Roadtrip II: Born to Be Wild

by Charlene Edwards

Sequel to Roadtrip. Premise -- Dick, Tim and Roy take a vacation, act their ages and disaster follows. Timewise, takes place the spring after "A Different Game".

1. Chapter 1

Title: Roadtrip II: Born to be Wild (Part 1)
Author: Charlene Edwards
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Disclaimer: DC owns Dick, Tim, Roy and the mention of Bruce. I own the rest.
Synopsis: The boys take another Roadtrip -- this time in Bruce's NEW car. A comedy of errors hopefully ensue. LOL
Thanks go out to Patty and Tammy for this one. I hope you all enjoy. Char :-)

Roadtrip II: Born to be Wild:

"Get your motor running. Head out on the highway. Looking for adventure. And whatever comes our waayy."

Dick sighed "Why me?" as Roy and Tim continued to belt out of tune "Born to be Wiiiillllddd!"

"Oh please, just put in a CD!" Dick yelled at them as he drove the convertible down the lonely highway.

Roy and Tim laughed and then Roy added, "What's wrong dude, you got a problem with our singing?"

"Yes," Dick replied flatly.

"He's just jealous he can't sing as good as us," Tim added as he leaned back in the back seat, the wind rippling through his dark hair.

"What are we doing again?" Dick asked for about the hundredth time. He knew. Bruce had ordered a custom made convertible from California. Rather than have the car delivered, Dick and Tim had volunteered to fly to Los Angeles and pick up the car and drive it back to Gotham City. Roy had volunteered to tag along. Dick wasn't so sure about that -- not after their last vacation together -- but Dick knew he and Tim needed some down time, some away time. They had lost their summer last year, spent it in Gotham City's jail on trial for murder. Roy was right, they did need a little fun. And a cross country drive in a new convertible was exactly what they needed. Even Bruce agreed it'd be good for them -- ONCE he knew he had Gotham and Bludhaven covered.

"Having fun Robbie, having fun," Roy replied as he looked over his sunglasses at Dick. The smile on his face was sinfully wicked. Roy should have horns, Dick was positive of it.

Dick laughed. He didn't understand why he laughed, but he did. "Put the Creed CD in," Dick laughed as he continued down the highway. "The one with 'My Sacrifice'."

"No," Roy replied as he made a face.

"No? What'dya mean no?" Dick asked. "I like that."

"You would. Dude, I got a new Aerosmith CD -- 'Young Lust' -- gotta love the name and the CD cover."

Tim's hand quickly reached up from the back seat and snatched the CD from Roy's hand. Tim grinned as he looked at the girl unstrapping her black bra on the cover picture. "Cool. I was wanting to hear Nickelback, but I can look at this -- does it have MORE pictures?"

Roy quickly turned around and grabbed the CD from the boy's hand, "Gimme that." He turned back around in his seat as he slipped the CD into the player in what appeared to be one fluid movement.

"Put your seat belt on Roy," Dick sighed as he shook his head.

Over the din of the music, they heard another car approaching from behind them. Tim turned and saw the other convertible gaining on them from the back. As the speeding car approached, the car veered into the left lane, past the double yellow lines and pulled beside them.

There were two girls in the convertible, two well endowed girls. They were waving and calling out to them. Dick even found himself smiling. He was also sure if he could see his face that he was blushing a little too. The cop in him said the girls were violating the law -- driving left of center -- but the part of Dick that was twenty-four really didn't care. He caught the other car moving slightly ahead of him and as it did the buxom blond in the passenger side sat up pulling her shirt up revealing everything.

"Ohmygod!" Tim screamed in Dick's ear at a speed the speedsters would have been proud of.

"Oh yeah babeeee," Roy called out as he jerked the steering wheel from Dick causing their car to sway all over the road.

"Roy, what the hell? Stop it!" Dick ordered.

"Hit the gas man, we gotta catch up."

Dick slapped Roy's hand off the steering wheel. "We gotta not wreck this car," he adamantly replied as he heard Tim in the back seat. It sounded like the kid was hyperventilating.

"Dude!"

"Don't 'Dude' me, Harper. I'm NOT chasing after those girls. Remember what happened last time?"

"But it was sooooo much fun --"

"Until we ended up in jail! No," Dick responded.

"Oh My God!" came from the back seat.

