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PART ONE: THE REPLACEMENT
The engine beneath him was practically whisper quiet, a high hum that sang with every acceleration addictingly. Already speeding and weaving through the traffic from the Nighthawk’s game that had just let out, Robin was barely going a quarter of the speed the R-Cycle was capable of.
“Robin to Oracle, you with me still Lady O?”
“Hey Short-pants, how’s it looking out there?”
He growled lightly, even as he smiled despite himself. “Is that nickname ever going to die? Seriously, it’s been almost five years. Be like Elsa: let it go.”
Her laugh over the comm was light and sweet, and he felt his heart ache a little at how it still reminded him of his mother’s laugh. “Oh, Rob sweety. I have the pictures. That name is never going to go away.”
“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up.” He downshifted and slowed as another motorcycle pulled out in front of him from a side street. The rider with the full-face helmet glanced at Robin as the young hero gave a little wave when he passed the rider on the left. “And it seems to have been a good night for the Hawks. Fans have been celebrating coming out of the stadium but nothing out of hand. Campus security should be able to keep them in check. How are B and C making out at the docks?”
She hesitated, which was never good. “They intercepted a crew trying to steal one of Professor Ivo’s androids from Black Mask.”
“An Amazo? Seriously” Robin scoffed. “They get all the fun.”
“The entire League has trouble with those machines depending on its past exposure, and you think that would have been fun?” Oracle chided him gently. “Batman and Corvid could have been seriously hurt. As it is, shortly after beating the android they came under fire from a sniper that killed the men trying to steal it.”
“What?! Are they okay?”
“We’re fine, Baby Bird.” Corvid’s amused voice cut into the comm. “I’m already back in the cave and waiting for B to get back with the Batwing before I head out again.”
“Should I come in? I can help you finish out the night.”
“That wasn’t the deal, Rob.” Corvid said. “We don’t make you stay behind to finish that English paper you’ve got due Monday, you still get to patrol on your own if you promised to stay in Bristol and Burnside and be back by eleven. Which is in less than an hour. Not his fault you’ve had a quiet night.”
He sighed, pausing at the red light he found himself. “You know you just jinxed it, right? I’ll go back to the Cave and BAM! Breakout from Blackgate.”
Corvid laughed morbidly. “Don’t even joke about that, pipsqueak. I do not want to have to reset the ‘days-since-mass-escapes’ counter again.”
Movement at the corner of his vision drew his attention when the rider he had passed earlier drew up alongside him. The guy’s sleek black cycle revved and lurched a few inches forward before easing back parallel with him. A leather glove pointed to Robin, then himself, the still red light, then revved the engine again.
Dick smirked behind his own full helmet and nodded once. “Fine. I’m going to make a few more passes around campus to make sure it stays calm then I’ll head back to the cave.”
Corvid scoffed. “So, I didn’t just hear another biker challenging you to yet another street race?”
“Me? I would never!” Robin gasped dramatically and revved his own engine in response, knowing full well they would hear it through the comm. “Don’t tell B!”
“You honestly believe he’s not listening in to us right now?” Oracle asked, her grin evident in her voice.
“Give ‘em hell, Short-pants.” Corvid cheered, not that Robin paid any attention.
The light turned green and instantly both bikes shot forward. His opponent took an early advantage, but Robin was content to let the guy take the lead for the time being. They were zipping through the streets of Burnside, weaving in and out of the after-game traffic and through quieter side streets and alleys of campus. The thrill and rush of adrenalin when their speed began increasing had a grin plastered on the thirteen-years-old’s face.
The guy’s bike was obviously modified, the speed and manoeuverability of the machine not standard for a civilian street bike. Much like Robin’s own bike it was quieter, sleeker, and faster. Even the rider’s helmet was unlike any he had seen before: a deep scarlet red, full faced and with no apparent visor. He would have wondered more about how the guy was able to see when Robin suddenly realized what was happening.
Anytime he tried to overtake his opponent, the man would cut him off. If he tried to slow down in an attempt to get around him, the other bike matched his speed. He may have expected it in a street race, but the guy kept his rear wheel only a few inches ahead of Robin’s front tire. Meaning that if Robin didn’t want to risk a potentially deadly collision he had to make the turns the guy wanted him to.
He was being herded.
The riding gear Robin wore was generic enough that unless the guy had noted the small, dark red symbol on the front of his helmet it probably wasn’t a Bat thing. The more likely scenario was that Red Helmet Guy was part of a gang and was going to steer him toward his buddies where they’d tried to steal the clearly expensive machine he was riding. Either way, not an ideal situation.
