"The place is called Corvo. It's some kind of speakeasy. Landlord said he bounces the late shift." Dick explained to the two as they got out of the car.

Eleanor had left her jacket at the building they were borrowing leading to her having to carry her phone in her hand with her fake ID and bank card tucked between the phone and case.

"That's too bad. Bouncers are assholes."

"So not true, if you're nice they're nice." Eleanor disagreed looking at the teenage boy next to her. He turned to look at her, disagreement on his face.

"Clay's not bad. And how would you know, anyway?" Dick asked looking over at the two.

"Uncle Ray would take me to bars with him all the time when I was little. Everyone thought it was cute, until it wasn't. He was a fun drunk, then he'd get stupid, then he'd stay throwing punches. Then the bouncers would kick our assess out."

"I mean zero offence when I say this, but if you're uncle is causing a scene they have to kick him out. Technically they shouldn't of let him in with you." Eleanor spoke, her voice low as she wrapped her arms around her waist. She really should have warn her jacket.

"Where were your folks?"

"Mum was upstate, dad was downstate. Uncle Ray was the man until he OD'd when I was thirteen."

"Where'd you go?"

"Wherever. Foster care. In and out if the system, then the streets mostly after that." Dick and Eleanor gave the boy walking between them emphatic looks. He chuckled. "It's not all bad, I survived."

"Life and death isn't a measurement of how bad or good something is."

"Well, look, Princess—"

Eleanor shivered uncomfortable at the word, her uncles voice echoing around her fragile mind. "Don't call me that, please."

"Sorry. Look, we're living the dream."

Eleanor shrugged as Dick knocked on a door. The bouncer slid across a thing, meeting eyes with Dick whilst the other two stood side by side slightly behind.

Dick pulled out his cop badge. "Clay Williams working tonight?"

"VIP lounge."

"Okay."

The bouncer opened the door and let Dick in. Jason and Eleanor were stopped. Jason handed the man his fake ID.

"There a problem?"

"Robert Plissken? Nice try."

"Come on, man. Be cool."

"Not tonight, Snake."

"I'm nineteen!

The bouncer turned to Eleanor. She flashed him a sweet smile. She slipped her case off her phone and grabbed her fake ID, placing her thumb over her her bank card to make sure it didn't slide away and that he wouldn't see 'Shelby' written on it.

She handed over her ID, putting her phone case on.

"Eleanor Rigby?" The man asked, trying to work out why the name was so familiar.

"That's my name." She smiled sweetly, touching some of her hair behind her ear.

"I've heard that name."

"Oh? Well, I was in a scandal a few years ago. My boyfriend, Tim McGraw, at the time had been declared missing, I was like main suspect, until he returned home a few months later, of course. Get this, turns out he was sleeping with Billie Jean and my friend Nancy Mulligan. My cousin, Grace Kelly, she found out and told me everything. Wished he'd gone missing for good when I found out."

She was surprised the bouncer hadn't clocked that her name was the title of a Beatles song, nor noticed that all the names she just used were from songs.

But her made up story, change of voice and the look that forged interest towards him had gotten her in, as her voice distracted him from properly checking everything.

"Right, come in." He said handing her back her ID.

"Thank you, sir." She said lowly, squeezing his arm as she walked past with a teasing wink. She stood next to Dick, slipping her fake ID between her phone and phone case, and took out her bank card before putting her phone in Dick's pocket.

"Okay, well, stay here. We'll be right back." Dick told Jason.

Eleanor slipped away from Dick, slipping her bank card into her bra before taking a seat at the bar.

A man sat beside her, offering to buy her a drink — she allowed him with a gentle smile as she played with her pink hair.

She shared small talk with him. He seemed nice at first.

"So, how's a girl like you end up in a place like this?"

"A girl like me?" She questioned with a small giggle, sipping on her whiskey and coke. "What does that mean."

"Oh, you know. Hot and pretty at the same time."

"I think all the girls are hot and pretty in here." She said, ignoring the way his hand brushed the side off her leg.

"Yeah, well none of them look just like you." He said, resting his hand on her thigh.

"Look, I'm thankful for the drink but I don't really like where you hand is." She said politely, staring at his hand. She felt endangered as she placed down her empty glass.

"Come on, sweetheart, you're asking for it with that dress."

"Okay, no I'm fucking not, you dick. So take your fucking hand of my thigh, yeah?"

"No."

Eleanor grabbed her glass, darkened thoughts of slamming it into his face. But she froze as his hand began to move, his thumb rubbing her exposed skin.

