Robin, the Boy of Steel Elseworlds

by Syl

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Robin?

2. (Part 2)

Author: Syl Francis Email: efrancis@earthlink.net Title: Robin, the Boy of Steel [An Elseworlds Tale] Rating: PG Part 2

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Summary: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...Robin?! Part Two contains Chapters 6- 10. Dick begins to explore his long-latent powers. Bruce travels to Smallville, Kansas to investigate the secret that John and Mary Grayson took with them to the grave.

Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright.

Feedback is welcome!

Copyright April 2000

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Robin: the Boy of Steel [An Elseworlds Tale] By Syl Francis

Chapter Six

Dick woke up that morning feeling excited. For the past week, each day had been one of new and spine-tingling surprises. It was amazing how quickly he was learning to control his unique gifts.

He grinned to himself. In order to 'catalogue' Dick's vision powers, Alfred assigned them 'names.' The boy's ability to see through objects was now called 'X-ray vision' and his remarkable talent for heating things up to the melting point, they called--duh!--'Heat vision.'

Dick chuckled at their lack of imagination.

Alfred also helped Dick realize that he could see things far away. He pointed out that by being able to *see* that little girl from a distance all those years ago, then quite possibly Dick also had what Alfred called 'Telescopic vision.'

To test it, Dick immediately ran outside to the front lawn and tried to spot the iron gates, which led to the estate, located almost a mile down the gravel drive.

"Whoa," he whispered, as he zoomed in on his objective. A black crow suddenly swooped into his line of vision and startled him. Crying out, Dick automatically ducked and covered his head in reflex. It seemed as if the bird was right on his face.

Realizing his mistake, Dick looked up at Alfred, slightly embarrassed. Alfred smiled down at him and gently squeezed his shoulder.

"That's quite all right, Master Dick," he said. "The point is, you *can* do it. With practice comes familiarity. You'll soon grow used to it."

Dick smiled back.

It wasn't until after he worked with Batman's electron microscope for the first time, that Dick realized he could also see things unaided at the microscopic level. This was a revelation that surprised them both. Furthermore, he discovered that if he concentrated sufficiently, he could also see all the way to the sub-atomic level.

Seeing a whole new universe open up to him, Dick stared in wonder. Finally, snapping out of it, he looked up at Alfred, dazed by this totally unexpected and newfound ability.

"It's *beautiful*, Alfred! I wish I could show you, so *you* could see it, too."

"This wonderful gift will prove quite useful during your investigations, young sir," Alfred told him. "A large part of detective work is done in the forensics lab, as you will soon see. Master Bruce is probably the world's greatest detective, but even he can't see everything at a crime scene without his special equipment."

Dick nodded, slightly overwhelmed by his new discoveries.

As the week passed, Alfred continuously devised new exercises for Dick requiring that he use his vision powers both alone and in combination. The big test came last night, shortly before Bruce called. Dick was required to find a microdot that Alfred had hidden in the Gotham City museum that afternoon.

Dick had to use his telescopic vision to locate the museum, his X-ray vision to see through its impressive facade, and because it was after hours, through the gloom, as well. Finally, Dick was required to use his microscopic vision to locate the microdot.

The first two steps proved relatively easy. The last part was a bit more difficult. Dick was forced to concentrate on not only finding the microdot, but also to remain at a certain magnification, without inadvertently sliding into the sub-atomic level.

He sat cross-legged in the middle of the Batcave, chin in hand, his concentration absolute. He used a meticulous search pattern that Alfred had taught him. Basically, he divided the museum into quadrants. He searched each quadrant before he moved to the next. It was tediously slow going, but it proved effective.

After about an hour of searching, Dick finally found it. He grinned as he read Alfred's message out loud, "Congratulations, Master Dick. You have just won the dinner of your choice and one extra hour of television."

"Oh, boy!" Dick cried. "MacDonald's here we come!"

Alfred rolled his eyes in mock consternation...

****

Bruce signaled a left and turned into the self-storage driveway. Finding the manager's office he walked in. A bored young girl not yet twenty sat at the front desk. She was busy filing her fingernails and chattering on the phone. When Bruce walked in, she didn't bother to look up. A nameplate identified her as 'Betty Lou.'

"...And he *pinned* me!" she said dreamily, admiring a varsity pin on her sweater's lapel. "Oh, Mary Anne, I could've *died*!" She spun her chair, facing away from Bruce.

Bruce waited "patiently" for about fifteen seconds. Finally, he interrupted her.

"Excuse me," he said.

Betty Lou continued talking and filing her nails.

Bruce reached over to the phone base and pulled the jack out, disconnecting the line. Betty Lou looked up, eyes blazing.

"Hey!" she protested. Taking a good look at her unexpected customer, the rest of her sentence died in her throat. Instead, her expression immediately changed, to one of dreamy admiration. "Hey..." she said throatily.

"I *did* say, 'excuse me,'" Bruce said. She nodded vaguely, bringing her chin to her hand. "Can you help me?" he asked.

Staring up at him, entranced, Betty Lou nodded without offering help.

"Miss, uh, Betty Lou," Bruce said trying again. "I could use some help."

She nodded abstractedly once more, and then, doing a double take, she realized that she had a customer. "Oh--! Of course I can help you...I mean, *how* may I help you?"

Bruce gave her a half-smile. She seemed to melt before him. Bruce handed her the key he'd found in Dick's baby book.

"I wonder if you can tell me what storage bin this goes to?" he asked. She smiled vacuously up at him. "Miss? The key?"

Betty Lou's eyes snapped back to the present. Taking the key from his hands, she looked at closely. Finally, she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, mister," she said. "But this isn't one of our keys." She rummaged in her desk drawer and pulled out another key. The one she held out had a double serrated edge, while the one Bruce had brought in, only had a single edge.

"This is how our keys look," she explained.

Bruce studied it closely. He immediately recognized the make of the key. This type had only been on the market for about seven years.

"Miss, uh, I mean, Betty Lou," he began, "I wonder if there might be someone else here who could help me? It's possible that we rented this space way before your time."

She grimaced slightly, but nodded. "I'll get my mom," she said...

A few moments later, Bruce was in the back office with the manager who introduced herself as Betty Sue.

"We haven't used those keys for almost six years now," she said. "Let me look it up in our old books." Betty Sue led Bruce through a labyrinthine maze in the back.

"We went computerized about seven years ago," she said. "All of the old files were placed in storage. You're lucky, Mr. Wayne. You say that your cousin rented the space some nine years ago? We usually discard old records after ten years."

Betty Sue walked down an aisle, carefully checking a shelf filled with storage boxes. She leaned in close to one in particular and nodded, pulling it out.

"Here it is," she said, hefting the heavy box. The box was marked 'First Quarter,' nine years ago.

"Here, let me take that," Bruce offered. Betty Sue handed Bruce the box and they both made their way to a small break area with a table and chairs. Bruce placed the box on the table and Betty Sue began going through the files.

"Let's see...March...March nineteen, twenty...here we go!" Betty Sue sounded triumphant. She pulled out a manila folder labeled, March 21. "If the space was rented on the twenty-first, it would be here."

Betty Sue took out a pair of glasses and read through the file. "Ah-ha! Here we go. Grayson, John. Small storage bin. Monthly payments." She looked up. "According to this, John Grayson rented a small storage bin--it's about a five by five by six space--over nine years ago. He paid cash and signed a contract to make monthly payments. As far as this record goes, he paid on time." She paused and stood. "Come on. Let's check our computerized files."

She led Bruce to her office. As they crossed the reception area, Betty Sue rebuked her daughter. "Betty Lou, please get off the phone. This is a business office, not your bedroom." She didn't wait for an answer, but continued into her inner office.

Betty Lou grimaced and hung up reluctantly. She crossed her arms resentfully.

Betty Sue shook her head and smiled sourly. "Kids...carry 'em for nine months, nurse 'em, raise 'em, love 'em, and how do they pay you back? They become teenagers." Her eyes smiled merrily at her own quip.

"Do you have kids, Mr. Wayne?" she asked.

Bruce nodded. "Yes, one...a boy." Funny, less than a month ago the answer would've been 'no.' Now, he'd twice answered in the affirmative in a single day.

"A boy?" she said, enviously. "You're lucky. Less to worry about with a boy than a girl. Still..." she smiled. "You can't dress them in pink ribbons and bows when they're small."

Bruce's eyes lit in amusement while trying to imagine the heavily made up, bleached and blow-dried sullen teenager, who was currently slouching in the reception area, in pink ribbons.

After a few minutes of searching, Betty Sue was successful. "Here we go. Grayson, John. Small storage bin. Paid up till the end of the month." She looked up Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, we're pretty casual here and all but I need to see *something* that tells me you have the authority to get into John Grayson's bin...you know, kind of a formality."

Bruce nodded and pulled out a document authorizing him Power of Attorney over all of John and Mary Graysons personal effects.

Betty Sue took it, photocopied it, and placed it in Grayson's file.

"Will you be closing out his account today?" she asked.

"You say he paid up till the end of the month?" Bruce asked. She nodded. "I need to look at the contents first before I make my final decision."

"Of course," Betty Sue readily agreed. She reached into an expanding file and pulled a single sheet of paper. Bruce saw immediately that it was a map of the storage area. Betty Sue traced Grayson's bin number until she came to the appropriate place on the map. She marked it with orange highlighter and holding the paper out to Bruce gave him the necessary directions.

As Bruce turned to go, she stopped him. "Oh, wait!" she called. She pulled a small key from a key chain around her neck and walked up to a small metal box on the wall. When she opened the box, it revealed several rows of keys.

