The author lays dead, head on table, sweating mingling with blood around their motionless body.

Shadow:This seemed to work last time so lets try it again *pokes author*. Dude, you still writing?

Sastt:You know there are fans waiting on your virtual doorstep for yo- *loud banging* That would be them! So I don't think your door can take much more o- *crash* *cheers flood the room* . . . Uh . . . *fans stream in* . . . I think that was your door.

Author slowly raises their head and squints at screen, eyes opening for the first time in months. "Oh...I got some reviews." The author's fingers slowly move across the keys.

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11

I hope things start working in my favor. Ever since that bright blue, fuzzy egg hit me in the face, I've had the worst luck. Hopefully, my luck will change on this mission.

Connor and Garfield open their eyes. "Whoa..."

We're in the Bat-Cave. Batman definitely took some convincing, but I knew that I would need the tech if I was going to pull my plan off. Still, Superboy and Beast Boy both had to be blindfolded and led down a convoluted route before finally arriving here.

Batman does not look happy. "Do not touch anything. Don't stand over there. Robin, get the green kid away from there. Don't pick that up!"

Connor quickly puts down the freeze gun. "This is your hideout?"

Batman turns away grumbling to himself.

I smile weakly. "Well of course. A bat cave for the Batman? Makes sense, right?"

Garfield jumps off the platform and changes into a green bat. He's the first animal morpher I've seen in person. It's incredible how he's able to change his body mass and shape so naturally.

Gar flaps around our heads a few times before landing and shifting back. "Whoo! This place is awesome!"

"Don't do that again," Batman says. I'd forgotten how he used to be afraid of bats. Guess he hasn't quite conquered that fear yet.

"Why are we here?" Connor asks. "I mean, it is cool, but why?"

"Because for this to work, I need resources, suits, and a certain person."

"Who?"

"Bruce Wayne." I'm leaning over the Bat-computer, but I see Batman stiffen imperceptibly out of the corner of my eye. "He lives not to far away from here. I know him pretty well back home."

"What makes you think he'll help you in this world?" Garfield looks over my shoulder, trying to see what I'm doing.

"It's complicated," I say. I hit enter and the profile for Benjamin Wilcox comes up on the screen.

Batman is suddenly at my side. "What do you need Bruce Wayne to do?"

I smile. "Metus, in this world, is a man who goes by Benjamin Wilcox. He lives in Gotham. Ever heard of him?"

Batman's frown deepens as he says, "He's a rising billionaire. Nobody has ever seen his face. He's very against publicity. No criminal record."

"He also appeared extremely recently, no one knows how he gets his money, and according to the records providing to me by the NSA, he's not even eighteen yet."

"You hacked the NSA!" Garfield laughs. "Nice."

"What makes you sure he's the guy?" Connor asks.

I pause and look up at the information on the screen. There's barely anything there, not even a profile picture. "I...I'm not really sure actually. More of gut feeling than anything. He fits the description of a fun-loving alien. Often aliens come to Earth, make a lot of Earth money, and then leave without a trace. All as an extended vacation."

"So what the deal?" Garfield asks. "How are we going to bag him?"

"If he hates publicity, it's not like he's going to be easy to get to," Connor observes.

Batman seems to have caught on. After all, he is the reason. "Every billionaire and millionaire within four hundred miles of Gotham will be attending Bruce Wayne's welcome home party."

"And it would look too suspicious if he weren't to attend," I conclude with a smile. "So odds are, our mystery man named Metus is going to be there tonight at ten."

"One problem though," Connor says. "We are not stupid rich. There's no way we're getting into this party."

"That, my friend," I say with a smirk, "is the easy part."

My plan isn't all that bad. A lot of it is going off what I know about Wayne parties, relying on my acting ability, and trusting Connor and Gar to not mess it up.

"Can we maybe go over the plan one more time," Gar asks.

How reassuring.

We're sitting in a limo that we ordered online. Came with a chauffeur and everything. I love the Internet.

I make sure the separation glass is rolled up all the way between us and our driver before speaking.

"Connor and I will go in through the main entrance with me posing as a rich politician's son, and Connor as my bodyguard. You, Beast Boy, will sneak in as some type of animal and search for Metus while keeping an eye on our exit. Batman will be our eyes and ears from above, and contact us if anything goes wrong. Got it?"

