Tim stood in front of his mahogany mirror, with a solemn expression,
combing his raven hair. Tonight was the last night he would ever have
outside of Wayne Manor. He knew that after Dick and Bruce found out about
what he planned to do tonight, he would be grounded forever. He may not
even be allowed to be Robin anymore. But getting his social life back was
well worth the risk.
Dick stood under the tall oak, a lighter in his hand. He stared intently at the pictures he held in his hand. He glanced around once, then lit the pictures on fire. He watched them burn with a strange smile on his face. He then waved the pictures. The fire blew out, and he scattered the ashes across the ground. He turned to walk inside, when his cell phone rang. He picked it up: "Hello?"
"Dick, it's me." Came an excited voice. "What time do you want to meet up?" Dick answered quickly. "You know the drill, Barb. We've been over this. Got the goods?"
"Yeah, duh."
"So I'll meet you in an hour?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
"Okay then." "Later." They both hung up. Dick stared straight ahead as he walked back toward the mansion. Tim would get paid back big-time for his dirty deeds. Dick would make certain of that.
"Great party", said Tim, as he talked to Morgan. They walked through the buzzing crowd, weaving in and out of excited teens. "Thanks", replied Morgan. "So what's your big thing? I mean, what are you going to do to convince everyone that you're worth hanging out with? I mean, not to bug", Morgan stammered. Tim smiled at her. "My secret", said Tim. "You'll find out when everyone else does." Tim smiled at a group of girls laughing and talking to his right. "Whoa, ladies", said Tim, smiling flirtatiously. Two of them, Angel Hartman and Delia Onasis, the most popular girls at Gotham High, just stared at him. Angel glared at him. "Why are you talking to me, you queer?" Tim started to stammer. "I didn't mean-" "Save it, creep!" yelled Delia. "I don't have time for this, it's gloss time anyway." She pushed her way past them and Angel followed close behind. Tim looked at Morgan. "And this, for me, is a good day." Morgan laughed. "Come on, let's go get some punch." They walked toward the table together.
Tim offered Morgan a drink, then poured one for himself. He brought the cup to his lips, about to take a sip, when he hesitated. What was that smell? He sniffed again. It smelled suspiciously like alcohol. "Hey Morgan", he said, "What's in this punch exactly?" "Uh," she began, "Strawberry and pineapple juices, sugar, cubed peaches, and 7up." "Mmmm, yummy", said Tim, rolling his eyes. He knew something was up. He heard a crash and whipped his head around.
Evan, Scott, and Tyler had a brawl going on in the living room floor. Tim looked intently, realizing that they were drunk. He knew then that this was an alcoholic party. Someone had spiked the punch. That could only mean one thing: the majority of the students tonight wouldn't remember what would later happen as a result of Tim's snooping. Tim, thinking about this in disgust, suddenly thought of his pictures. There was still a chance. He pulled out his Ziploc to take out his pictures. Morgan approached him, hiccupping. "What's that?"
"This is me getting back my social life, Morg."
"Let me see."
Before Tim could respond, Morgan snatched the pictures from him. She studied them, and began to laugh uncontrollably. "Tim, this won't help you at all!"
Tim snatched them back from Morgan and stared at them, in shock. There were pictures of himself, only, well, not himself. It was his face alright, but it was put on another body. But not just anybody. A freaking pig!! With a pink snout, too!!
Tim tore up the pictures, threw them in the floor, and mashed them with the toe of his oxfords. He gritted his teeth. Dick must have found the pictures. His plan was ruined.
Tim began to think. He could stay at the party, though they had alcohol there. He really should leave, but, well, Morgan was there. And she was kind of cute. Maybe just for a little while.
Tim went off by himself and sat down. "Better to watch the stupid drunks, than to get drunk or get in a fight with one", he thought to himself. After about twenty minutes, he got tired of sitting around, and went to get up. He knew most of the people were probably drunk, and close to passing out, so he decided to leave. He just needed to find Morgan and tell her that he was leaving.
"Batgirl, you ready?" Nightwing and Batgirl crouched in some bushes outside of a window in Morgan's yard. "Yeah", said Batgirl. "And I've got the television fixed up. It'll be awesome." "Great", said Nightwing. He peered inside. The television flipped on.
A strange thing appeared on the tv. "Attention all viewers", came a voice. "There has just been a murder report at the corner of Fifth and Main." Nightwing snickered as he saw several surprised faces turn around to see the tv turn on by itself.
"Timothy Drake is the alleged suspect, and there is a manhunt for him now. He is considered armed and dangerous. If you have any information, call 555- 0819."
Tim was sitting in a chair, when the television came on. He figured some idiot had sat on the remote or something. He watched for a moment. "Oh my god", he whispered. He was a murder suspect for a crime he didn't commit!! He needed to get out of there, and fast. His peers might have been drunk, but some would know enough to try and detain him.
He got up and crept quietly toward the door, when two pairs of hand pulled him back. "Not so fast Drake, you're not going anywhere!" said a voice. He turned around. Nightwing!
"Nightwing, thank God you're here! Listen, there's been a murder, and-" "Save it, you sicko." Nightwing pulled back a fist, and hit Tim square in the jaw. Tim stumbled back, as some students turned their heads to watch, most with a dazed expression.
"Nightwing, what the hell!" Tim sputtered. "I thought you were on my side".
