Chapter 2: Ducati Ride

Robin's POV

I watched Wally leave with curiosity. He slinked out of the room, looking guiltily, slyly. Sluiltly. Nah. I'd come up with a word for it later.

"Robin, maybe if we try changing the wiring there… Robin? Robin!" It took me a few seconds for me to remember I was Robin, and I jumped.

"Sorry, I was just… spacing…" I murmur, looking down. I look back up at Kaldur. "Can we try this tomorrow? I can't focus right now." Kaldur looked at me a bit disappointed, but nodded, and returned to the sketches without me. I stood and walked head down to my room.

My room, dark and uninviting, was filled with bunch of computer crap. Not that I cared. This wasn't home. Home doesn't exist for an adolcent with a missing father. I search the room, looking for civilian clothes, anything to ride the bike with, and not have to wear the mask.

While searching through the room, I see the mirror, buried deep under the bed, dusty under the cold and hard mattress and frame. I pull it out and expect to see a fifteen year old kid with bright blue eyes and spiky black hair, but all I see is a mystery. A lie. I see what I had to hide from all those people to continue protecting them. Airana especially. I miss her almost the most.

*The mask frees you in a lot of ways, and binds you in others. It makes you lie to everyone you care about.* I hate lying to all those people, but I don't have much of a choice. No one can know I'm Robin on that side of my life, and no one from this side of the mask can know I'm Tim Drake.

Finally finding some clothes, I slip out of my room, completely quiet as to not get caught slipping out. I pull my brown jacket tighter around myself, and pull off my utility belt, slipping a cord into the mainframe of the computer, sending codes to tell it to stay silent for thirty seconds. With that, I slip through the boundary that separates Mount Justice from Gotham City.

~~~ Robin ~~~

It's times like these where I consider whether or not I want to be riding Redbird on the streets of Gotham City. Sometimes, I believe I would prefer it, others not. Tonight was not one of those nights.

The bike was way more discrete than a large red car wandering around, and a bit easier to navigate. I just roamed around, feeling completely free and at ease in Gotham. I may be 15, but no cop could ever guess it by how well I was driving. Legally, I can't drive, but I love to.

The thing was, I don't like paying for gas.

I saw the engine light blinking, telling me I was running out of fuel. I sighed and shook my head a few times before making my way over to a gas station. I turned off the engine and started fueling up, and swiped the card when I was finished. I patted my pocket self-consciously, and then headed into the store to grab an energy drink.

A blonde was leaning against the glass next to the door when I entered, and eyed me with interest. "I have a girlfriend," I lied.

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Sure," she said with the uh-huh, yeah right tone in her voice. I blushed, and turned tightly on my heel to the back of the store.

I looked at the drinks in the back of the store and gave up, settling on a Coke and a package of beef jerky. Can't go wrong with beef jerky.

The man at the cash register was in his mid twenties with lots of acne bubbling up on his jawbone and nose, like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. He rung up the food quickly and I looked into his half-closed, glazed-over eyes. Guess that's what you get from working the night shift.

When I turned to head out, the blonde was no longer there. She had disappeared as quickly as our conversation. Not even five words exchanged between us.

Wouldn't have worked out, Drake. Didn't work out with Ariana, now did it? Immediately, my breath gets caught up in my throat and I mentally smack myself. I thought for once I could have been a regular high schooler, besides the whole dad fiasco.

I walked up to the dark motorcycle, and rubbed the right handlebar, beef jerky and Coke in my left hand. I cracked open the Coke and chugged it as quickly as I could, before turning on the engine.

"Nice ride," said a voice behind me. I whipped my head around to see that blonde that was in the gas station. Her blue eyes twinkled as she examined the bike. "I prefer a blue and white, one, but it's still pretty sweet. She looked up with me and brushed the long bangs out of her eyes. "Ducati, right?" I nod. She gives a smile and turns to walk away.

WAIT! My mind screams. Please, please, please wait! "You wanna ride?" I ask quietly, she continues to walk on, and I call out after her again. "Youwannaride?"

Her head tilts, and she spins on her heel. "Huh?"

I gulp. "You wanna ride?" I flashed her a smile. She flashed one back.

"No kidding?" she asked, stepping forward. I shook my head. She dashed forward and jumped onto the back of the bike. "I'm Steph, by the way."

"Err… Tim." I almost felt the Robin come out of my mouth. I clamped my mouth shut and revved the engine. "Hold on tight," I warn her.

"Hold on to what?" she yelled over the engine. I laugh, and we shot off into the darkness of the night.

*Page 4 in BUSTED! of the Robin comics (Not sure if that is a particular set of Robin comics) Released December 1993. Credit goes to Chuck Dixon, Tom Grummett, Ray Kryssing, Adrienne Roy, Tim Harkins, Jordan B. Gorfinkel, and Dennis O' Niel. The first page says BUSTED! In big yellow letters on my copy, so I'm guessing what that one particular issue was called.