Chapter 27: The tragic fox in feathers
The jets of the black Batjet roared loudly as Bruce scanned the city again and again for his fugitive Robins. It had been an hour since the Bat had lost sight of them, and Clark and Diana had also lost track of Dick.
Irritated, Batman grumbled to himself.
How could they have gotten away from them! It was akin to disgrace that they had so easily played the Justice League for fools. Even if Dick's car was a decided surprise factor in this incident, it was still unacceptable and exposed the League as a ridiculous joke.
Straining, the bat rubbed the root of its nose.
So slowly Bruce considered making a vow to himself that Damian would be the last Robin.
Once past the age of 13, they eventually began to question, rebel and test the limits. In short, puberty was exhausting, and especially so for well-trained teenagers.
And when you then had to take care of Gotham, as well as the Justice League, the nerves were severely strained.
While Bruce, with his 39 years, wasn't really an old man yet, he still felt like he was getting too old for this to be easy to take care of.
Not thinking any further about it, Bruce then unlocked radio channel 3 and asked:
"Superman, what's your status?"
"Still no sign of the three. I think they're long gone."
Irritated, the Bat grumbled to himself before replying:
"Alright, we'll look for some more clues and call it a day."
"Roger that."
Again, he groaned. The idea of not taking in any more Robins was becoming more appealing.
But...
Bruce couldn't suppress an amused smirk.
He had to admit that he couldn't deny being a little proud of his sons. Not only had Damian managed to destroy the entire Batcave system, but they had also slipped through the Justice League's fingers. Moreover, it was remarkable what kind of machine Dick had built. Bruce knew that Richard had always had a talent for building all kinds of gadgets that gave him a decisive advantage in missions. But even the billionaire hadn't expected something like this. Who could not be a little proud?
Suddenly, a new radio message came through and Batman opened the channel:
"Bruce? Are you there?"
Selina's voice sounded slightly occupied from one of the many speakers and he answered:
"Yes, did something happen?"
"I ran into a little problem here. Can you come over?"
"I'll be right there."
Less than five minutes later, the black plane landed in front of a burning industrial hall, where the local fire department was already in the process of bringing the huge amount of flames under control. He saw Selina standing by one of the smaller side halls and covered the remaining distance on foot before asking the cat:
"What's the problem?"
Selina didn't answer right away, but at first just pointed behind her to the small side hall where growling sounds were coming from, and Bruce noticed a beastly stench wafting around his nose. With slight disgust in her voice and the back of her hand pressed in front of her own olfactory organ, she then said:
"Joker went really crazy. See for yourself."
Somewhat taken aback, the bat yanked open the rusty sliding door of the old hall and immediately the growl turned into a loud bark. His eyes grew wide as he caught sight of the four dogs before him, who seemed to be locked in some sort of fighting arena. All dressed in rags, which one actually only found in dog racing and each printed with a different sign. King, Queen, Jack and Ace. Whereby the first three lay dead on the ground, partly badly decomposed and eaten away. Only the Ace was still alive, but the disturbed hate-filled eyes of the German shepherd showed that he had long lost all trust in other creatures.
Selina stepped behind the bat and spoke:
"Joker must have locked them up here without even a crumb of food. He probably enjoyed seeing which of them would be the next meal. The surviving dog is deeply disturbed and will certainly be euthanized when the local authorities turn him over to the shelter. Joker broke him. He has learned to kill, after all."
Bruce considered for a moment before retrieving a small pistol from his belt and firing it at the animal. A startled yelp followed before the bedraggled German shepherd slumped and fell asleep just a few seconds later, silencing the barking and bringing quiet to the small hall.
"I'll take him with me. Even though I don't think we'll be able to socialize him again, he still deserves the try." *1
Bruce looked at the cat and noticed how pale her usually colorful face had become. Somewhat concerned, therefore, he inquired:
"Are you all right?"
"It's nothing. Urg...just a little upset stomach."
She pressed her hand to her mouth and seemed on the verge of vomiting.
