Outside the museum
The museum was surrounded by a virtual sea of law enforcement. Both uniformed and plain-clothed officers swarmed between patrol cars, SWAT vans, and checkpoints. More than half the officers had weapons trained on the museum, and the SWAT teams in full garb were growing antsy in their haphazard clusters. For them, deployment usually meant taking action, not waiting for the action to come to them; but that's what their orders were, because for as long as the status quo remained unchanged, their commander was content to take his orders from Captain Booker.
It gave the snipers the chance to get into position.
From her relatively sheltered surveillance point, Batgirl began to gain a newfound appreciation for her father's leadership. The NYPD's efforts could be described as overly cautious at best and severely disorganized at worst. Deciding to save lives by waiting for a criminal to come to them might have been a respectable decision under any other circumstance, but Batgirl knew that you cannot give Harvey Dent that kind of advantage and expect to win. You may stop him from stealing the exhibit, but you can bet your life that he has a far better plan of escape than riding out with the truck. Unfortunately, it appeared as though whoever was in charge did not share the same views.
Batgirl was all too aware of the jurisdictional turf wars that plagued joint law enforcement operations. Her father has complained about it often enough, especially when it involved the attempted apprehension one of Gotham's infamous rogues. Time and again the feds proved too ill equipped to handle the task and if it weren't for the Bat crew's clandestine involvement in those instances the consequences—and the death tolls, would have been disastrous. The feds effectively put their own careers above the greater good because they were arrogant enough to believe that they had all the answers. It boiled her blood to think that they wanted credit and praise for something that her father and his officers suffer through without fanfare, and so she has inherited her father's knee-jerk mistrust of any federal agent in charge of an investigation.
Unfortunately, Robin had assigned her to liaise with them.
Batgirl bristled. How on Earth was she supposed to mange that without getting shot at and/or arrested?
Well, first she would have to find them.
Batgirl kept to the shadows and surveyed the crowd, her eyes resting momentarily on each plain-clothed person out there but dismissing them instantly. Federal agents carried themselves differently than police officers did—or at the very least, they dressed better. However, she saw no one fitting that description in any location that might have served as the command base. In fact, it looked to her that a cop was in charge—a captain, by the look of his hat. If the feds were in charge of this operation then why weren't they looking the part?
Batgirl released a frustrated sigh. Robin said they were out here somewhere, and though she questioned how he knew that, she wasn't about to disbelieve him. No, the feds were here. She just had to find them…
There!
Batgirl's eyes widened as they zeroed in on her target. A man in a long dark coat was standing apart from the rest and arguing heatedly into his cell phone. At this distance she couldn't make out the conversation, but the look fit. Not to mention that federal agents are known for being openly hostile and indignant if their right to declare jurisdiction was called into question. That would explain why everyone was taking orders from a mere police captain. Jurisdiction or not, the NYPD had their own ideas of who should be in charge, and they follow their own.
Batgirl nodded to herself and reached into her utility belt. For every added danger that being the commissioner's daughter brought to her vigilantism, there was an added bonus. A few months ago she had 'liberated' a few electronic devices from police surplus. After removing everything that labeled the electronics as having ever belonged to the GCPD and hacking the surplus database to remove the evidence of a shortage, Batgirl had labored tirelessly in a quick-job clean-room environment in her walk-in closet on a case modification that would have made even Batman proud had she actually shown it to him. Now she had what appeared to be an overlarge flip phone with headset that reported the number of a payphone in St. Louis; however it was also equipped with a signal tracer and de-scrambler. She pointed the antenna at the federal agent and pressed a button. The display screen blinked a few times and then, digit by digit, the agent's cell phone number blipped onto the screen.
Half a minute later and the agent hung up his phone in apparent disgust. As soon as he did so Batgirl dialed the number.
"Hernandez!" A deep voice barked through the earpiece.
"Special Agent Hernandez?" Batgirl asked with mild yet emotionless inflection. She watched as he jerked the phone away from his ear. He studied the call information and made a face at the number.
"Who is this?" he asked incredulously.
"Send uniforms to the loading bay," Batgirl directed, ignoring his question. "You will find three criminals apprehended beside a box truck, one inside the truck's cab, and two in the trailer."
"What—"
Batgirl continued as if he hadn't spoken. "The truck will need to be towed and be advised that some of the criminals will need medical attention."
Hernandez's eyes widened. "You're with Batman, aren't you. Are you Batgirl?"
After a few moments of silence he checked his phone. The call had already ended.
Batgirl heard him curse from her hiding spot, but after a few moments Hernandez wandered off, presumably to see to it that the six thugs by the loading dock were taken care of. Batgirl smiled, pleased with herself and her accomplishments, but the smile quickly fell. Robin had ordered her to stay outside of the museum.
