His side still burned from where the Cleaver marked him. The bruises were nothing more then little tender spots, while his very bones ached whenever he moved. The recovery took him all of a few weeks. It surprised him really that it wasn't shorter. He didn't have work to go back to, yet, but he started to attend his nightly courses again. His teacher took him through the basics slowly, not wanting anything to break. Of course when he sparred and took down a student who attended to years longer then he his teacher agreed to send him back into the full course.

He adjusted his duffle bag with a wince playing along his features. His body still ached, and the blows that his sparring matches left on him throbbed. His ribs hurt mostly. His arms weren't in full motion yet. Nothing was cracked, thank the Lord, but still he'd take it easy over the weekend to see how he felt. Worse case scenario he'd get a few more pain meds, and maybe another week in the hospital.

He had to put away the bandana for awhile, even heroes, though admittedly a bit lesser known then the League had to get a break whenever he could. The whole run in with the Cleaver wasn't something he expected. He still had his hands though and all of his fingers, though they were in pain now, still worked. That's what was important to him.

When he got to the door though he the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He peered to his left, then right. His apartment building was quiet, save for the faint murmuring of the TV next door. The sun dipped low on Gotham's skyline and that meant the crazies began to pour out. He slowly opened the door as he eased the duffle bag down. When he had the door part way open his fingers curled into a fist. He swung the door shut and immediately his hands slid up to a ready position.

He moved cautiously through his apartment. Despite it being his home, it was one of the few good corner apartments left in the city. The three rooms he had were a living room, bedroom and kitchen. He had a 'one and a half' bath, where he kept his backup gun, and a balcony which had an open window. Maybe the rustling of the room made his nerves fray? Ever since the Cleaver nearly killed him his nerves had been on edge, he barely slept or even spoke save for answering his teacher. He knew he wasn't himself, a stranger in a stranger city.

A low, shaky sigh slid from his lips as he made his way to the kitchen. He needed a drink and a snack, summing up his current state from being worn out and lack of sleep. Carrots, dip and a cold beer were found in short order. He found a knife to slice them into bite sized pieces. Then he felt the hairs on his neck stiffen again. On a twisted whim he turned and threw the knife. He was surprised to see a figure standing in the entrance to his kitchen.

Surprised more so that set person was Batman.

"Didn't take much to find you, the contacts were a bit much."

Not exactly what he'd call a hello, but it was better then getting his butt handed to him by the Dark Knight himself. He reached up to rub along his shaved head. Naturally his hair was dark brown, nearly black. It had to be shaved when he was brought to the hospital. He was right about the contacts though for his natural eye color was similar to two bits of coal. They were used only when he walked out in Gotham at night. There were plenty of blue and green eyes, more unique an eye color, more someone could remember you.

"Partly right." He mused, his drawl showing. He was more tired then he thought.

"If you weren't a victim I'd be taking you in for questioning," Batman quickly added, but relaxed his stance, "how goes the recovery?"

He shrugged in answer. "Slow."

Batman didn't seem pleased with the answer but he spotted a few of his minor awards on the wall in his living room. "Muay thai, kickboxing, boxing, I've read you even trained in Krav Maga."

He nodded in answer. "I dabble."

"And excel."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why are you here Batman? Really? I doubt you give house calls to every victim in Gotham. If you did, I imagine nothing would be done."

"True… I imagine you've read the reports? You've seen villains popping out of the woodwork, new universes being crossed-"

"And failed apprentices. Jon Hale was at the peak of his adult life and-"

"What happened to him was my fault," Batman growled, "I accept it, I live with it, but it does not change what is happening. Gotham is becoming more rotten from this world and others, and I need to find the source before it spreads to the rest of the world."

He had enough and he slammed his hand on the table. It made his hand hurt a bit more, but it got his attention. "Look around ya! It's already spreadin'."

His white lenses narrowed again as his accent showed its true southern colors. "So it's true. I've had my suspicions, notes, but to see it… I know what your file says, but still it's nice to finally meet a friendly face who understands the meaning of secret identity."

