Chapter 12:

The fight had been easy, but long. The men in the gang had decided that, for some reason, it would be better to fight Batman one at a time. The crime-fighter wasn't sure why. Even after ten guys had gone down, they had still refused to gang up on him. He was constantly fighting, but they were untrained and went down quickly. But there had been so many!

After a quick stop at the Batcave to restock his supply of Bat-bars, the Caped Crusader returned to the State Pen. It was two in the morning; hopefully Robin was asleep. He quietly walked down the hall and stopped at number 4. There was a soft but steady whine coming from the computer. Batman glanced over and saw a blinking message. The words were "Code X4".

The hero picked up the phone and called the processing desk.

"Lt. Copple, State Pen processing."

"It's Batman, up in solitary. What is Code X4?"

"The 'X' is for extra and four would be the cell number. Wait, you're in solitary?"

"Yes, so what does this mean?"

"Somebody added extra time. I'll be right up."

The phone went quiet and Batman stared at the computer in disbelief. Somebody had added to Robin's time in isolation?

"I shouldn't have left, I knew it!" he growled softly.

"Let me look, Batman."

Lt. Copple had already arrived and was typing commands.

"Okay," he said, pointing to the grid on the screen. "A little after midnight somebody opened the door. Then closed it, then opened it, then closed it again and opened it again. It stayed open for a while and then closed again."

"How do we know if he's even in there?" Batman asked.

"Because," Copple replied, "of this. See this dot? It's called a max stamp. When I click on it…"

They both stared at the screen in shock. Robin had been given an extra twelve hours for "unruly behavior".

"So we can't get him out until tomorrow morning, instead of tonight after dinner?!"

"Not unless we can find the guard that did this. Wait a minute. It doesn't show a password change. That's good for us."

"Why?" Batman demanded.

"Because the password was entered recently, which means there could be a lingering hint in the system. Lt. Muschamp is better at this, but I'll get started. If we can find the hint, we're on track to figuring out the password. It's a long shot – the hint won't give us enough information – but at least we'll be pointing in the right direction instead of completely lost."

Lt. Copple's fingers began racing around the keyboard. Batman walked over to number 4 and pounded on it. Hopefully, he was just waking Robin up.

"Robin, answer me! Robin!"

The Caped Crusader called his name several times every hour on the hour but never received an answer. When the bell rang for breakfast, Lt. Copple returned to processing and sent up Lt. Muschamp.

"If we can find this," Muschamp immediately warned, "we can only erase the extra twelve hours. We still have to wait for the original time to be done."

Nodding his head in understanding, Batman pounded on the door again.

"Time to get up sleepy-head. The bell rang for breakfast. Let's go, Robin, don't be lazy!"

Robin was floating in darkness, his body still slumped against the toilet and half of his young face still submerged. His mind was empty and his heartbeat slow. Air and water were still fighting for control.

The water was red now. Blood had been seeping out of the wounds on his head for several hours. It had slowed down, but the lack of pressure ensured that it didn't stop. On the exposed half of his face, the blood had dried and was stuck to almost every inch of pale skin.

Batman's yelling, however, was taking its toll. Every sound was like a cat swiping its sharp claws across a chalkboard. The screeching of the breakfast bell burst into his mind, awakening a small light. This tiny beam began racing through the darkness, leaving minute, glowing circles everywhere it touched.

The old guard ambled into Cell Block N, headed for number 4 with a peanut butter sandwich and some water. He stopped in shock when he saw Batman pounding on the door and the computer-savvy Lt. Muschamp rapidly typing on the keyboard.

"What do you want?" the Caped Crusader growled.

Muschamp ignored the sound, desperately searching for the tiny hint that would allow him to erase the extra twelve hours. There was no way the boy had been 'unruly' and the lieutenant was going to fix this and then find out who had done it.

"Breakfast," the old guard answered, holding up the bag.

Without waiting for permission, the man slowly knelt down and pushed the bag through the slit. Nothing happened – the bag didn't disappear and there was no sound of someone moving around to get it.

"Take it out, I've got breakfast," Batman demanded.

"Okay," the older man acquiesced.

