Robin blocked Sid the Squid's fist and spun, using his attacker's momentum to the would-be gangster into a stack of crates. As Sid crashed into the pile with a grunt, two more goons advanced on him.
Robin didn't wait for them to close in. In a flash, a flurry of bat-a-rangs flew from his fingers, dropping them with pained yelps. They would likely only be down temporarily, but it would be long enough to get a better grasp on the situation. He turned, fists clenched, and faced an approaching duo of club-wielding thugs. How had things gone so wrong so fast?
Mere minutes ago, he and Batgirl had been shadowing a gang with hopes of gaining insight into the Society of Shadows' movements. But information from the Bat had left them woefully unprepared for the level of organization the group displayed. And then it came. The paranormal entity only known as Karkull came through that blasted portal and his eyes instantly uncovered their espionage. After gracelessly hurling them to the ground with an otherworldly force, Karkull left the scene through that same portal – and even in his absence, the stench of him lingered in the air: the ozone. The rot. Mannheim followed after the creature, instructing the few he left behind to clean up their mess.
And Bruno's clean-up meant execution.
Robin sprang forward, catching both off-guard. He flattened the right foe with a swift left hook and his foot shot out behind him, catching the other in the shoulder. The man stumbled back and into a stack of wooden pallets. As he attempted to get to his feet, he was pushed aside by one of the first thugs. The man raised a truncheon above his head but before he could bring it down, Robin's fist crashed into his solar plexus. The man doubled over and the hero rocketed his knee into the man's nose. The thug's head snapped up as his nose fractured, and Robin threw a hammer fist across his cheek. The man spun on his way to the ground.
A gunshot from the left ricocheted harmlessly off the concrete floor. The shooter adjusted his aim, still reeling from Robin's nasty left hook. Even so, Robin wasn't keen on giving the man a second chance. He jumped into the air and threw a bola at the shooter. The weighted cable wrapped around his ankles and worked its way up his legs, pinning them together. Before the thug knew it, he was falling. Robin drove a boot into the man's shoulder and heard a sickening pop.
Dislocated. Robin landed on the ground with cat-like grace, cape draped over his shoulders, as the disarmed man spewed profanity.
"Hey, freak!" One of the gang members he'd taken down with the taser bat-a-rang volley approached on uncertain footing. "You thought I was out, didja?"
"I was hoping, yes," Robin dryly replied.
The recovering criminal threw a wild right jab which Robin barely blocked and caught. He twisted the man's arm, eliciting a yelp of pain. The thug's knee met Robin's side and as he winced with the hit, his thoughts drifted to Batgirl. I wonder how Kimber's doing.
A gunshot echoed through the warehouse. Both Robin and his adversary instinctively flinched in the direction of the sound. On the floor across the warehouse Batgirl lay on her side in a crumpled heap, her cape pooled around her like spilled ink. Standing over her was a man holding the smoking gun, looking just as shocked as Robin.
Robin's gut twisted. "No!" Before his enemy could react, he rammed a palm through the man's elbow, hyperextending it with a brutal and wet crack. The man screamed but Robin afforded him no mercy. He crushed his cheek with a savage elbow, then let him fall like garbage. Whether the criminal scum would fully recover or not was none of Robin's concern. At this moment, only Batgirl mattered. Only Kimber mattered.
In that time, the gunman had shaken himself out of his stupor and began moving the heroine, dragging her with one hand gripping her cape to the portal.
I have to get to her. The thought pounded over and over in Robin's mind as he surged forward. He wouldn't let the man get to the portal. He couldn't.
The gunman glanced up in time to clock Robin charging in. "Don't come any closer!" he barked. He straddled Batgirl and pressed the gun to her chin. Despite his threatening actions, his wide eyes made it clear he was running on adrenaline, desperation, and nothing else. "One more step, an'–an'–an' I blow her head off!"
Robin halted mere yards from the goon, blood boiling and chest heaving. "You don't want to do that," he warned in a low voice.
