#dark tim

Tim grit his teeth as he watched one of his past classmates shove the boy Bruce had replaced him with hard into a locker. He wasn’t sure if the kid couldn’t dodge it because of his size and his newess to training or if he was trying to do as Bruce always adivsed and not draw attention to himself by fighting back. 

The whole thing set fury in Tim’s blood that ran icy cold. 

“My young detective,” Ra’s voice purred in his ear, “You shouldn’t loiter so near the street rat. You don’t want your mentor catching wind of you so early in the game.”

“He won’t,” Tim promised cooly, “The worst that will happen is someone will notice that the school is being watched. Perhaps that will teach Bruce to be less careless with the lives of the young boys he takes in.”

“Hmm, if you think the boy is truly in danger from the likes of those low lives then the Detective has grown more foolish than I had realized,” Ra’s scoffed. 

Tim watched another several assholes surround Jason and start up jeering comments about the boy’s background and past… employment activities. 

Why Bruce thought it was a good idea to replace Tim with a kid already traumatized by violence and working the streets, Tim had no idea. Tim might hate the kid for replacing him, but no one deserved the type of harassment Bruce was forcing the kid to endure by not letting him fight back. 

“Your grandson is one of Robin’s biggest supporters these days,” Tim hummed, ignoring the uncomfortable twist to his stomach. Damian had always hated him, his bitterness over Bruce replacing him with someone ‘unworthy’ as Tim never letting up until the day Tim was killed. 

“Which is why you are to be my successor, young detective,” Ra’s said cooly. 

“Which means I have to do better than either of them,” agreed Tim, putting down the binoculars he was holding. 

If Tim still went to that school- he should have been a junior this year, he thought bitterly- no one would have dared to have launched the scale of harassment against a freshmen. Much less, Tim’s ‘little bother’. 

Tim’s lip curled slightly. He’d learned many lessons from Bruce and Damian’s failures, but one was definitely to not underestimate the usefulness of small acts of mercy and compassion. Before the end of the day, anyone at the school who had dared to harass the boy would pay. 

Jason should not be left to fend for himself, even if he was Robin. Damian loved the boy the way he never loved Tim, and it was no coincidence that Tim’s first act against them would be to take Robin away from him. A fitting punishment, and one that would benefit Jason in ways he couldn’t even dream of. 

And then, when they were scrambling and blaming each other, Tim would strike and take back Gotham for the people. 

It is that altered information that the League is only aware of because when they infiltrate some of the crime families to learn about the system, the plan never goes according to plan. Despite Talia’s strong suspicion of that bird, Ra’s has enough of losing good assassins for some measly system along with the unwanted attention of the Detective again that he orders them back. Talia is supposed to concentrate on their newest project that she put at risk because of Batman being too close for their liking now. (Talia does as she is told despite her dislike as she forms her new, little soldier through manipulation and honey-covered lies she whispers into his ears. With hundreds of years of knowledge, she knows just how to use pawns when it involves the pit.)

Jason and Tim’s first meeting

Like in canon because of the Red Hood’s appearance in Gotham, Tim is forced to leave for Florida and prohibited from leaving the Tower for an unknown amount of time. Tim does not mind that he is essentially skipping school for that time, however, he does mind that he was totally caught off-guard by the Waynes and as he was rushed through the Zeta tube he was unprepared. With the Waynes being unaware of his nature (granted that is on him 100% and isn’t it what he wanted) there is not enough time to take a lot with himself, which includes the much-needed packages of blood he regularly consumes to stay sane and, you know, alive. 

It isn’t much of a rebellion when he tries to escape out of the tower and much more of a healthy desire to live. Tim might not seem like it with his unhealthy tendencies, but he does have a stronger will to survive than a wet paperback. But as predicted with someone like Batman, the safety measures prove themselves to be fruitful and even Barbara does not want to help him out, instead reinforcing the system. It is completely unreasonable and overkill in Tim’s eyes when heroes from the Justice League show up when he does end up getting out by a sheer miracle. Finally meeting the Green Lantern he loved ever since he was small (Tim is in denial that he still is) isn’t worth it though with the follow-up lectures, but the worst ones are when Superman - who is practically like an uncle to the Waynes - shows up and gives him that disappointed puppy look. Even when the man isn’t his uncle because Tim is not a Wayne by any means, it has a deadly effect on him. And then come the messages from Dick that make Tim feel so guilty that he lets go of his stubbornness for once and plays obedient soldier. 

(Tim watched with rising panic as he depletes the little amount of blood resources that he had and a familiar feeling of hunger settles in him. Being alone and hungry was a familiar friend, if you could call it that, for Tim. But Tim had gotten so used to a different reality -although it was still slow going as both Bruce and Tim himself were hesitant- that it was now something that he dreaded.)

