Gotham's Darkest Corners

[Barbara Nolan]

Despite what her adopted father told her, there were people that fell through the cracks of society into the dark recesses of injustice. Uncle Jim had told her many times not to worry about it, but even back then Barbara Gordon could tell that he didn't really believe it. The police department was crooked, and it was only after being away for a few years at college that she'd really understood what was going on in her home town.

Gotham City was like a zit covered in makeup. Sure, New Gotham was pretty enough, and Gotham Heights wasn't too bad - a neighborhood on the rise! the papers said. But underneath that public veneer there was a festering blemish that seemed to be getting closer and close to popping.

"Babs" gagged a bit at that mental image, and hugged her wool coat closer as she walked from the cab to the apartment building in the Narrows that she was visiting. The driver roared away, even though she'd asked him to stay, and she sighed, adjusting the floppy knit beret on her head before ringing the bell for her source.

Her source. Sounded all official. Barbara looked around, her breath lightly fogging in the cool fall air as she waited for a response. She was not a journalist, but she was the writer of the blog Gotham's Dark Corners, dedicated to highlighting the people who the law had failed, or who had otherwise fallen through the cracks. It didn't have a very big readership, but she was determined to change that by getting angles that people couldn't read in the dead tree papers like the Daily Planet or Gotham Gazette.

After a few minutes she was buzzed into the building, and Barbara slipped inside, thankful to be off the street.

[Barbara Nolan]

The Taylor's apartment was on the fifth floor, and the elevator was out of order. Barbara hugged her purse to her chest as she began the climb, her nose wrinkling lightly at the slight smell of piss that no amount of scrubbing could get out of the stairs. In fact the odor of disinfectant that was layered on top of the urine was combining to create an even worse assault to her nose.

On the third landing there was a pile of clothes that turned out to be a bum, come in out of the cold night air. Barbara carefully sidestepped him, thankful the man was asleep so she didn't have to decide whether she was going to ignore him or be guilted into giving him money. The further up she got the stairway became more cluttered with things - boxes and ripped open envelopes. She picked her way to Anna Taylor's front door and rapped lightly.

The locks slid back, and the door opened, stopped by the chain. Ms. Taylor peered out at her, and Barbara gave her a little wave. "Hello Ms. Taylor, thank you for letting me in." She hesitated, and the other woman remained behind the door, before closing it on her face. Barbara could hear the chain moving back and then Anna opened the door again, stepping aside to let her in.

Barbara was glad to get in off the landing, and was also happy that the apartment smelled like cookies, not the odoriferous agglomeration of the stairwell. "Thank you. I won't be long, I promise, I just want to get your first hand account of the robbery. Like I said on the phone." Barbara couldn't help looking around the tiny apartment, catching sight of a little boy peeking around the corner down the hallway.

"Yes, yes," Anna said nervously, wringing her hands. "Come, sit. I was walking home from work..." and the story flowed out of her in spurts and starts, Barbara stopping her to get better details every once in a while.

It was a familiar story. Thugs lurking in the Narrows were getting bolder in the face of little police intervention, and the folks that lived in the shadow of the Asylum were hurting because of it. And because it was the Narrows, no one in New Gotham seemed to care. Barbara wrote down Ms. Taylor's account, including her side of her interactions with the police force, painstakingly in a little notebook. After promising anonymity, again, Barbara was shown out, and stood on the landing outside the apartment door while Anna Taylor locked the locks behind her. The final deadbolt slid into place with finality, and Barbara set off down the stairs.

The bum wasn't there anymore, but there was a mysterious dirty smudge on the stairs where he had been, and she carefully avoided it. Out on the street, in the dark that was lit only with the occasional street light, Barbara hunched her shoulders a bit and set off walking, hoping to see a cab that she could flag down before too long.

After a few minutes she realized that there was someone following her.

[Rick Grayson]

"Will you relax, Jimmy?"

