WIND AND THE SNOW part 6
Disclaimer: the characters portrayed herein belong, with the exception of Kaze and Yuki, to DC, Warner Bros. and whoever else. Not me. I am simply borrowing them briefly. I am making no profit from this fic, and suing me would be an utter waste of time.
Robin clambered through the air-conditioning vents, ignoring the layers of dust and debris that tickled his nose and made his throat scratch. He'd memorised a number of maps of the Titan's Tower as a matter of course, and was glad now to be able to recall them effortlessly. Especially the one of the duct system.
Behind him, the clamouring sounds from the med bay receded, and Robin sighed. I wish I could have. . . But really, I can't afford to explain. I don't have the precious time I'd need for it, and more importantly, neither does Yuki. He couldn't tell how he knew, but the feeling oozed from his bones with utter certainty. Yuki's time was running out. Dammit! If I just remembered them, knew how to tell them what I need in a way that'd get them to understand, get their help. . . Savagely, he cut the thought short. He **didn't** remember them. And anyhow, the Titans had refused Kaze aid, why should they, or their protégé Young Justice, help him? If they wouldn't assist what had been – by their standards – a civilian, then they certainly wouldn't aid Robin: A vigilante as steeped in bat-mythos as I am would probably be expected to pull off minor miracles of the search-and-rescue nature easily, he considered bitterly.
Never mind that search-and-rescue was the one 'minor miracle' that the Bat family had failed miserably in performing when Robin himself was kidnapped.
At any rate, he was on his own. And if he wasn't fast, Yuki would be, too.
On the plus side, the commotion had driven the two resident Titans from the console room, which made his task that much easier when he dropped noiselessly into the corridor outside the chamber, slid through the door, and barricaded himself inside. Turning to the bank of state-of-the-art computers, Robin bent to his task.
His 'back door' into Oracle's system opened, Robin proceeded to search for everything he could find, any elusive clue to track down Yuki's abductors. There was depressingly little in the general information pool, as he discovered moments later; no private jets had left Gotham within the requisite time frame, nor had any hire cars been taken. The tollbooths on the edge of Gotham – built after the reconstruction and still manned by human workers, both of the toll-collecting variety and recently the police drug-sting variety – recorded no even remotely suspicious vehicles (an oddity of itself, given how many of Gotham's villains were involved in smuggling in one way or another), likewise with the boats in Gotham Harbour.
So, either the kidnappers are sneakier – and better resourced – than most, or they're still in Gotham. He fervently hoped it was the second. The first, well the first smacked strongly of the Organisation, or some set-up of a similar size and monetary endowment, if not the same precise nature. After all, Oracle had checked all these parameters when **he** had disappeared, and nothing had come up. Robin suppressed a shiver, then his mind tracked back a step.
A large, well-financed operation. Hn.
An instant later, Robin entered the Mireba Industries network. He had, through the Shishou and Kaguya (the first a confirmed techno-head, though he'd deny it to his last breath), been set up with a limited access to the system, to enable his safe and easy passage within the building to get to training (The security was updated regularly, so allowing him computer access to the update plans was the best way of ensuring his continued good health while also providing valuable 'sneaky entrance' practice by allowing him to come as he pleased, and enter unannounced. Truly, his teachers thought of everything). Through this, he springboarded into the rest of the security system, on a simple, honest-to-goodness punt.
Fortunately, it worked. I was counting on the Mireba Clan's unwillingness to lose a second child to suspicious circumstances. After all, Yuki's the only living scion left! With renewed determination, Robin set about making sure she remained that way.
The Mireba security set-up included cameras all over the building (except in the Dojo itself), on the street outside the building. . .
And in Yuki's bedroom and quarters at Bryleaf.
Robin did not waver, did not even hesitate. His fingers flew as he directed the cameras to zoom over every inch of what he now designated 'the crime scene'.
