Late
Author's Note: I have written this because I wanted to and to possibly start another story arc. Whether I do so or not remains to be seen. Enjoy.
Fognini business matters are concluded, indefinitely. The man is behind bars in Blackgate without the possibility of parole occurring for a minimum of twenty-five years. All other major players in his operations, including Derrick Combs, are also under firm lock and key. The GCPD are now focusing on other matters in the city as am I. Dick's presence in the Fognini case proved to be almost a tragic error and I have noticed that the boy is also stressed from our current workload. He, after all, has a school and rich social life to contend with alongside his duties as Robin and such large demands are unfair. It is for these reasons I have been conducting recent activities alone. Although he was quick to contest my decision, I know he will secretly be relieved for the break and will benefit from being able to enjoy himself with friends. Since I do not require prolonged periods away from this life, I press on with my investigations.
It is two a.m. I am presently engaged in combat with nineteen assailants deep in The Narrows' illegal gambling den network. They dare not attack as one body lest I slip out from their grasp in the confusion and so are barring all conceivable exits from the establishment whilst a slack handful try their luck at my table. I identify old injuries to arms, shoulders and knees by a study of their movements when coming to strike me. Two of them have had reconstructive surgery on their shoulders in the last eight months whilst another three have a weak knee or elbow to focus on. Taking these factors into account, I attack their vulnerable points in succession, felling them all with little trouble. This reels in the others from the exits, hoping to catch me whilst distracted. It is a decent strategy, one that can be employed to high effect, but is easily countered. Since I can split my concentration in a minimum of two directions, I peripherally spot the incoming haymaker, duck and sweep the supporting leg and then finish with a quick knee.
After stringing together two separate sequences of eight uninterrupted moves, I have incapacitated twelve of them. This leaves me with three opponents to surmount. They are already sweating profusely and their breathing is noticeably laboured. I am yet to break sweat. I do not even touch them, allowing three simultaneously thrown batarangs to end their night from a safe distance. As I scour the room for forensic evidence to illegal gambling profits and the individuals presently inhabiting its floor, I cannot help but think of the boy. Despite the result being inevitably the same, I find myself missing the teenager on recent patrols. Everything seems so much darker without his cheerful disposition to light it. Regardless of personal preference, I must locate this evidence before these degenerates can hide it.
Curiously, I identify the relevant ledgers almost immediately. There is barely any effort to conceal them and I am instantly suspicious of why. After further examination of the ledgers and the information within, I have no basis for my doubts, but I am still suspicious. In any case, I am now in possession of the information Gordon and his men need to properly stem the flow of illicit gambling in this district. I radio GCPD to my location and proceed to adequately restrain those suspects lying prone on the floor to prevent escape. Three patrol cars and a prisoner escort vehicle arrive at the establishment in eight minutes. It is only one minute and thirty-four seconds off their best response time for this area. Jim and I talk briefly. I hand over the ledgers to him personally, express interest in three other possible sites for gambling dens, the locations of which I pass onto him, and then make my exit.
I arrive back at the cave shortly before three a.m. I turn the car around for dusk tomorrow evening, replace my suit and ancillaries in the armoury, set up surveillance monitoring for the gambling sites in The Narrows and proceed upstairs to the house.
As expected at this hour, it is dark in the house. No doubt Alfred and Dick have long since retired to bed as I climb the main staircase. If I recall correctly, the boy had some kind of date with a girl in his chemistry class, a Sarah Brinkley I believe. I imagine the old man will have ferried Dick to the movie theatre or the ice-rink, two of the boy's favourite spots for both entertaining and showboating to young ladies. I trust Alfred will furnish me with a full account of the evening tomorrow morning at breakfast. Dick does not wish to discuss such matters with me, a typical attitude of teenagers with their fathers I am told. I do hope he enjoyed himself. Perhaps I shall check in on him on my way to the bedroom. I pause outside his door and consider the matter carefully. I choose to open the door.
His bed is empty. I scan the room and find no sign of him. I dismiss all usual parental fears immediately. Dick has NOT been kidnapped. Dick has NOT run away. Dick would NOT still be out at this time; Alfred would not allow it under any circumstances. I consider the alternatives, eliminating those that are not credible. My conclusion leads me to believe that the boy is awake and restless somewhere in the house. Since he is not in the cave, the library, his room, the lounge, the kitchen or the gymnasium, I have a strong idea of his whereabouts. I go to my room, open the door and find him leafing through my mother's copy of Alice through the Looking Glass. He is in his pyjamas, some green pinstripe design I consider hideous, and sprawled on his stomach. Although he is clearly reading the book, Dick looks wholly disinterested in the text. He notices my arrival and looks up instantly. The boy smiles showcasing perfectly straight, white teeth. It is a small wonder after the number of hits he has taken to his jaw that his teeth are so pristine.
"Hi. How long have you been back?" He inquires whilst hauling himself to a seated position on the edge of the bed.
"Twenty minutes. How long have you been in here?"
"Something like four hours. I couldn't sleep." I sit down beside him.
"I do hope it was nothing to do with your date this evening. That went well I trust?" He grins sheepishly at the very mention of the word 'date' and shrugs his shoulders.
"It went okay. It's nothing to do with that." I am not totally ignorant of people's feelings towards me. I am lucidly aware of Dick's attachment to me as a parent, rather than a superhero. This sort of situation is nothing new.
