A/N: wow, I managed to finish this chapter in time, yay me! I'm half through the next one and I'm not sure whether to end it there or if there's one chapter more left… but two, max three chapters left, I think. Now, let's see if the boys can't get in a bit more trouble, ok?
Chapter 8: Promises Something for Everyone
Robin hurriedly sent the message to Slade and stayed in the closet until he was sure the men were out of the hallway. He opened the closet door just as Slade came around the corner.
"Do we search together?" the teen asked.
"I'd rather not have you digging through their things if something is contaminated," Slade said, shaking his head. "See if you can follow them off the ship instead."
Robin nodded and hurried after the men. He knew which floor they must have gone to, to be able to leave the ship, but when the elevator opened a lot of people were waiting to get off. The first familiar faces he saw were the Swedes, who were hanging out close by, seemingly in no apparent hurry.
"Hi, have you seen Victor and Carl?" Robin asked them, thinking it might save some time. "Me and Slade kinda-sorta ditched them as breakfast and I feel bad…"
"They will be down soon, they had forgotten their cameras," Andreas said.
"Wait, they were here and went up again?" Robin asked, cursing the multiple elevators.
"Yeah?"
"When?"
"Well, a couple of minutes ago…? Maybe?" Andreas looked perplexed.
"Ah, ok, good. But that reminds me I forgot my camera too!" Robin said and quickly jumped into the nearest elevator while already texting Slade. 'Get out!' he wrote.
The ride was the slowest ever, and it stopped on a few floors too. No reply from Slade. Robin was on the balls of his feet, biting his lip, itching to move. Once the doors finally slid open on the right floor he pushed through and ran.
The hallway was empty, peaceful. No voices, no sign of violence. When Robin reached the door, he hesitated. Knock? Rush in? In both circumstances he'd be breaking his promise. Then he heard it. Two thuds. Sounds that others might take for a carefully opened champagne bottle but Robin knew were gunshots. Gunshots with a suppressor. Loud enough to be heard, but without the sharp crack of a normal gun shot.
In any other situation he would have rushed in. But he had promised. Besides, Slade had the healing factor, not him. But that didn't mean he couldn't do something, and hopefully, he could get the cavalry. It was time to get some more hands involved.
He turned and ran, hoping they hadn't left yet. The CIA, they would need to get involved, no matter what Slade said. He knocked rapidly on the cabin door and whooped with joy as it opened.
"Hurry! Let me in, we need help!" he begged Derek, who had been the one that opened.
"Help?" The man didn't step aside and Robin knew he had to lay the cards on the table.
Keeping his voice down, he whispered. "I know you're CIA, ok? Slade is in the Russian's cabin-" he was let in then, almost dragged in. "Thank you!" he said, and as the door closed behind him. "We're private investigators," he claimed, which they had planned to use as cover if they ever would have to explain themselves. "Our client got us on this cruise to expose two men, possibly Russians, who kill people with Novitjok, you know what I'm talking about, of course?" he said.
"Of course," Derek said calmly. "And Slade got surprised by the suspects?"
"Yes. He broke into their cabin and they came back-"
"There's a motion detector," Tim said. "We were almost trapped too."
"We knew, we thought we had disabled it, it might just have been a fluke, I don't know, but they are in there now and I heard shooting and we need help!" Robin started to get frustrated by the men's professional calm. If he had been suspicious at all he would have seen the small nod Tim, in front of him, gave Derek who was still behind him, by the door, and he would have reacted, but as it was, the teen's mind was only on what was possibly going on in the other cabin. The impact on the back of his head was therefor a complete surprise.
He sagged onto the carpeted floor, same pattern as in their cabin he idly noticed as the darkness swallowed him up. Just before he passed out completely, he heard one of the men swear. In Russian.
He woke up on a much harder surface, a tiled marble floor. Again, he recognized it from his own suite and realized that he was in the bathroom. He tried to move, but gasped as pain shot from his neck and into his arms which were twisted behind his back and held there by… something. Robin rested his forehead against the cool tiles, just waiting for things to clear up. It was difficult to breathe. His mouth was so stuffed with fabric of some kind that, whatever it was, tickled the back of his throat, threatening to make him gag.
"He's awake," a voice said. Tim's, Robin thought.
"Already? Just like last time, then. Must have a thick skull." That was definitely Derek.
"Not thick enough for a bullet." Tim again, and he didn't really sound like he was joking.
