Chapter Text
It was a quiet night in Gotham. They were rare, and usually too good to be true. The last “quiet night” had been a cover for Scarecrow rigging the city’s water system with his new liquid-soluble fear gas. It took a month to clean up completely.
Still, Tim wasn’t about to take the time to breathe for granted. He had perched himself on an old church’s dome, right next to a gargoyle, waiting for Cass and Dick to come around with mid-patrol coffee.
“Caffeine acquired,” Nightwing’s voice came over the com-link. “Where are we?”
Tim sent his location digitally, not wanting to break the rare silence. The stars were out and everything. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to see the city sky.
“Hellooo?” Dick asked again. “I’ve got pings from everyone but Robin. Come on, kid, don’t you want your hot chocolate?”
“Shut up,” Damian replied.
“Alright, guess I’ll come find you myself! Double-B will head your way first, Red.”
Tim lay back, breathing in cold air. He patted the gargoyle’s wing and traced constellations with his eyes. There was Orion, Scorpio, the Pleiades, the—wait, he didn’t actually recognize that one. A pink star—no, planet. It was too bright to be a star, and not twinkling. A pink-tinged planet hung between Maia and Caleano, so small in the night sky, but so obvious once he’d noticed it. Had the Justice League done something to create a new planet recently? It wouldn’t be the first time, and they’d certainly had enough gloomy weather lately that he might not have noticed. Tim was just pulling up a scanner to get a reading of the new celestial object when Cass leaned over him, smiling and holding a travel tray of coffees.
She cocked her head. “Thirsty?”
“In a sec,” Tim said, not wanting to lose his bearing on the planet. “Look up there.”
Cass glanced up. “Stars are out,” she said. “Pretty.”
“Well yeah, but that’s not the point. Look.” He pointed. “Between those two stars. Was that there before?”
She turned back towards him and shrugged. Tim sighed.
“Whatever,” he said. “Thanks for the coffee.” Cass cheerfully handed him a very large travel cup. He took a sip—black, like his soul.
“Strong. Extra shots,” Cass told him. Ah, so Dick had sprung for espresso this time, nice. Cass placed the cup holder tray on the arched rooftop and sat next to him, sipping from her own travel cup.
“Weren’t you taking that one to Hood?” Tim asked, nodding towards the remaining coffee.
“He can wait.” She stared up at the stars.
Tim chuckled at that. “He might kill you,” he warned.
“Not over coffee. That’s you.”
“Fair.” Tim let himself lean into the gargoyle and turned his gaze to the mystery planet again. “What do you think, Rocky? Was that planet there before?” He patted the statue on the head and his glove came away shimmering. “What the fuck?”
Cass nudged him and he held his hand out for her to look. She cocked her head and stood, dragging a finger along the carved stone of the gargoyle. Her glove also picked up a layer of glitter. She rubbed it between her index finger and thumb, spreading it around. She sniffed the mystery powder, but was smart enough not to taste it. Cass shrugged.
Tim inspected his own hand. It was definitely not any kind of commercial craft glitter. The particles were so small he couldn’t tell them apart in the dark, and yet the stuff was sparkling like it was broad daylight. It was also slightly color-shifting, but between colors he almost couldn’t identify, either because his brain couldn’t process them or because of the dark. He hoped it was the latter.
Logic told Tim it was probably just a weird oxidation residue on the crumbling stone. Experience told him it could just as easily be some alien or magic bullshit. Likely harmless in such small amounts, but there was no real way of knowing.
Well, better safe than sorry. He took a quick sample of the dust in a vial pulled from his utility belt, and then took off his shimmering glove, turning it inside out for good measure. Cass did the same when he looked at her, not questioning it.
A quick lap of the roof revealed more dust on all of the other gargoyles, but nowhere else. So it wasn’t a strange new weather pattern, okay. It also probably wasn’t oxidation, considering the rest of the building was made of the same stone as the statues.
“Well that’s fucking weird,” Tim said. He shook his head. “Better get Hood his coffee, huh?” Cass nodded.
“Come with?” she asked.
“Sure, why not?”
They were halfway there when Robin started shouting expletives over the com-link.
The silence was infuriating. He’d stopped one mugging and one attempted break-in which turned out to be a drunk college kid trying to get into the wrong building. It was nearly one in the morning, and the most exciting part of Damian’s night was almost getting puked on by a frat boy. He was strongly considering screaming.
Batman was off-world, and he’d understandably packed things up as well as he could before he left. But really, not a single criminal thought they’d act up while he was gone? Did they not think the rest of them were enough of a challenge?
