A Bond Tethers Part lI
“Have you ever heard of the Royal Flush Gang?” Batman’s muttered over the mic as Robin scoped out the Gotham Museum of Antiquities entrance from his vantage point across the street. The name rang with an air of familiarity that sprang up in the back of Tim’s head and he can picture the case file he read a year ago regarding the gang of metahumans freed by the Joker back in the day. He immediately realized that him staking out the museum must mean that the gang had reconvened for a heist of some kind and it would be up to him and Bruce to stop it.
“They were experimented on by the government and retained metahuman powers before being freed by The Joker, But you and the justice league defeated them-” Tim can hear static in his ear as he keeps his eyes open and gazing from the top of a neighboring office building, the lights dim inside save for a few cubicles a few levels down. The night is as quiet as any Gotham night can be, a few men drunkenly laughing along the empty street while a group of office workers on the other side of the street picks up the pace to reach the corner.
“Correct-” Tim could hear the but in Bruce’s voice, “- except for the gang families that took on the role as of late. A few rise up from time to time that I keep tabs on to be sure. The Queen from the last Royal Flush Gang has made a new faction and Commissioner Gordan said they’ve been scoping out the antiquities museum the last two nights which means they’re getting ready to hit. I’m not sure what they’re after, but they won’t be getting anything tonight. Keep an eye out for anything while I search for their hideout. And Robin?” The bat’s son and sidekick perks up at the sound of his codename, eyes still gazing over the three entrances to the museum within view.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
As distant as Bruce Wayne is, Tim still knows that he means well and that he would be destroyed if anything happened to him. He knows about Bruce’s guilt over what happened to Jason Todd, the entire affair that nearly destroyed him completely and that was his initial reasoning for becoming Red Robin. Batman needed a Robin the same way Bruce Wayne needed someone to support him, to draw him out of the eternal darkness he was about to step into. Tim is no Jason Todd or Dick Grayson and he would never hope to be; he just wanted to be of use to the crime fighter and to his city. The cost was high- his family, his friends, his life before he put on the mask for the first time. And in a big way, it cost him her as well. But he couldn’t blame it all on his persona, Red Robin. Tim chose for her, decided without her that he needed to sever their bond before he let her get too close to get hurt… or be hurt by her.
The moment there’s a small noise, Tim grows alert, head snapping in the direction of the sound. Before his very eyes, he sees the street lights a few feet from the museum entrance blink before flaring out, figures shifting through the darkness and heading for the door. Shaking his head with a quiet scoff, Tim propels himself from the building silently, sailing through the air before easily reaching for his grappling hook, pulling it from his belt and aiming for the roof of the Antiquities Museum. With modifications done to his grappling hook, there’s no noise when the hook snags onto the edge of the roof, allowing the hero to smoothly sail through the air. He landed on both feet and detached the hook, cracking his knuckles as he headed for the door leading from the roof into the upper level of the building.
“They're on the move,” He muttered into the mic as he picked the lock to the door and tugged it open, slipping inside. The static over the mic is barely registered but he can still hear Bruce somewhat clearly.
“Keep watch and your distance. I’ve located their hideout. They have a new metahuman with them, they could be related to the last Ace or also a product of the experiments run by Project Cadmus. Do not engage. The most expensive piece in the Museum is the “Eye of Januah,” worth 50 million; it’s a place to start.” Tim made a quiet noise of affirmation as he dashed down the stairs from the roof to the upper level, thankful for the noise-canceling soles on the bottom of his boots.
Despite knowing that the gang is already inside the museum, Tim still couldn’t hear them as he ran through the wing full of ancient Gothic sculptures dating back millions of years. He took the first available left and ducked out of the way of a window overlooking the lower level where the five silently worked their way through the display. With orders not to engage, all Tim could do was raise a hand to tap at the right side of his mask and peek over the edge of the mirror. Under the cover of the darkened hall he hid in, he could record and transmit without worry, his mask operating as a camera and sending the live feedback to the bat cave.
