"It's clear that The Sons and the Brotherhood are using super-powered villains to do their job. As this is the case, a simple police patrol will not suffice when it comes to protecting Gotham Officials," Batman begins.

"What would compel the Sons and the Brotherhood to come after us?" Jim asks, "Can't just be the usual generics."

"We think that it has something to do with the TIPA," Nightwing says.

"True Identity Protection Act. Makes sense."

"TIPA doesn't just hold witness protection names. It contains the details of retired and jailed super villains. There are plenty of people who would like revenge on either of those groups," Batman explains. "As you know, there are five keys that, when used simultaneously, unlock the vault beneath the Police Department. The Sons seem to be looking for or targeting those with the keys."

It takes some work to suppress the smile that I want to beam, but I fight it down. Letting on that this is one of the situations I live for might not be the best idea.

"Jim, you have one of the keys. I have one. Bruce Wayne has one; his father Thomas started it. The Mayor has one. And the fifth one..."

"Head Councilman Hanlon. Killed yesterday," Red Robin finishes.

"So they have just one," Gordon murmurs.

"Alright; what do you suggest we do?" I ask Batman. He looks around the rooftop cautiously, before getting things rolling with a roster.

"You will all operate out of safe-houses from now on with rotating guards. Robin and Signal will protect you, Jim. Blackbat and Batgirl will stay with the mayor. Red Robin and Bluejay will stay with Bruce Wayne," he lists. I clench and unclench my fists, cold from the rain and nervous to find out who I will be stuck with. Nightwing maybe?

Batman steps back, revealing someone leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. I hadn't noticed him before, but it's definitely Red Hood, observing in silence again.

I start to laugh coldly like it's a joke.

"Red Hood and Nightwing," Batman adds defiantly, "You'll be protected by them, DA Meadow."

"Yeah FYI," I begin, pointing at him, "the guy didn't do much watching from the rooftops when Croc came after me."

"That is true," Robin adds from behind Batman. I nod at him.

"Thought you weren't a damsel," he remarks, pushing off the wall. "You got by just fine, sweetheart. Besides I'm not too happy about this either."

"Then don't do it," I look back at Batman, "So other than trusting a criminal to protect me from criminals, your plan has some other glaring problems. First, I've seen your new blonde Batgirl trip on her own cape. Her own cape."

"She's getting better every patrol," Red Robin defends quickly, but Batman gives him a look.

"It's true that she is not as...ready as the others, which is why she has been put with Blackbat. They balance each other out. Your other concerns?"

"Why not move the keys? Send them separately to different cities?"

"She has a point," Nightwing cuts in, "It's really the keys they're after, not their owners."

"Moving the keys won't stop them from going after you."

Seeing no other way to put it, "If they catch us, torture the location out of us, they'll get the keys. If the keys are moved then it doesn't matter if we're caught because we won't know where they are."

"You're assuming you'll get caught," one of the detectives, Montoya says.

"If you don't assume the worst you won't be prepared for it," I hold back the insult that should follow. Every cop in this shit city should have that mindset. I look her up and down before turning back to Batman, "Can you really imagine a wet sock like Bruce Wayne keeping secrets while being tortured? And don't even get me started on the sack of garbage we have for a mayor-"

The door to the roof bangs open suddenly. My sister is there, panting, distressed.

"The Mayor's been shot! He's in surgery now," she announces, her detective badge glistening on her belt.

There's a second of silence where everyone looks at me with some sort of abject horror.

I give up and glare at Ginger, "Shitty timing."

She gives me a confused look.

"Nightwing. Red Hood. Escort DA Meadow to her sister's home and stay with her. Robin, Red Robin, call Signal in and remain with the Commissioner. I will attend the hospital and speak to the mayor myself."

Everyone is suddenly rushing everywhere. I quickly turn around and head back down the external steps with Nightwing on my heels. Once we reach it, he scans Ginger's car, checking for bombs or bugs. Given the all clear I unlock it and get in.

"I'll ride with you, if that's okay?" He asks before I shut the door.

