Opening the crate, a pair of hands grasped the automatic weapon and pulled it out. A critical eye examined the rifle, searching for any flaws in it before turning to a pair of lensed eyes that stared back impassively, awaiting the verdict.

A simple nod was given; the gun was acceptable.

As the crate was shut and taken away by the mercenaries, Bane turned to the supplier of the shipment it belonged to. "It appears you are true to your word, Cobblepot."

"Like I told ya, I am a man o' my word and I don't break it," the shorter, squatter man replied, speaking around the cigarette holder in his mouth.

"Indeed. Zombie, Bird, I want all of this shipment divided and taken directly to our bases of operation. Take inventory and disperse as needed," the masked man ordered, not looking at his two subordinates.

"As you wish," Zombie said, leading the way for the two men to set about their task. That left one more matter of business to take of.

"Tell me, Cobblepot, when can I expect another shipment?" the Santa Prisca native inquired, his gaze fixated on the movement of his soldiers. Like a well oiled machine, they were moving crate after crate of weaponry into trucks. Under the direction of either of the masked man's lieutenants, the shipment was being divided between the vehicles, each one with its own destination. No sense putting all of their eggs in one basket.

Due to the actions of the police, they were rethinking storage of the weapons; after two dumps had been found and raided, there was no sense in continuing with such a method. Bane was consolidating his arms and redistributing what remained. This shipment could not have come at a better time to replenish what had been lost.

"Depends. What are ya lookin' for?" the short inquired, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"More," Bane stated. "I want more guns, more incendiaries, more of everything. I do not want for anything. Is that within your abilities to do?"

To his credit, Cobblepot wasn't quick to claim that yes, it was within his power. It was plain to see that where this man lacked in physical prowess, he more than made up for it in intelligence. "It's doable," the smoking man said at last. "I can get in touch with my contacts and put in another order if you want."

"Do it," Bane ordered. "I want a constant supply line. No interruptions, no incompetence. If I find myself even the slightest bit frustrated with your performance, I will snap your neck."

"Be reliable and discrete," Cobblepot remarked. "The customer is always right."

"See to your contacts. My attention is required elsewhere for the time being." With those words said, Bane left the shorter man's side and strolled towards where Zombie stood. With the shipment in hand, it was time to begin planning their next move.

"How soon and until we can have the men mobilized?" he asked of the thin, bald man.

"In the next half hour if you want us to use weapons we've just received," Zombie answered.

"We need to put ourselves on the offensive," Bane stated as he crossed his massive arms over his chest. "It's not enough that Bird's recruits are out there. There needs to be a decisive strike from the main force."

"How would we be able to do that when we have no leads on where the Demon's Fang is basing their operations?" his lieutenant inquired. "Without a location, there is no way we are able to rout them."

This was true, and Zombie's questions were a big reason why Bane kept him around. The man had a similar tactical mind to his, but used it more for the smaller issues. Sometimes it was used before Bane ever had a true need for it, which was helpful in that it allowed for some minor hindrances to be removed without needing the masked man's intervention.

"For the time being, we will need to wait for the Demon's Fang to reveal itself, that is if it has recovered from our last attack," Bane said. "However, they are not the only enemy we have. There is another that we need to deal with, and sooner preferable."

It took Zombie a moment before he came to the correct conclusion. "The police."

"While I have been trying to eliminate Ra's al Ghul, law enforcement has been striking blows to the operation that have required the assistance of Cobblepot to be added to my ranks," Bane summed up. "I have underestimated their tenacity; the commissioner has proven to be a more credible threat than previously believed."

"The trap at the stadium and seizure of our equipment," Zombie said. "Based on his known history, his current actions have been unprecedented. We believed that without the Batman, the commissioner would have rolled over and waited for our finishing blow."

"It's become obvious that it will take more than a single attack to not only cripple, but finish law enforcement. We will need to treat them with more respect that we did in Santa Prisca," Bane agreed. "With that in mind, we will need to use more than overwhelming force with our next encounter. We will need to draw them out and face them on a field of our choosing."

