The last time we saw Batman's future crime-fighting partner, Dick was determined to follow Batman to the Joker's Wild Card Company, desperate to make sure his guardian hadn't met with foul play. Has Dick finally convinced Alfred to let him do so?
"What?" was all Dick could think of to say. He stood staring at Alfred with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.
A small smile slowly curled around Alfred's lips. "Well, Master Dick, the way I see it, I have two options. One, I can forbid you to go, in which case, you'll go anyway and get in way over your head. Or two, I can help you, and support you, and perhaps get both you and Master Bruce out of this."
Dick was still speechless. He tried to say something for several seconds, but he couldn't seem to form any words at all. Finally, he simply settled on, "Alfred…" Then Dick rushed forward, wrapping his arms firmly around the butler's waist.
Hugging Dick back tightly, Alfred gave the boy's shoulders a squeeze. When he pulled away, Alfred gripped Dick's shoulders and said, "And I am going to help you. We have some spare prototype utility belts from way back when Batman was still putting his costume together." Alfred paused, gesturing back at a large grey cabinet on the other side of the desk. "I can get something together for you with some Bat-gadgets to help you. I'll have to get you a radio so we can keep in contact and run through how everything works. You'll be getting a crash course on how to be a crime fighter."
Dick let out a heavy breath of nervousness. He could hardly believe this was all happening and that Alfred was going to help him of all things. This was crazy. Although it was exactly what Dick wanted. It was a weird mix of complete excitement and sheer terror coursing through him.
"Now you haven't answered my question," Alfred said.
"What?" Dick asked again. This was all happening so fast, his head was spinning and he was having a difficult time even trying to keep up with it.
"You don't really plan on going like that, do you?" Alfred asked. He gestured to the clothes Dick was wearing – his grey slacks and bright red sweatshirt. His sweatshirt was one of the first articles of clothing that Dick could remember Bruce buying for him. It was one of Dick's favorites – warm, and soft, and comforting, not to mention that it was in his favorite color as well. This shirt in particular always managed to make Dick think of Bruce, of their various and enjoyable shopping trips together. Dick wrapped his arms around himself, digging his fingers into the comforting fabric.
"Not that there's anything wrong with what you're wearing, of course," Alfred pointed out, picking up on some of Dick's thoughts. "I only meant that it wouldn't do for Bruce Wayne's young ward to burst in to save Batman. It might be a bit too telling."
Dick suddenly hung his head, staring down at his normal street clothes. He could feel his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment that he hadn't even thought of this. He had almost been ready to go running out of the Batcave, not even caring who saw him dressed like this when he went to save Batman.
"Oh," was all Dick could say in reply. He blinked up at Alfred. "But…I don't have anything-"
"Don't you?" Alfred cut him off gently. Alfred raised his eyebrows, staring at Dick meaningfully. "It seems to me you brought a few things of your own when you arrived here."
Dick stared at Alfred, still not quite understanding. And then it hit him all at once. Just the thought of it made Dick's heart feel like it had jumped up into his throat, beating wildly. He hadn't ever thought about wearing it again. In fact, he had already made up his mind a long time ago that he would never dig it out of the back of his closest. On his very first night at Wayne Manor, Dick had shoved it way back in there during a particularly long and raw conversation with Bruce, and he honestly didn't care if he ever saw it again.
But now…Dick supposed that Alfred had a point. It really would make the perfect outfit if he did decide to go running after the Joker.
Now that he really started to think about it, however, the idea seemed so insane to Dick. Was that really what he was seriously considering – going after a criminal that he'd had absolutely no experience with at all? The thought alone terrified him, especially when he and Alfred were standing there, discussing the idea like it was a definite possibility.
What experience did Dick have with criminals like this? Absolutely none, except for his very short run-in with the Riddler several months ago. Since then, Dick felt like he had started getting back into shape with his very brief training with Bruce, but was Dick really ready to do something as reckless as this?
But when it came right down to it, Dick didn't feel as if he had any choice whatsoever in the matter. If Bruce really was in trouble, and the police couldn't even find him, then Dick had to do it. No ifs, ands, or buts.
