Chapter Text
“Appreciate your cooperation with this, Stray.” His handler said. “Or should I say Tim.”
Tim shot an irritated look over his shoulder. He pointed to his collar. “Not really much of a choice with a bomb hooked on my neck, huh?”
His handler shrugged. Greg, Tim thought his name might have been. The armored uniform and helmet didn’t come equipped with a nametag. “Should have thought about that before you stole from the wrong people.”
Tim rolled his eyes. Silly Greg. The wrong people were the best kind to steal from.
Greg wasn’t wrong though. Hidden away from the public eye, Gotham had taken a smaller scale approach to the suicide squad solution Waller had come up with, forcing captured villains to fight back against the never ending crime swarm in Gotham. Tim was caught because he worked alone with Selena retired and had no one to call for help when a trap fell on him in the middle of a heist.
He had no idea how they had managed to capture the four rogue alphas that had been haunting Gotham City for years now.
Batman had been the first to appear once a series of murders of violent criminals had been linked back to him. His most notorious killings happened when he broke into Arkham Asylum, killed his target, and left without being caught. The only signs he’d leave behind were a bloody bat symbol carved into the body.
Nightwing was the next to pop up, though the general public didn’t know about him, because the public didn’t know about the court of owls and their habit of kidnapping orphans to turn them into assassins. His killings were discrete, the elite of Gotham paying someone to kill their rivals off for them in a manner that wasn’t suspicious.
Red Hood was a crime boss through and through. Unlike Nightwing, he killed to make a statement, someone had crossed him in some way and he’d make a bloody show about it.
Robin was the final straw for the police force and politicians of Gotham. Seeing Batman being followed around by a young man with a habit of wielding a poison-laced sword, along with the strange truce he’d seemed to make with Nightwing and Red Hood, scared them into action.
The Batpack, they called them. Once they were collared and tamed.
And now they had Tim, replacing whichever dispatcher had come before him. His job would be to guide the pack to deal with crime instead of dealing it. He wasn’t the first for the job, but he got the impression that most dispatchers didn’t last long. No one would answer him when he asked what had happened to the others when they didn’t work out.
Tim stared at the final screen for the training module. He’d passed it but, “I doubt I’ll be able to get them to do much if they decide they don’t like me.”
“They’ll like you,” Greg said. “I’d worry more about them getting too curious about you. They like a case they can solve, and you’ve had run-ins with them as Stray before.”
Tim grimaced. He’d barely managed to escape the last time he’d run into Batman. “They don’t know I’m Stray, do they?”
“No. And keep it that way. Trust me, you don’t want their interest. They’ve never had an omega dispatcher either, so you might have to keep that to yourself. Can’t imagine how pent up an only alpha pack is.”
Tim was pretty sure they knew Stray was an omega and he’d never felt pursued in that way from them. But maybe they just weren’t interested in cat burglars. “Do they know where the clock tower is located?”
“They’ll never have a reason to come here, especially if you keep them busy enough,” Greg said. Then, “I’ll give you the security codes before I leave, though.”
“Great.”
“You’ll do fine,” Greg said with a sort of threatening cheer. He tapped his fingers to his neck. “Or else.”
Ten-o-clock that night came quicker than Tim could have imagined. The Watchtower was quiet since Greg left and Tim found himself peering into the shadowed corners of the room with wary suspicion, despite knowing the things he should be scared of were out on the streets.
Speaking of, Tim turned back to the many monitors hovering in front of him. Different areas of Gotham City were displayed, along with crime maps, and a screen each for the four alpha’s, showing where they were located.
None of the icons were moving. They all seemed to wait.
“Here goes nothing.” Tim cleared his throat and flicked on the communicator. “Hello Bats. Your new dispatcher is reporting in.”
Several moments of long silence greeted him. Tim shifted and eyed the mic icon, showing it was indeed on, the team had heard him.
Finally, an eerily chipper voice picked up. “Well, well, well. They told us we might get new blood, I wasn’t expecting you to sound so sweet. What’s your name, darling?”
