Chapter Text
The car screeched to a halt in the cave and an instant later Damian stormed out, threw his mask on the ground, and went to go hit something.
Bruce emerged a moment later carrying Tim. His slender, almost frail-looking form was dwarfed in the larger man’s arms, still unconscious courtesy of a sedative administered before they left. The dosage was adjusted to his Lazarus Pit-induced tolerance, a measure Steph had suggested given the failure of the gas countermeasure. They knew what dosage to use thanks to trial and error with Damian; they still hadn’t told him they’d figured out he’d been through the Pit himself, or that Jon’s attempt to deflect when Cass asked him straight out was all the confirmation they needed that it was true.
Speaking of whom, Cass’s flight was being delayed by a big storm in the Midwest over Keystone City which they had to go around, delaying her by about half an hour.
Steph followed in Bruce’s wake and wheeled herself into the medbay. This time they were taking no chances, placing him in the bed with three-point restraints, for when one of them was lashing out and insensible from fear toxin or one of Ivy’s pollens. Alfred had already prepared the medbay and laid out all of Steph’s supplies, and now he stood at the ready with a grim, sad expression on his face.
Bruce did the restraints silently, his face set. The cowl stayed up this time - Steph figured Bruce needed to not be Bruce right about now. She had never seen the point of that duality - Spoiler, Batgirl, and Nightingale were all her, one way or another.
She came to a rest at the side of the bed and activated the clamps that would hold her chair in place, and then raised the platform she was sitting on so that she could better reach Tim. She looked up at Bruce.
“There’s no guarantee this will get rid of JJ,” she admonished, “I tried to replicate the way the Lazarus waters would bind to the molecular structure of Joker toxin on one of our antidotes, but we have no way of knowing if the toxins and the waters together made him into Joker Junior.”
Batman grunted. “We don’t have many other options,” he said, “this is the best we have.”
“I know that,” she said, “I just want you to temper your expectations.” Then she applied a tourniquet to Tim’s wrist, palpated a vein in his hand, disinfected the site, and stuck the IV cannula in. After she taped it down, she picked up a syringe filled with a bright green liquid and stuck it into the cannula.
They were silent for a few moments. There was no visible change. She picked up the second syringe.
“I’m gonna counteract the sedative,” she explained, “he should come to a few moments later. Then we’ll see if Joker Junior or Tim wakes up.”
She depressed the plunger, and they waited. The minutes dragged out as the sedative was counteracted. Then, after a few minutes, Tim’s eyes fluttered open, now having dulled to their new teal color.
Tim attempted to bolt up in the bed, but was held back by the restraints.
“Dad!” he shouted.
His face was flushed, and he struggled in blind panic against the restraints.
“Tim,” Batman said firmly, “Tim, it’s okay - you’re safe.”
“Bruce?” Tim asked. He struggled one last time against the restraints. “Why am I -”
He caught a glance at Steph in her chair and the color drained from his face.
“No,” he murmured, “no, no, no, no, no, no, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, it was one of his tricks - it was a dream, it was a hallucination.”
His breath began to speed up, and his struggling became flailing. Tears streaked his cheeks as he desperately tried to break his bonds. Steph put a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away as if burned.
“Drake!” Damian snapped.
Soaked with sweat and with knuckles oozing from delivering killing blows to the practice mannequins, Damian strode over to the bed where Tim was still tied up. At the sound of Damian’s voice Tim immediately froze, though his breaths were still shallow and rapid.
“Drake, five things you can see,” he ordered.
Tim’s breathing began to even out, and he complied with Damian’s command. They ran down the list (sight: the lights, the stalactites, the bats, Bruce, sound: his breathing, the waterfall, the bats, the creaking of the bed, smell: the moisture in the cave, the antiseptic of the medbay, sweat, feel: the restraints, the mattress, taste: adrenaline.)
Damian nodded, and tentatively placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder.
“Good,” he said softly, “You’re doing well, Timothy.”
Tim stared up at them all with saucer eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.
Damian placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright.” Then he reached for the straps and began to undo them.
Bruce interjected. “Nightwing, what are -”
Damian’s head shot up, a scowl worthy of the House of al-Ghul on his face.“Father, I’m releasing Timothy whether you want me to or want. If this is a problem you are more than welcome to try to stop me.”
Bruce growled, but made no effort to try to stop me.
“You should keep me tied up,” Tim said miserably, “this is all my fault.”
“You weren’t in control,” Steph insisted, “you had no idea what you were doing.”
“What if I did?” Tim asked, his voice cracking. His eyes glistened. “I remember it all. I remember what I did, and I -” he faltered, “I remembered enjoying it. It felt good to be him. It felt good to pull one over all of you. Joker has Jason, people are dead, and it’s all my fault”
Alfred placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder.
