August 17, 0530h

	Fruitless.
	The search was fruitless.  Not a trace.  Robin-Nightwing, he reminded 
himself ruthlessly.  It had to be Nightwing out here or not at all.  Nightwing 
was flagging and needed to be at his desk first thing the next morning.  
	"Go," he said suddenly.
	"What?"
	"Get home.  You don't have much time."
	"You coming?"  The young man waited for an answer and got none.  "Ok, 
then.  Any word?"
	The line had been active.  He hadn't answered it.
	"None."
	"No news is good news."
	Batman didn't answer and the boy flew away.
	He stayed crouched on his gargoyle, running scenarios, computing 
possibilities, laying plans in his head until something happened and his eyes 
hurt.  His lightning reflexes brought his head to bear on the source of the 
attack.
	The sun was rising, dappled splotches of light racing over the city spread 
out below him.
	It was morning.