Dick suddenly realized he was breathing heavily at the thought of that costume – of digging it out of the back of his closet and putting it on again. Deep down, Dick knew that he would do absolutely anything at all for Bruce, but was he really willing to do this? Relive the most horrific moment of his life? No matter how much Dick thought about it, however, he kept coming back to the very same answer – anything for Bruce.
Dick swallowed hard, feeling Alfred's eyes on him. Then Dick realized that his eyes were burning with unshed tears. He was absolutely terrified of the memories that costume would bring back to him, and he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for that.
"But I can't wear that again," Dick choked out, shaking his head decisively.
Alfred didn't say anything, and he didn't have to. Dick's thoughts kept on moving without any encouragement. Regardless of how Dick himself felt about it, there was something else that kept nagging at him about this recent turn of events.
"Do you think they'd be upset?" Dick asked. He didn't elaborate any further, but Alfred seemed to understand exactly what he meant.
"About you wearing it?" Alfred asked.
"Yes," Dick answered. "Because…it was their thing. Our thing. And I wore it the very last time I saw them and spoke to them. I wore it when...my life changed forever. Doesn't that…make it sort of sacred?"
Alfred pursed his lips together in thought. "Perhaps so," Alfred agreed. "But do I think they'd be upset at the thought of you using it in order to try and save the life of someone who's become so very important to you? No, not at all."
Dick considered this for a very long time. After what seemed like forever, he asked, "Do you think they'd like Bruce?" In a way, Dick had already known the answer to that for quite some time now; he simply wanted someone else's opinion on the matter.
"I do," Alfred replied firmly. "Of course they'd like the man that has taken you in – that has given you a home, and has become a parent to you when they couldn't. I think you and I both know that."
"Yeah, I know," Dick agreed. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he found himself smiling slightly. Dick took a deep breath before he asked, "Will you come with me?"
Neither one of them said anything as they took the elevator up from the Batcave, then made their way up the stairs to Dick's room. Dick had hoped they wouldn't meet Aunt Harriet along the way and would have to come up with some sort of lie about what they were doing. Time was already running precariously short, Dick felt, and the quicker he suited up, the faster he could get to Batman's aid.
Alfred stopped just inside the door to Dick's room, closing it behind him as Dick made his way over to his closet.
"I put it in here…it was the night I arrived here," Dick told Alfred, pulling open the door to the closet. "I showed it to Bruce and we talked about it. I told him I was going to put it in here until I decided what to do with it, because I wasn't entirely sure if I even wanted to keep it or not. And then I sort of forgot about it – you know, out of sight, out of mind. I guess it's good now that I still have it. Maybe I knew I was saving it for…something."
Dick was standing in the open doorway of his closet, staring at one of the shelves that came up to about his waist. He thought he could see it in there, the tiniest bit of red cotton and green polyester peeking out from amongst some of his heavier sweaters that he had put away for the summer.
Steeling himself, Dick reached up a shaking hand, beginning to push aside the woolen sweaters. Behind him, he was aware that Alfred had moved across the room and sat on the bed. The butler then didn't seem to move a muscle, didn't seem to make a sound. It was almost like he understood the weightiness, the sacredness of the situation and didn't wish to disturb this process of Dick's in the least.
Finally, Dick's fingers fell upon the cotton and the polyester fabric that he had worn so many times before but now hadn't worn in ages. The outfit that he had spent countless nights in once upon a time when he had been a circus performer with his parents, but now, it was something he hadn't touched in nearly two years. Hadn't worn in almost three. But the feel of the fabric was so very familiar, it was almost like a tidal wave hitting Dick with memory after memory.
He remembered the very first time pulling on those horrible tights and green jumpsuit – so very itchy, tight, and uncomfortable, but necessary for the business that he and his family had been in. A part of him had always hated wearing them, but in other ways, it was a part of one of the best things he had ever done with his parents. Those nights when months and months of training had paid off, when he and his parents had flown through the air and were met with applause and cheers. The wonderful feeling of being a part of something, of being a part of a family that was able to work on something so wonderful, something that pleased so very many people.
