Sweet Revenge

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Yep—I had to write this because Bruce is the vengeful type—and if you disagree with that then shame shame! Watch the show…if it still airs…I actually miss it…This is the same summer—same Richard! I don't know why I keep repeating that, but it must be because I load up on sugar in order to write something funny. If you think these stories are hilarious, I must have switched bodies with someone. I swear to God—I can't write humor…honest.

Let's go—

Bruce wasn't the type who picked on children, but a habit of avenging himself and others was something he would never break. It didn't matter how many times he told himself over and over again that Richard was just a little kid who had made that mess by mistake…he couldn't help himself. He—and he learned this from the Joker—had to always have the last laugh. No questions asked—no arguments made—he was the leader and like hell he was going to let some kid get the best of him.

He wasn't going to hurt the kid—nothing that would make him hurt or cry—but he had to do something that would make Richard scream in panic or get so furious that the tips of his ears turned red. And, not to mention, it had to be Alfred-proof, something that he could avoid getting in trouble for much like Richard did when he started to pout and pretend he was innocent and sorry. Richard still had no idea how long it took Bruce to clean up the paint. Then there was the matter of trying to wash it off his body…

Returning home from another late night patrol, Richard stumbled to change and ready himself from bed, stifling a yawn every then and again so no one would worry about him. Alfred always worried and Bruce took advantage of that, sending the boy to bed as soon as possible when he could. When Richard woke of cranky, ever Bruce hesitated to talk to him…

But it was the summer and Richard could think up of more reasons not to go to bed that actually made sense. So, when he was lucky, he would sit in the living room and read a book to the best of his ability, which was rather high when he thought about how hard everyone made him study at school. Bruce took this time to sit on the couch adjacent to the boy and stared at him secretly as he pretended to read the newspaper.

"Is today Sunday?" The boy asked out of the blue, looking up from his book.

Bruce paused. "…It's Tuesday morning, why?"

Richard cocked his head to the side and stared at the newspaper Bruce held, squinting to read the fine print. "Then why are you reading the paper from Sunday?"

Pausing again, Bruce took a shot at a random idea. "I'm reviewing the old stocks."

"Okay…" The boy looked back at his book—and then stared back at Bruce. "Hey, aren't the markets closed on Sunday?"

Good point…

"It was a special day." He muttered. "And how do you know that the markets aren't opened on Sunday?"

"I think you told me…" The boy trailed off but, as tired as he was, accepted Bruce's false excuse and continued to read.

Then Bruce got an idea.

He cocked his own head to one side and stared at Richard hard for a moment as he decided how it would be done. It was actually quite brilliant, and he wouldn't have been able to think it up if it hadn't been for Richard.

Sometimes Richard was too smart for his own good.

-B-

"Watcha do'in?"

Sitting at his desk in the Batcave, currently talking to Alfred, he looked up as his ward started his decent down the stairs toward them. Alfred shot Richard a warning glance at the horrible sentence and Richard corrected himself.

"Uh—I mean, good morning, everyone."—A cough to clear his voice—"What's going on?"

"Break in at an old warehouse." Bruce explained, showing his ward a picture of the place as Alfred walked away, a concerned and disapproving look on his face as he stared at Bruce.

He could know that quickly!

"What'd they take?" The boy asked, the familiar gleam in his eyes when it came to solving a mystery or crime. "Do you know who did it?"

"No clue, but that's why we're checking it out tonight. You're not too tired, are you?"

"Are you kidding?" The kid laughed, handing the picture back to Bruce. "I live for this stuff."

True…

"Oh yeah." Bruce grinned. "I forgot to tell you that you still owe me for the paint.

Richard grinned, savoring the fact that for once he won against Bruce. It was a rare occasion and the pleasant feeling of it wouldn't last for long once Bruce got his revenge.

"I'm just glad it wasn't blue." The boy said, ignoring the fact that Bruce was still slightly angry. "I hate blue."

"Tastes change with age." Bruce sighed, turning back to his work. "Just watch—when you're older you'll ditch the green, red and yellow to switch to maybe…Blue?"

Richard made a face at the thought, but shrugged. "As long as I don't get caught in your morbid style of pure black…" He replied as his sight drifted off to the display cases holding the Bat suit.

"Morbid?"

"Don't play games." Richard laughed. "You look like the Grim Reaper at times."

Bruce shrugged, his ward leaving for the stairs. "That's good—I'm supposed to look menacing to the crooks."

"I meant without the suit."

And then he chased him up the stairs.

-R-

"This the place?"

It was pretty quiet and as dark as hell. The building stood by broken streetlamps and Robin honestly doubted his small flashlight would help him much in this place. From what he could see in the night, it was as broken down and busted as any other place he had been to to inspect and what villain in his or her right mind would pick this dump as his hideout?

