Rules of the Mistletoe

The motorcycle rumbled even as it came to a stop. Cluemaster allowed the engine to continue to idle while he breathed in deeply, adrenaline still coursing through his body.

That…that had been close. Much closer than he had anticipated. Three vigilantes had emerged and attempted to capture him. He still got away. He still got away! It was a heady feeling, and he had never felt so alive.

More importantly, he still had the jewelry. Both bags, filled up by how much he was able to take. It wasn't everything, but it was still something and that was what mattered. That explosion could not have come at a better time, and a look through the side mirror on the handles of his motorcycle had shown that the vigilantes were diverting to hand the fire.

Should he be offended that the sole reason he escaped was that something more important was happening? He wouldn't be. No, because capture was not according to plan. There was too much riding on this that he had to avoid capture at all costs.

Still, that he now had pursuit and that they were smart enough to solve his clues brought a level of excitement that he had not anticipated on. Was this what motivated the Riddler? The competitiveness with him committing crimes while costumed vigilantes chased after him was exhilarating.

No, don't let it go to your head. He wasn't crazy, far from it. He was a sane man with sane reasons for what he did. Reasons that anyone could understand. However, if you were to start building a defense, getting into costumed villainy might help out in the long run.

Well, a job well done tonight. The goods were in hand, he left a clue behind, so why not take a moment to marvel at what he had achieved?

Taking one of the bags, he settled it on his lap and opened it. Ah, what a beautiful sight. Practically glittering from the nearest streetlight, these jewels shined. A hand slipped in and scooped up a number of the valuable stones, raising them up only to allow some to slip and fall back in. The slight clinking sounds were like music to his ears. He did it a second time, still in awe and—wait.

Frowning, Cluemaster peered into the sack. Had it been his imagination? No, that never went wild. This time, his hand reached into the jewels with more of a purpose, moving them around, his eyes searching for…searching for…

It was small and there was a noticeable absence of gold, silver, or platinum, not to mention any kind of stone. Plucking it out, Cluemaster frowned as he took in the small, bat-shaped object that he did not remember snatching up. What was this and when did it…?

No, no, he did not grab this. It certainly wouldn't be on display in Lucy's. This meant…someone else stashed it in there. One of the vigilantes. The third one, the only one able to get close and plant this without him knowing until she made her presence known. It had to be…it had to be some kind of…tracker…? Tracer? Which would explain why they let him go to handle the explosion.

There were three of them. One or two could have diverted to help out with that explosion leaving the remaining number to continue the chase. Clever. Let the criminal go because you knew you could find him again shortly.

He knew how to handle something like this.

Dropping the small tracker, he watched as it clattered onto the asphalt. When it came to a stop, laying there accusingly, Cluemaster raised up a booted foot and stomped on it, grinding his heel for emphasis. There was a crunch, one that gave him a sense of satisfaction. Lifting his foot up, the remains of the small device were clear for anyone to see.

Even if it could transmit, it would only lead them to this area and not home base. Closing and securing the sack, the clue-themed criminal revved up the engine and rode off into the night.

"I'm not seeing anyone else around here," Bluebird's voice came over the comm link. "I'm going to pull out."

"Same," Spoiler agreed. "And I think the building is getting weaker. I wouldn't be surprised if it collapsed soon."

The heat was suffocating, but what did one expect when you were in a burning building? Batgirl listened to her fellow Batclan members and was coming to their conclusions. The three of them had separated and scoured the building, looking for survivors. She herself had found a few kids huddled in a closet and helped them out by breaking a window and lowering them down with her grapple. After that, she hadn't really found many more people.

There was a dull creaking sound, one that caused the dark-clad girl to glance around her. That must have been what Spoiler was talking about with the building becoming weaker. Seeing as she wasn't finding anyone else, she then jumped in on the active comm. "Meet outside. There's not much more we can do."

Heading down the hallway she was in, Batgirl only spared a glance at barricaded doorways, due to debris falling down and blocking them off. Her pace was picking up until she was power walking. The sooner she got out of here, the better.

