Chapter 10 -Scarecrow
I ran in the billow smoke and falling debris, yelling, "Batman, Batman? Where are you? Talk to me – please! Don't die. Batman!"
No answer came back, and I began climbing over the crumbling chunks of the bank as fast as I could. Panic filled me; I could barely breathe and the smoke made my eyes water.
I stumbled over rumble and fell to my hands and knees.
"Oh, delightful," a voice smirked over my head.
I looked up to see the Scarecrow towering over me, the burlap bag over his head.
"And the children looked up in fear and begged for a savior," the Scarecrow raised his hands. "But no answer came to save them."
It sounded like he was quoting a book, but I've never read a book like that, and I hated him right then.
I flung my body at him, pivoting on my arms and kicking him solidly in the knee. He fell down with a cry.
"Nooo!" he moaned, clutching at his knee. "No, I wasn't finished. You have to let me get my lines in."
"Bastard," I screamed at him. I drove my elbow into his back, and he fell forward with a grunt.
"You killed him!" I screamed. "You killed Batman, and you're gonna pay."
I ripped his mask off, and he looked up at me, terrified. Like the Riddler, Jonathan Crane didn't seem older than a college student, but I didn't care if he looked like a homeless puppy – he was going to die.
I began to use every move Bruce had every taught me: karate chops, punches from the shoulder, even head butting. Crane covered his head and squalled like a baby, and I would have laughed at his cowardice, only I wanted to tear his throat out.
"Please!" Crane wailed.
I grabbed two handfuls of his hair. "I'm gonna rip your scalp off!" I screamed.
Two strong hands grabbed me from behind, but I kept my grip on Crane's hair, and he shrieked in agony as I was pulled back.
"Let him go," a stern voice commanded from behind me.
I knew the voice, I had heard a softer version of it everyday for the last five years. I let go of Crane – he faceplanted in the rumble with a grunt – and I whirled around and hugged the dark figure behind me. I buried my face in his solid chest, smashing my masked face against the bulletproof suit.
"I thought you were dead," I sobbed.
"Shh," he whispered, hugging me close. "Keep it together. You can't tell them who I am. I know you're upset – we'll talk later. I'm alive and you have to hold yourself together."
I nodded and Batman let go of me.
Crane was still groaning on the ground, and Batman used his steel boots to roll him around. Crane stared up at us blankly for a second, blood oozing gently from his nose.
"Get him," Crane pointed a shaky finger at me. "He tried to kill me."
"This is Robin, my new partner," Batman replied.
"Wha-what?" Cane pushed himself to his elbows. "He started pounding me. You're good guys – you're not supposed to hurt me."
"I'm not a good guy," Batman snarled in that low gravelly voice that strikes fear into everyone (including me). "I'm the Dark Knight. And right now, Crane, I'm your worst nightmare."
It felt so good to stand beside him. I swiped away the last of my tears and copied his stance, glaring down at Crane, too.
"I've heard that before," Crane scoffed.
"Do you want to hear the sound of my fist knocking you unconscious?"
"No," Crane sneered, looking ugly and sulky.
"Why did you blow up this bank?" Batman demanded.
"I'm not telling you."
"You can me now or I can dangle you over the river from a crane until you decide to talk."
"Ha," I jeered. "Crane hanging from a crane."
"Shut up," Crane told me. "You deserve to be locked up for what you did. If you broke my nose –"
"You blew up a bank," Batman interrupted. "You could have killed many people. You may have, as it is. Start talking."
"Well, Riddler was supposed to divert you long enough for me to get away with the money. But since that crybaby can't do anything except brag about his own useless talents, I guess I'm on my own," Crane retorted. "I wanted money – loads and loads of it so I could build . . . something."
"Something?" I wanted to make a face. Criminals were so stupid. "Like a giant rocket?"
"No," Crane glared at me.
"A beam to vaporize all of Gotham?"
"No."
"A huge criminal organization where you can brainwash soldiers into your thugs and you'll have an army big enough to take over Gotham?"
"No," but Crane looked very thoughtful.
