GAH! Protest! Protest! Normally, I'd start this chapter by responding to reviews, but Fanfic has gone and pulled another dumb ass rule: You can't include song lyrics, and you can't respond to people's reviews! Tell me that sucks! But—what you can do is start email chains. Write to ALL the people you know on Fanfic and get them to sign the email so you can oppose the new rule!
In the meantime, I'll have to hold off on the responding—sorry. But to answer a few questions: Yeah, I'm still doing a sequel. One person was wondering about that. By the way; that very same person brought up another question about pairings. Normally, I've been leaving romance out of this story, but if you guys feel that that needs to be included, mention it in your review, and I shall take it into consideration. Thanks.
Chapter Twenty One: Deal With the Devil
Alfred-
It was nearly impossible, not to cringe beneath Batman's icy stare, even for someone who knew him well. Technically, Alfred had brought it upon himself, revealing the little adventure he had taken part in by calling the Dark Knight after he had discovered that Robin was missing again, though that bit of information didn't improve the situation at all.
"Let me get this straight," Bruce sighed, tracing the shape of his eyes with his fingertips; the two friends were seated in a small coffee shop (Bruce said he had needed the caffeine to stimulate him after his long night) not far from the hospital, staring at one another over the table.
"You two found the girl and brought her to the hospital, directly ignoring my orders…"
"Yes." Alfred flushed slightly, before picking up where the other man had left off. "Master Dick and I were preparing to stay in the waiting room, until the doctors could tell us if there was a possibility of her living or not—"
"But you got called to the front desk to fill out some forms?"
"Correct."
"And when you got back, Richard was gone?"
"Yes, that's right."
Bruce groaned softly and took a large gulp of coffee, while Alfred remained silent, watching the Dark Knight worriedly. Master Bruce was a good man, no doubt about it, but the British man was concerned for his employer; what with his mind being distracted by all the complications Richard was causing, the Batman had obviously not had a nice time last night—there were dark circles underneath the man's eyes, and a cut ran parallel to his hairline, as if he had been taken by surprise by someone who knew how to wield a knife.
Things were getting a bit more difficult to handle in Gotham than usual, and that was saying something.
"So," Bruce mused, light eyes staring down into the muddy dregs of his drink. "I suppose there's only one question left to answer, now…where did he go?"
A frown creased the young man's brow, and, staring hard at a line in the table, he added in an undertone:
"And why?"
It was at that very moment that the first squadron of police and ambulance cars sped past the building's windows.
Robin-
Murky sewer water sloshed this way and that, breaking before him in small waves and following his wake after he had gone by; he was barely aware of anything happening around him—he could not hear the rain drops, as they beat down in a steady rhythm on his skull, plastering his ebony hair to his forehead. He couldn't feel chills running up and down his spine from the cold…all he knew was the death that surrounded him.
Some people often claimed that "silence was golden," that it improved your ability to think because there was no noise to distract you, no one around to break your concentration. Perhaps the saying was derived from the other age old tenet of children should be seen and not heard. But the truth was that the quiet was eerie—to him, it felt as if it were a monster's gaping mouth, preparing to swallow him whole—and it didn't matter if he screamed, or cried, or ranted endlessly like a madman because no one could hear the young boy's desperate attempts to shatter the never ending solitude.
Yet he did none of this. Robin found, for some odd reason, that he couldn't muster enough energy to weep, or yell; all capability of making sound or gestures seemed to have deserted him, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell…the only breathing person left in a barren world that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles without end.
Dead bodies drifted everywhere, and Robin gave a small, inward shudder every time he accidentally brushed against one of them. These people…these innocent people who never did anything to deserve a fate like this, had been killed, just so Slade could prove to the Boy Wonder that he was always, no matter how the teen tried to delude himself out of thinking that way, in control.
Slade could take away life however and whenever he saw fit; it was as if the man believed himself to be granted the responsibility of exterminating those around him, ending their days in a unexpected and vicious stroke…It was too much. So much destruction of life…all the things that had happened to him over a few days was finally taking hold, pouring over Robin's head like a huge, suffocating wave.
Somewhere below the dark surface, the hero's eyes caught sight of a tiny, pale hand clutching a stuffed bear…
He couldn't take it anymore, and Robin turning away, threw up, again and again, the bile swirling away in the water…his stomach was virtually empty and there wasn't much to rid his stomach of…but he couldn't stop…Gagging soon turned to a fit of coughing that wracked his entire frame, and wiping a hand across his mouth, the teenager screamed at the black heavens above him:
"What kind of God are you!"
A crash of lightening and thunder followed, as if it were an answer to his question, but it made Robin all the more angrier, all the more unbearable, and he slammed a fist into the nearest broken home, letting loose another yell of undeniable rage. He continued pummeling the already damaged wall; it was the only way that he could unleash his utmost frustration.
"You—idiot!" He hissed between blows, each punch harder than the first. "Everything was—right—in front of you! And—you didn't even—SEE IT!"
