Robin: Beginnings - Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I Hack GCPD 

“Get the kid!” Bam! My knuckles pound into the hard surface. “The boss really wants to see you.” Smack! My leg shoots forward, slamming into the thick fabric. “You can’t get away from us, brat!” Wack! Sweat pours down my face, but I don’t care. 

Boom! I launch into a flying kick, smacking into the punching bag twice, sending it rocking back and forth as I land in a defensive pose, going right into my next string of attacks. Smack! The bag isn’t a bag; it’s Zucco. Wack! It’s Zucco’s goons coming for me. Bam! I can’t believe I let them almost get me two more times! 

I don’t feel pain as my knuckles send the bag swinging, as my legs pound into it again and again. What? Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never tried to beat the living daylight out of an inanimate object before. 

I don’t hear the footsteps behind me until they are right there— waiting, reaching—

“Ugh!” My fist strikes a gut, hard and quick. The man doubles over, letting out a small grunt. Only when I blink through the sweat do I realize who I’ve just attacked. And oh boy, I’m going to be grounded for life!

I leap back, fighting the urge to hide behind the bag, still swinging like a pendulum. Okay, maybe I won’t get grounded for life, but I’m definitely gonna get the ‘look.’ “Alfred!” My butler stands in front of me, dressed and groomed to perfection as always. Well, except for the wrinkles where my knuckles hit. I rush forward, reaching out to help him up, do something. Did I break something? Is he going to pass out? What should I do?! “I’m so sorry!”

Alfred wheezes, but only for a second. The next, he’s standing up, straightening his suit jacket, and sniffing. Honestly, what’s he made of? Is he the Alfred of Steel? No way can he be a normal human. “No need to apologize, Master Dick.Well done. ” Most adults would scold me or tell me off. I keep forgetting that Alfred isn’t most adults. Still, it doesn’t feel right to be praised for winding my butler. Oh well. 

Alfred clasps his hands in front of him, looking more like he’s picking me up from school than recovering from a pint-sized punch. Now, if only I could be that calm when I’m hit in the stomach. “I came to fetch you.”

I know it’s pointless, and I’ll just be disappointed, but I still perk up. “Bruce?”

The look on his face is enough to deflate me. Maybe it’s the attempted kidnappings over the past couple of days, but Alfred’s been showing more emotion than his normal thinned lip expression. Mostly in his eyes, but still, I’ll take what I get. “No, Master Dick. I am sorry.”

That’s what he says now. No, “Master Bruce is working” or “Master Bruce is still asleep.” No. Just, ‘I’m sorry,’ which I take as Alfred agreeing with me or at least realizing how much it really hurts. Out of everyone in my life right now, even Babs, he knows. 

I come home with Alfred after being rescued from my doom by Batman, found drugged and dragged through an alley, and Bruce isn’t here. I come home after a day when even the smallest absence from Alfred causes Zucco’s thugs to jump me on the sidewalk, trying to muscle me into a car, having to be saved again by Batman, and Bruce isn’t here. 

I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to hope for it. But I do. And it hurts. “Then, what’re we doing?” I unwrap my knuckles, trying to blow the damp hair out of my face. “It’s a Saturday.” I want to add that I’ve already finished my homework and extra studies, and I should have the rest of the day free. Are we going somewhere?

“Lessons, Master Dick.” Alfred holds a hand out towards the gym’s exit. “Chop, chop.”

Lessons… again? Now? “But,” I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to complain. But my nose wrinkles as I dump my hand wraps into the duffle bag, grabbing a towel and draping it over my neck, “I got all my homework done. I thought—”

“Plans change, Master Dick.” Alfred doesn’t say anything else as he starts walking towards the door, leaving me to sprint just to catch up with him. Okay, that’s a lie. Alfred’s plans don’t change. And it isn’t because the man isn’t flexible, oh no, the reason his plans don’t change is that he somehow plans for everything. So why? Why do I have to do more work? It’s not that I don’t enjoy it; it’s just that my free time’s precious and rare. I was working out anyway. So what’s this all about?

I don’t ask, though. I’ve found it’s best not to pester Alfred because a) he won’t even bother to answer or b) he’ll just give you ‘the look.’ And I don’t need ‘the look’ right now. Not when my head’s throbbing and the adrenaline’s still pumping fast. 

