Dick didn't continue to text me the next day. Maybe he'd had too much wine the previous night with Amy, lowering his inhibitions and enabling him to panic text me till 4am. Maybe his date didn't go as well as he'd hoped. But more importantly, none of it mattered. I didn't reach back out to him, either out of embarrassment or spite, and he didn't reach back out to me. So silence filled the space between us.
I'd called the library and quit, saying I just didn't have the bandwidth anymore. My boss understood, said he thought this would happen soon anyways. He promised he'd write a good recommendation if I ever needed it and told me to pick up my final paycheck the following Sunday.
I spent my days trying to focus on making a good routine. It seemed much easier, when I wasn't worried about my interactions with Dick. I'd wake with the sunrise, hit the gym, head to work at Wayne Tech. I'd finish with work by 3:00, and head directly to the dojo on Bleake Island where my former teacher would let Jason and I spar for an hour before he went home. Then I'd head home myself, take a power nap, and throw together a healthy dinner. Just as my dad would be getting home, I'd tell him I was heading back out for another session at the gym- "don't wait up." I'd get to the mansion around 8pm, just in time to talk strategy with Bruce before the sun went down. And we got down to business.
Bruce was out intimidating suppliers, questioning them about Black Mask. I was on the lookout for Two-Face's men and keeping tabs on my Crocodile trackers in the sewers, just in case anything required immediate attention.
The occasional mugging or gang confrontation would draw me out of hiding, always for less than a minute at a time- just long enough for me to break it up and retreat to my perch.
Dick didn't come looking for me. He didn't seek me out, didn't call, didn't text. And I stayed focused on the tasks at hand. I didn't break the silence.
The search that Bruce and I ran on Arkham Asylum staff didn't yield any immediately promising results. A janitor that had previously worked at Blackgate. A guard with a clear alcohol and gambling problem. A few cooks with gambling problems, though none waved red flags. A new psych intern who had previously been in residence at Blackgate. A guard who had been accused of sexual assault, though the case had been dropped.
Jesus, how were any of these people allowed to work in an asylum?
"Start opening more detailed files on the cooks within the gambling ring," Bruce suggested on Saturday night as we suited up for our evening out. I put it on my to-do list. "Then the guard with the drinking problem, and the janitor that worked at Blackgate."
"Sounds good," I said, tossing my hair away from me. I had gotten into my suit before him, and sat in the chair in my black and yellow suit with everything on but my cowl. "What are you thinking for tonight?" I asked.
"I'm thinking I'm tired of waiting for answers on the Black Mask case," he said, placing the gadgets on his belt. "I think it's time we paid Simpson and Neill visits." I spun around in the chair to face him.
"You sure?" I asked. "It may blow my cover."
"Not if they're too afraid to say anything," Bruce smiled to himself. I couldn't help but smile a little back.
We would start with Simpson. He was more pliable, more likely to talk. Maybe he could give us leverage over Neill.
Andre Simpson looked intimidating, but was surprisingly normal. He had custody of his daughter every other weekend. They went to the same Applebee's every Friday night and got mozzarella sticks. They watched cartoons until she fell asleep on the couch, and then he'd change the channel to sports. Then he'd put her to bed, clean up the apartment, and get ready for the next day.
So tonight, we perched on opposing rooftops and watched him cleaning his apartment as his daughter slept in the next room. She had spilled her cup of juice, which left him wiping up the counter with wads of paper towels. He'd have to take the trash out tonight.
Batman would take the lead, but he wanted me to swoop in as the catalyst. I thought it was a smart plan. A female touch might be just what he needed.
As predicted, Simpson stepped onto his porch and quietly closed the door behind him to keep from disturbing his daughter. He rushed down the stairs and behind the building to the dumpster. That's when Batman dropped down and landed softly behind him. When Simpson turned around, Batman slammed him back against the dumpster. I listened closely.
"What's Black Mask doing with the drugs?" Batman growled out.
"Fuck you, get off me!" Simpson yelled in a struggle. Batman tripped him and he flattened on the ground, Batman kneeling over him as he held him by his shirt.
"I'm only asking once," Batman threatened.
