Sagittarius. The archer. Yes indeedy, here comes Roy – finally! Yay!
Ironically, Sagittarius is my own star-sign, but that's obviously not why I picked it. I know I've been teasing about Roy since Black Magic, and you've all been very patient. He's finally here now, in a fifteen years older form, known to DCU-goers as Roy Harper/Arsenal. I'm afraid he doesn't actually feature in this story as Speedy – but you get Arsenal instead, which is nearly as good, right?
Well, I just hope you're not disappointed by him.
Hm, I am sensing a slight loss of interest in this story now that the time-travel twist has settled down. I mean, no-one has actually blatantly said "OMG, this is totally boring, see ya!" in their review, and I do not think I am arrogant in the presumption that most of you will read right through to the end, if only to see how I write myself out of this, because a lot of you have read right through from Asylum and it would be dumb for you to quit now after all that, right? But yes, I noticed that some of you noted in your reviews that this was getting bland and unpredictable.
You might be right there, in the sense that time travel has been done a million times before, and pretty much always follows the same pattern. I know what you mean, and I agree with you, but… well, I have written the whole of Remember the Titans. I've written myself out of this bland mess already and I think it's turned out okay.
An awful lot of this fic might be predictable; but there's an awful lot that's not. Trust me. You wanna see some of the surprises I have in store – and keep reading, and you will see them.
Puleeeeeeze?
Anyway, thanks to; Kami Elf (actually, I wasn't too tired to write ANs, I was just too lazy, but thankyou so much for the very kind defence. I am writing them this time to thank you! Enjoy Arsenal!); Quinn and His Quill (ah, thankyou so much for that well-put, thoughtful and deep review, Quinn. I was most humbled by your wonderful and superior way with the English language…); YamiTai (what seems like a million years ago, I promised you Roy. And here he is. I am very excited to hear your opinion on him – I hope you aren't disappointed by him); LoopyLouise123 (aww, yeah, feel the love for Alfie! I love Alfred and his dry wit… Hope you like Roy too!); Narroch (wow, look at you, astride your Bitch Mobile… O.o What did I do to deserve this? Just kidding, I am just glad you liked seeing OOC ZOMG Bruce… And yes, don't be getting all like "Rawr" and in my face about making you wait because it's your damn fault so get back in your bloody cage and get writing/colouring!); Guardian of Azarath (Yes, Roy is certainly a smoother character than Bruce, so you can bet this meeting will be slick. Or slimy. Whichever you prefer…); The FallenAngel67 (wow, yay, thankyou sooooooooooooo much! I'm so glad you're still reading, too, and I really appreciate that you take the time and effort to read it when English is not your first language. I know I couldn't do what you do…); Athena's Wings (Batman is one of my favourite heroes too. My favourite, I think. Apart from Robin. :P I hope this update was quick enough for you); Me (Gyah! Calm down! Here's Roy! Take him and leave me alone!); TheLon3Wolf8986 (where am I going with this? You can't really tell at the moment, but I actually have dropped a bunch of hints. You just need to know where to look… Guess you'll just have to keep reading, huh?); Raven Victoria Grayson (another one tired with the time travelling phenomena? Don't worry, it is all going somewhere… eventually…); Simmie (I've never been unfortunate enough myself to have anyone close to me forget who I am (although maybe some of them might like to… O.o), but yeah, I'd imagine it hurts a lot. That was pretty much my interpretation of it…); and Crazy Insomniac (whoa, you were lucky there, dude... talk about a last minute review. I just got an email alert for it about five minutes ago... Hey, upon reading your simultaneous reviews for both Remember the Titans and Nevarmore, I noticed that both chapters featured Batman. It wasn't deliberate, and I didn't notice before now...).
And now… Roy. And some other familiar faces too…
Sagittarius
(a.k.a Robin's Adventures in a Sleazy Downtown Gotham Nightclub)
"88 BPM?" Robin read, confused.
"It stands for "88 Beats Per Minute"," Terra explained. "You know, as in a heartbeat?"
"Oh, right."
Robin nodded as he looked up at the nightclub before where he and Terra stood on a dark, filthy Gotham street. Roy – known to Robin as "Speedy" – Harper's club. It actually appeared to be in better condition than the clubs flanking it, especially considering that it was quite of out the way in Downtown Gotham, several blocks from the club Robin had fled for his life from only the night before.
It was a large premises, with a double doorway and a crimson neon sign reading 88 BPM in a brilliant showcard font above it. It was a little run-down, but that was probably because it had been standing there for years, way before Roy Harper had taken it over and turned it into a club. The walls, painted black, were a little cracked and mossy and peeling slightly, and someone had sprayed "Puffy AmiYumi Rock!" in fading neon green spray-paint on the left side of the doorway. The beat of the music playing from within – it sounded like heavy metal – echoed far beyond it, and Robin could actually feel the filthy pavement vibrating beneath his feet.
"Have you got your clock?" Terra asked him as she went to push open the door.
Robin nodded, looking down at the Clock of Eternity clutched to his chest.
"Then let's get off this rat-infested back alley," she murmured. "And Robin…" She looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. "Not that you don't look good in those clothes – entirely the opposite in fact – but just… stay real close to me, okay? Don't go off by yourself, especially not dressed like that, you know what I mean?"
Robin's masked eyes widened as he looked at the closed doorway of the club.
"What do you… there are gay people in here, aren't-"
Terra didn't allow him to finish, instead pushing him into the club in front of her.
"Terra, answer me!" Robin hissed furiously as Terra pulled the doors shut behind them.
"Yes, there are," Terra replied simply. "In fact, I'd say that over halfof the guys in here are gay. Most of 'em won't do you any harm, but just… watch out, okay? Stick close to me and they won't go near you."
