Author's note: I am back! I apologize profusely for not updating my stories in forever. As some of you may know, my father had several rather serious health problems around this time last year, and he ultimately passed away this past April. My dad was like my best friend and this has understandably wreaked havoc with my inspiration. It's been really hard to get back into the proper headspace for writing, especially for such a story that features a close father-son relationship. I hope I still have an audience out there and that you're still looking forward to my updates. I am attempting to do NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this November, so updates should be coming regularly over the next few weeks if it all goes according to plan. Thank you for your continued patience and understanding, and I hope you enjoy the continuation of my Batman saga!

On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin
Chapter 2 – Scarred

When we last left our Dynamic Duo, Batman had just sped off in the Batmobile to investigate a possible lead in his latest battle against the Joker. Let's see where his clues have taken him this time!

The Batmobile screeched to a halt outside the Joker's Wild Card Company, an old and defunct factory that used to be one of the largest suppliers of playing cards in Gotham City and the surrounding areas. A tiny part of Batman suspected that this location just might be too easy, too obvious, but he wasn't sure where else to go. Both he and Dick had been at a loss as to what the Joker could possibly be up to, so there wasn't any harm in checking this out, was there? After all, it was better than sitting around and wondering.

Sure, it could be a trap, but Batman would simply have to stay on his toes. That was all. Nothing much new there. It was simply par for the course when these dastardly criminals were involved.

As he got out of the Batmobile, Batman's eyes went from the large loading dock at the rear of the factory up towards the windows on the second and third floors. He took a moment to weigh his options, wondering which would be the best way to enter. The windows had been boarded up, but Batman quickly spotted one on the third floor where the boards had begun falling away. Only one weathered plank remained completely in place, while another splintered board looked to be hanging on by a nail or two.

Even if the Joker was here, it was unlikely, Batman decided, that his gang would be using the top floor of the building. They'd most likely be drawn to the convenience of the first floor or the second floor at the very least. Batman couldn't see any reason for them to trudge up to the third floor of all things. Batman could easily sneak down on them from above if that was the case.

Quickly drawing his Batarang from his utility belt, Batman looked up at the building, deciding on the best place to secure his rope. He finally decided on the parapet, the short, protective brick wall on the edge of the roof, just next to the smokestack. Leaning back and raising his arm above his head, Batman threw his Batarang up above the third floor towards the roof. The Batarang curved neatly around the bricks that marked the edge of the roof, latching itself securely onto the other side. Batman quickly gave the rope a few sharp tugs before he began his ascent towards the third floor.

When Batman reached his destination, he braced himself on the Batrope, then quickly wrapped one gloved hand on the lower board that still covered the window. This plank had already been loose, so one of the nails gave way quickly. The other nail, however, still remained in place. Batman then simply let the board drop vertical, leaving it hanging on by the small piece of metal.

Batman reached up for the second board next. This one was still quite a bit more secure, so he had to tug on it several times before he was able to pry the nails out. When he finally removed the board, he hesitated for a moment. He glanced down at the ground, deciding he couldn't simply let the board drop; it could easily hit a passerby in the area and hurt them. Safety first was always one of his priorities. Luckily, the window itself had already been broken by the years of neglect, so Batman very slowly and carefully pushed the board inside. He didn't release his grip on it until it was steadily resting at an angle between the floor and wall below the window; it wouldn't do to possibly warn the Joker's gang of his presence by carelessly dropping the board and making a racket.

Next, Batman hoisted himself up a little more on the rope, nimbly climbing over the ledge of the window and setting his boots down carefully on the other side. A part of him was surprised by what he saw, but then again, another part of him had entirely been expecting it. It had all been too easy, just as Batman surmised as he had pulled up to the building.

The Joker was sitting at a small playing card table with three of his minions just across the room. They were playing some sort of card game; they all appeared entirely enthralled in the cards in their hands and didn't seem to have noticed Batman enter. Batman didn't know what else he expected them to be doing. What else would have occupied their time at a playing card company after all?

