The members of Young Justice stood outside their complex, each one
motionless as statues. Before them stood Batman, Dark Knight of legend,
whose dark, cowled visage struck fear into the hearts of both criminals and
heroes alike. The night wind blew softly, like the darkness was trying to
whisper something that went unheard. The wilderness around them cried in
languages unrecognizable, and the stars twinkled with the life of the
billions and billions of planets that circled them. But the silence was
there, with them, like a void. Like the silence of a graveyard.
"Where is ROBIN?!?" Batman again said, his voice making his question seem more like a command. None of them spoke, afraid of what there ignorance as to his whereabouts would ignite in the Bat.
Finally, Impulse, the more daring of them all, spoke. "He was heading off into Gotham City. At least, that's the direction he was heading when I last tried to chase him down."
Batman strode forward, looming over the Lad of Lightning. "WHY did he go to Gotham City?"
"We don't know!" Cissie said, trying to speak up in her teammate's defense. "They say he just took off.
"People don't just `take off'!" Batman shot back. "I told him to stick around here. He didn't. I want to know why. What happened yesterday? Why did he leave? Where is he now?" He shot off questions randomly, fully knowing that no one would answer them, but meaning to get a point across.
"He got some weird thing yesterday," Superboy said.
"What weird thing?" Batman said, almost on top of the Boy of Tomorrow.
"This thing," Impulse said, disappearing and reappearing instantly. He held in his hand a piece of lavender cloth. The very cloth that Robin was given yesterday.
"Imp, where did you find that?" Secret asked.
"In the hanger. He must have dropped it when he took off in his car." Impulse moved close to Batman. "Do you know what it is? What it means?"
Batman held up the mask, extending it between his fingers as he held it in the air. He stared grimly at the image of a smiley face, etched in human blood, on the face of the mask.
"Joker," he said darkly, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"WHOA!" Impulse said, jumping back. "It can't be!"
"How can you tell?" Traya asked, confused.
"It's his style," he said, thrusting the mask into an empty compartment in his utility belt. He began to walk away, when he stopped suddenly. His shoulders, for a moment, tensed, then slumped, revealing a more human side to the Batman that none of them had ever seen. They saw truly the weight which he bore on his back. And as he turned to them, for one brief moment, they saw not a dark creature of the night, or a purveyor of justice.
They saw a man.
"I need your help," he said silently. "You say he's in Gotham City. I know it like the back of my hand. Given time, I could find him on my own. But time is something we do not have. It's a couple days until New Years. And if we don't find The Joker by then, Robin, as well as countless millions, will be dead." He paused, then, his head held low and to the side, he spoke silently once more. "I've already lost two Robin's to that madman. I couldn't bear to lose a third."
The group stood silent for a moment, taken aback at the whole candor of the situation, as well as Batman's sudden humanity. The sound of a pin drop would have been like the thundering of elephant feet there. After what seemed like an eternity's worth of deafness, Lil' Lobo was the first to speak.
"Aw, what the frag," he said, a Calvin-esque smile breaking across his face. "Sounds like fun. Just as long as I can rip this Joker guy a new one, ya can count the Top Teen in!"
"Me too!" Secret said, flying beside Lobo and Batman. "Robin's always been there for me in the past. Now it's my turn to be there for him."
The rest of the group; Tornado, Superboy, Wonder Girl, Empress, Cissie, Impulse, and Traya, simply stood there, still unable to take it all in. Finally Red Tornado, with Traya holding his hand tightly, walked up to the Dark Knight and, slowly, extended his hand.
"I think I speak for the rest of the group when I say you have our full support." Batman took his hand and, in a thankful manner, shook it. And, for one brief moment, the group could see Batman smile. A weak, beaten smile, but a smile nonetheless.
But, as soon as it came, the moment was gone, and Batman was back to his stout, cold-hearted self.
"Follow me back to Gotham," he commanded. "We'll formulate a plan once there."
"Alright!" Lobo said. "Action time! By the way, who is this Joker chump?"
"Trust me," Impulse said, "you don't wanna know."
"I'm going to drop Traya off with her mother," Tornado said. "I'll meet you there." And, with his adoptive daughter in his arms, he flew off into the air.
The rest of the group made there way to the hanger to follow suit in the Super Cycle, when Wonder Girl looked back to see Cissie just standing there, not following.