"Fuck you!" he yelled again. Batman stood and took a step back, and that was my cue. As Simpson began to sit up, I jumped off the rooftop and glided down towards him, my foot pointed to strike. By the time he saw me, it was too late. My foot landed squarely on his chest, knocking him flat to the ground again. He looked up at me in stunned surprise, then past me at Batman, then back at me. "Fuck…"
"The drugs," I said again. "Last chance." He stared back at me, this time a bit more fearful. I wasn't sure if he was truly afraid of me, or just afraid that he was seeing two Bat-men. I increased the pressure on his chest as I leaned forward, capturing his attention again. "Your daughter needs you," I said, and that really got his attention. He stared back at me, unsure whether he felt threatened or calmed. "And Black Mask does not care about protecting you. You're going to protect him?" Simpson's lips tightened and his head lifted off the ground, then dropped back again as he debated internally, then raised again.
"I don't know shit about the drugs," he spat the words up at me and paused a long moment, "but I can tell you about the money." Simpson revealed that Black Mask was indeed still trying to shut down his operation in Gotham, but he was beholden to Penguin for one final transaction: laundering counterfeit bills. Black Mask laundered the money, he could keep 15%; he didn't launder it, Penguin would order attacks on his men. "But I ain't got no part in the drugs. I did my part and laundered a little bit… we could only use it at places that wouldn't recognize the bills. The drugs must be something the boys up top are doin."
"Boys like Alexander Neill?" I asked in a low voice. Simpson's mouth opened and closed like a fish, and he struggled to find words.
"Neill's close to the Mask. I don't know what the hell he does," he shook his head.
"Do you know where he is tonight?" Batman asked over my shoulder. Simpson hesitated to answer, his eyes darting between Batman and me.
"I'd answer," I recommended. He still hesitated.
"He… the boys… they always go out on Saturdays. Probably in old Gotham. Either at Black Canary Club or Olympus. Maybe the strip club below Olympus," he suggested. Very detailed. I was proud of Simpson. I nodded back at Batman in agreement- Simpson had been useful.
Turning back to Simpson, I pulled a smoke grenade out of my pocket and pulled the pin. "You've been very helpful, Andre. Stay out of Black Mask's trade, for your daughter's sake." I dropped the grenade in the dumpster and it popped to life with a loud rattling against the metal of the dumpster that pinched Simpson's eyes closed in terror. We used the opportunity to grapple out of the alley. By the time Simpson had his eyes open again, he was frantically looking around to see where we'd gone. Unable to locate us, he sprinted back up to his apartment and slammed the door behind him.
I watched through the window as he ran into his daughter's bedroom, who had been woken by the loud door slam. He fell to his knees beside her bed and grabbed her, holding her close. I could see him crying from the rooftop across from him. He nuzzled into his daughter's shoulder and stroked her hair. It made me smile.
"Let's go," Batman ordered from behind me. I followed dutifully.
We split up to find Neill faster. He went to Olympus, casing both it and the strip club at once. I made my way to Miagini Island, and the Black Canary Club. The club served many purposes: it was a club, casino, restaurant, jazz lounge, and burlesque theatre. It was a popular stop, and it resided on one of the most trafficked squares of all Gotham. Which meant casing the joint, and/or interrogating Neill outside of it, would be a difficult task.
I perched above the square much of the night, but never spotted Neill. Well, I never thought I did, at least. Even well into the night, there was commotion and excitement on the square. The club was situated next to the ORB Theatre, where a duo of 90s boy bands was having a reunion concert. After the concert ended, police blocked the roads leading into the square and the entire block turned into a party area. Looking for Neill in this mess was more difficult than a game of Where's Waldo.
"Any progress on your end?" I asked my comms link.
"No sign of Neill," Batman answered, "but I may have something better. Sionis is here at Olympus." My eyebrows raised in excitement.
"That's much better," I said, wondering why I was even waiting for Neill if we had Sionis.
"But he's under heavy guard," Batman said. "Multiple body men on the terrace of the club, several armed guards throughout the club… and he's well protected. Looks like some are making transactions tonight… I've seen a few discreet trades of cash for film cannisters and pill bottles."
