AN: So, Guess who is NOT dead :) Yes, Yes, I'm quite excited as well. I apologize for my disappearance and I hope you all can forgive me. I have progress on my other two stories as well, but I don't have the time I used to write. I have not given up on any stories and you can expect more updates on all of them soon. Thank you for sticking with me. Enjoy, and REVIEW!
On Robin's count there were three exits: the door, the vents, and the window; and there was a significant obstacle to each one. The vents, though larger than average, were still slightly too small to crawl through, even for him. The door had a rather large hit-man blocking it. The window had a very similar problem. If Robin dashed for the door he'd be rushing right at Eliot, and that would only add to the long list of stupid things he'd done on the job. Besides, even if he did manage to get past the large man, he'd be running straight downstairs to the rest of the con-artists, all the while broadcasting the news of his escape. No. The window was a much better option. Unfortunately, all Robin's escape plans involved incapacitating Eliot, a daunting task Robin was not looking forward to.
So, that was the plan. Eliot. Window. Brandwein. Teleporter. Home. But he needed a head start. If the team knew he'd escaped they would follow him; and they would get in his way. They were all so blinded by the light of Brandwien's shiny new lie that they wouldn't understand what he was doing. They would think he was running back to Brandwein and spill his guts about their (former) plans, or worse they would think he was trying to complete the con himself. Taking out the CEO was not a priority anymore. Robin just needed to get home, back to Batman, back to Bruce.
"I know that look." Eliot broke the silence. "Don't even try kid. You'll only hurt yourself."
Robin turned to meet his stare, allowing the heat from his gaze to penetrate the dark shades. What he wouldn't give for the familiar pull of his mask against his face. It would help him forget, forget that he wasn't in Gotham, forget that he was about to attack someone who should be his friend. The mask was in a small compartment on his belt, but he couldn't use it. He couldn't put the mask on without revealing to Eliot that Robin was not content to sit here like a little kid in detention. Robin assessed his situation a final time, and now, in the darkened bedroom, he realized just how hard this was going to be. The ceiling was low, which would limit his flips. The furniture limited his mobility as well. The room was small and; therefore, wouldn't allow Robin to maintain much distance from his opponent-a tactic his fighting technique relied heavily upon. He had taken down opponents much larger than Eliot before, but they had all been dull, untrained lackeys. Eliot was smart and he was most certainly well-trained in combat.
Robin repositioned his belt so the Orichalcum was tucked safely at his side, away from any direct kicks or punches. He stood up from the bed and walked slowly to the bookshelf on the other side of the room, placing himself between Eliot and the window.
"What are you doing?" The hitter all but growled.
"Getting a book." Robin snapped back. "Or am I no longer allowed to read?" It was time to leave. It's a game. He told himself, just as he did before every fight to calm his nerves. He could hack a game. It's a game and if I win I can go home. Robin ran through the rules in his head. One: silence. If you break the silence more people come to fight. Elliot responded to Robin's snide comment. Robin ignored him. Two: the furniture is lava. Don't touch anything. If you break the furniture you break the silence. He passed the bookshelf and began walking to the window. Three: Eliot makes the first move. If he approaches you then you have the surprise.
"Hey!" Eliot shouted and began walking quickly towards Robin. The hitter's arm was outstretched as if to grab the teen.
Four: Don't let him touch you. If he grabs you, you lose. Robin stopped. He listened to the footsteps behind him and calculated the older man's stride. He waited until Eliot was only two steps behind him. He waited for the moment when the hitter would lift his foot off the ground. Then, Robin attacked. He dropped down into a crouch, spinning his leg out in an attempt to knock Eliot off balance. It worked. Eliot did not fall, but he had to stumble backwards to regain his footing. This gave Robin enough time to right himself and again charge at Eliot. Eliot predictably dropped into a lower crouch and reached out to grab the young hero. Robin twisted around to dodge the outstretched arm and ducked, sliding between the con-man's legs. Five: no heights stay low. He's too tall for you to attack from above. Robin sprung up and launched himself into a spinning kick. His heel struck the small of the Eliot's back and the large man again stumbled forward. Robin would have liked to add another spin, or perhaps a flip to increase his momentum, but the small space would not allow it.