We enter the banquet hall. It stands empty, echoing, and huge. I don’t know what I was expecting. A surprise? A party? Bruce? Something more than the papers and laptop sitting in front of my spot? I don’t want to look disappointed, but there it is. I am. I can’t help myself. 

I plop down in my chair, rubbing my hair with the towel before looking down at what sits before me. It’s not any curriculum I’m familiar with. It’s not even schoolwork. It’s a large map of Gotham City, sections color-coded, the key down at the bottom. Certain places are circled, some crossed off. The laptop in front of me flashes a police case file on the screen. 

My eyes widen at the name. Tony Zucco. I whip my head over to Alfred, who stands expressionless next to me. No, he didn’t, not for me, no way! “What— what’s this, Alfred?” My voice cracks. No, this can’t be possible. Is he actually—?

“This is your way of getting closure, Master Dick.” Alfred taps the map. “The locations circled in red are the known establishments that Tony Zucco frequents to collect extortionist money. The ones X-ed are those who have been freed by Batman and the police.” My mind swirls. No, is he actually? Can I, actually? This has to be a dream! “The article is Tony Zucco’s case file.” Alfred motions to the laptop, and I follow his hand. I want to be embarrassed as I flinch at the picture of Zucco, but I’m too caught up in what I’m reading. Everything the police know is here. Everything Batman knows is here. Well, okay, maybe not everything. But it’s a lot!

“Did you hack the GCPD files?” My voice is so awed, so impressed, that Alfred’s mouth twitches. But really, I know he taught me how to hack, but this? Is this legal?

“This file and map are at your disposal, Master Dick.” Alfred takes a step back, the twitching gone, replaced by his regular somber expression. “I hope that when you pursue this, you will understand the true difficulties of the police and the Batman. Happy hunting.”

With that, I’m left alone with the laptop and the map. Two small things, but they mean the world to me. Bruce hasn’t let me even watch the news about Batman or the GCPD’s search for Zucco, let alone research it. Did he give Alfred permission to do this? Or is Alfred going behind his back?

I don’t know which I’d prefer. 

For the next hour and a half, I study the map and the file. I’ve been trained to do this from the classes Alfred’s made me take, but this is actually work, not schoolwork. This isn’t some crafted test. This is the real deal. So real, in fact, my hands tremble as they trace the lines over the map, absorbing every tiny bit of info on it. 

The City of Gotham is divided into sections, each with its super villain overlord. Or at least, that’s how I like to think about it. Really, it’s just the territory and stomping grounds of a particular villain. The ones that matter, anyway. Joker, Two Face, Riddler, Black Mask, and the Penguin. My encounter with the thug that night, when I escaped the Home, makes more sense now. I’d been in Riddler’s territory. 

Now, you’d think that all of this would be easy peasy, very straightforward. I could find Zucco in a day, and Batman could find him in an hour. Everything’s laid out for us, right? But once I take a closer look at the map, I know why they haven’t caught him yet. All of his gigs are spread around the city. They aren’t just in one part of Gotham. For example, he hit Haly’s Circus, which is on Amusement Mile, part of the Joker’s territory, but he also hit a Bakery in Two Face’s territory and a car garage in Black Mask’s place. 

Then you’d think that maybe Tony Zucco isn’t working for any of the big shots. Maybe he’s a solo criminal, an average head honcho. But I know he can’t be working for himself for two reasons. One, he said he was collecting money for his boss when he threatened us at Haly’s. Two, a small thug like him would be eaten alive by the big A-class villains. I’m surprised he operates in their territories at all. 

Leaving the map behind, I scan through his file. In all the reports, no one ever says who he works for or if he even gave a hint. Only ‘the boss,’ which is as generic as you get. 

But here’s the thing. He’s strictly his boss’ extortionist, collecting ‘protection money’ and only has ten murders to his name, including my parents. Now, you’d think that’s bad, but we’re in Gotham City. That’s like kindergarten level compared to these other guys. So, if he’s not into murder and not into revenge, if I’m reading the file right, I only write one question in my notebook. 

Why does he want me?

Who, of all the super mob bosses of Gotham, would want the Flying Graysons dead? It couldn’t have been his idea. That’s not his MO. He only kills to prove a point, which is probably what he would’ve done to me if everyone hadn’t jumped in to scare him off. In all cases where he’s been scared off, he’s never come back for revenge. He’s left that establishment alone. So why kill my parents? Why try to kill me? And, if he wanted to kill me, why would his goons have tried to drug and kidnap me?

