I do not own Batman or any other DC characters.
Like a Disease, Death Spreads and Corrupts All Birds
"All this hate you gave me that turned me deranged
Now I'm burning in the flames
All the things you said, they've been stuck in my head
And now I'm at it again, an addict
Welcome to hell bitch
You can't do nothing about it
"Out of my way faggot, you heard what I said damnit
I am an automatic ready to fire back at
All the fuckers laughing
Not gonna lie about it, I'm gonna wreck havoc
Everyone's dying
Don't matter"
–Nobody Likes Me by Deuce
Tim Drake gasped out blood; it was pooling from bounteous injuries he acquired from the attack of the Legend of Shadows. He placed a twitching hand to his throat where it started to dribble from and his vision swayed to see more drop from his grasp along with the large gaping hole in chest from a shotgun to his left lung. He shook to take another step towards Ra's al Ghul, who smirked at the teen's efforts to run, and Tim's large blue eyes held misery that he knew he would probably die and fury to the Demon's Head who inflicted the wounds on him.
"So, Timothy," The Demon's Head said and Tim gasped again, more red blotting his vision, "Do see now that you never stood a chance against the League of Shadows?" Tim's shaking hand reached to pull out a weapon but all his weapons had been taken from attacking Ra's al Ghul.
He wanted to speak so badly but with his throat slashed, every word he tried to say became a gurgle.
He wanted Dick to be there.
But he was off in New York.
He wanted Bruce to be there.
But he was off in Gotham with Damien.
God, he wanted Jason to be there.
But he was off god knows were.
He was going to die today.
And he died would die all alone surrounding by his killers.
Tim stopped reaching out before he fell to his knees, more pain raking his body and he managed to look up at the ceiling. He saw a white light reaching out to him and went to go reach for it, wanting to end to intolerable agony in his body.
That shattered when more torment scraped his gaping crimson body by Ra's al Ghul sword that shoved right between his eyes, the moment collapsing into nothing but red-just like his name: Red Robin.
The League of Shadows dropped off Tim's body the next day; with all his wounds still bleeding out and his face still full of shock and pain.
Alfred was the first one to see his surrogate grandson dead, nearly giving the old man a heart attack and wildly called all the Bat family to come see the dead teen.
Dick was the second and one sight of Tim's face, he flashed back to Jason's dead body and started to cry and wouldn't stop for anytime.
Damien was the third and he held no emotion towards the deceased boy but everyone knew he did care some for the teen but wouldn't show it.
Bruce was the fourth to see the dead teen and he collapsed to his knees, a pained expression inflicted across his face and his mouth gaped open yet no words spilled.
Jason…they couldn't find the former Robin, so he never knew of the teen's death. Or he did and just didn't want to experience how it must have felt going to a funeral or wake. He already the pain of death and didn't want to get reminded of his own.
No one knew who had killed the teen and they couldn't even guess why he had been killed anyway.
Jason Todd, the second Robin now Red Hood, sat down next to the newly created grave; everything had buried just a few days ago and he missed it. He didn't want to go see his replacement be buried under a pile of soil where the worms and roaches crawl and evade the wood casket-he already been through that. He didn't want to see the bruised and bloody body of his replacement-he had once been like that but more burns were on his body instead of the holes. He didn't want to see him get lowered into the ground-he had to dig himself out and remember the yards of soils he crawled to reach the top to breath fresh air.
Jason shook his head to clear away the thoughts and the end of cigarette was starting to fall off, landing on the neatly patted soil. He glanced down at it before reaching to pull it away then stopped to think about it. If someone saw it, it meant that he had visited his replacement and shown his respects. He looked up to the sky before whispering, "I hope you didn't have to suffer too much, replacement. I know how much pain death is…and hopefully you didn't have to be alone when you died."
He gave a small smile before pulling out his silver lighter and stared at it then placed it down in front of the grave along with his cigarettes.
"Tell the big man up there thanks for letting me be brought back." he lied then walked away without another before he would cry, which was unlike him but he wished it could have been him instead.
The lack of oxygen was killing him. The blood was still in his lungs but he managed to cough most of it back up. His brain was in over drive and he was starting to panic from the fact that it was so hot; there was barely any oxygen, and his nails scrapping across the fabric that cushioned him, bleeding from the . He wanted to scream but his throat was still injured, his voice box must be damaged so he groaned instead. He shoved the cushion to open but something was keeping it on tight hold, crushing it from opening but he wanted-needed -to get out, it was causing him to panic and panicking isn't good.
One final shove had him get the top open but it was drowned out with soil, roaches, and worms invade the coffin. He instantly shut his mouth and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the dirt crawling with insects and began to shove as much into the coffin as he could.
What the fuck happened?! Why was I in a coffin?! Did I DIE?! He thought and started clawing through, his fingernails bleeding now from trying to break into air. He struggled and shoved, reaching to freedom. He felt the soil become lighter and finally manage to feel nothing but cool air against his hand. He couldn't help but grin and finally managed to push aside enough soil to get his first full breath of air in what seemed like forever.
His dull blue eyes looked around to see gravestones filled with names of the long and forgotten: Martha Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, and Jason Todd.
Janet and Jake Drake…they seem familiar…he thought but Jason Todd, that name brought up more recent forgotten memories.
