These Black Eyes

by P0ST

The ongoing adventures and experiences of the Teen Titans, as witnessed through the eyes of a silent newcomer.

234. A Hard Act to Follow part 19

234. A Hard Act to Follow part 19

November 30, 2004.
Gotham City.

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Their hands were all over and around her.

Leather straps and plastic.

Tubes and needles and tubes and needles.

Rattling sounds.

A ceiling. An elevator doorframe. Electric lights. Red sky. Polluted, crimson smog blotting out the stars.

There were voices.

And there were faces.

Uniformed strangers.

Men. Women.

Fingers pointing.

Hands joining.

Arms hoisting.

More rattling.

A tilt to the world.

Plastic tubes and cases pressing.

Sliding…gliding….drifting into an ambulance.

Beeping and blinking.

A distant twirl of something vaguely resembling a world.

Some voice trying to act motherly.

Then jabbing in a needle.

But with no pain.

A pair of lips shuddered, encased in an oxygen mask.

Blue eyes rolled back.

Doors slammed shut.

A siren through the ceiling wailed.

Like a reaper scratching through the walls of a mausoleum with dead cat claws.

There were more hands.

And more wires.

And more needles.

Jabbing and jabbing and jabbing.

She shuddered.

Squeaking a voice.

A name.

Heartbeat.

Heartbeat.

Heartbeat….

She couldn't feel a thing.

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Gotham Countryside.
Mountain road.
11:43 pm

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Bruce Wayne drove north along the country roads in a brown convertible. He wove around hillsides, steep drops, and mountainous faces of the topographical scenery.

He took a deep breath of the air blowing against his face. He managed a contented curve of his lips. He gazed to the right.

The glove compartment had opened ever so slightly ajar. A Dark Knight uniform and a softly packaged bunch of golden vials hid inside. He reached a hand over once on a straightaway and cautiously clapped the compartment closed. It took merely a quick change in his personal lockerroom at the Wayne Corp. building to switch to the aristocratic 'persona'. A thorough interview with investigators brought everyone up to date with the huge brawl that had taken place downstairs in the skyscraper's vault. A disaster in the gradual making had swiftly been reversed. The damage suffered by Wayne Corp. would be great, but nowhere near as great had Batman and his troupe not intervened. A lot of families were about to be reunited with the hostage-taken employees. It was a night to rejoice rather than to worry.

Vrrrrmmmmm!

Bruce turned a final corner and spotted the gates to Wayne Manor up ahead. He absentmindedly reached for the remote under his dashboard that would trigger the gates to open from afar…but then he noticed something.

The gates were already open.

And a single, glaring headlight was burning through, zooming Bruce's way.

The billionaire's eyes narrowed. He slowed his convertible and veered to the right.

VRMMMMMMMM! A motorcycle sped past the car. Motorcycle with a darkly dressed, black-haired young man on it.

Bruce's lips pursed: "Dick……?"

SCREEEECH! The motorcyle swerved and braked with a sideways slide. Dick breathlessly glared Bruce's way. "There you are! I've been trying to get in touch with you!"

Bruce slowed his vehicle to a stop and half-stood in his seat. "What's going on, Dick? What's the matter?"

"You mean you haven't heard?"

"…….."

"It's Barbara, Bruce!" Dick uttered fiercely. "She's been hurt. Bad."

"……………….," it took Bruce Wayne three seconds to figure it out. Six seconds total to brave an utterance: "Deathstroke….."

Dick gripped the handles of the bike and more or less motioned with his head southward. Towards the City. "They're taking her to Gotham Central Med! The Commissioner should already be there by now. I'm going down to check on her."

"I'm going with you."

"Sorry, Bruce, but not even the devil could catch up with me tonight…," Dick hissed to the air and gunned it. VRMMMMMMMM! He bulleted dangerously down the mountain roadways, kicking up gravel.

Bruce performed a tricky three-point-turn. Once his convertible was angled out just right, he steered with one hand while he dialed on a car phone with another. He picked the phone up and raised it to his ear.

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Riing! Riing!

Alfred was pacing around the study. When the phone ran on the nearby table, he immediately went towards it and picked it up.

"Sir?"

"Alfred, have you—?"

"Yes, sir. It's quite terrible."

"Have you heard any details?"

"Your emergency tracker would educate you far more better than I could. But the reports we've gotten are very grim indeed."

"When did it happen?"

"We figure shortly after Master Dick dropped Miss Gordon off at her apartment. That's where it took place, sir. In her home. The neighbors supposedly heard a huge gun blast and—"

"Alfred, I'm in a hurry. This is undoubtedly the work of Deathstroke, which means that he has a greater grip on all of us than I ever imagined. Tell me. Robin and Noir. Where are they?"

"I…..erhm…..it's th-the same as with Master Dick, sir. I couldn't exercise restraint…"

"What do you mean, Alfred?"

"They left already. And they took our young blonde guest with them."

"Where did they go? The hospital?"

"Not exactly, sir."

T-T-T-T-T-T-

December 1, 2004.
Downtown Gotham City.
12:13 am.
Apartment Buildings.

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Where the street was previously filled to the brim with ambulances and paramedics, now police squad cars of various shapes and colors heavily populated the asphalt and even the sidewalks. A crowd watched curiously on the sidelines as officers filed in and out of one of the apartment buildings…heading up towards a higher floor. Towards a particular room. There had to have been at least fifty officers there.

The world turns when the daughter of Gotham City's police commissioner is shot.

A breath of wind….

Robin landed from a high swinging grappling cord. He perched on a neighboring building's rooftop and gazed at the apartment being concentrated on. He was breathing heavier…more raggedly than normal. Vapor visibly left his mouth in the cold, wintry air.

Fw-Fwoosh!

I came to a blurring stop, smoke trailing. I looked worriedly at the apartment. Then at him.

He glanced at me. He motioned silently for me to keep my position.

I nodded obediently.

The Boy Wonder fired another grappling hook. POW! Cl-Clank! It embedded into the building across the way. He swung over and perched on a fire escape…landing conveniently outside of Barbara Gordon's platform. He kept a low profile, snuck up to the window pane, and stared in through the glass. He thinned his eyemask, visibly concentrating.

Dozens of bodies swayed back and forth. Studying the room. Covering the rooms from head to toe. Flashbulbs strobed as photographic evidence was taken of the room. Everything looked neat and orderly. Except for…

Robin gulped.

From where he craned his neck outside, he could see the front door of the apartment's atrium. There was red…red….red….

Everywhere.

The Boy Wonder shuddered. He clenched his fists, calmed himself with a deep breath, and looked fixedly at the investigators.

"………"

His gaze finally rested on Montoya. She looked tired. Drained. Wounded….

She was directing people around, feeding off information of those conducting the investigation.

She was the source.

"Okay, Jericho….," Robin whispered. "See the woman that I'm staring at? That's the one. Now….let's do it just like we planned….okay? Just wait for a good moment for her to look this way…..wait……….wait……….."

Montoya spoke to one officer.

Her chocolate brown eyes were thin.

She sighed and nodded, saying something to a pair of men. Another person walked up. She turned towards him and started speaking. Her eyes darted up. They aimed in the general direction of the window….

"Now, Jericho!"

Robin braced himself for the dizzy sensation.

A green light pulsed out of his eyemasks and—

CONTACT

FL-FLASH!

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FL-FLASH!

Montoya blinked. She stumbled and rubbed her head.

"Nnnngh…."

"Montoya?"

"Renee, you okay?"

"Yes….I….just…," she stood more steadily and shook her head. Rubbing her temples. "….Th-This has been a lot to take in one evening…."

"The doctors are taking care of her now. Let's do what we can here."

"Hey….you need a break?"

"Me?" Montoya clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Never. Now…where were we?"

A man was going over samples and gesturing to parts of the room as he said: "There were some lead shot found in the doorframe. We think it went clear through the victim's body upon point blanc shot. No cartridges were found, although one left an impression in the blood at the atrium of the apartment and we've having experts attempting to determine the exact gauge from it….which is rather difficult, if you can imagine…"

"Right…."

"There're no footsteps in the blood. Seemingly no organic traces left. No signs of a struggle with the victim, but we're still not sure if all the blood here is entirely Barbara Gordon's. We're looking into that with random sampling."

