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Chapter Text

Thursday, Nov. 6 

11:30 PM, Gotham City

You pushed the drunk stranger of the night up against the alleyway wall and sank your fangs into their neck.

It was a cold, windy night, so hardly anyone was out. It was your perfect chance to grab a snack.

You had done it thousands of times, so it was entirely muscle memory at that point. You couldn’t make it any rougher than an ordinary, playful neck bite- which was something you had beaten into your mind so thoroughly you'd have to try to mess it up.

One slip up could give you away.

This wasn’t a game to you, nor was it something you took pleasure in doing. But you didn’t really have any other choice. You gently sucked the blood that welled to the surface of their skin. You could feel it warming up your body.

The stranger almost broke your concentration when their hands roamed around your back. You had the sense to wear fleece underlayers, so they couldn’t feel your cold, lifeless skin through your cloak. But you still weren’t a fan of how touchy they were getting. You weren't interested in going as far as they thought they wanted to in their inebriated state, so you began the subtle string of actions you performed whenever it was time to wrap things up. Actions you had perfected over years. 

You dragged your lips over their skin to pick up any remaining blood, waited a moment, then without warning, you roughly clawed your fingertips into their shoulders. Not hard enough to leave an injury, just enough to shock them still. It worked beautifully that night, so you took advantage of their prolonged stillness and slipped out of the back alley.

You didn’t have to check to know you had done it perfectly, a bite so subtle and placed so perfectly it was nearly invisible.

Whenever you went hunting you wore a shawl that covered the upper half of your face. It hid your identity well, and you found out over time it made people more drawn to you. Humans are often seduced by mystery.

Especially drunk humans with little to no self-preservation. 

Who were ideal for your method of survival.

And then, when you were finished, their faces always left your mind as soon as they left your vision. None of them were ever more than blood donors to you. You strolled back through the city, following the familiar sidewalk that led you to the dreary place where you spent most of your time.

Just over two years back, some security guard had told you about the abandoned basement of the decently popular nightclub. Just by looking at the place, you could tell that he was right. By the looks of it no one had been down there for at least a decade. So you tidied it up the best you could, dragged in an old mattress, and scrounged up money until you could afford to go to a thrift shop and buy everything you needed to maintain hygiene and sleep comfortably at night. It had been your home ever since.

Of course it was still a cold, filthy place crawling with spiders- but the dreary atmosphere wasn’t particularly an issue for you.

You ignored the main entrance of the club, your way of getting in was through the back. You could feel the deep bass vibrating the ground with each step you took. There was a steep slope at the side of the building, and then the heavy black door in the back that led to the basement.

Upon entering there was a low ceiling and smooth concrete walls and floors, the type that could never be properly cleaned once dirtied. It was mostly empty, save your mattress, which you unceremoniously fell face-first into as soon as you could. It would be midnight soon, an early time to go to sleep by vampire standards, but you always tended to run on an earlier schedule than most. 

For a normal person, your situation was abysmal. But you were not a normal person, and for your purposes, it was perfect.  

11:56 PM

Things were abnormally quiet in Arkham Asylum, no sounds above gentle murmuring. They wouldn’t stay that way. Some of the residents had found ways to communicate with the men that worked for them on the outside, intricately weaving plans that would give them back their freedom. There was trial and error to it, but that night the guards were just tired enough, the warden was just distracted enough, and the patients were just desperate enough for the perfect escape.

Chapter Text

Friday, Nov. 7, 7:45 PM

The music they played in the club was always such a headache to you. Your spot in the basement was basically sound proofed; so it wasn’t present down there, but on the nights where you decided on a snack inside the club, you had to venture up. Ever since you had woken up that morning, you had been bored out of your mind. You did have plans that night, but until then you had just over an hour to kill. You made your way up the stairs and through the door that led from your completely secluded area to a sort of secluded area. The dark purgatory where music could be faintly heard and people would occasionally wander through in search of the bathroom. If your quiet cave of isolation was heaven, the clubroom would be hell.

The place was obnoxiously loud, bright, and entirely over the top. People swarmed in on Fridays and Saturdays, making it easy to find someone to snatch up without having to go too far in. Luckily for you, that day you didn’t have to go in at all. A man of an average height and a lean stature slipped through the door into your view. It was hard to make out much about his appearance with just the neon hues of the club to backlight him. What happened next was normal for you, a hazy series of actions stemming from your hunger for blood and his apparent lust and willingness to follow your lead. You had him backed against a wall, hands caressed the back of his head, carding through his smooth hair as he gripped weakly onto your hips. Your lips were together, and he kissed back with an intensity that made you feel like he was trying to become one with you. 

You pulled away from his face to press kisses to his neck, readying him for the bite, but at that moment, an annoying beeping sound could be heard. In an instant, the man’s entire demeanour had morphed; he straightened up and took his hands off you to reach into his pocket for his phone, which was soon illuminating his face with a cold blue light. You took a close look at him from the small amount of vision you had under your hood. He had jet black hair, a smooth pale face; now reddened and sweaty, and light piercing eyes. He looked annoyed, similar to how you felt, but concentration was also etched into his pretty face. Even for someone like you, living about as close to “under a rock” as you could be, he was hard not to recognize. Tim Wayne. Tim Drake? Tim Drake-Wayne. You had seen him on television, in newspapers, and billboards. His face took on an emotionless mask before he shut off his phone and turned away, opening the door and briefly letting in the bright lights before he was gone. No words exchanged.

You were left standing dumbfounded, and not entirely sure how to feel. After a couple seconds, you settled on amusement. You had successfully lured a beautiful billionaire into your arms, just to be unsuccessful at obtaining his blood. Not only that, but he had given you a taste of your own medicine, leaving you alone just before you got what you wanted. You would not forget about that anytime soon. You slunk back to the basement, getting ready to make your own departure. You grabbed your phone from its charger to check for the location of tonight’s meeting place, and pushed past the door to the outside world to begin your trek.

The Colony was a group of vampires that resided in Gotham city, the only people you had ever known who shared in the same misery and isolation as you. Five, including yourself, and each of you from different times and places. It could be said that your vampirism was the only thing any of you had in common, but with that came the knowledge that you all needed to stay together if you were going to survive. The way you fed when you did it alone, subtle and taking so little that it wouldn’t be noticed; was not enough to survive off of. Your real meals you had with the Colony; finding crimes committed in groups, alerting vigilante justice of their actions, and waiting for the perfect moment to feed as much as you could before the police took them away. It was a plan that would be doomed to fail anywhere but Gotham city. But there, it thrived, and it kept you alive.

9:02 PM

Tim did not often get nights off. In fact, he scheduled that night specifically to be his night off, two weeks in advance. So of course, on the one night he had pre-planned to be a normal person and let his guard down, the universe suckerpunched him straight in the nose and told him to get serious. He had learned, only while he was in the middle of a borderline life-changing makeout session with a hooded stranger in a club, that there was a breakout at Arkham Asylum the night prior. Tim did not have many nights dedicated to partying because he liked being a vigilante. He liked sleuthing around and punching bad guys and being the hero. But he only liked it on his terms. He didn’t ask for much, but he always found himself getting screwed over.

He pulled into the garage at the Theater on Park Row, his home, and sprinted as quickly as he could into his lair; which was nearly as showy as the batcave, but with none of the colorful characters that came with it. Tim convinced himself he didn’t mind the solitude. He suited up in his Red Robin costume, which Alfred had made him a couple years back, and slipped in his earpiece that allowed him to communicate with the Oracle before slipping on his cowl and going on his way.

“Batman and Robin just went in,” Oracle’s voice rang in his right ear, “They should be able to hold them off until you get there.”

 He silently navigated through the city’s underground tunnels to his many hidden exits, and in a matter of minutes found himself just where he wanted to be. It was a pretty windy day, so he made haste grappling to the top of the nearest skyscraper. Once he was up, he grabbed hold of his cape and jumped; spreading his arms wide and allowing himself to glide through the city. 

He always loved nights with a strong enough gust to float on, not that it completely made up for messing with his night off, but it soothed the blow a bit. He dodged and swerved through the Gotham architecture with the skill of someone who had done it hundreds of times, until he had arrived at the address he had been texted. 

“I’m here” Tim grumbled, sounding a bit more petulant than he had intended. He hoped Babs hadn’t noticed, but when she failed to respond it confirmed she had.

