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This building was so dark, it was really making Tim’s job more difficult. If his flashlight’s battery hadn’t gone out a few minutes ago, this recon would be a piece of cake, but no. He was out here with only one flashlight and no backup batteries. He didn’t even have his nightvision-capable domino mask with him. He’d settled for just a plain hoodie and simple mask, no frills, since basically everything else had a tracker on it. The things he did to investigate his cases…
He could leave, get more prepared before coming back, but that would mean missing his only window to do this without Dick figuring out he was gone. Dick had been left in charge while Bruce was away, and Tim didn’t want Dick to tell Bruce that Tim was out on his own. Bruce didn’t need to know everything Tim did and neither did Dick. He could handle himself, he’d been doing it for years.
Besides, this was more of just a small hunch really. Tim could handle clearing a building on his own, despite what Batman and Nightwing seemed to think. Tim wasn’t a baby. He was a smart kid.
At least he didn’t have much longer to go—this second sublevel was the deepest and he was almost done anyways. He could finish his sweep using the dim green lighting from the exit sign further down the hallway. Not ideal, but fine. The hallway was definitely clear, now he just had a few more rooms to check out.
Tim pushed on the first door on his right but it stuck. It didn’t actually open until he gave it a hard shove with his shoulder. Tim was greeted by more darkness, worse than in the hallway, but if he squinted he could just make out the opposite wall. The room wasn’t that big, but he needed to check it off. It would probably be beneficial to look for a lightswitch.
The door slammed shut behind him, plunging the room into even more darkness than before. He walked in slowly, hands brushing against the wall as he felt around, but there wasn’t anything on the wall by the door. Hm.
Hand leaving the wall, he stepped further into the room. His eyes were starting to adjust a little bit, at least. He could sort of make out the four corners and a pile of old boxes. The room was probably cl—
SNAP.
Searing hot pain tore through his leg. Tim fell to the floor with a scream, elbows thudding against the concrete. The sudden collapse caused something lodged in his leg to shift, making the pain even worse.
He couldn't breathe. His hands curled into fists on the smooth, cool concrete floor, knuckles picking up a fine layer of dirt or dust or something as he gasped for breath, blinking hard and trying to get his bearings amidst the pain and the darkness.
His leg had been caught in—what the hell was this? Through his pained fuzzy vision, he tried to assess the situation and oh God, what was in his leg? It looked like a fucking bear trap, two arcs of large sharp teeth piercing through his pants and into his skin, tearing straight down to the bone, setting his leg on fire.
He gasped and blinked back pained tears—it didn’t seem like it was bleeding much yet; everything was being held in by the jagged teeth. He needed to get out of here before someone found him.
Now was not the time to freak out.
The trap was clearly set up by someone to nab someone else, though Tim couldn’t tell if it was targeted or just meant to catch whatever poor unlucky soul didn’t notice it sitting in the dark. With a jolt of complete and utter shame, Tim realized that the thing hadn’t even been that well hidden. It was just in the dark. In the middle of the room. Fresh tears burned in his eyes from the mixture of immense physical pain and humiliation. He promised himself that whenever Bruce found out about this, the trap was to be described as very well-hidden.
Regardless of where in the room the trap had been set, someone had set it and would be coming back to check on it. Tim reached for the collapsable bo staff on his hip and his fingers were met with an empty holster. Something had clattered when he fell. Tim cursed to himself, realizing now that it had been his bo staff. Bruce always told him to keep the holster clasp closed, but Tim never listened to him—he wanted to be able to prioritize speed in an emergency and not have to fumble with the damn thing.
Squinting, Tim could just about make out the dark shape of his bo staff a little ways away from him on the floor. It was just out of reach, but if he was really careful about it… Hesitantly, he began to pull his body across the floor, keeping his movements as small and careful as possible.
It didn’t matter. The tiniest movement sent fresh pain shooting up through his leg and he stopped, crying out. If he could maybe just push through the pain… but then the second jolt almost made his pass out and yeah, he wasn’t getting his bo staff without getting out of this trap first.
Tim took a few deep breaths and examined the trap as best as he could with such dim lighting. It was weird. There were two boxes attached to the base, each connected to one another and several mechanisms on the jaws of the trap, with wires. The smaller box had a blinking red dot on it and was beeping softly—if Tim had to guess it was some sort of lock? Or something that otherwise controlled the mechanisms keeping the jaws shut. He furrowed his eyebrows. The dot wasn’t much light, but it was something.
Slowly and gently, he reached into his pocket to grab his flashlight. It was dead but not totally useless. If he could angle the mirrored flashlight head over the blinking light, he could get just a little more output, then maybe he could inspect the trap a little easier.
It was a very small hint of satisfaction when his plan worked, amplifying the light just enough to get a better view of the boxes.
