DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SURRENDER
For all the times he had been wounded there was one thing he knew with certainty: when the pain stops, you're dead.
And Robin didn't hurt anymore.
It had been several minutes since he'd been, in essence, crucified in the center of the machine. And in that time he had lost all sensation in his legs and even the burning of his muscles in his suspended arms had receded to be replaced by a numbing warmth that spread through the parts of his body he could feel.
It had been two days since he had anything to drink and even longer since he had eaten. The blood loss, external and he didn't doubt internally, wasn't helping. He was weary, his body running on reserves it didn't have. The darkness was creeping in at the edge of his vision and he wanted nothing more than to let it take him. He was tired; tired of fighting.
And still he couldn't bring himself to give up.
Through heavy, lidded eyes he watched the last of the g-gnomes as it skittered across the floor and toward the rest that stood behind Dubbilex. Robin's gut burned at the betrayal of the creature and he couldn't help but wish he had heat vision like Superman so he could burn the genetically engineered freak show into ash.
Guardian stood next to Sportsmaster, the two men hovering over computer console with bend heads. The mercenary still wore his face mask, but Guardian had removed his helmet. As if feeling his captive's gaze on him, the young man looked up briefly before going back to his work.
Robin opened his eyes and stared. Young man…
A trace of his trademark smirk found its way onto his lips.
"You're human, right?"
His damaged throat protested the words but they echoed softly in the quiet, drawing attention his way.
"What?" Sportsmaster snarled with narrowed eyes beneath his mask.
Robin ignored the mercenary and focused on the former hero. "Guardian, you're human right? When were you born?"
"Irrelevant," the man brushed the query aside, but the curiosity was there on his face.
"It's a simple question. When were you born?"
Guardian sighed, walked away from the computer and toward Robin. "Must I gag you to keep you silent? This is delicate work and you would not enjoy the results should we make a mistake."
"I'm dead either way," Robin frowned grimly, and by the expression on Guardian's face the other man knew the truth of that statement. "Humor me."
"Very well, I was born in 1906."
"Damn," he murmured, feigning amazement. "When did you join the Metropolis PD?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You are Jim Harper, right? You were a cop in Metropolis before you took up the Superhero gig." Robin was enjoying the stunned look on the other man's face. "I've studied all the old-timer's files. You were never part of the JL, but you did good work in your day."
"Old-timer?"
"You're human, right, and born in 1906?"
"Yes, but-"
"And Guardian first showed up in early '41, so you were mid thirties then and had probably a decade as a beat cop so you joined the force around 1928-"
"-1927, but-"
"-right, about 21? You get married?"
"No, but-"
"You were legal guardian to a bunch a kids though. Five I think?"
"Four, but-"
"Did they ever figure it out about you moonlighting as a Vigilante?"
"No, but-"
"They had to have suspected, considering you did the job for a couple of decades. When did you die?"
"1969."
Before Robin could say anything, the air was viciously expelled from his lungs with Sportsmaster's punch to the stomach. His legs pulled against the needles impaling them, tearing his flesh further and reigniting the pain throughout his body. Even so he wore a smug smirk at Guardian's stunned expression.
"You're surrounded by little genetically engineered monsters," Robin wheezed in satisfaction. "Did you honestly think Superboy was Cadmus' first run at cloning?"
"You're done, boy," Sportsmaster was growling as the mercenary silenced Robin with a thick leather belt over his mouth. It was tightened painfully, cutting the inside of his lips against his teeth. Dick tasted blood and he glared at the masked man. Guardian patted the boy's cheek condescendingly. "Be thankful I don't just cut out your tongue."
Robin's chin fell to his chest and he closed his eyes. He heard Sportsmaster drag the still shocked Guardian back toward the computer and order him back to work, but he didn't care. It was a small victory, a petty one when he thought about, but he could only hope that the clone of the former hero would remember who he was created from and stop whatever the creepy Light guys had planned.
A few seconds later, the machinery around Robin began to hum and Guardian's voice shakily announced "Genetic markers inputted and temporal tracking engaged."
The last of Robin's hope faded.
"You wonder why we picked you?"
Dull blue eyes opened and stared at Sportsmaster who stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest in satisfaction.
"What was about Robin that made us hunt you, watch you, learn all about Richard Grayson? Of all the junior capes, brats that have no business going up again people like me, why did it have to be you? You weren't even the first, did you know that? Other heroes have had their little side-kicks over the years, but most everyone forgets about them after a year or two. Why? Because they were useless, pointless, and when they died or grew up no one cared anymore."
