A winding caravan of limousines stretched out to Wayne Manor.
Gentlemen assisted elegantly dressed ladies in getting of their cars. Heels clicked sharply on the marbled floors as people passed from one furnished room to another. Immaculate tuxedoes were seen darting under potted plants. Earrings winked with the brilliance of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies while silken scarves and wraps whipped casually in the breeze.
Champagne flowed along with the music from a ten-piece band at the foot of the grand staircase while folks rubbed elbows with celebrities, politicians, and their illustrious host, Bruce Wayne.
The security guard checked his watch. It was already eight o'clock and most of the guests had arrived. He took a sip of coffee. Then he pulled a rolled-up magazine out of his pocket and proceeded to indulge in a few minutes of relaxation.
A moment later, the headlights of a new car were advancing towards the booth. The guard quickly straightened up and stashed away his magazine. He rolled down the window and stuck out his head just as the black Lamborghini pulled up.
"Name?" he asked, peering into the driver's window.
"Grayson and guests," a smooth voice answered.
The guard nodded in approval. He pressed a button and the iron gates parted with a slight shudder. The Lamborghini rolled forward.
The young man in the front passenger's seat snickered as he sized up the mansion.
"Wayne's sure rollin' in it, huh?" he asked.
"I wonder how much he spends on women," the man in the driver's seat mused aloud.
"Not enough to curb my appetite," said his comrade.
"Easy on the girls tonight, Jay. You too, Tim," the driver ordered his comrades. "We're not having distractions on the job."
His companion knocked his head against the back of his seat. "Gimme a break, Dick."
"Just a little fun won't hurt," the youngest one chimed in.
"No pastries, no cream puffs. We're on a diet," their leader ordered them.
"But Dick-" the kid began to protest.
"Shut up."
The one named Jay shrugged. "Aright, keep your tights on. No need to blow a fuse yet." He opened the door of the Lamborghini and stepped out. "That's my job, remember?"
Dick Grayson, alias Nightwing, nodded at his partners. He took three small pins in the shape of bronze eagles out of his pocket and clipped them to each of their lapels. "These will keep us in touch through all five levels of the house. Robin, you know what to do," he nodded to the smallest one.
Robin, alias Timothy Drake, eagerly pulled out an electronic device that resembled an audio player and sported a tiny keyboard. "Laser systems are secured on all lower three levels. Wayne's keeping the eggs on display in the second room lounge but the safe is on the top floor."
Red Hood, alias Jason Todd, lifted up the side of his jacket revealing a pair of short metal sticks stuck into his belt. "I'll distract the guards," he added. "And hit the punch bowl right after Nightwing covers my back."
"Good. Now if the security system can stay shut down at exactly 10:27 PM like we planned, we'll start transporting the goods off the fourth level balcony," Nightwing ordered his partners.
A smirk crossed their fearless leader's face, causing Red Hood and Robin to grin in response. When Nightwing stretched his hand out, they slapped their on top.
"Party time!" Robin cheered. His delight was short lived when Red Hood hooked his index finger into the back of Robin's collar and tugged sharply. Robin gagged and was halted in his tracks. "Jay," he whined.
"Remember, grasshopper. Be careful around the dames, especially blondes."
"How come?"
"Can't trust 'em."
"What about red heads?" Nightwing suggested.
Red Hood chuckled to himself.
"You make your weakness too easy, Dick."
"You make yours too obvious," Nightwing retorted.
A-A-A
Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin, were the renowned Triad of Trouble in Gotham City. Not even Commissioner Gordon knew the true identities of the three young men who had successfully plundered the bank accounts of Gotham's elite and slipped through the authorities' fingers countless times.
They could have retired a while ago but where was the thrill in early retirement?
Nightwing was their smooth-talking leader who could charm his way through every reporter, secretary, and cop in town.
The former aerialist Dick Grayson lost his parents in a trapeze accident when Tony "Big Boss" Zucco sabotaged their wires. Hellbent on revenge, Grayson used his sob story to get the attention of local (and generous) benefactors until he had successfully climbed his way up the social ladder. Scholarships at elite schools and years of gym-training honed him into a worthy opponent when he finally faced Zucco, nailed the bastard, and emptied his gang's safe.
Red Hood was the most aggressive and creative of the trio.
Jason Todd grew up in the scum of Gotham's underworld when his father tried to weasel his way out of a deal set up by District Attorney Harvey Dent. Jason took advantage of the opportunity by quickly amassing his father's evidence and then presenting it to Dent as a gesture of blackmail. The District Attorney was furious with the little asshole's demands but gave Jason a clean slate. In return, Jason burned the evidence and watched Dent's career advance without a hint of previous scandal.
