I dunno. I made this 4 in the morning while eating a cup of ramen. (Meaning the only editing done to this thing is random spell check with my coffee addled mind) Jeez, first fics are actually really scary. When I have time, I'll post this onto AO3 too, so if you see an account there with the same name, it's me. I'll link it in the profile (I think) Some Damian bash, but Damian's actually really cool. No Alfred ;-; Like i said, first fic. Eh, not much else to say. Enjoy~
"If you don't get down here in 10 seconds, I'm gonna kick your ass to next Sunday!" an exasperated shout came from downstairs. Timothy could only grab an ugly green bow tie off his desk as more angry shouting and a large thump erupted from his brother. Tim raced downstairs, almost stumbling over the guard railings of the second floor. "I think that when the invitations said 7 PM," Dick mouthed off with an awaiting grin, "they didn't make you an exception, princess." Tim pretended to look offended. Dick was never really angry.
"I bet the invites don't mention 5'10 monster kidnapping their little brother from school so they could shop for better dress suits, which I didn't need, by the way," Tim huffed with his arms crossed. Dick gave a pointed stare before opening the large double doors. As soon as they stepped outside the mansion, a cool gust of wind greeted them. The stars were hidden under foreboding clouds, like a beautiful piece of artwork splattered by gray, dull paint. The two siblings walked to a car that would be picking them up, making small talk.
"Say," Tim began, "you know that kid that was following us around the other day and stealing our car tires?" There was a moment of silence before Dick responded, his voice strained with something that sounded like pride. Wait a second, pride? You're overthinking it, stupid. "Yeah. I've caught him snooping around before. You gonna do your detective thing?" Tim shook his head. People that knew him considered Tim to be a smart crime-solver type of person (which pissed Tim off a bit). He had solved a case just by watching it on TV before. The two arrived at the black Mercedes that had just pulled up. The unsmiling chauffeur opened the door for the both of them before returning to his place in the driver seat. "Is there any reason you haven't hauled his tiny ass off to jail yet?" Tim had to ask.
Dick raised a brow and a half smile quirked onto his face. "Is this jealousy I sense?" Dick says, putting a hand on Tim's forehead as if if he were reading Tim's mind. "Don't worry, bro. It's not like you can be instantly replaced in the first place. Sorry I gotta work late tonight, so I can't join you in your conquest for love." Tim swiped the hand off in growing paranoia and growled, "You're gonna be the death of me you idiot," in a quiet voice. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
"Oh, driver, you can stop right here," Dick called out. The car slowed in front of a funky building with statues littered across the yard. Tim was exiting the car, but a hand tugged him back inside. "Are you insane?" Dick hissed playfully. "That is about the ugliest bow tie I have ever seen. How are you supposed to impress the girl with that?" He ripped Tim's old bow tie off and pocketed it. Dick pulled out a sleek blue tie that seemed to have come from nowhere and quickly wrapped it around Tim's neck. He easily tied it while saying, "You can thank me later. Stand straight and be honest with her. Go get 'em!" Then, Dick shoved Tim out of the car before his quick mind could process anything that had just happened. 'How did you know about the girl?' Tim wanted to say, but what came out was a stunned silence. As the car sped away, Dick waved goodbye. "Drink responsibly and call if you need anything!" were his departing words.
There wasn't really a girl, but there was a pretty someone named Cassandra that Tim was too scared to ask out. He was quite an intellectual person, but he was a lost soul around her. Maybe tonight would be a good night. After all, he had mustered up enough courage to ask her to come with him to this party (as a friend), so why not take the next big step? (That is an absolutely false statement; Cassie was the one who invited Tim) Tim waved his ticket in front of the man at the door, who then, in turn, let him in and pointed upstairs. It was a small party, with 50 or so people. A large man introduced himself to Tim as 'Quentin Yates, a friend of your step-mother' and offered Tim some sherry wine. He rejected the drink with politeness and a mild disgust. Sherry wine? Whoever chose the drinks should be fired. The man mumbled, "Suit yourself," before downing the glass in one gulp. His step-mother was chatting with some other pretentious families when she spotted him and waved her hand. Tim ducked into the crowd to avoid her.
Tim's 'date' was dressed in a blue-ish green high collared gown flowing to her knees, matching the color of her glowing eyes. She laughed at a joke one of her friends made, and a pleasant tinkling sound made its way to Tim's ears. "Cassie?" Tim walked up to her. "Tim! Guys? Meet one of my best friends, Timothy Drake. Tim, meet my girl-friends, Stephanie, Barbara, and Helen!" They stared at Tim suspiciously, making Tim hold his hands in front of him as if to say 'I come in peace and mean no harm'. Luckily for him, a inconspicuous guy started collecting everyone's phones because people weren't mingling enough.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tim spotted Hugh Jackman approaching them. Tim inwardly groaned and came up with three ways to escape. One, dart off into the bathroom; two, dart outside; or three, dart outside with Cassie. Before he could choose any plan of escaping, the jock spewed out familiar words. "Look, it's our resident genius, Timothy Break! I wonder where you got your invitation from. A dump in an alleyway?" Maybe Hugh had toned down a bit since his first year, but it didn't make up for the lost time and crushed projects. Tim never mentioned anything about him near Dick, because if he did, Hugh probably wouldn't show up to school ever again. 'Please be attracted to a rock or something, please don't go up to Cassie and kiss her,' Tim begged.
Hugh wrapped a bulky arm around Cassie, and planted a kiss on her forehead. At that moment, Tim Drake had come to the conclusion that they were dating and all hope was lost before he ever even tried. Of course someone like Hugh was straight as an arrow. He slowly slipped away from their conversation, but Tim didn't allow himself to get hung up about it. Maybe he should try some of that sherry wine. He adjusted his tie and loosened it up. A small, crumpled sheet of paper fell out. It read, 'I'm sorry, but I know the only reason you would loosen your tie is if you got rejected. Don't beat yourself up, kid.' was scrawled in neat cursive. Tim couldn't help but grin a little. He ignored the fact that the handwriting seemed a bit off, almost as if it were . . .
A hand grasped his left shoulder tightly and Tim knew it was his stepmother before he even turned around. "What do you want?" he snapped in a harsh tone. To his surprise, it wasn't his stepmom, and in fact, it was the guy with the zipped up leather brown biker jacket collecting phones. "I'm sorry," Tim apologized meekly, biting his lower lip; Tim handed over his phone. There was no response, and Tim couldn't even get a closer look of the guy's face. The next person that approached Tim was his stepmother, immediately commenting on the way he was dressed and how he stood. He got tired of it quickly, but refused to let his emotions out. Instead, he reeled in his anger and told his stepmother that he would speak with her tomorrow.
And so she left, shooting one last disapproving glance at Tim. Some of Dick's one-liners would be a relief right now. Tim felt mentally exhausted and reached into his right pocket for his phone, and then he remembered that he gave it to some stranger in a biker jacket. Damn. Now that Tim was mentally sane again, he chastised himself for giving away his phone so easily. Where was the box? By now, the man should have been done collecting all the guests' phones. Where would he put the box . . . ? If the man really worked with the staff, then the box would be kept underneath a reception table somewhere. If not, then this man was a very smart thief that would probably be gone by now. However, the man was still in the area. Tim could see him dragging a cigarette and leaning on an ornate lion statue through the glass windows. Not wanting to seem suspicious, Tim went to all the tables and shelves, seemingly in search for a tissue box. Finally under a black oak table was the cardboard box from before and several party favors. To his relief, all the phones were still there when he opened the box. So he was just overly paranoid after all.