The henchman to the Joker's left reached across the corner of the table, pulling one of the cards from the Joker's hand. The minion immediately grimaced in dissatisfaction as he turned the card around while the Joker began to laugh maniacally. It took Batman only a moment to realize they were playing Old Maid of all things. Not Poker like Batman had been expecting. Not even Gin Rummy or Hearts. No. The great Clown Prince of Crime was playing a children's card game.

"I would have thought such a daring criminal would have outgrown Old Maid by now," Batman commented, carefully setting his hands on his utility belt, ready for action.

Neither the Joker nor any of his minions seemed the least bit perturbed by Batman's voice echoing across the room. The Joker simply looked up at Caped Crusader like this was something they did every day and replied, "Old Maid is a classic game that harkens back to childhood, yeah. Besides, in all the time it's taken for you to show up here, we've tired of everything else, haven't we, boys?"

The henchman now holding the Old Maid card replied, "You said we were just too stupid to keep up with anything else, Boss."

The Joker rolled his eyes. "You're also too stupid to know when to keep your mouth shut, you dunderhead!" he snapped.

So they had been waiting for him. Batman didn't entirely find this surprising either. "You know," Batman said by way of an explanation, "I must admit that it took me a while to arrive at such an obvious solution. Your…helpers aside, you're beyond this, aren't you? Leaving playing cards when you want me to come to a playing card company? Why not just spray paint the address in big red letters somewhere? That would make it just as clear."

The Joker didn't answer this, but instead leaned back in his folding chair, letting out one of his signature hyena-like laughs. He began laughing so hard, he was kicking his feet up and down against the cement floor, letting up little motes of dust every time he did.

Once he had calmed down, the Joker said, "You clearly haven't arrived at the bigger solution yet, otherwise you wouldn't even be here." He paused for a moment, taking a moment to look over the cards in his hands. Without looking up at Batman, he added, "Sometimes much simpler clues are necessary for when you're having your own dunderhead moments." When the Joker raised his eyes to his adversary again, he said, "Such as now."

"And how do you intend on finishing that 'bigger solution' when I don't plan on letting you leave?" Batman asked, taking a few steps across the room.

"Isn't it delicious?" the Joker asked his followers, finally standing up from his chair. They all followed suit as the Joker added, "He thinks he has us right where he wants us, and he doesn't even realize that the said 'bigger solution' may already be well on its way to being complete."

"Is it just me, Boss," one the Joker's minions asked, "or is Batman getting dimmer and dimmer by the moment?" The four of them began closing the distance.

Batman didn't think this man was one to talk when the Joker had just been commenting on their lack of intelligence, but that wasn't important just then. As it was, Batman didn't like being so close to the wall with so little room to move around. He slowly sidestepped to the left and farther into the room as his opponents approached, allowing himself a bit more freedom of movement.

"Definitely dimmer, Jack," the Joker said, nodding.

This was when Batman noticed that all three henchmen were wearing nametags, labeling them as Jack, King, and Ace. The Joker was nothing if not predictable and here he was, insulting Batman's intelligence. Although he never commented on it, Batman always vaguely wondered if the nametags were meant to be ironic, or if the various villains he faced genuinely needed them.

"I still bet I can beat you while outnumbered," Batman simply said, widening his stance and raising his fists beside him.

"We'll see about that," the Joker drawled, launching himself in Batman's direction.

Batman easily dodged out of the way, then pivoted on his feet and landed a punch in the Joker's side. The Joker let out a heavy breath as the wind was knocked out of him, then took several steps backwards. However, it wasn't long before King came at him next, his own fists flailing aimlessly around in the air. It occurred to Batman that this particular henchman wasn't a particularly good fighter, but Batman chose not to say anything. Instead, he focused all of his energy on landing a well-aimed punch square in King's jaw.