At the end of the hallway, she found an open doorway, one where fire didn't rage inside of the room beyond it. She saw a window, one that was surprisingly intact despite cracks in the glass. However, she wasn't going to use that as her exit point. The hallway made a sharp left turn and she made to turn into it…

Only to find it was a dead end, the ceiling having collapsed and blocked the entire corridor. Small fires were burning at the debris, too slow to eat it all away. Well, she couldn't go that way.

Turning back around, she began to go back the way she came when the dull creaking sound became a loud groan. Suddenly, further down the hallway, the ceiling caved in, pieces of it raining down onto the floor and piling up. Instinctively, Batgirl grabbed her cape and held it in front of her face, a weak defense admittingly, but she had seen Batman do it a number of times.

When things seemed to quiet down, she peered at her path and found it blocked off that way as well. Hmm, that was bothersome. Her way forward was gone, the other way as well. What did that leave her?

Turning around, she then went to the open doorway, entering the one miraculously non-burning room in the entire building. She went right for the window, planting a foot in front of it as she raised up her other leg. With a single kick, she slammed the bottom of her foot against the glass, causing it to shatter, pieces of broken glass falling to the ground below. Pulling her leg back, she then planted her foot on the windowsill and used that to launch herself through the now-opened window. Cool air washed over her, a feeling she was grateful for. She could practically feel the sweat that was gathering inside of her armor and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Grabbing onto the edges of her cape, she parachuted down to the ground, landing unscathed. Looking around, she saw fire engines pulling up to keep points around the building, firefighters swarming out to set up their equipment.

Now she just needed to find her partners.

Darting for a nearby corner of the building, she peered around it, immediately spotting Bluebird and Spoiler. The two girls were standing out in the open, staring at the burning building. For a moment, Batgirl felt exasperated. What the hell were they doing out in the open? They needed to get out of sight, especially as the first responders were arriving.

That should have been common sense by now.

Not bothering to hide anymore, Batgirl walked towards her comrades, who spotted her. "Hey, you got out!" Bluebird called out. "We were starting to wonder."

"We need to go," was all Batgirl said as she reached them. "We're too exposed."

"Oh sure, we're okay too, by the way," the blue-clad vigilante continued, not the least bit taken back. "Just so you know."

Batgirl was ready to give the girl a glare when she noticed movement at an entrance. A group of people came rushing out, spreading out in all directions. Most of them slowed down as they bent over, breathing hard. No doubt the smoke inhalation had made it difficult for them to breathe.

However, there was one man who didn't stop. Instead, he seemed to search around himself before he spotted a firefighter and went running right for them. "You have to help!" the man cried out. "There's someone still in there! They're trapped!"

A couple firefighters were paying the man attention. Batgirl kept her attention on them, just in case a second trip in was necessary. "Where is this person? What floor?" a firefighter demanded.

"Third floor," the man answered. "It was him, Batman. He was helping us get out—"

Batgirl didn't hear much more than that as her head whipped back towards the building. Her father was still in there? And he was stuck or trapped?

Oh, she was going back in.

Something pushed and pulled against him. That was what disturbed Batman enough to come back to consciousness. The air was hot, uncomfortably so. As he cracked his eyes open, he found himself lying face down on the floor, pieces of debris all around him. His body rocked from side to side over and over.

He groaned, which caused the movement to stop. Then, "Finally, you're awake. Help me get this crap off of you."

Batman turned his head to look over his shoulder and found, of all people, Catwoman, her hands gripping onto a beam of wood, one that was partially charred, small embers glowing a bright orange. "Don't just lay there," she snapped as she began pulling up on the beam, her teeth gritting as she did so. "Help me, or you're gonna die."

Batman turned his head back to stare at the floor. Moving his hands, he pressed them down on the floor and began to push them down. The sheer weight of the debris on top of him kept him pressed down, though a couple of the smaller pieces clattered off. He relaxed for a moment, then pushed down again, trying to force himself up and dislodge more of the rubble.

"Oh, c'mon!" Catwoman snapped. "What's the point of working out as much as you do if you can't even push up a bloody log!"

Batman paused again, looking over his shoulder at her before he gritted his teeth. Then he really pushed down on the floor, slowly rising up. Catwoman stopped trying to push the support beam upward, instead opting to shove it to one side. They had better success here as the beam shifted enough that it finally moved off of the Dark Knight. Other pieces of debris fell off of him and the dark-clad man was quick to draw himself out from beneath the rubble.