"Always on the clock," I observed. "Grand Avenue is a bust tonight, there's a party on the square. Too many people to do anything productive. Police have it as under control as it's going to be."
"Head towards Two Face's bodegas, make sure they're safe. If the police have extra coverage there, that means they'll have taken their eyes off smaller neighborhoods," Batman recommended.
"Sure… want me to head to you afterwards?" I asked.
"No," he answered, "there's no way we're taking him down tonight. But I am ID-ing his suppliers as I see transactions- we should have plenty more information on people to interrogate and investigate." I nodded and hurried away from Grand Avenue towards the small bodegas. Bianchi's was safe, untouched. But when I arrived on Founder's Island, I could tell before arrival that I had a situation on my hands. Alarms blared from the store. Once on the rooftop across the street, I could see the door had been shot in order to break the glass. The men were moving fast and carefully: two on the sidewalk with shotguns, one in the van tapping nervously on the steering wheel, one in the shop holding the cashier at gun point, and one stuffing bills hurriedly into a canvas bag.
Five men, at least three armed and all on the lookout. Looking for me. I'd want gadgets for this one.
I decided to create the element of surprise. I took out a remote controlled batarang and flew it carefully over the heads of the guards, through the shattered glass, and to the back of the bodega. It crashed against the door leading to the back of the shop, and the four men in the store and on the sidewalk turned to face the noise.
"You said you were fuckin alone!" the man with gun on the cashier yelled. The Nigerian cashier raised his hands innocently and nodded.
"I am, I am!" he confirmed. The gunman kept the gun on the cashier's head as the two men on the sidewalk came inside the shop to investigate the back of the shop.
Perfect.
That left me to swoop down and deal with the van driver. No need to do anything complicated. I felt the door handle to ensure it was unlocked and, when it was, I quickly opened the door and smothered the driver as I had at the last bodega. He passed out from lack of oxygen and I left his body on the ground beside the van. I sprayed a quick shot of explosive gel on the steering wheel, in case anyone tried to get away. I hurried to the back of the van and looked around the corner. All four men were still nervously investigating the back of the bodega, but the man with the hostage stayed at the front of the shop. I considered my options, knowing I had to keep the hostage safe from an accidental trigger pull. But right now, his finger wasn't on the trigger. A simple takedown was a good takedown.
I aimed a batarang at the man's head and let fly. It struck him where I'd aimed and the man screamed as he impulsively let go of the hostage and fell forward. He dropped the gun in front of him and the hostage sprinted to the back of the store. I cringed. Why did he run towards the bad guys?!
"What was that?" one of the men in the store yelled. I hurried inside and slammed my knee down on the back of the man's head, ensuring he wouldn't get back up. I stayed low and crept down the aisle closest to the wall, hearing footsteps in the other two aisles. "Shit, Bennie… someone's here!"
"Just let's go, let's go!" one of the men yelled.
"No, we stay and we take care of it!" another shouted back. Ha. Bold of you to assume you can, sir.
I hurried to the end of the aisle and into the back room, looking for the hostage. He wasn't in the back of the store… where had he gone? As I stepped through the back room, my cape accidentally draped over a box of chips and knocked it over.
"What was that?"
"Leave it! Let's go!"
"Calm down, chicken shit… I bet we fucked something up when we were back there, that's all…" I switched on my detective mode and saw that one of the armed men was stepping carefully towards the back room. I crouched down beside a shelf and stayed low. As he entered the room, he didn't see me, but he did see the knocked over box. He smiled down at it, approached, and kicked it.
"It's nothin," he shouted to the other two, and turned his back to return to them. That's when I jumped out and grabbed around his neck and mouth, pulling him down with a twist of his back. Just out of sight from the men in the shop, he collapsed in a breathless slumber.
"Fuck this, I'm outta here…"
"You leave and I'm tellin Two-Face you're the one that lost him his score!" the other threatened. I darted back into the front of the store.
"Nah, I'm done, I'm gone!" the first one shouted back, and I could hear the crushed glass as he hurried out of the store and towards the van. I heard a groan, but he must not have cared to alert anyone else to the passed out man beside the van. I heard the door close and the keys turn in the ignition. Poor choice, buddy.