Tim found his red phone quite easily and tucked it back into his right pocket where it belonged. He put the box back and hurriedly walked to a corner, trying the look as if he were doing something. The man outside took one last puff and flicked the cigarette into a nearby garbage can. So this man wasn't the type to throw cigars onto street corners, no matter how much it seemed as if he would. While staring at the man, Tim didn't watch where he was going, walking into one of the waiting staff. "Ah, shit," Tim exclaimed. This was the second time tonight, and this time, the cocktails and martinis were spilled all over his hands. A janitor was called to clean up the mess while Tim apologized profusely. Things haven't been going Tim's way all night.
Tim continued his thought process as he wiped his hands with a plain handkerchief his late mother gave him. The man looked like he was in his twenties, not to mention that he was originally a ginger but dyed his hair a dark midnight black, almost blue. Tim could tell because the man's roots were starting to show. He still couldn't get a good look at the man's face and opted to go wash his hand. Before anyone else could approach him, Tim hustled into the nearest men's washroom. Tim stared blankly into a bathroom mirror as a stream of icy water trickled onto his hands. He felt a shiver run through his spine after he wrung out the handkerchief and stuffed it back into his pocket. Sighing, Tim took out his phone and pressed the first number on speed dial.
A thunderous crack rung from outside the restroom, echoing off the ceramic walls and tiles. Tim's chest froze in fear. His eyes widened as he realized what the crack was. Anyone could mistaken it for thunder on the hills, but there was currently no storm and no extra force behind the crackle. Tim has never heard a gun go off before, but that's probably what it would sound like. Had a really gun gone off outside? Deciding to wash his hands was the best decision Tim had made all night, besides getting his phone back. Had someone been on the receiving end of that bullet?
A pre-pubescent voice answered Dick's phone and shook Tim out of his daze. "Y'ello? Resident Dick Grayson's a bit busy teaching cool stuff to an amazing student. Ha! You guessed it. Lucky me!" Tim's fear was ebbing, and a twisted rage was building up. He could hear Dick in the background saying, "Damian! Who is it? Is it a hot chick?" and Damian responded, "Nah, it's some boring guy called Tim. What a lame name!" Tim could hear loud cursing coming from Dick. Tim shut his phone off. What the hell? Why was Dick hanging out with this kid again? Didn't Tim just tell him not to before he left for the party? Tim pressed his back against the clean bathroom wall and slid down. How long had Dick been lying to him?
A low rumbling was heading towards the restroom. No, it was footsteps. Tim knew he should be calling the police or something, but . . . Tim turned the phone back on and dialed 911. The operator spoke, "Hello? Is there a problem?" Tim was about to say 'bullet', but a gloved hand covered his mouth. The leather on it smelled warm and spicy but also bitter, like cigarettes. Gloves could be Kevlar branded, he noted. Tim was right all along; it really was the guy collecting cell phones. Another hand was gripping the back of his head. Tim wanted to kick himself for sitting in a place where he couldn't clearly see the door. "Is this a joke? Hello?" the operator asked, clearly annoyed. Tim heard the man speak for the first time.
"I'm sorry, I thought I heard a gunshot, but it was just someone dropping a vase, " the man spoke, the baritone of his voice reverberating through Tim's bones. The man didn't sound apologetic at all, only cold and distant. Tim heard the phone shut close with a click. Aw shit. Tim knew he was basically dead at this point. He hung his head and stared at the ground.
Instead, the mystery man shoved the phone back into Tim's pocket and hoisted him off the ground. He shoved Tim lightly towards the door. They slowly walked back to where the rest of the guests were. After leaving the hallway leading to the bathroom, Tim lifted his head, only to stare Cassie's red face, with dry tear trails. The man let go of Tim, so he rush toward Cassie to comfort her.
"What happened, Cassie?" Tim said quietly, rubbing small comforting circles on her back. "T-The man, h-he shot the host. M-Mr. Yates!" All the guests were gathered on one side of the room, so Tim assumed there was now a cold, dead body in a corner somewhere. He peeked behind a shoulder, seeing a dark red hole in a body on the floor that oozed blood onto the floor. The body also foamed at the mouth. Tim turned back around, only to see the man approach Hugh.
"Cassie? What did Hugh do?"
"I-I-I'm not sure-"
"Cassie you gotta tell me, y'know, so I can solve this and get you out of here."
"Hugh, he told the m-man that he saw you going into the restroom. Then the man went to check to see if Hugh was lying or not!" Cassie finally broke out. Tim was too worried to be angry; of course Hugh told the man where Tim was. God.
"So I told you where a guy was. You gonna let me go as a reward?" Hugh smirked triumphantly at Tim. Hugh thought that he'd be set free if he complied and proved himself to be helpful. The mystery man's face was still not visible to Tim, but he could see the man drag Hugh roughly towards the exit. Then the man then proceeded to grab Hugh's left arm and twist it beyond fixing. The scream that came from Hugh told Tim how merciless this man was and how enormous the level of the pain was. Tim felt a perverse sense of satisfaction curling in his gut from Hugh's pain. It was wrong to enjoy watching someone be tortured. The man threw Hugh onto the floor and put a heavy foot on Hugh's back. Did no one try to escape while the man went to find Tim? Or find their phones? Or do anything remotely smart at all? They were all going to die, dammit.
"If any of you are to address me, which I don't think is very likely, you can call me-" Tim's phone rang at the worst time imaginable. "Stayin' Alive" by Bee Gee's played from Tim's pocket. Tim swallowed and closed his eyes as the crowd starting moving away from him, Cassie included. Tim understood the danger of the situation, although he would feel better with someone he knew standing near him. But there wasn't. The man tilted his head at the ring tone and removed his foot from Hugh's back. Hugh was still convulsing on the floor, clutching his arm in agony and twitching uncontrollably. The man walked towards Tim; the heavy thud of his combat boots moving closer was the only sound Tim could hear besides his own rapid heartbeat. Tim stood deathly still and didn't breathe, but reopened his eyes for more observation. It turned out that Dick really would be the death of him. Of all the times to call Tim, now was the worst.
Tim's brain was turned on rapid fire like a switch. There were no windows in the bathroom. There were glass windows in this building though, and people outside. Judging by the look of those people outside, they didn't see nor hear anything. That meant this building had one way windows and soundproof walls. Unlucky. All the door and windows were probably locked, because the perpetrator seemed careful. He may not know about the fire escape, but Tim didn't know whether this building even had one or not. So Tim was locked in a room with 50 other people, one injured, one dead, one being a murdering psychopath (probably). And Tim's phone just went off. Sudden loud noises amidst silence could cause a panic attack in most cut-throat criminals, causing them to act more violently and stop thinking. Not only that, but the ringtone of Tim's phone was "Stayin' Alive", which may cause more unforeseen consequences due to the lyrics. The man had only tilted his head at the ring tone and didn't burst into a fit of anger. Maybe he wasn't an insane psychopath? The man was moving closer.