“Shit.” With a quick glance behind him for any nearby traffic, and seeing he had at least fifty clear yards, he hit the rear brake and pulled the clutch. With a sharp squeal of his brakes, he leaned away from the other rider, the rear tire slipping and starting to drift the same instant he released the clutch and added his throttle. Behind him as his bike leapt forward, he could hear the same shriek of tires, but he was now driving into oncoming traffic and couldn’t take the chance to look behind him.
“Robin to Batcave!” A horn blared as he swerved an oncoming sedan and managed to get into the proper lane of traffic. “I think I’ve got a problem here.” He didn’t think he sounded panicked, exactly, but the response he got from Corvid had him second guessing his tone.
“What’s going on, Robin?”
He started to look behind him only to catch sight of the other rider still gaining on him from the other lane. It didn’t look like the guy was even looking at the vehicles coming at him head on, but what worried Robin more was the sawed-off shotgun Red Helmet Guy had drawn from a holster on the bike. When it was aimed in Robin’s direction he was starting to lean a little more toward it being a Bat kind of problem.
“SHIT!” Once again hitting the brake he yanked the handle of his bike to the right, barely avoiding the buckshot that chipped into the pavement where his tire had just been. He was only vaguely aware of Corvid yelling for him across the comms since he was desperately trying to keep control of the cycle.
He managed to turn into a controlled skid around a corner, narrowly missing a parked car, and evened out into the straight away. A squeal of tires, rev of an engine, and a quick look behind him proved what he feared: the other guy was right behind him and aiming the shotgun again. The crack of the weapon was closer than he would have liked, but he managed to avoid the pellets once again by turning into an alley. He didn’t have to look to know the guy was still on his six.
“Robin, status.” Batman’s order was barked across the comm and Robin could never deny how relieved he was just hearing the man’s voice.
Instincts screaming at him, Robin ducked lower just as there was another crack of the shotgun and a light on the wall just ahead of him exploded in a spray of sparks. “Single rider, black custom street bike, brown and black riding gear, solid red hel- FUCK!” Another shot broke pieces of brick and dust of the corner of the building just as he burst through the other end of the alley. Heart leaping inside his chest, he somehow managed to not close his eyes and kept going while cutting across four lanes of traffic. “Don’t die, don’t die, don’t – LOOK OUT!”
A group of pedestrians suddenly stepped in front of the opposite alley he had been heading for. Hitting his brakes and pulling the clutch again, Robin planted his left foot while he forced his bike into a break-neck drift away from the group of college kids. The rear tire smoked as it burned rubber, his knee hit the pavement hard, and he felt his arms shaking with the effort even as people screamed and dove out of the way.
The backend of his cycle was still fishtailing when he released the clutch and opened the throttle. He sped away just as the pavement behind him was pelted with another round of buckshot. He saw a sign ahead that had him steering through vehicles and turning left across on-coming traffic. Horns blaring behind him let him know the thug was still in pursuit as he passed beneath the overpass above him.
“Oracle, where is he?” Corvid demanded, the sound of the older hero’s motorcycle as it sped out of the cave echoing behind his voice.
“I’m tracking him south on University Drive coming up on the radio station.” Oracle was saying and Robin could see the station’s broadcasting tower ahead to his right. “The camera in his helmet is broadcasting and I can see what he sees but still trying to get him on street cameras so we can get a visual of the bastard shooting at him!”
“Description matches the sniper I chased into Ace Chemicals.” Batman growled. “I’m docking the Batwing now. Robin, do you read?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m here” He answered breathlessly, looking back and trying not to freak out when he saw the guy still following.
“Corvid is in route and I’m twenty seconds from the car. I need you to head west and up to the Goodwin Expressway first chance you can.”
“No, I’m still too close to the University.” He countered as he sped straight through the intersection and past the station. “Pedestrian and vehicle traffic is too heavy down here, and if this asshole keeps shooting at me someone is going to get hit. I’m five blocks from Sprang Bridge: three lane traffic both ways. The straightaway will allow me full throttle. Jackass is good but he won’t be able to match the speed.”
“Hang tight, Robin!” Corvid told him. “Keep ahead of him. When you’re off the bridge, head into Puckett Park and I’ll meet up with you on the north side of Novick Tunnel. Batman is going to be right behind me.”
