After being in Washington, D.C. for two weeks*,
Tim Drake was ready to go home to Gotham City. He had tried, deperately
tried, to prove otherwise than what Batman thought: that he was
a kid. Tim had proved himself wrong. He wasn't yet an adult; and
he did indeed need the guidance of the Dark Knight.
[ * See Batman #7
through 10
-- Steve ]
Tim inhaled the mixed scents of the busy international
airport. He smelled hot dogs roa-sting, popcorn popping, and doughnuts.
He smelled hamburgers and french fries. He looked out of one of
the large windows in one of the terminals to see a Boeing-747
passenger plane docking. The plane that would take him back to
Gotham City.
It was time to go home.
Faux-DC Presents:
"The Final
Confrontation" Part 2
By Steve
M. Swartz
Tim walked toward the many rows of seats cluttering
the terminal. He set his duffel bag on one of the seats and, watching
it to make sure no one stole it, he walked toward the line going
to the ticket counter.
Y'know, it wasn't so bad. Except for the time
that I almost got beaten up by two jewelry store thieves, and
mistook innocent people for the culprits.* Tim Drake stepped into
the line. And then there was the time that I was spying on what
I thought was a planning session for a gang of mobsters, but what
turned out to be nothing but a late-night business meeting. The
line moved slowly. Tim looked to the front, where an elderly woman
was haggling over a plane fare. Tim rolled his eyes. This is ridiculous.
Here I am, a big hero-type, and I have to wait in lines for hours,
just to check in. I mean, I know that I'm nothing really special,
but I'm a hero, aren't I? Defender of the innocent and oppressed?
The line moved forward. No, that's more like Superman's shtick.
[ * See Batman #9 for
details -- Steve again ]
Before he knew it, Tim was at the counter. He
handed the ticket to the clerk, who was a woman who looked like
she was fifty years old or so. She wore glasses on the end of
her nose, and her hair was tied in a bun on her head. Jeez, she
reminds me of my math teacher, Mrs. Bromowitz. She looked through
her glasses at Tim. Oh, man. "First Class, hmm?" she
said, tearing a stub off. "Pretty expensive for a young man,
hmm?" She 'hmm's too much. "Here you go," she said,
handing the stub to Tim. Tim left the line and walked to the seat
on which he had placed his duffel bag.
A bustle was going on by the luggage surveyors
in the airport. A man in a trench coat and hat, his face shadowed,
placed his bag on the conveyor belt for the machine to x-ray it,
and then stepped through the metal-detecting portal.
The portal let out the long, shrill whine of a
siren as the man stepped through.
Onlookers were bemused, and began conversing with
one another. Tim Drake looked over at the commotion, and he heard
may conversations all at the same time. What's in the bag? What's
wrong with him? Why is the metal detector going off like that?
Is he a terrorist? And, to top it all off, he was stuck in a crowded
airport, so if he made a break for the bathroom, and tried changing
into his Robin suit, someone would most likely catch him in the
act. And if Tim Drake disappeared, then Robin appeared, then dis-appeared,
then Tim Drake appeared again, it might invoke suspicion from
his fellow travellers. What am I supposed to do? Maybe he is a
terrorist. Nah, the cops can handle it. Tim sat back in the seat,
crossed his arms, and stared at the ceiling, trying desperately
to ignore the commotion.
An airport official strode up to the portal, hand-held
metal detector in hand. He waved it over the trench coat-man's
form, and it whined, its whine even shriller than the whine made
by the portal. "Sir," the official said, "can you
please empty your pockets?"
"Gladly," the man said, a sinister note
in his voice.
He stuck his hands inside the coat. Then, without
warning, his hands snapped back out, both clutching forty-four
caliber pistols!
"Back off," he grunted to the airport
official. The official dropped the metal detector he carried,
and backed up with his hands up in a surrendering gesture. The
gunman then motioned the people forming the line behind him to
stand where the airport official was. They all did as told, women
shrieking, children clutching their parent's clothes and crying,
scared of the threat.
Tim Drake's ears pricked up at the lone gunman's
orders, and leapt up and ran to the bath-room. He entered, and
closed and locked the door. No one was in the bathroom save himself.
However, that didn't mean that no one could unlock the door and
enter. So, he entered a stall and hastily undressed and slipped
his Robin costume on. I hate to leave my clothes here, but what
else can I do? Robin unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and
surveyed the scene. No one was looking at him; this was an opportune
time to exit the bathroom without anyone seeing him. He slipped
out and ran, lightly stepping so as not to make too much of a
clatter, to where the gunman was holding his hostages.
