In the main cell block, Batman's cell door had lost any right to call itself a door at all, as the sudden rush of high-voltage electricity had all but melted the metal into a quickly solidifying slop. Stepping casually over the silvery pool, Batman hurried to the last cell, where J'onn was bent over Superman's prone form.
"Is he…?"
"No." Replied the Martian, sounding completely surprised. "His breathing is shallow and his heart rate uneven, but he is alive. I don't understand – a shot like that should have killed him. Perhaps the collar, dampening his powers, also dampened his susceptibility to kryptonite?"
"Whatever the case, we need to move."
"Agreed."
They lifted the unconscious Kryptonian between them, Batman on his right so that the weight wasn't on his injured shoulder. Together, they staggered out into the corridor and turned right, heading in the same direction that Vice had gone in. Suddenly, the sound of running metal feet echoed up to them from ahead. Looking around, Batman spotted a waste chute to their right and, without any other option, the three of them bundled inside, J'onn first, followed by Superman, and finally Batman.
Closing the sliding door behind him, Batman tried to control his descent, until the chute suddenly tilted beneath him and he was forced to let himself slide out of control, preventing further damage to his shoulder taking all of his efforts.
Finally, the chute levelled out, and deposited him unceremoniously onto a pile of sacking beneath the opening. Dusting himself off, Batman stood and surveyed his surroundings.
They appeared to have arrived in Vice's waste disposal unit. The unsanded rock walls suggested that they were deep underground somewhere; the ride through the chute hadn't lasted that long, so presumably they were directly underneath the heart of Vice's facility. There was a dry heat in the air, and the roar of distant machinery below them. Every so often, thin, sporadic bursts of steam hissed up through the floor. Looking down, Batman realised the level on which he was standing was actually a mesh platform suspended above a stomach-churning drop, fixed to the wall by fat, oily cables. There were no workers on this platform; Batman assumed they were currently all on the lower levels, tending to the glowing machines below.
Quickly scanning the corners of the stalactite-studded ceiling, Batman spotted the tiny blinking red light of a CCTV camera. He tensed instinctively, then relaxed as he realised the camera was pointing in completely the wrong direction. There were no others as far as he could see. Evidently, Vice didn't count on anyone finding their way down here – either that, thought Batman, or he thinks we won't be able to hold this position for long.
Not exactly a comforting thought.
"Batman!" Called J'onn softly. Bruce followed the voice to a bank of rusting, outdated computers lined against the outer edge of the platform. Hurrying over, Batman quickly found the gap between the dead machines and the grimy railing, and, turning sideways, edged along until the space widened and formed a neat hidey-hole, where J'onn was laying down the feebly stirring form of Superman.
"How's he doing?" Asked Batman, crouching next to the pair.
"I believe he's coming around. His powers of recovery are truly incredible. Nevertheless, we should attempt to leave this facility. None of us are in any state to fight. We should regroup with the rest of the League and –"
"No. You go with Superman. I have to stay."
"Why? You can't take on Vice on your own, especially with a broken arm."
"There isn't time to explain now." Batman got up and started to leave, indicating there would be no further argument here.
"It's Red X, isn't it?" Said Superman hoarsely. Batman paused, looking back slightly over his shoulder. Superman had propped himself up on one elbow, and despite looking very weak and drawn, was keeping his dark eyes fixed on Batman, whose silence told Clark that he was completely right.
"What is your relationship with the boy…X1?" Asked J'onn.
Batman raised his eyes to the ceiling and wondered how best to answer.
Meanwhile, crawling through the ventilation system, X2 was wondering almost exactly the same thing. All the while since they had broken out of the chamber containing the other villains, X1 had kept up an icy silence, but X2 knew it wouldn't be long before he couldn't contain himself any more.
Suddenly, in front of her, Jason stopped and turned around. Here it comes, she thought apprehensively.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He growled, as loudly as he dared.
"Because I didn't know for sure –"
"Don't give me that! You're the one who found me washed up on the bank, it must have been pretty damn obvious!"
"You were so beaten up, you didn't have a cape or a mask –"
"Bet you were relieved when it turned out I had no memory; certainly saved you the trouble of explaining yourself!"
"It wasn't like that!"
"I trusted you! I couldn't remember anything, not family, not friends, I didn't even remember my own name until weeks later!"
"I didn't know! For all I knew, you were just some kid who got caught in the explosion!"
"All this time, and you never said anything! What, did you think that if I found out I'd just run and leave you in the same hellhole you were in before?"
"Maybe I did!" Yelled Taryn back, suddenly not caring who heard them. "And yeah, maybe it was stupid and selfish, but I thought if you knew you were Robin you'd – you'd just fly off again and – and l-leave me…" She gulped, then carried on, quiet desperation in her voice, willing him to understand.
"I didn't tell you, because, for all I knew, the person you used to be wasn't the same Jason I know now. You were the first person in the world who ever treated me like a human being. If you changed…I didn't think I could bear it. I'm sorry, I know I was wrong now, but – but…"
She looked up to see him staring at her, waiting for her to finish.
"I'd just found you." She whispered, looking back down at the floor. "I didn't want to lose you."
There was a long silence, broken only by Taryn's stifled crying. She sat with her back against the shaft wall, hugging her knees to her chest. Jason watched her, stunned out of yelling. Taryn never emotional outbursts. That was his department.
He turned away, thinking over what she'd said. He was still angry, but at least now he understood. And he did understand – he knew what it was like to be alone on the streets, with nothing and no-one to run to when you got hurt. He remembered what it had felt like that first night he'd awoken with nothing, not even a memory to call his own, and Taryn had saved him. She'd been alone too, running away from demons of her own. She had a plan for escape from the city, but she'd delayed until Jason was well enough to come with her. And then they'd left, carving a new path for themselves, moving from city to city, never standing still long enough for the past to catch up with either of them.
They were still running, but they were together, and so somehow it didn't hurt so badly anymore.
He looked back at Taryn, and realised that both of their lives had changed, sometimes for the worse, but mostly for the better. Taryn dragging him from the river hadn't been the only rescue that night; somehow, they'd both managed to save each other. She hadn't wanted to lose that inexplicable feeling of belonging together, and Jason realised that, in all honesty, neither did he.
Damn, he thought, I'm going soft.
Crawling back a little way through the shaft, he turned and flopped down next to her.
"Hey." He said after a few seconds.
"Hey." She replied quietly, still sounding like she was about to burst back into tears. "Jason…I'm sorry for being such a –"
"No, I'm sorry." He said simply. "I shouldn't have got so angry."
"Pfft. You're always angry. After 2 years, I hate to say I'm kind of used to it."
"Heh."
There was an awkward pause.
"So…we going to carry on, or…?"
BWOOOOOMMMMMMMM
Jason was saved the trouble of answering by a huge explosion that rocked the foundations of the room and almost rattled the vent shaft off the walls.
Down in the waste disposal room, the force of the shockwave shuddered through the floor and brought tiny cascades of rock and grit down onto the Leaguers.
"What the heck was that?" Muttered Superman as the dust settled.
Two levels above, the clown prince of crime danced through the newly-made hole in the containment chamber. Released green gas billowed around his ankles, and semi-conscious supervillains staggered out behind, gasping great whoops of the clean air.
"Bad boy, Bizarro. A truly terrible job." Bizarro grinned lopsidedly, and wiped chalk dust on his cape.
"Now," continued the Joker, turning to the recovering supervillain horde, "I'm sure the sick psychopath who put us in there is a little put out that we've broken their wall. What say we go and…cheer them up?"
The sadistic smiles that met this suggestion were all the answer he needed, and as they moved away, the Joker began to laugh.