Dick almost didn't want to, but he forced his fingers to close around that itchy fabric. He paused for a very long time before he pulled, dislodging the outfit's place from behind a particularly thick and wooly sweater. It came out in his hands, and when it did, he held it for a very long time. Dick simply stared down at it, feeling almost overwhelmed by the sensation of memories and emotions running through him.
The bright red fabric of the bodice was perhaps the part of the costume that affected him the most deeply. Dick had always thought of red as his favorite color, but he was never sure why. Did anyone really need a reason for the things they liked other than it pleased them in some way? But was this it? Did his love of the color red stem from these outfits, from the acrobatic routines he had performed with his parents? Is that where it had come from?
When Dick really thought about it, he knew that the idea for the bright red of the shirt had come from him. His parents never failed to tell him how special he was to them, and they always said that this was one of the ways they could show it to him.
They had wanted their trapeze costumes to evoke the idea of a robin; having been born on the first day of spring, his mother had taken to calling him her 'little robin'. Is that why he had always liked the color red? Because it reminded him of his mother? Of the bird with the red breast had become the inspiration for his nickname?
It suddenly made so much sense to Dick, he wasn't sure why he had never thought about it before. It was another one of those things that now seemed so obvious when he really took the time to think about it. And now here it was, staring him right in the face. This thought made Dick smile the tiniest bit, and at long last, he felt the strength he needed to turn around and face Alfred.
For the briefest moment, Dick thought about telling Alfred all of this. His stream of thought almost even threatened to pour out of him in what he felt might be a never-ending spout of information. In the end, however, Dick fastened his teeth over his bottom lip in an effort to keep them in. He loved Alfred dearly, yes, and he had absolutely no problem sharing such personal things with him. But in this case, Dick almost felt like he owed it to his parents to keep these things to himself – like those were things only for the three of them to know. And Bruce.
"Maybe you're right," Dick said instead. Dick furrowed his brow, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his costume. "I think they might even be happy to know that something we shared together might now be used for something so…pure. They were always big advocates about being selfless. They always stressed to me how important it was to give to your fellow man and to think less about yourself. Isn't that what I'm doing for Bruce? Thinking about him and not myself?"
Alfred had been so quiet, Dick almost began to suspect that the butler hadn't even been listening to him. But then came Alfred's quiet response at long last.
"It is indeed, Master Dick."
"Should I…?" Dick began to ask, but in the end, he really had no idea what he wanted to say. Just simply holding this costume, even thinking about going after Batman, it was almost too much for Dick to comprehend. He was having a difficult time making sense of everything, and every time he tried to speak, words didn't seem to make sense to him anymore. It was just all a mess inside his head.
"Let's take it down to the Batcave first," Alfred suggested, taking the initiative and standing up from the bed. He approached Dick, laying a hand on the boy's shoulders and leading him towards the door. "It certainly wouldn't do for Aunt Harriet to see you walking about Wayne Manor in your old circus outfit. We'd certainly have a lot of explaining to do then."
Despite the weightiness of the situation, Dick snickered. He couldn't even imagine Aunt Harriet's reaction to such a thing. Not for the first time, Dick was glad that Alfred was there to take charge of things and help direct his actions a little bit. Dick felt positively useless, but he only hoped that he could get himself together in time to help Batman.
As Dick followed Alfred down to the Batcave, he could feel himself growing even more nervous with every step through Wayne Manor. By the time they descended in the elevator to the Batcave itself, Dick's legs were shaking like they were full of water. Even his hands were beginning to quake, and he wasn't even sure how he was going to dress himself in this state, let alone go on a rescue mission.
When they got to the cave and stepped out of the elevator, Alfred gestured towards the right. There was a small door that led to what served as the Batcave's bathroom. It was nothing more than the size of a closet with a toilet and sink inside, but it did the job.
"We have a changing screen," Alfred said, gesturing back to the Batcave proper, "but I figured you'd want a little bit of extra privacy while you put that on for the first time."
