YJ: You alright kid? -malin-j
You can consider this a dream sequence or a simulation on Megan's half if it'll make it more canon, but I just needed to get this nightmare out of my head before I stayed up too late thinking about it again. Any logic in here that isn't sound, blame me for having absolutely no knowledge on these subjects.
Trigger Warnings: Many character deaths, shooting, gunmen.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.
When the fire alarm went off during fourth hour, the students at Gotham Academy reacted like every other school did. Some kids looked skyward and sent thanks for a relief to their mind-numbing boredom, some hit their desks and called out a loud, "Really?!" over the time they'd lose for their homework, some pretended it was an actual fire and played it like a big deal with panicked screams, but most were simply indifferent either way. It was a fire drill. They were as common as the school uniform.
Most kids slipped their phones into their jacket pocket, hem of their skirt in the case of the girls, and they all made their ways down the hall with a trained unison to their step. Just outside of the math hallway, Dick caught up with Barbara and offered her a little grin, oblivious to the utility belt he had left back in shop class.
"How's… Algebra... going?" he asked slowly, brow creasing as he fought to remember if that was the class she actually had this hour.
Her smirk made his shoulders slump.
"It went fine. Biology though, is ah, a little slow today. Like someone I know," she poked fun and he stuck out his tongue.
"I was an hour off. Give me a break!" he rubbed his neck with a little laugh.
"Up all night again?"
The fifteen year old gave a little shrug, "Little bit. Team had a session and Bruce wanted to make sure I understood it all."
The redhead gave a sore smile, under the impression that 'the Team' was a wrestling group outside of school. She patted her friend's shoulder softly.
"It's good that he supports you, but don't let him forget that you're human," she reminded the ebony.
Dick didn't need the reminder. Wally could speed his way out, Conner could hulk-smash—hell, even Artemis had an arrow in her sling that could get her out in no time. He had his belt, but to an extent. His humanity would always drag the team down. They always assured him that he was definitely one of their best, but he wouldn't have it. Pity never sat well with him.
"No, no, I needed it. Easy drills like that I should just breeze through, but…" his nose scrunched, the faintest pain in his gaze before he gave a smile and dropped the subject, "So, we're supposed to be making a chair of sorts in shop and I was thinking of making something for Alfred. You've met him, right?"
Barbara gave a nod, smiling fondly. "Sweet old man; I need to get one of my own. Any ideas yet?"
The fifteen year old rubbed his neck, fingers soft on a healing scar from a stray arrow.
"Well, I was thinking of making him a rocking chair. Something classic looking, get some nice design in the back… but Cahill's saying we have to make just a plain chair. I was thinking of getting something to replace his—," he trailed off, brow creasing at the sudden halting of the crowd, "What's going on?"
The classmen in front of them were stuck in a stand still for the most part, their chatter for the most part done with. Dick joined the kids in front of him in hopping to his toes to try and see over the crowd, but his height failed him. The wail of the alarm wasn't helping either.
"Can you see anything?" he looked over at his friend as he fell flat-footed, finding her trying to peer over the crowd, too.
Barbara craned her neck desperately, but her added height didn't have any benefits at this point. She fell flat again, heaving a little sigh.
"Can't see anything but some panicky freshmen," she gave a little frown, leaning and using his shoulder as an arm rest before he shrugged her off, "I'm thinking it's that Ashley girl having a seizure again. Everything triggers her these days. I heard she went off in the art room because of the light on her hot glue gun."
The ebony raised an eyebrow, swallowing down a smile in fear of being found rude.
"That's why they held everyone back? I thought someone got a flesh wound or something! Christ, she's been doing this since… fifth grade. You'd think they'd be adjusted to it by now."
She gave a nod of agreement, giving a shrug. "That's what Marcus said anyway."
Dick scrunched up his nose.
"You still talk to him?" he disapproved, arms going over his chest.
Barbara swatted them down with a little grin, shaking her head.
"Not like that. He was a dick, I know better. It's hard not to hear his big mouth."
