Hello All,
I welcome you and blah blah blah. If you dont already know, I am already working on a story, but i love you guys so much, I'm putting this out too. Its been playing in my head over and over and over and over, etc again, I just couldn't live with the pain anymore so I...published it! We all know (or if not, you do now) im a super hero fanatic and I love Robin...and Kid Flash...and Starfire...and...well everyone, so my initial instincts told me to publish this..so yeah...here it is.
A cocky laugh could be heard over all the gunshots and yelling. No one, but 5, knew that that meant the fight was almost over. Acting on instinct, the 5 tired teens made their way to the outskirts of the warehouse. If Robin was going to come and kick butt, he was going to need plenty of room.
Everyone kept fighting, yet glancing at the youngest member when he came in, taking out at least 5 men at a time. He came, dodged, punched, and kicked, all in several fluid motions. It was like watching a bull come and throw its riders to the side carelessly.
Within minutes, the floor was littered with knocked out men and discarded weapons.
"We still need to go after Bane," Artemis said, her voice frantic and rushed.
Instead of moving though, Robin dusted his dirty hands on his pants and motioned up with his head. Following his motion, the team looked up only to find Bane tied up and hanging unconscious by his arms.
So that's where he had disappeared to.
Everyone looked to Aqualad, who nodded his head, signaling the end of a mission. A completed, actually-gone-well, mission. With smiles on there faces they made their way out the door.
"Dude, that was sick!" Kid Flash said, hitting Robin on his shoulder.
Massaging his aching arm, Robin bumped Kid Flash back with his hip. It was a good night. No shots. No mishaps. And only a few minor bruises. Nothing a good, long, hot bath couldn't fix. Though it was Thursday and he had a ton of homework to complete, he couldn't wait to get home. Alfred would make his favorite, macaroni and cheese; Bruce would be home from work early; and the next day was Friday: young justice-spend-the-night-day.
Feeling in a good mood, he hoped on Kid Flash's back and held tight to his crazy red hair as the speedster ran around, pained by the force his head was pulled back by. The team watched, amused, as Robin jumped off Wally's back just before he steered Wally into the door of the bio-ship.
Rubbing his head, Wally playfully pushed Robin inside the bio-ship and jumped into one of the seats, its seat belts clicking itself.
Once the ship was in the air, Robin opened his holographic glove, calling an SOS to the nearest police so that they could come and pick of the left behind villains. Leaning back, Robin thought about all the things to look forwards to. Macaroni and cheese, Bruce being home, Alfred making cookies, a well gone mission, upcoming Friday, and a cave-sleepover. Even though they had only been a team for a few months, they were already a family and he looked forward to spending time with them.
Miss Martian was like the maternal older sister. Connor was a closed, but protective, older brother. Kaldur was the calm old brother and Artemis the sassy older sister. Of course Wally could switch between awesome best friend and retarded older brother as well. Robin had no problem seeing himself as a troublesome younger brother and a bit of a prankster.
He closed his eyes, smiling to himself as he heard Artemis and Wally argue over something juvenile and probably a waste of conversation. Those two fought more than anyone he knew, and yet it was so entertaining to watch. Artemis had a tendency to get violent as well, doubling the amusement. Of course, Kaldur had to be the one to try and calm the two down and Miss Martian had to be the one to try and tell Kaldur that his attempts were futile.
It wasn't until a loud slap was heard that everyone started talking. Kaldur speaking of the unnecessary-ness. Artemis saying how much Wally deserved the hit. Wally complaining about the hit. Connor talking about how useless all of their fighting was. Miss Martian trying to defend the reason Artemis slapped Wally. And of course, Robin's own laugh about the whole situation.
It wasn't until a ringing sounded that the noise and talking actually stopped. Everyone looked around, the source of the noise unknown until Robin jumped with a 'oh'. He must of forgotten to turn his phone off before the mission. He was just glad it didn't go off while he was fighting or hiding earlier; it would have blown his whole cover. Searching his numerous pockets, he finally found his phone and pressed the talk button.
"Hello?" he asked, odded out by whoever was calling him at 3:34 in the morning.
"Robin."
He knew that voice and a few things flashed in Robin's mind. 1) Batman was probably either at the cave or coming in from his patrol. 2) Bruce didn't sound like he was in desperate need of rescuing, he actually sounded kind of sorry. 3) What did Batman have to tell him that couldn't wait until the morning or until they both got home? And 4) Why was he calling him on his cell phone?
"Oh, hey Batman." Robin said, knowing that all eyes in the bio-ship were on him. "Whats up."
"Well...uh, where are you?"
"Me?" Robin asked "Im the ship. The bio-ship," he laughed "Why, need a ride?"
Miss Martian slowed the the ship abruptly, causing everyone to snap forward and then backwards. The flock of birds she had almost hit flew by, totally unaware that they just escaped death. She blew out a breath, purposely ignoring the look Artemis was giving her.
