The art of trying Chapter 25: Bullet With Butterfly Wings, a teen titans fanfic

A/N:

Well this chapter turned out a lot longer than I'd planned. (I mean like, a freaking lot.) And yet I finished it way sooner than I thought I would. I hope it won't be too long before a next update. But I think I will take a day off or two after this. I've been writing into the wee hours as of late. And damn, I could use some sleep.

But anyway, thank you all for reading and following this story so far. If you've stuck this far, that must mean you like something about this story, and that fills me both with pride and joy. (Unless you're a masochist or something, in which case, still 'thanks', I guess?) Anyway, in the spirit of that. I thank our new follower since the last chapter's update.

And as per usual, I'd like to especially thank those who took their precious time in formulating a review. It means the world to me.

So:

JasonVUk, Glad you liked the chapter! Heads up; sorry if you find this one going against what you hope. (Oh, and you a bad ass!)

Based Bobcat, Cool dude. I didn't know you were Dutch! Zolang jij niet met 'domme belgen' moppen begint, zal ik me inhouden over 'gierige Nederlanders'. :D Just so you know though, this isn't the end to the arc yet. I'm planning a third and final arc after this one. But I don't know exactly how many chapters this or that one will be. Bedankt voor de comment, ik vond hem zalig.

CleoArrow, Thank you for so often leaving your two cents. Your comment this time was very flattering and made me reread the part you referenced with Cyborg with some glee. Here's to giving you what you wished for. But one should always be carefull of what one wishes for.

Kountry101, Thank you so much for leaving that thoughtful and delightful reply. It really made my day.

Disclaimer: I own the rights to TT. I bought them today, on the first of april 2015. In the words of Cyborg: 'Booyah'.

BTW, question time. This was originally written as a Raven-Beast Boy story. And they are still in my eyes the main focus. But, and especially in the second arc, Robin and Starfire obviously also a romance which is part of the story. Should I add that pairing to the summary, you think? I'm not sure myself because Raven and BB are the leads of this story... but then again... Ah, I don't know...

Update counter: 1

Chapter 23: Bullet With Butterfly Wings
Alternate title: The Smashing Pumpkins

Robin parked the truck in the abandoned tunnel. It was as far as he could get the car away from the unconscious crooks, just in case, and as close as he could get it to Hangar 85 where The Calendar Man was waiting with his hostage, without the truck being rammed into by a tram. It also happened to be that the abandoned tunnel where he parked the truck still had the name of the station clearly in sight on a white sign. "Emperor Häuptling" it read. After taking the phone-like device Freeze had given him earlier that night from his belt, he made sure it was clearly visible in the picture. He took a few more before getting ready to send the images. He made sure Nora, in her cryo-sleep, was unmistakeably recognizable as well.

It took him a few seconds to be certain the pictures were good enough, but he wasted hardly any time in sending them to the desperate scientist. If he did that much Starfire would at least be safe, possibly she would already be set free. And by driving to Emperor Häuptling he would be close enough to stop Julian Day before midnight, saving Steve the hostage as well. It was close, but he could make it, and his friends could take care of the Great White Shark. They had to.

Somewhat nervously his thumb found the 'send' option. He watched the icon load intently, preparing to tell him the pictures had been sent. He wished his thoughts would be with the orange alien, but the frustration of seeing the icon keep circling without changing to a positive message was too great to focus on anything else. At long last he realized something was wrong. Perhaps, he reasoned, he didn't have the reception he needed in the underground.

Cursing to himself the young vigilante took off hastily, and ran for the closest set of stairs on the abandoned station. He took three flights at a time as he raced past the worn out, dusty and cobwebbed halls of the forgotten parts of the metro and did his best to ignore the strain in his legs. When he reached the top he was already sweating. Tired but happy he emerged from the station after blowing up a metal fence to keep hobo's and hoodlums from entering. His body couldn't take much more abuse, it had been through too much already this night. But soon all would be alright, he told himself as he breathed deeply. Soon she'd be safe, and then they could focus on bringing down the clown.

Without even taking in his surroundings, Robin anxiously refreshed the query on the device. Yet again, after a few moments, he came to the shocking realization that the pictures failed to send. It seemed like not only his body was starting to protest the harsh treatment he'd put it through tonight. The machine wasn't functioning properly either.

A rush of panic overcame the teen hero. But he did not let it sink in. Instead he tried a different function the 'phone' provided. He called the one person he could use the machine for.

"Robin." The cold voice greeted him. "There are no extensions to your time limit." It informed the leader of the titans mercilessly. "You have less than an hour, do not waste your breath on trying to sway me."

"I have her Victor." Robin replied quickly. "She's safe. Nora is safe." In speaking, he realized his jaw was hurting a lot more than he'd previously noticed. Sam's punch had done some real damage.

When the frozen genius didn't respond immediately, Robin forced himself to set off towards the harbor and Hangar 85. The streets he walked through were covered in ice and snow. The climate had only worsened in the last hours. They'd have to find a way to shut down the Joker's control over the weather somehow soon. How many homeless weren't freezing to death as he ran around like a damn fool? How much damage was this otherwise nearly tropical city not taking as pipes burst and roofs leaked?

"Where is she?" Victor Fries asked at last.

"She was underneath Mahogany park." Robin explained. "In the abandoned subway. I intercepted after they loaded her into a truck. She's in the abandoned station of Emperor Häuptling now. I got her there safely."

"Good." The man praised, clearly relieved. "Good work Robin. Your girlfriend goes free as soon as you send me the proof."

"I can't." Robin wasn't certain in what tone of voice to say it best. He'd tried for going apologetically, but ended up in a 'no-nonsense' tone after all. It seemed to beyond his control.

"You can't?" Freeze's voice was equally relentless. And suspicious to boot.

"The device you gave me got damaged along the way. It won't send any documents."

"And yet you manage to call me?" Robin felt like he should provide an answer, but found none. "I don't take kindly to being tricked, Robin." The villain threatened.

"It's no trick, Freeze!" Robin exclaimed desperately. "If I were trying to trick you, don't you think I'd have a better story ready?"

He stopped in his tracks. With his free hand he frantically searched for his Titan-communicator and eventually found it. The clock on it showed much too little time left before midnight to his liking, but perhaps still enough to fix everything. A thought struck him as he stared at the device.

"Look." Boy wonder said. "If you can get Starfire's communicator you can open a conversation with me. Choose a face-to-face chat and I can use our communicators to show you she's there."

He already set off in the opposite direction, towards the subway before the criminal mastermind's voice made him stop. "She had it on her." It said. "I can't get to it without unfreezing her."

Robin cursed out loud. Everything was against him tonight. It was unfair, he realized as a fear for Starfire's safety crept through his very being. To his agony the clock in his hand changed from 23:16 to 23:17.

"Victor believe me!" He begged desperately. "It's not my fault. I just can't show you the pictures."

"I wish I could trust you, Robin." Freeze replied coldly. "But Nora means everything to me. I can't take any risks."

"You are taking risks regardless!" Robin tried. As he spoke the words, he knew them to be true. "When working for the Joker you take risks. That's why you reached out to me. You know I'm more trustworthy than him. It comes down to this, Victor, who do you think will give you back Nora. Him, or me?"

"Or… If you are speaking the truth, I can find that out after midnight by going to Emperor Häuptling myself. While if you lie and I press this button at midnight, you'll find me an I will still kill you and have a chance of retrieving her through the clown. Trusting you brings me no profit now, Robin." The scientist replied icily.

"If you shatter Starfire, I'll shatter Nora." He threatened through closed teeth.

"An empty threat, coming from you Robin." Freeze spoke levely. "You do not have it in you, especially not if you have nothing to gain."

"This is not math, goddamnit!" Robin shouted angrily. "Victor, look at her!" He commanded. "Are you looking at her?" He could hear the second tick by in his mind, creeping closer to midnight all the time.

"Yes." Came the reply.

