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Tim sighed, the day was never ending. He looked at his email and winced, he then clicked his calendar and closed his eyes to prevent further self harm.
Tim internally groaned. Lucius was on a very badly needed vacation. The poor man deserved one after the year he's been through. He deserved 3 weeks away from the grim darkness of Gotham. Unfortunately this left Tim alone at the helm of the multi-national multi-billion dollar organization. Tim was beyond annoyed that Bruce who had promised to help while Lucius was away bailed. He should have known better, if there was anything that Bruce Wayne did, it was get out of work at Wayne Enterprises. Bruce claimed that there was an emergency and he needed to be off world, but when he checked with Oracle, she said that there weren't any emergencies logged.
Tim sighed, he really should have known better but being optimistic about Bruce was something that was built into him. It was fundamentally a part of him and was no way he wouldn't ever not have hope that Bruce would come through.
"Heh, fooled again," Tim thought to himself, almost amused that he fell for it again.
Tim looked down at the piles of paper surrounding him and groaned.
"I should have died in the Desert." He muttered ruefully to himself imagining for a second the peace of dark nothingness before blinking himself out of that train of thought.
Tim paused, waiting a second for Tam who has a 6th sense whenever Tim even thought about their desert experience to come smack him with a folder. Oh yeah, she was on the trip with her dad. Tim had to bribe her to go, saying it didn't count against her vacation hours.
Tim whined looking back down at his desk, the sheer amount of papers scattered was almost obscene. Tim deserved rights, rights that didn't include looking at random shit that the facilities team found in the basement that no one knew anything about. Tim only had been working here for 2 years, why the fuck would he know about ancient documents and random objects from the 70s. They should ask Kathy, she's been here for as long as anyone can remember. Tim once tried to look through the HR files for her employee records but the harpies in HR (he swears he saw claws and feathers on some of them) refused to let him.
As much as Tim would like to procrastinate on dealing with these and shoving them onto Bruce in vengeance. He unfortunately can't see the surface of his desk anymore and placing things on it was getting to be a bit precarious. Tim went to grab his mug to take a sip but when he did, it ruined the stability of the piles and everything started falling like dominoes. Tim jolted, trying to not let anything fall off the desk, but managed to accidentally spill and drop his coffee mug onto the floor. Not to mention the papers got scattered everywhere and completely out of order…fuck there goes Tim's night, to rearrange everything back into place.
Tim exhaled deeply, and bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the mug. After he dealt with the ceramic, he would clean up the coffee on the floor. As Tim was mindlessly picking up the big pieces, the mug decided to take revenge on him and cut his hand quite a bit at unrevealed jagged piece.
"Ugh…. fuck everything is going amazing for me today." Tim dropped the piece back and let it break even more in his own petty form of revenge. "I'll just get facilities in here to deal with it, I am not putting in a workplace incident report, fuck that shit, not after the robot arm incident." Tim mumbled to himself getting back up, attempting to and failing to staunch his bleeding hand.
"This is gonna be a bitch during patrol, not that I can even go on patrol tonight because of this paper bullshit." Tim gestured to the disaster on his desk to himself, completely forgetting his bleeding hand. Blood managing to fly all over the papers on the desk.
"Oh fuck is that is a biohazard? Am I going to have to hunt these down on the intranet and print new versions? I'd rather jump out of the window and let Bruce use my death as an excuse for both of us to get out of it then use the intranet and printer." Tim feels the remnants of his sanity disappearing along with the rest of his time as he finishes his sentence, burying his head in his hands, ignoring his profusely bleeding hand getting blood all over his face.
The lights flicker and Tim lifts his head and he looks up in disbelief, "Are you kidding me? What else could happen to fuck with my day, I should not have said that."
Tim can feel the temperature drop and a weird electrical hum in the air.
