(Identity Crisis)


	The Dark Knight crept stealthily through the lair of Poison Ivy. 
	Noxious chemicals boiled ominously, bubbling frothily. 
	What heinous plans could the wicked plantwoman have in store for  
these noxious brews? 
	Son of Krypton mumbled something. 
	The Caped Crusader nodded tersely. She must be stopped. 
	Suddenly, Batman felt an iron grip around his chest, and felt 
himself being hurled through the air. He landed in a diabolical trap--a 
huge polymer shackle holding down his legs. 
	"Superman! Quickly!" he cried. 
	The Man of Tomorrow didn't move. 
	"Whoops, forgot somebody!" Poison Ivy announced coquettishly, 
and suddenly, the Man of Steel was smushed into the plastic prison beside  
the Dark Knight. 
	"Mmmm... dastardly poison!" Poison Ivy announced, placing a  
steaming bowl on the ledge of the torture apparatus, and sitting down 
opposite the Bat. 
	Batman clamped his jaw. 
	"Open up, sweetie..." 
	Batman turned his head aside. 
	"I bet Superman likes dastardly poison!" Poison Ivy declared, 
moving the spoon towards the Last Son of Krypton. "Mmm, isn't that 
yummy, Superman?" 
	"Traitor," Batman mumbled. 
	Superman said nothing. 
	"Well, Superman's eaten all his dastardly poison, so he's free to go 
play now," Poison Ivy said, picking up the Man of Steel, and liberating 
him. "Come on, Batman, you *like* dastardly poison!" 
	Batman twitched. The dastardly poison *did* smell an awful lot 
like tomato soup. And Batman DID like tomato soup. 
	He glance down at the floor, where Superman was smiling stupidly  
at him. It wasn't fair. Superman always got all the glory. He got to go fly 
to space and wrestle bears while Batman was stuck guarding Gotham City.  
	And he could eat dastardly poison, because his SuperMetabolism 
would take care of it in a jiff. Especially dastardly poison that smelled like 
tomato soup.  Maybe... just maybe... 
	"If you aren't going to eat it, I guess I'm just going to have to take 
it away. Tim'll be over tonight and he looooves tomato soup. I bet he'd like 
to have it..." 
	"Wait!" 
	Poison I-- Lex Luthor's number one assistant, Mercy, turned, 
raising one eyebrow skeptically. "Ready to try some of our mind control  
potion, Superman?" 
	The Man of Tomorrow grinned. Little did she know that his  
Kryptonian physiology wouldn't be affected by any of Luthor's chemical  
concoctions. He glanced down at Batman, unconscious on the floor. He 
had slipped himself a Bat-tranquilizer, so that he would sleep off the 
effects of the mind control serum. Quite practical of the Dark Knight, but 
it left it up to the Man of Steel to save the day. 
	Superman grinned. "Bring it on." 
 
 
 
