#and then they have bruce like actively looking for replacement robins which like???? he didn't want another robin????

[navree]

there's a lot of reasons why that titans show wanting to do batfam specific arcs, especially death in the family/under the red hood, flopped so hard each time, but one of the biggest is that they basically brought jason back after, like, a fucking month and it basically negates the entire thing

[vivalafxxku]

Crime Alley Solidarity

(I would like to preface this to say that I love Bruce but I need him to be the bad guy for the sake of my thoughts)

The Crime Alley Kids hate Batman.

Sure, at first it's because they think Batman abandoned Park Row, but they have some sort of respect for him since it could be worse? Without Batman, Crime Alley would be much worse but it's not getting better so their feelings towards the Caped Crusader is lukewarm at best.

Then Red Hood moves in and he... he looks out for them?

He vets soup kitchens, makes sure shelters are safe, beats (later kills, but Hood would never do that in front of a child) the crap out of creeps and drug dealers trying to use them? When he had the time, Red Hood would have impromptu tutoring sessions on the side of the street.

This leads to the Crime Alley Kids loving Red Hood.

So imagine their surprise that their favourite hero (they would never call Red Hood a hero to his face mainly because he would vehemently deny it, but that's what he is to the kids) that Batman, the supposed symbol of Gotham's justice, treats Red Hood with... was that disdain?

They've seen Red Hood interact with the other members of the team, they're friendly. The kids would even say they acted like family.

Nightwing shows the kids tricks and checks up on Red Hood. ("Are you eating, Little Wing? No new injuries? How are you feeling?" "Oh my god, you're really ruining my rep here, dickhead." It is said with no actual heat.)

Red Robin hands him information without needing an exchange other than a playful noogie that Red Robin wiggles out of in mild annoyance. ("Aw thanks Replacement, didn't know you cared so much." They can't see his face but hear the teaching tone of voice.)

Spoiler throws glitter at him and instead of firing a gun at the purple vigilante, he just sighs and attempts to shake off most of it. (It doesn't work, but at least it's red glitter.)

Black Bat would pop up, scaring the living daylights out of him, to give a quick hug before disappearing. (The kids get a kick out of the shriek coming from him.)

Signal, they rarely see the daytime vigilante, but when they do, Red Hood doesn't hesitate to give tips and tricks about their job. ("I'm not going to launch a rocket just to make an entrance for this bust, it's supposed to be discreet, Hood." "You can be discreet with a rocket launcher.")

And Robin threatens and complains when Red Hood claps a hand on his back or throws an arm over his shoulders, but like his reactions to Nightwing's clinginess, Robin doesn't do much other than verbalize his distaste even though he clearly has the skills to remove himself. (And if the kids witness Red Hood jumping across rooftops with a little bird clinging to his back with quiet laughter, that's no one's business other than theirs and the birds.)

So why was Batman looking at Hood with so much anger? Why was it that Hood looks to be shrinking on himself whenever the Dark Knight is nearby? Why do the other team members seem to step between them, almost like a protective barrier, when Batman talks to Red Hood? Why do his words sound stilted and rehearsed in reply to Batman's harsh words?

No one talks to their hero like that or makes their hero act like a shell of himself, especially not some wannabe hero who couldn't give them the time of day (or night).

So feelings towards Batman in Crime Alley turn from lukewarm to ice cold.

They don't talk to Batman, they actively hide from him (which they know puts a damper in the greatest detective's investigations, adults talk like kid's don't know what's going on all the time).

If Batman happens to corner them, they glare and are rude. They throw trash, pebbles, anything they can get their hands on and other kids distract so they can escape.

Crime Alley Kids look out for each other, and Red Hood is one of theirs.

[meritatem]

In his many nights alone, pondering over the ruins of the city his father once loved so much he sacrificed everything for it, Damian came to the conclusion he was never going to be a good person, no matter how much he tried.

Luckily for his cause, it was a moot point.

It didn't mean, however, that he felt free to be as uncaring as he wished. While he was sure his Richard would come to understand the complexity of his situation and the limitations it imposed on him, he would still be very disappointed in Damian if he knew that Damian had the possibility of helping others without risking his position, and he chose not to.

Why, come hell or high water, he had to worry about the living, the dead and the never were? This, it seemed, was really a purgatory crafted especially with him in mind.

So, given this reasoning, he had been trying to follow track of all events he could remember from his early days as Robin, which proved to be more difficult than he initially expected because Damian had been very dismissive of Batman's methodology at the start. Dick had been the one in charge of writing their reports because Damian deemed it a waste of time and thus, later, when he finally recognized the necessity of this kind of organization and the importance of memorizing all that was possible from his father's database, he always skimmed through Grayson's reports from his time as Batman, because it was logical, right? Why should he pay attention to that information he lived first hand? There wouldn't be anything useful there he didn't already know.

Pitifully, the real reason was just as pathetic as Damian himself.

He evaded everything he could from Grayson's brief period as Batman because it made him sad. Those files told tales about their time together, written with Grayson's characteristic style and made Damian long for what he lost, because even if it was for such a short period of time, those had been the happiest days of his life. Days that he could never get back, because Richard left, eager to retake his life in Blüdhaven while parting from everything else: Batman, Gotham, Damian. Not that he could fault Grayson for that, it was understandable, because everybody always left him behind: his mother, his father, his friends and his teams. Pennyworth was the only one that never did and in the end, his reward had been paying for Damian's mistakes.

If it indeed this was a ring in hell made for him, at least this time the punishment fitted the crime.

Naturally, back then, Damian had been unable to tell the real reason behind his avoidance of everything related to Dick and instead, he was convinced that what he felt was annoyance at the reminder of Grayson's days as a mediocre Batman, more so now that he was finally at his father's rightful side. His father, Bruce Wayne, the superior Batman, the real one.

All that denial and disdain, to what end? Because even back then, he knew, deep down, that he truthfully considered Grayson as his Batman... and, ironically, that made his father the replacement, the inferior one, the consolation prize.

Now, as always, thanks to his own shortcomings, Damian had to piece back the events from his past with only vague memories on where to look at. Currently, there wasn't any activity related to vampire covens in Gotham Cemetery or unoriginal church obsessed crooks. Hush and Zsasz were still in confinement and Damian had to be an absolute imbecile to allow them to escape imprisonment on his watch; it was also too early to think about Black Lanterns or bombs on historic landmarks of the city, which only left him with worries about bigger fishes like the Joker, Hurt or Red Hood. With any luck, Todd wasn't going to attract a new garden-variety of criminals to the city this time, but if he did, Damian was going to make him regret it, because he really didn't have the time nor the will for that kind of nonsense.

On the other hand, from what he gathered, Sexton's wife “died” before Damian even made it to Gotham and with the Joker still missing, the only rational next step was to wait; as for Hurt and his freaks, there hadn't been any sign of them despite Damian's constant surveillance, so he came to at a standstill.... until today's afternoon, that is.

