The following is a work of erotic fiction and includes scenes of sexual activity involving characters copyrighted by DC Comics. This story is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment of fans and should be considered a parody. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from the distribution of this story.
All characters in sexual situations are 18+
Author's Note - The characters in the story are based on those in the original comics (pre 1985) and not any current versions.
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Night had fallen over Gotham City, and with it a blanket of darkness from which emerged those who would take advantage of its protection to break society's laws. On most nights, the thought that Batman was also out there in the darkness was enough to give many of those pause, but for tonight at least a free pass had been issued in the form of a front page photo in one of the city's more irresponsible papers, a photo showing the Caped Crusader on a case in far-off London. As feared at the Dark Knight was, not even he could be in two places at once.
One thing that those who would take advantage of his absence failed to realize, however, was that while Batman was Gotham's foremost champion he was in no way the only one. Second only to the Masked Manhunter was the young man who fought by his side under the guise of Robin. With the senior half of the Dynamic Duo absent, the Teen Wonder was more than anxious to demonstrate to such the error of their folly.
In the few hours since he had begun his patrol, the red, green and yellow garbed adventurer had prevented a half dozen muggings, an equal number of break-ins, and uncounted instances of just showing the flag -- letting people on both sides of society know he was out there.
Gotham's Finest was also on the job; even if in many cases all they were left to do was collect a string of would be perpetrators bound in batcuffs. The word spread quickly around the city in an almost ripple effect. For every crime Robin actually stopped, others still in the planning stages were abandoned. Still, as in most situations, there were always those who didn't get the word -- or were simply too stupid or arrogant to pay attention to it.
With dawn still a few hours away, the eighteen year old crime fighter found himself atop a low rooftop, watching a quartet of leather-jacketed street hoods in the alley below. Looking like something out of an old Fifties motorcycle gang movie, two of the group had just used a small sledgehammer to break the lock on the back door of a curio shop. A store this small, dating back to when this was a much nicer neighborhood, seemed a poor choice of target, especially since there was a much more attractive one, in the form of a pawn shop, just around the corner. Still, whatever the reason for their choice, it was a crime to be prevented.
Attaching a line to a batarang from his utility belt, Robin sent it flying across the alley, where it wrapped around a protruding steel pipe. He gave it a hard tug to be sure it was secure, then leapt down from his perch with the same ease that he once exhibited as the youngest member of the Flying Graysons.
As he dropped, he simultaneously drew two capsules from his belt and sent them hurling ahead of him. His booted feet slammed into the backs of the two closest hoods just as the flash-bang and smoke capsule exploded. The force of his hundred and seventy-five pound body sent his targets crashing to the ground, while the confusion generated by his diversion gave him time to pivot once he was on the ground and face the other two.
Despite the spots in front of his eyes, the hood with the sledgehammer lunged at the Teen Wonder with murderous intent. A carefully aimed karate blow disarmed the assailant, followed by a side kick that sent him slamming into the brick-covered wall.
By the time the thug hit the ground, Robin had turned to face the remaining member of the quartet. Learning from his friend's example, this one approached more guardedly; giving his eyes an added few moments to clear, assuming a stance that demonstrated he had at least a rudimentary knowledge of the martial arts. In the end, it did him little good as, under a quick succession of well placed blows, he joined his confederate down on the ground.
Only then did Robin realize he'd made a potentially serious mistake. Out of the corner of his mask, he spied three more similarly garbed teenagers at the mouth of the alley. Evidently they had been left out on the avenue on lookout and had been attracted by the noise of the flash bang. Unskilled fighters that they probably were, their number, combined with the first two he had only knocked to the ground, could prove a problem.
A swift kick that impacted against the side of the head of the first gang member to come within reach gave the Teen Wonder just enough of an opportunity to exercise the better part of valor. Grabbing hold of his still attached line, he pulled himself upward and, thanks to his well toned leg muscles, was actually able to run up the side of the wall, putting himself out of reach.
Unfortunately, a random element suddenly intervened that forced him to suddenly abandon whatever plan he might have come up with in the next few moments. The back door of the curio shop opened and Robin heard a woman's voice call out. Tilting his head in the direction of the voice, Robin saw a middle-aged woman, presumably the owner of the shop, stepping out into the alleyway -- directly in between the two pairs of still standing hoodlums.
Robin shouted a warning for the woman to get back inside, even as he formulated a renewed plan of attack. Before she could react to his outcry, however, the two closest hoods saw their opportunity and, each taking hold of one of her arms, dragged her out into the alley.
