One and Done

Blending Red and Orange

There was just... so much. It was all red. So... red.

     Tim had stopped answering his comms nearly two hours ago now. His tracer had disappeared for longer but it was back now. The problem was... the little red dot hadn't moved since it came back on. Worried, Bruce decided to check it out, bringing Nightwing, Robin and Red Hood as back up just in case.

     It was an alleyway between three red brick buildings, left, right and back. One was really tall. The ground and was painted red, so many shades of red, with drying blood and paint. The scent brought dinner back up. But the worst part of all of it?

     The crumpled body in the center, laying in a pool of blood.

     It's limbs came out at many different angles that obviously weren't natural. It was laying tilted on its stomach, face down in its own ichor. Batman stepped forward towards the body, grabbing it by a mangled shoulder and turning it face up.

     Pale, dead blue eyes met the white of the cowl.

     Batman shuddered.

     It was Tim, a shredded domino mask badly covering his face and his uniform disassembled. From the look permanently etched on his features, he'd died painfully.

     Bruce turned Tim onto his back, assessing the damage. His eyes flew to the word dug out of his son's chest.

     "Red." Batman whispered, gloves fingers trailing over the deep wounds. "Who did this?"

     "We've never seen them before. They're new. All our usual party starters are in Arkham." Dick muttered, pulling Damian into his side.

     The eldest son was trying to remain professional but it was such a shock to see Tim dead, dead like this. It was hard to hold himself together. Damian... seemed to be going into shock. He's still a kid, despite what he's seen. But none of them were ready for this.

     He had to stay strong for Robin.

     Jason was in physical pain. He was a few feet away from Tim, between the corpse and his other brothers. And his heart ached. Tim... Tim accepted him and trusted him when no one else would and stood by him and... and now he was just gone?

     How good was this villain? They didn't monologue or hesitate, they just killed. Even Joker liked to play and he was insane.

     How messed up could they be?

     Why?

     The sun descended beneath the skyline, the last shades of red dispersing into purple and basking the gruesome scene in shadows.

     Despite the coming night, no bats or birds were seen soaring through the sky. No shadows were cast on buildings or streets and no sounds of fighting could be heard. For once, Gotham seemed eerily silent.

     For a Little Bird had fallen, and it was time to bury the dead.

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"I believe I have an orange to pick."