[A/N] Look. Holy Shit. An update before 6 months. I'm not a fan of this chapter, but I'm hoping to pick up on the action in the next few chapters. Thanks for sticking with me.

Chapter Eight

Robin caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the Pizza Parlor's windows as he stumbled by. He paused at the sight. His uniform was torn and ripped, hair coated in rubble and dust, turning him into the image of an ancient teenager. To top that, his face was covered in small scratches and splashed with blue and red. He looked absolutely ridiculous. And tired. And a bit angry, if the tightness around his jaw was any kind of clue. He could see the people inside the shop gaping at his reflection, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Friend Robin?" A shy voice called out behind him. It was distorted and muffled by the damage the blast had done to his ears. He turned to face the Tamaranian, careful to keep his eyes off of hers.

"Oh, Robin…" He could feel her hands brushing up against his face, running up to his hairline. Her hands were soft and cool, so when pain flared at the side of his head, he didn't understand. She touched the spot again, and he turned away from her touch with a hiss.

"We failed." He whispered, taking her hand in his gloved one and pulling it from his face.

"Robin." Cyborg came into view, his own body covered in rubble and blue dye, as well. "We didn't fail. Sure, we didn't plan for this, but no one was seriously injured and-"

"The bomber will be in the hospital for days. Beast Boy broke his arm. The bank is a pile of rubble. We are covered in blue dye."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"How did we not fail?" Robin turned his back on his teammates and continued down the sidewalk.

"Friend Robin!"

"Let him go, Starfire. Let him go."

_-_-_-_-BREAK_-_-_-_-_

By the time Robin made his way back to the Titan's Tower, he had lost some of the anger. He knew that his team could not have completely controlled the outcome of the bank robber. They hadn't been prepared. They couldn't have guessed that the man would have a bomb strapped to him. And they couldn't have guessed that the man would be stupid enough to put another bomb in the bag of money he was trying to steal with a timer on it. So when Raven managed to get the robber to remain still and Robin and Cyborg had pulled the bomb off the man, and disarmed the main charge, they thought they had been done. Cyborg tossed it aside. A minute later, as Beast Boy was leading the man out of the building, a secondary charge blew.

Sure, no one had died, but Robin should have known better. He should have guessed that something was wrong with the scenario. Batman taught him better, and he was sure that Batman already knew about this and already had something to say about it. But he would worry about that later. Right now, he needed to know that his team was okay.

_-_-_-_-BREAK_-_-_-_-_

Slade had spent way too long watching the dark doctor work. He had played chess against himself in his mind ten times already, always ending in a stalemate, and still the Scarecrow was mixing chemicals and altering formulas. Soon he would need the test subjects, and Slade would have to be careful. They were, after all, still in Gotham and he had already garnered the Bat's attention. It would not do to have this plan interrupted by the genius of a man with pointy ears and a thing for capes. His eye narrowed at his guest across the room.

"How much longer, Scarecrow?"

"Don't interrupt me."

Slade raised an eyebrow. The god of fear was lucky Slade needed him right now, but when his task was completed…

"Don't leave the building." Slade told him, slipping out of the shadows where he had been watching his guest. He had already put a tracker on the straw man, and could make sure he didn't leave the building from anywhere. He had somewhere to be, after all, and someone to see.

_-_-_-_BREAK-_-_-_-_-_

The night sat heavy on his shoulders, the humidity weighing him down against the rooftop where he lay in wait. He could feel his skin practically vibrating with anticipation. It wasn't every day that he got a chance to catch sight of Batman. He had been told to wait here and he would see the knight of Gotham in person. The message had just appeared in his inbox that morning, and he could not resist showing up. After all, what else was he going to do? Sit at home and catalog his newspaper clippings?

The sky hung in low ribbons around the moon, leaving little light to see shadows by. It was drizzling and his fingertips were getting cold. He had been waiting for an hour already. He shifted in the dark and was beginning to suspect that Martha had been playing a trick on him when he felt a presence behind him.

"I believe you're waiting for me." A low voice reached his ears, and he began to roll over on his back. "Stay where you are." He froze. That voice. So commanding. He shivered. Batman. Batman was here. Talking to him.

"Did you bring it?"

"Yes." He whispered. He still couldn't believe that it had been Batman to contact him. That Batman knew about his catalog, about his project. He couldn't believe that Batman was interested in him. But then again, how could he not be as interested in Brandon as Brandon was in Batman. "I almost didn't believe it was you. That you read my work."

"Don't sell yourself short." The voice said and Brandon glowed in the moonlight. He handed the binder over to the figure behind him and when he didn't hear anything for a minute, turned around.

"Batman?"

There was no one on the rooftop. The only trace of the man was a small clipping that had fallen from the binder. It read "The Fall of the Flying Graysons." And beneath the title was a picture of a family smiling and waving to an invisible crowd.