"Come on, replacement! Keep up with the pace!"
He winced at the angry tone of his memory before pulling himself up, groaning at the pain raking his body. He looked behind him and saw his own gravestone, greeting him along with a downpour of rain. His noir hair clung to his hair and stared at the bold print of what he assumed was his own name: TIM DRAKE, BELOVED SON, STUDENT, AND SOLDIER.
Soldier? Was I in a war or something? he thought but decided to ignore it and took a deep breath, rubbing his neck from the large scaring he must have received from an attack or it may have been how he was killed.
Killed? Why did he think that?
"If you kill me, I'll crawl right out of the grave my family built for me and ripe your organs out and kill you. Once I'm dead, I no longer have any morality so I need not worry about Batman's rules. Ra's al Ghul, I will make sure that there will be nothing left you after I'm through with you!"
Was that his own voice?
Who is Batman?
Who is Ra's al Ghul, the man he swore to kill?
WHO WAS HE?!
He blinked when he saw a package of cigarettes and a lighter that looked awfully familiar-"That's my lighter, dumbass! I'm not going to quit smoking anytime soon! Once you think you can handle a smoke, then come back to take my lighter, kid." -so he grabbed the package and lighter, stuffing it in his crinkled pants pockets. He looked back down to the grave before slowly walking away from it, ignoring the bad feeling that he should have covered up his tracks but he was more focused on seeking revenge on the man called Ra's al Ghul.
Dick Grayson's eyes grew large at the sight of the grave, the white lilies in his hand falling to the ground and he rushed to the broken soil. His mind going out of control, trying to figure everything out and started shoving dirt away, some insects touching his skin but he ignored it.
"Impossible!" he muttered before stopping after a foot to breath and pulled away, looking at the gravestone where small amounts of blood remained there. He gulped before licking his lips and pulled out his cell phone, his hand trembling as he dialed Barbara Gordon's number. Ringing surrounded his ear and she answered, "Hello?"
"Babs have everyone gather down to the grave yard." He said, running his fingers through his black locks.
"What? Why?" she asked while typing away to send the message.
"Tim's grave has been dug up. I don't know if someone did it or…" he explained and licked his lips, "He pulled a Jason."
Tim grabbed the drug dealer's arm, forcing it behind his back and watched as the man cried in pain. Tim's face broke into a smile before managing to grab the dealer's gun and pointed it to the guy's head, his finger on the trigger-"Bats don't kill!" "…Well, I'm no Bat, dumbass."-and got ready to pull it.
"Don't kill me, please!" he cried and-"I'll find you and end you, Ra! No matter if I'm dead or alive, I will get you for this!"-Tim winced at the voices yelling at him. He placed a hand to his head before grinding his teeth together and his vision started to blur, multiple voices covering the real world.
"Get back here, you little shit!"
"You don't belong here."
"You took my place!"
"You're weak."
"You don't deserve to be Robin."
"SHUT UP!" he howled before he looked back down to limping man running away and his eyes widen, pointing the gun to him and fired at the man. The gun shot echoed the place and he watched as the bullet hit the guy's head, blood burst forward and splattered the ground in crimson. He blinked at this-"Are you sure you are a Bat? I'm mean come on but the guy didn't deserve to have his neck broken, Tim!"-looking around to see if anyone had seen him before he looked down to the gun, his hands grasping it tightly and stuffed it between his pants and boxers.
Ra's al Ghul…if I find him and kill him then most likely the voices will end, Tim thought and smirked, Now I just need to find someone who has connections to Ra.
"Holy crap." Dick stated at the sight of the empty coffin with starch marks and blood staining the inside while Bruce Wayne's eyes were widen at the fact that Tim had done the exact same thing as Jason-being forced to dig out of his own grave. Damian Wayne stared at the empty grave then turned to Jason who had his eyes wide but tried to mask any feeling of fear or sorrow.
"…how could he have been brought back to life?" Dick whispered and all of them turned to Jason, their eyes glued to his.
Oh so many disappointed eyes-the worms and maggots crawled through, slithering around him, nibbling on his flesh as if he was a dessert- and they wanted to have answers to how the boy had been brought back-"Now, that was rude! The first Boy Blunder had some manners. I suppose I'm going to have to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps. Nah. I'm just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar. HAHAHAHA!"-he should know; he had died.
Jason brought a hand to his head-someone had to come save him; he was Robin, the Boy Wonder, and Robin doesn't die-and his body started to shake uncontrollably. He needed to lie down; needed a cigarette-he needed Batman to save him-but he gave those to Tim-"You know that's a terrible habit. It causes more than 480, 000 deaths annually." "Yeah, yeah, I'll stop smoking when you die.".
Oh God, he killed Tim.
Tears were leaking down his face and he had fallen to his knees in sobs raking him body-"What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand?"- Bruce and the others huddled around him, trying to get him to explain what was wrong. Their faces made everything worse-"Don't act like you earned the title of Robin, kid. I earned it through all my training while you just got because Bruce handed it down to you on a silver platter."-and Dick went to grab his brother but Jason-"You are nothing but a street rat, Todd. I don't even understand how long you made as Robin before you died."-shoved the hand away, a snarl wanting to rip out of his mouth it was more of a whine.
