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abruisedmuse · 4 years

Note

19 for the prompts :)

A treat this time

Prompt: 19 “You want to go trick or treating?” "Seriously?”

Pairing: Nessian

a/n: Sorry it took a while! my writer’s block has been really bad lately. Enjoy!

Today was Halloween. Her favorite holiday. Not only for the fact she loved the costumes, dressing up, the weather and films, but because it was the night she had met Cassian. If it wasn't for a party six years ago she might not have met him.

However, this year, Nesta Bellator nee Archeron found she wasn't particularly in the spirit of spooky. Not when she looked like an overgrown pumpkin, with her bump jutting out of the shirt. From Braxton-hicks, aches in her lower back, not to mention the swelling in her feet, she was over this pregnancy. At this stage, Nesta's fairly certain her feet were to be permanently stuck that way.

This time around she and her husband of almost three years decided to stay in. Opting for appropriately themed films and eating take-out from her favorite Italian restaurant. The one that made the breadsticks so perfect, the bread seemed to melt in your mouth. A mere thought of them made her mouth dry. She would savor every bite while Cassian rubbed her pudgy toes. Tell her she's beautiful, though in this state, she felt far from it. Half of her clothes didn't fit. Even her maternity clothing seemed to be a struggle. Hell, everything was nowadays. Being ten long days past your due date would do the trick.

Nesta heard the sound of jostling keys in the door. Prompting her to slide the bowl of half-eaten candy under the Cherrywood coffee table. Candy that was supposed to be for the neighborhood kids. She should feel guilty for eating most of it. In her state, Nesta found she could care less. They weren't miserable and exhausted beyond measure like her. Besides, the kids in their neighborhood didn't need all the sugar. Not like she did.

Hearing the creak from the front door and the click as it shut. A faint sound of heavy footfall from her husband's boots echoed from the hall. The sound becoming louder with each step inching towards her. Nesta stood with a groan from the grey sofa. Settling a hand on the swell of her back. Walking, no waddling, like a godsdamned penguin to greet her husband and the food she was dying to devour. Tonight her pain seemed to worsen.

Most likely from lazily hanging on the couch most of the day. She moved as quickly as her nesting body would carry her to the dining table. The square mahogany table adorned with orange, red, and brown on the runner, matching the leaves littering their yard outside. Nesta winced as she smiled at her hero, walking towards her. With bags of food from Nuala and Cerridwen's restaurant, La Bellezza di Cibo. He dropped the bags and rushed to her side. Nesta hitched a breath as the bags hit the floor with a thud. If her food were a mess, he'd deal with her, her... Nesta clutched the back of a ebony chair.

"Nes?" he questioned with worry displayed on his ruggedly handsome features, a hand placed gingerly over her shoulder before resting on the swell of her belly, "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Her knuckles bloomed white from her tightened grip on the rounded back of a dining chair, "fine." Nesta gritted out, glancing between concerned hazel eyes and her food abandoned on the floor.

Once the tremor subsided, Nesta stood upright. Hands resting over Cassian's warm ones, "Fine," she replied again. Feeling the light kicks and punches from within. By the awe touched grin on her husband's lips, he felt it too, "Just Braxton hicks. As you can tell, he's content in there.

"Nes…" Cassian's thumbs rubbed along her belly, "I think you should call the doctor."

"I think," she huffed out, " you should pick up the food, feed your hungry, very pregnant wife, and rub her grapefruit-sized feet." Nesta realized a moment too late that the words were coming out harsher than intended.

By the way his posture tightened, and his jaw clenched, she knew he was fighting against what he truly wanted to say. That she wasn't in this alone, he should have a say too, and if he's concerned to humor him and call the damned doctor. They had called a few times, and tonight she wasn't doing it. She wasn't going into the hospital yet again only to hear they are Braxton-hicks and have those nurses look at her with slight annoyance—the kind she gave her customers daily. Cassian offered a tight smile, kissing her brow in a silent expression of okay.

She watched his shoulders slump as he picked up the bags walking to the sofa. Her heart constricted as her gaze continued to follow him setting up dinner on the coffee table. He was trying in the only way he could.

Cassian didn't know the inside of her body as she did. His only tells of possible labor were her movements and time. He sighed, pulling out her favorite drink, iced green tea, no sugar. Silently she moved towards the couch. Her husband now putting on Practical Magic, one of her favorites. He preferred the gory films. lately Nesta couldn't stomach watching those.

If she weren't pregnant and past due, Cassian being upset for a few minutes would be nothing. Nesta would have rolled her wines and left him be for thirty minutes, an hour, sometimes all night before talking. Now, she couldn't stand it. Bracing herself on the back of the charcoal sofa, Nesta shook away the dull pain in her spine.

"Hang on," Cassian grabbed the couch pillows settling them against the back of her seat, "okay, now sit."

She did leaning into the pillows as best as she could. Laying a hand on her belly, the other on his thigh. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm just.. I'm so tired all the time, I'm gigantic and in pain. Calling the doctor and going to the hospital just to be turned away, I can't do it. It's annoying and disheartening. If one of those nurses look at me like that again I will stab them in the eye with a syringe." Those last words she promised as a threat. A sigh escaped Nesta, laying her head against his shoulder, "and I just want to meet him."

Cassian squeezed her hand, reaching for a breadstick with the opposite. Nesta took it, biting into the bread, still soft and warm. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes while she chewed. Cauldron this gods damned pregnancy has ruined her non-crying streak a hundred times over.

"I know. Trust me; I'm ready too. It seems like he has both of our stubbornness," he took her in his arms, running fingers through her hair. Nesta wiped her tears with the back of a hand, "You don't have to apologize, Nes. Yeah, I got annoyed for a minute. I don't know what's happening. I walked in, and you're bent over in pain. I had no idea if this had been going on all day or not. He pulled away, taking her feet in his lap. Gingerly rubbing the expanse from toes to ankles with the hardened padding of his thumbs. Nesta hummed her approval.

"I know."

"And you're not gigantic. I mean you-"

"Don't finish that sentence!" she snapped, cutting him a dry look.

He laughed, grinning like an idiot in the way it made her heart flutter, "You're carrying our child, and you look gorgeous doing it. Better?"

"Yes. But you're at morning foot rubs now and speaking of mornings. Tomorrow you're making me crepes."

"deal."

They fell into a blissful rhythm of silence watching the movie. At some point, Cassian handed her the tea. She didn't eat the chicken parm or touch the Tiramisu Nesta claimed to have been craving for weeks. However, he wasn't sure about that. Cassian, the dutiful husband he is, knew every craving and memorized everything she wants and needs. Learning the lesson from Rhys, who was kicked out for a night for getting the wrong the sauce. Feyre's wrath was nothing compared to Nesta's. Paying careful attention to all her tells he knew she's hurting tonight more than usual, which gave him an idea. It was stupid he knew, but if it worked...

"Nes, wanna go trick or treating?"

Turning, she looked at him incredulously. He chuckled at her mouth fully agape, a bit of breadstick tumbling down her black shirt.

"Cassian, you're thirty-one years old, and you want to go trick or treating?" a nod, "seriously?" a second nod, Nesta sat a little straighter, "Let me get this straight, you want to take your nine and then some months pregnant wife trick or treating?"

