Batman and Robin Reborn
Chapter 2
Emotionless Memories
Part One:

'My name is Tim Drake. I am a warrior. I am trained in seven lethal martial arts. I have mastered two. I am one of the world's foremost authorities on Artificial Intelligence. My legal status is: deceased. I am a mechanical, electrical and computer engineer. I can hack any and all known computer or electronic security systems. I am one of the world's top five detectives, acrobats and espionage specialists. I have accomplished all this by the age of 19. I live and work in Gotham City. I have been an average student, I have discovered Batman's identity. I have been Robin. I have led a team of superpowered heroes to numerous victories, I have had a sidekick and girlfriend as Robin. I have quit. I have trained. I have become like the Batman. I have seen Batman die before my eyes....'

I sat there in my chair, brooding... pondering the future. I looked at the monitors in the main Batcave. I say the main batcave because there are now several. Batgirl was the first to receive her own lair. Azrael as well has his own base of operations. Bruce was preparing for something... but what... what could have possibly left him and Steph as the only one in the Batcave...

"Master Tim..."

I turned slowly... Alfred didn't know yet... but must have been preparing himself for this for such a long time. He would read my heart the instant I looked at him, and he would know, just as I do, that I was not the one to reveal to him that Bruce was gone.

"Miss Stephanie is in her loft resting softly..."

I raised an eyebrow... the Batcave didn't have anything sounding so humane as a loft before... and Alfred hadn't been able to read me either. At least he didn't act like it. I headed up a ramp in the cave that had not been there before. Walking up a ramp, I was amazed and somewhat disturbed as things seemed to get brighter. Like day and night the Batcave, in a matter of 28 steps had turned into a soft and well lighted natural looking area. I saw a symbol of an R carved in a tree in this unnatrual green house. The place was warm, gentle, I noticed a computer area, a chemical observation table and realized that this was her version of a little Batcave. I was amazed as I walked past the Redbird and the Robincycle, stepping to a bed like infirmary table where she remain sleep. She was in simple, casual clothes now. Damn she was beautiful. Wonder why I left really... but as soon as I thought about that, as soon as I saw heard her voice in my mind's ear--it all came back to me...


*** Three Years Ago****

Tim Drake storms out of the main landing of the Batcave angrily. He doesn't react when his girlfriend, Stephanie, calls him. She chases him grabbing his shoulder somewhat aggressively, spinning on his heels she stared deeply into his eyes... her whole body seemed to soften with one word from her own lips:
"Tim..."
Tim narrowed his eyes. He took in the scene slowly... Tim was still wearing the Robin costume, minus the mask. He looked over Stephanie she was half in her costume and halfway out. Tim loved her, he really did. Robin and Spoiler had been so cool together, but he and she... were something so much more. Tim was Robin though and wasn't at liberty to reveal his name since that would basically reveal Bruce Wayne to be Batman. They had so many fights... so much tension... for what?
"Tim..." She continued, convincing herself that he was listening... "Batman... Mr. Wayne... he didn't mean any harm, he needed someone to find you, Tim, and I had to know... I wanted to know so badly, but now I know you're name, Tim, and it's okay, cuz Batman says its okay, and you didn't have to betray him to tell me your secret..."
Robin, Tim Drake just stared at the poor girl. He had nothing to say at all... what could have possibly captured how he felt... all the emotion in his head... every thought, no matter how he tried to be logical, seemed pointless, erratic and irresponsible.
Her eyes pleaded with him to calm down, to love her like they had always wanted him to.

"I'll be back... later..."

Robin began walking... he walked back through the cave and into the armory. Tim Drake walked out, or the armory, just a guy in jeans and a tshirt. He was calm, composed, completely emotionless, like a good little Bat. He began his trek up the multitude of stairs which led from the Batcave to Wayne Manor. Stephanie ran and watched him go, silent tears running down her face. She had been totally rejected, but not on her own merit. She had invaded his personal space and she knew that.

