Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and William Dozier, and various publishers including, but not limited to, DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment, Time Warner, ABC, 20thCentury Fox, and Greenway Productions. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's note: This picks up about a week after the end of the first story and the Joker remains on the loose.

This story is dedicated in loving memory
to the man who always was and always will be
my one and only Batman
Adam West
September 19, 1928 ~ June 9, 2017
Thank you for the Bat-memories

On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin
Chapter 1 – The Joker's Playing Card

As the afternoon dawns warm and sunny in the fair city of Gotham, something strange is afoot at a quaint used bookstore called Yesterday's Imaginings…

When the tiny silver bell above the door jingled quietly, no one in the shop looked up. They were all too engrossed in their browsing and reading to notice the sound that signified another customer was joining them. That, however, changed when a maniacal laugh broke the peaceful quiet.

"It's the Joker!" a woman in a large hat yelled, dropping the book she was looking at with a loud thump. She brought her hands up to her cheeks in fear.

Several of the other customers screamed in horror at the loudly-dressed, white-faced villain who had just crossed the threshold into the store.

"Oh," the Joker replied, sounding slightly disappointed, "but I haven't even done anything wrong yet." He laughed again before adding, "Surely just walking into a store isn't a criminal offense!"

"What do you want, Joker?" the man behind the counter asked defensively, appearing to be ready to spring into action and protect his patrons if need be.

"I may simply be here to purchase some used books like the rest of you fine people," the Joker said, his painted-on smile curving even more around his pale face.

"I can't imagine a criminal like yourself doing anything as honest as buying books," another customer interjected. "Wouldn't you steal them instead?"

"Oh," the Joker said sadly, "do give me some credit. Don't worry, I'm not here to steal any of your precious books. Certainly not any of these old and dusty things you have lying around." The Joker made his way over to a shelf of rather dingy-looking books and ran one of his gloved fingers over them. When he pulled his finger up to his face, he stared at it in a disgusted manner. He rubbed his thumb against his dusty finger and muttered, "Ew. Quite the contrary, in fact. I have much bigger fish to fry at the moment. Yes."

"Then I suggest you get to it and get out," the shopkeeper said, thrusting his chin in the direction of the door. He crossed his arms over his chest and added, "We don't need any of your kind of riffraff disrupting my customers."

"I just want you to remember that I was here," the Joker said, followed by a slightly deranged laugh. He took several jaunty steps across the shop, approaching the counter.

The shopkeeper took a small step backwards, tensing himself and preparing to fight off the arch villain in front of him if necessary.

"Come now," the Joker replied. "I mean you no harm and I'm a man of my word."

"Tell that to Warden Crichton," another one of the customers sneered, "the man who let you out of prison, thinking you'd gone straight."

"Now, for all you know," the Joker said, "I have gone straight. Let's not jump to conclusions. How are criminals in this city ever supposed to right their wrongs if no one wants to give them a fair chance?"

"Yes, let's not jump to conclusions," the store owner mumbled sarcastically. Turning his attention back to the Joker, he added, "You want me to remember that you were here? Done. Now you can leave."

"Just one more thing," the Joker said, holding up an index finger to emphasize his words. "I want you to be sure to tell Batman that I was here as well when he comes around to ask about me, because you know as well as I do that he will be here. A little too late, mind, but he will come. But just as a reminder-" The Joker suddenly stopped, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.

This caused the shop owner to jump in fear, but the Joker had simply withdrawn an ordinary playing card from his pocket. He laid it face-up on the counter before the shopkeeper, pushing it towards the other man with a single finger. When the store clerk glanced down at it, he saw a slightly maniacal and gaudily-colored drawing of a jester staring up at him. The word "JOKER" was printed in black ink across the top of the card, just like one would find in an ordinary deck of playing cards.

"You'll be sure to remember now, won't you?" the Joker asked, breaking into a laugh once more. "That's all I want, my dear man." Turning around to face the rest of the shop, he added, "You may continue with your shopping now, ladies and gentlemen. My business here is done."

Cackling again, the Joker pranced out of the shop, oblivious to the looks of confusion and disbelief on the faces of the citizens behind him.

Meanwhile, deep below stately Wayne Manor, home of millionaire Bruce Wayne and his youthful ward, Dick Grayson…

Dick, clad in his favorite grey sweat suit, adjusted the bright red boxing gloves on his hands. He steadied himself on his feet before he began pummeling his fists against the tan-colored focus mitts that Batman was holding up.

