The Newest Wayne [COMPLETED]

Chapter 4~ A day out gone wrong

I had recently taken on the mantle of batgirl by this point. Bruce, Damian, and I got back from a somewhat quiet patrol on a cold night in Gotham City. The sun seemed to be hiding behind the grey curtain of the sky, with no light coming through the windows. When we were in the batcave, I took off my cowl, and Damian slid his mask off. Dick had his own patrol route, and I was sure that Tim was already working on a case somewhere in the house. 

Alfred greeted us nonchalantly, as if we were coming home from a trip to the grocery store instead of a night's worth of beating up criminals, before flicking the light on. I could hear the hum of the technology around us as Bruce fired up the batcomputer. 

"Father, what is that?" Damian tilted his head. 

Bruce sat down in the chair in front of the computer, staring up at the large screen. I got closer to him, then hesitated. He waved a hand at me, beckoning me closer. I made my way up to him, standing at his side. 

"Consider this a test," he said plainly, "no consequence if you fail this, but it's worth thinking about. This man," he pulled up a picture of a middle-aged guy with green eyes and graying brown hair, smiling, "was found dead in an alleyway. The G.P.D. were able to determine which window he fell from. Now the question: murder or suicide?" 

He was trying to force us to think outside the box, I could just feel it. I squinted as I tried to read the small text at the bottom of the photo, seemingly taken from some sort of news article. It read: College Professor found dead after falling from a closed window. 

"The window was closed," I pursed my lips, talking more to myself than Bruce or Damian, "how could he have closed the window if it were a suicide? I mean, assisted suicide, maybe, but this isn't something he did alone." 

Damian's head whipped around, he stared at me wide-eyed for a few moments. My heart skipped a beat. I looked stupid, didn't I? The answer was probably wrong. I clamped a hand over my mouth, face red. 

"Assisted suicide," Bruce repeated, his eyes narrowing in thought, "good thinking, Avery." He smiled to himself. 

"Good thinking 'bout what?" I heard Dick's voice from behind me as he chucked his mask into some far corner of the room.

"Master Richard," Alfred groaned, "please pick that up." 

"Yeah, yeah." Dick made his way over to the emptier part of the room to grab the mask he had flung. "Now, what's going on?"

"I was asking them to help me with a case and Avery," he turned to me, spinning his chair around to look at both me and Dick, "has a surprisingly good eye." 

"Or a good mind," Damian added, "Carter is a scholarship student." 

Tim and Cassandra came out of seemingly nowhere. Tim had a look on his face that made me wonder if he was proud of me or if he was just plain exhausted. Cassandra, on the other hand, had a more gentle look in her eyes. 

"You never told me that." Tim made a vague motion with his arms and started to walk in the direction of the kitchen. However, Alfred had blocked his path, muttering something about caffeine intake. Tim seemed to get the message pretty quickly and turned his attention back to the rest of us. 

"Can someone please fill me in!?" Dick pleaded.

Cassandra leaned against the wall. "Well...?" 

"The death of Elijah Howard, the one who fell from the window," Bruce said, "Avery suggested that it may have been an assisted suicide." 

There was a brief paused, Bruce let out a deep sigh before telling us, pretty aggressively, to go to sleep. We all knew Tim wouldn't, but at least Bruce was trying.