"Hey dude, ready for class?"
Dick opened his door to be greeted by Garfield Logan.
"As much as anyone is ready for an eight o'clock class Monday morning," Dick grumbled. He had stayed up much later than intended and was paying for it now.
"Dude, I have eight o'clocks every day. Quit complaining."
Dick grunted, shouldered his bag, and promised himself a short nap after class. He heard a door open behind him.
"Good morning, Raven!"
"Garfield," Raven droned in greeting. "Dick."
Dick grunted in her general direction with a vague wave. "Jeez, dude, you're not your normal, cheerful self this morning. You okay?"
"Is cheerful 'normal' for Dick?" Raven asked Garfield.
"Well, he isn't usually as sour as you are in the morning."
Raven scowled.
"Let's just…" Dick stepped between them. "Go to class." He then walked ahead of them, and they fell in step behind him.
"Seriously dude, was there some party last night you didn't tell me about?"
"Party? Not really, just a few guys, martinis, and the girls' volleyball team."
Garfield stopped in his tracks, his jaw hanging wide open. Dick smirked and didn't miss a stride. Raven had to suppress a chuckle.
"DUUUUUDE! No fair!"
"He was kidding," Raven informed him monotonously.
"I know," Garfield whined. "But that's a cruel, cruel joke, man."
"I thought you went to a party last night, anyway?" Dick said when he was done laughing.
"What? No dude, just me and Vic playing Magic and videogames and stuff. Which you were supposed to be joining us for, dude."
Dick groaned again. "Sorry, Gar. Something came up." And Dick was sorry. He would much rather play videogames in Victor Stone's apartment than study old case files and microfiche until passing out at his desk.
"What could have possibly been better than GameStation?"
"Studying," Dick answered with finality.
"Studying? For what?"
Dick didn't answer. Raven gave him a sideways glance.
"Dude? …Wait, you don't think we're gonna get a pop quiz, do you? … No way, man. He wouldn't do that to us on the second day of class!"
"Are you forgetting what he did on the first day of class?" Raven asked pointedly.
Garfield groaned loudly. "No way!" He protested half-heartedly. "That's—that's not—that's just mean, dude. No one gives a pop quiz on the second day of class!"
The three of them made their way to class and found once again that they had beaten the professor there. They weren't the first students to arrive, however. The class was already mostly full, and of those who were already there, many appeared to be snacking on something. Dick's eyes drifted to the nice china plate sitting on a desk in the front row with a half-dozen chocolate chip cookies left of what was probably a rather large batch. He resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Instead he shook his head with a smirk and took his seat.
"DUUUUDE! Cookies!" Garfield grabbed one in each hand.
"Are you sure you can just take some?" Raven asked him as she found her seat in the corner.
"They were just left here," one student piped up. "No note or nothing."
"And there's no classes before this so no one's coming back for them," said another, happily munching away.
"They must have been left here on Friday," Garfield concluded.
"They're still good," the first student assured him.
Garfield grinned and shoved the first one into his mouth. Dick pulled his textbook and notebook out of his bag and flipped to a clean page. He silently decided to bring a bag of popcorn to the next class.
Garfield offered his second cookie to Raven.
"No thanks," she said emotionlessly. "You go right ahead."
Garfield shrugged and tossed back the cookie as he found a seat.
Raven's eyes were on Dick the entire time, and how he wasn't even bothering to pay attention…
"Good morning class!" Dr. Cabrini strode into the classroom with purpose. He put his coffee down on the teacher's desk and opened his briefcase. "I have your assignments from last week to hand back to you." He dropped a stack of papers in the lap of a student sitting in the front row. When she looked up quizzically he gestured impatiently, and she jumped to her feet and began passing back the papers. Cabrini stood leaning against his desk and silently surveying the class. He took a slurping sip of coffee and watched them read the comments he'd made.
"I was impressed with some of you and less than impressed with others," the professor said as the girl sat down again. "I think you'll find, if you ask your neighbors, that those of you who read the chapter are the ones who did better on this assignment. Not to worry, though. Since it was our first assignment, and none of you were expecting to have to have the first chapter read before class—" a pointed glance to Dick, who remained impassive— "I will allow you to redo the assignment to try for a higher grade. Slip it in my mailbox by the end of the week and I'll reconsider it."