"There are better ways. But later. We need to sort this out now. Ready to go?"
"Can we just leave him here?"
"He can hardly move," Derek said dismissingly. "And he's tied up. He's not going anywhere."
"Alright." Tim gave in. "Let's go then. Play tourists. But only for an hour or two. Make sure we're seen and then make up an excuse to get back early."
"Sure. Bye, kid. You're gonna take a swim tonight, nothing personal," Derek told him. Robin wasn't even looking at them, he was busy just breathing through the pain.
"Maybe we can have some fun with him first?" Tim suggested.
"You're always thinking with your dick, but sure. He's cute. And it's always fun when you don't have to be careful."
"Are you sure that Slade guy won't come looking for him, though?" Tim seemed to be the cautious one in the duo.
"If what the kid said is true that guy's dead by now. He won't come looking for anyone."
With that the men left and Robin tried to move again. He didn't have time to lie around here, but time was exactly what he needed, because as of now, he could barely wriggle. He discovered that his hands were indeed tied with some kind of cloth, and his feet were in turn tied to the pipe under the sink so he couldn't crawl out of the bathroom somehow. They had used neck-ties, he saw, and assumed they had done the same to his wrists. He closed his eyes for just a moment, fighting the need to throw up. The gag keeping the stuffing in his mouth was tied hard around his head and he couldn't budge it. He couldn't even move his jaw and definitely not his tongue. He tried crying out for help, just making any kind of noise, but it was very muffled. Most people had probably left the ship as well. He could hope the men had forgotten to leave the sign on the door that called for no cleaning so a maid would come by, but he doubted that.
Okay… look around. Use what's around you… he thought to himself. The floors, however, were clean. He struggled to sit up on his knees, having to take a few short breaks to do so, and now he was luckier. On the counter next to the sink was a leather toiletry bag. It was just a matter of reaching it.
His feet were tied so close to the pipe that he couldn't stand up, but he contorted his limber body enough to turn as much as possibly towards the bag and lean closer. He could just touch it with his nose and he managed to tip it over. From there he extended his neck as far as he could, placed his chin on the bag and then pulled it to the edge and over it, letting it fall down on the floor. He twisted around and had no problem opening the zipper. He spilled the contents out on the floor, listening to the sound the things made and then turned around hopefully, looking down on the assortment of things. The first item he spotted was a razor and he grinned, turning around and searching for it with his fingers. He quickly found the handle and began positioning it to slice over the fabric that held his hands together. He expected it to go quickly and frowned after a while when nothing seemed to be happening. He very carefully felt the blades and frowned.
"Fucking safe shaving technology," he growled as he discovered that the blades had a bit of a give and were nestled into the protective casing so well so they were pretty useless for what he was trying to do. If he had been able to see what he was doing and apply more pressure, then it might be a different situation, but as it was, he might as well have been using a butter knife. He turned around again, looking down at the things that had fallen out of the small bag, hoping for a pair of scissors, but no. There was deodorant, a comb, a brush, some half empty blister packs of what seemed to be common headache, allergy and indigestion pills, something most people would have with them. There was also toothpaste, band aids, floss, a pair of tweezers, a small bottle of some kind of aftershave and something Robin thought was a battery powered nose hair trimmer. Nothing much helpful. Could he break the plastic casing around the razor, he wondered… if he could get one of the blades lose, he could possibly use that. But the blades weren't very wide and the razor as a whole looked pretty sturdy. The next moment he grinned, however, because he had finally noticed something he should have discovered at once; the aftershave bottle was made of glass.
It took him some time to break it as he was afraid it would fall out of range if he just dropped it, but in the end, thanks to the floor being tiles, he did. Now for the tricky part.
He searched the floor for the largest shard of glass, hissing as his questing fingers came in contact with small, sharp pieces. Once he finally found a usable piece, all it took was time, patience, and a few more cuts. Despite the gag, Robin wanted to whoop in joy when his bonds finally broke but it turned into a grunt of pain instead as his arms finally moved from the position they had been stuck in for so long. He got rid of the gag, gritted his teeth, and forced his bloodstained and aching fingers to work on his bound feet. After that, he ran.
He didn't know how long he had been out, but he knew he was much too late to help Slade at this point. It didn't matter, though, because he still had to try. The cabin doors were sturdy, but the teen had all that was needed: speed, determination, and technique. He practically exploded through the door, not caring if anyone was around. The first thing he saw was Slade, slumped against the far wall, his chest and stomach covered in blood. The man wasn't dead, though, as he was currently glaring at him and speaking.
