What's a Black Bird without her Robin?
Black Birds run in the family. Dick had Grace. Jason had Estella. Tim had Rachel. Damian had Lorri.
He was obnoxious and rude. Made himself at home. Imposed on the delicate life you and Bruce had composed. And...
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"I've half a mind to report you both for grand theft auto." Batman hissed.
Damian sneered, pumping the gas. "I'd like to hear that call. 'Hello, police? My children stole the Batmobile.'"
"I at least thought you were above this, Lorri."
"Damian had a very.." you paused, turning to him. "..enticing persuasion method."
Damian smirked at you, swerving the car into an alleyway and parking. You both jumped out of the car and into the snow.
"You two find the amusing?"
"Kinda." You replied, making your way through the snow.
"I called and told you to meet up with us here, didn't I?" Damian asked, leading you.
"What does a town that was wiped out by floods three years ago have to do with the children that have gone missing in Gotham?"
You made your way to Schott's Toys, and it was a creepy abandoned wear house if you had ever seen one. You shivered.
"Maybe nothing." Damian began. "But, I find it a little odd that every one of them owned toys made here."
Both you and Damian slipped through the wooden fence, and towards a window.
"You could have shared the information a little sooner."
"An alternate response might be 'Good work, Robin.' But I guess I expect too much."
You snickered.
"I'm still a mile out. Lorri, don't let Damian do anything till I get there."
You smiled. "No promises."
With that, you both broke through a window and made your way into the wearhouse. Damian pulled out a flashlight, and you did the same, pulling your hood off your head, allowing your ponytail to fall around your shoulders.
Dolls without faces hung from the dark ceiling, and clattering noises were made from afar. Both you and Robin made your way through the warehouse.
Robin shined his flashlight on a small shoe.
"Oh, no." You whispered, picking it up.
You drew the line at hostages, but children were a whole other story.
"Remember, Robin. Justice-"
"Not vengeance." He finished.
You heard a noise. "Up there." You pointed your flashlight to a door.
It was heavy, both you and Robin had to push it open.
"The original owner of the place was a man named Winslow Schott." Robin began.
"A psychopathic killer." You added.
Robin flicked on some lights, reavealing blood splattered cloths and tables.
