Hello again everyone!

So far, keeping on top of my regular updates and hoping to stay on this trajectory.

A huge thank you to all you faithful readers who have stuck with this story for so long! You're the best :)

I'll answer your reviews from last chapter, and let you get on with the story:

-RKF22: it's good to be back! Looking forward to kick this story into high gear :)

-Angelo47: well Ares was certainly the villain in this story's prequel, but this current story involves a completely different threat. I won't say it outright, but the end of chapter 5 has a pretty big clue for those who know ;)

-LOTSlover: thanks for the encouragement and congrats on your amazingly consistent output! I need to take inspiration from your workflow :)

And now, without further ado, on with Chapter 6!

Jim tried to focus on the pleasant evening he had spent with Montoya and Vicki Vale as he made his way into City Hall. The meeting that stood before him was going to be far less pleasant and he wanted to make sure he arrived with a focused and positive mindset.

Becky, the mayor's secretary, offered him a seat while she finished her current appointment. Jim was now calm and concentrated, dressed in his least wrinkled business suit, ready to fight for his job tooth and nail.

Out of the corner of his eye, the commissioner could see Becky shooting furtive glances his way, clearly inquisitive about something.

"What's on your mind?" Jim asked with a reassuring smile.

"Was I that obvious?" she asked sheepishly.

"People tend to look down or away when they see me," he said jokingly. "I learned to pick up when someone stares."

"I was wondering… You've interacted with Mr. Wayne a couple of times, right?"

"Bruce Wayne? Yeah. We're acquainted. He invites me to his parties sometimes."

"I see… Do you happen to know… what he likes? What are his interests? Hobbies?"

"Oh…" Jim had an idea where this was going. His surprise didn't last long though. "That's a very good question, Becky. But… aren't you married?"

"Commissioner Gordon, how rude!" Becky hid her mortified gaze behind her hands. "It's nothing of the sort. I just happen to believe that he made a very brave and bold declaration to help Gotham. And I think it's only right that we show our appreciation when people try to do good in this crazy world."

Before Jim could answer, Becky's landline buzzed. She picked up, and exchanged a few words with whoever was on the line before hanging up.

"The mayor will see you now," she told the commissioner. "And not a word of this to anyone."

"You got it, boss," Jim said with an emphatic bow.

The commissioner took a calming breath before pushing open the door to the mayor's office. Olivia Hernandez sat at her desk, in deep conversation with someone sitting across her, facing away from Jim. Though it didn't take long for him to recognize the infamously famous playboy and philanthropist, Bruce Wayne.

"Good to see you, Jim," Olivia stood up to shake hands. "I believe you've already met mister Wayne?"

"We've had the pleasure, yes," Bruce said as he shook Jim's hand. "And please, Olivia, it's Bruce. Mister Wayne was my father."

"I wasn't aware you'd be joining our… meeting," Jim said evenly.

"I didn't either. But Bruce is now the largest contributor to the GCPD's annual budget, and certain decisions must be made with his knowledge, though not his approval."

"I wouldn't want to pose any conflicts of interest," Bruce said with a charming smile. "All your new equipment is to be delivered today. I hope your officers will be pleased."

"That's… kind of you, Bruce. I'm also grateful for what you did for Officer Montoya. She asked me to convey her heartfelt thanks and appreciation."

"Yes, speaking of Officer Montoya," Olivia interrupted with a displeased grimace. "I think it's best we address the elephant in the room before it gets any bigger. What the hell happened out there, Jim?"

"Officer Montoya's injuries were a result of my own negligence," Jim said solemnly. "I allowed Vicki Vale past the security line. Office Montoya was only trying to protect her when she got injured."

"Isn't it a bit excessive to place the blame solely on yourself, Jim?" Bruce butted in, playing up his cluelessness. "I mean, what about these vigilantes who were engaging that brute? If they'd dealt with him sooner or, better yet, not been there at all, this whole incident might have been avoided."

