Shattered 9

Bruce

My current circumstances are less than desirable, given what is at stake. Judging from the burnt and fused condition of Damian's belt, I presume he did not adjust the phase variance properly. As a result, both Alfred and I have been shifted out of the time distortion and into what appears to be the space between dimensions, a kind of nether realm populated by echoes of the past. These echoes manifest themselves as faceless silhouettes wandering endlessly through a dark void, each regurgitating speech from incidents of my history. Two shambling together in tandem, recite an argument Alfred and I had when I was barely thirteen.

"You have to let me go, Alfred!" One silhouette says to the other in perfect mimicry of my then breaking voice. The other gifts its companion a snort.

"I do not have to do anything of the sort, young man! Mozambique is not safe at present, for holidays or anything else you might care to mention. You are not going." The one playing Alfred retorts, again delivering an impression that is eerie in its accuracy.

I have tried to communicate with these phantasms to no avail. They are either ignoring me or are unaware of our intrusion into their space. Alfred's attempts to make physical contact with them has also proved fruitless. They are not solid, having a consistency similar to smoke instead of anything human. We have no idea how long we have been here, but I already know the boys will be doing their utmost to retrieve us.

"Oxygen, Master Bruce." Alfred remarks to me as we eavesdrop on another passing pair of ghosts. These two are reciting a heated ethics debate between myself and Jason. I nod my head, understanding his meaning.

"Yes, perhaps an inexhaustible supply. It is clear we are meant to stay alive in this place."

"Without water, we shan't last longer than a few days, inexhaustible supply or not." The old man comments, mirroring my own survival concerns.

"Time seems remarkably fluid in this place, old friend. It is difficult to ascertain whether we have been here for minutes or years."

"Are we quite certain the belt cannot be repaired or reversed in some fashion?" He asks folding his arms. This is either the first or hundredth time he has posed this question. It is becoming difficult to recall what conversations we have already experienced. I shake my head.

"The internal mechanisms are fused and burnt out. It is entirely non-functional. Our only realistic hope for escape rests with the boys." I tell him without glancing down at the belt. I know I have examined it thoroughly. That I am sure of. The old man sighs.

"And how do you imagine they will go about rescuing us from this void?"

"It would appear one can only come here if an implosion is triggered. To arrive here, they will have to repeat the accident that sent us here to begin with." I say as one roving silhouette emits Joker's ear-splitting cackle as another shouts over the noise in my voice. The imitations are beyond disconcerting.

"What are these creatures, Sir? Are they aberrations of a sort as well?" Alfred asks some time later. I shake my head.

"I believe they are physical manifestations of my memories. This void may be populated by the thoughts of those trapped within it. Time and space do not seem important to the physical laws of this place."

"But there are thousands of these things roaming about. How many memories do you have?"

"Clearly enough to fill an endless void of darkness. You will be contributing as well."

"And, we cannot simply 'think' of an exit from this place?"

"Oddly enough, the first thing I thought of was an escape of some sort. Didn't you?"

"I admit...it did cross my mind."

"And we are still trapped here. It does not translate all thought, only those related to memory."

We pause as another pair saunter by on our left, these ones engaged in an argument that is alien to me. It sounds like Damian and Alfred yelling about time aberrations, confirming my suspicions that we are the ones inadvertently creating these after-images.

"Sir, a thought occurs. A new one, I think. If the accident fused the components of the belt, will not recreating the accident result in the same thing in their belts when mounting a rescue?" The old man says. So, he realises the conundrum before us. I nod.

"That is correct. Hopefully they will realise this and adjust accordingly. It would be far more conducive to use two belts calibrated to differing fields and create a doorway between dimensions than actually come here themselves. If they do, they risk trapping themselves as well."

Damian

I am beyond tired. We have been theorising and planning for almost twelve hours. None of us have slept in more than a day...and it shows. Strong black coffee is no longer sufficient to keep us lucid. Everyone is micro napping. Jason falls asleep for a minute, Dick for thirty seconds. Even I lapse into light sleep for almost two minutes before waking. We have exhausted ourselves in pursuit of the solution to retrieving Father and Alfred safely. We have a plan that may work. It may...may work.

"We use the...the telemetric data from Father's belt...at the moment...moment he and Alfred disappeared...imploded...whatever...to simulate his electronic field...we then...create a..." I think I drift off whilst standing at the board. I snap awake, completely disorientated, and continue. I stab the board with my marker's tip to keep everything together. "an artificial field to simulate Alfred's when they...went...and then...by the wearers interacting with these fields, we create a bridge between...between us...and them." I finish before slumping against the frame the board is situated on. I close my eyes and feel my body beg me to lie down.

