"I do not appreciate you making Titus sound like an incapable dog," Damian sneered while Tim watched last Wednesday's surveillance tape from outside the Gotham Galleria.

Tim hummed, "okay," and focused on the two men with guns shooting down the sidewalk. He pressed some buttons on the computer and watched the tape again.

"What are you doing?" Damian asked training with Dick Grayson.

"Something's not right," Tim mumbled under his breath, "Street Demonz don't have a shoot out in the middle of the day."

"Tim, even you said that they had a new boss. Clearly he's not like Dallas." Dick tried to reason.

Tim turned in the swivel chair to look at his brothers, "But why send two thugs that don't even know how to aim a gun?" Tim challenged, "I looked into this Gumbol guy. No record of him and no one with same alias. He's clean." Tim turned back to the computer screen, "This guy is obviously smart… why would he send Markus Brown and Scott Campbell to take down Cuntas?" Tim typed more into the computer. He stopped and stared at the screen.

"Shit," Dick whispered noticing the screen. Damian, in Dick's moment of vulnerability, swung the escrima stick at Grayson and hit him in the rib, "Damn it, Damian." He hissed.

"This isn't good," Tim finally muttered and stood from the computer, "We need to warn the GCPD." He started walking to his motorcycle, "I need to go tell the Commissioner."

"Tim," Dick called, "Tim!" He yelled this time, "It's 7am. Go take a shower and sleep. I'll talk to Gordon. We won't let what happened last time happen again." Dick assured him.

Tim removed his helmet and looked at his older brother, "Dick, someone's playing chess while we're playing checkers. He or she is probably two steps ahead of us. Plus, you just finished an undercover case, you could use more rest than…"

"I'll handle it," Dick replied sternly. "Go rest,"

Tim scratched at his jaw, "Fine," he said in defeat and went up to the penthouse to shower and sleep.

When he woke up, he found a text message from Myriam.

One of the shooters was brought in by GCPD today. Name's Scott Campbell. Other guy is still MIA… I need your help." It read.

Tim immediately called her, "They caught'em?" he acted surprised.

"Can you come over?" She ignored his question.

"On my way,"

….

"Everything okay?" Tim asked her the moment she opened the front door.

Myriam walked Tim to the dining room, "I snuck into the precinct that's handling the shooting," She started.

"You 'snuck in'?"

"Don't ask me how but I got access to a computer," she continued.

"A cop's computer?" Tim questioned.

"The case has been handed over to Major Crimes," She ignored him, "On a Gotham scale, this was a small shooting… Why did they hand it over to Major Crimes?" She thought out loud, "Something's not right."

Tim wanted to tell her right then and there. He wanted her to know everything he knew. But he couldn't. He couldn't get her involved and he had to keep the secret.

"Myr?" He shook her shoulders, "Are you okay? Have you slept?"

"I'm fine," She waved off his concerns and sat down in a dining chair and Tim could see her rubbing her thumb and forefinger together mimicking a gambler rubbing a poker chip.

"I know that look," He said, "What are you thinking?"

She sat silently for a minute continuing a focused gaze on her fingers, "Come with me," She finally said.

She led Tim to the basement. To the right of the bottom of the stairs, Tim noticed a corner filled with soccer gear. He recognized it as Adam's. Tim remembered that Myriam's older brother played for the varsity team at the university.

Myriam opened the door opposite the soccer gear, and Tim's jaw dropped. "What the-?"

The once pigeon blue walls of the home-office were now plastered with newspaper clippings, photos, and sticky notes. All connected with different coloured string.

"Myr," Tim turned to her, "You did this?"

She nodded, "Look," She walked towards the wall and pointed to the photo of Julius Cuntas, "This guy played striker on my brother's team. He also dealt," she stated.

"How do you know that?"

"Adam told me," She answered, "So, I looked into him. No record. But, his brother," Myriam pointed to another photo connected with a blue string, "Francisco Cuntas is a lieutenant for the Kaza Cartel."

"I don't follow," Tim lied.

"The guy they brought into the GCPD today was named Scott Campbell. He was part of the Street Demonz gang." Myriam continued, "But, everyone knows Street Demonz don't touch drugs. So what beef do they have with the Cartel to gun down one of their street soldiers who is also the brother of one of their lieutenants?" Myriam pointed at various photos and news articles and rested her index finger on the photo of her brother, "Something's not right." She muttered.

"Myr," Tim pulled at her sweater, "Did you get any sleep last night?"

She shook her head, "I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about this puzzle."

"How long have you been working on this?" He asked curiously, pointing at the wall.

"The minute I came home from dropping my dad off at the airport," she answered and looked back at the wall, "shit," she whispered and ran to the office computer a few steps away and started typing something into the search engine, "Shit, shit, shit," she kept repeating.

"What is it?"

"You were gone; but, a few weeks ago, this guy turned up in the river. The news article reported that it was a gang-related killing," Myriam pulled up the article and Tim skimmed through it, "The article also states that the victim was possibly part of the Hanoi Ten gang."

