Somewhere in Gotham, D.A. Tyler Finch was shining a flashlight through the grimy halls of a warehouse, two security guards flanking him. Coming to a stop in front of one of the storage units, he pointed at the lock.

"This one," Finch said, gesturing to one of the security guards in a motion that meant he should open it.

"This one? This is Carmine Falcone's stuff, Mr. Finch."

"So?"

"We don't need to know what Carmine Falcone's doing."

"Look," said Finch turning around and pointing his finger in the man's face. "Things are going to be a little different around here. The cargo list said there were one-thousand and forty-five units. This is the one-thousand and forty-sixth… so I'm guessing there's something in here I'm not supposed to see. Now, open it up!"

The two guards exchanged a wary look, and the first one hit the weather-worn padlock with the butt of his gun. After a few times, the padlock was undone, and its rusty pieces fell to the floor. Finch reached forward and pulled the heavy door open, then peered his head around the door. Confused, he swung it further out and stepped inside, shining his flashlight on the one object sitting in the middle of the storage unit.

A metal-like box sat there, a circular window showing none of the inner workings of the machine. There was a lever to one side, and when Finch looked closely, he could see deep grooves lining the window, as if the box was meant to expand. Stepping closer to the machine, Finch ran his hand over it.

"What the…" he exclaimed, seeing the telltale logo of "Wayne Enterprises" on the bottom of the rightmost side.

As he leant down to run his fingers over the embossed letters, Finch shuddered suddenly. A severe pain went shrieking through his stomach, and his hand automatically went to the place. It brought it away slowly, raising his hand toward his face. His fingertips were tinged with red.

It took a few more moments for Finch to realize he had been shot. He looked incredulously at the security guard, who, with a grim look on his face, poured a few more rounds into the D.A.'s body, making sure he fell to the floor and stayed there.

The other guard closed the door on both the machine and the dead man, and they walked away.

oooooo

Reluctantly, Rosa had agreed to dinner and a night over at the Gordon's. She sat still, patient as the two boys, Sam and Max, ran circles around her. Abby, the girl, sat quietly in front of Rosa as she braided the young girl's hair.

"Boom, boom! You're dead!" Sam shouted. He was wearing a black sweater and had a towel around his shoulders, held into place by one of his mother's brooches.

Max, who had a leg of one of Ashley's nylons over his head, the other leg dangling down his back, began to wail and fall to the floor, dragging out his death scene by occasionally getting on his knees or coughing dramatically, all the while letting out shouts of indignation. "I'll get you, Batman…"

"Not while I've got anything to say about it," Sam replied, flapping his towel fiercely and jumping on the couch next to Rosa. After a couple of frantic flaps, he stood on his tiptoes on the cushion, clearly "flying."

Abby had her thumb stuck in her mouth, her wide eyes watching the antics of her two older brothers. "Uncy Jim thayth that Batman put a bad guy away in prithon. Is that true, Rotha?" she said softly with her toddler's lisp.

"Mmmhmmm," Rosa replied absentmindedly. She was more than a little pissed off that no one had picked up on the whole "red rose" thing. "Batman has a great press agent," she said lightly to Abby, putting the finishing touches on her braids.

"Preth agent?" Abby parroted, squirming around in Rosa's lap till she was facing her. Rosa laughed as she ran her hand over Abby's newly decorated hair. Wistfully, she glanced toward the door, where a duffel lay, stuffed with her La Rosa Rossa disguise. It had become a sort of security blanket, and Rosa carried it around with her always.

Abby snuggled herself further into Rosa's ribs, and she was brought back into reality by the weight of the four-year-old digging into her chest.

"Press agent. It means… someone who talks about you a lot so you can get famous." She hoped the little girl would understand her explanation, and Abby nodded her head solemnly.

"Kids! Rosa! Dinner!!" Ashley's voice called from the kitchen in the front room, and Rosa lifted Abby up, cradling her in her arms, and carried her to her highchair. Max and Sam reluctantly dropped their nylon stocking and towel, respectively, Max stuffing the nylon stocking in between cushions. They were vaguely aware that they shouldn't have borrowed their mother's clothing for such a thing as a make-believe adventure, even if it did deal with "Batman."

