Wind and the Snow Part IV
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies: the characters portrayed herein belong, with the exception of my original characters, to DC, Warner Bros, and whoever else. Not me. I am making no profit from this fic, now or ever. Don't bother suing, it'd be a waste of time and money.
Author's Notes: Sorry this part took so long. I got a bit sidetracked (always lots of fun). This part was written largely with track 3 from Second Donut Happy Pack on repeat. The first chunk penned (typed?) before I'd seen the requisite episode, the second bit after. You Have Been Warned.
2. A very big 'thank you' to the reader who pointed out that part IV hadn't loaded properly. My humble apologies. Due to some technical difficulties, I am uploading this part in text format. When The html thing gets sorted, I'll reload, but until then I ask for your tolerance.
3. *..* = emphasis, ** . . .** = thoughts
********
"Gone?"
"Yes, sir. He wasn't in his room or anywhere on the grounds."
The Demon paced. His followers shivered.
Creating a decent team of suitably fanatical henchmen took time. And resources. Further, said henchmen's intelligence and abilities tended to be directly proportional to the amounts of both time and resources expended upon them. Having lived for centuries, Ra's Al Ghul was too prudent, too experienced, to wantonly destroy the highly skilled followers he'd assembled. At least, not at the moment. At the moment he was as close to sane as he ever really got. He'd not used the Lazarus pit for a while, was not due to return to it for some time. So, his people were safe from the mindless carnage that typically followed a dip in the pit.
But that didn't mean they could relax, either. The mass destruction could be conducted just as efficiently with the Demon in a 'sane' frame of mind. And given how displeased he was with the news they'd brought, it was not an unforeseeable outcome of the evening. That they still breathed now was due, they knew, to the fact that they'd obtained one of the two targets. But the other, equally desired, had eluded them by the simple virtue of not being present. Hence the Demon's displeasure. So they shivered, and hoped that he would recall that for all their skills in the area, it was still impossible to abduct someone who wasn't anywhere near where they were meant to be. Hoped he would recall the fact, hoped he would accept it.
And thought desperately of other ways to please their pacing master.
The Demon spoke, as much to himself as to anyone present. "We have the other, though. That will be enough." He paused, "for the time being, at least." Turning, his attention shifted away from the kidnappers. As that group relaxed slightly, the one next to it tensed. Ra's Al Ghul's scientists, though more highly prized than his "acquisitions" team, were nonetheless acutely aware that they, too, were replaceable. It was all a matter of resources. Resources and time. Both of which, they well knew, the Demon had in abundance. It was patience that was occasionally in short supply.
"Report."
"The data you obtained - I don't know how you got it, but it's amazing! Why, it's a whole personality! We can indeed implant it in to the . . . ah . . . subject you acquired. Except. . . ah . . ."
Ra's Al Ghul raised one fletched eyebrow and the scientist stuttered into silence.
"Except?"
Staring at his Master, the scientist who had spoken drew a deep breath, wishing he'd never even *thought* of pursuing a career in neurophysiology.
"We, ah, we don't know what he did!" The words came in a blurted rush, "I mean, we know what he did, we know he erased very specific memories and other parts of his subjects' minds and then implanted new personalities and skills, but we don't know how. We don't even know what technology he used to do it. We, ah, we can't replicate it. Well, not precisely anyway." His run of words petered out, and he trembled under the Demon's baleful glare.
"But. . . but. . . what we *can* do is a bit similar, though a lot cruder. We can induce an amnesia in the subject. It'll be total. No 'retained useful bits of information' like the Doctor had. After that bit, though, we can overlay the new memory, the one mapped in the computer programme. It won't be a perfect replica of this 'eighteen' character, but it'll be pretty close. Near as we can tell, the memory map we have anyway is of the last stage prior to the finished product, so not the . . . ah . . . planned end-personality itself anyway. Because the subject that was obtained from the two candidates considered is quite a martial artist anyway, hopefully it'll still work out more or less equally."
"How long will the amnesia hold?"
"We . . . ah . . . we aren't completely sure. We'll try for permanency, but even if we don't get that far, it'll certainly be long enough for us to figure out how the Doctor did . . . what he did." **At least, I fervently hope so,** the scientist thought, using all his discipline not to wipe suddenly clammy hands on his pants. "Then, we'll implement what we've learned on the second subject, whom we will hopefully have by that time." The ploy was as much an attempt to deflect Ra's Al Ghul's displeasure back to the acquisitions team as it was to convey scientific practice. **In truth, I doubt we'll be able to replicate the Doctor's technology. It'll be downright miraculous if we have some means of doing even part of it. It'd also be downright suicidal to tell him that, though.** In front of him, the Demon's pacing ceased.
