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The sound of a phone ringing woke Dick up. He groaned, rolling over and answered the phone without looking at it.
"Hello?"
"Dick," It was Bruce. "I need you at the manor."
"Bruce, what?" Dick muttered sleepily, peering at the clock with blurry eyes.
"I've sent Tim to the apartment to pick you up."
"I'm not in my apartment."
"Did I say your apartment? I know exactly where you are. Just dress in civilian clothes and let Tim bring you here."
He hung up.
Dick let the phone fall to the bed with a groan. It was too early for this shit. He'd been out patrolling late last night and been too exhausted to make it back to his apartment. So he'd crashed in a safehouse. Somehow he wasn't surprised that Bruce knew.
Dick was barely dressed when Tim knocked on the door. Dick answered with a waffle in his mouth.
"Can't you let a guy eat breakfast," Dick mumbled around the food.
Tim held out a coffee to Dick. "I made a quick stop." Tim said. "Don't tell Bruce."
"You're my hero." Dick moaned, taking the cup wand willingly following Tim to the car.
----
Tim and Dick stepped out of the car into the Batcave, the echoey silence familiar to Dicks ears. Tim led him to the Batcomputer where, predictably, Bruce was seated and, surprisingly, Jason was lounging.
"Jason?" Dick asked, shocked.
"Nice to see you too," Jason grumbled.
"Jezus Bruce," Dick whistled. "You called Jason for help? How bad is this?"
"I got a death threat, all hands on deck."
"You seem pretty chill for an all hands on deck situation."
"I'm a wealthy billionaire," Bruce said with a shrug. "I expect a death threat here and there. Though this one is more elaborate than most."
"How so?"
"Got some interesting mail this morning." Bruce passed an envelope to Dick. "Take a look."
Dick pulled a sheet of paper out of the envelope and frowned at it.
"It looks like someone tore a page out of their history book." He commented, turning the page over.
"Indeed." Bruce nodded to the paper. "Read it."
"Chapter Nine: The Long and Violent History of Gothem City Politics. Bruce Wayne was an executive and CEO of Wayne Industries, a prolific billionaire and philanthropist who was murdered tragically outside of the Drip Apartment building at noon on May the. . ." Dick looked up. "This is today."
Jason was suddenly behind Dick, tugging the page out of Dick’s hand and turning it over. "Time travel?" He asked.
"No," Bruce shook his head. "I don't think that textbook actually exists, now or in the future."
"I don't think it was ever actually in a book." Tim put in. "The size is all wrong."
"Bruce, you have a speech to give at noon." Dick said slowly.
"And that brings us to interesting mail part two." Bruce handed Dick a tablet. Jason leaned over his shoulder to see and cussed.
A small plaza, fit out for an event with chairs all facing a podium on the far side. Written on the side of the podium in blood red letters said "Principles of Art 101. Study closely and underline key terms. You will have a test today at noon." A body was slumped over the podium, red lines of blood dripping down.
"And swipe to the next photo." Bruce said.
The next photo showed a close up of the body. It was fitted out to look just like Bruce Wayne.
"Hey, that's pretty good," Jason muttered.
"Gordon sent these to me this morning." Bruce said. "Someone vandalized the event space. He's urging me to cancel the event."
Dick narrowed his eyes. "But you refused?"
Bruce opened his mouth but Jason cut him off.
"Noon today, Bruce," Jason snapped. "This person is literally telling you when and where they're going to kill you, and you're just gonna, what, go?"
"That's why I called you two."
"Are you both familiar with a villain called The Proctor?" Bruce asked.
Dick glanced at Jason who shook his head, and he shrugged.
"A little," Dick said. "She was a prolific serial killer with a classroom bit. She "taught" elaborate and violent education. She always promised to let anyone live who passed her tests, but none of her victims ever made it out. She went dark twenty years ago though."
"And all signs point to this being her." Bruce said. "I get art class. Or, it's just the first lesson."
"And you want us to. . ." Dick prompted, knowing the answer.
"Find her, and stop her. Preferably before I'm shot at noon."
"And your big ego is stopping you from canceling why?" Jason snarked.
"This project is important, I need to see it through." Bruce insisted. "I can't show the villains that Bruce Wayne is afraid of them."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should be,"
Bruce ignored Jason and turned back to Dick. "Gordon is trying to get a warrant into the apartments, but it's unlikely that will come through in time. So I need you two to do some snooping of your own."
Dick glanced over at Jason, who was scowling at the fake textbook. "Well, Jason, ready for a field trip?"
"No." Jason scoffed. "But I wouldn't want to miss B getting shot, so, I guess I can tag along."
