Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Two blocks right, down the road - check the light then off you go! It was a little matra repeated over and over to Isabella as she went past what she assumed was… well, the name didn't matter.

It was a route she’d taken many times before, more than she could really count. Then again she couldn't count that high.

She clutched her bright green frog umbrella tightly above her head, craning her neck to try and get a look at the street sign as she padded closer.

P….att….er?

Patt-er…sooooon?

Patter-son

Patterson!

With the right street confirmed, Isabella shuffled around the corner, speeding up just a little past the crooked stop sign. That was the second block, now just down the road!

Isabella hummed under her breath, a half skip in her step as she made her way down the sidewalk. It was one of the nicer ones, so she didn't have to slow down as much to avoid cracks for her Mama’s sake.

The rain was really coming down now, but that was exactly why she had on her bright green froggy boots as well. Mama had reminded her to pack them after listening to Tio Curren.

Mama said that Mr. Curren wasn't her tio, and just a weatherman but he never looked THAT tired, and besides she saw him every morning on the TV. So he was practically family.

Reaching the end of the road Isabella paused. She didn't always remember things right, too many thoughts in her mind. But her Tia taught her to shoo away the bees in her brain and remember her steps.

Steps made remembering things so much easier! You'd know if you forgot something and could go figuring it out. Isabella liked her steps, and right now she was onto a whole new set. She checked the light, it was red.

Isabella pushed up her glasses doing her best to tuck her hair under her jacket hood, but her fingers kept getting caught in the curls. Thankfully she was on her way to Tia Carmen, she worked at the salon and of course she would be well equipped to help in her dilemma.

She managed to move her glasses enough to see, and side stepped over to the pole. Moving her umbrella to her other hand, she clicked on the button.

“Please wait to cross Lincoln Ave,” the sign remarked back.

Don't worry Mr. Sign, she knew her steps. Press the button, wait for the man... um… something something, then you can!... Okay maybe she didn't know her steps that well, but that didn't matter, she could ask her Tia when she got over there.

“You may cross!" Mr. Sign announced, but she was careful.

Isabella glanced across the street, her glasses were a little foggy but she was able to squint enough to make out the walking man across the way. Jumping off the curb with a start, her froggy boots splashed onto a small puddle below.

One foot in front of the other, she couldn't help but look down at her feet. It was funny, the googly eyes in her boots would shake every time she took a step, and the water splashed.

She giggled. But- she couldn't hear it?

The rain hasn't gotten that much louder, but it was loud what was-

Isabella turned to the side, and all she saw was a shadow moving at her and two bright lights staring down at her.

Oh… she remembered the step now.

She forgot to look both ways.
.
.
.

For a moment, all she felt was floaty. The next, the pain sunk in. But- she didn't feel broken. Her arm really really hurt though.

Isabella half stumbled, something stopping her from falling fully by the pull against her arm. Something was wrapped around her arm… it hurt.

She sniffled, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe. Where was her umbrella? Reaching, she felt at what was tangled around her arm.

It was long and kind of cold, with little bumps across- but she couldn't tell what it was. It felt like a chain, like the one from her big brother's necklace.

Isabella was terrified, but her Mama had taught her what to do. Even as her head was spinning and her arm still hurt, and the long necklace she couldnt move away. She needed to follow her steps.

Opening her eyes, her vision refused to focus, her glasses nowhere to be found. She could make out the wrap on her arm was silver and shiny, and it was pulled away from her.

Trailing up the line of silver there was a hand covered in black. It looked like a monster. But then she looked further and saw it.

Blue.

A figure of blue, staring down at her. They were tall but that just meant they were an adult. She couldn't make out their face, it was covered, but she couldn't say by what.

Isabella was scared. She didn't always know what was going on with Tia saying her head was in the clouds. But she knew about cars, she paid attention during Mr.Curtis' lecture on road safety.

She should have been hit. But she's okay?

Or well- her curls were beginning to sag as the rain continued to hound down, her glasses and froggy umbrella long gone, and she was stuck with a strange adulty person she didn't know.

But they had saved her- right?

“Are you a hero?" Isabella asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The figure paused, and she felt as the necklace slowly unwound from her wrist. Yellow and black gloves pulled it all away.

They didn't speak, and she didn't either.

When the weight was lifted she rubbed at her arm, it stung, but nothing a bandaid, vapor rub, and kisses from her Tia and Mama couldn't fix.

She blinked, and the hand was now in front of her. Well- they had not hurt her yet, and if they tried anything, she could scream really loud. She took their hand.

Slowly, one foot in front of the other- she could see the little movement as the black froggy eyes on her boots shook each time she took a step, and felt the water splash against her pants leg.

They stopped, and slowly the figure moved its grip from her wrist and opened her palm. She felt something pressed inside, tracing fingers across the familiar curve and point outline of her glasses.

Isabella gasped, quickly flipping open the arms and slipping the glasses onto her face. Her vision cleared and she blinked, letting out a happy gasp as the blurred colors gained shape. Only pausing when she felt something brush against her leg.

A green froggy umbrella lay, upside down, propped against the pole just next to her. Reaching out, she spun the umbrella enough to knock away the water and lifted it over her head.

But right as she lifted her head, she noticed something.

The blue was gone.

She quickly whipped her head around, hard enough it made her a little dizzy. But nothing- even the sky was just another shade of grey.

Isabella wasn’t sad though- she was safe, and she didn't have time to look for the blue, not when her Tia would start getting worried if she wasnt there soon.

So she tucked her froggy umbrella in the crook of her arm, shifting her feet till her heels touched and looking up at the grey sky, covering the layered rooftop horizon.

With her now free hands cupping her mouth she belted out as loud as she could “THANK YOU!!!”

A few birds startled, flying into the air around her, and she saw a few people turn to look. But she paid them no mind.

Quickly pulling her froggy umbrella back into her hand and one foot after the other, continued her steps.

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From the rooftop, despite the static quality- it was easy to make out the little girl as she skipped up a step and buzzed herself into her Aunt’s salon. Taking just a moment to shake off the topmost layer of rain before being greeted with a warm embrace as they disappeared behind a wall of glass and old brick.

Barbara leaned back in her chair with a sigh- once again, they'd gotten just a glimpse of the figure that had been at the center of her mind for the past week now. But funny… just like another red bird, the cameras never seemed to catch more than a glimpse.

“Got another sighting, little girl saved from a swerving vehicle, police apprehended the drunk driver but the vigilante at the scene part of the report…” Babs trailed off as she half spun her chair away from her set up to face the other wall of the clocktower.

“It's blank.”

Her gaze focused on a very wide eyed looking Jason, lounging on her beat up couch and dressed in nothing more than a white tank top and wonder woman sweats. A bright green cucumber mask plastered on his face and a copy of Grapes of Wrath loosely in his hand.

“Are you sure it's not Cardinal?" He asked with a lifted brow, setting his book aside.

“Officers would have marked it- or Cardinal would have already hacked into their system to flag it,” Babs sighed, shaking her head. “Besides, no one reported even a flash of red, let alone an unusual concentration of birds.”

Jason cursed under his breath, shifting off the couch and slowly walking to stand next to her. His hand slipped under one of her side desks before latching onto its target.

He spared only a moment to ensure he didn't knock over her cane before whipping a small rolling chair out from its nook. All it took was flipping up a small latch and the chair expanded, unfolding until it was a full fledged office chair.

Jason was quick to prop himself right alongside her workspace. “Have you already checked the alternate systems?"

Barbara leveled him a glare. Of course she had, those and the systems that even the Bat himself didn't know about. She pushed her glasses up her nose as she gestured to the wall of screens. “All of it- nothing.”

“Well it's something-” Jason corrected, moving to access the monitor himself. “Something we can give them.”

The screens were flying past- but it wasn't hard to keep track of what he was doing. Familiar motions she'd repeated hundreds of times.

A motion she’d done just last week, when Jason showed up at the clocktower right after she had gotten word from Spoiler about what went down after they had gone offline.

The reboot hadn't been fast enough for him apparently enough as he began slamming his hand against the keypad and incessent of buzzing demanding to be let in. She would have been pissed if he didn't look so… rattled.

Hell- it unsettled her enough to check his cell right after buzzing him in.
But no- the bastard was still there, carving stupid smiles into blocks of cheap soap.

Then what on earth had happened to get that look?
She got her answer when Jason snuck upstairs. Instantly asking if she could “go dark” from even Bruce.

It scared her. But she wasn't there for him the first time he and Bruce went through a row- and the way that turned out? She turned all systems on faux dark, with just a few lines of code, the clocktower was more secure than the darkest rooms of area 51.

“Talk to me… please,” she'd insisted. And he did.

If it wasn't for the fact that she’d lived in Gotham for so long and been trained under ‘The Batman’ before the rest of the kids softened him up, she wouldn't have been able to save face.

Cardinal had finally slipped.

Bluejay had managed to almost touch their shoulder- and gained more insight in just a half hour than years of research and careful monitoring had even come close to achieve.

She should feel happy.

But watching Jason, shoulders hunched, looking so much smaller as he clutched his helmet in hand. His eyes wide as he looked into her very soul. The kid all grown up, who used to look at her with such admiration, now looking, pleading, for answers she didn't have.

