Hey!

I was about to apologize for the delay on this chapter, when I realized I've done that on EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER of this story… I think I might need professional help. I'm still apologizing, though. I'm terrible with updates, I realize ----I won't give excuses except to say that life's just a bit complicated right now. I would like, however, to thank the people who were patient with me and this story, and everyone who kept reading and reviewing. The good news is, this is the second to last chapter. I'm not gonna say anything regarding the next chapter's status, however, because every time I do I just jinx myself.

I will, however, say that the time I spent away from this place was very productive.

Also, if you're in the mood for mostly pointless musings, don't forget to check out the Red Notes at the end.

Anyway, end of note.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. I should, though, at least a little, considering the obscene amount of money I've spent on TT merchandise.

Rae—I'm following a lead on Bruce's case: 'Blockbuster', a crime lord based off Bludhaven. Batgirl's coming with me. I don't know when I'll be back—soon, I hope. If I haven't contacted you by tomorrow at noon, look for me. Use the tracer in my comm.-link. Otherwise, don't worry—I'll be fine.

There was something else at the bottom of the page, but it had been thoroughly crossed out and she couldn't decipher what it'd said before. Something inside her teased her eyesight—I miss you—but she shut it out. He hadn't signed it, and somehow that made her smile—so like him not to waste time in redundancies.

A frown replaced the smile; she wished he'd woken her up. His confronting his father's murderer was something she didn't want him to be alone for. Not alone—Batgirl'll be there. But Barbara was too distraught herself to be of any use in preventing what Raven was dreading—she might even encourage it.

Trust him. Robin wouldn't cross that line, no matter how enraged. Batman had made sure he never would, and the Boy Wonder wouldn't disobey that particular commandment, especially not now with the loss of his mentor so fresh. Trust him.

I do.

But she worried still.

She worried as she stepped into Robin's shower---although she was glad to find it substantially neater than the bathroom she shared with Star---, worried as she grumbled about the lack of conditioner, worried as she studiously examined the stylized bird emblem on the bathroom mirror, traced invisibly and now revealed by the steam. Obviously, it had been Robin's doing—probably his own design. Raven wondered what it meant, though she suspected she knew what had been going through the Boy Wonder's mind as he ran his finger over the glass. She could almost see him, monogrammed red towel around his waist, dark hair dripping, tiny rivulets of water sliding their way down from the expanse of his shoulders, bottle eyes intense as he took the shape of a robin and bent it just so, far enough from the original that the differences were plain yet close enough to it that the essence remained undisturbed.

Impulsively, Raven traced the design with her own fingers before taking a hand towel and wiping the symbol down.

Robin had been to Bludhaven before, once, to follow a lead on a gang that had just started operating in Gotham territory. That had been a long time ago, but he remembered the city---it was as gray as anything, crumbling buildings that looked to be over a century old, dirty streets that desperately needed re-paving, a sewage system that collapsed at the first signs of the rainy season. The city was overrun with criminals who stole from each other only to have the bounty disappear at the next street corner, killers who murdered hit men on their way to a job… The docks were a veritable cornucopia of drugs, guns, and other imports of a more elusive precedence. Gang tags overlay each other on every wall until it was impossible to determine what block belonged to whom. The streets were lined with women, especially at night but also throughout the day----jaded things with glossy eyes and shaky legs as well as perky beings popping bubble gum and strutting like peacocks on display.

And over the mayhem reigned Blockbuster, the man in whose chest---if Torque was to be believed---beat Batman's heart.

Details were sketchy---life spans were short enough in Bludhaven that anyone who might've known the whole truth had already met with a bullet or nine. There were, however, a few things the underground agreed upon. Blockbuster had come out of nowhere a few years back, his appearance coinciding with the death of one of the city's crime bosses, Roland Desmond, in a freak bout of an unexplained disease. He was an ape of a man----huge, with taut, sickly white skin and sleek yellow hair. A man's head could comfortably fit in his hand, and he had often proved it when he crushed the skulls of his enemies. His strength, size, and intelligence all signaled him as metahuman. He had quickly taken over the city and if there was any 'business' to be done in the 'haven then the first taste was always his. He surrounded himself with steel and hired guns, preferring to observe from the shadows and let the threats come through others. He was ruthless, unforgiving, and deadly, with a taste for breaking necks as a signature in his kills.

