There had been another confrontation, in the Blue Dragon this time. Creatures of the seas being threatened by shifters. It appeared that the warning had gone unheeded. What was worse, having heard the reports of fights in his club started by the shifters, the owner had done nothing whatsoever. Zeela brought the news to Jason with frustration welling tears in her almond eyes. The community of sea-dwellers was small enough in the preternaturals living on Earth, leave alone those of the Dark affiliation: sea-dwellers had been one of the species of humanoids not to chose sides until millennia after the last Great War of Dark and Light, only once they'd started visiting Earth and spending more time on the land of other realms- those from Zeela's cove had aligned themselves with the Dark less than a thousand years ago, and the sea-dwellers had been shunned by the more...passionate Dark. Such passion was consistent throughout the Dark shifter divisions.

Before the visit of his dear old dad (an interesting experience) Zeela had told him of the events in the Blue Dragon- choking up at the mention of one of her kind, Mazil, falling victim to the claws of a shifter. As Jason made sure his guns were properly loaded, Zeela talked sense in to him to call Damian and Raven before doing anything too rash (a very big disappointment).

Their response was, per usual, 'we will deal with it'.

How happy that made Jason.

After being coaxed in to getting takeaway for the two of them, the trigger-happy man went grumbling off the Chinese down the road (his reservations about leaving her alone were so strong that he needed five minutes of her pushing him out of the door to see sense and finally leave).

Fast forward half an hour and Jason was attempting the death-defying feat of looking Alfred Pennyworth in the eyes. The butler was not amused. And yet, standing in front of one another besides the Batmobile in the Batcave, Alfred's expression softened and his arms wrapped around his grandson. As a kick-ass, gun-slinging, anti-hero, Jason Todd would never admit it, but he melted straight in to Alfred's embrace, transported back to his naïve teenage self. Crisply pressed uniform and impeccable manners, that was Mr Pennyworth. Special cookies, hot chocolate when you're blue and vintage forties cologne- that was Alfred.

Regretfully, the butler relinquished his hold on Jason, one hand still on the man's shoulder as he sighed, "It's good to have you home Master Jason."

Stopping himself from choking up, Jason replied, "Yeah, good to see you Al.". He snapped straight up, eyes wide as they rummaged through his pockets, "Shitshitshitshitshiiiiit!", he pulled out his phone, "I-uh", Jason looked for a way to explain whilst Alfred raised a brow at his vulgar language, "I need to call someone."

Batman swivelled around in his Batchair (TRADEMARK).

Cowl removed, Bruce flicked his eyes up at the screen, "That someone."

Jason's eyes were on fire as he looked up at the Batcomputer screen, showing images of Zeela. She was pictured leaving the Blue Dragon, in one of her usual iridescent dresses, and again stepping out of an alley -this time, concealed beneath a large black cloak, hiding most of her bluish flesh-, once more stepping out of his apartment with her waves of hair tamed in to an elegant chignon matched with another dazzling shift.

He had known Batman too long to ask 'how did you know?' so settled for a short and sweet, "Fuck you Bruce."

Alfred clicked his tongue, "Language, Master Jason."

***

Raven perched herself on the owner's desk: her unfazed response to his narrowed eyes and venomous words. Max Leiwandowsky was a man that kept himself within the higher circles of the Dark, owning a club for the average and sitting in the club of the elites. Owning one of the three main hangouts for the Dark preternatural (that Blue Dragon) had built quite the reputation for Mr Leiwandowsky...that, and his tendency to break troublemakers in his club- a fearsome man in his own right.

With his skin holding complexion resemblant of a concrete (and with the same texture), eyes literally stone cold and manners better suited for the seventeen-hundreds, Mr Leiwandowsky was the perfect specimen of a gargoyle. Their numbers had seen a drastic increase a few hundred years ago in Eastern Europe (mass immigration for various reasons) and the Leiwandowsky name had entered itself in the business of leisure for many a century.