----
Dick and Jason left Bruce and Tim in the plaza to argue with Gordon about safety measures. They had a few hours until the speech to get into the building and find out who was behind this. The message on the podium had been a big clue. "Study closely and underline key terms." Tim had figured it out. He drew a line through where the bullet hit the fake Bruce - the impact so forceful it had shot into the podium itself - up to the middle window of the top floor. So that's where they were headed.
Dick and Jason stood awkwardly as the elevator went up. They were nearly at the top when Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Jason cut him off.
"Whatever you're about to say," Jason said evenly. "Don't."
Dick shut his mouth. The doors opened with a quiet ding.
Jason led the way out of the elevator, taking a few paces forward before stopping short.
Dick followed him out, whistling as the elevator closed behind them.
"This is the top floor lobby?" Dick wondered aloud. It was nice. Crystal chandelier, stained-glass windows, high ceilings . . .
"No," Jason said. "It's an apartment."
Dick glanced around. He was right. The elevator let right into the room itself, a vast space with an entire wall of windows. Not much stood in the room. Table. Chairs. A couch. It looked for all the world unlived in.
Jason went immediately to the window.
"This isn't right," Jason muttered, peering down. "These aren't the windows The Replacement showed us. They weren't stained glass."
Dick wandered around the perimeter of the room, scoping every window without touching anything. Not a single clear window looked out over the plaza.
"When you're done stalking the place," Jason said. He'd turned to watch Dick pace, arms crossed. "You got a plan? Because this room is dead empty, and I don't think it's because the killer is showing up later."
"Not if she advertised herself so early," Dick agreed. "Odd that it's a penthouse like this . . . but yeah," Dick flashed Jason a grin. "I've got a plan."
Jason rolled his eyes, but gestured for Dick to go on.
"We know where she's going to shoot from-"
"The top story window."
"Yeah, so we gotta lock it down. Find the window she's supposedly gonna shoot Bruce from, and then make sure Bruce doesn't die."
"Genius." Jason drawled. "So, is it this window, or . . ."
"Let’s check out the rest of the place," Dick said. He went to the only other door in the room and opened it slowly. A bedroom. A big bedroom. A large four poster bed was made up in the middle, tapestries on the wall and . . . nothing else."
"Well that's underwhelming." Dick commented.
"You first, big brother." Jason piped up over his shoulder. "If there's a trap, it's definitely in that room."
"Nah, I'm good." Dick took a few steps back. "Let’s just lock down this apartment. If we stop anyone from getting in here and setting up, we stop anyone from shooting through any windows, stained or otherwise. Tim must have got the wrong windows."
Jason groaned. "What if it's a floor down?"
Dick winced. ". . . We'll just check every floor on the way down." He said as walked back to the elevator and pressed the down button.
"I was afraid you were going to say that." Jason grumbled.
They waited in silence together, listening to the elevator moving. Then they listened to a grating noise, a mechanical squeal, and a lot of creaking.
"I don't like those sounds." Dick commented lightly.
The creak got louder, and with a splitting *snap* there was a falling sound, a crash, and the elevator door dinged as the doors opened to reveal an empty elevator shoot. Dick peered down, observing the broken, shattered elevator.
"Huh."
Jason gave a snort. "Alright, boy wonder," he said. "What now?"
"Now . . ." Dick scanned the room. Not a single window opened. Of course. "Bedroom windows." He suggested. He went back to the room, and had only taken a few steps into it when a voice boomed above him.
"Finally!" The voice said. "It's about time you passed Home Economics! Remember to always keep up with home appliance maintenance, or your items may be subject to failure."
Jason stood in the doorway, staring wide eyed at Dick, who offered a shrug.
"Uh, home ec?" Dick asked. "Didn't know we were taking a test."
"Ah, you're not dead, are you?" The voice asked. "You've passed! And this is just the beginning of tonight’s education!"
"The Proctor, I assume?" Dick guessed.
"Clever, clever," The voice said in a sing song voice. "But Reasoning isn't until later." A creaking sounded from above, then a door opened in the ceiling and a rope came tumbling out. "Come along now."
"This is elaborate," Dick said. "I'll give you that."
"Well thank you," The Proctor's voice beamed. "I worked hard on this one. Now before you come up, you'll find a comms unit taped behind the door, take it with you, you'll need me up there."
"And why the hell should we listen to you?" Jason shouted. He stepped into the room, shadowing Dick as he retrieved the comms.
"That's where my test is, my dear students!" The Proctor said. "And passing my test is your only way out."
"Someone will come looking for us," Jason pointed out.
"Oh, eventually." The Proctor agreed. "But before Bruce Wayne's speech in . . . an hour? I doubt that very much. Now. Up the ladder."
Jason crossed his arms stubbornly, glaring at Dick.
"Come on, Jay. New plan." Dick prodded. "We've gotta figure this out. It'll be fine. It's just some elaborate exams. We'll do it together."
