Part 4

The not-very-grand finale. I don't know, everything just sort of . . . flopped into place without much excitement. Ah well. Apologies for the weird html crud left in the first two parts; I will be having "words" with Clarisworks.



"Wait . . . wait . . . two seconds . . . now he's late!" Kon cried triumphantly, tapping his watch. "I've got him this time!"
"Give it up, Kon." Cassie mumbled, head resting on her folded arms as she slumped over the table. "He's allowed to be late once in his life, isn't he?"
"Not if he wants to pretend he's perfect," Kon said, sitting back and folding his arms smugly.
The most recent meeting of Young Justice was not going well. For one thing, Robin was late - and even though Cassie had tried to get the meeting going, without Robin's scowling presence they couldn't stay on subject for five minutes. They had already run through who got cola down the keyboard, Wendy the werewolf stalker, why Pokemon was better then Digimon and vice versa, how they were going to smuggle Secret into the concert the girls were attending next week and why Bart couldn't keep a pet lizard in the cave.
A beeping made them all jump. "What's that?" Cassie said guardedly.
"Dunno," Bart said dully, still sulking over the lizard issue.
"Uck, this is so much easier when Robin's here," Cassie muttered, moving to the computer and staring at it in perplexion. "Where is he?"
"I hope nothing's happened to him," Secret murmured.
"Not yet, I'm afraid. Give me time."
Everyone went rigid and then bounded from their chairs, trying to locate the voice in the darkness. "The disturbance, I believe, was caused by my tripping of one of your security systems." the voice continued, low and calm.
"Who are you?" Kon said darkly, fists clenched. Voices-from-the-shadows was Robin's gig, not theirs. They didn't know how to deal with it.
"My name, as far as you need be concerned, is the King Snake . . ."

* * *

Here's your question of the week; why did five masked "ninjas" attack me for no good reason and then book it? It wasn't even proper attacking. I don't even have a bruise. They just seemed to want to make me late for the stupid YJ meeting. Huh. Maybe Kon hired them.
I'm not that late, not that it'll make any difference. Maybe five minutes. But if it was one second Kon would still never let me forget it. I'm feeling cranky tonight, anyway. Got into a minor prank war with Dick, which is why his skull is now mounted on a stake in my room. I mean, what kind of mature person does a thing like balance a bucket of flour over a doorway? Anyway, I put itching powder down his boots so I'll get my revenge in a little while.
Hey, I have an excuse. I'm the younger one. I'm not meant to be mature.
Happy Harbor's silent when I eventually arrive. But I can tell something's wrong instantly, and I sprint the entire distance from my car to the meeting hall where-
- where I stop, stunned, in the doorway.
Bart's sitting on the floor in front of Sir Edmund, clutching his face, a thin stream of blood running down his chin. The others have him surrounded but look just as horrified. No-one could clock Bart. How could they? You can't punch something you can't see . . .
For some reason, this makes my blood boil.
It's not right that he beats up on Bart. He's not stupid but he likes things to be simple, and I can see him even now trying to work out what just happened, trembling slightly with pain and fear. Bart's not used to anyone being able to keep up with him. And he does look just like a kicked puppy when something unexpected happens.
I march up and stand between Impulse, who's beginning to get up, and King Snake, who's sporting a pair of dark glasses. I can hardly breathe with anger. He doesn't have any right to be here. King Snake's a Robin problem, not a Young Justice problem. He doesn't have any right to make their lives a misery as well.
"Very impressive, Sir Edmund." I say, and even I'm surprised at how cold my voice comes out, quivering slightly with rage. "Have you ever fought anyone even half your age?"
His gaze shifts to me even though he can't see me. I still stare straight at him, frozen with fury. "Ah. The boy. I've been waiting for you. I trust you had a pleasant night?"
My eyes narrow. He sent them, those crummy ninjas, to hold me off. Did he mean to kill Young Justice while I was away? Why can't he just leave me alone? "What are you doing here, Sir Edmund?"
"Rob," Kon says, and when I glance at him I can see he's got a black eye. I pause. But then, if Batgirl can hit him King Snake shouldn't have any problem. "What the heck is the deal with this guy?"
"His name," I say, backing up slightly so Impulse has to walk back with me and away from King Snake, "is Sir Edmund Dorrance." The man who wouldn't die, I add in the privacy of my own mind. Not killing is all well and good, but if anyone deserves it, it's Sir Edmund. "I don't know why he's here."
"I should have thought that much was obvious even to you, boy. I've come to kill you."
I've now got Bart backed to the doorway, out of harm's way. "Wonder Girl, get Impulse to the medlab. Secret, Superboy . . . over here for a second."
It takes only a second of manoeuvering to get them both into the doorway, and then I hit the closing mechanism. I just catch Kon's yell of, "Robi-!" before the door bangs down.
The intercom spits at me. "Robin, what the hell are you doing?"
I draw out my bo staff and turn to face Sir Edmund, who's taken a small bottle from his pocket. "You'll thank me in the morning when you aren't waking up in traction," I mutter.
Sir Edmund shrugs off his jacket and I take a cautious step towards him. Haven't faced anyone near his league since the disaster at spring break. Didn't even know he was alive, but apparently he's fine and still fast enough to give Bart a nosebleed and Kon a black eye. He holds up the small glass bottle and I stare at the liquid inside, trying to remember where I've seen it before. It hits me a little like a ton of bricks.
"Do you know what's in this phial, Robin?"
I can't seem to take my eyes off it. "I can make an educated guess," I say softly.
I'm positive now. It's spitting cobra venom, the stuff that - well - you know.
As if he can read my mind, Sir Edmund reaches up and discards his glasses and I feel faint for a second, but hold it. His eyesockets are dark and empty, ugly-looking burnt skin blistered around them, from where that innocent looking liquid scalded his eyes clean out of his head. I swallow.
He puts the bottle gently onto the edge of the table. "I consider it a fitting repayment . . ." he says, and moves into a fighting stance.
So it's obvious what I have to do if I don't want my eyes dissolving. Win.