Though Todd could move about respectable society, he was still known as "The Red Monster" who frequented every back alley dojo whenever the mood struck him. Locals would shudder when "Red Monsters" walked through the door because they knew he'd hand them their asses on silver platters before the evening was out. Even a paper clip was a lethal device in his hands.
Tim Drake was wide-eyed and keen, the pint-sized but nevertheless techno-savvy member of the team.
He has a pretty good life until his parents fell on hard hard times. Tim would have been caught illegally downloading materials to sell if Dick Grayson hadn't intervened and steered Tim into an advanced computer programming course. Jason taught Tim the basics of hand-to-hand combat so he could stand up to the bullying jerks in school. Once he had graduated with honors, Dick and Jason decided to take Tim officially under their wings.
Dubbed "Tiny Tim" affectionately by his peers, Robin's analytic abilities had gotten them out of quite a few tight fixes.
A-A-A-A
All dressed in formal tuxedoes, the young men stepped into the ballroom and began to circulate. Any female eye could catch their attractive figures, noticing Nightwing's broad shoulders, Red Hood's flashing smile, and Robin's large blue eyes.
Robin looked up and whistled at the sight of the chanticleer that rained tiny rainbows of light down onto the guests.
Summer Gleeson was fiddling with her microphone when the cameraman tapped her on the shoulder. "Summer, who are those guys?" he asked her.
The young woman nearly dropped her mike when Nightwing gave her a deep velvety smile."I, I don't know," she stammered. "But they're gorgeous!"
Bruce Wayne was engrossed in a conversation with several pretty women when he noticed two young men approach him.
"Forgive my interruption, Mr. Wayne," Nightwing said in a confident voice. "But my colleague and I couldn't resist complimenting you on tonight's successful event. You are truly an impeccable host."
Bruce's companions twittered with delight.
"I appreciate the flattery," Bruce nodded to Nightwing. "And you are?"
"Richard Grayson." He accepted the hand that was offered to him and shook it firmly. "And this is one of my partners."
"Jason Todd at your service," the second one said with a a sparkle in his eyes. He threw a flirting glance at one of the women who blushed under his gaze.
"Mr. Grayson, Mr. Todd, it's a pleasure to see you both this evening," Bruce nodded to them. "You'll excuse my memory, but I don't recall your names on the invitations that went out."
"Rest assured, Mr. Wayne, we're on the guest list," Red Hood assured him smoothly. (Robin's hacking skills had seen to that.)
Bruce laughed at the reply. "Of course. I didn't mean to interrogate you or your friend in the least bit. What I meant was that I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you gentlemen before."
"We've had some rough months with business," Nightwing explained. "But lately have been making steady recoveries."
"I see," Bruce nodded with interest. "Wasn't there a third involved?"
Nightwing gestured to Robin who was talking to a pretty teenaged girl in a red dress. He was leaning in the doorway and fidgeting in awkwardness.
"Tim's something of our 'computer whiz'," Nightwing explained. "Bright kid for his age who handles our paperwork while we teach him the ropes. I don't know what we'd do without him."
"An apprentice?" Bruce asked.
"More like a sidekick or a partner," Red Hood corrected him.
"Mr. Todd," drawled a dark-haired lady who had linked her arm around his. "Do tell me where you work out. I don't see you around the Platinum Beach Club with my other friends." She walked off with him, rattling to his heart's content. Nightwing shook his head to himself and turned back to Bruce.
"I'll ask you to overlook Jason's faults. Once he starts, he won't ever stop."
"I'll warn my trainer," Bruce said. Nightwing had a good laugh at that.
"If he does make trouble, I'll make sure you're compensated for your loss." Nightwing took out a checkbook. "Which reminds me of an overdue pledge that I owe the Wayne Charity Foundation."
"That's very generous of you," Bruce commented. "What is your line?"
"Security and self-defense classes in Gotham and Bludhaven," explained Nightwing. "Everything is tailored to the customer's needs. For example, some people prefer to hit their attackers over the heads with toy mallets." This comment gave Bruce another hearty laugh and he slapped Nightwing across the back in a friendly maneuver.
"I'm already liking this kid," he smiled to his comrades.
Nightwing tore off the check with a flourish and handed it to Bruce. They'd be reimbursed very well before the evening was out.
"So personal defense is important to you?" asked a young lady. Nightwing noticed he had caught the attention of a charming red headed woman who scrutinized him from behind a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles.
"Well, yes, ma'am. The standard measures of security are important," he said gravely. "Gotham's citizens need to be on guard against dangerous threats like con men and criminals."
"You don't think the police can handle it?" she demanded quite seriously. Nightwing thought she looked even prettier when she was mad.