"Do I have a choice?"
Dick glanced up the ladder. "I can always go alone," he said. "And you can wait here."
"I'm not gonna let you go alone," Jason sighed. "Come on, idiot." Jason waved his hand dismissively and started climbing the ladder.
"Dusty," Dick said when he climbed into the room. "Old attic?"
Jason shrugged. "If it goes up, this might be where the window we're looking for is."
"All in good time, boys." The Proctor said from the comm in Dicks hand. "Here's your first test for the evening: a unit for applied chemistry!"
"Aw man," Dick whined. "But I didn't even study!"
"Listen up," The Proctor said. "Question one. An underground Cadmus facility developed an incredibly deadly poison for interrogation and assassinations. What was it called?''
"Hah," Dick said. "Hourglass Venom! My team and I interrupted a shipment of theirs a few years back."
"Very good." The Proctor said. "And how was it used for those interrogations?"
"It was a slow-acting poison with a fast-acting antidote. Inject the poison, the person you're questioning watches themselves dying, and the second they give up the intel you can cure them."
"Nice," Jason muttered.
"Correct," The Proctor said. “And question three, where can Hourglass Venom be found right now?"
"Nowhere," Dick scoffed. "We tracked down their lab and destroyed the entire-"
A snapping sound rang out, then,
"Ow!" Dick and Jason shouted in tandem, both jumping as a sharp sting dug into their necks.
"Incorrect, I’m afraid. The correct answer was “in the syringes I’ve just shot into your necks.” Remember that on a multiple choice test some answers can be more correct than others."
"Oh fuck you," Jason growled. "Great plan, Grayson. Go explore the killers crazy little test, it'll be fine, he said. We'll do it together, he said. How about dying together?"
"And that, gentlemen," The Proctor cut in, saving Dick from any more scathing remarks. "Concludes our Chemistry exam. Two out of three is a sixty-six –- a passing grade. Barely."
"That wasn't an exam!" Jason shouted. "It was a dumb set-up for your stupid poison!"
The Proctor just laughed. "You can say the test was unfair if you like, but the numbers do not lie. I am your Proctor for the day, and you will take my exams, and you will succeed... if you want the Hourglass Antidote."
Jason made a motion to grab the comms unit, but Dick took a step back.
"Jason, wait." Dick said quietly. "We need to hear her out."
"It sounds like you finally understand." The Proctor said cheerfully from the comms. "Now, if you’ll allow me, we’ll be moving along to Contemporary Literature. Open your textbooks, please, to “The Ballad of Richard and Jason...”
"God damn it." Jason cussed. Dick pursed his lips. It didn't bode well that the Proctor knew who they were.
“Sing to me, oh Muse, of Richard Grayson and Jason Todd," The Proctor began. Jason groaned. "Two nobodies taken before their time, two brothers-"
"Not my brother."
"-tempted into shooting one another through the heart-“
"What?" Dick yelped.
“For great tests stood before them, and only time would tell whether they were to rise to the occasion as heroes... or follow their temptation to betrayal.”
"GOD DAMN IT!" Jason yelled, turning to kick a wall. Dick listened to the Proctor speak, becoming increasingly unsettled as it went on.
“The Proctor, ever generous and ever genius, could guarantee only this: that if they completed her tests, they would surely be cured. But if at any point they feared they might fail, another road was open to them. . . if one shot the other through the heart, he would receive the antidote in an instant.”
Jason turned. Dick met his eyes.
"I don't have my guns on me-" Jason started. Another trap door opened in the ceiling and two pistols fell from it.
"This is McFucking crazy," Jason muttered, running a hand down his face.
Dick glanced between the guns and Jason, who made a noise of disgust. Jason walked over to the guns and picked them both up. Dick felt his throat tighten. Maybe if he-
Jason turned around, spinning one of the guns, and handed it to Dick, handle side out.
"Take it." Jason said when Dick didn't move.
"I. . . don't want that."
Jason checked the guns. "One bullet each." He muttered. "Let’s make it count."
“Sing, oh Muse," The Proctor crowed from the comms. "Of these two seekers of knowledge! Would they betray one another to save their own hides... or stand together to the death?”
Dick stared at the gun, then at Jason.
"Take it." Jason said quietly.
Reluctantly, Dick lifted the gun out of Jasons hand. It felt heavy.
"I'm not gonna shoot you, Jason." Dick said.
"Don't make promises." Jason warned. "An hour and Bruce is going to go through with his insane speech. Don't discount all of our options."
"Clever thinking, my boy!" The Proctor laughed. "Never turn in your test until you're sure you've answered every question. Now, sharpen your pencils and take your seats, Mr. Grayson, Mr. Todd. Your exams begin. . . now!" The laughter grew, increasingly unsettling as the boys stared at each other. At long last, the laughter tapered off. "Oh, oh," The Proctor sounded breathless. "Forgive me. I'm just so excited for exam day!"
