Wings of the Knight Ch. Two - YJ

  Chapter Two
  
   Have you ever wondered what the world would be like without its precious Batman to save it? Quite a thought, really--Gotham without the Dark Knight. Would anyone mourn, or would the people be grateful? What would become of the city? The Justice League? Robin? Imagine a day without the Bat. Now imagine a lifetime... Can you see the future, little bird? Because I can. And it's beautiful.
  
   The man awoke with a jerk, shooting into a sitting position before crying out in pain and falling back into the pillows that surrounded him as an echo-y laugh continued to ring across his subconscious mind, playing on an endless loop that both terrified and annoyed him. He stifled a groan and squeezed his eyes shut against the light that surrounded him... patrol had been a nightmare the night before, and his body-wide agony must have contributed to the viciously twisted dream that followed soon after he had fallen into bed. Yet still... it had felt so real. With new resolve, he reopened his eyes, intent on swinging by his Robin's room, if only to reassure himself that the young boy was alright. As he squinted through the blinding pain that accosted him, however, he realized that something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. For one thing, the ceilings in his room were not white. Secondly, as he became more and more aware of the world around him, he noticed a faint, constant beeping. He tried to move his arm, but found that something held his hand tethered to the bed on which he was lying. Again, he blinked, trying to regain his bearings, but he found that every time he did so a wave of dizziness wafted over his whole being--that did not deter him, as he struggled once more to sit up, this time nearly succeeding before being forced to lie back only partly propped up. It was enough, though, as he realized belatedly where he was.
  
   Despite the excruciating brightness of the white-washed walls, the room was relatively dim, the only light source coming from a small, standalone lamp in one corner rather than the fluorescent overheads. There remained, of course, the nauseatingly strong scent of disinfectant and variously strew machinery that was so common to every hospital room, but this one seemed... different, somehow. Before his sluggish mind could deduce why, however, he noticed a figure standing in the shadows the yellow glow did not quite reach, and immediately tensed; he instantly regretting the action, however, as fire flared through every muscle at the sudden movement. "Good; you're awake," a low, almost growling voice emerged from the dark corner as the lurker stepped forward.  The patient blinked and felt his mouth hang in surprise at what he saw, but quickly regained composure enough to scowl . Where was he? And what was some half-witted, poorly-dressed, outdated Batman impersonator doing in the room with him. "Now tell me," another step forward, "Who are you?" Now, he was right by his bedside, leaning over the side with a menacing glare. The man, however, had faced down scarier villains than his companion even had the guts to have nightmares before--and won--leaving little room for intimidation.
  
   "Who am I?" He shot back with a dirty look of his own. "Who the hell are you? And where am I?" He jerked the surprisingly-comfortable leather restraints for emphasis.
  
   The caped man, however, remained unfazed, and calmly replied, "You're in a hospital in Gotham City, and I find it quite hard to believe that you don't know who I am, considering you possess some very intimate knowledge regarding certain members of my team."
  
   He blinked, confused, "A hospital? Why am I in a hospital?" The world still the slightest bit foggy, he looked down and noticed for the first time that he was no longer in his own costume, and that his right arm was wrapped in thick gauze. From what he could feel, his head was wrapped, as well.
  
   Once again, his questions were answered with patience. "When you were found, you were delusional with a severe concussion and internal bleeding. You fell into a coma three days ago, and there was a doubt that you would even survive. Do you remember anything?" The man noticed that he was not asked his name again--maybe the imposter thought he had amnesia? He didn't care, becoming increasingly convinced that he was still dreaming. Three days? Impossible.
  
   "I was... in a warehouse; we were on a stakeou--" it then occurred to him that he should not be revealing anything to the stranger before him, and he cursed his slow-moving, injured brain. "I haven't lost my memory, if that's what you're implying." he snapped, trying to regain some control over the situation. "Why am I tied down? What's the big deal, here? Where are my clothes?" Slowly, panic began to rise in his chest--had he been taken hostage? Did they know who he was? "Where's Robin?" At his last demand, the other man's eyes narrowed dangerously.
  