"Yes, sweetheart. That's exactly what I'm suggesting. We can paint your stomach like a pumpkin with body paint. The doctor said walking helps a chance of labor, free candy, and I'll throw in a rub as soon we get back. I'll even hold your breadsticks and tea."

Before she had a chance to consider, Nesta felt a rush of liquid flow from her. Like someone, some little one popped a balloon filled with water. Nesta stilled for a moment. Time slowed as her stormy grey eyes moved down to her belly. She could feel her cotton leggings thoroughly soaked. Her jaw fell, and her heart pounded loudly. To the point that Nesta knew Cassian was speaking, yet couldn't hear his words. There were only dull noises and a wet feeling underneath her. This was happening. There was no trickery tonight—no falsified contractions.

Cassian knelt in front of her. Face twisted in worry, he quickly transferred to a half-smile, realizing Nesta was smiling from ear to ear.

"Sweetheart?"

Meeting his gaze of amber and green flecked eyes, Nesta finally broke, "We can't trick or treat. Cassian, my water broke."

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#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acoma #acowar #acofas #acosf #sjm fandom #prompt #prompt ask #answered prompt #the end is nigh #usernite #sv fics #is my writers block over?#I hope so!

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dragon Dancer IV: Christmas Eve

I rocked back and forth in a glider chair, eyes scanning the wall murals around me. Cute images of foxes, owls and deer peeked behind tree trunks and bushes. Little raccoons hung out in the branches. A bear reached for a hive of bees for the small bead of honey dripping out the bottom. Each image was painted in loving detail and in good humor.

I shifted my vision to the corner of the room where a small artificial tree twinkled with simple white lights. Gifts were piled under it, mostly for the baby. Each toy had marked on it a name and a brief description.

“Ru’yi’s duckling.”

“Ru’yi’s bear”

“Ru’yi’s Hello Kitty”

On the door hung a simple plaque.

“Ru’yi’s room.”

I checked my phone. It was getting close to midnight Oslo time. My eyes shifted to the table next to the rocking chair. A white unopened envelope from Comemnus Corp lay waiting. I turned it over face down, next to a box of tissues.

I didn’t want to open that envelope alone.

My phone buzzed. I exclaimed with delighted surprise. It was Johann and he wanted to video chat!

I immediately accepted and his face filled my phone screen. I grinned. “Heeeey!” My smile faded when I noticed the dark rings around his golden eyes and his pale complexion. “Wow you look sleepy...”

“Jet lag..." He shook his head. “The mission itself was simple. No problems.”

His expression softened, looking into my eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, it’s definitely getting harder.” I rested my hand on my round, distended belly. “She’s sitting really low on me right now so I waddle like a fat penguin...” I rolled my eyes. “...and yeah going to the bathroom every half hour is no fun at all.”

“That’s disturbing your sleep.” He observed.

“Yes, but I sleep a lot during the day. I’m trying to get as much as I can, while I can get it. At least, I can breathe now that her head isn’t under my chest.”

“Any contractions?”

I shook my head.

“Bleeding? Pain?”

“I’m fine. I promise.” I raised my arms, flexing the muscles I’d managed to cultivate over a year of training. “We made sure I’d be strong for this. Remember?”

He nodded. “I remember.”

“So... I have a bit of a surprise.” I reached over to the envelope. “I got this last week but... I haven’t opened it yet.” I held it to the phone camera.

“Is that the prenatal dragon blood purity assessment?”

“Yep. It’s either good news or bad news...” I turned it over in my hands. “I didn’t want to open it without you here... just in case... you know.” My eyes shifted downward, voice trailing off.

“No matter what the news, I know we’ll be able to handle it. Go ahead and open it.”

“Okay... drumroll please?”

Johann obliged, lightly drumming his fingers on the desk. My words were light hearted, but I bit my lip as I tore open the envelope.

I unfolded the letter. “Thank you for choosing Comemnus for your genetic testing needs... we take pride in the accuracy of the results...blah blah...” My eyes scanned down the page. “...keep in mind that prenatal checks are just a marker to establish a history and not entirely predictive of the future...” I took a breath. “It’s recommended to do continual testing to monitor fluctuations.”

“We regret to inform you that Ru’yi’s dragon blood purity is 48.5%... putting her at... high risk...”

I set the letter in my lap. Disappointment welled up in my eyes. Warm tears slipped down my face. “I knew it... I knew it... I knew this was going to happen...”

“Meixiu.” Johann’s voice was gentle. “You know you have a stabilizing effect...”

“Yes but after she’s born? When she’s separate from my blood?” I reached over to the tissues and wiped my face. “If she tests over 50 percent they’re going to take her.”

“No one’s going to take her. At most they’ll have to monitor her for a while.” He reached out to his screen. “No one’s going to take her. I won’t let them.”

I wished he could reach through the screen. I rested against the back of the rocking chair, willing the tears to stop.

He brought the camera a bit closer. “She’ll be fine. Your Soul Skill can help her. She’s not going to end up constantly dying like Erii. And even if that were the case, you’re in a unique position to help her live out a long healthy life. But I don’t think she’ll be like Erii.”

I put the letter back on the night stand. “What do you think is going to happen?”

A small smile played on his lips. “I think she’ll be born beautiful... and very strong. We’ll have to train her early and often. We’ll have to protect her and watch her very closely. Our lives won’t be our own for quite some time. But... that’s alright.”

“Will we be shipped to the quarantine island...?” I asked him.

“She’s a baby, she’s not that dangerous. Meixiu, relax. Take a deep breath. Please.”

I took a deep breath, held it, and let it out.

Johann’s eyes didn’t shift away from me. He breathed with me, helping me calm down. He stared, intent and serious, holding my gaze like an anchor. “Don’t let this stress you out, not in these final days. Make sure you’re getting enough rest. If you feel your mind racing, just remember it’s going to be fine. Alright?”

“Okay...” Relief flooded me.

“Everything else is okay with her, right?” He asked, his soft voice guiding me through my panic.

“Yeah. She’s otherwise normal.”

“Good. Meixiu... Now... there’s something else.” He hesitated.

I detected a shift in mood from the way his brow creased when he glanced away. “I finished the mission a bit early. I should have called you earlier, but I was thinking about a lot of things... and I couldn’t sleep.”

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “I met someone who... was doing all this work for a woman who was stuck in a coma in a hospital. And I thought... he should be by her side. And it hit me... that I was not at your side.”

I hurried to reassure him. “I said it was alright...”

He held up a hand. “Please... hear me out.”

I bit my lip. “Okay.”

He sat for a bit, eyes distant. “To be honest... I forgot it was Christmas until I saw the decorations here. I’ve been that busy. Right now in Norway the sun doesn’t come up. It just flashes below the horizon. People have to work for their bodies to function normally. They spend a lot of time together to pass the time. I... I was alone.”

“A year ago. I would have been fine with nothing but my sword and a suitcase. But now... I’m not so sure.”

“The whole reason I joined Cassell was out of my own desire for revenge over something that happened to me when I was younger. I obsessed about it every day. I didn’t care what I did, so long as it kept me getting closer to my ultimate goal.”

“But I have gotten no closer.” He rested his forehead against his hand. “And I’ve left you alone. I’m sorry, Meixiu.”

He looked at me again. “I’ve been getting offers for where I will be stationed as official commissioner with the Executive Department. I haven’t answered any of them.”