Jason gave Dick a side eye. "How come every time I see you we get trapped in some lunatics crazy murder-game?" He asked.
"I don’t know, Jay. Just lucky, I guess."
"Rotten fucking luck." Jason muttered.
"Come now!" The Proctor said cheerfully. "Your test is just down this hall. Onward! Education awaits."
The attic was old and dusty, nothing like the pristine room below. The room they were in let out to a narrow hallway that Dick and Jason carefully picked their way down.
"You know," Dick commented lightly. "This is kind of familiar."
"Is that so?" Jason sounded skeptical.
Dick didn't turn to look at him, just shrugged. "Deathstroke once planted destructive nanobots in the Titans to force me to be his apprentice. Not poison, but, similar effect."
"... well, how'd you get out of that one?" Jason asked.
"I put nanobots in myself," Dick said easily. "If he killed my team, he'd have to kill me. He wasn't willing to do that, so he no longer had any leverage on me."
"That's . . . fucked up man." Jason said.
"I know," Dick laughed. "That man is crazy, I tell you."
"No, I-"
"Your next exam boys!" The Proctor cheered over the comms, startling them both. Dick finally turned to look at Jason, who gestured a reluctant go ahead, and Dick opened the door. The room ahead of them wasn't large, and what space there was was full of mannequins. Four of them lined up, each with a button on its chest and a tangle of wires snaking into its feet. It looked simple enough, but there had to be a trick to it.
"Creepy." Dick commented. "Fashion class?"
"No, no," The Proctor chided. "The three lessons you’ll have to pass today are the three Rs: Reasoning, Reading Comprehension, and... well, the last one’s a surprise."
"I'm glad spelling isn't one of them. I didn't know surprise started with an R." Dick piped up.
"Humor isn't on the schedule today, Mr. Grayson," The Proctor said as Jason roughly knocked Dick with his shoulder.
"The mannequins are only half of the test. Are you ready for the second half?"
"Depends." Dick said. "Is it four more mannequins?"
"Dick," Jason groaned. "Do you ever shut up?"
"No, no," the Proctor said. "I’m afraid not. Now listen closely, because I’m only going to say this twice."
". . . Twice?"
“Sage, Vladimir, Aisha, and Sponge walked down the road together side-by-side, holding hands. Two wore shirts of red, and two wore shirts of blue; but none would stand next to another wearing the same color shirt.”
"Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. A stupid puzzle." Jason groaned.
“It’s a very good puzzle. Now be quiet. Aisha, the baker whose shirt was red, held hands with only one other person. Sponge’s shirt was also red. Vladimir held hands with two people, one of whom was a detective; the other was Aisha. Sage could not tolerate anyone holding her right hand. Vladimir was not the murderer.”
“Well! That got exciting very quickly!” Dick couldn’t resist putting in.
“Among them were a detective, a baker, a fortuneteller, and a murderer. If you do not find the murderer, they will kill everyone else in line – and they will kill you, too. So tell me: which of these four mannequins is the murderer?”
"This is what you got famous for?" Jason asked. "Seriously?"
"I know! Very impressive, isn’t it? I’ll give you a tip: in a multiple choice exam, always be certain to eliminate silly answers before-"
"It is not impressive!" Jason shouted. "It’s the kind of thing they give to bored middle schoolers with nothing better to do!"
"So if you can’t solve it, boy, what does that make you?"
"Too busy for this stupid--"
"Hey, wait a second, wait a second." Dick put in, he raised a hand to Jason, then said, "You said you’d say all that twice, right? Can you say it again?"
“Sage, Vladimir, Aisha, and Sponge walked down the road together side-by-side, holding hands...”
Dick already knew the answer. He'd sorted it out while Jason was arguing with The Proctor, but at this point he was just playing for time. Time they likely didn't have, considering the poison and all. But he wanted a better look at the mannequins and the room. As he looked he could have sworn he'd seen one move. Dick shook his head. The poison was getting to him.
"There." The Proctor finished. "Your last reading. Think carefully –- and be sure to check your answers."
Jason raised an eyebrow at Dick, then gestured towards the mannequins in an "after you" gesture.
"If you don't get it," Jason said. "I'm gonna start smashing all the buttons."
"Nah, I got it." Dick said confidently. "The murderer is Sage, on the far right." Dick strode forward and slapped the button on the mannequin. He jumped when the sound of trumpets played from the comms. Up above, a trapdoor opened and a ladder unraveled from it.
"Excellent job, Mr. Grayson!" The Proctor said when the victory music had passed. "You’ve passed your Reasoning exam with flying colors!”
