12. Headcase
Zippers held the world together at seams that were once invisible but now laid bare like a corpse being given an autopsy, the entire cave was flowing out of his feet like skin being sloughed off, the whole world was turning and the axis rested on his eyes. Tim could feel the floor without touching it, he could feel the cotton of his shirt after touching it, hell, his skin became cotton.
He fell through the floor and came out through the ceiling and back through the floor and again and again he did this and each world he fell through was stacked on top of the other and there was a world where his father had a boomerang in his heart and a world where his girlfriend had a power drill in her stomach and his friends were dead, he was dead, everyone was dead dead dead and nothing would ever be alive again, nothing could grow anymore, heaven was a barren wasteland and hell was the weeds springing up to fill it.
And beyond the weeds as tall as cornstalks was a macrocosm, the larger world that had been there all along but Tim hadn't seen it because he'd been asleep. The machine was spinning and the whole of his dimension was just a cell in this giant rolodex. Everything he had ever loved or hated or feared in the world, everything he had worked for or against never was, it never mattered, it was merely a delusion created to show him how fragile life could be. No wonder God had kept it a secret since humanity's birth. It was as sweet as honey on the lips but made his gut rot until it burst and no one could save him now, not his father or Steph or Dick or Bruce or Kon or Bart or himself…
When Tim woke up, his heart was pounding in his ear, his tongue felt three sizes too big for his mouth, and his lips were cracked and parched.
"Wha… where am I?"
The atmosphere was dark, tribal drumbeats drowning out his heart. The only illumination came from flickering torches. Tim looked around. He was bound to a pole, hands behind his back, stripped naked. Beside him, his father sat in a business suit, jacket off, tie loose. Jack's face was beaded with sweat, his eyes clouded.
"Dad? Dad, say something. What are we doing here?"
"What are we doing here?" Jack turned to face him. "Tim… we're home."
Tim's brow furrowed with confusion. "What are you talking about? What is this place?"
"Your birthplace."
That's when Tim's mother was dragged out. His real mother.
"Mom!" Tim's relief was palpable. Surely, surely his mother would make it all better, his mother meant the nightmare was over. Then he got a good look at her.
Janet was dressed in business attire like Jack, her clothes tattered and torn, her blouse ripped open to reveal a bra with one shoulder strap slashed off. The men were manhandling her, leering at her, chanting something in a dark tongue. Their skin was pitch black, all of their bodies were black, even their eyes and teeth. Tim could make out the blood red of their lips and gums standing out in the dim light.
"Hey! Hey! Let her go!" Tim strained at his bonds. His hands were behind his back and he couldn't get any leverage.
Tim knew what happened next. He had seen it in his nightmares countless times.
The Obeah Man's knife was sharp and glimmered like a diamond in the dark.
"Dad, you've got to untie me! Dad! You've got to untie me, I can stop this!"
"Can't untie you…" Jack moaned. "You'll get hurt. Can't lose you too. Can't let you join your mother. Can't let her have you."
The knife cut into Janet's forehead and the blood streamed down her brow, turning her face into a scarlet mask.
"Dad, do something! Dad!"
"I can't, son…" Jack reached down and pulled up his pant legs. His feet were desiccated, skin sticking to bone. "They crippled me."
The knife traced over Janet's lips, the blood staining her teeth red.
"Hey, hey!" Tim called out to the Obeah Man. "Look at me, look at me! Let's talk! C'mon, five minutes! Five minutes. Let's just talk for five minutes. Can I have five minutes? The gods can wait five minutes, right?"
Jack's cheeks were hollowing out, his face becoming cadaverous as if being ravaged by cancer. "Where were you, Tim? With Wayne? I knew you never wanted me as a father, but why did your mother deserve to die?"
"That's not true!" Tim shouted at his father and turned back to the Obeah Man, who's attention he seemed to have caught. "C'mon, let's talk. What do you want? You've got to want something, right? I can get it for you. Whatever it is, I can get it for you. Just… let my parents go and let's do business, alright? C'mon. You don't need to hurt her. We can figure this thing out. C'mon, let's work together on this, alright? Put our heads together, you and me, we can think of a way out of this without anyone having to get hurt."
"Why didn't Wayne stop this?" Jack wondered aloofly, as if not noticing the struggle unfolding before him.
Tim ignored him. "You want money? I can get you money. You want power? I can get you power. Just tell me what you want? It's all about you, you have all the power. But see, a powerful man doesn't need to prove he's powerful. Killing someone, that's the act of a weakling. You don't have to do this. You have all the power, what have you got to prove? C'mon, put down the knife. Put down the knife."