Dick sat back in his chair and resigned himself to wait for the inevitable. He didn't get his paper back with the rest of the class.
"I hope you all enjoyed last week's exorcise. It doesn't look as though too many of you were frightened away, never to return, simply because an unorthodox professor happened to get the drop on you." A quick glance around the room. Everyone seemed to be listening attentively. He glanced at his watch. Dick forced himself to hide a cringe.
"Well, as you all should have gathered by now, the emphasis of this class is on personality: where we get it, what we do with it, how it's affected and how it affects the world around us and the people we relate to. By now you should have read the first two chapters of the text book, and I hope you're prepared because today we get to fit two chapters worth of notes into one class period."
A few stifled groans. The professor looked at his watch again.
"Notebooks and pens, ladies and gentlemen!" Those who weren't already prepared made themselves so. "Now, if I had actually thought way back when as I was writing this text book that I'd ever be asked to teach from it, I might have been a bit nicer with how I laid it out. You'll all recall that the first chapter was essentially a brief overview of the concept of personality and the second chapter dealt with how personalities are formed. Well, it made sense to outline it that way as I was discussing it with my publisher, but it doesn't really make sense to teach it that way. Those of you who've heard your parents use the old warning against putting the cart before the horse might not have heard them say that it's to protect the poor people following behind who have to avoid stepping in shit—oh, you're all old enough to see R-rated movies right? I can say 'shit' if I want to?"
A few nods, mostly blinks of confusion.
"Good. Now, as I was saying, I'll be giving notes on chapter two first. We'll be examining how human beings develop personality, discussing genetic predisposition versus environmental conditioning, and looking at how specific archetypes of our personality affect our day to day behavior and daily interactions."
Just then a girl in the second row timidly raised her hand. The professor couldn't help but smile as he called on her.
"Uh, may I go to the bathroom?"
"But of course, Miss Rich."
The girl thanked him before leaving the room rather quickly.
"Oh, and anyone else who ate a cookie before class this morning had better go to the bathroom now, so that my class won't be interrupted every two seconds by people asking to be excused."
There was a few seconds' delay and then a few students got up and left the classroom. The professor waited patiently. A few more left. Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats while others looked confused. Dick decided not to draw extra attention to himself and so restrained the laugh.
"I won't be allowing anyone else to leave under any circumstances, so those of you who are left are either innocent of cookie-snatching or have bowels of steel."
A panicked yip from Garfield Logan as he led the pack of remaining students from the classroom rather quickly. Less than a quarter of the class remained.
The professor walked back to his briefcase and pulled out another stack of papers. He handed them out to the students who remained personally and left the remaining stack sitting on his desk. Dick did chuckle this time as he saw a complete outline of chapters one and two sitting in his hands.
"I figured this would make life easier all around," he said as he returned to his desk for a generous sip of coffee.
"What was in those cookies?" One student asked in a mixture of awe and disgust.
"Chocolate flavored laxatives instead of chips?" Dick offered. He didn't bother to mention the half-dozen other ways it was possible to lace a cookie.
"Brilliant deduction, Detective Grayson," the professor quipped as he pulled something else from his briefcase and set it aside. Dick recognized it as his assignment from last week. "Now, can the six of you tell me why you didn't eat the cookies?" He pointed at one student.
"I'm allergic to chocolate," she answered plainly.
He pointed at another.
"I just don't like chocolate chip cookies," he answered.
"Wasn't hungry."
"I didn't want to steal someone's cookies."
Then he pointed to Raven.
"I have no interest in anything that is not mine," she droned.
Cabrini looked to Dick. "I see what you mean."
Raven's eyes flashed. Dick silently wished that he'd used the mass exodus as an excuse to ditch class.
"And you, Mr. Grayson?"
"This classroom is locked all weekend. The janitorial staff would have gotten rid of the cookies—or ate them, Friday night when they cleaned up. They could only have been put there this morning, which means you had to put them there when you unlocked the door, so it was obviously a test to see who would eat them. After all, if you didn't want them to be eaten, you wouldn't have left them just lying around."
A few of the other students began clapping. Dick suddenly wanted the desk to swallow him whole.
