Once Dick got back to the cave he took the zeta beam to Gotham, the prospect of going home, for once, not seeming so terribly unbearable. He managed to sneak back into the house undetected, shedding his uniform in his bedroom as he wasn’t quite ready to confront Bruce. He’d already decided that he would go to Alfred first, knowing the old man would still be awake as long as he knew that Dick was away.
Dick pulled on a pair of jeans, wondering for the first time in a long time if they’d been washed recently. He then took a moment to examine the bruising on his chest from being smacked out of midair by Parasite and falling through a burning building. It was extensive, to say the least, but nothing he couldn’t handle; if it started to hurt later, he would let Alfred look at it. He gently pulled a t-shirt on, followed by a hoodie and ran a hand through his hair, crinkling his nose as it stood on end. He definitely needed a shower.
Finally Dick sighed, exiting the bathroom and throwing a quick glance at the clock, 3:32 am, before steeling himself and pushing open his bedroom door. Once in the hallway he chanced a glance into Bruce’s room, not very surprised to find it empty; Batman was probably working late again. The acrobat slowly made his way towards the stairs, the same feeling of failure and shame he’d felt back at the circus returning with a renewed vengeance. But it was too late to turn back. He knew he had to face this eventually, and Alfred was a good place to start.
“Hey, Alfred,” Dick called softly, padding nimbly down the staircase, eyes searching the gloom for the telltale glow from an occupied room.
“Master Richard!” The old butler’s face appeared, illuminated by a candle he was holding.
Dick smiled at the sight of the man, his eyes suddenly beginning to feel hot as he began to finally realize all he’d put Alfred through the past few months.
“Candles are a little old fashioned, don’t you think?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood slightly.
“Oh, Master Dick, I’m so glad you’re back.” The lines on the old face wrinkled in pure joy and Dick couldn’t help it anymore. Rushing forward, he threw himself into Alfred’s arms, tears beginning to stream down his face once more.
“Alfred,” He sobbed, gripping the fabric of the man’s suit in his fingers, breathing deeply in the smell of peppermint and pine, letting it wash over him and comfort him.
Alfred stood, stoically as ever, gently running a hand through the boy’s hair, as the other rested against his back, careful to keep the candle from burning the dark locks.
“Alfred, I’m so sorry,” Dick choked, his face buried in the butler’s chest as his tears soaked the white shirt.
“Master Dick.” The voice was filled with joy and relief, only causing Dick to tremble harder as the gravity of the situation hit him – again, and again and again.
“A-Alfred, I’ve m-messed up s-so bad.”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Alfred gently led the boy over the stairs, sitting him down as he continued to cry into the butler’s chest.
“I-I don’t know what got into me.” Dick sniffled. “I-I just…. Alfred, wh-what have I done? B-Bruce, you, everyone must hate me! I-I’m s-so sorry!”
Alfred continued to run his hand over the boy’s hair, his eyebrows stitched together in agony at pain and sorrow his youngest boy was feeling. After a few moments he finally spoke again:
“Why do we fall, Master Richard?”
“Wh-what?” Dick choked, looking up with a tear-stained face.
“Why do we fall?”
Dick sniffled, reaching up to wipe the tears on his face with his sleeve. “S-so we can learn to p-pick ourselves back up….”
“So we can learn to pick ourselves back up.” Alfred rested a hand on the boy’s small back, crinkles forming at the edges of his eyes. “I’m proud of you, Master Dick. Yes, I am still disappointed in what you’ve done, but not in you yourself. I’m still as proud of you as ever. More so, after seeing you make it through this.”
“Th-thanks, Alfred.” Dick sniffled again, running a finger under his eye before drawing his sleeves over his hands, suddenly chilly. “Hey, where’s Bruce?”
A shadow suddenly fell over Alfred’s face, his voice grim. “I’m afraid that Master Bruce is out ‘rescuing’ you from your ‘kidnappers’.”
“What?” Dick sat upright, eyes wide and tears forgotten.
“Earlier tonight, or should I say earlier this morning, seeing as it appears to be morning, Batman received a call from Commissioner Gordon involving an anonymous tip that a man in a red helmet was seen attempting to subdue you, apparently in hopes of kidnapping you. He left nearly three hours ago.” Alfred’s face was etched with worry.