Rick Grayson narrowed his eyes coolly at the ball of nervous energy standing next to him. Jimmy glanced back, trying and failing to appear casual.

"Sorry," the shorter, skinny man whispered. Rick weighed in around two hundred at a mere average height of five ten, so being the physically imposing one was a nice change of pace. "I just know the kinda guys we're dealing with, ya know. You don't. Of course I guess that's the whole point of why we're here. Putting us back here after letting you got this far is weird man. I don't like it. They told me you checked out. You did check out right?"

"Will you shut up."

"Yeah. You did. They told me you-- No. I'll be cool. I'm cool."

Rick glared at Jimmy's bloodshot and dilated eyes. A bead of sweat appeared on Jimmy's brow. Rick's attention went from there to his left hand, strumming a heavy metal drum solo on his pants leg.

"I cannot believe you fixed before this meet," Rick hissed. "What the hell's wrong with--?" He cut himself off as the echo of footsteps resonated from around the corner.

"Hey sorry to keep you guys waiting," the new arrival said cordially. He stood a good head and shoulders above Rick, and two eighty at least. So much for being the biggest guy in the room. It was fun while it lasted.

"No worries, Ray" Rick assured him. "It's business. But I do have places to be, so..." He let the words trail off and gestured toward the warehouse floor behind Ray.

The trio walked deeper into the warehouse. A group of well dressed thugs gathered around a table and a stack of crates awaited them in the middle of the cement floor, standing a good one hundred feet from anything resembling cover.

"Alright gentlemen," Rick greeted the group at large. "Can we do this?"

"Mr. Garrett," the nicest dressed thug proclaimed as he walked around the table. "My apologies, but you can understand the need for due diligence. The quantities you're looking for are--"

"Can you set me up or not?" Rick gently interrupted.

"Not me, personally, no. I have to ask, though, what kind of job requires that much hardware?"

Rick laughed sharply, hitting Jimmy on the chest with the back of his hand. "A job, he says. You hear this?" Jimmy tried to laugh, too, but it came out a cough. "I need five cases. How big would a crew would I have to need that many guns for a single job?"

"You building your own army?" the man countered. "I didn't get that supervillain mastermind vibe off you."

"You sure? We are talking about Magrail XT-97R subcompacts here. Railgun tech with the stopping power of a 50 cal small enough to conceal. That was the sales pitch, right. And pre-calibrated silencer mods. Wanting fifty cases of those isn't megalomaniacal enough for you?"

The salesman paused a moment to regard Rick, then finally chuckled. He started to speak up, but Rick cut him off again, more abruptly this time. Jimmy's fidgeting spiked, but he forced himself to stand still.

"Look, if you're not the guy who can sign off on more than one case of guns, then you're definitely not the guy who needs to know my business."

Rick leaned in closer, lowering his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll tell you this much if you need more to get your boss' interest. I have friends. Okay? A lot of friends. In Gateway, Star City, New York, Metropolis. Get it? Friends with, ah, pest control issues. Pests with capes."

He took a few steps back toward the door, flipping open his cell phone and holding it up for everyone to see. "I don't deal with sales reps. You know how to reach me." Rick jiggled his cell phone back and forth in his hand to emphasize.

"Get me in touch with someone up the chain who can fill this order and maybe we can turn this into a more interesting deal. Now if you can please kindly hand the gun back which I so graciously gave to your door monkey, I can go home, and you can go make that deal happen."

A few moments later, Rick ushered Jimmy out of the warehouse section of the old office building.

"So what do we do now?" Jimmy asked.

Rick frowned. "We do nothing. You go home. Dry out -- God willing -- and tomorrow you lay low. You did good."

As they walked out the front door, Rick patted Jimmy on the shoulder and nudged him down the street, then walked the opposite direction. As he headed off, he rubbed the base of his jaw under his left ear.

"You got all that?" he whispered to himself as he continued to walk casually.

"Yeah, Wing," a voice replied in his ear. "Get your gun to the drop point. We can run the doorman's prints. You get a good look at the merchandise?"

