Archive of Our Own ^beta

      Bad man go to bad city. Dark city, no sun. Dex-Starr follow. Dex-Starr hunt Bad Man. Bad Man sneaky, hides from Dex-Starr. Dex-Starr will find. For Owner. He killed Owner. So Dex-Starr will kill Bad Man. Rage ring purrs with him. They will take blood. Rage ring wants blood. Dex-Starr wants blood. Blood and pain. Dex-Starr hurts. Because Owner loved him. And now, love is gone. Because Bad Man killed her. Dark city loud. Dark city full of bad people. People like Bad Man. Who take good kitties' owners away. Who take home away. Dex-Starr make Bad People pay. And Dex-Starr watches kitties go home. To love. To owners. Dex-Starr has no home, has no love, has no owner. Only Rage Ring and Bad Man. Dex-Starr find Bad Man. Because Dex-Star is good kitty.

      Tim probably shouldn't have a pattern. Scratch that, he definitely shouldn't have a pattern. A pattern makes him predictable, easier to catch off guard, easier to ambush. But, consider this: boba tea. A shop opened up three streets and a block down from W.E. and they always have oat milk. Always. Tim misses just being able to order milkshakes and ice cream at random without having to worry about vegan this or dairy-free that. So this little boba tea shop that always has oat milk and doesn't try to give him regular milk because some people are assholes and hate 'hipster trends' even though it's not Tim adhering to hipster trends, it's Tim having a medical condition? It is a blessing. A capital 'b' Blessing, to be precise, one that carries honey flavoured popping boba pearls and serves blackberry oat milk tea to go with the pearls. So Tim can't help but go regularly to Boba O'Clock and get blackberry oat milk tea with honey flavoured popping pearls. It's almost better than the blackberry tea he's been making since childhood that he would eventually share with Alfred. So, even when Tim is having his work from home week, he still drives over to Boba O'Clock. So his pattern is probably the exact reason he's being staked out from across the street while he waits for his drink to be made. He pulls out his phone, looking for all the world like an oblivious teenager when he's texting Kon a quick 'hey think I'm gonna be kidnapped I'll scream if they try to murder me'. He takes his time finishing his drink, knowing Kon is with Jon again today and probably will be too busy to check his phone right at the moment. Clark surprised Kon (and Tim, to an extent) when he heard about Kon's new job as Tim's on-call bodyguard and offered to let Kon move into the Lane-Kent farmhouse till he wanted to get his own apartment. It was nice, plus, Jon was beyond ecstatic. As much as Damian hated Tim, that's how much Jon hero worshipped Kon. It was sweet, and honestly, kinda stupid cute, too. But it also let Clark and Lois have a little more time to spend out of the house, not because they wanted to be away from their son, but having careers like theirs' were demanding, exhausting, and stressful with a 9 year old at home. So Kon focused his attention on taking care of Jon to repay Clark and Lois for letting him move in. But Kon kept his ear out for Tim, always. So if Tim really needed the help fast, then all he'd have to do was scream and Kon would find a way to get to Tim without giving up his secret identity. They were working on that. Tim wasn't going to let Kon let up on any training. Tim tucked his phone away and grabbed his drink. If the people outside were gonna kidnap him, they could wait. The real crime would be if Tim were to waste his boba tea. He chewed his honey flavoured popping pearls slowly. He'd have to get the kidnapping over with eventually, but not before Tim finished his drink. "Have a good day, Sarah," Tim said 20 minutes later as he tossed his cup in the recycling bin.

"You too, kid," Sarah replied, waving with a half-grin.

Tim could book it to his car. He'd be safe if he got there and managed to make it back to Monarch Towers. But wouldn't that just mean he'd have to watch his back till the kidnappers either got him or got bored of him? It sounded...tedious. And Tim had just dealt with that whole Ralphie thing literally only last Friday which was the whole reason Tim was even taking the whole work-from-home week in the first place. So it was probably better to just get the whole thing out of the way. "Scream and I shoot your fucken brains out," someone, a man, growled behind him as a gun pressed into the small of Tim's back.

Tim fought the urge to sigh or roll his eyes and stilled his body. A quiet, compliant kidnappee meant a less violent kidnapping, less attention, less potential casualties, and, overall, less of a fallout afterwards. Tim knew when and how to play nice, even when he really didn't want to. Instead, he forced a tremble go up his spine and nodded shakily. "Walk," the man growled, his breath smelled like tobacco.

Tim marched forward, allowing just enough shakiness to his limbs for it to not look like he was assessing the whole situation, which was what Tim was actually doing. "Get in the back," the man ordered lowly, digging the muzzle into the back of Tim's NASA t-shirt.

The doors of a van slid open, another man and a woman behind the doors. Both wore ski masks, which made Tim feel a little bit better about his prospects since he couldn't see their faces. Tim stepped into the van silently. They frisked him down, taking his phone and pocketing it and one man, the one with a green splotch on his ski mask, got a greedy gleam in his eye when he spied Tim's ring. Tim curled his fingers into a fist, hoping he wouldn't get it pried off. Luckily, the man left it alone as the woman helped him tie Tim up with his hands behind his back and arms pinned to his side. All three of his kidnappers hopped out of the back and shut the van doors, enclosing Tim in the dark. "At least I got my boba," Tim sighed and leaned his back against the partition of the van. 

       Tim was blindfolded before they took him out of the back of the van, though Tim isn't particularly sure why they didn't blindfold him as soon as he got in the van. They must still be new to this or something. They were definitely still in Gotham, proven by the distinct Gotham stench in the air that differed from Bludhaven's own odor. He had tried to memorize each twist and turn the van had taken. He's pretty sure they had taken Tim to an old boathouse by Gotham Bay. It smells like mildew, rotten water, and wet concrete. Tim gets forced down in a chair with his torso tied to the back of it. It's metal, cold and maybe a little rusty. The blind fold is yanked off and Tim blinks the spots out of his eyes as they readjust. Concrete and wood make up the ceiling, walls, and floor. "You've been good and quiet so far," the woman mused, "So stay that way until we need you and we won't have a problem."

