Chapter Text
The Gotham skyline blurred into a haze of shadowed spires and cold light as they ran, the icy wind cutting through the night like a blade. Tim was a step behind, each breath sharp and uneven, the dull ache in his ribs flaring into searing pain with every jolt of movement. Scarecrow’s ambush from the night before had left its mark, but he pushed the pain aside.
This was his fault.
If he had taken down Magascar last week, as he was ordered to, they wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t be tearing through Gotham’s labyrinth of rooftops in the dead of night, chasing another deadline set by a madman. Magascar’s threats were clear: pay him by midnight, or half the city goes up in flames.
No wonder Batman and the others were pissed.
“Keep up, Red Robin,” Batman ordered curtly, not sparing him a glance.
“Yes, sir,” Tim replied tightly, forcing himself to quicken his pace.
Behind him, Damian’s smug voice broke the tension. “Tctt Pathetic.”
Tim ignored him, his focus on keeping his movements smooth.
“Knock it off, Damian,” Dick interjected, though his tone lacked any real bite. He was distracted, scanning the rooftops for their target.
“Oh, please,” Damian continued, his lip curling. “He needs to go back to the batcave… he’s an embarrassment.”
The words stung more than Tim wanted to admit. But before he could even think of a retort, Jason loomed in his path,“Whoopsie.” Jason slammed his shoulder into Tim as he passed, the hit jarring against his injury enough to make him stumble.
“Jason,” Batman snapped. “Stop playing around. Eyes forward.”
Jason shrugged. “Just keeping Tim Tim on his toes.”
The team closed in on the derelict warehouse, their footsteps muffled by the damp, rotting wood. Magascar stood in the center of the room, his figure haloed by a faint, eerie glow. He was draped in tattered robes, his hands moving in slow, deliberate patterns that etched glowing runes into the air. Around his neck a glowing green crystal.
“Ah, the Bats,” he drawled, his voice a silken taunt. “I was wondering when you’d catch up. I hope you brought something more interesting than just fists and gadgets.”
“Your magic won’t save you,” Batman said coldly, stepping forward. His cape shifted, and the dim light caught the sharp edges of his cowl. “Surrender, Magascar.”
Magascar tilted his head, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Surrender? Oh, no, Batman. I’ve only just begun.”
The runes around him flared to life, bathing the room in a sickly green light. The ground beneath their feet cracked and groaned as jagged constructs of stone and shadow clawed their way up from the floor.
“Here we go,” Jason muttered, cocking his gun.
“Spread out!” Batman barked.
The team moved into action. Dick darted left, his escrima sticks sparking with electricity as he launched himself at one of the constructs. Damian flipped over another, his sword a blur as it slashed through the writhing shadows. Jason, ever the brawler, opened fire, his bullets tearing into the nearest stone monstrosity.
Tim grappled to higher ground, his movements precise despite the ache in his ribs. From his perch, he hurled starbangs, aiming for the glowing cores within the constructs. They shattered on impact, sending chunks of rock and shadow collapsing to the ground.
“Good try, little bird,” Magascar sneered, his eyes locking onto Tim. With a flick of his wrist, a pulse of green energy shot toward him.
Tim barely had time to react. The blast caught the edge of his perch, throwing him off balance. He grappled to the ground, landing hard but rolling to his feet.
“You’re getting predictable,” Magascar said, his tone mocking. “This is why you’ll never win.”
“Maybe you should stop talking and find out,” Dick shot back, launching himself at Magascar. His escrima sticks crackled as they struck a protective barrier around the mage. The shockwave sent Dick stumbling back, and Magascar laughed.
“You really think your little toys can harm me?” Magascar taunted, raising his hands. The constructs around him surged forward, moving with terrifying speed.
Jason tackled one head-on, his twin pistols blazing, but the stone beast swatted him aside like a ragdoll. He crashed into a wall, groaning as he pushed himself back to his feet.
Damian darted through the chaos, his blade finding weak points in the constructs, but there were too many.
Tim moved in from the side, using his staff to parry a strike from one of the creatures. Pain flared in his ribs, but he didn’t let it slow him down.
“You’re out of your depth, Red Robin,” Magascar jeered, his hands weaving a new spell. A column of flame erupted from the ground, forcing Tim to leap back.
“Tim, fall back!” Batman ordered.
“I’m fine!” Tim shouted, gritting his teeth as he dodged another strike.
But Magascar’s grin widened. “Let’s test that, shall we?” He thrust his hands forward, and a wave of concussive energy blasted through the room.
The force sent Tim flying, his back slamming into a steel beam. He crumpled to the ground, dazed.
“Red Robin, you’re out!” Batman’s voice cut through the internal coms. “You are benched!”
“No!” Tim pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “I can still—”
“You’re getting in the way!” Batman snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. “Go home. Now.”
Tim froze, his chest tightening, “Yes, sir,” he muttered, his voice hollow.
The remaining Bats pressed on, driving Magascar deeper into the warehouse.
