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Tim was never going to live this down.
It was bad enough that he’d gotten kidnapped, but the fact that they’d taken him to a fish hatchery? Jason and Stephanie were gonna have an absolute field day.
Right now, they had him duct taped to a chair on top of the catwalk. Below him were about a dozen swimming pool-sized tanks full of fish. Two armed men wearing ski masks guarded him silently. He’d gotten grabbed on his way to meet Stephanie and Cass at the movies. They hadn’t really hurt him so far, barring the initial pistol whip he’d received before being thrown into the stereotypical white van. He hadn’t heard anything about a ransom demand, either, which was a bit abnormal at this point. By his calculations, he’d been gone almost four hours. More than enough time for someone as paranoid as his father to notice and start a manhunt. So hopefully, it wouldn’t be too much longer before someone came to get him.
Finally, the apparent leader of the operation stepped on to the catwalk. He wore an expensive-looking suit, and unlike his hired guns, he wasn’t wearing a mask.
Well, shit. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Drake,” he greeted. His Jersey accent was thick, but he obviously had money. In addition to his suit, Tim noticed a Rolex on his wrist. So he was probably affiliated with the mob in some way, like an Al Capone wannabe. All he was missing was a comically large cigar.
“What do you want from me?” Tim demanded, making a show of pulling against his restraints. Of course, he could easily get out if he wanted to, but one of the many annoyances of being kidnapped as a civilians was having to act helpless and scared.
The mobster stepped closer. “I heard a rumor that you’re planning to open up another one of your Neon Knights facilities down in Old Gotham. Is that right?”
Tim’s stomach dropped. This kidnapping definitely wasn’t about getting a ransom payout.
"Why do you want to know?” he replied.
Al narrowed his eyes. “That’s my territory, kid. Recruitment’s been hard enough with all the masked psychos running around. I don’t need some silver-spooned brat coming in and fillin’ the young people’s heads with stupid ideas stemming from unfounded optimism. So I’m gonna ask ya real nicely to back off. What do ya say?”
Miraculously, Tim was able to resist bringing out the Robin Sass™. Instead, he put on his best “civilian trying to be brave” face and simply answered, “No.”
“You think just because your daddy is Bruce Wayne that you’re untouchable?” The mobster growled, grabbing Tim by the shirt collar. “You are nothing but an insignificant annoyance. And I don’t take kindly to annoyances. Boys, throw him in.”
At their boss’s command, the two henchmen grabbed the chair and lifted it up into the air.
“Whoa, hey, you don’t want to do this,” Tim tried to reason. Things were quickly getting out of hand.
Al only smiled at him. “Have fun sleepin’ with the fishes, Mr. Drake,” he jeered. “Someone’ll be back in the morning to collect your body.”
With that, the henchmen threw the chair over the edge of the railing.
Tim hit the water with an impact that almost knocked the breath out of his lungs. His back was definitely going to have hella bruises. He sank until the back of the metal chair hit the floor of the tank. After the initial disorientation wore off, he opened his eyes to see a metal cover slowly rolling over the surface of the water.
He was being trapped.
Tim quickly started freeing himself from the duct tape. His ring kept his gills from appearing, but he could still hold his breath for a good amount of time. Once he was freed, he swam for the surface as quickly as his human legs could propel him.
But it wasn’t fast enough.
The metal cover slammed shut, encasing the tank in darkness. Even worse, the cover was flush against the water’s surface, preventing him from being able to access any air. That meant he only had one option for survival:
He had to take off his ring.
After slipping his ring from his finger, he clipped it to the chain around his neck for safekeeping. Almost immediately, his gills slid open and allowed him to take a deep breath. He transformed fully soon thereafter, his legs disappearing in favor of his blue-finned tail.
That’s when he noticed something was wrong.
The water felt… off. It was like his lungs could only work at half capacity. He scanned his surroundings, thankful his enhanced underwater vision allowed him to see through the darkness, and, sure enough, there wasn’t a single fish swimming around with him.
Because they were all dead.
Dozens of fish littered the floor of the tank. What had killed them all was unclear, but considering this was the only tank not outfitted with an oxygen pump, Tim guessed it had been intentional. He was probably in some kind of quarantine tank designed to isolate and euthanize sick fish.