"Yeah okay, I think I'm good," Garfield nods slowly. While Superboy and I are dressed up, he's still wearing his outfit that changes with him when he turns into an animal. It's purple and black and reminds me of a scuba suit, but whatever works.

Connor huffs. "I can't believe you got Bruce Wayne to give you an invitation."

I shrug. Honestly, all I did was ask Batman for one while the others were changing. It took him ten seconds to print one out.

"Security at the door will be tough to get through, so watch out," I say to Connor. "Let me do the talking. Stand there and look threatening. Maybe do that thing with your face..."

He gives me a death stare.

"Yeah, that's the one." I quickly look out the window. It feels so weird to be going home. The party is being held at Wayne Manor.

The limo stops and Connor and I get out. Garfield will go a little farther before getting out. Then we told the limo guy to go ahead and leave. We're planning to catch a ride with the Batman. (We didn't tell limo guy that part. Already he was giving us some seriously judgmental looks being three kids—one of whom is green—about to go to an adult party. But we're paying him $300 an hour, so it's not like he's about to say anything).

"Act like you belong," I say. "And try to look like you're guarding me."

Connor hisses back, "What from?"

"Who knows. Now quiet. It's showtime." I throw on my best smile and stroll up to the security guard at the door.

She gives us a once over, noting my age and my large friend. "Invitation?"

I pull it from my pocket and hand it to her. While she reads it, I get out my phone and browse it causally. Still no signal.

"You're Reed's son?"

I roll my eyes. "Uh, yeah."

She studies me before sighing. I think she mutters, "What is this world coming to," before handing me back my invite.

I snatch it away from her and stalk off, putting as much irritating rich brattiness as I dare into my walk trying not think about the taser at my back.

Connor sniffs beside me. "You did that almost too well."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "Keep quiet."

Inside, I have to keep Connor from totally blowing it. He's way too wide-eyed and his guard is so far down its halfway to China. Anybody could have plainly seen that he wasn't a bodyguard at all.

But it is a Bruce Wayne party.

There's fountains of wine, sparkling lights, plenty of women of all facets of life, and people so rich that they smell like the scent you get when you hold coins in you hands for too long.

"Hey, keep an eye out for Metus." Maybe reminding him about the mission will make him stop looking like an awed child at a circus. (I know what they look like).

But I know he can't help it. It's hard to resist the atmosphere, the music, the laughter, the mood. Something about a Wayne party makes you forget about the world outside the white columns and grand staircases and crystal chandeliers. Like you've stepped into a different dimension.

I know. I've felt it's affects first hand. One of the first times I attended a Bruce Wayne party myself...

I was ten years old at the time. I had been Robin for a while and was feeling pretty confident in my abilities and myself in general. My cockiness had returned and I felt more secure in my developing mentor/father figure relationship with Bruce I was building. As far as I was concerned I had it all.

Few things can make me angry like bringing up my parents. But that night, the night of my first in house party, I was so mad, I was sure I was going to blow the whole thing and Robin butt-kick that guy out of there.

Did I mention that guy was Roy Harper?


I scratch my neck. "What time is it?"

Bruce glances down at me and gives me a sideways smirk. "Nervous?"

"As if," I say. "I'm excited!"

"Well, try to contain yourself. And stop scratching before Alfred catches you."

I immediately stop and move on to picking at my sleeve. "Come on. Can't we head down now?"

"Not yet. We have to be fashionably late."

"I thought that was something people only said when they were actually running late."

Bruce doesn't deign me with a reply, simply continues to comb through his already perfect hair. "Remember what I told you?"

I sigh. "Talk about school and that vacation to the Galapagos. I know."

"If someone says something you don't like...?"

"Rule number 20. Smile and make them regret it."

"Good. Let's head down."

"Yes!" I follow Bruce from the upstairs lounge to the main foyer.

This is my first public appearance as the ward of Bruce Wayne. When we come to the cress of the steps, hundreds of faces all turn to look at us.
I grin cheekily and wave.

All around, laughter and cheers start up, everyone's clapping for me.

I've been in the limelight all my life. I'm not a shy kid. But Bruce told my to try to lay low. Everyone here might say they're my best friend, but they're all wolves in disguise.

I do as I'm told and follow close behind Bruce as he makes his rounds. I meet everyone from the mayor to a shady looking guy in a pinstripe suit.

"Well if it isn't Bruce Wayne!"

I see Bruce visibly wince but he turns anyways, plastering a smile on his face. "Queen. Long time no see."