"Fuck my life, I jinxed myself." Tim whined to himself as he hears something,
T̶̞̞̩͙̫̘̖̈́̎́̃̎̓̍̽́̓̕͝͠͝ͅh̷̼͈͈͎̳̘̗̘͈̘̩͕̀̇̈́̊̄̅̈́̒͐͋̀̂̚͠e̸̢̨̫͕̜̠̦̼̜̳̜͖͈̜̞̯̍̉͑̊̿̅͒ ̴͈̝̣̩͖̞͖̦͋͌̄̌̍͆̒̆̕͜͜s̵̺͙̝͎͍̳̟̟̞͖͔͕̓̄̅̑̾̐̋́̍̏̈́̄͒̽̇̓͝a̷͓̱͎̺̐͂̈̚c̶̨̨̭͔̠̜̭͎͈̗̺̹̖̣̰̩͍̀͒̆̒̔̇͋̂̑̒͒ͅr̷̢͙͙͎̠̹̜̖͙̼͈͔̞͕̫̗̈̃̿̓̓̈͊̂̎͂͋͑̀̚͝͝i̸̧̞̹̟͕̖̯͗̇̐̒͊͌͗̿̾̎͘͠f̶̨̹̘̝̪͈̗̔̾̽̓̀̑͜ḭ̸̢̥̤͓̮̲̪̲̩̣̥̗͓̯̇͆͗́̌̊́͜ͅç̶̧̧͓̘͙̘͖͚̑̈́̆͛̌́͐̂̽̽͛͑̅͘ē̵̛̜͌͂̅̃̔ ̵̳̳̻͖̭̝̱͖̊̉͒̃̅̒̍̆͌̌̽̒̊̒̈́̒͌͘h̶͇̜̣̺̭̠͓̘͙͕͘͜ͅą̵̧̧̫̳͉̣̠̬͙̗̤̈́͐̌̈́̋̓̋͛̐̍̕ş̶̩͙̰͉̟̩̰̥͓̜̭̥̤̼̒̊̓͗͂̏͗̇̓̃͌̐̓̈̚̚͜͝ ̷̡̥͖̬͈͍͒͗b̷̢̗̥̻͈͈͔̠̱͓̙͈̬̖̤̽̒ͅę̴̩̝̰͚̪̮̪͍̦̐̉ͅę̴͍̺̩̺̐̈́̀̄͝ń̸̡̻̗͆͑̃́͆͆͑̀͌̇̔͊͑͊̈́͝ ̸̜̥̯̫̩̙̙͇͌̿̋̿̈́̍́̏͌̾̈͝͝ṟ̷̢̘͓͎͔̣̪̘̺̬͇̩̋̀̀͌̒͝e̵̥͚̼̙̲̥̟̾͛̌̓̈̏̈́̈́̆̈́̆̽̈́̅̚͝c̶̘͚̭̫̯̭͇̼̳͇̹͉͔̟̮̰͋͋̆̑̍̆̎̅̀͋͋̿̆̇̓̋͝͝ë̴̢͖̩͔̬͍͉͙̥̠̼͔͕́̀͌̔͊͆̅͋͐̈́́̏̿͘̚͝ͅį̸̧̺͙̺̱͌̋̋̉̏̋͛̾̈́̒͝͠͝v̴̢̻̹̳̼̭̪̽̀́̎̀́̀͑̈́̽̕ͅę̶̜͕̩̞̼͇̬̙͔̺͚̹̪̓̾̐͋̇͛̃͘̕̚͜d̴̨̪̮̟͕̳͈̻͉͔͎̆̾̆̈́͒́̈́̀̓̾̚͜,̷̺̲̗̿̽ ̶̧̢̡̯̞̤̪͖͔̼̮̙̟̳̀̈̋͗̎́̔̿̅̒̋̀͘̚͠t̴̢̛͖͕̺͖̱͙̼̩̠͙͓͎͉̩̥͉̍̆͐͛̌̆̋̿̈́̒͗̿͘͝h̶̡̛̲̋̉̾̽̒̈́͐͗̀̂̇͂̅̋̄̆e̶̡̛͍̖̹̪̦͗̓̾̍̓͑̆̀̀͒͝ ̶̨̛̲̠̪͖͍̤̰̳̟̽̏̀c̵̹͎̭̬̠̜̪͌ǫ̷̛͙̻̳͍̘͎̖̹̀̑̓̈́̒́̀̅͘͝ͅn̴̨̦̤͕̥͇͓͉̗̜͓͆̈́̍̂̈́̍̽̅̽̑̓͊͘͘͠t̸̥͓̹̓̐r̵̢̹̞̲͈̣̠͎͍̾̊ã̴͕̥̦͚̭̣̋c̸̡͇͓̩̼͙̻͇̼̬͉̻̪͎͗̊̿͑̓͐̆̈́t̶̨͇̮̝̲̳͎̖̝͖͓̙̝̲̯̭̆̈́͋̉̄̊́́͑͂̄͘ ̷̢̧͔̲̱͇͉̪̤̼̹̤̣̥͊̈́̆͜͝ỉ̴̡̢̨̛̜̣̺͇̮̖̤̰͖̹̔͑͂̇̌͛͛̓̂̇̒̚͝s̷̭̤̩̠̫̬̖̮̺̖̜͐ͅͅ ̴̦̟̠̺͉̖̮͙̦̀̌̊̒̌͌̋͛̈̀͘̕̕͝s̶͎̙͈͕̣͇͋͂̈̍́̿̌̍̌͌́̏̑͑̚͘̕͝ė̵̼̐̌̆̌̈́̑͛̍͐̔͂̎̓̂͘͝ą̸͕̖͎̳͚̘̝̤͚̦̞͎͕̑̈́͒̏̉̊̎̋̕͜ͅļ̵͉̠̲̖̥̬̩̤̣̗̠̂̓̀̍̆̃͛͋̊̌̒̔͑͛̋̕͝e̷̛̪̜͍͕̩̞̪̳͈̰͓̮̬̯͍͛͊͊̀̀͗̈͆͂̈͑̓͘͘͝ͅ
"What? I didn't understand?" Tim questions out loud.
"S̵o̴n̷ ̴o̵f̷ ̸W̶a̴y̶n̴e̴,̶ ̸y̶o̷u̵ ̵h̶a̸v̶e̷ ̵a̷g̷r̷e̸e̶d̴ ̶t̷o̶ ̷o̷u̸r̶ ̵t̴e̷r̸m̴s̷."
"Wait did you say son of Wayne - how did I recognise that, either way I'm not his son. I'm not a Wayne!" Tim yells.
