Chapter Text
Tim took in a deep breath of the Gotham air through his mouth and exhaled through his nostrils; it was the best way to breathe in this part of the city if you didn’t want the stench of burning sulphur and human excrement to stay with you for the next week.
He raised his camera, carefully aligning the grid with the city skyline. This alone would make an amazing picture, the dark sky against the even darker brick buildings. The rooftops were illuminated in glaring reds and twinkling yellows. It didn’t look pretty, Gotham was not a pretty city, but somehow it managed to look magical despite that.
Tim became increasingly aware of a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. It was speeding towards where his camera was aimed. Any moment now and…
Click.
Just as quickly as the figure had been there it was gone, the only trace to prove it being the image left on Tim’s camera.
He grinned down at it; Batman’s cape being tugged back by the wind as the harsh light illuminated one side of his cowl, Robin’s hair pushed back in a tousled manner and his green pixie boots sending puddles of water splashing upwards.
The action photos were the hardest. Tim had tonnes of the bats standing whilst they talked, investigated, or interrogated. He had far less of them moving, but now he had just captured another for his collection.
With the way they’d been running, Tim doubted he’d find them again that night and pretty soon night would become morning anyway, so he should probably start heading back.
He carefully made his way down the fire escape of the building, not wanting any more bruises from slipping on the wet steel.
Tim rounded the last set of stairs and was about to scale the ladder when he heard voices in the alley below.
He crouched, watching as a group of men made their way down the alley, stopping almost directly below the ladder. He caught a flash of a knife and found himself zeroing in on a pistol tucked into one of their belts.
This was bad.
He couldn’t leave now, they’d probably leave him broken in a dumpster, if not dead, simply for being here. He also couldn’t go back up to the roof of the building without drawing attention to himself. And to make things so much worse, there was no way Batman was in the area anymore.
It quickly became clear what was happening when one of the gangsters shoved another to the ground, their knees scraping against the rough gravel, and pushed a pistol to the back of their head.
This was an execution.
“You think we wouldn’t find out?” The man with the gun hissed. “You think you’d get away with rattling to the bats?”
“No!” The man choked down a sob. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to but he –”
“Silence.” The pistol man whacked his gun against the other man’s head.
Their chin rolled down, head hanging limply. Tim could only just make out the flickering of their eyes, they were barely conscious and pretty soon they wouldn’t even be that.
Maybe it was the ridiculous amounts of caffeine he’d had before coming out, or the fact he was seriously sleep-deprived, but Tim felt like he needed to do something.
This man had clearly given Batman information and now they would die for it. That hardly seemed fair, but even if it was, Tim had no intention of watching anyone get their brains blown out.
He glanced around the alley, eyes landing on a nearby dumpster which was overturned and spilling contents across the muddy pavement.
The thugs didn’t know Tim was there, they were too engrossed in whacking their victim as they mocked him.
If he had any chance of doing something he’d need a distraction. He reached into his backpack, pulling out a small metal object, a flash grenade. One he definitely hadn’t stolen from Batman. It was risky, but it might just buy him the few precious seconds he needed.
Tim carefully aimed to throw the grenade towards the dumpster at the far end of the alley, then activated it before letting it fly through the air.
The blinding light startled him despite the fact he’d been expecting it.
He had to blink several times before his vision stopped flickering white.
“It’s the Bat!” Someone was yelling.
He could hear shouting and the sound of heavy boots on the pavement as the men ran.
He stayed still, hugging his legs to his chest and just waiting until finally… the alley fell silent. Or almost silent, he could hear the sound of heavy breathing somewhere below him.
Tim glanced down to see the man from before on his hands and knees, sweat dripping down his forehead and his lips pulled back in a tight grimace.
"Are you okay?" Tim asked, jumping down from the fire escape.
The man startled, quickly scrambling to his feet, “You need to leave kid, the Bat –”
“Batman’s not here,” Tim replied, zipping his rucksack closed. “I threw the grenade.”
The man’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the shadows of the street, but then his expression softened as he realised Tim must be telling the truth.
“I owe you my life." He said, voice wavering slightly from the shock. “Not that that will mean much for long.”