"We need not ignore the commissioner's history then," Zombie pointed out. "If nothing else, when caught off guard, he is reactionary. We could use that."

"We could. We will." Already, the stirrings of a plan was forming in his mind. "We will need transportation, not the kind for transporting armaments, but men. Something expendable."

"This city is full of expandable vehicles. We can appropriate what we need," the bald man suggested. "That leaves where we choose to confront them."

"There are plenty of locations to choose from. What truly matters is what I need to get from this," Bane stated. "It has to be more than a simple blow. It has to be something that shakes the police to their core and cause division within the ranks. Unlike us, American law enforcement is more prone to dissension, and that is a weakness to exploit."

"You already have a target. Make your will known to us and we will follow it," Zombie said. It was a statement that did not need to be said, but it applied to everyone under the masked man's command. None were under any illusion that their lives were safe, yet they would throw themselves into Hell itself if that is what their leader wanted.

"You said the men would be ready in half an hour? Make it so. The sooner we strike, the less time Gordon has to maintain his offensive," he instructed. "In the meantime, I want to learn of Tetch's progress; if there is more he needs, Cobblepot may prove useful in obtaining it."

"I will check in as soon as I am done with the men," Zombie told him and left to accomplish his tasks.

That left Bane to his own devices. Since he had brought it up, he reflected on what he was commissioning the so-called Mad Hatter to do. With the city proven to be more resistant to his conquest than anticipated, a new tactic to dominating it was required and if this Hatter was capable of the stories told about him, this undertaking would be more than its worth in achieving. Secrecy would be its greatest shield and one that need to be maintained at all times. The renewed assault on the GCPD would help with that.

Then there was that other recruit, Zsasz. Compared to Tetch, that man was a rabid dog and the only thing one could use that to one's advantage was to let loose of his leash. The only thing reliable about him was that he was going to kill people.

If would be too convenient if those people happen to belong to any of his enemies. Instead of waiting for that to happen, he would take the initiative himself.

If any of them thought that he was about to crumble under the pressure, it was time that he disabuse them of that notion.

He was nowhere near finished.

It was getting harder and harder to find zombies these days. Like rodents, the walking dead men and women were going into hiding once the sun set and then only a few of the brave, or stupid ones would venture out.

Thanks to all the action that now happened almost every night, even the brave and stupid ones were in short supply, both having become collateral damage in all the cross fire. It made a man like Zsasz reconsider when he should do his hunting.

The thing about doing it in daylight was that there were more eyes on you and it was harder to snatch a zombie off the streets to liberate them. It was even harder than that to try and get away after the fact as zombies tended to notice blood when there was more light around. This isn't to say that he hadn't liberated a few of them here and there, but it was nothing like before his capture.

His head had rung for days after that, and lets not even get to the headache. There was a special place on his skin he had reserved for the woman in purple. He had a feeling that she was still alive somewhere in this maze of a city. It would only be a matter of time until he found her, or she found him, and when that happened, he would be ready for the fight.

While the serial killer preferred his zombies to be under his control, there was nothing quite like it when one fought back. The way his heart would pound in his chest, the sense of accomplishment when his blade sliced through flesh, tendon, and muscle, and the sensation of crimson liquid, be it his or theirs, dripping down his skin…

It would be like that when he found her, not if. When. Until then, he would contend himself with the prey that the zombie known as Bane wanted. That assistant of his, the one with the blond hair, had taken him aside soon after the bald man had laid eyes on the monster of a zombie and had told him about some other zombies that happened to dress up as ninjas.

These were the ones that Bane wanted out of his way and would pay double for. That had piqued the killer's interest and so out into Gotham he went, hunting for this elusive prey.

He had seen them before, but had not made any attempts. Even in his eyes, he knew there was something that was not normal about them, and it made these different zombies stand out from the disgustingly normal ones. It wasn't that they were darker skinned, or made a shitty attempt at dressing like everyone else.

They moved differently. They seemed to be in a world all of their own, one that had them sticking to the fringes, much like Zsasz himself. They were hunters, but ones with leashes. Dangerous, but with blind spots.

