"Grayson! Get your ass over here!"

Dick nearly flinched at the loud bellowing of Police Chief Delmore Redhorn. He cast one sad, longing glance at his still half-wrapped BLT before turning to face his superior.

"Coming, sir," he said cheerily, like he didn't know just how deeply in cahoots the man was with Roland Desmond and the rest of the Blockbuster Gang. "Right away, sir!"

The rest of the officers present let out a choir of cat-calls, boos, and other shouted insults. His fellow beat cop and one of the few friendly faces in the precinct, Amy Rohrbach, sent him a worried, sympathetic look from across the floor. He shot her a bright grin in return, not letting any of the one thousand thoughts racing through his head show. As soon as he was no longer visible to anyone, the fake smile fell away.

'It's probably nothing,' the young man told himself. 'It could be a case or a complaint or a new assignment. There is no reason to think it's about anything but work.'

Redhorn was not a particularly smart man, nor did he truly care about preventing or solving crime in Bludhaven. Then again, he'd gotten to this point in his life and career by being cunning enough to hook up with the right people, and slimy enough to stay in bed with them. And why wouldn't he? With the BPD having no formal commissioner, the Chief of Police was the most powerful man in Bludhaven in all but name and pay grade. Who'd give that level of power up for something as silly and pointless as morality, ethics, and justice?

Dick had known all that before joining the force. He had no right to be as surprised and angry as he often found himself by the level of casual corruption around him. In the five years since he'd officially become a police officer for the department, he'd think of it as something of a pandemic. A deep, rancid poison that radiated throughout the entire city, rotting it inside and out.

That was, until recently...

"You rang, Chief?" he asked, fake smile back in place.

"Don't be a smartass, Grayson," Redhorn growled. He was a tall, heavy-set man with a crew cut that didn't match his round, fat face. "We have a very important visitor in the station who asked to speak to you directly. I don't want you fucking this up."

'Oh god, please let it not be Bruce,' Dick mentally begged, the false smile nearly falling from his face at the thought. Still, he prevailed. "Wouldn't dream of it, Chief."

Redhorn scowled at him again but silently led Dick to his office where a woman in a sharp, expensive-looking coal gray pencil skirt suit set with a purple undershirt and glossy black stiletto heels was waiting. Heels that Dick quickly discovered were very, very unnecessary when the woman stood up to greet him, an action that left him literally looking up at her. Dick's first thought as he took the entire sight of the woman in was that she must be an amazon because she reminded him in beauty, height, and aura of silent, steady strength of the one time and only time he'd met Wonder Woman.

"Officer Grayson, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said, holding out her hand.

Recovering quickly from his shock and snapping his slack jaw shut, Dick took it in a firm handshake. "And you as well, Miss..."

"You'll have to forgive Grayson here. The kid is pretty to look at but doesn't have much in the brains department," Redhorn cut him, shooting Dick yet another dirty glare as he closed the office door. "It isn't surprising that he doesn't recognize one of Bludhaven's most illustrious citizens."

He looked at Dick, giving him an 'I told you not to fuck this up,' look. "Grayson, say hello to Ms. Nico Franks. You know, the CEO and owner of Thousand Solutions Enterprise."

"Oh!" Dick felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Yes, of course, I've heard of you! I've been following your company's developments in athletic wear. I just didn't recognize you because-"

"Fufufu. How flattering, Officer Grayson. And it's quite alright, I'm so camera and interview shy that it isn't surprising you didn't recognize me," Franks laughed. Yet, when she looked at Redhorn, a slightly colder, more serious look crossed her beautiful face. "And it is 'Mrs. Franks.' I've been happily married for some time now."

The reprimand made Redhorn look like he was sucking on a lemon. When he went to say something, Franks cut him off.

"Chief Redhorn, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of some coffee? I'm afraid my busy schedule leaves me exhausted more often than not."

"I can show her to the breakroom," Dick offered quickly, recognizing an attempted brush off when he saw it. It also wasn't hard to guess that whatever Franks wanted to talk about, she didn't want to do it in front of the chief. He held out his elbow, "Allow me to escort you, Ma'am."

The woman giggled, tucking a delicate, manicured hand into the crook of Dick's arm. "I'd be delighted."