She patted his cheek condescendingly but Tim stayed quiet no matter how badly he wanted to tell her they had a problem the second they decided to ruin his goddamn day. "How much you think Wayne would pay to get you back," the green splotched ski mask man leered, "Think it'd be enough to keep you from getting paid off for by someone else instead?"

Tim would be out of here before that happened, and he'd get his phone too. He didn't particularly want to bother his agents since he's pretty sure they're all busy and Bruce was at the dog shelter. Something about getting a puppy for the fanily and having Damian learn to take care of something that wasn't his and couldn't contribute anything but was still valuable. Tim just thinks Bruce is taking advantage of the fact that there's already an animal at Wayne Manor and has thus opened up possibilities of owning a pet. "Probably," the other man, the one with the pompom on his ski mask, replied, "What, is he supposed to make the psycho brat his heir? Or the flakey pretty boy? Maybe dead kid? The dumb chick who can't talk? Nah, he'll be wanting this one back."

It certainly sounded like someone has never had their jaw dislocated or broken. Tim would obligingly do both, a two for one deal. "God, ransoming is so much more lucrative than just breaking and entering," Green Splotch grumbles, "Barely got a hundred for the ring I pulled off this one woman a few weeks ago. Had to kill the bitch to get the damn thing and her pet fucken cat scratched me up good. Hope that mangy ass thing fucking died."

Green Splotch needs a good dislocated-broken jaw deal as well. Tim wouldn't mind doing it. Briefly, Tim considers that he might be spending too much time around Jason with all these violent thoughts then remembers that he unlocked the Violent Thoughts all on his own long before Jason started yelling insults and threats at Twilight playing on his computer screen with popcorn. Which was literally two days ago, he might add. Which was incredibly weird. The thing he's judging Jason about most is that he's read all the Twilight books, even if he did do it to criticize them. He still spent money and time on them. So Tim can judge him, and no, Jason, Tim will never read them. "Hey," the woman hisses, snapping her fingers in front of his face a couple times, "Pay attention. You're gonna call your rich dad and get him to pay to take you back. 3 mil, no less. 'Kay?"

"I- I can pay you," Tim offers, playing up a nervous stammer, "I can- I can pay you right now."

"What, you want us to give you your phone? So you can call the cops," Green Splotch sneers, "Fat chance."

PomPom uses Tim's thumb print to get into Tim's civilian part of his phone. His Red Robin network needs a voice command, fingerprint, two passwords and the anseer to a particular cypher Tim made up when he was 11. His Red Atheris network requires a retinal scan, four passwords, three interconnected cyphers, a finger print, a voice command, and a color code match to eliminate all the green squares in the password cube. Tim rarely calls Bruce so Bruce might accidentally jump right into Batman Business without knowing that Tim was compromised. PomPom jabbed Bruce's contact and Tim prayed silently 'don'tpickupdon'tpickupdon'tpickup'. The dial tone blared repetitively and PomPom dismissed the call. The woman snatched the phone and called again. With bated breath, Tim waited for the dial tone to ring out again and barely let himself sigh in relief when it did. Green Splotch tore the phone from the woman's hands and clicked the call icon again. No dice. "I- he's busy today," Tim whispered, leaning his head down to hide his smirk because yes, he could just deal with thise on his own and Tim has been bored of doing almost nothing, "Please, let me just pay you so I can go."

He really just wanted to get the Hell out of there. He was starting to get worried about his blood clotting or something with his legs unable to properly stretch out. With his luck, he wouldn't put it past his crappy body to pull another fast one on him. The Widower just had to delete a major part of Tim's blood filtering system, huh? Probably to make up for the fact that he was totally shit at assassination. The dude failed to assassinate not 1, not 2, but all 4 of his targets. How do you even fail that hard? Moron. "Well, the thing is," the woman sighs, "We weren't actually planning on doing that. If we can't get the cash from Wayne, your organs will do."

Tim should definitely mention that he's down his tonsils (age 4), his appendix (age 8), and his spleen. They are getting a lot less organs than they anticipated. "Kon," he mutters as he slides his wrists out of the ropes deftly, "They want to harvest my organs."

Kon probably heard that. "Nothing personal, kid," Green Splotch chortles, "You won't feel a thing...maybe."

There's a knife going at Tim's throat and Tim starts to reel his legs up so he can kick at the man's guts when a harsh, loud 'myyyrrrooowww' screeches through the air. Nobody had prepared for the Red Lantern Cat breaking the roof.

       Found Bad Man. Bad Man greedy. And smells like Owner's blood still. Dex-Starr knows. Dark city is smelly. Hard to hunt. Hard to track. But Dex-Starr good kitty. Dex-Starr find. And Dex-Starr kill. Red, hot steaming red, splatters out Dex-Starr' mouth. Ground sizzles. Bad Man yells, jumping out of the way. Pushes lady and runs. Coward. Dex-Starr hunt other Bad Man and Bad Lady. They just like Bad Man. Dex-Starr roars. Small Boy in chair wriggles around and pounces, like Dex-Starr does. Other Bad Man goes down. He hit ground hard. Satisfying. Smack. Bad Lady also go down. Hits ground hard too. Smack. Dex-Starr likes Small Boy and his mean ways. Small Boy steals from Bad Lady's pocket. Mean. Sneaky. Cat-like. Like Dex-Starr. Hand grabs Dex-Starr's scruff. Dex-Starr sniffs and yowls. Kryptonian. Danger. "Now, what're you doin' here, cat?"