The thing about a person like Zsasz, he was good at finding and getting into those blind spots. The only problem was that he needed to find these different zombies first.

Like any kind of predator, patience was key. As he strolled down the sidewalks of the city, he did his best to restrain his urges to start slashing and gashing the other puny zombies around him. It was so tempting, really, to want to liberate them. The way they scurried, shoulders hunched like they were making themselves smaller, eyes wide and darting from side to side for any kind of threat…

Zsasz paused and took a step to aside, slightly removing himself from the dwindling crowds of zombies. Narrowing his eyes, he did a quick look around. He had thought he had seen something, something that stuck out, but now it was gone. He calmed his breathing and studied his surroundings...there!

Right there, two zombies that seemed to not fit were across the street, their strides filled with purpose and their shoulders broad and straight. It was a walk that had no fear in it.

You could not hide that from his eyes.

Taking a moment to gauge where they were going, Zsasz began to follow after them, keeping to his side of the street. You would think move against the crowd would make him stand out, but he was used to blending in. He allowed the weak zombies to flow around him, slipping through the shrinking hoard of them as the night lengthened.

These strong zombies, they were going somewhere. At some point, the liberator crossed the street, closing in on them. You needed to be careful with the strong ones; they could put up a fight if you struck at the wrong second, and really it was all about that one second. No one could have their guard up all day, it was tiring no matter your stamina. He had found that the best time was when the zombies thought they were safe, or in the clear, because that was the instant their guard dropped.

So for now it was a waiting game, even as he continued to trail after them. To further blend in, he walked with purpose, kept his eyes focused on something ahead of the two zombies. If the zombies would make a turn, it was all about making a show of looking at the street signs, expressing uncertainty in the body language, then showing that you knew where you were and continuing on the coincidental path of your prey.

From all appearances, even if these zombies knew he was follow after him, they did show that they were concerned about him. Still, Zsasz had seen this before and knew not to be tricked by it. There had been zombies in the past that had appeared weak, but had only used it as a cover, revealing an ability to fight for life that had made them a challenge.

These two zombies had that fatal error in not expressing weakness; it gave away that they were strong and any element of surprise was thrown away due to that.

Eventually, the targeted zombies entered an alley, which was both anticipated and dreaded. The former was because that was where Zsasz did his best work, in places out of eyesight of the lesser, weaker zombies. The latter he felt because that meant continuing to hide in this environment was no longer an option.

While alleys gave privacy, if he suddenly turned down it, he would give away that he was following. So he moved past it deliberately, using only his peripheral vision to watch his prey. The pair were moving around garbage, heading towards a door towards the end of it. If the liberator's knowledge of Gotham's alleyways and backstreets was correct, there was a left intersecting turn in down that way. If it wasn't the door that was their destination, they could vanish into the backstreets.

Stopping his stroll once he was past the alley, he pressed his back against the brick and mortar of the building beside him. Then he took a peek down the alley, spying out that the two zombies were indeed at the door and hadn't gone for the intersection.

One of the zombies was entering the building while the other was taking up a guard post. They were splitting up, good.

This would be a risk, but if he was to maintain his own element of surprise, he would need to do it. He moved away from the alley and strolled further down the street

Taking a turn at the corner, he continued on his way until he reached another alley. It was a straight shot down it, stepping around dumpsters and random pieces of garbage until he reached the intersecting alley where he had last seen his prey. And there he was, still waiting for the other zombie.

Moving back, Zsasz picked up a handful of gravel from the ground. Picking a few of the larger pieces, he threw a few into the intersecting alley and another back towards a dumpster he had passed by earlier. Throughout that, he was moving backwards and picking through the discarded trash that was strewn about. Tossing a can up into the air, he hid behind one of the dumpsters and cast further down the alley an empty beer bottle.

Then he waited.

Precious seconds ticked by, but he was patient. To save time, he had slipped his handy knife out, his hand clutching the handle as he kept the blade itself hidden. There was no sense in letting a little light reflect off the sharpened metal.