Confidence was key in getting away with anything and, with this in mind, Dick was able to lead Franks right past Redhorn and through the halls of the police station until they reached the empty breakroom.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asked, grabbing two paper cups. Dick was struck with the thought that Alfred would scold him for not offering the woman a proper mug but, then again, those never lasted long in the BPD considering their tendency to end up as projectiles.

"With a splash of milk and one sugar. Not too sweet, please."

"Coming right up," he said, pouring one for himself as well. When he passed it to the woman, he couldn't resist adding, "Just as a fair warning, the coffee here is terrible."

"I'm sure I've had worse. Besides, I didn't come for the coffee."

Oh, right.

Dick took a seat opposite Franks, letting himself grow serious instead of keeping up his cheery façade. "Why are you here, Mrs. Franks? And, more importantly, why ask to speak with me specifically. I don't hold any real seniority in the department, beyond having managed to not die since I started, and I'm not exactly Mr. Popularity here."

The older, more established members of the force hadn't exactly liked it when a fresh-faced young rookie rolled up and refused to play ball with the bribes and complicity that was expected of Bludhaven police officers. Once his past as Billionaire Bruce Wayne's former ward got out, despite Dick's best efforts, the teasing and harassment had only increased. The fact that Dick hadn't fallen to friendly fire in his first year surprised both him and everyone else. Not that there weren't plenty of attempts.

Franks took her time answering, taking a long, slow sip of her coffee. "Are you familiar with Thousand Solutions' specialized high-pressure hand cannons?"

Dick blinked. "Yeah, I think so. The NYCD has been experimenting with using them instead of regular firearms, right? And I think the Metropolis Police Department was considering trying them out too?"

"Correct on both counts. And to great effect in New York, I might add. Since implementing them, deaths involving police fire have decreased by 30%," Franks smiled, her pride clear. "And after seeing the success there, my company and I have decided to start offering to sponsor their usage in other police departments as well."

"...Starting with Bludhaven," Dick said, as realization and, strangely, excitement dawned on him.

Another smile. "Exactly. And I want you to be our liaison for the program."

"Me?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes." Franks stirred another packet of sugar into her coffee. "I won't insult you by assuming I need to explain to you the effect my company has had on this city?"

"Well, on top of the influx of new jobs, I know you're responsible for the crime rate basically being cut in half, mostly in terms of petty street crime but a lot of the mob crime is being strangled too. It's gotten to the point where there have been talks of budget cuts. Not enough crime to go around anymore."

"I suppose you wouldn't be the only unpopular one then," Franks said, tilting her head to the side with a small smile playing on her lips. "But, as to why I chose you specifically, the answer is simple: you come highly recommended."

"By who?" he asked. 'Please don't be Bruce. Please don't be Bruce. Please don't be Bruce.'

"My head of security, Enrico Fernandez."

Dick searched his memories for the name -it did sound vaguely familiar- but ultimately shrugged, shaking his head. "Sorry, doesn't ring a bell."

"Fufufu, I believe you arrested him once."

'Oh god, this is a setup,' Dick thought, forcing himself to keep calm. "And he's recommending me for a job now? I have to confess, that is a little suspicious."

"Understandable," Franks said. "Enrico told me that you treated him with respect, compassion, and professional restraint even while arresting him for drug running. According to him, you are one of the few honest cops in the city -sad of a statement as that is."

Dick agreed, though he didn't say that. "So, just to get this straight, you're offering me this position because your former convict head of security -very interested in hearing that story, by the way- said that I behave with common decency and basic ethics?"

"Well, that isn't the only reason," Franks admitted. "I've done my own research, Officer Grayson, and I'm impressed. Your academy scores were fantastic, as are your performance reviews... except for some unsubstantiated complaints from your fellow officers, though I didn't take those very seriously.

Letting out a groan, Dick rolled his eyes. "Like I said, I'm not exactly popular with the old guard."

"I can relate. People fear change and, in turn, hate those who threaten the lives they are comfortable with." For a moment, Franks got this look in her brown eyes like she was somewhere far away before snapping back to the present. "I also understand that, in several years of service, you've only fired your gun three times. Why is that?"

Dick shifted in the hard plastic chair. "I... don't really like them. Guns, I mean."