"Yup. They're the real deal. The shoulder mounted variant uses a series nine generator. If it's up to specs, that's supposed to be able to drop Power Girl. If Sionis floods the streets with that much tech, I don't..."

"Agent Nightwing, you there?"

Rick's eyes narrowed at two figures across the street approaching his position from down the block. A young woman with a slender build, hunched ever so slightly over her purse marched briskly half a dozen paces ahead of a man in a ratty trench coat. Rick almost stopped in mid stride as the woman passed under a street lamp. He caught a glimpse of red hair under the flickering light.

"I'll call you after the drop," Rick whispered and tapped the mic off.

He quickly angled into the darkened street, crossing toward them and unzipping his jacket to gain quicker access to the pistol concealed underneath.

[Barbara Nolan]

She didn't quicken her pace as she grew sure that someone was behind her and closing the distance between them. She didn't want to rabbit and cause whoever it was behind her to wolf. Barbara gave herself a mental shake - her thoughts were getting scattered as she dug in her purse for her phone.

She looked over her shoulder just a bit, enough to see the thickset man in a trench coat. He saw her look and took longer strides, reaching out to grab her arm, his other hand tucked into a pocket of his coat. His hand closed on her arm and the strap of her purse, and Barbara abruptly spun towards him, leaving him holding her purse as her hand came out of it, holding her mace up at his face.

"You better drop that," she warned, and then realized that the tube she was holding was her lipstick. "Dammit!"

"Shut up," he growled, knocking her hand aside and grabbing her by the throat. "You're coming with me."

Barbara could feel him pressing on her carotid artery as he tried to direct her to a darker side street, and she grabbed at his wrist, trying to push his hand away. He chuckled, a mean sound, and she took a better hold of his arm, digging her fingernails in as she levered her legs off the ground in an explosive motion, using his arm for a pivot point. She kicked into his chest and twisted her body around, using her body weight to throw him down to the ground with his arm between her and the concrete.

The pressure on her throat eased and then disappeared as something in the man's arm popped loudly, and he started yelling and cursing as she got on her knees and punched him in the nose. He was trying to get his hand out of his pocket, but Barbara didn't let him free whatever he had in there - probably a knife - kicking him in the ribs to turn him onto his back and then stomping on his groin.

"You should have some manners," she said a little breathlessly, ignoring him for a moment as she located her phone on the ground and tried to use it to call 911. Unfortunately when he'd dropped her purse its contents had spilled, and the battery had separated itself from her phone. It was too dark to find it quickly, and the thug on the ground was starting to uncurl from the fetal position, still shouting loud enough to wake the dead. Or the Narrows.

The shadows around her seemed to be moving, and Barbara shoved what she could find back into her bag, including her notebook. Touching her neck lightly she could feel something wet, the skin broken by the man's fingernails as his hand had been torn away from her.

Finally finding her pepper spray she sprayed him in the eyes for good measure, reducing his yells to whimpers at long last. Heart racing, she clutched her purse to her chest and started running across and down the street, desperate to find a cab as what she could only assume were the man's friends started appearing on the street near her. Scanning the buildings around her she saw a suspicious shadow on a rooftop, something dark and caped that disappeared as soon as she saw it.

[Rick Grayson]

Rick started to pick up his pace as the redhead's assailant closed in on her, cursing as the timing of the attack placed them behind a line of parked SUVs, blocking any chance at a safe shot from his position.

He thought about shouting out, but the mugger had closed the distance so suddenly that without the element of surprise, he'd have a hostage situation on his hands. The realization that they were still so close to Roman Sionis's warehouse darted through his mind, but he cast the thought aside as he moved as quickly as he could toward them while staying silent.

What happened next came so fast, it took him off guard. Rick watched in awe as the woman executed a flawless Aikido take down, dropping a man over twice her weight to the cement. The series of kicks that followed was decidedly nontechnical, but no less effective.

