The abrupt, shrill ringing of the phone brought Dick Grayson reluctantly back to consciousness and reality. Reaching for the phone, a glass of water overturned, soaking the nightstand.

"Shit."

"Better not let Alfred hear you say that."

"Bruce? Uggg, what time is it?"

"Time for you to get up. I need you back in Gotham."

Dick Grayson rolled over, slamming a pillow over his head.

"Nothing new there." He mumbled.

"What was that? Maybe I should have a talk with Alfred, about your earlier use of objectionable language."

"Uh, I said, I'll be right there Bruce. No need to do anything drastic."

"Good man. See you in an hour. Oh and Dick, bring your guitar."

Before Dick could reply the phone was dead and Dick knew his countdown to get to Gotham was underway.

"Okay, so what's this big urgent case that couldn't wait long enough for me to get some sleep?"

Bruce pretended not to hear Dick's obvious objections as he handed his partner his new uniform.

"What is this for?" Dick asked with a growl.

"You are going undercover as a guitarist. The band at the club, uh, suddenly lost theirs last night."

"Oh man! What did you do to him?"

"I merely suggested he take a vacation, quickly and quietly."

Smiling, Dick gave his new uniform a once over. Suddenly his good humor came to a screeching halt.

"Cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat? Have you lost your mind?" Dick's voice was several octaves higher than usual causing Alfred to stifle a laugh.

"It's not a ten gallon hat, Dick. It's a normal cowboy hat. You used to like them as I recall."

"Oh yeah rite! Like maybe when I was ten! This is ridiculous."

"Glad you approve, go get changed and be quick about it." Bruce's tone left no room for questioning him. Dick rolled his eyes and going into the bathroom, he came out a cowboy.

Alfred and Bruce exchanged looks as the reluctant hero came into view.

"Smile." Alfred quickly clicked the camera, blinding Dick in the process.

"I'll never forgive either one of you for this." He growled.

The rusted out, thirty year old pickup truck pulled into the parking lot of Sleepy-eyed John's. The club was a rough country western bar, along the western border of Gotham City. Bruce decided to touch on the job once more, despite Dick's arguing.

"Remember, this place is the roughest club in the county, and quite possibly the entire state. Watch yourself at ALL times."

"Yes mother."

"DICK."

"Okay, it's a rough place, I got it. Can we go in now?"

"If you see any drugs going down you pull on your ear, like Carol Burnett used to."

"Carol who?"

"You know, I'm really worried about your generation."

"Thanks pardner." Dick emphasized with an exaggerated southern drawl. "I'm worried about ya'lls too."

"You go in there talking like that and you'll get us both killed."

"Stop worrying! Geesh! Okay, I'm Tommy and you're my cousin Bobby. Hey wait, we aren't married are we?"

"WHAT?"

"Don't these people always marry their cousins?" Dick asked innocently.

"I can't believe you just said that. Shut up and get inside."

"I was just asking cause if we're married we should hold hands or something." Dick teased, enjoying Bruce's rising temper.

"Now I remember why I fired you."

"Oooh that's cold! That's it; I'm finding a divorce lawyer while we're here. I don't have to take this from you."

Bruce shoved Dick hard, slamming him into the doorway of the club as his answer.

The small box shaped club, was quite literally what Dick would have called a 'hole in the wall'. Jam-packed with standing room only, the club had an atmosphere of defiance immediately. Add to that the loud laughter of women who had a little too much happy sauce and the five or so fights that were going on at different tables, mix well and you had The Sleepy-eyed John Club.

A feeling of uneasiness crept up Dick's spine but he refused to acknowledge it. Pushing their way towards the bar, they finally got close enough to yell a request to see the band about an audition.

"I'll tell them you're here. Whata you have?"

"Two beers, whatever special you got on tap." Bruce answered. Dick was amazed how he managed to fit into any environment with ease. Bruce's stance sent a definite 'don't mess with me' message. Dick relaxed, fairly confident that whatever came up, the two together could handle.

"Who sent ya?" A hefty voice demanded. Dick turned to see a huge man glaring at him. The man was well over six foot tall and somewhere in the four hundred pound range. Tattoos labeled his arms from the shoulder to the fingertips. Bruce poked Dick in the back to nudge him to respond.

"My cousin said you might be needing a guitar player. Name's Tommy Stone. This here is my other cousin Bobby."

The man divided his suspicious glare between them.

"You a cop?" He demanded.

"Him? Naw, no way. He ain't got the brains for it." Bruce injected, earning himself an 'I'll get you for that' look from his partner.

"Just the same, we got to check ya." Moving closer the big man attempted to touch Dick. Dick blocked him immediately.

"I don't think so. You're not my type slim." Dick heard Bruce groan as the big man's fist came up, hell bent on squashing Dick into the flooring. Stepping in front of the fist, Bruce offered a solution.

