Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, Warner Bros. Entertainment, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Hey, y'all! Welcome back. I know, I know, I said this was gonna wait until late January/early February and it's not even the end of the year yet, but I watched The Dark Knight again recently and I got very, very excited to write this, so here we are.

A few notes on this story, before you dive in: I'm once again kind of playing sandbox with the DCEU here. I've always envisioned Gotham in the DCEU (well, in general, really) as being real-life Newark/Jersey City, and Elizabeth and Edgewater are real life places near them. I've made two certain characters related, but considering I've also made Harley and Peter Bruce/Tony's sons, I don't think you guys will mind too much. The Joker I've imagined for this universe takes inspiration from both Ledger and Leto, he's not really set as either one. You're gonna see some similarities to both of them, but also some differences.

Oh, also: story title comes from The Little Man Who Wasn't There by Odd Chap. This chapter title comes from Take the Night by Odd Chap and Octavia Rose. Very good songs, if you haven't heard them before. Highly recommend.

Anyways, not too sure when the next update will be. Hopefully soon.

Regardless, I hope you all enjoy,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~the black and gold 'verse~

~the little man who wasn't there~

~chapter 1: take the night~

Gotham was always particularly rowdy around the holidays.

One of the first lessons that people learned when they moved to the city which was affectionately known as New York City's evil twin was that the crime life was always active. The government was corrupt, with it not being uncommon for a politician to get caught red handed every now and then. Roughly 20% of all the restaurants partook in at least some money laundering. If you were an omega or a beta woman, you shouldn't walk out at night at all, except only for emergencies or when you had an alpha at your side. If you weren't, it was still better to walk at night in groups anyways, at least in the worst parts of the city, such as the East End of Coventry (the west and main borough of Gotham, comparable to Manhattan, with Elizabeth being to the south, Brideshead to the north, and Edgewater to the east) and the entirety of the Narrows, which was what Edgewater was more commonly known as.

Of course, things had gotten better since Batman had stepped onto the scene seven and a half years ago, or so was the opinion of most of the general public. The Riddler had been a terrifying blip to deal with, but so far, criminals had been less brazen, more wary in doing their crimes. They didn't go away completely, as that would be impossible to ask, nor did their rates lower to the same as that of Chicago, much less New York, but people were safer. Gotham was safer. That was what they believed.

Bruce was...not as optimistic.

He let out a hot breath as he stood on the rooftop of a low-rise, looking down at the streets of the city. He was on the border of Coventry and the Narrows, and the difference between them was practically night and day. On one side, you had nicer buildings, which quickly became higher and higher the farther you looked, with Wayne Tower being the tallest of them all. On the other, the buildings mostly remained the same, but they were not as nice, and most of them older. There was no point in building newer constructions when they would be marred in either robberies or turf wars, and if you could fix something when it was broke instead of replacing it...

In the cold January air, he heard a set of light footsteps behind him, approaching. Their sound was purposeful. Turning around, he saw their source. "Catwoman," he said.

Selina smiled at him sunnily. "Bats," she returned. They never called each other by their real names when they were out as their personas, not ever since they had first teamed up to take down the Riddler. "How are you this fine evening?"

"Good. You?"

"Pleasantly chilly."

He knew theirs wasn't a partnership that had first made sense in most people's eyes. He was a vigilante, and she had been the most notorious burglar in the entire city. But then they'd gone after the Riddler together, and she had sworn off burglary for good after he'd shown her that Gotham – and herself – could be something else than what intended, and she had met Tony. Then, before he'd known it, she'd been helping him with his patrols, and become a part of his family.

Looking back, he wouldn't have it any other way.

But they weren't the only ones in this partnership anymore. They heard the indicators of their third person on the rooftop and both flitted their eyes towards her. "Black Canary," he greeted the blonde-haired woman.

She'd only been a vigilante for two months, ever since her fiancé had been killed. Her real name was Dinah Drake; she was a twenty-six-year-old forensic scientist for the Gotham PD, and a single mother of twins a month older than Peter, named Laurel and Tim. The three of them lived with her mother, Janet. Similar to Bucky, Dinah was enhanced: after an accident with a particle accelerator at STAR Labs when she was sixteen, she'd developed the ability of sonic screams.

