Grayson looks ridiculous.
I can't believe that the scourge of the criminal underworld would throw a brightly colored orphan in hot pants at someone as vicious as Killer Croc. Without even considering the fact that "Robin" has all the upper body strength of an asthmatic amputee, putting a child in this position so soon after loss surpasses neglect and endangerment and simply becomes insane. He slowly becomes more and more irrational every day, devoting every waking hour to the war. Robin sees it too, but he is caught up in the adventure. Grayson does not yet see the path for what it truly is. But I hold my tongue as I have my entire life. It is not my place to judge. I am the servant and he is my master. But I am also his father and he is my son.
Bruce what are you doing?
They've been in the cave for over an hour. I observe from the maintenance platform as they continue to trade blows. Master Bruce continues to hold back. He could snap Grayson's neck in an instant. But Robin is coy as well, hiding one last trick up his sleeve. For all the theater and absurdity they devote to the fight it is nonetheless real and all the more terrifying. Ever the acrobat, Grayson evades the Bat's thunderous blow and leaps for the roof of the cave. Master Bruce is too focused on his target and too relaxed with his surroundings. The home field arrogance is his undoing as Master Grayson knows all too well. The Dark Knight lunges after his squire and falls to the blackest depths below. Robin throws his lifeline and secures Master Bruce in the nick of time.
Perhaps I was too quick to judge. After all I can no longer tell which is the man and which is the boy.
Alone in a cold dark cave tending to the soft hum of the most advanced arsenal on the planet. After the dusting and sweeping there isn't much to do except reminisce. I remember when Master Bruce had the same vitality and whimsy that Master Grayson clings onto. I would be hard pressed to spot it now, but there was a time when he would smile, a time when joy filled his heart. Master Bruce wasn't strong enough to hold onto his childhood. He wasn't strong enough to hold onto love and hope and happiness. In time they were swallowed whole by the void, the darkness, the bat. Perhaps this is why he choose the boy. Richard Grayson is everything Bruce could never be... wise, compassionate, and loving. Bruce has at long last found his childhood in Robin, and he refuses to let it go.
The fight...the fall...it doesn't make sense. Bruce hasn't fallen down since he was eight years old. Perhaps he wanted Robin to win?
It's been three days since I've slept.
Young Master Grayson comes home scarred. Not a scar of flesh or bone but one of the soul. He was witness to the downfall of Gotham's shining knight. Harvey Dent is dead, only Two-Face remains.
The Batman seems....untroubled.
The 24-hour news cycle is curiously tardy. Word of Batman's protege was not spread until early this morning. Lieutenant Gordon fields a barrage of questions from the Gotham Gazette and dismisses them in turn. "With no actual proof that the Batman himself exists, how likely is it that his side-kick is any more real?"
Gordon, the only honest police officer in the whole of Gotham having to resort to outright lies. If I had any sense of irony it would be tickled.