#followed promptly by a grim reminder that nothing is funny actually

[wreakin-havok]

Bonus Barry. He’s referring to a large knife the defense brought into court that day, which had been used to threaten and coerce Erik Menendez when he was 17 and told his father ‘no.’

[razputinrp]

Family Matters

A Thicker Than Water What-If

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It’s the middle of the day, and the house is dark.

That’s the first thing Oleander notices as he parks his car. The second thing he notices is how Milla shifts at his side.

“I really wish you would have let me drive, Morry. The jeep can be so off-putting for some children.”

“The day I ride shotgun in that disco travesty you call a car is the day I’ve permanently lost my license to drive,” he grumbles, irritation that they’re having this conversation again overriding the fleeting anticipation about the place. They step out into the afternoon sun.

No one is there to greet them outside, which is uncommon but not rare; some parents just don’t want to acknowledge this day actually happening until the Psychonauts are literally knocking at their door. Which Milla promptly does, stretching over Oleander to reach the metal ring knocker. He scoffs.

Tall people. Who needs ‘em.

It takes a solid ten seconds before the door opens, and the two are greeted by a woman around Milla’s age who looks very frazzled and antsy. She ushers them inside as if any prolonged lingering will make the agents change their minds.

“Thank you so much for making a house pick-up.” Her voice is hushed and full of nerves. Oleander recognizes it as the one he spoke to over the phone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t drive her out myself.”

“It’s no problem, darling,” Milla soothes like she always does. “We understand that many families are unable to travel so far. Whispering Rock is quite the remote location!”

“But we’re here now, so let’s see the little soldier,” her companion says gruffly. They’ve been led past a fortune-telling parlor and into a living room, and while there’s a similarly-aged man sitting stiffly on the couch who stares at the strangers, there’s no sign of the actual child they’re here to retrieve.

“Oh, right, right. If you’ll just excuse me one moment...” The woman lets out a breathy, insecure laugh. “You’re welcome to sit anywhere while you wait, please.”

Milla smiles and opens her mouth, ready to politely decline the offer, but Oleander is already settling himself in a rocking chair. The woman tenses, as does the man on the couch, but neither of them say anything. The frayed mother only gives them another nervous titter and hurries up the stairs to retrieve her daughter. As soon as she’s out of sight, the other man turns to them in feigned nonchalance.

“Can I ask what you’re doing here? My wife was awfully vague about it,” he questions. It’s not accusatory but not entirely kind, either.

The pair share a surprised glance. Oleander is the first to recover. “We’re here to -”

“Zanobi!”

Both agents jump and Morry springs right back out of the chair. The man on the couch doesn't even flinch. He simply turns his gaze to the stairwell, and as the Psychonauts follow suit, they see who has shouted so loudly.

Making his way down each step with shaky legs but a deft maneuvering of cane, an elderly man gives the two a warm smile.

"Zanobi, why are our esteemed guests not being properly serviced in the parlor? My friends, I apologize for such lack of hospitality."

"Oh, no, no, no, kind sir, I'm afraid we're not here for your marvelous business." Milla offers a hand to help him down the rest of the way, which he waves off in good-nature. "But I must say, it is an honor to meet a psychic with future sight! It’s such a rare and beautiful gift!”

The elder smiles wider, pleased, but there’s a newfound sharpness to the edges of his eyes. “Thank you, signora. It is not often these days that such talents are recognized for the marvel they truly are. If you know my craft but are not customers, what purpose has brought you to our humble home and family?”

“We -”

For the second time their explanation is cut off as the woman comes down the stairs with a little girl and a suitcase in tow. They both stop halfway upon seeing the old man, who has half turned to them with a raised eyebrow.

“Zalto! You - you’re - I thought you were still taking a nap,” she stammers, knuckles turning white from how hard she’s holding the railing.

“I was.” Zalto says simply as he eyes the suitcase. His tone is mild, but something shifts in his aura that sets Oleander on edge for some reason he can’t explain. “Adelasia, dear, what is all of this about? Do you know these strangers? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of leaving us.”

The little girl seems to be trying to make herself disappear, hiding in the space between the wall and her mother. The action is enough to harden the woman’s resolve. She walks the rest of the way down the stairs, pulling her daughter behind her.

“I’m not leaving, Zalto, Mina is. These two are camp counselors. They’re taking her to a summer camp a few states away.”

Zalto’s head swivels back around to the agents. His friendly demeanor has been replaced entirely with a glare that could wither a cactus.

“Oh? And what kind of ‘camp’ is this?”

They feel pressure bear down on their minds, and immediately push it away on instinct. The old man sneers.

“Aha, psychics! I knew it! Are you trying to take mia piccola away from me?”

“Nothing of the sort, good sir!” Milla attempts to de-escalate. The old man falls silent, watching her with nothing short of pure loathing. “We were contacted about a budding young mind who was very interested in coming to our Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp! She’ll be able to explore her powers in a safe environment with other talented children! As a fellow psychic, I’m sure you underst-”

“Is this true?!” Zalto directs the question at the little girl, who has pressed completely against her mother’s side. Something ugly prickles at the back of Oleander’s skull. “Are your dear Nonna’s lessons not good enough for you, Guillelmina? Do you think she is going too easy on your ‘budding young mind’?”

