Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny fell on his couch, kicking his feet up, arms behind his head. "Finally, That's the last moving box put away. Now Jazz can stop nagging me about it every week. Sorry that I wanted to enjoy my first few weeks without any ghosts! No Skulker, no Technus, no Huntress, just me, this dingy apartment, and the sound of gunshots to lull me to sleep." His brow furrows. "...Okay, that part isn't so different. But they're just regular guns, so at least its new."

Danny takes a nice, deep breath, relaxes, and closes his eyes. "Yep, nothing could possibly go wrong from here."

Knock Knock!

"Why do I never learn..." Danny groans, getting up from the singing siren song of his couch. He trudges his way to the door, and invisibly pokes his head through the door to see who it is.

He clicks open the multiple locks on the door, some preexisting, some new, and some shiny with an all too familiar F branded in to them, and opens up. "Daryl?"

Daryl's a big guy. Scars on his arms, missing a tooth or two, and muscles bigger than Danny's head. He also welcomed Danny in the apartment, gave him a Gotham 'Welcome Basket,' including a knife, a map to the nearest survival gear store, a list of 'essentials, Recommendeds, and Luxuries for Rouge Attacks,' a few canned goods, and two Britta filters. "The first one wont be enough," he said, and Danny had been inclined to believe him. "Bottled is better, but these'll do in a pinch."

Dad helped Danny set up the Fenton Water Distillery the next week. "It can also do Ecto-Filtration, and even works as a coffee maker!"

Still, Danny appreciated it. Daryl was a good guy, and a great neighbor. Seeing him withouth that cautious smile on his face whenever they talked felt all sorts of wrong. "Is something wrong? Whats up dude?"

His massive form only seemed to shrink up more at the comment. "That obvious, huh?" Daryl sighed. "I'm lookin for a babysitter again. Next Tuesday."

"Oh, that all? Course I can, big guy, lemme just put it on my phone callender..." Danny pulled it up, pretty much empty every day, but as he goes to next Tuesday there's already a note. "...You sure you mean Tuesday? I thought you invited me to help with... Dont tell me, Sharon?"

"Chelsea"

"Cheryll's birthday? Yknow, you were gonna pretend to forget, walk out the door, I'd sneak the cake and presents in with my Secret Special Moves... Ringing any bells?"

Daryl just looked more and more sullen as Danny talked. "I didnt forget, Danny, even if I still dont get how you do that. Worse than The Bat, I swear..." he shakes his head. "Nah, I got called in to work. Big day, boss needs all hands on deck."

"What?! Dude, you put in for that time off before I even moved in! Do you have, like, HR to complain to or something?"

"Well..." Daryl scratches at his neck awkwardly. "We have a union, but they dont wanna do anything about it. Head of the union left recently, and without him its kinda fallin' apart."

"That sucks, dude. I can't believe they wont stand up for you just because of some management issues..." Danny starts thinking. "Yknow what? I got an idea. Go back to your apartment, I'll be there in an hour." Danny grabs his phone from his pocket, an old flip phone that Daryl had to rub his eyes looking at to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Danny pulled out the antenna, and speed-dialed someone. "...Hey, Sam. Yeah, its Danny. What do you know about unions and workers rights?"

Danny made a shoo-ing motion with his hand, before shutting the door. Daryl stood there dumbly for a moment, and decided it'd be for the best just to head back to his place. Dinner wont make itself, and the girls were probably getting hungry.

☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆

"Excuse me, are you one..." A paper rustles, "Mr. The Riddler?"

Edward had long since gotten used to being snuck up on, but to see someone in a button down and with a clipboard was a new one. "That would be me, yes. And who might this new puzzle in front of me be?"

The boy shrugged. His appearance had Nygma thinking he was young, but how young remained to be seen. Black hair, shining blue eyes, and even ganglier than Crane was. "I'm here on behalf of the union."

The sounds of assembly and work dulled, and several heads turned. "Its not break time, get back to work!" Ed called, and the sounds of equipment and hauling resumed, mostly. "Lets talk about this somewhere with less prying eyes, shall we?"

