Bitter Betrayal

Alexnandru van Gordon

Alex: You have been warned…the battle will begin…

Victor: Ooh, creepy.

Alex: Don't mock me…-.-I've been dying to write this and then there's you—Why couldn't you just stay on vacation?

Victor: Hm…I don't really know why but I lived in America last year and I expected school to be in school right now.

Alex: Ah, yes, the rewards of being Canadian. Non-fake Maple syrup, free health-care, real Canadian beef—

Victor: Love and peace and harmony—yeah, yeah, you guys are like the care bears in human form.

Alex: O.o? Am not!

Victor: Yeah right—that's why you guys write Please and Thank-You on your protest signs.

Alex: We do not! And besides, my country's leader didn't think the Prime Minister of Canada was Mr. Poutine, when it's really Paul Martin! We never had a Prime Minister named after food.

Victor:…But that was on the news…O.o?...You were watching it too.

Alex: Duh—comedy channel! The show was called 'This Hour has 22 Minutes', and it's a spoof on Canadian news.

Victor: I still like America better.

Alex: And I think they each have their ups and downs—but how the hell did we get into this? Sorry people—on with the story!

Victor: Hazzah….or whatever he usually says….I kind of forgot…

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Deception Part Two

As adrenaline pumps through your veins you find yourself stuck between a world that is nothing more than dull aches and numbing pains. Sometimes you feel the full blow but your mind ignores it as though it was nothing more than a figment of your imagination. Then you fall into a routine. Attack. Counter. Defend. Attack. Counter. Defend. Attack. Counter. Defend.

What comes next?

Oh yeah.

Attack.

Robin swung out his bo-staff as hard as he could at Bruce's legs, a second too late from knocking him down. The older expert jumped forward at the same time the moment Robin knelt to swing, the heel of his right foot connecting with the boy's jaw. Against a normal criminal, Robin's neck and jaw would sting with newfound pain and he would rise once more to attack. But this was the darkest knight of Gotham City and his blow knocked Robin right off the floor, soaring backwards no more than a foot of the ground until he slid to a jerky halt ten feet away.

He forced himself to get back up.

Just in time to take the next blow.

Back on his feet, Robin almost missed the fist coming for his face. This he ducked under, crouching low before straightening again, own fist posed, jamming it up into Bruce's ribs. The man, however, had taken the like before on countless occasions and brought his elbow down between Robin's shoulder blades in reply.

In the back of his mind, Robin wondered what it would've been like had he never left Gotham in the first place. Maybe…maybe if he had just ignored Bruce like he usually did after he was shot by the Joker, Bruce would've forgotten his worries and the Dynamic Duo would go on fighting in the name of justice. Maybe…But then he would have never met the Titans, never saved the city, never saved the lives he did. And who could ever regret saving a life?

No. The days of yesterday were just that…days of yesterday.

But his mind still wandered aimlessly toward the past, a futile attempt to escape the pain that came after his back round-house kick failed, ankle grabbed and then twisted mercilessly until he spun sideways in the air and fell back to the hard dusty ground. He was on his side and when Bruce's foot connected with his stomach. He gasped in as much air as he could before his bo-staff slipped from his fingers and he rolled away, standing again with his only help coming in the form of adrenaline.

And what if Bruce did know what Robin was up to? Would he still hit him as hard—just like he would a criminal? Robin had taken pretty good beatings in practice when he was young, but that was for the simple reason that any normal thief or murderer wasn't going to go easy on him 'just because' he was a kid. This was far different. Each blow was powered by anger and grief and…perhaps even disappointment? No. Robin couldn't bear the thought. He fell from the Batman's shadow a long time ago, and he still wouldn't care what the man thought of him, whether it be bad or good.

Once a hero.

Die a hero.

That was the motto Robin made up in his mind, and it didn't matter how many times he doubted himself or had the urge to just give in to the other side because his mind always drifted back to that saying.

Once a hero—die a hero.

That's what true heroes did. They fought until they couldn't stand from the broken bones in their legs, couldn't speak from the blood flooding their mouth, and couldn't stop because they knew someone would suffer if they did. Well, right now he was timing himself to kill a criminal—or beat him to a bloody pulp; whichever kept him down first—and if he was wrong in any way or couldn't get the message across, he was as good as dead.

