Wind and the Snow
Part VII
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein, with the sole exception of my original character Yuki, belong to DC, Warner Bros. and whoever else. They are not mine. I am simply borrowing them for the purpose of a little entertainment (mine and hopefully my readers'). This fic generates no financial gain, now or ever. Please don't sue; you're a well-financed multinational corporation. I'm not.
Notes: Okay, I wrote this. Then I re-wrote it. Then the disk and a mobile phone got into a brawl. The disk, or rather the data on it, lost. So, this is version three of part seven, shorter and more poorly written than I'd planned.
Special thanks to Maggie and Lockheed, for comments and constructive criticism, as well as a few gentle nudges to get me working.
Robin stared at the vehicle parked immobile in the launch bay in front of him. He couldn't shake the feeling that said vehicle was looking right back at him, a tense eagerness in it's pose.
Exhaling, he searched his memory. Fuzzy, and obscured by other memories of pain and torture, the Supercycle was there. The other regular occupants of the cycle were utterly blanked out, though he knew from his post-rescue research that they comprised the ranks of Young Justice. The physical form of the cycle was somewhat different from what he had muzzily expected. But that's not surprising. The Doctor would have erased as much of my memory of the cycle as he could, but it would have been hard to match it specifically to this one. Indeed, I suspect this machine is unique, at least on this planet. Certainly, an erasure programme for a **sentient** vehicle with a distinctly droll personality would have been difficult to write. Carefully, he skirted around his memories, gingerly avoiding the pain blocks that still bruised his psyche. Behind him, Young Justice held their collective breaths.
A slight curve of his lips, the closest he had come to a genuine smile since his arrival at Titans Tower, and Robin knelt down in front of the cycle.
"Hi," He said simply, "I think I kind of remember you. I think maybe we were . . . friends?"
If it had had a tail, the Supercycle would have been wagging it furiously. As it was, however, the bike simply settled for bouncing in eagerness, butting its bumper bar against Robin's arm until he gently started caressing it.
Running his fingers over one of the cycle's headlights, Robin murmured, "I'm glad I was right. I'm glad there're some things I still remember right." And not all of them involve pain. The sentiment, though unspoken, was not unthought. Nor was it unique to Robin.
"Hey kewl! The cyke's happy again!!" Imp bounced with delight, while Superboy, pretending to be annoyed, exclaimed "Great. He doesn't remember us, but the Supercycle? No prob! I wonder if we should be offended."
In the aftermath of the laughter that followed his comment – laughter that Robin did not join – Superboy ceremoniously climbed into the front passenger compartment. The others followed his lead until all were seated, leaving only Robin standing, and only one place unoccupied.
"Well, what're we waiting for?" With a giggle, Secret gestured to the empty pilot's seat. A bare instant of hesitation, and Robin swung his leg over the cycle, dropping into what had been his accustomed place. It felt . . . right. Somehow, in some way that Robin couldn't define, it felt just perfect.
"Nothing," he said resolutely, "we're waiting for absolutely nothing." A thought, as much as the touch on the handlebars, sent the Supercycle spinning out into the night.
"So," Superboy settled himself more comfortably into his spot, the others mirroring his actions as they reacquainted themselves with the cycle's upholstery (it had been a long time since they'd been able to convince the cycle to 'come out and play'). "Where're we headed?"
"Africa."
As he touched the phase-out button on the console and sent the Cycle plummeting earthward on what only **looked** like an out-of-control, unplanned trajectory, Robin calmly elaborated, "We're going to see what a certain camel-riding tribe of demon followers can tell us."
************
Finding their foe took substantially less time that Robin – or indeed any of them – had anticipated.
This was because, rather than going first to the Bedouin camp to begin their investigations, they fell – quite literally - over Al Ghul's stronghold.
On later reflection, Robin would come to suspect that this was a lot less accidental than it had seemed at the time; the cycle still had **some** unknown characteristics. Not the least of which, Robin was inclined to think, was the remarkable ability to track down otherwise-capable people who'd managed to land in far greater peril than they could reasonably be expected to extricate themselves from. Witness how it found Arrowette, he mused, after her first encounter with Harm.