"Turn your whole body into the punch," Batman instructed, continuing to brace himself against Dick's punches. "That will make them more powerful. You're light on your feet. That'll help you. Try and use that to your advantage."

Dick adjusted himself, trying to keep all of Bruce's instructions in mind. He began hopping around more with each punch he threw.

"You're too tense," Batman pointed out. "Relax, calm down, and breathe. You're expelling too much energy by being so anxious."

Dick sucked in a breath and stepped back from Bruce. Lowering his hands to his sides, he hung his head. "I'm sorry. I should know these things. I do know these things. This is basic stuff. I just feel so out of practice." Dick stopped, swiveling his head around to try and alleviate some of the tension he was feeling. "When everything happened with the Riddler and his henchmen, I was running on adrenaline. I didn't have time to think about what I was doing or what position my body was in. I just acted and it came so naturally. Now I'm thinking too much about what I need to do and..." Dick took a moment to think about his next words and he opened his mouth to speak, but then changed his mind. He closed his mouth tightly.

Batman turned to pulling off his focus mitts, watching Dick closely. When he set the focus mitts down on the desk next to him, he stepped behind Dick. Placing his gloved hands on top of Dick's shoulders, he began massaging them.

"What?" Batman finally asked after nearly a minute. "You were going to say something else. What was it?"

Dick glanced back over his shoulder at Batman, their eyes meeting for a very long time. A moment later, Dick started pulling his boxing gloves off before setting them next to the focus mitts on the desk.

"I'm better than this," Dick said miserably, staring down at the hard, concrete floor of the Batcave. "Even now, with feeling so out of practice, I know I am."

Batman hummed in agreement. "I was there, remember? When you were fighting the Riddler, I saw how well and how hard you must have been trained. Even if you were out of practice, it was shining through. Maybe not an expert, but you are talented. That much was clear."

"Therein lays the problem," Dick said, before slowly inhaling and exhaling a large breath.

Batman didn't push him to go on, but instead continued to massage Dick's shoulders until the young boy was ready to speak.

"It just…" Dick began quietly, "it reminds me too much of my father. He was the one who got me interested in martial arts to begin with. All of this just reminds me so much of him, of the sparring matches we used to have…" Dick trailed off, sucking in a sharp breath that was punctuated by a sob. "I don't know. I don't know why it's getting to me so much."

A moment of silence fell between them, during which Batman dropped his hands from Dick's shoulders. It was Batman's turn to let out a heavy sigh before coming around to Dick's side. He gripped one of Dick's shoulders again and began guiding him over to the chairs that were sitting on the far side of the desk.

"Let's sit for a minute," Batman said, directing Dick to one of the chairs. After his young ward had taken his seat, Batman took the other one, scooting it across the floor until he was mere feet away from Dick.

Dick didn't say anything, but the slight redness and moisture in his eyes were very apparent. He wiped at his eyes in frustration.

"I know," Batman said after a long pause. "You never quite know what will bring up those memories. You'll go along all day, thinking you're fine, and then out of nowhere, it'll just hit you."

"It's been well over a year," Dick said, still wiping at his eyes. "Shouldn't that be enough time?" He sounded frustrated.

In a way, Bruce felt guilty for this. At first, he hadn't quite been so keen on training Dick to fight. More and more, however, he had come to see that perhaps it was a good thing for him. He liked seeing Dick so excited about something, especially something that the two of them could do together. Bruce had also come to realize that perhaps Dick would feel safer if he knew how to better defend himself. Hopefully, nothing like Dick's run-in with the Riddler would ever happen again, but if it did, at least Dick might be better equipped to deal with it. That, however, brought up a new swell of issues that Batman supposed he should have seen coming.

"Dick," Batman said. He reached out for his young ward's shoulders, gripping them tightly. He leaned in close before he said, "If I've learned anything in my own loss, it's that there is no time limit on healing. At all. Do you hear me? No matter how much time has passed, it can still hurt terribly. Nothing about this makes you weak, okay?"

"So it never gets better?" Dick asked, sounding a bit miserable and maybe even a little bit panicked.

