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Chapter Text

Tim wakes up to the consistent beeping of a heart monitor and obnoxious white hospital lights. The blanket covering him is surprisingly soft though. He feels very little pain, which Tim thinks of as unusual, because he very much so remembers getting in Batman's way. And paying the price for it. Mostly, everything feels heavy. Even his thoughts feel heavy and thick. Tim also thinks he may have woken up a few times before but can’t really remember details. The last thing Tim can remember well is being thrown by batman.

For the past 8 months, Batman has been on a one-man crusade. Which he used to be before the first robin, but this time it's different. This time Batman has been beating criminals closer and closer to death. Small-time criminals, purse snatchers, petty thieves. All of them were beaten so badly, when before, Batman would've just caught them, zip tied them, and left them for the police pickup. Tim has evidence that 27 people have been permanently damaged by Batman. Because Batman is out of control. Batman is losing control. He no longer cares to hold back. And he no longer cares to avoid injury to himself either. Batman is on a one-man crusade where the ending is going to be either a criminal's death, or Batman's death.

Because Robin is dead.

The light to Batman's darkness. The joy to his stoicism. The symbol of hope in the shadow of the symbol of vengeance.

Robin is dead.

Gotham is grieving him.

And Batman is losing himself.

And Tim got himself put in the hospital because he tried to be like Robin. Because Batman needs help. Batman needs Robin. But Robin is dead. And Tim can't be Robin. He learned that.

Tim looks down and takes stock of his injuries. His left arm is casted from wrist to elbow and is also in a sling, keeping the limb still, he can feel a lot of wrappings around his torso, his left leg is raised and casted heavily all the way up to his thigh. He winces when he swallows, his throat hurts and feels tight. He can feel some kind of bandage wrapped around his head. An IV is taped on the the inside of his right elbow.

Reaching up with his right hand, Tim feels around the bandage, finding it to be thick and also finding his hair has been cut shorter.

Tim lifts his gaze, sweeps around the room. He has the sudden realization that he is not in Gotham anymore. Posters that are on the walls are not in english.

Oh no. Oh no. What happened? 

If I’m not in the US anymore, then my parents had me transferred, most likely to one of the hospitals that DI has trade agreements with. But that would’ve taken at the very least a few days to do. 

Was I in a coma?! How long has it been? How badly was I hurt…

Tim, of course, remembers exactly what happened. Well, he remembers until he fell unconscious. He followed Batman chasing a small-time and terrified thief to the roof of a building where he beat the man into unconsciousness, and then kept going. Tim tried to call out for him to stop, afraid Batman was going to kill the guy (who looked like a barely 20 year old and halfway dead). But when it seemed Batman couldn't hear him, Tim had approached and tried to get his attention.

“Batman, please stop,” Tim cried. “Please, Robin wouldn't--” 

Tim wasn't sure if it was his hand reaching towards the vigilante or the mention of Robin that caused it, but at that moment Batman had moved so quickly and had grabbed Tim by the throat and threw him across the roof with a roar of animalistic rage. Tim didn't have the time or good enough relaxes to try to catch himself as he smacked into the edge of the roof and tumbled right off the ledge. He remembers trying to grab the fire escape before landing on his left leg. He had tried to roll to distribute the force of the fall but couldn’t really manage it as he collapsed on his arm and shoulder. And finally his head smacked off the concrete of the alley. Then all he could process was pain. Pain. PAIN. Like stabbing and burning fire. Then he didn’t know anything else as he lost consciousness.

And that's where the memories cut off. Tim has no idea how he made it out of that alley. And now he’s in another country’s hospital.

Tim stares up at the ceiling as he tries to come to terms with everything that has happened.

After falling back asleep and waking up later in the day, Tim glances around and freezes as he catches sight of the person sitting in the comfortable chair beside his bed. His mother is reading something on her phone as she sits in a perfectly respectable position.

“Mom?” Tim says roughly.

Janet Drake looks up with her sharp eyes. She smiles, looking more gentle than Tim can remember in recent years. “Timothy, we have been worried.” She reaches out with a slim hand and brushes her fingers across his cheek.

Tim’s lips quiver at the affection. “M-mom,” he says wetly as tears start to fall.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Janet says, her brows furrowing slightly. “Are you in pain? I can summon a doctor.”

“No,” Tim whispers and presses his cheek slightly more into his mother’s hand.

Tim is neither stupid nor oblivious. He knows that his parents aren’t the best. They value their archaeological work more than they should. They leave Tim home alone for long periods of time. Neither Jack nor Janet are overly affectionate people; they have not cuddled their son since he was a toddler. But they have never struck him. They have provided everything for him. And when they are in Gotham, they always made sure that there was a day that they would spend at Drake manor with Tim only. They would discuss school, hobbies, and anything else that Tim wanted. They always sent gifts on holidays if they weren’t there in person. 

His parents have always wanted Tim to get perfect grades, but have never punished him for anything besides failing. They have taught him to have perfect manners and poise. They have never struck him.

Tim knows logically that what they do is a form of neglect. But Tim has never truly been bothered by it. He is very independent and likes the freedom of having no one watching him so he can do his nighttime photography. 

So yeah. Not perfect. Probably not even good. But Tim has never doubted that they care about him. He just also knows that he’s not usually their first priority. Tim has made the decision a long time ago to be okay with this. He will accept it for what it is and do the best with what he can. And right now, all he can do is accept his mother’s rare affection and cry.

After a few minutes, Tim calms down and Janet wipes his face with a soft cloth.

“Where am I?” Tim asks.

After sitting back and straightening her skirt and blouse, Janet explains that once they had been contacted about Tim’s severe injuries, they had him transported to a hospital they have access to in Switzerland. Tim has undergone two surgeries to repair his heavily damaged left leg. Along with a complex fracture (he now has some bone screws and two rods, how fun) he also has a fractured ankle and some of the bones in the same foot are also broken, a fracture on his kneecap and a few torn ligaments as well. His left hip was also dislocated when he was first checked into the hospital in Gotham. Tim’s other injuries consist of: fractured wrist, broken collar bone, four broken ribs and three fractured ribs, a lot of deep bruising, many scrapes, and a severe head injury. The head injury caused a brain bleed that thankfully was small and slow enough that medication and time took care of it. Tim does have a row of seventeen stitches for the cut that spans from his left eyebrow to above his ear (that is why his hair is shorter now). 

Tim stares at the opposite wall after his mother informs him that he’s been in a medically induced coma for five days and then three more days unconscious with him starting to regain consciousness in the past day. 

Tim is very smart. He knows that these are the type of injuries at their severity that cause permanent mobility issues.

Tim starts to silently cry as he thinks about how recovery is going to take a long time and that his left leg is never going to be the same and that there is a good chance he is going to need a cane after he heals at the very least. He grieves for his mobility. He grieves for his dreams. Because there was a part of Tim that wanted to become Robin to save Batman and to honor Jason; now that is no longer possible. He lost his chance.

Now who’s going to save Batman? Tim wonders silently.

“Timothy,” Janet interrupts Tim’s spiral, “I must tell you that there was someone that called in an anonymous tip about a boy needing help in an alley at night. Whoever that person was commented that it was Batman who harmed you.” By the end of that sentence, Janet’s voice has taken on a cold, sharp edge, one that promises swift and merciless retribution. Janet Allison Drake nee Devonshire is well-known for being ruthless when provoked into action. She is the youngest daughter of old money and while she didn’t inherit her family’s vast network of companies and wealth, she did inherit a portion of that and then also married a rich man and made him richer by being an ambitious and cunning wife who helped her husband’s company become one of the leading medical equipment manufacturers in the world as well as other lucrative companies or affiliations here and there. Janet is the one who Tim inherited his sharp intellect from. It is Janet who taught Tim how to manipulate, threaten, bribe, and scare people. Tim is dangerous because his mother taught him how to be. Because Janet can be dangerous. 

“Mother,” Tim gasps, “please do not kill Batman.” Tim isn’t quite sure if it’s the drugs in his system or just the knowledge that while some underestimate his mother, he knows she could probably take over and run gotham if she wanted to (and it’s a good thing she is content to run her husband’s company, run archeological sites, and go to galas). “Mom, please.” 

Janet frowns slightly as she once more leans forward to wipe her son’s face with a soft cloth. “Tell me why I shouldn’t ruin him.” Her actions are gentle; her voice is like harsh winter wind. “He hurt you. He almost killed my son. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

Tim leans against his mother’s hand. “I was trying to save him,” Tim admits brokenly. “It’s my fault; I surprised him while he was in a fight.”

Janet’s expression doesn’t change. But there is knowledge in her dark eyes. And they bore into Tim’s light blue eyes. As she studies Tim, Janet cleans his face and tucks the cloth away, all without looking away from him. 

And Tim wonders if his mother knows. If she knows who is under the cowl, who Batman is and who he lost. Tim wonders if she knows like he does. And he wonders what else she knows.

“Timothy, you are fourteen years old, it is not your job to save a grown man who cannot control his anger or grief,” Janet says, her voice hard without being cruel. “This is not your responsibility.”

Tim glances down, feeling guilty and fearful. He knows he’s hid things and has taken advantage of his parents’ neglect. That he has used them. Just like he was taught.

Janet removes her hand slowly and straightens once more. “Timothy, I taught you better than this.”

Tim flinches slightly and squeezes his eyes shut.

“If you believe in something, if you want something, you better be willing to fight for it. Now look me in the eye and do not flinch from this,” Janet commands.

Tim twitches but obeys. And he sees his mother staring back, one thin eyebrow raised as she continues to study him. What he does not see is rage, nor does he see disappointment.

“What?” Tim questions.

“Well, I taught you that you better follow through with your plans or have a back up ready if it doesn’t work. I taught you to not flinch at someone else’s words or ploys. If you are going to take someone on, you better be prepared to look them in the eye and prove your point. You keep your back straight, your smile up, your appearance perfect; and you never show your hand early.”

Tim cannot straighten with broken ribs but he does stop crying and relaxes his shoulders. “Mother?”

“I will not pretend that I have been a good mother to you, Timothy,” Janet begins, her voice softening. “I am not a warm person. But I hope I have raised you and taught you enough that you can take on the things you want to. DI will one day be yours and I know that you will make the company thrive as much as I have done. Whatever else you take on, is your choice. I will not judge what. But I will judge how. If you do something, be prepared to follow through.”

“Everything I planned went to hell,” Tim admits. I’ll never be Robin with a bum leg. I won’t be able to do things because I’ll be crippled. What could I do with how I am now?

“Well, time to follow your back up plan.”

“I didn’t really have one,” Tim whispers.

Janet hums. “Then make one.”

Tim gapes at his mother. Is she? Does she know? Is she telling me to become a vigilante?

“Mother, do you know who--”

Janet holds up a hand to cut him off. “Timothy,” she sighs. “My son.” A pause. “You will never be able to tell me about this. I will never ask about this. This thing, whatever you choose to do, and how you go about it, will have to be up to you. I cannot know anything.”

And Tim suddenly understands. 

Janet must never be in the know for what Tim has done, what Tim knows, and what he is going to do. She must always have plausible deniability. That is the only way Tim will ever have any sort of safety net. If he worked around his parents, and they never knew anything, then they will never be accused of aiding him. And Janet will be able to help him if he does get found out. It’s what she taught him. To have a backup plan. To use everything and everyone to your advantage. And of course, the lack of knowledge can be just as useful as having the knowledge. You just have to be clever enough to place the pieces on the board exactly where you want them.

“But I’m,” Tim chokes. “I’m going to be permanently injured. What can I do with that?”

Janet scoffs before she gives a sharp grin, like a shark. “My great grandfather suffered a head injury that caused him to have many health issues, caused him to be disabled. But whether he was in a wheelchair or standing straight, people listened to him. Because he knew everyone and everything. He feared no one. They feared him. His men obeyed without question. You do not have to be perfectly healthy to be powerful, Timothy. But you must know how to use what power you do have. You will have to be smarter and ruthless and dauntless. But you are already those things, are you not? You are my child.”

Tim can’t help but smile slightly. Janet’s grandfather on her mother’s side was an old-time gangster who ran a large organization and was feared and respected in equal measure. He used to have weapons hidden in his wheelchair as well as candies that he would give to his beloved granddaughters. But no one saw him as weak. And those that did, well, they didn’t last long. But they don’t talk about him, no one needs to know or it could cause some disrespect. But Janet and her sisters know. Tim knows. And that’s enough.

That’s enough to reignite the hope that shattered with Tim’s body the night he hit the ground and broke him.

Broken can be fixed. Hurt can be healed. Pain can fade.

Tim can be a hero. Even if he can’t be Robin.

Tim can save Batman. He can help Gotham.

He’ll just have to do it differently.

“I think I’d like to sleep for a while, Mother,” Tim says. I need time to come up with a new plan. I need to think of my next ten moves.

“Of course, darling.” Janet smiles, something that looks both dangerous and affectionate to Tim. “You get some rest. Your recovery is of utmost importance. Your father will be here next time you wake.”

Tim relaxes back into the pillows and closes his eyes as his mind begins to race.

If I’m going to help save Gotham. Then I will need to become something else. I can’t be a vigilante who breaks noses and cuffs bad guys. But Batman does investigative work. And that type of thing I’ll be able to do. 

Hmm. What else?

Computers. I am good with computers and technology.

Coding. Hacking. Investigating. Information control and distribution.

I will become a hero in a support capacity and he will focus on investigation, technology and information. Gotham is my home and I will not let her fall. Robin, Jason, was my hero. And I will not let his legacy of hope fade.

Tim falls asleep as he begins his planning.

When Tim wakes up early the next morning, both of his parents are close to him. 

“Hey, there, son,” Jack greets enthusiastically, though worry and stress can be read in his face and blue eyes. “Your mother said you woke up earlier. How’re you feeling, champ?”

“Hey, Dad,” Tim says. “Kinda hurting, really thirsty.”

After getting some water, Jack pats Tim’s uninjured shoulder and begins talking about the hospital (the food is very good, the doctors are competent) and other topics. Tim meets his mother’s eyes for a moment. She raises a single brow. Tim nods, lips tight with determination. Janet nods back once before standing up to fetch a doctor.

It takes a few hours for the attending doctor and head nurse to explain everything (injuries, what the surgeries did, current plan for healing, future plans for physical therapy, possible life altering situations, possible solutions to long-term health issues). The doctor smiles when Tim says that he will walk again and that he does not give up easily. After the staff give another dose of pain medication, they leave the three Drakes alone. 

Tim looks at his parents and catches his mother’s gaze. “I wish to return to Gotham after my recovery. I want to do schooling online and I plan to graduate at sixteen at the latest.”

Jack frowns. “Now, son, I know you’ve been through something awful, but don’t you think you should think this through some more? And why would you want to return to Gotham?”

Tim smiles like his mother taught him. All lips and teeth, not reaching the eyes, no the eyes are sharp and intense. On Janet and her son, the look is chilling and charming in equal measure. 

Before Tim can wield his sharp tongue, Janet interrupts with a chuckle. “Of course, Timothy.” She gives her husband a pointed look. “Our son is intelligent and independent, Jack. If he has a plan, then he has thought it through. Who are we to slow his momentum if he wants to do this. It will look great for all of us to have a brilliant son who graduates early and is successful.”

Jack glances between his wife and son’s smiles and, smartly (his self preservation is not lacking), laughs jovially. “You are correct, Jan, our son is brilliant and capable. And he deserves to do as he wishes after such horrible injuries.”

Janet hums as she goes back to her phone and begins emailing relevant entities.

Tim hums. He has a plan. And he’s going to make sure it works this time. 

Heal. Recover. Get school out of the way. Gain all knowledge and information. Become the best hacker and investigator. Make Batman be better. Protect Gotham. 

Honor Robin’s memory.

Tim has a plan.

Tim has a purpose.

Chapter Text

While in the hospital, Tim (with his mother’s help) manages to start an online school after testing all the way through to twelfth grade. He skips three grades total. While in the hospital, they also celebrate Tim’s fifteenth birthday. His parents gift him a new camera and laptop, both top of the line and perfect. 

Throughout his hospital stay, his parents come and go. Jack tends to be gone more often but video calls if he can’t visit. Janet is present but busy on her phone and laptop, laying the groundwork.

It takes 8 weeks for the ribs, wrist, and collar bone to heal. The bones in his legs take an additional 2 weeks to heal. Early in that recovery they end up doing an additional surgery to fully repair the ligament and muscle tears in his knee (the first one done initially was mainly to fix the bones and start repairing ligaments; once the initial healing started, another necessary surgery became apparent). It takes 6 more weeks for the ligaments to heal enough to start physical therapy (16 weeks total for ligaments to be healed enough to switch from cast to orthopedic boot and the start of physical therapy as Tim’s left leg continues to heal and strengthen).

For a while he’s in a wheelchair, then crutches. Once he’s in the boot, he begins walking with aid (walking crutches and then cane). First walking a few steps with the bars. Gradually gaining strength and stamina.

It is not easy. It is painful and frustrating. There are days when Tim is angry at everyone and everything. The doctors and physical therapists have a lot of patience. Jack tends to take himself out of the situation to mask his own frustration. Janet ignores it but also gives Tim other things to focus on on the bad days. Books and programs about coding. Investigative journals. Learning puzzles. Corporate reports and paperwork.

It is hard. Tim cries when the pain is bad. He throws things when he’s angry at the world. He locks himself in the bathroom when he’s angry at himself. 

But he is Timothy Jackson Drake, and he is not giving up or stopping. 

Even though it’s hard and painful, he makes progress. Walking is agony at first but it does eventually quiet to aching.

Finally after 12 weeks of physical therapy (28 weeks total), they take the boot off and run a bunch of tests. Everything is holding up well. While it’s not the prettiest, the bones have healed as much as they are going to; the screws and rods holding him together. After the boot comes off, Timothy spends another 4 weeks in physical therapy. There is nerve damage from all the damage; his leg around the knee sometimes cramping badly, and his lower leg will sometimes radiate with painful static like feelings from his foot through his calf. Sometimes, if Tim is trying to walk when that type of attack happens, he’s liable to lose his balance and even fall. There are days when the ache becomes too much, like consuming fire, like walking on knives and he has to use a wheelchair. There are days the ache is a little worse and his joints are a little too weak and he uses a couple braces to help support his ankle and knee, but manages to walk with elbow crutches or heavily relying on a cane if possible. But there are also a couple days where the ache is there but not bad and he’s able to walk with a cane and slight limp. The doctors inform him that he'll always need a cane and that he should get a wheelchair for the bad days because those will be regularly occurring. 

The scarring, when Tim studied his leg one night, was a mixture of thick pink lines, rough against pale skin from where his bones had broken through on the outside of his mid-calf, and some thinner pink lines that lay more flat, the surgical scars, that line almost his whole shin. There are also scars around his knee where the surgeries happened to repair the torn ligaments. To Tim, they are ugly. But they are also a sign he is alive and can continue. So he will wear them like anything else, with straight spine and cool demeanor. He is a Drake after all, and his mother’s son; they do not shy from difficult things.

His mother gifts him a beautiful mahogany walking cane with a brass handle that has a dragon head carved into it. She shows him some ‘antique’ walking canes with swords and daggers hidden inside them. (He understands that she is giving him suggestions hidden as a history lesson.) Tim orders a custom wheelchair that's slim and easy to maneuver with spots he can tuck bags and tools into.

Slowly but steadily, Tim recovers. He regains much of his ability even as he also understands that his left leg will forever be weaker and prone to pain.  He accepts that he'll never be like robin, able to fly through the air, run and jump across rooftops. But now he knows he can become something else.

But Tim also knows he cannot act on his plans, cannot go back to Gotham, unless he somehow gets training. He needs the ability to fight in some capacity. But it's not like he can walk up to some big shot in the justice league. He's going to have to go a darker route.

So he contacts Deathstroke. Once in contact, Tim explains that he needs to be able to protect himself because he's going to stick his nose in dangerous places once he goes back to Gotham; figuring on Deathstroke at least respecting his honesty as well as his money. He meets Slade Wilson 5 days later. 

During Tim's recovery, his parents helped him move into a nice private villa miles away from neighbors, all one floor with wide doorways (Tim can tell recent renovations have made it accessible to his wheelchair days), and plenty of space outside. 

When he first contacted the mercenary, he told his mother that he needed to study alone and that he'd call when he was ready for Gotham. Janet smiled, kissed his forehead and dragged Jack out to a dig in Germany. 

Wilson showed up with two heavy duffles and a backpack. He greeted Tim with a speculative once over and a single remark of starting the next morning. After seeing Tim's cane and wheelchair, Deathstroke says he's going to teach him to use a cane sword, throwing knives, short blades, as well as small caliber guns. 

They start with guns. From both sitting and standing positions. Cleaning, maintenance, aim, precision, drawing speed. 

“You are not a sniper, I'm not training you as one,” Slade says in his gruff voice. “This is purely defense. You need to be comfortable drawing this and shooting to stop someone from attacking you. You will be at a disadvantage in your wheelchair; you must never hesitate. If you don't want to kill then you need to have perfect close range aim so you can kneecap any who'd do you harm. But center of mass is bigger and easier to hit.”

2 weeks of intense training 12 hours a day makes Tim comfortable with handguns to the point Slade says that as long as he keeps practicing, he should be good to go on guns. 

Next, learning to throw knives and weird small blades. Again, Slade takes care to make sure Tim is comfortable fighting in his wheelchair. Slade explains that smaller weapons are going to be more manageable in a seated position as Tim doesn't have the room to wield long weapons easily. Speed and efficiency is the name of the game.

Tim learns that he is actually pretty freaking good with both a cane and a sword. He learns to use small knives and kubatons from his chair as well. Tim is fast and retains much of his flexibility even though he’s weaker. He picks up on new things quickly; even Slade Wilson comments that he probably would’ve been a very good and versatile fighter if he hadn’t suffered his injuries.

Over the next few weeks, Tim masters many small weapons as well as how to escape holds and pins. 

“Never go into a fight thinking it’s going to be fair,” Slade lectures gruffly as he pins Tim, who’s in his wheelchair, against a wall. “That will get you killed. Or worse. So don’t fight fair or honorably. Kick, scratch, bite. Stab in their tender places. Throw dirt in their faces. Cut their tendons. Do whatever it takes to win. Winning means you survive, you get out alive. Run away if you can and are out matched. You can always return to an investigation or a place. You won’t come back from death.”

Tim nods with understanding. “Can I put knives in the toes of my shoes?” Tim asks as he stares at the mercenary.

Slade raises an eyebrow.

“If someone pins me like this,” Tim explains, “I bet I could make them let me go if I can stab them when I kick them. Plus, it’d be unexpected of a man in a wheelchair.”

Slade stands up with a chuckle that sounds almost like a growl. “Smart. Vicious. You might actually survive whatever you plan on doing.”

Turns out, Tim can order specialized weapons, including shoes with knives in the toes. Slade gives him a contact and vouches for Tim. Elodie is a weapon maker based out of Paris. She sounds young over the phone, but sharp and serious, no-nonsense. Tim finds her to be quite willing to make him a few things and has one of her people deliver it a few weeks later. 

The weapons arrive after Slade leaves (the mercenary having taught Tim what he could in the timeframe and given him some good pointers). Two pairs of shoes. One pair are sleek gala-ready black dress shoes. The other pair are boots that are mid-calf height with extra support in the foot and ankle of his left boot to help with his injuries; the boots are also steel-toed with some minor armor along most of the rest of the structure; they lace up as well as having some straps that can easily slip knives into. Both pairs of shoes have a two inch blade that extends from each toe from a hidden compartment that can be engaged with a certain flex of his toes on small hidden levers. Tim also ordered his own set of knives as well as a cane sword. The cane sword looks like a normal cane made of African blackwood and a silver knob handle that fits in Tim’s palm perfectly. Tim tests it by grabbing the cane handle below the knob-turned-pommel and presses the two hidden buttons to release the sword from its sheath. The blade is 26 inches of high carbon steel with a double edge. It glides smoothly from its sheath and is light and easy to wield. Sheathing it, Tim walks around the villa with it to get accustomed to its weight so he looks as natural with it as well as the one his mother gave him. 

Tim spends months practicing with his various weapons as well as regularly exercising. He gets much better with his wheelchair maneuverability as well with a lot of practice in the house and out on the grounds of the villa; he is able to even practice on slightly rougher ground. Once he caught the wheel of his chair in a deeper crack and flung himself three feet into gravel, managing to only scrape up his arms and hip. No one saw so Tim just pretends that never happened.  Tim also is able to study and practice a lot of coding and hacking, even making a few acquaintances that give him pointers and tricks for things. He quickly finishes up high school and has his diploma sent to him. 

He creates a few apps for phones and tablets and starts a few off the record bank accounts under the name Alvin Draper. The apps that are successful start bringing in extra cash flow that will help with his vigilante costs.

Early July his parents visit to celebrate his graduation as well as an early 16th birthday. Tim tells them that he’d like to go back to Gotham.