"That is Starfire of Tamaran. She is my teammate, my friend, my soul, my everything. If a frozen shell like you can turn to crime; theft and murder over your love… if Nora can make your icy heart burn still… What do you think Starfire can do to a hothead like me?" This time it was Freeze's turn to not reply. So Robin continued. His voice matched the fatigue he actually felt. "Victor." He pleaded. "She is my Nora. She is special to me. There is nothing I wouldn't do for her. Please. We are so close now, but we need to trust each other. You do not want her blood on your hands. No one needs to die. But I need you to feel, not think. For once Freeze, feel with your heart, don't think with your brain. Because if you do act on your rationality in this, I promise you, things will end badly for all of us. Victor, we all have too much to lose to stand alone now… Just… Just look at her face… Her lovely perfect face… Her eyes always filled with wonder. Her heart too big for he own good. Victor, Nora and Starfire, they see the best in us even when we think that was lost long ago. They see the humans we are, even when we try not to be. They see us, beyond what we've become. They drive us to be the best we can be and to hold out for hope. They teach us the world isn't that bad and that it is okay to trust… Please, Victor, I hear her calling out to me. Don't you hear Nora as well? Don't you hear her begging for you to be more?"

For a few seconds the voice on the other side of the line remained silent. Then Robin heard a soft grumbling curse.

"You have 'till midnight to get here." The villain spoke. "I'll allow you to come back instead of sending me the pictures, and show me them in person. But know that if I think you betray me, even for a second, I press the button. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Robin breathed.

"Midnight Robin." Freeze said. "Midnight." He repeated as a warning before hanging up.

"Midnight" Robin whispered to himself as he pocketed the devices in his hands. He felt drained. Even if he left now, there would not be enough time to get to Freeze's hideout first and then backtrack to The Calendar Man without breaking the deadline. But tackling The Calendar Man before getting to Freeze would be cutting it close in it's own right and was putting Starfire in unmentionable danger.

From the corner of his eyes he could see an abandoned black Harley Davidson at the end of the street. He plowed through the snow as quickly as he could, rushing for it. When he moved in on it, he did his best to turn his heart to stone and accept the fact that Steve would be a necessary sacrifice. He couldn't lose her. He simply couldn't. Plus, she was probably younger, so if one of the two were to live, why not her? She wasn't just the emotional answer, he told himself as he hot-wired the cycle, she was the reasonable answer as well. If he could only save one, it might as well be the one with superpowers that could save more lives tonight.

Yet, as he hopped on the Harley and revved the engine, the nagging feeling that had persisted all the while surfaced full force. He could hear Starfire, he realized. He actually could hear her guidance and her wishes inside his head. He knew what she would want her to do. She would want him to try and save both. She would want him to be the best him he could be; the hero the city needed.
Eventually his course was set for Hangar 85. But all along the way, he felt like it was a bad choice, even if it might be the right thing to do.

Officer Jonas Brady sat in his new squad car. The overweight cop, nearing his sixties had named her Betty II, after his first one had been wrecked in the onslaught of General Immortus' robot army not too long ago. Due to that battle that had raged through the city, the JCPD was still severly crippled. They'd set up a headquarters to replace the West-Side police station which had been decimated in the Brotherhood's attack. Many of the force had been dispatched to other stations, but in a city as large as Jump, you needed a law-upholding institute in the vicinity of the station. This need had lead to the commandeering of a nearby abandoned warehouse. But the hasty installation had left much to be desired. And even with so much of the personnel having been temporarily relocated and the rest of the stations pitching in, they had way too little equipment to Jonas' liking. And the equipment they did have, was nothing to brag about.

"West-Side. Come in." He replied again, into his car's transmitter. The frequency had been right, yet the static came back. He'd been at it for a full minute now. And it annoyed him to no end. "West-Side. Come in god damned!" He repeated.

"… Est-Side. Over." It came back at long last. The voice was barely audible through the static and demanded Jonas' full attention. "Tha... ...ou ...nas?"

"Yeah, it's me Jamie." He replied. "Still at Hangar 85 with the boys."

"Conf… at Hang… 5. Sorry Jonas… to fix this… but it ke… …cing static." It came back.

"I've noticed West-Side." Jonas sighed. "But yes, we're at Hangar 85. Situation inside hasn't changed."

Brady allowed the elbow of his free hand to rest on the dashboard. His face rested in his hand. The situation in the Hangar hadn't changed a bit. But everything else has, he realized. A few days ago he'd had nothing but contempt for the caped vigilantes, seeing them as the reason why so many criminals were donning masks and hoods themselves. It had always seemed like such a clear causal link that more supers would invite and inspire more super-crazies. And in the last few decades of his career, the world had changed so much. It had become such an insane place, it was unbelievable and hardly recognizable. He also realized, to his chagrin, that he was a relic of the past. They'd fought back as hard as they could, but it only took a talking gorilla, a brain in a jar, an old geezer and a shapeshifter to lay waste to his entire headquarters. What did the law mean, if there wasn't anybody who could enforce it? And in that battle he too had to finally meet the superheroes and see them for what they really were. In a world of madness, they were the only chance the future had.

The man inside Hangar 85 didn't have superpowers. But he was super-insane alright. And Jonas felt too old, to drained and stretched out to do anything about the situation. His bosses had ordered him to take point on the situation. And in ten minutes, he would have to send in the SWAT. He dreaded having to give the other. But his commanders had been very clear about the subject. Yet he had to try one more time to convince them to wait. It wouldn't end well for the hostage otherwise, this he knew. It would simply turn into a bloodbath.

"Jamie..." He spoke into the microphone. "Get me O'Harra."

"Are y… ure Jo...?"

"Yes I'm sure."

"One sec..."

The connection remained silent for a minute and a half. When it resumed, Brady heard the voice of his captain; Veronica O'Harra.

"What is… of this, offi… Brady?" Her usual direct tone didn't get lost in the static, even if some of the words did. "You had bet… not … calling for the s… reason as bef..."

"I am." He managed.

It was an argument he knew in advance he'd lose. But he would have to try. Sadly, O'Harra was extremely difficult to persuade. It was both her strength and her weakness as a leader. In difficult and dire times she could be trusted on to make the hard calls. She didn't cower in face of tough decissions. She pushed through. Even though they'd been at odds multiple times, Jonas had always admired his boss's ability to react to any situation and to make up a plan. She could coordinate in the most difficult of times and had led Jonas and his colleagues succesfully through some pretty messed up situations. But with that came a steadfastness that could from time to time work against her. In a difficult moment where looking back and reassessing the situation might not be possible, she didn't try to find out. She stuck with her plan and saw it through, even if others told her a different route might be better.

"Look, Ma'am." He continued. "Ask me this a few weeks before, and I would have been with you all the way. It's our responsibility to save and protect the people of Jump City. We are the ones who should put an end to situations like a madman tying a hostage to a rocket and guarding it with 30 men. But we can't do this and safeguard the hostage. We should, but we can't."

"Has the ...tion chang…?"

"Yes." He admitted. "The situation has changed in that I have changed. I can't order the SWAT team in, ma'am. It'd be ordering the hostage's death sentence. I can't and I won't do it."

" … would advi … hard and long ab… saying now, Brady. Besides, if … don't do it he'll die … atter of minutes an..."

"When we decoded that message, we knew who he was trying to contact." He replied, hardly believing that he was defending a caped crusader. That he was relying on a kid to do a man's job. "We know Robin will come. He can solve this."

In the distance Jonas could hear a faint rumbling spring into life. It kept rolling.

"Are y… ...lling to bet …stage's life on…?"

"It surprises no one more than me, but yes."

Through the cracking on the line, he heard a distinct disappointed sigh. "...cer Brady." It came through. "I ...by remove y… of your com… Furtherm… you are now no long… ...tive duty. Command sha… passed on … officer Lopaas. However, I shall inf… SWAT ...sonally. The opera… ...mence as plan... Do leave … scene immediately."

"Ma'am, I..." He protested.

The rumbling background noise became louder and grew even louder still. At this point, even in the blizzard, he recognized it as a motorcycle.

"Now." It came back crystal clear. "Unless …ant your relieve… be permanent."

Despite his situation being futile and only getting him in deeper, Jonas Brady was about to continue his protest. He didn't however, when he saw the motorcycle turn around the corner. In an instant he recognized it's rider. Even though his outfit was caked in dirt, torn and shred and he himself was covered in the same muck, Robin was clearly recognizable. The machine slowed as he made his turn.

"Understood." He replied, wasting no time.

