Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gotham, three months later. 

Five years ago

Bruce stared at the screen of the Batcomputer, jaw set with barely perceptible frustration.

Seven masked faces stared back.

Two weeks ago, a video had circulated on select corners of the dark web, before making itself known in a wider capacity and eventually being found by the Justice League. Tim had already known about it, which was infinitely concerning, but, well, Tim. It was all Bruce could do to try and keep him away from this. 

The organization had made a series of ridiculous demands in private messages in the form of videos sent to individuals or small groups. The nonsensical nature of the demands, and the sentiments expressed by the seven figures known to be synonymous with the organization - figures who, as far as Bruce knew, were ghosts - had characterized them as an anarchist group. This video seemed to be on a larger scale than the rest. 

Squinting his eyes as if it would afford him further clues, Bruce pulled up the video and pressed play. 

- - - 

The video began with a black screen. Chillingly, two glowing eyes lit up in the darkness, diamond shaped lenses shining lime green. Across from them, two more hot pink ones lit up. With increasing frequency, a glowing silver and golden-bronze pair flickered to life on the outskirts of the screen. On the inner right side, a mismatched pair of white and black lenses switched on, followed by black lenses speckled with white spots. Finally, in the center of the image, a dark ocean blue glow emerged. As the light in the room rose, seven figures were visible around a table, wearing matching but individually decorated full-face masks.

The slender figure in the center of the image steepled his hands in front of himself and looked directly at the camera. He was wearing a long-sleeved black dress shirt and a vest in dark, muted patterns. His gloves ensured that not an inch of his skin was uncovered. His tie matched the now-dull lenses of his otherwise blank, black mask. The room behind him was incredibly sparse, with no windows and positively zero identifying features. 

The wearers of the spotted and mismatched black and white lenses were seated at his right and left, respectively. The white spots looked like stars against a night sky, an image further exacerbated by the explosion of colour decorating the rest of his mask, as if he were some kind of aurora. He wore a black motorcycle jacket with colourful accents and fingerless gloves with brass knuckles. He sat with much more character in his posture, cracking his fingers. The man across from him sported a black and white mask with domino patterns on it, and a similarly patterned cropped jacket. He had a plain tablet in front of him, and was tapping a digital pencil against the table, his head cocked. 

The woman next to him had bright pink and black clothing, covered in spikes and asymetrical patches of glitter. Her mask was similarly decorated. Her spray-painted pink combat boots were kicked up on the table. There was a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire leaned on her shoulder. Across from her, the lime-green lenses were really the only visible aspects of the slender figure clad in all black who nearly faded into the shadows. She sat so still it was easy to forget she was there. 

Beside her, a man in a dark green mask with accents that looked like jade-green crystals sported silver lenses and a similarly green jacket with silver spikes. Escrima sticks were sticking up from behind him, and he was leaning back in his chair. Across from him was a very steampunk looking man with tons of gears, feathers, and patches with various decals all over his clothes. He had a strange, crossbow looking sniper invention slung across his back, and his bronze-gold colour scheme was offset with russet and cobalt blue accents. He was leaning forward, fiddling with tiny pieces of metal. He didn’t appear to even be slightly bothered by the camera. 

The modulated voice of the central figure crackled to life. 

“Hello, world.”

He reached for a small notebook next to him on the table.

“Call me a conspiracist- or, well, call me Conspiracy, really - but the government is ly-ing to usss.”

The last three words came across in an incredibly distorted sing-song. Conspiracy flipped open his notebook and tapped at it with a pencil. 

“The Justice League is allowed free reign to do whatever they want, we are being extorted by private corporations, and the cops are fucking corrupted. There’s no one to trust, nowhere to turn.”

“The world’s in ruins .” Giggled the pink-clad figure, putting a strange emphasis on the word.

“Ruin, hush!” hissed the white-and-black figure next to her. Ruin made a noise that almost sounded like a dramatic sigh.

“C’mon, Domino, that was funny! Right Shade?”

The shadowy figure tilted her head to the side. 

“See! Shade agrees with me.”

“Enough! And not a word from you either, Malachite,” snapped the colourful figure. The green figure at the end of the table held his hands up in a gesture of indignant surrender. 

“Seriously, Nova? Why are you on my ass? Harpy’s not even paying attention!”

The golden-bronze figure who must have been Harpy raised his head and was waved back down by the man across from him. 

Conspiracy snapped his fingers and the rest fell back into line. “Yes, the world isn’t doing too well. So! Nowhere to turn, no one to trust… where does that leave you?”

Harpy raised his hand as if to answer, and was swatted back down by Ruin. 

“Worry not, everyone. That leaves you with us. The Resistance is coming. In fact…”

One by one, the figures around the table stood up out of their chairs to pose behind their leader. 

“We’re already here.”

The lights switched off, and seven pairs of eyes were left shining out of the darkness. 

- - - 

Bruce minimized the video and pulled back up the files for the members of the Resistance. These people had issued a demand for money from Lex Luthor over two months ago, blackmailing him with information that no one in the Justice League had ever been privy to. Even still, with Luthor himself coming forward and explaining that he’d been extorted by the anarchist organization, the League still didn’t know what leverage they had over him. 

The fact that Luthor had given in, no tricks involved, paying a sum he refused to disclose in complete silence, was incredibly concerning. Even more concerning was that the exchange - untraceable cash, according to Luthor, handed over to Conspiracy and his left hand, a man introduced as Nova, who’d remained lockstep with his leader the entire meeting - occurred in Gotham. Luthor had been escorted to the meeting by Malachite, who’d stopped the car in the middle of the road, “encouraged” Luthor’s security to stay behind, and driven the vehicle the rest of the way to the meeting point near the docks. 

There had been a minor Arkham breakout that evening. Luthor had reported that a handful of Scarecrow’s men had tried to attack, and been picked off by a sniper crossbow, poisoned throwing stars, and some kind of spike bomb - all originating from the surrounding buildings, attackers completely unseen. 

Oracle had reported that the area had cameras, but those cameras were disabled and looped during the meeting, and she was unable to recover the footage. 

Based on the video, Bruce had speculated that the tech support was provided by Domino, the sniper was Harpy, the spike bomb was Ruin’s, and Shade was responsible for the stars. He had updated each of their files to include their roles in the organization: Conspiracy as the leader, Domino and Nova as his right and left hand (tech/strategy and muscle specifically), Malachite as muscle, Harpy as a sniper and tinkerer, Shade as the “secret weapon”, and Ruin as some kind of jack of all trades, or wild card. He added their known weapons as well, and set out trying to find the hospital/arrest/mortuary records of the subdued goons.

This was going to be a long night. 

- - - 

Roy glanced up as Jason reentered the apartment, letting the door swing shut behind him. His boyfriend kicked his boots off at the door, shrugging his jacket off as well and hanging it up. He was holding a bag filled with what was hopefully groceries. 

“Where’s Steph and Cass?” Roy asked, putting the remote back together and snapping it shut. It had been on the fritz for three weeks at this point, and he’d finally gotten around to fixing it. Hopefully that did the trick.

“Eh, went shopping. Something about ingredients for whatever concoctions are in Steph’s bombs and Cass’s creepy poisoned knives.” Jason dropped the grocery bag onto the kitchen table and started unpacking it. “The three stooges are also out, but I think they’re trying to manually tap into Oracle’s network or something ridiculous like that. Said you lent them the hardware they needed? By which I mean I’m pretty sure they just took your shit. Timmy said they’d pay you back but I don’t particularly advise taking him at his word.”

Jason slammed the fridge door shut and picked up the days-old newspaper sitting on the counter. “Hey, eight decapitated heads in a duffel bag. Hang on a sec, that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” asked Roy, standing up and making his way to the kitchen, leaning over Jason’s shoulder.

“Well these seven are the same as when I did this in our dimension, but that one is a different name.”

“So what, the eighth dead guy is a different person in this universe? Wild. You didn’t see this when Steph initially brought back this paper?”

“Nope, I see it now.” Jason shook his head. “I’m not particularly proud of the killing spree, I didn’t want to look. But see here, The Riddler kidnapped Bruce Wayne. D’you see that? Robin saved him. All by himself. Nightwing helped when this happened back home.”

“Isn’t the Riddler, like, tailor made to get his ass kicked by Tim? I’m betting he didn’t need Nightwing.” Roy tugged the newspaper out of his boyfriend’s hands and gave him a quick kiss before opening one of the cabinets to raid it for snacks.

“Yeah, but Bruce was even more of a helicopter parent than usual in Tim’s early Robin days, especially once I showed up.”

“Maybe he’s different in this universe, I guess.”

“Or maybe he’s distracted.”

Roy paused his rifling around in the kitchen cupboards to shoot Jason an inquisitive look. Jason sighed.

“In our universe, there was no Resistance. All B had to worry about was protecting Tim and stopping Hood. In this one… In this one he has to worry about us.”

Chapter Text

Jason stalked towards the warehouse, his henchpeople on his heels. They always freaked out whenever they were reminded how silently he could move, despite being approximately the size of a brick wall. Two weeks ago, someone had asked him, “damn boss, you sure you weren’t a Bat in another life?” and he’d barely managed to push the green down long enough to shoot the wall instead of their head. 

Needless to say, his people knew better than to bring up the Bats again. 

He hadn’t been back in Gotham long, but had started off with a bang (literally). That eyesore of a building that some gang had been using as a centerpoint of their drug ring was gone now, and the gang knew better than to fuck with the Alley again. 

His little stint with the duffel bag a week ago had paid off. Sure, he was now kinda on the Bats’ radar, (and Jason didn’t like to think about the way that made him feel seasick) but more importantly, Crime Alley had fallen more under his control. He’d pretty much seized the drug trade, and this ambush of Black Mask’s warehouse would solidify his hold. No more kids getting hooked on drugs, no more teens overdosing. Crime Alley was his, always had been, and Jason belonged here more than he ever had as Robin. 

Or at least that was what he told himself.

Tucking himself around a corner under the cover of darkness, the up-and-coming crime lord reviewed the plan in his head. 

Ambush Sionis, take out his men, have his own men destroy Black Mask’s supply, deal with Sionis himself. And then- once Jay was far enough away - blow the warehouse. 

Never let it be said that Jason Todd didn’t have a flair for the dramatic. 

As he knelt down to pick the lock on the door, the Red Hood jerked his head to the left, silently ordering his men to fan out and prepare for the ambush. The door swung open with a click, and they were in. 