Carefully rising to his feet, the guard held out the bag. The hero didn't give it a second glance, so the wizened man shrugged his shoulders, dropped it on the ground and limped out the door. If Batman wanted to give the kid a smashed-up sandwich, that was his choice.

"Robin, I've got Bat-bars."

Opening the slit, the Caped Crusader pushed two of them into the cell. He held the slit open, attempting to see inside. The cell was too dark, though, preventing him from seeing anything.

Batman waited for the sound of a Bat-bar wrapper being torn open. And waited. Five agonizing minutes passed and the hero began pounding on the door again.

"If you're working out again, at least tell me! I know something happened last night, chum. You don't have to talk about it for now; just let me know that you're in there!"

"He's in there," Lt. Muschamp murmured. "If he had escaped, or been taken out, the person who was here wouldn't have taken the time to add an extra twelve hours."

The man had made a good point. Robin had to be in there. Maybe he was just in a really deep sleep, or was too upset to talk about anything. Perhaps something really bad had happened, something the teenager would be ashamed to admit.

"At least tell me to shut up!" Batman yelled, pounding on the door one last time before taking a break.

There was a quiet 'thump', and then…nothing.

Robin was still completely unconscious. But the tiny dots of light had merged together and his brain had slightly awakened. Somehow, his brain convinced his muscles to move. They complied, and the teenager slid off the edge of the toilet, landing on his back with a quiet 'thump'. Air received total control and began flooding his body with oxygen.

If Robin had been awake, he would have felt his body screaming at him in pain. But he wasn't, so he didn't.

Batman was pounding on the door and shouting every ten minutes. Lt. Muschamp had a very large headache and it was becoming difficult to concentrate. He knew if his partner was in there, he would be doing the same thing. But he was searching for a tiny needle in a complicated haystack and the noise was doing more harm than good.

"Batman, I need it quiet. It's hard enough to find this without you yelling all the time."

"Muschamp," the hero growled, "my fifteen-year-old partner is in there, not making any sounds, and you expect me to just give up?!"

"No, I just need longer than ten minutes at a time. Maybe you could go investigate, try to figure out who was in on this. Who hates the boy, or wants revenge or…something."

"Almost everybody in here does!" Batman exclaimed.

He paused momentarily and then snarled, "The villains in Cell Block M. They would probably have the resources to do something like this."

Without waiting for an answer, the Caped Crusader flew out the door, heading for block M. A tiny spark of hope danced in his chest. If somebody had done something, Robin would have left proof. The Boy Wonder would not have given in easily, no matter the circumstances.

People were talking and the noise was too loud. Robin's brain couldn't make the sounds into words, but the harsh voices were waking him up. Now he could feel the pain rippling throughout his body, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even open his eyes.

The Boy Wonder was lying on his back with his legs curled up backwards on his left side. His arms were still tightly bound together underneath him, the rigid cuffs biting into his forearms and his fingers curled awkwardly against the floor. Most of the blood on his head was completely dry, caking his hair and face in a layer of cracked, crimson mud. Robin's right cheek was resting on the cold ground, his head having fallen to the side when his body had slid off the toilet.

Breathing hurt, every whisper of air flowing in felt like an ice pick scraping down his lungs. He wanted to stop breathing, but that was also out of his control. His throat was raw and felt squished – the nightstick had been a valuable, and convenient, asset to Joker's plan.

Someone was pounding a nail into his chest, Robin was absolutely positive about that. He was now floating in and out of consciousness, never alert enough to do anything, but just aware enough to feel every tiny bit of pain. The agony was overwhelming, but the loud noises kept bringing him back from the brink of darkness that would give him some relief.

A soft moan escaped his mouth, but his older partner was too far away to hear it and Lt. Muschamp was too focused to acknowledge it.

Cell Block M:

It was nearly lunch time and Batman was waiting in the shadows near the end of the block. Every single person would have to pass him on the way to the cafeteria, but the darkness was hiding him well. The bell screamed, and Batman tensed in anticipation.

