I know that this is a significantly shorter chapter, but dw, next chapter is double the normal chapter length so it evens out.
"How is this my fault?" The nerve! Tim shot out a hand to keep him from slamming into the window as Cass took a very sharp left turn. The Batmobile squealed in protest. "Did I convince the cops to leave early for lunch? 'S not like I was the one who killed them!"
"Timothy," Damian's voice was tinny but no less cautionary over the comms. Tim glanced in the rear-view mirror but couldn't see him. Damian was supposed to be following.
Tim ignored him.
Bruce's terse voice rung out over the speaker. "Zucco will know we've searched the mobsters now. We've lost the element of surprise."
"That's not my fault either! Damian was the one who knocked them out!"
Damian grit out. "I didn't know they weren't police."
"That's even worse! Right? B?"
Bruce was suspiciously silent.
"You're still not continuing on this case."
"Like you could stop me."
"I can and I will. You have attracted media attention. The last thing we need is Vale following you straight to a stake-out."
Tim scowled and leaned back against his seat. Throwing himself and Cass out the window had ripped some of his stitches. His side ached.
"I could lose Vale."
All three Bats scoffed. Tim crossed his arms.
"And…" Damian sounded like saying this was physically killing him. "We have another… problem."
"What?" Bruce asked, not happy.
"Do you remember my old schoolmate? Mia Mizoguchi."
Mia Mizoguchi? Tim remembered vaguely. She went to MetU for journalism last he heard. He remembered Damian and her hanging out sometimes—never in costume. And he remembered a bit from his photography days, her following Robin around. In the pictures Damian always looked annoyed.
"I do," Bruce said and he almost sounded amused.
Damian picked up on it too because he added, "don't become too excited, old man. She's a journalist now."
"I'm aware. She went to school for it, if I remember correctly."
Of course, B remembered.
Cass shook her head. She pressed mute (which gave Tim a heart-attack because he wasn't so sure that he wanted her to take a hand off the wheel), and said, "who is Mia Mizoguchi?"
"An old friend of Damian's. She used to hang out a lot with Robin and stick her nose into places it shouldn't be. I liked her, the few times we met. She's nice."
She turned off mute.
"Yes, and I'm sure you can guess who her boss is now."
Oh no.
B paused. "That isn't funny, Damian."
"Am I ever funny, Father?"
"No," Tim grumbled.
"Damian, intercept her. The last thing we need is Mia Mizoguchi getting in trouble with the mob."
"I'll try, Father."
"Try?" Cass asked.
Damian paused as he tried to figure out the best way to respond. Tim snickered.
"Mia is… unpredictable."
Cass huffed in laughter. So she could laugh.
"Inform Oracle. We don't want this to surprise her."
"Yes, Father," Damian grumbled. Also something he didn't want to do. It gave Tim instant gratification.
"And Tim…" Tim bit the inside of his cheek and scowled again. "Off the case."
Tim hated that it was actually a semi-sensible thing to do. Tim was going to be too recognizable, even if he wore a different suit. Especially if Zucco was already worried about Bats. Plus, Vale was probably already searching high and low for Tim, and somehow she always tended to find her prey eventually and Lois Lane the whole thing up. And worse, Mia actually already had a relationship with Nightwing. He would have to lay low. Tim hated laying low.
"Fine."
"But first, return your suit."
Screw you too, Tim wanted to say.
It didn't matter, anyway. He had to go back to the Cave to say 'so long' to Dick. But still, Bruce wasn't the boss of him anymore. Plus, what would he notice if Tim took some things. Friendly-like.
Cass skidded into the Cave—tires smoking. Steph was gone, she had work. Dick and Jason (still as Robin) were waiting for them. Dick was halfway through a sandwich. Tim shed (most) of his borrowed gear, which was hard under Cass' watchful eyes. He told Dick to be good for Mr. Wayne and gave him Tim's number so he could call or text whenever he needed to.