"Unusual for you. Do you need a bat-bucket? I've got one in the jet if you need to throw up."
"What, Bat-Bucket?"
"It's a bucket...with a bat on it. So..."
Cat slapped her hand against her forehead, " I ended up in a madhouse." *2
She turned away saying, "I'll go get some fresh air then."
Bruce scratched his head a little sheepishly at first before climbing into the makeshift arena and carrying the sleeping dog with the ace on his clothes, out of his prison.
As he walked out to the jet along with the cat, he changed the subject to a rather unpleasant one:
"Say, where's that car you took?"
As if she was not aware of any guilt, Selina answered:
"I parked it in a street not far from here. Why do you ask?"
Slightly annoyed, Bruce grumbled:
"Well purely by chance Damian and Jason escaped in that very car. Quite a coincidence don't you think?"
The cat's eyes snapped open:
"No really?! That's really a big coincidence...you wouldn't happen to mind giving a little kitten a ride? Apparently I'm not very mobile right now."
Batman rolled his eyes:
"You can't fool me Selina. You gave them the car. Right?"
"Do you have proof of that?"
"Where are the keys?"
Briefly, her petite fingers slid over the many pockets of her outfit before she spoke in wonder:
"Well, I could have sworn I put them in here. I must have lost them. Clumsy me."
Bruce raised a brow:
"A master thief who loses something. Pretty unusual don't you think?"
"Well, when you're dating a billionaire you eventually start to not pay much attention to such things."
"You..."
Before the bat could rake further, Clark radioed in, and he gave his cat another quick look that said something like, 'This subject isn't over yet.
"Bruce? Bruce come in, please."
"What is it?"
"We...we found a body."
A little shaky, Tim sat alone in his room at Wayne Manor and couldn't help but keep staring at his phone. Should he call him?
It was one of those days when he just couldn't regain control of his own Negative Thoughts. He had so many pent-up self-doubts about himself and the guilt of past events seemed to crush him once again today. The trigger for this was a suicide attempt he witnessed on his night patrol. Tim had been able to stop the man and talk to him about his worries.
But what was a great help for the man, showed Tim once again how many common thoughts he had with such people.
He always told his comrades that everything was fine, to keep up appearances. But the fact was, nothing was fine at all. Tim knew it was getting worse and worse. The more missions failed, others didn't believe in him or he didn't live up to his own expectations, the more he didn't care what happened to his person on missions. He had lost so many important people in such a short time. Connor, Stephanie, his parents. Something like that left wounds that would never really heal and even if many envied him for his clever brain, it was exactly this brain that was doomed to live through the scenarios again and again and to find solutions that only made his failure worse.
He couldn't turn it off. Analyzing things was as natural to him as walking or breathing.
Even though the facade was professional as always fooling everyone, the core had a hard time dealing with everything.
Usually, he could always cheer himself up by telling himself that things would get better and that he was not alone or by giving himself fully in to his work. But sometimes that just wasn't enough. Then he just had to talk to someone.
Tim jumped over his shadow and picked out a very specific number. It was the person with whom he could always find a sympathetic ear on such days and confide in.
The teenager nibbled his fingernails a little uncertainly when all he heard at first was the familiar toot of the line. The longer it lasted, the worse the feelings welled up inside him and just when he thought no one would pick up, an astonished voice sounded:
"Hello?"
Relief spread through the teenager as his brother's warm voice answered and he replied:
"Hey Dick, it's Tim."
"Oh, hey Tim. How are you?"
"Um...am I interrupting by any chance?"
Tim heard a bag fall to the floor as Dick replied:
"No not at all. I just got home. So I've got time.
"But surely you're tired."
"Hey buddy, that's not a problem at all. I still have enough time to sleep and don't have to work tomorrow anyway. Besides, I'm not tired yet. So let's talk a little. I haven't heard from you in a while."
Tim's face brightened more and more as he talked further exuberantly with his big brother in the course of their conversation. It often gave him back the stability he needed and eased those many bad thoughts that constantly tried to swallow him up.
