#ncatd

So, you take the train departing from the Crime-Alley adjacent neighborhood you reside in heading toward the nicer north-west side of Gotham.

Stepping out of the train station, the area seemed to be the complete opposite of where you were just at eighteen minutes ago.

The streets weren't all that filled with overflowing trashcans and freshly spit gum. In fact, the trashcans looked recently emptied and when you walked, you weren't stumbling over yourself by the overgrown weeds and uneven concrete.

You walked a few blocks until you encounter a block-filled with uniquely decorated buildings that basically called to you. They each looked nice and well-kept. Glued to the window, a red "Michelin Star" sticker. What could be the harm in asking?

The wide-set doors swing right open as you let yourself in. A lady who looked only a few years older than you, hair slicked back in a nastily tight bun greets you alongside the crystal chandeliers staring at you. You don't feel too out of place as your compare your pinstriped set to her sharp uniform.

She gives you a bright smile, "Hi, how can we help you. We aren't open now, but we will be in a few hours."

"I was actually wondering if you had any positions open?"

Your luck seemed on the up lately, as they conveniently had their assistant manager poached from some other restaurant. You had walked up just in time, they put you to work right then, paid a whopping twenty-five dollars per hour–that was just the starting pay.

Obviously you couldn't work long hours because of school, so you negotiated your hours to be during open and not prep hours.

All those hours you worked at the diner back in Smallville seemed to pay off. The tasks weren't too difficult with your prior experience and you got along good with the other employees.

When the night seemed young and when you thought there was nothing that could go wrong, the universe had to prove you wrong. The world seemed to be toying with your feelings, providing you with abundant opportunities–then throwing Timothy Jackson Drake in your face.

Struggling to keep your smile on you face, "Hi, table for two?"

Clad in a sharp black suit, hair styled to perfection, and endless beauty marks staring at you–"I didn't know you worked here."

"This is actually my first day, I hope my service is up to par…Mr. Drake."

You have a tight-lipped smile to his date. Blonde. Green eyes. "I'd like to apologize for your shirt–you know I could um," he clears his throat, "get you a new one? or perhaps I could run it to the drycleaners."

He offers you his business card and a smile. Glancing down at his card, you provide the menu to him and his date instead. "Please do not patronize me on the clock, Tim. I'd rather not associate myself with those who only are sorry when they're held accountable."

You look away, huffing as he raised his eyebrows. "You called me Tim…"

"Okay well, Denise will be your waitress for the night–" "Well, why can't you wait us?"

You inhale sharply, eye twitching. "I am not a waiter, but if Denise does give satisfying service tonight for you and your date, I can absolutely get another server for you!"

After an excruciating two and a half hours of watching Tim Drake on his date, alongside him pestering you every 15 minutes to refill his drink or ask you for a recommendation on the menu. Asking specifically you where the bathroom was or to give his compliments to the chef.

It wouldn't be a surprise if he didn't get a second date with how much he was trying to talk to you rather than get to know his actual date.

Flopping down on your bare, small twin bed, you feel your phone rapidly buzzing. Swiping up on your older sister's call, you are met with a graphic of her and your precious cat.

Your beautiful American Shorthaired orange tabby, Royal Chili Lisa Gilroy Jennie Thermopolis. She was your 15th birthday present, so naturally, you and each of your siblings all chipped in when naming her… you all mostly call her Thermos.

Cooing at the screen, you adjusted yourself, "Hello my precious little baby."

"Hi Ate, what's up," you finally addressed your sister, "Where are you two?"

It looked like she was walking the streets of who-knows-where. Struggling to hold your little cat in her hands as well as her phone, she strains out, "Open your door."

You sit up. "Are you here right now?"

Rushing to the door you look through the peephole to be met with a fish-eye view of your sister and a ball of orange hair. Squealing, you open the door wide. "You shouldn't have."

You giggle, ushering them into your very blank apartment. Grabbing your cat and smothering her with kisses, you looked around. "Sorry, I haven't had time to furnish or… I mean the floor is clean."

She shrugs and sits down with you on the floor. Thermos in your lap, your sister in your new apartment–you feel a swell in your chest.

"Did you seriously come halfway across the country just for me?"

You grinned widely as her face fell flat with sarcasm. "No."

Humming at that, you mindlessly pet Thermos as she purrs into your hand. "I didn't know they let animals on the train." "I kept her on leash."

"Sooo, how's Nanay and Tatay?"

She sighs, "You know the parents. Right now they're trying to convince Bubs to stay home for college… even though she's been looking at Central City College."

You purse your lips, nodding. That checks out, after you didn't stay home… they didn't take it well. Not to mention how they never seemed to acknowledge your relationship with Erin. Bubs was the next child down the line, so they'd want to keep a semblance of control to keep her in Smallville.