"But… aren't you living with Mr. Wayne?" Dick asked. "I thought he was your dad."
Tim winced. Jason stilled beside him.
"No, no. I'm an adult. I have my own home."
"Oh," Dick deflated. "Okay."
"But if you ever want to talk, just call, okay?"
"Okay."
Dick gave Tim one last hug, and Tim headed out. He took one of B's cars. He'd leave it in a Wayne Enterprises parking lot and bus back to his apartment.
Or not. Bruce had had a point—Tim couldn't do anymore work on the Graysons' case. But that didn't mean he couldn't poke around the Court. Even if they weren't the real Court, they were still a relatively secret society (or pretended to be), and Tim wouldn't mind a tail there.
After all, the last thing that secret societies wanted were to be brought into the light—and Vicki Vale was very good at not shutting up.
Tim headed back to his place after lunch. He'd picked up a bunch of things on the way home, plus he wanted to retape himself inside. He'd started leaking during his last Ebay buy which had been awkward and had almost folded the deal (usually when someone starts bleeding when you're buying something sketchy off ebay or craigslist, either the person you'd buying from shoots you, says fuck it and gets shot by someone else, or the deal ends right then and there, it's just common sense).
He'd walked up the steps to his apartment while checking the status on his wound. That was why he didn't see her until too late.
He'd jinxed himself earlier by thinking about her. With cameras swinging their predatory eyes onto him and an entourage of News 1 reporters and cubs from the Gazette to prop her up, Vicki Vale stuck a microphone in his face.
"Tim Drake-Wayne, I'm almost offended," Vicki said, "after that scoop you gave me two years ago-"
"-by not notifying me now that you've returned to Gotham-"
Pru shouldered her bag, gaze temporarily drawn to the breaking news on the train's TV.
"Gotham Union Station," the train lady hummed, in time with Vicki Vale's voice.
"-it's almost as if-"
"-you don't like me anymore." Ra's al Ghul threw the telephone, not caring where it landed. One of his lackeys caught it. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.
"Anything to say for the cameras?"
"I will not fail again, Masters."
"No," the Court agreed. "You won't."
The Talon focused on his target. Before him now, a sitting duck waiting for the plucking.
"Shit," Tim hissed.
"I don't know what to do with him, Cassie," Bruce murmured. He was anxious, and worried, and upset. None of with which were things that Cass could help. Cass knew that sometimes what Bruce needed most was someone to listen, so Cass sat, and pretended to listen while she worked through trying to read the titles on the bookshelves behind him. Not because she didn't care, but because she already knew what he was going to say. He'd said it before.
"He keeps pushing me. It's as if he knows just how to-"
Bruce's phone beeped. Bruce cursed and opened up the notification. It was a news-clip. Breaking news. The current home of Tim Drake-Wayne, the Red Hood.
Cass hated that name. The Red Hood.
She could hear Tim's nervous snaps, and Bruce stood immediately.
"They found him," he told her, but she knew that. "I have to go."
Cass nodded.
"Stay here. Keep an eye on the kids."
Cass nodded—but she didn't think she needed to.
Bruce swept away. Cass stood. She stretched, starting with her neck and going down her back. She'd be sitting in one place almost all night.
Cass stayed in costume, positioning herself in place outside the living room where Robin (as Jason) and Dick Grayson were. She swung up onto the ornate mouldings and perched there. Alfred waved to her (and she waved back).
Inside, Dick and Jason were playing video games. Jason let Dick beat him. Alfred brought in dinner and they took a break. Jason stood and followed Alfred out. They were speaking about Batman—that much was clear. Jason was never happy when he spoke about Batman anymore. Cass leaned back against the wall. He didn't get what he wanted to know from Alfred—probably about where Batman was now. Jason resented having to babysit Dick. Cass internally rolled her eyes at that.