"Well that's the problem with vigilantes, Bruce, they're unaccountable," Olivia said, rounding her desk to gaze out onto the streets of Gotham. "Believe me, if I could hold those two whack-jobs responsible instead of you, I would. Unfortunately, they have yet to come forward, if you can believe it. And I'm not holding my breath that they ever will."

A long silence hung over the office, which Bruce and Jim handled calmly, each for different reasons. After several seconds, Olivia finally turned around to face the two men, sporting a displeased expression.

"I'm sorry, Jim, but I'm going to ask the D.A. to open up an investigation into your actions," she spoke firmly. "I deeply respect everything you've done for this city. Believe me, this was not an easy decision to make. But we need accountability. The days of relying on vigilantes and playing it loose with the rules are over."

Jim nodded slowly. He had suspected this type of outcome.

"I understand, Mayor Hernandez," he replied stoically. "And I plan to fully cooperate with this investigation."

"Alright, Jim. Thanks for coming in," Olivia and Jim exchanged a firm handshake. "You can go."

Jim quietly left the mayor's office at a deliberate pace. Not a single detail in his attitude would have tipped anyone off about the news he'd just received.

Bruce's gaze followed Jim as he left the room, and he could sense that the mayor's eyes were squared firmly on him. As he casually made eye contact with her, he had to be extra careful not to give off any signs of critical thinking or deeper intelligence.

"You aren't the man I expected."

Bruce gave a friendly smirk to Olivia's statement, despite the fact it did not sound like a compliment.

"A lot of women tell me that," Bruce said casually. "That and they expect me to be shorter."

"I was referring to the way you didn't bat an eye when I told Jim I was going to have him investigated. All the tabloids and newspapers call you impulsive and immature."

"Are you psychoanalyzing me, Olivia?"

"Of course not, Bruce. Merely confirming a theory; that the whole 'billionaire playboy' routine is just some strange façade you put up to hide your real self."

"I still don't get where you're going with this," Bruce said with an exaggerated look of bewilderment. "I know that you're never supposed to take things at face value in politics, but don't you feel you're taking it a bit too far? I really don't have a need for multiple personalities."

Olivia gave him a slow smile, barely masking her intrigue. She circled around her desk to get closer to Bruce, all while towering over him. He made sure to sub-communicate how intimidated he felt by her.

"We're all actors, Bruce. We have a different face for every person we meet," Olivia's voice had picked up a level of gravitas that felt very out of character. "And it's generally those who deny it, who rely on those faces the most."

Bruce had an inkling of the game Olivia was trying to play. He didn't believe it was anything malicious, or relevant to his real identity. He decided to take the bait; though only tentatively.

He slowly rose out of his chair to stand up in front of Olivia. Despite her heels, he was still taller by a few inches. His easygoing smile and vapid eyes were replaced by a stern visage, centered around an unflinching gaze that made normal people look away by reflex.

Olivia held that gaze; she was a politician after all.

"That's an interesting theory, Mayor Hernandez," Bruce's voice was as close to freeze-breath as a human could get. "Would you like to know who I see? An idealistic politician who got into the game at a young age and whose optimistic worldview was beaten down by the cynical, nepotistic, egotistic, and unfair Gotham City. Her skin thickens, her morals bend, and she tells herself she's still the same person, all while kissing up to wealthy donors and multiplying her TV appearances. High off her political successes, she campaigns for the most important office in Gotham and wins a hard-fought race. She remembers all the idealistic campaign promises she made, trying to invoke a past version of herself she's long abandoned. And now, you look at me and think you're staring into a mirror. But I'm not your reflection, Mayor Hernandez, I'm your mirror opposite. You believe the master's tools can dismantle the master's house… I left the tools in the shed and sold the house long ago."

As he spoke that last sentence, billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne returned with a charming smile and joking tone. He turned on his heels and headed for the exit.

"Keep fighting the good fight, Olivia," he said without turning around. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an event get to."

Bruce flung open the doors and let them swing back closed behind him.

Olivia didn't move from her spot. She was torn between profound admiration and gnawing jealousy, with a light dash of "je ne sais quoi" she decided not to dwell on.