Oh god, what should Tim do? Could he out-brawl a muscular man with weapons, with the little self-defense that Tim learned from Dick? This thought led to Tim wondering about how Damian was currently getting self-defense arts from Dick. Ignore it, Tim. Don't get off topic. Guns! How many guns did the guy have? Two automatic handguns were visible and being used, and Tim could see the bulge of another firearm inside the man's jacket. The man was now right in front of Tim. Tim's phone seemed to be ringing endlessly and he didn't dare answer it. Time was up. The man leaned over Tim, reaching into Tim's pocket for the phone. Now from up close, Tim could tell that the man's build was twice of Tim's and stood around 6 feet tall.
The man interrupted his train of thought by whispering into Tim's left ear. The gravelly voice murmured, "Nice ring tone you got there, kid." Tim could feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand and the tips of his ears heating up. The man pulled back and Tim could finally see his facial features. The front of the man's hair was dyed a silverish white color, and his facial expression seemed smug and relaxed. For now. If Dick were here, he would call this guy 'another pretty face' and then proceed to beat him up, but he wasn't. He was with Damian, safe and not threatened by this guy. Tim almost felt ashamed for wanting Dick to be here.
Was it wrong that Tim thought this guy looked insanely attractive? Tim blinked twice and scolded himself. The man gave a confident smirk as his finger hovered over the phone.
The man pressed talk and let the caller speak. "Tim? I know what it sounded like but I swear I wouldn't do that to you! You gotta let me explain, okay? Tim? Hello? Are you there?" Tim knew Damian was still there, judging by the sound of clashing bo staffs and the squeaky sounds of a gym floor. There were also two pairs of footsteps. A muffled voice that clearly belonged to Damian said, "When're you gonna teach me that secret move that nobody knows about?" Tim wanted to answer Dick, scream into the phone, anything. He reached for it, only for mystery man to swipe the phone away and speak into it.
"Jason here, but you can call me Jay. Timmy and I are gonna become very close pals by the end of this party. He's kinda been feeling down lately, with people turning their backs on him as of late. Ya get what I mean, right Dickie?" the man, no, Jason cooed, ending the sentence with a cruel and mocking laugh. 'How did this guy know Dick's name? What did he want to do with me?' Tim panicked. Jason's eyes were fixed on Tim's since the phone call started.
"Jay? That's impossible! Who are you really? If you know who I am, you'd know not to mess with my family," he skipped a beat and then said, "What are you doing with my brother?" Dick sounded furious, but Tim flinched when he said the word 'brother'. "Ooh, did you see that? Oh silly me, of course you can't see it! I'm just a concerned third party worried about Tim here," Jason ran a hand through his hair, "and this kid just flinched big time when you said the word brother! I wonder if it's 'cuz you guys aren't really brothers, or the fact that Tim doesn't think of you as a brother anymore? Would you like to talk to him?" His voice had a derisive tone, and contempt. Perhaps toward Dick? Or maybe their family? Tim's stepmother had pissed off many powerful people before.
"Stay away from Tim, you sack of shit! Tim, do you hear me? Don't listen to him, don't listen to a word he says-"
Jason raised a gloved hand toward Tim's head and he braced himself for a hard hit, but all Jason did was ruffle Tim's hair, like an older brother. 'No, not like an older brother. He's a fake and a murderer,' Tim chanted to himself over and over again. "You gotta be more specific Dick, I'm touchin' him right now!" Jason laughed into the phone.
"I'll go over there and kill you right now! Get away from him!" Tim gazed at the floor. He could come up with a way to get himself out and safe before Dick could even step a foot out of wherever he was. He wasn't helpless. Except for the fact that this guy seemed stronger than Dick, with 3 additional firearms. How would Tim defeat a stronger version of Dick? His personality was also different from Dick's. Dick was serious but light hearted, whereas this man was sarcastic and cold hearted. Tim really didn't want to admit it, but he was sure this man could beat Dick any day of the week. He wasn't going to say this out loud, of course. Jason walked over to a table and put down both of his handguns. This guy could go from jovial to homicidal in an instant. This could either be a trick to put everyone's guard down, or a mistake on Jason's part, but this gave Tim and the others an opening.
"Aren't you a bit too occupied to come to the party right now? Babysitting. It's not as if you aren't worse than me. How long have you been hanging with that 13 year old runt over Tim in your spare time? Honestly, you haven't gotten any extra work shifts in the past three months, just lying through your teeth," Jason then turned to Tim and said with pursed lips, "Trust me, I know. If you don't believe me, I have billing records, checks, and messages to the runt sealed neatly in a manilla folder hidden in one of my safehouses. Wanna see? All you gotta do is a small favor for me." Dick had been lying about the late night work shifts?
Tim could still hear Dick shouting into the receiver. "Timmy, sit tight I'll get you outta there! Don't let this guy manipulate you! Use your brain, Timothy." Jason sighed and added, "I'll also let you talk to Dick. No cops, though." Tim chewed on his bottom lip and turned his head to the crowd. He saw Cassie mouth, 'You know this guy?' before Jason turned his head back to facing him.
"What do I have to do?" Tim said without a tremble in his voice. "No! Tim c'mon," came a shout from Dick. Jason grinned and casually said, "All you gotta do is call me Jay."
"And?" Tim continued meekly.
"I always knew you were a smart one, detective. Tell me, Timmy. Who's your least favorite person in this room? Not counting me, of course. But I don't think that you would've said my name anyway." Tim's eyes unconsciously drift toward Hugh on the floor and his coward of a stepmother hiding in the back of the crowd. The rest of the guests stared at them in fear while Cassie stared at Tim in fear for him. He wanted Tim's permission to kill these people? Jason followed his gaze and chuckled.
"I think I'll reward you for being such a good brother to Tim, Dick. I'll leave this phone on until all the batteries drain away. Luckily for you, there's 96% left. Tim doesn't use it a lot." Jason tossed the phone onto the floor and it slid into the crowd. Cassie picked it up before anyone else could crush it. There was a moment of quiet before a girl about Tim's age shrieked; the murderous tension in the air was too much for her. She ran out of the crowd toward the exit. Jason let her get to the doors and pull at them because he knew they wouldn't open. The man took his sweet time watching the girl's hope die away before pulling a Beretta Px4 Storm from the inside of his jacket and putting two bullets in her. The two cracks from the gun were louder than the first, and this time Tim was there to witness the bullets tear through the girl's abdomen and shoulder. Her body crumpled to the ground before she used the last of her strength to roll over to her side and face the guests. Tim watched as the life fade from this innocent girl's eyes, her mouth opened and gasping in pain. He finally took his eyes off her and glared at Jason. He could still hear faint and muffled cursing from his phone. Dick must have heard the gunshots through the phone. There were now two dead bodies.
"Now, shall we begin?" Jason's grin widened, and Tim could see the malicious and mischievous intent twinkling in the azure blue of his eyes, like the glint of a sniper's scope.
"So tell me Tim, you want a nice or messy crime scene?" Jason asked, twirling the Px4 Storm in his left hand. Earlier, Tim saw him use his right hand to smoke, leading him to conclude Jason was ambidextrous. At least Tim knew what the gun was now.