There was a reason that Batman had told Cass to watch them, not just Dick Grayson. He didn't trust Jason anymore. Hadn't since three months ago, when Jason had almost killed a man on patrol.
Almost, being the important word. Almost.
Cass had almost killed many people.
It was concerning. Cass understood. She sympathized. But Batman wasn't going to get his old Robin back by tightening his leash.
Jason returned to Dick and passed him his controller.
"I've got some homework to do. Play on Storymode for a while, okay?"
"Okay." Dick placed the controller back into its charging case. Jason pulled out a book. Cass knew Jason didn't have any homework (he would never have been allowed to go to the circus last night if he had) but, everyone deserved a rest now and then.
Alfred's feet stopped right behind her. Cass turned. Alfred tossed up something wrapped. Cass caught it and gave Alfred a nod in acknowledgment. Alfred returned it and walked off to take care of… something or other. He did things, Cass knew, but what exactly was still a mystery. Someone couldn't spend all their time doing laundry, could they?
Cass nimbly unwrapped the small candy and stuck it in her mouth. Mm. Bubblegum.
"Jason," Dick asked, putting down his game. Jason didn't look up from his book. Cass would have to ask Steph if she could read it too. Maybe she and Jason could talk about it.
He never talked about anything with her anymore.
"Hmm?"
"Where is Mr. Wayne?"
"Grown-up thing," Jason lied. He flicked a hand, "dinner with a lady friend."
Dick scrunched his nose up. "Ew."
"Yeah."
Dick fell silent. He cocked his head at Jason—entire body turning inquisitive. Cass inched closer.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" he asked.
Jason didn't answer—Cass knew immediately. But when a child asked you that, you answered.
So, begrudgingly, Jason said, "no."
"Oh." Dick paused again, thinking. "Boyfriend?" he asked.
Cass hid a laugh.
Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick over the top of his book. "Don't you want to play your video game? B won't let you after eight. Remember, you have a bedtime."
Dick scowled at Jason. "So do you."
"No, I don't."
"Alfred said so."
"Nu-uh."
"Are you saying Alfred lied?"
Jason pursed his lips. Jason did have a bedtime on school nights, from what Cass knew, but that bedtime was four AM. Which… was not very much bedtime. Cass was glad that she'd never had a bedtime—well, as such.
But Jason couldn't say that Alfred lied because then the kid would never listen to him. And Alfred would give him a stern glare—because Alfred hadn't.
"… No."
"So you do have a bedtime. When's yours?"
"At Nunya o'clock."
Nunya?
"Will Mr. Wayne be back before bedtime?"
Jason hesitated. Cass tensed. She knew that there was no attacker around, but poor, little Dick Grayson's sorrow made her want to fight someone anyway.
She was going to have to get used to having a little one around like this. Was this how Batman had chosen to take in Cass? He saw the same thing in her?
"I don't know."
"Oh." Dick shook his head. "Never-mind."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Dick lied. He shifted away from Jason and looked back at the game, but he wasn't really paying attention. One didn't need to be Cass to understand that.
Jason moved closer to him, genuinely concerned.
Jason was a good person. Cass' chest warmed.
He and Steph were always too-much-feeling people to really do what the Bats did. Cass was always worried about them. Especially after Tim Drake-Wayne.
Cass hated to even think about it. So, she didn't.
She fit right in with Nightwing and Batman. But she was trying to change. That was what this was all about.
"Dick, what is it? You can tell me."
Dick's voice was too quiet to hear, but from Jason's expression Cass knew what he was saying. It was something about his old life. Something about his parents and bedtime, but she couldn't infer what. But Jason replied and Cass felt hollow inside.
"Well… I could do it. Tuck you in."
Cass closed her eyes. Imagined a life with a bedtime and a father who tucked her in at night. Imagined waking up and going to school or sitting on the couch and reading a book for homework. She imagined a kiss on the forehead before she fell asleep. A warm glass of milk.
She could do that now. She could have that. Could ask for a glass of milk, or have Bruce or Alfred tuck her in. She could do anything.