"What about that door?"

"Hmm? What door?"

Montoya pointed towards a large, wooden door with a metal frame on the far side of the apartment. "Where's that lead? Miss Gordon's bedroom?"

"No, ma'am. We haven't been able to get in there yet."

"Why not?" Montoya asked, making a face.

"It's….it's sealed tight. Metal reinforcement. And there's a numberpad that needs a four-digit string code for it to open."

"Something that only Miss Gordon knows, no doubt…."

"Right. And with her incapacitated at the moment, it's next to impossible to open."

"Not impossible, officer. If someone could sneak into this apartment, blow a hole through the Commissioner's daughter, and then slip away without a trace….then anyone can and could have gone into that room."

"Very true, ma'am."

"What did Barbara want protected in there, anyways?" Montoya spoke, more to herself than to anyone. She ran a hand through mahogany hair and shuddered. "Did she keep valuables in her apartment? Real gold or silver instead of a bank account?"

"We think it's a panic room of sorts," one officer said. "A place to go to for safety. No windows, just one huge…heavy door."

Another officer gestured: "She is the daughter of Gotham City's Commissioner, after all…."

Renee nodded. "True….true…."

"Guess she was in the wrong place at the right time."

"Less speculation and more searching," Montoya said. "Try and find a way inside that door."

"Yes, ma'am."

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On the outside of the apartment, Robin remained perched on the fire escape.

He took a deep breath and gripped the window frame from the outside. He tensed his muscles, concentrated…and slowly….gently….lifted the glass open without making a sound or performing a jerking movement of any sort. He produced a birdarang and stuck it in the window frame just beneath the glass, holding the window open. He then reached into his utility belt and pulled out a dart gun of sorts. He exhaled, steadied himself, squinted one half of his mask, aimed through the crack in the window, and fired.

Pifft!

A tiny dart with a sleeping potion flew through the interior and struck Renee Montoya in the neck.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Th-Thap!

Montoya jolted. "Nnngh…," instantly, her face tensed. Then the skin on her face softened. Her eyes rolled back…closed…and her body seemed to 'hang' in air for a moment.

"……."

Then her eyes suddenly flickered back open. A green light strobed momentarily over the chocolate pupils, and she stood up straight and tall. A new determination falling over her features. She cleared her throat, marched across the apartment, and approached the officers at the door.

"You know what? That's going to take too long…," she said.

One officer looked back at her. "Ma'am?"

"Go get some of the laser cutters from the S.T.A.R. Labs crew down in the street. That should help us get inside the electronics so that we can hotwire the system and bypass the security."

"…….," the offices exchanged glances. After a moment, they glanced back at Montoya as one of them said: "Ma'am, we'd be glad to…b-but none of us are really that much of an expert on—"

"I think I can do the trick," she suddenly smiled.

"Ma'am?"

She cracked her knuckles. "You don't excel as a detective just by pushing paper, now do you? I have a hand at…hacking. As long as you get that tool, we should be able to make this go a lot faster. Now….go down there. Both of you. I trust you can do a delivery job well enough."

"Uhh…s-sure thing!"

"Right away!"

The officers left, taking one or two of the investigators with them. The side of the apartment closest to the window was barren.

"………..," Montoya gazed mutely at the other side of the interior. Once the coast was clear, she turned and gestured to the window in perfect sign-language: 'Okay. Now!'

Robin opened the window, dove in, and gently rolled to a kneeling position on the ground. The entire entrance was perfectly soundless. He crept over and tilted his head up to look at Montoya directly. "You in there, Jericho?"

Montoya nodded. "I'm here, Robin. Renee's 'asleep' at the moment."

"Can you tell when she'll 'wake up'?"

"As long as we don't jostle her in the….erm….next hour or two, it should be all right. Besides, she's dreaming."

"Good dreams?"

Montoya took a deep breath. "Would you have good dreams after today, Robin?"

The Boy Wonder winced at that. "I'm almost disappointed you can't talk normally all the time, Jericho."

"I'm not about to complain. Especially tonight," Montoya mumbled. She pointed momentarily green-flickering eyes towards the reinforced door. "Should I really hack into that? Or do you know your friend's code?"

"Of course I know it…," Robin ran over as the 'detective' followed. "The 'Oracle' only trusts her friends. Her real life friends."

"Ah. So this is where Barbara keeps her computer network hub," Montoya nodded. "That's not a bad idea."

"Yeah…well…it didn't work like she wanted it to," Robin muttered as he typed away at the number key.

"…….," Montoya sighed. "I-I suppose not…."

Robin made a face in the middle of inserting the code.

"What's wrong? Is the code not working?"

"It's working all right, I just….j-just get a funny feeling…."

"Like what?"

"Like someone's been in here before us. Recently."

Montoya bit her lips childishly. "D-Deathstroke?"

"………," Robin took a deep breath and reached for his metal staff. "Stand back. There might be something bad on the other side of this door."

The 'detective' nodded.

Robin half-glanced at her. "And that's not your body you're using now…"

Montoya took a breath and stepped back quite a distance.

Snrkkt! Robin extended his staff. He reached a gloved hand out, held his breath, waited a few seconds, and….

Click!

HISS! SCHLOCK!

Montoya looked over her shoulder nervously.

Nobody came that way.

Robin stepped aside.

The door slid open.

Robin walked forward. He disappeared into the room. Silence.

Silence………..

"…………………," Montoya shifted nervously where she stood. She looked towards the other side of the room again. Nothing. She waited. She leaned left and right. Finally, after a breath, she walked forward and pensively….entered the room.

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Immediately as Montoya entered the room, the foul copper smell of blood filled her nose.

She took no more than three steps and stopped dead in her tracks.

Gasping.

There was a trail of blood in a solid line creeping across the carpet. Slash marks from a sword scarred the ground and scraped furniture and smashed in rows of computer monitors like the whiptail of a charging dragon. Lights were sparkling….crackling….shooting tiny electric bolts here and there. The trail of madness led to the far wall where a 'U' of a desk with computer stations rested. But everything was I disarray. Monitors had been tossed to the floor. And a wall that was once blocked off by towers and hardware equipment now stretched pale and barren.

…..Except for the lines in red blood splashed in tiny, fine print across the wall's surface to resemble legible words.

Barbara Gordon's blood….

It read from corner to corner….

'I missed you this evening, Robin. Barbara was in the way. Unless I get your life once again quivering in my hand too, I'll be visiting the rest of the loved ones of yours that are also in the way. Starting with the Titans, Robin. Starting with the Titans. And next time, I promise to aim higher.'

Montoya's lips quivered. Her eyes flickered green as tiny tears squeezed out of the corners. She cupped a hand over her lips and murmured: "F-Father….no….."

"……………," Robin took a deep, seething breath. Both his fists were clenched. He stared at the voluminous words long and hard. He studied the way the first sentences dripped with fresh blood and how the last few words were like dried out amber. Barbara had to have been bleeding to death the entire time Slade got the life juice necessary to produce such a long 'letter'. And to Robin….

Montoya looked nervously at the Boy Wonder, hugging herself. Trembling.

Robin shook….shook…..positively vibrated……..and then was still. His fists were clenched so tight that—if it weren't for the gloves—he would likely rip his own palm open with his fingernails.

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"……….," I stood restlessly on the rooftop away from the apartment complex. The police lights strobed in the faraway street and fed the air below and above me with a pulsating red aura. It disturbed me….made me want to look over my shoulder with paranoia. I shuddered to breathe.

Silence…..

Sw-Swish!

I positively jumped.

I glanced over.

Robin had landed with a shivering, young blonde under his arm. Jericho looked shaken up.

My black eyes squinted under my shades.

Jeez, Ana. What did they see down there?

I gestured to Robin: 'What is it?'

He glared at me. Fuming.

"…….," I blinked.

Robin looks……

Like Robin again……

I bit my lip.

I haven't seen such a glare from him since……

Since I was first 'Wyldecarde'……

I shivered at the thought.

He marched past me, stomping.

I again gestured while mouthing: 'What did you find?'

He stopped with his back to me.

He stood alone on the rooftop.

The cold wintry winds blew at us all, but while Jericho and I shivered in the slight flake-fall of frost, Robin was unshaken.

He was inhuman. Strong. A statue. A shaking, charging statue.

