Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. DC Comics does. This just a fun writing exercise.

Author's Notes: This story is meant to be read as a standalone. It is the third story I have written for my Electrum Universe. I have an entire outline planned out of the basic events of this universe. I writing the different stories as inspiration and interest strikes. Outside of the events of the individual stories, I am not sticking to chronological order. My next story could be set years later or earlier from this one.

Any difference from the cannon comic books is entirely deliberate. The assasin in this story is an oc villian controlling a character who has a DCU counterpart. That ties into my own theories of what really happened to the third Batgirl, Cassandra Cain. Alfred's injuries are the result of an event very loosely based on what happened in the sixties comic book where Aunt Harriet first showed up, only without Alfred dying. Contrary to what Comic Vine's article said, Aunt Harriet did first show up in the sixties comic books not the TV show. My Aunt Harriet doesn't nessarily match up with the Silver Age version.

Unfortunately the cannon Aunt Harriet was never used past the Silver Age. No version was used in later movies or the cartoons. It's true she would have needed a good deal of tweaking and some retcons to make her better but still there was so much potential. I think it a shame they didn't reinvent her in the Nightwing comic book serving some of the same purposes as Alfred. That's who the original version was created to replace. A strong willed but kind, older female character on Nightwing's side could have added some much needed warmth and humor to the sometimes too dark plots. If I ever get around to writing a Nightwing in Bludhaven story, my version of Aunt Harriet will probably be in it.

Chaper One:

It was quiet in Gotham City. It had been for several days. This had Robin worried. It was not the only thing worrying him but it was definitely high on his list. The only thing higher was an horrible and lingering question: what had had happened to Batman?

Robin stood on a roof top. The wind moved through his black hair. His costume was not the usual yellow cape and green sleeved red vest. The green shorts was just about the only thing that remained close to the same. He hated the yellow tights that covered his legs. The red shirt with long sleeves that tightly covered his arms. The yellow cape was longer and heavier than usual. The changes were necessary. Gotham City was suffering from of one its coldest winter months on record. To dress otherwise would be to invite sickness or frostbite. He could not afford to risk it. Not while he was the city's sole defender.

The snow was falling even as he stood there. Robin shuddered. Even dressed as he was, he was still chilled. The five story building he stood top of was on the first floor an ice cream shop. Just thinking about that sent more chills through him.

He had stopped a bank robbery and a purse snatcher this night. Arkham's usual were mostly accounted for, still locked up. The ones that weren't was his third great worry.

Across the narrow otherwise empty street, three men were trying to break into a shop. It was a costumes shop. Robin stared in surprise. This was a new one. That shop specialized in period costumes. It was the kind of stuff that had only sold well to Gotham's elite and the city's now bankrupt movie studios. The costumes were high priced to make and sell but the market for such things was currently lousy. Any one could tell just looking that the shop had seen better days. What were three hoodlums doing breaking in?

Robin had two options. He could swing down and stop them, or he could wait until they came out. He wasn't scary like Batman. He couldn't just intimidate the answers out of them. More than half time he tried that tactic he just got laughed at.

So he waited, and waited, and waited some more. It was twenty minutes before the crooks came out. Right at the moment they did, a big moving truck was coming down the street. The crooks were now dressed in Victorian suits. They looked like they had stepped out of a Charles Dickens novel. They had their arms overloaded with more costumes. Robin noticed something he hadn't before, all had headbands over their foreheads. The truck pulled to the shop. The crooks began loading the truck. As they ran out of things to load, they walked back into the shop and brought more. Robin wondered, where they taking this stuff?

Robin pulled out his grappling gun from his utility belt. He swung down to street knocking down two of the three of the crooks, one with a kick, the other with a kick, before his feet even touched the ground. "Hey guys," Robin said, "you really shouldn't be breaking and entering, and stealing! Don't you know that's a felony?"

