Chapter Text
The midnight darkness wrapped around Gotham like a blanket, giving Tim a sheet of cover while he’s perched on the edge of a roof. He lifted his forearm, glancing down at the screen embedded into his suit.
The humidity of the nearby pier laid a thin sheen of moisture over top of him, causing his hair to cling to his forehead. He huffed, looking back towards the building in front of him.
Of course it’s a warehouse by the pier. Why can’t creepy cults ever operate in a well air-conditioned hotel, or a restaurant. Where’s the buffet cult? Why can’t he ever investigate a buffet cult?
His stomach let out a growl.
That explains that train of thought.
He glanced back down at his arm. 1:59. With another sigh, he stood up. He stretched his arm over his head, letting out a breath after a satisfying ‘pop’ echoed around the roof.
He’d caught wind of a new cult operating in Gotham, welcoming people down on their luck to join in on their weekly ‘communal feasts’. Jason had reported a week ago that some of Crime Alley’s homeless population were turning up missing; the older man had wanted to join his investigation — he’s territorial when it comes to Crime Alley — but two nights ago Black Mask had made a move on Hood’s territory, apparently trying to test the waters. So, Tim was on his own tonight.
He technically wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. Jason and the rest of the bats had told him to wait until next week, but they had honestly been grating his nerves lately. Bruce and Dick have been breathing down his neck the last few nights; ‘Tim, start coming to more family brunches’ ‘Tim, stop overworking yourself’ ‘Tim, you need to take a vacation’. As if he wasn’t integral to keeping WE in business and keeping investigations connected and organized. As if he wasn’t needed. As if he wasn’t important. And the rest of the family had just been weird around him lately. It’s like everyone knew something that he didn’t.
So, tonight was for him. It had nothing to do with ‘proving himself’ or ‘being spiteful’. And since it was for him, he took out his comm and called out for the night. If they wanted him to go on vacation, he would. Taking down human trafficking cults was his vacation.
He checked his screen again. 2:01. Show time.
He grabbed his grapple and dropped down without a sound. He shot it outwards, the end hooking onto the edge of the warehouse’s roof.
He pulled it in, a small grin pulling at his lips as the refreshing wind pushed the damp hair out of his face.
With a tucked roll, he landed softly on top of the warehouse. He pocketed his grapple and crouched down, moving quietly towards the roof access door. He had been up here last night to check the lock, it had been an easy pick but opening the door made a loud scrapping sound against the patch of raised ground. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw the brick he had placed still their, letting him quietly open the door and close it behind him.
The stairs went straight down to the floor, the only barrier between him and the cult members being wooden panels along the open side of the staircase.
He stepped down a few steps, glancing out of the gap between the wood to look at the cult’s communal dinner.
The cult had definitely fixed the place up; he’d give them that. The grime and dust on the floor and reachable walls had been scrubbed away, three long tables covered in food sat towards the front door and stretched almost wall to wall. People were chatting idlily, no food had been touched yet. Probably waiting for a leader or something to initiate the dinner. Everyone was dressed in black and green robes except for a handful who wore white and green. His eyes drifted beside the ones in white towards what looked to be a summoning circle with an alter surrounded by flowers, candy, and other items. Yup, cult shit.
He made his way down the rest of the stairs, testing each one for creaks before stepping all the way down.
Towards the last few steps, he heard a repeated ‘clink’ of a glass, signaling everyone to quiet. The chatter quickly slowed to a stop, and Tim peaked between the wood towards one of the white robed figures.
“Hello everyone!” A chipper voice greeted from atop a raised platform, “I don’t see any new faces today, but that’s alright, we’ll get ‘em next time!” The room chuckled lightly; Tim’s eyes narrowed.
“Now, I want to thank you all for coming out, as always. 2 AM dinner isn’t the most ideal, especially for those of use with children, and we always understand when some can’t make it. As always if you need any support, be sure to come to one of our leaders and we’ll find any way we can to support you; be it food, water filters, gas masks, you name it.” The cloaked figure breathed in, putting on a smile.
“Alright, I think I’ve talked long enough,” The room laughed again, “Who’s to say we get on with the summoning and eat?”
Cheers erupted from the tables, a few ‘woo’s thrown out.
Tim set his jaw, reaching behind his back to take out his collapsed staff. The figures in white moved towards the summoning circle. Go time.
“Am I late?” He called, finally moving off the stairs.
Every head in the room turned towards him.
“Ah, got any strawberries left, they’re my favorite.” He teases, making his way towards the front group. The room’s eyes follow him; they definitely outnumber him. Best to try talking first.
“Red Robin,” The figure who had been speaking before smiles warmly, “I’m glad you could make it!”
Tim blinks, pausing in front of the group. “Uh. That— Definitely isn’t the usual response.”
The man chuckles, “I imagine not. I’m not naive enough to think you came for the food, but you’re welcome to it. If you don’t beat us bloody of course,” he jokes. Jokes.
“Thank you? Though that really depends on whether you step away from that circle or not. I’m not sure what you’re trying to summon, but I’ve learned that magic usually means bad news. Especially when what you’re worshipping is called ‘The King’. You’re practically begging for world destruction.”
The man finally frowns, face still soft however, “Ah, yes. We had been wanting destruction and domination originally, but our King showed us the beauty in life and helping others. If you’ll just hear us out, I’m sure you especially would understand. You may even want to join.” Tim glanced behind the man, eyeing the others in white starting the ritual. His face hardens.
“Sorry, I’m not in the market for new hippy cults to join.” His bo extends in his hand as he enters a defensive stance. “I really don’t want to hurt you, man, but I can’t let you summon whatever you’re about to summon.”
The man sighs, looking at him sadly, “Then I apologize profusely for this. We really do look up to you, Red Robin.” He looks up, “Hold him!” The man shouts to the people seated at the table.
“Shit,” Tim hisses, rushing towards the summoning circle in hopes to reach them before the distraction. He smacks the man’s face, throwing him to the floor and giving Tim a path to the other figures in white.
Before he reaches them, his arms are grabbed. He shifts in the hold, throwing the person grabbing him over his shoulder. Just as fast, two more hands replace them. He pivots his feet, swinging his bo behind himself as he turns around.
Every time he fights off one offender, two more replace them, all attempting to hold him down. Eventually a hand pulls his bo staff out of his hands; his fists, however, are just as effective.
A flash erupts from behind him and some of the hands slow down.
Fuck him and this stupid ass plan to raid a cult’s base alone.
In his moment of distraction, the hands finally manage to get hold of him. He’s grappled chest down onto the floor, multiple people pinning him down. It is — unfortunately — very effective.
“Oh— This is, uh— Not what I was expecting to walk in on.” A new voice states, somehow sounding both reversed and normal.
This was such a dumb plan.