"Bravo, Detective Grayson. But all you did was tell me how you deduced the game, not why you didn't eat a cookie."
"Well, given that you're not above videotaping your students without permission, I didn't want to know what you weren't above doing to chocolate chip cookies."
Cabrini grinned. "Touché." He took another sip of coffee, saluting Dick with his cup. "Now, if you'll inspect the notes I've handed out, you'll see how, after giving outlines of what you should know from chapters one and two, there's an explanation of why I put laxatives into chocolate chip cookies. You see, our personality influences our behavior. Keep these things in mind when you read chapter three, Personality and Behavior. Next class we will be discussing everything in depth. And since it's rather futile to lecture to the six of you, I'll see you all next week. Hopefully your friends will have recovered by then."
The professor retreated to the blackboard and left a message for those forced to leave class telling them to grab a copy of the notes and report to class next Monday. The six remaining students packed up their things.
"Oh, Mr. Grayson?" Dick was almost to the door. His shoulders slumped as he turned around. Raven stopped to wait for him outside the door.
"Yes, professor?"
"I'd like to see you downstairs in my office in two minutes."
"Yes, professor."
"What do you suppose he wants to see you about?" Raven asked him as they descended the stairs.
"My guess is it's about last week's assignment."
Raven's eyes narrowed. "You and I need to talk about that," she said, enforced calmness in her voice.
"Sure thing Raven, but get in line."
"Tonight," she said authoritatively.
Dick just nodded. "Great, well talk over disgusting café food."
Raven seemed to accept that. She turned to exit the building without another word. Dick continued on to the professor's office.
"Ah, you must be Richard Grayson. Dr. Cabrini said you'd be dropping by this morning. You can go right ahead and take a seat in his office. He'll be with you shortly."
Dick smiled and thanked the overly perky department secretary and wondered if Cabrini had conducted any caffeine experiments recently. He entered Dr. Cabrini's office tentatively, half-expecting the door, carpeting, light switch, what-have-you, to be booby-trapped. Finding no such obstacles, Dick fully entered the office. His trained eyes surveyed his surroundings, taking note of the haphazardly organized executive's desk and wall-to-wall bookshelves behind it. He made a note to have a closer look at those books for his own reading pleasure sometime later.
Dick noticed the wall decorations next. Numerous diplomas were hung in chronological order against the near wall: a bachelor's, masters, and doctorate in psychology, an additional masters in behavioral psychology, and post-graduate certificates in the study of criminal behaviors and psychological disorders.
Next to the accolades were a few framed photographs: yearbook photos for both of his daughters, one from high school and one from college… the oldest went to Harvard. There was a photo of the entire psychology department taken a few Christmases ago at an office party, one of the professor shaking the hand of the former mayor of Gotham and smiling for the press…
The last photo that Dick noticed—and the one that captivated him the most, was one of Cabrini, Captain James Gordon (judging by the dress uniform), and district attorney Harvey Dent, standing in front of the Gotham District Court clinking champagne glasses.
"What a tragedy."
Dick nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see the Cabrini standing there, whom he hadn't heard enter.
"Professor?"
"What happened to Harvey, I mean. You're from Gotham, I assume you know all about Harvey Dent."
"I know just about as much as everyone else in Gotham," Dick replied casually.
"Really? I thought Bruce would have told you more."
Dick bit the inside of his lip and chose his words carefully. "I became Bruce Wayne's ward not long after Dent's accident. It wasn't a story you tell a frightened and traumatized child."
"No, I suppose it isn't."
Just then there was a knock on the door. "Am I interrupting something important?"
"Dr. Beach?"
"No, no, Frank. Come on in. Richard, why don't you sit down?"
Dick saw his advisor stroll into the office. Dr. Cabrini moved to sit at his desk and Dr. Beach pull a chair over to sit beside him. Dick sat on the loveseat against the far wall with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"You know, you're causing quite a stir here on campus," Cabrini said, his voice neutral.
That sinking feeling sunk much lower. "Uh… Sorry?"
"What do you say, Xavier, about a kid who automatically assumes he's in trouble?"
"Well Frank, I'd say he has a guilty conscience. Do you have a guilty conscience, Richard?"