There was something wrong with the three men. Their eyes were glassy and blank. There was neither anger nor fear in them. Robin could feel his brows go up. "You're not crooks, are you? You're victims!" The Mad Hatter! It had to be. Mind control devices fit his method of operation perfectly. But he didn't he usually use hats?

One of the men, the one still standing continued loading the truck. The other two stood back up as nothing had happened. They walked back towards the shop for more clothing. Robin moved in front on of them. He grabbed a hold of the man's arm stopping him from moving forward.

"Please sir," the man said, "Do not stand in the way." His eyes were still glassy. His words were spoken in a horrible fake British accent. "Master Carroll needs the clothes to dress the masses. We must help him."

Master Carroll? That confirmed it. Robin was ninety five percent certain that he was dealing with the Mad Hatter. Lewis Carroll was the name of the man who wrote Alice in Wonderland, a book that the Mad Hatter regarded as sacred and holy, the same way that some people thought of the Bible, and others the Koran.

Robin heard footsteps behind him. They came closer quickly, close enough that he could hear their heavy breathing. Someone was standing right behind him. Robin moved fast. He let go of the man in front of him then ducked and rolled out of the way. He turned around and looked back. One of the Victorian costumed men had a headband in his hands. If Robin had been one second slower he might be wearing that thing.

"You must join us," the one with the headband said in an fake British accent that was only slight better that his companion's.

"I don't think so," Robin said. He crossed his arms. He grinned widely. "There's no way I'm talking like that! Man do you ever need to watch the BBC!"

The man with the headband continued speaking. "Master Carroll ordered us to seek others to join his party. Anyone who tries to stop us must join us."

"Party?" Robin asked, "Do you mean tea party? No way! Cause that's for old ladies and little girls! And maybe Brits. Which by the way, you are so not! Seriously Mr., loose the accent."

"Master Carroll ordered us to speak this way. We must do what he says." The man with the headband in his hands, moved forward.

Robin joked for two reasons, one: it distracted his foes, and two: it was fun. The jokes weren't working. Mind controlled men couldn't easily angered or annoyed. And Robin was too tired, too worried, too stressed out to enjoy the humor. If he was funny at all it was by accident. He certainly wasn't having any fun.

He needed to come up with something else and fast. He couldn't just hurt the men, not if he had any other choice. They were innocent victims, normal citizens, not crooks. Even if they had had criminal records they would still qualify as innocents in this situation. They were living puppets. The person pulling the strings was the one at fault.

Robin did two cartwheels and a back flip, taking himself several feet down the sidewalk. The man with the headband kept moving forward. The man came closer. Robin kicked that extra headband out of the man's hands.

The thought occurred to Robin that if the man was a puppet, the headband was the strings. Robin needed to cut those stings. He ran at the man. Putting a hand on the man's shoulder, Robin flipped right over him, removing the headband in the process.

The man immediately started shouting, "Where am I? What happened? How I'd get here?!" The man took off running, his foots steps heavy against the concrete.

"Oh great!" Robin muttered sarcastically. Now how was he going to find the Mad Hatter? If the victims couldn't remember what happened once the headband was gone then they couldn't tell him anything. There was no telling where the Mad Hatter was.

The other two thieves and two more men from the truck started coming toward Robin. He pulled out his grabbling gun. He fired it and shot up to a rooftop three stories up. Once there, he waited. He pulled out a batarang and a small tracking device. With a little bit of wire he tied the tracking device to the batarang. The mind controlled thieves returned to their pillaging, bringing out even more costumes. When they were finished they got into the truck and took off.

Robin threw the batarang onto the top of the truck. He then pulled a small remote control from his utility belt. With the remote he summoned his car, the Redbird. The car pulled up along the sidewalk. It was an sporty red vehicle. It was one of Robin's favorite things. It was a gift, three months ago from Batman. To Robin it was a symbol, a sign that Batman was trusting him to act on his own more.

