Author's Note: Story from Bruce's POV. Clock King is planning to do something potentially cataclysmic in Gotham if allowed to. Bruce and Damian set out to stop him. Things go wrong. Time is fractured. Instead of one Robin, there are four…the key to repairing the damage to time itself lies in them. Bruce must figure out the solution before it is too late…Set to run for multiple chapters if well-received. Please read and review.
Enjoy.
Shattered
The Clock King, his real identity unknown at this juncture, is proving a difficult target. The boy and I have been tracking him across the city, but have yet to devise a way to stop his repeated thefts of banks and technological institutes. We have deduced he is implementing some manner of time-altering device, one of his own design, to speed or slow its pace during his crimes. Fortunately, its effects are extremely local in concentration, affecting only the immediate area near the device up to a distance of five metres. We can also assume such a controlling device requires a significant power source to operate for the periods that it does. Therefore, its battery life is finite in the current portable form it is employed. The idea of waiting him out has already been floated. It is not viable because his technology does not stop with this dangerous mechanism. He also uses teleporters, modified flashbangs with retina-burning fluorescence and a high concentrate of remote explosives with unique fragmentation patterns. We have a containing strategy though. To that end, predicting the next probably target will be the Teem Institute of Technology in Downtown Gotham, we have camped on the adjacent building to await his arrival.
It is close to midnight. Our surveillance has lasted two hours. The boy is growing increasingly listless.
"Could you be mistaken, Father? Perhaps the pattern is otherwise." He asks now gazing up at the sky instead of the direction of the institute. He turns and slouches back against the ledge, splaying his feet out and resting his head on top of it. He is tired of surveillance. He has never had much patience for this facet of our jobs. I would chide him if I suspected he had done anything but recruit every fibre of his being into not voicing such scepticism.
"There is always an element of doubt when operating without definitive intelligence. Do you believe I am mistaken, Son?" I say without moving my gaze away from the building's entryway. He sighs.
"You are not in the habit of making weak assessments. I would imagine you are not wrong here either. It just seems…"
"I know that you're bored, Damian. You do not have to say otherwise." I say. He scoffs.
"That would be unprofessional on my part, would it not, Father?"
"You make no secret of being only eleven years old: children of your age often tire of inactivity without your sensibilities to action. I am pleased you waited this long to voice dissention."
"It is not dissention, Father. I am merely being pragmatic in the circumstances. He is not here, we are…we could be incorrect in our theory." He does not like being accused of disobedience by me. Others may scream at him for his lack of consideration, manner or flouting of conventional etiquette until their lungs burst and receive nothing but a smirk. When I remark on such behaviour, he is always ready to defend himself. I find it oddly sweet. I spot movement on the westside of the institute. A single figure is moving into a CCTV camera blind spot with practiced ease.
"It would seem not. We have a visitor." I say to spark his interest. He turns back around and scans the building.
"Where, Father?"
"Westside, mid-point of the wall."
"Hmm. Just one?"
"So, it would seem. We need to be careful on our approach. If it is not the Clock King, we need to deal with the situation quickly." I say getting from a seated position to a crouch. The boy mirrors me.
"And if it is him?" He asks as we begin to round the rooftop to swing across the divide. I am simple in my instruction.
"We will have to take him by complete surprise. Anything else and our chances of success fall to nothing."
"Understood."
Our initial approach lands us on the roof of the institute. Despite the lack of a skylight, a large portion of the roof is sloped upwards and made of glass. The glass will be reinforced and far too thick to cut through by hand, but does give us an interior view that stares directly down onto the lobby area six floors below via a spiral staircase. Even in low light conditions, we see our figure cross the lobby to reach the institute's main science labs on the east side of the building. A positive identification is not possible at this distance, but a strange distortion effect was noted in the area immediately around the figure's body. It is a hallmark of the Clock King's time-bending device. I glance over at the boy.
"Did you see that?" I ask. He nods without looking up.
"The distortion effect. So why is he here, Father? You said that he wants to build something bigger than his device but never said what. What does he need from this institute?" Damian is an astute scientist. I imagine he will be very interested by what our adversary intends to construct. I have purposely kept him in the dark on the Clock King's motives until we could be certain of his presence here tonight.
"He wishes to complete the world's first working time machine." The boy's first reaction is to scoff at the notion.
