't pulled it tight yet," I said over my shoulder. He chuckled back at me, and the tape measure tightened over my thin, cotton shirt.
"My bad… 34," he corrected himself.
"Alfred, did you need a cup size?" I asked.
"No, Miss Gordon, I do not," he shook his head in slight embarrassment as he returned to his measurements.
"Then I guess you'll never know," I quietly answered Dick. The tape measure dropped briefly, then I felt Dick's hand brush around my neck. His hands were rough but I didn't shy from them. He wrapped the tape measure around my neck and it tightened in place; not tight, but a tenuous pressure all the same.
"Never say never," he softly whispered at me. I did my best to control my breathing and stay calm, despite my raised heart rate. "12 inches on the neck, Alfred." He moved around me and tossed the tape measure into the air. I caught it quickly and pulled it close, hoping I wasn't blushing. He smiled smugly at me and I stared him down, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.
"Bruce, why don't I hit the gym with her?" Dick offered. He turned back to me with a smile. "See how much she can handle?"
"Not today," Bruce answered. "I'm running diagnostics on her tomorrow. If you want to be her spotter, I won't stop you. But she might." He raised his eyebrows at me.
"Sure," I answered politely. "He can be my water boy."