* * *

"What's happening?" Secret wailed, running her hands over the door but finding no crack. Kon had hammered on it for a while but they had been rebuilt, since the last time, so much stronger.
"What the hell does Rob think he's doing?" Kon snarled, slamming his hands into the metal one more time. "That guy'll have him for lunch!"
Cassie appeared again, a very subdued Impulse in tow, a plaster stuck across the bridge of his nose. She stared at the door for a second and then said, "Hold down the intercom button."
They stared at the door and simmered at the simplicity of it, and then Kon pushed the button.
A scratch of static and then Robin's distorted voice, very quiet. "I can make an educated guess."
There was a long pause, a tiny tap, and then the voice of King Snake. "I consider it a fitting repayment . . ."
"He's going to kill Robin," Secret whispered faintly.
"Why'd he lock us out here if he knows that guy's bad news?"
"Because," Cassie said quietly, "he knows we don't stand a chance against him either. Y'know what? We should call Batman."
"You're kidding." Kon said. "We can't let the JLA think we need to run to them every time something challenging turns up!"
A sound broke the conversation and they winced; a short grunt of pain. They couldn't tell who it had come from. Let Robin be okay, Secret thought, hands clamped over her mouth.
"One to you, then . . . boy."
"Robin hit him?" Kon said blankly.
"He's better than you give him credit for," Secret muttered.
"I could vibrate through," Bart said, putting his hands on the door.
"No," Cassie said, staring at the intercom. "I think Robin put us here so there'd be no distractions . . ."

* * *

Feeling a little light-headed as the adrenaline rush wears down, but I seem to be holding up okay. I hope one of them had the sense to fetch help. I can maybe hold him off, but there's not much chance of me winning this . . .
But I have to. Have to. I can't let him - he wouldn't. He couldn't, surely? You just could not do that to another human being . . .
Could he?

