Why do we do it? What compels us to don skintight spandex and learn martial arts to take down bank robbers and gangs? I'm wearing a green leotard and a yellow cape for god's sake!
Robin was on patrol, sitting on the edge of a cold grey building, staring out into the Gotham night. For once Batman had left him to his own devices, giving him time to think, as the wind bit and nipped at his bare legs. Perhaps he would have been better off with Batman, instead of left with his own thoughts, which so often took him to morbid places. But here he was, the darkness listening to his musings.
Are we impaired somehow, do we have a lust for violence only matched by criminals? Does that make us as bad as them? Bruce believes so strongly that good and evil are as different as day and night, pardon the cliché. I don't know if I agree, maybe we're more similar than we like to think. No, we're not. There's no way, Grayson. You're not thinking right, how could you be anything like that psycho "the Joker"?
Robin had begun to make his way to a suitable edge of the building, taking out his grappling hook, he swung down, looking over the city, still alight with neon and sirens. As he gracefully on his rope, memories of flight, and lives past flooded him.
He always both loved and hated using the grappling hooks, reminding him of his life in the circus, and of his life lost, dragged from him by a broken trapeze rope. But duty called, whether he was a hero, or just as bad as a criminal, whether he was normal, or whether he had some kind of mental condition making him this way, duty called. And Robin would answer.