"You commin' Ciss?" Wonder Girl asked. Cissie looked down, away from her friend, and for a brief minute contemplated joining her comrades in the hunt for their missing leader, and the only one who stood behind her in her decision to leave the group. The one person who understood what it's like to want to be normal again.
"No, you go on ahead," she said silently, ashamedly. "It's not my place. Not anymore." She turned her back to her friend, who looked as though she wanted to speak up, to argue the point. But time, as Batman said, was of the essence. So, with the thoughts of her friend seemingly abandoning them, she flew off to join the rest of the group.
The former Arrowette slumped down on the steps, just outside the doors of their base. In the sky she could hear the sounds of the Super Cycle taking flight, and in the distance hear the deep rumblings of the Batmobile's engines. As she sat there, the silence of the night creeping around her, she suddenly noticed that she still held in her right hand Robin's gift, still wrapped in its package, just waiting to be opened by him.
She buried her head between her hands, and began to sob.
**********************************************
Five days before New Years:
Robin could feel the rising and setting of the sun around him, the markage of time's passage, even though he was surrounded by perpetual darkness. He chuckled a bit at that though, although he did not know HOW he could be finding anything funny at a time like this. Stress will do that to you, he guessed.
His face was swelled. The bleeding had ceased long ago. The crimson was dried over his skin, itching and crackling as he worked his jaw around, and worked his gag off. He could feel that the blood had streamed down his hair, too. It was all stiff, and the stench overwhelmed his nostrils, which were covered with the putrid stuff. Scabs had finally formed around the chunks of skin that were harshly torn away by the Joker. He grimaced as he recalled each swipe of the blade, each tear of his flesh from his face. He would be scarred for life, he knew that. Not even the best plastic surgeons Bruce's money could buy could fix this kind of damage.
He tried to work the binds that held his hands firm behind him, tried to wiggle his feet, to gain some leverage to free himself. To find Spoiler. But he suddenly felt very tired and oh so weak.
He finally noticed he was hungry.
Sweat began to form off his brow, moistening the blood caked on his forehead. So tired, so very tired.
His body swayed back and forth in his dark prison. His body was sore from all the blood that had been rushing up to his head. His muscles ached from inactivity, and his wrists and ankles chafed from the lining of the ropes. He tried to imagine ways of getting out, of freeing himself. The sounds of his sweat dropping to the cold concrete below him resounded like buckets of water being dropped around his ears. He could faintly make out the soft stench of mold, could hear the creaking of the beam which his rope was tied around. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark around them, but were so tired. He was so tired.
How long had it been? He couldn't be THAT disoriented. Couldn't be. But the soft smell of mold was getting to him. And it was so hot.
He heard something sudden. The sound of footsteps. Coming closer. He instinctively reached for his utility belt, but suddenly realized that, with his hands bound so tightly, he couldn't get to it. Not that it mattered: The Joker had removed it a long time ago.
A door creaked, and a burst of light pierced his retina. Grimacing, he reeled back from the brightness. He could make out the dark silhouette of a female, carrying a tray of food. She jingled as she walked, and whistled a bouncy song, which sounded almost like a carrousel song.
"Har...Harlequin?" he said weakly.
"Yeah, it's me," she said quietly. "Mr. Jay stepped out for a bit, so I figured you might like some food. Are ya hungry?"
Robin nodded. So, carefully, she began to feed him a piece of homemade bread. He bit into it slowly, expecting glass pieces or a razor, but was happily surprised to find it had none of those qualities. And he knew it wouldn't have poison. The Joker wanted to torture him first, that he knew for sure.
"Boy, you are hungry, aren't ya?" she said as she noticed him greedily scarf down the bread. He choked down his first mouthful, finding it hard to swallow, seeing as how he had to eat upside down.
"Whatsa matter?" she asked, seemingly concerned.
"Let me down," he said, gasping for breath.
"But...but I can't," she stammered. "Puddin'..."
"I can't eat upside down. Please." He pleaded with her. "Please. I swear I won't attack you."
"You promise?" she said. Robin nodded, and so she complied. He couldn't see where she disappeared to, and nearly expected her to tease him by dropping him into his plate of food, then hoisting him back up. But the sudden sensation of being lowered SLOWLY to the ground dissuaded any thoughts of her being so vicious.