Jason pushed himself off the wall and followed Dick up the ladder. They were halfway up when Dick slipped, barely catching himself before he crashed into Jason.
"You good man?" Jason asked as he pulled himself up to the next floor.
"Yeah, I just-" Dick coughed. "Don't feel too good, you know?"
"Yeah," Jason’s voice sounded rough, like he was trying to stop himself from coughing. "A fatal dose of poison will do that to you."
"If you boys want the antidote," The Proctor said. "You'd better get moving. The Reading Comprehension test is just through that door."
Dick sighed and went to open the door, and paused in the doorway.
"Seriously?" Dick asked as Jason peered over his shoulder. "It's just. . . sixteen more mannequins."
"Just, just?" The Proctor sounded mildly offended. "Just sixteen mannequins, he says! Hasn't anyone ever taught you to read the directions, first?"
Jason pushed past Dick and scooped up the piece of paper off the table. He gave a reluctant groan, then started reading. “Davis, Major, Anya, Jean, Cobweb, Hephaestus, nine of their friends, and Sponge were walking down a road side-by-side, holding hands...?" He laughed. "This is the best you’ve got, Proctor? Seriously? A reputation as a deadly teacher, and you give us, what, crossword puzzles?"
"They are not crossword puzzles!" Now she sounded really offended. Dick almost laughed. "They are works of logical genius, designed to test your-"
"Nah." Dick interrupted, fiddling with the device on his wrist. Disguised as a watch, it was so much more.
While Dick worked, Jason kept reading. "Thompson had a deadly nut allergy, but none of them knew Anya very well. Major often confused Sponge with one of their friends in a yellow shirt; Cobweb was known to fingerpaint with peanut butter.” Jason broke off coughing. "Hey I thought you said humor wasn't a lesson today?"
"It is not!" The Proctor yelled. "You're running out of time, what is your answer?"
"Hey, Dick," Jason tossed the paper on the floor. "You got it?"
"I got it." Dick said. "Used the same technique I did for every test I passed in school."
Jason wrinkled his nose. "What, study hard, apply yourself, always be the teachers pet?"
"Nope." Dick said, popping the P as he strode towards the correct mannequin. "I was always out patrolling with B too often to use those techniques. Nah, I always cheated." While Jason had been distracting the Proctor, Dick had scanned the mannequins. Only one of them had wires that led to the door. He hit the button on one of them.
Like the last one, victorious trumpets played and the door on the other side of the room opened. Dick turned towards Jason with a grin, only to jump as something grabbed his arm.
"Dick, move!" Jason shouted.
It was too late. The mannequins had moved, and one had grabbed Dicks arm, another one appeared on the other side. . .
"Fuck!" Jason backed up, drawing the gun up, but he didn't seem to know where to point it.
"I educate you!" The Proctor cried over the comm. "I craft these tests for you with my own blood, sweat, and mannequins... and this is how you show your appreciation? You cheat?"
Dick elbowed a mannequin, shaking it off, but another one took its place just as quickly.
"Damn it," Jason lowered the gun. "I've only got one shot. It won't help . . ."
"I'm afraid if you die here, your next exam will have to be cancelled."
Dick ignored the Proctor, more focused on what Jason was up to.
"Jason," Dick called as he kicked another mannequin before it could snatch his feet. "Get out of here!"
"Fuck you!"
Dick wasn't sure if Jason was yelling at him or the mannequins, or possibly the world itself. He was too busy holding back a cry as the mannequins pulled his arms in different directions. Okay, maybe he wasn't doing a good job and holding it back. Dick twisting, trying find a weakness to break free, when the mannequin on one side of him suddenly lost its head and clattered to the floor.
Dick spun around and kicked the other and he was free. Jason was at his back, snarling as he dismembered another mannequin. They remained back to back as they fought their way to the door, then, slammed it shut.
They had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before the thick clunk of a lock shutting stole their attention.
"Aaaaaaand locked!" The Proctor called. "Did you really think I’d have remote controls on my mannequins and not on the doors? You underestimate my genius.”
"To be honest, Proctor," Dick said, brushing himself off. "I haven’t seen any evidence of it yet."
"Of course you have! I have accounted for every possibility! You have been outsmarted at every turn!"
"Whatever you say."
"That’s--! But you still haven’t passed the biggest test of all, have you? It is wise to save the most difficult questions for last, but... your hourglass is running low. Only ten minutes remain before the Venom claims you... and only fifteen before I claim Bruce Wayne. But you still have one test to pass: Arithmetic."
"Still doesn’t start with an R." Jason muttered.
"The equation is simple, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you any hints on this one. You will find it written over the doorway you must pass through... and you will find the window you seek on its other side."
"What about the damn antidote?" Jason shouted.
