Chapter Text
Tim’s ankles ached from his crouched position on the rooftop opposite Gotham City Bank, waiting. He’d been there for hours, but still no sign of the Bats. After the months he’d spent noting their patterns and listening in on their conversations, he’d been sure he’d deduced the location and night of their next heist, but he must have gone wrong somewhere. He rubbed his fingers along the edges of his camera, the cold Gotham night pricking at his skin. If they didn’t arrive soon, he’d have to leave and re-think his notes, but no, they had to be here. A special item was being kept secure in the bank before being transferred to another location. Supposedly, it was a piece of super rare and expensive tech, but the city was keeping hush about it for the most part. Tim had kept track of the guards’ schedules, as well as police routes in the area, and this was the optimal night to break in, he was sure. Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, and Robin were all supposed to be involved in this one, and it was rare for so many Bats to be in the field on a single job. Or, it would have been. Tim tried to shrug off the disappointment. Maybe he could try again tomorrow night.
A wire line shot out from the building adjacent to the bank. Tim lifted his camera, taking a picture just as two figures skated across the wire. He grinned. So he hadn’t been wrong.
From their silhouettes, it must have been Nightwing and Robin. Tim squinted his eyes, searching for the other two figures. Batgirl was usually the trickiest to capture. She slinked into the shadows as if she were made of them herself, and Tim wasn’t so sure she wasn’t. Photographs of her were rare, but always turned out the most badass of the bunch. He scooted forward eagerly, holding up the camera just in time to catch a movement in the alleyway next to the bank. He snapped the picture, unsure if he caught anything, but he’d be sure to check later. It wasn’t unusual for him to miss something the night of the stakeout, only to later realize he’d gotten a great photo of a person or event he’d missed.
Once, he’d gotten a picture of Red Hood chucking Robin at an opponent. The sheer horror on the youngest Bat’s face was enough comedy-fuel to last Tim weeks. Sometimes, he still went back to the image to remind himself that Robin had other expressions beyond his trademark scowl.
Bats himself should be here, too, according to some of his eavesdropping. He might’ve been the movement Tim had seen in the shadows, or he could’ve been on the other side of the building. There was also the chance that he was just supervising on a rooftop somewhere. A shiver ran up Tim’s spine when he realized that meant he could be on the same rooftop as him. He glanced around, but didn’t see anyone.
Tim returned to observing the bank, but it was as still as it had been before the Bats had arrived. If everything went well, he wouldn’t see anything else interesting until they left with whatever it was they were stealing, probably about 20 minutes from now.
Ugh, Tim wished he could get inside. The only time he truly got to see any of the action was when the Bats pulled a stunt on the streets or in one of the numerous Gotham warehouses that were surprisingly easy to get into. While he waited, Tim zoomed the camera lens in and out on a security guard who kept circling the building, hands in his pockets. Since the guy hadn’t picked up his radio and run off in a panic yet, Tim assumed the heist was going well, and he’d see the Bats exit shortly.
As if they’d read his mind, a few figures darted over the rooftops, away from the bank in opposite directions. Tim reacted quickly, taking a couple snapshots of the closest figures before returning his attention to the bank.
No police sirens yet, but he’d better scat before they realized they’d been robbed. He carefully placed his camera in his bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder and climbing down off the roof through the fire escape. Tim walked the first couple of blocks, hoping not to draw attention, before hopping on his skateboard.
He returned to an empty house. Heh, empty mansion. Seemed a stupid thing to complain about. The long, dark hallways and creaky floorboards might have unnerved someone else if they were without company, but Tim was used to it.
Tim collapsed in bed, lifting his camera over his head and clicking through the images. Most of the photos were blurry this time, but that was expected considering the stealthy nature of the job. If he wanted some good action shots, he could always follow up on the sort of work Red Hood had been doing. Unlike the other Bats, Red Hood had branched out beyond the “sophisticated” heists, going for protection rackets and taxing local criminals, though beating the shit out of random people seemed to be his main job description.
He clicked to the next photo. It had been Batgirl in the shadows. Tim noticed the familiar shape he hadn’t seen when he’d snapped the picture. The figures he’d seen leaving were Nightwing and Robin. Zooming in, he noticed a small object in Nightwing’s hand, and he wondered if it was their prize, or just a tool to achieve it. Tim didn’t recognize it, but that didn’t mean much. Wayne Enterprises came up with some pretty neat stuff, and the stuff they kept out of the public eye tended to be the coolest.