   "You're tied down because you lapsed into violent, hallucinatory fits as an after effect of the fever that caused your body to shut down. It was for your own safety as much as the hospital staff's. Your... costume is being examined individually, the need only having presented itself after you made yourself a threat. As for my partner, you have no business with him, thus his whereabouts are of no concern to you."
  
   "Your partner? What are you, some kind of nut-job super-fan with no life? There's no way Robin could be with you, because--" Then, suddenly, the world crashed before his eyes, and the reason the hospital room seemed so off became clear: all of the equipment present--pixilated heart monitor, plastic-railed protective bed, hanging IV dripping from a clouded metal stand, black box-of-a-TV mounted to the wall--was so horribly outdated. Everything in the room hadn't been used for years in Gotham, all having been replaced by cheaper, more efficient models. And he had seen Wally. Not his Wally, but Kid Flash Wally. "Shit." With a groan, he fell back onto the crackly hospital pillows, before shooting up again, ignoring the wave of vertigo. "But then that makes you-- shit." Bruce.
  
   The man in front of him only raised an eyebrow at the young patient's odd behavior... not that anyone could tell, though.
  
  LINEBREAK
  
   "You're distracted," Black Canary stated with a frown as she dodged yet another careless hit from the Boy Wonder on the training pad. "Focus on the here and now; any rash decisions made in the heat of the moment could cost you or others your lives."
  
   "Well, no crap I'm distracted!" he exploded, throwing his hands in the air and giving a frustrated groan to the empty stone hall. Even so, he jumped to avoid his opponent's leg as it shot out to unbalance him. He was flustered, not stupid.
  
   While the rest of the Young Justice team had opted to take the day off and head to the Happy Harbor beach, Robin had decided to stay behind at the base, lost in his own thoughts--he had been doing a lot of that over the past few days. Eventually, though, his own looping mental paranoia became too much to handle, and, not wanting to spoil the day for his friends, he had called the team's combat mentor for a one-on-one sparring session in hopes that the fight would take his mind off the disturbing events prior. Still, that had proved a fruitless effort. All too soon, he was being pinned to the ground under the leather-clad woman, struggling and failing to overpower her. "Let's call it, shall we?" with that, she stood, offering a hand to the fallen boy. "There's not much more we can do without you hurting yourself." She only received a grunt in response as she helped him up before tossing a water bottle his way. "I know you're upset about your last mission--"
  
   "It's not the mission, and you know it," he sighed, defeated. There was no use holding everything in anymore--eventually, he was going to explode, and the last thing he wanted was all that pent up anger to be directed toward his friends, or, worse, his father. "Sorry." Black Canary only nodded with a small, reassuring smile, understanding, as they made their way back toward the kitchen, and waited for him to continue. "It's that... guy. He was dressed as Batman. That was just... weird."
  
   "But you've seen tons of people dressed up as your mentor countless times before. How many Halloweens, costume parties, TV shows and movies have you encountered over the years with impersonations both of you? Why is this so different?" she prodded, treading carefully as she slipped into therapy-mode. While she wanted to maintain a somewhat personal relationship with the young man, she also wanted him to know that she was someone to talk to even outside of their sessions. Trust seemed to be a key ingredient that both Bats were missing, the younger of the two having had a lack of faith in people drilled into him along with his training at an early age. It wasn't healthy for a teenager to harbor such unneeded angst.
  
   "Just... seeing him so hurt, so broken--even though I knew it wasn't really Batman, it was still disturbing to see... And, even creepier, he knew Wally's name. I mean, sure, the Flashes aren't as excessively secretive as me and Bats are, but it does make you wonder, you know? How much does this guy really know?" he sighed again, running a hand over his face and rubbing his tired eyes. He had not been able to sleep much in the past few days, and the constant fatigue was beginning to take its toll on him. "The whole thing is just strange."
  
   The blonde mentor nodded again, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I have absolute confidence that things will work out, Robin; you should have seen Batman when he got your call. With a man as protective as him looking out for you and the Team, nothing will be able to get to you. Besides, I know from experience that you five can handle yourselves." She smiled.
  
