Batman crouched on the roof of one of the many warehouses bordering Miller Harbor. Formerly pristine and beautiful, the harbor, like the rest of the city, had been slowly corrupted and polluted. The once famed waters were now full of garbage and other crap. Batman turned his attention from the harbor to McGinty’s, one of the more run-down bars in this part of town. He pulled his grappling hook from his belt, and fired a line into a building next to the bar, the air-powered gun practically silent. He noiselessly swung across the street, far above the heads of those passing by, and lightly landed on the roof of the bar. Batman crept across the building, peering in through a skylight.
Below him, the bar was filled with various members of Gotham’s criminal element. Muggers, thugs, petty thieves, the lowest of the low, and nearly all easily intimidated and dealt with. After taking a moment to study everyone's location, Batman crashed through the skylight, glass shattering down on those beneath it, as Batman used his cape to slow his fall, just slightly, landing atop one of the bar tables.
“It’s the goddamn Batman!” one of the men shouted, as the room filled with a flurry of activity. Some of those present scattered, making their way to the exits, while others, including the bartender, dove for cover. The Batman, however, turned his attention to that handful that were drawing weapons. A swift strike to one hand removed a gun, while a kick to the face knocked him out. In one easy motion Batman unloaded the gun, the bullet cartridge dropping as he whipped the now empty weapon into the shoulder of another man. As the cartridge hit the table Batman kicked it across the room, sending it flying into a third man as Batman leaped from the table.
The remainder of the battle was quick, and decisive. Had all the criminals present attacked him, Batman could have been beaten. But with most fleeing, or hiding, Batman easily defeated the few that faced him. As the last attacker slid to the ground, Batman turned his attention to his target, a weaselly looking man cowering beneath a table.
Batman knocked the table over, grabbed the target by the front of his shirt, and pulled the man towards him. “Hey… It’s the Batman,” the man said in a squeaky voice, a weak laugh accompanying it. “Long time no see. You didn’t have to wreck the place. You know we could sit down, have a drink…” The man’s voice cut off as Batman tightened his grip, pulling him closer.
“Who murdered the Kellys?” Batman growled.
“I don’t know!” the man shouted in reply. “Nobody knows!”
“You better not be lying to me, Manny!” Batman said. “You know how I feel about people lying to me.”
“I’m not! I’m not!” Manny replied, the fear obvious in his voice.
Off to the side two men ducked behind an overturned table looked on. One held a gun in his hand.
“Get him, Frank!” the other hissed in a low voice.
“Yeah, Frank. Get him,” came a female voice from behind. As the two men turned to look they got hit square on with a blast of pure sound. The table behind them shattered as the two flew through the air, sailing a few feet to the right of Batman and Manny before they crashed into the wall, slumping to the ground unconscious.
Batman loosened his grip on Manny, the sniveling, little man slipping from his grasp and dashing off out of the bar. Batman growled in frustration as he looked towards the newcomer.
“Is that anyway to thank the woman who just saved your life,” Black Canary said. She adjusted her leather jacket slightly as she walked to where Frank was trying to stir, one of her fishnet covered legs giving him a swift kick to the side, knocking him back out.
“I knew they were there,” Batman shot back, Canary now noticing the batarang in the hero’s hand. “Why are you here?”
“Dick’s concerned, Barbara’s concerned. I’m sure Alfred is too,” Black Canary commented as the two took the conversation outside in private. “Not to mention people might put two and two together if Batman keeps on the rampage while Bruce Wayne adopts the kid.”
Batman just glared at Canary. A look that would strike fear in most, but not Black Canary; she caught the slightest change in his posture that let her know she'd struck a chord in him.
*****
Carrie Kelly slowly woke as the mid-morning light streamed in through the bedroom windows. It took her sleep-addled mind a few moments to realize where she was. Wayne Manor. She’d spent the last night here, and today she was going to be officially moving in.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Miss Kelly,” came Alfred’s gentle voice as he finished opening the curtains. “But it will do you no good to spend the day in bed. Come down stairs when you are ready, I’ll have breakfast all prepared.” With that he left the room, allowing Carrie to wake up and change.
It was about half an hour later when Carrie came down to the kitchen, dressed simply in a t-shirt, and jeans. “Thank you… Alfred,” she said politely as she sat down at the table, and began to eat.
“Merely doing my job, Miss Kelly,” Alfred replied, as he was busy washing dishes.
“Please… Call me Carrie,” the young woman replied between bites.
“Of course, Miss Carrie,” Alfred answered.
Carrie remained quiet for a few moments as she continued to eat, before she spoke again. “Where’s Mr. Wayne?”
“Master Bruce is regrettably detained with business,” Alfred told her. “He should be back soon though.”
Carrie nodded as she took a few more bites of her breakfast, before speaking again. “So why has Mr. Wayne done this?” she asked. “Taken me in? He’s not some kind of weirdo, is he?” she added with a small laugh.