It made her sick.

Cardinal always felt so, untouchable.

It was how she felt about The Bat before she truly got to know the man behind the mask.

Both served as figures of justice fueled wrath in a city that otherwise swallowed good people whole. They were alike in a way that she couldn't quite nail down, no matter how much she wished to.

But Cardinal being rattled as Jason had described? If they were anything like Bruce- it was cause for concern.

Barbara could count on one hand how many times she had seen Bruce truly terrified.

Once early on, just a few months after having Dick. Back when so much as a sneeze set the man on edge. She was dragged along by her father to a charity event the Waynes attended.

Dick, the stupid boy wonder he was, decided to show off to the guests. Ignoring Bruce glances as he climbed onto the banister, ready to leap and latch on to the chandelier in the center of the room.

It would have been fine, except for the fact that said acrobat never had to do tricks in slick leather shoes. He slipped. Only managing a sharp screech before beginning to plummet down.

It was by some miracle, she thought at the time, that Bruce had managed to bolt across the crowd and dive right down to catch him. He was fine- but that almost left Bruce hands shaky and eyes wide in a way that caught her eye outside the blubbering fool she thought him to be.

The second time…. well that time was her own damn fault.

They had received the alert from Cardinal themselves a few weeks prior, about the Joker's new target.

Not Batgirl, but Barbara Gordon.

Bruce had rationalized it to her that this was his twisted way to try and “break” her father. But that only fueled the red hot pit in her chest. That the peace outside her mask had been stolen by him without even lifting a finger.

The event, the one she had been so proud to put together for her city, was cancelled. And even after that, she was put under some bullshit protection order.

She just wanted to return her library book.

It was a five minute walk, seven in the rain. But the skies were clear. A walk she could do deaf and blind, and had done a thousand times since she was a girl.

In the moment, she hadn't thought to do more than take her pepper spray and text Dick where she was going, knowing full well he was out of town and was too nice to rat her out.

It was only just as the familiar weathered stone came into view that she noticed something that hadn't been there the first thousand times. Laughter.

But not like the bell-like sound of a child, or hearty bellow of a cheery man after a long day. It grew louder, closer.

It wasn't the soft melody of an older woman walking by, or the loud out of breath cackling of some teens making their way home.

The laughs rang right behind her, so close she could practically see the white tufts of hot air meeting Gothams chill night.

It was sharp, digging into her brain in a way that felt almost violating. She barely had a moment of recognition before it was too late.

The thing about being shot is that, in the moment, you feel next to nothing.
Your body doesn't know how to process such a thing, sometimes it doesn't until several minutes after.

Barbara knew though, almost instinctively the moment her legs gave from under her. She could hear the bastard saying something, standing over her with the only thing not spinning being his smug grin.

She was exactly what she had always dreaded the most, helpless.

In a blink, he was gone. Something she only recognized because she was suddenly bathed in a cloak of silence outside her heart pounding in her ears.

The first thing she had felt was the warmth leave her cheeks and coat her hands. Her hands, shaking, reached into her inner coat with enough gathered strength to pull out her phone.

“Call… Boy wonder.” She had managed to choke out, her mouth tasting so strongly of metal it made her want to gag.

It was a blur-

She knew only from the later police report that she had been laying there for no more than ten minutes.

Despite the odds, the bleeding was fairly slow, at least slow enough with her pressing against her own wound to not black out quite yet. That was until she felt, more than heard, the thundering footsteps racing closer.

For a moment, she had feared the worst, that he'd come back to finish the job.
But instead of those toxic green tearing their way into her soul, she met blue.

A bright baby blue, soft and yet warm, already overflowing with matching tears dripping down the sharp outline of cheeks.

Bruce had come for her, and despite the utter terror lining every inch of his body, and the helplessness in his eyes. She knew it would be okay long before she woke up in her hospital bed.

The third, and the last time was the worst.

Barbara had just barely recovered enough to be able to go more than a week without wandering through those sterile halls. Visit after visit- to the point the staff knew her by name.

Her father was with her, and she was grateful for his presence but- it only helped so much. Every moment felt too much and not enough, as if her life was ticking away faster than she could keep up.

The closest thing to “grounding” she had was her family close by.

And the “gift” from Cardinal. The old monitor.

As if her recovery wasn't tumultuous enough- she remembered sitting at that dinner table. Her dad made chicken noodle soup, extra sliced carrots just for her.

The house phone rang, the old one he still insisted was “too reliable to bother replacing”. She had ignored it until she heard the sharp gasp as he received the news.

He didn't need to speak. She saw it in his eyes.

The Joker had escaped again.

Shutting down was just- too easy of an option to ignore.

Even when Jason came banging on her door, she turned him away.
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.
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Something she lived to regret when she was startled awake by a banging on her window no earlier than two in the morning just a few days later.

The helplessness of her own attack was nothing compared to what she felt, stuck in her chair, desperately trying to get Cardinal’s warning to Bruce.

Something had gone wrong with communications- the message they’d sent about Sheila Haywood had been sent a whole week ago, a system glitch. They hadn't realized the message wasn't received until Bruce and Jason were both long gone and resorted to handing it over directly.

Barbara didn't have time to grapple with Cardinal suddenly existing in the flesh. She half blurted out an explanation as she stole her dads keys, rushing to the tower and barely bothering to wait for the elevator as she began to try to reach Bruce. But the coms were down- she could only use the backup messaging system and pray it would reach.

If he were any other kind of man. A kind of man who would put off checking in every few hours, Bruce wouldn't have seen the message.

Bruce wouldn't have rushed disarming the weapons as much as he did.

He wouldn't have had enough gas to get as close to the warehouse as he did.

He wouldn't have thought ahead enough to call for backup.
And if it weren't for the big boy in blue, Bruce wouldn't have beaten the timer.

“The hell Barbie-?" Jason's voice snapped her back into focus. She met his eyes as he half waved his hand in front of her face, brows knit with concern though they were hard to see under the now wrinkled face mask. “You alright?"

Barbara swallowed the lump in her throat, it wasn't often she slipped into the past, even on the scheduled “Wounded Birds” bonding sessions.

“Sorry just- drifted off,” she hummed. “What do you need?"

Jason paused for a moment, though seeming self aware enough for her thought process, peeled off the mask and chunked it into the can nearby. Whatever he was going to say- he seemed to decide otherwise.

“I need your permission code to send the information to the CRT- The sooner we can send the data over the better odds they have to catch this... Catalyst”

Babs nodded, pulling her keyboard closer as she pulled up the file. It was annoyingly bare, rival to Cardinal themself, though considering the years it took to get that information- slightly less impressive.

“Catalyst” had appeared in Gotham just a few weeks prior, at least in the now recognizable dark blue and grey hooded attire, with just a few hints of yellow in the gloves and boots, and fitted with a full face gas mask.

Of course, what would seem to be a pretty unique set up, in a place like Gotham? Gas masks and well, masks in general were as common as wearing a hat.

Details were the only thing hinting to their status as more than a weirdly dressed civilian. And It was Jason who even bothered to take note of them in the first place.

The metal guards wrapped around their shins and secured in place with worn belting, the side pack adored with bright colorful vials of god knows what, or hey maybe it was the fact they carried around a fashioned chain whip occasionally swapped out with a dull metal hook on the end.

Not to mention you can't be within a mile of Gotham without being present in a fair share of disasters and incidents. But one person being present for over 300 recorded incidents in just two months?

That number only being the ones confirmed by just a glimpse or two from various surveillance, but they always seemed to slip by.

Always just out of reach.
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Jason was well beyond being “on the edge” at this point.

What was supposed to be a relaxing day with Barbie bonding over their shared amount of waning patience dealing with the rest of the bats’ BS, especially towards him, had quickly turned into something else when getting eyes on Catalyst.

At least- who he really hoped was Catalyst, because otherwise? Sending Cardinal on a wild goose chase would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Then again who knows if they even took the evidence seriously, a message back beyond a simple “received” was few and far between. But something about the silence now felt different, he could only hope the literal gigabyte of information they managed to pump through the monitor would be received.

Their words still rang in the back of his mind.

“I'll handle it.”

He really hoped they could.

Looking at Barbie as she seemed to space out once more. It was an off day for her, but then again it was nothing new.

Jason being there gave her the chance to relax without being pestered with a hundred “are you okay?"s. Because love his dad and siblings to death, but somehow Steph managed to have the most tact when it came to trauma shit.

Shaking the thought away, he stretched out his hands as they found their way back onto the keyboard in front of him.

He had already fully transferred the file over, including the data analysis, predictions of travel movements, possible eye witnesses both on and off scene, and even passwords to a few nearby networks.

Most of the information was no doubt something Cardinal would easily gather themselves, given the time of course. But right now if there really was a threat right under their noses- one that their only source was far from forthcoming about.

They had no choice but to give them the advantage of time on their side. And hope Cardinal knew what the hell they were doing and weren't getting in over their head facing this bastard.

Jason's hand hovered over the keys, just a click and all the information would be carded over. Nothing revolutionary, but in their line of work facing against otherworldly power, men playing god with scientific abominations, and magic beyond what they could comprehend.

Information was the only weapon they had.

