Disclaimer: Property of DC

Rating: This chapter is rated T for language and violence that includes character death.

Edited: 4/02/2020


Gotham Holiday

Chapter Seventeen: Augury


Dropping the brand, Joker pulled out his pistol and began firing at the theatre's exposed rafters and private balconies along with his men. None of them noticed Robin rolling off of the workbench to crawl towards Harley. Robin kept low to the ground; using the various artist crates and stakes of supplies for cover. Seconds into the wild sprays of gunfire, Joker lifted a hand to his ear. The shooting stopped as he listened for any sign of Deathstroke.

"Boss!" A henchman pointed at a glowing, red dot hovering in the center of Joker's forehead.

Gasping, Joker realized the threat and seized the henchman to use as a human shield. As he ducked behind him, two other men standing to either side were killed with successive headshots. Joker's remaining men panicked and opened fire again—wildly shooting at the derelict theatre's shadowy ceiling.

Robin reached Harley and gently untangled her limbs to find her bruised face. Thin lines of blood ran from her mouth to her chin. The crowbar had left welts on her body. Her costume, badly damaged, had slid completely off one shoulder and her hat lay rumpled elsewhere. Her black and white face makeup juxtaposed with her blond hair and costume reminded Robin of the way people sometimes dressed to celebrate the Day of the Dead.

He carefully removed the gag from her mouth and felt for a pulse. "Harley, can you hear me?"

Noticing them, Joker abandoned his human shield to risk darting across the stage, and with malicious glee, snatched up the crowbar he'd used to beat Harley. He lunged to strike, but Robin twisted in time to catch Joker's arm. His other fist punched Joker's mouth, sending the villain sprawling backwards. A few teeth followed him down to scatter across the stage. Joker grunted on impact and lost his crowbar. Before he could recover it, Robin's weight landed on his stomach. Joker gasped as the air fled his lungs. Straddling Joker's chest, Robin threw all of his hurt and rage into pummeling him. Despite the blood and pain, Joker laughed at the furious child.

The sound froze Robin with one reddened fist still poised to strike. As he hesitated, Joker's strained laughter filled the otherwise silent theatre.

"That's right!" Joker croaked; his face swollen and bloody. Blood frothed at his mouth. His words slurred. "Kill me! I knew you had it in you... Everyone does. You may have started out as Batman's precious protégé, but you're mine now." Joker grinned with delight. "Welcome to the funny side, Kid."

Joker moved to sit up fast, his hands racing to snatch Robin by the throat. A bullet hit Joker's forehead and knocked him back to the floor.

Robin stared down at the body beneath him with wide eyes; acutely aware of the blood now splattered across his face and clothes. Joker's mouth remained fixed in a yellow grin, but the calculating gaze that had haunted Robin's dreams for years quickly faded from the villain's eyes. Robin flinched when Slade's hand closed around his shoulder. Blinking, he looked up to see Slade offering a hand. Robin took it, although he was unable to tear his gaze from the Joker's beaten face as he was helped to his feet.

As Robin gawked at the body, Slade attempted to wipe some of the Joker's blood from his face, but succeeded only in smearing it across Robin's chin and left cheekbone.

Oh well.

Giving up, Slade did a quick scan of the rest of his apprentice. The most obvious injury was a healing right blackeye. The bruised skin was visible past the edges of the red cloth Robin wore as a mask. Other than that, he looked remarkably in one piece.

Gripping his chin a moment, Slade turned Robin's gaze away from the Joker. Without a mask that obscured his eyes, Robin was always easy to read. His blue eyes held layers of emotion, but chief above all of them was shock. Slade asked, "Where are you injured?"

Harley's soft moan drew their attention.

Slade drew his sword at the sound and moved to finish what the Joker had started.

Alarmed, Robin rounded Slade, his left ankle or leg obviously causing him pain when he put pressure on it. Robin put himself before Harley. "What are you doing? They almost beat her to death for trying to save me. She's the reason I haven't starved or frozen to death. She's not a threat."

"She played her part. Without her, the Joker may have never succeeded in taking you." Slade's eye narrowed. "Move."

"You don't have to kill her," Robin insisted. His palms were raised as if to block Slade's advance. "Slade, ever since this all started, you've done nothing but talk about how much you want to leave Gotham. Can't we just go?"

Suddenly aware of the blood on his face, Robin used his sleeve to wipe it off in disgust. He swept a hand back to Harley. "There's nothing slowing us down but this."

Slade seemed unmoved, so Robin added, "I heard Batman and the others saved the city, which means you let them out. They could already be on their way here. Are you sure you're ready to face all of them?"

