fh_trips | Saturday: Nemesis Island

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bde fall 2008: nemesis island

Saturday: Nemesis Island

It's amazing how different the atmosphere changes once you cross over the causeway to Nemesis island. True, it might be the same temperature and all but just setting foot on the island can give you goosebumps.

And if you meet up with of the residents here you might attacked for no good reason.

Which, sadly, is the slogan of the local tourism board.

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Okay, batarangs? Hurt. But as soon as Speedy got hit he whipped around in the direction the batarangs had come from, arrow at the ready, looking around for red and green.

It didn't occur to him to look up.

Robin wasn't going to let a chance like that go to waste. He leaped from the tree, fired his grapple at another branch, and swung towards Speedy with a two-footed kick.

Speedy whirled toward the sound of the grapple firing and shot the line out.

"Crap!" Robin yelled. Fortunately he knew how to fall from fairly high distances without going splat on the ground.

Unfortunately, it still hurt when he landed. But he was pretty sure nothing was broken but his grapple line.

Now Speedy knew where Robin was, and could shoot at him again.

So he did.

Robin rolled away from the arrow, which took a bit out of his cape. He rose to a crouch and threw another batarang aimed at Speedy's hands. "Thanks for not using pointy arrows. I appreciate it."

Speedy got his hands out of the way, since they were kind of critical, but the batarang glanced off his (well-armored) chest. "You're welcome," he said bitterly, rubbing the place the batarang had hit. That was going to sting when he wasn't high. "Why are you even doing this? Why do you care?"

"We're not all that different, so if you don't care, I guess I'm the next best person for the job," Robin said, ducking behind a tree. He was still shaken up from that fall. At this range, he wasn't sure he could dodge an arrow without first taking cover.

"Oh, that's nice," Speedy said. "Hide." He pulled another arrow from his quiver and started stalking, bow at the ready, toward the tree Robin had hidden behind. "What are you gonna do? Take my stash? We both know I'll just get more."

"Well, right now I'm hoping you feel ashamed of yourself for attacking somebody twice for trying to help and decide to check yourself into rehab or something," Dick said, dropping three smoke pellets on the ground. It was going to be harder for Speedy to hit what he couldn't see.

Of course, it went both ways. If Speedy couldn't see Robin, Robin couldn't see Speedy.

"I don't want your help. It's not like it matters anyway. There's always gonna be another dealer. Always gonna be another junkie. What's one more?"

"One more is everything. Look at what you're wearing, man," Robin said. "If you didn't think that, why do you even have that costume?"

Robin was trained in the dark. He could easily maneuver in a cloud of smoke. He moved around the tree, attempting to flank Speedy. Okay, the talking probably didn't make it as stealthy as he'd prefer, but he was convinced that the talking between attacks was where he might make some headway, so it was worth the risk.

Speedy shot an arrow at where he thought Robin might be.

It probably wasn't.

Robin saw a vague shade of the arrow go past his right side. Speedy was still way too close with those things despite the smoke, and that wasn't going to hold up much longer. He continued closing in, a batarang in hand. "If you weren't high, you would've beaten me at least three times by now." Robin didn't believe that at all, but it sounded good. "Why are you wasting everything? Your skills, the opportunity to help people?"

"None of it matters. Who gives a damn, anyway?" Not Ollie, that was for damn sure.

Speedy pulled another arrow out of his quiver and frowned as he nocked it to his bow. Oh, great. The boxing glove arrow. "Come out, come out, wherever you are, Boy Wonder."

"Behind you," Robin said from a couple feet behind Speedy. He noticed the smoke starting to lift, so he made a point to drop his batarang, hoping that Speedy could see it. "Shoot if you want. Just know that I wouldn't be willing to take an arrow from close range unless I gave a damn."

Speedy turned to him. "It's a boxing glove arrow, dumbass."

"Hey, it's still pretty smokey," Robin said in his own defense. "Also, it'll still hurt a lot. Launched from a bow at this range, it could easily give me a concussion."

"Might even break your nose," Speedy said thoughtfully.

"Or, it could give me a concussion. Don't gloss over that fact, okay?" Robin asked. "Still, you see me? Unarmed? Not moving? After I had the drop on you? Does that look like not giving a damn?"

"What's a concussion between friends?" Speedy said. "You're in the business, so it's not like you're not already brain-damaged."

Yes, he was stalling. Because he knew something he was hoping Robin hadn't noticed yet: if he'd pulled the boxing glove, that meant he was fresh out of arrows.

"So it means nothing to you. Then why haven't you fired yet?" Robin thought he might be getting through. He totally hadn't noticed the lack of arrows yet.

"Maybe I don't want Bats coming after me when you have to explain why you need a nose job."

"Maybe that's a lame excuse," Robin said. He took a step forward for dramatic effect. And from this range he couldn't help but notice that he didn't actually see any more arrows in Speedy's quiver. They could have been hiding behind his head, but that seemed unlikely. "This is Batman. He'd express disappointment in me for not doing the job better, then tell me that he appreciated that I tried. But he'd leave the coming after you to me."

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