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Tim was smug. The older boy in front of him knew he was smug, which annoyed him, and so Tim was even more smug. It was a cycle. One Tim enjoyed very much.
Did he mention he was feeling smug?
“Do you not have ears Pretender? I don’t need any help. Especially from you.” He may have still had his helmet on, but Tim knew he was glaring underneath. Like a kitten caught by the scruff of his neck.
“So you don’t need help getting out of that trap?” He leant back against the wall of the tunnel behind him, arms crossed, “And you didn’t need help on this case from the start? This case that I specifically told you I was already working on? That we could have worked together on? That’s what you don’t need help with? Hm. Interesting.”
With a sigh, Red Hood finally stopped inspecting the unbelievably complicated chains surrounding his feet and ankles, a situation identical to one that Tim himself had been caught in just two weeks prior following this exact lead. He’d had to call Cass to come and help him but Jason doesn’t need to know that. That’s what he gets for ignoring Tim from the start.
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Not when I’m right. You should know this by now Hood.”
He grumbled what was most likely insults under his breath, but Tim wasn’t close enough to actually make out the specifics. Probably for the best.
When it was obvious that he still couldn’t get out of the chains and Tim had finally started to get bored of watching the older boy struggle he moved forward and made quick work of the weird lock by sliding four of the ten keyholes on the lock itself together and then picking that.
“What the fuck? I was going to figure that out myself y’know.”
Tim offered a hand out, surprised when Jason actually took the assistance, “I know Alfred taught you better than that - a thank you would suffice.”
“In your weird little stalker dreams, Red.”
He may have had his cowl on but Jason must have pictured his raised eyebrow, “Ugh fine! Thanks for getting me out of something I most definitely had figured out. How was that?”
Tim let out a slight laugh, “I mean it could be better, but from you I’ll take it.”
“Whatever.” He leant down to inspect the chains that had contained him just moments prior, “So how the fuck do these fit into the killings in our territories?”
It had started in just his own territory - a few mysterious deaths where people were dying from total organ failure with no conclusive reasoning how. The majority of the victims had been drug users, and once the constantly overworked, and oftentimes corrupt, GCPD had discovered that bit of information, they had concluded the victims had all overdosed on some new potent drug without looking further. Happy to no longer have this case hanging over them.
This had been in Tim’s territory though - he knew some of these people, and he knew that Mr Rubio, the fifth victim to be discovered, whilst once had relied on drugs in his youth, had gotten married and become one of the community leaders at the church on the corner of 5th. He helped addicts, and anyone else who needed to come in from the cold, even just for a night. He would not have fallen off the wagon, not like this.
So. Tim had investigated.
Each of the victims had a singular fresh needle mark in the base of their spine, far away from where drug users would usually shoot up, but this had initially been missed amidst the large bruising spread over the skin from the organ failure. He was still unsure on what they had been injected with due to the apparent speed it left the body and the tox screens performed by the medical examiner not being thorough enough. But he was positive that they had become trapped by chains like the ones Jason had just found himself in and then taken somewhere else before they died. It had been over a month now since he first started investigating and he had made no progress. It was infuriating.
And then bodies had started turning up in Crime Alley.
Jason didn’t usually let the rest of the Bats know what he was up to, he liked pretending he was not part of the family after all, but Tim had caught on after a few run-ins where their leads overlapped that Jason also knew something was suspicious about it all. So he had decided working together could be what he needed to finally make some progress. At least now Jason might finally be getting on board with that plan.
“Red? Hey, idiot, do you have an answer?” Jason asked impatiently.
“Well there’s a release mechanism that has them trap you if you don’t know what you’re looking for - so I assume this how our killer is kidnapping their victims without having to be nearby-“
“Yeah I got that much,” he interrupted, “I thought you were meant to be the smart Robin.”
He took a deep breath, ignoring the jab from the older boy, “Well the chains are coated in some sort of calming sedative that works through skin absorption, so we at least know why none of our victims had signs of struggling against restraints,” he sighed as he turned to face the other boy, “but honestly Hood, smart Robin or not, I’m struggling on this one. I can’t find any sign of the victims being moved, not from where they were initially trapped, and not to the dump sites. There’s no other calling cards just those fucking chains that keep appearing wherever I investigate.”
“And those?” Hood pointed at the markings on the wall nearby - green lines and dots drawn out in a pattern Tim had yet to make sense of.
“They only appear at some of the trap sites, and its not morse code, or any other code on our systems,” he sighed, running his hands over his face, “honestly they might not even be related if they’re not at every site, I just refuse to leave out the possibility.”
“Well,” Jason sighed, “green shit and its all ridiculously complicated, is this Riddler?”
Tim huffed out a breath, “It better not be, he’s one of the few rogues we managed to get back into Arkham after the breakout the other month and usually he refuses to actually trust his goons to actually lay his traps - besides, he loves his stupid godforsaken question marks so we would have seen one by now.”
“Hm I guess. I still don’t like it though,” Jason dropped the chains unceremoniously on the ground, “lets just get out of here, there’s nothing else to look at and I’m sick of being underground.”
