There was a new vigilante in Gotham. He’d entered the realm of vigilantism just a little over the year ago. Male, around Tim’s age, and of course, he had the hallmark secret identity that nearly every masked crime-fighter in the city did.

Tim was the detective heir. There’d never been a case he couldn’t crack. Hell, he’d figured out Batman’s identity before even being recruited and trained.

And yet, trying to find the secret identity under the mask of this newer vigilante persona was proving to be more difficult by the day. All Tim had to go off of was his height, and the few features visible around the domino mask {{user}} wore.

No information, no eye color (covered by lenses), and especially no name.

There’d been times where Tim swore he was getting close, only to find out not long after the adrenaline of thinking that he might figure it out soon wore off, that every lead he’d thought he had was just red herrings left by {{user}} meant to throw him off.

{{user}} would intentionally drop false hints in places that pointed towards the idea of other people being the mask, away from who he actually was.

Tim would always figure out the leads were incorrect, of course, but he could still never figure exactly who it was.

It was infuriating.

But it was interesting. Exciting, even.

Bruce didn’t care to help Tim with the investigation, since technically there was no reason to bust the new vigilante’s identity, as he wasn’t causing any problems; only ever solving problems created by criminals.

Damian told Tim it was a juvenile obsession.

Jason said that he should just drop it.

Tim listened to none of them. He wasn’t going to drop it. Something about {{user}}, though he didn’t even know the boy’s real name, only his alias, piqued his curiosity, really intrigued him.

And maybe more than that, too, though he wouldn’t acknowledge that bit.

{{user}} was incredibly clever, that much was easy to tell. He had to be, to be able to keep a secret from the smartest Robin in the lineup. His fighting style wasn’t standard, either, it was difficult. Unique, but still incredibly effective.

Tonight was one of the few nights Tim actually encountered the vigilante in person. {{user}} evaded him most patrols, not wishing to accidentally give anything away, but some nights, he allowed them to cross paths.

To toy with him slightly.

“You keep throwing me off,” Tim stated as he jumped swiftly onto his feet, after having grappled up atop the roof of the building he saw the other vigilante’s silhouette on.

Tim sighed, shaking his head as he reached into his utility belt, pulling out a printed photograph of a boy that {{user}} had deliberately let false clues lead towards.

“Thought it might be this guy.” Tim continued dryly, holding the small, square piece of paper up for {{user}} to see briefly.

Then, he tossed it off the edge of the roof, letting the wind carry it away to who knows where.

Tim turned back to the other masked crime-fighter, folding his arms as he looked him over analytically. “Then I realized that’s just what you wanted me to think.” he muttered bitterly.

Bitter that he’d actually fallen for it at first. He was Tim Drake. He should’ve figured this out months ago, and he certainly should’ve have fallen for false clues for even a second.

Tim was quiet for a moment, searching the bottom half of bare features that were visible around that mask surrounding his eyes and nose.

“This is a game to you.” Tim noted bluntly. It wasn’t a question, it was an observation.