Dick simply had a talent for taking someone's mind off things and the ability to allow a closeness he couldn't otherwise find in his family.
What would he do without his big brother? *3
Tim awoke from his dream in a daze and was confronted with the pure blackness of his room. He briefly enjoyed the comfort of the bed in which the black-haired man lay. Tim kept forgetting how nice sleeping actually was and turned onto his side with relish while burying his face in the sheets like a little boy.
No annoying light, no ringing alarm clock, no disturbing orders...
...
...Wait a minute...
No annoying light, no ringing alarm clock, no disturbing orders?
Immediately, Tim pulled himself up and looked around.
Shit! What time was it anyway? It was so dark, and he wanted to meet Babara tonight to discuss a case. How had he even gotten to bed? Anyway, he had overslept. Him of all people!
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Tim wanted to reach for his cell phone, but it was not on the nightstand as usual. Only yawning emptiness.
He had probably left it at his computer again.
The teenager jumped up and was just taking his second step when he tripped over a piece of cloth and landed ungently on the carpeted floor of his bedroom:
"Arg...What the?! Computer, turn on the light."
The flooding white burned into Tim's eyes. Under blurred vision, he pursued the question of what had grabbed his legs and the answer showed up in the form of the clothes the black-haired man had worn yesterday.
Strange. Actually, Tim was always so fastidious that his clothes did not find their way to the floor even after the hardest nights. What had he done yesterday?
Anyway, now he had to put on his costume and hope that Babara wasn't waiting for hours already.
In no time, the stressed teen slipped into his skin-tight Kevlar suit, threw on the feather cape and pulled the black hood over his face before storming out of the room.
But the moment he yanked open the door to the living room, he found himself confronted not with night darkness, but with the glistening warm light of the evening sun shining softly through the large window facade. Immediately, the Red Robin paused and looked confusedly at a nearby wall clock.
5:48 p.m. That meant he had either overslept completely, or was still on time. Either way, it meant he didn't have to stress himself for now.
Tim sighed heavily, already wondering what had actually happened yesterday.
He had only had his head full of reports and cases. And after that?
Suddenly a sound reached his ears. Was that...snoring?
There was a short pause before the choppy sound rang out again and Tim was sure it was coming from the couch.
Without further ado, he approached the piece of furniture and peered over the backrest from behind.
"...rrrach...which fucker placed potatoes in my helmet..."
What Tim found initially drove surprise into his covered face before he really had to stifle the burgeoning laughter. There was a sleep-talking Jason Todd with a full Coke bottle in his hand, and a remote control over the center of his stomach, lying on his couch with a grace that rivaled that of a stereotype farmer. He probably hadn't managed to empty the bottle due to fatigue. Truly like the Red Hood he knew.
Tim decided to push the dream a little further:
"Hey Jason, it was the Rainbow Unicorn and it's fleeing on your motorcycle right now."
"...argh...men!...on the bikes...we'll get that glittery bastard...krrrraach..."
Amused, Tim chuckled to himself.
If the question of why the Outlaw was here in his apartment wasn't burning inside him, Tim would have certainly taken the time to make a video. This situation was gold, after all, and he hadn't even known that Jason talked in his sleep.
Nonetheless, he needed answers. So the long slender fingers of the computer genius slid to the sleeping face and in the next moment held the Outlaw's inviting nostrils together.
It didn't even took two seconds when Jason's brows drew together in annoyance and a hand swatted at Tim's arm as if trying to get rid of a pesky fly.
"Jason...hey, Jason!"
Confused, the blue eyes opened and stared perplexedly at his smirking counterpart:
"Timmy? What the hell?..."
"That's more like my line. Would you be so kind and explain to me why you're in my apartment?"
Several hours earlier:
"Yo Timbo!"
Red Hood's cheerful voice rang out as he caught sight of the teenager's familiar face behind the large windows of the storefront.
In fact, the outlaw was very happy to see the computer guy, since it meant that he finally didn't have to take care of the other two by himself anymore.
