<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">A collab between <strong>Solistair</strong> and <strong>Juggtacular</strong></span></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/IDfx3w5.png)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>NAME:</strong> Robin and 13<br/><strong>DAY:</strong> 08-18-2020<br/><strong>TIME:</strong> Night<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong> Seattle Docklands<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong> Gods Amongst Men<br/><strong>MOOD MUSIC:</strong> Arcade (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsmnIzs8j0g)</span><br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">He didn't utilize his speed during the bull rush. Waller had told him to enjoy himself, and that meant focusing his anger, his hatred, his rage, all into a single point. And then...erasing that point from existence. The Intergang leader looked like he could handle himself, so Thirteen didn't bother playing, even though this was him having <em>fun</em>. The leader took note of Thirteen as well, grinning to himself and leaning forward a bit.<br/><br/>"You did quite a number on my boys, stranger. Hell, I'm so impressed I'll pay you twice what I was payin' all of them, just to stay around and help me run this place. We don't need more than me, you, and some grunts for the light work. Whaddya say?" He'd expected his offer to be refuted, but the suited man didn't even respond. Just told him he was either going to kill him, or bring him in.<br/><br/>"Well then, guess money can't solve everything. Bring it on, tin can. Ain't no one who can stop me after my upgrades!" When the two collided, it was Thirteen who was victorious in the clash, as he'd ducked low for a brief moment, then uppercut the Interganger hard enough to launch him through the air and into the side of a water tower. Before he could pull himself free, Thirteen pushed off the ground, cracking it beneath him and launching toward the leader.<br/><br/> During his flight, the eyes on his helmet seemed to open up more, then flared red, and then twin beams of heat launched out, combining into a single large energy beam that hit the man square in the chest. "Arrrrrgh the hell!? Heat vision too?! Who the fuck are you?!" Not only the heat, but the force of the beam pushing against him kept him pinned, then Thirteen landed and leaned down, continuing his assault. He turned off the heat vision and delivered three sharp punches, rocking the man's face each time. Then he blasted him again, watching as the intense heat began to sear his skin and score his tech.<br/><br/>It only stopped when Intergangers hand shifted into a cannon and pressed itself directly up into the helmets face plate, that he fired, causing a muted explosion that sent Interganger through the back of the tower, and Thirteen sailing back the way he came before crashing down into one of the few vehicles he hadn't already destroyed. "Ain't gonna be that easy, boy. I didn't get to where I am by bein' a pushover."<br/><br/>When he stood up, the visual apertures for the suit had been damaged, meaning Cadmus could no longer control the intensity of his heat vision. Waller quickly shut that program down for the time being. "Alright then. Thirteen. Go old school. Beat him to death and bring us the body." "Affirmative." He kicked the jeep out of his way, and ignored the sparking of his helmet. He still had a job to do.<br/><br/>The Interganger hopped out of the rubble he'd been thrown, his combat mask torn off to reveal a bruised face. He had no clue who the person he was facing was but it was obvious that his newest opponent was strong. And that heat vision from before? He only knew of a select bunch of people in the world capable of heat vision. He grinned. <br/><br/>"Time to git serious!" <br/><br/>He punched a button on the middle of his chest. Immediately, his exoskeleton seemed to come alive, the gangster groaned as the mechanical contraptions attached to his flesh undulated. The sound of liquid could be heard within the cables around the exoskeleton and as it continued, the super thug looked up at the night sky and emitted a primal roar of pain and anger. <br/><br/>The man's muscles grew in size and thickness, his eyes becoming feral as his canines protruded from his mouth. If he had been around 7 foot before, he now stood well over 7 foot, his exoskeleton adapting rather than breaking from the strain caused by such spontaneous growth. The tattoos on his face appeared to come alive, coiling around his flesh like constricting snakes, his veins pulsing green. The ogre had become a demon. <br/><br/>He started to guffaw as he aimed his cannon-hand at Thirteen. The cannon enlarged itself in front of Thirteen's eyes, transforming from a grenade launcher into a howitzer, and from the barrel emerged a powerful burst of fiery light.