“Now wait just a Sam Hill second,” the army man tries to argue, because the kid looks like she’s going to fold in on herself like an origami crane and the prickling is getting worse. Zalto doesn’t even look at him.

“Quel il ragazzaccio ti ha messo in testa queste idee assurde?”

There’s a newfound level of vitriol that hadn’t seemed possible from the old man until this latest sentence was uttered. Neither agent understands Italian, but neither of them miss how pale and panicked the girl has become. Milla twitches suddenly in an almost-flinch, but Oleander can’t pay her much heed with how he’s trying to keep separate the roaring of this patriarch and the roaring inside his own head.

The girl finally speaks for the first time in front of them all. Every word is trembling. “N-No, Nonno, this has nothing to do with -”

“This was my decision.”

Everyone turns to Adelasia in surprise; even Zanobi, who’d been doing his best to creep out of the living room without being noticed. She wavers under the stares, particularly Zalto’s, but holds her ground.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. Mina could use the socialization at the very least, and a change of scenery and pace would also be good for her. She wasn’t even aware of this until I brought it up to her last night. None of the family was aware.”

There’s weight to that statement, a context that the two agents don’t have but recognize as significant regardless. Zalto’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

It’s said so softly, so unobtrusively. It makes every single muscle in Oleander’s body stiffen like frozen meat. This man is gangly, and average-sized, and is so decrepit he could probably be blown away by a gust of wind. And yet the tone of his voice, the way he commands all attention and submission, pulls at memories that the agent would rather stay buried.

This man reminds him of his father.

Adelasia very nearly loses her nerve right then and there, but then her eyes land on Zanobi, who looks at her with a strange new respect, and it’s enough.

“It doesn’t matter if you forbid it, Zalto. I am Guillelmina’s legal guardian, I’ve already signed the paperwork, I’ve already paid the fees, and transportation has been provided. She’s going to that camp.”

An eternity passes in the span of half a minute as mother and great-grandfather square off in a battle of wills. But no matter what wordless communication is passing between them - and there is quite a bit of it, judging by the way Adelasia’s brows pinch and her lips tremble - he is unable to make her back down.

Finally Zalto concedes, stepping to the side so that Guillelmina can pass unharmed and unbothered to the side of the Psychonauts. She does so with great reluctance, and despite the fact that they’ve ‘won’ so to speak, Oleander knows a hollow victory when he sees one.

Whatever family fallout this will cause, it will be devastating.

“Well, Mina, is it? Let’s head out to the car. We have a long drive ahead of us and I’m sure you’d like to get to camp sooner rather than later!”

Milla ushers the shell-shocked child towards the door before anyone can change their mind on the whole endeavor. Her partner starts to follow, and only pauses because he has to make sure he heard it correctly.

“Thank you.”

Hands twitching at his sides, Oleander gives Adelasia a long, grim look. She doesn’t know that she’s thrown her child into the fire, into his fire, but something tells him she would take that risk even if she knew.

“Ma’am,” he says to her with a tilt of his head. He can’t even look at Zalto.

“Sir.”

Milla is waiting patiently for him right outside the doorstep. They acknowledge each other and Mina, now between them, before heading for the army man’s jeep.

They stop as they realize the girl is no longer walking with them. She’s stopped completely about a foot behind them, looking at the car as though it’s a mirage.

“Darling? Are you coming?”

She nods once but doesn’t move. The agents share a glance; they’ve been doing that an awful lot in the past ten minutes, and it would be funny if not so concerning.

Guillelmina turns to look up at the house. She stares at the second story window, partially covered by curtains but otherwise open and seemingly unoccupied. Whatever she sees there - or doesn’t see - it’s enough to make her turn back to face the jeep again.

A glowing orange hand appears in front of her, startling the Psychonauts almost as much as it does the girl. It hovers a moment as if unsure before pressing against the car’s back door and pulling at the handle. Tugging the door open, the telekinetic hand waits patiently for her to enter, almost like a chauffeur.

“What a lovely display!” Mina praises. “Look at how far you’ve come already all on your own! You’re a natural, darling!”

Mina starts crying.

It lasts only a moment before she’s wiping her face on her sleeve and holding her head up high, but it doesn’t escape notice by either Psychonaut.

“Mina? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” the girl says in a cracked voice. She climbs up the jeep and settles herself into the backseat, watching as the TK hand closes the door gently behind her. It presses palm-up against the window and she returns the gesture with her own physical hand, a thin barrier of glass all that separates them.

The orange glow dissipates, and no evidence is left of the encounter.

Oleander and his partner are quiet as they get into the front and buckle up, but they can’t help staring into the rearview mirror at this odd little child, who has curled up with her suitcase at her side and the Whispering Rock pamphlet held between her hands like a lifeline. And perhaps it is a lifeline, just not in the way the two agents are assuming. Oleander starts the jeep and they head off.

It’s the middle of the day, and the house is still very, very dark.

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@the-family-fortune​ and I spent a long night talking about Thicker Than Water and some of the implications of how it might have changed if Raz hadn’t tried to run at the end. It inspired me to write this monstrosity. I have more ideas so there may be a part 2 someday, but for now have a fic of a totally normal child leaving a totally normal family to go to a totally normal camp :)

[crypterion-moon]

Tiamat: Rise in Shadow p.1

Summary: His name used to be Tim, once Robin, then Red Robin, then everything just turned Red. Now he’s a shadow of the young man he used to be, not even a shadow. A monster with the face of Timothy Drake Jackson that loved to sleep with strangers and kill when it suited him.

