"What's wrong?" Tim stopped his pacing and gave Batgirl a look. She might have blushed under her cowl, but she didn't care too much, because he couldn't tell. She knew it had probably been a stupid question, but it had served to break the silence. Tim ran his hand through his hair.
"You mean other than the fact that this Scarab lady knows my secret identity, that we're halfway around the world from any backup, that my dad was killed just under a week ago, and we're locked up in a dungeon awaiting an assassin' whim?" She cocked her head to the side, then nodded. He gave a little half-laugh, half-sigh. "You do that too well."
"Sorry." He shrugged.
"Nah, it's a good thing." He gave her a half grin, then resumed pacing. "I guess the thing is…I can't make the connection." Batgirl remained silent, not wanting to compound her earlier stupid question with "huh?". Tim paused at the window…his classification of the room as a dungeon had been a tad overdramatic. It was, in fact, simply another office, a smaller one, devoid of any furniture or tools they could use to escape. Of course, Batgirl had rather…eloquently objected to the removal of her utility belt, so the bare room and locked door were rather pointless should they choose to escape.
"Did you notice the guys who attacked us in that alley?"
"Kinda hard to miss them." He chuckled, knowing he shouldn't be surprised at her wit, but feeling so anyway.
"Yeah. But one of them had this ring…a big one, expensive. Like the kind of ring that would be used in a corny movie to be the sign of some secret society or something."
"So?"
"That's just it. It's so dumb. And obvious and right out of a bad movie and…and I can't shake the feeling that it is important. Somehow."
"Maybe…too obvious, to throw you off?" He blinked, trying to decipher what it was she'd said.
"Well…it could have been just a ring, first of all, and meant nothing. Or, it could have really been important, in which case we're in trouble, as I haven't a clue what it meant. Or it could have been something really twisted, and put there just to distract me and make me think it's important when it's not and have me spend hours debating over whether it was too obvious to be a real clue or not and throw me off the trail of…whomever it is I'm tracking." Batgirl giggled as he made a funny face at the end of this circuitous dissertation.
"You let me know when you figure it out, ok?"
"Funny."
"Well…I think all those other issues you mentioned might be a little more important now." He sighed.
"I know, I know. But what if this is all tied into that somehow? I mean…" he broke off at a noise from the hall. Both of them moved instinctively to flank the door, preparing themselves for whatever Scarab had decided to send for them. The door clicked open and Scarab herself strode in, raising an eyebrow at their defensive positioning.
"For me? I'm flattered. Well? Have you come to a decision?" Tim relaxed and shot the woman a glare.
"Somehow being locked up doesn't set the best stage for decision making." She shrugged.
"You could have gotten out…my men didn't even take the girl's weapons. Locked up? Don't you think you're being a bit melodramatic? I was simply trying to give you a nice quiet spot to contemplate my offer." Tim shot her a disbelieving look, but Batgirl stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. At his inquiring look, she tilted her head, indicating she wanted to speak with him away from Scarab. He glanced back at the assassin, who graciously inclined her head. They moved to the side of the room, heads bent low together.
"She is lying."
"No kidding. I could have told you …"
"No. I mean…she has the information we want. But…I don't know. She knows I am not Stephanie…even with the mask…but she used it to goad you."
"If I remember right, you were the one who reacted." She shrugged.
"To distract her."
"Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever. So what's the problem? She's an assassin…you didn't think I was about to trust her, did you?" She didn't answer for a second, and he gave her a dirty look, assuming she had thought him that dim-witted.
"No, I didn't. I just…" she glanced back at Scarab, who was looking out the window, apparently unconcerned. "I don't trust her…and I don't…don't like assassins." She mumbled the last, and Tim gave her a commiserating look. He knew how much guilt she carried over her past, and the fact that her father was an assassin. It made sense she wouldn't be comfortable dealing with one now…didn't it?
"But…you've dealt with them before…Cain…and others. Why is this any different?"
"She is hiding something!"
"So what? We're the 'good guys' and she's a 'bad guy'…remember? It makes sense that…"
"NO!" she shot a glance at Scarab to determine if her outburst had caught the woman's attention. As it apparently hadn't, she continued in a softer tone, "No. This isn't that. It…she did lose out on her money, and she wants revenge, but…" she glanced away for a moment, lost in thought. "I…I think she wants revenge on you…too. She feels…unprofessional? That she didn't finish the job…that maybe he was right not to pay her. I think she wants to trap us." He nodded.
"That makes a lot of sense…more sense than her really wanting information about Gotham…I mean, she knows we won't give her any secrets, or research any of her targets or anything…so more likely she's using that as an excuse to send us into a trap by giving us the guy's name."
"Right." She waited, thinking he was going to explain his plan…for she could tell he had one…but he simply turned away and walked back towards Scarab. She turned at his approach and he gave her a solemn look.
"We have a deal."
"She panicked…it's not that big a deal." Nightwing grumbled as Alfred poked and prodded at a particularly nasty gash on his leg. "I mean…it's no worse than…um…"
"I do believe what you're trying to say is, even had you been moments away from death itself, you would have preferred Miss Barbara to refrain from calling Batman and letting him know?" Nightwing scowled.
"I didn't say that. And I wasn't 'moments away from death'. It's just…"
"What happened?" Two heads turned towards the entrance to the infirmary. Batman was at his most menacing, half in the shadows and growling out his questions without any warning.