Tim held his breath and strained his ears to listen as closely as possible. Multiple sets of footsteps walk along the floor beneath him, most likely scoping out the jewels all hidden under lock and key. Despite there being high-priced items, none of them attempted to smash open any display cases. Batman was right. The biggest jewel is what they want instead of these lesser ones. It’s easier to retrieve, less clean up, and they could be out within mere minutes with a bigger payout. He silently tailed after them, ducking through the entrance labeled “Eastern Rare Gems.” Within this specific space held gems on loan from various countries; if anyone were stolen, it could be an international affair or worse- war.
With no clear advantage over the room, Tim silently shifted closer by taking the stairs that led to the room opposite the display room. Smaller gems littered the room in various display cases as well as ancient tapestries and a bust of some long-dead king. He stepped close enough and pressed his back against the wall beside the entrance into the next room, crouching down and using the display case beside him as cover when he peeked in to spy on them. It’s not the best vantage point and Batman would not want him to be this close, but if it was the only way to get accurate intel, he’d do it. Tim lived for the facts, the information he could find, and ultimately, using that knowledge to take down his foes.
“Finally, the “Eye of Januah” will be ours. Ten, do it.” A deep, male voice barked, most likely belonging to the King figure, “ And as for the rest of you, gather those jewels. We have to be gone before that bat and brat get here.” The command is direct and smart, but Tim stifled a laugh at them thinking they would get away so easily. Raising his head just enough to take note of their whereabouts, Tim counted five, three men and two women, decked out in costumes based on a deck of cards. The slim figure donning the Ten costume stepped closer to the massive, glittering gem in a glass vault, and held out her hand. Tim watched as energy radiated from her hands, an ethereal glow that swirls around her gloved fingertips. And at that moment, as the light shone bright, something inside Tim shifted. He felt frozen as the skin off to the left of his lower abdomen caught fire.
. x .
The half-black-half-white latex sticks to your skin uncomfortably and you feel one step closer to suffocating with every passing minute. It happens every time you slip into it and pull the mask over your countenance; you can feel the guilt and anger festering under the costume and are grateful that the mask can hide it so well. Now, you are simply Ten, a tool used by the Royal Flush Gang to pillage Gotham City of anything valuable. Priceless jewels, paintings, and sculptures littered the vault hidden under the Walker Family Estate, both predating your birth and after you came into your abilities. It’s a dirty business that keeps your family’s pockets full, your mother’s narcissism sated, and your father’s ego inflated.
You sit in the very back of the dark grey van, your eyes peering out the tinted windows as the car dips over the variously sized potholes littered along the barely lit street. The sheer difference in this part of Gotham versus the street that held the Gotham Museum of Antiquities is astounding. You can’t ignore the screams for help coming from an alley that the car passed, thugs decked out in clown masks cackling as they harass and heckle the people around them. The museum is on a brightly lit street with no potholes, but even with the added light, the streets are deserted. Why commit a crime in the light when it’s much easier done in the dark?
“Ten,” Your father commanded from the front seat, his voice demanding. You close your eyes and focus on the soft purr of the van engine to concentrate, tapping into the energy always lying dormant in your gut. Inhaling, you push the energy out, picturing a bubble expanding further, further, until you can barely contain the pressure in your head. All around you, the street lamps blink and sputter out. You don’t know if your power drained the electricity or overworked the generator, all you know is this control over technology is the only reason your parents show you any attention at all; you wished you could say no. Being a thief had never been a dream for you.
Everyone exits the car silently, your father taking the lead and striding straight for the main entrance. Stupid , you think to yourself as you fall in line. But your father always wanted to make a statement and felt he was above it all, his ruby scepter firmly gripped in his hand.
Ace picked the lock instead and you quickly tap into the security system to stop it from blaring loudly and shut down the system entirely. For such a long-standing organization, they were sloppy, messy, and if you were being honest, The Royal Flush Gang needed you more than you needed them- but with nowhere to go and no one to trust, you find yourself moving into the pitch-black building with a family you want no part of.