It was funny, just months ago, Robin had been longing for more independence. Now that Batman and the Justice League were gone, missing for nearly a week, he had it. He had more independence, and more responsibility than he ever wanted. The most recent and very bitter breakup of the Teen Titans less than a month ago meant he was more alone than ever. He still had Aunt Harriet and Alfred back at Wayne Manor but they weren't' out in the field; they couldn't provide the kind of aid he needed when things went wrong. It was only luck that Gotham had been so quiet. That kind of luck could not hold up long.

Firing the grabbling gun again, Robin swung down to the street. He moved around the car to the driver's side. Once he was in the car he took off down the road. He kept the car on autopilot as he pulled a handheld computer from the glove box. The computer was very small and really should have been stored in his utility belt but there only so much that one could store in a utility belt. Anything he might need that wouldn't fit in the belt tended to be stored in the car. He hooked the small computer up to the car's navigational system and set the commands for the car to follow the tracking device. He then sat back and thought about what he knew of the Mad Hatter.

The Mad Hatter's real name was Jervis Tetch. He was a scientist who never got much respect. One day when he pushed too far, his mind snapped. He called himself the Mad Hatter, and sometimes seemed to actually believe he was the character from the book. The nature and depth of his delusions shifted wildly from month to month. He could be ridiculous one time and murderous the next. The only thing constant was that the Mad Hatter was nuts.

Usually though the Mad Hatter was obsessed with Alice in Wonderland themes, that and hats. For some stupid reason known only to the villain himself, the Mad Hatter wanted Batman's cowl for his collection. So why was he suddenly obsessed with the Victorian era? The only connection Robin could see was that Lewis Carroll wrote the books during that time period.

Robin looked at the GPS screen. The tracking device and truck it was on, were headed near the old movie studios. The truck turned onto the road where the old Argus Pictures Studio backlot was. It figured. That place was huge and falling apart from three years of neglect. Worse still, the Argus Motion Picture Company had specialized in horror films. If it had been the Joker or the Scarecrow he was dealing with, he would more than a little worried. As it was, he was annoyed.

Within a few minutes the Redbird reached the front gates of the studio. The gates were busted. Anyone could drive right in. Robin took the car off autopilot. His hands went on the steering wheel. He moved the car slowly through the lot. He found the truck empty and abandoned at the back of an old soundstage. Anything could be waiting for Robin in there, anything. Not for the first time this week, he wished that the current Batgirl was still in Gotham City. Heck, he'd settle for Flamebird the original Batgirl, as irritating as she was, she would have been better than nothing. Any backup would have been appreciated. Robin was really starting to hate going into situations alone.

Robin crept around the soundstage looking for another way in. He picked a lock on a side door. He moved forward into the building. In under a minute he moving up high along a catwalk. Just below him was were the lights. Lower still almost ten feet down was the floor. There were all kinds of Victorian looking furniture and sets down there. There was a large crowd of over fifty people, men and woman of all different ages. The crowd was standing still. They were emotionless looking. All had were dressed in modern clothing. All of them had headbands on their foreheads.

Robin spotted the Mad Hatter down there standing in front of the crowd. Jervis Tetch was wearing a top hat and an absurd brightly colored version of a Victorian suit. The thieves dressed in period piece clothing were standing behind him with all the stolen costumes. Tetch was standing beside a machine with a mike in a hand. "Ladies and Gentlemen!" the Mad Hatter shouted into a mike, "My good followers of the Ways of Wonderland! I have procured the proper clothing. You may begin removing the disgusting most improper outfits from your bodies."

Ways of Wonderland? The Mad Hatter really was thinking of a certain book religiously! It took Robin a second to work out the rest of what Tetch said. He was asking the crowd to strip naked!

The crowd was slowly moving their hands to their shirts, pants, and skirts to obey the madman's orders. Robin had to do something! He had to stop this! Robin yanked out a batarang from his utility belt. He threw at the machine below. The batarang landed perfectly. The machine began to shoot sparks. Unfortunately the crowd didn't stop for several more seconds. When they did pause, all were in various states of undress.

