luke henry ; robin (![]() ![]() @ 2011-01-27 15:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, lois lane, robin |
Who: Luke, Max and not-there!Thomas
What: Hunting for information, aka snooping and invading Thomas' privacy out of necessity.
Where: The Bat's parking garage warehouse.
When: After the National Guard fiasco.
Warnings: Depressing None.
There were choices to be made once the others reached the hotel. Max could stay, and she could hold Oracle’s hand, and she could go with the paramedics who would insist on a million tests to find what they’d been injected with, even though it was too late to do anything about whatever it had been. She could stay, and she could answer questions. She could do those things. She probably should have done those things. Thomas would have wanted that, she knew. And then there was the fact that they hadn’t been knocked out for nothing. All the electronic equipment was as it had been when the hotel had been broken into, but that didn’t mean data hadn’t been stolen. Whoever had sent the men had known they were part of the team breaking into the National Guard - had known they were breaking into the National Guard. They’d been compromised somehow, and she could have sat there and gone through possibilities for the leak, objectives, who the target asset was. Her father would have approved of that.
But no, because Max knew one damn thing. If Thomas wasn’t the first person in that hotel room, it meant he was down. Somewhere. Somehow. He was down. And that meant they needed to find his last lead, and they needed to find it now. No time to waste for hospitals, doctors, police or questions. And she damn well wasn’t involving the police department, regardless of her respect for Kyle. No, this was going to involve going through Thomas’ things, and the only person she would let do that was Luke.
The air outside the hotel was crisp, cold, and there were flashing lights everywhere - police and fire and paramedics. She hugged her arms around her, and she tried to think of where to start. It was a good thing, her training, when it came to times like this. She wanted to cry, to scream, and she rubbed her neck where the tranquilizer dart had left a bruise, but she didn’t make a sound. Enough time for breaking down later. Now, now was a mission, and she was used to dangerous ops.
Ever since he’d found out that Thomas was trailing the mask killer Luke had been afraid of this exact thing happening.There was no time to argue with Max about going with the paramedics or to make sure that one of the other vigilantes kept an eye on her, especially not when they had their hands full with Oracle and everything relating to the security breach. Better she went with him than off on her own - at least this way he could keep her safe. He’d ensure that she got some medical attention later, once there was something concrete for him to follow. There were too many people around for his liking, too many flashing lights considering the circumstances, but he did his best to keep away from the crowds as he went over their limited options. No matter what he had to do he’d find Thomas, and God help anyone who tried to get in his way, mask killer or otherwise.
“We should start with his warehouse.” There were numerous ones scattered about the city but the main one was his intended target. “If he left behind any clues about where he was going then they’d be there.” He hesitated, wondering if he should mention the mask killer. That would probably just send her into an even further panic, but she’d find out eventually, and right now he was almost positive that whatever happened to Thomas was connected to him.
Max nodded, turning toward the location she’d parked her truck, close since she was on the press list for the conference and felt no need to hide her presence there. “Do you think it’s related to what just happened?” she asked, thinking it out herself as she asked the question. “Or do you think we have two separate incidents?” Max had no idea that Thomas was trailing the Mask Killer so closely, and so she had no reason to associate this with him. She, therefore, assumed it was all related, whatever hit the hotel, whoever left the notes at the facility, and whatever happened to Thomas.
Max nodded toward the truck, which came into sight rather quickly, and she moved faster. “Which warehouse?” she asked, because the only one she was familiar with was the one that was cleared out for Corbinian, and she knew they weren’t going to find anything useful there. “He sent you to one during the Reavers. That one?” She unlocked the truck doors, and she climbed in and started the motor. “Coordinates?”
Luke swallowed heavily and shook his head. He knew if he started to panic then it was all over, which meant that he had to stay focused and hold fast to the belief that Thomas was still alive and they could get to him in time. “I think it’s different. He... he was trailing the mask killer. The last time I talked to him about it he said the trail was getting cold again, but that was a week ago and things could have changed since then.” It was clear from the tone of his voice that he was almost positive they had. The Bat never turned his communicator off, and he would have responded in some way by now if he’d been able to; he knew that for a fact.
