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Tim wasn’t Robin, he never would be.
Bruce made sure to tell him when he failed over and over again on the field, he made sure to tell Tim that he would never live up to Jason. Tim knew it was true. He hadn’t even been elected officially by Batman for the role of Robin, he had just wormed his way in like the parasite he was.
He had been benched, that was why he needed to do this, he needed to prove to Bruce that he was useful as Robin. Tim sat in the Tower’s living room, working on gathering intel about the Red Hood, there wasn’t much he could do from San Francisco, but he would make it work.
Tim’s stomach growled, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon when the Titans had last been at the tower, he couldn't eat right now, or sleep. He needed to prove he could help. His fingers clicked idly along the keyboard, once and a while his vision would blur and he would jump back up before he could fall asleep. Tim sighed, that meant it was time for more coffee.
Tim set his laptop on the cushion beside him before sliding off the couch and padding his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet, stretching his back out as he did so, and put it under the dispenser on the coffee machine. He pressed the on button and stood sadly, waiting for it to brew.
The coffee machine began to hiss and gurgle, a tell tale sign that his heavenly caffeine was about to emerge, when suddenly the power went out. The only noise in the desolate tower was a small plink from where one singular drop of coffee had been dispensed into the mug. Tim hummed in confusion, sure it was lightly raining out, but there had been no lighting or strong wind.
Tim looked at his coffee mug longingly before returning to the living room to keep researching, but when he pulled his laptop back onto his legs he found that it was completely out of charge. Tim let out a loud groan, the one chance he had to prove to Batman that he wasn’t a failure was being foiled by some stupid power outage. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes but he blinked them away, he had to be strong, like Jason.
Tim sat on the couch and tried to think of solutions, there had to be a backup generator that was going to kick on any second now right? Maybe he should go check outside for one, it might be a manual starter. But before he could even make it to the doorway of the living room, Tim froze. There was someone coming down the hallway, someone big. The footsteps were heavy, pronounced, like the person behind them wanted Tim to know how much of a threat they were.
Tim spun around, frantically searching the room for his bow staff. Thankfully it was leaning on the couch, and Tim had it in his hands when the intruder rounded the corner to show themselves.
Tim sucked in a shocked breath, Red Hood. “You’re a long way from Gotham, Hood.”
The mechanical hiss of Hood’s helmet made tim grip his bow staff even harder, “You’re a long way from the Bat, birdy.”
“I don’t have time for games, what do you want?” Tim steadied his breathing, trying to not let his fear shine through his voice.
“I want to remind Ol’ Batman what happens to the birds he swears to protect.”
Tim had barely any time to react before Red Hood was launching himself at Tim, swinging out with a knife. Tim countered it with a block with his staff and he quickly hopped back a few steps to regain control.
Red Hood whistled, “Quick reaction time, he trained you well birdy, just not well enough.”
Red Hood let out a volley of attacks, Tim tried to block but there were far too many, a knife slashed his hand and his face, right below his mask. They were deep and stung like hell, but Tim stood his ground.
“Batman trained me plenty,” Tim said with a raised chin.
“Did he?”
Before Tim could react, his bow staff had been ripped from his hands and he was pinned to the floor. Red Hood punched him in the nose, hard. Tim tried his best to squirm out of Red Hood’s grasp but the other man was far larger and stronger, not to mention Tim hadn’t slept in at least three days and hadn’t eaten since the night before. His limbs were shaky and weak.
“Well, replacement, you put up a valiant effort but birdies don’t ever win, do they?” Tim could practically hear the smirk on Red Hood’s ugly face.
“W-what do you mean ‘replacement’?” Tim asked, he had mostly just accepted dying and was trying to push down the panic in his chest.
Red Hood laughed, a horrible, grating sound through the voice modifier in his helmet. “You mean you didn’t figure it out? The new, genius birdy didn’t figure out who I was? Well, I suppose I should show you, it is the reason I'm here, after all.” Red Hood reached up and removed his helmet, it hissed and a plume of steam emerged from where it was suctioned pretty well to his skin.
Tim couldn’t breathe.
This wasn’t right.
No.
This was so wrong.
Tim’s chest was moving faster and faster.
He was hyperventilating.
The last thing he heard from Red— Jason, before he passed out was: “What? Is my face ugly or something? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”