Tim tried to imagine how they’d pulled off the theft. Cool gadgets? Most definitely. He’d seen the grappling hooks, smoke bombs, and tasers, amongst other weapons. Maybe they’d used radio jammers, and that was why the front security guard never heard anything from inside. But how’d they get through security without even a hint of attention? He leapt from his bed and grabbed a pen and sheet of paper from his desk. Hmm, if he wanted to steal from the city bank, he’d…
He sketched out his own idea of how he’d accomplish it. It was a much cruder idea than what he assumed actually went down tonight, and it was a little difficult considering he didn’t really know the schematics of the bank beyond the lobby, but he felt a small thrill every time he found a solution to a barrier to getting in and out undetected.
No wonder the Bats were into this stuff. The thrill of planning was probably nothing in comparison to the actual thing.
Tim fell asleep over his desk, bank vaults and grappling hooks dancing around in his head.
~
“You look like death,” Stephanie said, plopping down beside him at the lunch table. Tim’s face was firmly planted on the table, and he groaned from the effort of actually lifting his head up.
“Yeah, well,” Tim scratched the back of his head, “stayed up late working on homework.” Stayed up late freezing so he could see two seconds of supervillains entering and exiting a building. Riveting.
“No wonder your grades are so good, Mr. Smarty-pants.” Stephanie stole a chicken nugget from Tim’s untouched lunch tray, muttering “gross” under her breath, but still popping it in her mouth. “Just do what I do, which is to say, don’t do it,” she said with food still in her mouth.
Tim scoffed. “And have my parents jump down my throat? No thanks. And don’t pretend you don’t do your homework, I know you do.”
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone. And it might be a nice change of pace for you. What’s the saying? Negative attention is better than no attention at all? How’re they doing anyway?”
“Not sure. I think they’re in Bora Bora right now, so good, I guess. Uh, and yours?” He thought he already knew the answer.
“Still divorced. Dad’s been… ” She trailed off, chewing on her cheek. “They’ve been good.”
“Right.” She was holding something back, something more than usual, but he decided against pressing the issue. Steph’d share if she wanted to, and he didn’t want to somehow make things worse by asking about it. Instead, he stared down at his food, stomach clenching. “You can have the rest of my lunch, I’m not very hungry.”
“Probably for the best, since I’ve already eaten half of it. Though you gotta eat more if you’re gonna keep staying up so late.”
“If you thought that you shouldn’t have eaten my food.”
The bell rang, interrupting Steph’s laugh. Tim gathered his things as Steph finished off the last chicken nugget.
“Snoozers losers,” she said, “wanna hang out tonight?”
“Can’t. Lots of homework, plus a unit test tomorrow.” Plus patrolling Gotham with his camera. He thought he’d try the docks tonight. “But I’m free over the weekend. Big Belly Burger?”
“Duh, see ya saturday.” She shuffled off the class, and Tim trudged to his own, his mind on later tonight rather than on his next class.
He might get lucky and see Red Hood if he went to the docks. At the very least there’d be something suspicious going on—there always was at the docks, though it wasn’t always Bat-related. Hood’s schedule was a little less predictable than the others. The other Bats were out nearly every night, but they tended to target notable marks. Corporate buildings. Banks. Large events. Wealthy homes. (Tim secretly hoped they’d target his own home one day, though he felt a twinge of guilt, knowing the inconvenience it would cause his parents). Red Hood, on the other hand, was a wild card. Half the time, Tim couldn’t figure out what he was up to. He just assumed Hood liked having his fingers in many pies, which led him to operate a bit more independently than the other Bats.
Other than obvious targets of theft, the villains could be found picking fights with other villains. Red Hood did this the most frequently, but all of them participated in keeping the streets “clean.” If another Gotham villain tried to move in on their “turf,” which was often, one of the Bats would undoubtedly be paying them a visit. The Bats typically allowed petty crimes to pass without notice, but any big schemes from a non-bat villain were put to a screeching and violent halt. Because of this, Gotham was notorious for their crime being controlled by villain wars, rather than by heroes. And some of those villain wars had devastating consequences.