Dick looked up over his sunglasses and watched as Tim fell over in the back seat. Rolling his eyes, Dick shook his head and pushed on the gas pedal. Maybe they could speed up -- just a little. Was it just coincidence that the CD started playing "Crazy"?

Not long after they crossed the California/Arizonia border, a red Mustang pulled along side them on the four lane highway. The car was full of girls. The brunette in the passenger side of the car was holding up a sign reading: "What's your cell phone number?" Dick couldn't help himself -- he grinned.

Roy did more than that. "Quick Tim, write down Dick's cell phone and hold it up!" Roy sounded frantic.

Dick turned to look at his red headed friend. "What'd ya think you're doing? Tim don't --" he started then laughed as he watched Tim holding up a sign with his cell phone number on it. He knew that this had to be a bad idea. But it was fun. It was only a few seconds later when the phone rang. "Do NOT give them our real names OR your real name!" Dick ordered. He knew this was a bad idea. They should just let it ring.

"Hey good lookin'... Yeah, I'm the cute red-head ... uh-huh ... my friends ... oh him, he's ... Robbie. Yeah, ... kid in the back's Jack. Me, baby I'm the man of your dreams," Roy replied as he laughed. "Well, yeah, you can call me that if you want babe ... my name? It's ... Lance."

Dick laughed aloud as he heard Roy. Oh man, if anyone EVER found out about this they were ALL dead.

Tim was reaching for the phone, trying to grab it out of Roy's hand, "Lemme talk!"

Roy swatted Tim's hand, "Stuff it small fry, these ladies want to talk to a real man, not a shrimp."

"I'm not a shrimp!" he yelled indignantly.

Dick laughed at the mayhem in the car as he continued to drive, glancing occasionally at the girls in the red mustang.

"Why would you wanna talk to him when you're talking to me, babe?" Roy asked.

"See!" Tim yelled as he reached for the phone.

Roy swatted his hand again, "Not you. Robbie's who she wants to speak to." Roy held the phone out to Dick.

A wide grin formed on Dick's face as he felt the heat moving into his cheeks. How could he be blushing? "No -- no -- I don't think that's a good --" Roy forced the phone into Dick's hand and pushed the phone to Dick's ear. "Uh ... hi! -- um Robbie --" He laughed a deep laugh as he listened to the girls on the other end.

Tim petulantly sat back in the seat with a loud sigh, "It's not fair! I'm the cute one."

Sitting in the booth in the small roadside diner, Dick watched Roy flirting with the girls from the Mustang. Maybe Roy was right, maybe a little flirting was harmless. He had to admit, he was having fun. He turned to his right just in time to see MacKenzie rubbing her hand on Tim's thigh. A whistle escaped his lips and Tim nervously turned to his older brother.

MacKenzie continued rubbing Tim, seemingly oblivious to Dick's notice. With a soft voice she asked, "Are you sure that you and your friends can't stay the night here, Jack?"

"Yeah, he's sure," Dick interjected with a laugh. "As fun as this has been, we've got to hit the road."

"Robbie, you're a spoil sport, ya' know that?" Roy asked as he pulled away from Blair.

Dick flashed his famous grin, "Sorry dude, we've got a time table."

Megan walked back over to their booth from the cash register. "Ready to go girls? Robbie? I've made reservations at the local hotel."

Blair pouted. "Robbie says they can't stay," as she traced the lines of the tattoo on Roy's arm.

Dick smiled, "Sorry Megan, we really are gonna have to go. We've got to get back to Gotham by the end of the week. Can't disappoint the man that hired us to bring the car back," he replied as she slid into the booth beside him. Lightly, she ran her fingers over his hand before leaning over and kissing him. He blushed.

As they watched the girls walk out of the diner Roy turned back toward his two friends and begged, "Are ya sure we can't stay the night?"

Dick only glared at him.

Tim smiled. "Man I wish I had a tattoo. The girls loved the tattoos."

"You were doing just fine without a tattoo," Dick replied as he took a drink from his soda.

Tim smiled at his brother, "Yeah but tattoos are cool and the girls really dig 'em."

"No! Absolutely not! We return home and there are tattoos on your body and both of our dads kill me," Dick said animatedly.

"Geez, don't bug out," Roy started. "Look kid, you can't just get a tattoo. They have to mean somethin'. Besides, There's not a tattoo parlor
around here. You'll have to wait until the next town," Roy finished with a wicked grin.