Unless… he doesn’t want me dead. 

I pull the laptop closer and do what Alfred taught me to do. I hack into the GCPD database. Hey! He did it first! Besides, he told me to get closure! This is closure! So, my fingers fly over the keyboard, my eyes scanning each super villain profile available. Who would benefit? Who would even care? At first, I think it might be the Riddler. Didn’t that thug say that he wanted civilians to play with? But that wouldn’t make sense. Why would he go to all this trouble just to get a little boy? And that whole incident happened after the circus. 

I wouldn’t put it past the Joker. I mean, the circus? Clowns? It’s kinda his whole shtick. So I dig into the over hundred pages, not even kidding, over the hundred-page case file. I don’t want to read all of what’s in there. All the terrible things that these people have done. All the things that I know my mom would disapprove of me knowing. 

The problem with the Joker is that his whole thing is chaos. His attacks never have a pattern, never have a reason behind them. Besides, if he were the one who was behind Zucco, I would think that Zucco would have more of a presence and actually represent the Clown Prince of Crime. Joker likes to put his own little flair on everything. 

So, I cross out Riddler, Two Face, and Joker. They have too much personal flair and not enough motivation unless they just want to troll the police and the Bat, which I wouldn’t put past them. I mean, having them come after just me would be kind of flattering, in a messed-up kind of way. 

Even still, I focus on Black Mask and the Penguin. Both seem like the kind of people who’d have an extortionist, and both seem to be on relatively good terms with the others. But killing trapeze artists and kidnapping twelve-year-old boys? I mean, now that I’m the ward of Bruce Wayne, it would make sense, but Zucco threatened me before that. 

I scribble all my notes down in the folder Alfred left me, listing every single possibility from least to most likely. Two Face? No connection. Not at all his MO. It has nothing to do with choices, which is his whole thing. 

Joker doing it just for the ‘fun’ of it? Maybe. How is this possible? Because the others fear him enough to let his people operate in their territory. Plus, it has everything to do with the circus. 

Riddler? I was in his territory. Zucco probably knew where I was and didn’t come to get me. But was that because Batman was in the area? What about that thug? Possible connection.

Penguin. He mostly dabbles in legitimate business, not wanting to sully the last scraps of his respectability with Gotham’s elite. He’s a Cobblepot and needs the wealth, but that has nothing to do with a small boy from the circus. 

The most likely, in my eyes at least, is Black Mask. His crime empire’s the most organized, though not as big as Penguins. His hands are in all the dirty pots that Mom wouldn’t want me to know about. Drugs, extortion, blackmail, weapons, smuggling, and trafficking. 

I learned a little about human trafficking in my classes, but Alfred made a point of telling me to skip parts. I did. What? I don’t disobey all the time! What I do know is that people kidnap other people and put them up for auction, like human slaves. 

I’m glad that Batman and the GCPD have cleared out all of the known trafficking circles in Gotham because I can’t stand the thought of people treating other people like that. But now I wonder. What if someone wants me? What if they know that Black Mask can do this, so they hired him to kidnap me? And since Batman and the GCPD are watching all of his old people, he’s sending his extortionist to do the dirty work?

The only question is… why?

I smooth out my paper, satisfied with my work. Alfred’s right. I really did need this. Batman and the GCPD are probably further along in the case than I am. They know more, have more resources, and are actually doing things. But in my mind, I’ve already caught Zucco. I’ve already found out who he works for. And they’ve already gotten what they deserve. 

Tucking the folder under my arm, I walk out of the banquet hall. Might as well hand this over to Alfred and take the rest of the evening off in my room. The only problem with that is that I can’t find Alfred. 

What? I’m not my Butler’s keeper. I look for him everywhere. If you’ve ever tried to find an adult, I’m sure you know the procedure. You start your sweep in the places they frequent, which, in this case, are the kitchen, laundry room, and portrait hall. Then, you go out from there. I tell you, it’s like a glorified version of hide-and-seek! 

I’m wandering through the office hall when I finally hear voices. And let me tell you, in a house as quiet as this, voices are always a welcome sound. I open my mouth to call out to Alfred, getting ready to shout that I’ve finished my work, when I notice who’s talking and where they’re arguing. 