Identity Crisis 
by Kerrie Smith 
 
 
	"Hey, Dana," Tim Drake said, giving his stepmother a kiss on the  
cheek as he walked in the door. "You all ready for the dinner party?" 
	"Just about. Bert's up in his room. Thanks so much for coming  
over, and on such last minute notice, too..." 
	"Oh, it's no problem, Dana," Tim waved dismissively. "Cassandra's 
boyfriend is over tonight, and this gave me a nice excuse to leave them 
some privacy." 
	Dana wandered into the kitchen to gather up her things, and Tim  
followed. "I ought to warn you, Bertie's been a little out of sorts today." 
	Tim frowned. "Is he okay?" 
	"He was fine when I picked him up from preschool this morning. 
He was playing with Gator, sneaking around like they do, and then I fed 
him lunch. But after lunch... he just seemed different. He's been puffing 
out his chest all after noon, and has wanted to play airplane almost 
nonstop."  Dana shook her head. "And then I asked him if he wanted to 
play hide-and-seek (he almost always does around three o'clock) but 
wanted to play Memory instead. And, Tim, this is the funniest thing. He 
kept *staring* at those cards like he was convinced if he stared hard 
enough, he'd be able to see straight through them." 
	Tim chuckled. "I'm sure he's fine, Dana." 
	"Well, I'm sure he is, too, but he just hasn't been my little Bertie, 
today, so if you notice anything, please let me know, okay?" 
	"Of course," Tim smiled. "Now, you go on ahead to your party.  
	Bert and I will be fine." 
	"Oh, you always are." She squinted at Tim's hair, and smoothed a 
few pieces down. "It's too bad you aren't ten years younger. I would have 
loved to see you and Bert grow up together." 
	Tim raised an eyebrow. "We would have killed each other." 
	"Probably. Have a good night, Tim." 
	"Good night, Dana. Say hi to Dad for me." 
	Dana hurried out the door, and Tim continued deeper into the 
house, towards the stairs. 
	The door to Bert's room, right next to his own, was slightly open. 
	Bert sat in the middle of his room, surrounded by brightly colored 
wooden blocks, building a small city. All the green blocks were 
sequestered to one side of the room. 
	"Hey, buddy!" Tim greeted. 
	Bert looked up with a sunny smile. "Tim!" He scrambled to his 
feet, and carefully exited his wooden metropolis, then leapt towards his 
big brother. Tim caught him, and pulled him up to look at the little boy 
face to face. 
	"How's my favorite brother?" 
	"Tim!" 
	"What've you got here? Building today?" 
	Bert nodded happily. Tim sat down on the floor, and held Bert in 
his lap. "What do we have here... This is the bank, right?" 
	Tim pointed to where a small hutch had been built over top Bert's 
piggy bank. Bert nodded an affirmation. 
	"And the supermarket?" Tim asked, pointing to a little cube  
crammed with plastic toy foods. 
	Bert nodded again. 
	"Annnnnd... a toy store... and the park..." 
	Bert's cities were pretty predictable. About once a week, he'd get 
the building itch, and up went Gotham. Gotham usually got destroyed 
sometime that evening when Batman had to go fight the Joker and, in his 
own exuberance, would knock over most of the city. Tim glanced at the 
latest addition to Bert Drake's Gotham in Wood--a spindly-looking stack 
of blocks that towered over the rest of the city. 
	Ever since a recent field trip to visit to Tim at work, Wayne 
Towers had found its way into Bert's cityscapes. Tim was just glad Bruce  
had been there... he didn't want to think about what could have happened 
to his little brother alone in the city. 
	"And that one's Wayne Towers, right, bro?" 
	Bert's face screwed up into a tiny knot. "No!" 
	"No?" 
	"This is *Metropolis,* not Gotham!" Bert insisted. 
	Tim blinked. Bert *always* built Gotham. 
	Bert *loved* Gotham. 
	On the rare occasions he was taken into the city, he would press  
his tiny nose against the glass windows of the car, taking in the 
skyscrapers, the people, everything he could spy. 
	Metropolis? 
	"So that's...?" 
	"Lex Luthor's house," Bert explained. 
	Tim racked his brain. There'd been a bomb-threat at LexCorps  
that morning--Superman had showed up and disposed of the bomb, and it 
had been on the news all day. Maybe Bert had seen it and decided that  
Metropolis was the place to be today. 
	"So is Batman visiting Superman in Metropolis today?" Tim asked. 
	Bert crawled out of Tim's lap, and went back to work on his city. 
	"Nope." 
	"No?" Tim asked, a little confused. Bert *always* wanted to play 
Batman. Jack wouldn't allow him to play, which meant that when Tim 
came over, they *always* had an adventure. Tim usually had to be 
Robin... which generally wasn't too hard. But on occasion, he might be 
called on to be the Riddler, the Penguin, or once, when Bert was feeling 
particularly creative, Martian Manhunter. Or rather, "Martin Munter," 
because Bert couldn't say Martian Manhunter. And of course, whenever 
Bert needed a bath, Tim had to be Aquaman. Tim hated giving Bert baths. 
	Gator, of course, always got to be Superman. 
	Speaking of which... 
	"Bert, where's Gator, today?" 
	"Under the bed," Bert replied loftily, carefully starting on a new 
building. 
	"Under the bed? Now, what's he doing down there?" 
	Bert finished the foundation and started on the walls. "Chasin' 
Killer Croc." 
	Tim raised one eyebrow. "Oh, so did you guys switch cities, 
today? He's chasing down Killer Croc while Batman guards Metropolis?" 
	Bert frowned at Tim. "No! Gator has to be Batman, now! I always 
hafta be Batman! I get to be Superman now!" 
	And then went back to work.' 
	"This is Star Lab," he said, rather grumpily.