“We’ve had the first floor of the manor renovated,” Janet explains calmly. “You will have accessibility and your own suite on the first floor so you won’t need to deal with stairs. Of course we’d understand if you decide after some time to find your own place, darling.”

Tim hears the hidden “If you need to hide your vigilante hideout somewhere not in the manor, you will be afforded funds” that his mother won’t admit aloud.

“Thank you, Mother,” Tim says warmly.

Janet gives him a small smile. 

“Do you need us to go with you?” Jack asks. “Need help settling?”

Thinking about his weapon cases and specialized gear, Tim chuckles. “No, that’s quite alright,” he says. “I’ll just get a driver. Can I borrow the family plane for my return trip?”

“Of course, dear,” Janet says. “When would you like to leave?”

“Next week,” Tim decides. I need to get back and start all the research closer to the city. I need to really check on Batman and the others. Something or someone has locked Gotham information a little tighter. There’s still information available but I’ll find more out once I’m back there. 

“Sounds good, champ,” Jack replies. “We’ll be going on an extended dig down in Peru soon but you can call if you need us.”

Tim smiles. “Thanks, Dad.”

Tim spends the next week making sure he has all his gear packed and ready. He hires a discreet driving service ahead of time as well as a grocery delivery service for the day after he gets there. On the day he leaves to return to Gotham, he hugs his parents, who’ve stayed at the  villa for the week (though have not tried to help him pack) and have driven him to the private airport they have the Drake family plane ready to take Tim back to Gotham. After a strong hug from Jack, Tim steps into his Mother’s slim arms. She pulls him close, one hand against the back of his head, the other across his shoulders.

“Good luck, Timothy,” Janet says softly, her cheek pressed against Tim’s. “I love you.” There is more emotion in her voice than Tim has ever heard from her.

“I love you too,” Tim says, tearing up. “Thank you.”

Janet hums before moving to gently kiss Tim’s forehead.

Tim limps away, the cane his mother gifted him steady in his right hand, and climbs into the plane. Tim relaxes into the plush seat and watches outside the plane window as the pilot takes off with no trouble.

Back to Gotham. And Batman. And Robin’s memory…

Chapter Text

Tim limps up to Drake manor in the early afternoon on the day after his sixteenth birthday. It’s cloudy but not dark. The private driver leaves Tim after he helped unload the wheelchair, two cases, and duffle bag from the trunk. Tim easily moves everything inside and locks up once more. He takes an hour to explore the renovations his parents had done to the manor.

The kitchen and living room has been largely left alone besides being updated slightly. A large portion of the downstairs has been renovated into a number of rooms for Tim. The door to his new suite opens into a sitting area with a large closet (big enough to contain his wheelchair and crutches among many other things) at the doorway. The sitting area has a round table with four comfortable chairs, a faux fireplace with a loveseat and a recliner, a coffee table and a large flatscreen on the wall. The door on a far wall leads to a large bedroom (which contains many of Tim’s things from his bedroom from upstairs). There are a couple wardrobes, a large desk with a computer chair, a nice bed with a canopy and dark red bedding set. There are two additional doors, the one closest to the door to the sitting room leads to a bathroom with both a large tub and a shower (the shower is outfitted with a bench and railings for bad pain days). There is also a secondary sink low enough to accommodate Tim in a wheelchair. The other door leads to a dark room outfitted for developing pictures.

Tim stores his wheelchair and his weapon cases in his closet before he settles at his desk with his laptop. He’s already researched suppliers and has settled on who to order a vigilante suit from, for when he goes out as his new in-progress-persona. He knows that he will have to do some of his investigating in person. He sends an email with his suit designs and parameters to the supplier based in New York. He gets a response in three minutes with a time frame and price and a list of very specific measurement inquiries. Tim responds with the necessary details and sends the money. He should have his suit in a week (the supplier is well-liked but small-time and does not work for known villains; Tim thought he would be a good option, even if temporarily). After that’s done, Tim starts looking at properties in Gotham that he could buy under the table (since Tim knows he’s going to end up on Batman’s radar and wants to do everything he can to make it hard to discover who he is). Tim is operating everything under Alvin Draper identity for now; he can come up with more or change identities later if necessary. He even has identification that was made while he was still in the villa. But the name Alvin Draper is one Tim is willing to use in connection to his vigilante name, to protect his real name.

After a couple hours, Tim has bookmarked three different properties that may be what he’s looking for. He plans to visit them later. He sends some emails out and sets up times to explore the properties. The properties are being sold privately by people who all seem to want to sell quickly, with little fuss. He will check all of them out within the next couple days. He also sets up some of his automated systems to start running through all local publications and news; that should pick up plenty of information about Batman that he can scan through tomorrow when he wakes up. Tim also orders new security systems and other materials and small-time manufacturing equipment (in case he needs to make something himself).

Tired from the flight (and a little anticipated stress starting), Tim takes a shower and falls into his bed. He sets alarms for 6 am and falls asleep quickly.

The next morning, Tim wakes up feeling much better rested and starts the day with dark coffee and his routine stretching. He accepts his grocery drop and tips the young man who carries his groceries into his house. The college-age young man looks much more awake and happy after receiving the fifty dollar bill and tells Tim that he’ll deliver groceries for him anytime before he leaves. Tim puts all the food away and saves the man’s info in the grocery delivery app. (His mother always said it’s good to have loyal people willing to serve them and if the college dude is happy with large tips, Tim might gain a loyal delivery guy willing to look past some oddities in the future.)

Tim then sits at his computer and starts going through the mound of info his systems gathered. There are more reports of Batman going too far with many minor-crime people. There is even a report of Superman stopping Batman from killing Joker. Tim thinks that the Joker’s death wouldn’t be a loss really but also understands that Batman is not a killer and that if Batman goes too far then Batman will lose everything he stands for. Tim is also frustrated to see that Superman pretty much immediately left after dropping the clown off at Arkham.

Some of them members of the Justice League would have the authority and ability to rein Batman in a little. But they either respect or fear him too much to step in more than what Superman did. 

Hmm…I might come back to this. I might be able to give them a good enough reason to rein in the bat.

Tim puts all the research of Batman being too violent into a folder named Batman is Going to Kill Someone.

Then Tim starts a new folder labelled Batman is Trying to Kill Himself after watching a video caught by a city camera of Batman not even trying to block hits while fighting Bane. Tim growls as he starts finding more evidence of Batman losing his damn mind and letting himself be hurt more often and more severely. 

This is why Batman needs Robin. Robin wasn’t just the light for Gotham, he was Batman’s light as well. The reason Batman took care of himself. He had a son to take care of.

Tim takes a break to practice with his weapons for a while. He’ll set up a training room when he settles on a hideout. He’s already done research on training dummies among other things. 

He takes stock of his weapons and cleans them while he rests his leg. In total he has: one sword cane, two karambit knives, twelve throwing knives, two daggers, and two kubatons. All very well made by Elodie and/or her people. He also bought a taser online that he adds to the collection.

Tim goes upstairs to fetch his hidden cache of pictures. A box that is well-loved and locked is brought down and hidden under Tim’s bed; Tim doesn’t want to look at them quite yet. 

Tim also sets up appointments with his doctor and physical therapist in Gotham just to have it on record. After all, the Drake Industries heir can’t show up with a cane and a limp to galas and no one asks questions. He wants to make sure there’s at least a trail of Tim acting like a normal civilian. Thankfully, Janet already had a story put out and witnesses that tell the story of Tim being in a bad car accident. Even the Gotham doctors reported that. Tim smirked when he found those reports. Janet Drake is efficient.

Then he checks the emails and finishes scheduling his property lookarounds for the next day. None should take him very long.

Tim, still easily exhausted with his leg, takes a hot shower and goes to bed early.

The next morning, Tim wakes up and repeats his routine of coffee and stretching. Then he gets dressed in slacks and a suit jacket. He calls one of his private drivers for the day and meets the man outside. The middle-aged man, Mr. Vance, opens Tim’s door so he can climb in easily with his cane (the one his mother bought him). Mr. Vance is one of two private drivers Janet specifically hired for Tim’s use recently. Tim knows that the man used to work for the Riddler and is also most likely under orders to shoot any threat to Tim (Tim clocked that the driver has a hidden weapon under his jacket. After receiving directions, Mr. Vance drives Tim into Gotham and stops by a medium-sized empty old factory located in the Bowery. An unassuming-looking man stands outside with keys in hand.

The exchange is silent; Tim is handed the keys and the unknown man stays outside being watched by Mr. Vance. Tim goes inside to explore. There are three floors currently, the main floor, one floor of offices, and a basement. Tim leaves after exploring, handing the keys back to the man with a nod and climbing back into the car. 

Mr. Vance drives him to another warehouse, this one in the Coventry area. A similar type of exchange is had, this time with a nervous middle-aged woman. Tim knows that the woman inherited the warehouse from her recently deceased father (died of natural causes in Gotham, what a legit surprise) and she does not want to live in Gotham and wants the property sold quickly. The warehouse is two stories tall, open on the inside with many boarded up windows. There is also a basement that is empty save for the building’s large generator and utility controls. Tim smiles slightly as he hands the woman the keys back.

“Thank you, Ma’am, we’ll be in contact,” Tim says calmly.

The woman nods and gives a nervous smile. “Yes, Mr. Draper.”

Tim climbs into the back of the vehicle and Mr. Vance closes it. 

Tim looks at the final property quickly, having already come to his decision.

After asking his driver to stop at a shop for a quick lunch, Tim orders sandwiches and coffee for both himself and Mr. Vance (the older man looking surprised but pleased). Then, Tim has the man drop him off at Drake Manor.

“Thank you, Mr. Vance,” Tim says as the driver holds his car door open.

“Of course, Mr. Drake,” Vance says. “Let me know if y’need me again.”

Tim nods and walks away, his cane clacking against the stone steps into the manor.

Once, inside Tim limps to his rooms so he can take a pain pill (his knee and ankle are aching from exploring the three large buildings and all the stairs). He settles on his bed with his laptop this time, elevating his knee on a pillow.

He rechecks his systems, making notes where he needs to. Then he begins hacking the police systems. That’s where things start getting interesting. 

Turns out there have been twenty-three scared civilian calls to 911 about Batman, Batman not villains. These people were scared of the Bat. Tim puts those reports into his folder. He also researches online forums, coming across many more scared civilians that don’t want to call the cops on the Batman. 

Then he comes across a couple, only two, mentions of the name Oracle. 

How interesting, Tim thinks. This must be a new vigilante.

Tim spends the next three hours searching for Oracle.

Holy shit, it’s Batgirl!

Tim finds that Oracle is Barbara Gordon. Batgirl. Once he finds that he goes on an in depth search on her. When he finds that the Joker shot and paralyzed her shortly (only a month) before he killed Robin. And it was Barbara not Batgirl that was targeted. Tim never looked into Batgirl’s disappearance back then because it wasn’t so overt and then Robin died and then Batman lost his mind a bit. Then, well everything else that happened to Tim. But now Barbara is Oracle, an information broker by the looks of it, and the one who helps control information being harder to find as a whole. Who works with or for Batman. 

Tim switches to his emails, taking a break and realizing that he is too tired after exerting his bad leg. He plans to fully flesh out info about Oracle tomorrow. For now, he sends what he needs to to quietly buy the warehouse in Coventry, everything going through shadier notary business so he won’t have to go in person. He wires multiple payments from two different ‘Alvin Draper’ accounts and has everything settled within the hour. 

He quickly hires an out of country business to come and remodel the warehouse, paying upfront for quick efficient work. It takes a few hours of emailing back and forth to nail down everything he needs put into that property and gets across that it needs done quietly and quickly. They settle on a 6 month timeline. 

Tim closes his laptop and limps out to the kitchen to cook a quick meal. He sits at the island counter to eat before retreating to his suite to run a hot bath to relax in for a while. 

Over the next few weeks, he follows his routine. He drinks coffee, stretches, practices with his cane and knives (even setting up a knife throwing area in his sitting room), spends some time around the Drake property, redoing the current security systems for the better equipment he ordered. After setting up security all over the manor and grounds and linking it to his main phone (he has a secondary one he’s using as Alvin Draper that he’ll use for vigilante stuff).  He also goes to his doctor and physical therapy appointments for check ups. He no longer needs a physical therapist but wanted to make sure he had one in case his injuries worsen or something else happens. But he does need his prescriptions for muscle relaxants and pain medicine for his bad pain days. He also gets his driving permit so in 6 months he can get his license. 

After a week, his suit comes, hand delivered by an older-but-still-teenage boy with short blue hair, black eyes, and wearing a medical face mask. He simply hands him two cases, takes the hundred dollar tip with a nod, and drives away in his nondescript SUV. Tim wonders if the guy is the actual crafter or a delivery-driver-partner. He shrugs and takes the cases to his bedroom.

Inside the cases are the components as he described over email. The larger case contains two pairs of black slim fit but flexible slack-like pants, three high-necked black tight fitting long-sleeve undershirts, two waistcoats (based off 1700’s style waistcoats with buttons up to the base of the throat) that are a deep red color with silver buttons and two pockets. All are kevlar weave, the waistcoats being thicker, stab and cut resistant, fire-resistant, and has some protection against smaller caliber bullets. They are definitely thicker and heavier than normal clothes but look like normal clothes that most people wouldn’t pick up on it unless they know what they are looking for. Also in the case are two metal forearm guards with a silver finish, black leather gloves, a heavy duty black belt with four utility pouches (dark red like the waistcoat), red thigh holster straps that are made to hold knives and daggers, and a long black trench coat. The trench coat is also kevlar with thicker armor over chest and back. It’s not as stab resistant but it’s a little more resistant to bullets, as well as being water repellent. In the smaller case are two half-face masks, hard black material molded to fit from under his jaw to over his nose; it also has an attachment gas mask to cover the small vents and clean the air for up to 10 minutes, the maker sent three of these attachments. Also in the smaller case is a pair of steampunk-esque goggles made of matte-black metal and the actual glass has a one-way mirror effect, and has small buttons to control vision settings. Testing it reveals it has three settings, normal, nightvision, and thermal vision.

After trying on his entire suit, including his boots and looking in the full-length mirror in his bathroom, Tim spends a minute tracing the embroidered R in the left pocket of his waistcoat in silver thread. The R is Robin’s stylized R (circled R with the two lines slightly extended past the circle edge)  that he sent a picture of to the suit-maker with specific instructions.

I’m doing this for Robin, in Robin’s memory. For Jason.

Robin was my hero, the one who people were comforted by. The one who’s presence reminded people that, yes, there is evil and darkness but there is also light and hope and love. You don’t have to walk this path alone. I’ll walk with you. 

If I have to be the one to remind Batman of Robin, then I will. Even if I have to make myself a nuisance or blackmail or even beat him over the head. Gotham needs Batman who’s not trying to kill himself and maiming every other person he comes across and terrifying civilians as much as the rogues.

He starts practicing with his weapons in his gear. Walking and running (as much as he actually can with his leg) to get used to the weight. 

During the nights, Tim stays up and listens to police scanners and starts hacking the city street cameras. He starts following Batman’s patrol routes. Tim runs across Oracle doing similar things, but leaves it alone and stays off her radar for now. He’s mostly checking in on Batman and his behavior. He also spends some time everyday hacking into the police network to get at files and doing some remote investigating. Tim sends multiple emails with information he’s figured out or found to Commissioner Gordon, signed with his new name. Gordon has only responded with messages along the lines of “Thanks for the tip”. Tim is unsure if the police commissioner is taking him seriously yet, but time will tell.

There has been a few bad pain days sprinkled in, two were even days that Tim stayed in bed most of the time with ice packs and when he had to move, shakily got into his wheelchair. 

After about two months of this routine (hacking, training, researching, sending feeler emails to Gordon), Tim ends one night frowning as he adds a video of Batman hitting Riddler after the man already surrendered. Edward Nygma went to Arkham with a broken jaw. 

Well. That’s a problem. And now I have to fix it. I think it’s time I stepped in before it keeps getting worse.

Tim starts hacking into Nightwing’s private email and systems.

I can’t let this continue.

He sends an email of multiple videos and reports of Batman being too violent and out of control as well as a couple of Batman taking hits on purpose

The email reads

Nightwing,

Batman needs help. He needs to stop with this behavior. People, regular civilians, are coming to fear the one who is supposed to be protecting them. He’s protecting no one like this. You need to do something.

It takes an hour before Dick responds as Nightwing.

Who are you?

What do you want?

Tim looks up at his suit hanging in the one wardrobe. The goggles glint with the reflection of the room, including where Tim sits on his bed. After a minute, he makes his decision and types back a response to Nightwing.

I want to protect Gotham. Even if I have to protect it from Batman.

I am Sentry

Chapter Text

After sending the email to Nightwing, Tim immediately activates his Portcullis program. The program he coded and built that will close off and shutdown many of his other programs as well as activate other protective features. He named it for the imagery of protecting all his Sentry things. Sentry, a soldier stationed to keep guard over a place; Sentry (Tim) now stationed to guard over Gotham. Portcullis are meant to slam down and prevent access into a city or keep. Portcullis is to protect access to all things Sentry.

Yes, Tim thinks he’s clever.

Tim knows that Nightwing/Dick will most likely contact Oracle/Barbara even if he doesn’t contact Batman/Bruce immediately. Dick and Barbara were close as both their civilian selves as well as their hero selves. Barbara was Dick’s partner before he had a falling out with Bruce and left to become Nightwing. Barbara stayed as Batman’s backup and helped the new Robin. Tim assumes Dick will trust Barbara to look into Sentry before he goes to Batman. So Tim has to protect as much as he can while he watches to see what Oracle will do and then he’ll figure out how to handle it.

Tim takes a short nap and wakes early to accept another delivery in a few discreet boxes. This box holds much of the security measures that he will personally put in place at his new base when it’s finished being refurbished. He checks all the contents (scanners, cameras, electrifying elements, locks)  and nods once satisfied and locks them in the false panel in the large closet he spent a weekend building a week ago (now it’s where his gear stays. 

After breakfast and stretching, Tim glances over his computer systems. Oracle has definitely been poking but never got through. She seems to be being cautious and not as aggressive as Tim originally expected. It’s possible that they are assuming that I am not a new rogue per se. Interesting. I don’t want to try to hack their emails or texts to see; that would probably flag her systems and cause them to become more defensive.

Tim spends some time getting some more sedative darts for his tranquilizer gun ordered as well as a few other things (many of his suppliers recommended by Slade Wilson, who has surprisingly kept contact by sending a monthly email; Tim is always honest with the mercenary but cautious). The darts will be in case he runs into either the Bat or Nightwing and they get too aggressive (he only has a small supply). He’d rather not shoot them (when he said as much to Slade, the merc sent an email with an audio file of him laughing; thankfully he did recommend a good-leaning chemist). Tim wonders a lot if Slade is just amused by Tim and wants to laugh at him. 

After putting in the orders, Tim rechecks his emails and sees one from Commissioner Gordon. It reads

Sentry,

If you are available tonight for a meet up, I have a case I’d like to have fresh eyes on. Meet me at [place] at 11:45 PM tonight.

Jim Gordon

Tim stares at the computer screen intently.

Hmm…that’s interesting. Guess I have a meeting tonight. Tim grins as he glances at the closet door. Well, I finally get to wear Sentry out. 

Tim looks up the place that Gordon wants to meet. It’s a side street located in the bowery on the edge of crime alley. Not hard to get to but far enough from GCPD location the Commissioner works  out of to inform Tim that Gordon wants this to be away from other officers. Of course, there’s a majority when it comes to dirty cops in Gotham (Tim has a list of officers who he’s sure are actually clean that he could work with if needed-there’s not many).  

Tim lets Mr. Vance know that he will need a ride tonight from Drake manor over the bridge into main Gotham. From there, Tim uses ‘Alvin’s’ phone to order an Uber to the bowery, close to the meet up point. He’s hoping to time it so that he can get there early to watch for Gordon’s arrival. While Tim trusts Gordon to be a good cop and a good man, he does not know Gordon’s thoughts on ‘Sentry’ yet and would rather play it safe. 

After setting those things up, he checks in with the building project (the manager informs him they are slightly ahead of schedule and no surprises thus far). Then he eats lunch, takes a nap, checks his systems, and then eats supper. 

At 9 PM, Tim lays out his Sentry uniform on the long bench in his closet, as well the weapons and equipment he will be taking tonight. He dresses in the protective undershirt and slacks, then buckles the sheath straps and holsters on with his belt. Next comes the waistcoat, he strokes the R pocket once. He pulls on the leather boots and laces them up. Then sheaths his knives and daggers into place. Next he hooks just a single pouch (he has multiple pouches that have a special mechanism to allow easy add on and take off on his belt) that have smoke pellets. He tugs his arm bracers and leather gloves on and then pulls the trenchcoat on over everything. Tim then tucks his mask and goggles into the holding straps on the inside of the coat for them. Finally he grabs his cane sword and walks out of his closet with his slight limp. He takes one last glance at his systems before tucking a small black pill case into one of his waistcoat pockets (it holds two pain pills just in case). Finally grabbing his phone, he walks out of his suite and out of the manor.

Mr. Vance thankfully says nothing as he opens the door for Tim to climb into the back of the vehicle. Tim watches out the window as Mr. Vance drives him to a spot past the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge. 

“Mr. Vance, I’d like for you to wait here for me so you can drive me back to the manor later,” Tim says, “but I don’t know when I’ll be back exactly.”

“Yes, Sir,” the man responds. “Be careful on your business, Mr. Drake.”

Nodding, Tim gets out of the car and  walks down a block. After glancing around and seeing nothing, Tim quickly puts his mask and goggles on while he’s hidden in shadows (he’s planned his whole trip while looking for a path out of all camera sight). He walks for another block and turns up a different street and immediately spots his hired uber (a dark blue jeep with a young man driver). At Sentry’s approach, the driver clenches the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip and watches his approach.

Tap, tap, tap. Sentry’s cane makes the almost eerie noise in the quiet (for Gotham) night, though his boots barely make a sound at all. Sentry stops at the passenger side and taps on the window. Tim would understand if this young man would flee but hoping he won’t. After all, Tim can admit that the Sentry get-up could look rogue-like.

The paling man hits the button to roll the winder Sentry tapped on down a few inches. “Y-yes, Sir?”

“Hello, Mr. Anthony, my name is Sentry, I ordered your services to drop me off over in the bowery,” Sentry’s voice is smooth and level (the slight modular only causes Tim’s voice to be slightly lower and smoothing any unevenness, there’s no mechanical or growl noise, it’s meant to make Sentry sound older than Tim Drake’s age). “Are you still available?” Sentry asks as he slowly holds up the phone showing the uber information on the screen. 

The young man relaxes slightly. “U-um, yes? I mean, yes, sir.” He reaches down to the lock/unlock buttons. Click. “I, er, prefer people sit in the back, but, um, I mean.”

“The back seat is fine,” Sentry soothes. He opens the door and climbs in. Sentry buckles and rests his cane between his legs, both palms on the handle.

The driver locks the doors again and slowly pulls out and starts driving. A few sweat drops can be seen across his temple and neck.

Tim feels slightly bad for scaring this twenty-year old. But anything Sentry says to the man will most likely read as threatening so best to stay silent and calm. Once he pulls into a spot a couple blocks away from the place of meeting, the driver parks and does not look back at Sentry.

“Thank you for your services,” Sentry says as he slips a 50 onto the center console before slipping out of the jeep and closing the door.

Sentry starts walking as the uber driver leaves a different way. After a couple minutes, the new vigilante comes to the address Gordon sent. He immediately switches his goggle settings, checking for unusual signatures. Nothing comes up. Tim is slightly early, 11:30 PM now, so he leans against an alley wall in a good lookout point to see both directions of the street as well as an escape path through the alley if necessary. 

Two minutes till the meetup time, an older sedan pulls up on the other side of the street and Commissioner Jim Gordon parks and steps out to lean against the side of his car. Tim can see he’s holding something, but can’t see details. Sentry is in the shadows and well hidden but moves after a couple minutes of watching Gordon smoke a cigarette. 

Tap. Tap.

At the sound of the cane, Gordon straightens and turns around quickly (efficiently not scared) and watches Sentry approach by crossing the street with his cane. Gordon moves so they both end up close to the trunk of his car. Sentry watches (with some amusement) as Gordon traces the vigilante’s figure (the black trenchcoat, red waistcoat and accents, black and silver cane, mask and reflective goggles). Sentry can now also see that Gordon is holding a manila envelope in his hand.

“Good evening, Commissioner,” Sentry greets with a tip of his head. 

“Sentry,” Gordon responds. He offers the envelope. 

Sentry takes it. He tucks his can into the crook of his left arm before opening the envelope and pulling out the stapled papers. First page contains three pictures with names beside the pictures. Three faces, young and fearful, stare up at Sentry from the page. Children.

“This is a potential trafficking case,” Gordon explains. “Those are the three known to have been taken within the last two months from the shelter on the edge of crime alley. Jenna Gates, Mark Albright, and Luca Perez.”