Before he could exit Betty II, however, to his dismay Robin lost control of the hog. It was a good thing that he'd just turned a corner and thus slowed down, for a crash now was inevitable. It was clear the cycle had lost it's grip on the icy surface. It hit a groove or a small pit in the ice burried beneath the thick layer of snow and sent the bike flying sideways through the air. It's trajectory lead it directly to the river, by which Hangar 85 was located. The agile Robin managed to jump from the out of control Harley before it departed from the docks and crashed into the river. When making contact with the ground himself, Robin ducked and rolled, unable to escape the velocity and trajectory of before. His shoulder-blades met with a streetlamp. The impact made him turn a bit more one last time, but stopped his ragdol-like misadventure.

By the time Brady had even exited the car, some of his colleagues who'd surrounded the hangar were already halfway to the fallen hero. Robin partly surprised him by already being on his two feet by the time he made it to him himself. Another part of him wasn't surprised at all, however.

"Officer Brady." The kid said, kicking his legs in to gear and walking over to him and the hangar. "Give me the sit-rep please, quickly."

"You sure you're okay, kid?" Jonas asked, turning on his heel and accompanying the vigilante.

"I'm fine. It's been a long night, and she didn't handle quite like the R-cycle." The boy answered wearily. "I miscalculated. But, sorry, we can't talk about collateral damage right now. I've got to hurry and wrap this up. There are other places to go before midnight."

"Does that mean you figured out where all the money went?" Brady asked.

Robin turned to him with a puzzled look. "What money?" He asked.

"Some criminal gang's been hitting all the banks in Jump City. They picked them clean." Brady explained, surprised that the young Titan hadn't heard of it before. If it hadn't been that, that boy wonder meant, what else was going on tonight?"

"Who?" Robin asked, not slowing his pace.

"Another one of your old friends like the calendar man here." He said. "Call it my gut-feeling as a police-officer, but I suppose that's no coincidence, now is it?"

"It's not, sir." Robin replied. "Who?" He asked again.

"You know him as 'The ventriloquist'. Old balding guy? Carries around a wooden puppet according to eye-witnesses?"

"The ventriloquist." A clearly annoyed Boy Wonder sighed. "The ventriloquist is robbing banks."

"His goons outfitted the bank's personnel with some pretty horrific devices. In essence they use machines that look like a giant wooden cross with wires on them. But they're actually computers of some sort. The wires are tied to the personnel, and conduct signals sent through the computers."

"And so the personnel turns into the ventriloquist's set of marionettes..."

"We always arrived too late. It's this blizzard. By the time we got to the first bank, he'd already hit a second and a third. His list of helpers kept growing too, with each bank more were forced to help in the consequent robberies. Within a matter of hours all banks in Jump City were hit."

"How many people does he have as his puppets, as we speak."

"With this weather, not all that many people were working, of course. Mostly night-guards and such" Brady replied. "But we count 57 people unaccounted for."

"We'll look into it." Robin promised, halting before the hangar's giant metal doors. "But first, give me the sit-rep, now please."

"Hey Brady!" A voice cut through the night.

Jonas didn't need to look to know who it was exactly. But he did so anyway, forcing a fake and innocent espression.

"Officer Lopaas." He replied to the approaching officer.

The man was half his age. His belly was only half his girth as well. And even his hair was only half as grey as his own. As far as Brady was concerned, this colleague had also only half his own motivation, integrity and wit. And Jonas wasn't one for praising his own abilities too much either. None the less, he considered Lopaas to be half the man he was.

"O'Harra just informed me that you've been stripped of your command." Lopaas said with a wicked grin. There was a sadistic glint in his eyes that Brady had never liked. "She said that I'm in charge now."

"Oh..." Jonas replied in a surprised manner that didn't fool anyone. "Is that what she said? With all that static, I thought she'd guessed I'd gone commando. My bad."

With a confused Lopaas trying to figure out how to respond to that and how to get a very uncomfortable piece of imagery out of his mind, Jonas continued his talk with Robin. "We count 30 bogeys inside." He informed. "Infrared shows us that they walk in a pattern, but the hostage is located in the middle."

"Hey!" Lopaas interrupted. "Jonas, leave this operation right now! Go home, before I have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

"Betty won't start." Brady shrugged calmly and politely. "Give her a minute and I can go give O'Harra my badge and gun." He continued his attention to the kid. Some of them seem to have knives, others guns, it's kind of hard to tell. Others have torches."

"Torches?"

"Jonas!" Lopaas practically screamed, tired of being ignored. "I forbid you to say another word to this vigilante. Our operation commences in a matter of minutes. The SWAT is ready now."

"If one of them gets thrown in the wrong place, or lands there by accident… or if one round goes off… The entire place could end up skyhigh. I don't need to remind you it's filled to the brim with fireworks, after all."

"One wrong move, and it becomes an inferno." Robin deducted.

"Brady!" Lopaas shouted, grabbing the larger man's shoulder and spinning him around. He shouted in his face and clearly took some pleasure of this. "I hereby place you under arrest for obstruction of justice. You have the right..."

However, it was Lopaas' turn to be interrupted.

"Sir." A new voice called out.

Brady looked past the despicable man and found another colleague standing a little in the distance. His entirely black uniform contrasted against the white snow but flowed well with the night. Even underneath the balaclava he recognized not only the voice but also the eyes of Patrick Kombo, the leader of the SWAT-unit. He was addressing Lopaas who'd turned to him as well.

"My men are ready to move. O'Harra gave us green light." Patrick continued. "Move your men to their appropriate positions, so we can move in without trouble."

"Move in without trouble?" Brady laughed somewhat desperately. "One wrong round and the entire plays explodes!"

"If the calendar man sees any of you, he'll kill the hostage without hesitation." Robin chimed in. "Sirs, I know you're trying to do your jobs. But if you move in now, you'll kill that man."

"I think we can handle a madman, kid." Patrick nodded at the young hero. "This ain't my first rodeo, just let us handle this one."

"You don't know him." The kid continued. "He's not just insane, he's driven. He's a sociopath who sees it more important to fulfill his own schemes, his own displays of art. He'd die for that instantly, if need be. What is important to him, is that what he wants gets done. He won't threaten to blow up the hostage or the entire hangar. He'll do it instantly. Unless it's me he's up against. Because that's what he wants."

"Kid." Lopaas spoke with some disdain. "Our boys are going in, and there is nothing you can do. So get out of here, or I'll arrest you too."

"I'm not letting that man die." Robin bit back.

"And what are you going to do against 30 thugs on your lonesome, huh?" Lopaas mocked.

"He's going to find a way, while Patrick and his men remain outside." Brady said, stepping in between the piece of dirt and the kid covered in dirt.

"And why do you think they'd stay outside?" Lopaas laughed.

His laughing seized however when Brady shoved his own trusty six-shot in the man's face.

"Because the situation has changed." He replied coldly.

In the moment of Lopaas' realization and utter fear Brady grabbed him and pulled him in close. He used him as a human shield as he backed up against the hangar's wall, his gun pressed against the side of his struggling colleague's head. He looked around and already Patrick and a few other cops in the distance had drawn their guns and aimed them at the duo. His eyes found the teen vigilante as well. He too seemed shocked by his actions. But at least he seemed ready to move. When their eyes locked, the boy instantly understood and took off. He ran around the Hangar, in search of a hidden entry-point to the hangar.

Brady didn't know if the kid could still hear him as he yelled. "If anybody goes in there, Lopaas dies!"

He tried to hold his handgun steadily. He did his best to stop the quivering. But as he stood there looking at his former colleagues and friends and the barrels of their guns pointed at him, he'd never felt so lost and so alone. He apologized to the young kid he'd been when he'd first started as a cop, for he'd never hoped or dreamed for him to end up like this; holding a gun to a colleague's head. Even if it was a scumbag like Lopaas. And even if he'd taken out the bullets beforehand. But he had to do something. Anything to buy Robin time. Anyway, it was too late to turn back now.

"I mean it!" He added, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt.

Once more that night Robin found himself inside a ventilation shaft. This time, however, as he looked down at the veritable crowd of crooks, he decided to use his gadgets to unhinge the grate quietly, rather than just barging in. He did it as fast as he could, knowing that he was on more than one clock this night. As he turned the screws as fast he could, he both silently thanked and cursed the overweight cop's sacrifice. He'd have to find a way to pay back the dept. But how could you thank someone for throwing away their entire career and turning it in for criminal charges and being locked up for a long time? He supposed he and his friends could do a black-ops mission, and bust him out. But even then the man'd be a pariah, unable to return to his normal life.