       Kon loved his new job as a bodyguard. He probably wouldn't love it so much if murder attempts worked on him, but they don't. They barely register, if he's being honest. Ma and Pa encouraged him to move to Metropolis so he could fly between Metropolis and Gotham easier and still get enough sunlight on his days off to fuel him. And to shock of all shocks, Clark called him up, presumably after the Old Bat complained to him, and Clark said, "Me 'n Lois gotta spare room in the farm house if you wanna bunk here till you decide to get your own apartment. Apartment payments at 17- or 18, Rao, how does your age work?- is just a whole lotta stress. And you can help with Jon if you want?"

And, golly damn, Kon wasn't gonna just pass a chance up like that. He could learn more about being Kryptonian, just by being in proximity to Clark and Jon. He could help protect Jon to make sure he never ended up in the shithole like Kon was early in his life. It was one of the best feeling in the world to set down in the field with his bags and Krypto beside him and hear Jon's excited, "He's here! He's here! He's here!"

Fuck, that kid was so damn adorable. Kon had been worried that he'd hate Jon the second he met him. Kon would fucking kill for Jon, he swears. But major props to Lois for managing to get him to calm down because have you ever tried to keep up with a 9 year old? Nevermind a 9 year old part Kryptonian? The only thing he stops for is pizza rolls and apple juice. Kon pulls the bag out of the freezer and shakes it like a bag of dog treats. Jon skitters to a stop and cheers, "Pizza rolls! Kon, you're the best!"

Bless pizza rolls. "Oh, Kon, your phone went off. Someone texted you," Jon told him as Kon hands him a juice box and a straw.

"Don't squeeze the box too hard or you'll spill your juice, Scout," Kon absentmindedly reminded him as he pulled out his phone.

He took a sip of mango Zesti and nearly spat it out when he checked Tim's text. At the same time he heard 'Kon, they want to harvest my organs.' Which- swell. Just swell. "Oh shi-oot," Kon coughed, "Uh, somethin' popped up at work, Scout, I gotta get my work clothes on. Lemme text your mom and dad."

Lucky him, Clark arrived in two minutes to take over watching the oven and Kon could go get Tim. As much as Tim pulled his ass out of the fire on missions, Kon's had to play extraction just as many times because, news flash: Kon's best friend was a right fuckin mess. He loved Tim, he did, honest, but that boy was an entire goblin. "Bats," he grumbled, to Clark's visible amusement.

Finding Tim's 'heartbeat'- which was a, what is it called, a misnomer. It was actually a combination of heart beat, blood flow, lungs, and all those other human biometrics that meshed together to make a little biometric song- was easier than putting pizza rolls in the oven. If he could find it across the world in Paris, he could find it in a shitty little boathouse by the nasty ass Gotham Bay. He was expecting to see Tim already up and about and kickin' ass as usual. What he wasn't expecting was big ass Red Lantern cat. That thing was more than double the size of a regular, full grown house cat, although Kon would still put the angry lil' son of a gun at about a year old, younger than Horseshoe, but he could still be wrong. Kon was no stranger to wrangling bastard animals (see: Lady Henrietta the hen, Bucket the mouser cat, Horseshoe the other mouser cat, Hilda the heifer) so when that thing started hissin' and spittin' some weird type of red acid shit, Kon scruffed 'em. Kon gave the cat an unimpressed look and asked, "Now, what're you doin' here, cat?"

The cat's tail frizzed out majorly and its ears went flat as its face snarled up. "He was a very good kitty," Tim said, already drawing nearer to the cat with the most focused look possible, "Right, kitty? You're a very good kitty."

Oh boy. Ohhh boy. Tim is the same person who brought Teekl home, right? He's the same person who lets the motherfuckin Red Hood in his safe base and still goes to Sunday dinner when his younger brother poses the 11% chance (Kon thinks its more but whatever, he's not doing math for shit) that he'll try and lace Tim's food with something, and kept going back to the Ol' Bat for everytime Kon personally belives he fucked Tim up and fucked him over. So, naturally, Tim wouldn't care if Kon was scruffing a Red Lantern cat. His brain would only register 'kitty' and he'd go buckshit wild. "Tim," he spoke up steadily, "Tim, this is a Red Lantern. He spits acid blood shit."

But the cat's ears were slowly pricking up as Tim slowly came closer, still cooing, "This is a good kitty."

The cat dangled from Kon's hand when Tim poked Kon on the arm and asked quietly, "Can I hold the kitty?"

And- well- look! Look! Listen to Kon. Listen. He can say no to Tim. He's done it a billion times before, ask anyone! But...c'mon. He's looking at Kon with big, excited eyes and Kon just knows if he gives the cat to Tim, Tim is gonna go crazy happy and smile all wide and, well, Kon is apparently a weak, weak man. And he also wants to one-up the Bats through the number of times Kon makes Tim happy vs how many times they make him happy and Kon is arrogant enough to think he's in the lead. But a little extra point never hurt, right? And Tim's wanted a cat forever. He loves cats, and it's not like he'd be irresponsible with a cat. Honestly, Tim might be the best person to handle a Red Lantern cat, the nutjob. So, well, uh, Kon gives Tim the cat. "Hello, kitty," Tim greets softly, "I'm Tim. That's Kon."

The cat looks comically large cuddled up against Tim's narrow torso, about three feet long and as wide as a little bit more than half of Tim's torso. Suffice to say, this is a gigantic cat. Tim scratches right behind the cat's ears and the cat's tail goes from all puffed up and angry to flat and relaxed. A deep, rumbling purr echoes out and Tim whips his head around to look at Kon with a bright grin that Kon can't quite explain why it makes him feel so goddamn proud but it does. Oh yeah, Kon made a good decision. "C'mon, let's get outta here," Kon beckoned, followed by one very happy best friend and one very happy, very dangerous cat.

         Kon doesn't know how, but Tim got his phone back somewhere along the line. "Hey, Alfred, if you're not busy could you come pick us up? Thank you," Tim finishes his phone call to Alfred and pockets his phone again so he can keep scritching the cat's chin.