The walk back towards the tunnel entrance was silent, both deep in thought.
Tim didn’t even notice Jason come to an abrupt stop until a gloved hand grabbed his arm.
“Did you hear that?” He whispered, taking one of his guns out of their holster.
Tim went rigid and followed Jason’s lead by pulling his compact bo into his hand as he listened to the emptiness surrounding them.
“…Help!” It was quiet, but that was definitely a shout echoing through the tunnel.
“Which direction?” Tim asked.
“Back the way we came from,” Jason said as he grabbed Tim again to stop him from running off, “this has gotta be a trap, right?”
“Without a doubt. But hey, we might learn something.”
Their steps were light as they ran back down the tunnel, the shout for help getting louder with every metre they covered.
They passed the trap Jason had been caught in beforehand, barely giving it a second glance before coming to a stop at a junction between two tunnels.
Tim looked at the tunnels in confusion, briefly tapping Jason to catch his attention, “These weren’t here before.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I mean there were not two fucking paths when I was last here. I mean on the city maps, this should literally be a dead end and it was two weeks ago.”
“Maybe you didn’t look hard enough, huh, Red?” Jason jeered, but with the way his finger twitched near his gun trigger, he was just as creeped out as Tim was.
“Stop being a piece of shit and listen to me. There. Was. Nothing. Here.”
Jason whirled towards him, anger reflected in his tense shoulders, “Fine! It wasn’t here, I believe you. But it’s here now. So unless you wanna go ask the city planners if they’ve done any work down here in the past few weeks, we need to figure out which fucking tunnel we’re taking alright?”
Shit. Jason was right. Which was not something Tim ever really wanted to admit. He was losing his focus a little, and panicking over the situation was certainly not going to help matters. He was supposed to be one of the most level-headed Bats, especially in comparison to a certain older ex-crime lord stood next to him. This case was clearly getting to him more than he realised.
But as disturbing as this development was, at least it was actually something new, some way he could get new information - even if it was a trap.
Tim nodded at Jason, and begun studying the junction to see if there was any indication on which direction the shouting was coming from.
Not even 30 seconds had passed before a shout of “Help me! Please!” clearly echoed out of the tunnel on the right. The two vigilantes shared a brief look before slowly edging their way towards the pleas.The tunnel eventually opened out into a large, yet empty, room, the green markings Tim had seen at some of the crime scenes, and others he had not - perhaps from some of the locations he had yet to find? - clearly displayed all over the dirt walls.
There was a clear rush of static in his ears before silence filled his ears, indicating the room had some sort of signal blocker that had cut out his comms, which he really should have expected when the room and situation practically screamed ‘trap’, but he pushed the panic down for a little longer.
“Help me! Plea-“ A gunshot cut off the voice, Hood standing over the now smoking remains of a speaker in the middle of the floor.
The red helmet of his (sometimes) older brother stared at him, no emotions other than wariness visible in the lines of his body.
Before Tim even think of a plan of action, an explosion rocked the cavern.
A huge dust cloud blinded him, something hard hitting his head as well, but he had done enough training to easily manoeuvre his way to Jason without sight, even with the aftershocks still seemingly moving the ground beneath him.
He gripped onto the familiar leather jacket, positioning himself at his back so even with their current disadvantages they would be able to effectively defend themselves. It took him a few moments to register that the older boy was not covering him as they had been trained to do, instead, even with the noise in his ears, he could hear the too quick breaths of someone having a panic attack. Fuck.
“Hey! Hood!” He moved to face him, grip hard on the other’s shoulders, “Hood! You need to breathe. Wherever your mind is, you are not there. I promise you’re not there. C’mon Hood, breathe in for four, hold for seven, then out for eight.”
Relief flowed through him as he began following his breathing. He may not be completely back in his own head yet but it was enough for Tim to put more focus on his surroundings now the worst of it was over.
The explosion had clearly been localised to the doorway they had entered through, that Tim had been stood near, as the doorway was no more. Instead a pile of dirt and rubble now stood in their way out of the room.
So - Tim was now trapped with his somewhat violent older brother underground with no obvious way out. Fantastic.
Said older boy was now crouched over, gun forgotten on the floor, as he went through his breathing exercises.
Tim’s steps were careful in his approach, not wanting to accidentally set him off and get punched, or worse, for his efforts. It wasn’t often any of them saw Jason so clearly display his weaknesses - they all knew of course that the circumstances of his death, and his resurrection, still caused him to lose himself in his head a little, but usually he was aware enough to get away from them and panic without an audience, much to the distress of both Dick and Bruce. But this time he had nowhere to go, and his audience was Tim himself.
He’s positive neither of them wanted to be in this position. Hell, when Jason’s like this Tim might actually be one of his triggers as well, but hopefully they’ve come far enough from that whole mess that that isn’t the case.
“Hood? You back with me?” He asked carefully, refusing to stand much closer to him until he was sure.
“Fuck off Pretender, I’m not some wild animal.”
Oh good, Tim thought, he’s fine.
“Right, well if you’re so fine and dandy you can help me figure out how to get out of here then.”