There was also something else, a whisper that had blown through the 'haven like radioactive waves. It said that Blockbuster was dying, that his weak, human heart could no longer support the behemoth that Ronald Desmond had become.

And then the dying began. Big men, burly men in the epitome of health with decades' worth of natural life before them, all with broken necks and hollow chests, sent down the river to rot.

And then the dying stopped, as abruptly as it began.

"You sure this is the place?" Robin asked, eyeing the building above them. They were dismounting the R-cycle amongst a thick forest of pines that had sprouted up, sea-side. The forest continued up-hill before giving way to a 50s style house, big, complete with brick chimney and sprawling metallic decks. Not exactly the Stately Manor he would have expected, even if it was on a cliff overlooking the dirty water of Bludhaven Bay.

"Has to be." Batgirl answered, busily trying to pop the seat of the bike.

"The latch is on the other side." Robin told her distractedly, still studying the building.

"Thanks." She came to stand next to him, black cable slung over her shoulder. "Last known address for Roland Desmond---this is the place we're looking for. Incidentally, think you'll get around to explaining what we're doing here anytime soon?"

"This place is Blockbuster's home. You remember Blockie, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well, he's been having some heart trouble and decided the answer was a transplant. And, of course, a donation from Average Joe is not worthy of the great Blockbuster----he wants only the best. So he stole himself a heart." Robin turned to look at Batgirl, wanting to see her reaction. Her face was hard with grim determination as she added,

"The wrong one." Robin assented, turning back around to face the water.

"He'll find that out soon." Batgirl meditated his answer. Were they here to punish Blockbuster, then? To break him and bind him and hand him over to the GCPD as the one responsible for Bruce Wayne's death? But what if it hadn't been Wayne's heart, but Batman's that he'd meant to steal-----could they risk him talking and spilling secrets that he should've never known in the first place? Or were they here just for revenge----to cut him open and take back what he'd stolen from their mentor? Did Robin… did he intend to…?

"Robin," she asked again, "what are we doing here?"

"We're here to find out the truth… I don't trust Torque, but this is the best lead we've had so far and it makes sense. And if Blockie is indeed responsible… then I want to… I want to look him in the eye and make… make every last scrap of him regret it…" the coldness of his statement made her shudder, but she nodded her agreement. She wasn't sure how far Robin would go to 'make him regret it'… but then again, she didn't know how far she wanted to go herself… Not true. She did know what she wanted, she just didn't know if she could trust herself to not go through with it when the opportunity arose.

"Fine." She said, hitching the cable higher on her shoulder. At her word, Robin took a re-breather from his belt, put it in his mouth, and dove down into the murky waters. Batgirl took one last look at the house, muttered under her breath, and followed.

The hike up the cliff's jagged edge was a heavy one, but relatively safe in terms of surveillance; while the pine trees leading up to the house were filled with thugs and vigilance, the rocky cliff was deemed too perilous a road to pose a threat as infiltration means and was therefore little guarded. Luckily for Robin and Batgirl, the guards in charge of cliff duty were knocked out by two well-aimed batarangs and a single birdarang before they could spot the masked duo. Between that and the blinding red intensity of the late afternoon sun, they were able to make their way safely to the outer wall of Blockbuster's residence.

Though they briefly considered making their way through the inside of the house, they eventually agreed that the element of surprise was not something they would readily give up. That decided, they began climbing the wall.

"Which window is it, again?" Robin hissed from above her.

"Third up, fourth from the left." Batgirl answered after quickly referencing the secondhand diagrams she had committed to memory. The window in question led to Blockbuster's room.