"Eww!" Robin said, trying to cover his eyes. Several of the men were obese. The rolls of fat were not pleasing to the eye. The wrinkly old women were even worse.

At that moment the machine's effect completely wore off. The blank glassy eyed looks were placed by recognition. The minds were no longer controlled. People began to scream. The crowd panicked. Robin panicked too. His mind raced for a solution. He really didn't know what to do. An idea hit him like lightning. He pulled out his gas mask and the sleep gas pellets from his belt. He put the mask to his face. He ran along the catwalk throwing pellets down, dispersing them as evenly through the crowd as he could.

"Curiouser and curiouser," the Mad Hatter said, his tone one of wonder, not the expected anger. "I see the bat's calling card. I see his boy up above but I do not see-" The Mad Hatter's words just stopped in mid-sentence as he fell to the floor unconscious. The entire crowd fell down. Everyone below was out cold.

Robin ran the length of the catwalk carefully not looking down. He wished he could wash his mind clean of what he had just seen. Half dressed or completely naked, the human body was seldom pretty without clothes. Somehow, as irrational as it was, it seemed worse when it was a live body not a corpse on an autopsy table.

Robin made his way back to the Redbird. Once inside the car, he contacted the police on their own radio stations.

Robin swung down from the catwalk to the floor below. He tipped toed with great care around the undressed bodies. He noticed another machine near the mind control one. Was that what he thought it was? Yes, a police radio, complete with transmitter. What had the Mad Hatter been planning to do with that? Robin shook his head. He decided he didn't care. So long the bad guy's scheme was foiled, what did it matter?

Robin had a police radio in his car but no way to communicate out. Batman was at times, very paranoid. Robin glanced around the studio keeping his eyes off the floor. The place was old and trying to fall apart. When he stared at the sets he felt as he had stepped into an old gothic horror film. There was no active phones around, he was more than willing to bet that was true.

Robin played with the buttons on the radio to see if it would work. It did. He heard police chatter. "Um," Robin said, "The Mad Hatter and a bunch of mind controlled victims are in an abandoned movie studio. Most of the victims are undressed." "Would you repeat that?" a female officer asked over the radio.

"Studio uh…" Robin looked up at an odd a bit of writing that was on the ceiling. "Studio 33...I think…at Argus Pictures. They're all unconscious. The sleep gas won't last long, thirty minutes at most. Come immediately!" "Uh, huh." The policewoman's tone was one of disbelief.

"I'm serious!" Robin snapped.

"Sure kid," the policewoman said still disbelieving, "You know it's illegal to use this frequency if-"

"Look," Robin said, interrupting her, "I'm Robin."

Once again the woman said, "Sure," in a insincere voice.

"It's Robin!" the teenager yelled, "Do you really want to take the chance that I not making this up? You deal with guys like the Joker and Mr. Freeze all the time. In fact Basil Karlo made his first appearance as Clayface at Argus Pictures! Is it so hard to believe that the Mad Hatter would show up there?"

There was silence on the radio for more than half a minute,. Nothing but static filled the airwaves. Robin muttered to himself, "I am never ever becoming a police officer. Never!"

Another soon voice came on the police radio. This one Robin knew. It was Commissioner Gordon. "Robin?!" he exclaimed "Yes," Robin said with a tired sigh.

"Son, are you alright?" Gordon asked.

No, Robin thought, he was not okay. There was at least a dozen things going wrong with his life. Batman was missing. Robin normally only went on light patrols during school nights unless there was an emergency. Because of Batman's absence he now was forced to stay to up to two every night for the past five days. While the criminal activity was light by Gotham standard it wasn't that low by any other standard. There were still some things the police couldn't easily handle. As Dick Grayson he still had to go school during the day and was now getting detentions for tardiness and sleeping in class. On top of all that Batgirl, who was now living in Metropolis, was refusing to return his calls. Batgirl who was really the commissioner's own daughter Barbara Gordon. There was so much that Robin was tempted to yell at the commissioner but Batman trained him better than that. He settled for saying the lie, "I'm fine."

