INT. COURT OF OWLS LAIR – ENTRANCE HALL – EARLY MORNING
Dick steps through the large iron doors of the Court's underground lair. The silence hits harder than usual. His body is still sore from the gunshot, but it's the emotional bruising from last night that weighs the heaviest.
Barbara understood, finally—but that didn't mean forgiveness came easy.
Batman... was another story.
---
FLASHBACK – EARLIER THAT NIGHT – BELFRY
INT. BELFRY – MEDICAL BAY – POST-CONFRONTATION
Dick stood with his arms folded, blood-stained shirt half-buttoned, facing Bruce and Barbara. His voice calm but resolute.
"I'll finish this mission. I'll see it through to the end. But I'm not feeding intel through the shadows anymore." Dick tells Batman.
"Dick, the chain of command exists for a reason—" Batman trys to finish his sentence.
Dick cutting him off."Yeah, and so does trust."
He turned to Barbara."If I need to get something out fast, I'm giving it to her. Not because I don't respect you, Bruce. But because I trust her with my life."
"You're compromising the op." Batman says gritting his teeth.
"No. I'm protecting the last part of me that hasn't been chewed up by this damn mask." Dick answers back.
Barbara said nothing, but the look she gave Dick was layered—anger still there, but buried under something heavier: belief.
---
BACK TO PRESENT – COURT LAIR – DICK'S ROOM
Dick enters his quarters and locks the door behind him. The room is quiet, sterile, cold. He sets his phone down on the table and pulls out a small burner, modified.
ON SCREEN – SECURE ORACLE LINE: ACTIVE
DICK (typing):
"I'll upload all the intel I got from last week's mission. IDs on Penguin's men, photos from the fake truce meeting, and court positions. Organize it, send it to Batman. But you run point. From now on, this goes through you."
A beat later.
BARBARA (text):
"Understood. You're still reckless."
DICK (text):
"You still love me."
BARBARA (text):
"Shut up and send the files."
Dick allows himself a small smirk before uploading the data. His fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone for a moment longer.
DICK (text):
"I'm not losing myself in this. Not as long as I have you to pull me back."
BARBARA (text, after a pause):
"Then don't give me a reason to stop."
He leans back in the chair, the mask of Grayson still waiting on the table beside him.
He stares at it.
Then looks away.
GRANDMASTER'S OFFICE – NIGHT
The air is thick with incense and unspoken tension. The Grandmaster sits at his desk, fingers tented under his chin, owl mask resting just beside him. Dick stands across from him, sharp and calm, despite the faint ache pulsing beneath his ribs.
"Where have you been the last few days, Grayson?" The Grandmaster asked coldly.
Dick doesn't flinch."Took a bullet at the truce meeting. Slipped off and holed up in one of the Court's old safe houses off Lincoln. Abandoned apartment. Needed a few days to stop the bleeding."
A long beat. The Grandmaster studies him, eyes sharp—calculating. "You should've reported in."
"Didn't want to draw heat back here. Figured it was cleaner this way. I'm no good to you leaking red all over the floors." Dick tells him.
The Grandmaster narrows his eyes—then nods slowly, seeming to accept it. "Fine. You're lucky we haven't had need of you."
He pulls a thick manila folder from his desk and slides it toward Dick."We've got a weapons cache coming in from out of state. Pauline's assembling a crew to intercept and secure it from a farmhouse in Arkham County. Quiet run—but I want it clean."
Dick opens the folder briefly—blueprints, inventory manifests, and grainy satellite photos of a long, lonely stretch of land.
"But before you meet Pauline… head to the doctor. Can't have you passing out on the job." The Grandmaster half joked, half ordered.
"Understood." Dick nods.
The Grandmaster gestures toward the door."You've done well lately, Grayson. But don't mistake that for trust. We are always watching."
Dick turns, schooling his features."Wouldn't expect anything less."
---
INT. COURT MEDICAL WING – LATER
Cold. Clinical. The doctor's office is barely more than a repurposed lab with surgical lights and heavy restraints on the bed. Dr. Klem, the Court's personal medic, looks like a man who hasn't smiled since the last century.
"Shirt off." DR. Klem ordered
Dick silently complies, wincing as he lifts his arm. The bandage from Barbara's earlier work is clean but soaked red through the side.
Klem studies it and begins to clean the wound with detached precision.
"You're lucky. A few centimeters over and it'd have ruptured your kidney." DR. Klem huffs.