“You think you’ve won?” Magascar said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
The glowing runes around him grew brighter, pulsing in time with his words. The constructs multiplied, filling the space, their forms shifting into grotesque, nightmarish shapes.
“Robin, flank left. RedHood, cover Nightwing,” Batman ordered, his voice steady even as the odds turned against them.
The team fought with everything they had, but the constructs were relentless. For every one they destroyed, two more rose in its place.
“This isn’t working,” Dick called out, ducking a swipe from a shadowy claw. “We need to regroup!”
“No retreat,” Batman growled, hurling a barrage of explosive batarangs at Magascar. They detonated on impact, but the mage’s barrier still held strong.
Magascar raised his arms, and the runes surged one last time. The ground cracked open, and a swirling vortex of energy erupted in the centre of the room.
“Now you see,” Magascar said, his voice triumphant. “This is the end for you.”
The vortex began to pull everything toward it. The Bats struggled to hold their ground, but the force was too strong.
And then, out of nowhere, a familiar grapple line snapped into view.
Tim swung into the chaos, his body colliding with Magascar in a reckless, desperate move. The impact disrupted the mage’s concentration, and the constructs faltered.
“RedRobin!” Dick shouted, panic lacing his voice.
Tim hit the ground hard but forced himself up, coughing as he tried to steady himself. “You didn’t think I’d just leave, did you?” he said, his voice strained but defiant. In his hand a glowing green medallion.
“Red Robin, get out of here!” Batman barked.
But Magascar recovered quickly, his hands surging with power. “You’ll regret that, little bird,” he snarled.
A bolt of energy shot toward Tim, striking him square in the chest. The force sent him flying, and he landed near the vortex, the pull of its energy tugging at him.
“No!” Dick’s voice broke as he tried to reach him, but the constructs rose again, cutting him off.
Tim’s eyes met Bruce’s. He smiled a soft sad smile.
“Tim, don’t—”
Tom smashed the green medallion against the ground, the vortex surged, and before anyone could stop him, Tim was pulled into its swirling depths. His body vanished in a flash of light, leaving only silence in his wake.
The constructs dissolved, the magic faded, and the vortex collapsed. But the Bats stood frozen, their faces etched with horror.
Bruce stared at the spot where Tim had been, his fists clenched so tightly they trembled.
“Tim…”
o|o
Tim woke slowly, his body stiff and heavy. Putrid water seeped into his suit, and he realised with a grimace that he was lying in a stagnant puddle. Blinking through the haze of pain and exhaustion, he staggered to his feet.
The alley was quiet. Too quiet.
Tim spun around, searching for signs of the others, but the only thing greeting him was empty streets and the distant hum of a city. He pressed his comm, but nothing. Just static. His tracker blinked uselessly on his wrist, every piece of tech he’d counted on fried beyond repair.
“Typical,” he muttered bitterly, dragging a hand down his face.
He started walking, his footsteps echoing in the empty alley. His body ached with every step, but it was a familiar kind of pain. Gotham was no stranger to bruises, and neither was he.
But the further he went, the more unease settled over him. At first, it was small things—a streetlamp flickering in a spot he didn’t recognise, graffiti he didn’t remember. Then it was entire blocks of architecture that felt wrong. He tried to ignore it, chalking it up to exhaustion, but then he reached the edge of the city and found the Kane Memorial Bridge… gone…
He froze.
“What the hell?” His voice barely broke the silence as he stared at the empty expanse of water where the bridge should’ve been. It was impossible. The bridge had always been there. Always.
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore Tonto,” he murmured, the words shaky as they left his lips.
Tim’s stomach twisted. His hands clenched at his sides as the realisation began to creep in, sharp and undeniable.
“Fuck,” he whispered, closing his eyes and taking a slow, shuddering breath.
He turned back toward the city, trudging through unfamiliar streets. He needed to get somewhere safe, find a lead, anything to explain—
A heavy thud behind him made him whip around.
“Who the fuck are you?” The voice was sharp, venomous, and achingly familiar.
Tim’s breath hitched as Red Hood stepped into the light, his red helmet gleaming like blood under the streetlamp. Jason’s posture was tense, hand hovering near his holstered weapon.
“Wearing that suit?” Jason continued, his tone low and dangerous. “It doesn’t belong to you.”
Tim took an instinctive step back, his hands flying up defensively before he remembered himself. He dropped them quickly, squaring his shoulders.
“I asked you a question, scum,” Jason snapped, closing the distance between them. His voice was sharper now, more hostile. “What the fuck are you doing in that suit? It’s not yours. You have no right.”
The words cut deep, sharper than Tim expected. He felt the sting of them settle under his skin, too close to the doubts he already carried. But his own frustration flared, shoving the hurt aside.
“Just leave me alone, Jason,” Tim snapped, his voice tight, raw. He hated the tremor in it, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Jason froze mid-step.
“What did you just—” Jason’s voice faltered, and he straightened, tilting his head slightly.
“Tim?” he said, quieter this time. The venom was gone, replaced by something shaky, uncertain.