CHAPTER 12
PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, RHEELASIA
Generalissimo Lee sat in his study watching his favorite film, a color video of Robin on a jump line in Gotham City. The boy propelled himself off a rooftop and did a quadruple somersault before rappelling down to the pavement, in the process taking down two goons with his feet. Then he gracefully dispatched two more with swift kicks and blows with his small hands. Grinning, he came to a stop, dusted off his hands and proceeded to tie up the moaning crooks.
"Beautiful. Just beautiful," Murmured Lee. "Such grace, such style. And he's such a beautiful boy..."
"Indeed," said Mr. Tan thoughtfully, who sat on a chair by Lee's side.
"How goes the training with my current Robin?" Lee asked, pouring himself another drink. "Will he be ready soon?"
"Mr. President, you have been collecting Robins for how many years now? Five?" Tan asked tentatively.
"Yes, that's right. Since I saw the original in action," Lee sighed.
"This boy, Dick Grayson, he comes from Gotham City, does he not? Home of the original Robin?" Tan asked.
"Yes, he does. What difference does that make?" Lee asked.
"I have trained each of your Robins for you. Some were more athletic than others, but none of the boys had the athleticism of your current Robin. He tries to hide it, but his very movements are grace personified. Sir, I have studied all of the films you've collected that show the true Robin in action and I must say..."
"What? Must say what?" Lee demanded, perplexity in his face.
"You have been fishing for minnows, Sir, but I think that you may have caught a shark this time. This boy has the skills of the true Robin..." Tan replied hesitantly.
Lee was silent, his mouth working. Slowly, slowly his round face creased in a smile. "That night...the one in which Robin, but not Batman, was on my boat... We were headed for international waters. Once there, I and my girls would have been safe from interference by coastal authorities. You know that Bruce Wayne is Dick Grayson's guardian?"
Tan nodded.
"Well, the annoying Mr. Wayne wandered onto the bridge of my yacht and began asking my captain a series of truly stupid questions. Just as we approached international waters, Wayne managed to spill a martini onto the control board. It shorted out the entire system and allowed the Coast Guard to stop us just within American waters." Lee sipped at his drink, face thoughtful. "I had always thought that it was merely happenstance, a foolish at from a foolish man. But now...I wonder..." His smile grew even broader. "If Dick Grayson is Robin, then Bruce Wayne is Batman...it follows so logically...And here I can get my revenge on both Batman and Wayne at the same time." He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "And finally, I have the real Robin in my hands! This is truly a good day, Tan. A very good day." He pressed a small buzzer on the table beside him. To the servant who responded, he said, "Have Mr. Pak bring Robin to my dining room. I'd like the lad to dine with me tonight. He and I have much to discuss."
Robin went through the utility belt he'd been given. The compartments in the belt were empty. There was nothing useful there. He found a batarang, but it was made of painted cardboard. He had just tried throwing it when his bedroom door opened.
Robin stood with his back to the wall, facing the door and Mr. Pak, who stood there.
"How can you do this to helpless kids?" Robin burst out. "Don't you care that you're serving an evil man?"
Pak shrugged. "This is my job and I'm paid well for it. Now, are you going to come with me or do I have to call the guards?"
"Where are we going?" Robin asked suspiciously.
"The President has requested your presence at dinner. You do want to eat, don't you?" Pak asked sardonically. "I can leave you here to starve if you want. You'll either dine with your new owner or you'll go hungry."
"I'll stay here," Robin said. "If I have a choice."
"You don't," Pak replied. With a snap of his fingers, two huge bruisers appeared from behind him and rushed the boy. Robin didn't have weapons but he did have his training. He flung himself at the guards and quickly had the first on the floor, moaning in pain, then applied a nerve block to the second man, bringing him down like a towering tree. Mr. Pak watched it all before attempting to run when the second guard went down. With great enjoyment, Robin somersaulted over Pak and took him down with some well-placed blows.
Panting happily, Robin ran down the hallway and through the Robin gallery. He was going to get out of here if it killed him. The next hallway led to an elevator which only went one direction-up. He was in a basement level, then. He looked harder and found fire stairs. He hauled the door open and took the stairs two at a time.
He got to the ground floor, he could tell by the sunset showing through the windows. He ran for them and tried to open them but they wouldn't budge. Nailed shut, he thought. Then he went to a table and found an ugly bust of President Lee. At least he wasn't destroying anything of value, he considered as he prepared to shot-put the bust at the window as hard as he could. Then he saw the wiring; it was alarmed. He'd only succeed in letting the goons know where he was. He looked around the ground floor but there were no doors and the windows were sealed. Dammit! What now?
All his instincts told him that up was safe, so he ran back for the fire stairs. As the door closed behind him, he heard boots thudding down the hallway he'd just left. Sighing in relief, he ran up the steps as silently as he could. At the top of the building, the roof, he slammed the door open and ran into Mr. Tan and a very battered looking Mr. Pak.
"I did tell you that you would be punished if you tried to escape," Mr. Pak said vindictively, holding a handkerchief to his nose. Tan advanced on Robin, who backed into the landing, coming to a stop when he bumped into Generalissimo Lee himself.
