(Edited with Grammarly on 2/26/2026)
Standing stooped, high above the city that never slept. Towering pillars of glass, neon lights flashing below, passing headlights petered out the last moments of their life. The sound of rumbling engines, honking horns, and the low thump of music reached even to this overarching height. In a lone alcove, three figures were perched.
Their figures blended into the night like specters, footsteps not even leaving a wisp of their presence. On one end, a rather feminine outline dressed in dark purple spandex, with a stylized yellow bat symbol across her chest, black and yellow cape billowing in the breeze. Masked with a bat cowl covering the whole upper half of her face, leaving those crimson locks go free. Green eyes moved from down below to back up to her companions, the unease evident.
Besides her, not too far away, another figure lay. Legs crossed and gloved hands behind his head. Wearing a rather...bright suit. With green spandex covering his legs and biceps, but with a bright red compression-like material stretched over his chest that had a small stylized 'R' atop the right breast. His long, yellow, and black cape acted as a blanket as he lounged, a small domino mask covering his eyes. Maybe people would consider him weird-looking even in a city full of weirdos, but no matter how weird he looked, that didn't stop them from getting beaten black and blue by the steel staff just within reach.
"You know," As it didn't seem like any of his companions were all too willing to speak, it might as well be him to break the ice. Besides, when else were they going to talk about what they'd just heard? A briefing? Please, he barely paid attention to those as is. "At least someone's night is going better than ours."
"Robin." Batgirl hissed low, a warning just on the tip of her tongue. Green eyes darted over to glance surreptitiously at the towering figure standing not even a few feet away. But just seeing the statue like a silhouette not move even a single muscle, her tone lost that edge and turned into something a lot more chiding. The sort of tone often used for annoying and misbehaving younger siblings. "That wasn't a good thing; it wasn't something to be admired or praised for."
"Didn't he do what we normally do?" Maybe it was the slight pang in his chest with that tone, like a constant reminder that no matter how hard he tried, she would always, always see him as a brother. A kid brother at that, but whatever the case, it kind of made him a bit more snippier than before. "Found the bad guys, slapped them around for information, and left them for the cops to clean up the mess. I don't see why you're okay with that when it's us, but for someone else, you both are all of a sudden against it."
"Gotham doesn't need any more vigilantes." The figure, still stooped over, barked. Those massive shoulders blocked out the entirety of the man's head, leaving only a pair of black protrusions to stick out. Looking like tiny horns and with that inky black cape covering the majority of his body besides gray spandex-covered arms, he looked every bit the gargoyle he often acted as. In one gloved hand, binoculars were held up flat against his face. "This whole 'vigilante' movement isn't a positive. Hospitals are packed to capacity, holding cells full, and the streets are more chaotic than they've been since I first started. They're not helping, they're making things worse."
"A lot of these vigilantes aren't trained." The redhead nodded in agreement, turning her full attention to the teen in question. "So they use weapons to counteract that. Knives, metal pipes, knives, and guns. Ever since...the incident, the police have confiscated more unregistered guns and knives than they had in the past five years. I know most of their hearts are in the right place…but they're simply making things tougher on the police. That's not even accounting for people who simply use this movement as a way to get payback against someone they believed wronged them. Or people just dress up in masks to also commit crimes now. Combine this withthe Circuit case, the GCPD are stretched thin as is. It's the same for us, frankly, I'm just glad that most of the major crime lords are quiet."
As much as he wanted to refute her, nothing she said was wrong. Every day on the news, the uptick of new vigilantes popping out of the woodwork was honestly becoming a real headache to deal with. Most of them, the harmless ones, just took this as a new fad or fashion statement. Especially that one guy...Crimson Man, he called himself. The only real threat he posed was to himself, and even that wasn't much. No matter how much the man decried himself as the mentor of Batman, everyone kind of already knew it was nothing but bluffs. And the only real reason the media still had him plastered in a random interview was strictly for the viewership. Everyone was curious about the caped crusader, and even if they had to listen to lies, any information was appetizing.
But it wasn't always so harmless; sometimes, some random person just decided to put on a mask and pick up a metal bat before going around to every known gangster, trying their hardest to take their heads clean off. Most of those vigilantes, who had a serious ax to grind, often wound up hospitalized or dead in an alley somewhere because they took more than they could chew. Or they faced the common result of an arms race.
