Donald wasn’t sure of many things right this moment.
He didn’t know where he was.
He didn’t know the time.
He didn’t know the day.
He didn’t even know if he was human.
What he did know is that it was currently dark and pleasantly cool wherever he was.
The vibrations that had been running through his body were uncomfortable, but he’d gotten used to it.
But everything changed suddenly.
He could feel himself being moved, jostling against the others.
And then he was falling!
He was crying in distress, and so too were his fellows.
The ground was uncomfortable, rough and cold where before it had been smooth and cool.
Suddenly things changed!
The ground became painfully hard, and the others (They had names!
He could remember names!) were a tangled, jumbled pile of naked flesh and limbs.
“Mornin’ gents.” Donald looked up, someone was standing in front of their dozen strong pile of writhing, struggling men.
He had to pull someone’s elbow out of his kidney before he could really get a good look.
The kid, and it was definitely a kid, he was just a little too short and his voice a bit too high, was just casually standing there in a pair of ratty jeans, a dark blue hoodie and the dumbest looking goggles Donnie had ever seen.
“The hell’d you do to us!” Larry had finally pulled himself free and rolled off of Murry to stand up and try to menace the kid.
A little difficult when he’s hunched over and holding his wedding tackle, but still, the man tried.
“One of you grabbed the wrong cat.
I came to get ‘er and one of your boys thought it’d be smart to pull a gun on me.” Donnie doesn’t know how, or why, but a dozen pairs of pants drop into the kids outstretched arms.
Then shirts, socks, shoes…
The underwear just drops straight to the ground though.
“You have any idea who we are, punk?
Who you’re messing with?” Giuseppe was practically yelling before he’d even gotten up.
Thinking on it, Donnie figures he would’a been on door duty.
“Jesse, shut it!” Paulie is pulling himself out from the bottom of the group, the red on the man’s face would put a tomato to shame.
Either the man is furious…
Or he got a weiner in the eye.
The kid just leans back against a brick wall, apparently he’d done whatever he’d done with all of ’em in an alley.
Donnie thinks he might know where it is.
“Kid.
You got a name?” Paul is getting his pants on while he asks, apparently deciding to just go with things.
“Alchemist.” “Alchemist.
Alright.
Whatever you want it to be.
On behalf of myself and my boys here, I would like to apologize for bothering you.” Donnie has to stare at Paulie when he says that.
This guy storms their operation, catches all of ’em with their pants down and…
Suddenly, what Paulie’s doing is making a lot more sense.
“I’d say we’re even.” The kid, Alchemist, is looking over the now much more clothed and subdued group.
“Your guns and the take are at the bottom of the bay.
Next time I have to come asking after my property, let’s not do this again.” The boys are digging through their pockets, checking phones and wallets when the kid speaks up again.
“Who drives the ’97 Ford, the green one?” Donald raised his hand.
He wasn’t proud of having the oldest car of the group, but he was trying to save up, send his girl to school.
He almost fumbles when the keys hit him in the stomach.
“Oughtta be a full tank of gas.” The kid just waves and then…
Disappears.
Donnie’s staring at where he had been, and he knows he ain’t the only one.
“Yeah, like that ain’t just goddamn terrifying.” It takes Donnie a moment before he realizes it’s Paulie talking.
“What the hell?!
Why’d you apologize to ‘im boss?” Giuseppe is getting into the smaller man’s face.
Right up until he’s falling flat on his ass, his nose busted and bleeding.
“I tell you to start talkin’ Jesse?” Paulie pulled a phone out of his pocket and pressed speed dial.
There’s only one person he’d be calling after a night like that.
“Hey honey?” …There’s only two people he’d be calling after a night like that.
—– Batman reads over the reports Robin had brought him.
He’d done a passable job reviewing the warehouse where the dogfighting had been happening.
He’d only failed to take pictures of a few locations Batman needed to see.
A vast improvement from his earlier days, and likely it would continue to improve as the young man got more experience.
None of the mobsters had shown up in missing persons reports, either on Tuesday or today.
One young man had been reported as a runaway yesterday, but against organized crime or the likes of The Joker or Two-Face, he just couldn’t dedicate any time to tracking down hormonal teenagers.
“Incoming Call” The computer terminal announced.
The geographic ID for the source indicated it was coming from Washington, D.C.
Batman pressed enter, accepting the call.
He waited one heartbeat, then two.
“Who is this?” “Uh, Sir?
Batman?
Sir?
It’s, uh, it’s Janice.
From the Hall of Justice?
We got a letter for you and, uh, we think it’s a code but it doesn’t match any of the normal profiles.” Batman almost grinned.
Almost.
The poor girl sounded terrified.
“Send me a copy.” He could hear her clicking a few things through their connection and moments later he could see the words ‘File recieved’ onscreen.
“Janice.
Good work.” The caped crusader disconnected immediately.
If this was another threat, or if Calender Man had come up with a new cipher it would require his immediate attention.
It was, probably, neither of those things.
To: Dumpster diver in bat condition Saw you take a tumble over the weekend.
Wanted to offer help, but had to leave when I saw the Bane of my existence.
Left a little present to help Clean his conscience.
Still sore?
Give me a call and we’ll work things out.
It had no signature, but it did include a phone number.
One with an area code that would indicate northern Gotham.
That could potentially be a feint, Nygma could easily have come up with such a plan.
On the other hand, if he had, the letter would have been much less obvious.
Frankly put, that was the most vexing part.
The letter simply didn’t match the complexity Gotham’s villains worked at.
The closest could have potentially been Catwoman, but she would have added several layers of innuendo referencing her Kitty multiple times.
The dark knight read the letter again, and then a third time for good measure.
Nothing changed, nothing new stood out.
It read like it had been dumbed down as much as possible while still maintaining the presumption of subtlety.
Batman actually felt a little bit insulted.
That didn’t stop him from setting up a private network and creating a temporary number.
If there was a new force in Gotham, he needed to know.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
A third time.
“Hello?” The person who picked up sounded young.
Another kid, then.
“I recieved your letter.” Batman wasn’t sure what he was hearing in the background.
It was a series of short clicks before shifting to one long tone and then back to clicks.
“Oh!
Bart!
Awesome.” Really?
“How’ve you been?” “What is it that you want?
Why were you trying to contact me?” “Nah, I’m at the library right now.
Give me just a second and I’ll get somewhere more private.” The Batman resisted the urge to sigh.
This.
This was why he was adamant about the Justice League actually doing some form of training.
The trace running in the background confirmed the boys statement.
“Alright.
Looks clear.
I’m a healer.” “You’re a…
What?” There was no way someone had gotten it into their head to just advertise that fact.
“Healer.
Broken people, I can fix ’em.
Why do you think Mucho-Muscles lost his mojo?
Cleaned the poison out of his system at range.” Bruce could hear the kid flipping through papers before he made a dissatisfied sound.
“You need some help, give me a call.
We’ll call that first time a consultation.
Just give me a time and place and an hour heads up.” And then, the kid hung up.
Bruce was bemused.
On the one hand, he had a kid claiming to be a healer of some sort.
On the other, that same kid was claiming he’d weaponized that ability to take down what was possibly one of the most dangerous mercenaries outside of Deathstroke on Earth.
He had a few options on how to play this out, but all of them relied on information.
To that end, he picked up his league communicator.
“J’onn?
Something’s come up and I could use your assistance.
Here are the details…”