"Nice to see you to…ow!"
"You should have kept still." Batman sighed, realizing neither of them were about to answer his question at this rate, and moved into the room, pulling back his cowl.
"Well?" Nightwing sighed.
"It wasn't all that big a…ow! Ok…ok! I get the point." He glared at Alfred, who continued cleaning the wound without a word. "Anyways, it was just…stupid." He glanced away, still angry with himself.
"Blockbuster?" Nightwing didn't answer, which was really all the answer anyone needed. "You should have called for…"
"I don't need backup!" he pushed himself up, trying to get off the table, but Alfred raised a needle filled with anesthetic menacingly and he leaned back. "I can handle this on my own!" Bruce raised an eyebrow at the deep cuts on his arms and leg, causing him to flush. "I don't…"
"I've heard that before." Nightwing opened his mouth to protest, but Bruce held up a hand to silence him. "And I have heard every argument you may want to put forth…" he hesitated. "I should, because I've used them all myself." Nightwing had no response to that, instead, he closed his mouth with a snap. There was really no argument for that…but to hear him admit it was, to say the least, surprising.
"Ahem." They both looked at Alfred. "If I may …"
"Can we stop you?" Alfred ignored this quip, though he may have jabbed a little harder than necessary at a particularly bloody patch of skin.
"…I have yet to have observed an incident where stubbornness and exclusion have done anything but bring disaster upon this family. I would even venture so far as to hypothesize an ending to this particular case. This Blockbuster fellow has been after Nightwing for months, with each encounter becoming more brutal and with more damage to Master Dick and his property." He leveled a stern glare at the young man. "Should you continue to insist you can 'handle this on your own', was it? that you would end up in one of three situations. Either in a similar condition to Master Bruce after his infamous encounter with Bane, lying under six feet of cold dirt, or, possibly, in jail yourself." Bruce and Nightwing stared at him incredulously.
"In jail? What are you talking about?" Nightwing leveled himself up again, a cross look on his face, but Bruce grew thoughtful and then nodded.
"Consider this scenario…Blockbuster is hunting you, stalking you. You're mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. He's beaten you…and then he breaks you. To save yourself…to end the torment…"
"What! I would never…I…"
"I don't think you would either…but suppose someone else did. You could take the blame… just think, only recently Blockbuster disappeared for a month and rumors started flying that you'd killed him. Alfred has a point." Nightwing glared at him, then jumped up from the exam table. Alfred started to protest, but Nightwing whirled on them both.
"I don't have to sit here and take this! This has nothing to do with anything! Tim's the one you should be helping…he's the one who needs it! He's lost his father! And may lose his…well, his stepmother anyway, if we don't find something to clear her!"
"They'd have to find something to incriminate her, first" Bruce stated, but Nightwing wasn't listening.
"I can take care of my own city! Listen, I know you wanted to send Robin over to Blüdhaven for awhile, before he ran off, anyway, and I think you had a good point wanting a change of scenery for the kid. But I know you were also trying to 'help' me, and I didn't ask for your help! I…" he glanced at Alfred, "I know you have some good points, that I could end up in trouble, but I really think I can handle it. I don't need your help as much as Tim does. So just…leave me alone!" And with that mature closing statement, he hobbled out of the room. Alfred glared at Bruce.
"What?"
"Hmph." Alfred sniffed and also turned. Bruce wisely decided trying to defend himself, to say it wasn't his fault, wouldn't go over well. Instead he sat down at the computer and opened the line to Oracle.
"Well?"
"He's all right. But…keep an eye on him. Don't let him know you're keeping an eye on him, but…"
"Hey, I think I know how to do covert, ok? What's going on?" Bruce glowered at her.
"Nothing is…"
"Bruce, you don't ask for surveillance on one of your own partners and expect me to believe nothing was going on. You have your own network that's sophisticated enough for anything of even relatively small importance. What do you need me for?" He sighed.
"He's…upset. I know…he probably gets it from me…that's Alfred's opinion anyway. But he's being stubborn, won't accept any help, and is going to get himself killed. If I try to interfere it will just push him farther away." Barbara nodded solemnly. And just when they had started getting along better, too. She was also surprised to hear Bruce admit that such stubbornness as he often displayed was not an asset. She narrowed her eyes.
"What else is going on?"
"What do you mean?" She simply stared at him. "Look, nothing is going on…I just have a feeling." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "I need you to get me any and all information on one Johnny Warren." She blinked.
"That guy Tim…"
"He didn't kill him"
"I wasn't going to say that!" she protested. "I was just…um…"
"Right. Anyways, find out whatever you can…history, contacts, friends, enemies. And the coroner's report…we never did get that…" something was nagging at him, but he couldn't place his finger on it.
"Fine. Anything else?" He shook his head. What was it about the coroner's report… "All right. Later." He nodded distractedly as the screen winked off. His gaze drifted across the room, landing on an empty shelf. Empty…he straightened. That was it! And that meant…
"Alfred!"
"Sir?"
"Batgirl turned off her communicator. If she contacts you here, she or Tim, let me know. And tell them to call me." He pulled up his cowl, and strode purposefully towards the jet.
"Certainly. Might I know where it is you're going?"
"Hopefully to find them before it's too late."
"Sir?"
"They're walking right into a trap."
To be continued…
