The next few of days seemed to blend together. I only saw Commissioner Gordon once during that time. There was allot going on, and I understood none of it. The police station was busy place; most of the time I just sat in a chair and watched them. Occasionally they would ask me questions. Some were about my parent's death, and that was something I was very reluctant to talk about. I could not tell them much anyway. Other questions were basic things, like my name, date of birth, and allot of other things I did not know, but the circus manager took care of those answers for me. It was the second day that some lady from the childcare services came up to me and said, "Hey there, sweetie. I'm going to take you meet your foster parents." She kept talking, but I ignored her. For one thing, she was way too happy for the job she had. The other thing that bugged me was that I had no idea what a "foster parent" was. So when the lady (still talking) lead me to some other lady, I just stood there. "Well, go on. Say hello."

The other lady walked to me when I refused to move. "Hi, Richard. I'm Sandy Marcher; my husband is at work. You'll meet him later tonight. We are so sorry about your parents. If you need anything at all, don't be afraid to tell me." She spoke very sweetly and laid a hand on my shoulder. I guess she was nice enough, but something told me I did not want to go with this woman. Just like with Bruce though I did anyway. Sandy tried talking to me on the way to her apartment, but the desire was not mutual, and she eventually let me be. It took a while to get there since she lived near the outskirts of the city. Once we arrived, she showed me around the apartment. It was small and rather nice. I don't remember much else about it; I wasn't there for very long after all. She showed me my room, and that is where I chose to stay for the rest of the evening; she even let me eat supper in there.

There were no real problems until her husband came home. I remember hearing something fall over as someone come in the door. I got up to investigate and peeked out of my room. "Phil, what are you doing!" Sandy had rushed in from the kitchen and saw the table by the entryway knocked over. I could smell the alcohol on him from all the way over there. The man was staggering and mumbled something at her. "I told you to lay off the liquor!" He just angrily shoved her aside and started for the kitchen, but then he looked over at me.

"You nosy eavesdropper!" I quickly ducked into my room and backed into the corner. They were arguing outside the door. Sandy was franticly trying to tell him to stop: Phil was yelling while fumbling with the door handle. He finally got the door open. "Come here you! I'm going to teach you to mind your own business!"

"Phil, if you don't stop this instant, I- I'm going to call the cops!" He already had hold of my arm though. "Phil!" (For the record, Sandy really was very nice lady, but not very smart for marrying Phil.)

Up until that night no one had ever hit me with the intention of hurting me. My dad and I did use to wrestle some, but he was always careful. Phil was not. He shoved me against the wall, and rammed his fist into my stomach. I fell on my knees. I think I would have cried if I could have, but the breath had been knocked out of me. It was hard enough to gasp for air. Sandy had run off to call the cops I suppose, because when I looked up it was just Phil. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I try not to think about what he would have done next, and I never gave him the chance to do anything else. I did exactly what my dad had told me to do if someone ever tried to hurt me. I hit him between the legs as hard as I could, and then I ran. Strait out the door and did not stop until I was out of breath. (Which was rather far. I was an acrobat, as you might recall, and had my share of exercise.)

The only disadvantage to what I did was that I had no idea where I was. It was dark out and the street lamps were either weak or not working at all. I was in a very run down and deserted area of Gotham. At first I stayed where I was, hoping someone who could help would come along. After a little while though, it became evident that this was not going to happen, and started walking in a random direction.

It was cold, I was exhausted, my stomach hurt form where Phil had hit me earlier, and soon all I wanted to do was just lie down and die. I was about to at least go through with the lying down part when I heard voices. I cautiously moved into the alleyway where I had heard them. In the light from a window above them, I could see two men standing with their backs to me. It was the one I did not see that I had to worry about. He grabbed both my arms from behind and shoved me forward to where the others were standing. "Hey, guys! Look what caught."

"Let go!" I struggled against him, but could not free myself. One of the others laughed and grabbed my chin.

"Well, he's just a cutie, ain't he?" I was thrown to the ground.

Now, I suppose at this point, most kids would be scared and crying. I was crying, yes, but not because I was afraid, but because I was mad. I honestly don't know what possessed me at that moment, but I was ready to get up and take down all three of them. I was determined to teach them a lesson.

One of them laughed when I stood up and pulled my fists up, which only made me even angrier. I was about to throw the first punch, but I never got the chance. Yep, that's right; it was Batman to the rescue.