"Would you? You-you," Dick flushed, "you don't think its silly? Or like I'm a baby?"
"Of course not! Can I tell you a secret?"
Dick nodded. He scooted closer to Jason. Jason held out his pinky. "Pinky promise you won't tell anyone?"
Dick pinky promised. Cass nodded. The most sacred kind.
"Sometimes Bruce-uh, Mister Wayne-tucks me in at night too."
This wasn't entirely true either. Batman watched them. Cass would stay with him some nights, watching. Sometimes he would brush his fingers over Jason's forehead, or fiddle with his blanket. Cass also knew that he usually woke Jason up, but that Jason pretended he hadn't so he could feel it.
Used to.
Bruce hadn't tucked Jason in at night in a while. He was always busy or too tired or…
Or now, he had a new fear. Not the fear that his son might disappear in his sleep and be gone forever, but that he might come back, worse than before. That it would all be Batman's fault. For not doing his job. For not doing enough.
"Really?" Dick grinned and snickered. Jason pretended to pout at him.
"Hey! You said you wouldn't laugh!"
"No I didn't~" Dick giggled. Jason ruffled his hair.
Dick turned back to his video game. Instead of going back to his book, Jason sat next to him and watched.
"Does he tuck in Tim too?" Dick asked. "At his home?"
"Uh, I don't know," Jason said, casually as he could. "You'll have to ask Tim."
"Did he tell you and Mr. Wayne what he found out about my parents' murder? Robin wouldn't tell me."
"He didn't tell me. I don't really know anything about that type of stuff. But I'm sure they told Bruce everything important."
"I hope he kills Tony Zucco."
Jason froze beside Dick.
"What?"
Dick turned his soulful blue eyes onto Jason. He was serious. He really wanted Tim to kill Tony Zucco. This was bad. Very bad. Cass needed to speak to Batman. Tim shouldn't be around Dick Grayson anymore. Dick Grayson was a child! Cass understood wanting revenge. Wanting Justice. Wanting death. She did understand, but this was the type of thing that could lead a kid astray. If Jason didn't tell him off now, Dick Grayson would never learn. Like she hadn't learned.
"Will Batman and Tim kill Zucco?"
Jason didn't know how to respond. Eventually, he said, "No. Batman doesn't kill."
"I thought Tim did. Wasn't that what the TV lady said? That he killed a bad guy before and went to jail?"
"Yes. It was a long time ago. You wouldn't remember it."
Dick nodded to himself. "Good."
"Dick, kid, you know that killing is wrong, right? That was why Tim went to jail. Because bad people go to jail. Which is exactly what Batman is going to do with whoever killed your parents."
Dick stared at Jason, his mind processing many things quickly. "No."
Jason didn't understand. "What, no?"
Dick Grayson burst into tears. "No!"
"Woah, woah, woah, hey! Dick, everything is going to be okay! It's okay-"
Alfred. Cass needed to get Alfred-or-or something. They knew how to calm down Dick when he was upset. Cass dropped down to the floor.
Jason dropped to the floor beside him and pulled him into a hug. "Shh, shh, kid. I know, I know."
"He killed my Mommy and Daddy!"
"I know, I know."
"He should die too! I want him to die!"
"I know, kid. I know." Jason held Dick tighter while he sobbed.
"I miss them!" Dick gasped through tears. "I miss them so much."
Jason rocked back and forth, humming to Dick gently as he stroked Dick's back. Cass watched, unable to tear herself away. She knew it was helping Dick. On some level it was helping him, to be held, to be rocked. Cass hugged herself.
They were orphans. Now, with Cain dead… even Cass was alone. Except she wasn't. They weren't. None of them. Batman had formed his own family—a true family. They would all help Dick Grayson. He was part of that family—even if only until Batman could prove Jack Haly's innocence.
"He deserves it," Jason whispered. He continued to rock Dick. "He does."