Letting go of his line, Robin dropped to the ground where he was immediately set upon by the first two hoods he had felled. The senior members of the gang, both were older and bigger than the Teen Wonder. Their attack was furious, but in the end long practiced fighting skills proved true, as he freed himself from their grasp and then counterattacked with a quick combination of blows that once more sent both to the ground. This time, he doubted that they would they would be getting up as quickly.
Not waiting to make sure, Robin spun around to face the final two, hoping that they hadn't harmed the woman in the time it had taken him to dispatch their fellows. He was stunned to discover one of them tossed into an open garbage can like yesterday's trash and the other being slammed into the side wall by the curio shop owner. His surprise then turned first to astonishment, then to admiration as the woman pivoted in a perfectly choreographed move and executed an impressive set of combat moves that even Batman couldn't have found fault with. The final member of the gang never knew what hit him.
"Wow!" Robin exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly, as he watched the last attacker fall.
At the sound of his voice, the woman whirled around, her body coming to rest in a battle stance, ready to meet a new challenge. It was only when she recognized the source of the voice that she finally began to relax,
"Are you all right?" the woman asked as she stepped closer to Robin, becoming more illuminated as she stepped directly under the overhead alley light.
"I think that was supposed to be my line," Robin said with a smile as he closed the distance between the two of them.
"I'm fine," she simply replied.
Now that he had the chance, Robin got a much better look at the woman and saw that some, but not all, of his initial impressions about her were true. She looked to be in her early fifties, with just a touch of grey in her dark hair. In excellent shape for her age; Robin considered that she might be a retired cop or perhaps even ex-military. Certainly, the moves she'd just demonstrated hadn't come from a lifetime selling bric-a-brac.
Excusing himself for a few moments, Robin quickly cuffed all of the hoodlums together, putting the last open cuff around a heavy steel fence. Then he contacted the police dispatcher and advised them that he had another pick-up. Told that they would be there in a few minutes, he passed that information along to the woman, who had been examining the broken lock on her back door.
"Do me a favor, would you?" she asked as she decided that the lock was a lost cause and would have to be replaced, "When the police arrive, leave my name out of the report. It would be more trouble than it's worth if they started asking me a lot of unwanted questions."
Without waiting for an answer, the woman then went back into the store.
Robin wondered what those unwanted questions might have been, but saw no reason not to honor the strange request. Whatever her reason for wanting to avoid questions from the police, it was her own business.
The "paddy wagon" arrived a few minutes later and as the gang members were herded inside, none seemed inclined to contest Robin's version of events. He really hadn't thought any of them would. It was one thing to be taken down by one of those "costume freaks", as they sometimes referred to Batman and himself, it was another all together to have been done in by some old lady. That was hardly the kind of story that was going to enhance their street cred.
-=-=-=-
Once the police had collected their new charges, Robin found himself again alone in the alley. He decided to make sure that the woman was indeed as fine as she had said before taking off. Knocking first on the no longer locked door, Robin opened it and stepped inside, calling out to announce his presence as he did so.
The store owner responded from down the hall, saying that she was in the office and that he should come on back.
Robin did so and, as he walked down the passageway, he glanced right and left at the collection of photographs that lined the walls. Most were taken a long time ago, but still recognizable as the neighborhood around them. One in particular caught his notice, as it was the front of the store on the day it opened, the cars parked in front dating the picture as having been taken in the mid-1950s. Obviously the shop was older than Robin had originally thought. He wondered if it was a family business, opened by the woman's parents, or perhaps even her grandparents, or if it was something she took over somewhere along the way.
"The police are all gone," he said as he reached the office, "and I just wanted to make sure that you were okay before I took off."
"That was very nice of you," the woman said as she got up from behind the desk, "but I'm fine, really. The day hasn't come yet that I can't handle a few young punks like that."
As she had gotten up, Robin noticed an open bottle of whiskey on the desk, along with a full shot glass. The woman followed his gaze and once she was fully erect picked up the glass and drained it in one swallow, offering Robin a shot as she refilled her own. It was an offer he declined.
"Back in my day, losers like that wouldn't have lasted a week in this neighborhood," she said as she drained the second glass in similar fashion. "The people who lived here wouldn't have stood for it."
If she was an example of what those people were like, Robin had no doubt that was true. She picked up the bottle and looked about to pour herself a third drink, but then seemed to think better of it and instead put the cover back on the bottle.
Not wanting to stare, Robin let his eyes wander around the room, the walls of which were also covered with old photographs. Unlike those in the outer hall, these were of people, both individuals and small groups, rather than neighborhood scenes. But, as with the others, the backgrounds and style of dress dated them as well.
