Be Challenged

"Ok Grayson, simple stuff. Go to Bludhaven. Trail the dealers. Follow dealers to source. Blow up source. Go back to MIT. All in three days. Piece of cake," Dick mused as he rode his motorcycle from Gotham, "Lucky Bruce called during a three-day-weekend. Or maybe he did that on purpose to maximize the chances of me taking this case."

He rode for another forty minutes before arriving at the Sherl Hotel, one of the nicer hotels in Bludhaven. Dick pushed that he'd be fine in a quick cheap motel, but Bruce insisted. He walked up to the front desk to check in.

"Good afternoon, sir," the cheerful receptionist girl greeted, "Welcome to the Sherl Hotel. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes. Freddie Dinardo."

"Alright, Mr. Dinardo, we have you up in the President's Suite for three nights and two days."

(C'mon Bruce! I don't need that much luxury) "Sounds good. Thank you."

"Here is your room key. Breakfast is included and starts down here every day at six am. And uh, if you're craving a midnight snack, you can call this number at any time. I will personally bring you something good to eat," the girl winked as she slid him a note clearly with her phone number on it.

"Uhhhh thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Dick awkwardly took the note and his room key and made his way upstairs.

"Glad Zee gave me a pretty solid alias. I really don't want groupies crowding the room of Dick Grayson…"

He opened the door to his room and was both in awe and a little annoyed. The suite was very spacious. There was a living room with a couch facing a giant flat screen TV. There was balcony the gave a decent view of the city. The mini bar was snugly set in the corner with a fridge stocked with various sodas and waters. The bathroom was to the side with both a jacuzzi tub and a shower cubicle. The bedroom was another separate room with yet another TV and a king-sized bed. There was a walk-in closet with multiple shelves and hangers and a safe deposit box.

"Well, at least the balcony will make things easy for Robin to come and go."

He set his biometrically locked suitcase down on the counter and grabbed an orange soda from the fridge. He turned on his laptop and began reviewing the intel from Bruce.

"Ok, Bruce didn't give me much to work with. New drug is called HFS which stands for 'Holy Fucking Shit'. Huh, kinda literal with the name but alright. Dealer's been targeting high school kids and early college students. Well now ain't that just dandy. Intel came from a low level grunt. Says here he was thrown out of the Iceberg Lounge? Even ol' Oz won't touch this stuff? Interesting. And the only thing that grunt said was that the stuff came from Bludhaven. Geez Bruce, you're asking me to find a needle in a haystack."

Dick stood up and started pacing the room. From the window, he saw a police precinct a little way down the street.

"Well, good a place to start as any."

*RING RING*

"BPD 69th Precinct, this is Officer Reynard how may I help you? Uh huh. Uh huh. Don't worry ma'am, your dog will be found. Our officers will do everything we can. Thank you. Have a good day," Reynard hung up and scribbled something on a sticky note, "Ay Paulie! Another missing dog."

"Oh no. What a shame," Paulie answered while shooting a nerf basketball into a hoop.

Just then, a gentleman with a goatee wearing a pair of sunglasses and a gray suit walked in.

"Afternoon officers. I'm agent Freddie Dinardo of the FBI. I've been tracking a new street drug and found myself here in Bludhaven. I was hoping you boys could share any intel you got with me."

"Uhhh new drug? Here in Bludhaven? Pft sorry mister. You got the wrong town."

"Really? According to our investigation I'm looking for HFS aka Holy Fuckin Shit," Dick said as he opened a notepad.

"HFS you say? Uhhh what'd you say your name was again?"

"Agent Dinardo of the FBI."

"Uh huh….hey Paulie. Call the captain."

"Uhh sure thing Rey."

"Why don't you take a seat err uh Agent Di uh Agent Dino",

"It's…..uh sure."

Freddie took a seat, but his eyes wandered around assessing the quite frankly underfunded precinct. Dust caked nearly every surface of the place. Wallpapers were peeling at various corners of the bullpen. Tiles on the floor were cracked and broken. Freddie reeled at the underlying stench of mold and cheap coffee.

"Agent Dinardo?"

"Yes, hello Captain…?"

"Captain Angel Rojas at your service. Please come into my office. Let's chat."

Freddie followed Captain Rojas who closed the door to his office and shut the blinds giving the two absolute privacy.

"I hear you're looking for a street drug."

"Yup. HFS. Kids are calling it Holy Fucking Shit."