Batgirl seethed at that. Short Pants giving her orders? Following his lead in a fight is one thing—that was teamwork; but him ordering her around like she was some sort of minion?
"Not in this lifetime," she muttered. No way in hell was she staying out of the fight. Two-Face and God-only-knows how many goons are still inside the museum, and the only one currently in any position to oppose them is Robin. He may be second only to Batman, and he may have been able to hold his own until backup arrived, but now she knew something Robin didn't: backup wasn't coming. His federal agent friend wasn't in charge, and the cavalry wasn't going to charge in to provide much needed assistance—or even a mild diversion.
Robin was most likely holding off Two-Face while waiting for help that wasn't going to come.
Batgirl couldn't deny the knot of worry that suddenly formed in the pit of her stomach, nor how real it suddenly felt now that she knew it was Dick Grayson that was on his own in there.
Barbara Gordon shoved those thoughts aside and glanced back at the museum. If she needed to justify her decision, she could always tell him that the situation had changed since they had parted company and that initiative was called for. However, she didn't really care how much he resented her involvement. When the Bat Boys are in trouble Batgirl's place is at their side, and she wouldn't take no for an order.
She was going in.
The exhibit hall
A black iris opened in the floor and a cloaked figure emerged, safe in the shadow of her soul self and nearly invisible. Raven found herself standing behind an exhibit case near the entrance to the hall, which fortuitously protected her from the incoming fire of Two-Face and his goons.
She wasn't standing for long.
This was the epicenter. Here the emotions were the strongest. Here they didn't swirl about her as she kept herself protected. As soon as she materialized they slammed into her from all sides like converging tidal waves, obliterating every last mental shield and sending her crashing to her knees.
Kneeling, Raven clutched desperately at her temples, trying to regain some modicum of control. "Azarath… Metrion… Nnnng-aaaaaaaaah!"
It was too much. Everything was too much. Too much anger. Too much pain. Too much fear. Raven's face was scrunched up in pain and she moved her hands back to cover her ears in a vain attempt to prevent the emotions from reaching her, as though they were merely a cacophony of loud noise. Her naked soul self buckled under the oppressive weight and her head bowed down to the floor. Raven huddled into a tight little whimpering ball as her soul self cried in agony.
"Ah—Az—Azarath…" she tried to chant, but she couldn't even hear herself over the psychic din. "Azar…" She moaned, as though begging for help from someone she knew couldn't offer it.
As the sprinklers continued their merciless rain, the emotional storm inside the exhibit hall wailed around her, slamming repeatedly into her third eye and knocking her senseless. She had never felt so much emotion so quickly, and all of the progress she had made these past few months at adapting to the presence of abundant human thought and emotion was forgotten.
"Azarath…" She tried again, brushing a strand of wet hair behind her ear from where it had sat plastered to her forehead. The emotions swirled and lashed like streamers in a gale, the cacophonous sound of thought as eloquent as a howling wind to the point where she couldn't even hear herself speak.
The emotions crashed over her in pounding waves or flailed at her like whips. In a repetitive and jumbled rush she felt anger… fear… pain… greed… hatred… desire…
Raven braced herself on her hands and knees. "Nnnngg… M—M—Metrion…"
Beneath the oppressive weight of the storm she struggled to find her center. If she wasn't careful then soon her own emotions would be laid bare to this torment as opposed to just her mind, and the consequences of that—
"Xinthos!"
A pulse of psychic energy flew out of Raven's soul self in a wave, sending water flying outwards from an obsidian bubble that beat back the emotional tide. In that momentary vacuum Raven's soul self felt the echoes of peace and stillness that should have been. They were her lifelines and reached out blindly towards them.
She didn't find them.
Robin descended from his perch in the rafters in the most basic way.
He dropped straight down.
The freefall was incredible. For a few seconds time seemed to stretch into eternity. The air rushed over his ears and sound fell away into imagined silence. His body stretched out, preparing for impact—feet first—every muscle loose and ready to snap into action to absorb the shock of meeting the ground.
A sudden rush and the sound of screeching—the cry of a wounded bird.
SKREEEE!
Gone as quickly as it came.
Robin didn't have time to contemplate it as he suddenly hit the ground. Every muscle tensed as he dropped into a crouch and rolled forward, absorbing the impact over his entire body. He came up right behind the rear-most thug, just as planned. A quick jab to the back of his head and the thug dropped like a sack of potatoes. Robin made quick work of removing the thug's bootlaces and using them to bind his hands and then made the futile gesture of wiping the cold water away from his eye mask.
Only nine to go…
When Robin had suddenly dropped from the sky, dodging bullets to get the drop on a bad guy, at the last second his descent bisected her psychic reach. Raven gasped when suddenly—briefly—her mind touched his.
