Chapter Ten

The smells were what finally forced him to wake up. Where was he? He couldn't open his eyes; it hurt too much to think. He felt sick, woozy. What happened? How did he get here?

The overwhelmingly noxious odors gagged him. He couldn't breathe without fear of losing his lunch. He sat on something hard and cold . . . the floor? . . his arms and hands were held back behind him. He seemed to be leaning against something long and hard . . . a pole? Cautiously Dick slitted his eyes open. He was sitting on the floor in the middle of a room the size of the Haly Circus big top, and his hands were handcuffed behind a pole.

A series of large paned windows ran above him at almost ceiling level. Just below the ceiling area was a series of catwalks and girders. Directly above him, a ceiling skylight allowed the silvery beams from the newly risen moon to peek through. He must be in a factory, probably abandoned.

Dick felt strangely pleased that he'd been able to assess his situation correctly. He tried to slow down his breathing, but it only made him want to take deeper breaths, which he immediately regretted. Everything started coming back. His overhearing of McEwan and Kat's conversation. His running out of the abandoned nightclub and his headlong rush into the nighttime sidewalks of Crime Alley.

He remembered running without thinking, without looking where he was going, without being aware that he was being followed. Eventually, common sense had prevailed and Dick had done what he did best. He'd taken to the higher elevations . . .

****

Dick spotted a fire escape in an alleyway and ran towards it. He jumped and reached it easily. He climbed to the rooftop of the building, then began moving swiftly and quietly above the crowded streets below. He eventually came to a momentary rest over an abandoned pawnshop. He stood and watched the street below for a few minutes, then feeling an utter sense of loss over having cut his last remaining ties to people whom he'd grown fond of, he sat down on the roof of the building.

Dick pulled Elinore out from where she snuggled inside his jacket and held her to him.

<Well, you're all alone now. Great going, Dick. You didn't even say good-bye. >  His inner voice rang chastisingly.

"Yeah, well, you heard Fingers . . . he was only using me to get back at Zucco," he replied.

<Sure, he was only using you. So was Lucky when he was killed by Napalm and Gunner. Gee, *he* sure used you, didn't he? > Dick's inner voice said ironically.

"Aw, cut it out . . . what do *you* know? Nobody wants me. Mom and Dad are gone and I don't have anybody. I'm gonna go somewhere where I can be left alone!"

<Well, you're sure on the right track if being left alone is what you want! But you're not being fair to Pop and Fingers. They've done nothing but try to be your friend. It's not Pop's fault if the court says you can't live with him. >

"I know that, but why didn't he come back for me? Why didn't he tell me? Why did he just leave?" Dick's emotions finally spilled over into tears, and as he'd done since he was a baby, he held Elinore to him and cried into her soft cloth exterior.

"Because he doesn't love you like I do." The deceptively mild voice startled Dick. A shadowy figure began taking measured steps toward him. At last the light from a lone street lamp caught him: Mikey! Dick jumped up and began to edge towards the location of the fire escape. "Come on, Dicky . . . that *is* your name, isn't it? Don't be afraid. I just want to show you how much I can love you."

His heart pounding, Dick made a break for it! He never made it. He was grabbed from behind by Tommy. "Let me go! LET ME GO!" Dick shouted, struggling helplessly. As he fought with his much larger and stronger opponent, Dick accidentally dropped Elinore. Tommy almost immediately stepped on her with his muddy combat boots, ripping her faded outer covering and popping out her left eye.

"Mikey, come on, willya!" Tommy yelled exasperatedly. "He's harder to hold than a slippery eel! Hey! Watch it! Ow-w! You little . . . I'm gonna . . . " Dick had finally calmed down and thinking quickly had slammed the full force of his feet into Tommy's stomach, causing him to momentarily loosen his hold.