The man snarled, pushing the gun further against Batgirl's lithe skin eliciting a strained groan from his wounded captive. "You sure about that, Bird Boy?"
The man's sudden bravado infuriated Robin. He felt something click in his brain, a new feeling of rage that he could barely contain. He managed the building pressure and funneled it into one seething sentence: "You don't want to do that." The words were the same but the tone was different. There was a darkness to his voice even surprised him, but more so he felt raw indignation – and by the pallid look on the man's face, Robin knew that his glower carried as much contempt for the man as was possible.
Despite it all, the man wouldn't let go. Robin's fingers twitched to his belt, calculating, waiting for an opportunity to exploit.
"Hey!" Sid the Squid was back on his feet, clutching a pistol like a child who'd found it under their father's bed. "Don't move!"
Robin ignored the bumbling man's demand, his eyes still fixed on the man holding Batgirl hostage. The man's attention snapped to Sid and his grip was lax. It was all the opportunity Robin needed. Like a gunslinger out of the old west, he removed his bat-claw from his belt and fired. The bat-claw struck like a viper, it hooked deep onto Batgirl's shoulder pad and yanked her toward him. The man cried out in surprise as his hostage was quickly wrenched free of his grasp. He stumbled forward in a vain attempt to snatch her back.
"What did I say—" Bang! His words were cut off as he flinched at his own actions. The shot went wide and cracked off the wall. Sid flinched and closed his eyes, dropping his weapon as if it had burned him. The gun hit the ground—Bang!—another round fired carelessly into a system of pipes and canisters overhead. A thin whistling pierced the air as gas quickly escaped.
Robin caught Batgirl, then looked up at the man who had held her hostage as the acrid smell of fuel started to sting his nostrils.
The hostage-taker sighed and straightened. A broken look came over his face. "It's too late, anyway..." He mumbled, eyes glossy. "It is coming." He smiled wide and manic. He lifted his eyes to the damaged pipes overhead and raised his gun in the air. "The End!"
Robin knew what was coming and hoped he had enough time. He fired his grapnel up with one hand, holding Batgirl close to him with his other. A moment after his feet left the floor, the man fired into the leaking gas.
Bang!
The building erupted. A storm of fire and metal swallowed everything within the warehouse. With his final movement as the shockwave of the explosion hit him, Robin curled protectively around Batgirl as the fireball threatened to swallow them. Then, they were airborne, weightless, suspended in fire and sky along with rebar and concrete. Robin's vision blurred as the ceiling vanished – replaced with sky and smoke. He felt his grip on Batgirl weaken and his heart skipped a beat. The only saving grace was the rapidly approaching harbor waters.
As everything started to fade to black, one question lingered in Robin's mind. Why didn't he warn us?
Crash.
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Robin regained consciousness moments after impact and managed to roll himself over in the water. Kimber… His first thought was murky but it was a goal.
Robin forced himself upright in the waters and scanned the area around him, coughing. There... On the shore... Three men were near her body, one was prodding her with what seemed to be a baton or handle of some sort as another started to pick her up. The third was heading for a parked car. He started to swim to her.
Hell no. He didn't care who they were. Even if they were the damn police, they were not taking her away.
Robin fired a line up to what remained of the smoldering shore-side warehouse and managed to get airborne before the men turned to the water. He loosened, then threw down two smoke pellets. That provided enough cover for him to crash feet-first into one man.
While still standing on his first victim's back, he pivoted and delivered a brutal uppercut to the second man. With both men down and out, he turned his attention to the rapidly approaching third man. The dark orange-breasted hero whipped out his retractable bo staff and used it to vault himself out of the smoke and into the man's face. As an added precaution, Robin slammed his staff into the man's temple, rendering him unconscious.
Robin approached Batgirl's body and dragged her out of sight of the street. He didn't even want to look at her – he couldn't – but he had to assess the damage. Tentatively and respectfully, he put a hand on her chest. Nothing. No rise. No fall. He took a bat-a-rang from his belt and, after wiping it clean, held it to her lips and nose. It did not fog up.
