Chapter Text
It felt like there was a splinter inside of Tim’s brain. A piece of wood that got in one day, and he’d desperately tried to get out, only to dig the thing deeper into his head. Like a scared child too nervous to ask their parents for help, he just left the splinter be, until countless nights of sleeping on it pushed it right into his head.
Tim never knew why or how he felt that way, but it was of little concern to him. Worry placed on a trivial matter was foolish, he’d learned. Something that had no reason to even be filed away into the back of his mind, taking up space. It was simply there to be forgotten the next moment. To float back into the recesses of his mind lit only by the dim flame that burned such thoughts.
He looked down at his feet, which were swinging over the edge of his bed idly. A bout of frustration rose in his stomach, and he hopped onto his feet. If he’d been taught anything in his few years working with the Court of Owls, it was that sitting idly in thought was nothing without any action behind it. What was the point of philosophy if one did not carry it out? He’d been taught the same thing by Bruce. Maybe if he’d done something, that damn demon brat wouldn’t have nearly killed him. Maybe his idol wouldn’t have bent his bones so much they still ache on bad days.
Focus. Breathe.
He took a deep breath in. And exhaled. Eyes refocused on the present reality.
Tim’s room was very dimly lit, being underground. Like most of the rooms he’d come to know, it was stone walls and floors, being carved out from the ground. Sparsely decorated. Tim was never one for decorations, and it only made his room truly embrace the grungy cave look. It bore an eerie resemblance to the Bat Cave. Perhaps that was why he kept his room free of the gaudy chandeliers and gold-framed portraits that decorated nearly every other room in the base. The most fancy thing he had in his room was a grandfather clock, which ticked rhythmically without fail every second. A constant.
Tick
Tick
Tick.
9:45 p.m.
I should get to the main hall for that meeting. Tim thought. He walked over to the inlet that served as his closet, and pulled a plain black cloak from its hook, draping it over his shoulders and connecting it with a beautiful silver brooch of an owl, before promptly reaching for a mask that sat on a makeshift stone shelf. It was plain white, with a beak and small slits for eyes. He only wore it while he was in the base, whenever he had to go to meetings.
He was grateful for that. The mask covering his full face felt suffocating. Limiting. As highly trained as his senses were, the mask managed to make him feel as though each of those senses were stripped away from him. Though, leaving his room he was met with other people with the same masks, the same faceless faces.
Taking in the damp smell of the cave, he walked down the hallway, giving nods of acknowledgement whenever he made eye contact with another member of the Court. A respectful gesture. One of them fell into stride with him.
“Heading to the main hall?” She asked. Brown hair framed the blank face of her mask, which placed a soft muffle on her voice.
It was natural manners to not speak unless spoken to by a superior. Exceptions were made for those who held equal power.
Tim nodded, “I have a meeting. Apparently there’s a new client.”
“You’re not usually called for general client meetings and conferences. Negotiations are usually my job.”
“I know.”
“What’s special this time?”
“I’m not sure, Clara,” Tim’s eyes narrowed under the mask, “But it must be important to involve me somehow.” Clara nodded, and the rest of the walk down the twisting corridors was silent aside from the shrill squeaking of boots and the soft clicks of heels from passersby. At the end of their walk was a large door that towered up to the ceiling, adorned with beautiful golden handles, which twisted like two snakes ready to snap, lest the wrong person pull on them. The metal was cold under Tim’s grip when he pulled it.
It was like he was always the right person to pull on it.
Behind the doors laid a long table, ornate wooden chairs positioned across each side. Roughly half the seats already had their occupants, all of whom sat patiently, hands neatly resting on the arms of the chairs. Tim, without hesitation, took a seat near the head of the table, two seats down. Clara sat next to him. Most people would tense up at the air of complete silence in the room. For those in the Court, however, it simply brought tranquility and repose.
“Good evening,” A voice rang out once all the seats were filled. The members of the Court bowed their heads in respect to the source, the woman sitting at the head of the table. The Judge.
She was the one who led the Court. The head of the Owls. The Grandmaster. Tim recalls first meeting her in his days as Robin, having crossed paths with her and her talons. That was the first time she had offered to take him in. He had been foolish enough to decline the offer. It wasn’t until he’d been beaten to a pulp by his former allies that he realized he wasn’t wanted. Wasn’t needed . That Bruce Wayne could offer him more, but chose not to. The Court wouldn’t just offer him everything. They would give him everything.
“It is my pleasure to welcome our guests to our conference room. I am positive you will treat them with the utmost respect.” The Judge’s voice was stiff, stern. Like an office manager. “I would like all of you to give a warm welcome to Lady Shiva and her representatives from the League of Shadows.” Timothy lightly applauded with all the other members. “You may speak.”
“Thank you,” Shiva spoke. Her tone was that of the Judge’s, though with much more of a cut to it, like a hot knife through butter. “I’m eager to discuss plans with you. It is to my understanding that you wish to form an alliance between our two… groups, correct?”
“Not quite an alliance. More of a… mutually beneficial relationship.” The smile beneath the Judge’s mask could practically be heard through her voice.
“An agreement to not directly interfere with the plans of each other.” The Judge continued, “You will stay away from Gotham, and likewise, we will not make any direct deals with the League of Assassins. If they come to us with information, we will inform you immediately.”
Shiva smirked, “What makes you think you’ll be getting any deals from the League of Assassins? They’re not exactly the most friendly bunch.”
“Our head Talon, knows of many connections between Gotham City itself and the League.” The Judge motioned towards Tim with a hand.
