Chapter 4:
Ten o'clock meant lights out but Dick was wide awake. His slightly swollen left eye was still hurting, even though Mike had made him put an ice pack on it for at least ten minutes after dinner, and his brain was in overdrive. John the chef looked very familiar and Dick was pretty sure that it wasn't because of The Royal Mushroom Club. The food they had been given today wasn't nearly as good as it was in that upscale restaurant. So, why did he recognize the man? Could it be someone he had faced as Robin? But, why would a villain be at a camp for rich kids? It's not like the kids carried around jewels or cash or other valuable things that criminals enjoyed stealing.
False Face was awake, too, and prowling around the dimly lit kitchen deep in thought. The villain had noticed the way Dick Grayson had been glancing at him all evening and it concerned him a little bit. Did the boy suspect something? He needed to find out but didn't know how to do that without causing suspicion. Maybe, instead of trying to avoid the teenager's scrutiny, he should just give the kid a dose of the formula tomorrow. It would be his first test and it would be interesting to see the results. But giving an untested drug to the ward of Bruce Wayne, the richest person in Gotham City with connections to other wealthy people everywhere? He didn't want to chance losing the opportunity to control such a valuable mind. He would just have to keep a close eye on Dick.
Batman was also awake and standing in the Batcave, staring absently across the room. His elbows were resting on the Hyper-Spectrographic Analyzer, hands clasped together and chin on the resulting fists. It was Dick's first night away and Batman couldn't help it – he was worried. But he realized that there were no legitimate reasons to worry. Everything was fine…probably. He was just being his usual paranoid self…maybe.
Vista Peak was supposed to be the safest camp that money could buy. A doctor was there full-time and Mike, a former police officer, personally trained each member of the staff. As a result, every counselor was CPR certified, knew basic self-defense techniques and could identify possibly explosive situations involving "personality conflicts" of enthusiastic young teenagers. There had never been a major incident, or even a minor one, in the fifteen years of the camp's existence. Contingencies were in place for almost every type of emergency.
Almost. Batman knew there were some situations that even the best police officer might not be able to handle, all of them involving villains of Gotham City. What if Riddler went up there and held everyone hostage? What if Joker went up there and started hurting the kids? What if Two-Face went up there and began flipping coins, playing with the lives of teenagers? What if something horrible was happening right now, while he was standing in the Batcave and doing nothing to prevent it?!
Batman frowned – if anything bad did happen, Dick wouldn't think twice about becoming Robin. It would be the young crime-fighter's instinctive reaction. Glancing over his left shoulder, Batman was relieved to see the extra Robin-suit in the same place where Dick had angrily thrown it last night after hearing that he wouldn't be allowed to take it to camp.
But there was another problem: the young teen would automatically defend the lives of the other people in the camp, especially the kids. Dick wouldn't look like Robin but he would fight like Robin. Many villains, and regular criminals, had been on the receiving end of some sort of acrobatic knock-out trick delivered by the Boy Wonder. It was possible that the boy's rather distinctive, athletic style could be recognized.
And that brought up yet another problem: Dick would defend others like Robin would. But, when it came to his own safety, the boy would remember that Dick Grayson was not allowed to fight like Robin. He wouldn't want to disappoint Bruce or Batman so, although Robin would defend everyone else, Dick would do his best to keep his identity safe if he was the only one in danger.
Alfred exited the elevator and cleared his throat, startling Batman out of his thoughts. "It's the Batphone, sir," he said, surprised that Batman hadn't heard the steady beeping sound that was only two desks away from him.
Batman straightened up while turning to his right and looked over at Alfred, realizing that he had been hearing that noise in the background for several minutes and had dismissed it as unimportant. He shook his head and strode toward the blinking red light.
"Thank you, Alfred," Batman nodded then picked up the phone. "Yes, Commissioner?"
With those two words, Batman switched into crime-fighting mode and his concern for his ward was pushed to the back of his mind.
Dick quietly sighed and looked at his watch – 11:15. He wasn't even remotely tired and not being able to place the face of John was irritating him. He needed to clear his head and the best way to do that was by working out. He couldn't go out and start fighting trees but he could go to the cafeteria and pull out some of those thick, blue mats that he had seen earlier. Dick wasn't usually a rule-breaker but this, he felt, was a special circumstance. Maybe it would help him figure everything out.
