I twirled my finger around the rim of my martini glass, waiting for him to show up. He was late. Maybe he wouldn’t show up. But just when I was about to give up and leave this God-forsaken place, he appeared. Looking smart and with a grin on his face. I followed him with my eyes as he flirted his way to the bar. He bumped on to a woman in front of me. She was attractive and was open to the idea of him buying her a drink. No! I couldn’t let this happen. I had to get him to buy me a drink, not her. I was trying to think as fast as I could while the barman was responding to his call.

‘Oh my God! Is that Bruce Wayne? Without a date?’ I sang with as much girliness as I could master.

Surprisingly it worked and the woman in front of me went in search of Wayne, who was probably clubbing somewhere else tonight. Sometimes being a gold-digger could save your life. I made my move.

‘You can buy me a drink, cutie,’ I continued with girly Helena.

He inspected me thoroughly, decided I was hot enough and shrugged.

‘Of course! What would you like?’ he asked like a gentleman.

‘A martini,’ I replied.

‘You heard the lady!’ he told the barman. The barman nodded and fixing his eyes on me proceeded in making my drink.

‘So what’s your name, beautiful?’ he asked me with a charming bass in his voice.

I giggled. ‘Me? Beautiful? You’re be such a liar,’ I said.

‘I’m not lying,’ he responded.

‘I’m Annabel,’ I introduced myself.

‘Pleased to meet you Annabel. I am Regan’. He fidgeted for my hand and stuck a kiss on the back of my palm.

The barman slipped the drink between my fingers and I looked at him with curiosity as Regan whispered nonsense in my ear.

I wasn’t supposed to notice, but he spiked my drink with a black and green pill like he did with all of them. Despite the lounge music, I heard my drink fizz as it absorbed the pill into its essence. But I had a few tricks up my sleeve. I swapped the spike martini with the one behind me. When he came up he saw me drinking what he thought was a drug induced alcoholic drink.

‘Would you like to keep me company tonight?’ he asked with a large grin on his face.

‘Of course!’ I answered and jumped on my feet, faking clumsiness and he caught me, dragging me out.

I kept the pretense of dizziness all the way out of the club. Out there, he put me in his silver Mercedes and drove me to his apartment. Half way through the journey I made him think I’d lost my consciousness. I closed my eyes and intensified my hearing trying to not lose track of our way. I could hear the slashing of the wind as we dashed through it and the roar of a motorcycle. He carried me out and then into his building. When inside his apartment, he threw me on a sofa, took his coat off and rubbed his body against mine.

I cracked my eyes open, my hands grabbing his neck and my knee making impact with his groin. He howled in pain and with surprise drawn on his face he got up and taking my head between his hands made an effort to throw me off the sofa and onto the coffee table. Instead a pulled my leg up straight and kicked his face off, while the other leg retrieved my body from his grip. In the blink of an eye I was up on my feet. He thrusted himself on me and flattened me down on the floor.

Before I could throw him off me again, a pair of red hands seized him from his shoulders and threw him on his back. The pair of the gloved red hands belonged to a man of tall physique, in green leather trousers and a red vinyl jacket, who jumped on top of Regan, grasped his head and twisted it around, leaving behind the echo of the cracking bones.

‘No!’ I shrieked, got on my feet and kicked the stranger’s back. He stumbled, but turned around and I saw the barman from the club. The one who didn’t take his eyes off me. The punch intended for his face froze mid-air.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I said in a very childish way.

‘Saving your butt, missus,’ he replied snarkily.

‘My butt didn’t need saving, you jerk. I was doing fine on my own,’ I told him letting my hand drop to my waist.

‘That’s not what I saw’.

‘I was about to retaliate. Then you come in and look what you’ve done,’ I said.

‘Well, I’m sorry, but I thought you were under the influence of Vertigo,’ he justified himself with a shrug.

‘You know about Vertigo?’

‘Of course I do. I’ve been watching this guy for weeks. Trust me. He’s better off dead,’ he said.

‘Oh really? If you’ve really been watching him you’d know that he doesn’t kill his victims, but trades them. And if you hadn’t killed him I would have learnt who he does business with,’ I explained.

‘No. I didn’t know that. Sorry!’ he smiled apologetically. He was cute and I was so annoyed at him it made him look hotter.

‘Who the hell are you anyway?’

‘Dick Grayson. But you can call me Robin,’ he told me.

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