Tim blushed, despite himself. Nightwing’s icon had lit up with the voice and Tim knew one of Nightwing’s tactics for his victims were to lure them into a false sense of security through flirting. Still he blushed.
“You can call me Tim.”
“Tim,” the new voice was low and angry. Red Hood’s icon lit up. “You expect us to believe that’s your real name? Tim? You sound like a fucking office worker.”
“I don’t expect you to believe anything, because I don’t care what you think about my name,” Tim said dryly. He heard a low whistle on the line, but it was there and gone before Tim registered which icon lit up with the sound.
“I expect you to treat me with the same respect you treated your previous dispatchers.”
“Respect is earned,” Robin said. “We don’t know you, Tim.”
“Then let me earn it,” Tim said. “We can start tonight.”
Several hours later, Tim was less confident in himself. And in the Bats.
As Stray, Tim had been part of the Gotham crime scene. A small part as it turned out, because Gotham’s crime scene was huge and never ending and Tim only had four of the most stubborn individuals he’d ever met to try and stop it.
“Red Hood, there’s a robbery taking place on east fourteenth near that park. Can you-”
“No can do,” Red Hood said. “Give me something I can sink some bullets into.”
“Your bike is best equipped to keep up with a speeding car,” Tim said, feeling a headache begin to form. His neck was sore from sitting so tensely. He kept expecting Greg to come back in and deliver a shock to his collar every time the Bats would argue with him. They must have been monitoring the disaster the night was turning into.
His eyes flicked over to the narrows where he’d sent Nightwing to confront a raging Killer Croc. It’d been several minutes since Nightwing had reported in.
“Nighwing, I need a status update,” Tim said. “Red Hood the thief is getting away.”
It made him think of all the other thefts he’d gotten away with as Stray. He’d thought he was skilled, but had he only escaped because the scariest hunters in Gotham were simply not bothered enough to give chase?
“Whatever. It’s not like he stole from me.”
Tim cursed. “Fine! Robin, would you-”
“I’m all the way on the other side of the city. Do you expect me to teleport there?” Robin drawled.
Tim flushed. Robin was right. There was no way Robin would be the right choice. And Nightwing still wasn’t responding.
A new alarm appeared on his screen. “There’s a riot at Arkham Asylum. Robin-”
“Mine,” a new voice, deep and low, made Tim jump. Batman. It wasn’t often Tim could feel someone’s designation simply by the tone of their voice, but there was no mistaking it. Batman was an alpha.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Tim asked, knowing before Batman had been collared it was his favorite hunting ground. “We’re trying not to murder anybody tonight.”
“Mine.”
He had opened his mouth to argue when he saw the notice for the robbery flash and then fade away, indicating that it was too late for any of the Bats to do anything about it now. He put his face in his hands.
He quickly dropped his hands when an alarm sounded. Tim stared in horror as a fire broke out at the Iceberg Lounge. Suspiciously close to where Robin was.
“Robin, did you happen to have anything to do with that?” Tim asked, his little omega fangs starting to drop in frustration.
“I was bored,” Robin said. “And I have beef with Penguin right now.”
Red Hood cackled. “Nice.”
“Put the fire out, Robin,” Tim hissed. “And Hood, go check on Nightwing.”
“I don’t-”
“No-“
“Just do it,” Tim said, giving a little growl to his voice. He could feel the surprise across the comms. It made both alphas listen to him, but it came at a cost. Deep down, his inner omega was tiring at having to argue with several different alphas at once. The urge to appease them was a strongly instinctual thing that Tim had to squash.
If only the program had let him use suppressants, it wouldn’t have bothered him as much. But no, they wanted him as on the back foot as possible
It was enough to get them to be quiet. Tim watched tiredly as Red Hood and Robin went to the places he told them to go. Batman had arrived at Arkham and Nightwing’s silent symbol hadn’t moved from the Narrows.
It was several minutes before Red Hood’s voice came on the communicator. “I found him,” he said.
“Is he okay?” Tim asked, the genuine worry surprised him. Sure, it wouldn’t be good for him if he’d lost one of the programs best alphas, but larger than that, he was actually worried Nightwing might be hurt.