This was no longer a stranger, as she saw flickers of her uncle. Of a monster who took advantage of the innocent.

"Please stop." She whispered, tears pricking in her eyes as her voice wobbled.

Eleanor wasn't sure where he came from, but in a few seconds of torture Jason Todd was at her side. "Why you touching my sister?" He questioned, having assessed the fear in Eleanor.

"Beat it, kid."

"Get you hand of her." Jason warned against his voice low.

Eleanors hands had tried to peal him off of her.

"Do you want me to kick your ass?" The man said, standing up. He was some bit taller then Jason.

"I want you to try."

Eleanor adjusted the skirt of her dress, trying to pull it down as much as she could. Even with shorts underneath she felt scared and unprotected and exposed.

Jason shoved the man.

Eleanor sighed, beaconing the bartender over. "Another coke and whiskey, please."

The man made it for her before she payed with her card.

She was mostly hoping the whiskey would push off her nerves and fear. Since moving out of her uncles home two years ago (and him being arrested for child abuse a little while later) she thought she was safe from creepy men. She was of course wrong.

She didn't slowly drink this glass. She downed as much of it as she could at a time before Dick pushed Jason away from the man. He didn't know what had happened.

"Back the fuck off. I got this."

"Jason—"

"Can we go, please?" Eleanor asked, slipping off her chair, and looking at Dick pleadingly.

"We have to."

"I honestly wouldn't blame Jason for this one." Eleanor defended the fellow teen before an explosion caused a lot of glass to be thrown around.

"Clay, call nine one one."

Dick grabbed ahold of both teenagers, dragging them outside.

"I think we got lucky."

Eleanor had fallen silent, her arms wrapped around herself and her head down. She adjusted her dress frequently and untucked her hair.

Yet another dress she'd have to throw away because a man ruined it for her. Many of her favourite dresses were tainted with memories of her uncle and this one of a strange man.

Dick's phone began to ring, so he answered it. He looked around. "Who are you? . . . It's not possible. . . . Because you're dead. . . . Where's Clay?" And then he was hung up on.

"Who was that?" Jason asked.

"I killed his father."

"The guy who murdered your parents?" Jason asked as he and the girl followed after the man. "That's a win either way you look at it. One less scumbag of the face of the planet. Man, that must have felt awesome."

"Yeah, that's the problem." Dick turned around, causing the three to stop. "Hey, you want my advice? Don't be Robin. All those years Bruce was helping me, he was turning me into a weapon. His weapon. And he may have you convince that you can get everything you ever wanted, but you can't unlearn what he teaches you, and you can't control it. Believe me, the price is too high." His phone beeps and Dick opens up a message. "I gotta go."

"Where?"

"I gotta take care of this by myself." Dick said, pulling Eleanors phone out of his pocket and handing it back to her.

Jason and Eleanor watched him leave.

"I'm gonna head back, assuming you're going after Dick?"

Jason didn't answer her at first. "Are you okay?" He questioned, turning to the pink haired girl.

"Yeah, why?"

"No, seriously. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm cool. Why you asking?" She laughed, acting ad if nothing happened.

"You were just touched up at the bar."

"That didn't happen." She laughed, shaking her head at him.

"Yes it did."

"No, it didn't, you're making it up." She said, a pleading undertone in her voice for him to stop asking.

"You can't gaslight me."

"I'm not!"

"Then tell me the truth."

Eleanor shook her head, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Listen, Jason, I have enough trauma as it is. Nothing happened, okay? I have enough sexual assault stories in my life, let's not add another. Plus, don't worry about me, I literally cannot kill myself, so we're all fine."

"Why don't we report him? I'll speak if you're uncomfortable. When you're ready, obviously. Like we could write down or sketch out what he looks like to make sure if it goes blurry people know what to look for."

"Right, and the police won't laugh when eighteen year old girl with a fake ID got into a club for twenty one year olds and older and has drank two glasses of coke and whiskey, has had many shrinks declare I'm borderline insane, is wearing a short dress and heels and claims a five foot ten, muscular white man with brown hair and hazel eyes tried to assault me. I will get laughed the fuck out of there." The girl shrugged. "I'm gonna catch a cab, pass me your phone."

Jason passed over his phone. She unlocked it, connecting both devices to each other on 'Life 360' and linking them up before giving him her number, as well as typing his into her phone.

"I will send a picture of the reg plate. If I need saving I'll put SOS, I'll also text when I get back. Our phones are now trackers for one another. Good luck."

With that the pink haired girl disappeared down the street.