A/N: I'm not dead! I was just really busy. Here's a story I wrote for a writing class at school. Please enjoy!
It wasn't always like this for Dick Grayson. Tied to a heavy weight in a camouflaged alien air ship flying clandestinely over the ocean. Soon to be dropped and drowned. Facing his worst two fears: falling and drowning.
Who knew being a vigilante was so dangerous? he thought sardonically. His red-breasted uniform was torn and burned. His mask, while still on his face, felt tattered. He was almost positive he'd lost a few teeth had been knocked out when he was kicked in the face by the masked men who had shanghaied him.
These guys are pros. They had to be. They were well-planned and neat, not letting anyone escape through a loophole. They worked in the shadows. That'd why the lighting in here sucks...They'd stolen a particle weapon without being noticed or caught, and when Robin went ahead of his partner, he was beaten on his own turf and kidnapped without a warning and without a trace. Now, they were tying up loose ends by killing the Boy Wonder and, soon, Batman, too. He's probably on his way now. They used me to blackmail him into coming here so they can kill both of us. We know too much about their operation.
Robin knew he'd seen them before, though he couldn't place exactly where he'd seen their dark, owl-like uniforms. A black covering over their heads was decorated with golden pieces shaped like an owl's eyes and beak. But where have I seen this before?
Focus on the present! The boy's training chimed in. He paused to observe his surroundings more closely. Focusing in the middle distance, he could see a door that must have lead to the cockpit and, across from it, was another door. A potential egress point. The smell of chemicals and alien metal burned his nostrils so much he could taste it in his mouth, right along with the metallic tang of blood. His captors were arguing in some language Robin couldn't translate. They kept spinning their heads around to look at the Boy Wonder, their disagreement flaring up through the space-age vessel. Tuning his ears to the outside, wind rushed around the ship as it moved evenly and swiftly through the sky, miles above the ocean below. Welp, you've really done it this time, Boy Wonder.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against the weight a little more, ignoring the hot pain that throbbed throughout his body. Who are these people? Mercenaries? They must be doing a job for the League of Assassins—I mean, judging from the gigantic particle weapon I saw at their headquarters, they have to work for some superterrorist organization—but I never caught a name…
He considered asking, but suddenly remembered his missing teeth and bloody mouth were the undesirable results of asking a question. Robin internally shook his head. Get it together, Grayson! You are the one and only Robin; you can get yourself out of this. And if you can't, Batman can. He's on his way now…right?
The men were still deeply enthralled in their argument (which had deescalated to what Robin believed to be name-calling), Robin reached his hand toward his hip to grab a batarang (both as a weapon and as a means of escaping his restraints), then realized how tightly bound his arms were. Great. He tried to flick open one of his tools on his high-tech gloves to cut the ropes, finding that his fingers had locked up. He couldn't move them at all. He froze.
Oh.
It wasn't that blue nylon ropes were too tight; it was that he was too weak. Have I've been injected with some alien toxin, maybe? Not asterous.
Robin began to struggle a little bit. His body lit up with a flame of red-hot anguish. He groaned in pain. That was when the little bird realized, These ropes administer a toxin to keep me out of the way, keep me sedated. The world around him started to spin. No, no, no, I need to escape, get to Bats. They have a particle weapon and he's the only person who will know what to do. If these owl guys work for al Ghul, there's no telling how many people are going to be killed. Gotta stop them…
His mind started racing through memories. This wasn't curtains for the young hero; he'd just been drugged. Robin realized this, but nevertheless was terrified. Batman, help.
After his parents were murdered by the crooked mobster Tony Zucco, Dick had taken in by billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne. Despite initially being frightened of him, Dick quickly became enthralled with Bruce. He saw him as a father-like figure; not his own father, but someone he could look up to and someone who he could rely on. A person he could surely trust. He loved Bruce; he could never replace his parents, but he was the closest person to them, one of the people he knew he could always trust to do the best thing.
One of the boy's fondest memories with Bruce was playing tag. It hadn't exactly been only tag. "Hide-and-seek tag," as Dick had told Alfred, the Wayne family butler. "It's the perfect game for any day, no matter how gloomy you are." The rules were: no leaving the house (the Batcave is okay, but the roof, yard, and outside the property are off limits), no fires (long story behind that one), and no asking Alfred where the other one went (though Alfred had almost always silently gestured with a knowing smile as a not-so-anonymous tip).
A memory flooded Dick's senses. He recognized it immediately as the first time he and Bruce had played the game. It had been a time when Dick still couldn't speak English well and when he hadn't learned how to pick locks or where to hit people to knock them out but not kill them. Robin relaxed as he watched the memory, soothed by the familiarity of the mansion that he called his home.