She hadn't met Tony or the rest of the family sans Selina yet. Bruce had tried to get her to come with him to the Glass House before, either in-costume or not and with her family, but she'd refused. "I'm not getting my personal life caught up in my work," she'd said, her eyes flashing. "Not again."

He was honoring her wishes.

For the most part, he was a man of his word.

"Batman, Catwoman," Dinah replied. "What's the plan for tonight?"

"Standard infiltration," he said.

"You say that like it means something to me."

"Bats is used to talking in our code language," Selina teased, patting his shoulder.

He glared at her. "Catwoman."

She acted like he hadn't spoken. "What he means is we're going to be taking down one of the main warehouses of one of the Narrows crime lords. Knock out as many goons and henchmen as we can, hopefully the crime lord too. Wrap them up all nice and pretty for Gotham's finest, and leave just as they arrive."

Underneath her domino mask, Dinah made a face. "Goons and henchmen?"

"There's a difference. Henchmen believe in the cause, goons are there just for the paycheck."

Silence.

Selina cackled. "Oh, I am so telling your husband you said that the next time I see him."

Bruce grimaced. If any civilians were there to see them, he had no doubt they would say it was entirely uncharacteristic of the Batman. "Please, don't. I won't live it down."

"You don't deserve to," she shot back, retorting smugly. "He'll be thrilled to hear you're finally using the terminology he came up with."

Dinah placed a hand on her hip. "Alright, alright. Who's the crime lord we're going after?"

Bruce and Selina shared a look. He silently asked her, "Who's going to tell her?"

"I don't know. I thought you would."

"Really?"

"You're the serious one, aren't you?"

Out loud, he said, "Red Hood."

Although her eyes were obscured by the lenses of her domino mask, they could still see by the movements of her face that they were widening. "What?"

It didn't need to be said that Red Hood was one of the most prolific crime lords in Gotham, potentially to be the United States as a whole if he wasn't stopped soon. He'd appeared in 1992, and since then had grown his territory to comprise approximately half of the Narrows. His name, in Tony's opinion (and Bruce's, but his husband was always the most vocal about it when he appeared on the news for one reason or another), was kind of stupid. He wore a green cloak, like Robin Hood, so technically his name should have been Green Hood, or the name of the very hero he styled himself after. But he wore a red helmet over his face, and one of the news reporters during his beginnings had accidentally called him Red Hood because of it, and so the name had stuck.

To say Bruce did not like the bastard was an understatement. When he took down thugs even outside of the Narrows, 10% of the time they could be traced back to Red Hood. One out of every ten criminals could be connected to him. Not to mention, he was the killer of Dick's biological parents. Bruce would always be glad for his eldest son, because he was his son and he couldn't imagine a life without him, but in another life Dick could have grown up with his amither and omither instead of having to watch them be killed in front of him...

But, he digressed. In the past, he and Selina had never been able to take Red Hood down. His mafia was quite a bit like the Nazi-Organization-That-Must-Not-Be-Named in that regard. But that was about to change.

Tonight, they were going to take him down for good, or at least take out most of his cannon fodder.

"...Are you sure you want me on this particular 'infiltration?'" Dinah asked, hunching in on herself nervously.

"I understand if you don't want to do this," he replied. His and Selina's plans for this had been in place for over a year now. They weren't reliant on her involvement. "But we would not be asking you to come with us if we didn't trust you."

In only two months, she had come a far way.

After a moment to think about it, his confidence bolstered her. "No, I want to come," she said with a shake of her head. "When do we head over there?"

He smiled grimly. "Now."

They ran on the rooftops, covered in snow as they were. The warehouse that served as Red Hood's headquarters was located along the water, as were most of the warehouses in the Narrows, hence the borough's actual name of Edgewater. Like the other buildings in it, none of them were anything more than adequate: they could be trusted for short-term storage and delivery, but anything beyond that you would be better off with getting the services of the warehousing districts in Elizabeth.

On the other side of the Hudson River, four miles across from the north- to southmost points of Edgewater, Manhattan glittered in the night. He appreciated the sight. The views of both cities were always so beautiful at night, and it wasn't too long ago that his husband had been living in New York City, before they'd gotten married. Many nights, he'd paused in his patrols to look at the other side of the river, thinking about what Tony had been doing at that moment. How soon it would be until they were together, even if Tony hadn't wanted the life they'd made with each other.

