The LEGO Batman Movie Junior Novel Page 5

  “Well, he’s here now,” Alfred said, a sly smirk playing with the corners of his mouth.

  “Hello, table!” Dick said with enthusiasm.

  “And I must say I’ve grown rather fond of the young lad,” Alfred added.

  “Hello, secret camera!” Dick waved at the camera.

  “You should get to know him,” suggested Alfred.

  “Yeah, I’ve got time for that,” Batman replied in a flat tone.

  “You do?”

  “I’m being sarcastic again,” Batman insisted.

  “But you and he have a lot in common,” Alfred said.

  “Hello, family photos,” the boy said, standing in front of the photo gallery.

  “He lost his parents at a very young age,” Alfred explained.

  Batman watched the boy as he stared at the wall of Wayne family photos.

  “I’ve always wanted one of these,” Dick’s voice turned suddenly serious.

  “Two people don’t need to be related to share the unmistakable bond between father and son,” Alfred said seriously. “Am I right, Batman?”

  Batman studied Dick closely. “Alfred?” he said at last.

  “Yes, sir?” Alfred replied hopefully.

  “You’ve been watching too many made-for-TV movies,” he said.

  “Oh,” said Alfred. He tried to hide his disappointment.

  “Whatever you’re trying to do here, it’s very cute,” Batman went on.

  “Thank you, sir,” Alfred replied.

  “But I’m the boss, and you’re the butler, so I’m going to go fight crime while you put the kid on the next jet back to the orphanage.”

  “As you wish, sir,” said Alfred. He turned away, then stopped and pulled out his duster. “Whoops-a-daisy,” he said, “accidentally” brushing against a lever.

  Clink! The door to the Batcave slid open.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Bruce asked, horrified.

  “Dusting,” Alfred said innocently.

  “You can’t let him into the Batcave!” Batman protested.

  “I’m not,” his trusted butler replied. “I’m letting him into your life.”

  Dick Grayson was a curious lad. Since he was already busy exploring Wayne Manor’s extensive library, it didn’t take him long to discover the secret entrance to the Batcave. Who wouldn’t want to slide down one of those fabulous poles like a fireman? “Ohhhhh!” he yelled as he zipped down. “Wheeeeee!”

  But when he landed, he found himself someplace far cooler than a fire station. He was in a dark cavern. He gasped as he stepped through the massive door. “WHAT?!? IT’S THE BATCAVE?!” he cried.

  Dick stepped in reverently, looking around in disbelief.

  “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Dick cried. Then he noticed all the amazing vehicles that could only belong to one person … er, Super Hero.

  “EEAAHHHGGGHHHH!!!” Dick wailed when he realized where he was. He was so busy taking in all the fabulous stuff that he wasn’t watching where he was going. That’s how he walked straight into Batman.

  “Uhhh! Batman? Whoa!”

  “You’re darn right, whoa,” Batman replied.

  “Wait. Does Batman live in Bruce Wayne’s basement?” Dick asked, trying to piece it together.

  “No, Bruce Wayne lives in Batman’s attic,” the Caped Crusader replied.

  A huge smile spread across the newly adopted kid’s face. “We can have sleepovers every night!”

  “No, we can’t,” Batman insisted.

  “Wow, look it’s the Bat-Sub!” Dick announced, pointing.

  “Wait, don’t touch that,” Batman ordered.

  “And over there, it’s the Bat Space Shuttle!”

  “Please keep your hands off that,” the Super Hero advised.

  “Oh!” Dick looked up. “It’s the Bat Zeppelin.”

  “Don’t touch that, either.”

  “It’s the Bat-Train!”

  “No.”

  “It’s the Bat Kayak!”

  “No.”

  “It’s the Bat Dune Buggy!”

  “No.”

  “It’s the Bat—Shark Repellent?”

  “Uh, actually, you can touch that,” Batman relented. “It’s completely useless.”

  “Whoa, thanks, Batman!” Dick picked it up and tenderly examined the spray bottle.

  Alfred quietly approached with his broom. He whistled as he worked, looking quite content.