"It's your call." Jason cupped a hand to his right ear. "Did you say clean? Alright, if you say so." He was mocking Tim. Jason rubbed his two hands together, as if the fun had only just began for him. Tim really hoped Dick called the FBI, NSA, CIA, Homeland Security, Mossad, and Interpol on a different phone (Hell, Tim would have even accepted the Russian KGB at this moment!). Dick was in a high enough position to do so after all. Should Tim speak up? Would that buy them time or would Jason just put a bullet in him, just like that girl?
"I'll make this real easy and pick out the liars. If you drank wine today, you go to the left. If ya didn't, you stay on the right. Easy. Go do it," Jason waved his hand. About half the people shuffled to the left, but Tim stayed where he was. Cassie also stayed. During the noise, Tim inched himself closer to Cassie, to see if he could talk to Dick.
"I'm scared Tim," Cassie whispered over the shuffling.
"I know Cass, just don't do anything to catch this guy's attention and don't eat or touch anything," Tim replied. "But you caught this guy's attention," Cassie whispered harshly. "Please be safe!" Tim didn't reply back, and instead took the phone in her hand.
"Dick, you still there?" Tim hoped he didn't end the call.
"Yeah, I am. Listen, I'm sorry about Damian. If I were there right now, this guy would be down already. I called everyone I know, and I think they sent helicopters, too. Sit tight, bro, and please don't do something to get yourself killed. I wouldn't be able to forgive you or me," Dick hurriedly said.
"This guy knows you and me, Dick! Who is Jay?" Tim hissed, choosing to ignore the part about Damian.
"Don't call him Jay," responded Dick in a frustrated grunt. "Well you see, now isn't really the best time for me to tell you we have an adopted half brother sort of thing who got lost in the woods and killed. Oh, yeah, and he's 20 and disappeared when you were thirteen. Uh, and we caught a guy named Jack Napier and stuffed him in jail for life, charged with first degree murder and kidnapping. He confessed that he beat Jason to death with a crowbar. The body we found had a face that was beat in really badly. The DNA matched Jason, and since you didn't really ever meet the guy, I didn't tell you he ever existed. Um, don't freak out?" Did Dick just say lost adopted half brother? What the actual fuck? So this guy was his adopted half-brother? Tim snuck a furtive glance at Jason and accidently met his eyes. Jason gave a slight smirk.
"This was a crazy thing to hide, Dick! Now he's here and I'm sure as hell he's here for me and you! He's already killed 2 people and there's one guy dying in the corner!" Tim responded. By now everyone had shuffled to their rightful corners. His stepmom was in the drink-free side with Tim. Didn't he see her drink? He had to speak with her.
The first thing she had to say to him was, "Why did you associate yourself with this maniac?" Tim was really offended, because there was no way he would willingly become buddies with Jason. Probably. He doesn't mention it to his stepmother because she would ignore it anyway.
"I don't even know this guy! I'm just wondering how he got past your tight ass security!" Tim voices.
"Language, Timothy!" Oh god, there was probably a serial murderer in this room and his stepmother was worried about his language? "My security is the best, but I think he snuck in with a fake ID." No. He probably killed a guy and took his spot. Probably one of the staff. To reassure his theory, Tim counted the number of bodies in the room. There were only 50 people after all, so security wouldn't be too suspicious of the extra person. Tim doesn't mention this, either.
"Steph? Stephanie! Oh, god no!" Cassie's voice rang out from the crowd. Shit, had one of her friends gotten hurt? There was no shooting or the cracking of bones, so . . ? Cassie rushed to Stephanie's side of the room. Jason immediately pointed his gun at her and cocked it, ready to kill without mercy. There was no time to determine whether Tim was of value or not, so he took a risk. Tim also rushed towards the other side and stood protectively over Cassandra. Jason raised an eyebrow, but still shot the bullet right at them. The crack was now oddly more familiar to Tim.
The bullet didn't hit Cass or Tim, it instead hit Stephanie who was still further behind them.
"No! Steph?" Cassandra whimpered. Tim turned Cass the other way to examine the now dead body. Stephanie had one bullet, precisely through her heart. Jason hadn't missed the mark in the first girl, he had hit her right where he wanted to. Jason was much more skilled than Tim thought, which was even worse news for them. She was also foaming at the mouth. Why? There was no reason, unless she had rabies or ingested poison.
"Poison!" Tim realized. He quickly turned to Cassie. "Tell me everything she's eaten today!" Both sides of the room heard Tim very clearly, and so did Jason.
"Well, she h-had some of the mini quiches and partridge berry mousse. I think that's all," Cass hastily responded. Tim had also eaten some of each at the beginning of the party. So if it wasn't the food, then it was-
"What did she drink?" Tim asked in a small voice, already knowing the answer. "The sherry wine! D-Do you think it was poisoned?" Cass said. Tim nodded morosely. Mr. Yates had also been foaming at the mouth. Death probably sped up the effects. Was everyone on this side of the room going to die?
One by one, people collapsed around them, until there was no one left standing but Tim and Cassie. Tim guided Cassie back to the other crowd as Jason watched. Half of the guests were dead, or dying.
"Dick, there's only 23 of us left," Tim said into the phone with a small gulp. "He cut us in half." Tim was very surprised when a man near him started shaking and collapsed too. The poison wasn't in the wine? Then there would be no other conclusion than that Jason poisoned each of them 24 hours earlier and the effects were kicking in now. Tim's eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration and nervousness. Three others fell to the ground after the man near Tim. One of them was Tim's stepmother. One of them was Helen. Cassie could only stare as Tim held her back. The poison could be contagious. He ignored the deep ache coming from under his chest.
"You feelin' nervous Tim? All I can say is that you're right and humans are natural liars. You're right most of the time, so, what does it matter?" Tim's first theory was right? Then why had these people died? Or were they not dead? "Ya know, this place served the cheapest and shittiest sherry wine on Earth, real crap material," Jason added. A guy claiming to be an ex-cop asked to borrow someone's gloves, going over to one of the cadavers and place two fingers under its ear. No pulse. So they all really did die.
Returning to Cassie and the phone, Tim spoke with a wobble in his voice, "Never mind, Dick, there's only 19."
"Calm down, alright Tim. Ah, shit, I can't sit here and wait for the Feds to surround the place. I'm driving over there right now." Dick was coming here? But it was unsafe, and this guy was probably planning to kill them all anyway. "Keep the phone with you, Tim." Tim gazed at the phone, then at Jason, then at the 26 dead bodies around him.
"Love ya, bro. Thanks," Tim murmured into the receiver.
"Tim? No, whatever you're gonna do is stupid and I don't approve. Tim, don't-" Tim shut the phone off. It was at 22 percent. Hm, what a coincidence. Everyone stared at Tim as if he just cut off their only supply of oxygen. Well, that was the partial truth. How had Dick known Tim was going to do a stupid thing? Was it the despair in his voice or was it the implied goodbye? Tim approached Jason.
"What's the point of killing 50 people?" Tim stared bravely into Jason's eyes.
"What's the point doing kind things for people who don't reciprocate?" Jason answered back. What did that have anything to do with his question? Unless . . ?
Feeling wary, Tim asked, "What are you implying?" He really didn't want Jason to shoot someone else.
