Becoming Nightshade

The Mustang sat quietly at the edge of the secluded lookout, its metallic frame catching faint glimmers of moonlight. Beyond the windshield stretched the breathtaking expanse of Gotham's glittering skyline, a thousand city lights reflecting off the gentle ripples of the river below. The hum of the engine had faded long ago, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves in the cool night air. Inside, the space between Jason and Maggie seemed charged, electric. Her gaze lingered on the curve of his jaw, the way his dark lashes cast shadows over his sharp, focused eyes. Jason shifted slightly, the leather of his jacket creaking faintly, but his attention stayed on her—his usual bravado stripped away by something more vulnerable. When their eyes met, the world seemed to shrink, the city below vanishing into insignificance. Jason's breath hitched, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he leaned in, slowly at first, testing the waters, his lips brushing against hers with a feather-light touch. It was soft, tentative—a question—and Maggie answered without hesitation, tilting her face toward his as their kiss deepened. The warmth of his hand slid along her jawline, steadying her as if he feared she might pull away. But Maggie didn't. She moved closer, her body drawn to his like a moth to a flame. Her fingers traced up the back of his neck, slipping beneath his jacket collar to tangle gently in his hair. His touch grew firmer, the kiss more urgent, as though the quiet night itself couldn't contain what they felt in that moment.

"Jason…" Maggie breathed against his lips, her voice barely a whisper, but the need in it was undeniable. Her hand slid down to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

He pulled her closer, his arms encircling her waist, every movement speaking of both passion and restraint. The line between the two blurred with each passing second as the kiss deepened, a heat building between them that rivaled the glow of the city lights outside. The cool air around them seemed distant, irrelevant compared to the warmth they found in each other. Maggie's breath hitched as Jason's lips trailed softly down her jawline to her neck as his hand slips up her shift, her fingers tightening in his hair as her heartbeat quickened. Every touch, every stolen breath felt-Suddenly, his phone buzzed, the shrill vibration & a rock song ring tune cutting through the moment like a knife. Jason groaned, leaning back to fish the phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen, his annoyance immediately turning to dread.

"It's Alfred," he said, his voice heavy.

Maggie sighed, resting her head against the seat. "Of course, it is. He has *impeccable* timing."

Jason swiped to answer, putting the phone to his ear. "Yeah, Alf?"

Alfred's voice was calm but urgent. "Master Jason, all hands are needed at the Batcave. Master Bruce has requested everyone's presence immediately."

Jason frowned. "What's going on?"

"I'm afraid I can't discuss it over the phone. Just get here as quickly as you can—and bring Miss Maggie."

Jason glanced at Maggie, who had already started fixing her shirt.

"Understood," Jason replied, ending the call. He looked at Maggie, apologetic. "Guess the Bat-signal's calling us both."

Maggie nodded, already pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "Let's go, Jay. We can pick this up later."

Jason smirked, "You better believe we will."

Jason's car screeched to a halt inside the Batcave's subterranean entrance. The dim lighting illuminated the familiar cavernous expanse, with the glowing Bat computer at the center and various vehicles and equipment scattered around. Maggie and Jason stepped out of the car; their earlier closeness replaced by a palpable tension as they approached the others. Bruce stood at the Bat computer, his cape draped over his shoulders, projecting the image of the Dark Knight even without the cowl. Dick leaned casually against the console, but his posture betrayed his concern. Alfred, as always, was the picture of calm, standing nearby with his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're late," Bruce said, his tone even but carrying an edge.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Traffic was a nightmare." He gave Maggie a quick smirk, earning a small eye-roll in return.

Bruce didn't respond, his piercing gaze shifting to Maggie for a moment before returning to the monitor. Maggie kept her expression neutral, hiding the unease that always surfaced when Bruce looked at her like that—like he knew more than he was letting on.

"What's going on?" Jason asked, crossing his arms.

Bruce gestured toward the Bat computer screen, where a map of Gotham lit up, marked with red dots. "In the last 48 hours, multiple people have gone missing from different parts of the city. No connection between the victims—different socioeconomic backgrounds, different neighborhoods—but one thing in common: witnesses claim shadows took them."

"Shadows?" Maggie asked, her voice was steady, but her heart began to race. She glanced at Jason, whose expression was equally confused.

Dick straightened, adding, "And not just 'it was dark, and I couldn't see them' shadows. We're talking actual moving, grabbing shadows. At least according to the witnesses."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Are we dealing with meta-human kidnappers or something supernatural?"

