Author's note: Hey guys! Had a new story idea, so here it is. This'll probably be a good few chapters long, but don't expect it to be full story length; I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet. So this one is just my little experiment; it could be three chapters or it could be ten. Your guess is as good as mine at this point. Anyways, please review! How long this gets will depend mostly on the feedback I receive, so... The fate of this story is in your hands. No pressure.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans or Batman

"Bruce, come on!"

The dark man stalked by, his face completely impassive. "Absolutely not."

Twelve-year-old Dick Grayson groaned miserably. "Bruce, I've been training for months. I'm ready for this!"

Bruce Wayne didn't even look up as he clipped on his belt and checked to make sure his equipment was all there. "You're ready when I say you're ready. And you're not ready. So give it up."

Dick looked lost for a moment before steeling his expression and striding up to his mentor. "Look, I know you think I'm just a kid and I'm not prepared for this -"

"That about sums it up," Bruce interrupted with a raised brow. Dick scoffed in annoyance.

"I know you think that, but come on, I've been training down in this dank old cave for almost a year, and it's getting harder and harder for me every time you go off and fight crime and I'm left behind. That Robin costume's just waiting for me, and you're not giving me a chance! How will I ever prove myself if you don't give me that?"

Bruce sighed as he slipped the cowl on over his head. "Look, Dick, I don't know anything about what's happened at this robbery other than it took a fairly skilled person to even get inside. I don't know anything about who he - or she," he added after remembering one particularly lovely cat burglar, "- is, and I don't know how dangerous they are. If the criminal is a real threat, I can't risk bringing you. You could get really hurt."

Dick's face fell. "You don't think I can handle myself?" he said, sounding upset. "Then why do you keep telling me how much I've improved, how good I've gotten so quickly?"

Bruce groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. Having a kid was tough sometimes. "Richard, you have improved, and I am impressed with you," he said slowly, trying to be patient. "But that doesn't mean you're ready for the dangers of actually fighting crime." He sighed and glanced over at his ward. The boy looked absolutely miserable.

He gritted his teeth. Dammit.

"Fine," he said gruffly, and raised a gloved hand before the kid could get too excited. "On one condition: you stay in the batmobile the entire time."

Dick's mouth dropped. "What?! Then what's the point of even going!"

"Take it or leave it, Dick, but I have to go in the next minute, or else this guy's gonna get away," Bruce said with a scowl. Dick's face soured, but he jogged over to his costume and started to change. Bruce groaned again and brought a hand to his head.

God, he needed to beat someone up.

The batmobile screeched to a halt, leaving tire tracks and the smell of burnt rubber in its wake. Batman flung open the door and was about to run out before he hesitated and turned to confront his moody ward.

"Stay," he said sternly. His face darkened at the boy's scathing look. "I mean it, Robin. Don't leave this car no matter what."

"Yes, mom," the boy muttered darkly and slid down further in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Batman nodded once and slammed the door shut before running off.

Robin scoffed and glared angrily after his mentor. Stupid ol' Batman, he thought bitterly. Thinks he's so cool with his pointy ears and his dumb car. "Not ready" my ass. Probably just wants all the credit for himself.

He took the time to glare at his surroundings. They were parked on a narrow, dark city street. No one was around. The building Batman had run into was some sort of tech lab, and they were parked in the back of the building rather than at the main entrance. The police hadn't arrived yet, but it was only a matter of time; they would arrive at the front, and Robin knew Batman hoped to solve whatever problem was happening in the lab before the police detected their presence. Bruce wasn't exactly a big fan of the boys in blue, save for a few select cops. Robin wondered what it was the thief could have been after. Some sort of weapon, maybe, or a computer chip, or a digital file, or even just the passcode to an electronic banking account. It could be anything, really.

He sighed and rested his head against the seat, taking a moment to contemplate his situation. It had been two years since Bruce had adopted him, two years since he had watched his parents fall to their deaths. For the first year, Bruce had kept the secret of Batman, hoping that Dick could lead a normal life. But the boy's thirst for vengeance had forced Bruce's hand. About a year after his adoption, the boy had confessed to his mentor that he fantasized about finding Tony Zucco and putting a bullet in his head. He had hoped Bruce would understand; after all, the man's own parents had been murdered in cold blood.

But rather than encouraging his violence, as Dick had secretly hoped the man would do, Bruce had been extremely disturbed. He had urged Dick to reconsider what murdering a man meant; he had pointed out that Dick was only eleven and such thoughts were far too dark for someone so young. And he had solemnly intoned that killing Tony Zucco would do nothing more than lower Dick to the murderer's level. The boy had been furious; he had told Bruce that the man clearly hadn't loved his parents the way Richard had loved his.

That was when the truth had come out.

It was a distraction, Dick knew. By teaching him to fight crime, Bruce was hoping that Dick would forget about Tony Zucco long enough to move on. It was a simple tactic to channel the boy's aggression, and in a way it had worked. His obsession with Zucco had been transferred into an obsession with the perfection of the fight. When he wasn't doing homework he was training, focusing on getting every new move Bruce taught him exactly right. It frustrated him to no end that he wasn't even close to the level of the Batman. He was working himself into the ground to be on the path toward that level, and he at least recognized that it wasn't healthy.

