Chapter 9 “Ryan’s Epiphany”

It’s half past 11 PM by the clock on the nightstand. Ryan is clothed back in his jeans and t-shirt, and has just finished his whopper and rubbery fries… “birthday dinner,” courtesy of his friend Dick. He wipes his mouth with a paper napkin and looks over at Dick sleeping peacefully in his restraints. Ryan has loosened Dick’s restraints considerably for comfort, and has removed and packed away the leather ensemble; hood, ball-gag, harness, etc., with the exception of the current bonds. Ryan toweled off Dick and loosed his ankles long enough to re-dress him in his underpants and black jeans, so that the guy could retain some of his dignity when Shawn and Vince arrive to collect him at midnight. Dick now slumbers shirtless with his head craned in the opposite direction from the table were Ryan sits.

“I hope you and Mr. Wayne square things away, Dick,” says Ryan to Dick. Dick does not respond. He is exhausted—trounced from the strapping and rough sex. Still sleeping, observes Ryan. No wonder! Dick seemed to really get off when I whaled his ass, and then fucked him good. Dang, almost screamed like a girl… till he got used to me; then shot his load two or three times rubbing on that mattress, while I alternately put the strap and meat to him, repeatedly. Tight boy, indeed. Never been plundered. And me, with just my seven and a half, took Mr. Niner’s cherry to kingdom come. Damn, he hollered, but could hardly be heard. Then cooed out like a baby…. Shame we couldn’t continue. Sure was worth the union, regardless. He sure knew how to drill me. Loved it, really. Why I let him, arrogant or not.

Ryan is suddenly aware of Dick’s mysterious knapsack in the corner. Wonder what’s in that fucking bag he’s constantly lugging around? Ryan gets up and heads to the unoccupied bed and picks-up Dick’s keys which now lay next to boy’s red tank top and wallet. Dick stirs in the loose restraints as Ryan grabs the knapsack. He eventually finds the key on the ring that unlocks the bag’s small gold padlock. He opens the knapsack and dumps the contents on the floor.

“What the fuck!” exclaims Ryan in disbelief. Spread out on the carpet before him is a “Robin, the Boy Wonder’s” costume—dark green bodysuit, dark red tunic, black boots, and black cape with a yellow underside. He shakes the bag again and a black mask, a pair of scalloped dark green gloves, and a dull yellow metal belt of some kind tumble out and fall to the floor. Ryan looks at Dick, and then at the easily recognizable and well-known costume sprawled on the carpet!

“No way!” says Ryan excitedly. “Robin?! Dick Smith, Dick Grayson, Robin—who the fuck else are you, Dick?”

Ryan grabs the newspaper off the table and looks at the picture of Robin. Dick is a dead ringer for Robin, if you know what you’re looking for! The realization sets in quickly: Dick Grayson is Robin! 

Ryan tosses the paper to the table, pushes back at his blond hair, as his mind races. What is going on here? What have I done? I just strapped the snot out of Robin—and then fucked him?! He looks at the costume again, and suddenly realizes this is more than reuniting a boy with his guardian! This was a trap, by criminals… to capture Robin! And I was the unwitting stooge! What will they do with Robin – kill him – ransom him – use him to bring down Batman? Suddenly Ryan turns pale. If Dick Grayson is Robin… Bruce Wayne is… Batman! Fuck! I know too much, now that I’ve seen Robin’s costume, and know his secret identity! What will they do with me? “FUCK!” screams Ryan out loud! “THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!”

“Hey, Ryan,” calls Dick. The outburst has awakened Dick, who is looking over at Ryan with a slight smile. Ryan whirls around to see Dick stretching and yawning in the loose restraints peering at him through hazed, sleepy blue eyes.

“You were awesome, Ryan… we have to do this again… and real soon. Thanks for cleaning me up and dressing me,” says Dick as he looks towards the foot of the bed. Then frowns. “Hey… why am I still tied down?”

Chapter 10 “ZAP! CRACKLE! POP!”

“Dick – Robin – two men are coming for you soon,” shouts Ryan excitedly to Dick as he approaches the bed.

“What…,” asks Dick bewildered? He then notices the pieces of his costume scattered across the carpet, and instinctively pulls at the restraints hard, suddenly alert.

“Dick, I knew you were Dick Grayson, and not Dick Smith… for days. But I didn’t know you were “Robin” until just seconds ago. I was curious – I opened your bag.…” explains Ryan with a red face.

“What…?” asks Dick. “You knew I was Grayson! Who is coming for me?”

“Two men – told me you were really Dick Grayson, not Smith. They said they needed my help to get Dick Grayson – I mean you – back to Wayne Manor so Bruce Wayne could patch things up with you,” rattles off Ryan.