"Alright, Bruce Wayne… you've got my attention."

Diana didn't like this. Her room was cold, it felt sterile, the bed was too small and she had no one to share it with. She'd never experienced what it was like to have a room onboard the Watch Tower, and she felt immense respect for people who stayed up here full-time.

These rooms took a lot of work to make them feel homely and welcoming. Diana recognized Batman's design choices: minimalist, practical, and efficient. The uniform grey color, smooth surfaces, and lack of decorations were a far cry from the beauty and elegance of Wayne Manor.

There was a knock at the door, but Diana made no effort to move.

"It's open," she called out.

The door slid open, Shayera and Supergirl let themselves in. They exchanged a silent look when Diana didn't even budge from under the bedsheets to greet them.

"We heard you were back on the Watch Tower but we missed you at dinner," Supergirl said nicely. She moved to Diana's bedside table, carrying a food platter from the cafeteria.

"We brought you some food," Shayera spoke, also moving closer to Diana's bed. "Probably isn't as glamorous as Alfred's cooking but…"

Shayera's voice trailed off as a low weeping sound emerged from beneath the covers. Supergirl gave Shayera a furious glare, gesturing for her to be quiet; to which she responded with a disbelieving face as she waved Supergirl off.

"What's wrong, Di?" Supergirl asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and resting a comforting hand on Diana's shoulder. "Did something happen with Bruce?"

"He can be pretty pigheaded sometimes," Shayera spoke up, only to immediately be reprimanded by an intense glare from Supergirl.

"He was," Diana replied, causing both Leaguers to shoot her hidden form a surprised look. "But so was I."

"Couples dispute?" Shayera asked rhetorically. "Know about those. They happen sometimes."

"It felt odd…" Diana said slowly, finally pulling down the sheets to let her head peak out. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with tears. "We've had disagreements, but this felt like a fight."

"You didn't… hurt him?" Supergirl asked quickly, trying not to sound too panicked.

"Of course not!" Diana vehemently replied, sitting up in her bed. "He was being too harsh with Robin and Batgirl, so I spoke up. And we… argued."

Shayera and Supergirl shared an understanding look. They both knew Batman longer than Diana, and it wasn't the first time they'd heard about tension within the Bat Family. And if Batman disliked anything, it was people interfering with how he managed his team.

"He loves you, Diana," Supergirl spoke soothingly. "And you love him. Everyone knows that."

"Give it time, Di," Shayera said encouragingly, patting her friend's hand. "You both need a moment to cool off. That time apart will make you realize how much you value each other, and you'll make up in no time."

Diana nodded slowly, feeling foolish for how she had reacted. There was no need to blow this out of proportion.

"I should call him."

But just as Diana reached for her phone, Supergirl and Shayera grabbed her wrist in perfect sync. They shot her a disapproving frown.

"Diana, we both know you'll make up, but now it's a question of who takes the first step," Shayera said diplomatically as she circled around the bed and picked up Diana's phone.

"Bruce is far too used to getting his way," Supergirl continued. "Calling him now would only make him think he did nothing wrong."

"So… what? I don't call him even though this whole argument was pointless and childish?" Diana tried to follow their logic. "What if he's thinking exactly the same thing?"

"He probably is," Supergirl confirmed.

"So you have to starve him out," Shayera went on.

"It's a standoff," Supergirl spoke with dramatic panache. "And whoever calls first, loses."

Diana was still not convinced. All these intricate mind games were more Bruce's specialty. Her Amazon heritage favored a more direct approach. But then again, her Amazon heritage also favored hating all men, so she was giving herself some leeway.

"Fine," Diana relented. "I'll stay away from the phone for today."

"Good," Shayera said, returning Diana's phone. "Isn't the Wayne Enterprise announcement supposed to happen this afternoon?"

"Oh no! I almost forgot," Diana cursed. "What time is it? Quick, turn on the TV."