Jason could see Sionis in the center of the floor, as he ducked behind a crate and clicked off the safety on his gun. He saw one of his people, Thea, clock one of Mask’s goons over the back of the head, catching them before they hit the floor and dragging them behind a stack of crates. None of their targets noticed, which he was actually very proud of Thea for. She was one of his more competent people. 

As Jason raised his weapon to take aim, there was a sizzling pop and a flash of light from above. Mask’s people drew their weapons, which Hood’s own men took as their cue to emerge from hiding and attack. As one of his grappled an enemy for his gun, a figure dropped out of the rafters, flailing in the air before hitting the ground in a roll, and Jason… froze. 

Because, despite the fact that his plan was ramping up, and he was aware that he had been noticed, he had not been ready to see Nightwing in the middle of his ambush. 

Well, there went the element of surprise. 

Clenching his fists as Nightwing sprung to his feet and looked around, disoriented, Jason tried to push down the green surrounding his vision. It worked, but barely. He punched the wall, trying to regain control of his emotions.

Black Mask and his goons turned towards the noise, and Sionis raised his own weapon. 

There was a loud sound - a gunshot - and a bullet flew towards Jason, aimed straight at his chest. 

Jason watched in almost slow motion as Nightwing registered the sound and threw himself forward, attempting to intercept the bullet. The blue-clad vigilante hit the floor, blood pooling around him. Jason’s brother Dick had just taken a bullet for him.

What the fuck ?

- - - 

The first thing Dick registered was the pain in his arm. The second thing was the surface he was lying on, slightly lumpy fabric like some kind of couch. The third thing that flashed through his head was the memory of what had happened right before he passed out.

Dick’s eyes flew open. He was in some shitty apartment, lying on an ugly green couch and staring at a suspiciously large stain on the ceiling. 

There was a gun pointed at him.

He froze, staring at the figure holding the weapon. A worn brown leather jacket, grey chest armour, and a very familiar red helmet. 

Dick’s voice was scratchy when he spoke, gently so as not to provoke his captor. “You okay?” he asked, trying to hide how shaken he felt seeing the figure in front of him. 

The distorted voice of the Red Hood sounded a bit taken off guard by the question. 

“Oh yeah, just peachy. How about you? You good? You did kinda get shot… course, Sionis wasn’t aiming at you. What the hell were you even doing there?” 

Dick sat up, slowly. “Oh, I didn’t actually mean to interrupt. I wasn’t particularly aiming for that warehouse, when I showed up. But I’m fine, little wing, don’t worry. Hey, what happened to Sionis anyway?”

Hood froze, even more still than he had been before. The hand not holding the gun tightened into a fist. The voice modulator crackled with emotion as Hood said, “what the fuck did you just call me?”

What had he called him? Something was off about this. Squinting at the crime lord’s chest, Dick realized what exactly had been bothering him since he woke up. Plain chest armor, no sign of the bat sigil that had been worn by the Red Hood for the past, like… five years… It was then that Nightwing realized just what he had said. 

Little wing.

His eyes blew wide as he threw his hands up and shouted, “Please don’t kill me, I'm from another dimension!”

Dick had read somewhere that when someone is having a breakdown, that if you say something confusing or unexpected enough, you can snap them out of it. It seemed to work now. 

Jason released the tension in his hand, tilted his head to the side almost inadvertently, and said, “I’m sorry, what the fuck?”

Chapter Text

“Please don’t kill me, I’m from another dimension!”

Well, that was certainly enough to shock the green out of his system. “I’m sorry,” Jason said, tilting his head in disbelief, “what the fuck?”

The vigilante in front of him - an alternate universe version of the vigilante Nightwing, if he was to be believed - lowered his hands slowly and said, “I’m from another dimension. Sorry to startle you. Wait- what year is it in this universe?”

“2019,” Jason said flatly, because - really, what else was there to say?

“2019? It’s 2024 back home. Oh, shit, you’re right in your prime murder era, huh? I picked a really bad time to interrupt you. Sorry.” Nightwing shifted uncomfortably, holding his injured arm.

“Tw… what the fuck,” said Jason, again, because he couldn’t think of anything else. 

Dick - alternate dimension Dick, from five years in the future- knew who he was and had just apologized for interrupting him in his “prime murder era”. Which. ???

Jason had been convinced that when he inevitably revealed himself to his family the Bats, they would never accept him for the killer he now was. Considering the death of his son Robin hadn’t been enough to get Bruce to kill the Joker, there must have been nothing that could justify killing in his eyes. And if losing him hadn’t been good enough for Dick either, how could him killing someone ever be forgivable?

Jason found himself suddenly, inexplicably jealous of the him from this stranger’s universe- a him who had obviously followed a similar path, if Red Hood was recognizable to Nightwing - but was still, somehow… accepted by his brother?

But the Nightwing in front of him was still Nightwing, and he still knew the true name of the Red Hood, and Hood was still pointing a gun at him. 

“This… reveal,” said Dick, soothingly, “happened to me five years ago. I’m not this universe’s Nightwing, he still doesn’t know who you are. And I… am not going to tell him. Or B. Or Oracle, or Ro- Tim , or Alfred, or anyone else. I’m not here for you, and I’m not here for them.”

Jason held his breath as the words sunk in. If - and that was if - the alternate could be trusted, his secret was safe. B, Dick, Batman’s new, mysterious, tech support - they still didn’t - still  wouldn’t - know who he was. He was safe. He was safe if he only trusted this man who wasn't his brother. 

“Well,” said Nightwing, amending his previous statement, “I am kind of here for you and Tim. But not, well, you, you, or this particular Tim.”

This was interesting. And important. Answers, answers are what matters right now. Why was he here, what did he want. And then Jason could decide whether to kill him if he was even capable of killing his brother at all . 

“Six- or maybe seven, but I fucking hope not- people from my universe vanished three months ago,” said the imposter, and Jason filed that tidbit away for future knowledge. “One of them is, actually, my universe’s you.”

“That’s why you took that bullet- you thought I was him.”

Dick ran his hand down his face, and took a deep breath. “Partially, yes. But even if I’d known you weren’t… there’s no universe where I’d just stand by and let my baby brother get shot.”

The words hit Jason like a bullet to the stomach, even as the man in front of him pledged to shield him from such pain. But he needed answers, and this conversation, difficult as it was, was necessary to achieve that end.

Taking a gamble, Jason clicked the safety back on his gun, and set it down. He reached up to his helmet, locating the release with his still-gloved fingers, and unlatched it, placing it next to the gun on the table. 

He was wearing a domino underneath, but there’s solvent for that, which he applied before peeling the mask off. He offered the bottle to Dick, who took it gently and removed his own mask as Jason tugged off his gloves. 

“I’m going to make some tea,” Jason said, and the man in front of him smiled. “You, are staying here, so we can continue to talk.”

- - - 

This had not ended up the way that Dick had expected it to. 

He had come here hoping to find his missing family, and instead ended up taking a bullet for the dimensional alternate of Jason’s angriest era. 

And the Jason in front of him was angry, there was no doubt about that. Dick knew better than to ask for a hug and smother the man in affection, emotional as he might be having seen his brother’s face for the first time in three months. 

The Jason in front of him also made excellent tea. 

His brother-from-another, well, dimension, had pulled a tin of cookies off the top of his fridge, and Dick had recognized them as one of his Jay’s favourite Alfred recipes. 

They were delicious. 

“So,” Jason started, hesitating, “another dimension? How… what… I mean, you know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah, like I said,” Dick responded, “some people- my family- went missing, in my dimension. They vanished during kind of a crisis three months ago, and a lot of people thought they were dead. But I think that they’re here.”

“And you’re not gonna tell anyone who I am, right?” Jason looked concerned by the possibility. “And they aren’t either?”

“They would have no reason to, I think. But they might be with Batman, I guess. If I got stranded in another dimension, I would probably go to B.”

“I haven’t heard anything. No new vigilantes running around, or duplicates. And there’s nothing in B’s files. He’s pretty preoccupied with this Resistance shit right now.”

“B’s files?” Dick flicked his eyes up from his mug. “When were you in B’s files? And sorry, Resistance?”

Jason looked up as well, making eye contact. “You guys didn’t have the Resistance?”

Dick wracked his brain. He’d never heard of any sort of Resistance, and told the other man as much. Jay looked pensive. 

“Well, I was actually in B’s files looking for information on them. A couple of guys who work for me used to work for Scarecrow, and time before last he escaped from Arkham, they saw those Resistance motherfuckers having some kind of meeting with Lex Luthor near the docks.”

“In Gotham?” Dick’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, in Gotham. Dunno what they wanted with Lex, but they’re this anarchist group that showed up for the first time basically at that meeting a few months ago. They’ve been making themselves known through whispered demands until they finally sent out an announcement video and got noticed by the Justice League.” Jason shrugged, reaching in beneath himself to pull a laptop out from underneath a couch cushion. He flipped it open and tapped at the keyboard, pulling up a video. 

- - - 

Jason watched Dick watch the video, talking to himself. His eyes widened as he took in the characters around the table, and then narrowed as Ruin was introduced. 

“No fucking way,” he muttered, confusingly, “Ruin? Seriously?” 

Jason heard Malachite’s voice ring out from the tinny speakers of his stolen computer. “Seriously, Nova? Why are you on my ass? Harpy’s not even paying attention!”

Dick’s jaw dropped. When the video ended, his eyes were blown wide. He rolled it back and zoomed in on the figure of Shade, staring intensely. When he finally blinked, his eyes stayed closed as he let out a ridiculously long breath. 

“Cass,” he breathed, which was infinitely confusing.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“What the fuck?” Dick replied, not paying attention. “Nova? Harpy ? Who came up with these names? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” His eyes snapped up to meet Jason’s.

“What did B’s files have on them?”

Jason snatched the computer and pulled up Batman’s files, not liking the way these pieces were fitting together in his head.

Dick’s eyes scanned the files, and then he closed the computer and placed it down, shell shocked. He tried to speak, but no words came out.

“Dickhead. Dude. Actually what is going on in that pile of mush you call a brain.”

“The people I’m looking for.” Dick answered, slowly. “Came to another dimension. And created an anarchist organization. With the stupidest fucking names I’ve ever heard!”

Before Jason could reply, the man continued, “And I’m 97% sure their leader is a civilian!”

“A civilian? Wait, hold on. The Resistance is from another dimension?”

Dick exhaled, shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts. 

“Why are they doing this?”