"Well, he can't. Time travel itself may not be an impossibility as you have aptly demonstrated, but there is no way humans can possibly harness the ability for themselves." I am in full agreement with him on the matter: I do not believe the Clock King can succeed in this venture either. It only makes his attempts to do so more dangerous. My own experience with time travel almost resulted in the destruction of the space-time continuum itself and had been orchestrated by beings who knew what they were doing. Were someone to try and replicate the feat without the requisite knowledge and understanding…It does not bear thinking about.
"The Clock King believes he can. His appearance here today is to acquire the only energy source capable of supplying sufficient power to attempt time travel, the Infinity Engine." I say as we descend on the building's west face to reach the labs as quickly as possible. The boy proves to be nonplussed.
"That is not exactly a small item for one man to cart away, Father."
"True, but he only needs a flatbed truck for transportation. The engine can be lifted by a team of six with little difficulty."
"So why is he the only one here if he intends to steal it? We have been watching for hours: any vehicle even coming close to the institute would have been visible to us. And there are no additional idiots on standby to move such an object. It makes no sense." I sense Damian is close to grasping what I have already deduced regarding the Clock King's visit tonight. He is not here to steal the engine…yet. The boy continues explaining to me how little sense it all makes for almost two minutes before going completely silent. The penny has dropped. "This is a test. He is going to…"
"Attach his device to the engine to see how powerful the battery is."
"With that boost in power…the range jumps from five metres to…" He pauses as we reach the ground undetected by any security measures. "How large is the city?"
"The distortion will encompass the entire city without problem when connected to the engine. What it will do when the field is amplified to such an extensive range is the unknown variable here. His devise can slow or speed time but cannot stop it. So, we will either live at a fraction of normal speed or blink out of existence in a matter of minutes. But we will not be frozen." I tell him in trying to decide how best to gain entry to the laboratory and keep the necessary element of surprise. Ironically given our target, time is short. In less than five minutes, the Clock King will have connected his device and plunged the city into chaos.
There are no emergency exits. The walls behind the brick façade are solid titanium and reinforced to withstand significant explosive force. There are no windows to smash through, no skylights to descend down from. The building will not yield simply because we need it to. The only option is to infiltrate through the main door and go through the lobby like Clock King. Scrambling fields should mask our approach on security cameras and negate the building's security alarms. It will be obvious to security personnel something is amiss, but we have no time for greater planning. I am already on the move towards the main doors. One is ajar from the previous intruder's entrance and we slip inside within twenty seconds. The lobby and hallways are negotiated in thirty seconds. Less than two minutes later, we are outside the laboratory where the engine is being held. Again, the keypad encoded door is open. Standing either side of the door is not an option since it swings outward.
I stand on the right, pressed against the wall with the boy to my immediate right, and cautiously peer inside the room. The Clock King has his back to us. The distortion field has been temporarily halted whilst he adjusts the mechanism. Judging from how he is already resealing an access panel on the device, he is ready to connect to the engine. It is now or never. I signal to the boy to be ready for a flanking assault in five seconds. I prepare a smoke grenade. Five seconds elapses during which time we don respirators. I toss the grenade a moment before it functions and hear both the sudden hiss of escaping smoke and gasp of surprise from its intended victim. We enter instantly after. Smoke clouds the room, shrouding everything from view. Projectiles are thrown to estimated positions. Nothing is heard. I would like this to be over. It will not be. I see the flashbang just before detonation.
"Eyes!" I call already shielding mine from the resulting flash. Clock King employs specialist lenses to counteract the effects of his own weaponry and so will be unaffected. The flash lasts between one and four seconds. The smoke dissipates after twenty seconds in a well-ventilated area. In this enclosed space, we have an additional thirteen seconds of cover. But the sprinkler system is already active, complicating issues. The overpowering sound of water, combined with my current sightlessness means detecting and subduing the target is an exercise in instinct. I sense a presence and swing my left arm low, catching a leg.
"Idiot!" I hear my son yell. I am mistaken. The time is up on the flash. I open my eyes and search for the Clock King. The smoke is escaping into the hallway. I see him with the device already connected to the engine. He is moving to turn it on. We are six feet away. We cannot close the distance in time. Before I can calculate a winning strategy based on current factors, a shuriken is sailing through the air. Damian's aim is off by the slightest of margins. Instead of striking the Clock King in the back of the head, the star hits the device he is trying to activate. For a moment, I believe the points have not penetrated the casing. Then everything is engulfed in an electric pulse, exacerbated by the water. I am knocked unconscious almost instantly.
