Chapter Text
Thankfully, Zatanna wasn’t due to come for another few days – something about an alternate dimension – which meant Tim had the time to plan.
“Why did Ra’s think it would be a good idea to bequeath me the League?” He groaned despairingly. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“You could just tell your dad. You know, the Batman.” Came Tam’s unconcerned reply.
It was Monday morning, and for some godforsaken reason Bruce had ordered all his sons to resume “activities as usual”. Tim Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know anything about Ra’s al Ghul, so Tim Drake-Wayne was going to have to go to work like everything was fine.
“I have the feeling you aren’t taking this seriously.” He said, and Tam snorted.
“Just like you didn’t take me being a hostage to a literal assassin guild seriously?” she snarked, “Oh suck it up! At least no one’s actively killing you.”
“Yet.”
“Yet.” She conceded. Tim sighed. He needed better friends.
The League had always been such a pain, always trying to interfere in their work, popping up and killing people unprompted… At least Ivy got rid of relative bad guys, the al Ghuls just murdered anyone in their way and called it ‘eco-terrorism’.
He stood there thinking for a few minutes, scenarios flipping through his mind one after the other. Why would he ever want to be a bunch of terrorists’ boss, he wasn’t Jason!
Wait…
Tim didn’t pump his arm because that was childish, but he did jump a little in excitement, grinning madly. Oh, this was amazing. He was truly a genius.
“I have an idea.”
“Oh no. What now?”
Tam didn’t stop typing, hoping somewhat desperately that if she focused enough on her own, normal work, Tim’s idea might become more reasonable. There must be some sort of karmic balance for ridiculous shenanigans somewhere?
“You know how Jason took control of Crime Alley and made crime rates drop fantastically low by establishing himself as the big boss and regulating all the… nefarious activities? I’ll do the same thing! Just with ninjas.”
The proposition was both quintessentially Tim and just plain crazy. Albeit those two were only rarely mutually exclusive, but still, this one deserved to be up there with agree to Ra’s terms and try to clone Superboy.
Tam couldn’t say she was surprised. She was, however, highly disappointed, both in herself for even entertaining the thought that Tim’s idea would be anything but outrageous, and in Tim, for proving her right.
“…Why?”
Tim smirked, his usual melodramatic streak showing through.
“I think you meant ‘why Tim, that’s an amazing idea!’”
“I meant what I meant.” She said dryly, “Why would you do that? How?”
“I haven’t arrived at this stage of the plan yet, but all in good time.” He declared, standing up and pacing back and forth in his office, hands moving more and more animatedly as he spoke.
“First thing first. I’ll worry about that later.” Tim nodded, procrastinating was always the answer, and anyways, he always planned better under pressure. Somehow having a blade, metaphorical or literal, at his throat never ceased to motivate him.
“I… ok.” Tam massaged her temples and wondered why she even bothered. “Say this works, what about Zatanna? What are you going to do when she looks into your head and sees all of…?” She waved her hand, wordlessly trying to encompass the breadth of his craziness.
“Oh, this? Don’t sweat it. I already have an appointment to deal with it.”
***
Was it really an ‘appointment’ if only one of the parties was aware of it? Tim honestly didn’t know and couldn’t care less: he hadn’t dropped out of high school just to worry about pedantic phrasing.
The Zatanna problem didn’t even deserve the word ‘problem’ attached to it. He’d found the solution nearly as soon as he’d announced he was under a – for now – fake secret bind. It was plain as day: what better way than to conceal the fact that he’d never been put under a magical oath than to do it retroactively?
In the end there was only one magician Tim knew that A) didn’t want to kill him, and B) wouldn’t immediately rat him out to Bruce.
John bloody Constantine.
Tim didn’t know the man per se, they’d never even talked, but he knew about him, which is how he found himself handing a fake ID to a dubious nightclub in San Fransisco. He was pretty sure that if he ran a search on the bat-computer there’d be an entry for most of the patrons. For now, though, he had plausible deniability.
He spotted John quickly but decided to wait a little before approaching the man. Observe, from a distance, evaluate the target and then act. He ordered a drink from the bar and tried to forget everything from these past few days, at least temporarily. He deserved it. After a few minutes of trying, unsuccessfully, to enjoy himself, Tim took his half-empty glass and walked towards Constantine.