"When can you have the subject ready?" His voice brooked no mercy. Though not precisely rhetorical, to this question there was only one correct answer, and it was 'soon'.
"In . . . ah . . . in twenty four hours or so. The upshot of this way of doing things; because it's cruder, it doesn't take anywhere near as long." The scientist held his breath; one way or another, his master's next words would seal his fate.
"Very well. You have twenty-four hours." A nervous bow, and the thin, weedy man blended back into the group of now relieved scientists.
After the debriefing, Ra's Al Ghul strode down the shadowy corridors of his headquarters. Lost in thought, he nonetheless noticed when a gait as familiar as his own fell into step beside him. Looking over, a rare tolerant smile graced his lips as he regarded his daughter.
"You have news?"
"An update. We still have not found the missing Twenty, Father. However, we have narrowed the search considerably; after finishing the neuronal implants and reprogramming, the Doctor decided to test his prize."
"An assassination?"
"An attempt. To make a statement the Doctor chose a . . . truly remarkable target. He sent Twenty to Gotham."
"The Detective. However he yet lives."
"Precisely. So either the attempt failed, or the assassin has not yet tried."
"We will find Twenty in Gotham."
"I have teams of men there already, Father. Searching." **And I pray I find him before he kills you, beloved. Because, as this data makes abundantly clear to me, kill you he certainly can.**
**************
ELSEWHERE
On reflection, Nightwing decided, having the Young Justice reunion at Titan's Tower had been a spectacularly bad idea.
He'd thought the place to be ideal; Robin and the others had been there only rarely, so his little brother wouldn't feel too threatened by unfamiliarity in an environment obviously comfortable to the rest of his team (it was unlikely, Nightwing felt, that Robin remembered much of the Justice Cave). Further, the tower was pretty much neutral turf and, as it's resident hero team largely lived elsewhere, it would be only skeletally staffed at the time, and even then by the more . . . understanding members of the Titan's team, Donna and Roy, allowing the teens plenty of space to run wild. Which, unfortunately, was exactly what Robin had done.
**At the very least,** Nightwing berated himself, **I should have made sure Robin actually remembered something of the Titans we were likely to meet. Before he put a batarang into Troia's wrist and a fist into Arsenal's face.** In between attempting to explain the situation to an irate Arsenal, Nightwing mentally tried to put a positive spin on the incident; **at least I have Robin's assurance Donna'll get full sensation back. Eventually. It occurs to me, however, that he didn't retract the death threat. Hn. That worries me.**
**Dammit, I should have checked what he knew about the Titans! He didn't even remember Young Justice, and the Crays files aren't as great on people's personality quirks as they are on just superpower inventories, so the assumption was an unforgivable oversight!**
Had the former boy wonder been honest with himself - and fully conversant with the facts of the situation - he'd have realised that oversight or not, it likely would have happened anyway.
****************
SOMEWHAT EARLIER THAT DAY
They'd arrived, in costume (after a pit stop at a certain Bludhaven apartment), to quite the welcoming committee. Robin, seated next to him on the boat across to the tower, hadn't seemed nervous, but neither had he looked excited. **All part of the 'programming', I guess. Learning how to squish your feelings utterly. I've seen him show little emotion since he returned. Even Batman could almost take stoicism lessons from him now. Damn you, Doctor! I want my little brother back, whole and well!** As they approached the shore, Nightwing got ready to disembark, Robin following his lead. **Well, I guess that's what this meeting is really for,** he thought. **To help 'little brother' heal. If it works, I'll buy Superboy every season of Wendy Werewolf Stalker on DVD, and count it a cheap price to pay.** Thoughts of his co-conspirator were interrupted as the boat docked at the jetty.
Stepping off the boat, they were greeted by a moderately sized group, lead by the aforementioned co-conspirator in organising the reunion, a beaming Superboy. Close behind him, with a grin equally as wide, was a mist-girl Nightwing tried pointedly to ignore. **If nobody officially sees her, then she isn't here, and the DEO can't hassle either her or the Titans.** Bouncing around so rapidly that there appeared to be six of him was Impulse, and near to him Empress and Wondergirl. The current Olympic archer and former Arrowette would be waiting inside the tower, as Nightwing understood it, to protect her former identity from the prying eyes of any unexpected visitors.
