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Jason wakes up sitting, his legs and arms bound by what feels like rope around the arms and legs of a wooden chair. He wouldn’t know for sure—there’s something blocking the eyesight of his hood. He strains his ears, trying to use one of the only senses he has left, but his efforts are futile.
He struggles in his bonds, trying to pull his wrists free. The rope holds on fast, wrapped multiple times around his forearm, securing him. He has a knife in his cargo pocket, if only he could—
A groan sounds from behind him.
Jason’s instantly on alert. He isn’t sure how he hadn’t realized he isn’t alone. His struggles increase tenfold as he tries to get out of the rope.
“Who’s there?” The voice comes from behind him.
Jason freezes.
Is that the Replacement?
He lets out a frustrated groan.
“Hood.” Tim sounds delighted. “That you?”
“Yeah, pipsqueak.” Jason grits his teeth. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you here?”
It’s a fair question that Jason cannot answer.
The last thing he remembers is getting to his apartment after patrolling, exhausted from a night of busting criminals’ asses and protecting the people of Crime Alley. He had collapsed in his bed still in his uniform, with the mental promise that he would wash his sheets the next day. He relays this to Tim.
“Well, I went back to the Cave,” Tim says. Jason can feel his chair moving. “So whoever did this had a plan. This wasn’t a random kidnapping.”
Whoever did this has a lot of audacity, Jason decides.
“Besides,” Tim continues. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
Jason pauses. “You can see?”
He can hear Tim’s teeth grinding. “Uh, yeah.”
“They blacked out my fucking eyes,” Jason says, annoyed. “Why do you get to see?”
Tim doesn’t reply.
Jason grunts. “Tell me what you see, Red. Don’t leave me blind.”
Tim’s chair squeaks. “Um, we’re in a room. There’s a lot of drawings on the walls. I see no doors, no entrances.”
“Drawings?”
“Words and drawings written in blood, yes,” Tim clarifies. His chair squeaks again.
“Why’d you omit that detail the first time, huh?” Jason spits out. The air surrounding them seems to get colder. “Seems kind of important.”
“Because,” Tim presses. “It’s freaking me out.”
“Stop freaking out,” Jason shoots back. Tim's chair creaks.
Jason feels the pull before he has a chance to process what’s going on. The chairs tilt suddenly, falling violently onto their sides. Jason’s head slams into the ground. “Tim,” he groans. “What the fuck.”
“I was trying to help!” Tim defends. He wiggles, and both chairs shake.
“Stop moving.” Tim suddenly stops. Damn. He didn’t expect the Replacement to actually listen to him.
“Jason,” Tim’s voice interrupts the silence quietly. “There was a bomb sitting under us.”
It was like Tim had slapped him in the face. “What?”
—
He’s swimming on land. He’s crawling towards the door, one limb at a time. Arm stretched, just a few more feet. His feet are useless.
Jason.
Just a few more feet. He drags himself forward slowly. His blood streaks the floor.
Jason.
The door handle doesn’t budge. The bomb keeps ticking.
Jason’s going to die.
“Jason!”
Jason zones back into Tim’s yelling. “What?”
He’s suddenly aware of how breathless he is.
“You’re fine, Jason. We have thirty minutes. We can get out of here. I promise you.”
One. Two—
One. Two. Three. Four.
Jason counts his breaths in his head, purposefully slowing them down, the way he has done a thousand times in the past.
“Can you get out of the ropes?” Tim asks. “Mine are too tight. I can’t do anything.”
“Maybe,” Jason replies. “Maybe. I don’t know. Just give me a fucking second.”
“Okay, that’s—” Tim cuts himself off. “That’s okay. You can have a second.”
Jason pulls hard at his wrist ropes, trying to reach his knife. It feels like it gets tighter the more he moves. “I don’t think this is gonna work.”
Tim is silent for a second. “Just keep trying, please.”
—
“How much longer?” Jason asks, sweat dripping from his brow. He’s so close to reaching his knife, if only his bonds would loosen just a bit more.