But his time is coming and he must make his choices or be swallowed up by the past, not even his newfound family can save him from that.

Tags: Vampires, a bit of angst, supernatural

A/N: This chapter was written and not corrected, so apologies for the amateurish writing and typos but AO3 already has this so no point in trying to change anything now

Movement beside him, the bed suddenly bereft of a presence shifted Tiamareshka awake. Far too early for his taste. He cracked open one lazy eye and saw the light seeping through. He promptly shut it again. Any point in the day was too early for Tiamareshka , he had never claimed to be a morning person. Unluckily, the person next to him was and work was very important for humans in this society. The sounds of pants, shirts being pulled on, belt buckles being done and a clear thud of the hone on the dresser reached his ears, it felt refreshing to hear such domestic sounds. To not work and earn your living is a failure in the eyes of your mother and father, to not contribute to society is to be a burden. Nothing to do with Tiamareshka  though, he planned to laze around in the stranger's bed for while longer. At least until night falls again. He rolled over on his side, his arms curled up at his chest and facing the wall, he muttered something unintelligible, which comes out in a soft groan. The bed dipped again, this time Tiamareshka  could feel lips trailing and kissing their way down his body, from his curled shoulder along each rib, the blanket that covered the lower half of his body was lifted as the man planted a few soft, lingering pecks on his hip.

“Morning beautiful.”

Tiamareshka  let out a soft moan, just to tease, “Mmmm, don't you have work today?”

“I wish I didn't.”

Tiamareshka  smirked, his body curled up slightly more, raising his hips slightly higher for some more kisses which his partner for the night happily obliged, his hands stroking along his legs and slipping in between Tiamareshka 's pale thighs.

“Will I see you again sometime?”

Tiamareshka  hummed with approval, “Same place after dark.”

“Okay,” the man grinned nibbling playfully at Tiamareshka 's ear, “I'll see you soon.”

Tiamareshka  listened to the rustling of clothes, and the closet. He heard the man leave the room and pick up his keys for the bowl in the hallway, and the door clicked shut.

He thought about letting himself turn a bit, just some black smoke so he could return without having to physically get up and walk, his body ached deliciously though. Last night was fun and satisfying in one go, though the man was far too tender for his comfort. The idea was that it would just be a once off, non-committal thing where the two of them could have fun but it seemed more like this guy was looking for something more but wasn't aware of it. Tiamareshka  wriggled about under the covers and took in the scent that clung to the bedsheets, the scent of another human was so addictive. Such a sweet man but rather desperate and lonely, it would be a shame to kill him, even by accident.

The smell and presence of humans, was almost too much in the small space that was this seedy club, and Tiamareshka  loved it. He could taste the energy flowing and permeating the air. His hunting place, his one stop for a bit of fun and food.

The hip-hop trance mix that pulsed around the club was a bit on the obnoxious side but not totally intolerable, the laser light that swirled around the floor was quite irritating so he'd settled himself on the other end of the place where a warm light filled the bar and lounge area still in view of the dancefloor. If it wasn't such a popular place with good choices, he wouldn't even bother coming here.

Sitting at the bar, Tiamareshka  glanced over each face, searching for an acceptable companion for the night. As his eyes scoured over each face, they would sometimes meet with another and often, they would stare and blush. Unable to tear their eyes away, Tiamareshka  could send them the most devilish look and they'd quickly hide or look away in embarrassment. He'd know when they looked back at him when they thought he'd turned his gaze. People were so easily tempted even when he wasn't trying. Look in their direction in a certain way and it's hook, line and sinker.

It was so much fun fooling around with them, especially the dumb ones but only a few were worthwhile.

And tonight, the pretty lady in with the shiny jacket should make a nice meal.

Turns out she was quite well off, her apartment was well decorated and nothing displayed seemed to be on the fake or cheap side. A few glances around and it was apparent that she was actually a finance worker of a company, and not a very honest one at that, but at that moment, Tiamareshka  really couldn't care less.

She was healthy, energetic and indeed very full of life...as well as herself. Stupid woman, vain and overestimating, her body screamed for attention, for men to worship her because she deserved it. She'd put down and humiliated a lot of people for her own gain. Tiamareshka  had avoid looking any further or he'd be turned off by such a rotten soul. For now, he was hungry. 

One wild night proved fun though it left the woman almost completely drained but he always made sure not to let that happen, Tiamareshka  was careful about that. The consequences weren't pretty.

What he wasn't prepared for was the woman talking and making noises in her sleep, which irritated Tiamareshka  from sleeping that he had to leave the apartment complex. He slipped out through the window, leathery wings unfurling and soared noiselessly up towards the sky. Tendrils of black wispy smoke slithered out from beneath his skin and around his body, solidifying and materializing as clothing, conveniently. He smirked and he continued to soar over the city before settling on one of the buildings that had a nice domed tower to it, perfect for a resting place. It was annoying having to leave so soon. At least it was a beautiful moon night.

His breath ghosted in the chill air which blew softly across his skin as Tiamareshka  laid down on the metal. He stared up at the and watched the city moving and breathing angrily down below, Gotham was always such a miserable place. The embodiment of filth, probably no better than the city of Sodom though that may be exaggerating. It had a protector after all. He wasn't sure if it was the city that made Batman that grim icon or the other way around. Perhaps it was that vicious cycle. Tiamareshka  could remember the way Bruce moved, silent and imposing, promptly followed by a young boy in yellow, green and red, laughing at the world. With no pants.