His only response was the creak of leather gloves as he was flipped off, but that was good enough so Tim moved to one of the walls with the markings on, hoping the now fully revealed puzzle helped him make sense of it all.
He took pictures as he went using a tiny portable camera he’d integrated into his suit, the images then clearly loading on his wrist device. A relief, as it indicated that at least some of his tech still worked even if his comms were not included in that list.
Jason came up behind him, done sniffing around the rest of the room, “Please tell me your freaky little brain has got something because there’s fuck all else here - no indication there’s another way out.”
“I-“ he sighed, annoyed with himself, “I don’t know. I’ve got more data now with these new markings but I still can’t figure out a code where it would make something even close to comprehensible English.”
“Well, could it be something other than words? Like numbers?”
Tim shook his head, “I don’t think so. I mean there’s no evidence to correlate the markings to specific numbers unless I’ve missed something obvious.”
“Shit okay.” Jason clenched his hands, clearly still unhappy with their underground predicament, “Not words, not numbers…what about an image?”
An image? That could…
Holy shit.
Because of his more standoffish nature and method of shooting first asking questions later, Tim sometimes forgot that Jason was his predecessor, and that all Robins were trained detectives.
Holy fucking shit.
He stared at the images on his wrist device, quickly moving the pictures around and fighting his settings to get them all to overlap.
“Wait no, we’d be able to tell if there was an image. Fuck. I got nothing else.” Jason was talking to him, but Tim didn’t care, he almost had it, “…Red?”
Tim stared at the completed image in what was between shock, resignation and fear. This was bad. This was very bad.
“Red? You good?” Jason asked, briefly tapping his shoulder.
“Um…” he trailed off, not sure what his reaction will be, “you were right. It was a- a composite image.”
When he didn’t divulge any more details, Jason grabbed his wrist angling the image towards himself and Tim could tell when it registered just whose calling card it was when Jason’s grip tightened enough for Tim to wince.
“The Joker?!” He turned and punched the wall behind them, “Of fucking course. Batman should’ve let me kill him when I got the chance but no he got away and has been fucking killing people. Again.”
He turned to Tim when he said this last part, and shit Tim forgot what it was like to be on the wrong side of the older boy’s anger. It hadn’t been great when they lost track of the Joker in the last Arkham breakout - in fact Jason had barely spoken to the Bats since it happened, holding them accountable for letting the deranged clown escape. And hell, Tim didn’t exactly blame him. Personally he would rather people not be killed in their quest for a safer city, but when it came to Joker and some of the more disturbing criminals, the ones who enjoyed hurting others, Tim could accept that turning a blind eye to Jason’s more murderous habits might be the only acceptable way to continue saving lives sometimes. Obviously, Bruce did not share that attitude and Tim would always be adamant that Batman must never kill, ever, (it was why Tim became Robin after all, Batman needed someone to stop him from taking that step) but it was still what led them to this awful, shitty situation. So much death. Tim had seen so many innocent people dead in this investigation. And of course it was all for one of Joker’s games, he couldn’t believe he never considered it. Stupid.
“Agreed,” he tried to keep his voice level, hoping Jason would calm down a little from ‘murder everyone in sight’ to ‘just murder the thugs that may or may not appear now we’re in this trap’, “but we can’t focus on that right now. We need to find a way out.”
“I’ve already looked, Preten-“
His argument was cut short by hysteric laughter filling the room they were trapped in.
Tim expanded his bo staff, whirling around to check his surroundings, but no one was there. Jason had gone stock still beside him, memories and panic once again claiming him as his breaths quickened. He wished he could help him, but right now there was nothing Tim could do, not when he needed to make sure they both got out of this alive, so he simply hoped Jason could pull himself out of it if a fight came to them.
“My, my my!” The Joker’s voice filled the room, presumably from speakers that neither Tim nor Jason had managed to find.
“Looks like I’ve got two little birdies in a cage! I wonder what we should do, hm?”
He didn’t answer and instead kept his head on a swivel, looking for the next part of the trap. There was always more to a trap when Joker was involved. He had made too many mistakes in this investigation, not even considering the clown because it was too convoluted for his usual monstrosities the biggest of them all. He would not make any more. Him and Jason were going to get out of this, he had to make sure of it.
“You’re no fun! Birdies are meant to sing after all! But if you won’t play, let’s just ask the audience!”
Whimpers echoed through the speakers, the same voice they had followed down the tunnel earlier, “Help me! Please, I’m b- begging you.”
Fuck. It hadn’t been a recording, it was fucking live. He wasn’t sure this situation could get any worse but he should’ve expected it - of course he would have a hostage as well.
“That’s enough Joker. Let the civilian go.” He said, projecting confidence into his voice.
More laughter pierced his ears, “I don’t think so! Have you never been to the fair? You still have so much more fun to experience before winning the prize Red Robin.”
“We won’t play your games Joker. Let them go.”