"I believe the police are not the only forces on night patrol," Nightwing answered vaguely. He offered her a glass of wine from a tray. "Care for a drink?"
"No thank you," she remarked crisply, brushing his shoulder lightly to allow a passageway out of the people. Nightwing watched her shoulders twitch madly as she walked away.
"The commissioner's daughter as a mind of her own," Bruce informed him.
"Sounds like my kind of a girl," Nightwing thought. Aloud he said to Bruce, "I'm curious to know about your program to display the Faberge Eggs". Bruce started to tell him about supporting cultural events just as Nightwing placed his pen in the lapel of his jacket.
The pen's transmitter continued to pick up every word being spoken and send the message directly to Robin on the other side of the room.
"Is something wrong, Tim?" asked the blond-haired girl. He closed one eye with careful scrutiny.
"Damn, Todd", he fumed inwardly. "Leave it to you to spoil my fun." He was starting to like this girl. What was her name? Tiffany or Stephanie something.
"I, I've got to find the restrooms," he said quickly. "S'cuz me."
Robin sprinted down the corridor and came to a halt near the kitchen. A tall slim man in butler's attire had just come out with a tray of appetizers.
"Sir, where's the bathrooms?" he gasped.
"Down to your left," the man informed him. Robin raced as fast he could until he was safe inside the marble covered room. He got into a stall and shut the door behind him.
Robin quickly adjusted the sound on his small pin and put it to his ear. There was a slight buzzing sound so he adjusted the bug carefully.
" . . a thoughtful maneuver on your behalf, Mr. Wayne," Nightwing's voice crackled through the static.
"Please, call me Bruce." The billionaire was as cool as ever. "And just as dumb," Robin thought to himself.
"Bruce it is. And I'm Richard. As I was saying, to have the Faberge Eggs exposed in a private home is not a small feat."
"There are preparations that we have to know in advance. Security was scheduled two months ahead. Wayne Enterprise does boast of its newest laser protection to protect priceless artifacts."
"What if somebody was to come through the roof? The eggs would be endangered." Nightwing asked as a matter of fact.
"Not to worry, Richard."
"You must have a lot of fun on Halloween, Mr. Wayne." That had to be Red Hood.
Robin listened for a few more minutes while Bruce supplied Nightwing and Red Hood on his best security systems. When he was sure that he had gotten all of the information that he needed, Robin turned off the bug.
Robin kept his pen between his teeth while rummaging through his pockets. The young man finally found his hand-held computer and began to tap in the stats. The security cameras fizzled from his interference. He had an itch on his nose but continued to work at the systems. Robin started to toy with the manor's lights and sound alarms, re-programming them to detonate at the times that he had instructed. At last, the small object in his palm gave a tiny bleep of pleasure.
ALL SYSTEMS ENFORCED read the message across the screen in flashing green letters.
Satisfied, Robin took the pen from his mouth. He smiled and put it behind his left ear for a moment while he made sure the computer was safe inside his deepest pocket. "Tim, you're a genius," he said softly to himself. The young man slipped the pen into a fold of fabric under his sleeve.
He came out of the stall and adjusted his tie in the mirror.
A-A-A-A
Nightwing looked over his shoulder to see Robin giving him a confident wink. Nightwing nodded in approval.
"Tim?" the blonde girl called out. She came running over to him on the end of the staircase. "There you are, I was wondering where you were."
"Just drank too much soda before the party," he excused himself. The butler offered them something on a tray that Tim eyed cautiously. "Turnovers?"
"Stuffed grape leaves," the butler responded in a clipped tone.
The teen offered one of the dark green rolled-up leaves to Stephanie and took one for himself. Robin nearly gagged after a single bite.
"Interesting," he mumbled. Robin quickly swallowed down a mouthful. "D'you have any soda at the bar?"
"I'm sure we do." Alfred Pennyworth nodded his head and left the two of them, allowing Stephanie to pick up the conversation with the new cute boy.
"I don't see you around the neighborhood," she said.
"I work with Grayson and Todd," Robin explained. He gestured to Nightwing who had finished his conversation with Bruce Wayne and was now listening to Lucius Fox with great interest.
"Who's that?" Stephanie asked, pointing to a man and woman under the staircase. Vicki Vale was flirting madly with Red Hood who seemed to be enjoying every minute of the attention. She was gushing over him in rapid conversation while his hand was slowly coming towards her waist.
"That's Todd?" Stephanie wrinkled her nose in apprehension.
"Jay's the 'bad boy' of the team," Robin said with a smirk.
"Does that make you the good boy?"
"Usually. Sometimes you've gotta bend the rules a bit instead of breaking 'em."
"You, Boy Scout?" she laughed. "A rule-breaker? I'm just wondering."
One eyebrow arched up at her comment.