   In response, Robin gave a weak laugh and attempted to grin, "It's not us I'm worried about."
  
   Recognized: Kid Flash, B-03
  
   Any opportunity Black Canary had to ask for an explanation was swiped away as the rest of the Team began returning from their much-needed afternoon break.
  
   Recognized: Artemis, B-07
  
   "--going to kill you!" the blonde archer growled, lunging for a laughing Wally as he sped off, making sure to stay just out of her reach. This, of course, as intended, only served to frustrate Artemis more, and soon she was chasing her redheaded friend throughout the living area of the cave.
  
   Recognized: Aqualad, B-02
  
   "Artemis, please," Kaldur stated as soon as he stepped from the Zeta Transporter, immediately playing his default role as mediator between the two, "I am sure Wally meant no harm."
  
   Recognized: Superboy, B-04
  
   Recognized: Miss Martian, B-05
  
   "No harm? What are you, blind? He put me in a sandstorm. A goddamn sandstorm. Around me. While I was trying to get some homework done. How could that not annoy me?" She didn't even turn to look at their leader as she ground out the words, making another pass at the maniacal speedster. Upon closer inspection, Robin noticed that, yes, she was covered from head to toe in what could have been half of the beach itself. Black Canary cringed for the girl--it would be weeks before her mane of hair would be sand-free. As the two straggling members of the Team wandered in, oblivious to what was going on around them as they were so wrapped up in each other--it seemed that they were having a private mental conversation of some kind, but the Boy Wonder did not particularly care to find out what--Wally made the mistake of attempting to swerve around them, causing Artemis to crash into the Boy of Steel and subsequently fall flat on her back, Connor remaining completely unaffected though a bit stunned at the sudden contact. It was, however, only a minor setback for the fiery girl, and soon she was back in the chase. "My English book will never be the same, you moron!" she screeched, "I am going to end you."
  
   The leather-clad combat mentor sighed, grinning, sure that it was only a matter of time before Artemis made a run for her bow and quiver. If she did, though, things would quickly get messy, and she wanted to avoid any sort of falling out--no matter how small--among the group as much as possible. Even though it seemed that life had returned to some relative level of normalcy after the Team's failed training exercise, she knew that it was only a front. Tensions had further heightened between the teenagers with the arrival of the mysterious Batman imposter, and the clock was slowly ticking down to what was shaping up to be an inevitable explosion.

  LINEBREAK
  
   There was no way this was actually happening. Yes, he had considered the possibility that it could happen, but he had never gone so far as to think that it really would. And yet, here he was--and there he was, looming in front of him in that endearingly threatening way that only Batman--the real Batman--could. Part of him wanted to jump from the uncomfortable bed and leap into his arms, crying, happy to be able to see him again. Another, far more rational side recognized that he would have to tread carefully from then on, however. It was more than likely that he had already managed to change things by simply existing in that moment, and he silently cursed himself for being so stupid, so careless. No, he did not regret protecting Robin; his sidekick was still only a child, and he would have had no idea what to do in such a situation. He did, however, want to give himself a hard kick for any significant information that might have passed over his concussion-based, loose lips. The world around him was still a bit hazy, and attempting to remember anything from the last few days tilted the room on an axis, his mind begging him to move on to simpler topics. Now realizing the full extent of just what he had gotten himself into, the man switched tactics and prayed that his acting skills had improved significantly over the year--he never had been able to lie to the Bat when he had been younger.
  
   He squinted and gulped, willing a frightened expression across his features; it was not particularly hard to fake, simply because he was, in a sense, very afraid at the moment. Pushing down panic with more drama than was necessary, he stuttered, "Whoa, man... whoa, whoa, whoa... This isn't part of the game anymore, is it?" He shook his head in feigned disbelief.
  
   "I'm afraid not," came Bruce's bemused--and somewhat relieved--response. Still, though, he refused to let his guard down. Despite not showing it, he knew the man was hiding something. There was the faintest of twinges at his lower left eyelid as he spoke, something that only the World's Greatest Detective could have picked out and honed in on. Even so, he played along.
  
   "So you're the real Batman?"
  