A hissing noise could be heard to his right, and his heart dropped at the purple gas slowly leaking out of the markings on the walls. There must’ve been a hidden mechanism he missed. So much for not making any more mistakes. Shit. This was not good - Jason at least had a helmet that could filter out certain toxins, but Tim didn’t. And whatever this was, it didn’t have the appearance of the usual joker gas so he didn’t even have an antidote to counteract whatever it was.
Well. If the plan was to knock them out, which was seeming more likely with the more Joker’s laughs echo around the room and the previous evidence that all the victims were killed at a secondary location only after they had been captured, then there should be a way out. Jason must have simply missed it. Or, more likely, it could only be opened from the outside which, whilst not impossible, was going to be hard to find with Jason still not particularly present.
With no better option on how to proceed, he started on the wall closest to him, scanning the dirt with one of the devices that worked similar to a metal detector from his belt. Hopefully if there was a mechanism that revealed a door, it would register it. If not…well he didn’t want to think about that.
It didn’t take long for the gas to fill the room enough that Tim couldn’t avoid breathing some of it in by the time he had scanned all of the walls, including the one collapsed from the explosion, and still hadn’t found a way out. He didn’t know what to do. Whatever had blocked his and Jason’s comms had also interfered with the emergency beacon he had tried to send out. It was unlikely that Joker would kill them just yet, he already said there was more fun to experience after all, but Tim wanted out. For him and Jason. But he wasn’t good enough to figure out how to get out of this trap and he didn’t know what to do.
Trying to suppress his mounting panic, he made his way over to the older vigilante, gripping his arm to get his attention despite the risks of Jason lashing out. Luckily no knife was pressed to his throat this time, and the other boy leaned his body towards him, indicating he was listening.
“I- I’m sorry Hood,” he started, the gas that was most definitely a sedative finally starting to take hold despite his lower number of breaths and training, “I couldn’t figure a way out…”
He took a shaky breath, struggling to stand upright now, “I’ll get us out of the next place. You won’t get hurt by him again. I promise.”
He was not going to fail his brother or his family. They would not survive losing Jason again. He’d make sure they got out. No matter what.
That was one of the last coherent thoughts he had before quickly losing balance and Jason having to step in and place him on the floor whilst his own breaths quickened again, some of the gas getting into his air despite the filters in his helmet.
The last thing Tim registered whilst Jason worriedly called his name was the eerily flat section of the cavern ceiling 30 feet above him, about the size of a manhole cover. Fuck, he thought as unconsciousness claimed him, how did he miss that.
-----
He woke up slowly, his head groggy from whatever he had been drugged with. He didn’t want to reveal he was awake just yet to whoever his captor was so he observed his surroundings with his other senses. The cold metal of chains restricted his whole body, seeping into his skin even through the suit, his arms pinned to his side, and legs tied together, and something tight on his neck. The solid mass he was bound to was likely a pillar or a large metal pole, which along with the way the chains holding him rattled against each other with every breath he took echoed, implied he was in a large open space, likely a warehouse, because of course it would be. A mental inventory on his suit and the hidden weapons that he instinctively knew the feel of from years of working as a vigilante revealed that whoever had captured him had completely searched his suit and removed all his back up weapons, even the back up bo staff in his suit, and throwing discs hidden in the lining of his spine. Okay, not great, but maybe he could still find a way out of this. There was a tang of blood in the air, and something almost chemical like that burned the inside of his nose as he took a breath in. Whimpering to the far left of him broke him out of his speculation, someone was hurt then, whoever it was would be a priority once he got out of this. He could not hear many others, only the slow breathing of someone he recognised opposite him…and someone else. Someone who was humming under their breath as they placed something metal on more metal - a table probably.
Wait.
The chains.
The cavern.
Joker.
It all came rushing back as he remembered willingly walking into a trap with Jason on their investigation.
Hindsight really was a bitch.
He may have wanted answers desperately, but next time - if there was a next time - he would at least let someone know what he was doing before his comms were cut out.
Focus, he reminded himself. Right now he couldn’t obsess over his many recent mistakes and failings as a detective, he promised Jason they would get out and there was still a captured civilian in play as well. He took some measure of comfort from knowing Bruce would figure out something was wrong soon enough, if he hadn’t already, as, even though Tim had no idea how long he had been unconscious patrol had likely been over for hours by now, and there were mandatory check ins for everybody since the recent Arkham breakout. Whilst Tim or Jason were the likely suspects for not remembering to check in (Tim) or purposefully provoking Bruce by ignoring the order (Jason), the both of them not checking in would be cause for concern for the rest of the Bats. So, they would be looking for them, but with how difficult this case had proven to be, and the fact that was a ridiculously unreasonable number of abandoned warehouses they could currently be held in, Tim refused to rely on them showing up to save them. Bruce got there too late for Jason last time, that was not allowed to happen again. Not on his watch.
From past experience with the Joker, both his own and all the case files he had read of the other’s run-ins with the clown, he assumed that Red Hood was tied up in the same manner as him directly opposite, as even in his cloudy mind he had recognised the older boy’s breathing. And of course the games Joker liked to play when he had more than one Bat at his disposal. The whimpering was obviously from the civilian Joker had first used to trap them, although the directionality of the noise showed they were lower than Tim, likely on the floor, and with the absence of chains rattling, perhaps not even bound. But this was the Joker, so it was practically impossible they were not incapacitated somehow.