Tim cased the building from the outside, and decided the best way to get in was the main entrance. He walked silently in the shadows, staying close to walls, until he could see the action. Dick and Damian worked together better than ever, but even with their combined skill, they were just about on par with the amount of men in the room. Tim saw one in the beginning stages of pouncing on Batman, and decided to make his first move. Dick was more than capable of handling him, but Tim always liked making a dramatic entrance. Now that he was there, the trio were easily able to make quick work of knocking the men out and tying them up. They headed onto the roof to alert the GCPD and keep watch so no stragglers could sneak out of the place. 

“So,” Dick’s voice cut through the air, “What’ve you been up to lately?” Tim didn’t register his question. It had been nearly four years since Dick had taken on the mantle of Gotham’s Batman, and Tim still wasn’t used to it. Being Batman wasn’t just wearing Bruce’s costume, it was adopting his mannerisms. And Tim, seeing Dick standing still and quiet and serious, it was unsettling. He was unfortunately pulled back to reality by an annoying voice.

“He has been up to nothing. He has no life.” Dick shot him a stern look. Tim thought that once Damian came back from working with the Teen Titans he’d have improved his people skills a bit. Damian continued to prove him wrong. Tim totally had a life. He was just about to cut in to talk about the night he was having when the police showed up. Whatever. Maybe he should’ve kept that to himself anyways. The vigilantes come down to the pavement in front of the building to debrief. The current chief of police sauntered up to speak with them. These guys got scared off, blackmailed, and replaced so often Tim didn’t even bother to learn their names anymore. But he had this guy’s dumb face committed to memory simply because he just didn’t like him. 

He mostly tuned out of the conversation, catching that Batman and Robin were alerted via anonymous tip to the police, vague on what was going on but clear that it would be the Riddler’s men up to no good. Tim decided to make himself useful and see if he could find out what was going on. Maybe he’d get lucky and find out where the Riddler was hiding. He walked, silent and confident as always, back into the room where the men were. His eyes swept over them, then he froze and re-examined. One man, whose back was towards tim, had fresh blood soaked into his shirt just next to his collar. He knew it wasn’t his, Dick’s, or Damian’s doing so he walked closer to get a better look. The stain was not large, just two pools of blood each about the size of a dime. Upon examination, multiple other men all had blood on their collars in the same spot on the side of their neck. Tim kneeled beside one and unfastened his top button to get a look underneath. 

Two punctures in the neck. No darts in sight, they look like bites, but too big to be from spiders or snakes. He checked another guy, still the two punctures, although this pair were a bit smaller, shallower. Tim stood to observe the room, he found nothing. Interesting. He went back outside to deliver the news to BatDick, who seemed equally intrigued by the concept. 

“I believe we have a vampire problem.” Dick said in a playful tone, knelt over the men. Tim had thought it as well, of course, but obviously that was out of the realm of possibilities. 

10:30 PM

Tim was back in his lair, the top floor to be exact, where his crime lab and nearly-comical nine foot supercomputer monitor were located. He was seated there now, searching for any security camera footage that could have caught the incident. He thought he hit the jackpot when he found out the building they were in had interior cameras, grainy as they were. When he rewound the footage, he watched it cut to black shortly after the Riddler’s lackeys had arrived. Fast-forwarding to the current moment, he found the cameras had never been fixed. Was it a set-up?

He moved on to researching the bites, which mostly yielded fake junk, but after hours of sifting; he found a dozen images from Gotham that looked nearly identical to the ones the investigators took earlier that night. Most of them were posted in the last couple years or so, generally from bigger men. He also managed to find a couple archived from old defunct forums. Tim was certain at this point he could rule out animals, it had to be a group of some sort. If the seven men with bite marks from that night were anything to go off of, they must have been a pretty big bunch. Maybe some sort of vampire worshipping cult. Wouldn’t have been the first time. He catalogued the information and notified Oracle of what he found. He was sure she would be as interested as he and Dick were. 

Interested as he was, however, he had to focus on the task at hand. The Arkham escapees were planning something, probably something that involved endangering innocent civilians. The vampire stuff was just not of the same caliber. He sighed and got to work, virtually stalking around Gotham city. 

Chapter Text

Saturday, Nov. 8, 1:54 PM

Most vigilantes rarely fought crime in the light of day, and when they did; they stuck to the shadows and stayed mostly undetectable. That wasn’t going to work that day. Most villains seemed to have the same idea, get to work making a mess of things early on the weekend. Huntress and Black Canary had reportedly had to stop Killer Croc and Poison Ivy at five in the morning. Spoiler and Black Bat got a bit luckier, not having to deal with Scarab until 8am, by then the sun had set and warmed the city up a bit. Batman and Robin were decidedly the unluckiest that weekend, stuck with running around and stopping all the civilian crimes that sprang up in the commotion. Red Robin, however, was the luckiest. He didn’t have to wake up until noon, and he was downright giddy awaiting the arrival of the Knight and Squire.

Everyone knew Red Robin and Squire operated well together; they could practically read each other’s minds. It was the obvious choice, he had argued to Dick the night prior over text. Dick agreed and asked them to fly out for the weekend. Tim should call her more often, he thought.

“Heard you asked for me?” Squire’s playful tone cut through the air. Tim had flung himself through the air with his grappling hook as soon as he heard her voice, knowing she would follow suit. The duo looked odd together, Red Robin’s serious-looking red, black, and gold attire next to Squire’s loud yellow top, striped tights, and ridiculous hat.

“Riddler’s up to something in Crime Alley,” Tim started catching her up, “Cops interrogated one of his guys, he told them where he’s hiding, but nothing else. I think he’s peddling experimental drugs.”

“Anyone else think it’s drugs?” They arrived at the address Oracle gave them. A room on the second story of some run-down brownstone apartment complex.

“Batman’s thinking explosives.”

“Guess we’ll just ‘ave to prepare for explosive drugs then.”

Tim broke down the door and the two Vigilantes bolted through. The room was empty, apart from the riddler in a chair faced away from them, and the wooden boxes stacked to the ceiling. When he turned around, Tim half expected him to be stroking a cat. His face looked quite smug, but once he made eye contact, his nose wrinkled up and a pronounced frown settled on his face.

“What? Who are you people?” He was inquisitive as always. The duo used his apparent confusion to their advantage, Squire rushed to hold his chair in place and Tim delivered a swift blow to his temple. Squire shoved the chair forward and the Riddler landed face first on the floor, hat tumbling off to reveal his receding hairline. Tim grabbed him and held him tight, despite his kicking and screaming. “It was supposed to be Batman!”

“Batman's busy, and we're not playing your games.” Squire responded with a smirk. They dropped Riddler off at a prison not too far from there, and Tim felt great. Being perfectly in sync with someone made life feel easy; almost too easy. When they went back to investigate the boxes, he felt a lot less great. They were filled with vials of fear toxin. The Riddler was just one half of the operation. 

Sunday, Nov. 9, 4:00 AM

Scarecrow was still out there.

Tim sat in his hidden apartment, bright light from the screens surrounding him illuminated his desk and lightly burned his eyes. Or maybe that burn was from going too long without blinking. Whatever, He had decided this was his case to work on, and got no arguments against that. That was why he was there, running his self-coded facial recognition software. Looking for Jonathon Crane; with no results. For the moment, he was helpless. Fortunately, he had tools at his disposal that allowed him to claw his way out and put himself in control. 

He typed a message for Lonnie Machin, his personal info hacker. Lonnie was once a foe by the name of Anarky, who sought to overthrow the government and enact his own plans for Gotham. That changed, however, when he was captured and poisoned by a man who overtook the Anarky persona. Lonnie was left in a coma, only able to use his brain to communicate digitally and access the internet. Tim had saved him, and they started working together as a force for good. Tim went to Lonnie anytime he needed help with stuff more advanced than his own, already impressive, technical knowhow.

Redbird: Can u set up a fake event for scarecrow’s guys? Need a bunch of them in 1 spot.

MoneySpider: yes. when?

Redbird: Wednesday.

Moneyspider: done.

Monday, Nov. 10, 11:00 PM

You had been waiting in the dark, narrow alley for about an hour, but the expected guests never showed. Disappointed and hungry, the colony headed back to their meeting spot. Ian’s van. 

