Hello! Welcome to Talon!Tim. I don't have much to say except thanks for 1k followers (seriously, thank you) and warnings for OOC-ness in this one.

I'm working with characters I don't usually work with and I'm purposefully not using (or using badly) characters that I do know well. And let me tell you, after writing good dad Bruce it's actually really hard to make him bad dad Bruce. Dick is also a bit tricky, and I'm attempting to keep Jason in-character with swears and jokes but it might have come off as too much. Anyway, this is my first attempt of writing about the other bros and I LOVE Talon!Tim as a concept and THIS HAS PLOT but its also much more angsty than my other stories (if you can believe it) so warnings for that.

The first half of this chapter is kinda a synopsis of the three years Tim is missing, you'll know when the actions starts. Also just for clarity's sake, Tim is 16 when he's taken by the Court but Bruce being lost in time happened earlier, but none of the actual events with Ra's happened. It's kinda odd, but the point is, Tim and Ra's haven't clashed but Bruce still went missing in time and Tim still found him and Dick still made Damian his Robin.

We starting at 8174 words (If you're new here, expect this number to go up)

Tim was tired that day. It wasn't a tired unlike any other day though. In fact, Tim would have said it was a boring day. It wasn't without its ups and downs though. He WAS a vigilante and the CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Interesting things happen to him all the time. More importantly, interesting things he could handle.

It wasn't until he got home at 4 A.M. sneaking in through his own window after patrol that he felt something was wrong. Standing in the middle of his room was a figure in a dark brown combat suit with gilded accessories. Very sharp looking accessories. Definitely not for decoration. Round golden goggles masked the person's eyes along with a cowl over their head, all of that gave a very distinct shape of an owl's face.

Tim had set his distress signal out for the first time in months that night.

Nightwing showed up first, worry eating at him because Tim had been pretty distant as of late. But Dick respected that, every bird had to leave the nest to spread their wings at some point. Tim was his own vigilante, that was something Tim had proven too many times to count. He was capable of dealing with his own things (and then some) and really came in clutch when the family needed him. Even when they didn't know they needed him in his first debut.

But as much as the family liked to poke at Dick's self preservation skills, none rivaled that of Tim 'Coffee runs through my veins and only sleep when it's forced upon me' Drake. Tim was still his little brother, he was allowed to be worried when Tim 'I'm fine' Drake decided to call for help.

Dick would always be worried about his spleeless little brother.

There was evidence of a fight. A quick one at that. A faint depression in the wall, a small blood smear on the floor, and a white snowy owl feather rested innocently on the dresser by a picture of Tim's parents. And no Tim in sight.

Nightwing called for backup.

Batman and Robin entered the room, took the blood for analyzation as well as the feather. They scoured the streets, perhaps Tim tactically retreated. Nothing was amiss. Nothing was out of the ordinary. No one saw a black haired blue eyed teenager exit the building. No one had left the building at all according to Oracle. The cameras facing the building were empty of any human passage, Tim's own security had been disabled entirely by what they assume is a small EMP charge. But even that detail was an assumption because they couldn't figure out why Tim's security didn't work. And Tim himself was just... gone.

Since there was no body they assumed Tim was kidnapped. It wouldn't have been the first time, being both Red Robin and Tim Drake CEO of Wayne Enterprise put a nice big target on his back. Which meant too many suspects and not enough evidence to pin any one party down. A rival company could have taken him. A villain could have taken him. Some random bum needing the money with a lot of luck on his side could have overpowered a tired Tim Drake. Too many options. With no leads on a kidnapper they waited for a ransom. It never came.

The kidnapping theory lasted about a year for Dick. Damian was the first to assume Tim had died, and for a while felt smug about it. Until he saw grief's true affects on his family.

Dick was at a new all time low, lost his police job, started drinking, argued with Bruce with more fists than any time before, and just left. He left. For weeks on end. Wallowing because he had failed Tim, his second brother, just as bad as he had failed the first. He had his friends though, they pulled him through. The Teen Titans were instrumental in getting Dick out of his funk, but it couldn't mend what had been wrot between him and Bruce.

Bruce was angry. He refused to believe he lost another son. He focused all his time and effort into finding Tim, because Tim had never given up on Bruce and Bruce was not about to fail his third son. Everyone told him, over and over again, let the case rest, let himself rest, that Bruce had done what he could and there was no sense disturbing a dead case. A dead son. Bruce wouldn't hear of it. He buried an empty casket. There was still a chance Tim had to be alive.