That was all Dick needed. He landed in a ball, did a shoulder roll, picked up Elinore, and ran to edge of the building. As he neared the edge, he mentally prepared himself for a power leap. At the last possible moment, he was tackled from behind. Elinore went flying over the edge in a graceful arc. Dick's hands were expertly cuffed behind him and he was hauled unceremoniously to his feet. Mikey's cruel features smiled suddenly; he then slapped the back of his open palm across Dick's face.

The smaller boy immediately went down on his knees in a daze. He huddled awkwardly in a small tucked ball, forehead and knees on the roof. As he felt the world stop spinning, he slowly began to sit up. Looking down, he noticed bloodstains on his jacket, and red splotches dripping periodically below him. He was bleeding, probably from a nosebleed. He thought he was going to be sick.

"Puppies need to learn to love their masters. Now I already told you, Dicky, that I love you. And I want to show you just how much, but if you disobey me, and do bad things like this again, well you'll give me no choice except to punish you. Do you understand?" Dick *didn't* understand, but nodded nevertheless.

"Go on, give him the highball," Tommy broke in. "We can't transport a screaming kid across the city, and we've got to lay low all day! You *know* what they'll do to us if we're found with a kid!"

"Chill, Tommy! I *know* what I'm doing." Mikey paused to admire his acquisition. He caught Dick's chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted gently. "Just look at him, Tommy. He's absolutely beautiful! Hair the color of the night . . . eyes the color of the daytime sky . . . and his complexion . . . so smooth and creamy . . . this boy is the embodiment of pre-Raphaelite perfection, even *with* a nosebleed. And you should *see* him fly!" Dick didn't know what they were talking about, but he had no intention of finding out.

Now! he thought. While they're occupied with what they plan to do with me.

Dick was on his feet instantly, and before Tommy and Mikey could react, had executed three quick back somersaults. Unfortunately, because his hands were handcuffed behind him, he was unable to maintain his center of gravity, and on the final flip, he landed awkwardly on his right shoulder. Mikey got to him first, but before he could grab him, Dick swept his would be kidnapper's feet out from under him and quickly rolled out of the way. As he struggled to regain his feet, Tommy again brought him down from behind.

"NO! LET ME GO!" Dick screamed in frustration. He'd been so close.

"Shut up! Just shut up," Tommy yelled. "Mikey, the highball . . . now!" Mikey hurried over. He pulled out a syringe, adjusted the dose, then stabbed Dick in the upper arm. Dick's eyes widened in fear. Drugs! Ohmygod! No! He felt the night swallow him whole . . .

****

And now here he was . . . Wherever *here* was. He closed his eyes against another wave of nausea. "I must be near the sewers or the sanitation department," he muttered to himself. "Okay, Dick, got things to do and places to go . . . let's see if these cuffs are anything like Uncle Carl's. Dick ran his fingers as best he could around the metal bracelets holding him prisoner. Hmm-mm . . . they *seemed* familiar. Well, only one way to find out, and the quicker the better.

Dick knew that some of his nausea wasn't being caused by the smells around him. Mikey's eyes still haunted him. The hunger Dick saw in them sent cold shivers down his spine. Okay, Dick, Master Contortionist . . . Master Acrobat . . . Junior Escape Artist . . . let's see you reach your pants' pocket. How did Uncle Carl say to do it? Let's see . . . move the hips like so . . . twist the shoulder this way . . . ouch! Hey that hurts! . . . Of course, it hurts, Stupid! God didn't intend your shoulders to bend like that! Almost there . . . just a little bit more . . . There! Got it! Dick thought triumphantly as he held the skeleton key in the palm of his hand. And not a minute too soon, for Mikey and Tommy chose this moment to walk in.

"Ah-h. I see our guest of honor is awake!" Mikey said. "Welcome back, Dicky. Tommy and I have been waiting all day for you to rejoin us. Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Not waiting for Dick to respond, Mikey continued, "Of course, you are. You haven't had anything to eat or drink all day, and that highball I gave you always makes my pets a little dehydrated."

Mikey stood smiling broadly in front of Dick.