"You're incorrect to assume I plan an ambush or some other grandiose attack against your former allies. I released them because they had a purpose to serve." Slade sheathed his sword and gestured at Harley. "Search her for the Kryptonite. She took it before they left me for dead in that alley."

With relief, Robin quickly knelt beside Harley. He reached to untie her hands.

"Here." Slade offered him a knife.

Surprised, Robin used it to free Harley's hands and feet before giving the weapon back.

Harley's eyelids trembled with only one eye able to fully open. With no small effort, she reached into a hidden pocket in her costume and retrieved the small, green rock; dropping it into Robin's hands.

"I wanted to thank you for keeping me alive," Robin told her as he held the Kryptonite up for Slade to take. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."

"Bad stuff just happens," Harley grimaced, "'specially when you hang around …bad people." Straining, she pushed herself up a little to see the Joker's body before resting again on the stage floor.

"He's dead," Robin confirmed. "Try to hold on, Harley. Batman and my team will find this place. They'll get you help. Just… don't tell them about the Kryptonite, okay? I don't want them to follow us."

Harley studied his face to see if he meant it.

"I can end your suffering now," Slade offered. "Of course… my Apprentice would rather you freeze to death or die of your obvious internal injuries."

Harley managed a sour frown as she closed her eyes. "Screw you, Deathstroke. Why don't you go… find a river…"

"Have it your way." Slade placed a hand on Robin's shoulder before turning to leave the stage.

Harley didn't reply or open her eyes again. She moaned and turned her faced away. Looking her over, Robin was sure she had broken ribs and probably other broken bones, too. He wasn't sure he could leave her in such a vulnerable state.

Robin frowned deeply. "She needs a hospital."

"Leave her and come."

"But—"

Slade activated the nanoscopic probes, and Robin, unprepared, cried out as he clutched his stomach with one arm and folded over on his knees, his other hand flat against the stage for support. His shoulders hunched as he struggled to keep himself from toppling over. The probes hurt so much worse than anything a taser or a henchman's lit cigarette could do. They made him feel like a doll being unwoven by a thousand tiny needles at once. The attack ended in seconds, but the pain reverberated throughout Robin's already exhausted and injured body. Shaking, he glared up at Slade.

Slade watched him recover. "You seem to have forgotten how much I hate repeating myself. Believe it or not, Robin, it's not your job to save everyone. It wasn't before—and it definitely isn't now."

Humiliated and angry, Robin sprang to attack. Slade easily caught him by the arms. He shoved Robin back—releasing him. Stumbling, Robin kept his fist raised.

"Save your anger for you enemies," Slade snapped before Robin could launch another toothless attack. "I'm on your side, remember?"

Robin cut an angry hand through the air. "You're on your own side, Slade. You don't care about me. I don't think you're even capable of really caring about anyone other than yourself."

With a deepening glare of his own, Slade flicked a hand towards the Joker's corpse. "I killed him. What more do you want?"

I want to forget what he did to me.

I want to go home.

The words felt too childish to speak aloud.

"As if it matters to you want I want." Robin used every bit of his self-control to reign in his anger. He crossed his arms, took a shuddering breath, and averted his gaze; unable to look at Slade without losing his temper again.

But as his eyes fell on the J-shaped brand lying nearby on the stage, Robin's glare faltered. He found himself trying not to think about the sizzling heat bearing down on his face or the searing pain it would have caused—the horror Batman and his friends might have undergone had they found Robin dead and draped across the statue of Batman.

"I know some of the methods he used to torture you," Slade told him, interrupting his grim thoughts. "I've seen the recordings he made to torment Batman, and I've heard his henchmen brag about their own attempts to break you. You survived, as I knew you would."

Robin glanced at Harley. Her breathing was slow but steady. He faced Slade. "Why did you wait until now to stop him? I can't explain how, but I know you've been lurking nearby for days. I could feel it like the bond I used to have with Raven. You knew exactly where I was."

Robin uncrossed one of his arms to gesture at the statue. "You probably knew about that, too. Until now, you let him do whatever he wanted. I'm just curious—what changed your mind, Slade? Couldn't stand the thought of your stupid apprentice walking around with a big, ugly J on his face? I guess it would have clashed pretty badly with the rest of the costume, huh? Between the J and the S, people wouldn't know what to call to me."

"If you truly believe I'm a monster incapable of empathy, then why do you expect more from me?" Slade asked. "The only lives I care about now are mine and yours. Believe me when I say that the Joker was never a part of my plans for you, and that I regret you had to endure him."

"But why did you wait so long?"

"Extracting you before now was impossible and were other issues to prioritize. I learned of Joker's plan and that your life was not in jeopardy until he brought you to this theatre. We're lucky so many of his men are dead or have deserted. This little rescue could have gotten a lot more complicated than simply shooting him and a few dozen bodyguards. I only regret that we could not give him the death he truly deserved."

