prettyredbird | Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Strange occurrences were happening all over Gotham's streets. It had all started with Red Robin coming across the body of a child predator with his throat torn out, left in a clearing in the Gotham Woods for anyone to find. He had no sympathy for the guy, but such a horrific scene of the crime certainly left an impact. It wasn't long before rumors of a vicious beast stalking the city began to circulate on the streets. People spoke of viscera and gore dripping from a powerful maw, the moonlight reflecting off of sharp white teeth, and howls powerful enough to make trees tremble. The whole thing sounded completely ridiculous. Tim insisted that it must have been an escaped bear, or some new supervillain trying to freak people out and cause chaos. The more detective work he put into it, however, the less he believed his own theories. Further bodies of the scummiest of criminals, fur, blood, partial canine paw prints that were far too big to belong to any wolf or dog, dead deer that looked as though they had been mauled by something far stronger and more terrifying than any grizzly--it would've taken quite a mind to put together such a convincing fake monster, but it was still possible. When the wildlife cameras he placed failed to pick a single thing up, Tim buried himself in research to find any sort of plausible explanation. Each trail only led to a single outcome.

Werewolf.

In the far corners of the internet, the least reliable sort of people swore the beasts were real. That they could transform into massive killing machines, apex predators unlike any that had ever existed before. They could shake off a substantial level of damage, and without some sort of silver to block their healing ability, they were nearly invincible. The first time Tim had read about them, he rolled his eyes and decided it was time to get some sleep. But as he lay there, staring holes into his ceiling, the idea simply wouldn't leave his mind. His best friend was the clone of an alien, could he really claim a werewolf was more far-fetched than that? Maybe it wouldn't be such an awful idea to look for a pattern, choose the right night, and see for himself who (or what) was leaving remains in the woods. At least then he could be sure.

As Tim stepped into the trees in the middle of the night a week later, Tim decided that yes, it was an awful idea. The hair on the back of his neck rose as goosebumps exploded in chains along his skin. Every sound around him seemed both amplified and completely terrifying. It wasn't like Red Robin to be scared, but he'd never actually tried to hunt a monster before. Turned out being in entirely new territory did in fact make him quite anxious. He hadn't wanted to try to explain his research to the other Bats when they'd nearly thrown him in an asylum that time he insisted Bruce was still alive and lost in the time stream, which meant that he had exactly zero backup. It took all of his training to keep his breathing calm, and his gloved had clutched the silver dagger that he'd brought closer to his chest. Sure, a six inch blade was totally going to protect him from a giant monster. Good thinking, Tim!

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The Eastend was still obviously the dredges of the city. Garbage overflowed, prostitutes worked freely. There were no police presence past the theater that Tim had claimed as his own and only one in maybe five fire hydrants were actually still intact. The city had shoved this place behind it's fancy curtain and what happened here was of no concern to the rest of Gotham.

If there was a fire or a flood or any other kind of disaster here? People would die. But it wouldn't matter because it wouldn't be the kind of people that Gotham really cared about. Unless a senator or a well to do billionaire got caught with their pants around their ankles, it probably wouldn't even make prime time news.

But that didn't mean the place wasn't protected. Red Hood moved through the streets like he owned them because he did. More then a few people gave him little nods of acknowledgement before catching sight of the figure walking next to him. They almost always ended up crossing the road to walk on the opposite side walk and Tim would no doubt hear the little chuckle that Jason gave.

"They're scared of you, Spleenless Wonder. It's kinda cute. Come on, I bet you didn't eat anything before patrol." He gestured towards a little corner bodega, the overhead sign proudly proclaiming something in Greek. Inside, the small space was taken up by tightly packed shelves and humming standing coolers, a carefully maintained path winding through the organized chaos. The path ended up near the back wall, where Tim would see a small short order kitchen was set up. The man behind the counter smiled wide and started talking as soon as he saw who his customers were. The conversation was quick and entirely in Greek, with many gestures towards the back and more than a few enthusiastic nods before Hood jerked a thumb at Red Robin and said something that had the distinct cadence and pattern of an order. It was only when the man nodded and turned back to his cook top that Hood turned back to his company.

"'Gifted' is probably the understatement of the century, but yeah. You mostly got it. Your mom could throw around some serious mojo and I'm pretty convinced that she passed that down to you in a big way. Well...me and some pretty big players who I'm not going to name but I'm sure you can guess.

Just wait until you try this man's gyros. They are legit the best I've ever eaten. You wanna find us some drinks? Limon-lime Zestie for me, kid."

Tim didn't figure anyone outside of a select few had ever actually feared him. Certainly not everyday civilians. So he was caught even more off guard than usual when he realized that Jason somehow knew about his spleen being gone. Was it something he could smell? Or did he hear about it because he had connections with the league, and Ra's was kind of obsessed?