"Don't give him ideas," Batman lectured. "Well, Crane?"
"Hey, I got out of Arkham and I was practically living on the streets," Crane raise his hand to his nose and then scowled at the blood which coated his fingers. "You have no idea what that can do to a man like me. I understand the human brain like no one else. I want to build a laboratory where I can take the brain to its farthest reaches, explore the mind like never before."
"Crane," Batman sounded frustrated, "you can't build a lab to test on human subjects. No one would volunteer, and then you'd be kidnapping, and then guess who would show up to drag you back to Arkham?"
"You don't scare me, Batman. You belong in a padded cell with the rest of us. And once I have my lab, I'm going to lock you up in it to find what's in the Bat's mind. And once I get you drooling in a straightjacket, I'm coming after your little partner, too." Crane snapped his teeth at me.
Batman suddenly reached out and grabbed the back of Crane's neck, hoisting him into the air. Crane gave a high shriek, but Batman held him up, eyes blaring with rage.
"Don't threaten my partner," Batman ground out each word.
"Oh," Crane garbled, trying to still look scary, "what you're going to do? Face it, Bats, you don't have the nerve to deal with me. You never did, and I'll do what I like, including experimenting on people's minds and dissecting their brains."
Batman said nothing for a second and then he slowly lowered Crane to the ground.
"Ha," Crane rubbed the back of his neck and tried to look tough, "I knew it. Under that suit, you're just a pail of slimy worm guts begging for someone to notice you."
"Maybe," Batman reached to his belt and then brought his hand up to Crane's face, "but this pail of worm guts thinks it's best to give you a dose of your own medicine."
"You're going to blow up something?"
"No," Batman replied, "I'm giving you a taste of that fear toxin you enjoyed years ago."
I blinked, but Batman was already spraying something into Crane's face. It must have been awful because Crane started screaming and batting his hand in front of his hand.
"No, no, get back you monster!" he hollered at Batman. "Fire's coming out of your eyes. And the spiders are everywhere."
I jumped, glancing around me. Fortunately, I saw no spiders, but then Crane was staring at me with wide, crazy eyes.
"He's flying," Crane thrust a shaking finger at me. "He's flapping his wings and rising off the air, like a pterodactyl, but his teeth are growing!"
I wasn't moving, but I watched fascinated while Crane freaked out. He fell to his hands and knees at Batman's feet, begging and sobbing and acting like a four-year-old. It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
Batman took out a length of cord and pushed Crane on his back. Crane bawled, but Batman tied his hands behind his back and then bound his feet together. Then Batman slung Crane over his shoulder and started marching through the debris.
All the smoke had cleared by now, and I could see a truck waiting in the distance. Three goons were tied up and piled on the open back, knocked out.
I followed Batman, and walking behind him, I could do stuff only Crane could see and not Batman. I know it wasn't nice, but I pulled my gloved hands into claws by my face and bared me teeth, lurching forward like I was a monster about to eat him.
Crane freaked out, bucking over Batman's shoulder. "It's gong to kill me," he screamed.
Batman tightened his grip around the writhing criminal. "Settle down, Crane," he ordered.
Crane relaxed the smallest bit, and then I jumped at him again. He resumed bucking, and Batman threatened to knock him out. I did it two more times, and then Batman whirled around and gave me a Look.
I jerked to a stop, guilty. "Well, he deserves it," I muttered.
Batman shifted Crane's body up an inch. "In front, and don't push it with me."
I sighed and got in front of him to trudge to the car. I know Batman was strong, but it still had to be hard to carry Crane when he struggled. But I felt a little sense of revenge at scaring the moron after he had frightened me so badly.
We finally reached the truck and Batman set Crane down on the back of the truck.
"No, don't leave me," Crane pleaded. "Don't leave me with those monsters," he motioned with his head to the unconscious thugs.
"You won't be alone," Batman assured him. "The police well be here soon."
The moment he said that, I heard the wail of police sirens approaching. How did he know they were on the way? Someday, I hope I will know everything that happens before it happens, just like he does.