At that point the woman looked up frantically, giving Rick a clear look at her face under the streetlight. His eyes widened in surprise.

Agent Grayson took a step back into the street and zipped up his coat as she gathered her purse. Part of him wanted to laugh at the sight of her macing the downed man in the face, unsure if it was an intentional tactic to keep him down or an act of spite. Either way, she got away.

But she was still hysterical, appearing to be running blindly now, and most importantly still in the Narrows at night.

Rick jogged over on a roundabout intercept course, careful not to appear like he was chasing her, but still needing to intercept her from straying too close to a blind alley.

"Hey," he started to call out. "Hey are you o-- whoa!"

Her scream almost wasn't enough warning. Rick's hand shot out instinctively in a parry as her mace canister appeared in his peripheral vision. His other arm whirled down to block a follow-up kick that flew toward his crotch. When yet another swing came at him, he had had no choice but to grab her wrist and spin the madly struggling redhead around in a front arm hold.

"Barbara calm down! You're safe n-- ... It's me-- ... Barbar-- ... Rela-- ... BABS!!"

[Barbara Nolan]

Barbara struggled wildly, stomping down on his instep before she realized that she recognized his voice. "Ohmigod," she said, "I hate that nickname."

The man behind her relaxed his hold, allowing her to turn to face him although he still kept a hand on her wrist. She looked up at Rick Grayson, and then threw her arms around him. "I'm glad to see you!"

On her tip toes looking over his shoulder she could see the buddies of the guy she'd beaten up closing in on them, one holding a pistol. "Uh, we've got company..."

[Rick Grayson]

Rick smirked when Barbara finally stopped struggling. "I hate that nickname."

"It got your attention, right?" He relaxed his hold, but quickly braced himself again to keep from getting knocked over by the enthusiastic hug. "I'm glad to see you, too, Barb but we really should get going. My car's right down the street."

He heard the scuffle of footsteps on asphalt behind him.

"Uh, we've got company..."

And there was about as much chance of a cop car conveniently passing by in this neighborhood as a taxi.

Rick held the hug another second to conceal his hands as he reached one under his opposite sleeve to unclasp a tiny strap wrapped around his wrist. Then he slowly turned around to face the approaching posse.

"Kay, look guys, we really don't have to do this. You realize how many witnesses are watching after all that noise. We could be selling tickets."

He pointed up at an apartment window to illustrate. They all looked away for the briefest second, at which point Rick reached his left hand behind his back. He took a sliding step forward slightly, extending his right hand protectively in front of Barbara to add to the distraction.

He noted one gripping a pistol and another wielding a pipe. Both still held their weapons at their sides as they marched up with casual confidence in their numbers. Behind them, the original attacker stumbled to his feet, trying to clear his eyes and regain his bearings.

"Hey see that?" Rick quipped. "Look, he's fine. Let's call it even." Again some of them looked, but not all.

Grayson became a blur, surging forwarding in a spinning motion. His left arm whirled in a backhand swing. A rapid snap-snap-snap echoed down the empty streets, ending in a sharp crack as the now extended billy club struck the inside of the goon's wrist. He followed immediately with a side kick to his gut before his gun even hit the ground.

His right hand whipped in an opposing arc. Another goon dropped the lead pipe in his hand, screaming and clutching at the throwing knife embedded deep in his shoulder wedged under the clavicle.

[Barbara Nolan]

Barbara was absorbed by watching the action in front of her, and failed to notice the two men coming up silently from behind her while Rick unleashed heck on the ones in front of them. She was caught by surprise as arms like iron bands wrapped around her, and a hand clamped down on her mouth, stifling her instinctive shriek.

After a moment of disorientation her long hours at the dojo paid off, and her training kicked in. Lifted off her feet by the first thug, Barbara kicked the second one in the throat, holding onto the arm around her to secure her position. A second kick to the now falling man in front of her shoved her backwards into the man holding onto her, sending them both sprawling in the street.