“Ryan! Listen… calm down. Hurry, get me out of these fucking… things now!” demands Dick. He urgently shakes his strong arms in the restraints holding him face down on the bed.

“The men told they worked for Bruce. But now, I think this whole thing was really a trap to capture Robin,” explains Ryan excitedly. He hastily begins to unbuckle one of the wrist restraints, but is flustered and has difficulty with the buckle!

“I’ve figured that out, myself…” says Robin impatiently, as Ryan still fumbles with the buckle.

“… They came to me last week, said they worked for your guardian, Bruce Wayne. Paid me quite a bundle to, to… capture you, I guess. And turn you over to them at midnight, tonight!” blurts out Ryan as he begins to panic. “Unbuckle the fucking…” demands Dick.

Suddenly, without even a knock, the door to the motel room swings opens. “I’m a few minutes early,” says Shawn as he enters the motel room. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” noticing the easily recognizable costume scattered on the carpeted floor.

Vince follows and stands menacingly in the open doorway, arms crossed, expressionless as always.

“Who are you?” demands Dick as he pulls wildly at the restraints.

 “Vince, please—silence Robin,” directs Shawn.

Vince approaches the struggling Robin, carrying a slender black metal wand.

“Ryan, please stand aside,” orders Shawn as he brandishes a revolver, and shuts the door to the motel room. 

Ryan, speechless and frightened, obeys; Vince moves to stand over the shirtless boy restrained on the bed. Nonchalantly, Vince extends the wand.

“No!” screams the frantic Robin, as he pulls hard on the restraints. Vince sticks the wand close against Robin’s ribs. There is a loud, electrical “zap, crack, and pop.” The discharge stuns Dick, and he relaxes in the restraints, dazed. Vince jams the wand into Robin’s ribs once more. Dick screams again, and pulls violently on his restraints for several seconds—then passes out, his face buried in the mattress. Vince sticks Robin a third time with the wand. The young stud does not move—he is unconscious.

Shawn holsters his pistol while Vince collapses the wand. Shawn looks at the costume on the floor, then at Vince, and then at Ryan. Vince and Shawn exchange a look. Vince nods. Shawn looks again at Ryan, who is cowering in the corner in disbelief at the events which have just transpired. “Ryan, please, finish dressing Dick. Release him, and get his boots and shirt on,” instructs Shawn politely.

“I, I won’t tell… any…” insists Ryan.

“Relax, Ryan,” comforts Shawn. “We’re not going to hurt you. That is… if you cooperate. Now, please, get Dick dressed. We have to leave soon.”

“Vince, a word please,” says Shawn.

Ryan, still shaken, hastily moves towards Dick and begins to unbuckle his ankle restraints. Yet aware the two men have moved to a corner of the large room, Ryan continues to attend to Dick.

Shawn whispers, “I think we have an opportunity to wrap this thing up tonight.”

“The costume… it just might work. Do you think he’ll do it… do you think he can pull it off?” asks Vince.

“Dangerous. But—surely worth the try.”

Chapter 11 “The Dark Knight Falls!”

“Several hours later, Batman is outside a hangar at Gotham City IAP responding to a signal from Dick’s utility belt. The call was not a distress call – only a signal to rendezvous as soon as possible. Batman has followed Dick’s signal, and now enters the hangar to find a C-130 transport plane docked within the structure. The hangar is dark except for dim safety lighting along the hangar’s high walls. The rear cargo door to the transport is retracted open. Batman notes the interior of the aircraft is dimly lit as well.

Batman remains in the shadows watching for a sign from Robin. Odd, no sign of Dick! Batman’s costume is predominantly black incorporating the imagery of a bat in order to frighten criminals. His long black cape is scallop-hemmed, rising to a masked cowl covering most of his face featuring a pair of bat-like ears. An engraved silhouette of a winged bat is emblazoned across the rubberized armor of his chest. Batman wears his ever-present dull gold utility belt, black gloves with three scallops that protrude from the sides, and black boots.

I’ll check out the transport. Silently Batman glides through the shadows of the hangar and reaches the rear of the transport. From the shadows he peers into the cargo bay. Batman then makes out the familiar figure of Robin standing in the forward area of the shadowy cargo bay. Robin is standing with his back turned towards Batman griping a red cape in his gloved fist. A figure next to Robin lies face down sprawled on the floor of the aircraft. The man is dressed in white khaki pants, brown leather jacket—a long whip and a brown safari hat lies next to him within reach.