I recognize him. Blonde hair. Sort of scruffy but more in a "I'm hungover" kind of way. He's dressed in a fancifully tailored suit. He's Oliver Queen, richest man in Star City.

I don't recognize the kid behind him, however.

He has short red hair and a scowl on his face. He's sort of dressed up, though his buttons are done wrong and his shirt's not tucked in. He's a little older than me, making him about thirteen or fourteen.

Queen claps him on the shoulder. "Since you took in a ward, I figured I might as well too. Public image and all, am I right?" He winks.

I frown and glance up at Bruce. I can see a tick developing in his right eye.

"This is Roy Harper."

Bruce smiles at the boy and holds out his hand. "Pleasure."

Roy looks wide-eyed up at Bruce's thousand watt smile and tentatively shakes his hand.

"I'm Dick Grayson," I say, a slight touch of my Romanian accent coming through. Bruce said that it would be a killer with the press. Too cute.

"Nice to meet you," he grumbles, shaking my hand. He's mostly still gawking at the richest man in the building right now. Bruce has launched into a conversation with Queen about the latest scandal among some higher ups.

As I shake Roy's hand, I feel the callouses near the bend in the top of his pointer, middle, and ring finger. Those aren't guitar callouses, otherwise they would be on all his fingers and on the tips. He has wide shoulders, hinting at strong back muscles. Before I can stop myself, I say, "You do archery?"

It's like time suddenly freezes as both Queen and Roy turn to stone, Roy's hand still clasped in my smaller one.

"W-w-what...?" Roy stutters. His hand snaps away from mine like I burned him.

Bruce nudges me. I catch his eye and he's giving me a dangerous look. My throat clenches. Oh. Oh.

I slap on a grin. "Because I do some archery myself. Since we're both sort of in the same position, being rich wards and all..." I bat my eyes lazily like I see Bruce do when he wants someone to pass him off as spoiled and stupid. "I figured we should hang out. We've got a full archery range and everything. It's new."

Roy's too pale to respond. Oliver Queen covers for him. "I'm sure that'd be great. Right, Roy?"

Roy recovers slightly. "Uh. I don't know..."

I cross my arms and flip my hand in the air. "If you don't like archery or whatever, that's fine. It's sort of a stupid sport anyways." I'm trying to flip the conversation and change the subject.

But I think I might have taken that one too far.

"What?" Roy's voice drops a few octaves. I raise an eyebrow. "What?" He repeats.

I'm blown away by what happens next.

Roy gets in my face and hisses, "Look, archery is a time honored tradition that teaches one of personal and spiritual strength. You have no idea what it's like to have the most important thing in your life taken away. Archery helped me before I could come to terms with everything that's happened to me. I never want to hear you disrespect it again!"

One phrase registers in my head. You have no idea...the most important thing...taken away...

I let out a slight, crazy-sounding giggle and reel back my fist to punch him in the face. Bruce catches my arm and holds on. Hard.

Queen smacks Roy in the back of the head. "What was that? Play nice."

Rubbing his head, Roy glares at me before turning his glare on Queen. "Whatever."

I'm shaking with a smile to rival the Joker's on my face. Bruce's hand is still wrapped around my arm.

"Hey, Wayne," Queen looks down at me. "What wrong with your kid?"

"Richard," Bruce says, using my full name to get my attention, "go back upstairs for a little bit. I think you're a little tired."

I nod wordlessly and he lets go of my arm. I stare at Roy until he looks away before heading upstairs.

I go down into the Bat-cave and work on the trapeze set until my muscles burn. Only when I'm too tired to do a cartwheel do I stop. I collapse on the ground, chest burning. Sweat gets into my eyes, causing tears. That's what I tell myself...

"Dick..." It's Bruce. The party must have ended a while ago because he's already changed and showered wrapped in a monogrammed robe.

"Does it ever stop hurting?" I whisper from the floor.

Bruce Wayne lowers himself onto the floor beside me. "No. But it can be offset. Next time, just enjoy the party."

I take a shaky breath and nod. "Sorry."

"Don't ever apologize for that." He gives me a softened Bat-glare. "What's Rule 65?"

"An apology without sincerity has no affect on anything."

"Correct. As usual."


"Robin, is that him?"

I snap back to the present. "Sorry, what?"

Connor almost points but seems to think better of it. Good, he's learning. "The guy standing by the pillar to our left. Is he that rich guy?"