“What, creating an anarchist organization? Naming themselves in a way you seem to find personally offensive? Taunting the Justice League?”

Dick shook his head. “ Hiding .” 

At Jason’s inquisitive look, he elaborated. “They could go to the JL or to Batman and ask for help getting home, but instead they’ve integrated themselves into this dimension in something that feels almost like a misdirect. Why are they hiding?”

“Look, dude, I have no idea, but if family policy is to go incognito, you might want to jump on that train just in case.”

“You’re right,” Dick said, and tucked his mask into one of his pockets. “I need to find them, find out what’s going on. But if Batman couldn’t find them, how will I be able to?”

“Batman doesn’t know anything about them. Where would they go?”

“Gotham,” the older man said, taking a sip of his drink. “Or nearby, at least. And if they got money from Luthor- did your people say that he gave them cash?”

“He had a briefcase?” Jason offered, tentatively.

“Well, then they probably paid rent for some apartment in cash. Paid extra to make it discreet if they’re really hiding. But I can’t go around Gotham looking for them as Nightwing or Richie Wayne.”

“I’m not lending you one of my helmets,” Jason said flatly.

“No, but if we’re going outside the law, I have an old moniker that might work. Nightwing will recognize it, but I never told my universe’s B that I was Renegade, so very few people will be suspicious. I don’t exactly have time to make a new one, it took the others three months to get themselves set up with new identities.”

“Wait, you were Renegade? You, Mr. Golden Boy, did a stint as a merc.”

“Slade Wilson is an asshole, what can I say?”

“And you just, what, carry a spare Renegade uniform around with you?”

Jason dragged his eyes up and down Dick’s suit, which definitely did not have an entire other uniform hidden anywhere in it.

“No,” said Dick, smirking, “But I’m fairly certain that I know where the other me keeps his. Look, I have to go. Thanks for patching me up, and, y’know, not shooting me-” Dick drained the rest of his tea in one gulp, winking “-but I came here to find my family, and that’s what I’m going to do. I promise - promise - that I won’t tell any of this universe’s Bats who you are.”

Jason watched the man who wasn’t quite his brother slap his domino back on and slide open the apartment window. Against his best efforts, he believed him - and he didn’t want to fight. He pulled a spare burner phone out of a drawer and called one of his other numbers with it, hanging up once the call connected. He slipped the second phone into his pocket, and handed the other to Nightwing.

“If you need me - and I mean really need me, or if I need you for whatever reason… Well, it’s probably good for me to have an idea of how to contact you in case I have to deal with any more dimensional bullshit.”

Dick burst into a sunshine smile, and flung his arms around Jason for three seconds, before remembering himself and pulling back, apologetic. 

“If you need anything, little wing, I’d be honored to help.” 

Jason dusted himself off and grunted in a truly Bruce-worthy display of emotion. 

“So you’re just going to break into the other you’s apartment and steal his Renegade uniform, then run around in it looking for the Resistance?”

Dick stepped out the window onto the fire escape, offering a parting wave with his final words as he dropped out of sight. 

“It’s not breaking in if you know the codes!”

Chapter Text

Renegade. This universe had a Renegade. 

Back home, in Tim’s original universe, there had been a Renegade, but not for long. Tim knew for a fact that Batman didn’t know who was behind the mask, and he had only been active for a few months before promptly vanishing. Deathstroke’s “sidekick” had been relevant towards the end of Jason’s run as Robin, and, while Bruce had initiated an investigation during Renegade’s stint working for Lex Luthor; his identity had never been discovered, and Jason’s death had significantly overshadowed the case. 

Considering that he wasn’t operating back home, Tim had never learned much about him- but he always swore that Dick knew more than he was saying. 

One thing that was known for certain, however, was that Renegade definitely hadn’t been spotted in Gotham during Red Hood’s initial power grabs, and the fact that he was here now was definitely unique to this dimension. 

The other issue was that Deathstroke was nowhere to be found. There were whispers of him having taken a job in Poland, which meant that his former sidekick was operating independently, and Tim had no intel.

Tim hated having no intel. 

He should ask Bernard, was what he should do. Bernard was good at this shit. Naturally, half of his theories were completely fucking insane, but some of them were also scarily right , and something that was highly unlikely but also completely correct was definitely what they needed right now.

Tim popped his head up, yelling, “Hey, Casey!”. The alias wasn’t preferable to Bernard’s real name, but considering that the Agrex had been in the Watchtower systems back home, using their real names, even in private, carried a dangerous risk of discovery. 

Bernard stepped into the doorway of the bedroom, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What’s up, babe? Something explode?”

“Renegade,” stated Tim, tossing the file he was holding to fan out onto the floor, where Bernard could see it.

Bernard’s confusion deepened. “Renegade exploded?”

“No, no, Renegade’s what’s up. Deathstroke’s apprentice? He’s been spotted in Gotham. I have no idea why and I don’t know his secret identity. I need your eccentric theories to figure out what’s going on.”

The civilian’s (beautiful) lips twitched in amusement. “Dom, baby, I am starting to believe that you suspect me of having some strange conspiracy-based power where one of my bizarre theories always ends up being correct in a given situation. You keep using me as a… a temperature gauge. I’m not actually magic, you know that, right?”

“You’re brilliant, though,” Tim whined, “and I need your help. You’re the only fellow detective I have in this lonely place”. He gave an over-dramatic fake sniffle and looked up at Bernard piteously. The man in question rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine, fine, you weirdo, I’ll help you. Gimme just a sec to put Noah in charge of the kitchen.”

He dipped out of the room, presumably to give Kon very specific instructions that would hopefully not result in the apartment being burnt down.

Hours later, sprawled on the floor next to his boyfriends with papers scattered around amongst empty plates that used to hold lasagne, Tim had isolated one unlikely theory to explain the mercenary’s appearance. 

Renegade was looking for them.

- - - 

Renegade was still looking for them.

Perched on a rooftop in the twilight-dusk of Gotham’s early evening, Dick arched his torso back into a bridge and breathed. The Renegade uniform was bulkier than his Nightwing one, but still flexible. He wished it was easier to breathe in, but if he had to deal with one of the Bats, they would recognize his face in a domino. 

Besides, Jason might - maybe - be onto something about the whole, protect-yourself-from-getting-a-concussion, helmets-can-have-a-built-in-respirator thing. 

Not that Dick would ever tell him that. 

The Resistance was hard to find. Logically, Dick knew that trying to find Tim and Cass when they didn’t want to be found would be difficult. He was sure that they had covered their tracks well. On the other hand, Dick had the advantage of knowing them - an advantage they (hopefully) wouldn’t have taken precaution against, because they didn’t know anyone from their dimension was here. All Dick could do, really, was base his search off what he knew about them, and hope they hadn’t decided to add an additional layer of subterfuge. 

If they really were near Gotham - which, of course they were, they’d been spotted in Gotham meeting with Lex Luthor and the Bats in the group wouldn’t want to go far - then they would have to be using Luthor’s money to pay for their accommodations. This meant that either they had paid for an apartment in cash, or paid to make an abandoned place they’d decided to squat in livable. 

Dick stretched back into a standing position and flipped off the roof. For a few, glorious, seconds, he was in freefall. He never got tired of the feeling of flying, and even without the wind rushing past his face, it was still ecstasy. Before he could crash, his grapple grabbed onto the building across the street, and he landed perched next to the window of a closed public library. 

He magnetically unlatched the window and slipped inside, landing silently on the floor of the main building. He would normally never break into a library, but he would draw too much attention during the day, and he didn’t have a computer with him. He took a detour to disable the cameras before making his way to the computer terminal.

There were a number of buildings with empty apartments in Gotham and the surrounding areas, and Dick had uncovered a number of landlords committing money laundering schemes and tax fraud before he found a break in the pattern.

There was a 6-floor apartment building just outside the Bowery with two empty penthouse apartments. The landlord’s finances, however, told a different story. He hadn’t made a credit card transaction in anything except online purchases for three months. 

The building’s water and power records were similarly inconsistent - the amount of electricity and water used over the last few months could not be explained away by a place with two empty apartments.

Dick printed out its information and scrubbed the computer twice over. Switching it off, he pocketed the paper and exited the building the same way he’d entered.

Someone was hiding in those apartments. 

- - - 

Bernard was exhausted. He was exhausted, and he hadn’t even been part of the fight. Stealing what was essentially a sophisticated EMP from Star Labs’ NYC facility had been a bit of a trick, and he was fairly certain Steph had a twisted ankle. The two almost-silent hybrid cars that they had rented months ago pulled smoothly into the parking lot behind their apartments. The near dawn light was visible behind the trees that blocked off sightlines to the paved area from nearby streets. Rubbing his eyes blearily, Bernard was the last to notice a vaguely familiar orange-and-black figure slip out of a penthouse window and sneak down the fire escape. Renegade froze as he noticed his observers, with a stillness somewhat Bat-like in nature. Bernard could tell that Tim’s mind was spinning out beside him, but he still failed to notice Cass step towards the stranger before she was halfway to his side. 

The black-clad vigilante stepped onto her tiptoes and flung her arms around Renegade’s neck. 

For a strained two seconds, there was silence, and then… Renegade melted into the embrace, chuckling lightly.

“I should have known,” he said, laughing, and Bernard heard the rest of his party inhale in shock. 

The newcomer lifted his head to the rest of them. “It is you,” he breathed. Then, angrier, “What are you doing?!” his eyes snapped to Tim. “Did you seriously make your civilian boyfriend the head of a high-profile anarchist organization??!!!”

“ Figure -head,” Bernard corrected under his breath. Tim must have known what was going on more than he did, because he tilted his head to the side, and asked, “Dick?”

Renegade untangled his arm from Cass and pulled off his mask, to reveal someone who- yep, that appeared to be Dick Grayson. 

“Yeah?” he said, and Roy swore colourfully. Dick smirked. 

Bernard’s mind was spinning a mile a minute. He had no idea how Cass had known- well, he knew how she’d figured out it was Dick, but… was this the Dick from their dimension? Because if so, how did she know? And how did he get here? And what did he-

“What did I get you for your last birthday?” asked Jason, sounding broken. 

Dick furrowed his brow. “That romance novel about the princess and the solstice thingy, right?”

Jason and Tim threw themselves forward at their brother, leaving Steph to wobble before grabbing onto Roy’s arm for balance. Roy helped her forward to greet him as well. 

“How did you get here?” asked Tim, eyes wide.