"Better?" she asked. He nodded, and she began feeding him again.
This was the first time Robin had been this close to her, without her trying to kill him, of course. He could finally see the subtle contours of her face. The innocent way of smiling she had when she saw him enjoying the food she had made. Even the odd way of giggling, even if it did have a slight hint of menace to it. He began to wonder what she must have been like, before Joker twisted and rotted her psyche until it matched his own. In her eyes he thought he could see a trapped child, screaming to get out, for the pain to stop.
"Boy, you musta liked my meal," she said, smiling. Robin nodded, allowing a slight smile across his face. She laughed a bit. "I didn't think you Bat types ever smiled." Her face grew sad, though, as she stared at his face.
"What's wrong?" Robin asked, trying to be helpful despite the surroundings.
"I'm...sorry, for the way Mr. Jay roughed you up yesterday. He means well, it's just...." her voice, as well as her mind, seemed to trail off to wherever it goes to when she tried to forget the pain Joker had caused her.
"He's a lunatic, Harl," Robin said. "He doesn't care for anyone but himself."
"LIES!" she screamed. "He cares for me! He even said so!"
"When?" He asked. She didn't answer, opting to turn away.
"Look, Harley," he pleaded. "Look at me. Just look at me." She stayed where she was for a moment, then reluctantly turned to face him. She saw his face, torn apart like raw hamburger, his hair mangled and stained with blood and sweat. His cheeks were awash with his tears of pain and anguish, and his skin, or what was not mauled beyond recognition, was soiled and pale. A tear began to form under her eyes.
"Look what he did to me. Look how he treats you. Look how he treats others. All he cares about is his own enjoyment. He only keeps you around because you're his toy, and he likes to play with you. But once he's done, he'll finish you off. Just like he'll finish me off." She tore away from him, beginning to sob. He got to his feet, and hobbled over to her, slowly so as not to startle her away.
`So much pain, so much torment. My God, how he must mistreat her.'
"Listen, Harley," he said, gently turning her towards him with his bound hands. "I need to find Spoiler. I need to get her out of here. Will you help me?"
She looked at him, deep into his eyes. For a moment, he thought she was looking through his mask to see the face that lie underneath. For a moment he thought he had gotten through to her.
"NO!" she screamed, and, reeling back, struck hard with the metal food tray. Robin yelped in pain, the cold metal aggravating every wound on his face. He fell to the cold hard ground, and could barely see Harleyquinn rush off, sobbing in disbelief, a lost soul never to be found.
The smell of mold rushed in his nose, then the darkness reclaimed him.
*******************************************
For a moment he thought he was still hanging upside down. But as he slowly came to, he realized that the throbbing in his head was because a piece of metal had been bent against his skull. He slowly rose to his feet, his hands braced up against the concrete floor. He coughed, and a tooth came out.
"Great," he said. "Just great." He rose up and began to brush himself off, when he noticed something odd. He was no longer untied. Across the room, draped over a folding chair, was his utility belt. On it was attached a note. It read as such:
Robin, She's on the roof. This is all I can do to help you.
H.Q.
"Thank you Harley," Robin whispered as he clipped his belt around his waist. He touched the door, and it creaked open a bit. Unlocked. Good. He HAD gotten through to her.
He made his way as fast as he could, trying as hard as possible not to make any noise. The steps were many, and the weakness in his legs made it feel like he was carrying bags of lead up the stairs with him.
He made his way to the door and, carefully, opened it up. The sudden rush of free air excited his skin. It was cold, and burned against his sore wounds. But he did not care. For a brief second, he forgot what he had come upstairs to do. But, ahead of him, tied firmly to a post near the building's edge, was Spoiler. She was in her costume, which was tattered and torn, and stained deeply with crimson. He looked carefully, wary of another trap. But her blond hair, sifting gently in the wind, relieved him. It was her, on that there was no doubt.
He made his way over to her quickly, making sure that there was no way it could be a trap, but urgently trying to reach the woman he cared for. The woman he loved.
He had long kept his identity from her, he thought to himself. As he quickly ran to her, the thoughts of how greedy he had been, keeping the biggest part of himself from her, echoed through his head. But as he approached her, he made an appoint to change all that. To be more open to her. To care for her more. To show her that he loved her. He would hide nothing from her anymore. There would no longer be any secrets.
