By the time Dick Grayson climbed down from the communications tower, dawn was almost breaking.
He had worn two layers of skin off his fingers, and his nails were packed with rust and remnants of insulating adhesive. When he finished splicing the last fiber-optic cable, he did not even have the strength to cheer. He simply sat at the top of the tower for a few minutes, watching the first pale gray light creep over the eastern skyline.
"All done?" Jason asked, looking up from the base of the tower.
Dick did not answer. He just gave him a thumbs-up, climbed down, stuffed the fusion splicer into his backpack, and headed back with Jason and Garfield.
But he soon noticed a vehicle bouncing past them.
It was not a police car, a bus, or any kind of freight truck. It was a monster truck with tires taller than he was, bumping along the cratered road. Shovels and crowbars were piled in the back. The passenger shouted something at him, but he could not make it out. All he saw was the excitement written across the man's face.
"What did he say?"
"He said there's work at the stadium?" said Garfield, who had turned into a mongoose and was lying on Dick's shoulder. "Or something like that?"
"Someone's gathering civilians?"
Dick frowned, took out his communicator, and called twice. As expected, Batman listened in silence, then ended the call without a word.
He sighed, long accustomed to it, and checked his phone. More than twenty previously backed-up texts flooded his inbox at once. Over half were from Barbara. They began with questions-including how he and Gordon were doing-and ended with her saying she would book the earliest flight back.
"Oh, Babs..."
Dick stared at the name on the screen for a