Using pure, boring, detective work, he was sure he finally found a promising lead after months of being in the lookout. In the past, that's all he would need to be on the move, but as stated before, his newly night freedom came with the price of acting like the perfect little soldier, always following the rules and doing everything Alfred told him to do, which was the reason why instead of taking his gear and going out in the middle of the evening, what he chose to do was to look for Alfred, who at the moment was very busy in the kitchen, with a variety of cookware in the stove and all sorts of food in different stages of preparation scattered over the counters, giving the impression he was in the process of making a banquet all on his own.

Suppressing a sigh, Damian crossed his arms behind his back, straightening his posture. “I know you're indisposed at the moment, so I thought prudent to inform you I'm going out early today, an unexpected development has come up. Don't worry, your assistance won't be needed."

Alfred, who was currently chopping carrots over a cutting board, paused his movements just momentarily before resuming his work. “Master Damian,” ah, there it was, his admonishing tone. “What a big coincidence it is, for this development to happen on the day you knew I was going to be very preoccupied with this task, not to mention Master Timothy's absence.”

“Some would say that coincidences don't exist but I'm telling the truth, this wasn't planned,” and finally, he did sighed like he was trying not to. “It's a lead I need to follow and I don't want to disrupt your work, so I would... appreciate,” he said the word like he was unsure if that was its correct use. “If you allow me to do it on my own. I promise I'll be careful and follow protocol.”

For the next few moments Pennyworth stayed silent, skillfully moving the knife in a way that Damian knew that, despite being a master with sharp objects, he wouldn't be able to perfectly imitate. “We make decisions daily,” Alfred said then, almost soothingly. “Some are big, some are insignificant... but at the end, we all go to bed with the consequences, whatever they may be.” He finally stopped, carefully leaving the knife on the table, graciously turning to his left side, putting his hands behind his back, mirroring Damian's posture. “Damian, right now, at this very moment, I'm choosing to take your word and I can only pray this decision will not haunt me for the rest of my nights.”

Damian stood there, actually stunned for a few seconds before glaring at the man. “Pennyworth, please,” he uttered with obvious disapproval. “This is just some measly vigilante work, the use of your Thespian training is highly unnecessary and honestly, insulting.” He crossed his arms then, angling his head high. “When I become the head of this household I'll make sure your salary reflects the cost of your continuous disrespect.”  

To Damian's utter fascination, Alfred actually cracked a smile, full, amused and free of any pretension. “Hopefully by then I would have retired to a quiet and peaceful life in the countryside of Suffolk.” And just like that, all gravity was gone from Alfred's demeanor when he went back to his task. “All jesting aside, I do agree with your intentions, this seems to be a good moment as any for you to start acting without supervision, as I know you're capable of.” His tone sounded too light, almost cheery. “A promise from you is all I need, my boy, I trust you with my life.”

...

Damn it all to hell, now Damian really had to behave. Pennyworth, that treacherous man!

The last time he had been in Paris Island, was after a long night of running around the city trying to foil a very harebrained plan from Loveless; looking back, he didn't know why he bothered when he owed nothing to that Gotham he was stranded in. How ironic then, being back in this island for the same reason, at least on principle.

Ah, sometimes he hated Grayson for having ruined him irreparably with his kindness.

Unlike the Paris Island from the future, this one was just slightly less in disrepair but they were significant differences, like the presence of the failed residential complex buildings from the Anderson Real Estate Company: they were abandoned and falling apart, but still standing. And if his search had been correct, they were the perfect place to house dangerous criminals too.

Anticipating another long night, Damian selected one of the many buildings at random, knowing that the chances of finding what he was looking for at the first try were slim, but maybe he will get unlucky enough. Despite the building being completely boarded-up, he had no problems finding the spots where people had previously broke-in and taking that as his starting point, he entered as the last rays of the sun died in the sky. Like he anticipated, this search not only took him what it felt like an eternity, but it was also very unfruitful. From the basement to the last floor, he moved quietly, carefully, finding only traces of homeless people but nothing else. His search on the second building he entered went the same, with the only noteworthy thing being some empty shell casings in one of the first floors, but without any hint of an actual crime being committed to go along with the discovery.

The third building, however, made him take a longer pause when he was examining it. It was boarded-up too, but one of the side entrances had been freed and there were signs all over the ground of constant human activity, from tire tracks to footprints. In a way it was a bold display, making him more wary to the point he went to look out for a different point of entrance, ultimately deciding to make use of a basement window, taking the necessary tools from his belt to cut through the cover and once the window was open, he looked carefully inside before sliding in, standing still for a few moments and evaluating his surroundings, concluding easily that the place was far from being abandoned.

When he started to walk, he did it cautiously, looking for the slightest movement or smallest sound, taking notice of the objects he was passing but not considering any important enough for a second glance, at least until he briskly come to a halt by something that wasn't seen or heard; something faint but so recognizable.

The unique, unmistakable smell of human decay.

Damian gnashed his teeth and clenched his fists, his steps becoming incensed while he started to look for the body that without a doubt was there, berating himself for daring to hope something better than this, because this outcome should've been the only one expected from the start, given the kind of beast he was hunting for. His search finally led him to a far corner to the left side of the window he used to sneak him; whatever horrors that were awaiting him, they were hidden in what it seemed a very intentional way by assorted junk, with boxes, crates, planks and gas tanks doing most of the work to obscure what Damian already knew he was going to find. Or the quantity.

It had been some time since he thought about his mother in terms of gratitude, but as he reached for his gas mask, he couldn't help but think about her; as with the majority of his skills and born talents, if he was able to stomach the odor of putrefaction with ease, it was all thanks to Talia. Regardless of how Damian felt about his mother's actions, she really made a work of art out of him... whether that art was of war or utter tragedy, it was all a matter of perspective in the end.

What was expecting him once he made his way through the clutter, was not exactly what he was imagining initially. Cornered against the walls were rectangular wooden crates, stacked one over the other, forming two piles, one consisting of four crates and the other one of three. Damian didn't need to make sure about the content of the boxes, since it was rather obvious, but he still approached the shorter pile, waving his hand in an attempt to chase away the flies while examining the lid before testing it, trying to push it with two fingers and noticing immediately it wasn't nailed. He stood on his toes and firmly grabbed the lid with his right hand and lifted it. 

Just as he assumed, there was a body there.

Like he had done countless of times before, Damian started to examine the scene with the same urgent precision of someone that knows the killer could be hiding somewhere in the same room as them. For the unaware, the wood shavings filling the crate and the industrial bubble wrap encasing the body would be seen as attempts to hide the terrible crime being committed there, but the grotesque mask covering the face of the victim, with its fiery artificial red hair and bloated features, told Damian that the killer wasn't trying to contain the messiness of rotting bodies... but to store dolls. Because in the eyes of Lazlo Valentin, that's what the people that fell into his hands were: just objects, imperfect and disposable.

