Chapter Five

"Batman, it took a while but I found Allen Smitheson. He lives at an apartment alone, his landlord said he moved in three days ago or so. I'm sending the coordinates to you now." Oracle told Batman. "And on an entirely different subject. Have you heard from Nightwing at all?"

Batman sighed and glared at the elevator leading up to the manor. "Yes, Nightwing is over here. I'll tell him to contact you." he instructed Oracle to send him the address. He donned his Batman suit and turned to follow up on the lead when he found himself face-to-face with his young partner.

"Let me go." Batman let out a sigh at Tim's resolute expression and nodded reluctantly.

"Call me if you need backup." Tim nodded and rushed off to find his suit.

"He's really Allen's friend, isn't he?" Batman cut the connection.

Half an hour later, Timothy Drake reached the address and told the landlord that Allen was expecting him for a study session. He was led up and let into the apartment but Allen was nowhere to be found. He caught sight of a scrap of paper that was tacked to the table and ripped it off. He ran his eyes over the simple, to the point words and crushed it in his hands. The words echoed in his mind unbidden. 'I'm sorry, Tim.'

"So, what's the deal with him?" Nightwing asked as he watched Tim stomp angrily from the Batcave, across the kitchen where he and Alfred were peacefully conversing, and up to his room. He heard his younger brother slam the door as hard as he could, sending echoes through the old manor. When Bruce appeared in the kitchen a moment later, he looked as though he thought the manor would crumble and collapse about their ears.

"What happened?" The same question with different wording. Alfred wondered why the two of them were looking to him to suddenly know all the answers. He let out a sigh and picked up a plate of freshly baked cookies.

"I will go see if the damage to the manor can be fixed."

Drake took the opportunity of Alfred, Bruce, and Tim being out of the manor when he approached. If he was going to catch Malak, he needed no distractions. "I swear! He was so mad! He didn't talk to us, he slammed his door shut, and even Alfred's cookies couldn't bribe him to talk!" Drake winced at the unfamiliar voice on the other side of the door ranting on about someone, who he guessed to be Tim. The door flew open and Richard 'Dick' Grayson Wayne stood at the door with a cellphone wedged between his cheek and shoulder. He covered the microphone with his left hand. Drake guessed he was on the phone with a friend. "Sorry, do you need something?" he asked him.

"Um, yeah. I was hoping to find Tim. We had a fight and I just wanted to apologize to him. Is he here?" Drake asked, desperately hoping that the news of his infiltrating the Wayne Manor hadn't reached Grayson's ears yet.

"Uh huh," Dick hummed, half listening. "I'll tell him you stopped by..." he frowned slightly at the phone under his cheek. "What? I can't hear you properly! Okay, I'll be right there." Drake let out a sigh. He would just have to do this the hard way.

He shoved Dick backward into the apartment and with a swift following kick, knocked him flat on his back. Before the man could regain his composure he straddled him and hung up the cellphone with his left hand as he slid a blade just above Dick's Adam's apple with his right. He raised his finger to his lips in the universal signal demanding silence. "Listen to me carefully Richard Grayson, your family is in danger, not only from me but from someone stronger. If you don't want them to die, I suggest you do something about it. Bruce and Timothy Wayne are already too protected for me to warn them myself, but that level of security is not enough. He'll kill them easily and get away with it. I can't let that happen. I want the assassin's life to end, and I'm sure you would like to let your family's to continue. So help me out." Dick lay perfectly still under the blade but managed to nod weakly. Right now, he wasn't Nightwing, a vigilante trained to fight. He was just Dick Grayson a Bludhaven cop.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked. Drake grabbed and fumbled with Dick's cellphone. He punched the redial button and placed it to the side of Dick's face.

"There's an upcoming charity event that the Waynes are invited to. Bruce Wayne will make a speech. I need you to tell... " Drake squinted at the cellphone's screen. "...Miss Gordon that you won't be going to the event. You live in Bludhaven and work a dangerous job. Make an excuse, go back to Bludhaven, and stay there." he ordered him. Dick licked his dry lips and did just that. It was hard for him to resist grabbing hold of Drake's wrist and wrestling the knife out of his hands. He guessed he could do it in two seconds flat. Again, he had to remind himself that he wasn't in his Nightwing persona.

Once the call was done with, Drake hung up and threw the phone to the other side of the room. "Remember, stay in Bludhaven. I could handle looking after two Waynes who have to be there, I don't need an extra problem. If you show up and get into trouble, I won't save you." Of course, that was a lie. Drake would save those he could, he never played favorites. But he would never feel guilt for those he couldn't save. Not ever. He knocked Dick unconscious and left.

An hour later, he walked into his new apartment building, registered under the name Darren Caroll, and let himself fall onto the couch, unaware of the tracker Dick had stuck on him. He groaned and sat back up a few minutes later. He had work to do.

He stopped and shoved his hand into his coat pockets as he arrived on the opposite side of the street of a brightly lit nightclub. He had come to the Penguin for a high powered gun. He met with the man a few minutes later. "I have here some smaller guns that would be more fitting for your size..." Penguin was saying something that Drake wasn't interested in knowing... again. He sighed and turned to look the arms dealer straight in the eye.

"I need a gun, loud, powerful, sparks when fired, automatic, and continuous. If you have a gun that doesn't meet these requirements, I'm not interested in it." he stated simply. "I need a diversion, not a weapon." Penguin squawked indignantly at not being spoken to respectfully but pulled out a gun for him. "This will do." Drake nodded approvingly.

"So, what do you think he wanted at Penguin's?" Oracle asked as Nightwing fluttered down on the roof of Penguin's nightclub.

"I have no idea. That's what I'm about to find out."

"Is he still there?"

Nightwing shook his head, then face-palmed when he realized the stupidity of his action. "No, he's gone. I'll go and talk to the Penguin and be right back on his tail in no time." ha assured the girl.

He left the line open and snuck into the Penguin's office. The man was just coming in from what seemed to be a satisfying dinner. "Enjoyed your meal, I see, ." Nightwing said, alerting the man of his presence. The Penguin squawked in alarm and gripped his umbrella tight before regaining his composure.

"What do you want?" he demanded angrily. "I'll call the police and have them arrest you for trespassing!" he threatened, pointing his umbrella at what smudge of blue he could see in the inky darkness.

Nightwing held his hands up defensively between them. "Woah! I didn't come here to fight you Penguin! Just to ask questions."

Penguin lowered his umbrella an inch to see the man better. "What questions? And be quick about it!"

"About someone who came here to see you recently. A kid, black hair, brown eyes, about yay high?" he held up his hand horizontally to his chest height. The Penguin seemed to have a person in mind.

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know what he wanted from you."

"What makes you think he wants something?"

"Oh, I don't think! Batman thinks. And if you don't want to answer to me, you can answer to him. Lets settle things quietly and less, er, violently between us two. Shall we?" Penguin blanched at the threat and nodded slowly.

"He wanted a gun."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow. "What kind of gun? And what for?"

Penguin sniffed huffily. "You think I know everything! I don't! He came, asked for a gun, he already had one on hand, mind you! He paid in cash and left!"

Nightwing nodded, sounded about right. "What kind of gun?"

"Loud, powerful, flashy, and automatic."

"And what did you give him?"

"Exactly what he asked for!"

Nightwing scowled but relented. "Goodnight, Penguin." and he was gone. What kind of assassin was Allen chasing if he needed a gun like that to take him down? He checked his GPS for the location of his tracker. He found it near the city hall and took off.