“No!”
“Miss Martian to Robin!”
For a second, Dick froze before hastily put his finger to his ear, remembering he hadn’t taken his com unit out.
“Miss M, what is it?”
“The mountain received a call from an unidentified caller. He broke through the security and left a message.” The voice sounded panicked.
“What did it say?” Dick glanced at Alfred, who was watching him closely.
“It – it said that he, whoever left the message, had Batman and that if Robin didn’t come within the hour, he would sh-shoot him. Batman, I mean. And he said that Robin had to come alone, otherwise he would shoot anyway. I’m sending you the coordinates we received.”
Dick’s eyes widened as he turned to face Alfred, fear growing in the pit of his stomach.
“They have Batman.” He whispered, as though afraid anything louder would somehow bring on the bullet. “He-he says he’s gonna shoot him if I don’t go.”
Alfred’s face grew pale, though he remained as composed as always as he put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Alfred, I have to go!”
“Now, Master Richard-”
“I don’t have a choice!” Dick shrugged off the butler’s hand, standing up as he switched back to Miss Martian’s com channel.
“Thanks Miss M. Now get some sleep, I’ll handle this.”
“Master Richar-”
“Do you want me to call the Team? I know he said you have to come alone, but maybe we could hide a couple blocks away or something, you’ll need backu-”
“There’s no time.” Dick was already heading towards the entrance to the Batcave, there being absolutely no question in his mind of what he was going to do.
“Master Richard!” Alfred’s sharp voice cut through his focus. “I implore you to use your common sense and think this through before rushing off and getting yourself killed.”
Or worse, Dick thought. But he kept that thought to himself, instead saying:
“Alfred, he said I have to be there within the hour. I have to go now.”
Alfred looked like he wanted to argue with him, to plead with him to stay, to not go, but Dick knew that Alfred knew this was the only way.
“Very well,” He finally consented. “We will talk as you get dressed.”
oOo
Robin hunched over the handlebars of his bike, shivering as the cold December air nipped at the bare skin on his arms. He was less than ten minutes away from the coordinates with only fifteen minutes left until his time ran out. The bare beginnings of a plan that he had formed with Alfred were at the forefront of his mind and he desperately hoped that Batman would be conscious when he got there. The butler had finally convinced him to call Artemis, she being the closest and all, as well as the rest of the Team, telling them to get there as soon as they could rally everybody together. Alfred, meanwhile, said he would attempt to contact Superman, though he was on a League mission, so his appearance wasn’t to be counted on.
Sniffling slightly from the residue of his cold, Robin glanced down at the coordinates displayed on the screen on his bike, reassuring himself that he was heading in the right direction. Quite honestly, he was terrified, knowing that any man who claimed to have the Dark Knight in position to be used as blackmail was a force to be reckoned with and not to be taken lightly. Not to mention this man was out to get Robin and give him to a crazy ‘scientist’ who had been deprived of Robin for a dangerous period of time. Also, that he, Robin, was pathetically unprepared and quite possible pathetically outnumbered as he had no idea how many thugs this guy had working for him. So maybe terrified wasn’t a strong enough word.
“Robin.”
It was Artemis.
“What?”
“ETA twelve minutes.”
“Kay. Once you get there, stay back, don’t show yourself. He wants me and me only.”
“Full of it much?” Artemis joked, though without her usual enthusiasm.
Robin just smiled a little before switching off his comm. and gunning the engine. He got to the area in six minutes, thirty-six seconds. He parked his bike a block away from the exact coordinates, in the eave of an old paint factory building, setting the security system on high. He was now in the narrows, on the very cusp, near the docks. Not a friendly place, though typically quiet, ideal for a hostage situation.
Robin removed his helmet, checking over his equipment quickly before setting off towards the meeting place. The side street he was on was dark, a lone, flickering streetlamp a block away the light until one reached the docks. He crept quietly along next to the paint building, careful not to upset any creatures that might alert the enemy of his presence. Not that it mattered. Just as he rounded the corner of the building, a slightly muffled, hollow voice spoke:
“You can’t hide form me, Boy Wonder.”
