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Chapter Thirteen
—The Team: Robin—
Robin saw his older self run away. Other Robin weaved between attacking robots, abandoning the battle for something else. But what? Robin wasn't sure. Whatever it was, Other Robin was chasing after it with a vengeance.
Curiosity piqued, and seeing a chance to talk to Other Robin alone, Robin slipped away from the war being waged between heroes and robots. The voices of his friends travelled with him around tall shipping containers and past heaps of rusting spare parts, while the sounds of battle grew more distant.
Having the voices of the others in his mind, closer than a whisper in his ear, was personal in a way that Robin may have once considered icky and wrong, but he'd slowly grown accustomed to. With the mind-link came a sense of harmony. Belonging. It couldn't be a coincidence that when they started routinely making use of the mind-link was around the same time they truly began meshing as a team.
"We should've brought Wolf," said Superboy's voice in Robin's head.
Robin tailed his counterpart at a safe distance, but he had a feeling that he could be right on Other Robin's heels and the teen wouldn't notice—he seemed completely intent in his pursuit.
"Wolf is very formidable-looking; we did not want to intimidate them," responded Aqualad. "But I admit that his help would be welcome right now."
Rounding several corners, one right after the other, Robin almost lost Other Robin. Unsure of what direction the Titan went, Robin leapt onto a row of train cars for a higher vantage point and spotted him below. Robin only caught a shadowy glimpse of Other Robin's quarry.
"These bots just won't die!" Artemis huffed. "Look: I blew that one's legs off and it's still crawling around."
There was a moment of guilt, where Robin felt bad for sneaking away from his friends. They wouldn't be able to understand. He hoped they wouldn't need him in the fight… But they had the Titans, too. They would be fine. (Unless the Titans attacked them again, which was a distinct possibility…)
"Rob, check it out!" Kid Flash exclaimed, with all the excitement of a cymbal clash. "That green kid turned into a legit sasquatch! How sick is that?"
Back on ground level, Robin continued his chase. This area of the train yard was more open, with rows of tracks free of junk. He could see the forms of both Other Robin and the mystery person, running to a pair of tunnels. If Other Robin looked back, he'd be able to see Robin, too. He never did.
"Robin?" asked Miss Martian, sounding worried. She must've noticed that their youngest teammate wasn't there—her floating would give her a clear view of the battlefield from above.
"Chasing a stray droid down the tracks," Robin lied smoothly. It was harder to lie in the mind-link than out loud, but he managed to send the deceitful thoughts without even a thin quaver of guilt betraying him. "BRB."
"Call us if you—"
"Please," he thought back curtly, cutting off Aqualad's voice. "I can take these tin cans with two arms tied behind my back."
No one questioned him there.
A caped figure disappeared into the lefthand tunnel mouth. The last he saw of it was a fluttering of dark fabric, before that melted into the darkness inside as well. He followed.
"Thanks for the hand—I mean, fist—Supey."
The voices hadn't left him yet. He didn't know whether that was comforting or distracting.
"That almost hit me! Their Speedy so did that on purpose!"
Robin couldn't see the exit. Just black, brightened intermittently by small lights on the walls. No Other Robin, either. Weird. Unless he was just ahead, just out of view? Robin could hear footsteps, echoing so much that he couldn't tell where they were coming from. Other Robin had to be here somewhere, and the only place he could have gone was forward.
"You know how I said I hate monkeys? Starting to hate robots, too."
Robin turned off the communicator in his ear. This was between him and… himself. He didn't want any interruptions.
"Miss Martian—enemy right behind you."
The other footfalls had long since stopped. But Robin hadn't caught up yet. Super weird...
"Got it, Aqualad. That's strange… I don't see the older Robin. I wonder where…"
The voices faded away, volume turning lower and lower as he ventured out of Miss Martian's range, until all he heard was his own breathing, his own footsteps, his own cape swishing in the still air as he hurried—with a stealthy kind of running that he'd learned from the best—through the tunnel. It took a curve midway, and as he followed it the far exit came into view. Still no Other Robin. Had he discovered a hidden path and backtracked?
Once Robin got closer to the exit, he could see that the tunnel opened into a scraggy field. Nothing but grass and train tracks. No place to hide and no Other Robin.
Ultra weird!
The muffled booming of an explosion reverberated off the smooth walls. From the battle? No, it sounded closer—much closer. Somewhere behind him. It had to be Other Robin.
Robin turned to go back, and found that someone was standing in his way.