Cornered, Robin didn't know where to look and tried to dive over the railing. He didn't have his grapple gun, but he'd rather have a broken neck than stay here. To his dismay, Tan was faster and grabbed him by the cape. Before Robin could release the thing, he was in Tan's grip, facing Lee.
To his surprise, Lee didn't look angry. In fact, he appeared delighted, with a huge grin on his face. "Well, well, my Robin," Lee said jovially. "I see that you tried to escape me. Not successfully, but still a good try."
"You should punish him for trying to escape," Pak said.
"No need," Lee said, holding Robin by the scruff of the neck in one huge hand. "I don't want anyone to cause so much as a scratch or bruise on this young man. He's more precious to me than gold. He's what I've been looking to possess for years and now that I have him, I will keep him." Lee's grin became even wider. "Welcome to my home, young Dick Grayson. Of course, you have another name and another life, don't you? You are the real Robin after all, as your guardian is the true Batman."
His heavy hand still holding Robin by the neck, Lee dragged him downstairs and into a large dining room. The table was easily as big as the dining table in Wayne Manor, but the ornate room lacked the warmth of home. Although it could clearly seat fifty comfortably, the table was set only for two.
"Have a seat, boy," Lee said, finally releasing Robin, albeit reluctantly. "Sit! Sit! Eat something. You must be famished."
Robin sat and glumly viewed the dozens of covered dishes scattered across the table. A butler moved in next to him and began serving a variety of exotic foods. Robin scoped the room. It had windows, probably nailed shut. And it was lined with guards holding machine guns. Getting out of here was going to be challenging. He looked down at his place setting. No knives or forks, not even chopsticks. He had a plastic spork and saw that Lee was using the same.
Lee stopped shoveling food into his mouth and smiled again. "You're wondering about the plastic cutlery? My boy, you aren't the first guest I've had and many of my Robins were streetwise kids when they came here, able to make a weapon of anything. Trust me, I've learned. Even you won't be able to make anything of that piece of trash."
"Like the cardboard batarang," Robin said, pushing at his food with the spork. "But why you think I'm the real Robin is beyond me. I'm just a kid."
"A nice try, my dear, dearest Robin," Lee said, smirking. "You're movements give you away. You are a martial artist of the highest level, clearly trained by Batman. And more, when I saw the film of you attacking Mr. Pak and my two guardsmen, you used a very familiar flip. One I have a tape of Robin executing. And besides, it makes sense. Bruce Wayne is athletic, yet a savvy businessman. How else does Batman afford his toys?" Lee put down his spork and leaned in to Robin. "But you're not eating! Surely you don't think I'd poison you?"
Robin pushed his plate away. "No, but you might drug me," he said.
"For five years, I've been your most sincere admirer," Lee said, spreading his hands. "All I've ever wanted was to show you my love for you!"
Robin could feel himself begin to shake and tried desperately to tamp it down. He'd never been as good at hiding his emotions as Bruce, but he needed to do it now. "The kind of love you show isn't love. You use people, collect them like toys and then destroy them. What happened to Rufus Garrett?"
Lee was taken aback. "Rufus Garrett? You mean my last Robin? He...uh...got sick and passed away. Very unfortunate," Lee grabbed his wine glass and took a gulp.
"You killed him, didn't you?" Robin said, hands bunching into fists in the too-soft gloves. "What did you do to him? What?" He lunged to his feet, ready to go for Lee's throat. Two guards sprang from behind him and wrestled him back into his chair while Lee dabbed at his lips with the napkin.
"I would rather not discuss such unpleasantness," Lee said, eyes hardening. "Certainly not at dinner. Eat your food, boy. It isn't poisoned or drugged." Lee leaned over the table and scooped up a sporkful of food from Robin's plate, then put it into his own mouth. "It's very good, too," he said indistinctly as he chewed. And you'll note that I've respected your youth." He pointed toward Robin's glass. "Only I have wine. Your glass simply has water in it."
He watched as Robin carefully took a bite of food, then washed it down with water. Nothing tasted wrong to him, but he still ate sparingly. The food was salty, though, so he helped himself to water and let the waiter refill his glass.
After he'd drunk his second glass of water, he began to feel...strange. His limbs felt loose and out of control and his balance was off. On the edge of panic, he looked up to find Lee studying him closely. "The...food..." he gasped out.
"Nothing wrong with the food," Lee said. "The water now? I put a little something in to help relax you. We'll spend some time together this evening, shall we?"
In a panic, Robin tried to get up, to run, but his legs wouldn't work right. He got up, but he stumbled and fell to the floor, only to be helped up again by the guards. He saw Lee bending over him and saying something he didn't understand, then he was being dragged down a long hallway papered in silk. Two intricately carved double doors were opened and he was carried into a large bedroom, papered in silk. In the center was a bed with a black velvet spread on it. The guards carried him in and laid him on the bed, then took their leave.
The lights dimmed and then all he could see was Singh Manh Lee...