Chapter Text
Tim's POV
It was supposed to be a simple mission. More than that, it was supposed to be a covert mission, but apparently, his team still didn’t understand the concept.
Nightwing had sent him, Blue Beetle, and Impulse to do recon on a developing drug ring in Gotham. While it was a little out of the League's purview, Batman was currently off-world, and the rest of the crew were apparently busy, so that left Tim and his team.
Nightwing told him it was just recon—nothing to it. But what Nightwing didn’t know was that none other than the League of Assassins was pulling the strings—something Robin’s team definitely wasn't equipped for. Sure, Tim could handle the league, having blown up half of it and crippled the rest, but that didn’t mean Jaime and Bart knew what they were getting into. Which meant all of the responsibility fell on Tim…but what else was new.
“Remember, guys, we are just here to do recon. Do not engage. I repeat, Do. Not. Engage.”
“Relax, Rob. We know what we’re doing.”
“Sure, Bart, tell that to the last recon mission that ended in two burning warehouses,” Jaime's voice crackled through Tim’s comms. The kid had a point, which is why he felt the need to stress that they were not to engage.
Tim sat perched on the edge of a shipping container, surveying the docks below. He counted about fifteen thugs and twenty crates of what had to be drugs. The labels were unfamiliar, proving Nightwing's tip to be spot on. Which was just great, because Gotham totally needed a new drug on the streets to start wreaking havoc. Regardless, here is where the mission should have ended. Of course, it could never be that easy.
“I count fifteen guys in total, and around twenty boxes of goods, meaning Nightwing was right. We need to get this information back to him and regroup at base.”
“Fifteen, you say…” Tim could hear Bart’s smirk over the line. “We can definitely take fifteen guys.”
“No, we—”
“You sayin we can’t take them?”
“I’m saying this is a recon mission, which means we gather the info and go.”
“Rob, he’s not wrong. Fifteen is nothing; we have handled worse. Why not just bust the ring now and get it over with?” Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He expected this from Impulse, but Blue Beetle, too? He’s starting to see why Jason works alone.
“Because that is not the mission. Now, stand down. That’s an order.” Tim waited for a response, and was met with silence. He wrongly assumed that meant the two had listened to him. It wasn’t until he saw a streak of lightning and a blue sound wave that he realized his mistake.
He watched as the two made quick work of the thugs. On one hand, they had a point. Fifteen was nothing compared to what they usually handled. But Tim couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something.
The fight was over in a matter of minutes, and to his team’s credit, nothing was on fire, meaning the covertness of the mission was still relatively intact. All in all, it could have ended a lot worse. Unfortunately, the night was just getting started.
Tim collected his gear and made his way toward his team, but paused when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. By the time he registered the threat, Impulse and Blue Beetle had already been taken down. Senses on high alert, Tim raised his bow staff, only to find himself surrounded in seconds.
Despite being closed in, Tim could have definitely escaped if he were on his own. But the unfortunate thing about leading a team is that you can’t leave anyone behind…no matter how dumb your friends are. Begrudgingly, Tim collapsed his staff and raised his hands in surrender. He caught the movement behind him right before pain exploded in the back of his head, and his knees hit the ground. He had just enough forethought to press his emergency beacon before the world tilted as he slumped sideways, and the darkness closed in.
“-im. Tim, wake up!”
“Would you stop yelling at him, obviously it’s not working.”
“Well, at least I’m trying something! What are you doing to help us escape?”
“How is yelling at our unconscious friend, who definitely has a concussion, aiding in our escape?”
“Well, can you pick these locks?”
All Tim heard in response was a huff of annoyance.
“Remind me to make that mandatory training,” he grumbled, alerting the other two that he was awake. Not yet wanting to open his eyes, Tim took stock of his other senses.
They seemed to still be at the docks, judging by the scent of seawater in the air. He tried to feel around him, but found his hands bound together over his head. And judging by the strain in his shoulders, concluded he was suspended from the ground by his wrists. He tried to ignore the pain in the rest of his body, but the sharp stab from the back of his head was making it difficult. He shivered as he felt blood still running down his neck. At least he hadn’t been out for too long.
Upon opening his eyes, Tim took in his surroundings. He was right that he was being suspended above the ground, his feet just barely brushing the floor. Across from him sat Bart and Jaime, their hands tied behind their backs, and wrapped around one of the support beams of the warehouse. No longer Impulse and Blue Beetle, as they had been stripped of their masks, but to be honest, protecting their identities was the least of Tim's worries. Now looking closer, he saw that their mouths were moving and…oh, they must be talking to him.
“-im, you with us?” Bart asked, his eyes filled with concern. Next to him, Jaime also looked at him with worry, which Tim found odd. Surely they had been in worse situations, right? But as his brain caught up with him, he realized the cuffs behind them must have been dampening their powers, which left his friends helpless. Ah, the fear in their eyes was beginning to make a lot more sense.
“I’m fine,” Tim finally replied. Shifting his arms, he found his own wrists were not only bound with rope, but wrapped in the chains that lifted him from the ground. Meaning there were no locks for him to pick.
Wonderful.
He was beginning to think they had definitely underestimated who they were dealing with. And Tim couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole situation had been a trap.
“You don’t look fine, hermano.”
“I’ve survived worse,” he said off-handedly.
“You certainly have,” a voice said, coming from behind, “the jar of your spleen in my office being proof enough.”
“You don’t have a spleen?” Bart yelled.
“Someone kept it in a jar?” Jaime added, equally as concerned.
“Ra's al Ghul,” Tim sighed as the man in question walked to stand in front of him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, detective,” Ra’s grinned, and oh, Tim definitely misjudged this situation. He tried not to squirm as Ra’s stepped forward and ran a hand along the scar that sat beneath his uniform. Tim’s disgust was reflected on his teammates’ faces.
“What brings you all the way to Gotham, Ra’s?” Tim continued, speaking past the bile that crept up his throat.
“Why, who else would I travel across the world for but you?”
“I’m flattered,” he replied sarcastically, “were the Hallmark cards not enough?” Ra’s laughed as he turned away from Tim, walking toward the crates that lined the room. He glanced at his friends and hoped his look conveyed that they needed to stay quiet.
“Can you believe that I missed you?” Ra’s purred.
“Believe it? Yes. But I still don’t see the point. Was my crippling your empire not enough of a rejection for you?” Ra’s paused for a second, an action anyone else would have missed, before grabbing something from the crate in front of him and slipping it into the folds of his cloak.
“I thought we could move past that, detective.”
“And I think not.”
Ra’s sighed, turning back to face Tim. He looked disappointed, but Tim also caught a spark of excitement in his eyes.
This wasn’t going to end well.
“I’ll admit, a part of me was hoping you’d say that,” he smiled, as he stood in front of Tim again, and produced a syringe from his coat.
This really wasn’t going to end well.
Tim didn’t have time to ask what was in the vial before Ra’s was jabbing it into the side of his neck. He could barely hear his teammates cry out over the fire that spread through his veins.
He must have passed out, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up on the floor, surprised to find his hands unbound.
“Rise and shine, detective. Sorry for drugging you, but from past experiences, you are much easier to move when unconscious.” Tim tried not to think of what Ra’s had done to him in the past while he was incapacitated; luckily, he seemed to still have all of his (remaining) organs, for now at least.
Muffled cries had him turning around to see Bart and Jaime still tied up, yet the former now sporting duct tape across his mouth, and Tim could only imagine how much Bart had annoyed Ra’s before he was silenced. He looked back at Ra’s, who was seated across from him.
“Just tell me what you want, Ra’s.”
“Well, I wanted you, of course, but since you’ve made your intentions clear,” Ra’s drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair, “if I can’t have you, no one can.”
Cold fear ran down Tim’s spine. He had always banked on his benefit to Ra’s to keep him alive, but apparently that expired with his offer.
Ra’s snapped his fingers, and a figure made its way out of the shadows, and even from his place on the ground, Tim could tell the man stood a good two feet taller than him. He was dressed as you’d expect a League of Assassins lackey to dress, save for the green cloak resting on his shoulders that was a direct copy of the one Ra’s wore.
“Tim, meet Ali, my new protégé. He has aced every test I’ve thrown at him, and now only needs to pass one more for me to deem him fit as my heir.”
“Let me guess,” Tim sighed, “he has to beat me.”
“Ever the genius, my detective.”
Tim looked between the two men and his team. Was he confident he could win? Let's see...
Was the other guy armed to the teeth, while Tim had nothing? Yes. Was Tim concussed, drugged, and running off two days with no sleep? Also yes.
So was he confident he could win? No. Yet while he may not be able to win, he should be able to hold out long enough until help arrives. He did press his distress signal, who knows how long ago, there was bound to be someone coming to get him, right?
As if reading his mind, Ra’s al Ghul chuckled.
“And by the way, your distress signal was cut off long before it left the docks. So, sorry to tell you, detective, but no one is coming to save you.”
Well, shit.