Due to the sudden rise of armed citizens ready to fight back against crime, the criminal element has also grown to match this resistance. To the point where a lot of their patrols wouldn't normally end without a gunfight breaking out.
"The best thing citizens can do to fight against crime is to keep their eyes peeled and call the police if they notice anything." The redhead, probably seeing his thoughtful expression, softened her voice a tad. "That way, trained professionals can assess the situation and deal with it accordingly...We don't need people running around like this is the Wild West."
"It's not a blessing," Batman spoke up just then, temporarily throwing the whole conversation into disarray. That had to be done on purpose; it just had to be. "This chaos...this chaos is nothing more than static. Something's going on here, and someone's using this movement to slow us down. Target spotted."
And without even waiting a second for his words to actually register, the caped crusader leapt down from that impossibly tall height. Falling a good ten feet before his massive cape straightened, forming some sort of wings, truly like a gargoyle in mid-flight as he shot off to the side.
Robin leapt to his feet, leaning heavily on the lip as he strained his eyes to see whatever had caught his mentor's attention. A split second later, he spotted it...well, them. There, a couple of rooftops away, a purple figure bounced from one lip to another. Their own purple cape billows in the breeze.
"You coming?" Batgirl looked ready to follow after Gotham's Guard Angel, but she still looked back at him with her foot on the lip. Clearly eager to join in on the showdown to come. "...We sure could use the help and wouldn't it feel good to get some payback from that crossbow bolt?"
"…." She was right, it would feel good. A sneaky shot had left him with a massive bruise covering the majority of his chest, so tender that even rubbing against it sent a jolt of pain up his spine when it first happened. But...he'd already said he wanted nothing to do with protecting Shellford. And getting rid of the Huntress would do exactly that. And no matter how much that bruise might've hurt, the blow to his own pride by turning back on his own word so soon would hurt more. Hell, he shouldn't have even been there tonight! He'd only come just to spend a little extra time with the redhead. Would she consider him selfish? Lazy? A spineless loser? He felt like he was at a crossroads here. His own desires warring with his budding philosophy...But at the end of the day, could he really tell that face no? So putting on a false grin, he too leapt after the bat figure. A small feeling of unease welling up as he cut through the skies.
***
"I need a smoke after that," Willow spoke up, instantly shattering the dour silence between them. Maybe it was supposed to be a joke or some attempt at levity, but from the way her fingers shook slightly on the wheel, Albert really didn't think it was entirely in jest. Not that he could honestly blame her, he too felt the same way, and he'd never touched those cancer sticks or anything even in his past life. But after that shake down? Yeah, he could for sure go for one right about now.
Anything to calm his rapidly beating heart, to just stop the heat from flushing to his face, and for his own body stop trying to saturate his clothes in sweat. Even now, electricity could be felt coursing through his veins. Lighting up every single nerve ending. Every bump from the poorly maintained streets or wandering eye that lingered too long on the sleek black vehicle made him feel the sudden urge to cradle his gun in hand.
"Uh, just so you know." Again, she spoke up, looking through the rear-view mirror. The corner of her eyes crinkled up in a wince. "Your face...it's dripping."
"Sorry about that."
Only now did he finally gaze into his nearby reflection and nearly had a heart attack. That intricately detailed mask, composed of a mix of plaster and make-up, had visible cracks on its surface. But he wasn't too worried about that; those were intentional, but the mud-like substance running down the front completely ruined the cramp-inducing work. Quickly, before the sludge could hit the newly detailed seats, he rummaged around underneath him and slid his book-bag in his lap. Blindingly reaching, it wasn't long before he came up with a clear bottle and a white cloth. Reaching up and around, he undid the wig and slid it into a grocery bag before going to work, clearing the temporary face.
Plaster popped off with barely a tug, small ones at that, around his cheekbones and forehead before hardened lines were wiped away under the cleaning solution. Continuing until the face of Howard was cleared away and properly put away.
Looking at his own reflection, he made extra sure not even a speck remained before packing it all away deep into his book bag.
"I have to admit, that is kinda freaky looking." She grinned, a half-hearted thing, but he nonetheless appreciated her attempt at smoothing things over. But soon even that fled as the woman continued. "But seriously, you did a good job back there. To be honest, I didn't think you had it in you."
'Me either.'
