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Chapter 15 - What Tim Found

Tim Drake yawned, his eyes grainy and heavy-lidded beneath the black Robin mask. He had a history paper due in the morning, which meant that after patrol he�d be pulling an all-nighter on the War of 1812.

�Stupid Canadians,� he muttered, trying to mentally assemble the structure of his essay. The night had been quiet. The Oracomm channels had been dead for hours and the only other vigilante patrolling was Cassie, who wasn�t exactly a great conversationalist. She�d taken off early anyway, forsaking patrol for her own Fortress of Solitude, a satellite cave near Gotham Light and Power.

Tim was finishing his normal route north through the city towards the RKM Bridge. He passed quietly into the hunting grounds of Old Gotham, Crime Alley and the Bowery. At a little past four in the morning, Tim�s police-band setting in his earpiece picked up reports of a domestic disturbance. Given the nature of the report (unreliable) and the neighborhood (Crime Alley) a black-and-white wouldn�t be sent out until there was a body count. Tim quickly found the source of the complaint: an abandoned tenement just off Sprang Street. He thought the call had been a mistake until his night vision registered movement in one of the upper windows of the building. Finding a rooftop access point, Tim went in carefully, feeling for danger.

The building was clearly inhabited, despite outward appearances. The whole top floor was tastefully decorated and expensive electronic equipment occupied an entertainment tower in the living room. He could faintly smell cat food and there was calico hair on one of the Banana Republic sofas lining the south wall. The apartment was cozy, a little messy but otherwise more comfortable than one would expect in this kind of neighborhood. Tim worked his way through the rest of the apartment methodically, learning as much as he could about the occupants from their personal effects. The rest of the building was quiet and Tim began to believe this was a waste of time. A loud thump from what he guessed was a bedroom drew him down the hall. A gasp of pain made him hesitate at the door until he saw there was blood on the carpet leading into the bedroom.

�Damn you,� someone hissed and Tim pushed the bedroom door open. To his shock, in the midst of a destroyed bedroom among the splinters of reduced-to-kindling furniture, Helena Bertinelli stood over an injured woman slumped in the corner of the room.

�Huntress?� Tim asked in disbelief. Helena had drawn her crossbow and she�d already fired two bolts into the woman in the corner. Huntress� nose dripped blood and one eye was beginning to swell shut. Whatever had happened between the two woman, it had been a hell of a fight.

The woman in the corner moaned softly and Tim�s eyes widened in shock. She was bleeding heavily from where a bolt had pierced her chest. Another had lodged itself in her thigh, snapping the bone. She was tall, slender and athletic-looking with short black hair. There was something familiar about her, but Tim didn�t have the time to search his memory for the woman�s identity.

�What happened?� he exclaimed, moving forward to stop the woman�s bleeding. The shot to her upper body had become fatal. With each heartbeat, more of the woman�s blood coursed out onto the floor.

Helena extended her arm, halting Tim. There was a strange, cold light in her eyes and she lowered the crossbow. �Omerta,� she whispered, leaning forward to spit on the dying woman. Tim pushed past Helena�s restraining arm to kneel over the woman, already unpacking the medkit he carried in his utility belt.

�Who is she?� Tim asked, trying not to look at Helena. Right now, she terrified him. Huntress lowered the crossbow.

�The scum of the earth,� she replied, heading for the window. Tim struggled with the woman�s dead weight as he checked beneath her to determine how far the first bolt had penetrated her chest.

�Wait!� he cried out. �Are you hurt? What happened?�

The Huntress was gone.

Tim paused, considering. The woman moaned again and he shook his head. He decided to contact Oracle rather than the Gotham PD. Barbara�s voice came over the channel sounding hassled and distracted.

�Oracle,� she barked to identify herself on the channel. �Tim, this better be good. Now�s not exactly the best time. The JLA have a crisis on their hands and-�

Tim kept tight control over his voice, panicking a little as the woman�s life ebbed away in a tide of red. �I need a medical response unit to West Sprang 107, top floor of building.�

�What?� Barbara repeated anxiously. He�d definitely gotten her attention. �Tim, where are you?�

�I just walked in on Huntress. Some major-league fight went down and she shot someone with two of those huge arrows of hers,� he reported, trying for some of Dick�s levity. His voice was shaking too much. �Do you know if she�s still using drugged bolts? Because this woman�s fading fast - some kind of anti-coagulant, I think. I need help.�

�Stay with her,� Barbara advised. �Blue Bird is in the area, closing fast.�

Tim breathed a sigh of relief. Dick. Dick was coming. �You�re not sending in the cavalry?�

The Oracom lined hummed. �The GCPD can�t get involved in this, Tim. Do you know whose apartment you�re in?�

Tim looked around, searching for a clue. �Nu-uh.�

�Selina Kyle�s.�

Tim checked the woman�s face again, her features pale from loss of blood. �Catwoman? I thought she was dead.�

Oracle was silent again. �Hold tight, Tim. Dick�ll be there soon and you two will get her stable. Bring her to base.�

�Why the main cave?� Tim asked, curious. �Haven�t the police been looking for her for over a year?�

�There�s a lot to explain,� Oracle replied. �Just wait for Dick. Leslie will meet you.