Riddler, Mr. Freeze, Penguin, henchman after henchman, villain after villain all filed past his spot. Joker was near the end, deep in conversation with a run-of-the-mill henchman. Batman couldn't see the villain's face but there was a quiet hitch in the man's breathing. Either he had been in a fight this morning, or Robin had left proof last night, just as Batman had known he would. His young partner was a fighter who would never give in to a villain. Especially, the Caped Crusader knew, if that villain was Joker.

The man despised the boy, hated him with every fiber of his being. Robin wasn't like that; he could never hate someone with so much passion. But, if he could, Joker would be the one on the receiving end of that hatred.

A blue-gloved hand snapped out of the shadows, grabbing the right shoulder of Joker and spinning him around to face a wall. Batman pushed the man's torso against the wall and whipped both purple-gloved hands behind the villain. Clasping the man's wrists with one hand, the Caped Crusader grabbed the neck of Joker's shirt and smashed his body all the way against the wall.

"What did you do, Joker," Batman snarled quietly in the villain's ear.

"What are you talking about?" the man gasped with a touch of fear in his tone.

Without answering, Batman snatched a pair of Bat-cuffs out of his utility belt and snapped them around Joker's wrists. Grabbing the villain's shoulders, the hero spun him around. Clenching his hands on the front of the man's shirt, Batman shoved Joker's back against the wall, 'accidentally' forcing his head to connect with the cement.

"Where were you last night?" Batman snarled again, his face an inch from that of the villain.

"In my cell, like everybody else," Joker answered. Raising his voice, he shouted, "Help, I'm being attacked, somebody help!"

There were two guards bringing up the rear. Joker watched in disbelief as they passed by without a second glance in his direction.

"Didn't you hear me?" he screamed. "I'm being assaulted!"

"Shut up, Joker," one of the guards answered. "Just answer the man's questions and then you can have lunch."

"Why are you leaving?! I'll escape," he threatened. "I'll run away after this 'delightful' conversation, you'll never catch me!"

The other guard turned around, sighed in annoyance, and responded, "I'm sure that Batman can help you find your way to the cafeteria. And I've heard that it's pretty much impossible to escape from Bat-cuffs. So, good luck with that."

The guards turned the corner and soon even their voices had disappeared. Batman glared at Joker with a savage grin.

"Just you and me, Joker. Tell me what you did or we can have this chat in the small cells up in block N. It's difficult to move around – dodge, if you will – in there."

"Yep," the villain muttered under his breath, just low enough that he was sure the hero couldn't hear him.

The hero was, however, Batman.

"So, you have experience. Tell me, Joker," Batman snarled for the third time, "when did you gain such experience? Could it have been last night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the villain mumbled.

"Why don't I believe you?" the Caped Crusader murmured, the threat in his voice obvious. "Maybe it's because your breathing is labored, or the fact that your nose is purple. Or perhaps it's the crack on your forehead, that I'm sure could begin bleeding with a quick punch. Maybe it's the way you're trembling under my hands, or the guilt flooding your eyes. It could even be that I know for a fact that if you had seen Robin last night, he would leave proof like this no matter what you tried to do to him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joker repeated.

But the fear in his voice was very noticeable and he knew he wasn't fooling anybody, especially Batman.

"You're an idiot," Batman stated, his voice deadly quiet. "You can't fake your way out of this so just tell me what you did. Who was with you, what's the password, and everything else that has happened in these past two days."

"Password?" Joker mumbled, surprise in his voice this time.

Batman pulled the villain away from the wall then slammed him back into it.

"Which guard do you have in your pocket? Or guards. You can still choose to go up to N, where there's an angry lieutenant who would have no qualms about opening a cell for us. He would close it, too, and leave us alone to chat."

"We are chatting, we don't need to go up there," Joker mumbled.

"Then answer the questions!" Batman roared in his face.

The conversation was becoming too long for the Clown Prince of Crime and he was bursting to tell somebody, anybody, what he had done. Batman would probably beat him to a pulp but at least the crime-fighter would know that he didn't have a sidekick anymore.

"Dead as a doornail!" the villain suddenly crowed triumphantly.

"WHAT?!" Batman exploded, horror filling the one word.