There had been a hot rush of rebellious euphoria when he'd first gotten his service weapon. Even holding it in his hands felt like he was going against every rule and code that Bruce had ever tried to install with him. Practicing with it had been even more exhilarating; the energy that shot through his body as every shot had gone off was like a shot of heroin. But, as time went on, the ecstasy had worn off. After drawing it on someone for the first time, Dick had thrown up some overgrown shrubs. He still didn't have the same aversion to them as Bruce did but if Dick could go his entire career without having to fire his gun again outside of shooting range, then he'd retire perfectly happy.

"I just think there is usually a way to handle situations without them," he continued. "One where hopefully no one has to die."

"Hmmm." While Franks' face remained pleasantly blank, there was a little twinkle in her eye that told Dick he'd passed some secret test. "As do I. Which is part of the reason my husband and I developed the Mini Burst Hand Canon. Make no mistake, we both believe in the appropriate use of force when necessary and wouldn't hesitate to take out a threat should the need arise. But, at the same time, justice should be tempered with mercy and compassion. Should it not?"

When Dick smiled this time, it was genuine. "I just wish more people agreed. You know, I really do admire that your company is willing to employ former convicts. More than anything, I credit that with the drop in crime rate. Now all those people coming to prison have somewhere to go aside from back to a life of crime."

Franks shrugged her shoulders and pulled a card from her wallet, sliding it over to him. "I'm not demanding an answer today. Take some time to think things over, and perhaps make a list of other officers you believe trustworthy. If I don't hear back from you in a week then I'll assume you aren't interested and start looking elsewhere."

"And if I am interested?"

"Then stop by the office and present that card to the person at the front desk," Franks said, rising to her feet. "I'll see myself out now. It was lovely meeting you, Officer Grayson. I hope we'll be working together in the future."

"Nice to meet you too," Dick said, keeping his answer purposefully noncommittal.

Hesitating for half a step, Franks looked down at the now lukewarm cup of coffee clutched in her hand. "This is very bad."

"Mmmhmm," Dick nodded, watching the woman empty what was left of her drink into a nearby half-dead potted plant. "BPD's special brand of terrible. Keeps you away and literally nothing else."

"If nothing else, I can promise you better coffee at my office," she said. Then, with one final mysterious smile, Franks sauntered away, disappearing around a corner as her long, shiny ponytail swayed behind her.

"Nico Franks... there is more to you than meets the eye," he muttered before finally picking up the card, turning it over in his hand. It wasn't anything particularly special to look at -just pale purple cardstock with the image of a wrench intertwined with a pink flower against a stylized sun on one side. 'Curiouser and curiouser.'

After a moment of thought, Dick tucked the card into his back pocket. If nothing else, it might be worth running some tests on the thing back home.

'Now, what am I going to tell Redhorn about this whole thing?'

'That went well enough,' Robin thought to herself as she steered her car -a shiny, cherry red Mercedes- through crowded city streets as she made her way back to the office. 'He didn't reject my offer immediately. Now, we just wait to see what young Officer Grayson will do. And if he'll go running towards his former guardian.'

She hadn't been lying about doing her own research on the young man, Robin had just neglected to mention how in-depth that research had been. And, to be truthful with herself, Richard Grayson's story had broken her heart.

'To lose your family at such a young age, and so horribly too. No matter which world I'm in, I see tragedy wherever I go,' she shook her head. 'I'm impressed his heart didn't harden to the world after such an event.'

Robin had considered asking Grayson about his family, specifically Bruce. But, in the end, she decided against it. The young man's relationship with his former guardian was, by all accounts, highly strained. If she pushed the wrong buttons, then she risked Grayson retreating entirely.

"Carrot and the stick method. It never fails," she said to herself, pulling into her private parking, the security gate closing tight behind her. "Best to let him come to me."

Parking her car, Robin headed for her personal elevator, mind already on the mountain of paper she needed to work her way through. But, before the doors could fully close, Robin looked through the gap and past the security gate into the alleyway across the street. There, she caught a small, quick glimpse of blond hair and a flash of tan cloth disappearing down the alley.

'John?'

Robin slammed her hand on the 'Open' button but it was too late. The elevator shuttled her up to her office, Robin tapping the toe of her high heels shoe on the ground. When the doors finally opened again, she rushed to the window overlooking the alleyway.

"Nothing," she grumbled, the angle too poor to see anything. Robin knew without even checking that none of the office's security cameras would reach there either. That would have to be fixed later. "Only one option left then. Medio Cuerpo Fleur!"