At the same time, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He loved Bruce, and respected the man deeply. But Bruce would never replace his father; he was a mentor and a friend, but nothing more. He knew that Bruce was concerned with his behavior, but it was easier to ignore knowing that the man wasn't his parent. And he knew Bruce's resistance to letting him out on his first real fight wasn't about him being physically prepared. It was because the man feared Robin's hunger for violence.

It made him feel very, very lonely that his own guardian, who had been in Robin's exact situation, couldn't understand the way he was feeling.

He was lost in thought when suddenly a man strode out of the lab. Robin instantly sat up in his seat, eyes wide. It wasn't Batman; rather, it was a man in an intimidating set of black and orange armor. His face was completely covered, and Robin could only see one eye glinting in the streetlight. The other half of the man's face was completely dark.

Robin took a short breath. This had to be the thief, but where was Batman? Had the thief attacked him and won the battle, or had he simply slipped by the Dark Knight? He swallowed hard and tried to think over the obnoxiously loud pounding of his heart. Batman hadn't been gone long at all; in fact, it had only been a few minutes. The likelihood of him being beaten so quickly was low. Very low. It also wasn't likely that the thief had slipped by Batman's rather impressive senses, yet it seemed like the greater of two possibilities.

The boy nervously bounced his knee as he peered out of the car. The thief didn't seem to be in any hurry; in fact, he was practically strolling down the street. There was something about the man's walk that radiated power; it made Robin feel extremely insignificant.

He frowned. He was tired of being weak. Now it was his turn to be intimidating.

He lifted his hand to open the door before hesitating. If this man had in fact beaten Batman in a fight, Robin was no match for him. Plus he had promised his mentor to stay in the car.

His gaze hardened. This was his chance to prove himself. He couldn't miss it.

Without another thought, his fingers closed over the door handle and he pulled hard, running out of the car. He fumbled nervously with his belt and managed to whip out a birdarang. Taking a deep breath, he raised the weapon so he was ready to throw it and cleared his throat.

"Freeze!" he screamed, and desperately wished he had a deeper voice. The thief stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned around. The one eye widened and then narrowed, flicking toward the batmobile and then back to him. Robin began to sweat, but kept his gaze hard and steady. "I said freeze!"

There was a long pause. Robin licked his lips and adjusted his stance, ready for a fight. The thief seemed to be thinking hard, and it was making Robin edgy, to say the least.

Finally, the man sighed and clasped his hands loosely behind his back. "I did freeze," he said slowly, as if he were talking to a three-year old. "What else do you want me to do, strike a pose?" The man's voice was a deep purr, dark and deep and everything Robin's voice most definitely was not.

The boy gaped for a moment and then blushed scarlet. "Yeah, right, you uh, actually listened to me," he muttered, embarrassed, then coughed and tried to harshen his voice again. "Well... Get on the ground!"

"Why?" the thief asked, tilting his head to one side. If possible, Robin's face turned even redder.

"Because... Because you're a criminal, and you have to answer for your crimes!"

"What on earth does that have to do with me getting on the ground? I can 'answer for my crimes' standing up, can't I?"

Robin couldn't help but gawk. This wasn't exactly how he had pictured his first interaction with a criminal going.

"You're... Really weird for a thief," he said slowly, not knowing quite what else to say.

He couldn't see it, but he could feel the man's smirk. "Says the boy dressed up like a traffic light. Honestly, green, yellow and red? Not the most practical costume choice. How old are you, anyway?"

"None of your business," he snapped, slightly offended by the age question. "And it's not like orange and black is so much better. I don't know if you've heard, but Halloween isn't for a few more months." It was his first time showing off his parent's colors outside of the circus, and he couldn't help being a little defensive.

The man stared at him long and hard. Robin was sweating profusely at this point, and was wondering where the hell Batman was. Finally the man shook his head. "I don't have time to talk to some bratty kid. Don't bother me again." He turned to walk away.

Without even thinking, like the motion was something deeply ingrained in him, Robin loosed the birdarang. His arm was completely steady; his wrist flicked the exact way he had practiced it in the bat cave. Only this time, his target was a human being instead of a dummy.

The weapon sliced through the air with a cheerful whistle and embedded itself in the thief's shoulder blade.

The man only grunted and stumbled a little, and Robin was instantly impressed with his stoicism; that had to have hurt. The man slowly reached over his shoulder and pulled out the blade with a grunt. He turned around again and faced Robin, who had already unsheathed another birdarang.

"I said, freeze," the boy said darkly, and felt a little thrill at how intimidating he sounded.

The man looked down at the bloody blade in his hand and then back at the boy. "Impressive," he purred, and Robin blinked in confusion. The man was... Complimenting him? After he had put a birdarang in the man's back?

Definitely not the average thief.

"Very impressive," the man praised again, and let the birdarang clatter to the ground. "But fighting your enemies is about more than having good aim. My next question is... Can you keep up?"

Robin narrowed his eyes. "Huh?"

And then with no warning the thief was sprinting away at top speed, which was awfully fast considering how heavy that armor had to be. Robin stood flabbergasted for a moment before starting to give chase.

Then, for the second time that night, he hesitated. It could take a long time to catch up to this guy; Batman would come out of the lab only to find his ward gone without a trace.

He should wait for his mentor. Or call him. But going off on his own was stupid. Terrible idea. He was just a kid, after all.

He saw the thief disappear into an alleyway. He gritted his teeth and bounced nervously in place for just a moment before taking off after his quarry.

Batman was literally going to kill him.