Tiamareshka  smiled wryly. Thinking of Batman and Robin brought back so many memories, the good and bad, they both made his heart ache, what's left of it any way.

He turned over and tucked his wing against himself. He'll sleep them away, just for a little while before he moves on.

There's blood on his hands, on his face, in his mouth. Red all around him, pooling at his feet. But he isn't looking, it's his hands he can't tear his eyes away from. Tiamareshka 's hand, didn't look like a human's anymore. The fingers were long and protruding from them were long black claws and they were all red, saturated in warm liquid. It comforted him and horrified him at the same time, like coming out of a high. Not his blood, he looked up. Across from him were corpses, the dead, cooling bodies of his friends, the league and Dick?! Bruce!! Damian...oh god oh god, who did this? He looked around  and saw no one, no one else but him and...Jason.

But the man wasn't wearing a mad deranged smile like he remembered once, it was a look of horror and pure fear. His hands were clean.

Why was Jason looking at him like that?

Suddenly, the Red Hood turned away and walked, Tiamareshka  tried to get up and follow but he was stuck, unable to move. He called out to Jason.

“You monster.” 

Tiamareshka  woke up to the cool air rapidly warming as the sun rose up over the cityline. Damn, he didn't think he'd sleep the whole night away, it was dawn and he wasn't prepared to take on the full glare of the sun. He was lucky he didn't run into the bat, or the bird for that matter. That would be beyond awkward. He slinked away under the cover of the sun's shadow. He settled down again in his favourite spot, fatigue taking over again. He cursed internally at that damn dream, it always deprived him of rest no matter how long he tried to sleep. He suspected the longer he was in it, the worse it would make him feel and right now, he felt like he hadn't slept in three days. It reminded him so much of his sleepless vigilante days it was almost funny, almost.

“Tiamat.”

A voice whispered to him where he hid, sheltered from the sights of passers-by, high behind the golems of Gotham. Tiamareshka  stirred from his curled sleep, listening to the multitudes of voices hissing and sighing inaudibly in the background. The space before him twisted and warped with dark energy. Then a figure stepped out from the swirling mass and onto the stone. Greeting Tiamareshka  with a wide, crooked smile.

“Petrakar.” The boy responded with a half giggle, his coal black, tight suit rippled with his body. 

“Still fooling around? I know you were overly serious before but this takes the cake.”

Tiamareshka  snorted with contempt, he almost wished he'd ignored the sly bastard but he wasn't bothered with moving. Instead he let his tail answer for him, swatting at Petrakar with an impatient flick. Of course, it did nothing since he was only a mirage and it passed through his wispy form like it was just smoke, distorting Petrakar's image only briefly before it settled back in place.

“Someone's moody today.”

“Did you call just to annoy me?”

Petrakar sat down beside a curled up Tiamareshka  and reached over, brushing stray strands of hair from his face. As much of an illusion as it was, the boy still felt very real and right there, though his touch felt more like breaths than anything physical.

“You've been seeking out human comfort frequently as of late, have the nightmares returned?”

“...They have always been there, sometimes they're not as bad but then they get louder, clearer, like I'm living it all over again. It happened again last night, when I left early.”

Petrakar said nothing for a long time, the sound of their breaths drowned out in the city's hum. Tiamareshka  considered sleeping right here while he could feel Petrakar's presence. He could ask him to stay for a while while he rested but seeing as he wasn't truly here in the flesh, no doubt he was occupied. It pained Tiamareshka  to acknowledge how much he needed contact, companionship to chase those damn nightmares away. He felt weak and helpless against himself, he could feel that part of him mocking at him for such dependency, letting it slowly eat him away.

It was all his fault of course, your fault your failure murderer murderer demon monster, Jason can't even look at you now, not even Alfred.

Tiamareshka  gasped in shock, clutching at his breast in pain. Petrakar still at his side reacted accordingly prying Tiamareshka 's fingers from his chest and holding them.

“Stop, don't let it get to you again. Come on, Tiamareshka , stay with me.”

Can't here, can't see, only the thing inside trying to claw it's way back out, take over again. Your fault their fault unwanted, they abandoned you, it's only natural to make them pay, make you pay, watch the world burn, let's do it.

Look what they did to you.

“Look at me!”

Tiamareshka  was gasping for air, suddenly seeing Petrakar again. He wasn't aware of the tears in his eyes. All that act, all those disgusting nights with endless streams of face, voices, praises but he wasn't beautiful. He was damned. Trying to claw his way out of hell.

Petrakar looked at him with eyes that mirrored his, his suffering, Tiamareshka 's own pain, they all had suffered, had to so they could be together this way, but he, she told him he wasn't ready yet. When?

Petrakar leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his lips, breathing for a minute, “Something is coming your way, Tiamareshka , and it's nearly your time.”

Tiamareshka  sat up legs bent behind him as he searched for meaning behind those words, Petrakar's rust colored eyes gave nothing away, “I don't understand.”

“Thing's are going to change.” 