“You think those men will come after you again?” Tim asked, cocking his head to one side.
The thug shook his head, “Not when they’ll think the Bat was here, but I can’t exactly get my old job back.”
“Job.” Tim echoed.
Suddenly an incredibly stupid plan was forming in his mind.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
The man hesitated, but then said, “Brick.”
Tim tried to maintain a professional face and not laugh, of course, this bald gangster with head tattoos and huge arms was called Brick. Typical.
“I know someone who might employ you,” Tim replied.
Brick narrowed his eyes, “Do you know many crime lords who take references from a child.”
“One,” Tim replied, pulling a pen and pad of paper out of his bag as he hastily wrote down a phone number. “And not from any children, specifically just me.”
“This you Dad or something?” Brick asked as he took the scrap of paper from Tim’s hand.
“Doesn’t matter,” Tim replied. “Call them. Tell them your name is Brick. I'll make sure they’re expecting you.”
“And who exactly is this mystery crime lord?” Brick asked, eyes flickering up from the paper to meet Tim’s own.
“Alvin.” Tim said simply, then realising that probably wasn’t enough he added, “Alvin Draper.”
If Brick realised it was Tim who picked up the phone when he rang later that evening he displayed no signs of it. Tim found himself drawing up a contract stating Brick couldn’t work for any other criminal organisations whilst under Draper’s employment and that he’d receive a sum of cash at the end of each month regardless of whether he’d been required to work or not.
At first, Brick seemed suspicious, but he hadn’t backed out, probably because he had no other choice.
Suddenly Tim had his very own henchmen on a payroll, not that he intended to use Brick for anything. He was a twelve-year-old boy, not a crime lord.
Tim peered over the ledge of the rooftop he was crouched on, watching the street below. The Bats seemed to visit Crime Alley quite regularly and Tim wasn’t sure if it was a tribute to Bruce’s dead parents, a nod to Jason’s past, or simply because there was so much crime.
He watched intently for any signs of a struggle or the quick flip of a cape as a Bat tore down the street.
There was nothing.
Just the tinny sound of music from the grubby club on the neighbouring street and the noise of working girls calling out to the people passing by. Whilst he could hear the occasional threat being yelled, and the thunk of fists against flesh, there was nothing out of the ordinary occurring in Crime Alley that would warrant Batman’s attention…
There was a sudden scream from the end of the alley and Tim’s head snapped around to see two incredibly buff men pulling a blonde-haired girl by the arms. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving track marks in her makeup, as she attempted to pull herself free to no avail.
Tim felt himself paling as he realised he recognised that face, he’d seen multiple times before at galas and high society events.
Sofia Garcia; businesswoman, competition for Drake industries, mayor’s daughter, and current kidnappee.
This was not good.
Tim could just assume it would all be okay, and Batman would find her eventually, but statistically, Batman dealt with individual kidnapping far less than other, larger-scale, crimes.
Except maybe he’d do something if he received specific information.
Tim raised his camera, making sure the shutter was on silent and snapping a photo of the scene. He could take it to Batman, leaving it anonymously of course, and give him the incentive to act.
For a full five seconds that was the plan, but then Tim had another thought, and this one was far less rational.
Tim had a henchman, had done so for two months now, and hadn’t had any use for him. Maybe it was slightly selfish to deal with this situation himself and whilst at it ensure Sofia’s company wouldn’t be a threat to Drake Industries, but technically it was still helping her. Besides, if she refused he’d still let her go, so it wasn’t even proper blackmail.
He pulled out his burner phone and took another photo of the trio as the two men shoved Sofia into the back of a van, making sure to get the numberplate in the shot. Then he found Brick’s contact, the only contact, and hit send.
‘Locate and secure Sofia Garcia. Avoid harming her. Make sure she ends her partnership with Wayne enterprise, then deliver her back at Bristol.’ He wrote.
He wasn’t sure if that would pass well for an order or if he was supposed to do it in person. He also wasn’t sure if Brick was supposed to let him know he was on it or keep him updated. They didn’t exactly teach you to be a crime lord in school, which Tim was beginning to find extremely unhelpful.