"Hello, Robin."
A tall, solidly-built man wearing a strange mask—made of metal and covering his whole face, half orange, half black, with a single eye. He was dressed in grey and black, with plates of armor, kind of in a similar scheme as those robots Robin's team was fighting. Except this man was a lot more intimidating than those robots… He could probably crush Robin's neck in one hand.
Robin silently struggled to place a name to the man. He was certain that he'd never met this guy in person before, but the orange-and-black mask stirred at his memory. Second-hand mentions, years ago. If he could just recall the name… All he remembered was that the name had been spoken with quiet dread; not once was it thrown around carelessly. And, didn't it have something to do with swimming? No, that was stupid.
"You're not who I'm looking for," said Robin, pursing his lips in annoyance.
But wait a second, this guy was probably who Other Robin was looking for. He looked around the same height as the figure Robin had seen running. Curiosity was the only thing that kept Robin from: A) turning and walking away or B) attacking… for now.
"Oh? And who are you looking for, exactly?"
"An angry, bossy version of me. Can't miss him—he's dressed brighter than a set of traffic lights. Seen anyone like that?"
"Perhaps."
The dark eye was watching Robin steadily—appraising him, judging him—which made Robin feel nervous, like he was taking a test, and he wasn't sure what outcome he should be more wary of: passing or failing?
Robin sighed. He knew what the man was doing, and he didn't feel like playing this game. "Okay, you're obviously bluffing. And I'm in a hurry. So… Bye! Leaving now."
The good thing about tunnels? There were two ways out. If he couldn't go back the direction he came, he could exit and loop around the long way.
The backwards step on Robin's part was countered with a step forward by the man, whose significantly longer stride shrunk the distance between them. "On the contrary, Robin. I have the information you're looking for."
"And instead of telling me, you're going to gloat and play mind games." Typical bad-guy behaviour. Robin had been through similar situations countless times before. "Great. I'd like to know now. I don't have time for this."
"Patience." The man held up a placating hand. "I'll tell you, Robin. On one condition."
Robin offered a disinterested sneer. "Yeah?"
"Fight me. Impress me, and I'll tell you."
What part of I don't have time for this did this guy not understand?
"No, thank you. I'll find him on my own. I don't need you to tell me where he is." Robin made to turn and walk—maybe run—away.
He wasn't fleeing, he just really, really had to find Other Robin, and couldn't afford to be held up. Way different than fleeing. Way different. What was the term Red Arrow had used before? 'Strategic retreat'?
"That isn't the only answer I have to give." The man's remark was clearly intended to make Robin stop in his tracks and draw him back. And it worked.
Another distant explosion. Scowling faintly, Robin strained on his tip-toes to try to see past the man that was serving as a road-block. Other Robin was back there, and the shortest path to him was through this guy—shortest, but not easiest.
Refusing to budge, the man stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "Even if you find him, he will refuse to talk to you."
"And you know this because…?"
"I know more about him than you can comprehend," said the stranger cryptically. Robin could almost hear his smirk. "My offer still stands."
The offer. All Robin had to do was fight him. And at the moment, Robin really did want to punch this guy who was starting to get on his nerves with the patronizing tone and the taunting hints and the name that Robin couldn't remember.
This man talked to Robin like he was a child. Robin never passed on an opportunity to show up someone for making the mistake of underestimating the Boy Wonder.
Robin smiled slyly. Offer accepted.
"I've seen an after-school special with a plot like this," Robin told the man conversationally. Because that's what Robin always did: make conversation. It was the best way to distract opponents.
Within the mask, the man's eye narrowed in what Robin could only assume was amusement. "Have you, now?"
Keep talking, Robin. Keep him distracted. "Yep. This is a perfect example of stranger danger." With one hand, Robin gestured carelessly. The other hand he placed on his hip, letting his cape fall over it so his enemy didn't see him reaching for his utility belt. "The only difference is that you didn't drive up in a white van and offer me candy."
The man made a low, contemptuous noise in his throat, like a laugh yet nothing like a laugh, that grated on Robin's nerves. "You're—" Fast as a strike of lightning, the man swatted Robin's birdarang aside. "—too slow. Really, Robin. You'll have to do better than that."
"I will."
The initial attack had just been a test. Now Robin knew how fast his opponent was. And while the man was quick, Robin maintained that he himself was the quicker one.