Tim?

Where's Tim?

A growl escaped his throat. Something I had heard curse Slade in many a frustrated tongue before. The same voice that had yelled at Wyldecarde, cussed out Johnny Rancid, and challenged Dagger when the whole City of ours was burning. It was Robin incarnate. Back from the grave like never before that night…

"RrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRAAAUGHHHHH!" he snarled and kicked a t.v. antenna clear out of its ceiling brace. CRACK!

Jericho and I winced. Two hapless mutes…

Robin then ran, approached a twirling A/C sphere, and kicked it too off its foundation.

CRKKK!

He stood. Lungs heaving. His hair a disheveled mess, much like his cape.

"…….," I slowly…hesitantly approached him from behind. A hand reaching towards his shoulder, gently….

Robn spun around. Robin glared.. Robin pointed. Robin said: "Get him inside of you and follow me."

Jericho shuddered.

I leaned my head to the side and mouthed: 'Where?'

Robin took a deep breath. Staring off. Glaring towards the red sky. "The Hospital…..," he deflated.

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Barbara Gordon was carted into the operation room of the Gotham Central Medical Center. In no time at all, a thick group of expert physicians had clustered around her needled and tubed figure and proceeded to further needle and tube her. They assaulted her with plastics and medication to keep her dwindling body alive.

Voices muffled to each other. Sharp commands. Numbers and operating tool names. Blood packets. More blood packets. Electrical equipment. More light.

The chief surgeon wandered in, sterilized and wearing gloves. He looked swiftly over notes and stats being provided by another masked nurse. He nodded, gave a command, and walked over to the patient.

Suddenly, a voice uttered behind him: "I think you'll be needing another pair of hands, Doctor…"

He turned and looked. His eyes widened a bit under his cap. "D-Dr. Thompkins!"

Leslie Thompkins walked in, also sterilized. Suited cleanly for the operation room. "I hear the Commissioner's Daughter is in bad shape. Let's not waste any time."

"Doctor, all respect intended….b-but I thought you retired! You've been plagued with chronic arthritis for the last few years and--"

"A doctor never retires," she said, muffled through her mask. "Where her hands lose out, her mind winds. At least let me be an extra set of eyes. I've dealt with this sort of condition before."

The doctor took a deep breath, and he seemed almost to smile under his mask. "Good to have you along, Dr. Thompkins. Please…we need to hurry."

"Let me have a look. Where's the worst of the damage?"

"As you see here, the blast from the suspect left most of the sacrum in disarray. There's extensive damage to the coccyx, but the sacroiliac joints are almost completely gone."

"Any remaining tissue from the spinal cord along the lower sacrum?"

"We think the nerves may have been broken even higher up with the duress experienced by the rest of the backbone from the intensity of the impact, which is the least to say about her liver, pancreas, and upper smaller intestines. I've never seen anything like it. This sort of a blast at close range should have driven a hole through her entire body. But everything seems directed specifically into the vertebrae."

"It's not our job to question it, only to fix it."

"Right. We're going in. Nurse! Let's have someone by Doctor Thompson's side throughout the operation too. Doctor, I may need more than just your brain after all."

"For this girl, I'd donate a good few of my spinal fluid any day…."

"One thing at a time. Henson! More blood, stat!"

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"……..," the Commissioner sat in the hospital hallway. His head in his hands. Bent over…hunched.

Silence…save for the shuffling sounds of nearby officers in waiting and the distant beeps of ICU equipment.

Bullock was in the room. He forewent the toothpick, choosing instead to wring his chubby hands and glare at the floor tile.

And a few chairs away, Dick Grayson sat. His arms folded. Also hunched….staring at the floor.

"…………….."

A body walked by.

Dick looked up. His lips parted some. Weak eyes managed to widen ever so slightly just to take in the sight of the newcomer and register his existence….

Bruce Wayne strolled through the hallway. He stood before Commissioner Gordon for a few seconds. His face was long. His hands were in his pockets. He stared through the old man seemingly. Silent. Waiting.

"……………..," Gordon's gray eyes didn't move an inch as he muttered: "Th-They say that….even if she lives…….she will be paralyzed throughout half of her body……"

Bruce took a deep breath.

He gazed over at the distant doors to the operating room. Cold and blue. Silent.

"I heard Dr. Thompkins came to assist the surgery…."

Gordon was silent.

Bruce looked over: "She's good, Jim. She won't let the worst happen to Barbara."

"The worst has already happened…," the Commissioner murmured.

Silence.

Bruce ran a hand through his dark hair. He walked over and knelt in front of the Commissioner. "Jim….," he said in a low voice.

The gray-haired man looked up.

"The best is yet to happen…," he gently squeezed the father's forearm. "Hang in there. Keep faith in your daughter. Barbara's a fighter. She'll make it through this…."

"…………," James Gordon merely tilted his head down and rested his face in his hands. He shook a bit. Silent. Shuddering.

On the sidelines, Bullock stood. Staring at the two gentlemen. A sad face stretched his usually pudgy face. Than his features hardened into a frown as if a thought melted over him. He clenched his fist, spun silently around, and stomped down the hallway….brushing violently past a pair of quietly conversing police officers.

Dick Grayson stared at the ceiling. He too grew tense. He stood up and—with limbs tight—marched the opposite way down the hall. He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce Wayne looked up.

Dick motioned with his head towards a stairwell and marched silently towards it.

Bruce nodded. He gave Gordon a final pat on the shoulder, slowly stood up, and walked after his former ward.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

The door creaked and filled the stairwell with echoing, reverberating noise. Dick wandered in and held the door open.

Bruce pushed through after him.

They walked onto a platform of the eighth floor and let the door close on its own behind them.

An echoing slam, magnified by the claustrophobic metal and cinderblock walls. Then, silence.

Silence….until Dick, leaning back against a wall with his arms crossed, faced Bruce and said: "How'd it happen, Bruce? How didn't we see him trailing us the whole time?"

"Deathstroke must be more powerful than we imagined. His powers must be able to emulate the stealth of Noir by now, if not perfect it."

'Why didn't we consider these options before?"

'We did consider these options, but—"

"But what?" Dick glared.

Bruce stared back. Firmly. "I had no idea that Red Aviary would have an inkling to our alternate identities."

"You had no idea? Bruce, isn't it obvious? He trailed Barbara and I!"

"And you didn't sense him?"

"Look, don't you dare pin this all on me!" Dick snarled and marched towards Bruce, finger pointing. "You think I haven't had a second go by tonight without feeling like shit for what's happened? You're the expert detective of us all, Bruce! You've fought the Joker, Ra's Al Ghul, and the Royal Flush Gang! How could Deathstroke possibly be any stronger or any smarter than what you've faced already?"

"Dick, I took all the necessary precautions I could," Bruce said, eyes glaring back at him. "I kept us under the radar. I had Robin and Noir concealed. Only when it was critical to strike at Triangular did I have the troupe go out into the open en masse like I did. I expected us to be safe—if not a formidable force—in a group as opposed to one on one. But Deathstroke isn't like any of the fiends you or I have faced before. He doesn't get any reward save for death itself. His power is solely the loss of other people. He doesn't use henchmen, he doesn't use psychotic weapons, he simply does that which he hungers for. Murder."

"He hasn't murdered Barbara, Bruce!" Dick growled. He mutilated her! And what for? Don't you dare freakin' tell me it's all just to get at Robin and the Titans!"

"………"

"Nnnnghh!" Dick spun and kicked the metal railing of the nearby stairs. He stood. He heaved. He spoke with his back to the Billionaire: "…I was there, Bruce. I was there….right at her apartment doorstep, practically. Why couldn't I have stayed and protected her? Why did I leave her alone? Why couldn't I tell that Slade was nearby?"

"I wouldn't have done any better, Dick, honestly," Bruce said. He gestured while talking: "And quite frankly, neither would have Noir…"

Dick turned around, blue eyes thin. "Even though he's—"

"I believe Deathstroke is out of his hands now. He's proven to all of us that he's more than capable of claiming whatever victims he chooses. He's a bastardized pole of the secret, spectral energy that Noir has studied. I don't think Noir can manage a silver bullet anymore. I don't think any of us can….not right now, at least."