He lasted longer than Dick, just under two years he believed Tim was alive and waiting for rescue. Then one night after a grueling patrol, after shouting at his youngest and stripping him of his Robin title. Once he was all alone in the damp echoing Batcave, Bruce Wayne sat down and he cried. Old habits came back, he shut people out, he hit too hard, he argued and shouted and friends and family were afraid again. Robin wasn't enough to fix Batman this time. No one was.

Jason heard it from Nightwing, his replacement was dead. Jason had laughed, saying the scrawny teenager had definitely filled his shoes. Jason hadn't expected him to die, but he wasn't surprised either. Bruce gets kids killed, he was first evidence, Tim was second. Bruce's crusade wasn't a war that could be won. Especially not with children. He might have felt a bit of satisfaction at Bruce's expense, some pride because he was right and Bruce was wrong. But he also saw the gaping hole Tim had filled, and without him it all came crumbling down.

Jason couldn't fix Bruce though, he didn't want to touch that angst pool with a ten foot pole. He just wished Bruce could friggin move on for once in his life and focus on what he had instead of what he lost. The world didn't end when Tim did, it didn't when Jason did, so Jason continued living. It was all he could do.

Damian was slipping. Between the cracks of his two (somewhat) stable adult figures in his life there was a lost and confused child who didn't know how to mourn someone he only knew to hate. Damian had felt Drake's disappearance was for the better, once this thought was voiced he was quickly and sometimes violently silenced. He felt cheated, his rival for attention was finally gone yet it appeared his disappearance had only sucked every ounce of attention away from anything that wasn't Drake. It was unfair. It was cruel. Damian had never hated Tim Drake more in his life than after his death.

Grayson and Father could barely share the same air anymore, and Father's only words to Damian were usually orders. Damian could only watch as Drake's death tore his family apart with nothing left for Damian to hold onto. Grayson often ran off to be a cry baby, leaving Damian with a stone wall that was determined to bring back the harbinger off all this awfulness that got ahold of his family.

But Grayson hadn't completely abandoned him, only for a little while. He often took Damian with him on trips to the Titan's Tower, a place where juvenile heroes frequented as a collective. It was demeaning, as he was the youngest he was NOT the cutest, or adorable, or any other things he only allowed Grayson to say on good days. But, it was better than the cold empty manor, where his father prowled the halls muttering about the stupid dead case.

But it all went downhill when it came to vigilante work. Father had got it into his head that Damian was incompetent on the field, that his years of training under his Grandfather and Grayson meant nothing. According to Batman, Robin was done. No matter what Damian did, he couldn't convince his father to give him Robin back. It didn't help that his Grandfather was becoming more and more adamant about his return to the League of Assassins.

Damian refused to go willingly, but that also meant he was on house arrest for most of his life within the Manor walls. Damian was rightfully outraged, demanding to be on the battlefield if only to defend himself. His father wouldn't hear of it and like any normal and sane parent he turned his sons home into a prison. And after Damian proved himself capable by getting past all his stupid security meant to keep Damian in, Father made it absolutely impossible for him to escape the Manor and patrol on his own. It also made it impossible for his Grandfather's assassins to get in, but that's besides the point.

Grayson helped his campaign (he even got to leave the manor when Grayson was around) but not without more shouting and fighting and Damian realized he didn't want any of this anymore. He wanted all the fighting to stop. The manor was his prison but it was a safe prison, and all this time alone to do whatever he wanted (within the manor's walls) was actually nice. But such solitude (despite Graysons visits) only led to one thing. Thinking. And a few key realizations.

Damian realized nothing was better with Drake gone, it was so much worse. He hoped his changed view of the most recently dead son would appeal to his father. He remembered one of those dumb Christmas movies Grayson made him watch, about the man who was selfish and horrible to his employee even with Christmas around the corner and the man's son deathly sick. Wasn't the child's name Timmy? Life was cruel. The irony was even crueler. If this was life without Drake he wanted no part of it. It did help relations with his father, but only so much. Even if his father was blind to it, it had been three years now. Drake was dead.

But on days where the manor was too cold and lifeless, where the halls echoed like an abandoned cavern Damian let himself fantasize. If Drake were alive like Father insisted then everything would go back to normal. Grayson would return more often, he could maybe hear his father laugh for once, even that idiot Todd could come over and fill this dead air with... with something. Because there was nothing here. This was no life, and sometimes Damian hated Drake for it, and sometimes he longed to bring him back. If Drake was alive Damian would hug him, latch on and make him stay and never leave again, then he would scream at him for leaving for so long, for pretending to be dead and ruining all their lives. Then Drake would argue back and then they would fight and fight until Grayson came over and made them wear the 'get along' sweater.

Damian needed Drake back, but it was a pointless fantasy he couldn't help but coddle when nothing else did for him in this empty emotionless prison.