Alfred and Bruce are arguing behind the closed, locked door of Bruce’s office. I shouldn’t listen. I should walk away, go to my room, and wait for Alfred to come to me. I shouldn’t spy— but my feet move me towards the door, silent on the hardwood. When I reach the door, I slow my breathing and heartbeat. I know Alfred and Bruce will be able to hear me otherwise. Then, I press my ear against the door. Stupid, I know, but hey, when two adults are arguing, you either want to a) run and hide or b) listen in. Especially if your name’s dropped. Multiple times. 

“—saying is that Master Dick has been asking for you. Repeatedly, Master Bruce.” Alfred’s voice is the sternest I’ve ever heard. You’d think that Bruce really was his son or something. “You cannot keep ignoring the boy.”

“He has you, Alfred.” I don’t know what’s worse, the words or the sound of Bruce’s voice as he types on a computer. The disinterested tone. My heart squeezes in my chest. I don’t know if I want to hear this, but I keep listening. “You took excellent care of me.”

“But Master Dick is not you, Master Bruce!” Alfred’s voice is something I’ve never heard before, passionate. “I did not take him in. You did. You are the one who told me that you wanted to give him a life. To do for him what I did for you.”

“I know.” Bruce still types, his voice… I don’t even know what to think about it. Cold? Distant? Annoyed? “But I don’t have time for him right now. You know that.”

He might’ve just killed me. My heart stops in my chest. My throat clogs, my eyes burning. He… he actually said it. That he doesn’t have time. That he doesn't care. “Master Bruce, he’s a boy! You need to make time.”

“I have work, Alfred.” I want to punch Bruce in his perfect jaw. Alfred lied. What the media says about Bruce Wayne is exactly who he is. He’s selfish, arrogant, and doesn’t care about anyone. My blood goes from freezing to boiling in a matter of seconds. I can feel my cheeks flushing, my head pounding. 

“Master Bruce, you need to be there for the boy!” Alfred snaps so hard that I think something actually broke. My ears, probably. “He’s already been almost kidnapped two more times! You know how traumatic that is! I cannot….” Alfred sighs, “I love the boy, Master Bruce. But I am not who he wants. He wants you.”

“I am there for him.” Bruce’s voice is cold, determined. “I take care of him. He’s safe, isn’t he?”

Liar! He’s never been there for me after I’ve been shot, drugged, or dragged away. Not once! How could he say that? Why am I even here, listening to this? It would be better if I hadn’t… 

“You may be there for him, Master Bruce, but he doesn’t know that.” Alfred’s voice is pleading. “If you want him to avoid making the same mistakes as you, you cannot keep him shut out of your life.”

I want to cheer Alfred on and raise my eyebrows all at once. Bruce hasn’t been here for me. I mean, yeah, he takes me to parties, pays for everything, and gives me Alfred, but I know about those things. What does Bruce do that I don’t know about? I know he’s not here for me, not when it counts. What, does he sit and watch me sleep, then has Alfred come in when I wake up screaming from nightmares? Does he call up Principal A.P. and ask if I had a good day at school? 

“Keeping him away is how I keep him safe.” Bruce isn’t typing anymore. From the creak of a chair, I know he’s standing up. His voice is so hard, so severe that I want to whimper, but I don’t. Instead, my heart pounds, my breaths hitch, and my eyes burn, tears leaking down my cheeks. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to let this hurt. But it does, it does! Is it too much to ask that the person who took me in is around a little bit? Is it too much to ask him to acknowledge how I feel about all of this?

You tell me. Do you think I’m selfish? 

“And Alfred, I need you to take him out of school.” Everything stops. The house seems to hush completely; all sound, all movement stops. No birds tweet outside, and no air conditioning churns. My mouth opens, my skin freezing, sending chills running up and down my back. No… no, he can’t! He can’t keep me here! He can’t keep me locked up in this… this morgue!

“Master Bruce! I really must protest!” Alfred’s voice is as shocked as I feel. “School is his favorite pastime! Where all his friends are! You can’t—”

“I can and I will.” Bruce’s hands creak against the desk. I close my eyes. No, no, no, no! “Every time he’s been attacked, it was during or after school. He’s not safe out there, Alfred, not until we catch Zucco.”

‘We?’ What has he been doing? Nothing, nothing! 