However, as he began to stand up, he wobbled and nearly collapsed back to the floor. Quickly, Catwoman was at his side, her arms wrapping around his waist as she strained to hold him up. "Cut that out," she growled. "We gotta get out of here and I am not going to drag your dead weight."

There was a doorway right next to them, the vigilante reaching out with one hand to grab onto the door frame. This helped steady him, which allowed the cat burglar to better adjust herself against him, keeping one arm wrapped around him as she slung his other arm over her shoulders. "What are you doing here?" he grunted out.

"I heard you wanted to meet with me," she responded. "Figured tonight was as good as any night. Boy was I wrong."

"How did you even find me? This whole building could come down any moment."

"Which is why we need to get the hell out of here. Now start walking. You know, that's putting one foot in front of the other."

She was hedging, but that didn't make her any less right. Taking a step, and then another, the two entered the hallway, turning to head towards the exit. The vigilante let go of the door frame, his entire weight being supported by Catwoman, who just grunted. "Damn, you weigh a lot."

"Are you going to complain the whole way?"

"Yes, I am. I'm risking my ass for you. I rather not die doing it."

"I did the same for you in Riddler's maze," he pointed out. "I don't recall complaining as much as you are."

"That's because you're the upstanding hero type," she shot back. "You do this shit because you want to. I'm only doing this as a favor."

"I think you mean making things even."

"No, I'm getting one-up on you."

"You're forgetting all of the Riddler's traps."

Catwoman rolled her eyes as they reached the end of the hallway, forcing themselves to make a turn. "Alright, fine, this makes us even. Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

"I'll have you know, I was more grateful than you are right now."

Batman would have retorted, but his balance wasn't completely back, which wasn't helped by the fact he was pressed up against Catwoman, the two of them trying to move in sync with each other, but having middling results. This caused him to stumble then, his shoulder colliding with the wall.

"Hey, are you okay?" she immediately asked as she pressed herself more against him, as if she were pinning him to the wall to keep him from collapsing to the floor. He couldn't help but notice her toned body.

"I'm alright," he grunted, tilting his head up more so that he wasn't staring at the floor. With people on unsteady feet, staring at the ground had a tendency to have said floor come rushing up at you.

Because of this, he saw something hanging from the ceiling. His eyes darted around and he noticed various Christmas decorations around them, which explained why the ornament was hanging up there. Of course, much of it was damaged, so that explained why he hadn't noticed it in the first place.

"What is it now?" Catwoman complained as she noticed his distraction. She then looked up and found what he was staring at. "Is that mistletoe?"

Indeed it was. And they were under it.

The tradition dictated a kiss.

"Not that I would complain, but I think this is hardly the time for that," Catwoman remarked after a moment.

"Agreed."

"So why aren't we moving?"

That was a good question. Heat sapped strength, and smoke-filled air suffocated you. Batman began to push himself off of the wall, wobbly regaining his balance. He spared one last glance at the mistletoe before they began moving. "You know, mistletoe is deadly if you eat it," he said after a moment.

"And a kiss can be deadlier if you mean it," Catwoman quipped back.

Batman glanced down at the woman, who just gave him a wink back. He wasn't certain how to respond to that, not that he was given a chance. There was a groaning sound then, one that was not a good thing. Eyes widening, he slid his arm off of Catwoman's shoulders and onto her upper back. His other arm reached to grab onto her and then he pulled, which threw her balance off. The two of them went stumbling forward just before a section of the ceiling suddenly collapsed right where they had been walking. Batman spun the woman in front of him until he ended up pushing her against a wall, using his body to shield her from any of the debris and embers that were launched into the air.

It took a moment for things to settle before Batman withdrew from Catwoman, who peered around him at the pile of sheetrock and charred wooden beams. Then she snorted. "Even when you're hurt, you keep protecting me." Her eyes then looked up to him. She made to say more, but she ended up looking even higher.

Tilting his head back, he soon saw what had drawn her attention. There was another piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling—what were the odds?