He waited for the van to leave before making his way down the building and heading home. The whole journey his heart was beating uncontrollably in his chest, and he could hear the blood pumping past his ears.
Brick better be good at his job, or else Tim was about to feel really guilty.
Tim woke up the next morning to two messages on his burner phone.
One was from Brick and read, ‘Done.’
The second was from an unknown number. Tim sucked in a sharp breath as he read it.
‘Tony here. Brick mentioned you might be lookin for some muscle to handle business. I can get my hands dirty for the right price.’
When Tim had hired Brick it had been out of sympathy. Besides, he’d been the reason Brick was now too associated with Batman for any other crime bosses to hire him. He’d put the guy out of a job, even if it was an illegal job.
Tim’s intention had never been to build his own army of thugs, he should probably reply and tell Tony to find a job working for some other criminal, or better yet; not reply at all.
But then if Tony did work for another criminal there’d be one extra thug out there potentially hurting people, whereas if he worked for Tim that wouldn’t be the case.
Tim knew this was a bad idea and would appear to be an even worse one in hindsight, but his mind was already made up.
He texted Tony the same agreement he’d made with Brick; you can’t work for other crime organisations, you get money at the end of the month, you drop everything to obey whatever orders I send you.
Once that was done he grabbed his normal phone and quickly scrolled through the news in search of any information on Sofia Garcia’s kidnapping and hopefully her return but there was nothing. He began to feel faint as he considered all the way Brick may have misinterpreted the mission objective.
Hands shaking, he found Sofia’s social media.
There was a story.
A story that had been posted within the last hour.
It contained Sofia sitting by a café window in what was clearly uptown Bristol holding a matcha latte. The only sign anything had happened was a slight red mark showing beneath her sleeve, probably only noticeable if you were looking for it.
Tim breathed a sigh of relief.
The next day came news that Wayne Enterprises had lost one of its most supporting companies as a partner and three more messages on the burner phone.
Nightwing was back in Gotham. Nightwing as in the original Robin, Tim hero, and his first (and only) hug. Seeing as Nightwing operated mainly in Bludhaven Tim had very few photos of him and that made this too good an opportunity to miss.
Except Nightwing was hard to locate, the other bats had regular patrols which helped him find them, but whenever Nightwing was visiting he tended to go solo.
Within seven hours of seeing Dick Grayson in Gotham courtesy of the news Tim had already arranged a plan and he was fairly certain it wasn’t arrogant to say it was genius if he was telling the truth.
It was a genius plan.
Slightly illegal, but then technically so was dressing up in spandex to fight crime (the crime part, not the spandex).
So, he made a few phone calls using his burner phone and a voice adaptor to make him sound older and got to work hacking the Bat computer. It wasn’t a hard task, or at least it wasn’t now this was his second time doing it. The first had just been out of curiosity and had taken him several weeks, and whilst the defences had improved Tim found himself getting in within a further eleven hours.
By the time his men were prepped, and the message left Tim had been running on caffeine for two days straight. He pretty quickly collapsed in bed and slept a full eight hours, which was a record for him.
Another night, another rooftop.
Except this time Nightwing’s presence was practically guaranteed. He’d left a message requesting Nightwing’s presence, and Nightwing's presence alone, at the warehouse opposite his current hiding spot.
He wasn’t naive enough to believe Nightwing would attend alone, but he knew the request was certain to catch their attention as if the fact he’d left it on the Bat computer wasn’t enough already.
His men (Tim still couldn’t get his head around the fact he had men) should draw the bat's attention and let Tim get some pretty good shots of them fighting. Of course, he wasn’t a total monster, the thugs had been informed the bats were likely to show up and told they’d be acting as a decoy for a bigger operation (they just weren’t aware said operation was Tim taking photos).
They got paid, and he got great shots, so as far as Tim was concerned everybody was happy.
The sound of gunshots rang out and Tim hastily raised his camera, aiming it at the window. A burst of movement and flash of blue caught his eye and Tim carefully focused his lens, fingers poised over the shutter button.
Suddenly Nightwing was darting past the window and Tim was slamming his finger down against the button.
