omni

The dull clanking of chain links rustling against each other reached Tim's ears and he turned in time to see a hulking figure being dragged behind two ninja. He was a tall man, maybe Bruce's height, and thick with muscle, though slimmer than Batman. He was young, maybe only a few years older than Tim. His head hung low, cowed, a mop of dark hair covering his face. His slumped posture read defeat, hopelessness, and when Tim caught a glimpse of dull green eyes beneath the fringe, he could see the hollowness there. His gaze was unfocused, clouded over, and Tim wasn't sure he was even present.

Thick, heavy chains wound round and round the man's torso, trapping his arms to his sides and visibly weighing him down. His shambling steps were slow and labored, his bare feet dragging against the stone. The two ninja beside him each held a length of chain, one connected to a heavy iron collar clasped around the man's neck, the other leading to a pair of manacles encircling his ankles.

The small procession limped past Tim and he turned his head to follow them. Something about the man seemed vaguely familiar, tickling something in the back of Tim's mind.

"What has that man done," he asked Ra's without looking away from the man, "to need such extreme restraints?"

Something…calculating crossed Ra's' face. It was an expression Tim had quickly come to recognize as one that should put him immediately on guard.

"He has simply been known to be a rebellious prisoner, nothing more. He requires a stern hand. He is a killer."

Interesting, that Ra's would keep prisoners. He must have a use for the man if he hadn't just had him executed for whatever slight he'd committed.

"A little hypocritical, don't you think, Ra's?"

A smirk tugged at Ra's' lips. "Perhaps."

"Where are they taking him?"

"Why so interested, Detective?"

"Color me inquisitive. Isn't that what you like about me?"

Ra's hummed noncommittally. "He is an excellent fighter. It is useful for training the League's pupils."

"A bait dog."

"Hardly a fitting analogy. Bait dogs are not meant to fight back."

"You keep him around to kill your own people?"

"He is a test. If one dies in a fight against him they were of no use to me."

"Does that mean he's never lost? He's still alive," Tim noted.

"Oh, no, he is bested on occasion. His primary usefulness comes from his ability to handle the Lazarus Pit quite well."

Tim's stomach turned. "So you force him to fight and then toss him in the Pit any time he loses?"

Ra's sighed. "This is not the conversation you came here to have, Timothy."

Tim crossed his arms. "We're having it, nonetheless."

"I know where you're going with this. It is not your place to interfere with our methods."

"You know me well enough to know that I can't ignore the torture of a man when you're waving it in my face." It didn't matter what the man had done that had earned him his sentence—no one deserved to fight and die over and over.

He'd looked so lost. And young. And there was something that made Tim's heart clench at the sight.

"Do you plan to fight the whole League to rescue a stranger, Timothy? In the heart of our operations?"

"No. I plan to negotiate."

Xxxx

"Do you speak English?"

The man blinked at him for a silent moment before nodding warily.

"I'm Tim." The man didn't offer up a response. "What can I call you?" he prodded.

The man just stared. Tim tried not to wince. He wondered how far gone he was—little was known about Lazarus Pits, but he knew they could do terrible things to the mind.

"Aldiyk?" he tried. He'd heard one of the ninja call him that but it wasn't an Arabic word or name he was familiar with.

The man flinched minutely. "Okay," Tim backtracked. Not his name, then. Maybe an insult. "I'm sorry." He chewed the inside of his cheek, deliberating. Should he tell the man that he was free? Tim knew nothing about him and Ra's hadn't been forthcoming with the details. This guy could be a Joker-level serial killer for all he knew. Would it be a mistake to just…let him go?

But looking at the man's face, his eyes…he couldn't just leave him with Ra's. So…it looked like maybe he had his own prisoner now. One whose capabilities he knew nothing about. While he was in the middle of what was probably the most important mission he'd ever undertaken.

What the hell was he doing?

"Look, I don't know what anyone has told you, but…you're not with Ra's anymore. I'd like you to come with me."

The man's eyes widened and his lips parted. He still didn't respond, but it was the most emotion Tim had seen from him yet. "Is that okay? Do you want to leave?"

"Yes," the man croaked, to Tim's surprise. His deep voice was rough with disuse. "Please."

Relief swept over him at the ghost of hope in the man's tone and he smiled. Still in there, then.

"Good. Let's go."

Xxxx

The man didn't have any belongings to bring so Tim nicked a few changes of clothes from the compound's laundry and stuffed them in his own bag.

"Remove the chains," Tim instructed the guards, slinging the heavy bag over his shoulder and hefting it into a more comfortable position.

"The prisoner will remain bound until he is no longer within the Lord's walls," the guard said in heavily-accented English.

Tim scowled, but didn't argue.

Xxxx

The last of the chains fell beneath him and the man took a stumbling step back from them.

"I don't know anything about you, but I couldn't let you stay like that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me regret it by going on a murder spree or anything."

"Why?"

"You were in Hell. And somehow I don't think you deserve that."

"You don't know me."

"No." He shrugged. "I don't." He couldn't give a better answer than that. He didn't have one.

"Jason." He said the word as though he were feeling it out, like it was foreign in his mouth. "That was my name."

"Was?"

"Is. Is. Jason," he said with more conviction now. "Jason Peter Todd."

Tim’s jaw dropped.