The first one didn’t have any buttons on it, just a flat panel attached with screws. Tim made a mental note to start carrying around a screwdriver with him when he went out on solo trips. Screwdrivers and extra batteries.
He wasn’t so sure what the larger box did. It also had nothing but a panel that could be opened with a screwdriver. Trying to figure out the minutia was pointless in his current state—he didn’t have time to figure out the precise inner workings of each component, he needed to get out of this fast.
Surely the trap would have some way to open besides whatever was in those boxes under those panels—it obviously wouldn’t be too noticeable since this was clearly meant to catch a person, presumably with opposable thumbs, but he could figure this out. He gently ran his shaking hands over the base of the trap, trying to feel out anything that seemed useful.
His fingers found what felt like an engraving. He clenched his jaw, doing his best to lean in and squint. It was dark and hard to see, but he could just about make out a shape etched into the metal.
With a start, he realized it was letters. H…A…H…A…
This was The Joker’s trap.
Shit shit, shit. So the smaller box was a tracker or a silent alarm or something bad. And with The Joker’s track record, the bigger box was probably a bomb. Tim needed to move. He was good at running, he was not good at being a sitting duck with nowhere to go, especially when The Joker was after him. He couldn’t let the Joker kill Robin twice.
Panic started to set in. Maybe he could figure out a way to lever or maneuver its jaws open somehow, but he needed to figure out if it was at all loose first. Hands shaking, he grabbed both sides of the trap and pulled gingerly. It didn’t budge. He pulled a little bit harder. He felt something in the trap shift. The smaller box whirred and—
A fresh new wave of white-hot pain shot through his leg and all the way up to his chest as the trap clamped down even harder. He screamed again, unable to hold it in, falling sideways onto the floor. He clawed at his knee just above the trap’s sharp teeth, biting back another scream.
Fuck.
He could feel hot tears running down his cheeks—how embarrassing. The only upside of being trapped down here all alone was that no one was there to see him cry.
Pressing the side of his face hard into the smooth cool floor below his, Tim let himself cry for just a moment, tears turning silent besides the occasional sniffle. The concrete was soothing against his cheek. It was the only nice thing right now that kept him grounded in reality. He just needed to lie down like this for a minute to get his bearings back and think.
A warm wet feeling dripped down his leg and, heart racing, Tim risked another look. A small amount of blood had seeped through his pants after the second chomp, making Tim’s stomach hurt and his head all woozy.
Embarrassment be damned. He really wanted Dick here, or even Bruce. But Dick wasn’t here, just Tim and a bear trap and probably The Joker on his way to collect his catch. Would he kill him? Would he leave him to starve or bleed out? Was this it? A lonely life to be cut short just as he was starting to feel cared about for the first time ever in his life? The thought made his cry a little harder. He wanted Dick to be here.
A sound in the distance echoed through the hallway—it sounded heavy, like doors opening. Tim lifted his head. If it was The Joker, he was screwed. He hoped it was Dick chasing him down, but hope didn’t do well in Gotham.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing closer and closer. That’s too heavy to be The Joker. Had someone heard Tim’s screams? Were they coming to hurt him or to help? Tim held his breath, trying not to get his hopes up too much. There was plenty of evil besides The Joker to worry about. Tim kept his eyes fixed on the door, heart thundering in his chest.
The footsteps stopped just outside the door and Tim held his breath.
The door creaked open and into the room first came the light of a flashlight, sweeping through the room.
Through the door walked… someone. Before Tim could get a good look at them—only catching the vague silhouette of a blocky figure too large to be the Joker, the flashlight shined directly onto him and he had to blink away, wincing. The flashlight hovered on his for a second or two and he blinked at it. It could be Dick! Tim scrubbed the tears away from his cheeks quickly, hesitating to call out Dick’s name. Tim wasn’t in his Robin costume so he didn’t want to call out for Nightwing either… He’d have to settle for a more neutral greeting.
“...Who’s there?” The person didn’t respond, making Tim’s confidence waiver. “Hello?”
The flashlight lowered off of Tim’s face but he still couldn’t see—his eyes had to adjust to the darkness again. The figure approached him, Tim flinching slightly when they got within kicking distance. But the figure didn’t kick him, just knelt down by the trap, shining their flashlight on it.
“Hoping for Dickiebird?” said a rough modulated voice—definitely not Dick.
Red Hood.
Caught off guard, Tim tried to back away from him. The last time he’d seen Jason months ago had been…professional, at least, but Tim had been fully armed and kitted out as Robin, flanked by Batman and Nightwing. The last time he and Jason had been alone together…
He remembered the feeling of falling—of being pushed—over the railing and the sickening snap of bone as he landed—back at Titans Tower. Now Jason had him isolated, unable to call for help, leg crippled once again.
The same leg.
Tim tried to be subtle reaching for his bo staff, but it was helplessly out of reach. Even slightly jostling the trap had him biting his lip, but he needed—
Jason chuckled and stepped over Tim, casually picking up the bo staff and giving it a little flourish with one hand.
“Want this?” Jason teased, extending the bo staff almost to Tim’s hand before swiping it out of reach and poked him in the ribs. “Skill issue.”
“Stop it!” Tim snapped, swatting the bo staff away.
Jason only sighed in response, shining the flashlight on Tim’s face again. Rude.
“When did this happen?” He rapped the tip of the bo staff on the bloody concrete by Tim’s leg.
Tim jumped and hissed at the fresh wave of pain that brought. He needed a plan, some way to contact Dick or Bruce or someone. If he started yelling for Superboy, could Connor get there before Jason could shoot him?
“Replacement. Come on. There’s not a lot of time to work here and I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”
Tim blinked hard. “What?”
Jason scoffed and shone the flashlight back on the trap before kneeling down, hand running over its base to search for clues, the same way Tim had earlier. “Come on, chop chop. Or, in this case, chomp chomp.” He looked at Tim, chuckling.
Tim only stared back at him incredulously.
“Tough crowd.” Jason sighed and rolled the bo staff out of reach. “Okay, maybe you hit your head, but when someone is trying to help you, it’s generally a good idea to cooperate. Now, when did this happen?”
Helping? “Um-I—” Tim shook his head, trying to regain his composure. “I don’t know. A few minutes ago maybe.”
Jason hummed as he continued to inspect the trap. His gloves brushed over the same inscription Tim had found earlier. Jason went still as a corpse, any trace of humor vanishing. Tim watched him closely.
“Do you seriously not have a screwdriver?” Jason murmured as he pulled a mini screwdriver from his belt. His voice was remarkably tense compared to his earlier jovial tone. He fumbled a little to hold the flashlight while he unscrewed the panel.
When Tim realized what he was doing, he nearly jumped, remembering what had happened the last time Tim had tried to mess with the trap. “Careful!”
Jason ignored him and very slowly pried the panel off, revealing messy wiring. Tim’s heart jumped into his throat, his bomb theory suddenly seeming a lot more relevant.
“Jason?”
“Hm.”
“I think the other box is a bomb.”
Jason drew in a deep, slow breath to calm himself. “Telling the same damn joke twice…” Jason lowered his head. “You may be right. Unfortunately.”
He stood up and walked over to Tim’s bo staff he’d rolled across the room. Jason swung the staff over his shoulders and draped his arms over it before crouching in front of Tim.
“Replacement, look at me.”
Tim blinked behind his domino mask and looked at the Red Hood’s helmet, which somehow was able to convey the seriousness behind Jason’s tone and Tim felt he had no choice but to shut up and listen.
“You,” he started slowly and quietly with a dangerous undertone in his voice. “You need protection. I am giving you back your bo staff solely so that you might have a fighting chance if someone other than me comes through those doors.”
Tim nodded silently, dumbfounded.
“I will be back. If you try to hit me, any chance of your rescue is gone. Got it?”
Tim nodded slowly.
“I’m serious, if you think about trying to hit me, I will turn around and walk back out those doors so fast it will be like I was never here in the first place, and any chance of rescue or seeing Batman or Dickiebird again will disappear just as quickly as I do. Do you understand, Replacement?”
Tim nodded again, though he wondered if these were empty threats or if they were actually serious. Tim wouldn’t put it past the Red Hood to leave Tim specifically to die.
Either way, violence against his only potential help right now wasn’t a good idea.“I’m not gonna hit y—”
“I know you’re not gonna. Shut up, I’ll be back.”
He finally handed the staff to Tim and stood up, staring at the boy for a second before turning back towards the doors. And suddenly the reality that Jason was leaving Tim all alone down here hit so hard that Tim actually felt it in his gut.
“W-wait, you’re leaving me?” Tim squeaked.
“My cell doesn’t work down here, and bomb disposal isn’t exactly my strong suit. I’m contacting help. Quiet.”
“But—”
Tim’s protests didn’t matter. Jason was through the doors already, hurrying back down the hall, leaving Tim in the dark with a bo staff and several large knife teeth stuck in his leg.
Tim waited.
And waited.
And waited.
When Jason finally came back holding a piece of paper in one hand with his helmet tucked under his arm, Tim breathed a sigh of relief.
“What is that?”
“Your salvation,” Jason responded dryly. He crossed the room and knelt back down in front of the trap, taking a deep breath. “Replacement?”
“Yes?”
“I need to concentrate. Don’t interrupt me or we’re both dead. Capiche?”
Tim nodded. Jason set the page of hastily scrawled notes on the ground. He glanced over to Tim and handed him the flashlight.
“Hold this. I need to read Alfred’s instructions.”
Tim obliged hesitantly, holding the flashlight over the box so that Jason could see what he was doing. Jason took a deep breath and got to work.
Tim wasn’t sure that he was actually breathing, watching Jason work. Soft clicks and the rustle of paper as Jason checked his notes were the only sound. Tim held the flashlight as still as he could—as if the smallest movement of light could throw Jason off and they’d both be goners.
Again, in Jason’s case.
When Jason finally let out a sigh of relief and sat back, it was unclear how much time had passed. The light on the trap was no longer blinking red and was now a solid green. Tim was still afraid to speak or move, but Jason took the flashlight back and spoke, relief evident in his tone.
“It should be fine to remove now but I warn you—it’s going to hurt.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to pull it open,” Jason stated, matter-of-factly.
Tim flinched at the thought, remembering the first time he tried that. “No.”
The word came out a little more forcefully than he had meant it to, earning an incredulous head tilt from Jason, but thankfully no reprimand. Tim concentrated on softening his tone slightly, not wanting to piss the man off.
“I-I tried that already. It clamped down harder.” Tim’s voice shook, which was frustrating. He was just giving information. Jason didn’t need to know Tim’s emotional status for basic information.
Jason sighed, staring at Tim, seemingly assessing him before speaking. “We have to get this off of you. You need medical attention and I don’t want a lecture for leaving you in here too long. It’ll be easier to get you out of here once this is off your leg.”
The argument was solid. It made sense. That didn’t matter to Tim as the panic slowly built up in his chest.
“N-No. You take it off and I’ll bleed out.” What if that’s his plan? Nope. Not today. Tim bit his lip, thinking of alternatives. “Thanks for your help, but what if you just…leave me here? I can crawl out and—”
Jason scoffed. “What are you going to do? You can barely move.”
“Call an Uber?”
“Replacement. Look at me.” Jason stared him down. “That’s fucking stupid.”
Tim pursed his lips. “It’s not…”
“Do you even have your phone on you?”
Oh. Right, that may be necessary to call an Uber. Funny how all the things necessary to call for help were also all the things necessary to track him when he didn’t want to be tracked.
“...Yes.”
“Okay then. Show me.”
“...No.”
Jason gave Tim a flat look. “I have the same medical training you do, you’re not bleeding out. We have to do this quickly. Do you know what Joker is going to do when he finds Robin in a trap? Because I do.”
That last statement knocked some sense into Tim. Of course he knew this needed to be done. The thought just seemed unbearable after last time. Regardless, he clenched his jaw and exhaled, nodding.
“Okay… Fine”
Jason nodded, slapping his own knee before moving to position himself over the trap, getting the best angle to pull it open. “I’m going to count down from three.”
Before Tim had time to prepare himself mentally, Jason was already grabbing both sides of the trap’s jaw.
“Deep breath, Timmy.”
No. Tim wasn’t ready.
“Three—”
It had hurt so much last time—
“Two—”
Before Jason could say or do anything else, Tim’s panic finally reached its boiling point, a painful jolt of fear running through his chest and into his stomach. His hand shot out and grabbed Jason’s wrist on its own accord.
Jason looked up at Tim, who was suddenly breathing fast, eyes wide.
“No—” Tim knew he shouldn’t have grabbed Jason’s wrist like that, but when he tried to make himself let go, his fingers just wouldn’t respond to his commands. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, trying to find some way to salvage this, or even just explain without seeming like a wimp. “I-I can’t.”
Just when Tim thought Jason was going to yell at him or berate him for lashing out or being a scaredy cat, his surprised expression morphed into something a little softer— or maybe not softer, just more pitying. Jason didn’t really do soft. Regardless, there was still a change in his demeanor. Jason knelt down slightly so he was more on Tim’s level.
“Tim. You’re going to be okay. You need to calm down so I can do this for you.”
Tim blinked, his grip on Jason’s wrist tightening. He slowly shook his head from side to side.
Jason suddenly removed both his hands from the trap and grabbed both sides of Tim’s face, keeping his head still and making Tim look into his eyes. Jason’s expression was serious, but still had a little bit of that softer demeanor about it.
"You're going to be okay. I’m going to get you back to Dick and Alfie, but you need to let me do this first. Nod if you understand.”
Tim swallowed. Slowly, he nodded against Jason’s hands.
“Good. Now lie down.”
He let go of Tim’s face and Tim lowered himself down shakily to lie on the concrete, lying sideways and pressing his face into the cool stone as he waited.
Jason grabbed both sides of the trap and Tim squeezed his eyes shut. Then, without counting down, Jason pulled hard.
Tim gasped in pain. That wasn’t three!
Then everything went black.