I've been spoiled with some additional free time for writing this month, but heads up: that's all going away! I'm going to be super busy until the end of the month, but I'm hopeful I'll have another chapter up around New Years. Happy holidays all :)
I dressed in black blouse, grey sweater, and grey skirt: not exactly the sexiest outfit for my first day at Wayne Tech, but I never was that fashionable. In my plain clothes and black ballet flats, I arrived in the lobby of Wayne Tech. The lobby of the building was bigger than my entire apartment building; its lightly green tinted windows kept the sunlight from blinding the poor receptionist stuck at the desk all day. She'd called Lucius Fox's assistant, who had sent another assistant to fetch me. Despite knowing I had the job in the bag, and that Lucius couldn't fire me without Bruce's approval, I still felt nervous. I'd never had a job like this. I was beginning to miss the library and the familiar stink of Phyllis' perfume.
"Miss Gordon?" a man in a suit asked me as he approached from the elevators. I smiled and hurried over to him. He waved me along and didn't stop to shake my hand. "This way. Mr. Fox is waiting for you." The man hurried me into an elevator at the end of the row and, to my surprise, hit the button to be taken to level B6; six floors underground. The elevator, empty except for the two of us, descended and let us off on a slightly chilly level. While there were crates and shelves full of what looked like various equipment, there were no offices on this level; there were no people to speak of whatsoever. I looked around curiously, half prepared for Killer Croc to ambush me at this depth below the city.
"Miss Gordon," a low, friendly voice greeted me. Approaching from the depths of shelving, a tall man with a slightly paunchy stomach and studious eyes smiled at me. "So glad you found us." The assistant that had delivered me perked up and stood erect with a professional tone.
"Do you need anything else, Mr. Fox?" he asked eagerly.
"No, no. Thank you Matthew," he said with a smile. The assistant scurried away and boarded an elevator, and he was gone. "Now," he grinned at me, "the real work can begin." He led me through the shelves, his hands behind his back. "My apologies for the slightly solitary working space. But I figured you wouldn't want coworkers occasionally watching you over your shoulder."
"What is this place?" I asked as I gazed up at the shelves. I couldn't tell what everything was at a glance, but the words 'beta test,' 'prototype,' and 'augmented reality' jumped off of labels. "Is this a product development division?"
"Something like it," Mr. Fox answered. "Wayne Tech has a great deal of clients, from universities to cutting edge laboratories to the U.S. government. We try to stay ahead of the curve and develop anticipatory products. Many never see the light of day. Though some," he paused and looked at me with telling eyes, "manage to see the edges of night." I smiled knowingly; I wasn't going to need to lie to him at all, would I? He kept walking forward and turned a corner suddenly into an office, roughly the size of my bedroom. "Apologies for the cramped quarters," he said, and I might have laughed at the remark. Clearly, Mr. Fox had enjoyed more than a librarian's salary for some time. "But you should have everything you need."
I had more than I needed. A super-computer had been hooked up to four monitors, all adjustable, to create a magnificent dashboard for me to play on. There were other pieces of equipment also hooked to the computers, including a centrifuge, a holographic emitter, and a 3-D scanner. "This is all for me?" I asked as I dropped my purse on the desk, feeling like a child at Disney World. I turned back to face him and he smiled.
"Mr. Wayne asked that I make sure you have everything you need to do your job well." He shrugged his arms wide, gesturing to the office. "Is there anything else you need?" I scanned the room again, almost laughing that I was offered so much luxury.
"An electric kettle and some tea bags would be nice."
With a hot cup of tea in front of me and my blue light glasses on the tip of my nose, I got to work. Over the next four days, I would enter the building, swipe my security key card, descend into my quiet basement, and blast nineties alternative rock while curating our case files. I would have stayed until midnight, had my dad not relentlessly called and texted me to come home. But I finally had all the access, speed, and data to run amuck. I felt unchained, untethered, free to explore in a way I rarely had before.
When I left the office on Tuesday, I noticed Dick had messaged me: you ready for those answers yet? I smiled down at the text and ensured that Dick would see that I'd read it, but I didn't reply. I did want those answers, but I didn't need him to get them. By the end of the day on Wednesday, I was done doing work on the cases. I moved on to some background work. I started to dig up files on everything else I felt out of the loop on: The Suicide Squad; The League of Shadows; Jason. When I couldn't find the answers I wanted, I resisted the urge to grab my phone and call Dick. Instead, I just made a note of my dead ends and kept pressing forward.
