No Time To Die

Tim was so so stupid.

Tonight was supposed to be a small drug operation shut down, but apparently his intel was wrong. This was a freaking ambush. They knew he was coming. How did he not catch on sooner? Tim must be getting slow. His movements were lethargic as he swung his bō towards Knifey's face. Buff Dude caught his wrist, and Tim tried to pull away when-

Crack.

Fuck. Tim forgot about Mr. Crowbar.

"Red Robin, report?" His comms crackled.

"All good B!" Tim coughed out, he definitely had broken ribs.

"Hrn."

"Don't give me that," Tim winced as Knifey sliced his shoulder, "I'm serious!"

Tim could tell the thugs were put off by this conversation, so he took the opportunity to escape Buff Dude's grip, and knock out Knifey. One down, two to go.

"Should I send backup?"

Tim surveyed the scene. One thug unconscious, two up but tired, a few broken ribs, -3 hours of sleep. He totally had this!

"Nah," Tim launched himself off Buff Dude's chest, backflipped, and landed on Mr. Crowbar's shoulders.

"Hn." Bruce grunted.

Tim grabbed Buff Dude's head. He slammed it against Mr. Crowbar's forehead, successfully knocking them both out. He somersaulted away, sucking in a sharp breath from a sudden burst of pain.

"See! Just finished." He dusted his hands off and stood up carefully.

Bruce sighed, "Injuries?"

Tim ziptied the thugs, called the GCPD, and hopped on his Batcycle. Everything hurt. But it was fine! He could just deal with it later. He started up the engine. He could handle this. Tim started driving to the Batcave. He'd write up his report, then patch himself up. Easy peasie!

"Red Robin?"

Oops.

"Uh." Tim scrunched his nose. He didn't want to worry Bruce.

"Red Robin, I said injury report."

"Erm actually, you only said 'injuries'."

Another sigh. Tim laughed, and immediately regretted it. He winced and groaned in pain.

"Red Robin, report to the Batcave. Immediately."

Tim giggled, "you say r'port a lot Bruce."

"Names."

He giggled again. Everything felt kinda funky. Like swimming in syrup. His vision went hazy, and he thought he heard Bruce in his ear. Thought he saw a reddish blob in front of him.

"You." Tim booped the blob.

"Me." It said back.

Tim gasped. The blob could talk!

"Wow, Replacement. Fuckin' rude is what you are."

Tim giggled, "boop!"

The blob sighed. Just like dad!

"Wha- did you just compare me to B?" The blob looked offended. "Rude."

Wait. Offended? Blobs don't have faces. Tim giggled.

"Stop callin' me a fuckin' blob, fuckin' hell Replacement. You high or somethin'?"

First of all, Tim didn't do drugs. Drugs bad. Second of all, he was really sleepy.

"Gonna nap," Tim flopped into the blob, "right here."

"What the actual fuck?"

"Cozy." Tim smiled and nuzzled closer.

He felt strong arms wrap around him. The blob grumbled grumbly. Tim giggled. He felt himself get hauled up. Since when was he on the floor? Huh, weird. He was set down and he felt someone sit down behind him. He saw red out of the corner of his eye. He giggled again. Why was he so giggly?

"Where we goin' blob?"

And then he passed out.