  Batman considered the kid’s position, a little too close to Computer’s terminal. “Now just stand over there, and don’t touch, look, or do anything for the remaining moments you have in my presence,” he directed.

  “Okay, cool,” replied Dick.

  As soon as Dick was out of the way, Batman rushed to the terminal.

  “Computer!” he called out.

  “Go ahead,” stated Computer.

  “How do I put the Joker in the Phantom Zone?” Batman requested.

  “The Joker can only be put in the Phantom Zone using the Phantom Zone Projector,” said Computer. “Current location of the Phantom Zone Projector is at Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. It is located deep inside the Atomic Cauldron. However, my analysis indicates only an object with a seven-centimeter circumference can enter the cauldron.”

  Batman measured out seven centimeters with his hands. It was very small. “I can’t fit in there with these shoulders. I’m way too buff.”

  “Sad but true,” Computer replied.

  “That’s my cross to bear,” said Batman.

  “Additionally, once inside the cauldron, multiple Kryptonian defense systems will engage. Chance of total mission failure is one hundred and ten percent.”

  “Those are not great odds,” Batman admitted. He thought for a moment, hoping for an answer. For no apparent reason, a vision of Dick Grayson sliding down the Wayne Manor bannister flashed through his head.

  “Wait a minute. Hey, kid!” he yelled to his newly adopted son.

  “Yes, sir?” Dick responded, his voice full of hope.

  “You’re nimble, right?” Batman said.

  “I sure am!” Dick replied.

  “… and small?” Batman asked.

  “Very!”

  “… and quiet?”

  “When I desire to be,” Dick whispered, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

  “And one hundred ten percent expendable,” Batman added under his breath.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Dick confessed. “But okay!”

  Batman turned and led Dick out of the main room of the Batcave. “Great. Follow me.”

  Batman turned on his heel and led Dick away from Computer and into his costume room.

  “Cool!” Dick said.

  “Preparing mission gear,” Computer stated.

  “Wow, look at all these,” Dick said, eyeing the endless number of Batsuits. He touched the sleeve of one before moving on to the next. And he watched as Batman suited up for the mission.

  “Do I get a costume for the mission, too?” Dick asked.

  “I got a feeling you’ll just look like a kid on Halloween,” Batman said, dismissing the idea. “Don’t you think?” His costumes were all designed for a full-grown man.

  Without asking, Dick turned on the electronic costume rack.

  “Don’t touch that!” Batman said.

  But it was too late. The costumes were whirling by, each more elaborate than the last.

  “Woo-hoo!” Dick yelped with joy. He had never seen so many shades of black, gray, slate, shale, granite, charcoal, navy, midnight, silver, and platinum in his life.

  Computer announced each outfit as it passed: “The Mariachi.”

  “I like that one,” said Dick.

  “No, that’s mine,” Batman claimed.

  “Clawed Rain,” said Computer.

  “Okay, that one?” suggested Dick.

  “No way,” said Batman.

  “This one?” Dic
k asked as another costume circled past.

  Batman shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Anger Blade,” Computer said. “Bubonic Boy.”

  Batman said no to them all.

  “How’s this?” Dick asked. “How do we feel about this one?”

  Batman frowned. “Dress-up parties are for grown-ups only,” he said.

  “Wait, what’s that one there?” Dick pointed excitedly to a yellow, green, and red number. It was very bright compared with many of Batman’s somber suits.

  “Oh, that was for an assignment called the Jamaica Caper,” Batman replied. “The locals called me ‘Reggae Man.’”

  “I love it!” cried Dick, grabbing it off the rack. He fumbled as he tried to change clothing. He searched for the zipper and struggled with the buckle.

  But when Dick looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but admire himself. “Oh, it feels like I was poured into this,” he said, running his hand along the smooth fabric. “My only trouble is … these pants are just a little tight. I don’t know if I could throw a kick or jump in them. I’ve got an idea …”

  He reached down and ripped the legs right off the pants, making the uniform into shorts—really short shorts.