"Stay away." He whimpered and-"That's it Jason. You are benched for the next month! You can't recklessly charge in!"-Bruce frowned at this, concern written on his face.
"Jason what's-the matter with you?! You could have killed the guy, Jason!-wrong?" Bruce asked and Jason shook his head wildly.
"NO! NO!" he screamed and-the sound of the timer for his life to end rang in his ears-bile rose up his throat, "I never meant to take your place! I never meant to recklessly die! I never meant to kill! I just want to die again! I just don't want to hurt anyone anymore!"
His family was held agape and terror shocked Bruce, thinking about how Jason died-his lifeless body limp in his arms; blood coating his suit and tears running through his cowl onto the young boy's body;-and wanting to comfort him.
"Jason…why would you want to die again?" Bruce whispered and Jason shivered, looking away-he was always trying to hide the fact that he was broken-and pressed his lips together.
"The memories, Bruce," he whispers and the tears finally stop, "God, they always creep up on me…Shattering reality around, the voices…" He looks around with gaze somewhat blurred before looking down to the empty coffin.
"The voices could drive any man insane. Why do I think I went insane? Insanity has no cure! It comes once you reach a breaking point; mine was dying." Jason said and licked his chapped lips, staring up at the sky, "The big man declined me. Sent me back to this hell, making me crawling right back up where I had been dug in."
Everyone shivered at his words-the lack of oxygen would kill him if he didn't get out-and then Jason stood, his back facing them.
"I'm going to find him." He said then ran off without another word, hoping they wouldn't see he was still crying.
Tim Drake was dead; he knew it since he read to the papers about the death being horrific of being slashed across the throat-he still has the scar-his lung suffering major blows from being shot with a shotgun-he could see where the bullet marked its way through-but the major cause of his death was a sword shattering his skull and piercing his brain-he has to hide that wound with make-up.
He placed the newspaper back down and glanced around the small supermarket where he grasp the orange hair dye-"My hair had been orange before I started dying it back when I was kid now that the dye is gone, my hair is more of a dirty brown than orange. I wish I still had the color."-since he remembered someone wanting to go back to being a red head so he might as well follow the voice since it knew more about his life when he was alive. Tim walked up to the cash register and stared at the cashier who ignored his presence by playing on his phone.
"Excuse me." Tim said and he placed the items on the counter, "Can you ring this up for me?" The guy looked up from him his phone before scowling at the teen and Tim could see the anger in the guy's eyes-"I'm more powerful than you are, dumbass. Don't look down on me!"-that had his empty hand twitch to grab the gun and shot the guy in the face. Tim glanced around the alleys and turned back to the guy who-he really, really wanted to shot in the face-continued on in the slowest pace he had ever seen. He bit his lip before handing the guy the money and dashed out with his bag in hand, hoping he paid the right amount-or he would shot him between the eyes and a grin across his face-and forced his legs to run as fast as he could. He squeezed his eyes shot and placed his hands to his head, trying to ignore the blasted voices.
A force that send him flying has his eyes snap open and watched everything slowed down, his body flying from the impact of a large Toyota Truck and the item he purchased slip from his hands. He didn't know how-Of course you do, idiot! You've been hit by a car before!-but flipped around like an acrobat and manage to catch the hair dye before it hit the ground along with pulling out the gun, landing perfectly on his feet. He grinned wildly-maybe insanity was more pleasing than he could remember- and fired directly at the car, screams echoing throughout the streets.
"What the hell?" someone screamed as the bullet zoomed through the windshield, hitting the driver directly in the head and blood sprayed across the windshield while the car swerved from no one no longer in control of the vehicle. Tim then bolted and watched as the car headed towards innocents-Well, some could be evil-with his gun in hand, everyone running from him.
He had to keep running; he didn't know why-to make sure no one saw his face-and turned another corner into a dark alley, hoping the shadows would hide him from anyone who would recognize him.
Jason watched the streets of Gotham lit up and the corruption burns bright, shining the brilliant city into the depths of darkness. He reached into his pocket to grab a cigarette yet-the smoke passed by his lips and the toxin invaded his lungs, the oh so sweet taste licking his taste buds-he gave those up the week after Tim had died. He scowled and pulled out his gun, clicking to see if it was fully loaded.
"Red Hood."
He shot around with his gun in hand and ready to fire, his finger itching to pull the trigger but stopped when he saw Nightwing frowning at his brother. Red Hood sighed and placed the gun back in its holster, glancing back at the streets.
"What is it, Nightwing?" he asked and Dick walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to do this alone." He said and Jason's eyes narrowed under his helmet then swatted Dick's hand away.
"You don't know what the fuck is even going on, Dick!" he hissed at his older brother, "You, Bruce, and Damian don't understand what goes on in my head! As soon as I woke up in my coffin, everything was gone but one single thought. That thought was 'Where's Bruce?'! I couldn't even remember my own name! I just wanted to know where Bruce was! I didn't even know who Bruce was but I just wanted to know where he was! I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE I WAS IN A FRIGGIN' COFFIN UNTIL I WAS MEET WITH A FACE FULL OF DIRT!"
Dick paled at each word Jason spat and tears began to trail down his face under his helmet.
