The Boys in Blue

Story 6: Code Phrase

"I've got an assignment for you two," said Chief Redhorn.

Dick and Jason stood in front of the chief's desk; one skeptically with furrowed brows, one indifferently with folded arms. Redhorn himself cradled a mug of coffee in one hand and with the other turned his computer monitor towards them. Detective Burns stood a few feet away, to the side of the desk, with an unhappy scowl. Dick eyed warily. The man was not, shall one say, their biggest fan.

"Are you sure these two so-called officers are ready for this kind of work?" asked Bruns before the chief could explain the assignment.

"Are you sure this so-called Detective is necessary?" Jason retorted.

Breath in the gray skies, breath out blue, Dick reminded himself. He didn't need to start a fight over what was likely going to be their first real police assignment. Monitoring parking meters and handing out traffic tickets didn't count. But the way Burns and Redhorn were talking, it looked like he and Jason just might be moving on to bigger fish.

"I think they can handle it," said Redhorn easily. "And Todd, I'll thank you not to antagonize Burns today."

Jason shrugged wordlessly, expression anything but apologetic.

"What's going on chief?" Dick asked, hoping to bring them back on track.

Redhorn tapped the top of the computer monitor indicating they should read what was on the screen. "As you know, the Steel Hand was taken into custody recently. But his drug empire is still running in the woodwork. We've already shut down operations at The Pirate's Parrot, but there are still a bunch of smaller depots around the city. We got an anonymous phone-call this morning asking for a couple of officers to check out the Chaos Club in the dells. This contact supposedly can lead us to a small drug workshop under the dancefloor."

Dick glanced at Jason. His head was spinning as he processed the information. A drug workshop and depot under the Chaos Club? How did we miss that?

"Anonymous phone-call?" said Jason turning back to the chief, "and let me guess, muffled voice. Handkerchief over the phone, right?"

Redhorn looked a little impressed. "You're right, it's fishy. Could be a trap."

"A very cliché trap," Dick observed dryly.

Jason snorted. "No shit. Ok, let me see if I can figure the rest of this out. Might be a trap. So you want to send me and Dick in undercover. Buddy style. Since we're talking the Chaos Club, I'm guessing we get this one cuz we're younger than the rest of you old geezers and we've got the best chance of blending into the crowd."

"You have two point," said Redhorn, "would you like to try for ten?"

"And we're the ones that not only snagged the Steel Hand in the first place, but we sent Batman back to Gotham in style. You know we've got the balls to pull this off," Jason finished.

"The boy's a genius," said Redhorn. He turned to Detective Burns, still brooding in the corner, and gave him a confident smile.

"Wasn't that hard to figure out," huffed the Detective, "I still say we give this one to Harman and Jenson."

This time Dick butted in before Jason sent them both into hot water. "How do we recognize our contact?"

"With the code phrase," answered Redhorn simply.

"Which is…?" Dick asked.

Redhorn gave him an amused smirk, the corners of his silver goatee twitched as he seemed to struggle with some internal joke. "It's 'pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?' Your contact will answer, 'I've been to London to visit the queen."

Dick and Jason exchanged a look.

"You've got to be shitting me," said Jason.

Later:

Dick parked the old Chevy—which now only played Justin Bieber songs indiscriminately—a street over from the Chaos club. And because he was a good law abiding citizen, he put a few dollars in the parking meter. He and Jason walked the rest of the way to the club.

It was a nice late spring night. The sky above was a deep midnight blue, dotted with bleary white stars that poked out through the streetlamp city haze. Pedestrians milled about slowly or clumped together joking and laughing their way down the street, some no doubt headed towards the club.

Dick ran a hand through his slicked back hair and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up a little higher on his arms. Jason had told him to get rid of the black button down and the tight jeans, but Dick didn't need fashion advice from a man who's closet considered of two uniforms, a leather jacket, and a Wonder Woman tee shirt. If you take the ten-minute max they had to get ready into account, Dick would say he looked pretty darn good. At least he put some effort into it. Which was more than he could say for Jason who didn't even bother to brush his hair.