“I’d just keep doing what I’m doing now, rising through the ranks of commissioner, to special commissioner, to senior... until I’m given a desk job when I’m too old or injured to take on missions any more.”

“I might never find what I’m looking for. And what’s more... I... I’m not sure if I want it as bad as I used to. When I fall asleep all I do is miss you.” He looked away suddenly.

Did he not mean to say that? I wondered. Was he ashamed? I tilted my head in confusion. This way of thinking was nothing like the man I knew. I held my breath, following his line of reasoning. I had kept my silence before such an unusually long speech, stunned at what I was hearing. Was he thinking of ending his dragonslaying career?

“You want to quit?” I asked quietly, gently.

“I’m not sure... this is the first time I’ve felt like this. I don’t know how to tell Schneider.”

“You’re tired...”

“Yes...”

“Come home... get some sleep. Give it some time.”

He looked at me through the camera. The desperate, frustrated look to his eyes began to fade. “I just know that so long as that...” His jaw clenched. “... thing is out there, there’s a risk it might come after you.”

We sat silently a few seconds. “I’m strong, Johann.”

He shook his head.

“Then why don’t you tell me what we’re dealing with?” I asked. “You’ve been hiding this from me for years!”

I watched as the thoughts ran across his expression, his eyes shifting, weighing the pros and cons. His breath became shallower, his lips pressed together. Was what happened to his father really that hard for him to talk about?

“Please...” I said.

His voice was halting and soft. “I was... in the car with my father. It was raining so hard, we could hardly see the road...” He suddenly stopped.

I leaned forward. “Yes... and?”

He didn’t move or speak. A notification popped up. “Connection Lost.”

I sighed. “Are you kidding me!” I checked my wireless signal. “Johann? Are you there? Can you hear me?”

The screen went black. I clucked my tongue. I sat waiting and waiting for the connection to re-establish, trying again and again to call him.

“Unable to Connect with Chu Zihang.”

I sighed loudly and growled to myself. It was so rare for him to open up like this. Maybe he’ll get back online. I propped the phone up on the table and watched for his call, rocking back and forth. In an attempt to keep myself awake, I sang to myself. Johann’s song, a very familiar tune.

The trees, they grow high, and the leaves, they do grow green Many is the time my true love I've seen Many an hour I watched him all alone He's young but he's daily growing...

I patted my stomach as I sang. I got to the end of the song, but there was no sign of him.

I got up to go to the bathroom. I turned out the lights to the rest of the house, showered and changed into my night robe, checking back after each activity for a return call. Thirty more minutes had passed but there was none. The connection was truly out.

“Come on... Johann...” I whispered, sitting back down in the rocking chair.

I picked up the phone to dial again.

“Relax Meixiu... what time is it?” I checked phone time. I hadn’t heard back for nearly an hour. I continued to rock myself and wait. I told myself to give him a few more minutes. He was clever. He was working on it.

My eyes suddenly grew heavy but I forced them open. I had to stay awake in case he called.

The lights in the apartment flickered. My vision blurred and my eyes shut. I tried to force myself to open them. Twisted images swirled behind my eyelids for a moment before they opened again.

I hadn’t moved from the room, but it wasn’t the room I’d just been in. The walls were different. They were just plain pink. The paintings were gone. The toys were different toys. The tree lights were multicolored!

Confused and frightened, I reached for my phone. I looked at it but it wasn’t the same color or the same model as I’d just been using! I dropped it.

“Johann!”

A cold chill ran through me from top to bottom, followed by a profound numbness. There was no response from Johann through my soulbond any more. His presence in my mind and heart had been as large as a mountain. Now it as snatched away, leaving an agonizing vacuum. In desperation, I reached out to him again and again. “Johann! Johann!”

I grabbed the unfamiliar phone and flipped through my recent contacts. I couldn’t find his name. I threw it across the room.

“Where is my phone?! Where’s my phone?!” My words blended together until I was just screaming, crawling on the floor, knocking things over trying to find it.

My howling was like a wounded beast and a crying baby blended together. The unearthly wailing and crashing furniture carried through the walls, the ceiling, the floor and window.

I lay my back against the wall, one arm over my eyes. My sorrowful pleas squeezed my lungs until my voice thinned to silence. Only for them to billow open again for me to cry out. “My love! Oh, my love! My love! My love!”

My love was gone.

Johann, my beautiful Johann, was gone.

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing #Johann Chu

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imcynfinite · 5 years

Text

the bubble.

I wanted to see her.

I told myself I’d quit being the initiator when it came to dating, because I was learning to be patient with other people’s approach towards me. Sometimes, I needed validation in knowing someone was interested, but didn’t leave room for them to show it. So I took a personal vow; set a boundary. But there was something about her that felt real good and genuine, and it was a beautiful Monday that felt full of promise if I let it. I thought I’d break my boundary for her; I knew what I wanted, and I didn’t feel like playing a game. I just wanted to see her. There’s a movie I’ve been dying to see playing at a theater I love in the Lower East Side. It could make for a really fun date, so in the middle of our already flowing conversation, I shoot her a text: “Would you like to go to a movie with me tonight?” She’s at work, so I don’t anticipate a quick respon–– “Yes. Yes, I’d love to.” ...well, then. I give her details about the movie, and she agrees again, and we talk a little more... an hour later, she sends another text: “I’m really happy you asked me out. I can be a normal human today. And I get to make you laugh.” I smiled at the thought of her enjoying the smile she regularly puts on my face. And I carry that feeling with me as I go about my day in preparation for the night I’m about to have. ––––– I’m sitting in the theater’s cafe. Open concept with big windows illuminating the room, which is littered with people here and there, waiting for their movie to start. I check my scent to make sure I still smell of vanilla and pull out my phone to ensure my make-up isn’t caked and my headwrap is aligned. I look fantastic. Everything’s fine... but it isn’t. Because my nerves are getting the best of me. Every time the theater doors open, I’m expecting it to be her. My heart races until I see it’s someone else, and then the process of talking myself down starts and lasts for two minutes... until the doors open again. But when she finally walks in, I take in a deep breath. Her head moves from left to right, searching for me, and I’m right there. Suddenly, I’m not so nervous. I’m excited. I didn’t know how happy I’d be to see her, but her energy's so bright, I couldn’t help but brighten myself. She smiles when she sees me. I rise from my seat and we embrace a friendly one. We make small talk as we head to the snack counter and grab something, and the whole time, I’m giddy that the date has started. The giddiness tries to consume me, but somehow, I do a great job at letting it simmer as we make our way to the movie.