Alfred could only watch his family break. His son went insane on a lost case while his children fled and poor Damian was left with nothing. Alfred tried to relieve some of the pain Bruce wrought upon his youngest by keeping him trapped within the manor. He attempted games, pets, activities, food. Sometimes it felt like it was just him and Damian in the world. Alfred saw considerable change within Damian throughout their time together, he recognized the stages of grief Damian was going through, and a little bit more. At one point Damian confided in him that he didn't want to go out at night with his father anymore. Not while he was like... this. As much as Alfred approved non-violence, it stemmed from the wrong source.

The manor was too quiet now, the air surrounding Bruce before and even after he relented to the fact Tim was most likely dead was dark and threatening. It was no way to live. It was no way for a child to grow up. But he could do little against Bruce who sought to protect what he had left, but if he could only stop and look at what he thought was so precious was withering away... Alfred still had to mourn as well, the funeral for the empty casket was a joke to everyone except Alfred and Cass. Dick didn't attend, Bruce barely stayed for his words, jaw visibly clenched the entire time. Damian was there, in a quiet mood but not at all solemn for the death of the teenager his gut reaction to was 'hate'. Cass has come home from Hong Kong as soon as she heard, mourning heavily at Tim's feuneral. Afterwards, Jason actually showed up, to check on Alfred of all people. He wasn't really there for Tim, but he had stayed after Alfred had left so maybe Jason did have some things to say.

Alfred had hoped he could make a difference, but attempting to get Bruce to listen to him was fruitless. Their fights were not violent, but rather through small actions and decisions that they knew would enrage the other. Alfred hid the bat suit, hoping Bruce would rest for just one night, maybe even talk to his child Alfred had only seen him yell at. Bruce simply went out without it. When it was clear Alfred could not do anything he enlisted Bruce's friends for help. That didn't end well at all. Clark jumps at Bruce's presence now and Alfred had to mourn the friendships he destroyed. Alfred even threatened to resign, but Bruce didn't seem to care, so Alfred stayed, if only to keep Bruce alive and give Damian some company. It was dreary, but he hoped with enough time things would get better. Something had to happen to make things right and Alfred couldn't wait until it happened.

Cass hadn't been around much, but with the knowledge of Tim's death she had been devastated. She came home from Hong Kong, she tried to fix Bruce, she played buffer between hot headed unstoppable force Dick and unmovable object Bruce, but she wasn't enough. It was too much on her. Bruce wouldn't listen and Dick was too eager to argue with him, like the pain from Bruce would somehow atone for his failings as a brother. Poor Damian was sidelined hard in which everyone seemed to forget was out of love. Bruce didn't want to lose his last son. Not when Ra's was so clearly out for his blood. Everyone was too angry, too full of guilt and suffering that she couldn't fix. The world would continue on without Tim, there were still good people to save and bad guys to put behind bars. Tim wouldn't have wanted them to stop caring about the innocent people in the world, so Cass didn't. She continued saving, even if she couldn't save her family, she could save others. Tim would have liked that.

Three years after the disappearance of Timothy Jackson Drake and his alleged death, Batman has become something he shouldn't. Batman was always an idea, a belief that justice would be brought to those suffering. But that message has twisted and faded with time. Batman was no longer a watchful protector, a dark knight.

Batman was fear. Batman was brutal.

Gordon had orders to arrest Batman if sighted. Batman was no killer yet, but it was a very close thing. An encounter with Batman was a sure fire way to the hospital, half of which the good working surgeons there couldn't save from their extensive wounds. Oracle threatened to pull the plug with her help regarding Batman, he didn't care, so she remained in sparse (and strained) contact. Nightwing was completely gone from the city, only showing up in Bludhaven and Jump City in California. Robin was even more of a legend than Batman had ever been (or dead again as the media believed) and Black Bat stayed in Hong Kong. Batman was no longer an ally and he no longer had any.

What was worse, no one could touch him.

The Justice League has been strained, protests started, demanding Batman off the League, some extremists even demanding a more literal 'offing'. Batman's colleagues asked him to take time off, think a little, have a vacation. But the truth of the matter was no one could make Batman step down. He was needed on the JL, both parts of him. When there's a Justice League level threat you want Batman on your team, not sitting on the beach drinking lemonade.

He knew what they were doing. He wouldn't allow it. He ignored them all, every well wisher and pitying look he received from his colleagues ended with a punch to the face. There was nothing they could give him, nothing that would magically fix all this hurt short of a time machine. He just wanted them to shut up and try it. Attempt to feel an inkling of what he felt every day. To lose a child of their own, with no body and no reason and no one to blame but themselves. Then ask how they felt three years later. So yes, he punched them in the face.