Slade's words and other thoughts crowded together in Robin's mind—the brand approaching his face—the statue's waiting arms—the deep hum of electricity—the wet cloth being wrapped around his head and—

Slade took him by the shoulders. Robin flinched, having been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed Slade move closer.

"You're here with me, boy. He's dead. It's over."

Robin forced himself to avoid looking at the Joker again. He looked at his hands instead. They were bloodstained. They seemed to belong to someone else.

"It doesn't feel real," Robin murmured.

"Feel free to poke him with a stick." Slade let go of Robin. He motioned for Robin to go first and together they left the stage.

Robin felt a strange numbness as he led Slade up the theatre aisle. When they reached the exit doors, he paused to look back across the empty rows of seats to the stage where they'd left Harley, possibly to die alone. From such a distance, he couldn't be sure she still breathed.

His gaze moved to the statue. It loomed tall and dark in the center of the stage. What would Bruce think if he saw him leaving someone behind like this? If Harley didn't survive, Robin knew that no matter what she'd said otherwise, it would be his fault for failing to convince Slade her life wasn't worthless.

Slade stepped around Robin and pushed through the exit.

Following, Robin could almost feel the statue's eyes watching his back.


Outside, a soft curtain of snow fell over Gotham. Robin didn't think about the cold as he shadowed Slade through a short series of streets and alleys. He didn't think about anything. With each step he took, a slight twinge of pain shot through his ankle. Oddly, it was the pain that gave him something tangible to root himself in reality. A small part of him kept expecting to wake up in the morgue drawer again.

At some point, he absently scooped up some snow and rubbed it over his hands to clean away any blood still staining his knuckles and face.

Slade paused them at the backside of a small bakery. The alley was empty other than a pile of snow-capped trash bags. Shoving some out of his way, Slade uncovered a black duffle bag. He slung it over his shoulder and, driving his shoulder into the bakery' back door, broke into the shop with ease. Robin followed him. Inside, they found the store vandalized with broken furniture and graffiti strewn walls. The cash registers were broken into. The glass displays shattered.

Robin sighed at the empty bread shelves.

Slade gave him the duffle bag and pointed out the door clearly marked as a restroom. "Get changed. We need to keep moving."


As Robin entered the bathroom and flipped the light switch, he was surprised to find the power working. At the sink he cupped his hands and filled them with water to drink; grimacing as the cold hit the cuts and scratches on his hands left by the fence he'd helped Jason slip through.

I probably need a Tetanus shot.

Swallowing, Robin frowned at his reflection. He'd lost some weight, and he was filthy. He quickly scrubbed the red smear, what remained of Joker's blood, from his face, using the hem of his sweater before shrugging off the garment. He also took off the red cloth he wore as a mask and set it aside. The black eye one of Joker's men had given him earlier that week was healing fast. It wasn't swollen anymore or red, but the skin around his eye had turned a dark purple smudged with green.

Wetting his hands, Robin raked his fingers fast through his hair to get rid of some of the grime. Shivering, he turned halfway to check on the word carved into his back. The skin was bright red and puffy around the scabbed letters. Hopefully it wasn't infected. He noted the other burns, cuts, and bruises he'd earned through all his escape attempts.

Not a good look, he thought to himself without regret.

The saturating cold drove him to hurry up and follow Slade's order. Robin unzipped the duffle bag. His eyes widened.

"No way..."

Inside, he found his entire hero costume; including his steel-toed shoes and a collapsed bo-staff. Robin removed the folded uniform first. He ran his fingertips over the stylized R.

But why this and not another apprentice costume? Robin's brow furrowed. More importantly, where did he get these?

Getting dressed, Robin found the shoes a good fit, but perhaps a little more snug than his usual size. Expanding the bo-staff, he wasn't surprised to find it a little shorter and lighter than the model he currently used. It was a previous version, and he knew it hadn't come from his closet in Jump. He placed the domino mask on his face and turned to the mirror. Despite the bruises and his disheveled hair, a deep sense of relief spread in his chest.

The only downside to the costume was its lack of winter protection, but Robin hardly cared. He swung the bo-staff around a few times before collapsing it to put away in his utility belt. The compartment he opened was already full of smoke pellets. Gasping, Robin realized he should have known by the belt's weight that it wasn't empty. He quickly checked the other compartments and found his shuriken and a variety of different flash discs, compact traps, and even a grappling gun. Robin hastily rearranged the items to their normal spots, and after putting away his bo-staff, walked out of the bathroom with his mind full of questions.