A rush of deafening silence hit her ears and the swirling sea of emotion calmed. Raven held her breath at the sudden, unexpected change, and she felt—
But just as suddenly Robin slipped through her reach, continuing his descent to the ground and the storm was back again.
Wh—what?
In this sea of violently churning emotions, there was calm. In this deafening din of thought, there was silence. Raven needed to find that place again—needed it for her sanity. In that moment she realized that, however the mysterious pocket of serenity came into being, it would be her temporary salvation.
Wildly her soul self groped around, snatching onto emotions as she felt them and dismissing those that wouldn't help her. She mentally snatched tendrils of feeling out of thin air, desperately searching. She found anger, and it burned her. Fear shrank back away from her. Pain shivered. Greed clutched at her and didn't want to let go. Hatred screamed, lashing out. Desire trembled, and moaned when she released it.
But where was—
There!
Blindly she grasped a hold of what she was looking for. It felt as though she'd just grabbed a live electric wire and Raven's breath left her in a rush. It was hard and unyielding, but it wasn't dark like the rest, and it wasn't subjective. Whoever it belonged to, this emotion was selfish, and took no heed of her presence.
With a yank of the streamer Raven pulled herself towards that mind and found the silence she had detected before.
The eye of the storm… is its calmest point.
Raven's soul self was suddenly floating, weightless. Free.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Raven meditated in that calm silence.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
She felt the wholeness of its purpose.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
She gave herself over to the serenity of its assurance.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
She regained her strength and found her center.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
She drew the bubble of emotion tight in around herself, existing completely within its boundaries.
Azarath…
The bubble became a pocket, and the pocket became a shroud.
Metrion…
Protected, Raven was back in full control, no longer threatened by the onslaught.
Xinthos…
Coming out of her meditative state, Raven reopened her third eye… and gasped. That emotion she had found—the one she had taken up as a shield and embedded herself within for protection. The borrowed feeling she hadn't yet felt until the new moment of conscious awareness she recognized now for what it was.
Determination.
Raven unclenched her body and struggled to her knees, panting heavily as she recovered from the physical manifestations of the onslaught. Finally she sat back on her heels and opened her eyes, truly seeing the exhibit hall for the first time. She saw the chaos and the destruction, the unconscious bodies and those still fighting. She saw the chunks torn from the walls where bullets had impacted…
Then she saw him.
Robin.
He was glowing faintly in her vision, softly illuminating the artificial rain that pelted his body. It was an aftereffect of her touch on his mind that only she could see. Raven sat back on her heels in the puddle that had formed around her, watching him in a mix of awe and feigned understanding. She saw him finish binding an unconscious man's hands with what appeared to be shoelaces, his face set in grim lines as sweat mixed with the water that beaded on his brow.
He was determined. Raven felt it. It sang throughout her entire body. Deliberate silence… and determination.
Ever so slightly, Raven smirked. The presence of the Gotham vigilante gave her the confidence to believe that not all was as lost and hopeless as it felt beneath the surging tide. Instinctively she knew that the famed Boy Wonder would emerge victorious, if only because his determination wouldn't allow anything less, and Raven did not believe for a moment that such determination could be denied. Not when she felt its power first hand.
As Raven saw Robin madly dash between the flying bullets to approach another armed thug, she knew that he was completely oblivious to her presence. The exhibit case hid her well from the room. This was fortuitous because she knew that she needed to stay hidden. Raven felt strength returning to her limbs, galvanized as she was by Robin's determination. Garfield and Victor weren't in this room as she had originally supposed. They were somewhere very close, but not here. She needed to find them—that's what she came here for. She needed to meditate, here in the echoes of Robin's silent mind, fueled, protected, and assured by a determination that (at first) was not her own.
Raven steeled herself, rocking forward on her knees and bringing her hands down to the floor. She was all set to shove herself to standing, but the soft slashing noise caught her attention. Startled, Raven looked down at her hands… and her eyes widened.
The puddle they had softly splashed in had run red...
Outside the museum
Batgirl ran back around to the side of the museum. While she has been to the Met before, she's never seen the Egyptian exhibit and so has no idea where it is. Therefore trying to catch up to the action by charging in through the front door—which was heavily guarded by now anyway—was just about as useless as trying to sneak in through the loading dock. There was only one logical choice: to go through the same window that Robin did. Hopefully he chose it because it led directly to the exhibit hall. Otherwise she would just have to follow the sound of gunfire.
Batgirl readied her grappling gun, aimed at the window ledge, and fired…
The exhibit hall
Raven's palms came away red. She hadn't noticed it before, but blood had run into the puddle she was kneeling in. It couldn't have been hers, so who—
"Unghhh…"
Raven's head snapped around. There was a man lying on the ground, not a foot away from her. He was clutching weakly at his abdomen as blood seeped out through his fingers to spread a dark stain across the water-slicked marble floor. As soon as Raven focused on him his pain danced up and down her nervous system.