Sentry flips the first couple pages to see dates, times, a few witness statements. Something jumps out at him.

“One of the statements says there have been more than three taken,” Sentry says. “Why are only three names listed?”

Gordon reaches up and rubs a hand over the scruff along his jaw. “The officers who should’ve been on this case have not done their jobs. They don’t care because these are Alley kids. Runaways, homeless. They don’t matter as much to those officers.”

Tim’s jaw under his mask tightens in anger. Kids of Crime Alley trust no one but themselves. For good reason. Robin, Jason, was always good with them though; he was one of them after all. Jason would be pissed to know this was happening.

Kids matter. Any. ALL. 

“A lot of the kids in the area avoid authority and dodge anyone that might throw them back into the system. CPP doesn’t do these kids any good when they come from this area. They don’t trust the workers at the shelters and food pantries so I don’t have a clear number or time frame. The best guesses I’ve got are in the last three months, maybe ten kids ages eight to fourteen. I’ve put everything I have into this file and it ain’t much.” Gordon sighs deeply, a furrow between his brows. “I ain’t taking this to the Bat, he hasn’t been listening to me much. You’ve been helpful; even if I don’t know what your goals are.”

Sentry places the pages back into the envelope and tucks it into the pocket on the inside of his coat that is for document transport. Gordon watches him intently.

“Commissioner, my goals are to protect Gotham. I am a sentry, a guardsman. I shall do my utmost to find these missing children and stop whoever is behind this,” Sentry explains. 

“So, you’re trying to be a hero, here?”

“I am simply here to protect those who need it,” Sentry states. 

Gordon nods once. “I hope you can do something about this.” He holds his right hand out as an offering.

Sentry takes it and shakes it once with a strong grip before letting go and taking hold of his cane once more and setting it against the ground. “Have a good night, Commissioner Gordon. I will be in touch.”

“Right. G’night.”

Sentry disappears into the dark alley, allowing the shadows to blanket him as he makes himself smaller and moves quickly to a connecting alley when he hears Gordon’s car start. If Tim still has any skill from his stalking days, it should look to the other man as if the shadows did actually swallow Sentry whole.

Once away from that area, Sentry orders a different uber, this one an older man with a gray beard who neither flinches or tenses at Sentry’s figure and demeanor. Once dropped off close to Mr. Vance, Tim slips the mask and goggles off in a dark corner and rejoins Mr. Vance in the car.

“Mr. Drake, back to the manor?” 

“Yes, thank you.” Tim sees that it’s 12:23 AM on the dash of the car. 

Once back at Drake manor, Tim wishes his driver goodnight and limps back into his manor and locks up before removing his suit in his closet. Once dressed in comfortable sweats, he places the file next to his computer. 

He quickly checks his systems and security. Nothing unusual, just a few more pokes from Oracle. Tim runs through some information from his automatic system, Scout, that records police scanner findings and highlights anything unusual it may come across. All that’s been highlighted is that Nightwing was spotted stopping a robbery and a few muggings. Batman was spotted only once, down by the docks. Nightwing primarily operates out of Bludhaven so he’s come to Gotham. Batwoman is now being spotted again, she fell off for a while about five months ago. Tim knows that Kate Kane (Batwoman) broke a few bones in a large-scale Arkham breakout and has just now probably fully healed and is back in the vigilante game.

Tim sits down and runs every page of the file Gordon gave him through the scanner to have it transfer to his computer back ups. He begins reading in depth everything and also starts researching the shelters and food pantries in the area of the disappearances. He compiles a list of every single worker and volunteer and starts running systems to find any discrepancies or unusual activity. After setting up automatic systems, Tim takes a quick shower, takes his meds, and falls into a deep sleep.

He wakes at 9 and slaps a few extra lidocaine patches on his achy leg after breakfast and props it up on pillows to rest while he starts his research.

Of the list he compiled, he separates out all the non-suspicious and then starts picking out the non-dangerous suspicious (a few people stealing or laundering money he can get later). He starts another automatic system he’s named Watcher that runs background checks and flags suspicious activity (this program has taken a good chunk of time and is one of his most complex programs) to start running all the ones that are even a little suspicious. Scout is for audio and Watcher is for written/typed info. He also has Overwatch, which he recently finished, that he can run with video as a ‘I need to find this person/thing’ and have the program go through the feeds looking and tracking a specific person’s movements. That one he’ll probably use once Watcher finds suspicious things.

While his programs are running, Tim starts researching the victims and their movements. Gordon included info that’s ‘I don’t have info but here’s a picture’ and ‘I have a name or nickname but nothing else’ so at least something to go off of. 

He spends the morning and lunch compiling all he can on the kids he has info on.

He starts making headway when he finds that one of the volunteers is actually someone some of these kids actually trusted. Lillian Jones is an eighteen year old freshman at Gotham U who managed to get a full ride with her track and field skill. She volunteers every Sunday when she doesn’t have class or practice; her grades are good. She’s also an aged-out orphan of crime alley. She’s also one of the few people who tried to report a missing kid but only once. (Tim makes a side note to do something mean to Officer Leon Aarons.) Another volunteer, an older man and war veteran, Sergeant Johnathon Lee Noble, is someone that regularly helps the kids when he can. Noble lives in crime alley and from the looks of it has possibly shot a few people in the defense of some of his younger neighbors. No charges were ever brought against him. He has some money from his army pension that he regularly tries to put back towards helping. These two are people who Sentry will have to speak to in person.

Watcher flags a few people as Tim finishes eating a late supper. He starts going through those files and flags one in particular to research more thoroughly. 

When the sun sets, Tim stretches again and tests how his bad leg feels (okay for the most part). Tonight is Sunday and he has a good chance to catch Lillian Jones on her way from the shelter if he can get there in time.

He prints off what he can and puts it in a different folder to take with him to show his potential witnesses and get anything they are willing to tell him.

He suits up and messages Mr. Vance as well as orders an Uber. Similar to last night, he gets into Gotham and gets the Uber driver to drop him off close to but not in sight of the shelter. He tips the woman (a woman with dyed red hair, tattoos, and who played the Frozen movie music the whole time while singing along) and she waves bye as she drives away. 

Sentry walks the last short distance and watches from the shadows while taking stock of any traffic (foot or vehicle) as well as looking for any cameras in the area (there’s only one that is the actual shelter’s and must be on a hard drive and not connected to the internet). Sentry is positioned so that when he sees Lillian Jones leave at 11 PM, her path takes her past the alley he waits in the shadows of.

He waits till she’s about 15 feet from passing. 

“Miss Jones,” He greets normally.

The teen flinches and whips out a taser from her hoodie pocket. “I will tase you!” she snarls, her short brown hair held back by a headband and her dark eyes focus on Sentry as he moves so she can see him.

“I mean you no harm, Miss,” Sentry says softly. 

As she catches a full view of him, her hands begin to shake slightly. “Who th’fuck, d’you think y’are?”

“My name is Sentry.”

“What d’ya want with me?”

“I want to find Luca, Mark, Jenna, Tony, Ronnie, Keys, Dottie, and any other kid that has been taken.”

Lillian hesitates. “What? No one cares about them. They’re just alley kids. The cops did nothin’!”

“I care,” Sentry says solemnly.

“Why? No one else does.”

“I protect Gotham and the people who need it. These children need it. You’re right; the cops failed. I am not a cop. I will look for them and do my absolute best to rescue them.”

“No one ever helps us,” Lillian whispers.

“I will,” Sentry promises. “I will not turn a blind eye on those who need help. Never.”

Lillian Jones lowers the taser. “I. I don’t know how t’help ya.”

“That is quite all right, Miss Jones. I have a file here, I’d like you to look over it. Tell me what you can about the kids who are missing and anyone who’s either suspicious or you think might be able to tell me more. If you have a better idea of when or where the children have been taken that could help too.”

She stares at Sentry as he pulls the folder out of his coat and hands it to her. Taking it, she glances through the pages quickly. “You’re serious about this. This looks like you actually care.”

“I am. I do. No one deserves to be forgotten or abandoned.”

“Shit, man.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “Call me Lily. Let’s sit at the bus stop; ain’t no one there this late but there’s a lamp down there.”

Sentry nods and follows her. After they sit on the metal bench under the lamppost, Sentry motions to the folder Lily still holds tightly. “Miss Lily, do you know how many kids have actually been taken?”

“Yeah,” She looks at the list and then pulls a red pen out of her bag and starts writing notes on the sides. “So the first one was actually Renee and then there was…”

For the next hour, Sentry listens intently to Lily explaining what she knows (mostly all about the kids). Turns out that there are eleven kids missing, the last one was twelve year old Minnie two nights ago. Some of the kids, there are really just nicknames (Lily explains that some alley kids just never give out real info but she also gives really good descriptions of them all).

“I’m sorry that I don’t know anything better,” Lily says quietly as she stares at the couple pictures Sentry had in the papers. “I’m not around enough to see all the suspicious folks.”

“You know the kids,” Sentry argues. “That is a very important part of this. The victims matter. I need to know who I’m looking for.”

Lily neatly puts all the pages back in the folder as she chews on her lip. “Do ya think you’ll actually be able to find them? Do you think they are even alive?”

Sentry doesn’t look away from her as he takes a steadying breath. “I do not know if they are still alive. There’s a chance I won’t be able to save their lives. But if they are alive, any of them, I am going to give everything I have to getting them back.”

“And if they’re all, if they’re all dead?” Lily whispers.

Sentry taps his cane against the ground. “Then I will give the killers hell. I will ruin everything of theirs, tear their lives apart, burn everything they have to ashes and make sure they pay.”

Lily nods. “If you get them. If…if they’re still alive, bring them back to the shelter I work at. Miss Maureen can make sure they’re okay and get them any medical attention or food they might need.”

Sentry says nothing.

Lily side-eyes him. “You ain’t like Batman, are ya?”

“How do you mean?”

“Just turn kids over to the authorities even though that is worse than the streets a lot of the times.”

“No,” Sentry hums, “I’m not like Batman. If the best way to protect them is to not tell the police exactly what happened and where they are, then I will not.”

Lily nods. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for speaking to me,” Sentry responds. “Do you need an escort to your living quarters?”

“Nah, dude, I’ll be fine,” Lily answers with a smirk. 

Sentry stands and offers her a head bow. “Get home safely, Miss Lily.” Sentry turns and walks back the way he came.

“Good luck, Sentry,” Lily calls after him before she jogs off. 

The next night, after more research and investigating, Sentry shows up at Sergeant Noble’s house in crime alley at 10 PM. Leaning against an old brick wall, Sentry waits in the shadow of the steps to the house. He holds his cane in his right hand and the file in his left. The sergeant should be returning from his monday shift at the food pantry as usual. A few more minutes, and Sentry watches his witness pull a beat up old car over to park in front of the house. The 73 year old man climbs out and walks toward his front door, though he pauses when he catches the reflective glint of Sentry’s goggles.

“Sergeant Noble,” Sentry says as he steps out of the shadows.

“And what are you?” Sergeant Noble asks in a low, gravelly voice. The man’s right hand inches toward the gun that Sentry knows the veteran conceal carries. 

“I am Sentry,” Sentry says. “I am looking into a trafficking case, eleven missing children from crime alley and surrounding area. I have a file here. I would appreciate you looking through it.” He holds up the folder to show the other man.

The old man raises one gray brow. “Is that right? Hrmph. Why me?”

“You are one of the clean volunteers in the area who may have noticed any suspicious activity. You volunteer a lot and have been for decades. Your wife was a nurse who ran one of the shelters before she died of cancer seven years ago.”

The sergeant looks the vigilante up and down. “You an associate of Batman?”

“No, Sir,” Sentry admits. “But someone asked me to look into this. I am here to protect Gotham. Batman is…struggling; I am here to help where I am able.”

“Huh.” A long pause. “You better come inside, Sentry. We can sit at the table and go over your file. I don’t want to stand out in the chill with my old joints for too long. And you look like you actually need that cane.”

Sentry nods. “Very well, Sir.”

Sigh. “Just call me John. No need for any bullshit.”

Sentry follows John up into his house and into the small but clean kitchen. For the next two hours John looks over all the pictures and information Sentry printed in preparation of this. Sentry writes neat notes on all the insights John gives. There are a few people that John is very suspicious of that Sentry plans to look into (i.e. research extensively and then go terrify in person). John also lists some of the people who genuinely care, including Dr. Leslie Thompkins (who Tim knows is the doctor that works with Batman and associated vigilantes). 

After they are done talking, Sentry gathers all his files and packs them back away into his coat and stands to leave.

“Thank you for your time, John,” Sentry says. 

John stands as well and offers a handshake, which Sentry accepts.

“You know, kid,” John begins cautiously. “You could get hurt doing this. You could be killed.”

Sentry nods. “Yes.”

“You’re still going to do it, though.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sentry hesitates. “I became Sentry to help and protect. These kids need someone to step up. Police have written it off. Batman isn’t doing well. I will become the guard who watches over Gotham. I won’t walk away just because it is dangerous or hard. I am not afraid of hard work.”

“Hmmph, well, be careful out there, Sentry. Gotham needs more good guys.”

Sentry nods and leaves quietly. 

Once he’s back at the manor, Tim starts running Overwatch on the specific people to try to find them on the cameras of Gotham to track their movements and Watcher to do a few more in depth checks on some people. He continues to compile all the information he’s gathered. After he leaves everything to run on his computers, he goes to take a hot bath to help relax his bad leg. After that he turns in for the night, planning to check the systems again in the morning.

Chapter Text

Pain wakes Tim the next morning. The muscles in his calf and around his knee cramp as a deep burning ache encompasses his ankle and knee. 

“Fuck,” Tim cries as he struggles to sit up to try to massage the cramps out of his leg. He reaches over to grab his pain pill and muscle relaxers, swallowing a dose of each. Then he grabs topical analgesic and rubs that all over, still trying to get it all to relax.

Once he’s able to move slightly easier, Tim soaks in a hot bath to try to help the muscles in his leg. After a good soak, he applies some lidocaine patches and uses his wheelchair to traverse the house for breakfast. Tim spends a large chunk of time during the day at his computers with his leg propped up, interspersed with meals and muscle massages for his leg. By the night, his leg feels a lot better but Tim knows he can’t risk going out and walking a lot. He’ll just have to do stuff at the manor for another day or so. 

With the info given by his witnesses and some good ole hacking and investigating, Tim manages to find a group operating in Gotham that is currently trying to push out some of the other crime families. This new group is trying to put a foothold in human trafficking and has pissed off the Falcones and Maronis. A pair of brothers, Frank and Antony Aiello, are currently in Gotham for their uncle, who’s based in upstate New York where they have a stronger force. From all the camera footage, Tim gathers that they have a smaller squad of their own people and have hired a few local goons (Tim hacked the GCPD for all their organized crime files to cross reference). Tim also locates where they’ve been hiding out and starts watching the footage and keeping track of all the vehicles and crew that come and go. 

Over the next two days, Tim does research and on the second night goes out as Sentry with a good quality camera and some scopes that have thermal and night vision as well as audio equipment like a long range listening device he spent a week building while he was still recovering in the villa. He carefully settled himself on a nearby rooftop for his stakeout and used all the equipment available to get what he needed. In the four hours of the stakeout, Sentry finds out that the Aiellos are getting pushed out of Gotham by other families and also have an auction set up in their home city for the kids. In two days, they are planning to transport the kids by a single van. They are planning to only take a few guards to try to be subtle. Knowing that is when he’ll have the best chance at getting the kids out safely, that is when Sentry will have to strike. He takes all the recordings and pictures he has back to Drake Manor and compiles it neatly in his personal files as well as onto a drive that he plans on giving to Commissioner Gordon.

He takes the next couple days to rest his bad leg and keeps an eye on the Aiellos through cameras and his programs. Tim also sends an email to Gordon with instructions to take a group of trusted officers to arrest the Aiello brothers (and raid their temporary base) the same night Tim plans for Sentry to rescue the transported kids. He includes a meet spot for after at the same place as last time. Gordon replies with a tentative affirmation.

The night the transport is going to happen, Tim takes two guns with him as well as other equipment. One gun is a tranquilizer with fast acting tranq darts. The other is a 9 mm handgun, simple yet effective. He then has Mr. Vance (who doesn’t ask him about the tires Tim loads up and drops on the side of the road even though he looks confused) drop him off along the road out of Gotham he knows the van is going to take (hacked the Aiello brothers’ phones to make sure). Mr. Vance leaves to go wait in an out of the way street over in crime alley under orders that he might get called somewhere else. Out of a backpack, Sentry pulls out spike strips and sets up a few automatic traps. 

Once Sentry picks up the Van coming through a scope, Tim readies the tranq gun and traps; the 9mm he keeps holstered at the right side of his belt. 

The van hits the spike strip perfectly and skids to a halt about 10 yards from Sentry’s position. When two of the guards step out of the van, Sentry tranqs them in rapid succession before they spot him. Then the next two jump out and rush him after they watched him take out the first two. The first two drop in five seconds, the third right after, while the fourth makes it all the way to Sentry without being hit by a tranquilizer dart. Sentry swings his cane up in a well practiced move that gave Deathstroke many bruises. The cane cracks across the man’s wrist of the hand holding a knife, most likely breaking a bone. Then Sentry swings the cane up and across the man’s head before he can really find his bearings, hitting him in the temple and knocking him out much more painfully than his comrades. Overall it’s a fast and efficient fight that Sentry doesn’t need to jump or run around for. Sentry holsters the tranq dart gun in the holster at his left side in a shoulder holster.

Sentry switches his goggles’ vision for thermal and picks up only the kids left in the van before switching back to normal vision. In the light of van headlights, Sentry quickly zipties the four men and drags them so they aren’t in danger of being run over. His knee and ankle are burning with mild pain from dragging four heavier-than-him men around. Then, finally, Sentry walks quickly to the back of the van to find all eleven children tied and gagged sitting and watching him approach.

Sentry pauses a little ways away and decides to lift the goggles to his forehead and looks over the children. They are scared, bruised, dirty, and hungry looking. But they are alive. Tim feels the tidal wave of relief crash over him for a moment, almost bringing tears to his eyes.

“Hello,” Sentry greets in a calm level tone. “My name is Sentry, I’m here to rescue you. I am a new vigilante of Gotham. I am going to start untying you. I would like you to tell me if you are injured and need medical attention. Afterwards, I’m going to make sure the van is drivable and then I will take you back to the shelter in Gotham and straight to Miss Maureen. At least, that’s what Lily told me to do.”

The kids are still wide-eyed, so Sentry starts by untying them.

The oldest kid, Devon Stride, is the first to talk. “You know Lily?”

“Yes, I spoke with her when I started investigating your disappearances. She  threatened to taze me before I convinced her that I was going to help.”

One of the other boys, Luca, snorts as he rubs his bruised wrists. “Yeah that’s Lily.”

One of the youngest girls looks up at Sentry with big brown eyes. “Mister Sentry, are you working for Batman?”

Sentry smiles though the kids can only see the corners of his eyes crease with it. “No, Minnie, but he’s going through a rough time right now, so I stepped in to help Gotham.”

Sentry checks over each of the kids with varying degrees of thoroughness to match the kids’ individual attitude towards him. Some want bandaids and cream, a few want their rope-burned wrists wrapped in gauze. Minnie is the first to ask for a hug but a few others follow her lead. Sentry nearly tears up again but holds himself together. 

Once the kids are settled with a pouch of various protein bars, water bottles and a small med kit (which is all in a small pack Sentry brought with him), Sentry changes the two tires necessary and leaves the busted ones with the tied up goons. He checks to make sure no hazards are in the road and that he’s leaving nothing (except the busted tires and unconscious goons) behind. Then he calls 911 to get some cops out to pick the four goons up before he makes sure the kids are settled once more and climbs into the driver’s seat. He carefully drives the kids exactly where he told them he would. 

Once at the shelter (making it at 11:20PM), Tim opens the doors for the kids, originally planning to just watch them walk in and then leave. But then the youngest, a boy named Ethan, and Minnie grab hold of him and ask Sentry to walk them inside. Sentry is surprised that even some of the older kids linger close to him. Adjusting his goggles and grabbing his cane in his right hand and Ethan’s hand in his left, Sentry leads the eleven children through doors. 

Upon their entrance, the front desk volunteer, a woman in her thirties jumps up with an alarmed cry. 

“It’s okay, Miss Maureen,” Luca says as he steps up beside Sentry. “He saved us.”

The woman (tall, dark skinned, with pale eyes and braided hair) gasps. “Oh God. Luca? Jenna? Devon? Minnie? You’re all okay?” Maureen starts crying as she rushes forward to start hugging the kids, most of them let her. “Oh thank God, you’re all alive.”

After a few minutes of tears, Maureen ushers the kids back a hallway, five of them (Minnie, Ethan, Luca, Carmen, and Ronnie) take an extra moment to say bye to Sentry. Once all the kids are out of the reception area, Maureen Barnes turns to study Sentry.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” Maureen says.

“My name is Sentry,” he explains. “I’m a new vigilante of Gotham. The commissioner asked for my aid when he realized there was a group of kids going missing and the cops weren’t cut out to find them. I tracked them down and picked them up while they were being transported out of Gotham.” I get the feeling this woman is shrewd enough to not want any bullshit, just straight facts.

Maureen nods. “You can call me Maureen.” She reaches a hand up to touch what seems to be an antique cross pendant on a braided silver chain. “I took over this shelter when my father died. It’s the last one in crime alley. No cops come here and no CPP officials either; they’re all too scared. I don’t turn the kids in and I try not to turn people away. I don’t always have enough beds or food or medical supplies, but I try. I’m doing my best here.”

Sentry reaches out slowly to gently cup her elbow. “I’m not here to turn anyone in to anybody. I did this to save those kids. I’m going to leave to turn information over so that the traffickers will be arrested and tried for their crimes. The children are safely in your hands, ma’am. I am not going to try to change that.”

Maureen lets out a large sigh. “Thank you. I. I wasn’t sure if I was ever gonna see any of them again. There are plenty of people in this place that need help and not all of them reach out. I try to give the kids especially a chance.”

“You are doing good work,” Sentry says softly. He slowly reaches into the pocket of his waistcoat to pull out a business card. “If something like this happens again, message this number. I will make time to look into it.”.

The card is matte black with a silver border and red lettering: 

Sentry of Gotham

(XXX)-XXX-XXXX

Maureen takes the card but her gaze is fixed on Sentry’s side. “Why the ‘R’? Your name is Sentry.”

Sentry realizes she saw the embroidered R. “That is in memory of Robin. He was my inspiration.” No sense in lying about this. “Gotham lost something when Robin died; I’m trying to honor his memory by bringing some of the hope he inspired back into this city.”

Maureen smiles as she once more looks up to Sentry’s face. “I see. Thank you, Sentry.”

“Glad I could help. Have a safe night, ma’am.” 

Sentry turns and walks out of the building. Climbing back into the van, he makes sure he has all of his things back and he’ll be leaving nothing behind. Then he starts the vehicle and drives to meet Gordon, who is waiting at the meeting spot. Sentry parks and leaves the keys behind as he climbs out. Walking up to Gordon, Sentry takes a moment to study the Commissioner. Gordon looks tired but hopeful, clean shaven but bags under his eyes.

“Sentry,” Gordon greets.

“Hello, Commissioner,” Sentry responds. He pulls a flash drive out and hands it to Gordon. “This has everything necessary about this case.”

“And the kids?”

“Eleven children rescued and in a safe place. Minor injuries, shaken, but I believe they will recover from this ordeal.”

Gordon smiles. “Well, damn. You did good work, Sentry.”

“This case went smoothly, yes.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.”

Gordon huffs slightly. “You’re not exactly what I expected.”

Tim smirks beneath Sentry’s mask. “I do not mind being the unexpected.”

Gordon’s expression becomes more serious. “I suppose I might be seeing more of you around then?”

Sentry inclines his head. “That is most likely.”

“Well, I guess I’ll email you if I need your help again,” Gordon says with a slightly questioning tone. 

“I’ll gladly help when I can,” Sentry responds.

Gordon nods. 

Sentry holds out the keys to the van.

Gordon takes them with a raised brow. 

“The traffickers’ van. I’ll leave it in your capable hands,” Sentry says, a smile can be heard in his voice. “Have a good night, Commissioner.”

Gordon chuckles slightly. “Night, Sentry.”

Sentry turns and limps away as he hears Gordon call that he needs a pickup of the van. Sentry walks until he is almost to the spot he told Mr. Vance to wait at before he pulls his goggles and mask off.

Really need a different solution before someone catches me in this suit but without the mask. It’ll be nice when the base is done and I can operate out from there.

After Mr. Vance drops Tim off at the manor, he changes out of his costume, takes a hot shower, and sits down to clean his weapons used and to write a report for his records. Then he takes some of his meds, wraps his ankle and knee in some lidocaine patches before flopping down onto his mattress for some well-earned sleep.