He nodded absently, fighting to avoid losing himself in his own thoughts. “Yeah, that one.” He listed off the location as he climbed into the passenger side seat, feeling an irrational pang of impatience. Everything was moving so slowly but there was nothing else he could do. Not yet, at least. “We’re the only ones who can get in,” he added. “In the service elevator, underneath the middle panel, there’s a glass pad. Our handprints can activate it.” It occurred to him suddenly that he’d never asked Thomas how he’d gotten their handprints in the first place, and against his better judgement wondered if he would ever get the chance to.
Max pulled the truck out, and Luke’s panic, which he was trying so hard not show, made her own heart sink. Oh, God. He thought Thomas was dead. She was trying not to think about that herself, trying not to let it settle in her mind, and she turned toward the warehouse on auto-pilot, barely watching the road or the street signs as they passed. “He was trailing the Mask Killer,” she repeated, anger in the words. “How did you find out?” she asked, risking a look over at him. She was angry, and it was obvious. So much lecturing about being fucking safe, and he went after the Mask Killer. On his own. She was going to kill him.
If he was still alive.
When Luke began rambling, she forced herself to take a very deep, very steadying breath. The precautions, handprints, sounded like Thomas. “If he went that far to keep people out, there’s a good chance we find something there. He has to use something as his base, Luke, and it definitely isn’t home.” She caught herself. “Aubade. It isn’t Aubade. We’ll find him,” she said, as the warehouse came into view. “And once we do, we’re kicking his ass,” she added, because it felt better to think about being angry at him just then. “Lead the way.”
A bitter laugh caught in his throat and stayed there. “I didn’t find out from him. A friend of mine told me after he got her to ask some questions at a bar the mask killer apparently went to. She’s like us,” he added, gesturing down at himself, “but different.” Luke glanced at Max and saw the exact same anger he’d felt reflected in her gaze, the anger Thomas just didn’t seem to understand. “I told him I knew. He didn’t want me involved, fine. All I asked was for him to keep me informed. Was it really so hard for him to just--” He inhaled sharply and shook his head. Getting angry wouldn’t help any more than panicking would. He’d have all the time in the world for anger when - not if, when - they found him.
He didn’t say anything, simply nodding his agreement instead. There had to be something of use in there or else they’d be forced to search the entire city themselves. Well, not Max; but the others would help. He’d make them if he had to. “He’s not going out alone anymore. I’m going with him,” he said firmly, meaning every word of it. If Thomas didn’t think he was ready to accompany him yet, well, that was just too damn bad. Luke didn’t plan on giving him a choice in the matter anyway. As soon as the truck came to a stop he was out, finding the elevator and pulling the doors open just as he had in the past. The floor panel was yanked up and the pad activated, bringing the two of them to the third floor without trouble. “This is it,” he threw over his shoulder, stepping out of the elevator.
At first glance, the interior of this base seemed as impersonal as any other. The length of it, a football field at least, took the place of a warehouse’s height, and the cement and pavement of a parking lot still gave the place sound and texture. Even Thomas’ soundproofing and temperature moderation still didn’t hide the places where exhaust stained the walls. Yet the entrance, very personal and accessible to those who knew him well, belied the usual blink of the security cameras and the glass desk and glaring monitors. Paneling made up actual rooms, not wall-less false ones like that found in the warehouses; a medical room, a lab, a room with wardrobes and drawers of armor and weaponry... but as Luke discovered during the Reavers’ chaos, there were also rooms. Initially, it was clear, there had been only one, his, a square, unremarkable thing, but there was a bed and (amazingly) such luxuries as a pillow, a charger for his phone (work or personal, both were of the same brand), and another set of drawers, this time in wood.
Luke had successfully deactivated the security, though more screens showed the exterior of the structure to him. The computer asked for “VOICE ID?” in a blinking cursor. The desk was littered with copies of resumes, different candidates that he’d been looking at to replace Alfie in Thomas, Inc. The fax here clearly forwarded from his office. An incongruous business phone did the same, and showed several new messages.
There was something about the space that made Max pause just inside it. She’d never been there before, not like Luke, but it brought Thomas to mind much more than the Aubade apartment did. It took her a minute before she could bring herself to actually walk inside and glance in the rooms. The cell phone charger caught her attention as she walked into the personal room, her fingers skating over a smooth surface before she moved over to the desk. The computer (and its blinking prompt) made her look up to see where Luke was. It was a long shot, that Thomas had used a recording to grant the kid access to the PC, and she could try a hack, but she suspected they’d need someone of Oracle’s caliber for that. No, she was hoping Luke’s voice would work, because Thomas was just the kind of bastard that thought of worst case scenarios. She motioned at the screen. “Give it a try, kid,” she said, already reaching for the phone and the blinking messages.