"I am more than capable of taking care of myself on patrol, Dick. You don't ever have to worry about me when I choose to conduct missions alone."
"I know that. If I can look after myself on the streets alone, then the guy who taught me everything I know is more than able to do it too." He turns to look into my eyes, "But it doesn't stop me worrying about you. Truth is, when you go away for a long time, I get nervous and then I get scared. And I can't help it." In spite of the boy maintaining a smile throughout this confession, I can hear the sincerity in his voice and his own incredulity at his behaviour to my absences. I understand; Dick is only thirteen after all. Given time, he will eventually grow out of these childish fears.
"Your behaviour is understandable, Dick. We live in a dangerous world and the chances of something going wrong in my chosen 'profession' are very high. However, the probability of conducting a patrol ending in fatal injuries is remote to say the least. Therefore, staying up all night waiting for me to return is unhealthy and largely detrimental to your development. Perhaps it might be wise to invest in some form of sleeping pill to assist you."
"Or the cheaper alternative is to just fill me in on your suspicions." Dick responds, sliding himself over to the far side of the bed and lying down. "I can just tell something on patrol didn't agree with you. You've got that frown on your face, the one that can only mean things were TOO easy tonight. So let's talk about it." The boy gestures for me to lie down alongside him. Since I am still unsettled by the facile nature of tonight's successes, I oblige him and lie down.
"I consider this bad parenting." I inform him whilst cupping my hands together and resting them on my stomach. Dick copies the action. The boy shrugs.
"Whatever you wanna call it, I'm enjoying it just the same. So what's eating you, big guy?"
"The Narrows illegal gambling operation; locating proof of profits and transactions taking place was far too easy. Ledgers were out in plain sight, implicating several notorious career criminals and gangs. They named names, dates and amounts all with perfect clarity. Surely you can see my problem accepting such an open solution?" I look over to see Dick considering what I have just told him. While he thinks in such a reclined position, I notice the boy knocks his feet together and taps his thumbs against his stomach. Even for a child, he is wonderfully animated. Finally, he shrugs and offers a response.
"Not everyone's like Fognini. Most criminals in this city don't factor you in when hatching their stupid schemes." He grins at me, "Not everyone can play chess. Some people only manage to master snakes and ladders. Maybe you should appreciate that. I mean, for every Luciano Fognini, there's a couple of dozen common thugs, guys with brains about as sharp as a plastic knife. Personally, I think you've had too many geniuses after you, it's made you more than a little paranoid." I understand what the boy is implying immediately; just because I am allegedly elite, it does not mean that everybody else is elite too. Dick is trying to make me realize that sometimes situations are simple because those behind them cannot engineer anything more complicated. It is a salient point, one that fits the particular profile of Gotham's criminal underworld. I nod in agreement.
"Perhaps you are right."
"You hate these pyjamas, don't you?"
"They are just awful. Why do you wear them?"
"Alfie bought them for me. I don't want to hurt his feelings. Isn't that why you've still got those butt-ugly orange and blue PJs from a few years back? You look like a circus clown when you wear them." I smile at him.
"I take it you're not a fan of clowns, Dick?"
"Not when you're dressed like one. I'd drop a load in my pants if you came to my birthday party as a clown what with being unbelievably scary and such." The boy's way of putting across his point leaves little to the imagination if any at all. I sigh.
"Well, as exciting an experience as that may be, I'm not going to be changing professions in the near future, Dick."
"When can I go back on patrol with you? It feels like it's been forever already!" Dick asks puffing out his cheeks in frustration. I am quick to correct him.
"It's been four days, Dick. Is normality really that unbearable?"
"No, it's fine. I just miss hanging out with you. You know we spend the most time together in a day on patrol; I've barely seen you at all recently." This is another exaggeration, one I am again quick to resolve.
"I come to dinner every evening with you and Alfred. And you can call me at any time of the day when I am at work." He rolls his eyes at my last remark and seems to believe I have misread him.
"I'm not THAT needy! I just don't like being apart when you're out doing cool stuff in the city and I'm sat in my room doing homework." The boy believes he is missing out when it could not be further from the truth; the true nature of this work is monotonous repetition of the same events every night. I find leads, I trace illicit and criminal activities, I encounter resistance and I negate that resistance. I then work with Jim Gordon and the GCPD to formally close down illegal businesses and the sources of these unwanted activities and crimes. I cycle through these processes roughly three times a week and more than one hundred and fifty times a year without other distractions like The Joker or Penguin. While there are certain thrills with this work, it is still just a job like any other.
"Dick, you need time away from being Robin." I say to irritate him further.
"Why? You don't stop being Batman even when you eat; why should I stop being Robin?"
"Because you're a child and it is not healthy for you to be involved in that world without regular breaks. It will hurt you. I do not wish to hurt you any more than is necessary. You understand, don't you? " It is important he understands this. I need him to understand his limitations because of his age. It is not intended to be patronising, merely factual. The boy is extremely capable, but he is still a child. He relents with a short sigh.
"Yeah, I understand, big guy. So how long until my 'break' is over?"
"Another week." He offers me one of his best smiles before trying his luck.
"How about three more days?"
"You've got another week, Dick. Now please go to bed. It's very late."
"Fine. See you in the morning?" He says getting off the bed. I nod.
"In the morning, Dick."