Reply to Hellking666: You'll see.

Reply to ramsay: Thank you! Here's some more.

Batgirl Beyond #5

Cover: I girl with long curly hair stands in shadow next to a lean, lanky man. They are in front of an open doorway leading into a dimly lit restaurant filled with thin, curling wisps of greenish smoke. Behind the counter on the left is an old man with long, flowing white hair and a beard to match. The walls of the restaurant's interior are covered in indistinct patterns and the dark booths to the right are almost entirely empty. One, however, has a silhouette sitting inside. The silhouette's left eye gleams in the weak light.

+JLL+

After Dad picked me up, we got into his pickup and drove away from the WayneCorp building. All the while, I could barely contain my excitement. Even with time to think with their talking, it was only really setting in now that I was with my dad how drastically my life had changed all of a sudden. My life hadn't disappeared to be replaced by that of a hero, it had just become… more. And hopefully I'd have a new friend after school tomorrow. Once we started driving out of the parking lot, Dad turned to me and asked, "Had fun?"

I flushed in embarrassment. "Is it that easy to tell?" I asked, embarrassed.

Dad chuckled as he drove. "You're practically bouncing in your seat. So, what'd he show you?"

I hesitated a moment. I wasn't sure I should tell him I was a hero, at least not yet, and Dick had waited to show off the gym until after Dad had gone back home. On the other hand, it was pretty cool and I don't think he or Bruce would mind me telling him about the gym itself. I grinned. "It was this awesome gym! It was black, white and grey like everything else there, but was the same kind of stuff they have in the Justice League building! It has everything: all sorts of machines, this gerbil ball things, and a Danger Room! It has these moving platforms and holograms and can be set to do anything, and there's this whole rack of cool gadgets that they want people to test there so I can use them! Well, while I was waiting I asked, and I have to have clearance to take them out, but still! There was a jet pack and a grappling hook and this staff which didn't look all that special, but I remember it being labeled 'Laser Staff,' and that sounds really cool! And I can use it whenever I want! Working there is going to be the best thing ever!"

He laughed, and I realized I hadn't heard him do that since Mom died. Warmth swelled up in my chest as I grinned even wider. "I'm glad we accepted Mister Wayne's offer, then," he said with a smile. "What do you say we go out and celebrate?"

"You're not going to suggest Fugly Bob's are you?" I asked in mock annoyance. I didn't actually mind of we went there, no matter how greasy the food, it would be nice to do something like a family with him again.

He hummed. "I know a good kabob place," he suggested. "It's pretty good, but it's a little hole in the wall near the Union's offices."

I shrugged. "Sure."

"So, what did you do in the Danger Room?" he asked. "As your father, I'm a bit skeptical about letting you use something called that." He gave me a meaningful look. "Even if it does include 'laseer staves.'"

"It's perfectly safe!" I objected. "I mean, sure it has holographic buzz saws, but they can't actually hurt you." Aside from the bruises I got from the holographic thugs, anyway. I was pretty sure the buzz saw had been harmless. It's not like Batman would throw his students into an actually lethal course, right? "It's just an obstacle course," I continued over his objections, "and even if it could do anything else, Bruce Wayne won't let me since I'm just a kid who doesn't know what she's doing." But I would, soon. "I got to run around on moving platforms and climb a net. That's not dangerous, and even if it was, there's safety measures in place." I was fairly certain there were, anyway. They wouldn't sell them if there weren't.

"Well… okay," Dad agreed reluctantly. "Just don't do anything dangerous."

"Don't worry Dad, I won't do anything too dangerous," I replied. After all, by the time I was a hero, I'd be able to handle things that would be 'too dangerous' now.

I wasn't lying to him, not really.

After that we drove through Gotham's main thoroughfares, before turning onto some of the back streets. We were getting near the Tricorner Yards, but stopped a few streets away. That was likely in part because of the need to find parking. After Dad had fed the meter, we walked a block father to a section filled with restaurants of a variety of types: Italian, Mexican, Indonesian, Indian, Cuban, two Chinese and one Japanese. I'd been here several times with my parents over the years, and three times with Emma, but I didn't remember any kabob restaurants here. Then again, it was possible that one of the old restaurants had been replaced.

As we walked along the sidewalk, I looked around trying to find the kabob place, but I didn't see it. "Uh, Dad?" I asked, "I don't see any kabob place here."

"Like I said," he replied, "it's a little hole in the wall. Literally in this case."