"Here!" she said, taking out one of the double serrated edged keys that Betty Lou had shown Bruce earlier.

"Almost forgot," she said, handing him the key. "Like I said earlier, we re- keyed the entire complex several years ago. We sent form letters to all of our long-distance clients informing them of the change and offering them the option of either sending them the key, or maintaining here in the office for them. Grayson never replied to the letter." She shrugged. "We've kept the key stored here as a result."

Bruce nodded his thanks and took the key from her. Stepping out into the biting Kansas air, he followed the map until he reached the one highlighted. Placing the key in the lock, he turned it. He heard the satisfying 'click' announcing that it had been successfully opened.

Bending down, he grabbed the garage-door style handle and pulled up. He expected it to be rusted after all of these years, but it opened easily and smoothly on well-maintained rollers.

Bruce looked inside the small enclosure, his eyes immediately going to the single object, almost shoulder high, kept on a pallet in the far corner. It was covered with a canvas tarpaulin. Walking up to it, he pulled the tarpaulin over to see what was underneath it.

Releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding, he raised a single eyebrow. The tarpaulin was covering a large wooden crate. Completely uncovering the crate, he reached inside into his hidden jacket pocket and pulled out a special utility knife.

Quickly going through its myriad tools, he found the one he needed. Carefully, he placed the small chisel at two corners and lifted, breaking the seal. Forcing the corners up a few inches, he then pressed a switch on the knife and it became a penlight.

Holding one of the corners up on the crate, Bruce brought the penlight up to the small crack and looked inside.

What he saw made him feel as if he'd just been punched in the stomach...

****

His eyes lighting with inner excitement, Dick ran down the long, upstairs hallway. Making sure that Alfred wasn't around, he hurriedly executed three handsprings, two back flips, and capped it off with an aerial somersault. Looking guiltily around, he edged towards the corner and looked down the stairs.

Still no sign of Alfred. Not waiting for the opportunity to pass him by, Dick easily mounted the banister on his stomach, and slid down, his arms straight out on either side of him.

Landing with a flourish, Dick raised his arms in a mock victory salute.

"I would say, young sir," Alfred said drolly from behind him--Dick spun around in shock--"That I'd give that an 'eight' for form, and perhaps a 'seven' for artistic interpretation."

"What?" Dick asked, floored.

"Master Bruce had a much better form at your age, I'm afraid," Alfred told him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'm afraid that you'll have to do much better than that if you're to ever become his partner."

Dick stood staring after Alfred. "Did he just give me permission to do it again?" he wondered. Grinning suddenly, he ran back up the stairs taking them two at a time. For the next half-hour, Dick slid down the banister only to run back up and do it once again.

Alfred stuck his head out of the kitchen door once to observe his newest charge's boyish exuberance. Smiling he left Dick to his fun.

As he turned back to the kitchen, he heard Dick cry out, "Woo-hoo! I'm *flying*!" in exultation...

****

Waving at Betty Lou and Betty Sue, Bruce returned to the main highway leading back to Smallville. He determined that he couldn't trust the contents to a shipping company and decided to drive it back himself.

Settling down for the long drive back to Gotham City, Bruce went over in his mind how he'd ever be able to explain this unexpected development to Dick.

Thinking of Dick, Bruce felt his insides twist. The boy already thought that he was some kind of freak. What would this do to him?

More specifically, how would Bruce be able to tell the already vulnerable boy what he suspected?

That Dick was an extra-terrestrial?

****

Chapter Seven

"But he's been waiting all day for your arrival, sir!" Alfred protested. "He has something very important to say to you! You *can't* disappoint him!"

"Alfred, what I'm bringing home is dynamite! I can't let the kid *see* this. Not yet, at least. Not until I can think of what to say to him."

Bruce's voice was as close to desperate as Alfred had ever heard. A cold feeling at the pit of his stomach began to spread through his being. What had the Master discovered? Giving himself a mental headshake, Alfred determined that no matter how essential, the information was secondary to Master Dick's emotional well- being. Steeling himself for what he was about say, Alfred spoke calmly.

"Then you shall have to think of something, Master Bruce." Alfred sounded coldly distant. "Because if you hurt this boy, add more pain to what he's already suffered, then--" He paused, his voice catching. "--Then you're not the Bruce Wayne that *I* raised."

"..." Bruce stared at the phone in his hand. He was calling from a rest stop about two hours east of Gotham. He'd stopped to ask Alfred to take Dick on an outing so that he'd be able to arrive and hide his cargo without the boy catching sight of it.

He swallowed, stunned at Alfred's words. The older man had *never* spoken to him in that tone of voice. Even as a child.

Bruce felt an irrational rage suddenly flare at Alfred's disloyalty. In the next instant, he felt completely deflated by his own behavior. He realized that he'd always taken Alfred's instant acquiescence to any of his requests as a given.

He took Alfred's unquestioning loyalty for granted.

Since he'd seen the spacecraft, Bruce had been running on adrenaline. During the middle of the night, he'd inspected it carefully, discovering a hidden mechanism that opened a small hatch. The interior seemed designed specifically as an incubator. Whoever the space traveler that had been carried within, he had been no larger than a common house cat--or a human baby.

Bruce rubbed his eyes feeling more tired than he had in a long time. He leaned back in the cramped space within the phone booth. Taking a grip on his emotions, he spoke.

"Alfred, I-I'm sorry. Tell Dick that I'll be home in a couple of--"

"--You may tell him yourself, sir," Alfred interrupted. "Master Dick just stepped into the kitchen. Here he is..."

"Bruce!" Dick spoke excitedly. "You'll *never* guess! Not in a million years! Not in a hundred million! Bruce, I jumped from the floor mat all the way to the trapeze swing! Can you *b'lieve* that? I reached the swings with a single leap!"

****

Dick walked into the Batcave, his excitement having reached new peaks. Bruce would be home in less than an hour. That was plenty of time to get in a training session.

He recalled the very beginning of his training. Had it really been less than a month? Bruce had started him with meditation techniques. At first Dick thought it silly to sit quietly, legs crossed, without moving, while attempting to empty his mind, but in the following days he found that he could concentrate and focus better.

Nevertheless, while the meditation was interesting and challenging, the athletics, in addition to being allowed to explore his unique gifts, were the fun part. Already a world-class aerialist, Dick took to the training as if born to it. It was soon obvious that in many respects he was the better acrobat and could even teach Bruce a thing or two about it.

Nevertheless, Bruce's analytical mind kept inventing new ways of challenging the junior crimefighter.

On the mat, Bruce's superior skills as a martial artist kept Dick on his toes. Understanding that Dick's acrobatics would work to the boy's advantage, Bruce decided to modify his training in order to make optimum use of his talents.

Before long, Dick was working out in the Special Ops room. This was a remarkable training room that Bruce had built to keep his own skills honed. And Alfred, a former British Intelligence operative, had had a hand it in its initial design. The kindly gentleman developed the training programs and virtual reality scenarios to challenge the Dark Knight, and now, the Knight's squire...

Dick stepped into the Special Ops room, and outwardly confident, walked to the center of the room. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

"Welcome to Special Ops," the pleasant, computerized female voice said. "This training session is set for Level One. At anytime during this exercise, should you wish to stop the program, recite the following code, Level One Stop Alpha."

"Level One Stop Alpha," Dick repeated in a whisper.

"Level One training session begins in five seconds."

Dick assumed a defensive position. That's when the laser bombardment began.

Instantly, Dick back flipped, rolled, leaped, and cart-wheeled out of harms' way. The lasers were non-lethal and registered a "kill" by special sound effects.

As the session continued, Dick somehow avoided being hit. He dodged, rolled, somersaulted, ran, and jumped--the list was endless. The bombardment came in a relentless barrage of single, double, and triple beams striking at random.

After a nonstop attack, the beams suddenly stopped. Crouching in a defensive stance, at the far corner of the training room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, Dick mentally assessed his performance.

So far, so good. He was still 'alive.' Concentrating on the job at hand, Dick had a sudden idea. At the same instant, the laser salvo resumed. Not stopping to think, Dick leaped straight up, somersaulting almost twenty feet in the air, and safe from the ground level bombardment.

About to cry out in triumph, he was hit center mass by a single beam.

"Awww-www...*no*!" Dick cried.

"This ends your Level One training session," the computer said pleasantly. "Better luck next time." The room's lights came on. He blinked in the sudden brightness.

"If this is Level One," he muttered ruefully, "I'd hate to see Level Two."

"Master Dick," Alfred's calm voice spoke over the intercom, "well done. You were only killed twenty times, severely wounded a mere fifty times, and slightly wounded seventy-five times. Not bad for a first go."

"But I was only hit once!" Dick protested.

The door to the control room slid open. "I removed the 'kill' response," Alfred explained. "I didn't want you to grow discouraged on your first outing with this infernal machine. Don't worry, young sir. Master Bruce was killed twenty-*one* times on his first outing."

Dick's eyes lit. "Really? Cool!"

A few minutes later, as he stepped out of the showers, Dick asked, "What I don't understand, Alfred, is how you knew that I'd try the jump?"

"Let's say that I *anticipated* it, young sir," Alfred explained. "You've discovered a new skill. It's only natural that you'd try to use it. However--"

"--However, combat is the *last* place where you should try new abilities for the first time," Bruce finished.

Dick spun around, and cutting through the gloom in the Batcave with his X-ray vision, spotted his guardian.

"Bruce!" he cried, running happily towards him. Bruce bent and easily lifted the small boy to him. The two hugged unselfconsciously. Alfred watched, warmed by the father/son relation that was so quickly being forged between his two charges.