Either way, Jason wasn't wrong. He hadn't eaten before patrol, and often afterwards he was far too tired to do anything more than gnaw on half a protein bar and then crash. No one would argue that Tim had a very healthy lifestyle, even for a vigilante. And sure, there's every chance that this was only happening because Jason was hungry, but it sort of seemed like he was looking after Tim. Much more like the wolf that saved his sorry ass, and a lot less like the angry vigilante that bared his teeth at him the other night.

"Serious mojo." The younger of the two repeated, looking confused about several different things. He'd always seen Janet as a very powerful woman--but she was his mom. Didn't all kids think their moms were powerful? But the minute Jason brought up big players, his mind was reeling trying to figure out who he could be referring to. One of them had to be Ra's, right? But it was hard to imagine Ra's would know he allegedly had all of this power and ever let him out of his sight.

Tim frowned in thought as he obediently fetched Jason's Zesti, and got a cola flavored one for himself. "If they all know, how come they haven't done anything about it?" He couldn't help but asked when he turned back, setting the drinks on the counter. "Wouldn't they want to... I don't know, recruit me or something?"

The thing about the Eastend was that most people had been driven there. It wasn't a place that people wanted to live if they could at all help it. And a lot of the people here had been desperate enough to steal at least once. The Bats as a general rule didn't stop to question why someone was stealing. They just swooped in and put an end to it. Usually with jail time and fines and at least a few bruises or a broken bone if someone made the mistake of trying to run.

Hood put a stop to it...but then asked questions. Rooted around until he figured out why someone was being driven that low. And as long as it was a legitimate reason, he let them go with a warning and a fairly bought bag of groceries. Or medication. Or hundred dollar bill tucked into their pocket and always with a list of local Eastend resources that could and, more importantly, would help in the future. Most of which were Hood owned and operated.

The Bats didn't come to the Eastend. Hood lived there. It fostered a closeness.

By the time Red Robin came back with the drinks, there were two bursting at the seams bags of food on the counter and Hood was trying to pay. Trying being the key word in that sentence. The man was trying to only accept half of what Jason was trying to shove in his direction. They argued for a few minutes longer, then the chime over the door went off and the man glanced up to greet his new customer and Jason took the opportunity to shove the rest of the bills into the tip jar that the man had tried to tuck back behind the counter.

He ignored the flustered words that followed, gathering up the two giant bags of food and jerking his head at Tim to follow him back out onto the street.

"What do you think Ra's has been trying to do, kid? Take you to summer camp? He's been frothing at the mouth to get you tucked neatly into his side since you showed up next to B. It's one of the main reasons Talia wants you dead. So far, he's been the only one stupid enough to try anything, though. The rest are all a little more cautious. Between your last name and all the warding your mom left on you, they're hoping that Ra's triggers all the big shit before they come in to try their hands.

Here, you take this. I'll take the right side, you take the left. If they say no, don't argue and just offer it to the next."

He handed over one of the overstuffed bags of food before turned into an alleyway. A makeshift tent city had been set up, it's people greeting Hood with respectful nods and Red Robin with wary glances. Most of them anyway. A few of them were focused on the bag Red was holding and were coming forward with hopeful caution even as Hood was starting to hand out foil wrapped gyros from his own bag.

Tim supposed that Jason had a point. Ra's did enjoy stealing him away whenever he found an opportunity. He's just surprised the old bastard hasn't locked him in a cage or something. Still, the phrasing made him shudder with distaste. No part of him wanted to be tucked into Ra's side, thank you very much.

"My mom left warding on me?" His voice was quiet now, very obviously lacking his usual confidence. Janet was... Well, she'd never been a great mother, but she wasn't as bad as his father was. It was just hard to imagine that she'd be trying to protect him to that level but never said anything about the supposed magic locked inside of him. Not something he can ask about now, obviously. Tim really hated how little he knew about all of this, his brain was working overtime to try to piece it all together.

The bag of food was a good distraction, and he watched with curiosity as people approached the Red Hood. His cheeks flushed when he realized what Jason was doing. Tim and the rest of their fucked up little family protected the people of Gotham, but Jason was actually taking care of them. Making sure no one went without. Jason was--was a far better person than any of them, wasn't he?

It was clear they were wary, and he couldn't really blame them. Tim offered them a gentle, only slightly forced smile, and carefully began to dole out food. He'd just never been the most sociable guy. After the first person or two, he was able to get past his own discomfort and appear more approachable. Even struck up a few casual conversations, introducing himself and asking a bit about the Red Hood. They clearly admired him, and it made Tim see Jason in a brand new light. He'd never tell Bruce about this, of course, but he wished the man could see it for himself.

By the time his bag was empty, his heart was warm, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He gazed over at Jason like he was looking at someone brand new, trying to figure him out.

He wasn't better than them. He was, perhaps, better than they thought of him, however.

The people relaxed as Red Robin relaxed, offering small 'hello's or 'thank you's as they were handed the foil wrapped goodness. A couple of the older men were watching Red with wary eyes, shooing away kids that wanted to linger or play with the black cape. When the food was all passed out, they offered to take the empty paper bag off his hands, balling it up and throwing into one of the couple of garbage bin fires that were in the middle of the alley.