Quiet snores were coming from the bed above him and the almost inaudible grunts of restless slumber were drifting from across the room – Bronte and Walter were both asleep. Dick softly rolled out of bed and silently climbed out the open window in the cabin. The moon was half-hidden by clouds, showering the camp in a misty glow, and the slight breeze that ruffled the mountain air was chilly. Glancing around once to make sure he was alone, he raced soundlessly to the front of the cafeteria, only to find the door locked and all the windows shut. Just as he turned north to go around the building in order to investigate the back windows, he heard a soft 'squeak'. He pivoted to go south instead and was surprised at what he saw when he peered carefully around the southwest corner: John was leaving the kitchen. Why was John in the kitchen so late? That was a question for later because the door was Dick's way in and it hadn't closed completely yet. Sprinting around the corner, he dove through the skinny opening and breathed a sigh of relief when the door shut and locked itself. He quickly stood up, made his way into the cafeteria and started unfolding several of the heavy mats. As he was lining them up, he realized that the moon was being finicky and tumbling would be dangerous. Turning back toward the kitchen, he strode to the row of switches by the door and flicked up the one that controlled a small cluster of lights on the east side of the room.
False Face heard the crunch of leaves and glanced back at the kitchen. The door was just closing but he decided to go back and check to make sure it was locked. He returned, tested the door and started to leave when he heard a quiet noise. He crept around the southwest corner of the building and saw a shadow pass by a moonlit cafeteria window. Dropping to the ground, he crawled over to it and peered carefully through the slightly dusty rectangle of glass – somebody was pulling out and lining up the mats. He lifted his head a little higher and squinted. The body was short so it couldn't be one of the counselors preparing something for the next day. The figure walked through a slim ray of moonlight and False Face was surprised to see the slight build and darkened left eye of Dick Grayson. What was the boy doing in the cafeteria so late? It was too late to answer that question because Grayson had just turned on a square of lights on the other side of the room. False Face scurried away before the kid could have a chance to see him.
Walter stretched and opened his eyes as he turned over. They started to close again but popped back open when he saw Dick's empty bed. He grinned; he could get the boy in trouble but he had to find him first. The door was still tightly shut and Walter would have heard it creak open. Dick must have gone out the window.
"Bronte!" Walter whispered loudly, realizing he would need another person to confirm to Mike that Dick had left the cabin first. Bronte groaned and rolled onto his left side, away from Walter, without answering. Walter didn't whisper when he said it again and Bronte slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"Whaddya want, Walter?" Bronte's voice was sleepy and annoyed.
"It's Grayson; he's gone!" Walter replied.
"Gone!" Bronte's eyes were wide open now and he leaned over the edge of the top bunk. Walter wasn't joking – Dick was nowhere to be seen.
"Should we go look for him?" Bronte asked, a little worried about what might have happened to his new friend.
"Yeah, maybe he's in trouble or something," Walter replied.
The boys got out of bed and glanced at the small window, contemplating an attempt to get through it, but both quickly came to the conclusion that neither of their bodies would be able to fit. This was one area in which Dick, they realized, had an advantage. They turned toward the door instead and opened it as quietly and carefully as they could. The natural creak of the wooden door sounded, to them, like a loud boom of thunder and they froze in the doorway. Nothing moved, nothing happened and they relaxed slightly.
"Where should we go first?" Walter whispered as the moon vanished completely behind three clouds that had suddenly decided to huddle together.
"I guess we could start at the cafeteria?" Bronte whispered back. "But we can't just go blundering around in the dark."
"I'll get my flashlight," Walter replied and turned around.
Before he could re-enter the cabin, the moon obliged them by allowing a shimmer of silvery light to shine through the thinning clouds. The boys took off in the direction of the cafeteria, glancing guiltily around every few seconds.
The clouds regained their grip on the night sky, covering the moonbeams that were trying to escape from the darkness surrounding them. Just as the moon disappeared again, the two boys rounded the corner of the cafeteria and saw light shining through a window. They knelt down on the ground and, like False Face before them, crawled to the window and peered over the edge. The lights on the far side of the cafeteria were on and Dick Grayson was flipping his way down a line of thick mats.
Dick was flying and his mind was clearing. He took off again – round off, back handspring, double twisting layout with a back extension roll out of it. He shook his arms out then re-did the entire thing going the other way, adding a third twist and cutting out the end roll. This was exhilarating and he didn't want to stop. He knew he would have to go back to bed soon, though, so he decided to throw one of his hardest tricks as his grand finale. He jumped up and down a few times, rolled his neck once then sprinted down the mats – round off, back handspring, tuck double back. He landed short but felt no pain so he shrugged it off, although he was a little disappointed in himself.
Walter and Bronte were staring through the window, their entire heads in plain sight and their jaws dropped open. Dick Grayson looked like he was floating, he was so smooth in the air, and they were both a little jealous of his athleticism and skills. They watched him begin to fold up the mats then looked at each other and ran back to their cabin. Dick was climbing in the window five minutes later and he quickly fell asleep. Now it was Walter and Bronte who were wide awake: Bronte was trying to think of a way to get Dick to show everyone what he could do while Walter was deciding which counselor he should tell. It was half past midnight before all three boys were sound asleep.