A huge smile formed on Tim's face, "Cool!"

"NO! He will have to wait until he is eighteen and NOT on a trip with me. Not in the same state as me."

"Oh relax, you're gonna bust a gasket. He's not old enough, unless he got drug tattoos, he'd be old enough for that."

"What'ya mean he'd be old enough for drug tattoos? He is NOT old enough for those!" Dick declared as he reached out a grabbed a handful of french fries.

"Sure he is man," Roy replied as he stretched out on his side of the extra large booth.

"Kewl. How do you get those?"

"Shut up, you don't need to know," Dick grumbled.

"Look, jus' like this, Timbo, give me your hands," Roy said sitting back up. Tim looked nervously at Dick who was shaking his head, then he stuck his hands across the table. Roy smiled broadly as he pulled a pen out of his back pocket and started drawing on Tim's knuckles. "'Course the real ones would use a needle and some black ink, but we won't puncture you." As he continues to draw on Tim's fingers, he started describing the different symbols. "See, this means you belong to this gang." Roy pointed to a part of the mark, then moving to another continued, "And this one means you've made your name. Congratulations Timbo, you're a drug dealer."

Dick's eyes narrowed as he watched Roy and Tim. Tim was laughing. Rolling his eyes, Dick added, "Well prison tattoo's are better."

"Nah, these look better," Roy started.

Dick reached out and took the pen and started drawing on his own fingers. The tattoos he drew he knew all too well from his undercover acts as Robbie Malone. "See, now these are cool tattoos. Each one means a different prison or jail and different lengths of incarceration. Lets guys on the inside know whether to mess with you or not and what prison gangs you're in."

Roy shook his head. "Dude, they're too crude. These are more elaborate," he said taking the pen back to draw some more on Tim's fingers.

Tim had a very wide smile on his young face. "These are cool. Man, I wish I could keep 'em for a little while."

"Yeah, it'll last a little while too," Roy said as he started to get up from the booth.

Dick looked up at his red-headed friend, "What do you mean a little while?"

Looking down, Roy grinned. "I used permanent ink, so the water won't make it run."

"HOLY SHIT ROY!" Dick yelled.

"Dude, I always meant to ask, did you patent that phrase?" Roy laughed as he backed up watching Dick push Tim out of the booth and head toward him. "Geez, it'll come off in a couple of days." Dick reached out and swatted Roy on the side of his head. "Whaat? It'll be cool, he can show all his yuppie friends."

Dick glared at Roy. "Do you realize that I'm now gonna have to make this trip with PRISON tattoos on my fingers the whole way. Why did you use permanent ink?"

"It was the only pen I had. Besides, it's not that big a deal. So chill, nothing's gonna happen Dude."

Dick pulled the convertible into the gas station and beside the pump. All three young men got out of the car and stretched. Dick tossed his credit card at Roy, "Fill 'er up." He headed toward the small store that was part of the gas station, Tim at his heels.

Roy shook his head as he walked around the car to start pumping gas. Roy rolled his eyes as he noticed that the pump was an older model that did not allow for the use of credit cards at the pump. With a wicked smile, he pocketed Dick's credit card and started pumping gas. He turned to look inside the store and saw Dick and Tim grabbing bags of chips and candy and drinks. As he started to turn back around, his hand still on the gas pump, he heard a scratching sound.

Roy grimaced as he looked down. The rather large knife that he wore on his belt was scratching into the side of the car. There was about a four inch gash in the newly painted red exterior of the car. "Dick's gonna freak." Looking around, he noticed Dick and Tim were still looking around the store. He put the nozzle back on the pump and casually threw his knife in the back seat. Whistling, he walked toward the store.

He walked over to the cold drink section looking a beer. He needed one. With a VERY high alcohol content. Perusing the cold section he started getting agitated. "What the hell? What is this? Where's the beer?"

"Dry county sir," the clerk called out as he nervously watched the three young men who seemed to take up the entire small store.

Roy threw his head back and closed his eyes. Oh this was perfect.

Dick strolled over to Roy, "What's wrong?"

Roy sighed, "Just wanted a beer, Dude."

"Well, you don't need it. Couldn't drink it in the car anyway," Dick said as he reached the cooler grabbing out a few Zestis.

"That's what you think," Roy mumbled as he reached in and absentmindedly grabbed a six pack of Zesti Twist. He walked over to the counter, grabbing a bag of chips on his way and tossing his items on the counter.