King went flying out of the way, and Batman only had a moment to reflect on how easy this was. Something in the back of his mind told him this was all going horribly wrong, but he pushed the thought away as Ace came running at him. The henchmen didn't even bother to punch him or hit him in any way; rather, Ace simply used his hands to push Batman square in the chest. Not quite prepared for the impact, Batman backed up a few steps, trying to catch his balance. He stuck out one of his hands, planting his palm squarely on the wall to balance himself. He was now standing along the wall to the left of the window, and it occurred to him that there was a door just a few feet behind him. Batman made a mental note of this, briefly wondering where it led to, before rejoining the fray.

In the end, he wouldn't have to wonder about what was behind the door for long.

The Joker had circled around the room, coming up behind Batman. Easily following the criminal out of the corner of his eye, Batman quickly turned around, putting up an arm to block a punch. Then Jack was next to approach him, grabbing onto Batman's utility belt from his left. Batman turned, attempting to punch Jack, but then his hands quickly went to his belt. Yes, it was important to ward these men off, but at the same time, he didn't want to imagine the kind of trouble he might be in if he lost his utility belt.

Batman, however, was just a bit too slow. Jack had already happened to unbuckle the belt, pulling it down and away from Batman. Batman quickly lunged for it, but he realized his mistake too late. The Joker had firmly wrapped his arms around Batman's middle, turning and thrusting him back towards the wall.

For a moment, Batman prepared for the impact with the steel door that stood behind him. However, the door was no longer there. One of the minions had apparently pulled it open while his back had been turned. Batman was shoved into the dim and narrow room that laid beyond it and he stumbled again, attempting to regain his balance.

Batman squinted his eyes, straining to see in the darkness. He quickly realized that the only source of light in the small room was coming from above. When Batman raised his eyes to this source, he saw a sky blue circle of light several hundred feet up with a few puffy white clouds floating by. He was in the factory's smokestack.

Batman quickly turned on his feet in the effort to get out of there, but just a moment later, the door had slammed shut. This metallic sound echoed impossibly hard and loud off of the rounded walls, causing Batman to flinch slightly at the noise.

Batman immediately lunged for the door, hoping to wrench it back open. He still couldn't quite see what he was doing, but he laid his hands flat against the cold, hard metal at about waist height. He desperately ran them back and forth across the door's width, searching for a doorknob, but there wasn't one. If there had been one at some point, it had been removed and even the hole where it would have been had been covered up.

His only other option now was to try and break the door down. Batman was already fairly certain that this wouldn't work considering how large and heavy the door was, but he decided he had to try. He immediately stepped backwards then ran forward again, sprinting full force into the door with his right shoulder. This, however, only resulted in a loud metallic echoing sound and a painful jolt expanding through his arm, shoulder, and into his back.

Batman opened his mouth in a silent cry of pain, turning backwards and leaning heavily into the door. He pressed the back of his head into the door, staring up at the round patch of blue sky above. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy. They had wanted to trap him in the smokestack all along. It really had been too easy – the mindless and disorganized fighting style of the henchmen and the way they had happened to draw him towards the smokestack door. Batman supposed he wasn't entirely surprised by this either, but he struggled to wrap his mind around what the Joker's ultimate plan could be.

Once the radiating pain in the right side of his body began to fade, Batman slowly stepped away from the door. He turned around and backed up in an effort to try and take in more of the room, to figure out exactly what he was dealing with, but that had turned out to be a very bad idea indeed. His left heel didn't find anything to settle onto, causing Batman to tip backwards, swinging his arms wildly behind him in an effort to catch his balance.

"Careful," came the Joker's voice over some sort of loudspeaker. "You're on a very narrow platform in there. You probably can't see it right now. Not until your eyes adjust to the darkness, but I wouldn't make any reckless movements if I was you."

Batman sucked in a breath of air, his arms still waving madly in the air. He desperately glanced up at the sky far above him, briefly wondering if that would be the very last thing he would see on this earth. But then he somehow miraculously steadied himself and managed to swing himself forward, taking a step away from the very precarious edge of the plank beneath him.

Batman's eyes were still adjusting, so he didn't dare move again until he had a better idea of where he was. His eyes darted around the narrow room instead, waiting for the room to begin to take shape out of the dimness that surrounded him.

