When Dick finally came to again, it was already midday. Jason had, thankfully, carried Dick back up to his room so he could sleep things off. He had even gone as far as to arrange him in a comfortable sleeping position, though he hadn't taken off the remnants of Dick's Batsuit.
Upon waking up, Dick ditched the suit immediately and cleaned himself up, dressing himself in some comfortable jeans and a shirt. He was careful to place the suit neatly at the foot of his bed, knowing that Alfred would pick it up during his usual checkup, and then made his way down the stairs to the breakfast nook, where he could grab a bite to eat.
As he exited his room, he caught a glimpse of the master bedroom down the hall, and resisted the urge to sigh. Outside of the occasional cleaning, Bruce's old room had been left almost entirely untouched since his death. They had searched it, of course, for any information or secrets he left behind (precaution and all that) but there was nothing of the sort there, so a brief debate had sprung up over whether or not someone should take the room now that he was gone. It was quickly determined that either Dick or Damian should take it, but Damian had quickly bowed out, out of respect for Dick, who he declared was the rightful owner as the new head of the family. Dick, of course, had refused, so the room remained as it was, like a shrine to their long-deceased father.
Sometimes, however, during his harder moments, Dick went inside that room and pretended that Bruce really was still there so he could talk to him for advice. Being Batman had been difficult enough the first time around, but his current tenure was currently driving him over the bend. He was up to three years and already felt like he could fall into a bed and sleep and never wake up. How had Bruce managed for seventeen?
Barely, his mind supplied. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, people said, and Dick had gotten a crash course over how much stress his father had been putting himself through the years. He had known that, intellectually, and even experienced it himself briefly, but only seemed like now it was starting to sink in. It was only now he could look back and see the tired edge that Bruce did with everything, with the way he overworked himself to near-death every night just trying to keep track of all the cases and projects he had his fingers in. Saying you knew what he was going through and actually knowing what he was going through were two entirely different things, Dick was beginning to realize.
Bruce wasn't completely innocent of his emotional incompetence, but it was so much easier to understand why he had remained that way. While Dick was still under the firm opinion that he should've done something about it a long time ago, it was becoming increasingly obvious why he never really tried. So many excuses combined with his already present psychological issues and a stubborn refusal to get help with the latter (which, considering this was Gotham, was not entirely without merit) — it was a recipe for disaster that his father was only beginning to finally correct the last six months before he died and left them bereft.
It was taking everything Dick had not to fall into the same trap, and even though he had a far stronger support system than Bruce, it felt like he was still falling into it anyway. The breakup with Barbara, the deaths of Kate and Renee and Wally, the Joker, and now this thing with Tim — even though he succeeded with getting rid of the Court of Owls, it seemed like everything was going for the worse, that the work would never end. He loved Bruce, and missed him, but by God did he hate him for leaving him with this thankless job.
"You've got that look on your face again."
"Shut up, Jay," Dick said tiredly, plopping down into his usual seat at the end of the table and hardly blinking when his younger brother slid over a piping hot dish whose name was probably something he couldn't pronounce. Jason tended to get fancy and experimental with his cooking whenever he was at the Manor. It was a testament to his talent that no one ever had reason to complain, not even the notoriously picky and vegetarian Damian.
It also made life easier for poor Alfred, who simply didn't have the energy to annually cook meals for an indeterminate number of vigilantes three times a day anymore. Alas, the family butler was getting old, and the added grief over his original charge's death was only advancing his deterioration. While he still picked up after them and stayed up to serve them during their crazy nights, he often spent his days fast asleep in his room, trying to get more rest to handle what chores they couldn't take off his hands.
Jason sat his own plate in front of the seat adjacent to his, quickly doubling back into the kitchen to bring over a pitcher of water and two glasses, causing Dick to groan when he realized he wouldn't be getting any coffee. "Jason? Please?"
"No," Jason said bluntly, "If you want caffeine, either get a soda from the fridge or make the coffee yourself."
Dick was too tired to do any of that, so he merely sighed and started pouring himself a glass. "I hate you."
"You're the one who refused to let me get drunk on a daily basis, so you only have yourself to blame."
"Yeah, yeah," Dick grumbled, "I thought drugging me was supposed to help me rest, not make more tired."
"You just woke up, Dickie," Jason pointed out, "Not to mention the fact that Tim is not the only workaholic in this family, you hypocrite."