* * *

This time the yelp was Robin's; they recognised it instantly and Secret gave a low moan of anguish. She looked around quickly and her eyes settled on an airvent.
"I'm going in," she said firmly, and breezed through it before anyone could begin to argue.

* * *

The kick came from nowhere. Caught the side of my face. Stings. I stumble for a second but don't have time to step aside or fall; a fist clamps around my throat and that's it. Can't breathe.
I force my eyes open and there's Sir Edmund, grinning at me. Can't believe this. I have to get out of it.
I kick and struggle and try to twist his hand off but nothing works, nothing. He's walking but I don't know where. He always was a lot taller than me and he's holding me almost over his head. Feet don't even touch the ground. Vision blurring and eyes watering. If I don't get a breath in soon I won't even have to worry about the cobra venom and whatever he plans for it.
Hand on my face, trying to reach my mask. I kick the struggling up a notch, too blind with terror now to realise he can't see my face. Strike something so hard whatever oxygen was left in my lungs is forced out with a breathless yelp. Takes me a second to realise he's slammed me into a wall so hard I pass out for a second. I go completely limp, unable to breathe, to see -
The mask falls to the floor. Seeing everything in burning fluorescence from lack of air. The neon-shadow of a hand sears across my vision, reaches for the bottle. He is. He's going to - oh God, no, no-
"-no-"
 I don't know where the word comes from. I don't have the breath to expel it, surely? But the hand slackens; air floods into my lungs so quickly it burns them but I don't care, choke it down as fast as I can.
Sir Edmund's face swims slowly back into view. "Go on, boy. I'd like to hear you beg before you die."
Oh God, what am I going to do? This must be some sort of sick joke; you cannot knowingly do that to another person, you can't - oh God, he's got the bottle, he's uncorked it-
I manage a whisper. . . . sicko . . ."
He smirks, holds the bottle up to the light. "Ah, the supreme arrogance of youth. It's nothing less painful than you've ever caused me."
I try to pull my head back, still held fast. Don't care about being able to breathe. Don't let him do it. "Wasn't . . . my fault and you . . . you know it -"
"I beg to differ."
The hand squeezes for a second. Eyes water so hard my vision blurs again and I make a strangled noise. "Everything was going smoothly until you turned up again . . . after I've seen you scream I still won't kill you, you despicable little brat . . . I'm glad you trapped your friends out. It gives me plenty of time to make you suffer. I'm afraid they might find rather a mess when they do get in . . ."
From a million miles away, I hear the door shiver as Kon and Cassie pound it, screaming. Head lolls. I find the strength for one last word - my epitaph, I suppose.
" . . . jerk."
He raises the bottle and I screw my eyes shut but it's no help. I know I'm doomed.
And then -
A roar like the surf and something strikes Sir Edmund hard in the side. He doesn't let go of me but I see the bottle go flying and manage to choke out some warning. Can't let anyone walk into it. We both crash onto the floor but now, now I have some traction. While he's disorientated I grab the arm fastened around my neck and flip him over.
It's like being born again, the joy of breathing. One hand over my aching throat, I search with the other for the mask and someone hands it to me. I pull it on thankfully. The pool of cobra venom lays innocently on the floor like a puddle of spilt lemonade. "No-one touch it," I say, surprised at how calm I sound.
The only person I can see is Bart, who must have vibrated through the door. I turn around and Sir Edmund's convulsing on the floor. I take a step back. "What's-"
"Secret?" Bart says, puzzled.
"Secret!" I stare down at them. "Secret, pull out of him! You're going to kill him!"