"Idiot." The sound, or grunt, was harsh and seemed to be spoken with some difficulty.
Robin saw the movement to his side in time this time and kicked out, the gun flying from his attacker's hand. It was Carl, and he didn't look happy. Victor was off to the side, cradling a newly bandaged arm.
The teen didn't quite know what to do but ducked out of the man's reach while trying to keep an eye out for more weapons.
"Listen, Slade, the CIA are the Russians!" Robin let the man know.
"Figured," the man grunted again. One who seemed surprised, however, was Carl, who stopped his assault on the teen.
"Wait, what?" the 'German' said.
"It's complicated-" Robin began.
"Novitjok?"
"Okay, maybe not that complicated," the teen amended.
"I tried to tell you," Slade let them know, still on the floor, and still seemingly having more blood outside his body than a human adult really should.
"Like you could be trusted," Victor snorted.
"But Robin can? You know we are on the same team, right?"
"Actually, we weren't sure," Carl admitted. "We thought you had him fooled. Or the other way around. There was a bet." He had stood back, but Robin was still on the alert.
"Who are you?" he growled. "And Slade? Are you ok?"
The man grunted and slowly got up. "I was biding my time, letting the healing factor kick in," he admitted. "I'll be ok."
"Good," Robin risked giving the man a quick smile and then his focus was back on the pair. "So? Care to answer?"
Victor and Carl looked at each other.
"MI5," Carl said with a shrug.
"BND," Victor admitted.
"Wait, what?" it was Robin's turn to say. "British and German security service, working together?"
"This is big," the older of the two said.
"I thought you were a bit of an odd couple," the teen admitted and got laughs back.
"We are a couple," Victor said. "Very inofficially."
"When I told you Victor and I mainly take vacations together that was true. This time we just happened to be working."
Then new chaos broke out in the cabin as more people suddenly forced themselves through the door which was now only barely hanging on anymore. Slade grabbed Robin and pushed the teen behind himself as the new arrivals shouted out.
"Everyone keep still! Hands where we can see them!" Two pair of light blue eyes were watching them coldly behind raised guns.
"Oh, no, the bloody Swedes," Victor groaned. "Listen, MI5, BND, we have ID Codes and clearance."
"And you?" one of the Swedes asked, attention on Robin and Slade instead.
"We represent private interests," Slade said before Robin could open his mouth, but the teen followed up quickly with;
"We're on your side, though! The CIA are the Russians," he repeated, hoping for the same effect. He got it. Mostly.
"We suspected as much," the other Swede said. Robin really hated that he had trouble telling them apart.
"Wait… and you are, then?" the teen asked and got a look like he was a bit slow back.
"Säpo," he was told.
"Of course," he muttered.
"Where are the Russians now?" Slade, who seemed to be just slightly more goal oriented than the agents, asked.
"Out on the island. They are coming back in just a few hours, they said, maybe sooner."
"How long ago was this?"
"Maybe… half an hour?" the teen guessed.
"Alright, that should give us a little bit of time, at least," Slade muttered. "You four, make sure you check each other's ID-numbers or whatever you have to do before you can relax, I've been shot enough times today. We need to see about fixing the door and I would like to change into a new shirt once I stop oozing."
"How are you even alive?" one of the Swedes asked, and Robin loved him for the faint trace of actual worry in his voice.
"All the bullets just grazed me," the man deadpanned, though it was obvious just one of them would normally have been deadly. "Get on with it. Now."
The men seemed to decided that the alpha male had spoken and started to compare notes. "You're not confirming our ID's?" Victor asked Slade as they were finishing up.
"Honestly I don't care," the man let him know.
"We should contact our… employer," Robin whispered to him.
"My phone didn't survive the bullets that went through it," the man admitted.
"Mine is gone," the hero just realized. "The CIA must have taken it off me."
"Must have?"
"They knocked me out. Tell you more later."
"Is that why your hands are cut?" the man wanted to know, and then turned to the others.
"I'm going to patch Robin up and change. You tidy up and fix the door, like I said. Make sure there's nothing obviously wrong going on. Carl, someone needs to make sure the CIA don't come back early."
"How's your arm?" Robin asked Victor.
"Only a scratch. An actual one," he said and gave Slade a look. Robin didn't have time to figure out exactly what had happened in the cabin but figured that he would later. It wasn't important right now, anyway.
