Chapter Text
“Where is Dick?”
Damian is doing his best to destroy a training mannequin. Tim knows Alfred had to go back to England for a few days, but he had expected to find Dick, at least.
“Out,” Damian says, without looking at him.
Nice. Talkative as always. Tim looks around the bunker. The Batmobile is gone, and so is Dick’s suit.
Out.
“Out as in, out as Batman?”
Damian looks annoyed with him. “Where else would he be?”
“Damian, it’s two in the afternoon.” The sun has been up for a while. As much sun as there is in Gotham, at least. “Did he went out as Batman in the middle of the day?”
Damian makes an annoying sound with his tongue, finally putting his katana down to look at Tim. “Of course not. He went out last night, he just hadn’t came back yet.”
“What?! And why weren’t you with him?”
“He said something about how it was a school night.”
“Then why aren’t you at- you know what, nevermind. Where is Dick right now?”
“Are you deaf? He’s out.”
“Out where?!” Tim can’t help it. He screams. “What are his trackers showing?!”
“You’re a fool if you think Grayson still has trackers on him.”
That’s… He’s going to kill Dick for that if he doesn’t kill Damian first. Or if a rogue doesn’t get him. “And it didn’t occur to you to- I don’t know, worry?! Warn someone?”
“Batman can take care of himself.”
“That’s-” Bullshit and Damian should know it. The opposite of what Robin means. “You don’t know what’s out there.”
“Please. He was after Condiment King. So, tell me, what’s the worst Condiment King can do to Batman.”
Tim can’t deal with that child, who is wearing the colors of Robin yet understands nothing. “I’m calling Oracle. Stay here. Don’t leave the penthouse.”
Oracle, at least, is more talkative than Damian. She looks into the last case Batman was working on, but Dick seems to hide as much things from her as he does from Tim.
He hate this.
“Do you need me to put Steph on this?” she asks. She sounds worried, and, to be honest, Tim is starting to be, as well. But it’s Condiment King they’re talking about. Surely, Dick is fine. Maybe he got himself locked into a basement, Tim thinks, hysterically, as if they’re talking about some lost cat, and not the Batman.
“No, I’m sure she has other cases to work on. I got this.”
He does. And it’s a Robin job.
Steph is Robin, in a way, maybe more than Damian is, at the moment. But she’s Batgirl, now. Robin didn’t bring good things for her. Tim can take the role.
And he does. Ra’s called him a detective, and even if the memory brings bile up his throat, it’s true. He’s a detective, and a damn good one. He tracks Dick, and he tracks Mitchell Mayo with him.
He does his job. As Red Robin. As someone who once inherited the mantle of Robin. As part of Bruce legacy.
The night is already advanced when he figures it out. There is still no news of Dick, and he didn’t hear anything more from Damian, either. So the kid really isn’t worried about his mentor.
His investigation takes him to what is reported on maps as an abandoned meat processing plant, which is never good. He forces the door.
Yeah, abandoned his ass. There is blood everywhere. He hopes against hope that it’s animal. He feels sick.
“Batman?” he calls out. Condiment King has always been kind of a pest, but this is another level. He starts moving, putting on the night vision. His eyes fall on a ham cutter.
There is a finger still on it, nail manicured with purple polish and sparkles. Tim takes a step back, instinctively, and puts his hand on a big mixer.
Something is soft under his glove. Hair.
Tim always considered himself to have a solid stomach, but he can’t help it. He looses whatever he had eaten, along the three cups of coffee of the evening, on the floor of the plant. He’s gathering himself when he hears a noise behind him. What is-
Too late. A man jumps him, and he’s face down in blood and his own sick. He twists, fighting back. But soon there is another one. His hits again, and finally, the pressure on his back eases. He gets one man down, then takes care of the second with his boo staff. He’s out of breath when he’s done and… Oh. And there is a cannon on his face.
“Stop right here!” Tim looks down the barrel to find Condiment King’s face. That means what’s inside this gun is…
“Or what, you’ll throw ketchup at me?”
“Oh, better than that, my boy. I have a friend with me who gave me a very interesting condiment… Something new… Something great. All he needs in exchange is people, and you are going to be my next offering.”
Mayo arms the gun and Tim braces himself, waiting for the inevitable. Only, it never comes. Instead, a small green, red, yellow and black shape falls from the ceiling, right on Mayo.
“Where is Batman?” Damian demands, his knife around Condiment King’s throat. His hold is firm, but his hand is shaking. “What have you done with him?”
Mayo smiles. “You will never figure it out,” he says, and Damian punches him, knocking him out.
“Robin,” Tim reprimands. He’s not sure what he just avoided, thanks to Damian. He has the feeling it was worse than getting his face full of ketchup.
“What? He wasn’t going to talk. Let’s find Batman and get out of here.”
The kid is trying to put on a brave face, but Tim can see he’s uneasy. Who could blame him, given where they are?
Have they really not noticed these people disappearing? Who is Condiment King’s friend?
Where is Dick? Where is Batman?
Where is Batman? This is the central question of Tim’s life, it seems. Where is Batman? How will they get him back? In what state will they find him?
“We will find him,” he tells Damian, both about Dick and about Bruce, because they will. He can’t accept the other possibility. Dick will not leave him alone. Not him.
“Of course we will,” Damian replies, looking straight in front of him. “He’s Batman.”
He says this with so much will, it makes Tim think maybe he’s as worried as he is, despite his attitude earlier in the day.
“I told you to stay in the penthouse,” he says. He doesn’t know why, exactly, he says it. Maybe he wants a fight. Maybe fighting with Damian will help them both focus on something else than the fact that they’re walking among human remains. Human remains that have been processed like meat.
Tim is probably going vegetarian for a few weeks, at least, after that.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Damian says, still not looking at anything other than what’s in front of him. Tim can’t exactly blame him. There is a shredder and- no. He can’t think of it.
They will find Dick. Alive and whole. There is no alternative. Damian is right. He’s Batman.
He’s Batman.
“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m not exactly sure what you saved me from, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have liked it.”
Damian clicks his tongue. Tim will take what he can get from the kid.
“He bleeds to be accepted,” Dick had told him. He seems to be the only person who actually tolerates Damian. Who actually understands him.
Tim won’t apologize for thinking he’s a bad Robin, but Damian saved his ass, earlier. And the kid is scared. He’s trying to hide it, but fear oozes through his entire self.
They’ve reached the door to a walk in refrigerator. Tim swallows. The setting are cold, but not freezing. Someone inside might be able to survive, especially with the thermal layers of the Batman suit.
He puts his hand on the handle. “We will find him,” he repeats. Alive and whole.
He doesn’t tell Damian to close his eyes, but part of him wants to.
And he turns the handle.