As they all settled into their chairs, Ashley served the goulash around to the kids, then passed a salad bowl around the adult side of the table.

Rosa was just picking a tomato out to top her salad when Jim smacked his head. "Well, that's wonderful. We missed the garbage for today, I totally forgot to put it out. I should do it now, I guess, that way I don't have to wait until next time." He got up from the table and went over to the kitchen sink, extracting a large plastic bag filled with garbage and strange odors, and crossed to the door.

He left it ajar as he went down the stoop, and Rosa heard the clanging of a garbage lid on a can. Then, it was silent. Jim slowly backed to the door and shut it with his hands behind him. He glanced sideways and up, and Rosa could see the profile of his face through the window from her spot at the table. She knew that face –

As quietly and quickly as she could, Rosa placed her napkin next to her plate and made a half-mumbled excuse to Ashley, then made her way to the door. Jim was now several feet to the side of it, so Rosa let down the blinds, and then, quick as lightning, opened the door, slid herself through, and shut it behind her with the minimal amount of noise.

"I need to know where the other half of the shipment was going," Batman was saying in his deep, growling voice.

"I-I don't know," Jim responded. "But," he added quickly, "I know the cop who covered the Falcone drug imports – Toby Fleiss. I don't know where he is right now, and he doesn't talk to anyone…"

"He'll talk to me," Batman said with confidence. Rosa didn't doubt it. Even if you knew that Batman was out doing good, his costume seemed to grow more frightening at each sight.

"I know where Fleiss is," Rosa said, stepping out of the shadow that the overhang on the stoop created. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that Batman had jumped, or jerked, or made some kind of sudden movement.

"Rosa…" Jim whispered under his breath, but Batman seemed to have heard.

"Officer Rosa Ducard, member of the Gotham Police Force," he growled.

"That's right. I know where Fleiss is – it's a Thursday night, so he's terrorizing the falafel stand down in the Narrows, at the junction of 121st and Vine. It's a T-intersection." Rosa paused, "You know, the police think you're just another one of the bad-guys, some public menace."

"What do you think?" Batman knelt down on top of the overhang.

Rosa opened her mouth to snap something back, but Jim interrupted her. Good thing, too, Rosa thought as Jim spoke.

"I think…. You're good, you want to give the city a chance." Rosa had been looking at Jim as he spoke, laying a hand on his shoulder, and Jim had been looking toward the ground. As they both looked up to the overhang, they realized that Batman had been gone. He had left no mark, as if he had never been there.

"… but I've been wrong before," Jim sighed.

"I don't think you're wrong, Gordon," Rosa replied. "I was there at the drug bust. I was watching him… I don't think you're wrong," she finished again lamely. "But I do think… that I should be making an appearance at 121st and Vine. Give me a chance to do something I've wanted to do since joining the police force." She smiled.

"And what's that?"

"Finally getting the chance to make Toby Fleiss realize just what a fat, smelly, thieving, dirty…"

Jim let Rosa go on for ten seconds worth of derogatory adjectives before interrupting. "Yup, got it. Now, do you want to use the bathroom to change or should I drive you to The Narrows and you can change in the backseat?"

Grinning, Rosa tapped her stomach, and a thumping sound was made. She pointed to the black pants and boots she was wearing, then said, "Already halfway there, bud."

oooooo

Ibrahim Oommen, the owner of the falafel stand that Toby Fleiss raided every Thursday night didn't know what to do about his large pest. It was arguable that he made the best falafel in Gotham, but that was a dubious honor because when word spread about great food that was cheap, a visit from Fleiss was soon to follow. On a good night, Ibrahim would make about 150 dollars profit, some of which he would stow in his pocket on Thursdays. But still, as Fleiss took an average of fifty dollars each time he passed by, for "protection," he said, that was one-third of the profit of an evening gone into Fleiss's considerably large pocket.

