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Spencer’s all but twitching with nerves by the time the elevator opens. He hasn’t wanted to pry, but it makes him nervous to have a new element on the team. And yeah, the last addition was Emily, and she’s pretty much the best, but. You never know.
Penelope’s waiting for him in the hallway with a cup of coffee, and he lets her hug him, because coffee, before they start walking.
“So? How’s the new guy?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” she says, grinning in a way he doesn’t know how to interpret. “He’ll totally be an asset to the team, though. Or… well. He definitely has certain assets.”
Spencer frowns to himself. “What does that even —”
“Oh! Hey! Speak of the devil!” Penelope says brightly, gesturing at a small cluster of people lingering at the other end of the hallway. All except one are women, and Spencer’s almost certain that none of them work on this floor. “Hey, new guy!”
The man turns around and aims a dazzling megawatt smile in his direction, and Spencer’s mouth drops open.
“I know, right?” Penelope mutters in an undertone. In her normal voice, she says, “Doctor Spencer Reid, meet —”
“You’re Dick Grayson,” Spencer blurts out, voice cracking.
“Guilty as charged!” He sticks out his hand to shake and gives Spencer another disarming smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“You were — your family was the Flying Graysons! Um. Well, you know that, I just mean — I saw you. With your family. Oh, I don’t shake hands, sorry.”
“Deep breaths, Boy Wonder,” Penelope advises, and Grayson’s face does a funny little spasm before he plasters on the smile again. “Right, shall we?”
The moment Penelope says “Gotham,” everybody is wincing.
“I hate that fucking city,” Emily grumbles.
“I’ve never been,” Spencer volunteers.
“It’s a rite of passage,” Morgan says. “Everybody remembers their first Gotham case.”
Hotch’s mouth is even more of a flat line than usual. “What now?”
“Buckle up, my sweets,” Penelope says. “This guy managed to take out eight of the city’s crime bosses in a single night, collected their heads in a duffel bag as a gift to the other crime bosses, and he’s not showing any signs of slowing down.”
“Why are we being called in, though?” JJ asks. “Doesn’t Gotham have a pretty strict locals only policy?”
“Apparently Gotham PD has reason to believe he’s targeting someone personally,” Penelope says. “None other than Batman.”
“ Batman ?” Emily scoffs. “I thought that was a myth.”
“At this point I’ll turn the mic over to our resident expert on all things Spook City — got anything to add, new kid?”
Everybody turns to Grayson, who’s wearing a carefully neutral expression. “No, the Batman is… very real. But — the alias is what I’m curious about.”
Hotch raises an eyebrow. “Red Hood?”
“According to witnesses it’s a reference to his helmet,” JJ reads from the dossier.
“It could be,” Grayson says hesitantly. “But — it could also be a reference to an old gang. The Red Hood gang.”
“How old are we talking? Is there any chance he was an original member?” Morgan asks.
“Possible, but unlikely,” Grayson says. “They were… short-lived, not particularly notable, except for one member. That’s where the Joker got his start.”
There’s a chorus of groans all around the table, and Emily mutters, “God, I fucking hate clowns.”
Hotch looks displeased (even on the usual scale of Hotch’s facial expressions, which is saying something) as he dismisses them with a curt, “Wheels up in twenty. Everybody should pack a gas mask.”