Red Robin liked knowing things, and he certainly knew a lot. He had password-locked computer files on each member of his family and several dozen people outside of his family, none of whom were rogues or supers he was needing to keep an eye on. Damian's file, for example, said nothing about Ra's or Robin or katana techniques. Instead, it had lists of his favorite brands for various art supplies, where his seventeen most common hiding spots were, and a diagram of how he felt about over thirty different people he attended Gotham Prep with. He knew the exact layout of the Pentagon and who worked in each office (which had come in handy more than once). He knew more about alien technology than most people on Earth. Some of that he'd learned though direct instruction from people like Clark and J'onn. Some of it had come first-hand when hot-wiring a crashing spaceship. And now, thanks to Constantine, he knew that Haunt was not from their dimension but was certainly imprisoned in it. An alien in a different way.
He liked knowing that because it meant he knew it.
Batman, however, did not like knowing that. In fact, he was pretty displeased by the information.
"You're sure about this?" he growled.
Constantine sighed heavily. "It's a guess. A confident one."
That morning, the occult detective had shown up in Gotham, citing his investigation into a powerful wave of magic that had rocked across the world nine weeks prior. Due to a demon uprising, he hadn't been able to address the magical surge until weeks after it had happened, and by then he had only a faint residual trail that didn't want to be followed. Once he'd been in the city, he'd made quick work of explaining what he knew about the cause of the pulse—a dimensional gateway—and exactly where it had happened—Apostle Avenue. Then he'd presented his case: It only made sense that the dimensional traveler who appeared in Gotham City nine weeks ago was the same person as the unknown, powerful sorcerer that had started showing up a week later.
"Look, it doesn't sound like they've caused any problems. I haven't found anything about any new hell portals or human sacrifices. Actually sounds like they've been helpful." Constantine took out a cigarette to replace the one Batman had knocked away earlier. "My job's done."
"Haunt hasn't given us any reason to distrust them," Nightwing pointed out.
Instead of addressing that, Batman addressed his next statement to Constantine still. "You said the dimensional spell is an imprisonment spell."
Constantine scrunched up his face in displeasure. "Yeah, probably misspoke there. Not so much an imprisonment spell as an outprisonment spell."
"That doesn't—"
"So whoever cast the spell didn't care where Haunt went as long as they were out of that dimension?" Red Robin cut in.
Constantine made a so-so movement with his hand and then lit his cigarette. "They might've meant to send them here, but the spell doesn't prevent Haunt from jumping into another dimension if they have the capability."
"But they're locked out of their old one," Red Robin concluded. "I'm guessing it takes someone pretty strong to cast a spell like that." When Constantine nodded and raised his cigarette in his direction, he groaned. "So either Haunt was the enemy of someone very bad that threw them out or Haunt was the enemy of someone very good that threw them out. In which case . . . ."
"In either case, Haunt is dangerous," Batman growled.
"Sure," Constantine agreed tiredly. With a grunt, he hauled himself up from the couch. "Let me know if they start summoning demons. Otherwise, this doesn't seem like my problem anymore." He headed for the safe house's exit.
Once he was gone, Nightwing said, "At least we have an idea of where Haunt is from, now. And none of this is evidence of them being an enemy."
"Right," Red Robin said, closing his notebook. "They could be an inter-dimensional prisoner that's getting ready to hunt us for sport."
Nightwing snickered. "I don't think you're helping."
"I'm going to look into this," Batman growled. "Do not engage with them. Let me figure this out." He paused by the door on his way out and looked towards Red Robin, lips thin. "Do not engage."
He offered up a salute. "Yes, sir."
Batman didn't looked convinced. He looked over at Nightwing, sighed, and left.
"Sooo," Red Robin said, flipping his notebook open again. "He said on Apostle Avenue, right? Near Cliff Street?"
Nightwing huffed a laugh. "You're so predictable, you know."
"Rude. Are you coming with or not?"
There was nothing special about Apostle Avenue. It was a street in Burnley mostly populated with stores but also a handful of apartment buildings, a single credit union, and a business park. Red Robin hadn't exactly expected to find wanton destruction or magical runes burned into the road—after all, they definitely would have found out about that before now—but he'd been hoping for some kind of clue. Any physical clues that might have been there were seemingly lost to the nine weeks between Haunt's arrival and now.
And so Red Robin was left with only one available lead for exactly what happened nine weeks ago. As soon as they were back in the Batcave, he yanked off his cowl and headed straight for the Batcomputer.
"Security cameras?" Dick asked, hanging his helmet on the Nightcycle's bars. "Do you even have a time frame?"
"Constantine gave us a range of a few hours," Tim said dismissively. "That street is packed with cameras. And at least some of those should have stuff saved back that far. I hope."
"I think he specifically said 'sometime that day,' which is more than a few hours." Dick joined him at the computer, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms. "So what's the plan here?"
"Figuring out whatever I can about Haunt." Tim paused and looked up at him. "What? Why?"
Dick didn't do anything immediately, gaze lingering on the security footage Tim was combing through. He shrugged. "Haunt saved my life. I don't want to repay that with suspicion."
Tim smothered a flinched at the reminder that Haunt's portal had been all that stood between Nightwing and a watery death only a week before. "I don't think Haunt is an enemy."