Dick looked at the two of them and squelched the half-dozen Robin-esque responses that came to mind. "If I'm not in trouble then why am I here?" he asked as innocently as he could manage.
"You are sitting in a meeting with your psychology professor and your academic advisor, but not for any disciplinary or intervening action," said Cabrini. "Why do you think you're here?"
Dick resisted the urge to squirm. "You want to talk about last week's assignment," he concluded. Both professors noted how sure he sounded.
"I'll have you know that your 'assignment' has been the talk of the psych department," Beach added. "Old Cabrini here has finally run out of the appropriate people to impress with it."
Dick looked from his advisor to his psych professor with a bemused air of curiosity.
"Why are you taking my class, young man?" Cabrini asked him seriously.
"It's required for my major, sir," Dick answered as respectably as possible. After all, Cabrini already knew that.
"Don't patronize me, sonny. I'm one of four professors teaching intro to psych, yet you scheduled yourself into my class, even though it meant you had to miss out on the math class Beach here wanted you to take because you could take economics instead. I want to know why you're in my class, Richard, and please tell me there's more to it than showing off in front of your fellow students."
Dick sighed inaudibly as he formulated his response. "Wayne Manor has an extensive library, and Mr. Wayne didn't care what I read so long as I was reading. I've read all your books, Dr. Cabrini, some of them twice. And I figured, who better to learn from than the guy who wrote the book."
Dr. Beach laughed outright.
"You know, I pride myself on being a hardass," Cabrini continued. "Psychology is not an easy field to go into, and you need twenty-seven letters following your name before you can even earn a living at it. I do my best to scare away those lacking the proper aptitude to survive, and it usually works. Freshmen are either intimidated by me or think I'm an asshole."
"Well you are, but that's beside the point."
Cabrini looked daggers at Beach. "You're supposed to be helping!"
Beach raised his hands in mock defeat. Then, to Dick: "What my good friend is trying to say is that you've really baffled him. We've gone over your profile assignment with a fine-toothed comb, and we're mightily impressed by it. Cabrini has run out of the appropriate people to impress with it. And he's already told me about your escapades in this morning's class. We've spoken to your other professors, and they're all saying pretty much the same things. I've had similar conversations with Dr. Long as I've had with Xavier here, and she's asked me the same questions. We all want to know why you're taking introductory level classes when you're obviously educated well above them."
Dick sighed audibly this time and ran his hand through his hair, stalling for time. Bruce—and Alfred, were going to kill him.
"Growing up as the ward of Bruce Wayne meant that I spent more time around adults than I did around kids my own age," he began. "It never really occurred to me before going away to college that my education exceeded that of my peers because I didn't really socialize with them growing up. All my friends were older than me. And with that massive library… I read a lot."
"Never would have figured Bruce Wayne to be the book type," Cabrini commented thoughtfully. Dick bit back a smirk and noticed that Beach didn't try to hide his.
"You're not on some sort of trial here, kid," Beach said. "We don't think you're cheating or anything—we believe that you're as intelligent as you come off in class. We just want to know why you're bothering with the introductory level classes, and please tell us it isn't just for the banal amusement of showing off in front of your classmates."
Dick's jaw clenched briefly but soon the neutral expression returned. "I was forced to miss my senior year due to medical reasons," he explained to Cabrini. As his advisor, Beach would already know that. "If they didn't think I was smart enough to survive college without tackling the summer program first, they sure wouldn't let me try and test out of introductory level classes." Now Dick looked pointedly at Beach. "Besides, I'm just taking what you said I should."
"See what I've had to put up with?" Cabrini said to Beach, only slightly sarcastic.
"I do indeed."
Dick was fairly certain that he'd just been insulted.
"So," Beach looked back to Dick. "What are you doing Sunday, kid?"
Dick barely restrained his eyes from bugging out of his head as he filed away a few flippant responses. "Uh… sleeping?"
"Well if you're as bored with the intro classes as we think you are then stop by here at eight a.m. I'm going to proctor you through an intro to psych final. Then you get lunch and Cabrini will proctor you through the criminology final. Get a B better on either of those and we'll give you that as a grade for the class. You can move onto Further Studies in Criminology with me, and to whatever else Cabrini thinks you can handle with him."