[Rick Grayson]

Rick spun around in time to sidestep the falling body of a would be attacker. Barbara and the fourth member of the merry band hit the street with enough force to loosen his grip and break them apart.

Just as the spots cleared from goon four's eyes, he looked up to see Rick standing over him, pointing his buddy's gun at his face.

"Hey don't look at me like that. I tried to be nice."

Rick back peddled toward the goon wailing on the street while keeping the pistol in his hand level. He kept Barbara in the corner of his eye to make sure she was okay.

The woman stood up, dusted some wet gravel off her pants, and kicked the thug sharply for good measure. He used that moment when she wasn't looking to yank the blade out, wipe it on the guy's shirt, and tuck it in his belt. In that time, Barbara had kicked him again and was winding up for a third.

"Hookay I think he gets the point. We gotta get out of here. C'mon."

With that he gently took Barbara's wrist to urge her away from the now helpless thug, though he never lowered the gun from the guy's head just to be sure.

[Barbara Nolan]

Barbara scowled at their attackers as Rick tugged her away, and then hurried next to him, skipping to keep up with his pace. "That was... amazing! Where on earth did you come from?

"I mean, I'm glad you showed up," she added quickly, holding her coat closed as he led her quickly to his car down the street. "But I haven't seen you in years! What are the odds?" She looked over at him, her face flushed from the cold and the exercise, eyes shining.

[Rick Grayson]

What are the odds, Rick silently agreed.

He glanced at Barbara after taking another look over their shoulders, taking a quick assessment. Young, pretty, wearing a fashionable long wool coat, high heel boots, big purse, and a cute little beret. She may as well have worn a sign saying "Hi! I'm lost. Please assault me," written in big neon red marker.

"I'm glad I showed up, too. I was stupid enough to be in this part of town at night because I offered to drive a friend home. I'm dying to hear your story." He added a chuckle to the end to lighten the edge in his voice. He wasn't breathing as hard as he probably should have been, but the adrenaline had a long way to go before washing out of his system.

As they walked, Rick popped out the clip on the pistol that he swiped from the thug, ejected the last round from the chamber, unhooked the slide from the frame, and tossed the whole disassembled mess into a dumpster as they passed by.

"I'm going to take a big leap and guess your father doesn't know you're here."

[Barbara Nolan]

Barbara looked away with a mischievous 'you caught me' grimace on her face, but she sobered up quickly. "Possibly not my brightest idea, but there wasn't any other time that would work." She hesitated, as if she was going to say more, but didn't offer any more information. Instead she tucked her hands into her coat pockets.

True to his word Rick's car wasn't parked far away, and as she waited for him to unlock it Barbara shifted her purse from one shoulder to the next. Then she grabbed it and mashed it between her hands, frantically searching for the hard corners of her notebook with Anna Taylor's story. "Fuck," she said a little breathlessly, looking frantically back up the street where they'd come from. "I dropped something."

[Rick Grayson]

Rick bit back his first reaction at Barbara's halted explanation. He knew about her blog, but foolishly assumed that she used second hand sources to get the stories she wrote about. He did not want to believe she was that dumb. No, on second thought, maybe she was.

The catch was, he didn't want to have to explain how he knew about her blog... or that she dropped out of college, or where she worked, or her current residence.

The background check was necessary to help maintain his cover. Best to know where anyone might be who knew him in his old life as a cop, before he was recruited by Checkmate.

Barbara and Rick met when he was rookie detective in her father's precinct. She was in high school at the time, but despite his best efforts to keep a safe distance both for the sake of his career and his conscience, they became friends.

Nothing untoward happened between them, though he felt obligated to keep their friendship under wraps all the same. He was close enough to her age that she could relate to him easier, but old enough that he qualified as a grown up to talk to -- mostly about things she didn't want to tell her dad. Rick figured the suit probably contributed to the image. She didn't give any of the beat cops near as much attention.