He pointed to stairs set against the wall of a building and which descended under another set of stairs which led to a lawyer's office. At the top of the descending stairs was a small beige sign saying "Old World Kabobs and Café" in curving red letters.

I looked at the sign and the stairs, and then turned to Dad.

"It's good, I promise," he replied to my evident skepticism.

"If you say so," I said, not entirely convinced.

He shook his head and led me down the steep, narrow stairs. At the bottom and to the left was a wooden door. It was painted with a dull red that looked weathered with age and was decorated with a variety of symbols and curving Arabic script and some other scripts that I didn't recognize. What I did recognize was that this looked occult to my inexpert eye. Either someone wanted to look magical, or there was someone who actually knew what they were doing here. Magic was pretty rare, even people like Myrrdin, Zatana and Dr. Fate acting as standard bearers for it, or even Green Lantern, who I remembered was a force field Tinker that somehow used magic to power and focus his constructs. Or maybe that was just a PHO rumor I'd read. I supposed it didn't really matter.

The sketchy door to a semi-hidden restaurant was.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I asked as Dad set his hand on the door handle.

He nodded back to me. "Yes, I'm sure. I've eaten plenty of times. I know its décor is a bit… eccentric, but it's perfectly safe." He opened the door and ethereal instrumental music flowed out of the opening.

"Okay…" I agreed reluctantly, and followed behind him as he walked inside.

It was dimly lit with yellowed lightbulbs in the ceiling with curling clouds on incense from an indeterminate source. The walls were faded blue and covered in more of the symbols and foreign script, with occasional painted scenes interspersed within them. I even saw lines of Egyptian hieroglyphs interspersed around the restaurant. One of the painted scenes which caught my eye was a figure in form concealing white robes standing on a sand dune or hill of some sort overlooking what looked like a gleaming city being swallowed by sand, with clouds of it rising around collapsing towers. Another was a cloaked figure with their arms and feet spread being struck by lightning from directly above.

The restaurant itself was small with booths practically walled off from one another. The Entire right side of the restaurant was taken up by the booths, and the front quarter of the left side was similarly occupied. But, the rest of the left side was taken up by the counter and kitchen where the food was prepared with a doorway into the back behind the counter and a hallway on the customers' side which likely led to any restrooms.

As far as I could tell in the gloom, there weren't many people here, just a few booths with one or two customers inside. The only part that was clearly lit was the menu with its variety of options.

I looked back and my dad and whispered, "Seriously? This place practically screams 'supernaturally sketchy' with one of those concert sound systems."

"It's fine Taylor," Dad replied, bemused and unafraid.

I frowned. "Don't sign anything or say your name here, I remember seeing this PSA video by Hellblazer and he said you shouldn't do that in places like this. Or near lawyers."

Dad rolled his eyes. "This place has been here for years, Taylor. I'm sure it's fine," he justified. "Yes, there are rumors that this is some sort of gathering place for the local…underground, but the food's good and I've never had a problem here. I wouldn't take you here if I did."

"I should hope so, Danny!" the man at the register added cheerfully. I hadn't paid him much attention before given the surreal appearance of the restaurant, but now I actually looked at him. He was tall and thin with an appearance that certainly fit with the mystic theme of the place. He had a long flowing white beard that reached his belly and white hair sprouting from his head to match it. He wore a light blue shirt and a dull red apron the same color as the door. "Come, come!" He waved us over.

Dad walked over to him without a concern in the world. I sighed and followed him. "How are you?" he asked as he approached the register.

"I'm wonderful," the man replied. "And you?"

"I'm good," Dad replied before gesturing to me. "This is my daughter Taylor and I decided to show her this dingy old place."

The man offered me a warm smile and a hand to shake. "Well, it's nice to meet you Taylor. What's the special occasion?"

I glanced at Dad, who smiled reassuringly, and shook the man's hand. I replied, "I got an internship at WayneCorp. Nothing big." His grip was firm yet his callused hands were soft.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "You received an internship at one of the premier technology companies in the world, and at such a young age too. I'm sure you've more than earned it," he said earnestly.

I felt myself smiling. He was right after all, no matter what anyone else thought. "Thanks."

"You're more than welcome." Some people might have found his attitude overbearing but he seemed genuinely kind. The man clapped his hands together. "So, what will you two be ordering?"

"I'll have the lamb kabob combo," Dad replied. "What about you, kiddo?"

