He was perched over a ledge, overlooking the unassuming bistro. Analysis of the last few nights pointed towards this place being the next target. A slew of eateries had been tampered with on the east side of Gotham. A rise in food poisoning cases. The GCPD has been struggling to gather evidence. No signs of breaking and entering. No DNA samples. And security cameras? Disabled. Whoever was behind this, they're intelligent.

He continued to wait. He ignored the cold air against his skin. He had been trained to withstand the harshest of conditions. This weather was a walk in the park.

"Hey D! Sorry for-"

Damian shushes Jon, eyes fixated on a truck that had just parked near the bistro.

"It appears we've got company. How many do we have?" whispered Damian.

"I.. I can't see inside the truck," Jon whispered back.

"Lead-lined? Strange…"

A group of four, dressed in all black, exited the truck. One lock picked the front door. The others shielded him, guns locked and loaded.

"You distract them, I'll investigate the vehicle," Damian said, before scaling down the building.

Jon flew down and landed in front of the men. "Seems like a bit much for a robbery," he spoke to the group. The armed men point their weapons at him. The lock picker turns around, visibly annoyed. "Well, well, well… what do we have here? The boy of steel? In Gotham? Y'a lost or what?" he grinned.

"Actually, I'm here to stop you guys from getting into more trouble," said Jon. "Is that so? Gun him down, boys," the lock picker smirked. The men fired round after round, but Jon stood there, completely unphased. The lock picker facepalmed. "I said to bring the laser guns, you good-for-nothings!"

Meanwhile, Damian had snuck into the truck. He searched around for any hints towards the group's motive. Nothing. Loud noise. The vehicle shakes. Something slammed into the truck. He turned around. Mist. A figure. A blow to the head. Just as darkness engulfed him, the truck took off. Right turn, left turn, left again. He was getting slammed from wall to wall. Some time later, Damian comes to. Slightly dazed, he realized he was still inside the vehicle. He turned on the flashlight built into his insignia. He made his way to the doors. Locked, from the outside.

Jon got up. His body ached. He felt dizzy. Kryptonite gas. Of course they had some form of kryptonite on them. Lead-lined anything was a dead give away. Leaning on a streetlight, he took in his surroundings. The lock picker and his goons were gone. The truck was gone. And Damian was nowhere to be seen.

Jon was panicking internally and externally. Damian was gone. The robbers must have taken him. With his super hearing muffled, he couldn't pinpoint the truck's location. He was still too weak to fly. He looked around and spotted something in a nearby alley. He slowly walked towards it, making out the faint outline of a bike. The muted red tint along with a familiar "R" gave him all the clues he needed: this was the bat-bike.

The bike had a built-in touchscreen. It seemed to have been activated, displaying a GPS map. Jon leaned in to get a closer look. It was tracking something. It was tracking… Robin?! "Don't worry, Dami, I'm coming for you," he thought as he got on the bike and sped off.

Weaving around many cars, Jon raced through the streets of Gotham. Down Avenues and Boulevards, through narrow streets and alleyways, he drove at breakneck speeds. He'd ridden horses. He'd driven tractors. He'd flown. He'd never driven a motorcycle before, and this was one heck of a first time.

The truck was now at a car's length. All he needed to do was get in close and-

The truck doors burst open. Robin stood before him, arms crossed. "Took you long enough, hayseed,"

"How?-"

"I remotely activated the bat-bike and put a tracker onto myself,"

"Ok, but how did you know-"

"Before getting knocked out by one of these imbeciles, I noticed a familiar gas had enveloped the area. I knew you'd catch up,"

"So what's the plan Dami- Robin?"

"We get answers,"

"Alright, Alright! I'll tell!" the lock picker held his hands up in surrender. A katana blade was held against his throat. The truck had been overturned. The three goons had their weapons melted and were being tied up by Superboy.

"Look birdbrat, all I know is we were hired to rob this joint and take you with us. Boss wanted to see ya or something,"

"And who exactly is your boss?" The katana is pressed tighter against his neck.

"Never gave me a name, only a location: 94 Standler Street. It's an abandoned food processing plant on the east side. Now, will ya get the sword off me?"

Robin sheathed his katana and motioned for Superboy to come over. After tying up the locksmith, they head off.

Robin raced through the streets as Superboy flew above him. Standler street… the name rung a bell. They made their way to an industrial complex near the harbour. The processing plant was in sight. A decaying sign on the front read "Frank's". The windows had been broken, the front doors were wide open. The area was covered in shrubbery.

The bat-bike skids to a halt. "Superboy, can you-"

Something roared. A creature came out of the bushes nearby. It was large, shaped like a burger, with leafy tentacles protruding from where the imitation meat patty would be. Red eyes, positioned on the "top bun", stared at them menacingly.

Its tentacles lunged toward Robin, but he dodged them with ease. Superboy flew up and blasted the creature with his heat-vision. Slightly smoking, it lunged toward him. Superboy avoided it. He flew in close and landed a punch, straight in the eye. The creature reeled back in pain, enough time for Robin to have thrown smoke bombs. Impaired by poor visibility, the burger-plant creature found itself quickly encased in ice. As the smoke cleared, the super sons were out of sight.

They ran inside, closing the doors behind them.

"Well, well, well… I see you've met my bodyguard," a man walked out of the shadows.

Robin recognized that voice.

You'll never be able to stop me, Boy Wonder! Soon, Gotham will kneel before-"

"Condiment King"

Robin dashed forward and spin-kicked Condiment King in the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground. A blade was now aimed at his chest.

"How impressive," he huffed, "I knew you'd escape my traps, birdboy, but soon it'll be the end of you, just like your little partner,"

Robin feigned a look of shock. "Why did you do it?" Robin demanded

"Why? So I'd finally gain the respect I deserve! All these years, treated as a joke! Gotham will know my name! They'll fear me, just like all the others! With the Bat outta town, all I need to do is get rid of ol' Boy Blunder and Boy Scout Jr. Nothing can stop me now! I'll relish in my glory-"

"Unfortunately your excellency, your pathetic reign of terror has ended," Robin punched him a few times, sending Condiment King into a coughing fit. "The GCPD will arrive any minute now. We'll just have to restrain you,"

"Wait, we" Condiment King questioned as he caught his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the emblem of a bright red "S" approaching him. "God damnit," he sighed.