>>6287125>>6287126>>6287145>>6287183"Look, this is something better done face to face... but being honest I don't know you that well. Could I maybe bring someone along with me?"
A scoff mixed with a chuckle cuts you off.
"You've met Batman right? You really think that's a good idea?"
"Well, I figure it would be fine since my friend.. he's a League member. Another detective, even. Three brains are better than two and all..." You trail off.
"Eh... what's the name."
"The Question..." You half mumble.
You hear again the clacking of keys and a light beep.
"Huh, yeah he's on the files. I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a familiar face.."
You feel the corner of your mouth twitch at that but suppress it.
"So we're good?"
"Good as we can be, I'll send you the coordinates and pick you up. Then we go to the cave and-"
"The cave? Like, the BAT-Cave? That's real!?"
"Very." He says, you can hear the smile. "I didn't believe it either. But it's even cooler than you think."
"Damn... I'm getting black bagged and taken to the Bat-Cave." Your stress and anxiety melt away for a brief moment as your inner child lets loose a great grin. "Hell yeah."
Nightwing's laughter comes clear through the phone, but you can feel how friendly it is, not a trace of mockery.
"You have no idea, pal. I'll meet you in an hour. Sending you the coordinates now."
Your phone blips and you open the message to see a familiar set of numbers.
"I've already been here, this is the crossroads right outside town."
"Good, then you won't get lost. One hour."
The line dies and you hook the phone up as the knot in your gut loosens just a bit. The Batcave... holy shit.
====
You sip at the energy drink as you lay reclined in your car, eyes on the night sky as you try to fight off the setting fatigue from earlier. You lift the can and catch site of headlights down the road. As you sit up to take a look they suddenly cut off and you watch as the car drops in speed, slowing down to a roll as it pulls into the grass nearby until it comes to a stop behind a small patch of trees. You shake your head and grin as you finish the last dregs of your drink and step out of your car.
"Q?" You call out. "What're you doing, man? Nobody is out here."
A car door closing and the gentle scuffing of loafers on gravel approach as from between the trees Question emerges with his trench coat catching on branches and some overgrowth. He nonchalantly tugs it free before stepping into the street, craning his head letting his non-existent eyes scan the area.
"You can never be too careful, detective." He says in his usual monotone. "Well. You could."
"I didn't see the need considering we're in the middle of a dirt road, Q."
"You never know who can be listening, Detective. Did you know the US military invested five billion dollars into a project to create an orbital shotgun microphone? Code named: Project Ishmael."
"Is this another theory like the fluoride radiation stuff? Or do you have any proof?"