Despite this ghastly discovery, Damian knew that he couldn't deviate from his original plan; there was even more urgency now, considering that police intervention was needed sooner than he initially expected. He had to find Valentin immediately.

He took off the mask covering his mouth and with renovated urgency, he retraced his steps with the intention of investigate the rest of the basement before venturing upstairs, however, he didn't need to go that far before bumping into the next evidence of Lazlo's involvement in this place: a couple of tables with a makeshift lab over them. Compared with anything Damian ever saw about the man, everything over the table was strangely placed in an orderly manner, even with things appropriately labeled, it seemed. With any luck there would be there something that could help them deal with Lazlo's drugs, which Damian knew were already in the market.

Considering the situation, the laboratory and whatever it was in the vials, they were the last thing in Damian's priorities, so he decided to ignore it and keep surveying, not that it took him long to come across the next sign that Valentin was using this place for his nightmarish experiments and not just as a dumping ground. He noticed first the coppery smell of blood, before finding the haunting sight of a solitary operation table, covered with a sheet that no doubt was once white. Damian inspected this new scene full of silent horrors, trying to determine how long was the last time Lazlo used this table and the instruments that were over the cart. He eyed the unsavory tools, focusing for a moment in a hammer that was in the middle of a drill and a screwdriver, and he couldn't help but wonder... if he used that same hammer to break Lazlo's fingers, would the set back with Grayson and Pennyworth be big enough to not be worth it? But before he could truly consider jeopardizing his standing, something caught his attention abruptly.

Just like the stench of death when he first started exploring, this other thing was as subtle. A small sound, almost unnoticeable.

Without hesitation, Damian decided to walk in the direction of whatever was there in here with him, but as he came closer and closer, the sound became clearer, enough for him to distinguish what it was. Crying.

Ever vigilant, knowing that the crying could be a lure if he had been discovered - even if he hadn't spot any cameras yet -, he kept his guard high while moving in the darkness. Not too far from where the operation table was located, there was what it seemed to be a storage room; Damian approached the heavy metal door and put his right ear against it, determining that what he was hearing definitely sounded like a child. 

So, this really was going to be one of those nights.

He examined the lock that kept the room closed and took the appropriate lockpicks from his belt, fidgeting with it and opening it in seconds. He left the lock carefully at one side of the door over the floor, trying to make as less noise as possible, but as soon as he lifted the handle of the slide bolt, the grating sound it made alerted whoever was inside, because the crying stopped immediately. With that plan out of the window, Damian didn't even bother to open the door with caution; although he stayed alert for the possibility of a confrontation, it was clear soon enough that the only thing in the room were three metal cages. And as one would expect from a abhorrent place like this, the cages were sufficiently big as to imprison people, not that the speculation was needed when one of them currently held a couple of captives.

Damian couldn't calculate how old they were from their positions, since they were cornered as far as they could go in the confines of the cage, facing backwards, but he at least could tell one was a kid, despite the fact that the older person was, presumably, trying to shield them in their arms, not that it was very effective. 

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he enunciated firmly. “I'm here to help.”

He was hoping the young sound of his voice would be enough to instill some assurance in them, but when the only thing it did was to made them flinch, he lowered the hood from his head with one hand while he looked for his flashlight with the other, walking towards the cage.

“I'm working with Batman.” He finally added, not knowing what could be more comforting than that to a victim in this crime infested city.

And apparently he was right, because the older of the two finally turned to face him in the dark before Damian turned the flashlight, directing the low light to his side as to not blind them. There, in the cage, was a teenager, dressed in casual clothes and other that the haunted look on her face, she seemed relatively well given the circumstances, since at first glance she didn't seem physically harmed, but he couldn't be sure about the state of the kid, hidden in the girl's protective arms. 

Before kneeling in front of them, Damian made sure to do it at an angle that gave him perfect view of the door, in case Valentin - or anyone, really - decided to appear out of nowhere. He left the flashlight on the floor while he retrieved again his lockpicks, this time to work on the cage's lock.

“Is any of you injured?” He questioned, taking the lock in his hands.

It was as if a spell had been lifted, because the girl suddenly came to life, squinting eyes finally focusing on his face, not looking at him anymore as if he was a ghost or an hallucination.

“I, ah...” she began, voice weak before gasping, but after that, her voice became unusually steady. “I'm Merle Smith and this is my sister Roselin, we were taken from Langstone Lane on April Seventh, my sister is fine but I think my left foot it's broken or something, it hurts a lot when I try to move it, I don't know where we are or why this person, man, did this to us, we've had never seen him before.”

The lock clicked open. “That's was very informative.” Damian couldn't help but said, with a frown. 

“My mom is a Nine One One operator.” She answered and then the façade was broken. “Oh, you have to call my mom, please, please! Tell her we're okay!”

“I need to get you out of here first,” he stated, stepping away and opening the door of the cage. “How long has it been since you saw the man who did this?”

“I—I don't know, he took my phone, I don't know how long we've been here, I can't see the sky, there's no windows. Why are you asking? You didn't catch him?”

“I’m planning to but this is more important, can you walk? Climb?”

Merle gasped again, fear taking, if it was possible, more color from her already paled face. “I don't know, I don't think, I, I,” whatever she was going to say, she stopped, staring into nothingness for a moment. If Damian hadn't been paying attention to the door, he would've believed that Lazlo was right there. “Rose, Rose,” she called, releasing her sister from her embrace, gripping her firmly from the arms, forcing her to look at her. “Listen to me, Rose, you have to go with Robin, okay? Go with him and do what he says, I'll catch up later, okay?” Now that she wasn't hiding from the world, it was clear that Roselin couldn't be older than a kindergartener and just like one, she reacted with a wail, launching herself against her sister, clinging to her in the midst of a desperate refusal.

It had been years since anyone alive referred to Damian as Robin. It was a familiar name. Forgotten. A name that only Damian and the ghosts from his past called him, uttered in memories and hopeless daydreams. An era long gone.

And at the same time, it felt so fitting, so normal, so trivial, that Damian didn't bother to correct the misunderstanding, because it stood to reason, didn't it? R on his chest or not, a kid claiming allegiance to Batman, rescuing people from a killer in the middle of the night, who else would it be, if not Robin?

But Robin - The Robin he had been - would never ever consider what Damian was about to do.

“Both of you, stop it,” he said firmly and loud enough to be heard over the sisters' voices at the same time he activated the tracker that was in his belt, which effectively made available his location to the rest of the zanies that worked for his father's cause. “No one is staying behind, now try and be quiet, I need a moment.” And suppressing his usual sigh, he fidgeted with the lines of his comm before talking in the most neutral tone he could manage. “Oracle, do you hear me?” While he waited for an answer, he began to give the room a second glance, like he was expecting it to conjure a window or a hidden passage.