"…We didn't know that Jay; why didn't you ever tell us?" Dick whispered and Jason pulled off his helmet, wiping away the tears quickly.
"I tried to forget it, Dick. It's to painful, to tiring, to angry, to lonely." He replied and-the mouthful of dirt where some bugs had managed to make in, their angry buzzes in his ears and he tried to spit it out but would only be replaced with another mouth full-shuddered at the thought of coffins, rubbing his hands against his pants.
"Let's just try to find Tim. He probably still doesn't know much of about himself and caused some sort of trouble somewhere." Jason said and Nightwing nodded, watching as Jason stared at the red helmet before placing it back on, "Come on, I've heard there's been some weird shot out in the middle of Gotham." Dick followed his younger brother and watched as he swung building to building with a terrified look under his helmet, hoping it wasn't what he thought happened.
He stared at himself in the mirror and observed his new hair color-the dye dripped across the floor, staining the ground and the last remaining thing of Tim Drake was erased from existence-he played with the tips, noticing that some orange tinted his fingertips. His once soft blue eyes were replaced with cold dark navy orbs that defied the bright orange locks that he decided to pull back from the length, leaving a few longer pieces out and to play with. After a few days, he managed to get more strength back and his jaw looked more defied as if he was in his twenties and not in his late teens. He stood as tall as he could, that being five foot ten, somehow managing to grow over five inches in the last week since he dug out of the coffin.
Now that Tim Drake was dead, he needed a new name.
Names are meaningful, becoming the instrument to tell fear and are for the people to know of, he thought and watched as a small migraine tapped against his skull. He scowled and images-blood pooled over his combat boots and his eyes widen, seeing the red stain his shaking hands and that's when he started to scream-blasted through his vision. He dropped to his knees and swore loudly, closing his eyes tightly and-he scrambled to collect the guts and brain matter of him while he attempted to erase the image of the body becoming nothing but a splatter of red, guts, and remains-fell to his knees. His breath became uneven and hitched, his eyes wide in confusion and pain before struggling to get back up.
"Don't try to run away, little piece of shit! You were trained to do this and now you're just becoming trash! Don't tell us that you want to be a fucking detective! You are to be a &^%$ # you piece of shit! Follow what you were born to be!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he screamed and looked around to find the person to shot-he didn't want to; he never wanted to be a &^%$ #! It was never his dream! He wanted to be his own person! He didn't want to be a replacement! He wasn't Jason; he wasn't Dick; he wasn't Bruce; he wasn't Damian! He wasn't Robin or Red Hood or Nightwing or Batman! He was to be his own person!-his entire being shaking at the fact that no one could take away the pain.
"I AM NOT A REPLACEMENT!" he yelled up to Heaven and Hell and-the rain drenched his body, soaking his entire being and the tears were able to flow freely so it mixed in the rain-he took a deep breath, relief flooding his system and he glanced down to his hands. They were calloused and bloody from both the dye and trying to clean up his mess from killing.
"No," he whispered to himself and stared at the silver pistol, his reflection glaring back at him, "I am no replacement." He raised the gun up to the mirror with his finger on the trigger and smirked at it, before pulling it and glass shattered and specks hit the floor in a crunch.
"I am Jason Todd. I am Jack Drake. I am Janet Drake. I am John Grayson. I am Mary Grayson. I am Thomas Wayne. I am Martha Wayne." He said with a small giggle after it, a smile greeting the broken reflection, "I will be every replacement there is."
"Did you hear that some guy is calling himself the Substitute? They say he uses anyone's name after they die." One thug whispered to another and Red Hood observed them from above with Nightwing glowering down at them, waiting for Jason to give the move.
"I heard he's using the name Jason Todd."
With no notice, Red Hood jumped down off the roof and tackled the two thugs down to the ground while slamming their heads into the pavement. A gasp escaped the two of them and Jason brought them back up, snarling at them.
"Who the fuck is using that name?!" he snarled at them and gripped their throats tight enough that they started chocking on the lack of oxygen.
"Red Hood, calm down! They won't be able to answer your question if they end up dead." Nightwing stated while jumping down next to his younger brother. Red Hood glared at him from behind his helmet before releasing his grip on the two thugs, now putting his two guns to their necks.
"Now you better tell me who the fuck is using the name Jason Todd before I put a bullet straight through your neck." Jason hissed and Nightwing sighed at his brother's actions while the thugs nodded quickly.
"He calls himself the Substitute; orange hair and blue eyes carries a Semi-Automatic pistol and doesn't care who lives or dies!" one cried and the other nodded along with that one.
"He's been trying to find this guy called Ra's al Ghul! He says he's going to kill him!" the other one exclaimed and Jason's finger itched to pull the trigger.
His little brother wouldn't kill.
He was to soft and innocent to kill.
But death always changed the way someone looks at a simple life.
"Have you two seen him?" Jason hissed and they slowly shock their head no, before blood exploded out from between their eyebrows. The two brothers' eyes widen under their masks and turned to face two guns pointed to their faces, emotionless-once proud and prideful clear blue eyes smiled at the two brothers-navy orbs greeted them.
"Good evening, Red Hood, Nightwing."
