#3 - Old Friends

#3 - Old Friends



"Who is it?"

"It's me, Tim."

The door opened to reveal Barbara sitting in her wheelchair. She had a smile on her face. A weak one. Tim had gotten to know her well enough over the last year to tell she was putting it on for his benefit. People watching was one of his skills. It was the basis for how he got the job as Robin, after all.

"Come in," Barbara said as she turned to make her way back inside. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No," Tim replied, shutting the door behind him. He'd never been to Barbara's apartment before. His first instinct was to scan the area and take in every detail. "Um, no thank you."

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Barbara parked herself across from the couch, motioning for Tim to sit down.

"Is Dick here?" Tim asked, taking the offered seat. He noticed the computers in the corner and started taking a mental inventory of her setup. Very impressive.

"No," Barbara said with a scowl. "He hasn't called you yet?"

"Uh uh."

"Goddamit," she said in a harsh whisper. She quickly forced her face back into a warm smile. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh...well, great." Tim leapt to his feet and began to pace. He glanced into the kitchen. Dirty pots and pans filled the sink. An awful lot for one person. Dick was probably here this morning.

"Tim," Barbara said in a soft voice. She reached out and put a hand on his forearm. "You almost died last night. I've been there. You can talk to me."

"It's..." Tim sighed and ran a hand across his face and through his short, jet black hair. "It's not that. At least, that's not..."

"What happened?"

"Dad caught me sneaking in last night."

Tim met her eyes. He could see her mind racing. "Were you-"

"No, no. I wasn't wearing my costume. I change and hid it on the rooftop. I knew there was always a chance he'd catch me."

"Phew." Barbara dropped her hand and relaxed her body.

"But he...he flipped. I've never seen him so angry. I'm not even supposed to be out right now. He grounded me. I have to get back before he comes home or I'll be in bigger trouble."

Barbara rubbed her nose and considered. "Maybe it's for the best. Things are getting heated right now. A break from Robin might be a good idea. And take it from the daughter of a cop who had her own rebellious streak as a teen, it'll blow over."

"I don't know." Tim looked down, avoiding her gaze. "I almost hit him."

He could hear her hold her breath. Shock. Barbara always treated him like the little brother she never had. A lot of it no doubt had to do with how similar they were. Smarter than their peers growing up. Socially outcast because of it. Driven into the Bat-Family through determination and a sense of justice. Yet despite their similarities, Tim wasn't Barbara. He felt she often thought more highly of him than he deserved.

"I mean, if you two were arguing...things got heated..."

"I wasn't angry," Tim said, his voice even. He lifted his head to look at her. "He yelled and moved toward me. It was so sudden. I just...reacted. Like I was trained to."

He saw realization come to her face. Her smile returned, now a genuine, compassionate one. "It's not your fault. We've all honed our instincts. You were hyped up on adrenaline after your run in with the Mr. Red Helmet. You reacted. It's nothing to be ashamed of. In time you'll learn to control those instincts when needed."

"Sure, maybe. But now my Dad probably thinks I'm out at night getting into fights. He probably thinks I'm in a gang or something. I just...at the end he was just sad. He brought up Mom."

Tim sank back down on the couch. Barbara rolled over and wrapped him up in a hug. It was a bit awkward due to the chair, but it still helped a little.

"I...I know how that can feel. It's not the same, but when my Dad and I fought, my Mom would come up too. It's...an easy card to play, especially when tempers flare. Sometimes when people get angry they just want to share the hurt they're feeling. Even parents. None of them are perfect."

"I mean...part of me feels like I'm being selfish. That I'm being Robin for myself and...if I'd died last night on that rooftop, my Dad would be crushed."

"It's a question we all have to ask ourselves in dangerous lines of work. Heroes, firefighters, military, cops. It was something I struggled with with my father. And maybe part of being Batgirl was getting back at him for being a cop."

"How do people do it?" Tim asked, breaking their embrace and looking Barbara in the eye. "How do people risk themselves all the time when their families are at home?"