We find our seats and chat as we wait for the lights to dim. A kind chat, asking about each other’s day, talking about what we’re about to see, and everything else in between our curiosities allowed. An Asian film that’s been sweeping the critics’ eyes, she had no idea what she was in for. And, in some ways, neither did I. Suddenly, the lights begin to give way. And somehow, in a room full of people, our bubble developed. The movie begins and I’m in it. I’m concentrated, paying it close attention. Beautiful, airy cinematography and pace as we watch the protagonist, a writer who can’t catch a break as she navigates a lonely world of independence, being thrusted into a world left behind to revisit her family and herself in China. But as we’re twenty minutes in, I feel her shift next to me and our shoulders get closer. Suddenly, my attention is divided. There was something really sweet here, the silence we harbored but the energy we shared. I can’t put a finger on what I was feeling, but I’d sit there wondering if she felt it, too. If it distracted her like it was distracting me. There were moments where I had to cross my legs because the energy made me throb a little. Just the closeness was doing something to me. I swear to God, I watched the movie. It was a soft film that gave us humor and heart I didn’t expect, and I was present for a lot of it. But at some moments, I’d take a peek at the way she sits, like a person who takes up space: legs apart with great posture and her arms crossed over her chest. I’d be so turned on by it. Her masculinity, in energy and embodiment, was really attractive. Throughout the film, there are moments where she laughs, and it’s an endearing one. Almost childlike. A little loud and free. If you see her, you don’t automatically expect such a cuteness to come from her. Her presence is a gentle strength. She doesn’t try, it just is. But when you see her smile? You get it. You see it. I’d catch that smile when I’m surprised by the laugh, and turn to see the light from the screen illuminating her teeth as she grins. It warms me. I’m noticing she’s precious. Finally, the movie ends, and we sit in the dark for a moment. Through the bits of light coming from the credits now scrolling on screen, we turn to each other. A shared, “Time to go?” “Yeah, let’s do it,” conversation. We rise and leave, waddling like penguins through the crowd. As we walk out, we talk about what we saw. What we liked. What didn’t work. Questions we had. We march out of the double doors and into the heat of the night, and that first brush of humid breeze flirts with me. Already, I feel loose. The night feels like it’s just starting, and I don’t want it to end. She leads me towards the direction of her car, and I’m tempted to ask if we could just...walk. Because I just want to keep sharing this time with her. And as if she wanted what I did all on her own merit, we somehow agree without saying so, that we will continue the night. There’s a linger in the space between us as we walk. My arms to my sides, bumping against my hips, and her hands lazily tucked into her pockets, like a gentleman. We talk about where we’d move to in the city if we had all the money in the world with the privilege of the choice. Our bubble is sweet. Flirtatious. Calm, but it can be felt. So much so that I can feel it rush from my toes to my fingertips. We get to her car and there’s a weight. A question. One of us wants to say something. Neither of us wants the night to end. Suddenly she asks, “Are you hungry?” and I say, “Yes.” She opens the car door for me, and I hop in, grinning inside. As soon as she climbs into her car and closes the door, the silence that shuts out the outside world is beautiful. I’m sitting beside her, feeling glad for the confined space. I feel safe next to her as she tells me she’s taking me to a Venezuelan spot in Williamsburg I’m gonna love. She pulls out of her parking space and we drive through the Lower East Side of Manhattan, talking a fun, light conversation with giggles and a game of questions. My passenger’s seat is reclined a tiny bit, so I’m sprawled across it, arms behind my head, comfortable. I’d... also be a liar if I pretended I hadn’t known my bra that night held my girls up beautifully, and if she peered at me, she’d get an amazing view. Because, I knew. And as we drove across the Brooklyn Bridge and I brought attention to the beauty of the water and skyscrapers outside, I caught her peering. And it made me feel good. ...I like the way she looks at me. I catch her sometimes, and try not to imagine it. I try not to imagine all of this. At times, I think I’m the only one feeling the sweetness in the tension. That maybe, I’m romanticizing our moments together, but I don’t know... ––––– We make it to the restaurant, sit across from each other in this dim, red lighting, order our drinks, and continue talking. I’m a lightweight who ordered a strong margarita, so a few sips in, I’m tipsy and fluid. I start talking, about what, I don’t remember. But, as I speak, she leans in and stares at my lips, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I pretend I don’t notice, but the pit of my stomach dances because even when she looks into my eyes, she finds her way back to my mouth. I’d stop speaking and she’ll take a moment to pick her eyes up and respond. And when she responds, she has an answer. She was listening. But she doesn’t hide the fact that she likes where the words are coming from. The food comes and it looks amazing. This hot dog jam packed with toppings I’d never find on the streets of New York City. Textures of all times, tastes of all levels consume me when I take a my first bite, tastebuds going apeshit. Maybe it’s because the drink was hitting hard, but it was a literal orgasm in my mouth. I moan with happiness, almost tearing up at how good that bite, and every bite after that, was. Behind her food, she’s amused, grinning as she tells me I may be borderline drunk, and she’s right. My eyes are low and I’m smiling a lot more. She cracks jokes and my giggles are stronger. My body’s hot, so I shift and move in my seat. I stare at her with intention as she speaks and as our conversations get deeper. And she watches all of me, sometimes smirking at my freeness the drink provided. Her eyes are just... on me, the whole time, and I’m turned on. From the company, from the food, from the drink, from the beauty I know I’m expelling, from the handsomeness she’s throwing back, and from this sensual ass bubble that keeps filling with our energy. Time passes, and we look up from our bubble to see we’re the last ones there. A worker is mopping the floor and the bartender is cleaning the bar by the time we decide it’s time to go. She gets up to pay and use the bathroom, and as she stands and walks away, I do my best not to stare too hard. But she has a body, man. This... strong body that, just by the way she moves in it, shows a woman who has had numerous life experiences to get to this point of self comfort. To move without inhibitions in her skin. She is gentle and sturdy. Broad shoulders, a smooth chest, slight curves at her hips, thick thighs through her jeans... I loved watching her. And maybe it was because I was so tipsy that the thought of wrapping my arms around those shoulders filled my head. Wanting to kiss her lips. Lips plump and circular. Pink and tempting. But no matter what I want to do, I don’t. Not yet. We walk out, and do that slow walk again. The night’s coming to a close. She has work early in the morning, and I have to catch my train. We walk, side by side, swept into innocent conversation. There’s a temptation we don’t all the way act on. We flirt and we laugh and we marvel at each other’s presence secretly, but what we COULD do? Kiss and touch and taste? We don’t. Not yet. We’re two people eager to get to know each other. And how easy it can be getting lost in the physical of it all, when the test of patience in how well you build your intimacy through energy, vulnerability, closeness, and conversation is right there. I’ve never done this with intent before. Dating it still such a foreign concept for me. It’s a challenge, because I know I want her. And I know she wants me, too. But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love this. Not rushing to touch, or taste. It makes the moment she tapped my thigh during the movie sweet. Or the time she gave me her button up shirt to shield my hair and face when it rained hard on us at the pier during our prior date, endearing. Or just sitting next to her in her car, feeling her energy, that much sexier. I like moving at this pace. We give ourselves room to learn each other before moving to something more revealing. It’s a ladder we’re climbing. We part ways with a hug. Not like the friendly one when we greeted each other. This one was warm. Sensual. Soft and even sexy. That’ll do for now. But when I get home, she texts me how much fun she had. How pretty I am. How she loves talking to me. My heart races because I share all of those same feelings. I’m swept away by how much fun I had and how good it felt to want someone, and to know they wanted you, too. I notice, though, that she’s shy with her words in person. I can tell. And that’s okay with me. She’ll say what she feels whenever she needs to. We’re still so new to each other, this being our third date, and there are levels to this. I’m learning to appreciate the levels. Because I know a time is coming where she feels completely comfortable enough to say what she’s thinking to my face. “And maybe,” I think to myself as I get into bed, a smile planted so wide as I recall my night. “...when we finally kiss, it’ll be her chance to speak every thought on her mind. And I want to hear everything.”

