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Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Please let me know if there are any issues with grammar or anything I could improve on. Please read, review, follow and favorite!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Batman. Or the batfam.


An Interesting School Day

Chapter 2: We, Uh, Take Self Defense Classes

Nash Deas

His heart stopped. The intruders, the men with guns, had made it to this hallway already. And Nash had left the door to the classroom wide open. There were gunshots, and he dove behind the doorway, and in his panic he failed to close the door. One man charged into the classroom and held those inside at gunpoint.

Nash couldn't even think. His friends were going to die. They were going to die again and no one would come to help, because this time, there were no vigilantes, no heroes, to help. He closed his eyes, waiting for his death. He heard a gunshot and flinched, but he wasn't killed. Then who was the gun fired at?

He forced his eyes open and saw that no one in the classroom was shot, no blood was on the floor. The shot came from the hallway. Oh god. The rich kids. They had to be dead. Then another, unexpected sound came from the hallway. Voices. The voices of the Wayne kids. They were alive! And more than that, they were…

Bickering?

That couldn't be right, because who in their right mind would be acting like that at a time like this? Their lives were on the line! So that couldn't be the case, yet it was. But what were they arguing about?

"No guns!"

"But why?"

"I'm not letting you have a gun! You know my policy."

"Your policy isn't going to help anyone if we can't handle this!"

"Oh for the love of… Okay. Yeah. I see your point. Just, I dunno, try not to kill. Like, maybe severely wound if at all possible?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Now Nash was really confused. They didn't have any guns, so why were they arguing about them? What the hell kind of policy were they talking about? And just how were these two pompous jerks so damn calm?

He looked past the armed man and saw Tim and Jason back to back, grinning like they did this type of thing every day, and then some. That settled it, these guys were crazy. Batshit crazy.

Jason and Tim both charged forward at the same instant, moving so quickly it was almost hard for Nash to follow their movements. Jason swept the feet out from under one of them, and took both of the man's pistols. He quickly shot him in the knee and the shoulder, spraying the wall with blood but not killing him. He dropped to the floor and swept his leg under the feet of two men near him, and incapacitated them as well.

Tim went for a different approach, disarming his opponent and then knocking him out after a swift blow to the neck, and with a few kicks and punches he did the same to the men around him. Through all of this Nash could barely believe his eyes. No, he just couldn't.

Just who were these guys?

In under a minute, both of them had taken down the nine armed men in the hallway. Nash looked at the one still in the classroom with fear, and saw him aim his gun. Nash felt the cold metal of a gun barrel on his forehead. He closed his eyes and waited for his end. This was just like the last time, except this time he was not in a dark alley, but he was still as trapped as he had been then. Trapped in his fear.

A deep voice growled, "Drop the gun." A trigger clicked, gun at the ready. That voice. That voice was the same too. But that couldn't be… because the person who had saved him that night was… Red Hood.

His eyes flew open to see Jason Todd standing behind the man, his own gun held to the back of his neck. His eyes were steely, totally different than they had been mere hours earlier. The gun remained at Nash's forehead.

"Drop it, or I blow your head off, piss off my brother, and traumatize a room of kids."

The man with the gun was trembling, the tip of the gun shaking in front of Nash's face.

"Ju-just who the hell do you think you are," he forced out. "What the hell? You're a kid! I should be the one threatening you."

"Oh, I'm anything but. Now drop the gun."

The criminal was shaking so hard that at this point it was probably hard for him to even hold the gun, and it clattered to the floor. Jason took his gun away from the man's neck, and the intruder visibly relaxed. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out a knife. He lunged for Nash, who was still too frozen from shock, trying to process the situation to react.

"Oh-ho no you don't."

The criminal crumpled to the ground. His knife had been inches from Nash's eye when he collapsed. He looked up to see Jason standing over the man, looking down in disdain.

"What. An. Idiot," he said, and plucked the knife from the man's limp hands. "Why would he do that if I was standing behind him with a gun? Stupidity never ceases to amaze me." Nash looked at the motionless body in horror.

"Is he…?" he croaked out, unable to finish the question.

"Dead?" Jason asked, looking like he had forgotten Nash was there. "Nah. I just knocked him out with the butt of the gun. Why don't you tie him up so he doesn't cause any more trouble?" He glanced back into the hallway. "Hey, Timmy, you done?" he called.

"Yeah," Tim replied. "And don't call me that," he added.

"Okay," Jason turned back towards Nash and the other people in the classroom. "We're gonna drag the rest of the guys in here… uh, no… wait," he glanced back into the hallway. "We're actually going to drag them into the janitor's closet, since that's locked from the outside. There should be duct tape or something in there that we can use too." The entire room gaped at him, still in disbelief. No one moved.

