"You're sure you don't need anything else?"

Ellen rolled her eyes, secure in the knowledge that her Gramma couldn't see her. "Yes, Gramma. I've got plenty of food and money. I'll be fine."

"Alright. Just call me if anything comes up. Love you Sweet Pea."

"Love you too, Gramma. Bye!" Ellen hung up before Gramma could prolong the call any further, then placed the phone back on its charger. She walked to the old gingham couch in the center of the living room and flopped down on it, resting her feet up on the armrest in a way her Old Man would scold her for. Well, he wasn't here and neither was Gramma. Ellen reached over to the coffee table and picked up the remote. Time to watch all the late night TV shows Gramma would never let her watch.

Ellen had only just turned on the television when the phone rang again. Ellen groaned. What, did Gramma forget something? She pulled herself off the couch and walked over to the phone. "Hello?" she asked when she picked up.

For a moment, there was only the sound of breathing. Then a shaky voice answered. "Ellie?"

Ellen frowned. "Marisol?" Her friend sounded on the verge of tears. In the background, Ellen could vaguely hear the sound of people arguing in Spanish. "What's going on? Are you OK?"

Marisol's breath hitched before she continued. "That man from earlier, he came back tonight to talk to Miguel. I don't know what he said, but when Miguel came back in, he was angry. He said he was going to go to the police, then he, Mama and Papa got into another fight. Miguel stormed out five minutes ago."

"Shit," Ellen murmured. This was getting serious. "Wait, what did Miguel want to go to the cops about? Did his boss do something shady?"

"Mama and Papa told me to go to my room before they started fighting with Miguel, but I heard him shouting about how someone got murdered."

"Holy shit." Murdered? Just where did Miguel work? "So? Do you think Miguel went to go talk to the cops or what?"

"I don't know. Mama's so scared though. I can hear her crying." Marisol's voice broke. "God, I wish Miguel never took this stupid job!"

Ellen had never heard her friend in this state before. She shifted a bit before she answered, "Hey, do you wanna come over to my place tomorrow? I can always reschedule with my Dad."

"No, you don't have to do that," Marisol said. "I just...can you just talk to me right now? For a bit?"

Ellen took the phone receiver with her back to the sofa and sat back down. The TV could wait. "Yeah. As long as you want."

"Thank you. You're a good friend, Ellie."

Ellen smiled. "I try."

Ellen woke up at 10:00 the next morning, still drowsy. She and Marisol had been on the phone for over two hours the previous night and Ellen hadn't slept well after the call. Marisol had always been the most mature, put together of all of her friends. If she was so worked up last night, whatever Miguel was involved in had to be serious. She rolled out of bed and got herself ready for her day. After she'd showered and put on a fresh change of clothes, she checked the clock. 11:30. She'd be meeting up with the Old Man at his office in about two hours, which left her enough time for lunch. She should give Marisol a call too, just to make sure everything was OK. Just as she thought that the phone rang. Was that her now? Ellen crossed from the fridge to the counter to pick up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Ellen?"

Ellen frowned."Mrs. Sanchez? What's up-"

"Is Marisol with you?"

Ellen paused at the tone in the older woman's voice. Mrs. Sanchez sounded worried. "No, why?"

Ellen heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and her stomach dropped. "She's not here," Mrs. Sanchez said. "She wasn't in her room this morning, I can't find her, her father and Miguel are out looking for her, oh my God..."

"I'll try calling our other friends," Ellen said, her heart thudding in her chest. Where was she? If she wasn't home or with their friends, where would she go? "I'll find her, I promise."

"Thank you," Mrs. Sanchez said. Her voice hitched and she hung up the phone. Ellen immediately began dialing her other friends.