Yet, as he loosened the third bolt and allowed the grate to turn down, hanging solely by the last, he forced himself to put Brady out of his mind. He did the same with the agonizing pain in his shoulders and the cramps in his legs. As he dropped down to the ground, his cape slowing him down, he hid himself behind a giant set of wooden boxes housing 'The Fahrenheit 2000'. He'd read that they were to be one of the main sets of fireworks supposed to be used at New Years Eve. At least before the celebration got canceled due to the freak blizzard.

He pushed his back up against the crate and peered behind the corner. Right now he was covered in the safety of shadows; close to the edge of the inner hangar. But sadly the victim was right in the middle of it, in a well lit area, tied to the giant red rocket. The man was gagged and bound, defenseless. Next to him, Robin recognized Julian Day, the calendar man, himself. He was seated on a small wooden box of fireworks and was holding a small device which Robin assumed to be the remote control for the rocket. The madman was waiting patiently, his arms resting on his legs. He appeared completely still, apart from the mumbling. And his eyes had their usual vacant stare. They only came to life, Robin knew, when he was about to strike or when he divulged about his previous murders. He recognized him, even from this distance, by his heavy build, the bald head and the tattoo's. He couldn't see them all at once, but knew they read 'jan', 'feb', 'mar', 'apr', 'may', 'jun', 'jul', 'aug', 'sep', 'nov', 'dec' as they circled his head. For the occasion, it seemed, he'd dressed up. He wore a black suit with a white shirt. It was hard to discern if he was dressed for a party or for a funeral. Perhaps in his mind it was both.

Robin analyzed the rest of the situation quickly. There were 29 other men patrolling the huge hangar. He'd analyzed only 10 of them carried machine guns. Another 5 carried torches. The rest had either a blunt object like a bat or a lead pipe or they had knives or hatchets. He'd have to take out the machine-gunners first, but as soon as he started taking down the men with the torches he'd be noticed without a doubt. Before he could afford being noticed, he needed to strip the calendar man of the remote control. So he'd have to hope that this wasn't planned to be Julian's grand finale. If any of the men with the torches was in the wrong mindset, he could sent the entire place to hell in an instant. He'd have to hope they were just the mastermind's way of making sure he couldn't take down too many of his men before being figured out.

He sneaked off towards one man holding his machine-gun tightly. The man was patrolling the outer rim and it was easy to sneak up on him. When he disappeared from the view of the rest of this crew, Robin struck. In one swift move he both removed the gun from his grasp and held him in a choke hold until he lost consciousness. He carefully allowed the body to slump to the ground. If he had more time he'd have dismantled the gun as well, but the clock kept ticking on without remorse and Starfire was on his mind.

When he crawled atop a set of crates only to drop down on another sole armed guard and knock him out in one quick move, he wondered why only ten of them had been armed. Certainly a man as known in Gotham's criminal underbelly as him would be able to afford enough guns to arm his crew. When he emerged from the shades in a tackling move and took down a third guard, he reached the conclusion that Julian was giving him a fighting chance.

That realization didn't sit right with him. He forced himself to reenter a mindset he'd long forgotten. Jump City's criminals, with the exception of a few, had always been somewhat different from the ones he'd met in Gotham. It reflected the cities, he recognized, as he clambered atop the back of a big guy who'd stopped to grab a cigaret and used his bo-staff to choke him into unconsciousness while keeping his gun just out of reach. Gotham was darker, more sinister, but somehow it worked. And it's super-villains had adopted that in their methodological insanity. There was always purpose, hidden somewhere in the sadistic violence.

Robin's staff helped him out once more when he took out another guard by smacking him right in the back of the head. He caught him before he dropped down, making sure he didn't cause too much noise and invited any of his colleagues to come looking for him in the shadows. Just what was the calendar man's plan? What did he have to gain by having his armed guards patrolling the outer area, where he could pick them off one by one the way he did?

He found the only armed guards who patrolled together and managed to swipe in from above. He dropped down, hanging upside down from an iron supporting bar with his grapnel-gun tied to his belt. He made quick work of smashing the heads of the two unsuspecting guards together. If Day had had them patrol like this, he'd have made it much more difficult for him. He knew the man wasn't a commander, usually preferring to work solo. But this was pretty basic stuff. Why hire the extra muscle if you weren't going to use them properly?

He turned a corner and appeared straight in front of another machine-gunner. This one, Robin had to admit, was a surprise. However, he managed to react quickly enough by punching the man in the throat. He was lucky that the man lost control of his gun because of the strike, rather than having his hand cramp up and pull the trigger; alerting the rest. The gun was left dangling on the shoulderstrap. As the guard reached for his throat in shock robin hit him again. This time it was square in the jaw. The man fell down and Robin punched him once more, for good measure. He had to bite back the pain the punch sent through his hand. His body was starting to complain, he realized as he did his best to shout in agony. He clenched his fist a few times, and moved his wrist; making sure it wasn't broken.

Now not only his brain, but his body too was screaming at him from within. They told him to slow down. There was something wrong with this entire scenario, he knew this deep down. And there was something wrong with his body, this he felt throughout. But there was no time for hesitation. He couldn't afford to sit and think things over. She needed him. She needed him to pull through. As he smashed the face of an armed thug into the hangar's wall, he could see her face in front of him. He was so close now. He couldn't fail. He wouldn't allow himself. Whatever the calendar man would throw at him, he promised himself and her that he'd push through. Just as he pushed the machinegun from the hands of the last armed and surprised guard and swung it around in one swift move to hit him in the temple.

It took him some concentration and a lot more effort than he'd like to admit to reach the top of a stack of crates both high and poorly lit enough. But when he did he quickly rummaged through his utility belt. From it, he grabbed one of his remote detonators, a smoke pellet and the adhesive clay-like substance he kept around to plant bugs on walls and make sticky bombs. It didn't take him long to combine them and stick the contraption next to a smoke-detector hanging on one of the supporting pillars. Quickly and silently he made his way across one of the metal beams linking the columns and got into place. He wished he had more time to take more of them out unseen. Sadly he simply didn't. With his grapnel-gun in one hand and three more smoke-pellets in the other he allowed himself one last deep breath.

He threw the pellets in the middle of the room. Some of the nearby guards turned at the strange sound of them crashing to the floor before the smoke overtook them. And in that confusion, Robin pulled the trigger and sent the grapnel's claw flying towards it's target. It was dead on as it took hold of the remote control and in a second's time yanked it from the calendar man's grasp. As Robin used his cape to glide down, into the smoke and chaos below, he saw the psychopath get up and stare at him. He didn't look surprised nor angered. But then again, he hardly ever did. Before he reached the ground, he made sure to activate his own detonator. And with that the smoke pellet went off, triggering the smoke detector which in turn automatically activated the internal fire sprinkler system. To his delight the frost hadn't broken the old pipes and the system worked. Within seconds they started spraying the room. Soon the torches were left useless as anything but melee weapons and the fireworks continued to be drenched under the heavy and relentless pour.

When he landed and rose his fingers tightened around the staff. He closed his eyes and listened to the screams. He firmly ordered the screams within himself to stop; that the confusion within him had to take a backseat. There were only the screams of his enemies amidst the dripping water. There was only the confusion of them. All there was, were him, her and obstacles that would have to be taken down. With determination he spun and swung the staff. It made contact in the smoke, earning a painful cry. He spun downwards, sinking through his knees, in the opposite direction and struck the same target again, this time swiping him off his feet.

From the dense smoke another memeber of the crew came bulling through. He was armed with a bat and swung it wildly and blindly. When he finally saw Robin, however, he froze for a split second. Robin made sure to dissapear into the fog. Yet the man came chasing after him. His dark silhouette ran in a determined fashion, the bat raised. When he found his target, it came flying down and broke a shoulder. It just so happened that it wasn't Robin's. Instead the vigilante had led him to a crook armed with a knife. And he was the one taken by surprise. Boy Wonder himself flanked from the right and used his staff to strike the chaser's hand, making him drop the bat. Following up with a jump-kick to the face, he took him out of the fight. A fast spinning move with the bo-staff took care of the man with the broken shoulder.