So, most of the time, Tim couldn’t go wrong with patrolling an area ripe for theft, or hanging around a location with active villains. As long as it wasn’t the Joker.
Of course, it was all still a guessing game. His choice of patrol only yielded results maybe once or twice a week. It was also dangerous. He’d been jumped a couple times, and though he’d always managed to get away only a little worse for wear, he knew his luck would only stretch so far.
Yet, he still went out every night, hoping to see them.
There was the thrill of it all, sure, but his favorite moments were after the fight or job was over, when the Bats would sometimes just talk or goof around. It happened most often when Nightwing was around, but they all had their moments. Batman giving a curt “good job” to the others. Nightwing, Red Hood, and Batgirl taking turns teasing Robin. Batgirl turning everything into a game or competition. Nightwing and Red Hood bantering.
Tim somehow felt like he was privy to some sort of secret or inside joke every time he saw the Bats acting like… people instead of villains.
~
That night, Tim weaved between freight containers, carts, and boxes at the docks, camera once again in hand. He knew that if he looked into any of the containers, the likelihood of finding something illicit was high—this was Gotham after all. But he wasn’t interested in smuggled weapons or drugs.
While scouting on some online forums, he’d read some rumors about Scarecrow cooking up a new fear formula, and some “special” ingredients making their way into the harbor tonight. They could just be that—rumors, but he’d been… pretty deep in the web when he’d stumbled across a henchmen recruitment forum. Which was unexpected, to say the least, and a bit amusing. He’d thought it had been a joke at first, but he’d been able to match up some of the users’ bios to arrest records.
A loud crash echoed through the shipping yard, followed by a chorus of shouts and grunts. There. Tim scurried towards the sound.
As he got closer, he found the origin of the racket. Nightwing and Robin were fending off a dozen or so henchmen, while Scarecrow shouted something unintelligible at the goons. With all the chaos unfolding between the two groups and the cover the crates provided, Tim thought he might be able to approach without notice.
Tim’s legs and arms shook as crept forward. This was the closest he’d been to a fight in a long time.
Click.
Yes! Nightwing whacking a goon on top of the head with an Escrima stick. Robin kneeing one guy in the nose. An unfortunate fella getting nailed in the throat. Tim allowed himself a small fist pump. These were some of the clearest photos he’d ever gotten, and the Bats’ poses looked pretty freakin’ rad.
Nightwing and Robin made short work of the rest of their opponents before facing Scarecrow. The man quivered as Nightwing spoke to him softly, a dangerous smile on his face. Robin took one step forward, and Scarecrow scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over himself before he turned around in a full sprint.
As soon as Scarecrow was out of sight, Nightwing and Robin tore their gaze away and spoke in hushed voices. Curious, Tim tried to catch some of the words, but all he heard was vaguely English-like sounds. The thought of leaving before they had reason to come in his direction didn’t occur to him.
At last, the two separated, slinking into the shadows in opposite directions. Tim was debating which one to follow when a voice spoke up from behind him.
“What do we have here?”
Tim nearly jumped out of his skin. Nightwing stood behind him, arms crossed.
“I- I was just—” Crap.
“A camera?” Nightwing raised an eyebrow and extended his hand.
“I-” Tim repeated, glancing back and forth between Nightwing and his camera. “Please don’t break it.”
“Cross my heart, though I may do some deleting.”
Damn. Those were good photos, too. He handed it over, and Nightwing started going through his pictures. “Huh, these are pretty good shots.”
“I wasn’t going to do anything weird with them, I swear. It’s just a hobby.”
“Stalking us is your hobby?” He didn’t sound angry, just amused. Tim felt his cheeks growing warm.
“I wouldn’t call it stalking.”
“Look, kid. As long as I don’t find out that you’re giving intel to the Joker or something, we’re fine. But I’m assuming you’re a civilian, and this is dangerous stuff. You really shouldn’t be getting this close to what we’re doing.”
“I’ve been alright so far.”
“So far, huh,” Nightwing said. He leaned back against a crate with a casual smile on his face as he spoke. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Half a year, maybe.”
“And none of us noticed.” Nightwing rubbed his jaw, his smile fading. “That’s… not great. For us, I mean, pretty impressive on your part. I am the first who’s caught you, right? You’re not Hood’s new cronie, or something?”
