Alright...Let's see how this chapter goes.
Sorry this took so long but Senior Year's kicking my butt.
The docks were quiet that night and Con-El found himself shivering with anticipation. He'd always found himself this way when they were on a manhunt of sorts. He'd never thought that it would be possible that he and the team would be chasing Anthony 'Tony' Zucco though and he found his nerves thrumming with excitement; his hands wanting nothing more than to latch onto the man's collar and yank him into the air until he surrendered, all the while threatening to drop him and be done with it.
The team was about as buzzed as he was; the new Robin restless and shifting about on his perch in such a way that only Con-El could tell he was doing it. Batman would have been proud if he'd been there; irritated but proud that it took super hearing to detect the shifting. Though, Con-El still remembered the good old days when Dick would sneak up on him out of boredom rather than stay put.
"Stop shifting about Robin," he hissed mentally, a bit surprised at how bitter he sounded.
Everyone else picked up on it; naturally.
"What crawled up your ass?" Roy thought a bit surprised at the clone.
Con-El shrugged, quickly deciding to ignore their emotions despite how easily they filled his head and body. As the years had passed, he'd found himself getting to understand why Dick had always had a dislike for the telepathic links between them all. There wasn't much privacy and the onslaught of other peoples' emotions and thoughts were a bit suffocating at times.
Robin – Tim – slipped from his original spot to another with a better view, his cape lifting into the wind like a kite as he crouched on the top of a crane. Con-El found himself slipping across the tops of metal ship containers with deathly quiet steps, moving towards the entrance of the docks with a determined expression. At some point, he'd learned to lock away bits of his thoughts from the others and he didn't mind the chance to practice the skill.
Especially not tonight; not when the past-selves would have snuck out of the apartment at least half an hour ago thinking they had left a sleeping Dick Grayson in his bedroom. He glanced at an available clock and found himself picking up his pace. Another ten minutes and the past-selves would slip into the docks, following rumor and police band radios they'd managed to overhear. He wanted to growl in irritation and laugh in amazement at his own personal stupidity.
Seriously, it wasn't everyday your past came to dance idiotically right in front of you and as cool as it seemed to be in speculation, Con-El knew for certain that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
M'Gann called him and he called back that he was going to make sure no one snuck up on them through the front entrance. It was all he had to do. He was trustworthy after all. No one expected him to do anything that would jeopardize his standing either; not when he'd worked so hard to get it in the first place. Though, there was still the fact that the original Super was brainwashable. There were no promises for Con-El in that department.
The entrance gate was dark and remained chained closed when he got there. He dropped to one knee, a fist on the cool metal as he propped the other hand on his other knee. He could count down the seconds. Three….Two….One….
He didn't even bother to smirk when he spotted the original Robin sticking a landing inside, a line in his hand. As he collected it, his own past-self landed with a softer than usual thud on Robin's left. He could hear Robin muttering that this was a bad idea and his he could already remember his past-self saying he was tired of being cooped up in that apartment and that Robin couldn't really argue with him on that point either.
"You two shouldn't be here," he said, his voice rumbling like thunder. He tried to not laugh when the two flinched and spun their heads about to find him.
Naturally, Robin spotted him first.
"Con," he hissed before pointing. Conner's blue eyes – Where they always that light? – lifted until they met Con-El's own cobalt orbs. They widened for a moment before narrowing in understandable suspicion. He'd been stuck with Dick for the past four days. Con-El distinctly remembered wanting to strangle the raven haired superstar detective.
"As great as it is to notice my memory's still as good as ever, you two really shouldn't be here," he thundered gently. "Unless of course you want the team to know you're here which will make things far more complicated on our end than it needs to be."
"Our end?" Robin hissed, as if he feared one of the others had managed to get super hearing. "As far as I can see you're really the only one doing anything!"
Conner flushed a bright red and Con-El blinked in surprise at it. He'd forgotten how embarrassed and inanely proud he'd been when he'd heard those words. Of course, he did remember the bubble bursting comment he was going to say.
"I'm not doing shit," he shrugged nonchalantly. It wasn't really a lie either. He wasn't doing all that much on this. He was keeping the team out of the loop to be sure but compared to what he knew Dick was doing…He wasn't doing shit. "It's all Dick."