He was a shoulder to lean on and a friendly smile to get her through times of teenage angst compounded by the perceived burden of being daughter of local hero: Lt James Gordon. In the process, he got to know Barbara very well. Like a younger sister, so he kept telling himself.

Rick had no illusions that their friendship factored into his suspension in the wake of the Joker case all those years ago. Were he a father, he doubted he would believe it was completely innocent either.

Flash forward to earlier this year. Agent Richard Grayson, White Knight in the federal covert metahuman intelligence division, Checkmate, is granted a lead investigator assignment in Gotham City, ironically due to his extensive knowledge of the Batman gathered through that very case that got him suspended. As part of solidifying his cover to infiltrate the criminal underworld, he needs to account for all past associates.

So the background check was purely business. It didn't make him a stalker. It wasn't because she was gorgeous, or that he could do the math and realized Barbara would be of a more socially acceptable age now. His mission simply demanded that he try to minimize surprises.

"Fuck. I dropped something."

"What? You're kidding." Rick looked across the roof of the car in disbelief. Barbara looked ready to run off.

"No. No way. Whatever it is, just... no. I'll buy you a new one."

[Barbara Nolan]

"That's sweet, but its irreplaceable." She looked over at him, his door open already, and shook her head. "I'll be really fast?"

"No way Babs," he gave the nickname the slightest bit of emphasis, also shaking his head. "You can come back when its daylight, maybe, but tonight... no."

His tone brooked no dissent, and Barbara chewed her lip and meekly got into the car, closing the door carefully so as not to catch her coat in it. "Fine." She looked sideways at Rick as he started up the vehicle, realizing that he hadn't changed much since she'd seen him last. And apparently he didn't think she had either.

Still just a child to be protected. Barbara flexed her fists, noticing she'd broken some skin, and then as the car warmed up she could feel the sting of the scratches on her neck. Pulling down the sun visor she tried to get a look at the wounds with the little mirror on the back of it, wincing as she lifted her chin.

From the looks of it, she'd be wearing turtlenecks for a week. The blood was minor and already drying, but a hand shaped bruise was already beginning to form.

[Rick Grayson]

Rick caught the sideways look as he started the car. He sighed gruffly, cycling through all the possible meanings of that look in his mind. He considered how close they were to Sionis's warehouse. They'd be gone by now, right? The way she was evading the subject of why she was in the Narrows this late only worried him even more.

He took note of her bruising, relieved that she wasn't more seriously hurt. Those moves she pulled out back there were not your run of the mill self defense training material. The girl knew how to take care of herself.

Rick groaned aloud in frustration. "Fine," he declared. "What did you drop that's so important?"

[Barbara Nolan]

"My notebook." Barbara turned towards him in her seat. "I was taking notes for a story." She licked her lips a bit, and added, "I have a blog, its just getting started, but I was interviewing a woman tonight. She works two jobs so this was the only time we could get together and she would not speak on the phone."

She sighed, "I really don't want to lose it, I don't think she'll talk to me again. And no, my dad doesn't know I'm here because I'm an adult and its none of his business. And he'd of told me not to come, and I would have anyway. So its better this way."

Barbara looked down the street the way they'd come, and bit her lip. "I should have used a digital recorder but I don't have one yet."

[Rick Grayson]

Rick listened to Barbara, taking in how genuinely nervous she was about this notebook. He took a quick look in the rear view mirror, then opened the car door. In the couple seconds while she was getting out of the car, Rick transferred his throwing knife from his belt back to its concealed wrist sheath. With that, they walked on back toward the street.

"Okay, it must have fallen on the sidewalk. Given the shape they were in, it's likely they didn't see it and just took off." Rick frowned at that thought. "Let's hope," he added.

"So why wouldn't she talk on the phone? What's this all about?"

[Barbara Nolan]

Barbara snugged her hat down, and jumped out of the car to walk beside Rick, their breath fogging up the cool air in front of them. "She was robbed on her way home from her second job a week and a half ago. Three guys wearing Halloween masks - I guess they got them on sale after the holiday or something."

