Robin is owned by DC of course. It was planned for just a one off story but as people seemed to like it I thought I would continue it. I would like to thank Cmar for beta-reading this chapter and the previous few chapters and all the reviewers. All reviews welcome!

Chapter Four - Robin's advice

I screech the motorbike to a halt and get off the motorbike.

"Mathilda, you drive," I say to her.

"What? Where are you going?"

I look back at the jumbo jet fast approaching.

"Keep going to the prom, I'll be with you shortly."

"What, you can't just…"

"GO!" I push the motorcycle forwards. As the plane flies low overhead I aim a grappling hook at the wheel and use the retractor mechanism to attach myself to the wheel. This wheel is filthy! They could clean it before they leave the airport. Below me I can see my motorcycle swerve violently as Mathilda tries to take control. She loses her hat. Whoops. She'll probably blame me for that as well. I sigh. Being a hero is a thankless task. I clamber up the wheel I'm on. The plane is getting lower and lower. There are whip crack sounds as it pulls telephone wires from the streets and breaking sounds as the wings take out various chimneys. I clamber up the wheel and into the superstructure. The plane is sealed here from the cargo area. Or rather was sealed. A small amount of plastic explosive from my utility belt later and I'm in the cargo area. I crawl quickly through the underbelly of the plane. Below me I can hear the screech of brakes and the start of police sirens. In seconds I am through a trapdoor and into the plane itself. I race up the empty aisle towards the cockpit. Either side of me I can see trees and houses. This plane is getting way too low. I scissor kick the door of the cockpit open and grab the controls of the plane.

"Timmy, you came!" purrs the voice of Haylee. "Please take me higher!"

I grab the controls of the plane and pull the plane into a steep climb. My ears pop as the plane gains altitude. The sounds of the street below quickly disappears. I turn the plane around. In the windows to the right I can see the skyline that is Gotham.

"You are one hot boy, Timmy!" says Haylee.

"And you are one psychopathic computer," I say. I look at my watch. The prom is in fifteen minutes. There is a computer navigation station to my left. I quickly plug my pen drive into the usb port and download an agent. It is something I wrote some time ago. It is a search and destroy agent. With a button press I send it hunting the Internet after Haylee.

"My mind is going! No, Timmy! I love you!" There is a strangled cry as the agent starts its work, destroying all traces of her on the zombie network she set up. I point the plane out to sea where it can crash safely. Apply some plastic explosives to the window. The window blows and I'm sucked out of the plane at 30,000 feet. Good, I think. I'm still over Gotham.

I roll over in midair and I get out my phone. One quick call to Superman and all will be fine. I smile, it's who you know in this world. The phone rings.

"Hi," says Clark Kent.

"Hi, it's Tim. I'm falling out of a…"

"Hello?"

"I said Hello. Listen I've just fallen out of a …"

"Is there anybody there?" says the voice of Clark.

"Yes! I'm here! Please listen…"

"Are you playing a joke on me?"

"No Clark! Please listen…"

"Well I'm playing a joke on you! I'm not in at the moment. If you'd like to leave a message after the tone…"

Needless to say I do leave a message, mainly about Kryptonions having no sense of humour. I didn't realise how many swear words I knew. It is when I was at about 20,000 feet that I realise there are a few key differences between myself and Superman. Besides the obvious: height, weight and super strength; is the flying thing. Woo, my name's Superman, I can fly, I can hold up a train. Woop de doo! There were certain situations when it would be nice to fly. Now anyone who has ever thrown himself or herself out of a plane would say a few simple things. One, don't open your mouth, the slip stream will dry it out. Two, don't spin around too much, you can make yourself sick and possibly impede the parachute. As a side note, being sick in freefall is not a nice thing. You might land safely but if you land ahead of your vomit you will suddenly find the party invitations dry out. Three, and this is the most important: wear a parachute. To be fair this is obvious and most people who have jumped out of a plane with a parachute don't mention it because the people who didn't are generally spread over half the state and aren't in the mood to speak.

I roll onto my back in midair. I look at my watch. Besides from the time (hmm ten minutes to go till the prom, two minutes till I hit the ground), it tells me my altitude. Mmm. Fifteen thousand feet. Probably two minutes until I hit the ground. Plenty of time for a phone call! I take my mobile out and call Mathilda. I look at the screen on the mobile. It shows a small map and the location of my bike. I pull my arms towards my body tilt my body and start accelerating towards where she is. Come on Mathilda! Pick up the phone!

"Timmy, is that you?"