**Moment Of Truth time!** Nightwing held his breath, **I sure hope this works!** Robin strode to a standstill beside him, his face expressionless. Obviously unsure of themselves in the face of their leader's impassivity, the rest of Young Justice paused, waiting to see who would break the stalemate.
Then, a small smile cracked Robin's features, and he extended a hand to Superboy.
"Hi," he said, simply. Superboy took the hand to shake it, and then unexpectedly pulled the Boy Wonder into a fierce embrace.
"Welcome back, Rob. We missed ya!"
As if that was the catalyst, everyone started talking at once, crowding around the Boy Wonder in an oversized group hug.
"you'rebackyou'rebackyou'reback!Wheredidyougowithoutus?huhuhuhuhuh?
Wemissedyou!it'ssogoodtoseeyouandnowwecanhavearealteamagainandit'llbesomuchfunandandand. . ."
"Robin! I'm so glad you're safe! I was so worried -"
"- thought we'd, like, lost you for good -"
"- couldn't find you anywhere, even using vooduin -"
"lookedandlookedandlookedalloverwellexceptGothamcozweknewyoucouldn'tbetherewithoutBatmanfindingyou. . . "
"- didn't tell us! We weren't even like totally sure you were missing until -"
"- promised I wouldn't be evil if you'd just come back -"
As the confused babble of voices washed over him, Robin searched desperately for any trace of memory of these people. Nothing was forthcoming. The Doctor did his job well, Robin thought bitterly, as his mind turned up only the dry words of the Crays files. Name: Superboy. Secret Identity: Kon-el. Base of Operations: Hawaii. Powers: tactile telekinesis. Weaknesses: Kryptonite. Name: Wondergirl. Secret Identity . . . .The listings went on.
He could recognise all of them, with the exception of the mist girl. But the ID photos on file bore only a superficial likeness to the people before him. They could do little more, really; a static shot would never contain the restless, enthusiastic energy of Impulse, the sparkling happiness and dramatic gestures of Superboy, or the leonine grace of Empress.
His mind tracked back to the mist girl. There was no spark of recognition in him at all. **Not even a Crays file on her. Surprising.** Turning to her, he opened his mouth to speak, acutely aware of how the others all hushed. Well, except Impulse.
"The others I recognise from their files, but who are you?"
Even Impulse shut up at that one. The silence was absolute, and deafening after the babble of mere seconds before. Of all the things Young Justice had expected to hear fall from their newly-returned leader's lips, this was *not* one them. Secret's sudden hiccoughing sobs broke the quiet.
"You . . . You don't remember her? And what's this about files? Hold on - do you, like, even remember the rest of us?" The pain in Wondergirl's voice was evident, as was the fact she, too, was biting back tears.
Superboy and Nightwing spoke, for the first time in their lives, almost simultaneously.
"Come on, let's get inside and discuss this properly."
It was a good idea, unfortunately they never quite got that far.
From their vantage points at the base of the tower, Donna and Roy - Troia and Arsenal - watched the happy-looking group. As the group hug finally broke up, Troia turned to her ex-lover and smilingly nudged him along with her.
"Come on," she laughed, "let's go say 'hi' before we leave them alone to trash - and then frantically clean up - the place!"
Laughing indulgently, Arsenal followed her lead and the two strolled down the gentle slope to the jetty.
They, too, never quite got that far.
The arrival of the two visitors was sudden. One moment there were only the two groups on the island, the next instant - quite literally - a third had arrived midway between the two others.
This group consisted of only two figures, male and female. Tall, long-haired and lithe, their stances were utterly non-threatening. It was obvious, also from the way they moved, that while they were no strangers to battle, it was not on their current agenda. With a resounding war cry, Troia charged them.
"Demon!" She yowled, her Olympus given senses shrilling the alarm. Of the two figures, one was definitely a hated resident from the Demon Planes, the other . . .
The other she couldn't tell. But it had come with the demon and so must, she decided, be in league with it. **Demons. I hate Demons!** Taking his cue from her, Arsenal raced after her, knocking an arrow to his bow as he ran. Taking careful aim despite moving at a sprint, he raised the bow to sight on the darker-haired of his opponents . . .
Only to run face-first into a green-gloved fist coming the other way.