"Uh…" I looked up at the menu as I was suddenly put on the spot. "What do you recommend?" I asked.

"Well, since this is a celebration, how about a little bit of everything?" the man offered. "That way you'll know what you like if you come here again."

"Sure," I replied with a shrug.

After that, my dad paid for the food and we found a seat in a booth next to another costumer in their own booth. I looked around at the symbols and script on the wall next to our table and froze when I saw a painting of a bat flying out of a dark cave surrounded by green-grey stone and wasted plants. Was it a coincidence, in this obviously magical restaurant? I didn't think so. When Dad looked at me with concern, I forced myself to relax and offer him a smile.

After that we sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes while the owner of the shop – who I had not heard or seen the name of – cooked our food by himself. I looked around the restaurant and for a moment, my eyes caught sight of what looked like the eyes of a large cat lurking in the shadows under a booth on the far side of the restaurant, but I blinked and they were gone with no hint of their presence. Definitely magic. I wasn't sure I liked having that so close to my dad, but it hadn't hurt him so far….

Then a bell tinkled as the front door opened and a man walked in. He had an overcoat which in the gloom looked to be dark brown, making him seem to loom with his hands in his pockets as he stood in the doorway looking around. He had blond hair cropped close and looked out with eyes that gleamed in the dim lighting.

"Over here," a man in the booth next to us said. "You're late."

The blond walked over and sat down on the other side of the booths' walls from me. "Sorry about that," he said in an unapologetic voice with a British accent. "So, what do you think?"

"Not a good enough offer," was the terse reply.

"Really?" the blond asked. "I'd think the long term prospects would be better than any competing deal here, Slade."

"Wrong as usual. I already have a better offer."

"Then why'd you agree to meet?"

"To let you make a counter offer."

There was a pause before the British blond replied, "You can't trust him."

"He's been reliable so far."

Blond sighed. "You're crazy. But fine, I'll see what I can do to make a better offer."

"Good, I'll see you around." I heard the man who had been there when the blond had arrived stood up from his table. Then he said, "Try the beef kabob." Then he turned and walked out of the restaurant.

"Will do," the blond replied. He stood up as well, muttering under his breath. He stalked over to the counter to make his order.

I wasn't sure what they had been talking about, but it only reinforced my earlier opinion that this place was suspicious. I highly doubted that they had been talking about anything legal after all. Something about the name Slade tugged at my mind, but whatever it was refused to become clear. I think it is the name of a villain I should know.

I frowned at the thought. It felt right, and there weren't many villains that I knew the civilian identity of. Most of them were former enemies of Batman, Nightwing or the other major heroes of Gotham as I'd expanded my preexisting knowledge as a Gothamite with online research that I had conducted yesterday. I'd quickly lost hours to combing online encyclopedias like PHO, but I knew enough to at least make a few guesses. The biggest ones were Marquis, the Joker, Bane and Siberian, but they were all also obviously not the right ones. None of them were active anymore, and none of them would be a man named Slade.

Well, maybe the Joker could be, but that didn't feel right for a host of reasons. This restaurant seemed suspicious, but the man running it didn't seem like the type to just let obviously evil people like that it, even if the Joker could have shown up. He was dead after all, gang of imitators notwithstanding.

There were others that it could be, but I didn't think any of them were right. 'Slade' had obviously been a mercenary of some sort, but I didn't think that any of Batman's rogues gallery had been mercenaries. There were villainous mercenaries like Faultline's Crew and the infamous Slaughterhouse Nine, but I didn't know them. Then again, I wasn't likely to know the name of this mercenary either. It wasn't like his name was a matter of public record like… Deathstroke.

I looked up at Dad and told him, "I need to use the restroom."

"Okay," he replied as I got up, "it's just down the hallway, you can't miss it."

"Thanks," I replied as I walked away, doing my best to remain calm and resisting the urge to kick myself for forgetting Deathstroke's name. If I was right, which was admittedly a bit of a stretch, I'd just seen an attempted deal between some British guy and Deathstroke, one of the longest careered solo villains on record and an infamously amoral mercenary. What was going on?

I needed to call Bruce.

I quickly found and entered the surprisingly clean bathroom and entered my phone's password. Once that was done, I spent several confused minutes trying to find the contacts list as I didn't know his number myself. Just as I was starting to get fed up, I managed to find it and dial his number. After four rings he picked up.

"What is it?" he asked bluntly.