"Then what? We try and grow stronger or some crap?" Nightwing shrugged. "I'm sorry, Bruce. But Deathstroke's won this battle…"

Bruce's lips parted. "Dick?"

"The Titans have enough resources to save their own pimply asses for all I care," the former ward gestured with a frown. "The only person who could possibly need my help now is Barbara. I'm not about to let her down….again."

"Dick, this isn't over…"

"For you, maybe it isn't!" Dick growled. "Dammit, don't you see, Bruce? This isn't some beat on the town where you end up stringing up a couple of robbers on a street corner light near a bank robbery. This isn't one of those times when you beat the Joker up and throw him back into Gotham. This is a black hole. It's sucking us up. It's sucked up so many lives—both good and bad—in this City already. We're just next in line. I don't see how throwing ourselves right into the line of fire is going to help us end up any better than Barbara!"

"Dick, we're heroes…"

"We're human, Bruce! Hell, at least I am! You and Robin can have your hardcore shit for all I care! Nightwing's on the coat rack till Barbara pulls through this, I swear to God!" and Dick marched towards it, reaching for the door.

Bruce's hand grabbed the younger man's wrist.

Dick looked up, glaring.

Bruce leaned forward and spoke in the Dark Knight's voice: "Long ago…I told you that something terrible might happen. That because of the sanctity of your alternate identity, someone you know or love might suffer a terrible fate. I asked you then if you would have the integrity to stand up for what was just and continue the fight. You told me 'yes', then. Was that a different Dick I knew? Someone less likely to let the fear of evil persuade him into oblivion?"

Dick slowly nodded: "You're right about one thing, Bruce. This does deal with someone I know and love." He took a deep breath. Nostrils flaring. "I love her, Bruce. So help me God, I never stopped loving Barbara. If it takes oblivion for me to make up for the Hell that's happened to her tonight, so be it. You're on your own, Batman. But something tells me….you're used to that…"

The door creaked as Dick opened it and returned to the hallway.

Bruce stood alone.

Gazing down at the metalworks of the platform beneath his feet.

He let loose a deep sigh, alone in the stairwell.

The door creaked again, swung back, and closed with thunderous echoes.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Bruce stumbled out of the plaza entrance of the hospital.

Immediately, he spotted just outside the elliptical driveway for emergency vehicles the first of many t.v. news vans to assemble at the location. Technicians and reporters were scrambling to get a broadcast ready detailing the Comissioner's daughter's tense situation.

Bruce sniffed indignantly. He didn't want to be asked any questions. So, the easily recognizable billionaire pulled his collar up around the back of his neck and made his way through the shadows towards his distant convertible.

Before he got to the parking lot—however—he already heard muttering voices nearby. People were tilting their heads back and looking up.

"…….."

Bruce glanced up.

The bat-signaled shimmered in the air.

Illuminating cloudcover over the red night.

"………"

T-T-T-T-T-T-

FW-FWOOSH!

I murked up to the top floor of the hospital.

Robin swung down and landed beside me in a crouch. He took his sweet time standing up. His fists were still clenched as he breathed gently and marched towards the elevator shaft's top engine compartment from far.

In the meantime, I braced myself, took my shades off, and gazed intently at the rooftop just beside me.

It took very little time. With a dizzy sensation that shook me from the head to the knees, Jericho exited out of me.

FL-FLASH!

In a green strobe, the young blonde appeared to my left. He stood up and gulped nervously Robin's way.

I gazed at my leader too.

Silent.

He glanced back at us. Glaring. Eyemask like an iron helmet visor.

I said nothing.

He wants to go alone again……

Robin gripped a panel of the elevator engine compartment. He growled. CRKK! He yanked the 'door' open and jumped inside. Soon he would be producing a grappling hook and lowering himself down the elevator shaft to where Barbara no doubt was. But the compartment door closed before I could watch him do such.

I could only stand there and sigh.

Shifting nervously.

Robin……alone……

Jericho nervously side-stepped to my left.

I brought a black hand over and gently ruffled his hair before resting a hand on his shoulder.

He leaned against my hip, shuddering. For a second, I thought I was going to see him cry again. But I figured, he had run out of tears.

I bit my lip.

Had Robin begun to lose them?

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Gotham City Downtown.
Police Department Building.
12:52 am.
Rooftop.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

POW!

Cl-Clank!

SWOOOOSH!

Batman swung over via grappling hook.

He landed on top of the Police Department Building where the signal shimmered towards the Gotham Sky.

Eyeslits narrow, Batman marched forward and stopped at the sight of one may fingering the switch to the giant , bat-emblazed beacon.

"Always prompt as usual," Detective Bullock frowned and stepped out of some shadows. "But like most homing pigeons these days, you only come out when there's no noise being heard."

Batman uttered coldly: "Bullock, what is it? What's the problem?"

"Jeez Louise!" Bullock shrugged his shoulders and marched forward some more. "Haven't ya heard?" He frowned. He pointed across downtown. "The Commissioner's Daughter has been snapped in two by some deranged lunatic with a shotgun for a sex toy! You telling me you don't know about that?"

"I know all about the Commissioner's daughter," Batman hissed. "I don't need you to tell me."

"Heh…yeah…I bet."

Batman glanced at the signal, then at Bullock. With a suspicious glare he uttered: "Bullock, what did you summon me for?"

"Just….this….," and the detective coiled his body with clenched teeth and a tight fist.

Batman easily saw it minutes ahead of time. He stepped back and gripped Bullock's thrown punch with his gloved palm. TH-THAP! "Bullock, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for all of us! But the last person you should be taking your frustration out on is me!"

"Is that so, wise cracker?" Bullock yanked his arm back and sneered. "I'm not half as lazy as I make myself look sometimes! Up until that god damn holocaust in lil' Barb's apartment, I was interrogating some of the creeps you and the Bat Troupe brought in this evening! Yeah, you're right about Triangular and all that shit. Sure you're right! You're always right! But then there's a little something those idiots were telling us that you neglected to mention! Something about a Parasite! A Red Reaper streaking his god damn metaphysical way across Gotham and murdering big name people left and right! And that's something that explains the deaths of the Terrible Troupe when that zeppelin hit town! And the murders of Bolton! And of the warehouses by the pier! And what's more…you knew about all of them!"

"Bullock, you cannot even begin to understand," Batman firmly said. "My partners and I have been on this case for over a month now. We're so close to catching this fiend in the act that it's almost laughable."

"Was the Commissioner's daughter being wasted 'close' enough for you, jerk?" Bullock gestured. "You know, I don't see some sort of courageous vigilante fighting darkness under cover! Instead, I see a winged rat panicking and fighting for his life! And thanks to him making things noisy for a force a hell of a lot stronger than him—or anyone else in the City for that matter—it's the REALLY innocent people who bite it in the end! How's that for 'laughable'?"

"Bullock, I've taken every precaution I could. Every tool at my disposal I've used to track down Triangular and this 'reaper'. I cannot fathom how Barbara Gordon suffered the way she did, but I promise you with my word….I will find this psychopath. And I will bring him to justice."

"Justice? HA! What good can you possibly do now, Batsy? You think the Commish is gonna be your friend after this? I'm surprised if he doesn't hate you more than I do! And that's say a lot!"

Batman grunted: "I don't have time for this…" The Dark Knight turned and headed towards the buildingside with a grappling hook. "The last thing I need to be doing is arguing endlessly with you while Miss Gordon's life hangs by a thread. If there's any stopping what's left of Triangular and the Reaper, I need to continue my work. Now."

"Ah! Fine! Just ride off into the night like you always do!" Bullock shouted. "Go on ahead! It's not like I care! You know why, Batsy? Because I'm sick of your unlawful romps across this City and I'm sick of all the grime and disease you bring to fester in Arkham, and most of all….

Bullock turned towards the bat signal..

He seethed…he heaved….

With his obese girth, he gripped the sides of the bat signal and lifted with all his might. "Nnnnghh…..NNNNnnnghhhh!"

Batman's lips parted as he watched.

"NnnnngghhhAAAAAUGH!" Bullock mightily tipped the hulking signal over the edge of the rooftop. The iconographic device snapped free of it power source, fell past the windows the entire height of the Gotham City Police Department, and smashed with a discharge of glass and shrapnel on the street far below.

CRKKKK!