With very poor timing it is when Tim is at his worst that the Red Hood breaks into the Tower and comes across Tim. Not Robin, but Tim the monster. A boy that he heard a lot about through Talia and yet that boy before him then wasn’t quite as helpless and weak as he has been told. He had a familiar edge in his smile, in the way that his eyes seemed to stare straight into his soul and how he didn’t hesitate to grasp a knife as a weapon. (Robin was supposed to be the comfort, the sneaky surprise that struck when you least expect it. Not deadly dangerous. That wasn’t Jason or Tim, they were familiar with the darkness and didn’t hesitate to use it. They were a different kind.) None of that mattered to the Red Hood in that moment however. The pit hummed in satisfaction to have an evenly matched target that could keep up with its strength, though technique wise they were far different. The pit drowned out how similiar the two were, the pit only made the Red Hood see green and so incredibly angry. 

The Red Hood wasn’t the only one who was filled with an unexplainable surge of power, however. Tim fought viciously against the larger man who could count himself lucky with the helmet, because otherwise, Tim would have already ripped his throat open. He made do with the knife in his hand instead of his Bo-staff and he managed to hurt the Red Hood more than once, although none of the wounds are fatal enough to halter the man in his steps. Angry at that, the Red Hood managed to push Tim down the stairs where he crumbled into a mess along with his weapon when bones snapped. Groaning and cursing Tim was ready to get up again when he was shoved back down and the Red Hood took off the helmet. 

Jason Todd, his hero, his dead Robin stood before Tim. Not so dead after all. 

The reveal was a greater shock than when Jason leaned closer and spat a choice of words at the replacement. The pretender. The cuckoo that snuck into a nest he wasn’t supposed to have when he had his own family. Nevermind that it was a poor excuse of one. But Jason didn’t know anything about the truth. How could he? He didn’t know that he lost his mother long before she died of person. Didn’t know that the comatose state of his father was a mercy in disguise. Didn’t know that the Waynes didn’t even truly want him. Jason was angry at Tim and regardless of the explanations that he tried, the older didn’t want to listen to him any longer. 

As such, the slitting of his throat came quick like the strike of a viper. Jason didn’t care as Tim bleed out then and there. He left his message for the Bats and left without even sparing Tim another glance. That hurt more than it should have and it took Tim longer than he wanted to call back the logical part of his brain. Like, how he was in danger of dying. He activated his emergency beacon and hoped that Bruce and Dick would soon come, but Tim knew that his survival rate wasn’t great. (Vampires weren’t immortal despite popular belief in pop media. He had seen it with his mother after all. Vampires turned grey in a way no human could and not long after they would turn to ash. There was a reason that the Drakes were apparently always burned and not put in coffins.) Tim did not wish to die, so he did the only logical conclusion. Crawling to the knife that was kicked aside by Jason, he took the weapon in his slippery hands and prayed that all the blood on it was more from Jason than his own. His own would have proven to be useless. With probably not much time left, Tim licked the blood off from the knife even when it made his poor throat scream in more pain.

However, that was nothing compared to the following. Tim had never tasted such awful blood like then. It was rotten and slid down his throat like sludge, he needed to fight against the urge to throw it back up again. Forcefully he kept his mouth shut even when the heat set in. The usual healing effect of blood was cool and numbing to his body, but this blood scorched from his insides and decidedly did not start healing the wound. Being a naturally cold creature, the heat was nearly unbearable to endure. At first, Tim thought he misjudged and that he would die that die, but then he did realize that there was somewhat of an effect. While it didn’t heal the wound, it stopped the blood flow enough that he could outlive the attack. 

Later on Bruce, Alfred and Dick would wonder how Tim survived. They were thankful beyond belief, but there had been so much blood and Tim lied so cold and still that Dick fully expected to have lost another younger brother when he didn’t have the chance to protect him, again. Tim did not want to talk about that day, barely even spoke which was at first explained by the injury but later on put on as trauma. Tim would end up disclosing who the Red Hood was, but beyond that there was not a thing he explained. 

Batman was all about punishing the bad guys, but he never truly committed to the cause of it. He called himself the justice of Gotham, the vengeance that the people needed, and yet he never truly stops them. He is too soft in Tim’s eyes. 

This is why Tim finds himself standing face-to-face with a bunch of asshole goons. Alone even though he shouldn’t be on solo patrols yet, what the bats didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Batman thought that Tim seriously went home already? To that cold mansion where the silence persists at all times? Safe to say that Tim prefers working in the shadows instead. That belief of Batman makes the man incredibly naive. 