Palm lifted, his pointer extended, he reached to press the enter key- hand over the torch so to speak. But- he paused. Feeling eyes on the back of his head.

Jason turned slowly and ignored the creaking from his chair as it shifted against the wooden floor, he faced Babs, meeting her gaze.

She said nothing. Honestly most times he would brush it off and simply mind his own damn business, but he couldn't. Something felt… off with her- even as they kept their eyes locked for more than a few beats, she continued to stay silent.

Well- he wasn't a damn mind reader, and he didn't want to push, not when it felt like traversing a mine field with no idea what kind of trap he'd walk into.

“Everything... okay?" Jason asked, one chance to voice herself before he laid it to rest. For now at least.

Babs looked a bit startled, blinking a few times as if she hadn't even registered he was looking at her until he addressed her. “Yeah yeah I'm… don't worry about it.”

Definitely an off day.

Hell if it wasn't the middle of the night he'd shoot a text to Steph for a coffee run- give her an excuse to flirt some more.

But- best to leave it alone for now. And with that, Jason spun his chair back around, uncrossing his arms and hitting the enter key before he could think to psych himself out otherwise. A beat passed, the files flashing on the screen once, twice, before vanishing with a small ding sound effect.

Off they go, the screen turning black just a moment after.

Now then- to get back into the proper mood for broken bird bonding.

Jason slid his chair over until it bumped into the side of hers. “Hey Barbie- you got any other stuff or just those masks?"

Babs gave a small snort, pushing her glasses further up her nose and leveled him a look “What am I? Cass? It's in the medicine cabinet, third shelf to the right- grab the clay mix.”

“Oh god- I swear no matter how many times Dick steals her 3 in 1, she finds it-” Jason laughed, quickly hopping up to his feet and walking over to the stand alone sink just outside the makeshift toilet area.

Unconventional for a bathroom, but hey, this was a literal clocktower. And Babs refused to let Bruce pay anyone to spruce it up anymore.

“You don't have to tell me- I've been begging her to get a proper hair care routine since Bruce fished her out of the sewers.”

“How is she by the way? I haven't called in a few days.”

“She's great! Last I saw she was hanging out with reindeer herders in Mongolia- showed me a newborn deer, birth juices and all.” Babs shuttered with a look of horror in her eyes.

Jason opened up the cabinet, pushing aside the dozen bottles of medication, half of which most certainly were not labeled, but hey nothing new.

On the third shelf the array of neon orange shifted into an array of clear and dark amber glass bottles. Further right were several containers, right besides a display of various animal themed face masks.

“Mongolia, huh? I thought she was in Thailand. And wasn't it Cass that fished him out of the sewers?" Jason asked, picking up the large white container and shutting the cabinet as he set it down on the sink. “Oh shit- what's the water ratio again?"

“Who fished who out doesn't matter- they both emerged from the sewers and decided to take over my shower instead of risk giving Alfred a heart attack,” Babs sighed, and he could hear the faint tapping of keys from behind.

“And she moves fast- said she already had plans to head towards Pakistan next.”

“Huh, I think I know a restaurant in Gotham, guess she can tell me how authentic they really are,” he joked. “Oh and- the water?"

“Ah yes- equal parts, but if you don't want to have to use the wet wipes add a little extra clay.”

Jason nodded, picking up a small bowl from the side of the sink and measuring out a bit of the clay powder, pouring in what he assumed was enough water. Mixing it together with the end of Dick’s spare toothbrush, of course.

Babs spared him a glance as he sat back down beside her, a small smile appearing as she noticed exactly what he was using. “Really? You know it's going to harden and he's going to notice right?"

“And? He's your ex. Why are you defending the man who broke your heart?” Jason asked with a raised brow, not even pausing in covering just about the entire handle in the clay sludge.

Babs rolled her eyes, “Correction, I broke his heart- he got a heartbreak mullet and everything.”

“So you cursed us with that disco nightmare existence?”

“And here I thought you supported women's rights and wrongs,” Babs shook her head, mockingly. “But half of that was also Bruce's fault.”

“Always fucking Bruce-” Jason laughed, glancing down at the bowl.

It was only like ten percent dry powder chunks, so that was basically good enough. He had enough tact to lay the clay-covered toothbrush against a napkin. Couldn't risk hurting Babs' good tables.

Jason set the mix aside and leaned back in his chair, or well as much as he could without the risk of tipping it over. “So what's our entertainment for the night?"

“Well… I have whispers that Scarecrow is planning to end his visit sometime soon so I've been keeping a side eye on Arkham. Bruce and Damian are patrolling together so better to leave them alone unless they need me. And as far as I'm aware the alley has been a good kind of quiet right?”

Other than the obvious yeah-
“Yup nothing there- so wildcard cold case maybe?"

Babs cracked her knuckles as she scooted her chair closer into place. “Domestic or international conspiracy?"

“Uhh… surprise me?”

A semi feral grin marked its way on her face as she practically hunched over the keyboard, fingers flying across every key faster than he could really tell what the hell she was typing.

It was a reminder just why “murder bird” Dicky was so taken by her, at least until they decided they were better off as friends. Hell, she even got them shitty matching “Exes are Bestes” t-shirts once, and he loved them.

Without even really meaning too, Jason's mind and eyes wandered towards one of the tall clock window walls that made up the room.

It towered high above into the rafters where he could see some pillows and blankets strewn about- a perfect roost so to speak, though much... homelier than his era here.

It was weird- spending so long just dropping in, only to be stuck in this place after what happened.

A part of him was happy when Bruce finally backed off enough to let him back in the scene, even if it was the behind the scenes.

Suddenly, there was a closeness he didn't quite care for. That understanding in Babs eyes everytime they watched Bruce and Steph leave through the escape hatches, up the rafters, just like he used to.

She understood- of course she did. She was the first bird to be ripped out of the sky against their will.

And there they were- two miserable assholes together in an old tower. Both desperately battling the two overlapping versions of themselves, but refusing to accept the others senseless coddling.

All because of him.

But hey- it wasn't all for nothing. He learned a lot from Barbie- and they got a hell of a lot closer than he bet they ever would’ve otherwise.

It was even more bittersweet when he returned. He was the “lucky one,” afterall. But she was the one who helped him come up with a new mask, one away from Robin and entirely his own.

Bluejay, a symbol of perseverance. Proof that he lived.

Everyone was happy when he finally entered the streets, but it was Babs who stayed with him the whole night. Reassuring words echoing in his ear every moment he felt it was too much.

And with his wings returned to him, the uncanny sensation of feeling like he was walking into a bird cage every time he entered the place had long faded away.

It became another home away from home. And it was.. nice having someone he could go to when the laughter got too loud, or even just to have a stupid self care night every other week for the hell of it.

Because no one else really understood.

Or well…

Jason paused as he looked away from the towering windows of frosted orange glass and his gaze fell to the other side of the wall of screens. To the one panel that wasn't filled, but instead sat a lone monitor.

What could drive someone to become a hero? A villain? It was something he'd wondered a lot back before he knew what a tea kettle was. And over the years he'd gotten a hundred different answers.

But every single one was defined by a sense of loss, of friends, family, purpose, innocence, you name it.

You get pushed far enough after losing a piece of yourself and you end up in spandex tights. It was a whole phenomenon at this point.

“OH FUCK-,” Jason shouted, jerking away and cupping his hand on his cheek. Or well- just above, his wrist held tightly in Babs hand. On her other hand was a glob of the cold clay mix she'd decided to smear on his cheek.

“What the hell Barbie!?” He whined. “That's cold.”

Babs lifted a brow, already moving back in to smear more onto his face. “You were the one who decided you were too impatient for the water to heat up.”

Jason huffed, but did her the favor of leaning forward just slightly enough she wasn't having to reach as much. It was cold, but after the initial shock the cooling felt nice.

Only a minute passed and his entire face was caked in the mixture, Babs’ own seemingly already covered. Her bangs were held back by a soft green headband that had strands of red shooting all over the place from how carelessly she’d pushed it back.

He reached to touch his cheek, but his hand was quickly, albeit gently, smacked away as she set the mix aside.

“Now we wait for it to harden before washing it off,” she said, picking up two cans of soft drinks and handing one to Jason. “Oh, by the way, we shall be looking into none other than... William Pokhlyobkin!"

Jason sported a half grin, cracking open his drink and listening to the sizzle sound out. “Oh fuck yeah- I gotta know who deprived the world of Cuisine of the Century!”

Babs grinned, already beginning to pull up some files she most definitely shouldn't have access too within the Russian archives.

Jason lifted his drink to his lips, the carbonation dancing across his skin. But as she typed away, his mind once again wandered as he spared one last glance at the monitor.

For just a moment.. he wondered about Cardinal. One of the few so close to home, yet whose origin was a mystery. A mystery they couldn't solve over some face masks and a couple Dr. Pepper cans.

What did you lose?

He asked, but there was no one to ask. Instead he just hoped that Catalyst wouldn't just be the first step to building a deeper trust, but in them getting the justice they deserved.

Jason took another sip, turning back to the screen as Babs pulled up a 3-D model of Pokhlyobkin’s apartment, already beginning to digitally “recreate” the crime scene.