Robin then crept up behind the man, motioning
for the crowd to not betray his arrival on the scene. The adults
knew, but one of the younger children pointed squarely at Robin
and asked his mother, "Mommy, who's that kid in the costume
behind that man?"
Oh, man. Robin had barely an instant to strike
before the gunman turned around. The gunman pointed one of his
pistols at Robin.
"I don't know who the hell you are,"
he said, "but you ain't stoppin' me from finishin' my ultimate
plan."
Ultimate plan? Oh great, another whacko with a
so-called "Master Plan." What next? He's gonna say how
he's gonna rule the world?
"You," he said, gesturing to Robin with
the gun that was pointed at the boy, "keep quiet. Go over
there with the crowd. And no funny business, got it?"
Robin walked over to where the crowd stood, giving
a dirty look to the boy who had betrayed his appearance. The boy,
in turn, sticking his tongue out, gave Robin a ras-pberry. Oh,
yeah. Just another reason I should be in the Hero Hall of Fame.
This one's a real dandy.
Robin let his right hand slowly drop to his waist.
Removing a small, sharp object from a hidden pouch, he flicked
his wrist and threw it at the gunman, who yelped in pain. The
object was a small, sharp blade, meant to distract someone, and
it had certainly served its purpose very well. Robin leapt in
the air with a flying kick, which connected with the lone gunman's
jaw. The gunman fell to the ground, dropping his two weapons.
He tried in vain to reach the gun closest to him,
but Robin, grinning, kicked it out of his reach. Robin then clenched
his teeth and grabbed the gunman's coat. "Just what do you
think you were doing?" Robin asked, slightly shaking the
thug.
In response, the thug's fingers, unseen by Robin's
untrained eye, grabbed a small object, which he then launched
at Robin. Robin ducked as the object, a smoke bomb, went off.
Crouching, Robin fell to the floor, as the gunman slipped away,
leaving a stunned crowd and an even moreso stunned Robin. Two
policemen ran up to the scene and began trying to wave the smoke
away.
"What's the problem here?" one asked
the crowd.
Robin stood up. "You're a little late,"
he said. "In fact, the gunman just got away, and if you'd
have been here a few minutes sooner, you probably could've stopped
him."
"Hey, hey," the cop who had previously
spoken said. "We have to eat sometime! Cops get hungry too,
y'know."
"What?" Robin cried in disbelief. "You
stopped for lunch when there was a turmoil go-ing on down here?
What is with you people?"
"Careful, boy," one said sternly to
Robin. "You just might be gettin' yourself into a heap of
trouble."
"No," Robin said. "You'll be the
ones in trouble, after the police commissioner's found out that
you stopped for lunch when people's lives were at stake just a
hundred yards a-way." And with that, Robin stood up and walked
away, and into the bathroom that held his clothes.
A minute later, he was in the terminal once again
as Tim Drake, and he found out that he had missed his plane. Apparently,
it had left not more than two minutes ago, when he was busy playing
hero. Great. Missed my plane. What next?
An airport employee ran up to him. "Is your
name Tim Drake?" the man asked. him.
"Yes, that's me," Tim asked suspiciously.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Sir," the employee said, "mister
Bruce Wayne says to meet your transportation at Field's Strip,
on fifty-first street and Washington Avenue. He said he's sending
a private plane."
"Thanks!" Tim said. Finally, something
goes right! I just hope that I don't botch up my being Robin with
Bruce this time.
Hailing a cab at the airport entrance, he was
quickly transported to Field's Strip, and found a strange-looking
plane waiting for him. Airstrip personnel rushed to accom-modate
Tim upon his arrival. They rushed a stairwell to the strip and
placed it squarely under the entrance to the airplane. Tim began
entering the plane, walking up the atairs to the entrance.
The airstrip personnel, their job being done,
shut the door, pulled the stairwell away, and soon after Robin
had his first look at the driver.
"Bruce!" Tim cried.
Bruce Wayne tipped his pilot's cap. "Where
to, sir?" he asked Tim, grinning.
"Home," Tim said seriously.
"Then 'home' it shall be," Bruce said,
as he started the plane and they lifted off into the clear blue
sky, which was this day dotted with a few wispy clouds. It's beautiful
up here. I just wish I had someone to share it with.
"Tim, I'd like to apologize for -- "
"No," Tim said, "it was my fault.
This won't happen, ever again. You can count on it."
Bruce grinned in response. "Apology accepted,"
he said. He flicked a switch marked auto-pilot and began to undress,
revealing a grey and black suit underneath his cibvilian clothes.