"How the hell are you so calm? How did you do all that?" Nash gathered up the courage to ask. He wanted answers. Jason had sounded so much like the vigilante that had saved his life, and he just wanted to know. "Are you vigilantes?"

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but Tim popped his head through the doorway and answered. "We're a billionaire's kids, do you think we've never been kidnapped or in a pinch before? And why would you think we're vigilantes? Sure we can fight, but we've been taking self defense and karate classes for a while because we get targeted so much," he laughed dismissively. "Vigilantes? Us? Maybe Jason beats up kids in back alleys, but that hardly counts!"

Jason looked like he wanted to object, but he only muttered something indiscernible (and absolutely explicit) under his breath. Nash felt like an idiot. Of course two rich kids would know how to defend themselves. This was Gotham, after all, and they would be targeted mercilessly.

The rest of the people who had witnessed the fight thought this as well, and soon got up to help restrain the ten men.

They didn't even stop to think how two rich kids, albeit with defensive training, took out ten men without getting a scratch.


Tracy Lierman

Tracy had to admit, even though she was scared out of her mind she still couldn't keep from watching Dick Grayson. He was so kind, and miraculously enough, he was calm in a situation like this. It was even more obvious to her why she had a crush on him. Well, that and the fact that he was an ungodly level of hot, and drowning-in-money filthy rich, but that was none of her concern.

Dick was calming down everyone in the room, and trying to revive the fainted teacher. It warmed Tracy's heart to see such a kind person at a time like this. And, if she were to be close to him now, maybe she had a chance with him!

Tracy get up from her desk on weak but determined legs, and with a misplaced (and poorly timed) conviction to become the significant other of one Dick Grayson, began to help others as well. She calmed down the small freshman girl that sat in front of her, only in the class due to advanced placement (honestly who was that smart?), and made her way over to the passed out teacher. Dick cast a fleeting look over his shoulder.

"Ah, good, Tracy. Could you help me with Mrs. Deeds?" he asked.

"Uh, sure," Tracy replied. "What's wrong with her. Other than being passed out," she added.

"Well," he huffed, "she's old, and she hit her head on a desk on her way to the floor." He pointed out a gash on her scalp. "I'm worried she has a concussion. And," he turned Mrs. Deeds slightly so Tracy would see a spot of blood on the teacher's sweater, "I think a stitch may have ripped." Tracy looked at him questioningly. Why would their teacher have stitches?

"Remember when Mrs. Deeds was gone last week?"

"Yes… wasn't she away for a surgery… oh…"

"Yeah," Dick turned to fully face Tracy. His crystalline eyes bored into her. "I'm worried that the police won't get here fast enough, and she'll lose too much blood. We're going to have to do something about the stitches. Didn't you intern at a hospital for a little while?"

"Yes, but only for the NICU, I don't actually know how to stitch…" What? He was actually going to try to have it stitched before the police got here?

"That's alright, just get the first aid kit from her desk." Tracy got up and brought back the first aid kit like he asked, and opened it. She sifted through the bandaids and medical tape, and- miraculously enough- found a stitching kit. He reached for it and she grabbed his hand.

"Do you know how to stitch?" she asked. Dick came from a rich family, there was no way he knew how to do something like that.

"Yeah," he replied.

"How?" Now she was just more confused. Sure, a rich kid trying to be a hero and mimicking something he saw in a movie was plausible, but did he actually know how to stitch…?

"My brother Jason gets into a lot of fights," he explained. Oh yeah, Tracy thought, the punk. Forgot about him. That made sense, at least. There were rumors to no end of the fights the notorious Jason Todd got into, and even though none were confirmed, no one really questioned them.

"Oh, okay," Tracy amended. "Um… is there anything that you want me to do?"

"Yeah, if you could lift her shirt and take out the ripped stitches with this- here," he handed her a pair of tweezers that were in the first aid kit. Tracy nodded and shakily took the edge of the teacher's shirt and lifted it to see a bleeding three inch slit under the fabric. The tips of the stitches were visible and she reluctantly started to pull them out. Halfway through the task she began to feel light-headed, and sat back. Dick glanced back at her from ministering to the cut on Mrs. Deeds's head, and asked, "Are you alright?" His eyes were soft.

Tracy nodded again and finished taking the stitches out, and then Dick made short work of the gash, expertly stitching it up. Tracy admired him even more than she had before, and she had practically worshipped him before.