 
	"Honey, we're home!" Dana called. Jack had been supposed to  
meet up with her at the party. 
	Tim switched off the documentary about Hitler and his Spear of  
Destiny, and sat up on the couch as his parents walked into the room. 
	"Bert's asleep?" Jack asked. 
	"Yup." 
	"Did he behave for you?" Dana asked, a trace of concern wrinkling 
her brow. 
	"Well, he was good enough," Tim shrugged. "But you're right, he 
was acting weird." 
	"Did he say anything? He's so quiet, I just never..." 
	"Yeah, it was the weirdest thing," Tim said, gesturing with his 
hands. "He says he doesn't want to be Batman anymore." 
	Dana's eyes widened. "But he always wants to be Batman!" 
	"Good riddance," Jack grumbled. "I thought he was never going to 
outgrow that." 
	"Shut up, Jack," Dana dismissed. "Did he say why?" 
	Tim ran his fingers through his hair. "He said he wants to be 
Superman now." 
	Jack threw up his hands. "Great. Our boy is determined to go 
through life with his underwear on the wrong side of his trousers. Well,  
better a real hero than that vigilante." 
	"I guess maybe he needed a change," Dana frowned. "What did 
you do?" 
	"I did what I had to, Dana. I faked a Brainiac voice and kidnapped 
Gator. Oh, and Dad, if he starts asking for dolls, I know what you're going 
to say, but he just wants a Lois Lane to rescue. Really." 
	"I have a headache," Jack grumbled. 
	Tim winced. "And there may be a large stockpile of green blocks 
in your toolbox downstairs." 
	Jack raised one eyebrow. "And, why, pray tell?" 
	"Because we thought it might be lead-lined and we didn't want to 
give Bertie Kryptonite poisoning." 
	"I'm going to bed." 
	Dana nodded. "That's probably for the best, dear." 
 