"No, you understand exactly what I mean. You're a smart person Tim, but let me say it out loud for you. Your older brother who's 25 and been there for you all your life has been skirting over you for a year or so to hang with a runt that you clearly dislike, after you tell him not to. Your stepmother, who's dead now, heh, didn't give a shit about you or anything at all, really. Only in it for the money and the fame. If only your old man were still alive, am I right? Also, this girl," Jason points at Cassandra, "You called her Cass, right? Well, this girl is the one you've been moping over like a sick fool. When you finally work up the courage to ask her out, you found out she hooked up with that jerk, the jock dying on the floor, and friendzoned you hard. Although she doesn't know that. Whoops." Cassie stared at Tim, mouth opened in surprise. Tim shrugged back at her.
"You're clever and snatched your phone back from the box after I basically got everyone to hand me their phone for free. All I had to do was get a cardboard box and put my own phone in it. People are pretty stupid these days." New conclusion; Jason was pretty smart. "You also secretly hate being called Timmy by Dick." Scratch that, Jason was basically a fucking genius. Or a stalker. Could be both.
All Jason's revelations did was give Tim more information about him. Even if his fingers twitched once in awhile, Tim really didn't want his emotions stirred again by this guy, especially.
"Ah, it's been four hours. Well, the authorities must be taking their sweet time. Or did Dick really call them? You can never be too sure. Maybe he wants me to slaughter you like a baby lamb?" Tim could feel his fingernails digging into his palms and creating crescent shaped bruises.
"Was that too much? Hope you don't mind my manners, I wasn't raised with any." Tim bit his tongue to prevent himself from spitting out things he would regret in the afterlife.
Jason spoke again, his deep voice an octave higher. "Time to step up the murder a bit, don't y'think?" He pointed at two people who were still alive, both strangers to Tim, and told them to kneel down in front of him. When both of the males kneeled, Jason wiggled his fingers and grinned wickedly.
"Strangle the other guy or I'll kill you," Jason commanded to one of the males. What kind of sick game was he playing?
"No, please!" one of the men begged. Jason made a choking motion threateningly. The guy, Louis was his name, inched towards the other guy, named Jim. Instead of Louis choking Jim, they both leaped for Jason at the same time, hoping to catch him off guard. Jason seemed surprised for a nano-second, but there wasn't any actual sign of confusion. He leaped out of the way easily but dropped his Beretta. Jim scramble to get the gun while Louis went to get ahold of the automatic handguns. Louis got to the handguns first and fired without hesitation. There were no more bullets in either gun. But there was still the Px4. Finally grasping the gun in his hand, Jim fired point-blank at Jason. There were five cracks this time. Tim cheered him on in the inside, but part of him still thought it was too good to be true. Why did Tim feel a sense of remorse as Jason fell to the floor like all the other people he killed? Who ever was still alive let out sighs of relief and thanks to god. But Tim was a paranoid person. What if Jason hadn't died? There was absolutely no way, but Tim had to be sure.
Tim found himself creeping toward Jason's body while everyone else was celebrating. He pressed down on Jason's chest, but it felt stiff almost as if . . . Where was the blood and where were the exit and entrance wounds of the bullets? Jason should currently have 5 bloody holes in him. Oh shit. Tim's fingers darted to Jason's neck, and felt for a pulse. There was a healthy, normal pulse drumming under Tim's fingers. He zipped the jacket down so quick that it almost seemed like Tim was just ripping it open. Of course there had been a bulletproof vest underneath. Dammit! No one could see Tim panicking from this angle. They also couldn't see as those colbalt blue eyes opened and grabbed Tim's tie, pulling him closer. Too close. Tim could see an ocean of corpses in Jason's now opened eyes.
"If you wanted to see me strip so badly, you should have just asked," Jason teased, and then mouthed the words, 'Tough luck if you think you can kill me so easily.' Tim tensed immediately and turned to tell everyone about the danger. Jason pulled on Tim's tie again, this time harder. Both of Tim's hands were shaking with fear, or at least he thinks it's fear. 'It could be adrenaline or excitement,' a dark voice says from the back of Tim's mind. 'Oh-oh,' Jason mouthed, his lips lifting upward, almost as if he read Tim's mind, 'that's scandalous.' Tim fought the blush that threatened to turn his face scarlet and shook his head. Jason's shoulders were shaking. In pain? No, Jason was laughing! Laughing at Tim? Tim watched as Jason chuckled wildly, although no noises were coming out of his mouth. It was a silent laugh. "I hope you don't mind me pointing a gun at you again. Or a knife. I haven't made up my mind yet," Jason whispered, his warm breath mingling on Tim's cheek. Jason got up, unfazed from the gunshots.
Jason really does take out a dagger and holds it scarily close to Tim's throat. Cassandra's gasp of horror draws everyone's attention. Tim can hear the rain trickling outside. Nice weather.
"Don't anybody move or say anything, or this kid dies," Jason threatens. The ex-cop guy speaks up. Man, people really want Tim to die today.
"Look, man. I know you don't really want to kill anybody," John says. Or at least Tim thinks his name is John. He looks and sounds like a John.
"You think I really don't want to kill all of you?" Jason snorted in an amused tone.
"Yeah, I do," John says, more confidently. "In fact, I'm going to walk over there and get the boy from you. That's how sure I am." Wasn't this the thing cops did when they wanted a guy with a weapon to put down the weapon or to get a jumper to get off the ledge? Persuasion? Tim was 666% sure that it wouldn't work because he knew by now that Jason really didn't give any shits. John walked closer to Tim and Jason. He reached a hand to pull Tim away from Jason, but Jason uses the dagger in his hand to slice John's arm, clean off, almost as if Jason were saying 'Don't touch him with your filthy hands'. Blood spurted from all the opened arteries, and John cried in agony, clutching his right hand. Or his non-existent right hand. It was currently on the floor, twitching from nerves. Luckily for Tim, some of the blood splattered onto his white dress shirt, dyeing it a deep black and red. Fuck. It still felt heavy and warm.
"You still sure I don't wanna kill all of you? Go over the where that first boy was and stay there. Anybody else wanna speak up?" Tim stares at the trail of blood John makes while walking to to where Hugh was.
The fates really must want Tim to die because a loud banging on the front door came right after Jason finished his sentence.
"You're fucking kidding me," Jason whispers, mostly to himself. "Eh, the tall, broad, and scary-looking man right there, come hold a knife to this kid's throat." The man hesitated, so Jason walked up to both Jim and Louis. Jim still has the Beretta, but his hands are shaking wildly and misses his shot. Jason grabs the gun and throws it across the room. His hand shoots up to their throats at lightning speed, and he has the strength to lift the both of them up in the air. Jim makes choking and strangling noises as he dies. Louis faints first, and then dies. Tim could almost see their trachea and windpipes being crushed. There were now only 17 left in the room. The man, Tim figured out that his name was Font, comes over to Tim and holds the knife to his throat. Tim could feel the sharp edge of the blade shaking. Jason goes up to the door and peers through the crack before opening it. Wait a second, the doors weren't locked this whole time? Why didn't anybody leave when they had the fucking chance?