After all, a problem shared is a problem halved.
But he had just done the math without Tim's exhausted body, which even had coffee running out of its mouth. Only a moment later, the shock drove the cup he was holding onto the floor and not even a second later, his brain, overtaxed by fatigue, simply shut down, so that Jason's longed-for division of labor finally joined the broken cup on the carpet.
Now it was up to the Outlaw to be shocked. Confused, he began banging on the window:
"Tim? Hey Timmy! Earth to Timbo. You still alive?"
Damian found himself next to him, looking through the window as well:
"Congratulations Jason, you finally killed Drake. Told you he's useless."
"Oh shut up! You better figure out how we're going to get in there now."
"The balcony."
The outlaw waved it off:
"Yeah right, like he of all people left the door open."
A moment later they entered the spacious apartment through the unlocked balcony door and Damian cast a haughty glance in Jason's direction.
The latter's reply was an exasperated grumble:
"Pff, you know the saying fortune favors the foolish?"
The boy, however, only replied with a nasty grin and the words:
"Explains why you haven't bitten the dust a second time until now."
"Remind me not to save you next time until Joker has beaten some manners into you."
They promptly went to Tim and the Outlaw began testing responsiveness. Gently, he patted the unconscious man's cheek:
"Tim? Hey Tim! Can you hear me?"
But the latter was too far away to seem to register this effort.
Damian joined in and interjected gleefully:
"Do you want me to hit him? I'd be happy to smack him hard, so the idiot wakes up."
"Wha-? Nobody's getting punched here!"
"Taser?"
"No tasering either! Nothing like that!"
Jason took a closer look at Tim's face. He quickly spied how drained it appeared to be and, annoyed, the Outlaw wiped his hand across his face:
"This workaholic has overdone himself again. Those bags under his eyes are bigger than the Grand Canyon. He probably hasn't slept in at least two days and that's why he collapsed right away at the shock. He's so stupid sometimes!"
Dick, too, now joined the two and looked curiously at the stranger in front of him. Interested, his fingers wandered to the drained face and accidentally scratched Tim's cheek, leaving a small cut.
Immediately, Jason decisively slapped his hand away:
"Hey, no grabbing with those sharp things!"
Dick just tilted his head in confusion before trying again and being stopped once more with a slap on the hand.
"Get your hands off!"
Irritated, a chap raised his lip and Richard growled warningly at the Outlaw, causing Jason to sourly reach into his pocket and pull from it a pack of cigarettes.
Immediately, the half-bird's focus was on the attractive sticks and Jason tossed them behind him to distract Dick for now so he wouldn't keep messing with Tim.
Jason groaned in exasperation before Damian gave his opinion of the situation:
"Well, this is a favorable circumstance for us. With Drake out of commission anyway, we can tie him up easier now and avoid the risk of him ratting on us."
Resignedly, the Outlaw massaged his temples. These two were getting on his last nerve. Jason had hoped that with Tim's help he would finally be able to enjoy some peace and quiet again, but it didn't work out that way.
He briefly looked around and discovered a pink blanket on a couch not far away. Jason stood up wordlessly, went to it and threw the piece of cloth lovelessly in Damian's face before saying:
"Here, put this on. Then you won't make my jacket any dirtier than it already is. Because I hate washing out blood stains."
Damian just hissed in response, but did as he was told. Jason took the jacket from him again and briefly looked at the many red stains, which were mainly on the inside: "Man, I'm going to need a lot of baking soda again."
The kid pulled the dirty mask off his face and was wrapping the blanket around his damaged body when he cast a confused glance at the Outlaw.
Jason explained himself:
"Well to get the blood stains out. Cold water and baking soda really do wonders for that. But for a annoying little rich kid, of course, that's a useless info. After all, I don't suppose you've ever had to do your laundry."
Damian just rolled his eyes.
"I can make better use of my time." he finally replied, looking around the apartment.
Now…where had Drake hidden the handcuffs?