A few seconds later, cars screeched to a halt, honking madly as a traffic jam around the fresh crater formed.

Sweating….hot red….Bullock turned around and glared at Batman. He spat: "….I am sick…and TIRED…..of cleaning….after you." He wiped his brow, panted for breath, and further grunted: "No more, Batsy! Do you hear me?"

Batman silently faced the building edge again, fired his grappling hook, and swung off.

Bullock ran to the edge and shook his fist. "The charade ends now! I swear, I'll get as many good guys on my side and shove this vigilante act right back up your ass where it came from! No…MORE!"

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Batman swung up to the high scaffolds of an archaic cathedral in downtown Gotham City.

He landed and perched on a ledge besides a string of gargoyles.

A light frost started to fall as he wrapped his cape back over his shoulders and crossed his arms.

Hunched over, the brooding Knight tilted his mask towards the streets below.

His eyeslits thinned to oblivion.

He took a deep, fuming breath.

"……….."

The eyeslits opened again.

And he just sat there, still as stone.

Glaring into the urban abyss….

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Hospital.
1:22 am.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

The operation was going into its second hour.

Thompkins hovered around the operating table while the other surgeon and two other physicians were busily reaching in with tools and separating folds of flesh while the leftover bone was tended to.

Various utensils and supplies were redistributed in a line towards the operating table.

Instruments minded by a nurse or two beeped on the sidelines.

A hissing, faint breath underscored the entire scene.

Nearly seven people total were working on Barbara's life.

In an a/c ventilation shaft built into the side of the room, Robin climbed up—barely squeezed through the vertical tunnel. He strained to keep himself upright as he gazed out the thin slits in the metal. He could barely see from where he was located…but in between the bodies of the surgeons enwrapped in sterilized material…circling….

He could have sworn he saw a bit of pale flesh.

Barbara's silent skin.

Robin shuddered.

His eyemask went round as he bit his lip.

"…….."

T-T-T-T-T-T-

"……," I stood on the rooftop of the hospital. Shuffling a deck of cards in my hand. Gazing towards the dark red horizon of Gotham.

I was silent. Still. And I barely registered Jericho a few feet off gesturing in the air: 'In my digital days as 'J', I never thought I would actually see the Oracle. I never planned on seeing her get hurt like this either. It is very sad……'

"…………."

Jericho looked over at me.

He gulped.

He whistled.

"…….," I looked at him numbly.

He shakily hand-signed: 'Noir, are you okay?'

"………," I sighed. I gazed off again.

'Noir?'

I flinched.

I pocketed the cards away.

I brought a flesh and black hand up.

And as Jericho watched me, I hand-signed….

T-T-T-T-T-T-

"It's all my fault, Barbara….," Robin murmured. Quietly. Keeping the whispering echoes of his own voice inside the shaft. "I failed you…."

Beeping sounds.

Feet shuffling.

The operation lingering….droning on….

"Red Aviary…..Slade….he wanted me…..and he knew all about me….," his fists clenched and Robin shook all over. "….he hurt you to get to me…."

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Jericho leaned his head to the side. He seemed hurt. He hand-signed: 'What do you mean?'

I looked his way. Defeated.

I gestured: 'Just what I said. It is all my fault. I am the reason Red Aviary ever existed. I am the reason why anyone died. I am the reason for Barbara being like this.'

Jericho bit his lip. He gestured: 'That is not true and you know it! You have done your best all this time to stop Red Aviary and save your friends! Terra and the Titans owe their lives to you!'

'Soon they will lose their lives because of me.'

"………"

'I gave it to him, Joey. I gave your daddy 'death'.'

T-T-T-T-T-T-

"I obsessed over Slade. I gave him every bit as much passion as he gave to consuming me…"

Robin shuddered.

Unseen eyes clenched shut under his mask.

"And to get to me, he's used my friends. Just like all the times he's ever used my friends. Torturing them….to get to me…."

T-T-T-T-T-T-

'You were right to warn me about my anger, Joey. About my hatred. I never defeated Slade. I only helped him. I made him stronger the first second I put on Wyldecarde's uniform and struck blows against the Titans. I thought I was changing things. I thought I was……breaking the circle. But I was not breaking the circle. I let things repeat. I rebooted all of this crap so that it could spin around and kick us in the ass once again. There is nothing heroic in that, Joey. Your father still breathes and kills because of me. Because of the Red that I gave into for but a split second……when all I was trained for was Black. There's no mercy for such irresponsibility. Only death. And there has been……so……so much death……on my account………'

T-T-T-T-T-T-

"I've been so selfish, Barbara. So selfish. I've chosen the easy ways out. I've hidden in the dark. I tried to escape from the Red Menace coming to eat me alive. But each second I avoid him, Slade only gets stronger. Because he consumes more. And more. And more. And before I know it, he'll consume me. But with my last breath, I will look around….and all my friends will be gone. Why? Because he will have annihilated them. Each and every one of them. Heroes and innocents who deserved anything but the gruesome fate given to them. Who am I to determine who lives and who dies? This is a bloody aviary for which I am the bird. I mustn't let the prowling cat toy with its prey any longer. I must….feed his appetite. I must feed him. And poison him. And rip him from the inside out for every torturous lead pellet he ever slugged into you. I….I-I must…….I m-must….."

T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Annie! No!"

"R-Run, Robin!" she points at him. Reaching out from the quivering mass of mud. "H-Hurry!"

He gasps. His eyes quivering under his mask.

She disappears into the darkness.

And as her voice muffledly fades……

He feels his life suck out of him……and then shoot back in.

For he is so terribly……torturously alive.

In the shadow of her.

"NO!"

"Heheheheheh…," Clayface snarls.

CHIIING! Robin whips out a birdarang and flings it with a furious shout of hatred: "RAAAUGH!"

T-T-T-T-T-T-

I shuddered.

I took my shades off and rubbed my black eyes.

Jericho was silent, biting his lip.

I shook and looked off towards the growingly foggy world.

Panting…..

The corners of my obsidian optics moist….

Ana……

Ana, I'm so sorry……

You have so much faith in me.

But……

I failed them.

I failed my new family……

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin exhaled.

Weakly.

He shivered, nearly causing a rattling sound to give away his position in the shaft.

"I…I-I failed…," he murmured. "I was….weak….t-too weak…."

He planted two palms against his eyemask.

He gritted his teeth.

He hissedly breathed in through his clenched jaw.

"I let you die again, Annie……I l-let you die….," he lifted his hands and clenched his hair. He squinted through the grate at the doctors swarming around Barbara. "God help me, I let you die…….."

Silence.

He swallowed a lump down his throat…and began to slide himself stealthily towards the bottom of the shaft. And in so descending, a frown further and further crossed over his face with an accompanying snarl:

"I can't do it. I-I won't do it. N-Not to you. Not to you, Starfire. I….I'm not returning….," he reached the bottom. He crawled back the way which he came. "I'm not going back to the Titans. Robin is dead. So long as Tim lives, he is dead. Until Tim dies too…rest easy. So help me God, I'll give Slade what he wants. I'll give him me…and I will bring him with me to the land of Red to watch each other burn…."

And he crawled off into the darkness.

Somewhere, the ghost of a boy was left behind.

Again….

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Creeeak.

Jericho and I both looked over.

The metal door to the elevator engine room opened and Robin snaked out.

Sl-Slap!

The door closed loudly behind him.

With a tight face, he marched towards us. There was a firmness about his cadence that I hadn't seen since the day Dagger invaded a month ago.

"Noir. Jericho." He grunted. Perfect authority. Perfection. Perfection. "Return home to the Manor."

"………?" Jericho and I exchanged glances.

"I mean it," Robin pointed. "As Titan leader, that's a command." He coldly pointed. "Take care of Jericho and watch your back. Stay at the Manor and wait for me to contact you. I'm going out on patrol."

Jericho blinked. He mouthed incredulously: 'Patrol?'

"I won't be having any arguments," Robin said. He looked my way. "Tell Bruce if you see him—Dick too—that I won't be back for a while."

I held my hands up and gestured wildly.

"….."

I bit my lip. I hand-gestured: 'Tim, what is wrong? Is Barbara okay?'

He merely glared at me. "She's hurt," he said. "And it's 'Robin'. Thank you."

My fists clenched. I gritted my teeth, glaring Robin's way.