He stepped out of the shadows-"I don't want to be like Batman but knowing our family history, I probably will."-and bright orange hair shined in the pale moonlight. His hair was pulled back-"You have long enough hair to have a ponytail, Replacement." "Shut it, Jason."-and showed his pale complexion, standing almost as tall as Dick from what the brothers could tell. He bore darkness with his black sweatshirt hooding his face and everything else he wore held the exact same darkness too besides the two silver pistols-the two silver pistols glistened in his pocket when he found out he had been replaced and checked the load to see it full, a small smirk across his face that he would prove Robins always end up falling-like his own.
"I am called-Red Robin, in honor of Robin and Red Hood-the Substitute." The teen said and Jason bit his lip under his helmet, "You can also call me Jason Todd."
Jason put his hands up, dropping his guns out and Nightwing blinked at this brother's actions.
"Listen, kid," Jason began and licked his lips under his helmet, "Do you remember anything about your life before you died?" The teen's eyes grew large at the fact the vigilante knew of his past and opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it.
"You shut your mouth." He hissed at Jason before he reached up to his Kelvar and pulled it, revealing the large Y scar he gained from his at his autopsy to both of his brothers. The guns clanged to the ground and the teen's body shock, memories flooding his head-"Do you still have your autopsy scars, Jason?" "Do I really have to answer that question, kid?" "I'm just curious…" "Yeah, they're still there. What brought that up?" "No reason…just curious."-and shakily pulled at the edges of his shirt.
And with a similar Y shaped scar, the two brothers knew that they had found their broken bird.
"Bruce we found him."
With those simple four words, Bruce Wayne bolted out of his office and meeting at the time. Exclamations and confusion erupted from the council and he shoved past them, needing to see his child in front of him to believe it. He pulled on his coat and waited as patiently he could for the elevator to arrive, his foot tapping in impatience.
"Mr. Wayne! Where the hell do you think you're going?!" Many called after him and he stepped into the elevator, quickly closing it behind him and with a stern face he went to go see his son again.
The Substitute gripped his guns tight in his hand as the other brothers stared at him as if he was a stranger. Damian sat the farthest away from him with his eyes slight large from the fact that he looked so different from what he had been-he had been at least someone approachable-but now he wore the familiar attitude and appearance of Jason Todd.
"Damian…" the teen said and the son of Batman snapped his attention to him, "Son of Batman and Talia al Ghul. Talia is Ra's daughter, correct?" Damian raised a questioning eyebrow at the teen then nodded at it. The teen's eyes shifted to a darker more cruel and twisted navy color and he gripped the guns tight, lifting it up to point at the preteen.
"Good, then you're going to take me to him before I lose use of you." He hissed and Damian narrowed his eyes at his older brother, scowling at him.
"Drake, why would I know anything about my mother since she-?" he said but a warning was fired, grazing his cheek and chipped a little bit of his ear.
"Tim Drake is dead! Get it through your thick skull!" the teen yelled at him and Damian looked away, the teen-rolled his eyes at the sight of Damian throwing a knife at him which he managed to catch with no blood spilled and said, "Practice your aim and maybe next time you'll be able to catch me off guard."-narrowed his eyes at the Brat.
"What the hell is going on down here?" Jason's voice echoed through the halls and the teen tapped his gun against the chair, trying to get the pounding headache out of his skull. Jason stomped over to them and narrowed his eyes at the sight of blood trailing down Damian's cheek.
"Kid, go wash that up. I need to go speak with-Red Robin, you pain the ass that was favorite gun!-the Substitute." He said with venom and Damian nodded, leaving without any snarky come back or threat. Jason turned to face the teen, reminding himself of what he had been back from digging himself out.
Tim Drake was the walking replacement of himself.
"Who killed you?" Jason asked so simply and the teen's eyebrows shot up, his finger on the trigger to shot the guy.
"If I had died, then how is it possible that I am alive?" he questioned Jason and Jason grind his teeth together, his mouth opened-and ready to scream but his throat clammed up on him, dry from lying in his coffin for a couple of years-to snarl at his brother.
"How do you think I felt when I woke up then?!" Jason screamed at him and grabbed his sweatshirt, pulling him up to face him, "You think Jason Todd died?! He was killed?! He died so innocently and went up to Heaven?!"
The teen's eyes grew large at Jason's tone and Jason continued, "Guess what? God shoved my existence back into my godforsaken body! Having to wake up in pain, no memories of my prier life but the single thought of 'where's Bruce?'?! I didn't even fucking know who Bruce was?! How does it feel to feel the maggots crawl around you and the soil drain every breath you try to take?! You should know, kid! I should know! I was killed by an explosion with a collapsed lung, brain damage, choking on my own blood! You suffered a shotgun wound to the lung, your throat slashed so everything you said was a gurgle, and the sword pierced through your skull to the other side dumbass! You clearly died as did I!
"Look at my scars and tell me how could I survived that?" Jason stated with a whisper and the teen's hands trembled, his eyes large at the facts that Jason stated.
"You couldn't." the teen said and tears wedeled up into the corner of his eyes, "You can't survive a blade through the skull or a throat slashed or a shotgun wound to the chest. Tim Drake…I had died. I don't remember everything; why is everything a blur? Why does it hurt so much? Why am I alive?"