Time to put that theory to the test. Robin wasn't sure what this guy's weak point was—he was all armor and solid muscle—so he went for the usual failsafe: the face. There was a mask, but if he could knock it off with a flying kick…
The man stood completely still, watching—allowing—Robin to aim a foot at his face. At the last moment before impact there was a blur of movement and a vice-like grip latched onto Robin's ankle.
As Robin dangled upside-down, held up by the ankle, he realized that he may have underestimated this guy's agility. A little.
No big deal. Robin was already swinging himself up, breaking the man's grip (again, he felt like the man was allowing it). For one fleeting second he used his enemy's metal-plated arm as a foothold, a stepping stone to spring off of so he could reach a hand to the mask—
—only to be punched in the chest by the man's other fist. Except it wasn't like getting punched with a fist as much as it was like getting punched with, say, a boulder.
Robin did a backwards somersault in the air and no sooner had he landed lightly in a crouch than his opponent was attacking again. Punches and kicks, strikes and blows that Robin could barely dodge, as quick as he was. There was no time to think of witty battle conversation or laugh at his enemy in attempts to frustrate or unnerve, because he was too focused on avoiding those knuckles coming at his face, or that boot about to stomp down on his back.
Okay, Robin had definitely underestimated this guy's agility. A lot.
He needed to think of a strategy, but he wasn't given a chance to do more than act—fluidly moving from a roll to a handspring to a sideways duck-and-step to a spin… There was no opportunity to formulate a plan. Dodge, dodge, dodge. He knew he couldn't take many hits from this guy.
Robin was about to leap away from the man yet again (Dodge, dodge, dodge), only to be wrenched back down before he could leave the ground. His left foot was stuck; caught between railway ties. Bad. Very bad. Robin tried to turn away and evade the man's next punch but his foot was stuck and he couldn't move far enough out of the way. The fist rammed into his shoulder, and the force sent Robin flying back. His foot was wrested free, at the expense of his leg being twisted at an angle that it should never naturally take—for just one split second, but that was all that was needed to do the damage.
It didn't start hurting until after he landed on his side on the sharp train tracks. He gave a soft hiss and fought between clamping his hands around his leg protectively and not being able to bear touching it because it would just hurt worse. Something had popped. Something had torn and his knee was a tight knot of screaming pain. A locked joint that he didn't dare try to move or put pressure on, or his mind would spin from the agony.
He was an acrobat with three working limbs. He could do this. All he needed to do was avoid panicking and remember his training. Taking a deep breath, he lifted himself off up his elbows into a handstand and did a front walk-over to put himself back on his feet—one foot, careful not to put any weight on his left leg. Execution was a bit awkward… No points for style… But hey, it worked.
Robin stood—wobbly, but standing—and turned to face his opponent.
Hand-to-hand won't work, said a memory of Bruce's voice. You'll have to try something else. Once he's close enough, use your taser. Sounded like a plan.
"Robin, you should be more careful," said the man with so much condescension that it was nauseating. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"You sure about that?" he panted, watching as the man took one more step forward. A little closer…
The air suddenly felt cold, like an arctic breeze was blowing past. Who turned down the dial? It was so freezing that Robin was surprised when his breath didn't escape in white puffs.
Oddly, the man didn't seem to take notice of the unnatural cold. "Dear boy, if I wanted to hurt you, you'd—"
Robin didn't get to hear the end of that sentence, because the man was ripped to pieces before his eyes. Words that Robin couldn't understand were chanted by a calm, forceful voice, ringing off the tunnel walls. Black energy, darker than the darkest shadows, bled over the man, consuming him. And then there was a horrendous snapping and he was just… parts. The part closest to Robin was a gloved hand, splayed open.
Slowly, Robin turned his wide gaze from the disembodied hand, and saw a cloaked figure with glowing eyes of an eerie white, glaring down at the man's mask that lay on the ground. Fury was emanating from the newcomer in waves. The anger and hatred the cloaked figure felt for that man was too powerful—inhuman, unearthly—and was manifesting into a palpable force that rippled through the air, warping the train tracks on the ground and making them creak; shorting out a nearby emergency light with a crisp fizzle.
And then the glowing eyes were raised and fixed on Robin…
Robin tried not to panic. He was injured, he just saw a man killed with no warning, and he was alone, but panicking would only make it worse. He had his taser, he could—
"Robin, it's okay. I'm here to help." The hood was removed and the eyes stopped glowing. The temperature returned to normal. "I'm Raven. A friend." Her face was pale and round; her purple eyes large and full of… concern?
