“Victor Stone."
Looking back, Victor realized he shouldn’t have been caught off guard by Batman's familiarity with his name. Yet, the weight of that recognition pierced him. In that moment, all the recent events that had led him to this point faded, and he was left in a state of awe but also... vulnerability.
“I’m sorry.”
Victor jolted back. The last person to apologize to him was his father, who hadn’t spoken to him since— Of course, Batman knew about this, too.
Victor's response was a forced shrug, a feeble attempt to mask the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “No, it's fine," He managed to say, his voice betraying the turmoil. "Just when I think I can move past it all, it just...” The words trailed off, the unspoken pain hanging heavy in the air.
Batman's eyes soften, and so do Robin’s—both understanding and intimately familiar with this silence all too well. And both knew that despite all logic arguing against it, Victor needed the silence. And now they also knew he would try to leave after bringing up the source of turmoil.
Victor Stone looked up, his face steeled, “Well, thanks. But I’m gonna head off now.”
“Vic—”
“Don’t.” Victor cut Robin off, turned around, and hunched. “The last thing I need is someone lying to me, saying they can relate.”
“Well,” Robin looked at Batman, who nodded, “I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through, but I know a thing or two about having your old life destroyed by outside forces.”
Victor turned around and saw the kid's solemn expression. The teen’s normal eye softened by a fraction. Batman could see a whole other world within both of his eyes, almost a parallel to his own, yet alien all the same. Then, Victor’s eyes hardened again.
“Fine,” he said, “but you can take off that suit and have a normal life. You’re not a goddamn freak like me!” He looked at Batman, his emotions bubbling like magma, “Now, unless you got the answer to giving me my college scholarship,” his voice raised, “my football career, and my skin back, I don’t want to hear it!!!”
As Victor turned out of the alley, a part of him felt he had gone overkill but didn’t care. Just saying what could be his life felt like pouring salt in his wound. Except he would welcome salt; at least he could feel that. The only feeling he got was from his face, and he did all he could to hide what lay beneath.
“Linda J. Reed,” said Batman. Victor stopped walking. “Resident of Gotham; won the Gotham National Bank’s special $100,000 prize when she was down to her last $11. Sound familiar?”
Victor turned around. Batman took in the minuscule and subtle facial twitches of his human-sided face. Once long ago, Batman would struggle to see incredulity, fear, and pleading within a wall of impasse. But now, as the World’s Greatest Detective, they are as clear as day. Batman approaches him, Robin following closely behind. Victor straightened his stance.
“Yeah,” he said, “that was me.” he shrugged, “So what? You gonna try and recruit me, make me fight crime?”
“Do you want to?” Batman asked.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Victor blinked, “So why—”
“You’re a good man, Victor Stone.”
Victor felt his human eye drawing something moist, and he was thankful that the shadows of the alleyway hid how his natural eye didn’t gleam as his red eye did. Batman put a hand on his shoulder, and the man’s eyes, once grim and stern, seemed to fill only with understanding. No trace of disgust or fear or hate—only understanding.
“Don’t shut everyone out, Victor,” he said softly, “I know. If you want to be alone, then that’s your decision, but please…let me help you.”
Victor swallowed, and Batman could see how his eye glistened. Victor Stone had a war within his mind, and perhaps he was the only one who knew how it would end. But Batman was the unknown element in his environment. He was black-clad and a creature of darkness, and yet, he seemed to be the first ray of light that Victor’s war needed—clarity in a haze of wires and red. Victor had always been a fan of Batman, and he remembered telling his friends on the football team how he was more than he appeared. Now, though, reminded of his past words, he believed. There was something about them, though, that struck Victor with familiarity. The teen knew this was their first meeting, yet it didn’t feel that way, especially with Robin.
But he had spoken to few people since the accident, so for any familiarity to be possible, Victor Stone would have to have been a tall, athletically built African-American teen with broad shoulders, a cheeky grin, and not covered in metal.
----------------------------------------
He shouldn’t be grinning too much since he’s in trouble for hacking the school’s records, but he was. Despite how disgruntled the principal was, he sat patiently like a model student and quietly waited for his mother to serve up some justice. He replays this moment in his head.
“Victor Stone.” said his principal, “Wait outside.”
Victor glanced at his mother, her eye holding a quirk that didn’t worry him. These are some of the scenes he replays in his mind of his mother.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Mrs. Stone—” He heard the man say; big mistake.
