In case you're wonder why the thumbnail for this story is now Bartolomeo fanboying over Robin, it's because writing this story has led be to realizing that I am a bit of a Robin simp.

BANG!

In the half-second that it would have taken Robin to either call upon her Armament Haki or dodge the on-coming bullet, John had shoved her to the side.

"Agh!" the teenager cried out in pain, crumpling to the ground. One hand clutching his shoulder, John drew in a shuddering breath. "Bloody hell, that hurts! The fuckin' telly lied! This bloody fucking hurts."

With a calmness that only years of combat situations could create, Robin wrapped an arm around John's waist and pulled him up. Though she attempted to be as gentle as possible, speed was more important. She all but dragged the boy behind a nearby concert pillar, setting him on the ground and kneeling beside him.

"Let me see." Not waiting for an invitation, Robin pried John's fingers away from his injured shoulder revealing a bloody hole just under his clavicle. "This is going to hurt."

Robin tilted John forward so she could examine the back of his shoulder as he choked on pained half-sobs, finding both his clothes and skin were intact. "No exit wound. The bullet is still in there."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Depends on the situation," Robin replied, already checking her pockets for something she could use as a bandage. Finding nothing, she unbuttoned the bottom of her top and ripped off a strip of cloth.

"How 'bout now?"

Robin clicked her tongue and bandaged the wound to the best of her ability. "That remains to be seen."

For some reason, her response got a dry, rough laugh from John. "Get out of here."

"What?"

The boy looked up at her with unfocused blue eyes. "The git that shot at you is still here, he has to be. You've got to get out of here before he decides to try again."

"I'm not leaving you here," Robin said sharply, refusing to even consider the idea. She pulled the makeshift bandage tight, tying a quick knot. "Why would you even suggest such an idea?"

"I can survive on my own, I always have before. It comes with being able to make your own luck." John shook his head, an action that turned the already pale pallor of his skin a sickly green. "Look, just... picture where you need to go in your mind. Your house, your office... I don't care which, just focus on it."

'What is he going to do?' Robin frowned but gave a slow nod of agreement; it was probably better to play along. For now, at least. She closed her eyes for a moment and focused on her living room back home, envisioning it with her usual level of detail. "Okay, I'm picturing it now."

"Good." With a shaky, blood-soaked hand, John reached out to press the tips of his pointer and middle finger against Robin's forehead. The other hand, the one he was barely able to lift a few inches, was held out to the left of them. "Sic puto, ibi ero! Ab animo, ostium creatur!"

Robin's eyes went wide as the air in the space John was gesturing to quivered before a ring of golden light formed, whirling around and around as it widened. 'Just like what happened in my office! This must have been the... spell he used that night as well. Truly fascinating!'

But she didn't have time to think about it too deeply. Through the 'ring,' Robin was able to see her living room, though thankfully not her husband. She'd have to explain this all to Franky later.

"Alright. Off you pop now, luv," John said. His head lolled back against the pillar, the blood flowing freely from his shoulder now. "You'll want to move sooner rather than later. I won't be able to keep the portal open for very long."

"Good."

Without another word, Robin grabbed John under his uninjured shoulder. Before he could protest she hauled him up and shoved him through the portal. Robin winced when the teenager landed on his bad shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain. Still, it had the desired effect. The gold energy ringer flickered once... twice... then a third time before it disappeared from sight.

'With John out of harm's way, I don't have to worry about going all out if need be.'

Robin folded her arms. "Ojos Fleur!"

Using her best estimate of the bullet's trajectory, Robin sprouted her eyes in that direction as far as they could go. She refused to allow the attacker to escape unpunished.

'There he is.'

Not all that far from Robin and John was an older, well-built man with white hair and a fitted black bodysuit.

"Shit, shit, shit!" the man hissed under his breath. He was fumbling with a sleek, long-barreled gun. "You're never going to live this one down, Cain."

But when he stood up and turned around, the man was unprepared for what he saw.

"Jesus!" he shouted when he saw Robin's many eyes sprouted from the wall. His shock only increased when she disbursed all but two of her eyes and pulled the rest of her upper through the connection. The man went to pull a smaller, secondary handgun from a hip holster.