Ian had been the most tech savvy of the vampires, pulling his weight finding online announcements for illegal activity. More impressively, he had made each of you your own phones. The phones allowed you to send messages and see each other's locations. You mostly kept to yourselves apart from the meetings, but the phones were useful for making plans.

Since Ian had been the one to find out about the plan that night, and it had been a complete bust, he was determined to find another for the coming days. So while he looked through online inner circles; the group of you sat around in the mostly empty, save for a few seating options, space in the body of the van. 

“Is Wednesday good for everyone?” He suddenly asked, “There’s something going on then. Doesn’t say what it is, but it’s Scarecrow’s guys so things could get bad.”

With the way the Colony had operated, when crime activity went up, so did yours. You guys had been successfully feeding as a group upwards of three times a week at that point, so needless to say you had all gotten a bit cocky. The risk for scarecrow related plans was high, but you collectively decided it would be worth it; agreeing to meet up in a couple days.

Tuesday, Nov. 11, 5:48 PM

You cracked open your door just a bit to make sure the sun had fully set. Once your mind was at ease, you stepped into the sweetly chilled Gotham evening. That night you had decided to go a route lesser travelled by you, and from the looks of it, by everyone else too. Rubble and debris covered the streets, although it was probably a more recent development, with all the destruction this past week.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by an ominous staircase that led underground, to a wooden door that was slightly cracked open. You trekked down the steps to investigate, and found yourself in a place so old and dusty that your eyes started watering. You could see what little moonlight shone through the clouds and past the stairs reflecting on a chain in front of you dangling from the ceiling. You pulled, and light flickered on from above. It was an old place, auburn paint peeling off the walls, dusty cardboard boxes, and an antique table in the middle of the room. Something about the place had set you on edge. You noted that if you ever found yourself taking this route again, it could be a nice spot to take your prey when you needed privacy. Other than that scenario, you were sure you wanted nothing else to do with this place. 

You went back home, bored and hungry. It was always nice to go out and feel the moonlight against your skin, but staying in the club was more likely to yield you a snack. Even with the smaller crowd of typically older folks before nine on a weeknight.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, Nov. 12, 3:15 PM

You found yourself awake before the sun had set. It was a normal occurrence for you, but you still had yet to find anything to do with that sliver of time before it was safe for you to go outside. That day your body was tired, so you decided to just lay and think. Think of a life where you were human, or better yet, a life where vampires and humans could coexist peacefully with the knowledge of each other’s existence. A world where vampires could do things in the daytime, get money in a normal way, and have human friends without fear of their secret being revealed. Alas, it would never happen. You were all destined for misery.

6:30 PM

You didn’t even realize you had drifted into the world of your thoughts until the ping from your phone roped you out of them. You got ready for the night, the air around you was thick with woe that weighed down your shoulders. You walked the way to the warehouse, it appeared to be on the newer end of structures you had been to lately. You silenced your phone, and checked to make sure all of the other Colony members were there. Satisfied, you snuck in through the shadows as you normally would, climbing up the square stairwell to the top, where there was a spot perfect for viewing each floor. You settled next to the first of your friends you could find. Ben, or Ebenezer, if you wanted to get on his nerves, was the biggest member of the Colony. He looked like a Stretch Armstrong toy that had come to life. He greeted you politely, it was his nature, and the two of you watched from the shadows of the uppermost floor over the  hired men who bunched in on the first.

Something was odd about them, they were confused and lacking direction. There were no discernable leaders or people of a higher status to guide them. Across from you on the other side of the balcony stood Ian and Lex, the latter being so small you wouldn’t have even noticed her had she been alone. Ian's presence comforted you a bit, knowing that meant he had already checked for and disabled any cameras, but the comfort was shallow. You thought everyone in the building seemed equally tense, until you heard a crisp and confident voice ring out.

“Nobody move!” Contrary to what had been said, each Colony member backed quickly and silently away from the railings of the balcony and into the shadows against the walls. Invisible among the empty storage shelves. Scarecrow’s jumble of men could be heard also not following the order, panicking and scrambling about.

“The building’s on lockdown. No one leaves, no one enters.” Suddenly Red Robin dropped down to stand balanced on the railing, and a chill ran down your spine. Had he seen you? If he had, you weren’t his primary concern. He jumped down and landed on the first floor with a soft thud. It seemed like each Colony member agreed on one thing at that moment, get the hell out of there. You and Lex had the same idea, checking the windows, only to find that they didn’t open. Whatever was going on down on the first floor, you had stopped paying attention to, but breaking the windows would likely have been a terrible idea. You ran through the first door you could find, leading into a hallway where you found Ian in the middle of crawling through a vent. You went past him and searched each new room you could find, no luck with ways out. The rooms themselves were quite creepy, some full of empty shelves, and others completely empty.

After about thirty minutes your adrenaline ran out, and you realized trying to escape would be futile. So you went back to the balcony to wait for Red Robin to leave, then maybe you could follow him out. You were just in time to watch him on the tail end of knocking the men out cold with Ebenezer. They had all been tied up in bunches. What Red Robin had done with them in the meantime you weren’t sure, but you didn’t particularly care. You and Ebenezer split up to gather the rest of your Colony members and lead them back through the labyrinth of halls. The five of you, all united for the first time that night, watched as Red Robin called the police then swiftly left the place. 

That was your cue to feed. You all made your way down to the men, eager to make up for Monday night’s disappointment. You sank your fangs deep above the large man’s shoulderblade, his blood dripped out for you to collect in your mouth. You managed to bleed two men just about dry before you heard sirens nearing, when you all silently crept back into the night. The reward was well worth the scare.

9:09 PM

Tim’s night had gone great. Lonnie’s trap worked beautifully, there were plenty of Scarecrow’s men there. After he tied them up and they all settled down, he got some answers out of them that he really was just not expecting. Tim had gotten the exact address where scarecrow was staying; he didn’t even have to search, they had just told him when he asked! He was in the middle of digitally casing the place when he got a message from Oracle. 

When the police found Scarecrow's men, they found them with bites. The vampire bites. Tim had completely forgotten all about that, he scrambled to pull up the camera footage from a couple hours ago. Lonnie had set the meeting in an unlabeled Wayne Enterprises warehouse that had never been used for anything but setups. He had the upper hand here. His satisfaction crumbled as he watched the footage cut to black, before he had even got there, to never come back on. They had been with him in the warehouse. Once again, he was left with nothing to go off of for the vampires. Except the fact that whoever they were, they were able to see the trap Lonnie had set. If it had worked once, it could work again. 

Thursday, Nov. 13, 10:00 AM

Tim spent the day going through every individual device code that had accessed the encrypted website that only Scarecrow-issued devices were supposed to be able to reach. He found something, a single computer in Gotham. Whoever it was had the technical knowledge to scramble their IP address, it changed every sixty seconds. This must be it. He cracked his knuckles and prepared a second trap, one that looked like it would go out to everyone, but this time had a more specific target in mind. Saturday he would make sure he was not caught off guard, and if anything went wrong, he was prepared to try again until he knew exactly who these “vampires” were.

Chapter Text

Friday, Nov. 14, 6:02 PM

You were laying silently on your bed, staring at the ceiling. People usually started swarming into the room above you around this time. A notification came through on your phone. You picked it up and unlocked it to see a message from Ian regarding the next day. The colony had initially agreed to meet up that day, Saturday, after Clara had overheard whisperings the week before of an event taking place at the town square. The new message stated that there was something else going on, on the same day at the same time. You read through all the details and responded with your opinion.

>let’s go to the new one. first is too vague.

>Ian: Something about it is off. 

>what?

>Ian: We can just split up and do both.

You weren’t sure what Ian was suspicious about, but he seemed quick to drop it, so you figured it was probably nothing. The Colony decided that Ian, Lex, and Ben would go to the town square for the first plan. You and Clara would be going to some abandoned can factory for the second. 

Saturday, Nov. 15, 10:10 PM

The two of you walked to the destination. Gotham was completely rid of the rubble that had plagued the city the week prior. It was nice to inhale the relatively fresh night air; now free of debris. You never felt afraid of Gotham nights the way humans did, the only things that could kill you were a wooden stake through the heart or full on decapitation. Neither of those tended to be a mugger’s first choice. Your confidence was boosted even more when Clara was by your side. You weren’t sure exactly how old she was, but she was certainly the eldest of your group, and the most skilled fighter. She had humoured the group in the past with tales of her numerous husbands, and her brief time in the Council of Spiders; an assassin group that had been around for hundreds of years, and was still active. It was definitely reassuring to have her around in case anything went awry.