The clerk looked at Roy's tattoos as he rang up the order. He had previously noticed the finger tattoos the other two young men sported. The agitated clerk rang up their purchases.

When the three had paid the clerk, they started heading toward the car. Tim was busily counting his money as Roy was anxiously waiting for Dick to spot the gash. It was too much to hope for that Dick wouldn't notice it. Roy pulled one of the cans of Zesti Twist out of his bag and took a large swig. "What the hell!"

"He gave me too much change," Tim said as he stopped in his tracks.

"What the hell, this soda has lemon in it, I'm exchanging it. Who puts friggin' lemon in soda," Roy yelled, the car forgotten for a moment.

Dick stopped and sighed. The three turned around and headed back toward the store. "Just exchange the change and the drinks. Don't buy anything else. Don't buy anything you can be sloppy with in the car."

The nervous clerk saw the three young men coming back toward the store. He opened the cash register. Watching them enter the door, he held up the money as he ducked down behind the counter. "Take it all! Take it all!"

Tim had started speaking as he walked through the door, "I got the wrong change ... what's he doing?"

Dick looked over the counter and down at the clerk. "Uh ... sir ... um ... I think you have the wrong idea."

"Yeah," Roy added slamming the Zesti Twists on the counter, "I need regular Zesti. Not this fruity crap. Who puts lemon in soda? It ain't done."

The clerk's trembling hand slammed the money on the counter. "Take it and leave. Please, please don't shoot me. I gotta wife. Don't hurt me!"
.
Dick looks at Tim and Roy then back down at the petrified clerk. "We're not going to shoot you. We don't have a gun."

"I ... I won't tell anyone what you looked like --- please don't hurt me. That's all the money there is."

Dick sighs and looks at Tim and Roy. "What did we do?"

"You look shifty to me," Roy said as he leaned against the counter and looked at Dick with a grin.

"Me? Oh no, it's you, you're all grunge," Dick protested.

Tim looks at Dick and then nods, "You do bro'."

"I do not!"

"Man it ain't the grunge it's the eyes. Right Timbo?"

"Yep, very shifty eyes," Tim agreed.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Guys, help me out here," he said as he pointed to the trembling clerk behind the counter. Turning to face the clerk, Dick starts in a soothing voice, "Mister, we're not robbing you. Honest."

Roy leaned over counter and pulled the petrified clerk up. "Hey, dude, who looks more shifty -- me or him?"

The clerk moaned as the three friends heard a trickling sound. Looking down, everyone saw the large brown stain forming on the clerk's tan pants.

Tim sighed. "Roy, man ... I think you just outshifted Dick. He wet himself. You scared the pee outta him."

Dick reached out and grabbed the clerk by the arms. "Look, calm down."

"Man don't touch him, he's like a betsy wetsy or somethin'," Roy said as he made a face.

Dick looked the clerk directly in the eyes. "Are you gonna calm down?" he asks forcefully.

The clerk continued to tremble "I'll be whatever you want. Please just take the money. I'll be calm."

"We don't want the money. This is NOT a robbery. You --"

"Okay. Not a robbery. It's a hold up. I got it. PLEEEAASSSE don't kill me!" the clerk interrupted.

Dick turned to Tim. "What am I doing wrong? Can't he understand me? Am I speaking English?

"Bro, I can't understand you most of the time." Tim leaned across the counter, shouting in the clerk's face. "WE AREN'T ROBBERS!"

Roy snorted, "Oooooh, shouting at him ...that'll probably get you number two."

Dick glared at Roy and then turned back to the annoying clerk. "Look, you gave my brother too much change. The loudmouth here got the
wrong drinks and wants to exchange. That's all!"

"Loudmouth? I'm not the one that shouted at him."

"No! you're the one that made him pee on the floor," Dick said disgustedly.

"How'd I know he wasn't housebroken?" Roy asked, sounding serious.

Tim leaned against the counter and looked at the pathetic clerk. He let out an audible sigh. "Look, here's the ten dollar bill you gave me instead of a one. I'm gonna take this nice dollar bill and leave," he stated as he placed the ten on the counter and picked up a one from amongst all the money the terrified clerk had slammed on the counter.

Roy started complaining, "Man, I need to exchange these, they gotta lemon or some kind of crap in 'em. I don't drink fruity Zesti."

