Okay, wow, I should have updated AGES ago, since it is now old news that I am out of Author Idol. Heh. In fact, they're onto the judging of Round 6 now, soooo… All in all, I got through to Round 5, so it wasn't a bad run, and the best part of it was, the round from which I got eliminated was really tough, and they said it was hard to choose people to go out since they were no actual bad entries. Regardless, though, they had to put some people out, and I was one of them, along with two others.
Never mind…
There is going to be a Season Two, so we're hoping to have a much larger turn-out this time. Is anyone interested? Please join in – the more the merrier! (:D)
In other news, my exams have started (cries) and, since it is June, I have to look at Dr Light for a month… Rawr. My calendar has only featured two of the original five Titans so far – Robin and Cyborg. I also very much wonder why Slade and Aqualad didn't get spots when Dr Light, Trigon, Mas y Menos and Gizmo did… Very strange… O.o
Thankyou to: Me (yes, indeed, we're only half way there!); LoopyLouise123 (Marcus, huh? I was always surprised by how… "popular" my OCs turned out to be with the readers, since OCs actually annoy me in fics. But they were necessary, since you can't have Azarath with no people in it…); Quinn and His Quill (why thankyou, Quinn. I hope Another Touch of Death is going well too); YamiTai (yes, this story is confusing. It confuses even me at times, especially while I was writing it. If you look carefully, there are a few inconsistencies due to mistakes I made because I confused myself…); Simmie (as observant as always, Simmie!); Guardian of Azarath (Robin: "Hey, guys! I took up a new hobby – killing unborn babies!"; Other Titans: (Speed-dial Society for the Protection of Unborn Children); Robin: "Nooooooooo!"); Someone (you and "Me" are very annoying, you know… As for the RobinxRaven-ness… don't lose hope just yet! There is much more to come! And I might be out of school, but I have to do exams…); TheFallenAngel67 (actually, the latter half of this fic took more than imagination – I bought a bunch of books about Wicca spells and stuff so it would seem more realistic. Stick around to be educated on the true ways of the Wicca practice! Mwa ha!); Chanceless (oh, calm down, you… I'm sorry I made you emo for a whole weekend… But seriously, you can't have liked Seth THAT much… BTW, how much ink have you used up on printing out this? And I can't wait to see any art you do, so draw whatever you want!); Narroch (oho, how nice it is to see you skulking around these parts again… We already discussed Seth and his lameness, so… I guess all that is left form me to say is that I "loath" Spider-Man almost as much as I "loath" your spelling… heh heh heh… It's "loathe" with an "e", dude. Oh, how mean I am to you, my darling…); Athena's Wings (how, how many chapters left? It's difficult for me to answer that because RTT is originally only fifteen VERY LONG chapters. And I have to break them down as I go into about three or four chunks a chapter, so… I can't honestly say how many there will be. This will have more than Black Magic, though…); CrazyInsomniac (yes, I am a chick. If you like Robin's sarcasm, you'll like the opening of this chapter! Although I feel I make him a little OOC-sarcastic, but… whatever. Some of the humour is a bit British too, but… well, I can't help that, now can I?); Still Sketchin' (I swear you've reviewed before on like Black Magic or something… Thankyou for your kind words; and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you have enjoyed all the others!); and Haikku (cool name. I would believe you if you said you had read all three parts in (under) a day, because I know others have done it; I would not, however, believe you if you said you eyes didn't hurt afterwards… :D Hope to hear from you again!).
"Deadshot" is actually a villain in the DCU – on occasion he has teamed up with Deathstroke the Terminator (Slade, of course!). However, that's not why this chapter is called "Dead Shot". This chapter is called Dead Shot simply because I make up titles for these "chunks" of original chapter on the fly and I am running out of ideas…
Dead Shot
Robin sank to his knees next to Raven, brushing his fingers across her forehead, tracing lightly over the small protrusion of her jewel. Locked in her self-healing state, Raven could not have awoken even if she had wanted to; she offered no sign of acknowledgement of his presence.
Irritated by the Blood Diamond glinting patronisingly at her slender throat, he pulled it from her neck. He crammed it roughly into the breast pocket of his leather jacket; another trophy for the Evidence Room.
