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“Batgirl to Oracle. One more creep back in the creephouse. What's next?”
“You need not sound so enthusiastic, Brown. You were fortunate, not skilled.”
“You weren't even there,” Batgirl shot back. “Oh, I know. This is because Robin is scared of the big bad crocodile, isn't it? Did the nasty alligator almost bite you? What a shame he didn't swallow you whole and save us from the delight of your company—but then I bet he would have gotten indigestion, so he wouldn't.”
“I will gut you instead,” Robin said and Terry shook his head, still unable to believe that he shared D.N.A. with that dreg. “And you, too, Drake.”
It actually sounded like Red Robin was trying not to laugh. “Um. Right. Sure you will. Did you at least take down Killer Croc?”
“It's really not that funny,” Terry told them. “He almost cut that guy's head off. Who the hell gave him a sword?”
“Oh, now he's in trouble. He knows he's not allowed to carry that as Robin,” Batgirl said, and Terry watched Robin's hands ball into fists. He shook his head. This was going to get ugly soon. They didn't always talk like this during a crisis, did they? It must drive Oracle crazy.
“Uh, Oracle,” Terry began, swallowing. “Who else should we be looking for?”
“Hold on a moment, Batboy,” she said, and he cringed. “I'm monitoring weird activity on several police frequencies and trying to coordinate the Birds' landing.”
“What's up, O?” Red Robin asked, all business again. “Anything we should know about this activity?”
“She's not answering. It must be bad if she's not answering,” Batgirl said. She sighed. “Who else could it be? Red Hood took down the Joker, Harley, and Ivy. I got the Ventriloquist and Scarecrow—”
“Naturally the girl took out the doll. Were you jealous, Brown?”
“Seriously, Robin?”
“Scarface is dangerous. People follow his lead even though he is supposedly just a doll,” Red Robin said. “Don't make the mistake of underestimating anyone, Robin. That's when you get hurt or dead. And don't think you're immune to it just because of who your grandfather is.”
“Robin wasn't nicknamed Boy Hostage for nothing,” Batgirl agreed. “And remember, Red Hood was once Robin who was once killed by the Joker.”
“Killer Croc is down,” Red Robin went on. “So are Crazy Quilt and Calendar Man. We're all lucky that Bane and Hugo Strange weren't among the escapees. Who else does that leave us?”
“Freeze?”
“Batman would have sent one of us after him by now if he was out.” Red Robin let out a breath. “Well, that could have been who he asked Catwoman to take since she didn't have any trouble with Calendar Man.”
“Um,” Terry began, giving Robin another glance before clearing his throat and speaking again, “am I the only one who has noticed that—well—that no one has heard from Batman since he went after Two-Face? Alone?”
“Relax, Batboy. You're almost as bad as the demon spawn,” Red Hood said, scorn carrying through the communicator. “If Batman were down, we'd know.”
“Red Hood's right,” Red Robin said, though with him Terry though he was almost trying to convince himself at the same time. Tim was worried. “We'd have heard by now if Batman was injured or taken captive. Right, Oracle?”
“Sorry,” the computerized voice finally spoke again. “I've just heard about a few more escapees, and I sent Black Canary and Huntress after two of them. In the mean time, I've figured out what's going on with the police frequencies—”
“More of them got Jokerized than we realized?”
“No, but the Mad Hatter is free.”
“Damn,” Red Robin said. “Are we sure he was able to get at the cops? It's not his usual style and it would take a while to get that many—”
“Time he had while we were dealing with other threats,” Oracle said. “I need all of you—except you, Red Hood, I don't think sending you against cops is a good idea even if they're mind controlled—to get to police headquarters. Make sure that Commissioner Gordon hasn't been compromised. And find a way to disable the devices quickly, without killing anyone. So far, I've had no success locating any kind of remote signal, which means whatever Hatter's doing is localized and he's likely on site, but I can't confirm that because cameras are down and reports are... sketchy.”
“We're on our way, O,” Batgirl said, and Terry assumed the “we” meant her and Red Robin even as Robin started moving again. Terry forced himself to follow the other boy. He didn't have much choice. He didn't know this version of Gotham, and he didn't want to get lost and humiliated like that.
“Red Hood?” Oracle's voice was computerized, so Terry had to be imagining the strain in it.
“Yeah?” Terry didn't have to imagine the belligerence in that guy's voice, though.
“Feel like dealing with Clayface?”
Red Hood snorted. “You already owe me.”
“And Alfred already made cookies.”
“Damn. Normally I'm not that easy,” Red Hood said, and Terry almost agreed about how schway those cookies were, but he figured he'd better not say anything right now. “But between that and Golden Boy admitting he killed the Joker once—Fine. I'll deal with Clayface. At least him I can shoot.”
“Hurry up, pretender,” Robin called to Terry. “If you are much later, there will be nothing for you to deal with. Again.”
“You know what, kid? Batman must be a saint to put up with you. Anyone else would have killed you by now,” Terry muttered to himself, and he had to curse inwardly when he heard laughter over the comms and got another death threat from his half-brother.
“Please tell me these cops are not all mind controlled,” Stephanie said, looking down at the crowd in front of police headquarters. The signal light was on, and that didn't seem like a good sign at all. Not only was Dick late answering it and missing from all the conversations about where to go and what was going on, but it had to be a trap now, didn't it? If the cops were mind-controlled, luring Batman here—he'd be killed if he showed his face near that light.