"I'm watching, Crane," Batman said, his voice low. "I'm the Dark Knight of this city, I'm its protectorate, its savior, and its vengeance. I have eyes everywhere. You can never escape me as long as you are here."
Crane gave a scream of fear, but Batman continued, "The toxin will wear off soon, but just in case you forget –" he took out a tiny metal batarang and tucked it in Crane's coat pocket – "remember my sign."
"Get it off me, get it off me!" Crane wailed.
"Let's go," Batman ordered.
We began jogging back towards the Batmobile while Crane begged us not to leave him. I wanted to turn back to make more faces, but Batman kept us going.
Of course, once we reached the car, the Riddler was gone.
"Sorry," I sighed. "I saw the explosion, and I freaked out. I opened the door and pushed him out and then I just kept running and running. I had to find you because I thought that – that," the lump came back into my throat.
"I understand," Batman said. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, we go get Edward. When I buckled you two in, I put a tracer on the back of his coat. I planned to take it off once we got him back to Arkham, but I thought I should have a mark on him in case he slipped away."
Batman is so smart. I grinned at him before getting into the car. Once he swung in and started the engine, a screen appeared on the dashboard. It showed a grid map with a single red dot blinking on it. Batman pulled the car out of the shadows and sped down the street.
He turned once, and then twice, maneuvering the Batmobile through the dark streets. A few times I thought he would hit a car or trashcan or corner of a building, but he kept speeding the car along without a scratch.
"There he is," Batman said, turning the car onto another street. "When we get him, can you be civil and not try upset him?"
"He's the bad guy," I protested, immediately falling back into my disgruntled mood. "Why do you care how I talk to him?"
"You can't go around trying to provoke criminals into action – that's counterproductive and we have two destroyed banks thanks to you."
"I didn't provoke the second one!"
"Maybe, but you didn't help. I told you to stay in the car, and I meant you to obey, Robin."
"I hate that name," I tried to change subject. "It's stupid."
"It is not," he replied.
"It's babyish. My mom used to call me that when I was little."
"I know," Batman said quietly.
I glanced up at him, but he had his eyes on the road.
"Are you going to behave yourself?" he asked suddenly.
"What? Oh, yeah, of course."
"I don't like you baiting the criminals," Batman continued, his voice stern and his lips pressed into a stern line. "You have to learn to control yourself."
"Sorry," I said again. "I think it was the coffee."
"You only had one cup."
"But Alfred gave me one, too," I confessed.
Batman opened his mouth furiously, but he only said, "We'll discuss it later."
Then he pulled the car to a halt in a dark alley and killed the engine.
"Stay in the car and obey this time," Batman commanded.
I nodded and watched as he closed his door and disappeared into the darkness of the night. I waited, trying to calm my feelings after such a horrible night.
Just when I started to get bored, Batman reappeared, marching towards the car with the Riddler, frog-marching the criminal with the Riddler's hands tied behind his back. The Riddler's face was miserable, and when he saw the car, he looked even more desperate and babyish.
"Oh," I jeered as Batman opened my door, "look who's back. Did you miss us that much?"
The Riddler got into the seat beside me, and Batman buckled us in. As the door shut, tears began rolling down the Riddler's face.
I wanted to jab him in the ribs or torture him somehow, but then Batman got in and started the car. As we pulled out of the dark alley, the Riddler kept crying just like a big baby.
"What a pussy," I said scornfully.
"Robin!" Batman barked at me, and his tone implied there would be soap if I didn't watch my mouth.
"Like a cat," I explained, though I know the other meaning of the word.
"Watch yourself," he warned.
"I don't want to go back to Arkham," the Riddler whined.
"Then you shouldn't commit crimes," Batman replied. "You've cost the city thousands in damages uy blowing up the front of that bank. Who do you think pays that? Honest, hard-working citizens who pay taxes and put their life savings into banks. You're reckless and acting out to get attention. Well, you have my attention. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The Riddler panted and cried and sniffed, but he finally said, "You know what I want. I want people to play my games, answer my riddles."
"You sound like you're five," I scoffed. "'Come and play with me' – so lame."