An extra minute of warmth against the chill of Gotham's winter along with a full belly. A good night.

By the time Tim was looking for him, Jason was also finished passing out food. He'd moved a little further into the alley, leaning against the cold brick as he shared a smoke with a couple of others, his helmet tucked carelessly under one arm. He still wore his domino, but the easy way they passed the cigarette made it clear that this wasn't the first time he'd lingered. The group chatted quietly in Spanish, and if Tim approached they paused for only a moment before Hood gave them a nod to continue. Mostly, it was just a run down of how everyone was doing. Who was sick, who had managed to get a bed at a shelter. Who was using and who was refusing to go to Hood's safe-use sites.

The latter pulled a frown to Jason's lips before he huffed out a puff of smoke and passed the smoke back over. Finally, he said his goodnights and pulled his helmet back on, gesturing for Tim to follow him further down the alley. Once it turned into a crossroad, he pulled out his grapple and the bark of it was quiet against the backdrop of people mulling behind them. Back up on the rooftop highway, he lead them a few buildings over to a little nook that was protected from the wind. He reached into his jacket, pulling out the two gyros he'd stashed away.

"You look shocked, Replacement. Here, eat this before it gets cold." He passed over Tim's foiled food, then gracelessly flopped onto the ground so he could start unwrapping his own. "Did you honestly think that someone could make the jump that you did and only lose a non-vital organ without some sort of protection? Sit down, eat your food. We've got a long night ahead of us. Did you remember our drinks?"

It was fascinating to see Jason talking with the men. Tim's Spanish wasn't nearly as good as Jason's, but he was able to catch the gist of what they were talking about. They were reporting in about their community. Tim's never had a regular citizen update him on how things were going on Gotham's streets. It didn't even occur to him that he could build those sort of bonds. Not exactly something Bruce had taught him during his time as the Boy Wonder.

The younger of the two followed dutifully as they walked away, with only the smallest glance over his shoulder towards the people that watched them leave. A slightly awkward wave and he too pulled out his grapple so they could head out. The nook was a nice spot, obviously one Jason was fond of, because he hadn't hesitated to go there right away. That was good enough for Tim, who felt a lot safer with Jason by his side than he had any right to.

His time was Ra's, the missions, falling after being kicked out of a window--it was true that Tim had been lucky to be alive, let alone as uninjured as he was. Missing his spleen meant his immune system wasn't quite as good, but that was hardly unmanageable. But Jason was saying that it was his mother's magic that had protected him, even then. Tim's stomach twisted a little at the thought. He'd never been quite grateful to have her as a mother, but maybe he should have been.

He frowned to himself as he took a gyro and a seat. Once he handed Jason his drink, Tim gazed out at the city in front of them as he forced himself to take a bite of food. One taste, though, and he was able to eat a little more enthusiastically. "Man, you weren't kidding about this place." The gnawing at his stomach lessened as he ate. Jason hadn't just been taking care of the people in Crime Alley, he'd taken care of Tim, too.

"So how do I activate this magic? Or do I need to go somewhere to learn it?" His nose wrinkled at the thought, because the only person that came in mind to be a teacher was Ra's, and ick. That man was far too obsessed with him for Tim to be okay with that idea.

It wasn't something that Bruce had taught him, either. Or the League, though he'd honed the skill during his time under Talia's tutelage. No, being a community and keeping a constant flow of trust between people, that was something that Jason had learned during his time in that ally. He'd learned it because he'd lived it. Hell, one of those men he'd been talking to had been off and on the streets for as long as Jason knew. The man had no idea he'd been talking to one of the kid's who'd huddle around the fire with him, but Jason sure as hell remembered.

He tore into his food as soon as Tim had settled into eating, making pleased sounds between bites. He'd eaten before he'd left for patrol, but they were only a week or so away from the last full moon, his metabolism was still set to 'stupid' high. It would slow over the next few days, but until then he'd be snacking ever few hours or so. His gyro disappeared far faster than Tim's, but he didn't mind the wait. It gave him a chance to sip at his drink....and pull a book out from one of the inner pockets of his jacket.

"Honestly? I don't got a clue, kid. But...this might help." He reached out, offering the leather bound pages. It was a journal of some kind, handwritten in sharp, precise lettering that Tim would probably recognize fairly easily. "I have no idea how Talia got it, but it's yours. At least, it should be. Pretty sure it's a grimoire she wrote for you, but I didn't read too much of it. Wasn't my place. She was trying to use it to make me hate you more." He shrugged, refusing to look over at the younger boy. "She was a piece of work, your mom. Pretty sure she only used your name once."

Just because Janet had left something to help her son didn't mean she wasn't still Janet Drake. It was still more than he had of Catherine, which had been Talia's whole point, but that clipped, abrupt handwriting hadn't been quite as motherly as Talia had hoped.

"Read on your own time. I've got shelters to check on and lock down. Come on, I'll introduce you to the girls on the way."