"He could've done something. He saved me. Maybe it was long-term planning. Dick was motivated by the loss of his parents, just like Wayne, and they both turned out okay. But Jason, Jason didn't have that edge and looked out he ended up. If you were going to be Robin, you needed that edge."
"Just put down the knife and we'll work something out. Just put it down. You don't need it. You don't want to hurt anyone. We can still salvage this. You want people to respect your cause, they won't do that if you're a killer. You've shown how powerful you are, now show the world you can be merciful."
"He couldn't deny you a chance at happiness, but he couldn't let you become Robin without understanding his pain. You thought you chose this? He forced you into it. First he let you discover who he was, then he molded you, brainwashed you. Turned you into an instrument of his vengeance. You're not a man, you're a boy wonder, you're his pawn."
"Please… don't kill her… please… please…"
The knife fell and there was so.
Much.
Blood.
The leather restraints kept Tim from moving as the scanner ran over him. It was built from Rann and Kryptonian technology, unable to be duplicated by Earth science. Batman and Nightwing watched as green light washed over the boy.
"His brain chemistry has been fundamentally and irrevocably altered," Batman pronounced. "Increased heart rate, adrenaline, pulse… he's locked in some sort of fugue state, like an acid trip. But his body can't sustain this 'high' forever. He will go into cardiac arrest and he will die. And there's nothing we can do about it."
"Maybe it's better if he doesn't wake up. I know I'd want to sleep rather than find out what happened to Steph if she had been my…" Dick gritted his teeth and shook his head. "There must be something! Anti-psychotic meds…"
"Introducing a prescription drug to his body could kill him even faster! To help him, we'd have to reset his brain somehow, and that's impossible without killing him." Batman paused, considering. "So that's just what we'll do."
"What?"
"We'll kill him and bring him back."
Batman strode quickly to the chemical laboratory, typing formulas into the computer and waiting for them to be brought to him. "Do you have any idea how risky that is? Stopping his heart could…"
"That won't be necessary. All we need to bring about is brain death, a complete cessation of neural activity. That can be accomplished in deep anesthesia."
"Why Tim and Steph? Why not you or me or Huntress?" Nightwing asked in a small voice as he set up an IV line.
"I don't know. There's no reason behind it. No connection between them and his previous victims. No connection between any of his victims. It's just… senseless."
Nightwing looked at Tim and very quickly realized he couldn't bear to watch him die. "It could be he's going after Robins. I'll try and find Red Hood, warn him…"
Batman looked up. "If he is going after Robins, you're a target. Be careful."
"Believe me, I'm the last person this guy wants to find."
13. Le Petit Morte
The way was shut and Tim couldn't get through. The seams of the world clashed like teeth grinding together, pulling up and down and threatening to make the world come undone.
"Still with us, kiddo?" Black Mask asked, slapping Tim to full wakefulness.
Tim blinked the weariness out of his eyes. His arms were still bound behind his back and he felt worse than before. Every inch of his skin ached. "Who… who are you? What is this?"
Black Mask spread his arms wide. "You conked out on us, boy wonder. Bought your little girlfriend a brief respite, but anticipation is overrated. So let's get to work."
The Black Mask's scalpel was sharp and glimmered like a diamond in the dark.
Tim shook his head. "This isn't real. None of this is real."
"Just keep telling yourself that. And you might wanna pass the message along to her." Black Mask's footsteps stopped next to a table. Spoiler was tied down on it, her mask sliced open.
"Tim, help me! Don't let him get me!"
"Steph! Steph!"
Black Mask pinched Stephanie's cheek. "Awww, ain't she a sweetheart?" He pulled back her hood and peeled off her mask, revealing a shock of blonde hair. Setting the scalpel down by her cheek, he picked up a pair of scissors. "The hair's a little much though. You think she'd look better as a brunette?"
He snipped off a lock of hair, which fluttered to the ground.
"She doesn't have anything to do with this!" Tim yelled. "Let her go! Take me instead!"
"Oh, Timmy. I thought none of this was real! Which means I can't kill you, right? So no, I think I'll stay with her."
A larger chunk of hair hit the floor.
"Look, don't do anything you'll regret! Batman will come looking for us!"
"Oh dear! Not Batman! Anything but Batman." Black Mask's smile was, appropriately enough, a rictus. "None of this is real, remember? Batman's a myth, an urban legend."
Steph's earlobe fell to the ground. Steph's screams were shrill and piercing.
"You're dead, you son of a bitch! You hear me! You're a fucking dead man! I'm gonna fucking kill you!"
The bonds were so damn strong, they must have been chains or something…
Steph whimpered as Black Mask walked back over to Tim. "You don't want me to hurt her? You want me to stop?"
