Fic: Blood is the Beginning | DCU | Jason, Tim, etc | R | 1/4
Title: Blood is the Beginning - Part 1
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake (more characters in future parts)
Rating: R - for bloody violence
Word Count: 930
Prompt: For my dcu_freeforall challenge claim - Writer's Choice: Blood; For the 2008 DCU Free For All Autumn Challenge - Bludgeon; For the 2008 DCU Fic/Art Halloween Challenge - Apples (apple cider), Potions, Cemeteries, Gotham; For 50_darkfics - Blood
Summary: Tim crosses paths with the last person he'd expected to see on Halloween night.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing, but I play with it all like it were mine. MOWAHAHAHAHA!!!! *evil grin*
Author's Notes: At last, the plot bunny bites!! This was written for the challenges mentioned above, and for merfilly's All Souls Day Challenge. I am nothing, if not a multi-tasker. ^_~
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Blood is the Beginning - Part 1
Blood. The sharp taste of his own blood filled his mouth quickly, welling beneath his tongue, sliding over his gums. Blood. And... the pain. Two teeth, maybe more, knocked loose or shattered. His face was on fire with pain.
Dirt and blood beneath his fingernails, blood and saliva splattering on the ground where it dribbled from his parted lips, and pain everywhere.
The next hit came crashing down on his back, CRACK after the whoosh of the metal bar through the air. Air driven out of his lungs as he crumpled to the ground. Air. He needed air, couldn't breathe.
CRACK.
Cracked ribs. Pain. Fear. Couldn't breathe.
Laughter. Loud. Ears hurt with it. Mocking, insane.
CRACK.
No!!! Please, no! he begged silently, no air to scream with, his eyes stinging with tears.
CRACK.
Shattered femur. Pain. More blood. He couldn't stand, couldn't get up. Pain was his world. Eternal misery. Blood.
CRACK.
Blackness.
* * * * *
Blood. Screaming. Air. God, air!! He could breathe again. Air! But...
Darkness. Silk. Pain. Where am I?
Air growing thinner. Small space. Panic singing at him with utter terror.
Dig.
Screaming.
Blood.
* * * * *
On Halloween night the Bats tended to split up the city into sectors, all warm bodies on guard, all vigilant. Anyone working Gotham was required to be on duty where Batman sent them, whether they were family or not. The occasional Bird or Titan got sucked into the deal, Steph a few times, Superman and Wonder Woman both last year, and even a Lantern or two had had the misfortune of being in the city on this particular night in the past. But that was par for the course; whether you worked with the Bat personally or in any kind of close proximity to him, you were part of the team, like it or not. Arkham held too many crazies for everyone available to not be on guard on this particular night.
Thusly, the handing out of sector assignments was like waiting for the short straw to be drawn. Worse than being on this shift in the first place, it had the tendency to send people into areas that were either normally left to their own devices, and were therefore even more dangerous, or were quiet to the point of boring a person to death.
Tonight, Tim had drawn the shortest of the short straws, Bristol Heights. It could have been worse, he supposed. He could have drawn Arkham, but that was Bruce's default assignment, and he tended to pick Dick to aid him in that sector. No, this was guaranteed to be a quiet night. A few parties to check up on after all the kids rushed home with their annual haul, make sure no one was climbing out of their coffins in the cemetery, nothing major. Certainly nothing more exciting than keeping the kids with cartons of eggs in check and as far away from Wayne Manor as possible.
And so it went, that Tim's night passed without a single incident to bother reporting. A few passes through the broader neighborhood in the Redbird, a sweep of the major shopping center on foot. Nothing happening beyond a party at an estate not far from the Manor. In fact, it seemed as if the two police cruisers that were on duty had it all so well in hand that Tim might as well have called it a night.
Packing it in shortly after midnight, Tim made his final sweep, checking his surveillance cameras from the mini-laptop in the car. Again, nothing to--
Aw, dammit, he cursed silently, scowling at the monitor glowing in the semi-darkness. Looked like a drunk was stumbling through Bristol Heights Cemetery, falling against the trees and the headstones, crawling until he could get back up and continue on his way. Oh well, one drunk was at least something to put in his report, and it was on his way home, so he could just deal with him and be done.
Making short work of the drive over, Tim left his car at the entrance, parked haphazardly in front of the tall wrought-iron gates that had been pushed wide open. Of course, he noted sourly as he examined what looked like bloody fingerprints on the dark metal. Mag-Lite in hand, he set out through the cemetery.
The trail left by the drunk was an absolute mess of dead leaves strewn about and muddy - or bloody - boot prints, a neon sign declaring the presence of an intruder among the dead. Following it, it wasn't long before Tim heard the anguished cries of the man up ahead, whimpering and sobbing and trying to scream with a voice that sounded like a hacksaw on crushed gravel and glass. Damn. He was hoping to avoid it, but he'd have to call in an ambulance, after all.
Approaching the drunk - or perhaps just injured - man from behind, Tim leveled his Mag-Lite on the dark form huddled in front of a headstone, the man's fingers digging into the wet ground beneath him. "Hey, are you all right? Do you need... help?" God, but that was a lot of blood for a random guy stumbling through a cemetery! Dark stains covered the man's jeans and boots, most of the shirt Tim could see peeking out from beneath a heavy leather jacket, and--
And Tim's light fell on the headstone behind him.
"Here lies Jason Peter Todd..."
And the drunk's hair was dark and slightly curly, damp with sweat and limp against pale skin, his chest was heaving as sobs ripped from his throat, his lips curled back over teeth in a grimace Tim knew all too well...
Tim's heart thundered with sudden adrenaline at the sight.