There was something special about the leather bound journal that Jason held out for him. Tim gasped softly, admiring the faint glow he could see around it. That was definitely his mother's handwriting, and... the journal almost seemed to be calling out for him, somehow. He reached for it, blinking slowly as he heard that Talia had gotten ahold of it somehow. No doubt to try to kill off Batman's newest Robin and her father's favorite.

"I wish I was at least a little surprised." Tim brushed his fingertips along the high quality leather, then carefully took it from Jason. Of course his mother hadn't bothered to use his name more than she absolutely had to. He'd expected nothing less. Still, the power within resonated without him even flipping the book open. Tim didn't have to look to know that every aspect of his hidden powers could be found inside. "Thank you. For giving it back to me."

It was almost painful to put it away and push himself up to follow Jason. Always the obsessive sort, he wanted to tear it open and memorize every word. But now wasn't the time. Tim spent the rest of the night thinking about what might be inside, dreaming up different ideas. As much as he was interested in trying to find a way to spend more time with Jason, he was just as eager to head home and see what he could figure out.

If there was something special about the book, it was only for Janet Drake's son. For Jason, even as a semi-magical cursed being in his own right, it was just a book. Old and obviously well cared for and probably some degree of 'special' based on those factors alone, but nothing more than that.

Even so, Jason understood the care and reverence that Tim showed it. A connection to a family lost. It was important enough just for that. Jason would have given anything to have something like that from Catherine.

The rest of the night passed easily enough, Hood showing Red Robin around his territory in a way that he never had with any of the other Bats. He even introduced Red to a couple of the ladies who worked various corners, letting them coo over the new blood as he quietly slipped bills into the hands of anyone who seemed younger than his current company. One even stood on tiptoe to press a kiss against the 'cheek' of his helmet and Jason grumbled a little as he turned back to the mocking of the older workers.

He escorted Red all the way back to 'their' rooftop at the end of the night, sending him home with a gruff 'Not bad, kid. See you next time'. So maybe he wasn't completely banned from the wolf's territory?

Tim knew Janet as well as anyone could, so he expected before even opening the grimoire that the pages wouldn't hold the secrets to what he knew of white magic. Selfless hadn't been a word in her vocabulary. Yet somehow he was surprised at the darkness contained within. Dark magic--blood, shadow, necromancy--tools that could be manipulated and twisted to accomplish extraordinary things.

Disgust was the first emotion burning in his belly, but Tim's quick mind rapidly formed ideas on how it could be used in a less destructive way. Using his own blood to strength spells rather than harm another, using shadow magic to improve his own stealth and summoning shadows to have his back in a fight, speaking to the dead to solve a particularly difficult crime. There were options. The cost would be heavy, though. His soul. What was left of his innocence. Even his morality, if he wasn't careful.

So wrapped up in everything he was leaning, Tim didn't reappear on 'their' rooftop for nearly a week and a half. Only once he was satisfied that he'd learned everything he could through research, had memorized every symbol, and was fluent in the secret language in the book. All that was left was to... actually practice. And he didn't want to do that alone. Which was silly, really. What was Jason going to do to save him if something went badly? Still, despite his neglected self-care (far worse than usual, oops), Tim stood tall and looked incredibly determined. Waited for Jason to appear and stared up at him without flinching.

"I want you to be with me when I try this out." It was not phrased as a request or as a question. Tim clearly expected it of Jason, and wasn't shy about it.

All in all, Jason had expected Tim to take a hell of a lot longer to read, translate, learn, and understand an entirely new way of thinking. He'd been fully expecting to not see Tim again until after the next moon. So when the little camera he'd hidden up on that rooftop pinged motion, Jason arched a brow and very nearly missed the shot he was laid out to take.

Nearly.

His rifle barely gave a jerk in his hands, thumping back against his shoulder, and somewhere across town towards Cape Carmine, there was the sound of a large truck colliding with a wall. Just Gotham sounds, right?

It took him nearly half an hour to stash his rifle case before landing quietly on their rooftop, his smirk safe beneath his helmet as he eyed the younger man. "What did I say about not being your lap dog?" The modulator stole a lot of the amusement from his tone, but not all of it.

"You look like shit. And you smell like you might have a little blood in your coffee stream..."

Even with the modulator, Tim knew when Jason was teasing him. He crossed his arms over his chest, cocked one hip to the side, and continued to stare him down. The insult didn't phase him, nor did the little comment about how much coffee he'd had in the past few days. Though it was a little annoying to know that Jason could actually smell it on him, thank god the people who actually gave a shit about his well-being didn't have that capability, or he'd never get away with half the things he did.

"I worked really hard to translate this." His crystalline eyes flicked towards the grimoire still gripped in one hand. "If even half if it is true, there's a lot of extremely dangerous things that I'm capable of. Do you really think it's wise if I start experimenting by myself?" Look, it was growth for Tim to seek out someone to be there by his side for this. He'd been doing everything on his own for so long that it was far more comfortable to continue that pattern.