Running a hand through the back of Tim's hair, Barbara said, "I can't answer that one for you, Tim. You have to decide that one for yourself."



Security was intense throughout the Iceberg Lounge. Unusually intense considering the lounge was closed for the night. An emergency plumbing problem. Pipe burst. Of course everyone with reservations were given the most sincerest apologies and the promise that they would be given priority at the soonest possible date of their choosing.

Oswald hated having to do it this way. So blatant and in his own backyard. Yet his hand had been forced. The only way this meeting could go down was after certain assurances were made, and Oswald's reputation was taking a hit right now.

"Thank you, my dear," Oswald said with a nod as a freshly made cappuccino was set down on the table in front of him. Caffeine at midnight wasn't something he liked to do often, but he needed the edge.

"He's here, boss," John announced, his voice a bit nasal sounding due to his broken nose.

"About time." Oswald sat up straight and took a deep breath. He needed a moment to calm himself. He wasn't nervous, not really. He was simply frustrated. However, his temper had caused him to make poor decisions in the past. It was one aspect of himself he tried hard to correct.

Taking a deep sip of his cappuccino, Oswald watched over the edge of the cup as the doors opened. Six men flanked the two women sashaying up toward his table. Six guards, two women, and no Dent.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding," Oswald said, his voice calm but hard. "This meeting was to take place with your employer."

The six guards took up positions around the table as the two ladies sat down. One, a platinum blond with curled, chin length hair and a long, conservative white dress, sat with precise movement and ladylike grace. The other, a large, muscular woman with wild black hair with red highlights, dressed in revealing black leather, spun her chair around and threw herself down upon it.

"Our employer is less than confident in the safety of your house, currently," the blond known as Sugar said, her voice silky smooth. Every word was said with a smile on her ruby red lips.

"Boss says you got a problem and ain't sure why he should care," Spice barked.

Oswald slowly took another sip and gently placed the cup back onto the saucer in front of him. "He should care because this 'problem' won't stop with me. It's bad for my business, which means it's bad for everyone's business, including his."

"Perhaps that is correct," Sugar offered, crossing her arms and putting one finger up to her lips. "Or perhaps our employer simply wishes to see you driven out of business, giving him the opportunity to absorb your operations."

Oswald audibly chuckled at that, causing Sugar's eyes to narrow. "Then he's deluded. Harvey is no longer the charming people person he once was."

"Two-Face..." Spice said with emphasis, slamming her fist down on the table, "...is plenty capable of running your shit show, Penguin!"

Keeping himself as composed as possible, except for his eyes going wide, Oswald pushed his chair back and stood up. "Have a good night then, ladies. Sorry to have made you travel so far at such an hour, but we are unable to do business at this time."

A slightly worried look flinched across Sugar's face. A look Oswald had seen numerous times. The look of a bluff being called. "Now, now...Mr. Cobblepot, I'm sure we can..."

"We can't, I'm afraid," Oswald said dismissively. Let them squirm. They'll go back to Dent with their tails between their legs and he'll be forced to come to him next time. "We're done."

"Oh we're just getting started!"

The voice echoed through the Iceberg Lounge, it's direction unable to be detected. Oswald watched both his and Dent's men searching about, fear in their eyes. He knew what is was immediately and dove under the table as gunshots rang out.

Bullets and screams surrounded him. He watched four different bodies fall to the floor before the table was knocked over. Sugar and Spice ducked behind it, having ascertained the direction of their assailant. Spice had a large sawed off shotgun in her hands. Sugar a single revolver.

"Bullet proof tables, Pengy?" Spice laughed as they felt the impact of bullets slamming into their cover.

"One can never be too prepared," Oswald scowled. More bodies fell. John landed in a pool of his own blood at Oswald's feet. Reaching out with his foot, Oswald pulled his fallen henchman's automatic rifle too him.

A brief lull in gunfire was followed by the voice, "You can't hide forever, Penguin!"

Rising to one knee, Spice spun and fired off a blast from her shotgun. More bullets followed and she ducked back down. "He's over by the bar. He's got a red helmet on. Who is this guy?"

