Summary: DCnU AU. Red Robin meets Superboy and decides to do something about that attitude of his.
This was something he had not planned for.
It was a sardonically grudging admittance on Red Robin’s part. He had, over the years, become fairly good at planning for any eventuality. Anything less would be cause for disappointment from any number of sources. Batman. Nightwing. Probably a healthy dose of vitriol from the demon currently inhabiting his old costume.
Each and every one of those possibilities was more than enough reason to plan for a possible nuclear disaster on the way to the corner store. It stood to reason his mission based planning was even more intricate and thorough.
So when he found himself slammed up against a cement wall with an arm that had about as much give as a block of granite he was embarrassed to admit the unexpectedness of the situation.
On the outside it all seemed rather simple.
N.O.W.H.E.R.E. didn’t like him, and Red Robin wasn’t too fond of them either. The organization was too militant, with too many skeletons in it’s closet for anyone to assume they really were looking out for the well being of the public at large. Red Robin had made it his personal mission to rescue as many young heroes from the clutches of N.O.W.H.E.R.E as possible.
He’d already nicked a few good catches from under the organization’s nose and the fact that they were irritated wasn’t news to him. So of course they’d throw some muscle at him and his new rag tag little team.
Some suped up metas, a couple lower caliber criminals. These had been expected. If the organization had had anything of real, true import as of yet, Red Robin had assumed they wouldn’t be saving it, considering how he’d been disabling their network as of late.
He supposed the joke was on him however, because while anyone else would see some anonymous meta pounding the crap out of the defacto leader of the Teen Titans, Red Robin’s deductive skills drew a different picture, and it wasn’t just based on the glowing S Shield emblazoned across his attacker’s chest.
He knew enough about Kryptonians to recognize the signs when he saw them. Batman had made sure of that. As much as Superman was a great protector of earth, he had been known in the past to be co-opted for more nefarious purposes. To know as much as possible about Kryptonian physiology and powers was basically chapter one in the Bat Handbook.
The creepy thing though was this guy- he looked like Superman. Albeit a much younger version- but the eyes? Even the way his short hair fell, the shape of his face- each made him a dead ringer for a younger version of Earth’s friendliest protector.
And there was a scent- one he’d only made note of a few times before, when in the presence of Superman. Batman couldn’t describe what the scent was, but his theory was that it had something to do with the way Kryptonians metabolized. Taking in energy from earth’s sun and turning it into raw power, and giving off faint, though not unpleasant smell similar to ozone.
The arm under his chin smelled like that.
And if all these clues led to the conclusion he feared, Red Robin was pretty sure that in a few minutes he’d have a hollowed out skull where his face was supposed to be.
Which meant his life pretty much depended on whether or not he’d actually remembered to fill his utility belt’s lead compartment with kryptonite. Normally he would know down to the ounce what his belt and suit contained, but Red Robin was losing oxygen at an alarming rate, the arm had shifted up against his throat. He should have it- he reasoned, as his nerveless fingers scrabbled weakly between himself and the wall. It should be here.
The boy was talking, but the only information Red Robin could extract was the calm irritation the words were laced with. He thought they might have been demands. Demands from N.O.W.H.E.R.E? Possibly. Was this super powered strong hold grinding his bones to dust through his Kevlar suit? Probably.
The edges of his vision were starting to darken, like his eyes were being burnt from the outside in when the tip of his gloved finger just caught the mechanism on his belt.
Everything went dark.
And then it went white.
Notes: Oh I found this on my computer this morning while being bed bound. It started as an excuse to lovingly describe Kon’s Tron outfit in vigorous detail and have a reason to do it. Then like everything it caught a life of it’s own. Having more then one story going at a time isn’t a bad thing right? Although considering this is my second Tim/Kon story I need to balance out the scales and whip out some Tim/Jay somewhere too.
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