"And...this'll work?" I hear Jason ask from what seems like a great distance away. I just about manage to nod.

"In theory. We therefore only need to manufacture two belts...We can start..."

"Tomorrow." Dick says to stir me back to full conscious to stare at him in incredulity. The first Robin is just managing to prop his head up with his hand as he sits in a nearby chair. His blue eyes can barely focus. "You messed this up when you were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Can you imagine what could go wrong if we try this like zombies? We won't even get close."

I know he is right. But I need to rescue Father before I lose him again...to another of my blunders. I think I flap my hand, but my arm feels too heavy to lift.

"You can retire. I will begin the manufacture process...to get a head start." I say only for Tim to take the marker from my hand and shake his head.

"This is Bruce, Damian. He can survive anywhere, even if it's nowhere. The man is as near to indestructible as human beings can get without being a meta. We can sleep. He'll be waiting." My predecessor informs me in a tone I am too tired to take umbrage with. I want to argue the point...very badly. My mouth no longer works properly, so I can't.

"Yeah, Dami. And Al's with him. That means he's alive and kicking too." Jason adds drunkenly rising to his feet. "I know Bruce can go seventy-plus hours without sleep, but we really can't. We shouldn't try either. Right, Golden Boy?" Jason is trying to get Dick's vote of confidence on the matter. Unfortunately, the first Robin is no longer coherent enough to form a sentence, much less give his blessing. Dick just nods absently.

"Yeah, sleep. I... sleep. Need..." We all hear him mumble before somehow standing up and staggering towards the stairs. Jason smirks at him whilst pressing his palms into closed eyes.

"My fucking hero, right there." The second Robin mutters under his breath as he turns to accompany Dick in leaving the cave.

I sigh at being defeated in something as arbitrary as a bedtime. Tim puts the marker to one side and claps me on the shoulder. "We'll pick it up tomorrow. Okay? We solved the equivalent of Fermat's theorem inside of half-a-day, instead of the four-hundred years it should have taken." He tells me. I despair at his inaccuracy.

It took three-hundred-and-fifty-eight years to prove Fermat's Last Theorem, not four centuries. Pedestrian error. I am too fatigued to even correct him though. I nod. Our solution was impressively conjured, given I had never planned for such a nightmare contingency. Not only was Father and Alfred lost to a quirk of my arrogance, but I was also forced to partner Tim Drake to reach the resolution after a humiliating display of emotional instability. Somehow, despite everything coinciding to ruin me, I have succeeded. It is the only comfort I can take from this...absolute shit-storm. I am definitely in need of rest.

We join the others in ascending to the house.

Jason

I really don't want to wake up. Fuck knows who's gonna walk into my room naked this morning. Hopefully nobody, given how things are pretty serious around here now. I open my eyes and dig the fact that I'm alone and nobody's turned on the lights yet. Finally, some peace from all those assholes and their daddy issues. This is a great start to another day in Hell. I get out of bed, grab an awesome shower, throw on my sweats and go downstairs.

It's dark in the kitchen too. This day just gets better and better as I turn on the lights and pull one of the big guy's rations from the cupboard. Bruce made sure he always had enough supplies to see out the apocalypse and the rapture, even if they came at the same time. Today's breakfast is...

Beef stew? Fuck it: why not? Dinner for breakfast can only be a good thing.

I stick the packet inside the kettle and flip the switch. That'll boil in about two minutes. While that's doing its thing, I scope around to see if maybe Bruce had some emergency cigarettes in reserve too. It's pretty hopeless, I know, but I might as well try my luck. Given what he told me on the roof, I won't be getting lung cancer or anything in the near future. Nothing. Of course, there's nothing. Nobody here smok-

Al.

Al told me once that he used to smoke in the army. Then he told me he quit when Bruce was born but started up again when the big guy first put on the cowl. He only kicked the act when Ponytail came to live here. Which means, this Al, the one trapped here with us, still smokes. Which means...he'll have a stash somewhere Dami doesn't go. That can only be his bedroom. Since I've got a whole sixty seconds before my breakfast boils, I make a run across the house to the old guy's room and get ready for a raid.

It takes all of ten seconds to twig there's a fresh carton of smokes hidden in his sock drawer and then all of two seconds to swipe it and begin the sprint back to my breakfast. I slide through the doorway just in time to find the most apathetic Breakfast Club tribute in the world has suddenly appeared around the main island. All three of them look at me and the unlit cigarette in my hand. I clear the air immediately.

"The beef stew is mine." I say.

"You know there are breakfast ones, right, Jay?" Dick tells me like I've never opened a military ration box before. I roll my eyes.