#short stories

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drawingsanddrabbles · 7 years

Text

Joke’s On You

chapter three: Hit List

betaed by @ilovebeingintroverted

links

After Tim had gone shopping for the tools he was missing he saddled up his pants and jacket. Tim then made a list of Gothamites he was going to look up.

1. Catwoman

2. The Penguin

3. Commissioner Gordon

4. Vicki Vale

5. Harley Quinn

These people were intimately connected to Gotham, if he wanted to know anything about what had happened in the last five years since he died they would know. Tim paused as he read the list over. His pencil hovered over paper, itching to write out a name. Tim couldn’t help himself. He had to check in on him.

6. Alfred Pennyworth

Next he dressed in his new uniform. He stared at the domino mask (his only impulse buy) before stuffing it in one of his numerous pockets. Then he placed the mask over his head. He took one last look in the mirror, recognizing his new look. The Red Hood. Tim ripped his latest list out of the notebook and stuffed it into his jacket. Then he glanced at his watch. Nine fifty two PM. Time to go.

When he ran across Gotham he felt wind whip around his uniform. He couldn’t feel it through his rather overgrown hair because of the mask, he missed that. He took out a grappling hook when he got to the end of the part of town he was in and shot it out, it wound around a piece of iron holding up a gargoyle and Tim swung. For the first time in years he swung. God, he had missed that. He landed on the gargoyle and unhooked his grapple before firing it again and then swinging once more. It was almost as good as flying.

When he finally crossed downtown he went straight to the first name on his list. Selina Kyle’s.

Selina Kyle smiled as she pet her black cat. The cat purred and rubbed its head against Selina’s leather glove. Selina used one of her claws to scratch under the cat’s chin. Tim slipped open her window and she jumped backwards, claws out.

“I’m not here to hurt you Selina, I just want to talk.” Tim said as he slipped out of the night air and into her apartment.

“How do you know my name?” Selina’s cat hissed at Tim. Tim glared at it and it licked a paw, deciding that it had said its piece and now wished to ignore him.

“I know your address; why wouldn’t I know your name?”

“How do you know my address, then?”

Tim sighed. “Look, Selina that’s not really importan-“ Selina pounced, and Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. Tim blocked Selina’s punch and grabbed her wrist. He slammed her front into the closest wall and sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you Selina.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem that way to me.” It was the grim smile that slithered onto Selina’s lips that made Tim release her.

“Ew, Selina. Just… ew.”

Selina frowned. “Do I know you?”

Tim barked a laugh. “Well, my voice has changed a little.” Tim slipped the hood off his face. “Recognize me now?”

“No.”

Tim sighed. He didn’t want to have to do this but… Tim stuffed a hand in his pocket and Selina flexed her claws. “Just getting a clue…” Tim told her, but Selina didn’t relax. Tim slipped on the domino mask and grinned. “Remember me now?”

“No… Robin-? But you’re not Rob—you’re…” Tim watched as Selina’s brain figured out what was happening. She laughed. “I can’t believe you’re alive. Batman is going to kill you. You know he went ballistic when you died. Bad day for him. Bad day for all of us.”

“I know. Selina, I need you to help me. Tell me about the new Robin.”

“What about him?”

“Is he… is he good?”

“He’s… different. Playful. Not like you or your older brother. How is ‘Wing by the way?”

“Still too young for you.”

Selina grinned. “Your father figure’s more my type. But the new one he’s raw, he smells like the street. Not high class like you two. He has the accent too. But he’s good.”

“Street?” Tim frowned.

“Yeah.” She must have sensed his confusion because she asked, “are you okay there, ex-Robin?”

“Yeah. Fine. Look, Selina I should go-“

“Does Batman know?”

“What?”

“Batman. Does he know you’re alive?” Selina asked. She removed her mask and began removing her gloves. She was showing Tim that she was letting her guard down. Trying to get him to lower his.

Tim crossed his arms. “No. And you won’t tell him.”

“Why not?” Selina asked, fingers running down her cat’s back.

“He won’t believe you.” Tim came up with.

Selina smiled before kissing the black feline’s head. “That is true. But tell me, if you aren’t going to tell him you’re alive then what are you going to do?”

Tim didn’t respond. Selina walked into her kitchen to get something. “You know,” she called from the room, “I’ve been thinking of getting myself a little protégé.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “And you’re offering me the job?”

Selina walked back in and cracked open a bottle of water. “Well I don’t see why not. You already have training, I could get you all dolled up in leather, with long diamond tipped claws… A mini-whip. Or maybe you’d like another weapon.” Selina took a sip of the water. She licked her lips. “A staff might look good on you…”

“I’m not a petty thief, Selina.”

“Nothing ‘petty’ about it.” Selina took another swig. “Imagine the reveal! You and Batsy on a rooftop, and a batarang slices your mask and goggles off. His eyes widen as he recognizes you and you say something clever before jumping off the edge and into an endless crowd. When he rushes to the border he can’t find you.”

“You have weird fantasies.”

Selina snapped her fingers. “They could call you Catlad!”

“That’s even worse than Robin.”

“Speaking of which, what’s your new moniker? Unless, of course, you’re going to go by your real name.”

“Nice try, Selina, but why would I tell you that?”

“We’re villains, kid. We share. That’s how the Gotham underworld works, we share, we network.”

Network, huh? “I’m not a villain.”

“Really?” Selina snorted. “Sorry, with the whole faking-your-death thing and the getting-recon-on-the-local-heroes thing, I figured you had switched sides.”

Switched sides. “Does killing the Joker count as switching sides?”

Selina frowned. “What are you talking about, Kid?”

“Never mind.” Tim walked to the window. “See you around Selina.”

“See you around… Not-Robin?”

“Just call me Red Hood.”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Says Catwoman.”

“Touché, Hood.”

Tim slipped out onto the fire escape. “The offer still stands, kitten.” Selina called out to him.

“Somehow, I think I’ll manage as Red Hood. Thanks again Selina.” And just like that he was gone. Selina shook her head, Batman taught him well.

The Iceberg Lounge was completely overdone in Tim’s mind. Tim thumbed through an accounts book at Oswald Cobblepot’s desk. The Penguin’s office went with the theme of the club, behind doors the color of ice a lavish black chair sat at an ice colored desk. A TV was hung across from the desk, the only thing on the walls. Tim put his feet on the desk and put down the accounts book, there was nothing interesting in it. No one who he could use. Tim began opening drawers and searched through them for a remote.

The click of a gun was what made Tim look up. “What are you doing in my chair?” Cobblepot asked.

“Looking for the remote.” Tim responded. “Do you have Netflix?”

“I would advise you to stand up very slowly with your hands in the air. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for information. I bet you are too. Want to know how I got in here?” Tim asked with a smirk. The Penguin narrowed his eyes. “You have really bad firewalls, and really lazy guards. I took them both out easily. I told you, now you tell me: who runs Gotham? Who has been in the big leagues for the past five years?”

The Penguin frowned slightly. He lowered his gun. “Smart.” Tim complimented.

“Get out of my chair.” Oswald snapped.

“Tell me what I want to know.”

“Get out of my chair.” Tim stood and Oswald waddled over to the desk. “No one.”

“What?”

“I said no one. No one has been ruling Gotham, not recently.”

“That’s a lie. Someone’s always ruling Gotham City.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Red Hood. Spread the word. Now, tell me the truth.”

Oswald snorted and sat in his chair. “The Red Hood is already taken, try Dead Hood. Because that’s what you’ll be if you try to work your way into the big leagues, kid.”

