#Steph would probably be the chariot

[goddess-of-graphite]

The Great Notes App Exodus: Gotham’s Fool

There’s a key that doesn’t seem to open anything. Tim can’t remember when he got it, only that it feels like he’s had it for forever. This is strange, considering he remembers everything else - just not the origin of this key.

He has tried it on every door and lock in Drake Manor. When he started venturing out to take photos of Batman and Robin, he would bring the key and try it on interesting-looking doors, just in case.

When he became Robin, he stopped taking the key everywhere with him. He didn’t want to lose it, and it seemed irresponsible to take up room in his pockets with it when he could fit more smokebombs or an extra batarang instead.

And then Red Hood showed up. Because Jason had come back.

And he was furious.

The Jason that hunted him down in Titans Tower was not one he recognised. He had Jason’s face, and his training, and his memories - but everything about him was twisted, dark and distorted like a funhouse mirror.

As the man-who-was-once-Jason left Tim a broken, bleeding heap, as Tim fell to the gentle arms of unconsciousness, he dreamed.

A plane, the layout that of an open cockpit and a row of seating lining either side of the body, like that of the mission-grade vehicles he’s seen the Justice League use occasionally. Gentle turbulence, the windows dark and empty. The inner walls shiny and black, the seating deep blue. A man with a nose longer than the Penguin’s seated across the wide isle from him, unrestrained by seatbelts, uncannily long legs crossed, leaning his sharp elbows on a table that curved out from his seat. A boy younger than him, with eggshell white hair and large, yellow eyes, dressed in a velvet steward uniform with a cute little hat.

The man’s high voice, words swimming through Tim’s concussion to reach him.

“How curious. A new guest has appeared in the Velvet Room at last.” 

A wide, wide grin, bulging eyes barely contained by a bushy brow. “I believe it is time you start trying that Key once again. You might find that it can open doors it couldn’t before.”

As the dream faded, questions trapped beneath Tim’s leaden tongue, the words trickling into his ears slowly:

“Perhaps you ought to start with the room that has remained untouched since before you strapped wings to your back and learnt to fly.”