Batman knew he had betrayed his best protogee. The repercussions would last for a lifetime. He knew, deep down, that this had to happen sometime. There was never a twenty year old Robin. And for this particular one, at this particular point, the time was now...

Tim looked over his shoulder at the cave. Batman stood there, hands together, brooding. As if he were trying to come up with a plan for a new Robin already. Tim looked at Steph. His heart lurched hard. She loved him, totally and truly. He couldn't have asked her to do anything that she wouldn't die trying. He was her heart and soul. She was his ground into reality, if he had one. Someone he identified with. He had to leave her. He was going to leave it all. Batman already had a replacement for him.

Tim turned the corner and that was the last he saw of the Batcave for some time...

PART 2

That was years ago.
Now I'm back in the cave, running my hair through my ex-girlfriend's hair. She's unconscious... she's also Robin now, just as I predicted. And now... Batman's dead. And just like I was replaced he will be replaced. Either me, Nightwing or Azrael will become Batman permanently. Or possibly some two-bit idiot will use Batman as his super-villain gimmick. Asking for trouble.
I leaned forward as he began to plan his new life out. Tim Drake was dead... I killed him now that I think about it...

****Years earlier*****

"Tim, I know you're angry..." Richard John Grayson was such a nice guy sometimes it was sickening. Out of costume, away from his city, Bludhaven, out of his policeman's uniform, he was just plain Dick Grayson, an ex-circus performer and heir to the Wayne Fortune... most of it anyway. "But you know, deep down, Bruce has a plan. I don't know why you got cut out of it, of all people, and you have right to be as angry as you want..."
Dick and I were riding down the streets of Gotham in a Rolls Royce. It was about 10:30. Batman was already out for the night, so was Batgirl. Steph was probably being trained in some bat-technique while Alfred supervised. I hopped out of the car with a backpack. He looked back in at the man who was most often referred to as Nightwing. "but remember, you're still you, even without some R on your chest."
I smiled for a long second. "Thanks, Dick... you're one of the few people I'm actually going to miss..."
Dick smiled back, and stared at the young man for a long time. I didn't like goodbyes, so I slammed the door and Grayson quickly drove off. I headed towards the train station. He had no problem walking through observing. He slid out back through a service exit and found what he was looking for. A group of boys sitting around in a circle.
There was a small fire there near them. Several of them had white ciggarettes in their mouths. A drug dealer and his associates, his loyal customers. The drug dealer was identified most easily since he spoke coherently. "Aight, fellas, lets get this shiz out of here..."
I stayed hidden in the shadows, hearing just the voice he wanted. "Freeze, punks."
Two officers: Bullock and Montoya. Nice people. Good cops. Didn't like Batman though, especially Bullock. "Getcha hands above ya head, fellas, we can all go home nice and quiet and maybe even still switch back and forth between the opening monologues."
I almost chuckled but knew what was going to happen. He knew this gang... he had brought several of them in before and tried to reform them. He knew where they met, and how the felt about cops and getting caught. So it didn't surprise me when one of them hopped up and clumsily reached for his gun, followed by the others.
It didn't surprise Bullock either, who shoved Montoya aside as he leapt to cover firing at the leader.
BLAM!
The leader flew backwards a couple feet and landed on his back, eyes closed. He had just been shot in the heart and may have well been dead before he hit the ground.
The other gangsters ducked for cover and fired rapidly at the two cops, who huddled behind dumpsters calling for backup. In the meantime, I tossed a rope around the fallen boy. His name was Alejandro Johnson. He was the baby of 4 kids. He loved basketball and Jennifer Lopez and knew every rap Big Punisher ever did. I dragged the dead or dying boy to cover. He took his pulse. There was none. With morbid efficiency I opened his back pack, first he place a hot chemical over the boy's face... in a few seconds he took out a mask.... A thin skin and laid it over Alejandro's dead emotionless face. The mask warped properly and stuck as though it were the own skin of Alejandro. Alejandro now was the spitting image of Timothy Drake, who escaped up a fire escape, but deep down. I knew I wasn't Timothy Drake anymore. I heard that suicidal people imagine their feunerals. I didn't imagine I was there when my dad wept like a baby. When Bruce stood over the grave and occasionally scanned the crowd for me, in disbelief. I was there when Steph stopped crying. She just stopped, she couldn't even feel the pain anymore. Most painfully though, I was there when I saw alfred break. It was a single tear that ran down his face, but it meant far more to me than any other reaction.
And that was my last day in Gotham.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Part 3

