AN: WAHOO! I managed to get this posted before I left town! YAY! I don't suck at time management as much as I usually do!
Robin twisted viciously and landed a hard swinging kick across Slade's ribs, sending the man flying down across the rooftop. Both men were somewhat surprised at the loud crunch that followed impact, but Robin's body didn't give in to the hesitation that his brain resonated so clearly. That was merely a left-over sentiment from a living world, a time and place where such attacks stopped or severely injured their victims. No such luxury existed in a dead world. Robin pulled a knife from his belt lunging forward and freezing mere inches from Slade's temporal.
"Dead and out," Robin said plainly, not an ounce of celebration of arrogance in his victory.
"Well done," Slade wheezed, clutching his ribs and nearly beaming with the pride the hero didn't allow himself.
Robin stood tall, staring down his nose at the man for a mere fraction of a second before he turned away. "I'm ready to go again when you are," he said very plainly once he'd travel some distance away before taking a defensive stance.
"Give me some time to recuperate," the man waved the teen off and laid flat against the rooftop. "I might heal faster than a human, but the pain is every bit the same."
"Never seemed to stop you before," Robin scoffed, placing his hands on his hips and looking almost affronted at the man's willingness to call a time out. He didn't recall being offered such amenity… then again, Slade had never broken any of his bones, but that hardly seemed the point.
"It's our last day on this rooftop," Slade sighed. "Let's not waste the opportunity to really enjoy our suffering while we can afford to do so."
"Ah, perhaps if you'd landed a decent hit on me, I could join you," Robin tried to balance his sneer with a joking tone, but Slade's brow quirked mercilessly.
"Well, Boy Wonder, had I known before our spar that you wanted to lay in agony, I'd have obliged. I suppose it's not too late, if you'd like me to crack a few of your ribs."
"Another round, then?"
"You're awfully spunky," Slade folded an arm behind his back and looked the teen over. "Go ahead and attack if you really want the pain – You know I've been holding back for your sake."
"Oh, my hero," he rolled his eyes and turned his attention toward the surrounding buildings.
"Always have been. Couldn't kick your ass too badly or I'd risk damaging your brain."
"What an eloquent way to call me a butt-head," Robin cast the man a luke-warm glare. "You are the pinnacle of cunning."
"I'm surprised your head wasn't too far up your ass to get that one, honestly," Slade smirked closed his eye.
Robin was silent for a moment, surveying his city and the swarming dead below before he turned back to the villain. "I honestly can't tell if we're fighting. Are we fighting?"
"I wasn't really sure, either," Slade answered thoughtfully. "I figured I would wait until you either laughed or threw a punch."
"And if I did both?"
Slade shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips as his eye closed and he appeared to relax.
Robin gave a small huff through his nose and peered over the side of their building, frowning at what he saw below. "I think they know we're up here."
"The swarm has been getting bigger since day one."
"They can't usually see us. I suppose they can hear us sometimes. I'd never stayed in one place for more than an hour or so before all this, but it seems strange that they're sticking around. Do you think that they can remember?"
Slade's eye opened slowly. "They seem to respond to basic stimuli only. Sight, sound, smell… If anything, it's probably just a chain reaction from the group that was chasing me. The herd was making enough noise that's it attracted others. And it kept growing from there. They do tend stay in collective groups."
"Yeah, that's what Paul always thought," Robin said offhandedly, his attention focused below.
"Paul?"
"Hmm? Oh, the pediatrics guy. Green shirt."
"Ah," Slade acknowledged, deciding to remain silent on the way Robin referred to the man. Green shirt – as in the corpse in his basement with the green shirt. The one that had been huddled under the table when Robin delivered his final blow.
It was almost strange to hear the teen talk about it so nonchalantly. The man wasn't quite sure if it was a sign of the acceptance of his actions, or a form of subtle denial. Slade moved through the catalog in his head, trying to remember how he categorized the people he'd killed… he supposed he didn't really call them by their method of death, either, but that was only because he killed so many in the same way. Bullet though the head, slice the throat with a short-blade, simple decapitation… Slade looked thoughtful for a moment, but turned his attention back to the teen. Perhaps the hero's time on the rooftop had given him the opportunity to fully accept what had occurred, to dwell and process on his decisions. Perhaps he'd finally been able to move on…
"Oh," Robin pointed over the side of the building as he turned to Slade with a tiny bit of mirth in his tone. "There's your sword, again."
A/N: What's that? Robin's moving forward? Okay, I guess it's time for the plot to do that, too. Perhaps next week they can get off the rooftop. We'll see how that goes...