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It's Tim's fault.
If he hadn't spent a full hour staring at the bat symbol painted on that cave wall—that tangible proof that Bruce was sent back in time, sent to the dawn of humanity, and that he's alive—then this sword-wielding asshole wouldn't have caught them here.
If he had been more careful in covering their tracks, this killer wouldn't have found them in the first place.
If he had just been better—
But Z is on the ground, and it's obvious that he's never getting back up, and his chest is soaked in blood and, in the split second that the sword had been poking out of his chest, Tim saw a boomerang Tim needs to pull his head out of his ass.
The man in the ridiculous outfit and holding two swords, one of which is dripping Z's blood, speaks.
"Assassins... I am The Widower. Please... try to put up a fight."
The Widower's costume is skin-tight, which makes his moves easier to predict; so when he sees Widower's shoulders flex to raise his twin blades and his calf muscle tense, Tim knows what he's going to do next.
"Owens! Pru! Move!" he shouts, running forward.
But his team (his team, now down a member) is distracted.
Owens can't lift his gaze from the ground and who lies on it.
"Z!"
Pru, on the other hand, is blinded by her rage, not even pointing her gun as she says, "You're dead! Do you hear me? You're—"
The Widower springs forward and her words are ripped out of her mouth. Or, well, her throat, because that's what the Widower's sword cuts through.
It's better than Owens, whose head hits the ground before his body seems to realize he's dead.
Tim doesn't have the time to watch even more of the people he cares about die, because he's already lifting his bo staff to block a swing from his opponent. He still can't help the, "No!" that escapes him.
The Widower is grinning.
"You were not on my list, assassin. All the better; a wild card."
He goes to stab Tim, but he kicks the man backwards. He stumbles for a second, and Tim takes that second hit the costumed killer over the head. The Widower regains his balance, though, and walks backwards as Tim goes on the offensive. He breaks the man's jaw with his first hit, trying to get that grin off his face.
He hits again and again with the Widower seemingly content to take the beating. He only dodges once, jumping backwards and thrusting his sword out, missing Tim by almost half a foot. The hit over the head must have gotten him confused enough to damage his aim. At least, Tim thinks that. He thinks that right up until he tries to move forward and trips over Owens' dead body, and falls directly onto Widower's blade.
The Widower laughs as Tim hits the ground, tilting his head up with his boot until Tim is looking up at him. Even with the broken jaw, he's still grinning.
"The Council of Spiders thanks you for your participation in the game."
The Widower lifts his blade, and, out of sheer instinct—
"Kon!"
But Kon is dead. Kon is dead and so is everyone else and so is Tim and at least Tim is going to be with everyone else and at some point Tim feels the Widower's sword pierce his armor and then his skin and membrane and muscle and lungs and his hea