The chains were clearly the chains that they had already experienced, but without any skin contact, he should be able to stay unaffected by it. He wouldn’t know where the lock for the chains binding him was located until he opened his eyes and gave up on the pretence of unconsciousness, but if it was in anyway close to the centre of his body, he should be able to dislocate a few joints in his arms and shoulders to get to it if that was what it took. But this couldn’t even be considered until the situation advanced.
It would be stupid not to assume that the Joker would be torturing someone soon enough, and whilst Tim hoped it was him simply to spare Jason or the civilian any extra suffering, it would make escaping just that bit more difficult.
…Or perhaps easier, if he decides the torture should be up close and personal. Yes. Tim could work with that if it came to it.
Well, he thought to himself, bracing for whatever was awaiting him in this situation, no time like the present.
He twitched his arm in a calculated move, a show to the Joker and whoever else was possibly lurking in the shadows that he missed in his initial assessment, that he was close to ‘waking up’. He wanted the attention on him, not Jason or the civilian, and there was only so much he could deduce with his eyes closed, so it was time to enter the Joker’s game.
The humming stopped almost immediately, the Joker’s steps light as he came to stand before him. A hand gripped his chin, painful and surprising enough that Tim almost forgot to continue his act.
“Wakey wakey Red Robin. I know you can hear me.” God, he was close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his cheek, “The early bird catches the worm you know.”
He twitched again, but still did not open his eyes, he wanted Joker to believe his lie that he was only waking now, that he hadn’t been able to gather his thoughts and begin planning for multiple eventualities.
His face was struck hard enough that he tasted blood.
“It’s time to play my game Birdy, stop being such a staff in the mud.” He cackled at his play on words, finally stepping back towards the table.
With the pale face no longer in front of his own, he slowly opened his eyes. He had been right about the warehouse, and that Jason was still passed out in his own bindings, helmet somehow off, but at least his domino was still on. A dark collar caught his eye as he looked at the older boy, it matched his own observation of the metal he had felt restricting his neck and his heart sank. The one thing this Joker plot had been missing was a bomb. Of fucking course. The situation truly kept going from bad to worse so why not bring in bomb collars as well? Fuck.
He couldn’t afford to spiral right now though, not as his eyes flicked to the civilian, also sporting a horrible piece of metal on their neck. They were not someone he recognised, so maybe they were from Crime Alley? There was no sign of bleeding or injury but they were certainly in pain from something, their zip-tied hands were shaking and tears stained their cheeks. God, he hoped they hadn’t already been injected with what the other victims had, that meant he was too late. Again.
Pushing down the self flagellation for a little longer, he quickly observed the chains holding him. He could not see the lock anywhere, but at least when he moved to test how much give there was, he was very pleased to find he could move his arms a few inches back and forth from their current position. He could work with that.
The gaudy purple suit of the Joker reentered his vision.
“Have you liked the games I set birdy?” He asked, using the crowbar (shit. shit. shit! This situation actually got worse somehow, god he hopes Jason stays passed out a little longer) to caress his exposed cheek, “Not my usual style I know, not enough laughter to be tasteful, but I didn’t need you running to Batsy for support. His do-gooder attitude always ruins my fun.”
He sighed in mock disappoint before turning his grin back to Tim, “No, this time I wanted to play with the only two interesting birds of the flock - the Cuckoo and the Zombie.”
Fuck. It had been common knowledge for at least a year that Red Hood was the second Robin to most of Gotham, but Joker had not escaped Arkham in that time so they had wrongfully assumed the Rogue hadn’t heard the information. Another mistake added to the list.
A gloved hand gripped his face again, forcing him to look into the pale face of the clown, “What’s this? Bat got your tongue?”
“Get to the point Joker, I don’t have all day.” He snarked, holding in the wince when the grip changed to a hard slap that had Tim’s ears ringing.
“Now, now, that’s no way to speak to me is it? We wouldn’t want me to get angry and rush into hurting your predecessor would we?”
Joker took a step away from him, letting out a small chuckle at whatever panic he saw in the visible parts of Tim’s face, but the relief of the clown no longer in his space was short-lived as he watched the psychotic man start walking towards Jason, the screech of the crowbar dragging across the floor behind him piercing his ears as it went.
Before he could even open his mouth to protest, the Joker swung the metal across Jason’s exposed face, violently waking him up with a shout.
Tim pulled at his restraints as much as he was physically able as the older boy coughed up blood from the hit, stomach dropping as he spotted the exact moment Jason remembered the situation they were in, his face going blank with terror, noticeable even with the domino on, and entire body tensing in anticipation of another hit. But even with the training ingrained in them for these situations, Tim could see the shakes encompassing his body, the fear present in his slightly more quicker breaths, and the pure distress obvious through the whispered plea of “Batman”.
“Ah!” The Joker clapped his hands together, loud enough to make Jason flinch next to him, “Everyone’s awake now, goody, goody! So let’s get back to the game at hand, shall we Cuckoo?”
