A Night in the Life
Chapter Two
"Robin."
He fell silent. Not the right time for levity, eh? But then, as far as Bruce was concerned, there was no right time for levity. Dick twisted as far as he could, spread-eagled as he was between the support beams, and found the shadowy figure in the dimness.
Bruce lay stiff, his entire body rebelling against the manacles binding him to the table, like he could burst free by sheer force of will. "There's a way out." This time the words crackled through the transceiver in Robin's mask instead of across the room. Batman's voice sounded too calm to come from that tense body. "It won't be easy and it won't be fun."
Dick grinned. "I bet it'll be more fun than getting slowly skewered through the heart by Petra's crystal." He glanced back toward the wall. The crystal was barely two inches from his chest now, glittering blue-white and plenty sharp enough to break through the light Kevlar weave of his uniform.
"Use the crystal to cut the ropes," said Batman's voice in his ear.
"Thought of that." It was the obvious answer. "Can't reach."
"You'll have to break the crystal and catch a piece."
He'd thought of that too, of course, but hit the same problem. "Can't reach," he muttered into the radio again.
"One of Petra's victims struggled hard enough to break the crystal."
"Yeah, but that only worked after he got impaled." Dick stopped. No way. Bruce wouldn't make him—well, ok, yes he would. "You want me to—"
"The rope should stretch enough to give you a few more inches. Reposition yourself. Lean low and right. You control the impact, you control the crystal." Bruce sounded as calm and cool as if he was just assigning another exercise.
"I can't—"
"Now. Before you run out of time."
His breathing had gone quick and ragged. He sucked the air in slowly, let it hiss out between his teeth. Ok. No problem. Just another night in the life of Robin. He strained against the rope, as low and as far to the right as possible. The muscles of his left arm shrieked in protest.
"I can aim it at my shoulder." His voice sounded steadier than he expected.
"If it hits below the clavicle, you're dead."
"I know." Bruce had made him memorise every inch of human anatomy. The names of muscles pushed into his head. Trapezius and levator scapulae, one of the few places where a penetrating wound couldn't do much permanent damage.
"Now."
Dick gulped down a deep breath. Hey, this would make a good story, right? Wally would eat it up. He grinned, let out a whoop of laughter, and flung himself forward.
The crystal punched straight through the Kevlar and sheared into his flesh. He felt it scrape the top of his collarbone. Pain flashed up his neck and down his arm. He was still laughing. The crystal wasn't damaged.
The other guy had struggled. Broke it in his death throes. Dick fought to calm his breathing again. Bruce had made him study breaking glass, calculate the angular momentum of the shards. Useful for jumping through windows. Same concept. Do it.
He twisted his body sideways, jerked upward, felt the crystal splinter, and this time the noise coming out of his mouth was definitely more of a scream than a laugh.
Not really like glass after all. Didn't shatter, just cracked and split into chunks and sent fresh bolts of fire into his shoulder. The ropes were holding his full weight now, while pain blazed hot enough to melt his legs out from under him.
Bruce was talking in his ear again. Almost yelling. "Robin. Progress report. Robin!"
He mastered his breathing. Slow, deep, calm, like Bruce had taught him. The pain subsided, and he found himself grinning again. He'd just pulled a crazy Batman escape move. Wally would get that wide-eyed look and tell him he was bad-ass and totally nuts. He laughed. God, he loved endorphins.
"Robin! Are you—?"
"Progressing," he said. Bruce would probably chew him out later for that answer, but right now he didn't care. Petra liked to watch. She had seen what he did. She was probably already on her way to stop his escape. He had to finish.
Dick bent his head sideways and gripped a long shard of crystal between his teeth. It tasted like blood. He tugged. The sharp edge cut his lip. The muscles of his shoulder clenched reflexively. He bit down harder and wrenched the crystal free.
There, easy. Now for the hard part. He turned his head the other way, twisted his right hand against the ropes until the palm faced upward. Bruce had made him practice throwing things with his mouth. One of those lessons that seemed useless at the time. Thanks, Bruce. He lowered his chin, then flicked his head up and out and sent the shard of crystal in a glittering arc.
It landed on his hand and he snapped his fist shut before it could bounce away. He smirked. He was as good as free. As long as Petra didn't show up too soon. He turned the crystal and started sawing. The rope parted quickly. So did the skin on his palm and fingers. Blood slicked the crystal, and Dick had to pause and get a fresh grip.
One hand free. The other hand only took a moment. He bent down and slashed the ropes away from his ankles. "I'm loose!" he whooped. Bruce's turn. Dick flicked his wrist, and his spare lock picks slid down out of the hidden compartment in his glove.
He ran across to Bruce and started by tugging the blindfold free. Batman's cold white eyes locked onto him, as expressionless as ever, but the line of Bruce's mouth softened below the edge of the cowl and the muscles of his jaw unclenched.
Dick smiled back and started on the iron mitten sort of contraption that held down Bruce's right hand.