Jason makes welcoming gesture for two more people. A short yet familiar boy walked in, and then an even more familiar pair of striking blue eyes followed after the boy. It was Dick and Damian, both drenched with water droplets sliding down the sides of their faces. Why had Dick brought Damian to a dangerous hostage situation? Tim could see, in the short time the door was open, things flashing blue and red outside; Jason must have seen it as well, so it didn't make Tim feel any safer. Dick had spotted Tim as soon as he entered the cold room, and ran over to him. But Jason got there first, kicking Font aside and holding the dagger to Tim's throat again. Dick held out an angry fist after seeing Tim's shirt matted with blood, causing Jason to push the dagger deeper into Tim's skin. Tim lifted his head to avoid the blade pressing even deeper in. It didn't make any difference. Tim winced at the cold sting and felt a trickle of blood go down his throat. It smelled faintly like iron.
Tim could also feel Jason drag one of Tim's fingers to his neck to wipe the droplet of blood away. At least Tim thought Jason was going to wipe the blood away, but instead, he put Tim's finger to his mouth, his tongue poking out and lapping at the single bead of crimson like it was, in some way, the most normal thing that he's ever done.
"Mm," a small noise of satisfaction came from Jason's throat. Tim could feel a faint wetness on his fingertip and a blush creeping up the back his neck. Still staring into Dick's eyes, Tim could tell that Jason had made a suggestive grin after . . . licking the blood. Damian made an immature 'Ew' type of noise while Dick's fist curled into a ball.
Tim could see it all in the reflection of Dick's bitter eyes. Dick put down his fist and grit out, "What the hell do you want with Tim?"
"Maybe it's revenge because Jack's still fucking alive. Maybe I just want a companion, after you left me alone for all these years. Wait. If I really wanted a companion I would have just kidnapped Tim instead. Ha, nevermind!" Jason chuckled. The room was tense, with Dick staring down him down as Jason continued to hold Tim hostage with a blade.
"Dick, just beat him up already! What's one life worth over seventeen other ones!" Damian rushed Dick. Bringing Damian was a very poor choice of action. Apparently, Damian's patience ran out very quickly, (10 minutes) and he leaped into action himself. He charged at Jason head-on, only revealing brass knuckles with spikes at the last moment. Tim knew Jason definitely didn't expect this because Jason started moving jerkily and unplanned. Damian was going to land a solid killing hit. That is, until Tim did another stupid thing and roughly shoved Jason out of the way. Jason's dagger clanked to the floor and Tim picked it up with two hands just in time to block Damian's brass knuckles with minor difficulty. Adrenaline still pumping, Tim realized he just pushed a murderer out of harm's way and insert himself into it instead. He would have been killed by Damian if Jason hadn't dropped the dagger. Damian was actually pretty good at combat. Oh shit. Dick looked angry.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Dick practically roared with the fury of the current storm and a hint of worry. Yeah, Tim must be insane to protect his captor. He grinned in remorse. Had Tim developed stockholm syndrome? Judging by Damian's skills, he had probably actually learned more from Dick than Tim did in a lifetime. Tim began to apologize for being so stupid and useless, but he suddenly realized Dick's anger wasn't directed at him because those blue piercing eyes were glaring at Damian.
"You almost got all of us killed with that stunt! Especially Tim! How could you even think about trading his life off? You know what he means to me!" Tim almost felt sorry for the kid.
"Didn't you see, Dick? Are you blind? Tim pushed Jason out of the way!" Almost.
"Of course I know, but that doesn't cover the fact that your weapon ended up in front of his face without any intention of stopping! I don't want anyone to die anymore, dammit!" Dick retorted back with equal ferocity. Tim agreed with Dick. He didn't really want to see anyone else's throat getting ripped out by anybody else. So when Jason snuck up on Damian to snap his little neck, Tim threw two of the porcelain plates on a table nearby at Jason's face. Even if he hated Damian's guts, the kid didn't deserve to die like that. Jason toppled back from the sheer force behind Tim's throw. The glass shattered as it fell to the floor. The Beretta was too far away to grab and Dick looked about ready to beat Jason violently for sneaking up on Damian. Dick walked over to Jason and picked him up by his collar. He landed three hard hits to Jason's face before Tim pulled him off.
"Dick? Dick! You gotta stop or you'll kill him!" Tim cried, grabbing at Dick's shoulder.
"He killed 23 people! That doesn't just go away! He wanted to snap Damian's neck," Tim twitched as Dick said Damian's name in fondness, "and he threatened to kill you! When I said I didn't want anyone else to die, Jason wasn't included in the package. He deserves to die; we don't know how many people he's killed since his 'death'," Dick ranted, lightly kicking at Jason's unconscious body on the floor.
"He's had so many opportunities to kill me, but he hasn't!" Tim felt a need to protect Jason because he wasn't able to himself, "and I know that he dropped the knife on purpose when I . . . p-pushed him out of the way." Tim felt his voice trailed off at the end. Dick's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're defending this psycho right now, Tim," Dick hit the nail right on the head, and Dick seemed like he knew it, too.
"Unbelievable, this guy has stockhome syndrome!" Damian chirped. 'Unbelievable, this little piece of shit can't even say stockholm right or learn when to shut the fuck up,' Tim mocked Damian in his mind. He really couldn't take much of this anymore. He was ready to throw his hands up in anger and 'what the fuck please shut the fuck up' and absolute frustration. Maybe he should have just let Jason kill him or Damian so he could stop listening to this crap.
"Yeah, Timmy! I thought I told you to distance yourself from the captor as much as possible if you get kidnapped or forced to be a hostage," Dick added. Yeah, yeah. Avoid ever saying your captor's name, don't speak to them unless you have to, blah blah. This was a special situation, and Dick should know that. Jason knew both of them already, and besides, Tim didn't have stockholm syndrome. And why was Dick taking Damian's side?
Dick sighed and then took out his phone. "I'm gonna call in the Fed guys; they're right around the corner. Sit tight guys," Dick reassured everyone who was still alive. Jason shifted from his spot on the ground. His left eye was starting to bruise purple, and so did his jaw. He groaned quietly in pain.
"How 'bout I leave you with one last gift, Timmy. Before this thing blows over," Jason rasps quietly.
"Shut up," Dick gritted his teeth, and then turned to Tim and said, "Don't say anything!" He began to dial whatever authority that he hired. There was a churning sense of 'Why Dick? I trusted you all my life. Why are you treating me so harshly? Why are you treating Damian so kindly? Ijustwantedyoutoacknowledgeme' in Tim's gut. It felt true, and the truth felt a bit good.
"Don't bother," Jason groaned. "I got a bomb hidden in this building. Ya know I didn't kill any innocent people. At least not yet. All the dead bodies in this room have done a nice crime and got away with it. I just changed to invitation list to their names, and then they brought along innocent people." . . . Nobody that was invited was crime-free? But Cassie was invited and she didn't do anything wrong, unless Tim didn't know about it. Dick slowly lowered his phone and then shut it. He didn't want to risk the death of everyone still alive and frightened.
Jason moaned in pain again, pushing himself off the floor to sit up. "Ya really did a number on me, Dick. Nice job," he laughed softly, clutching at his face. Tim couldn't see the open wound on Jason's jaw, threatening to kill him from loss of blood. Tim moved toward a cupboard he searched earlier while looking for his phone. "Whatcha' doin' babybird?" Jason asked with mild interest. Dick made a cutting motion on his throat, as if saying 'Stop what you're doing right fucking now or I'll kill you'. Tim ignored both of them and reached into the cupboard. In the silence, the squeak of the cupboard opening was ripping through the tension. Tim grabbed a few of whatever was inside. He walked towards Jason's spot on the floor.