"Nnnnng." Raven winced, involuntarily hugging herself.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Mentally she reached out, finding Robin's determination again.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
She wrapped it about her soul self like a security blanket and used it to dispel the other man's pain.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Soon it no longer affected her. She still felt it, but she didn't feel it.
Azarath……… Metrion……… Xinthos...
Raven ceased her mini-meditation and looked to the injured man again. She saw that he was one of the museum guards, and he had taken a bullet to the stomach. Raven felt the echoes of pain within her; stomach acid mixed with the blood and was burning its way out, threatening to corrode the surrounding tissues and organs in a slow process of macabre digestion. An incredibly painful way to die, but mercifully he'd bleed to death first.
Raven's eyes suddenly narrowed. Maybe it was because she still felt enervated by Robin's determination, or maybe it was because Azar would have wanted it, but Raven was suddenly determined not to let this man die. Slowly she crawled to his side, not caring about the blood that now stained her knees and robe. When she reached him she saw that he was barely conscious, twitching slightly from the pain and moaning softly.
"Be still," she directed stoically. She sat back on her heels again, quickly wiped a palm on her soaked robe, and, closing her eyes, touched it to the man's forehead. She cupped the contour of his head softly and instantly his movement stilled.
Raven frowned. He only had a few minutes left.
Azarath……… Metrion……… Xinthos………
Raven sent waves of empathic healing energy into the wounded guard. Mentally she found where the bullet had come to rest and discovered the extent of the damage it had caused. She couldn't remove it easily, and she didn't have time for the concentration that would take, so instead she focused on sealing the hole in his stomach. Mentally she saw tendrils of obsidian form inside the man's abdomen. They latched onto his stomach and knit themselves together, encouraging the tissue to stretch and meld, sealing themselves with the cool heat of telekinesis.
When the hole in his stomach closed, Raven shifted her energies to repairing the damaged blood vessels. There were a lot of them. The smaller ones healed almost instantly, but the larger veins and arteries took a bit of time. When they were all healed, she sent her obsidian energy after the stomach acid, and together they evaporated into nothingness.
There was nothing more she could do for him.
Raven opened her eyes and withdrew her hand. The guard won't die from his injuries now, but he's not out of the woods yet. He'll need surgery to remove the bullet, and he'll die without a transfusion, but now he should last until help can get to him.
At the very least, Raven had sent him into a deep sleep, so he was no longer in pain.
Drained from the exertion, Raven collapsed down into the lotus position. She needed to meditate again. To recover. Once when she was fifteen a bicyclist had been hit by a car in front of her apartment. The woman had suffered a broken leg and several broken ribs, but Raven had been able to heal her. She couldn't set bones as well as a trained doctor, but the woman who haled her an angel was able to make it to the emergency room under her own power. That was the last time she's had to heal someone empathically for something more serious than a paper cut, and it hadn't been as exhausting as this.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Hidden in plain sight Raven slipped back into the comforting embrace of meditation.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
She collected more of Robin's aura to herself and felt her strength slowly return.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
The emotional storm raged on, but hidden and isolated Raven was immune.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Almost strong enough to summon Garfield and Victor into her soul self and port them to safety.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
The villain known as Two-Face grimaced as he loaded the last clip into his machine gun. Across the way the museum guards were still taking potshots at him and his men, but fortunately they hadn't managed to hit anyone.
Unfortunately, neither had his men.
Two-Face glanced behind him as he brought his machine gun up. The little twerp had managed to subdue all but four of his men by now, dropping in from behind them at opportune moments when the incoming fire had them otherwise occupied.
The villain stroked the trigger of the machine gun and weighed his options. On the one hand, the odds of him escaping with what he came fore were rapidly approaching hopeless. If he cut out now—turned tail and ran while the bird was still busy with his hired help, he could stand a decent chance of escaping the clutches of the vastly inept NYPD. Even as a villain, Harvey Dent never lost respect for Jim Gordon's police force, and he knows how poorly others measure up.
Then there was the other side of the coin. Two-Face hates running from a fight. Fleeing from the Batman is humiliating enough, but Robin? The bird? If word of that gets out he'd never be able to show either face around Arkham again.
Of course, the same would hold true if he was apprehended by the NYPD. He might as well be caught in Blüdhaven!
Stay and risk capture, or run and risk capture. Those were his options.
"Only on thing to do," the villain muttered as he fished into his pocket for the infamous coin.
Robin dashed through the incoming bullet fire and crept up behind an unsuspecting thug. Then swiftly and silently he reached out and grabbed the thug in a chokehold from behind. Robin's forearm pressed diligently against the thug's windpipe and the man dropped effortlessly into unconsciousness, his Tommy gun clanging to the floor.