Tim shook his head.
“No, I’m not the first one who’s caught you, or no you’re not Hood’s new cronie?”
“Not a cronie,” Tim murmured.
“That’s good. I can’t imagine he’d be a very fun boss.”
Tim didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, so he didn’t.
Nightwing stared at him for a long time. Though his expression was fairly neutral, Tim sensed he was being analyzed. He fidgeted under the gaze, wondering if he was about to die.
“Alright,” Nightwing said at last, “I believe you. I’m gonna give the others a heads up that you’re doing this. I can’t promise they’ll take it as well as me, or won’t try to stop you from continuing, but nobody’s gonna kill you if they notice you tailing them. Probably.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Sure is. Hm, these pictures are from quite a few different nights. How have you been finding us?”
“Just… internet. Considered the places you go to often, or places I thought would be a good hit. And also just wandering around.”
“Bound to find a bat if you look in the right places.”
“Yeah.”
They stared at one another again in uncomfortable silence. Perhaps not so uncomfortable for Nightwing, but it sure was for Tim. Shit, he had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation.
Nightwing burst out laughing.
“Did- did I do something?” Tim wanted to die on the spot, this was so embarrassing. He’d known one of his patrols would go wrong eventually, but he didn’t expect to be laughed at by one of Gotham’s most notorious villains. Maimed? Yes. Killed? A distinct possibility. Made fun of? Not in a million years.
“No, no. I just—jeez, kid. I still can’t believe it. Oracle’s gonna get a kick out of this.”
“Oracle?”
“Sorry, but I’m gonna have to keep you in suspense on that one. Maybe it’ll mitigate B’s disappointment when he finds out none of us caught on to you for so long. Wouldn’t be surprised if he knew about you this whole time and was testing to see which one of us noticed first.” Nighwing’s face brightened. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. If you’re such a fanboy, you’ll want to meet Robin.”
“I’m not a fanboy.” And he didn’t particularly want to meet Robin. The kid always looked on the brink of a rampage, a small hurricane of knives and fury. But chances like this didn’t come often. Maybe he should… “Okay, maybe I am… a little. A fan, that is.”
Nightwing returned his camera, which Tim took back cautiously, and led him back through the crates, moving swiftly and not bothering to check if Tim was still following. Tim almost thought he lost Nightwing a few times, but he somehow managed to keep him in sight until Nightwing came to an abrupt halt.
“Nightwing.” Robin stepped out of the shadows. “You are late, I- Who is this?”
Nightwing slapped Tim on the shoulder. “We got ourselves a stalker, Little D. One that’s pretty good at keeping up.”
Little D. Damian Wayne, Tim noted mentally. They should be more careful about hinting at their identities in the field.
“Robin this is… I don’t think I’ve asked your name.”
“Tim.” Tim swallowed hard. “Timothy Drake.”
“A Drake, huh? Tim, this is Robin.”
“Why are you introducing us? I thought you said he was a stalker.” Robin’s question sounded more like a demand, and a batarang had somehow managed to find its way into his hand when Tim blinked.
“More like a fan. He’s been following us around for months, months, and none of us have been the wiser. And he’s got some neat photos of us. You looked particularly adorable in a couple of them, I might hang some on the fridge.”
“If you even contemplate such a ridiculous sentiment, I will kill you.” Robin spoke to Nightwing, but he eyed Tim, the hand holding the batarang twitching. “Why were you taking pictures?”
Tim sensed he was one wrong move away from being murdered by a pre-teen, so he chose his next words carefully, attempting his most innocent grin.
“It’s like Nightwing said, I’m a fan. You might be used to it, but it’s pretty cool for someone like me to be able to see some of the stuff you guys do. I just like observing, and having something to look back on.” He shrugged. “Nothing too major.”
“Nothing ‘major’? Most would not appreciate their photos being taken without their knowledge, especially by such a bumbling imbecile.”
“Robin,” Nightwing warned.
“Most people aren’t costumed supervillains,” Tim said. “The weird get-up and high profile crimes sort of demand attention. If you ask, I’ll stop, but I’m not an idiot.”
“Tt.”
“I’ll talk to the others, Tim. If you do go out again, try to be careful. Despite what you might think, none of us want a civilian coming to harm because of us.”