Suddenly a figure appears in front of him.
"Dude adoption totally counts."
Tim can't even deny his scream.
"Whoa dude calm down."
"Who the fuck are you, what the fuck are you?" Tim points his still bleeding hand at the fae creature in front of him (what he has white hair, pointed ears and is unworldly pretty, clearly a fae!)
"I am the being you just signed a contract with, it was for a Wayne son, and you are one."
"I'm not a Wayne, I got emancipated, I'm no one's son."
"Okay Edgelord, you were still adopted, legality doesn't mean shit."
"Edgelord? What the fuck."
"Listen, you bled on the contract, its done, there is nothing either of us can do."
"What contract?"
"This one." A paper floats off the desk into the fae's hand.
"I didn't even know that was there, what does it say?"
"…so this is clearly going to end in flames. You're coming with me, you disaster of a human."
"What? I have things to do, responsibilities to myself and others."
"You have blood all over your face, your still bleeding, your unusually pale, and look like the wind could blow you over." The fae snaps their fingers and Tim freezes against his will.
"Better, before I put you in a bubble, you're going to get checked out by healers I trust . This is so that I can look away for a moment and you won't just die, we're going now."
Tim can't even speak to argue or protest against that weirdly accurate statement.
The Fae waves their hand and the pair disappear into thin air. The only sign of anything unusual happening is with the mess of the desk along with the remains of the spilled coffee and broken mug.