</span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Meanwhile, a pile of debris somewhere under the steel of the fallen crane shifted forth to reveal a figure covered in red. There were two types of red on him. One was of cloth. And the other was wet. <br/><br/>His mask almost torn off in half, his hair slick with his own blood, Damian struggled to stand and so chose to crawl out of there before he was further crushed by the rubble. Once out, he pulled himself up by grabbing ahold of a jagged piece of steel above his head. The pain had grown. It caused him to stumble, eyes blurry. He bumped against the side of a shipping container and slid down, his muscles unable to gather tension, his body becoming limp. <br/><br/>Damian panted and groaned, sitting alone and bloodied in a corner. Around him were pieces of shrapnel and...flesh. <br/><br/>There was a voice within him, urging him to sleep, assuring him that when he woke up it'll all be over. He would've chuckled if he could though if he did at that moment, he'd lose even more blood than he'd already lost. The sound of explosions outside alerted him to a fight between the 2 supers. He didn't know if the other being, the one adorned in metal, was good or bad. But what he did know was that it was definitely against Intergang. And, at that moment, taking down the Intergang super took priority. <br/><br/>Pulling out a needle from his utility belt, he jabbed his arm with the tip. A rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins and his eyes focused, his senses returning to him. He forced himself off the ground and began to parkour his way out the debris. <br/><br/><em>Okay. Preptime.</em></span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Ha. Ha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!" While standing amidst the impact crater of his own body, and the contorted, decimated frame of the jeep he'd used as a landing pad, Thirteen started to laugh, then cackle maniacally. His shoulders rolled and he threw his head back at the sound of this opponent "getting serious". "Do you hear it? Do you hear the <em>silence</em>? This is the first time I haven't had a voice in my head. <em>Her</em> voice in my head.<br/><br/>Telling me what to do. Telling me when to sleep. Telling me when to kill. Now...at least for the <em>right</em> now. I'm free. I'm...sorry? That I have to kill you." Waller chuckled back at her command deck. This was false freedom. An illusion of choice. Thirteen was free to use whatever methods he had available to kill the man, but his job was still to kill him. She'd essentially given him the keys to a Lamborghini but only allowed him to drive it on the practice track. <br/><br/>Normally someone would pick up on this; <em>especially</em> someone with an off the charts intellect like Thirteen. However, he knew nothing else. He had no comparisons to make between true freedom and what Waller had given him a little sliver of, so not only did he not think to wonder what more there was, he didn't even bother because what he had in the here and now was a million times better than anything he'd ever known.<br/><br/>Finally, his insane bout of laughter died down, and he got quiet, dead quiet. Now he was simply staring at the Interganger, unknown what was going on behind his mask. In truth, his eyes were narrowing to the point he could peer right through this man, and see all that was going on inside his body. The cybernetics, the Formula X pumping through his veins; the sheer damage his body had taken before Thirteen ever even showed up. His vision returned to normal as the gang leaders body physically altered itself. <br/><br/>Muscles got bigger, blood vessels tore, even his tattoos seemed to writhe and alter shape. He got muuuuch bigger, and larger, and more ugly. But at the core, he was the same man Thirteen had just kicked up and down the docks.  Since the stakes had been upped, Thirteen decided to give him a chance, holding his hands out to his side and inviting whatever attack the man had. He looked, stared even in minute detail as the gun-arm transformed first into a high-powered grenade launcher, but then evolved again, taking on the look of a miniaturized howitzer. <br/><br/>However, as all Intergang tech was Apokaliptan, it was a make and model he was unfamiliar with. Still, Thirteen stood his ground, waiting for the attack to come. When he fired, a bright golden light emitted from the howitzer's barrel, summoning a miniature boom tube for a few moments before the light vanished. Then a projectile seemingly made from compressed warp energy launched out directly at Thirteen.<br/><br/>The glowing shell hit him square in the chest, causing him to take a single step back. Then an explosion came from nowhere that engulfed him and the surrounding thirty feet in a mushroom cloud. If the Interganger could see through the fire and smoke, he'd see Thirteen's body blown away, tumbling through the air before cracking into the concrete and digging it up every time he bounced.<br/><br/>Finally, he slid to a stop, his suit sparking and popping, him, completely still. For long moments, the armored Thirteen didn't move, and it seemed he had been defeated. His helmet was nearly shattered, his suit had a deep scorch mark and the visible damage from the explosion and even the lights running around it flickered like they were running out of power.