They quickly were coming up on the site of their little scuffle, and the street was deserted. Barbara kept looking down at the street, knowing she picked it up after the first assault, so it had to be here, in the middle of the road. She trusted Rick would keep his eyes open for more bad guys.

"She couldn't describe them to the police, and lets be honest, they don't have enough officers to patrol the Narrows, let alone keep track of one frightened woman's story. Cancel your cards and get a new license, they told her." She bent down, peering underneath a nearby car. "Never mind she'd just been paid and the thieves took her money. Cash... about six hundred dollars."

Barbara rocked back on her heels. "I don't see it anywhere. And yeah, I know the story isn't much and its not like the cops are being negligent, I just want people to know this stuff goes on all the time here. Like, three times a day pretty much. The people who live in New Gotham - or anywhere, really - they just like to pretend that the people who live in the Narrows deserve their fate.

"But they're hard working people, just trying to do whats best for their families, the best they can." Her cheeks were flushed in the cold as she got to her feet, brushing her hands off on her coat. "Well, some of them anyway. The other half are busy tormenting them, I guess."

[Rick Grayson]

"Three guys wearing Halloween masks - I guess they got them on sale after the holiday or something."

Rick chuckled. "The Halloween mask market runs year round in this town, Babs."

He listened as they retraced their steps around the site of the attack, though he was more concerned with watching the alleys and street corners than looking for the book.

Rick found a blood trail leading off to a now empty parking spot about a block away. If they were random idiots trolling for victims to 'party' with, they might be stupid enough to go to a hospital. Then there will be a police report filed for the knife wound. If they were the least bit organized, they'd be at least smart enough to find an underground clinic. Still a lead, but a bigger pain in the ass to follow.

Not that he had any intention of pursuing the matter with Barbara in tow anyway, but worth a mental note just in case.

"Oh, hey," Rick called out. He stooped down and pulled a spiral notebook out of the gutter. With a distasteful look at the muck caked on the cover he held it up between two fingers and asked, "This it?"

[Barbara Nolan]

"Ack, yes," she said, hurrying to Rick's side and taking the notebook from him. Bending down she used the edge of the curb to scrape off the worst of the mud, and tsked. "I'd ask how it got all the way over here, but I don't think I want to know...!"

Rick had put a hand on her shoulder and was already steering her back towards the where they'd left the car. Barbara didn't resist, and actually stepped in a little so he had his arm over her shoulder as they walked. "Thank you," she said quietly. "This really meant a lot to me. And the whole, saving my life bit wasn't bad either." She looked up and winked at him.

[Rick Grayson]

Rick blinked in surprise as Barbara leaned into him, and just found himself smiling stupidly at the wink. "Least I could do, ma'am," he said in a put-on southern drawl.

He chuckled and added in a more serious tone, "Let's try not to make a habit of it, though kay? Batman can't be everywhere, and I'm not applying to be Robin any time soon just to keep you out of trouble."

He gave her shoulder a squeeze and walked on, doing his best to keep his eyes straight ahead. Endorphins were funny things that make people have all kinds of funny thoughts.

She's the daughter of the second most powerful man in the city, Grayson. And he hates you. Take it down a notch.

"Hey, you want to grab a cup of coffee or something? I had a whole different picture in my head of how meeting you again was supposed to go, and this ain't it." He flashed her a smirk as they got to his car and headed for the driver's side door.

"Where's good around campus? You transferred to Gotham University now I guess right?"

[Barbara Nolan]

"Oh, I'm taking a year off school," she said breezily. He'd pictured meeting her again? A bit of the school girl crush she'd fostered for him seemed to swell at the thought. Barbara looked around at the street they were on, seeing a few people walking away from them, but they had their heads down and looked like they wanted to get home in a hurry.