Batman left of his own accord that day, and he became more and more of a recluse. He continued to fund the League, but officially Batman was an on call emergency operative. He no longer led missions, nor attended any meetings, he ignored all calls. So Batman stayed in Gotham, spending his League time at the office since his CEO who usually took care of things had died.

So Batman was alone.

He poured himself into his work, Alfred having to watch the man he raised— the man who had saved many other children from similar tragedies— deteriorate to a beast of anger and hatred. Their family of tragedies wasn't as tightly knit as it could have been, but with the death of Tim Drake it ripped at the seams, tearing and renting horribly until nothing identifiable was left.

Bruce refused to rest, even if he had eventually given up the hope that Tim was still alive. His son was taken from him. He was going to find out who and why even if it killed him. Because there had to be something, the single white snowy owl feather was his only clue. But it had to lead somewhere.

And it did.

Three years, two months, and seventeen days since the kidnapping and killing of Timothy Jackson Drake, Batman sent out a call to his scattered family. He found Tim's killers. But he had to admit he couldn't do it alone. The Court of Owls was large, with many unrelenting Talons who guarded them. It would take all of them to get rid of the parasite that was The Court of Owls. The Court would pay for taking Tim away from him. They'd pay for all the families they've ruined and people they've murdered.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

The Court of Owls are creepy as hell.

That's the conclusion Jason came to, after the fact that they were all complete basterds. The turds just wouldn't die. It didn't matter how much led he pumped them full with, their freaking zombie assassins popped right back up like daisies. Even Batman was getting annoyed by it, and he's making-people-dead-avoidant. Mostly. He seemed to be releasing his inner demon tonight on these owl guys. When the enemy can't die one can get away with killing blows. But Batman isn't anything if he's not prepared. Apparently the suckers have the opposite problem of 'can't take the heat'. Everyone was having a grand ol' time turning all the murder zombies into popsicles, most stuck in various forms of attack. Once a hallway or room was cleared as 'safe' (hah, what a relative term) it was littered with frozen zombie assassins who couldn't really die. Creepy? Check.

Jason wasn't even 100% sure why they were here other than to get rid of a creepy cult dedicated to predatory fowl who think they control Gotham. It was all hands on deck, it even got the golden boy out of Bludhaven. Babs mentioned something about an old case finally getting ground and that it was super important to Batman. He missed the briefing (he didn't want to spend any more time with bats than he had to) but it was Nightwing who told him these motherfudgers were Replacment's murderers. Jason could respect good old fashioned revenge, but with the Bat acting the way he has for the past three years this felt more like a slaughter.

Not that people were actually dying, the Owls who were real people were being arrested, the Talons however... well the murder fleshbots were fair game. Bruce's no-kill-rule didn't apply to monsters and immortals. (Mainly because immortals can't die, and usually a killing blow to them takes them down long enough to contain them in some other way.)

It was almost poetic. One dead Robin made Bruce go almost literally Bat-shiz crazy, but when Robin returned just as mutilated and changed Bats couldn't wait for things to go back to the way they were. But now, with a second dead Robin under his belt it was a free for all. Parents did always get more lenient with the younger children, just look at the demon brat.

Which, Damian wasn't actually here. Jason heard Robin got benched, sidelined for good. Which did ease a little tension in his heart, Bruce finally relinquishing to the fact that the Robin title was a death sentence. Sure the demon brat could probably hold his own better than any of them, but why tempt fate? They were already heading towards more Robin killers.

Although, Red Hood thought as he turned another corner in this stupid maze, the last time he checked the little demon wanted Tim dead too. Well, brat got his wish, and now Jason was part of the revenge party. Heh, Jason was one to talk, for awhile he wanted Tim dead too. But the only reason he knew the kid still wanted Tim dead was because Tim told him. After Bruce got lost in the time stream and Dick had to become Batman (and Damian his Robin) Tim was left to his own devices. Tim thought Bruce was still alive and no one had believed him. He was right of course, the little sh*t, but the war raged for those six months between Dick and Tim and Damian wasn't something that could be fixed instantly with Bruce's return. In fact Jason could remember hanging out more with Tim than he saw (or heard about) Tim hang out with them. If he wasn't with Jason he was with his Titans team, he hadn't seen how much Tim had slipped away from the bats until he was gone.

Call Jason soft, but it felt good cleaning up these guys. Jason never got his revenge, Bruce would never decide to take the Joker's life for him, but he could give this to Tim's memory. Closure. Tim might have been slipping between Batman and Bruce's fingers but the hole had still been filled, and with his death the hole he'd been filling was wrenched out. No one can say Bruce Wayne can handle death well. Especially family.