Smiling up at Alfred, Dick replied, "Thanks, Alfred."
A moment later, Dick had turned on the light in the small bathroom and closed the door behind him. He set his former circus costume down on the sink and stared at it for a very long time, almost like it was a strange animal he had never seen before. He almost couldn't believe that he was doing this, that he was actually going to put this on again for the first time since he had watched his parents fall to their deaths.
Now that the time had come, he was terrified of feeling that fabric against his skin again. Terrified of the imagery and memories it might bring up for him. After all, he had shoved it in the back his closest for a reason. Out of sight, out of mind. Now was he actually going to put it back on again? Never mind looking at it, but the thought of wearing it was almost too much to bear. But he was doing this for Batman. That was what truly mattered here and it was what he had to keep reminding himself of.
Taking a deep breath, Dick carefully separated his tights from the rest of his outfit. They had become entangled with the jumpsuit and bodice portions of his costume during their time stuffed in the back of the closet. He held them up by the waistband, letting the legs themselves fall towards the floor. A part of him shuddered, not from the memories they brought back, but from the thought of stepping into those itchy, uncomfortable things again. But it was for Bruce, so he would wear the most uncomfortable thing imaginable if he had to. He would even wear a straitjacket if necessary.
Dick plopped the tights back on the sink next to the rest of his outfit, then pulled off his sweatshirt. He threw it on the back of the toilet, then stepped out of his loafers. He removed his trousers as well, letting them fall on top of his sweatshirt. Ripping off his socks, he balled them up and let them drop on top of his shoes. Then he picked up those dreaded tights and sighed heavily. He supposed he had put it off long enough.
Holding them by the waistband once again, Dick lowered the tights to the floor and stepped into them. He grimaced at the scratchy feeling on his feet, but he wasted no time in pulling them up.
"Now I know why I stopped wearing these," Dick muttered to himself. He already couldn't wait until the moment when all this would be over and he'd be able to pull these horrid things off once again.
Next, Dick unzipped the back of the green jumpsuit and lowered this to the floor as well. He pulled it up, shoving his arms through the shirt portion of it. Then he reached his arms around his back; one of the good things about being an acrobat once upon a time was being able to easily dress himself when things like zippers were involved.
Dick only loosened a few of the laces around the collar of the bodice. This was a slightly looser-fitting garment that he could easily slip over his head. After he pulled it on, he pulled the laces tight again, then stood and stared at himself in the mirror over the sink for a very long time.
The mirror was tiny, and he could only see his head and shoulders reflected in it. Seeing the combination of the red and green costume on him again was almost off-putting. He hadn't seen himself in this outfit for such a very long time, it was like he was looking at someone else entirely.
A part of Dick was almost nervous now to step outside in it. What would Alfred say to it? Moreover, what would the rest of the world think about it? In the end, Dick supposed it didn't really matter. He would have gone after Batman in a chicken suit if he had to and not think twice about it, so why was this making him so nervous?
As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom and into the Batcave, Dick asked, "Does this look stupid?" He looked down at his outfit, at the bright red bodice and forest green shirt and underwear underneath. "This looks stupid," Dick concluded. He grabbed at the sides of the red shirt, pulling it out from his body as far as it would go, which wasn't much. Dick had grown a lot since he had last worn it, and there actually wasn't as much room in his costume as there used to be. "I can't wear this. I can't go after the Joker wearing…a circus outfit." Dick suddenly felt ridiculous that he thought this would even be appropriate garb at all for the task that lay ahead of him. He covered his face with his hands.
"Er…" Alfred began, but then he struggled to keep in a laugh.
"It is!" Dick accused. "And you're laughing at it!"
"No, Master Dick," Alfred said firmly. He held up his hands in a show of honesty. "That's not why I'm laughing. It's just…have you ever seen what the Joker normally wears? It's a bright purple suit. You met the Riddler personally. Was that green question mark leotard the height of fashion?"