*********
They're very good whoever they are, he mused as he examined with clinical detachment the images on the screen, but the retrievalists were better. There was, if one looked closely, a wealth of information left behind: a fragment of ripped cloth hung from the windowsill, and there were boot prints over the floor where the assailants had tracked in mud and debris from the garden outside. (As Yuki's rooms were ground floor, there were no prizes for guessing how the goons had entered.) Forensics had already been by, and had vacuumed the carpet. A mere thought and a flick of the fingers, and Robin was deep within the Police network. A human reviewed analysis of the vacuum contents had not yet been done, but Robin helped himself to the scanned images already in Oracle's network. Egyptian Cotton. Cheap. Exported all over and used for lots of things. Except that I know Yuki hates the stuff. A few strands of hair. Animal, Robin decided, examining them. Activating the Crays via remote, he set that remarkable machine to work on matching the hair's refractory patterns, and the fabric's dye characteristics, while he examined the rest of the information.
The computer pinged as he was contemplating the sole pattern left behind by the boot print. Foreign Legion I bet, they're the only ones who officially use this grip, though a number of Legionnaires have gone mercenary with their equipment. Just as well most of the detective training Batman gave me was still deemed useful by the Doctor for locating targets. I'd have spent ages matching this print otherwise. Backtracking, he looked at the company that produced the boot, the orders logbook of which confirmed his theory. And none sold as surplus? Wow, they're doing better than Doc Martins. Ah . . . Made in batches for the Legion, which keeps the excess pairs on hand. Legion files, though slightly harder to crack, showed that no fewer than four hundred Legionnaires had absconded or been discharged since the boots had been issued. Three hundred had taken their footwear with them. Robin wasn't sure what to make of the other hundred, but that really wasn't his priority. There were no reports of break-ins or theft from the boot storage area.
The footprint in Yuki's room shows some wear and tear. Given that the soles are made out of extra-durable rubber compounds, that sort of deterioration would take two or three years of solid, every day wear. He excluded from his list of three hundred all those who had been gone less than eighteen months (to be on the safe side). The boots had only been brought in as standard equipment four years prior, narrowing his search to a mere hundred people who had obtained the footwear in the requisite period. Of these hundred, the whereabouts of the thirty still in the legion were confirmed at the time of the kidnap; five had been imprisoned, fifteen had logged radio calls from various parts of the middle east (undertaking, Robin was sure, a variety of interesting and possibly illegal missions). Ten had been in hospital. Okay, looks like we can rule out active Legionnaires.
He turned his attention to the remaining seventy people. The whereabouts of many where unknown. Glancing at the boot again, he ruled out about a third of the honourably discharged. After all, if you're a paraplegic or missing a limb or two you can't really go climbing through windows and abducting extremely capable girls by yourself. At least, not usually. This left him with fifty people, presumably scattered across the face of the earth. Robin sighed in irritation.
I don't even know who's behind this, so I can't work forward from that to figure out which of these people is likely to be doing their gruntwork. Mireba Industries has a lot of enemies, all major corporations do. But enough with the resources to hire mercenaries like this? For a simple kidnapping with no ransom demand? Check that. The kidnap of an accomplished martial artist, which, since it was a successful abduction, means they planned well and knew their victim's capabilities.
So what if it's not Mireba Industries they're after? What if it really is Yuki herself? Why would they want her, if not for her status as the Mireba heir? Her martial arts ability? The training she got from Kaguya and the Shishou? If that's the case, then . . . Another hunch, and Robin, like his mentor, had learned to trust them. . .
*****
It had been a matter of sheer simplicity for Robin to install cameras in his own room, part of his security network (after all, he kept his costume there. He wanted, no **needed** to know what happened in the room when he was absent.) It was equally simple for him to activate those cameras remotely, and view his living space in vivid colour.