A heavy impact hit the other side of the table with a thud. Their eyes went wide at the realization. They started to dash away when a small explosion knocked them all onto the floor, the table shredded into jagged bits.

"This has been a long time coming, Penguin," the red helmeted man said as he casually shot the last guard in the head.

Oswald's ears were ringing. Rolling over onto his back, he reached for his rifle as he saw the red helmeted man walk up to him. Oswald squeezed the trigger but the man kicked it aside and out of his hands like an afterthought.

The man raised a large pistol and pointed it at Oswald's head. "Business is closed."

Out of the corner of his eye, Oswald saw a flash of light and suddenly the pistol was gone. The man raised his hand up and clutched it reflexively in pain, looking up with his featureless, mirrored helmet behind Oswald.

Oswald rolled his head back to watch as Nightwing spun through the air and landed on a table. "The bird is with me."



MallBabe: how bad is it

DrakesFortune: Bad. Never seen Dad go off like that.

MallBabe: ur dad always seemed so chill
MallBabe: thot u were his golden boy
MallBabe: wat were u doin sneakin out neway

DrakesFortune: I had a hot date.

MallBabe: rly?

DrakesFortune: I wish.
DrakesFortune: No I was helping a friend with something. Lost track of time.

MallBabe: rly?

DrakesFortune: Yes really.
DrakesFortune: It's a long story. I tried explaining it to Dad tonight. I don't know if he bought it.
DrakesFortune: He calmed down at least.

MallBabe: how long u grounded 4?

DrakesFortune: Probably until I'm 21.

MallBabe: at least he cares

DrakesFortune: Yeah.

MallBabe: hes still lettin u use internet?

DrakesFortune: Not really. He unplugged the router. He doesn't know I have the neighbor's password.

MallBabe: lol

Tim clicked out of the direct message tab of Discord and back to the BatofGotham channel. He always felt kind of silly going in there. Morbid curiosity, he supposed. It was interesting to see how close some of them followed their activities. Or just how outlandish some of the theories going around were. Now, however, he was mostly checking to see if anyone realized Batman was gone.

The only light that shined in his room was from his laptop screen. His father liked to keep the heat low to save money, so Tim was huddled under his blankets like a kid with a flashlight. It was killing him that he couldn't be out as Robin. It was Saturday night and there was always something going down. Even taking his anger out on some purse snatchers would be welcome to being cooped up in his room.

Still, between the red helmeted man and then the run in with his father, Tim was left unsure about many things. Perhaps he should take this time to decide what to do with his future. Proving to Bruce that Batman needed a Robin had been part of the reason he'd been allowed to take over the mantle. But does the world need a Robin without a Batman?

flashfan: word on the street is that the Bat has been gone for weeks

Tim quickly capped his bottle of water and fumbled to put it on his nightstand.

DrFockerPHD: Ive heard that to

SonOfSephiroth: if thats tru then who took down crane last week?

TheDorkKnight: No way Batman's gone!

DrFockerPHD: there was that thing by teh dicks last night

flashfan: seph that was probably robin adn the new guy in blue

DrFockerPHD: *docks lol

TheDorkKnight: Why would the police turn on the Bat Signal if Batman was gone?

SpoilerWarning: It was Penguins men at the docks last night and they were killed. Batman NEVER kills!

flashfan: focker froudian slip much lol

DrakesForturne: How do you know it was Cobblepot's men?

DrFockerPHD: hey maybe batmans decided to up his game and start taking out those losers for real!

SpoilerWarning: I looked into the IDs on some of the dead. Google is your friend.

AuntieH: It's about time if you ask me

DrFockerPHD: yeah things never get beter n gotham they need 2 start dropin bodies

DrakesFortune: How'd you get their IDs?

SpoilerWarning: Shut up! Its not Batmans place to kill criminals! He brings them in for the police

TheDorkKnight: Penguin! Cops should take that creep down!