"You're such a dad."
"Takes one to know one," his younger brother easily retorted, "Speaking of that, Damian and Cass arrived home this morning."
"Oh?" Dick perked up, "How did their missions go?"
"Cass' was uneventful. Only had to fight two assassins. As for the demonspawn, he was bitching about Jon using an asteroid for a kickball and nearly wrecking the team's ship. Other than that however things apparently went relatively smoothly."
"Good. The last thing the League needs to deal with is sending over a member to babysit the Titans' next mission. I think Hal Jordan is still recovering from the trauma of last time. He still winces whenever he sees someone eating hot dogs." Which of course meant that the newly-inducted Bart Allen had made it his mission to eat hot dogs whenever in Jordan's line of sight. It was not making his transition from Young Justice to the Justice League a smooth one.
They continued with the conversation for several minutes while taking occasional breaks to eat, and after they were both finished with the main dish, Jason took both of the dirty plates to the sink, and brought out dessert — a small bread pudding topped with some vanilla ice cream. It took Dick everything he had not to salivate at the sight. "I thought you hated dealing with my sugary-high ass?"
"You took your pills, Dickie. This is your reward," Jason jabbed a spoon at him, "Don't push it."
Dick held up his hands in denial, showing that he very much did not plan to 'push it', and dived in.
Once the bread pudding was sufficiently polished off and Jason was in the midst of cleaning the dishes, Dick went outside for some fresh air. It was the middle of summer, the sun was shining, and he had been dead to the world all morning. It would be nice to stretch his leagues and observe the overgrown topiaries that Alfred no longer had the energy to manicure. There was some talk over hiring an agency to handle the Manor's more strenuous cleaning tasks, but as long as Alfred was still able to move they knew he wouldn't allow it, for security if not for pride.
It's not like they used much of the Manor anymore anyway. Other than the breakfast nook, the family wing, the guest wing, and the gym, the building remained largely untouched, much like the master bedroom. They were a relatively small family for such a large home, and most of them didn't actually live at that home any longer. Jason commuted from his apartment in Crime Alley, located right above the diner he had devoted his time to, and only stayed over occasionally. Tim also lived on his own, in a penthouse over at Wayne Tower where he didn't have to commute for his own job as CEO of Wayne Enterprises.
Cass and Damian were both technically full-time residents like Dick, but they were constantly traveling for missions and, in the case of the former, work. Damian in particular was trying to squeeze in as much time with his friends on the Titans before he inevitably had to take an extended leave to establish himself as the new Nightwing in Bludhaven. Since Damian had made his intentions to succeed Dick as Nightwing known years ago, preparations had already been started by Tim for his arrival.
A smaller but still sizable replica of Wayne Tower was being built in Bludhaven, with the bottom half serving as another branch of both Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation, while the top half acted as housing quarters for the higher-level employees. Damian was pinged to head this branch when he graduated from high school, and the new penthouse was practically his already. Even more than that, Tim had used his friendship with Bart and gotten him, Wallace West, and the other adult members of the Flash Family to help build a satellite Bat-Cave with an in-built teleporter that could transport to the penthouse and back. A far more secure base than the two-apartment setup Dick had during his own time as Nightwing. The fact that Tim had gone so far for Damian despite their often volatile relationship showed how much they had come to care for each other.
It was a bittersweet feeling, seeing Damian so excited about finally spreading his wings in his own city. While Dick was proud of how far his youngest brother had come from that homicidal baby assassin that both Tim and Jason had nicknamed 'demonspawn' (which, Dick was forced to admit, not an entirely inaccurate descriptor), it also served as a reminder of how much time had passed. Damian was growing up and leaving him behind, and it was hard because Dick loved him less as a brother and more of a son. Was this how Bruce felt, seeing Dick grow up and moving out of the Manor to live his own life? It would certainly explain how nasty their relationship had gotten around that time.
After Dick, it seemed Bruce couldn't stand the idea of him and Alfred being the only ones in the Manor, and Dick himself wasn't keen on the idea either. The place just felt so empty, and the disuse of the Manor's once-frequented entertainment facilities was proof of that. A consequence of their vigilante lifestyle — none of them could dare risk letting an outsider find out their secret identities, and that meant no hosting parties or anything of the sort at the Manor without extensive preparations.
