Four figures shifted in the darkness of the cave. Dick straightened from his casual lean against the T-Rex. Tim's fingers stilled on his own keyboard. Jason, who'd been cleaning a disassembled pistol, slowly set the pieces down.

The command was unnecessary. They'd already decided. The mystery of Damian's weekly disappearances had become an itch none of them could scratch. Concern, sharp and familial, had overridden any notion of privacy.

Damian slipped through a broken section of chain-link fence, disappearing into the skeletal remains of a factory. The Batfamily settled on surrounding rooftops, night vision lenses focused on the gaping doorway he'd entered.

The word, clear even through the rain and distance, hit the listening Batfamily with the force of a physical blow.

The hooded figure reached up and pushed the fabric back. The face revealed in the dim light was one they all knew. One they'd mourned. One they'd searched for until even hope had grown thin and brittle.