"But… but…" Robin floundered desperately, looking down at himself. Every tiny detail of his body was accentuated by the tight clothing Terra had made him don for "camouflage" reasons.
Everything.
The leather pants suddenly seemed tighter than ever; why did he suddenly feel so underdressed when he was completely covered from the neck down?
Because in tight leather and Lycra, dressed like a cross between The Matrix and a calendar boy from the Official Annual Gay Jerk-Off Club calendar, he was a magnet to these guys.
"Terra, I really don't want to go in here," he squeaked, clawing desperately at her arm. "Can't you just get Speedy to-?"
"But I want him to see you," Terra interrupted calmly. "Look, you'll be fine, all you have to do is walk through the tables to the bar at the front and you'll be sailing. And I'll be right beside you, I promise they won't lay a hand on you." She grinned, flicking her ponytail back over her shoulder. "They're all scared to death of me in here, since that last time I threatened to start an earthquake if they didn't stop fighting."
"Yeah, but…" Robin ducked behind her, peeping out around her and surveying the scene.
It was hardly one of Gotham's finest, even if it was the "In" place to be; it was seriously sleazy. It wasn't the layout that was seedy – it actually reminded him of a 50s diner, with its tables and booths and high stools at the bar counter. No, it was the company that was sordid, the atmosphere that sent shivers down his Lycra-clad spine. Like the club the night before, it seemed to be populated entirely of men, but these men were not the shady gangsters and lounge lizards of that other club; these were so-called party-goers – sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. Some of them were obviously homosexual, others simply scary-looking. They sat around their tables, drinking, playing cards, passing out on the floor, spewing up, jerking off, sucking each other off on tabletops—
"Terra, I want to go," Robin whined, tugging at her arm. "I don't like it in here."
"Aww, poor little thing," Terra soothed, bending down slightly and hugging him. "You'll be fine once we get past the scum here at the back. It's a bit better down the front, like a real club with entertainment and everything, okay? And we won't stay long, I promise."
"But…"
Robin stared at her in exasperation; why couldn't she understand? He had been homosexually raped by Slade, and preceding that he had… And now the sight of these guys, some of them wearing leather straps, SS caps, PVC god-knows-everything-else, some merely affectionate, others indulging in seriously X-rated material…
"If I don't get out of here, I'm going to be sick," Robin threatened under his breath.
"No you are not," Terra responded sharply. "Now stop being silly and get your little rear end down to that bar."
She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him forwards so that he stumbled several paces and straightened up to find himself within the midst of what Terra had aptly labelled the "scum". Terra sailed past him, gripping his wrist as she did so and tugging him with her. He tried to pull back but she didn't pay any attention to him, dragging him forwards anyway.
About halfway down the long room he felt a sharp slap across his leather-clad butt and jumped, stopping dead in his tracks. Terra stopped too, looking back at him with a puzzled look on her face; she raised an eyebrow when she saw him standing there, frozen, the clock clutched to his chest with his free hand.
"That is it!" Robin snapped, suddenly coming back to life. "I am leaving!"
He turned… and froze again as he saw the sea of them, leering at him, grinning; one of them licked his lips…
Terra placed her hands on his shoulders, putting her mouth right beside his ear.
"Better to go forwards than back, trust me," she whispered confidentially.
Robin nodded mutely, still staring at them in horror, and allowed her to turn him back around and steer him through the rest of the crowd. She was right; towards the front they just seemed to be normal guys, drinking and laughing and then drinking some more. And in fact he had been wrong on that first count; there were women in here, in short dresses and fishnets, smoking, acting as lap-ornaments.
Prostitutes, then.
And definitely gangsters too, all clustered in one smoky corner arguing in hushed voices. Some of them he recognised from that other club last night—
"Oh no," he whispered wildly, tugging at Terra's arm.
"What?" Terra asked, looking down at him.
"That's him!" Robin hissed, pointing at a stocky man in a pinstriped suit and black fedora. "That's the guy that tried to get the clock and the necklace off me last night. The one that tried to kill me…"
Terra looked up, squinting through the cigar smoke.
"Oh, Lambini," she said, not sounding too perplexed. "Yeah, he and his gang are regulars in here, although sometimes they go to other clubs too. Apparently they tend to go to Jake's; that's probably the club you ended up in last night. Quite small, but it has a seriously notorious reputation. Bruce hates it."
"What if he recognises me?" Robin squeaked.
"Then I'll kick his ass," Terra deadpanned. "Besides, he won't even see you in this place; it's not like you stick out any more than anyone else now that you've lost that superhero garb."
Robin nodded tersely, still anxious. Terra rolled her eyes and pushed him in the direction of the bar.
The heavy rock music seemed to be getting louder and louder as they approached the bar, and Robin looked in the direction it was coming from, expecting to see a huge speaker turned up to full volume. To his surprise he saw a stage – something that he had not noticed before – and was even more taken aback to note that the music was in fact live, being performed by a seriously scary-looking Goth band consisting of four men, all wearing torn black clothes and plastered in white and black make-up. They weren't even really singing either – the lead singer seemed to just be screaming into the microphone, shaking his tangled mane of black hair all over the place as he did so. Two metal poles were situated at either side of the stage, and around these wound two girls, naked but equally freaky-looking, with shocks of backcombed black hair and white faces decorated by elaborately made-up eyes and lips with black mascara and lipstick.
The guys in the first few rows in front of the stage were all leaning forwards, their senses fixed not on the "music", but on the girls.
And Robin stared too, mesmerized by their weird, writhing movement… until Terra put her hand over his masked eyes and dragged him away towards the bar.