Another report for him to write.
Oh, how to word this one…
Teen Titans Casefile: No. (insert)
Written by: Robin (because, as usual, no-one else can be bothered…)
Villain/s: That damned Seth Elliott
Minor/s: Slade (but I'm not sure he counts because he got his ass kicked too…)
Case details: Yet another reason to ask myself why I put myself through this crap day after day, week in, week out. Turns out that neither I nor Slade are "all that"; "Avenger"? Please. Ego boost it may have been, but I may as well just go and curl up and mewl in the corner after all that I've been through for a title that Seth made up. On a brighter note, turns out Bruce won't have to kill me after all; the "baby" isn't actually mine. Of course, it being Seth's makes the situation a whole lot worse, but knowing I won't have to stare at my shoes as I struggle to tell Bruce what a naughty boy I've been, and by the way, does he think that yellow is a good paint colour for the baby's room, somewhat lifts my soul. A little. Well, not much. Really. And now that I'm done making a total fool of myself at pretty much everyone's command, I think I'll go bang my head against the gym wall for a couple of hours.
It's been real.
Robin, resident Boy Wonder (now one hundred percent liable for my own actions and decisions!).
The painfully-apparent sarcasm as he ran it over in his head made him smile as he knelt there beside Raven, his mind drifting. Maybe he should start keeping a scrapbook like Star's; or maybe a diary.
January 1st;
Dear diary,
My life sucks.
Robin.
Maybe not.
He got to his feet and stretched, arching his lithe, acrobatic body majestically; he winced as the tight seaming of his pants dug into his crotch and quickly settled back to his regular height.
No danger of getting anyone pregnant wearing these things…
He was prevented from dwelling on his concerns for his most precious bit of anatomy as he heard quick footsteps echoing down the hallway above; he tensed, thinking it could be Slade, restored to his regular aggressive, arrogant, hateful self. This assumption was remedied as Terra suddenly appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily, clutching at the broken doorframe.
"Oh, thank heavens…" she gasped, turning away back to the corridor. "Roy, I've found him!"
She came down the steps, taking them three at a time, and hurried over to him, her wave of blonde hair flying behind her. Reaching him, she enveloped him in a tight hug, bending a little to prevent him getting a faceful of her ample breasts.
Not that he would have complained.
"Oh, poor baby!" She crooned, rocking him slightly. "You're okay, aren't you?"
Robin nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine. The Senate healed me up."
"Terra?"
Arsenal appeared in the doorway too, loosely clutching his bow and taking the stairway in a similar fashion to Terra.
"Robin, you're alright?"
Robin nodded again.
"Fine. Really."
"And Raven?" Arsenal sounded concerned as he thumbed at the pregnant girl lying out for the count on the floor.
"Healing herself," Robin explained wearily. "She's fine, Roy. Dunno how long she'll be like that, though."
Terra released him and looked around.
"Where are all those weirdos from Raven Land?"
"They went back to Raven Land," Robin replied jadedly.
"Raven Land?" Arsenal repeated, confused.
"Azarath," Robin and Terra elaborated simultaneously.
"Right." Arsenal raised his red eyebrows. "And the bad guy that tried to kill us all is…?"
"Dead." Robin smiled slightly. "Dead as you like."
"You?"
Robin shook his head.
"Raven."
Terra blinked but refrained from answering; the look on her beautiful face said clearly, however, "Why am I not surprised?".
Ignoring it, Robin looked from one to the other.
"Where's Slade?"
"Ah." Arsenal and Terra exchanged nervous glances. "That's the reason we were so desperate to find you," Arsenal said carefully.
"He got away from us," Terra cut in, more to the point. "We were afraid he had gotten to you first."
"Why?"
"Because he's…" Terra sighed heavily. "Being separated then reunited with his soul has really screwed him up. He's gone… well, mental. He's out looking for you, Robin…"
"…And when he gets hold of you, he's going to kill you," Arsenal finished wearily.
Robin rolled his eyes behind his mask.
"Nothing new there then," he muttered.
"Well, the sooner we get out of here, the better," Terra said firmly. "I'll bring the whole thing down. He's not getting away, Robin. Not this time."
Robin blinked.