Eliot recovered quickly turning to face the young hero. Robin backed away, instinctually reaching behind him for his Eskrima sticks and batarangs. He stopped himself and let his hands fall to his sides in a defensive position. Six: No toys. You may need them later. Robin didn't attack again.
Eliot now separated him from the window. Robin had hoped his last attack would draw Eliot into the fight. He was wrong. And now his escape route was significantly more difficult to reach. The two martial artists stood there staring at each other, Robin unwilling to compromise his distance and Eliot unwilling to give up the escape route.
Robin needed Eliot to come to him. He could dodge the elder man, but he could not attack him head on, not in such an enclosed space. Then, Robin smiled. There were three possible escape routes after all. Surely, Eliot had counted as well. He would just have to break a couple of rules. Robin sprinted to his left, vaulted onto the bed and launched himself towards the slightly small vent. He latched onto its covering, squishing his fingers into the thin slits on the grate. Eliot lunged toward the boy. Without slowing his swing, Robin pulled his legs through his arms so that he was basically sitting on the ceiling, and then dropped down onto the man's shoulders. The Blow caused Eliot's knees to buckle. Normally, Robin would have flipped off his victim to cause more pain and pressure on their shoulders, but there was not room above him, so instead he had to simply fall backwards into a handstand before righting himself and attacking again.
Robin thanked whatever deity was looking after him that Eliot had not started shouting and making noise yet. For whatever reason, Eliot was content to play by the rules. Robin attempted another spinning kick. This time Eliot was prepared. The hit-man caught Robin's foot in midair. His grip was crushing and Robin had to bite his lip to keep from crying out in pain. The young hero panicked for a moment. Still, with what momentum remained, Robin continued the spin, knocking his other foot straight into the man's skull. Eliot let go of Robin's leg. It did little to quell the bird's fear, because the moment Robin placed his freed foot on the ground the pain caused his stance to collapse. His ankle was sprained.
Eliot gave the hero no time to recover. The hitter began his offensive by throwing well aimed punched at the boy. It was only due to Robin's expert acrobatics that he was able to dodge them all. Robin was on the defensive now. Eliot seemed to have caught on to Robin's strategy, and was not allowing him any chance of regaining his distance. Robin's foot began to impair his movement, and Elliot began to hit his target. Every punch was well aimed, strategically targeted to cause some pain but never actually injure Robin. They were the kind of punches Batman threw during training. Eliot was swinging much harder than Batman ever did. Still, each hit HURT! The other man was pulling his punches too. For the first time Robin understood what kind of a man Eliot was: the kind Batman never let him fight alone.
Robin was going to lose.
Elliot continued to land hits. Robin was making no progress. In one last attempt for victory, Robin broke another rule. He drew his Eskrima sticks. Eliot hesitated. Robin's opponent seemed shocked at the sudden emergence of the weapons, but just as Eliot hadn't allowed Robin to nurse his ankle, Robin gave Eliot no time to adjust to his surprise. In that one moment of weakness, Robin swung his weapons as hard as he could manage and struck the man once again in the skull. Eliot dropped to the floor unconscious.
Robin limped over to his beaten opponent, breathing heavily. He hated to do this. The thought of fighting these people, good people, with weapons he reserved for the scum of Gotham made him sick. But Eliot hadn't left him with many options. Quickly, Robin produced a set of normal handcuffs and restrained Eliot. Robin gagged him too-he really didn't want to-in order to ensure he had the largest head start possible. Robin wrote a quick apology on a nearby post-it note and stuck it to Eliot's forehead. Robin cringed, Eliot wwould have a large bruise there later. Then, hobbling on one foot to the window, Robin drew his grappling hook and disappeared into the cold night air.