Chapter Text

Three weeks after Sentry helped rescue the kids, a short and very blurry video surfaces for a short time of Nightwing tackling Batman away from lunging after a couple of Two-Face’s henchmen. Tim sees it because his systems flagged it and he downloaded it before Oracle was able to wipe it (and she can’t easily get past his defenses). Tim learns that Two-Face was arrested right after with some of his henchmen. All with mild to moderate injuries. There was even a Bruce Wayne sighting at a museum display opening. The picture shows him to be cleaned up and not abnormally pale like the last few (incredibly rare and far apart) sightings of him since Jason died. It seems as if Nightwing has indeed stuck around and is trying to curb Batman’s behavior. When Tim actually goes through and runs the statistics, it seems as though Batman has been seen less for a few weeks now, as if someone(s) is/are making him stay home and not run himself into the ground and kill himself through exhaustion or suicide-by-goon/rogue. There’s been a steady decline of sightings; and now his schedule is starting to resemble what it used to be when Robin was still with him. 

This gives Tim a little more hope that Batman/Bruce can be saved from himself. 

Over the past three weeks, Sentry has gotten two other case files from the commissioner. One was a murder that was weird (was made to look like the occult but Tim discovered it was a woman obsessed with someone and murdered her when she was turned down, then tried to cover it up and did a decent job until Sentry came along and realized the victim had a stalker) . The other was a kidnapping case (a woman was kidnapped by her psycho half-brother who thought she was getting more of their father’s inheritance and thought that if it looked like she was missing, it would all go to him). Sentry found the woman and was able to get her safely home while sending the brother to Jail with a broken nose and a slight stabbing to the shoulder (from Sentry’s fist and cane sword respectively).  

Along with those cases, Sentry has been spotted a few times visiting Crime Alley (Miss Maureen left a message saying Lily wanted to talk to him, which resulted in a hug and tears; Tim was slightly uncomfortable but enjoyed seeing the kids recovering). Sentry was also spotted in Bowery (where he found the kidnapped woman) and in East Side (where the murder took place). Tim has found a few posts on different social media platforms of Sentry. Most of them asking who the new vigilante is. There was even a popular post made by one of the uber drivers Sentry hired that said “he’s a quiet dude but tips super well, I think he’s one of the good guys” while showing a picture of Sentry from behind walking away from the car. Tim can admit the picture looks kind of cool with his cane and billowing trench coat. 

There was one time that Tim almost ran into Nightwing. When he was investigating in East Side, Sentry was looking for some clues and saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. Without even waiting or turning to make sure, Sentry booked it. He slipped down two alleys and relied on all the natural stealth skills he has leftover from his vigilante stalking days to hide in the shadows. From his hiding spot, he was able to snap a picture (once a stalker, always a stalker, Tim) of Nightwing mid-jump between two roofs. Nightwing had paused and Sentry overheard the older man saying that he had lost visual before leaping gracefully away. Tim knows that Nightwing is at least looking for him when he catches sight of him. It doesn’t seem overly aggressive though. And also, Tim doesn’t think Batman is aware (whether that means Oracle and Nightwing are purposely keeping info away from him or Bruce is just not keeping up with everything, Tim isn’t sure).  

That was also the night he started working on his newest piece of tech. It’s just a prototype of a scrambler-type area-of-effect device that can cut out camera feeds and scramble a small area of internet and service about 20 ft radius or a 40 foot diameter of area. Prototype name is Lapse. He hasn’t had a good reason to test it in the field yet, but when he tried it at a small coffee shop, it did indeed cut off and scramble everything for exactly a minute before it all went back to normal. Tim has a feeling, it will come in use at some point.

He’s had a few more bad pain days, but he’s becoming well-versed in how to deal with them. Tim has also begun to go out (just normally as Tim Drake). He has a new coffee shop he goes to in Coventry. He’s had a few calls with his parents and he’s started helping with Drake Industries work (officially as the assistant to the man in charge of R&D department) to start building his experience and name up to one day take over for his parents. Janet also informed him that there is a large gala at one of the art shows coming up in a few months that they will be coming to Gotham for and want Tim to join them (Tim agreed of course). Things are starting to look up a little bit; Tim’s feeling kind of hopeful.

One normal morning, still early, Tim eats breakfast and does his normal stretching. He makes an appointment in a month’s time for him to go to an expensive suit shop to get a new suit (he’s grown and gained some muscle, although he will probably always be slim and lean).

Just as he is beginning to think about lunch, the doorbell rings through the house. 

Tim tilts his head where he was searching through his databases, keeping an eye on things. I’m not expecting any deliveries today. He turns to one of his monitors and pulls up the front door security camera.

The young black woman wearing gray slacks and a cardigan over a pale blue blouse, and holding a folder is frowning as she glances around on the front landing. Pulling up Watcher, Tim easily finds the woman’s identity. Tamara Fox. The daughter of Lucius Fox, the man who pretty much runs Bruce’s business. Lucius Fox definitely knows Batman’s identity, so there is a possibility Miss Fox knows as well. Miss Fox has a business degree and has worked in Wayne Enterprises but quit over six months ago. She’s been working as a doctor’s assistant since and from what Tim sees in his shallow searches, she hasn’t been overly close with her family since.

What could she possibly want with me? We’ve never met. Tim thinks as he watches Miss Fox reach out to ring the doorbell again.

Sighing, Tim stands, grabs his cane and makes his way to his front door. Once there, he unlocks the door and pulls it open. 

Tam Fox pulls her hand back from the doorbell quickly and turns her face so she can stare at Tim. Her dark eyes scan him from head to toe (making a pit stop to glance at the cane) and back up to meet Tim’s ice blue eyes. She is slightly shorter than Tim, who is 5’6”; Tim would estimate about 5’3” without her short heels she’s currently wearing.

“Is there something I can help you with, Miss Fox?” Tim asks calmly as he stares her down.

She doesn’t flinch, though her eyes twitch like she kept herself from glancing away. “I don’t need your help, Mr. Drake. Or at least, I’m not really asking for your help in the normal way. No. I mean. I am here because I think I can help you.”

This time when Tim narrows his eyes and straightens his shoulders (he knows that he can remind people of his mother at times, who is known for being especially sharp-tongued and shrewd), Tam shifts slightly as she looks away for a moment before looking back.

“And how do you think you can help me, Miss Fox?” Tim asks, his tone cool but level.

She squares her shoulders, raises her chin, and opens her mouth. “I want to help you as Sentry.”

None of Tim’s muscles move, frozen suddenly, but he feels his heart beat faster for a few moments. Oh, shit. What the hell do I do now? “What makes you think that I’m Sentry?” At least my voice stayed steady, almost condescending. Yes. Good. Be like Mother. ‘Make them question themselves to stop questioning you.’

“I have a couple pictures. Of you, switching your mask off in the East Side a week ago.” Her hands clench the folder tightly. “I swear no one else knows. I took the pictures, I was there visiting a friend.”

Shit.

Tim holds his free hand out and is slightly surprised when she hands the folder over without argument. She remains silent as he opens it to see two pictures of Sentry taking off his mask and goggles off and Tim Drake underneath. He sighs slightly before closing the folder and tucking it beneath his arm. He looks back at the woman standing in front of him.

“I can and will destroy evidence of this if you try to blackmail me with it,” Tim threatens. Batman and Co. might protect her but I can at least destroy evidence. I really don’t want to ask Mom if she wants to take Wayne Enterprises, I think she’d have too much pleasure in ruining Bruce Wayne. She'd probably be able to do it too.

She shakes her head. “I swear, that’s not what I want. I really do want to help.” Miss Fox takes a deep breath and clasps her hands in front of her. “When I saw Sentry, I was about to call out to him. When I realized that you were finishing up what you were doing, I admit I probably shouldn’t have taken the pictures, but I want to help you. No. I’m going to help you. I already know your identity now; that makes it easier.”

… I don’t think she is not going to let this go … Damn. Well, looks like I'm just rolling with it. Tim sighs. “Just. Come in and let’s talk where we can sit down.”

Tim leads Tam back to the sitting room in his suite and motions toward the couch. He grabs two water bottles from the mini-fridge and sets one on the table close to her before sitting in the plush armchair and lifting his left leg to rest on the ottoman. He cracks open his water and takes a gulp, setting it on the side table after. 

“Miss Fox, please explain what you meant,” Tim says.

“I was working at Wayne Enterprises with my father when…” she cuts herself off and her dark eyes widen. “Uhm…”

Tim smiles slightly. “I know who Batman is; I know who all of them are.”

She nods. “Okay. Well, I was working there when Robin…died. I’ve been watching my father worry about Bruce for so long now and I’ve seen how my father has been disappointed and anxious. I think sometimes he wonders if he should still be doing what he does for Batman. I've been watching as Batman continues to fall apart; sometimes I track 911 calls made about him at night. Batman is hurting people too much; he’s out of control. And from what I’ve been able to find, he hurt you too.”

Tim frowns as he rubs the handle of his cane. “What makes you think that?”

“I did my research, Mr. Drake. The official records of your accident said that you were in a car accident that left you with severe and potentially long-term injuries. But those reports and news articles about the 'Drake heir' were published a couple days after your parents had already moved you out of the country. It's odd considering that news like that would usually be available hours after you were checked into the hospital; after all the Drakes are a very influential family. Also, the injuries, while could've been sustained in a crash, could've also been from fall damage; it's a credible enough cover if no one actually looks too hard. Now, all of that can be ignored or brushed off by your wealthy parents forcing privacy, except for the last piece of information I had. There was one call made about someone seeing a small figure being thrown, by Batman, from a low roof. But that was just one report for a brief few hours that I happened to see because I was just listening in that night. By the next morning, there was no record of it happening; not even a police report or 911 call log of it. Someone, I assume Janet Drake, had pulled strings, bribed, or threatened people into erasing that evidence and keeping mouths closed. And then the news of the injured Timothy Drake came out. It made sense. You were the one Batman threw off the roof. And now you're back as a disabled vigilante trying to clean up Batman’s mess.”

Well… she’s not wrong. And she isn’t going to take my denying it. She’s certainly efficient. “What is it that you want to do?”

“I'm going to help you.”

Tim stares at her blankly. “... With what exactly?”

She smiles slightly. “I don’t exactly know what you need help with but I want to help you as Sentry. My father helps Batman.”

“I don’t need an engineer,” Tim says, confused.

“Good, I’m not one. I’m good with organizing, planning, and finding things. I could help with logistics or keeping your cases organized. Or I could help lighten your load as Timothy Drake: keeping track of appointments and helping with filing and plans. I know you’ve been working more in Drake Industries. I could even help drive you around as Sentry; your Uber drivers have been talking about you online. You probably can’t keep doing that.”

Tim gapes at her. “So you’re … giving me your resume to be my assistant? As both Timothy Drake and as my vigilante persona.”

She stares at him for a moment before grinning. “Yes. I am.”

Tim reaches up and massages his forehead. She does have a point in that Uber and my personal drivers won’t be viable for much longer. And even when Bruce started as Batman he had his butler and Lucius Fox. Tam Fox has known Gotham vigilantes’ secrets for years. She seems very genuine, if slightly aggressive.

Mom has mentioned a few times how efficient assistants/secretaries are some of the most important parts of running your empire. She has also told me to always treat them well. They tend to know everything about you and do a lot of the tedious things, and keep track of pretty much your entire schedule and life. Mom and Dad’s two personal assistants are some of the best paid individuals in DI and they know everything and control a lot in their steads. And here is one offering herself up to help me run my endeavors as Sentry and Timothy Drake both.

“Okay, fine,” Tim says.

“Wait, really?” she says breathlessly. “Just like that?”

Tim grins. “I appreciate your determination. Let’s discuss our cover story first. What do you say to being hired as my assistant? After all, I’m a young rich but disabled heir; I need all the help I can get.”

Here, Tam hesitates, a bit of embarrassment entering her eyes. “I. I didn’t do this for a salary, Mr. Drake.”

Tim’s smile softens. “I didn’t think that. But this takes up the vast majority of my time and to have you prepared to help me, I’d rather just hire you and pay you to do the things you’re going to have to do. And just call me Tim.”

“Alright, let’s do it. And no more ‘Miss Fox’, just Tam.”

Tim holds out his hand, which Tam accepts in a handshake.

For the next couple hours, the two set up the ‘official contract’ which includes Tam’s yearly salary, her official duties, and everything else that needs to be covered. Tim sends the contract to DI HR and his mother, who will make sure it goes through officially and quickly. Then Tim explains his Sentry set-up so far: the suit and weapons, the in-progress base, the computer programs, and the cases he’s worked on/is working on. He explains how he’s been getting from here to Gotham.

“Have you thought about getting a vehicle made for Sentry? If you do that, then I can drive you when needed.” Tam questions. 

“You just got introduced to all of this,” Tim points out. “And you’re already offering to drive me around and put yourself in potential danger.”

“And you can’t keep demasking yourself in the streets of Gotham to keep doing what you have been,” Tam scoffs. 

“That’s a good point,” Tim admits. “But we’ll need a discreet car we can take.”

“No, you don’t. Have you seen the Batmobile? If you’re going to be a vigilante in Gotham, you might as well enjoy the fun stuff.”

Tim grins. “Well, I don’t want a tank. So I’ll look into companies that restore and remodel cars with armor and other things. See what I can come up with.”

“Better be something cool,” Tam laughs.

Tim leans his cheek against his palm. “Yeah. If you’re going to be driving me around, you’ll need a way to hide your identity. My gear won’t fit you and could even hurt you. Would you like me to get you a professionally made mask? I’m assuming you don’t really want to be a true vigilante but I could also get you something that is at least slightly armored.”

“I will take the mask. I plan on wearing pantsuits when I’m out with you as Sentry so if you really want, you can get something that can blend with that or that I can wear under it all, but I don’t plan on getting into fights.”

“I’ll email my supplier.”

“How about you get started on your emails and I order some takeout,” Tam offers.

They decide to get chinese delivered. Tim hands over a card for her to pay for it and tells her he’ll get her a company card as well within a day or two. 

Tim starts sending messages back to those who responded to his contract emails. Then he sends out feelers about getting a car for vigilante work (untraceable but needs to be able to be reinforced). After an hour, someone responds. It takes a few back and forth emails to nail down exactly what’s going to happen. The mechanic has an older car that can be cleaned up and reinforced and painted to Tim’s specifications. The plan becomes a reconstructed/reinforced 1967 chevy impala four door with dark-tinted bulletproof windows, painted black cherry red, with a front-facing medieval knight helm symbol instead of the car emblems and “SENTRY” will be on the back plate. The mechanic estimates that Sentry will have the car in a week. 

Tam gets up to get the food when it gets to the manor as Tim finishes up the emails. They eat while Tim starts filling her in on the car plans. She nods along and starts making notes on her new phone. Tim had a few extras in case something happened to his Sentry-phone; he set one up and assigned it to Tam so she can have a heavily encrypted phone for Sentry business. He’ll also be getting her other tech for both Drake-assistant and Sentry-Assistant stuff. She informs him when the work contracts come into her email as she digitally signs and saves what she needs. 

They spend some time to take precise measurements and sending off some more order emails for a mask similar to his (that fits lower face and over the nose)  as well as a domino mask and some thin kevlar vests that Tam could wear under suit blazers and that would at least give her some defense. Tim and Tam also talk a good bit about many things. Tam learns that Tim’s parents are loving if absent and that Tim used to stalk Batman and Robin (when she found that out she paused what she was doing and stared at him blankly for an entire minute before remarking “So you’ve always been a little unhinged, got it.”; Tim couldn’t really argue against that so he shrugged). Tim finds that Tam is honest, intelligent, and efficient. She loves her father fiercely but is on the outs with him currently over the Batman issue.

Around 8 PM Tim’s computer alerts him that an email came in on his Sentry systems. Thinking it’s possibly the Commissioner with another case, Tim checks it. And freezes.

“Tim?” Tam asks as she comes up to the doorway. “What is it?”

“Oracle has emailed me,” Tim says, the words coming out slightly strangled.

“What does she want?”

Tim lets Tam read over his shoulder.

Sentry,

I would like to talk to you. It’s come to my awareness that we may be fighting the same fight. Would you be willing to meet with Nightwing in Gotham sometime? He would give you a comm so the three of us could talk. Batman will not be present, nor aware of this. We do not mean you harm. You’ve done good work so far. We just want to talk.

Oracle

Tam gently lays her hand on Tim’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

Tim glances at her. “I did kind of tell Nightwing that they needed to control Batman because he was losing his shit. Then blocked any attempt at confrontation or communication.”

“Hmm. What do you think now?”

“I hope we could be allies, though I won’t ever join their team officially.” 

“Tell her that you’re busy for the next week or so and see if they’ll wait to meet until you have more availability.”

Tim raises an eyebrow.

Tam shrugs. “Gives some time for the car to get here so I can take you. I’m not great backup but I can at least witness whatever they want. And also tests if they’re willing to wait and not push you.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Oracle,

I have important business currently to handle for the next week or so. Would it be all right with you and Nightwing to meet in a little over week's time? If this is to happen, it will need to be ground level and I get to choose the place.

Sentry

“Good,” Tam says from her position at his shoulder.

It only takes a few minutes for her to respond.

Sentry,

That’s fine. You can pick the place. Ground level is good. Email me when you know the exact date and place.

Thank you,

Oracle

Chapter Text

The next week consists of many meetings as Timothy Drake to establish Tam as his assistant/secretary. Tam receives her DI badges and a phone and an ipad to help her work as Tim’s assistant. Tim also spends days teaching Tam about his systems, programs, and tech to make sure she can run nearly everything if she needs to. Tam can’t hack but she learns the programs and activation codes easily. She adapts quickly to the dual-job that she signed up  for. She immediately starts aggressively organizing his schedule within DI work to make sure he won’t overwork himself. Tim also shows her Sentry’s email connections (the suppliers mostly); which she immediately asked if she should help run orders and supplies for Sentry. 

The conversation went like this:

***

“Should I contact them through Sentry’s email or one set up for me?” Tam asked as she looked over his past emails to the different manufacturers and suppliers.

“Hmm?” Tim turned to look at her. 

“Well, there may be times that I’ll need to order things while you're busy and while I could use Sentry’s, it may be easier if you set up something from my second phone. For efficiency’s sake at least.”

“Well…I could do that, yes. But I can’t just give out your name. I’d have to give my contacts your info and go ahead to contact you. You’d have to have an identity to go with this; I didn’t think that was something you’d wanted to do. Also, if you take this on, you might end up doing the vast majority of reordering and resupply orders.”

Tam nodded. “Yes, that sounds good. I can handle those things while you do actual crime fighting. And, yes, I’m not becoming a true vigilante, but I should probably have something for you and people who know you as Sentry call me. We can think of it as me being a support vigilante or vigilant support.” 

“Are you sure this wouldn’t be too much?” Tim asked quietly.

She leveled a semi-scolding look over her shoulder at him. “No. I am your assistant. This is all within an assistant’s purview. You handle the original contact and major things while I handle the simpler stuff. You work at your parents’ company helping create new things in R&D while I keep track of appointments, meetings, and such. No, this is not too much. This is support. Support that you are going to need as you work more at both. You can handle it, I can handle it. We are a team now.”

“Alright. What do you want me to introduce you as; do you have something in mind already?”

Tam pursed her lips. “Hmm. I’m part of your system. So, I’ll fit your theme. Call me… ‘Courtier’.”

“Courtier?” Tim asked. 

“They are advisers and companions to royalty usually. But I’m your partner and companion as a helper to Sentry. Courtier.”

Tim smiled. “Sounds good. I’ll get on with giving my usual contacts the update about you, Courtier.”

Looking a bit fervent, Tam smiled back. 

***

So Tim had sent emails to necessary people about his new assistant, Courtier, and if they have questions to email her and that she has permission to order things in his stead. It all went smoothly. 

Within that week, they also receive the order of Courtier’s masks (a dark red lower face mask and black domino mask with retractable lenses) and body armor (a kevlar weave high neck undershirt to provide her some protection). Tim provides her with a fitted pair of red leather gloves as well. Tam gathers a couple pant suits with black slacks, blazer, and black shirts. Tam gets a pair of low-heeled boots to go with it all. Tam also shows Tim her selection of wigs that she and her sister have that she can wear in a rotation so it will be harder to pin down what her hair truly looks like. She puts everything in the closet that holds Sentry’s suit and equipment.

Thursday starts with an email with a meeting time to pick up the car outside of Gotham. Tim’s personal driver asks no questions and leaves Tim and Tam at the abandoned gas station that night (where they both put their masks on once Mr. Vance drives away). Sentry and Courtier meet a bronze-skinned man with long hair as he drops the keys into Sentry’s gloved palm. The man introduces himself as Darius the Mechanic and tells the duo to call or email if the car ever needs maintenance or damage fixed. Then Darius simply climbs into the passenger seat of a secondary car and leaves. 

Courtier runs hand over the helm symbol on the hood of the car. “She’s beautiful, look at her, Sentry.”

Sentry nods as he looks over the vehicle. It truly came out looking beautiful with its near-black paint that reflects red. The car is classic looking with dark windows and black rims. Sentry and Courtier climb in (Courtier in the driver seat) and look over all the tech on the inside. There are integrated computers that Sentry will be able to use to track and as a gps. There are sensors and cameras around the entire car. And there is a button which activates a high voltage charger over the entire outside of the car that will be a powerful deterrent to attackers. There is also a system that will drop tire piercing devices behind the car to prevent people from being able to follow easily. The seats are leather (easy to clean) and can be heated. The back seat is bench style and has been remodeled so that the backrest can be unlocked and pulled down to give access to the heavily armored trunk where Sentry will probably keep other equipment or weapons. Everything is comfortable and beautiful. 

“We have to name her, Sentry,” Courtier says as she strokes a hand over the steering wheel. “A beautiful gal like this deserves a name.” 

Sentry chuckles. “You have something in mind?”

“Llamrei,” she offers, her voice soft but fond. “She is the steed to Sentry, so I thought naming her after a knight’s horse would be cool. Llamrei is the name of one of King Arthur’s horses.”

She must have put a lot of thought into this. Sentry nods. “Sounds good.”

“Welcome to the team, Llamrei,” Courtier coos. “Let’s get back to the manor.”

As Courtier drives, Sentry checks the storage in the front. The center console is deep and has three separate spaces, Tim plans to store medical supplies there. The glove compartment has a slot for a handgun as per his request and slots for ammo. Sentry nods, satisfied.

“I’m going to email Oracle once we are back,” Sentry says. “I’m going to schedule the meet up for Saturday.”

“Sounds good,” Courtier replies.

After parking and covering Llamrei in Drake manor’s garage, they go to Tim’s suite to remove their suits. Tam sits in an armchair as Tim settles at his computers. Tim pulls up his email and sends one over to the former Batgirl after getting Tam’s approval to let them know about her presence as well.

Oracle,

I am available this Saturday. 10 PM at [place in Crime Alley]. Ground level. I’m bringing a secondary. Her name is Courtier, she is my driver and assistant.

Sentry

It only takes about 10 minutes for Oracle to respond.

Sentry,

Thank you. Nightwing will be there. Talk to you soon.

Oracle

Saturday finds Tim and Tam dressing in their suits and leaving to go to Gotham proper in Llamrei. Once they are at the meeting place, Sentry steps out and leans against the hood of his car as Courtier waits in the car (just in case something goes wrong and a quick getaway is necessary). Sentry has his cane sword in hand and his tranq gun in his belt holster. 

Two minutes before 10, Nightwing drops down to street level with his acrobatic grace. He stands and offers a small smile in greeting as he slowly approaches where Sentry is leaning against Llamrei.

“Hello, Nightwing,” Sentry greets with a slow nod of his head. 

“Sentry,” Nightwing responds calmly. “I have a comm for you from Oracle.” He holds his hand out, the small comm unit sits on his palm for Sentry to take. 

Sentry does take it but looks it over quickly, a cursory glance for tampering, just in case. Then he reaches up to place it in his ear and flicks it on.

“Oracle,” Nightwing begins, “Sentry is active.”

“Hello, Sentry,” Oracle greets. Her voice isn’t disguised and is calm and level. “Thank you for meeting us.”

“You are welcome,” Sentry says. “What would you like to talk about?”

“We have a few questions,” Oracle says.

“I might have answers,” Sentry responds with a shrug.

Nightwing smiles, keeping his shoulders loose. Sentry knows that the older vigilante is trying to look less intimidating, peaceful even. Sentry is still well aware that Nightwing could break his bones as easily as Batman did.

Tim frowns (not that anyone can tell) and shoves that thought back further in his mind. No time for trauma thoughts.

“First, Courtier.”

“That is not a question, Oracle,” Sentry points out.

“When did she come into play? Is she going to be fighting with you?”

“Recently,” Sentry sighs. “And no. She’s in this as a support role to me. Courtier can communicate in my stead if need be but she will not always be out with me. She may get sent to do certain tasks or have communications with people for me. While she is not a combatant, she will defend herself if attacked.”