Tim nodded, “Of course, you know of Gotham’s vigilante, Batman. His son is that of Talia Al Ghul. This boy happens to don the mask of Robin.” Tim leaned a bit closer to the table, “This makes Gotham a very… special place for the League. They have their eyes on our city, and on us. We’ve been approached by them before, which I have previously been able to successfully trace back to hidden bases in the city itself.”
Shiva raised an eyebrow.
“He’s quite the impressive young man, isn’t he?” The Judge mused playfully.
“Indeed. It seems like you’ve got your own ‘Greatest Detective’ don’t you?” Shiva laughed, “Unfortunately a few party tricks aren’t enough to convince me. In fact, if the League is so attracted to Gotham, why should we stay away? I think we should be making our base of operations here instead.”
“Clara, please inform our guests of our policies.”
Clara stood, “The Court has defended its city for centuries, and out of respect for our ancestor’s traditions and past lives, we continue to defend Gotham, to bring it up to its former greatness, and build it anew. This goal will be achieved by any means necessary, resulting in, but not limited to full exposure of your group and its bases to public media, extermination of members, alerting authorities of your details, aliases, and other identifiable information, and a complete wipe from Gotham City’s history.”
Shiva grinned, “Well, that’s what I like to hear. Someone who defends what’s theirs and fights for it. Well, you have a deal.”
The Judge bowed her head, “Thank you, Lady Shiva. We do not take our promises lightly. Rest assured, your words will be remembered by the Court as long as ours are.” She stood, and gently clapped her hands, “I dismiss this meeting.”
Everyone stood, getting out of their chairs and tucking them back in. Tim was about to leave, before a hand was put on his shoulder. His head snapped around, less in a panic, and more out of a learned reflex and his constant alertness. It was Shiva.
“You’re impressive, boy,” Shiva chuckled, “Who taught you to trace League signals like that.”
Tim shook his head, “I learned it myself.” She narrowed her eyes.
“You don’t just learn those things by yourself. You must have had some sort of mentor.”
Bruce Wayne, Batman. Tim could say. But he knew better than to say anything that could link him back to anything but a faceless owl mask.
“I’ve been instructed to keep that information private,” He responded coolly.
Shiva scoffed, “You’re all just as uptight as I expected. But I see no use in prying. I have a feeling that won’t get me anywhere. I must ask, though, have we… met before? You seem familiar. No need to give a name, I know I wouldn’t be able to get that out of you anyways.”
Shiva was Tim’s mentor for a while, back when he was first training. When Bruce had sent him around to train in various styles of combat. It was with Lady Shiva where he had picked up what became his signature weapon, the bo staff. Of course she recognized Tim’s speech, the way he spoke. The constantly battle-ready reflexes and posture she herself had taught him.
But of course, that past link, positive as it may have been, was severed, just like all the rest. He was to continue denying.
“I don’t believe so.” Tim held out a hand, and Shiva shook it firmly.
“Well, then I look forward to working with you more.” Shiva pulled her hand away, and motioned for her representatives to follow her. They trailed out of the room, leaving Tim alone.
The room seemed so much bigger when he was alone. With nobody else in it. He found comfort in it, being so small in such a big place. Tim swept his arms out beside him, as if catching rays of sun, embracing the openness of the room. Faint music down the hall grew louder in his ears, like a performer making their grand entrance in a Greek tragedy. That was what he was, after all.
“Timothy.”
Tim’s head turned, and his face met with that of the Judge. Immediately, those feelings of pride were stripped from him, and he felt nothing but shame. It was a conceited thing to do, envisioning himself as some savior. Beneath his mask, he could feel the embarrassment creeping up his cheeks.
“Yes, Ma’am. I apologize,” Tim began.
“You are forgiven. Now, sit down, please. I need to have a conversation with you.” The Judge took a seat, and Tim took the seat directly across from her.
“I know you’re a smart boy. You must know that I didn’t summon you here just to oversee a minor meeting,” The Judge hummed, “No, no, I brought you here instead because I have another task I must ask of you.”
“Of course, anything you need,” Tim replied. His monotone and professional voice masked the slowly bubbling excitement in his chest. Getting any kind of assignment was an honor, and much more so from the Judge herself. It solidified Tim’s position. His purpose. His identity.
His. His. His.
The Judge pulled an envelope out of her pocket, “I need your help to build something.”
Tim’s eyes lit up. He’d give anything to get his creative juices flowing again. Creativity felt like a luxury in the Court. Given out like a good mark on a report card.
“With pleasure. What is it that you need?”
The Judge slid the piece of envelope over to Tim, and he looked at it curiously. His fingers simply picked at it eagerly, awaiting the order to open it.
“Everything you need to know is in that envelope. You may open it once you are in your room,” She said, “And with this task, you are granted special permission to leave the base whenever you see fit to collect any items necessary, make observations, or study the city. Anything that will benefit your progress of our device.”
Tim knew his smile peeked out slightly from under his mask, but he couldn’t be bothered to contain himself any further. The music down the hall swelled in a tone of great joy. Tim stood and knelt before the Judge.
“Thank you, Ma’am. I will not let you down.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he rose. She knew he would not let her down. After all, he never had before.
Not after letting down those he previously pledged allegiance to.
Her voice softened once “I know what you’re thinking. You did not let them down. They let you down. Do not let your past allies clip your wings as they once did. You are to show them with pride, grace, and humility.”
A smile crossed Tim’s lips, and he nodded, “Thank you, Ma’am. You’ve given me so much. It is only fair that I give that all back to you.”
“Of course, little bird. You are dismissed.”
With the wave of a hand, Tim was out the door, and hastily walking to his quarters. Even once the door behind him was closed, and he was safely hidden away in his quarters, he found himself resisting the childish urges of laying on his bed, kicking his feet in excitement.
That wasn’t him anymore.
The current version of him was sitting down at the desk looking at the envelope.