Nobody had seen him move. Not even Impulse (who, to be honest, hadn't really been paying attention). He simply was suddenly there, kayoing Arsenal and then continuing the liquid smooth movement into a spinning leap that landed him in front of the battle-hungry Amazon. As he flipped, Robin flung out a batarang, striking with uncanny precision into the soft gap of flesh just above Troia's gauntlets, numbing the nerve there. Dropping to the ground in shock, she and Arsenal stared at this most unexpected of opponents.
"Robin! He's a demon! Get away from him now!" Troia yelled, distressed.
"No."
"What?!"
"C'mon Troia, looks like we gotta go save the kid from himself!" With that Arsenal hauled himself to his feet, intent on 'saving' his best friend's 'kid brother'. After all, if *Donna* said the two were demons, and attacked straight away, who was he to argue?
He was stopped by a harsh, cawing sound. It took him a moment to identify it as a laugh, and even longer to realise where it was coming from.
Robin's mirthless amusement ceased as abruptly as it had started.
"Save me? Only now? Your hypocrisy makes me sick!" His voice lowered venomously, until it was almost a sibilant whisper. "The two of you had your chance! You could have rescued me, saved both of us! One life, two souls. You chose not to."
"Robin?" it was Donna, trying desperately to make sense of a world gone suddenly crazy. She may have failed in helping people in the past, but this was the first time she'd been accused of lack of trying, and by a fellow hero no less. "Robin, what are you talking about?"
Shocked into speechlessness, Robin could only stare, **she doesn't remember? Kaze's pleas for help meant so little to her that she's already forgotten? I saw Oracle's tape! Kaze all but begged on his knees for their assistance!** Getting no reply except a wounded glare, Donna gamely tried again.
"Robin, please, we can talk this out. But first you have to move away from the Demon! Just let me take him down and we'll talk."
The glare turned vicious, and when Robin spoke it was with a quiet, deadly voice frighteningly reminiscent - to Superboy and Nightwing - of the assassin Vingt.
"If you attempt to harm my master, or his lady, I will see to it you are destroyed so utterly that not even a speedster's memories will save you." There was no threat in his tone. It was, simply, a promise.
Taken aback at the venom in his voice, Troia could only stare as the small figure of Robin turned his back on her and walked over to the demon he had named his master. Off to one side she could hear the sharp intake of breath from Nightwing, as well as his whispered question, " 'Master'?"
It was at that moment that the other members of Young Justice, no longer paralysed by horror and surprise at the unexpected turn of events, chose haphazardly to enter the fray.
They were a moment too late. With a sweep of her arm, the demon's dark-haired companion raised a shimmering dome-like shield, trapping the young heroes on the outside, and Robin within. Fists pounding uselessly on the translucent barrier, Superboy and the others could just make out the three figures within, apparently engaged in conversation. Then the smallest, slightest figure, the one they knew to be Robin, collapsed into the arms of one of the taller ones as the second plunged two fingers through his Kevlar vest and into his chest.
That was when all hell broke loose.
END PART IV. Part V coming soon.
Notes:
1. Wendy Werewolf Stalker is a popular show in the DC-verse, and Superboy's favourite. Gee, I can't think what it could be based on.
2. The speedster Robin refers to is the Flash, from whose memories the current Donna Troy was resurrected.
3. Donna's intense dislike of demons, and even her use of the line "Demons. I hate Demons!" is taken from the Planet DC 2000 Titans annual, titled "Japan's newest son: Bushido"
4. Yep. You guessed it. the shishou is a demon (of sorts) and Kaguya isn't. Further explanation will be forthcoming in the next instalment. (Now that I've laid to rest all those Elf rumours. . .) This is not without precedent in the Batbooks - I refer interested parties to the start of the Brentwood story arc/Robin's first room-mate in the Robin comics.
5. "One life, two souls." Robin is referring to the fact that he is, for want of a better phrase, utterly altered, as was Kaze. The life in question is Kaze's who died in Gotham some time after Troia and Arsenal turned down his request for help. (The fact that he clobbered Arsenal **might** have had a little bit to do with it, but I doubt Robin's thinking along those lines.)
6. The canon line-up of Young Justice has, I know, undergone a number of changes of late. However I'm opting to go with the team that was present when the great betrayal occurred. Minus Lobo, because I can't imagine he'd stick around for eleven months if nothing interesting was happening. (The team's been inactive since shortly after Robin disappeared.)