Robin put a stop to that immediately. "Tres Fleur!"

Three arms, each reinforced by Armament Haki, sprouted from the man's back. Two grabbed and pinned his arms, while the third wrapped around his neck in a chokehold.

"Who are you?" Robin demanded. "Why did you attack me?"

The man -Cain?- didn't reply at first, instead twisting his head the best he could to look at Robin's sprouted limbs. "Fuck, he didn't tell you were a metahuman!"

"Someone sent you after me then?"

Cain clicked his tongue. "I'm a professional, sweetheart, so you won't be getting anything out of me. But know this, you've been making some enemies."

Robin was almost impressed by the calm facade the man was able to maintain.

Almost.

SNAP!

"Fuck!" Cain shouted in pain as Robin easily broke the arm he'd been trying to wiggle out of her hold.

"That is nothing new," she said coldly. "And I wouldn't attempt that again. Strength, speed... Those words have no meaning to me. You hurt a boy I've decided to save and now you need to pay for that."

"The kid?" Cain scoffed. "That was his own fault, I was aiming for you. Besides, it wasn't a fatal shot."

Robin frowned, 'Does he mean that John should be able to survive his injury... or that he wasn't shooting to kill in the first place?'

"I will give you one more chance. Who sent you after me? Why was I targeted?"

Cain gave her a smug grin. "Not telling you anything, honey. Professional policy. Go ahead and call the cops. I'll be able to get out before even seeing the inside of a cell."

Sadly, Robin could believe it. Corruption may often wear a different face here than it did in her world, but it was just as widespread.

"Tell me, why shouldn't I just kill you then?" she asked, tightening her hold around Cain's neck. "If you refuse to give me the information I want and will be on the streets again soon, putting myself and those I care for in danger, then it seems like that would be the most logical solution to the problem."

Now, there was a spark of fear in the man's eyes. A slight waver in his voice, Cain tried to bargain. "If you kill me, then you'll never know who hired me!"

"Oh, I like to think of myself as an intelligent woman. I'm sure I can solve the mystery myself," Robin replied with a fake, cheery smile.

A bead of sweat trickled down from the man's forehead. "Y-you can't do it. If the goddamn Batman won't kill me, then you certainly won't. All the so-called heroes of the world are too weak to do what needs to be done."

"On that, I happen to agree with you," Robin said, remembering stories she's read about what the 'villains' of this world were allowed to get away with. "Unfortunately for you, I am no hero."

"What are you then?"

"A pirate," the woman smiled sweetly. "So, rest assured, I have no issue getting my hands a little d-"

'Someone else is here.'

Another figure, this one far more dangerous than Cain, was approaching. Even with her haki warning her, Robin turned just in time to see the metallic glinting of a throwing knife flying through the air at her. Though she could probably take the damage with little issue -Robin and Franky had come to the conclusion that they, and likely everyone from their world, had a higher baseline durability than the humans of this world- Robin instead decided to disperse all of her blooms. With this second, unknown foe lurking in the shadows, she could no longer control the situation. For now, it was best to step back and reevaluate things before making her next move.

And besides, the approaching police sirens told Robin that she only had a few minutes to prepare the story she wanted to tell.

'Today is your lucky day, Mr. Cain,' she thought, pulling a small switchblade from its hiding place on her person. 'Savor it, I'll be coming for my pound of flesh soon.'

She glanced down at red pools of blood from where John had been sitting. Without flinching, she sliced a clean gash on the strongest part of her muscular right thigh, far from any major blood vessels or arteries. The blood started flowing immediately but Robin just calmly tucked her knife away before dragging her thumb along the length of the gash, widening it enough to pass as the type of wound that would come from being grazed by a bullet. As the police sirens drew closer, Robin watched as her blood dripped down, mixing and covering John's.

After that and a few more quick... adjustments to the environment around her, Robin tore another piece of her shirt off to bandage her wound. 'This might be one of the rare cases where a police force's corruption could come in handy. I didn't have all the time to prepare things the way I'd like. I'll have to rely on my performance and their lack of care to smooth things over.'

Robin was in the middle of arranging herself artfully against the concrete pillar, deliberately smearing her own blood where she could when she felt her cell phone buzz. Pulling her phone out, she saw a text message from Franky.

