Vigilante Justice - A Young Justice Fanfiction

Chapter 22: A Punch in the Face (Literally and Figuratively)

Entering the subconscious mind of an infamous vigilante should've been a lot more terrifying, but M'gann felt only guilt.

Guilt over betraying this individual's trust; guilt over how she was now rifling through what few memories weren't locked behind those nearly impenetrable mental shields of his.

Time was passing much slower outside their minds, Nightwing's mouth still in the process of opening as he made ready to say...whatever it was he was going to say.

M'gann was telepathic, not psychic. She couldn't predict his next words.

Hopefully they wouldn't have anything to do with her taking a trip to the emergency room. Although, she supposed rather morbidly, since they were already standing on a hospital roof, at least the trip would be a short one.

Pictures, thoughts, and feelings flew by her in a blur. Some of them made sense while others were foreign. Incomprehensible without context.

A confusing mental picture of some kind of jail cell stuck out to her, the scene deeply connected with pain. Kids crowded the walls and bare beds. Was Nightwing a criminal? Was he dodging a sentence?

But then why had all the inmates been children? Perhaps a juvenile detention centre?

...Just how old was he? Surely, he hadn't gone to prison when he was still acting as Robin. M'gann highly doubted the authorities would let someone that high profile simply walk away.

M'gann shook it off, letting the jail scene and all her questions fade. She'd have to bring it up with the team later. Maybe Artemis would have some insight into Robin's early days? Out of all of them, she seemed to know the most about Gotham and its dark history.

She managed to go a little deeper, moving further and further, until—

There was another flash of images all entangled complexly with the word home—an old manor house; a ring of brightly coloured tents; a smoggy city scape; the arms of an old, greying man—before M'gann collided headfirst into one of the hardest mental barriers she'd encountered since Psimon.

It was so hard that the Martian was ejected back into her own mind, her legs wobbling as she blinked mulishly, the glowing green of her eyes slowly fading.

Hopefully, Nightwing hadn't seen their luminescence through the cowl covering her upper face. There hadn't been anything about that strange Red-something-something code in the thoughts she'd scanned; nothing about an identity or non-vigilante persona.

Wherever those thoughts lay, they were deeply secured behind his mental shields.

When she finally felt settled in her own mind again, she rasped out another weak, "Robin?"

One look at Nightwing's expression, however, and she knew the jig was up.

His mouth snapped into a thin line as he studied her. What she wouldn't give to see inside his head right now. "You're not Batman."

The man said it like he almost didn't want to believe it. The lenses of his mask narrowed, as if he was going over their conversation up till that point and running some mental damage control.

"What'd we miss?" The sudden question sent eddies of pain throughout her skull and she couldn't resist pressing a hand to her temple.

Whoever had trained Nightwing in shielding really, really knew what they were doing. She was going to have a headache for days. That is, if she survived these next few minutes.

Nightwing took in her pained expression and snapped his fingers to get her attention. "I told you not to root around in my mind, Martian." His voice was hoarse, but firm. Like he was still in the process of pushing down unspoken panic.