He almost missed it, yet was able to keep his surprise in check as his prey walked by, investigating the ruckus he had caused. The zombie was on full alert, his body tense though his hands were empty. It knew how to fight, so that would mean…

Careful not to make any sounds, Zsasz stood up and stepped behind the zombie. With his knife held at the ready, he reached out but did not go for the head, or the shoulder. Instead, he slipped his hand into the hood that hung off the zombie's jacket and yanked down on it. That had the effect of throwing the zombie off his balance, which it directed all its attention to regaining.

Thus it made itself vulnerable to the knife that slipped beneath its chin and dug into the soft flesh under it. Blood spewed out and drenched anything and everything it could. As the zombie reached for its throat, Zsasz was already stabbing the knife into the chest once, twice, three times, then with his other arm, snaked it around the zombie's forehead and gave a jerk, twisting the slit neck.

It took a few minutes after that for the zombie to drown in its own blood, but eventually that was another mark to add to the serial killer's tally. Rolling up his sleeve as far as he could get it, Zsasz searched for the uncompleted group of five he was in the works of completing, finding it on the back of his tricep. It was a little awkward, but he reached it and carved another mark to bring that total to four. One more until completion and then it would be on to the next one.

But wait, there was a second zombie, was there not? Perhaps he did not need to wait for long for that completion.

However, there were more important matters that needed to be completed. First, this zombie needed to posed, maybe as bait for the other zombie?

He had just the pose in mind.

It had been some time since the Commissioner had done a proper investigation. He had ordered them, set up task forces, and overseen many of them, but to be engaged with one, it had been a long time.

It was those anonymous tips that had been coming into the department about Bane's weapons dumps that had brought that investigative bug back into him. It was also like riding a bike; you never really forgot how to do them.

His skills were rusty, but the more he did it, the more comfortable he became. The first thing that needed to be done was see what the numbers for those calls were. He was both surprised and not that both of these tips came from the same number. And old friend would never have done this.

That meant the caller was either new at this, extremely lucky he, or she, had not been caught yet, or were incompetent. The same number meant the same phone, or sim card, and getting a hold of the phone company to get the data on that number was simple. Completely time consuming, but simple all the same.

Now this was curious: when the calls were made, the caller was nowhere near where the dump sites were. That was smart in that the tipster was not putting themselves in potential danger by being next to the sites. That way Bane's men would be nowhere near to hear the call and possibly interrupt the call.

However, the area where the calls were made were suspicious. After leading the police department for so long, Gordon had learned which areas were which. If the GPS locations were correct, the tipster had called in an area that for economic reasons didn't make sense that a person from that region would just so happen to find those dumps.

But he had always been a thorough investigator, so he had left the department to continue this unofficial investigation and see what he could find. With a brown trench coat covering his body, he made what some would say was a risky move and took to the streets.

That meant he parked his car nearby and went on foot through the neighborhood.

Now, some would make comments on this. Some would say he was being stupid, what with being a very public face of the city and with the streets like they were, he'd be asking for someone to attack him. Others would insist he needed a partner, or someone to be with him as a precaution.

Gordon would say that everyone else was working so hard to save this city that his personal investigation of his was not worth the time or resources that the department was in sore need of. What, in the grand scheme of things, was looking into a much-too-helpful citizen compared to taking down the man shaking up both the city and underworld?

Now, the first thing he did was begin a canvas, asking the locals about the area. Almost always, the people who were in the area tended to know a lot about what was actually going on than an officer who happened to around to look into a crime.

What was really surprising was that in spite of the city going down the toilet, this was a part of it that was starting to see some revitalization. Someone was putting some money into it. In fact, most people tended to point out a specific location where it all began. Some were praising, others seemed to not like it because it was too much change.

It was from the naysayers that he started picking up the rumors of backroom dealings and some seedy business happening in this place. This was the kind of stuff he was trained to look for, not necessarily what he was looking for in this case.

It did bring up a possibility that if the tipster had any involvement in the establishment, then there was a reason why such good tips were being sent in. Someone was trying to be underhanded in getting rid of the competition. That meant the tipster might not be a good Samaritan.