“Copy that.” He caught the green light at the next intersection but still ended up swerving to the right and around a car making the same left turn. A few blocks in the distance he could see the onramp to the bridge rising above the buildings.
“I’ve got you on city traffic cams, Robin.” Oracle told him calmly, keys clacking in the background. “He’s not far behind you but doesn’t look like he’s gaining on you either. Veer left!”
Without conscious thought he followed her direction and swerved just as another crack of the shotgun sounded behind him. “Asshole’s going to kill someone!”
“Yes, you! Keep going!” Corvid snarled, his motorcycle revving up to top speed. “Get across that bridge and back through the tunnel. I’m five minutes out.”
“He’s holstered the gun.” Oracle’s voice sounded relieved. “But he’s picking up speed now. I’ll keep the rest of the way to the bridge green, so open it up a little more.”
Pulse pounding, he shifted gear and the bike lurched forward with the speedometer creeping above eighty. If he weren’t so terrified he would have loved going so fast. He’d been Robin for three years and knew how dangerous the job could be. He’d been beaten, stabbed, thrown off the roof of the Empire Hotel with a broken grapple, hell he’d even been shot (just a graze, but it still totally counted). However, this was the first time he was being hunted through the city streets with backup so far out. Five minutes was a long time when some asshole was trying to kill you.
Easing onto the onramp, he barely slowed down as he merged into the flow of traffic. Without bothering to see if the guy was still behind him, Robin shifted gear and accelerated. “Eat shit, asshole.” He flew between vehicles, passing on the left and right as his speed leveled out at nearly one-twenty.
“He’s still following you, Rob, but you’re outpacing him.” Oracle informed him. “In about sixty second’s you’ll want to take it down to fifty and exit right onto Puckett Boulevard. You’re not going to be able to lose him completely, but I’ll make sure the way is clea-ROBIN!”
He saw it the instant before she screamed.
A northbound semi-trailer had suddenly crashed through the concrete dividers and veered into the southbound lanes.
His lanes.
The driver slammed on the brakes and Robin could see him spinning the wheel through the windshield, sending the massive vehicle jack-knifing toward him. The trailer on the back started to twist and tilt, leaving him with only one choice to avoid crashing at deadly speed into its side.
There was no hesitation as he hit his brakes and yanked the bike into a slide. His right leg and shoulder hit the pavement painfully and he cried out as he was pulled off the machine. Metal crunching and howling, his body skidded across the surface of the road. He felt more than saw the trailer pass over him as he slid beneath it and then closed his eyes as he started to roll. All around him tires squealed and horns blared and metal crashed into metal, and still he was rolling. He wanted to scream but the air was stolen from his lungs when he came to an abrupt and painful stop against the chain-links of the fence separating the road from the caged in sidewalk.
Vertigo and intense nausea overwhelmed his senses. He could hear voices inside and outside his helmet screaming and yelling and he longed for the relief of unconsciousness from it all. But then he realized he couldn’t breathe. Body slow to answer him, he rolled onto his back and managed to lift his arms enough to release the clasp of his helmet, pulling it off his head.
The smell of smoke and gas and the water beneath the bridge assaulted him along with the dramatic increase of the noise. It took him a few more terrifying seconds before his lungs reinflated and he was gasping desperately for air. Coughing and gagging he let the helmet fall from his hands at his side.
“Don’t move!” A man was instructing him when he tried to roll onto his side. A pair of hands, strong and steady, took hold of his head with the fingers spread wide at the base of his skull and neck to keep it immobile. “Stay still. Hey! Hey, you! Yes, you! Stop fucking filming and call 9-1-1; tell them we’ve got multiple collisions on Sprang Bridge and potential for high casualties. Tell them one of the injured is Robin. Oh, holy shit, what is my life? No, hey, Robin, stay still, kid!”
Gasping and coughing a few more times, he listened to the voice and didn’t try to move again. He wanted to open his eyes but searing pain through his head kept them closed. “How – how many?” He gasped.
“Seriously?” the same voice asked incredulously. “You are. Of course you are! I-”
Several gunshots suddenly rang out around them and people were screaming again. The pedestrians that had likely stopped to watch started running. Robin could feel the hands on either side of his head flinch and a body hunch over him. He forced his eyes open despite the pain and looked out through the lenses of his domino mask. Above him was a man in a denim jacket and light green scrubs, a lanyard around his neck naming him Pacey Green and a nurse at Greytowers Medical.
“Oh god, he killed him” Pacey whispered.