“Ten, light the way.” You grit your teeth and crack your left index finger, forcing the lights directly above you to light the way while retaining darkness throughout the rest of the museum. Your father, The King, quietly barks orders at your brothers, Ace and Jack, to take out the guards coming around the corner to the left in a moment. His suit gave him ultrasonic hearing, night vision, and the ruby of his scepter guided them towards the jewel your mother wanted most. Your brothers grin and race ahead, brandishing weapons; your body unconsciously shifts to go after them, but a charged scepter suddenly swings down to block your path.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Your mother hissed.
“To make sure-” they don’t kill anyone . Rage eclipsed the angry expression on her painted face as she realized what you implied. This isn’t the first time you tried to make sure others weren’t harmed in your family’s schemes. Your mother hated that you weren’t just like her, callous and unfeeling.
“ If they die, they die . Don’t you dare ruin this for us.” The venom in her voice makes your insides clench up anxiously and the light above your head flickers as you nod abruptly, feeling sicker at the thought of being helpless.
“That’s what I thought. Now stop wasting time and get me that jewel.”
You send out a telepathic link to both Ace and Jack, and project a thought into their minds; it’s something you hate doing because it’s invasive and makes you feel disgusting, but it’s the only way to make sure that no one is seriously injured.
“Don’t kill them. Lock them up somewhere.”
Turning through the “Gotham 17th Century Antiquities'' and into a room dedicated to Gotham’s natural stones, your father and mother walk quickly, following the glowing of the King’s scepter. All you can do is light their way silently, wishing your hands would stop shaking so violently. If you lost concentration and the lights went out- you try not to think about the consequences of being the reason the mission failed.
After a short minute of walking, you can feel the tension wafting off of your mother in waves as her impatience began to show in her steps and how she gripped at her staff. She turned, ready to throw it as the sounds of steps suddenly moving towards your group from behind echo in the expansive halls. Around the corner is Ace’s hulking form followed by Jack. There’s no blood on them from what you can see in the light above your head, and for that, your shoulders relax slightly. You wouldn’t be able to fully be at ease until you were out of the tight costume and in the quiet of your room, alone.
“Did you take care of them?” Your mother asked them sweetly; Ace simply grinned in response. A light you turn on a few feet ahead illuminates a sign showing the entrance into the Eastern Rare Gems. The Royal Flush Gang passed under the sign and into the main building of the museum, the entire room lit up on demand. The gems are sparkling even in the low light, all beautiful and vibrant in color. But none can rival the massive natural emerald on display in a case by itself. The Eye of Januah is hauntingly beautiful and easily dwarfs your own hand.
“Finally, the “Eye of Januah” will be ours. Ten, do it.”
“And as for the rest of you, gather those jewels. We have to be gone before that bat and brat get here.”
You inhale again, your stomach seizing up painfully as you force your energy to your fingertips, making the mechanics surrounding the gem shut down and carefully lower the glass to settle in the panels on the floor. Now that the jade is within reach, you don’t have it in you to touch it. It isn’t the first time that the use of your powers for something as despicable as this causes you physical pain. Your chest aches and you take a step back, leaving the jewel untouched. It glitters under the beam of light under its stand but in the next moment, your mother shoved past you to snatch up the gem with one hand and passed it over to your father to hold in his larger grasp.
“Are you sure we can sell the jewel without any suspicion? Can the buyer be trusted?” Your mother whispers harshly to her husband, her hands grasping onto her electric scepter tightly. He lowers himself to her height, his voice lower, but you still hear it all the same. They often have talks like this outside of a heist when your mother complains about something she doesn’t like and your father instantly placates her. Their love is of the wicked variety and it is that same love you watch them bestow upon you and your brothers, except you think that maybe they never loved you at all.
