13
“You’re not Batman,” the kidnapped boy said. The fumbling grogginess of his voice made him sound even younger than he appeared.
“I’m wearing the mask, so I’m as much Batman as you were,” he responded. The child’s mask had seemed a good compromise, a way to hide his face when the boy was conscious without scaring him and making him scream. “Besides, you’re too young to be Batman. Tell you what. I’ll call you Batman, and you can call me Bruce Wayne. But I get to keep wearing the mask.”
The boy’s coordination was off, too, and he nearly stuck the straw up his nose trying to finish his milkshake. “Bruce” smiled behind his mask. “Make sure you drink it all. Chocolate milkshakes give you superpowers.”
Eyes bleary, the boy still said, “I don’t think so.”
“Sure they do. Why do you think gr