Balance. Balance. Balance. Tim stood on a tight rope with one foot. In one hand he had a dummy, the size of the average woman. In the other hand he had a batarang. The tightrope was suspended above one of those dark depthless caverns in the cave while on the wall hung a dozen or so targets. Tim did a one handed cartwheel, throwing the Batarang as he spun. Then, as he righted himself, still holding onto the synthesized unconscious person, the boomerang like razor returned and he caught it. A target had been broken in the process. Tim did this over and over until he reached an out cropping where he landed softly and then put the dummy back in its place. Drake strolled out to the main cave and stopped suddenly.
"We need to talk." A dark voice called from the shadows.
Drake almost caught himself smiling. It was Dick's voice, and the older man had been smart enough to speak right before Tim had quite figured out who was here and what was happening.
"We do?" Tim played off very stupid, to see how much respect he carried.
Dick said nothing and Tim slowly turned around. Nightwing was straight-faced and unbending. He had been thinking long and hard, and once again, the original Robin was at a major turning point, but this time, it couldn't be solved by a new costume or a new Robin or anything like that.
Tim had been doing well with straightforwardness with his colleagues. He continued this practice but with a Batman-like edginess in his voice. "You think you have to replace him don't you? That it's your duty somehow, don't you?"
Nightwing said absolutely nothing. Tim was about to turn his back and walk away but Dick spoke.
"You're not ready to be Batman."
Tim froze. Almost every atom in his body froze. The temperature seemed to drop three degrees. He stared deep into Dick Grayson's eyes. It wasn't the same kid who had survived contagion... not the same kid who had become Batman for a few short moments when Klarion the Witch boy had come to town. It wasn't the same Tim Drake who had gone to Nightwing for advice, or had convinced him that Batman needed a Robin, or re-encouraged Richard when he felt he was letting Gotham down as Batman III. Now a young man who seemed to hold so much power stared nearly eye to eye with the man called Nightwing.
"You know, and I know, that deep down inside... I AM Batman..."
Dick was fast. He was an acrobat from ten years old. He had travelled abroad much like Bruce and now Tim had. His hands could barely be caught by most videocameras. On syllable 'man,' Nightwing's right hand lunged out at Tim's face with a raging force.
Tim blocked it. Simply put he reached out his hand and cupped the older man's fist in his hand and pushed it away with a force equal to the given punch. Tim wanted to say 'no,' he wanted to say 'wait,' or 'okay, maybe I'm wrong.' Deep down Dick probably didn't want to be Batman at all, and he surely didn't want this fight, but as Tim blocked and they made eye contact, they both knew it was too late.
Tim kicked out at almost the same time as Nightwing's other hand came at his gut. Tim twisted with the kick, brushing off the hit and connecting in Nightwing's side. The man simply shrugged it off and kicked at Tim's head with a hopping jump that put him at a hard position to hit. Tim gladly took the hit and rolled in the air with it, flipping sidewards as he kicked out at Nightwing's head, both still in mid air, Nightwing took the hit to his forearms and used it to flip backwards and lunged at Tim as soon as he touched the ground. Tim slid sidewards with a kick, but Nightwing grabbed him by the leg. Tim twisted and kicked with his free leg at Nightwing's chest. Tim dropped to the ground, flipped back up to his feet and charged Nightwing. Dick was definitely suprirsed and even though he struck out, Tim ducked the punch and grabbed the man's arm, leaning into him and judo slamming him into the cold concrete. Nightwing was recovering quicker now however and kicked up at Tim. Tim flew backwards in the air, over one of those chasms and landing with a thud and a half-bounce on the same stone platform as the Bat-computer.
Nightwing leapt airborne. He spread his arms and descended like a condemning dark bird of prey. Tim reached behind him and felt his belt. He had an extendable staff on him, once his weapon of choice, now it was just a resort as Nightwing brought out his Escrima and brought them down hard at Tim's chest. Tim yanked out and extended his staff, barely blocking the hit. Nightiwing pressed down on the boy, both of them were sweating, using their strength seriously.
"Tired yet?" Tim asked.
"Not on your life..."
Tim flipped Nightwing off of him by leaning back and kicking the guy in the chest, tossing him a good distance away, where the older guy landed on his feet and soon the steel bars were clanging rapidly as strikes and blocks were exchanged back and forth, forth and back, strikes and blocks and counterstrikes and counterblocks...