"Oh no you don't, young man," she said between gritted teeth, sounding she was his mom. "You're sixteen years old…"
"You brought me in here," Robin pointed out, still blinded by her hand.
"Shut your sass-hole," Terra snapped as she reached the long bar counter. She let go of him, taking her hand away from his eyes. "And if your eyes stray towards that stage, I'll gouge them out," she threatened him, flicking the tip of his nose. "Capische?"
Robin nodded nervously.
"Capische," he responded timidly.
Terra grinned and hoisted herself onto one of the high bar stools, patting the one next to her own. Robin clambered onto it and looked around. His feet dangled at least half a metre from the floor, and everybody else sitting at the counter seemed to be in the same position. There weren't actually that many people sitting up here, most seemingly preferring booths and tables. A few seats to Robin's right sat a middle-aged man, his blonde hair beginning to go white, in a rumpled black suit knocking back the row of tiny shots in front of him. Two seats away from him was a gay couple, and beyond them again a tall black man who somehow reminded Robin of a basketball player.
He looked to the left across Terra; there was only one person sitting to the left of her.
A very handsome man, though he looked to be in his late forties, with slightly dark skin; and completely bald. He wore simply a pair of black trousers and a white shirt, the collar unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. There was a heavy frosted glass of beer in front of him but he was not drinking it, merely staring into it miserably.
Robin frowned; he recognised that man, even though he seemed older than the version Robin knew. Oh, where had he seen him before?...
Then it hit him.
Lex Luthor.
Robin stared at him, gobsmacked. Lex Luthor, Superman's #1 arch-nemesis, like Batman with the Joker, or Robin himself with Slade, was now, in this future, just another man destroyed by Slade's rule of tyranny. Lex Luthor, the powerful, rich, devious owner of LexCorp. But then, if LexCorp had been destroyed the way Wayne Enterprises had, then Luthor would have been left centless, just like Bruce had been.
Why then, hadn't Lex joined Slade, the way the Joker and countless others had? Or if he had seen sense, why hadn't he joined Batman's Titans instead, and fought to save the world that was crumbling around him?
"Terra," he hissed, poking her arm. "That's Lex Luthor, isn't it?"
Terra blinked and turned her head; then she smiled.
"Hey, Lex," she greeted the man brightly, causing Robin to blanch.
Lex Luthor looked up wearily; his tired face broke into a weak smile when he saw Terra.
"Hello, Terra," he replied jadedly. "Nice to see you, as always…"
Robin looked from Terra to Lex Luthor and then back again, stunned.
"You know him?!" He spluttered, tugging at her arm to get her attention. "But he's one of the bad guys!"
Terra snorted.
"Tch, yeah. That was, like, years ago. He's a big softie, aren't you, Lex?"
Lex's mouth twitched slightly.
"Yeah," he murmured.
He got up, leaving his untouched beer on the counter.
"Don't think me rude, Terra," he went on, his voice very soft and weary. "It's just that I have some things to attend to. I only stopped by to ask Roy something; he gave me that beer on the house."
"Sure," Terra replied, shrugging. "See you soon, Lex."
Lex nodded and picked up his jacket from the floor, pulling it on and tugging it straight; even fifteen years on he was still devastatingly handsome, though he did not have that same confidence and poise he had once possessed.
"Tell Bruce I sent my regards," he said, waving his fingertips vaguely at her.
"If he remembers who you are," Terra muttered in reply; Lex heard it and smiled faintly on his way out.
"Ok, would you like to explain that to me?" Robin snapped, punching Terra on the arm. "You didn't mention anything about Lex Luthor last night!"
"Ouch." Terra rubbed her arm where he had hit her, her blue eyes narrowed. "Okay squirt, here's something you should take heed of; I didn't stand temper-tantrums from Nightwing, and I'm not going to stand them from you, so don't use your fancy little martial arts moves on me or I'll drop a boulder on you."
"Explain!" Robin demanded.
"And don't get lippy with me either," Terra spat, jabbing the tip of his nose with a long, pointed finger. She sighed heavily, removing it. "Okay, Luthor. Not much to tell really. When Slade first started taking over Lex tried to cement a partnership with Wayne Enterprises, hoping to build weapons as a means of combating him. Bruce wouldn't hear of it, so Luthor tried to do it himself. However, he quickly ran out of money and LexCorp went bankrupt. Luthor tried to build on a corporate scam, hoping to siphon money out of other companies in Metropolis, including the Daily Planet. Lois Lane figured out what he was up to and she and Clark collected the evidence to bust him. He was arrested and given fifteen years, but… six months later Slade turned up and overthrew Metropolis and pretty much repeated the pattern of ransacking everything, stealing anything worth stealing, and destroying buildings that he felt were "useless". Unfortunately, jails fell into that category, what with Jump City's jail first, then Arkham Asylum. So, Luthor got out, but with no money he couldn't start to rebuild his empire. Instead, he went to Slade, said that he could help him. Slade, being Slade, used him as much as he needed, then attempted to kill him; he shot Lex in eleven places and left him for dead. Bruce found him bleeding to death in the streets of Metropolis and brought him back to Gotham to patch him up. As it happened, Lex had overheard lots of Slade's plans and intentions and he relayed them all to Bruce as repayment – obviously he found out that Bruce was Batman – and using Lex's information we were able to stop a lot of Slade's attacks. He was very helpful, and certainly reformed, and we tried to persuade him to join the Titans, but he didn't want to. He helped us out from time to time if Bruce asked, but otherwise he settled down in Gotham and now lives the hovel existence that the rest of us do. He comes in here a lot to see Roy, and sometimes he goes to see Bruce too, although the last time Bruce gave him a black eye."