Robin deftly removed the clip, and then set about unlacing the man's Nikes. Twenty seconds later and Robin was crouched beside the bound and unconscious thug, waiting for his next opportunity. There were only four opponents left, including Two-Face. Hopefully the guards won't run out of ammo before he has the chance to take them down.
With grim determination Robin set his sights on the next bad guy, who was an easy handspring's distance ahead, off to the right at one o'clock…
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Hidden behind the display, Raven levitated in the lotus position. She was hovering nearly a foot off the ground, eyes closed in meditation.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Robin's determination was galvanizing. Her strength was well on its way to replenishing itself. Like a seed in a fertile womb, Raven's soul self fed off the Boy Wonder's emotions, used them to nourish her, to replace that which was lost.Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
She was almost completely recovered. Soon her soul self would be sated. Soon she would be strong enough to be confident enough to disentangle her mind from Robin's. Then she could shift her focus outwards, away from herself and towards the psychic signatures of Garfield and Victor, who were still hiding somewhere, close yet out of reach.
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Azarath… Metrion… Xinthos…
Batgirl's grappling hook embedded itself in the masonry of the window ledge. After a quick yank to be sure that it would hold her weight, Batgirl scaled the wall. A swift and silent wraith in the night, she hovered just below the shattered window—shattered from Robin's earlier dramatic entrance.
She easily heard the harsh staccato bursts of gunfire.
"At least this is the right window…" Batgirl murmured to herself, trying somewhat ineffectively to mask her worry. Then with a sigh—somewhere between hopeful and pained, she reached up and around the jagged shards of windowpane to release the lock. That done, Batgirl then pulled the two useless halves of window frame out until they opened wide enough for her to leap through. A quick glance heavenward and Batgirl pulled herself the rest of the way up to the window ledge, getting ready to make an entrance of her own.
The coin flipped in the air and Two-Face snatched it. He turned it over once in his palm and slapped it to the back of his other hand.
"Hmph. Bad side."
Two-Face scowled, but did as the coin dictated.
The Bird was just about to take down another of his thugs, so he was pleasantly distracted, and the irritating guards apparently can't hit the broadside of a barn.
The scowl contorted into an off-kilter smirk. Now was the perfect time.
A wild burst of fire from the machine gun and the villain leapt out from behind his cover, preparing to make a run for it.
Somehow Robin managed to find the only dirty security guard on the face of the Earth that was also an accomplished martial artist. The man had somehow sensed Robin sneaking up behind him. He whirled about to face him, firing his pistol as he went.
Robin dove into a somersault to avoid the shot and came up in prime position to strike out with a fist to the thug's groin.
The thug managed to block Robin's fist just in time, and the blow aimed for his family jewels glanced off and struck his thigh.
The thug grunted and dove into an arcing roll over the Boy Wonder's head. He came out of the somersault in an awkward crouch—slipping some on the wet marble, and managed to aim and fire at where Robin had been squatting a moment before.
Unfortunately for him, Robin was no longer there.
The instant that the thug took to the air, Robin dove to the left. When the thug landed and aimed his pistol Robin already had a birdarang ready. The thug had barely pulled the trigger before he found the gun knocked painfully out of his hand by the deadly projectile. He grabbed his hand, wincing and momentarily stunned to be thusly disarmed.
Robin wanted to make sure he stayed that way. He dove forward, trying to reach the pistol. Unfortunately it landed closer to the thug, who recovered quickly enough to make a dive for the gun as well.
They both grabbed the gun at the same time. The thug's hand found the handle, and Robin was left clutching the barrel.
A half a breath's pause allowed both parties to realize their predicament. Two sets of eyes widened—for two very different reasons.
Then the thug unabashedly pulled the trigger, but a sudden explosion of machinegun fire obscured the sound of the shot.
Batgirl crouched on the window ledge, surveying the scene. Whatever she was expecting, the sight that met her eyes certainly wasn't it.
Someone must have set off the fire alarm, and the sprinklers had soaked everyone and everything in sight. In this indoor storm, Robin had managed to subdue most of Two-Face's goons, and apparently he had help from some of the museum guards, who were now locked in a shootout of sorts with Two-Face and his remaining thugs. The sight of some of those guards trussed up alongside the thugs made Batgirl wonder if there had been some kind of mutiny in the ranks, but that question—just like all the others, would have to wait, because just then Batgirl saw Robin, and gasped.
The Boy Wonder was currently attempting to wrestle an apparent guard-turned-thug for a pistol, quite out in the open and vulnerable to incoming bullet fire from all sides as Two-Face's goons tried to shoot Robin and the museum guards tried to shoot the thug.
