Bruce's tests were tough. Everything was done to failure. I could only manage four 'muscle-ups,' lifting my entire body over the pull up bar, until I failed. But I made it to 106 pushups before I truly failed. I ran nine miles at varying intensities and inclines until I failed. I lost count of the crunches I did, but I remember briefly feeling like I couldn't breath when I'd finally laid down and stopped.
The augmented reality trainings were the trickiest. They were programmed by a friend of Bruce's at Wayne Enterprises, Lucius Fox, to adapt to my skills and abilities. So, while the first round of holograms were easily subdued with a few well timed punches, the fourth round had me doing round house kicks higher than I'd ever managed previously; the seventh round had me dodging blades and bullets; the eleventh round did me in with skilled swordsmen I could only describe as ninjas.
"Simulation failed," I heard a computerized voice judge me as the holograms disappeared and I leaned over my knees. A door opened into the room and Bruce emerged.
"Ninjas?" I panted out. "How often… do you come against… ninjas?"
"You'd be surprised," he smiled. "You did well."
"Well enough?" I asked. He nodded.
"You've got more to learn," he said.
"Nothing her water boy can't show her," Dick called. He emerged from the door behind Bruce and threw a water bottle at me. I stood up and caught it, squeezing it and allowing the water to shoot down my throat. I felt like death. Could I ask for Alfred to install a camelback or other water pouch in my Batsuit? "You've put her through the ringer enough for one day, haven't you Bruce?"
"We're done for the day," Bruce said, and the room reacted. The walls dulled in their brightness and the room faded back to normal lighting. "You should get some rest."
"No, I'm fine," I reassured him. "What's next?"
"Barbara, today was designed to push you to your body's limits," Bruce said solemnly to me. "If you have more to give, you've missed the point." I laughed a little under my breath. I supposed working more wasn't going to happen. "Come back in two days. Alfred will analyze your movements and we'll start training you then." Bruce turned and started for the exit to the room.
"Great," Dick called out happily as Bruce left, then turned back to me, "that makes you free tonight, right?" I laughed, and tried to formulate an excuse, but he stopped me. "I thought you were fine?" I smiled reservedly. I supposed there was no getting out of it.
"What did you have in mind?" I asked.
We took his motorcycle out. It wasn't the Nightcycle, as he had so lovingly dubbed his caped alter ego's bike, but his own. It was a run-down Ducati, possibly older than me, but it worked all the same. Something about it matched him: I didn't know if I could trust it, and knew I probably shouldn't, yet I did all the same. I held my hands on his hips during the ride. While I thought about wrapping my arms around his waist, or even letting my hands explore his thighs as we rode, I knew it was a bad idea. I wanted this partnership with Bruce to last, and Dick seemed to be my fastest way to lose Bruce's trust. I knew I'd have to keep that in check.
"Good Goods?" I'd asked from the back of his bike at an intersection, when he told me where we were going.
"It's a cop hotspot. Especially for some of the less 'good' cops in Bludhaven," he explained.
"Oh. Great," I laughed as we sped south through Jersey, out of Gotham. When we arrived, we parked outside of the run-down joint and he allowed me off his bike first. "You know, I don't typically ride motorcycles without a helmet." He dismounted his bike and turned back to me.
"Why make an exception this time?" he asked me. I tried to think of one quickly, but all that came to mind was how cute he was, how charming he sounded, and how his rough palm felt against my neck the day before. I closed my lips and exhaled.
"It won't happen again," I promised. He smiled and suppressed a giggle and tapped his finger against my nose.
"Come on, first round's on me," he said, turning away and leading me into the bar. I followed, exhaling and calming myself. Alcohol was only going to turn me on to him more. I wouldn't let myself have more than one drink. I couldn't. Just in case.
Inside the bar, no one looked like they were of particular interest. A few off-duty cops talked loudly in the corner, and a man slumped over the bar in a drunken stupor, but no one attracted attention as a suspect.
"Casing the joint already, huh?" Dick asked as he led me to the bar. I smiled, a bit embarrassed. "Look, be cool, okay? It's just a drink. And if it turns out to be more than that, lucky me." I tried my damnedest not to smile, but the corners of my lips rose anyways. He sat down on a barstool and patted the seat beside him.