"I was going to suggest that myself. Lead the way."

The two entered an office in the building Ed had... 'aquired' for this current job, the suited figure in green sitting down behind a desk.

"Mr. The Riddler, I heard that you've denied all requests for time off next Tuesday. I presume for some big job, is that true?"

Edward thinks for a moment. "I dont see the issue with that"

"There is none, sir. You're completely allowed to deny requested time off. I just wanted to make sure."

"Then yes," the crime boss noted, "I have."

...Damn abandoned buildings. He got the lights working, but the lack of heat was very noticable. The Riddler rubbed his shoulders a bit to keep warm.

"Must be a big day coming up. Scheme day?"

"A few day before, actually. Have to make sure every puzzle is just right, and in working order."

Things were always dark in Gotham, but this room in particular, it was getting hard to see the boy in front of him. Edward tries to turn the desk light on, but gets nothing. The shadows loom down the boy, almost like... Nygma shakes his head. He's getting paranoid, the Bat hadn't found him yet, it was much too early for that.

"I see. Did you also ask everyone with already approved time to come in?"

"I did."

Something was wrong. The Riddler's eyes scanned the room, searching what felt like the growing dark corners of the room for signs of life. For signs of him.

All he found was the boy.

"Did you ask? Or did you tell?"

"I'm sorry, can we postpone this little farce?" The Riddler stood up, cane in his hands, "Theres something I need to-"

"Sit," something behind him hissed, and Edward froze. A pressure from all sides, threatening to crush him, a force trying to push him back.

Nygma sits down.

The boy shakes his head, hair falling in a way that shadow covers his face. "You made a deal, Edward Nygma. You made a promise to those under you, and you broke it."

When the boy stood up, it was not to his height. No, Nygma could hear the crack of his knees, farther out to each side than they had any right to be, as he stood to nearly the height of the room. But where Nygma may have expected glaring white eyes that demanded justice, a briliant, sickly green glowed instead, gazing down at him. They illuminated his... illuminated that thing's face, revealing its snarl.

"You will fix this, oathbreaker."

The voice had rang through the room, no discernable source, but he didnt have time to think about that as the figure leaned over, face just inches from his, and the glow from those piercing eyes showed him a smile. Dozens of jagged teeth, just moments away from his neck, locked in a disturbing grin. "Do you understand?" it asked, the brief glimpse inside its mouth revealing only more and more rows of threat and mailce

"Y-Yes, Please, I get it! I'll-"

The desk light clicks on.

The boy jots something down on his clipboard. "Thats great to hear, Mr. The Riddler. I'm glad you understand."

The room was lit up, the shadows chased away. Whatever that thing was, it had just... vanished. Ed put a hand to his chest, trying to calm his breathing.

"...Mr. The Riddler? Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." The echos of a smile were on the boy's face, blue eyes dancing with mischeif.

"How," Riddler half choked, "How did you do that?"

The boy raised an eyebrow. "I was in the highschool debate team. It was just a bit of negotiation. Mr. The Riddler, are you sure you're alright? Thats all I really had to talk about, I can give you some space..."

"Was it stilts? Prostetics? Clayface, is that you just pranking me?! What--"

"Sir, I'm going to leave now. Thank you for helping me clear up the vacation days issue. If you'll excuse me, I'm sure you have paperwork to fill out for that."

"Are there microphones?! Mirrors?! When did you set it up?!"

"Edward, buddy. You're not doing well. Maybe you shoulda spent a few more days in Arkham. You keep your promises, and I'll keep mine, okay?" And with a wink, he left.

The Riddler just sat there, dazed.

"What the fu-"

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Tim sipped his coffee, going through his Wayne Industries e-mail. A big shareholders meeting was in a few weeks, and he needed to make sure everything was ready well ahead of time.

...It would be a lot easier if Dick wasn't sitting across from him, face twisted as he tried not to laugh.

"...Dick."

"Nice- Snrk- Nice haircut."

Tim stopped typing. Sighed. Closed his laptop. "Why thank you Dick, Cobblepot gave it to me. Say, was someone gonna tell me that his cigarette shoots lasers now? Or was this always gonna be a trial-by-fire thing."

