The Collector

Chapter Twenty-Five

Authors note: I apologise for the long delay for this chapter. My Grandfather died on Easter Sunday and it hit me really really hard. Thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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The small burn itched insistently beneath the dressing covering his hand. Dick tried to subtly itch it against the side of his thigh.

'It won't heal if you keep doing that.' Bruce said without even glancing in his direction.

'Do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?' Dick grumbled, crossing his arms against his chest. 'Cigarette burns hurt like a bitch then itch just as bad after.'

'Maybe this will take your mind off it,' Bruce pulled up a file on his computer. 'This is the contents of the drive you stole.' Dick leant forward and stared at the screen, he blinked a few times, looking harder until he realised it wasn't his eyes, the contents were in code.

'Can you crack it?'

'I've worked out what kind of code they have used, unfortunately, without the cypher, I can't crack it.' He looked up at the younger. 'It's a live cypher, one that changes every few hours. Mike would have had a device that|
gave him the cypher. Any ideas where he might have kept that?'

'I doubt he would have kept the device and the drive together.' Dick shrugged. 'Mike was many things, but he wasn't stupid.'

'Stupid enough to get himself killed by Joker,' Jason interjected from his seat behind them, his feet resting on the table in front of him.

'Says the person who almost got killed by Joker,' Tim mumbled, earning himself a glare from his brother.

'We've all been there,' said Dick, unconsciously reaching to his shoulder where the scars on his back began. His arms dropped as his mind travelled back to a room from his past. 'There was a safe in his office at Misfits. If I had to make an educated guess, I'd say that was a good place to start.' His fingers began itching at the dressing again.

'We'll have to break into the office. Stop it.' Said Bruce, reaching up and swatting at Dick's hands. 'Probably best to wait until after the club closes, wait for everyone to leave then pick the lock.'

'There is an easier way,' said Dick, ceasing his itching but continuing to flex his injured hand in the hope of easing the irritation. 'I know exactly where to look, it's just a matter of walking in the front door and then sneaking into the office.'

'There is no way in hell you are going to that club.' Bruce said with a sternness that made Dick take a step back.

'Why not? I could be in and out in less than twenty minutes?' His shock from Bruce's stern comment wearing off quickly, he pressed him once again. 'Angel has been avoiding the club like the plague, the office will be empty. It would be easy.'

'Are you forgetting what happened the last time you were there?' Bruce eyed him, watching as faint blush crept up the youngers neck.

'No,' said Dick defiantly despite his obvious embarrassment. 'But I'm not a fragile little flower. It needs doing and I'm the best man for the job.'

'Hate to say it Bruce, but he's got a point.'

'Thank you!' Dick said.

'But you're not going alone,' Jason interrupted. 'I'm going with you.'

'And me,' said Tim.