"You're going to kill him?"
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," Terra challenged him.
"I…" Robin trailed off; he had no answer to give. He had, after all, walked in here tonight with that very thought in mind…
It seemed like years ago now.
"C'mon, let's blow this popsicle stand," Arsenal said sharply, lifting Raven from the ground and holding her limply to his chest.
Robin and Terra nodded in agreement, Terra catching Arsenal's bow as he slung it at her to enable him to get a better grip on Raven.
Robin fished into his pocket, retrieving the gear.
"Roy, this might help get me home," he said, holding it up.
Arsenal blinked behind his mask.
"Is that…?"
"The gear?" Robin smiled. "Yeah. Guess Marcus has seen Oliver Twist too many times…"
Arsenal smiled and shook his head.
"Never did like that movie…" Clutching Raven with one powerful arm – and she looked too heavy even for that – Arsenal took the gear and pocketed it. "You'll be home saving the world by tea-time, kid," he said with a grin. "That's a promise."
"Great." Robin rubbed his aching neck. "And when I'm done saving the world, I'm gonna order pizza. Deep pan, with everything. Except mint frosting and jelly beans." He pulled a face. "I'm never letting Star order the pizza again…"
Terra giggled as they made their way up the steps.
"Hey, I remember that," she said over her shoulder. "I was a Titan with you guys when she did that. And we all thought it was really gross, so Cyborg dared BB to eat as much of it as possible, and then BB was amazingly, copiously sick everywhere…"
"I know," Robin replied dryly. "If you remember, I was the one mopping it up."
"Ah, the quirks of being team-leader, Rob," Terra sighed, shaking her blonde-maned head.
"Wasn't there, couldn't comment," Arsenal said cheerfully. "But I remember that time Dick, Garth, Cyborg and I had a nacho-eating contest. Remember that, Robin?"
"It was only like, a month ago in my time," Robin replied, a slight moan apparent in his voice. "Oh, my stomach still aches when I think about it…"
"Cyborg won," Arsenal murmured, shaking his head. He grinned, looking over his shoulder at Robin. "And you lost, Boy Wonder. You threw in the towel when I wasn't even halfway through."
"I beat Aqualad," Robin reminded him haughtily.
"Aqualad didn't like nachos, so he didn't count."
"It wasn't a fair contest," Robin argued. "I had already had lunch; you hadn't."
"Cyborg had already had lunch too, and he beat both of us."
"Cyborg has a stomach like a trash compactor."
"True, true…"
They stepped out into the main corridor, Robin and Arsenal still arguing about the fairness of the infamous nacho-eating contest; whether or not Robin's excuse that he had already eaten a whole half a pizza – deep pan, with everything – really accounted for his dismal loss.
Actually, Robin himself had to admit that seventeen nachos was pretty pitiful. Especially when Speedy had devoured well over seventy, with Cyborg clocking over one hundred of them.
And in all fairness, Aqualad's nibble of the corner of one – following by an expression of disgust and consequential throwing it into the trash – truthfully didn't really count.
Robin was anticipating returning to his own brighter, happier time more than ever. As soon as everything was cleared up, the first thing on his To-Do list was going to be challenging Speedy – the fifteen-year-younger version of the man he was arguing with now – to a pizza-eating contest. And he would win.
Of course.
Because winning wasn't everything; it was just the only thing that mattered.
"What are you smirking about?" Arsenal asked sharply, quirking an eyebrow at the Boy Wonder.
Robin shook his head vaguely, still smiling.
"Nothing, nothing…"
Terra put her arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze.
"You smirk all you want, baby," she told him. "After all, you just saved the world, right?"
"Actually, Raven-" Robin started wearily.
"Ssh." Arsenal abruptly put out an arm and froze, stopping and silencing Robin and Terra too.
"Roy, what-?"
"SSH!" Arsenal sounded irritated now, adjusting his grip on Raven. "I heard something."
"You think it was Slade?" Terra's fists clenched even as she spoke.
"Dunno. Might have been him; but it's not like there's nothing else living in here, right?"
"Mm. Bats, rats, mice, a whole delightful menagerie of creep crawlies…"
Terra trailed off as a loud bang sounded, echoing down the empty corridor.
