Chapter Text
Timothy Jackson Drake could vividly remember when he first heard the news of what happened. He could remember almost exactly what the reporters said about it.
An unfortunate tragedy.
Lost too young.
A saddening accident.
They all spoke in hushed tones and solemn voices while reporting the death of the boy that not 8 months prior they callously tore into as Bruce's "charity case." All of it made Tim sick. He could only imagine what truly happened to his idol. Only speculate who stole his favorite Robin's life away.
There was only one person that Tim could think of who was insane enough to try this... and was clever enough to succeed. The very same man who was brought back to Arkham beaten to a bloody pulp almost a week later.
The Joker.
Idily, as Tim strolled down the decrepit streets of Gotham, he wondered how Dick Grayson was handling the murder of his successor. The man hadn't really been on good terms with his replacement until a month or two before his death. Was he mourning him? Or was he secretly glad that the 16-year-old was gone?
The sounds of fighting could be heard a few blocks away with accompanying screams of terror.
Tim didn't have to wonder about how Batman was handling his grief. Since his initial return to Gotham, "Brucie" had never been gone on such a long vacation. Batman had never yet been so terrifyingly vicious. The man was no longer the Bruce Wayne that Jason Todd had been adopted by. He was angry. He was destructive. He was more vengeful than ever before. You could argue that this is what Jason would want. He would want Bruce to avenge his death and finally end the madman that terrorized Gotham. The clown would never be able to hurt anyone else ever again. But would Jason really want that if it destroyed Bruce and consequently Batman in the process?
In truth, it doesn't really matter. Either way, the Joker would die tonight.
This was the first time since Jason's death that the Joker managed to escape from Arkham. 6 months since the incident was first televised and Tim Drake deduced who to hold responsible for Robin's death. Tonight, he was out for blood.
See, it doesn't matter to Tim if he gets his hands dirty. It doesn't matter to him if he has to live with his decisions for the rest of his life. This was him time to shine and enact his own justice. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and... a life for a life. All that matters to him is that his heroes will continue to be the beacon of hope for Gotham that they have always been. For them to shine just as brightly for the world and not have to worry about the Joker's death being on their conscience. Tim has always been ok with supporting them while staying hidden in the shadows. And now, he will avenge one of them so the others never have to suffer through the burden of that choice.
Tim had prepared for the last six months to carry out his revenge scheme. He calculated every possibility and planned for anything that could go wrong. He was ready to put everything into action.
He ghosted through Gothams' nightlife, weaving in and out of the crowds, able to pass by completely unnoticed by those around him. The guard of the shady nightclub didn't notice him either. And that was important. He was too busy paying attention to the girl hanging on his arm to see the 14-year old lift his gun off of him.
So far everything was going according to plan.
1. Distract the guard. (Hire someone too?)
2. Steal his gun off of him. Wear gloves.
Now he had everything he needed in order to make this work. Tim prayed those countless hours at the range paid off, he couldn't afford to fuck this up. All he needed to do was locate his target, get him alone and it would all be over. Luckily, a fair had just been shut down due to the Joker's escape, and the Clown Prince of Crime was never one to miss an opportunity. The chances of the Joker setting up shop there even just for a short time was extremely high. And so that's where Tim was heading.
Tim skateboarded to a large apartment building and hid his board behind a dumpster. The ride over had been uneventful but nerve-wracking, he had to make sure to dodge out of all the cameras' line of sight. He climbed up the ladder with a sense of urgency. If someone saw him, they would likely call the cops and this all would be for nothing. Tim couldn't let himself be caught until after the deed was done. While he would prefer to remain free, he didn't particularly care if he got caught. As long as he wasn't caught beforehand, he would be fine. The only one who would care about the Joker's death enough to investigate would be Bruce and he would have a hard time coming up with something that could link back to Tim, especially in terms of motive. He would have to prove that a 14-year-old who had never encountered the Joker before had for some reason decided to assassinate him. So long as Tim wasn't caught anywhere near the scene, he would be safe.
Tim cursed under his breath. Right now wasn't the time to be worrying about these things. On the rooftop where he now stood there was an old, large, and decrepit spotlight. While not ideal, it would work for Tim's purposes of getting the guards away from the Joker and making absolutely certain that both Batman and the Joker were distracted. He slapped the home-made bat symbol onto the light and aimed it onto the fairgrounds. It wouldn't take too long for the hero to see, today's patrol route typically passed by here in ten more minutes. Just enough time for Tim to make it into the vents on the side of the building.
3. Make a scene to distract the guards, Batman, and the Joker.
4. Go through the vents.
Almost immediately after the signal turned on some of the guards took off. Others were merely driven out into the open. It wasn't because they were eager to fight the Batman, no, the recent streak of brutality that the hero was displaying was enough to make any remaining lackeys want to have the option to run if things went wrong. They pooled out of the doors just as Tim was finishing replacing the vent covers. Everything so far was going according to plan.
As if on cue, the sound of a cape swishing broke through the silence and was soon followed by screams of terror and shouts of pain. Tim was on the clock now, at the minimum he would have ten minutes to carry this out. But that was okay, for the biggest threats to his plan bar the Joker himself were taken care of. The guards were distracted and so was the Batman, so there was no one to protect the Joker.
The sounds of crackling laughter were upon him now. Just across the room from Tim's hiding place stood the infamous madman. He was only 6 feet away from him. This was his moment. The Joker, in all his gruesome glory, was giggling while listening to the sounds of fighting through his walkie talkie. Time seemed to stand still like the world was holding its breath while waiting for what Tim would do. This was it, the moment where Timothy Jackson Drake would do what Batman could never bring himself to do. He would avenge Jason. He would avenge Robin.
He took a soundless breath and held it as he aimed the handgun. His heart seemed to be beating out of his chest and pounded in his ears, giving Tim a moment of irrational panic thinking his target would hear him. He took his shot.
The Joker's laughter was cut off as he crumpled to the ground and red began dying the area around his heart. Tim had hit his mark. But he wasn't going to be taking any chance. He emerged from the vent with the grace and stealth only gifted to someone who had been honing it for years. He stood in front of his dying victim and held the gun level with the madman's forehead.
"Last words?" Tim asked quietly.
"Who the hell a-are you supposed to be?"
Tim didn't respond. He merely sighed, and FIRED.
5. Kill Him.
Tim watched the monster collapse with a sense of morbid fascination. The corpse's forehead hit the ground with a sickening squelch. The blood pooled around it quickly. But Tim was out of time, for at some point between the first shot and the second, the white noise in the background of Batman fighting went silent.
Tim didn't waste a second longer. He disappeared back into the vents and out into the alley. The bodies of the broken and beaten mercenaries lay scattered around the open space and sirens could be heard in the distance. Tim slipped into the shadows once more, grabbed his skateboard, and went home.