Originally intend this to be posted as one long beginning and separate ending. However as I write the words in ink (or digital pixels) I realized that I'd have to do more than one chapter if I wasn't to burn out. So this is what happens when I read/watch too much Batman. Reviews mean I will update faster because like all humans I love to be praised for my works ;) Enjoy!
My name is Timothy Drake. I am 15 years old, and right now I feel like the line of a bad joke. Not the punch line though, that's the guy I'm tied up with. I'm trying not to stare at him, but he's obviously been through the mill. Joker had been gone the last couple of hours before dragging this guy back. Though I get the feeling that he beat him with a crowbar before tossing him in here with me.
He lies slumped over against a crate, his face is covered in an unruly mop of black hair, though there is a grey streak between his eyes. Or where I suppose his eyes are. He wears a slate grey hoodie that is zipped open to show a light grey t-shirt, it looks like he had been wearing a bullet proof vest underneath but not anymore. His trousers are a darker grey, more black, and they have random pockets that have to look of weapon holders though at the moment they were vacant. Blood stains his skin and clothing and is puddled around his legs. It's still slowly dripping from his mouth.
'Will Batman and Nightwing show up already?!' I though with frustration. We had all gone out for reconnaissance and somehow ended up splitting up. I had gone after what we thought was one of Joker's goons while the other two had gone after what we had agreed was more likely the real thing. Were we ever decided. I can only hope they get here soon, mostly for this guys sake.
The rattle of the lock brings me back to reality, where I am hanging by my wrists from the ceiling, my toes barely touching the floor. I look up as the Joker walked in, crowbar in hand, grinning his wild grin. The crowbar is covered in blood stains, some old and dry, other new and glistening. Now I know for sure grey-streak was beat before being tossed here with me.
"Hello again Boy Blunder!" Joker laughs and whacks the other person with his crowbar. There is no response other than a twitch of the muscles. "Been talking much, no? Well I suppose a capsized lung will do that to ya… or what that last time? Hahaha! Either way you shouldn't be speaking for a while should ya!" He cackled then walked over to where I hung. "Bats hasn't come yet? Oh bother. Hmm, I suppose…" With a deft movement he breaks the chains holding my wrists and I feel a shock go through me as I hit the concrete floor. Unfortunately I felt my left leg hit one of the many crates in here, bruising my shin. I heard footsteps as Joker walked back towards the door. "Goodnight birdies! See you in the morning!" With a final cackle he left, bolting the door behind him. I pushed myself up to my knees, and after getting the feeling back in my arms and hands shoved the chains to a corner, where they lay like a silver snake.
After that I directed my attention towards my cell mate, after all this warehouse closet was essentially a cell, he was in the same position as before. Though now that I was closer I could see him shoulders rising and falling in quick deep breaths.
"Excuse me, are you okay?" Stupid question, but I don't know what else to start with.
"Excuse me? Are you okay?" He heard the words but somehow could not process them through the waves of pains shooting through his body. He subconsciously tried to respond, to say something or to move. He was able to move his hand a little, twitching his fingers, but soon found it trapped under... under another hand. Smaller, but warm and firm, most certainly not the Joker. "I'm going to try to help you sit up straight, all right? If I hurt you squeeze my hand tighter." A child's voice, the kid couldn't be over 18 not in any way. He felt the kids hand grasp his as he felt an arm wrap around his torso and pull him up to a sitting position. His weight was shifted over the kids shoulder. He felt himself moved slightly so that he was now half supported by the wall. Bit of a good thing too as he though he might crush the kid, and the wall had a heater on the other side so it was warm against his back, an artificial heat but warmth nevertheless.
"Can you speak?" The kid asked looking into his eyes. Blue eyes met light green as they surveyed each other's faces. Or what they could see.
"Kind of…" He managed to gasp out before doubling over in a coughing fit. He felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and shivered.
"Are you cold? I, I can get a blanket. Hang on!" He felt himself being fully leaned back against the wall and heard the kid go rummage through and around the crates. Smart thinking, they probably had blankets or padding inside the crates and around them. Now that he had someone to talk to, someone to put his mind towards he didn't feel the pain as he did before; it was becoming a dull ache now instead of a sharp flame. He heard a few more bumps then something warm being pressed around his shoulders.
"It was the best I could find, an old fleece one, not as many holes as the rest so, I thought it would do. Here, I'll try to patch your wounds with some torn up pieces from the other ones I found."
A few minutes later he felt better, with a blanket around him and the worst of his wounds no longer bleeding, and... a friend. Finally he looked up and realized something he had failed to notice earlier.
"You, you are Robin, that boy wonder kid." How could he have failed to realize that earlier, he should have at least taken the mask into consideration.
"Yeah, I am." The kid, Robin, looked a little embarrassed as he spoke. "But umm, I don't know what to call you."
"I am called Re-" He paused for a moment, thinking. His hood lay somewhere else, Joker had ripped it off earlier leaving him in his red domino mask. "No, never mind that. My name is... my name is Jason." He hung his head, half gasping for breath, half anxious to see what the kid would make of that. If he was Robin, would he know?
"Nice to meet you Jason." He felt Robin give him a small handshake, obviously trying to not cause him further injury.
"You too." He looked Robin over from head to toe, the kid was in light short sleeves with basically, well, tights, underneath! Without any gloves to cover the rest of his arms Jason wondered how the boy couldn't be cold, or perhaps he was, but was not going to show weakness anywhere near Joker.
He moved his right arm up as far as he could in what he hoped was a gesture of welcoming. Fortunately the boy took it as such, curling up next to him, trying not to be invasive yet keep warm. Jason still pulled him to his chest easily. Feeling the warm spreading from the kids body to his. It was a lovely feeling to feel that kind of warmth again, actual living warmth, not just a heat blanket or a heater behind a wall, and he felt Robin snuggling into his chest. Soon he could hear rhythmic breathing as the teen slept, trusting Jason not to murder him in his sleep. Jason moved so he was protecting the boy as he slept. Right now Jason didn't care about his reputation. All he wanted was a break from the pain that hurt him even though he was no longer loosing blood. He felt himself drifting off to sleep and right before dropping off looked up at the roof, where he could see the night sky and a star through a small hole in the metal. 'Where are you Bruce? Why haven't you come for the boy yet?' He wondered, then gave himself up to the peaceful blackness.
Just a note that Jason is 19. He is spectacled to be 3-4 years older than Tim so I made him a middle 19, and Tim a late 15, almost 16 as you will later see…
If Jason seems a bit OOCish it's not what I'm aiming at. I've studied the character and I think his loneliness and lack of human contact would make him more venerable to a child like Tim as portrayed here. Speaking of which sorry if Tim is too soft, haven't read many comics with him as a main character. Need to find some though