He couldn’t help but feel slight relief at the Joker moving back towards him again, yes it meant there was God-knows-what in store for him, but at least he wasn’t watching his traumatised brother get tortured by his past murderer whilst there was nothing he could do about it. He could handle it if Jason didn’t have to. He would handle it. And then he’d get them out of here.
“Now,” the clown’s grin once again entered his vision, “let’s try this again Birdy. Have you enjoyed my games I worked oh-so very hard on?”
Tim centred himself with a couple of deep breaths, there was no good option for a response here - if he played along he could still hurt the civilian or Jason (or blow them all up for fun ,the most cynic part of his mind kept whispering), but if he spoke his mind he could do the same anyway simply because Tim would be seen as ‘rude’ all over again.
“You’ve killed innocent people Joker, that’s not a game to me.”
A gloved hand once again gripped his face, “Don’t be so boring little bird, you still have more to play to win the prize! Or have you forgotten about the lucky audience member who could die at any moment of my choosing?”
The whimpering got a little louder at that proclamation, and Tim couldn’t help but look over at the civilian. They looked worse than when Tim had first awoken, the tears from earlier had since been replaced by blood slowly dripping out of their eyes, the tremors of their body violently pulling them on to the floor any time they tried to move.
A sense of failure encompassed him. Tim was supposed to save them, but his current attempts of subtly moving to find weaknesses in the chains would take too long to enact if their condition was anything to go by.
“My own concoction of course! Just a little change to some of my first venom formulas revealed such a fun way to watch them all suffer,” he huffed in mock disappointment, “it really is a shame that they make that irritating noise instead of laughing, but you can’t have it all I guess, not even if you’re me!”
“Now, as we all know, I’m incredibly generous so there’s a secret way to save them!” Tim’s heart lifted at the possible hope of saving the civilian, the flash of a syringe in the Joker’s gloved hands catching his eye as he spoke, but the hope didn’t last long after the next word’s out of the clown’s mouth, “The final level of the game I have set out for you is an easy one don’t worry - kill the once dead bird, and you win the prize! Isn’t it fun?!”
The Joker burst into laughter at his reveal, dancing away from Tim to the metal table where there were a variety of weapons - ranging from knives, to baseball bats, to guns - displayed across it. Tim had initially thought they were going to be used to torture him, and he was right in a way, but he wasn’t expecting this. He should have expected something sick and twisted, but being forced to kill Jason? The thought alone made him want to vomit.
But what was worse, was the fact that they were vigilantes - they set out to protect civilians, not choose to save someone else over them just because they knew (and cared about) them. He’s sure the family would not be able to handle losing the older boy again, it would kill them, and it would kill him to be the one to do it. But he knows if he chooses to save Jason over a civilian, everything he’s ever worked for as a vigilante would be for nothing and he might as well let the Joker kill him now anyway. Fuck.
He looked at Jason opposite him, still so clearly petrified at the situation, but the small nod of his head as he stared at him was enough to know what he wanted and expected Tim to do. He wanted the civilian saved, even at the cost of his own life. Hell, Tim wouldn’t be surprised if he was comforted in some sort of sick and twisted way that it was Tim killing him instead of the Joker, even if the situation was still orchestrated by the Clown Prince of Crime himself. He had promised Jason. Promised him that he would get them out of this, and here he was, considering killing him himself. What kind of hero was he? He couldn’t even save two fucking people. But before Tim could spiral any further about his failures as both a vigilante and a brother, the Joker skipped towards him holding a gun.
“Are you having fun yet my little Cuckoo?”
He didn’t wait for Tim’s answer before continuing, grin getting wider with every word, “I am! What will dear old Batsy think of his precious ex-Robin breaking his favourite rule huh? I think it might just be enough to make him forget about the rule himself! It wasn’t when I was the culprit, but oh! His own son killing his other son - it just breaks your heart, doesn’t it Birdy?”
Tim could do nothing but clench his jaw as the clown continued monologuing. He couldn’t focus on Bruce right now, it wasn’t over yet - he was the Robin that could lie, the Robin that rescued Bruce from time, all of his skills could not be forgotten simply because he was scared, he had to be better than that.
He hadn’t managed to escape his chains on his own, but surely, surely, the Joker wanted him somewhat free to kill his brother. The Joker liked a spectacle, liked a game and Tim would play if it meant he could get everyone out alive.
But just as Tim was following this train of thought, the Joker leaned in unbearably close to Tim’s face, reaching for the lock to undo the chains located at the top of his spine, a place, had he got that far in his escape, that he would have struggled to reach.
His shoulders tensed as he felt the Joker’s breath on his ear, “Before you get any bright ideas on escaping or stupid little heroics Birdy, I’m sure you’ve noticed that gorgeous accessory on all of your necks, and even a step out of line means head’s go flying, got it?”
Tim gave a simple nod, he knew the stakes, and with every second that passed he was less and less sure of the plan he was making on the fly.
“Fantastic! Let’s start the final level then shall we?”