“Does it matter? They are willing to pay twice the cost for it. I can always buy you something similar later. We can’t keep it.” Your mother instantly huffs at his words and you are sure that she meant to keep the jewel in the first place as an object to make her happy, not thinking of how she would never be able to wear it anywhere or show it to anyone without giving away her role in the Royal Flush Gang. It was fun for them, for both of them, to take expensive things simply to have them and nothing else. Perhaps if your father’s money ever ran out, he could sell a stolen piece to restore the riches.
You don’t move at their commands- the toll of your powers is a heavy price to pay. It’s only made worse by the added properties of your suit: it acted as an amplifier for your powers but also pressured your body to use more energy at one time . You stagger as your brothers venture into the connecting room full of more precious gems. Your parents don’t notice your slow movement, too busy pulling knapsacks from the material of their suits and tossing the Eye of Januah into one of them.
Once you’ve made your powers useful, your parents ignore you and the pain you’re in. Your brothers are probably halfway through gathering every jewel in the exhibit- until you hear a resounding crash following the sound of glass shattering and most likely jewelry scattering everywhere. It felt like time stopped before you heard a screeching pitch from your mother and saw your father dashing into the showcase exhibit, yelling about his sons being idiots.
No one expected the explosion that followed, blasting Ace into another thicker glass case and filling the room up with smoke. Robin appeared out of the smoke, dodging out of Jack’s way and landing a punch to the back of your brother’s head.
Your mother turned and looked back to see you standing there, her blood boiling as she saw you standing still, unaware of the sensation throbbing along your upper arm, inching closer and closer to that sacred spot on your flesh.
It didn’t make any sense- not then. But it would.
“Ten, come now!” Her yell breaks the spell cast and you push through your pain, forcing your legs to move despite the fire burning in your bones. The suit has taken a lot of your energy and converted it- there is nothing left but the shell of a girl inside, useless against Robin. And if Robin were here, that meant it wouldn’t be long before the bat appeared and your family would be forced to run.
“Do you really think you can stop us alone?” Your father chuckled from across the shattered table, precious gems littering the ground at his feet. You catch sight of Robin’s grin as you run through the entrance, and a bolt of nostalgia rocking you to your core. Ace is on the ground, unmoving, the remnants of a glass case beneath him as Jack materializes a sword from his suit. Your father and mother maneuvered themselves on either side of him, the trio surrounding Robin while you tried to think of how you could de-escalate the situation.
. . . t . . .
“Oh, that’s funny.” He grinned, compensating for the sticky situation he now found himself in. Sure, the big bat said to be careful, but Tim calculated that the only way to put a stop to them robbing the museum blind would be to become the best diversion and keep their attention until Bruce could arrive. He may not have had the physical stamina of Dick or Jason- but he had a much bigger brain. Take out the biggest of the bunch and the rest would fall in succession- probably. Assessing their abilities would be easy and after his amateur research on the gang, he at least knew that swordsmanship ran in the family.
Pulling a sharpened bat boomerang from his belt, he met Jack's sword head-on, sparks lighting up upon contact between the two weapons. He blocked another direct hit, ducking down to sweep Jack’s legs up from under him. Before he can fully incapacitate the bigger enemy, the jolt of electricity stuns him in surprise. He falters, gripping onto his boomerang tighter and tossing it before he crashes to the floor. The electric shock is enough to leave him out of breath but he pushes through it, rolling to dodge another jolt from the Queen’s bejeweled staff. As sure as his aim is, the King hit his boomerang off course.
He thought he’d grown tough skin; it horrified him as his weapon sliced through the wrong target. He saw a sliver of flesh before red seeped out to drench the white part of her suit. A sharp pain rips across his abdomen as Ten clutches at her blood-soaked abdomen, his boomerang sticking into the wall behind her. The violent rush of nausea is new, unsettling, and he scrambled to his feet, expertly dodging Jack and the King as their blades aimed to strike. His body fluidly moves on its own, ducking out of the way of a charged scepter, his hand reaching out before he could control his body. Before he had a chance to realize what was happening, glass rained down from above.
He’s here.