Nightwing nods. “Of course, that’s fine.”

“Next question,” Sentry prompts.

There’s a hesitation as Oracle takes a breath. “Do you have plans against Batman?”

“ Against Batman?” Sentry tilts his head to one side. “Only if Batman loses control and starts hurting innocent people. He’s terrifying civilians. I’ve had multiple people make comments about how Batman has changed and it’s not a good thing. He can’t hurt another civilian. If he doesn’t recover from this, then at most I would vie for his retirement.”

Damn. I didn’t want to mention the ‘hurt civilian’ part necessarily. Bad trauma thoughts, not right now.

“He hasn’t hurt a civilian,” Nightwing defends. “He wouldn’t. I-I know he’s hurt some too much, and has gone too far. But—”

“I know he has, but I do not have access to video or audio of the incident,” Sentry says lowly. Because I was the civilian. “Next question.”

Nightwing closes his mouth and frowns, his eyebrows furrowing. “Okay.”  A long pause as Nightwing studies Sentry. “Oracle, move on.”

“Right,” she says. “You are a detective, correct?”

“I have deduction, investigation, computer, and strategy skills. I have been trained in a few combat styles,” Sentry corrects. Not technically a detective, not old enough to be police nor PI. 

“You have helped the commissioner with some cases,” Oracle says.

“I have, yes. I’ve been sending him tips for months, and have helped him a few times when he asked for my aid.”

Nightwing smiles slightly. “He complimented you when I spoke to him last.”

“He said you do good work and the data you give is always organized and well-researched and documented,” Oracle explains.

“That’s still not a question.”

“You’re on our side, right?” Nightwing asks.

Sentry tilts his head. “I am on the side of innocent people and the civilians of Gotham. I will research and investigate what I find. I will get involved when I need to. You are heroes. I’m on the same side of the moral spectrum. But I am not part of the Bat-clan.” I won’t ever be. 

Nightwing’s expression goes blank. “That’s…fair.”

“People are talking about you,” Oracle interrupts. “You are starting to become known and even liked.”

Sentry nods. “I’m just helping where I am able.”

“We wanted to ask you for a way to contact you out in the field,” Oracle explains. “A connected comm or a phone you’d have on you.”

“Why?” Sentry asks.

“Halloween is in less than two weeks.” Oracle's voice has taken a nervous edge. “Some of the rogues tend to…be a little extra around this holiday. We’d appreciate your aid if we need back up. And I’d like a way to contact you if there is an emergency at other times. You seem to be capable and we would appreciate an alliance; we share a city after all.”

Sentry stands perfectly still as he studies Nightwing’s calm face and listens to Oracle’s tone. They do seem to be honest and sincere. And the fact that Halloween is coming up could be a problem. Oracle is right that some of the rogues are known to be extra psycho on Halloween. And it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to be friendly with some of the bats at least. 

“I will send a connection to my comm that you will be able to connect to when you need. Though I suggest you not try to hack me through it,” Sentry warns lowly. “You’re right about Halloween; it will likely be a trial. Are there any plans currently?”

Nightwing smiles. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. 

“The only rogue currently out is Two-Face, but he’s been laying low and he usually isn’t too fussy about holidays,” Oracle explains. 

“Halloween is a favorite of Scarecrow,” Sentry interjects. “He will probably try to escape.” And with how Arkham is, he’ll probably succeed. And by the frowning Nightwing, they know that too.  

“Batwoman and I will be patrolling,” Nightwing says. “And I don’t think we’d be able to keep Batman from going out.”

Sentry nods. 

“We can make antidotes to any fear gas that might appear and hospitals are always in stock of general antidotes that almost always work even if the fear gas is slightly different; the antidotes might just work slower. Do you have protection against fear gas?” Oracle asks.

“My mask will protect me from inhalants,” Sentry answers. “I am not currently set up to help with the chemistry capabilities of making antidotes. I also don’t have any fear gas antidotes.”

Nightwing shifts like he wants to move toward Sentry but stops himself. “We can give you some.” 

“We can provide multiple antidotes to many of the rogues’ chemical attacks,” Oracle offers. “Am I right to assume that you may be set up in the future with the ability for antidote manufacturing?”

“Yes,” Sentry responds. It’s one of the things I’ve been studying since I got hurt. Once my base is fully done, I’ll have all the necessary equipment. And with DI being a leader in healthcare manufacturing, I’ve already known these sciences. The stocked versions of the antidotes work because the multiple types have similar chemical compositions and so the general antidotes can usually treat the most variants; they might not be a perfect cure for new or rare variants but it can help negate some symptoms and speed up natural recovery. They will usually be effective enough to save lives even if recovery can be hard. “And thank you; I would very much appreciate any antidotes given.”

“Of course,” Oracle says, her voice a shade warmer.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“Are you going to have a main territory? Or will you be all over?” Nightwing asks curiously.

Sentry pauses as he debates how much to give away. “I will mostly cover Coventry, Crime Alley, Bowery, and Narrows most, with any areas in between or close as secondaries, but my investigations will most likely take me all over. I will go where necessary.”

Nightwing nods. “That’s fine. I was just curious. We can work with that.”

Sentry nods but doesn’t respond.

“Sentry, is there anything we need to know to be able to work with you as an ally?” Oracle asks.

Tim chews on his lip as he debates how much to say about his disability. They most likely already have figured it out so it’s not like I’m giving up anything new about myself. “My left leg is weaker. The cane isn’t a gimmick, I do need it. I’m still a capable fighter and I don’t need coddling.” Some frustration leaks into the last bit. 

Nightwing raises his hands palm out. “Hey, that’s fine.” His tone is practically saying ‘mean-no-harm’. “Is there anything you want to ask us?”

Sentry hesitates at the offer. He sighs. “Is Batman aware of me?”

“Yes,” Oracle answers calmly. “He knows that Sentry is a new vigilante-investigator. He doesn’t know much and isn’t very focused on you.”

Sentry hums. “Well, if he does come after me for some dumb reason and he gets too aggressive, I will tranq him and call you to carry him back to his base. I won’t take well to him trying to intimidate me.” I will shoot him, and then I will laugh at the video later.

“Understood,” Oracle says, sounding slightly strained.

Nightwing lets out a high-pitched giggle. “Oh my god, Sentry. You have a sense of humor under there?” Another cackle as he bends slightly under the laughter. “O, please, if Batman gets tranqed save the video of it.”

Oracle just hums over the comm.

Sentry raises an eyebrow. “You are not upset at my threat.”

Nightwing waves a hand through the air as he relaxes, the stiff posture melting away to reveal some of the first robin’s carefree attitude shining through. “Hey, man, I am not going to fault you if you have to knock his broody ass out.”

And suddenly, Tim is reminded of the few loud fights that he managed to overhear that the first robin had with Batman at the end of his tenure as Robin, before he left to become Nightwing. Tim knows that Nightwing and Batman (Dick and Bruce) don’t always get along. “Good to know,” Sentry murmurs. “I have no more questions at this time.”

Still smiling, Nightwing nods. “Thank you for meeting with us.”

“We will be in contact the closer to Halloween we get,” Oracle says. “Thank you, Sentry.”

“You’re welcome,” Sentry says. “I’ll connect a comm to your system soon. Goodnight, Oracle.” Sentry pulls the comm out of his ear and hands it back to Nightwing. “Goodnight, Nightwing, stay safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” Nightwing laughs. “Goodnight, Sentry. Catch you later.” He pulls out his grapple and swings away gracefully with a cheeky wave.

Sentry climbs back into Llamrei and turns to look at Courtier. She is gripping the steering wheel.

“That was a little nerve-wracking,” Courtier says, sounding a little more strained than usual. “You okay?”

Sentry nods. “Yeah. I’ll explain as we go back to the manor.”

Courtier drives them back to Drake manor after Sentry makes sure Nightwing and Oracle aren’t trying to track them. During the drive, Sentry explains everything that was discussed. After they are back in Tim’s suite in the manor and they are dressed in comfortable clothes, they sip hot chocolate and discuss Halloween.

“You think something is going to happen?” Tam asks. 

“It usually does,” Tim reminds. “I’ll leave major fighting to the bats if it comes down to that. But if I do have to get involved, I should be able to handle some of the rogues as long as I have antidotes available to me.”

Tam sighs. “Halloween in Gotham is always chaotic and hellish.”

“Yep. We’ll deal with it though.”

“Mmhmm.”

Tim closes his eyes as he leans his head back. “I can’t wait for the base to be ready. I’ll be able to get all the equipment to do a lot there. It’s going to be so nice when it’s ready.”

“Oh yeah, how's the progress going? When do they think they’ll be done?”

Tim smiles. “They’ve informed me that their construction is going very well and they are ahead of schedule. They’ve said sometime in December.”

“That’s pretty quick.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s a normal company,” Tim smirks. It’s not exactly legal so they aren’t getting permits and working around red tape and other stuff like that. “And I’ve paid all the incentives to have them working with multiple crews nearly round the clock.”

“Well, that’s good.”

After saying their goodnights, Tam leaves to go home and Tim goes to bed. 

That night Tim dreams about being thrown from rooftops and screams. He wakes up sweaty and sore, but Tam brings donuts and work in the morning and that works as a distraction. They start prepping for the coming crazy.

Chapter Text

In the week and a half leading up to Halloween, Oracle and Sentry established the connection in the comm units. Nightwing also gifted Sentry a case of antidote vials (6 fear gas, 2 joker venom, and various Poison Ivy toxins cures), all carefully labeled with a file on the chemical makeups of past variants of the different chemical weapons as well as the rundown on antidote-manufacturing. Sentry had thanked him and once he was back at Drake Manor had run through all the information given (it had been pretty in depth and more than what Tim thought they were going to gift him, such as the chemical formulas). After carefully studying the information, Tim fills a few auto injectable devices with the recommended dosage. Then he adapted one of his belt pouches to hold the antidotes and packs a few fear antidotes in anticipation for the need on Halloween.

Tim and Tam spend a few hours making contingency plans for what happens if Tim is gassed while out. Tim also preps a few sedation darts that Tam can use on him if absolutely necessary. 

Tim packs Llamrei with necessary supplies. The trunk holds larger traps for stopping vehicles, a few emp devices, a large advanced med kit, duct tape, rope, two grapple guns, a scope for stalking/recon, and a containment box. The backseat holds a couple blankets and a change of clothes for each of them under the seats that flip up. The center console is mostly containing the computer stuff so is left largely alone. Tim stores a 9mm pistol as well as a tranq gun and ammo in the glove compartment. 

Scarecrow escapes Arkham three days before Halloween. 

Tim and Tam continue their preparation as well as their ‘normal’ lives cover. Sentry stops by the shelter in Crime Alley two nights before Halloween to talk to Maureen to check on the shelter and her and give her Courtier’s contact info as well in case something happens and Sentry is busy with something on Halloween. 

Halloween day puts Tim on edge from the time he wakes in the morning, a sense of foreboding weighing on him. Tam and he spend the day trying to track villain movements and coordinating with Oracle as they haven’t been able to spot Scarecrow. They have a plan. Batman will patrol East Side, Robinsville, and the Bowery tonight. Nightwing will patrol Robinson Park, University District, Fashion District, and City Hall District. Batwoman will patrol West Side, Chinatown, Old Gotham, and Tricorner. Sentry (with Courtier as driver) will cover Coventry, Crime Alley, Burnley, and the Narrows. Agent A will keep watch over the unpatrolled areas via the Bat-systems to direct the vigilantes if needed. Oracle is watching all of Gotham and controlling comms. 

“No plan survives first contact” is a quote weighing on Tim’s mind. When he says as much to Tam, she agrees and says that Sentry will just have to be prepared to adapt.

The sun sets and the vigilantes dress for battle. Courtier wears a heavier vest under her button up shirt. Her mask is fitted with a rebreather attachment that will activate with the press of a button. She straps a high voltage taser to a thigh holster and runs a systems check over Llamrei to make sure her systems and defenses are optimal. Sentry buckles his tranq gun and holster to his right hip, his pistol to his side holster against his left ribs. His knives and antidotes are connected to holsters along his thighs and belt respectively. His mask fitted with his rebreather as well. Once Sentry grabs his cane, he climbs into his car and Courtier pulls out into the dark night, lit by streetlights and a thin crescent moon.

Once they drive into Gotham major, Sentry activates his comm unit. “Sentry is active,” he informs calmly. 

“Sentry,” Oracle greets. “No major movements yet but we are keeping our eyes peeled.”

Sentry hums in acknowledgement.

“You and I are on a private channel, Sentry,” Oracle explains, keys being pressed in the background noise. “I will inform you if something happens that needs your attention. Tell me if you need help.”

“Copy,” Sentry responds.

The first two hours are quiet as Courtier drives around and Sentry keeps watch through his systems loaded into Llamrei’s computers. Sentry is aware the “quiet” is putting everyone on edge. But they can’t do anything at this point until someone sees something.

Just as one of his systems catches movement in Coventry, Oracle calls over comms.

“Movement has started,” Oracle says.

“I have something in Coventry,” Sentry responds.

“Sentry, the movement is everywhere.”

There is a very tense pause.

“Everywhere?” Sentry asks. 

“You’re responding to something in Coventry. Batman to movement in the East Side. Nightwing near City Hall. Batwoman down in Tricorner. Plus smaller movements in other spots.”

Sentry frowns under his mask. “That sounds like someone is trying to spread us out.”

“Yes,” Oracle says, her tone like ice. “I don’t like it.”

“Keep me informed,” Sentry says after a moment. “I’ll try to keep this quick.”

Oracle signs off with an affirmative.

Once Llamrei pulls into some warehouses in Coventry, Sentry spies the three goons suddenly freezing where they are.

Sentry is able to deal with them efficiently with the use of his cane, zip tying them unconscious and concussed to a light pole. Sentry doesn’t bother trying to ask questions. He sees the equipment the trio were carrying (smoke bombs with fear gas) and can make the logical conclusions. He confiscates the smoke bombs into a special lockbox in his trunk for this kind of thing. Sentry climbs back into the car and sends a message to the police for goon pick-up as Courtier speeds away.

“Sentry,” Oracle interrupts. “You’re done with your suspicious movement?”

“Scarecrow goons with fear gas smoke bombs,” Sentry says. “Tied up and waiting for police pick up.”

“Yes, this seems to be what’s happening all over. Batman thinks Scarecrow is trying to distract so he can hit something more major but not sure what yet. But, I need you to make a quick stop in Otisburg; you’re closest.”

“More of the same?”

“Not quite. Something drew the goons away but I couldn’t see what. The others are still dealing with other problems popping up.”

“I’ll check it out.” 

After punching in the address to where Oracle directs them, Courtier speeds to the spot. Sentry realizes what happened when he arrives; it’s a short street with no camera coverage. Courtier pulls over and Sentry steps out to track where the goons may have gone. Upon seeing a slight blood splatter, Sentry ducks into an alley and pauses at the sight in front of him.

A tall dark-haired woman in mostly a lightly armored bodysuit, dark purple almost black material with a white stripe from high neckline to waist. Her kneehigh boots are slightly heeled and she has a short dark cape. She wears a dark domino mask with two highpoints that edge her hair-line. A hand crossbow hangs from her belt as she is busy tying four men in an unconscious circle around a large blue mailbox.

He reaches up to switch the comm so Oracle can’t hear what conversation may happen next, but Courtier can.

She pauses in what she’s doing to look over to Sentry.

Sentry tips his head to her. “Hello, Miss. I am Sentry. What may I call you?”

Her dark red lips twitch like she almost smiles but controls it. “I am Huntress. You with the Bat?”

“No,” Sentry says. “I guard Gotham and am tentatively allied with his clan but I am not one of his.”

“Huh,” she says as she finishes tying the knot. “Interesting.”

“Are you a vigilante, Huntress?” Sentry asks.

She frowns as she turns slightly away from him. “I am no hero,” she scoffs. She continues tying the knots. “You do not know me or what I’ve done.”

But I do. Tim thinks.

“Hmm. But maybe you could be,” Sentry offers softly. 

She tilts her head slightly but she doesn’t stop.

“You may have used more permanent violence than Batman when you avenged your family a year and a half ago, but you never once hurt an innocent.”

Huntress freezes, her gloved hands clenching on the thin rope. “You know who I am.”

“Yes,” Sentry answers, seeing no reason to lie.

“Batman would have me arrested. What will you do?”

“Nothing. Well, unless you become a threat to the innocent people of Gotham. Plenty of heroes have taken lives. Some even in anger or vengeance. Murder is wrong and illegal. Killing is sometimes what is necessary to save yourself or others. You may have killed in revenge, and that can be wrong; but I also believe your actions probably saved others as well.” In all honesty, it’s a gray area.

“So you think I had some bad reasons but ultimately it does good?”

Sentry pauses, thinking. “I think…you had understandable reasons that can lead to both good and evil. What you choose to do is what is important. What I think is that you have such amazing potential to do good and to protect people and maybe you just need someone to tell you that. You could be a hero. I think you could be a good one.”

She just hums thoughtfully. 

Sentry waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

“You and the bats are being slightly overrun right now because Scarecrow has more goons than usual distracting you,” Huntress finally says.

“It seems so,” Sentry agrees, allowing the subject change.

She nods. “I’ll watch over the area around here tonight. Give you some cushion.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not revealing myself to anyone else and I’m not answering questions.”

“Okay,” Sentry says and he turns to leave.

“Wait.”

Sentry pauses to look over his shoulder at her.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“What? Why? Don’t you want to know more?”

“Of course I do. But I’m not pushing you. You are more than capable of finding me if you did want to talk.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Be safe, Huntress.”

“...You too, Sentry.”

Sentry walks away, back to Courtier waiting in Llamrei.

“Who is that?” Courtier asks as she pulls away from the area.

“Helena Bertinelli.” Sentry informs. “A little before my confrontation with Batman, I accidentally saw a woman killing some mafia. A little stalking and a little investigating revealed that she is the daughter of the murdered Bertinelli family ten years before. She had come back to avenge her honor and her family’s brutal murder with the murder of the ones who orchestrated it. She was thorough, effective, and vindictive. She murdered them but hurt no child and never an innocent. Miss Bertinelli is an intelligent woman capable of great and well-planned violence. She is not afraid of blood or killing.”

“But you think she could be good?”

“I believe she already is,” Sentry corrects. “Batman has rules against killing and his brood tends to follow them. But many heroes don’t have those rules. And sometimes the bad guys can’t be stopped without killing them. She was being vengeful but she was also traumatized. It’s complicated.”

“...think you’ll see her again?” 

“I hope so,” Sentry says. “I think she’d make a good ally.”

He turns his comm back to Oracle. “This is Sentry, we have a temporary alliance with an unknown vigilante, Huntress. Leave her to it.”

“You think that will be okay?” Oracle asks, slightly tense.

“Yes. My systems show something in Crime Alley that I need to go take care of. Let me know if you need me to assist, Oracle.”

“Very well, Sentry.”

In the next twenty minutes, Sentry takes some joy from beating low-rate goons and stopping them from hurting anyone in Maureen’s shelter. Courtier tases a goon and kicks another in the balls so hard he keeled over with a high-pitched whine. Maureen is in the middle of thanking them when Oracle interrupts.

“Sentry, I need you in the Bowery.” Her voice is tight and almost breathless.

Sentry excuses them and rushes back to the car. “What’s wrong Oracle?”

“Batman found Scarecrow and was overdosed with an injected fear toxin. He is highly compromised.”

Please do not ask me to handle Batman. I know I said I’d tranq him but I don’t want another broken bone from that man.  

“What’s the situation currently?” Sentry asks, voice steady even as his heart is beating terribly hard against his ribcage.

“Batman is combative and emotionally compromised. Nightwing is containing Batman and getting him back to the Batcave. Nightwing has some minor injuries. Scarecrow is currently in the Bowery working on something and has possible plans to flood the streets in a third of Gotham with a new strain of fear gas.”

“What do you need me for?”

“Can you find and detain Scarecrow? Batwoman is further away and is now trying to cover most of Gotham with Nightwing and Batman unavailable.”

“I can go after Scarecrow.”

Courtier’s gloves creak as she tightens her hands on the steering wheel.

“I’ll keep as much as an eye on you as I can but there aren’t many cameras in the Bowery. Sentry be careful.”

“I will do my best.”

After Oracle lets the connection go, Sentry takes a deep steadying breath. 

“Sentry…” Courtier whispers.

“This is the better option.”

“What! How is taking on one of the most dangerous Rogues in Gotham the better option?”

“I could be facing an emotionally compromised Batman again.”

“Fuck…”

“Yeah…”

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

Llamrei pulls into the spot in front of the building Scarecrow disappeared into. Sentry, already armed, opens the door to get out.

“Courtier, stay in the car, electrocute anyone who approaches who is not me. I’ll keep our comms open so you can hear me.”

Courtier nods. “Be careful.”

Sentry nods, shuts the door, and limps into the building as he switches to thermal vision to possibly catch some details and turns his rebreather on. He makes his way steadily through the very rundown factory. There is a lot of debris but no thermal signatures yet. 

A small crash from the left has Sentry turning to look. He switches from thermal to night when no temp spikes appear. Some machinery and old torn cloth over in the corner looks suspicious but Sentry is fully aware it is simply something to try to make him scared or off kilter. Dr. Crane is an intelligent and psychologically manipulative fighter. Sentry simply turns and continues steadily on. Regular vision in his goggle lenses reveal some kind of fine mist around the area. 

So he has already set off fear gas and is possibly hoping to have me freaking out so he can slip away or kill me then slip away. 

A moment of temperature spike leads Sentry down a hallway. The hall opens to the large factory floor with multiple still conveyor belts and large machines.

Sentry, feeling a shift in the air, lunges into a side roll. As he pops back up, Sentry sees Scarecrow holding a sickle he had just tried to sink into Sentry’s shoulder. Sentry shifts his hold on his cane, holding it in a guard position across his body.

“You’re a new one,” Scarecrow purrs creepily from under his burlap mask. “What’s your deal?” He steps to the side as he tries to find an opening to strike.

“I am Sentry.” He turns to follow the movement but stays steady and calm.

“What’s with the cane? Are you injured?”

“I have found people don’t like being hit with it.”

The rogue seems to hesitate a moment. “You seem calm, Sentry.”

“You seem a little tense,” Sentry responds. “Frustrated maybe?”

Scarecrow scoffs. “My plans keep being interrupted. But at least I got Batman to start screaming for his poor little robin again.”

Tim frowns under his mask at the mention of Batman’s distress. “What are your plans, Dr. Crane?”

“I just like to watch what people do when high on fear. I wanted to see how many would try to run out onto the streets and how many would try fighting each other.”

I wonder if he was just going to start smoking people out of their homes with fear gas then. 

“You’re not doing it tonight,” Sentry says. “I won’t let you.”

“I defeated Batman tonight.”

“I am neither Batman nor do I work for him.” Sentry draws a throwing knife and throws it at the villain. I have to be careful; Scarecrow isn’t the strongest but he’s known to be fast and skilled with that sickle weapon.

Scarecrow steps to the side with another scoff but is caught off guard when Sentry lunges forward to swing his cane at Scarecrow’s head. He blocks with the sickle. Sentry twists his hips and kicks Crane’s knee. Crane stumbles. Sentry pulls his arm back and quickly uses it to hit the other man in the chest with the end of his cane, sending Scarecrow stumbling further back. Scarecrow twists and lunges away from Sentry, who pauses instead of trying to follow.

Crane, breathing harder than before, seems to stare at Sentry (it’s hard to tell past the burlap). He then turns and lunges like he’s going to run away.

Sentry jumps forward to stop him. Scarecrow turns at the last moment and elbows Sentry in the diaphragm.

“Umph” escapes Sentry as he catches himself, having to plant his cane back on the ground so his bad leg doesn’t collapse.

Scarecrow swings the sickle around to hit him. Sentry blocks with his left arm, the metal arm guard catches most of the cutting motion but the rogue is stronger than his thin frame suggests and the sickle ends up sliding down and manages to cut against Sentry’s trenchcoat close to his elbow. Sentry ignores the sting and brings his cane back up to crack against Scarecrow’s unprotected ribs. Scarecrow grunts and disengages to put distance between them. Sentry allows it as he uses the moment to fully steady himself.

“Well, now, you’re not doing too bad for a newbie,” Crane chuckles. “I wonder how you’ll react to my fear toxin.” The man reaches into his coat and draws an injector device. 

Great. Okay. Stay focused. I am winning this.

Sentry grabs his cane in his left hand and draws the sword from it with his right.

“Well then,” Scarecrow says after watching Sentry draw a sword. “I think you might be so interesting to watch. Will you writhe when terrified? Fight the unseen shadows of your mind? Will you cry?”

