Two months later:
Dick's offensive technique was back to the place it had been when he had knocked Batman down. Bruce was proud of him, and he made sure to show it this time. The boy flourished under the praise, and his confidence grew. And Batman was ready to give the ten-year-old a test.
"You go full out, chum, and I'll stay at one quarter power."
Not for long.
That was Dick's only thought before he launched himself at the man. Batman was completely ready for everything the boy threw at him. He had figured out a way to defend against Dick's speed and athleticism – the ten-year-old wasn't going to take him by surprise again. Until he did.
Dick took a soft jab to the side of his head and dropped to the ground. Batman was immediately on his knees beside the boy, concern already gnawing at the edges of his brain. What if Dick had a concussion again? How many concussions could one small brain handle?
Suddenly, a pair of strong, lithe legs were wrapped around the man's neck. The athletic muscles engaged, and Batman felt his airway closing. Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. Dick dropped his legs and Batman gasped for the air that the boy had almost taken from him.
"I got you again!" the ten-year-old exclaimed gleefully. "You thought I was knocked out and you came down to finish the job but I got you instead!"
"I came down to check on you, chum…"
"But a criminal wouldn't be checking on me, he would be trying to finish the job."
It was a good point, Batman had to admit that. Dick had seemed to be completely unconscious, and any criminal or villain would do exactly what Batman had just done. And Dick would have taken care of them, in a matter of seconds.
"Half power?" Dick asked. "Please?"
Standing up, Batman rubbed his slightly sore neck. He reached down and pulled Dick to his feet, then shook his head.
"We're done for now," the man answered. "Good job, kiddo."
Dick beamed, one of his million-watt smiles, and ran off to find Alfred. The butler needed to hear the good news: Dick had surprised Batman again.
One week later:
"How many breakouts are going to have to happen before Warden Crichton decides to hire more experienced guards?" Batman grumbled to the empty Batcave.
This large breakout was worse than the last one. Joker, Riddler, Mr. Freeze, Penguin, Scarecrow, Catwoman, Poison Ivy, the Clock King, Two-Face, and the Mad Hatter. Scarecrow had disabled the guards with one of his concoctions, leaving Batman wondering why there were rookie guards in the cell block full of villains. Out of the twelve guards on that floor, three were first-years and only two had more than five years of experience.
"In the block full of villains," Batman grumbled to himself again.
Mr. Freeze, Scarecrow, and Penguin had immediately gone in search of competent henchmen, while Two-Face and the Mad Hatter went for the weapons. In a span of only fifteen minutes, the State Pen had gone from almost-full capacity to missing ten villains and an as-yet-unnumbered amount of newly-christened henchmen.
"Do you think they'll all stay together?" came a young voice from behind the hero.
"Dick," Batman sighed as he turned around, "it's almost midnight. You should be in bed."
"It's Friday," the boy reminded him. "No school tomorrow."
"It's still almost midnight. Your weekend curfew is eleven o'clock, kiddo. You know that, I know that, Alfred knows that, so go to bed."
"You're going to need help keeping track of them," Dick replied, ignoring the instructions Batman had just given him. "There are too many, and they probably won't stay together. Right?"
Batman sighed again. Dick had a point – ten villains of that caliber wouldn't be able to be 'nice' to each other for long. Too many egos and not enough henchmen to go around. They were going to scatter, and Batman would need as many eyes and ears as he could get.
"Fine," the hero stated. "But when Alfred says bed, that means bed. Understand?"
The last word was more of a command than a question, so Dick nodded. Alfred, who had silently arrived during the short conversation, decided to speak.
"Sir, if I may…"
"No," Batman snapped, "I'm not letting him come with me."
Shaking his head, Alfred continued, "I was merely going to ask if Master Dick could be allowed to use more than just the Bat-computer, the Bat-camera viewer, and the Bat-communicator, sir. Since there are so many escapees, giving Master Dick access to every machine would be very helpful to us, sir."
"Of course," the hero replied with a short nod.
Nobody missed the fact that Batman's first thought was about Dick going with him, but nobody pointed it out, either.
"Every machine?" Dick asked, excitement in his voice.
Batman narrowed his eyes at the tone, wondering what off-limits machine Dick was so eager to use.
"If anything is broken when I return…" the hero began.
"Master Batman!" Alfred exclaimed, aghast at the implied accusation. "Master Dick is very responsible and will be extremely careful with everything!"
"Extremely!" Dick declared in agreement, his excitement causing him to bounce lightly on his toes.
"You better be," Batman grumbled.