Dick's glared at Roy. "Just get new sodas ok, so we can leave. Leave the lemon ones here on the counter, ok."

Roy started heading toward the cold drink section. Dick watched him then turned back toward the terrified clerk, his hand still gripping the man's arm. The clerk was still shaking when he looked at Dick and stated, "I won't tell you the combination to the safe. You can't make me."

Releasing his hold on the man, Dick smacked his forehead with his hand. "Geez dude, we're not robbing you! How many times do I have to say that?"

"HEEEY, there aren't any more Zesti's but the fruity ones - cherry and lemon ... what the hell!! You guys got the last ones." Roy sauntered back over to the counter. "That's right. No robbery. No hold up. No hurt betsie wetsie. See," he added pointing to his sheath, "I don't even have my knife. See, it's empty. I just want a friggin' regular Zesti which you don't have in the cooler. Do ya have any in the back room?"

Tim was walking near the door when he spied a machine across the room he hadn't noticed before. His eyes grew wide and a smile formed on his face. "Oooooh, they have slurpees! I want one." He turned quickly back to the clerk, "Hey how much are the slurpees?"

The man behind the counter passed out and fell on the floor in a heap.

"Aw shit," Dick mumbled.

"Yeah, I think he did that too," Roy added as he started for the store room.

"Geez ... does this mean I can't have a slurpee?"

Dick whimpered and laid his head on the counter. Why him? Why did this always have to happen to him? He looked up toward the security video and sighed. It was all on tape. He could just see the eleven o'clock news now. When he finally raised his head, he saw Tim at the slurpee machine happily making his own slurpee. Dick could hear Roy ransacking the store room. Dick looked down at the money on the counter and the passed out clerk on the floor and sighed.

He walked around the counter, carefully stepping over the unconscious man, and looked for some paper and a pen. Quickly, he scrawled out a short note explaining what really happened. He looked down into the open empty cash register. He knew they couldn't walk out and leave the money for the taking, although it might actually me better if they left before the clerk regained consciousness. He started picking up the money to put it back in the register.

The bell on the door jangled as two men dressed in county sheriff uniforms walked in. The taller of the men was talking as he walked through the door, "Hey Joe, how's ... YOU'RE NOT JOE!" he says as he saw Dick standing behind the counter, money in hand.

Dick stared at the two officers, "Uh -- no -- I'm not Joe." He looked past the officers at Tim who's back was still to the counter. He was happily finding a lid for his oversized slurpee.

Roy called out from the storeroom, "Hey, there's some good stuff back here."

Dick tried to smile, then looked at the unconscious Joe before looking back at the deputies. "Um , this REALLY isn't ... what it looks like ... it is. It's not. It's ... see -- "

"Hands up!" the taller deputy yelled, as he and his companion draw their service revolvers. "Hands up where I can see 'em. NOW!"

Tim turned around slurping on his slurpee, "What's going --"

"You! Hands up too. Over here. Now!" the second deputy yelled as he pointed his gun at the teenager. He noticed the teens tattoos on the hand holding the red icy drink. "They're gang members," he shouted to the other officer.

Tim's mouth opened to protest but he stopped when the second officer waved the gun in his face. Reluctantly, he dropped his slurpee and raised his hands.

With a sigh, Dick raised his hands. "Look, we can explain this. It's not what it seems. Actually I don't know what it seems, but it's not what you're thinking."

"SHUT UP! MOVE OUT WHERE I CAN SEE YOU. KEEP YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!" the first officer shouted. "Harvey, get the one outta the store
room. Be careful, he's probably armed too."

Tim looked at Dick, "Too?" All he had been armed with was a super sized slurpee. And now it graced the store floor.

Roy was moving the case back on the shelf he had pulled it from, a wicked grin on his face. He had found the LAST six-pack of regular Zesti in the store. And it was ALL his. He turned his head at the noise in the other room. "Hey, what's going out there?"

Gun shaking in hand, Harvey walked back to the storeroom. As he did, Dick looked at Tim and shrugged as Harvey yelled, "YOU IN THE STORE ROOM, COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS RAISED!"

The first officer looked at Dick and Tim, "Down on the floor, both of you."

Dick was exasperated. "Oh come on we didn't -- "

"NOW!"

Roy, a sixpack of regular Zesti in hand, started out. "What's going on -- whoa dude watch where you're pointing that thing," he said to the shaking deputy.