"Yeah right," Robin muttered as his cheeks brightened. Con-El felt the amazing urge to swat him upside the head. He wasn't a complete idiot, and his past-self wasn't as oblivious as the others seemed to think he was. He'd realized the smile Dick sported was familiar, that he spoke of League things with irritation and full understanding, and that he – Con-El – wasn't exactly the most normal friend to have for a normal cop.
Besides, there had to be something up with Richard Grayson if they were running into him so often; in their line of work it was a bit worrying when you ran into a person multiple times in your own damned timeframe. Meeting them in the future, finding they have League ties, and that they are fully aware of the situation was something else entirely.
"Trust me; he's pulling all the strings."
"Whatever," Robin growled. Con-El clamped his mouth shut to avoid giving something away as a precaution. He wasn't going to be the one to let something slip; especially not if he was competing with Dick who could give anyone a run for their money.
"Superboy," Wally called in his head. "We've got movement!"
He let out a long groan as he straightened. "Give me a minute," he called back. To the boys, he said, "Go back to Dick's."
"No," they chorused. Con-El's eye twitched. He'd forgotten about that.
"Great kids Superboy," a snarky voice hissed a few feet back. Con-El spun to find someone new on the shipping container roofs, hiding in the shadows. He could see their smirk though and it sent chills up his spine. "Now…why would uniformed kids go to 'Dick's'?"
"Superboy? Who's with you?" Kaldur asked in a panic.
"No one," Con-El growled before launching himself at the stranger, no longer caring about the shields in his head as he swung a meaty fist at the man. He was a bit surprised when he dodged with Batman accuracy, flipping away gracefully and landing with a snide laugh.
By now, I'm on that container with Robin, Con-El thought bitterly as he shot at the man faster than before, a hand shooting out to grab his shirt collar only to find a jacket and nothing much else. Wait a second…Oh this'll be fun.
"Superboy! Do you need assistance?" Kaldur called. Con-El could see through Kaldur's eyes that they had spotted Zucco who was shifting about on the docks nervously.
"Nah, I got this one; whoever he is," he replied. "You guys take care of that one. I'll be fine."
Kaldur reluctantly left him to his own devices, ordering the others to surround and watch Zucco, their prey of the month. Meanwhile, Con-El was digging into the déjà vu feeling as deeply as he could to predict moves and counter as fast as possible. He mainly remembered what he'd done; a punch, a jab, right kick, a spin, a jump, a dodge, and a swat or two. He couldn't help but realize they were adaptations of Canary's fighting style and Batman's – naturally leaning a bit more towards Canary than Batman considering she'd taught him more often – and that it wasn't quite as graceful as this person's or as good as a Robin's.
It did the job though. He managed to get in a few solid hits without giving too much damage to the man who ducked and dodged, jabbed, and kicked out at him at intervals but in the end was trying to find a way around him. Well, he wasn't one to be ignored was he?
He pivoted on his heel, shooting a leg out to catch the man in the ribs only to feel air and see the person backflipping away. They landed near the edge of the container in a crouching position; fingertips on the metal near their toes where most of their weight was centered. The person glared at him, silvery hair hiding one of his beady brown eyes, for a moment before he shot at him with Dick-worthy speeds and Con-El had no choice but to move out of the way.
He wasn't quite the brick wall Superman was so if someone hit him hard enough, he could skid off the container fairly easily. Those speeds usually led to his feet not finding purchase too. He knew that for a fact. The person caught themselves with a strange ease and smirked at Con-El in a way that reminded him of Joker to a point.
"Man you're pretty good," the person laughed as they straightened out. Con-El glanced over to the boys who were watching intently but staying out of it; instinct and visual proof telling them to let the bigger Conner handle the problem human. Though, Con-El knew that even a mortal could damage a god.
Batman did it all the time. Dick did too.
"You're not as good as Dickie Grayson though," the person said with a sick smirk. Con-El's hands tightened into spheres and he almost launched himself at the person in a red rage…Until of course, his memory kicked in.
"Fuck off Mallory," a deep tenor voice snarled from above before suddenly, Mallory was flung across the containers, landing with a thud and bouncing a couple times as he spun about like a limp doll. In front of Con-El was the devil himself, clad in skin hugging black with a blue 'V' rising from his sternum and racing over his collar bone down to his middle finger and ring finger on both hands.
"'Bout time Nightwing," he muttered as Nightwing rose from his landing morphed into an upward kick smoothly, his left shoulder rolling as he sniffed at Con-El in acknowledgement.
