Who: The Bat What: Small narrative. Where: Selina's Cat Cave. When: Recentish. Warnings/Rating: Noone.
With his tracking device still very much active and transmitting data, locating the stolen money was all too easy.
Initially, the Bat only observed, just long enough to ensure Selina wouldn't be there when he made his move without risking the money already being gone or otherwise distributed. His intentions were to retrieve the cash and return it, yes, but not necessarily for the reasons one might assume or through methods expected of him. Despite what others believed, he was not strictly black and white. He understood the gray, even if he did not live within it to the degree that Selina did. The boys who took refuge in the house the device had led him to reminded him of those he'd encountered long ago, while traveling the world in order to understand the criminal mind, and despite the fact that, in a legal sense, they had broken the law, the Bat recognized that the law and what was right did not always go hand in hand.
He did not stand for the law, the Bat. No, he represented what was right, and sometimes--especially in a city like Gotham, there corruption often thrived in positions of power--that put him in direct opposition to the law. In fact, it did more often than not.
And so, he hadn't come this deep into Crime Alley to bring the GCPD in his wake, or to drag anyone down to their headquarters all tied up in a nice little bow. (None of the boys, at least.) He had a plan, of sorts. The police were looking for the stolen money, and while they might never manage to track it down, the bank wanted back what had been in that vault. No one would starve because it was gone, no one would lose their homes, or even their lives, but those with an abundance of wealth were still eternally loathe to lose even a penny of it. That money was a risk, a liability, and even if it was one Selina and her little clan thought they could handle, the Bat didn't necessarily agree.
For whatever reason, it seemed even the most desperate left this particular house alone, and he made his move when night had fallen, and it was quiet. Too quiet, but it always was now, in the aftermath of the plague. The Bat entered from above and moved like a silent shadow, but stealth would only last him so long, he knew, and he made his presence known in the room just before the tracking device began to emit a series of sharp beeps.
There were about half a dozen boys present, likely more to return shortly. The bag, money and all, was on the coffee table, and the initial reaction to both sound and the Bat's arrival was panic. Then the older ones took charge, their postures clearing indicating hostility, though they must have known that he could have taken them all out in under a minute if he so desired. It would be simple.
But he remained still and silent, watching, his dark gaze passing from one boy to the next before it settled on the bag of money. He took a step forward, just one, then another, and the boys retreated on instinct before holding their ground.
"I'm not going to hurt any of you." His voice was all guttural growl and no emotion. "I'm not here to arrest you either. You know I'm not one of them." The boys exchanged glances, unspoken wariness coupled with suspicion, but the Bat had expected no less.
"So why are you here?" One of the braver ones spoke up, eyes narrowed.
From beneath his cape, the Bat withdrew an identical bag, filled with the same amount of money sitting on that very table, still merrily beep-beep-beeping away. "These bill are unmarked. Untraceable. Unlike the ones you currently possess. The same amount, no more, no less."
There was a pause. Suspicion mingled with confusion now, but still, the Bat was patient. "Count it yourselves, if you wish. I'll wait." Without warning he tossed the bag into their midst, and it was caught, inspected, and opened. Minutes passed as the boys took him up on his offer and counted; once, then twice, and while he hadn't wanted to be here for this long, he did not rush them, nor did he make any move towards the bag he'd come for.
In the end, the boys seemed satisfied, albeit reluctantly so, and they still eyed him with apprehension and something akin to fear as he approached and took the cash-filled bag, finally silencing the tracking device. He could tell they wanted to ask why, how he'd gotten the second bag of money, but none spoke up, and even if they had, he wouldn't have answered. Not how, at least. That was his business and his alone.
"Why?" That particular question was finally asked as the Bat prepared to leave. He turned, regarded them, and when he spoke there was a hint of something like anger in his voice.
"People are suffering, and the police waste time and resources on wealth easily replaced. I have no intention of making it easier for them to turn their backs on those who need them most." The Bat paused. "Tell no one I was here. No one. Do you understand?"
He only waited until they nodded, all of them, before slipping out one of the windows and disappearing into the night.