Besides, he had one concern that rose above the rest. "The minute Ra's realizes that I'm unleashing... whatever it is inside of me, he'll get to me as fast as he can." Tim didn't look worried, but he was. The last thing he needed was to end up trapped by Ra's and have the disgusting bastard try to force him to have an heir for him again. Gross. "There isn't anyone else I can rely on with this, Hood. You're the only person I can trust." He grit his teeth.

Trust. It was a strange concept in this particular context and Jason sucked in a sharp breath when the word was voice so casually. He didn't trust people. Not anymore. He'd been used too many times, then discarded or traded away for something more appealing. The word triggered an automatic curl to his lip and a stiffening in his spine that warned of how close Tim was treading to a dangerous topic.

But as much as he wanted to lash out and snap his teeth at the idea that Tim could trust him...he didn't. Because he'd stalked the boy enough to know that Tim Drake didn't trust anyone, either. Not after Dick had pulled the Robin suit out from under his feet and handed it to Damian, anyway. At the time, he'd gotten a sick sort of kick out of watching the two younger boys fight over the position, a little bit of the bitterness from his own replacement rearing it's ugly head, but even he thought Dick had pushed it too far when Tim had disappeared out of the country. It had been almost familiar enough to make him follow. He hadn't, because Tim had always been a better Robin than him, but he'd used his connections left in the League to make sure the boy wasn't dead.

And now, on their rooftop, Jason made himself relax as he leaned against an air conditioning unit because he knew exactly how hard it was to open up to someone like that after having been burned that badly.

Reaching up, he thumbed open his helmet and eased it off, shaking out his curls as he set the heavy piece of equipment next to him. His eyes were still covered, his paranoia apparently an everyday habit, but he flipped up his lenses so that Tim could see the pale slate of his eyes.

"You're fucked in the head if you think I'm going to sit back and let you throw magic around for the first time when you haven't eaten or slept in the last- what? Forty-eight hours? I'm pretty fucking durable, but that doesn't mean I want to be hit by whatever wild shot your sleep deprivation sends at me. Magic fucking stings and it heals almost human slow. But, if you take the night to eat and sleep, I'll see if I can find us somewhere tucked away enough to not raise any red flags for ol' tall, dark, and insane."

Trusting Jason was a huge risk. Tim knew it. And the little voice in his head kept whispering that he'd be better off doing this alone, the way he always insisted on doing things these days. Dick taking Robin and threatening a mental institution had changed a lot about him. This was too big for him to do alone, though. There was a lingering fear that he hadn't voiced yet. That he would become too dangerous and need to be put down. Jason was more than capable if that was what needed to happen.

Seeing the werewolf's eyes put him a tad more at ease. Without the helmet in the way he could better understand the man's thoughts based on his facial expressions. His fists clenched immediately upon hearing what Jason had to say. It had been more than forty-eight hours, but Tim regularly operated on zero calories and zero sleep. Bruce had trained him to have that same careful control over himself no matter the situation. At times it had felt like torture, but he was better for it now.

Yet his rational brain said that Jason knew more about magic and was probably making a good point. Tim could do more than just hurt the wolf by accident. His powers were allegedly such that he could kill it without ever meaning to. That wasn't a risk they should take. So despite his clenched jaw and visual displeasure, he gave a little nod of his head. "...Fine. I'll take the night to recover. But you'd better mean it, Hood." Tim can't do this on his own this time.

For a moment, the boy bowed up like he was going to argue and the wolf in him stretched out it's muscles and bared it's fangs in anticipation of a fight. He was homicidal, not suicidal --mostly-- and even his more basic instincts knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that tangling with a mage that smelled of as much power as Tim did was a death wish. But the fight didn't come and Jason breathed out a small huff of relief as he sent the younger man back to his Nest to get the promised sleep and caloric intake.

He ran through the rest of his patrol on double time, letting his people know that he was going to be gone for the next night. Maybe two, if things went South. Honestly, it could be longer, but he wasn't going to plant that idea until he absolutely had to. Amanda cornered him and asked questions and he rolled his eyes and evaded and, eventually, she'd cussed him out in Spanish and told him to just keep his phone on him.

He made a mental note to build her a very nice gun.

The next evening, the sun was barely below the tops of Gotham's buildings before Tim's phone buzzed with a message.

'I'm waiting on the street. Hurry up, your security guards are looking like they want to piss on my tires.'

On the street, Jason stood out in his ripped jeans and leather jacket, his ass resting on the edge of the '64 Chrysler 300 that he'd taken the time to meticulously restore back to it's original beauty. A cigarette balanced precariously between his lips as he gave Tim a jaunty little salute.

Self-neglect came naturally to Tim, not because he despised himself (there were periods of self-loathing, but not that severe) but simply because taking care of himself wasted time and energy that could be better spent elsewhere. A nasty little habit that had always been a part of him, fed into by the man that turned him into Robin. Tim was the Robin that had the most in common with Bruce when it came to their personalities. But he wasn't quite proud of that the way he was when he was younger.