I glance that direction and casually accept some "punch" from a passing waiter. I take a fake sip. (I'm not about to drink unidentified open liquids, this is a Bruce Wayne party after all). "No, it's not him."

Connor frowns.

"Good guess though," I say, trying to be encouraging. But encouraging is not really my strong suit. "But he's holding himself all wrong. Constant perimeter checks, his weapon is concealed under his right arm, and he has an earpiece." But he's still blending in better than you, I resist to add.

Connor squint. "How could you tell that? I have super eyesight and I couldn't even tell."

"Training," is my only response. "Come on."

We move deeper in the party and its like being swallowed by a creature made of fine silk and perfume. People keep touching my shoulders and laughing in my ear. The whole room smells like alcohol.

There's a reason we stopped having these parties when I was little.

"We don't even know what this guy looks like." Connor nearly winds up with wine all down his front as he tries to dance around a severely drunk couple. "What are we looking for?"

I wink at a girl blushing in my direction before turning my attention to Connor. "He'll probably be surrounded by people and bodyguards. He's never been seen in public before, right? So he'll be one of the main attractions." I'm actually taking a gamble if he's even here. What if maintaining a public image came second for him to keeping his face a secret? Then I guess I'd have to try something else...

"There's a whole lot of people up there." Connor actually does point this time, right at a group of people clustering around something. Or someone.

Feeling hopeful, I start to make in that direction. But someone grabs my arm.

I resist the reflex to twist my arm and pop their shoulder out of place, instead remembering to remain in character. "How dare you—"

But then I see who it is. It's Wally, dressed like a waiter.

"Impulse?" Connor says.

"Shush! I'm not in costume, stupid. I'm Wally." The redhead seems to have recovered. I remember how I blurted out his greatest secret to the world's topmost superheroes. Guilt burns the back of my neck.

"Hey, I'm sorry—"

"Forget it," Wally says, making a dismissive gesture. But there's still tension in his body.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, you said you needed help. Here I am. Tell me what to do, all wise one."

I silently fume. "It's not that simple. If I factor you in, it changes everything. People are already watching us because we're talking with the staff. Here, take our drinks." I pass them to Wally who straightens and holds them delicately like a real waiter. "Now tell me about the food."

"We have tonight a duck meatball soup with...cherry-smoked hickory ham..."

I sense a few gazes turn away. I breath a sigh of relief. "Okay, good job. And just for future reference, that sounded disgusting." I reach up and adjust my tie, turning on the ear piece and microphone as I do so. "Thanks for the heads up, Bats."

"Didn't want you to be concerned," Batman's voice rumbles in my ear. "And don't call me Bats."

I resist rolling my eyes. "How's it coming, Garfield?"

"Uh, well, not so hot right now. I can't even find away into this mansion. This place has tighter security than the pentagon. Even the mouse holes are locked up tight."
I start moving. Staying still too long draws suspicion. "Well you've got to find a way in. We need to find Metus, track him, and get out of here. This atmosphere is not ideal."

Garfield mumbles, "Well, at least you guys are at the party while I'm in the dark underneath the house with these bugs..."

I grind my teeth. "I don't have time for this—" I turn and almost collide with someone. Connor's too late, "Robin, watch out," falls on deaf ears.

"Sorry," I say. This is great, just great.

The guy looks up and his eyes widen. "You!"

I glance at his face and I feel my eyes widen too.

"You! You're the one who did this to me!"

Never mind the rich people all lingering around us listening. Never mind the odd looks and interested glances.

My mouth falls open. "Found you."

Benjamin Wilcox, aka Metus, glares at me. With a pair of bright blue eyes that are familiar.

Metus looks exactly like me. Except older.

I'm confused but what he's says next though.

"What did you do and who are you?"

I blink. "What did I do—?"

But we're interrupted as suddenly the lights flicker off and the silence that comes with a power outage swallows us. A few women call out in alarm.

It's just a power failure, I tell myself. And I can believe it.

Until there's the sound of fifteen windows shattering and heaving boots hitting the floor. And then a voice, that shouts over the rising screams.

"HAND OVER BENJAMIN WILCOX AND NO ONE GETS HURT!"

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*laughs in an attempt to hide pain* Author slumps down in their chair again. Their final words before slipping back into the realm of unconsciousness echo around their empty room and reverberate with their singular, gleaming laptop. Will it reach them-the ones that read?

"Review!REVIEW!"

"There's only one way to know for sure...