"Oh, it does? Thats new." Dick was still grinning.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Not any kind of laser I've seen before. It didnt really burn, felt more like an airsoft pistol. Wish I got my hands on it, but he got away."

A more serious look crossed Dick's face. "New weapons seller, of stuff we havent seen before. B's gonna love this."

"Not just a new seller. New org." He pauses. "Well, new's a strong word."

"Oh? Whatcha find Timberly?"

Pulling out a second laptop from under the table (and pointedly ignoring the strange look he got for it), Tim opens it up and spins it Dick's way. "Remember the Red Hood's side project?"

Dick's flinch was subtle, but Tim still caught it. "He's not involved anymore," Tim placates. "Remember that weird movement he started? The worker's rights for career criminals?"

The eldest Robin relaxed a little. "Oh, right. I forgot about that. What about it?"

"Some of Penguin's men had the weird logo on their jackets. The balaclava inside the gear."

Dick scrolled through the document Tim put in front of him. "And looks here like our fine feathered friend's got it on his holder."

Tim nodded. "There was another logo on the other side, a stylized F, but I couldnt get a clean view of it."

Dick shut the laptop. "Looks like we got a Union to bust."

"Shouldnt be hard for you. Thats an average Tuesday for the boys in blue."

"Says the CEO."

"...touché."

In the end, it had been surprisingly easy to find someone who knew something.They'd been a bit skeptical, since the big leather jacket with the Union Logo didnt seem to fit the guy. Maybe Tim should have listened to his instincts anyways, though

"Kidnapped and tied to a chair, huh?" He snarked, "Coulda at least bought me dinner first."

Between the scruffy black hair and the mischeif filled eyes, Tim could feel this wasnt gonna go well.

"Oh, we got a funny guy, do we?"

"Not as funny as your barber. Or your seamstress, though at least she knows how to pull an outfit together."

Tim's eyes narrowed. "Who's your supplier."

"My... supplier? I mean, W.B. Mason has a lot of the-"

"You're testing my patience," Tim growls, "And thats not a test you wanna fail."

The goon snorts. "Won't make the world stop spinning, so cant be that bad."

Tim paused a fraction second. Everything to that point had been snarky banter, but that line felt... he shakes his head. Not important. "Alright, wise guy. Do you recognize this symbol?" He held up a drawing of the unfamiliar logo he saw on Penguin's holder.

"The... letter F? Gonna need to be more specific pal."

A bo staff quickly found its way inches from The guy's head. "Last warning, punk."

Instead of any sense of fear, any signs of snapping, he seemed to squint his eyes in confusion. "Wait a sec... Are you one of The Bats?"

Tim had to sit there for multiple seconds with that one. "I. Yes. Yes I am."

"Ohhh, okay. Sorry didnt wanna assume which faction you're from, bright colors mean nothing here. Haven't learned the R rule yet, I'm new to the area. Thought you might have worked for a mafia we arent associated with." Guy paused for a second, considering. "Well, you do, but-"

"We have no association with The Red Hood."

"Okay...? You want a cookie for that?"

...Tim couldnt help but think of Alfred's cookies.

"Anyways, I'm sure you have a lot of questions about the Henchman's Union, so ask away."

"Alright. Who's your weapons supplier?"

The goon raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Very creative. You want that list alphabetically, chronologically, or by import location?"

"...Import location."

"No."

"You said-"

"I said I'd tell you about the union, not its inner workings. You havent even asked my name."

"Whats your name?"

"So, you work for The Batman?"

"God dammit."

The guy cracked a smile. "Come on dude, gimme something to work with here. You work for the The Batman, right?"

"...Something like that. Also, I can hear you capitalizing the, 'The,' stop doing that."

"Ah, right, sorry, new here." He seemed... genuinely apologetic? "So its just the Batman?"

"Batman is both a noun and a name. The the is optional."

"Noted! What does he pay you."

Tim blinked. "what."

"You heard me. What does he pay you?"