"That's not what I said," Batman corrected. He leaned in even closer to Dick until their faces were only mere inches apart. "It does get better. Every single day. I promise you it does. But sadly…there will still always be a large piece of me missing. The part of me that misses my parents. And it hurts. I know it does. Even when I think I'm doing okay, something may happen to remind me of them and drive home the fact that they're not with me anymore. But then it passes, and…you move on. But it's a daily struggle for me. It is. One that gets easier over time, but one that never quite goes away."

A few tears had escaped the bottoms of Dick's eyelids to slide down his cheeks. Bruce used his thumbs to wipe them away.

"It's okay to still be sad," Batman said firmly. "It's okay now and it'll still be okay when you're my age. Or when you're Alfred's age. Or Aunt Harriet's age."

This brought the tiniest smile to Dick's lips and he let out a small breath of laughter.

"I want you to promise me," Batman told him, "that you'll never think you're weak for missing them or wanting to cry about it. Nothing about that makes you weak at all. Just human. Like I said, I still miss my parents every single day. Would you think that makes me weak?"

Dick shook his head harshly. "You're not weak. You're the strongest person I know."

"And you're not weak either," Batman replied. "Every single day since I've met you, I marvel at how strong you are. How much of a fighter you are. I've never thought otherwise and I never will. Even after everything happened with your parents, and then the Riddler, you didn't let any of that stop you. You kept right on going, and you have no idea how much of myself I see in you because of that. You're strong just like I am. Being sad and crying doesn't make it otherwise. Okay?"

Dick swallowed audibly and nodded before reaching up to wipe away the tears stains on his cheeks.

"And it does get easier," Batman went on. "It won't always hurt quite this much. It won't always be this painful to do things that remind you of them. Please don't ever think that. Just look at how far you've come since it happened. I seem to remember you telling me that you struggled to even get out of bed some days."

"I did," Dick admitted, nodding, "but it hasn't been that way for a long time. At least, not since I came here and we started getting closer. Then I became so invested in spending more time with you, spending the day in bed was the furthest thought from my mind. And…I don't know," Dick added before trailing off. He frowned in thought and said, "Even when you're busy and I'm here by myself, you're so much of an inspiration to me. I just think about how much you do for everyone else and I never even think about wanting to spend the day in bed anymore. There's so much we can do. So much we do to better ourselves and the world. Life's entirely too short to waste it."

"Something you never would have said just after it happened," Batman said, "is it?"

"No," Dick replied, and his voice was softer now, more content. He took a slow deep breath before continuing on. "You're right. It does get easier. It is getting easier. And I have you to thank for that." He glanced up at Batman, his eyes wide and his smile growing larger.

Batman opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, he was interrupted by the loud beeping of the Batphone. Bruce's mouth snapped shut and his eyes immediately closed in regret under his mask, signaling his guilt that something was once again getting in the way of his relationship with Dick.

"Answer it," Dick told him. More and more, he was coming to understand just how important Bruce's role as Batman was, not just to him but to all the citizens of Gotham City. Dick always thought about how many countless people Batman must have saved over the years, Dick included. Dick couldn't imagine how horrible he would feel if something happened that Batman could have prevented, and Dick would never stand in the way of that.

When Batman still didn't move from his spot, Dick added, "Someone needs you."

Batman squeezed one of Dick's shoulders tightly in response. Without another word, Batman quickly got up from his seat, his deep blue cape swirling out behind him, and made his way over to the phone.

"Yes, Commissioner?"

"It seems as if the Joker has struck again," came Commissioner Gordon's voice from the other end of the line.

"I knew he was going to," Batman replied. "What's he done now?"

"The exact same thing as before," the Commissioner explained in confusion. "He went into that used bookstore at the corner of Fourth and Elm. He simply told them to remember he was there, left a joker playing card just as he did before, and he left. The patrons and storeowner are just as puzzled over this as we are. It seems so innocuous."

"You and I both know there's nothing innocuous about the Joker!" Batman exclaimed. "He wouldn't do something like this just for the fun of confusing us. I know he's planning something much larger and far more sinister. But what?"

"I wish I knew, Batman."

Batman expelled a heavy breath. "As do I. I'll be there momentarily."

When Batman replaced the phone receiver in its cradle, he slowly turned around to face Dick.

"The Joker again?" Dick asked curiously.

"Yes," Batman replied, "with the exact same M.O. as before."

"Batman?" Dick asked. "Can you please not use that expression?" He made a face and shuddered visibly.

