Behind the Mask

Chapter 10

“No!” The girl cried indignantly. “I’m not!”

“Then what are you doing?”

The girl glared at him, her blue eyes flashing. Robin did a double take. Her blue eyes…. He shot a glance at the back of the girls head and saw red hair sticking out of her make-shift cowl. He studied her lithe, yet muscular build beneath the baggy tunic. There was no doubt about it, with the courage she was displaying talking to the Robin: Barbara Gordon.

“I’m trying to protect the Commissioner.” Barbara spat out, though with less indignation and a little more defense and possibly more fear than before.

Protecting the Commissioner. Of course Barbara would want to protect her dad, after what happened to her other parent; Robin knew the feeling. No doubt she was out for vengeance as well.

“Don’t worry,” Robin said, gentler this time. “We got it covered.”

“Hardly.” Um, come again?

“What, don’t trust us? Me and the Bat have been protecting this city for years, we can handle this.”

“I don’t want to take any chances.” Barbara replied, uncrossing her arms, reaching into her belt and pulling out some sort of culinary-looking knife.

“Listen,” Robin began, not liking where this was going. “It’s dangerous out here. You’re young, untrained and will likely get hurt. Go home and leave this to us. We’ll protect the Commish, promise.”

“Great, and I’ll help.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No, you-” Robin sighed, fingering his gauntlet computer. Stubborn as stubborn can be. “This isn’t a game.” He told her, as much seriousness imbued in his voice as he could get. “We’re not playing dress up. Go home or I’ll have to call the cops.”

“Why?” Barbara demanded, knife in hand.

“Wha-?” Robin asked, momentarily taken off-guard.

“Why do I have to go home and you get to go crusading around Gotham in tights?”

“They’re not tights.” Robin grumbled. “And I’m trained, I’m prepared, I’ve been doing this for four years. You: you’re alone, unprepared and armed with kitchen knives.”

Barbara’s scowl deepened and she raised said kitchen knife in what Robin assumed was supposed to be a threatening position. The only that would feel threatened by it would be a lobster. If she was lucky.

“I’m trained!” She argued. “I have years of martial arts experience and I’m training for the Olympics in gymnastics.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“I train every night, doing exactly what I see you do.” So that’s what she was doing at Gotham Academy the night of the Amazo mission.

“Okay,” Robin told her. “I’ll rephrase that: you’re not trained by Batman.”

“Then I’ll get him to train me.”

“Good luck with that.” Robin laughed as he turned and started walking away, hoping she would just leave and go home. He honestly couldn’t understand why Barbara had taken a sudden liking to heroing, or why she seemed so persistent in continuing it. He didn’t want her anywhere near any of the stuff he dealt with.