Just then, when Tracy was beginning to feel a bit of accomplishment, a voice crackled across the intercom, demanding that they give up the Wayne boys, and even issuing a blood chilling threat. Tracy's blood ran cold. She didn't want to die, but she also didn't want to get Dick killed. But before anyone could even debate it, there was a bang at the door, and a chunk of wood flew across the wood from the door. Tracy ducked to avoid the splinters.

Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. What was going on? Was it the intruders? It had to be. But what made the wood fly…?

"They shot the lock on the door," Dick stated, his voice urgent. "Get to the back of the room. Everyone.'' He dragged Mrs. Deeds to the back where Tracy and the students were, and then returned to the door, standing out of sight from the doorway. Dick held a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Suddenly the door banged open, and a man entered the room, gun held high.

Dick whistled playfully to get his attention, and the man jerked around in surprise. Dick quickly lunged forward, grabbed the gun, vaulted over the man's head, and held it to his throat so tight that after a few seconds the man slumped forward, passed out. Two more barged into the room, and Dick threw the passed out thug at them. One toppled over under the weight of the man that was thrown, and the other was hit and fell, caught in the tangle of limbs.

One man stumbled up from the pile, and lunged at Dick with knife in hand, gun forgotten on the floor. Dick dodged the blade and kicked the man's knee in, and pushed him to the floor. The final man stumbled to his feet and fired his gun at Dick, who seemed to dodge effortlessly, and then after a jaw-dropping display of acrobatic ability, landed a roundhouse kick square in the attacker's face, who dropped to the ground. Dick cautiously leaned out to the hallway, and ducked back inside.

"Okay, so it was only the three of you…" he trailed off, turning to the only conscious thug left. He went over to the man, writhing in pain from his broken kneecap, and firmly placed his foot on the damaged joint. The man squealed in pain, but then reduced it to just a whimper at a glare from Dick. "Why'd you come to this room? Why so few of you?" he questioned the man.

"G-go to hell."

Dick pressed his foot down harder.

"O-okay! We got ahold of some schedules for you guys, and so me and a few buddies went to go nab one of you, to- yow! impress the boss. Now will you please let me go?"

"Hmm… no." Dick drew his arm back and delivered a quick punch to the man's face, knocking him out. Tracy was shocked. She drew up the courage to speak.

"How…"

"Oh!" Dick turned to the students huddled in the back of the room and put a hand to the back of his head, looking a little embarrassed, and flashed a blinding smile. "Well, it's kinda a mixture of self defense training, 'cause you know; a billionaire's kid, this kind of stuff happens a lot more than you think. And the gymnastics stuff came from being raised in the circus before I was adopted by Bruce… so… yeah," he laughed nervously.

Tracy was still a little shocked at his actions, but she supposed that it made sense. She nodded and looked at the pile of criminals in the doorway. "So," she began, "what so we do with them?"

"Well we can't just leave them laying around so… hm… hang on," Dick pulled out his phone and put it to his head. Was he… calling someone? At a time like this?

"Heeeeey Jay-bird!" Dick greeted. Tracy couldn't make out who was talking or what they were saying, but whoever it was, they sounded angry. "Ah, always so angry! So anyway, where'd you stash the guys on your end?" There was more angry speech from the phone, and then Dick continued, "Well I only assumed, but I guess I was correct, given how angry you are." He paused for a minute, listening. "Well, I'm surprised! I guess because of Timmy you missed your shot. Eh? SHOT?" Okay, considering Dick's demeanor, and the fact that they had been talking about guns, that had to be a pun. And even Tracy had to admit that it was a terrible pun. And though the voice over the phone had been unintelligible, but what she heard next from the phone was very loud and very clear.

"STOP WITH YOUR #&$% #*&$% PUNS! EVERY DAY! EVERY DAMN DAY! THE JANITOR'S CLOSET, SECOND FLOOR, HALLWAY THREE! HAPPY?!" The person on the other end hung up abruptly.

"Okay, uh, so maybe that was poorly timed," Dick turned to the others. "So could a few of you guys help me bring these dudes over to hallway 3?"


Whew! Two chapters in two days, I think that's a new record for me!

So, I tried to make the mood a little lighter and try my hand at some humor, since I usually don't write that, so how'd I do? And I'm not very used to writing fight sequences, so I would love to hear any suggestions from you guys! I also would like to know what you guys think about writing from an "outsider's" PoV, because I like to do that just to freshen things up a bit with their confusion. Yea? Nay? A bit much? Let me know! Please give me some feedback, and stay tuned for the next chapter! I hope you guys are enjoying this fic as much as I am!

All the love!

~TheFullmetalSociopath