--Years earlier---

Lady Shiva. A legendary martial artist. Master of many forms, some of which she is the last holder of, or others, the supreme master. Batman once had his back broken, this was the woman to which he entrusted his re-training. She was to whom I went to get a boost for my fighting. She taught me things which I couldn't believe. She would often comment that my 'young muscles' were able to learn so much faster.
We would go on for weeks at a time, with small breaks whenever one could hide from one's enemy. We played this game all across the countryside, ducking and dodging, striking and counterstriking. I ate, fighting, I slept with one eye open, waiting for her to find me and attack. I went to the bathroom, thinking about my next attack. Every single moment of my life was literally part of a fight. My brain began to reshape somehow. I remember that one break I took. I ate, drank something and slept for nearly 30 hours. It was kind of fun actually, but a few hours later I began a month long battle. It was literally a month and a half long. I took a two day break, maybe three, I'm not sure.
I remember how that battle had eneded--we had picked up weapons. She had two short daggers, I had a metal staff, not a hollow metal staff mind you, I could have lifted that easily, but a literal steel staff, as though it were wood, and that's exactly how I had to handle it. We traded blows so fiercely that my steel was leaving impressions in her daggers every bit as much as her daggers scratched my staff.
Faster. Faster we went, trading blows. I hadn't gotten a nap for several days, and it was hurting me badly. I was working hard to make my brain work, much less work well. She had sensed I was on autopilot but I could see that she may never have had a student this dedicated. That's how I could end this. She wouldn't let me win, not on purpose, but maybe I could persuade her.
At that point were battling on the edge of an old building. I forced myself to work, to think, to become something better. I was able to knock her off balance. Only a second is what I needed. I used this moment to shove her sidewards, towards the edge. I kept my distance so she decided not to jump the considerable distance. That was when I moved in and she spun on her heels and began to block, but I kept pressing her. My determination was set. She was either going to surrender of go over the edge.
She didn't surrender.
I wasn't thinking. I was on autopilot. I saw an opening and I took it. Striking out at her gut I sent her careening off of the roof into the dark night air.

