Interested Bystanders
Part 2
“Despite increasing calls and requests, there's still no official reaction or statement from Batman, the Titans or the Justice League regarding Robin's condition after that very public shooting incident four days ago. It's unknown at this time the extent of his injuries or if he's even alive after being shot and then suffering a serious fall. (Talking head cuts to footage under voice over.) Politicians, religious leaders and several parenting groups have all expressed deep concern about the welfare of the minors working with our hero community and there are threats of lawsuits to protect the young people as well as suggestions that minors should be banned from pursuing this career until they're of legal age. Stay tuned to this station...”
Alfred answered the light and unexpected knock at the front door, privately thinking whoever it was could have rung the bell or, perhaps, made an appointment.
“Good morning, Alfred. I apologize for not having called first but is Bruce available?”
“Master Kent, of course, please, do come in, might I offer you something? Coffee? Tea?”
“Thank you, I'm fine but, more to the point, is Dick all right?”
“...Perhaps it might be better if you permitted Master Bruce to address that, if you'd be kind enough to follow me?”
Down in the cave Clark dropped his facade of patience, standing over Bruce as he pretended to ignore his visitor.
“How bad was his injury?” The voice was strong but restrained, much like the man himself.
“He should make a full recovery.” It was said a bit too dismissively.
“You don't mind if I speak with him and see for myself?”
“Do whatever you want.” That was a bit abrupt, even for Batman.
Clark didn't rise to the bait. “You do realize that you've handled this poorly, the media is calling for your blood and it's spilling over to everyone in the business who ever worked with a side-kick. Congress is calling for hearings to begin in two weeks.”
“I got the summons.”
“Have you given any thought as to what you might say?”
“I'm sure I'll think of something.” His eyes still on his monitor screen, Bruce didn't deign to glance at Superman, a dangerous choice as he undoubtedly knew.
“Where is he?” Clark was looking at the cave ceiling, looking through it to the manor above and not finding Dick.
“Titan's Tower, I believe.”
Exasperated but declining to engage in a pointless conversation, Clark simply left. Changing as he moved he arrived at the Tower within seconds, let himself in and found Dick propped up on pillows, resting on a couch in front of a large screen TV. His arm was in a sling, bandages visible above the neck of his tee-shirt and filling out both the left shoulder and sleeve. He knelt beside the boy waking him with an apology.
“Where are your friends?”
Dick looked blearily around, disoriented. “Um...'went out, I think.”
Clark gently put his hand on his forehead, he was feverish, his color bad and (looking through the clothing and bandages) saw that the bullet wound was red and infected. “Has anyone seen this besides Alfred?”
“I'mokay.” His words were slurring a little.
“Do you mind if I see what I can do?”
“Ssuuure.” His eyes drifted closed and he was out again.
Checking the prescription pill bottle on the end table, Clark made a quick calculation; twenty four 500mg pills of penicillin, issued five days ago with instructions to take two a day. There should be fourteen pills left, there were twenty-two. Dick hadn't been taking the antibiotic, the wound was infected and the infection was spreading quickly. There were three small chips from the bone of his shoulder blade that were still imbedded in his shoulder and probably extremely painful. Whether they hadn't shown up on the x-rays or were simply missed, they needed to be addressed. Gently lifting the unconscious boy still wrapped in a blanket, he flew him to Metropolis General, depositing him in the high security and secret Hero's Suite, reserved exclusively for injured JLA, JS, Titan members and whichever meta or super human might be in need.
This medical suite, secret and as secure as the staff could make it, would allow Robin to heal, make sure he received any meds he needed and see that he wasn't disturbed. It was probably where he should have been brought when he was first hurt but that was water under the bridge and pointless to belabor.
“Please be sure to keep me updated on his condition.”
Suzanne, the head nurse was the best of the best and worth every penny she got from the various hero groups to have her exclusive services. “Of course, sir, we have your number. Should we also inform Batman or the Titans?”
Nodding and smiling his thanks, Superman left to catch an airliner that had just lost power over the Amazon.
* * *
“Five days and no word, nothing, not a single statement or comment. This is inexcusable!”
Senator Helmsley was on a roll. Cameras from every major (and quite a few minor) news agencies were in the Capitol's Press room getting their sound bites for the day. This whole thing with Robin's being shot live on camera, falling a couple of stories to a ledge before being swooped away in the arms of his mentor were pure gold. The good Senator, bless his heart, was flogging the story to within an inch of it's life (or Robin's death, if it cake to it) and since Batman and his fiends seemed unwilling to give out any info, would continue for a while. Ratings were up, the news magazines, tabloids, talk shows, legit papers and everyone up to an including your Aunt Betty were following the snow ball with bated breath. The e-mails had been pouring in since this started;
'Poor Robin, just a child and what he's been through!'
'Isn't there anyone who looks after these youngsters? Where on earth are their parents?'
'There should be a law!'
'Damn Liberals!'
'He can't die, he's a space alien like Superman, isn't he?'
“I intend to get to the bottom of this and you can take that to the bank. Batman and his ilk have been running roughshod over our laws for years with their vigilante justice. If they want to fight crime, I say that's laudable but let them do within the confines of the checks and balances every police officer in every jurisdiction has to abide by. I call on my fellow members of this great institution to protect the young people who have, through their idealism and dedicated themselves to stopping the baser elements of our society. Let us vote today for a minimum age for these self-declared upholders of our justice. I propose that no one under the age of twenty-one don the spandex and that, when they do finally reach that age, be required to take and pass the same tests and fulfill the same requirements that any other law enforcement officer must take and pass.”
The bill went through the process in record time, or close to it. Proposed and voted on in five days, it passed the house with a eighty-seven percent approval and passed the senate vote with ninety-five for, three against and two absent.
The president, knowing that to reject this would be political suicide, signed it that afternoon.
With the stroke of a pen all sidekicks were officially unemployed and the Teen Titans were defunct.
* * *
In the Heroes Suite at Met Gen Robin's infection was fighting the antibiotics and, so far, seemed to be winning. The surgeon on staff refused to operate to remove the bone chips until the infection was under control and so they waited while Robin's condition worsened.
The thing about the youngster that bothered Suzanne though, were his nightmares. She realized, of course, that they were likely brought on by the fever but the poor thing was so upset about something, in tears, begging to be given another chance, swearing that he'd do better, that it wasn't his fault, that it wasn't fair—he was Robin and no one could take that away from him.
The poor thing, he was so young no matter what he had on his resume and he'd been dumped here two days ago and not a single person had come by to see him or even call to ask how he was doing. Where were his parents? Where were his friends? Where was Superman and, most of all, where was Batman?
TBC