"That was no bat, Roy," she whispered.
"I know. Come on." Arsenal turned back to Robin. "Stay here a sec, kid. We'll go check it out."
He dumped Raven into Robin's arms, and the Boy Wonder immediately buckled under her weight. Arsenal reclaimed his bow from Terra and the two of them took off down the corridor and through the door at the end.
Robin slid to his knees and laid Raven on the floor. He simply couldn't hold her; she was far too heavy. He felt guilty for it, and vowed never to tell her that it had gone through his head—
He felt the shadow fall across him but didn't react in time. The next thing he knew, Slade had him by the throat, holding him above his head.
There was an utterly crazed look in his grey eye.
"A good distraction, huh?" He laughed, and even the sound was… mad… "Now you're all mine, Robin…"
Robin swung his legs up and smashed his feet into Slade's chest, breaking his balance and throwing them both to the hard, cold floor. They landed in a tangled heap but Slade had let go of Robin's neck in the process and Robin wasted no time in exploiting his sudden freedom. Writhing free, he scrambled to his feet and whipped around, his body already tense and coiled into an attack stance.
Getting to his feet, Slade laughed again.
From beyond the corridor came the furious sounds of another raging fray, and Robin's heart sank as he realised that they had walked into a trap. Right now, Roy and Terra were contending with yet more of Slade's commandos.
While Slade…
Robin sighed jadedly.
"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
"Naturally." Slade didn't sound too perplexed by it.
Robin scowled.
"Yeah?" He spat. "How about I kill you first?"
He darted forwards, twisting his entire body into the smooth, flowing form of a flying roundhouse. Slade parried it and threw the boy backwards to the floor again, where he scraped to a halt next to Raven.
"I'm not playing these silly little games with you anymore, Robin," Slade said lazily. "Not that they weren't fun…"
He reached to the back of his belt and slid a shining black revolver from one of the pouches. Cocking it, he calmly lowered it, aiming at Robin.
"But fifteen-odd years of playing the same game…" He sighed exaggeratedly. "It gets boring. I'm sure you understand…"
He squeezed off a shot and Robin flinched as the bullet whizzed past his ear.
Slade tutted and aimed again.
"Forgive me. I haven't done this in a while. My aim's a little off…"
Robin didn't wait for him to pull the trigger this time; instead he heard the gun fire off behind him as he rolled and darted to his feet.
For the second time in less than an hour, Slade was hell-bent on killing him. And unless he really ran for his life, his arch-nemesis would most certainly succeed.
He wasn't sure if it was safe to leave Raven – pregnant, unconscious – by herself in the middle of the corridor, but he had no time to debate it as a hail of bullets exploded above his head. He blindly dived and rolled, scraping to a halt in a low phoenix stance. He rose as Slade paused for a second and examined the gun – as though it was the gun's fault for missing – and used the distraction to shoot away and kick open another door on the left of the corridor. Slade's head jerked up and he screamed an expletive – several expletives – at him, taking off after him; leaping over Raven as she lay dead to the world in her self-healing state.
Robin took the steps four at a time, running blindly deeper and deeper into darkness, down and down and down, flight after flight of shaking metal steps…
He smacked into a metal bar serving as a balcony of sorts, catching himself in the stomach and winding himself. Panicking, he heard the pounding as Slade tore down the steps after him, and he wildly looked around through the darkness. There was a little light further along and he was able to distinguish that he was indeed on a long steel balcony; below was another vast storage area, filled with stacks of dusty old crates. Above was a twisting maze of pipes, some of the less-dusty ones shining in the narrow light.
His best bet.
Hearing Slade coming ever closer, he broke into a run again, building up power to put behind his jump—
He sprang onto the metal safety bar and leapt upwards, catching a pipe in his hands. Using the same leverage from his initial jump he swung upwards again, flipping over in true Flying Grayson-style and catching another, going higher and higher…
"You think you can escape me, Robin?!" Slade screamed into the darkness somewhere behind him. He laughed and fired off another bullet upwards—
Robin gasped and froze as the bullet clanged against a pipe not even three feet away from him and ricocheted off, hitting several more on its violent descent.