"It's not fair—they didn't deserve it!" He roared again at the heavy clouds, after the brick he had vented his anger on was reduced to rubble. "These people were innocent! This should have NEVER happened!"
Maybe it never would have happened if I hadn't run away to Bruce…if I hadn't left the team that morning…if I had remained Slade's apprentice…if I'd have just died alongside Mom and Dad…
There were so many 'ifs' in life, it was impossible to keep track of them all. And if human beings had been given the miraculous gift of being perfect, the word 'if' probably wouldn't even exist in the English language. Robin exhaled, the breath leaving his lips in small quivering gasps, and closed his eyes, shutting out the destruction about him.
"Remember this, Robin-everything that happens next will be your fault. All your fault…"
"I know I screwed up," the hero whispered weakly to himself. "I made a huge mistake…but I didn't mean to, honestly…sometimes…sometimes I can't help it…I know it's a bad excuse, but…I'm so sorry…And this is the price I pay…"
"…All your fault…"
Robin shook his head despairingly, clearing the memories away without much success; he was about to proceed again with his slow march through the ruined streets of Jump when something caught his eye: A pipe, half buried amongst the wreckage, appeared to have a small chunk of some sort of chemical sticking to it…that was weird…
The boy retrieved the tube swiftly, and set about examining it carefully…the strange stuff looked a lot like francium…Robin chucked the water pipe from him as far as he possibly could, and, barely a few seconds after the metal had been submerged, a burst of water shot up like a fountain. Was that how Slade had flooded the city? But just blowing up water lines couldn't have started the waves…unless Holocaust—
Robin set his jaw determinedly, and headed towards the cliffs that overlooked the ocean. If there was anything there, he'd find it.
Bruce-
"But sir, as Batman you are bound to defending Gotham! You can't possibly want to go to Jump City—those ghastly waves may start up again and—"
"Alfred, if there's a chance that Richard may be there, I have to go. And that's final," Bruce added, as his butler opened his mouth again to speak. "This is my choice."
"Sir," Alfred said wearily, as Bruce began suiting up. "I think I should tell you that Master Dick did not seem all that willing to—"
The Dark Knight stared long and hard at his old friend, the cowl over his head accenting the intensity in his blue eyes.
"Jump City might not be my main priority most of the time, but from what the police have been saying, nearly the entire population has been wiped out. If there's a possibility that there are any survivors, I feel I should help with the search."
Alfred didn't respond, but his gaze dropped to the Batcave's floor, and he shifted his weight with discomfort. Bruce sighed slightly, and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder.
"He's my son, Alfred. I'm not a very good father, and I'm sure he's still upset with me…but we need to have the chance to talk. Otherwise, the issues with his anger and my regret will never be resolved. Please say you understand that."
The British man looked as he wanted to say more, but instead bit his tongue and said in a resigned voice:
"I suppose, if you believe it is for the best…"
Bruce gave him a tight smile and started for the Batmobile.
"I'll be back soon. I promise."
Robin-
Holocaust's body, carried by the rolling surf of the ocean, had finally washed up on the beach. It was not a pleasant sight; much of his body had crumbled and blistered under the water, and his clothes mostly just a heap of useless rags now. The worst part was the face—the black mask that the fire demon had always worn had fallen away, revealing the remains of a decayed, cracked face, with black and dark green liquids oozing from the crevices dug into the features.
Robin felt his stomach twist as he stood there motionless, taking in the carcass before him. Whatever Holocaust had been, it certainly wasn't human…
The rain was falling harder than ever now, and Holocaust's cadaver was steaming; the Boy Wonder turned his back on it in disgust and hatred.
I wish I was the one that killed him, he thought angrily, thinking back to Gotham City hospital.
But pointless revenge wishes weren't important now; Robin had to get out of the rain, and he didn't know where the heck he was going to find shelter that he could stay in till the end of the storm—
Through the sheets of rain, the teen caught a glance of a small gap in the cliff face. Maybe it led to a cave? Robin took a chance and headed for the sliver of black.
-----------------------
The opening did indeed lead into a cave, but the interior was musty, and it made it difficult for him to breathe; still, Robin carefully made his way downwards, feet sometimes slipping on rocks that, oddly, seemed as if they were carved to resemble stairs.
He was almost to the end, when he tripped on one of the last jagged stones; Robin's heel caught on a flawed slab, and he fell forward over the ten remaining steps, before his face slammed into hard flooring, practically knocking him unconscious.
"Ow," He murmured, voice muffled and barely audible from where it was mushed against the ground. "That hurt…"
Where was he?
The hero pushed himself up off the floor and rubbed his eyes tiredly, before getting his first good look at where he was.
The room was enormous, even if most of the space was unused, and it was obvious that somebody lived here; at the far end was a rickety old table, covered in different mechanical pieces, and screens (they were dull and gray at the moment, so he assumed they had been turned off) covered one wall. There were a few doors off to the side, leading to who knew where, and above his head, catwalks and miniature bridges ran across one another, continuing to go upward into darkness…
Otherwise, there was nothing.
