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OTHER for Tracy by MerrickM
BAM! POW! CLANG! Robin, behind you!" "Got it!" SKREE! CLUSH! CLUSH! CLUSH! WOOSH! SPIGON! WOOSH! CREM! BLEE! BANG! "Well, that's the last of them for now." "There'll be more later." "As long as they're not any tougher than these guys. Though the next wave, maybe *I* should lead the charge." "How do you figure?" "Look. It's nothing personal. I have vast Kryptonian superpowers and a tactile telekinesis field. You have a stick." "Where's the 'tele?'" "What?" "You keep saying tactile telekinesis. There is no tele. It's just tactile." ". . . You know, that's actually a good point. I never- look out!" DING! DING! WHOMP! "Kon! On your left!" SMASH! CRASH! SQUICK! SQUEE! "Is it just me, or is this battle making some really weird noises." "You're just not used to your super hear- AAA!" WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! "Tim, I think you got it. You can stop hitting the thing any time now." "Yeah. Right. Sorry." "Hey, uh, Rob, you okay?" "I'm fine." "You're kind of quivering a bit." "Fine. Really." "No, I don't think you are. Look, Rob, you've gone through a lot this past month. I can't imagine what it's like for you-" "Good point." "Shut up. But when I found out about my. . . heritage, you were there for me. And you told me that someday you'd have a problem and I'd be there for you. Look, we haven't even really talked about-" "Because I don't want to talk about it." "But you should. You can't just bottle this all up." "Maybe I'm not bottling it up. Maybe there's nothing to bottle. Maybe I'm empty." "Rob? Tim?" ". . . dad. . . Darla. . . Steph. . ." "Woah. I've got you. I've got you." ". . .God. . ." "I'm here, buddy." "Oh great. This is real professional." "Just let it out." "I'm having a mini-breakdown in the middle of a raid on an enemy compound. Batman would kill me." "No, no, this is good. Let it all out. Good for you. Catharsis." "Big word, Conner. I'm impressed." "See? Sense of humor intact. And shut up." "I can't believe I did that. Gotta stay strong. Can't buckle." "You're not him, you know. Much more colorful, for one. You can buckle sometimes." "You know, they say, when tragedy hits. . . that you're desperate for a reason and you can't find one. That it just doesn't seem to make sense. But it does. It makes perfect sense." "Yeah?" "Look. It's like. In the Bible. Book of Isaiah. The big moment of revelation. 'Holy, holy, holy is Yahweh of the armies.' The word that gets translated as 'holy'? It means 'other'. Yahweh is other, other, other. That's why you should worship him. Now, that's kind of the best way to describe what I felt, the first time I saw Bat-" "Woah, woah. Are you comparing Batman to God?" "No!" "Tim, are you saying you worship Batman?" "No! No. I- Hey! Over there!" THONK! "Cause, I mean, I think Supes is the coolest guy in the world, but-" "It's an analogy! A poor one, maybe. But the point. The point is. The first time I saw him, the night the Flying- the night Nightwing's parents were killed- I was three years old. But I remember it. So clearly. He was other. Not part of this world. Part of some different world entirely. I knew it then. And I was changed. After that night, for the next decade there was a longing in me, a yearning for that other world. Like a piece of me had gone there and was calling to the rest of me. And then, when I was thirteen, I found him and made him change me. Made him make me like him. Make me part of his world. And he did. I wasn't like regular people anymore. I was different. I was other. And then. . . when Bru- when Batman's world and the world that used to be mine came crashing together, I had to choose. I choose the old world. The world I was born into. But I couldn't. I had been changed. And when I tried to leave Batman's world behind, it wouldn't let me go. Got jealous. Got spiteful. And that world struck out at the people I loved and punished me for trying to leave it. So here I am. Back. Being what I am now. Being what I've become." "Timothy Drake, I do not believe I have ever in my life heard you say so much at one time." "Yeah. Sorry." "No, it's cool. And you were emoting too. You were emoting like woah." "Okay, great. Confessional over. Can we go back to fighting the cyberwhatevers now?" "Yeah, there's probably another wave due right around- yikes!" "Those are bigger than the other ones." "Yes they are." "Okay. On my mark- go!" BIF! FOOM! KOOSH! "Go for the jugular! The jugular!" THWICK! KREKK! ZING! EXPLODIATE! "Yeah! Tactile. . . kinesis. Gets 'em every time." TANG! BORP! "And you made fun of my staff." "We're getting closer to the goods. If the schematics Bart stole are right." "So, hey, Kon, did you read those Preacher comics I lent you." "Oh, yeah. They were great. Primo stuff. Rev. Jesse, what a man. Except-" "Except?" "Oh, it's nothing. Just I've been trying to think more like Superman, lately. Since I've got to get ready be Superman, someday. I mean. If I don't become. You know." "*sigh* Kon. You are not going to become Luthor. And you don't *have* to become Superman, either." "Whatever. My point being, I don't think Superman would have liked all the cursing. And the ultra-violence. There were a whole lot of grievous head wounds in that comic. The only other thing is, this kind of comic book, it's *cool* and all, but it's just that the market is totally saturated with these things. I mean. The comic shops are just flooded with stuff like this, harder for something a little different to worm its way in." "A valid point." "Wouldn't it rock if they made comic books about superheroes? Guys like us." "Yeah. That would be cool. But as long we're delving into one another's personal lives, can we talk about this whole "I'm going to become Superman or Lex" thing? Because I don't think that's healthy. You were just telling me how I don't have to be Batman." "You weren't born to be Batman, Rob. The vast majority of your life is not implanted memories designed to prepare you to be Batman. And you don't *want* to be Batman. You've said it dozens of times. Me, Superman, my destiny. . . I want it. More than I want anything else." "Then someday you'll take it. You know you're capable. And I think Superman knows it too." "I hope s- TIM!" KARANG! BOFF! BLEEP! CRUSH! CRUJNCH! FOOP! GONG! SPOOT! POIT! KABOOM! "Think that's the last of them." "Yeah. Mission accomplished, little buddy." "Should be behind this door. Kon?" RIP! "Aha! The merchandise!" "Be careful. Those things are valuable." "They'd better be valuable, after what we just went through." "Damnit." "What?" "There are only 39. The bad guys stole 40." "That's terrible. And how did you count them so fast?" "You have superpowers. I count things." "Fair enough." "So I guess we got to rip this place apart some more for the last stolen super-doohickey. It's our duty." "Because we are other, other, other?" "Damn straight. Let's go."
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