Which really didn’t bode well for him.
Luckily, his kidnappers hadn’t removed his watch. It contained his civilian emergency beacon so he could let the Bats know he was in actual danger. He just had to hope someone was close enough to get him out of that tank before it was too late.
And judging on how hard it was getting to breathe, he didn’t have much time left.
“Red Hood, Tim’s civilian beacon just went off at a fish hatchery in Old Gotham. I’m sending you the coordinates now. Bruce is stuck at the Manor with my dad waiting on a ransom call, so Orphan will meet up with you en route.”
A fish hatchery? Really? Jason would have laughed, but the mere fact that Tim actually used his emergency beacon meant something was wrong. The kid never used his civilian beacon.
“Copy that, Oracle. ETA ten minutes.”
He made it in eight.
Cass landed on the hatchery’s roof shortly after him. Though her mask covered her face, Jason could tell his sister was worried. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same.
“O, do you have eyes on the inside?” Jason asked.
“Security cameras are down. Probably sabotaged by whoever took Tim. I’m working on getting them back online now. The hatchery is closed on weekends, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the building besides Tim and whoever took him. Just be careful and let me know if you need backup.”
“You got it. We’ll let you know what we find.”
They went in through the window. At first, they didn’t see anything amiss. The warehouse lights were off, and the only living things to be seen were the hundreds of fish swimming about in the massive tanks. There was no sign of Tim or his kidnappers anywhere.
Maybe they were in the back office?
“There,” Cass said, pointing at one of the tanks. It stuck out among the rest with its bright red rim. It was also the only one with its cover on.
The kidnappers must have dumped Tim and ran.
“Well, at least he can breathe underwater,” Jason muttered as they ran towards the tank. He couldn’t help but feel relieved. Tim had probably pressed his beacon because he couldn’t risk GCPD seeing him in all of his scaly glory. Not because he was actually in danger.
Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived.
“Jason,” Cass breathed.
The word QUARANTINE was painted in huge white letters on the outside of the tank. And sitting beside it were barrels with ominous red warning labels on them.
“Rotenone,” Jason cursed, his heart rate skyrocketing with each passing second. “It’s a piscicide.”
Way ahead of him as usual, Cass had already pressed the button to retract the metal cover.
Jason scrambled up the ladder. As soon as the opening was big enough, he dove into the water. Through the lenses of his helmet, he could see dead fish covering the floor– dozens and dozens of dead fish.
Then his eyes found Tim.
His little brother, still dressed in the Jack White t-shirt he'd worn for Sunday brunch, was drifting motionless at the bottom of the tank.
Jason swam as quickly as his full tactical gear allowed. When he finally reached Tim, he grabbed his brother around the waist and propelled them both to the surface.
Orphan was waiting at the top of the ladder for them.
Together, they heaved Tim out of the tank and lowered him down the ladder. Jason checked for a pulse and almost cried with relief when he found one. But while it was there, it was scarily faint.
“Timmers, can you hear me?” Jason called while gently shaking his brother’s shoulder. Tim didn’t respond. He didn’t even open his eyes. His skin was horribly pale and tainted with scattered patches of an angry red rash. And his scales – usually a shimmering, bright blue – looked dull and lifeless.
“Not good,” Cass shook her head in dismay.
Jason reached for his comm. “Oracle, we found him. He was stuck in a fish tank where the kidnappers left him to drown. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if they hadn’t dumped him in the one tank poisoned with rotenone. What do we do?”
“Shit. Is he breathing?” Oracle demanded, her frantic typing audible over the line.
Cass leaned over her brother’s chest and listened. “Barely,” she reported grimly. Tim’s lips were twinged a cyanotic blue, and his chest shuddered with each labored breath. It was a horribly familiar picture for Jason. Catherine Todd had looked very similar as she’d been dying of overdose. He hadn’t been able to save her, but he’d be damned if he failed to save his little brother.
“He needs to be decontaminated immediately,” Barbara ordered. “The articles I’m seeing say to get him into clean, oxygenated water. Then look around for methylene blue and potassium permanganate. Both of those are supposed to help counteract rotenone toxicity.”