This evening was the same. Handing over the five dollars for falafel wrapped in Saran wrap, Fleiss dipped his greedy hands into the till (disguised as a condiment container) and pulled out several bills. Ibrahim watched, frustrated, as he counted the amount Fleiss took. Forty, fifty, fifty-five, fifty-seven… sixty-three dollars gone. More than the usual average.

Now frustrated with himself that he wasn't able to do anything about it, Ibrahim said in a high and loud voice, "Come on, I haff kids to feed!"

"What, they don't like falafel?" Toby smirked through a mouthful of his meal, then began to walk away from the stand. He didn't see the black figure approaching Ibrahim. Ibrahim didn't see it either.

There were two sharp taps on his back, and Ibrahim whipped around, scared to death that Fleiss had come to claim more. Instead, he found himself facing a slim black figure.

"How much did he take from you?"

"Pardon?"

"Simple question. How much. Did he take. From you."

Ibrahim looked at the figure through narrow eyes. This was definitely not the "Bat-man" everyone was raving about – for one thing, it was a girl. Still, scared of not speaking the truth to any figure in black, especially in these times, he stuttered out an answer. "Six-sixty fife doll-ares."

The figure nodded, then dug into a pouch hanging from her waist. "Compliments of La Rosa Rossa," she said quickly. Two bills appeared on the falafel stand, and Ibrahim bent closer to inspect them. A fifty… and a hundred dollar bill! He straightened immediately to speak his thanks, but the woman in black had gone.

She had started to run the minute he turned toward his stand, watching as Toby Fleiss munched his way through the meal. Her eyes automatically flickered upward and a raindrop fell in her eye. It began to rain heavily just an instant after she felt it. "Convenient," La Rosa Rossa murmured to herself.

Keeping one eye on Fleiss and another eye on the skyline, La Rosa finally found him. There, up on the top of one building, kneeling on the fire escape. She could see something moving downward, but she couldn't tell what through the rain. Quickly, she ducked into a side street that would bring her out right where the fire escape began.

oooooo

Toby Fleiss was ridiculously caught by his foot, and was being elevated up and down, up and down. By the time La Rosa Rossa arrived at the back of the topmost fire escape, she was watching him going down, then up, with her eyes only.

"I never knew! I swear to God!" Fleiss shrieked as he was held, upside down, next to Batman's snarling face.

"Swear to me!" Batman shouted back, then let the line drop again, brought it back up and down again, then settled with Fleiss back at his face.

"Okay! Okay! I heard the workers saying it was somewhere in the Narrows – some dump that they rented out before they took it away!"

Batman snarled a smile.

"But cops never go to The Narrows unless they're in full force!"

"Do I look like a cop to you?!" Batman growled, and then let Toby Fleiss freefall, till he was inches above the ground. A few seconds of hanging there, and Batman unhooked the line from his belt and let it fall. Staring down at his victim, Batman heard a voice behind him.

"You know, you could have just asked politely. I'm sure he would have told you."

"You again? How do you always manage to show up when I'm… I'm…"

"… working?" Rosa supplied, an eyebrow lifted. "Just lucky, I guess."

"Anyway, Fleiss didn't tell me a thing. There are thousands of dumps in the Narrows, and I can't spend the time investigating each one!"

"Again, just ask politely."

A silence fell over the two figures in black as Batman ground his teeth.

"Could you…please, tell me where the drugs are," he gritted out, losing patience by the second.

"Of course. There's tons of police records about the building. A couple there – The Graysons. They get into fights, the neighbors call the police, nothing happens. But there have been calls recently about a presumed-to-be empty apartment that the people living there consistently say makes noises… about once a month."

"You're sure." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yup. Now, unless you've got some fast ride around here, how do you propose we get there?"

"We?"

"Information? Lessons in manners?"

"Fine. Well," Batman grinned, "we fly."

"Uh… huh."La Rosa Rossa was about to say something else when she felt arms go around her torso from the back, and they were suddenly jumping off the firescape, but instead of hitting the ground they miraculously missed it… and The Red Rose was honest-to-goodness, actually, literally… flying.