They'd made a deal, so he followed through with his part of it. Scrubbed the night's filth off of himself, ate actual, healthy meals (with a little help from Alfred), got a full eight hours of sleep. Even Tim had to admit the whole thing made him feel like an entirely different person. He'd gotten so in the habit of just doing the bare minimum care to get by that he'd honestly forgotten how it felt.

Tim got the text, rolled his eyes, and didn't bother responding. It took him only a minute or two to pull on some clothes and sneakers. The grimoire he'd been give was already secured in a messenger bag that he threw over his shoulder and he was out the door. It was a nice car, he had to admit, even those his tastes tended towards the newer, flashier models. Jason had done a good job with it. He looked good, too, like a wet dream straight out of the fifties in that jacket of his.

"Be a pity to waste the piss." The younger of the two said instead of complimenting it, but there's a hint of a smirk that gave away that he was full of it. He wasn't sure if Jason would even want a compliment from him. Tim easily slid into the passenger seat and buckled his belt.

Jason's gaze flicked to Tim as soon as the younger man appeared, expression neutral as he watched him approach. He watched Tim the way a well fed wolf watched a deer: Assessing the meal, but too sated to bother with the hunt. It was a look that would leave most uneasy, the stare of a predator who'd chosen on a whim not to eat you today. But Tim was not most people and Jason felt no real need to hide himself from the younger man.

Then he blinked and the look was gone, replaced instead with a scoff and a flick of ash in Tim's direction.

"Hey! Insult me all you want, but you leave my baby alone. She ain't done nothing to you, show some respect." There was no edge to the words, however, and Jason pushed off the hood to lazily make his way back over to the driver's side. Along the way he flicked his butt, then slid into the driver's side of the wide bench style seat with practiced ease.

For as meticulous as Jason had been to preserve the exterior as original as possible, the inside was another beast all together. He'd upgraded the whole system, adding a modern sleekness to the powerhouse of a muscle car. With the press of a button, the car rumbled to life and darkened touch screen in the center dash came to life as Jason reached out to touch it. Most of the options on the screen were fairly standard: Music, phone calls, temperature controls....but at the top corners were slide overs labeled 'Defense' on the left and 'Other' on the right. A light touch of a calloused finger and music thrummed through the space, then Jason was easing the car out into traffic.

"You tell anyone about where I'm about to take you and you'll wish you'd gone to Ra's. Got it?"

Tim had never been afraid of Jason Todd. Not from the first moment they'd met in uniform, openly defiant and headstrong even when having his own face bashed in. Not after having his throat slit, getting stitches and then going right back to work. Not even after being stabbed in the chest with a batarang and left to bleed out, because he could still remember the way Jason tried desperately to recruit him while doing it. Being looked at like he was prey was simply underestimating him. And Jason knew it.

So he hardly blinked at the threat, entirely unimpressed by it. There was little Jason would be capable of that would ever make Tim wish he'd gone to Ra's. Perhaps Jason wasn't entirely aware of what had gone down between the two of them, seeing as he had been otherwise occupied. Hadn't he been closer to Talia than Ra's? It was true, Tim had managed to outsmart the man and cripple his organization temporarily, but that would only make Ra's even more determined to capture him in a way he could never escape from. And do some really evil, sick, twisted shit to him in the meantime. Tim did try not to get himself into those kinds of situations if he could help it. Being made to think on it again didn't put him in the best of moods.

"I'm not planning on telling anyone." The younger of the two finally murmured, glancing out the window as his arms crossed over his chest. "But you should probably work on your threats." When his gaze turned back to Jason, there was more ice in it than usual. There were practically neon signs pointing towards Ra's being a sore spot with Tim, and it was unwise for Jason to have valuable information he could use against him. So he forced himself to look away again, and instead focused on memorizing their path.

Just as Tim didn't know Jason well enough to know that the Lycan watched the whole world through the eyes of a predator, Jason didn't know Tim well enough to know that the tightness of that expression meant he was treading on thin ice. He hadn't exactly followed Tim's adventure with the League, after all. He'd put in enough effort to keep Talia occupied while Tim was with her father, but otherwise he'd been perfectly satisfied to get his news from the few allies he still had within those walls.

He'd learn, as would Tim. But first, they had to survive long enough to be able to learn.

The old muscle car wove through the late morning traffic, Jason's skillful hand on the wheel and gear shift guiding the bulky vehicle with ease. He'd learned to drive on the Batmobile, after all. And not the new, sleeker version that Bruce whipped around in these days, but the old tank of a car. He'd had to sit on phonebooks to be able to see, but that hadn't stopped him from loving every minute of it. Even now, he drove with a relaxed smile on his face, thumping out the beat of the song they were listening to against the knob of the gearshift under his hand.