“I know Red Hood is already taken. I’m being ironic.”

Oswald frowned. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. You’re good. In fact, if this is an audition-“

“It isn’t.”

“-I’ll hire you. But you aren’t ready.”

“Humor me.”

“I, of course, handle finances for my clients. Catwoman is Gotham’s resident crook, Poison Ivy the resident eco-terrorist, Scarecrow scares people to death, and the Joker… well you know the Joker if you’re taking his name. But for drugs and weapons, Gotham goes to the Black Mask.”

“Thank you.” Tim turned to the ice doors to leave. He then sighed. “Oswald, please put down the gun. Shooting a man in the back is a little rude.”

Tim watched Oswald’s reflection in the ice doors and the Penguin put down the gun. “You sound like the Bat.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

As Tim walked out the doors, winding through the glacier themed halls of the Lounge, he took out his list in his pocket and a pen. He added a name to the paper.

7. Black Mask

He struck off The Penguin’s name and he folded the paper back up, stuffing it into one of his pockets. He glanced at his watch: eleven ten. He wondered if the Commish was still up.

As it turned out, he wasn’t. Tim sat on Commissioner Gordon’s fire escape staring at him in what was probably a stalker-ish way. The Commissioner lay on his bed, alone. His wife had died recently, if Tim remembered correctly. He looked so stressed, even in sleep. He had deep lines on his face and his body seemed tensed; a hand clenched around the corner of the pillow next to his head. Tim felt bad for the man, head of Gotham’s police department yet nothing ever changed crime-wise here. And he was such a good man too. Tim even considered letting him sleep through the night. Going to the next name on the list and letting the poor Commissioner have a moment of rest.

But then Tim remembered what had happened to him, then he remembered what had happened to Steph. His mind invented her reaction. In his mind’s eye he saw the Joker raise his gun, he saw Stephanie’s blue eyes widen behind her mask and then the loud bang! Only this time the Joker’s gun wasn’t a novelty one, this time it was real. And Stephanie’s Kevlar didn’t protect her this time. Tim felt his hands shake again. His stomach churned in his belly and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Deep calming breaths, that was all he needed. When he felt the nausea pass he opened his eyes. He placed a hand down on the decaying metal rail, tightening it into a fist to stop the quaking. Deep calming breaths.

Here goes nothing.

Tim jimmied open the window and slid into the room as quietly as he could. He looked at the Commissioner, still sleeping soundly. He must have had a really tough day (that was the only type of day Gotham ever had).

“Jim.” Tim whispered, nudging the officer slightly. “Jim...”

The Commissioner jumped up from his sleeping position, gun in hand (did he keep one under his pillow? Good man). Tim raised his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He told the other man softly.

“Who the hell are you and why the hell are you in my house?”

“Don’t want to know how I got in?” Tim asked. Jim Gordon cocked the gun. Ohhhkay, no joking.

“You have five seconds before I shoot you.”

“Jim,”

“One.”

“You don’t want,”

“Two.”

“To do this.”

“Three.”

“I can’t believe you,”

“Four.”

“Don’t recognize me.”

“Five.” Then the Commish paused. “Why would I recognize you?”

Tim shrugged. Dammit, I shouldn’t have said that! Tim was thankful for the mask, which hid his sudden ‘oop’ facial expression. “Because we’ve met before.”

“Did I shoot you before?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Did I count to five already?”

“Please, Jim. There’s no one in all of Gotham who could help me more than you right now.” That was a lie, but what did Jim know.

“So you break into my house?”

“Really? I’m wearing a mask and I’m in Gotham. Are you surprised?”

Jim didn’t answer.

“Jim, please. Put down the gun.”

“I feel safer like this.”

“Fine, but at least hear me out.” The Commissioner hadn’t shot Tim yet so he figured he could talk. “I need to know what happened to Batgirl.”

“Nothing has happened to Batgirl.”

“The old one. And before you tell me to look it up, I have. I need to know what happened out of the report. I need to know what happened to the Bat.”

“Why? So you can take him down?”

“No!” Jim narrowed his eyes as the desperateness in Tim’s voice. “Please, Jim. Tell me what happened.”

“She got shot.”

“There’s more than that Jim, there’s more than that and you know it. I need to know it too.”

Jim frowned. Tim could see the gears turning in his head. Tim watched as Jim’s trigger finger tensed and then he heard footsteps. Slight, but there. There was a gasp, and both the Commissioner and Tim looked at the door. A little redheaded girl stood there, eyes wide as she looked from her father to Tim.

“Daddy? What’s going on?”

“Daddy’s just talking to a friend. Why are you up? It’s past your bedtime.” Jim said, eyes snapping back to Tim.

Tim couldn’t believe how much she’d grown in the five years he was gone. She had to be… what? Seven, now? “I wanted a drink of water.”

“Honey, you just had a drink of water.” Jim argued.

“I need to pee.”

“Fine. Go to the bathroom, Babs, but then straight to sleep.”

“Fine…” Babs mumbled. Before she walked away she glanced at Tim. “Hey Mister Vigilante, you better leave. Mister Batman doesn’t like other heroes in his city. That’s why Superman is never here.”

“Vigilante is a big word, how do you know it?” Tim asked. Jim glared at Tim but did nothing.

“My Daddy taught it to me. Also you should do as he says. He’s very good at shooting people.”

“Babs, go to bed.”

“But I gotta pee.”

Tim couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. James Gordon sighed. Barbara Gordon smiled at Tim before waving and walking the rest of the way down the hall.

“She’s cute.” Tim complimented.

“If I ever see you near her I will castrate you.” Like you’d even know I was there.

“How do you even know I have balls?”

“Really?” The look on Commissioner Gordon’s face almost made Tim want to laugh again, but he held back.

“Batgirl?” Tim prompted.

“Joker did what he always did, and she got shot. End of story.”

“Jim.”

“She was protecting someone… a child. The Joker was going to kill the girl and she offered herself up in the child’s place. He had Batgirl with her back facing to him, arm around her neck, gun to her back. Three shots in the same spot to the lower spine. Pierced right through the Kevlar.”

“And,” Tim took a breath trying to hide the voice crack. His vision changed automatically, now there were more gunshots, he could see their faces from the front. The Joker’s bloody grin and Steph’s blue eyes… “After?”

“She fell. Batman ran to her. The Joker got away. We never saw her again.”

“Not even you?”

“Not even me.”

“Th-thank you, Jim.”

“You-you said I knew you.” Jim mumbles when Tim backs out of his room, eyes never leaving the armed Commissioner. “Who-?”

“Sorry, Jim. Gotta leave some secrets to myself.” And Tim was gone.

Vicki Vale, Gotham’s finest investigative reporter, was still awake and working. Tim snorted, if this whole killing-the-Joker-thing didn’t work out maybe he could get paid for prying into Bruce’s other nightlife like Vale. Red hair pulled into a messy bun, a steaming cup of coffee on her desk, Vicki Vale was deep in her work. She stood and walked to the other side of the room, chewing on a pencil eraser. The wall she stared at had what looked like a large Murder Board, papers strung together with yarn, markers, post-its. Tim wondered who she was chasing.

Vicki’s lips moved and it took Tim a minute to realize that he was blown. I can see you. Tim watched as she turned towards the floor to ceiling windows and opened one. “Come on in, Batman.”