Dick had been lonely all day, since he was being homeschooled by Alfred. Boredom had nearly put him to sleep and loneliness made him more bored. Between this and that he hadn't been on a trapeze since his parents' death, the hyperactive acrobat was nearly stir-crazy. Bruce had come home early from work, due to reasons Dick had never bothered to remember. To greet him, Dick stood on the banister at the top of stairs in the great hall. He smiled and gave a cheery wave. "Hi, Bruce!" the little acrobat had greeted, a Romani accent faintly on his tongue. Then, he effortlessly slid down, riding the slick railing on his socked feet, jumped and flipped when he reached the foot, and landed perfectly beside his guardian. He bowed, pleased with himself.
It had taken a while for Bruce to get used to Dick pulling stunts like that. The fear of his ward falling or getting hurt stabbed his heart whenever Dick did a flip or jumped from the balcony to perform the perfect triple backflip or swung from the chandelier upside down, but he no longer tried to stop him from doing these things. He understood that it was something the boy found joy in and Bruce didn't want to take away one of the only things that made the orphan happy, especially after he'd lost so much. And Dick was grateful for Bruce's understanding.
Bruce chuckled softly, bending down one knee beside his ward and ruffling the boy's wild hair. "Hey, Dickie. Did you have a good day?"
Dick's face fell into an adorable pout, his azure eyes growing ever larger. "No. Alfred only let me have one cookie."
His guardian chuckled again, aware he was being manipulated by the eight year old. "Let's see if he'll let you have another one, then."
He stood up, turning to leave for the kitchen. This was when Dick got a brilliant idea. He would play a game with Bruce. He'd been lonely all day and his guardian had been at the office so he must've been lonely, too. There was no way Bruce wouldn't play along. He tapped Bruce's hand. "Tag!"
Dick turned tail and made a beeline for the stairs. He felt something he hadn't felt since the circus. Mirth. He almost stopped when he glanced back at Bruce, who had looked over his shoulder. He watched Bruce crack a smile. The boy giggled madly as he saw Bruce chasing him. He screeched as he sped off faster down one of the corridors, hoping to throw Bruce off.
He flung open doors, ran through libraries, sitting rooms, and studies. Bruce chased him, feigning exhaustion to let the small acrobat run ahead. As soon as Bruce started to catch up, Dick ducked into the unused servants' passages, scrambling for a hiding spot. Bruce chuckled to himself at the boy's naivety and kept running past the servants' door, letting the boy have his victory in successfully hiding.
After Bruce had passed, Dick climbed back into the hallway. Chortling, he took a right, a left, a left, and another right. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw a dead end. A single linen closet provided no escape. He heard Bruce in one of the halls behind him. No, I can't be caught!
The eight year old desperately looked around when he saw it: the perfect hiding spot, and the perfect trick to match. A devious grin spread across his face as he opened the linen closet, pulled a sheet corner, carefully placed it where it would stick out a tad under the door, and then closed the closet somewhat loudly so Bruce would hear it before climbing to this ideal spot.
From his hidden nest, he watched Bruce stroll down the hall, opening doors to empty bedrooms. He was saying, "Hmm…where is he? Where is Dickie? He's disappeared!"
Dick giggled at this. Bruce's gaze moved lightheartedly to the closet and smiled knowingly at the corner of sheet sticking out from under the door and crept quietly to the linen closet. Dick held his breath, trying not to laugh and give away his hiding spot.
Bruce's hand was on the silver doorknob when another impish giggle escaped Dick's mouth. The door flew open and Bruce exclaimed, "A-ha!"
The acrobat watched spryly as his guardian stopped, rather perplexed, upon seeing that there was no child in the closet. Dick laughed, delighted at his success, flipped from his hiding spot in an old, unemployed light fixture and taking off down the hall, and scrambled into the nearest servants' passage door.
Down, down, down the spiral stairs Dick ran, jumping from landing to landing, skipping stairs here and there. The little acrobat shrieked with excitement when he heard Bruce on the stairs above him. Flipping to the foot of the flight, Dick saw two doors. He opened the second as fast as his small hands could manage and clambered into a cabinet the scullery maids used for kindling back at the turn of the twentieth century. He caught his breath, wild giggles escaping him while he waited for Bruce to look for him.
After what seemed like an eternity, he opened the cabinet door a crack, peering out. After he was sure he didn't see Bruce around the room, he was very confused because how could Bruce not know where he was? There had only been two doors. He tentatively pushed open the cabinet, and tumbled out silently. He squatted low on the floor, ready to spring and evade if Bruce suddenly opened the door. Something wasn't right…like somebody was watching him.
Dick squealed, gleefully surprised, as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Tag."
Bruce leapt from his spot on the top of the cabinet gracefully, glanced at his ward mischievously, and jogged ("ran" to the eight year old) up the staircase.
"Hey!" The acrobat dashed to the stairs, propelling himself up the flights by using the railings, laughing jubilantly. This was the most fun the boy had had in months! He was hot on Bruce's tail. He couldn't catch up, but he never lost sight of him. He wasn't paying attention to where he was running; he was focused on tagging Bruce.
He chased Bruce, turn after turn, until he found himself in the kitchen. The setting sun spilled rays of warm across the immaculate room. The boy welcomed the warm sense of family, a feeling he had been deprived of for a long time. The smell of fresh-baked cookies flooded his nose. Alfred's cookies!