In his past life, society had hammered it home that violence was always supposed to be the last possible resort. That negotiation and corporation was simply better for everyone involved. Even now, despite the city being as dangerous as it is, he couldn't honestly think of a single act of violence he'd enacted on someone besides himself. Okay, maybe that gunshot skimming that woman's ears was one thing...and maybe tying up that thug at knifepoint. But, but! He could accurately state that so far, all of his ways of dealing with people had always been through intimidation.
Leaving nothing behind but mental scars.
But now? That streak could be thoroughly thrown out the window. While it hadn't been under his own hands, he'd still been the one to order it. He could've negotiated, could've come at things from a different angle. Bribes or just observing them long enough so that they would have no choice but talk to him. But...that thought in itself left a foul taste in his mouth.
What he said was true: Albert didn't want to negotiate or do business with kidnappers. Didn't want to deal with anyone who would commit any crime involving a child.
That was why he was so willing to push his own boundaries so much. He was willing to bend his own morals, but not by that much. Those two were trash, the lowest of the low. Not worth the air they breathed.
"Thanks." He replied after a beat of silence, thoughts swarming all around him. "You too, but I do have a few questions. Do you know what this Gray Gardens is?"
Just the name alone didn't say much, but he could guess the underlying meaning. A garden in the urban jungle, growing special fruits for the picking. Or maybe it was just his own negative thoughts rearing their ugly head.
"No." Her answer was clipped and to the point. "But I can ask around, though. If what fuckface said was true, then it's not a real surprise that they're this unknown. Remember the Black Market I led you to last time? They're an example of what the Gray Gardens could be. A group of unaffiliated gangs, weak and minor by themselves, and they probably popped up to fill a perceived need."
"…."
"Don't give me that look!" Willow chided. "It doesn't matter how hard people fight; human trafficking will always be a thing. Back in the day, Gotham used to be a leading figure in that trade. It changed as time went on, and now it's too hot for anyone to really deal with it without significant backing. The major crime lords keep that sort of stuff on a tight leash, and normally, if you want to traffic people, you'll need to go to them."
"Organizations that deal with trafficking in Gotham are either extremely powerful or stupidly arrogant to believe they can take a piece of the pie. But given that this Gray Garden deals in children as well, I'm leaning more towards them being weak. Maybe they're backed by a stronger figure, but I really doubt that. Back when I was growing up, it would be up in the air, but especially in the past couple of years, none of the major crime lords want anything to do with children. We kinda wondered why, but given the sudden emergence of Batman, it's assumed they came to an unspoken agreement. After all, who would want to get beaten black and blue by a guy in a gray spandex?"
"Can you find them?" Hearing that the Gray Garden was weak caused his ears to perk up momentarily. If they're disorganized, then it'll be easy to infiltrate and have a look around. Maybe try and find Jacqueline before slipping out into the night with yet another face burnt.
"Hold your horses there!" She pressed firmly on the brakes, causing him to jolt nearly painfully in his seat. Before halfway, she turned her body to attempt to look him clean in his eyes. "I consider them weak. On a lower than even the Circuit, just because they aren't so obviously backed by some rich jokers getting their rocks off watching poor people fight and kill each other. But if you haven't realized this, Lovecraft, we're just two people here. And no offense, in a fight, you wouldn't really count. So how am I, a lone gal, going to be able to fight against...what? Twenty or thirty people with guns? If it were one of my own in there, sure, I wouldn't hesitate, but I'm not willing to just go in there guns-a-blazing on the chance that the girl you're looking for is there. Call me selfish, but no matter how shitty my life was growing up, now I really, really don't want to throw it all away. Besides, these people traffic humans; death would be a mercy in comparison to whatever they might do to me instead."
"...Sorry," He rested his head in his hands, shame welling up to the surface. She was right, he'd just gotten too excited before his mind could actually filter out the idiocy he'd so carelessly spewed. How could he expect someone to be so willing to toss their lives away just on his word or hopes alone? "You're right, I can't ask that of you."
