03. Way of the Warrior

Summary: Returning home, what awaits the young Robin….and what next?

Even as Tim, the new 'official' Robin, seemingly withered away into the shadows of the night, hurrying towards his home of Haven, the forces of darkness, the Beast, converged upon the Oracle's lair.

"Ah, the Great Oracle," a deep voice called out. "Another one of the old fools….the last one."

Although most of the Oracle's essence had faded away, there was enough left to question the identity of the intruders. Did they not know that the grounds of the Oracle's sanctuary were consecrated and fowl beasts were not to enter?

"Who are you?" The great green head boomed. Its pale, pupil-less eyes staring at the door as a great hulking figure pushed through it to enter the inner sanctum, even as the other undead minions scurried in on the floor and in the air.

"You don't recognize me?" A giant head with grotesque reptilian features and equally numerous and sharp teeth stepped out and towards the fire. In its weapon dripped fresh blood, the same as that spattered all over his body and even colored his mouth and face, its long tongue licking a little of it off every few seconds. "Look closer!"

"You! Waylon Jones? The criminal? But you went into the Abyss with the Beast….You died!"

"Yes." The monster laughed a maniacal laughter. "Yet I live again…as Croc, Killer Croc."

Lifting its pickaxe like weapon, the now bestial Waylon, Killer Croc stepped up to the 'Oracle' and swung with all his might…..only to have it pass through the nearly faded head.

"W-What?"

"I will not be slain so easily Croc…" it sounded as if the Oracle words came from far away. "….Especially not by the likes of you."

With that there was all but air, empty space in which the enraged Croc kept on swinging his axe.

"NNNNnnnnooooo…."

----

Haven,

Time had slowed to a crawl for Robin, and in the dead silence that surrounded him, he could even hear the pounding of his own heart over the hiss of rain and the crackle of the flames….

His home, his town, Haven, is burning to the ground and the only other sound reaching him is the dripping of blood, seeping from lifeless flesh….staining the damp green grass red, the same grass on which, only a few hours ago, he had kissed his ladylove.

Rushing to his home, whatever little hope he had left fled from him, for sitting there by a support beam was his mother…dead, with a large spear sticking out of her gut, her face still contorted in a long pain. Right next to her lay his father….his trusty sword still loosely grasped in his hand. A true soldier, warrior, hero, he fought to the very end.

If that wasn't enough….just a few feet away, blood and mud staining her long raven colored hair, her rose still in place, lay the girl who wanted nothing more from life except having one with this young man. All she wanted was a nice cozy home, two kids and him. Alas, she was to get neither.

"Ariana…" Tim fell to his knees. Gently cradling the rapidly cooling body of his best friend, he turned her towards him, her face clearing up as the rain, washed the blood and the dirt away. "….my love."

---

In one instant, his whole world destroyed, his home, his family, his love….all gone, Tim was alone.

Yet, he felt nothing, for he could feel nothing, such was the shock. However, even in his numbed state, he knew one thing….that there was no way to put it back together, only to make sure that it did not happen with every other family all over the world.

With that single thought echoing through his mind, the young Robin stumbled away into the storm, paying no attention to the wild cried rending the dark of the night.

-----

Next morning,

"Father…." Tim kneeled before the newly anointed grave of his heroic father, his mother and Ariana buried a few feet away.

Toiling through the night, numb and freezing under the incessant rain, he provided last rites to the three most important people of his young life. Hearing nothing else but the faded cries of his loved ones, he could not even close his eyes for a second, for anytime he did that, all he saw was Ariana's pain wracked face. The same face that in all its innocence had colored red when she kissed him was not a pale lifeless yellow, the red coloring it now was the red of blood.

As the sun rose up over the mountains, he carried each one of them up onto the Field of Stones, the burial grounds for the residents of Haven….a Haven now destroyed, a Haven no more.

Finally, his prayers done, his tears shed, he grasped his father's sword and dug it down as a marker into the ground.

"You died fighting for us, for me, for mother…for Ariana," his voice cracked just a bit as the warrior within him rose to the surface. "I shall follow in your footsteps father. I will endeavor to be a warrior like you….

….or die trying to be one."

----

Elsewhere,

"It is done….the warrior forged….his journey begun."

TBC….

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