For example, the sudden presentiment of danger you felt as the large metal door slammed firmly shut behind you. While it wasn’t the first time the colony had split in half, it was still a rare occurrence. Which meant it was also the first time you and Clara were left to disable the cameras without the help of Ian. The two of you had assured him that you could do it, but the closer you got to the security room, that confidence dwindled. Once you walked in and saw all of the computer monitors, it completely disappeared.

“We’re meant to open the menu.” Clara spoke in her usual poised tone, but with an air of uncertainty, “how do we do it?” Before you could think of a response, you were interrupted.

“You won’t be needing to do that.” You turned your head so quick to see where the noise had come from, you nearly sprained it. Red Robin. He stepped into the cyan light from the screens to reveal himself, and you could see Clara panic, likely much more subtle than you were. “I know what you are.” he stated in a confident tone.

You shuttered. Clara was a skilled fighter to be sure, but a self-taught one. She was no match for a true vigilante who wore armor and held hidden weapons. Especially if he meant what you thought he had, and had vampire specific weapons on him. The two of you knew immediately what to do. You bolted past him, running as quickly as you could out of the factory. Luckily the building hadn’t been locked down as it had the last time you’d seen the man. You could only hope Clara would make an escape as swift.

10:17 PM

Red Robin had not been expecting much of anything that happened in the can factory that night. His first surprise had been the number of people who showed up. He’d expected seven, to fit the amount of bites he had found during his first encounter. Two had shown up that night. He thought maybe they were the first to show up, just early. His second surprise was their technological incompetence. Could these really be the same people who disabled all the cameras before, who had managed to digitally sneak their way into criminal circles? Tim was doubtful. He was surprised the third time at himself, for announcing his presence when he did. He’d always been a bit overconfident, it was a habit he had yet to crush. So much for waiting for anyone else to show up. After making himself known, one half of the group had vanished before he’d even committed to memory what they looked like. 

That had all been the leadup to his fight that night. He couldn’t assess his foe’s skill, but she was certainly confident enough to make the first move, aiming a swift kick at his stomach. He dodged, of course, and tried to get a closer look at her through the dim light in the room. She had the appearance of a vampire down; her skin colorless and pale, and her clothes had certainly not been made in the last century. She went in for a punch, and Tim dodged again. His goal was not to beat her in a fight, by the way her eyes darted around the room, he suspected that wasn’t her goal either. He reached for his utility belt and dispensed a micro tracker, about the size of a grain of sand, onto his finger. Just when she began her escape; he reached out to her, fingers brushing against her clothing. It had looked like a missed attempt to grab her, but the tracker had secured onto the back of her cloak, and Tim’s job for the night was complete.

Sunday, Nov. 16, 8:00 AM

Tim had successfully completed the first half of his plan. After a long awaited full night’s rest, he wasted no time moving on to the second. He swung his way around town in the daylight, to the quaint purple house that the vampire had gone to. All of the windows had opaque curtains drawn, which he supposed was expected with the whole vampires and sunlight thing. He eventually decided to just pick the lock, and check each room for any useful information. He opened the first door in the hallway, which led to a bedroom. He braced himself, but relaxed when he saw the bed was empty. In fact, the bed looked straight out of a catalogue, as if it had never been used before. 

He saw the cloak she had been wearing the night prior hanging off a rack on the wall, and carefully retrieved the tracker to put it back safely into his utility belt. She must not be home at the moment, he thought to himself. On the bedside table sat a strange looking cell phone. It was certainly clunkier than most phones on the market, which caught his interest. Instead of snooping then, Tim stuck his flash drive into the charging port to do what any sane person would do. Snoop when he got home. After a couple minutes of standing around anxiously, the transfer was complete and he exited the house as quickly as he could so the woman wouldn’t come back and catch him.

His way back to the theater was not as uneventful as he expected it to be. His earpiece gave him a sound of warning before Lonnie’s patronizing text to speech voice was in his ear.

“While you were playing vampire hunter last night, Scarecrow’s goons were injecting civilians on the streets.”

Tim froze for a moment, remembered he was mid air, and grappled to the nearest rooftop so he could properly continue the conversation.

“How many were affected, is anyone dead?” Tim tried to keep his voice steady.

“Four injected, all missing. Status and location unknown.”

3:34 PM

Tim was in front of his screens again, where he spent most of his time. He had decided as soon as Lonnie’s messages came through that he would get scarecrow apprehended that same night. He had just finished finalizing his plans, one main plan and thirty eight backup plans that branched out from the one. He still had some time to kill, so he turned his attention back to the vampire people. Lonnie had seemed annoyed with the attention Tim was putting into them, but Tim knew better than to let that get to him. Especially when it was clear they weren’t his top priority.

He decided that this would be the right time to begin his snooping, only then looking into the information he had collected from the vampire’s phone. His interest was grabbed by the screen that popped up when he unlocked the thing. A home-made group chat and tracker, no other applications; no use for a home screen. He now had access to all of the “Colony,” as they called themselves’ locations. Not seven or two, but five. He noted all of the names and their locations down in the vampire file, and messaged Oracle about the updates. Then, he sat back, and gave himself a moment to breathe. He had spent the past 7 hours completely focused on his screen with no breaks. It was probably a good time to use the restroom and grab something to eat.

The stark contrast of Red Robin’s secret lair to Tim’s luxury apartment was something he hadn't needed to get used to. He had grown accustomed to that sort of thing long ago at Wayne manor when he first became robin. Even if he was just grabbing a bite to eat, when he traversed between the two places he could feel himself shifting. From Red Robin to Tim and back. 

When he was once again at his monitor, something caught his attention. A message in the Colony group chat. That was odd, the sun had still been up. 

> When are we meeting next?He scrolled back up to read the recent messages from the night prior. There were messages from the early waking vampire about Red Robin interrupting their plans. Not from, he checked her name, Clara, so that must be the other one he saw. He noticed they were located at that club he had been to recently. Tim didn’t learn much from those messages, it was the other half of the group’s story that caught his attention. They had seen Scarecrow’s hostages being injected. They had left soon after that, it seemed they didn’t have as much interest in confronting that sort of thing as the vigilantes did. Not that Tim needed any help from them, he already had Scarecrow’s address and the missing peoples’ faces catalogued, but it was interesting nonetheless. These people really believed they were vampires. So far, Tim wasn’t so convinced.

Chapter Text

Sunday, Nov. 16, 7:05 PM

It was a slightly rainy night, the misty air clung to what little skin you exposed on your stroll. There was a steady flow of pedestrians that evening, appropriate for a Sunday night. You latched onto one stream of unrelated people heading in a direction, and decided to follow them. You hoped they would lead you to something you could work with. During your outings, you usually found yourself grateful for a skill you had honed from your time watching people, silent observance. Gotham was a very ugly place; sidewalks stained with slick black sludge that could be anything from human blood to mutant ectoplasm, back alleys holding in the scent of rotten trash and death. One particularly unobscured alley, you observed, contained a very drunk young man with curly blond hair stumbling about.

You usually liked to be a bit more slow with your walks, enjoying the gentle warmth of moonlight before feeding, just in case you needed to make a quick escape. This time, however, you were ravenous, and it seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up. You stepped to the side, out of the flow of foot traffic, and sauntered over to the man. When he saw you, there was a fear in his eyes. A normal response to a cloaked figure approaching someone in Gotham. You gave him a gentle smile, careful not to betray the intensity of your hunger, and he calmed down slightly. In a few more moments you were about an arm’s length away, able to see the man’s perfectly average face. You reached a cold hand towards him, gauging his docility. He didn’t move away from it, only slightly flinching from the temperature of it against his cheek.