She thought he was Batman. She turned around again and continued to stare at the Murder Board. Tim swung into the room, as light on his feet as possible. “I actually expected you a little earlier. You know, this Black Mask guy might be my Lex Luth-“

“Black Mask, huh?”

Vicki Vale jumped, turning around. “You’re-you’re not Batman.”

“What gave me away? Was it the non-grumpy exterior?”

“Who-why are you here?” She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Eyes hard, chest puffed out. She wasn’t afraid. She was confident.

“Who? Call me Red Hood, and as to why? I wanted to ask you something…”

Vicki Vale raised a manicured eyebrow. “Shoot.”

Bang. “The Joker, what do you know?”

“About him?” Vale snorted. “Anything you can ask me about, and you ask about the Clown?”

“All I need from you.”

Vale frowned. “Hmm…” She mused. “How about a trade? Tell me why and I’ll tell you what’s he’s been up to.”

“Think of it this way, whatever you tell me will determine the biggest story of the decade.”

“… Will determine what about the biggest story of the decade?”

“Whether or not the story exists. Now spill.”

“I get first dibs on this story.”

“Miss Vale, if this all goes right I won’t be able to tell it to you. But Batman will.”

Vicki Vale narrowed her eyes. “This… do you think this will cause you to die Red Hood?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I intend to follow it through. Spill.”

“I don’t know where he is, if that’s what you’re asking. You’ll probably want to go to his girlfriend for that. But I have heard that something big is coming, the Joker doesn’t just break out of his comfy Arkham jail cell for nothing. He has something planned and it’s going to be as big as poisoning the water, as big as shooting Batgirl, as big as killing Robin.” Vale spoke like she was writing. The tones she spoke with were almost lyrical.

“And you have no clue what it is he’s planning?”

“Nah. Not that informed.”

“Well, thank you.” Tim turned to leave.

“Red Hood?” Vale asked before he swung out the window. “Why did you chose the Joker’s old moniker?”

“You’re an investigative reporter. You figure it out.”

Sunrise. Tim’s second in Gotham since his revival. He could get used to this. After a few minutes he shook himself from the awestruck gaze of the morning and began searching for a coffee shop. Villains didn’t vanish when the sun went up.

He looked at the last three names on his list:

5. Harley Quinn

6. Alfred Pennyworth

7. Black Mask

Tim hummed as he shoved a pastry in his mouth. He kept forgetting to eat, that was problematic when organizing an assassination. He should set a reminder or something. Tim hesitated a second before scratching out the last two names and switching them. He could save Alfred for later.

Now… how would someone go about finding Harley Quinn?

“Harley Quinn? Who the hell is Harley Quinn?”

Talia tossed the newspaper at Tim’s feet. Tim stared at the picture under the Gotham Gazette headline; a woman wielded a mallet larger than her over her shoulder. Her masked white face was split into a maniac grin. The costume she wore was split down the middle, red and black. The sections alternated as they went down and red colored diamonds decorated her black shoulder.

“The poor girl was seduced by the Joker.” Talia told him as she stretched, loosening her muscles. “I hope you will not fall into the same trap.”

Tim snorted. “Please, the Joker is the last Gotham villain I would sleep with.”

“Stand.” Talia ordered. Tim tossed the paper and stood. Talia attacked.

Tim paid and decided to start at the bottom. First he set a program to find any mention of Harley Quinn within the last hour, his phone began buzzing like crazy and it took him a moment to scan through them. None mentioned where she was, mainly just memes. Tim stuffed his phone into his pocket and went to the next step.

The first drug dealer he found knew nothing, but he did helpfully point Tim to his superior who in turn (with a little incentive) told Tim that he didn’t know anything about Harley Quinn but hey, Poison Ivy was in town recently and she had been seen around Harley, why didn’t Tim check the Botanical Gardens which had recently closed down?

Tim thanked him and started towards the center of downtown, where the Botanical Gardens were. Tim raised his eyebrows when two masked bandits ran by.

Really?

Tim heard the nearest bank alarm go off and he ducked into an alley and slipped on his helmet, turning in the direction of the bandits. This would be fun. Tim ran them down, sirens beginning to blare in the distance. They didn’t have a getaway driver and they were in the middle of the city, either they were extremely stupid or they had another escape route. Only when Tim followed their dust into a dead-end alley did he realize their escape plan.

And Tim had been sewer-free for six months...

Grudgingly, Tim slipped open the manhole cover in the alley way and climbed down onto the dry path next to the pungent stream of shit water.

“Aw, c’mon! It’s day, the Bat ain’t gonna show!” Tim heard the echo of one of the bandits.

“Dude, it’s the Bat. He’ll show up at the hideout.”

“We’re in the clear, dude!” Tim hedged around the corner to see two unmasked bank robbers. The two of them were dividing up money into small bags they must have stashed here.

“Not quite.”

One of them jumped, dropped his bag and money spilled out. “Shit! I knew we was gonna get caught!”

“Dude, do you see a Batsymbol on him?” The other asked him.

“Robin don’t have a Batsymbol.”

“Yeah, but Robin’s Robin.”

Tim snorted. Couldn’t have said it better myself. “You two sound like a married couple.”

“We are!” The upset one chirped. He waggled an ungloved finger with a ring on it.

The other nudged him. “Dude!”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Tim said, grinning behind his mask. “You haven’t lost any cool points for being married.” They shared a loving look and Tim sighed. “But you’re both going to jail.” Tim took out a pair of handcuffs. “You have five seconds to surrender.” He told the happy couple.

“Yeah, right.” The over-confident one said.

Tim sighed. It didn’t have to be this way. The fight wasn’t much of a fight, but more of a they-tried-to-attack-him-with-a-bat-and-Tim-took-it-away-and-bopped-them-on-the-head-until-they-submitted-to-being-cuffed. Tim refilled the bank bags with money and grabbed the chain on the handcuffs. The married couple grumbled.

“I told ya we’d get caught.”

“I was trying to be romantic, okay? Plus, he ain’t a Bat. So you were wrong.”

“Really? Calling me wrong? That really the best idea right now?”

Ah, young love.

Tim dragged them out to the first police precinct he saw and handed them off to the first uniform he saw. Then he handed the rookie’s partner the money. “The bank robbers from about thirty minutes ago.”

Both rookies seemed a little speechless so Tim left them to their duties. After checking for a tail for a couple blocks he took off his helmet and found himself a street away from the Botanical Gardens. Cool.

Tim scaled the fence, and dropped into gated gardens. Tim slipped his mask back on now that he was out of the public’s eye. He looked around, he’d been here once with Bruce and they’d spent the entire day learning about plants. In Bruce’s defense it was technically Robin training, the more that Tim learned about plants the safer it was for him to fight Ivy. It made sense that she would set up camp here, but Tim couldn’t help but see the cliché-ness of it.

“Yooo hooo. Ivy? Anyone home?” Tim called. He walked through the rows of plants. Here were a bunch of lilies, water and non, some roses, some different type of palms…

Something wrapped around Tim’s leg. Tim tugged on the vine gently. This climber had no fruit or flowers on it, but it did have hand-size green leaves. Tim prayed it wasn’t poisonous and took out a knife from his jacket. He moved towards the vine and the vine shrunk back, as if afraid of the knife. Huh.