He didn't like the feeling in his gut when Batman mentioned his file. That was supposed to be classified. "Don't you have a murder to stop?" he snapped irritably.

"I have other members of my… family covering me tonight. How did you get here?"

"Same way as ya I imagine. Ya know when a man and woman meet an' such?"

With reluctance, and partial disbelief, he gestured for him to sit down. What other choice did he have really when face to face with the Dark Knight? Batman took his seat and held is arms crossed on the table. He turned and distracted himself by grabbing some coffee, the carrots and alcohol forgotten.

"Three cream, three sugars. I imagine we'll be here for awhile."

He bit back the scowl but did as ordered. Three cream, three sugars for Batman and himself he just drank it black. It was bitter, made his brain start to chug along a bit faster. He was here having coffee with the Batman. Part of him wanted to laugh, another wanted him to run and a third told him to tell him. He decided on the last choice, not without a bit of probing first.

"You said my file, ya do that for all folks you meet?"

"Only when it's necessary."

So all the damn time, great. He nodded though, keeping his comment to himself while took another sip. "Then you know full well that I don' take kindly to folks pokin' around in my business."

"Despite that here we are." Batman stated more then answered. "You saved over a dozen people when Luthor made his escape, before he gathered his own cadre of villains. Before that you were military, skilled in marksmanship as well, one of the best shots."

"Discharged after I had a… violent reaction to my friend dyin'."

"What do you mean?"

"When he was well…you've seen the file, you know what happens to guys like me who are discharged. Especially when some of the head brass caught wind of my actions. Before ya could even see a dust cloud I was whisked away all hushed like."

"What did you do after that?"

He frowned for a moment. Batman seemed attentive, but he knew it was all for his information. If the Caped Crusader knew where he was, who he was, why would he hide it now? He reached a hand up, rubbing a hand along his shaved head.

"Worked as a mercenary, where else could my talents be used at all? Managed to save up enough money for mah own custom pieces. Fella said they were made with prot… pro-something…"

"Promethium."

"Pardon?"

"It's a very strong metal, seen it used against me once, still have the bruises."

He waved a hand dismissively. "I doubt dat it'd make any difference to a metal detector."

Batman took a sip of his own steaming mug, ignoring his comment. "Your parents?"

That question came out of left field, but he answered anyway. "Passed away sadly, pa was a sheriff and my ma lived on one of the reservations. Good people despite their differences."

Batman's pale lenses narrowed on him. "Good upbringing, taught well…" he nodded, mostly to himself it seemed. "This may be easier then I thought."

His brow lofted. "…The hell do you mean by that?"

"This is the second reason why I'm here, Mr. Saunders."

His eyes widened. He used a fake name, he made sure his tracks were covered. He in fact paid a small fortune for it! It seemed that Batman was better then he thought. He shifted nervously, taking a swallow of his now lukewarm coffee.

"How long did it take you to find everythin' out? Be straight with me."

"Not long." The answer came, almost too quickly. "The hacker you paid off was…amateur."

He made a mental note to give a personal thank you to that hacker when this business was said and done. "What did you have in mind then, spooky?"

Once again Batman didn't rise to the bait. "You're dedicated to this country, and I've noticed for the short time you've been here, this city. I tried Hale because I saw redemption, a road not traveled. That could have been me if I allowed my anger to cloud my judgment and picked up guns rather then martial arts. You've experienced loss, pain, anger, all of it and yet you keep control. Control enough I think that I can trust you with this."

He tapped his chest and he nearly spat out his coffee. He swallowed it down, patting his chest. "Oh hell naw, you're out of your mind here!"

"For now." He cautioned. "Gotham needs a Batman, always."

"Don't you have any other folk you can ask? One of yer many sidekicks maybe?"

He shook his head. "Too young, and he's…"

He felt a scowl tug at his lips but he knew the reality. "Not disposable. But I am."

He nodded. "That's the truth. You have the skill and background to become a good Batman, but with the tech I have set aside you'll be a great one while I'm gone, Gregory."

