Chapter Text
Tim Drake fumbled with the clasp on his cape. His hands felt clumsy and foreign. This was stupid. He was being so stupid about this whole situation.
Wally and Conner continued chatting, oblivious to Tim’s plight. He just needed to get the final clasp to latch. It should have only taken him five seconds, seven max, but here he was, struggling, hoping he could get his damn costume on before anyone could notice something was off. He had done this a thousand times before.
That wasn't quite accurate. He hadn't donned this costume, the Red Robin costume, all that many times yet. None of that mattered though. Red Robin, leader of the Teen Titans, protector of Gotham City, could not be seen having a wardrobe malfunction on the eve of battle.
The team did what they always did before a big mission. Once the plan was made, they headed to the locker rooms to suit up, gear up, and blow off a little steam before the fight. For the guys, that usually involved a little rough-housing, and a lot of talking shit.
Tim would’ve been better off with the girls. The gaggle of shirtless superheroes giving each other friendly headlocks wasn't exactly good for Tim’s blood pressure. He was trained in the art of meditation by the greatest martial artists in the world, but he could only do so much when Conner was around.
Tim regretted the double espresso he shot during the strategy meeting. He knew he relied on caffeine too much, and he exceeded the amount he normally allowed himself, but everything had been so exhausting lately.
Darkseid was preparing to launch an all-out war against multiple planets and both the Titans and the Justice League were getting involved. His whole week had been dominated by strategy meetings, which was a fancy way of saying that Superman and Orion spent a week bullying each other into following their own strategies, only to ultimately be maneuvered into the plan Batman had been hatching the whole time.
Tim spent most of that time convincing Conner that going with Superman to confront Darkseid directly was a bad idea. It was fairly simple to appeal to his loyalty to the team once the initial ego-trip wore off. Tim could certainly sympathize with feeling like you had to prove yourself to your father-figure. Ultimately the plan worked better if the Titans stuck together and used their teamwork to their advantage. So, as usual, the younger heroes were set to the simpler task of providing backup to the heroes of New Genesis.
Tim finally managed to get his cape in place just in time for Wally to throw an arm around his shoulder.
“Come on Tim, weigh in here. You're Conner’s bestie. Surely he’s given you details.”
Tim rolled his eyes. He hadn't been paying attention but it didn't take a genius to guess what he was asking about. Gar and Vic looked at him expectantly, as if Tim would ever reveal something Conner wasn't willing to tell them himself.
“He hasn't told me anything.” Tim said with a shrug.
The guys all groaned.
“Boo, RR you suck.” Vic complained. “Aren't you a detective?”
“Yeah!” Wally cried, dramatically hanging off Tim’s neck. "Can't you deduce if Conner and M’gann are banging yet?”
Tim’s eye twitched. He should definitely cut back the caffeine. It made it harder to conceal his tells.
“You guys have been together for two months!” Gar pointed an accusatory finger at Conner, who sat on one of the benches. He had the simplest costume, so he was already dressed, sitting with his arms crossed and back against the wall. "It's not like any of us are getting action right now. So spill!”
Conner smiled and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Come on guys. We aren't Dick and Kori. I'm not going to give you a play-by-play.”
“Ah-ha!” Wally zipped across the room to deposit himself in Conner’s lap. “So there are plays to be played!”
Conner stood, dumping Wally to the floor, while the rest of the guys pestered him for juicier details.
Tim already knew the details more or less. He hadn't lied, Conner hadn't told him anything. He didn't have to. They were so painfully obvious about it.
Before last week Conner and M’gann were still in the honeymoon phase. Their relationship was fresh, and they were a little shy, but very touchy with each other. That changed last Tuesday. Tim noticed immediately. They’d had the first meeting about the mission the day before, so Tim assumed the impending space-war had something to do with it. Suddenly they were both very aware of their physical proximity to each other, keeping a professional distance in public. He saw the change in the other girls on the team too. He assumed M’gann had talked to Starfire and Raven beforehand for advice.
It made Tim’s blood boil to think about them having sex. He tried so hard to compartmentalize his crush on Conner, to put those feelings away. Conner was his best friend, and straight. He couldn't help it that he was gorgeous and Tim was lonely.
Tim didn't exactly have a great history of healthy attachments. Letting physical attraction get in the way of his work was unacceptable. He couldn't afford it.
That night, when all the meetings were done, Tim had snuck back to Wayne Manor, crawled through his bedroom window, drank half a bottle of Bruce’s good bourbon, and passed out on his bed, still in his Red Robin costume.
In the morning he’d found Alfred ready for him with a full English breakfast, coffee, and his famous hangover cure. None of the Bats were ever brave enough to ask what was in it. They drank the brown concoction and were grateful. Tim was back at Titan’s tower before anyone knew he was missing.
He’d done a pretty good job the rest of the week avoiding thinking about Conner and sex in the same context, but here everyone was, rubbing his goddamned nose in it!
How could he regain control of the situation?
All the guys were still laughing and teasing Conner. He didn't want to reveal any more, but he had a pleased smirk on his face. He was probably thinking about it.
An image flashed through Tim’s mind unbidden. Conner loomed over him, shirtless, just a little out of breath. His curls were damp, and his skin was golden and flawless. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and Tim leaned in to lick it off–
“I'm jealous!” Wally said, interrupting Tim’s imagination. “Only a couple years old, and you've already punched your V-card!”
This had to end.
Tim snatched his utility belts off the bench and stormed to the door of the locker room. His voice was sharp, cutting through the laughter.
“That's enough. We leave in five minutes. Anybody who hasn't managed to tuck their dick back into their pants by then is getting left on Earth.”
There was a stunned second of silence before Gar piped in.
“Sorry Robin, we were just–”
“It’s Red Robin. I’m gonna go get the girls.”
He left without another word, letting the door close loudly behind him.
*****
“You wanna tell me what that was about?”
Conner stood side by side with Tim at the transport pad outside the tower. They were the first two to arrive. No doubt everyone knew about his outburst and were waiting for Conner to smooth things over before approaching.
“It's nothing. Just a big mission.”
“Uh-huh” He didn't look at him, but Tim could hear the smile in his voice. “Well when you're ready to talk about ‘nothing’ you know I'll be here, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” Tim took a deep breath. He always had to monitor his heart rate when Conner was close. He could regulate it if he had enough concentration, after years of practice. Stupid Kryptonian hearing.
“You’re my best friend Tim. I'm here for you, no matter what.”
Tim wished he could let the bitter laugh that welled up inside him escape. Things would be so much easier if Conner was a worse friend. Maybe then Tim could separate physical attraction and companionship in his mind. Why couldn't he just assume Tim was okay like everyone else did?
“We can talk later. It's really not a big deal. I just had too much coffee again.” He needed to come up with a lie that would satisfy Conner. He'd think of something while they were on the mission. Maybe he could blame it on his break-up with Stephanie, but that was years ago now. He couldn't keep dragging it out as a cover when it hadn't even meant anything to him. He’d find something better later.
Conner might be a good friend, but not good enough to see through Tim. Not really. No one had ever been that good.
“Okay.” They finally looked at each other, and Tim couldn't help a genuine smile from creeping out. “I'm not going to forget. You owe me one heart-to-heart chat and I'm cashing it in soon.”
“Deal. Now you can round everybody up. I’m not going to bite.”
“Can do.” Conner waved, and the rest of the Titans filed out of the tower. Tim rolled his eyes.
“Okay team,” Tim turned his pep talk voice on. Serious, but not too stern. “Remember, our objective is to hold New Genesis. Stick together and stick to the plan. If the Justice League has to send anybody from their team to bail us out it will not only be disastrous for their front, but also embarrassing for us. Our part is crucial to the overall strategy, so don't lose focus. If anybody gets hurt you need to make sure they are safe, and then get back to your post. Got it?”
Everyone agreed.
It still felt weird sometimes to lead a team that was formerly led by Nightwing. Especially with the members who were older than Tim. He was constantly amazed that they followed his orders.
“Ready with the Mother Box, Cyborg?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “Next stop, war zone.” Cyborg activated the device, and a Boom Tube formed next to the helipad. Big Barda waved at them from the other side. As usual Conner went first, in case there was an attack on the other side. Then Kid Flash and Raven, Starfire and Beast Boy, and finally Cyborg and Miss Martian. Red Robin always went through last, to make sure the team made it.
Tim was stepping up to the gate when he felt a pain on the back of his neck. His hand shot up to feel a dart sticking out of it.
He tried to fall forward, into the Boom Tube, but his muscles had already locked up. The world tilted sideways, and he caught the ground with the left side of his face.
He tried to yell, to scream, but he couldn't move.
Conner! Turn around! Yes, yes, yes!
They made eye contact for a split second, and Tim watched Conner realize what was happening before the gate closed in his face.
At least one of them saw.
Everything went dark.
*****
Tim woke up in a strange bed. That was definitely not normal for him. He was laying on top of the covers, which were soft, nice linens. He took inventory of his body. He couldn't feel any injuries, but his left shoulder was a little sore. It must have been from the fall.
He sat up carefully. He wasn't in his Red Robin uniform, and panic stabbed through him. There was no mask, and no sign of his utility belts. Someone had changed him into a training gi while he was knocked out. It was comfortable and fit well, but that didn't make it less creepy.
A glance around the room added to the theory that was growing in his mind. Everything was nice, but not ostentatious. Handmade Persian rugs, embroidered fabrics, antique lamps, real wood furniture.
He rose on unsteady feet and approached the window. He knew what was outside before he could even see through the curtains. The cold seeped through the thick panes of glass.
The curtains parted to show the snow covered slopes of Nanda Parbat. Tim was captured by the League of Assassins.
Fuck fuck fuck.
A quick scan of the room revealed a camera in the corner that wasn’t even pretending to be hidden. Cameras, but no guards and no restraints. What was the point? Surely Ra’s knew Tim wouldn't just hang around for a nice little vacation. He wasn't dressed warmly enough to make a run for it but there were lots of linens around the room he could use to fashion a coat. His footwear…
Tim stared at his feet in confusion. He wore simple slippers, but around each ankle was a silver shackle. A quick inspection revealed a smooth surface with only one well-hidden seam. It would be very hard to get off, but nothing spoke to its purpose.
Tim didn't have more time to investigate. He could hear footsteps outside in the hall, at least six people. They must have been monitoring the video feed in the room.
There was a polite knock on the door, and a man called to him. “Timothy Drake, will you come with us willingly? The Demon’s Head wishes to greet you personally.”
Tim entertained the idea of making them work for it. He could probably take six guards even without his bostaff. What would be the point though, other than pure pettiness? He wouldn't make it out of the compound unprepared, and he certainly couldn't make it down the mountain. He’d just get beat up when reinforcements arrived, and have to meet with Ra’s anyway. No, it was best to play along for now, and gather as much information as he could.
“I’ll come with you,” he replied. “Please don't taze me or anything.” He held his hands up to show that he meant it. He heard three locks unlatch before the door swung open. He counted correctly, six ninja stood in the hallway. They escorted him, wary but respectful, through the palace. They didn't bother to blindfold him. Tim knew it wasn't because they underestimated him, but rather because Ra’s knew it wouldn't do any good. Tim could map the whole place blind, just by counting his steps.
Tim expected them to turn into what was clearly a throne room situation, but they passed it and led him to a side room. This was new. It looked like a formal sitting room for entertaining guests. There were a few sofas, a stocked bar, and some very expensive paintings on the walls.
Sitting at a small round table in the middle of the room was Ra’s Al Ghul himself. He wore a more casual version of his usual outfit. Still green and gold, made of fine silk, but no high collar or fancy embroidery. He reached for a steaming teapot and poured two cups. There was a second chair pulled up to the table, clearly meant for Tim.
“Ah, Timothy. So glad you could join me. I’m pleased to see you’ve chosen a more cooperative approach. I had hoped you would be intrigued enough to allow us a pleasant chat, as opposed to the alternative.” Ra’s settled into his own chair, completely at ease in his own power, and waited to see what Tim would do.
Tim had to stifle a laugh at the whole production. He imagined someone racing to the kitchen to put the kettle on the moment they saw him stirring on the camera feed to his room. If Ra’s was bored enough to bring him all this way to play games, he'd give him a good fight.
He slid into the seat like this scenario was entirely expected.
“Ra’s, if you wanted to chat there are less dramatic methods. I'm more than happy to give you my email address.” He took the warm teacup in his hands and blew on it. It smelled like oolong.
Ra’s sipped his tea and let out a patronizing chuckle. “Yes, you are quite adept with this century’s technology, are you not? A worthy skill set. You’ll forgive me for being somewhat old-fashioned in my methods.” His gaze sharpened across the little table. “I prefer important discussions to be face-to-face.”
“Okay, so this is drugging and abducting serious. Noted.” He took a sip of tea, and it was so hot it made his eyes water. He bit his tongue to keep from yelping. The smug bastard across from him didn't have the same problem. "I don't suppose we could keep this visit short? I'm very busy this time of year. Any time of year, really.”
“I understand completely, Timothy, I do. The length of your stay here shall be entirely up to you.” Ra’s smirked and took another sip. “The more cooperative your behavior, the less time all of this will take. Unfortunately for you, that will probably be much longer than you would like. I am, however, happy to host you here for as long as necessary.” He leaned back to look out one of the windows. “I admire that spark of rebellion in you Timothy, but I’m afraid it will slow things down for us.”
“If you tell me what you want it might go faster.”
“Ah, but that would spoil my fun, now wouldn’t it?” Ra’s downed the rest of his cup before setting it delicately on the plate. “Watching you try to piece it together will delight me for weeks. I get so bored here without a proper sparring partner.”
Weeks? Oh like hell was Tim staying that long. He was going to run mental circles around this old wind bag! Tim would play along, and wait for the perfect time to land a finishing blow to whatever plan he was cooking up. Ra’s might be brilliant, but ultimately he only ever wanted a few things: power, control over the Lazarus Pits, and to beat Batman. He had recently added training a protege to the list. Tim would bet he was going for at least two, if not all four.
“I'll bite. It's not like I have much I can do otherwise. What does compliance look like?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed the ankle device,” Ra’s drawled. “A remote detonator, quite powerful considering the size. It will automatically trigger if you leave the perimeter of the compound. It will also be triggered if you attempt to attack, incapacitate, or kill me.” He shrugged. “Other than that you are free to act as you wish, with the understanding that politeness will be met in kind, as will rudeness.”
“So no hiking trips. Got it.” Tim eyed the ankle monitor, a little more wary. “So what, I just live here now? Even if you convince me that I want to stay, you know Batman will come looking for me as soon as I don't check in, right?” Was he expected to lay around the castle just because his foot might explode? Surely Ra’s could do better than that. There was more to this game.
“Just about every hero that can be spared is off-world at the moment, so we do have some time before your teammates are able to notify anyone on Earth. I’m not too worried about it.” Another one of those smug, patronizing smiles creeped across his face. “I do hope you enjoy your stay here. I know I will.”
Damn. It was too much to hope the timing was a coincidence. Ra’s never left anything to chance. Well, Tim knew a dismissal when he heard one. “Don't think you've won yet Ra’s. This game is just starting.”
Ra’s was still grinning as Tim rose, and let the ninja lead him to the door. “If you don't assume a game is always being played, you've already lost. One more thing before you go, Timothy. I’ll be sending you a gift a little later today. Try not to break it.”
*****
Jason Todd’s second attempt at life was less living and more stumbling from one disaster to the next, but the last two weeks were beyond fucking ridiculous. He wasn’t actively trying to hurt any of the Bats at the moment and they weren’t actively trying to arrest him, but it didn’t mean Dick and Bruce weren’t constantly trying to stage little run-ins out on patrol to bug the shit out of him and pretty please could he maybe stop being a crime lord? So when the chance to chase down a human trafficker who’d been causing problems on his turf dropped into his lap, he happily made his way to Malaysia and went on a cathartic little killing spree. Unfortunately he hadn’t counted on the League of Assassins showing up, or his subsequent capture.
So the last twenty days, give or take, had been a blur of beatings, followed by sitting around in a dusty cell for hours, followed by being dragged off to somewhere and waking back up in the previously mentioned dusty cell. The shocking thing was the lack of villainous monologues. Jason hadn’t seen a single hint that Talia was nearby, and while he couldn’t remember any encounters with Ra’s, he just had a feeling the man was present during the times he couldn’t remember. When he tried to think back on it he could hear his smug fucking voice and recall sickeningly familiar flashes of green.
He groaned and blinked his eyes open, trying to piece together where he was in that cycle. However, those thoughts ceased when he realized he was in an entirely different room. It looked more like a swanky guest room than a holding cell. It had nice carpets covering tile floors and windows that even had curtains gently swaying from the fresh mountain air. There was a bed and a couch and oh fuck there was someone sitting on the bed and trying to talk to him.
Jason squinted and yep. That person still looked like The Replacement. But it couldn’t be. Whatever Ra’s was doing to him must have really crossed some wires. Was he hallucinating? Auditory and visual hallucinations were pretty serious. Fuck. The Replacement was still trying to say something but Jason’s head was fucking killing him, and there was this terrible ringing in his ears.
Struggling to sit up from where Ra’s’ thugs had just thrown his body to the floor, he snarled at the hallucination. “Shut the fucking fuck up I’ll deal with you in a minute!” If Ra’s would ever show himself he was going to strangle him to death, dip him in the Pit to revive him, and then blow his brains out with a glock.
Damn, he was tired. Which made no sense because he’d never spent so much time unconscious in either of his lives. “Goddamn!” He placed both hands on either side of his head and squeezed harder than he should, he just really needed the pounding pain and the swimming vision to calm down. And why was it so fucking hot? They were on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, why was he sweating so much? Maybe he had a fever. That could explain the hallucinations. The hallucinations that were not shutting the fuck up.
Jason snarled and ripped his shirt over his head and chucked it at the fake Replacement. “Fuck off!” Oh shit. Jason blinked in confusion when his shirt smacked into an actual person who was for real sitting on the bed.
“Okay! Jesus! That's the last time I ever offer to help you! Lay there and suffer.”
So Tim fucking Drake was actually sitting there, holding his shirt. “You-“ he should stop gaping like an idiot. “You’re real.” God he was so lame. Get it together, Todd! He tried to scramble to his feet but sort of ate shit and fell onto his side.
“What a fucking week. Torture, torture, with a side of more torture, and now The Replacement is here! Just my luck!” Jason wheezed from his pitiful place on the floor. He felt hysterical laughter bubbling up and didn’t try to contain it. It wasn’t like he could sink much lower at this point.
“I didn't mean actually lay there. Are you hurt? What did they do to you?”
Jason rolled his eyes and didn’t bother trying to sit up again. He looked The Replacement over. Clean clothes, no visible marks or bruises, he’d either just arrived or he was getting the princess treatment. Either way, it pissed Jason off. “None of your business, Replacement.” He had those stupid explosive collars on too, so he wasn’t here of his own volition. “Why the hell are you here? Don’t tell me I’m late to the ex-Robin party. Is Dick here too? Is Grandpa Ra’s rounding us up now that the demon spawn has donned the tights?”
He cut The Replacement off when his mouth opened, no doubt with some witty retort. “That was rhetorical, I don’t fucking care.” The dizziness was starting to fade but the headache was getting worse. So was the sweating.
That made no sense. What was Ra’s playing at? Even without the headaches and time lost Jason was pretty sure putting this little mystery together was out of his depth. Wait, wasn’t The Replacement supposed to be a mini Bruce? Surely he could figure this shit out. But that required communication, and probably cooperation too. Gross. He was far too sober for this.
“What are the odds B has some terribly invasive tracker installed in you somewhere? And Creep Al Ghul didn’t remove it? God, I can’t believe I’m actually considering rescue by the Big Man as a viable option. He doesn’t have the best track record on getting here in time for my sorry ass.” Was he talking? Those were supposed to be inside thoughts.
Shit, the little bird was gonna take that as an invitation to talk more.
“I do have one, but it's not going to be very useful right now. Everyone is off-world. Ra’s timed this too well to be a coincidence.” He was looking at Jason way too intensely, and it was getting a little creepy.
“Well, fuck, I’ve been here for three weeks by my count!” He rolled over so he wouldn't have to deal with the staring, but then immediately turned back around because feeling the intensity of that stare on his back was even worse.
Jason hadn’t ever seen The Replacement without his mask at this close range. It was weird. By all accounts it should be like staring at a younger Bruce. That was how everyone described him at least, but Jason couldn’t see the resemblance besides the black hair and blue eyes. They weren’t even the same shade of blue. Tim’s eyes were electric, Bruce’s were frosty and distant. Okay maybe he had a concussion. Why else would he be thinking about The Replacement’s eyes so fucking much?
“And Ra’s Al Ghoulish hasn’t even shown up to monologue at me yet! Lemme guess, you’re his favorite,” Jason leered as he said it, noting the difference in thread count on their prison garb. “Did he stand there and watch you wake up from his ninja night night drugs? I bet he did. Creepy old men looking for proteges just get one glance at you and start salivating, huh?”
“Ha ha.” He said in a monotone. “Although he did throw me an evil tea party. Maybe I should be flattered.”
“Ew,” Jason shuddered at the mental image of Ra’s in an English garden and a floppy hat. “Not flattering. Do not be flattered. It would honestly be less creepy if he got down on one knee with a ring.”
A small, petty part of Jason wanted to be jealous. Even Ra’s Al Ghul would pick Timothy Drake over Jason Todd. That seemed to be the running theme these days. But a larger part of him wanted absolutely nothing to do with Ra’s or any of his attention, and would happily turn it over to The Replacement.
“It's not the first time he’s tried something like this with me. I guess Bruce hasn't been giving him enough attention lately.” His eyes darted to something in the corner of the room, before resuming their assessment of Jason. “So you have no idea why you're here?”
Ah. Tim had clocked a camera. Jason was loathe to admit it, but the kid was sharp. He groaned and rolled his body back into a sitting position, managing to get his knees under him. “Well he’s gotta be pissed about the new new Robin being out of his clutches, but fuck if I know what that has to do with me. And I don’t think he was attached to the human trafficker I was disemboweling when his ninjas jumped me,” Any real theories he’d been forming went out the window now that The Replacement was here.
“Yeah.” Tim laid back on the bed and folded his arms like a pillow behind his head, like he wasn't bothered about anything, the little shit. “I can't really see any reason for you to be here either, no offense. Maybe Dick was too hard to grab so he settled for you.”
“You-“ Jason snarled. Fine. He’d tried the friendly co-captives shit for two whole minutes and now it wasn’t even him who’d fucked it up. “Self-centered little prick! You really think you’re so fucking special, huh? Tim Fucking Drake, the Boy Wonder!” He lurched onto his feet with a great heave and managed to stay up. “Newsflash Princess, nobody gives a flying shit about you!” Oh he was itching for a fight, he could feel the rush of it in his veins. As soon as he could get his legs to work that twiggy bitch was in for an ass-whooping.
“At least I’m still invited to family dinners. And please. This whole plot is clearly about me. Ra’s has been trying to give me an evil internship for years. He beat the shit out of you for three weeks. Maybe it's his weird way of letting me know he likes me, seeing as you tried to kill me a few times. It’s like a peace offering.”
Just what the hell was this kid playing at? Was he trying to get killed? “Ready to jump ship already, huh? I guess being Ra’s’ child bride is a good second option now that Bruce has tossed you out with the bath water.” Jason took a menacing step forward, nice and loud, and watched how all of the kid’s muscles tensed for just a second before going back to lounging. “He didn’t even pretend to wait for something to happen to you, just pulled out your old tights as soon as the Hellspawn swung into the Batcave. I guess you should be thanking Ra’s for wanting to scoop up Bruce’s leftovers.”
Tim yawned and crossed his legs. "Can you shut up? I'm trying to work this out, and it'll be easier if I just pretend you're not here. I'm surprised that everyone always forgets about you when you're this loud.”
Sometimes Jason wondered about what he’d become, if he was doing the right thing or the wrong thing, if hurting and killing the scum of the earth made him scum too. This was not one of those times.
In two long strides he was at the bed and pinning Tim’s legs with his own. He had all of the basic countermeasures drilled so deeply into his bones that blocking the kid’s retaliatory strikes was instinctual. It took seconds to have him pinned to the mattress and a forearm putting most of Jason’s body weight on his trachea. They’d both been trained by Batman, but Jason had at least five inches of height and eighty pounds of muscle on the kid. The kid was scrappy, Jason would give him that, but Jason was brutal and swift.
Blue eyes flashed with an emotion Jason wasn't fast enough to read before they were screwed shut. The kid’s face was turning bright pink. Choking was a good look on him. It made Jason want to press even harder and really watch him squirm.
What Jason really wanted was a good fight. A blood pumping, knuckle bruising, lip splitting fight. He hadn’t had a good brawl in ages and he was hungry for it. Or maybe he just needed to get laid. He clearly wasn’t going to get either anytime soon. Sighing in frustration he started to back off. Beating the shit out of Tim Drake wasn’t fun if he wasn’t going to really fight for it, and Jason couldn’t figure out what his fucking angle was.
Any additional thoughts on the kid and his weird ass behavior were cut short when gas started pouring from the tiled ceiling.
“Well shit.” He let go of the kid and flopped onto the other side of the bed. At least he wouldn’t get a concussion this time. Robin protocol was to hold his breath until he absolutely couldn’t, but he had been gassed enough times in this stupid place that he didn’t care. The Replacement probably would have tried if he hadn’t been choked moments ago. Instead he was still hacking and sucking in air as a survival response and the gas took him out in seconds. Huh, Jason thought as he started to go under himself, the kid’s kind of cute when he wasn’t awake to ruin it by talking.