There were guards standing watch outside of the warehouse when they got there, wearing green-and-brown outfits and holding guns. The three vigilantes met at a vantage point where they couldn't be seen by them, at least not easily. "What's the plan?" Dinah asked.

"I'm serving as the distraction," he explained to her. "I will be using my claw to get on top of the roof and crash down through the sun windows. You'll be taking out the guards in front, using your screams." She nodded at this. "Catwoman will be coming in behind you, and calling the police."

Dinah was experienced enough now that she didn't question their odds, three versus a minimum of sixty criminals. Or maybe she just knew better than to ask. "Any advice?"

Selina grinned, showing off her sharp teeth in the moonlight. "Don't die."

"Shit! It's Batman!" one of the guards shouted as he flew over them minutes later, his black cape fanning out behind him.

He heard the sound of gunshots and felt several bullets whiz past him, but he was already on top of the roof before the guards on the ground could do too much of anything. An ear-splitting scream literally shook the air, and then he heard the guards screaming on top of it and the falling of bodies.

Bruce didn't stay where he was long enough to pay attention to the rest. Stepping towards the sun windows, he fired a pocket explosive at the glass, causing it to explode. Shards rained down on the thugs below. They were followed by explosive pellets, which released a form of gas that would knock out anyone in its wake. He put on his collapsible gas mask so he wouldn't have to deal with those effects, and trusted Selina and Dinah to do the same.

Getting rid of most of the criminals who hadn't been initially incapacitated was short work. Bullets ricocheted off of the titanium plates over his chest and back, sandwiched by a thin layer of Kevlar. Only one person came close to shooting him in the face, and he quickly knocked the female alpha out with a brutal blow to her head. She would undoubtedly have a concussion when she woke up.

Some of Red Hood's people scattered – the ones Tony would have called "the goons." Bruce did not let them get very far. He followed after them, heading deeper into the warehouse, down to the next floor, two of three. More cronies were there waiting for him.

The minutes began to drag on, turning from the five he'd counted to six...

...Seven...

...Eight...

...Nine...

...Ten...

...Eleven...

...Twel –

He heard more gunshots than usual from the floor below, and a sonic scream, thankfully muffled by his comms, which Tony had made to also function as earplugs ever since they'd recruited Dinah.

But then, everything stopped. An eerie quiet settled beneath him.

Before he could question it too much, his comms activated. "Batman."

Selina hardly ever called him by the full name of his persona. She only ever used it in one type of situations, really: the dangerous ones.

He stiffened, even as he threw a beta man onto the floor. "Catwoman."

"We need you to come down here."

He still had this floor to clear.

Bruce did the calculations in his head. Throwing two more explosive pellets at the handful of thugs running away from him, he marched towards a section of flooring he'd noticed to be lighter. Exchanging his gas mask out for another pocket explosive, he threw it at the floor, turning his head to the side as it blew up. The edges of what was now a rim where charred as he jumped through it. He knocked out the two guards that were in the room in short order.

In his opinion, this was the most surprising aspect to Red Hood's operations. His people weren't the smartest; in fact, the low-levels were pretty darn stupid when compared to the other gangs that worked Gotham. They were reminiscent of the Tracksuit Mafia in New York, even. But Red Hood had the numbers, more than almost everybody else. He was able to turn people over to his cause like the drop of a hat.

That was what made him so dangerous.

Bruce brought down the wall in front of him with another explosive. The room that was on the other side of it was larger than most of the others, save for the storage ones. The throne-like chair in the center made it obvious that this was where Red Hood reigned, compounded by how the crime lord himself was standing right next to it. Holding a knife to Dinah's neck.

Bruce's breath caught.

Dinah.

"Look what I've caught: a bird, a cat, and a bat," Red Hood drawled. He used a voice modulator to mask his real one, but the smugness in his tone translated through anyways. "Well, I've only caught the Canary, really. But you're not going to go after me as long as I have her in my arms, are you?"

Selina sneered as she had her gun trained on him.

Bruce clenched his right hand into a fist, poised to throw a punch. "Red Hood."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Batman. You, too, Catwoman, of course. Both of you have made my work in the past five and a half years easy," Red Hood taunted. "Your recruit is cute. Stylish suit, a name that fits your pattern. She's got fire. She's got passion. It would be a shame if she was...snuffed out."