He turned his caped back to us and headed for the side of the rooftop. Reaching towards his utility belt. "There isn't much sunlight left. So excuse me. If I need to start at all, it's now—"

FWOOSH!

THWAP!

Robin was struck in the back. Hard.

"Augh!" he stumbled and fell on his chest. THWOMP! In a second, he spun around with a birdarang raised and looked around. Teeth showing.

Jericho was on the side of the rooftop, gasping. A hand over his small mouth. But besides that….

No one.

"……..," Robin breathed. He paused…then blinked under his mask. "Noir?"

CL-CLAK! His birdarang was suddenly propelled from his hand.

Robin gasped.

He spun and jumped up to his feet.

He walked backwards, panting…panting—

THWAP!

"Augh!" a punch to the back of his shoulders sent him stumbling to the ground again. He crouched up, snarling: "Noir….."

Silence.

Nothing.

Jericho trembled.

Robin stood up. "Noir….cut it out. I said…GO HOME."

Silence.

"……," Robin took a breath. He turned again to the buildingside. But just as he was about to walk—

TH-THWAP!

He tripped.

"Augh!" he acrobatically angled himself upright, snarled, and twirled around with his bo-staff outstretched. Snkkt! SWOOOSH! "I SAID KNOCK IT OFF, GOD DAMMIT!"

SLIIINK!

Sparks flew off the bar and splashed against Robin's face.

"Nnngh!" he dropped the bar and stumbled back, clutching his chin and neck.

Cl-Clang! The bar landed on the rooftop. CRACK! It broke in half.

Robin gasped and jumped down to grab for the shards--

WHAM!

He suddenly twirled and rolled to the side, wincing.

He stood up. "Nnnngh! Go ahead, Noir! GO AHEAD!" he shouted to the air. "You think this day hasn't gone to shit enough already? You think my life isn't shitty enough as it is? I don't need you, Noir! I NEVER NEEDED YOU! LEAVE ME…THE HELL…ALO—!"

THW-THWAP!

He wheezed as the air was knocked out of him. He painfully recovered with a flying kick aimed straight at the air.

His foot came to a stop at eye level. CLUTCH! Robin gasped. He barely had the chance to catch his balance when--

TH-THWIP! He was tossed back by his foot. He collapsed hard upside down and rolled across the rooftop.

"Mmmf! Ugh! Augh!"

He struggled on his knees. Panting. Sweating. He looked over. "J-Joey! For god's sake! He's lost his mind!"

Jericho shivered. He backed off….

"St-Stop him!" Robin panted.

Jericho hid pensively behind an a/c unit.

Robin shuddered. He stretched a gloved hand out. "H-Help me!" a voice inside of him trembled.

TH-THWAP!

He was shoved back.

Robin snarled and dove through mid-air, grabbing nothing.

TH-THWAP!

He rolled across the ground.

He braced himself against the elevator engine compartment and stood up. Knees wobbling. "Nnnngh! Damn you, Noir! What have you got to prove? Go ahead, kick me! Kick me when I'm down! You always choose moments like these to show your true colors….DON'T YOU?"

Robin swallowed. He looked towards the rooftop. He reached into his utility belt, produced a grappling hook, and made a dash for it. Just before he could leap and fire--

FW-FWOOSH! A smoking body barely appeared as it rammed into him.

WH-WHUMP!

Robin went tumbling across the rooftop like a ragdoll.

He winced, struggled to get up on his knees. Heaving all over. "I hate you Noir….I h-hate you…….you're so damn powerful…..you think you're a Titan….w-well you're not…..I'm the f-first Titan there ever was…and I-I know you're not one of them!" He tilted his head up and shouted: "YOU'RE A TORTURED FREAK! Don't think I don't know, Noir! Don't think I don't know that you aren't what you ever worked yourself out to be!" He stood up, shaking all over. Fists clenched. Spitting. "I became a Titan through blood and sweat! I broke myself into what you see today! It took YEARS to become Robin! YEARS, Noir! And you? You're just an accident! An experiment! What do you know what it's like to work so hard to save lives and do the impossible? You're selfish….y-you're pathetic! And I hate you! I….HATE…YOU!"

Robin slumped down on all fours. He shook. He quivered. His face around his eyemask clenched and he let out a long, shrieking wail: "RrnnnnghhhhrrrrraaaAAAAAAAUGGGGGGHHHHH!" He sat up and punched the rooftop till his knuckles bled under his gloves. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHHHHH!" He seethed. He pulled at his hair. He bent and scrunched in on himself. He quivered. He gritted his teeth until they positively cracked and finally let out a gasping shudder: "I-I hate you, Slade…..I hate you….." He hiccupped. He sniffed, and the voice of a teenage boy came out. "I hate you so much, Slade. Leave my friends alone….leave me and m-my f-f-friends alone….." He sniffed. He slid down to his side. He curled up and hid his soggy-masked 0face from the red night sky. "L-Leave me alone…..B-Barbara….Star…..S-Starfire….leave me alone….I'm so weak. He'll only hurt you." He sniffed. Shuddered. Sobbed. "I-I-I'll only h-hurt you……I'll only h-h-hurt y-you……I'm so sorry…..I-I'm so sorry I'm not strong enough…..I-I'm not strong enough to live, Starfire. I'm n-not strong enough to l-live…..I'm s-so sorry……"

The boy shook and gently cried in the middle of the cold, night-laden buildingtop.

A distance away, I materialized in a cascade of smoke.

Fw-Fwoosh!

I took a deep breath and leaned back against the elevator compartment. Staring naked-eyed at my leader…and at the young man slowly—but finally—peeling out of him.

Always, Ana. Always……

The best things to do are often the ones you don't want to do……

I shuddered.

I ran a hand through my hair.

Thank you.

Thank you for reminding me……

I looked to my left.

Jericho nervously looked at me. As if he couldn't tell if I was a criminal or not at that point.

And perhaps he didn't care. For I knew I didn't.

I only wanted Robin to stay alive.

I gazed at the collapsed, quivering crusader and waited.

I waited….till I knew it was a good time.

And I would then go to him.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Titan's City.
1:33 am.
Titan's Tower.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Frost was settling gently outside of Raven's room.

And yet, she tossed and turned with the covers of the bed unraveled like a hot summer afternoon.

Eventually she gave the restlessness up with a groaning sight and stood up.

She ran a hand through her silky blue hair.

She gazed at the floor.

"………."

She stood up.

She shuffled over to her wardrobe.

She put on a long, silver-blue robe.

She tied the sash and fitted on slippers.

With an empty teacup that needed refilling, she walked slowly….lethargically out of her room and into the cold metal hallways beyond…

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Minutes later, Raven descended on the lower levels of the shadowed Tower interior.

Noise was drifting gently inward along with an amber, particle glow.

Contacting sounds…like bone against wet meat.

Raven blinked. Her violet eyes thinned and squinted in the brightening aura as she turned the corner and….

Entered the gym.

"Nnngh!" Th-Thwack! "Haugh!" Wh-Whump! "Nnnnngaugh!" Sm-Smack!

Beast Boy was busily punching, boxing, thrashing the living Hell out of a worn punching bag. He was dressed in his usual trunks from his jumpsuit, except he had replaced the top piece with a white tank top that looked just about as 'Robinesque' as the equipment he was late-night-training with.

"…….," Raven blinked. "What…..are you doing?"

Beast Boy jumped. He turned, fists raised.

Raven's teacup rattled once.

Beast Boy blinked. His face softened and his green eyes rounded. "Oh….R-Raven…eheheheh…," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, I was….uhm……exercising."

"I can see that, but why?"

"I felt like it. Why you walking around in a robe?" he half-smirked and returned to the punching bag, boxing it. Th-Thwump! Th-Thwap!

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're not about to become the first boy to see me walking around in lingerie."

"Heh….poor me," Beast Boy smirked without looking at her. "That's Cyborg's department, right?"

"……," she said nothing. Her eyes were cast aside some. "So…..erhm….you're certainly very……….sweaty."

"Ain't I, though?" Th-Thwump! Thud!

"Beast Boy, just exactly what are you doing?"

"Garfield," he droningly corrected.

"……okay…," she tilted her chin forward. "…Garfield…."