Tim read the by-line. Vicky Vale wrote the article, obviously. "Okay, what does this all mean, Myr?"

"I'm not sure yet," She stared back at the wall, "But the shooting that killed my brother… it wasn't just a simple drive-by. It's the beginning of something big."

Tim sat in the swivel chair in front of the computer and looked at Myriam. He focused on the way she continued rubbing her thumb and forefinger and staring at the photo plastered wall. He wanted to tell her that she was right. Something big was happening and the shooting that killed her brother was just a starting pistol. How could he help her without giving her his secret, or Dick's secret or Bruce's?

"What do you need me to do?" He finally asked her.

Myriam turned to Tim and stopped the gambling fingers, "I know who you are," she confessed.

"Huh?"

"I figured it out after you left last night. Well, I kind of always had a feeling that you weren't just Tim Drake, but last night I figured it out," she continued, "Everything kind of makes sense now too, really. The lame excuses, the dozing off in Calculus, the bruises, and broken bones. The disappearance of Robin when you left, and the appearance of Red Robin the same time you came back to Gotham… it all makes sense now."

"I'm not really sure what you're talking about, Myr." He stammered.

"Can you please just stop lying to me?" She hissed, "I need you to help me figure this out."

"Then, what?" Tim challenged, "You're going to go after whoever's organizing this and take them down yourself?" Tim's eyes widened when he realized what he said.

"You knew?" She asked angrily.

"I just figured it out this morning," He replied calmly, "They're trying to start a gang war so their competition takes themselves out so they can rule the Gotham underworld." He explained.

"What's your next step?"

"I'm going to—" Tim stopped, "No, no. I am not telling you."

"I swear to God, Tim." Myriam pushed him in the chair, "If you don't tell me and let me help take this down—"

"Myr, you're not trained for this!"

"So train me!" She shouted back.

Tim got up from the seat; he zipped up his sweater and started walking to the door. "Can I depend on you to keep this conversation between us?" Tim could see her nostrils flaring, "I'll see what I can do." He added.

"They took my brother from me," She started crying, "If this gets bigger, who else are they going to kill? Is Ives going to be caught in another shooting on his way from the hospital? Is our school going to be attacked again?"

"I will never let that happen again, Myr." He hugged her, "I know how you feel. But, you can't just wear a mask and start throwing batarangs. I trained for months before I was allowed on the streets."

Myriam pushed herself away, "I'm not going to pretend that I can do what you guys can; but I know how to fight. I went to military camp every summer. I learned how to aim a gun, bow and arrow, and I learned how to fight. All I'm asking Tim, is for you to give me a chance to help." She explained.

"I'll see what I can do," he repeated and walked out the door.

…

"Dick, I don't know what do." Tim mumbled walking into the bunker.

"I told Gordon about the possible gang war. The GCPD are bracing themselves-"

"Not that," Tim interrupted, "Myriam figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

Tim pointed to his uniform in the display case, "That," he stated.

"Shit,"

"You're a fool, Drake." Damian entered the room in his Robin uniform, "You let her discover our secret."

"Well, I don't know if she knows everything… I just know that she knows who I am." Tim tried to defend himself. "She also figured out that a gang war is coming," Tim added almost with pride.

"How?"

"She had a pretty impressive web of intel," Tim admitted, "She even taught me a few things I was missing from the puzzle."

"Drake, if she could figure that out, she must dense to not have figured out who Robin and Batman are." Damian sneered.

"It's Batman and Robin, Damian." Dick corrected.

"Robin and Batman has better ring to it," Damian replied.

"What are you going to do?" Dick asked Tim while putting his uniform on.

"She wants to help,"

"You're going to let her?" Dick asked apprehensively.

"I don't know, Dick."

"She's come a long way; but, Stephanie 'died'" Dick did air quotes, "during the last gang war… do you want Myriam to—"

Tim groaned, "I do know that whether or not I allow Myr to help, she will."

"Think about it," Dick cautioned his little brother, "You going on patrol tonight?"

Tim nodded as he walked away to the elevator, "Yeah, I'll be out in a bit."

Tim took the elevator up to the penthouse in Wayne Tower. Stephanie and Barbara took over the cave at the Manor, and the boys control the bunker beneath Wayne Tower. He found Alfred in the kitchen cooking, "Alfred," Tim called.

"Good evening, Master Timothy. Will you be joining me for supper?" Alfred asked.

"I can't, Al." Tim replied, "Something—"

"Yes, Master Richard told me of the incoming battle," Alfred interrupted, "What in the heavens are you doing here?"

"I need your advice, Al."

"Is this about your friend? The one whose brother passed?"

Tim nodded, "She knows my secret and she knows that a war is coming. She… she wants to help."

"When I was in the Queen's Service, my team and I had been deployed to Vietnam." Alfred annotated, "We had found ourselves in a pub one night. Three men entered the pub violently and shot the woman serving us- in front of her husband. As the man cried holding his wife in his arms, the intruders stole the money he had made that night. Although we tried fighting the intruders, my men and I could not do very much. We had strict orders."

"That sounds like Gotham," Tim noted.