Sentry lunges forward before Scarecrow finishes the last question but the villain catches the sword in the curve of his sickle. Sentry attempts to swing the sheath portion of his cane into Scarecrow’s face but is caught off guard when Scarecrow twists to kick Sentry’s left knee. Sentry gasps as his left leg gives out and he falls to that knee. He drops the sheath to catch himself so he doesn’t fully fall but is stuck kneeling on one knee. He stops the downward strike of the sharp sickle with his sword and attempts to grab Scarecrow’s off hand.

Sentry is surprised when, with a twist of Scarecrow’s curved weapon, the villain manages to disarm him of his cane sword. Sentry’s sword hits the ground a few yards away. Sentry grunts when he feels the needle pierce his neck and is too slow to stop Scarecrow from pressing the plunger. The cold rush he feels right after is disconcerting at best.

Scarecrow pauses as he straightens. “Now we just wait for—”

Sentry grabs the other man’s ankle and pulls it as he elbow strikes his knee. Once Scarecrow falls to the ground with a surprised grunt, Sentry draws a dagger and slices the forearm of the hand holding the sickle, causing him to drop the weapon. Scarecrow cries out in pain as blood starts to drip from the arm. Sentry then stabs scarecrow in the shoulder as he wrestles to get on top of the villain. He lets go of the dagger handle as Scarecrow screams. Sentry punches him once. Twice. And a third and final time when Scarecrow falls limp and still.

“Fuck,” Sentry mutters as his vision starts to swim with shadows and pain pulses in his bad leg. “Ugh.” He quickly gets the antidote vial out and injects it into his thigh. “Courtier?”

“Sentry,” she responds immediately. “What do you need?”

“Can you find me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve administered the antidote. But I’m shaking and injured. I might need help. Scarecrow is unconscious and I’ll bind his hands.” Sentry’s voice is barely above a whisper and sounds shaky to his ears. 

He can hear Courtier moving and focuses on that as he pulls out zip ties to tie Scarecrow's hands and ankles. Tim does his best to ignore the shadows that move like Batman stalks across rooftops.

Sentry pushes himself away from the rogue slightly and sits down and focuses on his breathing. His heart is pounding, sweat rolling down his back and at his temples. He can’t tell if the rushing in his ears is his blood rushing or a symptom of a hallucination. 

“I’m here,” Courtier says. “I’m going to approach.”

“Okay.”

She walks calmly to him and kneels down beside him. “I’m here, what do you need?”

Tim shakes his head. “I don’t. I’m…ugh.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Yes.”

She takes his hand slowly and holds it gently in both of hers as she keeps her breathing steady. Sentry sits and breathes with her as his heartbeat starts to slow and his vision begins to clear. After his vision clears fully, he squeezes Courtier’s hand.

“I think the antidote is clearing it up.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Can you get my sword and resheathe it? I threw a knife earlier as well if you can find that as well. I need to talk to Oracle.”

She nods and stands to do that. 

Tim presses his comm. “Oracle, I have Scarecrow.”

“Are you okay?”

“...I’m slightly injured and dealing with some effects from fear toxin, but the antidote is clearing that up. I stabbed Scarecrow; I can leave my dagger in his shoulder or I can take it out and give a quick field dressing. But I can’t stick around.”

“I have ems and police en route, take your dagger; they’ll be there soon. Do you need any help?”

Courtier brings his gear back over and waits at his side.

“Courtier is helping me. Please warn the officers that the building may be contaminated with fear gas. How’s everyone else?”

Sentry shuffles back over to Scarecrow to de-stab him and wrap the shoulder in a quick field dressing.

“Batwoman is almost done clearing the last couple groups. Huntress has kept out of my sight but has called in a few other small groups to the police and seems to be handling herself fine. Batman is unconscious and has a few rounds of the antidote. Nightwing has a broken nose and bruises but is fine.”

“That’s good.”

Courtier helps Sentry stand and steadies him when he wobbles.

“Thank you for your help, Sentry,” Oracle says quietly. “I’m sorry you got injured.”

“Don’t be,” he grunts. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“Still. Get home safe. Contact me if you need help if you have a bad reaction with the toxin or antidote.”

Sentry hums affirmatively. “Sentry out.” He deactivates the comm.

Courtier pulls his left arm over her shoulders and helps him limp painfully out to Llamrei.

“What happened? I was listening but I didn’t want to distract you so I kept quiet.” She starts driving away.

“He is good with a sickle,” he says. “I knew he wasn’t a bad fighter but damn, he’s pretty fast. He kicked my bad leg and once I was kneeling, he managed to inject me with the toxin. Then when he was about to start crowing over his ‘victory’, I took him to the ground, stabbed him and punched him till he was out.”

She chuckles slightly. “Badass.”

Sentry sighs and leans his head against the window. “I’ll always be at a disadvantage. I have an exploitable weakness.”

“Yes. But you still won. And that means something Tim. Everyone has weaknesses. Batman got taken out of the fight tonight while you captured the bad guy. Take the win.”

Tim smiles slightly. “Yeah.”

Once they’re back at Drake Manor, they change out of their suits, clean up, and sit down to look over Tim’s injuries. He has a shallow slice to the arm right above his elbow that gets cleaned and covered. Tim takes some pain meds and Tam gets him ice for his knee and ankle.

They thankfully have the next few days off from DI already so they don’t have to worry about trying to go into the office or anything tomorrow.

Tam sits down. “How's the fear toxin feeling?”

“I still feel shaky and kind of wired, like something is wrong but don’t know what. But I’m not hallucinating and my heartbeat is at an okay rate.”

“Good. I’ll spend the night here.”

“Tam, you don’t have to do that,” Tim protests as he turns to look at her where she sits beside him on the couch.

She gives him a tired smile. “I know. But I’m your friend and I’m not leaving you alone after being exposed to fear gas.”

“Do you want to use one of the upstairs guest rooms?”

“No way. I’m staying with you the whole night. I need to keep an eye on you.”

He doesn’t even try to argue when she raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Alright. Let’s just relax for a bit.”

They watch some of the new star trek movies until Tim stops feeling shaky and his pain meds kick in some. When they are both exhausted but calm, Tam helps Tim hobble to his bed and props his bad leg up on some supportive pillows and then falls onto the other side of his bed to sleep close to him. Tim doesn’t argue or fuss, just lets her do whatever she wants. He also doesn’t want to really be alone right now though he doesn’t say that out loud. He simply closes his eyes and falls into the darkness of sleep.

A sleep that is full of memories of falling from roofs after being thrown by Batman. Nightmares of Batman losing control and attacking his allies and Tim. Nightmares of falling and hitting the ground; hearing his bones snap. Dreams of wandering lonely, empty halls and shadows that move in the peripheral.

The next afternoon (Tim and Tam woke up a few times due to Tim’s nightmares, and didn’t fully ‘get up’ until just before noon), Tim and Tam check their emails and gear and work quietly together, finding comfort in each other’s company. It’s a bad pain day though and Tim uses his wheelchair to get around. He wraps his knee and ankle and ices it off and on for a couple hours. 

Mid afternoon, the doorbell rings, causing Tim and Tam to look at each other. Tam is the one to pull up the camera feed on a tablet though.

Tam’s eyebrows furrow as she stares down at the screen. “Uh…” She shakes her head and looks up at Tim. “Take a look at this.” 

Tim takes the tablet and looks down. He nearly drops the thing when he sees Barbara Gordon waiting on his porch.

What the hell…

Chapter Text

Tim can admit he is freaking out a little.

Maybe a lot.

“Is that?”

“Barbara Gordon?” Tim says breathlessly. “Oracle? Yes.”

“Wanted to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating or something,” Tam mumbles. 

“She knows.”

“Tim, we don’t know that.”

“Why else could she possibly be here?” Tim rubs a hand down his face roughly. “Shit. I can’t just leave her to sit at the front door. She’s Batgirl .”

Tam watches as Tim shifts from armchair to wheelchair. “I guess it’s not surprising that you are also a fanboy of hers.”

Tim smiles (slightly nervous, somewhat adoring). “Batgirl was awesome. She just became something different but still awesome as Oracle.” Tim easily wheels himself to the front door of the manor with Tam following behind him.

Once he opens the door, Tim is met with the calm-looking Barbara Gordon. Barbara looks Tim over then glances at Tam before meeting Tim’s eyes.

“Hello, Mr. Drake, I was hoping we could talk,” Barbara says, her tone and body language neutral.

“Just Tim is fine.” Tim frowns. “Does Batman know who I am?” Please tell me I am not going to go to sleep one night only to wake up to Batman looming over me. That is so not what I need.

Barbara’s lips twitch into a small grin. “No, he doesn’t. I haven’t told anyone. Can we speak inside? And you can call me Barbara.”

“Of course,” Tim says as he maneuvers himself around to lead them back to the main room sitting area of Tim’s suite. “Tam do you mind getting drinks please?”

Tam nods and walks away, returning quickly with multiple water bottles that she hands out. Tam and Tim move a couple chairs away from his table so Barbara and Tim can stay in their wheelchairs and Tam sits in one of the chairs.

“How are you doing since last night?” Barbara asks. “Did the antidotes we gave you work?”

“Slightly rougher shape than usual but surviving,” Tim says. “And yes they did, thank you. How are Nightwing and Batman?”

“They are okay today; a little worn and bruised but okay.”

“That’s good.” Tim cracks open his bottle of water and takes a sip. “Let’s get to why you’re really here.”

Barbara raises one brow with an amused look for a moment. Then her face changes to a much more serious expression. “Do you know who we all are?” Barbara asks.

“Yes,” Tim answers without hesitation.

“Not surprising really,” Barbara says. “From everything I’ve found about you, you seem extremely intelligent.”

“How much have you found exactly?”

Barbara looks down at her lap. “I want you to know that I didn’t immediately try to figure your identity out when you first started as Sentry. After I found your firewalls, I figured you were smart and capable; and I didn’t want to make an enemy of someone who could possibly be an ally. Once you were established as being one of the good guys, I figured I'd made the right call. That we could be allies and that we could always discover things later, as they came up.”

“But?” Tim asks when she hesitates.

“But then you said Batman hurt an innocent civilian, and you were sure of it,” the redhead says quietly. “So sure, if fact, that it sounded personal. Worse, that it sounded like something that hurt. And you walk with a limp and need a cane; could be from a major injury. I knew a vague timeline of when you started working in Gotham and I guessed you were a native and possibly upper class; most likely young. I took what I knew and researched. Found a few matches but I had to dig deeper. When Timothy Drake flagged, I ignored it at first because everything was listed as an accident in your medical files. But other things just matched too well. Then I saw the system had been tampered with slightly, something had been changed a couple days after you were taken into Gotham General. At that point, I had a date to look up.” She looks up and steadily meets Tim’s eyes. “Batman’s cowl has a recording feature.”

For one brief moment, Tim doesn’t understand what she’s implying; then like a wave of ice cold water, it hits him. Tim flinches back, blood draining from his face. “...Th-there’s video … of it?”

Barbara lays a flash drive onto the table. “Yes.”

Tam gasps as she stares at the mundane looking object.

“What?” Tim says as he also stares at the drive.

Barbara slowly pulls her hand away and tucks it back into her lap with the other. “I stopped watching the majority of the cowl footage closely. Batman had been losing it and I couldn’t keep watching him lose himself slowly through his own eyes. And I had other things to do to try to keep things somewhat held together. Dick never watched it because he was already heartbroken from Jason’s death; seeing his dad fall apart wasn’t helping and he hadn’t been in Gotham for a while. Bruce wasn’t taking care of things and checking things; I don’t think he’s checked cowl footage since the last time he faced the clown. No one has seen this but myself. And I never saw it until I went looking for it. This is now the only copy that exists. I erased it from Batman’s servers and I have no copy.”

“Why give it to Tim?” Tam asks in a whisper.

“Because it is his,” Barbara says. She looks back to Tim. “I know that I cannot apologize for him, nor can I excuse his actions; but I’m sorry that I missed this. I don’t know what I could’ve done, but I would’ve tried to do anything if I had known. And for that, I am so sorry.”

Tim shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you. I’m not even really angry at Batman and he’s the one who threw me off the damn roof.” Tim sighs. “I knew he was lost and I thought I could, I don't know, help. Maybe it’s my fault.”

“Tim!” Tam hisses.

“It’s not,” Barbara says calmly. “You’re the innocent one in the equation; the only one really. Bruce is at fault because he was going out compromised. It was a little our fault because we weren’t stopping him or getting him help. We knew what he was doing and we just watched or ran away.” She looks down at the table with a frown.

Tim reaches out to touch the back of Barbara’s hand. “You all were (and still are) grieving the loss of a brother and son; I will not fault you for your grief.”

Barbara turns her hand and takes his in a gentle hold. “Thank you. I still think you are allowed to be angry at Bruce or afraid of him.”

Tim sighs, lets go of her hand, and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m not really angry. As for being afraid of him? I might be a little. I’m not looking forward to being in his presence that’s for sure. I don’t want to work closely with him or anything.”

“I can work with that.”

“Isn’t he wondering about me?”

Barbara rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it’s driving him a little up a wall not knowing who the mysterious Sentry is. But Dick and Alfred are, let’s say, managing him. Nightwing has been not letting him try to find you on patrol and Alfred actually has sedated him a couple times to force him to sleep.”

“Oh my god, really?” Tam laughs as Tim smiles a little in amusement.

Barbara gives Tim a gentle look. “I should probably thank you actually.” 

“Thank me? Why?” Tim asks.

“It was your email to Nightwing that kind of made us look, really look, at what was happening. Sure, you can give us the benefit of ‘we were grieving’ but honestly? We were running away from the problem when Batman was fighting everything but his grief. You made us see that in our running away and ignoring it, we were failing everyone. Dick came back, talked to Alfred and me, and we came up with a plan. Dick and I have been trying to curb the Batman overworking and Nightwing has been practically dogging Batman’s every move lately. Alfred has been enforcing sleep and meals. Dick also called some of the Justice League to ask for help. We’ve arranged a few, uh, playdates and therapy sessions.”

“Playdates?” Tam asks while trying to not laugh.

Barbara chuckles slightly. “We set him up to go visit teammates and friends for the day. Bruce has gone to a few therapy appointments but he refuses to go often. But, we are trying, and I think it’s starting to help, if slowly.”

Tim nods. “That’s good; I’m glad.”

“Thank you, Tim, for forcing us to pick ourselves back up.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m sorry I threatened you.”

“Water under a bridge. Friends?” Barbara asks as she raises a hand to offer a shake.

Tim smiles, excitement fluttering in his stomach at the thought of being friends with the former Batgirl . He takes her hand and shakes it. “Friends.”

Barbara and Tam also shake hands with a smile.

“Okay, I have to ask, for curiosity’s sake,” Barbara says. “Have you trained for years or did you train after injury?”

Tim shrugs. “Both. I’ve taken judo classes for years but I ended up hiring someone to train me after I was released from the hospital and physical therapy.”

“Oh? That’s interesting. Like a martial artist or soldier or something?”

“No, I hired Deathstroke,” Tim says without thinking.

Everything seems to take a moment of hesitation. Barbara is staring at him with wide blue eyes and a slightly open mouth. Tim cringes as he thinks he probably shouldn’t have said that to Oracle.

Barbara blinks a couple times. Suddenly she lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Okay. You know what? I’m not going to judge. Bruce trained with assassins and even Dick has worked with some sketchy people. So, good on you for being resourceful I guess.”

Tim and Tam both let out a sigh of relief. 

After that, the atmosphere relaxes a little and the three of them end up chatting about many things vigilante related. Barbara asks if they’d be willing to accept cases from her when they could use extra hands (Tim agrees of course). Tim tells Barbara a little about his photography hobby and agrees to send her some cool and funny shots when he finds them. Tam explains how she came to work with Tim (Barbara found that amusing). After about an hour, Barbara gets ready to leave, getting an agreement to meet up again sometime to chat, maybe go out for coffee sometime.

After Barbara leaves, Tam and Tim end up sitting on the couch together. Tim has his bad leg propped up and covered in ice. 

“Well, that was a little stressful,” Tim says.

“It worked out okay, though,” Tam points out. 

Tim nods.

“What are you going to do with the video?” Tam asks quietly after a few minutes have passed. She’s watching Tim fidget with the flashdrive in his hands.

“Keep it,” Tim answers. “I didn’t think there was proof of what happened but now that there is, I’m going to keep it, just in case.”

Tam nods. “Can I see it?”

Tim looks over at her and meets her dark eyes, seeing worry and determination in them. “Why do you want to watch it, Tam?”

She takes a deep breath before answering. “Because you are my friend and I want to know. Some of it’s morbid curiosity and I’d understand if you said no. But also, I want to know what happened, want to see it with my own eyes.”

“Okay. Let’s watch it.”

They watch the short minute video on a laptop. It starts with Batman in the middle of a beatdown. There is a quiet sound of someone approaching from the side. The video picks up what the figure says but it seems Batman didn’t pay attention until one word. When the word ‘Robin’ is called out, Batman turns with a lurch to grab the small figure by the throat and throws him with a great heave. The figure hits the roof top awkwardly and tumbles off. There’s a muted thud and a scream but Batman has already turned back to the criminal pinned on the roof. The tiny figure is only seen for a short couple moments, but Timothy Drake stares up from under the hood of his jacket. His blue eyes wide with terror and face pale and shocked. There’s no mistaking him especially if the person watching knew Tim or had a picture reference.

Tam ends the video playback and pulls Tim down to rest his head on her shoulder. Tim stays silent.

“You are so brave,” Tam whispers. “Reckless, but brave. I’d say don’t do that again, but I’m beginning to see that that is just who you are. You are going to protect people that need protecting; even at the cost of yourself. So I’ll just have to protect you so you can protect everyone else.”

Tim smiles, a little sad, a lot fond. “Well, I’m glad I have you in my corner then.”

Tam squeezes him in a side hug. “Might need some back up though, you’re a little unhinged, I could use some others to help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

After a few days of rest, Tim goes out as Sentry again to check on people in Maureen’s shelter and other places. Thankfully, all the vigilantes that were out on Halloween managed to stay ahead of Scarecrow’s plans and everyone was safe from harm. Sentry and Courtier check around the areas that have become ‘Sentry’s patrol’ routes. Nightwing, with some bruises, came to check on them and ask if the antidote had worked on Sentry. Nightwing looked slightly worried for Sentry being injured but accepted that Sentry is as well as he can be (sporting healing bruises but okay now) and left them to their business.

A week after Halloween, Huntress suddenly settles down beside Sentry on a roof where he’s taking surveillance pictures of gang activity spreading from East Side into Coventry and Burnley.

“Good evening, Huntress,” Sentry greets calmly as he finishes taking the last few pictures as the dealers load up a truck and drive off. “Can I help you with something?”

Huntress rests one arm on her propped up knee as she turns from watching Sentry’s subjects to Sentry. “Heard you fought Scarecrow. And won.”

Sentry nods as he packs his camera into a side-sling bag with protected compartments for cameras and equipment. “Yes. He’s back in Arkham now.”

She hums. “You were injured? Gassed?”

Sentry nods.

“You okay?”

“Yes, I had an antidote and am better now. Thank you for your concern.”

She frowns and looks away. “I didn’t say I was worried about you,” she mutters.

Tim smiles under the mask. “No, I guess you didn’t say that. Are you okay? You weren’t gassed were you?”

“Nah,” she says as she waves a hand to wave his concerns away. She doesn’t move to get up, just stays seated where she is.

“I’m glad,” Sentry says. He shifts so he’s sitting beside her instead of kneeling. 

“I don’t need you to help me or anything, okay,” Huntress starts. “But I was thinking about what you said the other day and, well. I’m going after a gang that used to be led by my family.”

Sentry stays silent. He won’t offer to help after she said she doesn’t need it, understanding that she is a very independent person. He also thinks she will tell him what she’s after if given some patience.

She sighs. “I didn’t know, when I was a kid, how evil my family was. They loved me and I loved them; what else could a child understand. But once I grew up and saw what they really used to do; I realized that they were villains, putting people in danger, murdering innocents. I was glad to be free of that legacy I guess. Now I want to clean up the mess left behind. I know it’s been years, but I want to try.”

“Try what exactly?” Sentry asks.

“To be a hero,” Huntress says as she looks over to him. “You said you think I could be one. And I want to be good.”

Sentry reaches up to lift his goggles to the top of his head so he can meet her eyes with his. “I think that is what matters most. You want to be good; that’s the most important part. Cosa Nostra is the crime family the Bertinellis used to rule, correct? What’s your plan?”

Huntress’s eyes widen slightly (her mask does not have the white out lenses that the bats’ masks do). “You really know everything, don’t you?”

Sentry lets out a startled laugh. “No. Not everything. But I spent many years running around unseen by everyone; now I’m actually getting involved. I just have a good amount of background information.”

She scoffs but while smiling. “You’re really a unique individual, aren’t you?”

Sentry hums thoughtfully. “Heroes and vigilantes are all a little crazy, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” Huntress smirks and rolls her eyes. “But yes, Cosa Nostra. I want to hit their drug trade hard and you’re taking pictures of some of their runners.”

“So I am.”

“Do you know anything else important?”

“I know who’s bringing the drugs into the city,” Sentry answers. “Elliot Harken. He always oversees the ship deliveries at the docks. He’s high up but not so much that he’s a true leader; he seems to have risen in the ranks in a short time. History points to him enjoying beating those who piss him off, but also he tends to carry a gun and grenades, both of which he’s used on rivals.”

She tenses at the name mentioned. “Is he a blond with a scar across his nose?” 

“Yes,” Sentry says with a nod. “What do you know?”

“Pretty sure he murdered his girlfriend last year,” Huntress growls. “I tried to kill him, but he disappeared for a couple months and I lost track of him. Tanya was one of my insiders and I only knew him as Elliot from her. She’d show up with bruises a lot; but she never let me help her get away. I don’t have proof but my instincts say he killed her and dumped her body. He wasn’t in charge then, but now he is. Now, I’m going to stop him.”

Sentry nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. But don’t get in my way,” Huntress says, her tone softer. “You seem like one of the actually good ones; I don’t want to fight you.”

“Very well,” Sentry says calmly. “I’m gathering evidence for some of his underlings to get them put away. But I’ll leave Harken to you.”

“Just like that?” Huntress asks, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Just like that.”

“Huh.”

“Why are you so surprised?” Sentry asks.

“Not sure. Guess I kind of assumed you’d be a little more on the ‘murder is wrong’ spectrum when presented with premeditation.”

Sentry pauses a moment to think of his response. “Murder is wrong. But sometimes, killing is justified. Harken is dangerous and is only going to become more dangerous as he gets higher in the gang ranks and given more and more power. He’s a murderer. You have a reason to take him out, he’s an evil guy and in a powerful enough position that he might be able to get out of punishment. I won’t stand in your way. I will have a problem if you start killing indiscriminately or hunting people for sport. Heroes are supposed to mean something. Sometimes our personal feelings will have to be tabled if there is a better answer than what we want.”

“But you will stop me if you think I’m going too far?”

“Yes,” Sentry says lowly. 

Huntress smiles at him.

Sentry hesitates. “Are you … happy about that?”

“You’re very honest and up front,” Huntress says, still slightly smiling. “Yeah, I’m kind of happy that you’d get in my way if I was going too far. I have some serious rage at all of this; I don’t mind if someone is willing to call me on it if I’m wrong. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sentry says, his tone slightly questioning. “Would you like my card? So you can call me if you need help with something? Or if you have information you’re willing to share?”

“Sure, and give me a piece of paper and pen; I’ll give you my number too.”

After exchanging numbers, the two separate for the night.

Sentry meets back up with Courtier and they return to Drake manor. Tim explains what happened to Tam as they work together to put some dossiers together to drop off to the police (they now have a few names in different departments that one Gordon or the other spoke for that Sentry can contact with relevant information) about some of the drug runners and others involved. Tam expresses her concern for Huntress while being amused by Tim’s reaction to being thanked by her.

***

A few days later, Sentry and Courtier are in Llamrei driving around a quick patrol when Sentry’s phone lit up with a call from a number he had recently added. It shows a new text from Huntress .

Huntress

SOS 

[coordinate ping]

“Courtier, Huntress is in trouble,” Sentry says sharply as he enters the coordinates into Llamrei’s GPS system.

Courtier brakes to turn sharply in the direction of docks near Coventry where the coordinates are directing them to. She immediately speeds up drastically.

Sentry activates the small computer in the car to do a quick scan to see if he can find some data on what might have happened to cause Huntress to let out a distress call. Tim breathes in sharply as he starts seeing some of the 911 calls and online posts from civilians. “There’s been some kind of explosion. A boat blew up; the remains of which are still on fire that first responders are responding to.”

“Huntress involved?” Courtier asks.

Sentry hums. “With her coordinates, it looks like she may have been caught in it and got away and called for help, no mention of any vigilante on the calls or radio. It looks like she’s away from most of it in a side street. We should be able to pull up very close to her. It might be minor.”

“Do you think it’s just something really bad?” 

“Possibly,” Sentry admits. “She wouldn’t have sent an alert if she could’ve gotten away. But we’re going to get her out.”

