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Robin was stumbling now, struggling to keep his feet under him. Exhausted and injured both. Still ahead of the pack of men as he twisted around corner after corner in the tangle of alleyways and courtyards, but not for much longer. They’d knocked his grapple gun from his hands early in the chase, grounded him. Now it was just a matter of time.
Marco slowed to a leisurely stroll as he rounded the latest corner, giving himself a chance to catch his breath. He knew something Robin didn’t. This turn wouldn’t take him anywhere but a dead end, nowhere to hide. The change of pace traveled like a ripple, the men behind him bunching up as they slammed on the brakes.
No rush now.
They arrived in time to see Robin stop and spin around, the brick wall at his back as he turned to face his pursuers. Marco never got tired of that moment. His prey realizing all that struggling to get away had been for nothing in the end.
Marco spun the staff in his hands as he approached. It'd be a nice little prize to take home. Robin had caught him with a couple good hits earlier in the night, and now he could return the favor with his own weapon. Poetic justice, almost.
Robin had a shoulder propped against the wall, keeping the weight off one foot as he heaved for breath. Maybe something broken, but probably not, the way he’d kept running on it so long.
Well, he’d hit his limit now.
The others were spreading out to fill the space around him, some closing in on Robin with little darts and flinches of mock attack. Circling wolves, testing how close the deer was to dropping before moving in for the kill. There didn't seem to be any fight left in him.
Marco gave the staff one more spin for dramatic effect before winding up for the hit like a batter.
“Wait—wait, wait, wait.” The words came out as a rushed, breathless gasp.
Robin had raised one arm as if to hold off the blow, the other still braced tight around his ribs. Marco paused for just a second, grinning. Enjoying the moment.
“Wanna beg for your life, birdie?”
A couple of the men around him laughed.
“Not—exactly,” Robin panted. He sucked in a deeper breath, then pulled himself up straighter. “Wanna see a cool trick?”
“What?” It startled a laugh out of Marco. “And here I heard this one was less of a comedian than the last couple.” He spread his arms wide, playing to the amused crowd. “By all means, entertain us.”
Robin was all out of tricks. They all knew it. Any defense or distractions he had he’d used up over the course of the fight and the chase that followed. Now he was just stalling.
Robin’s expression crumpled, slowly and then all at once. He sagged against the wall like his strings had been cut. His raised hand dropped, curling in close against the other one around his ribs in a pathetic attempt at self-comfort. He looked a lot younger than he had just a minute ago.
“I—I can’t. I need help. Please.” Robin’s voice wavered just a little.
Marco shook his head, baffled. “A-plus for acting class, I guess. You think we’re gonna feel sorry for you?”
And just like that, all the wavering fear and vulnerability dropped away. Robin’s chin tipped up, his face hard and defiant again.
“Nah. You might want to think about running, though, or you’ll be feeling pretty sorry for yourselves in a minute.”
The grin the kid gave him then was positively feral, all teeth and vicious satisfaction.
What in the actual hell.
Well, if Robin had taken enough hits to the head to shake a few screws loose, he was about to earn himself a few more to knock the sense back into him.
This time the windup had Robin flinching, just a little. Bracing himself. Finally taking things seriously, now that he knew his time was up. No room left to dodge.
Marco never actually saw who got him first, Batman or Red Hood. It felt like a freight train, dropping straight from the sky.
He managed to get up again a bit later, while they were busy with someone else, a blur of chaos around him. His legs weren’t exactly working right (none of him was working right) but he had a vague idea that he had to get out of here. Everyone was yelling.
Then a hand caught his arm and his face renewed its acquaintance with the pavement. Except faster, this time. He thought that one was probably Batman. The swoosh of cape was a hint.
The next time he was aware of his surroundings, it was quieter. Relatively speaking. A chorus of distant sirens, but that was typical Gotham background noise. Intermittent groaning much closer by.
Lots of pain, but that wasn’t so much noise as just… everywhere. A lot. Drowning out everything else.
Maybe the Bats had just left when they were through?
Could always hope.
Marco tried to sit up to look around, but his arms weren’t—oh. They were cuffed behind him, weren’t they.
He heaved himself onto his side with a whimpering groan. The kid… had not been wrong. He was feeling pretty sorry for himself now. Was gonna be for a while, by the feel of it.
Robin was standing nearby, leaning on his staff like a crutch to keep weight off his bad foot. So the Bats hadn’t left. The alleyway was lit up in the flickering red and blue of police cruiser lights.
Marco’s movement drew Robin’s eye. He glanced down, casual and unconcerned, before turning his attention back to the far end of the alley. He was smiling a bit. Marco squinted against the lights to make out Batman standing there, talking to a couple of the cops.
“Didn't think I'd gotten close enough to his route for both of them to make it in time,” Robin remarked. Then he looked down at Marco again and held up one gloved hand, nodding at it. “Backup comm in the cuff. Cool trick, huh?”
Marco wondered, in a hazy and distant way, which part was really the acting. The scared kid, or the obnoxious little punk just begging someone to teach him a lesson and wipe that smirk off his face.
There was one thing he really didn’t get, though.
“Thought Hood hated your guts,” he mumbled.
“Old news,” Robin told him. “You need better sources.”
Speak of the devil. There was a thump and crunch of heavy boots against gravel, no attempt at stealth, and that distinctive red helmet came into view. The unreadable faceplate tipped in his direction. Marco would’ve curled up preventively, if he could’ve moved that much. Not that it would’ve done him any good.
“This guy still have enough juice to be mouthing off?”
“Nah. Just filling him in on the breaking news. Seems he was under the impression you don't like me very much.”
Hood stepped closer. Marco watched his approach helplessly, like a mouse in front of a cat. Or like a worm looking at… a really big person about to stomp it into sidewalk jelly.
Hood crouched down beside him. Then he drew a gun. Marco flinched and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Well. Now you know better.” That mechanized voice distorter made him sound positively inhuman, despite the almost gentle quietness of the words. “And if I hear you’ve been so much as thinking about coming after Robin again, all that shit Batman likes to say about keeping bullets out of people’s brains might just slip my mind. Again.”
The barrel of the gun tapped lightly against Marco’s forehead for emphasis. But Hood didn’t pull the trigger. Yet.
“Got it?”
Marco’s eyes cracked open, still not trusting the reprieve. He would’ve nodded, but he didn’t quite dare move that much.
“G-got it.” Hood’s head tipped just a fraction to one side and Marco added hastily, “Mr. Hood. Sir. I got it. Kid’s off-limits.”
Hood snorted, an explosive crackle of sound through the helmet’s distorter. “Good. I’d say that I’d hate to have to make an example of you, but really…” He shrugged. “I get bored, sometimes.”
Hood withdrew the gun, then, and returned it to its holster. He gave Marco a pat on the cheek that was closer to a slap and rose to his feet, turning to give Robin a measuring look.
“You gonna be able to walk to the car, or d’you want the full princess treatment now that we’ve rescued your distressed ass?”
Robin gave him a look any sad-eyed puppy might envy. “Carry me?”
“As you wish.”
Before Robin could so much as twitch, Hood swept him up in his arms. Robin yelped, the staff swinging wildly as he flailed, ricocheting off Hood’s helmet. Hood was unmoved.
“Put me—I was joking, Hood, put me down!”
“Too late. You asked for it, you’re gonna get it.”
The last thing Marco heard as the world faded out again was Robin's laughter echoing off the alley walls.