He tried to ignore the gnawing pit in his chest at the thought. At least someone deserved to get justice, even if Jason knew he never would.
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The clown lives on, after all.
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The small sound was quickly muffled as a gloved hand wrapped around the communicator. Slowly, fingers stretched around the ends and lifted it out from the pocket it was buried deep within.

A message displayed clearly on the screen. New spotting, just down on Lincoln. Which meant they were in inner Gotham, and recently.

“Hey doll- what's caught your eye?" a nasally voice called out.

The man was dressed to the nines, if the nines included his bright orange and black biker-esque jacket with several chains layered across his blonde haired chest, which for some reason he insisted on keeping open despite the close to frigid temperature.

Shaggy blonde spikes fell over his face that was otherwise colored in an array of blues and reds by the club lighting. A grin stretched his cheeks bringing more attention to the thick goatee that lined his chin.

He was stretched back against the deep emerald green upholstery, fastened together by the double diamond gold thread stitched pattern that stretched high over the ends and disappeared among the array of wallpaper and curtains that made up their private booth.

A gorgeous seat, overlooking the lower level of the lounge. The VIP section, of course. The chill in the air was tolerable for the sake of the multiple elaborate swan ice sculptures in just about every direction- and ice buckets of “complementary” champagne.

Chunks of ice that seemed to sparkle like jewels matched the ones on display down on the main theater stage, the heart of the entire place. The whole “gimmick” was the giant iceberg, a so-called taste of the antarctic- though this time without the animals on display.

However, it was mostly obscured behind panels of frosted glass and giant towering blue and jewel encrusted curtains that flowed down onto the stage, circling around the floor and drawing many eyes to the one soft yellow spotlight.

Illuminated and at center stage stood a woman in her tailored purple suit, braids falling down her back as her arms lifted a shiny gold trumpet to her lips. She played in a way that slipped right into the atmosphere.

A one man band, seeming to savor every moment as the crowd began to file in. The rest of the band were likely hidden behind those jewel decorated displays, finishing setting up as the night was really starting to begin.

Soon the place would be full, the lights would dim, and the alcohol and secrets would flow like water. Jack would have called it a “sinner’s paradise” with a lopsided grin, and earned a playful slap on the shoulder from Janet- not that she would disagree.

But that was then. Now? Well, who was she to deny an early taste?

Caroline smiled as she slipped the communicator back into her pocket. A hand carding through the layers of dirty blonde hair that fell over her dark brown almost black eyes.

“Just a friend asking about drinks- but I told her I have more important company to tend to,” she assured, hand trailing along the folds of her leather jacket as she hid the communicator deeper inside.

The man, Garfield Lynns, seemed to accept the answer with a laugh, puffing out his chest with pride as his hand slipped over the dark oak table that separated them. His fingers wrapped around his seventh drink tonight at the Iceberg Lounge.

His face was already tinted a soft pink as he continued to ramble on about nothing of substance. There was only one thing she, or well he needed from this man.

In a past life Garfield aka Firefly was a man for hire, usually a saboteur or thief. Really he did just about any job that let him fire up the jetpack and flamethrowers.

Now, though? He was instead a known connector in Gotham, especially to the less than savory crowd. Mr. Lynns served as a “middle man” to communicate in and out of Arkham just outside the security cameras and guards’ not too watchful gaze.

But instead of just another partner for hire, he served as the reason Rogues who managed to get out always had a place to go, a plan already half in motion, and were supplied to the nines.

A nuisance, but much less than his pyromaniac counterpart in another life. The man was still suspected of a few arson charges and Tim swore he had that damned bug suit stashed somewhere, but at least this time around, he was somewhat more tolerable, if just as vain.

In the end, he's still just a man. But a man Tim had very strong reason to believe was the supposed “friend” who had connected Riddler to Catalyst in the first place.

He'd prefer not tangling with such a close primary source, just in case Catalyst got wind before he could scrape a step ahead. But as annoying as it was, even after a week of running himself ragged working all his other ins, most came up on dead ends.

The data from Bluejay and Oracle was useful- but never enough beyond patterns related to Catalyst. Fortunately it was helpful in another way- the patterns had given much more information then he had before. A small glimpse into who was behind the mask, though the closer he looked, the more questions arose.

Some things were surprising. Like the fact Catalyst was… sloppy, unpracticed really- at least for in-the-field work. They seemed to fall far behind most foes he was used to.

But when it came to moving through the city, undetected at that- they were a master.Even without the camera blocking technology like Cardinal utilized, they still managed to stay almost completely behind the scenes.

That brought along the most confusing aspect of Catalyst- they never hurt civilians. Hell- eighty seven point thirty nine percent of their “appearances” were rescues.

Knowing the streets could hint to a Gotham native, or someone who had been in the city for a long long time. The idea of them lurking around every corner for the past few years was one truth he didn't want to confront just yet.

Did they feel connected to the civilians? Neighbors, friends, people they didn't want to be hurt- a noble cause from someone who seemed anything but.

Even then- why target The Drakes? Was it a remark on class? Then why had none of Gothams other elite fallen victim?

Was it really just personal? Then why come back after so long and target Cardinal through Wisp. Did they recognize that the Drake’s spoiled brat was nothing more than a mask? Or had they switched targets to Cardinal and found out by sheer coincidence.

Did they even know at all? Or was it just a matter of time before they would find out?
Motivation was the key and it was exactly what he was lacking.

Caroline brought the glass up to her lips, careful not to smudge deep red lipstick as she took a sip. Sparkling water of course. She may not listen to Bruce about drinking underage, but missions were an exception for sure.

“So- you were telling me about your latest in, with the Riddler no less? He's always been one of my favorites,” Caroline rasped, batting her eyelashes a bit and ignoring the unsettling sensation of the glue from her falsies coming unstuck as she blinked.

Garfield, or well- Firefly, sounded better. The man grinned, his pearly whites and small silver smiley on full display as he seemed to peacock. “Ah yeah- Riddler, a smart guy, that one, even when he doesn’t know what’s best for him. I swear that guy is gullible as hell, fucker even got himself caught in his own literal honey trap before.”

“And you know how long it took me to find a honey dealer willing to ship out tons to Gotham? It was a fucking mess- but worth it seeing a few angry slick birds.”

Tim nodded, well aware of the irony luring him into his own “Honey Trap”, but he stayed silent. No better way to get a man talking then to simply sit there and look interested, no banter needed outside the occasional prompting and faux gasp of awe.

“Riddler is a quack for sure, but a fun one to work with when you can actually comprehend half the shit coming out of his mouth- not that I imagine your pretty little head would have much trouble,” Firefly bantered with a small smirk.

Caroline snickered before quickly motioning for him to continue as she picked up her drink, holding it just an inch away from her lips.

“Of course I'm always more than happy to help out a friend, if the price is right- and Riddler is a stand up guy enough to never short on money,” he sighed, polishing off his drink and setting the glass down with a sharp thud.

“Guy’s never in it for cash- just for his next big brain teaser, which while I can't wrap my head around, gotta respect.”

Caroline sat up in her seat, ignoring the small squeak of the wooden chair as she leaned forward, quickly setting her drink aside propping her elbow against the table. “How kind of you- was it at least any fun?"

Firefly looked away, his hand slipping up to a small button on the edge of their booth and pressing it down, it began to blink a soft red but made no sound.

“So so- wasn't a direct involvement, just a connection opportunity for another guy who seemed interested in the gig- paired ’em up, took my check and wiped my hands clean.”

“Wiped clean hm? Charges and all?”

“What charges? Can’t stick what does not exist,” he replied. “Of course I'll probably call him up soon from the big house, just to check in.”

“Like the good friend you are, of course.”

Firefly chuckled, his head half lolling back as footsteps approached their booth. A gloved hand slipped inside and pressed off the call button as the waiter smiled down at them both.

Caroline just smiled back as the bartender's silver penguin cufflinks shone as she placed down the drink, offering a small smile and then disappearing back into the crowd.

Her eyes trailed as she watched the woman pass by the lower level of the bar, the stage that radiated soft jazz tunes as their star singer took five.

The dark velvet banners contrasted with the icy white flooring and pillars. The center split into threes divided by a small display pillar, each adored with a small cage covered in a silk wrap and a bright glittering sapphire on top.

No detective skills were needed to deduce what Penguin had under there.

Whatever “fortune” he managed to scour up from his schemes only served to feed his obsession of restoring the Cobblepot name to glory. For him, what was more glorious than rare expensive birds you could afford to cage by the dozen? Tim knew gauche, but Penguin was a whole other breed.

He doubted they were local, Penguin had learned his lesson considering how many of his little pets had joined his flock. Which meant they'd need to get back in with a few old contacts. God... just a mess.

Blackmarket anything found a prime audience in Gotham- the smuggled bird market was no exception to Penguin’s taste. Something that would need to be dealt with.

But he wasn't Cardinal right now, hell he wasn't even Timothy and he needed to focus unless he wanted to scare off his only informant before it dried up.

“-f works for you?"

Tim blinked, and Caroline spoke with a ditzy laugh. “Sorry, I spaced out- the decor is just so pretty I couldn't help but admire it.”