Tim doesn’t answer.
“Red, I asked you a question.” He knows his voice sounds intimidating through his helmet. “How much time is left?”
Silence.
Jason feels weight knock against the back of his helmet. He hears a sniffle.
“Are…are you crying?” Jason asks, incredulous.
“No.” It sounds very defensive.
“Look at the damn bomb and tell me how much longer.” Jason tries not to grit his teeth.
A pause. Then, with the quietest voice Jason’s ever heard from Tim: “Eleven minutes.”
“Okay,” Jason replies. “Easy. Just give me five minutes, Timmy.”
—
Six minutes remain on the clock when Jason finally loosens his bondings enough to reach the knife in his cargo pocket. He saws through the ropes on his arms and ankles and rolls out of the chair, wiping the black something smearing over his helmet and maneuvering over to Tim to cut through his ropes too. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“And go where?” Tim asks, rubbing at his wrists. Blood drips from his temple. “Remember? No doors. No entrances.”
Jason looks around. They appear to be in a large metal box, screwed together at the sides. There was one vent in the bottom of the wall. Jason points. “Get your skinny ass through that vent.”
Tim gapes at him. “I cannot fit in that!” he says, affronted.
Tick.
Jason looks towards the sound.
Tick.
The bomb now had five minutes on the clock.
Forget it.
Jason moves towards the bomb, inspecting it. He removes the front and he's greeted with a plethora of wires. Tim leans over his shoulder.
“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Jason admits.
Tim looks at him, and Jason can see the fear in his eyes. “Do comms work?”
Jason reaches up to his ear. “This is Hood. Red and I need assistance.”
Static.
“We’re trapped in some kind of metal box. Need immediate assistance. Red is injured. There’s a bomb. Four minutes left on the clock.”
More static.
Tim glares at him. “I’m fine.” He moves over to the wall of the box, pressing his ear against it. “I can’t hear anything. We have to be somewhere hidden.”
“Or the walls are too thick for sound to get through.” He pulls his gun out of the holster, shooting at the wall. The bullet lodges in the wall. He shoots repeatedly until one piercings through and he quickly moves over to the whole.
He peers out of the hole.
He sees nothing but trees. A thick, dense, and dark forest surrounds them.
“It’s nighttime,” Jason says, turning back towards Tim. “And all I see are trees.”
“Jason.” Tim rubs at his arm, his eyes wide. “What do we do?”
It’s the most scared Jason’s seen Tim in a while. He moves back over to the bomb. “I got this, Baby Bird.”
He stares at the wires. Tim sits down in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees. Jason carefully touches the wires. There were a lot more red and green wires than any other color. One red wire connected to the timer. Most wires were criss-crossed and messy. “This shit looks homemade.”
“Can you figure it out?” Tim asks.
One minute remains on the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Jason's close to panicking again, but he holds it in for Tim’s sake. On one hand, if he pulls the wire and he’s wrong, he and Baby Bird are dead.
Dead, deceased, departed.
On the other hand, if he does nothing, he and Tim are still dead.
He doesn’t have a choice.
Tick Tick Tick Tick—
Jason pulls the red wire, squeezing his eyes shut, bracing for the worst.
It doesn’t come.
Turning slowly, he makes eye contact with a Red Robin that’s whiter than a sheet. He lets go of the ripped wires in his hand and starts laughing. “We didn’t die, Baby Bird.”
A large rumbling sound echoes from outside. The wall suddenly caves in. Batman and Nightwing rush in.
Jason continues cackling. “You would’ve been a second too late.” He holds up the bomb. Bruce takes it from him, carefully.
Dick rushes over to him. “Are you okay, Little Wing? Tim? Are you okay, too?”
Tim gives a shaky thumbs up.
Jason shrugs. “Nothing new.”
Dick sighs. Bruce winces. “I’m glad you are both okay.”
“Come on.” Dick helps him stand up, one hand bracing his arm. “Let’s get you both home.”
Jason can’t find it in him to complain. So, he goes.
They both do.