And then he heard a far more terrifying sound – a heavy, clanging thud that signified that Slade too was now scrambling within the mass network of pipes. Robin fled across them, twisting under them and flipping over them as easily as if he was strolling down the sidewalk.
Only this had a far more urgent purpose.
But Slade could hear him now, and simply followed the panicky clangs of Robin's heavy boots connecting with the metal pipes as he went fleeing across them.
In the enclosing darkness, Robin could barely see where he was going; he was merely relying on his acrobatic instinct to save him from falling to his death. Truthfully, it would have been a whole lot easier had he not been panicking as he heard Slade heavily and purposefully coming after him. He vaulted over one pipe and leapt headfirst at another, putting his hands out and flipping over it, only to ascend higher and catch another.
Yes, he would have enjoyed himself had he not been fleeing for his life.
Slade laughed wildly as he pursued the boy, enjoying the game immensely. Robin heard him and shivered at the sound of it, his desperation to put as much distance between him and the villain as possible suddenly becoming even more prominent. He was aware of how much Slade would enjoy killing him; it wasn't really a very pleasant revelation. He kept that in mind as he wriggled through a particularly tight space between two pipes, wincing as the buckle of his belt scraped loudly on the metal of the pipe.
Hearing it, Slade squeezed off another shot at the source of the noise; Robin wriggled clear just in time but the gunshot startled him and he mistimed his jump. His hands slipped on the pipe as he fell and he lost his grip on it completely, plummeting downwards from the maze of pipes high above the storage facility. Slade fired yet another shot at the sound of his startled yell, but it was miles off as Robin fell.
Knowing he was going to be splattered if he didn't think fast, Robin whipped his grappling hook from one of the pouches at the back of his belt and clicked it, sending the bird-shaped hook on its strong cable soaring upwards. It slung several times around a pipe and caught, wrenching him to a painful halt. Knowing that Slade had probably heard that as well, Robin swung back and forth suspended from his jumpline, gathering momentum. Another bullet went soaring past him, inches from his shoulder, but he kept quiet; he knew that Slade couldn't see him. He was merely following the sounds.
Letting go of the holster of his grappling hook, Robin leapt into a flying descent, spreading his weight to land with minimal injury. He smacked to the concrete floor on his feet, dropping his weight into a crouch and then immediately rolling to take the force of the impact, scraping to a halt in a low phoenix stance. He allowed himself to grimace then at the pain burning in his ankles and the balls of his feet.
"Robin!"
High above him – still perched within the network of pipes, and still with the gun in his hand – he heard Slade cooing his name, his voice slow and lulling, as though he thought he could coax the boy into coming willingly to his death.
Robin almost laughed.
He stood slowly, looking upwards at what he could see of the pipes. It was pitch dark but looking ahead he could see the outlines of stacks of crates and breathed a sigh of relief to know that he had some form of camouflage. He ducked behind a tower of them and began to weave his way through the maze of them. He could barely see anything and he stumbled a few times and he wasn't even sure which direction he was going in anymore.
He heard nothing more from Slade.
As he half-ran, half-staggered through the labyrinth of crates – he was sure he had twisted his ankle from that landing – he went to the back of his belt instinctively for his staff. Finding only a cold knife – the la-di-da ashma chakra demon-stabbing Buffy-the-goddamn-Vampire-Slayer knife – he clicked his tongue in annoyance, remembering that Seth had turned his precious bo staff into a silk scarf. He had many birdarangs, but they weren't useful in all situations. A bo staff could be used for many things; fighting, poking Beast Boy, beating Cyborg off the last slice of pizza and prying up the cushions of the couch to find the remote were all uses he had put it to in the past. Birdarangs just didn't have that many practical uses…
He'd caught Beast Boy using one (which he had stolen from Robin's room while said Boy Wonder was in the shower) as a toothpick once, but that was just…
…Eww…
He'd thrown that one in the trash… after he'd finished yelling at the shape-shifter. Beast Boy had yawned all the way through the lecture and then sloped off to get something else to eat, leaving Robin standing like an idiot in the middle of the front room, still ranting after him and holding the birdarang as far away from his body as possible by the tip of its wing.