   "Yes." At this, the man gave a whistle, before paling.
  
   "What happened to the others? Are they here, too?"
  
   "Others?"
  
   "Well, yeah-- you can't stage an epic role-playing game with just one person," came the shrugged response. Even that little movement was painful, however, and he winced.
  
   Again, Batman's eyebrows rose, unseen. So he was one of those kids--the number one fans who thought that being a vigilante was something to aspire to be. Still, he was skeptical. "How many of you were there?"
  
   "Overall? I don't know, sir," the man replied, before he internally grimaced at his slipup. Sir. He had been around the cloaked man for five minutes, and already he was slipping back into his old ways. "With me, though? Just two of my friends," he hesitated, making it look as though he were trying to remember their names, when in reality he was running through any names he might have mentioned while in his feverish state. Unfortunately, he could only remember one, and he hoped for the best with the only other name that came to mind, mentally giving a small, sobered grin as he gauged the other man's reaction. Really, though, he simply could not resist, even though it was his concussion rather than common sense that seemed to be in charge at the moment. "Wally and Dick."
  
   Batman, however, gave no indication that the nomenclatures rang any sort of bells, upholding the ruse. "Where did you last see them?"
  
   "I... I don't really know; everything's all sort of messed up in my head," he groaned for effect. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized that they were both simply playing each other, each knowing something that the other man in the room did not. He had been a fool to think that he would ever outmatch the Bat--especially in his current state--and he knew that. Still, though, he could not pass up an opportunity to prove himself in some way; though to whom--himself or the man standing above him--he was not sure.
  
   "Would you like me to call a nurse?" His voice was gruff and clipped: a sure sign that he was losing patience with the situation evident only to someone who knew him.
  
   "No, no; I'm fine," he sighed, waving off the older man, a worried expression masking his features. "What happened?"
  
   "We're not sure; I was hoping you could tell me. I can't help you at all, though, if you won't tell me who you are." Over the course of their conversation, Batman had become less of a menacing Dark Knight demanding answers and more of an incessantly broody man being forced to help against his will; a welcome change for the other man in the room. When he asked that same question for the second time that evening, it wasn't intended to inspire cowering fear, but it still came out as more of a demand than anything.
  
   Suddenly, the incapacitated man began to panic. What was he supposed to answer? All of his go-to aliases would tip off the older man to who he really was, ultimately causing even more problems, and there was no way he could give his real name. That, without a doubt, would end in a complete and utter disaster--heavy on the dis--that could potentially result in the hospital exploding. He wasn't sure how, but he just knew that something like that might happen. So, he avoided the question, buying his time. "What day is it?"
  
   Again, the Caped Crusader gave no hint that he was caught off guard by the sudden topic change, hopefully--to the man, at least--writing it off as more crazy ramblings thanks to his head injury. Even to his own, still-ringing ears, though, the less-than-tactful elusion was painfully obvious. "Sunday, November 14, 2010," comes the automatic response, and the man quickly does the math in his head. The Team had just begun, then--and it was only a few weeks after their first major mishap. He silently cursed and thanked whatever watched over him, coming to some kind of conclusion and hoping the best would come from the situation. On one hand, he could easily access a plethora of other identities that no one here had even begun to encounter, but, on the other, if his true nature came to light, things would reach a whole new level of catastrophe.
  
   Outwardly, he took the new information in stride, pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary and responding with an absent nod. "Tim-- my name's Tim..." he trailed off purposely, realizing that, if he gave a last name, Batman would be able to trace it, discover his lies, and shut down his cover before five minutes had even passed.
  
   "Do you remember your last name?" It was time to play up that amnesiac card, as much as he hated it.
  
   "No," he shook his head, appearing frustrated. "Ugh!"
  
   "Can you remember your friends' last names?"
  
   "...No," again, even to him it sounded weak. Damn, he was slipping, and he hadn't even gotten to the tricky part yet. In the uncomfortable pause that followed, Batman scrutinized him, trying to decide something--just what, however, the man was not quite sure... or even if he really wanted to know.
  