Bruce had picked up the discarded bo-staff, being one who taught Robin the basics of fighting with it, and held it ready for when Robin came into range. He was a wicked spirit when it came to wielding something with long ends. It was like stepping up to the whipping post and a man with the cat o' nine tails in his hand.

He could see Slade in the corner of his eye, standing still on the catwalk to watch the battle from above like some sort of god who put it into play. He was more like the devil.

Robin ducked the first swing, slowly backing up toward the wall. Bruce was herding him and Robin was trying to anticipate his next move. Honestly, he had gone to others to learn how to better wield the bo-staff. He had no idea what sort of style Bruce fought with.

Bruce charged.

Robin wanted to flip over Bruce but his sprained ankle protested against it. Besides, he was too slow again. The best he could do was grab the bo-staff with both hands and brace the ground with his feet as Bruce pushed him back. Dust floated into the air and soon Robin found himself pinned, the long hard length of metal pressed against his chest and slowly moving up toward his neck. But he knew better. He held onto the bo-staff still with both hands and slid up the wall with it. A head and a half higher than Bruce when the man couldn't stretch his arms any farther. Bruce knew he couldn't cut off Robin's air with pressure against the throat, so he moved onto the next best thing—the chest, and that was nothing of a pretty picture.

Imagine two trucks parked, face to face with you in between. Start them up and slowly drive forward and then you'll know what he was feeling.

Lower ribs he could afford to break, but when his chest was crushed involuntarily further than what he could handle he gathered what little strength he could muster and kicked out as his vision darkened. Apparently he hit something because the next thing he felt was the floor as he hit it for the umpteenth time. Bruce was the one to stumble back now, a hand over his jaw as blood seeped between closed lips. The same happened to Robin as he brushed himself off and stood, coughing violently when drew a deep breath. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his left glove and stared down at the mess on the ground. It too was soaked with blood—who it belonged to the most was still opened for debate because Robin was giving as good as he got. But what did that matter? The loser in a battle could easily win with a lucky blow.

The next thing that happened was too abrupt for Robin to calculate properly until he knew he broke something. Bruce lashed out with the bo-staff again, this time aiming vertically downward for Robin's waist. The best Robin could do was lean his upper body back, arms out of the way as the rod crashed into his left hip, an ominous crack following the instant it made contact. Robin was pushed onto his side, bouncing off the ground as he bit back a cry of agony and placed a hand on the broken hip. The bone was crushed right near the tip that was just below the waistline and it wasn't life threatening—but the pain was unbearable and he couldn't bend well at the waist unless he wanted to make matters worse.

He was doomed, plan failed.

Or maybe not…

"I don't want to do this too you, Robin…" Bruce sad quietly, conscience of Slade watching. He headed toward the boy and Robin could note the regret—no matter how small—in his voice. "But you have to believe me when I say I'm not a murderer."

Robin didn't say anything right away. He waited until Bruce leaned down, grabbed him by the front of his uniform, and lifted him off the ground to be face to face with his old mentor. Then he whispered. "Neither of us are…" As his hand slid toward Bruce's belt and pulled out the smoke bombs. "I was just waiting for a little privacy."

He could sense the puzzling look on Bruce's face before he dropped the two bombs he grabbed, arm hidden from Slade's view by Bruce's arm. Smoke erupted immediately in an angry cloud around them, spiraling upwards around the two before spreading out to fill the entire room. That's when Bruce finally believed him and set him down gently on the ground before they each pulled out their small gas masks.

"What's the show for?" Was his mentor's first question, voice stern and business like—void of all emotions as though their little battle had never occurred.

"For him." Robin answered, indicating Slade, wherever he was. "And I have to be quick about this because there's not much time left. Raven's hurt up on a roof near 65th Avenue and Cyborg needs to be told that Blood is somewhere here in Gotham with us—I think Jaze might be after him. That's the only conclusion I could come too after I realized I was dealing with the real you—"

"You knew about this all along?" It was more of a statement than a question, but Bruce didn't like to sound as though he didn't know something.