"It's empty."

"I told you it would be. We should try the study."

"Fine. Which one is it?"

"Third up, second from the right."

"Okay." Exhibiting his trademark grace, Robin was there in a second, carefully peering between the curtains. "I can't see inside… I don't think there's anybody in there, though." Making a noise of exasperation, he added. "This is taking us nowhere. I think we should just go in and search the place."

"Let's do it then." She agreed, but Robin had already eased the window open and was halfway in. Muttering a curse, she followed.

The large study, in contrast to the exterior of the house, was everything Barbara could've expected it to be—bookshelves, knickknacks, leather sofas, big wooden desk, and a big, high-backed chair behind it. Not that different from Bruce's own. And it appeared empty.

Appearances can be deceiving.

Robin sensed it a second before she did, pulling her down hard to avoid the sudden hail of bullets racing through the space that had been occupied by her chest. When the shooting stopped abruptly, she looked up to find that the chair had swiveled around and she was face to face with abomination.

Maybe face-to-face wasn't the right expression. The being in the chair, smoking tommy-gun in hand, wasn't Blockbuster. Beside her, she heard Robin hiss.

"Torque."

"Clever boy." His voice was the one he remembered… husky and dry, as if ashes were clogging his throat. His appearance, however, was entirely different. His head was still on backwards, of course, but the rather silly rear-view mirror contraption he'd wore in the warehouse had been replaced by a much sleeker, more effective-looking device, made up of some sort of circular focal point in the back of his head, out of which sprouted two tubes—one on each side—that connected with the goggles affixed over his eyes. He'd traded the stripped suit for navy slacks and a standard-issue manila street coat, the sort of which inspectors wore in movies as they trailed conspiracy through the fog. These two changes were dramatic to former-Inspector Dudley Soames' overall appearance, and Robin suddenly felt foolish; this man was clearly not just the cowardly low-life he's assumed he was. This Torque was dangerous. "You remembered my name." As the criminal continued to talk, Robin felt the door opening. A whisper from Batgirl confirmed his suspicions.

"There's about eight of them… make that ten. Big." Though he couldn't see them himself, Robin realized that Batgirl was studying their soon-to-be opponents through the reflection between the computer screen and a vase in one of the bookshelves.

"Guns?"

"Four of them."

"Would you stop that whispering!" Torque cried out, banging his firearm against the desk. He calmed down quickly, and added, "I might think you're not taking me seriously and take offense." He gestured significantly at the tommy-gun he cradled in his arms.

"What's going on, Torque?"

"What does it look like, little bird? You walked into a trap." Though Robin couldn't see his face, he got the distinct impression that Torque was smiling as he continued, "Frankly, kid, I didn't think it would work. But he was sure you'd show up at the warehouse, and even more certain that you'd come here, looking for that piece of meat. Imagine my surprise to find---you are just. That. Stupid." He barked a chuckle, and continued. "The Bat must be twitching in his grave…." Robin felt his fists tightening at the crack, sensed the heat from Batgirl's rage radiating just beside him. "And now… you're gonna find out what stupidity can cost one these days." At his nod, the band of thugs launched themselves on Robin and Batgirl.

With no time to think, Robin found himself somersaulting backwards to avoid a crowbar. He kicked it out of its owner's hands as he landed, and delivered a kick to his solar plexus that sent him straight into the wall and unconsciousness. A bullet whizzed past him and he swerved to avoid the rest, only to find they where aiming at Batgirl rather than him. The projectiles missed the blonde vigilante, but met with the flesh of another attacker. I hate guns. The shooter came into view, and he took the gun-bearing hand by the wrist, breaking it swiftly. The thug cried out and dropped the weapon; Robin didn't let go as he kicked to his left, delaying another goon and his knife for the precious few seconds it took to send the thug in his grasp sprawling into his buddy and knocking them both unconscious as they fell into a small table. Behind him, he heard Batgirl yell,

"Watch it!" Robin dropped to the ground as his partner flew overhead, the heel of her boot solidly connecting with some Joe's temple and taking him out. Before the goon even hit the ground, Robin had to roll to avoid the knife heading for his ribs. He jumped to his feet and kicked the knife away, then punched the goon hard on the jaw and again through the chin, upper-cutting him into obliviousness. He dodged to the left, avoiding a bullet that was way off mark anyway, kicked the gun out of someone's hand and took a step backwards---and found himself back-to-back with Batgirl. Six, Seven, Eight down… Seven to go? What happened to ten? Somewhere in the room, Torque was laughing.