She tried not to, but it was a such an odd interaction when Robin talked to Bruce. It was as if they were telepathic and could read each others minds. She couldn't help but listen in as Robin spoke on the phone.
"My night?" Robin said, sounding excited "It was awesome. Kicked butt and won and-"
Miss Martian waited for Robin to continue, but Batman must of cut him off.
"Is there a specific reason you called me at 3:30 in the morning, Batman?" he asked, a bit his voice full of anticipation for the answer Miss Martian couldn't hear.
"So, your going to Russia?" Robin asked, unsuccessfully hiding the disappointment in his voice, from both the team and Batman.
"For how long?" no one missed the sadness in Robin's voice. Miss Martian hadn't know Batman for very long and even if she did, she doubted she would know much more about him than she already did, but him and Robin had a special kind of relationship. It was odd; the stone cold crusader and the witty prankster little brother.
"How long, Batman?" he asked again, his voice urgent and upset sounding,"4 weeks," he said, his voice even sadder.
Miss Martian could feel his mood dropping. Just moments ago, she could feel his happiness; it had put her in a better mood, but now, she felt as if she wanted to cry.
"Yeah, yeah," Robin said, his voice suddenly bitter "See you in a month."
He closed his phone with a snap and no one mentioned a thing. That for one Robin was glad about. Everyone had heard everything and he suddenly didn't feel very cheerful and definitely didn't want to be pestered about how he felt about this.
Bruce had just gotten a call from the Russian Wayne corporation branch. It seemed that they were having trouble with some documents and contracts. They needed Bruce Wayne to go over, look them over, and finalize the papers so that they stay up to date with the other branches. Typical business matters, and yet, Robin was upset.
He had planned on going home and telling Bruce all about the awesome fight over the famous macaroni and cheese. He had wanted to tell Bruce all about the moves he used and how he had come in and finished the fight. And yet, all of that would have to wait until Bruce got back.
It was a complete irritation...no it was worse. It was a...a...ritation or something. Well no, if irritation was annoyance, than ritation was soothing/not annoying. So basically, Batman was just really iri-irtating right now. Since obviously the 'iri' in irritation meant the bad part of the word and Robin wanted a word that was double worse that irritation.
"You lost me at 'ritation'." came Wally's voice. Turning around, he saw that everyone had a odd faced mixture between complete bewilderment and confusion.
Oops. Robin hadn't meant to talk out loud. Shrugging his shoulders, he stood on the now parked bio-ship.
He walked into the cave only stopping in the kitchen to grab a water. The team said their goodbyes and good nights. Miss Martian and superboy headed to their rooms along with Aqualad and Artemis headed out on her own. Punching Wally in the arm, Robin headed out as well.
It really didn't take him long to type in the closest beta-tube to the manor. He made sure to erase the history of locations before stepping into the blinding yellow light.
Walking out of an abandoned train station bathroom stall, he stayed hidden in the shadows as he made his way up the stairs.
It was like looking into a vortex. Or portal. Or war painting.
It seemed as if Gotham was in a state of war. It was strange how Robin had left his safe haven cave and went into war zone Gotham. Buildings were on fire, gunshots rang freely, injured people and the injurer-ers ran around screaming and yelling and laughing. Even the sky looked a ghastly red, clouded with smoke and dark storm clouds.
Gotham was under attack. Its opponent: its own residents. This was worse than everyday Gotham, and that was saying alot. Snapping out of his initial trance, he ducked down, hiding beside a slow moving car. Glancing inside of it, he realized that the driver was a dead, his blood running down the steering wheel that he still gripped tight. The drivers foot must of gotten stuck on the pedal or something.
There was no way he could handle this without Batman, who was probably somewhere near Iran now. He was cocky, and a bit full of himself, but Robin knew when he had a loosing fight ahead of him. It was too many people out tonight and too much damage being done. It wasn't organized nor did it seem as if it had a reason, but the best thing to do now was head home and protect the house and Alfred.
Being out here, as Robin, was bad news. He had probably busted every one of these guys at least twice. Surely, they wouldn't mind putting a bullet through his head. Running down an alley, he shed his costume quickly, revealing his normal day clothes. Pushing his glasses on, he stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to act like he was just as tough as these guys...and not some kid worth millions of dollars.
He thought about catching up to the dead driver guy and stealing the car, but stopped short when 2 big guys blocked his way. He stiffened, making sure neither guys could tell he was afraid. He couldn't go full-out-ninja on them if they attacked, that kind of stuff attracted attention. Even if half the people here hated each others guts, they'd work together to team up on him in an instant. And yet, he couldn't stand here either, allowing himself to get beat up, eventually revealing that he was Dick Grayson, millionaire heir.