"Yes, well. Eventually, the husband gathered himself and grabbed the gun in the backroom. We tried to stop him. We told him we'd help him find the men that did this to him. He pushed us away and ran out the door. A few moments later we heard gunfire. The man had taken down two of the three intruders; however, he died in the process." Alfred described the events.

"I… I don't understand,"

Alfred smiled, "You're a very smart man, Timothy; you'll figure it out." And walked away.

"Great," Tim massaged his temples.

…

Myriam went up to her bedroom. She grabbed the darkest clothing she had from her dresser. A pair of black running tights, a black long sleeve dri-fit shirt and her black Nike trainers. She stepped in front of the mirror and examined the dark bags beneath her eyes, and her once radiant olive tone skin was now pale. She noticed a scratch on her nose. 'You have mom's nose' Adam would always remind her of their mother who passed away when Myriam was 12. Myriam grabbed a black toque and left her house. It was nearly midnight in Gotham, and she knew that that's when the party started.

She had to get more information. Her first stop was in the East End, that's where the phonebook said Markus Brown lives.

She entered the apartment of Markus Brown through the window. It was destroyed. Broken glass, lamps, and papers thrown across the apartment, and the sofa was missing its cushions. Someone was here looking for something, Myriam deducted. And Markus was either taken or fled.

She searched around in hopes to find something that could help her figure out who the puppet master was in this whole situation. Besides old pizza and beer bottles, she found nothing. She exited the same way she entered and jumped to streets. When her feet landed on the ground, she saw two men standing on the side of the alley heating up beside a trash can fire pit.

"Hey!" Myriam called out to them, "You guys know who lives in apartment 4B?" She points to the window she just crawled out of a few moments ago.

"We don't know nothin'," One man answered disgruntled.

Myriam sighed, "You sure?" She asked again, "Because, I think one of you knows something."

"Listen, lady, we stand here and try to be warm. We don't intervene." The other man said.

"I respect that. But you see, the man in that apartment building killed my brother. I need him to answer to what he did." She explained, "So, if you know where he went or who trashed his apartment, I'd really appreciate that."

"Was you in his apartment?" The first man questioned, "'Cuz ya' see, that's called breaking and entering and that don't seem right."

"We don' appreciate people breaking and entering into other people's homes," the other man added, "You oughta leave."

"Listen," Myriam replied impatiently, "I need to know where he went. You guys have a camp set up out here so you must have seen someth—"

"We said LEAVE!" the first man yelled.

"I'm not leaving until I get answers," Myriam replied stubbornly.

"The gentlemen asked you to leave," A woman in black leather appeared on the fire escape of Markus Brown's apartment.

"And I said I'm not leaving until I get answers," Myriam repeated, "I don't believe I'm breaking any laws." She bluffed.

"Honey, you're in the East End, my word is law." The woman hissed.

"I'm. Not. Leaving."

The woman dropped from the fire escape and Myriam could see the silhouette of the cat ears, "I don't like repeating myself. So get the hell out of my home!" She roared.

"One of your people killed my brother, I'm not leaving until I get answers!" Myriam replied.

The woman took a step forward, "Who?"

"Markus Brown," Myriam answered, "He lives up there. He's not home and his place has been trashed. I need to know where he went, Catwoman."

The woman paused in deep thought.

"Follow me," She ordered Myriam.

Myriam followed her up the fire escape and to the top of the building—Catwoman had to help her with the last step.

"You've got spunk, kid." Catwoman told her.

"Thanks?"

"Take a seat," Catwoman pointed to a crate on the roof.

Myriam sat down.

"What's your name?"

"Myriam."

"Markus has been missing since last week," Catwoman told her, "You think he killed your brother?"

"According to the police, he did." Myriam answered, "It was in the shooting outside of the Galleria last week."

"Hmm… yes, I heard of that. I'm sorry to hear your brother died." Catwoman paced slyly across the roof, "Why not let the police handle Markus?"

Myriam looked at the leather-clad woman. Her lips scarlet red and her bangs showed from beneath her head-covering mask. She, obviously, doesn't resort to the police for her problems.

"I need to leave," Myriam stood up.

"I asked you a question." Catwoman said angrily sensing Myriam's distrust towards her.

"And I decided not to answer it," Myriam began walking back to the fire escape.

"Get back here!" Catwoman ordered.

"I've got work to do, lady." Myriam cursed.

Catwoman threw her whip around Myriam's arm and pulled her back, "I do not appreciate disrespectful kids who come onto my End and bother my citizens."

Myriam removed the whip, "You're psycho!" She stood up hurriedly, "And, I don't appreciate people who don't mind their own business!" She yelled and ran towards Catwoman and threw a punch that was quickly dodged.

"You can't beat me," Catwoman dropped and swept her foot across Myriam's leg. Before Catwoman could succeed, Myriam jumped and did a back handspring to dodge it. Myriam sprung back to a defensive stance—knees bent, feet shoulder-width apart, and fists up.

As Catwoman began to charge forward, she was pulled back by a figure behind her.

"What the hell is going on here?" Batman growled.