#bad bat

Tim needed to do something.

Anything.

Anything but sit in front of the Bat-computer, staring.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Tim needed to do something. Now.

But he couldn't because blood was rushing in his ears and his mind was sluggish, a desperate attempt to protect himself as his world crashed around him not for the first time.

This time, he didn't, wouldn't, have Batman beside him.

Because Batman-

Because Bruce-

Tim stared and stared and stared and all the evidence stared back.

The face of Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake stared back.

Robin stared back.

And of course Tim's mind had already made the connection, had already completed the picture, had already matched it to reality and filled in the blank spaces he hadn't even been aware was there.

Oh, god.

Combined with his sickness that had him benched for the night and the sudden, shocking, knowledge that Batman had killed his parents, had killed Robin's parents, Tim staggered to his feet and off his seat, socks slipping on the cool cave floors as he stumbled towards the nearest bin and upended his dinner. And lunch and breakfast and the other dinner until he was left dry heaving and crying in the Batcave over the stink of his vomit.

Oh, god.

Tim needed to do something.

Tim needed to start thinking of what to do.

The action was easy, instinct, trained. Retrieving one of his Robin storage from his jacket, Tim scrambled back to the computer to fumble with sticking it in, copying the entire file and all the incriminating evidence.

Methodically, he returned it back to its previous encryption, erased the backdoor he made, and burned every hint that he'd even come anywhere close to the file. So very, very aware of the chill of the cave, cold fingers digging in his inside, and senses peaked for any presence in the cold, cold cavern.

Now what?

Tim stared at the black of the screen of the Bat-computer and missed the light.

Shock, he distantly thought. He was in shock.

Robin- Tim stared down at the gold chip in his hand. So tiny. So harmless. And now it contained everything that could make or break.... a lot of things. A lot of people.

Oh god. Where was he going to go?

Oh, god.

Did he want to go?

Because Batman-

Because Bruce-

Bruce is Tim's father. The only father he's left.

And-

And maybe he's wrong.

(Denial.)

Maybe someone was trying to frame Batman. To turn his own family against him and what kind of son was Tim if he let himself be fooled so easily.

This couldn't....

This couldn't be right.

Tim took a shaky inhale.

Shook his head.

But if it was right then his current train of thought was all wrong.

Tim....

Tim was always left with the hard decisions wasn't he?

This wouldn't be the first time and he had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be the last.

So with an exhale, Tim yanked himself into the backseat of his mind and let training and objectivity slide in the slot of the driver.

In Tim's hand was evidence that Bruce Wayne, his adoptive father, had orchestrated the death of Dick's, Jason's, and Tim's parents deaths.

And just putting those in words, even just in his mind, almost had him with the knee jerk reaction to crash his mind just to stop thinking about it.

Now Tim didn't know what to do but he, undoubtedly, had to do something. Anything.

Well, anything that hopefully wouldn't get him killed by the man he considered his father-

Bad Tim. Don't think about that. Not now.

Later.

Who was he supposed to go with this information?

Alfred?

..... Tim didn't know. Everything he knew about Alfred said that the man would've never condoned this if he knew.

But everything Tim had known about Batman said the same.

Tim was too scared to be wrong and maybe even more afraid to be right.

Oracle? No.

Babs was a badass but she was vulnerable to Batman. She might be able to help, distanced from the situation as she was, certainly would be able to make better decisions than Tim currently could, but Batman could get to her -and it was easier to think Batman than Bruce- and Tim didn't want anyone hurt, least of all her.

Wether this was real or not and regardless of the growing part of him that wanted to shut it all out.

Tim was running out of time.

His mind was working against him.

And wasn't that a chilling thought because suddenly the word brainwashing and reprogramming-

Not now, Tim.

The sound of footsteps, faint and purposeful, was like a shot through his chest.

Tim stuffed the stick in a skin coloured garter pocket wrapped around his calf.

"Master Timothy- My goodness, young man."

Oh yeah. He didn't just feel sick, he probably looked the whole shebang.

He turned and he was vaguely glad that he didn't need to fake a smile or what when Alfred crossed the distance between them with a pinched expression, because he really didn't think he could put up any expression other than shock. And that he could barely hold up as it slowly gave way to despair and- and just an amalgamation of emotions he couldn't start even naming much less dealing with.