“Loud and clear, this better be important, I'm a little busy.” Came finally the answer just when Damian was about to try a second time.

“I'm at what I suspect is a serial killer's basement,” he started without preamble. “There's a body confirmed but the count may rise to seven, I don't know the whereabouts of the perpetrator but there's two captives here, sisters, a teenager and a kid, the teenager is injured and by her own estimation she may not be able to climb using my point of entrance, how should I proceed?” He finished saying, as brief and concise as he could.

Robin would've try to solve this little crisis on his own, just like the first time he faced Professor Pyg, regardless of that outcome.

No One, on the other hand, had rules to follow: when confronted with a genuinely precarious situation, he was to call Pennyworth immediately... or Gordon, if the first wasn't available.

On the other side, Barbara's answer was almost as immediate as his explanation. “I see work started early today,” she put it mildly, with that same dry humor everyone in this line of occupation adopted eventually. “Okay, here's what you're going to do,” she said after a brief pause. “Stay with the girls, hide if you can and try to avoid fighting, give me a second, I'll call you back.”

Well, that was as useful as he expected it, but at least Pennyworth couldn't complain now about Damian not following instructions.

When he went back to the cage, he got as far to open his mouth to say his next words but Merle was faster than him. “Was that Batman? Did you call him?” She asked eagerly, desperation in her words but full hope in her eyes.

“Of course,” he answered without missing a beat. “This is not a good place to be, we need to move.” Without waiting for an answer, Damian put his hand behind his back, detaching the extendable staff that he carried on the belt.

As much as he loathed using Tim's preferred weapon more often than not, it was out of necessity, because his sword was, at this point, more of a fashion statement than anything else, giving the fact that the enemies he was facing on the daily were just thieves, gang members and low-tier street drug dealers, so it was imperative to employ non-lethal tools. Maybe one of these days he'll have the misfortune of crossing paths with someone like Deathstroke and finally put his sword to good use.

Damian expanded the staff and put it front of him, gesturing towards the teen. “Here, hold onto it.”

This seemed to be what finally convinced Merle to move, because she let go of Roselin, pushing her gently to encourage her to get out of the cage. Once Roselin was out, Merle followed suit, struggling to stand up even with Damian's help, taking deep breaths, but despite this, as soon as she was stable in one feet, supporting her weight with the staff, she was quickly to put a conciliatory hand over her sister's head, muttering reassurances and smiling at her like everything was right in the world; somehow, it reminded Damian of Richard. 

“Follow me,” he said, taking the flashlight from the floor, turning around to look directly at Roselin, extending his other hand, very obviously asking for hers. “And don't talk, we need to be as quiet as possible.” Roselin looked at her sister as if asking permission and with just one nod from Merle, she took Damian's hand with more force than what he was expecting.

After that, the silence was broken only by the constant hits the staff made against the concrete floor and the noise of lumbering steps; if it weren't for the fact that they were pressed for time, Damian would've exanimated Merle's injury, but staying in that room made them sitting ducks, although if, realistically, taking on Lazlo and his possible brainwashed victims shouldn't be a problem for Damian, more so since he came especially prepared for crowd control, but the presence of the sisters changed things and moving them to a safer position was the priority now.

Damian's intention was to lead them in the same direction he originally came from, because it was far away from the stairs and he was already familiar with that area. Sadly, fortune didn't favor him much these days, because even a plan as simple as that crumbled in an instant: over the noise of Merle's limping, he caught something else and stopped straightway, making a shushing sound that made Roselin squeeze his hand hard. His vacillation was minuscule because the next second, he turned and swiftly lifted the kid in his arms, covering her mouth with his left hand.

“Someone's coming,” he whispered. “We need to hide,” he pointed with his head the same operation table he passed before. “Under there.”

Damian started to run, so he didn't see the way Merle covered too her mouth with one of her hands, her eyes filled with sudden tears the moment she put her left foot on the floor, drowning as much as she could her cries of pain while she started to run, following the shaking light from the flashlight, which Damian left on the ground when he deposited Roselin under the table, not wasting a second, he turned back with the intention of helping Merle, just in time to catch her when she tripped with her own feet; with one hand he supported her weight, with the other he caught the staff inches before it hit the floor and using Merle's own momentum from the fall, he spun her to the side, making her reach the floor almost delicately. While she crawled the last stretch, Damian retracted the staff, slipped under the table, turning off the flashlight as soon as Merle made it and proceeded to arrange the cloth, trying to hide the fact that it had been disturbed. Doing all of this felt like an eternity, but in reality they hid just in time, because almost as soon as Damian was done fixing the sheet, the heavy sound of a door opening in the distance was heard and then, there was light.

Fortunately, as Damian estimated when he examined the table initially, the fabric was thick enough to shield their silhouettes, not that the illumination was that good from what he could discern. He paid close attention to the sound of steps that sounded like they were going down the stairs, determining there they were just three people, which was theoretically, very manageable.

In a better reality, Lazlo - because it was him, merrily singing, like he did in some of Damian's nightmares -, would be here to check on his cursed drugs or something similar. However, in this reality, his steps and the ones that accompanied him came closer to the operation table, not to pass it by on the way to the lab, but to take the same route Damian did previously, following Rose's crying. Hiding was, it seemed, a very temporary solution that was going to be useless as soon as Valentin saw the empty room.

Damian took a glance at the sisters, who were back in the same position he found them: Merle tightly hugging Roselin, trying to protect her from the horrors of the world in her arms, that were so small and delicate in comparison of the last arms that hugged Damian just some days ago.

Having made a decision, he carefully slid out of the table from the opposite side where Lazlo was, silently moving around the table, leaning against its corners, trying to stay hidden as much as possible until he finally had a clear vision of Pyg and the unfortunate men following him, clothed in purple dresses and red wigs, unwillingly functioning as what Valentin infamously called Dollotrons. With their back turned to Damian, he had the opportunity to attack at that moment, but he still waited to jump into action, like a feline considering the best moment to pounce; ignorant of this, Valentin had been talking to himself, just spouting a myriad of incoherent thoughts voiced out loud, happily moving through the room with the feather steps of someone who lacked any worries... but that stopped as soon as he came close enough to notice the missing lock and the slightly ajar open door. That was the moment Damian chose to make his move.

His presence was announced with a smoke bomb that appeared like it was magically conjured on the floor in the middle of three men; while Lazlo suffered through a coughing fit, the pig mask doing very little to protect him from the smoke, Damian was already running towards him, passing in between the Dollotrons and using the staff for support, he jumped to dropkick Pyg in the middle of the back, sending him stumbling forward, where he hit the ground after trying and falling to stay on his feet, perfectly landing inside the room. 

And before Lazlo even understood what was happening, Damian hurried to take the handle of the door, slamming it shut. “Tt. Idiot.” He exclaimed unceremoniously as soon as the slide bolt was back in place again.

