Commissioner Gordon's office – later that evening:
"Begorrah!" Chief O'Hara whispered as he watched Dick fall against the desk and saw the resulting splash of blood. "What kind of man, a teacher no less, does this to a littl' boy?"
"This is video from a Bat-camera?" Commissioner Gordon asked. He received a confirming nod from the blue-clad man on his left and sighed.
"And you're telling me that if I watch security tapes from the school, I will see Dick Grayson starting fights everywhere he goes?"
Another nod, this one accompanied by a quiet growl of irritation.
"Does Bruce Wayne know about this? Of course he does, how else would he know to ask you to place a Bat-camera in the classroom. He did ask you, right?"
"No," Batman replied stiffly. "I heard rumors and wanted the truth. Bat-cameras, as you well know, cannot be altered in any way. This is the truth, Commissioner."
"Well, I suppose we'll have to arrest him."
"Let me talk to him first," Batman demanded.
"I don't know, Batman. You seem…extremely irritated. I don't want…"
"Are you not irritated?!" the Caped Crusader roared.
"Of course I'm upset!" Commissioner Gordon exclaimed. "This man just assaulted a small child! But sometimes you…well, you…I'm not sure how to say it, Batman."
"Sometimes I'm a little rough with people," the hero growled, grudgingly acknowledging the implied accusation and internally admitting that, in this case, the unspoken allegation could easily turn into the truth.
"That's one way to put it, I guess."
"Fine. But I do know that Bruce Wayne has a teacher conference after school. Maybe you should give him a chance to find out the real story, to see if the teacher will lie to him. Dick Grayson, after all, is Mr. Wayne's ward."
"That's a good point, Batman. I'll go to the school tomorrow afternoon. Thank you for this information. May I keep the video?"
"Of course, Commissioner. It should be useful when you interrogate the criminal."
With that, Batman swept out the door, leaving the commissioner and the chief to wonder why the hero seemed so invested in this case.
"Probably because it involves a small child," the commissioner murmured, and Chief O'Hara agreed.
The next day:
"Wayne Manor."
Alfred answered the phone in the living room that had been ringing off and on since six o'clock in the morning. This time, however, someone answered back.
"This is Principal Mercer at Gotham Elementary. May I speak to Mr. Wayne, please?"
"If you will hold one moment, sir, I shall let him know you are on the phone."
The butler wanted to growl at the man, similar to what Batman would have done, but refrained. Instead, he went to the dining room, where Bruce and Dick were silently eating breakfast.
"Mr. Mercer is on the phone for you, Master Bruce."
Dick visibly flinched and Bruce frowned as he stood up. He had known this call was coming and was not looking forward to it.
"Principal Mercer, what can I do for you?" Bruce inquired as he picked up the phone. His voice was cheery but he was struggling to maintain the façade.
"I'm afraid this call is not a good one, Mr. Wayne. I need to speak to you about Dick Grayson. It's a very important matter, do you mind coming in this afternoon?"
"How fortuitous," Bruce replied. "I have a conference with Mr. Jerkins right after school. I can speak with you after that, if you like."
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I would say that I look forward to seeing you but, under the circumstances, it is difficult for me to do so. Good day."
Bruce slammed the phone down so hard that it tumbled off the table.
"Unfortunately for you," he grumbled, "I do look forward to speaking with you."
That afternoon:
Bruce stalked into Dick's fourth-grade classroom. Mr. Jerkins was at his desk, going through some paperwork. Plastering a smile on his face, Bruce strode over and sat down in the chair that was obviously set up for parents. The teacher looked up, smiled and then shook his head in disappointment.
"Thank you for coming, Mr. Wayne."
"Bruce," the millionaire stated, like any parent would do when discussing their children with teachers.
"Okay, Bruce," Mr. Jerkins nodded. "And I'm Mark. It's nice to meet you, although I wish I had a better report for you."
"Oh?" Bruce said with the perfect combination of confusion and surprise in his voice.
"I really don't like having to say things like this but your son – sorry, your ward – likes to fight. He taunts and teases and tries to get almost every boy – and even some of the girls – to fight him. He's a bully, Bruce."
"But I have received such good notes about him!" Bruce exclaimed, his tone outlined with astonishment. "I know he has trouble paying attention in class but I've never received any information like this!"
"Well, we've been working on it with him here but it has become too much for us to handle, I'm afraid. Just yesterday he tried to take on Johnny, one of our more fragile children who has a lot of friends. Dick often loses the fights because he's too small to defend himself very well. But that doesn't stop him from starting them."
"I did notice his swollen eye yesterday…"
"He told you it wasn't his fault, am I correct?" Mark interrupted.
Bruce sat perfectly still with his mouth hanging open, feigning shock.
"You see, he does that. He goes to see the principal but always blames someone else. We have evidence, would you like to see it?"