"Now *that's* the Bruce Wayne *I* raised," he said to himself.

"Bruce, I've got so much to show you...to tell you!" Dick said hurriedly. Then looking wistful, he asked, "Are you home for good now?"

Holding Dick up to eye level, Bruce gave him a half-smile.

"Sure am, kid," he said. "I did what I had to do, and learned what I needed to know."

"Were those business executives tough customers?" Dick asked seriously.

"The toughest," Bruce replied. "But they didn't know who they were dealing with." He put Dick down and with his hand on the boy's shoulder, they started upstairs to the manor. "I learned how to handle ruthless customers from the very best."

"Who?" Dick asked, wide-eyed.

"Alfred. Everything I ever needed to know, I learned from him."

****

Bruce checked in on Dick. The boy mumbled in his sleep--"Dad?"--and then tossed restlessly. Bruce walked over and sat at Dick's bedside, waiting. After a few moments it appeared that Dick was again settled back asleep. Bruce glanced at the bedside alarm. It was past eleven.

Time for the Batman to hunt.

Pausing at the bedroom door, Bruce looked back once more. Dick was sleeping soundly. Satisfied, Bruce made his way to the Batcave.

Moments later, Batman emerged from the uniform vault and moved purposefully towards the waiting Batmobile...

****

Observing from the rooftop across the street from the Kane Savings and Loan, Batman shook his head dismissively.

"Amateurs," he muttered. He thought about waiting for the Boys in Blue to come and break it up, but decided against it. Someone could get hurt or even killed. No, better he just end it now.

Not bothering to fire off a jump line, Batman spread his cape and swooped down on the would-be burglars. One looked up and spotting him, screamed.

"It's the Bat!" he yelled and started running. A well-placed Batarang tripped him before he'd taken five steps.

"Shut up, Frankie," the other said. He was busy working the alarm system. "How many time do I gotta tell ya? There ain't no such thing...the Bat's just a fairytale, like the boogeyman..."

"That's good to know," a gravelly voice said from behind him. "And since the clock just struck midnight, I guess that explains why you're about to turn into a jailbird!"

The thief spun around, and screamed at the nightmarish figure of the Dark Knight. It was the last sound he made...

****

Dick tossed and turned in troubled sleep.

Images of a cold world lit by a giant red sun and a night sky brightened by three moons disturbed his dreams. He saw birds, the orange and red of open flames, zooming across the crimson sky. Their opposites--birds the color of midnight--flew beside them in tandem in a perennial aerial ballet. Opposites, yet companions, he knew.

He saw mountain ranges made of glittering diamonds whose shimmering splendor were forged by eons of seismic disruptions that he knew were even now tearing the planet's core.

Spectacular cities of dizzying towers and ethereal beauty gleamed in the weak light of the giant star.

Dick felt a deep yearning, almost a summons to go--where? He felt himself being drawn to this world of vermilion skies. This cold, dying world. The need grew in intensity and finally, unable to resist, he sat up and threw off his covers. Cocking his head as if listening, Dick climbed out of bed.

He stood in the middle of his room, eyes open, but unseeing. Finally, as if receiving instructions, he walked out of his room. He passed an open door in the upstairs hallway. A light inside revealed that its occupant was still awake, despite the lateness of the hour. Dick walked on without acknowledgement.

As he passed by, his small figure caught Alfred's attention.

"Master Dick, is there something you need?" Alfred asked from inside. When no answer was forthcoming, he jumped out of his reading chair and stepped into the hallway. He was just in time to see the boy turn the corner to the back staircase. "Master Dick!"

There was no response. Suddenly worried, Alfred dropped his book and ran after the boy. By the time he got to the steps, Dick was already headed towards the study. Taking the steps two at a time, the elderly man reached the bottom of the stairs in time to see Dick enter Bruce's study.

Following closely at the boy's heels, Alfred paused when he entered the room. Dick was standing, unmoving, in front of the secret panel that led to the Batcave. He was just staring.

"Master Dick?"

Again, there was no response from the boy. Alfred studied him for a few moments longer.

"Sleepwalking," he said to himself. Apparently whatever was causing the boy to walk in his sleep, he had to get into the Batcave to settle it. Alfred immediately walked to the grandfather clock and moved the hands to the appropriate positions.

The secret panel clicked open. Dick walked in, and wordlessly, Alfred followed...

****

The night was relatively quiet. In addition to the attempted break-in at the Savings and Loan, Batman stopped two attempted muggings, one car jacking, and three gang fights. About to call it a night, he caught the GCPD dispatcher calling an all points bulletin.

"All units in the vicinity of Robinson Park, officer down, officer needs help. Repeat. All units in the vicinity of Robinson Park..."

Incredibly, the Batmobile pulled a 180-degree turn, and turbos firing, roared in the direction of Gotham City's famous park...

****

Alfred worried about his youngest charge. The boy was barefoot and the floor of the Batcave was cold and uneven. Tamping his concerns, he followed behind from a safe distance.

Although asleep, Dick walked without breaking stride. Alfred was surprised when he walked through the main work area and continued down towards some of the darker more treacherous passages. Grabbing a flashlight that was lying in the open, Alfred brought it along, just in case.

After several minutes of walking, Dick came up to the lip of a deep chasm. Alfred had never seen this part of the cave before. Obviously, there were more caverns and side passages than he'd ever taken the time to explore. Standing next to Dick, Alfred risked a look down.

It seemed bottomless. Now what?

Before Alfred could react, Dick suddenly jumped...!

****

"What do you have?"

Gordon cringed at the gravelly voice. He'd *never* grow used to having Batman sneak up on him. Sighing, he answered without turning.

"Zucco."

"..."

Gordon felt a moment's satisfaction. He'd actually surprised the World's Greatest Detective. At the next instant, he felt a stab of guilt at his pettiness. Batman was a selfless friend who nightly risked his life for the people of Gotham. This wasn't a contest.

"An informant reported seeing him tonight in the 'Combat Zone.' He was trying to fence some hot merchandise from an earlier robbery." Gordon took a drag from his cigarette. He kept promising Barbara that he'd quit, but so far, he hadn't made a real effort.

"We sent out an 'APB' and about twenty minutes ago, we got a possible confirmation near Gotham Park."

"I heard that you had an officer down."

Gordon nodded. "One of our bicycle units. They reported a suspect that fit his description running through the park's underbrush and said they were in pursuit. Next thing we know, he's got the two officers pinned down. Apparently one's been hit pretty badly and is lying out in the open. His partner says that he can't reach her from his location. The SWAT team hasn't arrived yet, but as soon as it does, I'm deploying them."

"Give me ten minutes," Batman said. "It sounds like Zucco might be getting desperate." Without another word, he was gone...

****

"Master Dick!" Alfred yelled, stunned. He thought his heart would stop. Mouth open, he stared as Dick literally defied gravity by leaping across the wide chasm in a single bound.

The junior acrobat landed softly on the other side and without a backward glance, continued on his sleepwalk...

****

Batman moved stealthily, keeping to the shadows afforded by the numerous trees in the large commons. He'd vowed that he would capture Zucco for Dick's sake. AT the Falcone Estate, he'd been too preoccupied with protecting Dick, so that he never had a chance to confront the killer. This time he didn't have any personal distractions to keep him from their inevitable confrontation.

****

Using the flashlight, Alfred desperately searched for a way to the other side. He couldn't let the young master go on alone. Not in his present state!

The light beam fell on something he'd never seen before. A recess along the cave wall caught his eye. Something different on how the shadows fell. Investigating, he saw what at first looked like another cave tunnel, but then realized it was actually a hidden passageway to the other side.

Following the narrow flashlight beam, Alfred raced to catch up with Dick.

"What could be making him sleepwalk," he wondered out loud. Dick had been troubled with nightmares several times a week since his arrival at the manor. Understandable, as the boy had witnessed his parents' brutal and senseless murder before his eyes.

But he hadn't done any sleepwalking. Alfred had been hoping against hope that because of the growing bond between Bruce and Dick that perhaps the boy was on the road to healing. These actions tonight showed otherwise.

And what about that leap...?

****

Batman heard the sirens in the distance of the approaching SWAT van. He wasn't worried. It would take them a few minutes to unload and set up. And Gordon would give him the ten minutes he requested.

He hoped it would be enough.

The familiar staccato of automatic gunfire up ahead galvanized him. Arriving at the scene, he took in the situation at a glance. One of the bicycle patrol officers, a female, was down. She was bleeding profusely from multiple chest wounds and appeared unconscious.

Whoever was firing was laying a blanket of hot lead around the downed officer. It was impossible for anyone to reach her. As Batman skirted the open area, he heard the wounded officer's partner trying to negotiate with the gunman.

"Look! Things will go easier on you if you let me get to my partner. If she dies, then there's nobody and nothing that will be able to help you. You have nowhere to run! The SWAT team will be here in another few minutes. This is suicide! Give up before you injure or kill someone else, or you *yourself* are killed!"

The gunshots were coming from inside a public men's room. It was a small cinder block building with only one way in or out. Batman noted the ventilation windows running along the upper reaches of the wall. Climbing to the roof, he quickly made his way across it.

When he was just above the location from where he'd just seen the shots being fired, Batman leaned over, and taking three pellets from his utility belt tossed them inside.

"One thousand one...one thousand two...one thousand three."

At 'one thousand three' Batman burst into the men's room, shattering the windows. The pellets he'd tossed in had released a quick-acting tear gas that while non-lethal, could incapacitate. Batman's re-breather and night vision goggles allowed him to move easily through the gas screen.

He heard weak coughing at the far corner.