So, he did the reasonable thing a kid would do when confronted with large guys: he ran...fast.
He rushed down a familiar alley way, knowing that the only way out of it was through a small slit that only he could get through. It was small, tight, and required a lot of twisting and aerobic training. He could hear the large guys behind him, keeping up surprisingly well. But when one of them called for back-up, he put a little extra distance between them, depending on his adrenalin to keep him going.
Why he, a kid who didn't look like he had a penny on him, was targeted, was a mystery to him. These guys probably just wanted something to hit...or throw...or shoot or kill or beat to a bloody pulp. Unfortunately for them, though, he just wasn't in the mood to get killed or beaten. Bruce wasn't going to be home for a while, but he still had a lot to look forward to. He wasn't going to let this little outbreak ruin his night.
Finally reaching the closing in the alley, he hoped up, grabbing a fire escape latter and flew through the crack easily, leaving confused, large men behind. It was a thick wall he had to crawl through, but already he was just about half way there. He was about to laugh loudly when he heard several rounds of gun fire. One of the bullets must of ricocheted off of the inside wall because the next thing he knew, he was holding his right hand to his side, trying to suppress the oozing blood.
It stung...alot and burned. He was pretty sure it was a clean shot though, no major muscles or veins, nor any bones. He wanted to cry and he was tired of pulling his own weight through the crack he was crawling in, but the sound of chaos and metal hitting rock drove him on. Obviously, the men he left behind was trying to knock down the wall he was in, and if he didn't get to the other side fast, he would be in serious trouble.
He could still hear yelling and cursing as he pulled himself out the crack with his left arm. He fell to the ground gracelessly and suppressed a pained cry. He had been shot in his right side, that much was clear, but how deep and the kind of gun they had used was unknown to him. He needed to get the bullet out, but he couldn't do that without having something to hold in the new blood that would flow.
He stood up slowly, using his left side for both support and balance. Already, his right side was numbing, but he couldn't stay here. Not with an outrage going on just over a wall and wounded. He scanned the ground quickly, looking for some kind of stick to help him walk...and possibly protection. The way to the manor from there was pretty far and went through another bad part of town. He really should have asked Wally for a ride.
With the street lights mostly out, Dick could hardly see. Giving up, he dropped, painfully, to the ground and felt around for something long and hard. He just needed something to support himself with, anything really. A pair of crutches would be really nice. He jumped back, startled when a large piece of rock fell and broke next to him. Looking back towards the wall, he saw that it was now filled with cracks, sending large pieces of rock to the ground.
The men were getting close.
Giving up on the 'big stick' idea, he crawled forwards. He was running out of time. He just needed to keep moving. Keep moving towards home. Keep moving forwards. At the end of the alley was a fence. It was tall and old and sturdy...minus one part. Exactly 24 wood pieces over was a loose piece of wood. He just needed to get to it and move it out of his way. Trying to get back up, he stumbled forwards landing on his face.
His face scrunched up in confusion. He had fallen forwards; yes, but, why was he laying on something soft? It took a lot of effort, but he was finally able to sit up. It seemed as if getting up was getting harder with every fall.
Lifting his head up, adrenaline pulsed through him in a quick burst. His pain was temporarily gone as he backed up against the wall that was tumbling down a little more each second. He hadn't fallen on some discarded backpack like he hoped, no, he had fallen on a person...a dead person.
He held his left hand to his chest trying to steady his breathing. It was one thing fighting crime and seeing accidental (and sometimes sick purposeful) deaths, it was something else seeing a dead guy driving a car (something he'll never forget), but it was an entirely different thing when he fell on top of a dead guy.
Yes, that was entirely different.
Taking a better look, he realized that it wasn't one dead guy, but two...or actually it was only one dead guy, but there was a dead woman beside him.
Catch your breath, he reminded himself. The last thing he needed was to start hyperventilating. Keep going forward, your be there in a minute.
Getting off his initial adrenaline rush was bad news for him. The pain returned, leaving him tired and weak. Shaking his head of negative thoughts, he rolled onto his stomach, he couldn't just sit here and do nothing. Reaching his left arm up, he pulled his own weight forwards, a large falling rock just missing his head. He didn't need to look back to know they had made a hole to his side. The yelling was louder and he knew, any minute now, they'd start shooting again, this time killing him.
The thought of death gave him a bit of strength. He didn't want to die. He was to young to die. He could not die. Not now. Not like this. He had to go out heroically, saving someones life, not getting shot in a petty alley way by some petty thieves.
Pulling himself with one arm took a lot of strength and muscle he didn't have. He was nearly to the fence when he heard a squeal. For a moment, he thought he had somehow rolled over a mouse. His original thoughts were: gross, but he remembered his predicament and kept crawling forwards, hoping the mouses guts didn't stain his shirt...and that no one would shoot him.
