The Friendship Experiment

I can't believe I let it happen.

It's the kind of vague thought you'd expect to have after you first wake up. It's certainly not something you want to think about when you're fully conscious.

Kneeling here in the shattered glass, rain bearing down on me from outside, I press a hand to my throbbing temple. I can't believe I let them down. I've practically abandoned them. I stare out at where the helicopter flew away, but I know it's not coming back. I close my eyes and ball my fist against my forehead.

I've lost my team.

I've lost my friends.

And I've lost the fight.

No.

I will not leave it at this. I won't stand for it. I won't allow myself to walk away and let them die. I have to go and save them. It's what a hero should do. It's what a friend should do. I will go help them.

I know what I have to do.

I go to my room. It, like me, bears the brunt of the fight. My bed is still toppled over, newspapers torn off the walls, my window shattered. It doesn't matter now. All I care about is in the vault.

A long time ago, when I was a lot less sensible, I kept the Red X suit inside the vault. When that…left my possession, I used it to store my latest toys. Now, I'm heading in to get everything I know I'll need to save my friends.

One thing to understand about me is that I'm not partial to sudden change. It prompts idiotic errors, and I am a perfectionist. However, I'm willing to admit that the probability of screwing this up, high though it may be, is what drives me to gear up.

I open up the glass case holding my new uniform. After wearing this one for so many years, it feels strange to know that I'll be putting it away, maybe for good. I raise my hands to my chest, feeling the silky fabric of my cape before pulling it off my body. Soon, I've peeled off the whole uniform, and I'm putting on my new one. I replaced my green pants with black ones that have a red stripe down the side of both legs. My shirt is now plain red and sleeveless, tightly hugging my frame. I tug on black leather gloves and boots. In place of the cape, I now have a black jacket of similar material. The collar is short and the sleeves just cover a bit of the backs of my hands. The inside is lined with gold, and I kept the strip of gold going in a 'V' over my chest and shoulders.

The hardest thing to put on is the new mask. It's really not that different, just a bit of white on the edges. It still makes me choke up, though.

I take off my old mask, but then I stop. I can see myself in the mirror on the far side of the vault. Any other person would see a black-haired, gray-eyes boy who looks like an impish ball of trouble.

I see a guy who's ticked at losing team.

I place the new mask over my eyes and take a breath. "I'm coming," I whisper. "I swear I'm coming for you."

The instant the words leave my mouth, I know they're the truth. I know I'll honor this quiet commitment to fullest. I will fulfill my oath.

I go to the garage. Oddly, it's the only part of Titan's Tower that hasn't been wrecked. I sweep the cover sheet off the R-Cycle, loving the gleaming, polished look of the red-and-black paint job. I pull the helmet over my head and rev it up. A reverberating rumble fills the garage. I speed out the open door and over the bridge, into Jump City.

It's not that hard to find the trail. I can clearly see the marks of a struggle throughout downtown. I can tell where Starfire's beam hit from the blackened bricks and ripped-up pavement.

My heart wrenches. Starfire…

I never told her. But I love her. I love her more than anyone else, more than my parents, more than Batman, even. Up until I met her, I thought no one could surpass Bruce Wayne in my heart.

A tear escapes and runs down my face. I won't let her die.

Most people who recognize the R-Cycle cheer as they see me. They know what happened. They support me. They're proud of me. They want me to know.

I already know, though. I've known since I came that Jump City wanted me, welcomed me. I have been hated by the people I save. This place is not like other places. It doesn't accuse it's heroes of committing the crimes they work hard to prevent.

I'm starting think my friends had help in destroying the city. I pass the blown-out windows of shops and stores, downed buildings, and smashed, smoldering cars that line the streets downtown. I suck in every detail, not wanting it to blur for me. Water flies up around the wheels of the R-Cycle, forced out of the puddles. I swerve to avoid a water pipe sticking straight up out of the street.

Even though Gotham City is my hometown, I still consider Jump City to be my city.

And I won't watch it burn.

I just barely miss slamming into someone else's bike. He and I both swing around to face each other, swearing. My eyes narrow at the familiar face with its taunting, mischievous smirk. Johnny Rancid despises me. Most of these guys do. But he's the only one who's ever caused me to be in an accident and he won't let me forget.

"Oh, look," he says. "It's Bird-Boy."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not in a good mood tonight," I mutter. I start to ride away.

Rancid cuts me off with an unholy grin. "I'm not finished with you, Bird-Boy," he growls.

He starts to say something else, but I've already tackled him off his bike by now. I pull back my fist and slam it into his jaw, over and over. I yank him to his feet and kick him into a nearby wall. I grab a fistful of his shirt, connect a nice roundhouse with his nose, and throw him into an alley. I handcuff him to a fire escape.

"Stay out of my way."

I sound so fiercely demonic that Rancid just nods meekly.