“We haven't seen anything yet to make it clear that they are being controlled,” Tim said, and she almost shoved him. They were cops. Arkham crazies had escaped, and the cops were just standing there. Of course they were being controlled. “They haven't done anything yet.”
“So... if we toss Robin out there and they attack him, we'll have our answer?” Stephanie asked, and she thought Tim was trying to give her a look but he wanted to do it just as badly as she did, and she knew it.
“I swear, you will all—”
“I'm reading a lot of conflicting signals here,” Batboy said. “There's definitely something electronic going on—”
“You mean like cellphones?”
“No, the suit can actually tell the difference,” Batboy answered, annoyed. “I think if you could get the readings from it, Oracle, you could probably find a way to shut down all the devices remotely.”
“I've been working on it, but I don't know if the technology includes a failsafe that will damage the mind or the body of the person wearing it. We need one of the devices to study, and this is not Hatter's style, either.”
“There's not many hats here. Almost none,” Red Robin agreed. “If he's using hats, he'd only have a few of the officers under control, but this looks like the whole force.”
“And it's not some weird computer rewiring of the brain, right?” Stephanie asked with a shudder.
“No, it's not,” Barbara answered on the other end, though her voice was still computerized for Batboy's sake, and Stephanie missed the sound of her unaltered voice. “We'll need one of the chips to do an analysis of—I can't isolate the frequency that Hatter is using. I'd almost say it was different for each device—”
“My suit's readings disagree with that,” Batboy said. “It's picking up several on the same frequency but that frequency... changes? That's what it's doing. It's switching, trying to keep from being hacked.”
“Well, O, we all know you're famous,” Batgirl said. “I guess someone really didn't want you to fix this the easy way.”
“It's not the easy way,” Oracle disagreed. “And unless Hatter teamed up with Calculator—”
“Whoa,” Stephanie said, missing the rest of what Babs said as Batman suddenly appeared in the middle of the cops, landing right next to the commissioner. She knew it was just a party trick—they all knew it; hell, they all did it, but sometimes the original suit was was just a little more impressive than others—and she hadn't been expecting it this time though maybe she should have.
Batman took the commissioner's glasses and broke them in his hand, holding up a small chip after he was done.
The commissioner blinked, putting a hand to his head. “Batman?”
“I owe you a new pair of glasses,” Batman told him. “I'm going to need you to fill us in on your department, quickly. We need to know what's important to each officer. Something they always wear or have on them. Hatter isn't using hats this time.”
“My glasses,” Gordon said, mouth in a thin line.
“Yes. And judging from the sophistication of this particular plan and its targets, the other Arkham escapees were a distraction.” Batman's eyes turned to the crowd. “Oracle—or Batboy, whichever of you can give me an answer first—do we have someone here that matches the physical description of the Hatter?”
Batboy answered first. “A couple of them but I'm too far away for a D.N.A. analysis for confirmation.”
Tim almost sounded jealous. “Your suit does that?”
“Yes,” Batboy said, annoyed. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“It isn't,” Oracle said. “I can give you details about the officers in—where are you going?”
Batman pointed his grappling hook at another building. “Admit it, O. This isn't anything like the way Hatter usually works. And for a master puppeteer not to be pulling the strings, something even uglier than Hatter is out there. I think I know who it is.”
“Batman—”
“Help the police get rid of Hatter's influence, get Hatter, and regroup with the Birds to round up the last of the escapees.”
“Fine,” Batboy said. “But after this—I want a new codename. I earned it.”
“You're on a private line. Just the two of us.”
“Cozy,” Dick observed, looking down at the city, feeling the wind lifting the cape and trying to ignore it. Sometimes he really hated it. He missed the freedom of Nightwing. He missed being himself. He wasn't sure he remembered when the last time he'd felt like himself was. Before Bruce died, he supposed, but that was an easy out—he wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd been himself even before Bruce died. “Like the good old days.”
She was quiet for a moment, and Dick grimaced. That was the wrong choice of words. He probably sounded like he was living in the past again.
“I miss him,” Dick admitted. “Sometimes this feels like... too much.”
“Speaking of too much,” Babs began, worry creeping into her voice. “There a reason you keep separating yourself from everyone and taking on the worst of Arkham alone?”
“I'm Batman?”
She actually laughed. “I suppose that's true, but it's not as much like you as it was like him. You don't have to be him to be Batman. You already know this.”
“I'm fine.”
“And I know you better than that. I know the way your voice changes when you're happy. When you're fighting. When you're hurt. When you're—I know your voice. Even when you're using the Batman voice. I know it. I know the changes in tone and inflection. What happened with Two-Face?”
“He's down.”
“Dick.” Her voice was a warning, and he sighed.
“It's nothing. He just... almost got me with something he tricked me with as a kid, and I am still pissed at myself for almost falling for it. Again,” Dick said, closing his eyes for a moment. “I think this is Hush, Babs. I need you to find him for me. Fast.”
“And?”
She really did know him too well. He shook his head, preparing to move again. “Anything from the Justice League?”
“We're not the only ones with a crisis.”
“Damn it.”
“They'll come. Just give it time. You have other things to worry about first.”
“I know, but I couldn't keep him in the cave and the idea of how much damage this could be doing to time streams and dimensions—”
“Priorities, Paranoid Wonder. One thing at a time. I'll let you know if anything changes. In the meantime—be careful.”
“Always, Babs.”
She snorted, and he laughed as he took off into the night.