Arriving at the club, the bouncer checked their IDs and sent them inside. Just inside the door, Dick turned to Jason who shrugged off his jacket and draped it over his forearm. His brother was already in work-mode, more or less, scanning the crowd for their contact. Or girls. Whichever he found first if Dick knew Jason Todd as well as he thought he did.

The Chaos Club was a little hubbub of nightlife and excitement in the otherwise dead two blocks of dilapidated real estate known colloquially as the dells. The club had once been a baked beans factory of all things, the only evidence of which being the massive brick chimney emanating from the front of the roof. Inside, the place had been completely gutted—perhaps not improved from an aesthetic point of view—but gutted. The red brick walls were covered up by graffiti and scaffolding, the floor painted over in metallic black, and the ceiling strung wall to wall with pulsating red and blue and pink and yellow lights.

One the stage by the back wall, the DJ pressed a hand to his headset. Eyes closed, smiling, bobbing his head to a remix of Shakira. The dance floor was crowded with the throng of bodies. Steam curled under the colored lights as they moved together.

"See anything useful?" Jason asked as they began to work their way around the fringes of the dancers.

Dick pulled out his phone and scrolled through his list of probable contacts. "I'm guessing our contact is on the payroll here if they know this place as well as Redhorn says." He pointed to the bartender. "That's Rose Troy. People call her Mixy." He pointed to a man seated at the end of the bar. "That's Ronald Fogarty. He's the DJ on Mondays and Wednesdays. And that's Pete Stone, Mixy's on and off again boyfriend."

Jason grabbed the phone out of his hand and began scrolling through the list. "Where the hell did you get this?"

Dick gave him a satisfied smirk. "Nightwing got it. It's called homework. You should try it some time."

"How did you even have time for all this? I was with you all day!"

"Hey, the police department has computers too, ya know. I did my homework while you were playing Packman."

Jason's face turned bright red as he shoved the phone back at Dick's chest. "As good as your list is, it really doesn't narrow things down for us," he pointed out.

Dick sighed. "That's where some good old-fashioned detective work and instincts are gonna come in handy."

Jason rolled his eyes.

They scanned the room together, eyes roaming over everything and everyone. Dick was no Batman but he had keen eyes and sharp mind. He remembered the faces from his research and pasted them over the real people in his mind. What were they doing? Where were they're eyes focused? Where any of them armed? Who was here? Who wasn't? Who was scheduled for today? Who wasn't? By process of elimination, Dick managed to cross several names off his list fairly quickly.

I think I'll start with Mixy. She knows everyone and her name isn't on the schedule for another hour. Looks like she's picked up an extra shift for some reason.

Dick was about to start making his way over to the bar when Jason spoke at his side.

"It's her," said Jason.

Dick followed his brother's eyes over to a woman sitting at a lone wooden table in a dark corner of the club. She was as far away from the DJ as she could get. Dick could sympathize. Her bright green hair, black at the roots, hung loosely in front of her face like a curtain. She scowled into her martini glass as she ignored the phone vibrating on the table in front of her. She looked like a goth power-puff girl cosplayer. The whole long wolf thing might, might, be a reason to suspect her. But Dick trusted his instincts. And this one was a no go. Hot to be sure. But a waste of time.

"It's not her," said Dick.

"It's definitely her," Jason insisted. He shoved his jacket into Dick's hands. "Hold that, will you."

"Come on. Use your brain," said Dick.

"I am."

"Your other brain."

"Very funny, Dick."

Well, I warned him. Dick found a comfortable spot to watch as Jason walked over to the Goth power-puff girl. And just as he suspected, things did not go quite as planned. The only way Jason could recognize their contact for sure was to use the password. One does not usually go around asking, "pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?" And one is not usually accustomed to people using that particular phrase to start up a conversation.

Dick pulled out his phone and started recording, for blackmail purposes of course. When Jason finally got close enough to her to say the password, Dick's amusement hit the roof. Goth Power-puff slapped him in the face and stormed off. Dick shook with laughter at his brother's stunned expression. Poor Jason was down for the count. His face turned sour a minute later when he spotted Dick and the phone.