Alfred rested a hand on his forehead, "Young man, how long have you been down here? It seems your cold has worsen. Hardly a surprise when you spend your time down in this damp basement."

Who was he supposed to go to?

Tim had only a handful of options.

Alfred, Barbara, and-

And Dick.

Oh, god, did Dick know?

He tilted to the right and Alfred caught him, lips pursed. Everything feels like it's trapped behind murky water.

"I think that's enough. Go up to your room now and rest, Master Timothy."

Dick would've warned him, right? If Dick had known, his big brother would've told him, right? He wouldn't have let this happen.

Dick was-

His big brother.

Dick wasn't his only brother. Wasn't the last option.

Jason.

Oh. It's weird to attach that label to that name.

Weird.

Not bad.

The older boy -man? he's never quite sure what to call them, neither word sounding right- never really acknowledge him as such, it was probably beyond presumptuous for Tim to think of him like that even in the quite of his mind, but....

Tim's head shot up, almost headbutting Alfred.

"You're right, Alfred. I'm- I'm going to go up."

He ignored how weak his voice sounded and moved away from the butler towards the manor, just barely managing not to break into a run.

Then he was breaking out into a run once he's out of sight, past the many rooms and halls of the Wayne manor, and throwing open the door of his room. Without a single pause, he picked up random semi-presentable garments off the floor and wiggled out of his pyjamas to put them on, digging around his closet for the black box containing his customised watch to strap on his wrist, and grabbing his skateboard, a sticky note, and a pen on his way out.

Tim slapped a 'do not disturb, sleeping' note on his door. Fifty-fifty that the warning would be heeded, every second would count.

Tim turned on the micro computer in his watch as he snuck out of the manor and past the grounds, using the shadows of the night and his innate predilection for stealth to his advantage.

~*~

A banging on the door had Jason grabbing a gun, Kori standing at attention, and Roy training an arrow at the window.

They were in one of his safe houses in Gotham, a short stop to pick up some supplies, patching each other up from their latest mission, before they're going straight back to the base.

No one should be knocking on this apartment.

Jason exchanged glances with the others and slowly approached the door-

"Please! Jason, I know you're in there! Please, please open up! Please, oh god, please open up!"

Robin.

He'd know that voice anywhere, practically his largest trigger for the Pit Madness-

He sounded desperate. In fact, if he was hearing right through the hardwood, the boy was practically sobbing.

Already knowing who it was, and feeling a trickle of worry in the back of his head despite himself, Jason sped up the rest of the way and pulled the door open to see Tim Drake in all his civilian teen glory. Pale, red rimmed eyes, and choking on his breath.

Out of his armor.

Defenceless in front of Jason.

Not Robin.

The boy didn't even wait for an invite, stumbling inside and grabbing the door out of his hands and slamming it close behind him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing kid?" Jason growled, letting all his menace fill the air.

Roy raised an eyebrow.

It was strange to see Jason being like this with a kid.

But Tim Drake was different.

No, not really. Jason was just a hypocrite who didn't do what he preach and wasn't actually all that better from those scums he put bullets in.

And Tim- Tim just stared.

So miserably it was the only thing keeping the green at bay from flaring as it usually did around his replacement.

That and the fact that, this time, if Jason was going to do something, he'd have to look Tim Drake in the eyes.

"Did- did you know?"

The question was so quiet he almost didn't catch it with his thoughts still swirling.

Jason blinked, "What."

And Tim sobbed, sliding down to the floor in a breakdown and Jason's mind blanked.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jason thought where was Dick?

(The last time he thought that, he was in a warehouse and a crowbar was falling on him.)

"I-" Hands came up to wipe at the tears in vain, "It was my fault. If I didn't- dad, and mom, they- and Bruce-"

Tim made some sort of keening sound and, yeah, he wasn't going to get anything out of the kid in his current state.

And Jason was hyperaware of his teammates behind him, waiting for his lead.

Jason dropped in a crouch barely an arms length away. The kid didn't even flinch, didn't make any indication that he was aware in how much danger he was currently in.

His cheeks were flushed and he was sweating in a way that had Jason suspecting that his temperature was higher than normal.