"Did you know you can use a stove for something other than cooking?" I fire back crossing the room, lighting the hob and stooping over the flame with the cigarette clamped between my teeth. I take a couple of short drags to test the flavour and then treat myself to a long one to celebrate a successful heist. Dick smiles at me.

"You want a coffee, tough guy?" He asks gesturing to the three mugs he's lined up on the breakfast island. I wrinkle my nose.

"I hate coffee, Ponytail. So, no thanks." I say exhaling a wicked plume of smoke. "So, now we're all lucid again, do we still think this is a good idea?" I ask them all, leaning against the countertop behind me. Damian nods.

"It is a sound idea, given our circumstances. It is not a 'good' idea though. Nothing ever is when you are toying with the fabric of space-time and reality as we know it. However, it is the only thing we can do with the resources we have at our disposal. I want to say we can have the belts ready in a matter of hours and mount a rescue shortly after."

"And... why can't you?" I inquire taking another drag.

"Because predicting the future is dangerous. And, although I really want to conduct some tests prior to attempting this plan, there is no way to test its functionality other than to do it for real."

"So, this is a one-shot deal, huh?" Golden Boy checks sipping his coffee and grimacing. I know he hates coffee too. Tim nods.

"Yep. We're...going to just have to hope everything we've theorised about this plan is right and pray it works. If even one thing is wrong with the plan, we're going to have a long time to point fingers at one another." Robin Three explains with a forced smile. We're all tense. We all know that one more fuck-up spells the end for our attempts to get out of this backwards Hell. I take one more drag and stub it out on the countertop.

"So, back to the roof where this happened once the belts are good...and then we open this breach between dimension. While the smart guys are holding the door open, the muscle goes in and gets them out. Is that pretty much our plan, Dami?" I ask taking the final empty seat around the breakfast island with the rest of the Robin 'think tank'. Bruce's offspring doesn't look too impressed by me dumbing down his strategy, but he nods anyway.

"More or less. Let me be clear though: if this doesn't work, there is no alternative solution to our problem, no plan B. We cannot restore the timeline without Father. It is impossible." Damian says with the kind of ominous delivery his old man does. It gives me chills hearing him channel the big guy so well. He sips his coffee. "If we do get stranded here for the rest of our natural lives though, I am staking my claim to Father's room."

Yeah, like we'd even want to live in the same place if this all goes south on us. If I was stuck here forever, I sure as hell wouldn't want to live with that smug asshole. To be honest, I doubt I'd ever want to speak to any of these guys again. What would we talk about? How hard we fucking failed him and Al? How much we wish we could've done things differently? No thanks. I smirk at Damian. "You can have your old man's tomb, if you want, Dami. Whatever makes you feel better." I say getting to my feet. "Can we get this show on the road now?"

Dick

This was bound to happen, given how well things have developed for us so far. Are the belts ready? Yes. Are we in the same time period as when they disappeared? Yes. Is the roof that we need to open the crazy-ass gateway on to get them back clear of time aberrations? Er...not really...

We're perched on the building opposite the rendezvous point watching nearly three dozen of those dead-eyed, zombie monsters mill around the rooftop. They don't look like they're in a hurry to leave either. I think we all know how this is going to be fixed. That must be why all four of us are standing on the edge, readying to clear a gap only a Robin can do, and holding some kind of projectile in our hands.

Whoever these people are or were, they're in our way. We're getting Bruce and Alfie back. Nothing is going to stop us. We all jump without calling our targets. I guess this is where I'll see if all of us really did cut our teeth in the big guy's crazy training regime. No-one but me and Bruce could make it out of a situation like this alive. Nobody but Batman and Robin can deal with a scenario like this. Good job there's four of us then.

I target the group right in front of me, throw my batarang and then pile in with a couple of corkscrew kicks to thin them down immediately. They get back up, of course, but that doesn't matter to me. I just want them closer to the edge. I don't get too showy with my moves. I counter some slow lunging with a series of hammer fists and roundhouse kicks that keep pushing them back towards the edge. Eventually, they're only a couple of feet from going over the side of the roof, at which point I let one advance forward to set up the masterstroke of my combat plan. One slow swing of a fist is countered into a modified shoulder throw that I aim squarely at the cluster teetering on the brink of a bad fall. The whole group gets knocked over the side like human bowling pins.