"Wouldn't be the first organ I've bruised for the mission." Dick says flatly.
"You Court types love bleeding for your secrets." DR. Klem huffs
He stitches fast, tight, efficient."There. You'll live. Try not to tear it open crawling through pig shit or bullets, yeah?"
"No promises." Dick said grinning faintly.
Klem tosses a small bottle of painkillers onto the tray next to him."Now get out. Pauline's probably already bitching about you being late."
---
INT. COURT GARAGE – LATER
Engines hum. Crewmembers in masks pack crates into trucks.
Pauline sees Dick approaching, leaning against the hood of a beat-up truck, cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Well look who decided to not die." Pauline says as Dick approaches.
"Disappointing, I know." Dick tells him.
"Hope you brought your sense of humor, farm boy. We're heading deep into Arkham woods. Just us, a truck full of guns, and whatever hick horror movie shit's waiting out there." Pauline tells him.
Dick loads a fresh magazine into his sidearm."Sounds like a date."
They both climb into the truck.
"You're driving." Pauline tells him as he gets into the passenger seat.
Dick starting the engine."Of course I am."
INT. TRUCK — NIGHT — RAIN-SOAKED BACKROADS OUTSIDE GOTHAM
The vehicle hums low as headlights slice through sheets of rain. Trees loom on either side of the narrow road, tall and watchful. Inside the truck, the mood is heavy but calculated.
Dick keeps his hands steady on the wheel, but his mind is already racing.
"Where's Sam? Thought he'd be riding with us."
Pauline leans back in the passenger seat, brushing raindrops from his jacket sleeve."Already at the farm. We're the muscle in case anything goes sideways."
Dick nods once, gears shifting beneath the surface. He keeps his voice neutral. "Speaking of Sam… I've been meaning to ask."
Pauline raises a brow but waits.
"You trying to get him to back Evelyn?" Dick asks.
Pauline grins, not bothering to hide it."So, she told you?"
"Not in so many words. Just enough." Dick tells him.
Pauline stares out the window for a beat before speaking again."I think she's right, you know. Her father's a relic. Every move he's made in the last two years? Dead ends. Burned alliances. We're bleeding influence. The Penguin truce? A mess. The Mayor's kid? Even worse."
He glances at Dick now."We can't keep pretending like the Court is still in control. Evelyn sees a bigger picture—something global. She's got vision."
"Overthrowing the Grandmaster isn't a chess match, Pauline. It's a war inside a family. You want change, you'll need more than just ambition—you'll need numbers. You'll need unity." Dick says.
Pauline smirks, lighting a cigarette despite the storm outside."Most of the Court's younger blood already wants him out. Hell, even some of the older ones grumble behind the mask. They just don't want to be first to raise the knife."
Dick glances sideways at him."And Sam?"
Pauline exhales smoke through his nose. No smile now."Sam's… loyal. Not stupid, but loyal. He's seen what happens when coups fail. He needs to believe this won't be another bloody mess." Pauline says.
"Then we better give him a reason to believe. No slip-ups. No loose ends. And if Evelyn wants to lead, she better be ready to bleed for it." Dick said carefully.
Pauline chuckles, a dark edge to it."Now that sounds like a man who's thinking like a Court member."
"Just thinking like a survivor." Dick said quietly.
The truck rumbles on through the storm, headlights flickering over a crooked wooden sign up ahead:
"LANTON FARM — PRIVATE PROPERTY"
As the silhouette of the old farmhouse comes into view, the storm seems to hush… just for a moment.
Something is waiting.
And the real game is only beginning.
The truck grinds to a stop at the rusted gate of the farm. Weeds twist up the fenceposts and the mailbox hangs open like a broken jaw. The barn ahead is dark, save for the occasional flicker of lightning dancing across its roof.
Dick gives two sharp beeps of the horn.
Nothing.
No movement.
No Sam.
Pauline frowns. Reaches behind the seat, pulls out a weathered double-barrel shotgun, and hands it grip-first to Dick."Better safe than sorry."
Dick takes the gun but eyes Pauline. "You sure Sam said this was the right place?"
"Yeah. Same drop point we used last time. He was supposed to get here early and check the crates." Pauline said.
Pauline opens the passenger door and hops out, rain instantly soaking into his coat."I'll round up the crew. You do a sweep. Check the barn, then the house."
