"Would you like a cup of tea, Miss Gordon?" Alfred offered me as I sat in one of Bruce's large desk chairs.
"No thank you, Alfred," I answered with a smile.
"Or a sweater? I'm afraid it gets quite cold down here, even in the summer," he said. I tried to contain a laugh.
"I'm alright Alfred, but thank you," I smiled. He raised his eyebrows doubtfully and moved away as Bruce stood in front of his monitors.
"Okay," Bruce said aloud as my eyes scanned the monitors. A picture of Two Face, a newspaper heading about Black Mask, a marked map of Old Gotham, paperwork with redacted lines, and a mug shot of a young dark skinned man with scales plagued the screens. "Here's what's on our docket these days." I leaned forward in my chair, already regretting turning down the hot tea. It was chilly in here.
"First we've got Waylon Jones," he said, pointing to the mug shot. "Popularly characterized on Vicki Vale's show as Killer Croc. Genetically mutated… this mug shot was taken approximately ten years ago. Now," he leaned over his keyboard and tapped a key, updating the mug shot. The man had been transformed into a veritable crocodile, walking on its hind legs. "His body has been consumed by the mutation. He's enormous and dangerous, and loose. He uses Gotham's sewer tunnels to navigate, but there are so many old and new systems interweaving throughout the city it's near impossible to trace him."
"Not impossible," I interrupted, standing and stepping closer to the computer screens. "Just like any other animal, we just need to track him. We can place sensors in the tunnels to anticipate his movements; then, when he triggers them, we'll be able to track his regular movements to find out what he's up to, where he's hiding, and where he's going. Is this map here already tracking his activity?" I asked, indicating the map of Old Gotham.
"No," he said, zooming on the map to focus on the landmarks indicated. "This is a map of sightings reported of masked swordsmen, mostly from forums and social media outlets."
"And we're tracking them because…" I began.
"Because one week ago, a corrupt diplomat from Bangladesh was killed in his sleep. Throat slit, one movement, security didn't get anyone going in or out," he said, crossing his arms as he looked at the map.
"So… ninjas?" I clarified.
"The League of Shadows," he said somberly.
"League… of…"
"I've had run ins with them before. A terrorist sect led by a mystic named Ra's al Ghul, intent on wiping out crime and corruption by wiping out civilization," he explained.
"A sound strategy," Dick's familiar voice rang out through the Bat Cave, and I turned to see him entering from the mansion and hurrying towards us, Alfred shortly behind him with a tray holding mugs. "But a bit problematic. Bruce gets all butt-hurt about it."
"Dick," Bruce tried not to groan as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You tell her about Talia yet?" Dick asked.
"Why are you here?" Bruce asked.
"What, first you didn't want me to leave, now you don't want me to stay," Dick shrugged, smiling playfully at me. But I didn't smile. By default, I was on Bruce's side.
"You left. You went to Bludhaven," Bruce lectured him sternly.
"And you found someone to replace me- I'm just making sure she has all the tools she needs to succeed," he shrugged confidently.
"I'm briefing her. And you're interrupting," Bruce said, turning away from Dick and back to the computer screens.
"I can help," he said, dropping down into the chair I had vacated.
"You can stay quiet, or you can leave," Bruce said over his shoulder. Alfred reached me and held the tray out to me.
"Miss Gordon, I brought some tea for you in case you changed your mind," he said. I smiled warmly and grabbed a mug from the tray.
"Thank you, Alfred," I said quietly, and he smiled warmly back. He then approached Bruce and offered a mug.
"I'm fine Alfred," Bruce waved away the tray.
"Are you sure, sir? It's chamomile, it will help relieve stress," he suggested.
"What does Bruce have to be stressed about?" Dick griped, slinking down into his chair. Bruce gave a knowing look to Alfred and took the mug, taking a sip. Alfred carried the empty tray past Dick and away. "What, none for me?"
"So," I said over Dick, "the League of Shadows. What's the plan?"
"We need to arrange a meeting with their leader. Find out why they're here," he replied.
"Oh, of course. You just want to sit down and chat with her. Anyone else we'd be beating to a pulp, but Talia gets a date for assassinating someone," Dick said, swiveling playfully in his chair.
"Enough," Bruce barked back at him severely. I paused- I knew I didn't have all the information I needed to respond confidently. "You're not needed here."
"Uhhhh, I think I am," Dick sang playfully as he stared at me.
"Two Face," I interrupted again. "What's he up to?" Bruce was slow to answer, obviously frustrated.
"We're not sure yet," he said, raising his mug. "But his thugs have been robbing small shops all over Gotham for weeks. Why he's hitting only small shops seemingly randomly is beyond me; he could go after bigger fish, but he's only fishing in small ponds."
"Maybe intentionally. Trying to rob more places for smaller amounts… stay under GCPD's radar," I suggested.
"Maybe. But he's on ours. He's planning something," he said suspiciously.
"Maybe a big heist is coming up," Dick suggested in a whisper behind us.
"Dick should be focusing on Black Mask," Bruce loudly said, turning to face him as he sipped his tea. "He's migrating out of Gotham mainland towards Old Gotham. Once we dismantle his operation there, he'll be heading for Bludhaven."
"And I'll handle him when he gets there," Dick said, hopping cheerfully out of his seat.
"Optimism isn't a plan," Bruce answered.