"There's not enough room here." Batgirl rasped behind him. She was right—between the furniture and the unconscious bodies littering the floor, it was foolish to think they wouldn't run out of room. Robin nodded his agreement, and said,

"We need to draw them out into the hall… or even better, outside."

"How are we doing that, Boy Wonder?" Robin breathed heavily, weighing they options. He drew his Bo staff, but stood still, his hand stealing to his utility belt and retrieving several smoke pellets.

"Just follow my lead…" he whispered finally, before throwing the pellets down, "and…RUN!" As the smoke rose, Robin used his Bo staff as means of propulsion, launching himself over the two thugs that stood between him and the door. He landed heavily, throwing them out of the way as he ran out of the study, Batgirl hot on his heels and their attackers just behind her. He'd meant to get out into the hallway, but it was too narrow—juts as bad as the cramped study. So he kept running, straight through the hall and up two flights of stairs, hoping to get to the roof where there was sure to be room for a proper brawl. As he reached the end of the staircase, there was a door. He threw it open, and found himself on the roof.

A strangled cry stopped him in his tracks. Turning around, he saw that one of the men had managed to get a hold of Batgirl's cape, successfully pulling her backwards and into his grasp. Instantly, Robin was on the air and on him, his powerful blow sending the man reeling into his companions, making them all—Robin and Bargirl included—tumble down the stairs and straight into last door of the fourth floor hallway. The door, though strong, could not withstand the momentum of eight brawny men and two not-so-slight crime-fighters ramming into it, and collapsed backwards, falling with a sharp, metallic clang on too-clean linoleum floor.

Following his momentum through into a roll, Robin rose to his feet, slightly dizzy. A couple of feet to his right, he saw Batgirl do the same. Some of the men had been rendered unconscious by the fall and impact, but five of them appeared to be well enough to stand up and fight. Allowing them no time to recuperate, Robin made quick work of the two closest to him, his Bo staff knocking the wind out of them and the heel of his hand sending one into obliviousness. The other's temple met with Robin's elbow and he, too, was out cold. The next he dispatched with an uppercut and a solid kick to the torso, though not before the goon got two punches in. When he looked up, he realized Batgirl was through with the other two and was instead staring at something in the center of the room.

Relaxing slightly, Robin finally noticed the pungent odor that filled the room, nauseating and overpowering... and something vaguely familiar under it, that Robin couldn't quite place. Attempting to discern its origin, Robin studied his surrounding as he made his way to Batgirl's side. They were in some kind of medical room… there were a number of machines strew through the room, and several trays of medical instruments and tools. It's more like an O.R. than an infirmary, he reflected, reaching Batgirl and finally seeing what held her so engrossed.

In the center of the room was an operating table. And on it, eyes bulging, jaw slack and open, chest cracked open… was Blockbuster.

Robin at once reconciled the hellish stink with the dead body of Bludhaven's late crime lord. Cause of death? Robin could venture a very safe guess that it had something to do with the gaping hole in his upper chest. The corpse was revolting, the once white skin tinged a putrid yellow, the blood that must've abandoned him days ago pooling into sticky, fetid—

"Well, well, well… I see you found what you were looking for." Torque's voice cut into Robin's morbid fascination. He was standing in the doorway, seemingly unconcerned at the pile of dispatched thugs at his feet. He now carried two firearms, bigger and a hell of a lot more intimidating than his usual tommy-gun. "I really should clean this mess up… but I'm afraid I just haven't had the time… what with a city to run and all that… Poor, dear Blockie---" Soames' voice changed then, and Robin and Batgirl barely had a chance to jump out of the way as the deranged lunatic shot Blockbuster's corpse full of lead. "—didn't even see it coming.