"Yep," Joker stated calmly, popping the 'p' as he usually did. "Dead as a drowned rat. Which is funny, really, because that's exactly what happened!"

The villain let out a loud, boisterous, joy-filled cackle. Batman stared at him in disbelief. No, Robin wasn't dead. Joker had to be lying. Maybe he was banged up enough to seem dead but his young partner was just unconscious. Most likely. Possibly. No, Joker was definitely lying. Robin was definitely alive.

"You should be proud," Joker continued gleefully. "He didn't beg at all, much stronger than I assumed. I mean, he's so little…was so little. And don't worry, he talked until the end. Taunting until he couldn't anymore because his tiny head was covered with water. What water, you ask? The liquid in the toilet accompanied by two large water bottles. Don't worry, I flushed first so everything was sanitary."

Batman was staring at Joker during his entire monologue, alarm and horror and panic rolling around his chest and becoming a solid ball of dread. No, it couldn't be true. Joker was just making it up, thinking about what he wanted to do to Robin.

"Those baby-blue eyes, swimming with anger but outlined with terror," Joker stated dreamily. "I am going to miss those brilliant, expressive eyes."

"Shut. Up." Batman commanded, his tone dangerous. "You're lying."

"Hmmmmm," the villain murmured, his crimson lips turned up in a gruesome grin. "Am I, though? Would I really lie to you about something like this?"

"Yes," the hero replied darkly, "you would."

"I can describe it in more detail, if you want. How can I convince you that it's the truth? As you said, he left proof right in front of you. He managed to break my nose and got in some good hits on my chest. He also," Joker whined as his grin turned into a pout, "kicked my best knife out the window. I didn't even get to use it!"

Batman was speechless. Could it be true? Joker's nose was purple and his breathing was a little uneven. But that didn't mean Robin was dead. Beaten near to death, probably, but not dead. He was Robin, he couldn't be dead.

"You want to hear his last words? 'Joke's on you again', he said. Well, more like whispered. That was right before he kicked my knife out the window. He had to use the word 'again' because he had said it earlier, right before our foreheads connected."

There was a short pause as Joker intently studied Batman's eyes. The hero was good at concealing any emotion so the villain couldn't tell if the Caped Crusader believed him.

"Oh, yeah, and he did do something impressive! Imagine that, I said the Boy Blunder was impressive. Huh, I'm getting soft."

"Joker," Batman finally stated. The word was quiet but full of threatening implications.

"Sorry, tangent," the villain apologized sarcastically. "My, um, friend handcuffed your sidekick's hands behind his back but the boy rolled around on the ground and came up with his hands in front of him! He is…was…quite athletic, wasn't he? I will miss watching him flip around my henchman but at least they won't be taken out. As quickly, I mean, because of course you can probably take them out by yourself. Most of them, anyway. I won't have to pay as many, that's good!"

The last sentence was softer, almost as if the villain was talking to himself.

"YOU. ARE. LYING!" Batman roared.

But Joker could hear fear outlining the words. Fear and a little bit of panic.

"Oh, and just to be sure, my friend gave him an extra twelve hours in his lonely cell. Just in case he somehow survived his watery grave – which he didn't, I assure you. But, if he had been able to, all his wounds would have taken him anyway. He's probably still bleeding, I left him hanging over the edge with his face still submerged and his arms still bound tightly behind his back. No way to put any pressure on any of the many bloody wounds on his head."

Batman had not said anything about extra time. The only way Joker could have known that was if he was there when the guard – whoever it was – had closed the door. But Robin was a fighter, a survivor. He would have found a way around death; he had done that before.

But never with his face underwater and tied up.

Tossing the thought away as he dropped the villain's shirt, the Caped Crusader punched him in the face as hard as he could. Joker collapsed, Batman picked him up and threw him against the opposite wall.

"He is not dead," the hero growled at the bloody face and battered body of the villain.

Turning away from the scene, Batman sprinted down the hall toward the stairs that would lead him to Cell Block N.

"YOU ARE NOT DEAD!" he yelled as he ran. "Please…" he whispered, the word outlined with despair.