Tim Drake oneshots

(6) New Persona

It was a typical night at Gotham's notorious Iceberg Lounge. The dim lighting reflected off crystal glasses, expensive suits mingled in the crowd, and Oswald Cobblepot - The Penguin - held court at the center of it all, his laugh harsh as he relayed some story of a botched heist. But tonight, there was something else on his mind. Something he couldn't quite let go.

"Can you believe this kid?" Oswald squawked, holding up a sleek black envelope with a raised R symbol. "A love letter! From Red Robin, of all people! To me!" His monocle glinted as he glanced around at the few villains who had gathered for a little unofficial business. "Can you imagine? The nerve!"

Harley Quinn, sitting nearby, grinned from ear to ear. "Oh, you got one too, huh?" She pulled out her own letter, already creased from where she'd been showing it off for hours. "Timmy's got a real flair for this sorta thing, don't he? Gotta admit, it's kinda sweet, in a weird way."

Selina Kyle, lounging on a barstool with a glass of champagne in hand, waved her own letter lazily. "He's got guts, I'll give him that. Most people wouldn't dare even try to mess with us like this. It's... oddly charming." She ran her fingers over the envelope with a catlike smirk. "Though, I'm curious what he's hoping to get out of this."

Poison Ivy, reclining elegantly beside Harley, tapped her letter on the bar, her green eyes gleaming with amusement. "I have to admit, he writes well. He even complimented my environmental efforts." She raised an eyebrow. "Though I'm still deciding whether to be flattered or irritated."

Across from her, Edward Nigma - The Riddler - was examining his letter with intense scrutiny. "You know, as much as I loathe the idea of being outsmarted, I can't help but respect the craft." He unfolded the letter again, reading through it for the fifth time. "He even included a riddle. A decent one, at that."

"He's toying with us!" Penguin's voice rose in pitch, and he slapped the letter down on the bar with a huff. "This is some kind of joke! Red Robin - flirting with Gotham's most dangerous villains. What's his game?"

Harley leaned over, laughing. "Aw, Ozzy, don't be such a stiff! It's funny! I think he's serious, though. Kid's got a thing for the bad guys. Gotta admit, I kinda love it."

"Besides," Ivy added, with a sly grin, "there's something about flipping the dynamic that's... appealing. We're usually the ones messing with them, but Tim's clearly not afraid to play along."

Selina raised her glass. "To the bird boy who's not afraid to take a risk. Honestly, it makes him more interesting, don't you think?"

Suddenly, a loud crash interrupted the conversation. The door to the back of the lounge swung open, and in strode Bane, his large frame casting a shadow over the room. He was holding his letter in one massive hand, looking at it as if it were something utterly foreign.

"This... boy," Bane rumbled, his voice low but carrying throughout the room. "What is this? A joke?"

Harley burst into a fit of giggles, clutching her sides. "Bane! You got one too?!"

Bane's expression remained impassive, though his grip on the letter tightened. "Red Robin sent me this... letter. Is he asking for a death wish?"

"Nah, big guy, it's love!" Harley replied with a wink, flipping her own letter into the air. "Or, y'know, his weird little version of it. Ain't it cute?"

Bane's eyes darkened, but he seemed more confused than angry. "I do not understand this... game. First, he fights me. Now he... admires me?"

Edward chuckled, folding his letter carefully. "It seems Tim's playing a more... complex game than usual. Psychological warfare, perhaps? Or maybe he's just gotten tired of the usual patrol-and-punch routine."

"You think it's some kind of tactic?" Penguin asked, crossing his arms. "Trying to mess with our heads?"

"Maybe," Selina mused, her smile widening. "Or maybe it's just him showing us he's not scared of us. He's confident enough to do this, knowing full well we could all kill him if we wanted."

Ivy tapped her chin thoughtfully. "He's bold, I'll give him that. But there's something... almost genuine in his words. Or maybe he's just that good at manipulating."

"Or," Harley said, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "maybe he's got a crush on all of us! Maybe that lil' bird brain's gone soft!"

"Tim Drake does not go soft," Selina replied, raising an eyebrow. "He's playing this game for a reason. Maybe he's just having fun with it, or maybe he knows exactly what he's doing. Either way, it's working. Look at us - we're talking about him, not about some heist or grand plan."

Penguin snorted. "Bah! I don't have time for this ridiculousness. Love letters. Hmph!" But despite his grumbling, he pocketed the letter, not willing to toss it just yet.

Bane, meanwhile, stared at his letter a moment longer before folding it carefully and tucking it away in his vest. "This boy... he is either very brave or very foolish. But he has my attention."

As the night wore on, the conversation drifted back and forth between Gotham's crime schemes and the strange twist of Tim Drake's love letters. But no matter how much they tried to move past it, the letters lingered in their minds, a reminder that Gotham's young hero wasn't just a vigilante - he was someone who could turn the tables, even on its most dangerous criminals.

Later that night, as they each returned to their respective hideouts, the letters followed them, tucked into coat pockets or locked in safes. And for the first time in a long while, Gotham's Rogues were left wondering what Robin's next move would be.

Because, in the end, Tim had done exactly what he'd set out to do: he'd gotten under their skin.