Summary: Thirty seconds. A lot can happen in thirty seconds. (Or, the final moves are made in this particular game of chess. Who will be the victor?)
Longer summary: Everyone has a call of duty, be it medical (Leslie), saving hostages (SWAT), the foyer (Titans), ending the seige (GCPD), saving Dick (the Batfam), or just simply surviving (Dick and Eddington)... That duty is coming up against the vengeful plan enacted by Smokes and the cartels. Which one will win?
Notes: cw for blood and injury in this chapter, if you have a thing about that. About the same level as previous chapters (or canon tbh), so, eh, judge for yourselves.
- This chapter is so very late (10yrs late lets be honest) that its ridiculous. I have been stuck on this chapter for literally years. (Maybe a decade?) (Apparently I can't write action scenes. Self, take note before you write yourself into a corner again.) Funnily enough, it took prompting from comments and then brainstorming this with a good friend (thanks DayGloMenance, you know who you are) for me to work through the block on this.
- Also, horribly unbetaed, because i wanted to get this thing done and posted and over. All mistakes are mine. This chapter is... not complete, but it's as complete as it's ever going to be. And I figure at this point, my readers might as well get the benefit of it instead of me getting frustrated staring at it.
All that to say, don't be afraid to comment on old fics, folks. You never know what you might get. :)
Quick Summary of elements in play, since its (coughcough) been a while:
in the generator room
- eddington (quasi-good bad guy) just got shot, or at least, is out for the count
- smokes (definite bad guy) who shot eddington, has gun
- dick, unarmed, injured (so very injured)
- one disarmed bomb stuck at 7sec
foyer
- whatevers happening in the foyer, with Roy and Donna just finding a "surprise," which Troia then said she could handle while she told Arsenal to go help Dick
elsewhere
- swat team outside thinking of going in but distracted by release of hostages from foyer
- oracle watching everything (of course) but limited mostly to cameras
- cavalary, aka batfam, at least thirty seconds out from Dick (because that's their call of duty to come to their family's aid), consisting of leslie, tim, cass (batgirl), batman
Okay. Got everything?
Let's gooooo.
CALL OF DUTY
Obstacle Course
12. Checkmate
My heart in my throat, I whirled around as best I could. Adrenaline once again flowed, sharpening my vision and easing my aches, so that I could see... the barrel of the gun aimed not at me, but at Eddington.
I didn't think. I just acted. (Turned out I did have more adrenaline left in me.)
I lunged for him, praying I'd be in time.
Generator Room
They say that you never hear the shot that kills you.
They also say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
People say a lot of things.
Not all of it was true.
#
What happened was this.
The thing about guns was that your reaction depended on a lot of things.
Proximity, for one. A gunshot going off right in your ear was a lot different to one going off a few streets over, and not just because the first one was more likely to deafen and the other was more likely to see me leaping off a nearby rooftop. Especially if I was in my nighttime uniform.
Exposure, for another. I'd heard lots of guns going off in my life, so I was less likely to react than, say...an academic. (Even an academic with high recent exposure.) Okay, okay, less likely to react poorly. Because I was still going to react.
Reflexes, on that note. I'd been trained to react, react quickly, and save as many people as I could while I was at it. In my line of work, that split second it took to make that judgment call was sometimes all the time you had.
Training. Most days, especially on the beat, I was using some kind of an unholy mishmash of Bat-vigilante-acrobat-police-training melded with civilian instincts (if I could even be called a civilian). Most days it worked. And sometimes it didn't. Those were the bad days, the ones I never told anyone about.
Armor. Now, that's the real killer.
Taking a bullet to the vest knocked you to the ground like nothing else, would leave you with a ton of bruises, but was hella survivable. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd been shot at already on the Force, and had survived purely thanks to my vest. (Those were also days that I tried not to tell people about.)
Taking a bullet without a vest...was the stuff of cop's nightmares. (And vigilante's nightmares. There were reasons why we Bats wear so much Kevlar.) Mostly because while you could take a shot with a vest and it might knock you down, you knew you were eventually going to be okay to get up and keep fighting the good fight.
Taking one without armor didn't work like that. At all. Taking one without armor, especially to the torso, well, the body had a marvelous adrenaline system for some very good reasons. You could ignore it for a while, maybe get done what you needed to, before you went down and stayed down.