“Master Tim,” he said without room for argument, “what happened to you was dreadful, and whatever the Joker did to you, it and the Lazarus pit combined to create this Joker Junior creature. But though he may have worn your face, he wasn’t you. Nobody blames you in the slightest for any of this, lad.”
Tim shook his head. “You should. It’s all my fault.”
“Then help us fix it,” Steph said, “do you know what Joker has planned?”
Tim nodded. “I know. He wants to -”
An alarm interrupted him.
“Oh dear,” Alfred said, “Master Bruce, I set the computer to alert us if Joker made an appearance on the television or internet. It appears that he has.”
“Patch it through,” Batman said, indicating the monitor off to the side. Alfred typed a few commands and the screen came to life.
Elevator music played, as Joker casually sat at a desk in a studio of some sort.
“Life got you down? Feeling like you don’t fit in? Looking to join a wonderful group of people with unique perspectives on the world? Well then folks, have I got the solution to all your woes!” He stood up from the desk and strode over to a large projector screen.
“Introducing Uncle J’s patented Double-whammy Born Again Laugh Again elixir, a patented new inhalable form of my famous Joker venom, with a handy new ingredient that will bring you new life!”
“Gee, Mistah J,” Harley said from behind the camera, “How does it work?”
“Why, I’m glad you asked, Miss Quinn,” Joker responded, “The truth is, folks, you’ve already seen it at work already! As we speak, hundreds of happy, laughing souls have had their lives changed for the better. Just one spray and they’ll see the world in a whole new way! But the fun doesn’t stop there.”
“It doesn’t?” Harley asked,
“No, not at all,” Joker said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “After all, laughter is more fun when you bring a friend. And right now our new friends are roaming the streets, recruiting anyone they think seems down in the dumps! And if they bring five friends, and they bring five friends, and they bring five friends, ha ha!” He leaned in close to the camera with a smirk.
“Soon everyone’s laughing.”
The commercial died.
“Can they do that?” Steph asked.
Tim looked miserable. “Yeah, they can. I had Stagg’s chemical plants working overtime to produce this stuff. They have enough to enthrall the whole city.”
“Then we need a way to counteract it,” Bruce decided, “and a way to disperse it widely enough to cure everyone who’s been gassed.”
“I have an idea,” Damian interjected. He strode over to the computer with everyone in tow After a few prompts he pulled up a series of schematics. “Zeta tubes run off of Martian fusion reactors based on schematics provided by J’onn J’onzz. There’s a Zeta tube in the Bunker - it could provide enough energy to flash boil water that’s been mixed with the cure. A large enough cloud of steam infused with the cure could reach all of Midtown and Downtown Gotham.”
“Zeta tubes have a failsafe that prevents them from going off without a working destination,” Steph objected.
Tim’s eyes widened and he joined in. Another few prompts and an animation played. “Zeta tubes establish a connection with their destination before transmitting their cargo” the animation showed one zeta tube sending a signal to another and then receiving it back in return “that’s how they make sure the destination tube is online. If we could spoof the connection of a distant enough destination - the Watchtower would be a good bet - we can make the Zeta computer think that it’s sending cargo to a working Zeta tube!”
“And without an actual Zeta tube to reconstitute the cargo into solid matter, the mass of the cargo will be converted to pure energy at the destination,” Bruce concluded. “It could work.”
“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, “If I may, you said Joker wishes to hand Master Jason over at Wayne Tower. Given this fact, it’s likely that the Bunker beneath Wayne Tower will be compromised. How do you intend to get past Joker’s minions?”
“He wants me,” Tim said, “that’s how we swing it. Bruce hands me over in return for Jason, and while Joker is distracted Damian clears the Bunker.”
“Timothy -” Damian says.
“ I’m the one who caused all this,” Tim interrupted, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. Besides,” he added with a hint of his old enthusiasm, “I owe Joker a few good knocks in the head.”
“Once the double-cross is underway it’ll be the three of us against Joker and Quinn,” Bruce added, “We only need to hold them off long enough to escape. The elevator in my office can take us directly to the Bunker.”
“Only one problem,” Damian said, “where are we going to get that much antidote?”
Steph thought for a moment.
“Tim,” she asked,” where was the Lazarus venom being made, anyway?”
“I - JJ - needed it to be somewhere discreet,” Tim explained, “and so, uh, he, decided to hide in plain sight, somewhere people already associate with shady business. So he gave orders to Stagg’s board to complete a buyout of Ace Chemicals so that he could use their factory.”:
Steph looked at him flatly. “You’re kidding.” she said.
Tim shrugged, “Everybody already knows that Ace Chemicals is dirty. What’s one more shady project?”
Steph grinned. “I know exactly how we’re gonna make the antidote we need.” She rolled up to the computer and typed in a number. A contact card appeared on the screen.
Bruce growled.
“Save it,” Steph interrupted, “we all use him from time to time.”