"Meet my resident sniper fuck," Nightwing sighed, waving towards Mallory who was struggling to his feet. "One sec…Oi, Mallory! Dick Grayson wasn't Robin you dipshit! There was indisputable proof!"
Mallory growled like an animal before launching towards Nightwing with deadly speed, a knife in each hand suddenly. Con-El hopped out of their way as Nightwing backed up from the cuts, his domino masked face cool and calm; judging. When his feet were only another step away from the edge, he pulled out a pair of escrima sticks and blocked the knives with ease and shoved the man away with a slight grunt.
"Damn it all; this was supposed to be an easy night," Nightwing sighed disdainfully. "I was supposed to talk to the Martian and get some information but no….you and Zucco just had to show. Up. In. My. Fucking. City!"
Each word became more and more punctuated as he whacked away the knifes, sending them flying and then laying into the idiot with scary precision. Upper cut, straight jab, right pivot kick, roundhouse, and then a leg swipe to take out the already wobbling guy's feet. Con-El couldn't quiet keep himself from applauding softly with long claps.
"Bravo," he snickered as Mallory struggled once again to get up. Nightwing slammed a heavily booted foot onto his chest and pressed down, making it difficult for him to breathe. "You look like Bats you know that right?"
If looks could kill, Nightwing would have become a murderer a very long time ago. His glare did manage to get Con-El and the boys to shiver.
"Right down to the glare," Con-El pressed, whacking away the thrown escrima stick with ease and a laugh.
"You're worse than Superman," Nightwing shot back, his voice bubbling with strangled mirth.
"I do my best."
"Well I don't."
"Then stop resorting to your training."
"Fuck you too Supes." Despite his words, Nightwing was snickering a bit uncontrollably.
"I win this one," Con-El smirked.
"Yeah, yeah; shut up."
The boys were naturally staring at the two like they had three heads apiece. Nightwing, what with his better vantage point smirked and signaled at them.
"They look confused," Nightwing said as Mallory started to lash out at his powerful leg. He glanced down at the man with a sneer. "I'm in the middle of something here Mallory; stop moving so I can concentrate."
"Fuck you," Mallory snarled back, his voice gurgling thanks to the heavy boot on his chest. Con-El glanced back to the boys and gave a soft sigh before pressing a finger to his ear.
"Hey guys, guess who joined the party," he said. It didn't take telepathy to know who was going to be irritated enough to show it and who had enough patience or discipline not to.
"Aw man…" Wally groaned the loudest as Roy and Artemis managed to strangle their own moans of irritation. Kaldur and M'Gann were silent. Tim was too but Con-El could just see the confused look on his face. "What's he doing here?"
"Uh…his city KF," Con-El muttered. Mallory gave a gurgling noise again and Con-El recognized it a little too easily. "HEY! Don't choke him!"
"He shot a cop friend of mine," Nightwing snarled. "He deserves it."
"We don't need another Blockbuster incident Nightwing," Con-El growled, striding towards his friend to pull him off the man if he had to. Nightwing gave him a glare which made him falter a bit but he sent back an equal glare.
"Blockbuster deserved it," Nightwing replied, "and you fucking know that was the only way to stop him."
"You let him get shot!"
"Don't tell me you've got a perfect record Con-El," Nightwing muttered. "I know Poison Ivy can beg to differ."
"Hey, no bringing up things that far in the past."
"Then let my issues go; you all leave Batman alone. Hell, you all leave Superman alone with his stupidity…well, until you showed up that is. Then, we were all in his business."
Con-El flushed a bit at the memory of how he'd been the reason Batman had suddenly become the great father figure while Superman was anything but. Then again, B01 Robin's proneness to getting himself injured hadn't helped put Superman in any better light since he seemed unable to ever beat Batman to rescuing his protégé.
"He's gotten over it at least right?" Con-El shot back.
"Whoopity," Nightwing muttered, his heel digging into Mallory's chest.
"You're gonna strangle him," Conner yelled, his boots thudding over the metal. Con-El's arm shot up to stop him, his blue eyes glaring the past-self down.
"I have a point Nightwing," Con-El said, his ears picking up the telltale whoosh of someone coming their way. His past-self had heard it too, his body tensed. He could hear B01 Robin's heart speed up a bit as he watched, could tell his mind was racing through the information. A soft thud caught their attention and Nightwing's head shot up to find their new version of Robin on another container near them, his domino mask wide as he stared at the original Robin.
"Whoa," Tim breathed out.