"Tommy, why don't you bring our young guest something refreshing to drink?" Tommy nodded and left. "You know, Dick, that pole must be getting mighty uncomfortable. We've set up a room especially for you down the hall. If you promise not to try to escape I can release you and let you sleep over there tonight." He paused and gave Dick a questioning look.

Dick looked away, refusing to fall into the trap that the all-too friendly smile and demeanor were trying to set up. These creepos had kidnapped him! He was darned if he'd play along with them! He didn't know exactly what they wanted with him, but he knew that grown-ups didn't steal children just to be nice to them. For the first time since he regained consciousness, Dick was frightened.

Mikey sighed. "Okay, be stubborn. But don't take too long. I become impatient easily and when I do . . . well, I end up having to teach my puppies lessons in obedience. Most of them learn obedience after only one lesson, but some get all broken. You're kinda small . . . smaller than most of the others, but strong . . . maybe you won't get broken right away . . . but you'll learn obedience sooner or later. I hope it's sooner, 'cause I'd hate to hurt those exquisite looks of yours." He turned to leave.

A crash from the ceiling caught him flatfooted. Dick looked up in shock. The same bat-like creature who'd haunted his dreams soon after his parents' deaths came swooping in. Dick sat frozen, unable to move. He thought his heart would stop. When the creature suddenly descended on Mikey, Dick felt himself galvanized into action.

Fumbling awkwardly with the skeleton key, he immediately tried to free himself. In his haste and nervousness, he dropped the key! Oh, God! No! Quickly looking around, he spotted it about two feet away. Scooting his legs around, he was just able to reach the key with his feet; he quickly nudged it back to where he could he reach it with his hands.

Tommy, alerted by the sounds of battle from the warehouse, ran in, semi-automatic weapon drawn. Spying Batman and Mikey in the middle of a hand-to-hand contest, he tried to get a bead on Batman but was afraid he'd hit Mikey. Movement from the center of the room caught his attention. The kid . . . he was up to something! Tommy immediately concentrated on their prisoner. He couldn't let Dicky escape . . . Mikey had been almost impossible to live with these past few weeks before they found the boy. Tommy was afraid that if Mikey didn't get his opportunity to show Dicky just how much he *loved* him, then he could return to doing *bad things* again.

Tommy shivered. He couldn't go through *that* again. The last time Mikey had done something *bad* the authorities had only found a pinky to identify the missing child. Tommy was a rapist, and he knew that he, himself, was considered a sociopath by the authorities. But Mikey was a *real* sicko, and Tommy knew it. No, he couldn't allow Batman to take Mikey's new toy.

Dick saw Tommy running towards him, and closing his eyes, he concentrated intently on the job at hand.

"There's no audience, Dicky," Uncle Carl's melodious voice rang soothingly through his head. "There's no one here, except you, the locks, and the key . . . concentrate, Dicky . . . you can do it . . . Bravo! You did it!" Triumphantly, Dick held out the handcuffs, saw Tommy coming, kicked up with both feet, and connected solidly with Tommy's chin. Not waiting, he then leaped straight up from his sitting position, caught the pole, and keeping his body in a perfect L-shape, he climbed to the ceiling girders using only his hands and arms.

Batman saw the boy climbing to freedom, and not having to worry about his safety anymore, turned his full savagery on the Gunther brothers. Several kicks and straight jabs later, Mikey and Tommy were handcuffed to the same pole where they'd held Dick captive just a short time ago. Batman searched the ceiling girders . . . where was he? A small shadow crouching beneath the skylight caught his attention. Batman's normally grim looks softened momentarily. The boy had grit.

Dick stood watching the mysterious figure from the relative safety of the ceiling girders. What would he do now? Was he a friend? Dick didn't think he could ever trust another person again. He was startled by the sound of something like a small pistol shot going off followed by a soft whirring sound. The unmistakable clink of metal striking metal came soon after. The next thing he knew the bat-creature was swooping up towards him!

