ROBIN and all related characters, names and indicia are TM & © DC Comics 2004. Story by Chuck Dixon, novella adaptation by Ice Spectre.

Rated PG

"TRIUMPH OVER TRAGEDY" - Staples Bad, Robinmobile Good

When I got home from school, I slept for an hour and a half, then meditated for another half hour. Now I'm standing in a cold shower. Well, not quite cold, I put a little hot water on. It's too cold outside to take an entirely cold shower. I really want to turn the "H" knob all the way up and boil myself, but I can't. I'll fall fast asleep.

Alright, this is quite enough. My teeth are chattering. I'm getting out. I left my robe in my room. I left my towel in my room. I forgot everything in my room down the hall. Fortunately, Alfred keeps the bathrooms stocked with "general use" bathroom items, like shampoo and soap and towels, thank god. I wrap the biggest, thickest towel I can find around my waist and pad barefoot back down to my room. The marble floor is freezing. I think I'm awake enough to tackle being Robin tonight.

Finally, I'm in the Batcave. School was longer than usual today. Well, it felt like it was. Putting on the costume was almost enough of a rush to wake me up. Fear-adrenaline is also doing the trick.

Not a peep from the Joker, and I decide to check out his cell at Arkham. Alfred is firing up the van. I'm ready to start calling this thing the Robinmobile, since it's my only form of transportation right now. I can't be seen with Alfred, so the van is not a widely known or seen accessory of the Dynamic Duo. Could you imagine what would happen if someone saw me with Alfred? Actually, I don't think we've been careful enough about that. I sink down a bit in the passenger seat as we drive through a residential area of the Gotham suburbs.

Alfred lets me off on a tiny little deserted back road about a half a mile from Arkham. If we get any closer, I could be seen getting out of a red van, and the red van could be followed or driven off the road, and Alfred could be kidnapped, and forced to lead them to Bruce and I, and that would kill everything! Okay, I'm being a little paranoid, and projecting a little, too, but I can't help it. I'm up against some heavy odds, here. So it means a half-mile hike in the cold, snowy woods towards a loony bin.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm shivering in the lobby of the offices at Arkham. They're being very helpful, really, and I suppose that's because they think I'm just going to take this information directly back to Batman. I've already questioned the Director and Assistant Director completely, and got every detail I could. Not much help. Malwitz is taking me to see Joker's cell. He wishes Batman were here. Don't we all. But I have to admit, it's really beginning to hurt that I'm such a letdown to everyone. If I don't screw this one up, maybe that will all change.

"I haven't had a wink of sleep since this whole thing started," Malwitz looks pretty wasted, too. He didn't need to tell me that. At least with this mask of mine, no one can see the dark circles under my eyes. "Are we expecting your mentor soon?"

Yeah, I was wondering when he'd ask me that.

"He's..." No, better not tell him he's out of town. Don't want a panic to ensue. "Batman's involved in another aspect of the case. We thought it might help if I got a look at The Joker's cell." There. Made it sound like Batman's calling the shots, making me do the dirty work.

Before I left the Cave, I called Commissioner Gordon and told him it might be best if he didn't tell anyone that Batman was out of town. That might really set the Joker on a crime spree. Gordon agreed. Gordon's a wise man.

"I'm not sure what his cell might tell you," Malwitz is unlocking the door. "There's not much here to see. But we didn't take anything out of it. Everything's here."

I walk into the room. It's stark, bare. But there are books all over the floor and bed and stacked in the corner. "You let him have books out of your library?" I pick one up. Science Weekly.

"Books and magazines. Nothing that would feed his psychosis."

I'm leafing through them. technical manuals, cyberspace, information superhighway, Data magazine, tons of stuff that I would love but The Joker would probably get bored. I don't get it.

"Nothing with Batman in it, anyway," I mutter.

"We even removed the staples from the magazines. You'd be surprised what use an inmate here could find for a staple."

No, I wouldn't. It wouldn't surprise me at all anymore. A staple could be a murder weapon with these psychos.

"This is all computer stuff. Why would this interest The Joker?"

Malwitz shrugs. "Who knows? Maybe he's trying to decide on a career for when and if he rejoins society."

Doubtful. "May I take some of these with me?"

"Don't see why not. Knock yourself out. The guard'll let you out when you're through."

Malwitz is gone. I sit down on the bunk. For a second, the fact that I'm sitting on the bed that Gotham's biggest murderer sat on every night for years, on and off, gives me the creeps. The last time he was sent here was for the murder of Jason Todd, the last Robin before me. That was only a year and a half ago. And that was because Robin tried to take on Joker without Batman. Which is exactly what I'm doing right now. What if the next time he's sent here, it's because of the murder of another Robin, namely me?

If I keep worrying about what I can't change and not looking for clues, I'll never find the Joker. I'm a detective. I'm going to start acting like one.

There's a magazine that is lying open on his bed. Computer Whiz open to an article about Osgood Pellinger. I've heard of him. He's a genius with any type of information system. Mostly interactive software. There's another one with an article in it actually written by Osgood Pellinger. Hm. That's two. And in the stack, there's one with a picture of Osgood Pellinger on the cover. Three. I pick all the ones I can find with Osgood Pellinger in them. It comes out to be almost all of them. The guard lets me out and I head for Bullock's car. Bullock was questioning all the guards. He's already out there and waiting for me.

"What'd ya find?"

"Oh, just some magazines that were in his cell. I figure I'll look through them and see if there's anything in them that might have sparked The Joker's interest."

I don't want Harvey Bullock running into this like a bull in a china shop when I know my way around cyberspace better than anyone the police can boast.

Bullock is staring at me. It's a little in expectation and a little in suspicion and anger that I won't tell him what I'm thinking.

"You'll tell me if you get any leads, kid."

I turn to look at him and try to look hurt.

"Of course!"

"Where do you want to be dropped off, kid?"

"Police Headquarters is fine."

"Okay."

We don't say a word for the rest of the ride, except Bullock cursing at the few cars that had the misfortune to be on Detective Bullock's roads, driving insanely slowly, the speed limit, in front of Bullock's unmarked vehicle. Alfred will be waiting at Headquarters with the van, in the alley.

I really wish I was old enough to drive.