Joe was the last one she called. "You haven't seen her either?" Ellen said, pacing around her kitchen, running her hand through her hair. "Joe, I've called everyone we know! No one's seen her since yesterday!" She paused as he spoke. "Yeah, I guess we have to now. Thanks, Joe. I'll call you, Jon and Red later tonight." Ellen hung up the phone and bit her lip, trying not to cry. That wouldn't help Marisol now. God, what was she going to tell Mrs. Sanchez? She'd been like a second mother to her, always checking up on her, always inviting her over, ever since Mom-Ellen sighed, then dialed the Sanchez number. It went directly to the answering machine, which was almost a relief. "Mrs. Sanchez, it's Ellen. I called all our friends. No one's seen or heard from Marisol since yesterday, but they'll all keep an eye out. I'm sorry, but I think we need to call the cops." She hung up the phone, then took her face in her hands. Something had happened to Marisol. Something bad. Did it have something to do with Miguel? It must, it couldn't be a coincidence. But what could she do? Ellen's eyes spied the clock. It was five minutes after one, she'd have to run to the bus stop to meet-Ellen snapped her fingers. Of course! The Old Man! He could help! If anyone could find Marisol, he could! Ellen grabbed her coat and ran out the front door, almost forgetting to lock it in her haste.

Sitting behind his desk, her father held his hand up. "Slow down, Ellen," he said in that smarmy way of his. "Let me see if I understand you correctly: your best friend, Marisol Sanchez, seemingly disappeared from her home this morning?"

"Yeah!" Ellen shouted. "I called all our friends, no one's seen her. It's not like her to just disappear like this! She must have been kidnapped, don't you think?"

"That's a bit premature," the Old Man said. He pulled out a notepad from his desk drawer, then picked up a pen. "Now, the last time you spoke to her was last night, correct?"

"Yes," Ellen said. Was the Old Man treating her like a client? It was annoying. "She called me because her parents and her brother were fighting-"

"A domestic dispute," her father murmured. "What was that about?"

"Miguel's boss had come by and got in a fight with him-"

"Wait, Miguel is the brother?"

Ellen let out an annoyed sigh. "Yes! Miguel and his boss got into it, then when the boss left, Miguel and Marisol's parents got into a fight and Miguel stormed out. Marisol said that Miguel said he was gonna go to the cops about someone getting murdered at his job-"

The Old Man raised an eyebrow. "'Someone getting murdered?' Where does the brother work?"

Ellen shrugged. "I don't know. Marisol told me yesterday that he said he was working at Gotham Memorial, but that their Dad found out he was lying about that."

"I see." The Old Man scribbled a few notes down. "So, the brother was lying about his place of employment. Charming. What does he do for a living?"

"He's a nurse."

Ellen watched as her Old Man's eyebrow twitched. What, did he have a thing against male nurses? He shook his head. "So. The morning after hearing an argument between her parents and brother, your friend leaves her home. It's an apartment, correct?"

"Yeah."

"What story is it?"

"Second story. Why?"

"Well, if it's a second story apartment, that makes it difficult for anyone to have taken her." He looked back up at Ellen. "It sounds like she would have had to leave her home voluntarily. And you've called everyone she might have gone to? You're certain?"

Ellen clenched her fists. She didn't like how bored the Old Man seemed to be. "Yeah, I told you I did!"

"Does she have any other family she might have gone to?"

"No, most of the rest of her family is still in Puerto Rico."

"I see." The Old Man turned his attention back to his notebook. "Is there a boyfriend?"

Ellen shook her head. "No."

"You're sure?"

"I'm her best friend, Pops! I'd know if she had a boyfriend! We tell each other everything!"

"Oh?" The Old Man looked back up at her with a curious look on his face. "Does she know about me?"

Ellen pulled at her fingers a bit. "Not exactly, but-"

"Well then, you clearly haven't told each other everything."

Ellen felt her temper rise and she struggled to keep it at bay. "I haven't told her about you because you and Gramma won't let me-"

"And we both have very good reasons for that, which I'm not going to go into right now. Now, back to the subject at hand, it's entirely possible your friend just left to cool off somewhere-"

He said it as if Marisol had just gone off for a walk, instead of disappearing for hours. Ellen had had enough of her father's attitude about this. "She would have gone to me! She would have called me! She wouldn't have just taken off without saying a word! She's not like you!"