"Right," Batman said sheepishly, realizing what Dick was getting at. Not very long ago, just after Dick had figured out his secret identity, M.O. had been the answer to the Riddler's very first riddle that had led them both on a long and twisting journey.

"Sorry," Batman apologized.

"But you mean he just left a playing card at another store again?"

"Precisely." Batman bit at his bottom lip before he added, "I'm sorry to have to end our training session so suddenly-"

"It wasn't even much of a training session," Dick cut him off gently. "It kind of evolved into more of a bonding session. Not that I'm complaining. I like bonding sessions." He found himself smiling up at Bruce again.

"Me too."

"But go," Dick urged him. "I know you're anxious to get to the bottom of this, and I don't blame you. Knowing the Joker is clearly planning something ominous gives me the willies."

Batman slowly approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder again. "I know. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I'm going to get started on my term-paper for English class while you're gone," Dick told him. "I finally figured out what I'm going to write about."

"Animal Farm?" Batman asked with a knowing smile. Ever since his young ward had read George Orwell's book for his English class a few months ago, he'd been going on and on about how it had been his favorite book that they had read the entire year.

"Of course," Dick said. "We're supposed to write about who our favorite character was that we read about this year. I finally narrowed it down to Boxer as my favorite character…because he reminds me of you."

"It's nice to know that a rather dim-witted horse reminds you of me. Thanks," Batman said sarcastically.

Dick snickered. "You know that's not the reason. It's because he's strong, and hard-working, and kind, and he wants to better his mind. And the part that I always remember the most clearly was how he always gave his food to the other animals when he was starving himself. That's what reminds me of you. Because I know you would do the same."

"Without a second thought."

"Because careful, okay?"

"I always am."

Batman gave Dick's shoulder one last squeeze before he took off for the Batmobile. A moment later, the car's tires were squealing as the vehicle roared out of the Batcave. Dick had gotten up from his seat to watch him go, and the oddest feeling erupted inside his stomach. How would it feel to ride in that seat next to Batman? he wondered.

"Master Dick?" came Alfred's voice from behind him, shaking Dick from his thoughts. "Would you like me to bring some cookies and milk into the living room while you work on your paper?"

"Thanks, Alfred," Dick replied, "but I think I'll work on it down here while I wait for Bruce to come back." Dick frowned momentarily before asking, "Is it weird that I take so much comfort in being in a cave of all places?"

"No, sir," Alfred replied, a knowing smile on his face, "because I do too. Why do you think I'm down here so often? And at least this way, I'll know as soon as possible if something happens and Master Bruce needs me to act."

"I know," Dick said. "I know I wouldn't be able to do much if a situation like that did arise, but I think I would like to know just the same."

Dick had no idea exactly how much he would come to dwell on those words in a very short amount of time.

Almost three pages of his term-paper later, Dick jumped nearly a foot in the air when the Batmobile roared back into the Batcave. He had been so engrossed in his paper, the rest of the world might have ceased to exist for Dick. Immediately setting down his pen, Dick stood up from his chair and turned to watch Batman getting out of his vehicle.

"Well?" Dick wasted no time in asking his guardian.

"I'm afraid I'm still no closer to figuring out what the Joker is up to," Batman said around a sigh, approaching Dick. "Exactly the same…actions as before. Exactly the same playing card." Batman reached into his utility belt, withdrawing the Joker's card that had been left at the bookstore. He held it up for Dick to examine.

"I know the last card didn't hold any other clues," Dick said, "but this one could be worth checking on the Chemo-Electric Secret Writing Detector."

"Right," Batman replied, quickly making his way over to the machine in question. He placed the joker card on top of the flashing screen and then held the small pair of binoculars up to his eyes. He took a moment to examine the card while Dick approached silently.

A few moments later, Batman set down the goggles and shook his head miserably. "A part of me rather doubted there would be," Batman said, turning to his young ward. "There aren't any markings or writing on it that appear out of the ordinary. Just an ordinary playing card from an everyday deck."

"The Joker didn't leave anything else behind?" Dick asked as Batman began pacing the floor of the Batcave.

"I'm afraid not," Batman replied, one of his hands going up to his chin in thought. "I went over that bookstore with a fine-toothed comb and I couldn't find anything that might have been from the Joker. It's exactly what happened when he went to that jewelry store last week."

"Could it be something with the locations then?"