I ride away, following a trail of clues that seem to be almost designed to resonate with me. Or, you know, cause me to spin off the road. If I have to dodge one more pipe, I'll scream.

People clear the way for me as I rocket down each street. They move their cars and motorcycles and press up against the buildings when they see me coming.

But they all cheer me on.

I don't know what to do when the trail ends. I just sit there for a minute, letting my brain process it. Have I reached my destination of fallen into a trap?

I stare up at what was clearly the Jump City Public Library. My friends were here, too. I can tell because of the wreckage that surrounds it. I finally decide to go in and see what damage was done. At least I can look for something to lead me on.

I have no trouble getting in. All I have to do is kick in the door. My footsteps echo through the ruin, making me twitchy. I can't deny that this place looks creepy. The skylight is half-busted-out, every bookshelf in disarray (if not toppled or destroyed), and all the books strewn over the floor. Lights flicker above me, on the second level. It gives the shadows the appearance of lifelike movements. I can see that the only thing still semi-intact is a cupid statue in the center of the ground floor. The head is missing.

I swallow hard, remembering what had happened back home almost an hour and a half ago. I remember mentally berating myself over my paranoia, a split second before confirming I was right. I screamed out some form of a warning before diving under the coffee table.

And then, the helicopter smashed through the window.

Normally I'd try to make myself less noticeable. I'm not that flamboyant. But I let the intruders see me, wielding whatever I could find as a makeshift weapon.

I know who sent them- Slade.

I hate that man so, so much.

My reverie is interrupted by a cord wrapping around my neck. I'm jerked backward into a sold metal body. Without thinking, I raise my hands. First, I clutch at the tightening cord. Then I jab blindly behind myself with my elbow. It slams into the robot's leg, and I rasp out a swear word. Freaking idiot, I think. It's a metal robot!

My vision is going dim as I start to get dizzy. I have to act fast. Summoning all my strength, I throw my whole body backwards, ramming the robot into the floor. It releases the cord, and I roll away quickly.

I leap to my feet, brandishing two wicked sai swords. I see more robots melting out of the shadows.

They were waiting for me.

I feel the white-hot rush of adrenalin pouring into my veins. It gives me strength. It feeds my anger, my frustration. I don't hesitate a moment longer. I charge into battle.

These robots are smart, and fast, and strong. Apparently, they see my muscles tense before I jump on them. Unfortunately, they don't know my chief fighting style: Improvisation and unpredictability.

I crack a robot in the face with the hilt of a sai. I whirl and stab another in the chest, tearing out its motherboard. All the while, I'm watching them, searching for weaknesses in their predictable attack. They seem specially designed, almost a new model. As I fight, they're watching me, too. They're trying to identify patterns in my combinations of moves, trying to detect a regular system of attack.

I kick off from the shoulders of a freshly decapitated robot and execute a flawless back-hand-spring. I land a good, safe distance from the biggest mob and fling three black discs at them. I turn away as they explode, sending robot parts flying everywhere.

Am I safe now?

No. I hear another one approaching behind me. I kick its feet out from underneath it. It flops onto its back. A quick, downward stab finishes it.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see four others lingering in the background, observing me. Two materialize alongside me. I plant a sai in each, pull out their weapons, and fire.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

The last four robots drop to the floor. I go over and examine them. Holes about a half-inch in diameter gape in their foreheads. Disgusted, I toss aside the guns. This means they had a kill order. They could've shot me at any moment.

So why didn't they? a voice in my head snaps.

I don't have a definite answer. Either they're too slow handling weapons, or someone told them not to fire.

I retrieve my sais and slide them into their sheaths. That was a completely pointless fight. I've destroyed the robots, yeah, but I still have no clue whatsoever as to how I'm supposed to find my friends. I'm at the end of the road.

But there's got to be something here.

I start turning the library inside out, searching for a clue, any clue. The first place I look is anywhere you could effectively conceal a note or something. Next I look in more obvious places. Then, I search in plain sight. By the time I sweep both floors, I still have nothing.

My mind burns with confusion and indignation. I don't know what to do next. I'm totally lost.

Batman taught me to observe my surroundings well. He used an old saying when telling me how to dissect a crime scene: "If it's not hidden in secret, it's hidden in plain sight."

In plain sight…

I examine the floor beneath my feet. I'm walking on shards of glass laid out on the ground in lines and curves.

I run up to the remains of a stairwell. I gave over the edge of the second floor. I was right. The glass is arranged in a message. I can see the tracks of my feet through the words. It's tricky, but I make this out:

Robin-909 N. Nation St.

/AN/ ATTENTION! This amazing story wasn't written by me! It was written by my amazing BFF, Abby! Please leave a review and tell her how wonderful it is! She thinks that all of her works are bad until someone besides me tells her they're good!