Hurt to Save
Victor Van Heiring (co-written by, Alexnandru Van Gordon)
Victor: YAY! I'm actually writing a story!
Alex: Don't get too excited.
Victor: Why not?
Alex: No one might read it.
Victor: I never pictured you as mean before…Anyhow, hello everybody. If you somehow stumbled across this story than you have the choice to either read and review, just read, or pretend I don't exist.
Alex: (rubs temples) Rule of thumb—don't tell your readers what to do.
Victor: What? O.o? Those really are the only choices.
Alex: Still…
Victor: Whatever. Okay, on to noting the important stuff: this story has supporting characters (that's the big word here) that are OC's (original characters of my…okay, 'Alex's' design), but they don't dictate the story. They play somewhat important parts, but this continues to be a fight between Boy Wonder vs. "you-know-who" (and no, it's not Lord Voldemort. Its ol' one-eye) so just relax. I hate 'Mary Sues' anyway so don't worry about me (us) creating any of those either. Really, the OC's are only there to get the problem out in the open with a little mystery veiled over it…Now what?
Alex: Summary, Disclaimer, (any other comments you want to write,) and finally the actual chapter.
Victor: YAY—gotcha!...But how do you write a summary?
Alex: (sigh) Just give me the keyboard…
SUMMARY: A life is a life no matter who the person is. That's what makes saving them so hard. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Robin has to decide whose life comes first when Slade puts the pressure on…
Victor: Wow…I like that.
Alex: Okay—now you write the Disclaimer.
Victor: Yay! My turn!
DISCLAIMER: Do I own this? HA! Trust me when I say the world would be ending if I did.
Victor: Now I start?
Alex: Yep. Go crazy.
CHAPTER ONE: A plan…
There were days when autumn felt colder than winter. The trees continuously lost their leaves, their stiff black branches stretching up toward the moon in the dead of the night, and the wind whistled an agonized tune that shook the shingles and wisped through the eaves. The parks tended to be peaceful. The weekend nights tended to be crazy when downtown city was concerned, but tonight there was no one but himself strolling along the park pathway past the lake and into a small clearing where six benches lined up next to each other to form a circle. Tall dark trees loomed forward from the outside of the circle, almost leaning down toward him as he took his seat. This was the second last meeting of the ten scheduled. He only had to meet with the man last time before he could ignore the fact that he was going to bring a dreadful end to many lives.
Just one more after this…
There was a rustling sound in the bushes off to his left which prompted him to his feet. He was surprised to see a petty thief fly into the clearing, hitting the pavement hard and falling unconscious upon contact.
Perhaps the park wasn't the most peaceful place after all.
Swallowing hard, the old man stumbled back. Drawing his long black coat tighter around his body, arms crossed for warmth, he watched closely as his employer stalked out from the shadows into plain sight. If his height and muscle size wasn't enough to scare a person half to death, the half-black/half-orange mask, complimented with just one eye, was enough to stop anyone dead in their tracks. The petty thief was a fool to think he could jump the mercenary.
"I trust you brought it?" The dark figure asked, holding out a hand to take the next part of his machine.
Dr. River, shoving a shaky hand into the front pocket of his coat, took out the disk and stepped only close enough to put it in his hand. Then he backed away a few steps, keeping his distance.
The man looked down at the disk, examining it for a moment before his cold gray eye shot up to stare at Dr. River. "If you were a wise man, Dr, you would leave the west side of the city the day after our last meeting."
"That…that soon?" He stuttered; horrified at how fast time flew by.
The man said nothing. He turned is back to Dr. River and started back into the shadows, pausing only once to glance off into the thick forest on his left…then he was gone.
And in the forest, hand pressed against a tree trunk, stood another dark figure just a little ways out of the clearing's view.
"Dance, dance, said the man to the puppet." The second figure whispered. "Dance, dance, 'til your feet bleed red…"
-R-
Waking up was never a problem for him. Getting around his friends and their many questions of "Did you stay up all of last night again?" was a different matter entirely. So what if he was an insomniac? At least he wasn't making plans to destroy the world while everyone was asleep.
Getting up, he had something to eat, did a little training, said hello to everyone in the tower, separated himself from the rest of his friends and locked himself up in his "office" (Victor: Neither of us knows what he calls it…sorry…any suggestions are welcome…). Then he rolled out any information he had on unsolved cases and got to work…
Until there was a knock on the door.
At first he wanted to pretend it was just his imagination, but the pounding continued until he trudged over to the door and opened it. Today…he felt like Raven.
"Yes?" He asked, staring at Beast Boy. Of all people, why Beast Boy.
"Hey…" BB started, trying to look over Robin's shoulder into the room. "Whatcha do'in?"
"What I always do. Work."
"Um…can I help?"
Robin raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "You want to help?...What did you do this time?"
BB didn't have to answer that. Right then Raven yelled his name in the background and there was a sound coming from the kitchen that resembled a microwave exploding.
"Please! It's only so she won't find me. I promise to leave in an hour…"
An hour with BB…
Robin decided to humor him anyway. Besides, it'd be considered homicide if he left Beast Boy in Raven's hands, and what would that make him then?
"Fine…" He sighed, stepping aside to let the boy in before closing the door behind him. "Just don't break anything."