7. As always, homage is intended, copyright infringement is not. Please C&C.
************
The conversation had indeed been an odd one, though the violence was unexpected.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies: the characters portrayed herein belong, with the exception of my original characters, to DC, Warner Bros, and whoever else. Not me. I am making no profit from this fic, now or ever. Don't bother suing, it'd be a waste of time and money.
Author's Notes: Sorry this part took so long. I got a bit sidetracked (always lots of fun). This part was written largely with track 3 from Second Donut Happy Pack on repeat. The first chunk penned (typed?) before I'd seen the requisite episode, the second bit after. You Have Been Warned.
2. A very big 'thank you' to the reader who pointed out that part IV hadn't loaded properly. My humble apologies. Due to some technical difficulties, I am uploading this part in text format. When The html thing gets sorted, I'll reload, but until then I ask for your tolerance.
3. *..* = emphasis, ** . . .** = thoughts
********
"Gone?"
"Yes, sir. He wasn't in his room or anywhere on the grounds."
The Demon paced. His followers shivered.
Creating a decent team of suitably fanatical henchmen took time. And resources. Further, said henchmen's intelligence and abilities tended to be directly proportional to the amounts of both time and resources expended upon them. Having lived for centuries, Ra's Al Ghul was too prudent, too experienced, to wantonly destroy the highly skilled followers he'd assembled. At least, not at the moment. At the moment he was as close to sane as he ever really got. He'd not used the Lazarus pit for a while, was not due to return to it for some time. So, his people were safe from the mindless carnage that typically followed a dip in the pit.
But that didn't mean they could relax, either. The mass destruction could be conducted just as efficiently with the Demon in a 'sane' frame of mind. And given how displeased he was with the news they'd brought, it was not an unforeseeable outcome of the evening. That they still breathed now was due, they knew, to the fact that they'd obtained one of the two targets. But the other, equally desired, had eluded them by the simple virtue of not being present. Hence the Demon's displeasure. So they shivered, and hoped that he would recall that for all their skills in the area, it was still impossible to abduct someone who wasn't anywhere near where they were meant to be. Hoped he would recall the fact, hoped he would accept it.
And thought desperately of other ways to please their pacing master.
The Demon spoke, as much to himself as to anyone present. "We have the other, though. That will be enough." He paused, "for the time being, at least." Turning, his attention shifted away from the kidnappers. As that group relaxed slightly, the one next to it tensed. Ra's Al Ghul's scientists, though more highly prized than his "acquisitions" team, were nonetheless acutely aware that they, too, were replaceable. It was all a matter of resources. Resources and time. Both of which, they well knew, the Demon had in abundance. It was patience that was occasionally in short supply.
"Report."
"The data you obtained - I don't know how you got it, but it's amazing! Why, it's a whole personality! We can indeed implant it in to the . . . ah . . . subject you acquired. Except. . . ah . . ."
Ra's Al Ghul raised one fletched eyebrow and the scientist stuttered into silence.
"Except?"
Staring at his Master, the scientist who had spoken drew a deep breath, wishing he'd never even *thought* of pursuing a career in neurophysiology.
"We, ah, we don't know what he did!" The words came in a blurted rush, "I mean, we know what he did, we know he erased very specific memories and other parts of his subjects' minds and then implanted new personalities and skills, but we don't know how. We don't even know what technology he used to do it. We, ah, we can't replicate it. Well, not precisely anyway." His run of words petered out, and he trembled under the Demon's baleful glare.
"But. . . but. . . what we *can* do is a bit similar, though a lot cruder. We can induce an amnesia in the subject. It'll be total. No 'retained useful bits of information' like the Doctor had. After that bit, though, we can overlay the new memory, the one mapped in the computer programme. It won't be a perfect replica of this 'eighteen' character, but it'll be pretty close. Near as we can tell, the memory map we have anyway is of the last stage prior to the finished product, so not the . . . ah . . . planned end-personality itself anyway. Because the subject that was obtained from the two candidates considered is quite a martial artist anyway, hopefully it'll still work out more or less equally."
"How long will the amnesia hold?"
"We . . . ah . . . we aren't completely sure. We'll try for permanency, but even if we don't get that far, it'll certainly be long enough for us to figure out how the Doctor did . . . what he did." **At least, I fervently hope so,** the scientist thought, using all his discipline not to wipe suddenly clammy hands on his pants. "Then, we'll implement what we've learned on the second subject, whom we will hopefully have by that time." The ploy was as much an attempt to deflect Ra's Al Ghul's displeasure back to the acquisitions team as it was to convey scientific practice. **In truth, I doubt we'll be able to replicate the Doctor's technology. It'll be downright miraculous if we have some means of doing even part of it. It'd also be downright suicidal to tell him that, though.** In front of him, the Demon's pacing ceased.
