Chapter Text
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking to a Terry McGinnis?” a gravelly, static-cloaked voice asked through the speaker.
Terry raised an eyebrow. “Depends. Who are you, and what exactly d’you want?”
The voice crackled. Was the connection spotty? “Just making sure I have the right Batman.”
Terry's blood ran cold. “Uhhh. I'm sorry?”
“Take a breath, kid, I ain't no narc,” said the stranger. “And I ain't reachin’ out to you to threaten or scare or anythin’ like that. I'd like to talk.”
“Look, I don't know what you want, but I think you've got the wrong num-”
“Would you rather I talk to your mom? Meet your little brother while I wait for you to get home?”
Oooh, that was a thinly veiled threat. Shit. Okay, evidently, there was no point in trying to play dumb. “You can talk from here,” he hissed. “How the hell do you know who I am?”
The stranger chuckled, and something about his tone sent irritation as well as fear rushing through Terry's veins. “Oh, I know lots of things,” he drawled. “Lots of things. I know that you spent three months in juvie. I know that a corporate scumbag killed your father, and I know that you killed the Joker.”
The stranger's voice got lower and scarier over the course of the last sentence, but Terry couldn't help but protest. “I didn't kill anybody! He- He was already dead, that was just a copy!”
“Ugh, God, you really are Batman,” the man groaned. “Y'think it don't count as murder if the vic's already been dead? That's like sayin' y'didn’t strangle somebody t'death if someone else revives 'em with CPR.”
Terry paused. That- Huh. “I…”
“Look, I ain't here to argue ethics with ya, kid,” the stranger interrupted. “I'm reachin' out 'cuz I wanna make an offer.”
“Yeah, that's not foreboding or anything,” Terry snarked, ignoring the curl of anxiety in his gut. Also, thr guy had gone from a Midtown accent to a Northern Gotham accent, maybe in an effort to throw Terry off, which added to his worry. “Always love it when anonymous strangers offer me ambiguous deals.”
A laugh. “Pick a time and place, Batman,” the stranger told him. “I'm willing to discuss proper details with you, but not over the phone. And, as long as you don't inform Bruce, you could even invite somebody. Hand to my heart, I swear on my own grave, I shan't hurt you or anyone you bring along unless they or you try to kill me. You could even bring your girlfriend, should you feel so inclined. I don't hurt civilians, if I can help it.”
Terry frowned. Crap, he knew about Dana, too. Was he part of one of the Joker gangs? What did he have against Bruce? And when did he turn British? “Why should I do anything you want? This sounds a heck of a lot like a trap.”
“You may just need to take me and my kind offer at face value, young one.”
“Um, again, why would I do that?”
“You don't know my name, I've switched accents three times, and because this is a burner phone and I'm outside the city, you have no way to track me. None of Bruce's little protégés have ever been able to turn down a treasure hunt, and if you want to solve the mystery I've provided you with, you might have to put on your big boy pants and step outside your comfort zone.”
What? Who was this guy?
He sounded… vaguely condescending, but less like an egotistical bad guy and more like an adult talking down to a small child. That wasn't really much better, but…
“What makes you so sure I won't just invite Bruce?”
“Because I'll know if you tell him,” the man said simply, “and then I won't show up.”
Wow, he was creepy. “How?”
“What, how would I know? You do remember me saying I know that you're Batman, right, McGinnis? I'm no Oracle, but I'm not incompetent either.”
What the hell did fortune telling have to do with this?? Terry scowled. What a jerk. “I'm hanging up now.”
“Uh-huh. See you soon.”