Disclaimer: Own this show? Only in my dreams.

First Meeting

My first impression: He's small. Really small.

I cross my arms over my chest, resisting the urge to snort. I'd heard a lot about the supposed Boy Wonder from GA, so I was expecting a terrifying, intimidating force.

What I have is a squirt of a kid, at least four years younger than me, in a costume way too bright to be associated with Batman. What's more, he's got this silly grin on his face, making him look even younger. Who would be afraid of him?

"That runt is Robin?" I grumble to Green Arrow as we approach the Dynamic Duo on the abandoned warehouse roof.

Chuckling softly, he replies, "Don't underestimate him, Roy. A lot of Gotham's villains do that, and they end up getting their butts kicked."

I roll my eyes under my mask. Seriously, I could take him in a second.

"Hey there, Bats," Green Arrow greets. Batman gives a curt nod, but Robin steps closer to us, that stupid smile growing. "And Robin. Good to see you, kid. This—" he gestures to me—"is Speedy."

"Hey Speedy!" Robin says. "Cool name. Why'd you pick it?"

Great, now I'm playing Twenty Questions.

"'Cause I'm fast with a bow and on my feet," I reply coolly, whipping out my weapon.

"Sweet!"

Man, this kid is really getting on my nerves. Time to shut him up a bit.

"What kind of name is Robin?" I ask. "Not exactly something that shouts, 'Hero.'"

A flash of pain crosses his face, but he composes himself quickly and answers, "I'm aerobatic. Like a robin."

I'm about to make a snide comment when GA nudges me. Turning my attention to where he's staring, I realize that Batman, still standing a little back, is eyeing me. Robin may not be intimidating, but Batman—not someone I want to mess with.

"Care to tell us why we're here?" the Dark Knight questions gruffly, addressing Green Arrow.

"Well, besides for the kids to meet, there's a new villain here. Got some weird similarities to the Joker. Calls himself Bozo. Figured you guys would be the best to call."

Nodding, Batman comes forward. "Give me some more information. It'll give them time to get acquainted."

As they walk away from us, I bristle over the fact that the grown-ups get to discuss bad guys while I'm stuck with Baby Bats.

"How long have you been Green Arrow's sidekick?" Robin seems perfectly content with the fact that we're out of the loop, which annoys me even more.

"Partner," I growl, stepping closer. "Not sidekick. And two months."

"Nice. I've been with Batman for a year."

What? No way.

"How old are you?"

"Ten. How old are you?"

Ten? This kid is ten? And he's been battling the dirtiest creeps since he was nine?

"Fourteen. No offense, but you don't seem cut out for this kind of thing. Not a safe place for a kid."

Shrugging, he answers, "Batman's a good teacher. I can fight pretty well now."

"Care to show me?"

Yeah, I know, not a mature thing to do, but I want to put the pipsqueak in his place. He may have more experience, but I'm older.

"You wanna fight?"

Emotionless, I say, "Of course. Unless you're scared."

Determination comes over his face. "I'm not scared. Let's go."

Pulling out an arrow and notching it, I explain, "These shouldn't hurt…all that much. Just don't go crying to Bats when—"

Before I have a chance to finish, the bow is out of my hands. Angry—and a little confused—I whirl around to see Robin holding my weapon, a grin on his face.

"I win?"

"No," I snarl, grabbing it back. "I wasn't ready. And that was a cheap way to win."

He winces and seems to shrink. "Sorry."

"Whatever," I mutter, feeling a little bad. "Know what? Let's just do hand-to-hand combat. No weapons."

A tiny grin returns. "Okay."

We take our stances, mine offensive, his defensive. "Count of three. One…two…three!"

I charge and try to land a punch, but he uses me as a springboard and flips over my head. A high-pitched laugh escapes him, infuriating me even more. An attempted round-house kick gets me nowhere as he just jumps out of the way. The fight goes on like this for a least five minutes, every move on my part being dodged.

"What, too afraid to hit me?" I finally taunt.

Stupid idea. Before I have a chance to think, he lands a punch square in my jaw. I don't even get the opportunity to recover because his moves come consecutively, one right after the other, and suddenly, I'm lying flat on my back.

Suppressing a groan, I raise my head to see Robin stretching out his hand. "You did great, but you started letting your temper get the best of you. Sorry if I hurt you."

The words barely register because I'm not paying attention to him so much as to Bats and GA, who apparently found the time to watch us. Green Arrow has a sort of grin on his face, like this was amusing, and even Batman seems intrigued, probably because his pet bird just owned me.

Blood boiling, I do something stupid, even for me: I take his hand, but instead of letting him help me up, I pull him down. He manages to stop his fall a little by using his left hand, but he still lands with a thud on his back.