Finally, Tim dropped his weapons and every single forgotten memory slapped him across the face: his morals, his standards, his family, his friends, his abilities, and his traditions.
They all shattered his soul.
He placed his hands to his head and screamed, clawing his hair and tearing his skin apart from what had happened to him.
He did what he never wanted to do.
He yet out another heart wrenching roar and grabbed the closest object, it being a Batarang, putting it to his neck.
He corrupted himself from within.
Jason went to grab the weapon and wrestle it out from his brother's grasp. Tim started to pierce his skin, pulling back the skin and crimson started to gush down his neck.
He had killed with a sick, twisted grin on his face to achieve his own greed of knowing who killed him.
"Stop it, kid!" Jason yelled and Tim waited for more pain to come but Jason had managed to toss the weapon aside so Tim was left bare handed with his own blood tumbling down in rivers. His eyes narrowed and madness tainted his body.
He wasn't human anymore.
Tim let an animalistic roar come up from his throat and reaching for his gun.
He gave up his humanity when he told Ra he would come back to kill him, ripping through his coffin to finish the job.
"Release me!" he snarled with his eyes narrowed in a flash of anger, a monster now coming out to play with the black sheep.
He would end the job, permanently.
Dick stared at the mess that Tim left in the Batcave, blood counting the floor and Jason gasping for breath with a terrified look in his eyes that left Dick wanting to go after the broken boy but he knew Jason's bleeding body came first. He couldn't send the youngest Robin, fearing that Damian would fall prey to Tim but sent Bruce instead.
He didn't know what happened to his-once precious, innocent little-brother.
He wanted him back but unfortunately death was his little brothers' best friend and when he finally released his grasp on them, they always came backed-insane-changed.
He looked back to Jason, who he saw was struggling to get up now, a crimson river growing and he rushed over to him. He placed a hand gently on his bleeding shoulder and whispered, "Stay down, Jaybird. You're hurt."
"No," Jason mumbled, "Babybird...he's hunting his killer."
Dick's sky blue eyes widen and said, "He remembers everything?"
"He's…like me, Dick. He's seeking vengeance." Jason whispered and started hacking, blood spitting out, "He's doing what he fears the most. Taking on the handle of what he fears, like myself. I…need to be there, Dick."
"Jason, you're seriously injured. Do you even know where his killer is?" Dick asked and Jason nodded, grabbing a random piece of cloth and wrapped it around his body to keep the blood from pooling out.
"I figured it out; I need to go." He hissed and started moving again. Dick stared at his younger brother, realizing that death would always be their first choice than safety from themselves.
Panting for breath, Tim Drake stood at the top of the bitter mountain, frost bite lingering on his fingers and breath. His eyes glued to the large door that the wind did not seem to bother and the multiple guards surrounding the place, each prepared to take a life with no regret. Tim twirled the guns around his fingers, waiting for the perfect timing to end their-annoying-existence with a single shot.
He took a deep breath before plunging himself back into the corrupted and sinful world of murder and slaughter with a large grin plastered across his face.
He feared he would become what he feared most.
That was the thought of most Bats, knowing the tale of Jason Todd's fallen from grace and resurrection back to the Hell called Earth.
Bruce wanted none of his children to become like the Joker, so demented and twisted, or Scarecrow, where he thrived on fear, or Poison Ivy, whom wanted to eliminate humanity from corrupting all of life, or Ra's al Ghul, who searched to exhaust the flame of life in every person.
Yet, his second oldest had fallen, tumbled down into the pits of fury and angst to be reborn as Red Hood.
Then his second youngest had made himself an enemy, killing himself in the process and seeked vengeance on the killer, wanting the man to pay for the price of his death.
He never expected Tim to die so suddenly or so young then return with so much pain and anger that he would bring with him.
He just wanted his kids back.
Tim sliced another throat, blood gushing over him now from the hundredth death he committed tonight and an emotionless expression plastered over his face. He turned around to see the green gold whisper out to him, daring him to take a bath with it. He breathed out a shiver and waiting patiently for his killer to arrive so he could finally end the mess so no other child would be lost to the manic.
Insanity weaved its way into his soul now that he had been brought back, death claiming a part of his soul and would forever hold it until he was brought back into his hands. He licked his lips of blood and twirled the blade around before gazing over to the Demon's Head daughter; her brown eyes that carried blood in it now longer lived in this world. He moved over to her and placed the sword to her neck, raising an eyebrow at her dead body.
"Could you still be revived after being decapitated, Ms. Al Ghul?" he whispered and grinned, his teeth shining in the dark, "I know you carry Lazarus blood in your twisted veins, so you shouldn't be dead just yet. I can imagine you're in horrid pain but I survived a shotgun to the chest and a slashed throat before dying so…" He moved his sword to her stomach and placed it gently on her skin before he started tearing it open, blood pooling out and he started digging deeper. Her organs beginning to pool out and he sighed, watching as they struggled to escape her wounded body.
"Understand the pain I suffered through, you pathetic piece if shit!" he snarled and reached in her body, his hand turning crimson and she started to scream. He grinned at her sounds of agony and pulled at her intestines, hoping they would snap and she would die so much painful.