  “That’s better,” Dick announced, shaking his hips. “Now I’m free, now I’m moving, come on Batman, let’s get groovin’!” He did a few dance steps and kicked his heels in the air.

  Batman glared back at him. “I can only look you in the eyes right now,” he said, embarrassed.

  Alfred walked in, still holding on to his duster. He looked at Batman and Dick with a combination of concern and confusion.

  “Uh, sir, what are you doing?” he questioned.

  “What do you mean?” Batman replied innocently.

  “Why is Master Dick dressed like that?” the butler wondered.

  “How dare you tell me how to parent my kid whom I just met!” Batman pretended to be offended, but he was just buying time. “To the Batmobile!”

  “Hot diggity dog!” Dick exclaimed, scampering behind the Caped Crusader.

  Computer responded at once. “Vehicle rotisserie engaged. Retrieving the Batmobile.”

  Batman jumped in behind the wheel.

  “Atomic battery to power. Turbines to speed,” announced Computer.

  “Hey, kid, let’s go,” Batman said, glancing at Dick.

  “Aw, shoot,” the kid said, looking down at his feet.

  “What?”

  Dick’s forehead wrinkled with worry. “I probably shouldn’t leave until I get the thumbs-up from my new old man, Bruce Wayne,” Dick explained.

  “Uh, yeah,” Batman responded, thinking quickly. “Well, here’s the thing: Bruno and I decided to share custody of you. So I get a say, and you’re mission approved.” He gave Dick a thumbs-up and a big smile.

  “No way!” Dick couldn’t believe his good luck. “Is this really happening?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Woo-hoo! A month ago I had no dads, then I had one dad, now I have two dads, and one of them is Batman!” Dick exclaimed.

  “So, are you ready to follow Batman and learn a few life lessons along the way?” Batman asked.

  “I sure am, Dad Two! But first, where’s the seat belt?” Dick searched the crease of the seat, looking for a buckle.

  “The first lesson,” Batman replied, “is that life doesn’t give you seat belts. LET’S GO!”

  Batman pressed on the gas pedal, and the Batmobile surged forward.

  As they exited the Batcave, an old lady walked directly in front of them, and Batman slammed on the brakes.

  The Batmobile jolted to a stop, and Dick flew headfirst into the windshield with a slam. OOF!

  “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry!” Batman stammered. He reached over and lifted Dick by the armpits. “Get back up in that seat. There you go.” He gave Dick a little pat on the head as he tried to determine if the boy was seriously injured.

  Dick was still in pain and shock, but he didn’t want it to show. He wanted to seem tough for his new dad.

  “Hey, listen, as soon as I get back to the Batcave, I’ll make sure Alfred puts seat belts on there. But for the time being, I’m just gonna put my arm right here.” Batman reached his arm out in front of Dick, acting like a human barrier.

  Dick forced a smile and nodded.

  “And now, we’re going to gently ease out of here … and so here we go … real gentle-like,” Batman explained.

  In what seemed like slow motion, The Speed-wagon gracefully transformed into the Batwing and eventually picked up speed before jetting off toward Superman’s famous escape, the Fortress of Solitude.

  Half an hour later, Batman landed the Batwing on an icy patch just outside of the Fortress of Solitude.

  Dick could hardly believe they were outside the Man of Steel’s secret hideout. It didn’t look very much like a house—more like giant, diagonal slabs made out of icicles. Dick shivered.

  Batman turned to his newly adopted son. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he began. “Like all Super Heroes, Superman has zero friends, and he spends most of his time basking in sweet, sweet isolation here at his ‘alone palace.’”

  One of the only things Batman admired about Superman was the fact that he had a getaway for being by himself, and he didn’t try to hide it. Superman had actually used the word solitude in the name of his place. Impressive.

  “So,” Batman continued, “I’ll keep Superman busy while you sneak into that vent and get the projector.” He pointed to a very narrow vent that was about half the size of a dog door—not even big enough for a Jack Russell terrier—barely big enough for a well-fed Chihuahua. “Got it?”