Jason was roguishly charming, if a little hard to get to know. But flirting wasn't a skill he'd picked up either from Batman or the inmates in Arkham. Give him a password like "pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?" and what other outcome was there?

"Delete that video right now," snapped Jason when he finally made his way back to Dick who was by this point laughing so hard he could hardly stand. "For fuck sake, Dick, you're an adult!"

"Subtle," Dick laughed, "you're gonna tip off the bad guys for sure, but I don't care! That was gold!"

"Oh ha, ha. Ya know, it's gonna be pretty hard to laugh with your teeth scattered all over the floor. Just keep that in mind."

That only made Dick laugh harder while his brother just stood there waiting for him to stop. After a minute or two, he wiped the tears from his eyes and straightened up. He passed the jacket back to Jason and make his way to the bar. Before Jason's little escapade he had been about to embarrass himself by attempting to make contact with Mixy. But unlike Jason, he had his reasons.

He took a seat on one of the barstools and leaned forward on his elbows. Mixy waved to him, indicating she's be with him in a minute. Dick took the time to study her. He really didn't feel like being wrong. Mixy was pretty. Kind of like the girl next door—light blue tank top, no make-up, short brown ponytail—nothing like the rest of the girls out on the dance floor. She was vivacious he noticed, but also a bit of a poker player. She smiled brightly at everyone and talked amiably with strangers, but she was also very professional. She kept her shoulders back as she passed drinks over the counter giving herself a little distance from the customers.

Mixy kept eyeing him as she made the drinks for a group of guys loitering at the other side of the bar. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe she was looking for her contact. Or maybe she just thought he was cute. Dick honestly couldn't tell.

Finally, she was free. Mixy set the dirty glasses under the counter and gave him a smile that reached her big brown eyes. "What can I get for you stranger?" she asked.

"I'll take a Corona Extra if it's not too much trouble," he said.

"No trouble at all." Mixy grabbed the bottle of beer from a refrigerator under the counter and slid it over to him. "Anything else?"

Here goes, Dick thought. "I don't know. Depends on if you know the second half of: 'Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?"

"Sorry, what?" Confusion blossomed on her face.

Well shit. Strike two. Dick had to play it off. "Would you believe that's the code phrase? And I'm just a spy in a hurricane looking for the queen?"

"Ah," she said as if figuring something out, "blind date?"

"You could say that."

"Well, I'll give you points for originality, Spy-boy. Say if I was the queen, what would your message be?"

Oh so she's gonna flirt with me. Dick didn't miss the way her ex-boyfriend was watching them. Great. How to get out of this one gracefully. "Now, that's top secret." He smiled at her around the bottle of beer raised to his lips.

"Hmm…well I hope you find the queen," she said.

"All women are queens. I'm just looking for the one the knows the code phrase."

"You're adorable."

Mixy went back to work. That was close. Dick took another sip of beer. So much for instinct. Oh shit, here comes Jason. Dick braced himself for Jason's teasing as his brother saddled up the bar beside him.

"How come you didn't get your face slapped?" Jason demanded.

Dick winked at him. "That's my superpower." Jason growled. He took the beer out of Dick's hand and chugged the whole thing. Dick decided to take pity on his brother. "You gotta read the girl. For example, you can figure out what a criminal is thinking just by watching their body language. Apply the same principles to your flirting game. You gotta know when to go for it and when to back down. When to listen and when to talk. Also, you have a nice smile. Use it once and a while."

"I doesn't work like that for me. I don't know what to say," Jason admitted leaning forward on the bar so that Dick couldn't see his face. "And before you try to turn this into a bonding moment, just remember those teeth scattered on the floor like I mentioned earlier."

"Well neither do I," said Dick, "I don't have smooth things to say just floating around in my head. I goof things up all the time. I'm just good at covering my butt and laughing at myself."

Jason finally looked up at him. "You do have some go awful pick-up lines."

But Dick wasn't insulted. He laughed. "I do."

"And yet still the girls still fall for you. Everyone does."

