Batman snuck into the warehouse apartment belonging to one Victor Sage, a.k.a The Question. He was fortunate enough that The Question happened to be in Gotham tonight.

The Question was well known as a paranoid Conspiracy Theorist, and was often joked that he was the only one who was more paranoid than even Batman. But despite his…eccentricities, he was also a brilliant detective, tactician, and computer hacker, with genius level intellect, and training in Dragon Style Kung Fu. To many, he just seemed like a crazy Conspiracy Theorist, but he could be dangerous if he wanted to be.

"Batman. To what do I owe this visit?" Question asked without turning from his computer. Batman's eyes narrowed and looked around the apartment; it was mostly well organized, only slightly messy. He noted the cork board on the wall, with lines connecting from different pictures, news paper articles, and more. There were also various symbols on the board, from the All Seeing Eye, to the seal of the Knights Templar.

Batman turned his attention back to The Question, who was still engrossed in whatever he was doing at his computer.

"I need your help," Batman said evenly. The Question paused and with it, the sound of clacking keys. There was a moment of silence before the clicking continued again, followed by the sound of a printer working. The Question wordlessly got to his feet and grabbed the paper out of the printer and stuck it to his cork board, then finally turned to face Batman, donning a mask that lent the appearance of a blank face.

"Batman needs my help? The World's Greatest Detective? That strikes me as…odd," he replied. Batman's eyes narrowed a bit as he pulled the patch out of his utility belt.

"Red Hood managed to rip this symbol off of a mercenary's armor in GothCorp headquarters over in the Financial District. Have you seen it before?" The Question took the patch and examined it silently for a few moments. He then turned to his cork board and examined it, holding the patch up to it, until he found a similar symbol.

"Yes, I've encountered this symbol before," he began, pinning the patch to the cork board beside the symbol. He turned to Batman and went on "it's the symbol belonging to a covert operation that very few are privy to the existence of. I've spent a few years trying to crack this particular case. Nobody knows who leads this organization, save that he and his…employees…call him "The Broker"."

"The Broker? And what is it he deals in?" Batman asked. The Question turned from the board again and back to Batman.

"Information. It is my belief that The Broker is in possession of the world's largest information network. He deals in information, possessing more secrets than you can possibly imagine. He pulls the strings of the entire world from the safety of the shadows," The Question went on. He turned back to the cork board and started pointing at symbols as he spoke.

"I believe it began with the Illuminati or the Knights Templar," The Question began, moving from one symbol to the next. "Whoever founded this shadowy organization has spent centuries moving pawns into positions of power to collect the world's secrets, buying, selling, and trading information on a global scale."

Batman listened remaining silent as the Question explained what he "knew" about "the Broker". He was not in the least surprised to hear any of this; he knew what he was in for when he came to see The Question.

"Many of the history's most major events were orchestrated by this organization. As were the many deaths of those who attempted to expose them. Or rather, those who worked for them." He pointed to a picture of John F. Kennedy.

"The Kennedy Assassination," then Abraham Lincoln "The assassination of Abraham Lincoln," the next, Andrew Garfield "the attempted assassination of Andrew Garfield," and then lastly, he pointed to a picture of a Hitler "and the rise, and fall, of Adolf Hitler."

"This all sounds-"

"Crazy? Yes, so I've been told," The Question interrupted, turning his attention back to the cork board. "And yet here you are, with this symbol. Proof of the conspiracy."

"Or just proof of a crime," Batman interjected.

"I may be able to help you, Batman. But I request you keep me in the loop. This is a case I have been working for many years. You came to me, which means you must need my help. And I am willing to help, provided you keep me informed."

Batman was silent for a time, glancing over at the cork board and the patch he'd taken from Jason's jacket. All things considered, it might not be a bad idea to keep The Question in the loop. This was more his area of expertise. After all, sometimes, Conspiracy Theories proved to be true…

Batman arrived back at the batcave to find Tim and Damian sparring; Tim with his Bo staff and Damian with his sword, both in full costume. Dick was watching from the sidelines and making sure they didn't try to kill each other. In all fairness, Damian wasn't killing any more and was now tolerating Tim. And Tim wasn't actively antagonizing him (most of the time) anymore. Any taunts, threats, or jokes they threw at each other, were simply to throw the other off their game. Well…maybe. It was hard to tell, sometimes.

The two of them ended their sparring session when Bruce strode into the cave, pulling off his cowl.

"Damian, what're you-"

"Timothy explained the situation to me, father. So I returned to help," Damian interrupted. Tim gave a shrug of his shoulders.

"I figured we could use a little bit of extra help. I mean, these guys took down Jason and Roy, and they're top tier fighters," Tim pointed out. Bruce was silent for a time, but regarded Damian with a nod of his head. He moved toward the Batcomputer to link up with Oracle to find out what they knew so far.

"Where did you go?" Dick asked curiously, approaching from behind. He wrapped his arm around Tim's shoulders and patted Damian's back, steering the both of them toward Bruce.

"I went to see The Question."

"That quack? He's a conspiracy theorist and a nut case!" Tim replied incredulously.

"I'm aware. However, a Conspiracy Theorist may very well be who we need. Whoever we're up against, they're meticulous and precise. The only reason we know they exist is because they made a mistake," Bruce replied, turning in his seat to look at his sons. "The Question is eccentric, granted, but what we're up against is in his field of expertise." He turned back to the corner and together, he and Oracle went over their findings; it was very little.