"I think something is telling us we better follow tradition," Catwoman said then, an amused tone in her voice. One of her hands ran up his chest and onto his shoulder, moving behind his neck. "We might not get so lucky next time," she added lowly.

That lower tone made her sound husky, something that stirred certain hormones in the vigilante. He looked down at her, her eyes staring up into his, a coy smile on her face. He began to lean down to her.

"Ahem."

The two of them turned their heads. Standing a short distance away was Batgirl, her arms crossed over her chest. Because of her mask, it was difficult to tell what expression she wore, but her body language said everything.

"Is there something you want to tell me about?" she deadpanned.

Something told Batman that saying "It's not what it looks like," wasn't going to help much here.

He had learned the back alleys of this city well enough to use them to get back home. Well, not really home. It was just the latest in a long string of places where he could sleep and have a roof over his head.

His large size hid well that his heart was beating fast, like it was trying to burst out of his chest. He had been running a lot, trying to avoid that vigilante, the new one. Not Batman, not Huntress, not one of the Birds of Prey or the Batclan. At least, this one didn't look like or sound like one of the ones he knew about.

There had always been some hope that it would have been Batman. He had imagined it for some time. It wasn't anything like becoming a sidekick, though that would be nice, but to give a thank you and to show that he was paying it forward. Something like that. It sounded better in his head.

He wasn't going to be a handsome guy. A look in the mirror was all that he needed. The skin looked too stretched, eyes were too small, and it was hard to tell if his cheeks were rock hard or puffy soft. That's why he wore a hat; no reason to scare people he was trying to protect. A mask would be wasted on him.

Heavy footsteps took him out of the alleys and a look left and right showed that not a lot of people were around. There were a few, all dressed in as thick of coats as they could find. A trenchcoat was not good in this kind of weather, but it was the best he could do. It also was the largest piece of clothing he could find to fit him.

Large hands crammed into pockets for warmth, and he took a left, eyes looking around for any sign that he was still being chased. A hero in this city didn't give up easily. They didn't stop until they got the job done, no matter what. The new one chasing him would be no different.

That he wouldn't go see what made that loud boom. Something about that rubbed him the wrong way. He'd go but…what would he be able to do? He wasn't a hero, not yet. It wasn't going to happen tomorrow. All he had were these streets and the kids on them. They needed protecting too, and getting into a fight with one of the city's heroes was not something he wanted to do.

St. Aidan's was up ahead. Not quite home sweet not quite home. Not the best place he had been in, not the worst either. At least the wind wasn't blowing tonight. The wind always made things colder.

There were many steps that had to be climbed up to reach St. Aidan's doors. One hand had to leave a pocket to grab one of the door handles and push it open. He was careful this night, cracking it open and peeking through while hoping the hinges didn't squeak or creak or make that long comfortable sound you didn't want it making. Looking through the crack, he looked for any signs of one of the Sisters or even Mother Superior.

The candles were lit like they always were this time of night. There was movement…one of the Sisters leaving the chapel. Heading deeper in…okay, need to be quiet here. Did not need Sister Agnes seeing him again. Last time had been too close.

The door was pushed open wider and then he was in, the cold from outside following until he shut the door behind him. With as careful steps as he could do, he walked forward, taking time to get a better look at the chapel for any sign of life. Empty, but not for long. Someone was going to be coming back in here any moment so he quickly made his way further, heading for the rooms deeper in the building.

The rooms. They could be cells because of their size. There were closets out there that were bigger. No one really cared about who had to live in them. Still, at least there was some warmth from the heaters, struggling as they were. Donations and charity are what kept this place going, so some years were better than others.

If there was one good thing about them, you had one all to yourself.

With door after door passing by him, he arrived at one in particular, and with another look to his left and right, he opened it and slipped in. Hey, tonight was another night he was out and then back in. Either he was getting better or he had great timing.

Because this was way in the middle of the building, there were no windows here, which was why he had to use all those doors. The room itself was pitch black, so he had to be careful with moving, a leg slowly moving forward until either it could go no further or it bumped into something. To his right he moved until there was the wall, then using that, he continued until there was a desk. Somewhere on it…there.

