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Jason stood in the Tower glaring at his poor excuse for a successor.
The green was only at the edges of his vision as the brat had actually been quite accommodating so far, not grunting like Bruce would or trying to be funny like Dick.
He seemed to be waiting for Jason to make the first move, which was very polite of him. He obviously knows his villain etiquette.
"They said I wasn't tough enough to be Robin," Jason snarled.
Tim – who had been an attentive listener throughout his speech– suddenly looked down at Jason's shoes. His eyes went wide and he stumbled back.
"Hood, there's–" A strange pitter patter sound cut him off. Tim’s face went ashen.
Jason bit back a growl. "What, brat?"
So much for being polite, he's just as bad as the others.
Tim screeched which made Jason jump out his skin because what the fuck? He threw a batarang at the floor, sprinted away and skittered up onto the kitchen counter as if that would help him.
"You think I can't reach you from there?" Jason snarled, advancing on him.
Tim stared incredulously. "I'm not hiding from you dumbass." Rude. "I'm running from that thing scuttling around your feet."
Jason rolled his eyes. What, the kid was scared of spiders? Figures, with him being a Bristol brat and all. But Jason grew up on the streets. It would take more than a bug to phase him.
Then he saw it.
The thing was crawling towards him – bare inches away from his feet – on countless legs, staring up through dozens of beady black eyes.
Jason screamed.
He bolted across the room and climbed up onto the counter beside Tim.
Not wasting a second, he flicked the safety off his gun and shot a round of bullets at it.
"What are you doing?!" Tim screeched. Jason winced, was the kid training to be Robin or Black Canary?
"Killing it."
"More like wasting bullets." Tim muttered.
"Oh fuck you! I don't see you doing anything."
Tim threw a plate at it.
"It's bigger than a bullet." Tim said in reply to Jason's judgemental look.
"They said you were smart."
"They told me you were tough. Clearly everyone we know is a liar." Tim spat viciously.
Jason grunted in agreement. The hero community sucked.
-
Thirty minutes later, Jason wanted to cry. The Thing™ had taken to skittering across the room at random points just to torment them.
But no, that wasn't the worst part. Each time it did, it got closer and closer to the counter. It was the most sadistic thing Jason had ever encountered and he'd croaked it via Joker.
"Just kill me." Tim wailed. This really wasn't how Jason imagined making his successor beg for death.
"And leave myself saddled with this shit? No fuckin' way." Jason shook his head.
Tim glared. "You're a shitty assassin." He said. "And your helmets ugly."
"Still not killing you." He said. But God, was it tempting.
"Coward." Tim hissed.
Jason waited for the green to rear its ugly head. He would be thankful for it at this point.
But no, the Pit was gone. It probably ran away out of sheer terror from the thing on the floor.
"Maybe Nightwing will get it." Tim said, peeking up at Jason. It seemed to be a reassurance and an olive branch in one.
But Jason couldn't let Tim run around with false notions of the kind of man Dick was. He figured he owed the kid one for warning him about The Thing™ when he saw it.
"Dick once threw me at a beetle to give himself time to climb up Bruce." Jason said.
Tim looked crushed. " Dude, that's so messed up."
Jason hummed. It was a pretty harrowing experience. "He didn’t even say sorry."
Tim looked aghast. It was weirdly validating.
-
Fifteen minutes later, it was scuttling a few feet away from the counter.
Desperation was at an all time high. Jason wasn't sure what would happen when it reached their pitiful sanctuary.
"What if we – now hear me out." Tim raised his hands as if preparing for an onslaught of protests.
Jason leaned forward. "What?" He was down for anything at this point.
"What if we called Deathstroke?" Tim blurted out.
Jason went to say fuck no, then stopped.
The Thing™ scuttled closer.
He looked back at Tim and considered it.
He really considered it. Deathstroke wasn't a bad guy, well, he was. But not any more than Jason.
"We'd owe him one." Jason said.
Tim shrugged. "I've owed worse people bigger favors." He said.
Jason's brow creased. Should he be concerned? That sounded like a concerning thing for a kid to say. But what would he know?
Either way, he's the responsible one here. And responsible people don't call up Deathstroke.
"No." Jason's voice wasn't as strong as he'd have liked it to be.
Tim honed in on that weakness like a bloodhound. "Jason, come on, we could be safe–"
"No."
"He's not that bad really–"
" Timothy ." Jason hissed.
" Dick would call him." Tim sniped.
Jason drew himself up ready to give a strongly worded response to that when the thing scuttled towards their counter in a tangle of legs and eyes.
Jason screamed and started shooting with his free hand. The other being occupied by Tim who was holding on for dear life.
The Thing™ retreated slightly.
"I don't have many rounds left." Jason whispered.
"I've only got a few batarangs."
"We're screwed."
"Yeah."
-
Five minutes later, Jason was ready to say his prayers.
Tim, on the other hand. "If we – if we get Superman–"
"No, fuck that guy." Jason snarled.
Tim's eyes widened. "Bruce–"
" No ."
"No, Bruce is here." Tim pointed at Bruce who was all suited up and looming in the doorway, Dick lingering a few steps behind him. "Help!" Tim waved frantically as if they were out in the middle of the ocean rather than on a shitty kitchen counter.
"Tim, I – What is going on?" His eyes flickered to Jason. "Jay?" Bruce's face went soft with awe.
The Thing™ charged at Bruce.
"Dad look out!" Jason yelled.
Bruce dived out the way.
Tim grinned. "Aww, you called him dad."
"Go die." Jason scowled.
"That's more your thing than mine." Tim said. Dick gasped. Jason snorted. What a ruthless little Robin. "Too soon?"
Jason ruffled Tim's hair. "Like that's ever been an issue for you, Robin three ."
"Boys." Bruce chided.
The Thing™ started moving in Dick's direction. Jason remained silent, happy to leave Dick to his fate.
"Look out!" Tim called, unfaltering in his loyalty to the man who would throw him at a beetle to give himself more time.
Dick yelped and flipped up onto a nearby table.
"Hm." Bruce squinted down at The Thing™. "I used to catch these in jars as a child."
"Of course you did." Jason muttered.
"Jason tried to shoot it." Tim piped up. "We were going to call Deathstroke."
"No we weren't–" Jason said trying to save face.
"Slade killed a cockroach for me once." Dick gave them an approving nod.
Tim turned to Jason. "See?"
"I always wanted one of these as a pet." Bruce mused, then he brightened. "Maybe we can–"
"No!" All three of them yelled.
"What's wrong with you?" Jason exclaimed.
"I say we put it in the Joker's cell in Arkham." Tim said coldly.
Huh. Turns out his successor isn't half bad.
-
They called Wonder Woman in the end.