 
	"Hello?" Tim called, poking his head into the Grayson's living 
room. "Anybody home?" 
	"We're in the back room, Tim," Barbara's voice came over the 
house intercom. "Come on back." 
	Tim watched the carpet as he made his way to the rear of the 
house, on the lookout for dropped toys, but there were none. Unlike his 
own brother, Spud was a meticulous player, carefully picking things up 
when he was done. If only Bert could be so neat... 
	The heavy door to the computer room was slightly ajar, so Tim  
stuck his head in. 
	Barbara sat in her usual spot, turned around to say something to 
her son. She was typing rapidly, even though her attention was elsewhere.  
Tim was impressed. 
	Spud sat on the floor, next to a momentarily abandoned picture 
book. Right now, he was moving a little magnet around on a large metal  
globe. His floppy cloth horse, Buckshot, sat in his lap. 
	"Right there?" 
	"Well, she says she's on number 17. Is 17 between 10 and 15?" 
	Spud frowned, and moved the magnet again. "Right there?" 
	"Well, what's there?" 
	"Um... a big island!" 
	"Dinah, look out the window. What do you see?" 
	Dinah Lance's voice filtered through their commlink. 
	"Well, Babsy, right now, we're flying over Sicily. That's the big 
rock that the Italy boot likes to kick." 
	"See, I got it," Spud replied. 
	"Well, our expert mapper has your position perfectly, Canary." 
	"I knew I was in good hands." 
	"And we have a visitor." 
	"Hi, Dinah!" Tim called, leaning over towards Oracle's mic. 
	"TIMMY!" 
	"Hi, Tim," Spud said disinterestedly, picking up his book again.  
	Tim glanced at it. _The Big Book of Trains._ 
	"Business or pleasure?" Babs asked. 
	"Oh... business, I guess. But personal business, not anything Bat-
infested." 
	"No prob. Dinah, I'm gonna talk to Tim for a few, you'll be okay 
on your nice cushy flight, right?" 
	"Put me on speaker! Or put Tim on speaker. I want in!" 
	Barbara raised an eyebrow at Tim. He shrugged. "Yeah, go ahead. 
It's not too personal." 
	"Hi, Tim!" Dinah called. 
	"Hi, Dinah," Tim replied. "Aren't the other passengers giving you 
funny looks, talking to your imaginary friends?" 
	"Nah. Someone booked me on the same flight as some 'Old but 
Bold' tour group, and none of the people within five seats of me could hear 
me without turning their hearing aids up a few notches. If they were even 
awake." 
	"Oh, that's cool." 
	"So what's up, Boy Wonder?" Babs asked, stretching her arms 
above her head. 
	"Well, you've met my little brother, right, Babs?" 
	"Sure." 
	"Dweeb," Spud muttered under his breath. 
	"Hey!" Babs pointed her finger at Spud. "Would you like him to  
talk about you behind your back?" 
	"Tim's talking about him behind his back." 
	"Can you talk about someone behind their back when they're 
four?" Dinah wondered aloud. 
	"Well, don't use that word." 
	"He is a dweeb!" 
	"Yeah? So are you. Go ahead, Tim." 
	Tim raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" 
	"Yes." 
	"Okay, well, you know about his little Batman complex, right?" 
	"Yeah, when do we get to tell Bruce about that?" Dinah asked. 
	"Yes, I believe you've mentioned it," Babs went on, ignoring her  
partner. 
	"Well, Bruce never gets to find out about it," Tim shrugged. "It's 
over." 
	"It's over?" Dinah asked sadly. "Aw... but it was so cute! 
Remember when I babysat that once? And he saved me from Clayface?" 
	"He did not save you from Clayface," Babs informed her. 
	"Well, Alfred could have been Clayface. Bertie was just being  
cautious." 
	"Whatever, Dinah," Barbara rolled her eyes. "Okay, go on, Tim." 
	Tim scratched his head. "Well... I mean, I guess I should be happy. 
I mean, if he's outgrowing it, maybe he'll outgrow the fact that he knows 
my secret identity. I mean, I was constantly in jeopardy of Dad or  
Dana find--" 
	"But?" Dinah prompted. 
	"But I miss it. It was kinda... flattering, I guess. Because if he 
wanted to be like Batman, I guess it was like he wanted to be in my world 
a little." 
	"Like you could model him in your own image?" Babs guessed.  
	"That's a natural parent feeling." 
	"I don't wanna be like you," Spud announced, wrinkling his nose. 
"You're boring." 
	Barbara wrinkled her nose back at him. "Well, I don't want to be 
like you, either. So, there." 
	"I'm not his parent," Tim pointed out. 
	"Close enough!" Dinah called from Sicilian airspace. 
	"That's not the worst," Tim added. "Now, he wants to be 
Superman." 
	There was silence. 
	And then there was laughing. 
	Lots of it. 
	"Hey, it's not funny! I mean, it's one thing to play being Robin, or 
even the Joker or something, but it's weird being Lex Luthor. I have too 
much hair to be Lex Luthor. And if he ever makes me be Jimmy Olsen, so 
help me..." 
	"Bwahahahahahahahaha!" Dinah gasped. 
	"Does he... have... a little... spit curl...?" Babs managed between 
giggles. 
	"Hey, Superman's cool!" Spud announced. He happened to be 
wearing his Superman underwear that day. 
	"Kiddo, he couldn't be any squarer if he were a parallelogram with 
four ninety degree angles and sides of equal length!" Dinah howled. 
	"Geometry jokes? Come on, Dinah, I know you didn't make that 
one up, which of your geezers did you pick that one off?" Babs snickered. 
	"Jay!" Dinah replied, collapsing into another fit of giggles. 
	"You are... not helping," Tim informed them. 
	Babs struggled to gain her composure. "Sorry, Tim. Bwahahaha-
hahahahaha!" She cleared her throat. "Okay. I'm better now.  Look, I'm 
sure it's just a phase he's going through. Little boys go through phases. 
He'll grow out of it before you know it." 
	"I don't have phasors!" Spud protested. 
	"You are a phasor," Babs informed him. 
	"Besides," Dinah put in. "It could be worse." 
	Tim scowled. "How?" 
	"He could... snicker... think he was Aquaman!" 
 