"And you can't do it yourself either." She huffed bluntly. "If you try to go anywhere close to the Gray Gardens, you'll only get yourself killed. No, this is actually beyond you. This is beyond me. And this is beyond what Madame Clements would be willing and able to do for you. And because of that, and cuz I don't want to see your mug on an obituary, you need to tell me what your next step is. I'm not going to help you find them if all you're going to do is try to go in there by yourself. You can't. You've had no professional training, your Spark won't help you here, and I don't care how good your disguises might be; trying that shit there won't get you anywhere. You have to be a real paranoid and careful person to deal with kids, Lovecraft. Even if you get yourself all dolled up, all it'll take is a single slip-up before they'll put a bullet between your brows faster than you can even realize you've made a mistake. So, what will it be?"
In one instance, he wanted to snap at the woman. Going on a tirade beyond imagination, arguing with her about how this wasn't her life or that he was grown enough to make his own decisions, but he knew where a burnt bridge was when he saw it. Willow had been trying to do right by him for a while now, maybe some remnant guilt at the episode he had some time ago. Maybe she'd been ordered to keep a closer eye on him to make sure the Madame's investment wasn't wasted. Whatever the reason, it honestly didn't matter. What did matter was how he decided to deal with this.
He could admit it, that tiny part of him that wanted to rebuke with nothing but venom and vitriol was a young, hot-blooded version of himself suffering from routine insomnia and low blood sugar. With a version of himself that was tired of wandering the streets at night just hoping to stumble upon his next clue, a part of him that felt like such a massive failure that lashing out at the world was better than just admitting that he was in over his head.
She was right. In this current state of mind, in that rush to solve this case, he would absolutely dive headfirst into trying to infiltrate the Gray Gardens. And he felt he could get pretty far by relying, but...who was he kidding? Just a single verbal password was all it would take to end his attempt.
"Once they hear that those two were arrested on charges of kidnapping and human trafficking," He decided to verbalize his thoughts, as though to convince himself more than her. "I'm guessing, they'll be on high alert, right? And with how long I like to stake out places before infiltrating, it'll give them time to get these new security methods up and running. Give them the chance to destroy evidence and silence witnesses. This can't wait, not even a single day. I don't have the skills, the power, or the connections to raid them myself… It seems the best path forward is to tip the police off to a human trafficking ring and hope for the best. Will, will you be able to do that on your side?"
"…." Willow didn't reply immediately, only taking the time to really look him over with heavily squinting eyes. Staring hard as though searching for a lie or anything to prove that he wasn't as defeated as he made himself appear. Only after concluding did she nod and continue. "We can do that. I'll call Madame Clements and finalize things...But I hope you understand that I can't in good conscience tell you exactly where they are, right?"
"I understand."
Slumping in his seat, he could do nothing but look out at Gotham's nightlife. Of flashing neon signs and party goers drowning their sorrows in a bottle or needles. Thunder clouds rumbled from above, dark and ominous clouds rolling in to literally rain on their parade. Seeing him cowed, the woman turned back in the driver's seat and took out her phone.
"Madame Clements," Her tone was respectful but warm. Like how one would talk to their own mother figure. "We got a hit. Is there any way you could find out where the Gray Gardens are located? No...no, we're not going there ourselves. Yes, yes, I'm sure. Is there any way we could get this information to the right people? Yes, they're probably already been apprehended….Yes, he agreed, and we're on our way back now. Thank you, I will see you in an hour."
But he was already beyond listening, eyes drooping heavily as sleep finally found a scrabbling grasp onto his psyche. Adrenaline leaking from his body as through an uncorked stopper, weakness flowing through in a gentle but sudden wave. Instantly pulling him under into the world of dreams.
(A/N: Hello everyone, first I want to thank all of you who support this work! I wouldn't have been able to get to this point without you guys! Been awhile since I've written one of these but here goes nothing. In the beginning of this chapter I was going to have this whole scene where Batman and gang had a completely different reaction to them listening in on our detective. I was going to have Alfred go on about how they need to do a DNA test and actually begin suspecting that Albert might be one of Bruce's bastards. Was going to have a scene where Dick felt both humored by that idea while also being worried about his own place if an actual child of Bruce popped up. Maybe have Barbara try and comfort him and fail or something. But coming back to it a day later, the scene felt forced. It didn't make much sense especially since I tried to copy the iconic "WHERE ARE THEY" from Batman: Dark Knight Rises but the line itself is kinda generic. If you're looking for someone you're going to say this exact same thing. And then I thought hey, lemme try to twist it by saying it was because of how he asked it and how closely it resembled Batman's but that didn't really fit either. Now I'm just rambling, anyway guys, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and I'll see you all next week!)