Looking at the rest of the family, he wasn't sure he could say anything different for any of them.

Black Bat was on his right, covering his side as they ran through more white hallways. The Labyrinth was all white and gross and full of dead people. They found the fountain, and promptly ran past it. Once Oracle had gotten the specs of this place (it was rather large for an underground bunker, but it was all one level) she directed them to areas of importance. This particular place she was guiding Red Hood and Black Bat to had a lot of electrical power connected to it, moreso than any other room. Red Hood and Black Bat were to investigate and take down any Talons on the way. Batman and Nightwing were directed to other rooms, but so far all the Talons have trickled in from one place or another. It was a gamble, there must be a main hub or nest of sorts for these Talon dudes, no one had hit the jackpot yet. Whoever hit the jackpot was to ice the place before the Talons could be deployed to reinforce their freezing comrades.

Finally exiting the maze, Red Hood and Black Bat burst through the door and Jason felt an instant difference in temperature. A shiver slid down his spine, the frigid air nipping at any bare skin it could find. Guns and bat-a-rangs raised defensively, the two vigilantes surveyed the room.

It was large for one, no surprise there, but there were rows upon rows of caskets lined along the walls and in the middle. The caskets were not much different from a coffin, a bit bulkier with thick tubes connecting them all to the big power source that they were led here with, but nonetheless the caskets were undeniably coffin-like.

An uncomfortable feeling settled on Jason's skin. It made him more tense, more aware of his surroundings as if he hadn't been before. Red Hood didn't like coffins and he already hated these creepy bastards and now his adrenaline was pumping twice as much even though there was no threat to fight— so far. There was nobody here except for the coffins, but that didn't mean there weren't any Talons on the way.

Red Hood cautiously approached the nearest casket, walking backwards to watch his six because his hair was standing on end. Black Bat went in another direction, similarly looking tense and careful. Red Hood's leg bumped into a casket and only after one final glance around the room with his guns did he look down. He found a little window at the 'head' area of the coffin. His gut flipped with dark memories but he swallowed them down. Red Hood swiped at the frost gathered on the glass, letting him see into the casket. Inside was a frozen Talon.

These weren't coffins. They were cryostasis tubes.

That's when the purpose and design of this room clicked into place. It made sense, of course the Owls would know of their own murderbots flaw, it might have even been on purpose. They were using that weakness to store the ones they weren't using. It was a way to control them. But that also meant... Jackpot.

Red Hood tapped the side of his helmet.

"Hood and Black Bat to O, we have some good news and bad news. Good news is our job was done for us." As he spoke Black Bat shifted up beside him to inspect the casket itself while Red Hood continued to stare at the frozen Talon. Knowing how the caskets work would be great, he didn't need a bunch of previously frozen zombies to come to life in a huge Talon-hoard. Though, theoretically, it would take a while for them to be thawed enough for action. Unless that happened inside the cryotube as well. Then they were screwed.

"And the bad news?" Came back Oracle's voice.

"We're sitting on the Talon jackpot here. There's a lot of 'em and even if they're frozen right now we have no idea if these guys can be thawed remotely." Red Hood stated plainly as he took another scan of the room for any new threats. He hadn't felt this jumpy in a long time. There was something off about it, something normal adrenaline didn't give him, something that reminded him of the Lazarous pits. That was an uncomfortable thought indeed.

Black Bat was following the trail of power lines, leading up to something that resembled a computer. Jason took a breath and attempted to calm his frazzled nerves with a joke. "I may have already died but I'd rather not be the first victim of a zombie-Talon apocalypse. Is there any way you can keep them from waking up on your end?"

"Not that I can find." Oracle said, of course having already checked because she's always one step ahead like that. "As long as the power doesn't cut out or they aren't woken manually they should stay frozen."

"Great." Hood grunted, unhappy that they had no substantial defense if the Talons decided to go all I Am Legend on them. "Don't wake sleeping beauty, got it."

"Hood." Black Bat called his name where she was paused in front of the 'computer'. Red Hood looked over, she pointed to something on the screen and with her mask it was impossible to tell her facial expression, but even the tone in which she used his name felt weighted. She had obviously found something, something worthy of that note of alarm in his name.

"One sec O, Black Bat found something." He signed off without waiting to hear a response and came over to see what she found.

It was a really weird computer, it looked like something out of a museum attempting to be engaging by adding interacting screens that played historical facts when buttons were pushed. It was an odd combination of ages old technology and modern technology. Just like an interactive historical screen, it looked like a directory with a glowing white button for each active coffin. Some buttons were dark, Red Hood could safely assume what that meant. With each button there was a dial and a small screen reciting statistics about the state of the coffin and the Talon inside.

