Author's Note: Try this.
Heart 4
"This is working, right?" Dick asks as we succeed in clearing our twelfth minor criminal boss of the evening through the GCPD processing department as midnight arrives in the city. "I just mean, it feels like we're taking down everybody at the moment. How much of a backlog is this big sweep of yours going to take?" He says as we get back into the car to conclude our plan's initial phase.
"It is not a numbers game, Robin. The quantity of criminal is not as important to the D.A as the quality we are gifting them. Individuals we have detained this evening are all mid-level players in Gotham's underworld. They operate in the various vice areas of this city. Our selection of two notorious would be figureheads from these districts ensures our approach is even and does not afford unfair advantage to one group or organisation. We shall return to the cave and monitor the crime statistics over the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully, there will be a notable drop across the city." I tell him succinctly as the car reverses out of the alleyway and back onto the road. The boy nods and slouches back in his seat.
"I'm glad we're going back early. My feet are pretty sore from all the ass-kicking I've had to do tonight." He informs me only half-joking. To secure these bit players, we were forced to face down the equivalent of a private army this evening, roughly one hundred and thirty individuals across six districts and twelve underbosses. It balances out at just over twenty thugs an underboss. Although I tried to eliminate the bulk of our resistance, the boy's intervention was unavoidable. In total, I accounted for sixty percent of the foot soldiers or seventy-eight bodies. That left Dick with the remaining fifty-two. Even over a period of four hours, the count is substantial. I nod my head.
"I have no doubt Alfred will supply an effective treatment."
"Think he'll give me a foot massage if I ask him nicely?" The boy inquires whilst bringing a foot up to knead. I am pragmatic in responding.
"Not with your feet. When was the last time you trimmed your toenails?"
"Batman's talking about toenails now? When did that become a work topic?" Dick says flushing slightly as his foot returns to the floor. I have struck a nerve.
"When I caught sight of them as you were changing."
"Catch sight of anything else you want to embarrass me with?" He says defensively. I smirk.
"I think you're beginning to develop acne on your back."
"Okay stop there. I promise I'll trim them as soon as we get back. Don't talk anymore please."
"Good boy."
Before the old man can even greet us, Dick has stripped off his tunic and demanded Alfred tell him if he has acne on his back or not. The old man says not. The boy glares at me. I motion to his feet. He stomps off to find clippers. Alfred and I exchange smiles as I draw up alongside him.
"Teasing an adolescent is not the wisest of moves, Master Bruce, particularly where body image is concerned."
"I told him to trim his toenails."
"Thank God. They were beginning to yellow. I take it the mission was a success?" The old man says as I am guided onto the table in the medical bay.
"The initial screening was, yes." I reply shedding my upper layers for his examination. "The real crux of the matter will be the second cull. If we successfully eliminate another six underbosses, then the third run will likely be the last required before stabilisation. If not…"
"Back to square one I feel is the answer you were about to give, Sir." Alfred says to finish my thought as he prods my ribs. "Funny how all of them go for your face instead of your body these days. Your ribs are remarkably pristine…excluding the half-dozen fractures you incurred a month ago."
"They preferred firearms to fisticuffs, Alfred. All modern criminals do. Fortunately the majority are all bad shots." I explain as he progresses to my arms.
"And the others?"
"I actually have to move out of the way." I tell him. The old man declares my arms to be of acceptable standard.
"No damage below the waist?" He asks gesturing to my knees and ankles as the largest areas of his concern. I shrug.
"Believe me at my word?"
"Never Sir. Kindly remove your tights so I may check."
"They are not tights, Alfred. They are tri-weave carbon-fibre survival leggings."
"They are skin-tight and grey, Sir. They are tights. Take them off."
It takes him less than five minutes to deem my lower-half to be of decent standard as well. He also remarks that one of my thighs is the same size as my waist when I was thirteen, somewhere around twenty-seven inches. It is approximately an inch bigger than the boy's waist is currently. I believe he just finds it amusing. I thank him for the statistical input as I dress off the table and don my dressing gown. I cross paths with Dick on my way to the command centre. The boy is now barefoot and draws my eye to his now neatly-clipped feet. I nod in approval. He sticks his tongue out at me. I clap him lightly on the head and move on.
I have been scrutinising CCTV footage streaming live from twelve known crime hotspots across the city for twenty-five minutes. Although there is minor street crime, the GCPD are able to quell it with just the sound of sirens. It seems as though our actions tonight may be having an impact. We will know more in the morning. With any luck Jim can begin to withdraw his troops from the frontline by midday on Wednesday. No more unnecessary bloodshed. I hear the boy draw up behind my chair.
"Alfie's going to draw me a bath so I can soak until I wrinkle. Are you planning to shower sometime soon? You could use one." He says. I do not need to look to know he is grinning. I smile.
"When did you begin to go for the jugular again?"
"When it became obvious you can dish out as good as you take. I had to raise my game if you're going to freak me out with invisible zits for the next five years."
