Original Author's Note

of all the chapter titles so far, this one is my favorite.

Prompts

stomach pain | head trauma | back from the dead

Chapter 8: everything hurts and i'm dying

“Your second chance?” 

Dick backs away. He wants as much space between him and Owlman as he can get. Owlman turns, tracking him across the room, but he doesn’t try to close the distance. “What happened to the first one?” 

“A miscalculation,” Owlman says. “He sought to prove himself—”

“He’s dead. Isn’t he.” 

Owlman pauses. “Yes. He is. Along with most of my world.”

“So you came here,” Dick says. It seems neither of them is playing things close to the chest anymore. Unless this, too, is a mind game. “And found a replacement goldfish.” 

“You’re not the same person,” Owlman says. “I know that. But I also know what you’re capable of. I know what you can do, and I need your help.” 

“To save the world.” Dick circles closer to the door. Owlman lets him. Even if Dick could get through the door, he’s at the center of the Watchtower, surrounded by layers of security. He doesn’t know where the other members of the Crime Syndicate are, and he doesn’t have any way to get past them. 

“Yes,” Owlman says. “I don’t want what the rest of the Crime Syndicate wants. I want something… different.”

Dick shakes his head. “I’m not going to help you,” he says. “You can dress it up however you want. You—you’re not the first megalomaniac to talk about ‘saving the world’ when what you mean is killing hundreds of thousands of people—”

Owlman lunges at him. 

Dick dodges away on instinct. Pain shoots through his stomach and he pulls back just in time to save his stitches. Owlman grabs his wrist. Dick twists out of the hold and backs away. He wants to duck, to roll, to fight—but he can’t. All he can do is back away and put the bed between him and Owlman. 

“You care,” Owlman says. “You care about this world.”

“Yeah,” Dick snaps. “I do.”

“And I am offering you a chance to help. To save it from the Crime Syndicate. Together.”

A double-cross? Dick pauses. He’s seen this before, plenty of times, although he didn’t expect it here. He’s using them. He’ll use Dick too, if Dick lets him. 

Owlman looms on the other side of the room. 

“This world is a mess,” he says. His voice lifts with sardonic humor. “Your Justice League should have taken control and cleaned it up long ago. Ultraman is right about that, at least. But he’s wrong about everything else.” 

He lunges again. This time Dick is ready. He pirouettes, using the edge of the bed as a barrier, and just manages to escape Owlman’s grasp. He backs to the other side of the room, shoulders tense, abdomen pulsing with pain. Owlman lets him go.

“His goal,” Owlman says, “is nothing less than to enslave your earth and amass its power for himself, driven by his paranoia and fear. But on this world, his supply of Kryptonite is limited.” 

His supply of Kryptonite? That’s another difference between worlds, another tally on Dick’s mental list. He paces along the cell wall, keeping his eyes on Owlman. The man is winding himself up to a monologue now. Dick wants to see how much more information he lets slip. 

“For the first time,” he says, “Ultraman is vulnerable. We can stop him. Together. This world is either taken over by him—or it’s taken over by us.” 

He lunges. Dick goes to dodge, but this time Owlman doesn’t let him get away. He grabs Dick by the shoulders and slams him back against the wall. Breath whistles out of Dick’s lungs. The bruises on his back throb. 

Owlman looks into his face and smiles. 

“These are your only options, Dick,” he says. “Will you help me stop the Crime Syndicate?”

For a second, Dick hesitates. 

No. That’s the answer. He knows better than to ally himself with a villain, especially one who got Richard Grayson killed once already. But Owlman holds all the cards here. He holds Dick’s life in his hands—literally—and it’s tempting to agree. To give him what he wants. To save his own skin. 

Dick follows that course of action one step further. He imagines what Owlman might ask him to do next. He’ll want Dick to prove his loyalty. They always do. 

He looks up into ice-blue eyes. He sees nothing but greed. 

“No,” he says. He needs to make this count. They knew each other, in the other world. Two can play that game. “I won’t let you kill me again.” 

Owlman’s face twists with rage. 

Dick gets one second of triumph. Then a gloved hand grabs his face and slams his head against the wall. Everything blacks out. 

When it comes back, he’s crumpled on the floor, looking up at Owlman. The angle makes him a giant. Dick rolls onto his back, trying to sit up. Owlman reaches down and grabs him before he has the chance. 

“You’re in no shape to fight me, Dick.” He leans close enough for Dick to hear him murmur. He grips the back of Dick’s neck like a vice. “And without me, the Syndicate will kill you. Remember that.” 

He drops him. Dick falls, flinging one hand out just in time to stop his head from hitting the floor. The room swims around him. His head pounds. The floor is cold against his arms as he drags himself up. 

“Is this what you want?” 

Dick looks up. He finds Owlman, wearing the armored cowl, staring down at him. He sees his own face reflected in the lenses. 

“Leave me alone,” Dick says. His voice rasps in his throat. 

Owlman stares at him. Dick braces himself to get hit again—to be picked up and thrown across the room. 

Then Owlman turns and walks out. He slams the cell door shut behind him. 

Dick lays his head down. The floor is cool against his forehead. The back of his head throbs with dull, hammering pain. 

He lies still.