From the sounds of things, his hunch was proving to be well-founded. Nothing left to do but to go check this place out and see what it was about. Were rumors true, or just a bunch of people unhappy with someone new moving in. This neighborhood was primarily made up of businesses, but there was some gentrification happening as well. Nearby was some residential neighborhoods, so there was a worry of one zone creeping in on another.

As he approached the location that he was pointed to, he read the sign out front.

Iceberg Lounge.

The Commissioner hadn't heard about this place, but then again, this kind of thing wasn't up his alley. The phone records indicated that whoever put in the tips was from here. So it could be from a payphone. This place didn't seem like the type that Bane's men would willingly go to when they were on break, so from that aspect it would be safe to send an anonymous tip in.

Grabbing a door handle, Gordon entered the building only to come to a stop when two large men in some fashionable attire stood in his way.

"Who are you? We're not open," one of them stated, his voice gruff.

Deciding to play dumb, Gordon answered, "You aren't? Sorry, but I was suppose to meet a friend. I think this was the place, but I could be mixed up."

One of the men raised an eyebrow. "A friend?" he repeated, skeptical.

"If you say you're not open, I'll just wait outside," Gordon continued. "I wouldn't want to get in the way if you're setting up." He even took a step back through the door so as to show his sincerity. In his head, he was suspicious about the immediate response. It could be that these two happened to be right there when he opened the door, but until proven otherwise, he would not accept this as coincidence yet.

Then something odd happened. One of the two men was opening his mouth to speak when he stopped, a hand going up to his ear. An earpiece? In a place like this? Maybe he needed to do some research on what this Iceberg Lounge was supposed to be.

Then, "Sounds like your friend is here," the large man grunted. Gesturing for Gordon to follow him, the man said, "Stay close to me." The other man continued to eye the glasses-wearing Commissioner, barely showing any emotion.

There were alarms blaring in his head, but Gordon figured from the looks of these two guys, leaving might not be an option. Besides, this was a chance to find out what the hell was going on.

While the picture of several of his closest colleagues were shaking their heads at him in his head, Gordon accepted this invitation and entered further into the establishment.

It was nice to know that even now Nightwing still used that old storage container. Based on the fact that he saw none of the newbies around, Red Robin assumed that his old partner had yet to share with them its location. Sure, they had those lockers over in the Bat-bunker, but this, this was something that was wholly Batclan.

He was glad to see his hunch was right tonight.

As Nightwing—ahem, Dick as he was still in civvie clothing—was opening the lock to the container's door, the teen vigilante gave a cough from above where he had perched himself. That caught the older male's attention and Red Robin was quick to note his reflexes.

With a small smile on his face, he merely said, "Care for some light stretching?"

Minutes later, it was the two of them out in the big city itself, and man, the nostalgia. There had been a part of the younger teen that recalled what it was like to work with the other, moving back into sync so easily despite the disuse. This was nothing like with the others back in Jump, whom he in a way was still working to find some kind of balance with.

But nothing could, or would, replace the old veterans of the Batclan.

In fact, between the two of them, they had found and stopped two muggings, and did that whole get a cat out of a tree bit. Literally, they did, though Red Robin thought he did most of the work right there. Not that he was complaining or anything. It was something to add to the little "warm-up" they were doing, getting their crime-fighting muscles all ready for the night.

So once they took a break, that was when one of them really put out there what they both were thinking. "It's been too long," Nightwing commented. "Really hasn't been the same without you around."

"Ditto," he agreed. Then he added, "But what did any of us expect? What are the odds we would have gone off on our own and made new teams anyway?"

"In your case, we know that you would have," the older vigilante quipped back. With a smirk, he continued, "Who'd have thought you'd find a bunch of kids with superpowers to team up with? Speaking of which, where'd you leave them? Based on what you told everyone, they're like a young Justice League."

"Last I checked, they're living it up in the Keys until further notice," Red Robin answered. "A couple of them wanted to come up here, but I had to shoot that down. I didn't want them having to deal with any of this."