Slade leaned against one of the few unbroken café tables as he reloaded his guns. His blue eye assessed Robin. "You're looking less homeless..."

Robin flipped a chair upright and sat down. Leaning forward, he considered his green gloves. "Speaking of, where did you get—"

"Hijack escaped while your former allies were out saving the city," Slade interrupted to explain. "I killed him and helped myself to Batman's armory."

Robin warily looked Slade over, but saw none of the more dangerous weapons kept in the armory strapped to the villain's body. Slade wore a black combat suit and his gray utility belt. He had a sword, several guns, knives, and a bo-staff—as far as Robin could tell. His white hair was pulled back and he still wore a black eyepatch over his right eye. Slade, finished with his guns, put them away and began keying away at the handheld device he always carried.

A sudden thought hit Robin. Alarmed, he asked, "Is Alfred—"

"Like you, I saved him from a rather nasty fall." Slade met Robin's shocked gaze as he slipped the device into his belt. "You're welcome."

"Did Hijack hurt him? Is he okay?"

"He'll live." Slade headed for the exit.

Robin scratched the back of his head as he followed him back into the soft snowfall. He caught up to Slade and asked, "Why did you save him?"

Glancing down at him as they strode through the alley, Slade said nothing.

Robin decided it didn't really matter. If Slade was telling the truth, then Alfred was alive and Hijack was no longer a threat. "Thank you for saving him," Robin said, "and for helping me escape the Joker. ...He kept saying you were dead, but I knew he was lying. I could sense you around sometimes. I used to have a similar bond with Raven."

Slade said, "Such a bond can only be truly broken by death, or so I've read. Once I was able, I went to the cache in the docks I told you about. I stayed there until I recovered enough to find you. Fortunately, the Limiters left in my blood are nowhere near as potent as they were when Hijack first attacked, and my body fully restored itself within the first two nights. I found you using the bond I've created between us, and when I learned of Joker's plans, I set my own in motion."

Robin gave him a sharp look. "You've been in my head?"

"Relax. I can't read your thoughts or memories, but I can always find you."

Robin rubbed his right shoulder as they reached the end of the alley. He wondered, and not for the first time, how Slade always seemed to get his hands on magical items and tricks. Thinking of the powerful device the man carried and of the effortless way he'd taken over Bruce's systems, Robin wondered how and where Slade had come into possession of such advanced technology. Of course, there was always the possibility that Slade had created it himself and that he held abilities on par with magic. As far as the latter went, Robin doubted it. If Slade really could move objects with his mind and create psychic bonds at will, he wouldn't be using the nanoscopic probes to control Robin. He'd just use his mind to control him and everyone else.

As they left the alley, Robin put aside these thoughts as he swept the main street for any signs of Joker's men or other threats; however, only a black car with midnight tinted windows awaited them.


A bald man exited the front passenger side and hurried to open one of the backseat doors.

Robin gave Slade a questioning look, but Slade only motioned for him to get in first. Robin climbed into the car and slid across its black leather seat. A man wearing a half-white, half-black toboggin was at the driver's wheel.

Slade got in next to Robin. The door shut, and when the bald man was back in his seat, the car pulled away in silence.

Robin glanced at Slade again and, receiving zero eye contact, turned his attention to the tinted window instead. Buildings and empty streets rolled by. Robin realized he was no longer on the north island, but in Midtown. The car kept south driving at a steady pace through the heart of Gotham's central island eventually crossing Salvation Bridge to the south-most island. As they passed over the bridge, Robin saw the dim lights of the Narrows far below as they entered the Kingston District and turned right. Kingston, along with most of the south island, was Two-Face's territory.

The Metro-Narrows Bridge lay ahead. It was one of the biggest bridges in the world, spanning across the bay and connecting Gotham to the vast business district of Metropolis. But to Robin's surprise, the car pulled off the main road and into an alley.

The bald man got out to open Slade's door.

As Robin followed Slade out of the car, he scanned the alley. It was unremarkable with graffitied walls, an overflowing dumpster, and blacked out windows. But then, high on one of the building's fire escapes, Robin caught sight of a sentry barely visible in the shadows. He held a big rifle with both hands.

Slade and Robin were led through an iron door and into a closed bar. They passed through a dim lounge area, up a narrow hall, and then into a private game room with a large poker table, a mini bar, and a pool table.

"The boss wants to apologize for being late," said the bald henchman. "He sends his appreciation for what you did for him over at Arkham."

Robin thought of Warden Ashcroft. Killing the warden for Two-Face must have been one of those other priorities Slade mentioned.