"Whoa," B01 reiterated. "What the hell?"
"You replaced him already huh Bats?" Nightwing muttered as Mallory looked back to see who they were looking at. He looked about as confused as Con-El remembered himself feeling. "Hey Mallory lookie there; proof you and your brother were fucking wrong."
"Fuck you," Mallory spat. "Batman hasn't changed at all. You can always get new sidekicks."
Con-El tried to not see red but he knew he should be really glad that Roy wasn't present. He would have throttled the little bastard as well. Nightwing gave a grind of his boot in response.
"We graduated from sidekicks to partners," Nightwing explained with syrupy silk. "That's what Young Justice was for after all; for us to prove we could go independent if we fucking wanted to. Helped we managed to find a Superman clone and bring him to our side."
There was that knowing smirk again; the one Con-El knew he'd recognized in Dick Grayson. He tried to not sigh. So much for making sure they tried to keep that thing a secret.
Tim dropped to their container roof and strode over towards Con-El, domino mask still mostly white from the amazement at the boy nearby wearing a uniform close to his only with less red.
"Red Robin," Con-El stated casually. "Meet the original Robin." He nodded towards B01 as he spoke, blue eyes still fixed on Nightwing.
"Nice to meet you," Tim stated with a somewhat shy wave. He glanced over to Nightwing. "Uh, Nightwing; you mind letting the guy up? We can cuff him and he won't be able to do anything." He was pulling a set of cuffs from his utility belt as he spoke and Nightwing muttered a few choice words as he bent to spin the man onto his stomach, pinning his hands to his back as he did so, earning groans and other curses.
"Give them here kid," Nightwing sighed, a hand out for the cuffs, his knee keeping the man's hands pinned as well as his other hand. Tim handed them to him, their movements almost symbiotic somehow.
"I'm suddenly flashing to you giving Bats cuffs for someone," Con-El laughed.
"Shut up," Nightwing drawled as he cuffed the man. Tim was blushing a bit.
"What? It's true."
"Shut up Con-El," Nightwing repeated. He yanked Mallory up and then glanced at Tim with a bit of care that could only be shared by brothers in arms. He glanced back to the past-selves and couldn't help but see that they had seen it too.
"Uh…the others are catching Zucco," Tim mumbled towards Con-El. Nightwing gave a laugh and shook his head in irritation.
"Keep him away from me," Nightwing growled.
Tim snapped his mouth shut and Con-El glared at his old friend, fully understanding why he didn't want to be near the man. Then again, he shouldn't want to be near the rather shady person he had cuffed. The Mallory Brothers were very well known by the League – and a select few of the YJ section. They'd figured out who the original Dynamic Duo was years ago, tried to take them out, and were gassed by Joker.
They'd been thought insane after they'd been laughing hysterically for almost three months. William "Will" Mallory had come out of it first, claimed that Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson were Batman and Robin. The thing was, being gasses by Joker tended to leave psychological damage in its wake so no one took him seriously. When his little brother, Andy Mallory, started spouting the same things, the cops looked into their family history.
It wasn't hard to find that Bruce Wayne had befriended the two because of the social circles. It was nice to know that their relationship had been completely legitimate – save for the brothers taking supplies from their "big brother" kind of trips for their "extracurricular activities" at night. Needless to say, the two sparkling socialites who didn't have dirty parents or any priors themselves, were given heads up and then given the choice to press slander charges or not.
Bruce hadn't wanted to lay slander charges but he had; adding in something to the effect of saying the brothers had mental scaring from their past – parents killed by cops; naturally they dislike Batman, cops, or anyone who has seemingly moved past family members' deaths. Besides, both Wayne and Grayson had lost family to criminals and were understandably pro-Clean Gotham.
"You shouldn't talk," Con-El muttered softly. "Not when you have him cuffed."
"Then you take him," Nightwing muttered as he shoved the dirty blonde haired man towards Con-El with a little too much force. The elder clone caught the man and gave him a dark, warning glare to stay silent. "At least his brother got the fuck over that bullshit," Nightwing was muttering softly as he ran a hand through his ebony hair.
Con-El glanced over towards the boys behind him, watching carefully as they shared confused, irritated, and worried looks to one another. He remembered how he'd felt as he'd watched himself talk to Nightwing and Tim, listening to the conversation without the understanding he had now. He could remember the growing urge to get home and away from the men before him.
He also remembered however, that he'd been fairly aware that they were their best shot home.
Please review.