"We could use their help," Nightwing pointed out.

"Yeah, but they don't know Gotham. Jump has its problems, but it's nothing like here. I'm more afraid they'd do more damage than actual good and against someone like Bane? What we found out about him in Peña Duro, I'm surprise that any of us are still alive right now." And after seeing a place that looked like it was ripped right out of ancient history, it made the teen really glad he was born in the good ol' U. S. of A.

"But letting them have a good time in the Keys is better?" Now that it was worded like that…

"We're not an official team. Not yet. Right now, I've got them bunking in one house that I don't own and who knows how long that'll last," the masked teen replied. It was only by Cassie's good graces that she had put up with them all. Like with all things, it wasn't going to last, so someone—namely himself—was going to have to figure out where they were going to go. In reality, it was finding a place for an alien exile, a cyborg, a green shape-shifter, and whatever Raven was, to stay at.

Himself? Well, he had his parents, and Cassie was in her mom's. That was the problem, though: how long until Cassie's mom came back? There was a ticking clock here, but no one knew how much time was on it. This was the kind of stuff that was keeping him up at night.

"But what about you? I see you found yourself a new team," Red Robin remarked.

"Found is not the word I would use," Nightwing said dryly. "Forced is close enough."

"Well, tell me about them. They are replacing me after all," the masked teen said with good humor.

"Well, two are girls and one's a guy." Nightwing shrugged his shoulders and left it at that.

Red Robin couldn't resist; he gave a smack to the older male's shoulder. "You know what I mean. What do you really think about them? I want to know that my old partner's in good hands. I mean, I know with Oracle backing you, that's one thing, but these guys are with you on the streets."

The older vigilante was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the city around him. That was fine, he could wait until his ex-partner could put it all into words. Patience was something he had had a lot of practice with recently.

Finally, "They have their strengths, their weaknesses. We all do. Bluebird, the one that looks like a punk rock girl, she's a wiz with her gadgets, especially when electricity is involved. I think it might be a natural gift if what Huntress told me is true. She has some good aim with that taser rifle of hers, but that can be a weakness if it's knocked out of her hands. She's done well with the hand-to-hand I'm teaching her, can take a hit, but she's a little slow at really picking it up.

"Spoiler's the opposite. At first, she was bad, no question. Then we figured out what her style of fighting is and she's been taking off. Has a problem with confidence, though. I really need to get it through her head that she's better than she thinks she is. She can learn, and she has some brains in her head when she cares to use it."

"That's two," Red Robin said. "What about the guy? The one with the anger issues?"

"Ja—Red Hood literally only joined up some weeks ago. Before Bane beat Batman. He's been a real headache, but I can't put down his eagerness. I don't know if he's in this for the right reasons, though." There was a deep sigh there, a big sign that this new guy, this Red Hood was really taking a lot out of Nightwing. "He's proven to be a better fighter than the girls, but that's all he wants to do: fight. And he's hard headed, like you."

"Oh, thanks a lot," the younger teen snarked back.

"I don't know all they're capable of," Nightwing admitted, "but if they could somehow get around what holds them back, who knows what they'd be able to do?"

"So Spoiler needs more confidence, Red Hood needs to be less of an asshole and more of a team player?" Red Robin summed up. The stuff about Red Hood also included his own observation of the guy. However, that left one person. "What about Bluebird? Other than needing to be a better fighter since that's what we all need to do."

"Too much reliant on her toys, kind of like you," the older vigilante replied. Taking a look at him, "You have to admit, once Batman started giving us some of his toys, you really went all in on them. Spent more time throwing your birdarangs around than throwing a punch or three."

Christ, he hated that name. Why the hell had he thought it had ever been cool?

However, Nightwing wasn't finished. "In some ways, I can still see you like the toys, what with that new cape of yours, but I've noticed something new about you. You're actually doing more fighting with your fists now. Not that that's a bad thing, but mind telling me what prompted that change?"