Tiamareshka  dipped his gaze, completely losing the mask and being that confused, over-analyzing boy he once was, serious and curious all at once. Robin, not Robin. Petrakar smiled a little sad smile and began to fade from sight, his ghost hands still caressing Tiamareshka 's face, “I hope for the better,” Tiamareshka  said.

“We all do.” 

[crypterion-moon]

Tiamat: Rise in Shadow

“Something so broken can never be fixed, it can only become soomething else”

Tim Drake is dead, and in the ashes of the boy that was once Robin, Red Robin and a Wayne, a new entity arises. Tiamareshka, Inferno of God, Dark Angel of Death among the Hyeshath, the dark, shadowy people that walk through worlds in search of the guilty, the vulnerable and the dying. It feels like an eternity since he came to be but the nightmares of a dead boy still haunt him and his sympathy for man wanes.

But a change is coming, a new world puts him in with the heroes again, and Jason, the last Bat left finally catches up.

A/N: Dark, Angst, Gore, Explicit, Supernatural Element, Witchcraft, Swearing, Slow burn, Multiple crossovers

Movement beside him, the bed suddenly bereft of a presence shifted Tim awake. Far too early for his taste. He cracked open one lazy eye and saw the light seeping through. He promptly shut it again. Any point in the day was too early for Tim, he had never claimed to be a morning person. Unluckily, the person next to him was and work was very important for humans in this society. The sounds of pants, shirts being pulled on, belt buckles being done and a clear thud of the hone on the dresser reached his ears, it felt refreshing to hear such domestic sounds. To not work and earn your living is a failure in the eyes of your mother and father, to not contribute to society is to be a burden. Nothing to do with Tim though, he planned to laze around in the stranger's bed for while longer. At least until night falls again. He rolled over on his side, his arms curled up at his chest and facing the wall, he muttered something unintelligible, which comes out in a soft groan. The bed dipped again, this time Tim could feel lips trailing and kissing their way down his body, from his curled shoulder along each rib, the blanket that covered the lower half of his body was lifted as the man planted a few soft, lingering pecks on his hip.

“Morning beautiful.”

Tim let out a soft moan, just to tease, “Mmmm, don't you have work today?”

“I wish I didn't.”

Tim smirked, his body curled up slightly more, raising his hips slightly higher for some more kisses which his partner for the night happily obliged, his hands stroking along his legs and slipping in between Tim's pale thighs.

“Will I see you again sometime?”

Tim hummed with approval, “Same place after dark.”

“Okay,” the man grinned nibbling playfully at Tim's ear, “I'll see you soon.”

Tim listened to the rustling of clothes, and the closet. He heard the man leave the room and pick up his keys for the bowl in the hallway, and the door clicked shut. He thought about letting himself turn a bit, just some black smoke so he could return without having to physically get up and walk, his body ached deliciously though. Last night was fun and satisfying in one go, though the man was far too tender for his comfort. The idea was that it would just be a once off, non-committal thing where the two of them could have fun but it seemed more like this guy was looking for something more but wasn't aware of it. Tim wriggled about under the covers and took in the scent that clung to the bedsheets, the scent of another human was so addictive. Such a sweet man but rather desperate and lonely, it would be a shame to kill him, even by accident.

The smell and presence of humans, was almost too much in the small space that was this seedy club, and Tim loved it. He could taste the energy flowing and permeating the air. His hunting place, his one stop for a bit of fun and food. The hip-hop trance mix that pulsed around the club was a bit on the obnoxious side but not totally intolerable, the laser light that swirled around the floor was quite irritating so he'd settled himself on the other end of the place where a warm light filled the bar and lounge area still in view of the dancefloor. If it wasn't such a popular place with good choices, he wouldn't even bother coming here. Sitting at the bar, Tim glanced over each face, searching for an acceptable companion for the night. As his eyes scoured over each face, they would sometimes meet with another and often, they would stare and blush. Unable to tear their eyes away, Tim could send them the most devilish look and they'd quickly hide or look away in embarrassment. He'd know when they looked back at him when they thought he'd turned his gaze. People were so easily tempted even when he wasn't trying. Look in their direction in a certain way and it's hook, line and sinker. It was so much fun fooling around with them, especially the dumb ones but only a few were worthwhile. And tonight, the pretty lady in with the shiny jacket should make a nice meal.

Turns out she was quite well off, her apartment was well decorated and nothing displayed seemed to be on the fake or cheap side. A few glances around and it was apparent that she was actually a finance worker of a company, and not a very honest one at that, but at that moment, Tim really couldn't care less. She was healthy, energetic and indeed very full of life...as well as herself. Stupid woman, vain and overestimating, her body screamed for attention, for men to worship her because she deserved it. She'd put down and humiliated a lot of people for her own gain. Tim had avoid looking any further or he'd be turned off by such a rotten soul. For now, he was hungry. One wild night proved fun though it left the woman almost completely drained but he always made sure not to let that happen, Tim was careful about that. The consequences weren't pretty. What he wasn't prepared for was the woman talking and making noises in her sleep, which irritated Tim from sleeping that he had to leave the apartment complex. He slipped out through the window, leathery wings unfurling and soared noiselessly up towards the sky. Tendrils of black wispy smoke slithered out from beneath his skin and around his body, solidifying and materializing as clothing, conveniently. He smirked and he continued to soar over the city before settling on one of the buildings that had a nice domed tower to it, perfect for a resting place. It was annoying having to leave so soon. At least it was a beautiful moon night. His breath ghosted in the chill air which blew softly across his skin as Tim laid down on the metal. He stared up at the and watched the city moving and breathing angrily down below, Gotham was always such a miserable place. The embodiment of filth, probably no better than the city of Sodom though that may be exaggerating. It had a protector after all. He wasn't sure if it was the city that made Batman that grim icon or the other way around. Perhaps it was that vicious cycle. Tim could remember the way Bruce moved, silent and imposing, promptly followed by a young boy in yellow, green and red, laughing at the world. With no pants. Tim smiled wryly. Thinking of Batman and Robin brought back so many memories, the good and bad, they both made his heart ache, what's left of it any way. He turned over and tucked his wing against himself. He'll sleep them away, just for a little while before he moves on.