No… no, no, no! He hit her chest once and there was a gurgling burp from her mouth. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't heroic. It was a burp. But at that moment, it was the most angelic sound she could have made. Shortly after the burp, she coughed up some water and then her breathing started stronger. She was alive; unconscious and shaking, but alive.
The police would be there soon and he had to get to the BatCave. But his Bat-Trike was a single-occupant vehicle and her bike was even less of a possibility. The Batmobile? No… locked onto Batman's belt code alone… The Batwing was too conspicuous and neither of them were in any shape to climb into it, but what other choice did they have? He was about to call for the gaudy craft when he remembered just where in Gotham they were and realized there was another way.
"C'mon, Batgirl." Robin breathed heavily as he hoisted the unconscious girl up. "We're going for a swim." He carried the girl out to the water's edge and attached a rebreather to her helmet, forcing it between her seemingly lifeless lips. Robin waded into the frigid waters with his dear cargo and began his best to get them to the large wash drain nearly four hundred meters away.
He let the harbor's current carry them downstream—thankfully, in the right direction—only needing to adjust their course now and then. After a few minutes of floating, he took a breath and dove, pulling Batgirl with him the final ten meters beneath the surface to the underwater sink. It was a struggle. His muscles ached, his lungs screamed for air, but he eventually broke the surface in the secret chamber, gasping. He clung to the edge for a moment before dragging himself out of the water. Then, trembling and soaked, he painfully hoisted Batgirl out of the water and collapsed beside her, chest heaving.
What the hell have I been through today? My best friend gets shot, we both get blown up, we both almost drown and now I've had to swim with dead weight? How is it only hump day? Robin got his hand up and pressed the help beacon on his belt and closed his eyes. Just for a moment he allowed himself to feel the weight of the situation: the fear, the anxiety, the distress. Then, he locked it back up
Batman would be here soon.
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Ten minutes passed… Fifteen. The Dark Knight didn't show up.
"Where is he?" Robin's eyes burned as he forced them open. He turned to get his first real look at Batgirl. "Damn…"
A small bloody hole marred her left side just below her rib cage. The batsuit was nearly unrecognizable. The decorative cloths and colors were gone, leaving behind a melted patchwork atop a disgusting, dirty slag of body armor. The visor on her signature helmet was cracked, her cape looked more like a burnt tablecloth, and her gloves were caked with soot.
I probably don't look much better.
Robin stood, but the moment he did, a wave of dizziness hit him. He staggered to the water's edge and looked at his reflection… then recoiled in horror.
His own suit was ruined, too. The cape was nothing more than a strip of black tatters clinging to his shoulders, and his signature orange-and-black colors had been burned away, exposing only the scorched under armor. But that wasn't what shocked him. From his right side, about three inches of rebar protruded rudely. He had been impaled.
When? The explosion, probably–when debris went flying in every direction at terrifying speeds. But his adrenalin and instinct must have blocked out the pain. But now that he saw it, now that he knew he was wounded, the pain rushed in like a flood and washed away the adrenalin, replacing it pain. His knees nearly buckled and he stumbled, falling onto back. He began hyperventilating.
Panicking, he fumbled for the S.O.S. beacon on his suit and pressed it. The steady red light and beep assured him that it was transmitting his location to every BatWave-enabled device. it was a small comfort.
Where is Batman? And why isn't he here to save us? And then darkness filled Robin's mind.
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Bruce Wayne smiled as Diana took the seat he'd pulled out for her, then settled across from her. "I'm glad for your company tonight, Diana."
"Oh Bruce," she replied with a grin. "I'm more surprised you found the time out of your oh-so-busy schedule to stay out this long. I didn't realize Wayne Enterprises handed out nights off."