"Yes!" I shout, the wind immediately drying my mouth out.

"Where did you go? Where did that plane go? Where are you now?"

"I had to get something. I'm about ten thousand feet from you." I look at the map screen on my mobile. The motorcycle is still moving slowly down the road. She is next to the Gotham park. Perfect. "Can you get off the bike?"

"Okay, Timmy."

The bike stops. I look at my watch. Five thousand feet. Below me I can see the criss-cross streets of Gotham. Small pinprick size lights are just starting to come into focus. I check my watch again. Four thousand feet. I am falling at around 120mph. I check my utility belt again. For some reason Bruce, who – let's be honest - if an ancient Egyptian mummy woke up and started causing chaos in Gotham while saying, "I can only be beaten by the venom of the lesser spotted stink worm which died out two-hundred thousand years ago in Guatemala," would have a handy vial of the stuff in his belt. I am falling at about 120 feet per second now and he didn't pack a parachute. I am tempted to phone him in my last few seconds and shout at him for his short-sightedness only he might answer back.

I check my belt. I only have one grappling hook with me. I would normally have more but it ruins the cut of my figure. There is no point in standing with your back to a girl and knowing she is admiring your well toned rear end if it is covered with gadgets and grappling hooks. Because of that attitude I only have one grappling hook and only one chance. At this speed if I use the grappling hook to stop my fall it will rip my arms out. Not a good thing, especially because I want to use them to wrap around Mathilda.

One thousand feet. Nine hundred feet. I can make out the cars. Eight hundred feet. Seven hundred feet. I can start to make out people. Six hundred feet. I am above the park. I can see Mathilda standing there! Five hundred feet. Four hundred feet. I aim the grappling hook at the top of a skyscraper. It catches and I start swinging towards the streets. Before the line pulls tight and I lose my arms I let go. Three hundred feet. There is a flagpole I spin around twice to slow my momentum. I am sent spinning towards the ground. Two hundred feet. One hundred feet. I drop past a nice floral window display on a balcony. I grab a bunch of out of season daffodils as I fall. I kick the wall of the skyscraper behind me sending me hurtling over the street. Fifty feet. There is a lamppost there. I grab the top with my one free hand. Spin around twice to slow myself down. Curl one leg around the post and slide down to ground level right next to Mathilda who was looking in the wrong direction to see this dazzling display of aerial acrobatics.

"Ta Da!" I say and hold the bunch of daffodils out to her. I've saved the world from the wrath of Haylee and her nuclear missiles, saved Mathilda from a plane landing on her and saved myself from a fall of thirty thousand feet. I feel pretty good about myself. She slaps me.

"That's for losing my hat!" she says. I look at her hair. To be fair, hiding it with a hat was a good idea. Although it might be that the impromptu motorcycle ride and the jet engines of the jumbo could account for her hair sticking out all over the place and the soot marks on her face. She slaps the other side of my face; well at least they are both the same colour red now. "That's for wrecking my house." She then kisses me. "And that's for the flowers." Great, now she has got soot on my face.

"Thanks, sweetness." I look at my watch. "We've got two minutes to get to the prom." I get on the motorbike. "Get on, babe, we're going."

I roar through the streets weaving through the traffic. The school prom is up ahead. My bike is a Kawasaki ZX9R Ninja. One more slight problem. I had accidentally invited Bethany, another girl, and Phil to the prom with me. How to get out of this with the minimum of pain? I also need to get Bethany with Jake. I can't see Jake. He said he would get me tonight. I can see the queue for the prom and Phil and that girl waiting outside. They haven't seen me yet. I roar round the back of back of the building.

Mathilda taps me on the shoulder. "Why aren't we going in the front?"

I park the bike behind the building, slide off the bike and lift her off it. "We aren't going in the front way because of the photographer there. I'm only thinking of you. We don't really want a picture of you with that hair."

She looks at me with her mouth agape. I pinch her face and waggle her head affectionately. "I'm only thinking of you." I smile at her. "You don't want the only reminder of this evening to be a picture of you looking like you have been dragged through a bush, an oily patch, and a heap of terrible garments, backwards." She looked strangely shocked at this. Women. Can't handle the truth. "I'm only saying that because I like you." I push her through the window of the toilets. There is a splash sound from the other side.

"Where are you going?" I hear her say from the other side.

"I'll be with you shortly, just a minute." I run around to the other side of the building. Saving the world and myself from a fall from a plane without a parachute was the easy bit… Now life was going to get tricky…