There was Wayne Hall, of course, but that place was far too ostentatious for any event they would want to hold for the foreseeable future. From what Dick heard, Jason had nearly vomited at the size of the building, of the sheer waste that had been used to build it, the first time he saw Wayne Hall, and Dick couldn't really blame him. Even for a circus kid like him, who was no stranger to large venues, could barely conceive of the idea of building a place like Wayne Hall for one family's personal use. For a street rat like Jason, who spent years trying to survive every day like it was his last, it must've been a thousand times worse.
But the refusal to use Wayne Hall, much like the overgrown topiaries Dick was observing now, served as a reminder of how little of the Manor was in use. Honestly, if it hadn't been for how long the Wayne Family had resided within the Manor (not to mention the Bat-Cave below), he would seriously consider bringing up to the rest of the family the idea of selling the house. Or, at the very least, shutting it down. Perhaps even offering it to the city as a potential historical site, considering the number of family heirlooms and sheer history that had survived the building even through its worst incidents, like No Man's Land.
There were many happy memories within this building, for Dick especially, but the fact was that barely anyone was living on the grounds beside himself. Even Damian's menagerie of pets had found a new home at Titans Tower down in San Francisco. His youngest brother could hardly house them at his new residence in Bludhaven, and with Alfred's failing health, the Manor wasn't a desirable home either. There was just Dick and Alfred, and Dick wasn't sure he could handle living alone like that for much longer. It was one thing with an apartment, but for a colossus like Wayne Manor?
As Dick continued to ruminate over the possibilities, something strange caught his eye. It seemed a family of birds had built a nest within one of the topiaries, the one Dick was fairly certain used to be a giraffe. Normally this wouldn't mean much — any harm to animals meant suffering Damian's wrath, which, as much as Alfred was adept at handling, was something that no one liked to contend with much — but the birds weren't moving. At all. They were completely frozen.
In mid-air.
Dick stared at the sight for a long moment, then rushed back to the house, careful not to trip over his own feet. Jason, who was wiping his hands dry with a cloth towel as he exited the breakfast nook, raised an eyebrow at his harried appearance. Before he could ask what was going on, Dick grabbed him by the hand and dragged him outside to show his findings.
Much like Dick, Jason stared in disbelief. "What the fuck."
"So it's not just me?"
"No. No, it is not just you." Jason blinked, and this time it was Dick that was dragged away. Jason guided him to the grandfather clock in the living room, which indicated it was noon.
"Noon was two hours ago," his younger brother explained, and now Dick had to squash down panic. On a hunch, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, and Jason and him could only gape at what they saw.
The channel the TV opened on was the Gotham City News, whose feed was frozen and still, much like the birds outside. A quick flick through the other channels indicated that this was not an isolated incident — every channel was completely static and unmoving. It was as if time had stopped, for everyone except them.
"Fuck," Jason summed it up succinctly.
Dick would have agreed, except he was now rushing up back the stairs for his cell phone. "Try to wake up Alfred!" He ordered Jason. "Whether you succeed or not, meet me in the Cave right after!"
While Jason had managed to rouse Alfred from his slumber, Dick's search for his cell phone had ultimately proved pointless. Upon one look, it became clear that whatever was causing the current phenomenon was blocking cell reception. There was not a single bar to be found, and Dick doubted he would find any better reception anywhere else in the house or outside. With that in mind, he went downstairs to the Cave, and tried for the emergency comm system attached to the Bat-Computer instead, hoping to get a return signal from either the Maiden Tower or even the Watchtower if need be. He doubted that would be successful either, but he had no intention of personally surveying the city for the unknown and most likely dangerous unless absolutely necessary. Such recklessness would serve no one.
Alas, the assumption proved correct. While they managed to turn on the Bat-Computer, the system itself was completely isolated barring some access to the Internet. They were effectively on their own. Once that was confirmed, Dick hadn't hesitated and immediately had Jason and himself suited up for combat. A search of the Manor and the surrounding grounds had followed, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that could be found, so attentions quickly turned to the city as another possible point of origin. Alfred had been ordered to stay within the Cave for his own safety, while they dove into Gotham to figure out the current situation.
"Should we split up?" Red Hood asked the moment he fitted his helmet on.
Batman shook his head, grunting. "No communications, remember? I'm not risking either one of us as it currently is. It's bad enough we don't know where everyone else is."
