Aftermath.
Chapter 3
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein belong to DC comics. This is a subsidiary of AOL-TimeWarner. Neither of these august bodies is me. I am writing purely for my own entertainment, and posting in the hope of entertaining others. No commercial gain is being made from this fanfic, but C+C would be highly welcomed.
Tim – Robin – leapt and bounded over the rooftops with a joyous, gleeful abandon. It was night, a rainy afternoon had washed the superficial grime off of the city and, while this made certain hand and foot holds treacherously slippery, Robin felt it was a fair payoff: Gotham, under her grit and pollution, gleamed like an uncut gem. The sea breeze from the docks wafted over him, bringing with it salty tang, and the spice of more rain to come.
Gotham was home.
Friends, team-mates . . . family. All were centered around Gotham, even if they weren't out together: Nightwing had wandered back down to Bludhaven to break up a drug ring (Blockbuster had been diversifying his enterprises again), and Batgirl was currently trashing the Iceberg lounge (he'd been listening in over the headset speakers, and it seemed likely the long-suffering Penguin would start squawking soon enough; the money paid to him to keep quiet about the now-defunct methamphetamine refinery supplying the Bludhaven ring would very shortly cease to cover the cost of damages to his beloved nightclub. Even for Blockbuster). The thought made Robin grin toothily. While she was supremely capable of inflicting damage with surgical precision, Batgirl was equally adept at generating substantial collateral property destruction should she so choose. And it certainly sounded like she was letting loose.
His headset crackled to life, bringing with it Barbara's voice, concern laced through her words: Batman was breaking up a kidnapping ring. Without a pause, Robin jackknifed his body mid-air and changed direction. While always controlled, Batman had taken to shutting down kidnapping and white slavery with an ever so slightly vicious edge. //I guess he has reason to.// Robin thought. //But I'm that reason, so I'm the one who has to make sure it never pushes him too far.//
In the end, it was fortunate Robin came for other reasons. Nearly a hundred of them, in fact. He flowed through them with ease. They were thugs, not soldiers, and certainly not warriors. Dependent on their numbers and their attitude for their effectiveness, they were nonetheless too dumb to know when they were outclassed. But having both himself and Batman there was valuable; the children that had been snatched from the streets, from clubs, in a couple of cases while walking home from school, were filthy and unfed, dehydrated and scared. Certainly not in much shape to protect themselves, though one of them, with supreme courage, smashed a wooden plank over the head of one of her tormentors when he threatened the boy beside her during the fight. So Batman ranged wide, picking off the gangbangers at the margins while Robin, less frightening to the people they'd come to rescue than the Bat could ever hope to be, placed himself in the thick of it, between the victims and their abductors. It stopped them from using the kids as hostages in the fight. It also meant that Robin bore the more desperate of the attacks, which suited him. //Batman's perspective in kidnapping cases is a little skewed// punch-jab-kick //So's mine, I guess, but less so.//
He avoided seriously injuring them with deceptive ease, taking them down with a single blow there, a two-hit combination here. It was over quickly.
But it was observed.
Picking the lock on the shackles that bound the kids ankle-to-ankle, Robin sensed it. Glancing up quickly, he was just in time to see a flicker of cape disappearing through the skylight he and Batman had entered. A nod from his partner – who had also seen the movement – and Robin leapt off in pursuit, swarming up the walls and support pillars, finding hand and footholds where there seemed none. On his headset, he could hear Oracle summoning police for the kidnappers, ambulances for the children. . . They were not seriously hurt, but he admired her foresight.
There was no one on the roof. A rapid, but very thorough search of the surrounds yielded nobody, and no hiding places, unless. . . there. In the alley beside the warehouse, a patch of dryness despite the light drizzle that had fallen while he and Batman were inside. //So he left in a car. Whever 'he' or 'she' or 'they' were.// The warehouse was just off a major road. //So they'll just blend into the traffic.// There was no way of tracking them now, and Robin bit his lip in concern.
//Whoever this was, they're either very lucky, or they have a very good assessment of both Batman's and my agility to successfully plan that getaway.// Neither thought was particularly comforting.
The wail of approaching sirens interrupted his thoughts, and he free-climbed back up to the rooftop, leaping from handhold to foothold with graceful aplomb. Casting around the roof in the moments he had left, he memorized the scene. //Something here may help me later to determine who that person was.// A few strands of fabric – barely more than threads – caught his eye. Reaching across to grab them from the jutting tangle of junked scapmetal they'd obviously snagged on, he realised they were dry. //Sloppy, whoever you are, either that, or a deliberate feint.// Carefully, he tucked them into an evidence bag and then into his belt. Below him, he saw the shadows roil and move. //That would be Batman making his departure//.
As the first police car pulled up, Robin elected to do the same.