“I can assure you, Master Bruce is not a ‘weirdo’,” Alfred replied with a slight chuckle of his own. “At least, not in the way you imply. He merely feels a kinship given the similar tragic events you both have experienced.”
Carrie nodded. “Yeah, he told me about that the other night,” she said. While she continued to eat, Alfred went back to cleaning when his watch started to beep. The butler looked down at his wrist, pressing a button on it. The time on the screen changed to two simple words.
CAVE. NOW.
Alfred gave a small sigh as he turned to Carrie. “I’m afraid I have to attend to another matter, Miss Carrie,” he explained. “Feel free to explore the mansion after you are finished eating. I should not be long.”
*****
Batman sat at the large computer deep in the middle of his bat cave, his cowl off, and hanging behind him as he was deep in thought.
“You called… Master Bruce?” Alfred asked as he walked down one of the cave’s staircases towards Batman.
“I did,” Batman replied, pulling off part of his suit to reveal one of his arms. “Your stitches came lose. Again,” he told Alfred, nodding towards the wound caused by the killer of Carrie’s parents.
Alfred shook his head, as he got his medical supplies. “I could comment on your reckless behavior while still being wounded, but given that I’ve been required to use my humble medical skills far more in the last four years then I ever did during the war, I suspect it would fall on deaf ears.”
Batman said nothing as Alfred replaced the few stitches, not even wincing from the needle prick. Finally he spoke. “I can’t rest, Alfred. I need to find her parents’ killer.”
“I think you need to be spending more time with that young woman,” Alfred replied, in his calm manner. “That is why you asked her to stay, is it not?”
“I will when she wakes up,” Batman said simply.
“It is already ten in the morning, Master Bruce,” was Alfred’s answer.
“It is?” Batman stared at the clock in the cave for a moment. “I must have lost track of time.”
“Indeed,” replied Alfred, the butler replacing his medical tools before heading back upstairs.
*****
It was shortly after lunch that Carrie’s friends arrived in Jason’s father’s van, and Steph’s father’s station wagon. The group left the mansion, returning a few hours later with Carrie’s clothing, books, and other stuff.
“Sure you don’t want to play some ‘Rock Star’,” Warren commented as the group finished unpacking. “I’ve got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell.”
Carrie just shook her head and rolled her eyes, as Tim groaned at the lame joke. “And you wonder why you can’t get a date,” Steph teased while she placed the last few books into Carrie's new shelves.
The group eventually settled on a movie, which is how Dick Grayson found them when he entered the mansion’s entertainment room. “Dick Grayson!” Steph cried out, jumping up from the couch. “I saw you win gold at the Gotham City gymnastics tournament a few year back and watched you win silver at the Olympics! Can I have your autograph? Oh please? Ohpleaseohplease!”
Dick chuckled as he wrote out an autograph for Steph. “I see you’re watching ‘Prince of Thieves’,” he commented nodding towards the large television.
“Yeah, it’s one of Carrie’s favorite,” Jason said from where he sat.
“She just like’s seeing Costner’s butt,” Tim added, chuckling, his words causing Carrie to blush.
“She liked watching your butt to,” Steph said to Dick, Carrie’s face going even redder, nearly matching her hair.
“Where’s Warren with the snacks?” the redhead commented, looking towards the kitchen and away from the others, as she tried to change to subject.
“A classic tale, Robin Hood,” Dick stated. “I’m a fan of the old Errol Flynn flick myself.”
“I like ‘Men in Tights’,” Tim commented.
“He prefers his Robin Hoods to speak in an English accent,” Warren joked as he entered the room with a large bowl of popcorn. “I’ll be back in a moment with the chips,” he added before leaving the room again.
“And Jason likes the Disney one,” Carrie teased.
“Your point?” Jason replied defiantly.
“What about you?” Dick asked Steph.
“She likes the old Daffy cartoon,” Tim said.
“But he really and truly IS Robin Hood,” Steph responded.
“Amazing how we all like different versions of the same character. I wonder if Mr. Wayne likes Robin Hood,” Carrie mussed.
“A bit,” Dick told her. “But he prefers the Zorro, and the Lone Ranger."
*****
“Looks like a standard break-in,” Detective Harvey Bullock commented as he looked around the crime scene. A donut in one hand, coffee in the other, the large round man strode through the jewelry shop where the robbery had happened.
“Nice to see you’re keeping the cop stereotype alive and well,” his new partner Ellen Yin replied, turning her attention back to a card she found near one of the shattered display case.
“Never had a chance to eat this morning,” Bullock told her.
“I don’t think this was a standard robbery,” the young Asian woman said, standing and turning to face her partner.
“Why do you say that?” Bullock asked.
“'Cause I found this,” Yin replied. She handed Bullock a clear plastic bag, the object she’d found now inside it.
Bullock looked at the bag, turning it over a few times in his hand. “A riddle?”