"You're lame," the Riddler shot back. "You look stupid in that mask and gym clothes."
"And you look stupid in green, the color of slime and – and puke."
The Riddler glared at me, but at least he had stopped crying.
"Anything else I should know about tonight?" Batman asked. "Any other Arkham inmate planning to blow up something else?"
"Not tonight, but next weekend –" the Riddler stopped short. "Wait, if I know something can I use it as leverage to make a deal?"
"You're still going back to Arkham," Batman told him.
"Yeah, but you could put in a word for me, tell them I didn't blow up the building or didn't mean to or something to keep me out of solitary for the next week. Please, don't let them put me in solitary – I go crazy in there."
"More than usual?" I asked.
"Robin," Batman scolded, but I saw his lips smile for a second.
"Please?" the Riddler sounded even more distraught.
"Fine, I'll put in a word for you," Batman agreed. "What do you know?"
"Word is that Dr. Freeze is cooking up something at Gotham Museum when the Paris Exhibit comes Friday. Something about wanting the diamonds from the crowns."
"I'll make a note of that," Batman agreed, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, and once we got to the gates of Arkham, Batman ordered me to wait in the car while he took the Riddler up. I heard the Riddler beg to be let go and then sounds of a scuffle and then silence. I knew Batman had found a way to get him up to Arkham, and I winced. He's strict as Bruce and Batman, but at least he's on my side. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have him sock me in the gut with those gloved hands or kick me in the side. Our training sessions are the roughest Bruce ever is with me, but I know he can be merciless with villains. Scary.
Suddenly the car started. I grabbed the edge of my seat, but the car began to steer itself around Arkham. I knew Batman had a remote to car with him, and I hoped he was the one steering the car and not someone.
I had once heard Alfred tell Bruce that he worried about him going to Arkham as Batman. "If they managed to subdue you in there, sir," Alfred had protested, "do you think they would ever let you out? And once they unmasked you and discovered your true identity, not all the money in Gotham could break you free of that cursed place."
I peeked up at the sprawling asylum, shuddering at the thought of Batman being caught behind the barred windows. I don't know what I would if Batman ever got locked up.
The car rolled to a stop behind the huge asylum, and I saw Batman leap from the top of the huge stone wall, barely missing the rolls of barb wire at the top.
His door opened before he got to the car, and he jumped in, staring the Batmobile and shoving it into gear.
"What happened?" I asked nervously.
"Nothing," Batman replied. "The guards are getting a little . . . pushy. I thought it would be better to leave the back way."
"Was the Riddler crying?" I smirked.
"Not too much," Batman admitted. "But I think it's time you and I had a serious talk."
"It's too late," I argued.
"No, it's barely – 3 o'clock . . ." he trailed off as he saw the clock in the dashboard. "Still, we have a few minutes on the drive home. You want to tell me why you've been so moody these last few days?"
"I haven't," I snapped.
"Yes, you've gone back and forth between being angelic good and then surly and sour. What is going on?"
I meant to reply that nothing was going on – I had just had a hard week between Selina and the girls and the Joker. I meant to explain to Batman that I was no longer a child, and I got tired of him treating me like one, and I would act older if he would treat me older and recognize that I kept doing the best I could. However, what actually came out of my mouth was,
"Al-Alfred hates me." And then I felt so tired and unhappy I almost started crying.
"What?" Batman demanded.
"He said so," I protested. I can't really keep secrets from Bruce, but keeping them from Batman is impossible. "I heard you talking the other night downstairs. He said he asked you, when you first got me, if you wanted to keep me and – and – and that means he didn't want me because he hated me.
Batman stared at me for a second.
Nervous, I glanced towards the windshield and blurted, "Batman, the road."
He jerked his head back and then swerved around a parked car. "We'll deal with this when we get home."
"I'm in trouble? How can I be in trouble when it's Alfred who hates me?"
"When we get home, Richard," Batman thundered, using my real name for the first time since we left the Manor.
I sank back into my seat. It felt like I had a lump of lead in my stomach, but at least I would finally be getting some answers. I only hoped Batman, er – Bruce, wouldn't do anything to make Alfred more upset.
