Profession

The database

Just before dinner, I'd found a couple potential ways into the mystery system and eliminated two of them as traps for the unwary. Jon, Clark, and Grandpa B had gone up to the Watchtower to start the planning . I was glad to see them gone; the sooner they took down the Injustice League, the sooner my husband would be back home with me. The public opinion of the Justice League would rise too, not an inconsiderable benefit. Heroes seemed to be on the wrong end of public frustration with the supervillains a lot, which was unfair. If not for our heroes, who'd take care of the villains? You have to have somebody in their weight class to bring them down. Why weren't they blaming the villains? It was just Grandpa D and me; Grandma Alex had gone out on an errand for Alfred, and Alfred and John were starting dinner. They'd puttered around my house and I guess Alfred had made a number of suggestions that were sure to be wonderful when I heard about them. I'd thank him later.

"I remember that you did very well in your computer classes in high school, Buttercup," Grandpa said to me as I investigated; he was taking over intelligence gathering in the material world. "But I'm surprised at your level of skill. Not that your competency is to be questioned, you're just at a much higher level than I expected."

I made a noncommittal noise. "When I was disabled, between exposure to the fear toxin and getting healed in Asgard, I had time to learn a bunch of stuff."

"It's interesting to me that you use remote safety servers. That's an old trick of Oracle," he said blandly.

"Oh, really?" I asked, attention mostly on my work--a slip up here would alert the owner of the system--but wanting to grin at the game Grandpa was playing.

"Yep. Some of the things you do remind me of the way Oracle would address a request for information." I looked at him and smiled slightly.

"Well, in the end there's only so many ways of doing things successfully. It's an honor to be compared to Oracle." He smiled back, then it faded.

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you learned who Oracle was along the way and got in contact. But what's really interesting is that this is obviously not your first rodeo."

"I have no comment about Oracle," I said primly, and he grinned briefly. "But you're right, this isn't the first time I've collected intelligence for an op. And yes, Grandpa, I am always careful. And no, it wasn't for the Titans, I didn't want to get mixed up with those kids."

"They weren't the most highly organized heroes around," he agreed. "I don't suppose that this had anything to do with your contact who can make bugs that look exactly like natural cockroaches and the fact that somebody led the police by the hand to several of the villains in Batman's rogue's gallery."

I took some time tapping at the keys before answering. "My work was confidential," I said. "But through the years I've met some very interesting people." He patted my hand and was about to speak, but the door opened and Grandma and the Uncles came in with lots of bags, chattering animatedly. Grandpa and I silently observed the trophies from the successful hunt. Grandma bustled into the kitchen with a small bag from the grocers, and Uncles Bucky and Steve set four very large bags on the table.

"There's a great new yarn store open about a kilometer west of here, Lys," Uncle Bucky said, poking through the bags. He found several cakes of pretty spring green yarn and handed one to me. It was soft and warm. "I got enough for a good sized blanket, some socks, and a cap. There's a pattern in here somewhere, and needles, a few odds and ends, stitch markers, a stitch counter, tape measure."

"It's so nice, Uncle Bucky," I said. "Diana will love it." He smiled and brought out more yarn, this time in a rich amethyst.

"I thought you might want to make something for your friend as well, a shawl. Sometimes it's a little chilly when you get up at night for a feeding. Got a pattern for that too, along with the right size needles."