   Suddenly, a gloved hand swooped up to a cowled comm.-link, and the injured man was no longer top priority. For now. "This is Batman; proceed." Even through the mask, the man lying abed could see his eyes narrow and his mouth form a thin scowl. Something was wrong. "Are you sure?" Pause. "Anything else?" Pause. Nod. "Batman out." Suddenly, the Dark Knight returned, full force; despite being a tad startled at the abrupt change, though, the man remained unfazed. It had been a while since he had last been intimidated by the Bat.
  
   Before he could say anything, though, the man cut in, his concussed brain running away with his mouth before he could stop it. "That was the Justice League--is something wrong?"
  
   His words did nothing to help his case--though against what, he really wasn't sure--as Batman, once again, began looming and ignored his question. "I now have all the more reason to believe that you are lying to me, Tim," he spat menacingly, rekindling his view toward the other man as a criminal, and, thus, switching his persona to the less human-like side designed to strike fear into the hearts of lawbreakers. "When you are cleared by the hospital staff, you will be transferred to a secure location for questioning." Just how much trouble was he in, anyway? And what had the call been about? The man simply sat there, more confused than frightened, still one step behind his superior's. Stupid concussion. "You have made yourself a threat in more ways than one, and we do not take that lightly." On that final note, he glided from the room with a swoosh, the dark folds of his cape leaving in their wake a stunned young man. Things were going downhill fast, and he struggled to think of a new plan of attack as he absentmindedly scratched at the crimson-stained bandages on his right arm. Funny, he didn't ever remember cutting himself on anything.

  LINEBREAK
  
   When Red Tornado entered the living area of Mount Justice to deliver a message, he was not surprised--if androids such as himself even had the capacity to comprehend such a complex emotion--to find the five teens in the semi-normal state of chaos that seemed to follow the little group like an adorably annoying stray puppy. Artemis, still attempting to tackle the young speedster to the ground, was now being slowly trailed by Kaldur in an attempt to cool her anger. M'gann, ever the worrier, had joined in, trying to convince Wally to stop provoking her and slow down for a moment, and Connor, unable to stand the disorder any longer, had wandered into the kitchen in an effort to keep his frustrated temper in check. Robin and Black Canary, standing side-by-side off in one corner of the room, watched the entire exchange with matching smirks across their lips, one debating on whether or not to step in, and the other on various ways to make the situation even worse than it already was. Knowing that there was no way to gain the attention of all members of the Team at once, the robot simply nodded in recognition toward the two heroes leaning on the cusp of the madness, before joining them.
  
   "Batman has just contacted me with another mission assignment. He wishes to see the Team in the monitor room, fully outfitted, as soon as possible." His metallic voice relayed, earning raised eyebrows from both.
  
   "Thanks, Red," Canary replied, nodding, before turning to survey the scene before her, trying to figure out the best way possible to round the group up with as little injury as possible. The decision was quickly made for her, however, as a black wire suddenly shot out from somewhere to her side, heading straight for the red blur buzzing around the room. Robin's grappling hook loosely wrapped his best friend's legs, effectively tripping him face down on the plush rug. It was only a matter of seconds before the two others toppled over the fallen boy, with M'gann hovering worriedly above them, asking if everyone was alright.
  
   Before another argument could start, Robin took advantage of the stunned silence. "Bats has a job for us, guys. Let's suit up." The mood clouding the room immediately changed, and soon the five teens--including Connor, who had caught the announcement from the kitchen area with his super-hearing--morphed from rowdy adolescents to heroes-in-training.
  
   That, however, did not stop Wally from slugging his best friend in the shoulder as the group quickly made their way toward their respective rooms to change, and playfully whining, "C'mon, Rob, why so violent? That hurts, man," with a dramatic shake of his head.
  
   Within minutes, the costumed vigilantes were gathered around the holographic screens of the cave's technological center, staring at the screens as their leader briefed them on what was happening. "Our mystery man has regained consciousness," he began, causing several members of the Young Justice to tense--namely Robin, Wally, and M'gann, who had been most disturbed by the events of three nights ago. "But what story I managed to pull from him was inconsistent. Though he outwardly does not seem to intend any harm, the Flash's initial analysis of his Batsuit imitation revealed otherwise."
  