According to Red Hood, Tim had immediately departed for the penthouse after Dick had benched him while Damian and Cass had left an hour before Dick woke up with Stephanie for an early lunch at a new restaurant in the Financial District. Presumably, that's where they all were now, but if Gotham was in the same state of suspended animation as the Manor was, then they might've elected to go exploring the city instead to figure out what was going on.
Red Hood crossed his arms. "Then what are our primary objectives? Besides, you know, figuring out what the hell is going on?"
Batman frowned, thinking it over for a moment. "Well, obviously locating everyone is a priority, though that's only if the entire population of the city is frozen like those birds. If they are, then we collect everyone and hash out a plan then. If not, then we'll have to assume the rest of the Family is safe and search for the source of the issue ourselves." It's entirely possible that only the Manor was affected, but their search of the estate had not borne any fruit so they could only assume that the city was affected as well. That typically was the case when it came to things like this.
His partner opened his mouth to ask for further clarifications and details, but was cut off.
"Young sirs!"
Both men whirled around to see Alfred stuck in the clutches of…Batman!?
At the very least, it was someone dressed up in a suit resembling the current Batman. The suit itself was different — for one, the jawline wasn't visible, covered with a mesh mask. The aesthetics were darker, with almost no gray anywhere except the Bat symbol on his chest. Most of all, however, was the sheer menace he was exuding. Batmen (all two of them, because God knows Jean-Paul Valley certainly didn't count and the man himself would agree) were always intimidating, always terrifying, but this one…this one just seemed evil.
Faux-Batman, as the current Batman had immediately dubbed in his head, glared at them both with red eyes, and Batman and Red Hood responded with falling into fighting stances. The former took out a pair of batarangs, while Hood drew his guns, giving them a quirk twirl before aiming both at their new enemy's knees.
"Let him go!" Batman demanded angrily, tensing himself for combat. One of Red Hood's guns made an audible click! to punctuate his statement.
The Faux-Batman simply tilted his head, and before anyone else could react, a bright, white light flooded the room. When the light was gone, only Alfred Pennyworth remained, bewildered and shaken.
I am getting really sick of waking up like this… Batman grumbled to himself as he opened his bleary eyes to an unfamiliar, silver ceiling. Next to him he could hear a familiar moan of exhaustion, indicating that whatever that Faux-Batman had done to him he had done to Red Hood as well. Batman sat up, blinking to clear his vision, and frowned. They had been teleported out of the Cave to somewhere else. And as for where that was…
"Batman!"
"Cass!" Batman whirled around, feeling a brief pang of happiness. His sister was there, unharmed and in civilian clothing — a long-sleeved shirt and jogging pants. At least that meant she wouldn't be too encumbered if they had to get into a fight, which was becoming increasingly likely with every passing moment.
"Cass…?" Red Hood asked, words slurred. Immediately, Batman went to his side, and Cass and him helped their last present sibling sit up and finally get some blood back to the rest of his body.
"Where are the others?" Batman asked as Red Hood got his bearings back.
Cass shook her head sadly. "After city froze, we tried to figure out what was going on. We found no clues, so we tried to go to Maiden Tower instead to see if Oracle found anything, but there was this white light and I woke up here with you two."
"No Alfred?" Red Hood asked, suddenly alert.
"None," Batman confirmed. "It's just the three of us."
"But then where are—"
Red Hood was cut off once again, when three TV screens dropped from the ceiling above and turned on. Everyone turned pale at each of the feeds. In one was a full view of the insides of the Maiden Tower, where Luke and Barbara were facing off with what looked like to be Brother EYE, having taken over the latter's systems. On another were Duke and Stephanie, running through some kind of lethal obstacle course, seeing them dodge lethal buzzsaws and spike-filled pits with a sort of rush that suggested even greater danger if they didn't keep moving.
However, the absolute worst feed was the middle one, which was focused entirely on the interior of Wayne Manor — and the downright brutal duel being waged inside.
Damian woke up.
It sucked.
The floor he was laying on was hard, cold, and oddly familiar. His head was killing him. He could barely see anything. As his sight righted itself, he blinked.
He knew that ceiling.