You couldn’t just feed off of him there, so you racked your brain for your exact location and looked around. The staircase you had discovered just a few days prior stared at you. You ignored the unease; the chill of being watched, that settled into you when you looked at it. You grabbed the man by the hand and squeezed through the crowd of people. That night was going exceptionally well for you, you weren’t going to abandon your luck. You led your company down the steps, slowing down a bit as he wobbled. After the first couple, you realised you were going to need more patience than you had originally anticipated. You sometimes wondered if these people thought they seemed sober, or if they knew the dangers of letting a stranger lead them around in their stupor, and just didn’t care. People like him were, if anything, lucky you weren’t looking to take advantage of them in the way they’d hoped. When you finally made it to the bottom, you opened the door, trying not to show your desperation in the act. You guided him through, leaned him against the wall, and got to work.He let it happen, malleable in your hands like clay.

It went as easy as it possibly could have. You gave just enough for him to let his guard down, subtly pierced the back of his shoulder, and took the appropriate amount for his size. Things that had once been unknown to you, like minding the runniness of the blood or its slowness to clot due to alcohol, were now something you didn’t even have to think about. A familiar, satiating warmth circulated through your body, concentrating at your face. You pressed your last kiss firmly onto his jaw, then took a step back.

Normally, you would have walked away. That night, just before you could even think of it, you backed into a form that wasn’t there previously. A click sound signaled the light had been turned on. The sound of your prey’s footsteps scrambling up the stairs was lost on your ears as you turned your head to get a glimpse of whatever was behind you. Stalks of straw and the texture of burlap appeared in your peripheral. You knew who was behind you. A sharp pinch and a stinging pain flooded through your trapezius, the same place you would pierce your own victims. You sank to your knees. You knew that the Scarecrow was a scientist. That if he had seen you feeding, he would probably be willing to run as many tests as he could squeeze out of you, to try and figure you out. You couldn’t tell where your rational fears ended and where the drug induced ones began.

7:38 PM

Tim had planned on waiting a few more hours before going to Crane’s makeshift hideout. He didn’t have much busywork, but he tidied up what little of it there was so it wouldn’t stem into a bigger problem. He’d prefer to work on Red Robin cases, but Tim Drake’s identity was equally as time-consuming a chore to keep up with. Between menial tasks he had been occasionally checking on the Colony’s locations, and on his last refresh he just about had a heart attack. He moved quicker than he could think, suiting up and hopping on his motorcycle. Only during his ride did he realise he had absolutely no plan for his predicament. It worried him a tinge, but he knew he wouldn’t have made it that far had he not been adaptable.

He arrived at the address, some filthy concrete building with a cheap brick veneer. He looked through the window of the ground floor, to be met with dust and cobwebs that were seemingly undisturbed for decades. He surveyed the side of the place and noticed a staircase leading down to a basement in the back. It was creepy, he thought, which was very on brand for Scarecrow. When he peeked through the cracked door, he didn’t see Crane. It was completely dark, and he couldn’t hear any sounds of movement. Had he arrived too late? He turned on the light with a tug of the string. 

The wailing was immediate, he shuddered at your now obvious presence in the corner. You were thrashing about, seemingly blinded by the dim light that had been introduced to the room. Tim tried to stay calm and observe. You had certainly been exposed to Scarecrow’s concoction, whether Tim had dealt with it before or it was something completely new, he wasn’t sure. He took a couple steps towards you, and you forced another loud wail. He decided it would be best to just rip off the bandaid. He moved as quickly as he could through the little remaining space separating you and firmly grasped onto you to keep you from hurting yourself. He had a syringe full of sedative in his belt, and waited until you were a sliver more still to reach for it. He rolled up your sleeve, which seemed to especially set you off, and injected it into your upper arm. He was lucky it was fast acting, because you were out completely cold in less than a minute.

Tim set up a small motion-activated camera in a corner of the room, just in case Crane decided to come back, and grappled you back above ground. Just so he could take you right back down again through his tunnel system. Grateful that things had just worked out in a way where he didn’t have to worry about you knowing his location, he brought you to his hidden base. The holding room was next to his testing lab; It was just as sterile as it looked, like it belonged in a hospital. It wasn’t a very pleasant place to stay. Bright white light made the room feel cold and clinical, only made worse by the sickly beige of the walls. This was his first time actually using it for another person, but he was mostly confident he would be alright. He took you in and assessed you, he couldn’t exactly tell your intelligence while you were out, but he could get a pretty good idea of your physical power. He decided that while you probably couldn’t take him down, because he was a trained vigilante and all, he should probably still restrain you. It always paid to be prepared. He grabbed your wrists to cuff them and immediately let go. Were you that cold the whole time? 

It certainly wasn’t that bad while he was carrying you. He checked for a pulse and his heart dropped into his stomach when he felt nothing. Were you allergic to the anesthesia? Had Crane’s drugs killed you? 

He could feel himself thinking down a rabbithole, the thought of another person dead because of him weighed heavy on his mind. He tried to find an explanation for your signs of death. Usually it was a pointless endeavor, but this time there was a blatantly obvious and equally absurd answer that came to mind. He opened a drawer and retrieved an empty syringe, wasting no time poking your forearm and taking some of your blood. It didn’t want to go through. He pulled firmer, but still steady, and finally the blood filled the syringe’s barrel. He could immediately see why he was having trouble. Your blood was dark and coagulated, a viscous sludge. Tim had seen a lot in his life, but the combination of the unexpectedness of it, and its disgusting appearance almost made him throw up in his mouth. He didn’t think about what it would take to prove you were an undead being, because he thought it impossible. Now he had no choice but to be wholly convinced.

Unfortunately for Tim, the earth kept spinning; even during life-changing revelations. He properly restrained you in soft, yet virtually indestructible cuffs, which would hold you to the medical procedure chair. Once you were laying securely, he left the room and went back to Scarecrow’s hideout. When he got there earlier, he was so hopped up on curiosity he had completely forgotten about his motorcycle. Luckily, it was still there and not visibly tampered with. He decided he didn’t want to come back to that place for any reason, so he took a quick look at the underground room to check for anything left behind. Your cloak laid on the floor, where you had left it. He noticed a heft to it when he picked it up, and inspected the pockets sewn into the inside. The clunky phone that tracked your location peeked out of one. He obviously couldn’t take it back to you while you were staying with him, so he folded up the cloak and took it with him to his next destination.

Tim arrived in a hidden alley, and left his motorcycle, emerging near the club. He ignored the people coming up to compliment or reprimand him in favor of casing the place. He always hated going into public areas in costume. It was alright when he was clearly kicking a bad guy’s ass, but if he was doing anything less, he was swarmed with attention. Despite that, he would continue to let his desire for knowledge get the better of him. He inspected the side of the club, which led him down a steep slope that ended around the corner to the back. There, he found an industrial looking doorway into what he assumed was a basement. What was with everyone and basements? 

He pulled the door and found it unlocked, so he wandered in. It was a dreary place, mostly empty apart from the barest basic necessities required to live and maintain hygiene. He felt a microscopic pang of sorrow for you as he laid your folded coat on your bed. He noticed your phone was similarly barren, as was Clara’s. He connected it with his own computer to gain a shared access to your phone. Before he could just see, but after this he should be able to interact. He didn’t intend to, but it was still nice to have. Oracle or Lonnie might need it one day too, he noted to give them access when he could. Once that was done, he plugged the phone into the charger and headed back home with mixed feelings. Although it was a uniquely interesting night, he had failed his task. The Scarecrow was still at large.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, Nov. 18, 11:23 PM

The first thing you felt was a pounding in your skull. It was dull, but steady. The second thing you felt was a hand on the side of your neck. Now you understand that it was probably checking your pulse; a helpful thing. But in the split second before you reacted, the only thing it registered as was a harmful gesture, an attempt at decapitating or strangling. Not that you had much of a reaction at all, since your wrists and torso were bound to the cool metal table beneath you, and the bright white light from above just about blinded your eyes as soon as they opened. Your attempt at hopping to your feet was more of an ungraceful lurch, but it did its job, scaring away whatever was touching you.

You took a moment to observe your surroundings, some lifeless room framed by countertops, surrounding you in the very center. It had been some time since you’d found yourself in a hospital, but you never remembered costumed vigilantes at your bedside. Red Robin, who you recognized, seemed surprised by your sudden outburst. You held eye contact with him for a few short moments. He was still as a statue, apart from his black cape that lightly fluttered against the breeze from a nearby vent. His suit was littered in tiny scratches, grime and blood. He was visually striking, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be intimidated. 

“Where am I?” 

