Robin was thrust into an office. He could tell because the harsh lighting made his rag translucent, and the sound of papers being shuffled and a chair being swivelled was clear as day to his ears.
Surely, an office was the last place that Robin thought he would be taken to. An interrogation room would have been more fitting. In fact, they had even allowed him the freedom to keep the rag on his face by handcuffing his hands in such a position. Detective Bullock had been quick to voice his unsavoury opinion on the matter, but Commissioner Gordon easily shot him down with simple authority.
"Alright, spill it," Detective Bullocks demanded gruffly as he marched into the room. The police officers who had guided Robin suddenly let go and began to walk away. "Stay," Bullock added to the officers. "I need guards."
"No, you don't," spoke another voice. Commissioner Gordon. There was the sound of a door softly closing. "What is he going to do while he has to keep that rag on his face? He can't even see the room to map an escape route."
"And what's going to stop him from having a go at me so that I can't reveal his identity? Huh?" Bullock challenged.
"His morals and purpose," Gordon spat back.
There was a contemplating silence. "You're with the men in tights, aren't you?" spoke Bullock suddenly, voice piercing through the air.
"What?" responded the Commissioner in a nearly appalled tone.
"You keep defending him over me," challenged the Detective.
There was a long sigh, one that Robin assumed was from the Commissioner. "I'm on the side of the law, Detective, and the law doesn't require two armed guards for a pre-teen boy. Weren't you the one who wanted him in your personal office to begin with?"
"Teenager," Robin piped in before he could stop even himself, his voice muffled by the rag.
"What?" Bullock snapped suddenly, peering uncomfortably close at Robin. "What did you say?"
"Teenager," Gordon replied.
Bullock growled at his boss. "I wasn't asking you," he said, turning back to Robin. "Teenager, eh? You look awfully young. How old are you, then? 13? 14?"
"15," Robin bit back. That was a lie, and he couldn't even remotely pass as 15, but it would be stupid to give the man his real age. It was stupid to begin with to tell him he was a teenager. Robin could have easily passed off as a pre-teen! Stupid pride.
"15," Bullock said musingly. "Well, I'll just have to see if you're telling the truth when I search you up in the system, eh?" Robin heard the footsteps grow closer.
"Wait," Gordon said suddenly, halting the footsteps. There was a loud, exasperated groan from the Detective.
"What is it now?" he practically yelled at his superior, before meekly getting quieter in his actions. Robin assumed that Gordon had given him some sort of expressive warning.
"Cameras," Gordon replied.
"Yeah?" snapped Bullock. "What of them?"
"Robin has dangerous enemies," Gordon elaborated. "They must be trying to get a front row seat at the revealing of his identity. Believe it or not, Detective, it isn't that hard for professional hackers to get into a camera system."
"You've got to be kidding me," Bullock deadpanned incredulously. "I have to sit here with this kid staying unmasked or un-ragged or whatever you want to call it while you go deactivate the cameras? Does there have to be a damn procedure for me to yank a piece of fabric away?"
"Welcome to the job," Gordon answered, and Robin listened as his footsteps began to pad away again. The door creaked open. "If you so much as touch Robin and I know of it in the time that it takes for me to come back, consider yourself unemployed."
"You don't have that kind of power!" Bullock yelled after him, but the Commissioner had already left the room.
Instead of chasing after Gordon and raising hell, Bullock seemed to consider his situation for a moment. Finally, he decided to stay put, opting to sit on the edge of his desk instead. He looked at Robin. "You're a piece of shit, you know that?" he commented rudely.
"So I've been told," Robin replied monotonously. He decided to centre all of his divided attention on conversation with the bane of his identities. Perhaps he could possibly act like none of it bothered him at all. Act like he had nothing to hide.
Who was he kidding? Robin had everything to hide.
The young hero was only stared at, until finally: "Why do you always have to interfere with our jobs?" It sounded more as if Bullock was ranting instead of asking, though. "Can't you just leave the police work to the police and go focus on your damn Algebra homework or something?"
Robin didn't have any Algebra homework. He had Algebra 2 homework, but he finished that in class. It was kind of mandatory if he was going to be spending his evenings out on the streets. Except, the Detective didn't need to know that. "We would," Robin opted for saying instead. "If the police would do said job."
"We do!" Bullock protested loudly. "We do the best we can!"
"And it isn't good enough," Robin replied back smoothly. "Do you want to know why?" Bullock didn't ask why. Robin continued anyway. "Because if you need information, you have to follow a million step set of rules following a court date following a court order following who-knows-what and how many permissions from the third, then second, then first chain of command. And if you get it any way else? Well, apparently, that doesn't make it information. It doesn't count," Robin elaborated. "You know why we get the job done before you get started? Because we can show up in our fancy dancy little masks and do a little dance and they pee their pants, cry tears of info, and run away."
It was so silent that Robin swore he would be able to hear a pin drop.
On carpet.
"That's not—"Bullock started, sounding slightly flustered. "That's not justice at all!"
"Huh," Robin muttered. "So fear is supposed to be unfair? We usually don't even have to touch them. They scare themselves."
"You're monsters," Bullock practically chanted, convinced. "Both of you. You may have been influenced or forced or tricked, but no matter, it's you now."
"I save lives," Robin defended. "No guns, no-kill policy. I save lives and have morals. Do monsters have morals? No, they don't even have brains. In fact, they usually eat brains and are featured on popular TV shows."
There was a frustrated huff of air and Bullock shuffled in place. "You have such a child's view of monster."