Sometimes Cass' ability to read people terrified even herself. She could understand whether people lied or told the truth. She could see how deep their desires ran. Could understand thoughts they didn't even know they had.
So now, she looked at Jason.
Watch them, Batman had asked her. Watch them.
Watch them mean what they say.
Jason had been teetering (Cass liked that word, teetering. She liked rolling it between her teeth, liked the way it bloomed on her tongue) over an edge for some time now. A worrying edge. One that Cass knew she wasn't alone in noticing. And so far he'd told the truth, when questioned. He hadn't known how hard he'd hit that one perp. He hadn't meant to let that scumbag fall.
He hadn't, he hadn't, he hadn't.
Now, Cass watched as he did.
Jason squeezed Dick tighter. "He does," he whispered and Cass watched.
No. No more watching. She would not watch once more while someone she loved—part of her new family was led down a path they shouldn't.
We don't kill.
Cass sunk back into the shadows. She'd wait, and she'd watch for anything more tonight before they went to bed. But afterward, Cass had a stop to make.
Tim had spent an unhealthy amount of his life in sewers, so why should that stop in his second life?
While Gotham sewers were pretty standard for the superstitious and cowardly types, most of Tim's vigilante work seemed to take place there too. And while Vicki Vale had a helicopter and wasn't afraid to use it, getting her kitten heels damp was still something she avoided—here, of everywhere in Gotham, Tim was safe. So, stuffing his nose, Tim had gone below ground after profusely apologizing to Doris. Doris—in true Gothamite fashion—had told him that she didn't mind if he wore tights and a cowl (that was no one's business but his own) but she'd be raising his rent for hazard fees. And if that money came from the Great Wayne Fortune, she wouldn't be opposed. Not sure how to explain that he was persona non grata among Waynes, Tim elected to pay her a tidy sum and vacate.
He'd decided to make his home in the tunnel junction under Gotham Academy (which, ironically, had been introduced to him through Damian and nosy Mia Mizoguchi). He'd bought a second-hand tablet (before his outing) that had just needed the charging port replaced. With a bit of handy work, some discarded cables, and electrical tape he fixed it right up and spliced it into the internet feeding up into the Academy.
He'd grabbed an old mattress and bleached it to death. With a sleeping bag for a sheet, he set himself up.
After furnishing his new home, Tim had decided to do some research into the Court of Owls. Bruce might not have believed they were the real deal, but either way, they needed investigating. B had been right—Tim couldn't work the mob case. But from what they'd uncovered so far, it seemed unlikely that the Court and Zucco were in any way connected. Secret societies were very good at being secret, the mob didn't exactly seem their style.
On the other hand, they'd revealed themselves twice within two days, and had sent a Talon out in the middle of the circus to send a message to Tim. Something about the whole situation rubbed Tim wrong.
The internet didn't have anymore information than Jason had about the Court. Nothing about who the Court members might be other than rich Gothamites. No proven sightings. The word about what had happened at Haly's had gotten out, and on a few message-boards theories about steampunk-wraiths who had appeared at Haly's and threatened the Batman before disappearing were circling. Clearly, any stories from people who'd been there had already been distorted beyond anything useful.
The Owl had said that the Drake seat had been empty since before Tim's father. What Tim really wanted to do was break into Drake Manor and see if he could dig anything up on his family history but he wasn't sure what had happened to the Manor since his death, nor any assets or documents related to Drake Industries. And worse, to answer those questions he'd have to ask Bruce.
Or… wait. Maybe… could he ask Tamara Fox?
Tim winced at the thought. She'd been pissed enough after he'd killed the Joker. Less because the prick was dead, and more because now she was legally an accomplice. Since he'd taken full responsibility, more to protect his friends than Fox (honestly, he'd forgotten about her), she'd been fine. She'd sent him care packages—or, Wayne Enterprises had—but she'd also sent him a letter while in jail to never force her to do something like that again.
