Faye Feng → Dick Grayson ✔

Fairy

Batman checked in at midnight.

"Robin, Batgirl, come in."

"I hear you."

He shook his head at the owner of the Royal Palace, who had given him a questioning look. "Sorry, Mr. Lee. Not talking to you."

"I'm here, Batman," Barbara said. "Robin, are you getting takeout?"

A look of understanding crossed Mr. Lee's face as Robin gestured to his ear comm. The Boy Wonder grabbed the plastic carton from the man and smiled thankfully. "I couldn't refuse free food, especially not when it's xiagao."

"Bless you."

"It's shrimp dumpling. Faye made me try it and it's the best thing I've ever had."

Robin realized his mistake of bringing her up no sooner than her name had left his mouth. Sure enough, he could somehow feel Barbara bristle through his ear. For once, Batman put an end to the awkwardness instead of creating it.

"What did you find?"

"Well, we were right," Robin said, crossing his legs on the edge of a neighboring rooftop. "The Fengs own the Royal Palace. About two months before they moved to the city, they contacted the owner – Richard Lee – and offered him a way out of bankruptcy."

"How did Mr. Lee seem?"

"He likes me, I can tell you that."

Barbara snorted. "Why else would he give you dumplings?"

"He likes the Fengs even more," Robin ignored her. "They swing by every now and then, sometimes with guests, sometimes without. The last time they were here with someone was about last month, then I think they got busy with the party."

"Do we have a description?"

Robin shook his head, despite Batman not being able to see him. "No. They pay Mr. Lee too much for him to even think about telling me, and the staff are just as tight-lipped."

"Batgirl, is there any log on Feng Corps's database?"

"Yeah, nothing stands out. I think the Fengs have given most – if not, every – Gotham employee the same treatment they gave Lydia Whitegate, and most of these employees are people like her anyway."

"Charitable." Robin commented.

"Unless they're blinding people with money to use them for less than charitable purposes." Batman said gruffly. "Anything else?"

"I found my way into Sandra Feng's calendar," Barbara said. "Her personal assistant compiles her day for her, but they're all coded."

"Coded?"

"At one p.m. this coming Wednesday, Sandra Feng is apparently going to one-eight-hundred-N-eight-three-X-P-two."

"Did you have a stroke?" Robin said through a mouthful of dumpling.

"Point taken, Batgirl. How long do you think it'll take for you to decode her schedule?"

"I'd say a day before we can start having stake-outs according to her appointments."

"Good."

"What about you, Batman? Where did Lydia go?"

No answer came. Robin frowned.

"Bats? Hello?"

"It's Deathstroke!" A gruff snarl responded. "He's running! Intercept him!"

Robin leapt off the roof before Batman had finished, dumplings forgotten on a building that was already blocks away. A blinking black dot – his mentor's live location – came into view, moving rapidly across squares and rectangles of light blue.