Robin’s head shot up to the source of the voice, his body falling into a defensive stance. The speaker was a man, crouched in front of a building opposite the old paint factory. From the sound of his voice and the look of his body, Robin estimated him to be in his early twenties. He was dressed in a dark brown leather jacket and over his face he wore a red helmet-like face mask, complete with glowing slits for eyes. If Robin could’ve seen his mouth, he betted he would be smirking.
But then Robin’s eyes fell from him down the dark shadow in front of him. Batman was kneeling, his head bowed, at the man’s feet, while the mouth of a gun pressed into the side of his head. Robin couldn’t tell whether the Bat was unconscious or not, with the position of his head, but didn’t think the Dark Knight was fully awake, either way.
Seeing Batman so vulnerable was what finally thrust Robin over the edge. He began to shake slightly, fear starting to cloud his senses. Was this how Batman felt, every time he saw Robin at the hands of a villain? So weak, so vulnerable, so utterly helpless?
No! He told himself. He had to remain calm. If he didn’t, if he lost his head, so would Batman. He had to be strong, for both of them.
“Who are you?” Robin demanded, in the strongest voice he could muster. He knew he had to stall for time until Artemis got there. He knew there was no way he could get Batman out of the harm’s way without a distraction, and he couldn’t be in two places at once, contrary to popular belief. And besides, he had no idea how many thugs were hiding in the shadows, just waiting for a signal.
“My name doesn’t matter, kid. You’ve probably never heard of me anyway.” The voice was mocking, almost, arrogant and haughty, with a touch of humor about it. Like the man was just about to laugh, but instead turned it into a sneer.
“I don’t recognize you, that’s for sure.” Robin edged forward slightly, beginning so slowly move around in a perimeter, his eyes flicking between the man and his mentor. “I think I would’ve remembered a cheap knock-off of Sportsmaster in red.” He knew he was treading dangerous ground, but it was the only way to get his emotions in check. At least somewhat.
“If only you knew, Birdie.” The man laughed a low laugh, short, and sinister. “But let’s cut the crap. Drop your weapons, come quietly, and Batsy gets to continue his mission of creating psychotic criminal masterminds.”
“Robin, I’m here. Awaiting your signal.”
“Fine.” Robin lifted his hands in the air to show he had no weapons as he began walking towards the man. His heart began beating faster the closer he got and he could only hope that it wouldn’t give him away. As walked he discreetly moved his finger to his ear, pressing the alarm button on his comm. and hoping that Artemis would understand.
He was less than eight feet away when something whistled past Robin’s ear before hitting the ground, immediately releasing a cloud of smoke. As the arrow hit, Robin was already in the air, foot aimed at the hand that held the gun to Batman’s head. He felt it connect, but instead of the typical clatter of a gun landing on the concrete, Robin felt a hand catch his ankle before he was suddenly airborne, sailing through the air away from the enemy.
He twisted in midair, managing to land on his feet as the man spoke again.
“Oh good, I was beginning to think this would be too easy.”
“Yah!” Artemis’s boot nailed the man in the face, or helmet, sending him reeling back slightly.
“Tsk tsk, don’t play by the rules, do we?”
Robin growled, drawing out two exploding disks. A quick glance revealed that Batman had been somehow pushed out of the way and now lay on his side, eyes closed behind the cowl. Robin threw the disks, running forward and vaulting over the man, rolling to a stop beside his mentor as Artemis engaged.
The acrobat carefully rolled the Dark Knight on his back, bending over and listening for breath, a heartbeat, anything. He was relieved to hear both. Gently patting his cheek, Robin whispered urgently:
“Batman, Batman, wake up.”
“Ungh.”
Robin sighed in relief as the lenses of the cowl opened and Batman pushed himself up, a gloved hand quickly going to his head.
“Robin…?”
“Batman, it’s me.” Robin stared down worriedly at his mentor.
“The Hood, he drugged me.” The Dark Knight growled, fists clenching. “He knew the weak points of my armor.”
“But that’s impossi-”
“That doesn’t matter right now.” Batman was on his feet in an instant, fists still clenched in an offensive position. “We have to take down that man before backup arrives.”
Robin nodded, rising as well, hands full of disks.
“And we will talk about your behavior when this is over.”