"What is the meaning of this?", his vowels, though elongated, were as harsh as his eyes as he demanded an answer.

Drumming her fingers on the table (vintage, like most other furnishings in the room), Raven said, "Do you know what's been happening in the Blue Dragon recently?"

Leiwandowsky looked between her and the silent man leaning against his wall, next to a framed painting of the Battle of the Dwarf Clans (230CE). Not human- either of them. The one in front of him, purple cloak and purple eyes, smelt every bit a part-demon; the other, the male, was a little more confusing than that. Mr Leiwandowsky straightened his tie- making sure it was tucked impeccably in to his waistcoat- and searched the man again, coming to the understanding that he was much younger than the first glance eluded too. A second look between the two of them, and Leiwandowsky's eyes widened.

That green.

Rarest of all shades this side of Hell.

And it dawned upon him...

"My sincerest apologies,", his social graces flew back to him, "your highnesses. I hadn't expected any callers, least of all of such stature.", Raven stood up, only to be stopped by him pulling on the charm, "Oh no, please, do be my guest. My desk is yours."

The gargoyle stepped back, his taunting niceties staining the air distastefully, "Perhaps I should bring a chair for your lordship?", he directed towards Damian.

Not re-perching herself on his desk, Raven eased, "We aren't here to assert status-given authority, Mr Leiwandowsky. If you've heard anything of either reputations, you should know as much."

Walking around the mahogany table, sitting back in his chair and setting his feet on the desk (his Oxfords matching the furniture's colour), the gargoyle knitted his fingers, "Let me see, what do I know of your reputations?", he tilted his head, "Ah, it's come to me in an instant. 'Souls scarred by bloodshed' was the way I've heard it put, yes. Instantly proving status over others the moment you re-entered our world a few years ago: as I recall, that fight between yourself, your Demonicness, and the witch Marlena took place in my establishment two years ago; and your associates engage in frequent brawls and unsavoury behaviour also in my establishment. Then there's the famous matter of the recent commotion with the Council, ending with peace talks," he said the word with disgust on his face, "More so, your affiliation with the superhero community of this realm.", he huffed, "Not to mention you brought a human in the Blue Dragon- the infamous 'Batman'."

To Damian's surprise, Leiwandowsky chuckled, "Quite the reputation indeed.", he unfolded his fingers, "So, what did you wish to speak with me about (you could have booked an appointment with my secretary, I am a busy man after all, I do run three human businesses as well as the Blue Dragon)?"

Damian cleared his throat, "It's the shifters, they've been causing trouble-"

***

All was still in the Blue Dragon. No creature within four feet of the gargoyle dared to shift a muscle. Behind the ones closest to him, Dark creatures shoved past one another to get a view of the scene, many sinking back at the sheer formidability of the stone-like being. On first standing in his presence (in his luxurious office in the heart of Gotham's wealthiest zone) Damian had observed Mr Leiwandowsky's form as being thin and tall, he held himself with the grace expected of a being his age and class. Now, that decorum had fled him and the shadows seemed to welcome him as one of their own; the waistcoat and tie were present, but served only to accentuate the ferocity of his appearance with contrast.

Towering at his full height well over 6'5, the gargoyle bared granite fangs and challenged, "Who dared shed blood on my property?"

No shifters dared wimped a word...save one. The little gang's 'leader'. A bear shifter, late thirties, average in appearance save for a single, grizzly scar splitting his owed lip and ending at his chin. Greasy. Very greasy.

He tilted his head up to look Mr Leiwandowsky in the stone eyes, his own muddy brown orbs meek when faced with the gargoyle's unforgiving stare, "What're ya gonna do 'bout it?", that much bravado couldn't hide the fear in his voice.

Mr Leiwandowsky was old- even by preternatural terms- and powerful. Even the shifter and his gang together wouldn't be able to do as much as scratch him. Skin as tough as dragon-hide and stronger than a troll, gargoyles were a feared race, let alone one as aged as Leiwandowsky. This shifter was little more than a cub. By the scruff of his neck, the gargoyle hefted the shifter with one hand, clearing a path through the crowd with the other hand.