The place had been utterly ransacked. It seemed that the criminals had had the finesse to pick the lock on the door, enter quietly, and then get really annoyed that the room was empty and trash it. Looking, presumably, for me, since Yuki was obviously in her room and not visiting (which, of course, school rules prohibit, so she wouldn' t have done anyway). So. A quick analysis of the marks in the room indicated that it had been the same team as the one dispatched to Yuki's quarters – no fabric, but a wealth of faint boot prints. The cleaner is gonna have a fit when he goes into the common room and sees this. Lucky he only comes once a week. Even luckier, the police don't know about this break-in, so the place is untouched.
Then, jackpot: fallen in the corner was a small piece of beadwork on a leather string. Inconsequential to most, Robin zoomed in on it immediately. It was not his. He owned no pendant or article of clothing from which it may have come. And I have had no visitors into the room. Which left one conclusion. It belonged to the kidnappers.
Nightwing, and possibly even Batman, would have taken a step back at the look that iced over Robin's eyes as he regarded the small object. A rather uncommon piece of adornment. One I've seen precisely once before.
As if reading his mind, the link to the Crays computer blipped at that very moment. The hair was indeed animal. From a camel to be specific. Robin smiled grimly; it matched with the beadwork.
I remember that beaded style of camel ornamentation from an old case of Batman's I was reviewing; it comes from a nomadic tribe in the Sahara. Batman tracked them down once before, and with them, Ra's al Ghul! The catch is, as they are nomadic, how will I find them? Turning back to the data from the Foreign Legion, he narrowed the list of names down to those registered as tribesmen from the African continent. There were ten. Interestingly, they had all enlisted on the same day, and despite serving in several different units with different active duty rosters, all managed to abscond on the identical date. They'd left few days after, Robin noted, R'as had vanished from the Indian subcontinent, his base there reputedly destroyed by Shiva. One event is odd, two is coincidence. Three. . . Three is enemy action. I wonder how Ra's managed to tick **Shiva** off? Mentally reviewing what he knew of both Shiva and Ra's, Robin reached a different conclusion. Perhaps he's got – had – an exceptional warrior in his employ. If it's still present tense, I may yet have him or her to contend with. Anyone who gives Shiva a run for her money is dangerous, though since the base was levelled it's altogether likely Shiva was victorious. Again. And the 'challenge' is dead. Neither thought boded well, though selfishly, Robin hoped the contender had at least been taken out of action or was no longer with the Demon. A knock-down, draw-out fight would delay any rescue mission. And I do not wish that. Yuki may not have that time. Shaking himself, he got back to work.
It was likely, he realised, that the tribesmen had been loyal to al Ghul before they'd signed up, and then joined the legion when they were surplus to his immediate needs, going AWOL when the time came that their presence was again required. It was also likely that they would rejoin their tribe after Yuki was successfully delivered to . . . wherever. After all, as deserters, it's not like they can go back the Legion if Ra's has no further immediate need for them. So. That's where I start 'enquiring'. And if I find the Demon at the same time, all the better, for where he is, Yuki will be. It also explained how Yuki had been taken out of Gotham; Ra's al Ghul was one of the few private owner-operators of a long-range stealth helicopter. Despite his detective work so far, Robin could not rid himself of the nagging suspicion he'd missed something. Shrugging, he set his subconscious to work on it as he sliced into the satellite monitoring division of the pentagon.
Maps detailing the precise current location of the nomad tribe firmly in his possession, Robin was about to override the security codes for the Titan's jet, preparatory to absconding with it (codes which Batman had unknowingly supplied when he'd allowed Robin access to the Crays in his convalescence: The Bat had them because he believed in being well prepared for any eventuality, and in this as in many other things, Robin was his willing pupil.) when someone **else** overrode the security lock on the console room door.
Robin found himself confronted with a confused, and highly annoyed, Young Justice (and Nightwing).
"Beating up two Titans, getting beaten up by some . . . things, and then nicking off on us? Robin, what's going on?!" Looking guiltily at his big brother, Robin opened his mouth to speak. He cared for this man, cared for his opinion, didn't want to lose the big brother-little brother relationship they shared. So I have to be honest, take the time to answer properly. Yuki will understand, especially as I know him, know how to tell him what I need to, without it taking forever.