“Doctor Stone,” His mother corrected. Victor smiled, already seeing the outcome play out in his mind.
“Hey, Vic,” said a voice, and Victor’s smile grew when he saw a younger boy, caucasian, black hair, walking towards him.
Victor said, “Hey, Rick. I mean, Nick. Oh, I mean, Dick.”
“Up yours!” Dick Grayson laughed and clasped hands with the older teen regardless, “What’d you do this time?”
“I saved Cera’s curricular opportunities,” Victor said, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, the horror!” Dick said, waving his arms and sitting next to his friends.
Victor waved at him, “Shh! I wanna hear this.”
The principal’s voice was muffled but said, “Your son may be captain of our football team, a certified genius, Miss— excuse me, Doctor Stone.” A beat, “But that doesn’t give him the right to hack into our systems to change his friend's grades.”
Victor and Dick pushed closer to the door, avoiding the transparent glass when Dr. Stone replied after another beat.
“Cera’s family lost their house this week…” Her voice was empathetic, “How was that child supposed to pass her class? Victor helped her because he’s got a heart….What did you do to help her?”
Victor and Dick stepped back, the older teen smiling genuinely and touched. Dick began to walk away.
“See you at the game?” Victor whispered.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything!”
Victor doesn’t feel the cold. All he gets is high-octane overdrive, his heart jackhammering as he sprints. Against all odds, through snow and sweat, Victor won the game. Victor couldn’t feel the cold that day; his absolute joy and cheer warmed his body as his teammates and best friend surrounded him, lifting him into the air. From that height, he could see everyone was just as happy as him. He saw his friends, the cheerleaders, and his girlfriend. He could see his mother cheering, screaming how much she loved him until she passed words and left in tears of joy.
Then, Victor’s eyes drift to the empty seat beside her. The seat that shouldn’t be empty. Now, Victor feels the cold. He could still feel it even as his mother drove them back home. Victor stared at the passing lights and cars like a ghost. The one man who knew how to make him feel dead inside—who told him to stop wasting his time out here, surrounded by friends. At this point, he’s tired of thinking about how unfair, stupid, and cruel it was. So he just stared outside his window.
“Your father,” his mom begins.
“No, mom. Don’t…”
The lack of conviction in his voice caused her to finish the sentence.
“He got held up at the lab.”
Victor scoffed, leaning his head to see her driving, “What else is new?”
“He wanted to be here.” She keeps insisting.
“Mom, please! I don’t wanna hear excuses for him. You’re both busy scientists, but he’s there, and you’re here. What does that say about him?” That he still hates what I love.
Of course, she doesn't say that, “I know he struggles to show it, but Victor, he’s so proud of you. We both are.” She notices tears threatening Victor’s eyes, “Hey, hey! It’s okay.”
“No, it…” But his voice dies out. All of the frustration turned to resentment and anger, risk cracking open, and he didn’t want his mom to coddle him. But he doesn’t shirk from her hand, cupping his cheek. He leans into it, trying to smile at her. She smiles back.
“Victor, with everything I see you do today, I can’t wait to see what you do tomorrow.”
There’s a flash of light, the sound of metal colliding with metal, glass shattering, and that’s all Victor sees before it all goes dark. He doesn’t even have time to think this is how my life ends.
When he wakes up again, it seems so distant. He thinks he sees the big, bland white and red splotches above him, and they pass as a ceiling. Or at least, if he had the power to decide what is and isn’t a ceiling and wondered why one side looks red, and the other doesn’t, he would. He hears words or sentences floating all around him. He thinks he hears a voice that sounds like his father. Victor wants his mother. He can feel himself wanting to know what happened to her. Victor tries to move when he hears a woman’s voice, but it sounds too light to be hers. He hears the voice say words like “Stone,” “Wife didn’t make,” and “Neither will your son.”
It’s becoming too difficult to keep up with all the lights and the noises. Victor thinks it would be better just to lie still and rest. He was comfortable, he won the game, he couldn’t feel his arms or legs, and his mother was happy. His father wasn’t there. He should have been there. Where was he?
“I won’t let you die.” said his Father. He sounds like he’s crying. But that can't be. My dad doesn’t love me.