Terra sighed again, shaking her head.
"You know, refusing to join the Titans is probably the reason he's still alive. Bruce, Roy and I are lucky to still be here, and it's not without injury. I mean, you saw Bruce's mental condition, but his physical health's not too good either. Did you see the walking stick by his chair today?"
Robin nodded, puzzled.
"Well, remember I told you about the day Nightwing died, that Bruce got shot too?"
Again Robin nodded.
"The shot shattered Bruce's leg, and he was in such a bad state that day after watching Dick die he wouldn't let any of us touch it. I know it sounds sick, but I think he wanted to endure the pain to its full extent, as though he was punishing himself for not saving Dick. So it healed on its own, but it didn't heal correctly, and now he's crippled. He can barely walk without that stick."
Robin blinked.
"So… he's not exactly Batman anymore? I mean, he doesn't go out into the streets and fight crime anymore?"
"None of us do, Robin. Not anymore… After Dick died we put up the white flag. It just hurt too much…"
"That's not what Nightwing would have wanted," Robin protested. "That's not what I would have wanted!"
"Robin, I know, believe me, but it's not that simple, especially with Bruce the way he is. Even if he wasn't mad as a hatter he'd still be obsolete, with his leg the way it is."
"But you gave up!" Robin pressed. "You swore to fight for justice, and you threw in the towel. Slade is still pulling the strings here—"
"Robin, don't do this again," Terra pleaded wearily. "I know it's difficult for you to understand, having been thrown out of your own time, a much happier time where the Teen Titans and the Justice League and Batman and Superman all still live, and still stop evil the way they're supposed to… where everything is still in balance. You come from a world where the biggest struggle in your life is deciding what movie to watch or choosing pizza toppings that everyone agrees on. You haven't lived through fifteen years of Hell, the way I have, or the way Roy and Bruce and Lex have, but trust me, when you've seen what we have, you aren't quite as optimistic or enthusiastic about upholding vows that are only going to be broken anyway."
She turned away, signalling that the conversation was over, and Robin sighed heavily.
"Terra!"
Robin jumped as a pleasantly surprised voice loudly accentuated the earth-mover's name.
"Roy," Terra returned the gesture, lifting a hand in greeting. "Wondered when you were going to make your appearance."
Roy Harper sailed over to them, a grin on his long, handsome face and a glass in one hand, wiping it with a green cloth.
"Sorry, had some stock to tend to out back," he explained. "Need to refill the cigarette machines… I also had to break up a few fights."
"Nothing new, then," Terra murmured.
Roy's grin only widened.
Robin had only met Roy Harper once in his own time, under the alias "Speedy" when they had both been forced to participate in the Master of Games' "Tournament of Heroes" in a bid to find the greatest young hero on Earth.
Which I won, he thought smugly.
But, if he remembered correctly, it had all been a scam, in which the Master of Games acquired the powers of those who lost their battles. When Robin had beaten Speedy in the final round, the title of "winner" bestowed upon him had only meant that he was the only one not to have been absorbed by the Master's magical amulet.
It had been a seriously lousy prize; not only had Cyborg and Beast Boy been absorbed, but Aqualad too and Robin's newfound friend/clone Speedy. He could remember Speedy now, as in his own time, the Tournament of Heroes had only been two or three months ago. If memory served, the sixteen-year-old Speedy had looked similar to Robin himself, even donning the same mask, but his build was slightly taller and ganglier. The muscles in his shoulders and arms had also been more developed than Robin's own, because of his skill and prowess with a bow and arrow. His face was also longer and thinner than Robin's, which was rounded, almost heart-shaped; and he had brilliant red hair, not black. His outfit had been crimson, sleeveless, with bright yellow details and a badge stating "S" for Speedy instead of Robin's own "R". Cyborg and Beast Boy had joked that Speedy was Robin's clone, and indeed, they had been incredibly similar in both personality and looks, with those few notable differences.
But "Speedy" had changed; the man standing before Robin now was not that sixteen-year-old archer anymore. He still retained the looks of his younger-self – the tall frame, the red hair, the long, thin face – but they too had aged. Where the sixteen-year-old Roy Harper, or "Speedy", had seemed… well, typically teenaged, this Roy Harper was very handsome, his red hair now a darker shade of its original colour, and shaved close to his head. Now it was not only his arms and shoulders that were muscular – his entire frame had filled out powerfully, giving the impression that he worked out a lot; his face seemed more chiselled, and his mouth was firm and determined like Bruce's, except that he was actually smiling. In place of his crimson uniform he wore a close-fitting white t-shirt and faded all-American blue jeans underneath a black bartender's apron, and in the absence of his mask Robin was surprised to note that Roy Harper's eyes were brilliant blue, just like his own.
"So, what'll it be, Rocky?" Roy asked genially, giving Terra a little push on the arm. "The usual? Oh, by the way, you're looking good enough to eat, as usual."
"Knock it off, Roy," Terra sighed. "And I wish you'd stop calling me "Rocky"."
"Well, I'd call you "Stony", but people might misinterpret that and think you're some kind of junkie."
"Oh, I see. You're being considerate."
"Exactly." Roy seemed pleased.
Terra sighed and pulled the black ponyband from her ponytail, shaking her mane of gold hair free around her face. Roy leaned over the bar, his expression mockingly dreamy.
"I love it when you do that," he murmured.
"You want a broken nose, Harper?"
"Good heavens, no!" Roy cried, pretending to be aghast as he stepped back and put his hands to his nose. "You'll ruin my beautiful face!"
"If I want sass, Roy, there's plenty of other places I could be," Terra said dangerously.