"Yeah right", said another voice, the voice of Batgirl. "We don't support murderers." A foot came flying out from behind him, and struck him behind his right ear. Tim fell to the ground, and Nightwing picked him up by his shirt collar. Nightwing came loose with an upper cutting right, and Tim was knocked unconscious, in front of a bewildered crowd.
Dick stood under the tall oak, a lighter in his hand. He stared intently at the pictures he held in his hand. He glanced around once, then lit the pictures on fire. He watched them burn with a strange smile on his face. He then waved the pictures. The fire blew out, and he scattered the ashes across the ground. He turned to walk inside, when his cell phone rang. He picked it up: "Hello?"
"Dick, it's me." Came an excited voice. "What time do you want to meet up?" Dick answered quickly. "You know the drill, Barb. We've been over this. Got the goods?"
"Yeah, duh."
"So I'll meet you in an hour?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
"Okay then." "Later." They both hung up. Dick stared straight ahead as he walked back toward the mansion. Tim would get paid back big-time for his dirty deeds. Dick would make certain of that.
"Great party", said Tim, as he talked to Morgan. They walked through the buzzing crowd, weaving in and out of excited teens. "Thanks", replied Morgan. "So what's your big thing? I mean, what are you going to do to convince everyone that you're worth hanging out with? I mean, not to bug", Morgan stammered. Tim smiled at her. "My secret", said Tim. "You'll find out when everyone else does." Tim smiled at a group of girls laughing and talking to his right. "Whoa, ladies", said Tim, smiling flirtatiously. Two of them, Angel Hartman and Delia Onasis, the most popular girls at Gotham High, just stared at him. Angel glared at him. "Why are you talking to me, you queer?" Tim started to stammer. "I didn't mean-" "Save it, creep!" yelled Delia. "I don't have time for this, it's gloss time anyway." She pushed her way past them and Angel followed close behind. Tim looked at Morgan. "And this, for me, is a good day." Morgan laughed. "Come on, let's go get some punch." They walked toward the table together.
Tim offered Morgan a drink, then poured one for himself. He brought the cup to his lips, about to take a sip, when he hesitated. What was that smell? He sniffed again. It smelled suspiciously like alcohol. "Hey Morgan", he said, "What's in this punch exactly?" "Uh," she began, "Strawberry and pineapple juices, sugar, cubed peaches, and 7up." "Mmmm, yummy", said Tim, rolling his eyes. He knew something was up. He heard a crash and whipped his head around.
Evan, Scott, and Tyler had a brawl going on in the living room floor. Tim looked intently, realizing that they were drunk. He knew then that this was an alcoholic party. Someone had spiked the punch. That could only mean one thing: the majority of the students tonight wouldn't remember what would later happen as a result of Tim's snooping. Tim, thinking about this in disgust, suddenly thought of his pictures. There was still a chance. He pulled out his Ziploc to take out his pictures. Morgan approached him, hiccupping. "What's that?"
"This is me getting back my social life, Morg."
"Let me see."
Before Tim could respond, Morgan snatched the pictures from him. She studied them, and began to laugh uncontrollably. "Tim, this won't help you at all!"
Tim snatched them back from Morgan and stared at them, in shock. There were pictures of himself, only, well, not himself. It was his face alright, but it was put on another body. But not just anybody. A freaking pig!! With a pink snout, too!!
Tim tore up the pictures, threw them in the floor, and mashed them with the toe of his oxfords. He gritted his teeth. Dick must have found the pictures. His plan was ruined.
Tim began to think. He could stay at the party, though they had alcohol there. He really should leave, but, well, Morgan was there. And she was kind of cute. Maybe just for a little while.
Tim went off by himself and sat down. "Better to watch the stupid drunks, than to get drunk or get in a fight with one", he thought to himself. After about twenty minutes, he got tired of sitting around, and went to get up. He knew most of the people were probably drunk, and close to passing out, so he decided to leave. He just needed to find Morgan and tell her that he was leaving.
"Batgirl, you ready?" Nightwing and Batgirl crouched in some bushes outside of a window in Morgan's yard. "Yeah", said Batgirl. "And I've got the television fixed up. It'll be awesome." "Great", said Nightwing. He peered inside. The television flipped on.
A strange thing appeared on the tv. "Attention all viewers", came a voice. "There has just been a murder report at the corner of Fifth and Main." Nightwing snickered as he saw several surprised faces turn around to see the tv turn on by itself.
"Timothy Drake is the alleged suspect, and there is a manhunt for him now. He is considered armed and dangerous. If you have any information, call 555- 0819."
Tim was sitting in a chair, when the television came on. He figured some idiot had sat on the remote or something. He watched for a moment. "Oh my god", he whispered. He was a murder suspect for a crime he didn't commit!! He needed to get out of there, and fast. His peers might have been drunk, but some would know enough to try and detain him.
He got up and crept quietly toward the door, when two pairs of hand pulled him back. "Not so fast Drake, you're not going anywhere!" said a voice. He turned around. Nightwing!
"Nightwing, thank God you're here! Listen, there's been a murder, and-" "Save it, you sicko." Nightwing pulled back a fist, and hit Tim square in the jaw. Tim stumbled back, as some students turned their heads to watch, most with a dazed expression.
"Nightwing, what the hell!" Tim sputtered. "I thought you were on my side".
"Yeah right", said another voice, the voice of Batgirl. "We don't support murderers." A foot came flying out from behind him, and struck him behind his right ear. Tim fell to the ground, and Nightwing picked him up by his shirt collar. Nightwing came loose with an upper cutting right, and Tim was knocked unconscious, in front of a bewildered crowd.