Dick responded, saying, “You’ve been missing for three months! Wally and I have been trying to find you this entire time. We made this-” he pulled a contraption out of his pocket, holding it up “-to get me here and bring all of you back.”

“You invented dimensional travel?” asked Jason, skeptical.

“Dimensional travel’s already been invented,” Bernard interjected, for clarity.

“We… jerry-rigged dimensional travel. This can get you home.” Dick went to press a button on his device, and a flurry of “no, wait!”’s rang out from around him.

The new arrival looked confused. “Do you… need to get something first?”

A number of the others exchanged looks, Bernard making eye contact with Conner, the only one still beside him. 

Tim exhaled, tugging his brother’s arm down from where it had been raised in the air. “We should talk.”

Chapter Text

Steph’s ankle wasn’t as bad as they had first thought. It wasn’t quite sprained, just twisted a little. It had already started feeling better in the fifteen minutes they had been sitting in the living room of the apartment she and Cass shared with Roy and Jason.

As she rubbed the offending joint almost absently, Kon ducked back into the room holding a well-used notebook. It was filled with the planning and speculating that they had all collaborated on over the past three months. The Agrex had made themselves known to the Justice League during that time, coming on less strongly than they had in Steph’s home dimension. They seemed to come across as if they had been “just passing through” the Solar System, had a technological malfunction, and introduced themselves in hope of a little bit of assistance.

Tim had expressed his certainty that the aliens had infiltrated this dimension as they had in their own, simply more subtly. Batman’s paranoia had been unhelpful in this regard. The Red Hood’s arrival in Gotham had derailed his suspicion of the invaders. The Agrex stood a much better chance in this dimension of succeeding in their plot, which meant that it fell to the so-called Resistance to foil them. As much as Steph would love to be home right now, enjoying Alfred’s cooking and reuniting with Barbara and Harper, they couldn’t let Dick take them back before sufficiently protecting this world.

There was no sure-fire way to warn any of this place’s protectors without tipping off the infiltrators, so the displaced vigilantes (and Bernard) had attempted to disguise their identities and the purpose of their machinations. Everything they had done since arriving here - everything - had been to prepare for the fallout of the Agrex’s true nature being revealed.

Dick did not take the news well.

“I came all the way here to bring my family home, and you aren’t leaving? Why- half of them are convinced we’ve actually lost you!” he threw his hands up. “I have no way to contact them! This fucking thing has enough charge to get us back- once. I’m not Wally, I can’t make a new one.” He waved the contraption (that’s what it was, a contraption, no two ways about it; it was decidedly contraptiony) in the air, his voice rising in distress.

Steph watched as Cass took both of Dick’s hands in hers, making eye contact. “We help. They need us. What we do.”

Somehow, that seemed to get across more than anything else had. The reminder that all of them prioritized helping those who need it over their own needs. This world needed them, and so they would help. It was what they did.

Dick breathed in and back out again, closing his eyes for several seconds. He squeezed Cass’ hands before letting go, taking the offered notebook gently from Connor’s hands.

“Alright,” he said, “where do we start?”

- - -

This was the first, and hopefully last time in his life that Dick wished he had Slade Wilson’s phone number.

Not because he wanted to talk to his previous mercenary mentor, but because he needed to know the name of the person filling his old apprentice position. Bruce hadn’t even known he’d been Renegade, and he wasn’t going to tell him now. He had to figure out who was masquerading as him, whether Deathstroke had replaced him without even sending a taunting note or if there was a copycat running around.

Oracle had reported that there was no sign of Deathstroke in Gotham, or all of America for that matter, and so the newbie was working alone.

A newbie who Oracle couldn’t dig up a single previous sighting of before he was spotted running around on rooftops a week ago, not since Dick’s own run as Renegade, which Babs had no way of knowing was unrelated. Not entering the city, not entering the country, not anywhere else in Jersey or even hinted at in any cold cases.

And now, he was running around with the Resistance.

They’d managed somehow to get all the way to New York and break into a STAR Labs facility, stealing some classified prototype that B was still working on convincing the scientists to tell him about since the digital files had been corrupted during the theft. Renegade hadn’t been with them, but Oracle’s intel indicated he was now. Whether they had hired him for a specific purpose, or he had been hired to infiltrate them, or, even more concerning, he wasn’t actually affiliated with Deathstroke and was actually a member of the Resistance dressing up as the abandoned moniker, Dick couldn’t even begin to guess.

The sound of skin hitting vinyl continued to echo against the room as Dick’s fists pounded against the weighted bag swinging from reinforced chains. His heartbeat was pounding loud enough to drown out the playlist he’d stopped hearing three songs ago. With a loud tearing sound, the bag ripped, sand spilling out onto the floor.

Finally registering the stinging pain in his hands as grains of sand slipped into his bleeding knuckles, Dick collapsed to the floor gracelessly and tried to slow his breathing.

How the fuck was he supposed to handle this?

- - -

Jason had been hearing rumors about some experimental weapons dealers skulking around the docks. Rather than sending any of his people to report back, he’d insisted on leading the recon. He knew their guard schedules practically by heart now, but he still hadn’t gotten a look inside any of those crates. As much as he was not the STEM type, lord knows Gotham had enough rogues with doctorates, he had no intention of letting criminals get their hands on fancy superweapons. The Alley had enough problems.

Approaching the warehouse, his gut told him something was wrong before his brain caught up to why. They’d timed their approach precisely, to when they could knock out the one guard on this far entrance and sneak inside the back corner unnoticed. But as they approached, there was no guard. The place was too quiet, and Jason realized that the loud hum of the outside lights was absent. Through the windows on the upper floor, the inside of the warehouse was pitch dark.

Either these motherfuckers had already packed up their shit and moved without him hearing about it, or somebody else was inside.

Signalling Thea and Mikey to follow him and the rest to stay out of sight, Jason pushed gently on the door, which - swung open?

Fuck.

“Um, boss?” said Thea, appropriately concerned. Good instincts on that one. “This is the most obvious fucking trap in the history of traps. I’d honestly lose faith in the work we do if you fell for this shit.”

Flipping her off, Jason activated his helmet’s thermal imaging. “Maybe it’s a trap, maybe somebody else showed up and took down the gang before we got here. Might not be for us, I’ve got enough confidence in my stealth skills to believe they don’t know we’re coming.”

He could feel Thea and Mikey exchanging Looks behind him, but they worked for him and he didn’t give a shit. Whoever turned off the power wasn’t expecting the Red Hood to show up.

Just before he reached the other side of the room, where the stairs were, Jason stopped moving long enough to notice the lack of footsteps echoing his own. Turning around, he tried to find Thea and Mikey.

They were gone.

Before the Crime Lord could so much as curse, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Chapter Text

Jason whirled around, locking eyes with a pair of pink glowing lenses attached to a dual toned mask. The figure in front of him was wearing a leather jacket covered in black spikes and pink glitter, decorated similarly to her combat boots. There was a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire in one hand, standing up on the ground with her leaning on it. 

Her voice modulated crackled to life, mirth audible in her voice. “Well, if it isn’t the Red Hood. What could you possibly want with little old us?”

Before Jason could answer, there was a click, and the lights in the warehouse flickered to life. He turned behind him to see a dark clad figure with green glowing behind the lenses of their mask perched on top of a pile of crates. Slumped against it were a clearly unconscious Thea and Mikey. 

The pink figure, Ruin, leaned against the railing of the stairs behind her. “They’ll be fine.”

Shade giggled behind her mask. 

Jason let his breathing even out, realizing that the Resistance were probably there for the weapons dealers he’d been after. “You… you the people Ren was looking for? He find you?”

Ruin tilted her head upwards, toward the top floor. “HEY REN! YOUR EMERGENCY CONTACT’S HERE!”

She grabbed onto the railing and flipped upwards, wrapping her limbs around the rungs surrounding the balcony. Jason turned around to see that the other person was gone, the crate she’d been sitting on ajar and emptied of contents. A figure dropped from above, landing next to him lightly. 

The man was wearing black and red tactical gear and a mask that looked like he was doing a couple’s Halloween costume with Deathstroke. He had way too many guns for someone that wasn’t Jason. 

Renegade unbuckled his helmet. “You’re not my emergency contact.”

- - -

Dick watched Jason tilted his head. “You really gotta stop dropping down on me in warehouses, Dickhead. I’ll show you an emergency.”

Dick smiled, knowing it was too bright and too happy. “Did you need help with something?”

“Not anymore. I’m guessing you were after the weapons dealers.”

That wasn’t exactly true. In fact, “we’re after their weapons.” Dick tucked his helmet under his arm. “Follow me.”

He ascended the stairs, not looking to see if Jason was following. He put his hand on the door of the assholes’ office and pushed it open, plopping himself down on their couch. He watched Hood stall in the doorway. 

“I’m not really allowed to tell you what we want with their tech,” Dick continued, purposely oblivious, “but you don’t actually care. You just wanted the shit off your streets. So if you don’t have to worry about the weapons, and you couldn’t care less about their suppliers… Why did you follow me upstairs?”

For a second, the figure in the doorway was completely still, a deceptively calm stance that Dick knew from experience was incredibly dangerous, coming from Jason. Then, he slowly reached up to take off his helmet, placing it on the desk as he perched beside it after latching the door. In the dim light of the empty office, Dick heard a sigh. 

“Your… Jason. Your me." The reluctance was audible in his brother’s voice. “Are you… you’re okay?”

And oh . Jay was… something… about the prospect of reconciling with his family. 

Dick hadn’t really been expecting a heart-to-heart. 

“It took a little while, but yeah. Yeah, little wing, we’re okay. Were you worried? I know today’s Nightwing seems angry even looking at you, but you showed up with a name used by- well, you showed up calling yourself the Red Hood and started threatening Robin. If he knew it was you he wouldn’t be so… overprotective.” 

Dick realized a second too late that this may not have been the wisest thing to say. Too blunt for a Jason that was still this angry. He heard a loaded exhale and the crunching of Hood’s hand gripping the desk hard enough to damage it. For a few seconds, there was nothing but tense silence and his own heartbeat pounding disproportionately loud.

Then, he heard the other man release his grip on the table. “Your… Robin .” the crime lord said, soft enough that Dick could barely hear it. “Tell me about him.”

- - -

Well, Jason hadn’t exactly expected being strong-armed into empathizing with his quote-unquote family today. He hadn’t even expected seeing his family today, but the Resistance was clearly up to some shit, and Gotham was a small city. (or at least, the parts of it that were somewhat hidden from Batman were small). 