 
	The elevator let Tim Drake off on the twenty-third floor of his 
apartment building. 
	Tiredly, he stumbled into the hallway towards number 2307. 
He started to stick his keycard into the lock, then remember to check the 
door for the little Super-symbol kitchen magnet which might or might not 
be stuck to the metal key slot. 
	Why can't we just use a sock or a bagel or something like normal  
people? Tim grimaced. 
	No magnet. Good. Kon must've gone home. 
	Tim slid his card through the slot, and walked in. 
	Kon had not gone home. 
	He was sitting on Tim's couch, with Tim's roommate snuggling 
into his side, eating Tim's popcorn, and watching Tim's copy of "The  
Untouchables" on Tim's television. 
	"Hey, Tim," he called amicably. 
	Cassandra's head slowly peeked up above the edge of the couch.  
	"Hi, Tim." 
	"I didn't realize you were still here," Tim excused lamely. "I can 
get outta here, no prob--" 
	Kon's forehead creased. "Dude, if we wanted privacy, we would 
have stuck the SuperSex magnet on the door." 
	Tim winced. "Do you have to call it that?" 
	"Yes," Kon informed him. "I do." 
	"Have good time with Bert?" Cass asked, her voice a little sleepy. 
	"Yeah... yeah, it was okay," Tim said slowly. 
	"Hey, come sit down," Kon invited, turning off the movie. "Scoot 
over, Li'l Chum." 
	Cass promptly sat up, ending up even closer to Kon in the process. 
	Great, Tim thought. Even Cass likes Superboys better than 
Batboys. 
	"Sounds like you had a long night," Kon observed as Tim plopped  
down on the couch. 
	"Jack give you trouble?" Cass frowned. 
	"Well, no more than usual. It, uh... it was Bert, actually." 
	"I need to meet Bert," Kon mused. 
	"No, you don't," Tim scowled. Talk about making the problem 
worse... 
	"What wrong with Bert?" Cass asked. 
	"Well, he thinks he's..." Tim trailed off. Current pissiness aside, 
Kon was his friend, and he might be insulted if Tim started being anal 
about Bert's choice of idols. "Nothing," he finished lamely. "He's just 
growing up a little, and I guess I'm feeling left behind." 
	"Bert still love you," Cass put in comfortingly. 
	"Yeah, but... well, you know how Bert and I am. And now, he just 
doesn't feel like *my* little brother. He's not Timmy's boy anymore." 
	"Kids have to grow up, Robbie," Kon offered. "I mean, you had to 
stop being just like your dad at some point, right? And believe me, from 
what I've heard, that's a good thing." 
	Tim shook his head. "Well... well, yeah... but... well... but why 
Superman? Why does he want to be Superman, of all people?" 
	Whoops. So much for hurt feelings. 
	"WHAT?" Cass exploded, practically jumping out of Kon's arms.  
"No! Bertie is Batman! Gator is Superman!" 
	"Not anymore," Tim shrugged. "Now Gator has to be Batman. And  
believe me, did he get the shaft. Spent all night under the bathroom sink  
helping Aquaman hunt down sewer monsters." 
	Cass started to open her mouth, and then couldn't think of anything 
to say. "NO!" she finally managed. 
	Tim sighed. "Babs says it's just a phase. And I guess it is. But... it 
was fun, wasn't it? While it lasted?" 
	Cass sniffled. "Poor Bertie." 
	Kon scratched his head, and Tim cringed. "Er, Kon, I didn't mean 
it that way..." 
	"Nah, no problem, Robbie. I was just thinking... I mean, I know 
you think I'm a bad influence and all, but you think maybe you could let 
me talk to the little dude? I might be able to help him out, y'know?" 
	Tim looked up at Cassandra's flaming brown eyes, and then at  
Kon's coolly blue ones. 
	"Ah, why not? After all... it couldn't hurt." 
 