Supergirl grabbed the remote and switched it to GCTV1. Reporters were gathering around an elaborate stage set up on Wayne Plaza. The girls watched as the crowd shifted when a blacked-out Rolls Royce pulled up. No doubt Bruce had just arrived.

Shayera quietly gestured to Supergirl, and the two heroes left the room discreetly. Diana barely realized their departure, she was focused on the broadcast.

Last night's argument felt like a distant memory. She knew Bruce had huge potential for inspiring and uplifting people as Bruce Wayne if only he chose to embrace that side of himself. She wouldn't miss this for the world.

Bruce was lost in thought. Usually, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary, his alter ego kept his mind busy with mysteries and questions. But today, he wasn't thinking about work, he was thinking about life; something Dick Grayson picked up on quite quickly. It wasn't unusual for Bruce to zone out, but Dick had never seen his eyes twinkle like that.

Dick clocked Alfred in the driver's seat, picking up his boss' emotions through the rearview mirror. He was driving the two men to the unveiling ceremony at Wayne Plaza, and so far their Rolls was gliding through the freeway traffic with ease. When Tim had been offered to ride with them, he said he'd make his own way over. The pain and anger from that night in the cave were still weighing heavily on him.

"I know I can't afford it but… penny for your thoughts?" Dick said with a relaxed and casual smile.

Bruce slowly came out of his thoughts. His eyes sharpened, his muscles stiffened and he adjusted his posture to be more like billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne.

"Just thinking," Bruce replied evenly. "Nothing important."

"Bruce, when you think, it's never 'not important'."

Dick could imagine what Bruce's ensuing silence meant.

"It's about Diana?"

"Yes," Bruce replied quickly. "I haven't heard any news since last night. She's probably busy on League business."

"'League business', huh?" Dick's tone was teasing. "You're one of the League's founders. You'd know exactly what she's up to if it involved them."

"This conversation's over, Dick," Bruce stated plainly. "Let's focus on the task at hand."

"Ah yes!" Dick said with a humorous arm stretch. "The Gotham Revival Program, or GRP for short. You know, I'd have called it the Wayne Enterprise Initiative for Rebuilding and Development."

"Your tie is crooked."

Bruce reached over to his young protégée and readjusted it. It was not lost on Dick that this type of physical intimacy would have been considered unthinkable a year ago.

When Bruce was done and pulled away, Dick felt something heavy in his breast pocket. He took out a beautiful dark silver card holder. Dick was surprised when he saw the letter 'W' embossed with gold leaf.

"Is this?"

"My father's. He had it on him the night he was killed."

"I appreciate it, Bruce," Dick said with a small smile. "Feels like a pretty ominous gift, though. I hope you're not trying to insinuate anything."

"It's been in my family for generations. It's made of a unique titanium alloy, one of the first ever developed by Wayne Industries," Bruce spoke distractedly, his gaze drifting to the passing cars outside his window. "The bullet that killed my father struck him an inch away from that cardholder. After the shooting, I drove myself sick for months wondering what would have happened if the bullet had hit it instead…"

Dick wanted to hear the end, but Bruce suddenly got quiet, his gaze seeming even more distant than before.

"We'll be arriving shortly, sir," Alfred announced.

"Thanks, Alfred."

Bruce blinked a few times to make sure his special contact lenses were working. His eyes were still extremely sensitive to even the slightest exposure to light. As they pulled into Wayne Plaza, the swarm of journalists was quick to surround their car. Bruce's security team did its best to keep them away.

"I'll treasure this forever, Bruce. Thank you," Dick spoke solemnly, something he rarely did. "But can you please tell me the end of the story? It seemed like you were building up to some great bit of wisdom."

Bruce managed a small smile before he patted Dick's shoulder in the most fatherly gesture he could manage.

"Sometimes a cardholder is just a cardholder," Bruce said. "It won't stop bullets, or bring back the dead; it was only ever meant to keep your business cards organized."

And with that, Bruce stepped out into the sea of journalists.