   He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in--and giving Connor the opportunity to ask, "Why the Flash?"
  
   "My uncle's a forensic scientist," Wally answered proudly, "figuring out what things are is his job."
  
   Batman continued as though he had not been interrupted. "The outfit is an uncannily accurate, though somewhat modified, representation of my own--weapons included--leading to the conclusion that he has had access to exclusively sensitive information regarding myself. Given his obvious knowledge of your secret identity, Kid Flash, he may have been watching the whole Team for quite some time. As of yet, however, I have been unable to uncover just how much he really knows, or what his plans are with such information. He is still slightly impaired by the head injuries sustained by unknown causes, but he is being released into the Justice League's care shortly."
  
   "Has he revealed his own name?" Kaldur asked, a concentrative scowl on his face as he processed the information.
  
   "No, I was only able to acquire a false first name during my initial questioning--he is at least coherent to that extent."
  
   "Where do we come in, though?" Robin stepped forward, not really liking the direction toward which the conversation was headed.
  
   "Yeah, Red said you had a mission for us," Wally added, oblivious to his almost-brother's worry.
  
   "This will as a tactical training experience for you," the Dark Knight responded. "Because this man poses an assumed immediate threat to both you and the League, I will bring him to a secure location for a more extensive interrogation. Thus far, all discipline has been focused toward the physical side of your work. In the future, you will require other skills to obtain information you require to bring down villains of different sorts rather than simply violence. Watching the process of cross-examination will prove both an educational and informative exposure for the Team."
  
   Robin and Aqualad nodded in understanding, while their fellow sidekicks visibly deflated at the inevitable lack of action involved. Obviously, smirked the Boy Wonder internally, they've never seen Batman's version of interrogation. "Where are you taking him?" he asked, "Assuming we should meet you there."
  
   "I am coming to you," the Bat responded to the shocked teens. "As a former headquarters of the League, the cave is well equipped with a fully operational interrogation room. I would have assumed that you would have explored that area of the mountain by now." M'gann shrugged sheepishly as all eyes turned to her.
  
   "I didn't think the room served any purpose, so I didn't think to mention it."
  
   "This is the Justice League," Artemis rolled her eyes, "everything they do has some reason or another behind it."
  
   Ignoring his teammates, Robin asked his mentor, "But Mount Justice is supposed to be in a secret location--how is he going to get here?"
  
   "Your hideout is not as hidden as you would like to believe," Batman replied, "But, as a precaution, I will bring him through the Zeta Tubes directly from the Hall of Justice. It's a public location, and he will not be able to determine where we are headed thanks to the scrambled method of transport."
  
   "Makes sense," his protégé nodded.
  
   "When should we be expecting you to arrive?" Kaldur was already mentally retrieving the rooms location from their Martian friend as he asked, planning ahead as any good Team leader would.
  
   "In a matter of minutes."
  
   "We shall await your entrance in the viewing room of the interrogation suite."
  
   "Batman out."
  
   As the monitors shut off, the Team exchanged glances containing various degrees of annoyance and worry. This was not how they had planned to spend their Thanksgiving week off: still in school. It was, however, a necessary evil, and soon the five were making their way down the cavernous, seemingly-endless dark halls of the mountain toward their destination. "I wonder how many other secret spots are hidden in this place..." Wally wondered aloud, skipping ahead of his friends.
  
   "It wasn't exactly hard to find, Baywatch--no one but M'gann ever bothered to look, that's all," Artemis retorted with yet another scoff and roll of her eyes.
  
   "Hey, Rob; you've been here tons of times, even before us. Any cool places I haven't seen?" the redhead asked excitedly, granting the archer only a juvenile stuck-out tongue as the only response to the otherwise-ignored young archer.
  
   The Boy Wonder thought for a moment, "Well, there's the--"
  
   Recognized: Batman, 02
  
   Recognized: Robin, B-01
  
   Everyone came to a screeching halt, eyes turning toward the little black haired boy in front of them. Robin was right there, so who was...
  
   And then all hell broke loose.