Robin closed her eyes, stretching her consciousness out into the alleyway below. Her eyes sprouted first, blinking briefly to look around to see the lean, rumpled form of John Constantine leaning against the wall of a building. The teenager was too busy trying to light a cigarette to notice when Robin finished growing the rest of her upper body from the wall.

"Hello there," she said pleasantly.

"JESUS!" John spun around, dropping his cigarette. When he saw her there, the teenager swore again. "Bloody hell! You got yourself some power there! What, you can teleport parts of yourself?"

"Of sorts," Robin replied. Then she had an idea. "I can tell you more... if you tell me why you are here, skulking about outside of my building."

John smirked, cocking his head to the side. "Another deal, eh?"

Robin said nothing, instead keeping her face carefully blank as she stared at the teenager before her. After a long moment, John shrugged. He tugged the collar of his oversized coat up before picking his cigarette up off the ground, popping the end back into his mouth.

"Decided to stick around the city for a while, gotta nice enough set up in one of the old west-side apartment buildings. Plus, this damn city happens to have the best fish 'n' chips I've had on this side of the pond. I was on my way to get some when I happened to pass by," he said. John looked away before adding. "It was just a coincidence."

He muttered something under his breath and a small ball of flame bloomed in the center of John's hand. The fire wasn't natural, Robin could tell that immediately. For one, it stunk like sulfur and burnt human corpses. For another, it was a sickly green and black in color, with thick, greasy smoke. Unperturbed by any of this, John used the flames to light his cigarette before shaking his hand out, causing it to disappear.

"Oh?" Robin decided not to voice her doubts, nor let her surprise at the display of... magic show.

After a moment, John's armor snapped back into place. He took a step back and fixed Robin with a glare. "Alright, I held up my end. Now it is your turn, what are you doing? How are you doing it?"

"Hmmm, I will... but first I would like some lunch."

"Huh?"

"I'm hungry," Robin said. "It was planning on going out to eat anyway, so now is as good of a time as any. If you'd like to join me, I'll be happy to tell you over a meal. My treat, of course."

"..."

"Excellent! I'll be right down, " the archeologist continued on like John had actually agreed to come. Still, it was only fair to offer him an out. "You don't have to come, of course. I can't stop you from leaving."

The teenager still said nothing but, behind his blue eyes, Robin could see one thought running through John's mind.

If I leave, I might never learn.

'He's a curious boy,' she thought fondly. Robin was always one to appreciate the thirst for knowledge.

"See you in a moment," she said. Without another word, Robin dispelled her spouted half-body and let her consciousness return to her main body. Without another word, she let the boy make his choice.

"I'm glad you decided to wait for me," Robin said cheerily.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John shrug again. He pulled out another cigarette. "I'm not one to turn down a free lunch."

Robin looked over her shoulder to smile at the teenager. "A fine policy. A dear friend of mine would agree."

Of course, it didn't escape the woman's notice of how skinny John was. Not in the natural way teenage boys often were -even Sanji had looked like a thin little string bean when they first met, though his slender body had been counterbalanced by steel-like lean muscle and near unparalleled skill in combat- either, no this was the kind of thin build that came from a lifetime of never getting as much food and sleep and comfort as one needed to survive, let alone thrive.

"So where are we going?" John asked, clearly shifting the subject away from himself.

Before Robin could answer, a hooded thug appeared from behind a dumpster and lunged forward, making a grab for her purse. Without even missing a step in her relaxed stride, Robin slammed her palm upward into the man's nose, breaking it with a satisfyingcrunch! Letting out a pained groan, the would-be thief fell back against the side of the dumpster while clutching his nose.

Not sparing the man another thought, Robin continued on. Behind her, John followed more cautiously. When he passed by the thug, he paused... then landed a solid kick to the man's groin.

"Umpf!" the man wheezed, falling to the ground.

When John hurried to catch up with her, standing closer now than ever before, Robin had to hide her smile.

"We're going to a little Vietnamese place I've grown fond of," she said. "Do you like pho?"

"Never given it much thought."

The answer was vague enough that Robin had to wonder if John had ever had it before. "Hopefully this will change your mind then."

The restaurant was a tiny, hidden place. A true hole-in-the-wall, one had to cross the ground floor of an old parking garage, down a set of stairs, and knock on the right door. If one was lucky, someone might just open up.