Almost immediately after another bad guy found the titan in the mist. Grayson was lucky that the man was stupid enough to fiercely cry out loud as he charged at him from behind, ready to swing the doused torch. Dick managed to turn and duck in time. His own fist shot out in retaliation and hit the man square in the gonads. This was fighting dirty, he knew. But he couldn't afford etiquette on the battlefield. Not now. As the man bend over in pain, Robin's hand found his chin. And in rising he lifted the man into the air and toppled him over, sending him smacking down to the ground. In the effort Robin's cape swung from his back to his chest, dangling over his right shoulder.

The next guy was a cut above the recently downed foe, however, and managed to cut the bird. The slash ran across his back. It wasn't deep, the aim had been made difficult by the blurry vision caused by the smoke and the hasty act. But, without his strong cape to protect him, it was enough to run a red line from his shoulder to the lower end of the back of his ribcage. The sudden pain made him take a stumble. He almost collapsed. But instead of giving in he turned to face his adversary and made a desperate grab for his belt. From it he pulled a birdarang with his free hand. In swinging it up he managed to use it to block the man's second attempt. Metal met metal. A second later, Robin's foot met his knee. Another second later, as the man fell down with a grunt, his face met Boy Wonder's knee.

His aching back sent all manner of signals to his brain. The pure adrenaline of the fight overwhelmed his higher functions. He felt beast-like and feral, like a cornered rat. So when another criminal came charging at him with a lead pipe at the ready, Dick's haymaker was more out of instinct than anything else. He actually roared as his fist made impact with the man's nose and caused a crunching sound. It also sent a painfull shock throughout his own arm, as he realized it had been the hand he'd feared he'd broken moments before. The blade of the birdarang had cut into the palm of his hand as well, as he'd been holding it when he struck. He grunted madly as he threw it at an approaching projectile. It was as hatchet and collided with it in the air. The thug who'd thrown it was still running at him. Robin reacted quickly and grabbed his staff with two hands as he set off to meet him. His staff hit the man first in chest, then in the hollow of the knee. A spin allowed the back of his foot to meet with the scumbag's head and knock him out cold.

At that time, two of the crew had simultaneously found him. They charged him from opposite sides, one with a bat, the other sporting a torch. With his bloody hand Boy Wonder managed to grab his grapnel-gun and fired it just in time to grab hold of the bat. He turned on his heel, swinging the bat at the end of the retracting rope as hard as he could. It did exactly what he'd wanted it to and hit the torch-guy in the head. There was a loud cracking noise and somewhere deep inside, beneath all the rage and the frantic survivor's instinct, Dick Grayson hoped it was the wooden bat that cracked, and not the man's skull that fractured. The rage remained there, however to devote it's entire attention to the now unarmed and frightened crook. The vigilante's staff hit him in the jaw before his foot landed on the man's chest and send him flying backwards into the somewhat thinning smokescreen.

He found himself breathing deeply and heavily. His body was shaking. The complaining came back, but he had to press on. He couldn't fail. This couldn't be his limit. He had to go on. For her. He had to. He used the butt of the gun to hit an unsuspecting crook who'd wandered into sight over the head. His lead pipe clattered to the ground before the thug did. How many did that make? Robin asked himself. How many were left? In the second's respite, between the thinning fog as he replayed recent events, he realized he'd taken down twenty of the crew of twenty-nine.

The number 29 struck him odd. And he briefly wondered why. Why had the calendar man of all people hired a crew of 29 men. The same calendar man that usually worked alone. What was his deal? What was the point he was trying to make this last day of the old year? His inner detective had to take a backseat, however as three more criminals found him, the fog now barely providing protection. One of them had a torch, another a knife, the third a hatchet. Unlike those that went before, these three didn't charge wildly. Rather they closed in systematically. The sensation of being a cornered animal returned full force.

With them biding their time, Robin found himself taking the offensive as he charged the torch-wielder. As he advanced his staff knocked the incoming torch out of the way. He jumped and his empty right hand found the man's left shoulder. Using the man as an aid, the acrobat somersaulted over him and pushed him into the man with the knife. The one with the hatchet wasn't discomforted however and was quicky to advance as he slashed cleaver through air. Dick managed to avoid three seperate swings by stepping backwards. The fourth, however, struck his staff and the sudden impact, to his dismay, made him part with it. When the blade came back for his face, ready to finish him off, Robin grabbed the man by his wrist and elbow. In one swoop he turned and lifted the man over his back; slamming him to the ground. With his breath knocked out of him it was easy for the Titan to take away his weapon by twisting the man's arm. He followed up with a kick to his face as he let go.

But it was at that time that the torch-wielder had managed to creep up. He smacked the young hero in the lower back, making him turn and tumble to the ground. As Robin lay there the man with the knife advanced quickly. The vigilante bit through the pain and grunted as he summoned his force. As the man with the blade lunged his feet found his gut. The boy tumbled backwards, lifting the surprised foe into the air and sent him flying. Robin was on one knee when the crook with the torch moved in for another strike. The titan managed to sweep his feet, however, and caught the torch as the falling man dropped it. With it, he sent the man into the land of darkness.

By now the smoke had all but cleared. He stood in the middle of the six remaining thugs. These were the smarter ones; the ones that had run outside of the cloud and waited for it to dissapear. One of them carried a bat, another had a lead pipe. The third had the final torch. The fourth had picked up a heavy metal chain and swung it menacingly. The last two each carried another blade. One of them had a knife, the other another hatchet. Despite the fact that clearing smoke revealed the veritable pile of unconscious henchmen, they laughed meanly. The Robin had played his tricks. They could see he was on his last legs.

Robin turned full circle slowly, taking them all in. Their rough faces, their mocking grins…

With a clicking sound, the sprinklers all simultaneously seized to work. By now the entire hangar was completely drenched. Robin's hair was wet and clinged to his face. His costume was finally clean again, apart from the watered bloodstains on his back. All that was left of the mighty pour were the lonely few drips. They fell from their noses. They glided off their hands. They departed from their weapons. And they echoed into the night.

"Okay." He spoke before raising the torch in his hands. "Bring it."

Tentatively, and as one, they advanced. Their laughing grew louder as they closed in. But they were nervous. He could tell now they were so close. Problem was, he was nervous as well. Sweat ran down his forehead along with the water as he continued to turn slowly, keeping his torch raised in front of him. They were close now. So close and he had yet to spot an opening. He caught anxious fingers tightening around handles, getting ready to strike. He had to see who would be first. His turning movement became faster

And he saw it, from the corner of his eyes. The metal chain reared and was sent flying for him. Quick as he could he stepped slightly aside and let the chain be caught on his torch. He tugged the newly formed link, causing the assailant to lose his footing and stumble forward. Without hesitation the others rushed in all at once. Blades and blunt objects all swung for him. Hastily Robin ducked away, towards the stumbling crewmember. He managed to barely slip by them as he grabbed hold of the thug and pushed him into the others. It wasn't enough to make any of them fall to the ground. And the one holding the pipe was close enough to swing it and make contact. The blow hurt his right wrist tremendously. But rather than holding it and soothing it, he swung it madly for the man's face. That contact too was excruciating. He screamed out loud, while the struck man went down absorbed the shock by closing his eyes and falling down.

This pain was one he could no longer ignore. Not even the blinding rage and hatred burning inside could push it back. His hand was simply useless now, only there to agonize him with sharp pain.

The man who'd previously wielded the chain was now back on his feet and was in the ideal spot to take point as the other thugs were gathered somewhat behind him. He jumped boy wonder without thinking and tried to pin him to the ground. The boy managed to raise his arms in defense, but when the bigger man grabbed him by the wrists and kneed him in the gut, it wasn't the knee that hurt him most. The pressure on his wrist almost made him pass out right then and there. But instead of allowing that, he remembered he had a job to do. So he headbutted the man. And as the crook stepped back in shock and pain but still held Robin, the young vigilante placed one foot on his waist and used it to swing the other to his chin. He somersaulted back, as the man flew away from him.

The last man with a torch ran at him madly, and swung the object straight for his head. Robin quickly bent through his knees. The torch passed overhead as he spun; gaining velocity. And with that his right elbow struck the crook square in the jaw; making him pass out as well.