He felt the ground slip out from under him as he was forcefully confronted with the painful realization that what he was doing was hurting his brother . 

Of course, if Dick - his Dick -  actually cared about the new bird, he would be terrified that someone going by one of Joker’s old names was after his new, shiny brother. Especially when he was well aware of what had happened to the last one. Well, Jason owed it to the ghost of his teenage self - the one who’d cared about Nightwing’s approval - to find out what was so special about Timothy Drake . 

He heard Dick’s shocked inhale of breath as his brother tried to regain his composure, genuinely surprised by the question. 

When he spoke, it was soft, hesitant, as if approaching a wild animal. “Tim’s… Tim’s a genius, for all that he’s an idiot, you know? I mean, the kid wouldn’t know what a self preservation instinct was if it punched him in the face, but he’s a better detective than B is, even. I ever tell you how he got made Robin? Wait, that’s a stupid question. No one would have known to tell you. Here, I- do you mind?”

Honestly, Jason didn’t mind. That was enough of an opener that his curiosity had a foothold now. All of his careful insistence that he didn’t need to know anything about the new bird beyond it being Bruce’s devoted soldier was useless in the face of actual information. He schooled his expression as he gestured for Dick to continue. “By all means.”

The man smiled, shaking his head. “Timmy figured out Batman’s secret identity when he was nine. Saw me on-”

“Wait, what the fuck? Nine? I thought he was fourteen?”

“Hmm? Oh, he is fourteen. Was, when he started as Robin. Is, I mean. In this dimension. Fourteen. Fuck, this is too confusing. Okay.”

Jason had to admit, Dick had a point. He was also very confused.

“Okay! He saw me on the news, doing like a quadruple somersault or something. Apparently there aren’t very many people in the world who can do that, and even less of them that live in Gotham. And if Dick Grayson is Nightwing…”

Jason finished, eyes wide at how surreal this was. “... then Bruce Wayne has to be Batman.”

Dick beamed. “Exactly! So, Timmy figured it out, and didn’t tell anyone . It’s like we told B when Bernard found out, some people will figure out a superhero’s secret identity and not tell anyone no matter who it is, because they understand the importance of keeping that shit secret. And if there’s one thing to say about Tim’s parents, it’s that they definitely taught him the importance of keeping secrets.”

Well Jason didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Bernard?”

Dick waved his hands to shoo away the question. “Don’t worry about it. So anyways, B kinda went off the deep end after you d- um. Well. after . And Timmy saw it happening and decided that ‘Batman needs Robin’ or whatever. I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong, although I wish the responsibility hadn’t fallen to him. But- you didn’t see it, Jay. he just. Didn’t care anymore. Was gonna get himself killed, or somebody else killed- the most violent I’ve ever seen him, actually.”

They were both silent for a moment. Jason pushed down against his rising nausea. Bruce hadn’t cared about him , surely. Just pissed the clown had managed to pull one over on him, had managed to take away his soldier. He let out a shuddering breath, waiting for Dick to continue. He did.

“Anyways, Tim’s like, too smart. Really. After he figured us out, but before he became Robin, he used to follow us and Batman around with a camera, take photos. Really the only photos we have of you as a kid. Neither of us ever noticed him, can you believe it? Guess he was just born to be one of us, stealthy enough to sneak up on Batman.”

Jason felt something light up in the edge of his memory, wracking his brain as to why that sounded so familiar. He remembered splitting off from Batman on patrol, worried about some kid he saw on the edge of a roof, a stinging pain in his eyes…

“Holy fuck! That stalker kid, with the expensive camera?? Little shit pepper sprayed me once, oh my god! You made Alvin Draper Robin??”

Jason remembered, now, catching some kid watching him and Batman a couple of times, not saying anything cuz he understood - in a way Bruce and Dick never did - that sometimes kids didn’t want help from strangers they couldn’t trust. He watched as said brother did an exceptional impression of a brain-dead fish.

“You- you saw Tim when he used to stalk us? Why the fuck didn’t you say anything??”

Jason couldn’t help himself, he started laughing his ass off. Dick looked so betrayed that Jay hadn’t told him everything that had ever happened to him. God, he’d- he’d missed this? Jason had missed his brother.

Dick joined in on his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes as he settled down. “Well, no wonder, if you covered for him. Tim hates it when people snitch on him, even if it’s out of concern for his own well-being.”

Jason narrowed his eyes, confused. “No wonder what?”

“Oh, you were his hero as a kid. You’d think more people would show love for the OG, but-”   Dick shrugged, sniffing with false pompousness “-Tim’s favourite Robin was Jason Todd.”

Jason stared as his brother managed to make him feel warmer, sitting on a desk in this drafty old warehouse, than he had in the last two years. The awareness came with a sobering reminder of why he was resentful in the first place.

“Dick,” Jason interjected, coldly, “why did you not come to my funeral?”

- - - 

Dick stopped laughing as Jason’s words echoed in his ears. He’d been asked the question before- with more screaming, that time- but even with his Jason’s reassurance, he still felt incredibly guilty. He exhaled, half a laugh, half a sob.

“Little wing-” Dick dropped his head down and squeezed his eyes shut before slowly lifting it up again “-little wing, I was in space.”

Dick watched Jason freeze, the expression on his face unquantifiable. He stood. 

“Dickhead, I’ll- I’ll see you around. Try not to take any more bullets for me.”

 The crime lord donned his helmet again, the layered voice masking his emotions. He made to leave for the door, turning back just before he slipped away. 

“Thanks for your help with the weapons dealers. Good luck with your… project.”

- - - 

Thea blinked herself awake, her blurry eyes clearing enough to focus as she noticed the Boss come down the stairs. He didn’t look injured, wasn’t even breathing heavily- but he held himself still in a way she only saw whenever someone mentioned the Joker.

Uncomfortable to see him like this, as if she were intruding on something dangerous for her to witness, she turned away to shake Mikey awake. 

Once she’d helped him to his feet, she turned to see Red Hood already halfway out of the warehouse, striding away without a word. Well , she reasoned, spotting the open and empty crates they’d previously been leaning against, at least the weapons probably aren’t an issue anymore .

Beside her, Mikey groaned, rubbing his neck where someone had grabbed them both from behind. “God, we’ve really gotta stop breaking into warehouses.”

Chapter Text

Bruce was worried about Dick. 

He was also, incidentally, worried about Tim. 

He wasn’t sure if the fact that the worries were unrelated should be a cause for relief or a cause for concern.

Dick was pretty straightforward. He’d been incredibly stressed. The training room at the manor had needed repairs a few times in the past week or two, and Bruce had discovered by checking the logs on the batcomputer that Dick had been looking into the Resistance for longer than he’d shared. He’d remotely accessed the Resistance’s files before Bruce had even mentioned them to him. Since Renegade had shown up, it had gotten worse. Bruce still didn’t understand exactly what was so distressing to his son about these particular criminals, but perhaps it warranted paying them more attention than he had been. 

On the other hand, however, taking up most of his focus, was the reason he was worried about Tim.

The Red Hood. 

He’d started leaving threatening messages. The first time Batman had spoken to him, he’d ended their conversation with “Be careful that your little bird doesn’t stray too far from the nest. I’d hate if you had to go find a shiny new Robin. Again .”

With the diplomatic talks the Justice League had initiated with this “Agrex”, the anarchists who apparently just fell out of the sky one day seemingly vanishing every time Bruce turned his back on them, and some murderer wielding the name of a worse murderer coming after his son Robin, he couldn’t give his full attention to any of the issues currently worthy of such. 

He’d tried to pull back from the negotiations, but couldn’t stop himself from worrying. 

“Bruce!”

Bruce turned to see Tim run into the cave, in uniform. He narrowed his eyes. 

“Tim, you aren’t supposed to be patrolling tonight.”

Tim faltered, but stepped forward anyway. “I wasn’t patrolling. I was investigating.” His voice increased in both speed and pitch as he got more excited about his findings “There were these weapons dealers bringing strange tech into Gotham down by the docks. I went to investigate, and they were already gone. I figured someone must have done something about them, so I ran nearby security cam footage, and the Red Hood went into the warehouse with a couple of his people, looking for them, but here’s the thing-”

Bruce’s vision blurred under rising panic. “...The Red Hood?”

Tim barely paused. “Yeah! He took two people in with him but the warehouse was already dark-”

“Tim,” Bruce interrupted, trying to slow his breathing, “I told you to stay away from him.”

His protege halted, realization dawning on his face, then reluctance. “But B, listen-”

“NO, Tim. I told you to stay away from him! I can’t- you cannot be patrolling alone, you cannot be putting yourself in danger investigating a dangerous crime lord who probably wants you dead, I-”

He cut himself off, forcing calm. He watched as Tim made to argue against him, convince him to let his son the boy put himself in more danger. He ran his hand through his hair, grabbing on and pulling as if the pressure would help ground him. 

“Benched. You- you’re benched. I can’t- No, you’ll sneak out. I have to-” his breaths were shorter again, now, how did that happen? “- I have to get you out of the city. Go to Titans Tower, go see your friends. Take whatever missions come up anywhere else. I’ll-” He turned away, unable to make himself look at his partner. ”-I’ll bring you back to Gotham when it’s safe.”

The clacking of keys filled the room, and Bruce heard Tim storming away in frustration, telling himself that it didn’t matter how upset his charge was, as long as he was alive. 

- - - 

If Bruce thought that Tim was just gonna stay here, benched, and wait for someone else who hadn’t been paying attention to his motives to deal with the Red Hood, he had another think coming. Tim was not about to sit here and be sidelined, thankyouverymuch. He was onto something with these weapons dealers, he knew it. Bruce would know it too, if he bothered to listen , rather than panicking ! Tim was not Jason, and the Red Hood was not the Joker. 

Batman was being paranoid.

Besides, he was worrying about nothing. By the time Robin had started skulking around that warehouse, everyone was long gone. There were a couple of nearby security cameras, but they weren’t the goldmine. The goldmine was what Tim had found inside the warehouse. 

A nannycam . 

It didn’t have audio, and it only covered a certain angle, but it was still a huge break in the case. It was also pretty much the only thing Tim had found. Someone- not Hood, and not the dealers, but someone - had cleared the place out. There were still a bunch of crates scattered around the warehouse, but every one of them was entirely empty. If it wasn’t for the nannycam, he would have no idea what had happened. 

