Hey young blood
Doesn't it feel like our time is running out?
I'm gonna change you like a remix
Then I'll raise you like a phoenix
~Fall Out Boy
Chapter Three
"But you'll never guess who the one to bring him was."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. The woman holding the phone pursed her lips and her fingers tapped against the wood grain of her chair. She was not a terribly patient woman when it came to things that she didn't know.
"Spit it out. I haven't got all day. There is much for me to do."
"The third one. Black? Blake?"
"Drake."
"Yeah, that's the one. He's on his way with the boy's body. I would get everyone ready."
She snapped her phone shut ending the call. Her men were used to the abrupt endings to most of the conversations that they would have with her.
This presented her with a problem. The others she could deal with. The circus boy was a nuisance, but dealing with him would not be an issue. He was a good soldier, but more often than not, he allowed emotions to cloud his judgment. Todd was similar in the same way. Only he was more apt to go for an outcome that would benefit him more than others. Her Beloved she knew how to get him to do what she wanted. He may protest and attempt to do his own will, but in the end, she would always get what she wants.
But Drake. He was a different breed. He had the intelligence of her own Beloved, but possessed the heart of the circus boy, and every bit as willing to do what it would take to protect those he loved. He had even earned her father's respect and the title of Detective, a title previously held by her Beloved.
But why would he be the one to bring back her son?
From what she knew about his relationship with her son, Drake had hated Damian. Damian hadn't like the older boy either, and he made no qualms about keeping it hidden. He'd even tried to kill his adopted brother.
So why would Drake be the one to bring back Damian?
"Leave me," Talia said waving away her guards.
"Yes, Princess." Obediently they backed away out of her sight. She knew that they weren't far into the shadows. Orders from her father, she figured.
She stood from the chair she had been reclining on and began to walk about her room with her hands clasped behind her back. She tossed her head aside, removing her hair from in front of her face. Her hard face became harder as she thought about what to do.
Talia chewed over the two options that presented themselves to her. Both plans needed to be carried out perfectly in order to prevent any unnecessary, damages.
She stared at the trunk that contained all of the mementos of a dream long forgotten. Her decision was made clear. She snapped her fingers to summon one of her guards.
"Yes?" He asked obediently.
"Post extra guards around the Pit. No one goes in without my authority first. Extra patrols around the perimeter until further notice. Understand?" Talia said not looking behind her at the assassin.
"Yes." He turned to leave.
"And one more thing. My father is to have no word of this. Is that clear?" Her voice dripped with venom.
"Yes, Princess."
He left the room and Talia looked towards the setting sun, thinking about things had they gone the way that she had planned.
The hike to the secret entrance took a few more hours than he thought that it would actually take. He thought that he would be able to get to the entrance before sundown and her he was, finally getting to the doorway to the future and the moon was lighting up the desert. But he made it.
It took all of his strength to move aside the large bolder that sat in front of the hole leading down to the pit. He wasn't as strong as Bruce or Jason, or even Nightwing, his physical form prevented that, but he was going to do this. And he did. It may have taken him a little longer than he would have liked with Damian strapped to his back, but he made due.
Tim took a small sip of water. He needed to save most of it for Damian. Not that he had personal experience, but he assumed that when Damian came out he would want to have something to drink.
He ducked under into the tunnel, being careful of Damian's head. Although he didn't understand just why he was being so careful. He was just going to dump Damian in a pit that would restore him to his body and heal all of the injuries that he might receive. And yet he was careful. Respect for the dead, he assumed.
Tim crept down the tunnel, listening to the water drip on the puddle on the floor. He crouched, being a little taller than what the tunnel actually allowed for. But in crouching he was dragging the tops of Damian's red converse against the rock floor. Tim allowed a half wince. Damian took pride in his shoes and would kill anyone who damaged his stuff. He could just feel the fifty dollars to buy him new ones leave his pocket already.
