"On the ground, now!"
Yindel is shouting, roaring to be heard over the sounds of police boots and gunmetal. Her pistol is raised and the sights are level with his skull, but Bruce can see that she isn't ready. Darkness and ash clouds her vision, shrouds his movements as he finds an opening in the chaos and takes it.
His knuckles crack against her sternum as the first shot rings out, the noise of bone breaking drowned in the brief hail of gunfire that follows as another bullet leaves the chamber and flies harmlessly up into the ceiling. She staggers backwards and into the arms of her men, grasping at her wounded chest as they falter, check to see if she's alright. Sloppy.
He detonates the smoke grenade before they can realize what's happened, and as fog fills the air and invades their lungs he and Robin are running, a mad synchronized dash to the window as the Wing comes into view. A dark shape hovering just beyond the filthy glass. It shatters and splinters as they fly headlong through and out the other side, feet dangling in the streetlit void of the Gotham night as their hands lock around the handles of the machine like a pair of vice grips.
Just like they practiced. His eyes dart to Kelley- automatically- and find her unflinching, her own trained eyes set firmly on the horizon, already plotting a course to the fairgrounds out in her mind. Stars refract within the glossy green visage of her goggles and he can't help but feel a hint of pride swelling in his gut. Dangerous.
Gunfire blares behind them, Yindel and her troops shooting wild. Bullets whizzing as the wind begins to howl around them. The glider picks up speed. Lead ricochets off of the metallic underside with a sound like otherworldly rainfall even as the harnesses deploy with a mechanical whoosh. They lift themselves up over the bars and strap in. Kelley fumbles with the buckle, but she's nimble. She'll manage.
Arrogant.
A stray bullet tears clean through the nylon belt, severs it in two. The spark of another ricochet explodes close enough to make her jolt, lose focus. Her balance is thrown. And suddenly she's falling.
He doesn't think- there's no time- as his hand lunges desperately for hers. It engulfs her palm, swallows it whole. A scream peals from her mouth, short and mortified. He's growling with effort, his ancient body fighting an uphill battle against his iron mind. Her eyes meet his, and in them he can see the sky painted flush with terror.
In that moment he thinks of Jason. Irrelevant.
Her glove slides through his fingertips, and his stomach drops. She plummets, freefalling for nearly half a second, and he can only agonize, his thoughts racing as his heart pounds in his ears. Nothing he does now will save her before she reaches the pavement. Pressure mounts, pops like chewing gum.
His cowl abruptly tightens, strangling his neck as her weight drags along the length of his cape. Her hands cling frantically to the fabric, struggling for purchase. Panic floods every inch of her and he can feel it pumping in his veins like a second heartbeat. Turning himself around on the handlebar in order to face her, he yanks the cloth upward, reeling her closer.
When he finally manages to hoist her onto his shoulder, there's a pause. A shallow reprieve. The bulletstorm subsides and softens to a static echo far away and behind them, the whirring noise of the engine running and wind whipping all that remains as Robin glances back down at the miles-long fall she just narrowly evaded. He makes as though to help her back to her place stationed at his side, but she wraps him into a hug so tight that it suffocates him. Her nails rake his back from beneath the leather of her gloves, and he can feel her shuddering like a leaf in the cold night breeze. A rasping, hollow sound croaks from her throat- a cry of distress, human and girlish- as she breathes heavy against his chest, but she doesn't cry. He sighs past her body latched tightly onto his and holds her dearly back.
"Good soldier," he says. His arms pull taut around her meager frame, trying vainly, stupidly to shield her from elements, protect her from the world. Selfish.
Even so, he never lets go. "Good soldier."