----Original Time-----

Nightwing didn't either. He went careening into the night air, but Tim knew he was going to fall. Tim had already been sure that he would secure this win, because Nightwing wanted Tim to win. Nightwing didn't want to be Batman, he didn't want to be THE best, he just wanted to be his best. That was okay... but it wasn't good enough for Batman. Never was, never could be. Tim grabbed Nightwing's leg even as he realized how totally he had lost.
Dick laughed as Tim hauled him back on ground. They both stood up. Nighting was smiling, Tim wasn't.
"So you want to be Batman?" Nightwing found some sort of comedy, where Tim did not. Tim knew that the wise-craking, fun-loving Grayson had always been there, but he couldn't with Bruce. Now that Tim was all straight and narrow, Grayson had plenty to say. "Are you even old enough to drink?"
Drake had no words. He simply turned his back and walks toward the bat-computer. Tim types in some things and the display pops up with a picture of Tim and Batman from those early days as Robin. Tim turned towards Nightwing.
"Does that look like me?" He demanded.
Dick said nothing.
"Does he act like me? Resemble me? Can he compete with me? Can he even relate to me?"
"You're losing it, Tim."
"Tim is dead, Grayson... he was killed in a small drug bust three and a half years ago."
Nightwing just hangs and shakes his head.
"You tell me why I'm here, then Dick, just help me out with why I'm here, or do I still have a reason."
The entire cave falls silent. Only a few distant bats are heard, along with the hum of the bat-computer.
Tim nods slowly as he sees it sink into Richard J. Grayson. "Well?" The young man says.
Nightwing takes a long time to decide but eventually he just nods then looks up at Tim.
The man... and he is a man now, sits in the legendary chair with his hands together. He leans on his hands and looks directly back into Nightwing's eyes.
"Okay... so what if you are Batman... what happens next?"
Tim nodded with a tiny half-smile.
"Now we rebuild the legacy."
"We?" Dick asks.
"Steph and I. Remember, you're your own man, and so am I, can't have you putting in a good word for me with Babs and Valley, can I?" Tim is struggling to hold back his smile.
Dick laughs as he walks towards the computer. "Of course, but if you ever want to get your own get up, I here there's another little town near Bludhaven..."
The two men stand up and hug each other like men.
They step back and look at each other for a long second.
"Okay...Batman..."
They both look at each other and laugh.
"That's going to take some getting used to." Tim conceeded.
"Yeah..." Dick left a pause. "You aren't really as serious as you are acting are you?"
Tim looked at the man and slowly nodded. "Like a heart attack."
Nightwing nodded with a sly smile as he hopped in his coupe and left the cave, headed for Bludhaven.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Part 4

"Master Timothy." Alfred stood behind me somewhere. Presently, Tim was working under the Batmobile, on some integration system for the car-to make it more personalized. I slid out and looked up at the amazing butler.
"Yes, Alfred?"
"Miss Stephanie has awakened."
Silence.
"I suspect you haven't been training your conversation skills."
"Alfred..." I tried to respond but my brain kept running over the same spots. That meant right now, Steph was my only weakness. "I think you should tell her..." I paused again as the butler started to turn around. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm always well taken care of, Master Tim." And he turned his head in such a way as to imply 'leave me alone' and so I did just that. He didn't answer my question. I knew Bruce had been like Alfred's son. At the same time, he seems to have promised the dead Waynes that Bruce would be cared for and safe. Alfred failed that promise. He outlived his master, his junior by nearly forty years. I could only imagine what that man must feel like inside.
I sauntered on towards the armory and walked in. This place had all the costumes and weapons that we used. The Batsuit major stood there. A beautiful deep black with gloss and golden belt and symbol. Across from this was the Robin suit. The present one which made Stephanie look pretty dang cute. I walked along, admiring Nightwings old duds and Barbaras costume out of reach on the top... just for display. I found what he wanted. It was the suit... the same suit he had left before, hung in very same case in the very same angry haphazard way. They had collected dust. I got the message. Robin III was a faded memory. Robin II's costume, next to mine, was kept clean, sort of. It was dust free and kinda gleamed in the flourecent light. No one should ever forget what being unprepared does to them, especially when they work with Batman.
Or if they are the Batman.
I looked hard at my old costume... and opened the case. With great tripidation I took out the dark maks and put it over my face. It fit kind of tight now. I looked at myself in the glass there. I could see the Robin suit as if it were sort of over me. I felt sick to my stomach.
I felt like I had betrayed my own self, and quickly yanked the mask off of my face, throwing it to the ground. I looked down at it and then up at the case. Slowly I reached down and put the mask in its place, straightening the costume and shutting the glass. No one should forget the pain that is felt when one of us betrays another. Not even for a second in the direst of circumstances.
I walked out of the armory and looked over the cave. The Batcave. My Batcave. I slid back under the Batmobile and fixed the last few wires. Closed the hatches, locked them electromagnetically and slid back out, reaching back I pulled my hood over my head and slid on my special polarized glasses. I hopped in the car... it felt strange somehow, but I had no problem, since it had been so similar to the Redbird.
Steph was going to have to wait... I had some loose ends to tie up.