His throat was dry. Trying to swallow just made it drier. "You… You killed him."
"No, I didn't. He was just a robot, Robin. See?" Raven pointed at a severed arm lying nearby, which was sparking futilely. Of course, Robin should've known—he'd thought it was the pain in his knee making him see stars. "He was just a robot," Raven repeated with a frown, more to herself than to him.
"Just a robot? A pretty good robot," Robin muttered. He tried to put weight on his hurt leg, and immediately regretted it. The intense spike of pain had since transformed into a constant throbbing that was by no means better.
Her frown deepened when she saw him wince. "You're hurt. If you stand still, I can fix it."
Raven lifted up a hand, showing him how it glowed with whitish light. Robin looked at her skeptically for a moment, but remembered how she did the same thing for Beast Boy, and nodded.
He braced himself when she placed her hand on his knee, expecting it to be cold—cold like the air had been when she attacked the robot—but instead it was pleasantly cool, like rainwater. And the pain… His knee was wiped clean of pain so abruptly that he had to bite back a gasp of relief.
Her hand moved to his jaw, to a bleeding gash that he hadn't even noticed—must've been from when he fell on the tracks.
"Better?" she asked. "Is that it?"
"I think so." Robin tested his knee, hinging and unhinging. It gave a terrific crack, and everything fell into place, aligning perfectly. Like the injury never happened. Weeks of healing, physical therapy, Alfred and Bruce fussing, and missed missions—things he'd been starting to dread simply evaporated. He was completely awed. "Thank you." He didn't know what else to say.
"I'm glad you're okay." Except she didn't look glad; she looked grave. "We should head back to—" Raven was about to turn away from him and pull her hood back on.
"Wait! Can— Can we talk, for a minute?" This was the first time a Titan didn't brush him off or attack him. Maybe…
She hesitated, her fingers clutching at the fabric she was going to use to hide her face. "They'll be wondering where we are."
"Please, Raven. Please." Robin smiled when Raven's hands fell to her sides and her hood fell down her back. He kicked at the robot's dismembered hand with his toe. "Who was that guy?"
"Slade. One of his robot duplicates. He's an enemy of ours."
Slade. No, the name didn't fit. Robin still couldn't recall the correct name, but he knew that wasn't it.
"He got sucked here like the rest of your bad guys?"
"No, Slade isn't here by accident. It's complicated. Even we don't understand…" She trailed off and shook her head. "I'm not the one who should tell you about Slade. You need to ask Robin."
"Like he'll tell me anything," said Robin bitterly. "Why won't he talk to me?"
"I don't think he knows what to say to you."
"Why? Do I embarrass him or something? Does he see me as some stupid kid, and can't believe he used to be exactly like me? Does he think I can't take care of myself? Because I can. I'm just as good as him."
"You trouble him," she said simply. The way Raven was watching Robin made Robin think that he troubled her, too.
"Why is he so troubled? What's the big deal?" he asked the ceiling loudly, because he couldn't raise his voice at Raven. It wasn't Raven he was frustrated with… it was Other Robin, for being so stubborn.
"That's Robin's business. If he doesn't want to talk to you, then it's for a good reason." She looked sorry to say it.
Robin didn't want sorry. He wanted answers. "What reason?" he urged, all but begging. "I know you know."
She fidgeted before answering, proof that his accusation had been right on the dot. "I have no right to talk to you about our Robin, especially when he's made it so clear that he's not comfortable with you knowing anything about him. He's a private person, and it takes a long time to gain his trust. Telling you without his permission would mean betraying that trust, and that's something I would never do."
Robin frowned in suspicion. "How much do you know about him?"
"More than he would probably like me to."
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Robin slouched against the tunnel wall. Everyone kept giving him cryptic answers, and he was getting sick of it. "I hate this. You guys can't just show up out of nowhere like this and expect us not to be interested to know more about you! I mean, you're from another universe! It's awesome."
Raven shrugged inside her cloak. "This is the way it has to be, Robin. It's best for everyone if we avoid interfering with this world. Things need to play out on their own after our mission is completed, and that means we need to keep our distance."
"Right. Fine." He crossed his arms, not skimping on the petulance. "Keep all the distance you need. We wouldn't want your Robin getting all uncomfortable around me, would we?"
"It's not just Robin. The others... Some of them are looking for things here. They have the best intentions—just as you have the best intentions—but they're only going to end up more hurt than they already are."