Your question came out much softer than you had intended due to the phlegm buildup in your throat, but you kept your eyes narrow so he would understand your tone. His posture relaxed a bit before he answered you.

“You’re in my testing lab. You’ll have to stay here for a while to be monitored.” 

Red Robin’s voice was neutral. Objective. The finality of it annoyed you, because you didn’t plan on staying. You responded to him, this time your voice carried the venom you intended.

“You will let me go.” 

To your dismay, a slow smirk spread across what you could see of your company’s face. 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving demands.”

You felt frustration and embarrassment rising in your chest. If your blood flowed freely it would have concentrated in your face. Of course you couldn’t intimidate him. You’d need a different plan if you wanted to get out of there. In a few steps, he was at your side, undoing the binding on your torso, then your wrists. You sat upright as soon as you were free, the frigidity of the metal was not particularly pleasant against your back.

“Once I can be sure there’s no fear toxin in your system I’ll let you go.” His voice was reassuring. “Until then, you’ll have to stay here. But I can bring you whatever you need.”

You took a minute to think over his words. He had basically told you he didn’t see you as a threat by letting you go, which provoked your ire; no matter how grateful you were to have some freedom back. Maybe you could work with that. He talked like a normal person, which surprised you. You had never heard any vigilantes speak like anything but- well, vigilantes. He also talked to you like a normal person, which caught you more off guard. Did he know what you were? You couldn’t just outright ask, if he didn’t know you’d blow your cover. It was best to just assume he was unaware. You softened your expression into one that hopefully made you appear a bit more amiable.

“Can you bring me my hood?”

You assumed he had it, you couldn’t exactly remember but surely you were wearing it when he had found you. He gave you a nod and polite smile, before leaving to fulfill your request. The sound of the door being locked behind him was audible. You looked around, and spotted another door. When you tried it, it opened easily, but unfortunately it was just a bathroom. You considered going through all the cabinets and drawers, but you didn’t want him to catch you when he came back. It was in your best interest to seem as meek as possible, which you could handle. You sat back down on the table to wait. If you could just get your phone, hopefully you could get a colony member to help you get out of there. You weren’t sure how that would work, if Red Robin had some sort of signal blocker for his base- hell if you were even in his base at all. You’d hopefully figure all that stuff out when you got to that point. 

Your captor entered back into the room after a couple of minutes with your cloak. You took it from his gloved hand and tried your best to be subtle about checking the inner pockets.

“You can’t have your phone, since it tracks your location and all. Don’t want all your vampire friends showing up.” 

His statement was so quick you were almost embarrassed for trying. Another chance at escape foiled. At least now you knew he was aware of your secret, that saved you from having to pretend you were human. You sighed and put on your cloak; for both a little privacy from Red Robin’s stare, and to protect you from the unrelenting chill of the room. You weren’t sure what it was about the prospect of being stuck in a single room for the foreseeable future that terrified you to your core. 

“How often are you going to be here?”

“I’ll check in on you a couple times a day, that’s the bathroom if you need it.” Red Robin pointed towards the bathroom door. “If you need me for whatever reason, just press that button.” With his other hand, he gestured towards a small red button on the table’s side. 

“Okay.” 

You could handle being on your own, your entire lifestyle proved that. It was far and away better than being stuck with Red Robin. Not having contact with your only friends made it a little harder, but you could do it. You were strong.

Wednesday, Nov. 19, 9:00 AM

If Tim were Batman, he’d have bombarded you with every question he could think up the second you were conscious. But alas, he chose to be polite. Curse him and his basic human decency. His curiosity was eating him alive, his dreams were plagued with questions, it wasn’t much better after he woke up either. He’d started writing them all down. How old were you? What did you do for a living? How long could you go without food? That one, he should probably figure out sooner rather than later. He figured you wouldn’t have liked playing a game of twenty questions on your first day there. Although you seemed to calm down a bit once he had explained everything, he was sure it was just an act.

His curiosity led him to one Barbara Gordon. Babs seemed to be just as in the dark as Tim regarding the vampires. Maybe he was still a bit sore about his one night off being cancelled, or he was just itching to look into something interesting for a change. He concluded it was probably both, and shot off a message to Babs asking her to track down Scarecrow while he took care of the vampire situation. He felt a bit guilty adding that to her already overcrowded list of things to do, but he was sure she’d accept.

He offhandedly checked in on you through the security camera footage on his monitor. You had fallen asleep shortly after he’d left for the night. There was a mysticism to you, one that he had only started seeing once he found out you were a mythical creature. Well- not mythical, he supposed. It was something he always felt around supernatural beings. A feeling most people would only get from hearing ghost stories. 

Tim decided he should bring you some things to do next time you woke up. He had no idea what you liked to do, so he looked around his personal apartment for more basic things. He gathered a couple thick books and some sidewalk chalk. That would hopefully keep you occupied, and if not, he could get you whatever else you wanted. He tried not to think about how he was making himself your maid as he stopped by his linen closet and grabbed a soft blanket for you. It wasn’t like he wanted to keep you there, it was just what needed to be done. He brought the items into the secret half of his home, Red Robin’s domain. He trudged up the stairs to floor three, the floor that held his supercomputer; also the one you were staying on. He really should have gotten an elevator down there. You weren’t awake yet, but Babs had responded to his message. As he thought, she had agreed, with the caveat that he owed her a favor. He knew there was almost no chance she would hold him to that.

3:49 PM

Tim was knee deep in any slightly verifiable vampire sighting he could find. He almost immediately found some big case about them in Blüdhaven about six years back. After digging a bit deeper, miscellaneous bite sightings around the globe popped up. A buzzer went off, jolting him out of his flow state. He checked in on the live footage, and sure enough you were sitting upright. He suited up, just then realising how annoying that was going to be for the next couple days, and walked over to the testing lab with his array of items. He unlocked the door and pushed through, locking it behind him with his key. He turns to see your focus on his things. 

“So you don’t get bored.” 

He handed them to you and you gave him a quiet “Thanks” in return. He watched you inspect the books first, then the chalk. 

“Anything else I can get you?” Tim asked, trying and failing to not sound like a waiter at a restaurant.

You paused for a moment before averting eye contact and answering him.

“I’m hungry.”

Tim figured this would happen. At least it was a good excuse to ask some questions. He decided to just go for it.

“So…” He started, “Do you just do human blood, or is pig blood good?”

You tried to hide it, but Tim could tell you were uncomfortable answering his question. Now that he thought about it, you had probably never been asked about that sort of thing. You pulled the blanket around your shoulders.

“It works, but it's not healthy. Like junk food.” You awkwardly replied.

Not great, but not terrible either. He could pick some up from the butcher when they opened the next day.

“How often do you…” Tim trailed off, not really sure how to word his question. It seemed you’d understood regardless.

“I get hungry on the second day with no blood. I feed on the third.”

You had opened the box of sidewalk chalk and slowly walked over to the only wall free of countertops and drawers. Tim took that as an invitation to ask more questions. He leaned against the metal table. And asked the first question that came to mind.

“Can you die?” 

“Not from starvation. But bad things still happen if I go without blood.”

Tim made a mental note of your vague answer as you tested a piece of blue chalk against the smooth wall and wiped it away. He meant the question in a more general way, but decided not to push you on the subject.

“How old are you?” 

You just looked at him, not answering. Then your attention was focused back on the wall, drawing a few lines with orange chalk. The lack of an answer just made Tim more curious, but he supposed the question was a bit impolite. He decided to step away from the personal questions for that night.

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name.” You replied without looking back at him.

It was true, your phone welcomed you by name on the lock screen. Red Robin not checking that would have been unlikely. 

“So can you, like… fly?” Was the next question he settled on.

“No.” was your only response.

“Can you turn into a bat?” 

He hoped that question hadn’t come out as obnoxious as it sounded in his head. When you turned around to glare at him, he just sent a small smile your way.

“No.”

You knelt down to drop the chalk into the box, revealing what you had drawn to Tim. A small fluffy squirrel. It wasn’t a very good drawing, but he could tell what it was. 

“Cute!” He tried to compliment you. You just stared at him in return. He thought back to his list of questions he could ask to break the awkward silence.

“Do you have a job?” he blurted. 