But before the boy could pursue that question further, Jason crouched in front of Tim again, pointing a finger at him as he spoke:
"Listen up. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to put our sleeping princess to bed now, and you're going to make sure that the turkey's getting done as well. And by that, I mean wash up and call it a night. Because you two look like you've robbed a slaughterhouse."
Jason lifted Tim from the floor and threw him not exactly gently over his broad shoulder. Damian acknowledged this with:
"Make sure he doesn't get away."
This kid really needed to get rid of all those sticks in his ass. But Jason wasn't up for another argument today.
His house was gone. His stuff too. He got almost killed by a demon. Got insulted by a car. Wasn't sure anyway if Batman wouldn't put him inside the next best prison from now on and the worst of all these things...
He still had that annoying brat stuck to his right butt cheek and that turkey, who regularly attacked him to get cigarettes, stuck to his left.
Jason wasn't in the mood anymore and said accordingly, played carefree:
"Don't worry. I'll take care of Timmy."
His main goal for now was to have finally some peace for today.
With that, the outlaw disappeared into the bedroom with his luggage, and Damian couldn't help but feel fooled
He had more than doubts that Jason would really tie up Tim.
Nevertheless, he was tired and wanted to go to bed.
So the boy grabbed his feathered friend and rushed him into the bathroom to finally get rid of the traces of their past fight.
Present time:
"Would you be so kind and to explain to me why you are in my apartment?"
Jason found himself confronted by the mischievously grinning face of the Red Robin. Instead of answering right away, the taller one yawned heartily before replying listlessly:
"Well, finally. You wouldn't believe how much I've longed for someone else to finally take care of the brat. That pain in the ass can really get on your nerves when you're alone with him."
Tim tilted his head in confusion:
"Brat?"
As if this had been a prompt, the door to the guest room opened behind him and a childish voice that the computer talent would have been all too happy not to have here rang out arrogantly:
"Where did that jerk...huh?...? So you didn't disarm him after all Todd? How inconvenient."
Tim's gaze wandered to the basement when he saw the diminutive figure of Damian Wayne standing there at the doorframe. Now he knew what Jason meant by brat.
The Outlaw sat up and replied:
"Didn't we agree on Jason, kid? Besides, I said I'd take care of him, but not in what way. Just so you know, normal people don't always tie everyone up right away."
Damian just hissed angrily and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Tim noticed the kid was wearing some of his old clothes, and the matter-of-factness with which the two cynical Robins were acting here in his apartment only confused him more:
"Would someone possibly be so kind as to explain to me why you two are here, respectively why Damian is standing in the kitchen with my clothes on, glowering at me like that?"
The boy hissed sourly and Jason leaned back into the couch cushions again as he listlessly explained:
"Our babybird over there had some stress with his Daddy because the turkey showed up and then had no better idea than to come to me. Then the Joker, the Justice League and some weird flab demon showed up after a week and chased us, burning my house down and because I was tired of waiting for Damian to find a solution, we're here now so you can solve the problem."
"Uhh...what?"
Tim raised a brow and was now even more confused than before. Was it actually possible to express himself in a more incomprehensible way? The analyst couldn't work with such scant information.
"Great Todd, when you describe it that way, of course everyone understands."
Damian snarled from the kitchen and Jason grumbled annoyed:
"Oh don't bother. I'm too tired for this shit."
Tim still understood nothing, until suddenly a growl sounded behind him. He turned, only to spy a feathered figure in the doorway to the guest room, eyeing him suspiciously on all fours. Tim couldn't see the pale face, which was hidden under bluish feathers.
Instead, Jason groaned in annoyance and sat up again, pointing his thumb at Red Robin to order:
"This one's not getting eaten. I still need him. So shut up you chicken nugget."
While hostility did stop, it was not due to Jason's command.
It was solely the fact that the creature became very curious at the sight of Tim.
The tail wagged violently as the winged one became aware of something, and in the next moment the blue feathers turned to a black and red that strongly resembled the Red Robin's costume in its arrangement.