"Let...go...of me," Dinah hissed. She made a move to kick him from behind.

Red Hood dodged her attempt fluidly. "You don't want to do that, my dear. One small move and I'll kill you," he purred. "And I don't really want to do that. Pretty bird like you, with quite the voice...it'd be such a shame." He tightened his hold on her. "So, let me make this easy for all of us. Batman and Catwoman let me go, I let you live to see another day of fighting crime, and we all go home happy."

"Not...a chance."

"Canary," Bruce said.

She went quiet.

"You're the rookie, pretty bird," Red Hood said. "You're not in charge here."

Bruce's eyes flitted between the doorway that would lead to the front entrance of the warehouse and Red Hood. He could hear sirens in the distance, if he strained his ears. The police were coming. "You're not going to get very far."

"Oh, I know. Not on my own. Which is why," he jerked his head, "you're going to take me out the back exit while Catwoman stays here. Come on, I don't have all day. Neither will Canary here, if I don't have my way." He made a noise that sounded like the beginning of a laugh, only to stop himself at the last second.

Bruce filed away the information for later, glancing over at Selina.

She subtly nodded.

When Red Hood walked over to the one door, he followed after him. They walked down the halls, where knocked out (or dead – Selina didn't mind proclaiming she didn't have the same "hangups" he did due to her time in the Red Room, albeit she refrained from doing it too much out of respect for him) minions of Red Hood laid. They stepped over and/or around them, until they reached the back exit. Red Hood had him open the door. They walked outside, a breeze from the river hitting them almost instantly, bringing with it a warmer temperature. Despite the small distance between Gotham and New York, their weather patterns could often be worlds apart.

"Thanks, Slick," Red Hood said.

Then, shoving Black Canary towards Bruce, he took out a gun. Bruce was able to turn himself around to protect Dinah just in the nick of time, but as a result, Red Hood was able to take off into the night.

"Stay here!" Bruce ordered Dinah. She jolted in his arms, as if he'd given an alpha order. He knew he hadn't, though. He'd never given an alpha order before, and he never would.

Taking off after Red Hood, he ran north, between the river and the warehouses. Gravel crunched beneath his feet. The noise of the police sirens got closer and yet further away at the same time.

He saw Red Hood throw open the door of a warehouse – probably another one under his control. Bruce ran in after him.

The warehouse was obviously one solely for storage. There were rows and rows of boxes on all the three floors, probably filled with drugs, and guns, and who knew what else. But in the center of the entire building, as the top two floors opened up there, was a giant cylindrical vat. A glass window on its side, as well as the smell in the air, revealed it to contain a whitish-green chemical fluid. Of unknown type.

An uneasy feeling settled into his stomach.

It wasn't even a year ago, after all, that he'd had his own experience with an unknown chemical, although it had been in a natural pool instead of a vat.

(Gasping as he stood up in the water – except it wasn't water – his vision colored like he was looking through sea glass. Voices were whispering at him, but there were so many of them they might as well have been the overwhelming roar of the ocean's waves during a storm.

"You can't leave yet, son. There's still more you have to do," said a voice he recognized, but didn't know who it belonged to. "You have your family to take care of."

"We love you, Bruce," said another, feminine. "Our deaths weren't your fault. You have to remember that."

Bruce.

Was that his name? He didn't know. Did he have a family? He didn't know that, either. He didn't know who he was. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know anything at all.

"You were the best cousin a girl ever could've asked for, Brucie," said a third voice, also feminine. It was younger than the other two, sounding around fourteen or so. His mind scrambled, reaching for an identity...Kate? But that didn't make sense. Kate had died years ago, from cancer. "I'm sorry for what you're gonna go through."

"Protect my husband, Bruce," spoke a fourth voice. This one was wholly unfamiliar to him, and yet he felt like he should know it. "Alfred deserved better than what happened to me and our daughter."

But these were only four voices of hundreds, thousands, millions.

And he couldn't get all of the others to stop.

"Shut up," he said, clamping his hands over his ears. But they did nothing to dull the cacophony. Because it was like the voices were speaking inside his head, not around it. "Shut up!"

"Брюс."

"Make it stop!"