There's blood on his hands, on his face, in his mouth. Red all around him, pooling at his feet. But he isn't looking, it's his hands he can't tear his eyes away from. Tim's hand, didn't look like a human's any more. The fingers were long and protruding from them were long black claws and they were all red, saturated in warm liquid. It comforted him and horrified him at the same time, like coming out of a high. Not his blood, he looked up. Across from him were corpses, the dead, cooling bodies of his friends, the league and Dick?! Bruce!! Damian...oh god oh god, who did this? He looked around  and saw no one, no one else but him and...Jason. But the man wasn't wearing a mad deranged smile like he remembered once, it was a look of horror and pure fear. His hands were clean. Why was Jason looking at him like that? Suddenly, the Red Hood turned away and walked, Tim tried to get up and follow but he was stuck, unable to move. He called out to Jason.

“You monster.”

Tim woke up to the cool air rapidly warming as the sun rose up over the cityline. Damn, he didn't think he'd sleep the whole night away, it was dawn and he wasn't prepared to take on the full glare of the sun. He was lucky he didn't run into the bat, or the bird for that matter. That would be beyond awkward. He slinked away under the cover of the sun's shadow. He settled down again in his favourite spot, fatigue taking over again. He cursed internally at that damn dream, it always deprived him of rest no matter how long he tried to sleep. He suspected the longer he was in it, the worse it would make him feel and right now, he felt like he hadn't slept in three days. It reminded him so much of his sleepless vigilante days it was almost funny, almost.

“Tiamat.”

A voice whispered to him where he hid, sheltered from the sights of passers-by, high behind the golems of Gotham. Tim stirred from his curled sleep, listening to the multitudes of voices hissing and sighing inaudibly in the background. The space before him twisted and warped with dark energy. Then a figure stepped out from the swirling mass and onto the stone. Greeting Tim with a wide, crooked smile.

“Peter.” The boy responded with a half giggle, his coal black, tight suit rippled with his body.

“Still fooling around? I know you were overly serious before but this takes the cake.”

Tim snorted with contempt, he almost wished he'd ignored the sly bastard but he wasn't bothered with moving. Instead he let his tail answer for him, swatting at Peter with an impatient flick. Of course, it did nothing since he was only a mirage and it passed through his wispy form like it was just smoke, distorting Peter's image only briefly before it settled back in place.

“Someone's moody today.”

“Did you call just to annoy me?”

Peter sat down beside a curled up Tim and reached over, brushing stray strands of hair from his face. As much of an illusion as it was, the boy still felt very real and right there, though his touch felt more like breaths than anything physical.

“You've been seeking out human comfort frequently as of late, have the nightmares returned?”

“...They have always been there, sometimes they're not as bad but then they get louder, clearer, like I'm living it all over again. It happened again last night, when I left early.”

Peter said nothing for a long time, the sound of their breaths drowned out in the city's hum. Tim considered sleeping right here while he could feel Peter's presence. He could ask him to stay for a while while he rested but seeing as he wasn't truly here in the flesh, no doubt he was occupied. It pained Tim to acknowledge how much he needed contact, companionship to chase those damn nightmares away. He felt weak and helpless against himself, he could feel that part of him mocking at him for such dependency, letting it slowly eat him away. It was all his fault of course, your fault your failure murderer murderer demon monster, Jason can't even look at you now, not even Alfred. Tim gasped in shock, clutching at his breast in pain. Peter still at his side reacted accordingly prying Tim's fingers from his chest and holding them.

“Stop, don't let it get to you again. Come on, Tim, stay with me.” Can't here, can't see, only the thing inside trying to claw it's way back out, take over again. Your fault their fault unwanted, they abandoned you, it's only natural to make them pay, make you pay, watch the world burn, let's do it.

Look what they did to you.

“Look at me!”

Tim was gasping for air, suddenly seeing Peter again. He wasn't aware of the tears in his eyes. All that act, all those disgusting nights with endless streams of face, voices, praises but he wasn't beautiful. He was damned. Trying to claw his way out of hell.

Peter looked at him with eyes that mirrored his, his suffering, Tim's own pain, they all had suffered, had to so they could be together this way, but he, she told him he wasn't ready yet. When?

Peter leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his lips, breathing for a minute, “Something is coming your way, Tim, and it's nearly your time.”

Tim sat up legs bent behind him as he searched for meaning behind those words, Peter's rust coloured eyes gave nothing away, “I don't understand.”

“Thing's are going to change.”