The lie slipped off easy enough. Aided by the flush of Firefly’s cheeks, he seemed to accept the excuse without a single wonder.

“No worries doll- I was just saying I know why you’re here.”

“Oh? And what's that?"

For a moment, the lights in the bar seemed to dim just slightly, at least enough that the shine in his eyes all but vanished for a moment.
Something changed- and it set him on edge.

“C'mon doll- this is Gotham, and I aint a fucking amateur but I’ll admit you’re not half bad.” Firefly tilted his head with a sigh, lifting his drink up and spinning it in the glass.

Hard enough the liquid swirled to the edge but never spilled over, not even a single drop. “For your information... ya aint my type.”

Caroline paused, drink clutched in her hands as she dared to meet his gaze. “Am I not?"

“Nah- I prefer a woman who'd just kill me, emphasis on the woman.”

“Is…” She swallowed hard, “That so?"

Oh- oh fuck- oh fuck did he know? But that didn't make sense, even without the dress he's been mistaken for a girl plenty of times before. Was his wig cap showing? Just meant he wasnt a natural blonde, but even then thats still pretty fucking rude to point out.

Firefly chuckled, a free sound that definitely confirmed he was wasted, so at least that part of his plan had worked out.

Regardless, Tim’s panic must have been blatant on his face, but how the fuck were you meant to hide when being called out like THAT. Even with his panic, he could still save this right?

Actually- fuck any part of the plan. Tim was already identifying the 37 reasonable exits he knew by heart- and another thirteen he could make work on the fly.

But before he could get his press ons to corporate enough fully around the hook of his smoke bomb- Garfeild continued.

“No offense doll- but you seem a few years too young to be my type, and more like a young woman ready to rob me blind- but like I said with Riddles, I can respect it-”

Okay they were dropping “the act” though it was a news flash to Tim that Garfield was even acting. He knew he wasn't an idiot- but this was new.

Tim’s hand slowly left his pocket as he met the man’s gaze. “You said Riddler was never in it for the money-”

Has he really been that rusty? Caroline was gone- but hell Tim could keep up some sort of act long enough to keep the man talking- it would be good enough, it had to be.

“Then why indulge me?"

“Because business is business doll- another reason I gotta decline. Anyways, I can't quite say what you’re after but I assume it's something I can provide.” Firefly set his drink down, sitting back in his chair and stroking the goatee that adored his pointed chin.

“So tell me. What connection can I provide?"

Tim leaned forward, setting his drink in line with the one already on the table. Both half finished. And despite Tim being basically sober, he still had the feeling that he was no longer in control of this conversation.

He just hoped whatever direction it did go didn't end up in him needing to rely on escape plan number 23. Flamethrower in an ice lounge was never really a good combo.

Looking around the room, his gaze went to the stage as a burlesque singer, adorned in strings of pearls and the finest of faux furs and feathers, waltzed back onto stage. Her emerald green eyes greeted the crowd with a catlike grin.

Two long white gloves slipped out from the coat and wrapped around the mic. A small beat passed as the club fell into silence, a beat quickly broken by the sound of a soft horn starting up again.

The woman began to sing a velvety tune, every word seeming to entrance and just a glance he could tell everyone's eyes were on the stage.

But when he turned back, Firefly only spared the stage a glance, seeming far more interested in the puzzle before him. No wonder he and Riddler got along. Seemed the situation had changed- but maybe in just the right way.

Tim picked up his glass again, lifting it to his lips and pausing right as it obscured his speech from any wandering eyes. “Is the name… Catalyst familiar?"

Firefly’s face split into a grin, his head leaning forward in interest like a cat eagerly locking onto its prey “Who's asking?"

“Someone who can afford the right price and is looking for a connection.”

“Ha… guess that explains it, then- can’t be after money if it's what you already have.”

“I guess not,” Tim chirped back.

He could feel it in the air, that this was the moment to decide it all. This was a rogues bar, after all, and he was willing to bet Garfield had a relationship with about half the clientele.

A hoard of goons would be nothing he couldn't handle, but he was in heels and would rather not have Caroline “die” as a useful identity. She just renewed her library card.

“Well I guess that settles it then-” Firefly mumbled, reaching behind him.

Tim tensed, well aware of the panic buttons hidden all throughout the lounge- one press would have the whole joint buzzing about a possible cop or bat infestation.

But he didn't reach for the button, instead he reached up to the small ribbon holding the curtain close and slipped it loose, letting the curtain fall shut on his side.

Tim didn't hesitate to do the same, both drawing shut and enveloping the booth in a cocoon of velvet, the only light being from the soft warmth of the crystal chandelier above.

“A little privacy of course-” Firefly smirked as he slipped his hand into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small disk, similar to those restaurant buzzers.

The disk, placed in the center of the table, laid there for a moment. A moment long enough Tim glanced up to try and gauge if he was being played.

click-

A small sound came out and he watched as the disk unfolded itself, growing and filling half the table to the point it looked dangerously close to bumping their drinks off onto the wooden floors below.

But it stopped, a small puff of steam escaping as it looked to breathe and settled into place, only a soft orangish glow now emitting between each of the lined parts.

“Cool, huh?" Firefly grinned as he reached out, dragging his fingers across one of the many indentations across the metal. It popped up and a small screen came to life.

“This is...” Tim paused, identifying half the pieces from just a glance- expensive pieces. “More than I expected from you.”

“Sleek has its charms, but I prefer a little more flair, ya dig? Now then- let's get down to business shall we?"

“Of course- and don't worry about my means, all that matters is what you can provide,” Tim reassured. He may be ‘in’ but negotiations were half the fun.

“That depends,” Firefly hummed, “how much are you offering?"

Well- he could afford just about any price, but it needed to be reasonable enough that he wouldn't need to dip into Drake Industries or “Timothy's” main accounts, unless he wanted to purchase yet another cover up yacht. Thankfully that one was solved by a quick “gambling gone wrong” with Arison, but that was besides the point.

“Tick tock doll- my night is reserved for you, but time is never guaranteed around here.”

That much he had right- especially with a soon to be clash of cat and mouse- or, well, bird- which would be a sure fire shot into the bats nest.

“You get me a meeting spot with Catalyst, day after tomorrow- and I can do five thousand wired to you,” Tim demanded, lowering his voice to the point he needed to lean in. “Two and a half now, two and a half post meeting”

“Five is nice, real nice, but setting up a spot on such short notice?" He hissed, “And I'm a businessman, I try to ensure my clients don't get arrested while I'm still within a half mile- I’d need to ensure bat free, and that's at least another k…”

Firefly looked up as if running the numbers in his mind before smiling back at Tim. “How about eight, eh?"

More than within budget- but if he agreed too fast then he'd pull some other “hidden fee” out from his ass.

“Eight? Can you even guarantee that he’ll be there?"

Firefly laughed, reaching for his drink and swirling his finger around the rim. “Well that’s why it’s only in the tens range- it's simply a connection opportunity, not a marriage contract I’m offering.”

“You aren't offering a contract at all, simply word of mouth and a pinky promise. Anything above five is robbery.”

“C’mon, I need a bus fare, don't I?" Firefly bit back. His shoulders were lax but there was a tenseness in his gaze.

Well, might as well take the shot. “Seven and a half, four in cash right now- is that enough?"

Firefly paused for a moment, and it wasn't hard to notice the way his eyes trailed over to the purse Tim had sat on the seat beside him. “Sure you got four in cash?"

Tim leaned forward, placing himself in the line of sight from the bag and met his gaze. “Depends- have we got a deal?"

Firefly maintained his gaze, tilting his head to the side, and he could see in his eyes the hundreds of scenarios, win and loss, passing by in just a moment. Well, whatever credit he'd denied this guy, even half wasted he was a comfortable player in this kind of game.

“Tick tock Mr. Lynns. My time isn't any less precious, I promise you that.” Tim smirked and watched as his eyes widened significantly.

“Why… I don't think I told you my name, doll?" Firefly stuttered, his voice now coming off a bit shrill. Garfield Lynns was a player, but Tim was the master of this game.

“Is that relevant?"

“Depends… is my information at risk here?"

“Of course not- we’re both people of business, aren't we?" Tim smiled, fluttering his eyelashes again.

Firefly opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut as the disk in the center began to blink. It flashed several times in different hues of orange and yellow in tandem. Looked like time was up.

Holding his hand out, Tim didn't hesitate to shake it, quickly grabbing his purse with the other hand and slipping out the several wads of cash onto the table.

Firefly let out a low whistle, quickly snatching up the wads and shoving them into the center of the disk and pressing a small button.

The device once again began to fold over itself, but now the shiny metal began to fold out into what looked to be a dark red fabric of sorts.

It was a bit fun to watch as the metal sheets fashioned themselves in the form of a pretty sizable duffle bag, one that was quickly scooped up by Firefly as he stood up from the booth and positioned himself by the curtain doorway.

“I'll send you the details over a private network later- whatever you send the wire through-” A small crash echoed from on the other side of the curtain as he turned to Tim. “Need an escort out?"

“I'm afraid I'm all out of cash- but I’ll be fine, just do me a favor yeah?" Tim smiled, “Don’t get arrested before our deal is done hmm?"