Batgirl was all set to dive into the fray when a sudden burst of machinegun fire caught her attention. Two-Face had just left his defensive position, spraying the entire exhibit hall with bullets as he did so.
Robin wrenched the gun out of the thug's hand at the exact same moment that thug managed to pull the trigger. The sensation was not pleasant, but his glove—and hand—would survive the sudden heat hardly the worse for wear.
The shot went wild and the thug tumbled off to the side from the sudden shifting of the kickback from the gun. Robin also fell back, and these simultaneous actions left the two combatants momentarily prone and vulnerable.
The fact was accentuated when they both turned to see the source of the sudden machinegun fire. The guard barked a harsh laugh when he saw that Two-Face now stood—still covered by an exhibit case, with the barrel of his machinegun pointed straight at the Boy Wonder's head.
Robin did have time to think about it. He caught sight of Dent's face, which seemed to smile and sneer in the same bitter breath, and reacted instantly. He threw the pistol with all his might as he would a birdarang straight at the villain's hands, hoping to knock the gun aside, while at the same time diving madly out of the way.
Both the pistol and his body flew at the exact same moment, and the barking of machinegun fire managed to drown out the clanking sound of metal striking metal. It couldn't quite overpower the sound of Two-Face's hideous laugher, however. Nor the sound of Batgirl's sudden shout:
"ROBIN!"
Azarath… Metrion… Xin—GASP!"
Raven's meditation was suddenly jolted, her chanting words suddenly grinding to a stop. Her eyes flew opened, strobing the color of molten pewter before she wrenched them shut again.
The borrowed shroud of safe determination that enveloped her soul self suddenly pulsed, and a searing psychic heat lanced through her manifestation in the astral plane.
The power of that determination increased tenfold, but not under its own power. A sudden surge of emotion rose up like a tidal wave and flooded the hardened serenity she had enclosed herself within.
Raven came crashing out of meditation and landed hard on her knees with a soft splash, her amethyst eyes opening wide.
The real world suddenly assaulted her, both sight and sound snapping harshly into place. Raven inhaled a breath in a sharp hiss as the sensations all vied to register with her brain.
Unfortunately they had stiff competition from her soul self, which was still mostly in control, and still firmly encased in Robin's now-turbulent emotions.
Barbara Gordon's heart leapt into her throat and her shout of warning and denial came out as more of a high-pitched screech. She dove into the exhibit hall, throwing her own batarang to try and knock the gun from Two-Face's hands before he had the chance to pull the trigger.
Events unfolded in slow motion.
Batgirl screamed.
Two-Face pulled the trigger.
Robin dove and Batgirl dove, tossing both gun and batarang at the villain's hands.
The pistol impacted the machine gun and ricocheted up into the air.
Two-Face reflexively let go of the machinegun and the batarang impacted it, sending it flying.
Robin came out of his dive unscathed, and looked up in unveiled surprise over towards the window, where he saw Batgirl completing the somersault she—like him—used to cushion her descent into the exhibit hall.
And time resumed.
Batgirl sprang to a standing position, eyes reflexively darting to Robin to ensure that he wasn't harmed.
Their eyes locked, and so many emotions were conveyed in that moment that neither could discern a single thing.
The spell was broken when Robin jerked his head back around to Two-Face, and his breath caught when he saw that the villain had somehow gained control of the pistol. Robin saw how Two-Face held the gun in an outstretched hand, and half a breath later he realized that the villain was no longer aiming at him.
Robin's strangled gasp escaped without his consent, and his hand had only just grasped a birdarang when Two-Face pulled the trigger.
Batgirl noticed the gun pointed straight at her heart only moments too late, and the only reaction she was afforded was a slight hitch of her breath before—
BLAM!
"NOOOOO!"
It was Robin's voice that screamed, but Raven found her own mouth forming the word as she gazed half-seeing, half-sensing across the impossible breadth of the exhibit hall.
The birdarang flew from Robin's hand in the futile half-second after Two-Face pulled the trigger and Raven felt his emotions rise in crescendo in time with the action. She felt everything from him—the determination now diluted by such things as shock, anger, disbelief, and fear.
Fear.
The last thing one would expect to the Boy Wonder to feel—indeed, the one thing it was rumored super heroes to be incapable of feeling. Robin's painful cry of denial was born of fear, and in the echoing eternity that followed as the sound ripped through the astral plane Raven's third eye was bombarded by a sea of images, too quick and too jumbled for her to process. The one prevailing sight however…
Was red.
FLASH!
A cascade of red hair.
FLASH!
A red costume.
FLASH!
Red blood.
FLASH!
The red-tinted ripples of an echoing scream. The exact same scream, screamed now again for both the same and different reasons.
Raven gasped, seeing red.
Fearing red.
Red stains and—
FLASH!
—red slanted eyes.