"What do you want?" the grisly female bartender asked us.
"She will have a vodka cranberry, and I will have a whiskey neat," Dick said.
"Change mine to whiskey neat, please," I insisted to the woman. "Rye, if you have it." She nodded and winked back at me, and I smiled graciously in return.
"Trying to keep up with me, huh?" Dick asked. I smiled smugly.
"It doesn't take much," I answered. I brushed the hair back behind my ear and watched the bartender free-pour our drinks into water stained glasses. I could feel Dick's eyes on me as I looked ahead, but I didn't turn to face him. There was something very tense in this moment, like there was a danger I was courting. The bartender put the glasses down in front of us and smiled in a cheeky way as she retreated, as if she didn't want to interrupt whatever we were doing.
"To your first day," Dick said as he lifted his glass in front of him. I held mine up in response. "Let me know when you get your hands full." He clinked his glass against mine and sipped, but I waited. He lowered the glass from his lips and turned smugly to me with a provoking smile.
"I'll let you know," I answered sardonically, and kept my eyes on his as I raised my glass and took a long sip. He laughed a little and wiped his mouth, his fingers tracing his lower lip as I lowered my glass, swirling it before placing it back down on the counter.
"Tell me, Barb," he said. A surge of energy shot through my gut and chest as he said Barb, a nickname that even my father rarely used. "What did you want to be when you grew up? When you were little?" I swirled the whiskey in my glass as I looked back at some of the dirty cops lining the room.
"A detective," I answered honestly. He nodded knowingly.
"Like your dad," he said. I took a moment, but shook my head.
"Not exactly," I answered. His brow furrowed. "Dad… trusts the system. At the end of the day, he has faith that the guys he catches will answer for their crimes." At that, Dick smiled.
"And you don't?" he clarified. I opened my mouth to answer, but discovered I had no rebuttal to give. I picked up my glass and took another sip. He laughed a little under his breath.
"What about you?" I asked instead, pushing my hair back over my shoulder as I looked at him. "You always wanted to be… what you've become?" I asked quietly. He picked up his glass with a smile.
"As long as I can remember, yeah," he said. "Some version of it, at least."
"Why did you leave?" I asked. He took a longer sip than I'd expected, clearly to stall for another moment. It was a question I'd been curious about ever since Robin had stopped appearing alongside Batman months ago. Why would he leave Batman, if he didn't need to? Especially if he was just going to assume another mantel other than Robin? He put down his glass and let out a satisfied sigh as he smiled down at the drink, then turned to smile up at me.
"You know," he said, "I think that is a story for another drink. You can buy that round." I smiled to myself and grabbed my glass, fingering the ridges on the sides as we sat quietly. Dick suddenly downed the rest of his glass and pulled his wallet out of his back jeans pocket. "Come on," he said, throwing down a twenty for the drinks. He quickly stood and I got up and followed, confused at why we were leaving in such a hurry. Two cops were staggering out ahead of us and slurring their words. I couldn't make out much of what they were saying, but Dick seemed to care regardless. There was something at play here.
As we arrived at the door, one of the cops turned around and caught my eye. I didn't look away evasively but allowed my gaze to meet his for a moment and forced a quick smile. He grabbed his friend's sleeve and yanked him back. "Ladies first," he insisted. I could smell the gin on him, and his mischievous smile was enough to set me off. But I smiled meekly and innocently brushed the hair behind my ear as I stepped ahead of Dick and out the door first.
"Appreciate the thought, officers," Dick kindly acknowledged the men as we left. I walked straight to the bike as I heard the footsteps of the cops heading in the opposite direction. I stepped aside and let Dick mount the bike, kicking the engine to life.
"Why are we following them?" I asked quietly. He looked up at me, a bit surprised I had caught on so quickly. He smiled cutely, that sideways smile that made me feel warm when I saw it.
"Tell you on the way," he said, looking over his shoulder at the seat behind him. I climbed on back, knowing I should question riding on the bike with him after he'd had a whiskey but staying quiet.
"So this is your version of the night turning into 'something more,' huh?" I asked. He let out a cute laugh under his breath. I leaned forward over his shoulder as I watched the two police get in a police car parked down the curb from us. Dick maneuvered us out of the parking spot as they began to drive off, their car swaying from side to side in their lane. We followed closely, but let distance gradually grow between us as the city traffic picked up. We were heading back to Gotham.
