Disclaimer: Batman, Robin, and all related persons, places, and things belong to Bob Kane, DC comics, Warner Brothers, and several others (I'm sure) none of whom are me.
A/N: Well I've been completely bogged down by School and related activities, but i did finally get to watch a few episodes of the Adam West TV show. I loved it! Then, of course I was depressed by my large amounts of work and got to thinking... What would have to happen for the Adam West Batman to turn into our beloved, dark, brooding 'hero' of today? Read on for my depressing answer.
A Death In the Family: 1966
He's dead… and part of me desperately tries to deny it, but how can I deny it when it happened in my arms? My boy. The son I never had, the boy I never was. My fault. I accept the responsibility. I failed to teach him control. He was always set on telling one last joke and parading around in those bright colors, a perfect target. I should have seen this coming. This isn't a game, it never was- when did I forget that? Of course he made it easy to, and I, fool that I was, went along with.
Well, that's over now. No more jokes, no more wise cracks, no more terrible puns. No more of those ridiculous bat prefixes he insisted on using. So much had changed in my life because of him. Perhaps too much. Too many risks were taken, some needlessly. The phone line to the manor, the red phone on my desk, all the pictures and videos of us in action, the uncovered 'bat' mobile, walking plainly down the street. Unacceptable, but accepted. No more.
They found me with his body. He was there in my hands and he asked me to save him. He trusted me to, but I couldn't. My belt didn't hold enough miracles to save him and he died. In my arms. That was where they found him. O'Hera was crying as he set off after the criminals- the murderers, the ones I allowed to escape to stay with my boy. The commissioner was silent; it wasn't until the funeral that he asked if there would still be a Batman without a Robin. My answer was simple: there had to be.
All Gotham knows that Robin is… dead, so I arranged that 'Dick Grayson' be sent to a privet academy in the Alps. In six months time, give or take a week, he'll be 'killed' in skiing accident. Of course no one will be able to view the body. Poor Aunt Harriet, the news will break her heart, but no more then this long pretense will scar my own.
As I take care of these… necessities… Alfred is occupied with the construction of my new costume to my own exacting design. Armor must be included, that much has been made painfully, painfully clear. What little color there was will have to be sacrificed to aid the Batman's new Modis Operandi. I haven't specifically discussed my plan with anyone, not the commissioner, not even Alfred. Of course I would have discussed any changes with my partner before making them, but- if he were then no changes would be happening, would they?
I should explain the changes to the Commissioner. It would be the right thing to do, it's what Alfred or…Robin would tell me to do. I should, but I won't. I can't. But he's a smart man, smarter than most give him credit for. When the 'bat' line goes dead it won't take him long to figure out the reasons why. As for myself; the legend has been neglected, criminals no longer feared my name. Perhaps if they still had… I will put the fear back in their hearts. They have taken away my son, and in doing so have also striped away the caped crusader, now only the Dark Knight remains.
I am sorry, Dick, old chum. I know you wouldn't have wanted this, but one thing I have realized in my time on this earth is that we rarely ever get what we want, even after death. The Batman is now and forever, a creature of the night.
The End