It had been a lovely evening. After the surprising moment at the charity auction, Bruce had whisked her away. First to a quiet movie, then here: a private dinner. No phones, no appointments. 'My associates,' she remembered him saying, 'have everything under control.' She sure hoped she could meet them one day, to thank them.
"Not as many angry stares tonight." She scanned the room of patrons and waitstaff. "Am I yesterday's news already?" She shot her companion a sly look.
To her pleasant surprise, Bruce returned it with a matching smirk. "Well, you haven't blown anything up," he teased, "and I've been keeping myself out of the tabloids. Or trying to, at least." He adjusted his position, draping one arm over the back of his chair. "Unless you prefer the attention?"
Diana's hands shot up quickly in protest, laughing. "No, no... I'm quite content in in my obscurity. The fewer reminders of my Justice Lords days, the better."
She fiddled with her napkin restlessly as their waiter poured wine with a slightly nervous smile before leaving the two with the menu and excusing himself with a courteous bow.
"But enough about me," she said, leaning in. "You've asked me so many questions tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if you already know what I'm going to say next! What about you, Bruce Wayne?"
Of all of his dates – if he allowed himself to call this a date, which he didn't – none had ever asked him sincerely about himself. Most of the women he'd courted were shallow by design. That had been the point. This was admittedly uncharted territory. Even without the lasso at her disposal, he found it hard to come up with a dismissive lie on the spot.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting toward his reflect in the window. He caught a faint reflecting red notification light blinking in his pants pocket. The S.O.S. beacon.
Robin and Batgirl. He felt his mind shifting to darker things and his hand went to his pocket to answer. He hesitated. They can handle it. He adjusted in his seat again, tapping 'ignore' as he did so. The light vanished and so did the darkness. He faced Diana. "What is there to know that isn't already in the Inquirer or the Globe?"
"Oh, I'm sure there's a lot more to you than they'd have the readers believe…" she replied, smiling as she rested her chin on her hand.
Bruce shrugged and gave her a wry look. "Sorry to disappoint."
She gave him a skeptical look and a second chance.
He couldn't help it. He started to talk, indulging her curiosity with a story from his travels around the world when he was a younger man.
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Robin's eyes shot open with a searing vengeance. He was on his feet an instant. And in the next, he was disappointed. Batman hadn't come. As he stood, he was reminded of the metal lodged in his side and faltered. Keep going. He reached down for Batgirl and, to his relief, her hand shot up.
"'Bout time you woke up," Batgirl murmured sardonically.
"Thank god!"
He swiftly pulled her to her feet and she wrapped her arms around his neck for balance.
"Woah..." she breathed, trying to steady herself as the world tilted beneath her. "Quite a predicament we've gotten ourselves into, huh?" she whispered through a whimper.
"Yeah…"
"Did we win?"
Robin was quiet for a moment. He wasn't too sure how much she remembered. "Yeah… we won, Kim."
"Then why do I feel like shit?"
Robin bit his lip. "You look beautiful."
"You're only saying that to make me feel better." She sagged against him, and he had to wrap an arm around her waist to support her. His hand slipped and for a moment he accidentally brushed her rear. "Watch it, Boy Wonder," she warned. "I'm spoken for." But she didn't pull away.
Robin chuckled, quiet but genuine. "We're gonna have to walk now, okay… Think you do that?"
Batgirl gave a feeble nod. "How far?"
"Not too much further." Just over half a mile… "Keep talking, Kimber."
"'Bout what?"
"Anything."
"Why?"
"Because I want you to brighten this grimy sewer tunnel with your melodic voice."
They began to trudge, slowly and painfully, toward the closest of Batman's underground rail stations—a private, hidden line that would take them home.
"You should know that I was classified as tone-deaf in high school," she muttered. "Got kicked out of choir an' everything."
Robin laughed. "Right now, your voice is the most beautiful sound in the world."
"That's really lame, bud," Batgirl kidded back, but she understood now. Their situation was bleak. He didn't want to lose her and if she stopped talking, she could slip back under... And not come back.
