I'm so sorry for the delayed update! I got back from camp on Saturday and have been busy catching up on sleep and family time. XD But now I'm going to stop being a lazy bum and finish up this story, despite how badly written that first chapter was. XD
Originally I was planning this on being a two-shot, but now I'm thinking it's going to be a little longer. Anyway, sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you guys so much for the reviews, faves, and story watches. This is the most feedback I've ever gotten on anything I've written. Much appreciated. :)
Note: I own no shares in Young Justice or it's characters, this is for entertainment purposes only.
"How did you esca-" Robin began to ask when a bout of hacking coughs made his body convulse. Crimson blood splattered from his lips onto the ground beside him.
The Joker's snivel of pure malicious pleasure betrayed his act of mock hurt. "Awww, Bird Boy, I'm offended," the clown furrowed his eyebrows dramatically. "Would you really think that I'd blow a building with me inside without thinking it through?"
Robin gave no answer but his coughs.
The Joker pulled his gnarled red lips into a frown and brought his knife down into the boy's stomach, making Robin's violent hacking morph into screams of agony.
"I don't appreciate being ignored, little bird." the man growled menacingly through the cacophony of Robin's wails. The Boy Wonder managed to bat-glare through his domino mask, pure hatred meeting the Joker's amused glance.
"What... do you... want... Joker?" Robin snarled through gasps of anguish. The Joker sighed.
"I thought we'd already covered this. You see, I wanted to have a bit of fun. That bank robbery the other week was a bit lacking in terms of entertainment value." The Joker slowly removed his knife from Robin's abdomen, making the boy scream in pain once again.
"So I thought, 'Why don't I call up my good friend, Sportsmaster, and see if he improved any of that crazy serum he was helping to develop?'"
Shink.
The white-faced clown stabbed Batman's partner-in-crime in his left shoulder, receiving whimpers of pain from the young teen.
"And you know what? He had! One strain in particular..." He paused briefly to twist the dagger deeper into the boy's flesh. " -could enhance a person's regenerative abilities ten-fold, making him virtually indestructible, and able to survive almost any disaster. Thankfully it came without all that atrocious-looking extra sinew." The Joker chortled maniacally. "Sportsmaster was handing out vials of free samples to those willing, and I just so happened to get one." Robin's eyes widened in spite of himself. Crazy as Joker was, he had never thought that the demented clown would resort to using one of Sportsmaster's trafficked drugs on himself to gain an advantage. The Boy Wonder's eyes then clenched shut as Joker dislodged his blade from Robin's mutilated flesh and struggled to suppress shrieks of pain. It didn't help that the lunatic then began kicking the poor boy with his dirtied loafers. At this point, Robin would welcome the cold envelopment of unconsciousness.
"However," the Joker continued. "Sportsmaster needed a test run to see how the serum held up to explosions and large-scale debris one last time before selling it to the big boys. So we decided to test it here, at this dump of an office building. It even had a built-in underground bunker already there waiting for a wonderful person like myself to exploit, and no one would miss the building too badly. But then I thought, 'Why not let Batsy's little gang of children join in the fun?' and fed some fake intel to your friends at the Justice League." The white-faced clown brandished his arms to the sky. "And here you are!" Laughing, the Joker stopped jabbing Robin's side for a moment and dusted off his blood-soaked gloves. "By now, your friends should be in Sportsmaster and Mammoth's great care back at our hideaway."
Robin paused his grunts of misery, stiffened, and narrowed his eyes. He wanted to kill him.
That crazy clown.
That stupid, demented clown.
If anything had happened to his teammates, he would have no mercy on the Joker. Batman would have to learn to forgive him.
"What are they doing to my friends?" Robin snapped. The Joker let out a burst of deranged laughter that made the Boy Wonder's blood boil.
"Calm down, Boy Blunder," the clown giggled as he reached for a mangled piece of wrought iron on the ground. "The fun has not begun, yet."
Despite his horrendous injuries, Robin screamed and lunged for the Joker in a blind white adrenaline-filled rage, aiming for his throat. His fingers had just closed around the clown's skinny neck when-
Crack!