“Yeah,” Hood said. There was a loud thumping sound. “Wake up, dickwad!”
“Ow!” Nightwing’s voice finally was heard again. “Why did you kick me?”
“Why are you napping on the job?”
“I was bored,” Nightwing said.
“Seriously?” Tim groaned. He threw his hands up in the air even though none of them could see him.
“What? I took care of Killer Croc just like you asked,” Nightwing said, pouting. “I didn’t even kill him. But he’s probably going to be sleeping off his wounds for the next week.”
“And then you didn’t check in,” Tim said. “I don’t have visuals on you. I had no idea if you were hurt or not. If you want a break, fine, but you have to tell me.”
Nightwing laughed darkly. “Please, Killer Croc I can deal with in my sleep.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Excuse me for being worried.”
“Worried? How precious.”
“Yes!” Tim exploded, Nightwing’s casual tone was enough to set off everything else from the night. His breath was coming on fast, and he hadn’t realized it yet, but little whines were coming out in between words. “Worried. Because if I sent you out alone to take care of someone known to eat people and you got hurt, then that’s on me. You’re my responsibility so-”
“Omega.”
Tim’s teeth clacked together with how quick he shut his mouth. His eyes widened, only then noticing the ache in his throat that came from making the low whines of distress. Batman’s voice again made him shudder, yanking on a place that was primal.
“Calm down,” Batman said.
Tim’s entire spine loosened. He felt muscles that had been tense the entire night finally unclench.
“Breathe.”
Tim’s sigh was audible, and he heard several answering noises along the comms. They sounded raw, but he couldn’t place what they meant.
“Better?” Batman asked.
Tim nodded. When he remembered they couldn’t see him, he whispered, “Yes.”
“Nightwing, apologize to Tim for worrying him.”
“Sorry Timmy,” Nightwing fussed. “Our other dispatchers didn’t care if we were hurt or not.”
“Red Hood and Robin, promise you’ll be less difficult from now on.”
“I swear it on my life,” Robin said seriously.
“Me too,” Red Hood chuckled. “What? Yeah, yeah. I promise I’ll be a good boy from now on.”
“Good,” Batman said. “Do you forgive them, Tim?”
“Yes,” Tim said quietly. Still amazed at how Batman had managed to reign them all in so quickly.
“Next time will be better,” Nightwing chirped. “I think I’m starting to like you, Timmy.”
“Hah,” Tim said. He was worried about that. That, and the fact that he had let it slip that he was an omega.
The bats didn’t lie to him. The rest of the night they listened to him with minimal complaint. Tim left feeling like maybe, just maybe, he could make it through this gig until the program decided they were done with him.
On his way home he felt the telltale itch of being watched, something he got used to trusting in his time thieving as Stray. After the third time he turned around and no one was there, he told himself he was imagining things.
“Good job, Hood. There’s a food truck on your way back to the safehouse, take a break and pick up some food for the group,” Tim said.
“Sure. Want me to bring you some?”
“Hah, no. I’ve got plenty to eat here. A mini-fridge full and everything.” That was a new thing they’d been doing. Offering to come to Tim somehow, meet him in person. Tim knew better than to accept. No matter how nice they were being now, Tim had to remember he was dealing with people with a combined body count higher than his age.
A chili dog did sound delicious though.
“Nightwing there’s cops circling the building you’re in,” he said. “Get out of there. Take the exit on the southside.”
“Thanks Timmy! Last time cops caught me I was experimented on. Yuck!”
Tim frowned in sympathy. He knew the assassins from the Court were enhanced somehow. They moved with unnatural agility and speed, but it clearly came with some level of trauma. “I’ll do my best to keep you out of their hands then.”
“Our last dispatcher wasn’t like that,” Robin noted. He’d sounded out of breath. Tim assumed he must have finished breaking up the gang fight that Tim sent him to. “Or the one before.”
“Yeah,” Hood said. “They didn’t really like us much.”
“To be fair, you guys are assholes,” Tim laughed.
“True,” Hood agreed. “But you’re not. Most of the dispatchers tried to give us bad information and put us in dangerous situations. Or get us in trouble with the program.”