"I . . . I needed to do something. I didn't have time . . . I, look Troia'll get full sensation back in her hand eventually. Please. Please, let me do what I need to."
Nightwing stared at him for a long moment, and Robin could feel the atmosphere getting ready to explode. Oddly enough, it was Superboy who interjected.
"Um, say Nightwing, can we, like, have a minute with him? Alone? Seeing as how this is kinda s'posed to be **our** reunion anyway."
After another long glance at his little brother, Nightwing nodded shortly and left silently.
************
The silence lasted precisely as long as it took for Nightwing to exit the room. Then, Wondergirl broke the quiet.
"Robin, we know you don't remember us, but this! You obviously don't – can't or won't - trust us, so why did you come in the first place?!" Her hurt, for some reason, shook him to his bones.
"I . . . I, it wasn't my idea! I . . ." He trailed off, alarmed by their sudden angry stares.
"It was Batman's idea, wasn't it?" Wondergirl's voice was filled with anguish and disgust. "He came up with plans to stop the JLA if they ever got out of line by his book. He sent you to meet up with us. Get current data on us that, like, none of our JLA mentors would let him near after that mess where the plans were stolen, so he could make the same arrangement with us, didn't he? Or was this all your own plan?"
Boldness, Robin decided, was the key. That and honesty. With no small amount of speed. "Not at all," he replied. "However, I think that's an excellent idea."
For the second time in the space of a day, shocked silence greeted his words. Taking advantage of the lull, Robin continued.
"I suggest that, when you have some time, the group of you sit down and work out a plan which you can use against me if I ever go rogue." Not that it will likely work, given how different I am now from the Robin they knew then, but it will be a useful diversion. "After all, even I can get kidnapped and brainwashed, and if it happens again I might be targeting you lot for assassination."
From the horrified, but largely unsurprised expressions on their faces, Robin figured out how much Nightwing must have told them already. Some of it. But not all. Not that I'd been 'brainwashed' – as if you could call the reprogramming process something that crude and incomplete – and not that I shot Batman. So. Nightwing trusts these guys a lot, but still respects my privacy. Interesting. A moot point, given that with that one sentence I've very likely completely destroyed any trust they ever had for me.
This time, however, it was Robin's turn to be surprised. Secret's voice, breathy and as gentle as a kiss, wafted out into the room.
"That wasn't your fault! It can't have been! And anyway, that still doesn't tell us why you agreed to come, even though it wasn't your idea?" Robin started; the voice held no accusation, no distance or distaste, just a simple desperate need to know. There was something special about this mist girl, Robin knew, though he could not recall what. Whatever it was, she deserved the truth. Searching the faces of the other Y.J.ers, Robin knew that held true for all of them. Slowly, he drew in a long breath, carefully phrasing his reply.
"I came because I needed to see Superboy."
"You remember him?!"
"Not. . . Not from before. But from afterwards, yes, I do. So I came because I had some things to say to him, things that I really couldn't leave waiting." Turning, he addressed the teen of steel. "So, can I talk to you privately for a minute?"
Before Superboy could open his mouth, Wondergirl's voice cut across, still sharp.
"No! You just said you might be targeting us! I'm not gonna let you take us one-on-one!"
"Wondy!" "How can you – " "That's not –" Robin cut across the swell of angry voices.
"Acknowledged." He turned to Superboy, "I wanted to say thank you, and to apologise."
"What?"
"Thank you for saving my life."
"Oh, that. No sweat. It's what team-mates do, right? And it's what the Kid does best!" Robin smiled thinly and without humour at that.
"And I'm sorry I tried to kill you."
The speed of Superboy's reply indicated that he, too, had seen the horrified expressions on the rest of Young Justice's faces.