"And you have such a childish view of justice and injustice," Robin retorted. "It's not just black and white."
"And I take it that you're the grey?" Bullock spat.
"All 50 shades," Robin sung back.
"Stop joking!" the Detective suddenly roared, finally standing back up and beginning to pace. "You're getting on my nerves."
Exactly. Getting on people's nerves was exactly what Robin did best, and hearing those words spoken gave him the boost of confidence that he had been missing. "Aw, I'm flattered," he cackled.
"And stop cackling!" Bullock demanded again. "It's creepy!"
"It's my signature," snickered Robin. "I'll write it down for you in pen if you'd like. HE-HE-HE-HE-HE, kind of like my gender nobody gets right over phone calls. Add a few HA's for bonus points. HO's if it's Christmas, or you're single and traded all of your checks for one dollar bills."
Bullock snarled, frustrated to the extent that he didn't know what exactly to do.
"Oo, he unleashed Snarl! Level Up! Fight!"
"Shut up!"
"That's disrespectful, mister."
"I'm the disrespectful one?"
"Yes, now go to your room."
"I am in my room! My office! With you, handcuffed."
"TMI, I didn't know you played that way."
"Play-? I'm not playing anything. This isn't a damn game!"
"Never said it was, but it's still pretty fun."
"It's not fun for me."
"Aw, okay, then it's just plain funny."
Bullock stopped stiffly beside Robin's shoulder, looming towards the uncomfortable range again. But that time was different. That time, Robin had his witty, smartass-ness about him again. He smirked into his rag, pressing it closer to himself as he could feel the Detective's proximity.
Footsteps approached the door.
The door opened again.
"Detective—"Gordon's voice spoke again, before halting in alarm.
Robin had perked up naturally when he had heard Gordon's voice, and as temperamental as Detective Bullock was, he wasn't entirely stupid.
He yanked the cloth from Robin's grip.
Robin didn't even register the door immediately being slammed shut. All he could do was stare in horror at his empty hands, and was too slow to react when Bullock thrust at the back of the swivel chair he was on so that Robin turned and Bullock roughly grabbed Robin's hair.
Mouth agape, Robin's blue eyes stared back at Bullock's anticipating, excited face.
Excited, and then absolutely mortified face. It took him a moment, but then he stumbled back in horror.
Robin's heart beat a mile a minute. He felt like he couldn't breathe right, and his ears were ringing. His eyes were sharp but his mind was unfocused and his stomach was somewhere at his toes.
It took Bullock a while to collect his words. "Ri-ichard-"he stuttered, before clearing his throat. "Richard…Grayson. Grayson. Richard Grayson…?" said the Detective, absolutely bewildered.
Richard couldn't blame him. He was, too.
Then, Bullock's eyes widened as something registered to him. Something must have clicked. His eyes darted all over Richard's face. "If you're—"he started. "Bruce Wayne is—"
The lights flickered, then burnt out. There was a split second of complete stillness, and then the curtains were waving like flags as the glass holding the wind back shattered. Bullock yelped and fell onto the ground.
Before Richard knew it, he was on a roof.
He watched in the chill night air, feeling utterly bare without his mask or his utility belt and useless with his hands locked in front of him, as the lights flickered back on. Then started the outraged screeching. From the angle he was at, when Richard peered just hard enough, he was able to see the flaps of Jim Gordon's coat as he was practically assaulted by a frantic Detective Bullock. He had just entered – meaning he had not seen at all what had happened in the room.
"Robin—Richard!' Bullock screeched. "Richard and Robin! Batman!" he rambled. He grabbed Gordon's coat. "Bruce Wayne is Batman!"
Gordon slowly pried Bullock's fingers off of his coat. "You need to calm down, Detective."
"Why aren't you excited?" Bullock screamed. "I know who Batman is now! Bruce Wayne! Bruce Wayne is Batman!"
"That's a very loud accusation to make against the city's biggest funder. A very dangerous one for the city, too—"
"No, I'm certain!" Bullock insisted. "I'm 101% completely sure! I saw Robin with my own eyes – he's the Grayson kid! Richard Grayson!"
"You're going to need some sort of evidence—"
"You!' Bullock interrupted. He latched onto Gordon and began pulling him towards the door in order to leave the office. "You're my evidence. You're my eye-witness!"
"No," Gordon corrected, yanking his jacket back. "I'm not. I wasn't there."
That took a moment to sit in. "You weren't—"
"No. I told you to follow me and left, but you must not have heard," Gordon said smoothly.
Bullock took a deep breath. "That's alright, the cameras—"
They paused and stared at each other.
Richard cackled. He was still cackling, even while he had to get slung over Bruce Wayne's shoulder and put his dignity to the test as the billionaire swung from roof top to roof top, sporting a black mask with peculiarly pointed ears.
Richard couldn't wait to laugh about it over a nice cup of a certain Mr. Pennyworth's famous hot chocolate. It was just that funny because, in the end, after all the stress was said and done, there was no proof to be had anyway.
Oh my GOD.
The response to the first chapter was INSANE. I literally did not expect 11 reviews for a 3,000 word first chapter (including the three spam ones, but those were just amusing to read, and that's still freaking 9 reviews). I've never gotten that much before for that amount of writing.
I logged on and did a little happy dance because of it and it made my entire day. Thank you so much everyone, I am SO happy you liked it!
Hopefully the ending was satisfactory. A bit short, but it was super late and I didn't have enough patience to wait for it to be betaed.
I might post a teensy tinsy little epilogue.
Read and review, please! What did you think? Until next time, you wonderful folks!