Author's Note: We're going to see more of the new villain and Stiles' plan. Hope you enjoy! :)

"Are you going to keep ignoring me, Stiles?" Parrish asked, eyes glancing at the rear view mirror.

Stiles traced his finger along the foggy car window. "I don't know. Can I have my phone back?"

"Nope. You're still grounded. The only reason I'm letting you see Tim is because I think it will be good for you."

Stiles pouted and went back to moping. The rain outside started to fall harder, almost as if the skies knew what a sour mood he was in. Parrish was being totally unfair. He needed his phone; it was his lifeline.

"You know, it's not my fault that you snuck out in the middle of the night. I circled the block six times."

Stiles hated to admit it, but he probably should have called. It didn't mean that Parrish didn't overreact. He was only gone for an hour. When he returned, Parrish had been frantic, asking him where he'd been, and on the verge of calling every available GCPD officer to look for him. Stiles had responded that he was being overly dramatic, which earned him another week of being grounded and the loss of his cell phone privileges. He had tried arguing his case. If Parrish wanted to know where he was, then why take away his cell phone? Nonetheless, his case was lost, and he ended up playing the silent treatment with the former deputy.

"Aren't you excited to see Wayne Manor? I know I am. I've never been to a mansion before." Parrish said absentmindedly.

"Tim said it wasn't that big."

"Well, I think Tim might have lied to you. This place is huge."

As they approached the gates, Stiles got a full view of the manor. It stretched high into the sky, with more windows than he could count. Its Gothic architecture reminded him of the dark, imposing castles from those old-timey horror movies he watched with his dad. He almost expected to see a gargoyle lurking on the rooftop. Its safe to say that it was not what he imagined. "I think he did." Stiles said with awe.

Parrish parked the car at the entrance where they were greeted by Tim's butler, Mr. Pennyworth. He was tall man, dressed in a black, tailored suit. His hair was graying on the sides, and his grandfatherly smile was warm and inviting.

"The young sir is waiting for you inside. Master Bruce, unfortunately, will not be joining us today. He was called to a meeting on short notice. He sends his regards."

Parrish checked his watch. "That's alright. I have to be back at the station anyways. Stiles, be good. Call me when you need to be picked up."

"Man, you sound old."

Parrish looked like he wanted to smack him upside the head. Instead, he opted for patting him forcefully on the back. "Well that's what happens when you have to take care of a teenager at 25. Have fun. Don't make any trouble for Mr. Pennyworth."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I won't, mom."

"I'm not even going to grace that with a response. Bye." He turned to the butler who stood to the side, watching their antics with a hint of amusement. "Thank you for everything Mr. Pennyworth."

"Not a problem, sir. Shall we." Mr. Pennyworth extended his arm, guiding Stiles into the manor. "I have heard a lot about you Mr. Stilinski from Master Tim."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I seem to recall him saying, I quote, Stiles thinks your casserole is awesome. Which is quite the compliment Mr. Stilinski."

Stiles could feel the tips of his ears heat up in embarrassment. "Oh, it was great, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Fear not, Mr. Stilinski. I am glad you enjoyed it. Please, call me Alfred."

They stood at the foot of a large staircase. Stiles could hear loud footsteps coming from upstairs. "You made it!" Tim yelled from the railing. "Thanks, Alfred."

The butler turned to leave. "I will be making refreshments. If there is anything you need, then do not hesitate to ask."

Tim waved him up. "Come on. I have a lot of stuff to show you."

Stiles walked up the stairs and followed Tim down the corridor. Antique furniture filled the rooms he could see. It was all very fancy and elegant, something he wasn't used to. The most expensive thing his dad and him owned was their TV and even that they had gotten second hand.

"I have to show you my new Avengers PS4 game. Technically it's Dicks but he lets me borrow it."

Stiles held up his hand, confused. "Wait. That's not even out yet!"