I fell back in shock as this gigantic bat swept down and had all three men unconscious before I had a chance to process what was going on. Then he turned to me. He really did look like a bat, especially in the poor lighting. Except he was also a man. Now I was frightened. This was the first time I had ever been to Gotham, and I, like most nine-year-olds, never cared about the news. I had never heard of Batman, the Dark Knight, protector of Gotham, and a bunch of other crazy titles he's been given over the years. "What are you doing out here?"

No answer came out of my mouth. I do distinctly remember wondering if it was going to eat me, which was a rather silly notion since I had figured out that it was a man in a creepy costume by that point. But I was still too afraid to say anything.

We stared at each other for a moment before he came over and knelt beside me. He grabbed my wrist, and I panicked. I screamed and tried to pull away from him (unsuccessfully of course). He actually let me fight him for about a minute, but held on firmly to my arms. I was already tired, and the struggle did not last long. I eventually gave up and sat there sobbing. He pulled me into his lap and pressed my head against his chest. Leaning his head down, he whispered in his deep, rough voice, "You're okay." And then I passed out. (To be more accurate, he knocked me out. He never admitted to doing it, but I wasn't that bad off that night. And I've been drugged several times since then; I know what it feels like.)

I woke up very slowly. Everything was very hazy for probably the first five minutes. I don't remember much of what happened as I awoke, but when I was finally more alert, I found that I was being carried in the arms of Batman. Even though he did not look down at me, I was certain that he knew I was awake anyway, so I spoke up. "Where am I?" My tiny voice echoed through the cave, and my heart jumped when I heard bats rustling.

"Relax, they won't hurt you." He sat me down on the top of a desk. "Wait here." I did as he asked; where was I supposed to go? I watched him disappear into the shadows. We were underground, that I could tell. I could hear the rushing of water somewhere nearby.

I jumped again when lights all across the roof of the cavern came on and the bats started flying around. It was still dreary, but I could see better. Gape is more what I did though. I realize that few have ever seen the "batcave," and it really is something you would have had to see with your own eyes in order to understand. It has changed some over the years, but the essence of it has remained the same- awesome. From where I was sitting when I got my first true glimpse of it, I saw the largest computer ever (compared to what I had seen up to that point). It was off, which made the massive screen hard to see at first because it was transparent, which was also something I had never seen before. There were tables standing in the middle of the floor; each was neatly lined with various equipment which really did look awesome to someone who had no idea what they did. In the distance, I could see the Batmobile. That was amazing. I did not observe much beyond that at the time though because Batman came back carrying a metal box with a red cross on it- a first aid kit, I assumed. When he sat it down next to me and opened it though, along with the usual things you would expect to find in a first aid kit, there were several small glass bottles and syringes.

He took my arm and started cleaning the nasty scrape just above my elbow that I had not even noticed until he put the alcohol pad on it. It stung, but I sat still without flinching. "Who are you?"

He glanced at me. "Batman."

That did not suffice for me. "Nobody would name their kid 'Batman.'"

"You don't need to know my name." He started wrapping my elbow in gauze.

"So, is it like a code name?" He did not answer me. "Because it couldn't be a superhero name." Still, he said nothing. "You're too scary to be someone like Superman."

He finished putting the gauze away, and I was starting to think that this was going nowhere. "Thank you. Superman and I operate very differently."

I smirked at him. "Well, yeah. Superman's not real."

"Who told you that?"

"My dad."

"Well, unfortunately, your dad was wrong."

I got a bit mad at him. Not because of anything Batman had said really, but because I had started thinking about my parents, and it hurt too much to do that.

Batman turned one of the little glass bottles upside-down and stuck a needle through the foil. I had seen the nurse do that, and knew very well what was coming next. I already did not like shots, and I did not even know what he was giving me. I was about to jump down and run (to where, I don't know), but Batman was too quick and grabbed my arm. "No, stop. This isn't okay!" Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I looked up at Batman's eyes that were shadowed by his mask. There was a firm will hidden in them, but there was also compassion.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Richard." The fact that he knew my name without me having told him did not stand out to me; I just started sobbing. He did not let go, but he did set the syringe down for the moment.

"I want to go home!" But I did not know where that was. "I just want to die." My fountain of tears was stopped by the shock of being shoved off the desk and hitting the floor. (Okay, so before anyone gets the idea that Batman was really just that cruel, allow me to insert that although I was shaken by the fall, the most of my injuries consisted of a couple of bruises. His methods were a rather unorthodox, but he never actually harmed me. Ever.) I turned over and looked up at him, but he had already knelt down over me.