"Very good," the Joker's voice cackled over the loudspeaker. "It wouldn't have been much fun if you had fallen right in."

This immediately caused Batman to look downwards, wondering exactly what he would have fallen into. He still couldn't quite see, so the Joker answered this unspoken question for him.

"Hydrochloric acid," the Joker said. "There's a shallow pool of it all the way down there. An ugly way to die. If you survive the three story drop, that is. I'm not quite sure which one would be worse."

Batman would have taken the much quicker instant death that would have awaited him after such a drop rather than the slow and agonizing death by acid. He kept his mouth shut, however. He certainly wouldn't give the Joker the satisfaction.

It occurred to Batman that he could just begin to make out the edges of the platform he was standing on. It was as wide as the door itself, a good three feet, and spanned about half of the room. The room was probably about twelve feet wide in all, again leaving Batman to wonder exactly what the Joker had planned with it. He supposed, however, that the platform he was standing on could more or less be considered a plank, something that people could possibly be forced to walk off of. At the moment, Batman couldn't see how the Joker could force him to do so, but he wouldn't put it past the dastardly scoundrel either. The Joker could even possibly have it rigged in some way so that it would purposefully drop him. Batman really didn't want to think about that right now, but he supposed that now was better than later.

If it came to that, then Batman certainly had to think of an alternative. His hands immediately and instinctively went to his waist, but then it occurred to him that the Joker's gang had already ensured that he didn't have his utility belt to save him in this instance. Balling his hands up into fists, Batman quickly looked around the smokestack again, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

The entire smokestack itself was made of brick and mortar, and Batman couldn't see very many places that he could grab onto if he needed to. There were a few areas here and there where the bricks and cement had crumbled away during the years of the factory's disuse, but certainly nothing that would make for a practical place to cling to for dear life. Then he saw them – a few metal rungs here and there that had probably formed ladders once upon a time for the maintenance workers. Most of them had rusted and fallen away, leaving holes in the walls where they had once been.

Batman counted three of these remaining rungs – one at about the height of his shoulders directly across from the door, another one a good ten feet above that one, and one more several feet above the door itself. If worse came to worse, these metal rungs were going to be his best option if the floor suddenly fell out from under him, so to speak.

The one above the door would have been his preferred perch, as it would give him the closest access to the door while he thought of a way out. Unfortunately, it was much too high for him to reach without the contents of his utility belt. It was a good five feet above his head and there were no other footholds nearby to boost himself up on. The rung directly across from him would be his best bet; he would have to leap the six feet from the edge of the plank, but it was certainly more feasible than jumping five feet straight up.

"Putting two and two together now, Batman?" came the Joker's voice once again, breaking Batman from his thoughts. "I'm sure you've surmised by now that the platform underneath you won't remain for long. You will have to find something else to hang onto, but even then, how long will your fingers be able to hold your weight? They will give out at some time, plummeting you down to your untimely demise. Whether that will be from the acid or the fall itself remains to be seen. In any case, if you wish to put that off for as long as possible, I suggest you decide on a course of action. Now."

The platform Batman was standing on suddenly jerked backwards towards the door. Just as Batman had suspected, it was slowly drawing into the wall and would soon leave him with nothing to stand on whatsoever. Batman directed his attention on the metal rung across from him, taking a moment to focus on it, to concentrate on exactly where he was jumping to.

Just then, the Joker made a clicking sound with his tongue, mimicking the ticking of a clock. "Your time is already running precariously thin, Caped Crusader. Soon you will be left without a leg to stand on, and do not even think about asking me for a hand in the matter." The Joker broke off into a fit of uncontrollably laughter. "Now I would love to be able to stay and watch the show," the Joker added when he had regained his composure, "but I have somewhere I must be. I will be back in plenty of time, however, to see the acid eating away at your remains. Farewell, Batman."

Swallowing audibly, Batman desperately tried to block out the Joker's antics, still focusing only on the metal rung across from him. He drew his hands into fists again, taking a few steps backwards as the platform itself drew him even closer to the very flat and smooth door behind him. He paused, took a deep breath, then made a run for it. He bolted across the platform, leaping off the end of it, and reaching his arms out towards the metal rung as he sailed through the air.