Hardison buried his face in his hands. He had just finished finding every file on Brandwein and deleted EVERY. LAST. ONE. Apparently, when Nate said they were scrapping the con, he meant they were letting the entire thing go! Any attempts at conning the CEO of Future Industries were forever forfeited. In fact, the next thing on Hardison's To Do List was calling an inconsolable widow and explaining how they had completely and utterly failed at bringing her justice.
The hacker slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of him. The time read 2:34 am. Calling Mrs. Brown would have to wait until morning. What Hardison needed now was a distraction. The unmarked file folder isolated on the top right corner to the screen caught his attention. They were Robin's files. When Hardison first realized someone had hacked into Lucille's server, he was quick to steal all their files. But Robin's encryptions were so sophisticated that Hardison felt he was creating more obstacles than he was breaking down. Perhaps it was time to give the files another hack, especially after recent revelations.
The hacker eagerly opened the files and began typing code. He made no progress. He tried new tricks, old tricks, tricks that involved smashing the keyboard against the desk, and even a little bit of voodoo magic before he closed the files, feeling utterly and completely defeated. An entire hour, wasted. Again. He glared at the animated Robin blinking on his screen sursing the small teen for his ingenuity. Nothing was unhackable, but this was pretty damn close. Something Robin had said earlier surfaced in his mind, something about a trick using backdoors and skeleton keys. Of course! Robin had created a backdoor in Hardison's system and used a "key" to let himself in. The boy would have no doubt placed the same backdoor in his own software so that if anyone ever actually succeeded in hacking the kid, Robin could still access his files and regain control! And the key was still in Hardison's system.
A few key strokes and a victory dance later, Hardison was staring at dozens of opened files with a predatory grin plastered on his face. AGE OF THE GEEK, BABY! Hardison praised himself. Each new file seemed to be a folder for other smaller ones. The groupings were confusing. Hardison opened the one labeled "JL." Another password screen greeted him. Hardison groaned. Luckily, the skeleton key worked more than once, and the folder was soon open for him to browse.
Every File was identified by a few words-they looked like names and titles-followed by a two digit code. Occasionally this code was preceded by the letter "B." There was nothing on Brandwein. In fact, nothing here seemed important at all. Why would Robin go through such lengths to protect these files? Hardison was thoroughly perplexed by the whole system. Currently, he was perusing the "secret identity" of "THE FLASH 04." Hardison laughed, the boy certainly had a wonderful imagination. He doubted even he could think up so many crazy superheroes. But the last file puzzled him. "Robin B01." Why would Robin have a file about himself with all these stories? Did he fancy himself a hero too? That couldn't be healthy.
Hardison opened the file. It was exactly like the others. Hardison chuckled over its contents. This kid should be a writer. But something was floating, unreachable, in the back of his mind, something about the kid. Some of the kid's descriptions about himself were dead on. Immature, genius IQ, and expert hacker were all traits Hardison had witnessed first-hand. The only traits listed in the file he hadn't seen were expert martial-artist and acrobat.
Then it hit him.
He saved me from falling through the ceiling, and he helped me attach that box-thingy to the server, and then he took out this one guard with a twirly-flippy-kick-thingy. Parker's voice pierced his thoughts, and finally everything fell into place. Stories of other dimensions, cities he'd never heard of, technology he'd never seen, detailed, practically unhackable files that seemed useless: it all made sense, in a weird sci-fi- twisted kind of way. But he had to be certain. Hardison searched for all the documents tying the kid to Brandwein, praying he was crazy. He wasn't. Instead, he watched as Brandwein's story fell apart before his eyes.
"NAAAAAATE!" Hardison screamed across the room.
"What!" Nate snapped back with his whiskey in hand.
"Have you heard from Eliot?" Hardison asked tentatively.
"He's upstairs with the kid." Nate replied, spite dripping from the word kid.
"Yes, but have you actually heard from Eliot in say...the past hour?"
Now everyone had stopped what they were doing and turned to stare up at the stairs. Eliot may not talk often, but the man was hardly a quiet person. The four remaining con-men shared a collective look of horror, and then, all at once, bounded up the stairs in a mad dash to the bedroom.