BatInTheBelfry: i herd their is a guy in a red mask killin criminals all over town

flashfan: Gordon and the police are a joke!

DrFockerPHD: if u brake the law u shouldnt expect the law 2 protect u
DrFockerPHD: mabe bats finally gets it

SonOfSephiroth: im not sayin they shud all be killed but if you break the law than you get what you get

SpoilerWarning: Just because someone breaks the law doesnt mean they deserve to die!

Tim tried to direct message SpoilerWarning, asking about the IDs. After a couple minutes of no reply, and their disappearance from the chat, he decided they must have logged out. As the chat continued down the "kill em all!" rabbit hole, he finally decided to close his laptop and try to get some sleep.



Nightwing saw the red helmeted man start to reach behind his back. Nightwing rolled backwards and flipped the table he was standing on over in one fluid motion as bullets flew. He heard a primal scream and peeked out to see Spice attack the red helmeted man.

The man turned his gun toward her, but she grabbed him by the wrist and ripped it out of his hand. A hard elbow slammed into his helmet, but he countered with some hard punches to her ribs. He finally kicked her away.

Nightwing leapt over the table and crossed the distance at an incredible speed. As he made his way over, he jumped up on another table to allow himself to attack the red helmeted man by air. The man sidestepped Nightwing's attack and followed up with roundhouse kick. Nightwing lifted his leg up as he landed to block the kick with his shin.

Before they could continue, Sugar ran up. She had switchblades in both hands and had slit both sides of her dress up to her waist, allowing her shapely legs ample space to move. Her body flowed with practiced grace, like a homicidal dancer, and she even caught the red helmeted man in the arm. His heavy leather jacket took most of the cut.

Out of the corner of his eye Nightwing saw Cobblepot sneaking away. All the better, one less liability in this chaos. Problem now was trying to stop the man while also keeping Two-Face's henchwomen from killing him or getting killed themselves.

The red helmeted man got a solid punch into Sugar's face, knocking her back. He turned to move toward Nightwing. Suddenly Spice grabbed Nightwing from behind, pinning one of his arms to his side.

"I'm on your side right now!"

Spice answered with another scream, squeezing his body with her muscular arms.

Lifting both feet off the ground, Nightwing kicked the man back. Reaching back with his free arm, he grabbed Spice's head and, using the momentum as his feet went back to the floor, pivoted his body and threw her over his back.

Nightwing and the red helmeted man, both down on one knee, looked directly at each other.

"Who are you?" Nightwing asked.

"Heh. You can call me the Red Hood."

"What?" He knew that name. Everyone in Gotham did. This couldn't be him, so why would he take it?

The Red Hood started to get up but Sugar was behind him, swinging down hard with one of her switchblades. He caught her arm and threw her over his shoulder. Twisting the knife from her hand, he started to bring it down toward her chest.

Springing forward, Nightwing tackled the Red Hood. They rolled over backward, the Red Hood kicking Nightwing off him. They both got to their feet and Nightwing watched as Sugar and Spice communicated silently between each other. It looked like they decided this wasn't worth the trouble and started to move off.

"The police will be here any minute," Nightwing said as he and his opponent began circling each other.

"They won't be in time to save you."

"Overconfidence is your weakness," Nightwing quoted, smirking to himself.

"Just shuddup and fight!"

The Red Hood leapt forward, his voice filled with anger. His fist slammed into the side of Nightwing's head, knocking him off balance. Nightwing managed to roll just outside the reach of the Red Hood's follow up punch, countering with a kick to the side of his knee.

As the Red Hood went down to one knee, Nightwing followed up with an uppercut, but it was deflected and he was pushed away. The Red Hood got up and immediately charged in again.

It continued like this for some time. Neither fighter getting a clear upper hand. What advantage Nightwing had in speed and agility, the Red Hood made up for in sheer rage. As the fighting continued he seemed to get more and more agitated.

"What's wrong?" Nightwing smiled, dodging a wild swing. "Seeing red?"

"Will you shut up!"