Batman had already seen it but, like any good parent, Bruce agreed to see whatever evidence the school had against his boy. Mark had one of the security tapes ready to play on the TV in his classroom. It was one of the more violent ones: Dick had "started" three fights in less than two hours.
"And you're just allowing this to happen?!" Bruce exclaimed, the anger in his voice completely real.
"Like I said, we've been working on it. Every time he says he'll do better and sometimes he does. But, the majority of the time, he can't control his anger, Bruce."
There was a long stretch of silence and Mark assumed that the millionaire was attempting to absorb the information. Bruce, however, was actually trying to keep himself from vaulting over the teacher's desk and beating him to a pulp.
"I know this must be a shock. Dick really is a good student. His homework is always completed correctly, his test scores are always high and he's always willing to comment in class. I believe that the trauma of losing his parents in such a horrible manner has caused him to finally lash out at others. He's angry about what happened, Bruce – as anyone would be – but we can't allow him to continue doing this."
"What are you saying?" Bruce nearly growled.
"Well, that's something you need to talk to Principal Mercer about. I understand that you have a meeting with him after our conference?"
Nodding his head, the millionaire ran a hand down his face and sighed.
"Anything else?" he asked wearily. The tone was directed at the behavior of the men, not the fact that Dick was allegedly picking fights, but the teacher didn't need to know that.
"No. His grades and classroom behavior are good, his outside behavior is reprehensible. If you could just sign here," Mr. Jerkins slid Dick's report card across his desk, "then we'll be done."
Bruce stared down at the piece of paper: PE behavior and participation – excellent; music behavior and participation – excellent; math – excels; social studies – excellent; language arts – excellent; science – excellent; social skills – unsatisfactory.
With a flourish of his pen, the millionaire signed the card, accepted his copy and stood up. He buttoned his suit jacket, nodded politely to the teacher and left the room. The hallway was empty and four classrooms later he angrily punched a wall with his left hand. Ignoring the small dribble of blood on his knuckles, Bruce strode around the corner to the principal's office.
Sam Mercer was sitting at his desk, flipping through a file, when Bruce walked in. The principal immediately stood up and extended his hand. The millionaire grabbed it firmly and shook it harder than necessary, but he was having trouble controlling his rage.
"I'll get right to the point, Mr. Wayne. I assume Mr. Jerkins already showed you the video?" He received a confirming nod and continued, "We have several more of those, Mr. Wayne. I feel that we are out of options at this point. I have decided to expel your ward; I can't continue to risk the safety of our other children."
"What I don't understand," Bruce snapped, "is why I'm finding out about this when you are ready to expel him. Don't you think I should have been informed earlier so we could have worked together on his behalf?"
"I'm sure Mark – Mr. Jerkins – explained that we've been working on it here at school."
"That doesn't answer my question, Mr. Mercer. Why would you wait to inform me until the last minute, when you feel that your only option is to expel him?"
The principal had nothing to say. It was a relevant question but one he wasn't prepared to answer. Mark Jerkins was his best teacher, to everyone else anyway, and he didn't want his best teacher to be fired because of some small incidents with some nobody kid.
Suddenly, Commissioner Gordon strode into the office.
"Principal Mercer, I assume? Hello, Bruce."
The commissioner's tone was formal at first and then cordial when he acknowledged the presence of the millionaire.
"Is there a problem, Commissioner?" the principal asked politely.
"I have something I need you to see. Do you have a Mark Jerkins, who teaches fourth grade?"
"Yes. Again, is there a problem?"
"Please call him to your office immediately."
"Would you like me to leave, Jim?" Bruce asked quietly while the principal called the teacher.
"No, Bruce, this also involves you. And Dick Grayson."
"More fighting?" Bruce asked, sounding resigned.
"No, a very different story, which I'm sure you'll be interested in."
Mark Jerkins walked into the office and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of the commissioner and his chief of police.
"Please put this tape in your TV, Mr. Mercer. Before you play it, however, I need to explain something. This footage is from a Bat-camera, which is an impossible-to-alter piece of equipment. Batman brought it to me last night. Please play the tape, Principal."
The video began, the words were easily understandable and the actions were undeniably clear. Bruce jumped to his feet, his face turning red with fury, and almost lunged across the room at Mark Jerkins.
"He got that from you?!" Bruce thundered. He had, of course, already seen this video but he didn't have to feign the anger that burst out of him.
"You all lied?! He's completely innocent and you tried to blame him for fighting when really you assaulted him?!"
Chief O'Hara had to physically restrain Bruce, who was struggling to not let Batman take both men down.
"As I said before," the commissioner stated, "Bat-camera footage is impossible to change, to alter in any way. Mark Jerkins, you are under arrest for assault and battery of a minor…"
"HE'S NINE!" Bruce exploded. "He's more than just a minor, Jim! He's only nine!"
"Chief," the commissioner demanded quietly. Nodding in understanding, Chief O'Hara practically shoved Bruce out of the room.