I detonated the explosive gel and the van endured a series of blasts: one from the explosive gel, another from the steering column shattering, and another from the airbags bursting.
"What the fuck did you do?!" I heard the remaining man shout. He had turned his back to me to look at the van, and I realized he had retaken the hostage. Well, now was as good a time as any to take him back. I sprang out of my hiding spot and at the man, pulling his gun and neck back from the hostage. The Nigerian cashier ran out the proper escape this time, and I could focus on disarming the man. I let go of the man's neck and immediately brought the elbow down to break his arm, forcing him to drop his gun. I was beginning to hear sirens in the distance.
"It's you, idn't it?" the man groaned out as I knocked him to the ground and raised my fist to knock him out. "Batman's girlfriend…"
"I'm not his girlfriend, dumbass," I said, pulling his collar to lift his face closer to mine.
"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he smiled back at me. "Two Face has the word out for you. He wants to get know you a little better." I smiled back.
"Let him try," I answered. I slammed his head back against the tile floor and he shut up. I grappled out of the scene quickly, ensuring I was out of sight before cops swarmed the place.
So, I was on Two Face's hit list. Guess that meant I wasn't doing a great job of laying low.
Once we returned to the Batcave, I recounted the intervention to Bruce. "He'll be planning the final bodega hit very carefully then… he won't be planning on getting his money, he'll be planning to get you."
"Guess he's a bit tense," I acknowledged as I toweled away sweat from my neck.
"We'll want to be very careful… possibly take the fight to him before he can get the jump on us at the final bodega," Bruce thought aloud as he scrolled through Two Face's file on the computer.
"What about Black Mask?" I asked. "Get lots of contacts?"
"Plenty," he answered, pulling up Black Mask's file as I mentioned it. He must have logged names while keeping watch, and now he was running reports on similarities in criminal backgrounds. "We should have plenty to keep us busy the next few days, without hitting the streets." I nodded, partially glad for the break and partially questioning what I would do with a night or two off.
So I headed home. On my way out of the mansion, I saw Jason creeping up the stairs, a bit dusty and worn from a night of work with Dick. He caught sight of me and gave me a wink, then hurried up the stairs to bed. I shook my head at him and hurried home, sneaking silently into the apartment at 3am. I had to pick up my final check at the library in the morning, so I tried to squeeze in a solid eight hours of sleep- more than I had gotten in a long time.
I managed to squeeze in only six, but that was still pretty remarkable- and I woke to the smells of pancakes, so I had no complaints.
"You've been working so hard… I thought you deserved a treat," dad said as he dished me up. He poured two dots of syrup on a large pancake, then one long, curved line: a smiley face.
"You're such a dad," I said, taking my fork and digging in. He smiled back at me as he sipped his coffee, only indulging in a small pancake himself.
"Last day at the library, huh?" he asked, knowing I'd be heading over shortly to get my final check. "How do you feel?"
I shrugged over my pancake as I swallowed a bite. "Fine, I guess. I mean, I really like my new job."
"What do you do there again?" Dad asked.
"Mostly informatics," I said, reciting the spiel I memorized for anytime someone might ask. "I work in product development, gathering informatics on consumer data to individualize the engineering process for client outputs…"
"Got it," my dad waved. I furrowed my brow curiously at him. "I mean, I have no idea what you just said, but," he laughed, and I joined in, "you sound excited about it and that's what matters." I smiled. It was the reaction I was hoping such a response would encourage. "You won't miss it?" he asked more seriously, referring to the library. I shrugged again.
"I guess I will, in a way," I said. "Nothing feels as good as an old book in your hands, but… I am learning so much more here. And I don't have to answer dumb questions about where the bathrooms are or if a book is accessible on someone's Kindle or how much the internet costs." We laughed again together, but I couldn't help but be reminded of my fonder memories at the library.
Helping girl scouts get their badges in library informatics.
Tutoring a homeless man in online job resources, and him returning with a job two weeks later.
The free coffees with Dick.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and took another bite of my pancake. Dad must have sensed it- he always did have a sixth sense for that stuff.
"You're doing great things, bumble bee," he said. I smiled over my pancake and took another bite.