Lord, to hear his first name uttered by a hero most of Gotham saw as a myth or urban legend made his heart stop and not in the good way. He ran a hand over his sweating face, not realizing how nervous he was. "Look, Batman, this… This is all too much. You can't expect me to drop everything to help some suicidal man in a bat costume."

"You've already stopped several thefts, and an attempted armed robbery." Batman stated. "I have eyes and ears everywhere, Gregory."

"Cops were still minutes away." He said sheepishly. "Just acted like any fella should."

"Not 'any guy' goes out of his way to stop an armed robbery. Save for whom I've… tutored already, no one has the drive to save this city. I believe you have it, with me keeping a watchful eye of course. All you need to do is say yes."

He stared down at the contents of his mug and peered back at the cowled gaze of Batman again. He opened his mouth and clamped it shut. What could he say? There was no job waiting for him when he recovered. Not that he would be going out of his way for a contract anytime soon. Gotham was getting worse during his stay here and if the murmurings he heard on the news were true so was the rest of the world. Someone needed to step into the mantle while the genuine article searched and scrounged for answers.

"I still have rent, food, bills."

"They're already taken care of."

He nearly spat out his coffee for the second time. "…What?"

Batman downed the rest of his calmly. "I have payments for each of those arranged for the next six months. I figured you'd say yes, but the worse case scenario would be you having six months of living for free while you try to find a job."

"I… Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet."

Batman slid to his feet and placed an earpiece onto the table. "This will let you keep in touch with the League, police radio, military radio, whatever you need to track. All switched on the small module near the lobe. I left a small GPS, and directions, in your car to the… safehouse I arranged for you while you're helping me."

Gregory couldn't help but be floored by how much preparation was done while Batman was having a cup of coffee. Or was this all done before he arrived? It was hard to say but Gregory got to his feet as held out his hand.

"Reckon then I don' have much of a choice. When do I start?"

Batman gripped it hard and the slightest of smirks tugged at his lips. "Tomorrow night."

He wasn't kidding.

His phone gave a dull buzz in his pocket when he saw a text from an 'Unknown' contact saying it's time. He threw a duffle bag of clothing over his shoulder, locked up and made his way downstairs. He received another text when he got to the front door and he peered at it with a quirked brow.

"…Keys are in the ignition?"

He still mused over the text as he pushed outside. He nearly dropped his phone at the sight.

The dark metal chassis of the bike was polished to shine and the chrome dulled over to make it all look sleek and stylish. The Gotham Motors symbol shone and the vehicle looked to be a blend between a sports and luxury bike. He rubbed at his freshly shaven chin and tossed his bag on the back, strapping it secure. He hopped on the leather seat peering left and right before seeing indeed that the keys were in the ignition.

"Holy sh-"

Another buzz interrupted him as he flipped open his phone again after awkwardly yanking it from his pocket. "Directions are already keyed in. Consider this your 'civilian' vehicle for my time away."

He flipped it shut and while peering at the tiny screen above the radio he pulled out with a pleasant rumble from the engine. He could get used to this. The car had smooth handling, the scent of fresh leather tickled his nose and the audio system rumbled through the car as he veered his way through traffic. It took him a good hour or two before he found the turn off that was being signaled to him. He frowned as he peered into the long dirt road being loomed over by trees with an unpleasant mix of dead branches and full leaves. It seemed like something out of a bad surrealist painting.

He pulled in, the road a bit bumpier then he expected. He even had to brace himself against the front dash so he wouldn't buck around like a toy caught in the dryer. He even eased up on the gas to see if that helped. Sadly it didn't. He then came into the driveway of an old, run down looking home. He didn't mind it really. He actually liked the rustic appeal to it. He stepped out of the car and felt his phone buzz in his pocket. This time it was a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Just pulled in, good."

It was odd to hear Batman's voice on the other end, but he didn't mind too much. "I…did, how did you know that?"

"I told you I'd be monitoring you. Go inside. Pull the pole-axe of the silver knight and proceed down."