"Steph, I'm here to get you out," he said. He walked around to face her, to look her once again in the eyes and tell her it would be alright.
Her eyes were gone. In their place were empty sockets where the birds had pecked them out. Her face was pale, white as the snow and covered in frost. Her lips were cracked, and a small trickle of blood was frozen at the side of her mouth. Her head hung slightly to the left, her hair no longer like a blanket of gold, but like matted straw. And her face. Oh God, her face. Her face was stretched, the skin inhumanly pulled from the bone. And she was smiling. A hideous, pale lipped, wide-toothed smile clear from ear to ear. The smile of a corpse.
Robin tried to scream, but could not find the breath to. The wind howled around him, like the wail of a banshee. He began to panic, fumbling his way away from her, away from her dead smile. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he rocked back and forth in front of the motionless body of the love of his life. Alive no more. He tried to speak, to say something, but the tears got in the way. He grief overwhelmed him, like the world had caved in around him.
In the background of his beating heart, against his throbbing head, he could hear someone chuckling. The chuckling steadily grew to a slight laugh. But then it roared into an inhuman belly laugh, screeching like nails against a chalkboard though his ears.
Out from the door walked the Joker. He, too, was grinning the smile of a corpse. But, unlike Steph, he was a walking corpse, no longer alive to the pain and suffering of people. No. He was a walking vampire, sucking the life from anyone and everyone just to sate his ghastly sense of humor.
Beside him, arm and arm, stood Harlequin, cooing like a child. She had played him. They had both played him like a cheep fiddle. And he knew they weren't finished playing.
He wheeled around, and began to leap off the building's edge, hoping to escape to freedom.
"I don't think so, Birdie!" Harlequin said, as she pressed a small button. In mid air Robin could feel a surge of electricity course through his body.
Seven seconds before he hit the ground, he knew his belt had been rigged.
Five seconds before he hit the ground, he realized that Steph had been dead LONG before he had come looking for her.
Three seconds before he hit the ground, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to escape from this one.
One second before he hit the ground, he thought he could feel Joker's hot breath against the back of his neck, laughing at him.
As he hit the cold pavement below him, his ribs cracking and his body going limp, he could see Steph's beautiful smile, as he had always known it.
He would never see that same smile again....
"Where is ROBIN?!?" Batman again said, his voice making his question seem more like a command. None of them spoke, afraid of what there ignorance as to his whereabouts would ignite in the Bat.
Finally, Impulse, the more daring of them all, spoke. "He was heading off into Gotham City. At least, that's the direction he was heading when I last tried to chase him down."
Batman strode forward, looming over the Lad of Lightning. "WHY did he go to Gotham City?"
"We don't know!" Cissie said, trying to speak up in her teammate's defense. "They say he just took off.
"People don't just `take off'!" Batman shot back. "I told him to stick around here. He didn't. I want to know why. What happened yesterday? Why did he leave? Where is he now?" He shot off questions randomly, fully knowing that no one would answer them, but meaning to get a point across.
"He got some weird thing yesterday," Superboy said.
"What weird thing?" Batman said, almost on top of the Boy of Tomorrow.
"This thing," Impulse said, disappearing and reappearing instantly. He held in his hand a piece of lavender cloth. The very cloth that Robin was given yesterday.
"Imp, where did you find that?" Secret asked.
"In the hanger. He must have dropped it when he took off in his car." Impulse moved close to Batman. "Do you know what it is? What it means?"
Batman held up the mask, extending it between his fingers as he held it in the air. He stared grimly at the image of a smiley face, etched in human blood, on the face of the mask.
"Joker," he said darkly, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"WHOA!" Impulse said, jumping back. "It can't be!"
"How can you tell?" Traya asked, confused.
"It's his style," he said, thrusting the mask into an empty compartment in his utility belt. He began to walk away, when he stopped suddenly. His shoulders, for a moment, tensed, then slumped, revealing a more human side to the Batman that none of them had ever seen. They saw truly the weight which he bore on his back. And as he turned to them, for one brief moment, they saw not a dark creature of the night, or a purveyor of justice.
They saw a man.
