Dante’s journey back home on foot, while the safest option, is rather lengthy. It’s a good time to reflect though. 

 

“So she killed the Joker. Before Raptor News took over on every channel, when I was a kid at Saint Lamia’s, I remember Gotham City being a really big deal on T.V. for a while. I used to watch news stories about Batman and Robin taking on the Joker. I always thought Robin would be the coolest guy to be friends with.”

 

The sun starts to rise, like a slave-driving fry that makes one wish they would never wake up to face another unforgiving day in Hell.

 

“Then Hell started to take over and slowly it cut Limbo City off from the rest of the world, with Bob Barbas and his one-sided news about everybody being a terrorist. That sucked but it also sucks that Vergil’s trafficking people from Gotham City to live here. I mean, unless he accidentally kidnaps Batman and Robin. Those two would clean this place up, I bet. It would be so funny to see Robin kick him in the face. I thought I saw Robin once in a rift, now that I think about it.”

 

The sound of someone in distress catches his ear.

 

“Is this real?” the victim sobs. “How is this happening to me again? I don’t understand!”

 

Dante halts, “That sounds like a kid.” 

 

Viperous taunting, “You know I really should be thanking you. You see, ever since my dear sweet HARLEY went and killed me, I’ve broken down into bits and pieces. Duplicated into low tier devils that even someone like you could destroy… if you weren’t so afraid of me. You’re just being nice, aren’t you. Are those tears real? Oh, you’re too kind, Robin.”

 

“No way,” whispers Dante. 

 

Electrical sparking. He can tell, he can already see it in his head, demons with television boxes for skulls are nearby. 

 

“Damn tele-devils.” 

 

Tele-devils. They wear grey suits, loafers, and toon gloves. Their coiled metal necks bounce up and down like slinkies. They might seem silly, but when they explode, Dante knows firsthand, that it’s not a pretty picture. 

 

He elusively spots one next to a clownish devil, badgering a costumed teenager… one in a cape and a mask, on his knees, hands and feet tied behind his back. 

 

“Robin. Holy shit, that’s him,” Dante quietly gasps, then scoffs, “and a stupid Joker demon.”

 

“I haven’t had this much fun since I was alive! Though, I do hate that I need this tele-devil to protect me from well, pretty much everything but you!”

 

“How did I get here?!”

 

“You don’t remember how you got here, little birdie? Allow me to jog your memory. Let’s make this tele-devil more useful, shall we?”

 

He pounds his fist on top of the tele-devil’s box, forcing it to tune in to a broadcast from the past. Observing from behind a pile of broken concrete, Dante plans his attack. 

 

“I’ll save you, Robin. If I pounce at the right time, there won’t even be a fight.”

 

The Joker demon reports snidely, “A police squadron emptied it’s van of a reluctant prisoner, one strapped to a gurney and wearing a straitjacket, a spit hood over his head. He was sedated but that wasn’t enough to calm poor Red Hood. Golly, he reminds me of somebody I know. Wouldn’t you agree, Robin?”

 

The tele-devil displays…

 

“NO, DON’T PUT ME BACK IN ARKHAM ASYLUM! NO PLEASE!!! NOOOOO!!!!”

 

“Great, it’s the press,” a doctor says, his voice somehow discernible over the new inmate’s shrieking. They wheel him inside as fast as they can but the whole thing’s already been caught on camera.

 

A reporter appears on the screen.

 

“This is Vicki Vale reporting live from Arkham Asylum, where the GCPD has taken the infamous Red Hood inside.

 

Red Hood, whose real name is Jason Peter Todd, became Gotham’s resident Devil Hunter, after a terrible demonic invasion began to plague our city several months ago. Last week, he was convicted of mass murder, whereupon he pled guilty of killing eighteen confirmed members of the False Face Society. 

 

Before this, Red Hood made a name for himself as a vigilante, eradicating violent demons nesting in lower income neighborhoods. Many residents of these neighborhoods describe Red Hood as their hero and protector, embracing and appropriating what was meant to be an insult by the mayor, who once called the vigilante, the Poor Man’s Devil Hunter. 

 

When his twenty year sentence at Arkham Asylum was announced, over three hundred spectators rallied in front of the South Gotham Courthouse to petition against imprisoning him.

 

His imprisonment adds to the brewing controversy here at the asylum, revolving around the death of the Joker. Joker’s killer, the infamous Harley Quinn, is an inmate in the prison. Like Red Hood, despite her criminal track record, some authorities believe her twenty year sentence is too harsh and should be overturned.”

 

Dante pulls his hood over his head and whispers…

 

“This is all kinds of bullshit that Robin doesn’t have time for…"

 

“Feel better now, Little Robin?” says the Joker demon. “Aren’t you relieved to be here? It’s better than Arkham Asylum, am I right?”