"True," Roy acknowledged. "And if I want a broken nose, I could just go round to Bruce's on a bad day."
"Roy."
"Look, I know he can't help it," Roy sighed, putting the glass and green cloth down on the counter. "But he snapped my freakin' wrist, and it's seriously affected my arching. I… hold on a second…"
Roy looked across the bar and Terra and Robin followed his gaze; Chester Lambini, flanked by four lackeys on each side, was approaching the bar. Robin squeaked and slid off his stool, shooting behind Terra and hiding. He had fought the gangster(s) off okay last night, but why deliberately provoke an attack? Better to stay out of sight, especially when he still had the Clock of Eternity and the Blood Diamond on him…
"Harper," Chester Lambini said sharply when he reached the counter. "Me an' my boys are cashin' out for the night. Got change for a coupla fifties?"
"Sure thing, Mr Lambini," Roy replied amiably, holding out his hand to receive the money. Chester pressed a whole wad of $50 bills into his outstretched hand and Roy flipped through them, counting them and quickly adding them up.
"Ok, back in a sec," he said, sauntering off in the direction of the till.
Chester Lambini turned his attention on Terra, who gazed back at him boredly; Robin ducked right down behind her stool in the dark, thankful at this point for the fully-black outfit he was wearing.
"Hey there, gorgeous," Chester leered, chewing on the end of his cigar.
"Hey," Terra replied monotonely; she had dealt with Lambini before – several times, actually, and every time he had tried it on with her.
"You waitin' for a pick-up?" Chester asked, his tone and expression both somewhat hopeful.
Terra smiled sourly.
"Not tonight, Mr Lambini," she replied pleasantly. "But I'm sure there are plenty of guys in here that are."
Chester's face twisted.
"You got a mouth on ya, babe," he spat.
Terra didn't get to reply as Roy chose that moment to return, barely able to close his hand around the thick wad of crisp green dollar bills he held.
"Here you are, Mr Lambini," he said graciously, handing them over. "Enjoy your evening, and hope to see you again soon."
"Sure thing, Harper," Chester said, his small eyes still fixed on Terra. "See ya around…"
He turned and left, but not before his eyes lingered on Terra once more, looking almost longingly at her breasts, accentuated by the lacy black fabric of her tight top.
"Ugh, that guy is a total pig," Terra said in disgust after the gangster was safely out of earshot. "Can't you ban him, Roy?"
"Afraid not," Roy replied wistfully, scratching his short red hair. "God knows I don't like him too much either, but he and his pals are pretty good customers, and besides, at least he doesn't jerk off on the table top and then leave it for me to wipe down."
Terra pulled a face, then looked behind her.
"It's okay now, baby," she whispered to Robin. "You can come out now; he's gone."
Robin ventured out from behind Terra's stool, shaking his head slightly to clear it from the smoke he had inhaled while down there.
Roy stared athim, his mouth hanging open
"Jesus Christ…" he murmured. "That kid's a dead-ringer for Dick when he was a Teen Titan…"
"Roy, this is Dick," Terra sighed. "I know it seems crazy, but… it's really him. Robin."
"Terra, Dick is dead," Roy said wearily.
"Yes, our Dick," Terra agreed. "But this one… he's from another time, a time fifteen years ago in the past. Why on earth do you think he still looks sixteen, if he's been magically resurrected from death?"
"Okay, now you're expecting me to believe in time-travel?" Roy asked skeptically.
"The Clock of Eternity, Roy," Terra whispered, taking the clock from Robin's hands as he scrambled back onto his high stool. "You must know of its powers?"
"I've heard of its powers," Roy corrected. "I've never believed in them."
"Well, start believing, Speedy, 'cause they're the real deal. This Robin is fresh from the day the Titans died at Overload's electrical hand."
Roy looked at Robin, frowning at him, taking in every detail.
"Tell me she's joking, kid," he said, half-willingly.
Robin shook his head slowly.
"I'm afraid not," he replied. He pointed to the clock clutched in Terra's hands. "I used the Clock of Eternity to time-travel, intending to go back ten hours and prevent the Teen Titans from being killed. But… the thing screwed up and threw me forwards to this time. Fifteen years, according to Terra."
Terra nodded in confirmation.
Roy sighed, scratching his hair.
"So what do you want me to do?" He glanced at Robin. "I mean, not that it's not nice to see ya an' all, Dick; you know, not covered in blood and riddled with bullet-holes, but…"
He trailed off, looking lost.
"You need to fix the clock, Roy," Terra said, sounding as though she thought he was stupid not to realise it. She placed it on the counter in front of him and he picked it up, examining it.
"Looks okay to me," he stated finally, showing it to them both. "The pendulum's still swinging, and the hands are moving. You sure it's broken, Night… I mean, Robin?"
Terra looked at him too.
"Yeah, he's got a point, actually," she agreed. "It does appear to working fine. You sure you did it right?"
"If I hadn't done it right in the first place, how did I get here?" Robin pointed out, irritated. "I did it right, I swear, I just… I tried it three times and it just won't work."
"Well, Roy, that's where you come in," Terra said slowly, looking back at the former-archer. "Time to make yourself useful."
"Thanks." Roy frowned at it still. "Ok, I'll take a look at it for you, but I can't do it right now. It'll have to be after I close the bar, which is at midnight."
Terra nodded.
"Great; thanks, Roy."
Roy grinned.
"No problem. Now, what're you on tonight?"
Terra considered that for a second.
"Tropical Twist cocktail," she decided finally.
"With or without vodka?" Roy asked, pulling out different coloured spirit bottles and a tall cocktail glass.
"With. But just a little bit."