(It hurts less than the alternative of the man knowing, but not caring enough about Tim to make him stop. Tim always cared too much about those that didn’t feel the same way about him and he only realized that when he was dropped by them. So far Batman didn’t so Tim hoped desperately that for once someone could start caring about him the same way.)

“Look at that boys! A little birdy dropped in on us.” The front and biggest man grinned and that earned laughter from his fellow comrades. 

Tim’s eyes went past the four men to the little blonde girl that was held down by another one of them. He had only stopped when Tim intercepted. It was a sickening feeling that began bubbling up in Tim as he took in the disgusting men and what they were about to do, could still do because Tim has yet to free her. Gritting his teeth he can feel the sharp fangs start to dig into his own lips and the taste of blood rushes through his mouth. That is when the familiar greed to get more, to still his hunger, comes over him. Batman should be far away enough by now. Hurriedly Tim glances around to make sure that neither cameras are in the alleyway they are currently in. Satisfied when he spies none of them, Tim retracts his Bo-staff and gets into a fighting stance. 

“You underestimate us if you think you can beat us with those thin arms of yours, Robin! Where is your daddy bats, huh?!” Spats another one of them. 

Of course, that is a true statement when one looks at his physique. Watching as the men spout more poor jokes, he tilts his head to the side much like a curious bird would do. None of them know yet of the danger that will befall them any moment as the eyes behind the mask slowly change to an unsettling dark void. Tim was always more slender, small, and light to the point even Agent A doubted he could put on muscles or grow in size. When the old butler looked at Tim it was as if he was looking at someone else. The pained expression said it all and Tim knew that he was just an awful reminder of a boy that was forever gone. Tim was used to those looks ever since his parents presented him to high society and they wondered if he would even live long. As a result, Tim learned to live off of spite as he began to hate looks of pity just because the human eye was too shallow to see beyond. 

They saw him as a weak human, not anyone but his parents being aware that he couldn’t be any less human. 

He was quite literally the monster. And right now, alone in this alleyway with the goons and a girl that will forget because she’s in too much of a shock, Tim feels like being a monster again instead of being Robin. 

“You are wrong,” Tim states, which makes the goons snarl at him in return and throw swear words at him he isn’t impressed by. “You are underestimating me.” 

It all happens so fast from that point on. The goons pull out their weapons, guns and knives respectively, in their anger and that is what makes them predictable. Tim flashes his bloody teeth at them while the moonlight reflects off of his fangs and lets out an incredibly chilling, hollow laugh that is so unlike the cheery laughter he normally has as Robin. 

But right now he isn’t Robin after all. Being the monster, not acting on the morals of Batman, that is when Tim is the most comfortable. Sadly for them, that also just brings greater danger to them. 

The men are taken by surprise as they stumble back and that is all Tim needs. Flexing his jaw, Tim launches at them. They hardly have a chance to scream as his fangs and hands that sharpened to claws rip at their flesh. Blood splatters against the walls and their cries for help are drowned out by gurgling until they fall silent. One by one he stalks them like a predator, unforgiving just like they had been towards the girl. (Tim would like to say he does it for justice. He is a liar.) Any attacks of them are in the end meaningless as the wounds heal again when the sweet elixir of life for Tim runs down his throat. 

He is exhilarated, the best kind of drug for his kind making him ecstatic. 

- - - -

Only one of the men gets to live long enough to run and spread the word that Robin is dangerous and slaughtered them all. Of course, none of them believed the man. Along with a certain blonde girl that saw more than she was supposed to, but unlike the man she was smarter and held on to the secret. It is Robin, after all, not even Rogues would assume that a child would be capable of such a massacre. 

But then over time, more bodies pile up along with the initial survivor and a warning to them all. Robin would always be close by and show a seemingly sweet smile and act innocent next to Batman and Nightwing, but whenever neither of them was close the teeth behind it were sharp on occasion and the voice was cold whenever directed at them. 

None ever disclosed the older vigilantes about their little Robin that hid in the shadows and held a dangerous edge to himself. They believed that the two were turning a blind eye to the young one (wrong) or that Robin was talented enough to hide it from the two and was barely kept on the good side because the bats had a tight leash on him (right). 

Nobody ever dared to voice out loud that they were thankful the feral child –if one could call him that– was not killing all of them. The underworld of Rogues began fearing Robin to an unreasonable amount and began working on a ‘feral Robin safety measures’ warning system in secret because of his unpredictable behavior. They began to fear for their lives when the boy got more regular solo patrols or even later on when none of the other bats were in Gotham. It was a red alert and not even one breakout would happen then. The bats would always wonder about it and make quips, unaware of the truth.