"Wondering if I'm trouble?"
"I know trouble when I see it," Stephanie informed Tim.
"And I know a spoiler when I see one," he countered her.
A-A-A-A
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please." The blaring sound from a microphone quieted the chatty crow at once. Everyone made their way to the podium where Mr. Fox was standing.
"Kitchen back door," buzzed the words into Tim's bug. Everybody was so preoccupied with Fox's words that they didn't see the teenager quickly slip to the back and sneak his way into the hallway. Nightwing was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and an index finger tapping his bicep impatiently.
"If Jason doesn't show up in three seconds, we can kiss this deal goodb-"
The doors on the left burst open and Red Hood nearly tripped over his own feet coming in. He stood up and tried to catch his breath while Nightwing pursed up his lips in disapproval.
"What?" he said in defense. "I was just checking out the gardens with Vale."
"Yeah right," Robin smirked.
"Kid, you got nothing on me this time," Red Hood shot at him.
"You've got lipstick on your collar," Robin informed him. Red Hood noticed the small red stain in the shape of lips planted on his tuxedo. He threw a glare back at Robin.
"Why I oughta..."
"Shut up," Nightwing cut in. "You can kiss all the dames you want once we raid and run. For now, just change and listen in."
They unbuttoned their shirts revealing skin-tight black uniforms. In the blink of an eye all three had slipped out of their tuxedoes and into their new roles. Each wore a gadget-loaded utility belt and combat boots. The tuxedoes were foldly up and quickly stashed underneath the sofa cushions.
Nightwing signaled for Red Hood and Robin to listen to their leader. "I'm going to start with the smoke bomb. When they're distracted, it's Tim's job to throw the light show. Jay's going to make the coppers dance a jig while I go up each floor."
"What if they don't buy it?" Robin questioned.
"We do 'Alice in Wonderland'," Nightwing smirked.
"Yes!" Robin said, pumping his fist up and down. He loved doing "Wonderland" ever since he started with the cameras in the malls two years ago.
"Now if you've got any problems, meet up on the third floor. There's enough ivy on the walls to climb down to the backyard and Tim can shut down the security program on the gates. If all goes well, Tim brings the car around and Jay and I will carry the goods down. Any questions?"
"Yeah. Who's driving on the way out?" Red Hood demanded.
"Me. You're smashed, dimwit," Nightwing said.
"Am not," Red Hood argued back. "I only had one drink."
There was little time for Nightwing to argue. He removed three eye masks from his pocket and handed two of them to his partners. Robin quickly plastered the emerald-green one to his face. Red Hood ran a finger along the rim of his own crimson-tinted masquerade to make sure it would stay in place. At last, Nightwing clipped on his own dark blue mask.
They all put their hands in the middle to form the alliance. Then they all broke off, running in three different directions.
Tim had gotten to the basement. He opened up the fuse box and attached a small timer to the display. He clicked in a message to the transmitter. "Shutting down all alarms starting in 20 . .19 . .18 . ."
Nightwing opened up a window and climbed onto the balcony. He jumped up so that his hands caught the base of the next floor's balcony. His early years as a trapeze artist had never failed him and he swung from one wrought iron pole to another as easily as a kid on the monkey bars.
"12 . .11 . .10 . ."
Red Hood drew himself into the shadows behind a suit of armor in the gallery. Two guards in the front didn't see him waiting with his hands on his hips, poised for the attack.
"8 . .7 . . 6 . ."
"And without further ado, I wish to present this year's Achievement Award to Bruce Wayne for his generous philanthropic work and for hosting the Faberge Eggs this evening," Mr. Fox announced.
"4 . .3 . . 2 . ."
Everyone applauded with great pleasure.
Tim pressed one of the buttons with his index finger.
SHOOOM!
The guests were all plunged into darkness. A few ladies screamed and dropped their glasses. There was a scrambling sound as people tried to fumble for flashlights or find the police.
Red Hood jumped out of his hiding spot and cornered the cops. They had hardly turned around when each one was given a taste of metal to the head. With a THUD, the officers were knocked unconscious. Red Hood twirled his weapons around with pleasure.
Nightwing bit the ring off the gas pellet and hurled it into the main room. Thick clouds of smoke started to billow up, sending guests into fist of coughing and choking. Bruce Wayne found himself dragged off the stage by a few people.
"Protect Mr. Wayne! It must be an assassination threat," someone cried out.
"The eggs! They've come to steal them," Viki Vale wailed.
"No, the guests are in danger!"
"Get everyone out of here!"
"Everyone, please calm down," Commissioner Gordon's voice came out loud and clear over the madness. But the Armageddon impact had already affected the coughing guests.
"Where's Mr. Wayne?" he asked, shining a flashlight through the smoke.