"Thanks dad," I said with a mouth full of bread, and we laughed together. The conversation weighed heavily on me as I got on the train into the city, my Batgirl suit rumpled in my backpack just in case.
No more library for Barbara. No more of being paid to sit at the resources counter, reading whatever books I wanted and using the slow library databases to cyber-stalk my interests. No more of the little leagues- I was in the big leagues now.
I felt sort of nostalgic for it, as I thought about it. I wished I'd taken more time to enjoy the crappy job while I'd had it. After all- there was freedom in it. It was easy. Relaxing, in a way. And if there was one thing I didn't get to do any more, it was relax.
I stepped inside my library and behind the counter, where Phyllis was sleepily manning the resources desk. I stepped into the back room, where Peggy was asleep with a book on her chest. Sunday mornings were always quiet. I reached into the slots on the wall and found the envelope with my name on it. My simple goodbye would be a quiet one. I pulled out a notepad from the desk as I could hear Phyllis talking to a customer, and wrote on the pad:
This job, however boring or quiet it might have been at times, was everything I needed. Thank you, I'll miss you, don't hesitate to reach out. – Barbara
I left it on the desk, cast one last glance at Peggy asleep in her chair, and smiled, leaving the room. When I looked up at the resources desk, I froze.
Dick's eyes met mine. He was wearing a black tee shirt, a dark blue sweater, and jeans. When his eyes met mine, it was with an expression of surprise, uncertainty, and possibly embarrassment. Phyllis had been talking to him. She turned around and looked at me conspiratorially.
"There's our girl," she said with a smile. "We're gonna miss her so much." She held her arms out to me with an insistence to hug. I allowed her to come close and closed my arms around her. "You better say yes this time, honey, think of the night ahead of you." I pulled out of the hug, thinking I looked incredulous but probably looking more baffled.
Whaaaat…
"Bye Phyllis," I said breathily, not sure what else I could possibly say. I stepped around the counter to realize that Dick was holding two coffees. When our eyes met, his look seemed apologetic- pleading, even.
"Take good care of her," Phyllis whispered over the desk to Dick with a wink. I nodded for Dick to follow me outside.
Once in the cool outdoor air, I stopped by the curbside trashcan and turned to face Dick with a forced, uncomfortable smile.
"Hey," I said, thrusting my hands in my jacket pocket.
"Hey," he answered, not quite making eye contact with me yet. He thrust a cup of coffee out to me. "Here," he offered. I wanted to say no, but it had already been bought- I felt bad not accepting it.
"Thank you," I said, slowly accepting the gift. We stood on the curb, uncomfortably shifting in front of each other for a moment.
"So…" we said simultaneously. "You go," we both said simultaneously again. I gestured to him, refusing to say anything further for fear of how uncomfortable it would be if we said the same thing at the same time for a third time.
"Okay," he laughed out uncomfortably. He looked up at met my eyes, though I was reluctant to hold his gaze. "I'm sorry, about what happened the other night." I shook my head.
"Why?" I asked, forcing a casual look of puzzlement. "You're allowed to go on dates," I said.
"Yeah but," he started, taking an urgent step closer to me, "that wasn't… what happened that night was not what I wanted to happen…"
"I saw her," I interrupted him. I'm not sure why I felt like it was important that he know. I guess I was afraid that, if I didn't say it, he'd try to pretend it never happened. "We were still waiting on our ride when she got to your place." He turned away, a redness rising in his neck and over his cheeks. "She's pretty." He looked up at me, then away with a shake of his head.
"It's not what you think, Barb," he said, but I put up a hand.
"It's really none of my business, Dick," I answered shortly. This was growing too personal, too vulnerable. I didn't want him this close. This was all just a distraction.
He stared back at me and nodded, understandingly. "It was a mistake," he said. "I'm not seeing her."
"No, you should," I encouraged him. He tilted his head at me as if to ask if I was really going to be so stubborn. "Really, you should. I may date someone I work with too, so… works out perfectly." He stared at me, and his lips slowly curled into a smile. Then he laughed.
"Okay, really," he said. I raised my eyebrows at him, and his look grew more stern. "Seriously, you're gonna 'date some guy at work?'" he asked sarcastically.