"When can you have the subject ready?" His voice brooked no mercy. Though not precisely rhetorical, to this question there was only one correct answer, and it was 'soon'.
"In . . . ah . . . in twenty four hours or so. The upshot of this way of doing things; because it's cruder, it doesn't take anywhere near as long." The scientist held his breath; one way or another, his master's next words would seal his fate.
"Very well. You have twenty-four hours." A nervous bow, and the thin, weedy man blended back into the group of now relieved scientists.
After the debriefing, Ra's Al Ghul strode down the shadowy corridors of his headquarters. Lost in thought, he nonetheless noticed when a gait as familiar as his own fell into step beside him. Looking over, a rare tolerant smile graced his lips as he regarded his daughter.
"You have news?"
"An update. We still have not found the missing Twenty, Father. However, we have narrowed the search considerably; after finishing the neuronal implants and reprogramming, the Doctor decided to test his prize."
"An assassination?"
"An attempt. To make a statement the Doctor chose a . . . truly remarkable target. He sent Twenty to Gotham."
"The Detective. However he yet lives."
"Precisely. So either the attempt failed, or the assassin has not yet tried."
"We will find Twenty in Gotham."
"I have teams of men there already, Father. Searching." **And I pray I find him before he kills you, beloved. Because, as this data makes abundantly clear to me, kill you he certainly can.**
**************
ELSEWHERE
On reflection, Nightwing decided, having the Young Justice reunion at Titan's Tower had been a spectacularly bad idea.
He'd thought the place to be ideal; Robin and the others had been there only rarely, so his little brother wouldn't feel too threatened by unfamiliarity in an environment obviously comfortable to the rest of his team (it was unlikely, Nightwing felt, that Robin remembered much of the Justice Cave). Further, the tower was pretty much neutral turf and, as it's resident hero team largely lived elsewhere, it would be only skeletally staffed at the time, and even then by the more . . . understanding members of the Titan's team, Donna and Roy, allowing the teens plenty of space to run wild. Which, unfortunately, was exactly what Robin had done.
**At the very least,** Nightwing berated himself, **I should have made sure Robin actually remembered something of the Titans we were likely to meet. Before he put a batarang into Troia's wrist and a fist into Arsenal's face.** In between attempting to explain the situation to an irate Arsenal, Nightwing mentally tried to put a positive spin on the incident; **at least I have Robin's assurance Donna'll get full sensation back. Eventually. It occurs to me, however, that he didn't retract the death threat. Hn. That worries me.**
**Dammit, I should have checked what he knew about the Titans! He didn't even remember Young Justice, and the Crays files aren't as great on people's personality quirks as they are on just superpower inventories, so the assumption was an unforgivable oversight!**
Had the former boy wonder been honest with himself - and fully conversant with the facts of the situation - he'd have realised that oversight or not, it likely would have happened anyway.
****************
SOMEWHAT EARLIER THAT DAY
They'd arrived, in costume (after a pit stop at a certain Bludhaven apartment), to quite the welcoming committee. Robin, seated next to him on the boat across to the tower, hadn't seemed nervous, but neither had he looked excited. **All part of the 'programming', I guess. Learning how to squish your feelings utterly. I've seen him show little emotion since he returned. Even Batman could almost take stoicism lessons from him now. Damn you, Doctor! I want my little brother back, whole and well!** As they approached the shore, Nightwing got ready to disembark, Robin following his lead. **Well, I guess that's what this meeting is really for,** he thought. **To help 'little brother' heal. If it works, I'll buy Superboy every season of Wendy Werewolf Stalker on DVD, and count it a cheap price to pay.** Thoughts of his co-conspirator were interrupted as the boat docked at the jetty.
Stepping off the boat, they were greeted by a moderately sized group, lead by the aforementioned co-conspirator in organising the reunion, a beaming Superboy. Close behind him, with a grin equally as wide, was a mist-girl Nightwing tried pointedly to ignore. **If nobody officially sees her, then she isn't here, and the DEO can't hassle either her or the Titans.** Bouncing around so rapidly that there appeared to be six of him was Impulse, and near to him Empress and Wondergirl. The current Olympic archer and former Arrowette would be waiting inside the tower, as Nightwing understood it, to protect her former identity from the prying eyes of any unexpected visitors.