"You ate breakfast, right? Not just dinner last night? 'Cause the energy's gotta come from somewhere and I'm guessing you're fresh outta chickens to sacrifice. You pass out, I reserve the right to point and laugh." He flashed Tim a cocky grin before flicking his gaze back to the road so he could make a turn that would take them deeper into his own territory. "'S one of the reasons why magic is so dangerous. It'll burn out the caster just as fast as it'll burn out an enemy if you're not careful. So, you know....be careful."

Concern? Surely not.

Another few blocks and Jason turned down an alleyway. It was a dead end, a huge brick wall closing off the exit....and yet, Jason drove towards it like it wasn't there, murmuring along with the song as they got closer. He didn't even flinch as the nose of his clearly well taken care of car hit the grey bri-

wait. There was no crunch, no sudden stop. The nose just slid into the brick like it wasn't even there. As did the engine. And then the windshield. And then there was a sensation like dipping one's hand into a cool pool of water except sideways and all of them....and then they were on the other side in a parking lot of an old office building that hadn't been there ten seconds before.

"Someone owed me a favor. Ra's shouldn't be able to even know you're here, let alone throwing magic around. I use this place when I can't make it to the forest."

"I ate breakfast." Tim made a slight face at being questioned further on it. Yes, he knew he had a reputation of not taking care of himself. A well earned one. But he had heeded the advice he was given, and Alfred had been willing to help him out. God bless that man. Jason continued and the younger quietly contemplated his words. It made sense, really--magic needed a fuel, and if that fuel was calories, Tim was going to have to consume more so he didn't end up flat on his face. "I appreciate your concern, though." An absolute call out, and the sharpness returned to his smirk.

Anyone would have tensed up when Jason started driving into a fucking wall. Tim didn't exactly freak out, but he gripped tight at the handle above the car door and shot the werewolf a look like he was a psychopath. Logically, Jason wouldn't want to destroy a car he clearly worked hard on just to kill Tim. And the impact would have been too slow to do more than cripple him.

His breath stuttered when the wall seemed to simply absorb the nose of the car. Not quite an illusion, but clearly magic. Had he known what was going to happen, he'd have spent more time both in awe and trying to figure out how it worked. As it was, he was too pissy for any of that. Tim willed himself to relax and his eyes turned dark when he stared over at Jason. "You could have warned me, you know!" His tone was snappy, clearly rattled by the game the older boy was playing. Somehow Jason always ended up with the upper hand, no matter how good Tim thought he was doing. It was infuriating.

Another breath, and it sank in that this was clearly a very special place. A safehouse unlike any of the ones Jason had set up throughout the city. He was willing to share it with Tim if it meant keeping Ra's away. So maybe he'd reacted a little too harshly. He ran a hand through his soft, dark hair and shook his head.

"...Thank you. I won't tell anyone about this place." Not just because Jason was trusting him, but because any little leak could get back to Ra's, and Tim would do whatever it took to avoid that.

Tim's call out on his concern was ignored, purely because Jason was enjoying the sweet, sweet not-quite-panic that was coming from his passenger seat. If he'd been anyone else, he would have out right chuckled at how obviously surprised the younger man was. Hell, if it had been just a few weeks before, he probably still would have laughed. Watching Tim figure him out and then still patrol with him had been an olive branch, it would seem.

Said olive branch did absolutely nothing to hide the wide, easy grin that sat slightly crooked on his lips.

"I could've, but then you wouldn't have pissed yourself and where's the fun in that?" He gave Tim a lazy, playful wink before he pulled the car into a spot and cut the engine. It was a blatant tease, but not as cruel as it would have been in the beginning. It might even brush along the border of 'good natured', if someone were to take into account the fact that Jason had a sense of humor that had been formed by the harsh neighborhood around them.

Once out of the car, Jason shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it in the backseat in favor of letting what little sunshine Gotham offered soak into his skin. It wasn't a whole lot and it certainly wasn't anything approaching 'clean', but it was still something and it felt good against the part of him that didn't particularly enjoy being cooped up in a major city. He wanted to stretch his legs and run, but communication was hard with someone who didn't speak wolf. Instead, he let his human shaped body have a stretch of it's own before he shook out his limbs and leaned against the hood of his car.

"So. You read it, you learned it, now you wanna practice it. Cool. I got you here and I'm here to make sure you don't run out of gas, but the 'how to' and 'what doing' are all on you, baby bird.

The building is real if you wanna go inside, but I do have some work out equipment set up. This whole place actually exists, it's just shielded really fucking hard. That said, you blow up the water main and someone is gunna notice that a whole city block is walled off to the naked eye, so keep that in mind."

"Bastard." There was no heat to his words, but he did look a little miffed. He hadn't ever been a fan of being caught off guard, even with pleasant surprises. Tim found comfort when he was able to predict a possible outcome, but everything about Jason was so terribly unpredictable. Maybe that was why he was so interesting. Either way, Tim wasn't planning on holding a grudge.

The mageling's gaze was sharp as he stepped out of the car, carefully eyeing their surroundings. Jason was familiar with this place, but Tim was going to need a moment to actually ease his nerves. So this wasn't some sort of illusion or alternate universe, but instead a physical location hidden by a shield. Who was the someone that had owed Jason a favor, and just how powerful were they? Would they be okay with someone like Tim testing his powers there?