There was light from a desk lamp, the only luxury he could have right now. He needed to go fast now; the light would go under the door and if any of the Sisters noticed it…

The first thing off was the coat. It was hung on the back of a chair that was way too small for it, so its bottom clumped up on the floor. Shoes were next and those were slid under the desk, the chair blocking off the sight of it. You'd be surprised how often people did not look there or pay attention. The brass knuckles were next followed by the hat. The knuckles were stuffed into the hat for now and placed on the desk.

Now for the rest, the shirt ,the pants, and the belt. While he started on this, the clothes began to get looser on his body. As the belt was slipped out of the loops, his pants suddenly fell to the floor. The shirt was not unbuttoned, instead it was pulled off. Coming out of it was not a large body, but a thin one. Small too.

Skin no longer stretched over bulging muscles. Instead, thin wiry ones that you would find on a kid replaced them. The face was so much younger and skin no longer seemed to stretch against it.

The kid who everyone knew as Colin reached over to the bed and pulled up some of the covers. Under those were a loose shirt and sweatpants, the stuff he wore when going to bed. That and underwear. Going commando in the cold weather was not a good idea, but none seemed to fit him after he…

Oh right, Wilkes. He was Colin Wilkes. Unsuspecting orphan at St. Aidan's Orphanage who late at night or when the need showed up became a powerhouse of a vigilante and took care of those who thought it was okay to pick on other kids. He was working himself up, getting better and better at this superhero thing, and maybe one day Batman would notice. He had no idea that the kid he saved was going to be one of his greatest allies.

Right, he needed to get to bed. He put on his sleep clothes, then he put away his superhero clothes, making sure they were tucked away in the closet. Was there anything else? Um…oh, over there. Laying on the small desk he used for homework and Bible study was his hat and the brass knuckles they were holding.

Grabbing them, he took them back to bed, putting them under his pillow. His pillow wasn't the best one out there, a little too thin, but putting the hat and knuckles under it raised his head up enough that it was slightly more comfortable. You wouldn't think it, but it worked.

Now, under the covers he went, snuggling into the thin mattress. Again, not the best, but it was what the orphanage could afford. At least the sheets and the covers were quick to warm up. When it was this cold out there, the cold could get in here, and the orphanage's heaters could only do so much. They really needed to get new ones.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Colin made to go to sleep, breathing evenly out, and…why did it feel like he was forgetting something? He was frowning trying to remember. The light was kinda annoying him and—oh, he forgot to turn off the desk lamp. Again. Aw man, and just when he was getting comfortable too.

Opening his eyes and giving the desk lamp a look as if doing that would turn it off, the redhead groaned and sat up, a hand grabbing the covers to lift them up so he could slip out. Then things he did to be a superhero and here he was getting beaten by a lamp. One of these days. Well, wouldn't it be something if he got an archenemy who used a lamp gimmick? That would be another good reason to hate lamps.

His foot was coming out, inches from the floor when it came to a stop, Colin going still. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising. Something was off. Not right. He had learned to trust that kind of instinct there.

Blue eyes began to look around his little room, but found nothing. Nothing was out of place…though he was going to need to put his superhero outfit back in his backpack later. In the morning before he went to breakfast. Needed to be ready to put that on at a second's notice. Reminder aside, there was still nothing.

Being in Gotham, a kid like him had learned that sometimes left, right, and behind weren't the only places to check. Sometimes, you needed to look up.

Colin's eyes widened, his breathing hitched, and he clenched some of his covers in his hand. Up there, sticking into the corner against the ceiling was a person, one who was staring right at him. Barely a second later, that person dropped down to the floor, landing silently.

Colin found himself pulling back onto his bed, a hand looking for and finding Rory. He needed to be sure his oldest friend in the world was still here. The person who had been hiding in here drew nearer, and the redhead's eyes widened even more as he recognized the vigilante he had met earlier tonight.

Black on the chest and arms, gray on the lower torso and legs, red gloves, black and yellow cape, it was him. The one that had tried to pick a fight with him and ignored the booms. The one that was smirking down at him because he was standing while Colin was still in bed, making him the taller of the two this time.

"Nice little secret you have, Colin," the vigilante seemed to taunt. "We're going to have a long talk, you and I."