Husband: Hey Babe, anything you want to tell me?

Robin typed out a quick reply, letting Franky know she'd explain when she got home. Just as she put her phone away, Robin heard the loud cry of, "POLICE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

"I'm in here! Please, I'm injured! I need help!" she yelled back. 'Time to put on a show.'

"You shouldn't have come," Batman growled under his breath.

Superman landed gently a few feet from him and the Batplane. "Sometimes a friendly face gets more answers than a scary scowl. This isn't Gotham, Batman. You don't have as much pull here."

"And you do?" he asked, shooting his colleague a withering glare. "What is this really about?"

The alien hero said nothing at first, instead staring out at the scene before them. He paid particular attention to the dark-haired woman sitting in the back of an ambulance surrounded by police officers.

"You've been focused on Nico Franks for the past few months now, even more so since your little meeting," Superman said slowly. "I won't deny there is something suspicious about her and her company, but I want to make sure this is done right."

Something dark and bitter twisted in Batman's guts. "Do you think so little of me?"

"I think I know you. I think I know that your desire to protect the world blinds you to individuals." Superman clapped Batman on the shoulder. "Don't take it so personally. You know what they say, two heads are better than one. We can play Good Cop/Bad Cop."

"Hmmm." Batman refused to say anything else on the subject, instead approaching the nearest police officer, and tapping him on the shoulder.

"What is- Fuck!" The cop jumped when he turned to see two famous heroes staring at him. "Uh, Superman... Batman... Sir, what the hell are you doing here?"

"We have reason to expect that the attack on Mrs. Franks is related to a case the Justice League has been working on," the Dark Knight said. "I need to speak with her immediately."

It wasn't technically a lie. Batman was a member of the Justice League and he was investigating Nico Franks.

The police officer glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of other cops. "I don't know. Redhorn hates vigilantes, it would be my ass on the line if he found out I-"

"It's fine, let them through," another, highly familiar voice called.

'Dick.'

It was only years of practice and training that allowed the Dark Knight to show no reaction as his eldest son stepped into view. Superman didn't have the same restraint, however, and Batman frowned when the man shifted uncomfortably by his side.

"It's fine, Clayborne," Dick repeated to his fellow officer. "We could use the extra help. I'll take the heat from Redhorn if he flips out."

"But-"

"You think someone as high profile as the Nico Franks is going to trust some underfunded, under-trained police force to find whoever attacked her? C'mon, after everything she's done for this city, doesn't the lady deserve the best. "

"I guess... Ah, what the hell?" the other officer, Clayborne, shrugged. "They're all yours, Greyson. Probably for the best. You used to live in Gotham, right? You're probably more used to-" he nodded towards the two heroes "-this kind of thing than I am."

"Hmmm." Dick turned to Batman and Superman, his own face a careful mask of professional calm. "Can you two follow me? I'll take you to Mrs. Franks."

Batman swallowed. "Of course."

For a moment, he wanted to say more. He didn't though, now was not the time nor the place. Besides, what would he even say?

"What can you tell us about what happened here?" Superman asked, stepping in to take over the conversation.

"Not much, honestly. Mrs. Franks hasn't been formally interviewed yet, we were more concerned with treating her injuries and ensuring the shooter wasn't about to go on a spree."

'"Did you find him yet?"

Dick shook his head. "No, and Mrs. Franks unfortunately hasn't been of much help. According to her, she only caught a glimpse of the attacker. She described him as an older Caucasian man with white hair. Which, as I'm sure you can imagine-"

"Isn't very helpful," Batman cut in. "Have you checked the security footage from nearby buildings?"

The annoyed scowl that flashed across Dick's face didn't go unnoticed, yet it was gone quick enough that Batman could pretend it was about something else.

"We've seen officers out to ask around nearby stores and apartment buildings," he replied. "I'm not holding my breath though. Not many places in Bludhaven bother keeping their security cameras going, fewer still trust the police enough to just hand over their footage."

Batman let out a grunt. There were ways to get around that.

"Can we speak to Mrs. Franks now?" Superman asks.

"If she agrees." Dick nodded towards the ambulance, "Follow me."

