Dick's perspective:
One thing Dick Grayson didn't like about being Robin was that he couldn't watch night sports anymore. The Batman and Robin were usually on patrol during those hours. But while Dick had to give up his fandom of hockey and basketball, there was always American football on Sunday afternoons. And although Bruce seemed to have no interest other than crimefighting anymore, Dick was a different story.
"Watching that American version of rugby, young Master?" asked Alfred as he dusted the living room coffee table. "It's not rugby," insisted Dick. "It's a unique sport with different rules." "If you say so," said Alfred, still seeming unconvinced but watching the game as he dusted nonetheless.
It was a home stand between the Gotham Vampires and their archrivals, the Metropolis Pteranadons. This particular game had been one-sided, 17-3 after a quarter. "The reason they can't win," Dick happily explained, "is #49 - Narquon Smith. No offensive line can hold him." Sure enough, Smith sacked Michael White to make giving the ball back to the Vampires all but impossible.
On the very next play, Smith immediately broke free of offensive tackle Ryan Powers and was drawing near White again. But at the last moment, Smith dropped to the grass and clutched his right arm in pain. Three seconds later, White lobbed the ball down the field for a touchdown!
Dick snapped his fingers. "Man, we could've had the ball and good field position if..." Dick saw Smith walking off the field. "He didn't screw up," realized Dick. "He was hurt!" "An athlete's body is under constant stress," Alfred tried to explain. "It's happened to Master Bruce, too." "I don't think so," said Dick. "He's missed one game in three years and gets injured on a no-contact play?" Still, they watched the remainder of the game, which the Pteranadons won 45-41. Without the heat Smith had been putting on White, the Vampires had no answer for Metropolis' offense.
"Sorry about the Vampires," consoled Alfred. "I do believe they're... what did that graphic say, again?" "5-2," Dick remembered. "And I don't care. I think something's fishy." He went downstairs into the Batcave where Bruce Wayne was working on the Batmobile.
"I hate to interrupt, but something's happened," said Dick. "Signal's out?" asked Bruce. "Not yet," said Dick. "But something very suspicious happened in a Vampires game." "This better not be about a call that didn't go their way," frowned Bruce. "It's an injury," said Dick. "That's worse," said Bruce, tapping his own forehead. "To someone who's never injured and making a no-contact play," said Dick. "I make it a policy to check into absolutely everything," Bruce assured him. "But right now, this seems unlikely."
Batman's perspective:
Because the Batmobile had been recently damaged by The Joker, Batman and Robin used the Batcycle. Good thing Batman was a compulsive planner.
Burger Duke Stadium was the destination. They were going to investigate the locker room of the Vampires and probably confirm that it just a random injury Smith had suffered. They searched Smith's locker after picking the lock. "Starting to look like you were right," admitted Robin has he searched the helmet. "Maybe not..." said Batman as he removed some tape to the side of the helmet that was thin enough to blend into the black helmet.
The Caped Crusaders looked at the tape to reveal a computer chip. "What's that?" asked Robin. "Evidence that this really wasn't an injury," said Batman grimly. "Check for prints, then?" suggested Robin. "Whoever planted this has to come back," Batman pointed out. "We hide until he does."
Sure enough, a four-foot man in a Victorian Age getup, complete with top hat, came by soon enough. "Freeze," commanded Batman as he came out of hiding. the small man immediately gave flight, with The Dynamic Duo in pursuit. The suspect eventually made it to his car. Batman and Robin chased on their Batcycle. Unfortunately, its wheels didn't have the same protection as the Batmobile's; a gunshot by the suspect had the it falling on its side as the tire flattened.
Fortunately, Batman kept a compartment in the front shield of the Batcycle for spare tires in case of such an emergency. Of course, the target was long gone by this time."Now what do we do?" asked Robin. "Ask a detective," Batman reasoned. "And I know just the one."
Batman and Robin came into Detective Harvey Bullock's apartment through the window. It was a dump! Less a money thing than a hygiene thing. The unshaven, dirty Bullock was a slob's slob!
"Sorry to interrupt the game..." started Batman. Bullock snapped his head around and smiled, "I hate both 'o these teams, anyway. Whatcha want with me? I hear ya don't got a car no more. That's whatcha get for lettin' the kid drive." "Ha, ha," said Robin sarcastically.
"We found this chip in injured player Narquon Smith's helmet," Batman brandished it. "That shit's French to me..." began Bullock. "...Although..."
"Although what?"
"Although there's been many suspicious sports injuries lately."