What caught Red Hood's attention and what probably caught Black Bat's was the fact every pair of button and dial had a name. They all had names. He assumed them to be last names, because what mother would burden her child with the first name like Cobb? That was a horrible name. The nicknames alone were almost enough to put a smile on his face. Black Bat pointed to a certain name and Red Hood felt every ounce of amusement he just had get snuffed like a water over a flame. His gut sank and his heart started thudding in his ears as everything came to a stand still.

Drake.

No way. No fudging way. 

"We're... we're going to have to confirm that before we say anything." Hood said to Black Bat, he got a nod in return. His mind swirled with too fast thoughts. What were the chances? What's the likelihood of a Talon here with the last name Drake?  It could be a different Drake, Drake wasn't that uncommon of a last name. Drake was just the last name of a bat kid who had gone missing three years ago.

Red Hood studied Drake's screen, noting its internal temperature was the same as all of those with their lights on. Drake was on ice right now, and had been for... two years. Save it be a few hitches in the two years Drake was on ice for awhile, but this was no mission log. There had to be something like a mission log, this Drake was used multiple times but Red Hood couldn't tell when this Drake had even started doing missions. They'd have to train them before they could use them and the ice wouldn't help training so Red Hood was left with only enough information to speculate. What Red Hood did know was that this wasn't going to end well for anyone.

On one hand, they still didn't know if this Drake was even theirs, and if he was, well... well he didn't know what was going to happen. If this Drake was just a coincidence and not their Drake at all then it was a cruel joke. A joke he could spare Bruce and Dick from knowing. Jason may hate their guts most of the time, but he wouldn't wish this on anyone. Least of all Bruce, who already went through a dead do-gooding son returning once as a cut-throat monster already. That had been one heck of a party.

Black Bat tapped at the screen where it said the location of the Drake pod and took off in what Red Hood assumed was the right direction. Red Hood followed at a jog, trying not to let himself hope but his heart fluttered anxiously (and without his permission) in his chest. Since when did he care about Tim enough to hope he's alive? Or maybe he was hoping he wasn't. If he was here that meant he was a Talon. Talons aren't exactly... alive. Sh*t. His internal reasoning for the brutality against the talons was already coming back to bite him and he didn't even know if this Talon WAS Tim. Red Hood didn't want to hope he was a Talon because that would suck. Red Hood has already done the whole 'being dead' thing and was crazy for quite awhile but he also got better. Talons... he had no idea if Talons had any humanity left in them. He did his best to ignore how his heart remained full of hope anyway.

Despite his jog, Black Bat beat him to the casket and was already swiping at the foggy window. Red Hood only felt more anxious as he approached, heart thudding in his chest because it needed to know.

With the obstructed view now cleaned off, Red Hood could see the Talon inside. His heart clenched even tighter when he saw a familiar pale jaw line. Red Hood felt like everything stopped moving as he stared at the blank frozen face of the sleeping Talon. Black Bat leaned forward to get a better look, but Jason already knew.

It was Tim. The stupid kid still had the same hair. He'd recognized that head of stringy shaggy hair anywhere. First he was happy, nearly laughing out loud, but as his chest swelled with the air to burst out laughing, it caught in his throat.

Tim was here, frozen, as a Talon. A dead, mindles, murder machine.

"Sh*t." Red Hood breathed, taking a step back from the frozen coffin. He almost wished it wasn't Tim. The disappointment would have been so much better than this. Though if it had been the other way around he would have cursed at the universe for teasing them. It was a damned if they do, damned if they don't type of deal. But Red Hood didn't care much about that.

How was he supposed to explain this to Bruce? Or Dick? His hand went to his head to run and grab his hair, and he momentarily forgot he had his helmet on. "Sh*t."

Black Bat put a hand on his arm, and just through that touch he could feel her support. He hadn't found Tim alone, and even if his family was crazy now they'd all try to do what's best for Tim. Hopefully including staying calm enough for rational thought.

Sending a silent prayer up to whatever higher being was up there, he put a hand to his comm, hailing on all frequencies. "Hey uh, guys? I found something real uh, real interesting."

It took a few seconds, but soon enough Nightwing's voice crackled in his ear. "Spit it out then." Nightwing spoke with a harsh breath, probably still fighting. His guess was proven correct with a grunt and hiss of one of his ice pellets going off sounded through the comm.

"Well there's no easy way to break this news so here goes..." Red Hood took a deep breath. Maybe he should have told them to get to a safe place first? Sit down maybe? He didn't want the awake Talons to get a pot shot at them when they went catatonic with shock. "I found Tim."

He was met with silence. Jason couldn't blame him, or any of them really. Tim was a tabo subject for Dick-head, and that sentence is not anything anyone could prepare for three years after their supposed death.