"HANDS UP NOW OR I'LL SHOOT!"

"Oh man," Roy started as he put his hands up, the six pack still in one hand. Looking at the trembling deputy, he said, "Dude chill out." Then he turned to Dick. "What's going on?"

Tim was looking down at his T-shirt, "Man I got slurpee all over me."

"Shuddup all of you!" the deputy ordered as he looked around at the three suspects. His hand holding the gun still shaking, he barked at Roy, "Drop the drinks."

Dick stepped forward toward the first officer as he calmly spoke, "Officer, please. I can explain. I know it doesn't look good but -- "

The taller deputy yelled at him. "SHUDDUP! On the Floor."

Harvey shouted at Roy, "Drop the friggin' drinks NOW!"

Roy closed his eyes as he released the six-pack. That was the LAST six pack of regular Zesti. The cans made a loud noise as they crashed into the floor. Harvey's nervous finger pulled the trigger at the noise and shot the drink cans. They exploded on impact spewing Zesti everywhere.

Dick and Roy both shouted "Shit!"

"For God's Sake Harvey, Stop shootin'!" the tall deputy ordered.

Tim's eyes grew wide. "Crap a dog."

"Yeah Harvey, for God's sake stop shooting before you hit someone -- like me!" Roy said flippantly.

"Shuddup ... you can't talk. You're under arrest and stuff. So just shuddup!" Harvey stammered.

"But we paid ... I even brought back the extra nine dollars," Tim whined.

The taller deputy turned to Tim, "SHUT UP ... get down on the floor. Harv, go tend to Joe."

Roy rolled his eyes, "Look dude, we can't get down on the floor. Zesti all over the floor," he pointed. "I ain't laying in that."

The deputy tried to ignore Roy, "How is Joe?" he called to Harvey.

"He's on the floor ... looks like he's unconsci- oh crap! He pissed all over the place. I got it on my shoes ... these are new shoes. Joe, wake the hell up. I think he's coming around," he answered. Then he helped the clerk stand, his free hand picking up the note on the counter. His brow furrowed as he read it.

Joe was still hysterical, "Thank God you're here. They came in and tried to rob me. They pulled me from behind the counter. I tried to resist but they had huge guns and they hit me and -- "

"Guns! We don't have any guns," Tim said as he turned to Dick. Dick just shook his head as he laced his hands behind his head.

"Pat 'em down Harve," the deputy who seemed to be in charge ordered. He held his gun on the three dangerous looking young men as his partner started frisking them.

Joe moved in front of the three suspects and started pointing at Tim, "And this one kept trying to fool me with a money swindle -- "

Tim indignantly replied, "I did not! You gave me too much change and I just brought it back and then bought a slurpee."

Continuing undeterred, Joe pointed to Roy, "He shouted at me and threatened me and assaulted me. And that one," he said as he pointed directly at Dick, "He threatened to shoot me!"

"I what?!" Dick yelled. This was insane. They were in the twilight zone, they had to be.

Harve looked up, "They ain't got no guns, Dave. I think... "

Dave turned to Joe and glared, "Which is it? The kid conned you while the others threatened to shoot you with invisible guns?"

Joe whimpers, "Well Dave, I thought they had guns."

"Dammit Joe, I don't care if you are my brother in law, I'm gonna toss your ass in jail if you do this shit again." He holsters his gun. "Harve, let 'em go."

"I dunno, they look shifty, 'specially him," Harve relies as he points to Dick.

"I don't care how shifty he looks, put away your gun."

"It's the eyes, they're all squinty and I think we -- "

"Geezus Harve, shut up and don't try and think. You don't have any experience with that." Turning to the three young men in the store he started what sounded like a very rehearsed speech. " uhhh, on behalf of the Kimball County I would like to sincerely apologize for any inconvenience that we may have caused you. We'll let you be on your way now."

"Dave you can't!" Joe whined, "They're robbers, they assaulted me ... they're shifty 'specially him," he says as he points to Dick.

Dick palms his hand across his face. "WHY ME? WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I'M SHIFTY?"

Harve helpfully supplies, "It's the eyes ... no one can trust those kinda eyes."

Dave rolled his eyes as he shoved Dick's note in Joe's hands. "Again, we're sorry about any inconvenience we caused you, but we won't hold you up now. You can be on your way."