Roy nodded and expertly and quickly put the cocktail together, shaking it in a way reminiscent of James Bond; Robin watched him, fascinated.
"Here you are, m'lady," Roy said, his voice somewhat sultry as he slid the finished azure-blue cocktail across the counter at her.
"Hey, where's my palm tree?" Terra demanded half-jokingly as she looked at the cocktail.
"Oops, sorry, Your Highness," Roy said mockingly, fishing under the bar and emerging with a tiny plastic palm tree cocktail-decoration. He placed it in her drink, grinning.
"And you, good sir?" Roy went on in the same manner, turning to Robin.
"Uhh…" Robin pointed to Terra's cocktail. "I want one of those too."
He said it mostly because he wanted to see Roy make it up again in that impressive fashion, but both the archer and the earth-mover snorted.
"No you will not," Terra informed him snippily, taking a sip of her own. "You're underage to be drinking alcohol. Not twenty-one, remember?"
"What?" Robin was outraged. "You let those guys down the back… well, do allsorts all over your table tops, but you won't give me a cocktail? This place is seriously screwed up!"
"Look, if you were just regular Gotham scum off the streets I wouldn't care, as long as you had the money to pay for it," Roy explained, sounding bored. "But not you, Robin. Nightwing never approved of me giving alcohol to under twenty-ones."
"I am Nightwing," Robin reminded him through gritted teeth. "You're treating me as if you think I'm his son. I'm not. I'm a younger version of him—"
"And Bruce doesn't approve of it either," Roy went on, his voice still monotone. "I gave Tim Drake a shot glass full of beer once and he went nuts on me, and so did Alfred and Dick. So… sorry, kiddo, but no booze for you, I'm afraid."
Robin snorted; he had just been arguing for the sake of it, really – he actually didn't want the alcohol. But he still couldn't understand the logic behind Roy's bar and club rules.
"You can have something else, though," Roy said brightly. "You want Coca Cola, POM Wonderful, root beer, Perrier, lemonade or iced tea?"
"Iced tea," Robin said sulkily. "Coming right up," Roy chirped, and within seconds Robin found a pint glass full of the amber liquid in front of him, the equivalent of a small iceberg swimming in it.
"On the house, as always," Roy went on, flashing a grin at Terra.
"So… do you actually run a gay bar, Speedy?" Robin asked carefully, having to pick up his full glass with both hands just to take a sip.
"Roy," Roy corrected mildly. "Or Arsenal. I haven't been called Speedy since I was nineteen."
"Oh. Sorry."
"And no, I don't run a gay bar," Roy went on airily. "This is just a regular club – the "In" place to be, I might add."
"But it's seriously sleazy," Robin protested. "I mean, no offence or anything, Roy, 'cause you seem to be making a sweet buck off it and all, but you have all these… freaks jerking off on your table tops, and doing other stuff that I don't wanna go into, and naked girls on your stage like it's some kinda strip club, and gangsters over in the corner making heroin deals…"
Roy and Terra both grinned.
"You've been away from Gotham City too long, kid," Roy said cheerfully. "This dump has always been like this."
"Well, yeah," Robin agreed, taking another sip of his iced tea. "I know that; I mean, the gangsters and stuff. Me an' Batman were the guys who used to break into these places and kick their tails. But this just seems OTT; I can't ever remember seeing this many gay people in Gotham, at least not outside of actual gay bars."
"What can I say?" Roy murmured, shrugging. "Granted, Gotham's a little more screwed up than it used to be; I mean, half the city's population seem to be gay. I don't know why; maybe it's something to do with the water supply or something dumb…"
"So why do they all come in here?" Robin pressed.
"Because, as I already told you, this is the "In" place to be," Roy replied smugly. "Everybody comes in here; I've gotten the reputation as the best club in Gotham City. Though, in all fairness, most of the other clubs are the size of box closets. I mean, mine is huge, so there's plenty of room for everyone. And I've got a bigger licensing deal than any other club, so I can sell more beverages."
"Besides, Robin," Terra chipped in breezily, "remember I told you that all the "freaks" tend to stick around the back and outer edges of the club?"
Robin nodded slowly.
"Well, this place is kinda like a bathtub after you've had a bubblebath in it," Roy carried on, sounding amused. "The scum all sticks around the edges."
Terra snorted into her cocktail and even Robin managed a wry smile.
"Oh, Terra, by the way," Roy said suddenly, turning to the earth-mover and snapping his fingers. "I need you to help me with something; I was actually hoping you'd call in tonight. There's been a cave-in down in the basement, rocks and boulders and stuff everywhere. I can't get to some of my stock, and the beer taps are gonna be running dry soon. I don't think they'll last the night without a top-up. Think you could give me a hand?"
"You mean could I do all the work while you stand and watch?" Terra re-interpreted.
"Naturally," Roy said with a grin.
"Sure thing," Terra responded drolly. "You wanna do it now?"
Roy nodded and Terra rose from her stool, draining her cocktail in one mouthful.
"Ok, let's do this," she sighed, stretching. Then she pulled off her leather jacket, baring her black lacy top.
"Just what I said," Roy murmured. "Good enough to eat…"
"Back off, sleaze," Terra threatened, shaking her long blonde hair back.
Roy grinned and winked at Robin, who gazed impassively back at him.
"You gonna be okay here by yourself for a minute, Robin?" Terra asked, turning to Robin.
At once Robin went on the alert.
"What?" He spluttered. "You're… you're gonna leave me here by myself?"
"It'll only be for a minute," Terra promised, holding up one finger to accentuate her point. "Seriously, it'll only take me a minute to shift that rock for Roy. You'll barely notice that we're gone."
"No." Robin shook his head wildly. "No, I'm coming too."