The red ring on the cat's tail pulses and Tim jolts. Kon slips his hand to Tim's back, just in case. "Oh," Tim mutters, "Your name is Dex-Starr? That's a nice name. Very cute, Mister Dex-Starr."

Dex-Starr purrs again like he's got some kinda major horsepower in his big ol' kitty cat body. He could, for all Kon knows. "I love you," Tim whispers in amazement, and Dex-Starr purrs even louder, so loud that Kon can feel it in his teeth.

"Wonder, you just met Dex-Starr," Kon points out weakly, knowing it's all futile in the face of Tim's unrepentant love of cats.

"Do you want a laser pointer or a feather wand," Tim asks Dex-Starr, "I can get you both, actually. Would you like a laser pointer and a feather wand?"

The cat looks unbearably smug all cuddled up with Tim, which is kinda ridiculous since that's just a literal kitty cat. "Dear Tim, Mister Conner," Mr. Pennyworth's voice intones beside them as the town car rolls up, "It seems we must go to the Manor."

"No, we don't need to," Tim denies distractedly, "Would you mind dropping me off at Boba O'Clock? I left my car there."

"Master Jason appears to be nearby," Mr. Pennyworth replies, "He will retrieve your car for you. In the mean time, I believe we have a feline to deal with."

Mr. Pennyworth shoots Kon a look and Kon shrugs. Sorry Mr. Pennyworth.

       Tim didn't get it exactly, but he loved this kitty. He was absolutely ginormous, bigger than any kitty should be, and Tim suspects that it's some odd effect from the Red Lantern ring. And Dex-Starr felt like a furnace, just a big, heavy cushion of warmth and whatever soft, gray-blue fur the Red Lantern suit exposed. 'Good human', Dex-Starr purred into Tim's head as the ring on Dex-Starr's tail pulsed faintly, 'Squishy human. Like Her.'

Tim knew that, more than angry, Dex-Starr was sad. He was lonely and lost and he was just a kitty. Dex-Starr was just a kitty and dammit, Tim loved him. "Good kitty," Tim mumbles, poking a velvety ear and watching it flick back and forth, "Who was 'her'?"

Sharp claws knead Tim's shoulder, to which Tim is dimply aware that he should not let happen because he's read statistics and reports, he knows animal claws are filthy. The ring pulses again when Dex-Starr meows, 'Owner.'

Tim guesses, since Dex-Starr stopped purring, either his owner was bad or something really bad happened to her. It also may have been the catalyst for Dex-Starr becoming a Red Lantern. Catalyst. Tim stroked his fingers across the faint black-grey stripes striping Dex-Starr's head, trying to bring back the purr. A spot right behind his left ear brought out a thunderous purr. "I say," Alfred commented, "That is a most magnanimous purr."

'I big cat,' Dex-Starr boasted with a pulsing light from his ring, 'I predator.'

Tim eyed the shining claws poking out from pale paw fur. He didn't doubt it in the slightest. "Want me to carry him," Kon offered as the town car pulled up to the Manor.

'No!', Dex-Starr yowled, mrowing antagonistically with flattened ears and a pulsating red ring, 'Kryptonian!'

"Um, I got him," Tim decided, "Shhh, kitty kitty. I'll carry you in."

Dex-Starr settled, nestled in Tim's arms like a baby and flicking his tail suspiciously. 'Carry. Like king. I king kitty. I good kitty,' Dex-Starr purred, butting his head up against Tim's chin.

"You are a good kitty," Tim agreed, "And big. Very big kitty."

Dex-Starr butts his head against Tim's chin again, purring deeply like a vintage engine. "You're spoilin' him," Kon laughed as they hiked up the steps, "Can you even keep him?"

If Dex-Starr didn't want it, then Tim wouldn't keep him but Tim hoped that the Red Lantern would want to stay with Tim. "Hey, Timmy, whaaaat is that," Dick gasped as he swung around the corner and spotted Tim, Dex-Star, Kon, and Alfred in the foyer. 

"This is Dex-Starr," Tim introduced, "What do you think?"

'He scared. Good. I scary kitty. I angry kitty,' Dex-Starr meowed with a pulse from his ring.

"Well, why are you angry," Tim asked, "Can I help you?"

"Tt. Has Drake gone mad again and begun to talk to cats," Damian huffed as he strode inside, "I doubt any self-respecting feline would wish to converse with you."

"He can talk with his ring, I think," Tim corrected, ignoring that 'mad again' comment (he hadn't gone mad, he hadn't, that wasn't insanity, that was grief and stupidity and desparate hope but it can't have been him going mad-), "It's sort of comprehensible? He feels a lot, and it kind of translates into my head."

"Tt," Damian tisked, eyeing Dex-Starr's ring consideringly and Alfred the kitty, who was tucked up against himself, tail curled against a haunch and ears pressed sideways and flat in fear while crawling further and further away from Dex-Starr, "He is frightening my cat. Alfred, Alfred, do not show fear! Stand proud, I know you have pride!"

Kitty Alfred hissed quietly and something in Damian's eyes softened. The kid was an assassin who literally only liked, what, 3 people but Tim, as wary and mistrusting of the kid as he was, couldn't deny the fact that he was good to his pet and that he loved the animals he came in contact with. Maybe when the kid was a bit older, he would find a way to extend that empathy to other people. Maybe not in, like, the next year, that was asking too much, but eventually. Dick did make a good start with him, after all  "Come Alfred, if you are so unsettled," Damian scowled, although more at Tim than Dex-Starr or Kitty Alfred, "We shall work on your courage. And perhaps plan an ambush...Gardener does not need his ring, correct?"

The almost 11 year old scooped up his scrappy kitty and swanned off. The work at the clinic must be going well, Tim thinks. As long as he didn't call Kon an abomination or try to kill Tim or get him sick (seriously that was getting boring, the people in his life needed to get creative in their antagonisms. Release a goose in his apartment, give him some fun), then Tim wouldn't even pay attention to whatever he said. "Tim, set that down," Bruce growled in the shadows of the foyer, hunched down like a dramatic dweeb with a Dad Back, "And back away."