A pale purple light flickered across Sportsmaster's mask and Robin felt a whisper of wind at his back that hadn't been there a moment before.
"Temporal tracking at sixteen percent," Guardian's voice called.
"You got the Bat's attention," Sportsmaster continued. "It could be argued that he saw himself in you. You both witnessed your parents murdered. You were both left orphaned. You were both denied justice, so you sought your vengeance."
Dick weakly shook his head. It wasn't vengeance…
"Still, you shouldn't have been so pivotal, neither of you. Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, you both should have gone back into the background. But you didn't. You wouldn't. And that's what changed everything. You are nothing special – not meta-human, no special powers to justify what you do. You're just a kid and still you're out there facing off against guys like, and worse than, me. I got to admit, kid, I admire that"
The light was brighter now, the glow visible in his peripheral vision and not just reflected off Sportsmaster. The wind was stronger now, causing his hair to flip around his face.
"Temporal tracking at forty-eight percent."
"Even so, you're a pain in the ass." Sportsmaster chuckled. "You brought all these other wannabes out of the wood work and now my employers have to think about keeping a bunch of kids in line and not just the capes."
This was about controlling the Heroes? How-?
Seeing the question in his eyes, Sportsmaster answered. "I'm working for the good guys, this time. At least they like to think so. They want to control the heroes, save the world from people like Joker and Luther, by allowing the heroes to do what is necessary. They seem to think if they take you out of the equation, stop you before you become Robin – stop you before you brought back Batman's humanity – then none of the others would take on their sidekicks, and then the capes would be willing to stop the big-bads permanently instead of their current humanitarian methods."
Before… oh god! The last pieces fell into place. They're opening a temporal worm hole! They're creating a time portal!
"Temporal tracking at seventy-two percent."
Robin shook his head, trying to pry his mouth open to warn them but the leather kept his lips pressed against his teeth. He shouted against the gag.
"You got something to say?" Sportsmaster laughed. "Too bad, bird boy. Getting too close to you now could mess things up – or so they tell me."
With a glare worthy of Batman, Robin looked passed Sportsmaster and toward Dubbilex. Tell them! Tell them it won't work!
The telepath's horns glowed as the connection was made. **Perhaps it will.**
No, Robin growled in his head, aware that Sportsmaster and Guardian were cognitive of the telepathic conversation. Not how they want! Even if by some miracle the wormhole is stable, whoever goes back won't change anything now! They'd create another timeline and this one will keep going on its current path! You can't change the past! Only create another future!"
"Temporal tracking at eighty percent."
Sportsmaster and the rest suddenly staggered as the ground began to shake. Robin inhaled sharply through his nose at the pain that came with the quaking. The air around him became heavy and the wind stilled, though the light caused the mercenary to turn away.
Dubbilex moved quickly to another computer and monitor. "The portal integrity is at ninety-three percent and dropping; attempting to stabilize."
"Temporal tracking at eighty-eight percent."
Broken images flashed across Dick's vision. Something inside him broke and he screamed his agony beneath the leather gag.
"Shut it down!" Sportsmaster shouted after he was thrown to the ground when the shaking intensified.
Nostrils' flaring with each panicked breath, Robin was aware of an explosion of sparks through the mass of overlaying images. He was seeing things, hallucinating – the only explanation why he was seeing the circus, his childhood home, the same time he was watching his parents fall to their death, all while seeing Wayne Manor rising up in the windshield of the town car he was riding – he screamed again and threw his head back trying to get away from the images.
"Power circuits have fused open, I can't shut it down!" Guardian's voice was frantic. "Tracking at ninety-three percent!"
"Portal integrity dropping to sixty percent!"
"Tracking at ninety-five percent! Get that portal stable before we tear the timeline apart! Ninety-seven!"
Kill me! Robin screamed mentally at the head g-gnome. Kill me and it stops!
"Integrity down to fifty-one percent!" Dubbilex cried over the sound of metal twisting and the roar of the earthquake. "Kill the boy!"
"Ninety-eight!"
Sportsmaster moved like lightning, leaping to his feet as he drew his hunter's blade from his belt. With a casual flip he took the tip of the knife between his fingertips.
"Ninety-nine!"
Robin felt his chest seize as his heart stuttered, his lungs burning as he could no longer breath through the pain and atmosphere pressing in around him. His eyes fell to Sportsmaster and he watched, begging for death, as the man pulled his arm back and flung the blade toward him.
And the world exploded in a blinding purple light.