On Friday, Bruce invited me over after my shift at the library to see what I had managed to work up on the cases. I saved my files to his network and had everything ready for a masterful, stunning presentation. Perhaps I felt like I needed to prove my worth when fighting; but with data and informatics, I could just put on a show and let him marvel.
"Where would you like to start?" I asked, excited to get going.
"Let's revisit the briefing last week. What have you found on Killer Croc?" Bruce asked, one hand holding a blended green drink and the other in his suit pocket.
"So glad you asked," I said, tapping a few keys and pulling up the complex file on Killer Croc. Along with his dossier and crime history, the map I made appeared on screen. "I combined the schematics, subway maps, and sewer lines to create a labyrinthine map of where Waylon could be hiding. I was able to tap into Bat Computer data to see which beacons had been triggered and which hadn't, and they indicated that he is probably utilizing the spaces below the sewers to travel. But I was able to eliminate some of his possible routes, judging by activity levels on subway lines and the deteriorated quality of some of the city's more decrepit bowels. It makes our guessing game easier, so we have less chance of stumbling onto Croc and more of a chance at locating him intentionally." When I finished my spiel, I looked up at Bruce to see him nodding and studying the map carefully.
"Where does this tunnel lead to?" he asked, pointing down a route that I too had deemed likely.
"It's a long way, but it eventually leads under the bay to the lower west side of Old Gotham," I said.
"Cobblepot," Bruce grumbled. "That's Penguin's territory. What could Killer Croc want with Penguin?"
"That's assuming he's going that far. If he's staying near enough to Central Gotham to disturb our beacons on a regular basis, it's unlikely he'd be going all the way to Old Gotham through the tunnels regularly. It's miles away, even underground," I explained.
"Then where is he heading?" Bruce asked impatiently.
"I think you were right before: we'll need to place more beacons to find out," I answered. He didn't seem satisfied with my answer.
"What else do you have?" he asked as he raised his glass. I minimized the Croc case file and clicked onto the next: Two Face.
"I used your pre-existing map, which pinpointed all the robberies across Central Gotham, and looked for patterns. What I found was this," I said, clicking the space bar to show the dashed lines back to corresponding banks around the city. "Each of these small stores was opened using a bank loan from different branches of Bank of Gotham. The strange thing is the same loan officer is on the paperwork for each of these branches: Jack White."
"Joker," Bruce said. "It's one of his favorite aliases." I nodded; I'd already figured that out, but I was happy to let him join in the discussion.
"My theory is that Joker went sour on a deal, and Two Face and his men are getting their money back from the store owners," I said. "I've found a few more stores with Jack White as the loan officer. They'll be Two Face's next targets."
"Good work," he said, clearly happy to have solved the case even if we still had work to do to stop the robberies. I smiled cutely and minimized the tab, moving on to the next file.
"Now things get a little murkier," I said as I opened the large file containing dossiers on The Suicide Squad, Riddler, and Joker. "The redacted case file you were going to show me in the briefing last week is generally relating to what Dick told me, and does indicate that Riddler was recruited to join The Suicide Squad. But it's less clear why. I'm wondering if he might have been recruited for the purpose of helping Joker… maybe Suicide Squad is trying to lure Joker into trusting them so they can kill him Julius Caesar-style, but it doesn't seem like Nygma's style to do other people's dirty work."
"It's not," Bruce agreed, "unless he's persuaded it's his idea."
"Sounds complicated," I suggested.
"He's a megalomaniac narcissist. He believes all the best ideas are his," Bruce assured me. I nodded. "But this is Bludhaven's problem for now. Keep a pulse on it and make sure nothing finds it's way into Gotham." I couldn't help but smile to myself; I could feel Bruce learning he could trust me. It felt good.
"Next up," I smiled as I switched tabs, "is Black Mask. As you said, he is mainly operating out of Old Gotham now, but he does still seem to have some activity moving around Port Adams. I'm wondering if he's still shipping in product in that way."
"Not unlikely. So many shipping containers just get lost in the stacks; I wouldn't be surprised if an operation was hiding in one," Bruce nodded with arms crossed over his chest.
"Time for a little recon?" I suggested. He silently agreed. I minimized the file and pulled up the last open file I had. "Last and, unfortunately, least… the League of Shadows." I spun around in the chair and faced Bruce directly. "I've got nothing, because these files were restricted access."
"And you didn't try hacking them?" Bruce asked skeptically.