"You could say it was the end of an era… And while we're on the subject, there's another legacy I've been meaning to cut short!" And just like that, the air was full of bullets and thunder. The two costumed heroes dove for cover, Batgirl behind a heart monitor, Robin behind a crash cart. Through the haze, he saw Batgirl trying to establish eye contact. Her lips were moving. Robin frowned for a second, trying to discern her meaning.

"Cover. Me." Robin nodded, took a deep breath—and dashed back out into range. The lead followed him as he crossed the room and dove over a medical cart, appropriating the aluminum tray as some semblance of protection. But there's a reason why aluminum doesn't make for very good bullet-proof vests—in seconds, the tray was done for, having had served its purpose as something shiny for Soames to aim at instead of Robin's head. When the tray outlived its usefulness, Robin threw it at his would-be killer as one would a disk, successfully hitting the eyepiece in his head.

Those few seconds were all the time Batgirl needed. Soames tried to hit her as she flew over his head and landed upright behind him. She winked at his twisted face just before she doused him with chloroform. Torque was out of it before his body could process the command to turn around. The slap of his body as it hit the floor resonated through the room.

Robin frowned; the echoes had lasted long enough. Then he went cold---those were not echoes. It was the sound of clapping. And then he heard a voice that seemed straight out of his nightmares.

"Bravo, Robin." The voice said, in that condescending, sing-song tone it saved specifically for the times in which Robin inadvertently did exactly as it wanted. Robin shut his eyes, desperately hoping that the voice was only in his head. "Bravo. And that girl… she's certainly something." It's not real, it's not him; I'm tired and desperate and imagining things. "Although, to be fair, dear Torque wasn't that much of a challenge, was he? Fool of a man… my orders were that you must be captured alive. How he expected to accomplish that through the use of those two monstrous firearms, one can only guess at…"

Unable to stand it any longer, Robin turned around. From somewhere in the wreckage of the room, a familiar-looking disk was projecting the image of the one person Robin truly despised. And he was grinning---Robin could tell. Under his mask, Slade was grinning.

"Robin… who is this freak?" He was barely aware of Batgirl coming to stand beside him.

"Robin, I'm hurt. You haven't told Batgirl about our time together? How utterly disappointing." With all the venom in his body, Robin acknowledged the villain.

"Slade… I should've guessed you'd have a hand in this."

"A hand in what, precisely?" Robin growled lowly, the mockery in his adversary's voice making his blood feel like shrapnel. "The sudden rise of former Inspector Dudley Soames to the top of the Bludhaven food chain? Blockbuster's failed heart transplant operation? The death of Bruce Wayne?" Slade's sleek, mellifluous voice grew, if possible, even more sinister as he added, "Or should I say, Batman? The location of his innards? Which is it…Richard?" The eye in his mask twinkled.

Robin's mouth went dry. Those names, his and Bruce's, on his tongue… they chilled him to the bone. But he was determined not to play Slade's game, to remain unresponsive to the subtle manipulation he always employed. How he learned their identities was of no consequence---there was nothing to be done about that now. There were other things to focus on.

"Whatever it is you're planning, I will stop you. You won't hurt anyone else ever again!" Robin yelled, his throat raw. The statement was more than a show of bravado, quite useless in the present circumstances; it was the reiteration of a promise much deeper than the meaning of the words chosen to formulate it. In a way, it was an echo of the vow taken long ago by another boy when he, too, was robbed of his parents---a reiteration of the oath Robin had formulated in the face of his own loss.

Only this time, it was directed exclusively at Slade.