"Bruce?"
"…"
"Bruce! Get up!"
Someone is shouting at me from above. I groggily open my eyes. I am no longer in the institute. There is a dark sky overheard, tinged red. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles ominously. I attempt to climb to my feet, only to find a green-gloved hand offering assistance. I take it, assuming it is Tim. When I stand, I realise it is not Tim. It is not Damian either. It is Dick…as Robin. He is…a teenager again, somewhere around fifteen if I have estimated his height and build correctly. It makes no sense. He looks worried.
"What happened?" I ask him. He shrugs.
"I don't know, Bossman. We were fighting Freezy-Pop in the Bowery and then something hit. I got knocked out cold. When I came to, I was in Park Row and you weren't anywhere. I've been looking for you for almost twenty minutes. You okay?" Victor Fries? I check my memory palace for confirmation of such an investigation with Dick at fifteen. I find it. Fries had set up a base of operations in the Gotham Museum and was planning a large diamond heist to fund more treatment for his wife. We stopped him before he could follow through on the plan…in the Bowery.
"This is wrong." I say looking around for any sign of Damian or the Clock King. "I have to get to the Teem Institute." I reach for my grapnel and prepare to fire. The fastest route is over the…I stop when I do not even recognise my current surroundings. It looks like the Bowery at street-level, but the buildings are all incorrect. Several of them are new, but do not look it.
"Teem Institute? Never heard of that place, big guy. You sure you're okay?" Dick asks from my side. I regard his face with newly discovered scepticism. I no longer trust my eyes.
"Take off your mask." I say. He frowns.
"Why?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Yeah, of course, but…we're on the ground…You said never…"
"Take it off. Now."
He removes his mask to reveal blue eyes. I analyse them carefully. There is nothing to suggest he is not Richard Grayson. I take off my glove and run a hand over his scalp. I feel the scars from his beating by Dent. I recognise their pattern. It is a unique identifier. He bats my hand away. "Enough with the weirdo behaviour! You want to see the mole on my ass next?" He snaps replacing his mask.
"You don't have a mole there." I respond turning back towards the unfamiliar landscape. The device malfunctioned. Time has been fractured to some degree or another as a result. Dick is twenty-eight years old. His childhood ended a long time ago. I pull my glove back on. "Where are we?" I inquire.
"Somewhere in the Bowery, I think." He says as more thunder rumbles in the distance. It sounds closer. I doubt it is a good sign. I must find Damian. I check my communications link. It is working, but is jammed on transmit only. I elect to send a message in case he can still hear me.
"Robin. This is Batman. If you can hear this message, proceed to rendezvous one. If you arrive before me, wait the allotted time and then fall back to rendezvous two. If all else fails, rendezvous at location Alpha by daybreak. Batman out."
"I'm right here, big guy." Dick tells me with a bemused expression. "Did you hit your head or something?" His communications link is the same frequency as Damian's. I did not see a need to change it after he left the mantle. All of his successors had the same allocation. It made transitions smoother. I look up.
"We need to get to higher ground." I say preparing my grapnel again. He shrugs.
"Sounds like a plan. Let's do it."
We are stood on the rooftop of the Ace Chemical building three minutes later having reacquired our bearings. The city is not just quiet. It is devoid of any life whatsoever. Every street is empty. Every light is out. Lightning flashes red on the horizon. This is not good. We must…I must find out what has happened, and soon. The fastest route to rendezvous one, the founder statue in Gotham Park, is over the Bowery and into the Old City. It should take no more than six minutes at optimum speed. We move quickly, although I am certain my companion has no idea what the hurry is about. We touch down at the statue five minutes and eighteen seconds later. Someone is waiting. It is a Robin, but it is not Damian.
Stood in front of the statue, covered in welts and bruises, is Jason Todd. He is sporting the same Robin uniform as Dick, except in a far more ragged condition. Judging from his height and build…he is also somewhere around fifteen years of age. He looks at the pair of us in bewilderment before grinning.
"Is this your spare?" He asks gesturing to Dick. "Wish you'd told me you kept a steady supply of us waiting in the wings. Maybe I wouldn't have busted my ass so hard looking for you then." He is joking, at least for the most part. He advances on my companion with intent.
"What happened to you on the way here?"
