Author's Note: I am writing further chapters for Fear, Family and Forge. However, I just thought of this idea last night and decided I wanted to bulk up my portfolio just a little more by adding it today ahead of any others currently in publication that require further instalments. Set shortly after Tim returns from his global trip to become a better Robin to Bruce, this story deals with his introduction to Jim Gordon, flaunts his superior detective skills, demonstrates his fighting ability and his differences from his predecessors. A pertinent note is that Tim has just started out as Robin and is still finding his feet. Who better to narrate a detailed report of his partner's performance than Bruce? Nobody, that's who. Enjoy.
Tim
"Your new boy is something different." Jim Gordon informs me whilst Robin is on the other side of the GCPD rooftop, analysing something for him on my behalf. "He seems more…precocious than his predecessors." I stare at my long-time friend and ally.
"What exactly are you implying?" Jim re-lights his pipe and takes a long drag before responding. He shrugs his shoulders.
"You never let them analyse case information on your behalf; they are just boys after all. But, within minutes of meeting this one for the first time, I watch you hand over the evidence bag without a word." Jim glances away from the boy, focusing his gaze on me, "Is he really as good as you? And I mean in the detective department, not his fighting prowess which I'm sure is outstanding." I answer without returning his gaze; I am studying Robin's body language for clues.
"He has the potential to be even better." Jim seems to accept my judgement without question, nodding in silent approval. He gestures at the boy.
"I'm glad this one has a more self-conscious fashion sense than his predecessors. I always thought those shorts were a little too revealing for a young man." I smile, recalling Dick's original decision for 'pixie shorts' to be part of the Robin outfit and how inappropriate I thought the idea. This Robin does seem more mature for wearing tights, as strange as that may sound.
"This one is very conscious of public image. He needs some secrets." I say as the boy begins to wander back over to present his findings.
"He needs feeding is what he needs." Jim mutters to me under his breath as Robin draws level with us. I suppose he is rather short and slim for his age.
"What have you discovered?" I inquire. The boy indicates the evidence bag and then begins what appears to be a very measured speech of his deductions.
"The owner of this ring is a Russian mobster as evidenced by the Cyrillic alphabet inscription on the inside, along with its style, size and material. Judging from the size and style of the ring, I'd say the perpetrator is male, roughly in his mid to late thirties, is about six-two or six-four and left-handed." Jim Gordon is compelled to interrupt my partner's flow with a very obvious question.
"How do you know he was left-handed? A ring can't tell you which hand it's been on." The boy responds with a puzzled expression in such a way as to suggest the answer is elementary. He holds the bag out for the man to scrutinize.
"It's a wedding ring, Sir. The inscription inside reads to my darling Sergei, I love you Natalia. I believe the victim's blood on this ring would confirm a proficiency at punching with left hand would it not?" Robin is not being facetious or condescending in his manner; he is courteous, something Jim is definitely responding well to. Instead of being embarrassed, he nods in appreciation of the boy's explanation.
"Yes, quite right. Please go on."
"So, based on all this information, I would have to say the individual we're looking for is Sergei Kruchev, a one-time super heavyweight boxing champion who was reputed for his southpaw style, now turned enforcer for Mikhail Kafelnikov, head of the Russian crime syndicate operating out of The Bowery. You'll probably find him at Barney's Bar in the Upper-East Side." Robin continues with a slight smile. Jim looks both astonished and very impressed with my new boy's detective skills. I must admit I too am impressed; he has really studied the intelligence reports I gave him. It may have taken a trip to the cave for me to arrive at the same conclusion. Jim has to ask.
"Why Barney's Bar?"
"Poker game on Thursdays. The ring's been pawned at least four times going off the typical scratches such jewellery gets sitting on a pawn-broker's shelf all week and that poker game is the only one that will accept something like this for collateral. Plus, Kruchev is a notorious gambler and his game of choice is poker. Seeing as his address is listed only one block over from Barney's and tonight is Thursday it seems only logical that, despite losing his ring, his compulsion to gamble will compel him to attend tonight's big game. He'll probably use the money he got from the victim to buy his way in."
I turn to my friend after a few long moments of silence. "What do you think Jim?" The man nods his head slowly, his eyes never leaving the boy's even as he reaches for his radio to relay the information. Robin looks at me for approval. I give him a restrained thumb-up gesture and watch his smile break out into a grin in the aftermath. The boy wants my praise. He has earned it tonight, beyond doubt. Once two cars have been dispatched to Barney's Bar, Jim is quick to offer his thanks.
"That was remarkable, young man. I can see why our friend here selected you to be his partner. I look forward to seeing more of you over the coming weeks." The man tells Robin with the utmost sincerity when shaking the boy's hand.
"Thank you, Sir. I was glad to be of assistance." Thus far, his manners have been impeccable. It bodes well for his future relationship with Jim.
"We have to go now, Jim. If you require our assistance on anything else, do not hesitate to contact us." I say before turning and walking towards the edge of the roof. I motion for my partner to follow. There is a quick rush of feet and suddenly he is beside me, ready to leap into the abyss.