Bruce's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's unclear. What's strange is that the areas where the disappearances happened show no signs of struggle, no physical evidence left behind—nothing."

Maggie shifted uncomfortably, feeling Bruce's eyes flicker toward her again, though he didn't say anything directly. *He can't know… can he?*

Jason spoke up, breaking the silence. "Do we have surveillance footage, anything?"

Bruce turned back to the screen, typing something into the console. "One witness described seeing the shadows come alive wrapping around the victim and pulling them into the darkness before vanishing completely."

Maggie felt her stomach drop. She fought to keep her face neutral, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her. She was sure Jason noticed because he glanced at her, his expression questioning.

"And we're sure this isn't just someone with a vendetta and a smoke machine?" Jason asked, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

"No," Bruce replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for humor.

Maggie spoke up, her voice carefully measured. "Do you think it's someone using tech? Shadows don't just… move on their own."

Bruce's gaze flickered to her again, and this time, Maggie felt the weight of it. She stiffened, her mind racing with possibilities. He had to know something—or at least suspect.

"It's too early to say," Bruce replied finally, his voice calm but laced with something Maggie couldn't quite place. He didn't say it, but she could feel it: he was holding something back. Something he wasn't saying aloud, at least not yet.

Alfred cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Master Bruce, do you have a plan for how to investigate these occurrences further?"

Bruce nodded. "We'll split up. Dick, you and Jason take the east side of the city. Focus on gathering intel and talking to witnesses. I'll take the west side." He paused, his eyes landing on Maggie. "Maggie, you'll stay here. I need someone here to assist Alfred and monitor the Bat computer while we're in the field."

Maggie opened her mouth to protest, but Jason gave her a subtle shake of his head, silently telling her to let it go. She bit back her retort, nodding stiffly instead.

"Fine," she said, folding her arms. "But don't expect me to just sit here and do nothing."

"Good," Bruce replied, turning back to the monitor. "Let's move."

As Jason and Dick suit up and followed Bruce. Maggie stayed behind with Alfred. She could feel Alfred's watchful gaze on her as the others departed.

"Miss Maggie," Alfred said gently, his voice low enough not to carry. "If there's anything you feel you need to share, now might be a good time."

Maggie's jaw tightened, but she forced a small smile. "Thanks, Alfred. I'll let you know."

As the cave fell silent, Maggie's thoughts raced. If Bruce suspected her shadow abilities, he hadn't outright said it—but she could feel the weight of his unspoken suspicion.

Maggie sat in the dim glow of the Bat computer's monitors, the quiet hum of the cave filling the air. Alfred stood nearby, occasionally checking in but mostly letting her work. The screens were filled with data—maps of Gotham, profiles of the missing, and live feeds from the team in the field. She tried to focus, but there was an odd sensation tugging at her—an inexplicable pull, like an invisible thread drawing her attention away from the screen and toward a specific thought. Her chest tightened as she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shake it it came again. A strong, almost physical sense of *someone*—a presence. A flicker of an image flashed in her mind: an old, crumbling building in the Narrows. She didn't recognize it, but somehow, she *knew* that was where she needed to go. Maggie blinked, her hand gripping the edge of the console. She glanced at Alfred, who was busy organizing supplies on a nearby table.

"Alfred," she said, her voice steady but forced. "I need to step out for a bit. I… need some air."

Alfred turned, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Miss Maggie, while I fully understand the need for fresh air, I must remind you that Master Bruce instructed you to remain here."

Maggie stood, smoothing her shirt to keep her hands from trembling. "I know, but I just need a quick breather. I won't go far."

Alfred studied her carefully, his sharp eyes seeming to look right through her. "Might I suggest taking said breather just outside the cave, where I can ensure your safety?"

She forced a smile, grabbing her phone. "I'll be fine, Alfred. I'll stick close."

"Very well," he said reluctantly, though his tone made it clear he didn't fully buy her excuse. "Please, do not hesitate to call if you need assistance."

Maggie nodded, already heading toward the cave's exit. As soon as she was out of Alfred's line of sight, she broke into a jog, heading for the side entrance that would take her to the surface. She pulled a hoodie from a nearby rack, slipping it over her head and flipping the hood up as she reached one of Bruce's spare motorcycles.

She felt a pang of guilt lying to Alfred, but the pull was too strong to ignore. Something—or someone—was waiting for her, and she couldn't sit by doing nothing.