Tim blinked. The only thing he was holding was Dex-Starr? "Kon-El, are you fast enough to get the Red Lantern away," Bruce rumbled darkly.

"Uh, I kinda handed him the cat," Kon snorted, "And that kitty looks a lot less murder-y than when I first scruffed 'im. Talk about spittin' mad. Thought he'd start spewin' that acid blood stuff but apparently, he calms right down if ya tell 'im he's a good kitty."

'Bad Man? Bad Man? He hurt you? I kill. I kill," Dex-Starr snarled, pulling his ears back and hunching his back in Tim's arms.

"No, that's just Bruce, he's not a bad man. He's not even scary," Tim soothed, "Did a Bad Man hurt you, kitty?"

'I hunt Bad Man! I kill Bad Man! Bad Man take Owner. Kill her. Mean People kick me out of home. Cruel People put me in sack. I angry. I mad," Dex-Starr yowls, pushing out of Tim's arms and throwing himself at Bruce. 

Bruce ducked, evading the splatter of steaming, bloody acid from Dex-Starr's maw that pockmarked the wooden floor and ate away at it. Dex-Starr hissed, skittering his sharp claws against the wooden floors and taking to the air again. "Nuh-uh, we're all gonna take 5, kitty cat," Kon chastised, scruffing Dex-Starr from behind again. 

Dex-Starr made a deep 'mrrrrrr' noise, thrashing his tail in annoyance. Tim clicked his tongue against his teeth softly. "It's okay, Dex, we're all okay," Tim promised, "Come here, can I hold you, kitty? Bruce can stay all the way over there and we can stay right here. That sounds good, right?"

Dex-Starr's hefty frame drew up against Tim's chest, his tail all puffed up and slit eyed in anger. Still, he accepted being dropped back into Tim's arms. "Are you sure that's safe, Tim," Dick worried, "He just tried to kill Bruce."

"He thought Bruce was bad, probably because he's all hunched in the shadows like that. Dex-Starr got freaked out by him," Tim defended, "He's just hurting."

      That's the crux of the matter here isn't it? That Dex-Starr is hurting and lonely. He has no home, nobody to take care of him. Someone took that home from Dex-Starr, and it hurt so much that Dex-Starr probably became a Red Lantern over it. And Tim could help, if Dex-Starr wanted it. "That...hmnn...was extremely irresponsible, Kon-El," Bruce attempted to lecture, although Tim had to bury a laugh in the fur on Dex-Starr's head when it clearly fell flat on an irreverant teenager.

"Yeah, but Tim's happy," Kon smirked, "So I can't really feel all too bad about it all."

Tim ticked his head to the side as he heard a raspy giggle whisper out, a sound that went unacknowledged by the others in the room. "Big kitty," Cass said, sliding out from behind Bruce.

"Cass," Dick wheezed, "Oh, jeez! You came down here to see the...uh...cat?"

"Cass, this is Dex-Starr, Dex-Starr, that's Cass," Tim told the kitty that had been relaxing in his arms. 'Food,' Dex-Starr demanded, which was better than attacking.

"Sure," Tim agreed, "Come on, I think I have some of my fish here. Do you want some fish? I can get you actual kitty food later and I am so not getting stabbed over taking Kitty Alfred's food."

Dex-Starr accepted the fish readily, and Tim undeniably melted at the fricken cute 'mlemmlemmlem' sounds Dex-Starr made. His little tongue felt like soft sandpaper when he licked the eau de fish left on Tim's fingers. Cass scratched Dex-Starr's tail and grinned when she got a purr. Tim smiled back at her. "Good cat...for you," she told him before she disappeared again.

"Hey, Spook, I brought your car," Jason announced as he sauntered into the kitchen, "Can you get your guard dog to stop laser eyeing me? I don't feel like punching a teenager in the face right now, also your seats are tiny, what-"

Jason paused as he stared at Tim feeding Dex-Starr little bits of fresh fish and getting his fingers licked by the kitty on the ground. The he continued slowly, "Half Pint? Tell me right now if there is some kinda fumes in the air cuz there is no damn way I am seeing a gigantic ass Red Lantern cat right fucking now."

"Dex-Starr, that's Jason," Tim said, picking a bone carefully from the fish meat, "What's your stance on guns, Mister Dex-Starr?"

Dex-Starr just 'mlemmlemmlem'd as he chewed his fish. "Hey, dipshit, that's a Red Lantern, don't ask him about violence," Jason scoffed, "Why the fuck did you bring him here?"

"I wanted to go back to my car so I could drive back to the Nest on my own," Tim explained, "But Alfred brought us here so I'm gonna use the BatComputer to help Dex-Starr."

Dex-Starr looked up curiously. "That's right Dex," Tim stated, "I'm gonna help you find the Bad Man."

      Small Boy smell nice, feel soft, call Dex-Starr 'good kitty'. Carries Dex-Starr like Dex-Starr is king kitty. Feeds Dex-Starr good food. Small Boy talk soft. Small Boy gives scratches, pets gently. Small Boy feels. Dex-Starr can feel with Rage Ring. No angry, no angry at all. Just sad. Like Owner. But loving, like Owner. Small Boy make good Owner. Smell like no other kitties. Small Boy say he find Bad Man for Dex-Starr. Dex-Starr...little less angry.

