Authors Note: This is a mashup of my two favourite stories Batman and Teen wolf. Somebody had to do it after all of the Stiles batman references.
Characters:
Stiles Stilinski as Richard "Stiles" Grayson/ROBIN
Derek Hale as Derek Wayne/BATMAN
Malia Tate as MALIA GORDON/BATGIRL
Alan Deaton as Alfred Deaton/ALFRED
Allison Argent as Alison Crock/ARTIMIS
Scott McCall as Scott West/KIDFLASH
It's a thick smoggy night in Gotham. Steam pours out from sewer grates, and the city's once great business towers and thoroughfares are gritty and crumbling, worn down by time and neglect. It's all darkness and rot, hidden beneath splashes of neon. High above the city streets, perched on a stone gargoyle a young vigilante waits.
"Robin, what's your position?"
The young vigilante grins and touches the communicator in his ear, "Vertical, approximately fifty feet above street-level." He snarks.
"What's your location, Robin?" He rephrases with a slight growly edge to his voice.
"You're telling me that you don't actually know? I always thought my utility belt was chipped or something."
"ROBIN!"
"Roof of the Kane building, West wall, with eyes on Phoenix pharmaceuticals, as instructed, Batman." He reports, with a slight chuckle.
"Anything yet?"
Robin squints through his domino mask and zooms into the building with his night vision binoculars. He rolls his eyes as he finds Dr. Kent Wessler exactly where he left him, sitting at his desk going through a small mountain of paperwork.
"Pfft—this guy is about as interesting as wallpaper. I've been tailing him all day and nothing—nada. You sure this is our guy?"
"According to my informant he's been providing the East Side Dragons with BLIS."
"BLIS?" He repeats, his fist clenching around his binoculars. "Well then I guess wallpaper just got a whole lot more interesting." He grits out through his teeth. He'd had a run in with a couple teenagers high on BLIS a few weeks back he'd gotten them to the hospital but…they didn't make it.
"Keep a cool head, Robin." Batman reprimands, "When the exchange happens, you observe and report, that's it. Whatever happens you don't give up your position. Is that clear?"
Robin lowers his binoculars, glowering through his domino mask, "Observe and report, I got it." He says, in a short clipped voice, while cracking his knuckles.
The wind whistles along the rooftop, ruffling through his hair, his long black cape billowing around him. A car horn blares from the street below, and Robin tears his eyes away from the plate glass widows of Kent Wessler's office. A figure darts out into the busy street, her movements sleek and controlled as she dodges cars. She clears the street and ducks down a dark alleyway. Robin cocks his head, curious. His eyes flick back to Wessler, he still hasn't left his desk.
He chews on his lip indecisively for a moment before he jumps down off the stone gargoyle and moves further down the ledge of the roof. Lifting his night vision binoculars he zooms in on the alley, and spots the girl. She leaning her shoulder against the wall, her eyes studying the watch on her wrist. Robin cocks his head to the side as he watches her. His eyes appraise her slowly, she's wearing tight ripped jeans, scuffed motorcycle boots, and a leather jacket with the faded imprint of a running coyote. She's got her long brown hair, trapped under a thin red scarf. Which doesn't make sense because It's still august.
Robin squints, "What are you up to, huh?" He wonders allowed.
His eyes follow her with interest as she slips off the wall and crosses the dark alley, stopping in front of a wide metal door, on the east wall of Phoenix Pharmaceuticals. Robin tenses on his toes, "Bad idea, coyote-girl." She reaches into her pocket pulling out a phone and hooks up a cable to the keypad on the door. "Don't do it, don't do it." He warns. Numbers cycle across the screen of her phone before the light on the keypad turns green. Robin runs a hand through his hair, "And you did it, you actually did it." She unhooks her phone and tugs the scarf up to her nose covering her face, before turning the handle and slipping inside.
Robin straightens up, stalking back along the ledge of the roof to the stone gargoyle. "Batman, we have a serious problem." He reports touching his ear. He winces as his ears are filled with nothing but the rush of static. Robin shakes his head. "Batman, are you reading me? Batman?…Alfred I need a twenty on Batman…Alfred? Alfred come in." Robin yowls suddenly tearing the communicator from his ear as it blares with audio feedback.
"Damnit!" He snarls rubbing his ear. His eyes dart to Wessler's office and he freezes when he sees that Wessler is gone. A chill runs down his spine, "NO!NO!NO!" He scans the building floor by floor, with his binoculars. He blows out a breath when his eye land on Wessler, until he sees three goons with guns forcing him along the hallway. He swallows hard when he sees them reach the express elevator. They hit the button for floor eighteen. Robin counts floors and scans floor eighteen. The floor is dark except for a flicker of light in one of the offices. He zooms in and spots someone in the light of a computer screen. Magnifying he sees that its the girl in the red scarf. "Really, Coyote-girl? Really? You are so not helpful right now." Robin clips his binoculars onto his utility belt and steps out onto the edge of the gargoyle's head. He has about ten seconds of indecision before he shakes his head.
Licking his lips his eyes dart back and forth, judging the distance between buildings. He isn't close enough. "Ah, crud. This is a bad idea, Robin." he berates himself, as he leans off the edge of a fifty-foot drop with nothing but a sea of traffic and concrete below.
Unclipping his grappling gun he backs up a few feet then launches himself into a run, diving off the building and firing the grappling gun, in mid-air. As he free falls, the air rushes through his hair, whipping through his cape, his heart throbbing with adrenaline. This isn't what a typical teenager gets up to on a school night. But as the grappling hook finds it's mark, and the wire catches, propelling Robin toward Phoenix pharmaceuticals, Stiles Grayson has to admit he was born for this.
TO BE CONTINUED...