The chains dropped to his feet, finally allowing him to take a deep breath before he once again looked at the clown.
“And if I do this, if I kill him, the civilian is saved? And you let us go?” He asked.
“Yes yes I will give the whimpering mess the antidote, and even take my jewellery back, the fun in this is a little more abstract than my usual methods, but boy I cannot wait to see just how funny Batman will find this! Ha ha ha!”
A gun was pressed into his palm, and Tim watched in dread as the Joker went to stand to the side of Jason, caressing his face as he went.
Jason jerked away from the touch on instinct, his chains rattling violently at the movement.
“Don’t touch me,” he rasped.
His fear only spurred the Joker on, laughter echoing through the empty warehouse, “Oh, but you’re the guest of honour Boy-Six-Feet-Under!”
He laughed harder at this particular play on words before turning his attention back to Tim once again, “Dead once before and now your baby replacement gets to decide if you stay that way, so, come one Cuckoo, make the choice.”
The Joker’s serious tone at the end of his demand was enough to send shivers down Tim’s spine, by he centred himself, forcing his breaths to even - he had to figure this out one thing at a time.
Right now the collars were the biggest problem. Joker had hinted that they were remote-controlled, so, there was a trigger, and a trigger meant something that Tim could break. Probably.
He tightened his hold on the gun to try and disguise the tremor in his hand, he needed time.
The Joker mistook his floundering for solutions for hesitation, “Awe would you look at this! You don’t wanna shoot him? This is adorable.”
Jason seemed to tense up in the background, but Tim had other priorities right now.
The table full of weapons. No visible trigger in Joker’s hands, that would be too easy. Okay, what did Tim know about the Joker? Well he liked theatrics, but he was a cockroach at the core of him - he always made sure his plans ended up with him surviving. So, if he died, he’d make sure they went down with him? A dead man’s switch maybe? Then again, there could be voice activation or even a timer. Fuck, Tim didn’t have enough time to figure this out, the civilian was still dying on the floor and no matter what, he and Jason wouldn’t be too far behind if Tim didn’t figure this out.
The Joker was stood behind Jason now, hands on his shoulders, grinning expectantly at Tim - and wait. There. On his wrist. A small black device was strapped to his wrist, partially hidden by his garish purple sleeve. Tim watched as three red lights blinked at him from the device, and he finally relaxed a little. One problem answered.
He looked at the Joker and then back to Jason, who was now looking at the floor doing his best to fold in on himself and away from the clown’s touch.
“Can I at least say goodbye?” Tim asked quietly, trying to sound as defeated as possible.
Jason’s eyes snapped up, staring at him in some emotions Tim didn’t have the energy to decipher right now.
The Joker on the other hand clapped his hands in joy, finally taking a step out of Jason’s personal space, “Of course! How could I be so rude? See, this is why I chose you as part of my game Birdy! The drama! Flair! Oh, the emotional trauma! It really is fun to watch.”
Tim walked slowly towards Jason, trying to keep his mask in place, the gun now loose in his grip at his side.
Now he was up close, Jason looked even worse. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, bruising already darkening the skin of his jaw, and his breathing still too rapid for the calm he was trying to project. But he was still, despite it all. Because…he trusted him. Trusted Tim even with the gun in his hand and instructions to kill him for the second time in his life. God.
“Hey,” Tim said softly, eyeing the Joker who had taken another step away him them and was now angled to the left of them.
Jason swallowed, his voice raspy, “Don’t,” he muttered, “if this is the part where you get all emotional or something Pretender, I’m gonna be pissed and haunt you forever.”
Tim held back a surprised laugh, “Sorry Jay, your haunting privileges were revoked after, what, murder attempt number three?”
“Touché Red, but I’m stubborn enough to find a way.”
A cackle interrupted the moment, “So touching! Now get on with it.”
He leaned closer to the older boy, angled so the Joker couldn’t see his face, hoping it looked like he was saying one last goodbye.
“Trust me.”
Jason stilled, then, gave the briefest nod, hopefully unnoticeable to the clown nearby.
Good. Tim shot of a quick prayer to any deity that would listen for this to work. That he hadn’t been handed a trick gun as a test.
He took a step back, and raised the gun, ignoring the civilian’s cries as he decided on the best angle.
“Do it!” The Joker shouted impatiently.
The gun was aimed directly at Jason’s chest, right where his heart would be.
Jason met his eyes, lips twitched into a small smile, a sign of trust that Tim hadn’t realised existed between them.
Tim fired.
The shot ricocheted off the chain with a deafening clang, the bullet’s shrapnel flying off in all directions.
The Joker, momentarily distracted by ducking away from said shrapnel, didn’t have time to recover before Tim was on him. He tackled the man with enough force it felt like he had dislocated his shoulder and forced them to the ground.
The gun fell to the side of them, along with the detonator. No longer attached to the Joker’s wrist and no sign of his or anyone else’s heads being blown, the options for how the collars detonated were once again reduced.
The clown shrieked with laughter even as Tim drove an elbow into his throat.
“Now this is fun!”
Tim ignored him, punching him hard enough to stun. And again. And again.
