Svetlana was fucking gone. Damian Wayne was fucking lost — mentally, physically he was in the Batcave staring down Tim who had previously been getting ready for a date with his boyfriend but was now forced to move down to the Batcave.

It was cold and down there sat Jason in a dark corner polishing a crowbar as he stared threateningly at Tim Drake.

Poor Tim felt very threatened today. Not only was the demon brat staring him down, Jason was creepily watching him as he polished his weapon of choice. He was laying down his guns — something about a no killing rule.

Tim was sure today would be his last day. The two who were not above killing were staring him down as he logged into the laptop.

He spun in his chair. "Ok, what have I done."

"It's Friday."

"Ok?"

"Virgil and I spend Fridays together."

"I'm not taking him away from you."

"Yes you are." Jason decided, weighing up the crowbar in his hand. "We always go to his parents on Friday."

Tim realised Jason was scared — scared his best friend was going to leave him for his 'replacement'. "Jason, I'm not stealing Virgil from you. If you think I'm crossing a line you should tell me."

"Ok, you're crossing a line. The line is about to have your head smashed in."

Tim scratched the back of his neck. "You know what, I'll deal with this problem later. Damian, why do you look like you want to kill my? Where's Dick when you need him?"

"You are taking to long to log in. Svetlana could be long dead." Damian seethed, his foot tapping the floor harshly.

Tim looked at the teenager and back at the computer, his arms moving around. There wasn't much he could do the computer was being slow.

Damian began to pace, allowing Tim to breath and not feel like daggers were about to be pulled to his neck (though that was still an option the youngest was considering).

"Why do you come to me with things I can't control?" Tim questioned to himself. He typed up 'Svetlana Orlova' finding a file Damian had helped write up. Though, he had refused until she had consented and said she understood why he was doing it.

Name: Svetlana Orlova (named by herself in 2016, aged 11. First name: n/a. Second name: fathers last name 'Orlov' & common enough)
Age: 15 (2/17/2020. Birthday 9/17/2005 — or so she thinks, dates are foggy)
Alias: Agent Thirteen (Агент тринадцать - Russian translation. Russian assassin, born and raised until 11 when she ran away to Gotham)
Family: biological parents unknown, last name Orlov. Adopted parents, Amara & Reginald Oswald. No known siblings or other family members.
Description: blonde hair and big bright blue eyes and pale (practically white) skin — genetic modification prior to birth in order to make her the perfect child assassin. 'A13' tattoo on right side of rib cage. Often bruised, many scar wounds. Doll like features (see photos). Double pierced lobes and helix and conch.
Notes: trained in hand to hand and weapon combat. Able to take down Robin (not that he's willing to admit it). Trained since birth. Killed many, including her biological parents. Possibly had to lore victims when not doing actual killing. Lives in Crime Alley. Is often accompanied with a gun. Russian accent, speaks several languages (Russian and English confirmed). Raised in Russian.

Tim scrolled through her information, having read it plenty of times. He grabbed up a photo of her — a recent one that had gone around twitter when people were calling her many names — and dragged it to the cringe of the screen.

He pressed buttons on his keyboard, using his mouse to navigate until he found Crime Alleys very limited amount of security cameras. He really hoped for the sake of his brother that they'd find Svetlana in simple ways.

Tim glanced at Damian, the boy was quietly talking to Jason. The two seemed to be getting along.

Jason spoke to the teenager, cold and empty promises. Promises he meant. They'd find Svetlana. Sure, the Demon Brat wasn't his favourite person, but no one deserved to suffer like he was.

Tim turned back to the screen, skipping time. But of course the teenager just had to live where there were no security cameras. He recognised the area, it was a five minute walk from Virgil's parents — not that he had ever been.

Virgil appeared next to his lover, his curly hair weighed down with water. "She lives near me, house behind. She climbed over my fence holding a gun, strange girl."