They exchanged a look and Robin knew that in that one look, everything was settled between them, for now. In that one look, their own faults were acknowledged and acceptance was given in return. In that one look, Robin knew that everything would be alright between him and Bruce, eventually.
“Oh, this is getting fun.” The man in the red helmet had his arms crossed, Artemis slowly picking herself up a couple feet away. “And as much as I would love to have the personal pleasure of taking down all of you myself, I think it’s time to even the playing field.” He fired a shot into the air and before Robin knew it, they were surrounded by thugs, all armed with crowbars and guns.
“We need the boy alive,” The man shouted, his voice beginning to fill with glee. “But the others, heh heh, fire at will.”
And then they were in the fight of their lives.
Things were a blur as suddenly Robin was fighting twenty thousand guys at once. Instinct quickly took over as his body went into overdrive, leaping, twisting, kicking, punching, and, hopefully, surviving. Robin ducked a kick to the head, spinning halfway down and coming up, escrima stick aimed for another thugs face. Before the hit even landed, his right leg shot out to the side, nailing another one in the sweet spot, sending him down senseless.
Kicking off his right leg, Robin launched himself into a spinning kick, landing him in between two thugs who quickly received matching fists to the face. Dropping to the ground, Robin threw himself to the side as a gunshot went off, coming up behind a thug aiming at Batman. Bringing his hands together, he thrust his escrima sticks down at the back of the man’s head. Without waiting for a result, he spun around engaging another enemy.
Glancing to his left he saw Artemis fighting three at a time, her bow being used as a staff and her heavy combat boots landing many a hit. He internally winced, know what those boots were capable of. Batman was off to his right, a dark shadow moving among the thugs, taking another down before the first hit the ground. It seemed as if they should be winning, but the thugs didn’t seem to stay down. One would take a direct hit to the head with a Bat-fist and would get up a few seconds later, dizzy, but otherwise seemingly unharmed.
“Bats,” Robin ground out, moving so he was fighting back-to-back with his mentor. “I think these guys are on something. No way this is natural.”
Batman only grunted in response, his fist busy sinking into an abdomen.
“Where’d helmet guy go, anyway?” Robin asked, springing off Batman’s back into a thugs face.
“Watching.”
Robin found that odd, as it had appeared he had been the one behind taking down the Bat, seeing as the current thugs, while not staying down, weren’t posing an incredible challenge to the Dark Knight.
Robin sprang into the air, vaulting off a thug’s shoulders before twisting and kicking him and another in the face. He landed and continued in momentum into a roll, coming up under a gunman. Rolling backwards, he sprung off his hand, kicking the gun up and out of the man’s hands before landing in a defensive stance. The man swung a fist at him, that he easily dodged, and he retaliated with an uppercut. It was blocked. Another fist came, heading towards his face. He dodged, but failed to see the thug sneaking up behind him.
A hit was landed on his back before Robin spun around, kicking up at the thugs chin. It landed, but as Robin turned again to face the other man, he saw a fist in his peripheral vision, heading for his head, before suddenly –
Whack!
The fist was blocked by a bow, which proceeded to knock away the other thugs.
“Where have I seen this before?” Artemis smirked, turning so she and Robin were back-to-back. “I guess some things never change. I’ll always have to save your butt.”
“I had it under control.” Robin growled, though rather half-heartedly. So, he didn’t, but he could’ve survived a hit to the face. It would’ve ruined his handsome features, but he would’ve lived.
“Whatever you say, Wonder Boy.”
And then they were off again. At some point, Robin noticed the arrival of parts of the Team. Miss Martian and Superboy were there, as well as Kid Flash and Red Arrow. The two aliens and the archer had obviously been still awake and easily contactable from the previous mission, and Kid Flash was Kid Flash. As much as Robin was grateful for their help (they obviously needed it), he hated to have them mixed up with the red helmet guy too.
After a couple minutes, it became obvious that more back up had arrived for the baddies. Robin figured someone must’ve heard the racket by now and called the cops. Not that he wanted the cops mixed in with the fight, but they had to be here to clean up the mess.
“Ayah!”