"I was trying to be respectful," I grimaced at him. He looked down at the keyboard in thought. "What I can't figure out is why you'd give me full access to case files on everything else, give me the blueprints to all your gadgetry, expose your identity, as well as Alfred's and Dick's, but somehow… this information is more important?" He didn't answer. He didn't look up from the keyboard. "Who's Talia?" I asked. At this, his eyes met mine. I had remembered her name from when Bruce was briefing me and Dick intervened, saying that she was privileged by Bruce; that if it were anyone else, he'd respond to these assassinations with brutal force while she got a date. Bruce broke eye contact and turned away from me, stepping back from the monitor. "Did you two date?" He shook his head and looked up at the Batwing, dangling in the corner of the room. I was beginning to get frustrated, so I stood up and decided to be plain. "I also tried to research whoever Jason is," I confessed. His shoulders tensed at this, and I wondered if I was crossing a line. "I couldn't find anything… nothing solid, anyways. But the way Alfred spoke about him… are you training him, too?" Bruce slowly turned back to face me. His jaw clenched and I could see he was frustrated. "I want to help, Bruce. But trust is a two-way street."
He was silent a long moment; one that probably lasted only a few seconds but dragged on for what felt like hours. I wondered if I would actually be fired. He turned away abruptly and began walking towards the elevator back to the mansion. "League of Shadows isn't in your case load. You'll be briefed on it if or when I need your help." He kept walking forward in silence, like that was all he had to say.
"And Jason?" I called after him. He didn't answer. He disappeared into the hall and that was it. I felt a flame ignite in me; all my work, and he couldn't give me two damned answers? I hand him his next steps and I get nothing in returns. I wanted to scream; all my time searching and trying to learn, trying to prove Dick wrong, and Bruce shut me down instantly. My stomach dropped as I realized that was perhaps the most frustrating part: I had wanted to find these answers on my own, not by asking Dick for his help. Now, my impatience was getting the better of me. It was only 7:30 now. I could meet Dick somewhere and get my answers before being back in Bat-clothes tonight.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the messages app to see the long string of unanswered messages from Dick.
You ready for those answers yet?, sent Tuesday at 4:32 pm.
He's not taking you out tonight, is he? and You can party with me if you want, sent Wednesday evening.
Come on, don't be stubborn, sent Thursday at 9:07 pm.
I'll be at Good Good's till 9, if you're ready, sent today at 6:04 pm.
I could go now and find him, sit with him at the bar and get answers to my burning questions that Bruce refused to answer. I could.
But the more I thought about it, the more I remembered how bad of an idea it would be. He wouldn't give me the answers I wanted so easily; no, knowing Dick, he would make me beg for them. He'd taunt me with the information I wanted; maybe he wouldn't even give me what I wanted at all. And he would definitely distract me; I was doing so well ignoring him. And maybe Bruce was just testing me, trying to see if I'd be able to wait.
It was the right call. As frustrating as it was, I needed to wait for Bruce to open up to me. And I needed to stay firm in my position against Dick; if I dropped my professional insistence and let my guard down around him, I'd be in trouble. He'd be sure to take advantage of me… and I'd be sure to let him.
Yet, as sound as my decision was, I wasn't happy about it. The sun had already begun to go down, so I changed into my Batgirl uniform, left a note on the keyboard, and revved Robin's old motorcycle to life. The block bike with dark purple accents was sexy and sleek, nothing like something I'd ride as Barbara Gordon. As I rode down the dirt path out of the Batcave and hit the road, I realized that Batgirl was nothing like Barbara Gordon.
Weaving in and out of cars, I considered just how polite and meek Barbara Gordon was- and how aggressive Batgirl was. How demure and plain Barbara Gordon was, and how sexy and jaw-dropping Batgirl was. Batgirl was my alter-ego, my second face, and while I genuinely didn't want to be the things Batgirl was in my real life, I was exhilarated to put her on and dart through traffic as her. My cape whipping up behind me, some cars honked and others slowed as I weaved around them; I heard one child yell from a car as I passed it, "it's Batman!" And I smiled to myself. No kid- I'm something else entirely.
I left the bike in an alley and began hopping rooftops until I came to the roof at the edge of Founder's Island, overlooking the Oblivion Bar. I hadn't come to scope the place out, and I wasn't really here to get a jump on crime-fighting for the night. I'd come because, despite knowing better, I was disappointed that I didn't have an excuse to see Dick tonight. And for some stupid reason, that bar with the dirty cops and the buzzing neon green lights reminded me of him. So I stood there, looking down at the bar as night fell over the city, feeling the wind in my hair as it tumbled out of my cowl and in my cape at my back.