Turning away from the boy, the hero strode to the Batmobile and climbed in.
"Extremely!" he stated forcefully while the vehicle roared to life.
Before Dick could reply, Batman was gone.
"Please, Alfred?"
"No, Master Dick!"
"So many escapees, like you said!"
"Do you not remember what happened last time you shadowed him, young sir?"
"Yeah, but I've been training and I'm stronger and better!"
"Master Dick…" Alfred began with a sigh.
"And his first thought was for me to go with him!" the boy interrupted.
"And his immediate answer to that thought was the equivalent of 'absolutely not', Master Dick."
"Fine," the ten-year-old muttered. "But I'm still using 'Robin'."
"A compromise I'm sure Master Batman will acquiesce, young sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to review the files of the villains."
"Why?" Dick asked. "We already know all about them."
"There is always the chance of overlooking something, Master Dick," Alfred responded, his tone slightly reproving. "Is this your first time helping down here, young sir?"
"Sorry," the boy replied. "Do you want me to help?"
"There is no reason to apologize, Master Dick. It was merely a reminder. Will you please start watching the Bat-cameras?"
"Okay!" Dick exclaimed.
He loved watching the happenings of Gotham City through the lenses of Batman's sophisticated machinery. Everything was so interesting, especially at night.
Dick walked over to the Bat-camera viewing machine and began perusing the different screens. What he saw worried him, and he glanced back at Alfred. The man was flipping through Bat-files, carefully re-reading facts on various villains.
"I'm going to the bathroom, Alfred," Dick called as he walked toward the service elevator.
"Hurry back, please, Master Dick," the old butler replied.
The ten-year-old was already in the elevator, on his way up to Wayne Manor and the home-made 'Robin' costume hidden in his closet. Batman had taken away the one from Alfred, but Dick was resourceful. Ever since Batman had admitted that he was thinking about Robin, the boy had been working on replicating the outfit. It was a rough copy, but it would do the job.
Downtown Gotham City – midnight:
Penguin, having gathered only three henchmen, had gone down easily. Catwoman had simply given up when Batman had walked up to her. She had flirted with him the entire ten minute ride to Police Headquarters, and the Caped Crusader had never been happier to drop a villain off.
But the rest had scattered, as Batman and Dick had assumed they would. The hero climbed into the Batmobile and turned on his Bat-communicator. Dick should have some idea of the whereabouts of at least several of the villains, since he was probably at the Bat-camera viewing machine.
"Batman to Batcave."
"How may I assist you, sir?" Alfred asked through the tiny speaker.
"I need locations. Penguin and Catwoman have been taken care of, but I have no idea where anyone else is."
"Master D…Robin's job is the Bat-camera viewing machine but he is currently unavailable. Give me a moment, please, sir."
"Unavailable?" Batman asked suspiciously.
"He has gone to the bathroom, sir. One moment, please."
Batman impatiently waited for more than 'one' moment, and was relieved when Alfred finally came back on the line.
"Joker disappeared into a warehouse at the docks, sir, and I just saw the Clock King enter the side door of the Gotham City Library."
"That's it?" Batman asked, disbelief in his voice.
"I took a quick glance, sir. When Master D…Robin comes back, I will have him communicate with you. He has been looking at the footage for longer than I did."
"Batman out," the hero replied shortly.
The Batmobile roared to life, and Batman headed for the docks. Joker was much more dangerous than the Clock King.
Wayne Manor – 12:07:
Dick, now dressed as Robin, raced down the stairs and to the garage. He would have to ride his bike again, because there was no way Alfred was going to drive him anywhere.
This is stupid. You're going to be banned again.
There are too many, he needs help.
He's going to be fine.
But Gotham City is not going to be fine. He can't catch them all tonight.
You're being an idiot. Again.
I'll be a helpful idiot, then.
"Shut up," the boy mumbled to himself, stopping the internal argument.
Not wanting Alfred to hear the garage door opening, Dick walked his bike through the side exit and down the driveway. As soon as the Manor was out of sight, the ten-year-old hopped on and headed for downtown Gotham. He had seen the moment when everyone scattered, and knew where most of them would be headed. If, of course, they followed their normal modes of operation and went to 'usual' hideouts.
Joker he was going to leave alone, Batman would probably go after the psychotic clown first anyway, so Robin was headed for Crime Alley. Two-Face would be gathering henchmen, and he liked recruiting from the various gangs headquartered in that part of the city.