In seconds they stood facing each other. Dick held his position precariously. He hadn't escaped one set of kidnappers for another.

"Stay away from me!" Dick warned. "Stay away or I'll jump! I mean it!"

"Dick, listen to me, son. I know things look pretty bad right now, and I don't blame you for not trusting any grown-ups, not after Tommy and Mikey. But if you can just bring yourself to trust someone one more time, please, I only want to help."

"How do you who I am? Who *are* you?"

"I'm a friend."

"You're that Batman guy that Fingers talked about the other night," Dick suddenly realized. "He said that you wanted to send me back to the JDC. Well, I *won't* go back! I haven't done anything wrong! I *won't* go back to jail!"

"Dick, I promise you, I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. I know Fingers is your friend, but he doesn't know everything . . . and he doesn't know me. But I know *you* . . . I know what you're going through, son. Believe me, I know very well what you're going through."

"No you don't. Nobody does . . . nobody can . . . Everything was perfect with just me and Mom and Dad . . . and now everything is all wrong! Nobody wants me . . . only Mom and Dad loved me . . . and I loved them." Dick began crying. "I want to kill that monster Zucco for what he did . . . I want *him* to die!" Holding onto one of the vertical bars that crisscrossed the ceiling, Dick slowly crumpled in grief and anger.

While Dick had been talking, Batman had been surreptitiously inching himself along the steel girder to his side. Finally, as Dick collapsed, Batman gently lifted him into his arms.

"I *do* understand, son. Believe me, I know *exactly* how you're feeling at this moment. Let me take you home." In the distance, he heard the sounds of sirens already on their way. Batman fired off a jump line, and in the weak light afforded by the half moon, Mikey and Tommy witnessed the eerie sight of a man-sized bat creature fly out of the warehouse. 

****

Lights off, the dark van slowly pulled up the alleyway across from Chu's Drugs. Kat shut the engine. The ensuing silence seemed deafening.

"So what's the plan, fearless leader?" Jay Dee asked. He was crouched behind the passenger seat. He looked up at McEwan. McEwan sighed and looked away. He had absolutely no clue. His arm was still useless. He and his friends did not use weapons of any kind, and he could bet on one thing: the Vigils would be armed and dangerous.

"I say we call nine-one-one," Kat said immediately.

"I second that," Montana said. "All in favor that the Network inform the police of these dirty doings, say *Aye*!"

Jay Dee, Kat, and Montana all chimed in together, "Aye!"

"The *Ayes* have it, Fingers," Montana said. "You want I should find a pay phone or something?"

McEwan looked at his friends annoyed. "Cut out the games, people. This is serious business. We've got to do two things tonight . . . stop the Vigils from torching the Chu's Drugs, *and* capture one of the creeps so's he can tell us what he knows about Dick. And since most of them can barely spell their own names, we need to concentrate on grabbing Blade. He's the only one who'll know if Zucco's got the kid."

"So who's kidding about calling the cops?" Jay Dee asked reasonably. "They're here to *protect and to serve*, right? Well, let them *protect* the Chu's and *serve* as our assault force. The Vigils won't be able to withstand the GCPD SWAT team, and when they scatter like rats, we spring our trap."

McEwan had been only half-listening, but then something clicked in his head. That was it . . . Jay Dee had actually thought up of a viable plan. Why shouldn't they use the SWAT team as their personal assault team? That *was* what  they were here for, right?

"Jay Dee, I think you may have something there!" McEwan answered excitedly.

"What? What did I say? Hey, Fingers, I was only kidding! Honest . . . hey, don't kid, man! You're making me nervous!" McEwan smiled impishly at Jay Dee's discomfiture.

"Who's kidding? . . It's a great plan . . . come on, people, we have a phone call to make!" McEwan opened his door and jumped out eagerly. By the time the others had caught up to him, he was halfway to the nearest pay phone.

Chapter Eleven

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