Batman's last thought as he did this was Dick. Batman's entire life depended on that metal rung, that was the only thing between life and death. The only thing that would bring him back home to Dick right now. Then Batman briefly wondered if the old and rusted piece of metal would even hold his weight anymore and what in the world he would even do if it did. But then he immediately put that thought out of his mind. It had to hold him and he had to find a way out. For Dick's sake.

He was out of any other options.


When we last left Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, he had just seen Batman off on his latest lead involving the Joker. Sometime has passed since Dick last saw his guardian, so let us see how he is once again passing the time, waiting for Bruce to return…

After dinner that evening, Dick had moved on up to his bedroom to continue to work on his term paper on Animal Farm. He sat at his desk, reading it over for about the millionth time. He hadn't intended on finishing the entire thing tonight, but it had kept his mind off of Bruce for the evening. Otherwise, Dick probably would have been making himself frantic with worry, probably fruitlessly pacing the room, so he chose to follow Alfred's advice on the matter – keep busy.

Now, however, it was getting impossibly late, and his term paper had worn out its welcome. Dick couldn't think of a single thing to add to it or to change, so he supposed he was done with it, at least for the time being. He had been dreading this moment, when he would have nothing left to occupy his mind, but reading the paper over and over again was beginning to make his head spin. It didn't quite make sense to him anymore, and his thoughts were beginning to meander to Bruce again anyway.

Dick carefully straightened the pages of his paper, then tucked them inside the bright red folder he had for his English homework. Turning around in his seat, Dick returned his folder to his bookbag, which was hanging on the back of his desk chair by the straps. He zipped his bag shut, then looked about his room, searching for something else to do.

All of his other homework was done. His bed had been made long ago, and the room itself was neat as a pin. There was absolutely nothing else he had to do right now, unless he wanted to join Alfred in dusting and cleaning the Batcave from top to bottom. Dick briefly decided against this, however; he wasn't quite desperate enough to begin cleaning just yet. He wasn't sure how long that would last, but he would look for something else to do right now. He supposed he could try sleeping, considering it was going on towards midnight, but Dick would never be able to calm down enough for that.

Aunt Harriet would have a fit if she knew Dick was staying up so late anymore, but it was Saturday night. At least he didn't have to be up for school early in the morning and no one would particularly care if he wanted to sleep in for bit.

Just then, a knock came at Dick's bedroom door.

Gasping in an excited breath of air, Dick turned towards the sound, hoping against hope that Bruce would walk in. However, when the door opened a few inches, Alfred stuck his head in.

Dick tried to hide the disappointment from his face as he asked, "Still nothing?"

"I'm afraid not, Master Dick," Alfred whispered, coming into the room and closing the door.

"It's been nearly ten hours," Dick said dejectedly, shaking his head. "He would have checked in by now if he could."

Alfred considered this for a brief moment, tilting his head back and forth before answering. "Not necessarily. He could simply be following a long string of clues and lost track of time. He does that every so often. It can be frustrating, but nothing to worry about just yet."

"But I asked him to call me if he was going to be late!" Dick muttered. He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it down on his thigh in anger. "He promised he wouldn't let me stay up all night worrying about him again."

Alfred quickly crossed the room, approaching Dick and laying comforting a hand on the young boy's shoulders. "I know," Alfred said quietly, "but I promise I'm not concerned just yet. You know how Master Bruce gets when he begins concentrating on something in earnest."

The very corner of Dick's mouth curled up into a smirk. "I know," Dick replied. "I've had to repeat entire stories to him while we've been playing chess, because he was too wrapped up in the game to pay attention." Dick snickered. "And he's always told me what a bad thing that is, because it's always important to be aware of one's surroundings. I always wondered if he did it on purpose to use it as a teaching moment, but I guess not."

"Indeed," Alfred agreed. "I imagine him to be sitting in the Batmobile somewhere, all of his concentration directed on solving some clue or puzzle, and he's completely forgotten to check the time. He'll be calling as soon as he realizes how late it's gotten."