And there was a sword coming for his head. Robin leaped back, barely missing getting a lovely gash in his chest. There was a large man standing over him, at least seven feet tall, insanely muscled, and armed with a scimitar. He was shirtless and reminded Robin vaguely of Ubu. Ubu was a cool guy. But this guy wasn’t nearly as friendly. Another swipe of the sword and Robin knew this guy was good. He pulled out his escrima sticks again, using them to block the swords strikes.
After a couple of blocked fatal swipes, Robin realized the man was backing him back towards the paint factory. Not good, he thought. If the man managed to drive him against the wall, he would be a severe disadvantage. But it didn’t look like he had a choice.
“I’m gonna gut you, little birdie.” The man growled, advancing ever closer, not even seeming to break a sweat.
“I thought,” Robin panted, ducking under the sword. “That your master… wanted me… alive.”
“I have no master.”
Uh oh, not good.
Robin took a step back, bringing his escrima sticks up in an ‘x’ to block an attack, only to find his back against the wall. He tried to push back and gain ground, but the swordsman was strong – much stronger than Robin. The boy was shoved back, flat against the wall. The next sword stroke forced Robin dodge to the side, wincing as the blade scraped across the brick of the paint building.
Another strike and a dodge and Robin’s back hit something hard. A quick glance showed it was some sort of track attached the wall, probably used for an elevator or something. An elevator…. Robin’s head shot up, catching sight of the elevator suspended some feet above his head, old and rusty. But he didn’t really have any other options. When the next barrage of sword strikes came, the acrobat hurled himself in the air, gasping as the sword caught his leg, cutting a thin trail into his skin. Nonetheless, he managed to grab the bottom and side of the elevator, his left hand grasping a thin ledge on the side and his right tucked into a small area between the track and wheels.
“Looks like the little birdie really can fly.” The man laughed, casually swinging his sword. “Let’s see how good he is.”
And then the sword of after his legs, slashing and swiping at them as Robin swung around underneath the elevator, trying to keep his feet where they belonged. He knew he had to get down and get back to the fight, though, and began planning an escape. As he was thinking, the swordsmen stopped attacking, instead peered up into the gloom, eyes squinting and gears turning. A smile overtook his features and Robin knew he had to get down now.
But again, it was too late. The man moved, almost too fast for Robin to follow, and the next thing the boy knew, he was hearing the sound of ropes being cut. He felt the elevator shake, but before as he tried to release his grip, he found his right hand was stuck. Stupid gloves. Struggling to pull his hand free, Robin glance over to where the swordsman was wandering around underneath the elevator, no doubt looking for the last rope to release the car.
He pulled harder, contorting his hand in any way possible to get it out. He finally felt the metal clasp of his glove catching and then ripping as it was pulled from the back of his hand. He was almost free when he heard a rope cut and then a creaking sound that seemed to last for hours. Next thing he knew, his hand exploded in agony, the elevator car falling down the tracks, crushing his hand in the process and grinding it together in its decent. Robin had never felt such pain in his life.
White exploded to red which turned to pulsating darkness, ripping at his very soul as his whole body burned. He was vaguely aware of hitting the ground, his hand finally coming free as the elevator crumbled off the tracks, but his body wasn’t responding apart from screaming in endless pain. Robin wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or closed, whether he was alive or dead. He heard a loud noise but couldn’t discern what it was. He tried to pull his crushed arm to his chest, but he wasn’t even sure if he succeeded or not.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but really couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, Robin was able to open his eyes, his senses returning to semi-normal, though his arm was still pure agony. Managing to slowly sit up, he blinked, swiveling his head and trying to locate the large swordsman before he lost his head. But the man was nowhere to be seen.
“Robin, are you okay?”
Miss Martian.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Robin replied, trying to mean it. “Where’d the guy-?”
“I took care of him, don’t worry.”
“Thanks Miss M.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Robin forced himself to stand, clutching his arm to his chest. He knew he should at least look at it, to see what damage was done, but once he looked down, he immediately regretted it.
His glove was soaked in blood, torn and ripped, what skin could be seen was completely torn up and covered in blood. His fingers stuck out at odd angles and his whole hand and arm were twisted and contorted in sickening ways. He quickly looked away, swallowing bile and hoping that his hand wasn’t permanently damaged. But there wasn’t time to worry about that.