"I never really trained enough. It hurt in the field, ya know? I'd always run out when trying to chase down a common criminal and stuff. It's really depressing."

"Beast B—er, I mean Garfield," she uttered. "You can morph from a mouse to a killer whale in under ten seconds. That takes metabolic dexterity the likes of which we can't even dream about."

"I'm not talking about the 'animal' me," Garfield said. He grunted and punched the bag fiercely. TH-THWACK! It swung, and because of that he grinned. "I'm talking about the ME me." He smirked and showed off a profile while flexing his…….modest biceps. "Gettin' there, eh?"

"…………'eh'," Raven murmured. She sat down on the cushion of a weight lifting seat. Legs crossed. "Keep it up, champ," she droned.

"Figured you'd say something like that," he spoke with boredly thin lips as he proceeded to again assault the bag.

Thap! Wh-Whack! Wham!

"………….," Raven took a deep breath. "So….you decided to change your name after all…."

"Yeah," Garfield muttered between panting strikes. Th-Thud! "Nothing solid yet. Thought I'd get myself solid first, ya know?"

"Uh huh…."

WH-WHAP! He rested against the bag for a moment to gain breath. "I was thinking of…I dunno….Animan…. about you take a breath first?"

He turned and squinted at her. "What about you, Raven? What's up?"

"Nothing…."

"Liar."

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're sitting here, dressed in a robe, and talking to me," Garfield pointed. "Of course something's up."

"……..," Raven sighed and glanced aside. "I can't sleep."

"You and me both….generally speaking, of course," he walked over and dabbed a towel to his green forehead. "….don't mind me, Raven. I'm fitting to be as strong as an ant someday. An ant in proportion to a human being, of course. Get it? If an ant was the size of a person, it could lift a steamroller and—aw forget it."

"So…tell me…," Raven leaned back, resting on her hands with the teacup in her lap. "…when did you start on the steroids?"

"Hardy har har. This is all natural, girl."

She nodded. "Figures. You still look like a scarecrow."

Garfield would have glared at her….but instead he looked dumbfounded.

Because she was giggling. Lightly. Like the snow outside…

He leaned his head to the side. He smirked. "Heh….now, that's cool."

"Hehehehe….ahem….huh?"

"You. Giggling. That's cool."

"……," Raven took a breath and gazed towards the floor. "Yes……it…it feels good…."

"That's cool too. Heh…for a second there, I thought you were going off the deep end."

She—rather quickly—looked up at him and spoke: "Why's that?"

"………," Garfield blinked. "Well…uhm….." He scratched the back of his neck nervously and leaned against the punching bag. "You've been going out on these walks lately and…..haven't been talking to Cyborg much lately and stuff."

"There's nothing to worry about, Garfield."

He looked at her sideways. "Who said I was worried?"

She bit her lip and tried to hide it.

He went on: "You really should pay him a visit, Rae. He's been acting….a little warmer lately. Something tells me it's taken the android a little longer to cope with Robin than the rest of us. Not much blood left in his vessels, ya know. Who can blame him? Anyways….he seems a lot more sure of himself and stuff. The T-Car 2 is almost ready! Can you believe that?"

"With the way Cyborg's been keeping things to himself….," Raven nodded. "Yeah. I can believe anything."

Garfield looked at her sideways. "Dude….you're so full of wyrd, ambiguous comments these days. You're almost worse than Cyborg."

"Yeah, well…--"

"No matter," Garfield flexed his forearms again. "Cyborg's kinda made me rethink things a bit. I should stop thinking about doom and gloom so much and pick up my own hobby. A productive one! Not some…television brain-rotting garbage like days of old. I think I can make a real kung fu master out of myself! Or at least…a John Wayne street brawler."

"An elfin John Wayne….."

"Yes, little misssssy!" Garfield winked.

Raven's lips curved ever so slightly. "Now that….I would like to see."

"Nuts to that…," he walked over. "Look at this."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Uhhh….Garfield? What are you about to—"

"Shhh….don't be so skittish," she knelt before her, lifted a bicep, and flexed his arm. "Watch…."

So she shrugged….and did….

What was once a green, sweaty elfin forearm suddenly developed reptilian skin. Green 'shingles' waved across the epidermis and made the flesh tough as stone. At the same time—quite remarkably—the humanoid nature of the arm remained the same and didn't convert over to a lizard's or crocodile's limb at all.

"Hmmm….," Raven squinted. Staring with interest.

Garfield bit his lip, concentrated and….

The scales shrunk away and formed coarse green fir. The wrist flicked, the hand turned over, and the fingers extended sharp bear claws. But again…it didn't turn into a paw at all.

"Fascinating…."

"Now for the grand finale…," Garfield uttered. His voice was hoarse, indicative of a slight strain.

Raven watched as the boy's left arm stretched out and flexed just right. The fingers closed tightly while the thumb jutted out. The green epidermis turned dry and stiff, and claw-sharp 'teeth' formed along the inner lines of the digits. In the meantime, the right arm loosened into a whiplike structure with suction cups forming at the end of every finger. And yet—in some vague way or another—the two limbs stayed humanoid.

"…..that's a new trick."

"Isn't it, though?" Garfield took a breath and jerked his arms back. They swiftly morphed back to elfin hands, which he flexed and rubbed together. "I'm splicing."

Raven blinked. "Splicing?"

"Mixing animal DNA with my own," Garfield smirked ever so slightly. A soft pride. "It's kind of an augmentation of my normal body's strength without going all the way into animal form or what have you."

Raven leaned her head to the side. "You….You can do that?"

He shrugged. "Apparently. I've been practicing with my eyes too. Ya know…turning them into cat and owl eyes on occasion. I can make myself see better for short periods of time. And then, there are other tricks."

"Like what?"

He turned around with his back facing hers and bent over like he was about to…..deliver something. "Check….this….out!"

SCRPPP! A row of miniature stegosaurus spikes protruded from his back. "Haaa! Yeah! Record breaking time there!"

Raven jolted ever so slightly. "That's…..n-nice…."

"Yup! You bet!" Garfield smiled proudly. "Ahem…excuse me." He concentrated. Strained. SLNNKK! The blades shrunk back in….but a string of holes were left over in his shirt and shorts from the protruding dinosaur anatomy. "Dah! Dammit!" He spun around and pointed his back away from Raven, blushing. "S-Sorry…."

"Hehehehe…..," Raven shook. She leaned her head to the side and smiled ever so slightly. "Thanks, Garfield…."

"Erm….," he walked backwards till he was where he left his towel. He wrapped the article around his waist to hide the hole in the back of his trunks. "F-For what?"

"I guess just talking to you is what I needed," Raven murmured. Gazing off. "Thanks for that…."

"……….," the green elf blinked. "Wow….."

She looked at him. "What?"

"Just…..Wow."

"What Wow?"

"Pfft! You know."

"…….y-yeah…..I guess I do."

Silence.

Some discomfort.

A breath and a sigh.

It was Garfield: "I'll go to bed soon. Lord knows how long I can really do this."

Raven shrugged. "Whatever keeps you busy."

"Is that what really, truly matters?"

She looked up. "Hmm?"

"Being busy…," he gazed off as he spoke. "…there hasn't been enough going on in this City of ours for me to train to. Sometimes I wonder if all the criminals hung out here just cuz of Robin. People in the Bat Troupe do tend to attract bad guys wherever they go."

"Yeah….."

"This team will need somebody with good martial arts, ya know."

"I'm not too terrible myself, actually," Raven said.

Garfield smirked at her. "Is that a boast?"

"Eh…."

He raised a fist and winked. "Wanna spar right now?"

"No thank you…."

"Not when it's so late at night?"

"No, not when I'm wearing a robe."

"Oh….r-right….," he blushed and adjusted the towel around his trunks. "I guess….I'm overdoing it. Robin always overdid it. At least, he had an excuse and all."

"What do you mean, Garfield?"

"He didn't really have any superpowers. Ya know. That whole schtick all over again. Gotta suck when your elemental power is hair gel."

"I think we all underestimated Robin no matter how many times we denied it."

"True…true…," he nodded. "…and I know I could never take his place….but………." He lingered.

"What, Garfield?"