"Take your pick, kid. I'm willing to bet you know my schedule."
Dick blinked a few times in surprise, then opened his mouth with the intent of responding, only to shut it again for lack of something to say.
"We're department heads," Beach continued. "We can do this sort of thing. The dean has already given her okay. All you'll need to do is pass the tests well—"
"Which I know you can do," Cabrini interrupted.
"And we'll take care of the rest. I've already spoken with Dr. Long, and she's excused you from class until the test so that you can prepare."
"So we'll see you Sunday then, because as much as I know you enjoy outthinking me during class, you'd have to be crazy not to take this chance."
"Nothing adverse will happen if you don't do well, so you have nothing to lose."
"Sunday morning?" Dick asked at last.
"Our exams take hours," Cabrini said casually. "The weekend would be the best time to do it. Frank and I are taking time out of our busy lives to arrange to be here for you, so don't complain."
Dick graciously forced a smile to his face. "Sunday works for me."
"Good," said Beach. "See you at eight."
"And then I'll see you at two," Cabrini added. "Now, run along and call home, or tell all your friends, but make sure that the next time I see you you're prepared to take one of Beach's finals. They aren't easy, lots of writing."
"That's his way of telling you to get out of his office, kid."
Dick stood hastily, nodding. "Yes, Dr. Beach… Dr. Cabrini. Thank you." And he was gone before they had the chance to change their minds.
"Do you think he'll pull it off?" Beach asked.
Cabrini shrugged. "Dunno, but it'll be fun to watch him try."
Dick made his way up to his dorm room after class ended for the day. It was still a bit early to grab Raven and head to the café, and after the day he's had he really wasn't in the mood to be lectured by her based solely on a throwaway comment by the professor. Yet still, he wanted to clear the air between them, and he said he would, so he walked across the hall and knocked on her door. After a moment she opened it, just wide enough to stick her head through.
"Change of plans. Instead of the café it's going to be ordering pizza from my room, and I'll love you forever if you've read the psych book."
Raven blinked several times. "That must have been an interesting meeting…"
"I'll tell you about it over pizza, and you can tell me whatever it is you need to tell me while we wait."
Raven blinked a few more times. "Let me get my shoes…"
Dick and Raven sat on the futon, a mostly eaten box of pizza between them. Dick had explained to Raven how he had deduced the profiling assignment and thought to get a head start on the probable work by profiling the class, which is how he came to have profiled her before the actual assignment was given. Raven accepted Dick's explanation and believed him when he told her that Dr. Cabrini didn't give the assignment back to him. Of course she demanded—er, requested that he tell her everything he said about her, but when Dick told her, Raven found that she couldn't argue with his assessments of her. That had her quietly fuming for a while, but only because she couldn't fault him for stating the truth. In fact, Raven found that she really had nothing to fault him for, and as soon as she realized it the evening progressed in a much smoother fashion.
With that little hiccup cleared, Dick told Raven about his meeting with Dr. Cabrini. He told her about how Cabrini brought his advisor in on it, and how the two of them conspired to allow him to try and test out of his intro level classes. Raven was… impressed… with this revelation. She knew Dick was smart, and really he did deserve this chance. She was… proud… of him for getting the opportunity to shine and… respected… how brilliant he was. Since Raven doesn't do jealousy, everything was fine. She even volunteered to help him study for the psych final, since she has already read the book.
Raven and Dick mapped out a plan for how he would cram for two finals by Sunday. Dick was beginning to think that he could pull it off. He'd have no social life until Monday, but what's a social life compared to finishing two college courses in three weeks? On Monday Dick will celebrate; then when he learns that he passed with flying colors, he'll look into the two classes he'll be taking to replace the completed ones. Then, he'll be cramming like mad to make up three weeks worth of work in those two advanced classes.
On second thought, Dick had serious doubts that he could pull it off. In fact, taking on the entire League of Assassins single handedly was looking like it had better odds than his surviving this semester alive.
Of course, Dick couldn't bemoan his future for the entire night. He had homework for his three other classes to do.
"I should go…" Raven stood and stretched. Dick had been so engrossed in his economics book that he didn't even notice when she finished her novel.