At the time, however, Robin was acutely more interested in how his phase-through trajectory had suddenly become an airborne trajectory a full three seconds before he'd calculated they were due to arrive at the Sahara camp. Then, as the Supercycle's scanners showed the base cunningly hidden behind the rocky cliff face, he had other things on his mind.
So, Al Ghul is indeed in Africa. And mere miles from his tribe of legion deserters and camel ornamentation fabricators. You'd think after his last little run-in with the Batman he'd know better than that. Hovering above the cliff, Robin hit the phase out button, and directed the cycle downwards.
For the second time in the space of one trip, the Supercycle fell like a rock, jarring it's occupants even through the air-and-pressure bubble it had created around them. It fell, and it phased, avoiding the flak of anti-aircraft fire that erupted from the innocent looking rockface.
The controlled tumble took the Supercycle right through the cliff (and through several large chambers), before it phased in again, it's passengers grimly hanging on for dear life, Superboy too startled to even think of fixing them all in place with his tactile telekinesis.
In the end it was this oversight that saved all their lives.
From his superior vantage point in the piloting seat, Robin caught a flashing glimpse of a spreading dark mass underneath the cycle. With an instinct born from the unique combination of programming and the wild streets of Gotham, he leapt from the cycle, slinging a jump line over a security turret as he did so.
"Everybody scatter!" He yelled, swinging away from the blackness that carpeted a large section of the floor.
To their credit, all of Young Justice started to move. Impulse even got so far as to make it off the cycle. Unfortunately, his running leap carried him onto the spreading darkness. . .
And there he stuck, face down, as the sudden deceleration sent him sprawling.
"Impulse!"
"S'okay! My frictionless aura kept me okay!" Concerned, Wonder Girl flew from her seat, intent on pulling her team-mate out of the dark, almost sticky, matter that held him fast. Grabbing at him, she managed to turn him over, some of the culprit substance spattering her costume and skin as she did so.
The dull thud of an adolescent girl hitting the ground was very audible in the suddenly hushed chamber. The dark drops, adhesive to Wonder Girl, had sought their source, dragging the hapless teen with them, her strength irrelevant.
"Stay put!" Robin yelled, but too late . . .
Both Secret and Superboy moved to their team's assistance, and both were flung down by dual energy beams slicing out of the dark field. While Superboy, stunned, fell and promptly stuck to the inky matter, Secret was netted into place by the web of electricity spun from the beams.
From his crouching stance on the security turret, Robin glanced across the room, noting the sudden immobility of his companions and their vehicle. Rapidly his mind ticked over, formulating and discarding plan after plan.
It was less than a second before he decided on a reasonable course of action.
"Are you all physically functional?"
Various affirmatives, sheepish, angry and frightened, greeted his query.
"Superboy, can you use your TK to free yourself and the others?"
"Um . . . I'll give it a go. I'm sorta more used to bindin' stuff together, or makin' stuff invulnerable than I am to rippin' it apart. Plus this goo's . . . strange. I dunno, hard to work with or something."
"Work on it. Impulse, you try vibrating through it. Wondergirl, hold onto him as he does so."
"Okay, I'll . . . YEOWCH! The stuff's like tar! Vibrating only makes it heat up and burn!"
His face expressionless, Robin held his sigh in check. Why did I think getting these guys to help was such a good idea again? Turning, he focussed his attention to the only person still inside the Supercycle.
"Empress, can you teleport out of the cycle? To the margin of this black stuff?"
"No. I've been gauging that while you were talking. My teleporting range is limited to a couple of feet. It's too far for me to make it."
Without an instant of hesitation, Robin readied a jump line. If I can get her off the bogged-down cycle without either of us getting trapped like the others, she will provide a significant tactical advantage. Calculating his trajectory carefully, he realised a simple swing wouldn't work; even if the mired cycle allowed her to stand on it's handlebars for the pick-up, the curve of his line would still smear them across the wall on the far side of the room, just below the security turret that was the twin of the one he presently crouched on. Hn. If I can get a line slung across to the other turret. . .
"Can you teleport to a point four meters above your head?"
"Uh . . . midair?"
"Affirmative."
"But . . . I'll fall!"