After all, there weren't many places that you could be shot in the torso and survive without harm.
Which was why when Eddington went straight down after Smokes fired, I thought, Armor, close proximity, big bruise but likely to live, and thought no more about it.
Even though I dived after the twit by instinct, it would've been nice to know in advance that he'd had body armor on. You know, before he'd been shot at and I'd done the usual heroic thing and did the dive to save his life. Which might not have needed saving after all. (If I'd known, I'd gone in the other direction. Towards the gunman and not away.)
Especially since said dive brought me to the attention of the gunman.
Smokes.
Not one of my brighter ideas, but then, today hadn't been one of my better days. (Actually, it wasn't one of my better months.)
Because of course, said dive finished with me on my back, my short-lived burst of adrenaline over, and I was staring down the barrel of a gun.
Again.
And being civilian and injured, no body armor to speak of, my options just went down to hovering a little above zero. Lovely. Today was the day that just kept on giving, in all sorts of ways.
Speaking of which…
I saw in my peripheral vision what looked like the door to the room ease open, and forced myself to not to look in that direction. (Because let's be honest here, my vision wasn't the best right now, and even if I did look, there was no guarantee I'd see anything helpful anyway.)
Finally, the cavalry was coming. (At least I hoped it was the cavalry. The enemy wouldn't be launching a sneak attack, would they?)
At least something today had (maybe) gone right.
Even better, the hospital was maintaining its doors and it wasn't squeaking.
Instead of looking and (possibly) giving everything away, I glared at Smokes. It was, to be honest, far preferable to the barrel in front of my nose. Also, I knew I needed to keep the idiot talking to keep his focus on me and not on a (probable) rescue. Right. This is going to be fun on all sorts of levels, I can just tell. "Is that supposed to impress me?"
His lips twitched. "Yeah. Not doin' it for ya?"
"Not so much. Do you know how many times I get something pointed at me on an average day?" Let's put it this way. It was a good day if I only got called out a few hundred times in a city like Bludhaven. And the number of times those call-outs became, uh, interesting? Well, let's just say that this city earned its reputation. Not to mention the absolute disaster some of my nights could be.
Smokes looked at me down the barrel, probably trying for some gangster move – and falling a little short. Up this close, I could see that his eyes were a little cross-eyed. It was all sorts of distracting. "Would it help if I upped the ante?"
No. I swallowed down the fear and made myself stare back and stay calm. Keep him talking, Grayson. "What kind of ante are we talking about here? I'd like to know in advance before I agree."
He grinned at me. "I like you. You're funny."
"Thanks." I think. "I'm just saying. If you're going to up the stakes, I want a bigger reward. That's only fair."
The grin widened. It wasn't a nice smile. "Well then. How's this for ante? You surrender, and I let the rest of the hospital go."
I— Wait wait wait. What? My mouth ran dry. "I want details or I'm agreeing to nothing."
"This bomb...how you say...imitar, no, uh, fake. We fake this, real one below." He nudged Eddington with his boot. "Just as well, as this one turn traidor."
Fake. It was fake all along…
And there was another bomb…
Of course. Of course there. Was. Another. Bomb.
I couldn't recall Eddington saying that he'd been able to get access to it, to sabotage it, or that he even knew about it.
This… This was going to be bad.
Interlude
Foyer III
Troia cursed to herself at she worked on the "surprise" she'd found tucked into the corner of the foyer.
Bomb defusing was not her strong suit. That was more Arsenal's gig than hers. But she'd seen how much he'd been itching to go help Dick, and she couldn't stand in the way of that.
Even if this was rapidly getting out of her skillset.
Well.
If she couldn't defuse it… she'd just have to try and move it.
There was no way she was letting it detonate inside a hospital.
Not on her watch.
Generator Room
Think, Grayson, think! How could I use this to my advantage? I licked my lips. There was always trying to flip the situation… but I wasn't that sure I could pull it off. I looked over at the timer, still stuck on 7 seconds, and wondered to myself if I really wanted to play that particular bluff out. And then wondered if I ever had a choice.
I hadn't come into this hospital planning to surrender to the cartels. But then, I also really wanted to save the hospital (all the hostages) from the second bomb. Put against those kind of stakes… my life was nothing.
Honestly. I wasn't worth all… this.