Today, Robin and John were lucky.

"Oh, Miss Robin," Hoang, the son of the owner, greeted when he opened the door. "Good to see you again!"

"Fufufu, you know I can't stay away for long. Your father's food is far too delicious," Robin laughed. "Are you open today?"

"For our best customer? Of course!" Hoang said. The smile on his face fell slightly when he saw John standing there next to her, still smoking a cigarette.

Robin followed his stare. "This is John, he is a friend of mine."

That was enough to calm the spike of tension. Hoang held the door open, "Come in! Come in! I'll tell Bố that you're here."

"Thank you."

The restaurant proper was a dimly lit single room with six, two-person tables. It was far from the most lively of establishments, but Robin liked it. Partly because the food was so excellent and partly because the family who ran it were so lovely, but also because it was perfect for quiet conversations.

Kim, Hoang's younger sister, was already pouring two glasses of water when Robin and John sat down. "I already put your favorite tea to brew, Miss Robin."

"You're so kind." She turned to John. "Do you already know what you want, or should I have them bring us a menu? They don't offer many options but I assure you that everything is wonderful."

"Doesn't matter to me."

"Hmmm." Robin turned to Kim, "Bring us one serving of everything please, then we'll go from there."

"Yes, Miss Robin."

As the teenager hurried off, John gave Robin a surprised look. "Ain't that a bit much, Luv?"

"Fufufu, you'd be surprised by how much I can eat. And besides, Ir. can take anything leftovers back to my husband."

"You're married?"

"Quite happily for some years now," Robin replied. She gestured to the table, sliding into her own spot. "Please, sit."

After a moment of hesitation, John jerked his chair out from under the table. Even when he finally sat down, Robin noticed that he did not tuck his legs back under the table.

'He feels the need to be ready to make a quick escape. Smart boy.'

"Alright, I'm going along with your little game, so it's time to keep that you keep the end of the bargain," John said. "So spill, what are your powers? Where do they come from?"

Kim returned with Robin's tea then, giving her an excuse not to answer immediately. She drew the moment out, pouring herself a cup and stirring it slowly. "What do you think my abilities are?"

"I think they're fucking creepy, that's for sure."

"Well, you're not the first to say that," Robin laughed. "But is that all?"

John frowned, his brow drawing in concentration. He slumped down in his chair and scratched at the stubble that dusted his chin. "I've been thinking about it. You can... make duplicates of yourself, or parts of yourself. I'd call them clones but it doesn't seem like they have a mind of their own; you seem to be able to control them remotely."

'Impressive deductive skills, especially since he's only seen my powers in action twice,' Robin thought, sipping her tea. "Very good. Anything else?"

"I've been thinking of the different types of spells and magic that could create the effect. You're solid enough to grab people, so it's not an astral projection. The same reason tells me that it isn't an illusion. And, like I said, I don't think it's a clone -magical or otherwise. So..." the teenager gave Robin an annoyed look, "I'm stumped. You have to be a metahuman, but I don't know much about those freak shows. And I hate being in the dark."

If that was a threat, then it wasn't a very good one. With his messy hair and scowl, John looked like a grumpy, disheveled cat. It was quite adorable.

She decided to toss him a bone. "Well, to be honest, I'm not quite sure if my powers qualify as magic or if they make me a… metahuman in this world. However, they are considered magic in mine -even if the truth is a touch more complicated than that."

"When I was young, I ate something called the Hana Hana no Mi or, to some, the Flower-Flower Fruit. In simplest terms, it granted me the ability to sprout multiple body parts on any solid surface, including my skin and the bodies of others. With training and a little imagination, I was able to do even more. And you're right, I can manipulate my blooms as if they were the original limbs." She smiled, cocking her head to the side, "You're an observed young man."

At the compliment, John ducked his head. It was only for a moment though, almost as quickly as Robin could blink, John's walls were once more back up. Robin fought back a sigh at this. It seemed like every step of progress she made with John also came with two steps back.

At least his curiosity remained.

"So you're telling me you got your powers by eating a fruit?" he asked incredulously. "Luv, you're going to have to get me pretty damn bevied before I'm willing to believe that."

