Disclaimer – I wish they were mine, but they're not.
A/N – I'm getting a little too addicted to Livia's Random DC Generator. This time it gave me the prompt: 'Vic Stone (Cyborg) in Gotham'. And geez, how many times has this title been used, eh?
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Gotham Nights
By Scribbler
September 2004
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Beast Boy just looked at Cyborg. "You have a bad feeling about everything we do."
"Yeah, but this is Gotham," Cyborg pointed out. "Bad feelings are practically mandatory."
Beast Boy thought for a moment, and then nodded his agreement. The nod was a lot more emphatic than his words. "Yeah, I suppose so."
The street around them was drab and indistinguishable from all the others they'd seen since crossing the border. Cyborg hunched over the T-Car's wheel, once again questioning the decision to travel from bright, primary-coloured Jump City to crime-on-every-corner Gotham. It wasn't as if Robin had gone completely off radar. They knew he was here... somewhere.
'Somewhere' in Gotham incorporated everything from Ritz to morgue.
"I'm glad we left Star behind," he admitted. "Raven, too. This is morbid enough without her."
"Yu-huh," agreed Beast Boy, peering at the spider-dark buildings. "Still, it could be worse. At least we got to pass straight through Bludhaven without stopping."
Cyborg was forced to agree. Gotham was many things, but at least it hadn't given up the way Bludhaven had. There, you were lucky if you reached retirement age without a few scars, and in some cases you were lucky just to reach retirement age. Compared to that, Gotham was the leading contender for America's Finest City.
"So..." Beast Boy clapped his hands and rubbed them together. It was false cheer, and died a death under the flickering streetlight. The traffic signal changed to green and the T-Car crawled forward. "Any idea where to start?"
"Nope. This trip was your bright idea. I was thinking you had some sort of plan."
"Plan? Me? Cy, buddy, remember who you're talking to here."
Cyborg sighed. "I swear, one of these days I'm 'a wring your scrawny little neck - " He paused, eye caught by what could have been a figure on a rooftop. The T-Car's headlights were powerful enough to illuminate the whole street, but petered out that high up. "Hello. I think we may have had our first break."
"Where? Where?" Beast Boy craned over, trying to see. "Was it Robin, or the Bat-dude? 'Cause no offence to Rob, him being the protégé and all, but the big guy's hella creepy, and if I can stay outside a hundred metres of him, I'd be more than happy."
Cyborg was about to reply, but the thump of something landing on the T-Car's roof cut him off. He screeched to a halt, semi-thankful the street was empty and semi-apprehensive Gotham was so damn dark outside the suburbs. Rogues had as much tendency as heroes to wander around making silhouettes on rooftops around here.
Beast Boy's head was resting in the crook of his seat, the rest of him scrunched into the foot area. "Please tell me that's Rob," he said in a small voice. No matter that he could become the planet's deadliest creatures at will, Gotham had that effect on people: it drained your courage right out your fingertips. Dark things lived in Gotham.
"Whoever it is, if they've scratched my paintwork, I'm going sonic blaster on their ass." To emphasise and prepare for worst, Cyborg primed his weapons systems and made sure his vocal structure wasn't vacillating.
The mask that looked through the windshield was familiar, if upside down. Beast Boy's sigh of relief was only slightly more audible than Cyborg's.
"Dude. You scared us."
"I have that knack," said Robin, in a voice as wet as a desert. "You guys really aren't that good at the incognito thing, are you?"
"Um, hello? Bright green skin and... well, he's called Cyborg for a reason, man."
Robin's face disappeared. A moment later, Cyborg had to wind down the window.
"Does the word 'sabbatical' mean anything to you two?" Robin asked. He didn't lean on the car, instead canting his body into a combat-ready posture – arms loose, legs a little bent, and al his weight resting on the balls of his feet. In Gotham, it paid to be prepared.
"Isn't that the band that guy from the Osbournes used to be in?" Beast Boy mused.
"Ignore him," said Cyborg. "This was Star's beef, but if we'd let her fly over she'd have torn up half the city looking for you. So someone green-behind-the-ears decided to take her place and come see if you needed any help on this so-called 'sabbatical' of yours."
"The idea of taking a break is pretty self-explanatory. It doesn't require help." Robin eyed the street around them, and Cyborg kept his radio frequencies tuned for anything remotely like a police report.
"Sure. And that's why you're running around in the ol' red-yellow-green combo instead of resting up and catching a few Zs."
The ghost of a smile played around Robin's lips. It looked downright eerie in this light. "Touché. But since you're here, I could use a little firepower."
"What, Batman won't lend you none of those nifty gadgets no more?"
"Not since I trashed the Batplane."
Beast Boy's eyes widened. "You trashed the... dude!"
Cyborg rolled his eyes. "411? And are you sure our jurisdiction stretches this far?"
"If you solve the problem and clear out before the commissioner appears, then sure. The 411 goesn like this: Poison Ivy broke out of the asylum last week. Now she's resurfaced and got an entire building on its knees for using too much unneeded paper in its official procedures. We have hostages, gigantic Venus Flytraps, and Batman's already dealing with an insurrection at Arkham."
"Swell." Cyborg sighed while Beast Boy pumped the air with a fist.
"Cool. We get to play ball with Poison Ivy. She's a babe. Are we hardcore, or what?"
Robin shot a grapple at a ledge and pulled it taut to make sure it was secure. "Follow me."
Cyborg grumbled as he pulled away. "Should've just stayed in Bludhaven."
FINIS.