"Jason?" he whispered.
* * * * *
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake (more characters in future parts)
Rating: R - for bloody violence
Word Count: 930
Prompt: For my dcu_freeforall challenge claim - Writer's Choice: Blood; For the 2008 DCU Free For All Autumn Challenge - Bludgeon; For the 2008 DCU Fic/Art Halloween Challenge - Apples (apple cider), Potions, Cemeteries, Gotham; For 50_darkfics - Blood
Summary: Tim crosses paths with the last person he'd expected to see on Halloween night.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing, but I play with it all like it were mine. MOWAHAHAHAHA!!!! *evil grin*
Author's Notes: At last, the plot bunny bites!! This was written for the challenges mentioned above, and for merfilly's All Souls Day Challenge. I am nothing, if not a multi-tasker. ^_~
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Blood is the Beginning - Part 1
Blood. The sharp taste of his own blood filled his mouth quickly, welling beneath his tongue, sliding over his gums. Blood. And... the pain. Two teeth, maybe more, knocked loose or shattered. His face was on fire with pain.
Dirt and blood beneath his fingernails, blood and saliva splattering on the ground where it dribbled from his parted lips, and pain everywhere.
The next hit came crashing down on his back, CRACK after the whoosh of the metal bar through the air. Air driven out of his lungs as he crumpled to the ground. Air. He needed air, couldn't breathe.
CRACK.
Cracked ribs. Pain. Fear. Couldn't breathe.
Laughter. Loud. Ears hurt with it. Mocking, insane.
CRACK.
No!!! Please, no! he begged silently, no air to scream with, his eyes stinging with tears.
CRACK.
Shattered femur. Pain. More blood. He couldn't stand, couldn't get up. Pain was his world. Eternal misery. Blood.
CRACK.
Blackness.
* * * * *
Blood. Screaming. Air. God, air!! He could breathe again. Air! But...
Darkness. Silk. Pain. Where am I?
Air growing thinner. Small space. Panic singing at him with utter terror.
Dig.
Screaming.
Blood.
* * * * *
On Halloween night the Bats tended to split up the city into sectors, all warm bodies on guard, all vigilant. Anyone working Gotham was required to be on duty where Batman sent them, whether they were family or not. The occasional Bird or Titan got sucked into the deal, Steph a few times, Superman and Wonder Woman both last year, and even a Lantern or two had had the misfortune of being in the city on this particular night in the past. But that was par for the course; whether you worked with the Bat personally or in any kind of close proximity to him, you were part of the team, like it or not. Arkham held too many crazies for everyone available to not be on guard on this particular night.
Thusly, the handing out of sector assignments was like waiting for the short straw to be drawn. Worse than being on this shift in the first place, it had the tendency to send people into areas that were either normally left to their own devices, and were therefore even more dangerous, or were quiet to the point of boring a person to death.
Tonight, Tim had drawn the shortest of the short straws, Bristol Heights. It could have been worse, he supposed. He could have drawn Arkham, but that was Bruce's default assignment, and he tended to pick Dick to aid him in that sector. No, this was guaranteed to be a quiet night. A few parties to check up on after all the kids rushed home with their annual haul, make sure no one was climbing out of their coffins in the cemetery, nothing major. Certainly nothing more exciting than keeping the kids with cartons of eggs in check and as far away from Wayne Manor as possible.
And so it went, that Tim's night passed without a single incident to bother reporting. A few passes through the broader neighborhood in the Redbird, a sweep of the major shopping center on foot. Nothing happening beyond a party at an estate not far from the Manor. In fact, it seemed as if the two police cruisers that were on duty had it all so well in hand that Tim might as well have called it a night.
Packing it in shortly after midnight, Tim made his final sweep, checking his surveillance cameras from the mini-laptop in the car. Again, nothing to--
Aw, dammit, he cursed silently, scowling at the monitor glowing in the semi-darkness. Looked like a drunk was stumbling through Bristol Heights Cemetery, falling against the trees and the headstones, crawling until he could get back up and continue on his way. Oh well, one drunk was at least something to put in his report, and it was on his way home, so he could just deal with him and be done.
Making short work of the drive over, Tim left his car at the entrance, parked haphazardly in front of the tall wrought-iron gates that had been pushed wide open. Of course, he noted sourly as he examined what looked like bloody fingerprints on the dark metal. Mag-Lite in hand, he set out through the cemetery.
The trail left by the drunk was an absolute mess of dead leaves strewn about and muddy - or bloody - boot prints, a neon sign declaring the presence of an intruder among the dead. Following it, it wasn't long before Tim heard the anguished cries of the man up ahead, whimpering and sobbing and trying to scream with a voice that sounded like a hacksaw on crushed gravel and glass. Damn. He was hoping to avoid it, but he'd have to call in an ambulance, after all.
Approaching the drunk - or perhaps just injured - man from behind, Tim leveled his Mag-Lite on the dark form huddled in front of a headstone, the man's fingers digging into the wet ground beneath him. "Hey, are you all right? Do you need... help?" God, but that was a lot of blood for a random guy stumbling through a cemetery! Dark stains covered the man's jeans and boots, most of the shirt Tim could see peeking out from beneath a heavy leather jacket, and--
And Tim's light fell on the headstone behind him.
"Here lies Jason Peter Todd..."
And the drunk's hair was dark and slightly curly, damp with sweat and limp against pale skin, his chest was heaving as sobs ripped from his throat, his lips curled back over teeth in a grimace Tim knew all too well...
Tim's heart thundered with sudden adrenaline at the sight.
"Jason?" he whispered.
* * * * *