"No. NO! This isn't…This can't…am I still screaming?"
Robin shoved his fist into his gaping mouth, biting down to try silence the distraught sound echoing around the dark room. After a few deep breaths he felt himself quieten down, with only the occasional sobbing sound slipping between his lips.
He didn't dare move, a subliminal fear believing that if his eyes were to leave the corpse it would reanimate and take to him, even with its limb no longer recognisable. Blood seemed to cover ever surface in sight, from the low riding ceiling and his body to the metal blades protruding from the open panel in the floor, the cause of the violent splattering.
He could feel that each time his mind tried to put its-self back together it would shatter once more in seconds. He couldn't tell what amount of time had passed, whether he had slept or even closed his eyes, only slight awareness told his brain to empty his stomach without moving, leaving it to drip down his chin and onto his shaking arms. All that was keeping him from blacking out was pain.
Pain of every kind imaginable.
…...
He said he'd be back in a few hours. It was a small mission that Batman had felt the boy could handle at his level of experience. But it'd been days, with no word from the dark knight or the Justice league about his situation. The young heroes questioned and speculated about countless situations that could have led the dynamic duo the enforce radio silence, but no one was prepared for the truth delivered by a solemn faced Superman.
"No way! That's impossible!"
"Oh god no…."
"Wait, what about…is he okay?"
"If said by anyone else, I would not have believed it…"
"Is Batman really dead?"
…...
He didn't like moving, not when each little jolt lit a fire on his nerves, causing him to arch his head back and leaving him to choke on his own tongue. This is turn led to more jostling, more pain, and an unending circle of torment.
Even on the cusp of death, instinct and training kicked in, and began to sub conscientiously study his surroundings. He was moving for one thing, carried bridal style judging from the pressure on his legs and back. As for who was carrying him, their arms were thick, and their chest board. He linked the felling back to one time when he had fallen asleep in the cave, he had woken to Bruce, he…he…oh god Bruce.
The fall again, like the breaking of glass his mind scattered. He arched his back, stretching out his arms, swinging his legs….shit his legs!
His dry mouth could do no more than screech a whisper as he tried to flee, escape from the torment of his mind. His carrier was caught off guard at the outburst, but the strong arms held on, determined to get him to safety.
It was the lease Clark could do for being too late for his friend.
…...
The five teen heroes spoke in hushed voices between themselves. The cave seemed far too big and all too cold as the horror realisation lingered around their heads. It was no joke, and from parts of the conversations Connor picked up from the league, there would be no miraculous revival. Finally Black Canary arrived at mount justice, followed closely by Red Arrow and Martian Manhunter. Silence reigned as the team waited for news of their friend.
"Well," Canary looked around the group with a sad sigh, "His condition is very bad as you've probably worked out."
No one could keep quiet any longer.
"How bad is it?!"
"What exactly happened!?"
"How did it happen?
"Are we aloud to see him?"
"We just want some answers!"
Dinah lifted her hands in mock surrender, calling for calm from the teens.
"At this time we're only letting those closest to Robin in to see him." She could see the expectancy in all of their eyes, but she knew they wouldn't like it. "As of now I'm afraid Kid Flash is the only one permitted to see him."
Superboy and M'gann appeared to be confused, and Artemis looked down right furious, but Aqualad remained calm as ever and stepped forward.
"Of course, we understand." He turned to Wally, who looked about read to burst. It was such a rare occasion for the speedster not to be talking or moving about.
Black Canary smiled at Kaldur and then gestured for Wally to follow her to the Zeta tubes.
…...
As the two exited the zeta tubes the young speedster looked around their new location with wide eyes. The white walls were that of an unknown hospital, one that they had zetaed directly into, without as much as a glance for the few nurses going about the business. Canary saw his confusion.
"This is the league's most trusted hospital. If ever one of us are in need of serious medical attention, this is where we would come." She then handed him a piece of paper, "This is his room number, it should be just down this hall."
With a sad smile she returned to the zeta tube, leaving Wally alone. Despite his building nerves he laid off using his speed to reach the room, as she said it was only at the end of the hall.
As he pushed open the door he gaped, and in seconds joined the Wayne family butler and head doctor at the bed side, aiding the desperate efforts to pry his best friend's hands away from the smaller boy's neck. After several long seconds passed they released Robin's vice grip, earning an anguished cry from the injured boy, who curled his hands into his chest. The smaller child pulled away coughing before retreating to Alfred's side.
Wally could feel his heart painfully throbbing in his chest. He knew the younger boy to be Jason, Bruce's new ward who had just begun training with the dark knight, and in turn practically Dick's new little brother. So what had happened to cause the attack?
There was a deep sigh as the doctor injected what Wally assumed to be sedatives into the IV. As Robin's breathing steadied he turned to the rooms other occupants with sad eyes.
"Only the three of you?" Alfred gave a curt nod, "Very well. As far as physical injuries go it's mainly his legs. Everything up to his shins is shredded beyond repair and will need total reconstruction, and then there is dehydration and malnourishment. On the other side and as you just witnessed, there is quite a bout of psychological trauma present."
Wally looked down to Jason, who had one hand holding onto Alfred and the other resting on his neck. To lose a set of parents was one thing, but to lose the man who had loved and cared for them after the initial loss, it was downright heart shattering.
…...
"ROBIN!"
He had no time to move as the floor parted beneath him, leaving him stumbling and reaching for his partner. And the pain grabbed him, rotating metal blades tearing through tunic, flesh and muscle as they slowly swallowed his legs. He clamped his teeth down to quell his scream, but as quickly as he felt it, the immediate pain began to fade.
He rose up slightly before being harshly thrown to part of the floor that was still solid. His mind flattered at the change, trying to tear his thoughts away from his now bloodied lower half where his shredded legs folded awkwardly beneath him. The panic had sent his mind into shutdown, but there was no way he could afford that. Training took over to reboot his body.
First sense back was hearing, the endless drone of the multitude of blades whirring together and…grinding something? Then smell, mechanical oil mixing with blood and heated to create a stench similar to Megan's first attempts at cocking meat. Taste was metallic blood and the sting of bile, then feeling, drops of liquid rapidly hitting his face and arms like warm rain.
He knew it was all wrong, but he dared open him eyes to finally gauge the situation. In the centre of the square containing the blades was a body, torn beyond most people recognition, but Robin could tell, he knew.
Bruce.
The machines had obliterated his guardian's legs and arms, but were stuck grinding on his femurs and hip bone, snagging between pieces of Kevlar tunic. His face was featureless; all stolen by the hungry metal where the Bat's grand cape had swung over his shoulder and dragged his face down. The cowl had been pulled most of the way off, angling his head to stare directly at the boy. The body twitched, twisted and convulsed within the metal grip, eventually dragging it low enough to snatch at the utility belt and catch some batarangs to fling at the walls.
All in all it the corpse seemed to jeer at him, begging for the answer of his death.
And the only response Dick could manage was a mournful scream.
AN: I regret nothing. Seriously.