The first three messages were from Thomas’ secretary, reminding him of meetings he’d missed. The fourth was from a board member giving a brief rundown of the meeting and also alluding (gently) to the unorthodox fact that he had not been there. There was an implication that there was a long-standing concern about Thomas’ health. A fifth call from an estate lawyer confirming that Mr. Sable’s affairs were in order. The sixth call was brief, about five seconds of white noise, and then a disconnect.
Luke refused to let himself pause and kept moving, holding stubbornly to his focus because he didn’t have anything else. His gaze passed briefly over the paper-covered desk and immediately settled on the computer, which held more interest for him than the blinking phone. He glanced at Max and hesitated, initially doubtful that his voice would do anything but cause a bunch of red flashing lights to pop up or whatever happened to protected computers when the wrong person tried to get in. Then again, it was their best shot. He approached the computer and leaned forward, regarding it uncertainly for a moment before attempting the obvious. “Luke Henry.”
The screen blinked. Literally, it blinked, the letters folding in on themselves and opening back up again. “ROBIN” the screen said, and damned if the white letters weren’t a little cheerful about it. A series of files opened into icons. They were disgustingly well organized, in a very military fashion, all having to do with the Bat and his doings. Financial records, invoices on where to order materials, blueprints for cars and belts and things that exploded or contorted or took one to places he was not meant to go. Personal files on everyone the Bat had ever come in contact with, from the driver of Thomas’ limo to Oracle. There were photos for these, photos that wouldn’t have shown up if this had been a different voice requesting access.
Besides these, there were two main folders of interest: “case files” and “final plans.”
Max had just listened to the last message when the computer screen changed to show “ROBIN,” and she put down the phone and almost missed the receiver because her attention was so fixed on the files that had just opened up. “Final plans,” she said, with a touch of dread, perfectly willing to let Luke drive the mouse and keyboard. “The messages were all about him missing meetings. I haven’t talked to him since yesterday, Luke.” Her voice broke up here, and it took her a minute to get it back under control. “We’re never home at the same time,” she admitted, guiltily. “When did you talk to him last?”
If he hadn’t been half-convinced that Thomas was either severely injured or already dead the other files would have interested him, but at the moment all he was focused on were the two that seemed most relevant to what they were after. Luke frowned at the screen and didn’t look towards Max, not even when her voice broke, because hearing it was bad enough. “Yesterday,” he said tonelessly, burying his guilt deep enough to keep it from being audible. “I’ll take care of the missed meetings once we find him. They won’t suspect anything if I come up with a decent excuse.” It was far from their most important worry at the moment, but focusing on the future was good. They’d find him, he’d be okay; everything would be fine. He moved the mouse over to the “final plans” folder and clicked, sharing the same sense of dread that Max felt at the title.
“ROBIN” apparently only had access to part of this file. Detailed instructions on how to access the will and testament, who to call, what to say. There were contingency plans for whether or not the world knew who the Bat was, both legal and practical. There were several more contingency plans for Luke depending on whether or not he wanted to dissolve the company, or if he felt he needed to leave the country. It seemed as if the Bat had safe places everywhere, not as if he was a multi-billion dollar personage, but rather as if he was a very smart but very hunted rabbit. All of these file names scrolled past rapidly, and then something else popped up and filled the screen: a three dimensional blue-print of the building they were standing in.
And Thomas’ voice issued from somewhere in one of the screens, sounding horribly, painfully uncomfortable. “These are plans I thought you could use. You don’t have to pick one, or even read them, but they’re there if you need it. I’ve set some things aside; you’ll know why. The rest is for you.” Part of the map lit up, showing a room further beyond what looked like concrete on the farthest end. It was, perhaps, four feet long. “I’m sorry I’m not there.” The audio file ended. The map disappeared. The files remained.
Max had been about to tell Luke to go back to the case file folders, because she wasn’t ready to give up, and these were fucking contingency plans. She was about to do that, but then the audio started, and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. She didn’t say a damn thing while the recording played, and she glanced toward where the room that was indicated was. “Go back,” she finally said, quiet almost unintelligible. “Let me try to log in.” Because maybe there was more there, maybe. She wasn’t ready to see whatever was in that fucking back room. Damn the bastard.