"No!" Terra sounded annoyed now. "It's too dangerous down there for you. You stay up here where you're safe, okay?"
"But… Terra, you can't leave me here by myself," Robin said desperately. "Please, you can't-"
"Robin, we're going to leave you for a minute," Terra interrupted irritably. "Now stop being silly. These guys won't hurt you."
Robin looked around tentatively.
"But I-"
"Here." Roy interrupted him this time, thrusting a packet of dry roasted peanuts into his face. "Shut up and scarf these. We'll be back before you know it, okay?"
Robin grudgingly took the peanuts, trying to concoct another argument even as he tore the packet open. He looked up again, shaking some peanuts into his palm, and found that Terra and Roy had both vanished.
He felt slightly nervous now, without the sense of protection Terra and Roy's presence had given him. Still, he knew that the worst thing would be to advertise the fact that he felt more than a little apprehensive, so forced himself to appear calm and nonchalant, as though he came into these places every night of the week. He swung around on his stool, slowly munching a mouthful of peanuts, then picked up his glass of iced tea and took another drink; as he did so he noticed that the Clock of Eternity was gone. No big deal – Terra must have taken it to get it out of the way.
It was as he put the heavy glass down that he saw the guy approaching him; a heavy, thickset man in a PVC catsuit unzipped right down to the bottom of his large belly. He came right up to the bar, leaning over the counter as though looking for something.
Next to him, Robin put down his bag of peanuts on the bar and slid off his stool. He despised the phobia that had been cultivated within him; but Slade had created it in him, and just the notion of being anywhere near someone who had homosexual tendencies of any kind was enough to bring a cold sweat to his skin, even when he knew that the vast majority of the gay community would never do to him what Slade had done.
He was just starting to edge away when the guy suddenly reached out and grasped him by the wrist, tugging him almost off his feet.
"Hey, kid, where's Harper?" The guy asked, all business.
"Roy?" Robin squeaked. "He went out back for a second…"
"With the blonde one?" The guy snorted. "Bitch, always turning up in here where she's not wanted… Well, when he gets back, tell him the smokes machine is empty…"
The guy released him and ambled off again.
Robin heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps Terra was right, perhaps these guys really weren't interested in him…
So perhaps it couldn't do him any harm to have a little wander around.
Still, he was confused about the guy's attitude towards Terra. Did he truly resent her presence in the club simply because she was female? Or was it because she was such close friends with Roy?...
Because, even as another guy, Robin couldn't deny it – Roy Harper practically had "KNOCKOUT" tattooed across his forehead.
As he passed the stage he noticed that the act was coming to an end; the naked girls had already left the stage and the scary screaming Goth-guys were just wrapping up, shrieking "Goodnight, you fuckers!" into the microphone to an audience that had lost interest now that the two girls were absent.
As it happened, Robin almost walked into one of the girls, who was coming the other way from backstage, now fully dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a pink jacket. Her scary make-up was washed off too, and as Robin apologised and stepped aside he saw her pull off the backcombed black wig… to reveal blonde hair.
He stared at her, recognising her even though she was fifteen years older.
"Kitten?"
She looked back at him slightly, unsmiling. Instead of jumping on him, addressing him as "Robbie-Poo" and attempting to kiss him, as the fifteen-year-younger incarnation would have done, this Kitten merely looked at him and turned away again, carrying on through the throng.
Robin raised an eyebrow; definitely an improvement in the personality stakes. But then, she probably didn't even recognise him; or if she did, she no longer cared about him. Or perhaps she thought herself mad to have seen his sixteen year old self in a future fifteen years ahead, just as Terra had done. Either way, he wasn't bothered, as long as it didn't involve him being forced to escort her to her junior prom.
But things were certainly hard up here; everybody from Jump seemed to be in Gotham, and Kitten had seemingly given up pink limousines in exchange for dancing naked in sleazy clubs. Not by choice, he guessed, but it appeared that even the ones who had once been rich – Bruce, Lex Luthor, Kitten – had nothing.
While Slade had everything.
He continued to weave in and out of tables, absently looking around. Recorded music had started up now, more heavy metal that not many seemed to be particularly enjoying. It was actually very hard on the head, and Robin had to admit that he didn't like it much either.
He was somewhat distracted from the music when he was suddenly jerked sideways off his feet, finding himself in some guy's lap. Robin blinked and looked up at the man who had "kidnapped" him. He shivered, tensing up; another gay guy, only this one seemed slightly more interested in him than the other one at the bar. He also seemed more drunk, swaying a little on his chair.
"Hey," he leered, "you on your own?..."
Robin shrank back from him, but the guy's large hand was at his back, preventing him from sliding off his lap.
"No, I'm not," he replied angrily, forcefully pushing the guy's hand away as he started to stroke his spiky black hair; he didn't care how the man interpreted his statement.
"Not, you aren't alone…" the guy agreed, his voice slurred. "You can be with me now…"
Again Robin shivered.
"No, I don't think you under-"
He abruptly cut himself off as he felt the guy's hand brush between his thighs.
"Nice…" the man mumbled, a stupid grin plastered on his face.
Furious, Robin was about to deck him, but was prevented from doing so as the man suddenly pressed him to his vast chest with one powerful arm. As he struggled against the strong grip he distinctly heard a zip going – the guy was unzipping his fly…
"Now you can do something nice for me…" The man slurred, making a weird, soft giggling sound.