Walking slowly back towards the battle, Robin kept to the shadows, looking out into the gloom at the fight still taking place. It was hard to tell who was winning, but, judging from all the thugs littering the scene, Robin guessed it wasn’t going in their favor. A closer examination showed that the red helmet guy was nowhere to be seen. Definitely not a good sign, but Robin found he was in too much pain to think too much on it.
Deciding to try to help in any way possible by throwing random batarangs at the thugs from the shadows, Robin was just about to sneak off and find a good vantage point when a foot landed hard on his back and sent him stumbling forward. He was barely able to catch himself and prevent landing on his bad arm.
“Alright, this ends here.”
Robin spun around, left arm coming up in what was supposed to be a defensive position, but he couldn’t bring his other arm to complete it. Red was standing above him, blood covering his arms and chest, though he himself looked unharmed. He was unarmed apart from his fists, but Robin suddenly found himself terrified. He’d yet to see the man actually fight, but if he was even half as good as the boy was expecting, Robin knew he was doomed. His only chance was to get back to the main fight.
Without a second thought, Robin launched himself at Red, kicking off his shoulder in a flip. Or at least, that’s what he was aiming for. Instead, as his foot touched the shoulder, a hand grabbed his ankle, yanking him backwards with a jerk. Robin cried out as he felt his knee bend the wrong way and something inside tear. He was thrown to the ground violently, landing heavily on his right leg and side.
Gasping in pain, Robin tried to avoid the kick aimed for him, but wasn’t fast enough. The man’s foot came crashing down onto his knee with such force Robin could hear and feel it shatter. He let out a muffled scream, clenching his jaw so tightly he was sure his teeth would crack. The foot came down again, steal lining raining fire down on Robin’s leg. The next blow was too his chest, so hard that it pushed him over, his back to Red.
Robin knew he had to get up. He knew he had to, but his body seemed protest with every fiber of its being. When the next kick landed on his back, Robin’s whole body filled with fear. He couldn’t let the man break his back. His life would be over. Gathering up every ounce of his strength, the boy pushed himself up, red and white flashing across his vision as his injuries were stretched and pulled. He found he could barely stand; his chest on fire and his leg unable to support his weight. But he had to get away.
Pain was everywhere as Robin pushed himself to move, to back away from the advancing figure of the man in the red helmet. He saw now that he was holding a sword, the one previously held by the large swordsman that had sent the elevator down on Robin’s arm.
“Miss Martian, come in, Miss Martian.” He desperately thought, staggering backwards away from the man who was advancing with agonizing patience, like he knew had all the time in the world.
“Artemis? KF? Somebody, please come in!” No one was answering. Robin tried to bring his hand up to his comm. link but couldn’t, seeing as it was in his right ear.
“It’s just you and me.”
Robin continued to limp backwards, stopping only when he ran into a wall. Again. But this time, Robin knew there was no way out. This time, he knew there was no one coming to save him. No Miss Martian, no Batman, no Artemis, no anyone. This time, he knew it ended here.
His thoughts flashed back to Batman, to his Team, to Barbara, to all the people he never got a chance to apologize to. All the people he’d hurt so badly. He probably wouldn’t die, but he knew the red helmet man would take him back to whatever this Cadmus place was. They would finish whatever they’d started on him and he would never be the same. He’d never return. It was over. All that had happened the past six months; all the pain, the suffering, everything he’d gone through and everything he’d put others through was for nothing. In the end, even Batman couldn’t save him.
The sword came down and Robin raised his wrecked arm to block it, not even thinking anymore. As it sliced through his skin, he heard a scream, far off and distant, as though heard through a glass window far away. He felt the blade slice down his face, over his eye. His vision was fading. Hands were holding him, lifting him up.
“You changed me.”
Artemis’s words echoed in his head. A lot of things had changed. He wasn’t the same little boy who watched his parents die, who watched his world burn before his eyes, who became Robin, who infiltrated Cadmus. He’d changed. A lot. But at the same time, he didn’t. Behind all the masks, he was the same person. He was Dick Grayson. He was Robin. He might’ve changed, but he was still himself. As darkness finally engulfed him, he closed his eyes. At least for one last moment, he knew exactly who he was, behind the mask.