"I'm here, I'm fine," the slightly dazed host murmured. He had taken refugee on the floor to avoid the fumes.
Back in the gallery, the two victims were coming to. "Who was that?" one cop grumbled to another. His friend rubbed his throbbing head.
"Didn't see. The guy wore a mask," he muttered. They ran into the main room that was finally starting to fan out from the smoke.
"Some creep in a red mask was seen in the back," he said to Commissioner Gordon. The man furrowed his thick white eyebrows at the comment.
"That's impossible. My men saw a juvenile in a green mask just leaving the basement."
"Look!" Bruce shouted. A third figure in black was hanging upside down out the window. Nightwing waved to them good and clear, knees locked tightly over the bar supporting his body.
The guards aimed their pistols at the window and took fire. The glass shattered into thousands of tiny diamond-like pieces from the intact but Nightwing was faster than the bullets. He had already flipped right side up and was climbing up the side of the house.
Bruce grabbed a cop by the wrist angrily. "I don't want any gunfire in my house," he retorted.
"Sorry Mr. Wayne but it's for your protection," Commissioner Gordon said. "We've got to find those men before they hurt anyone else."
"What about the eggs?" Summer Gleeson questioned.
The commissioner shined his flashlight on a massive display case in the room. The glass case was still intact.
Jim Gordon scrubbed his forehead with a hand. "If they didn't come for that then what are they doing here?"
A-A-A
Red Hood jumped over one cop and drove his boot into the jaw of another. Not enough to break a tooth but the poor guy would be living off applesauce for a few days.
"This is getting sad," he sighed.
Three more had entered fully armed. "Don't move," ordered one of them.
Red Hood cocked his head to one side. "You're going to shoot me with guns?" He shook his finger in disapproval.
"Tsk tsk, what dangerous weapons you're holding, coppers. You should know better."
A spray of bullets landed at his feet. Red Hood somersaulted backwards against the wall. Jumping towards the curtain, he tugged on a heavy velvet cord. The massive drapery fell on top of the cops and they began to struggle to break free. Like a kid in a carnival, Red Hood proceeded to bonk each of their heads and listen to the "Ows!" and "oophs!" like music.
A-A-A-A
Nightwing examined the next window. A flicker of flashlights inside warmed him that the guards were still searching.
He removed a slim metal instrument from his utility belt and slowly started to draw a circle on the window. Then he removed the circular piece of glass, slid his hand in, and fiddled with the inside lock. The door clicked twice before he heard that familiar mechanism spring release the lock. The window swung open freely. Nightwing tucked his body into a tight ball and leapt forward, rolling over gracefully until he came to silent stop in the center of the room.
The red glow of a concealed camera beamed into the back of his head. Nightwing looked up at the camera and smiled.
Down in the security room, Bruce and the police were examining the screens.
"Looks like one of those boys," a cop suggested. "But I can't tell much with his mask."
"Are you certain that only three people have attacked the building?" Bruce asked.
"It seems so," the man frowned.
"Are they armed?" Bruce was deeply concerned.
"Quite possible, but hard to be sure."
Another policeman threw up his hands at the thought of it. "That's insane. Who pulls a heist without even a gun on them?"
Bruce's eyes glinted gently. "Apparently, someone that's good enough."
They all leaned over the monitor displays. "I'm going to see if we can pick up the rest of them on every floor," a cop announced. But when he tried to adjust the camera, black and white fuzz began to blur the screen.
"What in the-" he sputtered, franticly working on the controls. Every single screen started to snap with static. Bruce looked at his best devices that were now useless as, well, just plain useless.
"What are those clowns up to now?" a cop snarled. He banged on the screen madly. They looked at the security cameras. The face of an amused adolescent in a green mask blocked their vision while he made faces into the camera.
"The little brat!" he sputtered. Robin continued to stick out his tongue and making clown faces into the small screen, keeping the guards at bay.
Robin would have made more clown faces had he not been pressed for time. His fingers marched across the keyboard and punched in a new code. There was another blur over the screen and more static. Then the image of a white rabbit in a waistcoat appeared on the officer's screen.
He cursed between his teeth and frantically pressed different buttons. "C'mon, c'mon," he grumbled.
Nothing worked. The bunny smiled serenely back at the team of police officers and an astonished playboy.
A-A-A-A
While chaos reigned below, Nightwing and Red Hood had succesfully made their way to the third floor. Nightwing shined his flashlight down the corridor while Red Hood checked over his shoulder for the cops.
Nightwing kicked down the door to the next lounge with his foot. "Spread out. See if its here," he ordered them. Robin moved his flashlight up and down the room. Red Hood looked under chairs and the bookcase.
"Safe's not here."