"What could possibly make someone as young as you wish for something that you do not understand?"

"My parents are dead!"

"So are mine. What were you doing out there on your own?"

"Why should I trust you? I don't even know you!"

"If you plan on dying anyway, what does it matter?"

Weird as it is, that was all I needed for him to convince me that I did not really want to die. I was just being stupid, as he would have put it. "I have nowhere to go."

"What happened with your foster parents?" He picked me up and sat me back up on the desk.

"How do you know about that?"

"I know allot of things." He wiped the side of my arm, stuck the needle in before I could protest again. "What happened?" I looked anywhere but at Batman. I really had no desire to talk about it. It frightened me. "Did they hurt you?" Sometimes silence speaks more than words; almost immediately he started checking me over, starting at my head and working down. I flinched when he touched my stomach. He started to pull my shirt up, but then stopped. "I'm just going to take a look, okay?" He took my silence as consent. "You'll be fine. Just sore for a while."

I watched him reorganize his kit and close the lid. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I forgot to thank you for saving my life." He tried to hide it, but I remember seeing the corner of his mouth twitch just a little. He was fighting a smile.

We got in the batmobile shortly after that, and while most would probably think to stay awake for this (in most cases) once in a lifetime opportunity to ride in the batmobile with the Batman, I did not. I was exhausted fell asleep very quickly actually; I think we drove through the waterfall or something, and the next thing I remember is Batman waking me up.

I sat up strait and rubbed my eyes as the roof lifted up. Batman came around and lifted me out onto the ground. We were parked across the street from the police station. "Go."

"I don't want to go back." I turned looked up at him. It's not that I had any real desire to stay with this creepy guy, but I had no desire to go back to Mr. and Mrs. Marcher. (I did not really understand the system yet, so yes, I did actually think they would be crazy enough to send me back).

"You'll be fine."

"You don't know that." (He did actually, I just did not know that he knew that.)
Batman removed a bat-shaped metal thing from his belt and handed it to me.

"Careful. It's sharp."

"What is it?"

I could see he was thinking of the best way to explain it. "You know those things that ninjas throw in the movies?"

I had never seen a ninja movie before. "Boomerangs?"

"No."

"Baterang." (Yes, yes, I was the one who came up with that stupid name. I was nine, okay?)

Batman sighed. "Look, if anyone tries to hurt you, just stab them with it." It was a bit of a violent notion and was nothing more than a way for him to alleviate my childish fears, but I thought it was neat, so I took off my shoe and stuck it under the sole.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want them to take it."

I could not see him roll his eyes, but I'm sure he did. "Go."

I did not have much of a choice so I started to cross the street. When I got to the other side I laid my hand on the handle to the door of the police station, but before I went in I looked over my shoulder to see if he was still there. He was. I smiled at him- it was the first real smile I had given since my parents had died. They guy honestly sent shivers down my spine, but I liked him, even though I could not think of a reason. He, on the other hand, just stood there, waiting for me to go in.

I turned my back and walked in. As soon as I told the lady officer who I was, the commotion started. I was taken to see a doctor. I was pelleted with tons of questions about what happened. At first, the officer asking me the questions did not believe me when I told him that it was Batman who saved me, but since I offered no other explanation, he reluctantly recorded it. I remember that the commissioner came down, and talked to me about it. He did believe me, and told me that the privilege to see Batman so close was one that few had, and those that did have it, often were the bad guys.

My relief was great when I was told that I would not be seeing Mr. and Mrs. Marcher again (Mr. Marcher just happened to be in jail, for one thing). Then they told me I was being adopted. That I understood, at least enough to be worried. To start with, I did not want new parents; I wanted my real ones. It did not help that the officer would not tell me by whom I was being adopted. When I finally did find out that it was Bruce Wane, I felt okay with it. I was not exactly happy, but I liked Alfred, so I figured I could deal with it until I found a way to escape to some place cool like Africa or something.

It was actually Alfred who picked me up. We arrived at Wane Manor, and Alfred helped me get moved into the same room I had been in before. The next two days were actually rather uneventful. I followed Alfred around helping him with things (although I probably got in the way more than anything else), and when I was not doing that, I went exploring through the Manson. I did just about anything that would keep my mind off of the events of the past week. I was in denial, and while I tried to act like I was okay, when I went to sleep at night it took everything I had to not burst in to tears. I did not want that, because once the tears started, I was afraid that they would not stop.