I have another chapter, and this is dedicated to Krystle Michaelis because she's awesome and wants this one to be updated so you should all be thankful to her. Because I wasn't going to update until the weekend. I have 93 review and counting so far and only under 4,000 words to the story, so I want to say an immense thank you to all of you that have reviewed. My goal is to get over 1,000 reviews. I know it's a lot, but could you guys at least get me to 100 on this chapter? :)

If Robin was one thing, it was determined. To rule as half of the duo that controlled Gotham, you had to be. Because when you have some of the world's worst (Or best, depending on how you look at it.) villains that would go to unfathomable extremes and completely willing to kill hundreds, you needed to be eight percent determination, fifteen percent soul, and five percent heart. In Robin's opinion that's what made a hero. Not someone with a flashy costume and pearly white smile. But someone who was willing to do anything to save lives of innocent people, or just human beings in general. Saving someone you don't know takes trust, that person could actually be a murderer, molester, stalker, anything. Their lives are in your hands though, and you're supposed to save 's what the world expects you to do, and what deep down you expect yourself to do. So, you just do. So Robin would say that, yes, he's very determined, if the situation they were in was anything to go by.

Robin had hoped once Batman arrived on the scene that things would finally start moving, like the inner workings of a clock. Smooth and methodical, without a hitch. Unfortunately that was not the result. He supposed he probably should have taken into account the shape of his team mates and the problem they faced. The watch on his wrist flashed a constant, some what hypnotizing, reminder of the time: 5:17 AM. Bodies all around him sagged with exhaustion, reactions slowed and eyes moving dully over the sights before them. Barely registering motions and words that swirled around the tense air. Tempers were frayed and Robin thinks that if he had to pair a picture to the emotion of the others, it would be a anvil precariously being held in the air by a weak, fragile string.

Batman had taken control of them soon after learning all of the variables. M'gann was to try and achieve telepathic contact with the being in chains, it was decided the need to learn information far out weighed the risk of a mental attack on the red headed girl. Artemis and Kid Flash were assigned patrol of the area at a fifty yard perimeter line, so if they had to alert the others, there would be enough time to at least get into defensive positioning. It wasn't much, but Robin thought his mentor was asking a lot from five teenagers who didn't operate on the same schedule as they did. It was necessary, though. Kladur was to keep the team in check. (Yes, Artemis and Wally, he's looking at you.) And finally, Batman and himself were supposed to work on unhooking the main center of the contraption from the rest of the cargo hold, the part that held the boy and the machines attached to him. Without know what the substances were and their purpose, stopping the flow of blue slosh was not an option.

Robin's hands quaked, and the joints of his fingers ached to let go of the wrench he held in his left hand, pushing with his whole weight to loosen a bolt on the metal floor. He didn't think he could unclench his fingers is he wanted to, though. They'd been in the same position for so long. With his right however, he fiddled and tweaked with the computer console that rested on the side of the makeshift prison, working tirelessly on bypassing the security systems. It seemed to prove useless, as with each one he tore down, another worked itself into the place of the previous. Becoming more complicated with each new one. The pulsing migraine at the sides of his skull was a reminder that, while he was good with computers, he didn't know everything. (Not that he would ever admit it out loud, Wally would never let him live it down.) The shadow of his mentor swayed behind him and Robin wonders if the elder hero had gotten any further on the holder than he had. His internal question was answered when a hiss echoed from the machine, like a sigh of relief from an old man who had finally finished his work after so many years, and the thick clamps on the floor released. Each banging against the supports of the cage, sending a foreboding series of clangs out into the early morning air. He shivered, the sound seemed to amplify through the silence.

Batman raised his gloved hand to the communicator in his ear, "The hold has been released and is now ready for transport. Report back to the truck. We leave in three minutes."

None of them wasted time returning, Robin noticed. Each one within a ten foot radius of the truck in a span of one minute twenty nine seconds. (Yes, he counted. It's instinct.)

"Super Boy, Kaldur, and Robin will load the containment unit into the jet. The rest of you, will return in the bioship. Go.", Batman ordered.

Robin also noticed that for one none of them disobeyed a direct order.

Cliff Hanger. 100 reviews, please?