Whatever unspeakable experiments the men had been subjected to under Lazlo's hand, whether it was the drugs or the operations made on them, the bomb didn't do enough to incapacitate them, but unlike the last time, when he was easily overpowered due to the sheer amount of Dollotrons he was fighting against, Damian found little trouble into subduing his opponents with almost no effort. Such simplicity was so unexpected, anticlimactic some would say, that he stood for a moment in silence after he finished restraining them, like he was expecting for new attackers to jump from the shadows out of nowhere, attracted by all the noise caused by the fight, but nobody else came. Maybe Lazlo was still in the process of amassing his compelled army, which could explain the dead bodies and just two lonely Dollotrons accompanying him.

The tension in his body was only broken when his commlink activated again, not with the voice he was expecting. “No One, report.”

“I was forced to engage, things are under control, the girls are fine, I also have reason to believe I imprisoned the one behind this. ETA?”

“Twelve minutes.”

“You should look out for henchmen in dresses when you get here, they may be more in the building. I think their boss was using a pig mask.”

“One of those nights, uh?”

The small amount of irony in Dick's terrible impression of Batman brought a wave of fleeting nostalgia that Damian promptly chased away. It seemed that, as much as he had changed with the years, he was still attuned to Grayson and the fool will never know it.

The Dynamic Duo that never were.

Later Damian would have the time mope around, but for now he still had a job to do, so he went to where Lazlo was making a ruckus, screaming and kicking the door; he stopped in front of it, flicking his wrist, making the staff to retract again and using one of its ends, he proceeded to repeatedly hit it against the door until Valentin went silent on the other side.

“Shut up,” he said as loud as he could, very close to yelling. “Aphrodite has forsaken you,” while saying this, he bent down to take the lock that was exactly where he left it. “You mock her.” He finalized, locking again the door as a final insult.

Damian's words were apparently stunning enough for Pyg to actually keep silent for a moment before resuming his racketing, but by that moment, he already made his way back to the operation table.

“Batman is almost here.” He announced as a way of alerting the sisters of his proximity before lifting the sheet.

Merle's startled expression took a few seconds to change, but when Damian's words settled in, she relaxed and started to gently shake her sister. “Rose, Batman's almost here,” she repeated, as if Roselin hadn't heard Damian's words. “It's okay now, it's okay, we're going home, shhh, shhh.” Merle started rock her sister, muttering one assurance after another.

Knowing there was little he could do, since he was terrible at offering comfort, Damian turned his back to them, trying to at least offer some semblance of space without leaving them unguarded. Colin definitely would be better at this if he were there.

Grayson took more than those twelve minutes to finally come to the basement using the same stairs Valentin did. To avoid unnecessary scares, Damian announced Batman's arrival and subsequent movements to the sisters right until Grayson was at his side and without saying anything to Damian, Dick moved the table out of the way and knelt down, offering the comforting words Damian couldn't while lifting both girls in his arms without problem. This seemed what it got Merle at last, because she started to cry, not with loud whimpers, but a torrent of tears and shaking shoulders.

“I'm taking them to the car,” Dick said, finally addressing Damian at the same time he started to walk towards the stairs. “The police and the EMTs should be here shortly, you're going to stay with them while I sort this out.”

“Shouldn't be better if I stay behind to make sure the pig doesn't escape?” He pointed to the door where Pyg could still be heard making noise in the background. “He can have more of his men just waiting.” Truth to be told, Damian wasn't really trying to argue his point, because he knew that Grayson was going to prioritize the girls, he just couldn't help but to voice the course of action that sounded more logical to him.

It came as a surprise then, when Dick stopped, the white slits of his mask narrowing while he looked directly at Damian with the same expression he used when he was analyzing evidence. It was, of course, just momentarily, because he quickly resumed his walking.

“Fine, wait for me and don't wander off.”

It goes without saying that Damian was taken by surprise, never expecting Grayson to accept so easily his suggestion; when Damian was his Robin, it took months for Dick to take his eyes out of him while patrolling, given all the madness that accompanied said activity more often than not. Of course Damian managed to go on his own way, especially in the day, because Grayson couldn't keep him under surveillance twenty-four seven, as he had better things to do as Batman. So this? This immediate trust in Damian's judgement in the middle of this kind of situation? He had to work so hard for it in the past! 

How liberating, finally having concrete proof that it was never about his age or his skills... the problem had always been just Damian himself. 

On the brighter side, seeing the extend in which this Grayson was willing to trust him was very informative, something that no doubt he was going to use in the future if the need ever presented.

His Machiavellian undertakings - as Pennyworth took to call them - where interrupted when Grayson's voice filled his ear through the comm again. “As soon as I'm there, I want you to get to the Batmobile fast, it's parked on the front. Knock twice on the window so the girls know it's you and call me after to let you in.”

“No need, you know I have access.”

“Robin changed the codes—”

“I know.”

“Let me finish, he changed them again before going with the Teen Titans.”

“I know, I have those.”

“Already?”

“I'm resourceful.”

“I'm starting to feel a little worried about exactly how resourceful you are.”

“It's too late for that.”

“You have too much free time, Agent A doesn't give you enough homework.”

“I'll make your life very miserable if you dare to share that with him.”

“I thought you were already trying that.” Damian would've been very offended at that statement, given he was on his best behavior, but even when he wasn't looking at him, he could still see the playful smile in Grayson's face. “Don't forget to call me when the first responders arrive, the girls are fine, Oracle is keeping an eye on them but I don't want anyone else snooping around the car.”

When Dick finally appeared again, Damian didn't bother to said anything else to him, having summarized the state of the room Valentin was in, so he directly ran to the stairs after exchanging a nod with Grayson. The building had the same layout as the one Damian inspected previously, so he didn't have problems navigating through it, he was, however, a bit surprised seeing more Dollotrons incapacitated on his path towards the exit, no doubt by Batman's hand. They weren't a lot, which supported his theory of Lazlo starting just recently with his horrendous experimentations, so in all likelihood he just went down with two of them and left the rest upstairs to keep guard.

Like Dick instructed, once he reached the car, he went directly to the driver's side, tapping on the window twice before letting himself in with the help of his pocket computer, jumping inside; despite the warning, the sisters flinched, which was perfectly normal response given the circumstances.

Merle hurried to shush her sister who was, of course, in her arms still. “It's fine, it's fine, it's just Robin, see?” From her position, Roselin moved her head slightly, just enough to let her right eye take a peek in Damian's direction before promptly getting comfortable again, hiding from view with the extra help of the foil blankets that Grayson clearly provided them. “Do you think the police is going to take long?” She said this time directed at him. “I really want to call my parents.”

Instead of dismissing the question like he would normally do in the past, Damian leaned forward and with the practiced movements of someone that has done this countless, he maneuvered the panel in the front, with the information appearing almost instantly in one of the screens. “At least twenty minutes more, there's a roadblock on the way of the nearest Police Station, the paramedics are going to be here first.”