Her eyes begged him to stop but he leaned down to her ear and whispered, "Shut up, you dare scream in pain but have you ever thought of the others you've killed, the suffering you caused your son, the pain you caused Bruce, the agony Jason went through? Don't you dare think you're suffering enough, Talia. You and your father have broken many lives and souls; everything happening to you right now is vengeance that you deserve."
Then he stopped, pulling his hand away and stared at it.
"Remember our morals, Tim, it's what keeps up centered and sane. Once you forget them, everything will crumble beneath your feet, leaving to hands of insanity and death. You don't ever want to end up like that."
Tim pulled himself away from Talia and looked back to the pit which kept their youth alive and running.
"Have you ever tasted the Pit, Talia?" Tim asked and she sputtered out blood, weakness now showing in her eyes, "I doubt anyone ever has. Would it taste like the Angels singing in Heaven or the pits of absolute Hell?"
He continued to ponder the thought and slowly walked to it, a burning quench in his throat to take sip of the glowing waters. He stared at it before moving to his knees and cupped his hands together, ready to dip them in and he licked his lips. He stuck his tongue out before dipping is body down low enough to get a small taste of it.
And with simple drip of the liquid, everything went downhill yet again for Timothy Drake.
And with madness, the boy fell off the edge into fear which he conquered so effortlessly.
Jason Todd and Dick Grayson watched as their younger brother swallowed the Lazarus, drinking in the substance that kept many alive and well from death. The teen's body glowed and drank it as if it was the last spring in the world full of desserts.
Tim then fell into the pool; his body engulfed in the glowing darkness and left Dick screaming his name.
Jason bolted past him and knew he had to take the risk of saving his brother over the insanity of the Pit. He pushes through the pile of bodies and jumps over the edge, the glowing green Hell ready to greet him one more time.
Oh the sweet delight of Lazarus granted was unimaginable, surrounding and filling his body. His eyes closed so he wouldn't be blinded by the light it gave off and swallowed more of it, burning his throat yet at the same time quenching his thirst. It was giving him more pleasure than one could ever think and he felt himself changing, the liquid influencing him physically, mentally, and psychologically.
Then something pulled him, shoving him away from his bliss and his eyes open to stare at the face of Jason Todd.
They both clawed up, thrashing and screaming in raw gaps of pain and insanity. He gurgled and placed his hands to his head, his thoughts swirling around and looked around. Human flesh stood in awe and he felt a rush go over him, chasing after the person but Jason grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him to the other boy.
Both boys then launched at each other, clawing and beating and thrashing and screaming and snarling and pulling at their grips of insanity.
"Can you fly little birdie?"
Jason reached for his brother, delirium ruling over his actions and a wide grin spread across his face. He wrapped his hands around Tim's throat and started squeezing it, Tim's eyes narrowed before sending a kick to the face and shoved him off.
"Look at yourself, nothing but a replacement. You are no use to anyone."
"NOT A REPLACEMENT!" Tim snarled and Jason started to laugh, moving away from his brother and placed his hands to his head.
"He'll come! He'll come!" Jason called and laughed again, tears floating to the surface, "He always comes! He always comes!"
"Not a replacement! Never was! Not follow footsteps!" Tim cried and looked back to the pool before he started to pant, "Need. Need. Need."
Then looked to his arms, placing a long fingernail against his pale skin and cut it. Blood spilled through and he went to the pool again, drawing down to murky depths.
"Become one with me." He whispered to the liquid and watched as the pit started to rise up to him, the poison making way to be one with the teen.
"Tim! Jason!" Dick cried and shattered the illusion for all of them; Tim's eyes snapped wide open while Jason stopped his unruly laughter with his eyes holding a large amount of fear. Tim turned to Dick and opened his mouth to say something before a shot was heard around the cave, a bullet passing right through Tim's eyes and the screams began once again.
Ra's al Ghul held a shotgun in his hand, staring at the teen with his green eyes full of disappointment and annoyance. Tim then fell back into the pool of evil and had Jason and Dick screaming his name in horror.
He had been a Robin at first but then he got bloody, transforming himself as Red Robin.
Tim stared at the bright light of the Pits, his will being forced aside and he was left dying yet again by his killer.
He didn't want to die again by the same Demon!
His eyes narrowed and grind his teeth tight, opening his arms so he could accept the darkness of insanity and death.
He would get his vengeance even if he had to toss his humanity away.
Jason and Dick charged at the murderer who killed their brother yet again with pure unadulterated rage towards the monster. Jason held a knife, slashing and trashing at the man only managing to cut his cheek while Dick had beat him with his Escrima sticks, managing to bruise the man.
"How dare you!" Dick screamed at the man, ignoring any other wounds to his own body.
"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Jason yelled at the Demon's Head then Ra stopped defending himself, his eyes wide in shock what appeared behind the two brothers. With one quick swipe, Jason managed to cut a piece of skin off and Ra then fell to his knees, gasping.
"You have the Lazarus Pit running through your veins, Ra's al Ghul. And with it, it shall be the death of you."
The unmistakable voice had the two brothers face the Pits, their eyes unbelievably large at the sight of their younger brother.