“Oh,” Tim’s laughter died. “I’d never do that.”
“We know,” Robin said, matter of fact.
“Sweet Omega,” Batman rumbled.
Tim blushed. It was rare Batman spoke up, and it was usually in those two word clips. It made him wonder if Batman was bordering on feral. It was strange if he was, normally feral alphas had trouble being around other alphas without resorting to violence, but Batman seemed only protective of the three younger alphas.
A loud pinging rang out on the comms then. It was time for Tim to send the rest of the Bats back to the safehouse before sunrise came and the city woke up.
The Bats heard the noise as well and a collective sigh came from them. Tim had gathered that the safehouse they stayed in was essentially a cold, windowless room. With them only allowed out at night, Tim knew the only glimpse of sunlight they got was during their trip back to their safehouse every night.
They’d been part of the program for years now. That was a long time to go without seeing it.
Tim cleared his throat and lightly touched the collar around his neck. He clicked the ping and set it to silent, knowing that if he didn’t touch it, it would get louder and louder until the Bats were back in their safehouse.
“Tonight was so calm, I’m worried there’s still some lingering crime alerts we should wait on,” Tim said. “Maybe some of the gangs got a later start tonight than usual.”
“Uh,” Robin said. “I don’t think-”
“Why don’t you guys find a roof to eat your chili dogs before you head back? Just in case.” On the computer, he changed the status to each of the Bats to show them on a mission still. That way the program wouldn’t grow suspicious of the delay.
He knew the bats saw the update when Red Hood said, “You know what? Hell yeah.”
“Who ever makes it to the tallest rooftop wins!” Nightwing chirped.
“Wins what?” Robin asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hood said. “I’m winning.”
Tim smiled as he watched the four of them race to one of the tallest tower in Gotham. Red Hood didn’t win, claiming he was slowed down by the food he was carrying.
Batman won, despite starting the furthest away from the rest of the bats.
He could only allow them to stay out a little bit extra without getting them in trouble with the program, but the obvious joy coming from the pack as they finished up their night made Tim happy.
He was still smiling when he made to leave the clocktower. It froze on his face as he saw Greg waiting for him at the base of it. He didn’t get a chance to ask what Greg was doing there before a shock splintered down his spine.
When he came back to himself, he was gasping, clutching at the collar around his neck.
Greg tsk’d at him. “Letting them stay out past their bedtime now, Stray?”
Tim cleared his throat. “I was just-”
“I know what you were doing,” Greg said. “Making a mistake. I told you not to make yourself interesting to them.”
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tim said. “They were out half an hour later than they should have been. Big deal.”
He was shocked again. This time he stayed curled up as he felt Greg walk over to him. “Ask them what they did to end up collared like you,” Greg said. “See if you want to give them an extra bit of freedom after you find that one out.”
Tim’s journey back home was longer than usual, on account of his muscles not wanting to work with him after being shocked so thoroughly. He was pretty sure one lady on the subway thought he was on some kind of drugs.
He had plenty of time to think on the journey home. Tim wasn’t stupid. It was possible Tim knew more about the Bats than Greg did. Anytime someone new popped up in Gotham, he did his research. It was how he managed to survive so long as Stray after all. Cat burglars tended to make a lot of enemies during their heists.
Batman had been around longer than Stray, but even before Tim put on the leather mask he kept tabs on Batman and his killings. Eventually, when the others became more active Tim followed their bloody trail with a strange fascination.
So, he knew they were dangerous. He knew Greg’s advice on not letting them become interested in him had been solid. And yet.
And yet, sitting outside of Tim’s doorstep was a brown baggie. Inside it, two chili dogs. Red Hood’s excuse about the food slowing him down made more sense now.
Tim sat at the table in complete darkness as he ate the chili dogs, contemplating his choices. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was curious.
Curiosity and cats didn’t usually get along.
Greg began sitting near Tim in the clock tower. He didn’t intrude much, but his hand always strayed near the button on his belt that would deliver that shock to Tim.
He had a headset, but never spoke. The bats didn’t know he was there at first.
“Advice Timothy,” Robin began.
