Three Years Later - The Batcave
The cave was louder than it used to be.
"You're too slow, old man!"
Dick Grayson—now nineteen years old—flipped over the Batcomputer's console. He wasn't the small boy in the tunic anymore. He was six feet of lean muscle, wearing a sleek, armored version of the Robin suit.
Batman stood in the center of the training ring, panting slightly. He was heavier, scarred, slower than he had been three years ago. The war on crime had taken its toll.
"Focus, Robin," Batman grunted, throwing a sparring punch. "You're showing off. Efficiency over flair."
"Flair is the point!" Dick dodged, landing a kick on Batman's chest plate. "The criminals are scared of you. They're confused by me. That's the dynamic!"
Dick landed and spun, his escrima sticks crackling with electricity.
"I'm not a sidekick anymore, Bruce. I'm leading the Titans. I'm handling Blüdhaven on the weekends. Stop treating me like I'm twelve."
"I treat you like a soldier who needs to survive," Bruce snapped.
"No," Dick retorted, his voice hard. "You treat me like a weapon you built. And I'm tired of being holstered."
I stood on the upper platform, polishing the glass case of the giant penny. I watched them with ancient, tired eyes.
"Puberty," I sighed to myself. "It ruins perfectly good children."
The Argument - Wayne Manor Study
Later that night, the tension boiled over.
Bruce was drinking scotch. Dick was packing a bag.
"You missed the briefing," Bruce said, not looking up from his files. "Killer Croc is moving in the sewers. We need to sweep the drainage grid."
"I have a date, Bruce," Dick said, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. "With Kory. Starfire. Remember her? The alien princess you barely acknowledge?"
"The mission comes first."
"For you," Dick slammed his hand on the desk. "The mission comes first for you. That's why you're alone. That's why Harvey is gone. That's why Selina left."
The room went deadly silent.
"Dick," I warned from the doorway, holding a tray of sandwiches. "You are venturing into dangerous territory."
"No, Sebastian," Dick turned to me. "You know it's true. He consumes everything. He wants everyone to be just as miserable as he is. Well, I'm not Batman. I don't want to be the night. I want to have a life."
Dick looked at Bruce.
"I quit."
Bruce didn't move. He didn't yell. He just took a sip of his drink.
"If you walk out that door," Bruce said quietly, "you leave the suit."
Dick laughed. A bitter, short sound.
"Keep it. It was too tight anyway."
Dick walked out. He didn't look back.
I set the tray down. I walked to the window and watched the young man get into his car and drive away down the long, winding driveway.
"He will be back, sir," I lied.
"No," Bruce whispered. "He won't."
The house felt emptier than it had in years. The light had left. Only the shadows remained.
Crime Alley - Two Weeks Later
Bruce Wayne didn't handle loss well. He handled it by working harder.
For two weeks, Batman patrolled alone. He was brutal. He broke bones he usually would have bruised. He terrified the criminals.
I drove the Batmobile, idling in the shadows of Crime Alley—the place where his parents died. It was his pilgrimage site.
"Young Master," I said over the comms. "You have been awake for forty-eight hours. Your reflexes are degrading by 15%."
"I'm fine," Batman's voice crackled. "I'm checking the tires. The Batmobile is registering a pressure drop."
Batman walked around the corner to where the massive, armored car was parked.
He stopped.
I watched on the rear camera monitor.
There was a kid. A scrawny, dirty street rat, maybe twelve years old. He had a tire iron. And he was currently trying to pry the lug nuts off the Batmobile's tires.
The sheer audacity was breathtaking.
"Hey!" Batman growled, stepping out of the shadows.
Most kids would have run. Most kids would have wet themselves seeing the Batman.
This kid didn't run.
He stood up, holding the tire iron like a baseball bat. He had messy black hair and blue eyes that burned with a furious, defiant anger.
"Back off, Dracula!" the kid shouted. "I saw it first!"
Batman blinked. He looked at the tire iron. He looked at the kid.
"You're stealing the tires... off the Batmobile?"
"Yeah? So what?" The kid spat. "You gonna arrest me for being hungry? Do it. Free meals in Juvie."
Batman stared at him. He saw the anger. He saw the fearlessness. He saw a boy with nothing to lose.
He saw himself. And he saw the hole that Dick had left.
Batman lowered his guard.
"What's your name?"
"Jason," the kid sneered. "Jason Todd."
"You have guts, Jason," Batman said. "But you have terrible form."
Batman reached into his belt. He didn't pull out handcuffs. He pulled out a protein bar.
"Are you hungry?"
Jason hesitated. He lowered the tire iron. He snatched the bar and ripped it open, eating it like a starving wolf.
"Sebastian," Batman said into the comms.
"Yes, sir?"
"Unlock the rear door."
"Sir," I said, a note of warning in my voice. "You cannot simply replace one child with another. They are not goldfish."
"He has potential," Bruce said. "He has fire."
"He has a tire iron, sir. And he just threatened you with it."
"Unlock the door."
I sighed. I pressed the button. The rear door hissed open.
"Get in," Batman said to the boy. "I'm going to show you something better than stealing tires."
Jason looked at the car. He looked at the dark knight.
"Does it have a heater?" Jason asked.
"Yes."
"Good enough."
Jason hopped in.
Wayne Manor - The Next Morning
I walked into the kitchen to find a disaster.
Mud was tracked across the floor. An entire loaf of bread had been devoured. And sitting on the counter, smoking a cigarette (which he had stolen from somewhere), was Jason Todd.
He looked at me. I looked at him.
"Who the hell are you?" Jason asked, blowing smoke in my direction. "The butler?"
"I am Sebastian Michaelis," I said, walking over and plucking the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers. I crushed it instantly. "And in this house, we do not smoke. We also do not put our feet on the granite."
Jason sneered. "Make me move them, Jeeves."
I smiled. My eyes flashed red for a microsecond.
I grabbed his ankle.
"As you wish."
I flipped him.
Jason yelped as he went airborne, landing face-first in a pile of laundry I had prepared.
"Hey!" Jason scrambled up, fists raised. "You wanna go, old man?"
"I do not 'wanna go,'" I dusted off my hands. "I wish to prepare breakfast. Now, go wash your hands. The water is that clear liquid that comes out of the faucet. Use soap."
Jason stared at me. He wasn't scared. He was... intrigued.
"You're weird," Jason muttered. "But you're fast."
He walked to the sink.
Bruce walked in, wearing his bathrobe. He looked at Jason, then at me.
"How is he settling in?"
"He is feral, unwashed, and possesses the manners of a badger," I reported. "He is perfect."
Bruce cracked a small smile.
"Training starts at 0800," Bruce said to Jason. "Don't be late."
As Bruce walked out, Jason looked at me.
"Does he always talk like a robot?"
"Mostly," I said, placing a plate of eggs in front of him. "Eat up, Master Jason. You are going to need the energy. Being a Robin is a very demanding job."
Jason stopped chewing. "Robin? Who said anything about being Robin?"
"Oh," I smirked. "You didn't think you were here for your charming personality, did you?"
I leaned in.
"Welcome to the circus, little bird. Try not to fall."
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