       Dick wonders who he should blame for Tim's infatuation with all things weird, odd, lonely, and a bit abandoned. It could be a natural inclination, just something Tim had all on his own but to Dick, it just reeks of some kind of personal projection. The abandoned, derelict theatre he renovated to live in, the hyperloyal friendship group that consisted mainly of deemed rejects, the early decision to seek out the Bats in the first place to offer help because Bruce was breaking apart. Tim has the (very deadly, very dangerous, as are most of Tim's favourite sorts of things seem to be) Red Lantern cat balanced on his lap, purring into his palm as Tim types away one handed at the Bat Computer. The bats on the ceiling cower away from Tim, even though Tim could usually coax them from the ceiling to hold them and feed them a cricket or two, although Damian seems to also have taken on that task as well, unknowing of the fact that he was sharing an activity with his least favourite sibling. Dex-Starr made Dick's hair on end and he felt a simmering fury stir in his throat. It had to be the Red Ring that occasionally pulsed and Tim would answer out loud absentmindedly, playing with the cat's ears or softly stroking up his nose. "I love you," Tim proclaimed happily as the cat yawned and stuck his tongue out.

"He's a Red Lantern," Bruce reminded, "And...you have only had this cat...for how long?"

" 'Bout an hour," Kon-El replied, "It's fine, he was already tellin' Dex-Starr he was gettin' feather wands and laser pointers five minutes in."

The simmering rage boiled up. Wasn't he supposed to be Tim's bodyguard? So why the hell would he let Tim near a dangerous creature instead of getting him out of...wherever they picked up a Red Lantern cat! Isn't he supposed to care for Tim? Woah. Geez, that ring is really powerful. Red Lantern rings could corrupt pretty much anyone with enough rage. Tim didn't tend towards explosive rage like Dick, not normally, from what Dick knows. "He deserves it," Tim insisted, absolutely amazed when Dex-Starr curled his paw over his face, "He's a good kitty. Can you help me find the Bad Man, kitty?"

Dick wanted to laugh; Tim wasn't even using a baby talking voice. He was talking like he was speaking to another teenager his age. "Well, since it's hard to track smells, maybe if I can figure out your owner, I'll be able to work backwards from that," Tim suggested.

"Which dude specifically is the 'Bad Man'," Conner asked.

Tim hummed contemplatively befire he started rambling, "The man with a green splotch on his ski mask, I think. Dex came for a 'Bad Man', coincidentally the same one I was dealing with. The man with the splotch mentioned doing a b&e before he switched over to ransoming that ended with a murder. That b&e included a cat, and if it ended in murder and was only last month that it happened, the crime scene photos should still be fresh and if Dex was on scene, he probably was in at least one photo!"

"Hold the fuck up," Jason chimed in, "What ski mask?"

"One of the guys who kidnapped me had a green splotch on his ski mask," Tim informed helpfully as he typed away, somewhat muffled by the thunderous purring from the giant cat on his lap.

Dick spasmed where he stood. "What kidnapping-," he interjected.

"Fucken Jesúcristo, you can't be left alone for a minute-," Jason snapped.

"I called Kon to get me and he did it as Conner Kent instead of Superboy," Tim dismissed, "And Dex broke the boathouse they were keeping me in. Gave me the chance to whack two of them over the head with a chunk of wood, but funnily enough, Green Splotch got away."

Cass came stepping lightly down the stairs with a thin red ribbon in her hands. She held it out to Dex-Starr, who sniffed it lightly before Cass made a loose bow around his neck. Dex-Starr swatted one of the hanging ends. "Hey, B, what's the Emma Jacobs Case," Tim spoke up.

"Hrrmmn...42 year old woman murdered in her own home after a break in gone wrong. Crime scene was contaminated by cat fur. Mixed breed feline, adopted at two months old from a local shelter that took in an abandoned litter of kittens. Was with Jacobs for 13 months after the passing of her husband. She was strangled to death with unknown object, although post-mortem bruising patterns indicate it was a belt, approximately 7 centimeters wide. Her left hand was mutilated in order to remove what might have been a ring," Bruce grunted.

"Dex, is this her? Is that your owner," Tim asked quietly.

Dex-Starr meowed mournfully, pawing at the computer desk. It kind of looked like tears were slipping down his kittycat face but Dick is pretty sure cats don't cry, at least not because of grieving. "Okay, that's Ms. Emma Jacobs, Dex-Starr," Tim muttered, "Now who are you, Green Splotch Man?"

"Did you call the cops on those kidnappers," Jason asked, "Cuz you could just interrogate those fuckers if you didn't."

"Oh. Huh. I think I might've forgotten to do that. I can't remember, I was too focused on Dex-Starr," Tim admitted, the little dork.

Dex-Starr chirped and shoved his head against Tim's chin. "I'll fucken go, dumbass," Jason grumbled, "Gimme the address of that shitty boathouse."

"Can I work this one case," Tim pleaded.

"You need to take your meds, dumbshit," Jason grouched, "Boathouses in Gotham are disgusting. All kinds of bacteria, Spleenless Wonder."

"Shit," Tim hissed, bundling Dex-Starr up and bolted to the infirmary for his medication.

       Dick sat by Bruce, who was combimg through everything Tim found that might have been connected to the case while Tim took his meds and Jason went to the boathouse. Kon-El just floated after Tim smiling fondly. He really hadn't been Superboy (or Supernova, Dick corrected, although that wouldn't be official till his public costume got updated which Tim seemed to be looking into something called Inertrite for him and Kon-El), just official bodyguard Conner Kent, which was just a stereotypical bodyguard suit with a deep red leather jacket and black square framed glasses instead of sunglasses and a suit coat. "He...hmn, got attached rather quick," Bruce rumbled, "To that...cat."

"Didn't he bring Teekl home one time," Dick pointed out, "He has an affinity for the weird, B. I'd be more weirded out at this point if he got a plain old cat."

"It seems to be, hmng, more than an affinity," Bruce grunted, "Didn't he want a rescue cat?"

"Well, if he can help Dex-Starr, doesn't that make Dex-Starr a rescue," Dick mused, "Seems like a Tim thing to me."

When Dick thinks about it, it only makes sense that Tim would rescue a cat himself to keep.

"His name is apparently Mick Howard," Jason grumbled, "At least, that's the name he gave to those assholes. They had a hideout down on the corner of Whipple and Creak."