"Not like I have much of a choice." At least he didn't offer to drive. Before I switch it on I see Red Hood getting on his motorbike to follow behind us.

I pull out of the parking space and drive towards the exit.

"He'll protect you well, you know? You've impressed everyone with what you've done here these past years. I can't believe we haven't even been acquainted yet."

He's a talker.

"Sure," is all I say.

From there however he only speaks occasionally, which is more my style. By the time we've reached Ginger's apartment on the empty streets he has said a total of seventeen sentences.

I park in her usual space and point out the other car to Grayson so he can check it. He does, and it's bomb free. Not surprising since no one should know I'm here.

Before I can go up to the apartment, Nightwing holds me back. Red Hood moves passed and goes up first, I assume to check if the coast is clear.

He smells like cigarettes and leather. It brings back memories of my own time running rooftops with a mask.

Red Hood; broad shoulders, rough voice, attitude. Usually my type. But I can't go for a criminal. Not with the image I have to uphold to keep my job. It could also lead me back down a path I've already walked- no one wants to repeat their teenage mistakes.

Nightwing's a big guy too, but he seems serious in a professional way. Gentle, almost. On top of that I can't help but feel that he is too familiar.

Red Hood must report that the coast is clear. I get into the elevator with the babbling blue streak beside me and we ride up to the halfway mark of Ginger's floor. Lucky the elevator opens straight to the apartment; could be hell if one of the neighbours saw.

"Can this guy be trusted?" I ask.

"You major in Criminology and Psychology, and minor in Sociology. What do you think?" He asks.

I frown up at him. "How the hell did you know that?" I ask. "Scratch that. Of course you know that."

"It's customary to know who you're protecting."

"So you trust him?" I ask as the motions stop.

He nods firmly. "I do. I think you already do as well."

I'd read all about Red Hood. Plus my main illegal activity connection, cousin Angelique, told me that when he first hit the streets to take control, his number one rule was no dealing to children.

The apartment looks the way I left it. Only now it is sister and boy-toy free.

"What am I suppose to do about tomorrow? I have a case and the Wayne Foundation ball," I say seriously as I move through the place. Red Hood is standing in one spot, but his head moves, looking around the apartment slowly.

"We'll just have to be there," Nightwing says.

"All the time?" His partner finally speaks as they follow me into the kitchen. The white wine from the fridge is empty, so I make a beeline for the glass cupboard as they stop by the bench.

"All the time."

I open the doors there and to my relief, find that Ginger doesn't just keep a bunch of fruity drinks. Buried at the back is a red wine, probably one I gave to her to keep here for me.

Taking it out along with a glass, I place them on the bench behind me.

"Domestic alcoholism, I hear," Red Hood says. I hear the smugness from behind him helmet.

"Oh yeah? From who?" I challenge, uncapping it and pouring it. "Take that helmet off and I'll tell you everything that's wrong with you." He doesn't say anything and I don't care.

As I sip, the burn in my throat and the bitter taste wash away some of this eventful night from my mind, I move towards the kitchen draw Ginger uses as a 'not mine' place.

Whether it be my stuff, our other sister's, or one of her many nighttime friends, it's here. It's also where I find one of my cases of Panatela Cigars. I sigh and look up, mouthing a 'thank you' to the ceiling.

No lighter, but I find matches in the third draw.

"Should you really be smoking in your sister's house?" Nightwing asks, breaking the silence. I roll my eyes and light the cigar in my mouth.

"She claims to hate the smell," I respond. "But I hate the smell of Whitebell Cologne, which seems to be the scent that her latest toy, Richard Grayson wears. So yes, I really should be smoking in here."

Red Hood lets out a snort. Nightwing glares at him, before walking out of the room.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Why are you smoking Panatelas?" He asks, unfolding his arms and coming off of the wall towards me, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Because they're good," I say. My eyes really want to dip lower than that red chunk of metal, but honestly that's not something I want him seeing me do.

"They're for girls."