"Roy!" GA barks, and I know I screwed up or he wouldn't have used my real name. Batman doesn't say anything, but he's giving me the infamous Bat Glare as he approaches us. Great, just great.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, kneeling next to Robin.

Sitting up, the kid actually smiles and says, "'Course. I should've seen it coming—you know, expect the unexpected and all. Good move, Speedy."

I can't believe it. I just pulled the cheapest move in the book and he's congratulating me? Now I feel like an even bigger jerk.

"Thanks," I mutter, unable to meet his eyes…mask…you get the point.

Once Robin's on his feet, Batman explains, "Green Arrow and I will be patrolling the northern section of town. You two will be patrolling the southern section. If you find Bozo, or need any help, radio us. If we find nothing, we'll meet here in four hours. Understand?"

We both nod, and with that, they're gone, leaving me and Robin in an awkward silence. After a moment, I murmur, "Let's get going."

As we begin patrol, going from rooftop to rooftop, Robin hesitantly asks, "So, what's the deal with this Bozo?"

"Some freak in a clown suit who finds it funny to mess with people's lives. Seriously, just looking at the guy gives me the creeps."

"Weapons?"

"He's got an obsession with knives, but guns and bombs are a close second."

"Poison?"

I stop short. "Yeah. Disorients you. How'd you know?"

"Green Arrow said he was similar to the Joker. He's got his own Joker Venom—death by laughter. You laugh till you can't breathe while it shuts your body down. Leaves you with a smile on your face, like his." A shudder, so small I almost miss it, ripples through his body.

"Least favorite villain?"

"Hate him. He has no soul. He kills for pleasure in the sickest ways possible and gets off every time because he pleads insanity." After a pause, he adds in a haunted voice, "He once killed off an entire Boy Scout troop with poison cotton candy."

The pain in his voice makes me wonder what else he has seen in his year of crime-fighting. How much is too much?

"How come Batman took you in so young?" I ask, trying to keep it inquisitive, not condescending.

"My parents…my parents were killed. He felt bad for me, I guess; I had no other family, anywhere else to go, so he took me in. I was eight, but I figured out he was Batman a few months later."

"I'm sorry," I murmur, now totallyregretting how I acted.

"S'okay."

"My parents are dead, too," I offer softly. "I had background in archery, pretty decent training. GA noticed."

"I'm sorry. About your parents, I mean."

"I know. Thanks."

We continue. A few minutes later, Robin hisses, "Wait. I think we found him."

"Wha—"

That's when I notice it, too. Circus music. Light, barely noticeable, but definitely there, coming up through the vent.

Touching his ear, Robin murmurs, "Batman? We found him. Condemned apartment building, on the corner of Lilac Avenue and Faith Street." He stops talking, and I assume Batman is speaking now. "Okay. Robin out." Facing me, he explains, "They want us to wait before we do anything."

Still a little sore from our exclusion earlier, I protest, "We can handle it ourselves."

Shifting uncomfortably, he says, "But they told us not to. 'Do not engage until our arrival.' That's exactly what Batman said."

"They're never going to see you as more than a sidekick unless you take initiative." Removing the ventilation grate, I continue, "Look, you can stay here if you want, but I'm taking down these goons."

"Speedy, don't. Please, just wait—"

I'm already down, easing my way through the metallic maze, the music growing louder and louder the longer I continue. Finally, it's right below me. Pressing my ear on the metal, I can just barely make out voices.

"We're going to kill him, right?"

A harsh chuckle. Bozo. "Soon enough. Once we've tested our newest formula on him."

"Let me go! Let me go, please!"

Without hesitating, I crawl back a few spaces and release an exploding arrow. As soon as it comes into contact with the shaft, a blinding light fills the darkness and a jagged hole appears. Throwing myself through it, I land on my feet, bow clenched tightly in my hands.

The room is decked out in circus colors, but instead of balloons and squirting flowers, there are daggers and vials, all full of strange colors. A man is tied to a chair; on his left is a henchmen, wearing a white suit with polka dots; on his left is Bozo, brown hair plastered to his skull, black and red outfit tattered, a crazed look in his eye as he plays with a syringe.

"Well, Arrow's little sidekick has come to stop me." Cackling darkly, he pulls a long hunting knife from the folds of his shirt. "But how good will that little toy of yours be in this cramped little space? Especially with a hostage present." The knife is suddenly against the man's throat, and he lets out a chocked gasp.

I growl in frustration—he has a point, as much as I hate to admit it. Still, I refuse to lower my weapon.

"Put down your bow," he commands, pressing the knife tighter. A thin red line appears on the captive's neck.

Left without a choice, I let it clatter on the ground. "Happy? Now let him go."