In that light, the decision was easy.
It was probably the easiest decision I'd ever made.
"Alright then. You got a deal." I raised my hands and swallowed. "But… I'd like proof the other bomb is disarmed before I go with you."
Smokes smirked like he'd heard a good joke. And maybe he had. "You would, would you?"
Because here I was, bargaining with a non-existent hand, and doing it anyway. I firmed my shoulders and broadened my stance. "Yeah."
Smokes grinned at me, showing off his discolored teeth. "They said you'd need a little persuasion."
I had just a moment to wonder who "they" were, and what persuasion he meant, when he shifted his gun and fired.
My world whited out and I could feel myself collapse. At least the darkness swallowed me up before I hit the floor.
Interlude
Tim I
Tim jumped despite himself when gunshot rang out. Again.
He'd been trying to get himself into a better position, knowing that he'd need to make his attack count with his limited supply of energy… but. Yeah.
He hadn't expected this.
He thought he'd had more time.
He'd thought they all did.
[insert relevant action scene]
[no, I'm serious. I hate writng action, and this is the scene that's stopped me posting, so... i figured I'd post and at very least include my notes on how it should go.]
[somehow or other the batfam captures Smokes and donna gets rid of the bomb] [do i know how? No i do not. Am i going to write it? No I am not. I've also finally decided I'm not going to stress about it, considering I've been stuck on this for years. (almost a decade?) Someone else better than me can take a stab at this if they want.]
[here's what i do know:
- Smokes uses Dick's body as a shield.
- Cass joins Tim, followed shortly by Arsenal
- they somehow end up on the roof
- snipers!
- batman v snipers mark 2!
- bats wins! as he should lol
- everyone comes home safe, except for Smokes ofc. (he's prob dead) (is Dick dead too? Idk honestly i do not)
[and that ends the action scene]
[so the scene ends with family diving to save Dick... and them not sure if he's dead or alive] :D
[and then we go on to my regularly scheduled angsty whumpy followup :) this, i have actually written]
[bc ofc i wasnt going to leave it there] :D
. . .
"Dick?"
"Dick!"
#
Awareness came slowly.
Like water trickling out of a dam.
Smell. Sharp. Stinging.
Touch. Texture. Cool.
Pain.
Pain.
Wetness. On my cheeks.
Sight. Nothing. Darkness. Because... my eyes were closed.
I opened my eyes to see the blurry form of Leslie leaning over me.
More wetness. It was trickling into my ears.
Because Leslie's crying. She's crying... over me?
"—d Dick, why'd you have to do it this way?"
I stared up at her, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Leslie never cried. Not over me.
Never me.
Unless... unless someone was hurt and she couldn't save them.
Panic gripped my chest and woke me the hell of the rest of the way up. I'd failed to save everyone. I'd failed.
I opened my mouth to speak but my tongue was thick in my mouth. It took a few swallows to get enough saliva to speak, and even then my voice was weak and hoarse. "...'s ev'ry one...m'kay?"
Leslie reached out and cupped my cheek. "Yes," she replied softly, he voice breaking. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes Dick, everyone made it. Just... hang on for me, okay? Can you do that?"
I nodded, or tried to. My body didn't seem to want to listen to me.
I dimly felt a hand work its way into mine. Dragging my gaze over felt like it took all my strength, like my eyes weighed a ton each. But I managed to see something that looked vaguely like my little brother.
Thank goodness. I'd been so worried... "Tim . . . ?" I asked breathily. My voice was failing me, obviously.
The grip on my hand tightened momentarily. "It's me, bro. I'm here. Just hang on, okay?"
Yeah.
I was doing my best, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I couldn't feel my body shutting down. The feeling was distinctive.
I swallowed.
There was...something... something else I ask. "Eddington? Th' bomb?"
"He's...safe. It's okay, Dick."
"Good," I mumbled, and let my eyes drift shut. Everyone was safe. Tim had made it. I could let go now...
Safe . . .
The grip on my hand squeezed, to the point of pain, pain I could feel. "Hang on, bro. Just...hang on, okay?"
I nodded, or tried to.
Nothing quite seemed to work.
But that was okay. I hadn't failed.
I'd saved everyone.
It was okay.
I could let go...
...
. . .
#
"Dick?"
"Dick!"
"Dick!"