No answer came back, and I began climbing over the crumbling chunks of the bank as fast as I could. Panic filled me; I could barely breathe and the smoke made my eyes water.
I stumbled over rumble and fell to my hands and knees.
"Oh, delightful," a voice smirked over my head.
I looked up to see the Scarecrow towering over me, the burlap bag over his head.
"And the children looked up in fear and begged for a savior," the Scarecrow raised his hands. "But no answer came to save them."
It sounded like he was quoting a book, but I've never read a book like that, and I hated him right then.
I flung my body at him, pivoting on my arms and kicking him solidly in the knee. He fell down with a cry.
"Nooo!" he moaned, clutching at his knee. "No, I wasn't finished. You have to let me get my lines in."
"Bastard," I screamed at him. I drove my elbow into his back, and he fell forward with a grunt.
"You killed him!" I screamed. "You killed Batman, and you're gonna pay."
I ripped his mask off, and he looked up at me, terrified. Like the Riddler, Jonathan Crane didn't seem older than a college student, but I didn't care if he looked like a homeless puppy – he was going to die.
I began to use every move Bruce had every taught me: karate chops, punches from the shoulder, even head butting. Crane covered his head and squalled like a baby, and I would have laughed at his cowardice, only I wanted to tear his throat out.
"Please!" Crane wailed.
I grabbed two handfuls of his hair. "I'm gonna rip your scalp off!" I screamed.
Two strong hands grabbed me from behind, but I kept my grip on Crane's hair, and he shrieked in agony as I was pulled back.
"Let him go," a stern voice commanded from behind me.
I knew the voice, I had heard a softer version of it everyday for the last five years. I let go of Crane – he faceplanted in the rumble with a grunt – and I whirled around and hugged the dark figure behind me. I buried my face in his solid chest, smashing my masked face against the bulletproof suit.
"I thought you were dead," I sobbed.
"Shh," he whispered, hugging me close. "Keep it together. You can't tell them who I am. I know you're upset – we'll talk later. I'm alive and you have to hold yourself together."
I nodded and Batman let go of me.
Crane was still groaning on the ground, and Batman used his steel boots to roll him around. Crane stared up at us blankly for a second, blood oozing gently from his nose.
"Get him," Crane pointed a shaky finger at me. "He tried to kill me."
"This is Robin, my new partner," Batman replied.
"Wha-what?" Cane pushed himself to his elbows. "He started pounding me. You're good guys – you're not supposed to hurt me."
"I'm not a good guy," Batman snarled in that low gravelly voice that strikes fear into everyone (including me). "I'm the Dark Knight. And right now, Crane, I'm your worst nightmare."
It felt so good to stand beside him. I swiped away the last of my tears and copied his stance, glaring down at Crane, too.
"I've heard that before," Crane scoffed.
"Do you want to hear the sound of my fist knocking you unconscious?"
"No," Crane sneered, looking ugly and sulky.
"Why did you blow up this bank?" Batman demanded.
"I'm not telling you."
"You can me now or I can dangle you over the river from a crane until you decide to talk."
"Ha," I jeered. "Crane hanging from a crane."
"Shut up," Crane told me. "You deserve to be locked up for what you did. If you broke my nose –"
"You blew up a bank," Batman interrupted. "You could have killed many people. You may have, as it is. Start talking."
"Well, Riddler was supposed to divert you long enough for me to get away with the money. But since that crybaby can't do anything except brag about his own useless talents, I guess I'm on my own," Crane retorted. "I wanted money – loads and loads of it so I could build . . . something."
"Something?" I wanted to make a face. Criminals were so stupid. "Like a giant rocket?"
"No," Crane glared at me.
"A beam to vaporize all of Gotham?"
"No."
"A huge criminal organization where you can brainwash soldiers into your thugs and you'll have an army big enough to take over Gotham?"
"No," but Crane looked very thoughtful.
"Don't give him ideas," Batman lectured. "Well, Crane?"