Robin knew the warden from dropping off criminals at the asylum with Batman and had met him as Dick Grayson at various city events. Gloria, the warden's wife, always accompanied him to the Wayne Christmas Charity Ball. Robin wondered if they had any children, or, considering their age, grandchildren.

He thought of Starfire and his friends—of the way they'd practiced using their civilian names in preparation for the party. Back then, his biggest concern had been one of them slipping up and using their powers or the wrong name in front of Gotham's elite or the attending media. It seemed like a worry that belonged to another life.

The henchman swept a hand towards the bar. "Feel free to help yourselves. I'll be in the hall if you need something."

Before stepping outside and closing the door, he threw Robin a curious, if distrustful glance.

"Why are we here?" Robin asked as soon as the man was gone.

Slade took a seat at the bar. "Perhaps you should search for something to eat while you have the opportunity."

Robin's stomach tightened at the thought of food. He began searching the bar; finding a jar of olives a smaller jar of cocktail sauce in the mini-fridge. There was plenty of alcohol and mixes amongst the shelves, but little in terms of actual food. Robin merged with a bag of tortilla chips. He sat alongside Slade at the bar and munched them, knowing that sooner than later he would need to eat some real food again.

Not long after, Two-Face and two of his men, including the bald one, strolled into the private game room. Two-Face held a big, rolled up document and a hand-sized square disc that looked like it could be inserted into a computer. The henchmen waited by the door.

Two-Face nodded in greeting at Slade as both moved to the pool table. Glancing back, Slade gestured for Robin to join them, and Robin came to stand on the other side of Slade where he could keep Two-Face fully in sight.

Two-Face unrolled the large document and spread it across the pool table, using a gun and one of the weighted balls to keep the edges from curling back. It was a blueprint of LexCorp.

He drew a finger across the subterranean level. "He's got his own private subway that runs from here to the site. It only goes back and forth, and it's fast. The custodian my men talked to claimed it only takes about seven minutes."

Two-Face handed Slade a smaller map.

As Slade read it, Robin craned his neck to see the map, too. It was another blueprint that mapped out a testing site with a large building full of labs, a few hangers presumably housing planes, a launch site, and a landing strip. Robin recognized it as Luthor's construction site for his military contracts. It was just outside of Metropolis.

Slade scanned both documents with his handheld device and put it away. He then rolled them up and handed them to Robin.

Robin took the maps with a scowl, unsure of when he became Slade's personal secretary.

Two-Face gave the square disc he'd brought with him to Slade. "Here. I don't expect I'll be getting it back anytime soon, huh?"

Robin noticed the disc had the acronym ANNA across the top in wiry, red capitalized letters. "What is it?"

Two-Face shot him a glare as if incensed by the sound of his voice, but the heated look changed into brief alarm as he glanced at Slade.

"Good luck," Two-Face said to him. "The car's outside, but you can stay here longer if you want. I've got business. With Joker dead, there's a whole lot of real-estate that just went up for grabs. I'm about to go stake my claim with Penguin and some other bosses we've let in on the fact. If you want in, you should come, too. Getting rid of that clown did us all a favor we won't forget."

Slade was busy integrating ANNA with his handheld device. "No thanks. I have no intention of staking a claim in this city or any other. ...In my line of work, it's better to keep moving." Finished, he met Two-Face's gaze. "Feel free to share everything I've told you with Gotham's other crime lords."

Two-Face's eyes shifted to Robin. "Don't worry... I'll let 'em know."


A different black car than before waited for them in the alley. Robin recognized it as one of Bruce Wayne's customized luxury cars, but caught himself from saying anything or reacting outright.

The bald henchman handed Slade the car keys. "Nice ride. I put a tag on it like you asked, so the cops shouldn't bother you."

"Good." Slade used a button on the keys to pop the trunk. "Put away the maps, Robin."

Robin moved to do so, but as he circled the car and caught sight of the trunk's contents, he almost dropped the maps.

There was a body in the trunk.

The man wore black slacks and dress shoes. His tailored vest and white dress shirt were scuffed and dirty. A black hood covered his face. His hands were zip-tied together behind his back. Although he was breathing, the man didn't react to the trunk opening or the sound of Slade and the henchman talking. Robin wondered if he was sedated. His brow furrowed in concern. The hood in combination with drugs could cause the man to asphyxiate—especially if he woke up that way and had a panic attack.

"Huh." The henchman scratched his scalp. "If I'd known you had a stiff in there, I would've offered to ditch the body for you. We got a great spot. Real secluded."

Robin's masked eyes traced the small, delicate vine pattern woven across the dark vest. His heart beat faster with dread and confusion.

"Slade…"

Slade met his gaze. "Close the trunk and get in the car."