Satisfied Robin has the matter in hand, Batman come out into the open and jumps up into the aircraft cargo bay. The soft rustle of Batman’s cape is followed by the sound of his heavy polished boots hitting the metal decking of the aircraft’s bay. Dick does not turn around. Batman stands upright and calls, “Robin?” Robin does not turn around, but motions Batman forward to him with his green gloved arm. As Batman approaches, Robin turns. His short black cape flutters behind him as he moves, and he extends both hands in front of his head spreading the red cape to show Batman.

The cape is crimson red with a yellow “S” symbol. “Superman’s cape!” gasps Batman excitedly as he hurries closer. The red cape Robin holds up for Batman’s inspection obscures his face. “Where did you find this? Is this man involved in Superman’s disappearance?” asks Batman, concerned. Batman grabs the cape from Robin’s hands and inspects it thoroughly, ignoring his partner for the moment.

Robin is silent. “Robin, I asked…” Batman stops in mid-sentence as he looks up and realizes the blond boy standing before him dressed as Robin is NOT Robin! The boy is the same height and build, but clearly not Dick Grayson. With a look of hesitant fear, the figure dressed in Robin’s costume sprays Batman squarely in his darkened face with an aerosol mixture of mace and a powerful sleeping gas. A cloud of yellow mist discharges loudly from the small aerosol can, and envelopes Batman’s cowl. The boy drops the aerosol can and then scurries away, his black cape billowing behind him. The Dark Knight reels, and releases the crimson cape. The cape rustles softly and falls to the floor as Batman painfully screams, raising his black gloved hands to his eyes. His large biceps flex impressively within the rubber bodysuit as Batman frantically rubs his gloved fists into his burning eyes. The scallops on the edges of his black cape and gloves dance wildly as Batman spins—coughing, gagging, and convulsing from the sting of the mace and the inhalation of the lethal sleeping gas. He begins to whirl blindly, twisting and turning in desperate, small circles. He frantically rubs his eyes, and his boots pound loudly on the metal floor. In response, the scalloped edges of his black cape and black gloves whip around wildly as he twists and turns madly, in a definite, unexpected agony.

The hunter rises off the metal floor and takes up his whip and puts on his hat. He slowly approaches Batman knowing he is not much of a threat anymore. The young man masquerading as Robin remains at a safe distance, watching in fascination as Batman reels in pain from the mace and begins to move clumsily as the sleeping gas takes effect. Batman’s heavy boots continue to pound on the metal floor reverberating through the empty cargo bay until he falls hard to his knees. Batman grits his white teeth and doubles over onto his knees, his clenched fists at the sides of his black cowl, trying urgently to shake off the sudden heavy onset of sleepiness.

The hunter picks-up a heavy black steel chain, attached to a thick steel collar, and heavy-duty wrist and ankle manacles, lying off to the side of the bay. With the whip in one hand and the chains in the other, the hunter drags the chain nosily across the metal floor. He shakes the chains intentionally to alert Batman of his approach. He brandishes the chains menacingly as he continues to slowly approach Batman. Batman coughs and gags as he looks up from his knees, trying to see through his damaged, red blood-shot swollen eyes. His face contorts in pain as he tries to rouse himself to his feet, to challenge the man intent on putting him in collar and chains. Batman knowingly feels as if he is about to pass out. He tries to shake the heavy, descendant drowsiness away. He unclenches his fists and moves his hands clumsily towards a compartment of his utility belt. But the drugged gas has slowed the Bat’s reflexes considerably. Panicked, the hero knows it is too late.

The hunter drops the chains and in an instant the whip lashes through the air and wraps tightly around Batman’s neck. The hunter pulls hard. Batman’s knees shift, and then extend forward as the hunter drags Batman down hard onto his chest. He drags the drugged man, struggling futilely across the metal floor towards him… like an unruly dog on a leash. The hunter keeps the whip tight around Batman’s neck cutting off his air. Batman instinctively uses both hands to try to loosen the whip wrapped tightly around his throat and neck so he can breathe. The hunter keeps the whip taunt so that Batman must struggle to free his neck of the whip, thus unable to use his hands to reach his utility belt and the universal antidote. The hunter yanks with both hands on the whip and pulls the masked crime fighter on his stomach, kicking and squirming wildly across the cargo bay. Batman’s heavy boots scuff, scrape and bang loudly on the metal decking as he continues to wield his legs, desperate to free himself from the bullwhip garroting his neck. Suddenly Batman slows, stops kicking and struggling, as the sleeping gas takes effect. He relaxes, failing, and lies face down motionless on the metal floor of the aircraft… both hands uselessly frozen, still gripped around the braided leather of the hunter’s lash.

To be continued…