It took a moment for Dick to follow him, as he tried to ponder the wisdom that Bruce was trying to pass on. In the end, all Dick could say for certain was that he'd netted himself a beautiful new tie clip.

Not everything has to be a lesson, but Bruce sure makes it feel that way, Dick reflected humorously as he followed his mentor out into the fray.

Tim was annoyed and bored out of his mind, a tough combination when you were surrounded by photographers and TV cameras. Dick had to nudge him occasionally whenever he started scowling or frowning too much. He was never very adept at playing his Tim Drake alter ego, unlike Bruce or Dick, who both worked the crowd like seasoned politicians.

The mass of people that had gathered at Wayne Plaza was hard to comprehend. People from all walks of life were lining up like it was a concert. The main stage was at the center of the plaza, and dotted around the circumference were food stands, interactive games, and merchandise stores, all offered at very affordable prices and with all proceeds going to charity.

It was only when Tim passed one of these merch stands that something caught his eye. He got closer, to make sure he wasn't hallucinating… he recognized those designs! They were his! When he was much younger, when he first took on the mantle of Robin, he'd enjoyed sketching and drawing during his downtime. He had done it less and less as he took on more responsibilities within the Bat Family and at Wayne Enterprises.

"They're very good, Master Tim," suddenly hearing Alfred's voice behind him nearly made Tim jump. "It's a shame you don't draw anymore. You have a very good eye for composition and color use."

The kind butler admired the various drawings that were apposed on T-shirts, hoodies, mugs, postcards, hats… They were all themed similarly, depicting futurist rundown buildings and monuments out of which emerged beautiful and lush greenery: new life being born out of ruin.

"I didn't know you kept these," Tim said, admiring the quality of the products.

"I didn't," Alfred replied with a knowing smile. "Master Bruce did."

"What?"

Tim was stunned. He'd never even thoughts about showing them to Bruce when he drew them. He had been so focused on trying to prove himself a worthy successor to Jason as the new Robin, that he felt awkward showing his drawings and sketches to Bruce.

"When Master Bruce saw these, he had a look in his eye that I hadn't seen in a very long time," Alfred confided. "Deep down, I think he was always afraid he would turn you into him, and those drawings proved him otherwise. You share his seriousness and his dedication, with your own humor and bright personality. He'd never admit it, but of all the people he's ever teamed up with, I know you are one of his favorites."

Tim took a moment to look across the grounds to spot Bruce. He was surrounded by his security team, shaking hands and taking pictures with members of the public. It felt surreal that the man who had reprimanded Barbara and him so coldly was the same who smiled and laughed with such warmth.

"I just want him to be able to rely on me, Alfred," Tim finally answered. "Diana, Dick, Clark… hell, even Wally or Ollie! I feel he trusts them more with his life than me."

"Perhaps, Master Tim," Alfred acquiesced slowly. "Or perhaps he still holds out hope that you will be better than him, and give up this life."

Alfred was quick to follow up when he saw Tim's bewildered expression:

"Master Bruce felt the choice of becoming Batman was never his to make; as though it were ordained by faith, if he believed in such a thing. In many ways, it is a curse and a burden he chose to bear alone for the longest time. He believed the darkness he fought and surrounded himself with would inevitably wash off on anyone who came close to him, and somehow corrupt them. He was terrified of that happening to Master Dick, and with Master Jason, well… he felt it did. And now, he has you and Miss Gordon; both of you very much cut from similar clothes. Your skills and abilities for your age astonish him, but he has never been able to shake the feeling that he manipulated you into this life."

Now, Tim felt he had to speak up. This was just absurd.

"That's just absurd, Alfred!" he spoke up, not too loud so passersby couldn't hear. "I sought him out. I put together Dick and Bruce's identities. I asked him to train me and let me help him. I made my own choices."

Alfred smiled kindly, though Tim could see in his eyes that his words weren't fully landing on the old butler.

"Master Tim, no teenager ever likes to hear this, but you were then, and still are now, a child. What child would not be thrilled if they encountered Batman and followed a trail of breadcrumbs as meticulously as you did to uncover his secret identity? But a child must always have the freedom to decide their own path, and Master Bruce never wants you to feel that being Robin is the only path for you."