Gang members were usually sloppy fighters, and Robin was confident that if he was quiet, he would be able to take down a few before anybody noticed. It would be best to get the drop on Two-Face first, but the opportunity would have to be perfect in order for a ten-year-old boy to take down an experienced villain who probably already had at least three different types of weapons.
It took Robin almost thirty minutes to ride the fourteen miles to the edge of Gotham City. Then it was almost fifteen more before he was stashing his bike behind a dumpster on the edge of Crime Alley. Hopefully, Two-Face was still here, recruiting goons and 'teaching' them how to become proper henchmen.
All Robin had to do was peer around the corner of the alley to know that he was already out of his league. The forty-five minutes it had taken him to get here had been too long. Two-Face had at least fifteen henchman, and the boy was sure there were probably three or four more throughout the area recruiting. This…was not a good idea. Again.
The henchmen were lined up, apparently being inspected by Two-Face. Robin had no choice, he had to take down Two-Face first. Get rid of the leader, and the rest might disperse. But the villain had a long gun in one hand, Robin had no idea what kind, and a wicked-looking knife in the other.
What did Robin have? His small fists and strong legs and…that was it. No weapons, and he had only ever fought Batman had quarter power. Villains and henchmen wouldn't hold back.
Go find someone else.
I'm already here!
There are too many people and too many weapons.
I'm already here!
Decision reluctantly made, Robin turned around and quietly ran down the alleyway. He circled around the building to the next alley. Now he was directly behind Two-Face, who was monologuing about some kind of henchmen "creed". Robin rolled his eyes but paid careful attention to the man's movements. He was only going to have one chance, and he was going to have to have perfect timing.
Warehouse by the docks:
"Oh, phooey," Joker whined as Batman tied him up with Bat-rope and secured the ends with a tight Bat-knot.
He was not in the mood to discuss anything with Joker, so the Caped Crusader remained silent. There were many villains and criminals still ready to terrorize Gotham, so talking to any of them would be a waste of precious time.
"Come on, Batsy…"
But Batman had walked away and was already in the Batmobile, calling the commissioner. He had picked up three within an hour, but only one of them had been an extremely dangerous one. And only one had henchmen, which meant the others had probably taken them all.
"Two-Face or Scarecrow?" the hero murmured, picking up his Bat-communicator.
They were both dangerous, so he decided to go after whoever was closest.
"Batman to Batcave."
The Batcave:
"Oh, dear, " Alfred murmured as when he noticed movement in Crime Alley.
Two-Face and his goons were easy to see, but only Batman or Alfred would have seen the tiny head that peeked around a corner and then disappeared.
"Master Dick, whatever am I going to do with you?"
"Batman to Batcave."
Alfred hesitated. Two-Face was extremely dangerous and Dick was in the area. But, the boy wasn't stupid. He knew the danger, and would probably just keep an eye on things until Batman was able to get there. Unless he decided to try to prove himself again.
"Good heavens!" Alfred exclaimed when Robin flipped his way out of the alley.
"Batman to Batcave!"
The hero's voice was impatient, but Alfred was torn. His eyes were glued to the view from the Bat-camera in Crime Alley.
Crime Alley:
Now or never. As good a time as any.
Two-Face was pacing in front of his henchmen, still talking, but his tone was much more intense now. Robin waited until the villain was at the far end of the row. Two back handsprings and a backflip later, Robin had knocked out one man and was in the process of taking down a second.
The goons were all focused on their new boss, and Robin had been quiet. The two men who were now unconscious on the ground hadn't made a sound when they had gone down. Robin began stealthily working his way toward Two-Face, staying behind the men so the villain wouldn't see him. Nobody expected a small child to be sneaking down the line, so nobody was paying attention. The new henchmen probably wouldn't have heard Robin, anyway, but the fact that they weren't expecting anything like this was helpful.
Suddenly, Robin stopped. He was near the middle, and there was a henchman who was acting rather strangely. The man seemed nervous, but wasn't outwardly showing it. Only someone being trained by Batman would notice the difference.
Robin stared, surprise dashing through his eyes, when the henchman put his hands behind his back and slowly pulled out a gun. The surprise changed to incredulity, because the man was holding an official weapon of the Gotham City Police Department. He was obviously a mole, although not a very good one. What kind of mole uses the weapon issued to him by Chief O'Hara?
How he was going to deal with this new development, Robin wasn't sure. The man could be helpful, or he could be a detriment. He could take down some henchmen while Robin went after Two-Face, or he could quickly be taken down, leaving Robin to deal with the henchmen.