<br/><br/>But then, his finger twitched, and that same terrifying laughter from before started up deep in the back of his throat. With seemingly no trouble, he stood up, brushing himself off, and looking directly at his opponent through the wreckage. "You b-b-b-b-bb-r-o-o----o--o-o-ke my hel-hel-hel-helhmmmmmmmm-met". The distortion on his voice was even worse now that his helmet was nearly destroyed and the vocoder was essentially done. He reached up, grabbed what was left, and pulled, ripping it off and tossing it aside.<br/><br/>Underneath revealed a dark face, glowing red eyes, and a look of pure...rage? Elation? It was hard to tell, but he looked determined if nothing else. "It's my turn, now right? To <em>get serious</em>?" He looked down at his hand, and thick veins popped up underneath his eyes before those red lances struck out again, this time heating up the gauntlet on his right hand until it was white-hot and the metal was beginning to melt. <br/><br/>When the process was finished, he held up his arm to admire his handiwork, then disappeared, flying so fast toward Interganger that he destroyed ten feet of ground where he'd been standing. His right arm was cocked back, ready to throw a <em>hard</em> haymaker at his jaw, while his left flicked just a bit to exert his telekinetic control over his legs. Not enough to pin him down, but enough to tug at him and draw his attention for just a fraction of a second. Then he was there, in his face, swinging for the fences and roaring at the soon to be corpse who'd given him the best few moments of his young life.<br/></span><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Heh. I've prepared for the day when I'd face Superman but I suppose you'll be a good test for the real thing!" the Intergang super snarled. Tapping the right half of his face, his skin turned gray as his eye glowed orange. His arm was composed of his own meta-gene ability but the current transformation was a product of something far more sinister in nature. Apokaliptican tech. <br/><br/>Registering how fast Thirteen was speeding toward him, the Intergang super thug was unfazed. He was a veteran of countless battles and had faced many metahumans before in his lifetime, including Superman himself during his early days in Intergang. Compared to the Man of Steel, the dark-skinned figure jetting right for him was naught but a perceived nuisance, no doubt a powerful meta but still undeniably...<br/><br/>"Not fucking scary at all!" he grunted as his arm morphed into a massive warhammer composed of organic metal that glowed orange like his eyes. Empowered by both Formula X and Apokalypse, his artificial right eye calculated the optimal distance from which to swing. His decision had to be made in the milliseconds. And with the heightened senses that Formula X had given him, such a decision was not hard to make. <br/><br/>The Intergang boss swung his warhammer into Thirteen's body as he came within a striking radius, anticipating the Cadmus super's simple attack with a counter-strike that carried with it devastating kinetic force. The young clone had underestimated his opponent and as alien metal neared his face, the question of who'd be a corpse soon was posed his way.  <br/><br/>"DIE NIG-!"<br/><br/><strong>POOF!</strong><br/><br/>A sudden burst of crackling electricity expanded forth from the feet of the Intergang boss just as he and Thirteen neared another. The Apokalyptican pulse within his warhammer instantly dulled along with the glow of his orange eyes. Originating from a small black object embedded in the ground shaped like a bird, the EMP blast emitted waves of electromagnetic radiation that would fry all electrical devices in a radius of 20 feet. Even Thirteen's connection to Cadmus was not safe from the EMP shuriken. <br/><br/>Damian stood perched upon the mangled wreckage of a shipping container a distance away from the confrontation between Intergang boss and Thirteen.<br/><br/><em>Fabius Bracken. Aka 'Strongarm'. Ex-Green Beret turned highly paid enforcer for Intergang. His exoskeleton, no doubt derived from Apocalyptican tech, appeared to operate via EM transmission from neural signals to the machine itself. Looks like I was right</em><br/><br/>Watching the Interganger, apparently known as Strongarm, swing his formerly empowered warhammer at Thirteen, both entities simultaneously engaging in single brute force strikes intended to knock the other unconscious, Damian began to prepare his next set of Birdarangs while guessing which of the brutes would come out on top.</span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Until now, Thirteen had been mostly ignoring the words of his opponent. Even without his handlers and Waller in his ear, this man had nothing interesting to say to him. But when he heard "Superman", something inside him yelled out in fury.<br/><br/> A reaction built-in to make him hostile to the Man of Steel, as not only was Thirteen designed to replace him as a government-sanctioned hero, but to potentially kill Superman on the chance he rampaged and turned against humanity and the world. Thirteen was unaware of any of this, and only knew that hearing that name made him want to reach out and crush between his hands until it fell away to tatters in the wind.