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Victor opened his mouth. A loud screech drowned his words out, and all three of the alleyway’s inhabitants looked up to see a green streak in the sky. The sound faded, replacing it with the sound of a heavy object breaking the sound barrier.
There's a beat.
The Duo looks at each other, then Robin says to Victor:
“Listen, man, if you don't want any part in whatever that was, then you better clear out. But," he pushes a bat-shaped communicator into the tall teen's hand, “let's stay in touch."
Robin hesitates to move from his spot, and Victor’s red eye detects stiffness. His left foot, rooted in the ground, points toward Victor, while his right foot points toward Batman. Robin looks as though he wants to give much, much more than a simple apologetic glance, before he races down the dark alleyway with Batman to the Batmobile without a moment to lose.
Victor watches the car speed away. He stands there for a minute, then turns in the opposite direction, the device not yet crushed. He pulls up directions in his red eye, blue strings that point him to the closest shop with the quickest route. He’s maybe 13 minutes away(his red eye reads 0: 13: 45- - 46) from the shop and 10 minutes away (0: 10: 01– 0: 9: 59) from the crash site. But he shakes his head, thinking, I can’t help. I’m just a freak.
Victor looks at the communicator, scans it, and sees the tracking device inside. He scowls but continues to scan. In Victor’s mind, he's traveling down a brand new path made of 1s and 0s, 1s and 0s; the patterns of off and on’s sometimes rise and fall, and Victor finds himself stabilizing the path, and he thinks he hears the sound of bats in his way. He drowns out the sea of voices, pushes away the maze of encryptions, and hones in on two voices he probably shouldn't be hearing. Before he can reach it, he sees the bats, miles ahead of him, ready to chase Victor away and bar him any entry.
One bat is already racing to sound an alarm. Victor pulls it back, the bat writhing in the air, even though there isn’t actually air; Victor grunts, noticing how strong it is compared to a bank, and the teen doesn’t think he can hold it back forever. But he plants himself within, pulls with more strength, and pushes them and all the other security protocols away. The writhing bat, the largest one, still tries to call out in warning, so Victor rolls his eyes and creates a gilded cage around the bat with a mute sign above. Now, the owner of these protocols has no clue he’s here, and Victor can ‘sigh’ in relief. And now, he hears the conversation.
However, he wants to watch. He taps into a camera, which displays itself in front of him like a floating screen, and observes Batman and Robin. They appear impassive; Robin, however, barely restraining himself in his seat. A part of Victor feels like scowling or growling. They cover their faces with masks and hold back their emotions, all while they’re not broken or mangled like Victor. Victor knows how expressive he was with his face, and the thought of these two, or anyone, denying their emotions built something in Victor he didn’t know was there.
“All we can do is wait,” Batman says, breaking the silence.
Robin shouts, “NO!” then calms himself, “No, that’s not all we can do! I can’t leave him alone…”
“...I know. You’re right; we can do more but can’t force our help on him. We need to take our time and let his anger ebb.”
“...Is that what you thought when you took me in?” Robin looks at him while he drives, “Is this how you felt after you took me in?”
“You’re different. He has no one to take his anger out on. You did.” Batman pauses, “...And yes. I did feel guilty and responsible, and I wish I had been there. But I knew what I could give you and how to help you. In the end, I chose to give you Justice.”
Robin digests this, and the Boy Wonder seems to tightrope between brooding and wistfulness. Victor almost forgets he’s not there with him because he reaches out to comfort the kid. The action is so…familiar, as if he’s stepped in to defend this kid from bullies at his old school. Bullies who had fun…bringing up his dead parents…
“We won’t leave him behind. We never leave the lost behind, Robin; we guide them.”
Victor leaves the path, exiting the private world where he observes and controls. He’s alone on the street, his red eye showing he’s ten (0: 10: 01) minutes away from Batman and Robin’s intended location. Victor drowns out the technology, covering his red eye. He thinks about old memories, the painful but nostalgic ones he can’t make anymore– and then, he thinks logically. Why does the cybernetic teen keep feeling so familiar with Robin? As he does so, he thinks, it can’t be that obvious, can it? Victor, uncovering his red eye, still standing alone on the street, refuses the urge to perform facial and vocal recognition on Robin. He decides to go with his gut. Victor Stone clenches his fists. He turns in the direction the Dynamic Duo went.
“Hang on, man,” He says out loud, “I’m coming.”
And he runs like he did on the field, a new goal straight ahead.