There was the echoing sound of the camera shuttering. Tim looked down to see the empty window on the screen.
He cursed under his breath, raising it to get another shot.
He waited for another shot, wincing slightly at the sound of fists meeting flesh.
Click.
One of Batman throwing a thug.
Click.
One of Batman punching a different thug in the back.
Click.
One of Nightwing pulling a thug down as he kicks another in the head mid-flip.
A triumphant cry escaped his lips as his eyes lingered on the photo. It was absolutely beautiful, not the cleanest he’d ever taken but he could certainly fix that later.
When he finally looked back up at the warehouse the night was silent and there was no sign of the bats or his men. He seriously hoped they’d not been too hurt, he didn’t have many concerns about them serving jail time when their only crime had been attacking two illegal vigilantes, it's not like they had any illegal information on them for Batman to retrieve.
With a satisfied smile, Tim clicked the lens filter back onto his camera and let it hang around his neck. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over one shoulder, preparing to make his way down the building and head home.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime kid?”
Tim froze.
He knew that voice, that perfect modulated voice. It had come from behind him, so perhaps if rather than turning 180 degrees he just turned 90 and ran to the other side of the roof he could make it down the second fire escape. He was aware running from Nightwing was pretty stupid, but if Dick recognised him everything would be over.
Tim sprinted to his left, moving as fast as he could until he wasn’t.
He slammed against a hard surface with a small scream and took an unstable step backwards. His eyes lifted upwards to meet two white eyes glaring down at him.
Not only was Nightwing here, but Tim had also just run face-first into Batman.
He took another step back; feeling his legs beginning to shake and prickles of fear rising in his cheeks. He probably looked wide-eyed and pale and like a pathetic cornered kitten right now, the idea of which just made him feel worse.
“What are you doing here, kid,” Batman demanded, but his voice wasn’t as rough as Tim knew it could be. “It’s not safe.”
“Nothing!” He said far too quickly. “I was just heading home.”
Batman looked unconvinced, his eyes drifting down to the camera around his neck.
“I was just taking some photos. I’m leaving now.” Tim said, but his frozen legs were preventing him from following through.
“That’s one pretty expensive camera for an alley kid,” Nightwing said, taking several steps towards Tim and then crouching down to get a better look.
It was very expensive, the best for night and action photography. Not the sort of thing the alley kid he was dressed as would normally set eyes on, let alone own.
“I didn’t steal it.” Tim had to put all his effort into keeping his voice steady. “I’m not a criminal.”
Technically one of those was a lie.
“Can I see?” Nightwing asked, smiling reassuringly.
Tim so badly wanted to say no, except that was the most suspicious thing he could do in this situation. Besides, a tiny part of him wanted Dick to see the photo he’d taken because he was so pleased with it and fed up with not having anyone to complement his skills.
Besides, the camera only had photos of them in action that night and then some of the Gotham cityscape he’d taken on his way over. He wasn’t stupid enough to go out with old photos of the bats on his memory card in case he lost it.
He tentatively handed the camera over.
Nightwing straightened up and Batman moved to look over his shoulder.
For a few long minutes, the clicking of buttons was the only sound, and then Nightwing sighed.
“We’re gonna have to delete those, aren’t we?” He asked, looking up at Batman.
Batman nodded; his eyes still fixed on the screen.
“No!” Tim cried. “I need them, please -”
He was cut off by an expression he’d only ever seen on Batman’s face when one of the Robins got hurt; lips pulled back in a thin line only just tipping downwards. Batman was worried about him. Why was Batman worried about him?
“Are you working for someone?” Batman asked.
Tim vigorously shook his head, too terrified to speak. He was pretty certain he was the one being interrogated now.
“You can talk to us, kid, we want to help,” Nightwing said, crouching down once again.
Tim shook his head again, whispering, “I’m not working for anyone. I swear.”
Dick narrowed his eyes, once again looking at Bruce as if asking for permission. There was a quick hand movement from the Bat, so fast Tim almost missed it, but it must have been a sign of approval.
“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to tell the truth for me. Is that okay?” Nightwing asked softly.
Tim nodded.