<br/><br/>Now, Thirteen didn't care about his arm turning into a hammer, or it glowing orange and pulsing with power. Nor did he care about the further techno-organic transformation he was undergoing. Thirteen only wanted to bring pain. He was even willing to ignore the attack, ready to accept whatever came so he could get his hands on Strongarm.<br/><br/>At the last moment, electricity pulsed between them and while Strongarm's body and attack were weakened back to their normal levels with no more tech to power him, Thirteen spasmed in the air, seeming to go unconscious while hurtling forward fast enough that he was simply a projectile now. BONK!!! Even without his tech powering his hammer, Strongarm had a mean hook, and it connected with Thirteen's chin, spinning him off to the side to crash through several cargo containers, then skip like a rock before a tugger stopped him. <br/><br/>He was still for a moment, not even twitching or seeming to breathe. Until finally, a deep breath entered him and he stood up with a roar. He looked around in confusion, as for the first time he could see clearly, with nothing in his head. The voices, the HUD screen. All of it was gone. The EMP had freed him from his bonds, even if only temporarily. But right now, all that left...was <em>rage</em>.<br/><br/>He looked at Strongarm, rolled his neck, then gestured to a forklift that suddenly hovered into the air and started spinning like a top. When it got so fast it could only be seen as a whirring shape, he threw it, at Strongarm, then followed launched his heat vision at the spinning projectile at the last moment, turning it into a shrapnel fire bomb and a smokescreen. Whether he was affected or not, Thirteen flew off toward Strongarm, cupping both hands into a hammerfist and swinging up towards his chin as he flew through the smoke.</span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Damian played witness to the capabilities of Thirteen as he endured an attack that would've otherwise destroyed a human body. The remaining working lens of his mask captured the scene in front of him, the flames of the masses of rubble strewn across the landscape and the smog so thick it fought the blackness of the night, dulling the humble gaze of the white sphere above in a haze of darkness. <br/><br/>The body of Strongarm was more than just heavy. It was immense. And it was lifted off the ground from a firm footing by a strike from Thirteen under its chin, sending the Intergang super suspended for the briefest of moments in the air before it was pulled back down by gravity. <br/><br/><em>Well, now I know who's stronger of the 2</em> Damian thought. <em>That thug, if my memory is correct, which of course it always is, was part of the JLA's most wanted list. The hero assigned to take him down? Superman.</em><br/><br/>Naturally, there was a distinct feeling of fear within him upon seeing the prone body of Strongarm laying upon charred steel. <em>Dude just got oneshot...</em> <br/><br/>But his chemical dispensing system was still attached to his body and Damian knew that if the drug within was anything like Venom, it was capable of near-immediate regeneration of even the most fatal of injuries though at the cost of inducing a temporary berserk state on the user. <br/><br/>Soon enough, Strongarm began to stir. Loudly. He screamed at first. Then, a guttural roar saturated the air as the Intergang boss stumbled upward, his broken chin seemingly ignored as wild eyes stared at Thirteen. Blood seeping from its mouth, he exerted such pressure on the surface he stood upon that the steel wreckage he was on was being crushed. <br/><br/>A tiny black bird soared through the air and embedded itself on Strongarm's back. <br/><br/><em>I'll take out the 2 of them in 1 strike.</em> <br/><br/>Strongarm, in a rather predictable manner, launched himself at Thirteen, his 'strongarm' morphed into a thick drill that rotated so fast it could've pierced diamond. What Damian had not expected however, was the power in which he'd moved. Whatever was the thug's system, it was an extremely potent formula that allowed man to surpass physical limitations.  <br/><br/>When Strongarm neared Thirteen, the Birdarang on his back exploded. A mist of dark green covered the Intergang super. If Thirteen got close, the mist would coat him too. Strongarm cried out and faltered in his steps, stumbling down and shielding himself from Thirteen. Tears wet his cheeks, his vocal chords straining from a constant, pitched scream. He managed to stand up and, still screaming, flail his arms about, his drill-arm sowing destruction on everything in an uncoordinated path of motion. <br/><br/><em>He's still human.</em> <br/><br/>Damian had thrown a Birdarang infused with the infamous Fear toxin, working on the assumption that Strongarm was a meta-HUMAN. And it was apparent that he was, the toxin designed specifically to attack the human physiology and cause nightmares to creep out from every crevice the victim saw and haunt them until the effect expired. <br/><br/>And the 5th Robin had timed the explosion so that the weaponized gas would also reach Thirteen...