The decision was almost immediately taken out of Robin's hands. The man stepped out of the row of goons and pointed his gun at the villain.
"Freeze, Two-Face!" the mole shouted.
All eyes turned to the man, and Robin took the opportunity to scamper the rest of the way down the line. If he could get around the last man quickly enough, he could surprise Two-Face and, hopefully, take him down.
Everything was completely silent for about fifteen seconds. The henchmen weren't sure how to react – they were, after all, brand new and needed instructions from their boss – and Two-Face was just surprised. Then he started chuckling. It turned into full-fledged laughter and the henchmen took their cue, joining in and laughing.
"You're either a stupid recruit, or a mole," Two-Face declared. "Which is it? No, wait! I'll let the coin decide."
Robin immediately recognized the opportunity. The villain would be focused on the coin, as would all the henchmen. He would take everyone completely by surprise, and nobody would be able to react in time.
Two-Face flipped the coin and all eyes watched as it flew up in the air and began its descent. Robin, as soon as the coin reached its peak, raced around the last henchman.
The first thing the ten-year-old did was dive into the backs of the villain's knees. His legs buckled, and Robin jumped to his feet. The coin hit the asphalt as Two-Face began falling backwards. Robin whirled around and threw his right foot into the villain's chest, accelerating the man's fall and knocking the wind out of him.
A shot rang out, but it didn't faze Robin. He was too focused on taking down the dangerous villain. Two-Face was on his back, gasping, so the ten-year-old dropped to his knees and threw a sharp jab at the side of the villain's head. The eyes of Two-Face darkened with rage before they lost focus and closed. Robin had just knocked out one of Batman's most dangerous foes.
The Batcave:
"Batman! To! Batcave!"
Alfred, startled back into the Batcave, quickly flipped the switch on the Bat-communicator machine.
"Yes, sir?"
"Locations, Alfred! I've been trying to get one of you for the last four minutes! Why hasn't Robin picked up?!"
Why indeed, Alfred mused thoughtfully.
"Scarecrow is currently terrorizing some hostages inside Gotham National Bank," the butler deflected. "At least twelve hostages, sir, including the bank manager."
"On my way," Batman growled, accidentally ignoring the fact that Alfred hadn't answered his question.
Turning back to the Bat-camera viewing machine, Alfred watched in amazement as Robin finished taking down Two-Face. It turned to concern when the group of henchmen began moving. But their leader was down; the henchmen were just leaving.
"Thank heavens," the butler murmured.
One henchman stayed, and he was holding a gun. Alfred was surprised when the man lowered the gun, instead of just shooting Robin, who was kneeling by the villain.
"Master Robin, be observant," Alfred stated aloud, as if his words could be heard all the way from Wayne Manor across Gotham City and into Crime Alley.
Crime Alley:
Robin looked up, and relief filled his chest. He had, thankfully, been correct. Without a leader, the goons were no longer henchmen, and they were dispersing. The mole was at the other end, still holding his gun. But he lowered it, as the ten-year-old had assumed he would, and was now striding toward Robin and the fallen villain.
"Who are you?" the mole asked in disbelief when he arrived at their position.
Crap.
Robin couldn't exactly say he was Batman's partner, since he wasn't, so he simply replied, "Robin."
"Okay," the man said, "but why are you here and dressed like that and taking on villains and criminals by yourself?"
Crap again.
Robin didn't have an answer for that one. Unless he wanted to say he was being trained by Batman and was going to join the hero soon. Which he wasn't going to say, because he probably wouldn't be. Especially after this, since he could have potentially died a couple of times.
Questions abruptly began racing through the boy's mind. Why was he suddenly dizzy, and why was the man going in and out of focus, and why was the ocean swishing around in his head, and why was the man continuously moving his mouth but only making a few sounds?
"…bleeding…instead…Two-Face…headquarters…"
Robin stared at the man in confusion. Two-Face wasn't bleeding, the ten-year-old had merely knocked him out. But he nodded when he heard the last word, because they did need to get the villain to headquarters. Well, the man did, because Robin needed to go in search of other villains and henchmen.
But the man suddenly swooped him up, and panic raced through the boy's mind. He twisted out of the man's grasp and fell limply to the ground.
"Kid!" the man exclaimed, kneeling down by the prone body.
Robin executed his newest trick perfectly. His legs closed around the man's neck and his athletic muscles engaged. The man slipped into unconsciousness after only twelve seconds. After releasing the man, Robin sat up and put a hand to his head, wondering why he now had a major headache. That's when he felt the familiar feeling of blood slowly trickling down his arm.