"None of the scans we've collected have turned up anything. This ammunition, these bombs, they're untraceable. Whoever manufactures them doesn't want anyone to know they exist. Or it's possible that this "Broker" has his own personal manufacturer. It's hard to tell. What we have amounts to pretty much nothing."

"Wow. That's…impressive," Dick said, wide-eyed at Barbara's report. Damian frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, and Tim started pacing, wracking his brain for some answers.

"So all we have to go on is that patch, and Question's Conspiracy Theory," Bruce replied. He steepled his fingers and turned in his chair. "How are Jason and Roy doing?" he asked.

"Roy woke up a little bit ago. While you were out. Jason's with him. They're doing well. No signs of concussion or lasting damage," Leslie called, making her way down the stairs and into the cave.

"Their pride is a little bit wounded, but otherwise, they will make a full recovery." Bruce got from his seat and gave a bow of his head, shaking her hand.

"Thank you, doctor." Leslie pulled Bruce aside, out of earshot, and Bruce shot his boys 'the look' as an added precaution against eavesdropping.

"But I'm still concerned about Jason's mental state. You're still letting him patrol, after-"

"He's a grown man, capable of making his own decisions, Leslie," Bruce interrupted. He sighed a bit, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Besides, I get the sense that my ordering him to stop would only exacerbate matters. Jason's always been a bit…"

"Rebellious?" Leslie asked, arching an eyebrow. Bruce gave an amused snort, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"That's one way to put it."

"Very well. I've never known you to put faith in people who are undeserving, but I don't exactly trust your judgement," Leslie said evenly. "After all, you run around in a bat suit, beating up criminals."

"Is that humor, doctor?" Bruce asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes it is. You should give it a try sometime. It can be quite liberating. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get back to my clinic on the East Side," Leslie replied, making her way back up to the manor.

Jason hummed a little tune to himself as he worked in tandem with Alfred to cook breakfast for everyone. It was nearing morning time, and nobody had slept at all, considering he and Roy scared the shit out of everyone by showing up half dead in the cave last night.

Alfred had tried to encourage him to rest, but Jason simply couldn't sit still for very long. It just wasn't his thing. He needed to be doing something. It just so happened that Jason enjoyed cooking; he and Alfred used to spend a lot of time together in the kitchen, back during his Robin days.

"Master Jason, could you hand me the-"

"Eggs?" Jason replied without turning, grabbing the eggs off the island and handing them to Alfred as he prepared some pancakes; homemade, made from scratch, and his personal favorite; Chocolate Chip Pancakes. So they were pretty much making a little something for everyone.

"Chocolate chips, Master Jason?" Alfred asked, grabbing them out of the cabinet without looking and handing them to Jason.

"Thanks Alf," Jason replied, taking them, again without looking. Some things never really changed.

It was only after Jason had finished cooking the pancakes that Roy practically dragged himself down the stairs. Jason glared at him as he and Alfred set the table, then stalked over to the red head and wrapped an arm around his waist to help him.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

"Language," Alfred called.

"Sorry Alf," Jason replied. Roy chuckled in amusement, followed by a groan of pain, clutching his side.

"Ow. It hurts to laugh," Roy groaned. Jason snorted and helped Roy to the table.

"I'll take that as a yes. You were pretty fucked up Roy; you should-"

"Be in bed. Yes, so should you, Master Jason," Alfred cut in, arching an eyebrow. Jason opened his mouth to argue, but upon a look from Alfred, he shut his mouth. Roy snickered in amusement, earning an elbow (gently) in his side from Jason.

The three of them turned toward the sound of footsteps and saw Dick, Tim, and Damian all dressed in regular clothes, making their way into the kitchen.

"Mmmm, smells good Alfred," Dick said cheerily, taking a seat beside Jason. He glanced down the table at Roy and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Jason interrupted.

"Roy's doing fine. He's just being an idiot." A snicker of amusement from Roy, as the red head wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

"Aw, how sweet of you to care, Jaybird," he teased. Jason blushed and playfully shoved the man off him, shooting him a glare.

"Cut it out," Jason growled in a low tone. Roy giggled a little bit and waved his hand dismissively.

"Pretty sure they already know, Jay," he replied with a wink. Jason looked around the table to see that no one was in the least bit surprised. In fact, they went on with grabbing food and eating like nothing had happened.

"Of course they do," Jason replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. Keeping secrets in this family was exceedingly difficult. "Roy, how high are you right now?"

"Babe, my head is swimmin' in the clouds," Roy replied with a giggle of amusement, to which Dick snorted with barely contained laughter.

"That's some pretty powerful stuff, Alf," Jason remarked, arching an eyebrow. Alfred nodded in agreement.

"Indeed. It would see Master Roy has a lower tolerance for it than the rest of you."

"We have a lead," Bruce said evenly, prompting all of them to turn toward his direction. There was a brief silence as Bruce joined them at the table; he had a…soft spot for pancakes. It was a…weakness that only Alfred knew of. "We'll get some rest for now-"

Dick snorted with barely contained laughter and the others seemed equally amused.

"I'm sorry, did you just use the 'R' word?" Dick asked, mock gasping in shock.

"Yes, Dick. Rest. And tomorrow, we leave for Metropolis."