The view from the prison camera that Dick had hacked into was still showing on one of the Bat-computer's screens. Batman needed to hear it from the boy, not discover it on his own, so Alfred walked over and flicked off that screen.
How Dick had figured it out was a mystery. He had been "playing" in the Bat-computer and just discovered it? That didn't make sense; Batman had worked on it several times in the last month. The nine-year-old was smart, but certainly not as intelligent as a grown man with years of various experiences under his belt.
Then again, Dick really had nothing else to do – his basic job was staring at screens on the machine. Obviously, the boy was bored and had decided to make things more interesting for himself. What better way to entertain yourself than figuring out how to do something that even Batman couldn't do?
Alfred sighed and shook his head. The boy was right, Batman wasn't going to be happy about this. But at least it was diverting Dick's attention from fighting. Somewhat, anyway. He asked at least three times a week but that was better than the every day that it used to be.
With another sigh, the butler began wiping down the keyboard and screens. Perhaps he shouldn't allow Dick to have cookies while in the Batcave. The child had left bits of chocolate chips all over the machine. But everything was washable so there was no harm done. Besides, the cookies kept him in the chair instead of wandering around and ending up on the training mat.
The quickest way away from Wayne Manor, and the least conspicuous, was through the forest just outside the eastern gate. However, that was also in the opposite direction of Penguin's current location. Should he risk the long run across the front lawn, under the watchful eyes of both Bat-cameras and regular cameras? Or should he go directly to the forest, where there was only one Bat-camera and less lawn?
Dick decided to go west. There were more cameras and he would be in view for several minutes instead of less than one minute, but he would also be closer to Penguin. So, with a quick glance around, the nine-year-old sprinted across the front lawn, staying as close to the walls as possible.
He was halfway to the road that would take him toward Gotham City when he thought of something. The western road joined another road about a mile away from the Manor. And that other road just happened to be the one that the Batmobile used to get to the Batcave.
"East it is," Dick whispered as he turned around and sprinted toward the forest.
He made it into the trees in less than forty-five seconds but didn't stop running. The nine-year-old knew he needed to be as far away as possible by the time Batman returned. It would be easy for any car, but especially the Batmobile, to catch up to him if he slowed down even a little.
The trees thickened and the already dark night became darker. Shadows danced around him, and the branches seemed to be reaching for him. Dick thought about going back but immediately shoved the thought out of his mind. He had to prove that he was worthy to be a crime-fighter. And the only way that he could do that was to escape from a villain by himself.
Two hours later:
The Batmobile coasted quietly into its parking spot and Batman climbed out. He instantly took off his cowl, sweat glistening on his brow and running down his face.
"Did you find Penguin, sir?"
"No," Batman replied, anger outlining his tone. "I went through the entire area on the north side of the State Pen but there wasn't even a trail of footprints! He just…disappeared."
Alfred hummed in response as he took the blue cowl. It needed to be washed immediately so the sweat wouldn't fade into stains.
"Is Dick in bed?"
"Yes, Master Bruce, he retired early tonight."
"He knew something, Alfred. I could hear it in his voice."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"He said that Penguin was going north and there was complete confidence outlining the words. Then there was a quick pause and he amended the statement."
"Quite a mystery, Master Bruce. But perhaps the interrogation can wait until tomorrow. He is undoubtedly asleep by now and young boys need their rest."
"Of course, Alfred. I'm going to take a shower; it's humid out there."
"I'll get you some refreshment, sir."
Nodding his thanks, Bruce strode to the changing area and turned on the water.
Dick was wandering through the back alleys on the edge of Gotham City. He was exhausted, having run through almost the entire forest before feeling like he could slow down. The boy didn't know this part of the city very well, but he did know that Bruce would never allow him to visit the area, especially not by himself.
He could hear whispers coming from buildings all around him. The only people who would be awake at this hour, he assumed, were criminals. But he wanted a villain, not just a criminal. However, the only villain that he was sure was free was Penguin. Unless Batman had found and captured him.
The boy was staring at the ground and so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the flabby man who suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Well, well, well," the man grunted softly. "What do we have here?"
Dick's head shot up and fear raced through his eyes. The guy in front of him was tall but he was all fat and no muscle.
I'm faster.