Dick snickered loudly. "Yeah, you're right. On the other hand though, I thought his suit with the silk vest was very sharp."
"Which is a rare occurrence, I might add."
"Okay, so I don't have to worry about being dressed stylishly. But I still can't wear this," Dick muttered, staring down at his stocking-clad feet. "I don't even have shoes. I kind of didn't need those on the trapeze. And don't superheroes need capes? Batman has one. A long flowing cape. And what good is it wearing a costume if I still look just like Dick Grayson? Wasn't that the point? I need some kind of mask," he said, placing his hands on his cheeks like he was thinking about the possibilities.
Alfred had been standing with his fingers pressed against his lips in thought as he scrutinized Dick's outfit. "As I said, I think I can help with some of that," Alfred said, making his way over to the large metal cabinet at the far end of the Batcave. Dick followed along, still not sure what Alfred could possibly have in mind to try and improve his outfit.
A moment later, Alfred had opened the cabinet and was rummaging around inside it. For someone that seemed so organized and kept Wayne Manor spotless, Dick was a bit concerned at the way Alfred was treating whatever was in the cabinet. Alfred was throwing things around, causing them to bang up against the sides of the storage unit. Dick flinched away, not sure if Alfred was going to be able to help him at all.
"Alfred?" Dick asked tentatively. "Are you sure-?"
"Master Bruce had a lot of different ideas before he settled on his current persona of Batman," Alfred explained, cutting him off. He was still digging around inside the cabinet, however, his head almost completely hidden inside the unit. Dick could barely even hear him. "I think, at one point, he played around with a lot of greens and yellows-"
Alfred suddenly stopped, straightening up. "Here," Alfred said, but he didn't turn around yet. He was staring down at something in his hands. "I thought these still might be in here."
A moment later, Alfred finally, at long last, turned around to face Dick. He was holding a pair of deep green boots with a bit of fabric trailing off at the backs; they looked almost like wings. Dick blinked at them, then looked down at his own costume. Even though he had seen his own outfit more than enough times, it surprised him slightly to see that the green in his shirt matched the boots perfectly. It was almost too hard to believe.
"And I think he may have been about the same size as you back then," Alfred said. He stepped forward, bent over, and set the boots down at Dick's feet. "Try them."
Dick swallowed. The fact wasn't lost on him that he was literally going to be stepping into Batman's shoes. Not that Dick could ever possibly fill them; there was only one Batman after all. The thought was daunting to say the least, and Dick's heart began pounding wildly in his chest as he lifted one stocking-clad foot up off the floor of the Batcave.
Dick carefully placed the toes of his right foot inside the deep green boot. He pressed his foot downwards until it came into contact with the sole. He slid his toes forward, wiggling them until his foot slunk deeper into the boot. Then he put his heel down and put most of his weight on that foot.
"They fit perfectly," Dick said, looking up at Alfred in awe. Dick let out a soft breath of laughter. "I'm filling Batman's shoes. That's insane, isn't it?"
"Not insane, Master Dick," Alfred said. "Who else better?"
Dick could feel a lump settle into his throat almost immediately at Alfred's words. Dick almost wanted to thank Alfred for ever imagining such a thing, let alone saying, but he couldn't quite find the words.
A moment later, Alfred's head was buried in the cabinet, and he was once again rummaging around inside it. While this was going on, Dick tried his very best to get his other foot inside the matching green boot, but it was difficult. Dick kept trying to peek around Alfred, attempting to get a glimpse of what was in there. Dick was entirely anxious to see what else Alfred could find for him, and the thought of the possibilities made Dick's heart pound erratically.
This, in effect, caused Dick to begin shaking anew. His hands were trembling by this point and his legs felt like they were full of jelly once more. If he was this nervous and anxious now when he was simply getting dressed, what was he going to be like if he actually met up with the Joker? Once Batman actually saw what Dick had done to himself? Dick tried not to think about that, because he knew it would only make things worse. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.
When Alfred emerged from the closet for a second time, he turned to face Dick to reveal a bright yellow cape. Despite his best efforts to calm himself, Dick's heart immediately began pounding again at the sight of this. The cape appeared to be made out of satin, and it kept catching the lights of the Batcave every time Alfred moved it.