The shorter was about to remark how she must've liked that big mouth of his when a sudden scream erected him to the posture of a soldier with his hand to his gun. The panic to his eyes when he realized his utility belt wasn't on him was immediate. He felt Barbara's eyes on him, the confusion apparent in the posture change, but he had bigger concerns. Any suspicions he had grew when a gunshot rang out through the hall and the screams outweighed the alarm. The crowd around him surged and he knew they were looking at a corpse and a riot. He looked to Barbara and grabbed her eyes and hands at the same moment, gaze and grip hard.
"Get to the janitor's closet by the copy room. There's a vent behind the vacuum cleaners—go through it and get to your uncle. Tell him to put the signal up. We've got a code X23."
As he turned and started to bolt, she latched onto his wrist and stared in horror.
"Dick..?" she breathed.
He wasn't Dick now, though. Even without the costume, this was Robin, and he had people to save. A little nod was all he could give her before he ducked his way through the crowd, feeling her right on his heels.
"Where are you going?" she hissed, unheard above the screams.
"Get to your uncle!" he yelled to her, making for the stairs.
As he hit the third step in a single bound with a crowd enveloping him, a booming voice cut the air and he froze in step.
"You're all going to make your way out here or we're going to shoot every last one of you."
Every drop of blood in his veins seemed to freeze at once, especially as three shots went off without a break. The screams that followed assured him of three new corpses. He could still sneak up… maybe… The crowd made it impossible and he was hustled forward with them, features slowly hardening to stone. Kids around him crumpled and sobbed into their palms, but he seemed to have been sucked dry of any emotion, up until a trembling hand slipped into his.
He looked over, brow giving the faintest crease, feeling his heart shatter as he saw that the only thing keeping Barbara from sobbing was the firm hold her teeth had on her lip. The tears were slow and sticky on her cheeks.
"Babs," he squeezed her hand, face a crease from becoming stone again.
He had been afraid before, but now he had a whole other thing to fear for. Human, maybe, but still a hero. He could help. He could save her.
"Alright, I need you to listen very closely to what I say in the next two minutes. It'll save your life," he said clearly, watching her expression carefully.
Her other hand went up to cover her mouth, chin wrinkling in a tremble. She nodded regardless, blinking another tear down. They walked through until the crowd stopped, giving Dick a good view of what was going on. Six men stood at the doors, weapons in hand. Outside, more could be seen.
58, Dick would write on his later report.
They seemed to be sorting the kids to two separate ends of the yard with no particular pattern, features hidden by a cliché ski mask of sorts. Before he could analyze much farther than that, the redhead's defenses seem to shatter and she pulled him close, fingers gripping what they could of his jacket.
"Why aren't you afraid?" she gasped out, grip hardening as they moved forward.
Dick swallowed hard.
"I am," he murmured, just so she could hear it, "but showing it will only encourage them. Are you listening?"
His voice gave a little shake, but he brushed it off by taking a little breath and pressing his hands into fists. He knew that if he returned the hug, he would break right with her and he'd be as useless as before. With another gunshot hitting the air, he couldn't afford that. Waiting until she gave a shaky nod, he pressed his face into her shoulder and took a deeper breath.
"You have to humanize them. Right now… from what I can tell… we're just objects of power to them. Nothing more than a price tag, and you know what we do to those when we're done with them," he regretted saying it as she gave a harder sob, but it meant the point was across. "You need to remind them that you're a human, and that you have a life outside of this. You're a sophomore with a family, and probably the age of their siblings. You're the age they were once. Ask them if they thought they'd be doing this when they were your age. You have to remind them the... horror of what they're doing."
The ebony gave a pause and Barbara nodded roughly, heart fast enough to speed up his own to the point he felt dizzy. She was terrified. He had… he had to do something.
"Talk about your family and how they'll miss you. Ask about their family; if they know that they're doing this. I know you're scared, God, I am too, but we're going to make it through this."
One of her hands, shaky as it was, made its way to his neck and curled around the back. Its purpose became clear as she set a finger over his pulse.
"I'm going to save you, Babs," he promised, one hand lifting just enough to curl his fingers in the edge of her jacket, "You just have to trust me, okay?"
