(no subject)

[kingofbrain.livejournal.com]

(This scene is a continuation of events from this scene.)

When Brainwave appeared, it was like something out of Beirut, or Iraq.

Or Kahndaq.

He knew the television feed went down, but there were dozens of reports at a "safe distance" away, still scribbling furiously.

And a warehouse was on fire and no one was doing anything about it.

He reached out.  This entire area had Mr. Mind's psychic stench all over it, but it was so pervasive that he wasn't sure if there was current mind control or not, or if Psimon was still in the vicinity.

No doubt, he needed some assistance.  He looks around, and notices a red-hooded figure.   He recognizes her as Omen, the Titans resident telepath.

And she looks...intent.  

Trying to be as subtle as possible, Brainwave attempts to find what exactly is going on.

Comments

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Inside what's left of S.T.A.R., Nightwing is coming to in a pool of glass and blood.

The first thing he can register is pain. So much pain. His ribs on the left side ache. His face aches. His head is pounding, fogged. It takes an effort just to open his eyes.

Glass skitters off his body as he moves - slowly - to a sitting position, and looks around.

Wait. What...

And then his eyes fall on the body of the Batman beside him.

No. This was no nightmare. He didn't -- he couldn't have -- could he? Icicles form in his gut. What has he done? What has he led the Titans to do?

He shifts carefully, reaching out to lay a hand on the Bat's shoulder, his voice harsh in the foreboding silence.

Batman...

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

The cape, cowled figure lying face down in the glass does not respond, does not move. It looks altogether too much like a body.

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

His throat and mouth are suddenly dry. More glass slides off him as he leans over. A rising swell of nausea surges within. He grips his shoulder a little more tightly.

Bruce...

His voice cracks. God, no. Not like this.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

A soft groan indicates the man is still alive. Not much else, at least for a long five seconds, then...

"Dick."

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

That's a start, right? Why doesn't he feel any relief? His body feels like a rock.

Oh, God -- I'm sorry, I'm sorry --

He crawls just far enough away from him, and throws up.

It's not from the concussion.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

The man has yet to move, coughing a bit while his son shows an extreme reaction to the stress of what just happened, but, in his typical business-minded way, he tries to hiss facts once Nightwing's gagging is done. "Mind control," he mumbles against the floor. "Not your fault."

His mind, at least, is working.

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Facts don't change that he was the one who dealt the blow. He stares at the floor on all fours, trying to find the will to move.

He hasn't slept. He's barely eaten. He's just floored his father in a move he'd never dream of executing.

Who's fault is it? Nobody's but his own, for letting himself get sucked in. And now, he's not even sure he can continue to lead the Titans. Doesn't know what damage they've done elsewhere, doesn't want to think about the irreperable loss that has happened. His hands come up to his head, hands balling into fistfuls of his hair as if to tear it out at the roots.

No, he croaks. ... God, what have I done?

He's losing it.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

Face down on the floor, a near-hysterical hero beside him, Batman takes a few breaths and then snaps with as much of his Dark Knight snarl as he can muster, "Get...a....GRIP...jackass."

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

His whole frame shudders for a moment, his face obscured.

Get a fucking hold of yourself, Grayson. Jesus. Bruce needs... God, he needs help. The others need help.

He doesn't know if he can do it.

Slowly, he unfurls, and comes back to sit heavily beside the Dark Knight.

Need to... get us to the Watchtower.

Not "you". Us. Maybe that's a bad idea. He doesn't know anymore. All his ideas lately seem to suck.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

"Dick."

Some deep breaths help. A leg twitches; movement is good, right?

"Not your name. Your attitude."

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Moving hurts. Everything hurts. Light is probably getting off on this.

He's too worn out right now to care.

And it hurts too much to laugh. Oh, God. He shouldn't laugh. His reply is still shaken, but nowhere near as hysterical.

Learned from the best, didn't I?

He activates his comms.

Nightwing to Watchtower. Two to come up to sickbay, one severely injured...

My fault. This is all my fault.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

"Get...."

What, the fallen taser, the batarang, the glass from his cheek, what?

"A hold of yourself. NOW."

He's still trying to shake Dick out of this hysteria.

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

He snaps, irritated suddenly.

I'm TRYING. Goddammit, I just broke y--

He cuts himself off. There's no point in arguing about it. Not now. But it doesn't change anything.

The familiar pull of the transporter beam envelopes them both.

[midnite-md.livejournal.com]

Dr. Mid-Nite is on call and waiting to receive the severely injured as they teleport up, and he wastes no time.

"Tell me what happened."

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

They both look, for lack of better words, like hell. Nightwing's face is covered in blood - mostly his own, from three gashes to the right side. Batman is in worse shape, lying on his front.

He's not quite the man he used to be. Neither of them are.

I... his back. His back, I think it's broken...

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

"Give...Junior here...a sedative," grunts the Dark Knight. "Grownups need to talk."

[midnite-md.livejournal.com]

Mid-Nite doesn't really respond to either remark.

"Arisia, would you please create a stretcher underneath Batman so we can transport him without doing further damage to his spine?"

[elfinlantern.livejournal.com]

"Yes, sir."

Arisia is dressed up as a nurse at the moment, instead of a red cross on the uniform, a Green Lantern Corps symbol is present.

A glowing green stretcher comes to being beneath Batman, cradling him and lessening movement of his body as she takes him to where Mid-Nite needs him.

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Nightwing follows, in a leaden sort of daze, his mind racing. There are things he should do, but he's not sure what they are right now.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

"Get Oracle to upload medical history from Bane fight," Batman instructs Mid-Nite through clenched teeth as he is shifted from place to place. "You'll know what to do."

His gaze fixes on Pieter with its dark intensity. "I trust you."

[midnite-md.livejournal.com]

"You'll have to."

The man is as intense now as they may ever have seen him.

A monitor nearby alights with the information Batman suggested, without the question even having to be asked of Oracle, and Pieter looks it over quickly.

"X-Ray, please, Arisia."

[elfinlantern.livejournal.com]

"Of course, Doctor."

A green pannel flickers into being above the man's back revealing the X-Ray view, not yet doing 3-D imaging.

[midnite-md.livejournal.com]

"Right."

The comparison in his mind is done quickly, almost superhumanly so. Amazing precision, to rebreak in nearly all the same spots.

He's been briefed on what happened down there, so he doesn't waste time with unnecessary questions.

"Anaesthesia, please," he asks of his nurse, to dull Batman's pain receptors for the time being. "This will be delicate work, and I can't be disturbed."

[elfinlantern.livejournal.com]

Arisia begins to dull the nerves so that Mid-Nite can begin to work. This takes more concentration on her part. Her eyes narrow, the corners wrinkling up. At the same time, a noise barrier goes up around them.

[midnite-md.livejournal.com]

The cutting is quick and without hesitation.

"The breakage isn't nearly as bad as your previous experience," he says, hoping to ease concerns that the Bat is far too stoic to betray.

In fact, after cleaning out the wound and some careful application of some biocompatible substances he's personally developed, it quickly becomes apparent that the damage will not be lasting.

After getting some further emerald sealant on the work he's just done from his nurse, he starts to stitch his patient back up for her to seal quickly. Not easy work, but competent work.

After a long, tense time, he speaks again.

"Normally, you shouldn't leave bed for a week, but thanks to Arisia, you should be able to walk now. So please get up and find Dr. Light."

And he's done, off to the next patient. None of the chatty bedside manner he had the last time.

Children are dying all around him.