CRASH!

The shifter landed arse-first through the doors and straight in to a murky puddle. The doors swung back shut and the other shifters made themselves scarce, darting through the other exits that weren't barred by a fuming gargoyle looking for the next punk to test him.

Raven blinked twice, smiling wider than she'd done for a long while. And admirable fellow, Mr Leiwandowsky. She remarked as much to her associated sitting around the bar with her (the usual miscreants- Lahra, Jackson, Tyrone and Damian...and the new addition of Zeela, who'd received a call from Jason a few minutes prior).

When a deep voice chuckled, she looked up to see the gargoyle in front of them, dipping his head in respect. He turned his attention to the sea-dweller sipping daintily at a glass of spirits (dark-fae, blue wine, four-hundred years aged).

"I am deeply sorry,", he bowed his torso, hands clasped over his heart in the traditional gargoyle manner, offering respect, "for all the damages caused to yourself and others of your community. Had I known earlier-"

Zeela stood, offering him her people's sign of gratitude (the right hand clasping her left shoulder and her left hand around her wrist as she bowed her head), then lifted her head to say, "You have my gratitude, it was not your position to do so much for us and yet you did. Waters bless you."

He smiled, "Thank you young one.", and glanced at the two who had waltzed in to his office half-an-hour ago. Lips turned upwards, he bowed once more and took his leave, slipping back through the shadows.

***

Selina sighed, resting her head on Bruce's shoulder. Even after bringing Jason home and seeing the young man re-settle in to the Manor, Bruce's muscles were as tense as ever and the lines in his forehead said it all. Selina had suggested that they watch a movie together and abandoned Jason with Dick (punishment enough), but it seemed that Bruce couldn't let the day's stress go.

"Look, Bruce, I know how hard it-", Selina began.

She was stopped when he borderline-groaned, "What do I do, Selina?"

His arm still around her shoulder, Selina took his hand in hers, paying no mind to the film playing. Threading her fingers through his, she pressed a kiss to his hand, honesty in her dark eyes as she said, "What's wrong Bruce? You know you can tell me anything. Just get it out of your head.", she added, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it though."

Bruce sighed and his his head tilted backwards to stare at the Manor cinema's ceiling. Selina waited expectantly.

"I'm a failure as a parent."

She didn't interrupt, letting his get it all out.

"I pushed Dick away all those years ago, made him hate me for too long. Then Jason...even after he came back...I've failed to resolve anything with him. He barely trusts me. And Tim...the Joker...I've pushed him to the being and away from me time and time again. Stephanie...that's a minefield in itself. Not to even mention Duke- I haven't seen him in months, he's supposedly on a covert mission, maybe he's doing all in his power to avoid this awkward situation (his real father is still...). Then there's Damian. I don't know if he'll ever trust that I want only the best for him. Some days, he acts like my every word defines his life and character; other days, he's a step away from disowning himself."

Bruce chuckled disdainfully, "I'm praying I won't screw up Belladonna like the others. Cassandra's the only one I haven't ruined, and that's only because she already came worse for wear. What a legacy- five Robin's with more disorders because of me than the inmates at Arkham."

Selina pursed her lips, "No, that isn't true, Bruce. There have been-"

For the second time, she was cut short, this time due to a shrill beeping.

Batman was needed.

"I'm coming with you this time", Selina said, before Bruce had the chance to tell her he had to leave, "we can continue this conversation- besides, this should clear your head a little!"

A.N:

Well, I really ship BatCat. There will be much more of Selina and Bruce in the future.
What do you guys make of Mr Leiwandowsky? You might also be seeing more of him too.

Well, that's about all! Oh, and Eid Mubarak (for Tuesday/Wednesday) to any Muslim readers!

Thanks!

-Bats :3