After spending the next day with your sister, you walked her to her 9PM train, but not without reminding her there was always a room for her if she ever needed an escape from the parents. She took on a heavy burden–staying home to protect the kids but sacrificing a chance for her to truly explore who she was without the restraints our parents held.

That whole day with your sister made you remember the reason to keep going. After a week of classes, a piece from home was exactly what you needed… even though not all reminders from home were so pleasant as your orange ball of fur was.

The street lights were now shining bright on top of you as you walked back to your apartment. It wasn't worth it to use your subway card for only a measly 15 blocks… although, your feet were killing you.

As the cold air blows past, you shiver, regretting this morning outfit decisions. Probably also your choice in shoes. Maybe you shouldn't have chosen to wear Mary Janes to walk around the city with your sister.

It felt as if your feet were on fire. Thankfully, you spotted a bench by a building. The cold air bites your ears as you make your way over until the gusts of wind are not the only sounds you hear.

Sounds of muffled distress come out of a nearby alley, grabbing your attention. Rushing over, you encounter a woman–uncomfortably accompanied. One very pierced man, a hand groping her from behind–the other latched onto her mouth. The second tattooed and stroking her hair from the front.

The tattooed one whips his head around and makes eye contact with you. This month has officially broken your record of the most crimes encountered in all your years in living in a city. After the last time, you came prepared. Grabbing your keys slyly, you grab onto your red taser.

"Hey there pretty lady." The pierced one raises an eyebrow at you.

"Let her go," you call out, standing your ground as the tattooed one makes his way towards you. "It'll be okay," you tell the girl. He snickers, now only three feet away from you. "There's always room for one more."

In an instant, you slide forward, tasing him straight to the neck. At the same time, a blur of red and black followed with a cape falls down from a rooftop, knocking the pierced aggressor with a bow right to the ground.

The girl sprints straight to you, shaken, tears falling. You embrace her, smoothing down her hair in a comforting manner. You whisper calming words to her and watch as the red vigilante makes his way over to the two of you. "Are you ladies alright?"

You nod, "I'm okay, I don't know about her though."

Pulling back and pushing away her tears, you rub her arms. "What's your name sweetie?"

She seemed younger, smaller. Way too young to experience any of this. Your internal training kicks in–you need to protect this girl and soothe her. She sniffles slightly, "Cindy."

Offering a smile, you ask where she lives. You can feel the intense gaze of the masked vigilante. As if he's carefully analyzing you.

You've already decided you were gonna walk her home, but that damn vigilante is staring at you like a strange weirdo. "Which vigilante are you?"

He looks left and right before pointing to himself, confused. "Uh–Red Robin?"

The one Tim was glazing the other day? "Why do you say it like a question?"

"Sorry–I. Yes. Red Robin reporting for duty."

He offers you a goofy salute. "Are you gonna ensure we get home safely Burger Boy?"

He nods intently, "Ye–Burger Boy?"

You purse your lips. "We gotta get this young lady home, correct?"

"If you ever need anything, call this number." You hand Cindy your business card. She grabs you into an embrace quickly, thanking you profusely while Red Robin just stands to the side.

Watching Cindy disappear into her building, you turn homewards and–"Is it because of the other Red Robin?"

You turn slowly, staring blankly at the vigilante on your tail. "Can I help you?"

He purses his lips into a line, falling into step with you, "It's just that–you called me 'Burger Boy.'"

You stride faster, but that only spurs him on. "Are you seriously following me?" "You wanted to get home safely, correct?"

This caused you to scratch the back of your head, "I guess."

He hums softly at your response. "How come you named yourself after a Burger Joint…?"

You watch smugly, seemingly hitting a sore spot as he furrows his eyebrows. "I don't–it just stuck I guess."

Hmm. "Well, anyways thank you for saving Cindy. You can leave me now."

You glance down as his feet keep up to your very insistent pace. He looks down at you, "I think i'm gonna bring your home safely."

Sighing, you slow. The weight of the day is felt on your feet once again when you wince. The masked man glances back at you, concerned, "Are you injured?"

You blink, "Uhh, no. My feet just hurt." He nods. "Hold on."

Inching back, confused, he clarifies. "Like onto me. Wait where do you live?"

Telling him your address, he takes in the information and wraps his hand modestly around your waist. In a flash, you are airborne fast as the grappling hook takes you from one block to another in 5 seconds flat. You giggle to yourself, the forces making your tummy tumble up and down. The wind in your hair and feet relieved.

In a couple of minutes you're set in front of your apartment complex. Dazed, you grab onto the vigilante to stabilize yourself. "Wow, that was fun."

He chuckles at you, grabbing your arms to ensure you don't fall. "Phew, that was something."

Pursuing his lips and restraining from laughing too hard, he replies, " You've mentioned."

"Okay–well, thank you for all your help tonight Burger Boy."

Rolling his eyes in resignation, he releases your arms as you back up till you reach your doorstep. "Have a good night," he calls out your name.

"I'll try, Burger Boy."

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