"I need your help," he said silently. "You say he's in Gotham City. I know it like the back of my hand. Given time, I could find him on my own. But time is something we do not have. It's a couple days until New Years. And if we don't find The Joker by then, Robin, as well as countless millions, will be dead." He paused, then, his head held low and to the side, he spoke silently once more. "I've already lost two Robin's to that madman. I couldn't bear to lose a third."
The group stood silent for a moment, taken aback at the whole candor of the situation, as well as Batman's sudden humanity. The sound of a pin drop would have been like the thundering of elephant feet there. After what seemed like an eternity's worth of deafness, Lil' Lobo was the first to speak.
"Aw, what the frag," he said, a Calvin-esque smile breaking across his face. "Sounds like fun. Just as long as I can rip this Joker guy a new one, ya can count the Top Teen in!"
"Me too!" Secret said, flying beside Lobo and Batman. "Robin's always been there for me in the past. Now it's my turn to be there for him."
The rest of the group; Tornado, Superboy, Wonder Girl, Empress, Cissie, Impulse, and Traya, simply stood there, still unable to take it all in. Finally Red Tornado, with Traya holding his hand tightly, walked up to the Dark Knight and, slowly, extended his hand.
"I think I speak for the rest of the group when I say you have our full support." Batman took his hand and, in a thankful manner, shook it. And, for one brief moment, the group could see Batman smile. A weak, beaten smile, but a smile nonetheless.
But, as soon as it came, the moment was gone, and Batman was back to his stout, cold-hearted self.
"Follow me back to Gotham," he commanded. "We'll formulate a plan once there."
"Alright!" Lobo said. "Action time! By the way, who is this Joker chump?"
"Trust me," Impulse said, "you don't wanna know."
"I'm going to drop Traya off with her mother," Tornado said. "I'll meet you there." And, with his adoptive daughter in his arms, he flew off into the air.
The rest of the group made there way to the hanger to follow suit in the Super Cycle, when Wonder Girl looked back to see Cissie just standing there, not following.
"You commin' Ciss?" Wonder Girl asked. Cissie looked down, away from her friend, and for a brief minute contemplated joining her comrades in the hunt for their missing leader, and the only one who stood behind her in her decision to leave the group. The one person who understood what it's like to want to be normal again.
"No, you go on ahead," she said silently, ashamedly. "It's not my place. Not anymore." She turned her back to her friend, who looked as though she wanted to speak up, to argue the point. But time, as Batman said, was of the essence. So, with the thoughts of her friend seemingly abandoning them, she flew off to join the rest of the group.
The former Arrowette slumped down on the steps, just outside the doors of their base. In the sky she could hear the sounds of the Super Cycle taking flight, and in the distance hear the deep rumblings of the Batmobile's engines. As she sat there, the silence of the night creeping around her, she suddenly noticed that she still held in her right hand Robin's gift, still wrapped in its package, just waiting to be opened by him.
She buried her head between her hands, and began to sob.
**********************************************
Five days before New Years:
Robin could feel the rising and setting of the sun around him, the markage of time's passage, even though he was surrounded by perpetual darkness. He chuckled a bit at that though, although he did not know HOW he could be finding anything funny at a time like this. Stress will do that to you, he guessed.
His face was swelled. The bleeding had ceased long ago. The crimson was dried over his skin, itching and crackling as he worked his jaw around, and worked his gag off. He could feel that the blood had streamed down his hair, too. It was all stiff, and the stench overwhelmed his nostrils, which were covered with the putrid stuff. Scabs had finally formed around the chunks of skin that were harshly torn away by the Joker. He grimaced as he recalled each swipe of the blade, each tear of his flesh from his face. He would be scarred for life, he knew that. Not even the best plastic surgeons Bruce's money could buy could fix this kind of damage.
He tried to work the binds that held his hands firm behind him, tried to wiggle his feet, to gain some leverage to free himself. To find Spoiler. But he suddenly felt very tired and oh so weak.
He finally noticed he was hungry.
Sweat began to form off his brow, moistening the blood caked on his forehead. So tired, so very tired.