Dick cocks the shotgun but pauses before stepping off."If I run into the supplier… any chance you can give me a name so I don't put a hole in him?"
Pauline nods, rubbing water from his brow."Guy goes by 'Mule.' Big dude. Wears a biker cut over camo gear. Usually chews tobacco like he's trying to kill it. Bit jumpy but harmless if you don't sneak up on him."
"Mule. Got it." Dick says.
Pauline's tone darkens slightly."But if he's turned on us or something smells off... you know what to do."
Dick gives a short nod and shoulders the shotgun."Yeah. I know."
Pauline walks a little down the road to get the crew, dick on the other hand walks towards the barn.
The rain hammers down harder as Dick makes his way toward the barn, shotgun at the ready. A lantern flickers once inside—just enough to cast shadows.
The air is still, unnervingly so. Mud squelches under his boots. Something isn't right.
Sam should be here.
So should the supplier.
And if they aren't… something's already gone wrong.
As dick entered deeper into the farm he sees a truck and see someone in the driver's seat.
"Hey buddy". Dick shouts but gets no reply.
Dick walks to the driver's side and open the door the dead weight of Mule's body hits the wet ground with a thud, his lifeless eyes staring up at the stormy sky. A dark entry wound blooms at the base of his skull—execution style.
Dick doesn't even get a second to react.
"Drop your weapon!" A thug shouts.
Dick spins, shotgun half-raised, as two armed men close in through the downpour. Their guns are already drawn.
"You first." Dick shouts back.
"We don't have time for this." The second thug says looking at his partner.
"Sorry, pal. Guess we're doing this the hard way." The thug from earlier shouts looking at dick.
BLAM!
Dick fires low—shotgun buck slams into Thug 1's leg, blowing him off his feet with a scream.
Before Thug 2 can react, Dick dives behind a wet hay bale, pellets ripping past where his head had just been.
Gunfire erupts.
Thunder rolls as bullets slam into the hay and surrounding barrels, shredding wood and sending straw flying.
He racks the shotgun again, breathing hard.
Thug 2 moves to flank, creeping toward a rusted tractor to Dick's right.
Dick waits.
Watches the shadow move past a broken wheel.
Then ducks out—firing a shell that clips the man's arm, sending him spinning to the ground with a cry of pain.
But the second he's down, another click echoes behind Dick.
A third attacker, previously unseen, steps from the barn shadows—gun pointed right at Dick's back.
"Drop it." The third thug says.
Dick slowly lowers the shotgun… eyes scanning for options.
The third man approaches, staying just out of reach.
"Thought this would be clean. Guess not." The thug says.
"That's the problem with setups. Someone always bleeds." Dick replies back.
Suddenly—
CRACK! — a shot from the treeline.
The third attacker drops instantly, head snapping back, a red mist in the air.
Dick blinks, then turns.
Pauline steps out of the misty dark, pistol still raised, face unreadable.
"You okay?" Pauline asks.
"I am now." Dick replies looking at the body's
Pauline surveys the scene, then Mule's corpse.
"This was supposed to be an arms pickup. Someone else got here first." Pauline says.
"And set a trap. For who, though? Us… or Sam?" Dick replies with.
Pauline holsters his weapon and spits into the dirt.
"Doesn't matter. Whoever it was… just signed their death warrant." Pauline says.
Dick lowers the shotgun, but his mind's already racing.
If Sam's in trouble, the Court's plan might be unraveling faster than they realize—and someone's playing a deeper game behind the scenes.
The mission just changed. Again.
Rain spatters the blood-streaked mud as Pauline crouches beside one of the bodies he just rolled over. He pulls back the collar on the jacket, revealing a gold-stitched FC monogram on the inner lining.
His jaw tightens.
"Falcone. These guys are all Falcone muscle." Pauline said grimly.
Dick steps closer, shotgun slung over his shoulder, eyes narrowed."Falcone? What beef does he have with the Court?"
Pauline stands up slowly, wiping his hand on his coat."Old history. Falcone used to own Gotham's underworld. Then the Court stepped in—took his power, his territory, his fear. We didn't finish the job."
"Looks like he's picking up where he left off." Dick replies.
A shout pierces the storm from across the yard.
"Pauline! Over here!" One of the crew members shouts.
Dick and Pauline rush toward the barn, the massive doors creaking open to reveal a dim, reeking interior. A crewman stands inside, pale and stiff, pointing toward the back wall.