"Sure thing…"
He took his seat back at the large table seat out in the middle of the room, rummaging with one of his old weapons. There was something wrong with the charge…
"What can I do?"
Robin didn't look up. "Read."
"Read what?"
Still staring at the faulty weapon, he reached for a file of the latest newspaper clips and tossed it across the table to BB. "Try…and find…something…"
"Like secret messages about Slade's plans?"
Robin paused. "Yeah…sure…See if you can find anything like that…" He highly doubted that though. He'd been through the clips a thousand times and so far he came up with nothing…
There was silence for a long while. Robin was left in his peace to fix his weapons and BB seemed to be taking his work seriously. He had pieces of the clips spread out everywhere on his side of the table, placing them together like a loose puzzle. Then he hit the table.
"I found something!"
Huh?
"Look!" Beast Boy ran to his side of the table and waved a clip in his face. "I'm serious, come look at this!"
"I already have." He sighed. "And I've found nothing." But he reached out anyway and took the newspaper clip from his friend, looking it over. It was from the 'Letter's to the Editor', written by a Dr. River who specialized in a variety of things. There was something odd, however, but Robin had gone over it before. Dr. River continuously wrote articles containing subjects on capital punishment, something he wasn't big on anyway.
"I've seen this before." He handed it back to BB. "What's new about it?"
"Alone, it isn't much…" BB started, grabbing Robin's arm and dragging him to the other side of the table. He put the clip back in its place among the many he found and pointed to the first few letters. "But see—put them together and this is what you get: S.L.A.D.E.H.A.S.B.O.M.B.T.U.E.S."
…He had to admit…that was odd…
-Unknown-
"This isn't about games. Are you sure you heard them right?"
It was cold, it was windy, and he had a long list of better things to do than wait outside in the middle of a park forest waiting for some insane asylum patient to show up and tell him her news of the day in series of long metaphors.
Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he shivered once and stepped closer to the tree, trying to see way up there on the higher branches past the flaming leaves.
"Marionette! I'm talking to you!"
"I hear…and I listen…" He saw something move. "I'm thinking…"
"About what?"
"The figure…the second figure…He's not nice to play with…"
He rolled his eyes. "Like I care. Everyone knows Slade is evil—so just tell me what you heard!"
"I already did!" She hissed. "The man is building a puzzle, but he doesn't have all the pieces. One more night of spoken words and you will find this Riverman floating beneath the bridge."
He knew she was talking about the bomb in the first sentence, but the second one would take some time for interpretation. She was either telling him that this Dr. River would have one more meeting with Slade before the bomb was ready and then he would either A) Take a boat to who knows where; B) Go into hiding; or C) (and this one made more sense to him) Be killed by his employer since Slade was not likely to trust anyone for long.
"I thought you were supposed to kill the 'Riverman' when you saw him last night." He shouted up to her. "What happened to that, Mary?"
There was a pause. "The second figure came too quick…He frightens me."
"That never stopped you before. I thought you liked things that scared you."
"Yes. He is fascinating too, but a robin can't fight the hawk. He killed a sparrow already tonight, or had the intentions of such in any case…"
That would mean the thief they found knocked-out on the pavement.
"Will you ever confront him?" He asked.
"…Should the need ever arise, then I would give it my all. But my limbs are rope compared to his and I know my darkest hour would be timed closely by none other than that same man…And perhaps that isn't such a bad idea…"
"Suicidal now, are we?" He muttered.
"I said before, I hear and listen. Don't take my words lightly."
"Maybe if you would learn to speak in plan English, we wouldn't have this problem. Now come down from there. We're leaving."
"Ah yes…the master says 'Dance—dance!' again. Should I bow before the curtain or will there be another performance some other night?"
He sighed. "…We'll talk about this later. If you're hungry, then I suggest you get down here before I start counting back from ten."
"Hungry…Yes." He heard her laugh—or cackle more like. It was the laugh of the devil. "Will you feed me my food, or shall I nibble on your dull plates? Why not let me add a little salt…"
He only understood the first sentence, and even that was enough to flare his temper again.
"Mary! I'm serious!"
"…It was worth a try…Perhaps some day I will cook for you. Then, maybe, you will acquire my taste."
His stomach flipped. "I highly doubt that…" He murmured.
"I am coming!" She shouted before the leaves rustled. "If I should do my job better than you asked—and in the means of far exceeding what you asked—I think a bet should be made. Indeed…you will taste my food not before long…"
Good grief…this was going to be one hell of a week…
-V-
Victor: Further descriptions will be given, but for now I want to let your minds roam.
Alex: But for clarification, this "Marionette" is indeed…insane…to a degree. But is she really? We'll let you be the judge of that based on what your morals and beliefs are. These two new characters you just met were the OCs—but, as said before—
Victor:--they're not the main characters. They're just there to make the plot more interesting. But besides that—time is short and we have to get going. I hope I interested you in one way or another—so be nice! This is a first try…
Alex: We'll both see you guys later on my account. Until then—
Signing out,
Victor Van Heiring,
And
Alexnandru Van Gordon
Alex: Wow…it really feels weird signing last…
Victor: Mwah ha ha ha! You are at my mercy!
Alex: -.-…Oh joy…