He felt a lump come to his throat as he reminisced about those happier times (although, truthfully, he hadn't been all that happy when he had walked into the front room, his black hair still wet from his shower, to find Beast Boy sprawled on the couch using one of his prized weapons as a flossing device…).
And then, remembering that if he didn't focus he would be joining them in whatever world they had passed onto since their deaths, he pushed the thoughts and the tears away. He needed a weapon; he couldn't rely on just birdarangs, that much he knew. And he wasn't very well versed on how to use a knife; all he knew was that there was a lot of skill involved – skill which he didn't have.
Cursing Seth yet again, Robin groped his way through the maze of crates—
-Stopping short with a gasp of horror as, in the darkness, he saw Slade's murky shape drop in front of him from nowhere.
He froze, his legs locking up with terror, as the smooth tall form of his enemy straightened up. Even in the narrow light Robin could see his single gray eye glittering dangerously.
"Boo," the man deadpanned, the single one-syllable word rolling off his tongue as he once again raised the gun.
Only the word wasn't as innocent as it was when uttered by kids in sheets and makeshift vampire costumes on Halloween.
Robin threw himself to the ground as another bullet went soaring over his head.
And now, in the confined space, he was trapped. He cowered, waiting for the next bullet to blast his skull apart as he heard Slade click the gun and lower it—
There was an almighty explosion behind him as one of the crates – the one Slade's stray bullet had imbedded itself in – detonated. Robin guessed there must have been something flammable or explosive in the crate; but was given no time to contemplate it as the force and heat of the blast bodily picked him up and threw him full-force into Slade, sending them both sprawling. The initial explosion was followed up by another, and another, and another… They all had explosives in them, and each blast added to the chain reaction that was quickly chasing down the entire row of crates.
Disentangling himself, Robin sprang to his feet and ran ahead of the blasts, shielding his eyes against the orange glare from the fires now spreading like… wildfires… He could feel the wall of heat accumulating behind him, rising and racing after him.
He did not care where Slade was.
That was until his enemy bodily slammed into him from behind, bringing him crashing to the concrete floor. Robin felt the older man's weight on top of him and immediately began to panic, writhing and grunting underneath him.
"No, I don't think so, Robin…" Slade purred, twisting his arm up behind his back.
Robin let out a startled yell of agony—
-Which was then cut short as another explosion went off right behind them. Heat and debris blasted overhead, and even Slade instinctively ducked low against the ground, unintentionally protecting Robin from the worst of the blast.
"Are you… trying to kill us both?!" Robin spat as Slade raised his head.
"No," Slade drawled in reply. "Just you."
Another explosion put a stop to any action Slade might attempt to justify that statement, throwing him right off Robin and sending him scraping along the concrete floor.
Robin scrabbled to his feet again and broke into another run, leaping clear over Slade as he came to a halt further along the floor.
Running for his life now –and not just from Slade – Robin tore down those dark crate-enclosed corridors, leaping, vaulting, springing and flipping just to stay ahead of the explosions…
Damn Slade and his damn gun and his damn fifteen years of trying to fulfill a made-up prophecy and his damn blaming it on me…
He burst into a clear area of ground; there was a little light coming from above. A single dull striplight lit the rest of the room and Robin could see faded yellow lines painted onto the concrete floor; safety lines for machinery. Well, down here was the stock area. It made sense.
He looked around wildly for something to use as a weapon. Some kind of pole or staff…
A smack across the back of the skull from one such weapon – almost knocking him senseless and certainly sending him staggering forwards a few paces – cut his quest short. Stumbling, rubbing the back of his head and feeling blood come away on his leather glove, he turned to focus his dazed gawk on Slade. The powerfully-built man stood a few feet from him now, his own steel bojutsu clutched loosely in one gloved hand.
The gun was shoved loosely into his belt.
Taking his hand from the back of his jet-maned head, Robin wanted to scream. Really just fling himself down on the floor and have a tantrum. He wanted to scream until his throat bled…
Because he would be damned if he had lived through all of that – Seth Elliott and his fucking seven hundred-year-old prophecy, being torn to shreds by demons beneath a portal of blood, killed atom by atom from the inside out… Damn him to hell if he had lived through that and was now going to be shot in the head by this… this…
"Fuck you!" He snapped, clenching his leather-gloved fists.
