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They were running along the rooftops away from—actually, Tim didn’t even know.
Who was this person, anyways? Racking his brain, Tim threw himself over the side of another building. He landed with a roll, using the momentum to throw himself back upright and keep on running. Beside him, Jason was grumpily muttering something in between pants, typing something into his watch and probably grumping Oracle.
Well, at least we just need to keep running. Whatever they were doing, Bruce and Dick were going in to investigate. Cass, Steph, and Duke were all doing their own missions, patrols and whatnot. As for Damien, he was at home studying for a test under Alfred’s supervision. Whatever this was, it was big enough to need four of them, but Bruce had kept them all in the dark so far.
Except maybe Dick. And Damien. Dick because he actually knew what was going on, he was involved somehow. As for Damien, he kind of just figured it out. Tim had been too busy with Bernard to bother trying to find out on his own.
So, there he and Jason were, running along the rooftops like some crazed kids trying to parkour away from the cops.
Would he be wrong in saying it made him feel like he was an avatar in Subway Surfer?
Because he did. He very much felt like he was in Subway Surfer . The feeling only increased as he dropped down to skid beneath some random pipes on top of a building. What architect built them that way? Who was the city planner? Yeah, Gotham was what would happen if Art Deco and Soviet Brutalism had a bastard child that then turned into a vampire, considering the perpetual twilight that had settled over what Tim could only describe as an iron-and-gargoyle hellscape , but pipes on the roof? Really? Who was in charge of that? Who approved of it? That seemed like a work hazard for more than just the local vigilantes!
As he leapt to another building, landing with his knee bent to take some of the pressure, Tim felt something wrap around his neck.
Horrifyingly, he already recognized the texture. Leather. A whip. Gasping in a breath, he yelled a warning, Jason skidded to a stop beside him. The world flipped, his ankle popped in its place. Choking, Tim threw his hands up to the whip around his neck.
Then, his back slammed into the brick wall of the building he had just leapt from.
Gravity dragged down at him. Kicking out weakly, Tim tried to catch the brick wall with his feet underneath him. It didn’t work. When his twisted ankle (he hoped it was twisted, he hoped it wasn’t sprained or broken ) hit the wall, he gasped in a sharp breath as pain shot up his shin. A cry left him after a moment, scraping the breath from his lungs as he grasped at the whip curled around his neck.
Tears welled up underneath his mask, and he was dragged upright. The bricks scratched at his cape, at his back. Thrashing, Tim glanced up. His eyes fell on Jason, who was staring at him in horror.
Throwing an arm out, Tim gestured for Jason to run, to go. Slowly, the Red Hood figure disappeared from the edge of the building. Tim went limp.
Go get help, Red. Go find someone else. I’ll be fine.
A hand locked in the scruff of his neck, and he was thrown to the side.
He went rolling across the rooftop. Coughing, he reached up and touched his neck. The whip was still curled around his neck. A moment later, it tightened. Gasping, Tim curled in on himself again. Copper was beginning to drip into the back of his throat. Gritting his teeth, he glanced to the side.
The person was standing on the roof as well. Stalking over, they let out a short huff of a laugh. “Looks like I caught a little birdie. Hmm.” They glanced over their shoulder. “What do you think, Red Hood? I heard the two of you were working together now, but wow. I didn’t think the rumors were actually true.” Shaking their head, they crouched down and then grabbed Tim’s jaw. Jerking his head up, they smiled down at Tim. It made them look less comforting and more like a starved wolf looking at a wounded rabbit. Reaching for his staff, Tim curled his fingers around the cold metal.
The strike was so quick he didn’t even see it coming.
Head jerking to the side, Tim gasped. There was blood in his mouth now. Spitting it out, he kept his head down. The staff was ripped from his grasp and then thrown across the rooftop. It clattered loudly against the concrete. “I really wouldn’t do that.” They said, scoffing.
Remaining on the ground, Tim curled his fingers around the whip. It was still coiled around his neck. Worse than that, it was still taught . He couldn’t get it free. Biting his lip, he glanced to the side. The person standing over him had turned back to Jason, although they pressed a foot to Tim’s back and loudly cracked their knuckles.
“It’s a shocker, really. I thought you hated this kid. Didn’t he steal your colors?” On the other rooftop, Jason was staring at Tim. Somehow—the tightness in his shoulders, the tense of the way he was standing—Tim knew Jason was about as able to move as he was. He was just as terrified of moving as Tim. Not good. We need to get someone else here.
The next thing he knew, the whip was tightening around his neck.
Choking, Tim grasped at the whip. His fingers popped and cracked where they were trapped against his throat. With a loud wheeze, he dropped to the side. Tears welled up even further in his vision. Within a few moments, black dots began to dance in his eyes. The few streetlights that he could see began to blur out. The skyline in the distance dipped and swirled, the stars fading out. The foot on his back shoved him to the side.
No, come on. Kicking weakly, he gasped for air. Jason disappeared from his vision, he couldn’t see to the other rooftop anymore. He wasn’t even sure Jason was there, honestly. Copper continued to flood his mouth. Blood dripped down onto the concrete rooftop. Shaking, Tim tugged at the whip again.
It didn’t move.
He was going to die here.
Head resting against the concrete, he coughed weakly. His grip loosened against his will. Blood slicked his fingers, there was heat under where the whip was. Something else was cutting into the undersides of his fingers. Is this bladed? He wondered, blurrily.
Finally, the whip loosened.
Not much. But enough. Gasping, Tim slumped against the concrete even more. Shaking his head, he sucked in air greedily. Did they do that on purpose? Or is someone else here?
A gloved hand curled around his neck. Flinching away, Tim cried out at the feeling of the blades—there were blades, or something sharp on the whip. “Hey, hey.” A familiar voice said. Someone brushed his hair back, out of his eyes. As his blurry vision came back, Tim shook his head. Gasping in breaths, he kicked out weakly. “Come on, Red. You’re fine, you’re okay. They’re down, they’re gone. I got you.”
Jason.
The whip was gently uncoiled from his neck, and Tim looked up at Jason. There was a small spatter of blood across the left side of Jason’s helmet. A dent in the top of right side. Blinking, Tim reached up with a shaky hand. His fingers landed on the dent. Jason glanced down at him for a second. “Red?”
“You’re—hurt.” Tim mumbled. There were tears running down the side of his face. His mask must be gone, then. Either to check for a concussion or something else. Maybe he was worse off than he thought.
Jason let out a short scoff. “Says the one who just had a whip around his neck. Look, I’m taking the Red Robin costume off you and then I’m getting you to a hospital. It’s easier to explain this away than to try and bring you back to the Batcave with your mask like this.” Nodding, Tim reached out and found the straps of his costume. “Whoa, whoa. Hold on, don’t hurt yourself.”
“I have a hoodie folded up in my—thing,” Tim gestured to his utility belt. Glancing down at it, Jason turned to look at him.
“What the— how?” Tim laughed at him. Then, he glanced up at the stars. Everything dimmed out. “Tim? Tim, hey, stay with me—”
Tim did not stay with him, blacking out instead.
+ Lil’ Bonus Scene
He woke up in a hospital bed.
“Ow.”
Next to him, someone flailed and sat up. Tilting his head to the side slowly, Tim focused on Bernard. A smile crossed his boyfriend’s face. “You’re up.” He said.
Looking at him, Tim asked, “Did you just almost fall off the chair?” Bernard’s face blushed red.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”