"I know! Bruce got it for Dick's birthday. He's friends with the CEO of the gaming company." Tim pushed open the door to his bedroom. "I call dibs on Captain America."

As Tim set up the game, Stiles walked around the room, looking at his posters and books. The room was neater than his bedroom, but he suspected Tim had done some last minute cleaning if the bulge coming out from under his bed was any indication.

On the nightstand were a couple of pictures of Tim and some other people he didn't recognize. He picked one up. "Are these your brothers?"

Tim set down what he was doing and walked over to Stiles. "The one on the left is Dick. Jason's on the right." He took the picture from him and sat on the bed. "He died a couple years ago. We never met, but Jason, Dick tells me, wasn't close to many people. I keep his picture there, so I can keep his memory alive, you know?"

Stiles felt guilty for bringing it up. "I understand. I lost my mom, too." Stiles said. "I was really little. I don't remember much about her except that she had a really beautiful smile."

And as the years passed, the image of her became hazier. Sometimes he remembered every detail of her face with clarity, but other times he couldn't remember a thing. It's why he kept a picture of her in his wallet, looking at it every chance he got. She only had his dad and him, so there wasn't anyone else who would do it.

Tim set the picture on the nightstand. "Onto less heavy stuff, let's see if you can beat my record. The only person who's come close is Conner and that's only because he was cheating."

Stiles rolled up his sleeves. "I'll take you up on that challenge."

He, unfortunately, didn't beat Tim's record, but he did learn how competitive his new friend could be. Tim cracked out Monopoly after that, which ended in another defeat for him. He wasn't really sure what he expected, Tim being the adopted son of an actual CEO and all.

Mr. Pennyworth, or Alfred as he insisted, had to drag them down for dinner. "Master Dick will be working late today. He will be back tomorrow.." Alfred set down plates of steaming stew in front of them.

"What does your brother do?"

"He's a freelancer. He told me once that he worked as a model but I don't really believe him. Right now he's working for the Bludhaven Police Department."

"That's really cool." He had wanted to be a police officer when he was younger, but now, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. His current plan involved winning the lottery or working with the FBI.

Stiles felt a wave of nervousness wash over him. He had been meaning to broach the subject of Vicki Vale with Tim all day; it never seemed like the right time.

"Tim, um, can we talk?"

"We've been talking all day."

Stiles shook his head. "I meant can we talk talk?"

Tim demeanor became serious. "Okay. Let's finish the stew and we can talk in my room."

Stiles slurped the last of his stew, told Alfred how delicious it was, and headed up the stairs after Tim. He sat on the bed while Tim closed the door. "I don't really know where to start."

Tim sighed. "Just start at the beginning."

He fidgeted with the sheets. "I met a reporter. She gave me a file on Tom Dougherty; the cop my dad was accused of shooting."

"She just gave it to you?" Tim asked.

"Sort of. Not really. I planned on giving it back." Stiles held his head in his hands. "Tom was going to testify against Mario Falcone. I know he's the head of the mob."

Tim shut his eyes, like he knew exactly what Stiles was thinking. "What are you going to do?"

Tim wasn't going to like what he said next. "Fish Mooney. She was listed as a known associate. If anyone knows who framed my dad, then its her."

"Do you expect her to just tell you?"

"I don't. I need to get close enough so that she trusts me. Before you say anything, I know they're dangerous; I'll be careful."

Tim walked over to the window. His shoulders were hunched over. "Infiltrating the mob? Are you even listening to yourself?"

Stiles felt anger bubble in his chest. It wasn't like he'd come to the decision overnight. He'd spent hours looking over the file, finding no other option. The FBI was in Falcone's pocket, along with an untold number of GCPD officers. Stiles couldn't trust anyone, meaning that he had to take matters into his own hands.

"I have to do this."

"No you don't." Tim said, raising his voice. "You don't have to do anything! You have people that care about you. What are they going to do if you go off and get yourself killed?"

"I came to ask you for help. Can you please just look at me?"