"St-stay away fr-from m-me," the weakened gunman whimpered. Batman kicked the Uzi submachine gun out of the mook's reach. "I-I'm g-gonna be s-sick." At his declaration, he turned and threw up helplessly on the floor. Batman cuffed him and tossed him outside.

Hurrying to where wounded officer lay, Batman stopped. Her partner was holding her to himself, rocking her gently, his closed in grief. She was gone. Batman checked her nametag. Evans. He'd never met her. Never spoken to her. Didn't know what her favorite color was.

All he knew was that she'd been killed by a kid who was no older than fourteen.

Batman whirled towards the boy who still lay cowering where Batman had unceremoniously tossed him. Batman grabbed the blubbering, whimpering kid by the lapels feeling a black rage take hold of him.

"Please, don't hurt me," the boy said. "Please..."

Batman blinked rapidly. What was he doing? He felt the storm within slowly subside. The saw that the boy was wearing the gang colors and insignia of one of the new teen gangs that had recently cropped up within Gotham's blighted inner city.

The kid wasn't Zucco. But in many ways, he was a worse problem...

****

Alfred saw the eerie glow up ahead. Frightened for Dick he hurried. Arriving at an open cavern, he paused at the entrance, awed by what he saw before him.

Dick was sitting cross-legged on the floor, gazing at the most exquisite, jewel- like object that Alfred had ever laid eyes on. It seemed to shimmer and glow with an inner pulse in a delightful multitude of rainbow colors.

The strange marvel held Dick enthralled. Alfred wasn't sure if he should put an end to whatever it was doing with Dick, when the object stopped glowing. At the same time, Dick fell back on the floor, asleep...

****

Chapter Eight

When the Batmobile finally pulled into its hangar, it was almost dawn. Batman had checked several of the leads and tips on Zucco's whereabouts, but none panned out. It was a solemn Bruce Wayne who stepped out of the showers and headed upstairs.

Officer Evans had been a single mom and left behind a four-year-old daughter.

Bruce felt exhausted. So much pain. So much hurt.

"Doesn't God care about us?" Dick's young voice echoed in his head. Bruce shook his head. The answer seemed farther out of his reach tonight than it had in a long time.

Thinking of Dick, Bruce stopped by his room to check on him before he went to bed. He found Alfred reclining on a straight chair pulled next to the bed, dozing fitfully. Walking up to him, Bruce gently laid his hand on the elderly butler's shoulder.

Startled, Alfred's eyes snapped open.

"Is something wrong?" Bruce whispered. Nodding Alfred stood, indicating that he wanted Bruce to follow him.

Outside in the hallway, he spoke in low tones and related Dick's sleepwalking episode. Finally, he arrived at the part where the boy sat mesmerized by the glowing object.

"Whatever is it, Master Bruce?" he asked. Bruce looked away before replying.

"Come on, Alfred," he said. "We need to talk." With that, he led them into the room where the two had shared so many discussions while he'd been growing up-- the kitchen.

****

Alfred stared at his employer and surrogate son. If Bruce had suddenly done a striptease and started dancing on the kitchen table, Alfred wouldn't have been more stunned.

"An extra-terrestrial?" he spluttered. "Master Dick? But surely, sir, that's preposterous!"

Bruce took a sip of his coffee. When he looked up, Alfred could see the tired lines around his eyes. Lately, he'd been looking much older than his twenty- seven years. Bruce shrugged.

"There are no absolutes in this world Alfred." He smiled briefly. "*You* taught me that."

Alfred returned the smile warmly.

Shaking his head, Bruce continued.

"I wish that there were some other explanation, but fantastic as it seems, this is the only one that makes sense at the moment. Dick's amazing gifts aren't the result of some kind of mutation. These are abilities that are slowly being manifested in him. The older he gets, the more these--powers--seem to be growing."

"Yes, and practice seems to bring new discoveries." Alfred explained Dick's own surprised discovery of his 'microscopic vision.'

"Exactly," Bruce agreed. "And this 'gravity-defying' power. We don't really know what this capability entails. Remember that if you or I were to go the moon, the lesser gravity there could allow us to suddenly make incredible leaps as well."

"True," Alfred acknowledged.

"So, for the sake of argument," Bruce said, "let's assume that Dick came from a planet whose gravity is much greater than Earth's."

"Then why wouldn't he have shown this ability before? Surely, he or his parents would've made note of it."

"I'm not sure, Alfred," Bruce admitted. "However, because the Graysons were afraid that should someone find out about Dick they could lose him, they basically forbade him from exploring his powers. Dick loved his parents and didn't want to cause them undue pain. Therefore--"

"--Therefore, he honored their wishes. Yet--"

"--Yet, there were probably times when the gifts manifested themselves by accident," Bruce added. "I would wager that if and when this happened, Dick probably experienced deep feelings of guilt at his perceived 'disobedience,' and maybe--"

"--And maybe these feelings of guilt began to work as an unconscious suppression of any new powers that were developing within him."

Bruce looked at Alfred with open admiration.

"Exactly. Therefore, now that we're allowing Dick to openly explore his gifts, so-called 'new' abilities are suddenly appearing. I would guess that he's had these powers all along, but as you say, he suppressed them."

"Then, Master Bruce," Alfred said seriously, "I would also say that the next few months or so are going to be very interesting, indeed." He stood and made his way around to the kitchen area and began taking out the necessary materials for breakfast.

"And I'll have to agree with you," Bruce said, nodding. He took another sip from his coffee and stared pensively at nothing in particular. "He really is a great kid, isn't he?"

"Yes, Master Bruce. He most certainly is that."

Bruce produced a sheaf of papers and handed them to Alfred. Alfred took them and began reading them. Raising a single eyebrow, he handed them back.

"Are you sure, sir?" he asked.

Bruce nodded. "If *Dick* agrees to it. Child Protection Services may take him away from us otherwise."

Alfred gasped. "Surely *not*, sir!"

Bruce glanced down at the papers, and smiling sadly nodded. "I'm afraid so. Maybe it's too soon to ask him. He loves his parents. And misses them terribly. I don't want to--"

Bruce was interrupted at this moment, when the object of the conversation walked into the kitchen. Rather than a 'strange visitor from another planet,' what entered was a slightly bedraggled-looking, sleepy nine-year-old boy.

Bruce noted the pale cheeks and dark circles under the boy's usually bright blue eyes. Glancing worriedly at Alfred, he addressed Dick.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Glad you could join us."

Dick rubbed his tired eyes and walked up to Bruce. Unselfconsciously, Dick put his arms around Bruce's neck and his head on his shoulder. "My head hurts," he said in a small voice.

"C'mere," Bruce said, picking up the boy and placing him on his lap. "Alfred will take care of that in no time. I think he *invented* headache medicine."

Dick nodded tiredly and snuggled in Bruce's strong arms, his eyes closed. Alfred seemed to conjure two children's aspirins out of thin air. He carefully placed one on Dick's open palm.

"This one first, Master Dick," he said. "Be sure to chew it completely and swallow carefully."

Dick complied by placing it in his mouth and chewing the small tablet until there was nothing left of it. He swallowed as instructed. Alfred handed him the second tablet and Dick repeated the action. Smiling kindly, Alfred then handed the boy a glass of water.

"Now wash it down, young sir."

Taking a drink, Dick again did as told.

"It will take a few minutes before the aspirins take effect, Master Dick. Would you care to return to your room until you're feeling better?"

Dick shook his head. Bruce gave Alfred a half-smile over Dick's head. Leaning down, he spoke to his young ward.

"Would you care for anything? Orange juice maybe?"

Dick nodded. Alfred instantly placed a small glass of orange juice before them. Blinking sleepily, Dick sat up in Bruce's lap and rubbed his eyes.

The morning sun appeared on the horizon. Slowly, its brilliance crept across the white, wintry landscape, chasing away the last of the night. Nature's vista was lost to the occupants of Wayne Manor as her sunlight was caught by glistening icicles softly stirring in the morning breeze and refracted into thousands of miniscule rainbows.

At last, the sun's first rays streamed in through the wide bow windows in the kitchen's breakfast nook, and a bright sunbeam illumined Bruce and Dick. It was going to be a clear, crisp day.

Alfred watched them from his vantage point behind the kitchen island's countertop. Their identical dark heads, haloed by the early morning rays, were almost touching as Bruce leaned forward and picked up the glass of orange juice, handing it to Dick.

Dick took the glass and drank up its contents. The sun's rays backlighting Dick's raven head, Alfred noted that the boy looked much improved. His pale cheeks were now filled with rosy color, and the circles under his eyes were gone. Dick smiled brightly at both Bruce and Alfred.

"Thanks, Alfred," he said. "The headache's gone now. I feel much better." Alfred and Bruce exchanged startled looks. The children's aspirin couldn't have taken effect *this* quickly. Without pausing, Dick added, "I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?"

****

Bruce sat, chin in hand, staring at Dick's bottomless appetite for Alfred's pancakes.

"You keep eating like that," he said, "I may have to start going into work more often. At this rate, I don't think my net worth will be able to support that appetite of yours."

His mouth full, Dick's eyes laughed. Swallowing, he giggled. "You're funny."

"I think I'll call Lucius today and tell him to set up a special trust fund. We'll call it the 'Keep Dick in Pancakes, Milk, and Cookies' Monetary Fund. What do you think, Alfred?"

Alfred nodded thoughtfully and brought his hand up to his chin. He looked as if he were considering the seriousness of the matter.

"You might consider the wisdom of including chocolate chips," Alfred mused. "Or might I venture, anything chocolate?"