"I was thinking about it, yes," I said again. He shook his head at me, putting a hand on his hip. "What?"
"Can we stop this game for, like, a minute? Can we just come clean?" he asked.
"Come clean? I am clean. Are you not clean?" I asked.
"I'm clean."
"Well I'm clean, too."
"It just feels like you're saying there's this guy at work because I had this girl at work, which…"
"I have a guy at work, Dick, and you should at least pay her the respect of calling her a woman if you're inviting her over for romantic dinners while your friends are playing valet," I said.
"Look… I said I'm sorry about that, okay?" he said.
"When?"
"Right… now! I'm trying to apologize right now, you're just making it really difficult!" he began shouting, exasperated.
"Don't yell at me," I snapped at him.
"I'm not," he shouted, then paused and began again in a quieter tone, "yelling. I'm just… I'm trying to be honest with you here."
"That sounds great, let's talk honestly and treat each other respectfully," I said, taking a step forward. My frustration and embarrassment had completely taken the reins; I just wanted out of this conversation. "How about we revisit the conversation I had with you weeks ago, when I told you we couldn't turn into anything? I meant it." He stared back at me. Was it anger in his eyes? Annoyance? Embarrassment? "So cut the flirtatious, teasing bullshit," I said, casting the coffee he had gotten me in the trashcan. The cup exploded in the bottom of the can, releasing scents of a dark roast and butterscotch. He didn't take his eyes off me as I did it; he just stared at me, boiling over with… some emotion. Was he going to hit me?
Was he going to try to kiss me?
"Fine," he said finally. "No more bullshit." He took a short step back, then stuck an angry finger in my face. "You keep taking it easy on Jay in your sparring sessions, and he's gonna get his ass kicked on the streets." He bitterly threw his own coffee in the garbage, as if that were somehow a personal insult to me. And somehow, it was.
"Yeah, well why don't you try getting him home on time? We beat Jay home last night by at least 45 minutes. You know what would have happened if Bruce went up to check on him and he wasn't there? So why don't you work on getting your own shit together before you start criticizing me," I snapped, then whirled away and hurried down the sidewalk. I meant to walk back to the train station, but I felt too energetic to sit still that long. I made it all the way to Gotham Square before I sat down on the edge of the fountain and took a breath.
Part of me wanted to cry. Why the hell did I want to cry? Because Dick was with some other woman and was trying to balance me on the side? Because he was leading me on and I put a stop to it? Because I stood up for myself? Bullshit. I'm not crying. He should cry. He should cry because he's missing out on me.
God, this whole internal conversation was stupid. None of this shit mattered.
Two Face mattered.
Black Mask mattered.
Joker and his dirty bombs, they mattered.
This middle school romance between me and Dick? That did not matter. What a waste of my time.
My phone rang and I bristled with annoyance, assuming it would be Dick.
It wasn't. It was Dad. I let out a deep breath, trying to cool myself off, before picking up the phone.
"Hey Dad," I answered.
"Hey Barb… you doing okay?" he asked. For a moment I froze, wondering how he knew I was upset. That was some powerful sixth sense.
Oh. He meant because of the library stuff.
"Yeah," I answered casually. "Just walking around the square. Getting my steps in, you know, trying to stay in shape."
"It'll be a bit harder, now that you've got a desk job. Trust me," my Dad said, but my attention was distracted by a small monkey that scampered up the sidewalk.
Yes. A monkey. Wearing a tiny bowler hat, suit coat, tie, and belt. It jumped up beside me on the fountain and handed me a flyer.
"Um…" I said to Dad in the receiver as the monkey scampered away, "a monkey just handed me a leaflet."
"Sorry, what?"
"Liquid Black Circus and Carnivale, for refined tastes," I read from the piece of paper. "Huh. Looks like some kind of old school travelling circus. Says they're doing some shows on an old oil rig in the harbor. Old school and avant-garde."
"Sweetie, you know I have no idea what that means…"
"It also says… 'preview show today in Gotham Square," I said, and I looked up to see what looked like a steam-punk train rolling into the square without tracks to ride on. "Oh wow… I wish you could see this, Dad!"