That earned a sharp cackling laugh from Garfeild who somehow managed a slight bow in the enclosed space, and within the moment, he had slipped past the curtains and vanished from sight.

Tim sighed, feeling the last bit of tension leak from his shoulders. Well that could’ve been worse? He only had to hope that all his intel of Garfield having pride enough not to scam anyone would pay out.

Reaching into his purse, Tim pulled out a small black gas mask, beginning to fasten it to his face while reaching down to click a small switch on his heels. It was a bit of a balancing act as the heel began to collapse in on itself and warp into a more convenient flat.

Only once he was surebat.

Now how could a girl ask for any better a distraction?
________________________________

Nature was a cacophony that somehow made a melody. It was a marvel how even the most ear-grating sounds served a place in the greater symphony.

At least that's what Mother had taught him when Damian had complained about the parrots squawking driving him crazy. That they were creatures who deserved a voice, more so than most humans.

Now he recognized her - as well as grandfather's - beliefs on the superiority of nature to humanity were a bit “cultish” (as Richard had put it). But he did still hold many of the beliefs instilled upon him.

“HOW DARE YOU UNFEATHERED FIENDS FLOUNCE YOUR WAY INTO MY ESTABLISHMENT!?" Penguin squawked, waving around his umbrella like a mad man on top of the stage as his furious gaze scanned the crowd.

A squawk can be a beautiful sound, but coming from a man who is an insult to his namesake, it made Damian wish Father approved of bodily mutilation short of killing so he could rip out the man's vocal cords.

Batman held his gaze with the man, lenses narrowing as he yapped on. “Penguin. I must insist that you close up early for the night.”

He turned to the crowd of still bumbling patrons. “Unless you all would like to witness half of Gotham PD storm the place looking for black market goods?"

That was enough to kick some people into gear, half already beginning to squeeze their ways through the grand double doors that looked remarkably quaint with a dozen patrons attempting to squeeze through at once.

“Robin, make sure the patrons get out alright. Our only interest is here,” Batman ordered, pulling out a fan of batarangs and freezing Penguin in his tracks.

The man had finally ceased in his squawking, probably realizing just what a position he was in. Good- it meant that perhaps he would be home at a reasonable hour, reasonable for a vigilante lifestyle at the least.

“As you wish,” Robin responded, quickly firing his grappling hook up to the higher levels and taking flight over the crowd.

It was laughable how little time it took from there, a simple swing and wrap-around technique from Father, and Penguin lay wiggling on the stage like a fish out of water and yelling all the more.

Robin stayed perched just inside the doorway, eyes still scanning the now empty room. He could see the remains of a few dinners left behind, even what looked to be a half eaten creme brulee. A pity.

He glanced over to Father, a quick once over to confirm the situation was handled and that he hadn't gone and injured himself against Penguin of all people.

With that, he pushed himself off the wall, dodging past a few upturned tables and a swan ice sculpture with its head lay melting on the floor below.

Robin stepped past it, keeping his own target in mind as he approached the main floor. It was… pretty. But nothing when compared to the grand opera houses that resided within Grandfather’s more favored bases.

Stepping onto the stage, he spared a glance at the three pillars, each adored with a covered cage. His face pulled into a sneer- but that could be dealt with as soon as he confirmed the main point of their arrival.

No need to harass the poor victims until he was sure they could be removed safely.

Gloved hand slipped under his cape and he pulled out a small vial, filled almost to the top with a shimmering blue liquid. It didn't take much force to pop open the stopper as he approached one of the jewel encrusted stage curtains.

Ever so carefully, he tipped the vial and watched as the liquid poured over the fabric, making it turn a slightly darker shade of blue.

Robin held up the end of the curtain as he slipped the now empty vial back into place, his hand instead tucking into the side of his utility belt.

He was quick to whip out a small robin shaped keychain, whose unfortunate design by Bluejay had remained unchanged long before his time.

With a soft click, the robin's beak opened and a blue light shone down on the fabric. Each of the jewels lit up as if emitting light themselves.

“Tt.” Robin clicked his tongue as he lifted his finger from the light and turned back to face the rest of the lounge.

Batman stood at the doorway alongside two GCPD officers. They seemed to exchange basic pleasantries as Penguin was handed over to one of them. The man wrangled him, quickly stepping away, letting the door shut and leaving the vigilantes alone.

“Father,” Damian called out, watching the shadowy figure of his father’s silhouette turn just enough to know he was being looked at.

He said nothing in turn, simply flipping back on the light and showing off the almost neon glow of the “gems”.

A gust of air blew, rustling his cape as Batman landed on the stage beside him, looking down at the evidence with an impartial glare. Then, a gloved hand reached over to the top of Robin's spiked hair and ruffled it slightly.

Damian scowled, fighting his instinct to lean into the touch while also being a bit annoyed at the blatant display while they were meant to be professional.

“Well, I've kept you in the dark on this mission. What have you concluded from the evidence?" Father asked, as if this was a simple school lesson.

But ever one to indulge him, Damian let go of the curtain and stepped back.
“Penguin needed a new get rich quick scheme, and since he's already the prime suspect in any Gotham based robberies, he opted for a new path. So instead, he chose to monopolize a more luxury branding of methamphetamine products.”

Damian gestured to the empty dining hall, now vacant of what was before dozens of wealthy patrons. “You can order a glass of top shelf Italian wine right alongside a bag of crystals - and to a crowd unfamiliar with drug trade it would be easy for him to jack up the prices in the sense of faux luxury compared to what's out on the streets - and yet still just as damming a fate.”

Father hummed, but made no move to respond, so he continued.

“Of course, having such a ploy would require available supply to match demand. And with how many eyes are on him, the buffon had a smart idea for once and instead opted to decorate his entire establishment in his product, as a means of hiding in plain sight.”

Damian dusted off his gloves in half disgust. While smart against police, it still felt overcomplicatingly foolish. Something straight out of one of Jason's Sherlock novels.

“Very good Robin,” he praised, making Damian preen... just slightly. “And what piece are we missing?"

Damian paused, meeting the cowl's gaze. What was he missing? It wasn't like Father expected specific names- otherwise he would be given more of the files. What had he failed to mention?

“I know you glanced at the cages, but I also know your concern for exposing the birds to any toxic chemicals distracted you from looking closer.”

The cages- he turned and stared at each one. He'd noticed their orientation, even down to the most definitely not jewel encrusted fabric on top…

On top there were three identical gaping holes where something was missing.

“I- but how- I kept my eyes on all of the exits,” he insisted, fist clutching at the edge of his cape. “I would have noticed any fool snatching three giant crystals!"

Father held out his hand, placating. Damian took just a moment of pause, for an explanation.

“I know you would've,” Father replied with a small smile. It wasn't the kind of smile he had when he deemed Damian ‘irrationally upset’ - no, he was being truthful.

“Then ho-” Damian cut himself off, more out of instinct than any true knowing but his senses tuned into focus all at once.

A small click sounded off, but it wasn't the click of a gun safety or even a lighter. It was familiar. A heel- not unlike Mother’s, but lacking the small metallic ting from her hidden blades.

“Aww- I was having fun, but I hate to see a little kitten with his fur all puffed up,” a voice called from behind the curtains. The second culprit was still within the lounge, and had slipped right under his nose.

Damian reached for his sword, but paused when he saw Father made no similar movement, instead taking a step forward towards the alarmingly familiar voice.

In his mind, he knew, but the rational part of his brain still refused to accept what he simply did not want to.

Out from behind the curtains first came a heeled foot, and another, until the entire figure was pulled from the shadows. She stood with her faux feather boa loosely over her shoulders and giant sapphire earrings shaking as she stepped.

Oh… Selina.

________________________________

Bruce watched as Damian, almost disappointingly, re-sheathed his sword as soon as Selina’s cheshire grin was bathed in the stage lighting.

She looked radiant, adorned in silk and pearls, feathers and fur. Her edges were gelled down and framed her face with each twenties style curl, and dark green eyes filled with mischief from the moment she laid eyes on him.

Selina smiled, a hand carding across the feather boa. “Your father is right, little Robin- you would notice any fool. Thankfully, I am no fool.”

Damian visibly relaxed, though he still held a half hearted glare from his mask. He hadn't completely relaxed, but it was a vast improvement.

Selina still had the small scar on her shoulder from when they first met, though that was before she introduced her colony of adopted and foster kittens.

“Ma’am- this is an active crime scene, I must insist you follow the rest of the patrons and leave the premises immediately,” Batman warned, but with a bit too much Bruce still present.

Selina stalked forward, lifting her boa up and curling around just one of her arms. “Oh don't be a dummy, I took care of the security beforehand.”

Bruce let out a small huff of a laugh, or well- the closest to a laugh he'd allow in the mask. “Then I take it my theory was right?"

Without dignifying him with a response, her hand ran along the edge of her coat, and as if magic she held out three giant glittering gemstones in her paw.

“Hate to part with such pretty things, but I'm after real treasures- not some chemical waste,” she sighed, quick to drop the jewels in the small evidence bag Bruce had produced from his own coat.

“Well we appreciate your cooperation to the investigation- and as such will not be pursuing any further charges,” Batman droned, quickly sealing the bag and setting it aside to be handed over later.

