Tim Drake oneshots

Arsenal

Fic: "Arsenal"

Gotham's dark skyline loomed above the abandoned warehouse, where the city's most notorious villains had gathered. The Joker, Two-Face, Harley Quinn, and a handful of other rogues stood in a loose circle, their eyes fixed on one person—Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, sitting in a chair, hands bound but clearly not too bothered by the situation.

He’d been captured, sure. But this wasn’t the first time.

"You know, kid," the Joker said, his voice full of mockery, "I’m curious. How is it that you—the little birdie—seem to pull out more weapons than even Bats himself?"

Two-Face flipped his coin, the metal glinting in the dim light. "You’ve got access to some serious firepower, Red Robin," he growled. "Care to share the secret?"

Harley Quinn twirled her bat, smirking. "Yeah, Red! Spill! Where ya keepin' all these toys?"

Tim’s eyes flicked between the villains, his lips twitching into the smallest of smiles. They had no idea. They had no idea about the countless hours he’d spent patrolling Gotham, the deep knowledge he had of the city’s every nook and cranny—because it wasn’t just about knowing the streets. It was knowing where everything was hidden.

Weapons. Gear. Backups.

"Where do I get all my weapons?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back in the chair, still casual despite the fact that he was surrounded by Gotham’s deadliest. "You want to know my secret?"

They all stared, waiting. The Joker leaned in a little closer, that twisted grin never leaving his face.

Tim sighed, giving them a shrug. "I know Gotham better than you ever will. That’s the secret."

Two-Face scoffed. "What, you think you're smarter than the rest of us, kid?"

"No," Tim said, shaking his head. "It’s not about being smarter. It’s about being prepared."

"Prepared?" Harley echoed, frowning. "The hell does that mean?"

"It means," Tim said, locking eyes with her, "that while you all play your games, trying to outdo each other and outsmart Batman, I’ve been... collecting. Mapping. Learning. Do you know how many secret weapon caches are hidden across this city?"

The villains exchanged confused looks. Tim’s smirk grew.

"Every Bat-family member has their own stash—Nightwing, Batgirl, even the new Robin," he explained. "We scatter gear across the city in case something goes wrong. In case we get separated, or need to operate on the fly."

"Uh-huh..." Joker said, drawing the words out. "And you're saying you know where all of them are?"

Tim nodded slowly. "Not just those. I know where the old ones are too. Places B stashed weapons years ago. The ones he forgot about. I even know where a few of your stashes are hidden, Joker."

Joker’s smile faltered slightly at that. "Now, now, kid. Let's not get hasty."

"But you’re right to be curious," Tim continued, ignoring the nervous looks starting to spread among the villains. "You wonder how I pull out a new weapon every time we face off? It’s because I know exactly where everything is hidden."

Two-Face crossed his arms, his expression darkening. "So what, you're saying the whole city's one big armory for you?"

Tim’s smirk widened. "For me? Yeah, pretty much. You could throw me anywhere in Gotham, and I’d have something to fight with in minutes."

Harley narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "You expect us to believe that?"

"Believe what you want," Tim said coolly. "But ask yourselves this—how many times have you seen me show up with a different weapon? Something you’ve never seen before. Didn’t you ever wonder where it came from?"

The Joker twirled his fingers in a slow circle, processing the information. "Sooo, you’re telling us that if we let you loose... you could arm up in no time? That’s what I’m hearing."

Tim’s smile faded, his eyes hardening. "No. What you’re hearing is that if you think you’ve got me beat just because you’ve tied me up, you’re sorely mistaken."

In a flash, Tim flexed his wrists, a concealed blade springing from his gauntlet. With a quick, practiced flick, he sliced through the ropes binding his hands. The villains barely had time to react before he was on his feet, a smoke pellet dropping to the floor and filling the room with thick, obscuring fog.

Tim’s voice rang out through the smoke, cold and sharp. "You want to know how I get so many weapons? Because I’m always one step ahead. And Gotham is my playground."

The Joker’s cackle echoed through the mist, but there was a nervous edge to it now. Two-Face cursed, stumbling back, while Harley swung her bat blindly in the smoke.

"You little—!" Two-Face started, but before he could finish, Tim was gone, disappearing into the shadows like he’d never been there at all.

By the time the smoke cleared, the warehouse was empty, save for the confused and angry villains, still trying to figure out how they’d lost him so easily.

From a rooftop nearby, Tim watched them scramble. He pulled out a small comm device, speaking softly into it.

"Batman, they fell for it. I’m on the move."

"Good work," came Bruce’s low reply. "See you back at the cave."

Tim glanced back at the warehouse one more time before slipping into the night, the streets of Gotham his to command.

After all, he knew where all the weapons were hidden. And that was his edge.