"Got attacked by a mob of crazy-eyed freaks near the Narrows. I think they wanted to literally eat me."
"How did you get away?"
"The usual: kicked the living shit out of them all. Took a few shots in return, but nothing too…" He almost loses his balance but rights himself at the last moment, "serious." He finishes before squaring up to Dick. "So, who the fuck's this dweeb? Looks like Golden Boy." Jason remarks appearing to size him up for potential combat despite what he has just been through. There is no easy way of communicating this situation. I shrug.
"It is." I say. Jason's smile fades.
"Bullshit. Golden Boy's a ponytail-sporting, spandex-wearing asshole about…" He lifts his hand three inches above Dick's head, "this tall and with a much stupider expression on his face." Dick turns to me.
"Who is this, Bossman? And why is he wearing my uniform?" Jason shoves him back a few steps with his clear power advantage. He sneers at his predecessor.
"Back-up kid. This is my Bossman and I'm wearing my uniform. You need to get your own on both counts." I interject my arm between them.
"We do not have time for argument or confrontation. You will both follow my orders until this matter is resolved, is that clear?" I say, more to Jason than Dick who seems more than a little startled by his successor's presence. I, on the other hand, am vexed by it all. Jason nods without taking his eyes off the other youth.
"Yeah, I got you, big man. Something's really been fucked up this time, huh?"
"You could say that. We need to get to the Teem Institute immediately."
"I wouldn't bother." I turn to find a third Robin has appeared near us. It is still not Damian. Tim Drake has joined this bizarre reunion, sporting the initial variant of his Robin costume, the first without pixie shorts. It places him around the same age bracket as Dick and Jason. "I've just come from Downtown. There's nothing but a really big hole in the ground. Looks like ground zero for whatever's happening." Tim eyes his two predecessors with palpable tension. They are both far larger and heavier than he is, despite their closeness in age. Jason at fifteen could probably outlast them both in extended combat. But this is not going to come to blows. "Let me guess: space-time continuum collapse?" Tim speculates. While just as physically accomplished as his predecessors, Tim's greatest asset as Robin was always his mind. It still is. I nod.
"Time has fractured. I am not the Batman from any of your time periods. I am from what you would perceive as your future. It is imperative we find a way to repair the damage as soon as possible. I need you all to trust me. Despite your differences, you all earned the mantle of Robin. No-one here is undeserving of wearing the uniform or the title. Understand?" I say as the three of them close ranks on me. The sight of them all together at the same volatile stage of development is somewhat daunting. They are not staring at each other. They are all staring at me.
"You're from the future?" Dick says in incredulity. "How old am I where you're from?"
"Twenty-eight."
"So…thirteen years in my future…" Dick says before seeming to hand off the conversation to Jason.
"Uhm…that's…about eight years my future…" His successor adds whilst glancing in Tim's direction.
"Four-and-a-half years my future." The third Robin finishes before smirking. "He doesn't look any older, does he?"
"No. And I mean…what are you, like forty-something?" Dick chimes in with the same smirk of what I can only imagine is disbelief. I frown.
"That is irrelevant…"
"He's forty-one." Tim says seeming to have made the necessary calculations on the subject. He is correct.
"Shit. Maybe crime-fighting really does keep him young." Jason muses. Dick shakes his head.
"Nah, he's a vampire, that's what it is."
"Maybe he's had Botox…" Tim suggests as a more grounded, but no less insulting explanation for my appearance. I have always been baffled by their abilities to make light of even the most dangerous situations. It is unnerving to see them all do so at once. I clear my throat.
"That's enough speculation. Let's return to location Alpha and regroup." Location Alpha is the cave. They all know that and all look concerned. I suppose there is the question of how to get there without the car. Even if we had it, the design only accommodates two. I consider. "We'll borrow another vehicle." We wait another twenty minutes at the statue. They are restless and wish to leave, especially Jason who looks in need of medical treatment, but are rendered silent when I state my son is still missing. None of them knows of his existence in their respected timelines. I imagine it is shocking, but unimportant. Damian does not appear. My heart drops. I hope he has fallen back to the cave. I tell myself he must have done in abandoning the rendezvous to commandeer transport. He knows the procedures. He will be waiting. Thunder grows louder and lightning more frequently streaks the skies above as we hotwire a nearby car and begin the journey back to what I hope is still the cave. With time in flux as it is, there is no telling what awaits us.