Tim stood tall, the Lazarus coating his entire body with his eyes glowing green from the Pit. His hair returned back to noir and now green tipped the ends of it, cascading onto the floor with a sizzle. His wounds inked out Lazarus from what would be blood but no more of the crimson liquid spilled and rested in his veins. He now looked just around Jason's age, with more age glistening his eyes yet anger radiated off of him.
He pointed an oozing finger to him and opened his mouth, the Lazarus glowing wildly in his throat from what he swallowed of it.
"You have spilled the blood of many innocents; sending your children and grandchildren to fight a war that only you believe in. No child should suffer the consequences of lineage." He said with a sickly tone and then Ra placed his hands to his throat, his eyes bugging out of his head and started gasping.
"You have created this mess, Ra." Tim stated and walked to him, his footsteps leaving erosion in them, "Now you shall deal with the consequences. I shall take the Lazarus back to where it belongs; you have no right to bare its power."
Ra looked over to Tim before bolted up and moving right pass him, trying to save himself from Timothy's rage by jumping into the Lazarus Pit yet he stopped short when he looked down to the Pits. His eyes large and snapped around to Tim, spilling out, "You became the Lazarus itself in exchange for your humanity?! Are you mad?!"
Tim sighed and then before another thing could be said, he pressed his hand against Ra's face and the screaming started again but this time from his killer as he drained the man of all components of the Lazarus Pits. The man's pained screams becoming nothing more as Tim watched the man suffer as his skin began to wrinkle, his hair falling off, and teeth decaying in his mouth.
"Madness, as you know, is like gravity, all it takes is a little push." Tim said and finally Ra's al Ghul's body crumbled to the floor as a pile of what the man had been hiding: sucked in lungs, ribs poking out from every side of his body, his skin sketched far beyond repair, and being an all dried up corpse was what he remained as.
"Insanity is simple game to play, to fool others to follow you down when you know where the maze ends so when you escape you can laugh at the fools who got lost. Many men struggle with the acceptance of being insane; they can't ignore the simple fact rolling around in their head so they become monsters wishing to stay inside their little maze and never figure out the end because it became too much fun." Tim whispered to them all before turning to his shocked brothers and then closed his eyes, breathing out with the glowing light of the Lazarus dulling down. He smiled at his brothers and said, "It's good to be back."
Batman was shocked to see his boys walk out of the castle with barely any injuries besides the large explosion behind them as they escaped. His eyes widen behind the mask and felt his breath being taking away as Jason and Dick gripped Tim tight, never thinking he would see the sight of the three of them being together without fighting.
"Hey, Bruce, would you mind give a helping hand?" Dick asked and Batman rushed over to their side, gripping Tim tight in his arms and tears now on the edges of his eyes.
"Tim…" he whispered and looked to his other boys before wrapping them in his hug, "Jason…Dick…Thank God, you're ok."
Jason froze at the touch of Bruce hugging him; he hadn't felt his touch in so long and missed it so much. He grabbed Bruce's arm hard and kept him close, not wanting him to release him.
Then Tim quickly pulled away to the brothers' and Bruce's shock.
"Listen," he said and glanced back at the burning castle, "I can't stay anyway."
"What? Why?" Bruce asked and Tim sighed, sadness echoing in his eyes but now with an eerie green glow.
"Timothy Drake gave up his humanity when he was killed by Ra's al Ghul. My name is عازر ; I am the Lazarus Pit in human form. No blood course through the body but the Pits itself; I will claim back all traces of the Lazarus." He said and glanced over at Jason, "I will make only one exception: Jason Todd, shall be the only other holder of the Pits; it still flows in his bloodstream and when the time is right, I shall come back to collect it. Do not die so soon, Jason, or I will greet you soon enough."
Bruce opened his mouth to say something before Tim whispered under his breath in Arabic, "وارتفاع، تغلي، حشد التذمر من الكائنات البشرية التي هي بالاسم فقط، لللعين والأذن ويبدو أنها شيء ولكن المخلوقات المتوحشة، والرسوم المتحركة بواسطة المشاعر الدنيئة وشهوة الانتقام والكراهية. " And with those final words to say, Tim Drake disappeared into the jungle leaving nothing left to the Wayne and Bat family.
"Humans create monsters and then they hold no control over them. The world is run by them and so forth the people have to learn how to deal with it or they will crack under the pressure. Human beings have dark sides; they have to face their monsters or eventually they will run rampant. The battles between the monsters end with either winning that day to live another day or it leads to the destruction of their morals and the end of their humanity.
"Look at the human race, it's become disgusting; living in a word of greed and lust and hate, it's so terrible and lost. No one can no longer control them; they are of freewill and have a never-ending cycle. Monsters hold their soul and drag them down to their own personal Hell.
"Have they no shame? After hiding in the shadows so long, they should know by now. Let them cower in the corner and leave their traces of humanities in the light so the darkness can corrupt their soul. Now that leaves those who cast away their humanity in the beginning to wreak havoc on the world but nothing holds them back so…." The man paused at his sentence and glanced around him, seeing the walls painted crimson and bodies scattered around on the floor, "Why not send one also to hunt them down?"
Emerald green eyes glowed in the darkness and a smirk crossed his face, his and opening and cackled green goop over his palm falling onto the floor with a sizzle.
"The Lazarus has only begun his hunt."
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
-Friedrich Nietzsche