Robin set the rolled up maps next to the man's knees. He wanted to pull off the hood and confirm what he already knew, but Slade and the henchman were watching, so Robin gave Alfred another worried look before pulling the trunk's lid down.


Slade drove them towards the Metro-Narrows Bridge and Metropolis.

"It may take time," Slade said, "but they'll move on eventually. Who knows… maybe he'll even find himself a new Robin."

Robin sat in the front passenger seat with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. Concern and anger fought for control of his mouth, and he found himself unable to respond. They were halfway across the giant bridge before he trusted himself to speak without losing his temper.

"You promised you would leave my family and friends alone."

"Alfred's wellbeing is still completely in your hands," Slade said without remorse. "If you truly care about him, you'll show it by minding your tone. After all… the consequences may prove deadly if he's subjected to my nanoscopic probes twice in one night."

"You infected him?" Robin turned angrily in his seat to face Slade. "You tortured me with those things knowing it could have killed him!"

If anything, Slade seemed bored at his anger. "Calm down. I watched him survive much worse. Two-Face's crew were unware of his presence. Perhaps he remained sedated and felt nothing. Either way, I hope for your sake that the lesson doesn't require repeating. When I give you an order, Apprentice, don't make me wait."

Robin fumed. "You only saved him from Hijack so you could use him against me and Batman. I should have known. You would never just save someone because it's the right thing to do. There always has to be something in it for you. Some piece of some plan."

Slade kept his eye on the road. "What's done is done. You can waste energy pouting or choose to accept it."

Robin sulked against his seat and crossed his arms again. After several minutes of tense silence, he asked, "Are you sure he's not hurt? Hijack didn't break anything? You didn't break anything?"

"Did he look broken?" Slade took a breath to quell his own irritation. "For a house servant, he's surprisingly adept at survival."

As they crossed into Metropolis, sleek buildings with modern architecture and towering skyscrapers rose to meet them on either side of the wide highway. The road signs weren't riddled with bullet holes or covered in graffiti. There were no piles of trash bags left to rot in the snow. Like Gotham's business sector, this part of Metropolis never slept. They soon were caught up in traffic.

Robin watched the woman in the car alongside them as she spoke harshly into her cellphone. He knew that even if she glanced his way she wouldn't see him. Bruce's car was designed to protect the privacy of its occupants.

Robin stared at his murky reflection in the window's dark surface. "I'll do anything to keep him safe."

There was no victory in Slade's voice. "I know."


Minutes later, the car exited the highway, taking a ramp away from the flow of traffic and circling back towards the coast. They slipped into a shipping yard. The car slowed to a crawl as it passed giant stacks of shipment containers sat in organized rows throughout the yard. The yard was like a maze. Once they'd ventured deep enough to be very isolated from the rest of Metropolis, Slade parked the car and popped the trunk again.

"Go," he said.

Robin was out of the car and heaving the trunk's lid up in seconds. He eased the black hood off and used a knife from his utility belt to sever the zip-tie. Alfred stirred and awoke groggy and confused. He looked as if he'd escaped a terrible car accident. The dirt and blood on his disheveled clothes seemed horribly out of place. Robin's chest tightened to see him injured and to know he'd faced a monster like Hijack with only Slade around to help.

"Alfred, are you okay?"

At the sound of his voice, Alfred's mind seemed to clear. His eyes widened as Robin helped him climb out of the trunk. Robin held onto his arm while he regained his bearings.

"Good Lord." Alfred regarded Robin as if he were a ghost. He grasped him by the shoulders. "It's really you. Are you alright, young sir?" Alfred took in their surroundings. "Where are we?"

"I'm fine," Robin said. "Did Hijack hurt you?"

Alfred shook his head. "Aside from a few bumps and bruises, I'm actually quite well."

"Slade killed him," Robin told him. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be here."

"I would argue that none of us should be here." Alfred gave Slade, who had come to loom nearby, a sharp, if brief, look before returning his attention to Robin.

Robin frowned at the sight of blood on Alfred's face. There was bad scrape on his right cheek. It probably looked worse than it was with all the dried blood and dirt, but Robin couldn't help but feel unsettled.

"You're sure you're okay?" he pressed. "The nanoscopic probes—Slade claims he infected you."

Alfred brushed aside his concerns as he dusted the dirt from his own sleeves. "I passed out the moment they were activated. I felt nothing."

He glanced at the trunk. "Although I have to admit, it's been quite a while since I found myself chased by a maniac and tossed semi-conscious into a car… I suppose you never know when the good old days might circle around to meet you."

Robin's frown deepened at his dry humor. "You could have died."

With a tired smile, Alfred said, "Seeing you in one piece, young sir, is a gift I would willingly die for. I never imagined this night would turn out like this, but I cannot deny how tremendously relieved I am to see you again."

