#zipkick

             ❝ i won’t be in gotham for long. ❞

𝕿here  were  moments  where  Terry’s  lack  of  training  in  a  group  really  came  to  a  head.  As  Batman  in  Neo-Gotham  he  was  pretty  much  just  solo,  picking  up  help  here  and  there  but  he  was  a  solo  run.     Mattie  had  been  officially  benched  from  the  Robin  position  after  a  few  nasty  run-ins  with  The  Joker  for  his  safety,  Batwoman  was  off  in  Bludhaven  helping  her  father.  So  where  did  that  leave  Terry?  Solo.  No  Bruce  in  his  ear.  No  Dana  or  Max,  and  even Beam  hadn’t  been  around  nearly  as  often  after  all  the  shit  went  down  with  Lumos  and  the  Court.  With  Terry  being  zapped  through  whatever  fuckass  portal  Chronos  had  created  it  left  him  with  a  group  of  people  hellbent  on  pretty  much  never  running  off  alone  if  it  could  be  helped.  Recently  he  had  been  slowly  acclimating  to  the  idea  of  running  through  patrol  in  pairs,  especially  since  this  city  lacked  a  Batman  of  its  own.  Or  it  did  anyways   …   another  odd  thing  to  think  about,  didn’t  quite  seem  possible.  In  his  own  timeline  Bruce  died  of  natural  causes,  old  age  and  the  heart  problems  he  accumulated  as  a  result  taking  him  out.  But  here?  He  never  got  a  straight  answer,  always  a  cryptic  little  puzzle  that  left  him  more  perplexed.  In  the  end  it  was  truly  whatever,  especially  right  now  when  he  really  needed  to  be  focusing  on  the  task  at  hand.  Something  hot  and  way  too  similar  to  some  fuck-ass  laser  had  shot  him  in  the  chest,  his  suit  managing  to  take  the  brunt  of  the  blow  but  still  sending  Terry  reeling.  His  back  had  smacked  into  a  far  wall,  concrete  cracking  from  the  impact  as  Tim  rattled  off  in  his  ear  about  the  warning  he  gave.    ❝  Okay  fine,  you  were  right  Robin.  Happy?  ❞     Terry  hissed  through  their  comms  line,  sharp  claws  digging  into  the  ground  as  he  quickly  took  cover. 

A  gigantic  laser  as  a  form  of  defense  had  not  been  expected  for  Terry  given  the  year,  but  Tim  had  warned  him.  Told  him  twice  that  the  defense  system  for  this  particular  compound  was  aggressive.  Had  Terry  listened?  Well   …   he  certainly  heard  the  words  that  came  out  of  the  man's  mouth,  but  that  didn’t  mean  he  absorbed  them  all  that  much.  However  he  really  should  start  taking  shit  more  seriously  if  there’s  going  to  be  a  damn  heat  seeking laser  that  will  shoot  at  him  the  second  he  comes  into  line  of  sight.    ❝  Can  we  calculate  how  long  it  takes  to  charge  up  before  shooting?  If  one  of  us  can  distract  the  thing  we  can  shut  it  off  and  get  to  the  door.  ❞     The  translation  was  basically I  will  be  bait  and  jump  in  front  of  the  big  angry  gun  since  my  suit  can  take  it  if  you  can  figure  the  rest  out.  They  hadn’t  known  one  another  long,  maybe  just  a  few  months  at  the  absolute  most,  but  Terry  would  be  lying  to  himself  if  he  didn’t  admit  that  Tim  was  probably  one  of  the  smartest  men  he’s  ever  met.  The  kid  was  quick  witted,  beyond  sharp  and  incredibly  fast  on  his  feet.  He  thought  twelve  moves  ahead  constantly   ⸻   and  reminded  Terry  so  much  of  the  Batman  of  his  era.  Of  the  Bruce  Wayne  that  had  seen  anything  and  everything,  knowing  how  things  were  seemingly  going  to  end  before  they  even  began.  It  was  just  as  terrifying  as  it  was  impressive.  As  Terry  slides  to  a  stop  behind  an  upturned  piece  of  concrete  he  presses  his  back  against  the  cool  stone,  a  hand  brushing  off  some  soot  from  the  front  of  his  suit.  His  head  tilted  a  bit  to  peer  ever  so  slightly  around  the  edge,  the  specs  behind  his  mask  zooming  in  to  anything  that  might  remotely  look  like  a  panel. 

It  takes  a  moment,  but  his  eyes  widen  when  he  finally  spots  it.    ❝  There’s  a  metal  sheet,  maybe  eight  by  fourteen,  bottom  right  hand  side  if  you’re  facing  the  bitch   ⸻   that  might  be  it.  ❞     Truly  there’s  no  way  to  know  for  sure,  but  hey   …   where  would  the  fun  be  in  knowing  the  answer  immediately  anyways? 

one particular sore spot when it came to protecting was watching parts of that same city crumble between gloved fingers. present to provide a clean sweep or investigate any malice or not; witnessing beloved every day locations turn into dust never failed to place a wedge in his heart. especially when it came to spots no one else really knew about; they always seemed to have the best of the best regardless of traction.

she's vaguely aware of the fact that her sword is trembling, her roughened palm squeezing the pommel of the weapon tightly. it's the adrenaline, she tells herself. she's in survival mode still, and coming down from the high. 

trying to regulate her breathing, cassie takes in her surroundings. the roof she's hovering over looks like a fucked up finger-painting, the only parts not covered in violence are where she and tim had been standing. speaking of tim... cassie took the brunt of the viscera, but tim isn't much better. she watches as he nudges a lump of flesh off the ledge before looking up at her. cassie's moved without thinking, closer to him than before.

    ❝     sorry, thought i would've taken it all.     ❞    

her voice is raspier than she expected as she gestures to their general area. the innuendo isn't lost on her. it's the adrenaline, she repeats. except this adrenaline feels different; this feels very much i'm about to do something dumb and stay up all night thinking about it afterwards. cassie can't meet his eyes, but she also can't not look at him. there is something alluring about her best friend after a battle and covered in blood.

⸺GODS, she's a weirdo, isn't she? her best friend kicks ass, and she wants to make out with him because he kicks ass.

    ❝     sorry.     ❞    

it's all she can say before she takes him by the back of his neck and crushes their mouths together. there is no cliff to be jumped, no great risk to be taken; it feels like coming home after a long day. she looks like a fucking wreck (let's be honest, though, when doesn't she?) and she's clumsy in her kiss. cassie knows the general idea of kissing, having watched a ton of romcoms with cissie and greta, and she's doing terrible oh aphrodite help her!

the panic sets in, replacing the adrenaline, as cassie very much realizes that she may have fucked up her relationship with tim. (and she couldn't even give him a good kiss while doing it? embarrassing.) she pulls away, expression doing its best impression of a deer right before it's hit by a car.

    ❝     i gotta go. i can hear my mom calling me.     ❞

and with that, she's gone, leaving tim to handle the aftermath.

❝ you son of a — ❞ the curse word part of that sentence is cut off by his back hitting the wall abruptly, knocking the breath out of Bart .

his lips pull into a frown, but his eyes are transfixed . a bit MIFFED that as always, Tim managed to wrestle control from him despite his resistance . Bart’s smart mouth turned training into scrapping, egging the other on until he DID something about it .

❝ you can’t just say no, i’m your favorite brother! ❞