**Moment Of Truth time!** Nightwing held his breath, **I sure hope this works!** Robin strode to a standstill beside him, his face expressionless. Obviously unsure of themselves in the face of their leader's impassivity, the rest of Young Justice paused, waiting to see who would break the stalemate.
Then, a small smile cracked Robin's features, and he extended a hand to Superboy.
"Hi," he said, simply. Superboy took the hand to shake it, and then unexpectedly pulled the Boy Wonder into a fierce embrace.
"Welcome back, Rob. We missed ya!"
As if that was the catalyst, everyone started talking at once, crowding around the Boy Wonder in an oversized group hug.
"you'rebackyou'rebackyou'reback!Wheredidyougowithoutus?huhuhuhuhuh?
Wemissedyou!it'ssogoodtoseeyouandnowwecanhavearealteamagainandit'llbesomuchfunandandand. . ."
"Robin! I'm so glad you're safe! I was so worried -"
"- thought we'd, like, lost you for good -"
"- couldn't find you anywhere, even using vooduin -"
"lookedandlookedandlookedalloverwellexceptGothamcozweknewyoucouldn'tbetherewithoutBatmanfindingyou. . . "
"- didn't tell us! We weren't even like totally sure you were missing until -"
"- promised I wouldn't be evil if you'd just come back -"
As the confused babble of voices washed over him, Robin searched desperately for any trace of memory of these people. Nothing was forthcoming. The Doctor did his job well, Robin thought bitterly, as his mind turned up only the dry words of the Crays files. Name: Superboy. Secret Identity: Kon-el. Base of Operations: Hawaii. Powers: tactile telekinesis. Weaknesses: Kryptonite. Name: Wondergirl. Secret Identity . . . .The listings went on.
He could recognise all of them, with the exception of the mist girl. But the ID photos on file bore only a superficial likeness to the people before him. They could do little more, really; a static shot would never contain the restless, enthusiastic energy of Impulse, the sparkling happiness and dramatic gestures of Superboy, or the leonine grace of Empress.
His mind tracked back to the mist girl. There was no spark of recognition in him at all. **Not even a Crays file on her. Surprising.** Turning to her, he opened his mouth to speak, acutely aware of how the others all hushed. Well, except Impulse.
"The others I recognise from their files, but who are you?"
Even Impulse shut up at that one. The silence was absolute, and deafening after the babble of mere seconds before. Of all the things Young Justice had expected to hear fall from their newly-returned leader's lips, this was *not* one them. Secret's sudden hiccoughing sobs broke the quiet.
"You . . . You don't remember her? And what's this about files? Hold on - do you, like, even remember the rest of us?" The pain in Wondergirl's voice was evident, as was the fact she, too, was biting back tears.
Superboy and Nightwing spoke, for the first time in their lives, almost simultaneously.
"Come on, let's get inside and discuss this properly."
It was a good idea, unfortunately they never quite got that far.
From their vantage points at the base of the tower, Donna and Roy - Troia and Arsenal - watched the happy-looking group. As the group hug finally broke up, Troia turned to her ex-lover and smilingly nudged him along with her.
"Come on," she laughed, "let's go say 'hi' before we leave them alone to trash - and then frantically clean up - the place!"
Laughing indulgently, Arsenal followed her lead and the two strolled down the gentle slope to the jetty.
They, too, never quite got that far.
The arrival of the two visitors was sudden. One moment there were only the two groups on the island, the next instant - quite literally - a third had arrived midway between the two others.
This group consisted of only two figures, male and female. Tall, long-haired and lithe, their stances were utterly non-threatening. It was obvious, also from the way they moved, that while they were no strangers to battle, it was not on their current agenda. With a resounding war cry, Troia charged them.
"Demon!" She yowled, her Olympus given senses shrilling the alarm. Of the two figures, one was definitely a hated resident from the Demon Planes, the other . . .
The other she couldn't tell. But it had come with the demon and so must, she decided, be in league with it. **Demons. I hate Demons!** Taking his cue from her, Arsenal raced after her, knocking an arrow to his bow as he ran. Taking careful aim despite moving at a sprint, he raised the bow to sight on the darker-haired of his opponents . . .
Only to run face-first into a green-gloved fist coming the other way.