Luke immediately regretted not clicking on the case files and leaving this particular one untouched. He didn’t care about any wills or contingency plans because he didn’t need them. His hand was already on the mouse and he was trying to figure out a way to exit the screen when the audio caught him by surprise. He stared at the screen and listened, a slight narrowing of his eyes the only outward reaction to the lit part of the map. “Are you sure?” Letting Max try to log in didn’t seem like the best idea, but Thomas’ apology was still ringing in his ears and he couldn’t help glancing at the room indicated on the map. “Maybe we should just go to the case files...” It was a weak protest, though. He knew if Max wanted to log in then she’d do it with or without his agreement.
Max knew it wasn’t a good idea. She knew it, they should just go look at the case files and ignore the room altogether. She knew it, but that didn’t change the fact that the files might be different for different people, and she wanted to be absolutely sure what the hell she needed to be pissed about once they found him. She leaned over Luke’s shoulder, and she moved the mouse in his hand, taking it back to the login screen and the voice prompt. “Max Main,” she said, moving back and letting go of the mouse immediately, as if it might burn.
“CIPHER” the screen said, equally pleased as it had been the first time. This time there were a lot fewer main files; all the Bat-related equipment and records were missing, likely classified only for Luke. The personal files were there, but a very close examination would prove some were missing, like the one on Johnny, for example. “Case files” were there, however, and so were “final plans.”
Max nudged Luke’s shoulder, because she couldn’t bring herself to move the mouse herself. “Same folder.”
This was a bad idea. He should have refused, should have told her no and just gone to the case files to actually make some progress, but instead he moved the mouse with evident reluctance and clicked on the “final plans” folder once again.
More contingency files. Max’s are far more complex, the new identities tagged with instructions and people to contact for one additional identity and locations everywhere, though the majority are in the United States. He clearly has not had time to revisit this file since the Reavers, because nothing is provided in regards to Audrey. Max already has bank accounts under two other names, and doesn’t need to go through the legal channels Thomas instructed Luke on. Needless to say she could (would) be a very wealthy woman, and these are likely some of the ‘things’ Thomas ‘set aside.’
The files scroll through. The map comes up. The room flickers, indicating where one is supposed to go to get the rest of whatever he’s left. “Max. You’re... probably very angry with me. I don’t know why, particularly, but you probably are. I don’t blame you. Please don’t do anything rash. You’re probably completely justified, but I’m asking you not to. I know what it’s like to grow up without anyone, and I’ve somehow managed to leave you, Her, and Luke when it’s the last thing I wanted. Please take care. I’m sorry I’m not there.” Silence.
Max glanced toward the room again as the recording played, but she wasn’t really seeing anything just then. She brushed at her eyes with the back of her hands, and she didn’t say anything until she could manage it without crying or throwing something. “Room or case files?” she asked, still looking toward the room that had been indicated on the map. Normally, she would have made the decision, but this wasn’t normally. She shook her head, torn between wanting to send Luke to find whatever the hell was back there and wanting to protect him from whatever it was. In the end, she moved before he could reply. “Room first. You can come, or you can look through the files,” she said, wanting to give him an out.
Luke was prepared for the audio this time, but it didn’t make it any easier to listen to his voice and wonder if it was the last time he was going to hear it. They should have just avoided the “final plans” completely, but they’d gone this far now. The case files weren’t going anywhere. Before he could make his choice, though, Max decided first and that was good enough for him. He shook his head fiercely and gave her a look. “I’m not sitting here and pretending like I don’t want to know what’s back there. I’m coming.” He moved past her towards the back room, barely hesitating before going inside.
The door required another voice authentication, but as with the computer, their names opened it. It was like walking into a safe, except there was a waist high table and boxes. The cold stillness of the air meant that no one had come in for several weeks. There was still a box for Alfie. There was a box for Oracle, and even one labeled for Wren, though it had one of her aliases she used on her bills on it. There was a box for Rorschach and a box for Corbinian, and like Luke and Max’s, theirs had their codenames on it rather than their real ones. The boxes were small, lidded, metal, about ten by ten, except for Max’s, which was larger than a hatbox and square.