Now, if I'd let them fall all the way down to the sidewalk, then I'd be a monster. But since I haven't and instead dropped them six feet down to a fire escape that has no access back up to the roof, I'll just settle for strategic genius instead. When I turn around, it becomes pretty clear who taught all of us to fight. Bruce's signatures are in all of our fighting styles. Jason throws a punch like the big man would, Damian sweeps a leg with his technique, and Tim does the same sweet spinning heel kick that Bruce uses to take down his bigger opponents. The only department we all outshine him on is speed. I thought I was the fastest guy here, but that's literally only by a second or two. I got to watch them all put down their last target and be amazed that they incapacitated all their guys without resorting to a roof push to help them along the way. Impressive doesn't begin to describe it.

"Once we open this rift, you'll likely have all of...twenty seconds to get in, find them and then get out before it all collapses." Tim tells me and Jason as we line up for what's going to be the most intense foot race in existence. Jason looks over me and grins.

"Ready to see who runs fastest in another dimension, Ponytail. Smart money says it's me." He says.

"If you can shift that extra fifteen pounds of muscle faster than I can run, you deserve to win. Problem is you won't." I retort with a smile of my own. Jason just rolls his eyes.

"If you're quite done, let's get this over with." Damian tells us both as he activates his belt and stands opposite Tim. "Twenty seconds. No longer."

We watch the pair of them raise their arms above their heads and then slope their hands together to create an arch. There's a flash of red light when they make contact before a doorway appears in the space between their bodies. It's barely a foot across and pitch-black, but we know time's already running out. I still sprint out ahead of Jason to go into the unknown first.

I don't know how to interpret what the hell I'm seeing as I sprint amongst a sea of ghosts. Nothing else matters but getting Bruce and Alfie out of here. I hear Jason sliding into position beside me. Must be less than fifteen seconds now. Five seconds to find them and get back. I nearly got knocked over by Bruce as he hurtles towards the doorway but manage to stay on my feet and pivot a one-eighty instead. Of course, he knows what's going on. This is Bruce: the guy seems to know just about everything. We both clatter through the doorway, followed only a split second behind by Alfie and Jason. The doorway collapses as soon as we're all through.

Bruce looks at us, his face as blank and unreadable as ever. "What kept you?" He asks before pulling out his grapnel. "We have to move beyond the city limits before my unfiltered presence reverts this area back to the stone age." Nobody even gets a word in before he's fired the line and swung out across the cityscape as if nothing happened at all. What do we do, the boys who just pulled off a miracle of modern science? We follow him without even thinking. Because if the last day-and-a-half has proven anything, it's that we're all as crazy as he is.

Bruce

We move beyond the city limits without incident. Alfred is able to comfortably navigate the streets via a borrowed motorcycle, whilst the boys and I transit across the sky in a pattern that almost approaches unison. When we arrive at the safety point, I find they have shrewdly acquired a pickup truck that already has four motorcycles loaded at the rear. Evidently, they drove out here on their bikes and then appropriated the vehicle after arriving, believing they would retrieve Alfred and myself from the void. Good. I had every confidence in their abilities.

Since the truck only has five seats, Alfred graciously elects to ride his new bike back to the cave. I offer all the boys the choice of riding in tandem with the old man or joining me in the truck. In a strange choice, all four state their wish to be passengers. I try not to dwell on this whilst starting the ignition and beginning the journey back. Damian rides shotgun and does not even have to fight for the position.

"I thought I had killed you both." He tells me after five minutes of deathly silence.

"I am glad you realised your mistake. I doubt the void would sustain our presence much longer." I say without looking over. I hear him offer a contemplative sigh.

"I'm sorry, Father. I should have tested my equipment properly. If I had..."

"Do not concern yourself with things that cannot be changed, son. Is the network operational?"

"Yes, Father."

"And the algorithm that predicts the time shifts, is it accurate?"

"We found you, didn't we?"

"Yes, you did. Both Alfred and myself are very grateful for your rescue. However, our focus should now return to creating the necessary devices to restore time to normal and end this madness."

"Good job you're not an asshole, huh? Imagine if your kids had rescued you from oblivion and you acted like it was no big deal. Can you even guess how pissed off they'd all be?" Jason says with too much sarcasm to ignore. I grasp his point. At this stage, I do not even know how long I have been gone. Time inside the void was difficult to measure.

"How long have I been...away?" I ask in an effort to broach the topic gently. Damian shrugs and folds his arms.

"Nothing like your other trip through time, Father, barely forty hours. It felt...much longer." He says. I reach over and squeeze his bicep in a gesture I hope voices my understanding of his plight. He has already lost me once or twice: losing me again would almost be too cruel to imagine. I decide to clear my throat and address them all.

"You are all too capable to lose me to something as trivial as fractured time. We will always find one another. No matter how dark everything seems, we will always find a solution. You found a solution to what should be an impossible problem. You should all be proud of your efforts. I am. Let us hurry and fix what is broken as soon as possible."