Bruce nodded. "You're right. Think we should buy out Hershey's?" Before Alfred could reply, Bruce turned to Dick. "What do you say, partner? Think Wayne Enterprises needs to go into the chocolate industry?"

"You're both silly," Dick declared, laughing. Growing serious, he turned to Bruce. "Have you ever seen a firebird?"

"A Firebird?" Bruce asked. "Sure. I wanted one when I first got my driver's license, but Alfred insisted young gentlemen who had a perfectly good chauffeur didn't need a muscle car."

"As I recall, sir," Alfred said, "I said that young gentlemen didn't drive crass motorcars that were little more than, as you eloquently put it, 'chick magnets.'"

Dick looked slightly confused and shook his head.

"I don't mean a car. I'm talking about a bird--like fire. You know, all reddish and orange-y and yellowish--a firebird. Or...um, a Flamebird. That's it. That's what it's called, a Flamebird! Have you ever seen one?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, Dick, I can't seem to recall ever seeing one. Do you know its native habitat? Where one could be found?"

"Sounds rather exotic, sir," Alfred said. "Perhaps in the Amazon rain forest?"

Dick shook his head. "No, not there. It lived in a really *cold* place. It was surrounded by glaciers, everything was frozen."

"Tell me more about this place, Dick," Bruce said quietly. "It sounds interesting."

Dick thought momentarily. His eyes taking on a faraway look, and he began to recite.

"The Flamebird lives in a very cold place with a red sky. It's always following a black and blue bird--the Nightwing. I think they're friends, 'cause they're always together. And you can see mountains made of diamonds and cities with buildings taller than anything here."

"Mountains made of diamonds," Bruce murmured. "That's something I'd like to see. Anything else?"

Dick nodded thoughtfully. "It has a red sun and three moons..." Dick looked confused. "Is this from a story? I don't understand. Three moons--?"

"Could it be from a dream?" Bruce asked casually. He glanced quickly over at Alfred. Alfred raised a single eyebrow and nodded slightly.

Dick shook his head and then shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I can't remember."

Bruce gave him a half-smile. "Whatever a 'Flamebird' is, Dick--real or imaginary--I'm sure that it'll come to you in good time. Look, have you finally finished eating us out of house and home?"

Dick grinned, nodding.

"Good! What do you say to an early morning workout down in the Cave? You can show me these new abilities of yours. I can't remember the *last* time I saw someone leap all the way up to the trapeze swings in a single bound...!"

****

Bruce sat in his study, leaning back on his desk chair, thoughtfully staring out the wide French doors. He could see Dick laughing happily outside. He and Alfred were building a snowman in the fresh-fallen snow.

At one point, Alfred leaned down to pack some more snow onto the base of the snowman. Dick suddenly threw a snowball at the unsuspecting butler. Bruce smiled to himself as he heard Alfred cry out in surprise.

Soon, the elderly gentleman and young boy were having a one-on-one battle. Dick's acrobatics kept him from being hit too often; however, Alfred had closely observed Dick's fighting tactics in the simulator, therefore he was able to anticipate several of the boy's moves.

As Bruce watched, his half-smile disappeared. What was he going to do? How was he going to broach the subject to Dick, not just about being an extra- terrestrial, but about Bruce's wish to adopt him? At first, Bruce wanted to adopt the boy because of his growing fondness for him, and also as a stopgap to keep Child Welfare Services from ever taking Dick away from him.

But now? If Dick *were* an extra-terrestrial, then it became imperative that *no one* else ever be allowed to get their hands on him. Dick's unusual abilities were proving to be formidable.

Bruce thought about the possibility of unscrupulous people ever gaining control of the boy. Imagine what his X-ray vision could do in the wrong hands. Or any of his vision powers for that matter. As well as this 'flying' ability of his.

Bruce thought back to Dick's proud demonstration of his 'jumping' ability. He'd known instantly that Dick was capable of much more than just jumping...

****

Bruce watched, his expression carefully neutral as Dick *leaped* from floor to cave ceiling in a single hop. On the outside, he appeared calm, almost clinical. On the inside, his guts were churning.

"The kid's *flying*!" he said to himself. No, not possible, he denied. Okay, then, smart guy, he continued. How about a test? Come on. Let's put that sharp intellect of yours to work. *Prove* to yourself that the kid's *not* flying!

"Okay," he murmured. "I'll *prove* it!"

Dick was smiling and waving from the trapeze swing where he'd settled on the 'down turn.'

"Dick, I have a few exercises that I want you to try, but it's going to take a while to set them up. Why don't go upstairs with Alfred and begin your morning lessons? When I'm ready, I'll get you."

Dick nodded. "Okay, Bruce," he said. Then, standing on the trapeze swing, he called out, "Look!"

Bruce felt a warning cry catch in his throat. Dick executed a series of back somersaults off the trapeze and slowly *floated* back to the floor.

His heart hammering, Bruce didn't know whether to applaud or chew the boy out. He opted for a butt chewing.

"Dick! Did you *know* that you could do that?" he asked sharply.

Eyes wide, Dick shook his head, 'no.' Bruce was about to lambaste into the boy, when he saw the tears threatening to spill. Relenting quickly, Bruce placed his hand on Dick's shoulder. After all, *he* was the one who'd encouraged the boy to spread his wings.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Dick," Bruce apologized. "It's just that this new ability of yours is still a bit of an unknown. We don't really know the top and bottom limits. If something happened to you, I don't think I could forgive myself."

Two huge tears streamed suddenly down Dick's cheeks. His small chin quivered slightly, and then jutted out bravely.

"I-I'm sorry, Bruce. It's just that-that, well, I just wanted to show you. I hadn't done it before, but I just *knew* that I could. I guess I got excited. It was a stupid thing to do. Dad always said we shouldn't try new stunts without a net 'cause we never know what can happen."

Head down, Dick shrugged despondently.

Placing his finger under Dick's chin, Bruce raised it. Man and boy held each other's eyes steadily.

"Hey, none of that," Bruce said quietly, gently wiping Dick's wet cheeks. "We're partners, remember? My job is to watch out for you. And you have to watch out for me. That's what partners do. We take care of each other. I shouldn't have yelled at you. That was wrong. Just like I shouldn't have allowed you to jump up in the first place without a net." Bruce shook his head, giving Dick a small half-grin.

"I guess that we were both wrong. Next time, we'll do better. I promise."

Dick nodded, his eyes smiling up at his guardian. "I promise, too, Bruce..."

****

That had been a few hours ago. As Bruce sat and watched Alfred and Dick roll around in the snow, wrestling and laughing helplessly--each trying to put snow down the other's parka--Bruce again went back in his mind's eye.

****

"Ready, partner?" Bruce smiled inwardly as Dick's head whirled around, his eyes eager with anticipation.

"You *bet*!" he cried, throwing his pencil on the desk.

Bruce held his hand out in a stop motion.

"Uh-uh!" he said. "Nothing doing. Not until you finish whatever homework Alfred gave you. He told me that you have quite a bit to do."

Dick sat back down glumly. "Aw, geez!" he groaned.

"As soon as you're done," Bruce said, from the doorway, "show Alfred your work. When he gives the go-ahead, then we'll continue in the Cave."

"'Kay," Dick said reluctantly.

****

About a half hour later, Bruce heard Dick bounding down the steps leading from the Manor.

"Bruce!" he called. "I'm finished! Alfred said so!"

"That's great, kid," Bruce answered. He was near the ceiling on one of the numerous catwalks that were strategically placed through out the Batcave. He had several surveillance devices set up there as well as other pieces of instrumentation, which were going to be used while he tested Dick's flying powers.

When Bruce was at floor level with Dick, he and the boy returned to the practice mat. Dick noticed several new apparatuses, some of whose functions he could only guess at.

"Take a seat," Bruce instructed. Dick did as ordered. Bruce joined him, cross- legged. Dick followed suit, crossing his legs. "We're going to begin with a few meditation exercises," Bruce said.

Dick groaned, slapping his forehead. Bruce quirked a single eyebrow and waited patiently. Dick eventually looked up, and seeing Bruce's grim expression, swallowed and sat up straight.

"Let's begin with the first level..." Bruce intoned softly. When he was certain that Dick had achieved the necessary level of receptiveness, Bruce began his quiet instructions.

"Dick, I want you to visualize a bright, sunny, blue sky with white fluffy clouds..."

Dick's young face was completely relaxed and trusting. He smiled, eyes closed as he saw what Bruce suggested.

"Dick, you want to be a part of those clouds, but you're stuck here on the ground. That makes you feel very sad..."

Dick's face scrunched up a bit, hit by the enormity of never being able to break the bonds that tied him to the Earth.

"But Dick, you're a special boy. Maybe the most special boy in the whole world. You *want* to be part of those clouds, Dick. But more importantly, you *know* that you can *be* part of those clouds..."

Dick nodded fervently.

"Dick, the clouds are so close to you. They're only three feet off the ground." Dick looked around eagerly, and tentatively reached his hand out to touch the nearby clouds.

"And the ground around you is hard and rocky. It's uncomfortable." Dick's expression turned unhappy, again. He moved around as if he were sitting on a rocky surface.

"Dick, you're sleepy." [Dick yawned, sleepily.] "And the clouds look so soft." [Dick looked yearningly in the direction of where Bruce assumed he saw the clouds.] "You want to lie down on them, don't you?" [Dick nodded, sleepily.] "What can you do, Dick?" [Dick shook his head, pouting.]

"I'm tired," he whimpered.

"Son, you can go to sleep as soon as you lie down," Bruce promised. "Look at the clouds. Dick I want you let go of the Earth. Let go of your restraints. Float up to the clouds and lie down, son. Let go, Dick...float up to the clouds."