Tim turned around, fire in his eyes. "Help! I won't help you do this to yourself."

"Fine." Stiles said, his voice shaking. "I thought you of all people would understand."

Stiles took his backpack from the bed and ran out of the room. Tim yelled after him, but he didn't care to listen.

Outside the manor, it was nightfall. Rain was still pouring, drenching him in seconds. He jogged aimlessly, wanting to be anywhere but there. The mud caked his shoes. He was alone in this, but he had hoped.

Exhaustion finally took over him and he slid down the first tree he found. He hugged his knees. Before they had left Beacon Hills, they promised to take care of each other. That it was just them now. He fully intended to keep his promise.

Stiles covered his eyes as a pair of headlights came into view. The rain blurred his vision, but he recognized Parrish's uniform. "Hey, bud. Alfred said you were out here."

"Leave me alone, Parrish." Stiles slapped his hand away.

"No can do. Now let's get you out of here."

Parrish lifted him off the ground, bridal style, which he'd be more embarrassed about if he wasn't so tired. His limbs were numb. He must have been out there longer than he thought.

"I don't hate you, Parrish." Stiles added as an afterthought.

"I know, Stiles."

Stiles was sick for the rest of the week. Parrish had taken him to the doctor twice even though he was pretty sure it was just a cold.

"I talked to your dad's attorney yesterday. They've set a date for your dad's trial."

"When?"

"After the new year."

His heart felt heavy in his chest. He had two months. Two months before his dad's case would go to trial.

"Have you talked to him?" Stiles asked, moving his food around with a fork.

"Yeah. He's hopeful. Asks about you a lot."

He raised his eyes to meet Parrish. "What did you tell him?"

"That you were doing good. Busy with your schoolwork."

"Parrish, I-"

Parrish raised his hand to stop him. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Stiles. I know it's been a difficult time for you. Moving to Gotham, then this happens. I would be worried if it wasn't affecting you."

Stiles exhaled through his nose. "Just tell him. Just tell him I'll see him soon." He was a terrible liar. His dad would know exactly what he was up to and probably try to stop him. It was a distraction he didn't need.

"He'll be happy to hear that." Parrish reached behind him and put an envelope on the table. "There's an auction this Saturday. Bruce invited the both of us. Do you want to come?"

"I thought you had a girlfriend?" Stiles muttered under his breath.

"I am slightly offended Stiles. Brenda and I broke up a month ago. Which A, you would have figured out if you didn't space out every time I talked to you."

"I have ADHD." Stiles waved his arms around. "Remember?"

"I updated it on Facebook. Even Kevin from the station knows. I don't even like Kevin." Parrish said, exasperated.

He shrugged. "I don't use Facebook. Scott tried to get me to use it, but I don't see the point when all you do is like each other's pictures."

"You're completely hopeless. So will you go?"

No was on the tip of his tongue, but the pleading in Parrish's eyes made him reconsider. "Yes. I'll be your plus one."

"Maybe Tim will be there."

"Yeah, maybe." Stiles hadn't seen much of Tim. When they passed each other in the halls, they didn't talk to each other. It really hurt. It hurt even more that he couldn't tell anyone the real reason they had a falling out. Parrish had tried more than once to coax it out of him, but every time he wouldn't budge. He'd be angry too if he knew.

His dad didn't deserve to be in jail. If he had to run with criminals to find those responsible, then he would do so in a heartbeat. He couldn't lose his dad.

Unknown location

Jason was upside down when he woke up. A blinding light was aimed at his face. He'd been in a similar situation before, back when he was still Robin, except he had fallen from a rooftop and tangled his foot on a clothesline. He had been stupid, cocky, or both even. Bruce had come to the rescue as always with a batarang in hand.

Fuck him. He could save himself.

From what he could tell, they'd taken most of his weapons. His helmet, too.

'It's time for extreme measures,' Jason thought to himself. He bit his upper lip and began to dislocate his fingers. It hurt like hell, but his hands would be free.