“Oh lucky me~”

Even from under the mask he could see how Damian rolled his eyes. Selina seemed to catch on as well and turned just slightly to face him.

“Alright alright- I'll stand down little bird, no fun flirting with a kid around,” she droned, shooting a quick wink to Bruce before side stepping towards the cages.

“Now then- would you like to see what exactly we have on our hands?"

Damian perked up just slightly at the remention of the birds, he was quick to join Selina standing in front of the covered cages. “Are we sure they won't be disturbed?"

“Well- my conservation expertise is more the feline kind, but sometimes a disturbance is necessary,” she assured, giving him space as he stood beside her. “Such as when we need to figure out what exactly we have here, as the first step of sending them where they need to go.”

Damian nodded at her logic, and without further hesitation reached his hand up and ever so slowly lifted the fabric from the first cage whilst Selina did the same for the middle.

The two cages now uncovered, their unwilling captives were on full display. For better or worse. Looking at the birds, they were frankly… well, Bruce had no clue what they were.

One looked like just what you'd expect from an “exotic” bird. Its white body with angled black markings, the two pointed feathers atop its head, the metallic blue chest, and the almost oily rainbow wings were stunning.

The other one? Oh gods the other one.

It looked like something reminiscent of a warped children’s drawing. The moment the cloth was taken off revealed an inflated brown and black blobby mass perched in the middle.

Its jaundiced yellow googly eyes stared directly into his soul, or at least they would, if they were looking in the same direction.

“Is it… diseased…?" Bruce asked in genuine concern. Only feeling guilty when Damian whipped his head to glare at his father.

Selina held a hand out and put on her best showman smile. “Well they’re…I bet they have a great personality.”

Damian sighed but made no argument as he pointed towards the deformed mass. “The one on the left looks to be a Potoo, an uncommonly seen nocturnal bird from South America-” he turned to point at the first cage “-and the other a Lapwing, they are found just about everywhere near water but North America.”

“Know your birds then, kitten?"

“It's not like it's hard,” Damian huffed, as if it were common sense.

“Since when are you well educated in bird species?" Bruce asked, managing to tear his eyes away from the cages.

Damian puffed up, his cape falling further over his shoulders though his eyes didn't stray from the birds. “It's been a… recent development. A… friend… gave me a very fascinating book on the subject.”

Selina shot Bruce a look as if he wasn’t already going to be on the lookout for sudden charges of birdseed to his accounts. But, then again, they had managed to sneak an entire barn construction and cow on the grounds without him knowing.

He just hoped Damian would pick something less… disturbing. Like a parakeet, maybe, or- had Babs mentioned pigeons? Bruce accidentally caught the bird's gaze as it seemed to hiss, its non-existent jaw basically unhinging to show nothing more than a blanket of fleshy mouth.

God, he hoped for a parakeet.

“And the Potoo is a fascinating bird- just watch,” Damian cited before stepping up onto one of the stage decorations. The small ledge made him just a few inches taller than where the cage sat.

He carefully took one of the cloths and dangled it over the cage, effectively blocking all the light from the bird.

Whatever Bruce expected to happen, came nothing close to watching the comical yellow eyes suddenly warp into black pits that somehow made him miss the jaundice stare.

“Ah!” Selina yelped, her voice raising several octaves. “That's… why?"

Damian, ever bothered with others' discomfort, continued to look down at the bird with a terrifying wonder in his own gaze. “They can control their pupils, and as nocturnal birds, adapted to be able to expand to extreme sizes to better suit their lifestyle. A very useful adaptation- don't you wish you could do the same, father?"

Bruce was once again, at a loss for words towards his youngest. “Just… please put the cloth over the cage, I can't imagine the club lighting is all too pleasing.”

Bringing up the wellbeing of the bird seemed to be enough for Damian to drop the cloth, sparing them of its existence.

Selina, however, seemed to latch onto this new tidbit of information “Do you know anything else about them?"

Damian took a moment, seeming to debate if he would respond to her or not. But it seemed his desire to share his current fixation outweighed his pride in silence.
“Well.. the Potoo has a lot of cultural and mythological symbolism, but I was informed they symbolize longing.”

Bruce couldn't help but catch Selina’s eyes, turning away to stare down at the evidence bag he had set on the table, picking it up to reexamine of course.

“That's lovely- and anything for the Lapwing?"

Damian's expression stuttered for a moment as he gazed at the cage, the stunning bird inside seeming content in preening at its oil colored feathers. “It symbolizes deceit.”

“That’s um…” Selina paused, justifiably unsure on how to respond. “Thankfully I don’t suppose we will be tricked by a pretty bird anytime soon”

“No. I suppose not.”

Selina took a step back as Damian got a closer look at the lapwing, but paused mid step in a way that caught Bruce’s eye. “Wait- there's still another one.”

And sure enough, on the other side of the Lapwing - closest to Bruce - was the third and last uncovered cage of the trio. He had been so in shock by the Potoo he’d completely forgotten the other cage present.

The trio fell into silence for just a moment, and then another, and the silence continued to stretch as the three looked at eachother.

“Someone should uncover it,” Damian said, breaking the last semblance of tranquility in the moment.

“Yes, someone should.” Selina was quick to chime in her support.

Of course, when he noted neither of them made any move towards the third cage, Bruce took in a deep breath through his nose, accepting his fate. It was just a step away, but god it was already fifty percent odds of it being a normal bird and fifty percent odds of it being… not a normal bird.

He hoped it was a bat, as he wrapped his hand around the edge of the cloth. Pausing only a moment to wonder if faking a heart attack would be too dramatic. For any of his other kids sure, he could try it, but Damian would likely try to restart his heart.

The cloth slipped off as the rest of the golden metal wire was exposed to the light surrounding them. Selina and Damian both peering around him to get a look at-

“It's.. empty?" Selina questioned aloud, heels clicking on the wood as she examined the cage.

Bruce managed not to startle when a moment later Damian appeared at his other side, pulling open the small door. It had already been unlatched.

“It escaped then.”

“Not to worry kitten, this place barely has a vent let alone a window over four feet high. I'm sure whatever little feathered friend was in here won't be far and can be left up to wildlife services to retrieve.”

Damian didn't look pleased with that option but it was getting late, or well- early. And the sooner they could do their final sweep and check in to the clocktower, sooner he could rest for the night.

“Selina is right, Damian. Now then, let's finish our discussion with Gotham's finest and make sure all birds end up in their rightful place.” That being shipped back home, jail, or tucked in bed on a school night respectively.

“I can deal with the wildlife contacts, my ride is sure to be delayed,” Selina commented, as if Bruce wasn't well aware she couldn't practically sneak out when the entire lounge was already surrounded by police.

For a moment, he remembered the last conversation he had with Dick and against his better judgement, he paused in following Damian to the exit.

“It was good seeing you,” he admitted earnestly.

Selina paused, looking ashamedly surprised at his comment. But her eyes shine matched the diamonds that adorned her. “Likewise. You'll have to let me know when you and the boys wish to reschedule our monthly meet.”

Bruce nodded, yet another thing on his seemingly never ending to do list. But he was the one who cancelled for business in space he was well aware Clark could have handled on his own.

“I'll get to it,” he promised.

He could feel the tiny hand latch onto his wrist as Damian had seemed to decide their interaction was over with, sparing not a moment to throw open the door as the night consumed them whole.

The stars seemed brighter tonight. He could only hope the sky would continue to stay clear. But of course, a part of him knew better.

________________________________

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The sound went almost unnoticed if his mind wasn’t almost unconsciously seeking it out. In that split second the noise registered, Jason had all but zeroed in on the monitor, now a lit with a new screen display.

Five new messages. That was definitely more than a simple “received” or check in, Jason thought as he practically slid across the room and opened it up. The messages lay clearly in view.

Jason's breath stuttered as his eyes landed on the last of the string of messages.
.
.

“What’s that?" Babs chimed in from just over his shoulder as Jason jumped a half foot in the air.

“Jesus Christ Barbie- you’re worse than Cass!"

“Who do you think she learned it from, hmm?" she teased with a raised brow. “But seriously- I thought you were making popcorn.”

Jason took a moment to glance at the still half open microwave and the unpopped bag that lay abandoned on the counter. “Right yeah sorry. But this takes priority.”

He slid aside enough that she could get closer to the screen to see all the messages sent, not saying a word as he watched her reaction.

“This… oh my gosh,” Babs breathed, leaning in closer and adjusting her glasses as if she couldn't believe her eyes, which he completely understood.

“This is it Barbie- our chance to show support in a way we never could before,” Jason beamed, quickly pulling away entirely as he began to pace. Fuck, there was already so much they needed to cover.

“Now we don't have much time to plan specifics, but if you focus on Big Bird and Robin, I can handle Spoiler and Bruce.”

It wouldn't be hard to bribe Steph, hell she would probably be more than happy for an excuse to avoid the warehouse district. Bruce would be- harder, but Jason could always pull one of his many trump cards and solidify Cardinal a night flying solo.

“Hold on- they want us to pull back everyone for the sake of a meeting?"

“Not pull back, just keep away from said meeting area. I mean sure, inconvenient, but you gotta look at the bigger picture.”