"Then it should be on the top floor like Wayne said," Nightwing decided.
They took to the balcony again with Nightwing going first and pulling Red Hood after him. At last they came to the end of their journey in the room adjacent to Bruce Wayne's bedroom and saw the safe in the corner.
"Hello Baby Doll," Nightwing whispered hungrily. He knelt beside the safe and laid one gloved hand on it. "We missed you at the party." Nightwing's ears strained to hear if any more trouble was coming along. He tapped his bug to tune into Robin's report.
"They got my uvula on tape," Robin said into his transmitter. "I'm out the back now."
"We're near the bedroom. We'll load up while you bring up the car around the back," Nightwing told him. He turned his attention back to the safe.
"How long will it take you?" he asked Red Hood.
The criminal untucked his shirt revealing a belt of tools. He selected a lock picker carefully.
"Long enough" Red Hood shrugged. He proceeded to work on the safe's combination.
"Freeze!" yelled a cop. He aimed his pistol at Nightwing and Red Hood. Nightwing's hand lashed out with a stun gun. The guard lost his gun and fell to the ground in pain. "Ow!" he cried.
Nightwing's gloved fist whistled through the air and hit the cop hard in the chest. He bent over sharply from the blow. Another blow at the back of the head and he slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap. "Sweet dreams, copper," Nightwing muttered.
"Almost there," Red Hood said. His fingers nimbly passed over the dial. Nightwing watched his partner work, almost caressing the surface of the safe hungrily. At last, he heard a low clunking sound vibrate from inside the safe. Red Hood nodded to Nightwing. He placed a hand on the door of the safe and breathed in.
"Go!" Nightwing hissed. They jerked the safe open and peered inside. Red Hood watched his teammate shine the flashlight over the contents. "Beautiful," Nightwing murmured softly. Several platinum bars, a pile of estate jewelry, ropes of pearls, and stacks of money lay before them.
"Robin, how much did you say this loot was?" Red Hood whispered into his transmitter. The Boy Wonder gave his calculation back to them. Nightwing looked at Red Hood in bewilderment. Five and a half million dollars lay before them. No, more, as Robin stood corrected.
Nightwing proceeded to remove the contents of the safe and place them into two duffel bags. "Now Bruce will be able to evade those pesky tax laws," he declared happily.
Red Hood fingered a topaz brooch and frowned in disapproval. "Ugh. We'll be doing him a favor by taking some of these tchachkes off his hands."
"Trouble at six o'clock," Robin warned him.
The familiar clicking sound of guns echoed in the doorway.
"Take 'em down," Nightwing muttered under his breath.
"Put down your guns and move away from the safe," the cop ordered him.
Red Hood cocked his head to one side. "Excuse me?"
"I said, drop the guns," the cop ordered him.
"Pppfft!" Red Hood retorted. He held up his hands for all to see.
"Search him," ordered one of the cops. Another shoved Red Hood's hands behind his back and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Red Hood waited until they were close enough to grab a cop by the shoulders and throw him overhead, then send him crashing into the wall.
Another cop came from behind him in the attempt of a tackle but Red Hood saw it all coming. His feet kicked up and rammed straight into the cop's stomach. His annoying partner was less lucky and received the heel of Red Hood's foot squarely between his legs. He hissed, sinking to his knees in agony.
Nightwing overheard the man whimpering over his wounded crouch and sighed. He took the flashlight out of his mouth long enough to chastise Red Hood. "Just for once can you clean up after yourself?" he demanded.
"Got it." Red Hood grabbed the cop by the lapels and dragged him towards the open door. The cop saw the window lead out to the space of five stories between his skull and the hard pavement and stammered a plea.
"Copper, copper," Red Hood soothed him. "I'm not going to hurt you at all."
"You're not?" the cop asked feebly.
"No, I'm just going to ask you a simple question," Red Hood said. "Can you swim?"
"Huh?"
Red Hood released the cop. He screamed as he fell several stories before landing in the deep end of the pool with a thundering splash.
The young criminal rested his elbows on the window seat and watched the guard try to swim his way to the shallow end of the pool. "Didn't think so," he sighed aloud.
"Life can be a disappointment, Jay. Get used to it." Nightwing handed Red Hood a fully-loaded bag.
"Yeah, I just wish they'd learn how not to be such dimwits." Red Hood motioned for his leader to exit through the window first. "Age before beauty."
"Hardy, har har." Nightwing jumped out and grabbed onto the branches of an oak tree. Years of training expertise patrolled his body up until he was safe on the tree. "If I break my neck, its all your fault."
"If you break your neck then can I have your guitar?" Robin asked hopefully.