The Old Man frowned. "Don't take that tone of voice with me, young lady. At any rate, I have something pressing I need to see to, but when I'm done, I'll take a look into the brother-"

"When you're done!?" Ellen interrupted. "When's that gonna be? Marisol needs help now!"

"Ellen," The Old Man said, once again in that smarmy tone. "I can understand that you're a bit upset, but I can't simply drop what I have going on right now and insert myself into this. We don't know that there's been an actual crime. If the family thinks that she's been kidnapped, they need to call the police."

Ellen groaned and stamped her foot. "Why can't you just look into it now!? Just talk to her parents and Miguel!"

"Ellen, I don't know these people, how would that look?"

"She's my friend!" Ellen cried out. "Isn't that enough for you to care?"

The Old Man said nothing, but instead, closed his notebook. "When I have some time, I'll look into it. That's all I can promise, Ellen."

Ellen bit her lip. So, that was where she stood. The Old Man's work was more important to him than anything else, especially her. Her face flushed in anger and she hissed out in a tone cold as steel, "You'd drop everything if it was about Scarecrow!"

The Old Man actually recoiled at that, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Then he took in a sharp breath. "For both of our sakes," he said at last, in a tone as cold as her. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"Whatever," Ellen said. She turned around and walked towards his office door. "I don't know why I even told you. You don't care. Marisol's family's poor and can't pay you, so you don't care."

"That has nothing to do with it! Where are you going?"

Ellen turned to glare at him. "I'm going to go help her folks find her!"

"Ellen, if your friend really was kidnapped, this is a police matter. You're not going to help your friend by getting involved."

"Marisol!" Ellen yelled at him. "Her name is Marisol! And I can't just stand back and wait for you to feel like helping her!"

"Ellen-"

Ellen made it to the office door and turned to give the Old Man a final glare. "Fuck off!" Then she slammed the door and ran out of the building, ignoring her father's angry shouts behind her. When she made it down the block to the bus stop, she let the tears fall.

Ellen wandered the streets of her neighborhood of the Lower West Side, past the Bodega where she and Marisol would stop to get drinks after school, past the park where they would sit and sketch people walking their pets in the summer, past the deli where she'd stopped a robbery last August. She thought she saw Marisol's face in every girl who walked past her and the tears would come again. Where was she now? Was she locked up somewhere, pleading for someone to find her? Was she even still in Gotham? Or maybe, the Old Man was right. Maybe Marisol did just leave without saying goodbye. Ellen shook the thought out of her mind. No, Marisol wouldn't. She loved her family and their friends too much for that. Marisol was out there somewhere and she needed help.

It was well past four by the time Ellen rounded the familiar corner and walked up the steps to Marisol's apartment building. If nothing else, she owed it to Miguel and her parents to tell them what she knew. She entered the building and walked up the same flights of stairs she had the day before. This time, however, as she walked up the second flight and into the hallway that led to Marisol's apartment, she heard a man's voice, growing louder the closer she came. "Look, that's the deal, Take it or leave it, hombre." Ellen frowned. That sounded like the man from yesterday. She stopped at a door, just around the corner from Marisol's apartment, then leaned forward. The door was closed, but the sound of the voices carried through the thin walls. Another voice, one very familiar, to Ellen, made a cry that between anger and fear.

"You can't do this," Miguel's voice said. "She's just a kid, man. She doesn't have anything to do with this!"

Ellen's stomach dropped. Marisol.

The man's voice scoffed. "It's your own fault, Miguel. You didn't show up for work and when I found you, you started shootin' your mouth off. You want your sister? You know what to do. I'll be back at midnight for your answer. And I don't think I need to tell you what'll happen if you get any more funny ideas." Ellen heard the sound of the door open and heavy footsteps make their way down the hall, towards her. Thinking quickly, Ellen began walking towards Marisol's apartment, keeping her head down and hoping that the man wouldn't notice her.