"Where's Batman, son?" the commissioner asked.

Robin couldn't answer that. He told the commissioner what he had told the policewoman before then turned switched the radio off. Robin made his back to the Redbird. As he was leaving the Studio lot, the police cars and ambulances were arriving. He was more than happy to leave them to the job of the dealing with the mess. He just wanted to get home and go to bed. Before he could sleep though, he would have to file a report on the night's actives. Just because Batman was gone did not mean he could slack off.

Robin yawned then shook his head. He knew he messed up some way this night. He was too tired and too stressed to figure out all that he did wrong.

Robin was driving home, taking a long route because he did not want to run into the police. He passed the Gotham river. He happened to glance up. On top of the nearby suspension bridge, there was someone. Normal people could not get up there without proper tools and equipment. He couldn't tell from this distance if it was a man or woman. The figure was dark and shadowy. It stood out sharply against the white snow and the moonlight. Robin wanted to believe he imagined it. He knew he hadn't.

He fought back a yawn. He drove to the bridge. At this time of night there was almost zero traffic on the bridge. Robin parked along the side of the bridge. He got out and looked up. He still couldn't tell the person's gender. Robin pulled out the grabbling gun and shot up to the top to stand beside the person.

It was a woman, with long black hair. Her face was Asian, possibly Chinese. She looked at least twenty if not older. Her face didn't draw his attention for long. The symbol on her chest did. Her outfit was all black except for a large yellow utility belt and the yellow outline of a bat. Robin stared. He knew that symbol. It was the same shape as the bat design used by Batman.

"Alright," Robin said with sarcasm. He forced himself to look back up at the woman's face. "Who do you think you are? Batgirl?"

"No, my renegade," she said smiling, "This one's host form is not Batgirl. Not any longer. She is Black Bat. I am Lady Kali."

"Host form?" Robin asked. Was this women crazy? Kali…He had heard that name before. Some sort of mythical figure, a goddess or something. Beyond that the name meant nothing.

"I can see that you do not understand," Lady Kali said. She smiled at him invitingly. She was flirting with him!

Uh oh! This wasn't good. Every fiber in his being screamed that this woman was dangerous. Robin didn't understand why he felt this way but he did.

"My renegade," she said affectionately. "There is no reason to be afraid of me." She laughed a cruel malicious laugh.

"Um, lady," Robin said nervously, "I'm not your anything. I never even met you before!"

"Not yet," Kali said, "I forget sometimes that you were ever so young. For I never met you at this age. So young, so innocent."

"I'm not innocent!" Robin shouted.

"Oh?" Kali arched a brow. "Have you ever been with a woman?"

Robin blushed. He hated himself for doing that. It was embarrassing.

Kali laughed again. "Do not feel shame. It only means that this time you are mine and mine alone. Neither that alien princess nor those other warrior women shall have you."

"This time?" Robin felt more than nervous. He felt spooked. This woman seemed more dangerous to him than a furious Catwoman, and Catwoman was a top martial artist almost on the same level same Batman. Robin backed away. He found himself standing at the edge. Below was the pavement. It was a long way down.

"Perhaps you are right to fear me after all," she said, "You have not the experience of my renegade."

"Lady," Robin said, "I'm not your renegade."

"No?" Kali put a hand on Robin's chest. "No, you are not him, yet. You are the boy who will someday become the man that is him, my renegade. I will play a role in shaping you this time, my Richard."