I quickly explained the situation to him. He let me finish my account and then asked pointed questions to try and get me to reveal any detail I might have missed, but there wasn't much.

Finally, he said, "Multiple sources have said that Deathstroke is currently on retainer to someone. Possibly the Society, but there are other candidates with the necessary resources. Cadmus, Hive or the Crime Syndicate if they're trying to establish a foothold on this Earth again. I find it unlikely that he'd come all of the way to Gotham in order to negotiate a job when he thinks that he already has a better deal than they can offer."

"But it makes sense if he was already here," I finished. "And what was that about long term prospects?"

"It's likely a reference to fallout from some future event," Bruce conjectured.

"This other man may have thought that Slade didn't like the expected outcome of whatever Slade's currently working on," I suggested.

"Deathstroke wouldn't want to fight an entire League chapter," Bruce said. "Whatever Slade is working on, it's something big."

"If this is Deathstroke," I finished.

"Yes," Bruce agreed. "I'll alert Armsmaster that he may be in the city. Find out what you can about the blond man without attracting his notice. A picture of him would allow us to identify him."

"Will do," I confirmed.

"Be careful," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

Bruce had already hung up the phone.

Since I was in a bathroom, I washed my hands for the sake of a convincing verisimilitude. That and it was just sanitary, I was in the public bathroom of a shady kabob restaurant after all. Well, I hadn't expected to get started on being a super hero so soon.

As I did so, I considered what I was going to do and how. The biggest challenge would be getting a picture of the British man without attracting his attention. Given the fact that he was seated directly behind me, I didn't think that listening in on any conversations that he might have would be that difficult. However, I didn't think it was likely that he would have another coincidentally lucky conversation.

Getting a good look at him likely wouldn't be too difficult as I walked back to my seat. On the other hand, taking out my phone and taking a picture would be one for several reasons.

First, I didn't know how to take picture with it at all. To solve this, I dried off my hands and started fiddling with my phone. I didn't want to waste a good opportunity out there trying to figure out how to do that.

Second, how could I be certain that he wouldn't notice me taking the picture? If it made a sound or flashed it could attract his attention. I didn't want to find out what someone who was willing to –potentially– work with a super villain would do if they caught someone snooping on them. Maybe I could silence the phone? But the flash would still be a problem. The restaurant was dim after all, and it would need a flash to properly pick out his face, right?

Third, how would I keep Dad from commenting on the new phone? That might draw the British guy's attention. I could keep it under the table, but it would be hard to aim in that case.

Better than nothing.

I fiddled with my smart phone for another minute before deciding that I had wasted enough time. Dad might think it was fine but in his place I might get worried if Dad didn't come back from the restroom here.

As such, I calmly walked back to the restaurant proper. It hadn't changed much since I had left for the restroom. Dad had apparently picked up our food however. A plastic tray sat on our table and Dad was waiting with a platter in front of him and one in front of my seat.

I tried to walk several feet away from the line of booths along the wall so that I would have a better angle on the British man. However, he had returned to his seat facing the door and away from me. It meant that unless I walked up to him, I wasn't likely to actually see anything useful.

It looked like listening to his unlikely-to-happen conversations and trying to sneak a picture with my phone were going to have to be my plan. I inwardly sighed and sat down and looked at my food. I didn't want to risk getting the attention of someone who was probably a criminal and at the very least had possibly just been trying to recruit a notorious super villain. Unless I got something useful, he would probably just walk away and there was nothing I could do about it.

Well, I could try to take something from him. But, even if the police of Justice League arrived in as quickly as possible, the British man would know about me and my dad. If he thought I was working with the heroes, he might hurt us. There was nothing I could do except wait and hope he didn't notice me.

The tension of how important and dangerous this situation was made me nervous to the point of losing my appetite. I felt no desire to eat my food, even though I have exerted myself hard in the Danger Room.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything I could do about the British man and not eating would draw Dad's attention. I looked down at the food. It certainly looked good, a large variety of meats covered in spices over rice and with vegetables on the side. I sniffed and breathed in the heady aroma of the food. It certainly smelled delicious. As much as I didn't like it, there was nothing else for me to do.

I picked up my fork and speared a piece of chicken.

"Oh, don't worry, the chicken's good," Dad said. He was probably thinking that I was still worried about the atmosphere.

I smiled and nodded before taking a bite. I didn't want to eat fast, as that meant that we would probably leave before the blond. My eyes widened in surprise. This was good, very good.