I pictured Dick, sitting alone at the bar at Good Good's amidst a crowd of Bludhaven drunks and corrupt cops. Waiting for me. Staring at his phone, at the small script below his last message to me acknowledging that I had read the text, that I'd thought about his invitation. Looking at his watch and realizing it was almost 9, and I hadn't shown up. I felt disappointed in myself, on his behalf. But why? It's not like we were dating, or I'd led him on, or promised him any allegiance. If anything, I'd done the opposite and made it very clear I couldn't have a romantic relationship with him. So why did I feel like I'd stood him up?
The soft patter of feet on the rooftop behind me stirred my attention, and I turned to see Batman approaching me. It wasn't until after I saw him that I'd realized I'd gotten excited at the hope that it was Nightwing; when it was Batman, I felt disappointment resonate through me, and embarrassment at that disappointment.
"You got my note," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. He stepped up to my side and looked across the bay at the bar.
"Is Nightwing at The Oblivion?" he asked, looking down at me. I shook my head.
"He's at a bar in Bludhaven. Not as Nightwing," I answered, looking back at the bar across the water. I could feel his eyes study me a moment before turning away again.
"Good," he said, and it sounded genuine. "Let's get to work."
We spent the night in a busy haze: we planted more beacons in the sewers and underground tunnels to track Waylon Jones' movements and were lucky enough not to stumble across him. We scoured Port Adams, looking for any signs of Black Mask's operations but were unlucky to find anything on the Friday night. As we were leaving the port, I noticed some thugs on the sidewalk by the old orphanage starting to shove each other in the beginnings of a brawl. I looked to Batman and, as soon as he gave the nod of permission, we swung into action. Batman swung down into the pack of eight thugs first, kicking the two men apart that were championing the fight. The remaining six were clearly intimidated, but indulged in the fantasy that they outnumbered him and could thus beat him. As soon as they started to swarm him, I took the opportunity to drop down by my Bat-gun and perform an inverted takedown on one. As he dangled from the cable by his ankle, the remaining five on the ground looked up to see me gliding down towards them with a high kick at the ready. They were all so stunned to have two bat-nemeses that we swiftly took the group down in a matter of seconds. Within a minute, the group was dispatched and we zipped off the scene. I smiled proudly as we hurried away through Bristol, looking for the next challenge of the night.
At the end of the evening, around 2:30 am, we arrived back at the Batcave and I parked my motorcycle in it's particular corner. I removed my cowl as Batman got out of his car and headed to the monitors. "Alfred," Batman asked through his comms unit, "give me a breakdown of Nightwing's whereabouts tonight."
"Are you sure, sir? Check-ins like this are part of the reason he left," Alfred answered through a speaker unit in the keyboard. I didn't say anything aloud, but I hid a smile as I came to understand why Dick left; someone got tired of feeling babysat. I couldn't say I blamed him.
"I'm not checking in. Give me the breakdown," Batman insisted.
"Nightwing didn't put on his suit until 10 pm tonight. He spent most of his evening in Bludhaven, though it appears he did come to Gotham for a brief period around 1 am, making a stop in Chinatown," Alfred answered.
"The Oblivion Bar," I suggested. Batman turned away from the keyboard and looked at me. I felt a little self-conscious. With my cowl off, I felt like I was two different people at once: half Batgirl and half Barbara. But even worse, I could feel my red hair caked to the sides of my face with sweat, and I was sure my hair was a tangled, ratty mess.
"You've done well tonight, Barbara," he said to my surprise. I tried to contain my excitement at this review and only smiled lightly. "You should go up to the library and take a shower… head to the kitchen after and get some food."
"I'm alright," I tried to shrug away the offer; I could shower and eat at home.
"I insist," he said forcefully, turning back the keyboard. I might have made a joke (What? Do I smell that bad?), had he not said it with such intensity. But as he did, I followed directions. Once in the library bathroom, I stripped out of my suit and left it for Alfred to clean. I took a cool shower, a welcome delight after such a hot and sweaty evening, and changed into the leggings and white cotton tee I'd brought with me. Once out of the bathroom, I left the library and realized: I didn't know my way to the kitchen.