“Listen,” Tim told the plant. “I don’t want to hurt you. But if you don’t let go of me, I won’t have a choice.”

The plant stayed there for a second, as if thinking, before retreating. Tim thanked the plant. Ivy had created sentient flora, that was… spectacular! Tim wondered how she did it, when she did it.

“Who are you?” He heard someone purr. And it wasn’t Selina, fancy that.

“Name’s Hood. Red Hood. Pamala, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

“Pamala…”

“Isley? You know, like your name?”

“I know my name, Hood.”

“Can I ask you some questions?” Tim repeated, turning around.

The redheaded eco-terrorist pet one of her plants. “Okay.”

“Harley Quinn. Where is she?”

“Why?”

“I need to ask her something.”

Ivy frowned. “She doesn’t need another man in her life. The last one wasn’t so kind and she still isn’t over him.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I need her, Isley. I want her to tell me where the Joker is.”

“Why? So you can weird him out with hero-worship? It’s not his style, you know.”

“I thought I was being cryptic, but apparently not well enough.” Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. “I want to kill the Joker, Ivy. So tell me where the only person who can lead me to him in the world is.”

Ivy chewed her berry-red lips. “You want to kill the Joker?” She asked.

Tim didn’t respond. He just held her gaze.

Those rose-colored lips curled into a grin and seemed only a little too insane for Tim’s taste. “I haven’t heard from her in a while, but I can tell you where she probably is. She has an apartment from before the Joker. It’s officially abandoned but every now and then she goes back there. 19th and 92nd. Number twenty-two, apartment one.”

“Thank you, Pamala.”

“Hey Hood? Kill him for her. Kill him for me too, but mainly, kill him for her.”

“Isley, I’m killing him for everyone.”

Harley’s apartment was small. Tim hesitantly knocked on the door. The door swung open and a blonde girl in pigtails with a white tank top that professed PENNYWISE IN THE STREETS, HARLEIQUIN IN THE SHEETS poked her head out.

“Harley Quinn, I presume?”

She popped her bubble gum. “That’s Doc-tah Harley Quinn to ya. Who are ya, anywho?” She popped her gum again.

“Sorry.” Right, she used to be a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum before her spiral into mass murder-hood. “Doctor. Can I ask you a question?”

The blonde hummed. “Sure. Is it medical? Want me to look at a wart? ‘Cuz y’know y’have a big red one on your face.” She pointed to Tim’s helmet and Tim crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m looking for the Joker. Do you know where he is?”

Harley shook her head. “Uh-uh. I ain’t with him anymore. We’re broken up for good this time.”

“This time?”

“Yeah. Finally got sick of it, y’know. A gal can only take so much.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“Nah.”

“Do you know what he’s planning?”

“Uh-uh.”

“So you’re no help at all.”

Harley popped her gum. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

“Hey! How’d ya find me?”

“Poison Ivy. You know, you should really give her a call. She cares about you a lot.”

Harley smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah. She does. It’s nice, ain’t it? Havin’ someone care.”

Yeah. It probably is.

Tim stared at his list. Five down, two to go. There were two ways to get to every crimelord: get their attention, or do business with them. Doing business with them was actually much harder to manufacture than getting their attention, doing business had to deal with things like money and relied heavily on how much weight your name carried. Tim’s moniker carried no weight yet, only about seven people knew that the Red Hood had been revived.

So getting the Black Mask’s attention it was. Tim heard his stomach growl and he walked into a café to eat and began planning. It took Tim a half hour to find his first Black Mask dealer. It took Tim another hour to find one of Black Mask’s lieutenants. They were all in the hospital by five pm, each with varying degrees of broken bones. Attached to the last one (a dickwad who Tim had found organizing new locations to start selling whatever he was trying to hook the local kids on) was a note addressed to the Black Mask.

9 PM

Crime Alley

When Tim arrived at eight forty five to scope out the alley he was pleasantly surprised to see armed guards strolling the block. So Black Mask wasn’t stupid, well Tim couldn’t win all of his battles. Tim waited silently on the rooftop he was on for another fifteen minutes, a black stretch limousine pulled up at the head of the street and Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. The man himself stepped out of the car, bodyguards on all four sides. To the right of him stood a man with a clipboard, probably armed to the gills.

Black Mask quickly surveyed the area before crossing his arms over his chest. “You called?” He asked.

Tim swung down from roof the building he stood on, and sighed as every goon in sight pointed a gun at him. “Really?”

No one spoke.

“I feel much safer talking without lethal weapons pointing at my head.”

“I feel much safer talking with lethal weapons pointing at your head.”

Fine. “So it’s going to be that way, huh?”

“Who are you?”

“Red Hood.”

Black Mask seemed disinterested.

“It took me less than half a day to incapacitate your narcotics lieutenants.” Tim added.

“What do you want?”

“Information. What do you know about the Joker?”

“Nothing. I’m new to town.”

“Five years new? I don’t want old stuff. I want now. Where is he? What’s he planning?”

“I told you, I don’t know. And even if I did, why would I tell you?”

“Wow. You are new to town, Mask. Didn’t you know that Gotham villains network?”

Tim was sure that Black Mask was giving him a particularly threatening glare, but he looked kind of idiotic with a Halloween mask on. Then again, this was Gotham.

“I don’t know.” Black Mask repeated, his voice stony.

“Fine. I also came here to warn you, I’ll be operating in Gotham and I will be operating in your turf. If you or any of your men get in my way, I will kill them without a second thought. I won’t be here for long. But I will be here for a while.”

“Why the forewarning, Hood?”

“I’m nice like that.” Black Mask didn’t seem impressed. “That’s it.” Tim said when no one spoke. “You can go home now.”

“Or I could kill you.”

“I took out a good amount of your organization in half a day. Imagine what I could do to targets that I didn’t have to track down and a surplus of guns.”

“But you don’t have the guns.” One of the goons pointed out in a very hostile way.

Tim snorted. “Yet.”

Black Mask nodded, slowly. He held up a hand, and turned to the man to his right with the clipboard. “Let’s go, Mr. Li.”

The man beside Black Mask nodded and nudged his head sharply in the direction of the car, telling the goons to follow.

Huh. Well that was easier than expected.

Tim checked his list over again even though it was unnecessary. He knew who the next and final person on the list was.

He just wasn’t able to admit to himself that he was terrified to look in on him.

Tim found himself at the Manor in what seemed like a time ellipse, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there, but he knew he had done it. He stood outside the gate awkwardly before he left, he couldn’t do it. Not now. Not yet.

Later.

On his way back to the hotel he was staying at he crossed off the final name.

Tim stared at the bed. He didn’t want to sleep (he never did), after all, he’d slept while he was dead. So he did what he always did when he wanted to ignore a bodily need (even before his death), he opened his computer and began typing.

By the time the sun had come up, Tim had done what had taken years of deductive work the first time around in just the few hours between when he got home and sunrise. Then again, this was his second time through, and he was a better detective now than ever.

He only discovered one name, but that was all he needed. He wasn’t interested in the girl anyway. The name burned in his mind, his mouth itched to say it. To spread the word, because Tim Drake, once again, figured out the identity of the Boy Wonder: Robin. Only this time, it wasn’t Damian Wayne.

Tim allowed himself the smallest of victories.

“Jason Todd.”

#diana writes #diana writes dc #diana writes batman #joke's on you #robin!reversal

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