"Thank you, Jason," Tim replied as he swallowed dowm the last of his pills, "Kon and I can take Dex-Starr there tonight. Even if he isn't there, then his smell is probably enough for Dex to track him."

"You can't work a case," Jason grunted, "You're still off the roster, Half Pint."

"I'll be there for moral support," Tim huffed, "And like I said, Kon'll be there."

"You mean the dumb shit who gave you the massive murder cat in the first place," Jason scoffed.

"Ain't my fault I like makin' him happy, asshole," Kon bit out, "Dex-Starr hasn't gone around murderin' unlike someone, who, by the way, is actin' like a fuckin' bastard."

         Tim turned to Dex-Starr and scooped him up. "Stupid...relatives, stupid best friend," he muttered to the kitty, "Let's go, Dex. Kon can catch up when he's done."

Dex-Starr purred, 'You good. You help. Why help?'

Tim shrugged, snagging his car keys. "You're just a kitty," he said, "And you helped me. And you're sad. I don't think I have a really specific reason, honestly. I just want to."

"Leaving, Drake," Damian hissed, "Good. Keep the babbling to yourself, you will attract negative attention to the Wayne name. Or at least, more than you usually do."

"Yeah, bye," Tim replied dismissively, already out the door and not particularly wanting to deal with any further arguing or insulting.

'You say love me. Why,' Dex-Starr chirped.

"I decided I love you. You're big, cuddly, and you purr really loud. And you're cute, plus your fur is fluffy," Tim laughed, depositing Dex-Starr in the passenger's seat, "I don't need a lot of reasons to love, I think. It just happens."

Love had always been complex, messy, complicated for Tim. The older he got, the more he realized that he might have been the only person alive his mother had truely loved without repent, and that was why she would leave. So Tim could grow into someone who was more than the parenting impressed upon him, someone who was made of himself. It was funny, how he grew up and became more and more like his mother anyways so it hardly made the leaving worth it. And his father had loved him but there were things more important than Tim, situations and chances more dire than Tim, that Tim could take a backburner in life. But love was also simple. He loved photography and changing the world and  Dex-Starr. Why? He could collect a frozen moment with his camera. He could make sure at least one person had a warm place to sleep and something good to eat. He could buy silly little cat toys and listen to Dex going 'mlemmlemmlem' when he ate and that was enough for Tim. Tim went into Monarch Towers through the back door and headed right for the elevator. "Alright, Mister Kitty," Tim sighed, "Let's get cracking."

There weren't a lot of apartment complexes on Whipple and Creak, which was nice. Two were the kind you could only get into if you paid the rent and although it was pretty low rent for pretty basic, rundown apartments, Tim figured that the group wouldn't want to spend much money or have a traceable expense. He focused on the three abandoned ones. One was being turned into a local safe shelter for kids who got kicked out on to the streets for being LGBT+. So the other two he surveyed through traffic cams over the past week. The second one showed the kidnapper's van being hidden on the property, and wonder of all wonders, the one from today showed Mr. Green Splotch returning about two hours ago. "Bingo," Tim whispered, "We got your Bad Man, Dex-Starr."

The kitty's ears pricked up. 'Bad Man,' he snarled, kneading Tim's thigh slowly. 

"Oh, cool," Kon spoke up behind him, "We gonna go? Been waiting a couple hours."

Tim turned around, grinning. "You have fun at Debate Club," he teased.

"Dude," Kon huffed, "I can't believe you ditched me and left me to argue with your asshole...relative. Person. Zombie. Whatever."

Tim snorted, "You've made a friend."

Kon pounced on Tim, wrestling him from his chair and sending the both of them to the ground while Dex-Starr yowled and leapt out of the way. Tim screeched as Kon's fingers found his hipbones through his jeans and began tickling away. Dex-Starr smacked Kon with a paw across the face, and Kon politely did a dramatic fall backwards off of Tim. Tim jumped up and sat on Kon's chest. "I think Ol' Bats is gonna ban me from Gotham again. Almos' started a fist fight with that bastard."

"He doesn't own Gotham," Tim huffed, "He doesn't even own the majority stocks for his company. I do, and I live on my own. So he can't tell me what to do."

"Wonder," Kon said fondly exhasperated, "I don't think anybody has ever fully been able to tell ya what to do and you actually listened. It sounds impossible."

Dex-Starr gave Kon another firm smack to the face. "Yeah, yeah, thanks cat," Kon muttered, "We ready?"

Tim quickly changed out of his regular clothes and into his Red Robin suit, although he did put on a domino instead of the cowl. He couldn't wait till the prototype Inertrite was finished and Tim could test it. "That damn thing still don't fit right," Kon noted as he put on plain black clothes and slid a domino on, "Holy shit, these things are uncomfortable. You guys just run around wearin' this crap for hours at night?"

"Uh huh," Tim hummed.

Dex-Starr whacked the seat of his motorcycle suspiciously. "Sundown," Tim mumbled as he checked the time, "With it being almost November, the days are getting shorter, foggier. We can go...now, I think."

An 8:30 sundown indicated that he had spent a lot more time researching in the Bat Cave and Nest than he even thought. It must've gotten away from him. Again. To be fair, he hasn't been able to properly run rampant on research in weeks, he's been holding it all in. Dex-Starr proudly perched on Tim's lap with astounding balance and a little bit of hovering. "You charged up enough," Tim asked.

"No prob, Rob, I'm good," Kon reassured, "Your kitty ready to go, Wonder?"

        Tim made a few calls on the way, sent a couple massages. Hopefully, Hal Jordan would call him back about what Tim did find out from a couple reports he scrounged around for in between hideout searching. The streets zipped past with Kon right beside Tim, and Tim was pretty sure he saw glimpses of Robin's cape dashing across the skyline. 'Bad Man,' Dex-Starr hissed, 'Smell Bad Man. I hunt. I kill.'