Wildly, Robin reached behind him to the table the guy was sitting at and his hand came into contact with an empty heavy glass beer tankard. His fingers closed around the thick glass handle, the body of the glass being pressed against his knuckles. He swung it upwards as hard as he could, using it as a very effective knuckleduster to punch the guy in the side of the face. The whole chair toppled backwards with the impact of the blow, sending Robin sprawling on top of the man. The guy was unconscious, lying on the floor of the club with three teeth knocked out, his jaw streaming blood and his trousers unzipped.
Still shaking slightly, Robin untangled himself, letting go of the heavy glass. A few people in the vicinity looked down at the scene, but nobody inquired what had happened; nobody even seemed to care.
Nobody batted an eyelash as Robin staggered on through the crowd, shivering and rubbing his knuckles where the impact of the glass against them had bruised them. That had been way too close for comfort…
"No way!"
Robin jumped as he heard a loud voice that he recognised all too well sounding shrilly behind him. Before he could turn, however, he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and roughly whipped around. Just as he had suspected, a livid, fifteen-year-older Johnny Rancid was the culprit.
"Okay, Bird-boy," the biker hissed, his face inches from Robin's own. "Would you like to explain to me how, even fifteen years on from the day the Teen Titans apparently died… you are still Bird-BOY?!"
"Long story," Robin replied, smirking deeply. "But I don't think that tiny brain of yours could grasp it."
Johnny grinned, advertising his yellowed teeth.
"Still got that smart-ass mouth on you, I see," he sneered. "Everything's changed around here, Bird-boy – everything except you." His horrible grin widened, reminding Robin of the Joker. "Guess you'll just never grow out of being a stupid little kid, huh?"
Robin grasped Johnny's wrists where he held him by the back of his jacket and snapped them back. Johnny roared in pain and released him, where he then proceeded to rub them vigorously, swearing and spitting under his breath.
"This "stupid little kid" can still kick your butt, Johnny," Robin warned, straightening up. "And you know that."
"Yeah, I do." Johnny didn't seem in the least bit reluctant to admit it. "But I get my kicks another way these days, stupid little birdie."
Robin snorted.
"Yeah, I can imagine…"
"Perhaps you'd like to take me up on it, then…"
Johnny folded his vast arms, still grinning.
Robin cocked his head, confused.
"Take you up on what?"
For the first time he realised that Johnny had friends with him – five or six other guys were clustered behind him, all as big, ugly and leather-clad as Johnny Rancid himself. Some of them were swaying, obviously severely drunk, and behind them again was their table – on it were so many empty beer tankards they were impossible to count. Johnny, however, seemed stone-cold sober.
"My little challenge," Johnny went on, smirking now. "Nearly everybody in this club has taken me on at some time or other. And… I've beaten every single one of them."
"Oh?" Robin felt his interest piquing at that.
So, nobody had ever beaten him, huh? Then perhaps it wasn't fluke that Robin had ended up in this future after all…
"Fine, Johnny," he decided. "I'll do your little challenge."
"Excellent." Johnny seemed pleased.
He turned to his friends, snapping his fingers.
"Set the glasses up," he ordered briskly. "Five shots of 5-X liquor…"
Robin blinked; had he heard that right?...
Was Johnny's challenge… a drinking competition?... He had assumed it was some kind of fighting challenge, in which he would have thrashed Johnny in less than a minute. But drinking… he had never drank in his life. There was no way he would be able to handle the amount of alcohol that Johnny would be able to…
But he couldn't back down now, especially as it was a challenge set by, after Slade, his other arch-nemesis…
Before he could even decide what to do, two of Johnny's robust friends took him by each shoulder and shoved him over to the table, forcing him into the chair opposite Johnny, who was already seated.
In front of him, in a neat row, Robin found five tiny shot glasses, each almost full to the brim with amber liquid.
Not iced tea; not even root beer, both of which were a similar colour.
Liquor.
"First one to collapse loses," Johnny explained abruptly. "That's pretty much all there is to it."
Robin nodded, feeling weak inside.
"Well, good luck, Bird-boy," Johnny sneered, raising one of his tiny glasses. "Remember, I don't blame you for being a stupid little kid…"
He knocked it back as easily as if it was water, not the incredibly powerful alcoholic drink that it was. He slammed down the little glass and rested his head in his hands, waiting.
How do I get myself into these things?...
Robin gingerly picked up his own first little glass amid the undivided attention of Johnny and his equally-freaky friends; he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, tipped his head back and downed it-
At once he got the feeling of being cracked over the head with a frying pan; he was vaguely aware that he had slid out of his chair before everything went completely black.
I do not apologise for Robin's homophobia. I have explained it before. Deal with it.
Personally I have nothing against gays. Don't believe me, go read some of my fics; Winner Take All, Pure Poison, Nor Would It Be The Last, Ultimately and Get Over Yourself to name but a few. Plus there's always the infamous co-written endeavour known as Small Print… I support slash, but this fic is anything but slash, sooooooooooooo…
Sorry about that.
Second; don't worry, Kitten doesn't show up again. It was originally gonna be Jinx, but… it turned out as Kitten. Doesn't make any difference, to be honest. Johnny Rancid doesn't show up again either. Wow, that is actually the third time I have written him. That's quite impressive on Johnny's part, since I don't actually like him very much. There are other villains that I adore, like Mad Mod and Red X, whom I have never written at all…
Drinking competition. Ehh… seemed like a good idea at the time. I wrote this chapter originally in Summer 2005. It's old. Don't nitpick too much… It has got a relevance to it – sort of…
Next chapter: another detour away from the boringness of this future blahblahblah. It's a brand new chapter I wrote just the other night, to be slotted in between this chapter and the one that technically should come directly after it. I'm not saying anything about it but I am really proud of how it came out and I think you will like it…
But that is next time. Let's talk about this time.
See that purple button…?
I knew you would.
RobinRocks xXx