Tim spotted Greg shifting next to him and tensed. “You’re supposed to be headed to the museum and helping the security there.”
“I can multitask,” Robin said. His icon was moving across the map toward the museum at a decent speed. “So, advice.”
“Okay?”
“If an alpha were to express interest in an omega, how would they go about it?”
“Oh god.”
Greg’s head had swiveled to turn to him.
“Robin’s never courted an omega before, Timmy,” Red Hood said. “Isn’t that sad?”
“Everyone moves at their own pace,” Tim said. “Nightwing, do you want to go intercept Ivy? I think she’s been spotted around Robinson Park messing with the trees.”
“Yessir!” Nightwing chirped. “You never answered Robin though.”’
Tim sighed. “Why don’t you ask the rest of your team? I’ve never courted an omega before either.”
“I did ask them,” Robin said. Thankfully his icon showed him at the museum at this point. “They weren’t the most helpful when I don’t know what the omega in question will like.”
Curious as ever, “What did they say?”
“Nightwing likes to stalk them,” Robin said.
“Look after them from a distance,” Nightwing corrected. “Stalking sounds scary, right Timmy? I don’t want to be scary.”
Tim thought of the sensation he’d felt the last few nights of something watching him. His swallow was audible. “Right.”
“Red Hood likes to make sure they’re fed,” Robin continued.
The chili dogs. “Food’s always a good choice,” Tim said hoarsely.
“Oh yeah?” Hood said low, amused.
“What- what did Batman have to say?”
“Scent,” Batman rumbled. “Bite. Protect.”
Tim blushed. That made sense. A near feral alpha would definitely be more forward than normal decorum would call for. “That all sounds like good advice, depending on what the omega likes.”
“Would you like it, Timothy?”
“I-Ah!”
Greg gave him no warning before the electric shock coursed through him, meaning his mic was still on as he cried out through the pain. When he came back to himself, he was on his knees and Greg was hovering over him, leaning over his mic.
He was talking over the sound of four growling, furious alphas.
“If you don’t settle down-”
“Who the fuck are you?” Hood said.
“What did you do to Tim?” Robin demanded.
“This,” Greg said, and before Tim could move to try to stop him he pressed a different button on his belt.
Tim didn’t feel the shock himself, but the collective groans of the bats told him that they did. They seemed to handle it better than him, only making quiet noises of discomfort. Still, Tim whimpered along with them in sympathy.
“Rude,” Nightwing sighed when Greg had finally released the button. “How often have you used that on Tim? Hmm?”
“Enough,” Greg said. “I’ll do it again if you guys don’t lock in and get to work.”
The comms were near silent for the rest of the night after that. Both Tim and the Bats only spoke when needed with Greg hovering right behind Tim the entire time. From the clipped, cold way they spoke, Tim could tell they were furious. Tim’s inner omega paced back and forth like a beast in a cage. He could tell they weren’t mad at him, but still he worried. He didn’t want them acting out over him. Shocking was the lightest punishment Greg could have used in the scheme of things. The collars were also equipped with bombs.
“Where’s Greg?” Tim asked. He’d grown used to having the same handler escort him to and from his apartment-prison. Of course, he never saw Greg’s face with the helmet he wore, but this helmet was shorter than Greg had been. A little more broad in the shoulders.
“Not your concern anymore,” the newbie said.
“Uh huh,” Tim said. He wasn’t complaining. He didn’t like Greg, but the tense way this man in front of him stood was making him nervous. His hand kept twitching over toward where the collar remote hooked onto it.
He followed him down until he reached the outside of the apartment building and saw a large black SUV surrounded by several other helmets. “All this for me? You shouldn’t have.” He risked giving his escort helmet a nudge. “Really though. I am just a thief. You do know that?”
“It’s not for you,” his helmet said, but he shoved him forward to the car anyway.
His words made Tim expect to find someone in the car, but there was no one besides him and his posse. Helmet’s words made less sense. Especially since they had never bothered giving Tim a ride to the clocktower before.
“Where are we going?” Tim asked.
“Dent’s place. You’re being reassigned.”