You rummaged around in the box of chalk again, pulling out a green stick. Turning towards the wall, you began working on a tree next to the squirrel. Tim watched and realised you were probably done talking to him for the time being. With that, he stood up and left you to your own devices.

Chapter Text

Thursday, Nov. 20, 7:00 AM

Tim woke up naturally that morning, in no rush. It had been months since he went to sleep at a normal time, probably years since he had done it of his own accord. It felt nice, peaceful to just exist without some big countdown to beat- Some unknowable clock ticking down to innocent lives being lost if he wasn’t good enough.

Okay, no more thinking about that on his day off.

It wasn’t really a day off, but it was as close as he was going to get. He still had obligations. Like feeding the person temporarily living in his home. Was person the right term? It seemed rude to call you something else. Whatever. When he got up he considered making his bed, but decided against it. No point. He'd just mess it up again later. He took his sweet time getting bundled up and ready to go out on his errand. 

When he left his apartment the sun had yet to rise. It was getting later in the year; all the trees had shed their leaves, and it would start snowing soon. Tim always thought this was when Gotham looked its best, the dreary mood fit well with the gothic architecture. It was practically what Gotham was known for.

Besides all the other stuff.

There was something vampiric about it, the towers that spiralled high like Count Dracula’s castle; paired with the extra darkness that creeped later into the morning.

Tim had a tendency to get fixated on things. Right now, real vampires in Gotham. Less embarrassing than some of his past fixations, at least. Thankfully, his surroundings pulled him out of the rabbit hole filled with creepy past obsessions he was about to go down.

His city had a strange mis-matched quality to it. The elegant buildings that were a hundred years old sat next door to modern fast food joints and niche shops. A few places were getting festive, putting up thanksgiving decorations, some even had their christmas lights already set up. The butcher was not one of them. 

Tim pushed open the door with a welcoming jingle sound and walked in. A look around the place confirmed what he had expected, just a bunch of meat. Since he was already there, it wouldn’t hurt to get something for himself too. It would also hopefully make him look less suspicious. He went up to the man standing behind the counter, who looked far older and far more tired than Tim himself.

“Do you sell pork blood here?”

He took a second to realise there was someone in front of him. If he recognized Tim, he didn’t show it. Then a second longer to register he had been asked a question.

“We get this stuff from a slaughterhouse, we don’t have that.” He replied slowly. “We could probably order you some though, you can pick it up in a couple days.”

“Ah. No, thanks.” Tim gave a polite smile and turned back through the door with another ring of the bell. 

He didn’t plan for this trip to be more than one stop. Or more than two. It was only at the third place he went to, a kosher butcher, that his request had been fulfilled. And he was pretty sure, based on their reaction to his request, his presence would not be welcomed after that.

By the time he was walking home, an hour later than he expected, the sky had turned from a deep navy blue to a dreary marbling of gray with white, and the wind was howling. He just had to be courteous for his guest, he grumbled to himself on the trudge home.

When he was finally home, he kicked his boots off and shrugged out of his coat, and put them in their places. With an “Open sesame” the wall that separated him from the hidden back half of his apartment slid open. Tim climbed the steps to the platform that held his supercomputer, and more relevantly, the mini fridge that sat next to it. He usually just used it to hold his Zesti, but today it would store his guest’s drink of choice there as well. And the bacon he got for himself. 

He checked on you from his computer. Still asleep, as he had expected. The stainless steel table didn’t look so pleasant to lay on, maybe he should set up something less hostile. He noticed an overwhelming portion of the wall was covered in childish chalk drawings of animals, the pastel colors stuck out against the sickly beige of the walls under the bright white lights overhead. One of the fiction books he brought you was sitting open, about halfway read on the floor. Tim almost felt himself get mad about the spine being ruined, but he was probably never going to look at that book again after you left and he put it back, so he let it go. 

He wasn’t sure how to spend his free time until you woke up. He wasn’t much of a gamer, or a movie buff. He thought about calling a friend, but all his civilian friends were surely at work at that time, and his vigilante friends were probably asleep. Not that he considered many people his friends. Or that many people considered him their friend. 

Nuts. 

He thought he had grown past all that mopey stuff. He needed to either get a hobby or never take another break again. Although the former sounded pleasant, he knew it was the less likely of the two, which just brought his mood down more. He would feel better if he ate something, he told himself. He retrieved the bacon from the kosher butcher out of his fridge. 

5:22 PM

Tim already had on his Red Robin suit when you buzzed for him. 

After his subpar brunch, he had holed up in his usual spot at his supercomputer to watch some show Stephanie was into- Less watching, more restlessly checking Gotham’s main street cameras on another monitor, then looking through more vampire bite sightings on a third. 

He was grateful to have a break for some real human interaction. Well, not exactly human, but beggars can’t be choosers. He grabbed the bag of blood from the fridge and hoped that if you didn’t like it cold you wouldn’t say anything, because he was really not in the mood.

Stepping into the room was like stepping through a portal, all of his personal problems left his mind, and the obsessive curiosity swarmed back. He handed you the bag and watched you inspect it.

“Good evening.” He gave you a courteous smile and leaned against a counter facing you.

“Hello,” You greeted with a strained smile in return and then began drinking the blood. That was more sudden than he had expected, but he was really in no spot to be judgemental. Should he leave for this? You probably didn’t want him there. The notion slipped his mind, however, because something had piqued his interest. While you drank, your face deepened slightly with a purplish hue. It was a tad offputting, but mostly just interesting. That was a good word to describe you, just interesting. Something completely foreign that Tim could just study for a little while. Was that creepy?

You were about halfway finished with the blood when you abruptly stopped drinking and pulled up the hood of your cloak. He could now see about as much of your face as you could see of his. Your hood looked sort of familiar, maybe like Raven’s? Whatever. Tim decided to take a page out of Bruce's book tonight and take some initiative.

“So, how do you normally…” He trailed off and gestured to the bag of blood in your hands. He wasn’t sure what the right word to use was. He was not exactly portraying confidence at the moment, but he was allowed to have multitudes.

You gave him no answer, just staring in return. Okay, less talkative than the day before. He decided not to pry, since he already knew the jist of how you fed. Unfortunately, he would really need you to answer his next question. He sighed, then cleared his throat and took on a more serious tone.

“Alright. I need to know-”

He pushed off the counter and sat on the metal table next to you, careful to give you a good amount of room. He made sure you were looking at him before he asked 

“How did you know where the Scarecrow was staying?”

You frowned.

“I didn’t.”

What? That made no sense, Tim thought. Well… actually, why would you have gone if you knew Scarecrow was there? You were clearly unprepared to face him. Your group acted mostly pacifist, scraping by off of people the vigilantes had already incapacitated; Just the vultures picking meat off the bones after the predators did the work. How did he not even consider that the most likely scenario was just a coincidence? He leaned back a bit.

“Then what led you there?”

There was silence as he waited for you to think before your response. He couldn’t tell if you were making eye contact under the dramatic shadow your hood cast on your face.

“I just needed a quiet place. I thought it was abandoned.”

Vague as ever. If you were telling the truth, he couldn’t blame you for thinking that. The place was pretty disheveled. He wanted to get you to elaborate on why you were down there, but you seemed to have a pretty limited tolerance to his questioning. Maybe just to him in general. 

That was alright, you had given him all he needed to continue work on the Scarecrow case. Unfortunately  not much, but that wasn’t your fault. He had more questions he wanted to ask, of course, but keeping you there any longer than you had to be would just be cruel.

 He hopped off the table and walked to a nearby counter, opened a drawer and pulled out a syringe. 

“Can I take some of your blood?” A beat passed. “For testing.”

Your face was distrusting.

“I can’t let you leave until I know you’re toxin free.”

That seemed to change your mind. You exhaled and your shoulders relaxed, either in relief or defeat, and held out an arm.

“Can we trade?”

Was that a quip? Tim paused, caught completely off guard. You were smiling. He reminded himself to be polite and gave you a friendly smile. He chose not to respond. He stuck the syringe’s point into the inside of your elbow, and was luckily prepared this time for the force he would have to exert to draw your coagulated blood. He had what he needed soon enough.

“Alright, I’ll be back.” He told you, and maintained his smile as he backed through the door, locking it from the outside. He noticed you picking back up the bag to finish it off as he left. 

Maybe now he did feel a little bad for watching.