She probably wouldn't be happy to help. Well, he could always break into W/E. That couldn't be too hard.
He always wanted to head back to Old Wayne Tower. He had yet to figure out the connection other than that it was built around Gotham's founding by Bruce's ancestor. He'd been rich too. An architect. Built like, half the city. So why there specifically? There was no denying that there was some connection—but Bruce had sworn they weren't real. If they weren't, they why would impostors choose the Tower specifically? To give them a thread of authenticity? Here we are, a secret society of rich people that's always been here, meeting in a place built by one of the richest families in Gotham? But then, why reach out to Tim at all? The general public didn't know Tim had been trained by the League, but maybe being Robin was enough? Maybe they meant to trap him so they could brainwash him into becoming a Talon? And that was another thing, if they were really poseurs, wouldn't their Talons be normal-killable? Not able to jump from fourteen stories and still be alive? And how did that even work? What kept them alive?
"Jesus Christ!" Tim gasped when someone dressed in black appeared at the edge of his vision. Tim had half-drawn his staff before he realized who it was. Even bats could get surprise-Bat-itized.
Tim relaxed. "Batgirl. Is he right behind you?"
Batgirl crossed her arms. In the dim light from Tim's tablet, she was barely more than shadows. "No," she said.
"I'd offer you a refreshment or something, but I just moved in."
"Don't want."
"Ohhkay… then, uh, nice to see you?"
"Robin is going to kill Tony Zucco."
What? "When? How?" Tim laid his tablet down and dusted himself off. He stood and grabbed for his weapon. "Where's B? Shouldn't you guys be trying to stop him?"
Cass paused. Then said, "no. Not now. But soon. And you need to stop him. To tell him not to."
"Wait, not now? When? How do you know?"
When Cass spoke she sounded frustrated. Tim hadn't known she could. "I do."
"How?"
"I can… tell. I know."
"What? Like, mind reading?"
"No. I can't explain. I use your," she waved to Tim's body, "being. I know through that."
Like body reading? That… actually explained a lot. But where had Cass learned something like that? Definitely not Bruce. He was still really bad (relatively) at that.
Cass' words distracted him from his musing. "You need to stop him," Cass repeated.
"What do I have to do with any of this?"
"Because you told him he could!"
"No, I-" Tim rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Of course, to someone who read body language, it would seem that way. But Jason couldn't actually read Tim like Cass could. He couldn't think Tim would condone this. Tim didn't! Tim specifically wasn't killing anymore! New blanket rule. He'd been very clear about that. Well, except the maybe-Talons or whatever. But that didn't count, they were virtually unstoppable and trying to kill him first, so! "I've told him not to kill. That I won't kill, anymore! What more do you want? If he's not listening to Bruce, he won't listen to me either!"
Cass didn't seem to either understand or care. She took a few steps into his space. Tim backed up to the wall.
"Fix it," she snapped through gritted teeth. "Fix him! We don't kill."
"How? You want me to lecture him? Because that'll help."
"I don't care! Just do it! It's your fault!" She slammed her hands around either side of Tim. She meant to scare him, but both of them knew she wasn't going to hurt him.
Not yet, at least.
Tim kept his voice as calm as he could. "You care about him. That's clear. But he's growing up, and if you can't stop him, I can't understand what I could do."
Cass stepped back. She stared at him. He waited, in case she was still processing what he said.
"Please," she asked. "You're still…" her voice faltered. "You're still Robin."
He didn't think she meant for it to hurt. For her to touch on the one thing that still pained him. But she had. She'd said the magic freakin' words, and now he had no choice.
"Fine. But… can we do something first? There's somewhere I want to check out. He's not going to-not today?" No, Cass wouldn't have left him if he was.
Cass shook her head. "No. He is watching Dick Grayson."
Okay. That gave Tim some time. Tim grabbed his gear and they trudged off.