Batman stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes in deep thought. A moment later, he crossed the room to the blackboard and wasted no time in picking up a piece of chalk and writing out the names of the stores the Joker had hit so far.

Lucky Jade Jewelry
Yesterday's Imaginings Used Bookstore

"What do these things have in common?" Batman asked, setting down the piece of chalk on its ledge and turning back to Dick.

"They're both businesses," Dick offered sheepishly. "They both offer goods for sale which could be priceless. But the Joker didn't steal anything. That's what gets me. And I don't see what else books and jewelry have in common." After a heavy sigh, he admitted, "Honestly, Batman, this one's got me stumped."

"Me too," Batman agreed. "I keep coming back to my very first idea. Remember what I said last week? That the Joker is very clearly establishing an alibi by being somewhere and telling the people to remember he was there. But nothing else happened in the city during those times. I had Commissioner Gordon and Chief O'Hara go back through the police records for the day the Joker went to the jewelry store. Nothing at all happened to catch my eye. Simply petty crimes and the like. Nothing that might attract the Joker or his cohorts. The Commissioner's going to get back to me on any other crimes that happened this afternoon, but I have a feeling that, too, will prove to be just as fruitless. But I know the Joker's up to something much larger than this!" Batman swung a hand in the air in frustration before resuming his pacing. "He's too tricky of a fiend not to be, despite all of his insistence to the contrary. The citizens at the bookstore said the Joker kept going on about going straight and how he wanted to be given a fair chance. But we both know that's not the case." Batman trailed off, appearing deep in thought.

Dick stared at the words on the chalkboard, as if hoping and praying for them to make any sort of sense to him. To suddenly reveal some sort of pattern, or secret, or riddle they might be hiding. But then something hit him.

"Batman?"

"Hm?" Batman hummed absentmindedly, not turning around.

"I was just thinking," Dick said, "what if it is about the playing cards after all?"

Finally turning to face his young ward again, Batman said, "What do you mean?"

Coming to his guardian's side, Dick said, "What if it was simpler than that? Maybe it has less to do with these stores-" Dick gestured towards the blackboard, "-and more to do with where the playing cards came from." He raised his eyebrows.

Batman narrowed his eyes in thought. "You think it could be that simple?"

"My dad always said, 'the simplest solution is usually correct.'"

The very corner of Batman's lips curled up into a smile. "Yes, a principle of philosophy accredited to William of Ockham. Your dad taught you about philosophy then, did he?"

"No," Dick said around a small laugh. "Philosophy was probably one of his least favorite subjects. He was just big on old axioms. 'A penny saved is a penny earned' and 'haste makes waste.'" Things like that."

"A lot of wisdom can be found in those old sayings."

"But do you think it could be true this time?" Dick asked. "I mean, this is the Joker we're talking about. Is anything ever what it seems with him?"

"Well," Batman asked, "it's worth a try, isn't it? We don't have any other leads right now anyway. What harm could it do to check out? And I know just where to start!" Batman said, snapping his fingers, which made a dull rustling sound through the fabric of his gloves. "The Joker's Wild Card Company has been closed and defunct for years. It's probably not even safe to set foot in, but of course, that's never stopped the criminal element before. You're right – it seems like such an obvious solution now that I say it out loud."

"Just be careful, Batman," Dick pleaded, his expression suddenly turning into one of distress. "I hate the thought of you going to into a place like that, especially one that the Joker might be inhabiting. Who knows what he might have done to it."

"I told you, I always am careful," Batman said around an encouraging smile. "You know I am. I don't take any unnecessary risks. I'll keep my eye out in case the building looks too unsafe to enter and I'll come up with an alternative plan."

Dick took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. And you'll call if you're going to be late?"

"Absolutely," Batman reassured him. "Don't worry. I won't let you wait up all night worrying about me again."

"I know you won't," Dick said, watching as Batman made his way to the Batmobile once again.

Little did Dick know that that was exactly what he would be doing – waiting up all night, worrying about what had become of his guardian.

Good grief, Batfans!
What could the Joker possibly be up to this time?
Is Batman walking into another one of his arch enemy's nefarious traps?
What will Dick do when he doesn't hear from Batman?

For the answers to these and other terrifying questions,
Tune in next time…
Same fan site…
Same fan channel.

For Batman's sake, keep your cards close to your chest until then!