Nobody had seen him move. Not even Impulse (who, to be honest, hadn't really been paying attention). He simply was suddenly there, kayoing Arsenal and then continuing the liquid smooth movement into a spinning leap that landed him in front of the battle-hungry Amazon. As he flipped, Robin flung out a batarang, striking with uncanny precision into the soft gap of flesh just above Troia's gauntlets, numbing the nerve there. Dropping to the ground in shock, she and Arsenal stared at this most unexpected of opponents.
"Robin! He's a demon! Get away from him now!" Troia yelled, distressed.
"No."
"What?!"
"C'mon Troia, looks like we gotta go save the kid from himself!" With that Arsenal hauled himself to his feet, intent on 'saving' his best friend's 'kid brother'. After all, if *Donna* said the two were demons, and attacked straight away, who was he to argue?
He was stopped by a harsh, cawing sound. It took him a moment to identify it as a laugh, and even longer to realise where it was coming from.
Robin's mirthless amusement ceased as abruptly as it had started.
"Save me? Only now? Your hypocrisy makes me sick!" His voice lowered venomously, until it was almost a sibilant whisper. "The two of you had your chance! You could have rescued me, saved both of us! One life, two souls. You chose not to."
"Robin?" it was Donna, trying desperately to make sense of a world gone suddenly crazy. She may have failed in helping people in the past, but this was the first time she'd been accused of lack of trying, and by a fellow hero no less. "Robin, what are you talking about?"
Shocked into speechlessness, Robin could only stare, **she doesn't remember? Kaze's pleas for help meant so little to her that she's already forgotten? I saw Oracle's tape! Kaze all but begged on his knees for their assistance!** Getting no reply except a wounded glare, Donna gamely tried again.
"Robin, please, we can talk this out. But first you have to move away from the Demon! Just let me take him down and we'll talk."
The glare turned vicious, and when Robin spoke it was with a quiet, deadly voice frighteningly reminiscent - to Superboy and Nightwing - of the assassin Vingt.
"If you attempt to harm my master, or his lady, I will see to it you are destroyed so utterly that not even a speedster's memories will save you." There was no threat in his tone. It was, simply, a promise.
Taken aback at the venom in his voice, Troia could only stare as the small figure of Robin turned his back on her and walked over to the demon he had named his master. Off to one side she could hear the sharp intake of breath from Nightwing, as well as his whispered question, " 'Master'?"
It was at that moment that the other members of Young Justice, no longer paralysed by horror and surprise at the unexpected turn of events, chose haphazardly to enter the fray.
They were a moment too late. With a sweep of her arm, the demon's dark-haired companion raised a shimmering dome-like shield, trapping the young heroes on the outside, and Robin within. Fists pounding uselessly on the translucent barrier, Superboy and the others could just make out the three figures within, apparently engaged in conversation. Then the smallest, slightest figure, the one they knew to be Robin, collapsed into the arms of one of the taller ones as the second plunged two fingers through his Kevlar vest and into his chest.
That was when all hell broke loose.
END PART IV. Part V coming soon.
Notes:
1. Wendy Werewolf Stalker is a popular show in the DC-verse, and Superboy's favourite. Gee, I can't think what it could be based on.
2. The speedster Robin refers to is the Flash, from whose memories the current Donna Troy was resurrected.
3. Donna's intense dislike of demons, and even her use of the line "Demons. I hate Demons!" is taken from the Planet DC 2000 Titans annual, titled "Japan's newest son: Bushido"
4. Yep. You guessed it. the shishou is a demon (of sorts) and Kaguya isn't. Further explanation will be forthcoming in the next instalment. (Now that I've laid to rest all those Elf rumours. . .) This is not without precedent in the Batbooks - I refer interested parties to the start of the Brentwood story arc/Robin's first room-mate in the Robin comics.
5. "One life, two souls." Robin is referring to the fact that he is, for want of a better phrase, utterly altered, as was Kaze. The life in question is Kaze's who died in Gotham some time after Troia and Arsenal turned down his request for help. (The fact that he clobbered Arsenal **might** have had a little bit to do with it, but I doubt Robin's thinking along those lines.)
6. The canon line-up of Young Justice has, I know, undergone a number of changes of late. However I'm opting to go with the team that was present when the great betrayal occurred. Minus Lobo, because I can't imagine he'd stick around for eleven months if nothing interesting was happening. (The team's been inactive since shortly after Robin disappeared.)
7. As always, homage is intended, copyright infringement is not. Please C&C.
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The conversation had indeed been an odd one, though the violence was unexpected.