 

“Get away from me, devil!”

 

“What’s the matter, Robin? It’s just me, your good old friend, the Joker.”

 

“Don’t call me that! I’m not Robin anymore!”

 

“Oh, but you are! Ya see, in Hell, all your worst nightmares come true! Take me for example, I’m totally dead! A copy, a zombie, a shell of my former self. But who cares?! I like you, Robin. You were always one of my favorite playmates. So impervious to torture, like a little cockroach that wouldn’t die!”

 

BANG BANG BANG BANG! Bullet holes, like Swiss cheese.

 

“Whoa!” Robin yelps, a huge grin overtaking his face.

 

Joker sizzles as he shrieks, melting into tar.

 

“Noooooo! Oooooo that’s gonna leave a mark, Devil Hunter! Fuck you, Dante!” 

 

Dead. 

 

“My hero!” Robin cheers. “Holy shit!”

 

DONK! Dante leaps next to the tele-devil, kicks it a good twenty feet away, blocks Robin, then fires Ebony and Ivory. The demon blows up!

 

“Show’s over,” he says and unveils his inverted red hood. Robin notices a white tuft in the back of his black hair. “And no, fuck you, you little Joker-bitch. I hate these clowns. A bunch of twisted bastards.”

 

He uses his sword to cut Robin free. Then he kneels, sheathing his weapon behind his back, where it disappears. 

 

“Dude, that was really fucking cool, dude!” says the young hero.

 

“Thanks. I know you’re confused but you’re safe, okay? You got pulled into a rift. Lemme help you up.”

 

He wraps his arm around him and helps him stand. Carefully, he guides him forward, setting a manageable pace for him.

 

“I’m, I’m not in Arkham?”

 

“No, sorry, Rob-, um, what should I call you?”

 

“He, he called you a Devil Hunter. I’m one of those things too.”

 

“You are?”

 

“Yeah, I kill demons in Gotham. There was an invasion. Ugh, I think I’m gonna puke.”

 

“Yeah, you don’t look so good. You okay coming back to my place for now? You’re kinda screwed up.”

 

He steadies him by holding his shoulders, then he brushes his white fringe away from his eyes so he can examine his face.

 

“Ho man, you look so young in person. I always thought you were the same age as me, Rob-umm, sorry, uh, kid?”

 

A tele-devil horde encircles them, their faces displaying various broadcasts of the Joker, all of them chanting… 

 

“He’s not my Robin!”

“That’s what the fans have proclaimed!”

“He’s not my Dante!”

“That’s what the fans have proclaimed!”

 

Robin searches his utility belt for his weapons.

 

“What does that even mean? Where are my guns?!”

 

Dante goes back to back with him, with a warning.

 

“You don’t wanna fire a gun at these guys when we’re this close, kid.”

 

“I’m not a kid! I’m a killer! I’m the Red Hoo-”

 

He bends over and throws up, but nothing comes out. He’s too dehydrated. 

 

The tele-devils short-circuit.

 

“Awe shit, you’re more messed up than I thought.”

 

“I’m,” gag, “old enough to kick your ass,” heave.

 

“Are you too old for a piggyback ride? Because we need to fuck off, and fast. Hop on my back, go on, do it.”

 

The Devil Hunter manifests a pearly grappling hook to lift them away. Dizzily, Robin comments…

 

“Oh hey, nice grappling hook. I had one of those once.” 

 

He leaps onto his back and they take off, just as…

 

Baboom-boom-BOOM! The demons self-destruct!

 

“Woah, that was close!” Robin exclaims.

 

As they soar in the air, from pillars, to warehouses, to crumbled ruins, Robin watches everything fall behind, over his shoulder. His shredded, black cape flowing up and down with each jump and pull. He can’t take his eyes off it and it gives him a terrible revelation. He faces forward, his heart racing.

 

“I really am Robin…”

 

He passes out, his grip loosening, his body slipping and ragdolling in the air.

 

“Are you shitting me?!” Dante cries. 

 

Devil Trigger!

 

A burst of demonic power! It skews Robin’s fall by bringing him to a float, giving Dante enough time to dive down and catch him. They hit the ground and tumble, Dante’s body taking the brunt of the fall. 

 

Blood dripping from his nostrils, Robin lies, out cold. His face looking way too relaxed and peaceful.

 

“NOOOO!!! Robin, NO!!!” he listens for a heartbeat, exhaling with great relief upon hearing a speedy thump. “Oh man, that’d be so sad if Robin died. No worries, Robin, I can carry you.”

 

He picks him up, making sure to support his head.

 

“I’ve got some meds that I think will help. I won’t letchu bite the dust, man. I gotchu, my guy.”