“Have you heard of Alvin Draper before?”
Before he could stop himself Tim was taking in a sharp breath that sounded almost pained.
One of his men must have talked, he supposed that’s what you got when you hire anyone who’s interested, but it still hurt. Maybe he should create proper profiles on all of them once this is done so he can deduce who’s trustworthy and who isn’t.
“No,” Tim said, although he was aware how obviously it was a lie.
“We can make sure you don’t get in trouble, that you’re safe, but we need you to tell us what you know,” Nightwing said, a layer of hurt in his eyes.
Tim supposed he could tell them everything, but then he’d have to also say he knew their civilian identities and then they’d take his camera and probably brainwash him so he forgot everything. He couldn’t lose Batman and Robin; they were the things that kept him going when his parents were away for months at a time.
So instead of explaining the truth Tim decided to lie even more.
“It's not my safety I’m worried about.” He replied. “You don’t want to go after Alvin Draper.”
"Why not?" It was Batman who asked the question this time.
Tim took in a deep breath, trying to appear scared or at least slightly shaken by the name, “He’s not like other crime lords. You don’t want to mess with him, he’s dangerous.”
Batman's voice was low and intense. "We deal with dangerous people every night.”
Tim's heart pounded in his chest. He needed to convince them not to pursue him, or at the very least make it seem Alvin Draper is a very real crime lord and not a twelve-year-old boy.
"He’s different. There’s a reason you’ve only just heard of him, he’s good. I mean bad! I mean, he’s good at being bad.” The words kept racing out his mouth involuntarily.
“Do you work for him?” Nightwing asked, reaching out to squeeze Tim’s hand reassuringly.
Tim’s mouth dropped open in shock at the contact. Nightwing’s hand felt so good in his own, so warm. He squeezed it tighter, not wanting to let go,
“Draper doesn’t hire kids.” Tim replied, then in an attempt to get them off his case he added, “I don’t know much more than that.”
Nightwing angled his head up and closed his eyes as if he was beginning to get a headache. Tim really hoped he wasn’t the reason; he was enjoying holding Dick’s hand and he didn’t want him to let go.
“I’m sorry,” Tim said.
He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for annoying Nightwing, not being able to give them any information, or even for being Alvin Draper himself. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them.
Batman sighed, but it sounded more out of exhaustion than frustration, “That’s okay, kid. Do you have somewhere safe to go?”
“I have a home.” Tim nodded a little too enthusiastically. “It’s near here, you don’t have to worry.”
Batman and Nightwing exchanged a glance, evidentially communicating with their eyes. Tim felt a pang of guilt for lying to his heroes but telling the truth was way too risky. He wasn’t sure if he was technically classified as a crime lord now and so would end up in Arkham, but he had no intentions of finding out.
"Alright, but if you hear anything else about Draper you go straight to the police," Nightwing said, giving Tim's hand one last reassuring squeeze before releasing it.
Tim's hand suddenly felt cold and strange in his absence. He nodded, trying not to look too disappointed.
Nightwing lifted the camera back up, his finger hovering over the buttons.
“Wait!” Tim suddenly said.
Two pairs of eyes were locked on him again.
“Don’t delete it.” He begged. “You can take the memory card if you want and keep it, but that’s the best photo I’ve taken in such a long time. Please don’t delete it.”
“You’d give us the card?” Batman narrowed his eyes.
Tim suddenly remembered it was suspicious enough an alley kid would own a camera like that, let alone give parts of it away.
“You could give it back.” He suggested. “Take the photos off and then leave it somewhere on this roof for me to find.”
Batman looked at him, his eyes assessing, but then his expression softened, and he nodded. He took the camera from Nightwing and ejected the memory card.
“Okay, kid.” He said, tucking the card into a pouch of his belt. “Now you need to get home. This is no place for a child.”
“Of course, thank you, Batman!” Tim said, trying not to smile too much.
He hurried down the fire escape, leaving the two vigilantes on the rooftop. He may have just lost his best photo, but he also knew Batman and Nightwing had seen it and clearly thought it was good. He wondered if they would hang it anywhere in Wayne Manor or wherever it was Batman operated from.