Tim’s heart thumped. The last time he was in Dent’s presence was when they had collared him in the first place. His hesitation only led to a painful punch in his lower back and he was forced to settle into the backseat of the SUV.
If he was being reassigned, then what had happened to the Bats? Were they getting a new dispatcher? The thought made something deep within him rumble with displeasure.
Things changed.
Greg had died, Tim later learned through one of the helmets that was easier to charm into giving him intel. Worse, the Batpack had all escaped their collars in the same night and disappeared.
Tim was kept in Harvey’s basement in the meantime, under lock, guard, and key. It was all rather overdramatic, really. Tim was a nonviolent criminal. He could fight, but he didn’t like to.
It took him much too long to realize that it wasn’t that they were trying to keep him in. They were trying to keep something out.
As the days went by, the helmets around Tim seemed to grow more and more anxious. He stopped being able to get information from them and was shocked at seemingly random intervals.
One day, Harvey Dent himself descended the steps into Tim’s basement lair. “Why are they so obsessed with you?”
Tim was laying on the couch. Staring at the ceiling. Dying of boredom. “Who?” His fingers itched. He wanted something to steal.
“You know who,” Dent said impatiently. Fair.
“Are they still trying to find me?” Tim asked, quietly pleased.
Dent came over to the couch and shoved at Tim’s feet until he curled them closer to himself. He sat and wrinkled his nose. “You stink.”
“I’m in heat,” Tim said irritably. “Or about to be. I’m going to need supplies for that.”
“Sure whatever,” Dent waved him off. “Seriously, though. What did you do to make them like you so much? They’re threatening violence against me, you know.”
“Basic decency and kindness I think,” Tim said. “You’ve had them locked up for years. It’s hard to imagine they’ve seen much of that. Try being nice.”
“Nice? They’re killers.”
Tim lifted his head and pointed to the collar around his neck. “And how many have you killed?”
“I’m the beloved Mayor of Gotham, I’ve killed no one.” An obvious lie. One they both knew. “But fine, I’ll try to reason with the feral alphas.”
“You could just let me go,” Tim said.
Dent laughed at that. Was still laughing as he left him. Tim rolled over and curled up against the couch as the first of the cramps began. He was resigned to a painful heat, it seemed.
Tim woke to the sounds of muffled chaos. He’d taken all the cushions off the couch and made a makeshift burrow out of it with the thin blanket they’d spared him. Still in heat, and groggy with it, Tim didn’t register that he might be in danger from the sounds.
Movements slow, Tim crawled out of his little burrow and stumbled toward the door to the basement. He was in nothing but a sleep shirt and boxers because he sweated through the rest of his clothes. He scratched sleep out of his eyes as he considered and then decided against wearing pants.
When his hand was on the doorknob, he heard a boom loud enough that it shook the ground beneath Tim’s feet. Tim hesitated, but the door opened for him anyway.
A helmet stood there, breathing heavily. He had a red smear across his armored vest. “Come here,” he snapped. His grip was not gentle as he grabbed Tim’s wrist.
Tim growled at him, not liking someone with an unfamiliar scent so close to him during his heat. The helmet huffed, impatient. He reached for his belt before Tim could stop him and pressed that button that normally would give Tim a shock.
Nothing happened.
Tim and the helmet started at each other.
“The fuck,” The helmet said.
Tim watched him attempt to shock him three more times before he moved. The guard was on the floor in moments. Tim stepped past him and moved for the stairs, following what he now recognized as several screaming helmets and gunshots.
Dent’s manor was dark. Tim could guess it was night out by the lack of natural light as well. He was practiced in moving around dark unfamiliar places quietly, so he used that to avoid most of the commotion.
As he neared the front door, the cries slowly tapered off until the manor went quiet once more. Tim paused, ears straining for any hint of moving bodies. He didn’t hear anything, but he felt it. The subtle shift of air of something moving too quickly toward him. He ducked down as something large leapt at him.
The figure landed across the hallway from him, growling. He caught a glimpse of yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. “Timmy,” Nightwing fussed. “Don’t run away. We came all this way for you.”