A few minutes later I stopped at a certain point. Azrael was a smart man. Over the past three years he most likely has grown even more brilliant, but the fact remained he was still a schizophrenic, and still was subsidiary to Batman. Now I had to convince him that I was Batman.
I strolled into a Cathedral confidently. I stood there near the front, near an altar while the moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, creating horrendous shadows and shapes. I heard a click and found it no surprise when he sleekly crept around the ceiling to get a look at my front before doing anything. I simply turned the other direction and headed for the exit. I heard his cape flutter as he descended. He was till an act-first-ask-questions-later guy. As got close, judging by the average Batman descent and the man's previous weight, plus a few pounds for muscle I slid sidewards and kicked at his side as he passed.
He was about as surprised as any of us could ever be. He had assumed too much and he had paid for it. But he was mad, almost instantly, and from the kick I gave him, which his armor probably absorbed well, he rolled and stood, unsheathing his two blazing wrist mounted blades.
"Valley." I called him out by his real name.
Azrael grunted and tightened his fists.
"I won't pretend to know what you're thinking, but you're looking for a new direction, for Batman, am I right."
Azrael stepped out of the shadows. How could I have been so unobservant. How could I not have expected it. His costume was modified. It had pointy ears on top and a strangely changed Batsignal on the front.
"I am Batman, boy... what are you doing here?"
I narrowed my eyes. This was going to be a long night. "John Paul Valley. Azrael, yes. You are not Batman, not by a long shot. I am Batm..."
I decided not to continue speaking as the 3 foot long blades struck out at my throat. I rolled backwards, under pews, which he proceeded to hack up. But even as he swung down I hopped up and kicked him in the head, backflipping off of his chest and judo push-dodging his attack.
I had just about had my fill of fighting my teammates.
Azrael sheathed a blade and reached behind him, quickly with a practiced motion. I did likewise, reaching into my own belt of goodies.
Three batarangs flew at me. I acted at the last moment.
CRUNCH
Two batarangs met with my own trowing weapons and dropped to the floor. Azrael looked at me and I held up the batarang which I had caught with my two fingers. He looked at himself and saw one dug into his armor, and likely into his skin. I kept glaring at him and he also realized that his Bat-ears were missing.
I had developed quite a few goodies, which Azrael was about to understand as he rushed me, torching and slashing pews to crowd my vision. He didn't know the half. I threw down a powerful flash bomb. He had polarized lenses so he wasn't affected at all by the blinding light, which was likely now visible for at least a mile away. The big hit was when I dropped an adhesive onto the ground, which he didn't notice since the light was so bright. His foot got stuck on it, right in that 5-30 second window, when it was most powerful and instantaneous.
After that it was history. He lunged. He hadn't rigged his boots to be escapable. Poor guy. I knocked him around, carefully drawing him out from his stationary foot and off balance. Even with five foot reach, he couldn't pull off a win in this situation. Not like this. When I got close enough I detatched his helmet.
Jean Paul Valley stood there staring at me. I figured with the helmet of his less violent personality would assert itself. The man looked at me blankly as he figured where he was and what was happening.
"You beat Azrael?!" He looked at me obviously confused.
I simply nodded and helped him up.
"You don't recognize me do you?" I gave a half smile, nothing telling though, just enough to make me look more human and less... bat-like.
"Robin?" He squinted at me.
I almost laughed. "They call me Tim now."
Valley nodded almost understanding, as if it all made perfect sense. And maybe to his type... my type... it should. He looked down at the Azrael costume, then at his boot. He knelt and ran his gloved fingers over the substance. Now it was hard, almost as the concrete, and his boot was melded with it.
"What IS this?"
I took a vial out of my miraculous supply belt, which seemed to soon rival the original Batman's own resourcefulness, and dissolved the substance of my own invention, Valley flexed as he began to replace his hood and mask. I was about to clock him when he gave me a reassuring look.
"I have control of the avenger now, Tim. Relax." He replaced his costume and looked toward the night sky. "Can you show me how you created that compound?"
I nodded. This was how I was going to win Azrael, by a favor of knowledge. I had plenty knowledge to feed him over time too. "I heard you had a Batcave."
Azrael gave a nod as he fired a grapple line through the window into the sky. I followed, and we found ourselves running across the rooftops.