Sighing again, Dick muttered, "I guess." He looked at his bed warily. "I have no idea how I'm going to get to sleep tonight if we don't hear from him though."

"We don't have to go to sleep just yet."

"But Aunt Harriet…!"

"Doesn't have to know," Alfred said, winking down at Dick. "As you've said so yourself many times."

"She'd be fit to be tied if she knew what's been going on around here lately."

"She'd be fit to be tied if she knew your guardian was Batman," Alfred pointed out, "end of story."

"Yeah," Dick whispered, "especially now that I'm more or less involved in it." Dick paused for a moment, pressing the fingers of left hand against his mouth in thought. "That's so crazy, isn't it? If you had told me just six months ago that I'd be aware of Batman's secret identity and helping him, however little, with cases, I would have laughed at you. Now it's hard for me to imagine not being involved in it."

"This is your new normal," Alfred added.

Dick nodded solemnly. "As frustrating and worrisome as it is though, I don't think I'd trade it for the world." He glanced up at Alfred uncertainly. "Is that crazy too?"

"Not at all, Master Dick," Alfred reassured him, squeezing the boy's shoulder once again. "I've known for much longer than you have, but Batman is such a large part of who Master Bruce is, I can't imagine not knowing."

"Me neither," Dick agreed. "We've shared so much and grown so much closer since I've found out, and I wouldn't want to go back to the way we were before. I remember being so mad all the time when he would get a call and suddenly have to leave. At least now I understand why, and I know he does it because he has an obligation to the people of this city. It was never anything personal, and I know he hid it from me for protection – mine and his – but…" Dick trailed off, shaking his head and biting his lip in uncertainty. "Is it egotistical to feel proud that he trusts me with all of this now? That he lets me help him with his cases? I mean, he doesn't have to do that. He could still tell me it's none of my business."

"I don't think it's egotistical to feel that way, no," Alfred said around a smile. "This is a big responsibility, one that Master Bruce doesn't put on just anyone. Yes, you wormed your way into it, but he wouldn't be including you now if he didn't trust you immensely. That's something to be proud of, I think."

This caused Dick to smile once more. That was one thing Alfred could always be counted on for – to cheer Dick up even when he couldn't possibly think of smiling. The more Dick thought about Alfred's words, he still couldn't quite believe that he had indeed figured Bruce's secret identity out on his own, nor could he believe that it had only been a few short months ago. So much had happened since then, it felt like an eternity.

Then, Dick's thoughts once again settled on the matter at hand. "You really think he's okay?" Dick asked, looking up at Alfred hopefully.

"We have to think positively, Master Dick," Alfred answered. "Fearing the worst will only make you feel worse, and oftentimes, you come to find out that that all could have been prevented. Believe me, I laid awake in bed too many times to count, certain that something horrible had happened, only to find Master Bruce safe and sound the next morning."

"I keep telling myself that that'll happen tomorrow," Dick said, "but…" He trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

"It will," Alfred reassured. "But how about some warm milk? It'll help calm you down and perhaps you can get some sleep before Master Bruce arrives home and regales us with the story of how he caught the Joker this time."

"Yeah," Dick said, standing up from his chair.

Alfred led the way out of the room, Dick trailing behind. Dick only wished he could be as positive as Alfred was. He supposed that Alfred had learned a long time ago that Batman always returned home safe and sound, but good things always came to an end, didn't they? Dick could easily lose Bruce just like he had lost his parents. As much as Dick didn't want to admit it, Batman's luck would eventually run out, and then what? What would Dick do without Bruce? Without the man who had become like a father to him?

Dick knew he was getting way ahead of himself, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something very horrible had happened.

What on earth could have possibly become of Batman, Batfans?
Is he still hanging on for dear life?
Has he figured out a way to escape the Joker's devilish trap?
Is Dick right to be so worried?

For the answers to these and other unthinkable questions,
Tune in next time…
Same fan site...
Same fan channel.

Keep hanging on until then!