Dad chuckled. "What, surprised? There's a reason I come here often."

The old man behind the counter laughed too. "You could say my cooking is simply magical."

"Really?" I found myself asking at the same time that the blond did.

The old man huffed. "I think I've earned the right." He sent a piercing looked our way, and I realized he was looking at the blond. "More than a scoundrel like you at any rate."

"Hey!" the British blond objected. "I'm not just some scoundrel! I'm a bloody important man here on important business." So, they knew each other? Good to know. Even if I didn't learn anything else, I'm sure Bruce could put that information to good use. He probably already knew the obviously magical owner of the restaurant. Connecting him to a blond British man would be the next step in that investigation.

The old man scoffed but didn't otherwise dignify that with an answer. He turned back to the grill where the British man's order was cooking.

The blond grunted and muttered under his breath, "And this whole place is the tackiest I've been in in a while. I've seen more tasteful stage magicians."

"It's my restaurant and I'm free to decorate it however I want," the old man replied. "And besides, the people around here certainly appreciate it."

"Probably because it's one of the few places around here that people know they aren't going to get shaken down by fucking Nazis while they're inside," the blond shot back. "I could do a better job."

"You're free to come over and cook your own meal if you feel so strongly," the store owner replied with amusement clear in his voice.

"Bah, I'm a lazy old bugger," the blond replied. I heard him rifle around in his pockets and flick something metal open. For a moment I thought he had taken out a switch blade and a chill ran down my spine.

"No smoking," the old owner replied without turning around as he continued to work the grill.

"Bastard," the blond retorted, but I heard the metallic click again and him putting things back in his pockets.

"It's bad for your health, and if you don't care about that then you should care about the fact that you're smoking near other people, including a young girl," the owner chided.

"And I care because…?"

I saw the old man turn around and level an unimpressed look at the blond. "We both know you do, somewhere deep, deep down. Now please stop gripping and let my other customers eat in peace." He smiled and winked at me and I quickly turned back to my own food with a blush.

I ignored Dad's amusement and took another bite. The food was good, and there until the blond man said something, there was no need to do anything else. Even if it was accidently, I was confident that I now had enough information to give to Bruce that he could discover the blond's identity.

I wanted to do something more about this guy, but it didn't seem worth it. I couldn't do anything more than attract his annoyance, and the old man who ran this restaurant and was obviously magical knew and seemed to… not dislike the blond at least. So, that seemed to discredit the theory that Slade was in fact Deathstroke. Maybe I was wrong, but the old man didn't seem like the type to be on friendly terms with known criminals and villains however suspicious his restaurant was. He could just have a friendly façade though.

I shook my head clear. I couldn't get anything more for now and I was sure that Batman or the Justice League as a whole would know more about this restaurant than I did. I mean, they had to been keeping tabs of a place this weird, right?

As long as nothing else happened, I'd be fine and we would be able to track down the British man and Slade. And if they were up to something villainous, we'd stop them.

I nodded to myself.

"Good, right?" Dad asked.

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

We finished our meal, exchanging small talk about my new internship and Dad's work as the union's Head of Hiring.

Eventually, the British man got up and I managed to get a clearer look at him as he went to retrieve his food. He wore an overcoat that looked more tan than brown in the better lighting near the counter. His short hair was unruly, and I noticed that his blond hair seemed to be varied with some being much lighter than the rest. As soon as I saw him walking to the counter, I had taken out my phone. However, entering the password and switching to the camera took too long. By the time I was finished, he was already walking back. He was giving me a speculative look as he approached.

Not wanting any more of his attention, I quickly switched away from the camera and to contacts. There were only the ones that Bruce had previously put in, but I could appear busy with something else while he walked by.

I heard him snort before he sat back down and I quickly put my phone away. I looked up to see Dad watching me with confusion magnified on his face by his thick glasses. I shrugged and returned to eating before he could speak up. He didn't give up though. "Taylor?"

I suppressed a wince. "Yes, Dad?"

"Something wrong?" he asked with concern.

"No, I'm fine," I replied before taking a bite to punctuate my sentence.

