Re: 12:51 AM; BASEMENT
The Bat had crossed his arms over his chest and he was standing about as solid as the pillar two inches from his left elbow. You had to stare at him for quite a long time to even figure out that he was breathing, because he was positioned so none of the light caught the movement of his eyes as they flicked from one to the other. The girl in the hood was the only one he didn't recognize so far. She wasn't in a mask, which he found interesting.
"Any communication is complicated," was his contribution. Mister Sunshine. Mister Positive. Mister Team Spirit. "A second network with only certain people on it. How will you keep it secure, and how do you decide who has the privilege to call for help?" The Bat would officially bleed to death before calling the Corbinian or Rorschach for help. It was like calling in an air strike in a civilian war zone. He couldn't account for the collateral damage.