Merle took a deep breath, her hand stroking Roselin's hair. “Can you call them? Like you called Batman.”

“We save the people, the police takes care of the rest.”

Merle frowned and for a second it looked like she was going to protest, but then she just slowly exhaled, leaning back against the seat. “Fair.”

All considered, the recent horrifying events were probably why Merle didn't have the will to argue against Damian's explanation, so at least he wasn't going to discuss the particularities of vigilante pseudo-rules with a traumatized teenager in the middle of the night... which he would, because that was how useless he was when it came to dealing with civilians, hence the reason Batman, Jon or anyone else present but him always took care of that part. Not like it seemed like he would've to worry about that in this case, because it was clear that Merle went back to pretend she was doing perfectly for the sake of her sister, chattering about nothing in an effort to fill the silence and not think too much about everything that just happened.

Damian recognized this babbling for what it was, but still, he couldn't stop himself from insert his opinion when something in her words caught his attention, probably because he was an idiot. “You should adopt.”

Merle stopped talking, a brief look of confusing in her face, like she wasn't expecting for Damian to talk again. “What?”

“If you want a dog, you should adopt one instead of buying it.” He clarified, like a fool, because odds were that Merle was just trying to cheer up Roselin with the prospect of a new pet. “If you're really considering it,” he continued, because apparently he couldn't just shut up. “Gotham Rescue Center is a good place, they treat their animals kindly.”

“That's cool,” she said, her tone ambiguous. “Do you like them?”

“The shelter or the animals?”

“Dogs.”

He frowned slightly, as always, trying to look disinterested with these kind of topics. “They're noble companions.”

Merle chuckled, like he just said a joke she found amusing. “I like German shepherds, but our place is too small. My dad wants a dachshund but my mom always says no.” And she shrugged, as much as she could with her arms full. 

“You should try to ask her again in a few days,” of course Damian wasn't trying to insinuate Merle should guilt trip her mother, but if the opportunity was there, well... surely her daughters deserved something for their ordeal. “If you think it'll help, next month the adoption fee in Chasing Friends is going to be half.”

“I don't know that one, where is it?”

There was a degree of absurdity in the conversation Damian and Merle submerged in, talking about street directions and appropriate dog breeds for small apartments, like Merle and her sister didn't went just through the worst experience of their short lives. But it worked, because time passed by faster and soon, sirens were heard on the distance, prompting Damian to call Dick, as he was instructed to do and in the blink of an eye, Grayson was there, helping carry the sisters over to the paramedics, in time for Commissioner Gordon to arrive at the scene in what was most likely his own personal vehicle, still no police cars in sight.

While Batman went to encounter Gordon, Damian observed in silence the sisters being settled in the back of the ambulance until the doors finally closed, just some moments after the police showed up. Now, standing without purpose on the brink of the frenzy he knew was coming, the only thing Damian could thought about doing was to back fall back into very old habits: he put his hood over his head and rushed to Grayson's side. Despite Merle's misperception of his identity, Damian wasn't trying to delude himself and believe his presence there had more meaning than a mere coincidence; so he purposely stayed out of the way, doing his best to pretend he was Grayson's shadow, not like it was that difficult to go unnoticed when not only Dick but also him were wearing black, even if Grayson's costume had a tint of blue in it, something easily ignored at night.

Once, Gordon and him had a brief disagreement about Damian's presence in crime cases: the Commissioner insinuated that his involvement could be reduced to Damian just “tagging along”. Naturally, he took offense at the time... and look at him now, doing exactly that, just following Grayson and Gordon, out of sight and quiet, like an afterthought.

And maybe that's how this night would've ended, with no one paying attention to him, until Grayson got tired and dismissed him or Damian found a good moment to leave when nobody was watching. But as much as he wanted to stay out of this, of not acting like there was value in his input, that he mattered, he couldn't keep silent when Dick and Gordon started to discuss Pyg's basement of horrors. Unlike all those times where Damian could only try and guide Grayson without giving away too much, this time it was perfectly reasonable for him to have answers, it was part of his own alibi, after all.

“He's not just another maniac like Zsasz.” He stated, voice firm and apathetic from his place behind Grayson. “I don't think killing was the motivation.” Batman turned, stepping away to let Gordon have a clear view of Damian, but he ignored the Commissioner and instead, he looked at Grayson. “Do you remember the drug ring I was investigating? Some weeks ago I found a drug I wasn't familiar with, I've been tracking it ever since.” Which wasn't a lie entirely, he did encounter Lazlo's drug, just not by accident but because he was actively looking for it. “That's why I originally came here.”

At the start of his partnership with Grayson, Damian did and said a lot of outrageous things, but Grayson always tried to admonish him on private, because it wasn't good for their image to argue in front of civilians, especially the police. That's how Damian became accustomed to the subtle tells in Grayson's face and posture that promised a lecture as soon as they jumped in the Batmobile.

Damian thought he was never going to see that look again on this Batman. “I expect a full report about this later.” That absolutely was code for “you're in trouble”.   

“This is my case, I saw no point on a report before I solved it.” He defended himself, crossing his arms. “I was expecting a drug lord, not a psychopathic serial killer.” Which was true in part, because he wasn't aware of Pyg losing lives at the start of his grisly experiments.

“That's Gotham for you, son,” said Gordon, turning to Dick, deliberately looking at his white eyes over the frame of his glasses. “I see your Robin lost his colors.”

“Commissioner, this is No One,” Grayson introduced at last, probably because that was the only course of action left. “He works with us.”

“Your sidekicks keep getting younger.” James' lips twitched slightly with displeasure, more noticeably thanks to his moustache. “It's a little late for a school night, don't you think?”

The indirect accusation was there, plain and simple.

In the past, after his father's disappearance, it had been easier to disregard Damian's size because both, Batman and Robin were different, losing a few inches in height with the upgrade. Now, however, with Drake still working as Robin, the contrast between him and Damian must be too striking to ignore if Gordon took some sort of offense towards his age.

“It's preposterous that you're entertaining the idea of judging me by the standards of a normal child, who do you think saved those girls you saw?” He refuted, his voice full of contempt. “You're the Commissioner, I thought you were supposed to be smart. If this is the best Gotham's Police has to offer, it's no wonder the city went to the dogs.”

Gordon's eyebrows threatened to disappear under his hair from how high he raised them, and with a weary look that a lot of people had directed at Damian before, he turned to Grayson again. “Where did you find this one? Gotham's School for Wayward Boys?”

“Don't worry, Commissioner, No One can handle himself just fine,” Grayson was very good at keeping a straight face, but Damian could see his amusement, which he supposed was better than Grayson being peeved at his lack of communication. “But if he ever comes to you for help, assist him like you would do for Robin.” Then he turned to look at Damian, stern. “You're done for the night, go back. No detours. I want that report at the ready.”