There—under hanging tarps and hay bales—a row of corpses lie bound and executed. Shot in the head. Close range.
Pauline steps closer, heart sinking.
"Is Sam in there?" Pauline asks quietly.
The crewman shakes his head silently, jaw tight. Pauline breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's short-lived.
"We haven't checked the house yet." Dick reminds Pauline.
Pauline looks toward the old farmhouse about thirty yards away—its windows dark, its screen door swinging in the wind.
"If Sam's alive, that's where he'd hole up. Or where they'd keep him." Dick tells him.
Pauline nods, snapping his fingers to two of the crew."You two, circle around back. Grayson, you're with me."
They start moving toward the house, boots squelching in the mud, guns raised, eyes sharp.
The storm howls louder, but Dick's thoughts are louder still—
Falcone was making moves. Evelyn was plotting her coup.
And somewhere, Sam might be bleeding out… or worse.
Either way, the house held answers.
And Dick was done losing people in the dark.
INT. FARMHOUSE – UPSTAIRS HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
The floorboards creak under Dick's and Pauline's boots as they follow the dark trail of blood snaking up the staircase. Each step feels heavier than the last, the tension thick like wet cloth clinging to their backs.
At the top, a half-open door.
Pauline pushes it open fast, weapon raised—
—but inside, Sam sits slumped against the wall, hand pressed hard against his bloody side. He's breathing, but it's shallow and ragged."Sam! Shit—you look like hell."
Dick rushes to his other side, kneeling."We've got you. Just stay with us."
Sam groans, eyes fluttering. He speaks through gritted teeth."Ambush… came outta nowhere… three of 'em… outside…"
Just then—
BANG. BANG.
Two sharp gunshots ring out from outside the farmhouse, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies thudding against soaked dirt.
Dick and Pauline freeze.
They exchange a glance—grim, quiet, final.
"That was our crew." Dick asked.
"Yeah. Dead." Pauline answers back.
A beat of silence as a cold breeze slips through the shattered window. In the distance, the creak of boots and the metallic snap of magazines loading.
They're surrounded.
Pauline growls under his breath and leans toward Sam."You good to move?"
"I can limp. You'll have to cover." Sam replied with gritted teeth.
Dick moves to the window and peeks through a bullet hole—four figures, black suits, Falcone insignia, moving with precision. Not thugs—trained killers."We'll never make it back to the truck."
"Then we make a stand." Pauline says.
Pauline tosses Sam a pistol from his belt. Sam catches it with his good hand and smirks despite the blood on his lips."Guess it's a good day to be pissed off."
Dick loads his pistol, steps back, breathes in.
Three Court men.
Three shadows.
Surrounded by wolves.
But they weren't going down easy.
Not tonight.
Rain hammers the earth as bullets scream past, slicing through broken shutters and splintered wood. Dick crouches low, one arm locked around Sam's waist, half-carrying, half-dragging him through the back door of the farmhouse.
"Almost there, come on—don't black out on me." Dick tells Sam.
Pauline is ahead, suppressing fire with ruthless precision—
pop-pop-POP!
A Falcone man stumbles out of the brush before a final round puts him down."I've got the path—MOVE!"
They rush through a crumbling gate to the truck, its engine still running. Pauline jumps into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. Dick throws the back open, helping Sam inside and immediately going to work on his wound.
INT. TRUCK – MOVING – NIGHT
As Pauline swerves through the winding rural roads, gunfire still cracks behind them. Two Falcone SUVs speed into view—
—but before they can close the gap—
Red and blue lights flash.
GCPD squad cars roar in behind them.
"Great. Just what we needed—cops." Pauline said cursing under is breath.
In the back, Dick's hands are soaked as he applies pressure to Sam's wound, pulling a field kit from under the bench seat."Stay with me, Sam. You pass out, I'll kick your ass back awake."
"You're the worst nurse I've ever had…" Sam says weakly.
Outside, sirens wail. A squad car pulls up beside them and tries to force them off the road.
"Not today!"Pauline yanks the wheel, sending the truck into a controlled skid. The police car overcorrects and slams into a tree.
One by one, the pursuers are lost—Pauline drives like a man possessed.
INT. TRUCK – LATER
The storm eases just slightly. The city skyline is a blur behind them.
Dick finishes wrapping the gauze and gives Sam a quick nod."It's not clean, but he'll live."