"Again, no problem. After all, it wasn't like it was really you doin' it, an' hey, I'm still alive. Guess this makes us square for that Ivy thing a while back, okay?"
Robin's almost-smile was this time a lot closer to real.
"Deal."
"Whaddayamean,itwasn'treallyhim? Whathappened?" Robin paused at the speedster's rushed question. It probably deserved an answer. And the right answer will get them off my back so I can go rescue Yuki. Stealing the Titan's jet was still an option, he decided.
"What happened? Superboy got in the way."
"So you didn't really mean to hurt him? To . . . kill him?" Wondergirl spoke, her tone indicating she desperately wanted to believe. To know that all was still right in her world. That one of her universal constants – superheroes don't kill, and especially not each other – hadn't been turned on it's head.
"I hadn't planned on it. After all, the target I was programmed to assassinate was Batman."
Taking advantage of the frozen silence that followed, Robin slipped into the corridor, heading for the launch bay. Estimate about two minutes before the shock wears off and they come charging after me. And try to stop me. They hardly see me as an ally anymore, and they may see me as a foe. Not that it matters, as they probably wouldn't have helped me anyway. It was going to be close, but he should still make it . . .
He hadn't counted on the mist girl.
She was suddenly around him, enveloping him, holding him close without making him feel imprisoned. On the contrary, for the first time in a very long while, Robin felt utterly safe.
The delay wasn't long, but it was long enough.
"So, what's the big mission now? Where're we going?" Cheerfully, Superboy spoke, behind him the various members of Young Justice nodded enthusiastically.
"We? **I'm** going to rescue someone. Someone very . . . special."
Impulse groaned, "not another token love interest, please! I don't know what you guys see in them! None of them are cool friends like Carol and me, they're all just goopy romantic-y . . ."
"No, she's not . . . the two of us aren't like that." Hope flared in Robin. They . . . they're going to help? Even though the Titans wouldn't?
"So what is she then?" For the first time, Secret sounded annoyed. Huh? I don't get it. She's okay with abduction, brainwashing and attempted murder, but me having a girlfriend is bad? Robin shoved the observation aside. He could ponder it later.
"She's . . . family, I guess. The cousin of a really important friend of mine, a friend I owe bigtime."
"Owe? Like what? More than you owe the Kid here for saving your life?" Robin winced at the utter lack of tack.
"Superboy saved my life. Kaze made sure I had enough of a mind of my own left to be able to take advantage of that."
Silence.
"Alright then!" "Let's get a move-on!" "C'mon, outta here!" "We managed to coax the Supercycle to come with us when we told it you were gonna be here, so let's go!" "Yeah, flying'll be pretty quick."
As he was dragged off, dazed by his team's cheerful assumption that yes, they could and more importantly would (of course) help, Robin could only think, So I **was** right about the flying motorbike!
End part six. Part seven coming soon.
A very big thanks to Margo, without whose cheerful encouragement, this part would likely have taken a good deal longer.
NOTES:
1. Giving Robin a building's security plans, and then expecting him to infiltrate it is par for the course (See 'Robin: A Hero Reborn' trade paperback.). Kaguya and the Shishou are, I guess, just expanding their teaching repertoire (grin) and tailoring it to their student.
2. No, I have **no** idea what sort of footwear the Foreign Legion uses. And yes, I sincerely doubt their equipment set-up is as complicated as this. But hey, that's what story-telling license (and plot devices) is all about.
3. The strip-of-beaded-leather plot device is borrowed from "Batman: Tales of the Demon" trade paperback.
4. Yes, I know. YJ has various degrees of OOC-ness in this part. Especially Wondergirl, whose tendency to see things as black or white I have taken to an extreme. **shrugs** hey, it fit the plot, and it's eleven months after their leader vanished mysteriously. People change. (see? Absolutely nothing to do with my crappy writing skills. See? See?)
5. I attempted a small amount of humour in the very last bit of this fic. I'm not so good at humour. Please tell me what you think.