Robin couldn't deny the comfort he found in Alfred's familiar presence. Before he could ask about Starfire and the others, Robin was suddenly struck with an image of a bloody face and a wide, yellow grin.

"Slade killed the Joker, too."

Alfred's eyebrows raised in interest.

He then turned a stern expression on Slade.

The butler didn't seem one bit intimidated by him. If anything, Slade got the impression the old man was torn between unleashing a lecture or a threat. Amused, Slade decided it was worth finding out.

"I saw what your half-brother did to your wife and children," Alfred said. "He recorded each horrific deed with a camera embedded in his armor. Of course, seeing as you've had free reign of our computer, I'm sure you've seen the footage for yourself by now. ...A parent should never outlive their children."

Slade's eye narrowed.

"I dare not imagine the revenge you must have extracted upon that fiend."

At this, Slade allowed a smirk. "He got everything he deserved."

Alfred took a small step to place himself slightly in front of Robin, who was watching him, and Slade's reaction to him, with obvious concern. "I don't know why you have chosen this boy to kidnap and torment, but you should know he also has a family who will not hesitate to avenge him. You would be wise to cease this game now. With each action you take, you only increase the stakes and put not only yourself, but Robin at risk as well. If you truly care about him, you will let him go."

Slade's voice was without malice. "My reasons are my own. Take comfort, if you can in this, Alfred—I have always had Robin's best interests at heart." Gesturing at the car, Slade added, "Now... unless you'd rather continue in the trunk, I suggest you and the boy get in the car. Robin and I have one more meeting to attend, and I'm already several days late."

Robin shared a look with Alfred before throwing Slade a scowl and heading for the backseat.

"Hope it doesn't go like the last one," he groused as Alfred got in on the other side.


Slade remained several feet from the car, turned away from them and focused on his handheld device. Robin knew he used it for communication and to monitor their surroundings. Who knew what else the device could do now that A.N.N.A. was a part of its makeup.

Alfred said, "I wonder if he truly believes he stands a chance in outrunning Batman and our other friends."

Robin stared at his green gloves. His mind spun with the day's events. He'd gone from being the Joker's prisoner, to almost dying, and back to being under Slade's control in the span of only a few hours, and now to top it off, Alfred was there, infected with Slade's little torture machines, and Bruce was probably somewhere going nuts.

Robin sighed. "Alfred, maybe I should stop fighting this. Maybe becoming his apprentice is the right thing to do. He might let you go home, and there wouldn't be a risk of anyone else getting hurt or killed. If I can convince everyone to just leave us alone, then—"

"Look at me," Alfred interrupted as he turned in his seat to better face the young hero himself. "Good. Now, explain what put such an absurd thought into your head."

Robin wasn't sure how to answer. He wasn't sure what to do.

Alfred softened his tone. "Then listen instead. Giving in to that man's whims would be a rejection of everything you are not just as Robin, but as Richard Grayson, too. You were raised by good men and women to stand opposite to the likes of Deathstroke the Terminator. He has tortured and murdered innocent people of Gotham all for the sake of getting the upper hand on his brother and gaining control over your life. Please, young sir, do not let this sociopath get a foothold in your mind. You mustn't give in to him. It is everything he wants and nothing he deserves. He must answer for his crimes—not be rewarded for them."

Robin thought instantly of Red X, of Grant, and frowned. "He's paid a pretty heavy price. You said you saw what Hijack did."

"I'm not asking you to abandon your empathy, Master Richard, but you cannot allow it to be used to manipulate you either."

Robin raked a hand through his hair. "Even if everything works out and Slade goes to Blackgate—how long until he gets free again? What if he just kills everyone in retaliation? It'd be my fault, Alfred. I have to get him away from them, and from you."

Alfred wasn't having it. "Can't you see that this is precisely how he wants you to feel? You were raised to fight, and you must keep on fighting. Besides, I can promise you this—should you choose to give in, your friends will not. I will not, and Batman most certainly will not. Surely, young sir, you must have more faith in us than this? You must know we've never stopped in our efforts to bring you home."

"Of course, I do. I just keep looking for a solution, but I can't think of something I'm sure Slade doesn't already have a contingency plan for. And I don't want anything bad to happen when I can stop it this time." Robin took of his mask in frustration and brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. "The Joker told me things. Even though I knew he was lying, I still can't get the things he described out of my head. If any of it ever came true. I don't..."

Alfred encircled an arm around his shoulders and Robin squeezed his eyes shut; trying to stop himself from losing his composure. Weeks of torture and stress threatened to overwhelm him. He ground his teeth together to keep back the hurt squeezing his heart and throat as memories and fears rolled through his mind. Joker torturing him. Hijack's crushing weight. Slade letting the probes burn him alive. Harley's cries of pain mingled with the crowbar striking her body.