As they approached, Batman's keen ears picked up the tail end of a conversation.

"...no interest in going to the hospital. Just give me some bandages and ibuprofen then allow me to go be treated by my private physician."

"Mrs. Franks, I don't suppose you'd been willing to answer a few questions?" Dick asked, cutting off whatever the ambulance worker was about to say.

Nico Franks looked notably different than she had weeks ago when she met with Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor. Injuries and torn clothes aside, the sharp, stylish pencil skirt suit and darker make-up emanated a different energy than the unthreatening wrap dress and subtle cosmetic scheme. It made her look more serious, for one; more like the high-powered businesswoman that was. More than that, the calm, collected, and mysterious woman he contended was replaced by one who was radiating anger and frustration in thick, palpable waves.

'No fear though, not ever after being shot,' Batman noted, taking in the annoyed twist of the woman's mouth. His eyes narrowed when he saw how the annoyance lessened when she turned to face Dick.

"Of course, Officer Grayson," she replied, her voice as calm and relaxed as if the two were simply exchanging pleasantries. "Though, happy as I am to be working with you, I must admit that I did not expect it to be so soon or under such circumstances."

"Yeah, funny how life works sometimes," Dick chuckled. When Batman gave him a questioning look, his eldest son just looked away and said nothing.

Franks' eyes slid from Dick to himself, one plucked eyebrow creeping up her forehead. "My company and I have tapped Officer Grayson here to head up a potential collaboration between Thousand Solutions and the BPD" she explained. Turning to Dick, she gave him a sly, teasing smile. "I'm still waiting for a response on my offer, by the way."

Dick laughed again. "Haven't had much time to consider the idea in the four hours since you gave it, Mrs. Franks."

"Ah, how disappointing. I hoped the answer would be an easy one."

"Getting back on task," Batman cut in, shooting a look that clearly said, 'we'll talk about this later." before turning back to the businesswoman. "I need you to explain what happened here."

Franks' eyes narrowed. "That is a rather presumptuous question for someone not with law enforcement to ask such a question. Why are you here? Your home city is Gotham, not Bludhaven. And while I've read about your professional relationship with the GPD, one certainly doesn't exist between you and the law informant of this fair city."

Batman bit the inside of his cheek. This was why dealing with common criminals was so much easier. He could just hang no-name, unimportant thugs off the side of a building until they gave up the information he wanted.

"We have reason to suspect that your attack has something to do with an ongoing investigation the League is conducting," he repeated, voice tense.

"How so?" Franks asked, tilting her head to the side, her dark, messy hair falling over her shoulder.

As if he could sense Batman's growing frustration, Superman stepped forward. "Please, ma'am. Any information you could offer us might be invaluable. Even if it turns out that this has nothing to do with our investigation, you'd still be helping get a dangerous man off the streets."

There were few things Batman admired -and sometimes envied- more about his colleague than Superman's ability to put people at ease. People trusted Superman by virtue of him simply existing. If the symbol on Batman's chest was designed to inspire fear and draw panicked gunfire away from his more vulnerable areas, then the one on Superman's chest was designed to inspire awe and hope.

"Hmmm... I suppose I can help you," Franks said after a moment of contemplation. "But first-"

"Mrs. Franks, please," the ambulance worker interrupted. "If you insist on refusing to go to the hospital then I need to tend to your leg immediately. I'm worried about the amount of blood you've lost."

The woman rolled her eyes. "If you must..."

Without another word, Franks swung her long, shapely legs up into the ambulance and leaned back into a reclining position, an action that caused her skirt to ride up higher on her thighs and the toned muscles of her exposed lower abdomen to ripple. Something that drew the eyes of every nearby man. Even in tense circumstances, one must appreciate a beautiful sight -even if it was scuffed and stained with blood.

"Get on with it," she instructed the paramedic supposed to be assisting her.

"O-oh, yes," the man stuttered, finally pulling his eyes away from Franks' mile-long legs inches from his face.

Professionalism returning, the paramedic carefully untied the makeshift, blood-soaked bandage that was tied around Franks' thigh. Batman inched closer; you could tell a lot by a bullet wound. When the bandage was fully pulled away, a fresh trickle of blood dripped down the woman's leg from a long, wide gash.