Dick shook his head, confused. "I can't...I promised, I wouldn't. I promised..."

"Son, I know you gave your word. But your Mom and Dad would approve of this."

Dick looked confused. "But they said not to."

"I know that's what they said, Dick. But things are different now. You need to know what you can do. It's for your own good. And your Mom and Dad only wanted what was best for you."

Dick shook his head emphatically. "No! They made me promise. They wouldn't want me to!"

"Dick, I promise you, son. I would never make you do anything that your parents wouldn't have approved of. I *know* that they'd want you to know how to do this."

"How do you know?" Dick asked suspiciously.

"Because I know that they loved you. And they only wanted the best for you."

"How do you know *that*?" Dick asked uncertainly.

"Because..." Bruce paused, his throat catching. "Because, *I* love you, son. And I only want what's best for you." He had to struggle to get the words out before his natural reticence prevented him from openly admitting his feelings.

Dick's suspicious expression relaxed and was replaced by his natural openness and trust.

Then, before anything more could be said, and still sitting cross-legged, Dick began floating. At about three feet from the ground, he stopped his upward ascent, and just hovered in place. Yawning widely, Dick lay down and went to sleep--three feet above the floor of the Batcave...

****

The rest of the test was almost a denouement. Once Bruce woke Dick up, he had him 'turn' his power on and off.

Once Dick's fears of disappointing his parents had been removed, he was able to float at will; he no longer had to mask his flying ability as merely "jumping." He could move vertically and horizontally. He could ascend and descend at any angle that Bruce asked him to try.

Bruce had Dick fly through several hoops he'd set up at different heights and angles around the Batcave, first slowly to get a feel for the course, and then faster. As Dick's speed increased, Bruce noted that the boy hadn't yet begun to tap his speed potential...

****

Watching as Dick and Alfred, finally exhausted from their afternoon activities, began returning to the manor through the kitchen entrance, still laughing and trying to sneak snow down one another's parkas, Bruce decided that an outdoor test would be necessary.

"Probably night time," he murmured. He sighed. Alfred said that the next few months were going to prove interesting. "More like the next few days," Bruce amended.

****

Chapter Nine

Bruce parked the convertible Porsche on the high bluffs overlooking Gotham City. The locals knew this area as "Lovers' Leap." Legend had it that years ago a young couple, whose families' on-going feud prevented them from ever getting married, ended their lives by leaping together to their deaths on the jagged rocks below.

But Bruce wasn't thinking about star-crossed lovers at the moment. To him this area simply offered the best lighting possible for his purposes.

Although the temperature outside was in the low twenties, he lowered the convertible top. The night sky, like the day, was clear, the air crisp and cold. He kept the motor running, the heater on. Turning to Dick, he smiled down at the shivering boy.

"I promise it won't take long, son," he said. "Here." He pulled a small woolen blanket that he'd asked Alfred to put in the car.

"Thanks," Dick said, taking it gratefully. Even though he was dressed in his heaviest and warmest overcoat, he was still cold. Finally settling down, he looked around. He admired how the lights of Gotham City twinkled in the distance. He'd never known the city was so large.

Somewhere inside himself, however, he knew that he'd seen one larger. And more beautiful. Cleaner. And colder. He felt a momentary stab and yearning for that place.

"The city lights look like stars twinkling," he murmured.

"Yes, they do," Bruce agreed. "But it isn't because of the city that I brought us up here."

Dick turned to him, curious. Seeing Dick's gaze on him, Bruce turned away, suddenly nervous.

How to continue?

Taking a deep breath, Bruce tentatively began. "I brought us up here so that we could talk in private. Just you'n me."

"Not Alfred?" Dick asked, hurt that their faithful friend was excluded.

"Not this time, son," Bruce began, and then seeing Dick's protest begin to form, hurriedly added, "but soon. I promise. Everything we discuss, we'll tell him. Is that fair?"

Reluctantly, Dick nodded.

"Good," Bruce sighed. "Come on, I've got something to show you." Pressing the automatic trunk opener, Bruce got out of the car, with Dick close behind. Bruce quickly unloaded the contents of the trunk and began setting it up on level ground.

"A telescope?" Dick asked.

Bruce nodded. "I wanted to be able to test some of your vision powers unencumbered by the limitations of the Batcave. Furthermore, I wanted you to be able to see for yourself what certain magnifications are. If you can see the star at say the greatest magnification that this small telescope can offer, then I can have you try to increase your own magnification accordingly."

As Bruce finished setting up the telescope, he added under his breath, "I hope."

"Okay, Dick, first off, we're going to look up at the stars without any kind of aid. Just the naked eye...and *no* telescopic vision!" he added.

Dick grinned good-naturedly and nodded in agreement.

Bruce brought out a detailed map of the North American December night sky. To Dick's delight, the map glowed in the dark. Pointing out the marker star he wanted Dick to focus on, Bruce made sure that Dick felt comfortable with the star's neighbors.

Within seconds, they were both searching the night sky. Bruce found it right away, but didn't say anything, preferring Dick to make his own discoveries.

"There it is, Bruce!" he cried. "I *see* it!"

"Terrific, Dick," Bruce said, kneeling next to the boy. "Show me where."

Proudly, Dick immediately complied. "Great job, kid," Bruce said admiringly. "Okay, now for phase two." Bruce reached inside his jacket and took out a pair of binoculars.

"Keep your eyes on the star, Dick. Don't lose it. Now try it with these. They're already focused to your unaided vision."

Dick nodded, and not taking his eyes off the star, he carefully brought the binoculars up to his eyes. Suddenly, he could see the star even clearer. Plus, he was able to see some fainter pinpricks of light that he hadn't been able to see with the naked eye.

He reported this excitedly to Bruce.

"...And there's a couple of other stars real close to it that I couldn't see before!"

"Very good, Dick," Bruce said. "You're doing very well." Taking Dick by the shoulder, he led him to the telescope. "All right, you've seen the star with the naked eye and with the binoculars. Now, let's see what a top of the line backyard telescope can reveal."

Bruce pulled up a small step stool so that Dick would be able to see easily.

"The telescope is focused on the same star. Take a look."

Dick looked up disappointedly. "But it looks the same as if I didn't have anything."

"I know," Bruce said moving in and adjusting the magnification. "I wanted you to see again how the star looks without any optic aids." Dick nodded in understanding. "Now, I've doubled the magnification of the binoculars. Tell me what you see."

"Whoa!" Dick whispered. "I can see the pinpricks of light a lot clearer now!"

"All right, now let me double the magnification again," Bruce said. "Take a look."

Again, Dick reported a much clearer view. Bruce repeated the steps until they reached the telescope's maximum magnification.

"This is really cool, Bruce," Dick said. He'd completely forgotten that he'd been cold earlier. "Can we do it again tomorrow night?"

Bruce smiled and ruffled the boy's hair.

"We're not done yet. Or, should I say, *you're* not done yet."

Dick looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"I want you to picture in your mind the greatest magnification that you saw through the telescope."

Dick nodded.

"Now I want you to turn your telescopic vision on the same star, and see if you can magnify your vision to the same level as the telescope."

Dick's eyes widened, but he looked up eagerly.

"Oh wow..." he whispered. Bruce smiled inwardly. Apparently, this was working.

"Dick, do you remember how when I doubled the magnification, you could see things just that much clearer?" Dick nodded. "I want you double your current magnification."

Dick nodded, staring up as if mesmerized.

"Got it?" Bruce asked. Dick nodded. "Good. Dick, for the final test, I want to zoom in as close as you can to the same star, and see if you can spot any planets revolving around it."

Dick frowned in concentration. This was going to be farther than he had *ever* attempted to see. Focusing on the job at hand, he pictured the star and its placement in the heavens, and suddenly he was *there*.

It felt as if his eyes automatically put heat shields over themselves--a special type of sun block. He could clearly see the star burning in its infinite nuclear furnace, solar flares shooting out to what he instinctively knew were billions of miles.

In a small voice he tried to describe what he saw, but couldn't find adequate words.

"Whoa..." he whispered, awed beyond the ability to articulate what he felt.

"Do you see any planets, chum?" Bruce asked.

Realizing that he hadn't even looked, Dick began a systematic search of the nearby star system. Like Alfred had shown him earlier in his museum search, he divided the system into quadrants. Finally, his vision alighted on an object that was reflecting the star's light.

Zooming in, he cried out in triumph.

"I *see* one, Bruce!" he said, laughing delightedly. "It's all purple and orange-y with fluffy, pinkish clouds!"

Bruce remained outwardly calm. "I want you to use your X-ray vision and see if you can pierce the cloud cover. Can you describe the surface?"

Dick concentrated again. Using his powers in concert was still new enough that he had to take extra time to get them both working together. Finally, he began to zoom in through the atmosphere.

As his vision cut through, he was shocked by the violent storms that were buffeting across the alien sky. It seemed a very inhospitable place. Moving closer to the surface, he saw that it was rocked by massive volcanic action, clouds of noxious gases spewing upward several thousand miles into the planet's atmosphere.

"It's a real scary place, Bruce," he said, describing what he saw. "Can I leave now?"

"Of course, Dick," Bruce said reassuringly. "Do you think you're up to finding another planet? If not, we can go home now."

"I can try," Dick said gamely. Searching again for several minutes, Dick at long last found a second planet, currently revolving on the far side of the star. He'd had to pierce through the massive star in order to see the other side.

"I see one," he reported quietly. "It's prettier than the other one, blue and white."

Bruce stood still. This could be it.