The uncomfortable silence lasted a few good seconds before Nightwing's voice returned with a venomous bite. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I found Tim." Red Hood repeated, staring at Tim's sleeping face just to be sure it didn't morph into anyone else's face. "He's here, frozen in one of the Talon pods."

"I swear to G*d if this is a joke I'm gonna kick your *ss." Nightwing snarled through the comms, sounding like he was running now.

Bruce still hasn't responded.

"I wouldn't joke about this Wing," Jason snipped back half-heartedly, eyes still locked onto the young frozen face of Tim Drake. "We might need some DNA testing but I'm pretty sure I can identify Tim's face."

The words tumbled out but then he bit down on them. It had been three years. Was Tim's face really that recognizable after three years? There was no doubt the second he saw his face that it was Tim, because he looked exactly the same as he did three years ago.

The thought made him uncomfortable, so he didn't say anything.

"Converging on your location." Bruce's gruff Batman finally spoke, sounding as void as ever. But Red Hood wasn't just anyone, he heard the slightest hitch and breath in his voice, signaling his compromised emotions. Bats must have abandoned whatever he was doing to get here as quickly as possible and Red Hood was again reminded of his own death. This time there was no bomb, but still the right amount of dead Robins.

Dick must have been booking it because he arrived before Bruce, the door to the room slamming open and Nightwing ran full tilt once he saw them. He only stopped once he got to the coffin, and like the stupid head he is he's wearing his heart on his sleeve. (What was he saying? They were all emotionally compromised at this point.) Red Hood could see the agony on his face, the agony of no concrete evidence other than Red Hood and Cass' observations but knowing all the same.

"Timmy." Nightwing breathed, a gloved hand resting atop the casket like he might have done at the kid's funeral if he had fudging went. He was staring just as intently as Red Hood did the first time, checking angles of jaw and complexion and facial structure. The man honestly sobbed, a broken sound as his hand curled around the ledge of the window. "How do we open it?" He demanded, already pushing off the window to stalk around to where Cass was examining its wiring.

"Uh, I'm not sure—" Jason started, that was not a good idea to open it up here.

"I'm getting my little brother out of there Jason." Nightwing hissed with all the venom he could, glaring over the casket like he could develop Superman's laser vision.

Jason hated when Dick got like this. He almost didn't feel sorry when he responded dryly. "Yeah, great idea, let the Talon out in the middle of a raid. Dumb*ss."

Nightwing whirled on Red Hood, pointing violently and face full of rage. Whatever he had to say was cut off by Oracle. Thank g*d.

"Please, don't fight. But as surprised as I am to say this... Red Hood is right. There are still active Talons and Owls to catch, we can figure out if whoever you've found is Tim or not later."

Red Hood's victorious smirk was lost behind his mask so he threw up his arms in a 'come at me bro' fashion. Nightwing scoffed (though it was more of a growl) but turned away towards the coffin. He held onto the frosty window as he stared at the frozen Talon inside.

"It's gotta be Tim." Nightwing said softly, more likely to himself than to anyone around him.

Then Batman entered the room. He ghosted forwards to the coffin, breezing past Red Hood and Nightwing only minimally stepping aside for him. Red Hood's eyebrows went up to his hairline and he almost threw a party, Nightwing did something almost civil for Batman. He kept that comment to himself though, this was not the time nor the place even if he was trying to regain a sense of normalcy. (He was trying to ignore the fact that it was Tim frozen as a Talon in the casket.)(Or the implications of such a fact.)

'Tim is a Talon now. Snarky coffee-driven Tim is now a mindless murder machine.' The rebellious part of his brain that liked to see him suffer whispered to him.

'Shut up' He told it. He could focus on that stuff later, right now was figuring out what to do time.

The Dark Knight said nothing as he scanned the coffin, staring intently at the frozen Talon. Red Hood kept an eye on the door and all the other zombie-filled coffins. Because while everyone was freaking out over who very well could be their dead bird, if they weren't vigilant then they'd all be dead. They were, as Red Hood pointed out earlier, still in the middle of a raid and he didn't want to be a victim in the Talon Zombie Apocalypse if that happened.

Batman snapped his head up to Black Bat who was standing next to the power conduit for the cryostasis tube. "Is it portable?" He made the question sound like a statement and Black Bat nodded. "Oracle, can the Batmobile sustain enough power to continue powering the casket?"

"...Yes, not for very long though." Oracle responded and of course caught onto Bruce's train of thought, "but you'll have time, if the thawing process isn't started by the machine then it could take days for him to thaw enough."