Damian didn’t want to have a peaceful patrol with everyone else. He wanted to be a force of justice, and no one was letting him! He just about broke his communicator out of frustration when Grayson called for his location, and he nearly ripped any locator out of his suit in defiance when he ignored his desire to be left alone. Which was foolish, so he didn’t, but he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to wallow in peace.
The mind-numbing monotony was probably the only reason he noticed them: half a dozen teenage girls, chatting amongst themselves as they wandered the quiet streets. They were maybe Drake’s age, and clothed in a way that was in no way appropriate for the late fall weather. Not that it was appropriate for Gotham in any weather. They were going to get kidnapped, sexually assaulted, or—at best—mugged dressed in such flashy colors—and did all of them have their midriffs showing?
No, only half of them, he realized as he continued to tail them. And he supposed he couldn’t really judge their fashion choices when he was also dressed like a traffic light. His boredom was truly getting the best of him if he was paying so much attention to some random civilians. But still, keeping a watchful eye on them was better than sitting around waiting for Nightwing to find and pester him. And the more he observed, the more of their… unusual conversation he was able to hear.
“Nothing,” one was saying. “There were those stone monsters this morning, but still no sign of him . Are we sure we’ve made it to the right place?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re called gargoyles,” the redhead told her with a laugh. “And they had his mark, so he must be around here somewhere.”
“But we’ve been looking everywhere.” This time it was the one with pigtails. “How do we know he didn’t just leave them here as a distraction and then disappear again? He’s done it before.”
“It’s a big city,” the dark-skinned girl pointed out. “We shouldn’t expect to find him in one day.”
“Let’s just get back to where we’re staying. It won’t do us any good to tire ourselves out.” This teen was the most soft-spoken by far. Damian had to strain to hear her, even as he’d snuck close.
“Please!” the blonde whined. “I’m so tired, and I’m still not convinced this hasn’t all been one big nightmare.”
Perfect. They were heading to a hideout. Damian’s original assumption that they were civilians was being called into suspicion as he watched. The first one didn’t know what gargoyles were, and the phone-like device she kept tapping away at didn’t look like standard consumer tech. Their voces carried an obscure accent he couldn’t identify, despite all his training and knowledge, and they weren’t shivering in the night air. He couldn’t risk getting close enough to know for sure, but if they were aliens or metas, they might be able to generate an excess of heat or otherwise fend off the cold.
He also wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this shadowy character they were discussing. If they worked for him, they could be forming a new gang or cult or something of that kind. If they were against him, he needed to know why. It would influence which side he advised Batman to take if it escalated.
Damian ducked out of his alleyway scouting spot and began to scale the nearest building to tail them from above. Began being the operative word, as Grayson’s smug face greeted him on the roof. He was brandishing a paper cup with a lid and grinning wolfishly.
“Well, look at you, Robin,” he said, sauntering over. “Has my baby bird finally developed an eye for the ladies?”
Damian was not going to dignify that with an answer. “I was told you had a drink for me.”
Nightwing shook his head and held the cup above his head. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted. “Not until you share this coming-of-age moment with your big brother. Which one is it, then?” Damian crossed his arms and glared at him. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to be such a player, they have to be like, seven years older than you, at least!”
His face was growing warm. “They do appear to be roughly the same age as Red Robin, you are correct.”
Grayson was still grinning, but even if he hadn’t been, he was gloating with every twist of his posture. “Come on, you can tell me. Personally, I thought the ginger was the best catch, but you’d probably go with one with more edge, huh?”
“They are civilians, not objects, Nightwing.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved him off, “but come on! This is your first crush, right? I gotta know.”
Damian finally snapped. “I do not have a crush! I was making sure they didn’t get mugged!” He stopped himself from mentioning his suspicions that they might not be simple civilians. He had not received enough information to go spreading the rumor. The others would think him childish if it turned out he was overreacting.
“Sure,” Nightwing said, tilting his head in a way that indicated he was winking under his mask. He finally handed Damian the now-lukewarm chocolate drink. He was too busy drinking it down as quickly as he could to notice Grayson’s hand moving towards his communicator until it was too late. “Hey everyone, Robin’s finally got a crush."
Damian cut him off as quickly as he could, lunging at him, spitting curses as he clawed up Grayson’s chest to shut off the communication link.
Alfred greeted them back in the Batcave, chastising Damian and Dick for being inexplicably covered in the dried remnants of Damain’s hot chocolate. They were ushered off to the showers as Tim set the computer to analyze the strange shimmering powder. The database was huge—Tim didn’t expect to get an answer until morning. But within minutes, the machine was pinging out results: unidentified.
Unidentified, despite their records of just about every substance known to Earth and the Justice League. Not just unidentified, but unable to be broken down. It wasn’t a new synthesis of something they’d seen before. No, it was a complete mystery.
Just his luck.