Full of joy, he approached Tim and jumped around the teenager like a young playful dog, while cooing sounds left his throat. Tim kept backing away because he couldn't figure out what kind of situation this was.
Jason and Damian, meanwhile, watched the whole scene with amazement. This was the first time Dick had shown such behavior. In addition, there were no signs of hostility towards a stranger. Really weird.
Finally, the half-bird stood up on his long hind legs to meet Tim at eye level and stared at him, beaming with joy and expectation.
Hesitantly, Tim looked for answers from Jason:
"J-Jason? What is that thing?"
The Outlaw scratched his head thoughtfully as the penny dropped:
"Ah, I see now. He thinks you're a turkey, too, because of your costume!"
Without understanding, Tim checked again, but didn't dare break eye contact:
"Turkey? Can you be more specific?"
"Well, how do I tell you this now... You know Dick disappeared a year ago and...well..."
The feathers in front of the pale face folded back, revealing what had been hidden beneath them all along. Tim's eyes snapped open as he immediately realized who was standing there before him. How could he not? After all, he had admired and watched him since early childhood.
Mouth widened in disbelief, Tim shakily interrupted Jasons explanation just a second later:
"...well, that's..."
"Dick?!..."
Damian couldn't help but suppress an amused snort as the computer genius came up with the answer all by himself and remarked snootily directed at Jason:
"Maybe you should see an eye doctor Todd, if even Drake recognized him right away. I bet a nose bike like that would look good on your helmet."
"Oh shut up you strutting half-meter. You better concentrate on getting out of the toddler weight class." Jason grumbled sourly before describing the situation in more detail to Tim, who was still standing in front of Dick, unable to take any action:
"According to Damian, he showed up in an accident in Metropolis less than a month ago without any memories of his past or person. Right now he's acting more on the level of a wild animal. Bruce had kept him locked up because of this, as he is very dangerous and even almost killed Superman...WAIT! What the fuck are you doing!"
Jason didn't even get halfway through his remarks when Tim just lunged at Dick and not-so-gently engaged him in an involuntary hug.
But he just couldn't hold on.
He was alive. Dick was alive! The fact that he had become this thing, and all the other information Jason was about to explain to him, his brain just couldn't handle any additional processing in this situation. He was too caught up in the moment that he could hold his brother, who was thought dead, in his arms. The person who was one of the most important in his life, he had him again and without that he could hold back rudimentarily, his dams broke. Tim buried his face in the taller man's soft feathered chest and whimpered muffled tears:
"I...missed you so much..."
Jason, meanwhile, was just getting the creeps, fearing that Dick might see this action as some sort of attack. After all, the turkey had hurled him into the nearest wall the first time they met, and Dick wasn't too friendly at that time.
And Damian was just eager to see if the competition finally got eaten.
But strangely enough, nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Dick just stared in bewilderment at the appendage on his chest, which just soaked the soft feathers generously. His fingers wandered with interest between the individual strands of Tim's wing-like cape and began to play around with them. For Richard this was a very exciting moment, because he had never seen another creature that resembled him so much. He wanted to learn more about it and therefore explored with interest the different body parts that were so similar to his.
It made him...happy not to be the only one. *4
Damian was about to say something derogatory again, but the Outlaw's warning eyes prevented him from disturbing this moment of reunion. Jason knew how much Dick meant to Tim and as long as the turkey didn't get aggressive, he should quietly have his moment.
At one point, Richard began tugging at the Red Robin's hood. He sensed the confusion in his counterpart and wanted to encourage him with this gesture and clacking guttural sounds to trust him as well. In his language this covering of the head symbolized fear or aggression and a bared face showed peaceful intentions.
Tim, of course, did not understand this, but when he had regained his composure and wanted to wipe the tears from his eyes, he had to give up his covering anyway. So Dick's face brightened even further at the sight of the gesture that had come his way.
Still sniffling, Tim finally asked:
"Why is he like that?"