"Hmm?" He looked up, surprised.
"I should go," Raven reiterated. "The news will be on in a few minutes."
Dick looked quickly at his clock and then groaned exaggeratedly. His sociology homework involved watching the news… something about identifying target demographics…
"I didn't realize it was so late…"
Raven half-smirked. "I'd rather not read with the television distracting me, and since it's your homework…"
"Yeah, yeah," Dick stood as well. He grabbed the pizza box and carried it over to his small table. "Thanks for your help," he called to her.
"No problem," Raven droned as she exited his room.
Dick sighed and put the last few pizza slices on a plate. These he haphazardly covered with plastic wrap and put in the fridge… lunch for tomorrow. That took him until exactly ten p.m., when the news was on. Dick sat back down on the futon and grabbed the clicker. He found the channel just as co-anchors finished their opening banter.
The late-breaking news was fairly standard, the national news held nothing exciting, and the sports and weather were informative but forgettable. All in all, Dick thought it to be a pretty average news day.
Then the cultural segment aired.
This is Faith Monroe reporting live from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where the exhibit on ancient Egypt is slated to premiere on Friday. The exhibit has been touring the globe for the past four months, but this is its first trip here to the U.S. It's making its American debut here at the Met before heading down to the Smithsonian for an extended stay.
The two beautifully sculpted sarcophagi containing the mummified remains of the twin sons of Pharaoh Amanotep the Second form the centerpiece of the exhibit. You can see the twin sarcophagi on the Dias behind me. As you can see, the Dias itself is a work of art, with a detailed mosaic in semi-precious stones set in bronze in a depiction of the moon as it moves into Gemini.
The Egyptian exhibit, a fine example of later period Egyptian religious iconography and art, is expected to draw record crowds here at the Met, and the museum staff couldn't be more excited. Let's take you now to Peter Ng inside the museum…
Dick had already abandoned the television in favor of his laptop. He was already logged into the Bat computer by the time Peter Ng began interviewing the exhibit's director. By the time the news was over, Dick had closed the laptop and had his head in his hands.
The reason he wasn't thrilled with the concept of an exam on Sunday morning wasn't because it was a Sunday morning. It was because he was planning on being in Gotham on Saturday night. Saturday was the second anniversary of the last time Harvey Dent—aka Two-Face—went toe to toe with the Dynamic Duo. Or more specifically, it was the second anniversary of the night Batman had to rush a bleeding and unconscious Robin to Leslie's clinic. He had been fighting more goons than he could handle, and the downhill spiral started with a separated shoulder and ended with a forty stitches and a concussion, but at least he distracted Harvey enough for Batman to take him out and leave him tied up for the GCPD.
Harvey escaped from Arkham two weeks ago, and hasn't been heard from since. Dick just knew that the psychopath was planning something special for Saturday, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what, even after multiple all-nighters spent researching. However, Dick knew that he'd be in Gotham for Saturday, come hell, high water, or angry obsessive vigilantes. It was personal. Two-Face was his!
Now it looks like Robin doesn't have to go to Gotham after all. Two-Face will be in New York for the second anniversary of the last time Batman busted him because of the interference of the Boy Wonder. The second anniversary is also the second night of the Egyptian exhibit at the museum, where twin mummies on a Gemini Dais will be displayed until Dent tries to steal them.
When he does, Robin will be there to stop him.
Dick groaned loudly and ran his hands through his hair. Two-Face must know he's here—every tabloid had captured images of Robin's swan dive into traffic last week, so there goes his element of surprise. Dick has five days to figure out Two-Face's plan and engineer a way to stop it, all without giving any more clues of Robin's whereabouts.
Dick would bet his final two cents that Two-Face is eagerly anticipating Robin's attempt to foil his plans. Robin would foil them, Dick swore. Robin would learn the plan, foil the plan, take out the bad guy, and prove once and for all to himself and to Batman that he has what it takes to be a hero.
And all of this in between studying for two finals that he'll have to take the morning after.
"If I fail my tests, Harvey, you're gonna wish you were dead…
…
…
"If I fail my tests, my former FBI professors, for criminology and psychological profiling, are going to be able to guess what I do in my free time...
…
…
"Bruce is going to KILL me… again."