He continued his trek. He didn't know just how long he had been walking. His muscles were beginning to ache from carrying Damian and crouching for the extended period of time. He stopped suddenly when heard the whispered murmurings of people. It took him a moment to realize that they were speaking in Arabic. Even though his Arabic was a bit rusty, he managed to understand the last half of the sentence.
"-why we're here."
There was a noise, maybe a snort, but the talking ended after that. The men that were there knew better than to try and follow their own thoughts. That was treason and traitors were killed.
He pulled out a few of the darts that were laced with an anesthetic that would knock them out for a few hours. But that was much longer than he needed. From what he'd gathered from Jason and from others when he thought he would bring back his loved ones, the process would only take a few minutes. If that.
Tim was tempted to take Damian off of his back and come back for him after he'd dealt with the guards, but he didn't want to leave an opportunity for Damian's body to be stolen away.
So he crept forward. He pulled the dart gun from one of his pockets and readied to fire the first dart. Tim knew that he would have to work quickly once he blew the first dart to get the other assassins. He peeked over a rock and took a survey of those that were there.
Ten. He took out a few more of the darts and rolled them in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he blew the first dart.
The assassin fell to the ground with a small thump. Quickly Tim reloaded his dart gun, aimed, and shot another. He too went down. And it didn't matter how fast he knocked out the assassins, it wasn't fast enough.
One of the guards turned around and looked to see six of his comrades on the ground with bat-darts sticking out of their exposed skin. As he was opening his mouth a dart was sticking out of his neck. He collapsed, his sword clanging against the rock around him. Another spun at the noise semi-automatic ready to fire.
"Damn!" He shouted, gun aiming at the walls without any direction. A dart hit him in the shoulder and as he fell, his finger pulled the trigger, firing a few shouts up into the roof.
"We're under attack! Inform the Princess!" One of them shouted.
Tim darted the one that was speaking and watched as one of their number escape out into the main part of the compound.
"Dammit," Tim muttered. His timeline got much more compact.
He hopped down from the perch where he was standing and went to the Pit avoiding the unconscious assassins on the ground. He withdrew one of Batarangs and cut the rope holding up the makeshift harness, unceremoniously dropping Damian to the ground. He reached down, hastily removed the line and picked up Damian's body.
"Let's get this over with," he muttered before tossing his little brother into the glowing waters of the Lazarus pit.
The assassin ran as quickly as he could through the twisting turns and tunnels as he tried to get the main hall. He didn't think about using the intercom system to alert the rest to the intruder's presence. Adrenaline was running through his system as he finally crashed through the main hall's doors.
The conversation that was in the room ceased. All eyes turned to see who had entered the room. Their eyes were cold and expectant, wondering who had interrupted their solitude. The princess turned her eyes from the plans she had been reviewing to look at him.
He swallowed. For a moment he forgot just why he ran all the way here. Talia cleared her throat.
"The Pit is under attack," He said finally with no amount of wavering in his voice. "Unknown amount of attackers. I never got a look at them."
"One."
"Pardon?" He asked. His eyes never wavered from staring straight ahead of him.
"A single attacker. One of by Beloved's wards, there to resurrect my son. Take a legion and apprehend him. He must not be allowed to place my son in the Pit." She turned back to the plans that she had been reviewing.
The assassin stood there for a little bit longer.
"What are you waiting for? Go."
He gave a little jump and quickly turned to find a legion that would break from their training or patrol that would take on the single intruder. But as he ran through the tunnels to where there would be such a platoon, he wondered.
What kind of a kid has the ability to take down nearly a dozen of the best trained assassins without revealing himself? And would one more group of assassins be enough to stop him?
His heart was beating loudly. He was sure that those on the other side of the door could hear every best of his heart. He always hated these types of house calls. Not that he had to do many of them, considering that everyone that would be interested practically lived all in one place.
He was doing this against possibly his better judgment. He was certainly doing this against Bruce's wishes. Bruce didn't want to involved any more people than were already involved. Himself, Bruce, Alfred, Jason, and Barbara. But Dick knew that one more person that needed to be told.