"Tim, what the fuck-stop it, Tim! He's dangerous!" Dick begged, unmoving. 'Then stop me, Dick,' Tim thought. When he got to Jason, Neither Dick nor Damian showed any signs of stopping him. 'I thought so,' Tim grumbled. It wasn't worth stopping, just in case doing so would make Jason activate the bomb. What if it was a bluff? But it didn't seem like a bluff. When he got to Jason, Dick bit his lip in anxiousness, almost hard enough to draw blood, and Jason gazed with curiosity. Tim revealed the things in both hands to Jason. In his left hand was handful of medium sized butterfly bandages and in the other hand was Tim's handkerchief from his late-mother. Tim gently dabbed away the blood on Jason's cut, staining the handkerchief with blood, and then folded the bandages over the cut. Tim could feel anger driven glares on his back. Whoever was still alive was pissed that Tim was treating their captor. 'Well, Jason is a murderer, and he may be psychotic,' Tim drawled in his head, 'but he was also family that got lost on the road to life with no one to guide him.' After Tim applied the last bandage, he backed off.
"Tim. I'm gonna give you that gift now, 'kay?" Jason pushed himself off the ground and stood up. Dick tensed up and Tim shook his head. "Jay," Tim began, "you don't need to. You should just . . . leave. Before things get worse." Tim felt defiant and remembered Dick telling him not to say another word.
Jason shook his head in disagreement. "I've been waiting too long for today. I gotta go through with all of it. Whether it's pretty or not." A grin tugged at Jason's lips. "Besides," he wiggled his eyebrows, "Don't you wanna see what my gift to you is?"
"Not really," Tim hesitated. Kind of. It's human nature to be curious of everything.
"Well too bad. You don't have a choice. Actually, yes you do! So, do you pick what's under Box 1, or Box 2?" Jason pulled two boxes gift wrapped in neon red wrapping paper. How did Jason know neon red was his favorite color? Jason didn't see as Tim gestured to Dick behind his back to get all the guests evacuated immediately. Even if he was despising Dick quite a bit, there were still innocent people in the building. Cassie walked up to Tim's side and gave him a peck on the cheek. One by one, everyone that was still alive snuck out, Damian the first one out.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear. Tim gave her a thumbs up and turned back to Jason.
" . . . Box . . . . 1," Tim finally decided.
"Under Box 1 is two items. The first is," Jason announced in a TV show host manner. Cassie was the last guest to leave, right behind Dick. "a remote control to the doors of this building!" The doors in the front swung shut, and Cassie was unable to get out before they closed.
Dick spun around as soon as the doors closed and banged hard on the glass. Tim could see through the glass that Dick signaled some Feds to break down the door with a battering ram. It was unsuccessful. Damn this expensive buildings and its strong materials. The last Tim saw of Dick was his back disappearing from the view through window.
The only ones left in the room was Jason, Tim, Cassie, and a bunch of dead bodies. They were starting to smell. The sour stench started beckoning flies and it took Tim everything to not throw up all the things he'd eaten earlier. It was unsettling to stay in the room with those cold, lifeless, and unmoving corpses, limbs bent at impossible angles. Luckily for Hugh, he didn't have anything too bad; only a bent unusable arm. The ex-cop whose hand was chopped off had bled out in the corner. Dead. His hand was still on the floor nearby. He glanced at it; it was still twitching slightly. Tim didn't look at it again.
"Cassie, is it?" Jason looked up. "Lemme be honest with you. I think you're a whore and a sonova bitch, so stay away from Tim. Different guy every different day. How old are you again? 16?" What? Cassie's face twisted with anger and guilt.
"Who are you to be telling me to stay away from Tim? You're a murderer and an insane psychotic bitch. Much worse than what I do!" Cassie saw the look Tim gave her, and she looked away, to the ground. 'You're fucking kidding me,' Tim thought, palms clammy and clenched. The crescent marks from earlier were still there.
"I only kill the guilty, which is much different from you. You killed a guy whose name was Shatner and buried him in your yard somewhere. Ya can't deny something this precious," Jason quipped. Tim's eyes widened. "Your honesty is commendable," he added as an afterthought, full of sarcasm. Cassie's demeanor was so much different than how she acted around other people. Her mouth was currently curled with disgust and distaste, and her eyes dull and bored.
But it was still Cassie, so Tim shouted, "Duck Cass" when he saw Jason reach for something in his pockets. A throwing knife whizzed above Cassie's head right after she ducked, at the exact spot where her carotid artery would have been. Jason threw two more, but with Tim's guided instructions, Cassandra remained unharmed. Even when a flash bomb emerged from Jason's pockets, Tim ran up to Cassie to cover her eyes.
Tim had really thought that Jason had used up all the weapons he had, but oh boy, was he wrong. Tim didn't understand how the fuck Jason could fit two red dragon-patterned katanas in his fucking jacket, but when Jason whipped them out, Tim knew the impossible was possible. There was no way Tim could protect Cassie from those, let alone protect himself. "Run upstairs Cassie," Tim warned. She didn't listen to him this time, only staring at Jason. All he could do was stand protectively in front of her.
"Why're you even protecting her? Her true nature's pretty ugly," Jason sighed.
"Human nature isn't always pretty," Tim responded, wrapping his arms around Cassie. Jason swung the katana, his target to kill. Instead of the pitch black and silence and emptiness and pain, Tim heard a clang, metal on metal. He turned around, seeing blue and his brain thinking 'Blue? Blue sword! Blue katana? Dick?'
Dick held his own katana (Blue and pretty and sleek; where'd he get it?) even and horizontal like the horizon, leveled with his nose; he parried Jason's swing.
"I hope this isn't the part where you die saving us all?" Tim spoke to Dick, voice full of grim joy. Jason welcomed the challenge with a 'bring it on' gesture after backing off a second.
"Don't worry 'lil bro, this is the part where I go all out guns-a-blazing and win!" Dick responded, panting as he struggled to keep up with Jason. Jason was relentless, swinging before each block ended, and he had two katanas. Unfair, really. Dick smiled sternly and-oh no, Dick really does want Tim and Cassie to escape while he's slashed apart!
"Fire escape," he says, wincing as Jason swings upwards and grazes Dick's abdomen.
"Go, Tim!" Dick urged. So there was a fire escape. That must be how Dick got here; with his acrobatic talents, it was probably no trouble swinging up the fire escape. Tim couldn't say the same thing for himself. He didn't know any acrobatics, and he had a second party with him. He sprinted upstairs, grabbing Cassie's wrist roughly because she wouldn't budge.
Tim could hear parts of Dick and Jason's conversation.
"-the piece of shit's still alive! No execu-"
"-can't execute with no reas-"
"-bullshit and you know it!"
"-come home, we'll forgive y-"
"-too late for me, take care of T-"
"-please Ja-"
"Shut up and fight," Jason growled, louder than any other statement. Tim couldn't hear them say anything else.
The fire escaped was already opened, but they were too high to jump down.
"Hello? Anybody? Help, over here at the fire escape!" Tim shouted into the wind. The alley was empty, until a head poked out and then turned around to inform several other agents. They brought a blanket and several mattresses to cushion their fall. They finished positioning themselves, but Cassandra still refused to move. Hoping she forgave him, Tim gave her a harsh shove out the window. She shrieked when she hit the mattress. The agent gave an 'Okay' for Tim to jump. He did not comply. Turning around and going back for Dick, Tim could hear them shouting for him to come back.