The henchman snickers. "That's real cute. He thinks he has any control."

"Adorable," Bozo coos. "They think they're so invincible at this age." Twirling the syringe around in his hand, he continues, "This might just bring you back to reality. It induces panic. Makes you weak. Causes you to hallucinate. At least, it's suppose to. That's why we have to test it. We were, of course, going to use this good man here, but since you've come all this way—"

He snaps his fingers, and the henchman charges me, aiming a punch at my jaw. I easily dodge and kick him in the stomach, but instead of getting hurt, he just laughs and attacks again.

"Oh, didn't I mention that he congenital insensitivity to pain? Have fun trying to injure him."

Well, this is fan-fricking-tastic. I'm facing a guy I cannot harm while a crazy clown contemplates playing doctor with a poor hostage who clearly wishes it was Green Arrow here instead. God, I should have listened to Robin. Not only am I going to get chewed out for disobeying, I'm probably going to be banned from patrol for weeks for screwing up so badly—

High-pitched cackling echoes around the room, and smoke suddenly surrounds me. Not sure what the Hell is happening, I still take advantage of the moment and scramble for my weapon. There's a sudden grunt, and the henchman falls to the floor in front of me, unconscious.

As the smoke clears, I see Bozo fighting Robin, trying to slice the kid but unable to even touch him as he gracefully dances out of the way. Finally deciding to think before I act, I run to the hostage and untie him. He sends me a look, a mix between "Thank you" and "It took you long enough to get your act together," but before I react, I hear a gasp. Bozo has cut Robin across the stomach, and the blood is staining his uniform.

Infuriated, I launch an arrow at the clown—it's a real one, not a trick, something I should only use as a last resort but really, I couldn't care less about morals and honor right now because that freak just hurt a kid.

As the arrow buries itself in Bozo's side, he howls in pain and whips around, just in time to see a net flying towards him. The impact knocks him down, leaving him to struggle under the heavy material.

"Are you alright?" I ask, approaching Robin, pausing to give the villain a solid kick in the head.

"Okay," he murmurs, one hand on his stomach while the other rummages through his utility belt. "Help the hostage get out—I'll be fine."

Unconvinced, I do as he says, leading the man to the front entrance. After a muttered, "Thanks," we walk in silence, which is good enough for me because I'm not much of a talker. I do the minimum, asking if he'll get home okay, and he insists that he will, he's just a couple of blocks away. More concerned about the bleeding ten-year-old I left behind, I accept this, watching him disappear in the night. I've just turned around when I hear someone—no, two someones—behind me. Oh, this is just awesome.

"Roy…where's Robin?"

"Inside," I explain, heading straight, refusing to turn around.

"What. Happened." That's definitely not Green Arrow talking.

"We won."

"Won? Roy, you weren't suppose to act until we got here!"

"Well, it's a good thing I did! Bozo was going to test some weird serum on a captive. So, I mean, it really all balances out."

Neither answers, but I can't tell if that's a good sign or a bad one. When we enter the Cirque de los Creeps, the henchman is still unconscious and Bozo is still struggling underneath the weight of the net. Robin, thankfully, isn't bleeding, but he does have gauze wrapped tightly around his stomach, which is just as unsettling a sight.

"Hi, Batman," he offers, a weak smile on his face.

"Do not engage until our arrival. Isn't that what I said?"

"Yes," he sighs, looking down.

My blood boils—this kid is hurt and all he cares about is his stupid order being ignored?

"It's not his fault!" I practically shout, hands clenching into fists. "I went ahead. He only came down to cover my back! And how can you even think about that when he's got a fricking gash across his stomach?!"

Green Arrow's eyes widen behind the mask, and Robin goes slack-jawed. Batman, well, remains Batman. Unfazed, he evenly responds, "Why do you think I want him to listen when we're on patrol? So such things do not happen."

"Oh," I mumble stupidly.

Clearing his throat, Green Arrow interjects, "Well, you know, all's well that ends well, right? And it's late, so the kids should probably get some sleep."

Instead of responding directly, Batman addresses Robin: "Let's go, Robin. I'll treat that injury when we get home."

The boy quickly scampers to his feet and comes to his mentor's side. Before they leave, however, Robin tugs on the black cape and asks, "Will I see Speedy again?"

Batman eyes me, contemplating. Finally, he gruffly replies, "Yes."

Cheering, Robin flashes me a grin. "Bye, Speedy!"

"See ya," I answer, watching them leave.

Green Arrow turns to me, an "I-told-you-so" smirk on his face. "So, what do you think about him?"

I shrug. "He's not bad."

What I don't tell him is that, yeah, he's pretty awesome and that being friends with him wouldn't be so bad. Because how lame does that sound?