Her voice seems to come from all around, not inside King Snake. "Didn't you hear what he was going to do to you? He deserves worse than I can give him."
"Yes," I say slowly, because I can hardly help but agree. "But we're not the ones to decide that, Secret."
She pauses as if confused, and then, "What would it matter that a worm like this died? Who has he ever helped? He deserves it!"
I have to stop her. This isn't right, how can I make her see it? "Secret, [please]. Leave him alone. You can't just murder him. We're not above the law, Secret, we're part of it. Leave Sir Edmund alone."
There's a pause in which I pray silently, and then dust-coloured smoke emerges from his gaping mouth and Secret reforms, flushed with fury but looking slightly shamefaced. "Impulse, open the door, please." I say quietly. Now no-one's close to death, my gaze fixes on the pool of venom, shining under the lights. It doesn't look like it could hurt anything. I wonder how we're going to clean it up in a strangely detached manner, but all the while the thought nags at the back of my mind that it almost - almost - dissolved my eyes.
The final two come in at a roaring pace and slow to a halt almost instantly as they see that it's over. Cassie looks relieved, but Kon's still jumpy. He sees the venom and pauses and I say quickly, "Don't touch it. I need to think how to dispose of it safely."
Sir Edmund's staggering to his feet, leaning on the wall. I look at him and sigh. "Aren't you going to, y'know, stop him?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow.
I feel very tired all of a sudden. "No," I say wearily, sitting at the table and rubbing my neck, grimacing. "There's no point, Kon."
He gives me an incredulous look. "The point is generally that you don't let someone who just tried to kill you in a really unpleasant way escape."
"Here's a thought, Kon." I mutter bitterly. "Sometimes the bad guy wins. There's no point because - well, what evidence do we have? Nothing he couldn't "arrange" rid of. He's a powerful man, Kon. Even if we got Superman to vouch for us it wouldn't mean anything. Money can buy you out of most things. Anyway, Robin doesn't exist, remember? You can't try to kill an urban legend."
He sits down. "You're really letting him go?"
I can't see Sir Edmund any more, but I can hear him hobbling out of the cave. I wonder what it feels like, Secret giving you a total mental shut-down. Not nice, I'd bet.
"Yes."
Bart appears at my shoulder. The plaster over his nose makes him look, not to put too fine a point on it, utterly ridiculous. I try not to smile. "What did he mean when he said [you] did something to [him]?"
"Yeah," Kon said. "When he - his eyes were all - urgh, I mean, Rob, you didn't - surely? Not our great moral leader?"
I can feel myself going red. "It wasn't my fault," I say quickly. "I tried to warn him. No-one should have to- God, I'd never have let it happen if I could have stopped it."
"So what did happen?"
I squirm slightly. I'm not going to enjoy explaining this. "That puddle down there - Bart, don't touch it! - it's spitting cobra venom. It dissolves cell membranes. He got some in his eyes when we were fighting . . . he blames me for it."
"That's what he was going to do with it . . ."
I look at the table. I don't want to think about getting that stuff poured into my eyes and somehow, the others thinking about it makes me feel really uncomfortable.
"How did you get mixed up with a guy like that?"
"Oh, we go way back." I glare at the shimmering pool of venom. "Right back when he tried to unleash the black death back into the world and killed one of my friends. Ever since then we've pretty much always been bumping into each other. Bumping very hard, in most cases."
I try not to think about Clyde Rawlins much. It wasn't fair he died, but he didn't have much of a life as it was - his family dead, his entire existence based on revenge. It's not a happy way to live.
"Robin," Cassie says, "what happened?"
I sigh. "This is going to be a long story," I tell them quietly.
"We've got time."