"And at bad times for their teams?" asked Robin. "When our teams are the favorites," nodded Bullock "Their star players keep gettin' hurt." "Thank you, Detective," said Batman. "You've really helped us out." "Anytime, freaks," Bullock said, giving them a thumbs-up sign.
Upon getting on the Batcycle again, Robin asked, "How's that little creep doing this?" "Scientists have figured out how to control animals' muscles through the brain," Batman speculated. "He might be using that chip to command peoples muscles to pull themselves." "So the only question is," realized Robin, "Can we stop him?" "Not tonight," Batman said. "No idea where he went. We check upcoming games in which a lot of bets are being made on Gotham's teams."
"For now..." Batman cut himself off as he saw two masked men sneaking into a closed store. "Let's do a quarterback sneak," suggested Robin.
The Mad Hatter's perspective:
Jervis Tetch, The Mad Hatter, finally looked back. The Batman and Robin weren't there anymore. He drove a couple blocks away and halted his car for the vertically challenged just to be sure. Five minutes passed.
Looks like they've given up. Yeah! Time to collect what the bookies owe me.
The Hatter set foot in what looked like a store under construction in Gothic Mall. He walked down the stairs where secret bookies operated. "I've come for my winnings," declared The Hatter to Bobby, the head bookie. Bobby reluctantly snapped his fingers and pointed at The Hatter and a nearby man started writing a check.
"Does bein' little make you lucky?" asked Bobby. "I don't know," answered The Hatter. "'Cause how else do you never lose?" lamented Bobby. "There, there," The Hatter mock-consoled him. "Plenty of typically dumb customers that don't have the inside track." "That's true," nodded Bobby.
If only you knew just how inside my track really is.
By now, Bobby's accountant had finished the check. The Hatter checked. Everything seemed to be in order. Time to head to his apartment.
The drive back was a little scary. The Mad Hatter had a bad feeling that he was being shadowed. He entered his room. Before the auto-locking door shut, it was pushed back open and a man noticeably larger than Batman pushed it open.
"What brings you here?" asked The Hatter. "Brock," said the visitor. "I wanna know why you always win." He lifted up the diminutive Hatter by the lapels to drive home the demand. "I won't just tell you," promised The Hatter. "I'll show you." He was lowered and he went over to a set of Gotham Vampires hats on a rack and removed one. "Put it on," he suggested. "How the Hell's that..." began Brock. "Just do it," said The Hatter. The fool was putting it on. "Induce Trance," grinned The Hatter. Brock immediately went from threatening to docile.
"Good sir," said The Hatter, "I am The Mad Hatter. The Mad Hatter. You are invited to my tea parties. Two does not make a party, but you let me know where you live and I'll tell you when our company is ready to be formed."
Bruce's perspective:
Bruce came home the next evening to find Dick playing video games yet wasn't enjoying himself. When a kid plays video games and isn't having fun, you know he's depressed. "Sorry to interrupt," said Bruce, "but you look down." "Yeah," confirmed Dick as he turned the TV and console off. "I want to find that little creep. He embarrassed us." Bruce nodded. "The Gotham Reindeer are 7.5-point favorites thanks to their Captain, Jeff Lockett." When do we leave?" Dick asked with determination.
Robin's perspective:
After the last practice session before puck drop began at First Gothamite's Stadium, the Reindeer hit the showers. Batman and Robin sneaked into the Reindeer's locker room as they did so. They quickly searched Lockett's helmet and removed the chip. "Boy, is he gonna be disappointed with this game," Robin silently giggled. "Oh, we're disappointing him worse than that," corrected Batman. "Much worse."
Wasn't hard to find the little bastard. Batman and Robin just had to look for the guy who was both very small and dressed like someone in the Victorian Era. Robin smiled. You're gonna get it now!
Finding him, The Caped Crusaders flanked and opened the front doors. "Who are you supposed to be?" asked Robin. "Jiminy Cricket?" "The Mad Hatter," the little man self-identified himself. As Robin burst out laughing, The Hatter reached into the glove compartment to pull out a Gotham Vampires hat and put it on Robin's head. "Induce trance," said The Hatter. Now he was the one laughing.
Suddenly, Robin lost consciousness.
Batman's perspective:
Robin's expression had changed from jovial to emotionless. "Is something wrong?" asked Batman. "Very wrong," The Hatter continued laughing. "Kill The Batman." Robin walked around the front of the car. "You're not..." Batman was cut off as Robin rushed him. Batman blocked the flying kick but was still launched several yards away. "Not like I'm giving anything away," said The Hatter, "But the boy's under my control and adrenaline is flowing. If you're alive meet me in Gotham Park. Ciao!" The Hatter drove away.