The room was cold, and Max hugged her arms around herself as she walked into it and began looking at the names. Admittedly, some of them surprised her, and she stopped in front of the one with Luke’s name on it, glancing toward her own but not moving. “Open them?” she asked him, not unwinding her arms from around herself, unable to. “Please,” she added, because it was a lot to ask, and she knew it.
Luke paused in front of Alfie’s box, something like sadness flickering in his gaze before it was gone and he moved on. This probably wasn’t right in the first place but opening the boxes that didn’t belong to either of them seemed even worse, despite his admitted curiosity about what was in them. Luke stopped in front of his own, looked at Max’s, and nodded slowly. “Alright.” He opened Max’s first without taking the time to look at what was inside, but when he opened his own he made no attempt to avoid it.
Luke’s box held four blue jewelry boxes, each of which held a watch. One held a very familiar watch gifted recently at Christmas, which Thomas had obviously put away here for safekeeping. The other three were in various states of disrepair: one wristwatch, one pocketwatch, and one horrible plastic thing from the seventies. The wristwatch was gold and platinum and had stopped a long time ago at 8:56. The pocketwatch was broken, the glass sharp and jagged and the face torn. It was missing the second hand. Both of these had initials engraved on the back: TGB. The plastic one had no markings, except that it was black, ribbed, water-resistant, and well-worn. At the bottom of the box was a yellow envelope with a note from a secretary written on it: “As requested.” These hold prints on archival photo paper of Luke’s official adoption ceremonies. Thomas looks grave and Luke looks awkward, but they are both in the frame. Pushed along the side there is a school notebook, the black and white kind bound with string. It’s very yellowed, and the writing begins rather childish but progresses to a strong, familiar block print. It follows the creation of the Bat, a planning process that began with a big long list of “skils.”
Max’s box has a blue jewelry box too: inside is a diamond necklace that looks like it belonged on the Titanic, and two wedding rings, a man and a woman’s. The simple gold band has the initials TGB inside it, and the woman’s is quite blinding just by the size of the diamond alone. There’s no inscription on it, just a year, obviously the date of the wedding. Under the blue velvet boxes there are photo albums, five of them. Thomas was his mother’s first child and she went a little crazy with the photos, which are neatly set in leather bound books. The last on stops after his eighth birthday. Not all the photos of that event are in place; they’re still tucked loose in the blank pages.
There are no personal notes or financial documents to accompany any of the contents of the boxes. There’s no security or tracking devices on them, and no other labels except for that of the boxes themselves.
The diamond was bigger than anything Max had ever seen, and she had no idea of its worth. She still thought the necklace she wore was only worth a few hundred dollars, and while she could tell this was more expensive, she had no real idea of how much more expensive. And, really, it didn’t fucking matter to her anyway. She clutched the rings in her hand, holding them so tightly that they left impressions in her palm, but she didn’t notice. She didn’t notice, because she’d opened the first photo album and it was all she could to keep from slumping to her knees right there. Still alive, she reminded herself, paging through the albums with shaking fingers and picking up one of the loose photos and holding it in her free hand. She reminded herself to be angry, that she was going to kill him once they found him, but it didn’t do a damn bit of good. She could barely see through the tears, and she didn’t even remember Luke was there until she heard a sound to remind her. She tucked the loose photos into the top album, the smallest one, and she kept it in her hand as she closed the box and turned to look at Luke.
Luke forgot about being angry as soon as he opened the first box and recognized the watch he’d given Thomas for Christmas. The others weren’t as familiar, but he turned each of them over in his hands before reluctantly putting them back in place. The plastic black one made him smile, or at least he thought he might have been smiling except for the fact that it hurt more than it should have. He even forgot about Max when he found the envelope and slid the prints out, staring until the familiar faces became nothing more than blurred images on paper. A sound that resembled a laugh but wasn’t caught in his throat as he tucked the prints and the envelope away, turning his attention to the notebook. He only managed to flip through a few pages before the words became too blurry to read, but he knew what it was all the same. His throat was too tight and he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet, so he put everything back in the box and closed it, keeping his head turned away from Max until he’d regulated his breathing enough to be satisfactory. He’s still alive, he told himself. And I have to find him.
“We should look at the case files now.” He only glanced at her briefly before turning and leaving the room, positioning himself back in front of the computer and giving his name again to access the proper screen. This time he finally clicked on case files folder, which was what he should have done in the first place.