"We must have faith in our friends," Alfred encouraged. "For now, we must keep our own eyes and ears to the ground so that we may help them should the opportunity arise."

Robin's racing thoughts grew still at the quiet confidence in Alfred's voice. To Robin, Alfred's thin arm felt like a titanium shield, and for a moment, he pretended they were both safe and at home. Then he took a deep breath and used both hands to dry his face. Straightening in his seat, Robin replaced his mask.

He cleared his throat. "You're right. I'm sor—"

"Please, no more apologizing," Alfred admonished gently. "You're hardly to blame for any of this. You have to keep your wits about you. There's no time to wallow in self-blame or pity when survival is the game you're playing."


Outside, Slade listened through his handheld device and a receiver he'd planted in the car. The conversation had turned to Alfred catching Robin up on Batman and the Titans' current misadventures, or at least, their situation the last the butler was aware.

Satisfied the boy was no longer at risk of falling apart in the backseat, Slade nevertheless studied his map of LexCorp a few more minutes before putting away his handheld device and approaching the car. By the time he opened Alfred's door, Robin's masked glare was ready to meet him from the other side of the butler.

"I assume you've driven to LexCorp before," Slade said to Alfred.

Alfred slipped into the driver's seat with keys in hand as Slade joined Robin in the back. Seconds later, the car turned to leave the shipment yard.


Several blocks away and seventy-three stories high, Lex Luthor led his guest up to a floor to ceiling observation window. Inside was a creature he despised more than anything on the planet, and yet Luthor smiled.

"As you can see, his body has absorbed the room's artificial red sunlight," Luthor explained, "rendering him no more stronger than an ordinary human with his muscular build."

"I suppose that justifies the manacles," the Diplomat replied; noting the heavy chains around Superman's wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. Each thick band of promethean-laced titanium kept the Kryptonian pinned to the back wall of his cell.

Luthor gestured to an adjoining room that was visible through its glass door. Inside, several people in white coats sat at a panel full of computers. "My scientists monitor the levels of red sunlight we have pouring into the room to make sure it's the perfect amount to keep him subdued."

The Diplomat smirked at the grimace he could see on Superman's face. "And enough to make him suffer?"

Luthor scoffed. "Trust me, he hasn't even begun to suffer. Superman's been a thorn twisting in my foot for years. I admit, he's not very impressive in this state, but if I signaled to turn off the red sunlight, you'd eventually see one very angry alien. Even without his powers, he'd be a tough foe."

Luthor thoughtfully stroked his jaw as he turned to his guest. "I'm curious, Mr. Kanto, what would you do with him?"

"Please, Kanto alone is fine," the Diplomat said as if embarrassed. "Our scientists wish to study him. We became aware some time ago that beings like your Superman here are occurring with increasing frequency in this particular corner of the universe. While the world that bore him is gone, we'd still relish the opportunity to get a better understanding of his kind."

Luthor nodded. "And… when you're finished studying him?"

"I'm afraid a return would be impossible. Our study would inevitably conclude with a full dissection."

Luthor considered a massive painting of Metropolis hanging at the end of the hall, opposite from the room full of scientists. He'd commissioned it years ago long before the metahuman crisis truly came to fruition and upstart aliens began waltzing the Earth unchecked.

"I wonder," Luthor said, "if your view of Kryptonians extends to other lifeforms—like the natural-born people of this planet. Are we equally as disposable?"

Kanto laughed with mirth. "Oh, of course not! You misunderstand. We don't destroy him out of malice—only to learn. It is an opportunity we shall never get again once this magnificent being dies. Through our investigation, both he and his kind will be immortalized in our libraries. As for your beautiful blue gem of a world, my king is much enamored by human potential and highly anticipates the day he will get to know humankind on a personal level. As I've showcased throughout our contacts, we have much knowledge to share with you and exchange."

An alert came through Luthor's smart-watch. He flashed Kanto an apologetic smile. "That you have. Once again, it's been a pleasure. I'm afraid I have long-expected company. I'm so glad I finally got this opportunity to share some of our technology with you for a change; however, I'll need to think this bargain you propose over. I'll have a final decision by sunrise."

With a slight bow and a pleased smile, the Diplomat opened a blinding portal of light. It appeared like a tunnel of shimmering spiderwebs. He walked through; disappearing. The portal disappeared with him.

The sound of the portal opening and closing left Luthor's ears ringing. It always did.


1) Kanto/the Diplomat is borrowed from Superman: The Animated Series.