---Years earlier----

I was bounding from roof to roof. I had just gotten 3 hours sleep. That's what I was averaging. But not just any sleep. Deep, work and train 'til you're exhausted and fall out sleep. Waking up at dawn was also necessary, with me working three jobs here in Tokyo, I was bound to do everything imaginable.

First job- mechanical engineer. Did I have so much as an Associate's in Engineering? Nope. But I did have a man who just happened to owe me his life working high up in the company. I had set him up pretty nice. A blaring truck and a few false documents and I was a working man. But I wasn't there for money... but for experience. Every spare moment there was spent studying plans, machines, chemicals, everything they had there. That was a 'full-time job,' but I usually only put four hours a day in, using the other four to sneak around the archives and labs and stuff, gathering info. My second job was at a computer place. That was fun. I loved artificial intelligence, so I had developed a computerized friend named 'Spock' in honor of my first dream: to fly a starship. But that's a story for another day. Spock organized my workload, cracked jokes, and did a lot of my basic programming for me. In the meantime, I would practice hacking and creating different systems to run anything... especially a car and jet. Preferably one's with a bat prefix. I got a good deal of my sleep at this job while computer created real-time images of me working. I also did some physical equipment.
My last job was somewhat more shady. My third shift was put in on the black market. I was a smuggler of sorts. Its one thing to study criminology.
Its another thing entirely to live it.
I saved people when I could, but sometimes, guys got killed. And even those I helped didn't get out. They kept living on the edge, and eventually they ended up on the wrong side of the trigger. I learned a lot of Japanese curse words, which were pretty funny to me since they weren't the equivalent of various feces, sexual intercourse and eternal condemnation. I did more strenuous work-outs here between runs and shipments. You'd be surprised the weight rooms smugglers can afford.
Then, after a few hours of that, right after the peak of the craziest part of the night, I would go get some sleep, almost always 2-4 hours. If there was something big happening I would take a day off and get some extra sleep.
And so here I was with a briefcase and my standard black scooting across the skyline of Tokyo, Japan. I landed on my job's roof and slide through the service door on the roof. I skidded downstairs, and through a shaft very quickly landing on an empty toilet in the Men's restroom. I opened my case and changed into my business suit, exiting the stall and walking into my office, turning on the office lights. I was, as always, the first one here.