He removed the cap and put his cowl over his head and sat back
in the deat.
"Where'd you get this plane?" Tim asked.
Batman sombered. "Oh, I borrowed it from
the Joker."
"Huh?"
Batman filled Tim in on the events that happened
while Tim was away. * Tim told Bat-man about the strange message
in the sky. "Coincidence?" Tim said.
"I don't think so," Batman said. "Although,
I did make plans a few weeks back to attend a summit with the
JLA and the President...but it was cancelled a while ago. Maybe
Joker didn't know..." He trailed off.
[ * See Batman #10 --
Steve ]
He changed the subject.
"So," Batman said, "tell me all
about D.C."
"Well," Tim began, "it was--"
The radio blared a message. "Attention, all
units! Attention, all units! The flight to Go-tham City from Washington
International is being hijacked! Attention, all units--!"
Batman looked at Tim. "Feel like some action?"
he asked.
Tim grinned. "Sure," he said. Then,
to himself, he said, "Sure," halfheartedly. Just something
else for me to screw up. He reached for his duffel bag...
Suddenly the plane's nose dipped slightly and
both Batman and Tim were thrown for-ward. Suddenly one engine
cut out, and then the other. The airplane began to descend rapidly.
"Bruce -- !"
Batman tinkered with the controls a bit. Suddenly
the plane lurched forward and threw him against the windshield.
He sank to the floor, unconsious.
"Bruce! I don't know how to fly this thing!
Bruce?" Tim slapped Batman lightly in the face a few times.
Receiving no response he began removing the seat cushions and
surrounding Batman with them. Now that he's secure, Tim thought,
I should --
The plane hit the ground and Tim spilled out onto
the floor, blood gushing from what seemed like a million wounds.
He wasn't moving.
And he wasn't breathing.
Concluded in Batman #12!
Bat-Signals
Well, the final installment of "The Final
Confrontation" is just around the corner. I've gotten one
letter, and it's printed here. My fingers are crossed...so hopefully
I'll get some more letters soon.
Bat-Signals,
Excuse ME????
I'm sorry, for a second I thought you were
writing about a character I knew, but from what I can see you
have no clue who Tim "Robin" Drake is.
Reading this ID crisis story of yours, I
have to wonder where you get the idea that Batman thinks of
Robin as a child...he's been letting Robin run loose for months
on his own. I mean, Robin took down the Joker by himself, not
to mention the fact that he's brilliant in his own right. A
fourteen-year-old kid figured out the biggest mystery in the
DC Uni-verse by himself, and now you have him regulated to this
cheep imitation of a "Boy Wonder".
Please fix this or find a way to stop using
the character altogether. It insults the idea. Then again, I
might decide to write Robin for Faux-DC myself.
I'm sorry you don't particularly like my view
of Robin. As for Batman thinking of Robin as a child and such,
check out Robin #49 and some issues of Batman from 1995-1998 (I
think). What I actually intended was having Batman believe that
the responsibility of being Robin was too great for Tim (he lost
Jason Todd, remem-ber?)
I realize that Robin took on the Joker by himself
(in the acclaimed Robin II mini-series). I know he's capable of
much more than I've shown. But that's what his own series is for
(plug, plug!).
Biggest mystery in the DC Universe? Huh?
Look, if you want to write Robin, more power to
you. Again, I'm sorry that you find my interpretation of Robin
untrue. Hopefully you'll check out the Robin series and change
your mind.
Thanks for writing!
Yeah, yeah, I know that this is an all-Robin issue
(pretty much), and the title is indeed Batman...but just think
of this as a prologue to the all-new Robin series, appearing on
newsstands in two months! So, if you want more Robin action, check
him out in his own series...coming soon!
How do you like the new look of our lettercol?
The logo's enlarged and the typeset is different...looks great
to me. Anyway, enough from me...let's hear what you have to say!
As always, the address to send them to is solar_winds@yahoo.com.
I'll leave the light on for you.
See you in three weeks!
-- Steve Swartz
2.1.1999
NEXT ISSUE:
Batman #12 will end the "The Final Confrontation"
story arc, so be sure to pick that up in three weeks. Why is Robin
so hesitant to go into action? Who is the hijacker that is holding
the people on the Gotham-bound plane hostage?
Batman and Robin return to Gotham to find the
city in disarray, and who's responsible? The Joker, and his new
accomplice...who is it? What happened to Poison Ivy? And just
who are those guys that hit Batman in Batman #7? Read Batman #12
to find out!