Probably a newbie—and that was good, because the younger they were, the easier they were to fight.

"I'll check the upper floors." Batman said in his usual dark tone of voice when he acted as his alter ego. Taking the grappling hook from his belt, he aimed high and took a shot at the building as Robin stared calmly at him. "You start in the main floor—and make sure to check everywhere."

Honest to God, he was contemplating apologizing to the man for the paint stunt, but he really did think Bruce needed to be the loser every once in a while. And so he kept his mouth shut as Bruce shot up toward the roof.

Sighing heavily, he started toward the door.

If he thought the outside looked bad, the inside was even worse. Broken furniture, shattered glass, the occasional beer bottle lying here and then, graffiti just about decorating anything left in one piece—how could any villain hide out here? The was no room!

The heavy scent of alcohol was getting to him and he stepped over a pile of old papers toward the only door on that level. There were really only two levels—the wide open space where machinery once stood and the catwalks above him where workers and inspectors crossed. The door was probably an old office and that could have been probably used for something.

Rats scurried above and Robin stepped back just as one fell to the ground before him. Looking up at one of the catwalks, he saw something black move above followed by the brief shot of two white narrow eyes pinned on him.

There was Bruce.

Robin started toward the far door and opened it cautiously, watching for anything suspicious. But he found nothing. Stepping into the room all he found was a dusty desk and…a small wooden soldier standing upright on top of it. It was perfect—nothing like the dust or alcohol there to ruin it.

Taking one more look around the room, he finally strode over toward the desk and stared at the soldier. In front of it was a little letter, and this he picked up.

From Bruce—

Forgiven.

Oh…so maybe Bruce didn't expect him to apologize out in the open because he didn't either.

Still felt odd.

He sighed and picked up the wooden soldier, wondering why on earth Bruce did that. It was then that he noticed the string tied to the back of it, hissing under strain.

"Aw, shucks."

And the splash of blue paint came crashing down on him from above.

-B-

Finding nothing of importance that night, they returned to the cave where Alfred just about had the scare of his life.

"Master Dick, what in heaven's name happened to you!" The butler exclaimed, looking Richard over as the boy removed his mask. He was covered from head to toe in the beautifully dark blue paint that covered every single last hair on his head. His eyes were protected by his mask and his legs were pretty okay, but that fact that Bruce got revenge on him was still a sour taste in his mouth.

When Alfred left to get the towels, Richard turned sharply toward Bruce and opened his mouth to protest against the prank.

"You look good in blue." Bruce said before his ward could speak. "Matches your eyes."

"I can't believe you!" Richard argued. "That was so uncalled for!"

"But I forgave you."

"Yeah…"

"And you didn't even say sorry."

"Yeah, well I never expected you to pick on a kid."

"Hey—you snuck two kittens into the house. What made you think I wasn't allergic?"

"But still."

"And, besides…it's fun outsmarting a kid."

He expected a comeback but Richard only shrugged and dropped the subject as he ran up the stairs to find Alfred. He said nothing more after that and he didn't return to the cave as Bruce worked on a new case. The whole "abandoned warehouse" thing was a fake—of course, but Robin was such a keen trooper when it came to hunting down the bad guys. It would be just like him to fall into such a trap…

He regretted coming upstairs.

Tired, eyes sore from staring at the computer screen for so long, he finally decided it was time for bed and made his way up the cave stairs toward the main floor. There was a light on in the main entrance to guide him if he needed it, but Alfred should have known by now he didn't need it. He practically saw in the dark.

Richard didn't.

It wasn't until he heard the creak to his left on the tall cabinet that he noticed Richard smiling down on him—pouring the bucket of paint down on his mentor. Paint was fine…but pink?

Jumping down from the cabinet, Richard grinned at Bruce and handed him the bucket of the can. "I might be a kid, but at least I'm smart enough to need a well-devised plan to outsmart me."

An insult…and not too bad.

He could tell why Richard was pretty angry at him. Not only had he been covered from head to toe in blue, but his hair still held some of the colour. In the faint light, Bruce could see the dark rich colour and it wasn't too bad on the kid—but the again, Richard liked his black hair and actually hated blue. It was no wonder he used pink.

And Bruce hoped to God that it wouldn't stain his hair.

"'night." Richard said and strode past him—just as Alfred walked in the other end of the living room.

"Master Bruce!"

"It was Richard!"

Another disappointed shake of his head and Alfred had Bruce cleaning up the mess—again! Richard was a free man once more, "AND" he outdid Bruce twice. That called on for a worse revenge…

Ebony, sitting in the dark on the edge of the couch, cocked her head to the side and meowed.

"I know—I know…you'll see…"

-A-

HA! These are the one-shots that never end! Mwah ha ha ha ha ha! Sorry—just wait for the next one-shot!

Until Again,

Alexnandru Van Gordon