It was sort of funny, Dick thinking he had any kind of authority over him when Damian wasn't Robin. He must even thought that making that report was like an equivalent of forcing Damian to write lines, like Damian didn't have a whole fake investigation in the waiting, the same one he started to prepare when him and Colin stumbled upon Pyg's work in the streets for the first time. 

Grayson said it himself, Damian had too much free time.

⪻Chapter 18

[arunneronthird]

Hi, this is the Bruce and Jason anon again and you're completely right! Tim and Kon's situation is very different from Bruce and Jason's because Tim was like...literally trying to engineer a perfect replacement for someone he lost ON PURPOSE. Which is just completely fucking crazy from start to end. Especially when Kon, as a clone himself, struggled in the past with the idea of being created in a lab explicity to perfectly replace another person, then ending up not being identical/perfect enough to do that and having to learn to become his own person instead, not just superman 2.0. Like Tim was actually insane to still try and clone him while actively KNOWING all of this about his best friend and still deciding to go ahead and become the cadmus/lex luthor in this poor clone's story.

Also with the benefit of being able to actually know what happened while Jason was dead, how Bruce grieved, the whole messy process of how Tim actually became Robin, etc. through the comics, I agree that Bruce wasn't necessarily wrong. What I was mainly talking about was Jason coming back from the dead without any knowledge of how much of a wreck Bruce was when he was gone and seeing the product of that grief without any of the context.

Like Jason checks back in on his dad after maybe a year or two (idk comic timelines) and there is just a full ass new child (around the age jason was when he died no less) living in Jason's house, swinging round Gotham in Jason's old suit colours using Jason's vigilante name (the suit he died in, the name that he died for). He even LOOKS like Jason with his black hair a blue eyes. And because of the severe lack of context Talia provides, from the outside it's exactly as if Jason has been replaced, not grieved. Like when TV shows recast one of their main actors and the story continues on without stopping to acknowledge that anything is out of the ordinary. As if this new person has been here the entire time and the old one never existed at all.

Jason was also having problems with Bruce before he died so seeing this shiny new Robin take his place (and actually be good at it) is just so heartbreaking. Again, without knowing anything about Bruce and Tim's relationship, to Jason it'd seem like Bruce just got a shiny new sidekick that was Robin in all the ways B wanted and valued, all the ways Jason wasn't. It's worse when Dick, who Jason had a pretty strained relationship with, is all over the new guy in a way he never was with him. It mirrors what you were saying about Tim making the version of Kon that loved him in the way original-Kon didn't. Obviously not what happened to Bruce and Tim but WE know that not Jason

The third part doesn't really fit them so much, the only thing I can think of is Jason coming to the realisation that Bruce didn't actually care about him, or Dick, that he probably didn't even care about the new kid either. Like Tim and his clones, Robins all eventually get discarded and thrown away when they don't meet B's standards, when they're not perfect enough. It's what Bruce and Dick used to fight about all the time too, before Jason died. Has Steph been Robin yet by the time Jason comes back? Idk. It would certainly add to that idea. Child after child, in the middle of gun fight after gun fight. What kind of a monster does that? So Jason decides to put it to the test. How much does Bruce actually care about Robin? He certainly didn't seem to care when Jason died, but maybe that's too small of a sample size. There needs to be multiple test trials. If Batman thinks so little of his sidekicks, if he's really going to be so careless with them, then he should to be prepared to lose a few.

Sorry for how long this is, I was typing and completely lost the run of myself.

i... had like a page typed out and then the whole building lost power so i think thats a sign for me to stop answering while at work, i wont listen though

honestly im really glad that tumblr now shortens posts, but never apologize for length, i thought this was a great read and i love getting peoples opinions on things!

i agree with all this, really, i think jason, pumped full of green pit rage water, would come back and see himself replaced and completely snap, it works really well and i love that narrative

i dont think jason feels bad for losing robin, it wasnt his to lose, he wore dicks suit while tim wore a new one out of respect for him, i think he felt replaced in a... deeper level

he came back to see that someone was occupying the space the grief and pain would have been in, someone else was pushing his ghost away, living his life, being loved by his father, being cared for by his brother, someone better at his job than he ever was, cold and smart where he was rash and angry, he came back to see that he was not only replaced, him being dead made things better

ofc, this wasnt true, his death nearly destroyed bruce, and it took a lot of effort to get him to feel human again cause he had lost his son, but jason didnt know that, as u said

meanwhile, i love the new 52 tim, i think hes tragic in a visceral way, and i love how his pain is so easy to feel, but in a way im glad we dont really talk about that era too much and usually act like its not relevant to the canon cause... its hard to justify tim being a good person in the new comics after reading the 2015s one

like, tim failing to clone kon doesnt justify him actually trying to replace his dead best friend who struggled with his place in the world, and i think the writers recently realized if they want tim to be a dark but brave hero they cant also make him morally corrupt at best and absolutely insane, theres a difference between red robin desperately trying to find batman and being a rude mess in the process and red robin basically experimenting with lives

[aileysmirnov]

◇◆Ailey Villains Gallery: Scarecrow◇◆

Scarecrow's face claim: Adrien Brody

Secret vs Scarecrow! How did they met?

Ailey (Secret) and Scarecrow met 'thanks' to Batman:

One night in Gotham, Scarecrow infiltrated the Iceberg Lounge with the intention to Kill some of Penguin's Henchmen.

With a more "upgraded" (and letal) version of his fear gas.

Just as a way to send a message to Oswald who had stolen some of his gas and now was selling it for a very high price on the dark market.

To prevent Batman from intervening, Scarecrow convinced Riddler and Dr Pig to create a "distraction" (if murdering almost 11 people between the two and then make an "spectacle" about it, can be called like that) for the Bat.

And unfortunately when the "Caped Crusader" realized it was a trap (thanks to one of Riddler's "funny" riddles) he was already too far from the building.

Too far from stopping Scarecrow.

He analyzed all of his options pretty fast: he couldn't send Damian, he was with him, Dick was in Blüdhaven, He already send Tim after Riddler and Steph after Pig, Cass and Barbara where in another state with the Birds of prey, Duke and Kate where teaming up to solve a crime involving a new rising homicidal cult and Jason…he wasn't in good terms with Jason…again…and he losed his track at least 2 weeks ago.

And so…he reluctantly took the phone and dialed the number of the one person he could think of.

Ailey was doing the usual: shouting angrily and throwing a tantrum towards her employees (like the good little tyrant she is) for a last minute cancellation of 4 of the stellar models for the upcoming Winter collection of SVELLYO. When all of a sudden she received a call from the one and only: Bruce fucking Wayne.

—B! What a perfect timing! Is not bothersome at all!—she remarked the words sarcastically annoyed a tone that sounded like the venomous hissing of a snake.