That was Dick's only thought before he turned around and raced away. He heard heavy breathing behind him, so he increased his speed. This was not the kind of man he wanted to capture him. The nine-year-old was looking for Penguin, not some chunky criminal who smelled like a skunk that had eaten moldy cheese.
The footsteps faded and Dick breathed a sigh of relief. It turned into a gasp of surprise when a strong arm reached from the darkness on his right. A beefy hand wrapped itself around Dick's right arm and yanked him into the darkness.
"It's not safe around here for a young kid."
The voice was soft but slightly threatening. Dick tried to shake his arm loose but the grip only tightened. He was pulled farther into wherever they were and this time his entire torso was wrapped in a strong hold. His breath caught in his throat and the nine-year-old felt his heart rate increase. Fear filled his mind and he realized that this had been a very stupid idea.
So, Dick began to struggle. Maybe he could still get out of this and race back to the safety of Wayne Manor, Bruce and Batman. Proving himself didn't seem as important now; he just wanted to stay alive.
"You're not going anywhere, boy. Stop struggling or I'll knock you out. Or maybe I'll just break one of your scrawny legs so you can't run."
Dick immediately stopped moving – he really didn't want that to happen. A broken leg would make it much harder to escape.
He was suddenly tossed out of the tight hold and he landed hard on the floor. It was tile, he realized as the breath whooshed out of him. Dick began gasping, trying to pull air into his lungs, and his entire body began trembling.
"Don't panic, little one."
This voice was…Dick could only describe it as whiny. He smelled the distinct odor of cigarette smoke and heard a cackle that sounded slightly like a duck. No, he grinned through his fear, it sounded like a penguin.
The Batcave – 15 minutes later:
Bruce found a small sandwich and large glass of water on the table by the Bat-analyzer when he emerged from the changing area. Alfred always knew exactly what he needed, and Bruce would be forever grateful for his faithful butler. The man was an invaluable asset to both Batman and Bruce Wayne.
"Sir!"
Bruce was startled at the loud exclamation. Alfred rarely shouted so it must be something important. The butler rounded the corner of the service elevator tunnel, his white hair in disarray and alarm written all over his face.
"He's gone, sir! I went to check on him and he's gone!"
Bruce's eyes grew wide. Dick was missing, probably kidnapped right under their noses!
"Master Bruce!" Alfred yelled.
The man realized he was just standing there, holding the glass of water. He dropped the object and raced to the Bat-camera viewing machine. Alfred joined him mere seconds later and both men waited impatiently for the machine to warm up.
Twenty seconds later Bruce began flipping through the views from the different locations. It didn't take long to find the boy. He was racing across the lawn but abruptly turned around and sprinted toward the forest. And he was alone; he hadn't been taken by a criminal looking for ransom money.
Bruce glanced at the time stamp – two hours and seventeen minutes ago. The boy had a huge head start, was fast and obviously determined to do…something.
"Oh, dear," Alfred murmured, distress in his voice. "Sir, he wants to fight."
"He's going searching for trouble," Bruce growled in agreement. "Dang it, Dick, what are you doing?! You're going to get yourself killed!"
"He's not here, Master Bruce. Perhaps you should begin looking for him instead of yelling at a two-hour-old video, sir."
Shaking his head in anger, Bruce raced back to the changing area and put on a new Bat-suit. Maybe his ward was lost in the forest – it was large and dense and nearing two o'clock in the morning.
"Oh, dear," Alfred murmured again.
Bruce ran out of the changing area; obviously his butler had seen something else.
"The views have been skipping from Bat-camera to Bat-camera, sir, and Master Dick emerged from the forest a little over an hour ago."
"Sh…"
"Master Bruce," Alfred warned angrily.
"Shoot, Alfred, that's what I was going to say!"
"I'm sure that's true, sir," the butler replied drily.
Slightly irritated with his butler's tone, Batman turned toward the Batmobile. He ran to the driver's side, nearly jumped in, and gunned the engine to life.
"He wants to fight, sir!" Alfred reminded him loudly. "He watches you go to Crime Alley almost every night!"
There was a grunt of acknowledgement and then the Batmobile shot out of the tunnel like a cheetah chasing a gazelle.
"Oh, Master Dick," Alfred whispered as he dropped onto the nearest chair. "What have you done?"
"So, who are you and what are you doing here?"