He frowned for a moment and sighed. "Okay." Lately, he hadn't been very observant of things. Even though I hadn't told him about Emma betraying me and starting a bullying campaign just a month ago, he hadn't noticed or wanted to notice that anything was wrong until I had told him that Emma and I weren't friends anymore. I don't think he would press me hard if I just kept this to myself. It would probably be safer for him as well. Secret identities existed for a reason after all. They helped keep heroes' families safe. New Wave didn't have secret identities, but I didn't want to publicly reveal that I was training to be Batgirl.

Not telling him about what I was doing was a part of maintaining my secret identity. Not to mention he fact that the British man was already suspicious and telling my dad what I was doing would only make that worse.

We quietly finished our meal and left. As I walked out of the kabob restaurant, I could feel the British blond's eyes on my back. It wasn't a comfortable feeling.

Upon returning home, I immediately went to my room and texted everything that had happened and that I had learned to Bruce.

Ten tense seconds later, Bruce replied, "Understood, keep me informed if you see any more suspicious activity."

That was…underwhelming. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but that certainly wasn't it. Well, I supposed that he could tell me more tomorrow.

Nothing else interesting happed the rest of the evening and several hours later I was fast asleep.

Only to be woken up in the middle of the night by my phone buzzing. Half asleep, I scrambled and pulled it out of the drawer where I had put it. As soon as I had entered my password, it displayed a message from the Justice League Message System.

"Class-A Threat Ongoing in Gotham City: All Off-Duty Members in District Report for Active Duty."

Night and Shadow #1

Cover: An ornate, Gothic spire rises from a roof decorated with arches a gargoyles all in a Gothic style. Behind it spreads a skyline that is a mixture of Art Deco and Gothic high rises of office buildings. Next to the spire stand two figures. One is of medium height and obscured by a black cape. This person faces the other figure, who has a clearly masculine body, but is a looming black silhouette save for the blue bird of prey on his chest and his silver eyes.

+JLL+

Richard Grayson, a.k.a. Nightwing, exhaled foggy breath as he looked across the brightly lit cityscape of Gotham. It was always busy, but the night had always been when Gotham came alive. Even with so many new skyscrapers and remodeled buildings, it was still the same as it had been all those years ago underneath the glimmering surface. Leaning against the cathedral's tallest spire, Nightwing chuckled. So much had changed and yet so much had stayed the same.

One could always tell if they were looking at Gotham or another city. No other city had the same mix of Art Deco and Gothic architecture. That fact hadn't changed with new building being build and old ones getting destroyed in fights with villains or just torn down. Nightwing was certain that fact had to do with Bruce and other prominent Gothamites being dedicated to preserving the city's distinctive look. And still after all these years they had largely been successful. Even when the aesthetic crime against humanity that was the Forsberg Gallery, which looked like a half-finished Jenga game using a set of giant neon red blocks. Hideous? Yes. Visually distinctive? Also yes.

Nightwing, and likely others, had been somewhat disappointed when he'd heard that some anarchist villain had failed to blow it up. On the other hand, at the very least he could say that no building in Bludhaven or Boston looked quite like that. Though he suspected that in the case of Boston, Accord would kill anyone who tried to make something that looked anything like the Forsberg Gallery inside of 'his' city.

Nightwing swept his gave across the city, scanning for movement, signs that Shadow Stalker, or someone else, was coming for him.

He had been in Cathedral Square for a while now. He had learned from Batman that one should always be prepared, and that included making sure that there weren't any traps at the location of a meeting.

Nightwing could see people down in the street looking at the roofs of the Cathedral and the surrounding buildings. No doubt they knew about the meeting and were taking the opportunity to look for the two heroes that would meet there.

A part of him considered waving, but that was more Red Robin's thing.

No, better to see how good Shadow Stalker was at hide and seek.

As nice as he'd been to Taylor – soon to be Batgirl – she wasn't experienced enough to take the lead. If anything, she would likely act more as Shadow Stalker's sidekick if the two ended up partnering. This added to the need for Shadow Stalker to be evaluated. An experienced vigilante around the new Batgirl's age to help show the rookie the ropes could be invaluable… if everything turned out well.

Nightwing always found those 'ifs' to be the biggest problem.

They had a tendency to not work out the way one wanted. It was the reason that Nightwing had acquired what Changeling liked to call "Batman's obsessive paranoia." As much as being compared to Batman still annoyed him deep down even after all of these years, Nightwing appreciated the fact that without the training and preparedness that Batman had drilled into him, he'd be dead by now. And so would too many of his friends.

His HUD pinged and Nightwing shifted his head to the left slightly. A semi-corporeal shadow stood on top of an office building's roof two blocks away. It was hard to see, and without the Tinker tech in his mask, he probably would have missed it standing there against the cloudy night sky. Most likely Shadow Stalker.

Now to see what she'd do.

The barely visible shadowy figure stood on the roof for a minute, likely looking around the square. Eventually, she decided to search the square herself and jumped to the office building across the street.

While she was focused on jumping safely, Nightwing shifted slightly and activated one of his suit's functions. His silhouette disappeared from the shadow it had been lurking inside.

Shadow Stalker looked up from where she landed and looked around the rooftops again. Not seeing what she was looking for, she began to make her way towards the highlight of Cathedral Square, its cathedral. It took her seven minutes to make the journey across the rooftops and around the square, and several people below who had already been looking up noticed her.

Eventually she made her way to top of the cathedral and looked around. Seeing nothing, she jumped and shifted to her incorporeal state so that her momentum could carry her reduced weight all of the way to the spire that Nightwing was leaning against.

She was wearing a black hooded cloak and a black hockey mask, as well as black long-sleeved shirt, gloves, pants and boots. Nightwing could sense a theme. A dark, brooding, edgy theme.

Shadow Stalker searched around the spire and then scanned the rooftops once more. "I heard that Batman likes to appear out of nowhere," she said to the empty air. "Are you doing the same thing?"

"Yes," Nightwing said from right behind her. She flinched but recovered quickly, he noted with approval. "It's something of a bad habit, or so criminals and police commissioners say." His black armor was sleek and covered his entire body. On his chest was a large image of a stylized bird of prey with its wings spread wide. The image was in a roughly triangular shape. It and the silver lenses over his eyes were the only visible color on his armor.

She shrugged, dismissing her earlier surprise. "Well, it's good to get in the habit to practice…what's the word? To surprise someone?" She tensed in annoyance.

"Ambushing?" Nightwing suggested.

"Yeah, ambush." Shadow Stalker shifted her position, still embarrassed with her memory lapse. "So, what'd you want? Um. I mean, why'd you call me?"

"Well, you remind me a lot of Huntress when she was young," Nightwing told her. "You've got the crossbow and everything."

"Ah, yeah," Shadow Stalker said, shifting slightly. Armsmaster's social analytics that were installed in Nightwing's armor read her as embarrassed and pleased.

"Mind telling me why you never tried to join the League?" Nightwing asked.

"Well, I heard about the Wards," Shadow Stalker explained. "I'd have to join them and be careful because otherwise the PRT and the soccer moms would throw a fit. I want to go out and actually do something, not play nice. I want to be like you, like Huntress, Spoiler and all the Robins."

Nightwing chuckled. "Thanks, kid." He noted that she bristled at the 'kid' remark. "Normally, I'd tell you that most of our successes were due to working with Batman and others as a team, but you've handled yourself for how long? About a year, right?"

Shadow Stalker straightened back in surprise. "How – yeah, but mostly I kept quiet in that time. Becoming… uh… accustomed to my powers."

Did she have problems remembering words? Interesting. Nightwing nodded. "You've done well so far, attacking gangsters from ambush." She seemed pleased at the remark, but slightly nervous. It was probably about her uncertainty as to the nature of the meeting. "However, working with a team can be safe and more effective. You haven't done well against the city's villains." Again, she was annoyed. She didn't like her failures being acknowledged? Understandable but could be a problem in a team.

"I told you I didn't want to join the Wards," she replied.

Oh, right. Kind of obvious. "I know. I wasn't suggesting that. You can work with members of the League without joining. In fact, you could walk inside Gotham's JLHQ and it'd be fine." She was relieved and slightly surprised. "They wouldn't mind. Especially after your most public act, when you saved two people from the ABB just under two months ago." Surprise again and pride that quickly shifted to concern.

"Well, I'm a hero and they were thugs, of course I helped take them down," she replied. Concern and annoyance.

Nigthwing tilted his head to the side. "Huntress always did prefer to focus on taking down bad guys." Over protecting people, and most other things, that is. It got her in trouble more than a few times.

"I-I guess we really are a lot alike, then," Shadow Stalker replied, pleased.

That remains to be seen. "Batman and I have been looking into you," Nightwing said. Pride mixed with hope and eagerness. "We've noticed the injuries you'd done with your crossbow bolts, and while that can be accidentally lethal, it isn't anything that can't be dealt with. Huntress, Green Arrow, Red Arrow and all the others are enough evidence of this."