"Why not have that cute dish over there check him out? He's a little sensitive about guys touching him since he did sixteen months at Blackgate. You understand."

The man lowered his fist but continued his glare.

"He did sixteen months at Blackgate? He doesn't even look old enough to be in here."

"He started young. What can I tell ya?" Bruce picked his beer up and looked away, seemingly disinterested with the entire situation.

"Dottie, come check this kid out."

From a few feet away, a bleach blonde with way too much make-up on smiled. Appearing at least forty years passed her prime, she looked Dick up and down and with a suggestive tone agreed.

"I'll be happy to."

As Dick/Tommy was led backstage to meet the band, Bruce/Bobby went about working the crowd for information. His sources had told him that The Sleepy-Eyed John club was being used as front to sell narcotics. The sell of one particular drug had gotten the Batman's attention. The drug was new to the market and had already cost lives. Dragon Ice was the name on the streets. Making a few discreet inquires from one pretty lady to the next, Bruce/Bobby made his way through the bar. Finally, just before Dick walked up, a tall brunette with a mouth full of teeth offered her services.

"I can probably get you set up. It'll cost you though. It doesn't come cheap."

"What don't come cheap?" Dick asked.

"Nothing kid, nothing comes cheap. Why don't you run along and play your guitar, me and the lady got some talking to do." Bruce dismissed Dick as if he were a small child. Reaching over Bruce smiled at the waitress as he handed her a tip.

"K, guess I'll go play guitar." Dick growled. Walking towards the stage, he found his way to be blocked by the bleach blonde from earlier. Dick glanced over at Bruce, who had an attractive brunette in his lap and a pretty blonde leaning over his shoulder. Looking again at the aging groupie before him, he lowered his head and shook it. "It's not fair," he whispered.

After finishing the second set with the band, Dick searched what was left of the crowd for signs of his partner. He didn't find any. After a second look proved futile, he started getting worried.

"Hey, slim, you seen my cousin lately?"

The tattooed man studied him so long that Dick thought he wasn't going to answer.

"Parking lot with Jennie Sue." Came the only reply.

After two trips around the parking lot and still no sign of him Dick decided to go to the truck. As he approached it he saw the door was half open and two sets of feet were sticking out. Giggling and cooing could be heard above the truck radio, playing of course, Country Music. Dick opened the door and cleared his throat. The two lovers looked up and the pretty blonde waitress from earlier reached to straighten her blouse.

"Bobby, you about ready? You know we've got that roofing job we can't be late for."

"Yeah." Came an aggravated reply.

"Will I see you tomorrow Bobby?"

"You can count on it darling." Bruce/Bobby kissed the waitress again, holding the kiss until she had to come up for air.

"Your cousin's a great kisser." She giggled as she pulled back from Bruce and ran passed Dick.

"I don't believe this!" Dick growled, crawling behind the wheel of the truck and forcefully slamming the door.

"Stop whining. I saw her buy a few hits of Dragon Ice. She had it in her jeans pocket. I had to get a sample for analysis. It's the only way to see what it is we're dealing with here." Bruce pulled the sample out of his jeans, looking very satisfied.

"So you seduced her?"

"Oh please. I asked the bar keep how much longer the band had. He said two songs max. So I led her out here. Didn't have time to do much seducing." Dick thought he heard just a twinge of disappointment in Bruce's voice.

"You get pretty waitress's, I get a hee haw reject who's old enough to be my grandmother."

"Is there a problem?" Bruce asked innocently.

"Grrrrrr" Dick answered.

"So what have we got?" Dick asked for the third time in five minutes. Bruce looked up from the microscope and refocused his eyes.

"Nasty little drug. If a person were to stick to one or two of these pills, the effect would be a severe high. Three to five would induce a severe high, followed by a numbness of all the senses. The victim would be helpless and experiencing hallucinations and possible bouts of dangerous paranoia."

"More than five?"

"More than five, results would probably vary, some experiencing convulsions, some would lapse into a coma. All would be dead within an hour, unless vomiting was induced immediately."

"And the kids at the party last week?"

"They were seen popping Dragon Ice like it was candy."

"Those poor kids."

"There's more victims were they came from. We've got to stop this Dick. Kids just don't realize how dangerous drugs really are. The supplier can literally put anything in these drugs and sell it. Marketing it as 'cool'."

"How many have died so far?"

"Eleven that I know of. We have to stop this madness. TONIGHT!"

Dick watched as Bruce threw the microscope across the room. The loud crash echoed in the caverns below Wayne Manor, as frightened Bats fluttered overhead.

"You're late!" Slim shouted as the two made their way inside the bar.

