and know, when the night has come, you might say-- I was not the only one who would have died.
"That's sufficient," Bruce says in his ear, voice perfectly uninterrupted by the wet crunch of teeth under Tim's fist. Tim kicks the man over and, looking him over, laconically shakes a spatter line of blood off his glove onto his face. There's barely a flinch; he had stopped fighting Tim about four minutes ago, but that isn't always enough to drive the lesson home. The silence of the men around him confirms Bruce's direction.
"Congratulations, David," Tim says to the nearest with a smile, pausing to test his bruised lip with the tip of his tongue. "Boss says you're the best man for the job. Thinks you'll do much better than Mr. Bradley here I really hope so."
"Yeah. Will do." David mumbles, shoulders stiff. Tim can tell he would have preferred if Owlman had deigned to do this himself, but then, that's the message Bruce wanted to send. Criminals hate that about Robin. Criminals hate that about Talon, too.
Tim keeps his smile exactly the same even though nobody's looking at him. "Great. Be seeing you, David. Everyone."
He walks out of the warehouse. Nobody shoots him, not even a little.
* * * * * * * * *
"Can't," Tim says, rubbing his gloved thumb over the retracted blades along the side of his boots. The concrete ledge is sun warmed and his other leg dangles into sixteen stories of empty air beneath it.
Just a little further up, the air is, in fact, occupied Ultraboy and Supergirl hover importantly, twin windbreaks against the bright sky. They're the spitting images of their older counterparts, though dressed very differently. Tim keeps wondering if they're going to suddenly makeout or something, and if that wouldn't be weirdly incestuous, and if that would be par for course on this earth.
"Because of Owlman?" Though Supergirl does look terrifyingly like Lois, there's a kind of rangy impetuousness that makes her less nerve-wracking to be around.
"Pretty much." He's gotten a lot of practice in looking people unwaveringly in the face, and he still finds it a challenge sometimes. Like... now. It's not so much any attraction on his part as the fact she's hovering right at his eye line, and he's fairly sure she's not even doing it on purpose. "Thanks for the offer."
Ultraboy makes a disgruntled noise, letting his arms unfold from across his chest. "Give us a call when daddy lets you off the leash."
Heh. He pulls his leg up into a comfortably crossed position and says conversationally, "Sure. Sounds like a plan."
As he suspects, it is suspiciously bland enough for Supergirl to give him a narrow look before taking off. Ultraboy follows without a second glance.
* * * * * * * * *
Somewhere between the impromptu blindfolded obstacle courses and marathon dodge-everything games, the shouting and cage matches and quizzes and business classes, he can feel, finally, something being exhausted in him, some kind of source at last depleted. Like what he can take is only now beginning to be tested. And it doesn't feel like anything. It's the taste of water. He's been this for a while without noticing, and now he's ready. Maybe even ready to be Talon.