"This is everything I've ever wanted!" Tim was careful to watch his tone with Alfred, despite how worked up he felt he was getting. "I do everything I can to make him see that. This isn't some side hustle to me! I'm ready to move on to bigger fish, to be in the same league as him and Dick."

Alfred could see in Tim's eyes that he felt he was being backed into a corner and had to justify himself. It amused the old butler to remember that a much younger Bruce Wayne had had a similar reflex when confronted with difficult truths.

It seemed the right thing to do was change the scenery a bit. He led them away from the crowds of spectators to a more discreet bench beside a marble pond.

"Did I ever tell you that when I was younger, I wanted to be a guitarist?"

"A guitarist?" Tim repeated suspiciously. "Like, a classical guitarist? Slow tunes, jazz, sort of guitarist?"

"Oh no," Alfred said with a gleam in his eye. "A punk rock guitarist."

Tim knew better than to call BS, even though he really wanted to. There was no universe in which Alfred had any ounce of 'punk' in him.

"I was part of a band when I grew up on the outskirts of London," Alfred explained, smiling at those distant memories. "We were real rabble-rousers. Back then, everyone called me Alfie, I had bleach blond hair with half my head shaved, and piercings and tattoos every which way. Nearly drove the mother bonkers."

"You're joking," Tim said, but internally he realized that Alfred was being completely serious. "How the hell did you end up here? Working for Bruce's family?"

"I changed my mind," Alfred said simply. "I did not see myself pursuing this life professionally, and eventually, despite my rebellious streak, I joined the British Special Forces, traveled the world, eventually met Thomas Wayne, and the rest is history."

"So you think I'll… 'grow out' of being Robin?" Tim asked dejectedly.

"You should feel you have the freedom to do so," Alfred said pointedly. "That's all this is, Master Tim. And the truth is also that you are still a child, and Master Bruce sees you as his own son, and he will never not be protective of you. I can't say that his decisions are always right, but we both know they come from a place of love and respect."

A few seconds went by in silence as Tim pondered.

"So I should cut him a break?" Tim finally said with a knowing smile and a lighter tone. "Take it as it comes?"

"I suppose so. Not throwing a tantrum when your father confiscates your toys is a sign of maturity."

Tim wanted to fire back at Alfred's unexpected sassiness but was interrupted by a microphone feedback sound. Lucius Fox was getting ready behind the podium on the main stage, meaning the reveal event was about to get underway.

"Duty calls," Tim said, standing up and adjusting his tie. "And I resent the term 'temper tantrum'."

"Alright, alright. Steady on," Alfred said with an amused smile.

And he added slyly just as Tim was moving away:

"No need to have a temper tantrum."

Damn that old butler, Tim thought. I swear he was never this cocky.

Everything was happening without a hitch… how boring.

Jason was observing the whole event at Wayne Plaza from a nearby rooftop, and it was a taxing exercise on his patience. He would be loath to admit it, but the fairgrounds seemed quite fun. Having to observe and not participate was a grueling assignment, and Jason knew that Bruce was testing him with this. He had always been cautious when giving out missions to Jason, and often had him paired him up with a teammate.

Speaking of which, Barbara was surveying the proceedings as well from the comfort of the Batcave. Unlike her colleagues, she enjoyed working from the cave and having the full computing and surveillance power of the Batcomputer at her fingertips.

"How's it looking, mister 'boots on the ground'?" she teased over the radio.

"About what I expected," Jason replied with a tired sigh. "No sign of anything. GCPD has a pretty good lock on the place. Nearby rooftops are clear."

"Not picking up anything on CCTV," Barbara said as she scanned her multi-monitor setup. "Radio waves are clear. No getting any alerts from social media."

"Can't believe we didn't get satellite surveillance for this," Jason yawned sarcastically.

"Knowing Bruce, I'm sure he wouldn't even object to it if we did use it," Barbara replied.

