𝕊𝕆𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔸𝔾𝔸ℕ𝕋║[ᴅ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ]

ᴇxᴜʟᴀɴꜱɪꜱ

"Pennyworth knows."

"Grandmama knows."

"Will she tell?"

"She's more likely to give family recipes out of the goodness of her heart. How about Pennyworth?"

"He would sooner resign."

"Alright then."

"Tch."

Vin adjusted his shoulder holsters, slipping his extra bullets, weapons, and the snack his nonna had made with methodical speed. He had done this ritual many times before: tightening the buckles to fit snuggly against his shoulder blades and thighs, filling the chambers of his guns, sharpening his backup knife, tying the laces of his boots, and checking his voice modulator was working. The last step was slipping his mask over his face and running diagnostics on the night vision and scanner for his nightly excursion across the city.

It was Friday, and no school tomorrow, so his grandfather had afforded him a laundry list of things to accomplish before the sun rose to greet Saturday. He was up until the morning hours most nights but always had more to do on the weekends since he could sleep in the next day. The heir slipped on his protective jacket, glancing at the clock on his wall as he left his room. He didn't have a predetermined schedule since he was heading out solo but had made it a habit to leave the house before nine o'clock. Unlike school, he took his professional job seriously and aimed to be as efficient as possible.

He slipped out the secret side entrance of their estate and clicked a small button on his comm to bring up a list of his grandfather's to-dos. His grandfather wanted him to look more into the Tricorner, specifically around the area where the infamous Iceberg Lounge resided. Guess he wants to keep an eye on their bespoke, Penguiny informant and stitch his loose lips shut if necessary.

Reading through the brief sent to him by Leo's second in command, Sai-Yun, he also discovered footage of Mr. Freeze, Riddler, and King Shark entering the trendy nightclub at different times. Maybe to avoid drawing attention with a tank-like suit, flashy outfit, or being a seven-foot-two oceanic species walking on dry land.

Vin huffed, closed the comm, and started a tracking route to the Lounge. He needed to create a case file on the goings between Superiority Complex, Elsa, Whiz-kid, and Triangle Teeth. Tracking their conversation through radio frequencies would be one of his top priorities as he completed his other nocturnal chores.

It is always easier to say than to do, his Grandmother would say.

Ah well, time to get started.

Vin had been staking out the four supervillains from the blackjack tables, careful to keep his head pointed to his cards while his eyes fixated on the meeting happening only across the room. His mask would keep the object of his interest a secret, but he would need to stay wary of the menagerie of unsavory characters around him. He thought Cobblepot would have banned him from his poncey little hangout after the beating he granted him at their last meetup. Who lets a teenager into a nightclub, anyway?

Only somewhere with the shadiest of dealings, of course.

(His improv needed some work, sue him.)

Penguin had removed his cigar from between his rows of yellowed teeth and snuffed it out on a diamond ashtray with that damnable smirk on his broad face. Vin feigned scratching his head while turning up his mask's receiver range and focusing on the direction of the crime lord's table. He had to adjust the frequency slightly before the buzzing, glitchy voices became legible.

"...ou... sure we shou... e talking about this in the open?" The Riddler's permanent know-it-all voice came. Honestly, fuck that guy and stuff him in a locker with sweaty socks, the unbearable nerd.