"Guys stopstopstop!" Tim yelled in a rush as he sprinted back into the room Jason and Dick were in. Both of them were bruised and bloody and battered, but still standing with swords clashing. They both glanced at Tim.
"And the second item," Jason panted, "is the remote to the bomb. Hah." Dick's eye widened in alarm and started running to the fire escape immediately, Tim close behind. Dick leaped out of the window and a mattress below caught him. Tim was about to jump, but a hand grabbed him back.
"Take care of yourself, kid," Jason yelled so Tim could hear him over the shouting below.
"Jump, Tim! What the hell are you waiting for? Jump dammit," was the loudest shout of all, coming from Dick. Tim could feel Jason pressing two things into his suit pocket and then push him out the fire escape. Tim got the wind knocked out of him as he hit the mattress. Dick pulled him off as Tim attempted to catch his breathe. They all walked out of the alley and to the front of the building. Tim's jaw dropped when he saw the truck full of TNT; they wanted to blow open the doors in order to collect the dead bodies for their loved ones and a proper burial. When no one was looking, Tim reached into his pocket and felt the first object. It was a button. To the bomb. Still inside the building. The temptation and curiosity was too great, and Tim pressed the button.
A blinding flash of white broke out, and then flames followed, stretching into the sky. It sounded as if a meteor had crash landed onto the building. Concrete flew everywhere, and Tim could only hear the ringing of his own blood pumping into his ears. As the ringing subsided, Tim finally looked up at the disaster. There was a pillar of fiery smoke and dust, and the whole building was engulfed in flames. All the windows shattered and the thousands of glass shards rained down from the sky. The doors were the first to burn down. Through the thick gray smoke, Tim could see the silhouette of someone in the building. Jason was still in the building!
"Tim," a voice was carried by the wind. It sounded familiar-almost like Jason. Maybe it was Jason's voice coming inside the burning building. If Tim could just get close enough to confirm . . . He walked a little closer to the burning building as firefighters frantically tried to put it out.
"Tim? Tim!" Dick coughed, trying to find him through the thick smog. He saw a figure head back into the burning building and chased after it.
"What door is this key to?" Tim shouted into the smoke after realizing the second item was a key. He almost stumbled over a burning body. He did a double take when he saw that it was his step-mother's body, and then quickly looked away. Burning corpses smelled even worse than rotting ones. Tim raised a sleeve to his nose to block out the smell.
"You're smart, kid. My cat doesn't like robins. 268 West Bridle Dive," Jason's voice came from upstairs.
"Tim what the fuck are you doing? Get outta here!" Dick's worried voice came from the other direction.
"Seeya soon, detective," Jason speaks, and then it's as if his presence disappears. The world was spinning and why were there two sets of stairs? Tim hugged the floor with his face. 'Wow, the floor is pretty cool and white,' Tim thought. 'Or is it cold and blue?' Black speckles appeared in his vision. Tim could feel strong familiar arms pick him up. The person coughed and Tim could feel them moving. 'Who-' was Tim's last thought before he fell unconscious.
Dick swiped at the smoke and stayed as close to the ground as possible. Tim better still be alive or else Dick would bring him back from the dead to kill him again. Dick accidentally inhaled a large amount of the smoke, breaking into a violent coughing fit. It was no good if Dick didn't find Tim; he would faint and the flames would eat him up. The world tilted on its side and Dick struggled to stand up as he moved forward.
He stumbled over the charred floor; the smoke was too thick, the flames too hot and licking at his face. Dick needed to-he needed to . . . lean on . . something. A hand grabbed him and he was put on full alert again.
"Go get him outta here!" was heard over the roaring flames. The building started collapsing.
It was Jason, and he had Tim unconscious over his shoulder! Jason transferred Tim over to him, saluting to Dick before he disappeared back into the fire.
Icy water dripped down Tim's back. It stung but brought a feeling of pleasure and relief down his spine. He was . . . lying in a bed. Not his bed. With someone leaning over him-two people leaning over him.
"It was so~ cool when you rushed in to save that girl and basically sacrificed yourself to save her and Tim!" a squeaky voice grated Tim's ears. The person next to the voice sighed. Tim shifted to a more comfortable position.
"Tim? You awake, bro?" Dick? Tim's eyes fluttered opened. The white of the ceiling and the smell of antiseptic told Tim that he was in a hospital or some sort. Tim blinked once.
"The building?" Tim inquired drowsily. Dick shook his head.
"Gone."
"Jas-"
"Gone." Tim blinked twice and sat up immediately.
"Gone as in 'dead' gone?" Tim's voice rose an octave.
"We found an unidentifiable body, which I thought was strange, because we had Jason's DNA in the system. The again, we thought the first body was his, but it really wasn't. We never acquired his DNA in the first place," Dick explained. Tim had Jason's blood. Tim had his blood. He had Jason's blood.
Tim's fingers twitched. He doesn't say anything about it. "When can I leave?" Tim pushed.
"Why? You're still injured and there's no rush . ." Dick responded in slight suspicion. Tim really didn't want to lie. But he did.
"My stepmother just died. I knew some people in there who died!" Tim forced his voice to crack, as if he were about to burst into tears.
"Whenever you want. You just have to sign out," Dick finally caved in, eyes staring at the ground. Tim pulled the covers off and leaped out of the hospital bed, grabbing his shoes on the way out. Tim could hear Dick face-palming and Damian laughing at him. They were having fun. If Dick were the one who carried him out of the building, he didn't speak up. It was either Dick or Jay.
Tim called a quick cab. He got in, and also bought a newspaper from the cabbie. On the front cover was the fire and the building, as well as an interview with Dick Grayson. It said that the bomb went off at Saturday, 11:58 PM. The fire started at 12:00 AM Sunday morning. They called it the Sunday Fire, which occurred 'after 23 people were killed by a psychopath' and to make the public feel safer, 'murderer found dead in fire; unable to escape'.
Tim told the cabbie to stop at the address Jason gave him. He handed the cabbie a Benjamen and told him to keep the change. When he got out of the cab, it was 9 in the morning. Sunday, the sun well above the sky. The address was to some cargo boxes in an abandoned wharf. 'Trespassers will be shot' the sign printed in large red letters. Tim didn't care. There were 5 different cargo boxes with the address number. Tim chose the brightest, reddest one. He walked around the cargo hold, looking for an opening. He didn't have to break down the door, it was already open. He stepped foot inside, hoping Jason didn't give him an address to a trap.
There were recently opened canned and perishable foods. The bed had been slept on the two nights ago; there were candles and self made lights.
"Mreow," a cat crawled from under the bed and purred against Tim's legs. The name tag had the name 'Illya' on it. Tim flopped onto the bed, inhaling the smell of the sheets and little cargo hold. He clutched the bed sheets. This small space felt like home. Tim's phone went off, he was too far gone in his sleep. A creamy yellow manilla folder with familiar handwriting lay at the end of the bed.
Beautiful pic dunt belong to me credit to you beautiful artist 3 Where have I heard Illya before? lulol Sorry can't help it- shet just realized why the bully's name sounded so familiar . . . I luv wolverine?