"Sorry, damn truck wouldn't start." Dick answered. He felt Bruce's stare and knew he would be catching it later about his language. Pushing his way to the stage, Dick left Bruce on his own.

"Where's Jennie Sue?" Bruce asked.

"Some of the boys are having fun with her. She's in the back if you wanna go on in." Slim pointed to a door behind the bar and Bruce followed it. Slim closed the door behind him, locking it with Slim still on the outside.

The men inside didn't notice Bruce as he came up behind them. They were to into beating and raping a frightened, stoned waitress. The anger that welled up inside Bruce was explosive. Taking a pool stick, Bruce slammed two bystanders before they had time to look up. After that Bruce was jumped by five more. Kicking and punching his way through them, he reached the offender, pulling him off the crying waitress. With a few strategic punches, Bruce soon had the offender ready to cooperate.

"How many?"

"What?"

"Dragon Ice. HOW MANY did you give her?"

"I don't know man, a hand full." Bruce punched the man's face with a force so hard that his entire head flew backwards. Dropping him, he quickly made his way to Jennie. When Slim opened the door, the room was full of unconscious men and Bruce/Bobby was holding the waitress in his arms.

"Call an ambulance!" Bruce screamed.

"Not likely." Slim answered back, closing the door and locking it from the other side.

The pretty young girl, who couldn't have been over twenty-five, squeezed Bruce's hand as tears streamed down her face. He saw the realization dawn in her soft blue eyes that she was dying. Holding her to him, he rocked her softly as she went.

With a nod from Slim, the leader of the band closed up the music set. Dick had no idea why the change, especially since they had only performed a few songs. Heading offstage, Dick was stopped by Slim.

"Boys, we've got ourselves a mole. Feed him to the Dragon and drop him in the river."

"You got it boss."

"Wait!" Dick yelled as the band members grabbed him by the arm. "What's going on? I'm not a, what'd you call me?"

"MOLE."

"Man, I don't know what the deal is but I ain't done nothing."

"Maybe not, but your cousin has and you're guilty by association."

Dick fought to get free but a guitar upside his head ended his protests. As he was slipping into unconsciousness, Slim forced some Dragon Ice down his throat. Dick tried to spit them back out, but they held his head back and forced his mouth shut. As Dick slumped forward the band members carried him out the back door, to the river that flowed just behind the club.

"I left him in the back room. Finish him and feed the fish with him like you did his cousin."

Opening up the door behind the bar, Slim and the band were surprised to see a room full of men that had been tied up with phone cord. The waitress lay on the floor covered with only the shirt that Bruce/Bobby had on earlier. Bruce himself was nowhere to be found.

"That guy's got to be a cop. Find him!"

Before the band had a chance, police sirens were descending on the club in large numbers. Slim cut the men loose that had been bound with phone cord and together along with the band, they took cover behind the bar. Firing back at the police, Slim refused to surrender until the last bullet was fired. By then it was too late as they all lay dead on the club floor.

Running down the steep incline to the river below, Bruce stumbled, cursing himself for not being faster. He could barely make out Dick's figure from the moonlight as it shown on the water. He ran hurriedly down the wooden dock and jumped in. Freezing cold, the liquid took Bruce's breath away for a moment. He continued, swimming harder than he thought possible to reach Dick in time. The closer he got to Dick, the more he realized that Dick was in fact upright in the water. As he reached him, he pulled him close.

"Dick, you okay?"

With no answer given, Bruce reached for a pulse. Dick was semi-aware of his protector but suddenly fought hard against him.

"Dick, it's me. Dick!"

Thrashing and lashing out, Dick screamed, as Bruce held onto him even tighter. A realization hit Bruce with a thunderous jolt.

"Dragon Ice! Oh GOD! Son, how much did they give you?"

Dick couldn't respond, he kept thrashing, trying to get away from his captor. When Bruce wouldn't let go, Dick bit him hard on the hand. Grabbing him around the waste with one arm, Bruce firmly held him against him as he took his other hand and shoved it down Dick's throat. Dick bit down again, this time blood spurted upwards but Bruce refused to let go of his son. Gagging, Dick had no choice but to spill the contents of his stomach onto Bruce's hand and into the water. As soon as Dick was finished, Bruce held him tightly around the waist as he quickly swam for the dock.

Waking up, Dick noted the light fragments on the ceiling light weren't as pretty as they had been earlier. From a foggy place inside his mind, he wondered why.

"He's waking up Alfred."

"Bruce?" Dick reached out and found Bruce sitting beside him on the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a guitar, force feed drugs and half drowned." Dick answered slowly.

"Good. Glad to have you back. As soon as you're up and about I've got a job for you."

"BRUCE!"

"What? Is there a problem?" Bruce asked innocently. He could only laugh as Dick and Alfred both assaulted him with pillows.

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