His body swayed back and forth in his dark prison. His body was sore from all the blood that had been rushing up to his head. His muscles ached from inactivity, and his wrists and ankles chafed from the lining of the ropes. He tried to imagine ways of getting out, of freeing himself. The sounds of his sweat dropping to the cold concrete below him resounded like buckets of water being dropped around his ears. He could faintly make out the soft stench of mold, could hear the creaking of the beam which his rope was tied around. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark around them, but were so tired. He was so tired.
How long had it been? He couldn't be THAT disoriented. Couldn't be. But the soft smell of mold was getting to him. And it was so hot.
He heard something sudden. The sound of footsteps. Coming closer. He instinctively reached for his utility belt, but suddenly realized that, with his hands bound so tightly, he couldn't get to it. Not that it mattered: The Joker had removed it a long time ago.
A door creaked, and a burst of light pierced his retina. Grimacing, he reeled back from the brightness. He could make out the dark silhouette of a female, carrying a tray of food. She jingled as she walked, and whistled a bouncy song, which sounded almost like a carrousel song.
"Har...Harlequin?" he said weakly.
"Yeah, it's me," she said quietly. "Mr. Jay stepped out for a bit, so I figured you might like some food. Are ya hungry?"
Robin nodded. So, carefully, she began to feed him a piece of homemade bread. He bit into it slowly, expecting glass pieces or a razor, but was happily surprised to find it had none of those qualities. And he knew it wouldn't have poison. The Joker wanted to torture him first, that he knew for sure.
"Boy, you are hungry, aren't ya?" she said as she noticed him greedily scarf down the bread. He choked down his first mouthful, finding it hard to swallow, seeing as how he had to eat upside down.
"Whatsa matter?" she asked, seemingly concerned.
"Let me down," he said, gasping for breath.
"But...but I can't," she stammered. "Puddin'..."
"I can't eat upside down. Please." He pleaded with her. "Please. I swear I won't attack you."
"You promise?" she said. Robin nodded, and so she complied. He couldn't see where she disappeared to, and nearly expected her to tease him by dropping him into his plate of food, then hoisting him back up. But the sudden sensation of being lowered SLOWLY to the ground dissuaded any thoughts of her being so vicious.
"Better?" she asked. He nodded, and she began feeding him again.
This was the first time Robin had been this close to her, without her trying to kill him, of course. He could finally see the subtle contours of her face. The innocent way of smiling she had when she saw him enjoying the food she had made. Even the odd way of giggling, even if it did have a slight hint of menace to it. He began to wonder what she must have been like, before Joker twisted and rotted her psyche until it matched his own. In her eyes he thought he could see a trapped child, screaming to get out, for the pain to stop.
"Boy, you musta liked my meal," she said, smiling. Robin nodded, allowing a slight smile across his face. She laughed a bit. "I didn't think you Bat types ever smiled." Her face grew sad, though, as she stared at his face.
"What's wrong?" Robin asked, trying to be helpful despite the surroundings.
"I'm...sorry, for the way Mr. Jay roughed you up yesterday. He means well, it's just...." her voice, as well as her mind, seemed to trail off to wherever it goes to when she tried to forget the pain Joker had caused her.
"He's a lunatic, Harl," Robin said. "He doesn't care for anyone but himself."
"LIES!" she screamed. "He cares for me! He even said so!"
"When?" He asked. She didn't answer, opting to turn away.
"Look, Harley," he pleaded. "Look at me. Just look at me." She stayed where she was for a moment, then reluctantly turned to face him. She saw his face, torn apart like raw hamburger, his hair mangled and stained with blood and sweat. His cheeks were awash with his tears of pain and anguish, and his skin, or what was not mauled beyond recognition, was soiled and pale. A tear began to form under her eyes.
"Look what he did to me. Look how he treats you. Look how he treats others. All he cares about is his own enjoyment. He only keeps you around because you're his toy, and he likes to play with you. But once he's done, he'll finish you off. Just like he'll finish me off." She tore away from him, beginning to sob. He got to his feet, and hobbled over to her, slowly so as not to startle her away.
`So much pain, so much torment. My God, how he must mistreat her.'
"Listen, Harley," he said, gently turning her towards him with his bound hands. "I need to find Spoiler. I need to get her out of here. Will you help me?"
She looked at him, deep into his eyes. For a moment, he thought she was looking through his mask to see the face that lie underneath. For a moment he thought he had gotten through to her.