* * *

They listened in a sort of fascinated horror. Robin glossed over the story, making it as short as possible. He didn't look at them but hunched in the chair and stared at the table and spoke in a dull, emotionless voice.
He told them about the first meeting, and the fight, and Sir Edmund falling from the window. He skipped most of their clashes, because he didn't want to share some things with them - like Ariana.
"A while ago," he said quietly, "when I fell off the cliff . . . a friend of mine had been kidnapped by Kobra. You remember them," he looked quickly to Bart and Kon and then back to the table. "So I followed them to the himalayas and climbed after them. Inside . . . I didn't know he was involved. But he used my friend to open a Lazarus pit. That's like a big toxic bath that heals all wounds and lets you live forever. And when he came out -"
He shook his head for a se to his eyes - and I really, really tried to warn him." He seemed desperate to make this point. "No-one should have to live through that."
"Painful?" Kon asked.
Robin nodded slowly. "You could say that." he said carefully.
Robin didn't exaggerate. They glanced at one another.
"I grabbed my friend and we tried to get out. Found our way out of Kobra but found ourselves stuck on a cliff edge - and that was when Sir Edmund grabbed me from behind - and then we got caught off-guard by an avalanche and when I woke up I was the only one there. With about two unbroken bones in my whole body. So I tried to walk it.
Cassie stared at him. Wh- how far did you expect to get?
He shrugged. Nowhere, really. I thought I was done for anyway . . . I was just killing time until the cold got me. Just before I passed out, three kilometres later, Batman found me. And you saw what happened later. And that brings us to now."
"So . . ." Cassie paused. "So he wants revenge?"
He nodded glumly. "In as messy a way as possible. He's not scared of Batman and he's definitely not scared of me."

* * *

Kon's staring at me in a really weird way. "What?" I say eventually.
He pulls a face. "It's just - well, in the nicest way possible, you've beaten him? He nearly broke Bart's nose!"
Bart makes a snorting sound. "It didn't hurt that much. And he gave you a black eye."
I don't have the patience for this right now. "You don't need to be able to fly and break things to do something hard, Kon. Me and the rest of the human race manage just fine. And yes, I beat him. Barely, but I managed."
He scowls. "There's no need to get mad about it."
"You think this is mad?" I snap. "You wait 'til I have to tell Batman this happened. He's going to go postal. I'll probably never see the light of day again."
I stand up, pushing my chair back. "I'm going home," I mutter, and stalk out.
I pause in the entrance to the cave and lean against the wall for a moment. It's dark now - the sun was setting when I arrived. The sky's a high, royal blue, and I follow the stars until I find North and get my bearings to see Gotham on the lighted filigree of the horizon. So many cities, but mine's easy to spot, the biggest and most brightly lit of the lot. From a distance, it's beautiful.
It's not mine, though. It's his. Bruce's. He knows it better than the city planners did. But now it's been rebuilt . . .
The soul of Gotham hasn't changed, though. It's just as dirty and seedy as before, only now it's dirty and seedy in nice, new buildings. I stare at it with narrowed eyes and wonder what my life would be like if I had been brought up in Keystone, or Metropolis. I'd still have both parents. I wouldn't be Robin. I wouldn't know who King Snake was. I wouldn't-
"Robin?"
I turn slightly. It's Secret, hands behind her back, looking very nervous. She looks at the floor.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For - stopping me. I don't really want to kill anyone. It was just -"
She stares at me for a long moment. "Would he really - put that in your eyes?"
I look back at the dancing light of the cities. "You don't know the half of it," I mutter. I'd like to know what "marrow" means, because he'd like to do that to me as well. It's not the sort of thing you can ask Bruce about, because he'd only worry. Maybe I could find it on the Internet. Just hope they don't have diagrams.
I must have been lost in thought for a while, but eventually Secret says quietly, They're beautiful, aren't they? The stars?
I look up again. There aren't many stars over Gotham; the city lights block out most of them. And they are bautiful, I suppose, when you look for the stars and not the constellations. My stomach tightens when I think of Sir Edmund, because it must be the greatest shame in the world that some people can't appreciate how perfect they are.
"Yes," I say quietly. "They really are."
I don't know how long we stood there like idiots, hypnotised by the sky, but eventually I shake my head and say, "I really have to get back to Gotham, Secret. Thanks for all your help."
She smiles and I head to the car, but carefully, because I still don't know if Sir Edmund's out here. Big jerk. I glance up at the stars again. I don't do this often, so I hope they listen - because I really, really wish, one way or another, I get some closure on this issue soon, before it drives me to an early grave . . .