"Kid.... Tim...." it was a challenge to keep his voice at least not aggressive. The boy choked on another sob, blue eyes purple in the dim lighting as he looked at him, and oh, fuck, he was hyperventilating.

Jason needed him present.

And there was only one sure way he knew to do that.

"Robin. Calm down." He said in that exact same pitch he did.

But to Jason's confusion and actual rising concern, rather than freezing and gradually falling back to trained breathing, Tim paled -how that was even possible with how pale he already was, Jason didn't know- and reeled back in horror, chest stuttering.

Shit.

Jason watched him.

He shook his head, but at least his eyes seemed more present now, "Don't- don't call me that, please."

Well, if he hadn't already thought so before, now he knew with certainty that it was Bruce that got his Robin running towards his homicidal predecessor.

Go figure.

"Hey, kid. Tim. You need to calm down. Mainly, because you're not gonna get out whatever you came here to tell me or whatever, and partly because I ain't promising I'm not gonna get violent if you keep wasting my time."

.... It was exactly what he wanted to say, but as usual, something in him got a bit complicated. Not quite regret.

But closest he was probably going to get.

He felt that around Tim a lot.

Tim hiccupped, finally falling back on training to shove aside the hysteria. Then he pulled himself to his feet, eyes staying locked on Jason's and completely ignoring the two.

He presented him with something gold and Jason looked at it with a raised eyebrow as he straightened himself.

"I-" he cleared his throat, "I don't know- Just. Jason, you need to see this- no, I mean, you need to leave Gotham, immediately, and then read it. Everything. Don't- Don't come back until you do, please. That's-"

He ran his hand through his hair the second he was sure Jason wasn't going to drop the stick, looking torn between being as far away from it as he could and snatching it back.

He exhaled a gust, deflating, staring at the older boy morosely, sparing a glance at his friends.

"I don't know what to do, Jason. I- I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't think...... I don't want to think anymore, please. I'm sorry. I could be wrong, I'm probably wrong, I'm being stupid and just overreacting and- and I don't know what to do when I get back. I don't know if anyone else knows, if Alfred-" his voice hitched, "Or, Dick, or- or Superman, I just. I just don't know-"

Jason watched the teen practically break in front of him and in a split second decision, he telegraphed his actions.

And pulled Tim Drake into a hug.

"Calm down. Calm down. Breathe."

He didn't coo, and his voice wasn't designed to be soothing. It was almost a demand actually but it worked and Tim stopped babbling and after a few minutes of complete silence and Jason's hand awkwardly drawing circles on his back, their breathing were in sync.

"... Thank you." Tim said to his chest, and fuck, the kid was short and so fucking small how did he not bleed out-, "Thank you, Jason. I'm going to go- go home now."

And because, well, he didn't really know what else to do, Jason agreed and sent him out, letting him go back to the manor.

He'd regret that later.

~*~

Dick stared at his phone with a frown, worry churning in his gut.

3p.a.;bst¿!

Seemingly a random keyboard smash text from an unknown number, but was actually one of the many protocols of the contingencies his little brother absently rambled about during late nights hanging out, one of the many codes he'd memorized, not quite humoring Tim since anything was possible, but not one he'd ever worried about in their immediate future.

Batman was compromised and likely going after Dick for whatever reason.

And okay, yeah, Dick was concerned but not harried, since if it was really bad then another protocol would've been activated. Mind you, the Batman being compromised was truly something to be concerned about, but it seemed whatever was happening didn't pose the risk of Bruce dying.

That said, Batman was compromised and last Dick knew, Tim was with Batman.

And now Dick had no choice but to trust that Tim knew what he was doing and was somewhere safe for them to regroup.

Not that it stopped the familiar stone in his chest whenever he worried about his little brother -little brothers.

Dick grabbed his emergency pack and prepared to leave, for Nightwing to disappear while they fix this.

Day 3

I went a bit different with this one if you can tell. It fit more for the Majora’s Mask art style I guess? Idk it felt right. Majora’s Mask is my favorite game, and Captain Keeta is one of my favorite characters in it! Can’t go wrong with a giant skeleton. Also Ikana Graveyard has Stalchildren and ‘Bad Bats’ which are pretty spooky. Yeah not only did Majora’s Mask have Keese, but also a new bat enemy called ‘Bad Bat’ which is even more of a spooky Halloween bat than Keese are.