"Yes, and I'll catch you." It was a moment of truth. Robin knew it, and so did everyone else. Would Empress trust him? This strange boy, both the same as, and radically different from, the leader lost nearly a year ago. Taken, and then returned, reshaped into an almost unknown quantity . . . Could any of the team trust him? Could they afford not to? An almost imperceptible hesitation later, Empress replied firmly.
"Just tell me when you want me to 'port."
Robin let out a breath he barely realised he'd been holding.
"When I say to, teleport. As soon as you've done so, go limp."
"Um . . . Okay." Nodding, Empress signalled her readiness. With careful aim, Robin threw the jump line to the opposite turret, snagging it around one of the jutting cameras and pulling the line taut before affixing it to another convenient protuberance at his feet. I'd better hurry. Even though the cycle's phasing may have thrown them for a little, Ra's Al Ghul's forces should be here pretty promptly, and I'd rather not be in the middle of a rescue when I find out if Al Ghul's warrior survived Shiva's attack on the India base. With that in mind, he stepped onto the makeshift tightrope and, as easily as if he were merely going for a run in a park, dashed sure-footedly to a point just above Empress and the cycle.
"Go now." Empress, caught flat-footed by the Boy Wonder's casual agility, nodded briefly, and vanished . . .
She reappeared almost instantaneously, a little over four meters above her previous position, using all of her considerable discipline to go limp as gravity took hold, and she tumbled earthwards. . .
Her fall was arrested less than a meter after it started, when she landed in Robin's arms. Empress barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before she was slung into an undignified fireman's hoist over the other teen's shoulders, and he continued on his way to the other turret. They would have made it too, if not for the millisecond pause.
Robin caught the girl and adjusted to her weight easily; she wasn't that much heavier than he'd estimated, though enough so that the best way of retaining his balance was carrying her across his shoulders. His legs straightened from the catch, and he started moving again, a touch more sedately than before, towards the far turret. Then I need to work out how to get out of here. Ideally after negating this black stuff that's holding everyone. Hn. Maybe I can get Empress to do that while I go ahead and look for Yuki.
It was then that he glanced down, and in the process made an important discovery.
The black field that held the rest of Young Justice captive was shrinking. Rapidly. Even as he watched, the margin reached Wondergirl on the outermost edge. For an instant he held the futile hope that it would retreat around her, but that desire was dashed as the goo simply dragged her with it. Her squawk of surprise attracted the attention of the others affixed to the floor, and all turned from watching Robin's progress to the source of the noise.
At the same time that the ebbing black wave slammed Young Justice against the wall like so much human flotsam, the heroes became acutely aware that they were no longer alone in the room. Awareness precipitated by the harsh crack of gunfire.
As the shot rang out, Robin dropped Empress, who teleported to the now goo-free ground. A gut-wrenching instant later, when she stood up, it became apparent she was unhurt. Breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief, Young Justice turned back to their nominal leader, who remained balanced with almost unnatural stillness on the tightrope. . .
It didn't last.
The Boy Wonder crumpled, his fall from the tightrope an elegant swan dive that ended in a grisly thump. He moved before anyone could scream, however, rolling onto his side. Thank God for Kevlar! Robin turned his head to look up to the direction the shot had come from. The others could only follow his gaze as his eyes widened and his breath caught.
The object of their scrutiny was remarkably unprepossessing. A slight, almost fragile seeming shape, standing in an entryway that had opened in a previously blank wall. The figure breezed into the room with feline grace, still-smoking gun dangling loosely from a black gloved hand, almost as an afterthought. The inky darkness of the glove melded into the rest of the figure's outfit, which swathed the body entirely in close fitting black, leaving only the head exposed.
The face was of indifferent beauty, a smooth, emotionless mask beneath tightly knotted dark hair, chips of ice for eyes. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Superboy recalled the only other time he had seen such a flat, dead expression. It wasn't a hard search; the memory was burned into his brain as vividly as if it had only just occurred.
Superboy's worst nightmares were realised as behind him, from his slumped position on the floor, Robin managed to grind out a single, strangled word. . .
"K-Kaze?"
To be continued in part VIII.
NOTES
1. Impulse's inability to vibrate through tar is discussed and expanded on very early on in his own comic. Sorry, I can't tell you the exact issue number it first comes up in. If anyone can help me out here, please let me know.