I frown, with a hint of a smile, "And what do I look like to you?" I gesture to my body. His head doesn't move but I'm sure his eyes do.

He looks away almost...shyly. But surely not, right?

I could use my powers to read him, but I have a rule about abusing them for personal use. Plus, if he's easily swayed, it's entirely possible it will backfire. I have the ability to entice people into doing exactly what they want- their deepest desires, no matter whatever is holding them back.

As a vigilante though, it's likely his mind is strong enough...

"Closed off," I begin, my eyes sweeping over him, "Automatically defensive. Full-headed helmet, not just a mask. Closed off. Defensive. Helmet... Secrets. But who..." I mumble.

He draws back, obviously surprised at my sudden assessment. I can make the toughest of defendants cry like little babies, normally because I can find who they really are, if I look.

"Mother. Sister. Girlfriend." He cocks his head to the side now, probably frowning at me in confusion behind that red helmet. I swap the wine glass to my other hand and take a step forward. "Brother," He fidgets with his fingers, "father," I continue. He stops leaning on the bench and stands up straight, clearly irritated.

"Look, whatever you-"

"Father. Brother. Men in your life you've... disappointed? Or lost. Or both? Closed heart. Trying to stop something that's been broken slightly from being completely destroyed. What's happened to you? A death. Did your father die? No dealing to children. Drugs took your father then, huh?"

I get too into the reading and accidentally let slip a bit of persuasion in my eyes. It catches him and he draws his gun. Okay, so his deepest desire just then was shooting me in the face. Good.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" He snaps, but his hand isn't quivering, "Want me to lay on the fucking couch?"

The gun doesn't phase me. I take another step forward and raise the hand holding the wine glass up to it and push it away. Immediately he drops his arm.

"I'm not just going to trust someone with my life before assessing theirs," I say calmly.

"Anyone ever tell you you're an ungrateful bi-"

"Finish that sentence," I challenge. "Why the fuck are you even here?"

That's another thing I have wondered about; what is giving him the drive to do this? Something good? Protect Gotham's DA who has put many of his associates in the Penitentiary?

Sure, Red Hood isn't the worse guy to be here 'protecting' me, and it's not like I'm a saint, but I've met the families his actions have destroyed. I've seen the photos of the people he has beaten and killed.

"What the hell's going on in here?" Nightwing asks frantically when he walks into the thick tension, glancing between us like he's at a tennis game.

"You said you trust him," I turn my abilities on him, "But why? Who are you to him? Who is he to you?"

I tap my glass with my nail, taking a drag from my cigar and exhaling through my nose while I think.

"Brother," I murmur. Yes, that's where we were. "I said brother and you flinched. Are you brothers? Are you doing this for him? Is that why he trusts you?"

Both look taken aback by my sudden knowledge. They glance at each other, answering my question.

"Yes, definitely brothers. But the father figure. What about the father figure? It's not shared, the deaths of your respective fathers. They died differently. Accidents, yes, but the circumstances were unalike. That father figure..."

I turn around to pace the length of the kitchen, back and forth, my heels clicking against the hardwood floors as I process everything.

Brothers don't do this kind of thing for their brothers. Nightwing is no ring leader. Even though he trusts him...

"Nightwing trusts you. Why does Batman trust you? When I said father you drew your gun. Is that it? Is he your father figure?" I watch him square his shoulders like he wants to fight. I smirk, "I'm right, but there is still death there, between you and him."

"Enough!" Nightwing snaps. "DA Meadow it's been a long day for you. Maybe you should get some sleep." Boy please, this is a day in the life.

I give a little mirth, before I walk out. It's hard not to jump up and down whilst I'm fighting off the adrenaline of reading someone so well. Someone with a helmet on, no less.

Understanding criminals, people, has been a goal of mine for a while now. It's logical that understanding them means preventing them. It's an opinion Batman and I share.

I know I can understand them because I used to be one.

But maybe invading their privacy isn't the way to go about it...

Published: 12 May 2015

Final Edit: 23 September 2019