Babs slowly sat down in her chair, her gaze still locked onto the screen but occasionally flickering to Jason. “So that’s the plan- go behind Bruce’s back to help Cardinal?"

“Woah woah you make it sound like shit when you say it like that,” Jason was quick to protest, pacing further away from the computers. “It’s a… trade of trust, so to speak- and besides, it’s not like Cardinal will go supervillain overnight.”

“In that case couldn't we just tell Bruce?"

“What? Of course not- he'd get his grimy little hands all over it,” Jason sneered, approaching the counter and picking back up the previously discarded popcorn bag. “Of course his control freak nature wouldn’t dare give Cardinal more than ten yards distance.”

He set the bag face down on the little glass disk, giving it a small spin for good luck before closing the door with a small click into place.

“No, we’re more than enough to come up with a plan to suit whatever they have going on. It’s not like they ever need our help otherwise- if we don't help now, who knows if we’ll be given the chance ever again?"

Two minutes and thirty seconds, an extra thirty seconds more than normal for the name brand. But they were probably out of stock last time she went and Babs refuses to let anyone else pick up groceries on her behalf.

As the microwave lit up in that soft golden glow, Jason leaned back against the pantry doors adjacent, arms crossed over his chest.

“Besides, I know damn well you’ve been waiting for a day to bring Cardinal into the loop- are you mad because it isn’t on our terms?"

“That’s not what I’m-” Babs started, her shoulders hiking up. But whatever she was going to say died on her lips.

They sat there for a moment, in that early silence before she decided to speak again. “If you’re so confident it's what's best, then I guess I support you…”

Wow.

Well that was about the most “I don’t fucking agree with you” sentence he’s ever heard. It wasn’t even passive aggressive.

Jason sat up straight as the sound of kernels popping became background to it all.

“That isn’t instilling confidence in me Barbie,” he tried to joke, but the look in her eyes was beginning to ring alarm bells. It was uncomfortably uncertain, and he had no clue what to do with that.

Or well he did know- normally, he just wouldn’t do anything with it. He would always drop it whenever they got to this point. But here? Now? This was different.

She could make or break everything.

And he knew damn well if she knew any of the.. other motivations he had- she'd shut it down. Hell, she’d practically usher him into a straight jacket and holding cell for dear ol’ dad to fetch.

Maybe that's the reason he couldn't help but escalate so much.

“I’m not a fucking idiot Barbie- what exactly are you not agreeing with here?" Jason asked plainly. Tact was one thing, but Barbie was a woman who worked through the direct.

Babs straightened her posture just a tad, but he could see how she gently scratched, picking away small pieces of foam from the handle of her cane.

“Jason- I said I support you, let’s just drop it, okay”?

Jason stormed forward, ignoring the now ear-grating sound of the microwave beeper still calling out. “No, not okay!”

“Jason-”

“Barbie-” he bit back, cutting her off and steamrolling on. “Tell me what the hell your problem is instead of acting like such a bitch !?”

The word shot off his tongue like a bullet, firing out faster than he could recognize he even pulled the trigger. Only noticing the way Babs flinched, eyes widening and the way her face changed from passive to all out rage in just a moment.

But hey- just meant whatever she had to say wouldn't be filtered through thirty layers of niceties.

“Well you’re acting like a fucking idiot right now- I mean come on Jason I’m not going to just accept whatever impulsive half concocted plan you came up with, that didn’t very well work for you the last time did it?!" Babs practically roared out, knocking over several empty cans as she slammed her cane into the edge of her desk.

Jason froze, and slowly, his hands slipping from their crossed position and falling limp at his sides, hands curling into tight fists. Okay- he asked for that- but goddamn.

In that moment of silence she seemed to recognize her own words, dropping her cane as her hands shot to cover her mouth, eyes wide and filled with remnants of anger now fueled by regret.

“Jason I’m so-” She began, but was cut off by him shoving his hand in the air. They sat in silence for a moment before Jason collected himself enough to find the words.

“So- you’re worried I'll get myself in shit, that's what it is?” He asked earnestly, he needed to know. “That I need saving again? Well news flash, this doesn't involve him and even if it did- is it really that big a deal?"

She could stop now, admit it was a bad day, a rational and some spur of the moment blurt considering the fact he’d called her… what he would apologize profusely for once he calmed the fuck down.

But... he could see in her eyes she wasn't about to retract her words, even if they’d come out far harsher than she would’ve ever intended.

“I'm just- Jason there are so many red flags here and I'm worried we're overcome by the excitement, that it's clearly going to be an utter disaster,” Babs reiterated, pulling her palms together as her fingers interlaced, keeping steady.

“We both respect Cardinal and their capabilities, justifiably so considering all they’ve done for us let alone Gotham as a whole.” She sighed, “But we know nothing about Catalyst- hell we didn't even know they were called that until Cardinal’s freak out.”

“Your point being?” He couldn't exactly reject the ‘freak out’. Hell he'd probably used that exact wording while describing what happened on that damn rooftop that night. But for some reason- he couldn't help but feel… defensive.

“Of course we didn't know! They were barely anyone worth noticing until shit hit the fan,” Jason bit back. She would definitely be able to tell he was getting fired up, not that she would react any differently.

“I know. But if this is anything like Bruce-”

Jason could feel the way his hackles raised at the comparison, they were in a much better place- but goddamn nothing made him gear up faster than Bruce.

“They are NOTHING like Bruce.”

Babs had the audacity to look sympathetic, her eyes all too understanding despite the way he raised his voice. “Jason… if they are anything like Bruce- this taking on the world solo could kill them.”

.
.
Oh.

That was enough to make him pause, physically freezing as he now half hung off his seat. He- hadn't considered that. She wasn't worried about Jason being a dumb kid- it was Cardinal.

He hadn't considered what could be at stake- the risks beyond a lecture or hell maybe a few broken bones. But death at the hands of the unknown? Wouldn't be new.

Especially for the figure that they knew was oh so painfully human.

Babs continued. “Just by knowing a fraction of what you saw, them being that scared- it scares me, and I'm just… worried.”

She took a breath, and he could see the small bead of blood from her picking at her fingertips. But he didn't dare interrupt, he didn't even think he could. “We both know just how dangerous being compromised in the field can be- when the emotions of it all get too much.”

“I mean listen to their plan Jay… at first we don't hear a word, and then they go off the grid for a week only to hop back on and say they have a mysterious meeting in less than twenty four hours?"

Babs finally released the grip on her own hands, only long enough to push up her glasses and gesture at the screen. “Say we do keep everyone grounded or at least out of the way, what if things go wrong? They don’t have a comm, let alone an emergency beacon- they are alone against who knows what which we both know damn well is the worst way you can be.”

Her words rang in his ears, more so than the loud beeping of the microwave alerting the end. It took more effort than he’d like to admit, finding his voice, he managed to mutter out with a slight shutter.

“They're not me you know- aren't some dumb kid chasing a warped desire of family, being targeted because of fucking Batman, and dealing with coming back from being dead.”

“You were not a dumb kid,” Babs interjected. “And enough with the dead jokes, you keep making Dick almost cry.”

Jason huffed, blowing a bit of hair out of his face. Though it didn't move much. “Clinically dead is still dead, even if the CPR worked Barbie.”

She leveled him a glare, looking far from amused. But seemed to drop the subject for now.

“I’m… sorry I called you a bitch,” Jason apologized, the word already sitting heavy on his tongue.

“I've been called worse, and I made us even by bringing up your… technical death.”

Jason let out a laugh, but it felt... empty. But they still weren't done.

“All I'm saying is that maybe…” Babs took a breath. “ Just maybe- we should let Bruce in on this.”

“And what? I already said before- it would mean ruining our one chance at actually building trust with them,” he shot back.

“I know damn well you want this just as much as I do... I don't want to lose that. If Bruce knows- it leaves our hands, and he will get way too involved and at that point we'd be lucky to hear even a whisper of Cardinal for months.”

Babs sighed, lifting her glasses to wipe with the edge of her shirt. “I just… I don't like it.”

“You don't have to like it. You just have to trust that it'll work.”

“And if it doesn't?”

“If it doesn't we’ll be the first to know, and it'll be an opportunity to test response times from across the city.”

Babs stayed silent, but he knew from her? It was a silent approval. Or well- the closest he would get with this. It was her accepting that he wasn't going to back down, and knowing she’d prefer supporting him then letting him face it on his own.

“It's just one night Barbie.”

“One night,” she echoed, her voice void of any discernible tone.

“Let Cardinal have his secret meeting without the big bat involved, and take it one day at a time after.”

Babs opened her mouth, what he assumed was a final agreement on the tip of her tongue. But he would never know.

Because in that moment, another voice sounded deeper, and filled with enough anger to make Jason freeze in place at the sound.

“What.” The voice began, above a whisper but practically booming as it echoed across the walls of the clocktower.

The figure in the rafters above was quick to drop below, landing with a loud thud, hard enough to stir up dust as they now stood just a few feet away from Jason. Their pitch black cape puddling on the floor below.

Jason stared at the figure, and a narrow furious frigid white lens gaze stared back.

Batman stood before him, with Robin he assumed not far behind. “-Is the meaning of this,Jason?"

Oh fucking hell-