FLASH!
NOOOOO!
The scream tore through the suddenly red-hued astral plane, echoing loudly in the exhibit hall, beneath the Big Top, off the hallowed cliffs of Azarath, inside her head.
Inside her soul.
Raven's wide eyes flashed to gray again as she saw her hand fly up of its own accord at the same instant that Robin threw the birdarang.
The birdarang flew into the gun, knocking it away, leaving Robin frozen in pose with fingertips outstretched in desperation.
Just as Raven found herself, at the exact opposite end of the exhibit hall, standing erect on her knees and mirroring Robin perfectly in the driving artificial rain, as Two-Face and Batgirl stood between them.
Two-Face stood staring, completely oblivious to the fact that his pistol was just bataranged out of his hands. His eyes were fixed on Batgirl's chest, and he had a quasi-comical expression on his face.
Robin's face was frozen in a mask of disbelief; and every other conscious face in the exhibit hall—for everyone had stopped to stare at Batgirl's entry and the resulting actions—appeared mostly confused.
Batgirl stood stock still, water running down her bangs and over her cowl into eyes. Already soaked but oblivious to that fact, Batgirl's eyes drifted down, slightly cross-eyed, to the black-on-yellow Bat-logo on the front of her costume, and ironically enough, her expression rather mimicked Two-Face's.
The bullet had impacted a hovering shield of obsidian that had somehow materialized out of thin air a few scarce inches away from her torso in an oval shape about the size of her Bat-logo. All eyes were fixed on that shield as it quivered slightly in place before dissolving into nothingness. The bullet—still spinning as it had tried to penetrate the shield, lost most of its kinetic energy in the attempt. With its progress no longer hindered it tumbled awkwardly forward and bounded off center of the black bat on Batgirl's chest. It hit the marble floor with a hollow TINK and bounced slightly, rolling harmlessly aside.
For many aching seconds, time stood still as both heroes and villains stood frozen, beaten into submission, it seemed, by what many silent tongues confessed a miracle.
Then all action resumed at once.
Bullets started flying as both guards and goons alike decided in the exact same instant to resume their shootout.
Batgirl and Two-Face dove in separate direction to avoid the shots.
The forgotten thug dove forward to tackle Robin, and their struggle began anew.
In the chaos that resumed so abruptly, Two-Face rolled out of the way of the incoming fire and came to standing, conveniently, at the door to the emergency exit. He pushed it opened and slipped through, trying to put as much distance between himself and the heroes behind him as possible.
"Gar, look!"
"Dude, he's making a run for it!"
Victor's human eye widened. "No way! The NYPD's got this place surrounded—the feds too!"
Gar fumed, turning an amusing shade of purplish green in his anger. "They'll never catch him! He's Two-Face!" The petit changeling balled his hands into fists, practically shaking with rage. "No way he gets off that easy. No way!"
Too late Victor realized what his friend was up to.
"Gar, WAIT!"
But Garfield had already morphed into a peregrine falcon, and with a piercing shriek, took off with the intents of pursuing the fleeing villain.
Raven shed the last vestiges of meditation and saw the world through human eyes again. As though ascending out of the ocean, Raven felt the last waves of Robin's emotions lick at her feet until finally falling short of reach.
She shuddered, violently, as the last of the sensations drained away and her soul self adjusted itself to solitary existence again.
"Nnnnggh," Raven winced, squinting her eyes shut as she pressed a hand into her temple as though the psychic exercise had given her some sort of tension headache.
Really though, it was the images that slammed into her third eye.
Images she gleaned from Robin's mind.
A few deep, shuddering breaths later and Raven felt more like herself again.
"Wh-what…?"
But no, she knew what had happened.
Raven shook her head, quickly, jerkily, as she tried to process exactly what it meant.
Then suddenly her pained and confused expression melted into stoicism. Regardless of what just happened, she still needed to find Garfield and Victor. Everything else could wait until after her friends are safe.
Raven finally stood, still hidden behind the exhibit case. Her soul self stretched, strangely invigorated by the whole ordeal, as though she has achieved some sort of psychic jogger's high. Her eyes slid closed as she sent out probing tendrils, seeking out the psychic signatures of Garfield Logan and Victor Stone, who were somewhere very, very close.
One final unrelated thought crossed her mind, and Raven couldn't help the half-smirk that graced her lips even as she eased deeper into silent meditative concentration.
I guess he really does have a girlfriend in Gotham…
Victor took off after his friend but not even his cybernetic legs could keep up with the green peregrine falcon that streaked its way into the exhibit hall. He reached the exhibit hall just in time to see the falcon transform mid-flight into a green gorilla that roared and smashed its way through the emergency door, only to turn back into a falcon to continue the pursuit.