Sitting up slowly, he looked around to confirm his suspicion, and it seemed he was correct. Richard's old gymnastics course, Todd's punching bag, Cassandra's ribbons — this was the Manor's gym. Not the training center located in the Cave, the actual gym where they did they're general routines and workouts. The kind that, if seen by civilians, wouldn't connect them to their vigilante identities, even though it was largely redundant considering how they almost never allowed anyone that wasn't somehow connected to superheroism into their house.
"How did I get here?" He asked no one. The air didn't answer him, so he opted to leave instead.
He departed from the gym, creeping down the halls slowly. This may be his house, but recent events had shown that not even home was safe right now. It was better to be safe than sorry. He thought of going to the study and heading down to the Cave, but the sound of rustling downstairs stopped him. Someone else was here.
The rustling seemed to have come from the kitchen, so Damian was conscious to keep his footsteps light. He approached the room, readying himself for a fight, only to relax when he saw it was just Drake. The other man was looking out the windows of the nook, staring at the front yard.
"Drake," he called out to his brother, making the other man turn around. "What happ—"
The warning was minute. Just a twinge of the body. But anyone who had trained, sparred, and worked with Cassandra Cain as long as he had could read the attack from a mile away.
Damian just barely managed to grab a nearby wooden cutting board to block the bo-staff aimed to take his head off. It wasn't entirely effective, as the staff was made of a light, strong steel while the wooden board was clearly on its last leg after years of use. His impromptu shield splintered into pieces, and he was forced to retreat, idly making a note in the back of his head to buy a new board for Alfred and Jason to use when this was all over.
"What the hell, Drake!" He demanded angrily. Only then did he notice his brother's appearance — more specifically, his eyes, which were glowing a crimson red.
In Damian's experience, that was rarely ever a good thing. And considering that he was best friends with a Kryptonian hybrid, that was saying a lot.
Tim moved to attack, Damian dodged, and the dance began.
As they watched a screaming Damian demand his older brother to snap out of whatever mind control he was under, a slow clap caught their attention. The three siblings turned around to see the Faux-Batman was the culprit, and while they couldn't see his face, the contours of the mesh mask that covered the bottom half of his head suggested he was smiling. The very sight of it enraged Batman.
"Who the hell are you!?"
"Isn't it obvious, Dick Grayson? I'm one of your successors."
"A time traveler," Red Hood instantly deduced, sounding equally parts angry and exasperated, "Because why the fuck not?"
His reaction was understandable. Time travel had gotten a very bad rap after the Flashpoint Incident, which saw Barry Allen travel back in time to save his mother from her death by the already meddling Eobard Thawne. This led to the notorious Flashpoint Timeline, which saw the world gone completely to hell, and when Barry tried to correct that timeline, created a not quite as bad, but still pretty suspect timeline that saw the erasure of several people from existence, such as Lian Harper and most of the Flash Family, including Wally West. As it turned out, that was the work of another reality warper from another alternate universe, who corrected the timeline mostly back to where it originally was, barring some changes like Wallace West, the third Kid Flash.
The entire incident had a negative effect on Barry Allen's reputation, with more than one superhero, especially among the younger generation, preferring to work with his successor Wally over him. Barry had to work hard to earn everyone's trust back, and had mostly succeeded by the time he died for good. It helped that not all the changes were horrible, like the aforementioned Wallace West. Even so, time travel had been treated far less cavalierly than it used to be, and was now regarded as a last resort-option for all situations from then out. But as for time traveling-heroes and -villains…
"Okay, what the fuck are you trying to save us from? Nuclear war? Invading alien army? Some hero turning evil?" Red Hood's statement more than expressed that irritated exhaustion that Batman, and no doubt Cass as well, felt.
"Your own incompetency." If the Faux-Batman was in any way put off by the sudden casualness his opponents were treating the situation, he didn't show it.
Nobody looked impressed, and Cass even visibly rolled her eyes. "And just what exactly did our incompetency cause?" she asked, sarcasm more than evident in her tone.
"A wasteland."
"A wasteland," now even Batman was getting into it, "Let me guess: a superhero whose powers got out of control? Or maybe a villain will failed to stop because we weren't willing to go far enough? Oh, or maybe even an impending mass-apocalyptic threat that we weren't able to detect and prepare ourselves for fast enough!"
There wasn't a visible tick above Faux-Batman's eye, but it was obvious the sentiment was there. "This is not a laughing matter!"