This is what he saw. Hood showed up at a dark warehouse. The door was unlocked. He was wearing a helmet, but one of his goons could be lipread as saying that it was clearly a trap and they should leave. Whatever Hood’s response, he took two of his people inside anyways. 

Half an hour later, they came back out, empty handed. So what happened to the tech?

Well, Tim ran back the footage, and saw the dealers leaving about twelve minutes before Hood showed up. They were harried. They grabbed their cars and fucked literally all the way out of Gotham. They were also carrying nothing but what they could fit under their jackets . Completely uninformative. 

But here’s the thing. 

Barely three minutes before that, someone had slipped in through a back window, took out the breaker, and scared off all the dealers. When Hood had come in, you could see shadows moving around.

Someone else was in the building. 

This was when Tim had gone in person to investigate. Here’s what he found. 

In the nannycam footage, Hood had entered the building, heading to the stairs. His henchpeople- 31-year-old Michael “Mikey” Andreski and an unidentified woman estimated to be a few years younger - were trailing behind him, but Andreski heard or saw something out of view of the others, and hung back to check it out. Barely visible on the camera, a slim figure in all black had his friend unconscious in a chokehold before she even noticed them. When Andreski turned back around to catch up, having found nothing, the ninja got him too. Hood noticed they’re missing and turned around, only to get visibly jumpscared by an accomplice- a member of the anarchist group B had been obsessing over for the past few months. Ruin.

While Hood has his back turned, Shade drags his people over to some crates, posting up there having decided not to hide from the crime lord. After a brief discussion- in which Ruin’s presence seems to relax Hood and they seem at the very least cordial, if not outright amicable , Ruin yelled something before parkouring up to the second floor, and Renegade dropped down beside Hood- not only confirming his alliance with the Resistance, but TAKING OFF HIS HELMET IN FRONT OF HOOD , somehow keeping his face out of view of the nannycam. When Hood came down the stairs minutes later, his people had woken up, and he seemed visibly agitated. They leave without ever having touched the crates. 

Now, with nothing else to do in Titans Tower except sleep or watch Youtube conspiracy theories, Tim was going over the footage with a fine toothed comb. 

While he was looking for footage of Hood’s retreat, Tim found another exterior camera focusing on the other side of the building. He not only caught Ruin, Shade, Renegade and Harpy entering the building, he also saw when Harpy returned to his post nearby after pushing one of the dealers off the balcony and covering his accomplices with a sniper rifle during their take over, and began to hand pilfered tech to Malachite outside the window. 

Now that he’d seen it, Tim noticed Shade darting around the edges of the warehouse, brushing past crates and leaving the lids ajar, crossing out of reach of the camera only to come back into view behind Harpy in the window, handing him her haul before returning for more. After that, he noticed Ruin come up to him and pass over some loot, presumably having grabbed it from the other side of the balcony unnoticed once Renegade started talking to Hood. Looking closely, he could see her sparkly combat boots barely in the top of the frame of the nannycam, crossing back and forth on the balcony as she ferried tech to their extraction team. By the time Hood had left, only Renegade remained in the building, the other three having slipped out of that back window and below the frame of the exterior camera, joining Malachite at whatever getaway vehicle they presumably had waiting for them at street level. 

Once Renegade climbed out the window to join them, they didn't reappear on any cameras Tim could find nearby.

God, he’d kill for a single shred of audio. The most frustrating thing about all of these people wearing masks was that he couldn’t read their lips- the most he’d gotten was a comment from Andrikson about warehouses. 

As he slowed the pace of his work, Tim looked up to realize that the room had gone pretty dark. He guessed he’d kinda been in here for hours combing over this footage. Oops. 

As he took in the darkness of his workspace, he noticed something else that he couldn’t put his finger on. There was this eerie stillness, something not quite right about the tower even though it was fairly reasonable to assume that everyone else here was asleep this late at night. Tim’s instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong.

In a sudden affirmation of the Robin’s paranoia - an unwanted one, God, Tim hated being right so often - the red emergency lights flickered on, bathing the room in a feeling of danger, concerningly unaccompanied by the usual alarm. 

Well, fuck. 

Chapter Text

Jason really enjoyed wearing a helmet. 

For one thing, he’d had enough of blunt force trauma. For another, it was way better at hiding his identity than his Robin costume had been- it even had a voice modulator. 

And for a third thing, he felt way less vulnerable obscured behind metal and kevlar than he would if people could see his face- know just how young he was, know what he was feeling - his vocal inflections and facial expressions were completely hidden from anyone who might suspect he was more than apathetic at any given moment. 

But really, the thing he liked most about his helmet right now were the night vision lenses which allowed him to see while Titans Tower was in lockdown.

Of course, the new bird would be able to tell that something was wrong from the lights going out, but Jason was still pleased about having deactivated the alarms. 

Silence, after all, was scarier than noise - the way that the imagination of a viewer was scarier than the actual villain in a horror movie. 

Besides, he’d be able to hear his prey better like this. 

Drake was probably scurrying around, trying to find help. Too bad for him - the limited number of heroes who were actually in Titans Tower tonight were taking a catnap, courtesy of some lovely little knockout drugs he’d sourced from some contacts in the Narrows. 

And anybody who wasn’t home- well, the manual patch into the tower’s systems downstairs which jammed any outgoing or ingoing signals would keep them blissfully unaware of any calls for help. 

The sound of his footsteps echoing down the hallway matched the pounding in his ears, he could feel the adrenaline rising in his blood. Jason was delirious with bitter amusement as he recalled an old nursery rhyme his mother used to sing to him, licking his dried lips and letting the tuneless words crackle through his helmet, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“On the farm, ev'ry Friday

On the farm, it's rabbit pie day

So ev'ry Friday that ever comes along

I get up early and sing this little song…”

- - - 

The hoodie that Tim was wearing over the base layer of his uniform did nothing to protect him against the chills running through him. The lid of his computer snicked shut, and he placed it on his bed almost silently, before slowly lifting his legs off the bed and to the floor, padding towards the hallway. 

Someone was probably in the Tower, and they’d been able to disable the alarms before placing the building in lockdown, which meant they were more capable than most of the people in the building at navigating the Titans’ systems, which in turn meant that Tim was probably screwed. 

Probably. 

Unless he could find some way to reactivate the system from inside. 

He figured his distress signal wouldn’t do much good, but he pressed it anyway, stopping only to grab a handful of batarangs and his bo, which was significantly less than he’d prefer to have against an intruder. 

Pausing for a few seconds of deliberation, Tim threw his phone on his bed, figuring that he’d rather be without than lose the element of surprise because he got a call, which had, embarrassingly, happened to him before. 

Fuck it , he thought, and crept off into the dark.

- - - 

“Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run

Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run”

The haunting sound of a murderer singing through a voice modulator resounded down the hallway as Jason stalked forward, listening for the sound of someone creeping around the tower. 

The new bird would probably head to the server room, so that was where he was headed. As he saw it ahead of him, the door wide open, he pulled his fingers into the shape of a gun, pretending to fire it as he continued to sing. 

“Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the farmer's gun

Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run, run

Run, robin, run, robin, run run run…

The server room was dark, cameras buzzing with static. Jason furrowed his brow beneath his helmet. 

Had he disabled them?

He bent forward to tap at the keys…

Something slammed into him from above, landing on top of his back and obstructing his helmet. He stumbled backward, reacting on instinct. He reached back and flung the attacker off him. 

Robin slammed into the wall of the hallway with a sickening crack and slid to the floor. 

- - -

The Red Hood. 

Of fucking course it was the Red Hood. 

If Tim wasn’t so freaked out, he would be laughing at Bruce right now. The man had sent his Robin all the way to Titan’s Tower to protect him, and all that he’d accomplished was turning Tim into a sitting duck for the very crime lord he was trying to avoid. 

The man stalked into the server room, singing an admittedly very creepy lullaby. He leaned forward to look at the cameras, taking Tim’s bait. 

Amateur. 

Before Tim could second guess himself, he dropped down from the ceiling, attempting to grapple the man. Robin wasn’t only Batman trained, he was Nightwing trained. Even with his smaller stature, it took a strong-ass rogue to brute force him off-

And then Tim was flying through the air, smacking into the wall. 

Ow. 

He probably had broken something. He mentally categorized his injuries. His arms were probably… fine? What?

The Red Hood hadn’t brute forced him off at all. He’d… evaded his grapple? 

What the fuck ?

Before Tim could blink, the man was on the move again, grabbing Tim’s arm painfully and tossing him down the hall. The boy tossed a batarang at him for his trouble. 

Tim pulled his limbs in and rolled when he got the ground, staggering to his feet and pulling his collapsible bo staff out of his pocket. 

Red Hood’s voice modulator crackled unnervingly. “What’s wrong, there, birdie? All alone with no bat coming to save you?” He punctuated his statement by pulling a gun on Tim, which the Robin knocked out of his hand with the bo, granting his opponent an opportunity to disarm him and snap the staff over his knee. 

Holy shit. 

The Red Hood laughed. “What would be worse, I wonder… Batman getting here too late or not getting here at all?” 

Tim had enough time to realize that Bruce maybe hadn’t been so paranoid after all, but not enough time to dodge the punch. 

- - -

The kid’s head rolled as he blinked, disoriented. He was wearing a domino and Robin pants under one of Dick’s old hoodies. 

Dick. 

Dick’s voice resounded in Jason’s head- not the voice of the man who gave Robin his hoodie, but the voice of the man who had taken a bullet for him in that warehouse.  

Oh, you were his hero as a kid. 

Hero?

You’d think more people would show love for the OG, but-”   Dick shrugged, sniffing with false pompousness “-Tim’s favourite Robin was Jason Todd.”

Jason Todd

Jason Todd 

J a s o n

J̶͎̤̲͕͖͛̈́̆̐̒à̶̟͕̳̰̊͛̈́͐͆̇̈̚͘͝͝s̴̡̟̑̄̎́̉̽͘͝ǫ̸̦͚̬̥̱͕̪̘̖͔̲̱̽̑̌͐͆͜n̵̡̙̹̭͎̋̓̂̽̐̅̈́͠ 

Jason!

- - -

Tim, through blurred vision, watched the Red Hood start to shake. With trembling hands, he reached up to that blood red helmet and fiddled with the latch. Tim watched it thud to the ground in front of him. 

“-alker?”

“-ello? Li- bird?”

“-im! R- in?”

“Alvin!”

Tim’s eyes were swimming as a boy in a domino - why was it red? That’s the wrong colour - reached into his pocket and pulled out his  distress signal. 