"Hey, I got out of Arkham and I was practically living on the streets," Crane raise his hand to his nose and then scowled at the blood which coated his fingers. "You have no idea what that can do to a man like me. I understand the human brain like no one else. I want to build a laboratory where I can take the brain to its farthest reaches, explore the mind like never before."
"Crane," Batman sounded frustrated, "you can't build a lab to test on human subjects. No one would volunteer, and then you'd be kidnapping, and then guess who would show up to drag you back to Arkham?"
"You don't scare me, Batman. You belong in a padded cell with the rest of us. And once I have my lab, I'm going to lock you up in it to find what's in the Bat's mind. And once I get you drooling in a straightjacket, I'm coming after your little partner, too." Crane snapped his teeth at me.
Batman suddenly reached out and grabbed the back of Crane's neck, hoisting him into the air. Crane gave a high shriek, but Batman held him up, eyes blaring with rage.
"Don't threaten my partner," Batman ground out each word.
"Oh," Crane garbled, trying to still look scary, "what you're going to do? Face it, Bats, you don't have the nerve to deal with me. You never did, and I'll do what I like, including experimenting on people's minds and dissecting their brains."
Batman said nothing for a second and then he slowly lowered Crane to the ground.
"Ha," Crane rubbed the back of his neck and tried to look tough, "I knew it. Under that suit, you're just a pail of slimy worm guts begging for someone to notice you."
"Maybe," Batman reached to his belt and then brought his hand up to Crane's face, "but this pail of worm guts thinks it's best to give you a dose of your own medicine."
"You're going to blow up something?"
"No," Batman replied, "I'm giving you a taste of that fear toxin you enjoyed years ago."
I blinked, but Batman was already spraying something into Crane's face. It must have been awful because Crane started screaming and batting his hand in front of his hand.
"No, no, get back you monster!" he hollered at Batman. "Fire's coming out of your eyes. And the spiders are everywhere."
I jumped, glancing around me. Fortunately, I saw no spiders, but then Crane was staring at me with wide, crazy eyes.
"He's flying," Crane thrust a shaking finger at me. "He's flapping his wings and rising off the air, like a pterodactyl, but his teeth are growing!"
I wasn't moving, but I watched fascinated while Crane freaked out. He fell to his hands and knees at Batman's feet, begging and sobbing and acting like a four-year-old. It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
Batman took out a length of cord and pushed Crane on his back. Crane bawled, but Batman tied his hands behind his back and then bound his feet together. Then Batman slung Crane over his shoulder and started marching through the debris.
All the smoke had cleared by now, and I could see a truck waiting in the distance. Three goons were tied up and piled on the open back, knocked out.
I followed Batman, and walking behind him, I could do stuff only Crane could see and not Batman. I know it wasn't nice, but I pulled my gloved hands into claws by my face and bared me teeth, lurching forward like I was a monster about to eat him.
Crane freaked out, bucking over Batman's shoulder. "It's gong to kill me," he screamed.
Batman tightened his grip around the writhing criminal. "Settle down, Crane," he ordered.
Crane relaxed the smallest bit, and then I jumped at him again. He resumed bucking, and Batman threatened to knock him out. I did it two more times, and then Batman whirled around and gave me a Look.
I jerked to a stop, guilty. "Well, he deserves it," I muttered.
Batman shifted Crane's body up an inch. "In front, and don't push it with me."
I sighed and got in front of him to trudge to the car. I know Batman was strong, but it still had to be hard to carry Crane when he struggled. But I felt a little sense of revenge at scaring the moron after he had frightened me so badly.
We finally reached the truck and Batman set Crane down on the back of the truck.
"No, don't leave me," Crane pleaded. "Don't leave me with those monsters," he motioned with his head to the unconscious thugs.
"You won't be alone," Batman assured him. "The police well be here soon."
The moment he said that, I heard the wail of police sirens approaching. How did he know they were on the way? Someday, I hope I will know everything that happens before it happens, just like he does.
"I'm watching, Crane," Batman said, his voice low. "I'm the Dark Knight of this city, I'm its protectorate, its savior, and its vengeance. I have eyes everywhere. You can never escape me as long as you are here."