Dick nodded, shoulders relaxing. "Don't think B sees it that way. He's a bit . . . aggressive whenever Haunt shows up."
Tim snorted. "That's one way to say it. Haunt's an unknown, and you know those are his favorite. He loves not knowing what's going on."
"A bit like someone else I know."
"Ha ha. Very funny. That's—" Tim faltered, attention turning back to the screens fully as they filled with static. "What?" he muttered, scrubbing back. Apostle Avenue reappeared on the security recordings. He slowed the playback. The street was filled with cars stuck in traffic, and the sidewalks were crowded with people. It was not long after five, and people were caught up in rush hour at the end of the work day. The illuminated sign in the window of Giorgio's Pizzeria, the one announcing they were open, was shining in both security cameras that could see it.
Then the timestamps all hit 5:23PM, and everything went to static.
"That's weird." Dick pushed himself off the desk and turned, crossing his arms. "What's causing that? Is something wrong with the files you accessed?"
"I don't think so. File corruption wouldn't have happened so evenly across the board." He sped up through the footage. At the 5:37PM mark, the static disappeared all at once. The streets were still full of cars, and the sidewalks of people, except . . . .
Tim moved back to just before the static appeared. Then to after. Before. And after again. "Those are the same cars."
Dick leaned in closer to get a better look. "Fourteen minutes, and they didn't move?"
"They're moving now. And look: Giorgio's sign. It must've been off. It's doing that flickering thing it always does when he turns it on. But why wouldn't we have heard of a fourteen minute blackout?"
Dick chuckled and straightened, clapping Tim on the shoulder. "Have fun. While you get sucked into this mystery, I'm going to grab a bite before crashing. I'm headed back to Blüd in the morning, but let me know if B finds out what you're doing and overreacts. And don't forget to get some sleep, too. Don't make Alfred have to come down here."
"He won't have to," Tim muttered. "I'm responsible."
"Uh-huh." Dick ruffled his hair and laughed as Tim tried to fix it. "Night, kiddo."
Tim squinted at whoever had just come into the kitchen. They flicked the light on, and he groaned in protest, putting his hands over his eyes. "C'mon, man," he muttered. "Some of us are working here."
Jason snorted. "Is that what you're doing? I thought you were asleep."
"Resting my eyes," Tim corrected, refocusing on his laptop screen. "And yes, I'm working. Unlike some people."
"Hey, I did plenty today." Jason retrieved the leftover coffee cake and a fork and joined him at the table. He kicked his chair back, putting his feet up.
"Did you get the supplier's name?"
Jason paused, bite halfway to his mouth. Then he made a face and shoved the food in. As he chewed, he said, "Nah. Not yet."
"Wow. Sounds like you did a lot."
"Timberly, do me a favor and shut up."
"Uh-huh. Sure thing. Constantine's gone, by the way."
It took him a moment. "Constantine was here?" he asked in bewilderment.
"Yep." Tim popped the 'p' and sat back with a groan, rubbing at his eyes. They ached. "Haunt's a dimensional alien."
"Haunt's an alien," Jason said flatly.
"A dimensional alien. Meaning they're not from our dimension."
"And they're an alien. I was leaning more towards, ya know, demon, maybe. Ancient sorcerer. Reincarnated Merlin."
"Not a space alien. A dimensional alien," he repeated, stressing the word. "Though they could be a space alien wherever they're from, I guess. I don't know. But I'm going to find out."
"Right." Jason sat up and dragged Tim's computer around. "Whatcha got so far?"
Tim groaned, folding forward until his head hit the table. "Nothing," he mumbled into the wood. When Jason made a questioning sound, he raised his voice. "Nothing!" He sat up, jabbing a finger at his computer. "They showed up in Gotham via dimensional portal on the 13th at Apostle Avenue sometime between 5:23 and 5:37. A whole bunch of electronics stopped working for just a bit when that happened, but we never noticed because we were on the other side of the city dealing with the bombs ticking all over the Diamond District. And since then? Nothing! Other than them showing up consistently against the big bads we have running around and the occasional small time mom and pop shop robbery or house fire, I haven't found a single hint of Haunt anywhere. No more electronic disturbances. No weirdly suspicious people that don't seem like they belong. And definitely no space aliens!"
Jason finished looking over the (very little) information Tim had gathered. "Yikes, dude," he said with little emotion. "How much coffee have you been chugging?"
Tim frowned at him. "Why?" he asked defensively.
"Because the last three lines of this are all completely misspelled." Jason leaned in closer to the screen. "What does 'aliqtepad' mean? Or is that a cry for help?"
"Shut up." Tim snatched his computer back, squinting as he tried to figure out what he was talking about. The text was swimming a bit.
"Will do." Jason got to his feet and moved to put the plate away. "Good luck. I'm heading out."
"Heading out? You just got here."
"Yeah, 'cause Alfie said he kept some coffee cake for me. But my bed's calling my name, and I've an early appointment. My place is closer to it, and that means a bit more time to sleep in." He detoured back to the table for just a moment, taking advantage of his brother's sleep deprived state to mess up his hair. "Let me know if Haunt has antennae."