The boy in front of him smiled - kind, familiar. 

Tim blinked in confusion, trying to keep his eyes open. 

“…Robin?”

Chapter Text

“... Are you sure it was him?”

Tim looked up from picking at his nails as Dick broke the silence. 

When they’d found him at the tower, he was whispering “Robin” as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Tim didn’t remember it well, but he remembered waking up in the med bay to tell them that Jason was the Red Hood, Jason had been at Titan’s Tower, Tim had seen him . 

Bruce had dismissed it, but was downstairs trying to recover the footage, scouring for information like Tim’s word wasn’t enough. 

Dick had taken him upstairs to the second sitting room to wait, and had been staring at the wall for at least seven minutes when he finally spoke. 

“It had to be,” Tim said softly, “He - he was wearing a domino mask and I swear to you, Dick… that was Jason.”

He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the carpet, blue and gray with faint marble patterns, as he fiddled with a loose thread on the couch, but still heard the shuddering, tearful inhale from the other side of the room.

“But-” Dick sounded almost heartbroken as he asked. “-how are you sure ?”

Tim’s other hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck. “He called me Alvin.”

Whatever Dick was expecting, that hadn’t been it, judging by the way his gaze snapped up, clearly perplexed. 

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I, uh… when I used to follow you guys around, he… noticed me, once. Asked me who I was and what I was doing there.”

Tim looked up to see the furrow on Dick’s brow.

“I lied. I told him my name was Alvin Draper, said that the camera was stolen. I don’t know that he believed me, but it was the only name I ever gave him.” 

“He…” Dick looked even more lost.

“When I was in the tower, he attacked me, at first. I jumped him, he threw me into the hallway, and then we were fighting out of… reflex, maybe even. But he tossed me into the living room, and we both had a second to breathe, and…”

In his periphery, Tim could see the aborted movement that the older boy made with his hands, as if he wasn’t sure whether to reach out. 

“My head was spinning, and I wasn’t looking at him, but he took off his helmet and I was… barely awake. I think he couldn’t go through with it, maybe? He started calling my name to snap me out of it, but I barely heard him. And then… he called me Alvin.”

Tim looked back down at his lap. “You and Bruce can believe whatever you want, but I never gave that name to anyone else.”

- - - 

Barbara had tried to discourage him, but Dick couldn’t be deterred. Tim was either right about this or someone knew far too much about his baby brother and Dick had to find him. When Oracle had given him the location, Dick had hung up on her in the middle of her warnings. He needed to do this.

He needed to. 

A flash of red caught his eye and the vigilante switched directions mid-swing, landing with catlike grace on the far end of the rooftop. The golden-rosy glow of the sun cast long shadows across Crime Alley. No stealth training could hide Dick’s own silhouette as it landed next to the crime lord as he stood surveying his territory, like a fucked up version of The Lion King. 

The Red Hood tilted his head and waited for the other man to speak. 

“Little Wing?” Dick said, hating how unsure he sounded, “Is that… really you?”

There was a crackling exhale of breath before the man spoke, the quiet question more of a statement than anything. 

“The kid told you.”

The vigilante let out a sound that was more of a sob and took a stumbling step forward. “Jay-”

A gloved hand came up and the clicking sound of a latch disengaging echoed across the rooftop.

There was a hiss of air, and the hand holding the helmet fell limply to the other man’s side. 

He turned, slowly, and Dick took in the dark hair, the tan skin, and when the face came into view - unobstructed by the expected domino, teal eyes welling up with tears, familiar nose and jaw and cheekbones framing a face that he’d thought they’d never have the chance to grow into - Dick wailed and threw himself forward into Jason’s arms for the first time in three years. 

The man beneath him stiffened, but then, almost incredulously, too-big arms came up to hold him - first awkwardly, then firmly, and then Dick’s baby brother melted into the hug and breathed a trembling sigh into his shoulder. 

“Jason…” 

The man in question just continued to breathe as Dick addressed him.

“Jason… please, come home?”

- - - 

Home?

Dick had to be kidding, right? 

Jason may have accepted that his brother could somehow love him still after what he’d done - his disbelief worn down by Nightwing’s universal counterpart and then eradicated by this interaction altogether - but his brother was not Batman. Bruce could never accept Jason now, probably refused to believe he was even back, and Jason would not let Dick get in trouble for bringing an enemy into the manor, nor would he allow himself to be put in a situation where his father Batman could get the drop on him and put him in Arkham. 

“Bruce doesn’t want me home,” he said into the crook of Dick’s neck because it was easier than looking his brother in the eye, “I’m wanted by the police. I’m a killer . Bruce wants me far away from you, and Alfie, and his new son.”

A hand came up to stroke through his hair (when had Dick taken his gloves off?) and a voice, thick with tears, rumbled against his ear where he could feel the other man’s vocal cords.

“Bruce is a paranoid idiot who refuses to entertain the idea you’re alive until he has irrefutable proof because he’s scared of allowing himself to believe it and then losing you all over again when it wasn’t true.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t been what Jason was expecting to hear. He jerked his head up. “I’m sorry?”

Dick huffed a laugh. “He’s down in the cave right now, obsessively going over every piece of evidence and scouring Tim’s uniform for DNA samples so that he can find out, definitively, what’s going on before his emotions catch up to his ‘purely intellectual’ entertainment of the possibility and he has to confront his grief. Jay… losing you broke him. He loved you.”

Jason was frozen, refusing to allow himself hope that Dick wasn’t the only member of the family that he could have back, after everything. 

The other man continued, willfully or unwittingly oblivious. “He would never arrest you. If you came home… hell, if he could at least see you once to know you’re okay… I’m pretty sure he’d beg to have the chance.”

“You…” Jason pulled away from his brother and stepped back, his walls coming up even without him knowing whether he wanted them to. Everything had been turned upside down. “You don’t want me home. You don’t want… what I am now.”

Dick looked at him, pleading. “Please, Jason… please… I’ll do anything.”

- - - 

Jason quirked a brow, his voice malicious. “...Anything? I could use that.”

Dick reached out and then thought better of it, uncaring that he sounded desperate. 

“Well do you have anything in mind? Because I don’t want to have to wait for you to come up with something sufficiently sadistic to get my baby brother back.”

His brother’s head tilted to the side. “Could always just accept an IOU?”

Dick’s eyes went wide. “Jase, you know I want you back more than anything…”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You get two conditions. Then whatever I ask is at my discretion.”

Dick hummed, thinking. “No killing,” he said, almost apologetically. “I can’t- you can’t make me kill anyone or do something that will get someone killed.”

Jason nodded, barely phased.

“I need some sort of escape valve,” Dick mused, still tentative. 

“What, like a veto?”

“No, like a time limit.” he paused. “Six months. Whatever you ask me to do, assuming it’s not a kind of instant thing… like, don’t tell Bruce this, don’t come looking for me, go to Argentina and infiltrate a cult, you get six months. After that, I’ll only keep doing it if you can actually convince me to keep going.”

Jason looked briefly stricken, then flattened his expression and nodded, once. 

“Fine. No killing, six months. A blanket IOU. In exchange…” 

Dick figured he wasn’t supposed to hear the raggedness in the drawn-out breath that followed.

“One-” Jason held up a finger to illustrate “-family dinner. You’re responsible for making sure that Bruce doesn’t… I dunno. Fuck it up.” He waved his hands in a way probably meant to illustrate Bruce’s anticipated missteps. 

Jason took another step back, and then raised a hand to his head and yanked out a few strands of hair, offering them to Dick. “Sunday evening. I’ll be there at six.”

Dick took the offered DNA, nodding in appreciation for his brother’s allowance of their father’s… hang-ups. 

The forgotten helmet was placed back onto the other man’s head and latched, voice modulator returning. 

“You get this one chance not to fuck it up.”

Dick watched his brother grapple away. 

Chapter Text

“And you’re sure that they’ll target the prototype?”

Nightwing’s voice crackled in Batman’s ear from his position on the other side of the building’s roof. It was dark now, and the four of them had been staking out Kord Industries all day, unsure how or when the Resistance was planning to strike. Nightwing wasn’t the only one getting impatient.

“The dark web chatter confirms it,” Oracle responded, keys clacking. “My algorithm picked up the traffic when the unveiling was announced yesterday. The Resistance are planning to strike tonight, before tomorrow’s event.”

Robin chimed in, “It fits their modus operandi. They’ve been going after all sorts of unique and recently created tech. And given the fact that Renegade was seen in Chicago, and it’s been nearly two weeks since they took out those dealers - the same stretch of time between them and S.T.A.R. Labs - “ 

“It’s about time for them to make a move,” Oracle finished. “They clearly are still building up to whatever it is they’re intending to pull off.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, casting his gaze over the side of the building and towards the back, where he could have sworn he’d seen a shadow move.

“ -and obviously it’s actually a big season for tech -” Tim was still talking. “ -between this, S.T.A.R’s EMP and those specialized circuits Wayne’s developing, not to mention PalmerTech’s new planes - ”

A window that the vigilante could barely see from his vantage point seemed to catch a passing headlight, and a figure slipped past inside the hallway. 

“God, can we cool it with the detective work? I get it, they’ll be here, whatever.” Jason interjected, groaning. “I only joined you guys on this stupid mission because I wanted some action, and to figure out what the fuck is up with those Resistance assholes”

Tim piped up, “Yeah, actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that- ”

“I see them.” Bruce interrupted, gruffly. “They’re already inside.”

“Shit, how the hell did that happen?!” Bruce heard Nightwing’s grapple fire as he swung down to ground level. Oracle cursed over the comms. 

“Dammit, they looped the cameras manually . Who fucking sabotages security cameras in this day and age? Just access them remotely like everyone else.”

“Robin,” Batman ordered, “first floor hallway, northeast corner. See if you can hear them from your position.”

- - -

Batman’s orders crackled over the comms. Tim squinted as he figured out which way to go, then began to slowly move through the vents. 

“Got it, B,” he whispered, inching forward and freezing as he began to hear footsteps.

“ - I’m just saying, Harpy needed to ease up on the instructions. He doesn’t need to hold my hand, I can deactivate a camera on my own.” 

Tim peered through the slats, watching as Renegade came into view, clearly mid conversation. 

“Maybe if he was here, he could do it himself. What the fuck is he doing, anyway?”

Another person sighed. “Conspiracy has him working on the project. He’s our tech guy, he doesn’t need to be here for a simple heist.”

“I mean, seriously, you have me double duty right now as your tech and your muscle. You guys better be paying me really fucking well for this. I mean it.”