Jason stood up and joined them, while Dick again fiddled with the Red Robin's cape with interest:
"He's mutated into a demon. Contrary to Bruce's report, Dick didn't die back then, but managed to survive in the other dimension. I'm sure you're familiar with the files on the case. It was Trigon's blood that triggered his current condition, and I had hoped that with your help we could somehow reverse it. However..."
Jason cast a glum look at Richard, who was still tugging at the feather-like strands.
"...His chances are slim. So far, he hasn't shown any signs of remembering anything either. He's become a completely different person."
Jason explained the whole situation to the computer genius, while Damian just pretended to ignore them all and followed up some data on his computer bracelet. It pained him that he had accomplished literally nothing in all these weeks and now they were here. Nor could he deny that it somehow stung him a little that his former best partner accepted Tim so naturally. After all, with Damian, Dick had initially had no inhibitions about killing him. He had proven that very well.
In the end, the Outlaw ended his explanation by saying that it was imperative that they keep everything a secret, as Dick's situation would only further inflame tempers. However, Damian was now surprised by Tim's following outburst towards Jason:
"Why didn't you tell me before? Why do I only find out a month later that Dick is still alive!"
Defensively, he raised his hands:
"Hey, I've only known about it for a week, too. Besides, I promised Damian I'd give him time to figure it out, and if I'm being honest Tim..."
The Outlaw now became more serious in his tone and looked at the teenager:
"...by now I'm unsure if it was a good idea to involve you."
"WHAT?!"
"Tim, I had to scrape you off this floor just a few hours ago because you were overdoing it with your work again. I told you to call me when dealing with Bludhaven got too much for you, but you just don't do that! And I can already see it coming that I'll have to scrape you off the floor again in the next few days, because Dick's here now and then you just won't give yourself a break again until that jerk there finally stops shedding downs!"
Tim gritted his teeth as Jason pointed angrily at their carefree nemesis, and Damian marveled that the Outlaw had probably been offering to help Drake for some time. Apparently these two had more to do with each other than Jason would have him believe at first.
"You know yourself that you have enough to do Jason and Bludhaven was assigned to me back then! They are not cases that required the need for a second person. Merely raids and easy cases. I still don't understand much about what happened to Dick, but now I know he's alive and now I want to know the more specific dates. After all, you should have gathered some information by now."
Their conversation took on a new volume that made even Dick flinch. Confused about this situation, he slipped unnoticed to Damian behind the kitchen counter, while Jason was now really starting to get upset:
"Are you actually kidding me! Were you even listening to what I just said? You collapsed from exhaustion, haven't even eaten anything yet, and now you want to get right back to work?! You've got to be nuts!"
"It's my body Jason! So leave me alone with this kind of matter!"
Jason raised a finger in warning and growled menacingly at the teenager:
"Don't make me put you in chains after all!"
Wow...and here Damian actually thought he was going to tackle this computer lover first. Who would have thought Jason would be quicker on the uptake.
Suddenly the ringing of the front doorbell interrupted their heated argument and in wonderment Damian raised an eyebrow as the Outlaw asked:
"Is it normal around here, that the mail delivering happens to be so late?"
Tim pondered in confusion for a moment before realization hit him. Shocked, his hands intertwined in his black hair and horrified, he said:
"Shit! That's Barbara!"
Notes:
*1 Batman (2016) Annual #1
This is in modified form the background story of Ace. The German Shepherd was originally Joker's dog along with the others and had to kill them because Joker didn't feed the dogs.
*2 The Bat-Bucket is Canon.
b(￣▽￣)
*3 Robin (1993) #156
Tim came across a man who had just tried to kill himself and had a long talk with him, because he can understand the feelings of these people.
On the last page of the comic it´s turned to Dick, who is then called by Tim, because he wants to talk. You don't get anything about the conversation itself, but it ends with the original counseling hotline of America. I interpret this as Tim having some serious problems with himself.
*4 Briefly about Tim's costume:
The one in my story is a combination of two of his costumes in the comics. The version with the hood and the wing-like cape doesn't really exist. But it worked better in this situation.
Canon fact:
It's red and black, by the way, because he wants to commemorate Connor with it.