Crane gave a scream of fear, but Batman continued, "The toxin will wear off soon, but just in case you forget –" he took out a tiny metal batarang and tucked it in Crane's coat pocket – "remember my sign."
"Get it off me, get it off me!" Crane wailed.
"Let's go," Batman ordered.
We began jogging back towards the Batmobile while Crane begged us not to leave him. I wanted to turn back to make more faces, but Batman kept us going.
Of course, once we reached the car, the Riddler was gone.
"Sorry," I sighed. "I saw the explosion, and I freaked out. I opened the door and pushed him out and then I just kept running and running. I had to find you because I thought that – that," the lump came back into my throat.
"I understand," Batman said. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, we go get Edward. When I buckled you two in, I put a tracer on the back of his coat. I planned to take it off once we got him back to Arkham, but I thought I should have a mark on him in case he slipped away."
Batman is so smart. I grinned at him before getting into the car. Once he swung in and started the engine, a screen appeared on the dashboard. It showed a grid map with a single red dot blinking on it. Batman pulled the car out of the shadows and sped down the street.
He turned once, and then twice, maneuvering the Batmobile through the dark streets. A few times I thought he would hit a car or trashcan or corner of a building, but he kept speeding the car along without a scratch.
"There he is," Batman said, turning the car onto another street. "When we get him, can you be civil and not try upset him?"
"He's the bad guy," I protested, immediately falling back into my disgruntled mood. "Why do you care how I talk to him?"
"You can't go around trying to provoke criminals into action – that's counterproductive and we have two destroyed banks thanks to you."
"I didn't provoke the second one!"
"Maybe, but you didn't help. I told you to stay in the car, and I meant you to obey, Robin."
"I hate that name," I tried to change subject. "It's stupid."
"It is not," he replied.
"It's babyish. My mom used to call me that when I was little."
"I know," Batman said quietly.
I glanced up at him, but he had his eyes on the road.
"Are you going to behave yourself?" he asked suddenly.
"What? Oh, yeah, of course."
"I don't like you baiting the criminals," Batman continued, his voice stern and his lips pressed into a stern line. "You have to learn to control yourself."
"Sorry," I said again. "I think it was the coffee."
"You only had one cup."
"But Alfred gave me one, too," I confessed.
Batman opened his mouth furiously, but he only said, "We'll discuss it later."
Then he pulled the car to a halt in a dark alley and killed the engine.
"Stay in the car and obey this time," Batman commanded.
I nodded and watched as he closed his door and disappeared into the darkness of the night. I waited, trying to calm my feelings after such a horrible night.
Just when I started to get bored, Batman reappeared, marching towards the car with the Riddler, frog-marching the criminal with the Riddler's hands tied behind his back. The Riddler's face was miserable, and when he saw the car, he looked even more desperate and babyish.
"Oh," I jeered as Batman opened my door, "look who's back. Did you miss us that much?"
The Riddler got into the seat beside me, and Batman buckled us in. As the door shut, tears began rolling down the Riddler's face.
I wanted to jab him in the ribs or torture him somehow, but then Batman got in and started the car. As we pulled out of the dark alley, the Riddler kept crying just like a big baby.
"What a pussy," I said scornfully.
"Robin!" Batman barked at me, and his tone implied there would be soap if I didn't watch my mouth.
"Like a cat," I explained, though I know the other meaning of the word.
"Watch yourself," he warned.
"I don't want to go back to Arkham," the Riddler whined.
"Then you shouldn't commit crimes," Batman replied. "You've cost the city thousands in damages uy blowing up the front of that bank. Who do you think pays that? Honest, hard-working citizens who pay taxes and put their life savings into banks. You're reckless and acting out to get attention. Well, you have my attention. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The Riddler panted and cried and sniffed, but he finally said, "You know what I want. I want people to play my games, answer my riddles."
"You sound like you're five," I scoffed. "'Come and play with me' – so lame."
"You're lame," the Riddler shot back. "You look stupid in that mask and gym clothes."