"So, are you like, a Gothamite or something?" Maybe Cass knew something about the not-Court.
Cass shook her head. "No, I-" she paused and cocked her head.
"What is it?"
Cass stayed still for a moment before shaking her head. "Not about us. No, I'm new here."
"Really?" Tim didn't actually know anything about Cass.
"Yes. There was a… bad thing that happened to Gotham, a few years ago. The ground moved."
"An earthquake?"
"Yes. Forgot the word. I was in Gotham and Oracle needed help."
"Oracle…?"
"Stephanie Brown."
"Oh. Oh, right. Okay."
Tim had to pick up his pace to keep in step with Cass. She walked swiftly. "Afterward, I was given Batgirl." Cass brought a hand to the symbol across her chest. "It means everything."
Something about the gesture softened Tim's heart.
"I felt the same way about Robin."
"So does Jason. Also Steph."
"Yeah." Made Tim feel kinda shitty now, that he'd been a bit mad about it. He'd had other things to deal with, and he knew—he'd always known—that Robin was bigger than him. Was more. But it… he didn't want to explain it, to put that feeling into words. Being Robin was the best thing that had ever happened to him. That ever would. Robin was the world. Robin was magic.
He supposed for Cass, Batgirl was the same thing.
"I've looked. I can't find your secret identity."
"Don't have one."
"What?"
"Don't have one," Cass repeated. She shrugged.
"How-how can you not have one?—right here," they turned right. They'd have just crossed main street now. Soon they'd be by Old Wayne Tower. "Didn't you have a life befor-"
Cass clamped a hand over Tim's mouth and covered his flashlight.
Tim stayed frozen against the sewer wall. Ich. These walls weren't wet, but still, the idea that he could be touching them was gross enough. They were used sometimes, after all.
"Someone is following us," Cass breathed.
Tim had got that. They listened, but Tim couldn't hear anything. Not breathing, nor footsteps. There was the trickling of pipes and the sound of water rushing by. Tim closed his eyes, but the only person he could sense was Cass.
She let go of him slowly. "I can't… tell where they are. Yet."
Tim pulled himself off of the wall. A dusty residue coated his hands. Frowning he looked down at them, shining the flashlight. Something was wrong about it. He looked up and squinted.
Since he spent a lot of his time in the sewers, Tim had once gone down the equally most boring and interesting Wikipedia rabbit hole. The sewer system had been built in the late seventeen hundreds. Had been flooded and breached so many times that it was now the most well protected and solidly built sewer system in the world. Something about people always poisoning the water supply or whatever. Also—Tim dragged a finger across the dusty residue on the tunnel. He dug his thumbnail in and watch it leave a mark—he'd learned that almost the entire system was made out of granite. Which was not only interesting because it was an expensive rock at the time, but because the machinery and art required to carve it in the eighteenth century would have been exorbitantly expensive. It had been the crowning jewel of Gotham's wealth—funded by the richest of the Gotham Elite. Even where they shit was worth more than anything anyone else could afford.
Tim's blood turned cold.
This wasn't granite.
This was marble.
"Ca-"
The Court of Owls watches, watches all the time.
"Behind you!" Cass snapped. Tim spun, weapon and flashlight up but instead of an enemy, Tim saw…
Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.
"Mizoguchi?"
Mia's eyes went wide. She covered her mouth in a scream.
They see you at your hearth.
Cass turned. She lunged.
And they see you in your bed.
"Batgirl!" Tim shouted. He reached for her, blinking the dust of the destroyed wall from his eyes.
Speak not a whispered word about them.
Tim tried to scream. He wanted to make sure the Talon didn't see Mia. For Mia to just run! But the Talon had its claws around his mouth. The dust was everywhere. He struggling to breathe. The air was choked with dust.
"Tim Drake, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die."
The Talon dragged Tim and Cass down, and away. The flashlight splashed into the sewage below them, and everything went dark.
Or they'll send a Talon for your head!