"Nothin' can be gained by yellin', Mr. Wayne," the chief stated. "We'll handle this; let us do our job."
Bruce nodded but allowed the fury to continue coursing through his body. Chief O'Hara saw the trembling muscles but wasn't surprised. If it had been his kid, the chief knew he would be reacting the same way.
"Go home, Mr. Wayne. You take care of the boy, we'll take care of this."
The answer was a curt nod and a growled, "See that you do."
Bruce turned around and left the school. He wanted to become Batman and take the guy down now but Chief O'Hara was right – he needed to take care of Dick. Batman, however, would be paying the man a visit sometime in the near future.
Police Headquarters – later that evening:
"May I speak with him, Commissioner?" Bruce Wayne asked, his tone polite but outlined with anger.
"I'm sorry, Bruce, but I don't think that's a good idea. Chief O'Hara is taking care of the situation, he's interrogating Jerkins right now, and sending you in would not be helpful."
"Can I at least watch and listen?"
Commissioner Gordon thought for a moment. Maybe it would help Bruce to hear the man's excuses and explanations. But he was a friend of Batman and, perhaps, the millionaire would feel the need to call on the services of the Caped Crusader.
"I won't do anything, Jim, if that's what you're worried about. I won't tell anybody what I hear in there."
"Anybody, Bruce?"
"Anybody."
With a quick nod, the commissioner led the millionaire to the viewing area of interrogation room C. He wanted Bruce to sit, but the man insisted on standing. Bruce knew he was going to pace and he didn't want to keep getting up and down.
Commissioner Gordon flipped the switch and the two men began listening to the conversation.
"I'm going to ask you again, Mark," Chief O'Hara stated. His voice had a slight edge to it; he had been talking to the man on and off for nearly three hours.
"How long has this been goin' on? There's no use in denying it since we have video evidence. How. Long?"
"The child practically begs for discipline," Mark Jerkins replied flippantly. "His guardian apparently doesn't do anything about it. Somebody has to give him boundaries! The hit was obviously a complete accident; I was throwing my arm around in frustration and he leaned in toward it. Why should I be punished? He's the one who got in the way."
Bruce was already pacing and fury was already coursing through his body. What kind of excuse was that?! Who throws one arm out in frustration and what kind of kid would purposely try to get in the way? Not one like Dick Grayson, that was an absolute certainty.
"Come on, Mark. We both know it can't have been just this once."
Chief O'Hara brought some pictures out of the file folder in front of him. They were the ones Bruce had taken of his ward's battered body and the millionaire stopped pacing. How was the guy going to explain those away?
"I have no idea what those are from. Is that even Grayson? How can you tell from the pictures; there are no identifying features."
"Your principal was able to identify the boy when Batman presented these pictures."
"Well, maybe they're from Mercer then. Who knows, maybe it's even Wayne!"
Bruce almost punched the glass when he heard that. Commissioner Gordon grabbed the arm that the millionaire didn't even know was raised and roughly guided him to a chair.
"Sit down, Bruce. We all know you wouldn't do anything like that. Stay there or I'm kicking you out."
The words were steely and Bruce knew he had no choice. He nodded and folded his arms across his chest. Trying to glare his way through the window, Batman waited for the next idiotic excuse.
"I'm going to ignore that last comment," the chief declared, "because it's a ridiculous accusation and you could be sued for slander."
Mark shrugged the statement away and yawned.
"Are we done yet?"
"No, Jerkins, we aren't done. You're about to be booked."
Standing up, Chief O'Hara left the room and entered the viewing area.
"Bruce!" he said in surprise.
"I'm not going to sue, Chief. He's going to jail, what's the point?"
Nodding in agreement, the chief left to prepare the booking area. In the interrogation room, Mark Jerkins grinned at the mirror. He had heard the one word Chief O'Hara had just said and hoped that Grayson's guardian was still listening.
"Mark my words, the kid's a troublemaker. You'd be better off without him, Wayne. If you keep him, you might want to watch his back. But you should probably toss him out."
Fuming and irritated, Bruce stood up and almost marched through the door.
"Out!" Commissioner Gordon commanded and the millionaire, although he really didn't want to, obeyed.
The commissioner joined him a few minutes later.
"That was a real threat, Jim. He has a brother with a criminal record."
"We're taking the brother back to jail. His janitorial assignment was work detail, not a condition of probation. You don't have to worry about him."
Bruce nodded, satisfied with the answer, and held out his hand. Commissioner Gordon reciprocated and the millionaire gave him a slight grin.
"Thank you for allowing me in, Jim. And for restraining me."
The commissioner chuckled quietly and replied, "At least it was you and not Batman. I don't think I would have been able to stop him."
Nodding again, Bruce walked down the hall toward the exit.
"Bruce!" Jim called and the millionaire turned around.
"Take good care of that boy. He's going to need help after everything that's happened."
Another nod was the response to that statement and then the millionaire was gone.