#henching

"Hollow walls." The Not-Hench said, like it needed explaining. "Same way people forget to look up, they keep forgetting that there can be space between rooms."

"Fair enough," Robin allowed, "But how the hell did you know about them?" The Not-Hench had already started to venture ahead. The small penlight dangling from his neck didn't do much more than just let Robin know where he was. Otherwise, the guy seemed to be navigating solely by feel. (Or memory. (Which brings up its own set of additional questions))

"Read about them." For a second, Robin thought he was going to need to start prying full answers out of him by force, but as if he sensed the irritation, the Not-Hench continued, "There was a smuggling ring that busted here in the 70s. Police had kept sweeping this block of warehouses for months but never saw anyone despite there obviously being evidence that people were there. Someone finally thought to check the walls and low-and-behold, a shit-ton of weed, cocaine, weapons, and the guys responsible for repackaging it all. "Rats In Walls Police Crow", Gotham Gazette, July 12th, 1972."

---

"Wait," Fred interrupted, "You had it memorized?"

Conrad groaned, "No, I didn't have it memorized, it was just fresh in my mind from reading it a week earlier because-"

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"-he'd been checking into the location the security company worked out of to make sure it wasn't a known, put into his own words, 'Lairhouse'" Tim mimed the same air-quotes the Not-A-Hench (Apparently named Conrad (update mental file)) used back then too.

"Sorry," Steph leaned forward with a grin, "Lair-house?"

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"A warehouse that's notorious for being used by Rogues. It's just a thing, I didn't come up with it." Conrad couldn't believe he was having to explain this one to actual professional vigilantes.

"I've never heard that phrasing before in my life." Arsenal said slowly. "Is it just a Gotham thing?"

Kori hmmed as she daintily plucked a chicken wing from the basket, "If it is, I would be willing to bet the money it was coined by-"

---

"-Robin about a decade ago." Bruce grumbled to himself. Over his shoulder, the Batcomputer showed the front page of the Gotham Gazette from July 12th, 1972. Two Gotham Police officers posed with big shit-eating grins around a hole they'd knocked into a warehouse wall. Inside, three dusty men with expressions raging from simmering rage to numb acceptance looked anywhere but the camera. 'RATS IN WALLS, POLICE CROW!" read the headline.

"A few of Joker's minions overheard him and started using it themselves. It's since spread throughout Gotham's criminal vernacular."

"Oooooh. It was a Greyson-ologism, that explains it." Steph nodded sagely.

"Anyways," Tim said, struggling to get everything back on track and finished as quickly as possible, "He'd been reading up on it because-"

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"-I was trying to avoid this exact fucking thing!" Not-A-Hench did like his swearing, Robin was noting. He wasn't overly creative with it, but he did like it. "Five times, I asked Ricardo, five. 'This isn't a front for anything Batman's going to get pissed about, is it?' I asked. 'There's not some mob boss or guy in a costume at the top of the org chart here, is there?' I asked, and each and every time that smug motherfucker lied to my goddamn face! Unbelievable!"

"Well," Robin said, probably more sourly than he needed to, but he had just gotten a mouth-full of cobweb and still had no idea where they were groping their way towards, "it might just be my personal biases talking, but I've come to the conclusions that mooks are generally pretty untrustworthy sources for those sorts of questions."