'That isn't a normal bullet wound.' Batman narrowed his eyes, 'What are you hiding, Franks?'

As the paramedic went to work cleaning the injury, Franks settled back into a more comfortable position before turning back to the heroes. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes... I'm afraid my story wouldn't help your investigation any. What happened to me seems to have been a simple mugging gone wrong."

I was walking through the parking garage when someone came up behind me and grabbed the strap of my purse. We struggled, I refused to let go and tried to elbow the man. Then... BANG! I heard a gunshot and felt pain in my leg. I fell to the ground but managed to turn just in time to see an older white man running off."

"Someone must have heard the gunshot and called the police," Dick said.

"Someone?" Superman asked. "You don't know who?"

Dick shrugged. "They didn't give their name, and the call only lasted a couple of seconds. Not unusual around here, I'm afraid."

Batman studied Franks' face, hoping to catch some sign of... something. When there was nothing but vague curiosity, he decided to push.

"What was a CEO doing wandering around a parking garage? Your company's headquarters is only five blocks away; there is no reason you'd be keeping your car here."

"Oh, I wasn't," Franks said easily. "There is a small restaurant nearby that I enjoy. The most direct route to and from there is through the garage."

"Really?" Dick asked. "We didn't see a sign for one when we were searching the area. But I guess that explains all the takeout boxes scattered around."

"Well, it isn't an official restaurant, if you understand what I mean. But the owners are good friends of mine, so I stop by every so often for a good lunch. And, yes, I actually lost all my leftovers in the struggle. Truly disappointing."

"Hmm, is it possible that they were the ones who called the police?" Superman asked.

"I suppose, they live close enough to have heard it. If you wish to speak to them, then knock on the blue basement door of the apartment building," Franks instructed. "I cannot promise they will be open to speaking with you, however."

"Yeah, I'm used to that," Dick grumbled, jotting down a quick note.

All of this was good information, yet Batman knew Franks still wasn't telling the whole truth. "Why didn't you drive here?"

Franks waved a hand around. "It's lovely out and I spend most of my days cooped up in an office. What is the purpose of this line of questioning? Is there reason to believe that my attack is anything more than an attempted mugging gone wrong?"

The woman's answers were short, clipped, and terse. Perhaps it would be understandable, Franks had been through what most would consider a traumatic ordeal, yet everything about the situation left Batman with ever-mounting suspicion.

'Still no fear,' he noted. 'Not a trace of it. She just wants to get rid of us.'

"You did a good job making a field bandage," the paramedic noted, seemingly obvious to the tension between Franks and the heroes. "It stopped you from losing a lot more blood."

"I'll be sure to pass that one to my personal physician," Franks said, giving a dry chuckle. After a moment, she added. "I've had practice. My early life was not easy, I'm afraid."

That fit with what Franks had told him during their lunch, though it continued the woman's frustrating vagueness with details. Her words weren't where Batman's focus was, however; instead, he narrowed in on the discarded make-shift bandage. Even crumpled and covered in blood, it was clear the fabric had been torn from the bottom of Franks' shirt, and yet...

'It doesn't match,' he realized. 'More fabric is missing than what was used to bandage her leg.'

"You were alone when you attacked?"

It was subtle, only perceptive to someone who spent painstaking years drilling themselves to pick up on such things, but the way Franks tensioned up at the question was undeniable. She looked up from watching the paramedic tend to her wound to glare at Batman.

Once more, no fear. Just anger.

"Yes," Franks said, cold and curt. "Completely."

Franks turned to Dick. "Are there any other questions I need to answer? I would like to get home. My husband is very worried about me."

"Is he on the way here?" Superman asked, glancing around the small crowd.

"No," the woman shook her head. "Tom rarely leaves the house. But he has called our private doctor, so I want to be getting on my way."

"Is she safe to drive?" Dick asked the parametric.

The man clicked his tongue. "I'm not going to recommend it. Mrs. Franks seems coherent and in none-the-worse for wear, but I worry a dizzy spell could hit while she is driving."