A third voice chimed in, higher pitched, probably female. “Yeah, where’s Malachite anyway?”

The second voice spoke up again, and Domino came into view. “guarding Harpy’s ass while Nova’s glued to Conspiracy. The three of us don’t really separate.”

Renegade cleared his throat. “And you’re here with us, why?”

“Someone needed to lead this mission, and it wasn’t about to be Ruin.”

“Hey!”

Domino sighed. “The four of us can handle it just fine. There are probably two security guards in this whole building. Kord industries isn’t exactly the Pentagon.” 

Tim withdrew and slowly inched away, until he was out of earshot. 

“I heard three of them, but they said there was another in the building. Domino’s in charge with Renegade and Ruin, Shade is unaccounted for. The other four are working on some kind of important device, probably why they’re after the tech.”

“Well then,” responded Jason, over Tim’s comm, “let’s make sure they don’t get it.”

- - - 

Jason crouched down to fiddle with the electronic lock. He pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and leveraged the thing open, revealing the wires concealed inside. He wasn’t exactly the most tech-proficient member of his family, but he definitely knew how to pick any kind of lock in a pinch. This wasn’t going to take him long. 

Behind him, he could hear whispered conversation.

“I’m really not sure that Batman ’s gonna fall for the most paper-thin misdirect I’ve ever conceived of. My online close-up magic instructor would be really disappointed in me right now.”

Kon sighed. “Babe, the trick to getting people to fall for your bullshit is letting them think that they’ve figured you out. We planned for this. Nobody’s telling them that the four of us aren’t part of the mission, we’re letting them overhear it. The Bats won’t assume that we’re expecting them to intercept us, because they weren’t there either of the last two times, and they think we think that we’re ahead of them. Of course, we are ahead of them, but…”

Bernard laughed. “You’re right. Dom and the others will distract them while we grab the tech. Nobody’s going to think to look for us. It just… feels really arrogant to assume I can outsmart Batman. Just cuz we both know that Domino can, doesn’t mean that I feel that I should get to?”

The door buzzed and clicked open, and Jason rolled his eyes as he stood. “Listen, loverboy, calm down with the self doubt and hurry your ass up. Let’s get this shit and get out before the cops get here, yeah?”

Conner nodded excitedly and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. “And if they do get here, get behind me. God, I’ve always wanted to be part of a heist!”

Bernard exhaled, nodding. “Yeah, yeah okay. Let’s go steal some prototypes.”

Chapter Text

Bruce minimized the blueprint on his gauntlet. According to the specs, the room the prototype was being stored in was in the very middle of the building and there was only one way in. He stalked out of the high security lab and back out into the wider workspace, nodding to Nightwing as he passed him. 

The Resistance would have to go through them to get to the tech. 

The space they were standing in had high ceilings and a handful of tables scattered about. There were crates and cases stacked near the walls, along with a handful of support beams. Bruce stood in the middle of the room, facing the balcony that looked out on the room from the second floor, with Nightwing and Hood off to either side of him. Robin had climbed up high where he wouldn’t be noticed. 

Bruce’s gaze shot to one of the adjacent hallways as footsteps sounded. Three members of the Resistance entered the room and stopped, surprised to see the Bats waiting for them. Ruin turned to Domino for instructions. 

Domino looked at Bruce. “Batman, what a surprise to see you here,” he said. “I-

“Dibs!” Renegade yelled suddenly, pulling out a gun and charging at Nightwing. Bruce moved to interfere, but was blocked as the shadows shifted and a fourth figure was standing in front of him, gripping his wrist.

Shade had arrived. 

- - - 

Jason barely heard Domino yell “Ruin! Get the prototype!” before the man had charged him, sliding across the floor as he dodged the batarang Robin had thrown before the boy pounced on Ruin to intercept her. The black-and-white-clad anarchist popped up from below the crime lord, hitting the hand holding his gun with a surprisingly practiced move, and sending it skidding across the floor. 

Jason went for his other firearm before realizing it wasn’t there, just in time to see Domino dislodge the clip and toss it and the gun in separate directions. Refusing to let himself be caught off guard, Jason grappled the smaller man, lunging forward to lock him in a tight hold. 

The man struggled against him, but Jason held fast, taking the opportunity to glance around the room. Ruin had pulled out some kind of wire or lightweight rope and had Robin somewhat tangled up in it as she dodged and parried his attacks, audibly taunting him. Renegade’s fighting style was nearly unrecognizable, and Jason smirked under his mask, although he furrowed his brows when he realized just how aggressively Nightwing was fighting in response. 

Shade, however, was running circles around Bruce. Jason watched, kind of astonished, before he felt a muscle seize in his arm, and his opponent escaped his hold, kicking his left foot onto the back of Jason’s knee, and reaching his left arm around the vigilante’s body to unlatch his helmet, somehow, without even looking. As the item was taken off, Jason’s right knee hit the floor, and all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. 

Jason tried to dislodge his attacker, but somehow the man had his arms pinned and twisted behind his body, and the cloth over his face only pressed tighter. Spots danced in his vision as he inhaled a familiar scent–chloroform, of all the fucking things–and Jason felt his eyes roll back in his head as everything faded to black. 

- - - 

Bruce heard the thud before he saw Red Hood hit the floor, Domino stepping out from behind him and shoving a cloth in his pocket. The man stalked forwards, and Bruce heard his pulse ringing in his ears as time began to slow. 

Domino countered the strike Bruce threw at him and tilted his head, his voice heavily modulated. 

“Really, Batman,” he remarked,  “I have to say, it’s an honour.”

Bruce struck at him again and the man caught his wrist. He pressed in close and whispered towards the side of his head, “It’s not every day you get to meet Gotham’s Knight and her Prince in one fell swoop.”

Batman froze, heart pounding, as behind him, Nightwing slammed to the ground.

- - - 

Roy tucked along the side of the wall, hoping that he was out of view of the security cameras. Oracle was probably watching the fight, but one could never be too careful. Prototypes were all well and good, but Kord Industries had other, older tech which was perfect for their needs, on another floor entirely from the anticipated target. 

Roy turned left and ran his fingers along the walls, tracing the numbers as he made his way to the correct storage room. He pulled a pin from his sleeve, jiggling the lock open, and pulled the handle down with a soft click . The door swung forward, and Roy bypassed the numerous crates in favour of the file cabinet on the wall, sliding out a drawer to rifle through a series of reference cards. 

He pulled out the card labelled Stabilisers: 07/16/18: 46a . “Work smarter not harder,” he murmured, smirking.

Roy crossed the room to the indicated crate, dragging out 46a from the pile of 46 ’s. 

He popped the lid, staring at the tech inside.

“Jackpot.”

- - - 

Bruce whirled around to see Nightwing on the ground, incapacitated by Shade standing over him. How had he let himself lose track of her? He glanced around to realize Renegade had already vanished, and suddenly, Domino was standing on the second floor balcony, arms spread out wide behind him. 

“You Bats are like dominoes,” he called, letting his hands illustrate his point. “You knock one over-” he flicked towards his mask “-and the rest of the pieces tumble into place.” 

Bruce tore his eyes away from the man’s mimed cascade in time to catch Shade slip her leg behind his knee and trip him to the ground. The lights flickered as he caught himself and stood back up, looking around to see all four anarchists now gone. Nightwing groaned, shuddering, and tried to sit up, rubbing his neck. 

Bruce whirled around to where Robin had untangled himself from his restraints.

“Nightwing. Stay here with Hood,” Bruce grunted out, harshly. “Robin. With me.”

The bird tore ahead of him, bursting into the lab with his mentor right behind him. 

Batman kept his voice low as he stared ahead at the maze of workstations. 

“Fan out. Find the vault.” 

He glanced around in the dark, hoping they weren’t too late.

“We have to get in there and stop them.”

- - - 

Jason disarmed the last of the security on the prototype, unlatching the lid to gaze upon their prize. The rest of the group’s diversion had been well worth it. These circuits were exactly what Roy needed for his device.

Jason glanced behind him as Bernard continued to pace, muttering to himself. He rolled his eyes. “Hey, superstrength, wanna give me a hand with these?”

Connor stepped forwards and grabbed the crate, upending its contents gently into a reinforced casing, and sifting through in search of trackers. “All clear,” he whispered, nodding once.

Bernard paused in his rambling to jerk his head up, glancing behind him to the safe door. “Did you hear that?”

- - - 

Tim’s fingers flew across the keypad as he detached his wrist computer from the safe’s electronic lock, inputting the code. Batman’s near-silent steps came to a rest behind him. 

“You’ve got it open?” his mentor murmured, keeping quiet. Tim nodded.

“Just about. Just give it one more pull-”

He yanked at the handle to the vault and it creaked open, revealing a dark room. Tim felt the breeze of Bruce’s cape flutter his hair as the man stalked past him into the vault. 

- - - 

Kon yanked his head up to hear what Bernard had noticed before him, more paranoid and unwilling to discard noise as belonging to the general hubbub of the city. “Shit! Sirens.” 

Jason shoved his tools back into his pocket, racing forward to open the vault door and careening out of the room. “Cops are here! We gotta go.”

Kon discarded the now empty crate and gripped their own container tighter, sprinting out after Bernard. “Go out the back! We can climb up the fire escape across the street, get to the roof!” 

Jason slammed into the push bar of the fire exit, forcing the door open and blocking it from closing on the other two before letting it shut behind him. Kon turned his head to see through the building, watching two Gotham Police Cruisers pull up in front of the WE building, Commissioner Gordon stepping out of the second car.

They’d gotten out just in time. 

- - - 

Bruce scanned his eyes around the vault and cursed, stalking forwards to where the prototype they’d been trying to defend sat untouched in its protective casing. 

The room was empty.

- - - 

Roy lifted his head as the back of the van slid open and four Resistance members tumbled inside, Cass catapulting over the console to perch in the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel, starting the car and pressing gently on the gas as he steered silently into nearby traffic. 

Tim pulled his mask off and exhaled, catching Roy’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Did you get it?”

“I got it”, Roy nodded, and jerked his head back to where the silencers were buried under the seat. The vigilantes let out a cheer, and Dick flopped down to the ground and fished around under his bag, pulling out a remote control.

He tapped it twice, their signal for “mission success”, and waited.

Dick called out, “Gotham team is in the clear!” at the double buzz they got in response, and Roy accelerated, joining in the resounding cheer as they left Kord Industries in the dust.

- - -