Courtier stops the car and they both jump out.

“Grab the med kit,” Sentry instructs, “and follow me.”

Sentry runs as fast as he’s capable with his bad leg to where Huntress’s coordinates ping on his phone. Courtier, who’s carrying the large med kit from the car, follows quickly. They find Huntress in a narrow alley, about 40 feet from the car, hidden by a dumpster and AC units.

“Damnit,” Sentry grunts as he collapses to his knees beside Huntress’s fallen form.

Courtier kneels and drops the bag between the two of them. 

Sentry reaches out to check her pulse. “Strong but elevated. It looks like she’s been caught by an explosion blast. She has a bleeding wound on her head and some serious bruising.” 

Huntress’s suit is burned away at spots, revealing red burned skin (thankfully it looks like her suit protected her from most of it and the burns are first degree and singing). But her mask has been half torn off, revealing most of her face. Her face is bruised deeply around her right temple, cheek, and jaw. Sentry runs his hands along her ribs and limbs to look for other injuries as Courtier presses gauze to the open wound across her temple where the bruising is.

“Pretty sure she doesn’t have broken bones, but can’t be sure about cracked ribs or sprains until we have better lighting. It looks like she was thrown by the explosion into something. Do you know how to check for concussions?”

“Yes,” Courtier says as she finishes up wrapping a temporary bandage around Huntress’s head. She pulls out a pen light to check her eyes.

Sentry glances around until he finds Huntress’s phone and hand crossbow and gathers them into the medical bag so they don’t lose track of them.

“She has a concussion, but it doesn’t look too bad,” Courtier says. “What now?”

“We get her to the car,” Sentry says. “Help me get her on my back.”

Courtier does as he asks, even though she glances concernedly at his left leg. Once Sentry is standing with Huntress in a piggy back hold on his back, Courtier gathers their supplies and Sentry’s cane. She wraps an arm around Huntress’s back so she is somewhat helping to steady Sentry’s gait and take a little weight from him. It’s not the most comfortable (it’s actually quite painful; Tim has to grit his teeth the whole limping way back to the car), but it’s over quickly and after a couple minutes, they have Huntress in the backseat and Courtier is driving away.

“Sentry, where are we going?”

“Drake manor.”

Courtier glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Sentry?”

He sighs. “Can’t take her to a hospital. The clinic in Crime Alley is run by Leslie Thompson; she is allied pretty closely to Batman. Unless we cannot treat Huntress ourselves, I do not want to expose her to potentially police or Batman. Her mask is pretty much nonexistent now and we wouldn’t be able to protect her. We will if we have to but I think we’ll be okay to treat her ourselves.”

“We’d be revealing ourselves,” Courtier says quietly.

“Yes. Are you okay with that?”

“Are you?”

“I think we can trust her,” Sentry responds calmly. She wants to be good. I think she wants someone to trust her to be. I can be an ally and friend to her. 

“I trust you,” Courtier says. She turns to take the roads to Bristol.

After returning to the manor, they carry Huntress inside to Tim’s suite and lay her on his bed (the only bed accessible on the first floor). Both take off their masks and coats to be able to move easily around each other. Undressing Huntress from her suit, they check/treat wounds found. Bruised ribs but no internal damage by the looks of it. Helena’s right wrist is bruised and slightly swollen (sprained but not seriously, it looks like she attempted to catch herself when she was thrown). They wrap her ribs to be on the safe side. Tim and Tam clean Helena’s face and use butterfly closures on the head wound that, while bloody, is not very deep or long. Then Tam tapes a clean gauze bandage over it to keep it clean. Tim cleans any scuffs or scratches while he rechecks the burns and singing while Tam looks for clothes that would fit the taller woman. Tam brings a shirt and lounge pants from Tim’s parents’ rooms from upstairs and redresses Helena.

“She’ll be okay?” Tam asks.

“Yes,” Tim says. “I agree the concussion isn’t too bad. The burns are first degree along her left arm and shoulder, the rest is minor. Some deep bruising but nothing broken.”

Tam nods. “Good thing we both started studying first aid and stuff,” she says with a slight smile.

“Yes. I’m going to change into loungewear and work on my computer while waiting for her to wake. Are you staying?”

“Definitely. You change and sit down right after. I’ll get us some drinks and your meds since you might have a pain flare up.”

Tim nods, already feeling the flare. 

Two hours later, Tim has found that Elliot Harken is dead and police reports have the story as there was a fight on the docks, Harken set the explosion off but was too close and was caught in it. He had wounds from being in a melee fight and a crossbow bolt in his leg but what killed him was ultimately the explosion. A few of the goons reported Harken fighting a vigilante woman wielding a crossbow and he had been pushed into the metaphorical corner and set the explosion to try to save himself and stop the vigilante but something went wrong.

Helena wakes up and sits up with a groan and looks around in confusion as she tenses. Tim turns his head to look at her from where he sits with his leg propped up at his computer desk. Tam is cleaning and organizing their gear out in the other room at the moment.

“How are you feeling?” Tim asks.

Helena tenses and looks around the room before stopping when she sees Tim. She stares at him for a long moment. “Sentry?” 

Tim smiles. “Yes. You can call me Tim though. I apologize. I brought you back to my house to treat your wounds. I was worried your identity would be compromised either to the police or Batman if I had taken you to a hospital or the clinic in Crime Alley.”

She opens her mouth, hesitates, closes her mouth and stares wide-eyed at Tim.

Tim also hesitates at her hesitation.

“Oh my god, you’re a child,” Helena whispers.

“What? I am not!”

“You are,” Helena says. “Look at those cheeks, baby soft. Oh my god. You’re Timothy Drake. What the hell.”

Tam walks in holding a mug. “You don’t need more coffee, Tim; I made you tea.” She pauses when she sees Helena sitting up. “Oh good, you’re awake, how are you feeling?”

“Sore. Shocked.” 

Tam glances at Tim briefly before looking back at Helena. “Shocked?”

Helena points at Tim. “He’s a child?”

“I am not,” Tim huffs and crosses his arms.

Tam smirks. “Tim is sixteen, yes. But he’s very smart and kind of feral so…”

“Wait a minute! You said you were running around unseen for years. What have you been doing,” Helena says.

Tim lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Oh. I used to go out to take pictures of Batman and Robin because they were my heroes and I didn’t have adult supervision.”

Helena takes a deep breath. “You’re telling me that as a child, you’d just go out and take pictures of Gotham’s heroes, and no one ever caught you?”

Tim nods.

“Do you have self-preservation instincts?” Helena hisses.

“I do!” Tim says while pouting.

“Eh, that’s up for debate.” Tam looks so amused with a wide smile, bright eyes. “I’m Tam Fox, by the way; Tim’s personal assistant and secretary, Courtier to Sentry. It’s nice to meet you. Do you want some tea or water?”

“Water is fine, thanks.”

Nodding, Tam hands Tim the tea and walks out to get a bottle of water for Helena.

Tim and Helena stare at each while they wait for Tam to get back.

“What happened with Harken?” Tim asks once Helena has a bottle of water.

Tam leans against Tim’s desk to listen to the conversation.

“That stupid coward tried to blow me up but it just threw me from the boat onto the dock. He was closer to it.” Helena furrows her brows and glares down at her hands in her lap where she holds the bottle of water. “He told me he killed Tanya and then he ran onto the ship. His goons were running away and Harken said he’d kill me too. So I broke his nose and arm. I was getting ready to kill him when he pulled out a fucking grenade. I ran for the side of the ship. I shot him in the leg when he was handling it. He dropped it, it went off. I was thrown and hit my head. The boat just sort of caught fire immediately. I got away thanks to adrenaline and sent you an SOS before I dropped.” Her eyes are narrow as she huffs the last line. A frown pulls at the corner of her lips.

“Okay. We’re glad you’re okay,” Tim says. Tam nods in agreement.

“I messed up,” Helena says, her tone somewhere between angry and disappointed. “I underestimated him because I thought he was just a dumb goon… Did any civilians get hurt?”

“No civilian casualties. The only death was Harken; and a lot of his underlings were arrested tonight. The boat fire was serious but was put out quickly.”

“It was my fault. I underestimated him. I got caught up in my anger.”

Tim smiles gently. “Yeah, you probably could’ve done better. But you survived and called when you needed help. This might not be the win you wanted, but it’s not a complete failure. You won’t make the same mistake again. Making a mistake doesn’t have to define you.”

Helena watches him for a moment before smiling a little. “I can’t believe a toddler is giving me the ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you better’ talk.”

Tam laughs hard, leaning her head back.

Tim’s smile drops as his cheeks pink slightly. “I am not—ugh!” He crosses his arms. “I’m not a child.”

“You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” Helena says. “And. Thank you. For coming when I called.”

Tim nods. “Of course.” He pouts. “How old did you think I was?”

“Honestly? Like at least 20. On Halloween, I thought you were in your thirties but the other night when I saw your eyes, I thought you were younger but at least in your twenties.”

Tim huffs, then purses his lips in a pout. Tam is smirking.

Helena chuckles. “Aw, you’re so cute.”

“I am not,” he mutters. “I am a fierce independent vigilante.”

Helena and Tam both nod placatingly. Helena then focuses on Tam.

“So how’d you get involved in all this?” Helena asks.

“Oh, I saw him in Gotham and decided that I was going to help him. Showed up on his doorstep after I figured out who Sentry was and pretty much invited myself into his life and business.”

Helena grins. “I can see that.” She looks back to Tim. “Why’d you become Sentry?”

Tim leans back in his chair. “It’s complicated. Robin, who was my hero, died and Batman was falling apart. I didn’t want Robin’s legacy to be Batman becoming just as bad as the rogues. It would’ve been too sad to know that Robin’s last posthumous act was to destroy his father and possibly lead to the city’s downfall, the city he loved and protected. I tried to approach, got hurt, decided to do things a little differently, trained with a mercenary and then came back to establish myself as Sentry.”

“What? A mercenary?” Helena sits up straighter, her brown eyes narrow significantly. “What do you mean, you approached and got hurt?” She scans him and her gaze pauses for a long moment on his propped up left leg. “Tim, how’d you get hurt?”

Ice settles in Tim’s stomach. “Uh…I just. It’s not. Um.” Tim looks away, also down at his leg. 

“Did Batman do that to you?” Helena asks quietly. 

Tim sighs and reaches up to rub his forehead. “He doesn’t know. I don’t blame him. Not really.”

“He doesn’t know? How?”

“From the evidence, I believe he wasn’t mentally aware when the incident happened. My mother and I made sure there was no evidence afterwards, on my wishes for how to handle the situation. I decided after that I needed to do something to stop what was happening and to help protect Gotham. I became Sentry.”

“Evidence?” Helena’s voice sounds level, but when Tim meets her eyes, he sees the anger and horror.

“Uh…that’s not really important.”

“What evidence?”

Tim sighs. “There’s a video.”

“A video.” Her lips twist into an ugly sneer. “There’s a video and Batman doesn’t know that he permanently crippled a child.” 

“Okay, when you say it like that it sounds bad…”

“‘Sounds bad’? Tim it doesn’t sound bad; it is bad. Please tell me you understand that,” Helena says, her voice softening near the end. 

“I know it’s bad,” Tim huffs. “But I don’t want anything done to Batman. I’m the one that was injured; I’m the one that has to deal with the physical and mental consequences of it. But I know what I want. I want Batman to be better, to be a hero, again. Gotham needs him. I need him. I chose to hide the evidence; I chose to let it go. Please respect that decision.”

Helena watches him for an entire minute (and it feels like it goes on for forever to Tim) before she sighs, expression relaxing. “Fine. But I’m sticking around with you now.”

Tim tilts his head to the side at her. “Huh?”

She nods decisively. “Yep. I’m joining your team.”

“What?”

Helena raises a brow. “Your team. I am part of your team.”

“I don’t…have a team,” Tim tries to argue.

Helena looks at Tam, who snorts.

Tim opens and closes his mouth a couple times as he looks at the two women who look exasperated with him . Tim huffs in offense.

“Well,” Tam says with a grin, “I did say I could use back up.”

Helena grins as well. “Perfect.”

Tim leans his cheek against his hand. “Why do you want to join a team? I thought you would want to stay independent.”

Helena seems to pause as she stares into the middle distance for a little while. Then she shrugs and gives them an awkward looking smile. “I’ve been lonely. I want to do good. You think I can be a hero; I kinda want to prove you right. You and Tam seem to be pretty effective but neither of you are heavy hitters or main melee fighters. But you also seem a little leery of working with the Bats too closely. So, better to join you guys and give you more assets to work with. I could help you be a more effective force for good.”

Tim looks away in thought.

“I mean,” Helena says, her voice taking on a vulnerable edge, “if you don’t want me, you don’t have to accept me into your fold.”

Tam nudges Tim’s foot with her own. When Tim looks at her, she smiles and nods in encouragement. Tim looks back at Helena, who’s once again looking down at her lap.

“I’d love for you to join us,” Tim says honestly. “You’re right; having someone who’s more effective in melee would be smart, making us better. Welcome to the team I guess.”

Helena smiles at them. “Great. So, you work out of your family’s home?”

“For now,” Tim answers.

“Tim has a base in progress over in Coventry,” Tam explains. 

“Cool. When will that be ready?”

“Less than a month,” Tim says. “Though, I’ll have to email them about some minor changes. Would you like to operate out of it once it’s ready? I was able to find your apartment, I’m sure others would be able to if given enough incentive.”

“Did you stalk me?”

“I, well,” Tim stutters. “Maybe.”

She laughs. “Okay. Yeah, it’d probably be smart to operate out of the same space.”

Tim nods as he pulls up his email to let the company know about the minor changes (changing some room configurations and adding different furniture that will be brought in). “I’ll also get you a comm unit so we don’t have to worry about calling or texting if we need. I’ll also tell Oracle that you’re an official member of my team so she knows.”

“He just gets right to it, huh?” Helena asks Tam.

“Yeah, he’s efficient like that. Once something is settled, he’ll just react and prepare accordingly,” Tam says, fondness evident in her tone.

Helena and Tam end up staying the night in a couple upstairs guest rooms. Tim sends out emails (to the building company as well as Oracle). Tim also gets some sleep, deep and dreamless as far as he can remember. The next day, Helena is sent off with a comm and plans to meet up again in a few days after her injuries have time to heal.

Tim and Barbara end up going out to coffee a couple days later. She asks a few questions about Huntress, but nothing super invasive (though Tim thinks that’s because there’s a good chance she already knows who Huntress is). They have a nice time together as they discuss some night job business as well as more normal stuff. 

After a few weeks of Huntress being seen with Sentry out in Gotham, the Commissioner and Gotham residents pick up that she is now working with Sentry. They also spend that time going hard after Cosa Nostra. With Huntress’s abilities in addition to Sentry’s sharp intellect and Tam’s support, they are able to gather a lot of evidence for all the low-mid level goons as well as a harsh beat down/capture of a few of the leaders. A lot of Cosa Nostra’s contraband is seized, their transports decommissioned, their accounts hacked and turned against them. They end up with their business in tatters with a few leaders trying to run. Oracle congratulates them on a job well done after watching them work together (and hearing about it when Tim and Barbara get together for their meetups, or platonic coffee dates that Helena calls it). Nightwing got caught up in some of the captures after they ran into him on his patrols (he was helpful without being pushy, and is friendly with meeting Huntress).

One day when Tim was coming back from one of his platonic coffee dates, he sees Helena and Tam sitting together in his house with the video paused on a laptop. He doesn’t say anything. Tam grimaces but doesn’t apologize (Tim understands, Helena made it clear she wanted to see it). Helena hugged Tim tightly and whispered “He won’t do shit like that again.” in his ear. He just nodded against her shoulder. 

The end of November, Tim gets an email that the base is done. He does a walkthrough, as Alvin, check of the place with the company’s foreman. Tim immediately can see that it is extremely well done and pays the company an extra percentage as a tip and a thank you for getting it done so quickly. The company workers clear out surreptitiously. Tim and Tam order the last of the equipment that they’ll bring in personally. Tim also gets to work on all the security measures (which he left all of which up to his personal overview instead of letting the company handle it). The base isn’t quite ready to operate out of yet, so the three of them still meet up at Drake manor when they need to discuss cases and such. They are still working on finding the last Cosa Nostra operatives after all.

One night, as Tim is spending some time setting up his computers, defense systems, and other finishing touches, he gets an alert on the comm from Huntress. Tam, who was packing up some stuff to be moved to the base, presses the button to answer on Tim’s computer that is still in his bedroom as Tim moves closer.

“Huntress, do you need back up?” Tim asks.

“It’s not an emergency,” Huntress starts. “But I found someone that might need our help. She’s not with me currently but I got her to agree to meet us two nights from now in the Bowery.”

Tim and Tam look at each other with similar looks of confusion.

“Who was it, Huntress?” Tam asks.

“Was it a civilian in trouble?” Tim asks.

“No. New vigilante. She goes by Spoiler,” Huntress says. 

Chapter Text

“We should meet up so we can talk about it,” Huntress says. 

Tim can hear a smirk in her voice. He is very curious about what Huntress saw. “Do you remember the address I gave you?”

“Yes, Sentry,” Huntress answers.

“Meet Courtier and I there in an hour,” Tim instructs. “We have the rest of the stuff I need to get in there so let’s just meet and talk there.”

“Oh, the secret base is ready?” Huntress asks. She hasn’t been there yet, though Tim and Tam have to set up systems and equipment.”

“Yes,” Courtier answers on the comm. “Sentry has the last of his system ready to be set up and then our base of operations is good to go.”

“Exciting,” Huntress says. “Oh, there’s a mugger; I’m going to beat him up. See you soon, Huntress out.”

Tam helps Tim carry the last couple computers (towers, a couple more monitors, laptops) out along with their costume cases. The last things to get packed into the trunk are a couple boxes of files (some from cases that are back ups to what’s been saved on computers, and more empty ones that can be filled with new cases as they come). Most of the equipment is already set up and the security systems are active. Tim just has to connect the last couple computer towers and monitors and activate all of Sentry’s running systems there. Then they’ll be fully operating out of the base instead of Drake Manor. 

Tam drives them in Llamrei from Drake Manor to an inconspicuous looking, a bit on the small side, warehouse. It’s tucked out of the way, close to a few other warehouses that are not in use but have or will be soon bought by either Alvin Draper or Drake Industries. The area is a couple blocks of empty or barely used warehouses and one factory that is owned by DI (and has been for years, it’s not currently in use but may be in the future as Drake Industries starts growing again). There are no residences. The homeless don’t stay in the area too much but might crop up here or there. Sentry has systems in place for checking for surrounding signatures so that they’ll know if it’s not safe to arrive. Surrounding this warehouse are bollards (round posts about 3 ½ feet tall) to stop vehicles from approaching. As they approach in Llamrei, Tim presses a button on the dash that lowers a set of the bollards as they pull around the building’s side. A car-wide door (blast proof and hard to see that it’s any kind of entrance from outside the building) is raised once Llamrei is in close range to it and they smoothly drive into the building. The door is lowered once more. Tam parks in the open floor of the ‘garage’ portion of the warehouse. There’s more room for other vehicles (maybe a motorcycle or so, Tim’s unsure of what they might end up getting, but he’s left available space. 

Tam and Tim get out of the car and start unpacking the last of the equipment and taking it over to the door that leads to the elevator/stairwell room. The garage portion of the base contains parking, tire storage locker, storage for equipment (the car repair kind), an ‘L’-shaped work table with two padded stools, a car lift (to make car maintenance easier), and some more open floor space in case they need more storage or to remodel if they need in the future. There is another entrance (hidden from the outside) on the ‘front’ wall that is for the vigilantes to enter on foot (it’s biometric and passcode locked). The car entrance also has a passcode lock on the inside and a defense system computer to monitor while Tim is working on this level.

Close to the car parking area is a door that leads to a semi-large walled off area for decontamination showers and a bathroom. In that room is also storage for decontamination supplies in case they need to clean vehicles and costumes from gas, pollen, poison, ect. It’s close to the cars in the event that they have gotten hit by one of the biohazards of certain rogues (and the fact that Tim thought it would be a good idea to not track any of that down to the lower levels with other important equipment and living quarters. 

Beside the decontamination shower room is a utility room. The next door is a biometric lock to the elevator/stairwell room. The stairwell is revealed when the control panel activates the hatch that lifts up so the stairs can be used. The elevator is passcode protected and will be the main way of travelling between floors. Then finally there is a locked room at the far side of the building that contains the building's self defense systems’ supplies and repair tools. The warehouse itself is very reinforced from top to bottom with concrete and steel (the walls are very thick and there are windows that have been reinforced and covered). The warehouse has monitoring systems (hidden cameras, infrared and night vision as well as regular; the cameras are protected against tampering and EMP) all around the outside of the building. The defense systems on the outside are mostly non-lethal turrets that include: rubber bullet turrets, stun grenade launchers, pepper spray canister launchers. There is only one turret that contains a potentially lethal force grenade launcher; it’s in the front and is to be used if the base is under siege from a vehicle of some kind. Does Tim think he’ll ever really need it? Probably not. Is he paranoid enough to install that? Yes, yes he is.

Once Huntress arrives, Tim lets her in and immediately starts keying her biometrics into the systems. As he does that she is studying the ground floor area. After she’s keyed in and she takes her mask off, Tim and Tam give her a tour of the floor before they go to the elevator to go to level B1.

Helena smiles as she helps carry some of the equipment into the elevator. “So, you’ve been kind of secretive about this place, Tim. What are you calling it?”

Tim presses the button for B1 before returning her grin. “Welcome to the Citadel.”

Helena chuckles. “Yeah that fits. Going to give me a quick tour before we sit down to talk?”

Tim nods. “G is ground floor. B1 is the vigilante floor. B2 is living quarters.”

Helena raises an eyebrow. “Living quarters?”

Tim shrugs. “I was originally planning on this just being for Sentry so I added a full kitchen, living area, and bedroom. Once Tam joined me, I changed things around a bit. There’s a kitchen, living room, guest bunk room and bathroom and then my personal rooms since I had originally planned to at least stay here part of the time.”

“Now we can also set up a closet with our stuff in case we need to stay as well,” Tam adds.

Tim gives a quick show of B1. The Elevator opens to a short hall that has a door to the locked stairwell beside the elevator. Then the next door on the left leads to a shower room for post patrol showers (the garage showers are purely decontam rooms meant for biohazard clean up, these are better for getting cleaned up from normal patrols and workouts). The door on the right leads to a fully stocked infirmary with recovery beds, an operating/treatment table bed, sink, a lot of storage, and a fridge for blood as well as medications that need to be chilled. The rest of the short hall leads to three openings. To the left is an open door that leads to the costume/suit/equipment storage and repair table (one wall has cases for the suits and the other wall has lockers for weapons and other equipment, and the repair/maintenance is at the back of the room),  straight leads down a short set of stairs to a workout/training area with a sparring mat and training weapons on the right and the left has a weight training area, treadmills, and rock climbing wall. There is also a door to a shooting range at the other side of the room. To the right is a walkway that is mostly open, with a railing, to see into the training area. It leads to a closed door that opens to a small room for antidote making and other chem testing work. Then there is the control room, which is an open computer area that contains all of Sentry’s computers and systems. A couple chairs and a fridge in the one corner for drinks as well as a loveseat along the back wall.

Helena and Tam set down the equipment so Tim can efficiently hook the last of the computers together and activate all systems. Immediately the largest monitor (also the only touch screen monitor) is full of the Citadel camera feeds and system information on the building. Another monitor starts up his Watcher and Overwatch programs (not currently active but ready to be used with input as needed); as well as Scout (the program that tracks police radar and now can also catch key phrases on Gotham public posts on certain forums and social media platforms-mostly to catch early warning signs of rogue or major crime activity). The last computer is for files and case work. 

Tim turns his chair (custom made, super comfortable and on wheels) to face the two women. Tam had sat down at the Citadel monitoring computer to flip through different camera feeds. Helena, who is watching Tim and Tam, is sitting on the small couch. 

“So, tell us what happened tonight,” Tim says.

Helena nods. “From what I saw tonight, Spoiler’s a brand new vigilante. She sounds young, fights like an inexperienced brawler. But she is fast and somewhat unpredictable. It’s like she’s not used to fighting but has a natural knack for it. When I got her alone, she said something about a new villain that just popped up, Cluemaster. I think we could maybe help her with that; but it sounds personal to her.” Helena pauses as her brows furrow in thought. “Spoiler seemed somewhat scared of us.”

Tam raises an eyebrow and glances from Helena to Tim.

Tim frowns. “Us?” he asks. “Us as in the three of us or as in vigilantes in general?” If she’s afraid of us personally, she may not really cooperate. But if it’s more of a general ‘I’m not sure who I can trust’ fear then we can probably earn her faith.

“She seems less scared of the three of us and more so of the bats. I met her when I saw her and Nightwing engaging in a minor tussle.” Helena’s lips twitch slightly. 