The knife was next, aimed at him in a stabbing motion. Robin could only just jump aside and make the crook dive next to him, as the blade missed his gut by inches. But the man with the hatchet was more lucky as his blade managed to cut his upper left arm. Before the two men with blades could coordinate another attack, Robin ducked and rolled away from them and towards the man with the bat. When he got close the thug sent it down to bash his head in. But with great willpower and some luck, Robin managed to grab his wrist with his left hand and twisted it quickly from his grasp. As the man gasped in distress Robin let go and caught the bat in his still functioning hand. In one swift turn he struck the guy straight on the knee, making him collapse to the floor. The thug wasn't unconscious, but wished he was as he screamed and cried ferociously, holding his broken kneecap.

The two last remaining thugs eyed each-other nervously. They raised their weapons deliberately before closing in on him. The hatchet still had some of his blood on him. It mocked him for not being good enough. The bat would've done this without being scathed. But with him, his right hand was useless. His entire back was covered in blood, as was his left arm. And his entire body strained and complained. It angered him, for tonight had been nothing but a reminder of his mentor and the life he'd left behind. But now, when it mattered like never before, he felt like he wasn't good enough to cut it. He was only good enough to be cut.

The one to strike first was the man with the hatchet. In a split second Robin managed to block the blow with his new bat. It caught the hatchet in the corner where blade met handle. Simultaneously, as the knife-wielder lunged, Robin raised his foot to meet his chest and swung down the bat removing the hatchet from it's owner. As the knife-wielder tumbled backwards he backswinged the bat upwards. It broke the man's jaw and took down the last remaining crew-member.

The bat fell to the ground and clattered. He banished the other bat from his mind. He wasn't him. He didn't have to be him. He only had to get the job done. He walked towards the hostage tied to the rocket, slumping slightly limping. He had to get the job done, in his way. They were counting on him. She was counting on him.

It dawned on him that he couldn't see Julian Day as he arrived at rocket. He used his left hand to grab another birdarang from his belt. With one hand he somewhat clumsily cut the gag from Steve's face.

"Oh thank you!" The hostage remarked gratefully.

"Where is he?" Robin demanded.

"What?"

"The calendar man." Robin explained. "The leader."

"I don't know man." Steve answered desperately. "I think he escaped." He nudged at the pile of unconscious thugs. "I would have." He joked in an empty manner. "Cut me loose man."

"Sure." Robin sighed, eyeing the shadows carefully.

He put the sharp side of the birdarang to use, cutting the rope. All the while, the nagging feeling returned. Something was wrong. This all had to have been Julian's plan. So why and how would he have left? Was he still inside the hangar? And why the hell did he hire 29 crewmembers? Why 29?! With Day included, that would make 30. But what was special about thirty, he asked himself as he cut through the ropes? Sure, he was the calendar man and some months had thirty days but not december. December had…
His eyes widened in shock, moments before Steve's free hands found his waist. He understood before the device in the palms of the fake hostage activated and forced him to his knees; howling into the night. His muscles tensed and contracted. His entire body shook violently and spasms made their way throughout. When the devices were lifted, his body slumped to the ground. He was unable to do anything, barely clinging to consciousness. As he lay there on the wet ground, looking up to the ceiling, Julian Day finaly came into view again; looming over him. At long last his eyes glew.

"I did good, right?" He heard Steve's blurred voice speak. "You'll tell the Joker I made myself useful, right?"

"Yes Steve." Julian agreed, not taking his eyes off the fallen hero.

Robin tried to speak, but managed no more than a weak moan. This was wrong. All wrong a voice in the back of his mind called out.

"The name's not Steve, damn it!" Steve uttered.

"Shhh." The Calendar Man ordered, raising a finger to his lips and with the other hand a syringe. He knelt down next to the fallen bird. And spoke as he applied the shot. "Each year we are given 365 days and how the time flies, before we reach the last one on which the year dies. And every year in December, which starts the same day always as September, we do our best not to remember that the month is a dying ember. In the last hours that the old must go; land, man and fire are covered in snow. But on the last we show our will to fight by lighting up the ever growing night. A blaze from within flying up to the sky, like a robin in winter refusing to die." Robin shrugged slightly, feeling the liquid entering his bloodstream through the veins in his neck. The psychopath continued. "Fireworks herald that which is new, but their flashes blind us to that which is true. Before the phoenix can rise and fire be born, the robin dies and no one mourns."

The man, without taking his eyes off the vigilante tossed away the syringe and produced a playing card. It was the Jack of spades and Jack hearts rolled into one. Robin's eyes quivered but he kept them locked on Julian's, even when he felt him place the card in a pouch in his utility-belt.

Still the man continued his monologue.

"Will you be my my phoenix on New Year's Eve, and allow the robin to finally leave? I have no fear, I know I'll have my fireworks this year. So before this thirty-first is finally gone, my phoenix I do what must be done."

"Why?" Robin managed to ask. Whatever he'd been injected with, it was giving him new power. He could feel it rising within him.

Julian placed his hand on his cheek, almost gently. "A proper celebration is it's own reward." He explained.

The substance had now completely spread throughout his body. He could feel it pumping through his heart, filling him with strength and terrible wrath. His hand shot out and grasped the psychopath's throat. It squeezed as hard as it could. The man seemed hardly surprised. He was happy, having completed his crime.

Robin rose quickly, the newfound power burning with a vengeance within him. "What was it?!" He demanded.

Julian smiled knowingly.

"What was it?!" He shouted in his face.

He knew traditional intimidation didn't work on the calendar man. The rational part of him knew this. But he could feel his temper, his rage and irrationality being fed by the foreign substance. When he got no reply he elbowed the sociopath in the eye. The creek slumped to the ground.
His left hand shot out and grabbed a terrified and frozen to the spot Steve by the throat. Steve panicked and used the devices in his hand to once more shock the Titan into submission. The shock however was nothing compared to the energy being released inside his body already. And the closed circuit they made meant that Steve got shocked as well. The hands were quickly removed as he slumped in Robin's grasp.

The young vigilante shook the traitor awake. "What was it?!" He demanded hotly. "What was I injected with?!"

"Please!" The dirtbag exclaimed. "He called it compound B-1582. I don't know what it does!"

But Robin knew. He'd heard of the failed experiment before; intended to allow human's to survive in the coldest of places. Compound B-1582 had been created as a drug that produced and maintained a higher metabolism; burning energy within the body at an extremely accelerated pace. Tests had shown however that the burn-rate continued to rise. Eventually the body overheated, to the point of spontaneous-combustion. There were only a few people in the world capable of creating an antidote for this chemical. And even with his intellect, he wasn't one of them. And even if he could, he'd have to go back to Titan-tower instantly, which meant leaving Starfire to die for sure. He was a dead man. It was as simple as that, he realized. He'd burn up, bust into flames. The Robin would burn, becoming the phoenix the calendar man had wanted. He'd be the fireworks that heralded in the new year.

He was dead already, but before he would go, he had one more job to do. Feeling the temperature rise along with the rage and wrath already he quickly KO-ed Steve. His grapnel gun found the vent he'd crawled in from and he left the hangar behind. Before flames could consume him, he had to reach the other flame in his life. He had to reach Starfire before fire came to him.

Deadshot ignored the strain his arms. He kept his grasp on the rifle steady. The biting cold was something he'd learned to ignore as well. This vantage point wasn't perfect, but it had been the best he could manage. Once he saw calendar man's invite in the sky, he knew where he'd find Boy Wonder again. The front of the hangar had been impossible to keep a good eye on. But, he'd taken his bet that the Batman's pupil wouldn't choose the obvious way in. Apparently he'd been wrong. But strangely he did leave through the back alleys. Strange boy.

The mark moved with determination. The markdissapeared behind a white truck parked at an abandoned gas-station. Once he emerged on the other end, the mark was his.

His trigger finger itched.

This was it.

Robin's pace was steady. He checked his communicator as he passed a white truck. It was late. He had a little under twenty minutes left until midnight. But Freeze's hideout wasn't too far from here. He eyed the manhole-cover ahead of him. It would allow him quick access to the sewers. He pocketed his communicator and continued his stride. Once he was in, he'd be able to home in on the tracker he'd left at the entrance. He was cutting it close, but he'd make it. He had to focus on the mission. He had keep his mind on her. No way he could afford to spend any time on his imminent end. Even with the pain in his body and even though he already felt like he was burning up. He would simply need to push through, one last time.

