The Old Gotham Treasury & Exchange had been great once. Founded just before the turn of the century by an aspiring Jewish immigrant of good repute and better business sense, it had expanded quickly, thrown out great stone shoots and pushed deep basements and tunnels below the pavements. Wealthy men had frequented the marble stairs; Rolls-Royce and Cadillac were frequent emblems at the front steps.

But that time was past. Now, the high glass windows were blinded and cracked. The marble steps were crumbling, crazed by thick roots and runners. Prostitutes and dealers walked the littered halls, and the Treasury & Exchange had finally been condemned after two homicide victims had been discovered in its vault. The Treasury & Exchange belonged to another era, a time of glamour and elegance, patriotism and Prohibition- a time when wealthy Gothamites could attend a late-showing opera and walk home in safety, without fear of being robbed.

And now Robin stood guard atop the old building, a tiny splash of red and yellow against the towering grey. He stood firm and straight, his arms crossed resolutely over his chest, and stared out over the city. That meant there were two villains tonight. Nightwing lowered his binoculars and steadied his stance on the gargoyle, debating whether or not to swing over to Robin and say hello. He didn't see eye-to-eye with Batman, but that didn't mean...

What the heck. He wasn't often in Gotham's historic district, and the kid could probably use some help. Nightwing shot his grapple at a nearby projection, swung quickly and quietly through the air, and landed behind Tim Drake without a sound.

"Took you long enough to come over," Robin said, without turning around.

Nightwing shook his head.

"Got to work on that landing, I guess," he said. "You weren't supposed to hear me coming."

"Yeah, well, I guess I've had a lot of practice," Robin said, and Nightwing suppressed a smile. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you only worked in Bludhaven now."

"I happened to be in town and thought I'd drop in," said Nightwing. He walked over to Robin's perch and scanned the city. "Who are you waiting for?"

"I don't know," Robin said shortly. "We're wrapping up a big case. Batman's been working undercover as Matches- I mean, deep undercover. The Ventriloquist's been moving in on several of the big gangs, just taking over, and we- Batman- 've been trying to figure out how. Yesterday, one of the big goons-"

"Rhino?" Nightwing asked. Robin gave him a look. "Sorry. I've just fought most of the Ventriloquist's goons before."

"I know," Robin said. "I don't know who it was. I wasn't there." His lips tightened as he ended the sentence, and Nightwing felt a twinge of sympathy. "Anyway, we know the Ventriloquist had a partner. They were supposed to meet tonight. Batman's dropping the Ventriloquist off at Arkham, and he'll be back for the meeting."

"Ah." Nightwing relaxed slightly. "Left you on guard duty, I see."

"I volunteered," Robin said stubbornly.

"Of course. And what happens if the partner shows up and Batman's not back yet?" said Nightwing.

The boy didn't say anything, just took out a red robin star and twirled it around his hand. Nightwing smiled.

"I like your style," he said. "Tim, right?"

"Robin."

Nightwing rolled his eyes.

"Right. The Boy Wonder. Seriously, kid, what are you going to do when you grow out of it?"

Tim turned to him, putting the robin star back into his belt.

"You didn't," he pointed out. "And besides-" he stopped, and both crimefighters automatically went still. A car was coming down the street. It was a beige sedan with dark, tinted windows, and Nightwing had an unpleasant familiar feeling in his stomach. He'd seen it before... somewhere... The car rolled to a stop in front of the Exchange, and two men in trench coats and fedoras got out and walked to the entrance.

Nightwing was suddenly aware of Robin's eyes on him. The "now what?" was unspoken- and unmistakeable.

"Right," he said, straightening out of his crouch. "We'll go stop these guys. Piece of cake."

He turned and eased through a broken window. Below, partially hidden from view behind a large and tattered chandelier, the men were talking quietly by the main desk. A third man joined them, the lapels of his coat turned up to cover his face.

"What's the plan?" came Robin's whisper.

"Plan?" Nightwing said. "We take 'em all down. Ready?"

"Uh-"

Without waiting to hear Robin's response, Nightwing launched himself from the balcony, somersaulted off the chandelier, and glided straight towards the third and central man. It was one of Nightwing's private and guilty pleasures, the dawning look of realization as a hapless mook looked up and saw, far too late, what was headed for him. WHOOF! Nightwing landed on the "leader," driving him to the floor. Nightwing cartwheeled off him and landed a high kick on the first goon. Someone cursed, someone drew a gun, and Nightwing automatically knocked it away. He loved this feeling: all his senses sharpened by adrenaline, his mind racing with glorious precision, acting on trained instinct and easily winning the fight. BAM! The first thug was out. The other was sparring with little Robin; that just left the leader, and he'd already been decked. No-

There was a heavy blow from behind, and then blackness.

"Ungh..." Nightwing's eyes fluttered open, and he winced. Whoever had cold-cocked him had done a darn good job. Oh, and was tied up as well. No utility belt. No blindfold either; he was roped back-to-back with a boy- Robin- in the middle of the vault. Not good. "Who hit me?" No response. "Hey. Hey, Robin! Robin! You okay?"

The kid moved a little, shook his head, and groaned.

"Where are we?" he said.

"The vault. Didn't happen to see who knocked me out, did you?"

"I knocked you out."

Nightwing froze. He knew that voice. Unpleasant feelings welled up in the pit of his stomach, and he automatically shifted to block Robin from the man striding out of the shadows, face lost to darkness, obsessively flipping the silver coin.