"Брюс, посмотри на меня."

"Make it sto – !")

Bruce saw Red Hood running up one of the sets of stairs. He went after him. "You're not going to get away, Red Hood," he called out to him. "It's time to stop running."

"I'm not going to prison!" Red Hood singsonged. "Sorry to say. The institution just ain't built for guys like me."

Gunshots came after him. Bullets bounced off of his chest. One flew past his cheek.

Bruce used his claw to pull himself up to the second floor. He landed right in front of Red Hood, causing the crime lord to snarl. "You just don't know when to stop, do you?"

Bruce grabbed him by the throat. "I could say the same for you," he stated as Red Hood clawed at his hand. "The Narrows were already bad before you entered the scene, but you've made them worse. Money laundering, human trafficking, prostitution, murder."

Red Hood wheezed. "Agree...to disagree," he said. "Not to...mention...hypocritical. How's the kid...by the way? The one...you loaned out...to Wayne."

"Loaned out."

The growl rumbled in his throat. "Don't you dare talk about him."

Red Hood began to laugh. And then he kept on laughing, as if he couldn't stop.

Bruce began to march him towards the stairs, to take him down and out of the warehouse.

Suddenly, however, the main doors to the warehouse burst open. "Police! Drop your weapons!"

For some reason, Bruce was distracted by them more than he cared to admit. Red Hood used this to his advantage. Kicking away from him, he ran down the catwalk of the second floor, still laughing.

In a case of reversed roles, one of the police officers fired at him. Most of his bullets missed, because Gotham was never that good at training their rookies, but as for one –

Red Hood stopped laughing as a bullet ripped through his shoulder. He grabbed at it, groaning as red seeped through his fingers, and leaned against the railing to the catwalk.

And then he fell over it, toppling.

Right into the vat of chemicals.

"Red Hood!" Bruce shouted.

He used his claw to pull the man out of the chemicals, jumping over the railing himself so he could catch him and land on the ground of the first floor. Despite having only been in the pool for exactly eight seconds, Red Hood was unresponsive as Bruce set him on the floor, the metal of his claw hissing as it burned from the chemicals all the while.

This probably did not bode well for Red Hood's chances, he couldn't help but think.

Bruce took off Red Hood's helmet without another thought. Underneath was revealed his face. There were some sort of scars trailing up his cheeks, beginning at the corners of his mouth. But they looked like they had been there a while, and they weren't nearly as important as the man's unfocused eyes, or the fact his lips were already turning blue. Or how the chemical was having some sort of reaction with his skin, turning it...whiter, as if he was being bleached.

"Shit, I didn't think," he heard the rookie cop say.

Bruce didn't look up. "Call an ambulance!" he roared.

Suddenly, Red Hood began to jerk. He was having a seizure. Bruce moved around, coming behind his head to support him as he began to foam at the mouth. "Red Hood!" he ordered. "Red Hood, stay with me!"

Red Hood's seizure lasted for thirty seconds exactly. When it was over, he let out a loose breath, but that was all. His lips were now completely blue. He wasn't breathing.

Bruce quickly checked for his pulse. He didn't have a heartbeat, either.

He sprung into action. Maneuvering around once more, he put his hands together to perform chest compressions. It was the best and only thing he could do. With Red Hood's lips covered in the glossy sheen of the chemicals, he couldn't perform the artificial ventilation that went with the compressions to form CPR. He didn't know what the reaction was doing to the man.

(Well, technically, he could've. But Tony had made him promise before not to "endanger yourself too much" when it came to him being a vigilante, because he had him and their family to return to at the end of every night of patrol. And like he'd said, he was usually a man of his word.)

Bruce did not know how long he performed the chest compressions. He didn't count the minutes. The police stood around him uselessly the entire time.

But eventually, a gloved hand grasped one of his arms. He looked up and saw that it belonged to a paramedic. Her face was sympathetic as she regarded him. "Batman," she said softly. "It's over."

He looked back down at Red Hood. He was unmoving.

Bruce had lost people during his work before. He was completely against killing them, had always been against killing them, which was why he had left Nepal despite only having trained there for three months during the summer between his first and second years of college, disagreeing with him completely and vehemently on how to treat criminals. But he had seen people die indirectly because of him before, discounting the ones Selina had killed. People fall from rooftops or take bullets to the torso, because of his interference.