"You're finally awake. I was beginning to worry."

Jason swung around to face his captor. In the shadows, he could make out a figure standing across from him.

"You should be more worried about what I'm going to do to you." He said, nearly frothing at the mouth. "When I get down from here, I'm going to rip you limb from limb!"

Jason could hear the man giggling which then turned into full blown laughter. "Limb from limb! Haha!"

He suddenly felt wrong. That laugh.

"You're not wrong, baby bat." The man said in a sing-song voice. Jason narrowed his eyes. "Are you afraid?"

The man stepped into the light, the white makeup and green hair unmistakable.

"You are not the Joker." He growled. "Joker's in Arkham."

Not Joker waved a finger in front of his face. "Maybe I am." His face changed, revealing a man with bandages. Then back to Joker. "Maybe I'm not."

"Those metas. Do they work for you?"

"So many questions when it's me who has all the cards." Not Joker walked over to him and grabbed his chin. "Those werewolves and I, we have similar interests."

Jason nearly scoffed. "Werewolves?"

Not Joker pushed him to the side, causing him to swing violently. "Werewolves are very real but not always reliable. You've done me a favor, getting of rid of Sam. He was a liability."

"What do you want?" Jason said after he stopped swinging.

"Too soon for that, baby bat."

"Don't fucking call me baby bat!" He yelled through clenched teeth.

"It's the symbol on your chest. What else should I call you?" Not Joker crouched down in front of him, looking straight into his eyes. "You know, they say the eyes are the windows to the soul."

Pain suddenly exploded in his head. A swirl of emotions overtook him. He was angry. No, he was afraid. Joker was going to hurt him. But Joker's in Arkham. "What are you doing to me?"

"Why so serious, Jason?" He heard the familiar sound of a crowbar being dragged across the floor.

The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. "J-Joker?"

"The one and only! Haha!" The clown raised the crowbar.

Jason's screams erupted throughout the warehouse.

Batcave

Dick's bo staff met Bruce's with a loud clack. They were both sweating. His muscles were aching.

He swung his staff again. Bruce ducked and kicked his legs out from under him. He landed hard on the mat.

"You've been improving, Dick." Bruce wiped the sweat from his brow. "Or I'm getting too old. "

Dick chuckled. "I guess I'm just that good Bruce. Why did you invite me for training? Not that I mind. It's nice to come home and see everybody."

Bruce sat in front of the main computer. "Tim's friend, Stiles Stilinski. His father was framed for murder."

"The guy all over national headlines. Cop on cop crime. You think he's innocent?" Dick asked. When he heard about it in Bludhaven, he hadn't given it a second glance.

"Yes." Bruce tossed Dick a tape. "Something about this case isn't right, Dick. I talked to Vale. Tom Dougherty was a dirty cop who flipped on Falcone. This case is bigger than I thought."

"What do you want me to do?" Dick asked.

"Get transferred to the GCPD. Find out who else is working for Falcone."

He pocketed the tape. "How are you so sure about this? The police said it was airtight."

"No man who loves his son as much as John Stilinski would risk getting sent to prison for the rest of his life." Bruce turned in his chair. "A father knows."

He knew that look. Bruce was dead set on something and nothing would change his mind. Dick grabbed his coat off the rack. He had work to do.

He stepped onto the elevator. When it opened, he found Tim waiting for him in the hall.

"Dick."

"Hey, baby bro." Dick wrapped his arms around Tim, who struggled under his grip.

"What are you doing here? Can we train?"

Dick frowned. "Sorry. I have some police work to do in Bludhaven. Maybe next time. Then you can tell me all about your friends and school."

Tim's shoulders slumped. "Okay. I guess you'll have to wait to see my kickass moves."

"Don't worry. I'll be back sooner than you think." And he would be once he talked to his superiors.

On his way to Bludhaven, thoughts circled around in his head. Bruce was worried which made him worry. Just who was this Stiles Stilinski?