Dick needed to lighten the mood gently. They needed to get back on track and fine their contact. "You know, I'll let you have some of my cheesy pick-up lines. Family rates." Jason snorted a short laugh. "This one's marked down just for you: are you made of Kryponite? Because you make me go weak at the knees."

Jason let out an actual laugh. "God, you're embarrassing. I'll pass on your shitty pick-up lines."

"Oh, like you could do better," Dick challenged.

As per usual, Jason took the bait. He sat up straighter and appeared to be thinking up an answer. Finally, something came to him. "Ok, I got something for that girl who…the goth girl: why are you sitting here like an envelope without an address on it?"

"Jason," he inhaled, "that is not a pick-up line."

"But it's less embarrassing." Jason seemed to think a little more on that. "For me anyways."

Dick refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose. "We'll work on it."

Jason changed the subject. "So, what now? We can't just keep going up to people and saying, 'pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?"

"I've been to London to visit the queen," said a gruff voice at Dick's opposite elbow. His head snapped around and Jason't face went blank.

DIck recognized the speaker instantly from his list. Thaddeus Tymon. The janitor. He was a short squat man in his mid-twenties with shaggy blond hair and acne scarring on his cheeks. Easy to overlook in this crowd. Dick could have facepalmed. They were lucky he wasn't out to kill them right now because they'd both be dead. While Dick and Jason were busy making fools of themselves, Thaddeus had been watching them, waiting to be contacted. Well, it's official. I've lost my touch.

Thaddeus leaned around his broom handle and looked Dick in the eye. "You're a detective?"

Ouch.

Jason exploded. A big ball of flabbergasted incredulity. "You're Pussy-cat?"

"Shh!" Thaddeus hissed, "yes. Now follow me."

"He's Pussy-cat?" Jason repeated in a hoarse whisper, "Pussy-cat?"

Oh Jason. Dick and Jason followed Thaddeus into the back room. He led them into the janitor's closet and pulled on a string to turn on the light. Then, reaching for a loose board in the floor, he opened a trap door. Dick wasn't sure if this was the best idea he ever had, but they needed to get to the bottom of whatever was going on at the Chaos Club.

They climbed down the short ladder into a cold dark basement away from the lights of the club. Again, Thaddeus turned on the light.

"Here it is," said the janitor. He gave them a moment to take in the tables lined with merchandise. This was a full-on drug lab. Not a high tech one, but a lab nonetheless.

"Wow," Dick breathed, "you weren't kidding."

"You need to shut this place down," said Thaddeus. "They've started selling this stuff to the kids upstairs. It's not good. I'd have done something about it, but I'm afraid they'd kill me. It wasn't until I heard on the news that the police actually managed to catch the Steel Hand that I figured you guys might actually be able to pull this off and take these guys out."

"You did the right thing," said Dick reassuringly. He put a hand on the man's trembling shoulder. "Jason and I can handle things from here."

Thaddeus looked relieved. "Good. That's good." He wrung his hands. "We should get going. They won't be back down here until three this morning after the club closes, but I don't want Shawn to catch us down here by accident."

"Yeah, yeah, we got this," said Jason turning away from the piles of drugs packaged for shipping. "I've just got one question for you: why the Pussy-cat code phrase?"

"I panicked, OK! It was the only thing I could think of!" Thaddeus defended himself.

"And it will be your last," said a new voice.

Dick recognized Shawn, the owner of the Chaos Club. He pushed open a door on the other side of the room and steeped out. Behind him were four more members of the Steel Hand's empire, all armed with automatic weapons. Dick, Jason, and Thaddeus all put their hands up. And somehow, I missed that too. Great job Grayson. Steel Hand: 1. Dick Grayson: 0.

Jason looked non-pulsed beside him. "There was another secret door. Of course there was another secret door."

"Don't move," ordered Shawn.

"Oh god, I think I shit myself a little," squeaked Thaddeus.

Jason made a face. "Nice work, Pussy-Cat."


A/N: Hey guys, the boys in blue are back for another 2 part episode. Wow, these ones are really hard to come up with. I think I've lost my sense of humor XD Anyways, hope y'all enjoy and have a lovely quarantine :)