Dear Friends,
This is a late entry into "OH MY HEAVENS THERE'S A MOLE I MUST WRITE STORY ABOUT IT!" unofficial competitions. While I am 99.99% certain that the character I have chosen isn't the mole (I'm pretty sure it's Roy. I could be wrong.), this is a fun little challenge, and I felt up to it, despite having quite a few other projects I need to work on.
I am also aware that the mole is soon to be revealed (if not this Saturday, then the next), making this story almost irrelevant. So, I thank you for reading it.
Sincerely, Jimmy Candlestick.
...
Okay, a few notes. Yes, this is a Robin-is-the-mole story. No, I haven't read the others, so, I apologize if you think I copied off of you. Seeing as how I've been rushing, it's got a few rough spots, so, again, I apologize. Barbara is an almost-integral part of this story, but, she's not in long. Sorry. No Batgirl here.
Also, Zatanna will be appearing, however, since I don't have a full grasp on how to write her, she won't be "seen" much. And, Red Arrow has not yet joined the team, since I started this before he joined. I do hope to have chapter 3 posted by Friday, since I've written up to chapter 5.
That's all. Read on, and enjoy. :)
Dick was staring intently at the book. His eyes never moved, though, periodically, he turned the page. Study hall was only forty-five minutes long, but Barbara Gordon never failed to notice that he seemed to read half of a book – without fail – every single day. And the books were never the same, she dutifully noted.
The first time he did this, Barbara didn't think much of it. She couldn't even remember what that first book was. Dick was a smart kid, there was no denying it. Sure, he was practically always bubbling over with his energy, but, when he really wanted, the boy could sit still and get things done with a certain speed and focus that she found herself quite jealous of.
Yet, after the fourth or fifth time of getting half-way through a book by the end of study hall, the Commissioner's daughter began to notice. And by the tenth time, she was writing the "clues" down in a notebook.
"Babs, if you ever notice anything out of the ordinary, write it down," her dad would say. He meant criminal activity, but, that didn't mean it had to be restricted to that.
She looked at her notes. Today's book was "Roget's Thesaurus." When she saw him pick it up, Babs had her doubts about writing it down – and certainly about it being abnormal. She knew about Dick's penchants for words more than anyone else in the school. This penchant normally urged him to share new found words with anyone that would listen (which was usually everyone, given the boy's ability to charm almost anyone into befriending him), and so, when, after the first page or so, Dick didn't smile, chuckle, or share with her his new favorite word, she quickly changed her mind and wrote it down.
Her list was long and full of boring books – even for a genius like Dick. Yesterday was Biology. The day before that was "The History of Nuts and Bolts for the Young Engineer." Though, some were interesting, like Jules Verne's "Journey to the Center of the Earth", and Alexander Dumas' "The Three Musketeers."
The most disturbing, she found, was the book on weaponry. That, in itself wasn't a disturbing book. Except that this one was on guns. Barbara wasn't an idiot, and she certainly wasn't clueless. And even though the subject wasn't covered much in gossip magazines (not that she read those much), she knew that Bruce Wayne hated guns of any kind, and she knew why.
She cleared her throat. "Find any interesting words?"
Dick didn't so much as twitch in response.
She bit her lip, turning away. "I'll take that as a 'no', then."
Babs tried to focus in on her own book. Tried, being the keyword here. She jotted a few things down, glanced up as Dick turned another page without really looking, and then back down at her notebook. She pursed her lips. Hm. Tearing the corner off, she balled it up and took aim. Flicking it with her paper, she watched the little missile fly quickly through the air and bounce off Dick's face, right above the eyebrow.
Again, he didn't so much as twitch.
Barbara huffed, only to stiffen as a large hand rested itself on her shoulder. She looked up to see the Study Hall 'teacher' – who was also the football coach – standing just behind her.
"Miss Gordon, there's a reason it's called Study Hall. Try to not to use it for little flirting games. I'd hate to bring this to the attention of your father."
Biting back a retort – I'm not flirting or playing a game – Barbara nodded with a polite, "Yes, Mr. Henson, it won't happen again."
Giving an approving nod, the man walked off.
With a dejected sigh, and one last despairing look thrown at her oblivious friend, she settled back to "study." Until un-minted breath, hot and heavy, was being exhaled right by her ear.
"Can I help you?" She asked quietly.
"Babs, I'll get Dick's attention for you, if you want." Tom's voice really sounded less helpful and friendly and more conniving and...needy?
"I doubt that."
"Naw, really, I can get his attention."
Barbara looked sideways turning her head just a bit. Though, any more, she realized, and it would be decidedly awkward. "Why do you want to do that for me?"
She could just barely make out Tom's grin. "Can't a guy be chivalrous anymore?"
"I'm all for chivalry, Tom, but, I feel like there's an underlying motive, here. What do you want?"
"Will you say 'yes' if I get his attention?"
"To what?"
"Just tell me if you'll say 'yes'!"
"I'm not going to say anything until you say what it is you want."
"I don't want to tell you, right now. Just say 'yes,' and I'll get Grays- Dick's attention for you."
Barbara looked back down at her notes. "And I'm not saying anything until I know. If you really want an answer this badly, just get his attention, and then tell me what it is." She looked back up. "If you can get his attention, I'll be in much more of a mood to say yes."
Tom sighed, and Babs closed her eyes as his breath came even heavier onto her ear. Does he not know of personal space?
But then he got up, only after glancing at Mr. Henson, and made his way to the chair next to Dick's. Sitting down, with Babs watching carefully, he leaned over to the boy. "Hey, Dick. You in there?"
No response.
"C'mon, man, you can't tell me you're not hearing me. I know you're not trying to stay out of trouble. You're not that good of a kid." He didn't see Barbara's eyes narrow dangerously. "You thinkin' about anything special? Like, oh, I dunno...a circus?" His eyes flitted down to the page. It was the word 'death' that caught his eye. "Maybe you're parents?"
"Tom!" Barbara hissed.
The boy ignored her. "You know, I can't even begin to imagine what that would've been like. Seeing all of your family lying there, surrounded by their blood..."
Dick's hand trembled a little where it rested on the table. He blinked.
"Tom, stop it!" Barbara begged him.
But Tom really wanted that 'yes.' "Woulda been really gross. Probably really scary too, watching them fall. Down, down, down from the trapeze. And then, there they would be, all twisted around. They're necks probably woulda looked funny, being broken an' all-"
"SHUT UP!" Dick roared, standing suddenly, pulling back his fist before he sent it flying at Tom's face.
The whole room jumped up at the yell, and everyone heard the crunch of Tom's nose as Dick's fist hit it. Tom went down, and Dick pounced on him, hitting the boy for all he was worth.
"Dick, stop it!" Barbara screamed at him, her eyes wide. "Stop, you're hurting him really bad!"
Dick didn't hear her, though. He just kept hitting and hitting, until Mr. Henson was able to tear him off, and even then, the young acrobat was yelling, wiggling and kicking, while Tom lay still on the floor, his face bloodied and battered.
That, Barbara realized with a cold feeling settling into her, Was a really, really, bad idea.
Well...how was it? Yeah, this won't be a masterpiece. Unless it will be. Then that'd be a nice. But, please, leave a comment, let me know how it's goin'. All that jazz. -Jimmy C.