As she limped, she could see the blood slowly dripping from her bullet wound and into the shallow drain water. She watched her fluid mix with the dank liquid waste of the city above and sniffed. She turned to Robin and examined him.
"You've been stabbed," she observed dully.
"Impaled," Robin corrected. "But yeah. When did you become such a detective?" he shot back dryly.
Batgirl went quiet.
"C'mon, Kimber… Find something to talk about, huh?"
A pause.
"Camels are just silly-looking horses with scoliosis."
Robin barked a laugh through the pain in his side. "Is that so?"
"Yeah… and they smell funny."
"You've ridden one?"
"Oh yeah… One or twice. Used to see them at the county fair…"
And their lonely sojourn continued.
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Diana spun herself about the parlor banister like an exotic dancer, then floated with graceful ease into Bruce's waiting arms. Her lips brushed close to his ear. "Hey, handsome," she purred. "How's about coming upstairs to Mount Olympus?"
Bruce gave her a half-grin, feigning innocence. "Diana... are you drunk?"
"Did you know Amazons cannot get drunk?" she declared proudly. "We are magic."
Bruce shook his head. "You're drunk."
"Oh, please. What's one drink to a warrior princess?" Her fingers walked up his lapel and she slowly flew up until she was above Bruce's head. In the air, she reclined as if lying on a chaise. "Is that a no? Whatever will you tell that man Daggett?"
"One drink? Diana, you had over two-thirds a bottle," Bruce said with slight concern, then he shrugged with indifference. "As for Daggett, I'll tell him what I always tell him: nothing. The tabloids always write a better story anyway. According to them, I have dated a contortionist or five…"
He reached up for her, she hovered just out of reach. When he turned away with exaggerated disinterest, the sound of her stifled gasp and the soft thump of her touching back down on earth followed by the patter of her feet following after him made made him laugh under his breath. He turned, walking backward now, eyes locked on her.
"Okay, so maybe you have no need to share anything with Daggett," Diana teased, catching up. "But wouldn't it be nice to actually live up to the rumor mill just once?"
Bruce remained steadfast but decided to humor her. "Not really."
She crossed her arms in a huff, feigning umbrage. "We've been to a charity banquet. A movie. A private dinner." She put emphasis on each item. "And through it all, you kept inquiring about my lineage and my recent activities. It felt like I was on trial all over again!"
He watched her carefully. You've regained one of your stripped powers. I have to know why. He crossed his arms, masking concern behind dry humor. "You did your fair share of interrogating," he countered, hoping to deflect her suspicions. Perhaps he'd been a bit too direct with his questioning.
"Bruce. That is the longest date we've been on—"
"Date?"
"That is what this was, wasn't it?" she probed, cocking her head. "Even if you refuse to acknowledge it as such, that is what everyone else sees. And tonight, everything has been on your terms. So now..." Her voice dipped to a sultry, soft, and low. "Let me take the reins."
Bruce swallowed. He felt his pulse quicken. If you let this happen, if you cross this line, there's no walking it back. "You're making too much sense for someone who's drunk," he said, the roughness in his voice betraying his composure.
Diana floated forward until she was a few feet from him, her smile a playful challenge. "I told you, Mr. Wayne. I cannot get drunk. I just assumed, given Gotham's scandal mags, it would be the fastest way to get what we've both wanted for a while."
Bruce stepped forward, putting his face a mere few inches from hers. "And what is it we both have wanted?" he asked, unable to prevent his voice from coming out in a hoarse tone.
Diana didn't answer. She only laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. She beckoned him with one finger under his chin as she floated back effortlessly. Then, she ascended – through her own reclaimed power – up the stairs toward the guest room.
Bruce stood frozen for a moment, then he followed. No more resisting.
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"I'm sorry."
"What?" Robin blinked. How long had they been walking? Robin wasn't sure. The whole way Batgirl had been rattling off tidbits of animal trivia and chemistry facts – distractions, really – but this was different. "Sorry for what?"