"But there's a great place by the Gotham Public Library. That's where I'm working again - full time now." She separated easily from him as he clicked the doors to his car unlocked, and scurried around the hood, hopping inside and closing the door firmly. "Its open all night - some hipsters hang out there during the day, but its pretty chill at this time of night." She smiled at Rick as he got into the car, wanting to pursue the 'you pictured meeting me?' angle, but also knowing that now wasn't the time.

[Rick Grayson]

"Pretty chill, huh?" Rick said with a chuckle. "Those hipsters are rubbing off on you."

They drove for a couple blocks with just the radio softly rolling out modern and 90's rock into the relative silence. Rather than head directly for a main strip to turn towards downtown, Rick guided the car through a circuitous route, keeping careful eye on sidewalks and the rear view mirrors, though doing his professional best to stay casual.

"Hey I need you to do me a favor. Don't mention me or your trip to the Narrows tonight in your blog, okay? Let's just keep this little adventure between us."

[Barbara Nolan]

"Oh, right. Of course not." She glanced sideways at him, wondering why he was taking back roads instead of more obvious route. "Its strictly anonymous anyway, I write under a pen name."

Barbara laughed, a touch of the hysterical in her tone, "I doubt anyone reads it anyway!" She sighed, resting her head in her hand with her elbow on the car door. Risking her neck for a hobby was stupid, which he was probably about to point out, but really, she had one dad and that was enough. Well, technically she had two dads, one bio one adopted. But that was certainly more than enough for one woman.

[Rick Grayson]

The car turned onto the bridge leading into the far more welcoming streets of New Gotham, heading downtown.

"Well you've got one more reader," Rick said. "You've got me curious about this now. Sounds like you're on your way to being Gotham's Lois Lane."

[Barbara Nolan]

"Ha! I doubt it. But if anyone reads it at all then that's something." Barbara sat up a little straighter. "Almost there. There's usually parking in the lot across the street..." She pointed, helpfully, and Rick left the road and pulled into a parking spot.

A cold wind had kicked up in downtown, and they hurried across the street into the coffee shop, Rick holding the door for Barbara like he always did. It was blessedly warm inside, and there was a jazz quartet in the back on the tiny stage, filling the shop with quiet music.

After they got their drinks (Barbara ordered a hot chocolate) they found a cozy place to sit beside the floor to ceiling bookshelves. "So," she smiled, "What are you doing back in Gotham?"

[Rick Grayson]

Rick found a table far from the window to obscure being seen from the street. He sat facing the door, with a good view of the fire exit.

"So," Barbara smiled, "What are you doing back in Gotham?"

"I'm with a private security firm now. We doing some work for Queen Industries," he gestured toward downtown with a thumb over his shoulder.

Rick took a drink and idly scanned the room. "We analyze for data mining, irregular logins, inappropriate emails." He chuckled. "Corporate crap. It's a lot more boring than the title makes it sound."

[Barbara Nolan]

"Mmm," Barbara nodded, sipping her hot chocolate. "Well, it sounds pretty boring, so I can't even imagine. You poor thing."

She looked around the room, and settled deeper into the mismatched wing back armchair. "I can't really see you spending all your time behind a desk. But then," she added mischievously, "you were in the Narrows tonight as well. Rogue emailers living nearby?"

[Rick Grayson]

"Actually," Rick replied, "Yeah. We traced some scam emails and a denial of service attempt to an IP that originated at an address there. Wanted to be sure it wasn't just another router before sicking the Feds on the place.

"He turned out to be pretty much what you'd expect, some fat ass schmuck with a bunch of cats, living off stolen welfare checks. One less idiot hacker out of the client's hair."

He chuckled and shrugged. "Like I said, boring."

They spent the better part of an hour talking, mostly about nothing, and laughing over stories from when they both last lived in Gotham.

Saying goodnight was unpredictably awkward. The exchanging of numbers and emails went well enough, then detoured into this odd sort of first date territory as they hesitantly hugged each other and parted ways with a nervous chuckle.