October 8th, 6:45 AM
Watchtower
Robin woke feeling weak and disoriented. At first, he thought the images in his head were from a nightmare, but then he realized that they were real. He recalled only small fragments of what had happened, but enough to scare him.
He sat up too quickly, and then fell back against the pillow of his bed, eyes rolling. Better not try that again, at least not yet, he thought.
He realized he was wearing his mask. In the bed across the room was an unconscious man he didn't recognize. But he didn't have to. The pain in his neck told him that his final memory was real. He'd been bitten by a dragon... no... it had been Nightwing. A cure.
Robin next realized his connection with Nightwing had been severed. He remembered clearly the feeling of Nightwing being in his head, and vice versa, knowing and not knowing what each was thinking. He remembered the decision Nightwing made. Giving up his humanity to try and capture Robin, knowing the others would kill him.
Because there was less in his system than Robin's, Nightwing had retained a portion of his old self, enough to keep his head in the game and not go on a rampage. He had not known in advance that he would be able to save Robin or provide a cure, he'd learned that after. At the time, Robin hadn't wanted it. He had been enraptured by what he'd become, thrilled at his own power.
That power was gone now, every last bit of it. He was just human now, and just as glad for it.
A few minutes later, he sat up again, this time with better results. Finding his suit next to his bed, he got dressed and went looking for Nightwing.
It wasn't long before he found the dragon's lair. Nobody had seen him on the way, no one stopped him from opening the door and entering the room. He closed the door behind him and sat down cross-legged, looking upon the sleeping dragon with a mixture of awe and pity.
A snake cannot be poisoned by its own venom, he knew. The dragon, likewise, would be unable to cure itself with a bite. Dragon he was, and dragon he would stay.
"I'm sorry," Robin said quietly "I wish I could save you, as you have saved me,"
The dragon opened its eyes and looked at him distantly, as though it barely recognized him. It blew through its nose and made a grumbling noise, scraping its front claws on the floor. Robin and the dragon continued to stare at one another for a long, long time, neither moving.
"But don't give up," Robin whispered "perhaps your cure could be modified, so it could work for you. It's not over yet. You didn't give up on me, and I won't give up on you,"
The dragon parted its jaws and blew some fire, apparently just because it could. Robin did not flinch away from the flames, but watched in sad fascination as figures and images danced through the flames, ghostly reminders of times passed and people long gone.
"You do still remember," Robin said.
The jaws closed, scissor bite teeth clicking together sharply.
October 11th, 07:00 AM
The people were beginning to wake up, and all the monsters had been treated. There were still the ones running loose to be dealt with, and still the matter of stopping their production. But they were a step closer to being nothing but a bad memory. There was a cure, which could also be used as a weapon to stop monsters in their tracks.
"I don't know if this will work," Atom told the dragon "but it's the best I've been able to come up with," he started towards the dragon with the syringe, but it rose to its feet and snarled threateningly.
"Here," Robin said "let me,"
Taking hold of the foreign object, Robin wondered if he would really have any better luck. Still, he had to try. He approached the dragon quietly, talking softly with no particular topic in mind. The dragon snarled again and recoiled, thumping its tail on the floor warningly and blowing fire through its nose. Its constantly bared teeth gleamed in the light. Robin sidled up to the dragon nervously, sweat forming on his face and hands. The dragon could eat him in one bite, and was unpredictable enough to do just that if he wasn't careful.
"Just hold still," Robin instructed "when I'm finished, then you can bite me, I don't care,"
The dragon hissed, but did not make any more threats. It stood still as Robin reached for its shoulder with the silver needle. Its eyes and Robin's met, their gazes held. Robin was frozen where he stood for a number of seconds. There was reluctance, perhaps fear even, in the dragon's gaze.
Like he had been, it was happy as it was, and hardly recalled being anything else. It was afraid of being vulnerable, of being able to be hurt. It didn't want to be human. It liked its blood lust, it wanted to kill. It didn't want to lose that.
"It's better this way," Robin informed the beast "you'll see,"
And with that, he jabbed the needle into the beast's arm.
With a roar, it reared up and flung him aside. He hit the wall hard, the breath knocked from his body. He lay on the floor where he landed, watching the dragon rear upright fully, a roaring blaze leaping from its open mouth. It clawed the syringe from its body, then swiped at the walls, the syringe, the floor, even itself.
Its deafening cries shook the Watchtower itself.
And then it was quiet. The beast, defeated and exhausted, lay down on the floor, and disappeared in a black cloud of thick smoke.
When it cleared, the dragon was gone, lost forever like the creatures before it. Though it had been an unnatural beast, who would have destroyed everything it touched in time, there was still a sense of mourning as the great monster, a creature right out of myth, breathed its final breath.
And then there was only Nightwing.
The beast was just a memory.