 
	"Superman," Roxy Rockets intoned. "It's time for you to take a 
nap. A *dirt* nap!" 
	"NO!" 
	Superman stared down his foe icily. 
	"If you don't take a nap, now," Rockets informed him, "you'll 
waste all your energy, and then I'll just take over the world, later!" 
	Superman winced. She was right. Without sleep, how could he 
manage to be super all day long? How could he uphold the fight for truth,  
justice, and the American way? 
	Batman didn't have to take naps. 
	Batman stayed up all night. 
	Batman was sitting on his dresser, starting down at him with 
bulbous, unfeeling eyes. 
	I envy you, old friend, Superman thought, as he felt himself being 
lifted towards his bed. I envy you. 
 
 
	When Bert woke up, he could hear people talking downstairs. He  
stood up on the railing of his bed, grabbed Gator off the dresser, and 
headed downstairs. 
	Mommy and Timmy were in the kitchen, drinking coffee and 
talking in happy voices. 
	"Well, look who's up!" Mommy said. "How was your nap, li'l 
guy?" 
	Bert rubbed his eyes. 
	"Look who's here!" 
	Tim knelt down on the floor and held his arms wide. 
	Bert ran in for the hug, and felt himself flying up in the air. 
	"Hey, Bertie!" Tim greeted. "I was wondering if you wanted to  
spend the night with me at my apartment. I hear there's a movie you've 
been wanting to see..." 
	"ROCKETSHIP STAN ON DINOSAUR PLANET!" Bert 
squealed happily. 
	"Yeah, that's what I hear. And you know, Cassandra's been 
bugging me to take her, so I thought maybe you'd like to come along. And  
maybe dinner afterwards? I haven't been to Pizza Adventure in forever, 
and--" 
	"Mommy, can I?" Bert asked breathlessly. "I took my nap! I been 
good!" 
	Dana smiled gently. "You're going to spoil him, Tim." 
	"A little attention never hurt anybody," Tim replied softly. 
	"Very true." Dana handed Tim the overnight bag she'd already 
packed. "You boys have a good time. And you remember to let Cassandra 
have some fun, too, okay, Bert?" 
	"Yes, Mommy!" 
	"I'll see you guys later." 
	Dana Drake took another sip of her coffee, and wondered what 
Tim had up his sleeve this time. 
 
 
 