He took your blood to the testing lab across the hall and set up his microscope. If he was at the batcave, he could have just run the test automatically, but he didn’t have that sort of tech at his place, so he had to get it done the old fashioned way. He examined the rotten blood cells, and found plenty of strange things about them, but no traces of fear toxin left in your system. There were antibodies, which could be of use making a cure for this new strain. You probably weren’t too keen on giving him any more of your blood, but it was a useful piece of information to keep for later.

Now to say goodbye. You would probably have a pretty big grudge against Red Robin after this next part- which would be fair, but he really couldn’t have you seeing that he kept you at Tim Drake’s apartment. He was a little sad you had to go so soon, especially after how curious he had gotten Dick and Babs along with himself, but he was really grateful for the change of pace. You definitely wanted to be free, and he had to get back to more pressing matters.

Friday, Nov. 21, 8:30 PM

You woke up in your bed, slowly and groggily. You stared at your ceiling for a while, listening to the bass that shook the building mixing with the heavy rain that bounced off of it. Your memories of the past few days were foggy, but they were coming back. The clinical room. Red Robin. Chalk.

You sat up quickly when you realized you didn’t remember how you got home. You checked your phone. It was Friday, and you had a swarm of missed texts to answer. You dropped your phone and tried to ease your mind. Getting drugged twice in one week was new for you. Red Robin was a jerk for that, but at least he had charged your phone and brought your cloak there. The least he could do, after holding you captive and watching you like an animal. 

How did he figure out where you lived, anyways? Had you told him when he dropped you off and you just couldn’t remember?

That could have been the case, but you wouldn’t put spying on you like a creep past Red Robin. You sat back up and began typing a message to your friends about what had happened.

You hoped the group of you would go out and do something soon. After being trapped in a glorified cell for three days, you could use some fun. 

If they wouldn’t, then you would.

Admittedly, you had enjoyed playing around with the chalk, and the book he lent you was sort of interesting. But still an overall dull and boring week. Your thoughts didn’t leave your mind as you stood to freshen up in the restroom.

Chapter Text

Saturday, Nov. 22, 7:54 PM

You didn’t go to the docks often, so whenever you happened to be there you tried to take your time and commit it all to memory. 

Unfortunately, that night you would not be able to watch the reflection of the moon dance in the soft waves of the Atlantic. You were on a mission. On a normal night, things like this happened indoors, or in tight alleyways. But you needed a switch-up, and that’s what you got. At that moment, you were perched next to a utility pole, just out of reach from the light of a nearby street lamp. Your goal was to make one of Penguin’s men your dinner. Completely out in the open. 

Needless to say, it was far from your comfort zone.

The lackeys were moving cargo, what it was or where it was from was beyond you. You had learned early on that kind of curiosity wasn’t something to feed. At least, not if you wanted to stay alive and off the radar. Why waste your time worrying about things that were none of your business? It was a no brainer when you had what you came for right in front of you. 

Your sights were set on a tall, heavyset man who had been demonstrating his clumsiness since your arrival. You figured from the sweat dripping down his balding head, the berry pink flush to his skin, and the heaving breaths he took, that the box he was carrying would be his last from the harbor before he took a break. Which was your cue to get into place.

With a deep sigh, he sat down on the large wooden box next to the rest of the cargo. His back was facing you, which made stalking closer that much easier. You were careful to distribute your weight evenly so the wood beneath your feet would not creak. You checked to make sure the ground was free of loose debris, and the coast was absent of unwanted attention. All clear. Once you made sure of your perfect conditions, you crossed the point of no return. 

At once, you were close enough to grab him by the elbows and securely pull them behind his back. Ignoring his startled yelp, you punctured his neck with your fangs without any caution. In a situation like this, with fully aware and conscious prey; the quicker and rougher you were with your bite, the better. His thrashing made it tricky to keep a firm grasp on his wrists. You were nearly launched back, but the close call only made you more determined to stick it out. Luckily for you, he wasn’t too hard to hold down with both hands. After what couldn’t have been more than a minute, the blood loss weakened him. His struggling became more and more futile until he eventually stilled. It was over. 

Between the large amount of blood you had drank and the thrill of the hunt, you almost felt like your heart was beating again.

It wasn’t, obviously. But it was still a nice feeling.

You gave yourself a minute to wait for the adrenaline to wear off, and to slow your racing thoughts. You smacked your lips once. Twice. Hm, the taste of his blood reminded you of something.

Had you bit this guy before? No, you didn’t think so. He doesn't look like the type to go clubbing.

Oh, it was like that pig blood you had the other day. 

Gross. 

At least it was warm, and you weren’t trapped with some creepy guy who was dissecting your every movement. To your knowledge.

You abandoned your prey, who was slumped lifeless where he sat, and surveyed the area. The open view of the docks gave you perfect vision of the entire area. If it weren’t the case, you might not have seen your fellow colony member, Lexi, behind you to your left.

Since she was the youngest and least experienced of your crew, she took on the weakest of the henchmen that were there that night. You grouped up with her to search for the rest of your crew, passively enjoying the view of the ocean with her in the meantime. That night had been exactly as you wanted it.

Sunday, Nov. 23, 10:19 PM

Tim thought he was going insane. Maybe he was right. 

His patrol was going about as normal as it could. There had been one incident early on- a mugging which he swiftly took care of, and apart from that, everything looked as it should. But Tim wasn’t looking for a normal, easy night. He was looking for answers. For anything out of place that could lead him to Jonathon Crane. The Scarecrow.

This was hardly the most stumped Tim had been, far from the longest he’d been on a case with no leads, or the most dangerous threat aimed at civilians. But it had the potential to end lives, and that meant there was no room for failure.

He was really hoping patrol could give him something that mindlessly flipping through camera footage couldn’t. But the only thing he received for his efforts was a tingle in his lower face from the cold.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears on the journey home. Was this really such an undertaking, or was his own incompetence to blame? That was a creeping thought he had often. One that Dick, Steph, even Bruce had to deal with. But that was part of the gig. 

He chose it when he chose this life.

His skills weren’t to blame for his lack of progress, he assured himself. He had just been distracted lately. Now that things had gone back to normal, everything would quickly smooth over.

Wednesday, Nov. 26, 11:38 PM

Everything was going back to normal and you hated it.

Gotham’s criminal underground had patterns. Some were obvious, basic cause and effect. Less organized crime committed on national holidays, for example. But the smaller, less glaring causes- you were sure that even with an immortal lifespan, those would be something you’d never fully get.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. You had been overcooking these thoughts relentlessly for the past few days. No answers had jumped out at you. No truths revealed. 

The point was, crime was winding down, so your meetings with the colony had to slow down. Basically, no fun for three weeks. You would have to deal with your displeasure alone. Not that you cared much for tradition, but with tomorrow being Thanksgiving and all, your mood couldn’t get much lower. 

In the past when you found yourself in this situation, with a full mind and a lack of direction, you would go out and explore a new place, but tonight you wouldn’t even think about it. 

You were attempting not to think about it anyways. 

Because just like that, the one thing you had been trying to forget took center stage in your mind. Your run-in with Scarecrow. The panic and the terrible hallucinations. How could you take a chance on a new place with the dread of last time swirling building in your stomach? It wasn’t an option.

But you really didn't want to stay home either.

Maybe if you stuck to safe, familiar streets? 

Before you knew it, you were shrouded and on a dimly lit sidewalk nearby a convenience store. Maybe a magazine could keep your attention? Going into enclosed, public places like these was a strategic challenge, at least your shroud helped to protect you from mirrors that might give you away. As soon as you entered, you observed. 

Six mirrors. Three people. You’d have to try to screw this up.

You wandered through the aisles. Candy, medicine, makeup. Nothing of interest to you. Until you made your way to the toys, and among the vast, colorful array; you saw a small tub of sidewalk chalk. That kept you busy once, it should be able to again.

Before you knew it, you were back in the basement, and your chosen wall was decorated with pastel drawings of fluffy animals. The chalk didn’t clear your mind. Not in the slightest. Your thoughts still rested on feasts with families preventing your own “feasts” with your own “family.”

But now you had something to do while thinking, and it felt good. You were by no means an incredible artist, which was fine, that wasn’t your goal. Maybe one day.

Perhaps your life held more opportunities for normal hobbies than you originally thought.