"Depends on how long you keep driving like this, Pauline…" Sam said groaning.
Pauline smirks, eyes fixed on the road."We'll be clear in ten. I know a guy. Real quiet. Real loyal. Keeps his mouth shut."
"Court-affiliated?" Dick asks
"Used to be. Now he just patches holes—flesh, tires, reputations." Pauline answers back
Dick leans back, exhausted. The blood on his gloves is starting to dry. Outside, Gotham's outskirts flash by.
"We got out. Barely. Someone set us up, Grayson." Pauline tells dick.
Dick stares out the window, jaw tight."Yeah. And I intend to find out who."
EXT. DOCTOR'S HOUSE – EDGE OF GOTHAM – NIGHT
The truck pulls up to a run-down house tucked between a line of dead trees and a forgotten industrial canal. The yard is overgrown, the lights dim, but someone is clearly home—someone waiting.
The moment they stop, a middle-aged man in a bloodstained apron opens the screen door. He holds up a cigarette but doesn't speak—just motions with his head."Bring him in."
INT. DOCTOR'S HOUSE – MOMENTS LATER
Dick and Pauline help Sam onto a table in a dark side room. The place reeks of antiseptic and rusted metal. Old X-rays hang by clothespins. There's no time for subtlety.
The doctor immediately gets to work—cutting away fabric, checking Sam's pulse."You boys bring me the worst kind of business. This one's lucky. Bullet missed the artery."
Pauline nods to Dick and steps away, giving the doctor room.
EXT. DOCTOR'S HOUSE – BACK PORCH – NIGHT
Dick steps out for a breath. He leans against a pillar, soaked coat heavy on his back, blood still on his gloves. Gotham is silent in this part of town, the night pressing in like a held breath.
Pauline joins him, walking up quietly."Hell of a night."
Dick nods, saying nothing.
"You did good, Grayson. Really. You saved his life." Pauline said putting a hand on his shoulder.
Dick glances at him, half-surprised at the sincerity. He nods again, grateful… maybe even starting to trust the man.
But what Dick doesn't notice—
—as Pauline pats his shoulder…
—is the small black disc he leaves behind, barely the size of a button, clipped beneath the collar seam of Dick's coat.
"You should disappear for a few days. Lay low. I'll handle the fallout." Pauline tells dick.
"I'll torch the truck on my way out. Find a quiet spot out by the docks or the Narrows." Dick tells him
Pauline gives him a tight nod, lighting a cigarette."Stay in touch. You know… when you're ready."
Dick gives him one last glance before walking toward the truck—unaware of the tracker pulsing faintly with each step he takes.
INT. DOCTOR'S HOUSE – CONTINUOUS
The doctor leans over Sam, stitching him up carefully.
"We… make it?" Sam said weakly.
"You did. Barely." The doctor told him.
Pauline at the porch, watching the truck disappear into the night.
His cigarette burns slowly between his fingers."Let's see where you really run to… Grayson."
INT. THE BELFRY – NIGHT
Rain patters softly against the Belfry windows. The halls are quiet, only the low hum of computers and distant city noise filling the silence.
The elevator dings.
Dick stumbles in, his coat soaked, blood staining the edges, his face pale. He moves with the weary grace of a man held together by sheer will.
Barbara looks up from her console. Her expression is stern—until she sees him.
Her breath catches. She wheels toward him slowly, saying nothing. She'd prepared a hundred scoldings, questions, even insults.
But none of them matter now.
"Work." Dick say hoarse, barely audible.
It's all he can manage.
Barbara stops in front of him. She reaches out, her hand brushing against his coat sleeve—and pulls back.
Her fingers are slick with blood.
Her face changes instantly—pain, anger, and heartbreak flicker through her like lightning.
"Oh god… Dick." Barbara said softly.
She rises slightly in her chair, hooking her arms gently around his neck, guiding him down to her level. Her strength isn't in her legs—but it's in her heart, and tonight that's all he needs.
Dick drops to his knees in front of her, resting his head against her shoulder.
They hold each other there—wounded, silent, whole in each other's arms.
After a long pause…
"Marry me." Dick whispers into her ear.
Barbara stiffens for only a second—then exhales a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
"Okay." Barbara whispers
Dick lets out the faintest laugh—a rasp, barely there. But in that moment, despite the chaos and blood and secrets wrapped around their lives…
They are safe.
They are real.
They are together.