"Of course it isn't," Batman agreed in a derisive tone, "But if you really are one of my successors, you would know that this is not the first time we've faced something like this. Even more than that, you would know that this bullshit never works. Whenever some person from the future comes back in time to 'fix' the past all they end up doing is causing more damage while lecturing us for our 'primitive' and 'obsolete' ways while failing to actually the correct the problem they traveled back for."
Faux-Batman shifted around awkwardly at this statement. It seems not even he could deny that Batman had something of a point.
"But," Batman added, while discreetly reaching into his utility belt for a batarang, "seeing as you're obviously so intent on 'fixing' this problem, the least we can do is hear you out. Which one is it? Hero out of control, villain we didn't stop, or mass doom?"
"…The second one," Faux-Batman grunted, sounding a little put out.
"And let me guess — you're pissed at me because I didn't kill them and they ended up doing something terrible," Batman sounded tired, "what did they do?"
"He burned half of Gotham down in a raging fire that killed tens of thousands and left even more destitute. Gotham was then overrun with criminals, and yet still you refused to change your methods, sticking to the foolish idea of allowing the 'proper authorities' to handle their punishments. We might as well have become a No Man's Land again thanks to your negligence!"
Everyone stared. The Faux-Batman didn't care about how dumbstruck they seemed to be and continued on with his rant. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he had been holding this in for a while and was using this situation to finally vent.
"Right then," Batman said slowly, "Perhaps we should talk about this more—"
"No!" It seemed Faux-Batman's temper had finally be triggered, "Enough with the patronizing! It's time you listen! Because you, Dick Grayson, were so obsessed with keeping the moral high ground like Bruce Wayne, you refused to kill Blight even after he purposely started the fire and destroyed the bridges that prevented outside aid. Even after Blight was poised to kill you, you kept insisting you were right, and insisted that weak fool Damian Wayne continued with those methods in your will as you named him your successor. I knew that if Gotham were to survive, someone else needed to take charge, so I killed Damian to claim the mantle for myself."
"What!?" That revelation finally broke everyone out of their stupor, and Batman visibly restrained himself from attacking the man who, in one lifetime, killed his youngest sibling.
"You bastard!" Red Hood snarled, and Cass had to pin him down lest he break the Rule for the first time in several years.
"You said the same thing the first time around, Jason Todd," Faux-Batman retorted angrily, "I thought you of all people would understand, but you denounced me instead and turned the rest of the Family against me, all because your own slavish devotion to Grayson. I was forced to kill you and them to regain control of Gotham and implement my plan. The Justice League, of course, tried to stop me, but I managed to outwit them until I completed the initial steps. Alas, they sabotaged the last phase, forcing me to improvise. I traveled back in time, and starting laying out the groundwork in this era."
"The groundwork…?" Immediately, Batman paled. "You brainwashed Tim. Just how long was he under your thrall?"
The Faux-Batman gave that nasty un-smile again, and everyone started connecting the dots. Now that they were wide awake and lucid, the aesthetics of the room were becoming more familiar to them. This was Neo-Wayne Tower — another project Tim had been working on to accommodate the every growing Wayne Enterprises.
Along with the new branch in Bludhaven, it was quickly determined that the old Wayne Tower was no longer large enough to house the ever-growing operations of the company and of the Wayne Foundation together. Already, several office buildings had been appropriated to remedy this problem. However, the lack of centralization was determined to be an impediment, so Tim had commissioned the building of another Wayne Tower in the city, one with a more futuristic aesthetic. The old Wayne Tower would serve as the headquarters for the Wayne Foundation, while Neo-Wayne Tower would serve as the new headquarters for Wayne Enterprises.
But it seemed now that Neo-Wayne Tower had been commissioned for a far more sinister purpose. When this was over, they would have the building looked over with a fine-tooth comb to figure out what, exactly, this Faux-Batman had hidden here.
"Brainwashing is such a harsh word. I prefer to think I manipulated him instead. A suggestion here, a word there — not that he knew it was me, of course. And it wasn't hard either. He's not really a part of the family anymore, is he?"
"The fuck he isn't!" Red Hood screamed, once again needing to be held back. "What the hell did you do to my little brother!?"