The case files were labeled typically by (initial) victim’s last name, but they were also numbered and cross referenced when it became obvious there were multiple crimes, patterns, or a single suspect. Initially it’s difficult to see which case files he was working on, as there are over thirty open cases and over sixty unsolved archival files. Eventually, however, it becomes clear there are voice logs for almost every case, and it’s possible to order these by date of recording, stringing them across the screen in a long timeline. Voice logs are more common initially than they are now, and they tend to be lengthier in uncertain times, like the initial vigilante meeting, the Mask Killer’s first appearance, and the first concrete evidence of the Night Terror. If it wasn’t obvious before that Thomas almost never sleeps, it is now.
Max had propped her hip on the desk, the photo album and rings still held in her hand as she watched the screen. It made sense to hit the newest log first, and she glanced at Luke’s face, checking for any sign that he didn’t want to go on. She was thinking of what Audrey had said, about Luke being Thomas’ biological child, and she considered mentioning it - but she didn’t know how. “Start with 223,” she said, pointing at the screen. “That gives us the last four things he was working on.” She paused. “Did you know about any of this?” She sure as hell hadn’t, and her expression said as much.
It didn’t register with him that Max was holding a photo album and rings that she hadn’t had before, not when he was too focused on the case files filling up the screen. There were so many open cases, more than he’d even thought Thomas worked on, but it was so typical that he’d take all this on by himself even though more could get accomplished if he worked with someone else. Luke moved the mouse over to 223 silently and clicked, aware that the voice logs were their only hope. By this point there was no outward reaction at all once the audio started up aside from the obvious fact that he was listening intently, ready to catch even the smallest of details; but this one didn’t hold any interest for him. They’d already spent enough time on things that had nothing to do with where Thomas was or what happened to him.
He moved on to the next one without looking up at Max. 226. Still nothing to do with the mask killer, although the mention of Alfie was harder for him to ignore. There was a significantly longer pause after Thomas’ voice faded away but just as before he didn’t let himself hesitate for too long. 227 was different, catching his attention in a way the others hadn’t, and for the first time there was actually something resembling hope in his expression. In addition to the voice log there was a case file on the mask killer, which gave him everything he needed to know - everything Thomas knew, at least - about the man. Luke read the screen multiple times to commit everything to memory, but the most important part was that he finally had a starting point. “This is what I needed,” he told Max after the voice finished speaking, glancing up from the computer screen. He didn’t realize he’d said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’.
The last voice log, 228, was ignored in favor of this new information. He could start at the crime scene and ask around (although ‘ask’ wasn’t quite the right word), and with a little luck it would lead right to Thomas.
Luke was singularly focused, but Max was not. She heard the ‘I’ instead of the ‘we,’ but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she leaned over Luke’s shoulder and played the last voice log, and once it was done playing, she moved back. “Go,” she told Luke, keeping her voice as calm and modulated as she could after the voice logs, which were emotion than anything else. She knew Luke would go chasing the lead from 227, but there was no guarantee it would take him where he needed to go. She knew what grasping at straws felt like, though, and she didn’t voice any doubts. “I’m going to stay here a while longer, try to see if I can trace his last cell call to a tower, triangulate a signal. I’ll let you know what I find,” she said too calmly. She wasn’t going to stay there for long, of course, but she wasn’t going to have Luke sending her home, either. And, admittedly, she wanted a few minutes to herself. “I want status when you get to the scene and leave your GPS on,” she told him, in case he thought he was going to go off the grid himself. She supposed Thomas would have preferred her to ask Luke to stay, to not send him off alone in search of something that had been strong enough to take him down. But that would have been hypocritical, and she knew for fucking certain that Thomas wouldn’t stop looking if it was one of them missing. “Go,” she repeated.
He listened to the last log without really registering what it said, letting all of that slide to the back of his mind along with everything else that didn’t involve finding Thomas. Luke was already moving towards the entrance before Max told him to go, his mind ten steps ahead of where he currently was with no plans of stopping. “Don’t go out looking for him yourself,” he said over his shoulder, regaining enough focus to actually sound firm. “Try to triangulate a symbol, see if Oracle’s up to finding anything, and let the others know finding the Bat is top priority.” It was dangerous enough for him to be out there with the risk of running into the mask killer, never mind her and the baby. “Keep in touch. I’ll do the same.” He was in the elevator by the time he’d finished speaking, and he managed to get out a quick “Be careful” before it began to descend and he vanished from sight.