Slade's single grey eye widened behind his black and copper mask.
"Language, Robin, language…" He laughed softly. "Really, I'm quite surprised at you. I always thought you were such a good little boy…"
Robin raised his chin defiantly.
"You thought wrong." He smirked. "Odd turn you're taking, Slade. Wrong about me. Wrong about that prophecy. There was never any need for you to rape me in Arkham, but you did anyway. You believed him because of what he promised you. Your greed corrupted you beyond what I would even have thought capable for any man. But you were wrong, Slade. So wrong about everything…"
"If I wanted to hear a dramatic monologue, boy, I'd rather sit through three dismal hours of Hamlet to do it," Slade responded dryly. "Unfortunately, I don't have that long, so even toying with you – something which I would very much like to do before I kill you – is out of the question. Shame, really… But I'm afraid you must die, Robin. Not only did you break that goddamn orb, but… if I allow you to live, you will simply return to your "own" time to right what is wrong, resulting in history being rewritten completely. This existence would change – for better or worse – and the result would most probably be that I am no longer in control. And you forget, Robin; you may have dashed all my hopes of becoming all-powerful, but I still rule this time-zone. I did it without any kind of power, and I don't intend to give it up just because you've shown up with your attitude problem from a time fifteen years ago. This world is mine, and no-one is taking it from me, boy..."
His entire powerful body coiled into a deadly attack stance.
"…Not even you."
Robin smiled.
"We'll have to see about that…"
Slade snorted.
"If nothing else, Robin, I look forward to wiping that arrogant smile off your face…"
With no other warning but those words, Slade darted forwards, twisting his bojutsu over in his grip and sending an arcing swing at Robin's head. Robin dived low, twisting his body into a low sweep. Slade sidestepped it and Robin used the momentum of his body-swing to backflip to his feet. He stepped back, rocking his weight, his hands flat as was the teaching of karate. To strike or to block, to parry or deflect…
Unfortunately, not even the teachings running through his head as he adopted his battle stance could save him from Slade's next wrathful move; it was so hard and fast he didn't even follow it, instead being mesmerized by the pretty coloured stars that followed the blow. He wasn't even aware that Slade had hit him in the face but he suddenly tasted the familiar copper tang in his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood to the concrete floor. He rolled, dragging himself to his knees, and then dived into another roll as Slade's battle cry gave away his next move. Robin tumbled and scraped to a halt in a crouch, raising his narrowed gaze to see Slade's fist had connected with the floor exactly where his head had been not even a few seconds before. He straightened and stepped back again, clenching his fists now. He wished he still had those tonfas, but even that seemed like so long ago now… Wiping off his bleeding mouth on his wrist he dived forwards into a reckless roll, springing upwards from it into an uppercut, snapping Slade's head back. Backflipping before the man could recover, Robin landed and whipped two birdarangs from his belt – still at an angle on his slim hips – crossing his arms over to fling them to build up extra momentum. They cut a figure of eight through the air, meeting their mark at exactly the same time; their sharp edges slashed an "X" into the front of Slade's uniform, baring the shining thin steel breast-plate beneath the black leather. The birdarangs clattered to the floor, bouncing off the metal at his chest.
Pausing to get his breath back, Robin pushed his fringe out of his eyes, watching Slade all the while as he looked down at the perfect tear in his precious uniform.
"An "X"?" Slade sounded highly amused as he looked up at Robin. "Interesting, especially for one such as you, Robin. Was it intentional, Red X?"
Robin quivered furiously, frozen to the spot.
"That is behind me now," he spat. "You know that. You've known that for fifteen years. You killed my older self because of it. Because he – I – was a threat. Because you were afraid."
Slade tilted his head a little.
"Perhaps." He straightened again. "And perhaps not."
He brought his steel-armoured foot down on the birdarangs where they lay inches from his feet, smashing their brittle frames to sparking pieces.
And seeing the horrified expression on Robin's pale face – there went another two weapons – he smiled behind his two-tone mask.
"Next time," he whispered, "it will be your head…"
Ah, Slade, how we love your cruel little ways…
How will this fisticuff be resolved? Find out next time… when I actually get around to updating…
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-RobinRocks xXx