He was… surprisingly nice for a supervillain.
~
His second incident with a Bat was only a few nights later. Tim hadn’t even been patrolling then, only walking around for some fresh air. He’d gotten it into his head that he should just give up on his exploits. Once upon a time, this had all started as an investigation into Wayne Enterprises, but now he realized he no longer had an end goal. Tim didn’t want to turn over any of his knowledge to the police, and the game of following the Bats around dwindled now that they knew what he was doing.
Earlier in the night, he’d lain awake, trying to resist the urge to go out, when it had all gotten to be too much for him. He was out the door, determined to only take a walk and not go looking for any Bats, when a figure had appeared beside him.
He slowed his pace and glanced at Batgirl as she stared at him. It was eerie, knowing her eyes were on him even though he couldn’t see them.
“Um, hi,” he said.
“Tim.”
“Yeah. Is there something I can help you with?”
“...”
“Is this a threat to get me to stop following you guys?”
A soft, muffled laugh sounded from beneath Batgirl’s mask. “No. Just wanted to see.” They walked in silence for several moments before Batgirl spoke again. “I was… frustrated by you.”
“Oh.” Despite what he’s said to Robin, thinking about his hobby as stalking people instead of investigating supervillains made him feel like a creep. “I guess I should’ve considered that I was breaching you guys’ privacy. I’m sorry.” He remembered hating the few times his dad had gone through his stuff.
“No. It would be… hypocritical… to be angry with you about privacy. I was frustrated… you were so sneaky.”
Huh, that had been Nightwing’s main concern, too. He guessed his snooping seemed trivial in comparison to their thieving and beating up adversaries. Allegedly, some of the Bats had killed people, too, though he’d never seen them do so himself. He knew it to be true for Red Hood, at least with other criminal targets, but he’d never managed to trace any murders directly back to any of the other Bats. From what he’d seen of Robin, he wouldn’t put it past him.
“I wasn’t that sneaky. You were all just busy with your cases.”
“We need to notice when we are followed. Ignorance puts all of us at risk. I put us at risk.”
Tim frowned. The last sentence was spoken emphatically, as if she were lecturing herself.
“Maybe it’s not that you didn’t notice… maybe you somehow knew you didn’t need to notice.”
“Explain.”
“You know the comic-book hero, Spiderman?” Batgirl shook her head, but Tim pressed on anyway. “Well, he has a spidey-sense that lets him sense any danger around him. Maybe all of you, like, intuitively knew I didn’t mean any harm, so I just blended into the background to you.”
“Hm. Still need more training.”
“If it helps, you’re always the one I have the hardest time spotting.”
The fabric of Batgirl’s mask shifted, and Tim got the sense that she was smiling.
“Bet you won’t… spot me again. Now that I know.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Yes.”
Tim believed her when she said he wouldn’t be able to do it, but he wouldn’t back down from such blatant, if jestful, provocation. “If I can spot you, how will I prove it?”
“Picture.”
That would complicate things. Spotting her was one thing, keeping her in sight long enough to capture her on camera was another. But it did sound fun.
“Deal.”
He blinked and Batgirl was gone.
~
Tim waited another week before he worked up the courage to go out looking for trouble. None of the masked villains had turned up at his house looking for him yet, and he wasn’t dead, so he took that as a sign that those he hadn’t met yet weren’t too worked up about his existence. Packing some of his homework in case patrol was a bit slow, Tim planned to skateboard through one of his usual routes. This time, in Red Hood’s territory.
According to news reports, a splinter group from a drug cartel based in Gotham had been experiencing small skirmishes in some of the warehouses in the area, with more than a few members being found dead. Considering the location and Red Hood’s decidedly more violent problem-solving skills, Tim thought he knew who he’d find.
After a couple hours of wandering from warehouse to warehouse, Tim noticed a dull light shining through one warehouse’s windows. Inside, Red Hood was indeed beating up cartel members, though it didn’t appear to be a particular challenge for the villain. What was odd was that Red Hood was taking his time, exchanging a few punches with each opponent instead of taking them out forcefully like Tim was used to seeing. Some of his strikes couldn’t even be called outright punches. It was like he was dragging and pushing the goons along while they struggled with all their might to get a single hit in.
