The docks stretched out like a skeletal hand into black water, the glow of fire behind them painting everything in jagged shadows. Zane and Artemis slowed as they approached, both of them instinctively lowering into a cautious stride.
"Its quiet...too.."
"Please don't say cliches like that Zane, it makes you sound like a dork." Artemis interuppted Zane with a mock glare.
With hands raised in defense, he said, "Just trying to lighten the mood, I can see your bothered."
Artemis sighed.
"Its nothing, just bothered at how...that guy manhandled us like we were kids. You should've seen him Zane, he wasnt even trying..." she thought back to the fight with lingering frustration.
"Ohh...so thats what this is about....you dont have to feel bad, Arrowette. That guy could piece me up just as easily to be honest."
Zane breathed a sigh of relief, he thought she was bothered with him killing mammoth. Turns out she was just feeling salty about her defeat.
"You say that, but I've never even once seen you lose. No matter who tour fighting, you always just...know....what to do next! It kinda makes me feel.....*sigh*...nevermind me."
Sighing, Artemis shook those thoughts out of her head. She didn't need to be feeling like that right now.
Before azane could comfort her, they came across a horrific scene...
Bodies lay sprawled across the concrete.
Kobra cultists, their serpent-marked uniforms torn and stained dark. Some clutched at their throats even in death, others had fallen mid-step, as if their killers had struck with terrifying precision. None had weapons in hand.
Artemis crouched by one, her eyes scanned the scene. "These guys didn't even fight back. Rather, they didn't get the chance, they were executed."
Zanes eyes caught movement near the end of the dock. A small speedboat, tied loosely to the pier, its engine still faintly warm. Stacked along the floor of the boat were metal cases, their lids half-ajar. Inside, vials of glowing purple liquid glimmered faintly, unmistakable even in the shifting light.
"Kobra Venom," Zane said flatly.
Artemis narrowed her eyes, Zane has already told her what this was. "Looks like they were about to ship it out. Whoever killed them—"
She stopped. Zane had already tensed, his head snapping toward the shadows stretching across the dock.
A figure moved. Just a silhouette against the faint glow of fire and water.
And then it lunged.
---
Inside the factory, chaos reigned.
The fire had already chewed through parts of the structure, beams groaning and snapping under the heat. Smoke rolled in thick, choking clouds, stinging eyes and burning lungs. The heat was suffocating, every breath a fight against the urge to cough.
Connor smashed through a fallen support beam, tossing the splintered remains aside like twigs. His chest heaved as he found two cultists trapped beneath. Not enemies now—just terrified people.
"Go," he barked, hauling one to his feet with a force that nearly lifted the man off the ground. "Run!"
The cultist didn't hesitate, stumbling toward the nearest exit, coughing violently.
Connor turned back, pulling the second free. The man's leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, broken badly. Connor grit his teeth, lifted him into his arms, and surged through the smoke, using his shoulder to knock aside falling rubble.
Wally zipped in and out of the haze, moving so fast he was practically a strobe light against the flickering flames. He grabbed two more cultists in an instant, ferrying them toward the exit with blinding efficiency.
"Man, talk about terrible OSHA compliance!" he quipped, though his grin was tight, his eyes darting constantly. "Seriously, fire exits? Sprinklers? Snake cult or not, this place is a lawsuit waiting to happen!"
Connor didn't even bother responding, his focus entirely on keeping the injured alive. The fire roared louder, beams collapsing in bursts of sparks, but they pressed forward, pulling more and more people free.
Whatever sins these cultists carried, tonight wasn't their night to die—at least not by fire.
---
The factory air reeked of smoke and oil. Shadows stretched long across the walls as Robin led the way along a catwalk, silent and sure-footed. He never looked back—he didn't need to. They should be right where they were supposed to be. That's how Batman taught him.
As they moved further and further inside.. he spotted a patrol below, two cultists pacing near a stack of crates.
With a quick hand signal at his teamates, Robin vaulted the railing, dropping straight into the shadows behind them. He moved fast and sharp. In his head, Aqualad and Speedy would already be repositioning, ready to cover him.
They weren't.
Robin snapped out his birdarang, striking one cultist across the temple before the man could shout.
But the other, who was supposed to be taken out by them, spun, eyes going wide. A shot cracked from his gun, aimed straight at Robin.
BANG!
Robin quickly jumped behind a crate, seeking cover.
Before the cultist could shoot a second time, Aqualad shot out a whip of water, slashing the Ak in half.
"What the!?" The cultist looked at the tow pieces of his weapon in horror!
BANG!
Before he got the chance to do anything else, Speedy appearded from behind him to kock him out with a neck chop.
Robin's teeth clenched as he stood up from behind the crate. 'They should've moved faster. They should've been ready.'
"OVER THERE!! INTRUDERS!!!"
"GET THEM!"
But it was already late, a patrol team were ready running this way.
"Real smooth," Speedy spat as he stood over the cultists body, loosing an arrow that scattered the patrol with an explosive blast. "That little stunt just blew our cover."
Robin's glare cut sharp. "Maybe if you actually paid attention, we wouldn't have been seen in the first place. I told you to take the other one down!"
Speedy scoweled, as angry as ever. "Your the one that jumped in without waiting! I didnt have a chance to react!"
Bullshit!
Robins first were clenched as he glared at Speedy.
Althout they may not get along, but he knows Speedys reaction ability. By the time Robins feet landed, he should've already let an Arrow lose....
He did this on purpose...!
Seeing this get heated, Aqualad moved.
"Enough," he said, stepping between them. His tone carried over the gunfire, steady and unshaken. He drew his water-bearers with a fluid sweep, deflecting incoming rounds with spirals of hardened water.
Aqualad's expression stayed composed, his voice even. "Robin, this is a live mission, not Gotham. You slipped back into your old habits—working alone, expecting us to follow your lead without question. You already know thats not how our team works...."
Robin's chest tightened. They'd trained together for weeks, and he thought he'd shaken that tendency. But under real pressure, he'd defaulted to what he knew best—operating alone.
Aqualad turned then, his tone sharpening as his eyes fixed on Speedy. "And undermining his calls on purpose? That only weakens us further."
Speedy bristled but didn't argue. Not with Aqualad. He might sneer at Robin all day, ut Aqualad was the only one in the team he felt some semblance of respect towards...
Aqualad pointed to a narrow passage off to the right, voice firm. "There. We fall back, regroup, and strike from their flank."
Robin's pride twisted in his gut. He wanted to argue, to take control back—but he felt like Aqualad was right. He gave a short, clipped nod.
Aqualad surged forward, covering their retreat with controlled sweeps of water, calm even under fire. Speedy followed, loosing another arrow to buy time. Robin trailed last, jaw tight.
Maybe he wasnt cut out to be a leader....