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, Agent, but there's none of that shit here in Bludhaven. Sure, we got crack, cocaine, weed, and sometimes that shit Scarecrow peddles. But no HMS or whatever."

"HFS. And I'm pretty sure there's a hub around here somewhere. One of my guys collared a dealer in Gotham. Perp sung like a bird. Said he got his supply from a guy here in Bludhaven."

"Well then, your guy musta lied to save his own skin. As captain of a police precinct here, I'm pretty in tuned to what we got going on here. Never heard of this ELS or whatever."

"Again, HFS. But, Captain, the intel is good."

"Look, Freddie, can I call you Freddie? Anyway, if you're looking for drugs or whatever, go to a club or something. Pin the kids there for Xanax or diazepam or something. Ain't no HEB here."

"Alright now you're just messing up the name on purpose."

"Have a nice day, Agent Freddie."

Reluctantly, Freddie got up and left the precinct. Once the coast was clear, Captain Rojas dialed a mysterious number on his cellphone.

"Yea? It's Rojas. I know you said not to call you on this line but….Yes sir. Of course, sir. But listen, there's this FBI agent…."

Oddly, Dick did take one advice from the clearly corrupt police captain. If he wanted to find drugs, he'd have to go clubbing. He went back to the hotel and traded in his gray suit for a black dress shirt and some black slacks and gelled up his hair a little. He needed to commit to the party boy look so he rolled up his sleeves, popped the collar, let out a few buttons, and put on a gold chain. He kept the goatee though. Zatanna would never let him grow a real one so this was an opportunity to play around with it for a bit.

"Name?"

"Freddie Dinardo….with a big D," Dick said throwing up a little in his mouth.

"You ain't on the list needle dick. Move along."

"Hold on now. How about we consult my friend Benjamin," Dick asked sliding the bouncer a hundred-dollar bill.

The bouncer shifted his sunglasses down and eyed Dick. He wasn't biting, but he wasn't throwing Dick out either.

"Along with his twin brother?" Dick slipped him a second hundred-dollar bill.

"I thought they was triplets"

"Sigh fine," Dick rolled his eyes but gave the guy yet another hundred dollars.

The bouncer removed the red rope and gestured Dick to enter.

"Welcome to Equinox, Big Dick Freddie."

Dick walked in and was immediately hit with a wall of sweat, weed, and strong alcohol. Loud music pumped all around. There was a mosh pit of bodies in the middle just rubbing against each other. Dick scanned around and saw some VIP tables lining the dance floor and upper balconies. He noticed a bar to the side and tried to tip-toe around the rowdy dancers.

"What's up bro. What can I get for you?" the bartender asked.

"Hey man. I'm looking to get turnt tonight. My girl left me for my best friend. Real messed up situation. They've been hooking up behind my back for like eight months now. I got no one to go home to and no one to turn to. I need some of the good stuff."

"Top shelf hard liquor. You got it boss."

"Nah nah. I'm not talking about getting wasted. I'm talking about getting fucked up. Heard there was some spice flowing through these streets."

"Spice? Oh you want that kind of hard stuff."

"Yea bro. You got any," Dick leaned closer to ask, "HFS lying around?"

"Hmmmm what you say your name was?"

"Name's Freddie."

"Uh huh. Hey listen, I only got mid spice if you know what I mean. Xanny, hot powder. That sorta thing. You want that HFS? I know a guy. Head to this place, follow the instructions, and he'll hook you up," the bartender explained handing Dick a note with an address.

"Much appreciated."

Dick got up to leave. Once in the clear, the bartender sent a text to an unknown number.

"He's on his way."

Dick arrived at the supposed meet-up spot. It was a run-down apartment building. Windows were broken. Brick pieces were falling off. The paint on the door was peeling. Clearly no one lived here.

"Well on the plus side, this place screams drug den. It also reeks of that trap stench," Dick mentioned as he cracked his knuckles, "Next move: spring the trap."

He walked up to door and knocked three times. A voice called out from inside

"Who's out there?"

"I'm looking for Dirty Mikey. I'm in the market for some HFS."

"Do you bite your thumb at me good sir?"

"Yes, I do indeed bite my thumb at thee." (Never pegged drug dealers to be Shakespeare buffs but aight)

The rickety door swung open to reveal Dirty Mikey. He was a big chunky guy in dire need of a haircut and a shave.

"Welcome. Come on in. I got the supply right upstairs."

