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“This no longer sparks joy,” Tim said to himself while embroidering stitches in his latest slash, fortunately not in his dominant arm so he could be neat. He’s become quite artistic at it, thanks to Damian’s adorable efforts at brotherly bonding through ‘oops you got in the way of my katana’. As Dick always said, the poor child doesn’t know any better, stop annoying him, you’re hindering his emotional progress.
Thinking back over all the fun times of family betrayals, stress tests, attempted siblingcides (he’d lost count), scolding, scowls and just plain disapproval for being good at things no one else wanted to do, but demanded be done… you know? The joy factor was distinctly lacking. And that wasn’t even taking into account Gotham’s villains. At least most of them had a reason for kicking him around. And they weren’t all bad. Some of them could be reasoned with and not just Batman grunt at him.
“Time for a vacation,” Tim decided as he went to the Bat computer and transferred most of his money to Swiss banks, and gave Lucius and Tam Fox voting rights to his Wayne Enterprises stock at the same time he reverted CEO back to Bruce. Maybe they’d keep him from tanking the company.
He put his Red Robin suit in the laundry, but kept his bo staff. It might come in handy. He waved goodbye to the bats as he drove out of the Batcave for the last time, while cheerfully singing that song that Cary Grant sang when he was in the movie with a lot of booze on a tropical island, trying to avoid being caught up in World War II.
Cary had the right idea. He just didn’t have enough money to do it right. It was good that Tim had enough money, and had planned for his future.
Tim had bought a tropical island a while back. He got it cheap because it had very little fresh water, and the vegetation had been denuded by invasive rats and wild pigs. Also there were a lot of sharks in the atoll which was surrounded by coral too jagged to let small boats reach the shore.
It was a little bit of a fixer-upper, which was fine. Kon-El didn’t mind flying Tim and his supplies and the rest of his people from the cargo ship he’d bought and anchored off shore.
Killer Croc was happy to scare off most of the sharks, and he loved roast boar and swimming in clean salty water was really good for his scales- definitely a game changer over Gotham's poison stew sewer.
Poison Ivy planted the island with lovely homicidal to strangers foliage. They were easily trained, give them a shake of Miracle-Grow and they knew you were a friend. Catwoman’s pussycat army reduced the rat population so the plants could grow. Mr. Freeze shocked the clouds and got enough rain to make a good size lake- he mostly spent his time on the cargo ship in his laboratory, trying to revive his wife. Tim was happy to fully fund that worthy cause.
Young Justice made Timsland their new Headquarters.
The only drawback was that Tim had to use so much sunscreen. Gothamites are adapted to gloom and disaster. Floating on Killer Croc’s back, coated in cocoanut SPF 50 factor, while drinking a Pina colada and looking up at the sky, Tim pointed at one long thin cloud. “Hey, Kon, does that look like a bat to you?”
“Nah,” Kon replied, as he flew down and hovered to give Tim a hug, “It’s just a cloud.”