Right before he departed from the truck by his side, however a flash of heat overcame him. He screamed in frustration as the sweat broke out. It made him sink to his knees.

A shot ran through the night and passed over his head by mere inches.

Unbelievable. It was un-freaking-believable. If the kid hadn't ducked or stumbled at exactly that moment his mark would have been true. But instead it was just one more miss. Groaning, the sniper moved his rifle slightly. With the kid beyond his reach, as long as he hid behind the truck, he'd have to try something different. But there was no way he could ricochet the shot from this angle. Luckily though, there was the gas-station. While grimacing, he squeezed the trigger until another shot rang out. It hit it's mark as the bulled pierced through one of the gaspumps. The explosion he hoped for didn't come, however, even though he knew he hit it in the right place. He tried a different pump. That too was to no avail. The pumps were empty, to his dismay. Though an explosion followed, it wasn't due to his fire.

The blast happened a few meters from the truck. His scope moved for it and soon he saw what had happened. The kid had thrown some explosive on the manhole-cover in the middle of the street. All there was now was a crater, leading to the sewers. Before he could wonder if this was a diversion, a smoke bomb did it's work. It covered all in an impenetrable fog. The kid would be able to get to the hole without being spotted.

But not if he could help it.

"Oh no you don't." Deadshot whispered to himself as he adjusted the filters on his scope without taking his eye off the prize.

The thermal vision took over instantly. With it the little bird was out of hiding places.

"Come out, come out wherever you are." He breathed into the night.

His fingers tightened and his muscles locked.

But when the flash of heat came into view, something was wrong. All he could see was one giant ball of intense heat. There were no shapes, only blurs. The appearance caught him off guard. Before his mind even wondered if something was wrong with his filter, his instincts reacted. The gun went off before the ball of heat disappeared into the hole.

With the smoke lingering, there was no way of knowing if he'd hit his mark or not. But he wouldn't have the time to find out. Already the cops at the hangar would be moving in on his gunfire. He cursed whatever had caused the fluctuation in his scope's view and took off.

He'd landed on his wrist. On his wrist, of all bodyparts. The same wrist he couldn't move for jack. The same wrist that had been killing him ever since he smacked that thug in the hangar. He didn't know what hurt more, as he lay in the raw sewage, his wrist or the hole in the shoulder of his same arm where the bullet still lingered.

The pain was all consuming, and the fever was turning him weak and delirious. It was too much to even scream. He didn't have the breath for it. Instead his mouth remained open but voiceless and his features were in a constant state of peril. He used his good arm to crawl up, and away from the hole above him. A few feet down the sewer he managed to stagger to his feet, resting against the brick wall.

As the tears flowed down his face he tried to grab his communicator. With it he'd be able to trace the beacon he left at Freeze's lair. His hand shook as he made for it. His fingers tried to clench around it, but failed. The device fell to the ground.

In an instant the sheer hopelessness of it all was on him as he slumped to the ground. The rising heat in his body was too much. He felt like his brain was being fried and his heart pumped pure unfiltered rage. He felt his wrath rising, taking hold of him. The drug pumped pure adrenaline, making his darkest emotions bubble to the surface. The envy. The fear. The loss. … He figured it would have been even worse if he hadn't been bleeding out.

The day he'd donned the cape and mask, he'd been ready to die for something worthwhile. The bat had made sure of that. He'd seen something inside him, something worthwhile. After his parents had died, fallen to their deaths at the circus, the bat had been there. He'd seen the lost and confused young boy. A messed up kid with no attachments, no purpose and no will to live. And he'd taken pity, perhaps recognized the solitude he had within himself. And he'd tried to help.

A large part of Robin was grateful for the tutelage. He could do what not many others could. And by doing it, he could make a difference. Bruce had given a boy with nothing left to live for, a cause worth dying for.

But the part of Dick Grayson had not faded when the bird flew from the nest. He'd still been that lost little boy when the bat took him under his wing. He'd still been a kid, desperate to reach out and make a connection with someone. He had still been a young lad who wanted friends, family and a normal life. The batman hadn't stolen that from him. But he had taken all illusions. He'd shown him the cruel and corrupt world he lived in. He hadn't tried to give him back his childhood, rather molded him to become what he'd become. He hadn't given him the chance to be happy again, to socialize and be carefree. No, the bat had been alone. He too had something inside of him reaching out to others. He too felt the crushing weight of solitude in his crusade. But rather than helping a young boy to move on, he'd kept him close and had, no doubt unintentionally, tried to make him just as miserable and driven as he was.

He'd been ready to die. His training had made sure of that. Even if it was by being poisoned and bleeding out beneath a layer of sewage. The Batman's dark wings spread as far as he could see, enveloping him completely as the fever overtook his brain. He met the darkness head on. He was prepared to die.

Sweating and bleeding, the pain faded into the background. The fire was inside him, burning brighter and brighter. It showed no signs of turning to ember. He felt like a flame in the dark. In blackness… In the shadow of the bat all he could think of was fire. The thoughts consumed his soul. And with them came an apparition.

Starfire. His fire. His spark. He could see her clearly before him. She appeared illuminated against the shadows around him. Her hand reached out and her smile told him all would be fine. And suddenly the shadow of batman's wings didn't feel so lonely anymore. His hand reached out as she whispered something he couldn't understand. And when his fingers found the palm of her hand and stroked it gently, wrapping themselves around it, a new fire began burning in heart.

His training with the bat had given him a cause worth dying for. And he would, soon enough. But because of Starfire he now too had a reason to live.

Robin blinked and in an instant he was back in the sewer. His damaged arm somehow had managed to stretch out to the apparition now long gone. With his newly found determination his functional hand made a grab for the communicator beside him. He forced himself to his feet and set off, following the beacon's signal.

"Jesus, Brady." Micky sighed.

Jonas Brady turned his head from the window of the backseat of the car to his former friend and colleague in the driver's seat. The man had been given the order of bringing him in to the temporary station. It seemed however that he man was not yet ready to do so. The key was in his hand, but he did attempt to ignite the car yet.

"What was that racket?" Brady asked, referring to the gunshots and the explosion he'd heard minutes prior.

He felt numb. The hands tied behind his back didn't bring as much discomfort as he would initially thought.

"The guy's are checking it out." Micky replied, staring dead ahead. "Jesus, Brady." He repeated.

"You said that already."

"You held Lopaas at gunpoint!" Mickey's voice turned harsh as he turned around.

"It wasn't loaded." Brady replied calmly. He was past worrying now.

"You took him hostage!"

"I had to do something."

"You could have been shot! He could have been caught in the crossfire!" Mickey exclaimed. "People could have died!"

"But no-one did."

It was true. He'd heard Patrick call in to command. He'd heard his report. No-one died. No matter what happened now, they couldn't take that away from him.

Mickey sighed, and his expression sagged. There was pity in his eyes, along with the disbelief. Eventually the cop turned around and ignited the engine.

"Do me a solid." Brady asked as the car turned into first gear. "When we get there, don't let them forget about my phone-call. I've got an important one to make." He said, remembering he had to inform Robin's teammates.

Robin stumbled on, leaning against the wall with his good arm as he shuffled closer and closer to his goal. The sweat by now streamed like a waterfall. He felt like throwing up as his organs complained. They weren't built to operate at these temperatures. His vision too became poor. It pulsed, drifted and darkened at the edges. The compound and bloodloss were taking their toll. Each raced to finish him off first.

Beside his situation, he laughed to himself; clearly delirious.

"I wonder." He said. "Who'll get credited with my death, the calendar man, or deadshot?" A desperate one-syllable laugh made it's way from his chest. "Maybe they'll end up fighting eachother to claim the Joker's prize." He continued as he reached a T-section in the sewer.

"How about I help settle that question?" A muffled voice called out.

Robin turned around the corner and saw his foe standing between him and Freeze's hide-out. He stood in the last long stretch for the ladder.

"Otis… Flannegan." He managed, as his eyes tried to focus on the blurring shape of the rat catcher.

He was just as the titan remembered him. He wore his usual vermin control gear. The tank on his back would be filled with poisonous gas. The gas-mask, an old fashioned one with two red glasses for eyes and a long tube connected to a puryfication filter connected to his belt, thus made for a nifty feature.