He began boxing with the punching bag again. Th-Thwap! "I want to sorta continue where he left off. He was like a brother to me, ya know? We didn't get along quite as well as Cyborg and I. But we didn't fight much either. And all the while, he was a real inspiration to me." Th-Thwack! Whap! "I'd like to make him proud. If even only in memory. I'll build myself up….I'll kick ass for a change….and become a better hero all around! Heh….if only Terra could see me now."

Raven bit her lip. She closed her eyes. She sighed. Something escaped from her mouth, and it said: "I don't think you need to worry about Terra, Garfield…."

He paused again in boxing, wiped his brow, and looked at her. "H-Huh?"

"…………….," she stared at him.

He gazed curiously at her. Calmly. Unexpecting…. "What do you mean, Raven?"

Silence. She stood up. "What I mean is….." Hesitancy. She sighed. "…….Terra liked you for who you were. And I think we all know that. You never needed to grow any muscles to impress her."

"…………..," he smiled. "Yeah….heh…guess I can admit that. Thanks, Raven."

"Don't thank me….," she droned and walked towards the exit of the gym with her teacup.

"Hey, if you're going upstairs…I left my Space Ghost collection in the DVD player. Go on and watch some. It might help you go to sleep….heh…."

"Thanks, Garfield…"

"No problem," he smirked and approached the punching bag again. But before he could raise a green fist--

"Changeling."

He froze.

"H-Huh?"

"'Changeling'," she uttered as she left the large interior. "That's a new name for you."

"Kinda boring, don't you think?"

"Hardly," she shook her head and then was gone. "Because you're changing….Garfield."

"……….," he stood. Staring off. "……'Changeliiiiiin'……" A pause. He chuckled, shrugged, and whalloped the punching back.

THW-THWACK!

T-T-T-T-T-T-

Raven turned a corner.

She paused.

She nearly dropped the teacup.

She hugged herself.

A long, winded sigh.

Concave eyes.

"………"

She brushed a loose strand away from over her brow….and walked further down the hallway towards the stairs.

Trailing darkness.

And cold.

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Gotham City.
1:40 am
Hospital Rooftop.

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-

I stood silently.

Gazing at……him.

The sky was releasing a thin drift of whiteness.

Breaking the red.

Littering the edges of the rooftop and melting away in softness.

I felt surrounded.

Surrounded in you, Ana.

I drifted forward.

And as I did so, I could see that he was sitting up straight.

Slowly…heavily breathing.

His neck and spikey-black head of hair bent over.

Somewhat hunched…

There was a paleness to his cape all of the sudden. Like some wilted towel exhausted from a day-long playtime. His costume suddenly seemed like something stitched together with inhuman means. A thready, unraveling illusion. Like the cold, dusty nastiness of the moon's surface up close. I felt I knew it, and yet there was a side I hadn't seen. A part that hid in darkness when the twirling acrobat absorbed the light and took to the rooftops.

And as I stood over him, patient. Silent…

I could see that his eyemask rested wrinkled, ragged in his gloved grasp. And the mask looked big when it was off of him. Like it was one size too large for his hands. Small hands. Small hands that must have been better fit for gripping bicycle handles or holding a dog leash or pitching a baseball than beating up criminals.

A breath escaped him. With shivering, visible vapors that danced in the air. His voice was thin…whispery…and higher than I ever imagined it before. Like a baby bird erupting out of the muffled resonator of an egg shell.

"………," he took a long, vexing breath.

I stood still. My black hair tossed in an icy wind.

He shuddered.

I didn't.

There was a softening.

A melting shoulders.

He pivoted…turned around…and gazed up at me.

The wettest blue eyes I've ever seen on an organism. And by then, they were dry.

Still, Tim Drake sniffed and bit his lip before averting those sacred sapphires and uttering in a voice I only half heard before then: "I've never run away from a-anything in my life before, Noir…..," he clenched his jaw before managing: "….I've limped."

"…….."

He shuddered. Hugging himself in the cold currents. Dark hair shadowed his blue orbs for a moment so that they were like two mirrors to a red sky momentarily. "I never ran away from Annie. I'm sure she knew that. She knew that….b-before she died….as she died. I was there with her….for her……"

"…….."

"Could there be bravery in that?" Tim asked the air more than me. "What have I been abandoning all these years?"

I took a deep breath. I gazed aside. I didn't know any answers to his questions. Besides, he wasn't asking me.

He knew….

He knew………

More than I ever could.

"I've been killing myself," he murmured. A sniff. A forearm rubbing his eyes…moistening. "I-I've been k-killing myself, Noir. It h-hasn't been Viper…or Dagger….or Deathstroke. It's been me the whole time. Slade….Slade is only an extension of what I….what I always wanted to be….." He closed those sapphires and shuddered, tilting his head back. "Slade is perfection. He is an ideal. He is……death."

Silence.

His eyes opened. And when they did so, there was a seashore fierceness transforming through them. Something that I felt—instantly—would make Hull run for the money. Would rip apart the Joker in a second. I nearly fell down flat on my face there from the sight of that aquamarine furnace.

Why….Why in the Hell did Robin need a mask?

"But I…am….not…….death…..," he hissed. His fists clenched and crinkled the eyemask even more. "I am life….so heaven h-help me…." His face contorted. He raised a forearm and literally bit down on it as if to choke back a sudden sob. But that sob turned into a furious snarl. "…..I will n-not become Slade. By his hand or mine…..I won't. I won't. I'm weak….so very weak. But I am not….evil."

"………"

He tilted his head up. He looked directly at me. And his lips quivered: "How do you do it, Jordan?"

"…………?"

"How do you do it? How do you……..live life so perfectly detached from yourself or your past? You don't even have a mask….."

I took a deep breath.

Oh Tim……

I do have a mask.

I was given it permanently years ago………don't you see?

I reached a black hand down. I gripped his shoulder. Rather forcefully, I yanked Tim up to his feet.

He gasped a little. And I knew then and there that Robin was gone.

But not obliterated…

Robin lingered somewhere inside this strange, petite boy standing before me. Somewhere inside this stranger I had often wondered about, but now could stare at. And linger in awe….

But instead, I forced him to look at me directly.

And I hand-signed: 'I learn from people. Especially my leaders.'

His jaw was dropped. He slowly shook his head. Incredulous. "What….What could you possibly learn from a weakling like me?"

I took a deep breath. I mouthed: 'How to be resurrected. The REAL you……'

"…….," he tightened his jaw and inhaled sharply. The moistness lingering around his eyes finally dried to oblivion and something shot down his arms, tightening in his fists.

I raised a flesh hand. I grabbed his palm. I squeezed it up high between us, released, and slapped our grips together before crushing his fingers.

He crushed mine back.

A shared breath.

The Titan grip.

We released with a loud snap and punched each other in the shoulder.

Tim uttered in a darker voice that felt more like home. "Deathstroke won't have any of the other Titans. Not if I can help it….not if WE can help it."

I smiled.

He smiled. A soft breath. So human. So….emotional.

Hello, brave new world.

"We need to meet with Batman," Tim said firmly. He fingered his mask, smoothing it in his gloved hands. "Knowing Bruce, he won't sit still for long. Nightwing? I don't know. But there's no time to lose. We need to figure out what Deathstroke is planning next." He placed the eyemask back on. The blue orbs disappeared. Robin stood before me. "Together. Meaning….I'm going with you."

I nodded.

Now we're talking!

A breathy gasp to the side.

"?" Robin and I looked over.

I blinked my shaded eyes.

Robin marched forward: "Joey?"

We both approached the young blonde.

He was crying, gripping his head. Straining….as with a terrible headache.

I knelt down and placed my hands on his shoulders, a concerned expression washing over my face.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked, leaning over.

Jericho looked up, his green eyes pained. He sniffed and hand-signed: 'It came to me after you and Noir fought. I cannot believe I overlooked it before.'

"What are you talking about?"

Jericho clenched his blonde head, hissed, and shuddered. He hesitantly hand-signed: 'There was more to Two-Face's head then I thought. Yes, Deathstroke is dangerous. But Triangular still is not dead.'

I shivered.

Robin's eyemask thinned. "Triangular? How?"

The boy hand-signed: 'The fight in the vault……when we ambushed Two-Face and the muddy goons……'

"Yeah? What about it?"

'They were not the ones being ambushed. We were.'

"…….."

"…….."

"…….the hell?"