He then hung up and Gregory peered at the phone like it was alien to him. What kind of damned riddle was that? Or was it literal? It was hard to tell with Batman who, from even their short conversation and offer, seemed all grim and serious all the time. He shook his head, gathering his bag and locking the car before he proceeded inside with his shoulders locked. He wasn't sure what was waiting for him inside.

The door opened up with a creak and six pairs of eyes looked over at him, two of them with needles in their arms and the others a bit drunk rather then doped up. His usual garb was inside the bag and it'd take too long to pull out his revolvers. Batman was insistent as their conversation tied up the night before to not use them. He'd feel naked, but he'd get used to it. He had to.

"Who the hell are you?" One of them asked, his voice partilally slurred.

"Just…passin' on through?"

"Get 'im!"

Two of them sprang forward, knives flashing in their grips. He tossed a duffle bag at one as he dropped into a stance. The duffle bag caused the first knifeman to duck which gave him time to open up with a right cross to the second. His jaw curled to the side with the blow as he stumbled and he quickly followed up with a left to the gut and a follow through to the jaw. The druggie slammed onto his back before he turned, catching the first's hand. He twisted it to disarm him and slammed a palm into his chest. He coughed and sputtered as he keeled over. His leg lifted up and the back of his heel slammed into his back, bringing him to the ground. He looked over to the other four who stared at him wide eyed.

"Next."

They seemed hesitant now but his urge for fighting got the better of him. He sprang forward, slamming a fist across the first's nose. With a satisfying crunh being heard beneath his knuckled he leapt on the planted leg and slammed a heel into the second's neck. They both stumbled back quickly. The two with the needles still hanging from their arms bolted from the place. He felt his phone buzzing again and pulled it out hastily.

"What?" he growled.

"Had fun? Looked like you needed a warm up."

"…You… knew they were here?"

"They hang out there every so often." Came the cool reply.

"Will they come back?"

"No. If they do they will be…dealt with."

"…A reassuring thought." He mused, rubbing at his sweat slickened jaw.

He found the silver knight in the house's lounge. The fireplace was dimmed, yet the coals still warm. No doubt the druggies used to keep themselves warm at night. He felt bad for them for a moment as he pulled down on the weapon and with a low metallic droning sound the fireplace swung open, revealing a long metal pole that lead straight down beside a spiraling staircase. One for when you're in a rush, the other then time can be taken? Either way he took the stairs, thought he thought this whole idea was crazy. He was used to operating as Vigilante. He liked the cowboy look in homage to his pa, and the colors showed his love for his country not that he bled the red-white-and blue.

Still he found it quite hard to say no to the Batman, and if he did he naturally assumed that he'd make his mercenary jobs a living hell. He found a sigh slipping from him as he opened the office door, with push bar, at the bottom of the stairs. When he touched it though he shot his hand back as an electric jolt zapped his hand. He was about to kick the door down when his phone buzzed yet again. He flipped it open, still shaking his hand.

"What do you want, spooky?"

"Look at the upper right corner for a moment."

He did so, moving the phone away from his face. He counted to ten in his head before bringing the phone back to his ear.

"Try again."

When he pressed his hand against the bar he saw a small red line go along the bar over his fingers. The process took a few moments but Gregroy was patient, he had to be, considering the new line of 'work' that waited for him just beyond the door. He felt a nervous lump start to form in his throat despite his usual bits of training.

"Recognized: Gregory Nash Saunders."

The door opened of his own accord. He still had the phone against his ear but he nearly dropped it as he tripped over an exposed wire. He caught himself and peered along a room about the two of his apartments large. It was assorted with a few tables of gadgets with the bat motif, a small gym with the basics for cardio, strength and definition and another door to his left. He eyed the computer screen on the far side of the room though. It had three screens, one large room flanked by two smaller ones. The latter two were already scrolling with information. Batman was on the large screen watching his every move and he could see a large cavern behind him that was dimply lit by no doubt the Batman's own screen.

"Welcome to the fold, Mr. Saunders. Let's get started."