Batman grunted, "Nightwing and Red Hood will bring the casket to the Batmobile."

The silence following was awkward. Jason raised an eyebrow under his hood. That wasn't much of a plan.

"Anything else you'd like to add to that plan Batman?" Nightwing glared from across the casket, "we can't exactly abandon mid-raid."

Batman stared down his first son, Nightwing  didn't back down. "You're emotionally compromised-"

"I'M emotionally compromised?!" Nightwing went off like a rocket launcher, and Red Hood knew what that felt like. "You're the one who wants to stop mid-raid! What are we supposed to do with all these frozen Talons?! Sure, arrest the Owls, but we can't just leave all the undead assassins down here! They'd melt eventually and then we'd have a Talon apocalypse on our hands! And where would you be?! Sitting at home with your new frozen Tim trophy?!"

Red Hood could feel rather than see Batman's hackles raise to the jab. He himself felt alarmed by his words. In the cave, besides Jason's Robin suit there was Tim's Red Robin suit. Bruce's tendency to shrine things wasn't the best thing in the world and he could see the trap Dick was laying out for him. Red Hood sighed again and lifted his hand to his hood like he could grab his forehead in exasperation. If his adrenaline wasn't still pumping he was sure he would be starting to get a headache.

"I didn't say we'd abandon the raid-"

"That's because you never say anything helpful!" Nightwing yelled back. "And how come that's the part you focus on?!"

'Damned if they do, damned if they don't' Red Hood repeated in his head. Sometimes he wondered if Dick actually liked how much he argued with Bruce, and that's coming from Jason.

The two hot heads were starting to lean into each other over the casket, like two grizzlies squaring up for a fight.

Red Hood looked over at Black Bat and he could see the sadness written on her body. She was just as tired of this as he was. Red Hood only sighed again and stepped forward. He clamped a hand around Dick's shoulder, pulling him back. "Girls, girls, you're both emotionally compromised. I'd say everyone is. Let's just get Timbo home and then come back, we still have bad guys to catch. He's waited this long, he can wait a little longer."

Black Bat was similarly holding Batman back, and if it were anyone else Jason wouldn't have thought it possible. Red Hood could see Bruce's jaw work as he thought about his words, or maybe he was still thinking about the argument. Red Hood didn't care, as long as he could get the frick away from these crazies. Or better yet, punch some crazies.

Nightwing turned his glare to Red Hood but with a second of thinking he roughly smacked Red Hood's hand away. "Fine."

Batman said nothing, which was probably a good thing, and turned to leave the room. With half of a problem gone, Red Hood breathed easier. But that left him with Nightsitting. Dick-head was in no condition to keep fighting lest he end up killing someone or someone gets a lucky shot. However, letting Nightwing run with this new obsession wasn't exactly a good idea either. Jason didn't think the kid in the casket wasn't Tim, but he was trying to be realistic because they still didn't know if it was Tim in there. Why did he feel like the only sane one here besides Black Bat?

Maybe it's because weather or not Tim was in that casket, the Court was going to go up in flames by the end of tonight. He wasn't getting his hopes up that this was Tim. He wasn't.

While Batman disappeared to round up the Owls he'd been chasing, Red Hood and Nightwing hurry up and waited for Black Bat to figure out how to detach the casket from the strip. The casket could hover, Jason thought that was cool. Black Bat followed them despite not being on the 'frozen Talon escort' party but Jason preferred that away. With Nightwing being all clingy to the casket that left Jason to do all the actual escorting and he was glad of the extra pair of eyes. Not that there really was a need for an escort, no Talons leapt at them, the casket was dark but remained cold. Nothing happened as they were guided through the base until they got to the sewer tunnels.

Jason was itching to fight something by the time they got the casket to the Batmobile. Any interaction with Nightwing made him want to blow something up, but this was even more infuriating because Nightwing kept cooing over the frozen dead Talon who's likely to be their dead brother. Jason felt useless here, especially when he knew there were still Talons and Owls to be found. These people hurt Tim. Whether or not that was Tim in the casket didn't matter. (It mattered, he was trying to convince himself it didn't. Or more accurately, it mattered in the long run and he was focused on the right here and now.) Revenge was the only thing on Red Hood's mind tonight.

So the second he knew the casket was secure in the Batmobile, Red Hood was gone, back into the Court of Owls to wreck some havoc. Those sons of B*tches hurt Tim.

YAYYY!

Okay ngl tho I am writing this by the seat of my pants. Unlike X this story has 0 prewritten stuff. But that don't mean I won't write for it!! Heheehehehehe next chapter is Tim waking up! And there's a Damian sighting! Emotions all over the floor! I'm excited eheheheheh its gonna be fuuuunnnnn