Jason scanned the area around them. There was a smaller, empty tank not too far from them.
“Orphan, go look for the chemicals Oracle mentioned. There’s a supply closet over there. I’ll get Tim into some water.”
Cass nodded immediately and started running.
“C’mon, Timmy, not like this,” Jason prayed as he gathered his little brother in his arms. Times like these made him thankful for his werewolf strength. Tim’s merfolk form was much heavier than his human, and it was super bulky and awkward on top of that. He rushed over to the tank and gently laid Tim in. Then he turned on the water spout and cranked the oxygen pump to the highest setting.
“Hood, Nightwing and Spoiler are en route to your location. Any changes?”
Jason took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. “Not really. He’s unconscious and unresponsive. I got him into an empty tank, and it’s filling with fresh water now. Cass is looking for the stuff you mentioned.”
Oracle took in a deep breath. “Okay. Just keep me posted.”
The tank had just finished filling when Cass came running over with two bottles.
“Found them,” she said, handing them over to Jason.
Jason read the labels on the back of each bottle and poured the appropriate amount of each into the tank.
God, he hoped they weren’t too late.
Minutes ticked by like hours. Jason and Cass frequently took turns checking Tim’s pulse and breathing just to make sure he was still alive.
Tim still hadn’t moved when Dick and Stephanie arrived.
“How is he?” Dick demanded.
Jason glanced over at the unconscious merman. “The same. His pulse is weak, and his breaths are shallow and labored. Hopefully, this stuff starts working soon.”
“What are we supposed to do until then?” Stephanie asked. “From the research I did on the way over here, it can take hours or even days of treatment for a fish to recover from rotenone toxicity. And that’s if they recover. We can’t exactly leave him here like this. The police are looking for him.”
Shit. She had a point.
Anyone could walk in at any moment. They had to get Tim out of there before he was exposed.
“The real question is, do we treat him like a fish or like a human?” Dick countered. “Like, should we dry him off and take him to the hospital? Or will the water be enough to fix him? Oracle, how toxic is rotenone to humans?”
Oracle’s voice crackled to live in Jason’s comm. “According to my research, rotenone poisoning is rare in humans. It mostly causes GI symptoms if it’s accidentally ingested. But if it’s inhaled, it can cause respiratory distress. It can also cause seizures, hypotension, and metabolic acidosis. Treatment mainly involves supportive care as there is currently no known antidote.”
It was a tough call to make. Tim had been in the medicated water for about fifteen minutes already, and there had been no visible change. But since the poison had entered his body through his gills, should the cure be administered the same way?
If only there was a merdoctor of some kind they could consult. He’d have to talk to Garth later.
“My vote is we put his ring back on and take him to the hospital,” Stephanie spoke up. “There’s a lot more interventions they can perform there as apposed to dumping some chemicals in a fish tank and hoping for the best. If he crashes here, we won’t be able to do anything about it. Plus, human anatomy is less susceptible to rotenone toxicity, so he has a better chance of survival in that form.”
That made sense to Jason. And Stephanie was Leslie’s apprentice, so out of the four of them, she had by far the most medical knowledge.
Dick must have been thinking along similar lines, because he nodded. “That sounds to me like as good a plan as any. We’ll call an ambulance and send the cops this way, but I think it would be best if only one person stayed with Tim until then. There might be questions if four Bats just happened to stumble upon the missing Wayne heir.”
“I’ll stay,” Jason volunteered. “There’s a lot of mob activity in this area, so I can say I found him while investigating the hatchery as a front.”
“GCPD and first responders are en route,” Oracle announced. “ETA is five minutes. You guys better get going.”
Dick helped Jason fish Tim out of the tank. This time, the boy groaned, but he never opened his eyes. Jason was just thankful for any kind of response at this point. It gave him hope that Tim had a chance.
They found Tim’s ring on the chain around his neck. When they slid it onto his finger, his tail and fins disappeared within seconds, leaving a still-soaked, yet human Timothy Drake.
“Keep him safe,” Cass ordered, squeezing Jason’s shoulder.
