The Narrows - 2:00 AM
Rain lashed against the black armor of the Batmobile.
"Zucco is holed up in a warehouse on 4th and Barracuda," I said, monitoring the police bands from the passenger seat. "He is trying to smuggle himself out of the city on a fishing trawler at dawn."
Bruce didn't answer. He just tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The knuckles of his gauntlets ground together.
"Young Master," I said softly. "Remember the objective. Apprehension. Not execution."
"He killed them, Sebastian," Bruce growled. "For a few thousand dollars."
"I know. And if you kill him, he wins. He turns you into a murderer."
Thump.
A muffled sound came from the rear compartment of the Batmobile.
Bruce froze. "Did you hear that?"
"Hydraulics settling?" I suggested, though my demon ears knew better. I heard a heartbeat. A fast, small heartbeat.
Bruce hit the brakes. He spun around and opened the access hatch to the rear equipment bay.
Curled up behind the spare turbine generator, wearing a hoodie and holding a tire iron, was Dick Grayson.
"I'm coming with you," the boy said. His eyes were red from crying, but his jaw was set in stone.
"No," Bruce barked. "Get out. Sebastian, call the car service. Take him back to the Manor."
"I'm not going back!" Dick shouted. "He killed my mom and dad! I saw him! The fat man with the cigar! I know what he looks like!"
Bruce grabbed Dick by the shoulders, ready to drag him out.
"Master Bruce," I interrupted.
They both looked at me.
"The boy is an acrobat," I noted. "He climbed into a locked, armored vehicle without tripping the silent alarm. That is... impressive."
I looked at Dick.
"If we send him home, he will just run away again. He will hunt Zucco alone. And he will get himself killed."
I turned to Bruce.
"Let him watch. Let him see what justice looks like. If you hide the truth from him, the anger will fester. Trust me. I know about festering souls."
Bruce looked at the boy. He saw the rage. It was the same rage he felt every time he looked in a mirror.
"Fine," Bruce said, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "But you stay in the car. You don't move. You don't make a sound. Do you understand?"
Dick nodded. "Yes."
"Sebastian. Lock the doors."
The Warehouse
We parked in the shadows. Bruce—Batman—moved toward the warehouse like a wraith. I followed, keeping one eye on the car where Dick was glued to the reinforced window.
Inside, Tony Zucco was pacing. He had six armed guards with him.
"Where's the boat?!" Zucco yelled into a phone. "I paid you mooks half upfront! Get me out of here!"
Batman smashed through the skylight.
It wasn't a fight. It was a dissection.
Batman dropped into the center of the room. Two guards went down before they even knew he was there. Smoke pellets exploded, filling the room with grey haze.
CRACK. SMASH.
I stood by the door, ensuring no one escaped. A guard tried to run past me. I simply extended my foot. He tripped, hit his head on the doorframe, and slumped over.
"Sloppy," I critiqued.
In the center of the room, Zucco was the last man standing. He was firing his pistol blindly into the smoke.
"Stay back! I'm warning you!"
Batman emerged from the smoke. He slapped the gun out of Zucco's hand. He grabbed the mobster by the throat and slammed him against a stack of crates.
"Why?" Batman roared. "Why did you cut the wire?"
"Please!" Zucco squealed, his feet dangling. "It was just business! The old man wouldn't pay! I had to send a message!"
"A message?" Batman pulled back a fist. The gauntlet hummed with hydraulic power. One punch would shatter Zucco's skull.
Zucco squeezed his eyes shut.
Batman froze.
He looked toward the entrance. Through the dirty glass of the warehouse office, he could see the Batmobile. He knew Dick was watching.
If he killed this man... he validated everything Zucco stood for.
Batman lowered his fist.
He dropped Zucco. The mobster collapsed, gasping for air.
"You're going to Blackgate," Batman said coldly. "For life."
Suddenly, the side door burst open.
It wasn't a guard.
It was Dick.
He had picked the lock of the Batmobile. He held the tire iron in his hand. He sprinted across the warehouse floor, screaming.
"YOU KILLED THEM!"
Dick swung the iron at Zucco's head.
Zucco, panicked, reached for his ankle holster. He pulled a backup piece.
"No!" Bruce yelled, lunging.
But I was faster.
I moved. A blur of black fabric.
Clang.
Dick's tire iron didn't hit Zucco. It hit my hand. I caught it inches from the mobster's skull.
At the same time, my other hand was wrapped around the barrel of Zucco's gun, crushing it before he could fire at the boy.
Dick looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. "Let me go! He has to pay!"
"He will pay, Master Dick," I said softly, looking down at him with glowing red eyes. "But not like this."
I gently took the tire iron from his shaking hands.
"Look at him," I pointed at Zucco, who was cowering in a puddle of his own urine. "He is pathetic. He is a coward. If you kill him, you end his suffering. You give him an easy way out."
I leaned in, whispering so only Dick could hear.
"But if you let him live... he goes to a cage. He rots. Every day, he remembers what he did. Every day, he fears the shadow of the Bat. That is true punishment."
Dick trembled. He looked at Zucco. Then he looked at Batman, who was standing there, silent, waiting for the boy to choose.
Dick dropped his hands.
"I want him to rot," Dick whispered.
"Good choice," I said.
I turned to Zucco.
"You heard the boy," I smiled. "The police are on their way. If I were you, I would plead guilty immediately. Because if you ever get out... well, I am the butler. I take out the trash."
The Batcave - 4:00 AM
We stood on the platform. Dick Grayson was looking around the massive cavern, at the dinosaur, the giant penny, and the computer.
He wasn't scared. He was awestruck.
Bruce took off his cowl. He looked exhausted.
"You shouldn't have come inside," Bruce said.
"I had to know," Dick said, looking at Bruce. "You're him. You're the Batman."
"I am."
Dick looked at the suit. Then he looked at his own hands.
"I don't have anywhere to go," Dick said. "And I don't want to go back to a foster home."
Bruce knelt down.
"You can stay here. As long as you want."
"I don't want to just stay," Dick said, his voice fierce. "I want to help. I want to catch guys like Zucco. I want to make sure no other kid has to watch their parents fall."
Bruce looked at me.
I stepped forward, holding a tray of hot cocoa (with extra marshmallows).
"The boy has potential, sir," I said. "He has balance. He has fire. And he is quite good at sneaking out of locked vehicles."
Bruce sighed. "It's dangerous. You could die."
"I'm already dead inside," Dick said, echoing the words Bruce had felt for twenty years. "Teach me how to be something else."
Bruce stood up. He extended a hand.
"We start at 6:00 AM. If you miss a step, you're out."
Dick grabbed his hand. "I never miss."
I watched them shake hands. The Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder.
"Well," I said, picking up the tray. "I suppose I shall have to order more Kevlar. And perhaps... something in red? Black is a bit dreary for a growing child."
I walked toward the elevator.
"Welcome to the family, Master Dick. Try not to break the chandeliers."
_________________________________________________________________________
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