"Oh, if you solve this test, Mr. Todd, you will certainly have found the antidote. Though I must say that’s a big “if.” Good luck." There was a click, and the comms went silent.
"All right, all right." Dick said, running a hand through his hair. "Let’s do this stupid puzzle, already. I think I can feel my lungs curdling."
Jason silently pointed out the equation to Dick.
A piece of paper. A stick figure, minus a skull and crossbones, equals a picture of an open door.
Dick sighed. "The door will only open when we're not poisoned anymore."
"And how do we do that?"
"I have no idea."
That wasn't true. The door would only open for someone who wasn't poisoned, and Dick knew one way to get the antidote. . . Glancing at Jason, Dick could tell he had followed the same logic Dick had. Jason set his jaw, then spun around the room, shouting.
"Not gonna play your sick game, fucker!" Jason yelled. "Open the damn door!" Silence rang out. The comms didn't even crackle.
"Jay," Dick sighed. "We're running out of time." He coughed violently and Jason jerked towards him in an aborted effort to help. They were running out of time, Bruce was running out of time. They had to do something. Dick gestured to the gun. "Just shoot me and get it over with."
"Not funny, Dickwing."
"I'm usually very funny, Jay. I'm just not trying right now." Dick lowered himself to the floor, feeling the exhaustion in his body and an odd sense of peace of the idea of finally being dead.
"I'm not gonna shoot you." Jason said. He turned his back on Dick and started prying at the door.
"You should." Dick said.
"Well, whether or not I should, I’m not, all right?" Jason snapped. "What about you shoot me?"
"No!"
"Yeah, why not?" Jason spun around and faced Dick. "I already died once. Why not twice?"
"That's a stupid question and you know it." Dick retorted. "I'm not going to shoot you. We just got you back!"
"And I came back wrong," Jason snarled. "You'd being doing everyone a favor by killing me. God knows Bruce would thank you."
"At least you came back," Dick said. "What matters is that you came back. Jason," Dick went to stand, but collapsed back onto the floor, coughing. Jason dropped to his knees beside Dick, disguising the motion as comfort, but Dick saw how heavily he dropped, and how he had to be feeling the poison too.
"That's all I care about Jason, that my brother came back." Dick insisted.
"But you don't know me," Jason said. "I'm not that person anymore, Dick."
"That's okay," Dick smiled. He raised a hand to Jason’s cheek, ignoring the barely contained flinch. "I am willing to get to know you again. I know it's taken Bruce a while to come around, but he is too. Even Tim. Alfred misses you. Whoever you are now, we'll get to know you, we'll learn to love you."
Jason blinked rapidly, but not fast enough to hide the shimmering of tears in his eyes.
"All that and you're still asking me to kill you?" Jason rasped. For Jason's sake, Dick choose to believe it was the poison that was choking up his voice.
"Yeah," Dick smiled. "You deserve to get to know your family, to have a life."
"That might have worked with Deathstroke - yeah, don't think I forgot about that little conversation - but it's not gonna work here. I'm not gonna fucking shoot you, asshole." Jason said. "You deserve a life too. Bruce would be all fucked up without you, Tim would just mope and Damian would probably go on a killing spree. You know I couldn't ever explain this to Barbara or Alfred and I. . ." Jason glanced away. "I was. . ." He coughed, then turned back to Dick. "Look, we've got ten minutes for this to turn out okay. Anything can happen in ten minutes."
Or, as it turned out, nothing. Jason helped Dick to his feet and they spent their time kicking the doors, coughing, searching for a secret passage, coughing . . . But there was nothing in the room. It was completely bare. No secret passage, no hidden antidote. Nothing.
"Gah, this hurts." Jason hissed as he slid down the wall to sit.
"Two minutes." Dick said. He'd propped himself up on the wall, facing Jason. "It's not too late to shoot me."
"Fuck you."
Dick shrugged. "You'd being doing me-" he broke off in a coughing fit. "A favor at this point."
"If I'm gonna die again," Jason said quietly, tipping his head back on the wall. "I'm glad it's next to you." There was a beat then, "I hope Bruce feels guilty for sending us in here."
"He thought we could handle it, Jay." Dick said. "It's so stupid . . . the elaborate tests? The drama? If she just wanted to kill us she could have done that."
Jason shrugged. "They say her whole thing is that her victims can technically make it through her tests alive. So either she cheated us, or," Jason's laugh turned into a cough. "We're just dumb as shit."
"Yeah . . ." Dick pulled out the gun. "She wants to prove she smarter than us, but just letting us die doesn't probe anything. . ."
Jason let his gun clatter beside him as he tilted his head towards Dick.
"I won't blame you." He said, watching the gun in Dicks hands. "It's for the best, probably. I shouldn't even be here. I should be dead."