The man was sitting in one of the booths. He wasn’t alone, there was a couple of younger women hanging off both his arms, whispering things in his ears.
Constantine didn’t seem to be enjoying himself either and Tim couldn’t help but feel a touch of triumph, as bizarre as it was. But misery loved company, and Tim was nothing if not miserable.
He stopped in front of their table for half a second before sitting down in front of Constantine. They stared at each other warily before John sighed and looked away.
“Sorry girls, but I think the lad here wants a word.” He drawled, voice thick with smoke and a strong English brogue.
The girls in question narrowed their eyes, and Tim couldn’t help but notice that they seemed to glow red in the darkness. Perhaps this wasn’t a simple hookup he was interrupting, but he couldn’t care less either way.
Tim opened his mouth, but Constantine held up his hand, cutting him off.
“I feel like I’ll need a drink before you start… whatever it is you came all the way here to ask.” He downed his glass and, without asking, did the same with Tim’s.
“You bats are all the same.” He muttered, “Coming here all high and mighty, demanding things like the world ought to serve you everything on a silver platter. Did daddy bats think that sending one of his whelps would make me cooperate? Bah… the crazy fool’s in for a surprise. Whatever it is, I don’t care.”
Tim shut his mouth with a click. He’d anticipated Constantine would turn him down at first, but he wasn’t prepared for it to happen even before he presented his case. On top of that, the casual reference to his secret identity threw him more than he cared to admit. Damn, Bruce was right about those magic types, they sure were annoying.
No matter, he’d come here with a goal, he wouldn’t leave without achieving it.
“Bats didn’t send me. And anyways, you don’t even know what I’m asking.” He pointed out. Constantine scoffed.
“Do I care? The answer still no.”
“Won’t you even hear me out?” Tim didn’t wait for the other man to answer what would undoubtedly be a negative. “I just need you to put me under a secret bind. Its not hard, and I’m prepared to compensate you for the trouble.”
Constantine’s eyes had sharpened at the mention of compensation, but he held fast.
“Why would you want a secret bind? Better yet, why should I put you under one?”
“Why should I tell you? It’s a secret after all.” Tim let a smile curve at the edges of his mouth. “And why not you? You’re good at what you do, and quiet about it too. What more to ask?”
Constantine laughed, and it was so unexpected that Tim barely suppressed a flinch.
“Oh, I see now.” Constantine smirked. “You’re hiding something from the big bad Bat. And you’re probably on a deadline too. Is it something naughty? Tell me, did baby bird break The Rules?”
“I’ll tell you if you agree.” Tim grinned with a confidence he didn’t feel. Constantine laughed again, shaking his head.
“Sure. Why not. If only to lord it over the old coot’s head. How much are you offering?”
Tim’s smile bled into genuine, relief coursing through him, more potent than any drug.
“Enough.”
***
The next time Tim saw Tam his tongue felt like cotton candy and his head like it’d been rolled over by a tank.
She took one look at his face and sighed.
“So, you’ve done it.”
“I mean… yes?” Tim pouted, “but you’re not supposed to know! It’s a secret bind. Its whole point is to be secret!”
Tam snorted and patted Tim on the head condescendingly. “Then you shouldn’t have told me. Moron.”
He shook her off like an angry cat, and Tam bit back a smile. It was good to see Tim like this. Happy… not really, but content.
“I have… a surprise for you.” She told him as they stepped in the elevator.
“What kind?”
“The explosive kind.” Tam replied mysteriously.
“Oh come on…”
The door slid open to reveal what had once been Tim’s WE office and now resembled a warzone. He gaped, hands instinctively reaching for his bo staff when a voice he’d grown familiar with called out from across the wreckage.
“Hey arsehole! Your booby traps are absolute shite, a three years old in a blindfold would be able to sneak in. How the fuck did you survive without me?”
Prudence Wood sauntered across the fallen desk, her teeth glinting behind her smile.
“I’ll tell you what you need: more guns.”
***
Tim would never admit it, but Pru had been right. Indeed, not even half an hour later the ninjas arrived.
He sighed, a weary mixture of relief and sufferance.
Time to initiate phase 2: League takeover