The long black coat, purple top hat and waddling walk were proof enough for Dick. He was in the clutches of the villain known as Penguin. His heart was thumping wildly and, for the fifteenth time since he had been captured, the nine-year-old wished that he hadn't been so stupid. Getting kidnapped was not the best idea he had ever had. It was, in fact, the worst. Especially since he was being held a foot off the ground – one strong arm wrapped around his chest and another across his waist.
"I asked you a question, kid!" the villain shouted.
A large fist landed a heavy punch on his right cheek and Dick's ears began ringing. The villain in front of him turned into a fuzzy blob and a gasp of pain slipped out of the boy's mouth.
"Tie him up," Penguin growled.
Dick was released and he dropped to his knees. Suddenly, he was snatched off the ground and shoved roughly onto a cold, metal chair. His arms were yanked behind him and his wrists tied together tightly with some kind of scratchy material. The position was painful, even for his flexible shoulders.
The nine-year-old thought about kicking out at his captor but remembered that the first guy who had pulled him into…wherever they were…was willing to break one of his legs. Escaping was the most important thing on Dick's mind; he couldn't afford that kind of injury.
"Talk to me, kid," the villain demanded. "Or it won't be only your cheek that gets a bruise."
Penguin cackled again and Dick cringed. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, but he would just have to deal with it. He was going to escape and prove that he was ready to become a crime-fighter.
"I'm just a kid," the nine-year-old replied.
"Obviously," Penguin snapped. "But who do you belong to? Where do you live?"
There was a long pause and the villain became impatient. He nodded to someone that Dick couldn't see. A short but very muscular man came into the boy's view and Dick's blue eyes widened. Maybe he should answer. But he didn't get the chance to decide.
A meaty fist shoved itself into his stomach and the nine-year-old suddenly couldn't breathe. He began gasping, frantically trying to pull oxygen into his lungs. But it wasn't working, and Dick noticed black spots dancing across his vision. That was probably bad, but he couldn't be sure. Thinking was fairly difficult, and panic was racing throughout his body.
And then he could breathe again. It was an unexpected change – he had felt like he was about to die – but one that made Dick extremely grateful.
The fist was raised again and the nine-year-old shook his head. Fear filled his eyes like water in a plugged sink.
"Bruce!" he cried out, his entire body trembling from both pain and alarm.
"Last name," Penguin commanded with a grin. There was only one Bruce in Gotham City, that the villain knew of, anyway. However, he wanted to hear it from the kid's mouth.
"Bruce, uh, Grayson."
Dick couldn't do it; he couldn't name his guardian because everything would be ruined. He had to escape on his own and a ransom call to Bruce would make that impossible.
"Grayson?" Penguin murmured. "Never heard of him. Are you sure that's his last name?"
It could be, Dick reasoned to himself. Maybe when he grew up he could adopt Bruce and then the man could be Bruce Wayne Grayson. Since that was a plausible – although very unlikely – excuse, he wouldn't be lying.
"Yes," the boy confirmed with a confident nod.
"Well, since I've never heard of him, you're not really much use to me, are you? He must not be rich so a ransom demand would be a waste of time. What to do with you, then?"
Dick grimaced; he hadn't thought of that. What if Penguin just decided to kill him before he could escape? That would also ruin his plan to prove himself to Batman.
Another cackle startled Dick out of his thoughts. He had been staring at the ground but the sound caused him to lift his head. Penguin was pacing in front of him, swinging his long cigarette holder around in the air. Ash was flying everywhere and the nine-year-old sneezed.
The villain stopped pacing when he heard the sound. He grinned at the young boy as an idea filled his mind.
"I will train you, kid, to become my henchman. The police won't fight a child. Neither will Batman. You only have a few muscles so my goons will have to beef you up before teaching you to fight."
Dick's eyes widened again – he was going to learn how to fight! From a villain's henchmen, unfortunately, but at least he would have the skills to escape when the time came!
"Scared or excited, kid? I can't read that expression. It doesn't really matter, your training begins tomorrow. You have about three hours before we start so I suggest you get some sleep."
With that, Penguin and his goons turned around and left. The last goon flipped a switch and Dick was left alone, tied up and in complete darkness. His cheek hurt, his stomach hurt, his shoulders hurt and it was way too dark. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep.