#(and yes i know that robin!jason technically wears dicks robin uniform

[readingismyoxygen]

A liar, bug and bird ch4

ch1 / ch2 / ch3 / ch4 / ch5 / ch6

The time they spent in Gotham became crazier every day. Lila tried to stay as quiet as possible, those two men kept appearing on every tour, sometimes with a mystery girl around their age, and the amount of Gotham rogues/ sort of villains they ran into was just too high to be called a simple coincidence. Two days after their run-in with Harley and Ivy, the Riddler decided to crash their tour of Gotham’s Museum of Modern Art. They were one large group, just walking into one of the halls that was relatively empty, when suddenly every exit was closed by metal bars (think Copycat at the Louvre). They looked around bewildered, trying to find some way to get out, but before anyone could even do anything, a sinister disembodied laugh sounded through the hall.

“Riddle me this, young children. We’re five little items of an everyday sort; you’ll find us all in ‘a tennis court’. What are we?”

The class finally saw someone emerge from the shadows. He was wearing a hideous green suit with purple question marks that made it even more dreadful, and a hat that was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, according to Chloé, who was sure that Marinette would agree with her. While the Riddler sauntered towards them, leaving the few other people alone, Jason and Dick made sure to discreetly warn their family. Jason pressed a hidden button on his phone to activate the distress signal, while Dick called Damian so that the rest could listen to what was happening inside. As soon as he picked up and heard the riddle-loving villain instead of hearing Grayson, in combination with Jason’s signal, he went to get Mari so she knew what happened as well. When he told her, she just sighed and said:

“Honestly, after Harls and Ivy, i should’ve seen this coming. Let’s go.”

Meanwhile. The class was terrified. This was their third villain in about as many days. Speak about rotten luck.

“So, does anyone know the answer? If not, I’ll maybe have to maim someone to give you some motivation, no? What about a more simple one? Who has hair like the night sky, a heart of gold and classmates deceived by lies that are told?”

“Wh-what are you talking ab-about? W-we don’t kn-know anyone l-like that!” Alix tried to be brave, but it was clear that she, like the rest of her classmates, was unnerved by the one that held them hostage.

“You don’t?” He acted surprised. “So,  you’re not Mari’s class then?”

“Y-you know Marinette too?” Someone said from the relative safety of the group. Alix thought it was Rose, but wasn’t entirely sure.

“‘Course I do! She’s got almost every one of us wrapped around her finger! You do not want to know the amount of heart attacks that has caused her boyfriend, t’s positively hilarious and cute at the same time to see those two together!”

Riddler’s demeanor changed in an instant, from cold, calculating and threatening villain to a happy and proud gushing man while talking about Marinette. It seemed he was going to keep on talking, but the windows were busted in before he could and three figures entered. Black Bat, Robin and a relatively new bird everyone called Wren (because of her color scheme as well as her being seemingly temporary and the bird being migratory, and both were tiny) stood in front of the class, and Wren was the first one to speak.

“So, what are you up to this time, Nygma?”

“While hello pretty birds, just teaching those heathens a bit of respect, while letting people answer my riddles of course!”

“Of course”, Robin answered sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, “and of course you didn’t threaten them about what would happen if they didn’t know the answer.”

“Oh no, that I did”, he stated, sounding proud. “This class has been very disrespectful towards someone very dear to me, so now they will have to accept  the consequences.”

The three rolled their eyes, knowing who Riddler referred to, and Marinette as Wren made a mental note to ask the Rogues to lay off her class. They deserved it, but she didn’t want the villains going back to Arkham for petty revenge. She had a silent conversation with Robin before saying something again.

“Alright, how about this. If I can answer your riddles correctly, everyone goes free.”

“And if you  don’t?” Riddler stated curiously.

“Who says I won’t?” She threw back, a calculating smirk on her face.

“I’ll take the challenge, pretty bird! Riddle me this, what is Joan of Arc made of?”

Wren grinned. Tikki would love that one for sure.

“Maid of Orleans”, she answered easily.

“Alright, riddle me this, how many sides does a circle have?”

“Two, the inside and the outside.”

“You’re a smart little bird, aren’t you? Riddle me this, what is it that no man wants to have, but no man wants to lose either?”

She smiled maliciously. “A lawsuit.” That was something her class was going to have to deal with very soon, and she couldn’t wait to see their reactions.

The Riddler grew more and more frustrated. This new little bird was able to keep up with him, no matter how difficult the riddle!

“Alright, I’ve got one for you”, Wren said after a couple more riddles that were pretty easy for her to answer (she invented some of those with him, so duh). “What is green and purple and just lost his hostages?”

“What?!”

With him being so focused on trying to beat Wren, he hadn’t noticed Black Bat and Robin getting everyone out through the windows.

“And now it’s your turn, mister fashion disaster.” With one well-aimed punch she knocked him out while he was too busy berating himself over being so unfocused. She felt a bit guilty for doing that, because as Marinette they got along great as she invented some riddles with him sometimes, when she wasn’t busy and came to visit everyone in Arkham. Still, she couldn’t just let him escape, so with a heavy heart she let the police take him back.

After making sure everyone got out unscathed, she, Robin and Black Bat went back to the Cave to change out of their uniforms. Damian saw she wasn’t her usual bubbly self, and could guess what caused it. 

“Hey Shieae Alqamar, I know you didn’t like to do that, but it was necessary to get the class out of there”, he told her softly. He guided them to one of the sofas near the fireplace in the living room and let her cuddle up to him, hiding her face in his chest.

“Yes, I know that, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like I betrayed Nygma for the class that does nothing but belittle me.”

“I know you feel like that, that’s why I might’ve made sure his cuffs weren’t as secure as they technically should be”, he whispered in her ear. Yes, the Riddler was technically still a villain, but every rogue’s behavior had improved a lot since Mari went to visit them regularly. She really brightened up everyone she came in contact with, which is why Damian was okay with Riddler escaping a bit sooner than he usually would. As long as his Moonbeam went to find him and tell him to lay low, he wasn’t really worried about something similar happening very soon.

[taiblogcomics]

Robin the Readership of Plot Development

Hey there, beta chat programs. Looks like it's time again to review another terrible issue of the New 52's Teen Titans. But not just any issue, as I intoned at the end of last week's review! No, my friends. We've got a gimmick to this issue~

So, it's the anniversary of the New 52's beginning. Like, not today. Back in September, actually. But in the comic's timeline that we're following. It'd been a year of publishing their reboot, and I don't know if you remember this from the last time we covered it eight years ago when it was new, but what they did to celebrate was this: Zero Month. All of the comics--at least, all of the ones that hard survived as far as 12 issues--spent the anniversary month putting out a 0th issue to explain some backstory. It helped it some cases! Others... not so much~

Here's the cover:

So every cover of the Zero Month was like this: washed-out grey background, character breaking on through to the other side, and not much else. Some folks who remember back that far might remember Catwoman #0 having an infamous pose, but otherwise all these covers were identical in composition. There's really not much to say about it. When every issue released that month had roughly identical covers, none really stood out, which is not what you want in a cover~

So the comic opens with the taunting phrase of "Before the New 52"! Which it's really not. "Before the New 52" would imply the old continuity. But all they really mean is "before the events of issue 1". Anyway, this is an origin story for Tim Drake. We start with three full-page splashes of him doing a bunch of gymnastics for a crowd, which includes his parents. I was afraid it was going to jump right into the essential parts of Dick Grayson's origin, but with Olympic prospects instead of circus stuff. Fortunately, nothing happens here, and he finishes his routine with no ill effects and heads out to meet his parents.

Like in the previous continuity, Tim starts with both parents. Which is noted by the person watching him in secret--Batman. Yes, in this continuity, Batman's already scouting Tim rather than Tim seeking out Batman of his own will. Batman notes that he doesn't want to recruit a new Robin, not so soon after Jason, and not while Tim still has a family. That's... kind of ominous, Batman. ...Are you the villain? Speaking of Tim's family, though, his dad meets him in an extremely ominously-lit room and tells his son that it's okay to want more and be bigger than just this family. Come on, Dad, that foreshadowing is way too much.

Just to prove me wrong, Tim sneaks out of his room that night to go apply for a job: Batman's apprentice. Heck, he'll even settle for an unpaid internship. He's deduced that Batman's HQ is in the old Gotham Aviary. He's wrong, but Batman is content to let him think he's right. In fact, every clue he's followed has been something Batman's planted. Tim puts out the armour-piercing bit, though: what happened to the previous Robin? Batman scowls and disappears, telling Tim he'll never see him again. That seems highly unlikely, given how many comics Batman was appearing in at the time~

Tim's not ready to give up, though. See, he wants to follow his dad's advice and become something bigger than not only his family, but than himself too. And so he keeps trying to find ways to get Batman's attention. Unfortunately, he gets someone else's as well. See, he's been using his hacker powers to transfer money out of criminals' accounts into charitable organisations. This is pretty cool. The problem is, he's now targeted the Penguin's stash. The Cobblepot fortune has been stole, and the Penguin is big mad about it.

The Penguin traces the activity back to Tim--I guess he's not that good of a hacker--and sends some goons to his house. Batman arrives just in time to save Tim from a shootout. And to this book's credit, it doesn't end in the tragedy you think it will. Tim's parents both survive the gunfire and are placed in witness protection. But to keep them safe--and to give Tim that "life bigger than this family" they keep talking about--they agree to have Batman look after Tim instead. And Batman decides that the best way to keep an eye on Tim is to make him his partner, just like he wanted. Superman may be the Man of Steel, but Batman is the man of irony~

And so, Tim Drake forges his own identity as Batman's partner. He opts not to wear Jason's old uniform, mostly out of respect for Jason, but also because have you seen Jason's old Robin uniform? In fact, to set him aside as his own identity even more, he opts to call himself Red Robin rather than just Robin. Sorry, Tim, but "Batman and Red Robin" will never catch on as a popular name. Anyway, he's already begun his research, looking into stories of metahumans his own age. And... that's the end! It ends on yet another splash page, depicting him and Batman as crime-fighting partners, even though this is the zeroth issue for a team book without Batman in it~

This issue... is not that bad. It’s a fair origin for Tim Drake, I suppose. I’ve never actually read A Lonely Place of Dying, which was Tim’s origin in the pre-New 52 continuity, so I don’t know how it compares. At the very least, this one surprised me for a New 52 origin. I’m very glad they didn’t kill off Tim’s parents, even if they more or less removed them from the story anyway. That’s always what made Tim unique, that he still had supportive parents around. And while they may no longer be around in the technical sense, at least it didn’t end in gunshots and tragedy.

The other major change is mostly Tim’s motivation. In this, it seems Tim’s doing it more or less to prove something to himself, to make himself into something bigger. In the original? Again, I haven’t read it, but my impression of the story was that Tim noticed something change in Batman’s demeanor after Jason Todd’s death. He thought Batman needed a Robin to balance himself out, and volunteered himself for the job. And that’s what impressed Batman: that Tim volunteered for it, rather than letting tragedy lead him there like it did for himself or Dick Grayson. And that, I think, is a bit of what’s lost in this origin. And that Batman’s so pissy about it. “You didn’t discover anything that I didn’t let you find out” and all that. That’s dangerously close to the same rhetoric as Harvest~

Next week, we’ll get back to the main story, and the story will get back to sucking~

[adreamfromnevermore]

Shadows on the Rooftops

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196670/chapters/47862427

Chapter 2 - Whispers in the Dark

Gotham, couldn’t be that different from Central. And he was looking for exactly one hero. One that going off his name, dressed as a giant bat. It couldn’t be that hard for the fastest man alive right?

Barry was practically vibrating with excitement. Tugging at the sleeves of the leather jacket he’d decided would help him fit in, he tried to school his face into a scowl. Glaring into the mirror on the wall as Hal laughed behind him. Barry swung around with a huff, glare slipping before returning twofold.

“If you aren’t going to help, then why are you even hear.” Ok so maybe he was really just whining but hey, he’d been tasked with an important job! Intel gathering! He was never tasked with intel gathering. Diana always said he didn’t quite have the mannerism for it. Too chattery.  

“Nah man, I’ll help, I’ll help.” Hal tugged his own jacket off as he stepped forward to lean against the wall. “Just uh, when exactly are you planning to go down there? Cause it’s getting kind of late man.”

“Well, as the newspapers said, the Bats only seen at night!” Swinging back towards the mirror he shuffled through the pile of newspaper clippings he’d printed the night before. “See! If you’re hunting something nocturnal, like our Bat here, you have to go out at night.”

Swinging around once more before Hal could even respond Barry was off. And back again a second later, a baseball cap clutched in one hand. “Do you think the hat’s too much?”

Hal shrugged, smirk pulling into wide grin as he leaned back. “Man, I’ve never been to Gotham. I’ve got no idea what they wear up there.”

“Up there? You’re on like, the opposite coast bro, I don’t think up there cuts it.” As Barry turned towards him, newspaper clippings quickly tucked away into a drawstring back that he slung across his shoulder. Hal laughed again.

“Better start heading down there man. Don’t want to miss anything cause you’re up here right?” And he was off.

Gotham watch out, Flash was on his way!

“Well? Have you finished your homework?” Bruce’s voice echoed through the cave as he slipped up behind them. A chorus of affirmative following it before the lot of them turned towards him.

“So, who’s going out tonight boss man? Spoiler getting to see the light of day? Uh night? Moon light? Whatever.” Stephanie was on her feet, cloak and uniform already on.

“Spoiler will be out tonight. You’ll be running with Red Robin, I need the two of you to look into any rumours about Scarecrow. He may still be locked up in Akham but word on the street agrees that he has something planned.” Turning away from Stephanie as she punched a fist into the air he instead looked towards Damian and Dick. Both already in uniform and clearly waiting for the go ahead to head out.

“Dev says Jason isn’t patrolling for the next 3 days. Remember that, Barbara won’t be out tonight either, so if you have need for backup Kate and Bette will be on standby.” Turning away Bruce slipped through the doors to the locker room as the chatter started up once more.

“Steph, you’re kidding. You spilled coffee on Superman? Superman.”

“What else was I supposed to do? Walk up and ask if he wanted an interview?”

Barry had barely arrived before the sun was well and truly down. The moon rising to take its place in the sky, and Gotham’s criminal underbelly slipping out of the woodwork. Not that they didn’t have a presence in the day time, he just hadn’t been there to witness it. And well that was moving beyond the scope of why he was in Gotham just after the sun had gone down to begin with.  

His subtle questioning of people on the streets had slowly led him further and further into the city. And now, standing under the only working street light on the block Barry couldn’t help his own unease. The gang of what he was pretty sure were thugs that seemed to be wandering the other alley seemed just as nervous.

Eyes searching the sky every time someone so much as whispered, and hands clenched in their pockets. He was thinking guns. Maybe a knife or two, it was hard to tell in Gotham. Back in Central most thugs he dealt with stuck to knives or bats, guns were rare when they expected him to pop up.

Then again, maybe they didn’t expect a hero and were waiting for another gang to fight?

Oh well. That was unimportant, what was important was finding the Bat. Then again, maybe this was his ticket?

He’d been waiting nearly an hour before something changed. The truck that pulled up was empty, and well that was fairly disappointing up until the moment when they started filling it and then Barry was well and truly interested. The odd canisters looked like oxygen but, from the way they were handled he figured they were probably much more dangerous.

And well, he was here to find the Bat yes. But it wouldn’t be an issue if he stepped in? It would only take a moment for him to change and then he could-

The street light above him flickered once, twice, and went out.

The sudden terrified scream put a halt to any and all plans he may have been making. A thin twisted creature seeming to slip free of the shadows at the same time as an odd piercing howl filled the air and a creature dressed in a purple cloak seemed to appear out of thin air atop the truck.

Hooded and cloaked all he could see of it was a void where the face should’ve been. And then it was gone moving amongst the suddenly panicked thugs as the other creature rose, limbs bending and twisting in what might have been a poor imitation at humanity. Before it rose to full height, and he caught a glimpse of what may have once been a boy. Skin pale and pitch black eyes surrounded by blood and dirt that streaked across its face.  

Maybe he had missed something.

As its mouth opened, revealing what looked like sharp teeth, an odd inhuman chirp echoed through the air. And the howl returned, the purple cloaked figure pinning a man to the ground in seconds and rising slowly a moment later.

The void where its face should have been twisting and changing as a face seemed to form across it. Male and pale with terror. Barry felt his breath catch in his throat as he froze staring in his own sudden burst of terror at the face of the thug the creature had pinned to the ground, and then the mouth began to open. Almost grotesque in the way it seemed to shift and show the void beneath.

Twisted english echoing through the alley as it turned towards the thugs still standing. “Who?” And cut off with another vicious howl as part of the face almost seemed to tear and twist and then the cloaked figure was gone. And the one in red and black was all that was left.

Moving towards the thugs it seemed almost to twist in and out of reality, and then it was on them. And in seconds the thugs were down. All of them save one on the ground unconscious and injured as it turned towards the last.

“I uh, I don’t know what that meant man?” Stumbling back the thug almost seemed to weigh his own loyalty, or his life, before meeting the creatures eyes. “Crane, boss said he thought the job mighta been for Crane but I don’t know! It was done through a middle man!” And as he spoke the creature froze, head cocked to the side like a bird.

And then its head jerked forward in what Barry thought might have been an imitation of a nod, and it was gone. Seemingly slipping into the shadows it had come from as the man screamed and was pulled upwards by his feet. Wire coiled around his ankles as he hung, suspended in mid air.

Barry had barely calmed his racing heart when a hand grasped the back of his jacket and he was spun around and slammed to the ground. A purple cloak swaying above him as his eyes locked onto a twisting void where a face should of been. And he blinked, screwing his eyes shut as an odd chirping sound came from his left and the figure above him shifted. Shaking him lightly as he forced himself to look once more at the creature above him and bit back a yelp as his own face stared down at him.

“Leave.” The voice was twisted and broken, his face seeming to break even as the words were uttered and the void once more filled the space where the face should have been.

“Unwelcome. Unwanted.” And that was the other one. A pair of inky black eyes in the darkness as it crept forward, drawing back before it had reached the light. Voice odd and twisted, almost too young for the face that watched him.

Clark had been right. There was no way these things were human, and no matter what Diana said they were beyond terrifying.

He blinked and they were gone, leaving him flat on his back just in time to hear the sound of sirens drawing closer and stumble to his feet. Glancing over as he stepped back and into the shadows behind him, he was almost surprised to see the first man the purple one had taken down beginning to shift only to slump back to the ground as the first cop cars arrived.

Stumbling back and further into the alley Barry forced himself to breath and turned. Taking off a second later without a destination in mind.

Well, there was technically a destination. He was getting the fuck out of Gotham, and then maybe he’d take a breath and pause and think through whatever had just happened.

There had been two of them, and if he was honest with himself he didn’t think either of them matched what they knew of the Bat. Which meant there were three in Gotham. Three, how the hell had they missed three new vigilantes popping up?

Sliding too a stop Barry let himself fall heavily against the side of a building as he surveyed his surroundings. Metropolis, made sense. Maybe he could snag Supes and they could talk about whatever twilight zone Gotham was.

And he’d thought Supes ghost girl had been wild. The purple one had stolen his face, what was even the purpose of that? Aside from the scare factor?

Sliding to a stop two rooftops away Steph let herself lean into TIm’s side. “You are terrifying and I will never get used to whatever contortionist crap Nightwing’s been teaching you.” As the other stilled beside her and turned, face mostly obscured by the mask of grime he’d applied.

“Like you’re one to talk, your mask copies faces well enough that they can be recognized now. Its fucking terrifying Spoiler.” Grinning back she leaned away for a moment to watch the streak disappear. And then almost laughed as she remembered he couldn’t see her face. “I’m laughing at you behind the mask you know.”

“Bat, the Flash is gone. Spoiler and I warned him away.” And Tim was back on track and completely focused on their task.

“We’ve tracked Crane’s supplier down, but the goons moving it didn’t even know for certain whether they were working for Crane or not they only guessed.”

“Yes. We’ll head back to the cave, we’ve run out of leads for the night. And I want to un-encrypt the chip I picked up at the first location.”

Leaning against the wall Stephanie was silent as she listened to the chatter over the comms and watched the cops swarm over the newest location they’d tipped them off too. As the comms fell silent once more Tim joined her in watching.

“Ready?” His voice was barely a hiss as he stepped up onto the small ledge.

Laughing Steph stepped passed him, and let herself fall. Already activating the grapple to swing herself back up as she heard him leap off behind her.

Barry didn’t have to wander long before he caught sight of Superman. Hanging high above him, almost as if waiting for a crime to occur.

“Supes! Down here!” And maybe shouting hadn’t been necessary but Barry was pretty sure he was still shaking from earlier. As the other swung around and then easily dropped down to join him, raising an eyebrow as he got closer.

“I thought you would be in Gotham for the night?” Barry was shaking his head before Clark had even made it halfway through the sentence.

“No, uh uh. You thought your bloody ghost girl was bad? Try a face stealing void creature!” For a moment Clark stared down at him, seemingly lost for words before dropping the last few feet to the ground.

“Did you say face stealing void creature? Is that what the Bat is?” And once more Barry was shaking his head.

“Oh no, no, no, that isn’t even the half of it.there was this, this, well, it was, I don;t even know! It was kinda like a bird I guess? Kept chirping like one, and well I don’t think english was really either of their suits.” Ringing his hands he couldn’t help but glance upwards as if expecting one of the two to appear once more. “It almost looked like it had blood all over its face, and its eyes were pitch black! All the way, no white’s at all. Everything else it wore was black and red, and you know now that I’m thinking about it. I think it had some kind of cloak er, maybe wings or something?”

He wasn’t surprised when Clark watched him silently for a moment before nodding slowly. “There were two? We haven’t heard anything about a second hero. We’d barely heard about a first.” Shaking his head with a frustrated sight Clark turned away for a moment.

“We’ve been looking into this Bat for barely a week, and it’s already thrown how many curveballs at us? Barry, I’ll call another meeting for tomorrow.” Lifting off the ground once more Clark paused before letting out a soft curse as he swept one hand up and through his air. “Who ever can make it, and then we can discuss what our next step should be.”

Nodding Barry took a few steps back and shrugged. “Sure, sure Supes. See ya then I guess.” And Superman was gone leaving Barry alone in the alley.

“Welp.” Turning around Barry shook himself out, and took off sliding to a stop just inside the small forensic lab of his precinct. He had time to take care of a few things, might as well get it done if he wasn’t spending the night in Gotham.

And besides after that? He sure as hell wasn’t sleeping.

Diana had only just returned to her apartment, nearly one in the morning when the alert was sent out. A meeting scheduled for the next day, though not a pressing one.

And that was enough to tell her just what it was about. Her phone was by her ear before she’d finished reading the message on her comm. And unsurprisingly, her call was answered after precisely 3 rings.

“Diana.”

“Bruce.”

“Is something-”

“What did your kids do to Flash and how traumatized is he going to be tomorrow?”

And well, that wasn’t quite how she’d meant to word it. But the startled laugh she recieved was worth it.

If only for the fact that she’d startled a laugh out of the original Bat himself.

[ambiengrey]

Shapeshifter

I read this post on tumblr; and felt inspired. Sidenote: the second half I wrote the next day, so it ended up in another tense entirely. Idek.

Bruce passed through the grandfather clock in his study and trudged down the steps to the Batcave at a glacial pace, rubbing at sore eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

He’d only just returned home from a too-long business trip spent clothed in the persona of Brucie Wayne, which, while it did afford him the opportunity nowadays to gush a little and mostly boast about his children and their successes as he was expected to do – and secretly, or not so secretly enjoyed – it was a tiresome half-act amongst the world’s upper-crust, judgemental riches nonetheless.

He was happy to be home.

He’d be happy to go back to patrolling as well, though it was getting to be too early for that. The sun would be on the rise in a couple of hours, and by this time in general, he and the kids were usually headed home.

Bruce had no doubt, thus, that this was where he would find his three sons and daughter – coming in from what he could only hope had been a relatively quiet patrol, all of them home safe now and none the worse for wear – which was more the reason he was heading for the cave than any desire to squeeze in an hour or two’s patrol before sunrise himself.

There was chatter from the computer console, Bruce could hear when he at last reached the foot of the stairs, and when he looked up, focusing his tired eyes, he could see Tim in his chair, still in uniform. Cass sat on the desk next to the keyboard, legs swinging, and Dick and Damian were the ones speaking; only, as Bruce approached, it wasn’t their voices that caught his attention.

Instead, there was a somewhat indistinct mutter coming from—

Bruce frowned, and concentrated on the muffled, incoherent speech, trying to determine—

The…case…?

He turned, but – there was no one there.

It was, as always, only the spare uniform of his once second son, suspended in its glass case as if worn by a rigid, invisible body standing at attention.

My soldier.

My fault.

“A good soldier. A good ‘soldier.’ A good soldier.”

Bruce blinked, startled when the indistinguishable muttering suddenly became words in his ears.

But, still – where was it—?

“Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed me. Never avenged me. Never avenged me. Never-never-never—”

Bruce glanced all around, lost in his head, entranced by the voice – Jason’s voice – as he tried desperately to find where the young man was hiding, or—

Or, was this all in Bruce’s head?

Was he hallucinating his once dead son’s voice in his head? Was this the fatigue getting to him?

Or, something else? Why would it now, suddenly—?

“Betrayed-betrayed-betrayed. Never avenged me. You let the clown live.”

What was going on—?

“Father!” Damian’s voice cut in through Jason’s, all but startling Bruce out of his stupor.

He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, hands coming to rest on his youngest’s small shoulders. “Damian…” he half-sighed. “I apologize, I was—distracted.”

“Tt,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“You’re not going mad, B,” Tim, who’d spun the chair around, said, too loudly. “We hear him, too.”

“Ear buds, Timmy,” Dick admonished, pointing, at the same time that Cass reached over from behind Tim to pop one ear bud out of his ear.

“Oh,” Tim said, taking the one from Cass and removing the other, “Heh, right. Sorry…”

Bruce only frowned harder.

“Honestly, Father,” Damian started, sounding exasperated and annoyed as he shrugged Bruce’s still-lingering hands from his shoulders. “Are you blind?”

Bruce looked down at him, and Damian, scowling, arms crossed, tilted his head in the direction of the case. “Look again.”

Bruce spared his other three children a brief glance, Jason’s voice distinct in his ears, never stopping, before he, if somewhat cautiously, looked back over at the case. “I don’t—” he started, feeling somewhat ridiculous and—exposed—with all his children’s eyes on him as he looked to that – but then, he did see it.

Nothing in the case or on it, but rather—next to it, seemingly facing it.

Like boulders, the same grey as the rest of the cave floor and walls, only, they weren’t rocks, they hardly seemed solid in fact, and the longer he looked at them the less they even seemed still.

They were just shapes.

A collection of grey, indiscriminate shapes, falling over and bumping into each other, moving one moment and still, almost unnoticeable the next, moving in a little cluster, all of them a heap barely reaching Damian’s height.

Moreover, and this was the most important and most alarming thing – Jason’s voice appeared to be coming from the mound of shapes.

“Let the clown live-live-live. Betrayed me. Never avenged me. Never-never-never—”

“What,” Bruce started, only somewhat unintentionally sounding like The Batman, “Exactly, am I looking at?”

“It’s Jason…”

“Todd.”

“Jason.”

“Hm-hm.”

A beat passed – “Betrayed-betrayed-betrayed—” – before Bruce breathed – in, deeply, and exhaled in a huff, turning back to his children, all of whom stood watching him with varying expressions of apprehension.

“Say that again,” he said slowly, “Use, smaller words, this time.”

“Uhhhhh...” Dick put a finger to his chin, his other hand on his hip, looking like he was genuinely thinking of smaller words. “It’s…Jason.”

“The one who failed.”

“Jason ‘once-a-Robin-always-an-ass’ Todd?”

Cassandra gestured with her hands, forming vague shapes, “Your son.”

“Tt.”

Bruce couldn’t tell if they were being serious or if this entire situation was just an awful prank. Had they gotten him on April Fools?

He didn’t remember.

“Just, explain how this happened,” he instructed, and at once four people opened their mouths to reply. Bruce threw up a halting hand, “Only one speak.”

“Todd was being an imbecile!” Damian declared at once.

“Dami!” Dick rebuked short on his heels, coming to stand by his youngest brother, dropping a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “That’s not—…technically untrue,” Damian smirked. “But let’s not point any fingers,” Dick intoned meaningfully, glancing sideways in the direction of the case, and…Jason, apparently. A bundle of shapes.

Bruce’s estranged son was a bundle of shapes.

Well.

“Died-died-died—didn’t die. You let the clown live.”

“There was a magician in town while you were away,” Tim started up, speaking quickly, when a momentary silence brought Jason’s voice back to their ears. “He and Jason apparently fought, and then there was a spell and now Jason is—” Tim paused, half-gesturing; Jason’s clumsy, chanting grey form speaking for itself.

“Shapes,” Bruce filled in the word anyway, brows furrowing even more.

“Shapeshifter,” Cass corrected.

“What?”

“At first he changed in normal ways, and, at will,” Dick began. “Different hairstyles, different hair colours – blonde, redhead, he had a little white streak in his fringe, and a really obnoxiously chiselled jaw at one point—” Dick gestured at his own chin with a thumb and forefinger, lips pursed, when Tim apparently decided it was time to cut in—

“But then he started changing into other things—”

“A dragon,” Damian supplied. “Which would have been somewhat impressive if he wasn’t such a tiny thing that couldn’t breathe fire or fly – he just sat there, flopping his little wings, fwap-fwap,” Damian gestured with his hands, scowling.

“You thought he was cute,” Cassandra said, having come up next to her littlest brother, to poke him in the arm.

“I did no such thing!” Damian snapped at once, hands fisted and ears tinged pink.

“Wanted to keep him. As a pet.”

“Quiet, Cain!”

“The robot he turned into next was…interesting,” Tim went on, before Bruce could give into his impatience and demand someone finish explaining. “But it was around there things went a little……haywire.”

Dick snickered, briefly, “But, we’re figuring it out. The magician said the spell would wear off eventually, the timeframe for it depending on the person,” he shrugged. “Nothing else to do but wait it out, apparently. He seemed sincere enough—”

“After some persuasion,” Damian mumbled.

“But just in case, we’ve been researching every known account of shape shifting caused by magic, and/or superpowers, permanent and otherwise. We’ll fix him if it comes to that,” Dick squeezed Damian’s shoulder; more to comfort himself than the younger kid, Bruce knew.

“You let the clown live-live-live.”

“He can’t…change back of his own volition?”

Tim shook his head, “That doesn’t seem to be the case. After the dragon, when he started shifting into things that weren’t human anymore, it seemed like he...”

“Got lost,” Cass said, solemn.

“Yeah…he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on at all. He’s stuck on…just the one thing.”

“He says the same things over and over,” Dick added quietly, the atmosphere in the cave having noticeably turned sombre. “Just stays there in the corner…by the case,” a tiny hint of disapproval in Dick’s tone at the word, that, Bruce knew, wasn’t for Jason, but rather for him. “Swears at you sometimes.”

“Hm.”

“Never-never-never—”

“Do you have any reason to suspect your magician might have been lying – about the spell wearing off?”

“Um,” the kids exchanged glances, before the boys collectively turned to Cass.

She gave Bruce a look, and he knew she knew what his intentions were depending on that answer.

“No.”

“Are you certain?” he asked pointedly, earning another distinct look.

“Yes,” she said, firmly.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. The backs of his eyes were burning with fatigue and—something else.

“Get some rest then. You have things to do in the morning.”

None of them moved, however.

“We can all stay, Bruce, really. We don’t mind,” Dick said, and there was no tongue-click from Damian, who had his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and his arms crossed again.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, “It’s no bother,” even as his fist clenched tighter round his ear buds.

Cassie gave him a small smile, “Come,” she ordered, grabbing Tim by the elbow and reaching for Dick’s free hand. “Sleep-time. Now,” she tugged. “Everyone – in Bruce’s bed. The biggest one.”

Dick exhaled a laugh, “Yeah, okay. C’mon, Little D,” he was already moving, half-guiding Damian along with his hand on the boy’s shoulder, but the entire procession halted when Damian stopped short not a full two paces along.

His arms tightened against his chest for only a moment, before he uncrossed them and spun back towards Bruce, determined, “Father—” but he came up short, lips left parted to say something more he was plainly uncertain of.

Bruce dropped to one knee in front of him, Dick’s hand discreetly slipping from the boy’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Damian,” Bruce said quietly, and Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I’m happy to be home, son. Get some rest, chum – please. We can talk in the morning.”

Damian watched him a moment longer, his blue eyes flitting this way and that across Bruce’s face. “Yes, Father,” he answered at last, posture relaxing. “I’m—it’s good to see you, as well,” and, swift as his reflexes would allow, Damian threw his arms round Bruce’s neck, squeezed and let go in what felt like only a second – far too fast for Bruce to properly react, at least – “Good-night,” before he’d sprinted past his siblings, heading for the stairs.

“Race!” Cassandra announced at once, and spun on her heel, running off.

“What—hey! That’s cheating!” Tim accused, following quickly in her wake.

Dick was grinning at their retreating forms, though, as Bruce got up. His eldest boy turned round to him, his smile somewhat diminished. Dick closed the gap between them without a word, to give Bruce a more proper hug, “He’ll be fine,” he said, as he pulled back. “Pissed to see you, probably,” he added with a rue smile and a shrug, glancing at the case. “But mostly fine.”

Bruce nodded in lieu of an answer, unconvinced that “thank you” was enough of a reply.

Dick seemed to know what he meant anyway, for he grinned, nodded back, and ran off after his siblings, “No fair, guys – you started without me!”

“Your uniform, Master Tim,” Alfred’s voice drifted from the top of the stairs as Bruce turned his back on the scene, turning once again to the case instead.

He stepped closer, somewhat cautious, not entirely certain how Jason in all his shifting, shaped glory would react to him – if he might be just the thing to snap his son from his uncomprehending state.

“Jason…?” Bruce whispered, when he was a mere pace away, but—

There was no reaction apart from the norm—

“Betrayed me. Betrayed me. Betrayed me.”

Sighing, forlorn, Bruce sunk to the cave floor, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees.

“Kiddo? Can you hear me…?”

“Never avenged me,” the shape seemed to hiss, and shift, and Bruce felt inexplicably as if it – as if Jason – had turned from the case to face him directly, even though there was no discernable face to his form that could prove it.

“Never-never-never,” his chant continued.

“I’ll just…sit here with you, then,” Bruce said quietly. “Until you feel better.”

“Betrayed me. Betrayed-betrayed-betrayed—

“You let the clown live!”

Bruce’s eyes droop for a moment, and he thinks, if fleetingly, that he might just rest them a little, at last. There’s no fear of falling asleep, at least – not with his second son’s continued chanting in his ears, in his head, echoing around his insides—

“Betrayed me. Betrayed me. Betrayed me.”

In fact, it’s because the chant stops unexpectedly, leaving the cave stunningly silent, that Bruce’s eyes snap open again at once, because—

What’s happened now?

Has he shifted into something else again—?

And—

Oh. Oh no.

He has.

Bruce blinks, as if to clear his vision, disbelief plain in his expression, and he’s not quick enough to hide it before his eyes meet Jason’s – back to their usual blue-green mix even as they no longer reflect all the usual angry hurt Bruce has come to associate with them. Because…Jason’s eyes have smoother contours, less angry lines, brows knit together in confusion instead of rage, and, freckles all over his nose and cheeks like he’d spent all day in the sun—

“What?” Jason asks, from where he lies on the cave floor curled into a ball, like he honestly doesn’t know, and his voice cracks a little like he hasn’t used it in forever, or, maybe, like he’s used it too much—

Bruce means to say something, but Jason’s the one blinking now, like he finally remembers, and he’s upright before Bruce can react, looking at his hands and the green gauntlets he wears, his expression—

Stunned. And…terrified.

“Jason—”

“No!” Jason snaps, jumping to his feet and tugging at his bright yellow cape all at the same time, “No, I’m not this anymore!” he’s frantic, and turning, and pulling at his gauntlets, and Bruce—

Has hardly been breathing, is half on his haunches and hesitating – does he grab the kid—the kid, what the hell?—by his shoulders and force him to calm down? Does he say something – what even?

For all that he looks thirteen, it’s still Jason – grown, once-dead, resurrected, vengeful Jason, and Bruce…Bruce has never known how to handle him.

“Jason,” Bruce tries again, cutting into the boy’s hissed curses at his irremovable gauntlets and boots, the swinging cape—

Jason finally looks at him again, face furious, throwing his cape aside as he swipes one hand defiantly through the air, “This isn’t me anymore!” he hisses, sounds more like himself even as his voice is the same half-forgotten echo Bruce sometimes hears in his dreams – when he dreams of all the mistakes he made and the things he regrets.

Jason scowls at Bruce just long enough for the older vigilante to gather his wits and remind himself he meant to say something placating, but then Jason has turned his head, looked away, and—

Bruce watches his son’s expression change, at first, anger and defiance back into the same shock and fear as when he saw he was Robin, and then—

The uniform he wears is tattered, and bloodied, frayed and burnt round the edges, his cape torn and half his mask missing – a twisted reflection of the suit in the case Jason’s staring at.

Jason’s gotten taller, his shoulders broader, in the almost-second it took Bruce to blink, and – there are already bruises blossoming beneath the tears in his uniform, blood trailing down his arms and legs, matted in his hair, and, his breathing has gone ragged, his knees weak—

“S’not’me,” he mumbles, wide-eyed, at the case, when he slumps to the ground and, Bruce has already moved to catch him—

—only, it’s not a fifteen year old, battered and bruised teenager he wraps his arms around, but his twenty-one year old son instead, the young man’s head lolling to the side, resting against Bruce’s shoulder as he mumbles one last time, “It’s not me…”

Bruce has his arm round Jason’s shoulders, his other hand on his son’s arm, gripping tight, “Jason?”

But Jason’s eyes have fallen shut, and the slow, rhythmic up-and-down of his chest suggest he’s fallen right asleep – likely a result of all the magic he’s been exposed to and all the shifting he’s done, not to mention how long he’d been in one incomprehensible form, muttering non-stop.

Bruce puts two fingers to his pulse anyway.

There are tears blurring the edges of his vision and Bruce can still feel his heart hammering in his ribcage, the image of his beaten, broken son, the corpse he’d found in a warehouse, burned into his mind’s eye anew.

Bruce lets out a shaky breath, shoulder’s slumping and his grip on Jason tightening.

“You’re right, chum…” he whispers. “You’re not…” he looks up, barely moving his head, to catch sight of the case and Jason’s old suit, “That anymore…you’re…someone else entirely, and I…” he trails off, uncertain. When he speaks again a moment later, it’s to address the butler he’s well aware of, in as composed a manner as on any other day, “Make up a room for him, Alfred. We should keep an eye on him, in case this…happens again.”

“Indeed, sir,” Alfred replies, as expected, but Bruce isn’t unaware of all the things Alfred doesn’t say.