  “Copy that!” Dick agreed, but then a thought occurred to him. “Oh, here’s an idea! I could also go—”

  “Don’t even finish that thought,” Batman said, shaking his head. “See this counter?” He pointed to a fancy watch on his wrist. He clicked a button until the screen said:

  BATMAN: 5,678,483

  EVERYONE ELSE: 0

  “These are all the good ideas Batman has had, and this is everyone else,” he explained. “No one else ever has any good ideas, so don’t even try. Your superpower …” Batman paused for effect and checked to make sure Dick was listening. He was. “Your superpower is excellent listening skills and execution of my ideas. Let’s try it out.”

  “You got it, Dad,” Dick said cheerfully.

  “And don’t call me ‘dad,’” said Batman. “Now, begin mission!”

  “Yes, Papa,” Dick replied.

  Batman scowled. “Papa falls into the ‘dad’ category,” he said disapprovingly. He turned away, his black cape rippling in the frigid breeze.

  Batman approached the entrance to the Fortress of Solitude without looking back. When he got to the oversize door, he rang the doorbell. Ding-dong.

  The door opened a crack, and Superman peeked out.

  “Supes!” Batman greeted him.

  “Batman?” Superman said in surprise. “What are you doing here?

  “Don’t worry about it, dog,” Batman said. “I’m not here to throw down or anything.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out when you rang the doorbell,” Superman pointed to the doorbell button. “Besides, I could crush you if you did.”

  Batman chuckled. “Yeah, sure, yeah … okay.” Sometimes, Superman’s sense of humor wasn’t all that funny, but Batman was on a mission, so he had to go with it. “Listen, thank me later, but I just happened to be in the ’hood, and I figured that you could probably use the—”

  Batman gave the door a little shove. He wasn’t exactly inviting himself in, but Superman obviously was not getting the hint.

  But as soon as the door swung open, Batman realized that Superman was not alone. He was throwing a raging party, and just about the entire Justice League was there: Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, and more.

  They were all rockin’ to the hip musical stylings of an awesome DJ. It was awkward f
or Batman to see the members of the Justice League dancing in their Super Hero uniforms. Had they no dignity?

  But a better question was: Why were they all there? And the best question was: Why wasn’t Batman on the guest list?

  The music suddenly stopped, and everyone at the party turned to look at Batman—even the ultracool musical guest.

  “—company,” Batman finally completed his sentence.

  No one said anything. Someone coughed, and the sound seemed to echo through the expansive entrance hall.

  Batman’s heart pounded in his throat. He could face evil villains in epic battles without raising his pulse, but just then he felt a layer of sweat break out on his upper lip.

  “Wait a minute, what … ?” Batman took in the scene. These were his colleagues. Everyone there was in the good fight against the bad guys. “Are you having the …”

  Batman had just caught sight of a big banner stretching from one side of the room to the other; it read 57TH ANNUAL JUSTICE LEAGUE ANNIVERSARY PARTY!

  “… the 57th Annual Justice League party … without me?”

  More silence.

  Now two people coughed.

  The crowd of Super Heroes shook their heads.

  “No,” said Martian Manhunter.

  “What?” said The Flash.

  “Uh-uh,” said Wonder Woman.

  “No, dude,” Superman spoke up, but his tone was unconvincing. “You were totally invited. Right, guys?”

  “Oh yes,” came a couple of weak voices from the crowd.

  “Are you really doing this party without me?” he asked, looking first at Superman and then scanning the faces of the large crowd.

  “No!” came several half-hearted denials. “We wouldn’t do that!”

  “You didn’t get the invite?” Superman mumbled. “I guess there must have been some mistake with the email.”

  “Pretty sure you were cc’ed,” said Aquaman. But Batman knew that Computer would have told him if he’d been invited to a big party like this.

  “Yeah, check your spam folder, man,” cried Gleek.

  “Good point, Gleek,” said Superman, putting his arm around Batman. “Well, I guess we can officially agree that clears that up! So enjoy the party, bro! Hit it, DJ Cyborg!”