Robin felt his jaw drop with shock. She knew his name! His real name. His legal first name. He was Richard John Grayson. Most people didn't know that Robin was Dick Grayson. In theory very few were supposed to know. The reality was that quite a few of the superhero crowd knew. The founding members of the Justice League knew, as did all of the original Teen Titans, and more than half of the current lineup of the Teen Titans West. And the list continued. Robin realized suddenly that at least twenty five or more knew. So who had betrayed him? It was almost impossible to know unless this Kali revealed the person. Oh sure, Batman might have been able to figure it out in no time flat, but Robin was not the detective that his mentor was.

Kali pushed him right over the edge. He fell toward the pavement below. Kali swept down on a grappling line of her own. She grabbed him. She matched his speed and slowed the two of them down until they stop on the road part of the bridge. She landed near Robin's car. She smiled viciously at him. "Did you thing I would let you fall? You are mine. You-" She went quiet. She let go of him. She moved backwards, clutching at her head. "No! Not now!" She fumbled for something in her utility belt. She pulled out a small vial. Her hand shook dropping the vial. The glass broke. A strange purplish liquid spilt out onto the road.

Robin stood there by the Redbird, looking at Kali. There was something weird about her facial expressions, as if she was fighting something. Her body language shifted becoming less confident. Her face became more gentle. "The drug fades," she said. The sound of her voice was different, the accent and speech patterns more awkward as if speaking was harder to do. "Kali and Slade…They drugged to suppress will. Drugs fades… no…wears off. It will take long time to work fully. Sorry, so sorry Dick. I can't fight her long. She is ghost. My ancestor, Mother's grandmother. Only powerful people does she want to possess the bodies of. Only her descendents does she want to keep possessing. I'm strong. Too strong to her without drugs. You are, you were once… like big brother to me."

"You're older than me!" Robin shouted, "I've never seen you before in my life!"

The women nodded. "Here, yes. Then no. Then years older than me. Met many times. Fought side by side. Don't change Dick. Don't become Renegade. Not fake. Not real. Don't. Nightwing yes. Renegade no." The way she kept saying the word Renegade, Robin knew she meant it as a name.

The way she was speaking, it was broken and fragmented. English must not have been her native language. It did not come natural to her. It sounded though as if she had been talking about time travel. Robin had seen some weird things over the past four years. This included alien invasions and giant robots. Batman had spoken of dealing with vampires less than a year before Robin had first met him. It wasn't hard to believe in time travel. He knew it happened. Also, this woman knew too many things. Almost no one was aware that Robin had used the name Nightwing during a trip to the bottled city of Kandor. As far as Robin knew, only Superman, Supergirl and various members of the Bat Family knew that tale.

Robin was lost in thought. He didn't notice fast enough as the woman ran at him. Her fist connected with his jaw and everything went black.

Robin woke up to a horrible smell. He was in the Redbird. The door was open. A familiar face was leaning over him. The man was middle age and thin, with thinning hair and a thin mustache. He was Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's butler and one of Batman's greatest allies. He was currently holding something in front of Robin's nose.

"Ugh! Alfred!" Robin yelled, "What is that?"

"Smelling Salts, Master Richard," Alfred said. He was holding a small bottle under Robin's nose.

"It smells alright!" Robin pushed Alfred's hands away. Alfred backed away out of the car standing straighter in the Batcave. He leaned against his cane with his left hand. Alfred was still not entirely recovered from injuries he received months ago in a very literal landslide. Injuries which had landed him in a coma for nearly a month.

Robin looked out the door at the roof of the Batcave. "Hey, how I did get here?"

Alfred raised his brows. "The car returned on it's own. I assumed young sir, that you ran into some sort of trouble. You must have set it to Autopilot."

"No," Robin said, "I didn't." He pulled the mask off his face. He yawned. "Say Alfred, what time is it?"

