This Ain't Gotham

Not Whelmed

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or images.

Also this is my first YJ and Avengers fanfic. Please no haters, but I will accept constructive criticism. Reviews are always greatly appreciated!

Third Person POV

      It started as a loud ringing in his ears, effectively waking him from his comatose-like sleep. His eyes squinted beneath his domino mask as he tried to understand where he was and what had happened. As his sense of awareness came back, a flash of pain struck across his right torso, and he grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

    "He's awake," an unfamiliar voice said. Male, he automatically calculated, and it held a firm tone, but nowhere near as close as Batman's. His eyes opened fully, taking in his surroundings for the first time. A med-bay, but not one he knew.

    There were three figures standing around him. Two males, one female. The one closest to him was a man with blond hair dressed in a costume themed like the American flag. Behind him stood a redheaded woman in a black Kevlar bodysuit. On the other side of his bed hunched a docile looking man with dark hair just beginning to gray, and he was dressed in a lab coat. Out of all them, he seemed the most normal, but he almost swore he saw the veins in his neck glow green.

    Robin attempted to sit up, hissing as the movement brought on a fresh sting of pain. The patriot laid a hand on his shoulder and gently forced him back down.

    "Don't worry, kid, you're safe with us."

  The whites of his mask narrowed into slits, one hand subtly reaching for his belt under his sheet, only to realize it wasn't there. A quick glance showed him that it had been placed on a chair out of his immediate reach, as well as the rest of his uniform. His cheeks tinged red as he realized the only thing he was wearing was a patient's robe.

     Man, I am so grounded, he thought. Batman was going to kill him for letting them take his gear, but knowing that they hadn't removed his mask eased him enough to stop planning his own funeral and focus on the situation at hand. He mentally snickered at the thought of one of the strangers getting a nasty shock for trying to take off his mask.

    Robin was pulled out of his musing by the blond patriot meeting his shrouded gaze, "Hey, kid, you've got some nasty marks. You wanna tell us about them?" he asked with an almost concerned tone. The boy wonder could only imagine. If they had seen what his chest and torso looked like beneath his tunic, then he could guess what their reactions had been. Some of the scars had been there since his first night fighting at Batman's side.

    "No, not really," he quipped, "Thanks for patching me though. I'll be on my way."

    He fought to restrain a grimace as he attempted to sit up, but he was promptly, yet gently, pushed back down by the man in blue.

   "Not so fast, son," he chided, making Robin's gaze darken unintentionally, "It'll take a little bit for you to recuperate. Why don't you tell us your name?"

     "The name's Robin, and unless you want to talk to the Batman, I'd suggest you let me go," he ordered sharply. He didn't trust these people; he'd have to be careful getting out. But to his surprise, the only reaction he got from the three adults was a look of confusion.

    "Who's Batman?" the woman asked, and the bird immediately fell into a state of cackling. He had to calm himself, however, when it began to make his side throb painfully.

    "You're joking, right? Batman, the Dark Knight? Protector of Gotham? You'd have to live under a rock to not know who he is!"

   "Never heard of him," she replied, arms crossed.