Intro

I think I'm not going to tell you whose perspective I'm writing from. Some you won't be able to guess because I just made them up, and their characters are not important. Others you'll know right away. Probably because I'll use their name in the writing.

Or not. I guess this depends on how well I portray the characters.

I'm just warning you now- I don't always finish things. It's about 50/50. I'm not saying this because I'm trying to fish for comments and reviews, I'm just saying this so when people get pissed I can point to something and say Told Ya So. In the case that I do finish it, well, forget that I even wrote this paragraph.

There also won't be any specifying of ages. It makes more sense for the reader to fill in this blank, as it affects your perception more than it does mine.

I don't own anything DC Comics or Warner Bros related.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Jump City Robin

"Babe, lets get out of here. Just you and me. We'll have more fun at my place."

His hair is greasy. No one who needed a shower this badly should have such confidence. She ponders this with a loopy mind. Maybe she shouldn't have been so callous with her friends and the shots. Regardless of her impairment, she knows she doesn't want to go home with the slimeball.

"I think I want to go back inside."

He ignores her. Starts to bite her neck again.

"Look, can we just go back inside and dance?"

Now his lips are moving towards the V in her glittery dress. His hair is brushing against her nose. Ugh gross.

"Stop. I'm done."

His ears must be broken. No no no.

"Hey asshole! I said I'm done!" She pushes him. Jerk. Probably has a tiny penis. Deserved it. She tells him so.

There is impact on her bottom lip again, only this time it's a fist.

A windowless van faced a red light. The greasy haired driver cursed; why red when no one else was around? He blew the light. When he was a kid this would have thrilled him. He was numb now, and needed a grander rebellion.

Red and blue lights flashed in his mirrors. Shit. He was sure no one could hear the woman scream for help from the outside, but she could certainly drown out his Howdy-do, Officer?

He would take the long way home. He pressed the pedal to the floor; this evenings date tumbled to the back of the van.

Officer Hart was pissed. He just wanted to go home. Retirement was days away.

Guiltily, he glanced at the red and black business card in his cup holder. He knew it shouldn't even be a consideration, but Wilma was at home with two sick grandchildren. Paperwork was piled high in the home office. It was only a red lighter anyway. He used his cell phone and dialed.

Slimeball grinned as the lights turned off and the black and white slowed. One could always count on lazy cops in Jump City. He relaxed to a comfortable speed of twenty over the limit, and the CrownVic turned left and out of sight. The woman had stopped her screaming and crumbled into a corner. It was going to be a good night.

He winced as a single bright headlight shone in his mirror. Some asshole biker with his brights on. The jerk got closer, and tailgated him close enough to graze his bumper. Obviously he wasn't going fast enough for the punk. Insulted, he sped up.

His prize screamed once again, only this time she was joined by the screech of metal on metal. The van shuddered; Slime cursed again and glanced in the rear view mirror.

What- they looked like harpoons piercing both sides of the van. He flicked his eyes back to the road, and then checked his mirrors again. What the Hell?

There was a thud on the roof.

The van went from seventy to zero in seconds. He was thrown from the roof of the van, but was able to duck and roll. Standing, he felt no injuries and faced the van. He saw the driver see him, mouth agape and slimy hair standing on end. He saw the slimeball take in his red and black suit, the cape with a raised eyebrow, and last the mask. He saw what the driver was thinking long before it happened, and he was ready.

When Slime slammed on the gas, Robin leapt into the air. He pulled his cape over his face and rammed a foot through the advancing windshield.

There was a scream and once again the driver slammed on the brakes. Robin was now sitting shotgun without having to open a single door.

"What the FUCK-"

"Last I checked," Robin said conversationally, pulling the lever and reclining his seat, "running red lights is still illegal after midni-"

He had spotted the backseat occupant. Masked eyes met mascara smeared brown ones. Robin sat up straight and slowly turned to face the dumbstruck driver.

The first punch sent the driver into the door, the metal giving in like putty. His hair left a streak on the window. Robin allowed him a moment to feel the pain. The second sent the driver and the door out onto the street. He had a minute to glimpse the aircraft cable that attached a cherry red motorcycle to the harpoons in his van, and then the slimeball was out.

Robin didn't spare him a second glance. Climbing into the backseat, found the woman was huddled and terrified still.

"It's going to be okay. I promise."

There were flashing red and blue lights down the road. Some shop owner had called the police, Robin guessed. He kicked open the double doors at the back of the van. His R-Cycle flashed its lights, greeting him like a puppy waiting for its master. He turned back and reappeared as the police cars pulled up, carrying the woman effortlessly. She was bruised and distraught, but otherwise had suffered only emotional harm.

To the first officer who confronted him, he presented the weight of the woman. To the second another of the business cards that were slowly becoming known in the city. The two officers shouted to him as he swung a leg over his R-Cycle. He ignored them as the harpoons retracted, and the steel cables reeled them back in. Once they were secure, Robin revved the engine.

Blinking after the retreating red bike, the officer looked down at the card the boy had handed her.

ROBIN

555-3400

Call for help