"After the first time you beat me, Slade was there to pick up the pieces. The second time it happened he went so far as to save my life. I started to suspect something the moment I knew he was in Gotham and when I began to connect him with Blood he tried to throw me off."

"So you decided to battle me one on one until either of us apparently died?"

Figures he'd say it like that.

Robin scowled. "Look—he wants to corrupt me and the only way to keep his hands off this battle was to fight you myself. He knows how I fight, and he knows when I'm acting. Besides, who broke the bones of whom?"

Bruce shook his head. "Perhaps home would be the best place to discuss this after we clean up this mess. Right now we have to find Slade."

"Not now—" Robin reached out his hand and grabbed Batman's arm when he turned away. The bomb should be going off soon."

That stopped him.

"Bomb?"

"You know the emblem you picked off the ground?"

Batman's hand shot to his belt and took out the emblem he picked up earlier. Holding it up to one ear, Bruce listened….

"You made a bomb?"

Robin arched an eyebrow. "It's not like I never knew how. Now toss it down. I meant to somehow get your utility belt off earlier but I was kind of losing, so I waited until you got into speech mood before I explained things. The last thing I wanted to do was blow you to smithereens."

"You made a bomb…in my city?"

Robin sighed behind his mask, aware that the smoke around them was dying out and Slade was somewhere still around. "I scanned the area and have an alarm on my communicator. No one comes here after some phony mofia rumor and the bomb should only take down half the building. Besides, the nearest fire department is five minutes away from here."

"And you're going to kill him?"

He almost sighed…truth was, Slade was immortal.

"Just shut up. I'll explain later." Robin snapped, swatting the emblem out of Bruce's hand just as he noticed something stirring up the smoke. He reached to his utility belt and slipped out his grappling hook before aiming high and letting the wiring go. It spiraled up to the city and made no sound as it tightened, grabbing hold of something. "Ceiling window." He explained as Bruce followed his example, up in the air before Robin was, speeding up toward the ceiling. It was when they the highest point of smoke when it hit him…and boy did it hit him hard.

Body-checked from the side, two arms pinning his one free arm to his side as they closed around him, he was thrown through the air and out a side window as his grappling hook slipped from his finger. The force of Slade's jump carried them over the small alleyway below before landing on the lower roof next door, Slade on top. Robin was winded from the hit, the landing, and the body that fell on top of him. More pain added to the chest crunching trick Bruce had going only and not to mention the flame aroused in him broken hip. He couldn't hold back the cry of agony that followed.

"Thought to trick me?" Slade spat venomously, sitting up to straddle Robin's hips before landing a punch to the side of his face. "How did I know you would…"

"Didn't seem to before." Robin retorted with equal fury.

Slade landed another punch and had to turn Robin's head to look at him after the second hit, stars dancing across his vision. "Why do you think I let him beat you senseless?"

Robin spat the blood in his mouth at Slade's face, a line crossing over Slade's mask. Eerily, it suited the man. "So what? At least he knows what's going on. And what's stopping him from informing the League? When they come looking for you you'll have hell to pay."

Slade backhanded him this time and the stars reappeared before they could fully fade. "I've run into them before, and believe when I say they'll come too late. I'm destroying Gotham and everyone you ever knew."

Anger boiled up in his wounded chest and he began to struggle, despite the pain, to get up. "I'll stop you." He growled.

"No, you'll watch—you'll watch everything I do and you can either stay on the sidelines or join in on the game. Trust me when I say it's easier to destroy something than it is to create it."

"I'm not the destructive type of guy."

Slade gave a small laugh, reaching to his belt for a communicator. "Then you can sit and watch until you're ready to pay." And turned it one. "Blood…"

"Yes?"

"Is everything set up?"

"But of course. Just say the word."

"Meet me by the docks."

There was static as the other line was cut and Slade returned it to his belt. He watched the confusion etched on Robin's face before giving another small laugh. "While the police have been busy tracking down the supposed Serial Killer, I've been out stealing from Wayne Industries and other supplies of the sort. I bet the break-ins have been on the news but no one thinks they're special—things of that sort seem to happen often in this city."