Victor knew better than to try for his own mad dash through the bullets to follow his friend. Instead he would have to rely on other methods of finding Garfield, like the tracer the changeling is carrying in his pocket…
The guard-turned-thug that tackled Robin tried to pin him to the floor, wrestling style.
Robin rocked back onto his shoulders and kicked the thug off.
The thug flipped over and swiveled to a crouch and wasted no time in pouncing again.
Robin had no choice but to watch Two-Face make his escape over the thug's massive shoulders as they continued their struggle for dominance.
Then the mad chaos of the fight in the exhibit hall was harshly interrupted yet again, this time by the piercing shriek of a green peregrine falcon that streaked its way to the exit door only to crash through it in the form of a green gorilla, and then transform back again and fly swiftly away.
Robin knew that it was Garfield Logan, but whatever part of Dick Grayson that might have been concerned over the rash decision of his friend was still privately reeling from the shock of what happened—almost happened—to Barbara. The only reaction he could muster was a slightly appreciative grunt as he turned back towards the incredibly startled thug and punched him in the jaw, probably harder than necessary. The thug crashed back to the floor into the welcomed embrace of unconsciousness, totally unaware of what had hit him.
Robin made short work of binding the thug's hands with his bootlaces. Then he paused to take stock of the fight.
When Batgirl dove to the side to escape the sudden resurgence of gunfire, she wound up accidentally dodging right towards one of Two-Face's goons. She came out of her protective roll to once again find herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
The goon, however, seemed just as surprised as she was to have a sudden intruder in his cover space.
Batgirl's eyes hardened. "Not this time," she swore to herself in low tones as she reached out and grabbed the goon's wrist. She shoved it upwards over her head and his shot went wild.
The goon gasped in the split second before Batgirl swung her other fist into his right eye, sending him tumbling backwards into oblivion, transferring the gun into her waiting hand as he fell.
Batgirl removed the clip and tossed the gun aside, but her search for something to bind the goon's hands with was cut short by the sudden cry of a falcon.
Batgirl's head snapped up in time to see a green blur streak past her and smash its way in gorilla form out the emergency door.
"Logan…" she mused to herself, awed.
Then she realized that the teenaged metahuman must have gone after Two-Face, for the villain was nowhere in sight.
Raven's eyes snapped opened.
"Gar!" she exclaimed breathlessly as his psychic signature danced across her field of psychic vision with all the subtlety of a… gorilla.
"Wonders never cease…" she deadpanned, even as she closed herself off mentally from his mind. She sensed that Garfield was pursuing Two-Face, and from his volatile emotions she easily guessed why. His emotions were plain as day, and more than sufficient cause for worry.
Raven, of course, does not do worry. She merely withdrew from his psychic aura and the broadcasts of emotion that surrounded it. She could help him easily enough without empathy.
Raven stood stoically as she collapsed in on her soul self and opened a black iris in the floor beneath her feet. Victor Stone was safe—she would have sensed it from Garfield if it were otherwise. It was Gar who needed her, and so it was to Gar she traveled via the astral plane, easily following his psychic signature as he chased down his inner demons in the form of a Two-Faced monster.
As she ported out of the exhibit hall, Raven was completely unaware of a set of ice blue eyes that regarded her with a sense of awe and gratitude through a pair of Starlite lenses.
Only one of Two-Face's thugs remained—and he knew it. His buddies were unconscious, weird meta-type shit popped up to save the bat-bitch, and his boss had abandoned them only to be chased by a (teleporting?) green gorilla. Now, finding himself all alone and in the presence of two of Gotham's vigilantes (and God only knows what else), the thug knew when to throw in the towel.
"I give!" he called out, throwing his gun out of reach and reaching his knees, hands clasped neatly behind his back. The unscathed museum guards rushed his position, guns all pointed at his heart. Robin and Batgirl stood from their respective fights and glanced in each other's directions across the wide expanse of the exhibit hall.
Batgirl looked happily relieved, but Robin's face was hard as stone.
"Deal with it!" he ordered, his voice like jagged ice.
Before Batgirl had the chance to fully process what just happened, the emergency door was already violently swung opened. It slammed into the wall and hung suspended there for a moment before detaching itself from one of its hinges, teetered off balance for a few moments more, and finally gave up completely to crash down to the floor with a deafening CLANG. Batgirl, the guards, and the goon winced at the ricocheting noise.
In the silence that followed, no one bothered to question where the Boy Wonder had gone.
"Does anybody have cuffs?" Batgirl asked the guards, shattering the uneasy silence with her best Bat-voice.
"Y-Yeah…" One guard offered dazedly. He tossed a pair of handcuffs her way, and Batgirl caught them midair. She then proceeded to handcuff the goon behind his back.
"Watch him!" she ordered. "And get the police in here!"
With that, she took off after Robin.