"You arent gonna buy me off-"

"Oh, no, nothing like that." The guy held his hands up placatingly. "I'm just trying to give you some context for my next bit."

"Hn..." Tim thinks. Does it really matter if he says something? Shouldnt give anything identity wise away...

"Talking about wages is a protected labor right yknow. No need to be shy."

"Yknow how they say crime doesnt pay? Well, technically, being a vigilante is a crime..."

"He doesn't pay you."

"Not in the traditional sense. He provides us room and board, a top tier dining service, any kind of insurance we could ask for..."

"With all the injuries you sustain, that kind of sounds like the bare minimum."

"I understand how you could see it that way, but its alright. I get a lot of money from my other job anyways."

"You work two jobs?"

Tim quickly quiets up. Got a bit too comfortable there. Is there something in the air, something this guy is doing to make him-

"I understand, you have a level of confidentiality to keep. Secret Identities are a big part of the vigilante thing. Is that some kind of NDA, or...?"

"No. Sometimes things happen, Batman gets that, its just highly encouraged for safety reasons."

"Oh yeah, I get that. On the topic of safety, what kind of equipment does he give you to help with that?"

"All of our suits are top of the line, with elements of bullet proofing and other armor. Cant give away trade secrets though."

"I wouldnt expect you to... what about the face?"

"Hm?"

The goon sized him up. "Well, I know if I was gonna hit or shoot someone, the head or face is one of the places I would aim first. So... where's your headgear?"

"My normal one got blasted by a laser just a bit ago, but I have a cowel normally."

"First off, continuing work without proper PPE is a big no no. Second... A cowel? Seriously? Ever thought to wear some real protection? A few layers of fabric wont save you from a crowbar, or a grapple gun malfunction."

"Theyre a special material-"

"That clearly is much too close to your skin, if your hair is any indication, and has no room to crumple. It might stop cuts and resist puncture, but theres only so much it'll do for blunt trauma, even if its made of good stuff."

"Hn." Suddenly he understood Bruce's response to most of his siblings.

"How old were you when you started?"

"I dont have to answer that."

"Well they didnt call you Boy Wonder for no reason."

"Thats Robin. I'm Red Robin."

"Oh, sorry, my bad."

"...where are you going with all this?"

"With the two jobs you are working, have you been finding time to get enough sleep? To actually see the doctors your healthcare provides you?"

"Coffee is basically the same thing as sleep, and I see Dr. Thompkins when I need to."

He squinted critically. "Need to? So only when something is seriously wrong? What about a regular physical?"

"Okay, whats going on here. I thought you were here to talk about how we deal with the... what do you call yourselves?"

"The First Universal Henchman's Union of Gotham. Yes, I've heard we should be called The Goonion, I'm working on it. Maybe. Seems a little reductive..."

"To the point," Tim ground out.

"Just one more question. Have you ever worked for anyone other than Batman, or been self employed, in the Vigilante business?"

"...yes."

"Well, Red Robin, according to our official policy document, last updated January 4th, 20XX, A goon is described as a freelance lackey or grunt of a career criminal, who does not have a consistent place or persons of employment. Typical jobs for goons can include, but are not limited to: physical labor, combat, research and development, yada yada yada... You said earlier that Vigilantism is a crime, right?"

"Fuck off."

"Here's my card." The guy reaches over, and hands him a business card. "If you have any questions, or want to know more, we have plenty of people who would be glad to speak with you, or anyone you think would like to join. Would you like extra cards to share?"

"...y'know what? Yeah, sure. Why not?"

He hands over some more. "Great! You can find our handboook at the website on the card. Its been good talking to you, I've been waiting for this, have a nice day." He takes a short bow, and walks away.

Tim just stands there, dumbfounded for a moment. Did he... just get a recruitment speech?

He looked at the card.

FIRST UNIVERSAL HENCHMAN'S UNION

Danny - Steward

Facere Malum Stercore Tuto

+1(800)999-9999 | www.HenchmanStrong.com

Well, that was something he supposed.

Wait, wasnt he tied up? When did he get out of that? Where did he go?!

...Man, Dick's gonna make fun of him for this.