"So…" Robin frowned. "You're building a weapon of mass destruction?"

"It's exceedingly simply, actually. Just a massive bomb planted beneath the city, lined up with other small bombs spread to other sides of the city as well. When one blows up they all go off and then Gotham will be no more. And you know what—no one but you, the Bat and your annoying team know I'm here. The Justice League won't be able to piece together the mystery."

"Yeah, but you're forgetting something."

"Oh?"

Robin hid the grin.

"This isn't my city…" He waited to see if Slade had any witty come-back before he continued. "It's his, and he isn't as lenient as I am."

The sidekick that knocked Slade clear off Robin delivered the message well enough. Robin was still a little upset that there would always be times when he'd need his mentors help, but right now he could deal with that. Right now he had his own team to deal with.

As the Bat charged again at hi ready opponent, Robin slipped out his communicator and turned it on.

"Beast Boy?"

-BB-

It was like hearing a voice from a dead relative.

"DUDE! You're…alive!"

There was a heavy sigh on the other line. "For the moment, yes. Now—where are you?"

Beast stared at Starfire, sitting across from him at the hospital. The moment she heard Robin's voice she was in Beast Boy's face like a mouth to a flame. "Um, the hospital. We had to take Raven in but that's only because the people here saw her levitating. The bruises on her head are gone and I think she's almost finished healing, but they won't let us see her 'cause they think she some sort of alien." Beast Boy turned in his seat, trying to get Starfire out of his face. "But I think Starfire looks and acts more like an alien then Raven does. I have no idea why they don't strap her down to a table."

Starfire made a face but said nothing to listen to Robin.

"I'll get there as soon as I can, but first I have to find Blood."

"Yeah—he's working with Slade, isn't he?"

"…You knew?"

Beast Boy sighed this time. "Yeah. Right around the same time he tried to kill me."

"Alright, then…do you know where Jaze is? He could help—"

"If he wasn't possessed by Blood!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "The last time I saw him he was fighting the good fight against the inner demon in his head. Blood must have skipped from Batman to Jaze and—"

"Done and dealt with, Relish."

"Huh?"

BB paused, staring dumbfounded at the communicator. "Jaze? Is that you?"

"Who else knows to call you Relish?"

"O…K…what do you have for us, Jaze?"

"Simple, really—a bomb in the basement if that's what you'd call it. I had a nice look around when I skipped into Blood's body for a little revenge and now he's unconscious somewhere in the subway system. I'll tell you something interesting though—he's got one hell of a bomb packed onto one of the trains. Must have taken Slade a while to build it."

"I see…"

Good. At least Robin had that 'planning' tone to his voice when something finally clicked.

"Hey, Robin, where do we—"

The explosion in that background which almost blew his ear off interrupted his sentence and nearly fried his communicator. A high pitched, unbearable whine followed and even scared Starfire away for the time being. One of the nurses gave BB a scolding look and he nodded sheepishly, crushing the speaker into his hand until he was certain it was silent.

"What the hell was that?" Jaze cursed into his own communicator. It was really Robin's old one, something he took off him the time he was the doctor's prisoner. "That wasn't you, Beast Boy…was it?"

"No. That was me…Just hold on—I'll have to call you back."

"You'd better." Beast Boy muttered before the line closed.

"Where are you now, Beast Boy?"

"Hospital—with Raven and Starfire."

"Alright. Stay put until I get there."

He rolled his eyes before he shut off his own communicator. "Like I have a choice." Really, he didn't. The most he knew was that Blood and Slade were working together (for the moment), Jaze just knocked Blood out of the game, there was a bomb riding around merrily in the subway system and Robin, Slade and the Dark Knight where Lord-knows-where in Gotham…if they even were still in Gotham…

Fun…

-A-

Alex: Wow…I actually made this as long as my first couple of chapters…

Victor: Must be because I'm around.

Alex: Must be, eh? Well—I hope that makes up for the lack in updating—and you won't get another chapter until Shara Shima updates 'If At First You Don't Succeed'. See you later, guys.

Until Again,

Alexnandru Van Gordon

And,

Victor Van Heiring