"It's beautiful," Dick said breathlessly, taking his very first steps in Bruce's old green boots. He put out his hands to entwine his fingers in the soft fabric of the cape. He loved the way the material felt underneath his skin, so smooth and soft across every inch.
Alfred held the cape by its collar, letting the rest of it hang from his hands. He shook it, attempting to dislodge any wrinkles and errant dust that might have settled on it over the years.
This made Dick smile. It looked almost magical, exactly the sort of cape that a superhero might wear. Dick loved the way it flowed and slunk over itself, almost like was made out of liquid or molten silk.
After he had finished shaking it out, Alfred stepped forward and swung the cape out behind Dick, laying it across the boy's shoulders. Alfred took a moment to fasten the small clasp at the front before setting about neatly folding the sides back over Dick's shoulders.
There was that lump again, once more settling into Dick's throat. Just having that silky, satiny fabric resting on his shoulders, to feel it brushing up against his bare arms made him feel powerful for some bizarre reason. It was almost like he could do anything. Dick was sure it was just a silly childhood memory – that tying a bath towel around his neck and pretending it was a cape could actually make him stronger – but it filled Dick with a thrilling sensation nonetheless. Was this what Bruce felt like every time he donned the Batman cape?
"It goes perfectly with the yellow laces on your shirt," Alfred said, smiling. Then he added, "I think it suits you, Master Dick." Dick didn't miss the note of pride in his voice.
"Don't I still need a mask?" Dick asked, his fingertips once again going up to trail over his face.
"I think there's something in here that should cover that," Alfred said. He put up an index finger and said, "Give me a minute."
Alfred was once more digging around in the cabinet, and Dick was even more nervous now than he had been before. He begun clenching and unclenching his fists together, hoping to release some of the pent up excitement that seemed to be bounding around inside him. He almost felt like a coiled spring about to uncoil, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could contain it.
The more of his outfit that Alfred put together, the closer Dick was to leaving the safety of the Batcave. The closer he was to being out there on his own, going after the Joker and having to rely solely on what he had learned as a child and what Bruce had taught him so far. That very thought terrified him, and he wasn't even sure he could do this. Was he really prepared to take on the Joker by himself? Dick didn't know how he could be when Batman himself might not even be able to handle that much. Dick, however, knew that he had to try.
"Hm," Dick heard Alfred hum thoughtfully. "Well," he said, turning to face Dick once more, "it isn't quite Batman's cowl, but it'll have to do."
Dangling from one of Alfred's lanky fingers was a jet black domino mask. Dick had just learned this term while studying the origins of the Carnival of Venice in school – a narrow mask that just covered the eyes and the bridge of the nose. Alfred was right; it didn't quite have the flair that Batman's cowl did, but Dick didn't think he'd really need all of that. Such an elaborate cowl worked with Batman's costume, because it was made up of simple blues and greys. With the bright, reds, yellows, and greens already present in Dick's outfit, he thought that something simple might really be best.
Taking the mask from Alfred's outstretched finger, Dick thought he could feel sparks of electricity running through his hand. He knew he was just imagining this, but in other ways, he wasn't quite so sure. It was almost like all of this was meant to be, like his costume was coming together so quickly and so easily. Was this really what he was supposed to be doing? Getting suited up to go chasing after criminals just like his guardian?
Dick stretched the mask out, pulling it over the top of his head. He took a moment, positioning it around his eyes before glancing back up at Alfred. At first, Alfred didn't say anything, and this made Dick even more nervous; Dick could only imagine what he really looked like or what people would think of him because of it.
Then again, Dick had to remind himself that this was Alfred. This was the man that Dick was coming to see as a grandfather figure. Dick knew that Alfred would never think those things about him. After all, this was the man who was Batman's butler. He saw Bruce dressed in his Batsuit multiple times a day sometimes and had obviously grown accustomed to it. Alfred was used to this sort of thing; he would certainly never think that Dick looked stupid or silly.