"And you look stupid in green, the color of slime and – and puke."
The Riddler glared at me, but at least he had stopped crying.
"Anything else I should know about tonight?" Batman asked. "Any other Arkham inmate planning to blow up something else?"
"Not tonight, but next weekend –" the Riddler stopped short. "Wait, if I know something can I use it as leverage to make a deal?"
"You're still going back to Arkham," Batman told him.
"Yeah, but you could put in a word for me, tell them I didn't blow up the building or didn't mean to or something to keep me out of solitary for the next week. Please, don't let them put me in solitary – I go crazy in there."
"More than usual?" I asked.
"Robin," Batman scolded, but I saw his lips smile for a second.
"Please?" the Riddler sounded even more distraught.
"Fine, I'll put in a word for you," Batman agreed. "What do you know?"
"Word is that Dr. Freeze is cooking up something at Gotham Museum when the Paris Exhibit comes Friday. Something about wanting the diamonds from the crowns."
"I'll make a note of that," Batman agreed, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, and once we got to the gates of Arkham, Batman ordered me to wait in the car while he took the Riddler up. I heard the Riddler beg to be let go and then sounds of a scuffle and then silence. I knew Batman had found a way to get him up to Arkham, and I winced. He's strict as Bruce and Batman, but at least he's on my side. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have him sock me in the gut with those gloved hands or kick me in the side. Our training sessions are the roughest Bruce ever is with me, but I know he can be merciless with villains. Scary.
Suddenly the car started. I grabbed the edge of my seat, but the car began to steer itself around Arkham. I knew Batman had a remote to car with him, and I hoped he was the one steering the car and not someone.
I had once heard Alfred tell Bruce that he worried about him going to Arkham as Batman. "If they managed to subdue you in there, sir," Alfred had protested, "do you think they would ever let you out? And once they unmasked you and discovered your true identity, not all the money in Gotham could break you free of that cursed place."
I peeked up at the sprawling asylum, shuddering at the thought of Batman being caught behind the barred windows. I don't know what I would if Batman ever got locked up.
The car rolled to a stop behind the huge asylum, and I saw Batman leap from the top of the huge stone wall, barely missing the rolls of barb wire at the top.
His door opened before he got to the car, and he jumped in, staring the Batmobile and shoving it into gear.
"What happened?" I asked nervously.
"Nothing," Batman replied. "The guards are getting a little . . . pushy. I thought it would be better to leave the back way."
"Was the Riddler crying?" I smirked.
"Not too much," Batman admitted. "But I think it's time you and I had a serious talk."
"It's too late," I argued.
"No, it's barely – 3 o'clock . . ." he trailed off as he saw the clock in the dashboard. "Still, we have a few minutes on the drive home. You want to tell me why you've been so moody these last few days?"
"I haven't," I snapped.
"Yes, you've gone back and forth between being angelic good and then surly and sour. What is going on?"
I meant to reply that nothing was going on – I had just had a hard week between Selina and the girls and the Joker. I meant to explain to Batman that I was no longer a child, and I got tired of him treating me like one, and I would act older if he would treat me older and recognize that I kept doing the best I could. However, what actually came out of my mouth was,
"Al-Alfred hates me." And then I felt so tired and unhappy I almost started crying.
"What?" Batman demanded.
"He said so," I protested. I can't really keep secrets from Bruce, but keeping them from Batman is impossible. "I heard you talking the other night downstairs. He said he asked you, when you first got me, if you wanted to keep me and – and – and that means he didn't want me because he hated me.
Batman stared at me for a second.
Nervous, I glanced towards the windshield and blurted, "Batman, the road."
He jerked his head back and then swerved around a parked car. "We'll deal with this when we get home."
"I'm in trouble? How can I be in trouble when it's Alfred who hates me?"
"When we get home, Richard," Batman thundered, using my real name for the first time since we left the Manor.
I sank back into my seat. It felt like I had a lump of lead in my stomach, but at least I would finally be getting some answers. I only hoped Batman, er – Bruce, wouldn't do anything to make Alfred more upset.