Even something as little as this, holding her jacket so feebly, had his chin trembling softly. He was beyond scared—terrified even—knowing that he couldn't save everyone here. People had died already. He could get himself out. With the Kevlar padding to his uniform, he could duck through the hallway and bolt out of the janitor's closet. As long as they didn't aim for the head, he'd be looking at nothing worse than some ugly bruises. That, and the corpses of all of his friends.
"How?" she barely whispered.
Dick didn't have an answer to give her. He just held on to her coat, eyes too watery for comfort, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as they reached the sorting.
"Just trust me," he mouthed and she gave a nod behind her palm, cheeks stained dark from her tears.
He held her eyes, seeing the final resignation in them, before he was shoved off to the opposite side of the court. As he was escorted down the line, he had to step over the bodies of people he had passed in the hall not long before.
I didn't know half their names, he would tell Black Canary later in a stunned silence.
Without his belt, he felt unbelievably useless. Going through the options as fast as his mind could turn them over, he knew he could take a few out before he was shot, but he didn't want to risk the lives of the rest of his classmates. An act of bravery would inspire the rest of them. That idea sat right on the line between inspiration to act and a sign to back down.
From the way he understood it, a gunman would grab his victim and talk to them until he decided to end the conversation with a shot to the forehead. Some kids took it with dignity, a shuddered sob but silence despite, and others would take off running in a desperate hope. Dick couldn't bring himself to watch, dizzy all the way through. This couldn't be real. It was his only explanation. The way it all felt like some sort of trance- how dead he felt? He just needed to wake up.
A glance across the yard assured him that Barbara was far from being selected, but it didn't calm his stomach in the slightest'; especially when he felt eyes on him. Looking up slowly, eyes empty, he found himself meeting the steady browns behind a ski mask. In a way, they seemed emptier than his own.
"You're not afraid?" the man asked in a gruff voice, clearly amused.
Dick looked him over quickly, having read him by the time he swallowed hard. Shotgun. Semi-automatic, from the looks of it. It wasn't a bad weapon for something like this, but it was the only one like it he had seen for the most part. Assault rifles, AK47s, mini guns... the kind of stuff they give you in video games, they were everywhere. Why had this one picked another weapon? It couldn't be a strive to be different. His mask was the same color and make as everyone else's. There had to be an ulterior motive. He didn't see any other bullets or clips tucked on his person, suggesting he only had the gun for decoration. Then why would he be here?
"Wouldn't you be?" the ebony returned, holding the gaze firmly.
Brown eyes flinched at the question, clearly not expecting it, before choosing to ignore it.
"Do you know why we're doing this?" he asked instead, jaw shifting in a sense to suggest he had pressed it tighter.
Dick took a breath. "Kids my age talk about doing stuff like this all the time, but I thought most people outgrew those fantasies past fifteen."
His intention to catch interest had only angered the man, causing his heart to falter in his chest, a chill sliding down to his feet. The nausea to rack his frame wasn't much of a help.
"You think this is just a fantasy?" the man challenged, raising the barrel to the flat of Dick's chest.
The ebony shut his eyes, a silent apology to Barbara across the yard for the bad advice, before he opened them and found the last little strain of hope in his chest. He could save someone. In another breath, he grabbed the butt of the shotgun and side stepped, jerking it back in the space he had once stood. The strength made the man stagger, enough for the fifteen year old to land an elbow behind his neck and sink him to the ground. As he fell, the shotgun was slid from his hands and swung like a bat at his head, carried full circle to the jaw of a man running up to rescue.
Save the innocents. Save the innocents.
As the second man was sent to the ground, Dick turned the gun and fired two rounds as quick as he could aim to the knees of two men with full intention of taking out a sobbing Mathlete to his right.
Be a spectacle. Encourage the crowds.
Catching the eyes of a classmate beside him, finger extended in warning, he turned in time to catch the barrel of a gunman with his sights set straight on his head. He used it to swing himself up over the man, falling back and hooking his knees over the bulky shoulder. Gravity assisted enough to crumple the man backwards. When Dick hit the ground, he noticed the blood soaking through the white of the man's shirt. He couldn't be more thankful for whatever this man had been stocking up that had stopped the bullets from going all the way through.