"Shut up, Little Wing." Dick said. Jason looked offended, but Dick carried on. "Jason, I'm about to do something really stupid."
"Oh yeah?" Jason looked amused. "Mind if I join you?"
"Kinda," Dick pushed himself up to sitting, a cough rattling his entire chest, pain spiking down his body. "Just promise me- promise me, if this goes bad. . . and honestly it probably will, try the door? Try the door, one last time, after."
Jason narrowed his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't the fun kind of stupid, Dick?"
Dick released the safety on the gun and grinned. "Because you've got good intuition, Little Wing." Dick raised his gun and pointed it between his own eyes.
"Dick!" Jason yelped. "What are you doing?"
"See you on the other side-" Dick said.
"Put the gun down!"
Bang.
Gun fired and Dick jerked backwards with impact, his body screaming as the motion shook him and he hit the floor.
"Dick!" Jason was screaming. He lunged towards Dick, gripping his arm. "You stupid asshole-"
"The other side of that doorway!" Dick said, grinning up as Jason hovered over him, looking shocked. Dick reached around for the gun Jason had abandoned, pressed it against Jasons leg, and pulled the trigger.
Bang.
"Motherfucker!" Jason yelled, jerking away from Dick. "That hurts!"
"Damn right," Dick said, sitting up. "That's what happens when you load your antidote into the barrow of a revolver. You get all the fun of a shot with none of the cartoon bandaids."
"Fuck you, Dick," Jason grumbled, rubbing his leg. "Really, fuck you."
"Hey, at least I didn't shoot you in the head." Dick said, pressing a hand against his forehead. He was going to bruise there for sure. "That hurt like hell."
"You couldn't at least tell me your plan?" Jason growled. "I'm not gonna forgive you for this, asshole."
"Aw, so you do care!"
"Watch it," Jason stood and pointed a finger at Dick. "I'm gonna kick your goddamn ass as soon as we're out of here."
"Hey, but I feel better already, don't you?" Dick leapt to his feet, startling Jason. "Hey, Jay?" Dick reached out and set a hand on Jasons shoulder. Jason tensed, but didn't pull away. "I meant it, okay? It wasn't just the poison talking. I'm glad you came back. And I'm willing to get to know you, as soon as you're ready."
Jason looked ready to cry or scream or hit Dick, but before he could do any of those things the Proctors voice came over the comms again.
"Well done, Mr. Grayson! Now, as promised, the door." The door gave a clunk as it unlocked, and began to swing open. "Come along. I'm waiting for you."
Dick dropped his hand off Jason’s shoulder and gestured him forward.
"I hate you." Jason grumbled.
They picked up the pace through the hallway, bursting into another room.
"Well, that's gotta be the window." Dick commented. In the middle of the room a large window stood with a rifle set up and pointed out and down. But no Proctor.
"Where the hell is the Proctor?" Jason muttered.
Dick went to the window and looked down into the courtyard below. A crowd of people were shuffling into their seats, and Bruce Wayne was shuffling papers at his podium. Tim stood off to the side, further than he might usually be, but no doubt a precaution Bruce was taking. Five minutes. Five minutes until noon, when the Proctor said she was going to kill Bruce. And Dick had no idea where she was.
"You’ve done well to make it this far, Mr. Grayson, Mr. Todd!" The Proctor laughed as the comms crackled back to life. "Better than expected, I will admit... but this is the end of the line. Welcome to your Final Exam."
"Where the hell are you?" Jason yelled. "Damn it, you really did lie to us!"
"I didn’t lie to you!" The Proctor corrected. "I said I was waiting for you, and I am... Just not in that room. When taking an exam, always remember to mark up the questions –- that’s how they get you."
"Where are you?" Dick asked.
"I’m afraid that is the sole question on your exam, Mr. Grayson. Question one: where is the genius murderer? On the window in front of you sits a rifle. Enough to kill me, certainly... if you can find me." Laughter echoed from the comms.
"She's gotta be down there somewhere." Jason said, sidling up behind the rifle. Dick nearly pressed his face to the glass peering out.
"You can't just kill random people in the crowd, Jay."
"Then tell me where she is!"
"Only three minutes left, boys." The Proctor said. "Your answer, please. All the best tests instruct just as much as they measure, you know. I wonder what you’ve learned from this one?"
What had they learned? Well Dick had learned a great deal of things. Like don't walk into a trap. Actually, no, he should have learned that one a long time ago and never did. But about the so called exam . . . Dick glanced down at the courtyard, thinking of the diorama that had been set up. It had long since been cleared, but even from here Dick could still see the bullet hole through the podium.
"Oh shit," Dick said. "The diorama was completely accurate, it said the bullet came through this window, but it never said what direction!"
"She's in the fucking podium?" Jason, clicked the safety off the rifle, glancing at Dick.