Game forgotten, Dick's mouth watered as Alfred presented a dish of chocolate chip cookies, served only in the Wayne Manor kitchen. "You may have two, sir."
Alfred was smiling kindly as the small gymnast happily took a few cookies. He sat at the breakfast bar on a high stool next to Bruce. They happily ate their cookies, dunking them into cold milk, enjoying the snack and the company.
That day, Dick was saved from boredom and loneliness. When Bruce had taken him in, Dick was saved from being a lonely, unwanted orphan.
A painful jolt shocked Robin awake. Disoriented, he looked up. One of the owl men had kicked the boy in the ribs sharply to wake him from his drug-induced daze. Right…I'm still here as a prisoner. The owl man motioned callously to a closed hatch on the side of the ship. And a soon-to-be-dead one at that. Falling thousands of feet through the air and sinking to the bottom of the ocean where my body may or may not be recovered. The young hero forced himself to keep his cool. No use in panicking. Then, the owl goon held up his palm, showing five gloved fingers. Robin read this quickly.
It was a warning. The owl man was literally telling him, "Your death is imminent in five minutes." Why is he telling me this?
The owl man peered over his shoulder, glancing at the other owl in the cockpit. Assured that the pilot wasn't looking through the small pane of glass in the door, he pointed heatedly—no, desperately—toward the door at the back, leading away from the cockpit and the hatch.
The owl worked quickly, the undoing the boy's restraints, pecking at them with fast fingers. Pressing his finger against his beak, he injected the Boy Wonder with a syringe of a thick, purplish substance. An antidote? The owl man silently bowed his head, as Robin stood up, wobbling a little, the effects of the poison almost entirely vanishing from his system. With no time to ask why he was being freed or what the weapon was going to be used for, the acrobat looked with perplexed gratitude at the silent owl man, who dipped his head in solemn respect. With one last glance of thankfulness, the boy took off. He soundlessly darted out the door, his second nature of every precaution that had been drilled into his character from intensive training taking over his every move.
Out of the room, the bird could hear his communication system start to work. Static. They're jamming the signal!
Only a matter of time before someone notices I'm not where I'm supposed to be. Robin was strategically thinking out what to do as he navigated the corridors with ease. Should I go to the air dock where can Bats find me and we can take these guys together? Do I find the weapon? He slipped into an air duct, crawling with swift proficiency. He stopped just before he reached the end of the tunnel to check his utility belt, hoping for a tool or weapon to arm himself with. Empty. Those jerks took my stuff!
As soon as that thought ran through his mind, a loud buzzer went off all over the ship. As the lights flashed red, owl men started rushing through the halls, carry large swords and staffs.
Oh, I am so not whelmed right now.
The small bird waited for the blinking red corridor to empty before slipping out of the duct, landing in a low squat. There are too many lives at risk. I can't get caught.
The memory of hide-and-seek tag shot through his mind again. A grin crept across his face. He would hide and they would seek. If they found him, he'd run and they would seek. Fine. I'll play their little "chase" game. But, I'm gonna win. And, I think I need cookies when I get home…
The little bird stealthily dashed through the corridors, confident that he would beat them. He stopped at a computer he'd found. Plugging a USB drive from his glove into the computer, the acrobat easily hacked the air ship's security, programming it to perform a very specific task. Then, using his code, he overrode all electronics, communications, and security locks and routed them through his glove. Now, he was in control. Perfect.
He found his way back to the holding room behind the cockpit, allowing the owl men to detect him as he had gone through the halls before. Purposely leading them to believe they were cornering him. This will trick them for sure.
The lights in there weren't working, hence why it had been so dark. Advantages of being so small, Robin snickered to himself as he, in a single second, climbed on the unused light hanging from the ceiling. Now, we wait.
Moments later, a few squadrons of owl men rushed into the room, swords drawn. They exasperatedly were searching for their prisoner, silently giving each other orders. Almost time.
When they had moved far enough from the Boy Wonder's exit, he gracefully launched himself backwards from the light fixture, springing himself just outside the door. "I'm talon you, bird-brains; if you don't let up, owl have to leave!"
The owl men's heads swung around, aghast. Robin cheekily laughed, "Hoo will save you now? Have a nice time in your cage!"
With the simple stroke of a key and a mischievous smirk, the cockpit door snapped shut, the hatch leading to the outside sealed tight, bars closed off the single air vent large enough for a person to crawl through, and the door in front of the Boy Wonder slammed down, all exits latched and sealed. This ship was built for space war, probably built stronger than Superman himself; there was no way those owls were getting out without a computer command from the new ringmaster, Robin. They banged on the doors, yelling and cursing, but they fully knew they were the prisoners now and that the thirteen year old in front of them called the shots now.
Two squads down, a bunch more to go. With an impish chortle, the boy took off down the corridor, hopeful and confident in his ability to hold these owl men.
Bruce is on his way. I'll just wreak havoc until he gets here.
It's just hide-and-seek tag.