It never got any easier. Admitting defeat with Red Hood was paramount to admitting he had killed him himself, indirect as this time was as well. No matter how much most people would say he probably deserved it.

Still, he sat back. He bowed his head as the paramedic shut Red Hood's eyes. "You did everything you could," she said. "Thank you."

But he hadn't.

He hadn't.

Bruce got to his feet. He turned around from the police officers and paramedics, heading to the nearest exit. Dinah and Selina were standing near it, the former's face utterly wracked with guilt. "Batman," she said.

"Don't," he spat.

She flinched back.

Selina gave him a knowing look. He knew she would explain to Dinah that he wasn't angry at her. It wasn't her fault that all of this had happened, not even her getting caught by Red Hood.

But he was angry at himself.

Tony was asleep by the time he entered their room around three-thirty in the morning, after he had already checked on their children.

Bruce took a moment to look at him in the doorway, before he closed it behind himself. In the light, laying on his stomach and drooling into Bruce's pillow as he had his arms wrapped around it, he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. It was like he was an angel, pure and perfect and much more than Bruce ever deserved. After all these years, he still couldn't believe that Tony had chosen him, hadn't wanted their marriage to just be a front for his own safety. He was his mate, the omither of their five children together, the love of his life.

The door shut behind him, he took off the black, form-fitting suit he wore under his Batman costume, letting it pool to the floor, until he was just in his underwear. Then he laid down on his side of the bed and rubbed Tony's shoulder gently. It wasn't to wake him, but the omega stirred anyways, until he was blinking those wondrous dark brown eyes up at him. "...Alpha?"

"Omega," Bruce returned. He leaned down to kiss his forehead, but his husband started to sit up at the same time, so he caught his lips instead.

He wasn't going to complain about that.

"How was..." Tony trailed off for a yawn. "Patrol?"

Bruce hesitated. "It wasn't just a patrol tonight."

"Oh, yeah." His husband pressed a hand to his temple, rubbing it. "You told me about that. Did you get Red Hood?"

"Do you have a headache?" he attempted to change the subject, cupping Tony's hand with his own.

"No, it was just a long day at work. But you already knew that, don't change the subject. Did you get Red Hood or not?"

"...In a matter of speaking," he was forced to admit. "He's dead."

Through the darkness, he could see comprehension and sympathy dawn on Tony's face. "Oh, Bruce, I'm so sorry." He reached over to the nightstand on his side of the bed, turning on the light. Then he turned on the TV, putting it on mute and flipping it over to their news station of choice. The press was already reporting on Red Hood's death, showing live footage of the warehouses in the Narrows. Bruce flinched. "Sorry, I'll turn it off."

Bruce shook his head. "No, it's fine. I just...want you."

Tony immediately pulled him into a hug. Gratefully, Bruce breathed in his scent, nuzzling at his mating gland. "Well, I'm right here. You can have me."

He chuckled. "I love you."

Tony poked his shoulder. "You're a sap. But, I love you too."

"I'm always a sap for you."

"You know it."

When they pulled away, Tony turned off the light and then burrowed into his side as he laid down. Bruce wrapped an arm around him, nipping at one of his ears in that way he knew the omega loved. "Sorry for waking you."

"No, it's fine," Tony said. His eyelids were already drooping shut. He needed his sleep more than he'd care to admit, since if he had it his way, he would be up at night all the time to work on one of his various projects. "I always like it when you wake me. Lets me know that you've come home safe."

"I'll strive to do it more in the future, then."

"Mmph."

Tony fell back asleep quickly. Bruce did not. He watched the news for another hour and ten minutes, until his body forced him into the realm of dreams at a quarter till five. The TV remained on mute, but with the help of captions he was able to understand what the reporters were saying. They were commending him, Selina, and Dinah for their actions tonight in taking down Red Hood, him especially for his efforts in trying to resuscitate the man. He was being called a hero.

He didn't feel like a hero.

If anything, he felt a tightening in his stomach, like his intestines were twisting into knots. He didn't know why it was there, but he was certain of one thing: it was a bad feeling. Like he was on the...precipice of something.

What that "something" was, he couldn't say for sure.

Word Count: 5,250

Next Chapter Title: where the wind blows