Robin charged again. His fist plowed through Batman's block and decked him. As Robin began to choke Batman out, he struck at the hat to knock it off. Robin gasped and backed up. "Was I doing that?" he asked. Batman was right. Knocking off the hat and embedded chip had done the trick. "Wasn't your fault," he said "He seems able to control people's minds with those chips to an even greater extent than we realized. He told us to meet him in Gotham Park. That's where we'll go."
Halfway to the park, Robin suggested, "Maybe you should take me home first." "Why?" asked Batman. "Because... because I ruined it for you earlier tonight. Almost killed you." "Don't talk like that," said Batman. " You just made a mistake and lived to tell about it. The second part is what is important. We all slip up sometimes."
"Have you?"
"As a matter of fact, I've been handed my head on a number of occasions. I learned that it's not about winning every time. Not about being untouchable. It's whether you can take these disappointing early rounds and keep chugging along. Moreover, I don't think running away from The Hatter will make you feel any better about this."
"It'd make me feel worse, wouldn't it?"
"That I wouldn't know. I've never given up."
Batman hoped Robin felt better about this, but he didn't ask to be taken home again, so he probably did. In fact, the last thing either of them said was when the car parked just outside the park and Robin asked, "Why'd you stop?" "This place isn't designed for driving," explained Batman. "Too narrow and full of trees and other obstacles. We walk."
Gotham Park was a terrifying place, especially at night. There were so many criminals there. Not as many as before Batman turned up, but they continued to say that you were either drunk or stupid if you walked there at night.
Of course, your chances of survival went up if most criminals feared you. Batman and Robin were looking for the one criminal on the street who didn't.
Eventually, The Dynamic Duo found The Mad Hatter drinking tea at a park bench with five other people. These people were dressed as The Cheshire Cat, Queen of Hearts, White Rabbit, Bayard the Bloodhound, and Alice in Wonderland herself.
"There are the Knaves," shouted the "QoH," who had unfortunately spotted Batman and Robin. "Off with their heads!" "Not yet," said The Hatter. "Welcome, final guests," greeted The Hatter, "To The Mad Hatter's tea party. Have a seat."
Batman and Robin were flabbergasted! "Is this a joke?" asked Robin. "Not at all," said The Hatter. "I am the reincarnation of the original Mad Hatter. I have brought back some of the original characters. You will be two original creations of mine that I use to improve on the original classic."
Robin was laughing out loud, much to The Hatter's ire. "What the boy means to say," Batman defended his partner, "Is, this is what taking people's lives away from them is about? A retelling of Alice in Wonderland?" "That was not a fairy tale," insisted The Mad Hatter. "I am creating a new Wonderland. One everyone will prefer over the ugly little world they now live in."
"Are all these archcriminals nuts?" whispered Robin. "Most of them," confirmed Batman. "Well, making you cooperate is easy enough," said the Hatter. "Hold them for me." "The chips have to be somewhere in their costumes," said Batman. "Be careful, the chips put them on adrenaline."
Sure enough, The Hatter's slaves were moving in very fast! Blows from the "QoH" and "The White Rabbit" had Batman and Robin on the ground. They were held prone and The Hatter began reaching into his pocket for more chips.
Straining every muscle, Batman managed to get a leg free and kicked off "Alice's" hairband. "Wha..." Asked "Alice." "This may sound crazy," whispered Batman, "But you were under mind control. They were ordered to attack me and Robin, not you. Get the head part of their costumes off." "Gotcha," said "Alice" as she pulled back the head area of "The White Rabbit's" costume, freeing and causing him to release Batman. "Alice" did the same to the remaining slaves.
"Oh, shit," realizd The Mad Hatter. "That's not how this story's supposed to go. Unfair." He drew from underneath his suit coat a mac-16. Batman dodged a spray and Bataranged the gun out of The Hatter's grip. The Hatter dived on it, only to discover that Robin had gotten a foot on it first. "Noooo," screamed The Hatter. "Now, now," grinned The Boy Wonder. "Nobody likes a sore loser."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" noticed Batman. "Oh, yeah," chuckled Robin. "As for you," Batman said as he lifted the four-foot Hatter up, "I'm afraid - but not as afraid as you - what's in store for the smallest inmate in Arkham Asylum. Let's just hope you aren't next door to Killer Croc or The Joker." The Matter gasped in horror at this possibility.
Bruce's perspective:
Bruce was about ready to go work the next morning. Dick came down the stairs to be taken to his private school. He looked much happier than he had the previous night. "Thanks for the pep talk last night," said Dick. "You restored my confidence." "What are guardians and partners for?" asked Bruce with a smile.