</span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The weight of the impact behind his blows, the reverberation sending shockwaves through Strongarm's body. The blood streaming from the man's injuries. All of those things caused a duality of conscience inside Thirteen. Like his brain was splitting in half on what to do. He could beat him to death and bring him home, following orders. Or he could show him mercy. But...Strongarm wouldn't show him any, would he? He...he wouldn't. No.<br/><br/>No one shows mercy. Waller had told him that. <em>Shown</em> him that. The rage, and the more malicious side of his psyche won out in the chaos of the entire situation. Thirteen, despite being under his own control, still was under the thumb of his programming. All in the span of seconds, his entire existential crisis had been snuffed out, and he fell firmly on the wrong side of things. His attacks had worked on Strongarm, exceedingly well. <br/><br/>The forklift exploding hurt even if only slightly, but it allowed Thirteen to use the debris as a smokescreen for the uppercut that sent Strongarm skyward, then left him to fall back to the concrete. He stood there, shoulders heaving while he held his head high in triumph over someone...he might actually enjoy fighting again. He didn't move until the man stirred from his forced slumber, stumbling to his feet and roaring so loud that Thirteen knew something was wrong, as his jaw was broken and hanging at a weird angle. <br/><br/>Thirteen hopped backward a few feet, observing Strongarm with inquisitive gazes using different vision modes to inspect his body. It was awful what was going on in there, but he'd chosen to do it to himself. Even if Thirteen had been programmed to understand the concept of sympathy, the Intergang leader would get none. He waited for his risen opponent to decide what he wanted, and would respond in kind when he charged.<br/><br/>The only thing that gave him pause was the tiny black shuriken that came from nowhere and embedded in Strongarm's back flesh. But he soon ignored that too, ready for another scrap. A scrap that didn't come, as green gas started to seep out of the birdarang with the tiny -click- of an ignition starter that only someone with advanced hearing could pick out over all the ruckus. He rushed back in, taking no time to ponder what the mist did to Strongarm to suddenly turn him into a blithering idiot flailing his drill all over the place. <br/><br/>It only meant his target had an opening to exploit. He easily dodged one of his wild strikes, to catch the drill in his inhuman grip. He looked down at the drill, then the man attached to it, and shook his head in disappointment. Neon blue eyes then turned red, and thin heat rays peered down onto the drill, superheating it before Thirteen raised his elbow and struck down, shattering it halfway.<br/><br/>It was around that time that the gas got into his nose, his eyes. His pupils dilated, and the world around him turned to absolute, utter darkness. Jut like the tank. Only this time, he was awake. "No. No. No nononononono. NOOOO!!!" Thick veins bulged around his eyes and when he opened them, a beam wider than his face penetrated the clouds, temporarily lighting the sky. Then as he swung around in a panic, it sliced a path of destruction through the docks that only took 2.739 seconds to flash ignite, which caused a massive fire trail and explosion to follow the path of the beams. <br/><br/>Something in him told him to fight it though, and that he was tougher than that. Something inside him even knew what this <em>fear toxin</em> was. His freakout lasted maybe thirty seconds, but then he seemed to take a deep breath and calm himself, as if he simply overcame the toxin. And it appeared that was just what he did. Strongarm on the otherhand was not so lucky, and was still shrieking in terror, thrashing around like a mental patient on the watchlist. He was no longer a threat, so now he would beat him to death and take him in.  Only first...he turned to peer directly at <em>Damian</em>. He didn't move yet. Only stared at him, hidden or not, he looked directly at him, and waited.</span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Damian shivered from a chill that coursed throughout his spine. The <span class="bbc_u">being</span> who had just bested one of the American underworld's most elite fighters was currently staring at him. His time spent accompanying Batman during Justice League missions had made him well acquainted with the capabilities of superhumans. And superbeings. <br/><br/>There was not a single shred of doubt within Robin regarding the sensory ability of Thirteen. He'd seen what Thirteen was capable of. And, he knew that Thirteen had not been pushed by Strongarm. No, not even close. A few knockarounds that could be attributed to the kinetic force of Strongarm's blows rather than any actual damage. <br/><br/><em>If he is a living, breathing being...or just an android of some kind...there are no visible signs of damage I can see...no bleeding, no bruises, no open wires, no nothing.