"Hold on Dex," Tim whispered, "I think I have a better idea."

Tim murmured in Dex-Starr's ears as quietly as possible, hoping the droning roar of the motorcycle was enough white noise to distract Kon. The plan was pretty...morally reprehensible, and it'd be like Tim was pulling the trigger on a weilded gun he wasn't holding. He wasn't sure how Kon would take it. Dex-Starr, however, purred in satisfaction, 'Smart Boy. My Boy. My Person.'

Tim pressed a little kiss against Dex-Starr's little kitty ear and it flicked. "Let's go," he said.

Mick Howard was crouched over a dirty old whiteboard and complaining to himself, "Damned cats, useless shit for brains, messed up the whole thing."

"Bad day," Tim mocked, "It happens. I've always heard that there's always tomorrow."

Mick Howard jolted, then snarled, "Shoulda known this shithole had fucking capes. Of course it does. Full of freakshows, this goddamn Hell Hole."

Dex-Starr 'mrrrrrrr'ed lowly, crouching down like he was hunting. The red ring gleamed intensely. 'You hurt Her. Hurt Owner. Killed Owner. Blood. Blood. Blood. For Dex-Starr,' Dex-Starr hissed, 'You Bad Man. You pay.'

Mick Howard screamed as the full fury of a Red Lantern fell upon him, teeth into skin and claws into bone. "Damn," Kon muttered but turned away.

He turned away. Turned an unseeing eye and unhearing ear. "Kon," Tim started heistantly, "You...?"

"It's...his revenge. I think...I get it. With the whole Lex controllin' me, afterwards I wanted to pop his bald head off an' use it like a bowlin' ball. I didn't. But Dex ain't a person. He got feelin's, no doubt, but he ain't holdin' a moral code. 'Sides, cats kill rats all the time," Kon stated, ignoring the mounting cries.

Tim turned his back to Dex-Starr and held Kon's hand. It felt like relief. "They do," Tim agreed, "Don't they?"

When the screams ended and they could turn back around, Mick Howard was still alive. Three fingers were gone from each hand and the remaining two were mangled, with the palms slashed like ribbons in a paper shredder. 'No hands,' Dex purred smugly, 'No kill. No hurt anyone. I good kitty.'

      Hal Jordan will straight up admit he has a favourite Bat, and it's the third Robin. Red Robin, if that's what he's going by now. He respected Nightwing, but no damn human should move like that, or smile before lunch time. And he hadn't really known the second one, although he did feel terrible about a kid dying. Then, apparently, the kid came back hella murderous and very large and Hal was not messing with that. No. Hal may act stupid but he is not a moron. He had been 'dead' for a bit of time when the third Robin showed up but he came back in the middle of the kid's run in the yellow cape and he was pretty darn cool. A Bat? Liking Hal? Thinking Hal is cool? Because Hal goes to space and adventures pretty regularly? Getting Superman to cuss around kids sounded easier. Hal also went missing after the whole Superboy Prime thing and only barely heard about the rumor of 'Tim Wayne, ex-Robin, went crazy and claimed Batman was alive' at the JLA among those who knew about Batman's civilian i.d. (he still refused to believe he actually knew it because trust the Bat to lie about being a himbo multibillionaire who once did a kegstand at the MET) before Hal realized, well fuck me sideways, this kid was right. Black Lanterns, man. He also wondered, uh, if this kid is crazy why isn't he getting help? Then the kid turned out to be right. Besides all that, when the kid was annoyed (annoyed! at Supes! What the hell, that's incredible!), he did this little bunny scrunch under the mask with his nose and Hal thought it was fricking adorable. Sue him, he thought audacious kids were adorable. But this? "Hey, Mr. Jordan, do you still have Ms. Ferris' number? Dex kinda needs a new heart," the kid chirped as he held out the big ass monster Red Lantern cat with a grin.

"Uhhhh," Hal startled.

"I'll take full responsibility for this, GL," Superboy spoke up, "I gave him the cat."

"Why would you do that," Hal whispered.

"I asked to hold him," Red Robin replied, "And now Dex-Starr wants to stay with me. And Star Sapphires can heal Red Lanterns if they want to be helped and haven't been a Red Lantern too long."

Hal eyed the cat, the two teens, and sighed. "Yeah, hold on," Hal complied because he does not have the authority to care about a Bat doing something dangerous, weird, funky, or all of the above. 

"How's space, Mr. Jordan," Red Robin asked.

Oh good. Something he can talk about.

    He Dex-Starr. He had Owner. She love. She lonely. He help. He love. She laugh. She smile.

"Dexter, look at this! You want this scratcher?"

She gone. She die. Bad Man take her. Mean People chase him away. Cruel People put him in sack. Rage Ring come.

"Dex, do you want...the laser!"

Dex-Starr hunt. He track. He want blood. He want to kill. He want Bad Man. He go to dark city. Bad City. Cruel City. He search.

"Do you like your bed? Oh, you wanna sleep on mine? Okay, okay, fine. You have to cuddle with me though."

Dex-Starr find Bad Man. And Other Bad Man and Bad Lady. With Small Boy. He attack. He strong. Small Boy attack too. Small Boy fight. Small Boy strong. But Bad Man got away.

"Why are you wiggling your butt, kitty? No! Leave Bop alone! He's cleaning, he's just cleaning!"

Kryptonian get him. Danger. Small Boy come for him. Call Dex-Starr 'good kitty'. Holds Dex-Starr. Gentle. Loving. Lonely. Like Owner.

"Here, Dex, do you like your collar? It has my address on it, my phone number, and your name. Aw, that's a-"

Dex-Starr get help from Small Boy. Small Boy love Dex-Starr. Small Boy...His Boy. Dex-Starr has Boy. Has Owner. Has Home. Has Love. Dex Starr-

"-good kitty."

He Dexter. He love. He happy. He no angry. 

Dexter good kitty.