--now--
I did that for a year, and might have been content to do that for a long time... but Gotham was waiting...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I rolled back into the cave. The Batmobile was purring like a kitten as I parked it and the pad spun it around. I walked to the computer and started typing in some download routines. My brain was working so fast now. Batman. Gotham. The JLA. Young Justice. Information. I needed information. I had to know everything. Watchtower teleportation routines. What happened to Superboy? Wondergirl? Impulse? Secret? Spoiler...
I turned around and she was standing there. She was in her Robin costume minus the mask. She was crying... hard. I felt my whole heart soften. My whole attitude about life seemed to change. Her face looked at me with ten or twelve different emotions. She was mad. She was hurt. Was she happy to see me. I felt something tug at my heart, so I smiled.
She laughed and cried at the same time and fell to the ground. I ran over to her and wrapped my arm around her. She leaned into me totally, completely, holding absolutely nothing back.
The funny thing was, I didn't cry. I had missed her, yeah, and she was still my Stephanie, obviously, but was I still Tim Drake? Was human enough to come back to her. The steady, unrushed beating of my heart told me I wasn't going to go out like that I was going to face the same problems as Bruce had, if not more, but I wasn't going to go out like a punk. Not today, not tonight... not ever.
I picked her up in my arms, doing the old threshold carry and tried to set her in the chair at the Batcomputer. She still hung onto me, so I sat down with her still in my arms. A red light on the panel beeped. The main screen on the computer, which was now showing the progress on downloading the files on the JLA, was replaced by a batsignal piercing the nightsky. This was moved to a corner. As Channel 6, WGTH came on. Summer Gleeson, with just enough makeup to cover the first signs of wrinkling popped up:
"Good evening Gothamites," She was hushed in tone and her backdrop resembled more of a warzone than an upscale party, her usual stories. "This is Summer Gleeson, and I am here reporting live from Gotham Plaza Towers where a crazed maniac has..." She glanced sidewards... "If anyone can help us..." She looked back and the camera and was rushed, leaning forward with mic in hand as her tone became more rushed... "The police... Batman... anyone! Please!"
She began to run off the opposite side from where she had been looking but a man grabbed her by the waist, yanking her up and taking her under his arm, with her kicking and screaming as he molested her. In front of this scene however appeared a new visage. I recognized it almost immediately. By this time, Steph was looking at the screen as well.
"Hello, Gotham." The voice echoed, it seemed, all through the cave.
It was the one called Two-Face. Harvey Dent. One of Bruce Wayne's good friends early on. Now he was a deranged killer, addicted to chance. He was trying his luck in Tim's opinion.
"Now, with the old Bat dead, The Five are the rulers of Gotham. I'm inviting the Mayor and Commissioner Gordon out to discuss the terms of our agreement. Until this happens, we are welcoming any visitors, but we're not guaranteeing anyone leaving...alive..." He gave that ugly half-smirk and flipped a coin. "Good luck, and Good night." He pulled out a gun and shot the camera.
"Poor Summer." Stephanie pouted.
"Poor us." I mused. "He's just drawing us out... that is... all of the Bat-protogees who could possibly cause a problem. He thinks we're stupid and are just going to all come crashing down on them so they can take us out."
She nodded slowly. "So that's what we're going to do then?"
I nodded. "With Two-Face running it, that means we still have a 50/50 chance of surviving anyway..."
She grinned. "Better chance than most times, huh?"
I nodded was ready to leap into action when I looked at her face to face. She admired me rediculously. I leaned over and kissed her. I felt a wave of warmth wash over me and realized I was still human. But even as I realized I was, I knew I shouldn't be. Besides, we didn't really know each other anymore. Tim Drake, I reminded myself, was dead. I set her down and turned toward the armory.
"Master Tim." Alfred was standing there and waiting. "I've taken the liberty of updating one of Master Bruce's old suits. You do appreciate good second-hand wear, sir?"
I walked toward Alfred and the Armory. I couldn't help but give a small smile. "Tim Drake is dead remember."
"Very well, Master Draper."
I stopped just then, it was right as I stepped into the armory room. I looked at him and he looked at me. I think we connected or something. I looked and there was one Batman costume in the active area. There were several back with the old Robin costumes. Bruce's classic was right there next to the Jason Todd. I looked at mine and put it on quickly. Stepping out of the Armory, I looked over the cave.
My Cave.
Alfred was so full of pride.
Stephanie... no... Robin was so excited.
I was excited. But I was determined. This means something, being Batman. It means the world to me, maybe more.
And in that moment, when Robin and I started running towards the Batmobile, I realized that Tim Drake really was dead. Alvin Draper, or whoever I was, was very much alive. And he was here to stay.
I was too old to be having identity crises, but I knew deep down, that there was a lot more to becoming Batman than a costume and the approval of the others...
I was going to learn how much more.