Even so, Dick let out a nervous laugh. "Please say something," he pleaded to Alfred. "Tell me that I don't look as ridiculous as I think I do."
"Mm, see for yourself," Alfred said. He stepped behind Dick, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders and guiding him past the cabinet from which he had pulled all these articles of clothing.
On the very far side of the Batcave from the Batpole was a small alcove where a full-length mirror was attached to one wall with a curtain hanging from the ceiling to obscure it from view. This served as a small dressing area for the Batcave.
Dick was too frightened to actually look in the mirror at first. He hung his head and stared down at his booted feet instead.
Alfred was still behind him, his hands lying softly on top of Dick's shoulders. "You won't know unless you look," Alfred whispered in his ear.
Clenching his fists together again in an attempt to steel himself, Dick finally raised his head. He still didn't look in the mirror, however. When he did open his eyes, he looked up at the ceiling, then past the curtain to the atomic pile, and then to the empty parking space where the Batmobile should have been. Anywhere but at the mirror.
"It's nowhere near as scary as what you might be imagining," Alfred said reassuringly, his voice still terribly calm and quiet. Dick thought they might have heard a pin drop in the cave, its sound echoing and reverberating incessantly off the high walls and vaulted ceiling.
Dick took a heavy breath and held it in for a long time before he opened his eyes. Alfred had been right. Dick had been imagining all sorts of ridiculous things. He thought he might look like some stupid little child dressed up on Halloween. Dick had almost, in some deep, dark recess of his mind, been expecting to drop dead in embarrassment at the sight, but he realized that it wasn't anything like that.
Dick was almost amazed at what he saw. He didn't think he looked quite as amazing as Bruce did as Batman, but Dick still felt slightly empowered at what he saw. Was that a little bit egotistical on Dick's part? Perhaps, but Dick didn't think it was wrong to like what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Indeed, Bruce often told him that learning to love himself and learning to accept what he looked like was one of the most important things. So this wasn't being too forward, was it?
There was just one little thing that didn't seem right to him. Dick, however, couldn't quite put his finger on what that something was.
"I think there's something missing though," Dick mused. He turned and glanced up at Alfred over his shoulder. "Don't you?" He looked back in the mirror, staring at his reflection thoughtfully. "But I don't know what it could be."
Alfred frowned at the mirror, but then his expression brightened, almost as if the proverbial lightbulb had gone on over his head. "I think I do," he said, turning back to the cabinet. "Give me a moment."
Dick smiled to himself, glancing back at his reflection. Sometimes it seemed like Alfred had an answer to everything.
"Oh," suddenly came Alfred's surprised voice from inside the cabinet. When he straightened up and turned back to Dick once more, he was holding out a pair of deep green leather gloves in exactly the same hue as his shirt and boots. "I'd forgotten about these," Alfred told him, "but I think they might be suited to your ensemble."
More and more, Dick was getting the exhilarating feeling that this was meant to be. Why else would Alfred happen to have so many different articles of clothing that seemed to go with what Dick already had? Things like this didn't just happen by accident.
Dick took the gloves and wasted no time in pulling them on. When he was finished, he turned back to the mirror one last time. The gloves had done it. They had been exactly what his outfit had been missing. Glancing at his reflection up and down, going over ever last inch of his new getup, Dick didn't think it was in need of anything else or required anymore work.
"We'll get to your utility belt and gadgets in a moment, but what you need now is a superhero name," Alfred pointed out.
Dick let out a soft breath of laughter. On the contrary, this was by far the easiest part for Dick. It was something that had been in the very back of his mind ever since Alfred suggested his old circus outfit for the task that lay ahead of him.
Staring at the bright red bodice of his costume in the mirror, Dick nodded. "Robin."
Our little Robin has been born, Batfans!
Will he be prepared for his first flight to save Batman?
Is Batman still hanging in there?
For the answers to these and other dangling questions,
Tune in next time…
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Same fan channel.
Keep your Batwings crossed for our Dynamic Duo!
