Description: Dick, Jason and Tim are the three bad boys of Gotham City. Under the codenames of Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin, they’ve come to clean out Bruce Wayne’s closet. An alternate universe where Batman and big time criminals don’t even exist. Based on Daphne's signature on the Robin and Starfire Shrine.

Dedicated to all three incarnations of the Boy Wonder. Keep Bob Bob Bobbin' along, k?

I don’t own DC Comics so let me be in peace.

I know platinum is heavy and nearly impossible to move in a heist that fast. Let me be, people. My stories tend to defy the laws of physics. And the uvula is that thing hanging in the back of your mouth so don’t get the wrong idea about Tim, ok?

All respect beforehand to Infamous One because the cops seem to get bashed my stories a lot. My apologies, sir. I obey the law and respect it. But the characters in this story don’t seem to so please don’t take this as an offense.

One last thing: Batman: The Animated Series pwns.

A-A-A-A

One by one, the black limousines pulled up in front of the mansion like a long shining caravan. Women in shimmering ball gowns extended their dainty hands to step out of the cars. Men offered to open the doors with looks of curiosity in their eyes. They gazed at the highly attractive young ladies that would be attending the charity event that night. Everyone had been anticipating that night’s smashing gala hit for weeks ahead. Now the fabulously wealthy of Gotham’s finest were sinking into a silken luxurious sensation for the evening’s special event.

High heels clicked sharply on the marbled floors as women passed from one elegantly furnished room to another. Immaculate tuxedoes were seen darting under leafy green trees. Dangling earrings shimmering with the brilliance of diamonds, flawless emeralds, and gleaming rubies while women’s throats were adorned with the finest pearls that anyone could ever dream for.

The bubbling flow of champagne streamed from one crystal glass to another as the party began to rise into a crescendo of lavishness. Gentlemen and ladies nibbling fine delectable delicacies while chatting with one another. The sweet sound of a classic symphony drifted from a ten-piece band at the foot of the staircase. Folks began to rub elbows with famous celebrities, politicians, and the host of the evening, Mr. Bruce Wayne.

The security guard checked his watch for the timing. Already it was eight o’clock and most of the guests had arrived. He allowed himself a moment to take a sip out of his piping hot cup of coffee. Then he pulled a rolled up magazine out of his pocket and proceeded to indulge in a few minutes of relaxation.

In less than seven minutes, the headlights of a new car had drawn closer and closer towards the booth. The guard quickly straightened up on his chair and stashed the magazine away. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out. The slick red hue of a Jaguar lay before him, still gleaming with the perfection of a newly crafted automobile. The guard’s attention perked up at once.

“Name?” he asked, peering into the driver’s window.

There was a vague outline to the man in the driver’s seat, but that was about all the guard could see. Two other figures were present: one next to the driver and a smaller one in the back.

“Grayson and guests,” said the driver in a smooth confident tone.

The guard nodded in approval. He pressed a button and the iron gates parted with a slight shudder. The Jaguar’s wheels spurred before pulling into the grounds of Wayne Manor.

The young man in the front passenger’s seat was snickering when the red Jaguar drew itself up to those tall pillars gleaming with bright white lights. From the back seat, the smaller one looked up at the mansion with tremendous awe.

“Wayne doesn’t stop the green fountain, huh?” he said in a high voice still touched with the youthfulness of a boy.

“I wonder how much he spends on his women,” the man in the driver’s seat mused aloud. He rubbed his cleft chin in thought.

“Not enough to curb my appetite,” said the other one, his voice laced with wicked glee.

“Lay off the girls, Jay. You too, Tim. We’re not pulling this job off with distractions,” he said in a deadpan voice.

The middle one groaned and knocked his head against the back of his seat. “Jeez, Dick. Have a littler mercy on a guy.”

“Yeah, just a little fun,” the smallest one chimed in. “It’s going to be a sweet night anyhow, right Jay?” The one in the front rolled his blue eyes in sarcasm. The little grasshopper tried to hard to play it cool sometimes.

“No sweets. No pastry, no cream puffs. We’re on a diet,” their leader ordered them.

“But Dick. .” the kid began to protest.

“Shut up.”

The other one shrugged and held up his hands. “Aright, aright, keep your tights on. Don’t blow a fuse just yet.” He opened the door of the Jaguar and stepped out. “That’s my job, remember?”

Dick Grayson, alias Nightwing, starred at his two partners. He carefully clipped a small pin of a bronze eagle to the lapels of each of their tuxedos. “These birds are bugged. We’ll hear it through all five levels of the house. Robin, you know what to do,” he nodded to the smallest one.

Robin, alias Timothy Drake, eagerly pulled out a tiny hand held computer. “Laser systems are locked on all lower three levels. Wayne’s keeping the eggs on display in the second room lounge. His safe should be on the top floor in the library, once I examine the parameters.”

Red Hood, alias Jason Todd, lifted up the side of his jacket revealing a pair of short metal sticks stuck into his belt. “I’ll distract half a dozen guards,” he said. “And hit the punch bowl before Nightwing covers my back.”

“Good. Now if the security system can stay shut down at exactly 10:27 PM like we planned, we’ll start transporting the goods off the fourth level right balcony,” Nightwing ordered his partners.

They both gave him nods of satisfaction, eager to comply Nightwing’s commands. Slowly, a smirk drew itself across his young handsome face, followed by the grins of his teammates. Nightwing stretched out his hand to the center. Red Hood placed his own hand on top of Nightwing’s own. Robin eagerly slapped his on top.

“All right, lets do it.”

“Yeah! Party time!” Robin cheered. His delight was short lived when Red Hood hooked his index finger into the back of Robin’s collar and tugged sharply. Robin gagged and was halted in his tracks. “Jay,” he whined. Red Hood simply lowered his head and talked into the kid’s ear.

“Remember, grasshopper. Never trust a blonde. Never trust a ‘two face’. And never trust . .”

“ . . a two face blonde, yeah, I know,” Robin sighed, shrugging off the other one’s grip.

“A ‘two face’?” Nightwing asked Red Hood. The two of them started walking up the steps together while Robin tagged along at their heels.

Red Hood shrugged. “A dame who pulls her hair over one eye. They’re trying to play it smooth but it means they’ve got a lot of baggage under the bed. That’s what I call a ‘two face’.”

“What about red heads?” Nightwing asked him. Red Hood chuckled to himself.

“You make your weakness too easy, Dick.”

“You make yours too obvious,” Nightwing retorted back.

A-A-A

The three of them, Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin, made up the Triad of Trouble in Gotham City. Their codenames remained a mystery to the police every time they thwarted another trap and escaped with another treasure. Not even Commissioner Gordon knew about the true identity of the three young men, let alone their origins or past.

The only similarities all three had in physical appearance were black hair and blue tinted eyes. But as a team, one could consider them all brothers for life. Their different backgrounds and personalities complimented one another to create the best con men team on the East Coast. Together they had managed to rob Gotham’s elite of millions and live off the cream of the crop. They could have retired long ago and settled in California like Robin suggested, but where was the fun and the thrill in that sort of life?

Nightwing was the brains of team, the one that Hood and Robin looked up to as a parental figure. A real con man, he could smooth talk his way through every reporter and cop in town. The former aerialist Dick Grayson lost his parents in a trapeze accident when big honcho Tony “Big Boss” Zucco sabotaged the wires. From then on, Nightwing was bent on revenge. Using his youthful sweet looks and “sob story”, he got the attention of Gotham’s wealthiest benefactors to make his way up to his teenaged years and constant training in the gyms. Nightwing managed to get his own act together and got his well-funded supply of cash after nailing Zucco and taking up the old man’s wallet.

Red Hood, sometimes the “black sheep” of the team, was the most aggressive and creative of the trio. He could turn any object into a weapon. Even a paper clip was a lethal device in the hands of the Red Hood. Jason Todd’s rough edges were born in the scum of Gotham’s underworld when his father tried to weasel his way out of Harvey Dent’s grasp. Jason’s triumph came when he thwarted the DA gone mad and confiscated two million dollars in silver. He bought his way out of a poverty-stricken life and into the sophisticated one of Dick Grayson, an admirable colleague. Hood was still known in every back alley dojo as the “red monster” on the East End who could lick them all. Those idiots would shiver in their pants when Red Hood walked through the door.

Tim Drake was wide eyed and awed, the pint sized sidekick of the team. He has a pretty good life until his father Jack Drake hit hard times. He would have been caught illegally downloading materials to sell if Dick Grayson hadn’t intervened and managed to give the kid a clean bill. Jason came to his rescue by beating up a few punks that had caught Tim in their territory. The two of them decided to take Tim under their wings and train him for the team. Dubbed “Tiny Tim” of the gang, he was the cybernetic one who used his analytical abilities to break into systems that would put any hacker to shame.

A-A-A-A

All dressed in formal tuxedoes, the young men stepped into the ballroom and began to circulate. Any female eye could catch their attractive figures, noticing Nightwing’s broad shoulders, Red Hood’s flashing smile, and Robin’s adorable sky blue eyes.

Nightwing had refused to cut his hair for several years. Now it fell like a soft silky cape from his head and just came down to the top of his shoulders. Jason preferred a more “timeless” look himself, keeping his thick ebony locks shorter and slightly parted on the side. It always achieved triumph by bringing out the beautiful midnight-blue tints that drove the girls wild. Tim, the new-age wannabee, settled for the spiked “punk” contemporary look that caught the eye of certain teenaged females.

The three of them smoothly made their way through the front doors and into the well lit ballroom. Robin looked up and whistled at the sight of the decorated chanticleer that rained tiny rainbows of light down onto the guests.

Summer Gleeson was fiddling with her microphone when the cameraman tapped her on the shoulder. “Summer, who are those guys?” he asked her. The young woman nearly dropped her mike when her eyes locked with the deep melting blue ones of Nightwing. He gave her a deep velvety smile and slowly walked past her, not taking his gaze off of her. Summer felt her heart take a double leap from the look.

“I don’t know, but that one is certainly gorgeous,” she breathed out.

Nightwing and Red Hood had both approached the host of the party who was surrounded with several attractive women. Bruce Wayne looked up from his discussion when he saw the two young men looking at him with great interest.

“Forgive my interruption, Mr. Wayne,” Nightwing said with a polished voice. “But my colleague and I couldn’t resist commenting on your excellent taste in décor for tonight’s event.” The women around Bruce began to whisper madly upon the arrival of the two strangers.

“I appreciate the flattery,” Bruce nodded to Nightwing. “And you are?”

“My name is Grayson, Mr. Wayne. Richard Grayson.” He accepted the hand that was offered to him and shook it firmly. “And this is one of my partners . .”

“Jason Todd, at your service,” the second one said with a flash of his white teeth and a sparkle in his dark blue eyes. He threw a flirting glance at one of the women who blushed under his gaze.

“Mr. Grayson, Mr. Todd, it’s a pleasure to see you both this evening,” Bruce nodded to them. “You’ll excuse my memory, but I don’t recall seeing either of you here before.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Wayne, we’re on the guest list,” Red Hood said in quick defense. (Of course, that was true thanks to Robin’s hacking skills.)

Bruce laughed at the reply. “Of course, of course, I didn’t mean to interrogate you or your friend in the least bit. What I meant was that I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you gentlemen before.”

“We’ve had some rough weeks with business,” Nightwing explained. “I prefer the personal investments while Jason selects better maneuvers for our company.”

“I see,” Bruce nodded with interest. “Wasn’t there a third involved?”

Nightwing gestured to Robin who was talking to a pretty teenaged girl in a red dress. He was leaning in the doorway and fidgeting a little with awkwardness, but his face was tinted pink from pleasure.

“Tim’s something of our ‘computer whiz’,” Nightwing explained. “Bright kid for his age. I don’t know what we’d do without him. But he does the bills and we teach him the ropes.”

“An apprentice?” Bruce asked.

“More like a sidekick or a partner,” Red Hood corrected him.

“Mr. Todd,” drawled a dark haired lady who had linked her arm around his. “Do tell me where you work out. I don’t see you around the Platinum Beach Club with my other friends.” She walked off with him, rattling to his heart’s content. Nightwing shook his head to himself and turned back to Bruce.

“You’ll have to excuse Jason’s character. He’s like inertia. Once he starts, he won’t ever stop.”

“I’ll warn my trainer,” Bruce said. Nightwing had a good laugh at that.

“If he does make trouble, I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your loss,” he said, taking out a checkbook. “Now that we’re here, I’d like to make a donation to the Wayne Charity Foundation.”

“That’s very generous of you and your company,” Bruce commented. “Speaking of, what is it that you do exactly?”

“We run a line of self defense classes in Gotham and Bludhaven,” explained Nightwing. “Usually tailored to people’s wants and needs. Women prefer to know how to use a purse as a weapon, for example, by hitting someone over the head.” This comment gave Bruce another hearty laugh and he slapped Nightwing across the back in a friendly maneuver.

“I’m already liking this kid,” he smiled to his comrades.

“Seriously, we’ve been expanding out to Bludhaven and Metropolis is starting to pick up,” Nightwing said as he wrote out a check for 7000. He tore off the check in a flourish and handed it to Bruce. The benevolent gesture was by no means a difficult task for him. They’d be reimbursed very well before the evening was out.

“So personal defense is important to you?” asked a young lady. Nightwing noticed he had caught the attention of a particularly charming red headed woman. Her green eyes glinted keenly at him from behind a pair of delicate gold-rimmed spectacles.

“Well, yes, ma’am, the basic lines of self protection are important,” he said gravely. “Gotham’s citizens need to be on guard against dangerous threats like con men and criminals.”

“You don’t think the police can handle it?” she demanded quite seriously. He could see the charming arrangement of freckles that spread out on the bridge of her scrunched up nose when she frowned. It gave her a very delightful attractive look even in this slight fit of anger.

“I believe the police are not the only forces on night patrol,” Nightwing said vaguely. He offered her a glass of wine from a tray. “Care for a drink?”

“No thank you,” she said crisply, brushing his shoulder lightly to allow a passageway out of the people. Nightwing found himself still starring at the soft red hair that bounced across her slender shoulders when she walked.

“Pardon Barbara, she’s the commissioner’s daughter,” Bruce said. “That young lady has quite a mind of her own.”

“Sounds like my kind of a girl,” Nightwing commented. “Now tell me about your interest in the Faberge Eggs, Mr. Wayne,” he went on, carefully replacing the pen into his pocket.

Unaware to Bruce Wayne, the transmitter was still in contact inside the glossy gold tip of the pen cap. Tiny gears began to spin and whirr while the pen picked up on Bruce’s voice. It was at that very precise moment when Robin could overhear the conversation from the other room.

“Is something wrong, Tim?” asked the pretty blonde haired girl. He closed one eye with careful scrutiny. She didn’t part her hair over her eyes, but she was blonde. Damn, Todd. Leave it to you to spoil on the fun. And Robin liked this girl. She was really smart and funny. What was her name? Tiffany or Stephanie something. Yeah, Stephanie.

“I, I’ve got to find the restrooms,” he said quickly. “S’cuz me.”

Robin sprinted down the corridor and came to a halt near the kitchen. A tall slim man in butler’s attire had just come out with a tray of appetizers.

“Sir, where’s the . .” he started to breath out.

“Down to your left,” the man informed him. Robin raced as fast he could until he was safe inside the marble covered room. He got into a stall and shut the door behind him.

Robin quickly adjusted the sound on his small pin and put it to his ear. There was a slight buzzing sound so he twisted the bug to the right.

“ . . though it’s a generous maneuver on your behalf, Mr. Wayne,” Nightwing’s voice crackled through the static.

“Please, call me Bruce.” The billionaire was as cool as ever. “And just as dumb,” Robin thought to himself.

“Bruce it is. And I’m Richard. As I was saying, allowing the legendary Faberge Eggs to be on display in a private home is not a small feat.”

“Well, there are preparations that we have to know in advance. Security was schedules two months ahead. Wayne Enterprise does boast of its newest laser protection to preserve and protect priceless artifacts.”

“What if somebody was to come through the roof? These small jeweled eggs would be endangered.” Nightwing asked as a matter of fact.

“Not to worry, Richard.”

“You must have a lot of fun on Halloween, Mr. Wayne.” That had to be Red Hood.

Robin listened for a few more minutes while Bruce supplied Nightwing and Red Hood on his best security systems. Lucky for the Triad, most of the focus was going to be on the Faberge Eggs and not Bruce’s private stash. Robin turned off the bug and re-fitted it on his jacket.

Robin stuck a sonic-based pen between his teeth and then began to fiddle with his pockets. The young man finally found his hand-held computer and began to tap in the stats. The security cameras started to buzz madly from his interference. Strands of black hair fell into his eyes but he continued to work at the systems. Robin started to toy with the manor’s lights and sound alarms, re-programming them to detonate at the times that he had instructed. At last, the small object in his palm gave a tiny bleep of pleasure.

ALL SYSTEMS INFORCED read the message across the screen in flashing green letters.

Satisfied, Robin took the pen from his mouth. He smiled and put it behind his left ear for a moment while he made sure the computer was safe inside his deepest pocket. “Tim, you’re a genius,” he said softly to himself. The young man slipped the pen into a fold of fabric under his sleeve.

He came out of the stall and adjusted his tie in the mirror.

A-A-A-A

Nightwing looked over his shoulder. Robin had just come out of the bathroom. His eyes locked with Nightwing’s and he gave a confident wink. Nightwing smiled back at him.

“Tim?” the blonde haired girl called out. She came running over to him on the end of the staircase. “There you are, I was wondering where you were.”

“Just drank too much soda before the party,” he excused himself. The butler offered them something on a tray. “Dare I ask what this is?” Robin said.

“Stuffed grape leaves,” the butler said. “An excellent dish, if I say so myself.”

“Well, if you say so,” Robin shrugged. He offered one of the dark green rolled-up leaves to Stephanie and took one for himself. Robin bit into the grape leaf and nearly gagged. The leaf was dry on the outside and the rice inside was too slimy for his taste. He saw Stephanie looking at him and swallowed it down quickly.

“Um, its very exotic,” he said as he cleared his throat. “Thank you, mister, hm, um . .”

“Pennyworth. Alfred Pennyworth at your service,” the butler nodded.

Trying to ignore the burning heat in his lips, Robin cleared his throat. “Could we have something to drink, Mr. Pennyworth?”

The butler bobbed his head before taking off to his duties. The girl decided the liberty of continuing her conversation with the new attractive boy.

“I don’t see you around the neighborhood,” Stephanie said to him.

“I work with Grayson and Todd,” Robin explained. He gestured to Nightwing who had finished his conversation with Bruce Wayne and was now listening to Lucius Fox with great interest.

“Who’s that?” Stephanie asked, pointing to a man and woman under the staircase. Vicki Vale was flirting madly with Red Hood who seemed to be enjoying every minute of the attention. She was gushing over him in rapid conversation while his hand was slowly coming towards her waist.

“That’s Todd?” Stephanie wrinkled her nose in apprehension.

“Jay’s the ‘bad boy’ of the team,” Robin said with a smirk.

Stephanie looked at the boy next to her. He was really adorable with his sweet blue eyes and black hair. His slender figure was now draped across the balcony in a relaxing gesture while he looked down at the crowd.

“So what does that make you, the ‘good boy’?” she asked him.

“I do what I can. Sometimes bending the rules a bit beats breaking them entirely.”

“Oh really? And just what kind of trouble do you cause, Boy Scout?”

Robin raised one black eyebrow from her remark.

“I’m just wondering,” she said while she traced the detail of the railing with her index finger.

“I know what some girls are thinking, Ms. Brown,” Robin said offhandedly. “I know a spoiler when I see one.”
Stephanie looked at him, quite surprised. “Why, Timothy, you’re just like a detective.”

A-A-A-A

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please.” The blaring sound from a microphone quieted the chatty crow at once. Everyone made their way to the podium where Mr. Fox was about to give a speech thanking the host of the evening.

“Backdoor on the kitchen. Now,” buzzed the words into Tim’s bug. Everybody was so preoccupied in the center room attention that they didn’t see the teenager slip slowly to the back and sneak his way into the hallway. Nightwing was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and an index finger tapping his bicep impatiently.

“If Hood doesn’t show up in three seconds, we can kiss this deal goodb-“

The doors on the left burst open and Hood nearly tripped over his own feet coming in. He was breathing hard and his hair was slightly disheveled. He stood up and tried to catch his breath while Nightwing pursed up his lips in disapproval.

“What?” Red Hood said in defense. “I was just checking out the gardens with Vale.”

“Yeah right,” Robin smirked.

“Kid, you got nothing on me this time,” Red Hood shot at him.

“You’ve got lipstick on your collar,” Robin informed him. Red Hood noticed the small red stain in the shape of lips planted on his tuxedo. He threw a glare back at Robin.

“Why I oughta . .”

“Shut up,” Nightwing cut in. “You can kiss all the dames you want once we raid and run. For now, just change and listen in.”

One by one, they unbuttoned the shirts to their tuxedos revealing skintight black uniforms underneath. The new midnight clad men folded up their undercover formal attire and hid them under a sofa. Each had on a slick utility belt and combat boots for better running.

Nightwing signaled for them to come closer. “I’m going to plant the smoke bomb at their feet. When they’re distracted, Tim, its your job to throw the light show. Jay’s going to make the coppers dance a jig while I take on each floor.”

“What if they don’t buy it?” Robin questioned.

“We do Alice in Wonderland,” Nightwing smirked.

“Yes!” Robin said, pumping his fist up and down. He loved doing Wonderland ever since he started with the cameras in the malls two years ago.

“Now if you’ve got any problems, hit the deck on the third floor. There’s enough ivy on the walls to climb down to the backyard and Tim can shut down the gates control. If all goes well, Tim brings the car around and Hay and I will carry the dough down. Any questions?”

“Yeah. Who’s driving on the way out?” Red Hood demanded.

“Me. You’re too stoned, dimwit,” Nightwing said.

“Am not,” Red Hood said, though he hiccupped a little. A good stiff drink was just what he needed before kicking the cops around and Vale had happily offered to join him in one a while ago.

“Ok, lets move,” Nightwing said. He removed three eye masks from the lining of his jacket and handed two of them to his partners. Robin quickly plastered the emerald green one to his face. Red Hood ran a finger along the rim of his own crimson tinted masquerade to make sure it would stay in place. At last, Nightwing clipped on his own dark blue mask.

They all put their hands in the middle to form the alliance. Then they all broke off, running in three different directions.

Tim had gotten to the basement. He opened up the fuse box and attached a small timer to the display. He clicked in a message to the transmitter. “Shutting down all alarms in starting 20 . .19 . .18 . .”

Nightwing opened up a window and climbed onto the balcony. He jumped up so that his hands caught the base of the next floor’s balcony. His early years as a trapeze had never failed him and he swung from one wrought iron pole to another like a kid on the monkey bars.

“12 . .11 . .10 . .”

Red Hood drew himself into the shadows behind a suit of armor in the gallery. Two guards in the front didn’t see him waiting with his hands on his hips, poised for the attack.

“8 . .7 . . 6 . .”

“And without further ado, I wish to present this year’s Achievement Aware to Bruce Wayne for his generous philanthropic work and for hosting the Faberge Eggs this evening,” Mr. Fox announced.

“4 . .3 . . 2 . .”

Everyone applauded with great pleasure.

Tim pressed one of the buttons with his index finger.

SHOOOM!

The guests were all plunged into darkness. A few ladies screamed and dropped their glasses. There was a scrambling sound as people tried to fumble for flashlights or find the police.

Red Hood jumped out of his hiding spot and cornered the cops. They had hardly turned around when each one was given a taste of his metal on the head. With a THUD, the two blue-dressed officers were knocked unconscious. Red Hood twirled his weapons around with pleasure.

Nightwing bit the ring off the blasting device and hurled it into the main room. Thick clouds of smoke started to billow up, sending guests into fist of coughing and chocking. Bruce Wayne found himself dragged off the stage by a few people.

“Protect Mr. Wayne, it must be an assassination threat,” someone cried out.

“The eggs! They’ve come to steal them,” Viki Vale wailed.

“No, the guests!”

“Get everyone out of here!”

“Everyone, please calm down,” Commissioner Gordon’s voice came out loud and clear over the madness. The Armageddon impact refused to leave, though, and everyone was still coughing from the smoke that was tearing in their eyes.

“Where’s Mr. Wayne?” he asked, shining a flashlight through the smoke.

“I’m here, I’m fine,” the slightly dazed host murmured. He had taken refugee behind a massive Ming vase and was crouching on the ground to avoid the fumes.

Back in the gallery, the two victims were coming to. “Who was that?” one cop grumbled to another. His friend rubbed his throbbing head.

“Didn’t see. The guy wore a mask,” he muttered. They ran into the main room that was finally starting to fan out from the smoke.

“Some creep in a red mask was seen in the back,” he said to Commissioner Gordon. The man furrowed his thick white eyebrows at the comment.

“That’s impossible. My men saw a juvenile in a green mask just leaving the basement.”

“Look!” Bruce shouted. A third figure in black was hanging upside down out the window. Nightwing waved to them good and clear, knees locked tightly over the bar supporting his body.

The guards aimed their pistols at the window and took fire. The glass shattered into thousands of tiny diamond-like pieces from the intact but Nightwing was faster than the bullets. He had already flipped right side up and was climbing up the side of the house.

Bruce grabbed a cop by the wrist angrily. “I don’t want any gunfire in my house,” he retorted.

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne, but its for your protection,” Commissioner Gordon said. “We’ve got to find those men before they hurt anyone else.”

“What about the eggs?” Summer Gleeson questioned. “They’ve probably come for the main course, after all.”

The commissioner shined his flashlight on a massive display case in the room. To everyone’s bewilderment, the glittering oval shaped eggs encrusted with perfect jewels were all there. Even the glass case remained intact.

“What the . .” Commissioner Gordon rubbed his head in thought. “If they didn’t come for the eggs, then what are they doing here?”

A-A-A

Red Hood was having a ball. He jumped over one cop and drove his boot into the jaw of another. Not enough to break a tooth, but the poor guy would be living off applesauce for a few days.

“This is getting sad,” he sighed.

Three more had entered fully armed. “Don’t move,” ordered one of them.

Red Hood cocked his head to one side. “You’re going to shot me with guns?” he questioned, quite amused with the situation. Red Hood shook his finger in disapproval.

“Tsk tsk, what dangerous weapons you’re holding, coppers. You should know better.”

A spray of bullets landed at his feet. Red Hood somersaulted backwards against the wall. Jumping towards the curtain, he tugged on a heavy cord and came down. The massive drapery fell on top of the cops and they began to shout and move. Each moving head was a perfect target. It was like playing that old game at the arcade when you hit the gopher over the head with a mallet.

Red Hood proceeded to strike each of their heads with his weapon like a kid in a carnival.

A-A-A-A

Nightwing was checking into the next window. The cautious flicker of flashlights inside told him that the guards were still looking for him. Hopefully, Tim was going cover for him.

He removed a slim metal instrument from his utility belt and slowly started to draw a circle on the window. Removing the perfect shape of glass, Nightwing slid his hand in and fiddled with the inside lock. The door clicked twice before he heard that familiar mechanism spring inside. He used his boot to kick the doors open. Nightwing tucked his body into a tight ball and jumped in, rolling over until he came to stop on the floor.

The red glow of a no-longer hidden camera beamed into the back of his head. Nightwing looked up at the camera and smiled.

Down in the security room, Bruce and the police were examining the screens.

“Looks like one of those boys,” a cop suggested. “But I can’t tell much with his mask.”

“So its three masked men just attacked the building?” Bruce asked.

“It looks like it,” the man frowned.

“Are they armed?” Bruce was deeply concerned.

“I think only one of them is.”

Another policeman threw up his hands at the thought of it. “That’s insane. Who pulls a heist without even a gun on them?”

Bruce’s eyes glinted gently. “Apparently, someone that’s good enough.”

They all leaned over the monitor displays. “I’m going to see if we can pickup the rest of them on every floor,” a cop announced. But when he tried to adjust the camera, black and white fuzz began to blur the screen.

“What in the . .” he sputtered, franticly working on the controls. Every single screen started to snap with static. Bruce looked at his best devices that were now useless as, well, just plain useless.

“What are those clowns up to now?” a cop snarled. He banged on the screen madly. They looked at the security cameras. The face of an amused adolescent in a green mask blocked their vision while he made faces into the camera.

“The little brat!” he sputtered. Robin continued to stick out his tongue and making clown faces into the small screen, keeping the guards at bay. They wouldn’t have believe a 14-year-old boy was blocking their vision anymore than a white rabbit . .hence the term Wonderland. Robin proceeded to show off his tonsils to a very flabbergasted team of cops and one startled playboy.

A-A-A-A

With all the chaos and darkness below, Nightwing and Red Hood were successful in tiptoeing to the third floor. Nightwing shined his flashlight down the corridor while Red Hood checked over his shoulder for the cops.

Nightwing kicked down the door to the next lounge with his foot. “Spread out. See if its here,” he ordered them. Robin moved his flashlight up and down the room. Red Hood looked under chairs and the bookcase.

“This stinks. The safe’s not here.”

“Then its at the top, like Wayne said,” Nightwing decided.

They took to the balcony again with Nightwing going first and pulling Red Hood after him. At last, they came to the end of their journey in the room adjacent to Bruce Wayne’s bedroom. Nightwing just had to put his flashlight in for a split second before they saw that large heavy safe sitting in the corner.

“Hello Baby Doll,” Nightwing whispered hungrily. He knelt beside the safe and laid one gloved hand on it. “We missed you at the party.” Nightwing’s ears strained to hear if any more trouble was coming along. He tapped his bug to tune into Robin’s report.

“They got my uvula on tape,” Robin said into his transmitter. “I’m out the back now.”

“We’re near the bedroom. We’ll load up and you bring it up the back,” Nightwing told him. He turned his attention back to the safe.

“How long will it take you?” he asked Red Hood.

The criminal untucked his shirt revealing a belt of various razor sharp tools. He selected a valuable lock picker and studied it carefully.

“Long enough” Red Hood shrugged. He proceeded to work on the safe’s combination.

“Freeze!” yelled a cop. He aimed his pistol at Nightwing and Hood. Nightwing’s hand flew out and released a small metal weapon. It buzzed through the air and knocked the gun out of the guard’s hand. “Ow!” he cried.

Nightwing’s gloved fist whistled through the air and hit the cop hard in the chest. He bent over sharply from the blow. Another blow at the back of the head and he slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap. “Sweet dreams, copper,” Nightwing muttered.

“Almost there,” Red Hood said. His fingers nimbly passed over the dial. Nightwing watched his partner work, almost caressing the surface of the safe hungrily. At last, he heard a low clunking sound vibrate from inside the safe. Hood nodded to Nightwing. He placed a hand on the door of the safe and breathed in.

“Go!” Nightwing hissed. They jerked the safe open and peered inside. Red Hood watched his teammate shine the flashlight over the contents. “Beautiful,” Nightwing murmured softly. Several platinum bars, a pile of various pearl necklaces, and stacks of fresh green money lay before them.

“Robin, how much did you say this loot was?” Red Hood whispered into his transmitter. The Boy Wonder gave his calculation back to them. Nightwing looked at Red Hood in bewilderment. Five and a half million dollars lay before them. No, more, as Robin stood corrected.

“Bruce should be thanking us,” Nightwing said as he proceeded to stuff a duffle bag with the contents. “Now he wont have to worry about all those detestable tax laws.”

“Yeah, we’ll take a load of problems off his hands,” Red Hood said with pleasure. He hummed and studied a topaz stickpin for a moment, making a face at the Victorian style of the richly decorated ornament. “Ugh, I think we’ll be saving him a lot of this junk.”

“Um, guys, they’re on your right wing,” Robin warned him.

The familiar clicking sound of guns echoed in the doorway.

“Hood, take ‘em down,” Nightwing muttered under his breath.

“Put down your guns and move away from the safe,” the cop ordered him.

Red Hood cocked his head to one side. “Excuse me?”

“I said, drop the guns,” the cop ordered him.

“Pppfft!” Red Hood retorted. He held up his hands for all to see.

“Search him,” ordered one of the cops. Another shoved Red Hood’s hands behind his back and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Red Hood waited until they were close enough to grab a cop by the shoulders and throw him overhead, then send him crashing into the wall.

Another cop came from behind him in the attempt of a tackle. Red Hood saw it all coming. His feet kicked up and delivered a flawless martial arts maneuver to the cop’s stomach.

Just for fun, he aimed his last attack right at the annoying one. Hood’s booted foot kicked the man between his legs as hard as he could. “Owwwwiii,” the cop squeaked, sinking to his knees in pain.

Nightwing heard the high-pitched noise and sighed. He took the flashlight out of his mouth long enough to stop loading up. “Hood, I wish you’d clean up after your mess once in a while,” he chastised his teammate.

“Got it,” Hood said in a much more cheerful mood. He grabbed the cop by the lapels and dragged him towards the open door. The cop saw the window lead out to the space of ten stories between his skull and the hard pavement. He began to beg in a garbled tone, pleading with Red Hood not to let him fall.

“Copper, copper, copper,” Red Hood reassured him in a carefree tone. “No need to be scared. I’m not going to hurt you at all.”

“You’re not?” the cop asked feebly.

“No, I’m just going to ask you a simple question,” Red Hood said calmly. “Can you swim?”

“Huh?”

Red Hood released the cop. The man was falling further and further down, arms and legs flying out while he screamed for mercy. At last, he landed in the deep end of Bruce Wayne’s pool with a thundering splash.

Red Hood looked down and rested his elbows on the window seat. The sopping wet guard was trying to swim his way towards the shallow end of the pool.

“Didn’t think so,” he sighed aloud.

“Life can be a disappointment, Jay,” Nightwing said to him. “Get used to it.” He handed Red Hood a fully loaded duffle bag.

“Yeah, I just wish they’d learn how not to be such dimwits,” Red Hood confessed. He motioned to the branches of an oak tree, allowing Nightwing to go first. “After you. Age before beauty.”

“Hardy, har har,” Nightwing jumped out and grabbed onto the branches. Years of training expertise patrolled his body up until he was safe on the tree. “If I break my neck, its all your fault.”

“If you break your neck, can I have your stereo?” Robin asked hopefully into the transmitter.

Red Hood swung a bag of stolen loot over his shoulder. He grabbed Nightwing’s hand and got himself pulled into the tree. “Robin, where are you?”

“I’m bringing the car around the back,” Robin informed them.

The growl of the Jaguar reached their ears. They saw the car jerk its way across the lawn clumsily. It would have crashed into the trunk of the tree if it hadn’t come to a grinding halt. The headlights turned off. Robin stuck his head out of the driver’s seat and wave to them. They waved back and shimmied down the trunk of the giant oak tree.

“That’s the last time I teach you to drive stick shift,” Nightwing chastised him once they reached the ground. He tossed a bag of loot to Robin.

“So? At least I can drive,” Robin said.

“You don’t even have a license yet,” Red Hood hooted at him. “Gotham City doesn’t let 14 year old kids ride anything faster than a bicycle.”

“Yeah? Well at least I slowed them down,” Robin argued.

“Lets just blow this joint,” came the order. Robin and Red Hood clambered into the car. Nightwing turned on the ignition and slammed his foot against the pedal. The Jaguar took off like a roaring predator.

“What the heck’s a uvula?” Red Hood asked.

A-A-A

“Yes, I know: nearly nine million dollars in cash, precious metals, and jewels stolen from Bruce Wayne. No, I do not have it on video, the blasted fools tampered with the security cameras!” Commissioner Gordon hollered into the walkie-talkie. “It had to be the Triad, who else? That Nightwing moves like a phantom and pulls off heists smooth as silk. Don’t even get me started on what Robin and Red Hood did to the systems . .”

Bruce Wayne glanced around the library. The broken safe lay discarded on one side of the room. Wind blew softly around him, playfully tugging at the curtains.

“I’m awfully sorry that this happened, Mr. Wayne,” the commissioner apologized. “Especially to a philanthropist like you.”

“That’s the least of my worries,” Bruce said. He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least these three weren’t out to kill me like other lunatics. Taking a little of my pocket money, who knows, might do me some good.”

“What?” Commissioner Gordon was surprised by Bruce’s calm reaction. Most of the handsome and elite of Gotham would have already exploded in anger at being robbed in their own homes, especially by a few children.

“They stole about three percent of my total commodities,” Bruce said with a shake of his head. “There were plenty of better and bigger traps in the city: the museums, the banks, but these geniuses chose me. I guess I’m flattered.”

“Flattered? Mr. Wayne, they’re criminals!” Commissioner Gordon was astonished by the billionaire’s calmness at the situation. He sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne. We’ll do our best to track them down.”

“No matter. From what I’ve seen and heard, those boys walk away with whatever they want,” Bruce said. “They’re smart, cunning, ruthless, and they work together.” If Commissioner Gordon didn’t know any better, he may have detected a note of pride in Bruce’s voice.

“Mr. Wayne?” he asked.

The man walked over to the safe and carefully touched the handle. A small smiled curled on his lips.

“Those boys are good. Very good.” He began to laugh a little. “It looks like I’ve met my match.”

All right, Grayson, I’ll give you credit. You and your team rule the night.

A-A-A

The car sped down the highway like a roaring train. Red Hood’s black hair flapped in the wind and he ran his fingers through it.

“Yahoo!” Robin sang out. He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat. “I knew we could do it, I knew we could.”

Nightwing kept his eyes on the steering wheel.

“Hood! Cops at 2 o’clock,” he shouted. Sure enough, the screaming red and blue sirens were coming up behind them.

“Roger. What do I do until then?”

“Jason!”

“Sheesh, Dick. Give me break.” Jason pulled out his ball-and-rope slingshot from his pocket. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out. Hurling the circular weapon towards them, he watched it hit the tires of a car. The rubber snapped and burned making the police car squeal from the impact. It skidded off the road, smacking the other one in the front.

“Score!” Red Hood slid back into his seat. Robin looked on with great awe.

“How’s about a thanks from you, Dick?”

“The name’s Richard, Jason. If you call me ‘Dick’ one more time . .”

“I know, I know. . I won’t be able to have kids.”

The Jaguar swerved madly to the left. All three boys shifted in their seats. “Lemme see, lemme see,” Robin whined to Red Hood. The older boy handed him a bag of treasure.

“Cripes,” he whistled through his teeth. Robin looked at the shine of platinum bars and admired the nice way the bills flipped through his fingers. Then he pulled out a dazzling emerald necklace and studied its brilliance.

“This would’ve looked nice on Stephanie,” he said to himself longingly.

“Tim!” Nightwing signaled to the little Bird. “We have to hit the bridge. Think you can handle it?” Robin’s eyes sparkled with glee. He cracked his knuckles with great anticipation. Red Hood watched Robin opened up a laptop that he had pre-stashed in the car.

Robin leaned forward, black hair falling into his face while he was putting in coordinates onto his laptop. “We’ll hit Johnson Avenue and make a left. I’m programming the next five streets to hit all green.”

The next light flickered from red to green in the blink of an eye. "Hang on to dinner, boys," Nightwing warned over the roar of the engine. He swerved the Jaguar around so hard that Red Hood's face was nearly plastered into the window. Robin's teeth would've landed in the back of Nightwing's neck if he hadn't buckled up.

"Left! Left!" he shouted, cringing Red Hood's arm tightly.

"Pulse! Pulse!" the young man next to him gasped. Nightwing spun the wheel around like a sailor in a storm. The Jaguar just missed a fire hydrant and set three cars into a traffic jam. Another green light and they just managed to bump into a kiosk. Oranges scattered the streets in a mess of colorful fruit. Without thinking, Nightwing made the tires squeal through them until the windows were splattered with orange goo.

"Oops."

He switched on the windshields to wipe them clean. Robin was clutching at his throat to make sure his breath wasn't extinct. "Heart, you may resume normal pace," he wheezed out. The Jaguar slowed down a little. Robin nodded to Nightwing who made a decent turn on the right. Sure enough, the next few of them took off. The Jaguar passed through each light smoothly and without any trouble. At last, the three of them were over the I566 highway and out of Gotham City. Robin watched the flickering lights of the skyscapers slowly vanish into the horizon behind them. He waved back to Gotham City and sat back down in his seat.

"Aright, boys, you did me proud," Nighwing congratulated them from the front seat. Robin and Red Hood eagerly pulled off their masks and slapped high five to each other. Not a bad night at all.

Then a nasty thought came to Nightwing. “What about Veronica Vreeland?” he asked over his shoulder.

“What about her?” Red Hood asked carelessly.

“We didn’t bump her off yet tonight,” he was informed.

Robin slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. “Damn it! We gain on Wayne and loose out on the town’s biggest red headed bimbo.”

“No we didn’t,” Red Hood promised his teammates. A slow smile spread across his face showing flawless white teeth. He jerked a thumb to the back.

Nightwing’s jaw hit the floor. “Jay, no! You didn’t!”

“Did to. They’re in the trunk,” he declared boldly.

“What is it? What’d he do?” Tim wanted to know.

Red Hood tossed back his black hair with great pleasure. “I stole the tires off her Mercedes,” he said proudly.

Nightwing was cracking up. “Jay, you’re a crazy bastard. Tires! You’ve gotten back to the tires!” he laughed.

“Hey, old habits die hard,” Red Hood shrugged.

They listened to the radio for a while but the reports came in that the mysterious robbers had vanished without a trace, leaving the Faberge Eggs intact but successfully making away with private possessions of Bruce Wayne.

“Next week, we’re hitting Star City’s finest,” Nightwing announced. “My pal Harper’s the lady killer of the town. He’ll help us lie low until we make our next move.”

“What about Wally?” Robin asked over his shoulder. “I want to see him too.”

“We’ll swing by Central City if things go well. But stay out of Metropolis, boys. Wayne’s got too many friends there.”

The car sped off into the night with the radio blaring away with music and three boys arguing nonstop.

A-A-A-A

“Are you all right, Bruce?” Selina asked with great concern. She poured out a hot drink for the evening’s victim and handed it to him. It was almost dawn and everyone else had left. Wayne Manor was finally quiet and peaceful again the way Bruce usually preferred it. Now that the police were done combing the house from top to bottom, there was nothing left for the host to do but let the rooms air out and call contractors to fix whatever damage was done.

“Aside from a small headache, I’m fine,” he reassured her. Bruce sank back into the soft leather cushions of his armchair. The house was finally feeling sane after a night of nonstop chattering. He actually startled to chuckle while he took the coffee from her. “We’ve had quite a show this evening.”

“A show? Bruce, they could have blown up your house!” Selina exclaimed.

“That’s not likely, considered none of them had any real lethal weapons on them. Some of the police got a beating in the head but all of the guests are safe and sound. The Faberge Eggs are going back to the museum all intact. In all, everything’s fine,” Bruce said.

“What about you? You dear boy, getting pick pocketed by some little merry men,” Selina said sympathetically. She kneeled behind Bruce and laid her hands on the back of his shoulders.

“My poor poor, Bruce,” Selina purred, gently massaging his shoulders. Bruce gave a low moan of pleasure from her relieving gesture. He savored the sudden relief that was healing his overstressed muscles. Selina had firm strong hands that he couldn’t take for granted, like other of her hidden talents. He allowed her to work her hands on his back until Selina had him lulled into a calm relaxation for the first time in 12 hours.

“Its money, Selina. It can be replaced,” he assured her.

“Some people love money,” she murmured into his ear. Soft strands of jet-black hair brushed against Bruce’s face when her lips were nearly touching his neck. He turned his head towards her. Selina stopped massaging his back long enough to look into his enchanting cerulean eyes.

“I don’t,” he whispered.

Selina felt Bruce’s hand cup the back of her head. She exhaled, closing her dark green eyes when he gently but firmly pulled her closer to him. His toned fingers casually played through her hair before Bruce pulled her mouth into a deep melting kiss. Selina’s entire body trembled from his touch.

Well, at least those bratty birds did something right, she thought to herself happily, kissing him back.

A-A-A-A

“Champagne, boys? 1966, a very good year.”

“Yes! Thanks, Jay!”

“Not for you, kid. You’re too young.”

“Aw, no fun, Dick.”

“I’m driving here, Jay. I don’t want the blasted bottle!”

“Let it go, Tim. I’ll buy you a motorcycle, ok?”

“How many times did I say to ‘shut up’?”

“A gazillion. Now get that thing away from me.”

“Can we recruit a few girls, Dick?”

“Sure, why not? Then they’ll blab on us and we’ll spend 40 years in prison until we’re old and ugly.”

“Dick and Barbara sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S . . .”

“I thought you liked that model. Ms. Whatzername? Anders? Kory Anders?”

“I thought I said to ..”

“Shut up, we know!”

END