"I'll take a closer look," Dick said. Cutting through the planet's atmosphere, Dick soon saw a great difference between this new planet and its sister. The atmosphere was much more temperate, with light winds and soft fluffy clouds. As he zoomed in he reported what he saw.

"I see oceans," he said, "and little bits of land, like islands."

"Can you see anything else?"

Dick nodded excitedly. "Bruce! I see a bird! It's flying across the island. Let me get closer."

As Dick zoomed in even closer, his excitement grew. Finally, he jumped up, unable to contain himself.

"Bruce! I see a house! No, more like a hut...or a teepee! Bruce! *People* live here! There's *people* living on the planet!"

"Have you seen one," Bruce asked. Dick shook his head, but he still couldn't remain still.

"No, but--" he began, then stopped. "Wait! There's one! Bruce, it's a human, like you'n me. He's not different or anything."

"Can you describe him?"

Dick nodded. "He looks like a guy in the movies." He shrugged. "You know. With a grass skirt and beads around his neck. Wait--!" Dick saw a little girl come running out of the hut, followed shortly by a woman. The little girl ran around the man. She seemed to be laughing as she ran. The woman looked slightly put out, but the man was guffawing openly. Dick described what he saw, laughing at the antics of the little girl and her mother's obvious frustration.

"Okay, chum," Bruce said quietly. "I think that that's enough for now. It's time to come back down to Earth again."

Dick nodded, blinked, closed his eyes, blinked again, and then looked up at Bruce.

"I never knew that there was life on other planets, Bruce," he said awed. "Dad told me once that he believed that there was life on other planets, but Mom told him that it was silly and not to say such silly things in front of me again. Dad never did."

He shook his head, confused by yet another mysterious, out-of-character behavior from his parents.

Bruce and Dick broke down the telescope and re-stowed it in the trunk of the car. Before they climbed inside for the ride back home, they stood by the driver's side and once more gazed up at the sky.

"Do you *really* not know why your mother said what she said?" Bruce asked.

Dick shook his head. "No, sir, I don't."

"Do you have any idea why your Mom and Dad didn't want you to use your powers openly?"

"Sure, they didn't want anyone to come and take me to the loony bin," he said readily.

"Is that the only reason you can think of?" Bruce asked. By now his eyes were boring into Dick's.

Dick began to nod 'yes' and then changed it to 'no.'

"The powers I have are weird. Different. They put 'different' people in carnival sideshows or in the hospitals or jail. They didn't want me to be hurt or taken away."

Bruce knelt down in front of Dick.

"Dick, that's only partially true. You're right. Your parents did not want you to be taken from them. They loved you more than anything in the world. But there's something they never told you. And I'm afraid that's it time that you learned the truth, the whole truth...and nothing but."

Bruce stood up, and gently placing his hand on Dick's shoulder, he drew the boy into him. As Dick automatically put his arm around his guardian's waist, Bruce began to talk.

As the story unfolded, Dick felt hot tears of denial spring forward. His small fists pummeled Bruce's waist, his broken-hearted sobs tore at his guardian. Finally, Bruce bent and picked the boy up, allowing him to come to terms with the truth in his own good time.

At last, Dick's sobs stopped, and sniffing he looked up at Bruce.

"Am I a monster, Bruce? Like in _The Invasion of the Body Snatchers_? Is that why Mom and Dad were ashamed of me? Am I gonna grow up and eat people?"

"With *your* appetite?" Bruce asked. "Who can tell?"

Dick blinked at him, and then broke into a grin. "You're teasing me again," he said.

"Remember the people you saw tonight?" Bruce asked seriously. "The family on the other planet?"

Dick nodded.

"They didn't seem like monsters, did they?"

Dick shook his head.

"They were just people, even though they were on another planet, right?"

Dick nodded reluctantly.

"Dick, I don't care how many powers you have. You're still just a little boy in my eyes. Your parents didn't know what to do about your powers, but rightly or wrongly, their only concern was to protect you. That's why they didn't want anyone to find out about you. They were never ashamed of you. They were scared, like *I* am, that if anyone else ever found out about you, you'd be taken away."

Dick's eyes widened in fear. Bruce sat him on the hood of the car, and ran his hand lightly across the boy's hair.

"Dick, I know it's too early for you to think about this, but it's something that I *have* to ask you. Would you be willing to let me adopt you, fully and legally, so that *no one*...*no one* would *ever* be able to take you away from me?"

Where Dick's eyes had been wide with fear before, they were now wide with shock.

"Adopt me?" he said in a small voice. Swallowing, Bruce nodded. "W-Would you be my new Dad? For always?" Again, Bruce nodded. Dick looked away momentarily, overcome by the unexpected request.

Bruce felt a huge hole in the pit of his stomach. He'd hardly considered that it would be possible that the boy wouldn't want him. Bruce finally admitted to himself that he'd grown to love the boy as his own in the short time they'd had together. But if Dick didn't want him, there was no way he'd force him into agreeing to--

"Yes."

Bruce stopped his ruminations. What had Dick just said? He turned to the boy.

"What did you say?"

Dick nodded. "That I really, really want you to be my new dad."

Bruce smiled. Not his usual half-smile, which more often than not seemed to be filled with his own unspoken pain. But an honest, open smile. One filled with true warmth and genuine emotion.

Feeling his own eyes suddenly fill, Bruce picked Dick up again and just held him. Putting him down, he finally spoke.

"Let's go home, son."

****

Chapter Ten

The next few months whirled by at a dizzying pace. Family Court granted Bruce not just full custody and legal guardianship of Dick, they approved his request for adoption.

Richard John Grayson Wayne walked out proudly from the courthouse flanked by Alfred on one side, and his new father on the other. Dick and Bruce had had a private father/son talk the previous night about the impending adoption. Bruce noticed that something was bothering the boy...

****

"Dick, what is it?" Bruce asked, looking up from the papers he was working on. Dick had walked into the study and sat down quietly on one of the reading chairs by the bookshelf. "Is something troubling you?"

Dick shook his head at first, but then nodded.

"Am I supposed to call you 'Dad' after tomorrow?" he asked. "It's not that I don't want to, honest, it's just that-that--"

"That there's only one man whom you'll ever be able to call by that name," Bruce finished quietly.

Dick looked mortified at Bruce.

Bruce walked over to where Dick was sitting and perched next to him on the chair's arm.

"Hey, it's okay, partner," he said. "I mean, look at me and Alfred. He's raised me since my parents died. He's been both mother and father to me, and best friend, and--"

"Cook and driver!" Dick piped in.

Bruce smiled slightly. "Yes, but so much more than cook and driver. Alfred loves me," Bruce said. "And you know what?"

Dick nodded solemnly. "You love him," he said simply.

"That's right. 'Sfunny...we've rarely used the 'L' word here while I was growing up, but now, in the short period of time that you've come to live with us, I seem to be saying it all the time." His eyes softened as he looked at Dick.

"It's not that there hasn't been any love here while I was growing up, it's just that--well--" Bruce shrugged, helplessly. "I don't know why. You'll have to help us here, son. Between the three of us, maybe we can try to keep the word from falling into any further disuse."

"I'll do my best," Dick said seriously. "Before we went up on the trapeze prior to a performance, Mom and Dad always said 'I love you' because we never knew if it could be our last--" he stopped, unable to continue.

Bruce brought him in close.

"You're a great kid, Dick. And I'm very proud that you're letting me be your new dad..."

****

As the days turned to weeks and weeks into months, father and son worked out relentlessly, with Bruce endlessly training Dick so that the boy could one day become his fulltime partner.

And as his training progressed, Dick's powers steadily improved. Within a few months he had almost absolute control of his vision powers. He could see through anything, analyze the molecular and atomic makeup of just about any substance, see farther and deeper into space than the worlds' most powerful telescopes, and heat anything up to the melting point. He could do all this with any substance imaginable, except plain, ordinary lead.

For some reason lead completed negated his vision powers. He couldn't see through it, analyze it, or melt it. Lead was impervious to him.

"Well, at least this makes you a little less of a 'Superboy,'" Bruce said. "Once criminals realize your weakness, we're going to run into safes and other containers that are lead-lined, not to mention whole warehouses. So, we'll just have to keep your vision powers a secret for as long as possible. No need to tell the bad guys about all your fire power."

"Gotcha!" Dick readily agreed.

Flying proved an exceptionally difficult power to control. The tenth time Dick slammed into a stalactite, Bruce forbade him from using his flying powers inside the cave any longer.

"Until you learn complete control," he warned.

"How will I learn to control it, if I can't use it?" Dick asked reasonably. "I'm the so-called Dark Knight and you're going to be my squire, right?" Bruce asked. Dick nodded uncertainly.

"Okay, you'll learn to fly under nighttime conditions, outside on the Manor grounds. And no speeding! Not until you can control your landings better," Bruce said, and then turning away, he muttered, "All I need is for you to fall and break your neck. Alfred will kill me then!"

Dick grinned at Bruce's retreating back. "But you know that I heal really fast."

"Yeah, but it's the unnecessary cuts and bruises that I want us to avoid."

Dick sighed.

Bruce was even more protective than his mom had ever been. And Alfred? Forget it! Sometimes he was little more than an old nanny. Dick the acrobat--who'd taken his first steps on the high wire and who was developing into one of the most powerful beings on the planet--was being treated like delicate China by his new family members.

Eventually, Bruce made Dick wear a motorcycle helmet for protection, and knee and elbow pads. Furthermore, Dick's 'ground zero' landing zone was a series of stacked air mattresses that could be inflated and deflated within seconds of each other.

"Hollywood stuntmen use this type of platform to perform all of their falls," Bruce explained...

