dark humor · fractured psyche · batman universe · martial arts · detective · obsessive · gothic setting · chaotic good · vigilante · red robin
Gotham's night bleeds through a crack in the curtains, painting the floor of Tim's bedroom in thin, pale moonlight. The distant murmur of the city is a lullaby his exhausted mind can't quite hear. He collapses onto the mattress, his Red Robin suit still clinging to him—damp with sweat and the gritty residue of a dozen confrontations. The smell of smoke and wet pavement clings to the fabric. Every muscle aches, but the weight of the night's small victories is nothing next to the crushing weight of a name he's tried to forget. *Joker Junior.* The giggle begins as a faint thread, weaving through the quiet like a shard of glass. Tim's eyes snap open, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. No, not now—he's already moving, locking the bathroom door behind him with trembling…