"I just want to talk to him, Raven. When am I going to get another chance to talk to an older version of me?" Answer: never. "I want to know what happened to my team, my friends, and how he ended up leader, and—"
"Robin, he's an older version of you, but he's not you from the future. You need to know that. We're not from the future. We're not a promise of what's to come, and you're not a chance for us to change our pasts." She looked aside, lost in her thoughts for a moment. "I think we're having trouble remembering that, too. Deep down, we can't help but ask: What if?"
He opened his mouth to ask more questions—there were still so many questions—but Raven's attention was diverted by a chiming, yellow communicator that was pulled somewhere from the folds of her cloak.
"Raven," came Other Robin's imploring voice from the device, "please tell me you're with—"
"I am. Everything's fine, Robin. We'll be there soon."
Time to go, thought Robin as he leaned forward, pulling himself away from the concrete wall and onto his feet. Raven didn't need to say it, but Robin knew. Their chat was over, and they had to go back to their respective teams.
"So, you're not looking for anything here? In this world?" he asked offhandedly. He realized that Raven had told him about her team, about Other Robin, but hadn't said a single thing about herself.
She lifted her hood back over her head, and before the shadows hid her face he swore he saw a smile. "I'm too busy looking out for my friends."
oOo
At first Robin was apprehensive about traveling by Raven's powers, since the image of that robot being torn limb-from-limb by the same black magic-y stuff that was surrounding himself was fresh in his memory, but the worry and claustrophobia passed and he found it to be a surprisingly mild experience, like riding on an elevator in the dark. Except the elevator could go in all directions.
The 'elevator' doors opened at the scene of the big battle. Both teams were standing amid strewn robotic body parts. Robin knew they'd be able to take care of it together. And hey, the two teams weren't arguing or trying to kill each other. That was an improvement.
The faces of Robin's friends cycled between expressions of shock at his sudden appearance, indignation that he'd run off, relief (hat he was back, and then distress. The last one confused him, until Kid Flash rushed to his side, eyes wide with worry as he yelled in Robin's ear.
"Dude, you're bleeding!" Right. Forgot about that. Robin wiped the crusty streak of red from the side of his face with his gauntlet as Kid Flash kept asking frantic questions so rapidly that Robin wouldn't be able to answer even if he tried. "What happened? Was it one of those robots? Or did that creepy Titan girl attack you? Where did you go? Why'd you turn your communicator off? We were freaking out!"
Kid Flash clearly hadn't been at a level of freaking out extreme enough to make him lose his appetite, hence the energy-bar crumbs being sprayed at Robin's face as the speedster kept shouting questions.
Ears ringing, Robin pushed his friend away. "Chill, KF."
Aqualad looked down at Robin with concern. "Are you injured?"
"No. I was, but thanks to Raven, now I'm jured."
His teammates all exchanged a look. They seemed to agree that if he was okay enough to make up words, then they could breathe easy.
"You've got to stop doing the ninja thing," Kid Flash told Robin, giving him a small shove. "Someone should put a bell on you."
The rest of the Team was expressing similar renewed concerns about his frequent disappearances and Robin tuned them out as he glanced over at where Other Robin was talking to Raven, near the other gathered Titans.
The Titans' leader seemed stricken. Why? wondered Robin.
Other Robin kept looking from Robin to Raven, domino mask crinkled in anxiety. "Raven, what happened?"
"He went after you, Robin, and instead found Slade. It wasn't actually him—it was a robot—but they fought."
Other Robin took a few steps forward. The look on the older boy's face was so cold it nearly froze Robin on the spot. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he asked Robin quietly, every word heavily weighted.
Robin would have preferred it if he yelled. That calm, severe tone made Robin feel like he was facing down an infuriated Batman. He became aware of his team tightening their circle around him, as though to protect him from Other Robin's anger.
Raven came to the younger Boy Wonder's defense, telling her leader and friend in a stern voice, "No, Robin. He doesn't."
Stepping away from his team, Robin bravely faced his counterpart. "You owe me some answers." He waited, but Other Robin just stared at him. "Well?"
Everyone, from both teams, was watching Other Robin. Stubborn as he was, he caved quickly. "That depends on the question," he answered reluctantly, not meeting Robin's gaze.
Robin had lots of questions—a whole list of questions that he'd been adding to for days now. But he couldn't shake the mask, the lingering taunts, or the single, calculating eye from his mind.
"Who is Slade?"