When he heard the squeal again, he froze. He was wasting time and the screaming voice in the back of his head made sure he knew that, but as he listened, he realized that it wasn't squealing he heard...but crying instead.
Giving a quick look around he continued moving forwards. He was no help to anyone dead. He heard a loud scraping sound suddenly. It scared the pain right out of him momentarily. As his head was crowded with numerous thoughts (what was that noise? Where was it coming from? How close are the men to getting to me? Why isn't Bruce here to save me? Why is there a could of dead people on the ground?) he continued the agonizing crawl forward, but it seemed as if the closer he got to the turn of the alleyway, the louder and more frantic the scratching sound got.
Getting to the fence made him feel like he had just run a marathon...no, make that 2 marathons. But, he had made it. He reached out, not even needing to count how far over to the loose board he was. He hung his head of exhaustion, reaching his hand out to the board at the same time only...well, he didn't remember the board being fuzzy and soft.
His head snapped his head up at the same moment he heard the high pitched squeal/cry again. Realization hit him as he realized there was no crazy crying mice- it was just a little boy. He stared at the boys tearful face for a moment, then, he slowly turned around to look at the dead couple behind them. Turning his face back towards the boy, he realized that it must have been his parents. His dead parents.
He couldn't help but pity the boy. Both of them had lost their parents. Both them had seen the loss of their parents. And at the moment, both of them was in danger. Despite his numb body (and the fact that he was bleeding a lot more, thanks to his numerous adrenaline rushes) he scooped the boy up into his arms and stood up, using the fence for support.
Gunshots suddenly rang clearly, causing Dick to have, yet another heart attack, and causing the boy to scream loudly. One of the bullets skinned his calf, causing him to grit his teeth.
Okay, it was going to be one of those days.
He swung himself and the boy through the fence and around the corner as quickly and as smoothly (although it didn't really look that way) as he could. Alfred would have his work cut out for him tonight. He held the small boy up quickly, turning him back and forth carelessly, looking for any signs of wounds. Thankfully though, the only blood on him, was from Dick himself.
He took just a second to catch his breath. The boy clung to Dick like his life depended on it. His tiny, grubby hands were clamped tight around Dick's arm.
Okay, he thought, so I cant walk now, I could barely walk before. I need a ride, but I shed my cell phone with my suit. I have to get this kid to safety, and I have to get out of this riot myself.
No sooner had the thoughts passed his mind that a sleek black motorcycle skidded to a stop in front of him. The bike was nice, that much was obvious. Nothing was noticeable about the rider other than the fact that they were good on a cycle. Whether or not the person wanted him dead or was just trying to scare him was beyond him. The only thing keeping him from running again (other than his injuries) was the cycle: perfect transportation.
It seemed fast and it seemed easy to get. The rider seemed slim and easy to take down. He carefully slid the boy off his arm. When the kid latched back on, he slid him off again, standing up this time. He just needed to get the rider off the motorcycle, grab the kid, and get out.
In a fluid motion, he had tackled the rider, sending them both to the ground on the other side of the vehicle. He tried a classic hold on the guy, but the guy quickly turned, headbutted him with his helmet and tried to get on top.
Dick kicked both his legs up at once, knocking the guy off of Dick and making the guy loose his balance. Trying again to get on top, Dick rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the screams his body was sending him, and tried the grab the guys arms and force them behind his back.
As he was again overcome, only to get the upper edge again, he faintly heard the kid crying, probably terrified at the sight of the fight, but Dick couldn't stop. Not with the kid needing help and himself needing medical help.
Another headbutt to the head, though, sent him reeling back. He tried to stay sitting up, but the world spun to quickly for his eyes and mind and the next thing he knew, he was laying on the hard cement ground. Even with the world tilting left and right and spinning in 5 different ways all at once, he knew the attacker guy- who still hadn't removed his helmet- was concerned about the last hit. When he saw the black helmet come into view, looking at his face, he quickly took advantage of the moment and jabbed the guy in the stomach hard.
Dick pushed back on the guy, quickly getting up at the same time. He spun around quickly, looking for the kid, only to get an atrocious pain in his side. Dropping down to his knees, he held his side tightly, as if his hands could some how push all the pain away physically. His vision swam and he tried to blink away the tears that had sprung to them. Out of nowhere, the kid latched onto his arm again.
He looked up, seeing something black in his peripheral vision, only to realize it was a glove. The mysterious riders glove, reaching out to him and trying to help him up.
And then it started to rain.
How could his day go from utterly amazing to utterly disastrous- purposefully being light on the asterous part? It really couldn't get any worse than this.
A/N: Okay? Anyone not satisfied? Anyone completely satisfied? PLZ tell me what cha think. N also, read my other W.I.P (work in progress) A Test of Faith, pretty good if you ask me. I love you guys reviews, plz Read and Review!