A muffled thump could be heard as Robin fell to the ground in a heap. His vision swirled and swirled until his entire world became enveloped in darkness and the dull ache of pain from his temple became silent, while the haunting sound of laughter echoed throughout the Boy Wonder's throbbing mind.
Nighty night, Bird Boy.
Bruce Wayne sighed heavily as he stepped into his black Lamborghini and revved up the engine. It had been a long night at the office; sometimes it felt as if all his time was spent in mundane meetings. Couldn't his business partners at least try to talk in something other than monotone? And why did they insist on meeting at such god-forsaken hours? Bruce shook his head, as if to clear it of his tiresome memories. At least now he could focus on the report from Dick's covert mission he had assigned the teenager's black ops team last night. It was funny how the millionaire felt more comfortable as the Batman than he ever did as Bruce Wayne. He felt in control, strong, powerful. Not dismissed as a ditsy playboy with no day job like he was in his civilian identity. Suddenly, a raucous shrieking noise jerked Bruce out of his reverie. He picked up his cell phone and examined the caller ID.
Superman?
Bruce flipped the phone open and answered the phone call with his trademark growl. "What is it, Clark?"
"Have you looked at any televisions recently?" the Man of Steel replied abruptly. Bruce furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Why would he need to look at a television?
"No, but I can turn the media feeds on now."
"Good. Go to Channel 16, and hurry!"
Bruce obeyed without question and opened up the wrist-computer that Dick had given him for his past birthday. He channeled it to the nearest satellite connection. News footage flashed across the holographic screen, showing images of a demolished office building. It looked like a bomb had completely destroyed its infrastructure. Firefighters were trying desperately to put out the fires that were ravaging the ground dangerously close to unearthed pipe lines.
"In a mysterious late-night bombing, a local Gotham business facility was completely demolished, and the fire department is struggling to put out the flames," the news anchor's voice droned. "It appears that there was no one in the building at the time of the attack and there are no reports of fatalities or injuries. However, locals are advised to evacuate the surrounding areas for the time being until the fires are under control. Currently, there are no suspects for this terrorist attack, though police are currently investigating the situation."
That was the company that I told the Team to investigate! Bruce's eyes widened. What exactly did they do?
"They were supposed to be on reconnaissance only," he muttered. "I'm going to have a very stern talk with the Team." Dick could say goodbye to video game privileges until he was college-age.
"That's just it, Bruce. The Team has not made contact with the League for several hours. All communications with them have been severed somehow."
"What?" The millionaire allowed his voice to show the slightest hint of emotion before once again regaining his stoic composure. "Why was I not alerted of this sooner?"
"We thought that they were keeping radio silence due to the nature of their mission. But when we saw the news report and tried to reach Robin's communicator, the line was dead. Nonexistent." Clark paused. "Has Dick contacted you in any way at all?"
Bruce was silent for a moment. "No, he hasn't." Then the Dark Knight said, "Meet me at the crime scene in ten minutes, and don't you dare be late, Kent."
After hurriedly disconnecting the phone call, Bruce reached down into a secret compartment under the Lamborghini's driver seat and pulled out his spare Batman suit. He never left home without it, just as he had taught Dick to never leave home without his utility belt. Bruce dressed swiftly into the Dark Knight's attire and signaled for the Batmobile to come to him. As the morning light peaked out over the city's horizon, the Caped Crusader all but ignored its beauty and gazed grimly towards the thin trail of smoke that he could guess was coming from the devastated office building, pondering the predicament Dick had gotten himself into. Batman knew from experience that his adopted son would never disobey orders without a good reason, nor would he deliberately cut off communications to him or the Justice League. Although Bruce knew that the raven-haired boy was more than capable of completing a mission without the League's or his back-up, Dick understood better than anyone that you could never be too careful. Something was definitely off.
A flash of movement caught the Dark Knight's eye. The Batmobile had arrived. Batman strode over to the vehicle, hopped in, and prepared a course for the crime scene.
If Dick was in trouble, things were about to get serious. Deadly serious.
This chapter is way shorter than the first, but I just could not for the life of me find a better way to add more without ending it strangely. Oh well. I hope y'all enjoyed!
(Reviews make the world go round, you know.)