Red Hood swung a second bag over his shoulder. He grabbed Nightwing's hand and pulled himself into the tree. "Robin, where are you?"
"I'm bringing the car around the back," Robin informed them.
They heard the growl of the Lamborghini and then the car jerked clumsily across the lawn. Robin managed to apply the brakes just before it collided with the tree. The headlights snapped off.
Robin stuck his head out of the driver's seat and wave to them. They waved back and shimmied down the tree.
"That's the last time I teach you to drive stick shift," Nightwing chastised him once they reached the ground. He tossed a bag of loot to Robin.
"So? At least I can drive," Robin said.
"You don't even have a license yet," Red Hood hooted at him. "Gotham City doesn't let teen tots ride anything faster than a bicycle."
"Yeah? Well at least I slowed them down," Robin argued.
"Let's just blow this joint," came the order. Robin and Red Hood clambered into the car. Nightwing turned on the ignition and slammed his foot against the pedal. The Lamborghini took off in a fury.
"What the heck's a uvula?" Red Hood asked.
A-A-A
"Yes, I know. Nine million dollars in cash, precious metals, and jewels have been stolen from Bruce Wayne. No, I do not have it on video, the blasted fools tampered with the security cameras!" Commissioner Gordon hollered into the walkie-talkie.
"It had to be the Triad, who else? That Nightwing moves like a phantom and pulls off heists smooth as silk. Don't even get me started on what Robin and Red Hood did to the systems..."
Bruce Wayne glanced around the library. The broken safe lay discarded on one side of the room. Wind blew softly around him, playfully tugging at the curtains.
"I'm terribly sorry that this happened, Mr. Wayne," the commissioner apologized. "Especially to a philanthropist like you."
"That's the least of my worries," Bruce said. He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "At least these three weren't out to kill me like other lunatics. And who knows? Taking a little of my pocket money might do me some good."
"What?!" Commissioner Gordon was surprised by Bruce's calm reaction. Anyone else in his shoes would have alread exploded in anger.
"They didn't put a permanent dent in my bank account," Bruce said with a shake of his head. "There were plenty of better and bigger traps in the city: museums, banks, galleries...But they chose me. How flattering."
"Flattering? Mr. Wayne, they're criminals!" Commissioner Gordon sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "We'll do everything we can to track them down."
"No matter. From what I've heard, those boys walk away with whatever they want," Bruce said. "They're smart and they work together." If Commissioner Gordon didn't know any better, he may have detected a note of pride in Bruce's voice.
"Mr. Wayne?" he asked.
The man walked over to the safe and touched the handle. A small smiled curled on his lips.
He began to laugh a little. "It looks like I've met my match."
Well played, Grayson.
A-A-A
The car roared down the highway and Red Hood's black hair flapped in the wind, a vicious grin plastered across his face.
"Yahoo!" Robin sang out. He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat. "I knew we could do it."
Nightwing was silently keeping his eyes on the road until he heard the scream of sirens coming up from behind them.
"Cops at 2 o'clock," he shouted.
"Roger. What do I do until then?"
"Jason!"
"Sheesh, Dick. Give me break." Red Hood pulled out an elastic brake, a rope-and-ball mechanism Tim had crafted, from his pocket. He rolled down the window and hurled the device towards the police cars. The rubber snapped and burned making the police car squeal from the impact. It skidded off the road, smacking the other one in the front.
"Score!" Red Hood slid back into his seat. Robin looked on with great awe.
"How's about a thanks from you, Dick?"
"The name's Richard, Jason. If you call me 'Dick' one more time..."
"I know, I know. I won't be able to have kids."
The Lamborghini swerved madly to the left. All three boys shifted in their seats. "Lemme see, lemme see," Robin whined to Red Hood. The older boy handed him a bag of treasure.
"Cripes," he whistled through his teeth. Robin flipped his fingers through a wad of bills. Then he toyed with an emerald pendant.
"This would've looked nice on Stephanie," he said longingly.
"Tim!" Nightwing signaled. "We have to make it to the bridge."
Robin cracked his knuckles with great anticipation. Red Hood watched him open up a laptop. Robin leaned over the keyboard and began punching in coordinates madly.
"We'll hit Johnson Avenue and make a right. I'm programming the next five streets to hit all green," he said.
The next light flickered from red to green in the blink of an eye. "Hang on to dinner, boys," Nightwing warned over the roar of the engine. He swerved the Lamborghini around so hard that Red Hood's face was nearly plastered into the window. Robin's teeth would've landed in the back of Nightwing's neck if he hadn't buckled up.
"Right! Go right!" he shouted, cringing Red Hood's arm tightly.