He thanked his human shield and dropped his legs back just enough to grab a new gun- just in case his was as empty as it was feeling- and slipped out from under the body, shooting the first flash of black to hit my peripheral once he turned. Before he could do anything else, a sharp crack filled his ears in time with a mind-numbing pain that dropped him to the ground, feeling as though his brain had liquified and was seeping out his ears.
The pain gave a spike as fingers tangled in his hair and yanked him up to his knees, tearing a whimper past his lips. The fingers pulled his head back up until he managed to open his eyes through the dizziness, seeing three guns aimed at him from three arms that all seemed to pin wheel.
"Who do you think you are?" a voice asked, a little too loud for the fifteen year old's liking as he brought his hands up beside his head in a weak surrender.
He wanted to think of something snarky to say, something to go out golden on, but there wasn't a single gunshot in the background right now and he'd never been more proud.
"M'just some kid," he muttered, a weight returning the wet blue eyes.
The hand in his hair released as his eyes fluttered to stay open, trying to hide the worst of his nausea behind the ringing in his ears.
"Well, kid, you put up a hell of a fight. Sorry you won't be able to catch the rest of your friends dying."
Dick's chest tightened and he managed to get his eyes open, fingers giving a little tremble. He was going to get shot regardless. If it was unavoidable, he was going to make sure that he didn't just sit there and take it.
"That's alright," he bit his lip, finding his stability, and he acted.
He grabbed the man's gun, his arm a steady enough post, and he used it to swing his feet forward into the man's knees. The impact was a lot harder than he'd expected, or maybe the man had really been off guard, but he was knocked entirely off his feet and hit the grass. Dick took his gun in that moment and swung it at his head with every last bit of strength he had.
As he collapsed to his hands, bile raising high in his throat, he knew immediately that he'd have the other gunmen on him, but he was okay with that. He would die a hero, and that's how he would have it.
He wasn't given the chance. Before anyone could get a barrel aimed on him, two bright arms lifted him up and he was moving faster than the ringing in his ears. A little peek confirmed a prayer as he found Wally's face scrunched up anxiously behind the yellow cowl. They circled the yard once, charging a few men down before it was clear that moving wasn't a good idea on one half of the duo's part. When the speedster noticed, he took a detour and parked them both behind the entrance gates.
Dick lifted his eyes and looked through the blur of the world, finding a bat signal in the sky and a flash of green that he assumed was Green Lantern. The hero needed a hero. Wouldn't it figure?
Wally looked down at him, heartbroken straight to the last freckle, and offered to let his friend up without saying word. At even the idea, the arms he had around the other's neck tightened and he curled the legs thrown over the other's lap to the point his knees began to hurt. The redhead took the hint and put a feeble arm around the ebony.
"We came as fast as we could," he spoke softly, rubbing his friend's back.
The fifteen year old seemed more statue than man, staring distantly at the pulse hammering barely inches from his eyes.
"You... did great out there, Dick. Don't blame yourself for this," he went on, brows pulling in a lot tighter as the face didn't change.
His best friend was traumatized- he had seen the face enough on survivors he had pulled out of burning buildings or bank robberies. He had just watched some of his friends get shot and had been helpless to save them. The whole reason he wasn't breaking apart was because he was as broken as he could be at the moment. There wasn't anything you could say to that.
"Barbara's safe. Superman lifted her out with as many as he could carry while you distracted the gunmen. You saved as many as you could."
The gloved hand stopped its path and simply held, fingers curling light in the fabric of the suit jacket. Sounds of a fight were still coming from inside, but the victor was obvious from the start. An ambulance roared in the distance.
Emerald eyes lowered, but the fifteen year old hadn't moved, aside from the fact that his eyes were now softly shut. The longer the redhead stared, the more he saw. A tremble in the chin, faint flickers in the eyes as they fought to keep from screwing up tightly and a flinch in the wrist as fingers fought from grasping tightly. The longer he looked, the more it hurt.
"Dick," he murmured, leaning his head so his cheek rested on top of the other's head, "It's okay. You're only human."
That's all it took. Without any further warning, the fifteen year old let out a broken little sob and turned his face in towards the other's shoulder where he proceeded to crumble down past a fine ash.
Yes, he was only human; and he blamed this humanity for the friends he would never see again. He may have been a sidekick, but he was only a human sidekick.
-F.J. III