"Man, I lost my slurpee. That sucks," Tim whined as he walked out the door.

"My Zesti's all over the friggin' floor," Roy added as he grabbed the Zesti twist six-pack off the counter.

"Why does this always happen to us. The police show up, oh what a shock, and Roy's here, another shock. Anyone see a pattern?" Dick grumbled as they headed toward the door. Then he stopped dead still. "OH MY GOD!"

Roy closed his eyes. He had forgotten about the little scratch in all the commotion. 'I'm dead ... I'm sooo dead,' he thought to himself. It was too much to hope for that the cops would come out and decide to arrest them anyway. Opening his eyes he said, "Oh, you know I've been dying to try the fruity stuff, let's go. We should move along. Everyone in the car."

Dick remained perfectly still. "OH MY GOD! What did you do to the car?"

"Man, it's like the grand canyon of slashes," Tim said as he moved over and started inspecting the gash.

Dick moved over to the car, pushing Tim out of his way and knelt down eye level with the scratch. He looked up at Roy who stood over him. Roy shrugged with a smile. Dick's eyes narrowed on Roy. "I'm gonna kill you! What the hell did you do to this car?"

Nonchalantly, Roy tossed his drinks into the passenger seat. "We should go. There's that schedule of yours that we have to keep and I think we're behind. Besides, I didn't do nothin'."

Tim bent down, "I think I can see the metal ... it's all the way through the paint."

Like a panther striking at its prey, Dick grabbed Roy by the shirt collar. "You keyed HIS car! Are you NUTS!"

"Geez, I think you even scratched the metal," Tim added helpfully. "Dude, I can't believe you keyed the car? You're suppose to key someone else's car."

Roy pushed Dick off of him, "There's a scratch, I didn't see a scratch. Where?"

"HERE! By the gas tank! Where you were!" Dick pointed.

"Oh man, I swear I didn't see that before I put gas in. Maybe it happened afterwards, when I went into the store."

Tim leaned against the back of the car and softly said, "You are so busted."

Dick was a man on a mission. A detective after all. "How? There are no people here. We're in the middle of NOWHERE. The only other human for fifty miles is in that store. You saw the gash AFTER you pumped gas, didn't you? After you pumped the gas and before you came in the store looking alcohol?"

"Well, you'd look for alcohol too if you scratched this car! HIS car!" Roy added as he ran his hand through his red hair.

"I knew it! I knew you did it! You are dead!" Dick said as he started pacing around the car. The two deputies emerged from the store and watched them.

"Well of course I did it. But damn it, it was an accident. Just chill, dude. We'll fix it. Let's just find an auto repair store or a crayon or something and move on. No big deal. And IF we have to tell him, we'll make Bat Tot tell him."

"NO WAY!" Tim yelled as he got in the back seat.

Dick looked deep in thought as he sighed aloud, his eyes catching the deputies watching them. He tossed the keys at Roy, "Just get in and let's go."

Roy smiled evilly as he looked at the keys in his hand. Getting behind the wheel he revved the powerful engine. "Dude, seriously chill, it's not that bad. He won't notice it." Then revving the engine some more, he continued, "Oh yeah baby," as he wheeled the car back onto the highway.

The two deputies walked closer to the road watching the convertible moving down the highway. "I still think they're shifty looking, Dave."

"Harvey, shut up."

"Well, I'm gonna run the plates anyway," Harvey said.

"Just get in the car," Dave ordered as he put his sunglasses back on and started for the driver's seat. He shook his head as he watched Harve grab the car's mic and radio the tags in as soon as he sat in the passenger's seat. Dave sat behind the wheel and started to drive off in the opposite direction of the red convertible. The day was just too long.

The radio's crackle interrupted the silence of the car. Harvey anxiously grabbed the mic, "What've you got on the car?"

A female voice responded, "Car's registered to a Bruce T. Wayne in Gotham City."

Harvey's eyes grew wide. "Bruce Wayne! The Bruce Wayne? The car's stolen, right?"

The female replied, "There's nothing in the system --"

Harvey cut the radio and looked at Dave. "You KNOW the car's stolen."

"No," Dave answered.

"No way Bruce Wayne lets a bunch of gang bangers drive his car."

"No."

"Come on, just turn around and let's chase 'em. Come on."

Dave sighed as Harvey reached over and flipped the siren switch. Shaking his head, he made a quick U-turn and stepped on the gas.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .