"This is the best day of my life!"

Jason Todd is so CUTE in that scene from Batman Under the Red Hood! :3 I'm going to keep him!

Oh.

That's right.

I do not own Young Justice or anything related to DC comics.

Phooey.


Useful information for the story:

*10-80 is a police code for Initiating Pursuit.

*510 is a police code for Speeding.

*505A is a police code for Reckless Driving.

*417 is a police code for Person With a Gun.

*417k is a police code for Person With a Knife.

*273A is a police code for Child Neglect.

*213 is a police code for Use of Illegal Explosives.

Note: These are some forms of police code and may not be applicable in all states.


Officer John Weldon was new to his post in Gotham. He'd been briefly informed of its drudgery, its psychopathic villains and the frequent visits of heroes from neighboring cities. He'd received a scant description of a certain dynamic duo who patrolled the streets at night and kept the criminals at bay.

He had not been warned that one of those heroes was a child.

Nor had he been cautioned that he should never argue the law with Batman.

Hence, when he saw a red and black motorcycle driving over an hundred miles per houragainst the traffic, Officer Weldon did not hesitate to channel headquarters.

"Officer Weldon calling 10-80* on a 510*... er, make that a 505A* on a black and red RV cycle. No licence plate in view. Initiating pursuit."

Sirens wailed and rubber smoked as Weldon gunned the engine. He didn't notice the black ford his brightly clad quarry was following, nor the large, fancily dressed man shouting curses over the traffic. He didn't know that at that very moment fifty-nine police officers were gathered around headquarter radios, and every squad car on duty was listening in on the chase. He was completely ignorant to the fact that bets were being passed around even now as to whether or not a certain red clad hero would be issued a traffic violation.

Whoever the driver of the RV cycle was, he was either insanely brilliant or just plain stupid. With expert precision he weaved his vehicle around the oncoming cars, skirting in front of a semi and swerving to avoid a collision with a blaring convertible. He narrowed rapidly on his target and was beginning to stand on the seat of his motorcycle, preparing to jump or commit who-knows-what-kind-of-insanity.

Enough was enough! Panicked by the kid's crazy stunts (and he could tell the driver had to be underage), Weldon screeched to the right of the boy's motorbike and latched a hand onto his shoulder, pushing him back onto his seat.

"Hey! What - !"

"Reduce speed and pull over," Weldon ordered over the loudspeaker. The kid looked more than prepared to argue, but with a grumbling sigh he slowed down. Weldon backed off slightly, giving the kid room to park at the side of the road.

Traffic was backed up considerably and Officer Weldon was receiving his fair amount of gawking stares. Pulling in behind the oddly garbed delinquent, he waved for the line of cars to drive on. He stepped out and pulled a notepad from his back pocket, licking the end of a pen and scribbling down the growing list of traffic offenses.

"Do you have any idea what crazy stunts you were trying to pull?" he berated, shaking his head at the idiocy of youth. "Driving seventy miles over the speed limit against oncoming traffic, driving without a helmet, no - "

"Look, Officer," the kid said, his mannerism screaming impatience, "I don't think you know what's going on here. That was Penguin who just went through - "

"I don't care if it was your schizophrenic grandmother." Officer Weldon rolled his eyes. "Driving through a red light on the left side of oncoming traffic is a serious breach of the rules, boy. Now where's your license plate?"

"It's the Robin Cycle," the kid retorted scathingly. "It doesn't have one."

The glare shot in his direction was intended to intimidate, but Weldon was too ticked off by the kid's attitude to be properly terrified. "Driving without a license plate, then. That's at least five marks against you so far. I assume you don't have a driver's licence, either."

"Does this work?" the kid growled, holding up an identity card of some sort.

Weldon took the card and examined it skeptically, raising an eyebrow at the masked figure pictured. "'Young Justice League: Robin, Serial: B-01, Age: Thirteen, Protege of: Batman.' Pretty fancy get-up, kid, but this ain't a licence."

"What - Look! I'm Robin! You know, the 'Boy Wonder?'" Robin studied Weldon shrewdly through his mask. "You're new at this, aren't you?"

The kid sighed heavily, rubbing a hand through his unruly black hair. "Look, the cops around here know me. I work with Batman and help keep the criminals in Arkhaam. In fact, I'm supposed to be chasing one down right now. Just call Officer Gordon if you don't believe me."

Oh, so this was one of those vigilantes he had heard of. Well, that might put things into perspective, but ... really, this kid had no business driving like a clown gone berserk.

"Hmph. I see. Well, that's no excuse for your driving, Robin," Weldon said, jotting down the information he had just received. Was this kid really only thirteen? What kind of freaked out squadron would send him out on an unlicensed motorcycle when those frontal brain lobes clearly hadn't developed?

"Can't you just call Officer Gordon and have him explain?" the kid whined.

"I assure you, he'll have the full details in my report." Weldon scribbled down a few more felonies he had witnessed. "Ignoring the double yellow line dividing traffic, illegal u-turn in the middle of the intersection, no use of turn signals during your serpent style road rage..."

"Road rage?" Robin spluttered, "Tell that to the guy I was chasing down!"

"Driving underage," way underage, "Inadequate driver's license," here Weldon returned the card to the blustering sidekick, "No proper securing on the footrest, standing on the seat of your vehicle... Do your parents know what you've been doing?"

"My parents are dead," Robin snapped.

Officer Weldon cleared his throat awkwardly and mumbled, "Apologies, kid. Do you have a legal guardian, then?"

"Can I call Batman?"

"Is he your guardian?" Weldon sighed. Really, this kid was trying his patience. He was tallying up the criminal offenses worse than an armed robber with an injured hostage. At this rate he'd be lucky to get any form of licence before he was twenty-five.

"I'm Robin," Robin said tartly. "I think that automatically makes Batman my guardian."

"You have documents to prove that?"

"What?" Robin squeaked. "What kind of proof do you need? Honestly, didn't they tell you anything back at headquarters?"

"From what I can tell, you're a teenage thrill seeker masquerading as a vigilante - "

"Not the bad guy, here!"

" - Wearing a mask to conceal your identity, who is driving underage with an illegal license. Not to mention you've violated nearly every rule in the book. Kid, you're coming down with me to headquarters."

Robin was silent for a moment. "You're kidding."

"Don't make me add avoiding arrest to the list," Weldon warned gravely. Reaching for his radio, he called it in. "This is Officer Weldon with the 510, 505A... 417*," he added, noticing the utility belt strapped around the kid's waist. "Likely 417k* as well." Those sharp disks peaking out of Robin's side pouch were certainly not crafted from plastic. "Calling in a 273A*, for that matter, for one Batman. I'm bringing the kid down to headquarters. Officer Weldon out."

"This is not asterous," Robin muttered, glaring at the asphalt. "Heavy on the dis."

Whatever that meant. "All right, kid," Weldon ordered, unlocking the side door and motioning for Robin to get in. "Leave the cycle here and I'll have someone tow it back to headquarters."

At that moment distant shots echoed. Robin's head shot up at the sound and before Weldon could make a sound the RV cycle's engine roared to life.

"Sorry, Officer!" Robin called over his shoulder. A handful of disks clattered on the ground, issuing clouds of grey smoke. "Gotta get this."

Coughing and choking, Officer Weldon stumbled back to his car. and shut the door tightly. Activating his radio, he croaked, "Officer Weldon here: Target escaped. Adding a 213* to the list."

With so many charges ringing up for one person, Weldon was beginning to wonder why backup had not arrived. True, Robin hadn't posed any physical threat, but he was still an armed delinquent running from the law. And from the looks of things he was still piling on the traffic violations!

Growling low, Weldon slammed his foot on the accelerator. "You're not getting away with this on my watch."

By the time he caught up to Robin the kid had cornered his target. His cycle had been parked illegally in the middle of the road while he strapped a pair of handcuffs to an agitated man wearing a business suit. Another police officer was standing close by, congratulating the kid for his good work.

"Oh, and one more thing," the officer added, glancing sideways at Weldon. He stepped up behind Robin and casually pulled the kid's hands behind his back, cinching a pair of handcuffs securely but not too tightly around slender wrists. With a tease in his voice he announced, "From the looks of things you're under arrest."

Robin gaped, staring at the other officer as though he had grown three heads. "I'm what?"

"Under arrest for charges of armed felony and reckless drivin'." The officer grinned, touching two fingers to his hat in a mock salute. "Mind you, that's Officer Weldon's charge, not mine."

"I don't believe this!" Robin shouted in outrage. "Officer Stanley, you know who I am. Tell this guy to lay off the speeding regulations already!"

"Love to, but, um..." Stanley winced. "Can't stand around to argue the point. Hafta deliver the prisoner, after all. You'd better go with him, Robin. Commander Gordon can clear everythin' up."

All officers who had radio access were caught up in the escapade, now. It seemed only justice that the prank-dealing, cheeky Robin should be dealt a cruel little joke at the hand of the newest rookie. Of course, Stanley would never let on that he'd taken a part in the matter. Facing the wrath of the Bat was worse than a one way trip to the Asylum.

"Come on, kid," Weldon said, taking Robin's elbow and lifting him to his feet. "The sooner you get this over with the better."

"Better keep a close eye on him," Stanley cautioned as he locked the Penguin in his own vehicle. "He's a slippery one."

"I don't believe this!" Robin repeated. "This is not whelming! Not whelming at all!"


When Officer Weldon drove into police headquarters, he found it curious to see so many idle officers standing around. Passing it off as the cheer squad for 'rookie's first catch,' he paid them no mind and turned to let out Robin.

To his surprise, the door was already unlocked. Robin glanced up from where he had been leaning against the seat cushions, hands knitted behind his head. Even behind the mask his eyes gleamed with amusement, unsettling Weldon more than he wanted to let on.

"Are we there already?" Robin asked nonchallantly, stretching leisurely and yawning.

"How did you ... oh." The question was left hanging as Robin demonstrated the lock picks concealed in his gloves. Stanley wasn't kidding when he said the kid was slippery. Weldon realized he should consider himself lucky that Robin was still in the car.

Pushing the matter aside, he took the young hero by the arm and led him firmly but without unneccessary roughness into the lobby... where, perplexingly, he had a weloming committee.

"So, the Boy Wonder finally gets his due!" Officer Pete cackled at his own joke. "Don't worry, we've got a nice cage already set up for our favorite Robin. Would you like a perch for the night or do you prefer hanging from your ankles like the Bat?"

"That's enough," Commander Gordon interceded, stepping calmly from his office. He had to admit he was amused by the turn of events, but precautions would need to be taken to ensure the police gathering didn't turn into an angry mob. "Pete, I believe you have patrol duty."

"Just thought I'd say 'hi' to our favorite street sweeper." Pete cast a look of veiled hatred in Robin's direction. He shoved past Robin, cursing as he suddenly tripped.

"Why you - !"

"Patrol, Pete!" Gordon's barked.

"He just - !"

"Why the handcuffs?" Robin said icily, holding up the arm Pete had brushed against. A cuff dangled from his wrist, latched tight enough to cut off circulation.

"All right, that's enough," Gordon ordered. "The lot of you: head to your duties. Weldon, Parkerson, you're with me. Christopher, take Weldon's post. The rest of you clear the station."

Mumbled 'Yessir's' and muted comments drifted through the crowded room as the cops slowly filed out. Some cast dire looks in Robin's direction, others clapped him heartily on the back and wished him luck, and chuckles were gleaned from nearly every officer.

Robin appeared unfazed by the commotion, even where Pete's threat was concerned. As soon as the four were alone in the room, however, his bravado disappeared. He seemed to shrink into himself and asked quietly, "Can you get this off?"

He held out his wrist, where already the skin was beginning to bruise. Gordon sighed heavily, fishing out a key and removing the binder.

"Sorry about that, Robin." His voice was clipped with frustrated anger. "You all right?"

"Yeah," the kid said, lacking his previous cheer. Only now did Weldon notice the bruises beginning to form on his cheek. Had the boy been injured while fighting the Penguin? He hadn't appeared to be in any sort of pain. Perhaps he hadn't noticed the blows in the commotion, or he perhaps he had a higher pain tolerance than Weldon would have credited.

At that moment a dark shadow swept into the room. The lights flickered and the atmosphere seemed to grow colder as heavy boots stamped into the lobby. "Robin?"

The kid sighed in relief, turning with the others to face the Dark Knight. "Hey, Batman. Sorry I'm late. They've got a rule stickler on patrol."

Batman's gaze snapped onto Weldon and the Officer finally understood the terror instilled in the rumored 'Bat-Glare.' If this was what criminals faced every night... well, if he were one of them he'd probably beg for Arkhaam, too.

The moment was cut mercifully short as Batman turned to his protoge. "Are you all right, Robin?"

"Fine," Robin said dully. He sighed and rubbed the bruising on his wrist. "Not feeling the aster, though."

Batman immediately honed in on the injury, his glare snapping back to Weldon. "Did you do this?"

"Wh-what?" Weldon couldn't help but stutter. "Wait, that? No, I didn't - "

"Weldon didn't hurt him," Gordon spoke up. "He was just doing his job. Stanley reported that Robin was already in a fight with The Penguin. You can thank one of the lesser officers for that bruising on his wrist. I'll see to it that the situation is adressed."

"Do so," Batman said grimly. He laid a hand on Robin's shoulder as the boy swayed, guiding him with surprising gentleness to a chair and ignoring Robin's protests that he was 'perfectly fine.'

"What made you think you had the right to detain him here?" he asked Weldon in a chilling tone.

Taking a deep breath, (a very deep breath), Weldon responded calmly,

"Sir, this kid was driving an unliscensed motorbike without a helmet, driver's liscense or proper safety equipment. He violated thirty traffic laws, which included a severe speeding penalty, driving under the permitted age of sixteen, and wielding dangerous equipment. Now tell me this; how can you allow a mere child to go so far beyond the law when - so they tell me - you are attempting to preserve it yourself?"

"All right, I can explain this," Gordon interjected, pushing Robin back into his chair when the teen attempted to defend himself against Weldon's reference to 'a mere child.' "Weldon, I realize you haven't been informed of the exceptions made concerning the Young Justice Team. I'll see to it you have a fully detailed report on what to expect from each of their members.

"Batman, I apologize for this mistake. I would not have detained your protege save for the matter that it is true he should have proper liscensing for himself and his vehicle. Now before you say anything further," he added as Batman started to argue, "If I expect my officers to drive with identification plates, it's only natural that the same should be asked of Robin. I won't ask you to register the Batmobile, but it will save a lot of trouble in the future if we can identify the liscense ahead of time and prevent further complications."

"Do we have to do it now?" Robin asked blearily, cupping his chin in his hand as his eyelids drooped. "It's four in the morning. I've got school in three hours."

It was all Weldon could do to keep hs mouth shut. The kid had just chased down a criminal, hacked a complex locking system and mouthed off an officer for good measure, and he was worried about school that day?

"This won't take long," Gordon assured Batman. "But I'll need it on record before you take him on patrol again. You can take the forms with your or fill them out here, but I'll need him present for a few photographs; don't worry, he can keep the mask on."

Batman's eyes flitted between Robin, Gordon and the stack of papers shoved into his hand. Growling deep in his throat and casting Gordon a scaulding look as though to say, 'You are going to regret this when I send the next Arkhaam criminal sailing through your windshield,' he swept his cape aside and settled into a chair. The three officers retreated to Gordon's office, giving the Justice Leader his space.

"Are you getting this on the security cameras?" Gordon muttered to Parkerson around a cup of coffee.

"Every word."

"Is this... normal?" Weldon asked, not certain what to make of the 'deadly Batman' using an ordinary pen and paper. His young protoge, now fast in danger of losing all contact with the world, had wrapped his cloak around himself like a blanket and was curled up against the dark knight. It was kind of... adorable... in a really weird sort of way.

"You should see him when he's angry," Gordon snorted, following Weldon's gaze. "You got it off lucky, you know; most rookies who arrested his boy would find themselves hanging from the flagpole by this time."

"His... boy...?"

Parkerson grinned. "Yeah, Batman's in 'Daddybats' mode right now. He's really protective over his little bird. Don't ever say that within his hearing, though. Bad idea. Like, really bad idea." Parkerson glanced shrewdly at Gordon. "He didn't actuallyhaveto do that paperwork, did he?"

"Like I'm going to pass up on this kind of opportunity? Pete's not the only one who gets aggravated by the Bat from time to time."

"So this is all a practical joke," Weldon observed.

"Oh, no, it's real enough." Gordon shook his head. "I've been concerned about this for a while. The kid might land in juvenile hall if the wrong officer catches him. I won't be answering to Batman when that happens."

Parkinson whistled low and quiet. "I wouldn't be dealing with him now, if I were the look of things he hates paperwork."

Indeed, the Bat-Glower would have sizzled paperwork if the documents had not been considered imperitive. An iron fist would have crushed the armrest if a certain dark haired teen had not been curled up against it. The pointed ears would have been smoking - metal or not - had there not been danger of the fire alarms setting off the sprinklers overhead and awakening the slumbering Robin. Officer Gordon was right; the dreaded Batman was a softy when it came to his protege.

Even so, that didn't mean Weldon wanted to be around when he finished the documentation. Gordon sensed his uneasiness and nodded towards the door.

"I'll send you the guidebook for dealing with those two before your next patrol. Until then, make yourself scarce."

Officer Weldon could not have been happier to comply.


"So you let him arrest you ... and he got away with it?"

Wally stared at the photo of a bleary eyed, half awake Robin. He had been in the middle of blinking when the camera flashed. Robin had derisively compared his license to the Joker before throwing it in the general direction of the fire.

Even after being pulled from school for the day to rest, Richard was making up for a two week coffee run with less than four hours of sleep a night and his aim were thankfully far from adequate. Bruce would not have been pleased if he had had to endure another photo shooting after the last mishap. He had half led, half carried Robin out of the room the minute the licensing process was over, the Batmobile tearing off at a velocity that made Gordon almost wish he had ordered a license for Batman as well. Almost.

Wally examined the plastic card with intrigue. It was the first to be customized specifically for a league member, after all. "'Name: Robin. Age: 13. Weight: 103' - One-o-three? Dude, you've got to start eating more."

Dick responded by throwing a cushion at his head.

"'License issued in the city of Gotham by Officer James Gordon. Driver is permitted to utilize the roads in Gotham city within the same ruling as a police officer.'"

"They made me get a gun license, too," Dick whined from under a pillow. "Batman was ready to throttle them."

No one had to guess that Robin's initial plaintitive attitude at the station had been a warm-up for Batman's arrival. After all, no one trolled Robin without receiving vengeance tenfold. Exhaustion had caught up in the end and cinched Robin's ploy in perfect timing. Weldon had yet to face the Daddybat's wrath.

"What did Batman do to Officer Weldon?" Roy wondered, taking the card from Wally and examining it with mingled pity and scorn.

"Nothing," Dick moaned. "He tossed me in the Batmobile and once we got back ordered me to go to bed and stay there until Alfred came to wake me up. I was stuck in my room for hours! Not asterous!"

"Wait, he didn't even reprimand that guy?" Wally was abashed. "He didn't wipe out his car, or hang him from the nearest telephone wire, or even give him the Daddybats lecture?"

"I think he was just trying to get away from the paperwork," Dick said. "Weldon was gone by the time he finished. Besides, it was too close to daylight to chase him down without jeopardizing his identity."

Wally and Roy exchanged a glance.

"Dude, we have got to do something about this," Wally announced.

"You'd only be arrested for armed assault on a police officer," Dick pointed out with a groan. "Believe me, Weldon would see it done. Seeing as Roy is eighteen he'd probably also accuse him of dragging a minor into the crime."

"Hey!"

"Rob's got a point," Roy said, clapping a hand on Wally's shoulder and giving him a sly wink. At Wally's look of bewilderment he added, "After all, didn't the League teach us there are other methods besides violence?"

After all, if the next morning Officer Weldon's pristine lawn was carpeted with exactly 3,001 arrows stuck into the ground, he could only blame it on the hobby shop selling a massive order to a herd of pranksters. If his house was toilet papered and painted bright red and yellow with interspersed Flash and Kid Flash symbols, it was probably to be blamed on a local gang out for a night of fun. If Weldon's civilian car radio was hacked and played nothing but Pokemon music, the cartoon Batman theme, and a recording of insane cackling, then the fault clearly lay with the auto repair man.

And if the following day he discovered his car had been mysteriously levitated to the roof, the handles of his silverware and combat knives had uncannily morphed into images of the Justice League, the entire backyard, basement and garage had been flooded (and how all the water had managed to stay inside until Weldon opened the door was beyond him), the lamposts outside his house had been twisted into the symbol of Superman (and then dented further out of place with what looked like a serious fist strike), and several hundred wanted posters had been secured with arrows around the neighborhood - complete with his picture and description and the accusation of kidnapping a minor, well then it was time to wonder if picking on the kid brother of the Young Justice Team had been his wisest course of action.

And if, by any chance, the following morning after that he found the Superman lampposts pulverized to dust, an outraged Officer Pete hanging from the roof where Weldon's car used to be, and said car crushed onto the pavement with a batterang pinning thirty tickets with his handwriting to the smashed hood...

Well, it was safe to assume one never instigated the wrath of Daddybats.