"In the flesh." Flannegan said from behind his mask. The giant red eyes stared at the teen.

"Move Otis." Robin slurred. He saw the man's fingers tighten around the large sprayer, attached to the tank. "I don't have time for you."

It was true. He had but precious minutes left until midnight arrived.

"It's nothing personal." The rat-catcher continued.

Boy Wonder believed as much as he struggled to keep standing on his feet. The ratcatcher wasn't insane. He wasn't sadistic. He was simply a man with little enough conscience to turn to a life of crime. He would be in it for the money, nothing more.

"This will be quick." The man said, raising the gun-like sprayer.

Behind him, Robin could hear something scurry. He turned, but even before he actually saw them, he knew what they'd be. Rats. Hundreds and hundreds of rats. Thousands even. Their tiny paws scrambled as they rushed. It wouldn't be long before they were on him.

"Oh no." Robin uttered as they appeared from the other side of the T-section.

It was a genuine flood of the creatures. They seemingly rolled for him like a wave as they clambered over each other. A thousand sets of sharp little teeth incoming. There was nothing he'd be able to do against that army of mind controlled vermin, not without the proper gadgets. And at the other side, the rat-catcher waited patiently with his gas-gun at the ready. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Robin turned and stumbled for the ratcatcher as fast as he could. Which wasn't fast.

"Come and get it." Otis threatened, getting into a fighting stance. His gloved hands tightened around the gas-gun.

As he approached the villain, Robin noticed a playing card, the queen of clubs and diamonds hanging around the man's neck by a thin necklace.
He was close now. Close to Flannegan's range. Soon he'd be able fire his weapon and Robin'd simply run into the poisonous cloud. The sewer's passages were too small to avoid it. As he stumbled forward his good hand threw his communicator. He wouldn't need it anymore; the entrance to the lair lay straight ahead. He could see the ladder in the distance. He'd aimed for the man's head, but his aim had been off. Though the projectile made the man flinch, his blurry vision had ensured a miss.

In the moment's distraction and with the wall of sharp little teeth closing in on him his good hand reached for his belt. He found his last birdarang. It was all he had left. But the previous throw wasn't a good omen at all. And this time he didn't even have any time to aim. But he had no choice left. As the sweat now not only poured due to the extreme heat he felt, but also his fear of failing this close to the end, the birdarang parted from his hand. He kept running, not knowing if it'd hit.

But it did. He could have tried going for the device that controlled the rats, a small rectangular hi-tech device on the man's belt. But that wouldn't have allowed him to get to Starfire in time. He could have tried going for the hand on the trigger, buying him precious seconds to disarm the criminal before he gassed him. But he wasn't even sure he was strong to do that at this point. So instead his best bet had be to cut off the tube connected to the filter. It worked as it cut clear through the tube. The blade was stuck not too deep in the man's chest, probably caught on the man's bones in his ribcage.

"No!" The rat-catcher's screamed in his muffled disbelief and agony. Now, just as Robin had come in range he'd lost his ability to gas him without being poisoned himself. And within a matter of seconds the kid was on him.

Otis swung his gun instead, as the boy's arm reached for his face. He managed to clock him on the temple, sending the kid flying into the wall instead. Yet, the titan had managed to take hold of the Flannegan's necklace. As he fell, the tug that broke the necklace also made the villain fall over.

The rats kept rushing, Robin saw as the man on top of him punched his face to the side. They were meters away and still did Otis' bidding. He had to act fast or he'd be shred to pieces in a matter of seconds. The rat-catcher launched another punch. And he took it. He failed to block just so he could take hold of the birdarang. Mercilessly he pulled it from the man's chest, earning a terrifyingly painful scream. In one swift move he used it to pierce the mind-controlling device on his foe's belt. It went right through and once more the blade was stuck inside Otis.

The villain stumbled back, shouting and cursing. And in that instant the wave of rats lost it's sense of direction. With the link broken they returned to their usual state. They ran criss-cross, attempting to flee whatever it was the others seemed to be fleeing from. No more did they hunt as one. No more could they coordinate and take down a larger foe. They ran past the duo, fleeing from them rather than attacking.

Robin tried to rise as the rats scurried over him. But his body was rejecting. The fever was becoming too much to focus. The, for a lack of a better word for it, water he was sitting in actually began turning to evaporate. But of this Otis took no notice. The criminal pulled the birdarang from his waist and advanced on the fallen titan.

He'd be on him in a second, ready to cut his throat and finish him off. To think it would happen when he was this close… The ladder was right there, he could see it. So close. Too close. Too close to give up now. He had no strength left in his body. His power was all but spent. But Starfire needed him, now more than ever. He desperately lifted his foot and sent it crashing for the criminal's leg. It shouldn't have worked. It couldn't have, not with him feeling so sick and weak. But it did. And the man fell face down on the ground.

When the rat-catcher landed he was quick to scramble back up again and sent the birdarang down with tremendous force. It struck Robin in his left leg. The boy screamed out. And the man raised it once more and sent it flying down again. It punctured his leg right beneath the first wound.

The heat overtook him. The sheer adrenaline and rage that had been building up steadily was now unleashed full force. In one swoop he jumped up and tackled the criminal to the ground. The sheer shock made Otis drop the birdarang. Using his good hand Robin grabbed the man's mask and lifted his head up slightly before smashing it to the ground. He repeated this process, again and again and again until the masked villain stopped resisting. And then once more after he'd passed out.

When it was done, Robbin sagged to his knees. The air around him was distorted by sheer excess of heat. The rats still swirled around them. With the playing card still in his hand, Robin started to crawl for the ladder. He crawled amongst the rats, only different from them in his sense of purpose. His mind now was equally wild and feral. But she shone through the dark. He had to keep struggling, for her.

Savaged, beaten and broken he crawled from the darkness towards the light. The time was nigh, soon he'd be too late. And still she was waiting for him, beyond the darkness that held him.

"Starfire." He gasped. Dragging himself on with his one good arm.

His wounded leg wasn't much help.

The bird was dying, ascending to the fire of stars, becoming the lights that celebrated the end of the year. Soon his love for her would consume him and he'd errupt into flames. Soon the bird would die and the phoenix would come forth.

And as he finally reached the ladder. He started his agonizing ascend. He screamed in pain as he forced his wounded leg to push him up and hooked his useless arm to keep him from falling. One step at a time he rose higher and higher. Until finally he emerged in Freeze's lair.

As he rolled to the ground, gasping, the ice around him started to melt. He could see Freeze standing a ways over. His finger hovered slightly above the button on his arm. There was some sense of amazement in the man's expression. Even beneath his red goggles in the dome like glass helmet.

Robin squinted and focussed. "Pictures!" He managed to utter as he got to his knees. His hand found the device the criminal mastermind had given him earlier that night. He slid it over the icy ground.

Outside a clocktower started. He heard the first gong of twelve.

Hesitantly and without taking his eyes off Robin, Freeze got to his knees. Eventually he picked up the 'phone', after he was sure the wreck of a titan wasn't an actual threat anymore. The heaving and heavily panting Robin couldn't have taken him even if he'd wanted to.

"Nora." He heard Freeze say as the clocktower gonged for a second time.

The voice pulsed as much as his vision did. He felt like he was about to faint and vomit at the same time. He hadn't even noticed the villain approaching him.

"Thank you." He spoke bending down and helping the boy up.

Robin had no choice but to lean on Victor as he guided him to the room where he kept Starfire. He saw her when Freeze let him go and he slumped to the ground.

"As I promised." He heard the villain state.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, as he sat on the ground desperate not to cave completely. Not yet. He had to see. Whatever Freeze did, it worked. The ice thawed and from it emerged his princess unharmed be it a bit confused.

"Robin?!" She called out, seeing him in his horrible condition.

She rushed over, ignoring the icy-villain completely.

"What happened?" She asked as she took him in his arms.

She examined the wounds; all the cuts and bruises, in an instant.

"It's okay, now." He managed, stroking her cheek.

There were tears in her eyes. But that was fine, there were tears in his as well.

"You wanted…" He started as the clocktower outside reached one of it's final gongs. "a traditional Earthian New Year's Eve?"

She nodded.

"One important tradition." He said as his grasp on her cheek intensified slightly.

As the last gong rang, his lips met hers.