Tim nodded. "Yes. I'll do anything."
"Well, since you asked so nicely…" Black Mask picked up a gun. "I'm going to give you a choice. I keep her alive and in… exquisite agony… or you tell me to kill her."
Tim absorbed the information, disbelieving. He shook his head slowly, than with rising vigor. "No, no. I won't do it!"
Black Mask shoved the gun into his waistband and picked up the scalpel, driving it into Steph's shoulder and jamming it back and forth. Steph screamed until she was hoarse. "It's your choice, Tim! You can end this any time you want! All you have to do is let her die."
Tim tasted the salt of his tears leaking down his face. "Please… you can't ask me to…"
"Stop crying, you sniveling little robin! You can save her! But you have to make a decision! Let the pain continue or tell me to end it! Your choice!"
Steph looked at Tim through an eye that was nearly swollen shut. "Please, Tim. Please, don't let him hurt me anymore…"
"I can't!" Tim sobbed. "I can't! I can't! I can't!"
"Alright then, alright then, that's fine!" Black Mask picked up a power drill. "That's just fine by me! I'll keep her alive for months, Tim! And you'll watch every second of it! I'll make you watch her die bit by bit! You little shit, it's because of you! You're letting this happen to her!"
The power drill's whine was shrill and deadly. Black Mask held the tip so close to her eye that if she blinked she could feel it. "I'm gonna leave her one of her eyes, Tim! Just one! And every night I'm gonna make her look in a mirror and see what you've done to her."
He revved the drill again and Steph shut her eyes tight…
"Alright!"
Black Mask turned, pulling the drill away. "What?"
Tim couldn't stop the tears running down his cheeks, couldn't keep the terror out of his voice, couldn't keep strong, even for Steph. "Do it. Just… don't hurt her anymore."
The gun glimmered like a diamond in the dark. Black Mask slowly ran the barrel through Steph's hair. "I want you to say it. I want you to beg for me to kill her."
The words tasted like sweat and blood. "Please. Please kill her."
The explosion was deafening.
Batman watched as Tim's EKG lowered and lowered.
"Fight it, Tim," he said under his breath. "You can beat this."
Tim silently wept. He wept until he had no more tears to shed and he kept weeping anyway. And then he heard the sound of footsteps coming towards them. He looked up to see Steph. Her costumes clinging to her like a gown, much too large on her skeletal form. Through the holes in it he could see broken bones and dry blood. Her walk was lopsided, broken, and every step made a horrid grinding noise that Tim couldn't bear to try to figure out.
"How could you let me die, Tim?"
Tim shook his head. "Please… don't do this… stop this… please…"
She knelt down beside him. The mask was tight around the contours of her face, like pantyhose. He could see her face through it, the head wound in vivid detail, blood-soaked hair poking out through holes in the mask.
"You love me, don't you? I want you, Tim. I want you inside me." Her hand slipped down between her legs. She moaned and it came up with blood. "I want you so bad, Tim. Make me a woman, Tim. Make me a Robin."
Then her hands were cold against his groin, so cold it burned and he felt her fingers wrapping around his cock and moving up and down in short gulps.
"Please, don't…" Tim begged. "Don't do this, please, I don't want this, I don't…"
"Kiss me, Tim. I need you so bad. I need your warmth. God, I love you so much…"
She pulled up her mask and her mouth lolled open and her head moved down to encompass him.
"You wouldn't do this," Tim insisted. "This isn't you. You're not real." The only warmth in her was the blood and he could feel that on her lips. "None of this is real. This is a lie! Steph's not in here! She's out there! She's out there!"
And the zippers ripped clean, the seams burst, and Tim didn't care, he maintained his center. This was a lie, whatever it showed him was a lie, and everything he loved was out there, waiting for him to come back, Steph was waiting for him, everything was going to be just great again as long as he just concentrated, concentrated, concentrated
The weeds sprung up again but this time Tim was ready. He stayed centered as they ran through the wasteland and over him and became him and still he did not lose his focus. The machine howled and spun and told him he was meaningless, that he was nothing, less than nothing, a miniscule speck on a miniscule speck on a miniscule speck and still Tim remained focused. The machine promised him secrets, the machine promised him answers, the machine promised him his mother and riches and power and love and Tim ignored it.
Steph was waiting for him.
Tim's eyes dilated. Above him, the ceiling was moving, but it was just the bats.
He sat up and Alfred was quick to undo the restraints on his wrists. Catching his breath, feeling his heart crawl out of his throat and back down into his chest, he rubbed his wrists where the skin was chafed raw. Tim stared at his fingers flexing as the others gathered around him.
"Where's Steph?"