“Minor tussle?” Tam says. “Did Nightwing hurt her?”

Huntress chuckles lowly. “No. He just caught her and pinned her to the roof. He was trying to zip tie her but she was wiggly and kinda mean. Can’t blame him though. Cause twenty seconds before that, I watched her hit him in the face with a brick.” She pauses to snort out a laugh. “I stepped in after. I may have claimed she was with me temporarily. Told Nightwing that he should’ve been more careful about surprising vigilantes. After I got him to back off slightly, I spoke to Spoiler for a minute and got her to agree to meet with the three of us.”

Tam covers her mouth with her hand.

Tim doesn’t bother to cover his gaping expression. “A brick?” Tim is buffering. “She hit Nightwing with a brick? To his face?”

Helena’s grin is a bit mean but more towards Nightwing than anything. “Oh yeah. Shocked the hell out of him too. I wish I had a recording feature in part of my suit or something; would have been hilarious to play back. I think he was genuinely approaching to offer his help; like he maybe assumed she was a young inexperienced vigilante that he wanted to make sure was okay. He was being his friendly self and Spoiler picked up a brick, hit him, and tried to run. After the shock of that, he caught her and subdued her quickly. He wasn’t rough or mean. But I also don’t think he’s going to approach her like that again.”

“And then he just let you take over, take her away?” Tam asks.

Huntress shrugs. “Yep. She seemed cautious but not angry. Let her go and he grappled away with a bloody and bruised cheek.”

Tim nods slightly. “Nightwing sees us as allies or at least friendly acquaintances; I think he’s willing to give us leeway here and there. I can always contact Barbara to make sure everything is okay.”

“Anything else about Spoiler?” Tam asks.

Huntress hums and frowns slightly. “She isn’t well-equipped. Her costume is mostly normal looking fabric, no armor, and she has low-grade weapons and not a lot of supporting equipment. But she’s fast and agile. She’s aggressive but new to this. I think she could use some help.”

Tim props his chin up on his palm. “Cluemaster is someone she probably has personal beef with though. That’s where I’d start researching if I wanted more clues to who Spoiler is.”

“Are you going to obsessively research until you know?” Tam asks with a raised eyebrow.

“N-no,” Tim splutters. “I mean, maybe.” He glances back to Helena. “Do you think I shouldn’t find out who she is?”

Helena gives him a slightly amused look. “I don’t think you could not find it all out. You knew who I was; sure at first it was disconcerting but you appear so calm and level that you’re not overly threatening when you do it. Not like the Bat. Find out who she is and we can talk to her in a couple days. We could offer her help. I’m not sure exactly what she could need, but you could figure it out and be prepared.” Helena pauses to chuckle. “I’m pretty sure being prepared is kind of your thing, Tim.”

Tim nods, already thinking of possible things to start looking into. “I will start researching Cluemaster and see where that leads. I’ll stay here tonight to make sure all the systems are okay and to start working on this new vigilante stuff.”

Both women end up staying as well; though they go down to B2 to explore and crash in the bunk room. Tim stays up and starts searching for everything about Cluemaster.

The next morning, Tam and Helena bring Tim a couple breakfast burritos on a plate from the living area floor (Tim makes a mental note that he needs to stock the pantry down there sometime). Tim absently starts eating while finishing up the files he’s put together on Spoiler and Cluemaster. Once he’s done (with both food and files), Tim glances over to see Tam frowning from her seat in the other computer chair.

“Uhhh…”

“Why didn’t you go to bed last night?” Tam asks. 

Tim motions to the computer in front of him. “I was figuring out Spoiler.”

“Uh huh.”

Tim looks away. “It’s important.”

“A lot of stuff is important, Tim,” Tam sighs. “But you need to take care of yourself too. Your leg is probably going to be pretty sore from sitting there all night. You need to go down and take a nap.”

Tim sighs. He can’t help but now notice that his leg is actually throbbing from sitting still so long and he’s probably just been ignoring it while he got sucked into his investigation. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Tam says, smirking slightly. “Now, come on. I’ll help you.”

“Shouldn’t we go over what I figured out?” Tim asks as he allows Tam to help pull him into standing position. Tam steadies him when his leg shakes at suddenly trying to support him.

“I’m sure it can wait for later,” Tam says as she pulls his free arm through hers so she can support him slightly from the side. “Helena has gone out already for her day job. You can tell us everything later tonight.”

Tim nods. Once they are on level B2, Tim takes his meds, changes and flops down on his comfortable bed. He didn’t realize until that moment how tired he actually was. 

Later that night, once Helena is back at the Citadel and Tim rested, the trio meet back up in the control room to go over information before patrol. The two women are surprised to learn that Cluemaster (a.k.a. Arthur Brown) is Spoiler’s (a.k.a. Stephanie Brown) father. Arthur Brown was actually arrested a couple years ago without much fuss and has resided in Blackgate until recently as he was believed to have been ‘rehabilitated’. It turns out his M.O. has just changed slightly as he’s no longer leaving his gimmicky clues and riddles behind at the scenes of his crimes (such a Riddler knockoff, and not nearly as intelligent). Tim has evidence that it’s actually Spoiler attempting to leave clues at her father’s crime scenes to help police (or the bats but Batman has only recently become more stable) catch him once more. 

Stephanie Brown, on the other hand, is a good person and a student at Gotham Public High School. She’s in gymnastics, she has fairly steady good grades, and from all the research, apparently a kind and down to earth individual. Stephanie’s mother, Crystal Brown, is a nurse at Gotham’s West Mercy Hospital. Crystal Brown is a normal civilian with an addiction to pain pills from what Tim can garner from all of her records from different doctors. 

After he’s done explaining all he’s found, he looks over to the two women who are staring at him from the couch. Tam looks thoughtful. Helena looks angry.

“So her father is a villain and she’s trying to stop him,” Helena says coldly. “What a bastard.”

Tam nods. “It seems that Miss Brown is resourceful and good but lacking a good support system besides a mother with her own issues.”

“We are going to offer her help,” Tim assures. “From the few times she’s caught on video that I can find, Helena is correct in that Spoiler doesn’t look like she has good gear. She does seem naturally capable, but is lacking in the funds to actually pursue this to her full potential.”

“Right,” Helena says, a darkly pensive look on her face. “Are we also going to help her take her father down?”

“We can offer her assistance,” Tim answers. “She may want to do it herself; but if she wants help, I was going to ask you, Helena, to work with her on capturing Cluemaster, while Tam and I can handle evidence gathering and watching the rest of our territory of patrols.”

Helena nods. “Gladly.”

The rest of that night passes quietly, with some normal patrol activity. Tim continues gathering evidence and creates a usb with what is necessary to hand over to Commissioner Gordon when Cluemaster is captured.

The next night, Sentry, Courtier, and Huntress go out to the meeting place in the Bowery. The three of them get up on a low rooftop (a little more out of the way to be harder to spy on them). Huntress helps both Sentry and Courtier with landing on the roof. Courtier isn’t going to be a main patroller/fighter so she probably doesn’t need to be great at it; she has only trained a little with grapples. Sentry knows how to use one proficiently but actually using it comes with the knowledge that his left leg isn’t strong enough for him to use the skill often; he can swing and shoot but landing can be painful and can cause harm to his bad leg even if it all goes perfectly. But they make it to the rooftop and wait for about ten minutes for their potential ally to appear. 

Soon enough, Spoiler is landing on the roof and straightening up to look at the three of them. Sentry stands in the center, his both of his hands resting on his cane as he calmly watches the purple-clad vigilante. Courtier is to his right, wearing her armored business looking suit and mask, holding a manila folder (this contains some options for Spoiler to look through if she chooses to accept their aid in getting gear made for her; Tam did that research while Tim was sleeping yesterday). Huntress stands to his left, one hand on her hip, her demeanor open and calm, a slight smirk on her face.

Spoiler, in her full face cloth mask and bodysuit, shuffles forward so she’s five feet away. Sentry can read some nervousness in her demeanor but she doesn’t seem afraid of them.

“Hey, Spoiler,” Huntress starts, as agreed by the trio, since she’s the one Spoiler knows in passing. “Let me introduce these two. Courtier is the woman; she helps in a support capacity and is a fantastic driver and good under pressure. Sentry is the man; he’s an investigative detective vigilante and our leader. Courtier, Sentry, this is Spoiler.”

Sentry nods his head. “It is good to meet you.”

“Hello,” Courtier says in a calm tone.

Spoiler nods back. “Hi, um, nice to meet you too.” She shuffles a bit. “Am I going to be in trouble for hitting Nightwing?”

Oh I need to message Barbara, I forgot… I’ll ask her out on another coffee date, we can have another of our chats. “No,” Sentry says. “Nightwing is a good hero; he won’t hold that against you.”

“Plus, I vouched for you,” Huntress says with a smile. “And I’m part of Sentry’s team; Nightwing and Oracle trust Sentry, therefore, I have some trust with them.”

Spoiler tilts her head slightly before nodding. “Okay. So, what are we talking about then?” Her shoulders relax, making her look less nervous.

Huntress nudges Sentry.

“I have done research and have gathered everything I think we need to put your father back in prison,” Sentry explains. “We would like to offer you aid in capturing him.”

“My father?”

“Cluemaster,” Sentry answers.

Spoiler tenses back up and flinches back slightly. “You know who I am?”

“Yes,” Sentry replies, holding himself in a relaxed manner. “We mean you no harm. I’d like to extend our aid to you. Though I also understand if you don’t want to accept our help.”

“Sentry is scarily smart,” Huntress says.

Sentry sighs, tilting his chin down.

“But he’s a good person,” Huntress continues. “He’s kind and genuine and good. He wants to help because you could use it.”

Spoiler crosses her arms. “What if I don’t need your guys’ help?”

“You do though,” Sentry says bluntly but softly. “You are wearing mostly spandex which offers no protection or support. Your weapons are second hand and your grapple gun is an old model known to jam. You are agile and quick but you have no formal training; you can brawl but you could be easily overwhelmed if you’re not careful. I’m not saying you can’t do this or that you aren’t strong enough; I’m saying you could use our help. We want to help you. I want to help you. You have the potential to be a good hero; I just want to make sure you’ll be able to survive and thrive to do so.”

Spoiler is relaxed again and turns her head slightly more towards Huntress. “Jeez, that was…I don’t even know what to say.”

Huntress chuckles. “Trust me, I know. The first time I met him he was all ‘I know who you are, I think you’re awesome’ too.”

Sentry frowns, thankful that his rising blush can’t be seen under the mask he wears. “I didn’t say that,” he mutters as he shuffles his feet slightly and leans towards Courtier.

Courtier laughs. 

“Not in those exact words but that’s what you implied,” Huntress says. 

Spoiler suddenly fully relaxes, almost slouching, as she watches them. “Huh.”

“What?” Sentry says, a little defensive, feeling flustered.

“Is he cute under that mask set up he’s got going on?” Spoiler asks, a teasing tone in her voice.

“He is,” Courtier laughs. 

Heat rushes to his face even faster, ears now burning, Sentry turns to look at Courtier. “I-I am not.”

“Oh he is,” Huntress says. “He’s so smart and serious but he’s adorable too.”

Both women sound like fond/teasing older siblings. 

Tim thinks he might faint if more blood rushes to his head for blushing. “Oh my god, stop. I’m not adorable. What are you two doing?” If Tim didn’t have trauma, he’d be tempted to fling himself off the roof. 

Spoiler starts laughing, her head tilting backwards as she shakes with mirth.

Courtier reaches out to squeeze Sentry’s elbow for slight comfort. Huntress pats Sentry’s shoulder.

“Oh, you guys seem fun,” Spoiler says as she springs forward slightly, her demeanor now playful versus the earlier nervous. “Sure, I could use the help. My dad is kinda an asshole, ya know. He’s never hit me but he can be mean to my mom and he’s so obsessed with Riddler and he’s become a villain. I just want to stop him. I want to help protect the people that he hurts.”

Sentry nods, he can still feel the heat on his ears. “Will you still want to be a vigilante after Cluemaster is in jail?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Spoiler says. “I like being strong enough to protect people. I want to help.”

Sentry hums thoughtfully. “I have some kevlar vests; you can borrow one while we work to capture Cluemaster. I don’t want you to go into it unarmored. I’ll also give you a much better grapple gun and some other gear. What weapons are you comfortable with? I’ll get some made for you if I don’t have spares. Would you like a new suit? I have a supplier I can custom order from.”

Spoiler has frozen again, obviously staring at him, even though her face is covered. She turns to glance between the other two women. “Is he serious? What’s this going to cost me?”

Sentry, Huntress, and Courtier all respond at once.

“Don’t worry, he just likes to do this for his people,” Courtier says in a fond tone.

“He’s just like this,” Huntress says in an amused tone.

“What? No. I’m just trying to give you necessary gear,” Tim responds, worried that he’s come across as weird or creepy.

“Oh,” is what Spoiler says to all that. “Okay then. I don’t really have any weapons besides a couple shabby  fighting sticks; I use what I can find around me a lot. I’m not really trained. I have pretty good throwing aim though and I like fighting at close range, I think.”

Tim nods. “I’ll give you some smoke bombs and flash grenades at the very least.”

Huntress hums thoughtfully. “I am pretty skilled with a bo staff; is that something that you think you’d like to learn how to use? I could train you. We could help you refine hand-to-hand combat as well.”

Spoiler nods. “That sounds cool.”

After ironing out a few more details, they agree that in a couple days, Huntress will meet up with Spoiler to capture Cluemaster where Spoiler is pretty sure his next scheme will be taking place. While those two do that, Sentry is going to ask to meet with Commissioner Gordon to hand over evidence and plan a villain pick up. Spoiler leaves with a new grapple (an extra Sentry was carrying) and a phone number to contact if she needs help. 

The plan goes well. Huntress is an extremely effective fighter; so she and Spoiler were able to take Cluemaster by surprise and capture him. Sentry met with Commissioner Gordon to hand over a flash drive as well as watch as a few of Gordon’s trusted officers took Cluemaster into custody (while Huntress and Spoiler watched from a nearby rooftop). Before Sentry leaves, Gordon hands him a file with a favor asked. Two younger police officers had been killed after questioning the ethics of a judge; Gordon wants to know if they had something to do with the officers’ deaths. Sentry agrees to look into it for him. The vigilantes leave as Gordon walks away. 

The four vigilantes meet at another abandoned rooftop. 

The first thing Spoiler does once they’ve all landed on the roof is hug Sentry tightly. Sentry nearly flinches at the sudden intense movement. Realizing it’s just affection, Sentry softens and puts his free arm around the young woman.

“Thank you,” Spoiler whispers into his shoulder where her head is buried. “I didn’t think anyone was going to help me. I just couldn’t get everything to line up right to get the police to capture him.”

“Um,” Sentry starts. “You’re very welcome. It’s our job, I guess.” He pats her back. “You did well too.”

She squeezes one more time before letting go and stepping back. Spoiler laughs wetly as she reaches up as if she were going to wipe tears from her face but realizes she’s wearing a full face mask and instead just shakes her arms out for a moment. “You guys are amazing. And so much less scary than Batman.”

“Batman,” Huntress scoffs and clicks her tongue as she glares off to the side. 

Spoiler tilts her head. “Do we not like Batman?”

“No,” Huntress and Courtier say.

“It’s fine,” Sentry says. He sighs.

There’s an awkward pause as Spoiler glances between the three of them. “Oookaaayyy, not poking that right now,” she says as she leans back and raises her hands. “So…what happens now?”

“How do you mean?” Courtier asks gently.

“Well, I mean.” Spoiler stops to take a breath. “Sentry, I would like to join your team. Like officially.” 

Tim’s brain buffers slightly. W-what? Just like that? She barely knows us. She doesn’t even know who we are under our masks. 

…

Well… Helena does seem excited to train her. 

And she’s clever; clever enough that she’d probably be a good match against some of the rogues. She has potential. Stephanie Brown could be a hero; she already is one. I can provide her gear (which I was already planning to do anyway) and help train her to be a better, well-rounded fighter. Huntress wouldn’t be our only main melee fighter. 

…

It’s good thing the Citadel’s bunk room has more beds.

“Um, Sentry?” Spoiler asks.

“It’s okay, let him process,” Courtier says, amused fondness in her tone.

“Yeah, he’s a genius but sometimes he needs to, like, reboot his systems,” Huntress laughs.

“Sorry, I was just surprised,” Sentry responds. “I don’t expect everyone I help to want to join my uh team or anything. There’s no pressure or obligation.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear,” Spoiler says. “But, like. Huntress butted in and helped me escape Nightwing. You planned my dad’s capture with the information I provided. You offered to give me gear and training. Even before I actually met you guys, I was hearing what people were saying about Sentry. You’re helping people. I want to be part of the actual good you’re doing.” She pauses, fists clenching at her sides. “Sentry, I want you to give me a place in your team.”

Sentry reaches out to pat her shoulder. “Okay, you can join us. Welcome to the team. Want to go see our secret base and look at suit additions?”

“What? You’re just going to immediately trust me to come to your secret base?” Spoiler hisses as her hands fly up to her cheeks.

Huntress laughs. “He’s just like that. Besides, the Citadel is where I was hoping to train you anyway.”

“And even if you betray us, betray Sentry, we would destroy you and make sure that anyone you would try to tell wouldn’t believe you,” Courtier threatens, her voice hard and cold.

Huntress nods. “Yeah, I’d shoot you.”

Tim’s cheeks heat again, this time at the loyalty portrayed. “From what we’ve seen so far, you are someone we can put a little faith in.”

Spoiler who has frozen nods slightly. “And you could destroy me?”

Sentry nods. “I could; pretty easily too. Anyway, let’s go.”

Once, back at the Citadel, everyone takes their masks off (even though Stephanie said it was unnecessary; Tim thinks that the team that he’s apparently building deserves to trust each other). It’s amusing how surprised Stephanie is at learning who is under the Sentry get-up.

They are all in the computer room of the Citadel; Tim and Tam in the computer chairs, Stephanie and Helena on the small couch.

Stephanie is staring with wide blue eyes at Tim. “Dude, how old are you?”

Tim frowns. “I’m sixteen,” he says defensively.

Stephanie keeps staring. “I’m seventeen.”

“I know,” Tim says. “I don’t think that matters that much.”

“Ok,” Stephanie says, nodding decisively. “The baby is the leader, got it.”

Tim makes a noise like a dying cat.

Helena cackles. Tam covers her smile with a hand, trying to smother her laugh.

“I am not a baby,” Tim hisses.

“No, you’re The baby,” Steph says. 

“Yeah, Tim, you’re the baby,” Helena says with a smirk. 

Tim looks in horror at Tam, who smiles at him. 

“It’s ok, Tim, you’re still our leader,” Tam consoles.

Tim huffs. “Whatever…Anyway. Let me show you some armor that can be added to your costume. You need some protection.”

“Then afterwards, we can go to the sparring mat to test some stuff out,” Helena purrs, a gleeful smile lighting up her sharp features.

Besides telling Tim she prefers specifically ‘eggplant’ purple, Stephanie is open to most things. She likes her cape and would like to have a better mask set-up. 

Tim sighs. “It might be easier to come up with a new suit than try to modify the current one. That way all the material will blend well and be better quality from my supplier.”

Stephanie stares at him for a long moment, something watchful in her darker blue eyes. As she watches him, she seems to come to some kind of conclusion and nods. “Cool. Will you give me a new name with the new suit?”

Tim starts nodding before the words fully process. He freezes for a moment before turning to stare back at her. “Uh, I meant for you to design something. And why a new name?”

Stephanie smiles. “I legit don’t care besides the things I already told you; you’d probably come up with something better anyway. And, well. I want to fit your team. You all match the knightly aesthetic. I want to be part of it. Spoiler was just cause I was ‘spoiling my dad’s plans’, ya’ know. I was never really sure I was going to go further than that. But, you guys are pretty cool and you said that I have potential.”

Tim’s stomach feels fluttery. Where is all of their faith in me coming from? I haven’t done anything that amazing. “I. Um. Are you sure?”

“Yep! I think it’ll be cool.”

Tim nods.

“So, do we have, like, a team name or something?”Stephanie asks.

“No, we haven’t come up with one so far,” Tam says from her spot watching over the Citadel’s systems. “But I’ve seen some people wondering about it online.”

“Guess that should be decided before someone decides to come up with something for us,” Tim says under his breath.

“The Knights?” Stephanie says.

“No; Batman is called the dark knight; we should leave that to him,” Tam says. “The Court?”

“No, Gotham has a much more dangerous ‘Court’ we don’t want to mess with,” Tim says thinking of the rumors about owls and undead assassins.

“How about the Guards?” Helena asks. “You’ve said multiple times that you’re ‘guarding’ Gotham. So we become the Guards. Simple but lets people know exactly what we’re doing.”

“Sounds good,” Tam agrees.

Stephanie nods.

“Then Guards it is,” Tim says. I’ll have to get some new business cards.

Soon enough, Helena drags Stephanie away to start running through weapons and hand to hand drills to get a feel for what the younger woman will be drawn to fighting with. Tim starts drawing up suit design plans. After a little over an hour, Stephanie is led out so she can go home. Helena informs Tim that Stephanie leans toward the bo staff and hand to hand, with a good feel for throwing knives. Tim adds the notes so he can order specialized weapons for the blond. 

With a little advice from Tam and plenty of research, Tim has a fully drawn up suit for Stephanie. When asked, Stephanie tells him to just get it crafted (and not show her). When asked, Tam suggests that it’s possible Stephanie wants concrete proof that Tim means this and won’t just show her and then yank it away; that Stephanie needs the reassurance. 

So he orders the suit and starts engraving a new plaque for the costume case for Stephanie in the suit-storage cases. 

As he waits for everything to come together, Tim emails Barbara so they can set up their next coffee session. The day after Stephanie’s suit is going to arrive, Tim and Barbara are going to meet up at their usual cafe. Tim plans to tell Barbara all about the team name and Stephanie’s new identity.

A week later two cases are delivered to Gotham for the new addition to the Guards. Tim takes the time to display the new suit and weapon case for Stephanie to see when she comes the next night.

Tim leads Stephanie (as well as Tam and Helena)  to see her new suit and name. The brass nameplate above the case, the new suit, and the propped open case of custom weapons and support gear wait for her.

Tam smiles when she sees the set up. Helena tilts her head before grinning and saying “It fits.” Stephanie gasps as she takes the sight in. A couple tears escape to trail down her pink cheeks. She quickly wipes them away before suddenly lunging at Tim to wrap him in an aggressive hug (Helena helps hold him up when Stephanie almost bowls him over).

Tim’s stomach drops like an anchor. “Do you not like it? I can get a different design. Or is it the name? I mean, it might be a little unusual, but I thought it sounded cool. Not that it matters! You can change it.”

“Shut up,” Stephanie whines against his shoulder. “Oh my god. It’s perfect; stop freaking out. I’m just so freaking happy. You actually made me a suit and name.” She laughs wetly. “You really accept me on your team.”

Tim finally embraces her back. “Yeah. I mean. I said I did.”

Stephanie buries her face harder into his shoulder. “Yeah. But people can lie. You meant it. You followed through.”

“Of course,” Tim responds helplessly. He awkwardly rubs her back. “So. Do you want to try it on?”

Stephanie gives one more squeeze before springing away. “Yes, I do! It looks badass!”

In her new suit, Stephanie stands on the sparring mat to go through some exercises and movements to make sure everything fits and there are no problems (there aren’t). The base of the suit is an eggplant purple and covers her from ankle to throat to wrist in a thin Armortex material; this layer is nearly skin tight but not restrictive. There are black panels that are slightly thicker along the outside of her hips and thighs to add padding. There is also a black utility belt with brass colored buckles. A black shaped cuirass-like armor piece made of a mix of harder materials and kevlar protects her vital organs; it has a stylized spear motif diagon across her chest in brass. Black boots with purple laces and soles (steel toe of course) reach about mid calf on her. Black knee pads that taper to a slight point at the top (it will hurt a lot but probably not stab if she knees someone). Black glove/gauntlets, with brass colored knuckle studs, that encase her arms to her black elbow pads. A cape with a hood (outer black, lined with purple on the inside) has a quick release connector at the center of her collarbones in the shape of a knight’s helm (the cape connector resembles a brass brooch but also connects to the cuirass and if she hits the release the cap fabric will easily fall away; Tim made sure it can’t be easily used to strangle her). Finally, a dark purple mask similar to what Sentry and Courtier wear that can act as a rebreather and a black domino mask (these have the white lenses that can give her night vision) finish the suit. Her weapon case contains a special-made purple and brass colored grapple gun, a collapsible bo, a set of slim throwing knives (black blades, purple leather handles), a taser, and a couple belt pouches full of smoke pellets and stun grenades.

“This suit is amazing, Tim,” Stephanie says as she moves around gracefully.

Tim smiles. “Welcome to the Guards, Lancelot.”

Lancelot, named for a loyal and strong knight, pumps her fist in the air as she leaps up.