Dick raised his hand to knock on the apartment door. He faltered and his hand lowered. Another hand gripped his reassuringly. He looked down to see his red-headed fiancée giving an understanding smile. She reached out and knocked on the door. Barbara squeezed his hand as the door opened.
A bathrobe and towel wearing Stephanie Brown opened the door.
"Oh, hey guys. What's up?" She said with a smile. She wiped a stray blonde hair from her face.
Dick tried to give a smile, but his heart weighed too heavy for him to keep it up on his face for longer than a fleeting second. Stephanie took notice.
"What's wrong?" She asked her bright blue eyes shifting back and forth from the two people at her door.
"Perhaps it would be best if we brought this conversation indoors. We probably won't want wandering ears to overhear private information," Barbara said.
"Yeah, yeah, of course, c'mon in. Don't mind the mess, or my wardrobe." She opened the door wider and allowed for Dick and Barbara to enter.
"Don't worry about it, Dick has a habit of not wearing anything around my apartment after he gets out of the shower," Barbara shared, smirk on her face.
Dick choked for a moment under the combined smirks of both heroines. He rested his hand on a chair as he regained his breath. "That only happened once. It just so happened that all of my clothes were in the laundry at the time. And, you said that you were never going to mention that again."
"Whoops. But we are here for another reason, not to discuss your wardrobe when you exit the shower."
The somber mood returned with full force. Dick deflated onto the secondhand sofa in the living room. Stephanie sat next to him, careful not to show anyone what they wouldn't want to see.
"What's going on?"
Dick opened his mouth for a moment, but shut it again. He took a deep breath, and with his eyes closed, spewed out his news.
"Tim's gone."
"What? What do you mean Tim's gone? He's not- He can't-"
"We don't know," Barbara inserted.
"What do you mean you don't know? You should know if you're here to tell me that he's gone."
"He's gone into the League of Assassins to use their Lazarus Pit."
Stephanie stood up sharply. She looked rapidly from Barbara to Dick. She began to slowly shake her head at the thought.
"No. No, he wouldn't do that. He knows that that would basically lead to suicide. And he didn't even like Damian. Why would he risk his life for someone that he didn't even like? I thought that he was smarter than that. Oh, God. Timmy." She sank to the floor.
Barbara wheeled over to comfort her protégé. Stephanie clutched tightly to Barbara's waist, tears ghosting down her cheeks.
"How could he do this? I thought that we meant more to him than this." Stephanie sniffled.
"Oh, honey, we do. There is nothing that he wouldn't do to keep us happy and safe. He puts his own health in jeopardy whenever one of us is in any type of trouble. He's that darn workaholic complex, ya'know?"
Dick watched as the two women held each other at the news. A part of him wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut. Putting Steph through all of this pain hurt. But another part of him defended his actions. Steph live in Gotham and would notice the absence of her ex-boyfriend, if not sooner than later. Cass was one thing who often went out of touch, but Steph was in constant contact.
Steph turned her face to look at Dick.
"Are we going to get him back?"
"It's hard to say Steph. It's really hard to say," He responded. It only took him a moment before he joined his fiancée and a close friend on the floor in their embrace. Together they just held each other and waited for a brighter day to come.
He couldn't breathe. He could feel as his lungs tried to expand, yet no air was entering into them. His heart was beating, yet he knew he was dying, dead. A living corpse. He waited for oblivion to surround him. But each passing moment was added agony. Why wasn't he dying?
His eyes shot open. He expected to see the Heretic standing above him with his own blood dripping down the sword. Instead he saw glowing green water. In shock, he inhaled. He clawed his way out.
His lungs hit oxygen and he began coughing. His ears heard something, but were unable to place it. He clawed at whatever was tightening around his neck. His wild blue eyes searched frantically.
Then he realized that it was him who was screaming.
A/N: Ta-Da! Guess who's back?! The action should be picking up now. And remember to review. :D