Tim snapped his teeth at him and turned and ran into one of the many endless hallways in Dent’s manor. A loud roaring noise coming from somewhere above him startled him enough that he almost ran straight into the arms of a bulky figure with a red helmet on.
Red Hood. He tutted as Tim ducked under his arms at the last minute. “Looks like Dent made it to the escape helicopter. Bat’s will be pissed. Are you going to come the easy way, baby?”
Tim huffed. Like he would make it easy on them. He ducked when Hood reached for him again and darted around him further into the manor. A giddy thrill of anticipation followed the snarl Hood let out when Tim slipped away from him.
He couldn’t make his way to the front door and Tim had only seen so much of the manor when he was brought in, so the hallways he moved down felt like a maze. There had to be a balcony in one of the rooms Tim could escape out of. Or he could find where Dent went to get out of the manor and onto the helicopter pad he apparently had on his roof.
As he turned a corner he darted into the first room he came across to catch his breath. He hoped the two figures he knew were following him hadn’t seen him slide inside.
He leaned against the door, catching his breath. He needed to-
“Timothy?”
It was a bedroom he was in. On the opposite side of it was a hooded figure with a sword in his hand. As Tim watched, he slid the blade across the crease of his elbow, clearing away a mysterious dark liquid.
On the floor was a pair of boots sticking out that Tim recognized as part of the helmet’s uniforms. The rest of the body was hidden behind the side of the bed where Robin was standing. Robin quickly stepped in front of the body and Tim quickly found somewhere else to focus his attention.
Robin had his head tilted. Tim couldn’t see his eyes but the quirk of his lips seemed pleased. “Ready to get that collar off?”
Tim nodded. The offer made him pause his consideration of running to the balcony to escape. He stayed pressed against the door and let Robin come closer to him. He was only a few feet away when he paused and sniffed the air. “You’re in heat?”
Robin’s scent was mostly alpha, but he still had a lingering milky scent of pup on him. He must have been through only one or two ruts. It made Tim’s inner omega feel more settled than it had around the other two.
Robin sheathed his sword and pulled out a device from his belt. He pressed a button and Tim flinched instinctively, too used to being shocked from helmets. He wasn’t shocked. Instead the collar around his neck clicked open and then fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
Tim immediately straightened and rolled his shoulders. He felt lighter. “Thank you,” he said. He stretched his arms above his head and felt cool air on his stomach for the brief moment that his shirt stretched with him. In between one blink and the next Robin was in his space.
“You smell nice,” Robin breathed.
And that was close enough, Tim decided. He slid his hand into the back of Robin’s hood while he was distracted and scruffed him. Robin whined as his knees went weak, sounding more like a puppy than the assassin Tim knew him to be. Tim caught him and guided him to lean up against the door. He’d serve as a temporary block if the other two tried to get in.
He paused long enough to slide the cloak away from Robin’s shoulders and put it on. The dark colors would let him blend in to Gotham’s shadows easily, and with Robin’s scent covering his he’d be harder to track.
He slipped out the balcony with no further interceptions, the grass cool and damp against his bare feet. He escaped the manor grounds, mind already whirling with plans to reestablish himself as Stray after months away.
He didn’t spare the time to look back.
(If he had, he would have seen a dark figure crouched on the roof of the manor watching him leave. The figure was posed like he was going to leap after Tim before seeming to think better of it. He merely watched him leave with a silent patience, as if he weren’t quite ready for the hunt to be over.)
Tim’s safehouse was compromised. He took his goggles off and pulled back the hood of Stray’s outfit, shaking out his hair.
The clocktower was lit with warm fairy lights all across the ceiling. A large cushioned bed sat near the clock, and a dresser with his favorite jewels laid out on them. He had a gem on his neck from tonight he would add to his collection, along with some of the stolen goods he had in his satchel.
Tim had spent the last few weeks adding things here and there to make the clock tower the closest he could make a safe house into a home.
What he hadn’t added himself was the vase of bright red roses sitting on the tiny kitchen table he’d set up. Its petals were thick, the thorns on it long and sharp.
Tim felt the hair on the back of his neck raise, a moment later realizing he hadn’t thought to look up since he’d walked in.
“Found you.”