Chapter Ten: i would go to school today but i was recently kidnapped and tortured by a deranged maniac who dressed me like a clown and tried to turn me into his weird pseudo-son
Part 9 β Part 10 (You're Here!)
Masterlist!
The End!
It's been so fun making these! I have more stories from this universe to share (and some that are already posted on my AO3 that I need to format for Tumblr) so stay tuned for that!!
Chapter Nine: honestly didnβt think my day could get worse and then it did??? so thats something to think about ig
π WEDNESDAY, March 25th
Kon hears the crunch of gravel, glass, and something organic more than he feels it beneath his boots. The warehouse before him sits tall and imposing and strikes a sort of fear in him that heβs never felt before.Β
Somewhere inside is Robin.
Kon canβt hear anything beyond the thick walls β he files that away for later investigation β and tries to hold off the shiver that threatens to crawl up his spine with every passing moment near the God-forsaken dump. The concrete walls are jagged, roughly formed bricks of impregnable dominion.Β
Fortunately, Konβs found heβs rather good at breaking things.
The force behind his fist is tempered; withheld from fully vengeful strength with the awareness that too much pressure would undoubtably destroy everything within. Kon pulls back β drawing his arms around his head as chunks of concrete crumble around him in dramatic, rain-like fashion.Β
Once the wall is broken through, every modicum of sound that had been trapped within seemed to escape in an avalanche of misery.Β
Dad gave him a knife and a smile and the very clear instruction to put the knife (sharp-side facing away from himself) into anyone that come into his room.
Then Dad just left. And then JJ was alone.Β
And suddenly, the walls of his room were grimey and smelling of ancient sins.
And suddenly, the skylight was dripping stinging green rain.
And suddenly, there was someone in his room and the person β a boy? β was talking to him and JJ was talking back, except he wasnβt the one choosing the words and his skin felt itchy and he just wanted Dad to come back and take him to the empty place where nothing had to be difficult.
And suddenly the boy was grasping JJβs body and pulling him into his broad chest.
And suddenly JJ remembered that The Joker is fair more terrifying than the boy was safe.
The Jokerz werenβt exactly a top-notch group of henchmen; to become one of Jokerβs lackeys wasnβt a position that required a doctorate. But, and Jason really hated to assume, they were definitely being stupider than usual.Β
Superboy had been in the warehouse for a solid five minutes before a steady stream of Joker bootlickers had descended on the surrounding streets.Β
To say Jason was annoyed would be a minor understatement.
No comms; no backup; and no way to get to the breeched wall without drawing attention.
Jason breathes and rolls his shoulders.
The least he can do, he figures, is start counting how many bodies are going to drop.
Thereβs a sharp pain in the back of his head when Tim wakes, accentuated by the loud booming of stone breaking and falling and shattering and scattering. His body flucuates rapidly between too hot and too cold and his skin feels like heβs being broiled.Β
Outside himself, he can vaguely hear someone yelling for him β yelling for Robin β and he wonders if Batman actually came to save him.
His heart about explodes upon recognition of that solid red S-shield.
Tim wonders, in a moment of unbridled bliss as Kon holds them tightly chest-to-chest whether or not heβll say anything about Timβs masklessness.
Kon rests his face on the top of Timβs head, nose smooshed against greasy, unkempt hair.
βI didnβt look.β And though his voice is muffled against hair and skin, Tim feels just a bit lighter.
Kon realizes heβs never actually been stabbed before. Sure, people have tried and every once in a while some villain will manage to get a sharpened chunk of Kryptonite to cut through skin and tissue. But thereβs something different about being stabbed (at least according to Robin).Β
βItβs the intention.β Heβd said once, so long ago that the memory had formed in his mind slowly and choppily. βLike, thereβs a difference between someone getting a lucky shot on you because you moved wrong or you didnβt move in time. But itβs totally different when someoneβs able to get like, up-close-and-personal with you and then boom.β And Robin had said it like it was fact. Like the universe had decided one day that such a thing β such a small, insignificant distinction β was so foundationally important that it had personally given him the revelation. βI guess you canβt really get it.β
βYouβre always welcome to test it out.β Kon had said, because at the time it had felt right β safe.
βUh huh, sure.β Robin had said, because what else was there to say.
The boy had made a sharp wheeze sort of sound β like the kind that hisses from a balloon after its been popped and its soul is trying to evacuate its vessel. He drops to the cold, filthy floor and lays still for a moment, as though suddenly needing to process the preceding events.
JJ licks his lips and watches as the knife β the blade of which had broken in half upon touching the bodyβs boy and split like a seashell, revealing a brilliant, glowing green within β seems to embed itself deeper into the boyβs flesh with every slight shift and grunt and groan.
His hands feel twitchy, as though the loss of the slight weight of the weapon had thrown him off entirely.