"Is it truly so hard to believe? Even in this world, mythology has plenty of stories of magical fruits that grant the consumer powers. Figs from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden made Adam and Eve aware of Good and Evil. Peaches of Immortality were consumed by the immortals of Taoism to ensure their longevity. Then there are the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides. If one were to-"

"Alright, alright! I get it! The idea isn't completely ridiculous" John said, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. Then something seemed to occur to him. "What, you said 'this world.' Does that mean you're an alien like the Big Blue Boy Scout from Metropolis?"

Robin took a moment to answer. She glanced at the kitchen door. Kim, Hoang, and their father had always been good about giving Robin her privacy and, even if they did overhear this conversation, she very much doubted they'd care. This was a strange world indeed, and Robin tipped extremely well. Well enough that talks of her being from another world were happily ignored.

"If by that, you mean 'And I from outer space?' that the answer is no... as far as I can tell. A more accurate description is that I'm from a world next to this one."

John nodded slowly, "Another dimension then. Okay, I can wrap my head around that. I-"

"Appetizers!" Kim announced, kicking open the swinging kitchen door with a massive tray of food in her hands. "We've got some Bánh tôm, Bánh ít, and Chả bò for you today. The rest of your food is on the way."

"Delightful!" Robin turned to John and translated, "Shrimp and sweet potato fritters, sticky little rice cakes, and Vietnamese beef rolls."

"Sounds good," the teenager said nonchalantly, even though he was eyeing the platters of food with a tell-tale hunger.

"Oh, speaking of you..." Kim pulled a can of soda from her apron pouch, holding it out to John. "We don't really sell soda in the restaurant but I thought you might like something besides water and tea, so I snuck one of mine down from upstairs."

John took the soda with a small smile. "Aren't you sweet for looking out for me? Thank you, Luv."

Kim flashed him another grin before returning to the kitchen. Robin watched her go before looking back at John. "Fufufu, quite the young charmer."

The teenager flinched ever so slightly. "No. No, nothing like that. Don't get me wrong, she's pretty and seems sweet. But I'm not interested in anything like that."

He scratched at his neck then and, for the first time, Robin noticed the thin gold chain of a necklace that'd been mostly covered by the collar of John's shirt. When his fingers caught the chain, tugging it slightly, Robin saw something -likely the pendant of the necklace- move under his shirt.

'How curious... Why would he feel the need to cover up a piece of jewelry? And why react so negatively to a bit of light teasing?'

Robin poured another cup of tea, passing this one to John who took it with a look of surprise on his face. He didn't thank her, but the small smile he tried to hide was more than enough.

"So... have you made any progress on your project?" she asked with careful casualness.

"Hmm? What project?"

"The magnifying glass. I believe you said you wanted to reverse the spell on it? Have you made any progress on that front?"

John's hand almost immediately twitched towards his neck before he could stop himself. But even that small movement told Robin what she wanted to know.

"Fine," John snapped, shoving a rice cake into his mouth.

"Any thoughts on the food?"

"Only that I eat too much of it," John said. He nodded down at the stack of white takeout boxes in his arms. "What are you going to do with all this?"

"Fufufu, you can keep it. I have all I want from the meal," Robin replied, holding up her own box.

"But your husband-"

"Pho isn't something Franky particularly cares for. He is more of a steak and burger sort of man."

John paused in his step, shifting uncomfortably. His hesitation made Robin press a bit more, "Don't overthink the matter. Take the food or don't, but the offer was mine to make."

"...Alright," the teenager said, a touch too gruffly to be considered polite. But then, "Thanks."

'Better than nothing,' Robin thought. 'Perhaps I am making progress with him. And, if nothing else, I know he has something to eat when he goes... home tonight.'

Home... Where did John consider home? She'd have to look into that.

Silence lapsed over the pair as they made their way back through the dimly lit parking garage. It would almost be peaceful if not for a slight lingering tension between the two.

"Why'd you do this?" John asked, breaking the quiet.

"Do what?"

The teenager shot her a sharp glare. "Don't bullshit me."

'Smart boy,' she thought once more.

"Perhaps I simply wanted to help you in a way I thought you'd accept," Robin said. "Perhaps I-'

'Someone is here!'

Robin spun around, eyes narrowing as she scanned the surrounding environment. Her Observation Haki buzzed in the back of her skull, warning her of the coming danger. It was so loud that it put her teeth on edge.

"You feel that too?" John whispered, also looking around. By his side, his hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

"Yes. Someone is watching us. Ojos Fl-"

BANG!