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Robin is nowhere in sight. He must be...preoccupied. Maybe he fell asleep in a giant bird nest somewhere.
Are there any other sidekicks available right now? Maybe...Batgirl.
Or another Robin. There are several Robin positions open.
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Ohhh, the evolution of the letter V!
Seems like you might’ve underestimated me if you didn’t think I could figure it out in the time it took you to build this!
@ancient-wise-dragon
@ancient-wise-dragon
KNOCK. KNOCK.
It's Batman. I have deduced that the Riddler is up to no good in Beijing as well.
Do you know anything?
@ask-hws-england
Robin, I want your assistance with three criminals at Veronica Vreeland's party tonight. I can handle them physically by myself, obviously. Don't doubt me. But time is of the essence, and the sooner we catch them, the less harm they'll cause.
Right now the Penguin is sending dozens of small yellow chicks to attack innocent party goers so he can steal priceless paintings.
Catwoman is using the opportunity to snatch more jewels to fund her cat's lavishly hedonistic lifestyle.
And Mr. Freeze has encased half the building in ice.
Just as I'm about to catch Catwoman, there's a crash below the building. I see the Penguin run inside. It seems the extravagant party attracted him, too.
I jump down onto the balcony and notice the temperature has drastically fallen. It's like a Russian winter out here, which makes sense when I see the tall man standing in the distance.
"Mr. Freeze," I mutter.
With three criminals running around, it'll be efficient to call for backup. I decide to contact Robin.
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There's a fancy party today. Many rich socialites will be there, and they'll want to chat with me.
I have to make sure I smile...act friendly...flirt a little. I have to keep up the image everyone expects. I can't let them find out I'm not just there to mingle, I have a secret job to do.
They can't know what I'm looking for. Or rather...who I'm looking for. She left me a tip she'd be here. It's all part of her little game of cat and mouse. Or rather...cat and bat.
I weave through the crowds and exit the building through a back door, slipping into the darkness.
I change into my alter ego. Super. Cool.
Using my grappling hook, I fly to the roof and find her waiting there. A small black feline rubs against her legs.
"Stop this," I speak in a rough and gravelly way, "stop dragging your cat into a life of crime."
"No," she says, "I'm going to use these valuables to buy the most expensive cat playground I can find."
As a cat lover, myself, I find her argument very convincing. She would probably put the valuables to better use than those she stole from – but as I said in a previous data entry, I try not to let personal biases get in the way of vigilante work.
"If you return the valuables, I'll donate money to your cat," I offer. It's no big deal. I donate money to charity all the time.
Tragically, she doesn't listen to me in my total hero voice and instead attacks with her cat o' nine tails. She likes the hunt too much to accept generosity.
The all-too-familiar thief is no longer in sight, but that doesn't mean she's gone.
I look all around and notice her on the ceiling, just before she crawls into one of the vents.
Then she turns around and winks at me.
How did she turn around in a vent, you ask?
She's very flexible. Just as her name, Catwoman, would imply.