The phone rang a few times. Then it picked up.
“Yeah,” a young man’s voice said.
“Lonnie,” Steph said, “It’s Nightingale. I need a favor.”
“I’m listening,” Anarky replied.
***
“Wakey wakey,” a distant voice cooed.
The world slowly resolved itself into solid shape before Jason’s eyes. He was restrained somewhere - after a few moments he recognzied it as - fuck.
He was in Bruce’s office in Wayne Tower. Before him stood Joker and Harley Quinn.
He was strapped to what appeared to be a gurney that was tipped vertically, so that the straps of the three-point hold dug painfully into him, holding him a few inches above the floor.
“Attaboy,” Joker said with good cheer, “wouldn’t want you to sleep through all the fun, now would we.”
Jason spat. A gooey gob ran down Joker’s face. With a flat expression he smacked Jason backhanded with enough force to tip the gurney over. He hit the ground hard, smacking his head on the tile floor, causing stars to erupt in his vision. By the time his vision cleared, his head throbbing painfully, Harley had righted the gurney with difficulty.
“Now that was rude,” Joker admonished. “Say what you will about sonny boy, but back when he wore the old red suit he had some manners.”
Despite the pain Jason flashed Joker a shameless grin.
Joker sneered. “Laugh it up as much as you like, bird boy, it’s all for nought. You’re no longer a player on this board. You’re the bait.”
“Two of you against the rest of the Bats?” Jason quipped, “I like those odds.”
Joker tutted. “Birdy birdy birdy, you really don’t get it, do you?” He motioned to Harley. “Turn him around.”
Harley grunted and groaned and struggled, but with a tremendous effort she managed to turn Jason around and perch him at the edge of the window of Bruce’s office. Below, a crowd had gathered outside of Wayne Tower, seemingly thousands strong. Even high up as they were, he could, very faintly, hear the sound of laughter.
“Batys isn’t just going to face us,” Joker explained, “he’s going to have to face all of our friends. Every one a sad, sad soul who’s come to see the joke, all courtesy of Junior’s special little mix.”
“Batman will have a plan,” Jason said with certainty, “He’ll see this coming and have a way to cure everyone. He’s probably already cured Tim.”
“Ah yes,” Joker said. He motioned to Harley, and she once again struggled to turn Jason around. He seemed to lose the beat of his monologue amidst her straining and grunting, looking impatiently at his wrist even though he didn’t have a watch. Finally, Jason faced the door once again.
“Ah yes,” Joker repeated, trying to regain his momentum, “The other bird boy. You know Junior was quiet when we first got him, all clammed up and so loyal to Daddy Bats. But once he realized that there was nobody coming for him, and we got a little Joker venom in him (well, maybe more than a little,) he started to tell such tales. Tales I think you’ll find fascinating… Jason.”
The skin pricked at the back of Jason’s neck, though he’d figured Joker knew Bruce’s identity already.
“I’m not a very patient man,” Joker continued, “and I’m afraid I like to break the rules a little. I know Batsy plans to grab you at the handoff, and then he’ll be so dreadfully impolite as to try to steal Junior as well!”
He reached for the bust of Shakespeare that sat on Bruce’s desk, and to Jason’s surprise he flipped it over, pressing the button to open the secret compartment in Bruce’s desk. The spare Bat suit Bruce kept was revealed, as was a control panel. With the practice of someone who knew what to look for already, Joker pressed a few keys, and a screen descended from the ceiling. On it, in night vision green, was an image of the tunnels beneath Gotham.
One of them, the one that let out across the river in Bristol, only a few miles from Wayne Manor, was thronged with hundreds of people.
Joker shook his head mournfully. “Batsy doesn’t play fair,” he explained, “so I simply have no choice but to cheat a little myself. I’m afraid this handoff isn’t likely to happen. So I sent a few hundred of my closest friends to fetch Junior instead. Our happy family, reunited once more.”
Ice filled Jason’s veins. He had to warn them, but had no way of doing so.
The clanging of metal broke his train of thought. Joker had heaved a tool box onto the desk. He opened it, revealing a collection of implements and instruments that led Jason to squirm against his restraints. Prominent on top was a collection of wide-gauge syringes filled with fluorescent green and purple liquids.
It wasn’t this Joker grabbed, though. It was a long, thin metal rod with a trigger built into the handle.
“Say, Harley,” Joker said,
“Yes Mistah J?” Harley asked.
Joker grinned his most chilling grin.
“We have a few hours until our grand finale,” he explained. He pressed the trigger of the cattle prod. It sparked ominously.
“Let’s see if we can’t get the kid to show us his pearly whites,”
Jason’s self control failed him. He struggled fruitlessly against the restraints. As Joker lifted the cattle prod to begin what was going to be an unpleasant couple of hours, Jason closed his eyes.