"I've got bigger fish to fry. Fish it looks like you're researching too," he replied, pointing past us to the computer screen with the redacted files. "That's Bludhaven's problem, not yours."
"It's Gotham's problem if you're unable to handle it," Bruce said, reaching over to the keyboard and hitting a button to darken the monitor. "Which, given your plan to deal with Black Mask, isn't an unrealistic concern."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," he sarcastically smiled at Bruce, "but it is why I came by today."
"Need help already?" I asked sarcastically.
"You will," he snapped. "Riddler was working with the Suicide Squad, and now I think he's working with Joker."
"Joker doesn't play well with others," Bruce said, finishing his tea as I took a sip of mine.
"He does when it helps get his work done," Dick answered. "I've found question marks surrounding buildings that hold traces of chemical compounds in dirty bombs. If Riddler is helping Joker manufacture and move bombs, he could be your key to stopping Joker's next attack."
"So find him and end it," Bruce said, putting the mug down by his keyboard and turning away from the screens.
"This isn't just Bludhaven at stake, Bruce," Dick called after him. "It's Gotham, it's Bludhaven… it might be Metropolis, for all I know. It's not just Joker or just Riddler but a pack of them."
"Scared already?" I asked as I raised my mug for another sip.
"Smart. I know a one-man job from a two-man job," Dick said, watching after Bruce.
"Find something more concrete and we'll put it on the docket," Bruce said and switched off all the monitors. "Until then, get ready for Black Mask."
"I'm sorry, can someone cover what the Suicide Squad is?" I asked, raising a hand.
"When it's relevant," Bruce said, turning to me. "Log some hours on the AR, I want to see more advancement from you…"
"Bruce, she should be briefed on this before it's an issue," Dick insisted.
"Not now. I've got a board meeting," he said, hurrying out of the Bat Cave towards the mansion. Alfred eyed Dick with a cautioning gaze, then followed Bruce out. I turned back to Dick and he stared at me with a playful smile.
"Well... now that we're all alone..." he teased. I held my tea mug in my hands and sat down in the office chair.
"Tell me about the Suicide Squad," I said, holding the mug close to my lips. He stepped closer, brushing some of his hair away from his face.
"You sure you don't want to hear a more fun story?" he smiled down at me.
"You want us to help you or what?" I asked.
"You and Bruce are an 'us' now, huh?" he laughed under his breath.
"That's kinda the deal," I smiled back as I sipped my tea. He shook his head and stepped away, wiping his lips.
"The Suicide Squad was an irrational project launched by some feds trying to exploit the abilities of super criminals," Dick explained. "It's failed once, twice, three times… but they keep trying to bring it back. And somehow they've managed to recruit Riddler, maybe Joker now too."
"Who all are we talking about?" I asked.
"Last I heard the roster, King Shark, Captain Boomerang, and Deadshot were all involved. Deadshot's been stuck in it since the beginning," Dick said, crossing his arms seriously.
"Stuck in it? What, like he wants out?" I clarified.
"They've all wanted out, always. But the squad is either their ticket out of a jail cell or a government sanctioned way to continue business as usual," he explained. "Deadshot's been given so many assassination targets through them, it's insane."
"Why haven't we dismantled the program?" I asked over my mug.
"It keeps jumping departments," he explained. "We get on Homeland's case about it, it jumps to CIA. From CIA, it jumps to FBI, then to Department of Interior… government can't keep track of its own programs, so no one notices."
"Where's their base of operations?" I asked.
"Mobile. They split the group up and force reunions when there's work to be done," he explained. We quieted a moment, and I pulled my legs up onto the seat in front of me.
"It's nice… talking to each other as colleagues," I said, taking a sip of my tea.
"We talk all the time," he grimaced at me.
"Not like this," I shook my head. "Usually it's… you know…"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling my cheeks turn red as I called attention to our attraction. "It's nice to work together."
"Well," he said smoothly as he sidled closer, "we can work together more often, if you'd like…"
"And there it is," I said, getting up from the chair.
"What?" he jokingly laughed, knowing fully well what he'd done. "I meant on the Suicide Squad case. Oh, did you think I meant… oh, Barbara, shame on you."
"Ha ha," I said slowly, putting down my mug. "Play time's over, I've got work to do."
"You training?" he asked as I walked towards the AR chamber.
"Yup. Trying to get in three hours a day," I answered.
"Want some help?" he offered. I turned around hesitantly, apprehensive he'd just turn it into an excuse to get his hands on me. "Come on, those virtual reality fighters get so predictable. I'll keep you on your toes. Or your back, if you want."
"And there it is again," I laughed and turned away.
"Come on, I'll help, I promise," he chased after me.
"For every innuendo, I get one hit in for free," I said as I led him to the chamber.
"In your end-o," Dick mumbled under his breath.
"And there's my first one," I said, turning on the lights.
"You don't seriously want us to be all business all the time, right?" Dick asked as he shirked off his leather coat and threw it in a corner. I shrugged.
"I don't think it'd kill you to treat me a bit more like a coworker. I have a hard time thinking you hit on Bruce as much as me," I said.
"Well," Dick answered, standing close, "he's not as cute as you." I smiled, reached up, and slapped him across the face. He looked down at me, bewildered.
"That was my one free hit," I smiled.
"Hm," he responded, and reached for my shoulders to begin a sparring match.