Chapter 17
He knew. How could he know? Tim raised a hand to his domino mask, feeling the flexible plastic still secure in place.
“Oh I know who you are Timothy Drake,” Black Mask leaned forward, hissing through his straight, white teeth. “I’ve been watching you. I have to admit, I struggled to see why your parents fought to pass the company down to you. They never seemed to want to take you with them on their little trips.”
Tim stared at the man’s skeletal mask, unmoving. Black Mask glanced at Harry.
“The Drakes hadn’t even mentioned you. I guess one heir was enough.” He tapped his gun against his chin thoughtfully. “I thought I could use you, that you would bend like your parents but then…” Black Mask eyes turned jet black. “Two new vigilantes appeared on the streets and I forgot about the Drake brats.” He stepped forward, pushing Tim and Harry backwards, spitting out his words.
“My products disappeared off the streets, my men were shut behind bars and Batman…” Black Mask laughed. It was a horrible sound. “I’d say a little birdie kept tipping him off.” The back of Tim’s shoe nudged against Amelia, stopping him moving any further. He could feel his magic coiled up inside him, begging for a release but even if he could kill Black Mask, his men were still armed, their guns trained on Harry and Tim.
“And no matter how many men I sent out, the vigilantes kept coming back each night.”
If Tim was Robin he might have responded with some funny quip, laughing at the crime lord defeated by two children but Tim wasn’t Robin. He couldn’t save Amelia or Harry or Damian. If he was alone in this room, would Batman even try and save him? He could hear his parents voices in his head, telling him he was a failure, a child. Tim was surprised they ever fought to keep him as their heir. He supposed his last name was the only thing his parents liked about him. Harry squeezed his hand in return, pushing forward and shielding Tim.
“You flatter us,” Harry said, “and here was me thinking that those men just wanted to be our friends.”
Black Mask struck Harry across the face with the butt of his gun. He grabbed the scruff of Harry’s suit and drew him close enough. “Don’t test me Drake,” specks of spit flew onto Harry’s face, “it would be easy to kill you.”
“Why don’t you?” Tim focused Black Mask’s attention back on him and not the bruise forming on Harry’s cheek.
“I know the stories,” Black Mask let go of Harry’s collar and he stumbled back into Tim. “I heard the Joker’s body was little more than ash after he tried to kill one of Batman’s sons.”
“Batman isn’t…”
“Oh, don’t insult me. I saw him at the gala, the way he looked at you two.”
“You were there…but…” Wait, the gala. Batman wasn’t at the gala, Bruce was.
“Ah,” Blask Mask grinned widely, “you haven’t realised. I suppose you thought the Joker would keep your dad’s little secret, that it would die with him.” Black Mask reached into his innermost jacket pocket and pulled out a purple envelope printed with a picture of a joker playing card.
“And yet a week after the clown was in his grave, I found this in my letterbox.” He raised his gun back up, pointing it at Tim’s head. “So, I repeat. Leave Gotham or it won’t just be a bullet through the slut’s brain. I might not want to risk the Bat’s wraith but there are plenty of people who I know would be interested to learn exactly who is behind the cowl. How long do you think it will take for someone to hunt down the street rat at school or Wayne’s new boy at his next gala?”
Tim stared at the purple envelope.
“I…”
WHACK! Somehow Amelia had worked her way out of her bindings while Black Mask was focused on Tim. She stood before the ten armed men could stop her and hit Black Mask right in the throat with a closed fist. “You sick fuck!” Amelia hit him again and again, shoving Tim and Harry back. Black Mask seemed too surprised to stop her. “No one hurts my friends!” The masked men couldn’t shoot Amelia without the risk of hitting Black Mask and Tim took the distraction to fire off his magic. It crackled out of him like fire causing the men to involuntarily step away, raising their hands to protect their faces. Damian pulled off the invisibility cloak and leapt into action, slicing at anyone who dared to look at him. Blood splattered against the white walls in a grotesque abstract painting.
“Threaten my brothers again and I will make you choke on your own heart,” Damian growled, slicing across a man’s shoulder, leaving a bloody spatter on his white skull mask. Harry kicked one man’s knees out from under him and levitated another by his belt into the air. Outside the room, Tim thought he heard another fight going on. There were muffled shouts and the sounds of pained grunts. Was Batman coming for them? Tim turned towards the door, hope rising in his chest. He should have known it was never that easy.
The sound of a gun going off was deafening.
Tim spun around just in time to see Amelia fall to the ground. The fighting stopped as everyone watched Amelia’s crash onto the concrete, her face frozen in a look of shock, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. A thin trickle of blood poured from the side of her head, slowly pooling around her. Tim fell to his knees beside her, not caring about the blood soaking into his pants and hastened to stem the flow with his fingers. It was of no use. She was already dead.
“And I believe that’s my cue,” Black Mask said, cocking his head to the side and listening to the scuffle of movement outside the room. He drew a white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped down his gun. Not evening looking down, Black Mask stepped over Amy and towards the door. At the exit, he looked over his shoulder at Harry, Tim and Damian frozen in place. “Remember what I said Drake. I will not be so merciful next time.” He clicked his fingers and his men followed him out of the room, supporting their many injuries. The door slammed just and Tim still didn’t move.
He kept his hand against the wound in Amy’s head, his fingers doing little to stop the flow of blood.
“Amy,” his voice broke, “Amy.”