"Only shallow cuts, you're lucky," Slade told him a few minutes later in their own cabin. Robin had just washed his hands carefully and the man was helping him apply disinfectant and bandages. He nodded and gingerly moved his fingers as Slade shrugged out of his bloody and torn shirt. The teen looked up and gasped.
"Holy shit!"
"It looks worse than it is," Slade dismissed it and chucked his shorts off as well. "I need to rinse off the blood and change, though, or it will draw attention."
"Are… are you sure you're… water proof?"
"We'll have to see," the man chuckled and stepped into the spray.
"I'm going back to the Germans- um… germ-brits? Ah, fuck it, I'm going back there, anyway, to see if I can help with anything."
"You'll stay right here," Slade told him firmly. "Well, in the cabin, anyway, I'm not ordering you to watch me shower."
"But-"
"I you leave now you risk running into the CIA."
"You mean the Russians?"
"You know who I mean," the man grunted. "Use your laptop, contact the bat. But if he get's the idea of sending in some kind of cavalry, then for the love of god, stop him. Too many are already involved."
Robin nodded and with one last worried glance at Slade's wounded torso he left the bathroom. "Let me know if you need any help," he called as he grabbed his computer.
He quickly filled Bruce in.
"Your phone is still in their cabin, at least the tracker claims so," the man said.
"Pity, if they had brought it, we would have known where they are," the teen sighed.
"I'm searching for any available camera I can find on the island and especially near the ship…" the man told him. "Not much luck, though. The camera security isn't as big here as in Gotham."
"Duh," Robin snorted. "Slade has told me to sit tight for now, what do you think?"
"That he's right. You take a back seat from now on, Robin. Let him handle this."
"He's already severely injured," the teen let him know.
"Well, the important thing is that the men are caught, maybe the agents are enough to-"
"No," Slade told them from the bathroom door. He was only wearing a towel and Robin winced at the angry read splotches that was newly healed skin.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"Getting better by the minute. But the agents will not take it from here. The Russians are dangerous and might still have more nerve poison, I am the best bet."
Robin smirked. "How gallant and heroic of you," he said.
"It's gallant and heroic to consider others incompetent idiots? Well, then, where's my cape?" the man smirked back. "We need to go take control of the agents now, convince them to see things our way." The man had dug out another cellphone from his belongings and was putting the sim card from his old one, which luckily had survived, into it as they were speaking.
"Your way," Robin muttered.
"The right way," Slade clarified with another smirk, looking up from his fiddly task.
"Bruce, ask Alfred to bake me a big batch of chocolate chip cookies, because I will need that when this is over. As compensation," the teen sighed.
"The agents are good for one thing," the Dark Knight answered, clearly ignoring the teen's request. "They can take official credit and take care of the aftermath, so to speak. Just make sure they agree to make that a joint effort and step back once the Russians are caught."
"Will do," Slade agreed to easily. "We'd better go."
"Be careful."
"We will," Slade answered.
"I was talking to Robin."
"Hurtful," Slade chuckled. "I'll be needing some of those cookies too."
Back in the 'German's' cabin they had a war council which Slade led with that natural ability he had to just boss everyone around. Robin was fascinated, watching it. It annoyed him that he wouldn't have close to that authority even if the whole Justice League was backing him up. The Swedes had dared questioned their involvement, though, and Slade had just looked at them.
"Is Klas Friberg still the boss of you guys?"
They nodded. "Call him. When he was new, back in February, our paths crossed. Tell him codename Deathstroke wants that favor in Egypt returned."
The Swedes had hesitated but made the call and from then on, they were fully on board too. The others had either already made similar calls of their own, already knew or, less likely, didn't care.
They were all there because they had made sure the camera-feeds they all had been both using and abusing were working and one of the Swedes kept a constant eye on them. If the Russians returned early, they would get a warning.
The teen had melted a bit into the background, something he both resented and preferred at the same time. Watching Slade like this, from a bit of a distance, made him a bit… bothered. In a good way. Which of course annoyed him, but it just couldn't be helped at the moment. He knew he was a natural leader as well, but here he had to admit that he was a boy among men. These agents represented nations, you couldn't just barge in and start throwing bird-a-rangs around… whatever happened here could have far reaching political consequences after all, not to speak of personal ones if any of them got hurt. He couldn't even try to be in charge here, not did he really want the responsibility. Slade seemed to have no problem with it, but that wasn't exactly surprising, considering the man most likely wouldn't give a damn about any consequences unless they affected him and possibly Robin. So, the teen listened and learned instead.