</em><br/><br/>His mind calculated right then and there the estimated damage output of a man like Strongarm, taking into account his chemical steroid, which Damian substituted as Venom, and his meta-gene ability. The result? <br/><br/><em>He is no human. He ain't even superhuman. He's a goddamn entity.</em><br/><br/>Hopping down the ledge he'd been crouched atop, Damian trudged forward over the rubble amidst the screams of the maddened Strongarm. Pulling one of the few remaining Birdarangs he possessed from his utility belt, he hurled it in a single, smooth action. <br/><br/>And it embedded itself within the target. Deep. <br/><br/>Strongarm screamed one last time before an explosion rocked his cranium bone and knocked him unconscious again though this time, he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. The Birdarang jutted out of his back, it had been a non-lethal attack. Just how Damian had intended it to be. He didn't want to kill the man. If anything, he wanted Strongarm <span class="bbc_u">alive</span> so that he could be questioned and more information could be gleaned from him regarding the activity of Intergang and other criminal organizations in America and possibly beyond. <br/><br/>Yet, Damian had never intended to capture Strongarm the moment he had embarked upon this mission. In fact, he had actually wanted to AVOID the super thug. It was another reminder for the teenage Robin that things don't always conform perfectly to a plan. Especially when it comes to crimefighting. <br/><br/>Looking back at Thirteen, he hesitated for a second. He'd mentally recorded the effects of the Fear toxin on the black-skinned man. It had been exactly 29.5 seconds. 29.5 FUCKING seconds. And, after watching Thirteen fight, he doubted the reason was that he was a legendary master of martial arts. <br/><br/><em>No, he's just too fucking super.</em><br/><br/>But Damian hadn't stopped thinking. Working under the very likely assumption that he was as much a threat to Thirteen as an ant, at least in this situation, he knew there was only one feasible approach that could get him out of possibly being pinched to death by Thirteen. Or being crippled for life. That was also one of the hundreds of scenarios he envisioned.<br/><br/>Dropping his mask on the ground and raising his arms, a universal sign of disarmament, Damian called out to Thirteen, <strong>"I mean you no harm, friend. My name's Robin. I'm with the Justice League."</strong> He nodded at the unmoving body of Strongarm, <strong>"I just want him. Then, I'm leaving. Whatever you've come here for, you can have it. We are not enemies. We are friends."</strong><br/><br/>His language was simple. Direct and to the point. Damian was working under the probability of Thirteen not being human, at least a mainstream human, and if that was the case, he'd focus on both body language and verbal tone that indicted passiveness. If he'd known he'd be facing a being like Thirteen that night, a scenario like the one he was currently facing could have been avoided. However, he had not. Damian just hoped his oversight would not cost him his life. <br/><br/><em>At the very least, if he attacks me, my mask will survive this night.</em> He forced a friendly smile. <em>I hope he'll go for the head and not rip my fucking body in half...</em></span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">He didn't care much at all as the new man threw an explosive into the back of Strongarm's skull and knocked him out. He was more interested in the unknown quantity for now. The entire time he and Damian stared, they were analyzing one another. <br/><br/>However, Thirteen's was far more intrusive. While Damian put pieces together about what stood before him, and just how powerful it was, Thirteen saw things like the amount of broken and fractured bones Damian had in his body. How many of his blood vessels had burst from excessive blunt force trauma; how his lungs were scorched and swollen from smoke inhalation. Skull fracture. Orbital contusion. <br/><br/>Multiple lacerations. The fact that he wasn't unconscious was incredible. Him moving around and being completely coherent was nearly impossible for an ordinary human. He still didn't move as the newest Robin approached him, nor did he move as he removed his mask and held his hands up in a sign of surrender. Thirteen could have been mistaken for a statue if his hulking frame wasn't still heaving up and down ever so slightly with every breath. His training was perfect, and this would have been a standard, highly effective solution for almost anyone. <br/><br/>The man before him was the property of one of the few groups in the world who not only hated the League but had the means to combat them. In Thirteen's head was a computer's worth of data about the League, it's members, everything Cadmus had. <br/><br/>Superman was Omega Priority, but that didn't mean the rest of them weren't important. Introducing himself was probably one of the most dangerous things Robin had ever done, as Thirteen's head twitched violently for a few moments before returning to normal. <br/><br/>Without the helmet to reinforce his programming, he only <em>wanted</em> to