Alfred looked at his watch. "5:33 a.m. sir." "Aw no!" Dick had school in less than three hours. He glanced at the fuel indicator. The car was almost on empty. Dick removed a green glove from his left hand. With the glove still on his right hand he touched the buttons of the car's navigational system. The screen showed that the car had been driving itself all over Gotham for hours. Dick didn't feel rested at all. He knew why. He had been unconscious not asleep. There was a big difference between the two. He had been the victim of a very well done nerve strike. Whoever that woman was, Lady Kali or not, she was one heck of a fighter. Dick rose up out of the Redbird. He stretched. He stood. He wanted to sleep. He had a report to file first. He walked through the Batcave. A quick change of clothes five minutes later and he was in an a white tank top and grey sweatpants. Alfred had a no costumes rule that applied to the entire manor above. Alfred was seldom commanding but he was the one person who's rules must be obeyed.

Dick moved onward through the cave. He found his aunt, Harriet Cooper asleep in the chair in front of the Batcave's main computer. Dick smirked at her in an amused way, knowing that his legal guardian Bruce Wayne would not approve of this. Bruce wasn't here. As Batman he had gone missing with most of the Justice League.

The middle aged woman in Bruce's chair was slumped over, still dressed in a wrinkled dress that she had worn yesterday. Her pulled up grey and brown hair was coming down in places. Aunt Harriet was bossy, pushy and at times over bearing but she did care about Dick. She had shown up at the Wayne Manor not long before Alfred was seriously injured. She had helped run the manor in Alfred's stead. She was still helping out even as Alfred recovered.

Dick knew that Bruce hadn't liked her much at first. There had always been the fear that she would discover their secrets. And one day she did just that. Aunt Harriet surprisingly did not seem that upset or alarmed about Bruce being Batman. Dick being Robin was something of a different another matter.

Dick hated to disturb Aunt Harriet. If she saw how late it was she probably was going to go into lecture mode. He had to wake her though. He needed access to the computer.

Dick cautiously tapped Aunt Harriet on the shoulder. She woke up startled. "Wha? Heh?" she said looking around confused and bleary-eyed. "Oh, it's you, dear. You're back." As she became more alert, she shook her head disapprovingly. She stood and walked to nearby steps that led up to the manor.

Dick let out a sigh of relief. He seemed to have escaped his aunt's wrath. Then she turned around to look at him. It wasn't anger on her face. It was disappointment and worry. "If I thought it would do any good, I'd tell you to quit. But you're just like your father. You're no more willing give up this reckless lifestyle than John was the circus. I couldn't blame him. I loved the cirrus too when I was younger. If it was the circus that you were mixed up with, maybe I wouldn't be so concerned. You're not Bruce. You're not Batman."

"No," Dick said calmly, "I'm Robin. As long as Batman is gone I have to be out there every night. I have to protect the city in his place."

Aunt Harriet shook her head again. "How long can you keep that up? How long can we keep it up? Pretending that Bruce is still here. It'll be a week next Sunday since he disappeared. That's the day after tomorrow. The foundation that I've helping Bruce with. All those charity events I scheduled Bruce for…There's only so far, only so long that I can keep making excuses. Bruce is a public figure in this city. His absence will be noticed."

"So will Batman's!" Dick yelled. All the stress and repressed emotions boiled out. "Do you think I don't know that?! Arkham is a ticking time bomb! At any moment those lunatics could wreck havoc on the city! If they find out Batman's gone…" Dick shook. His self control was gone. He moved toward the chair that his aunt had recently vacated. He stood leaning against the back of the chair, clutching it tightly.

"You need to go to bed," Aunt Harriet said.

"No," Dick said, "I need to write up a report. It's what Bruce would do."

"I worry about you," Aunt Harriet said, "You're the only family I have left. But it's your life. You're old enough to make your own choices. I take back what I said about you being just like John. You're more stubborn than he ever was. " Dick heard Aunt Harriet's footsteps as she walked away. He heard other footsteps come his way. He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.

It was Alfred. "Come Master Richard," Alfred said, "Mrs. Cooper is right. You need your rest. The report will wait." Alfred guided Dick away from the computer and up the stairs to the manor.

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