"I alone will wait for them in their cabin," Slade had just decided. "I'm the only one that can survive the poison if they should have any on them."
"But there's two of them, you need backup," Carl claimed.
"The more people in a limited space, the bigger risk of a mishap," the mercenary said and shook his head. No one could really argue with him on that point. "I need you waiting outside, blocking all exit points. Robin, you need to stay here until the Russians are either taken care of or fleeing. They can't see you before."
"Of course," the teen nodded.
"You should stay here anyway, kid, it's not safe for you, even though you can fight," Victor said.
"He can take down any of you one handed," Slade snorted and at that instant Robin's chest exploded with pride almost painfully. "I'm training him on his father's request," the man added as a sort of cover.
"Dad of the year," the brit muttered. "How old are you actually? From what we've seen you do-"
"Maybe morals, no matter how noble, isn't what we need to discuss right now," Slade snorted.
"Just turned twenty-one, just like my ID says," Robin lied. "It's not my fault I'm short and cute," he added a bit sulkily, which made the other men chuckle a bit.
"Alright then." Victor didn't seem like he was completely buying the story and Slade picked up on it.
"No more questions about him and leave him out of the reports and you'll get a one-time number you can call. Any time. Trust me, it's a good deal."
The men looked at each other and then all nodded.
"Thanks," Robin mumbled to the room in general.
"You owe me," Slade told him and didn't seem like he was joking that much. "And I will check those reports."
"But how would you-" Victor began and then stopped himself, sighed and shrugged. "Of course you will."
Robin ginned a little then, putting the worry about what exactly he owed Slade behind him.
"Get into position," the mercenary ordered. "Robin, was the bathroom door closed?"
"Yes, and the light was on. Watch out for the glass in there, though," the teen warned him.
"I will. Stay here until it's safe or you're needed. Does everyone's headphones work?"
They had made sure they could stay in constant contact with each other, and were now taking up their positions to wait. The Swedes were covering the entrance hall, and that took two people just in case there was a crowd. Victor and Carl were hidden in the hallways close to the Russian's cabin, were Slade would be waiting to take them down. Robin's assignment was to watch all the camera feeds on three different computer screens to make sure the men didn't slip by the Swedes.
"I'm in position," Slade's voice told them a few minutes later.
"Good luck. Don't get more hurt," Robin told him back.
"No flirting," one of the Swedes joked, making the teen snort.
Then they all settled down, in a way, to wait. And wait. And wait...
"I have to go to the bathroom, I'm sorry but I really have to," Robin said after a little over an hour.
"Don't worry, we're ready, and we'll cover each other," Carl answered.
"Thank god, I get to go after you," Victor said, making Robin feel a bit better about himself.
"Guess my position is very strategic in that regard," Slade said dryly, getting groans in reply.
Robin hurried and then Victor came back for his bathroom break while the teen was keeping an extra sharp eye out.
Robin called out just a moment before one of the Swedes.
"Spotted, they are heading for the elevators!" the Swedes reported.
"Victor, stay where you are, you risk running into them otherwise," Carl said.
"Roger that," Victor said, still inside the bathroom. He soon joined Robin in front of the computers. An elevator had never moved slower in history, but soon the men were up on their floor, which Robin quietly reported. They went inside their cabin and the teen realized he was balling his fists up so hard that his nails were digging into his skin. The seconds ticked by then then suddenly there was a commotion coming through the headset. A shout cut short and then another one. Then all silence again.
"Slade?" Robin called out softly but worriedly.
"It's done," the man said.
The teen threw off his headset and then dashed down the hallway, getting there at the same time as Carl, and just as Slade opened the door.
"Do you need any help tying them up?" the teen grinned and looked inside the room before Slade had time to block his view. His grin slipped.
To be Continued…
A/N: short chapter, but it was a good place to quit. Huh? What do you mean, it wasn't? No idea what you are on about…
When I thought up the bathroom scene, I was sure the bathroom floor would be plastic carpet of some sort, so I went back to the "digital tour" of the suites available on the ship I'm basing this on and lo and behold: tiles. Imagine how effing much that would both cost and weigh… now, I don't know if ALL rooms have tiled bathrooms but I wouldn't be surprised if they do… that's 1,780 tiled bathrooms for just the guests… how DO these ships float?! 😉