—Listen Ailey, I don't have time for thi-

She cut him off

—What a coincidence! Neither do I, B's man! Byee~

—Ailey…—He didn't shout at her but his more menacing (than usually) tone, make her feel like he did; it was a voice tone that Bruce normally just used when he was with Joker and when he used it. Oh boy, You just knew the man ain't taking any shit.

—Listen to me. And listen. C A R E F U L L Y. Scarecrow is in the Iceberg Lounge it's 2 minutes away from you by flying. I need you to go after him and prevent whatever he's up to against Cobblepot.—He said a little more ""nicer"" (if it's even possible) this time, but still with a hint of frustration in his voice.

—yeah…well…I also need this little favor, B—Bruce was about to fucking lose it in that moment, there where lives in danger and this CHILD was just thinking of herself!! But before he could lash out at her with a "I'm dissapointed" speech; Damian took the phone.

—He said he'll do it, you have my word. Now…Go! —Robin said without thinking twice

—Thank you, my zelenyy*! I'm on my way! —and with an Angry Bruce Lashing out at every single thing on earth on the background, Ailey hanged up, wrote a quick note to his secretary, asking him to give all of her employees a rise (including him, of course) and sprinted out to SVELLYO's roof top; without a word to the perplexed staff.

Once she stood there.She could feel the cold night breeze hitting her face and without any doubt she jumped abruptly from one of the highest points in the city.

Her eyes opened at the middle of his falling, adrenaline and renewed energy cursing trough her veins, her blonde hair replaced with a glowing rose gold, a metalic blue growing in her gaze and her outfit conveniently transformed on an all black bodysuit with slight hints of gold on the bottom of her sleeves.

His whole body defying gravity, flying through the night sky with the same grace and glory of a swan and leaving a subtle trace of light glowing pink as she passed by.

She arrived at the Iceberg Lounge back entrance at least 5 seconds earlier from what Batman had predicted.

Penguin's henchmen where all gathered in what appeared to be a small cellar on the very back of the casino, they were complaining about an out of the blue"meeting".

Secret (Ailey) assumed it was Scarecrow's way to get them all in the same place and avoid any unnecessary complications.

With extreme caution she stood and watched near the skylight, trying to fade away her own slightly glowing nature with the moonlight.

Her eyes searched quickly inside the room, ans she soon spotted atleast 6 gas tanks oddly put in some of the poorly lighted corners of the cellar.

But no sign of the maniac

Or so she though until the abrupt pain in her neck and the obscure presence behind her sooner than later make her realize; she wasn't alone.

She could feel the infernal pain from the toxin filling his lungs and cutting her breath and her vision becoming a little bit dizzy.

—You should know better than spying on people, dear…It might not end up being what you expected—his voice was deep and unforgiving, a condescending tone and the weight of countless sleepless nights leaked through every word.

She tried to speak but only felt her throat closing.

—Now, now, dear…all will end up soon. —His tall and lanky figure covered by worn out clothes to match his own psychotic aesthetic made him look intimidating. And without any glimpse of empathy he proceeded to toss her body aside with a kick like if she was a filthy dead rat, and continue to watch expectantly to the ignorant henchmen above.

He was waiting, waiting for one of them to foolishly reveal where his beloved toxin was and after a couple of minutes one of them casually mentioned a secret basement where the most important items waited patiently for whoever was able to afford his almost ridiculously expensive price.

Crane smiled wickedly to himself…he had just what he wanted…almost.

He activated the slightly hidden tanks of fear gas and watched in admiration as some of the henchmen faces started to change into a horrified expression.

—Head's up, asshole!—He didn't even had time to process the situation properly, when Secret's hands where at both sides of his head, the tip of her fingers illuminated and emanating Rose gold strings of pure energy attaching themselves to Crane's mind.

And at that exact moment he remembered: the pain, the panic, the fear.

The very first time he tested his toxin, was on himself: he was laying in to that dirty old shack for what felt like an eternity; he screamed and begged and yet the hallucinations didn't leave him, his mind was racing with the most horrible thought it could possibly even consider, everything so real and yet so distant. He felt hopeless.

And the delicate strings clinging tight around his mind. Lord, what a bittersweet nostalgia! He felt the same, the same way as the first time, he could hear the screams, the voices, the endless discontent. But couldn't find anything around him…just…hollow and for some strange reason…that scared the shit out of him.

Ironically it had been years since the last time Crane felt genuine fear.

When Crane woke up, he was already in that horrible place: a worn out cell from Arkham

But strangely he didn't feel any kind of anger or frustration. No…he felt…elated in the best way possible almost like if he had reborn!

And so…he stood there; staring blankly at the small window with an almost devilish smile across his face.

Waiting for the next encounter

���◇◆◇

Ailey felt so proud of herself, she had successfully managed to knock out Scarecrow, control the gas leak and save Penguin's henchmen! All alone! And even took the liberty to recover all of Crane's toxin samples Penguin had!

She couldn't wait to see Bruce's face, Oh that man owed her BIG TIME!

When Bruce and Damian finally arrived at the Batcave, he was welcomed by her.

She looked like a 10 year-old who approved one of his test and was proudly showing off the paper to his parents.

Wich made Bruce smile…a little (even if he doesn't admit to it)

—See? You can trust me, B!—she said handing him the samples.

—So you send him to Arkham? Hmm…honestly I didn't though you'll made it…but good job…I guess…?—Damian admitted, while taking off his mask.

—Well, I'm glad I'm not THAT disappointing, sir! —Her tone expressing the sarcasm and slight frustration and offence in every word. Which Damian only replayed with a faint little smile.

—…Good Job, Ailey…—Bruce spoke for the first time since they arrived

—…and thank you for your help…—He completed with a slightly more """friendly""" tone (which just means less stiffness in his voice but still maintaining his authoritarian tone)

—yeah…well…don't thank me yet…we had a deal!—She said while playfully floating around him and touching the ears of his Bat-suit; Bruce could only do as much as to touching the bridge of his nose trying to contain his very obvious nuisance.

—…What do want? —He said sighing heavily.

—Nothing much, really! I want You, Damian, Dick and Katy modeling for SVELLYO winter collection catwalk, next week! —

◆◇◆◇

OMG! That was fun! I was going to put a small and cute little drawing of Ailey touching the ears of the Bat-suit but I still haven't finished yet! So yeah…I will edit it once I have it done!

Anyway! I loved writing this, and I will be uploading more content for Ailey, wich now she has her official anti-hero name! And is called

🥁🥁🥁🥁

Secret!

Shout out to @melyaliz / @insideoflit for the name idea! I honestly struggle so much with names 😅

Thanks to @Shiro.GURu (on insta) for helping me with this! Love ya, girl <3

Tagging: @lobodesaturno @snowflake2sstuff @lord-carstairs @weam0theblueblues @morefarthanaway