Tim had quit his life as Red Robin. When he was younger he was so proud to be Robin, so happy that he got the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fight by Batman’s side. Everyone thought he was destined to do great things, and honestly so did he. He would’ve never dreamed of leaving Batman’s side. That was until he found out about Jason.
Finding out that Jason died made him hang up the cape. He couldn’t bear to carry on a mantle that wasn’t his. He knew Dick willingly quit, leaving the Robin position vacant. But Jason hadn’t willingly died, and Tim could never feel comfortable in that suit knowing it belonged to a dead kid. The second robin was great, and Tim could never live up to him, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t deserve to. A few years after he quit being Robin, he resurfaced as Red Robin. Because once you lived life as a bat you could never go back, not really. It was a perpetual struggle of constantly looking over his shoulder, constantly wondering if the woman staring at him was planning something or was just admiring his clothes.
As of now, Tim acted as an information broker. He worked with the entire Justice League and all heroes/vigilantes, including Jason. When they’d first met Tim was bleeding out on a rooftop after he’d won a fight as Red Robin but had taken substantial physical damage. He’d been expecting a punch in the face for replacing him or at least some kind of anger or resentment. Tim was surprised when the man’s first words to him were ‘Rough night?’ and even more surprised when Jason patched him up and sent him on his way. He’d only worked with Red Hood three times when he found out the man smoked weed. ‘I thought Red Hood was against drugs?’ Tim had asked him as he watched the man light a blunt. ‘Red Hood is against selling drugs to kids. I look like a kid to you?’ Jason asked with a raised eyebrow. Tim had just shook his head and turned back to the screen that was in front of him.
Tim was focused on his current case, his brows furrowed in concentration as he went over a file that the Titans needed from him when he heard those familiar three knocks at his window. He turned his head to find Jason standing on his balcony, his helmet on. Tim stood up to let him in because at this point they’d worked together enough to be considered friends. It’d started out with only interacting for crucial cases, but they grew on each other. Tim enjoyed Jason’s laid-back but still about-business attitude and in turn, Jason savored Tim’s non-judgemental and sarcastic personality. They complimented each other well, after all, albeit in different senses and categories, they were both emotional and social wrecks. Tim was a social recluse because he didn’t know how to understand complex human emotions and Jason was anti-social because he didn’t care about human emotions.
“What’s going on?” Tim asked as he lifted the window. Jason landed inside silently, which was ironic in comparison to his imposing build.
“Nothing. Just need these scanned,” Jason pulled a case holding 5 vials of green liquid from his jacket.
“Got it. What are they?” Tim asked, taking them from Jason and placing them in the chemistry analyzer that sat at his workstation. He sat in his chair, facing away from the man behind him, which was a huge show of trust in itself.
“No idea. Grabbed ‘em off some dealer I caught on the street today,” Jason replied.
“Is said dealer still with us?” Tim asked curiously. Personally, Tim didn’t kill. He couldn’t handle knowing he’d taken a life. Though he didn’t care much about Jason’s killings it still made him feel better knowing Jason was becoming less violent and more understanding.
“With us meaning..?” Jason asked with a hint of amusement in the robotic edge that his helmet put on his voice.
“In the world of the living,” Tim put out bluntly.
“Yes. In the hospital, but alive,” Jason said, taking off his mask.
“Doesn’t it get hot inside that thing?” Tim asked, turning around to face Jason.
“Better than being dead,” Jason shrugged, taking a seat on Tim’s bed.
“You’re never gonna let that one go, are you?” Tim chuckled.
“Would you?” Jason shot back lightning-quick.
“Fair point,” Tim conceded. The chemical analyzer dinged, catching his attention. “Looks like a drug called Viper,”
“Damnit, I should have killed him,” Jason scoffed.
“Bruce wouldn’t like that,” Tim said for nothing else but a reaction.
“Since when do I care about what Bruce likes?” Jason looked at him incredulously through his domino.
“Fair point, go ahead, kill the man,” Tim waved a hand dismissively towards the window.
“And you wouldn’t have a problem with that?” Jason asked in disbelief.
Tim fixed him with the look he always gave Jason when he asked a dumb question. “Viper is a deadly poison, and he was selling it. I’m not saying he deserves it, but he deserves it,”
“So you’d help me?” Jason asked with a small grin.
“Why would I help you kill a man?”
“I meant help me find out where he got it from and shut the operation down,”
Tim knew the answer was yes, and had to stop himself from shouting it. He pretended to think about it for a few seconds before shrugging. “Sure, sounds fun,”
Jason’s grin grew and Tim couldn’t help but smile too.
“I’ll swing by again tomorrow,” Jason said, standing. It was then that Tim noticed Jason piling all his weight onto his right leg.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” Tim questioned.
“Nothing. My leg is fine,” Jason replied. He began walking towards the window again but Tim noticed the slight limp he moved with.
“Okay,” Tim sighed, kicking Jason in his left knee.
“Fuck!” Jason shouted, falling to the ground.
“Thought there was nothing wrong with your leg?”
“I said my leg, not my knee,”
“Your knee is a part of your leg,” Tim called, making his way to the first aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He inwardly chuckled at how Jason attempted to hide his injury from Tim.
He bent down, opened his cabinet, and looked for the shiny white box with the red plus sign on it.
He returned almost as quickly as he left to find Jason lying on his bed.
“Either the pants come off or you roll them up,” Tim said as he sat the first aid kit on his bed and opened it.
“I’m not your maid,” Tim scoffed. The smile on his face betrayed how he wanted to sound but he didn’t mind much.
“Not my doctor either but here we are,” Jason countered smoothly. Tim always enjoyed his and Jason’s banter, not that he’d ever tell the other man that.
Tim stared at him unimpressed. Jason scoffed and pulled his left pant leg up. Underneath it was a deep gash that was poorly stitched up. Blood leaked out of the stitch and it looked infected, yellow pus seeping out around the edges.
“This is one of the worst stitch jobs I’ve ever seen,” Tim said. He got on his knees and began cleaning the stitch with anti-septic.
“In Roy’s defense, his hand was injured too,”
“You should’ve told someone, this is dangerous,”
Jason huffed out a laugh. “That’s an occupational hazard baby bird,”
Tim watched Jason jump out of his window, the man leaving with a shout of, “I’ll get you some new sheets!”
Tim hadn’t noticed the blood-soaked sheets on his bed until after Jason was already gone. Tim could do nothing but sigh and begin getting ready for bed. He walked into his bathroom, taking in his appearance. His eye bags were still dark, and his face was still on the grey edge of pale. His eyes were tired, almost lifeless. He was beginning to see his skin clinging to his bone, a telltale sign that he hadn’t been eating. He sighed and looked away.
He brushed his teeth and washed his face almost robotically, avoiding locking eyes with himself in the mirror at all costs.
He replaced his sheets and got into bed, letting his mind take the wheel.
They were already aware of the effects of the drug, it slowly melted away calcium that the bones needed and left it’s victims with dust in place of bones, killing them slowly and painfully. It allowed for a small period of inhuman strength, which was unbelievably dangerous. Solomon Grundy was a prime example of why people out of their minds should not be given super strength. He only hoped they could shut the operation down before Viper spread too much.
“Plan?” Tim asked warily. Jason had come crashing into his room with a look of pure rage on his face a few moments earlier. He’d explained to Tim that there was a new variant in Viper that allowed the victims to live longer and made them susceptible to suggestion. Tim didn’t like drugs that made people susceptible to suggestion. Jason had his theories on what the drug trafficking rings could use it for, who they could sell it to, and none of them were good. The way Jason paced as he spoke made Tim worry that he’d jump into action without a plan.
“My plan is to track down the piece of shit that started this and paint the wall with his brain,” Jason spat.
“Jay as of now you and I are the only ones on this. If you die who will help the victims?” Tim questioned in an attempt to be the voice of reason.
Jason stopped pacing to think, at least that’s what Tim assumed, he couldn’t tell much from the helmet.
“Where’d you find the dealer last night?” Tim asked, turning to his computer.
“Corner of fifth and Eagleside,”
“There’s a warehouse not too far from there. I say we check it out, and if it’s a hit, follow it,”
“Then we look somewhere else. The drug hasn’t hit the streets hard yet or else Bruce would know. We need to stop it before its next shipment,”
Tim’s police radio went off, and he whipped his head towards the noise on his desk. ‘Hostage situation at Gotham Bank, calling all units,’
Tim turned his head back to Jason, who’s figure had just leaped out of his window. Tim could do nothing but sigh and run a hand down his face. He really hoped this wouldn’t get them killed.
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