"I've been seeing a few green question marks in Bludhaven," he shouted back to me over the roar of the engine. "They hide pretty well with the other graffiti, but they're there- and they're becoming more and more frequent."
"Riddler," I acknowledged.
"Nigma's notorious for blackmailing and bribing dirty cops into helping him out. Question is, why's he heading to Bludhaven?" he said as the bike slowed to a stop at a red light. The cop car flicked on it's lights and ran the red light, turning them off again as soon as they were through. "Damn it," Dick grumbled, and the bike darted to the side. I clenched my legs tight around his thighs as we slunk between the rows of cars. "Hang on," he shouted, revving the bike faster and weaving to the right as traffic began to emerge from the left. I slumped forward so my chest clung around his back, my arms latching around his abs. We made it through the intersection with only a few horns blaring at us, and the car we were tailing didn't seem to notice.
"I thought Nigma was in custody?" I called to him. He laughed in response.
"Yeah, long story. You ever hear of the Suicide Squad?" he asked.
"No?" I answered, wanting to know more.
"Yeah, you'll have to buy the next round so I can tell that story," he said as we watched the car turn a corner.
"It's sounding like I'm going to have to buy a few rounds," I said. I saw him briefly smile over his shoulder as we approached the light.
"Guess we'll be spending a lot of time together, huh?" he said. I couldn't help but smile, but I hoped he couldn't tell.
"You think these cops are working with Nigma?" I asked.
"I know they are," he answered. "I'm just waiting to see if they'll take me back to him." We tailed them until they parked in front of The Oblivion Bar in Chinatown. But Dick sped past the place.
"Where are you going?" I asked, turning over my shoulder to catch another glance before it disappeared.
"We were just casing… no roughhousing tonight," he said as he turned a corner towards the bridge to Miagani Island.
"But if that's where they're colluding, shouldn't we…"
"We're in street clothes, Barb," he smirked. "I've almost had my identity blown before. I'll tell you what, it's not a smart move." I didn't protest anymore, but I wanted to. I stored away the information in the back of my mind, wanting to return as soon as I could. "This is my fight. You'll stay out of it."
"If that's what you wanted, why'd you bring me with you tonight?" I asked after a long pause.
"I was just hoping to get to know you a little better," he flirted. But I wasn't in the mood. I let my grip loosen around him and I sat back on the bike, hoping he got the message. He turned towards the bridge to go to Gotham mainland and was quiet a long moment. "I'm the only partner he's ever had," he said, almost too quiet for me to hear him. "Besides Alfred, that is. I don't regret leaving. But I need to know you can handle the shit. Because it will be shit." I reflected on that a long moment.
"I can," I called up. He didn't answer a long time.
"We'll see," he responded. He pulled up in front of my dad's apartment and turned off the bike, allowing me to dismount.
"You checked me out," I said, stepping onto the curb. He didn't answer, but he got off the bike with a confused smile on his face. "You know where I live." I let out a small laugh of understanding.
"Yes," he answered. "I… checked you out." He stepped closer, looking up and down the sidewalk for people he didn't want overseeing. "I'm going to keep checking you out, too," he smiled, and I knew he meant the double meaning. I broke eye contact and smiled to myself.
"I'm game, when you want to help train me," I said. He nodded smugly.
"It's a date," he said. He reached up to my face in a way that was all too familiar and intimate, and brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. I was preparing myself for what to do if he tried to kiss me, but he instead winked and turned away. He mounted his bike and revved the engine as I turned away and went inside the main door to the apartment. I allowed myself to stall at the bottom of the stairs, letting out a sigh of tension and relief. I hurried up the steps, the stairwell lousy with the noises of what was going on in other apartments. I heard the screaming argument of the couple in 2A and wondered if I'd soon have the mask to do something about when he hit his wife. When I reached our apartment, I took the key out of my jacket pocket and went inside, locking it again behind me.
"Barbara," I heard Dad say from the kitchen. I smiled in at him.
"Hi dad."
"Where have you been all night?" he asked, eating a microwave dinner at the counter. I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door and pulled the jacket off my arms.
"I had a date."