I'm taking a quick break from Confiscated because I'm having trouble with writing Robin's character. Don't worry; I haven't given up on the story, I just want to do the characters justice. (Doing superheroes justice; I'm sure there's a pun hiding there somewhere) So, without further ado, I give you Heroes Don't Always Win, a short story about Robin.
How had this happened?
That was all Robin could think of as he stared in horror at one of the civilians he had sworn to protect, face first on the ground in a slowly growing puddle of her own crimson blood. Worse, she had fallen in a terrible reversal of rolls: trying to save his life.
The day, even the robbery, had started out rather routine. He'd woken up early –not that six thirty was all that early; it was positively sleeping in by Bruce's standards- and quietly, so as not to disturb Raven, who was sipping something steaming and reading silently, gotten himself an easy breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs with a tall glass of orange juice. Cyborg had come down next, turning on the TV and fixing it to a marathon of MythBusters, but waiting on breakfast so he could rub the sizzling bacon in his vegetarian friend's face (figuratively, of course). Starfire had floated in soon after, sleepily greeting them all and stooping to snatch a bottle of mustard from the fridge. Beast Boy had stumbled in last, sometime around nine twenty, yawning in an incredibly feline way as he loudly greeted them each and said something about making tofu.
Before the argument could even begin, however, the room had flashed red, alerting them all to a robbery in progress; the HIVE students Jinx, Gismo, and Mammoth were causing trouble downtown. Through an excellent display of teamwork (in other circumstances, Robin might have beamed at the memory) he and his friends had taken them down and the Jump City Police Department, Meta-Human Branch, had escorted them to a high security area of the local prison. The Titans had gone back home for a good part of the day, till about an hour ago. That was when the call had come in about the armed bank robbery.
"There's hostages," Robin briefed his team quickly as they piled into the T-car. "Chief of Police says there's at least five guys, all armed." Beast Boy looked nervous. With the possible exceptions of Cyborg, who was mostly metal had little actual skin, and Starfire, because, who knew, she might be bulletproof, guns were a big deal for the whole team.
"Five guys? Bad odds… for them!" The joke was a little strained, Robin had to admit, but Cyborg agreed with the team's youngest member before he could contradict him.
"No kidding, man! I almost feel sorry for 'em." The two grinned at each other, and Cyborg repeated the most important word in the statement: "Almost." Robin was silent for a moment, allowing the two their up-lifting banter, before continuing.
"They're not cooperating with the local enforcements, so we got called. Beast Boy," Robin focused on the green-skinned boy for a moment, ensuring he had his attention. "You and Cyborg are going in the back door, take down at least one man each." The two boys nodded. "Raven, Starfire, head in through the roof. Same thing: disarm and disable." The violet-haired mage and green-eyed girl nodded as well, showing they understood. "I know I don't have to say this, but be careful. These guys are armed and probably getting agitated."
Everything had gone so routinely according to plan: five men lay on the ground, unconscious, with their weapons crushed by Starfire's or Cyborg's incredible strength, mangled by Beast Boy's bear form, or dismantled by Raven's black aura. Robin and the others were starting to free the hostages, among them the black-haired girl now dead on the floor. Unbeknownst to them, however, there had been a sixth man, armed with a handgun, who still hadn't given up. A small bag of cash hidden under his shirt, the man, a short, unassuming individual, had started for the doors. After that, it had gotten a little blurry.
"Hey, you!" Robin wasn't sure which of his teammates had shouted, which of them had noticed the fair-haired man sneaking away; it may have even been him. "Stop right there!" Wild-eyed, the man had spun around, pulling the handgun from his belt. For reasons Robin would never understand –maybe he was just the closest, or maybe the man had it in for him-, the gun was pointed right at his chest. The fair-haired man closed his eyes, as though cringing away from the gunshot he knew was about to come, and just as he pulled the trigger, someone screamed. Somehow, maybe with adrenaline, he'd heard some pretty impressive stories about the stuff, the black-haired girl had gotten between him and the armed, fair-haired man.
It hadn't been anything like the movies, Robin could remember that much crystal clearly: she didn't look around, dazed and confused, or say something quirky or memorable and stagger to her death. She just…collapsed. She gave a strangled, groaning gasp, and fell face-first onto the smooth tile floor, unmoving. Robin watched her fall, but stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to understand what had just happened.
Luckily, his team reacted quickly. The man didn't have time to shoot again –heck, he probably hadn't even realized that he'd missed- before Raven's dark magic enveloped the gun and ripped it out of his hands, taking it apart expertly. Robin, feeling oddly detached from his body, his situation, heard the pieces clatter to the floor. Starfire gave an angry shout and the last man fell unconscious with a bloody nose and a soon-to-be black eye. That was where they were presently.
"Robin?" Starfire's hand touched his shoulder, snapping him back to reality, and he shrugged it off. "Robin, please-"
"She's dead." His voice sounded flat and emotionless, even to him. Robin tore his eyes away from the girl's motionless body, looking up at Starfire's brimming green eyes. She bit her lip, nodding a little. "My God, Starfire; she's dead." He looked back at the girl, disbelief still coloring his tone even as he realized what had happened, tainting the horror that made his voice crack. She was dead, and he wasn't; the idea was so perverse. How had he let this happen? The red haired alien girl snaked her arm across his shoulders to comfort him, and this time he turned into her embrace, accepting the pitying hug.
"Robin," she murmured, "there is nothing you could have-" She was cut off by a sudden groan, followed quickly by coughing and a weakly muttered curse.
The two heroes turned, eyes and mask lenses wide with surprise. The black-haired girl was…moving. Shaking slightly, she lifted herself off the ground, coughing violently. Sitting cross-legged in front of a pool of her own blood, she spat a mouthful of crimson and a bullet out into her hand. "Ugh, gross," she said, making a disgusted face and tipping the bullet out of her hand and onto the smooth tile floor. She looked up, around at the faces that stared at her from every direction, some terrified, some thrilled, others thunderstruck. "Man, that was way stupid…"
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. I haven't even seen them all yet.
This will probably only be two or three chapters long; but it's not over yet. Please tell me how Robin turned out; this is basically an exercise in writing him.
Thank you for reading!
…SnowFallsSlow…