Within a few weeks, Dick's control improved sufficiently so that Bruce reduced the number of air mattresses. However, he refused to allow Dick to remove the protective helmet and pads.

"Last I looked, you weren't invulnerable!" Bruce said.

"But I *look* like a dork!" Dick protested.

"Better a *safe* dork, than a comatose one," Bruce replied without looking up.

Dick crossed his arms and glared at the back of Bruce's neck. He stomped over to the trophy display case and stared unseeingly at the many artifacts that Batman had collected in his crime-fighting career.

One item in particular caught his eye, the tiny spacecraft that had transported him to Earth so long ago. Since the first time that he'd walked in his sleep, called by something within the craft, Dick had never again experienced the same kind of summons.

As the weeks passed, whatever the spacecraft had transmitted to him began to come to him in his dreams. His dreams soon became the source of most breakfast conversations with Bruce and Alfred. By talking about what he'd dreamt, Dick was remembering more about his home planet. And he'd finally been able to give it a name, Krypton.

Dick touched the glass case within which the spacecraft was kept hermetically sealed. One day, perhaps, Dick would also find the answer to the most important question.

"Why?" he whispered.

Why had he been sent here, alone? Had he been abandoned by his parents, much like he'd heard some newborn babies were left abandoned on doorsteps, or worse, in garbage cans? As always, the question pierced his heart.

As much love as he'd been surrounded with his entire life, sometimes he felt like the loneliest boy in the world. The only one of his kind.

Alone.

Feeling the tears that always seemed to be threatening sting the back of his eyes, he felt a warm hand on his shoulders.

"Whatever the reason, Master Dick," Alfred's soothing voice said quietly, "I just thank God that he brought you to us. You've made us both very happy, young man."

Dick smiled up at Alfred. Much more than cook and driver, Bruce had said. Way more, Dick agreed.

Meanwhile, seemingly oblivious to the little drama being played behind him in the Batcave, but nevertheless quite aware of it, Bruce hunched over his computer and ran a search on a new criminal who was terrorizing the city of Gotham.

So far, he'd committed a string of jewelry store robberies, blown out the vaults of three of Gotham's banks, and stolen a 'Jack-in-the-Box' from a local drive- thru.

In addition to this rather bizarre act of vandalism, he'd also papered the staid edifice of the GCPD Headquarters building with toilet paper, painted Happy Faces on all of the GCPD squad cars, and somehow, he'd disassembled and reassembled Commissioner Gordon's official vehicle inside Gordon's own office.

At this point, the frustrated Gordon called in Batman and asked for his assistance. It took most of Batman's iron self-discipline to keep from laughing, out loud. Instead, he'd listened with his usual grimness as Gordon explained the situation.

It wasn't until later, when Batman returned to where he'd parked the Batmobile, that he discovered that Gordon wasn't the only one who was the victim of someone's idea of a practical joke.

The Batmobile's tires had been slashed.

Bruce remembered the suspect waving jauntily and laughing as he'd made good his escape in a balloon with a Happy Face. The local news media even started calling him, "The Joker."

At first Batman wouldn't have gotten personally involved in this case, because he privately believed the GCPD could easily have handled it. But the Joker's last act of petty vandalism against the Batmobile was the final straw. Besides, the guy had a maniacal laugh that sent chills down Batman's spine.

"Slash *my* tires," Bruce muttered. "Nobody messes with my car and laughs about it." He heard Dick giggle behind him. Turning, he quirked a sheepish eyebrow at the boy. "Okay, okay, munchkin. Wait'll *you* get your first car. You'll understand."

Of course, now Batman realized that the Joker was anything but! So far his body count was rising. In a new string of robberies, he'd killed a jewelry storeowner, his wife, and a teenaged clerk who'd worked for them on weekends, as well as, two security guards at one of the banks he'd heisted.

It was almost as if now that he had everyone's attention, the Joker wanted everyone to realize that he wasn't just another clown.

Instead, he was proving to be the stuff of nightmares. And that maniacal laugh! Like fingernails scratching a blackboard. Bruce again felt a chill go up and down his spine.

Curiously, in his two final robberies, the Joker had introduced a new element to his crime spree. He'd apparently sprayed, or used some other method of delivery, a strange gaseous mixture that caused his victims to acquire the ghoulish rictus grin of a corpse. So far, the victims were unconscious and hospitalized at Gotham General, alive, but barely.

Bruce cringed a little guiltily. He'd only entered the case because of his tires, but now--? This "Joker" character was proving to be a formidable criminal. Possibly insane, certainly brilliant. Bruce knew that it would take more than the usual detective work to catch him.

Watching Bruce at work, Dick sighed. He understood his adoptive father's concerns, but really, Dick felt that he had almost complete control of his flying powers now. He didn't pause at the 'almost.' Instead, he took a deep breath, ready to plunge in and restart his argument.

"Nothing doing," Bruce said with finality before Dick could speak. He stood up suddenly, shutting the system down as he started for the uniform vault.

Dick caught a quick glimpse of what the file said, before the system shut. His photographic memory captured the image and information and processed it instantly. He knew where Batman would be going that night.

Batman emerged from the vault and made his way to the Batmobile purposefully. Pausing at the open driver's side door, he looked over at Dick momentarily. Alfred was standing behind the boy, both hands on Dick's shoulders.

Then, as he'd been doing almost every night for the past few months, Batman held his gloved hand up, forefinger and thumb forming an 'L.' Smiling, Dick held his own hand up in the same 'L' sign.

Briefly meeting Alfred's eyes, Batman nodded curtly, and climbed into the Batmobile. He slammed the door shut, powered up the super-turbocharged engines, and roared into the night.

Dick slowly brought his hand down. Looking at the 'L' shape, he murmured softly to himself, "'L' for 'I love you.'"

****

Dick took a bite from the last of the chocolate chip cookies that Alfred allowed him to have before bedtime. He followed it with a deep gulp from his milk. Slouching deeper into the large sofa in the family room, Dick found a more comfortable spot and settled down again.

Bedtime was in less than twenty minutes. He wanted to catch the sports news before he went upstairs to brush his teeth. Finally, the local news and weather report were over and Jack Ryder, GNN Sports Reporter, would be next.

Dick was dying to know about the Gotham Knights' game. The Knights were 4-0 so far, and it looked like they were going to be headed to the cellar this season.

As Jack Ryder's handsome face flashed on, he was suddenly interrupted by GNN's news anchor.

"Jack, I'm sorry," Summer Gleason broke in. "We've just received word of breaking news." Gleason turned to the camera, and looking very solemn, she added for the benefit of listeners, "We now go *live* to our reporter on the scene, Stuart McLeod, outside of Goldman and Goldman's Fine Jewelers at the corner of Nineteenth North West and Columbia. Stuart, what do you have for us?"

Dick sat up straighter when he heard the name of the jewelry store.

"Summer," McLeod's excitement was barely contained, "we are right now in the middle of what has turned into a hostage situation. The GCPD has deployed its SWAT team, and as you can see from what's happening--Kyle pan the camera in that direction--" The camera quickly panned and zoomed in on several police officers in riot gear, armed with automatic assault rifles, and in defensive positions around the store.

"--As you can see from what's happening, Summer," McLeod continued, "the SWAT team has completely surrounded the store at the moment. We're--"

He was suddenly interrupted by the sharp staccato of automatic fire. The camera panned crazily up and down. Dick could hear the sounds of grunts and yells. Suddenly, the audio and visual pickups were cut off.

The news returned to the studio where Gleason and Ryder were staring unbelievingly at the camera. Gleason blinked as if suddenly aware of where she was and began to speak, stumbling only slightly over her prompt cards. Within seconds, the station broke for a commercial.

Dick instantly changed channels. Finally, he found a local 24-hour news channel and waited. About to change channels again, the anchor looked up seriously and announced "Breaking News."

Dick watched intently as the camera cut to the on-the-scene reporter. The staccato of automatic weapons had stopped. The camera panned in several directions until it found a specific window on the third floor overlooking the street below.

"We believe that the gunman or gunmen is currently holed up in a room off of this window that you're seeing right now," the reporter said in a voiceover.

"Steve," the news anchor back at the station, interrupted. "Do we have any idea of who the gunman might be?"

"No, Walt. There's some speculation being circulated, but it's mostly wild rumor. Some of the GCPD representatives here have said that the gunman could be one of their ten-most wanted, Tony Zucco, or maybe even this new guy, the Joker. But, like I said that's pure speculation." He spoke directly to his cameraman, "Jay, can you pan back to the third floor window?" The camera panned suddenly and refocused on a darkened window near the roof.

"We believe that the shots just fired came from this window," Steve reported. Then excitedly, he added, "We just received word that the GCPD is getting ready to make their move--"

At this moment, the camera caught sight of a dark figure with a black cape swooping across the rooftop.

"What was *that*? Jay, did you catch that? Quick, up there. On the roof!"

Dick had stopped listening. He ran towards his room, taking the stairs two at a time. Zucco? Was Zucco in cahoots with the Joker?

Dick didn't know, but he knew that he couldn't just sit home and wait. He rifled quickly through his chest of drawers and found what he wanted, black sweatpants and a black hooded sweatshirt that Bruce had bought him at Gotham Stadium. The sweatshirt had the Gotham Knights' logo across the chest in dark blue.

Dick dressed quickly, adding a pair of worn sneakers and black gloves to his disguise. He heard footsteps outside his door. Alfred!

Not waiting, the boy stepped outside onto his balcony, and jumping up on the railing, he held his arms straight out on either side of him, then with a soft prayer, he closed his eyes and leaped up into the moonlit night.

****

End of Part 2 (Continues in Part 3, coming soon!)

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