"I did nothing, Jason Todd. I simply helped him see the truth. Face it — he is no longer one of you. He and Stephanie Brown have long since broken up, his supposed friendships with Barbara Gordon, Luke Fox, and Duke Thomas are hardly existent, and even whatever familial feelings that remain between him and Alfred Pennyworth diminish as the old man edges closer to his death day by day."
"But that's nothing compared to his immediately family, is it? Bruce Wayne is dead, not that he ever really appreciated his most brilliant child. Damian Wayne has usurped him as the youngest child and is frequently at odds with him. You, Cassandra Cain, are hardly ever there when he actually needs you. Even you, Jason Todd, who claimed him as your favorite brother for initiating your return to the fold, are pulling away from him and towards the incompetent, happy-go-lucky fool that supposedly 'saved' you."
And here, the Faux-Batman leveled his glare at Batman, who suppressed a shiver threatening to run down his spine. There was something in that dark glower, something that touched him to the core of his soul. "And then there's you, Dick Grayson. The aforementioned fool. No one has failed Tim Drake more than you. How he loved you, idolized you, adored you. And how do you reciprocate such affection? You scorned him! You took away that what he valued the most, the mantle he had made his own with his sweat and blood and tears, and handed it off to the arrogant little brat that tried to kill him! And when you saw how much it hurt him, did you apologize? No! You left him to flounder on his own, refusing to speak to him for daring to believe your father was alive, and when he was proven right, did you apologize then? No, you left things as is, assuming all was right and dandy, and proved once and for all how little he meant to you!"
"That's not what happened!" Batman protested immediately. Yes, he hadn't treated Tim well during that time but that was because he was stressing himself out trying to keep the Family together. Just because he hadn't believed Tim at the time didn't mean he didn't want his little brother there.
"That's exactly what happened!" The Faux-Batman shouted back."Don't you dare try to deny it! You may be so self-assured in your perfection that you wouldn't dare believe yourself to be so cruel, but the rest of us can see right through you, once we bother to look hard enough. I, for one, am no longer so blinded — you have proven time and again how unfit you are for the mantle of Batman, and it is time for I to take the reins once again. All I have to do is eliminate all of you, and by the time the Justice League of this time figures out what I've done, it'll be too late!"
Cass scowled. "Then why not kill us already? Why this…game?"
The Faux-Batman smirked. "Truthfully, I thought it all to be entertaining. Luke Fox and Barbara Gordon, eliminated by the technology they vaunt so highly; Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas, struggling now to prove themselves by surviving a path of death; and of course, seeing Damian Wayne destroy his inheritance in order to defeat the brother he so wrongly usurped. I am sure that even if Tim breaks from influence, he would not so greatly regret the death of the boy who took so much from him."
"And us?" Red Hood asked, pure loathing in his tone. "What do you have planned for us?"
"Alas, nothing special for you Jason Todd, or you Cassandra Cain," he sounded genuinely apologetic, "A simple unending army of robots will be your execution. But as for you, Dick Grayson, I will allow only myself the pleasure of taking your life. I will allow you the chance to fight for it, out of what little respect I still have for you, but do not think that, for one moment, you will be leaving here alive."
And it was in that moment, that everything fell into place.
Batman didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to think, even for one moment, that this was real. That someone he loved so closely, so dearly, could turn into this bitter, self-absorbed monster. But the truth was undeniable, the clues all fitting together seamlessly, revealing a horrifying picture that he so desperately wished he could unsee.
"Oh?" The Faux-Batman tilted his head mockingly, "So you've figured out, haven't you, Dick Grayson? Go ahead and say it, World's Greatest Detective." No one could deny the sarcasm laden in his voice.
Batman pursed his lips. There was no going back.
"It really you, isn't it? I thought it wasn't possible, but…"
Red Hood and Cass both turned their gazes to him, confused. "B," Red Hood said cautiously, "who is he?"
Batman returned his gaze, and sighed.
"Tim."
I'm not sure I'm satisfied with this chapter, but I can't really think of another way for it to go. I'll just have to rewrite the other chapters so they're more interesting or something.
On another note, there was an incident in the comments of the last chapter in the AO3 version that I'd like to discuss. While I am not going to name anyone nor make an opinion on the subject matter, I would like to express my displeasure at everyone involved and insist that something like that doesn't happen. Ever. Again. If it does, I will have comments moderated from then out, but not before reporting the offenders. Understood? Good.
Next chapter: Tim.