Eventually, Hood did proceed to knock out his opponents. One by one, each went down with a single hit. At last, he held the final goon up by his collar, then did something Tim didn’t expect.
“Smile,” Red Hood said, raising his voice and throwing a peace sign in Tim’s direction.
Of course, Tim didn’t miss the opportunity.
After the camera flashed, Red Hood dropped the goon, who fell limp to the ground. Hood dusted off his hands and sauntered in Tim’s direction, taking his helmet off as he walked.
“Thought if I made enough noise I’d get your attention. You had me worried you weren’t coming.”
Not seeing a reason to stay hidden, Tim stepped out from behind the box he’d taken cover behind and waited for Red Hood to come to him.
“Your punches did seem softer than usual,” Tim said, trying to mimic Hood’s relaxed demeanor. “How’d you know I’d be-” patrolling tonight would definitely sound like he took himself too seriously “-around?”
“Glad you noticed, and I didn’t. I’ve just made sure to be particularly slow and loud the last few nights.” Red Hood paused, then pressed a finger to his ear. “Haha, very funny. Going silent for a while.”
“Oracle?” Tim guessed.
“You got it. That a skateboard?”
Tim nodded. “You ride?”
“Nah, I used to want to though, as a kid. Now, the motorcycles, grappling hooks, and occasional freefalling are enough for me.”
Red Hood took a gun from one of his holsters. Tim tensed, but he didn’t point it at Tim, or anything for that matter. He just sort of… held it and looked at it.
“Listen, Tom.”
The mood immediately shifting, Tim chose not to correct his name.
“Bats aren’t people you want to emulate, or stalk, or whatever the fuck it is you do. Everyone in the little club has been screwed up enough in the past that this life is somehow comparatively better.”
Silence stretched between them, and it took Tim a moment to realize Hood was waiting for a response.
“Makes sense.”
“It does, doesn’t it. Stop following us around, you’re gonna get yourself killed. Trust me. And even if you don’t, your life sure ain’t gonna get any better from this. Go back home to Mommy and Daddy in your big mansion.”
Red Hood strode away, his footsteps heavy on the warehouse floor.
“Better head out soon,” Hood called behind him. “You don’t want to be here when they wake up.”
The warehouse’s metal door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the vast space and continuing in Tim’s own mind. With a final glance at the unconscious goons, Tim walked home, skateboard clutched to his side.
~
Tim’s relief that no supervillains had shown up at his house had been premature.
Batman himself stood across from Tim, arms folded and expression strangely disappointed. Shit, he got enough of that from his own dad.
“Timothy Drake.”
“Yes, Batman sir?”
He studied Tim for a long time, and knowing the villain, he could see right through him. After his encounter with Red Hood, he wasn’t sure what to expect from Bat’s visit. Judging from his demeanor, Tim didn’t think he was in any real danger. While known to use force, Batman wasn’t known to kill except in rare circumstances, and though those circumstances had grown more frequent in recent years, notably so after Jason Todd’s death, Tim didn’t think he made the list of “worth killing.” If anything, he’d probably tell Tim that he was being annoying and to knock it off. Maybe take something expensive on the way out.
Instead, Batman held up a finger. “Be careful.” He held up another. “Stay out of the way.” And a third. “If you see any trouble, you call out for one of us to help you.”
That stumped him. “You’re not going to ask me to stop?”
“I have enough experience with young people to know you wouldn’t listen if I did.” Batman released a long-suffering sigh. “This business is not one you escape once you’ve entered it. It can become an addiction, and I suspect that to be true even from the sidelines.”
“Is it that way for all of you?”
“Some of us, at least. I know you don’t mean any harm, Tim, and I’m not going to use excessive force on a civilian. While I’d rather you kept your trailing to a minimum, I’d also prefer you do so as safely as possible rather than take risks trying to remain hidden from us.”
“It sounds like you’ve had a lot of problems with teenagers sneaking out.”
He made a noncommittal sound which Tim took as affirmation.
“I am confused as to why you’re so keen on my safety. I can’t imagine Penguin or Two-Face taking the time to offer safety to a nosy stranger. Is there a catch?”
Batman turned to the window, ignoring Tim’s statement. “Remember what I said: caution, don’t interfere, call for help if you need it.”
“Right, got it. Can I ask what you guys stole from the bank last week?”
And just like that, he was gone.