"Stop what, my dear boy? It is done. Finished." The masked man laughed a little, low and mirthlessly. "Bruce Wayne is dead. The crime hierarchy of Bludhaven has been re-arranged to fit my will. And I have what I wanted—the means to a most glorious end, one that I've desired for the many years!" For a moment, his laughter escalated into maniacal chuckle---loud, quick and sharp---but he quickly curbed it back into serenity. "That matter, however, is not shat I mean to discuss with you presently---there'll be plenty of time for that later. As I was saying, Robin, it's plain that the time in which you might've acted to stop me—however fruitless that would've been—is long past… But by all means… if you feel there is something you need to do, go ahead. Indulge. I'll even make it easier for you…" The camera panned out and suddenly Robin and Batgirl could see Slade's surroundings. The backdrop to his transmission was a scene neither would easily forget---a close up of Gotham's skyline, its most impressive buildings as seen from a window in the highest floor of the building that stood in the center of it all.

The bastard was standing right in Bruce's office, his back to the panoramic window behind the desk!

"I would absolutely relish your company, especially after that idiot Soames failed to provide me with it. There's so much I want to discuss with you, Robin----matters of the utmost transcendence to both our lives." There it was again, that eerie shadow of a smile beneath the mask. "And just to make sure you do show… I think I'll take a little insurance. Good-bye for now, Robin. Batgirl. I look forward to seeing you both soon." The transmission ended---and suddenly Robin knew what it was that the pungent odor of Blockbuster's carcass masked: the smell of leaking gas—sleeping gas. Mere traces of it, though suddenly all the more intense, as if the chutes through which it had been previously pumped had been re-opened and a fresh batch introduced into the environment. Neither wasted a second, but it was too late; the continued exposure combined with the full force intake of the last few moments proved too much for the masked crime-fighters.

"Batgirl, quick, get--"

"The re-breathers, I can't---"

And just like that, they were swallowed by the black.

Red Notes:

Ok, so there wasn't a lot of Cy, Star, Raven or BB on this chapter. It wasn't intentional. I actually wrote out several other scenes for them, but no matter how I tried to fit them into the chapter, they just ruined the flow of Robin and Batgirl's scenes—which is, of course, nothing but one long scene. I believe the word I'm looking for is 'anticlimactic'. Or something like that. Anyway, those scenes were important, so I had to find a way to allude to them in the next chapter. I particularly grieved the loss of Raven's scene (of which I included only the first few paragraphs) which was, ironically, the only one out the bunch that was completely pointless. Anyway, hopefully I made the right call and the chapter worked.

Slade: Ha! I'm sure a lot of you saw that coming. Ironically, I didn't, not until I sat down to write this chapter. I hope it's not terribly disappointing. But the way I see it, e4nding the whole thing with Blockie was way more predictable than bringing Slade in. Besides, the entire scheme isn't out yet---though I should guess it's easy to imagine what's coming. I hope not, anyway. The original cut of this chapter featured a lot more Slade monologue, but I thought I'd save it for the last chapter. Give it more power, you know? Or try to, at least.

The sleeping gas: Was that terribly lame? I wrote a version in which Sladebots came out of the walls but that just seemed too ridiculous. Especially since Slade was supposedly expecting Soames to deliver Robin and Batgirl. There was also a version with the disk exploding and Robin and Batgirl having to jump out of the building and getting knocked out by the explosion. That one I liked, actually, but ultimately decided against it when I realized that the whole pile of goons would be too many for Rob and Babs to take with them, and I didn't feel comfortable with killing them off. Anyway, at least with the sleeping gas, I could play it like the chutes were---oops, sorry, that's a spoiler right there.

Ok, it's 9:12. I'm off to post this thing. I hope it lived up to any expectations you might've held, and that it was at least entertaining.

Please, don't forget to review and tell me what you think. I love reviews, and there have been ones that I've really been able to take advantage from and that have significantly helped me become a better writer and to improve the quality of this fic. Is that too cheesy? Hahahahaha I'm sorry, but it's the truth. You guys are great reviewers.

--Red Room Flare