Jason cradled Tim’s head in his lap. “Always. I’ll catch up with you guys at the hospital later. Until then, I’ll do my best to make sure Timmy keeps breathing.”
Tim faded in and out of consciousness over the next few hours:
In.
Jason, as Red Hood, held him tightly as the sounds of sirens drew closer.
Out.
In.
An oxygen mask was pressed against his face as medics swarmed him.
Out.
In.
“Start a bicarb drip to counteract his acidosis. His pH is 6.94 with a bicarb of 9.”
Out.
In.
“Tim, I’m right here. I’m right here, son.”
Out.
In.
“He’s apneic. Call the respiratory therapist. We’re gonna have to intubate him.”
Out.
When he finally woke up (like, really woke up), Tim had no idea what had happened or how much time had passed. The first thing his brain registered was sterile white sheets, which told him he was in the hospital. Prongs from a nasal cannula pressed into his nostrils and provided him with supplemental oxygen. An IV was placed in his forearm, and wires from presumably a cardiac monitor snaked out of the pocket of his hospital gown. A quick mental scan of his body revealed a very sore throat along with a headache and aching, throbbing pains pulsating throughout his body, centering around his back. It felt like the Joker had used him for crowbar practice.
“Tim?”
Someone was holding his hand. Tim finally gathered the strength to look up and was met with the worried gaze of his father. Bruce looked rough – the dark bags underneath his eyes showcased his lack of sleep. His button-up shirt was wrinkled, which told Tim he hadn’t been home in at least a day or so. Alfred never would have let him leave the Manor like that.
“B-Bruss?”
Dang. His voice was wrecked – as if he’d swallowed a bunch of sandpaper.
Bruce gave him a small, relieved smile as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Tim winced.
“You’ve got some pretty nasty bruising,” his father grimaced in sympathy. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Flashes of fragmented memories danced behind his vision, creating a puzzle he had no idea how to solve.
“‘M not sure,” Tim muttered in defeat. “Ev’rythin’s fuzzy.”
Bruce nodded, as if he had expected as much. “The doctor said you probably wouldn’t remember a lot. Five days ago, you were kidnapped while walking to the movies and taken to a fish farm. The man responsible, a mobster named Scotty Grimes, was angry that you’d chosen Old Gotham for the next branch of Neon Knights. When you refused to back off, he had his men throw you into one of the fish tanks. You were duct taped to a metal chair at the time and dropped fifteen feet.”
Yikes. No wonder he was so sore. Wait… did he say five days?
Without giving Tim time to respond, his father continued. “Grimes and his men trapped you underwater with the tank’s metal lid then left you to drown. Of course, under normal conditions, you wouldn’t have been in any real danger from that, but they threw you into the quarantine tank, which had been heavily treated with the piscicide rotenone. By the time Jason and Cass found you, you were already unconscious and in respiratory distress. Thankfully, they were able to neutralize some of the toxin’s effects by putting you in clean water medicated with methylene blue and potassium permanganate. Their quick intervention gave you enough time to get to the hospital. You likely wouldn’t have survived without it.
“That being said, you were still unstable and went into respiratory failure shortly after you were admitted, which forced them to intubate you. You were extubated earlier this morning and weaned off the sedatives. The doctors are optimistic you’ll make a full recovery, but you really had us all worried, bud.”
Tim blinked slowly. That was a lot to process. He was used to villains coming after him as Red Robin, but Tim Drake? Not so much. And to think that his merfolk anatomy simultaneously saved his life and almost killed him… it made him dizzy.
And that wasn’t even touching the fact that he had been intubated for five entire days.
“G-Grimes?” he questioned.
Bruce’s eyes flashed with disgust. “Red Hood and Spoiler caught him the day after you were attacked. He’s in Blackgate now awaiting trial.”
Relief bloomed in Tim’s chest. At least the man wouldn’t be able to come after him again.
It wasn’t long after that before Tim’s eyelids grew heavy. He’d wanted to stay awake until his siblings arrived but quickly realized it was a losing battle.
“Get some rest, Tim,” Bruce whispered, carding his hand through Tim’s hair. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
The reassurance that Batman wasn't going to leave his side was all Tim needed to give in to the beckoning darkness.