From the library, I knew how to get back to the front doors of the mansion and into the Batcave. That was it. But it was a kitchen… it couldn't be that hard to find, right?
I crept through the halls quietly, as if I might wake the portraits of rich Wayne ancestors. Eventually, after winding my way past the front doors and towards a formal dining room, I heard the soft clinking of a plate. I smiled with relief, knowing it must be Alfred. I followed the sound until I found a room spilling bright light into the hallway. I rounded the corner to see a room of rich, dark wooden cabinets and white marbled counter-tops, and a man standing over the sink- a man that was not Alfred.
He was young- maybe twenty years old, but that felt like a generous appraisal. He was incredibly muscular with mussed black hair and a gaunt face that suggested an impossibly high metabolism. He wore light grey cotton sweatpants and a red tee shirt, and held a half-consumed sandwich as he chewed a mouthful of the food.
As I took him in, I realized I probably looked crazy. I was frozen in the doorway, staring at him eat. I forced a quick smile and raised my hand in a friendly, innocent gesture. "Hi," I spat out, "sorry, I…thought you were Alfred." He shrugged back at me.
"He made a sandwich for you too, I think," he said, throwing a quick glance towards a counter in the corner of the room. I stepped further into the room to see a plate on the counter with a neatly arranged, pre-cut sandwich. I inched closer to it, but was infinitely more curious about him than the food.
"Thanks," I said. "I don't think we've met yet. I'm…"
"Barbara Gordon. I know," he said with a mouth half full of food. "And I think you should've picked a different name. Dick picked Batgirl just to mess with you, you know." I half-smiled and let out half of a laugh.
"Well… joke or not, it does sound better than Bat-woman," I shrugged and picked up the sandwich, leaning against the counter and staring at him. "And you're… Jason, right?"
"Yeah," he said, looking at me skeptically though without stopping eating. "He told you about me?"
"Not really, no," I said, shaking my head. "I think he was hoping we'd run into each other."
"That's not how he works. We ran into each other because he wanted us to," he said, taking another large bite of his sandwich. I nodded with a smile.
"Sounds about right," I said as I took a bite of my sandwich that was about a third of the size of one of his bites. "So what are you doing up at 3 am?"
"I was never really good at going to bed on time," he answered disinterestedly. He finished his sandwich and put the plate in the sink. "I gotta finish some homework. Later, Batgirl," he said with a curt wave, and he disappeared from the room. I wanted to stop him, to chase after him with questions, but I knew he wouldn't answer them. Hell, he'd probably learned how to be an enigma from Batman… his father? His mentor? I felt like I knew who Jason was now, but I still had no idea who he was. I carried my plate with my sandwich back to the library and down into the Batcave, where I found Bruce sitting in sweatpants and a tee shirt and looking at the monitors. As I came in, he noticed the plate in my hand.
"Did that help?" he asked. He might have meant the sandwich, but I knew he meant the meeting.
"I could still use some answers," I said, offering him the other half of the sandwich that Alfred had left for me. He didn't take it, but instead let his eyes fall still on the screens in front of him.
"Two and a half years ago, I found Joker. I was angry, exhausted, emotional… and Joker got the better of me. I blacked out right as Joker was aiming a machine gun at me. When I woke up, this… kid… was standing beside Joker, holding my grapnel gun to his temple. At only fifteen years old, he had managed to save me, fight back Joker, and get him in a position to kill him. I stopped him, of course. And the kid had just robbed a store, so I had him arrested. But through some Wayne Industries projects and hard work, his sentence was reduced.
"He was an orphan… raised on the streets by addicts and mob bosses. He's angry, and he's clever, and a remarkable fighter. I took him in as my ward years ago. Showed him what he can do with his gifts," Bruce explained.
"Why?" I softly asked, hoping I wasn't interrupting the story but curious to know.
"Because there was a time when I was an orphan and angry. And his path might have been mine," he looked up at me somberly. I could see the sense of duty in his eyes, but more importantly I could hear the loving tone of voice he used when he spoke about Jason. Jason was not his son… but he may as well have been.
"You are training him to be the next Robin," I wondered aloud. He nodded slowly.
"I wasn't always," he answered, "but when Dick left, I decided it would happen. But not until he's done with school. He turns 18 on August 16th. If all goes well, we can take him out together for his birthday."
"Together?" I asked, my spirits lifting at the thought. Bruce smiled ahead of him as he considered the idea.
"You should get home," Bruce said with a nod. "I've got to help on some math homework, then we should all get some sleep."