A grim smile formed on the masked teen's face. "I did tell you that Jump also has its problems, right? Well, I spent way too much time fumbling my way through them, and after a guy with Freddy Kruger knives for fingers kicks your ass a couple times, you have to start doing something different. I really learned my limitations out there and I figured that if this is something I wanted to continue, I was really going to need to bone up on my hand-to-hand. So I found someone to spar with, someone who I knew wasn't going to hold back on me."

Boy, Cassie really never held back on him.

"Seems to be paying off," Nightwing remarked. "You wouldn't happen to be using one of those guys from your super team for this, right?"

Nailed it on the first try. "The worst part is that it's a girl who's been throwing me around until I started to man up a bit. She still is the better fighter, but to be able to wipe some of that smugness off her face is kinda worth it all."

"So someone kinda like Batgirl, the first one," the older vigilante concluded. When Red Robin didn't immediately say anything, the taller male added, "Don't give me that look. Remember back when we first started? I know I was the better fighter, but Oracle was able to hold her own against you, if not outright pin you to the mat."

"Don't remind me," Red Robin grumbled. That was a sobering reminded of days long past there.

Because he wasn't looking at his former partner, he missed the smirk that formed on the other's lips. "Seems like you have a bit of a problem with the ladies; they're always finding ways to beat you up. Maybe you need to start looking at people more in your league."

"Oh ha, ha, no," Red Robin grumbled.

"Let's really take a look at this. You have Oracle, whom I've noticed has been chewing you out a lot; then there's this girl you spar with now who doesn't seem to be willing to spare your face a black eye, I'm betting. Oh well, guess we all can't be ladies men like myself," Nightwing teased.

"Says the guy who hangs out with a couple of girls nearly half his age," Red Robin retorted.

"This coming from the guy who hangs out with girls almost twice his?" Nightwing shot back.

"That's not true! ...anymore." He had to think about that one. If you considered Oracle and the Birds, then yeah, that was right on the money. It wasn't that way in Jump, as far as he knew.

Naturally, he didn't say that last part quietly enough. "I'm betting there's some girls on that new team of yours. Now I'm really curious. Who'd you get to replace me and Oracle?"

"There's no way to replace you guys, and you know it," he retorted. "Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't. These guys, though, some of what they can do is amazing. Really, only one of them is kinda on board; I guess you could say the rest are going through the motions. Like they don't have anything else better to do. But if you could get someone like Cyborg on your side, and Starfire, and Ca—Wonder Girl, those are some guys I'd love to be watching my back more often."

"Let me guess, Cyborg is a cyborg," Nightwing asked.

Red Robin refused to dignify that with any response. "I hate to admit this, but if we're to be a real team, you know, like how we use to be with the Batclan, we need something to bring us together. Last time, it was to save our lives. We don't have that anymore, not that I'm complaining. I wouldn't be surprised after all that crap in Peña Duro that some decide to stick around in the Florida Keys. Not that I blame them, or anything."

"They don't have a higher calling. Well, what about the one who's on board?"

"That's another mess in and of itself. Beast Boy's got the whole "I don't remember my past" thing going on and he's trying to find it while fighting bad guys at the same time. I have no idea what he'll do whenever we can find Galtry and find out what he wants to know. Still, I wouldn't want someone like Bane giving us a reason to stick together. It could be so much worse."

"Well, maybe it's not meant to be. I think you need to figure out what you're going to do, whether these guys and girls are going to be around or not," Nightwing told him. "Accept whatever help you can get, don't refuse it, but don't try to force it either. Remember where we all came from, and that's a want to help a poor guy or lady out because someone was trying to mug them. Simple stuff like that."

"You know, you were always the one who saw the big picture," Red Robin said. "Me and Oracle? We were always trying to be smarter that we really were and that had us missing things."

It was nice that Nightwing didn't flat out agree with that, you know, being the one who could read the atmosphere better and all. There were times that nothing needed to be said, because all the important stuff had already been said.

So when the older vigilante spoke, it was to say, "We better start heading back to the bunker. Gotta get together with everyone and plan our next moves."

Red Robin couldn't help it. "Bet you I get there first."