Chapter 16
"I...love you."
SLINCK-KC-CRACK!
Nightwing stood over her, eyes pulsing wildly, his pole extended. He looked surprised, horribly so. "H-how dare you!"
Starfire gasped before glancing at the burning hole of fire. Tears streaked her eyes as the full, white-hot waves of pain struck. Trying to move, she found herself pinned to the tree behind her, the blade piercing her flesh and bones just below the shoulder-bone. She looked up, mouth agape, panting harshly. Nausea struck her suddenly. She vomited.
Nightwing suddenly snarled, seemingly snapping out of whatever little world he had decided to traipse upon for those scant few moments. As Starfire began to lift her head, he helped her further by grabbing her hair and smashing her head into the tree, leaving the pole where it was. "I asked you a question!"
Smash! The tree shuddered again.
Starfire simply stared at him, her lips moving slowly. No sound came out.
Frustrated, the psychotic assassin simply smashed his fist across her face. She jerked, causing the blade to tear her further.
She whimpered.
"I told you to leave him alone!" Smash! "I highly suggest you do!" Smash. "You don't love him, you hate him! Hate this thing he is! Hate this perfection!" Smash! Smash! Crack!
He stepped back, wrenching the pole free, watching carelessly as the blood ran in rivulets down the weapon's shaft. "Well, nothing for it then." He grinned, kicking the girl solidly in the chest. She hit the earth, tears leaking, eyes wide and despondent. The green emeralds flickered softly as those the blade was pressed into the earth an inch from her nose. "Want to retract that statement? It'd make him less restless and me happy. If you do, I'll make this fast."
Slowly, Starfire turned her head. "I...l-love...y-you m-m-more than c-can be im-imagined." A soft smile flitted across her face. "Y-your eyes. They're bl-blue."
Lifting a brow, Nightwing hoisted the pole up. "Eh, so they are."
Clank!
Slice!
A projectile struck the blade, knocking it out of surprised hands, followed closely by a second, which stuck into Nigthwing's stomach. Grunting, he wrenched whatever it was out and brought it up to his face. A throwing knife, imprinted with the symbol of a chess knight, reflected back his own startled blue eyes. "Crap..."
Bruce slammed into the assassin with incredible force, throwing him to the floor. "Don't suppose you missed me?" The billionaire stood over his former pupil, glaring. "Or were you having too much fun butchering girls?"
Growling like some feral animal, Nightwing stood. Waving his hand at Bruce, he stumbled back, bleeding. "My fight is not with you."
Bruce glanced down at the bleeding, silent girl. He looked back up. "It is now." He swung powerfully at Nightwing's face. Not surprisingly, it didn't connect. The agile assassin ducked, only to be met by the other fist ramming into his chin. He was forced back, grabbing his jaw, working it around a bit.
Snarling, Bruce came at him again, swinging a leg at Nightwing's chest.
Thinking quickly, the assassin let the kick land before grabbing the leg and stabbing the throwing knife deep into his benefactor's thigh. Then, he shoved Bruce off, throwing a powerful kick at an awkward angle.
The blow connected with the small of Wayne's back, forcing him into an ungainly stumble. Nearly tripping over his own feet, the billionaire was able to whip out two knives in quick succession.
Thunk! Thunk!
Both landed, digging into Nightwing's chest. That stopped him. Gasping and wheezing, he touched his new wounds, bringing his blood drenched hand to his face. His heart beat wildly from exertion and adrenaline, pushing his life out of his veins faster. The world tipped and spun as blood loss began to find its foothold. With a dull thud, the ground accepted his body as his awareness fled.
Bruce watched him for a few moments before moving towards Starfire. Lifting her head gently, he stared into her listless eyes. "Starfire, listen to my voice. Can you hear me? I need you to follow my finger with your eyes." He waved a digit in the air before her face. She simply stared straight ahead. Bruce cursed softly.
"Why? Wh-why do I...love h-h-him?"
Bruce was too busy trying to stop her bleeding to really answer. "Good, good, keeping talking. Let's hear what you have to say."
"I c-cann-not help it. My h-heart is...misplaced." She convulsed slightly. "Why?"
Placing an arm on her forehead, Bruce shushed her. "Quiet, quiet. I'll just call for transport. Just sit there."
The Tamaranian warrior stared unseeingly at the great blue sky.
---
Click-Beep.
Click-Beep.
Starfire stirred beneath the bedsheets, bringing her palm to her face, staring through her fingers at the high, painted ceiling, tracing with her eyes the lines and shapes of dancing cherubim and cavorting satyrs. Light seeped in from the massive window overlooking the drab city, in all its massive, steel and concrete glory. The sounds of the streets below faintly filtered in through an ajar window somewhere. A grandfather clock ticked away the time in its slow, methodical way. She sighed, sighed, sighed for a long moment, finally glancing over to where a tall, tuxedoed servant was patiently waiting with a tray of food. She didn't say anything, simply stared at him. He moved forward.
"Madame, Master Wayne has asked for this meal to be brought to you." White hair, crisp walk, cultured voice. Definitely a butler.
"Who...are you?" Starfire was faintly surprised at the hoarseness of her voice. But, everything seemed distant right now, as if she was still suspended between the world of sleeping dreams and the world of true nightmares.