tear him to pieces. He didn't actually do it. He slowly turned away from Robin when he explained that he considered them friends, and only wanted Strongarm, while Thirteen could take whatever it was he came for. <br/><br/>Without speaking, he raised a hand in the direction of the stolen equipment, and among groans and shrieks of metal scraping against concrete, every single piece raised into the air and was then hovered into a cargo container, then that container was sealed and hovered up to float a good fifteen feet in the air, stock-still as if waiting for orders. <br/><br/>"They call me...Thirteen. I think...I think that's my name. Or designation...doesn't matter. I am what they say I am. What <em>she</em> says I am." For a moment, Thirteen contemplated letting Robin take the man. Then the crackling of his earpiece returned and Waller was yelling in it. <br/><br/>An entire tirade, more than usual even. And it ended with her telling him to take the Metahuman, or she'd detonate the charge in his neck and start over. Normally that wouldn't have bothered him, but he knew it had that stuff that made him sick inside it. That could definitely kill him, and then his life would be over. And as awful as it was...it was his. <br/><br/>"Understood." With another look at Strongarm, he raised his hand, summoning him across the ground tumbling and rolling until he bounced off the concrete and Thirteen caught him by the arm. "Orders. He comes with me too. You get to go free. She doesn't want you...yet." Turning on his heel, he slowly began to fly away, only to stop and look over his shoulder. <br/><br/>"Goodbye...Robin." Flying off toward the cloaked ship flying above the clouds, he wondered what a <em>friend</em> was, and why it made his chest feel funny? "Thirteen returning to transport. All assets succesfully recovered; all opposition...eliminated."</span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>"Thirteen..."</strong> Damian whispered.<br/><br/><em>Is there more of him?!</em><br/><br/>At the end of the day, though it was not exactly the preferred outcome but it was nonetheless a positive outcome. He'd come away with his life. Being this close to him, having the opportunity to witness an array of godlike powers coming from a single being and come away with it alive. He breathed a sigh of relief. <br/><br/>He would still require an immediate medical, his body wracked by injuries that would've incapacitated a regular human being. Only the will of his mind drove him onward. Otherwise, he would've collapsed a long time ago. <br/><br/>Chuckling weakly, aware that he didn't really have much of a say in the matter, he relinquished custody of the villain, <strong>"Heh, well, a good soldier follows orders, eh?"</strong><br/><br/>Besides overwhelming physical traits, Damian realized Thirteen also possessed telekinetic abilities of a respectable level. He pondered how exactly such a powerful mix of powers could belong to a single humanoid being. After Raven's sudden appearance in Gotham, he speculated on Thirteen being an otherworldly monster like the pale-skinned sorceress he'd encountered. <br/><br/><em>Great, another overly powerful alien to deal with.</em><br/><br/>He remained stationary on the same spot even after Thirteen had flown away a while ago. There were clues within the black super's dialogue. Clues he instinctively knew could set the foundation for an entirely new investigation into the superbeing called 'Thirteen'.<br/><br/><strong>"ARGH!"</strong><br/><br/>Damian fell on one knee and coughed out a glob of blood. He felt weak. Too weak. His plane, the Birdplane, was already on the way to his location to extract him. Meanwhile, the faint sirens of cop cars reached his ears. The dark-haired teen looked around him, surveying his surroundings. There was only destruction and death. <br/><br/>With a grim face, he managed to stand up, albeit shakily. Picking up his mask, half of it missing, he knew there was a new threat in town to contend with. And, he'd already compiled an idea of what exactly he was up against. <br/><br/><em>Black ops jargon infers state-sanctioned actor or maybe a highly organized terrorist cell. Mention of 'transport' indicates substantial operational support. And this 'she' he repeatedly mentions...I suspect his handlers were watching the whole thing unfold this entire time...</em> <br/><br/>He coughed again and clutched at his chest, his hand trembling. The pain seemed to rise and fall. It was agonizing. When his aircraft arrived, he slowly stepped up the ramp and felt his legs go limp, collapsing upon the pilot's seat. Autopilot was already on so he didn't have to do anything more as his plane began the trip back home.  <br/><br/>Damian inserted his USB into his plane's computer system. A holographic display flashed up before him. A myriad of documentation appeared, without a doubt confusing for those unfamiliar with reading such information. He scrolled through the library and accessed the most recent dockings. He blinked. <br/><br/><strong>"Washington...DC."</strong></span><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><em>END?</em></span></span></div>