"Okay, how can I plan this out?" Tim thought to himself. He was lying
across his bed, and his batarang on his pillow. That party was tomorrow
night, and he had to get more organized to make this work. What Dick said
to him at the game, that was so uncalled for. He would really get him back
at this party.
"Tim?" Bruce poked his head through the door. "Aren't you tired?"
"If I was tired, don't you think I'd be in bed already?"
Bruce just smiled. "You happy that the season's over?"
"Well duh, of course. Oh yeah, there's this party tomorrow night, and---"
"Say no more, you can go. I'm glad you're getting your social life back, hehe."
Tim just glared at him. "Night, Timmy." Bruce walked out. "About time, old man", he thought to himself. Now back to his 'master plan'. If he could create some kind of disaster, he could lure Dick to the party, and reveal his identity. But how?
"Look Babs, I gotta go, honest!" "Okay, okay Boy Wonder, just chill. Daddy needs to use the phone anyway. See ya." Barbara hung up. Dick stared at the receiver. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then picked up Rosie, the little country bear that he kept under his pillow. His mother had won it at the fair in Greensborough for him like a week before he got to Gotham City, where-
Dick sat up straight. What was that noise? He thought he'd heard a creak, but maybe not. He leaned back against the headboard, and hugged Rosie tighter to his chest. He laid his chin on its head and stared ahead. Tim watched him from outside of the window. He carefully picked up his no-flash camera and took a picture of him and Rosie, that ghetto old bear. Dick could be such a baby, always holding that raggedy old bear.
Tim swung down from the balcony. He had so much stuff to nail that creep. Let's see, the list:
--Dick sleeps with a teddy bear at twenty one. --Prefers pink flowers, and used to grow roses in his window box. --Talks to his teddy bear, Rosie, in private. --Meditates, does yoga, and has been on a vision quest. --Has let Barbara give him a makeover before. --Used to think that the comic book character, Black Siren, was hot.
All that was pretty good, but then, Dick was Nightwing. That really topped off everything. But how to prove it? He could call 911 or a distress signal, but would Dick fall for it?
Tim swung through the window into his room. He took the pictures he had from the jiffy camera and put them in a zip-lock under his bed, where they would be hidden from view. He crawled into bed. He was so tired from that game. He was nervous about revealing the secret life of Dick Grayson, but was happy that he could finally get him back for all the stuff Dick had pulled on him, like the time Dick filled Tim's locker with cottage cheese, and it stunk for weeks. And the time Dick set a trap for Tim so that when the he walked into the house, hot fudge fell on him from a trap in the ceiling. He had been so embarrassed by that!!
Dick peaked through the crack in Tim's door. That kid was up to something. Dick slowly pushed open the door and crept into the dark room. Tim stirred, and instinctively Dick dropped to the floor. Tim opened one eye, then closed it, satisfied. Dick felt something under his hand, and slid it from the edge of the bed. Pictures. Lots of them. "Has Tim been spying on me?" Dick thought to himself. He picked up the bag, then snuck out of the room, down the dark hall, and into his. He shut the door, turned on his reading lamp, and began to look at the pictures.
"Oh my god", Dick said to himself. The pictures were of him and Rosie, him tending to his flower garden, doing yoga, his vision quest certificate, when he got that makeover from Barbara, and many others. He was thoroughly disgusted, but more so when he got to the last picture. Nightwing with his mask off. Dick was so angry, he could knock that brat senseless. No matter. He could still take matters into his own hands.
Dick picked up the phone and dialed. The phone rang twice, and then a voice came over the phone: "Hello?" "Hey Barbara, it's me. Are you busy tomorrow night?"
"Tim?" Bruce poked his head through the door. "Aren't you tired?"
"If I was tired, don't you think I'd be in bed already?"
Bruce just smiled. "You happy that the season's over?"
"Well duh, of course. Oh yeah, there's this party tomorrow night, and---"
"Say no more, you can go. I'm glad you're getting your social life back, hehe."
Tim just glared at him. "Night, Timmy." Bruce walked out. "About time, old man", he thought to himself. Now back to his 'master plan'. If he could create some kind of disaster, he could lure Dick to the party, and reveal his identity. But how?
"Look Babs, I gotta go, honest!" "Okay, okay Boy Wonder, just chill. Daddy needs to use the phone anyway. See ya." Barbara hung up. Dick stared at the receiver. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then picked up Rosie, the little country bear that he kept under his pillow. His mother had won it at the fair in Greensborough for him like a week before he got to Gotham City, where-
Dick sat up straight. What was that noise? He thought he'd heard a creak, but maybe not. He leaned back against the headboard, and hugged Rosie tighter to his chest. He laid his chin on its head and stared ahead. Tim watched him from outside of the window. He carefully picked up his no-flash camera and took a picture of him and Rosie, that ghetto old bear. Dick could be such a baby, always holding that raggedy old bear.
Tim swung down from the balcony. He had so much stuff to nail that creep. Let's see, the list:
--Dick sleeps with a teddy bear at twenty one. --Prefers pink flowers, and used to grow roses in his window box. --Talks to his teddy bear, Rosie, in private. --Meditates, does yoga, and has been on a vision quest. --Has let Barbara give him a makeover before. --Used to think that the comic book character, Black Siren, was hot.
All that was pretty good, but then, Dick was Nightwing. That really topped off everything. But how to prove it? He could call 911 or a distress signal, but would Dick fall for it?
Tim swung through the window into his room. He took the pictures he had from the jiffy camera and put them in a zip-lock under his bed, where they would be hidden from view. He crawled into bed. He was so tired from that game. He was nervous about revealing the secret life of Dick Grayson, but was happy that he could finally get him back for all the stuff Dick had pulled on him, like the time Dick filled Tim's locker with cottage cheese, and it stunk for weeks. And the time Dick set a trap for Tim so that when the he walked into the house, hot fudge fell on him from a trap in the ceiling. He had been so embarrassed by that!!
Dick peaked through the crack in Tim's door. That kid was up to something. Dick slowly pushed open the door and crept into the dark room. Tim stirred, and instinctively Dick dropped to the floor. Tim opened one eye, then closed it, satisfied. Dick felt something under his hand, and slid it from the edge of the bed. Pictures. Lots of them. "Has Tim been spying on me?" Dick thought to himself. He picked up the bag, then snuck out of the room, down the dark hall, and into his. He shut the door, turned on his reading lamp, and began to look at the pictures.
"Oh my god", Dick said to himself. The pictures were of him and Rosie, him tending to his flower garden, doing yoga, his vision quest certificate, when he got that makeover from Barbara, and many others. He was thoroughly disgusted, but more so when he got to the last picture. Nightwing with his mask off. Dick was so angry, he could knock that brat senseless. No matter. He could still take matters into his own hands.
Dick picked up the phone and dialed. The phone rang twice, and then a voice came over the phone: "Hello?" "Hey Barbara, it's me. Are you busy tomorrow night?"