Jason stayed quiet for a few seconds before voicing something he knew would be controversial:

"Have you apologized to Bruce yet?"

Jason instantly wished he had tweaked the volume nob on his earpiece because Barbara's response was a loud one:

"Are you serious?! I'm the one who needs to apologize? The man treats us like children because he's paranoid and overprotective, and I'm at fault for standing up for myself?!"

Jason waited a few seconds for Barbara to calm down, as he surveyed the rooftops one more time through a set of binoculars.

"You know he did the same with me when I was Robin, right?" Jason said evenly, looking over the crowds below. "Ask Dick, he probably acted the same way with him. And I'm sure he reacted just like I did at the time, just like you reacted now."

"And you think that's normal?"

"Barb… we play dress up and beat up criminals, what you're definition of normal?" Jason asked jokingly. "As far as I'm concerned, it's his house, his toys, his party, his rules. Did he overact? Yeah, possibly. But he also knows that in this line of work, you're always an inch away from death and disaster."

"We accepted the consequences when he took on the responsibility, Jason," Barbara answered, less harshly.

"But he doesn't. That's just not his style. The whole 'sacrifice few to save many' shtick is not his thing. He wants to save everyone, all the time… and he's always failing. He at least wants to be certain he won't fail when it comes to us. Take it from me. I wasn't there to see it, but Dick and Alfred told me what he was like after I died… and it sounded nothing like the Bruce I know."

The pregnant silence that followed gave Jason hope that Barbara had softened her stance.

"You know, Jason, you're pretty toughtf—" Barbara interrupted herself, which immediately put Jason on alert. "I'm picking up an energy reading from inside the Cave! I think there's someone—"

She was cut off by the loud grinding sound of static, which made Jason recoil.

"Bagirl! Come in!" he tried adjusting his radio setting and switching to other channels, but nothing was getting through. "Can you read me? What's going on?!"

Jason kept his head on a swivel as he modified his frequency to contact Bruce and the others, who were all wearing earpieces.

"Red Hood, calling Batman... Red Robin, come in! Nightwing?! Do you copy?"

The same static sound came back over the radio waves.

"Fuck!"

Jason allowed himself this small outburst before focusing on where the threat might be coming from. If this mysterious attacker was able to jam their comms, they should be taken very seriously.

At a glance, he could still not make out any threat from any nearby rooftops or windows.

All right, got to make sure Barb is okay.

Always the quick thinker, Jason switched to another frequency, praying that this one wasn't blocked as well.

"Red Hood to Watch Tower, do you read me?"

After a few agonizing seconds of silence, John Stewart's voice responded over the comms.

"Who is this? You don't have clearance to use this frequency," the former Marine's harsh tone reminded Jason of his biological father, who was also the disciplinarian type.

"Take it easy, Lantern. I work for Bruce, I'm one of his little helpers," Jason replied, straight to the point.

John was very quick on the uptake. Only a handful of people knew Batman's true identity, so if someone he didn't know used it to get his attention, it had to be for a very good reason.

"Copy, Red Hood. What's happening?" John answered in a deeper octave, clearly ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.

"I just lost contact with the Batcave, and I think we're under attack. I need someone to boom tube into the cave and make sure Batgirl is safe."

"I'll head to the transporter room, right now," John replied without hesitation. "Do you need help with anything else?"

Jason kicked himself for what he was about to do but decided he'd deal with the consequences later.

"Can you tell Diana what's going on, and ask if she can come back me up down here?"

"I'll let her know," John said evenly. "I'm heading off. Green Lantern, out."

The communication went dead, and Jason heaved a minuscule sigh of relief.

That sigh died in his throat when he caught the faintest glint of light from a skyscraper, several blocks away. He immediately recognized it as the light reflecting off a sniper scope, but before he could react, it was too late...

BANG!

The shot was fired, heading straight for the stage in Wayne Plaza.

And boom! Right when it's gettin good. Next chapter is going to be a doozy :)

Thank you for your patience and amazing support. Catch you in the next one!