Tim dipped his gaze, completely losing the mask and being that confused, over-analysing boy he once was, serious and curious all at once. Robin, not Robin. Peter smiled a little sad smile and began to fade from sight, his ghost hands still caressing Tim's face, “I hope for the better,” Tim said.

“We all do.”

Tim's head was ringing, and it was damn annoying as well as slightly painful. It took a whole lot of effort and will to just open his eyes with his whole body screaming at him for the abuse. Not the first time, he told himself, had worse happen to him on Batman's watch. And then he realized there was a possibility he wasn't alone. His eyes shot open and he lifted his head enough to give the surrounding area a quick scan around before dropping back to the ground, face first of course. He felt as if he got kicked in the head by a horse, which was a close enough comparison given how hard he was hit. Fortunately it seemed like the Blight Hounds didn't seem to make it through or were dropped off elsewhere, hopefully somewhere far away, like a different dimension. He was about to seduce and kill a young man who would later become a gang leader as he'd been told by Oriviane, one of the oracles. Though it had nothing to do with Tim or the wraiths what his destiny would have been, his name was listed. He would die sooner or later. It would have just been another night of ending someone's life with pleasure until they were suddenly ambushed by those damned monsters. Ambushes weren't all that unusual though it served to be a pain in the ass having to kill his targets before they ran off. Tim was always prepared for these moments and it wouldn't have been a problem if his psyche as well as his powers didn't decide to fluctuate right at that moment. It earned him a swat to the face from one of their malformed paws, and they were strong, if not smart.

“Damn, I hope they didn't scratch me,” Tim grunted, as his fingers came away wet with blood.

He glanced at his surroundings, a thick but not unruly gathering of trees blocked much of Tim's field of vision like a forest, preventing him from seeing too much farther, but he could hear a the low drone of activity, human activity just beyond the edge of the spot where he stood. Tim followed the sounds, noting how oddly neat these trees were spaced almost as if...he reached the end to find wide open spaces filled with people either picnicking, strolling or playing, and beyond that was a city. Its buildings jutting up unpleasantly over the foliage. His portal navigation had landed him in the middle of a park in god knows where, again. In fairness, it was a stressful moment, trying to open up a door while fending of mutant mutts and no doubt, they must've been scattered over other realms. He really needed to get the hang of this before it sent him into somewhere much more unpleasant.

Strangely, as he kept passing through the thick growth of trees he could hear the sounds of civilization cars and voices, not too far away and as it turned out, he’d reached the edge of what turned out to be a reserved patch of forest. Now he was staring from under the shade, normal civilians passing by going about their business. At least he was sure he wasn’t on some god-forsaken hell. He was about to move forward when a sudden explosion erupted about fifty meters away. He flinched back into the cover and watched intently. Through the throngs of screaming people, a figure emerged from the wreckage, large and imposing and an awfully familiar at that. It was Bane. Still duped up on Venom.

“Come out you spineless cowards, come out and face Bane!”

Good lord he was obnoxious as ever. Watching him thrash about like a child throwing a tantrum was almost comical. He took out a substantial chunk of the cement ground throwing it about, thankfully most of the crowds had retreated but he was posing a serious threat to bystanders. For now, it seemed that the only damage he was intent on doing was to the surrounding inanimate objects, smashing to be exact, unimpressive really. Then the drugged up criminal fixes his gaze on some unfortunate man on his way to work. Tim grinned. Perfect, he had some stress to work off. Just when he had taken a step out, suddenly Bane was ambushed. Teenagers sporting colourful sets of powers and abilities. One of them, a green skinned boy morphed into a bull charging Bane relentlessly and recklessly. A young blond woman with a bow joined in, notching and releasing arrows effortlessly with near perfect aim. The flashy one dashed in to deliver a series of, flimsy punches. When it comes to Bane, nothing short of a strong punch will affect him, but somehow, Tim could feel that was merely to add to the distraction, just as predictable in his technique as always, no matter what version of him was out there. Smart but predictable. Now he could never understand why Bruce found him challenging Tim stopped, his gaze snapping aside. Something bigger was coming his way.

As soon as the thought passed, a large black and blue jean mass came flying in, crashing into Bane with a loud thump and crack that definitely was the sound of a few broken bones. The villain was sent flying back from the impact while the recent addition to the fray watched with a triumphant expression, back straight, floating in the air with the symbol on his chest on display. A Super. The sight of the S brought memories, slamming back into Tim.

“Hey Broody.”

Kon smiling as he hovered over him making terrible jokes about his height, his personality being not as colourful as his costume. Fighting together with their teammates against extraterrestrial terrorists.

“You know he doesn’t mean that.”

Kon comforting him over his arguments and fights with Bruce and Jason. Hearing Kon’s voice beg him to come home again and again until he couldn’t hear him any more. And when he finally opened his eyes, he was holding Kon’s head in his bloody hands. Tim doubled over gagging, holding himself steady grasping a thorny vine that grew along the trunk of the tree, his hand so tight around it the thorns pierced skin and blood ran down his palm and the vine.

“Damn it, not now, keep it together...” he fought to keep the memories suppressed. Just then a giant crash spooked him out of the lapse and he looked up in time to see a huge Gorilla in a stupid hat flattening down everything In its way, with a machine gun to match. Following behind were what looked like a few hired goons, of course, why not. Bane always made sure to be stocked up on henchmen and backup. This was however turning into a bit of a joke and Tim was getting bored of watching.