"I'm sorry. I won't comment again unless it is a genuine outbreak."
"Appreciate it. Seriously though, you're cool if I start to really run my mouth again?"
"If Alfred is able to throw barbs at me, I see no reason why you should not join him in the fun. Enjoy your bath, Dick. I shall see you in the morning." He claps me on the back before heading for the stairs. I do not watch him leave. No doubt he will be checking his back in the bathroom mirror very carefully this evening before bed. I continue to monitor the feeds as the old man informs me of breakfast timings on his way out. I nod in understanding without taking my eyes off the screen. The Hydra is beginning to wither. It is slow, but I am certain of it.
It is eight in the morning. I am sat in the living room watching the news broadcast with renewed hope. The arrests of the underbosses grab most of the headlines, but experts are already predicting to see a noticeable fall in crime over the next week as a result. It is a good start to proceedings. As I continue to watch the broadcast, Dick wanders in with a bowl of Coco Pops and still clad in his pyjamas. He takes up residence beside me on the sofa, sitting cross-legged with the bowl balanced in the empty space his legs have created.
"Shouldn't you be in school?"
"It's Saturday. It says it right there on the news." The boy says pointing his spoon at the time and date window in the broadcast's upper right corner. It is indeed Saturday. I incline my head in mute apology.
"What are your plans this weekend?"
"Arcades and rollerblading."
"And room for your homework as well?"
"That's for Sundays." Dick says swallowing a mouthful of cereal. "Are we getting somewhere with my 'plan'?"
"I would say so. We shall know more after a few days once an analysis can be conducted." I say turning to look at him in profile. I see it immediately. I turn back to the screen and say nothing. Silence lingers on as the boy eats. When he is finished slurping what is left of his milk, I become aware he is trying not to look at me.
"How noticeable is it?" He asks a moment later.
"Very." Dick claps a hand over the left side of his neck and dares to look at me. I look back. There is panic in his eyes I fully understand. Still, I cannot help but feel oddly privileged. His first pimple. "It was not my intention to jinx you, Dick. I'm sure Alfred can offer advice on concealment of your pimple."
"It's freaking huge."
"Be thankful it's on your neck and not your face. You could always wear a scarf."
"I don't want to look like a pretentious loser, thanks." Dick answers sullenly. I overlook it this time.
"Best go find Alfred then." I say motioning for him to leave if he is going to be a pain. He shifts his weight and almost mounts a vertical base before reconsidering and resuming his seat. He unfolds his legs and sits hunched forward, placing his bowl on the floor between his feet.
"You jinxed me, just so you know. It was your fault. But I don't want you to think I can't handle it." The boy informs me with a shrug, "I just never had a zit before. It's kinda weird to have something grow on you overnight like this." He indicates the angry reddish spot on his neck reluctantly. "I know that I should be focused on the plan and getting the city back under control, but…" He indicates the pimple again as words seemingly fall short of describing his feelings on the matter.
"I'm sure Alfred can fix your cosmetic issue prior to your rendezvous. He used to hide mine all the time at galas and city functions." I say to perk his interest. Green eyes regard me in curiosity.
"Yours? You had zits too?"
"Yes. Believe it or not, I was also a teenager once. It was somewhat more of an issue given the media circus I have always lived my life inside. When I was fourteen, I had an outbreak on my face that lasted five months." His face slowly breaks into relief at this revelation. I am glad – I hate to see him miserable. He gifts me a sheepish smile.
"Not too childish for you?"
"Adolescence is never easy for anyone. When you have no control over your own appearance, I understand it can be stressful. Please go enjoy your weekend."
"I take it you'll be screen-watching in the cave for the next two days?"
"You're very astute. Will you be attending dinner tonight?"
"Want me to?"
"Always, zits or not." I respond to earn a brief smirk.
"Funny guy. Sure, I'll be there. I'd never pass up an opportunity to talk myself up." He gets up, grabs his bowl and leaves the room without looking back. He evidently now has all the self-confidence he needs to carry out his plans. The morale that boy can get from only a few words of encouragement is sometimes astonishing. I am privately thankful for it, since it means I need not engage in prolonged conversation with him. That is Alfred's area of expertise. I return to the broadcast.
It is shortly after six-thirty in the evening. The city is settling in the aftermath of the initial sweep of Gotham's dregs. Indictments for the newly incarcerated look promising and the remaining figureheads in the city's underworld should be moving to consolidate power in their own districts. I will begin the next phase of the plan in four days if news coverage remains favourable and eliminate a further four potential heirs from the playing field to ensure stability occurs. Having completed my target packs for that second phase, I leave the cave and return to the house. I change into one of my grey suits and enter the dining room. The boy is yet to arrive as Alfred seats me at the head of the table. Twenty minutes later, Dick enters the room just as the old man is presenting the starter, Thai fishcakes with three different dipping sauces.