“Who?” Robin tried to move, to get up, but Pacey looked back down at him and shook his head.
“Please, don’t move!” The nurse hissed, flicking a look off to the side before shaking his head. “Big guy, leather jacket, red helmet. Was yelling at the driver in the semi and he just…”
“Pacey? That’s your name, right?” Reaching up with a shaky hand, Robin grabbed at the man’s wrists. He could hear heavy footsteps getting closer. “You need to leave. Now!”
“I’m not leaving you.” Pacey hissed, though Robin felt the man’s hands starting to tremble.
“Please, I’ll be okay. Go, quickly.”
“I’d listen to the kid.” A mechanized voice said. “Walk away.”
“You didn’t see him!” Pacey turned to look at the figure looming over them and glared. “The way he skidded, the way he stopped, he could have a spinal injury!”
“Oh, I am aware.” The voice had the audacity to sound angry about it. “Kid’s got balls, going the speed he was with game night traffic. Told my guy to back off and, well, let’s just say his employment has been terminated for non-compliance. Now, this city ain’t exactly kind to its good Samaritans, so last chance. Walk away.”
Voice quivering as much as his hands, Pacey looked away and down at Robin again. “No.”
“He’ll go!” Robin tightened his hold on the nurse’s wrists. Gently but insistently, he pried the hands away from the side of his head. “He’s going. Pacey, please. Go.”
The man was shaking his head, anger and shame in his eyes, but leaned back away from Robin before getting to his feet and out of Robin’s field of view. There was a few seconds hesitation before he heard the man’s footsteps running. Red Helmet Guy stepped into his place, a pistol in his hand. The faceless helmet looked down at Robin and crouched next to him.
“Anything feeling broken or numb, kid?” The question surprised Robin and it must have shown on his face because the strange sound the modulated voice made could only have been a snort. “Yeah, I know, I was shooting at you only a few minutes ago, but I needed to make sure you went where I wanted you to. Trust me, kid, if I wanted to hit you I would have. Still, you won’t be any use to me if you die when I move you. So, anything feeling broken or numb?”
“N-numb.” Robin swallowed shallowly and licked his lips, dread pooling in his gut. Corvid couldn’t be that far out. He just needed to delay the jackass a little bit more. “My legs.”
The helmet turned and a second later the guy was pressing the warm muzzle of the gun through one of the tears in his pants and against the scraped and bloody flesh of his thigh. Pain he had been trying to ignore exploded over his skin and he gasped with it, flinching away without conscious thought. “Yeah, real numb.”
Adrenaline surged through the aches and pain that were growing more noticeable, which allowed Robin to grab his discarded helmet and smashed it upside the guy’s head. True, he may have just hit the other helmet and not nearly as strong as he might have before kissing the pavement, but it was enough to stagger the man and give Robin the space to scramble to his feet.
“ROBIN!”
He was reaching for his escrima sticks that were typically strapped across his back, when he realized they had been secured to his bike because of his riding gear. Not that it would have mattered, as the sudden movement had him wavering and his vision greying at the edges. He would have hit the ground when his knees suddenly buckled beneath him, but a heavy arm wrapped around his waist and he was held back-to-chest against the large man. His feet weren’t even touching the ground.
“Not bad, Kid.” The modulated voice sounded above his head as it flopped back against the guy’s shoulder. He briefly considered ignoring the nausea and fading sight, trying to fight the man, but there was no ignoring the gun barrel that was suddenly pressed against his temple. “You’ve got some nasty road rash where you hit the ground, maybe a concussion, a couple of deep tissue bruises. But the way you moved just now tells me you’re going to be exactly what I need for Big Bad Daddy Bats.”
“Let him go!”
Tim? When did Corvid get there?
“And him.” Red Helmet Guy laughed, an odd sound through the modulator. “Late again, Birdbrain! This makes two little sycophants you’ve failed now doesn’t it? Tell the big man and his shadow I said ‘Hello’ won’t you? You know what, never mind.”
Several shots sounded from the gun, pain lancing through Robin’s head with every crack. Then there was a sudden ‘BOOM’ and a ‘WHOOSH’ of heat. The world tilted to the side, spun around him sickeningly, and he kind of hoped he would have vomited on the asshole when Robin was thrown over an armored shoulder. A thick arm held onto his legs at his knees, keeping him from sliding right off. He wanted to fight; he really did. But the abrupt inversion had the grey turning to black and his body limp and unresponsive.
“I’ll tell them myself.”