“Red!” Jason barked, pulling him back to his mission.
The Joker was already scrambling for the detonator with his spare hand, but Tim caught his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
He grinned up at Tim, his horrible red smile stretching wider, “You’re weak Cuckoo. You won’t do it.”
And maybe once, Tim wouldn’t have. But he looked at the man who had caused so much pain and suffering to everyone in Gotham and hesitated. The Joker’s plan relied on Tim being like Bruce, being someone who wouldn’t kill him. But. Maybe that wasn’t the answer here.
He thought back to the promise he’d made Jason in a drugged haze - he’d get them out of this, no matter what. No matter what.
The Joker began reaching into his jacket, a second detonator visible, because of course he would have a back up. The clown’s thumb twitched towards it, but he wasn’t faster than Tim. The gun on the floor beside them found its way into Tim’s hand in the blink of an eye.
He fired.
The warehouse was silent, even the downed civilian stopped moving for a second.
The Clown Prince of Crime’s body collapsed back onto the concrete with a heavy thud, blood spread out around him from the bullet wound in his head. If Tim hadn’t watched this happen in real time, he wouldn’t even be sure who was beneath him, the close range had all but mangled the clown’s face, grin never to be seen ever again.
He waited for another moment, for another trick or punchline that the Joker was oh so fond of. But none came.
His ears rang, hands shook, gun clattering onto the warehouse floor beneath him - ohmygodohmygodogmygod - he’d killed someone. How would Bruce ever forgive him?
He’d killed him.
“Tim.” Jason’s voice cut through his spiral, pulling him back to his surroundings, “The collars and antidote.”
Right.
He needed to focus. The job wasn’t done yet.
He grabbed the detonator off the floor, hands slick with blood - don’t think about it - and examined the device. It was homemade but sophisticated, something he had come to expect from the Gotham villain who had a preference for bombs. There were three active signals for three collars, hopefully meaning there were no hidden surprises anywhere in the warehouse. He’d been right about the dead man’s switch as well, but instead of it activating when removed it was connected to the Joker’s pulse originally beneath it. Shit. If Tim had killed him - don’t think about it - whilst it was still on his wrist, it would’ve registered him flatlining and then they’d all be dead.
Don’t think about it.
His fingers quickly took apart the device, rearranging the wires as carefully as he could.
The civilian’s was the first collar to deactivate and click open, then Jason’s, and then finally his own.
He pawed at the Joker's blood stained suit, trying to locate the syringe from earlier, and hoped that he had been telling the truth about the antidote. The syringe was cold in his hand, and he tripped a little as he pushed away from the body underneath him, injuries and aches finally making themselves known after this whole ordeal; but he still made it to the young man whimpering in pain on the floor. A quick injection into the muscle of the arm seemed to have the right effect, the civilian’s muscles finally relaxing, a relaxed breath leaving him.
Tim was about to turn his attention to Jason when the man found the strength to grip his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
“Thank…you.” The grip loosened as he fell into unconsciousness, although a quick check of their pulse told Tim that he was simply resting, not dying. He still needed medical attention though. But. Jason first.
He stumbled over to his brother and made quick work of the chains still keeping him upright against the pillar. Jason didn’t even take a moment to recover before he grabbed Tim by the shoulders.
“You okay?”
It was immediate and genuine, as if nothing else mattered to him. And it reminded Tim so much of the Robin he used to watch jump across rooftops that he forgot to speak for a second.
“I-“ his voice cracked as he avoided looking at the body on the floor, “maybe. You?”
Jason had no such reservations and stared at the Joker’s corpse, blood still pooling around his head.
But it wasn’t anger that crossed his face as he looked at the man who had once killed him, or triumph, or anything Tim had expected, Jason looked relieved.
“Yeah,” his voice was quiet, “yeah, I think I might be.”
The tight hug he was suddenly embraced in was just as unexpected as the entirety of the past day, but Tim sunk into it, taking the comfort whilst he had it.
It didn’t take long for everything to catch up with him though, and Tim sank to the floor as his legs decided to give up, Jason never letting him go in the process and just moving their embrace to the cold concrete floor, the Joker’s corpse still way too close for his liking but he simply didn’t have the energy to move.
Somewhere in the distance, faint at first but definitely growing louder, the unmistakable sound of the Batmobile’s engines approached.
By the way Jason perked up he heard it too.
“Jesus, he really needs to start working on his timing.” Jason laughed, anger still laced his tone, but maybe not as much as it had before, Tim noticed.
“Don’t say that to his face, he might cry,” Tim countered, giggling to himself in what might be considered hysterics to other (normal) people.
He was somewhat terrified thinking about how Bruce would react to a death by his hands, but, here, in Jason’s tight grip, he didn’t have the energy to truly panic, instead he felt himself start feeling the pull of exhaustion.
Jason must’ve noticed him nodding off, as he said, “It’s alright kid, I’ll deal with it, just go to sleep, you deserve it after…well, you deserve it.”
It was as unconsciousness pulled him under that he heard the older boy mutter once more, “Thanks for getting us out Timmy, thanks for saving me.”