	Tim carried Bert piggy-back as they stepped off the elevator. 
	Once again, the magnet was *not* on the key slot. 
	Tim silently thanked God. That was totally not something Bert  
needed to see. 
	"Hello, we're here!" Tim called. 
	"'LO!" Bert echoed. 
	"Hey, guys," Kon greeted. "Cass's getting dressed." 
	"Cool," Tim replied, sweeping Bert off his shoulders, and setting 
him down on the couch next to Kon. "Bert, this is me and Cass's friend, 
Kon. Kon, this is my little brother, Bert." 
	"Nice to meet you, Bert," Kon said politely. 
	"'Lo," Bert repeated. 
	"I need to go, uh, wash up," Tim excused himself. "Bert, could you 
keep an eye on Kon for me? Make sure he doesn't make a mess or get into 
any trouble?" 
	"Kay!" 
	And then Tim promptly made himself scarce. 
	"So, Tim tells me you're a big fan of Superman, huh?" Kon asked  
casually. 
	"Yup," Bert replied. 
	"That's kewl," Kon replied. "He's a pretty neato guy." 
	"Yup." 
	Kon leaned closer. "Wanna know a secret?" 
	Bert nodded, eyes wide as saucers. He covered up Gator's ears... or 
rather the spots he assumed Gator's ears would be. 
	"Nah, you can let Mr. Alligator in on this," Kon assured.  
	"There used to be a time... not too long ago, actually... when the 
only thing I wanted to be when I grew up was Superman." 
	Bert nodded, understandingly. 
	"I thought, what ever I'm doing now... none of that matters. The 
only thing that matters is what I am then. What I'm going to be." Kon  
leaned back. "Wanna know something, Bert?" 
	"What?" 
	"There's already a Superman. And he's pretty good at his job. He's 
not waiting for me to grow up and take his job." 
	"Oh." 
	"And once I realized that, I started to realize other stuff, too. Like, 
I have friends. Friends like Tim and Cass and Bart and Suzy and Cissie 
and the other Cass and lots more. I'm sure Superman has friends, too, but 
they're not my friends. They're his friends. And I like loud music and 
movies about gangsters and computer games and sushi. And maybe 
Superman likes that stuff, too, but maybe he doesn't. And I wondered, if I  
were Superman, would I have to like his stuff, or could I still like my 
stuff? And if I had to like his stuff... well, maybe I didn't want to be  
Superman when I grew up. Why should I have to be exactly like someone 
else, when I can be exactly like me?" 
	Bert nodded, clutching Gator to his chest. 
	"So I've decided just to be me. And if Superman comes up to me  
someday, and asks me to be Superman for him, maybe I'll say yes, and 
maybe I'll say no. But right now, I just like being me. 'Cause when I'm me, 
I can do what I want, not what someone else would want me to do." 
	Bert chewed on one of Gator's feet pensively. 
	"Y'know, Bert, thanks for listening. I always wanted to tell 
someone that." 
	"Welcome," Bert replied. 
	"Gee, what's taking Cass and Tim, so long?" Kon El wondered  
loudly. "It sure is taking them a looooooooong time..." 
	"I is ready!" Cassandra announced, bounding out of her bedroom. 
"'Lo, Bert!" 
	"'Lo, Cass!" Bert greeted back. 
	Tim walked out of the bathroom, and shut the door carefully. 
	"Ready to go?" Cass asked Bert, leaning over the back of the 
couch. 
	"Uh-huh!" 
	"You ready, too?" Cass asked Kon. 
	"Er, well, I oughtta jet," he excused quickly. 
	"You should come!" Cass protested. 
	Kon stood up, and kissed her quickly. 
	"EW!" Bert announced. 
	Tim turned bright red. Mostly because that's what he'd been 
thinking. 
	"Everyone's a critic," Kon winked. "Yeah, um, you guys have a 
great time." He ruffled Bert's hair. "You got a great kid brother, Drake. I 
could use one of these myself." 
	Tim swallowed. "Hey, Kon. You're sure you don't wanna tag 
along? I hear this is one of Rocketship Stan's best..." 
	Kon scratched the back of his head, then winked at Tim. "Well... 
why not? Couldn't hurt." 
 
 
	He was overwhelmed. 
	There were too many decisions to be made. 
	So many games and toys at Pizza Adventure... 
	Batman would prefer to crawl through the tunnel maze, searching 
out Solomon Grundy down in the sewer system. 
	Superman would prefer to dive through the twisty slide, taking the 
special portal into hyperspace to fight Brainiac. 
	Robin stood by his side, waiting for a command decision. 
	He glanced over to where Batgirl sat, obviously discussing strategy 
with, um... that other guy. Who was he...? Impulse. He must be Impulse. 
	"So, what'll it be, li'l bro?" Robin asked, leaning down near  
his side. 
	"Ball pit," Bert Drake replied. 
 
 
The End