Nightwing spun the wheel around like a sailor in a storm. The Lamborghini just missed a fire hydrant and set three cars into a traffic jam. Another green light and they just managed to bump into a kiosk. Oranges scattered the streets in a mess of colorful fruit. Without thinking, Nightwing made the tires squeal through them until the windows were splattered with freshly-squeezed juice.
"Oops."
He switched on the windshields to wipe them clean. Robin was clutching at his throat to make sure his breath wasn't extinct. "Heart, you may resume normal pace," he wheezed out.
The Lamborghini slowed down a little. Robin nodded to Nightwing who made a decent turn on the right. Sure enough, the next few of them took off. The Jaguar passed through each light smoothly and without any trouble. At last, the three of them were over the main highway and out of danger. Robin watched the flickering lights of the skyscapers slowly vanish into the horizon behind them. He waved back to Gotham City and sat back down in his seat.
"You made me proud, boys." Nighwing congratulated them from the front seat. Robin and Red Hood eagerly pulled off their masks and slapped high five to each other.
Then a thought irked Nightwing. "What about Veronica Vreeland?" he asked over his shoulder.
"What about her?" Red Hood asked carelessly.
"We didn't bump her off tonight," he was informed.
Robin slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. "Damn it! We gain on Wayne and lose out on the town's biggest red-headed bimbo."
"No we didn't," Red Hood promised his teammates. He jerked a thumb to the back.
Nightwing's jaw dropped open. "Jay, no! You didn't!"
"Did to. They're in the trunk," he declared boldly. "Right off her Mercedes."
Robin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You stole her tires!?"
Nightwing laughed, "Jay, you're a crazy bastard."
"Hey, old habits die hard," Red Hood shrugged.
They listened to the radio for a while but the reports came in that the mysterious robbers had vanished without a trace, leaving the Faberge Eggs intact but successfully making away with private possessions of Bruce Wayne.
"Next week, we're hitting Star City's finest," Nightwing announced. "My pal Harper's the lady killer of the town. He'll help us lie low until we make our next move."
"What about Wally?" Robin asked over his shoulder. "I want to see him too."
"We'll swing by Central City if things go well. But stay out of Metropolis, boys. Wayne's got too many friends there."
The car sped off into the night with the radio blaring away and three boys arguing nonstop.
A-A-A-A
"Are you all right, Bruce?" Selina asked. She poured out a hot drink and handed it to him.
It was almost dawn and everyone else had left. Wayne Manor was finally quiet and peaceful again, which was just way Bruce preferred. Now that the police were done combing the house from top to bottom, there was nothing left for the host to do but let the rooms air out and call contractors to fix damages.
"Aside from a small headache I'm fine," he reassured her. Bruce sank back into his armchair. The house was finally feeling sane again. He actually startled to chuckle before taking a sip of coffee. "We've had quite a show this evening."
"A show? Bruce, they could have blown up your house!"
"Not these boys. Some of the police got a beating but all of the guests are safe and sound. The Faberge Eggs are going back to the museum all intact. From my perspective things could have been much worse," Bruce said.
"What about you? Getting pick-pocketed by some little merry men can't be fun," Selina said sympathetically. She kneeled behind Bruce and drapped her hands on the back of his shoulders.
"My poor, Bruce," Selina purred, gently massaging his shoulders. Bruce gave a deep sigh of relief as her hands soothed his overstressed muscles, easing the burden that had been weighing down on them the last 12 hours. Selina had many talents, some of them still hidden to Bruce, but nevertheless much appreciated.
"It's money, Selina. It can be replaced," he assured her.
"Some people love money," she murmured into his ear. Soft strands hair brushed against Bruce's face when her lips were nearly touching his neck. He turned his head towards her. Selina stopped massaging his back long enough to look him in the eyes.
"I don't," he whispered.
Bruce's hand cup the back of her head. Selina exhaled, closing her dark green eyes when he gently but firmly pulled her closer to him. His fingers casually played through her hair before Bruce pressed his lips to hers. Selina's entire body trembled from his touch.
Well, at least those brats did something right, she thought to herself happily, kissing him back.
A-A-A-A
"Champagne, boys? 1966, a very good year."
"Yes! Thanks, Jay!"
"Not for you, kid. You're too young."
"Aw, no fun, Dick."
"I'm driving here, Jay. I don't want the blasted bottle!"
"Let it go, Tim. I'll buy you a motorcycle, ok?"
"How many times did I say to 'shut up'?"
"A gazillion. Now get that thing away from me."
"Can we recruit a few girls, Dick?"
"Sure, why not? Then they'll blab on us and we'll spend 40 years in prison until we're old and ugly."
"Dick and Barbara sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S . . ."
"I thought you liked that model. Ms. Whatzername? Anders? Kory Anders?"
"I thought I said to .."
"Shut up, we know!"
END