Misjudging a feint, the Red Hood caught Nightwing off guard and tackled him. Pinned to the floor, the Red Hood's fist slammed into Nightwing's head twice.

"I've always fucking hated that about you," the Red Hood shouted before punching him again. "Always cracking jokes like it's a game!" He raised his arm to punch again, but the puzzled look on Nightwing's face caught him off guard.

"Always?" Nightwing asked. "Who are you?"

Nightwing didn't wait for an answer. With all his might he raised his knee into the Red Hood's groin. Even with the cup he was wearing, it dazed his opponent long enough for Nightwing to push him off.

Spitting blood as he rose to his feet, Nightwing moved to attack when the doors to the Iceberg Lounge flew open. A GCPD Swat team entered, guns ready. The Red Hood quickly tossed a flash grenade and darted away. Bullets fired wildly as Nightwing pursued.

The Red Hood made his way to the rooftop, Nightwing in hot pursuit. Once they were in the open, Nightwing tried to hit him with some Batarangs, but the Red Hood bobbed and weaved like a pro.

They leapt from rooftop to rooftop, police cars following below with lights shining up. When they got to the end of the block, the Red Hood pulled out a grapple gun and fired toward a taller building across the street.

Nightwing's thoughts turned toward his younger days, training with Batman on the streets of Gotham. It all felt so familiar. He shot his own grapple and followed, aiming higher to try and get a height advantage. They swung over the street and toward another rooftop, Nightwing practically on top of the Red Hood.

As they landed, the Red Hood dropped some smoke pellets. It distracted Nightwing long enough to lose his advantage. He continued to pursue over two more rooftops before a third leap.

While in the air, Nightwing saw the Red Hood start to twist. It was too late to stop himself, so Nightwing leapt in pursuit but pulled out another Batarang. He watched as the Red Hood turned in the air to face him and pull a small pistol out of the inside of his jacket.

Nightwing let lose the Batarang. It was enough to knock the Red Hood's aim off, but the shot still impacted in Nightwing's right shoulder, causing him to spin as he landed hard on the rooftop. The Kevlar mesh of his suit saved his life, but the impact of the bullet was like getting hit by a freight train. He gasped for air, the wind knocked out of him.

"Not bad," the Red Hood breathed heavily. He pulled the Batarang out of his forearm and threw it on the ground. Walking over, he pointed the gun at the back of Nightwing's head. "But then you were always Daddy's star pupil."

On his hands and knees, Nightwing turned his head to look up at the Red Hood. The idea seemed insane the moment it came to his mind, yet he still voiced the word. "Jason?"

As he pulled the trigger, Nightwing swung his body around on his left arm in a move that looked like out of a breakdancing video. The bullet impacted the bare rooftop as Nightwing's feet slammed into the Red Hood's chest.

Off balance, the Red Hood stumbled backwards and fell off the side of the roof. Nightwing moved to the edge and watched as the Red Hood slammed into the side of a fire escape, rolled, and landed on the street below on all fours. He didn't even look up as he ran off into the night, police cruisers driving off after.

They wouldn't catch him. Nightwing knew that. He wouldn't either, not with his shoulder banged up like it was. No this night was over. He wiped the blood from his mouth and looked out over the city. Gotham City was ever the same, yet he still felt like the ground had been taken out from beneath him.



Oswald ran through the back alleys behind the Iceberg Lounge. This whole evening was a disaster. It would take more favors and resources than he cared to spend to keep this from ruining him. The only upside would be if that red helmeted maniac and Nightwing managed to kill each other for him.

He turned the last corner to find his parked getaway car. Even in his own nest, Oswald always made sure to have an exit strategy waiting. He ripped the door open and jumped into the backseat, slamming the door in a hurry.

"Drive!"

Despite Oswald's heavy breathing he still heard the faint ringing sound next to him. He didn't even need to look over.

"Harvey?"

Two-Face slammed the coin onto the back of his hand, a hand holding a revolver aimed directly at Oswald's chest.

"Good head. Do as he says." The voice was deep and gravely. Like sand paper on stone. "Drive."

-The End-