"Time’s up. You have five seconds to answer."
Dick stumbled back. "Do it." He said without thinking.
Without hesitating, Jason fired a shot that broke the window, then yelled "BRUCE! DUCK!" Before firing a second shot right at Bruce.
With reflexes too fast for a billionaire, Bruce threw himself away from the podium just before the bullet ripped through. Over the comms there was a gasp of pain.
Jason, looked at Dick, eyes wide. Below them, the crowd was screaming and Gordon was finally giving the go-head to enter the building.
"Very well done, boys." The Proctor gasped over the comms. "Perhaps I finally did meet my intellectual match."
Dick raced to the window, calling through the broken glass. "Gordon! Gordon!"
The commissioner looked up, not looking terribly surprised to see Dick up there.
"The Proctor is in the podium!" Dick called. "She's been shot!"
"Hey," Jason snatched the comms away from Dick. "What the fuck lady? Why the hell did you try to kill Bruce Wayne?"
"Oh, you want to know?" The Proctor made a pained noise. "Well I was hired by his greatest enemy." Dick wondered where the bullet had hit her. He wondered if Gordon could get medical aid here fast enough. He'd rounded up the cops around the podium, poised to bring the Proctor out.
"Who?" Jason growled.
"One final question then." The Proctor gave a pained cough. "In order to find Bruce Waynes enemy you must go home again...”
"Home?" Jason yelled, "How the hell do you know where I live?"
"A frozen place, this home... a land the past, of heroes, of justice... a place further than the inky blackness of space, yet as close as the scars on your skin. . . Home, boys. You’ll find Bruce's enemy if you just go home."
"Damn it, stop babbling and give me a straight answer!"
"You’ll never solve this." The Proctor sounded giddy. "I can hear it in your voice. You’ve lost. I’ve won."
"Proctor," Gordons voice came through the comms as he ripped open the podium and dragged her out. "You're under arrest."
"Damn it." Jason dropped the comms and joined Dick at the window. The cops were pulling a bloody and giggling Proctor out of the podium. Bruce and Tim stood a ways off watching. Tim glanced up at the building and Dick gave him a wave.
It took about an hour before they could bring in a firetruck and get the ladder up to the window to get them down. While they waited, Dick glanced at Jason, gently bumping his shoulder.
"Hey," Dick said. "We did it."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Sure, Dickwing. We got poisoned, forced to shoot each other, and I just shot a lady. We sure did something."
"We're both alive." Dick said. "That's enough."
"Yeah. . ." Jason trailed off, watching the organized chaos below. "Hey," he turned and grabbed Dick by his shirt collar. "You ever try to get me to shoot you again, and I'll kill you. You don't deserve to die, you hear me?"
Dick laughed. "I'll apologize if you do." He said. Jason just narrowed his eyes. "You're worth something to us, Jason. To me, to Bruce. I'm glad you're here."
Their argument was cut off by the arrival of the cavalry, who quickly whisked them down to the courtyard.
Bruce was waiting for them and grabbed Dick by the shoulders.
"Cutting it a little close there, boys." Bruce said, concern etched onto his face. "Are you okay?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle." Dick said, glancing at Jason who was hanging back behind him. "Sorry it took so long."
Bruce let go of Dick and stepped towards Jason. He reached out a hand, then retracted it when Jason glared at him.
"Are you okay?" Bruce asked softly.
"Just peachy." Jason groused. "I love being poisoned and manipulated."
"Poisoned?" Brace glanced between the two of them.
"I've had worse." Jason shrugged. "Death by poison is better than getting beat to death with a crowbar, I think." Jason added thoughtfully.
Bruce looked horrified, but Dick just pat him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, B." Dick said. "We're all good now. And I think this calls for some celebratory milkshakes?" Dick wiggled his eyebrows at Bruce expectantly.
"We still have a speech to give, Dick." Tim put in. He stood behind Bruce with his arms crossed like he was stopping himself for reaching out for Dick and Jason.
Dick left Bruce and went to scoop Tim up.
"Hey!" Tim objected, wiggling in Dicks grip. "Put me down! I'm not a kid!"
"And it's a lot harder to pick you up!" Dick laughed. He put Tim back on the ground, but didn't release him from his hug. Tim just sighed and rested his head on Dicks shoulder, resigned to his fate.
"I think the speech can wait, Tim." Bruce said. "Milkshakes sound good."
That was enough to get Dick to let go of Tim, and all three of the brothers stared at Bruce in shock. Not something Dick was going to question though.
"Yes!" He punched his fist in the air. He grabbed Jason’s hand and ran. Surprised, Jason didn't resist and let himself be pulled along. "First one to the car gets shotgun!"
"Hey!" Tim yelled, scrambling after them. "Wait for me!"