"For… you know…" Her breathing came in labored spurts. "For snapping at you earlier."
"It's fine, Batgirl," Robin responded, his earlier levity gone. "I shouldn't have pushed. It's my B."
"No, it's not your B," Batgirl surprisingly rejected his apology. "It's mine. I was frustrated and I took it out on you. I have been dealing with some… relationship shit recently. Realizing things. And I'm still sorting it all out."
Robin wanted to ask but kept his questions to himself. "Dude, it's okay. As long as we're still friends."
"Yeah… friends." She said it quietly, like the words felt wrong in her mouth.
The wounded duo limped the final steps to the dead end of the tunnel. A grimy keypad stared them in the face. "Great…" Robin coughed and spat on the ground. "Just…Give me a moment or two to hack this."
As he staggered forward, Batgirl leaned against the concrete wall putting pressure on her wound. She resisted the urge to sink to the floor and take a nap. Robin had struggled through too much to keep her on her feet for her to just give up right here. Her legs had felt like lead and she knew she'd been more or less dead weight to Robin for the last hundred feet. But here she had a moment to redeemed herself. "Nine-One-Nine-Three-Nine-Pound."
He didn't even question it. Robin wearily tapped in the digits. The panel beeped to live, and the hidden door slid open with a heavy, mechanical sigh. "How'd you know?" he asked as he helped her into the rusted old elevator.
"Please, Curt." Batgirl slumped against the mesh siding, barely upright. "Who was the first partner here?"
At the sound of his name, Curtis peeled off his mangled cowl and inspected it. The lenses clouded. It was a miracle he had been able to see through them at all. The cowl was covered in ash and dust. Scorch marks decorated the back of it. Scrapes decorated the forehead and the plates on the temple were dented from debris impact. It looked less like a mask and more like a relic from a distant war.
There was a hollow klunk and Curtis turned. Kimber had pulled her helmet from her head and dropped it. Now she stood, bent at the waist with her hands on her knees, looking rather pained.
Curtis stooped and gingerly picked up her ruined helmet. "Look at this thing…"
"I'd rather not."
It was missing a chunk of one ear and the other ear was dented in the wrong direction. The visor was spiderwebbed with cracks, with a distinct round impact crack on one side. At the back was a dent from which a fissure snaked over the helmet's dome to the top of the visor. Curtis then looked from the damaged helmet to the head it had so graciously protected.
Kimber's raven hair was a wild mess. Her face was streaked with soot and her mouth and chin were covered in dirt and grime. Blood dripped to the rusting metal floor from a fresh gash connecting the corner of her lips to her chin. Even so, her lips retained their natural cotton-candy pink and they slightly parted as she panted. Even bruised, bloody, and breathing through exhaustion, she still looked beautiful.
"What are you staring at?" she rasped, half-squinting, her nose scrunching up that way that always made him smile.
Curtis didn't answer. He stepped in and kissed her. Her lips were chapped and dry. Her mouth tasted like smoke, salt water, and blood. He didn't care.
When they broke, Kimber shoved him lightly, thumping his chest with her closed fist. She chuckled painfully. "If I wasn't in so much pain, I'd hurt you."
"Sure." Curtis took her chin in his hand, brushing a thumb along her scarred jaw before leaning in again. They kissed. And he pulled their lips apart, she leaned forward unsteadily, as if to linger in the moment a bit longer.
She looked up at him, caught somewhere between caution and anticipation. "You kiss me again, our friendship is over..." Kimber warned, voice hoarse.
"I know. I almost lost you. I can't—"
She kissed him.
"I hate you." Kimber's breathing was thin, but she managed enough strength to pin Curtis to the rickety elevator fence. "But thank you." She brushed her cheek up against his and then looked him in the eye with a small, shy smile.
Curtis chuckled. He knew exactly what she meant. "I love you, too."
Their lips met again.
Fireworks.