"Two-Face," he said bitterly. "I might have guessed you go in for a partnership with the Ventriloquist."

"Yeah? Then you're smarter than you look," the villain growled. "The shrinks say he's got, uh, dual personality disorder, or something like that. I just see two people in one body. Just like me. Pity I had to double-cross him. But I made it right. I sent the Two-Ton Gang to go break him back out- it should keep the Bat busy for at least..." he glanced at his watch. "Another three hours. But I'll be done with you in half that."

"Funny," Robin spoke up boldly, "I was about to say the same to you."

Two-Face laughed harshly, and Nightwing cringed. Didn't the boy know to be quiet?

"You're quite the little comedian," growled Two-Face, flipping the coin. "Kinda reminds me of another little smartass I used to know. Called himself Robin too, if I remember... but now he thinks he's too good for that. All grown up, isn't that right?"

"Shut up," Nightwing snapped. He wanted to make some witty reply, but all his usual snark seemed to have deserted him. Dark, angry memories flooded his mind: the old courthouse, the judge, Batman unable- or unwilling- to break free, try your luck, kid... "You're sick. You're going back to Arkham Asylum, Two-Face."

"Eventually. But first..." Two-Face bent down, caught the coin, and ruffled Nightwing's hair. "I thought we'd get reacquainted. Or maybe... I should play a little game with your understudy."

"You leave him out of this!" Nightwing snapped. "Just, whatever business you have with me, just leave him out. He's just a kid!"

"So were you," Two-Face retorted calmly. Suddenly, the growl almost disappeared, and a strange voice, a voice Nightwing had only heard on newsreels and archived campaign footage, came out of Harvey Dent's mouth. "I'm sorry for what happened before. But your luck balanced out eventually, didn't it? You're still alive. Say what you will about chance... it's fair." He flipped the coin meaningfully. "Now. We're gonna play a little game. Good side, he walks and I spend a little... quality time with you, bird-boy. Scarred side, you get a bus to Metropolis and I'll have a heart-to-heart with the kid. Or... you can call it in the air. Call it right, and I'll let you both walk free."

"And if I guess wrong?" Nightwing said, already knowing the answer.

Two-Face flipped the coin and caught it in a scarred fist. He grinned at Nightwing, the left side of his face contorting into a nightmarish leer.

"You go down together," he said. "So what's it gonna be?"

Nightwing ground his teeth together. If only he could move his wrist a bit more to the left, he might stand a chance of-

"We'll do it," Robin said suddenly. "We'll play your game."

What? Tim- Robin- couldn't be that stupid. Nightwing's jaw almost dropped, and he twisted around to look Robin in the face. One look at the boy, and the words died on Nightwing's lips. Robin looked a little scared, a little stubborn, and very, very young. His jaw was set in a familiar square-chinned look, and he glared at Two-Face with mixture of courage, expectancy, and naivete. Looking at Robin, Nightwing knew there was no doubt in the boy's mind that Batman would crash through the roof at the last minute and save the day. Nightwing saw... a boy fully trusting his father to save him. It was like seeing a younger version of himself.

Nightwing's heart sank. No matter how this played out, it couldn't end well.

Two-Face laughed.

"I like your spunk, kid. All right." He readied the coin, his scarred thumb poised just under the silver surface. "Call it."

"G-" began Robin, but Nightwing cut him off.

"Scarred side."

The coin fell into Dent's hand, and he looked down at it. His face contorted for a moment, then relaxed.

"Good call," he said, his voice strangely smooth and calm. "All right, gentlemen. Let's get our walkers started."

The two goons came forward, and Nightwing immediately recognized two of Arkham's new suicide collars, paid for by the Wayne Foundation. Behind him, Robin shifted and twisted.

"I had a friend of mine do some work on these," Two-Face rasped, flipping the coin again. Nightwing clenched his eyes shut as the heavy iron contraption was rammed over his head and locked. "It monitors your heart rate. Now, you can walk nice and easy, go to sleep, sit down, even go see a movie, and you'll be just fine. But you start running, or fighting, or let yourself get too excited, and you're gonna get a nasty shock." He straightened up, a twisted smirk uniting both halves of his face. "Oh, and see this building? I decided to save the city a couple thousand in demolition and take it down tonight." He pulled a small black detonator from his pocket and pressed a button. "Two minutes to detonation. See you around, boys." Dent turned and sprinted for the door, closely followed by his henchmen.

"But- but you promised!" Robin shouted after him. "This isn't fair! You promised!"

"That we could walk free," Nightwing said bitterly. "Always know the terms of the deal you're making. Any good lawyer will tell you that." He struggled against the ropes, and immediately felt a slight, warm pressure against his collarbone. "Are those my gloves?"

"What?"

"My Robin gloves. I modified them, put a razor blade in the gauntlet." After Two-Face caught me the first time and beat me bloody because Bruce gave me a picklock instead of something useful, but you don't need to know that.

"I guess so... how do you- whoa. Ow." There was a moment of silence. "Okay, I'm working on the ropes. How do we get out without running?"

"Grappling hooks," Nightwing said shortly. "Unless you're afraid of heights."

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

You will be. Nightwing winced. Cripes, I'm sounding as grim as the Bat.

"Okay. Then we'll get the roof and swing out from there," he said.

"What then?" Robin asked.

The ropes split and fell away from the crimefighters, and they stood up together, reaching for their grapples in the same motion. Two hook shot up into the air and embedded themselves into the ceiling.

"Then," Nightwing said, "we find Batman."

Robin's eyes widened, but he prudently said nothing.