Dick followed Mike up to the third floor. The inside of the building made the outside look like a palace. Wires and pipes stuck out from the walls. The stench of mold permeated throughout. Wood floors creaked with every step. They got to an apartment and Mikey unlocked the door.

"After you," Mikey invited.

"Nah, I don't wanna be rude. You first."

"Oh I insist…..NARC"

Abruptly, Dirty Mike used his brute strength and grabbed Dick's arm. He threw the Boy Wonder into the room and slammed the door locking it with a click. Dick got up realizing he was trapped in essentially an empty apartment. He ran to the door to try and pry it open.

"Seriously?! I got locked in the one place here with a solid door? Ugh rookie move Grayson."

*TICK TICK TICK*

Dick whipped his head around hearing the unmistakable sound of a bomb counting down. He noticed a board covering the fireplace. Quickly, he tossed the board aside to find said bombing counting down from twenty seconds.

"No time to take it apart and defuse," Dick thought aloud as he looked around.

The windows were boarded up. However, one wasn't covered properly, and the wood looked cracked and thin.

"No time to think. Do or die, Grayson."

He sprinted towards the weak boards and threw a pair of explosive discs at it. Seconds later, they exploded clearing the exit for Dick. He dove through the window somersaulted and pulled his grapple out to reel himself up the nearby building as the trap den burst into flames behind him. The force from the explosion thrusted him upward and he hit the side of the building. His hand lost its grip on the grapple, and he started falling. His head hit the fire escape as he landed on a closed dumpster and rolled into the alley. While sore, he oddly felt fine. Nothing seemed to be broken or bruised. When he opened his eyes, a gold aura surrounded him but faded away. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the Zatara Roman coin that was still faintly glowing. Smiling, he kissed it.

"Thanks, Zee."

Quickly, he got up and left before the fire department arrived to clean up the mess. On the other side of the building, Dirty Mike dialed a number.

"Hey boss. Yea, it's done. Grubby little narc ain't gonna be sniffing around no more. Alright. Talk to ya later."

Dick climbed on top of his suite's balcony and stepped into his living room. He tossed his ruined club clothes into a hamper and stepped into the shower to soak.

"Yea….I'm gonna need more than three days."

Meanwhile…

"Thank you all for coming tonight! I hope you had a great time. If you'd like, please check out my brand-new merch stand out front. I've got t-shirts, posters, mugs, and little wands for the kids too. Don't forget, I'll be doing a meet-and-greet in fifteen minutes. I can't wait to meet you all!" Zatanna smiled as she ended her show.

The buzz around her performance spread like wildfire across Gotham. People of all ages came to be amazed. This was her fourth straight sold-out performance and definitely wasn't her last. To connect with her fans more, she began holding a picture and autograph table after her shows. People lined up around the main hall and almost out to the street to say hi. She almost felt embarrassed by all the attention she was getting. Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out to a raucous crowd cheering and whistling for her.

"Hi everyone! As usual, the theater wants to shut its doors at midnight. I'll try my best to get to everyone here. Please keep the line orderly and be kind to your fellow showgoers."

She sat down to begin meeting and greeting her fans.

"Hello! And who might you be?"

"H-Hi! My name is Traci! I uh I really love your show. You're so amazing and beautiful. I want to be just like you!"

"Aww thanks, Traci. I bet you've got some amazing talents!" Zee complimented as she signed a photo print of herself, "Would you like a picture together?"

"Really? That'd be awesome!"

After a few more signings and selfies, one gentleman finally got to the front of the line. His jet-black hair was spiked up. He straightened his leather jacket and smoothed out his purple undershirt.

"Hi there. It's nice to meet you," Zee smiled.

"Pleasure is all mine, Miss Zatara. I gotta say, you're show was quite dazzling. You've got some real talent."

"Why thank you. I've had a lot of practice though. I'm just really happy the show turned out so well."

"Honestly, it looked so realistic. Almost as if you've got some real magic powers"

"Hehe, well that was the goal. Glad I could make it look that realistic," Zee laughed nervously.

"At any rate, I'd be so honored to have your autograph. But if you'd be so kind to use my pen. It's very special."

"Oh! Ok, sure thing."

Zee took the offered pen, but just as she was about to sign one of her prints, the pen shifted and morphed into a daisy right in her hands. Shocked, she looked up at the mysterious gentleman.

"Uhhh, what did you say your name was?"

"Sebastian…"