He could tell without Armsmaster's software that she was troubled. It wasn't that he had even needed the software, especially since he verified it with his own eyes. But, it was good to have a second opinion even if it was software. "I'm sensing a 'but,'" Shadow Stalker said.

"We cast a wide net in our search," Nightwing explained, "and came across something interesting. The girl you saved, Emma Barnes," there, a twitch, a hint of recognition of the name, "seems to have abandoned some of her previous behaviors and associations in the weeks following you saving her life. She seems to have reprioritized." Definitely worried now, but covered by bravado. He tilted his head in the other direction. "Our profiling wouldn't normally suggest such a radical chance in her behavior." He paused, letting the tension build for a second. "She your sidekick?"

Relief, followed by annoyance. "Um, yeah. She'd fought back in the alley, proven she was strong, a survivor. Later, I was passing by the alley where she was attacked one night and saw her back there. That's when I realized that she'd endured a… what's the word? A challenge that makes you stronger?"

"A crucible?" Nightwing suggested. Moment of truth…

"Yeah, she'd endured a crucible and emerged stronger," Shadow Stalker continued. "That's when I knew that she could be one of us. Even though she doesn't have powers, I decided to take her under my wing, uh, mentor her."

Nightwing nodded in outward agreement. "Okay. Well, I'd recommend you two show up to the local HQ. They'll let you use the training rooms without joining the Wards, and we can even equip you with some basic gear for your own protection. If you want, I'll see if we can't get you some revolver crossbows like Huntress uses."

She tried to hide it, but Nightwing was sure that just about anybody who looked at her could tell she was giddy at the thought. "Thank-" she started to say excitedly before pausing and deepening her voice in an attempt to sound less like an excited kid, "Thank you. I'll take you up on that offer."

"Good," Nightwing replied. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have a flight to catch back to Blüdhaven and then on the Quebec."

"No, it's cool," Shadow Stalker replied. "You must be pretty busy."

Nightwing chuckled. "It's one of the woes of being in charge. Go-"

He was interrupted by his communicator beeping. "Deathstroke is confirmed active inside Gotham," Bruce said without preamble, "but he's not important at the moment. You need to go to Archer's Bridge immediately. Valefor was spotted with Scarecrow and the Jokerz." There was a pause and Nightwing was about to speak when Bruce added, "So was an empty suit wearing a mask. Confirm his presence but don't engage."

Shit, he's active again. "I'm not some rookie, Bats," Nightwing shot back as he pressed several keys on his belt and walked quickly towards the edge of the roof. "I'm on it. You'll let the local team know?"

The connection was already cut.

"Typical," Nightwing remarked in annoyance.

"What's going on?" Shadow Stalker demanded. She had been following him to the edge of the Cathedral's sloped roof.

Nightwing had almost forgotten about her. "Apparently the Jokerz decided to celebrate since I was in town tonight and invited some friends."

She nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Archer's Bridge, and this is out of your league," Nightwing replied.

Shadow Stalker glared at him. "You haven't been here in years, unlike me," she shot back. "I know things, like that the fact that Archer's Bridge isn't Jokerz territory. The Merchants are there."

Nightwing sighed. "And you'd just follow anyway. Alright, let's go for a ride."

The dull roar of jet engines cut through the night as a hover jet dropped out of the night sky to settle in front of the pair.

Seeing Shadow Stalker's amazement, Nightwing said, "Working with Batman and the League can be aggravating at times, but he gives the coolest toys. Now come on!" He leapt into the opened cockpit's front seat. A moment later, Shadow Stalker jumped in the back and the jet roared off for Archer's Bridge.

+JLL+

A man with short hair and an overcoat walked through the red-cast streets of a bustling night-time city. The street was busy even late at night, as they always were in places such as these.

From behind the man, the hoarse voice of a barely heard scream called out, "It's too late. The Rising Dark's coming, Constantine. You can't stop it. You need to choose your poison, Fire or Shadow!"

The man, Constantine, turned to glare at the figure wearing an elegant suit and standing half in shadow. "I choose neither," the man, Constantine, replied.

"Then you'll die, and if you persist in this stupidity, so will everyone you still hold dear." The figure stepped forwards, revealing not a face, but a mask. No eyes or head were visible behind it, just empty air.

Constantine rolled his shoulders and clenched and unclenched his hands. "We'll see about that, Joey."