"I'm not going to blow up a water main." There was a confidence in his voice that Tim didn't quite feel, but he'd always been good at faking it. Even knowing that he could practice out in the open without being seen, it still felt like it would be safer to be inside. Just in case. This wasn't something Tim wanted to take any risks with. He gave Jason a little nod and then headed for the door, gripping the messenger bag slung over his shoulder tight with one hand. It felt like a lifeline. The jaws of life couldn't rip it from him in that moment.

Once inside, he found a table to set his grimoire on. Pale fingertips gently stroked the cover. Tim said nothing, simply flipped open to a page and carefully grasped an obsidian charm on a silver chain around his neck. Something new. His focus. Those pretty blue eyes of his slid shut, and he whispered words that he had carefully memorized, in a tongue that only magic users would really understand. A black circle formed around his feet and black smoke danced upwards as his eyebrows furrowed. It wasn't the most impressive showing, but he'd managed something on his first try--and that said something.

The 'who' and 'what' of this place were actually pretty simple, but it wasn't information that Jason was willing to part with just yet. Tim had proven to be...tolerable, but tolerable was a far cry from that level of trust. He'd get there, but he hadn't yet and Jason was a jaded creature.

He was still grinning at his little playful tease when he followed Tim inside. The place had been an office at one point or another, though the fax machines against the wall promised that it hadn't been active in quite a while. It was, like most places in the Bowery, run down from neglect and time, but there were more than a few places that looked like someone had gone in and patched up anything that was too broken. The skill of the patches told a story of someone learning what the hell they were doing over a period of time, but only if someone was really paying attention.

Tim found the old conference room with it's table and ratty old couch and Jason watched him through the foggy glass of the windows for a long moment before he turned towards where he'd emptied out all the cubicles and set up his work out equipment. Some of it would be easy enough to recognize, though the weights that everything was set to was beyond anything a human could do, but there were other things that had been set up, too. Thick docking ropes that had been braided together. An actual car was just chilling against the back wall. Something had chewed out it's tires.

He was just starting to stretch out his shoulders as a warm up when he felt the tingle of magic roll up along his spine. It was being touched by a warm, living thing and Jason gasped and spun around, eyes narrowing in confusion as he spotted Tim still on the other side of the window.

He'd never felt that before.

"What the actual fuck was that?"

Beneath the young man's eyelids, his eyes darkened until the were as black as a starless sky. The tips of his fingers darkened too, almost as though he had dipped them in ink, and that ink dripped upwards towards his elbows. A very dangerous sort of power was awakening, seeing the light of day for the first time. There would be no stopping it now. Tim's only hope would be to learn how to control it properly.

When Tim opened his eyes, a faint swirl of joy swooped through his stomach at what he saw. Magic. He was using it. Well, obviously, that was the whole point of this, but some part of him had been sure he wouldn't actually be capable. Baby steps, sure, but those baby steps might just lead him to something far more incredible. The smile that pulled onto his face was boyish and genuine.

And came right back off when he heard Jason speak from the other side of the glass. With his concentration broken, the magic flickered right back off and disappeared. His features returned to normal. He frowned over in the wolf's direction, trying to keep himself from being too peeved. It was, after all, only because of Jason that he had a safe place to practice this. Though when he'd said he'd wanted him there, Tim had meant actually in the room with him. So that was at least a little disappointing.

"Magic. Did you not think I was going to do any?" He groused. Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole. Tim wasn't aware that a new sort of connection was forming, one that he wouldn't have been able to prevent if he had known about it. He just shook his head at Jason and turned away again. Went back to focusing so that he could form that same black smoke, let it dance around him like flames suspended in the air.

The physical changes in Tim weren't a shock. He'd seen magic warp it's users, though not in such a casual way. It was...oddly beautiful, though he'd be lying if he tried to say that it wasn't at least marginally intimidating. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, League pride knocked violently into him, bone deep and heavy.

Watching those physical changes slide back like water to reveal Tim's usual features was just as captivating, and Jay gave up his stretches to make his way over to the door of the conference room, leaning his bulk against the doorframe as he watched. Though, the rebuke made him frown, eyes hardening a little.

"Don't get pissy with me. I've seen magic, I've been in the same room as magic users before. I've never felt that. I was curious, fucking sue me." Was that a tinge of hurt in his voice? Surely not. Big, bad Red Hood was too much of a hard ass to sulk. Right?

He went quiet as Tim turned to refocus on himself and after a moment he sucked in a sharp inhale as that ghost touch smoothed over his skin again. Everywhere the black smoke touched Tim, it 'touched' Jay as well and the wolf eyed his own hand to look for any sign of what might be happening. He wanted to ask questions, wanted to know if there was any clue in Janet's writings, but Tim had made it very clear that he shouldn't speak or otherwise break his concentration.

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

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