The boy, now laying completely still beyond his shallow breaths, lays a hand flat on the ground near JJβs feet. JJ steps back. The boy looks at him and his eyes are so blue and filled with such a flood of pain and shock and something so deep and primal and heavy that JJ canβt bare the sight of it.Β
Ten minutes pass before Jason thinks, maybe he should step in. Not because he doesnβt think Superboy canβt collect Robin, but because he doesnβt think Superboy can collect Robin. So around the ten minute mark, Jason finds himself slinking around the shady corner of the abandoned building residing on the lot across the warehouse.Β
Scattered across the street like rats are Jokerz β each with increasingly deadly (read: illegal) firepower.Β
Jason finds himself falling into old, Batman-approved habits β rolling away from from spraying bullets and not towards with the intention of ripping a jagged knife through the enemyβs stomach and gutting them like a pig. It feels routine, like heβs once again Robin and just outside his eyesight is Batman, throwing punches and keeping the heaviest hittersβ eyes away from Jason.
Cassie genuinely, honest-to-fucking-Olympus is going to kill Kon-El.Β
Her muscles strain as she balls her fists for the thirteenth time in as many seconds; she can feel Spoiler watching her from some shadowy alley around them.
Kon jetting off to try to play solo-hero isnβt some new thing β nor is it something that sheβs become inclined to let slide β but in this moment, as Batman grills her and Bart for information they all know the two donβt have, it feels even more upsetting.
Next to her, Bart is shaking, vicious waves of electric energy roll through his body like tidal waves, threatening to literally seize him. And yet he stays; glued to the little patch of asphalt Batmanβs glare had frozen them to. His feet have created a divot in the pavement, from the slight jittering or from his muscle spasms, sheβs not sure. And yet, Bart Allen stands still. And Cassie seethes.
Two seconds after Superboyβs emergency alert goes off does Dick find himself mindlessly tearing through the ashy Gotham skies β it takes his mind a momentary blip before he remembers that he needs to give his body direction. He swings with speed challenged only by those whose bodies are beyond human β he swings with speed learned from years of flying with the fear of what happens when you swing too low β too high β too slow β he swings and distantly listens as Barbara shouts street names and building numbers. He swings until he sees a bright red, full-head helmet hunched behind a overturned SUV and a battalion of Joker lackeys shooting wildly at anything that moves.
Kon hand find purchase on a rough chunk of concrete β somehow perfectly sized to fit in his palm, yet large enough to maintain shape within his grasp. Not that its much of a challenge, he supposes.
The Kryponite feels like a drug, seeping into his veins and warping the world around him. He knows Robin is somewhere near him β some fundamental, primal function of his body knows that Robinβs body is near his own. He knows theyβre still in the warehouse. He knows that the Kryponite is going to kill him β at least heβs pretty damn sure.Β
He tries to shift his body just enough to allow him to grasp at the hilt β to maybe pull it out of his flesh and toss it away. Instead, he finds that heβs only capable of rolling slightly onto his side and groaning into the dust covered floor.
The boy writhes on the floor, twisting around himself like a tortured snake, trying to escape its fate. He lifts his head and gazes blearily in JJβs direction; despite his eyes seemingly staring directly at him, JJ doesnβt think the boy is actually seeing much of anything.
Thereβs a nagging in the back of his head, coming from a voice that sounds like Dad telling him to bury the knife in the boyβs stomach and make a break for it. And JJ would β he really would β except βΒ
There another voice, and its a lot quieter and nicer and it doesnβt make his head pound when he focuses in on it. And the voice tells him β no, no, it asks him to leave the boy alone β asks him to pull the knife out and take it to the far corner of his bedroom β asks him to let the boy live.
And JJ β well β he doesnβt know, okay?
He stands in his bedroom, with walls of grey concrete and leaking ceilings with a broken skylight and the inkling that Dad isnβt coming back. He stands and he watches the boy, who is looking at him, but not really, and he thinks of Dad and his way of looking at him, but not really, and how different it is this time around.
The boy looks at him, and even though he seems to be looking through JJ, the creases in his skin seem to soften. And in the briefest moments when JJ is certain the boy is actually seeing him he thinks the boy doesnβt look angry or annoyed or even upset β he just looks. And JJ thinks about the cold and the pin-pricks and the memories he doesnβt understand.Β
The boyβs hand, which is ripped up and uncalloused and covered in dust, stretches out just slightly.Β
And suddenly, JJ isnβt all that scared of what Dad will do to him.
Jason does not flinch when Dick lands silently next to him and immediately starts flinging Batarangs at Jokerz stupid enough to try to get close to the car, thank you very fucking much.
No, he just was a little surprised Dick had managed to find him in the carnage β thatβs all.Β
And itβs not like itβs all bad, really, his hand had started to cramp around the handle of his gun, so having someone who could fire back was actually pretty helpful β even if it was Dick.
Except, Dick was silent β throwing Batarangs with such a precision that Jason was certain a lethal shot would be purposeful β except Dick wasnβt throwing to be lethal. Every shot β every sharped blade-point was thrown with the intention of causing pain. One had stuck into the crotch of a Joker lackey that had tried to sneak around the side of the car; another had been thrown to swerve and imbed into a lackey that had taken off their plastic clown mask.Β
And somewhere in Jason β a little part of the boy that had never fully been broken, nor fully buried β wondered if Dick, Nightwing, had thrown Batarangs into Joker lackeyβs dicks for Jason.Β
Bartβs skin feels alive as he tears through the Gotham streets β Cassie had grumbled about being assigned to deal with post-Arkham riots and looters β but Bart wasnβt all that upset. A little bit, sure, but not as much as Cassie was.Β
He liked being able to run, to get as close to flying as a non-flying boy could get. He liked being able to tear through the streets and help people without being stuck in a small space not made for speed.Β
And he got it, okay? He understood why Cassie was annoyed at Kon and Batman and why she was so worried about them splitting up and why she kept asking Batman about Robin and Kon and Red Hood. He understood it. That being said, he also understood why Batman was keeping them away. No one can say Max didnβt teach Bart nothing, mβkay?
Something β someone β able to hold down Robin and Superboy for an extended period of time was a bad sign, and having two more experienced-but-not-that-experienced fighters get involved wasnβt strategic, it was stupid. And having Bart and Cassie β Impulse and Wonder Girl β run around Gotham and assure people that things were alright and that they were actually helping Robin was a better use of their skills. Because people like Impulse and Wonder Girl β or at least, people like The Flash and Wonder Woman, and he and Cassie are basically them just younger and with less life experience and no jobs.Β
So Bart does what he knows best and he runs through the shadowy parts of Gotham and he hands out blankets and food and startles would-be looters and chases a particularly feral-looking raccoon away from a deli.
Dick doesnβt ask Red Hood what he was thinking β he doesnβt actually say anything to Red Hood. Instead, he focuses on thinning out Jokerz little-by-little, despite wanting to snatch Red Hoodβs guns for himself and tear through flesh.Β
The instinct remains, however, so Dick resolves himself to making his anger β his resentment β known through the little bit of petty spite heβs allowed β the deniability heβs become accustomed to playing with Bruce.Β
And some part of him is glad Bruce is stuck chasing the Joker β trapped playing his pathetic game of cat and mouse with the freak forever. Heβs glad Bruce wonβt be the first to hold Tim once they get him back β Bruce wonβt get the chance to leave Dick in the dark.
Tim comes back to his body with a snap β as though someone (Ives) had shot a rubberband at his head. His bones feel heavy and his skin feels too tight. It takes him a long, dragging moment to register his environment and he wonders if maybe he should actually just go back to sleep.
And then Kon makes a gross wheezing, coughing, grunt that sounds so guttural it makes Tim sick. His eyes, which feel slightly less heavy by the second, roam over the scene β no, not a scene β theβ¦ situation, and he absorbs. Tim absorbs the broken β really more like shattered β concrete wall, the chunks of concrete ranging in size and shape, the cacophony of low-grade medical equipment housed around them β making a side note about how there is no dust on a single piece β and then he takes in Kon.
Not because he doesnβt know what to do βΒ heβs meticulously removed shards of Kryptonite from Konβs skin hundred of times β no, itβs not about that. Heβs seen wounds like that so many times itβs depressing. He hesitates because he knows β somewhere so far in the back of his mind and so far away from himself it feels like he, himself, is being slowly serrated as the memory surfaces β he, Tim, Robin did it.
Kon looks at him, for just a second, and the reflected light from the ankle shackleβs bolts hits his eyes and suddenly Tim disappears and in his place is Robin β calm, cool, smart Robin.
And Robin knows what to do.
And Robin doesnβt hesitate to rip his shirt and fold it into itself. Robin doesnβt hesitate to gently pull the knife out of Kon β because Kon is Kryptonian and even being half doesnβt negate that having a gapping flesh wound is better than having a Kryptonite knife impaling him. Robin doesnβt hesitate to press half his bodyweight down on the roughly-fashioned rag covering the wound.
Kon groans loudly as the knife is tossed to the other side of the warehouse β the best Robin can get at the moment.Β
And suddenly Kon is looking at him, and Robin vanishes as fast as heβd appeared.
And suddenly Kon is looking at Tim, and Tim feels his soul just about ascend.Β
Part 8 β Part 9 (You're Here!) β Part 10 (Coming Soon! (For realsies!!)
Masterlist!
Hey y'all, let me tell you about the last couple months - I had finals, my schedule got flipped upside down when my nieces had to go to their dad's house for the holidays, my laptop decided to crap out and is now sitting at 1% battery despite being plugged in, so I had to get a new computer and set it up and move all my important files (including all my fanfic documents) to this computer just in case.
But now I'm back!!
And its looking like part 10 will be the last part of this series, so I just wanted to thank you all for sticking with me and putting up with me and trying to format this project -`β‘Β΄-
Chapter Eight: haha ur so funny pls dont kill me or make me ur weird stockholm syndrome child soldier
Tim liked knowing things β he liked knowing what people were thinking; what they were feeling; what they were planning. He liked knowing how the little gears in the minds of humans churned. And maybe it was ironic β he was Icarus and knowing was the sun. Every bit of knowledge heβd accumulate β hoard in his mind β flapped his waxy wings closer to the maw of the ever-burning sun.Β
His mom had told him once, after sheβd tucked him into bed with a kiss to his forehead, that to be curious was both a blessing and a curse. At the time, he hadnβt really understood what sheβd meant.
The warehouse smelt smokey β like machinery had run for years within the concrete walls and had never been given an escape from the dusky corners. The walls, at least of from what he could see, were cracked and being overtaken by some sort of genetically modified vines.
The skylight β or rather, what used to be a skylight and was now a massive broken hole with jagged, spikes of glass covered haphazardly with a blue tarp β sat miles above him, just out of reach.
The leather straps bindings his ankles, torso, arms, and neck rubbed against his skin at the slightest movement. Tim wondered, just beyond the exhaustion and fumes, if Robin β Jasonβs Robin β had been scared. Or rather β because what a stupid question that would be, βhey Jason, were you scared when The Joker locked you in a warehoused rigged to explode and beat you to the brink of death?β β was he scared of the after. Tim wasnβt stupid, he knew dying would suck β he knew it would impact his family, his friends, the people awkwardly in-between those two categories. He wondered if Robin β Jasonβs Robin β had thought of that at all while Joker wailed on him with that half-rusted crowbar; he wondered if Jason had thought of what would become of Bruce, or Dick, or Babs β if another boy, or girl, or kid, would succeed him β if The Joker would be caught, or if some divine being would intervene and save everyone the trouble.Β
Obviously Robin β Jasonβs Robin β was scared when he was killed by The Joker.Β
Obviously Robin β Timβs Robin β would be scared when The Joker killed him, too.
There were bubbles popping somewhere just out of sight β tinny and sharp in the back of his head, bouncing around in his skull like an old-school arcadeβs pinball machine.Β
ding
ding
ding
The straps were tighter than before, punishment, though he couldnβt quite remember what for.
ding
ding
ding
He can feel something poke him in the arm β he canβt figure out on what side the movement or noise or feeling is coming from β and suddenly the world is so much lighter and he wonders why he couldnβt stay there in the nice warm lightness.
ding
ding
ding
The pinball still strikes barriers somewhere in the distant abyss, but in the suddenly-place he finds he doesnβt care.
ding
ding
pop
He likes knowing things β he likes knowing what people think; what they feel; what theyβre planning. He likes knowing how to crank the levers in their minds; how easy it is to break those levers. Maybe it was irony β to be Icarus, and feeling the cool embrace of the ocean as the hot wax of his wings burns his skin. Every bit of knowledge heβd given β had stripped from him β soothed his flaming skin with freezing water.
Someone had told him once, after a long day of knowing and being known, that to be curious was both a blessing and a curse. At the time, heβd accepted it without much hesitation.
His bedroom smelt smokey β like a bonfire had burnt all night within the high walls and had never gotten the chance to funnel out from the cobweb-covered corners. The walls, at least from what he could see, were painted with bright, colorful vines.Β
The skylight β or rather, what used to be a skylight before a bad guy flung himself through it, leaving Dad to fix it β sat thirteen yards above him, just out of reach.
The bands around his ankles, stomach, arms, and neck rubbed against his skin uncomfortably. He wondered, just beyond the exhaustion and fumes, if Robin β his Robin β had been scared. Or rather β because what a silly question that would be, βhey Robin, were you scared when The Joker locked you in a warehouse rigged to explode and jacked you up on Joker Venom?β β was he scared of the after. He wasnβt stupid, he knew dying would be no fun β he knew it would hurt, and be scary, and he didnβt know where heβd be after the dying part was over. He wondered if Robin β his Robin β had thought of that at all while Joker shocked him with rusty orbitoclasts; he wondered if Robin had thought of what would become of Superboy, or Wonder Girl, or Impulse β if another boy, or girl, or kid, would succeed him β if The Joker would be caught, or if some vigilante would swing down from the heavens and put a 9mm jacketed hollow point between his eyes.
Obviously Robin β his Robin β was scared when he was killed by The Joker.
Obviously JJ would be scared when The Joker killed him, too.