“Robin!” A slight figure leaped out of nowhere at the command, unleashing a whole arsenal of batarangs and smoke pellets. The flying pieces of metal successfully took down a portion of the goons while the pellets burst, enveloping the area in thick smoke. No one can see through it accept for Superboy but they had definitely planned this enough not to require visibility. Tim’s suspicions were confirmed when the green shapeshifter charged right into the smoke, audibly knocking out more of the hired guns, both Robin and the archer jointly disabled the remaining men caught in the smoke. Bane could be heard roaring over the commotion, Gorilla sniffed and grunted. Suddenly, Superboy and a girl with a familiar symbol dived in, tackling the two. The team’s hard hitters best suited for tanks like Bane and the Gorilla. Tim guessed they must be this world’s Teen Titans, which meant he had to be careful who he came in contact with. After a whole load of punching and kicking, the two villains were finally down, disappointingly enough, how boring. They began discussing something together possibly about whatever mission they were on while the blond with the lasso and the speedster began tying everyone up. Just then the  farthest man lying just a meter of where Tim was hiding got up and started sprinting off into the woods. Tim watched the man as he made his escape into the darkness, soon noticed to be by the teens, his lips stretched into a sinister grin. He sat back on his haunches, preparing for the chase.

“Let the hunt begin.”

“We have a runner,” Nightwing sounded slightly fed up, his tone coloured with annoyance as he watched the last of Bane’s hired gun run of to the woods. No one could blame him, since it’s been a long day and no doubt, going to be a long night for him in Bludhaven, the wicked never sleep. So the team started off after him as the heavy hands came to take the criminals away for locking up. Kid Flash was definitely the fastest but not the brightest, and in an environment like a forest, odds were that he’d trip up or spend the whole day searching high and low for the man, so it was a good thing he wasn’t here or he’d run off not knowing where he was going or running into. Beast Boy had the right idea though, as a hound, he had the escaper’s scent. So they followed him into the thick growth. Finding him was actually harder than they thought, he had no tracker so all they could really rely upon was Superboy’s senses and Beast Boy’s ability to track as an animal, even then Connor couldn’t see past all the trees with his vision and Garfield lost his scent a few times.

“He must be in the deepest part of the forest by now,” Artemis said.

“Keep searching, if he’s going back to base this could mean finding the ones responsible for the meta-trafficking,” Nightwing ordered.

“He could be headed towards the docks, it’s the quickest and closest way out,” Robin said, it made sense and Nightwing agreed, it was the only other place that anyone could find a way to get off the island. As they got nearer to the docks, Superboy stopped all of a sudden, his teammates stopped as well.

“Superboy, what’s wrong, is-” Wondergirl began to say when he shushed her, his ears picking up whimpers and sobs and some frantic words that were to muffled for him to hear properly. But he could tell which direction.

“Over there,” he said, facing in the direction of the sound just off to the side to where the docks were, .

They followed Conner to what looked like the deepest part of the forest when he faltered and bent over looking shaken.

“What’s wrong,” Nightwing asked, checking him over with concern.

“Someone screamed and it wasn’t any scream, I mean a real scream,” Connor looked up and around, panicked, “I can’t hear him anymore.”

With this disturbing reveal, Nightwing and Robin both took off in that direction, with the others following after Superboy had recovered. Beast Boy was in the lead again, with the scent strong this time and they ventured on before Garfield started yelping, then, the smell hit them hard, the smell of blood and urine.

“Oh my god,” Artemis let out a hoarse whisper.

Everyone stopped, their mouths hanging open in shock. The corpse lying before them was definitely their runner, but he wasn’t going to be answering questions or going anywhere but the morgue. His limbs stuck out at odd angles like he was flailing about so much they were arranged haphazardly, his uniform was ripped open and so was his throat. The chest area bore several gashes. Right arm ripped off and legs punctured. He looked like he’d been mauled by a savage animal except, no animal can make such clean cuts as the ones on his chest, the claws must have been thin, needle like. His mouth hung agape with terror and he must have been scared enough to wet himself with the darkened patch on his pants mixing with the blood that was now seeping in, staining the grey a darker shade.

“Wha- who could have done this?!” Cassie gasped. Nightwing took a tentative step forward, he’d seen bad things in Gotham but never something like this here. Something had made it’s way on the island. He looked back to see Robin had also followed his movement but he seemed to be on the verge of getting sick, he was too young to witness something like this. Nightwing didn’t want to baby him. Working as Robin alongside Batman meant being in the middle of things like this but still...he glanced back at the body. This was too horrible.

“You guys, go back to HQ, call Batman, tell him we’ve got an issue, possibly something worse than the crisis at hand,” he ordered the rest of the team, “Robin, look at me, I know it’s going to be hard but go back with them, take the rest of the day off.”

“But I-.”

“Listen to me, Tim, I’m not putting you off missions because I think you’re not up for it, but I’ve had something like this happen before and it isn’t something you can just shake off, take it from a guy who tried winging it,” Dick gave him a wry smile, “Go home you earned it.”

“Can’t I just stay at HQ, keep me in the loop?”

Both Nightwing and Robin looked at the tattered remains, “I don’t think it’s exactly safe there right now.”

A/N: I’m mostly caught up on Ao3 if you want to read the rest without waiting for me to post it up on tumblr it’s here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/13341468/chapters/30542415