"NO!" she screamed, and, reeling back, struck hard with the metal food tray. Robin yelped in pain, the cold metal aggravating every wound on his face. He fell to the cold hard ground, and could barely see Harleyquinn rush off, sobbing in disbelief, a lost soul never to be found.
The smell of mold rushed in his nose, then the darkness reclaimed him.
*******************************************
For a moment he thought he was still hanging upside down. But as he slowly came to, he realized that the throbbing in his head was because a piece of metal had been bent against his skull. He slowly rose to his feet, his hands braced up against the concrete floor. He coughed, and a tooth came out.
"Great," he said. "Just great." He rose up and began to brush himself off, when he noticed something odd. He was no longer untied. Across the room, draped over a folding chair, was his utility belt. On it was attached a note. It read as such:
Robin, She's on the roof. This is all I can do to help you.
H.Q.
"Thank you Harley," Robin whispered as he clipped his belt around his waist. He touched the door, and it creaked open a bit. Unlocked. Good. He HAD gotten through to her.
He made his way as fast as he could, trying as hard as possible not to make any noise. The steps were many, and the weakness in his legs made it feel like he was carrying bags of lead up the stairs with him.
He made his way to the door and, carefully, opened it up. The sudden rush of free air excited his skin. It was cold, and burned against his sore wounds. But he did not care. For a brief second, he forgot what he had come upstairs to do. But, ahead of him, tied firmly to a post near the building's edge, was Spoiler. She was in her costume, which was tattered and torn, and stained deeply with crimson. He looked carefully, wary of another trap. But her blond hair, sifting gently in the wind, relieved him. It was her, on that there was no doubt.
He made his way over to her quickly, making sure that there was no way it could be a trap, but urgently trying to reach the woman he cared for. The woman he loved.
He had long kept his identity from her, he thought to himself. As he quickly ran to her, the thoughts of how greedy he had been, keeping the biggest part of himself from her, echoed through his head. But as he approached her, he made an appoint to change all that. To be more open to her. To care for her more. To show her that he loved her. He would hide nothing from her anymore. There would no longer be any secrets.
"Steph, I'm here to get you out," he said. He walked around to face her, to look her once again in the eyes and tell her it would be alright.
Her eyes were gone. In their place were empty sockets where the birds had pecked them out. Her face was pale, white as the snow and covered in frost. Her lips were cracked, and a small trickle of blood was frozen at the side of her mouth. Her head hung slightly to the left, her hair no longer like a blanket of gold, but like matted straw. And her face. Oh God, her face. Her face was stretched, the skin inhumanly pulled from the bone. And she was smiling. A hideous, pale lipped, wide-toothed smile clear from ear to ear. The smile of a corpse.
Robin tried to scream, but could not find the breath to. The wind howled around him, like the wail of a banshee. He began to panic, fumbling his way away from her, away from her dead smile. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he rocked back and forth in front of the motionless body of the love of his life. Alive no more. He tried to speak, to say something, but the tears got in the way. He grief overwhelmed him, like the world had caved in around him.
In the background of his beating heart, against his throbbing head, he could hear someone chuckling. The chuckling steadily grew to a slight laugh. But then it roared into an inhuman belly laugh, screeching like nails against a chalkboard though his ears.
Out from the door walked the Joker. He, too, was grinning the smile of a corpse. But, unlike Steph, he was a walking corpse, no longer alive to the pain and suffering of people. No. He was a walking vampire, sucking the life from anyone and everyone just to sate his ghastly sense of humor.
Beside him, arm and arm, stood Harlequin, cooing like a child. She had played him. They had both played him like a cheep fiddle. And he knew they weren't finished playing.
He wheeled around, and began to leap off the building's edge, hoping to escape to freedom.
"I don't think so, Birdie!" Harlequin said, as she pressed a small button. In mid air Robin could feel a surge of electricity course through his body.
Seven seconds before he hit the ground, he knew his belt had been rigged.
Five seconds before he hit the ground, he realized that Steph had been dead LONG before he had come looking for her.
Three seconds before he hit the ground, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to escape from this one.
One second before he hit the ground, he thought he could feel Joker's hot breath against the back of his neck, laughing at him.
As he hit the cold pavement below him, his ribs cracking and his body going limp, he could see Steph's beautiful smile, as he had always known it.
He would never see that same smile again....