She barely made it past him when he stopped and turned around. "Hey! Kid!"

Ellen stopped, her blood running cold. She took a deep breath and turned to face the man with as indifferent a look on her face as she could muster. "Yeah? What's up?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "You're that brat from yesterday. What're you doin' here?"

Ellen shrugged. "Coming to see my friend. What's it to you, chuckle fuck?"

The man's face reddened. "If you were my kid, I'd teach you some manners."

"If I was your kid, I'd have run off to join the circus years ago."

The man growled, then he squinted at her. "Hey," he said slowly, taking a step closer to her. Ellen fought every instinct she had to panic. "Have we met somewhere before yesterday?" he asked. "You look...familiar."

Shit. Had this guy met the Old Man? Figures. They were both just a pair of assholes. "I don't think so," Ellen said. "I'd remember meeting someone as ugly as you."

The man shook his head, then stomped the other direction. "Shitty little brat," he muttered. "No damn respect..." Ellen waited until she heard his footsteps down the stairs, then ran to Marisol's apartment, knocking on the door. It was only a moment until Miguel opened it, his eyes wide and red-rimmed.

"Ellen?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to your Mom," Ellen said truthfully. "Is she here?"

Miguel shook his head. "No, she and Papa are out looking for Marisol. I'll tell her you stopped by."

"Miguel," Ellen said. "I heard what that guy said. He has Marisol, doesn't he? What's going on?"

Miguel's face paled, then he set his jaw. "You shouldn't be here," he said, starting to close the door.

Ellen stopped the door with her hand. "Wait, Miguel, we should go to the cops! I want to help-"

"It's not your business, Ellen!" Miguel shouted. Ellen shrank back at the tone and the look in his eyes. Then Miguel brought his hand up to his face. "Please," he said. "Just go home, Ellen. I'll fix it." Then he shut the door, leaving Ellen with more questions than she'd arrived with.

"Now, I'll be with some old friends of mine for dinner tomorrow night, so I might not be able to call. But don't hesitate to call me if you need anything, alright Sweet Pea?"

"Alright, Gramma," Ellen said dully.

"Ellen," Gramma asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Stayed up a bit too late watching TV last night." Ellen kind of hated how easy it was becoming to lie to her grandmother.

"Well, it's the weekend, so I'll give you a pass just this once. But try to go to bed at a decent time tonight, please."

"I will. 'Night Gramma."

"Good night."

Ellen hung up the phone with a sigh. Sleep. Yeah right. How was she supposed to sleep when some creep had her best friend? She put the phone on the dresser next to her bed and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. That man said he'd be back at Marisol's tonight for Miguel's 'answer'. It was 9:00 now. What should she do? What could she do? Call the cops? She didn't even know the guy's name, just Lyle something. And if she did, Marisol was probably as good as dead. The Old Man was useless. Ellen groaned and closed her eyes. She couldn't just sit here and do nothing. "What should I do, Mom?" she whispered. "Marisol needs my help." She wasn't the Riddler though. She was just Ellen Dixon. Too bad she couldn't sneak up to the GCPD roof and call Batman, or Batgirl, or any of them. Her eyes opened. Maybe she was just Ellen Dixon, but she could be someone else. She hopped out of her bed and went to her dresser, pulling the bottom shelf open. Underneath her pajamas and gym shorts was a pair of striped green and purple leggings she'd worn for gymnastics a year or so ago. Next to them was a purple mask she'd made last August. She went to her closet then, pushing aside her shirts and pulling out a green sweatshirt she had, with a crudely stitched on purple question mark. She changed quickly and put on a pair of black boots. As she stepped in front of her mirror to tie on her mask, she hesitated. This was crazy. Was she really going to do this? The Old Man would be furious-she took a deep breath and tied the mask on.

Screw the Old Man. If he wouldn't help save Marisol, then Enigma would.