Status: In Progress
Fallen Future
Robin
"Tell me again- why exactly am I going to Arkham?"
As usual, a moment of icy silence was his response. Not so long as to indicate he wouldn't talk at all, just long enough to make me feel like I was an absolute amateur.
"Aside from the Manor, Arkham is the most secure and fortified building in the city. Any survivors left would most likely flock to it's doors," just when I thought I woukdn't get a reply, his gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts.
"So this is a rescue mission?"
Nothing. Resigning myself to the fact our conversation was over, I focused on the task at hand, trying to keep my excitement in place. For years I was raised on stories of this city and it's self-styled protector, and the fact that my hero was now my mentor hadn't yet sunk in.
"Robin."
That was me. I was Robin. Bruce Wayne's first partner since my predecessor, Tim Drake, was brutally murdered. But I was determined to be no mere 'replacement'. I owned the costume the role of Robin was mine to keep.
"Robin, come in."
Robin. The Teen Wonder. Accomplice and partner to the Dark Knight of Gotham city. God I looked good in tights...
"Robin!"
"Sorry, Bruce..."
"Remember what we discussed, if you don't respond over the comms, I assume you're in danger."
Sure, I thought. Imagine having a teammate who didn't answer you or your questions. I didn't know how I'd cope.
"Sorry, sir," I muttered, only barely holding back the sarcasm.
"Keep an eye open, there are signs of people being stranded near the manor. We can only assume that there may be more."
"Right, okay."
"Oh, and Robin?"
"Yeah?"
"Batman's identity may be public knowledge these days, buy in the field, we never use real names. Got it? Contact me when you're done in the asylum."
Ever since he had taken me under his wing (so to speak) it had been that way. Every victory celebrated in silence; every mistake brutally reprimanded. And there had been a lot of mistakes in the beginning, more than Bruce or I wished to admit to. When the war had first broke out I had been scared, sure, but I had felt safe across the ocean. But soon it wasn't just America's problem. Before long it was in the streets outside, and in the sky above our rooftops. After Captain America and the rest of the Avengers had fallen, people just abandoned hope and London was lost before Summer's end. That was where he found me, alone-
Enough. I needed to focus.
In the moonlight the Gotham ruins looked like something out of a horror movie. I shuddered. God, I hoped there was no vampires. Zombies I could handle, but another six foot tall bat? That would be too much. Still, I'd be more likely to get a conversation our of Dracula than Bruce.
"I'm just entering what remains of the cave. Are you near the Asylum?"
"Approaching the gates."
I saw what Bruce meant. Arkham Asylum had clearly been built not just to keep the inmates contained, but to keep everybody else out. A clever design, just a shame that people like the Joker made a mockery out of it so often. But he was long gone, dead, captured- whatever. He was a million miles away from his adoptive home. Windows were boarded, so that just left the main door. Apprehension gripped me, I knew I shouldn't go for me the obvious route. Not that I'd been left much choice.
The huge doors creaked open, dead leaves and ivy tendrils crumbled and fell to the ground at my touch. The inside was dark and smelled bad enough to make me gag. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, and then fumbled blindly for the light switch. Like the voice at the back of my head told me (And it sounded alarmingly like Bruce), they didn't work. Still choking on the disgusting smell, I groped for the torch I'd been given. The beam pierced the darkness and found the source of what had sent me reeling.
From the high rafters, a body hung from a thick, tattered purple rope. Shining the light on his chest, I saw a name tag, perhaps left so it was identifiable. James Gordon. Bruce had mentioned him. The body was in a serious state of decomposition, but it obviously wasn't more than a year old. Somebody had been back to leave this for me. No, not for me.
Welcome Home, Bats!
Written in blood on the ceiling, the words screamed down at me.
"Batman," I fingered my headpiece, needing to contact my partner. "You need to see this."
As usual, a moment of icy silence was his response. Not so long as to indicate he wouldn't talk at all, just long enough to make me feel like I was an absolute amateur.
"Aside from the Manor, Arkham is the most secure and fortified building in the city. Any survivors left would most likely flock to it's doors," just when I thought I woukdn't get a reply, his gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts.
"So this is a rescue mission?"
Nothing. Resigning myself to the fact our conversation was over, I focused on the task at hand, trying to keep my excitement in place. For years I was raised on stories of this city and it's self-styled protector, and the fact that my hero was now my mentor hadn't yet sunk in.
"Robin."
That was me. I was Robin. Bruce Wayne's first partner since my predecessor, Tim Drake, was brutally murdered. But I was determined to be no mere 'replacement'. I owned the costume the role of Robin was mine to keep.
"Robin, come in."
Robin. The Teen Wonder. Accomplice and partner to the Dark Knight of Gotham city. God I looked good in tights...
"Robin!"
"Sorry, Bruce..."
"Remember what we discussed, if you don't respond over the comms, I assume you're in danger."
Sure, I thought. Imagine having a teammate who didn't answer you or your questions. I didn't know how I'd cope.
"Sorry, sir," I muttered, only barely holding back the sarcasm.
"Keep an eye open, there are signs of people being stranded near the manor. We can only assume that there may be more."
"Right, okay."
"Oh, and Robin?"
"Yeah?"
"Batman's identity may be public knowledge these days, buy in the field, we never use real names. Got it? Contact me when you're done in the asylum."
Ever since he had taken me under his wing (so to speak) it had been that way. Every victory celebrated in silence; every mistake brutally reprimanded. And there had been a lot of mistakes in the beginning, more than Bruce or I wished to admit to. When the war had first broke out I had been scared, sure, but I had felt safe across the ocean. But soon it wasn't just America's problem. Before long it was in the streets outside, and in the sky above our rooftops. After Captain America and the rest of the Avengers had fallen, people just abandoned hope and London was lost before Summer's end. That was where he found me, alone-
Enough. I needed to focus.
In the moonlight the Gotham ruins looked like something out of a horror movie. I shuddered. God, I hoped there was no vampires. Zombies I could handle, but another six foot tall bat? That would be too much. Still, I'd be more likely to get a conversation our of Dracula than Bruce.
"I'm just entering what remains of the cave. Are you near the Asylum?"
"Approaching the gates."
I saw what Bruce meant. Arkham Asylum had clearly been built not just to keep the inmates contained, but to keep everybody else out. A clever design, just a shame that people like the Joker made a mockery out of it so often. But he was long gone, dead, captured- whatever. He was a million miles away from his adoptive home. Windows were boarded, so that just left the main door. Apprehension gripped me, I knew I shouldn't go for me the obvious route. Not that I'd been left much choice.
The huge doors creaked open, dead leaves and ivy tendrils crumbled and fell to the ground at my touch. The inside was dark and smelled bad enough to make me gag. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, and then fumbled blindly for the light switch. Like the voice at the back of my head told me (And it sounded alarmingly like Bruce), they didn't work. Still choking on the disgusting smell, I groped for the torch I'd been given. The beam pierced the darkness and found the source of what had sent me reeling.
From the high rafters, a body hung from a thick, tattered purple rope. Shining the light on his chest, I saw a name tag, perhaps left so it was identifiable. James Gordon. Bruce had mentioned him. The body was in a serious state of decomposition, but it obviously wasn't more than a year old. Somebody had been back to leave this for me. No, not for me.
Welcome Home, Bats!
Written in blood on the ceiling, the words screamed down at me.
"Batman," I fingered my headpiece, needing to contact my partner. "You need to see this."