Robin frowned, and moved forward softly, footsteps padding noiselessly like a cat's. Everything looked so familiar, but he'd never seen this place before.
Or had he? But…who would live here?
Reaching into his utility belt, Robin pulled out the sleek metal 'S,' he'd taken one morning, and his eyes roved over its surface as a sickening feeling grew in his stomach like a tumor; he knew who…
His discovery came a moment too late, and by the time his brain registered that there was someone was coming down on him, Slade had already fallen from one of the earlier mentioned catwalks, and slammed a falling side kick on the small of Robin's back, sending him crashing back to the ground. The Boy Wonder, taken by surprise, recovered unnaturally fast, and managed to get in a few punches and an open palm strike move that cracked the center of the villain's mask. Slade ignored this and, swinging his heel into Robin's jaw. Robin crumpled to the ground, and the mastermind slung his arm around his former apprentice's throat; at the same time, Slade gripped both of Robin's arms behind his back, and pinned the boy's writhing body beneath his own, trapping his legs and any other chance of wriggling away.
As far as Robin was concerned, he decided that he had nothing else to lose, and continued to thrash as wildly as he could, looking for a nonexistent escape.
"Give up, Robin," Slade's voice breathed in his ear, the words accompanied by a wicked wrench on the boy's arms. Robin let loose an involuntary cry of pain, though it was instantly transformed into a fierce yell.
"DAMN YOU!" The Boy Wonder roared, attempting to jerk himself out of the man's grasp. "You killed them! All those people, you killed them, you murdering bastard!"
He had expected for Slade to laugh, for him to taunt him in some way, but instead, the next words that came were utterly unexpected.
"No, Robin. I didn't kill them…you did."
What!
"N—"
"Think: From the moment you came to Jump City, the instant you left your mentor, you were perfect for the taking. I made an offer, you declined it."
Slade's tone was unusually serious, and it made Robin more worried and scared now than anything else the madman had put him through.
"When you said no, you were aware of the consequences; you know me enough to realize that I'd never stop until I broke you—that I wouldn't hesitate to do anything to hurt you. And you, Robin, are the one that endangered your friends—who are close to death, even as we speak—and the person that brought the fate to the entire city. When you refused my offer, when you broke that promise…you started the chain of events that would lead us here."
"I—you…I didn't…"
What was he supposed to do? How could he even begin to retort to such an overwhelming statement like that? Was it really his fault? Did he cause the death of the sinless people that floated above him?
"Everything that happens next…"
It wasn't true, wasn't possible, wasn't true…
"…Will be your fault…"
Couldn't be true, couldn't be true, couldn't…
Slade's hot breath was racing along the back of Robin's neck, making his hair stand on end and sent chills down the boy's spine as he waited for more verbal punishment. But Slade had other plans in mind.
"The people of Jump can't be saved…but what about your friends?" The calculating and seductive note returned to the masked man's voice, and the teenager could tell something else was going to be thrown into the mix.
"What about them?" He demanded, even though his voice was weak from Slade cutting most of his air off.
"All four of them are in the hospital. Starfire and Cyborg have already been assaulted twice; you've no doubt asked for them to be surrounded by better security…"
Where was he going with this?
There was a brief pause, before the older man whispered silkily:
"The attacks on your friends won't stop…not unless they're dead…and my drones could only too easily take care of that…"
Robin responded with silence.
"Imagine," Slade added thoughtfully. "The drones are perfectly positioned, your friends too weak, too tired to fight off any type of torture inflicted upon them…so…perfect," He hissed, knowing how much Robin absolutely hated that word when it came from Slade's lips.
"Unless, of course, some sort of agreement can be reached…"
Again, the boy didn't answer, but from the way his body slackened in Slade's grip, he knew.
And the man smirked.
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Bruce made barely a sound as he crept over demolished rooftops, leaving survivors (yes, there were some, but a pitiful amount) where the police could easily find them. All the while, he kept watch for some sign of his son, his heart leaping into his throat at times when he thought he was close, but only to sink into the very pits of his stomach when he saw that it was nothing.
Maybe Robin had been wiped out during the waves…It was a terrible thing to assume, but it was only too possible.
If only he knew that the boy was several feet underground, slipping into a new suit that clung tightly to him like a second skin, the black and orange colors smothering him as if it to show how he would never escape; that Robin, right at that very moment, was making promises of misery, agreeing that he would obey a new master—a man that would do everything he could to make the boy's life a hell on earth because of the one time that he escaped.
"Robin," Bruce said sadly, the rain coming down on him in buckets. "Where are you?"
If only.
To be Continued…
Okay. I'm aware that this chapter was a lot shorter than the other recent ones. Sorry. But it's just really setting the stage. Well, I'll you guys around.
Don't forget to protest!
Rebel-Aquarius