"I will thank you all not to speak of me as if I'm absent," Franks said sharply, shooting the paramedic a glare that had him red with embarrassment. "I will call the office and have a company driver come pick me up before driving me home. Is that acceptable?"

"Errr... I'd still rather you come to the hospital, Ma'am."

"And I'd rather have not been shot! Clearly, neither of us will be getting what we want today."

The Face that Nico Franks was putting on today was so different from the one she'd worn in front of Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor. Rather than effortlessly pleasant, charming, and harmless, this Nico Franks had a stern, commanding presence. She spoke with cool professionalism, though with a slight self-important sneer that many wealthy, so-called important people spoke with. In essence, she was putting on the airs of a woman who refused to be disobeyed or denied.

The parametric sighed but shrugged, giving Dick a, 'What can you do?' look. "I'll put a few more bandages on. After that, she's free to go."

"Okay then," he said. "You heard that man, Mrs. Franks. Just a few more questions then you can head home. I'm sure you've had a hard day."

"Indeed."

Silently, Batman nudged Superman before nodding in the direction of the Batplane signaling that it was time to go. The alien cocked an eyebrow, clearly surprised that the detective was ready to leave without further interrogations of Nico Franks. Batman said nothing in response, just turned without a word of acknowledgment to anyone, and left. After a moment, Superman followed.

Batman had gotten what he wanted. Or rather, he'd gotten what he could. Franks would tell them no more today. Together anything else out of her, they'd need leverage. Specifically, whomever she was going out of her way to hide.

When they were far enough away, Superman spoke up again. "You're right. She is hiding something. She's a good liar though, the best I've ever seen since you."

The Dark Knight decided not to acknowledge that last part. "That wasn't a bullet wound on her leg. If I had to guess, Franks slashed her own leg to make it look like she was grazed by a bullet. A bullet that will never be recovered by police searches."

"You think the attack was faked?"

"No, but it wasn't a mugging. And Franks wasn't alone."

"If not a mugging, then a hit?"

"If it is a professional hit, then it was a sloppy one," Batman said. "Then again... maybe that was the point."

Superman gave him a questioning look. "What are you thinking?"

"I have some theories. I'll let you know when I get further in the investigation."

The more Batman looked into the mystery surrounding Nico Franks, the more complicated it became. She was hiding someone, someone she was willing to be seen in public with yet also not tell the authorities about. Then there was the attack. People target the rich and powerful all the time, yet a deliberately failed assassination? That was a scare tactic.

As for who was behind it?

The Dark Knight had his suspicions but he knew where to start.

John Constantine woke up thirsty, confused by his surroundings, and with a shoulder that hurt like hell.

'Where the bloody hell am I?' he wondered, looking around.

It wasn't a large room. In fact, it wasn't even a bedroom at all. Instead, it looked like a study or library with tall, wooden shelves filled with books and various nicknacks. The floor was covered by a woven blood rug and across from him, passed a coffee table covered in loose paper, coasters, and magazines, there was a wrought iron pellet fireplace that put out a comfortably warm heat. The flames of the fire illuminated the dim room, letting John make out a collection of bizarrely large armchairs. John himself was laying on the room's only couch, though it too was so large that it was probably the size of a full bed.

'Comfortable too,' he muddled mind thought as John forced himself to sit up. 'Most comfortable thing I've slept on since...'

John pushed that thought away. 'C'mon, Johnny. Don't let yourself get distracted. Figure out where you are, what happened, and then how to get out of here.'

"Let's see..." he whispered to himself. John rubbed his forehead, "I... want to see if- Agh!"

This shoulder throbbed with a dull sort of aching pain effectively cutting off the young warlock's thoughts. Instinctively, John grabbed at his shoulder, sparking another throb of pain. As soon as he touched it, John's fingers slid over the soft texture of gauze bandages until they hit the collar of a t-shirt. A t-shirt that John hadn't realized he was wearing. A vastly oversized t-shirt that definitely wasn't his.

"That's right... I got fucking shot!"

Creak!

The sound of a door opening had John nearly jumping off the couch in surprise, an action that did nothing to help the pain throbbing through his body.

"That you did. Very foolishly too, I might add."

There, standing silhouetted in the doorway, was the damned woman whose kindness had been messing with John's head for the past week.