Two Sides of the Same Coin | Young Justice

Chapter Twenty Seven | The Game

I PULLED THE TRIGGER of my grappling gun and my feet were pulled off of the ground, swinging across the street until I landed safely on the roof of a building. I retracted the line, tucking it back at my side. I took in the Gotham skyline in front of me. The tall buildings of the upper district rose into the moonlit smog, with the slums barely visible out of the corner of my eye. Car horns blared faintly from all sides and I sighed, hopping from one roof to the next.

I didn't have a lot of nights like these anymore— where I could just weave in and out of streets and alleyways, finding trouble as I went. Or, more often than not, trouble finds me. These days, my time was taken up by training sessions and crime-stopping and a whole lot of bat-themed merchandise. How pathetic.

I did a front flip to the next rooftop, landing gracefully on the edge and walking along it, arms out at my sides for balance.

Is it a little weird to any of you? The way Bats treats me, I mean. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why he goes along with me sometimes. I've seen how he "tolerates" people, which is pretty much just him not staring someone to death while assigning them a mission. He tolerates Barry. He tolerates Oliver. He tolerates the rest of the team. It's not like he particularly goes out of his way for any of them... so why does he seem to go out of his way for me?

Probably because he thinks I'm dangerous. That he can't trust me, and that I have to be monitored at all times. He's paranoid like that. But... then why would he give me his cape yesterday? There's really no other motive behind that, besides... I don't know... being nice.

I shook my head. No. You know what it is? A false sense of security. He's trying to get me to trust him, so he doesn't have to watch me 24/7. He's trying to turn me into a Robin— into the rest of the League— who blindly follow him just because he has a scary voice and a good plan.

Well, let me be the first to tell you that it's not going to work. He's a big asshole, and no matter how nice the beds in his house are, or how great Alfred's food is, or how cool his jet is, I don't trust him for a second. I can only rely on myself, just like I always have.

"Your observational skills are a little lacking, Bri."

I whipped around at the sudden voice behind me, my gun immediately in my hands. In the dim moonlight, I could make out a figure leaning on an electrical box, staring directly at me.

"Whoever the hell you are, if you don't show yourself in the next three seconds, your head's about to be splattered all over the concrete," I snarled, pushing the gun forward.

"I don't doubt it." The voice was feminine and strangely familiar.

"One," I growled.

"Oh please, Brielle—"

"Two."

"—give your mother a break, will you?"

"What?"

I couldn't help the way my gun slightly dropped at the word. Mother? There's no way— yeah right. The crack addicts in this city are starting to get bold. I rolled my eyes, locking my gun on her once again. "What the hell are you on, lady? Because whatever it is, I'd like a little bit, if it makes you that delirious—"

She stepped forward and into my view. I took a sharp breath in, immediately recognizing her. It's the lady who's been following me around for the last few weeks— the one in my dreams and the one in the mirror at the club. I didn't have time to process any of the emotions running wild in my body before she spoke.

"You might as well put it down." She gave me an amused look. "The bullet won't touch me, anyway."

I squared my jaw. "Like hell it won't."