"Enjoy yourselves." I hear Jim call to us before we are out of earshot. The night is still young and this boy has something to prove to me. Whilst transiting across Gotham's skyline using grapnels, I am quick to note this Robin's particular style of movement is not unlike Dick's, but has the practiced air of Jason's. It is very odd and somehow appropriate that both his predecessors' distinct styles form part of his own identity. The city is quiet tonight, but still offers ample opportunity for my partner to showcase his other talents. In The Narrows, a woman is being assaulted by a gang of heavily tattooed men, possibly part of the Hispanic group known as Los Diablos Silencos, The Silent Devils, a gang prevalent in this area of Gotham. The probability of such a crime degenerating into gang-rape and then murder is alarmingly high. As such, we enter the fray as soon as possible, descending from above like birds of prey attempting to take their quarry by surprise. The tactic proves effective.
I block access from the woman while Robin reduces their number. The boy does not wait, immediately deploying his collapsible bow-staff to account for his lack of muscle-mass, and cutting down two of them with a simple but efficient drill. It involves striking low on the initial target, usually the diaphragm to wind them instantly although the boy opts just for the ribs, and then blocking the second target's counter-strike and delivering a high strike to the temple or bridge of the nose. This drill focuses more on technique than brute strength to put down targets, requiring perfect use of pivots and channelling of all available bodyweight to ensure effectiveness. Robin performs it flawlessly before dodging attempted blows from the three remaining hostiles. One telegraphed haymaker allows my partner to parry the blow and utilize the assailant's momentum to launch them over his shoulder and into the wall whilst another more conservative kick gives him sufficient leeway to step inside the opponent and deal a devastating hit to their exposed groin area. And so, after only twenty seconds, he only has one person to contend with from five. Impressive.
This final opponent tries to even the playing field by producing a handgun, but Robin is unperturbed by the surprise. The boy glances briefly to his left knowing the gunman's curiosity will cause him to do the same. When he does lose his focus on my partner for that split second, Robin cracks away the weapon with his staff before delivering a flying kick, connecting with the target's lower jaw and breaking it in the aftermath. All hostiles are incapacitated and no longer pose a threat to the victim's safety. Arriving at that stage with the minimum level of fanfare and fuss proves to me that the boy is ideal for this life and this work. The woman is attended to by the police officers who arrived on scene only minutes later. GCPD are conducting more wide-sweeping patrols of the city than ever before; six months ago, they would not have been anywhere near this side of the river. It is satisfying to see Jim's efforts only serve to improve the force's efficiency. It bodes well. Once the woman is in transit to the hospital, we return to normal patrol duties.
It is another four hours until we return to the cave. In that space of time, we have foiled two robberies, stopped three additional assaults and gathered preliminary intelligence reports on several criminal rackets currently operating in the city. Throughout the entire night, Robin has conducted himself with the utmost decorum and admirable professionalism. His fighting 'prowess' as Jim called it has been greatly enhanced by his global trip and dealings with King Cobra. Although slightly wooden at times in his approach and being somewhat awkward at executing paired manoeuvres, he is more than capable of patrolling solo. His input in reconnaissance and compiling information on suspects also gives me a strong sense of security about taking business-related trips and leaving Gotham in his care. My only real problem with him is his quiet nature.
During the car-rides and transiting through the city, the boy is practically mute; I am used to my partners talking and filling the silence; this Robin does not do that, preferring instead to reflect on matters. In that way, he is very like me and I find I do not like the dynamic it creates. He does not exercise his tongue during battle to deliver quips either, nor does he have any nicknames for me besides Batman or Bruce. Perhaps he is still nervous despite his probationary period being most definitely finished; he has proven himself worthy of the mantle. His training for the role was almost three-times as severe as his predecessors, the examinations themselves demanding a pass mark of ninety-eight per-cent or above; anything below was considered a fail and therefore unacceptable. He did not fail a single written exam, although several re-tests were required on the physical training aspects; he is not the athlete Dick was or the iron-willed juggernaut Jason made himself. Added to that fact is this is not my ward as previously; this boy and I have a strictly professional arrangement, not a life together; he has a father and a step-mother to go home to every night. Because of this, my scrutiny of his behaviour in the field is incredibly intense. That he performs as well as he does under my gaze and lofty standard is nothing short of astonishing.
"Tim?"
"Yeah Bruce?"
"How do you think tonight went?"
"I think well. What do you think?"
"I think you performed very well and definitely left an impression on the commissioner."
"You don't think I was too cocky, do you?"
"I did not get that impression from you."
"Was there anything I did wrong?
"Not that I can recall in any great detail." That is a slight omission. I did note two instances where I believed the boy's behaviour was not of the expected standard; the first when applying restraints to a suspect until police arrival (his body position left him vulnerable to attack from the perpetrator), and the second when side-stepping an opponent instead of simply delivering a knock-out blow. Those minor incidents aside, I cannot fault his overall performance. We arrive at the cave a few moments after finishing our conversation.
"I'm gonna go home now, unless you need me for anything else tonight." Tim informs me once he is changed into his civilian clothes. His Robin suit is neatly packed in the holdall he brings with him every evening, alongside some ancillaries. I too am now in civilian dress and about to attend to tonight's intelligence as he tells me this.
"No. You can go. I'll see you tomorrow night, Tim." I pause briefly. "Are you sure you don't want Alfred to drive you home?" The boy shakes his head.
"It's three in the morning; Alfred needs his sleep too. I'll just take the bike."
"Be careful. Despite the hour there may still be some traffic."
"I'll be fine. See you later." With that said, my newly christened fifteen-year-old partner turns his back on me and exits the cave; he keeps his bike in the house garage instead of the cave floor. I watch him leave and cannot help but agree with Jim…
The boy needs to eat more.