“The boy will never be safe!” Alfred’s protests only add fuel to the fire. He’s trying to fight for me, but he’s being shot down. How could Bruce do this? How, how, how? “He is the ward to Billionaire Bruce Wayne! There will always be people—”

“I am putting my foot down on this one, Alfred.” Bruce’s words are final, sealing my doom, digging my grave. Alone… alone with a man who’s never around, who doesn’t care about me. Alone in a cold, quiet Manor with only a butler and a dog to keep me company. Alone, alone, alone. Call me overdramatic, but when you grow up in a tightly knit circus family, always around other people, solitude might as well be the grave. 

Then, the worst thing happens. “He can come to charity events and galas with me, but I don’t want him going anywhere else.

Charity Case. The nickname pounds into my skull like a hammer, ringing over and over. Only go out with him. Only to galas, where I get paraded around and shown off. Where I make Bruce seem like a decent person. No… no… it can’t be true. He can’t—

I can’t stop myself. I don’t even know what I’m doing. But my blood’s boiling like a pot of noodles, my head pounding like a drum, and my heart might explode out of my chest. I throw the door open with a bang. Both Alfred and Bruce look up at me, startled. 

Alfred’s face goes white, and his eyes drop, the smoky blues weeping. Bruce looks at me in surprise, but that does not last long. Two seconds pass, and his gaze is as stony and steely as a wall. 

“H-how dare you.” I thought I’d scream, but my voice’s frighteningly, even as if someone else is speaking. It must be someone else because I’m shaking so much I might just topple over. “How dare you!” I point at him, my finger trembling. “I never asked for any of this! I never asked anything from you! I was fine with you never being around, but some little love and attention would be nice, don’t you think?”

My vision blurs, my eyes swimming. I can’t do this. I’m not doing this. But I am. This is happening. “But then I think, why would I even want to be around you?” My voice laughs, but it’s throbbing in my ears. “You’re a jerk! A jerk who doesn’t care about other people. A jerk who puts your stupid work in front of other people!” My laugh doesn’t have any humor in it. I don’t think I have any humor left in my body. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’re other people in the world. You know, people who would actually want to be around you? Who need you?”

“Dick—”

I ignore him. He doesn’t get to talk. It’s my turn. “I’m SICK of you!” I can’t see anything anymore. All I see are blobs of color swirling. I stumble back as I see the muddy blob that’s Bruce step forward. “I didn’t ask for this! I could be back with the circus if it wasn't for you! With people who actually want me!”

“Dick—”

“But no!” I keep backing away, my fingers trembling, my lips quivering so much the words jitter out. “I’m stuck here with you! And why?” He’s closer now. I can feel him. He’s reaching out for me, but I can’t see his face. “Because you just wanted to show me off at parties to make you look good!”

“Dick, no—”

“Is that all I am to you?” I ignore the shock and softness in his voice. Instead, I hear the cold, icy words he used earlier. The way he’d talked about me. As if I was nothing. As if I was an inconvenience. “A Charity Case?”

“Dick—” 

His hands grab me. They hold my wrists. They feel like Zucco’s, like everyone who’s tried to take me. Like all the people who passed me on from place to place, never once asking what I wanted. Not even Alfred. 

“Get away from me!” Now I scream. And I hit. I slam my legs into his chest, smacking the solid mass of muscle, but twist my arms out of his grasp at the same time. I slam onto my side on the freezing wooden planks, swiping the snot away with my arm. My hand rests on something hard, something solid. The folder. 

“Dick—”

“No!” I jump up and swing, the folder bashing him across the face. “Get away! I hate you!”

Bruce stumbles back, his hand clutching his nose. The folder falls out of my hands, papers scattering all over the floor. I can see now. I can see the hurt on Bruce’s face, the blood leaking from his fingers, the way he regains his footing— and looks right at me. 

I was blazing, then I was cold. Now, I’m numb. My arms go limp. What’ve I done? What did I just do? What did I just say?

I stumble back, shaking my head. Alfred motions for me to come closer, but I can’t stay. I can’t stay here! Not with Bruce looking at me like that. So I do the only thing I can think of. I turn and run. I run as fast as my feet can carry me. I run down the halls, my feet slipping and sliding on the polished wood. I can’t get out of here, so I hide in the one place they’ll never look: a random sitting room in front of a roaring fireplace. I collapse and curl into the huge armchair. I curl over myself, my shoulders shaking, my breath hiccupping, and I cry. 

What’ve I done?

To be Continued...