"Alfred, Madame. I was ordered to watch over you during your recuperation." The man stood stiffly and set the tray over her sheet swaddled torso gently, wishing to upset neither the patient nor the many, many tangled clear wires laid like spaghetti over her still form. "And a part of your recovery includes the advent of your appetite." He motioned stiffly with his head at the tray.
Click-beep!
Looking up slowly, she stared up slowly at the heart monitor, before looking back at her food. Slowly, she reached for the slice of bread.
"There's a good girl," hummed the butler, turning to leave.
"No," croaked Starfire, still unused to her voice. "Stay. Please."
Glancing over his shoulder, he turned, lifting an eyebrow. "Dear girl, my instructions were to deliver the food."
"But, this room...it's so big." Starfire felt exceedingly like a little girl, once again, she was lonely. "I just...want to ask some questions."
Alfred stood in silence for a moment, then smiled. It was tight, and dry, but nonetheless genuine and surprisingly warm. "Of course." Pulling up a chair, he sat beside the bed. "What is it you need to know?"
"Where is Nightwing?"
The question instantly registered a look of sorrow and anger flung together, something Starfire did not expect from the straight man.
"He is incapacitated, at the moment. Worry not, you are in no danger whatsoever."
"That's...," Starfire struggled to get up. "That's not what I meant."
The butler frowned slightly and pushed her softly back down. "I know very well what you meant, Madame. Unfortunately, you best forget about it. His soul is gone to chaos, I'm afraid." There was more sorrow than anything in that last statement. "Master Di-Master Nightwing might as well be dead, my dear. There is something quite new and quite horrific in his place."
"Who?"
Alfred sighed, rubbing his face. "Deathwing."
---
Nightwing, or rather, Deathwing, watched as Bruce paced in front of him, his heels clicking against the cold, cold tile.
"So, you've returned, hm?" The black shoes stopped before the assassin. "And what's going to happened this time?"
Deathwing struggled slightly in the straight-jacket, thrashing silently for a moment, before looking up slowly, grinning. "Oooh, the good times have come again, Bruce. The new times are becoming the old times. The live souls will become the dead souls." He chuckled maniacally. "The Second Apocalypse."
Bruce's eyes widened for a brief moment. But only for a moment. Crouching, he leveled his eyes to the cold, empty blue ones. "It will most certainly not come, Dick."
At this, the deranged killer thrashed, moving to bite at the face before him. Bruce moved quickly out of reach, anger clouding his face. He struck Deathwing across the face. "The First Apocalypse was a fluke. Something that, under normal circumstances, would have not happened."
Pale blue eyes twinkled almost merrily up at Bruce. He shook his head, as if patronizing the poor fool before him. "Ahh, but don't you feel it in the wind? Humans and their filth shall be cleansed. The streets will once again run with blood. Light will forfeit to that hideous strength which comes. I am more than a killer, Bruce." The grin widened. "I am a harbinger."
Bruce snarled and struck the smiling face. "How can you smile? Do you realize how many people died? Billions!"
Smirking, the assassin shifted slightly. "Wasn't it beautiful? It was a glorious purification." Sitting up from where the blow had thrown him, Deathwing chuckled gleefully. "Oh, it shall be a wondrous time, full of oceans of blood and forests of corpses."
Bruce stood over him, breathing heavily. "Shut up. I'll kill you. You know very well I could."
Cocking his head, the lunatic closed his eyes and grinned innocently. And, frighteningly, it was genuine. "Oh, but you know very well Nightwing, you're precious Richard Grayson, lurks within me somewhere. Wouldn't it be terrible, so very horrible, if you killed him? His blood would be on your hands."
He was getting to him. Bruce knew it. But, there was something he needed to know. "How does Starfire fit into all this?"
"Why," murmured the assassin, "She doesn't. She will die before the week is out. According to the laws that govern me, anyway." He looked up slowly, showing his teeth again. "One of us must die. And to be sure, it won't be me."
Wayne snarled a final time. "Well, perhaps the rules will change." Turning on his heel, he left abruptly.
"Incurable romantic," murmured the unfamiliar voice at the closed door.
Hey...Um, first off, I'm looking for a Beta Reader for my stories. I need someone not only to double check my spelling and grammar and such, but I also need someone to help me keep true to the characters, the story-line, and someone to tell me if I'm progressing the story to fast. If you're interested, gimme an e-mail.
Ah, yes, the chapter. I've been reading some C.S. Lewis lately and I made to allusions to the story I'm reading in this chapter somewhere. If you can find them, I'd be very surprised. Unfortunately, the first part of this chapter was a terrible disappointment. I felt like a total failure and gave up for about a week. Then, lo and behold, I felt as if I should return to the story. And, I'm happy to say that the rest of the chapter, though it had no fighting, was satifactory. And for those Rob/Star fans...she finally said it. Happy? Ergh. I could have done so much better. Next chappie, the plot...I dunno, makes pudding? (Duh-hur-hur. Get it? Thickens? Dur-Hur-HThwap Ow!)
Also, I've hit beyond the ONE HUNDRED MARK ON THE REVIEWS!11!eleventeen! Thank you all for the contributions and comments on this story, be it flame or appreciator (I haven't been getting enough critiquing flames, people!). Seeing also this is the first story of mine this has happened to, then, um, let's not get to greedy but...HERE'S TO THE NEXT HUNDRED!
-Raz(illa)