He sits to my immediate left, flashes an apologetic smile for his lateness and immediately begins to tell me about his day before I can even open my mouth to greet him. I notice that his blemish is wholly absent as he speaks and privately commend Alfred on his skills. It was very large. Dick informs me of meeting his friends, Jonathan McAvoy and Harrison Bates, at the arcade just after ten and proceeds to catalogue all the video games they played and his high scores on each of them, all of which beat the efforts of his companions. The boy then shifts the action to Gotham Central Park and their rollerblading races around the lake which he again takes great delight in claiming four victories from four races. His competitive nature and drive to win everything he can are self-evident, as is his unfortunate tendency to showboat and not really consider what light such gloating portrays him in. I mainly nod along, satisfied he is less morose about the city and life in general now we have instigated a plan that appears to be working and his pimple has disappeared.
His stories carry us through the starter, main course and most of dessert before he runs out of things to say and asks after my day's activities. I summarise my day within a few sentences. I monitored news feeds for information on indictments and crime statistics. I spent one hour in the gymnasium training my chest and triceps. I compiled target packs for our strategy to combat the crime epidemic. Dick frowns at me once I have finished. His eyes tell me he is on the verge of articulating a complex question and is wary of how best to broach it. I wait patiently.
"Do you know what today is?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"It's like four days to my birthday. Have you…done anything for that yet?" He sounds pensive. I do not know why. I immediately nod my head.
"Of course. Why would you think I haven't?"
"Just…you know…with all the work and everything you've been doing the past few months. I thought maybe it had slipped your mind." He says pushing the remainder of his cake around the plate.
"All preparations are complete. Alfred has booked an appropriate venue, the invitations have been sent and already returned. Everybody who received one is attending. It roughly works out at fifty-two guests. I am hoping I may keep the rest of the day a surprise for the time being?"
"But I haven't even told you what I want."
"Dick you drop hints at least twice a day and often spend entire car journeys on patrol fantasising aloud about what constitutes a 'kick-ass party'. I have been paying attention. I always do when you have something to say."
The boy goes quiet. I hope I have not said or done the wrong thing by pre-empting his wishes. He looks at me sheepishly.
"I forgot it was my birthday in four days. Harrison had to remind me. I totally forgot about the whole thing. I just thought, if I could forget my own birthday, it wasn't too much of a stretch for you to forget it as well. Things have been pretty crazy around here recently."
"Well the entire matter is in hand. Alfred is picking up the cake on Monday and the decorating will be complete by Tuesday afternoon. Okay?" I say deciding to reach over and squeeze his shoulder in a gesture I hope is supportive to him. He inclines his head in gratitude.
"Okay. Thanks Bruce." The boy regards me, "Are you going out tonight?"
"I had intended to conduct a roving patrol for some added intelligence on our plan. It would be quite brief, no longer than six hours. Would you like to come?" I reply removing my hand from his shoulder and settling it on the table top. He considers carefully.
"You're not talking about patrolling the streets, are you?" He says seeing through my subterfuge with remarkable ease. I smile.
"No."
"You're talking about that Policeman's Ball you've been invited to speak at, the black-tie shindig this evening, starts at eight?"
"Interesting what you do remember when you don't want to go somewhere. There's still twenty-five minutes until it begins and I would consider it a personal favour if you would attend it with me as my…moral support."
"You don't need that anymore. We chased all the crooked cops out of the force remember? Everybody's a good guy now." Dick informs me with a triumphant smile that suggests he thinks he has sidestepped the function. I lean back and fold my arms.
"Fine, how about you come as my loving son who is greatly appreciative of my efforts for his upcoming birthday and wishes to repay my kindness in some way?" I say. There is no shock at my use of the word 'son' to describe him. Evidently he is comfortable with such an intimate label being applied. He sees it for what it is: a ploy to shame him into attending the ball with me. He mirrors my actions in leaning back and folding his arms.
"Are we keeping score now?"
"Are you refusing to soldier?" I say. Dick rolls his eyes and emits a tired sigh.
"If you leave me as soon as we get there like you did at that summer gala…"
"I did not know there were no other children in attendance. I have it on good authority there are plenty of teenagers going to the ball this evening. Barbara Gordon is going." I say to see temptation begin to creep across his face. He eyes me with distrust.
"She is?"
"Yes. And I doubt she will be the only pretty girl there as well. So?" The boy sighs again and shrugs.
"Fine I'll go. But if there are no girls, pretty or otherwise there, I'm leaving."
I smile in appreciation of his decision to accompany me to yet another civic function. "You are a good boy."
"And you should have been a politician with negotiation tactics like that." He informs me, trying not to break and smile back. He barely lasts another minute before his resistance fails and he gifts me a smile. "I'm going to wear my chequered bowtie, the one that's blue, yellow and pink all at once?"
"Are you? To a black tie function?"
"Yep. That's my one condition for being dragged along with you if your promises of beautiful girls or Barbara Gordon turn out to be bogus. Deal?"
"Deal. Go get dressed. I will meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes."
