Chapter Text
It all started when Tim was the ripe age of nine years old, when his parents came home from an expedition in Brazil.
He still remembers how his parents had come through the threshold of Drake manor arguing about a tome they had uncovered at the archaeological site. Apparently they had smuggled it from the dig, as they had with many of their artifacts, and had attempted to sell it to some black market traders. Unfortunately for them, no one seemed to want the ancient book, for whatever reason, and every appraiser in their contacts said it was worthless.
So now they were stuck with a worthless book that they couldn’t even read.
Of course, Tim saw this as an opportunity.
After all, it was boring being left alone in the large mansion while his parents were off traveling the world. While he knew that what they did was important, and he would never want to hold them back, he also wished to take part in their lives in some way. So maybe if he could decipher the book, he would be able to show how useful he can be and make his parents proud.
His parents had never given him any of their artifacts from previous expeditions, saying that they were too expensive, but this was different. If the book wasn’t worth anything, then surely they wouldn’t care if Tim asked for it. Besides Tim’s birthday was in a few days, and he doubts that his parents remembered to get him anything, so he could frame this as his birthday present.
It was perfect.
Tim will be able to prove himself, and his parents won’t have to waste money on buying him a present. And so Tim waited restlessly until his parents were about to leave on their next trip, a week before his birthday, and finally asked about the book. His parents were hesitant, as expected, but surprisingly Jack let out a chuckle and ruffled Tim’s hair.
“Look at our Timmy, already looking to follow in his parent’s footsteps. What do you think Janet?” His dad asked, looking over to his mother expectantly.
“It’s not like the book is worth anything anyways, hopefully it’ll at least keep him busy for a bit.” Janet responded picking at her nails absent mindedly.
“Well you heard her, the book is all yours. I’ll get it out of my study for you before we leave.” Jack said, patting Tim on the shoulder as he walked past the boy towards his study.
“Just don’t take too long, we have a flight to catch.” His mom called after him, causing Jack to raise his hand in acknowledgement.
His father returned to the foyer, a leather bound, encyclopedia sized book in hand.
“Well Timmy, here’s your present. Who knows, maybe you’ll even be able to translate it before we get back from Argentina.” His dad said jokingly, giving him a smile.
“Come on Jack, we don’t have all day.” his mother chided, already holding open the door to the manor.
“I’m coming! Love you Timmy, we’ll see you in three months okay? Be good.” Jack called to Tim, rushing to grab the rest of their luggage and joining Janet outside before Tim could respond.
“Love you too.” He whispered to the empty house.
—------------------
It took Tim 5 months to finally decipher the language that the book was written in.
He started by comparing it to Portuguese, the main language spoken in Brazil, and found a few similarities. He then did some research on the runes that the book came from to see if he could get a general time period of when it would have been written. Once he figured that out, he was then able to compare the writings to the indigenous languages used at the time.
He found that the writing seemed to originate from the Tupian family of languages. In particular, it was most similar to Old Tupi, but with some noticeable differences. As Tim struggled with the language, he finally realized that it was written in code based on the Old Tupi language. At that point, all he needed to do was find out the key in order to decipher the book. Thankfully his parents had called to tell him that they extended their trip for another three months, giving Tim the time he needed to translate the tome before they returned.
He was about a fourth of the way through the book when he confirmed his suspicions of the book being of occult origin. Tim had already guessed that was the case from the diagrams and visuals present in the book, but the writing confirmed it. It turns out the tome was used as a grimoire to communicate with the dead, and even summon demons.
Now, to say that Tim was skeptical of the book’s contents would be an understatement. However, he was also lonely and exceptionally curious if any of the rituals actually worked. Maybe he shouldn’t have started out by summoning a demon, but Tim honestly hadn’t expected it to work.
So when a bona fide demon from Hell came from the sigil that Tim had made with his own blood, he was surprised to say the least.
“What? Hey kid, are you the one who summoned me?” The imp like creature asked in perfect English.
Meanwhile, Tim could only gape at the creature in response. He hadn’t actually expected the ritual to work. Moreover, this just threw his entire belief system for a loop, because this basically confirmed that Hell was real. And if Hell was real then didn’t that have to mean that Heaven also existed? The magnitude of this revelation alone gave him a headache.
“Hey, Hey, snap out of kid. I can’t leave until we make a deal and then you dismiss me, so you better hurry up and get over your surprise.” The demon demanded snapping its hand in front of Tim’s face.
“A deal?” He questioned after taking a few minutes to process.
“Yeah, a deal. You give me your soul, and I’ll give you whatever you want. Money, riches, fame, you name it.” The demon listed off in a bored tone, obviously expecting Tim to be an easy target considering his age.
But Tim knew that there were always rules to these kinds of rituals. Thankfully he did have the sense to read all of the book before attempting anything, so he knew that the demon wasn’t telling the whole truth about him needing to make a deal.
“What about a game?” He inquired in the most childlike way he could think of.
“A game? Are you even old enough to play anything?” The demon questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Tim nodded, walking over a shelf in his room and producing a standard 52 card deck of playing cards. Tim has known how to play cards since he learned to walk. It was one of the only activities that Jack would do with him, especially once he learned that Tim knew how to count cards. But counting cards is really only effective in games like Black Jack where the cards are only shuffled once.
Or at least it would be if you were only able to follow the cards for one shuffle, but Tim has always been exceptionally observant. And if he’s the one shuffling, he can ensure that he gets the hand that he wants. Furthermore, many card games are more about the players than the cards themselves. In poker, for example, you can win with a bad hand if you manage to bluff well enough.
“Do you know Heads-Up Poker?” Tim asked, taking a seat on the floor and carefully removing the cards from the packaging.
“I know any game you could possibly think of, boy. Now what do you want to bet?” The demon replied with a sly grin, lowering itself down to sit across from him.
“Umm…” Tim trails off uncertainly, visibly biting his bottom lip in contemplation. “How about my soul, for 5 more years of life?”
“Deal.” It responds, its grin growing larger as it reaches a hand out for Tim to shake.
He takes the hand and lets out a hiss of pain as a dark brand burns into his palm where the demon grasped it.
“Don’t worry, it’s just proof of the deal. It will fade once the contract is fulfilled.” The demon replies showing the same mark on his own palm.
Tim simply nods as he begins to cut the deck.
“Oh, you don’t mind if I shuffle, do you?” He asks, feigning nervousness.
“Knock yourself out.” It responds nonchalantly.
Tim nods again, pretending to struggle with the cards as the demon eyes him greedily. Once he’s satisfied, Tim deals the cards giving both himself and the demon two cards placed face down in front of them.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” The demon asked pointedly.
Tim blanked for a few seconds in response, before realizing that he forgot one of the most important parts of poker. He was so busy focusing on shuffling the cards and tricking the demon into thinking him easy prey, that he forgot all about the chips.
“Oh. I uh. I think my dad has some chips we can use in his study.” Tim stammered in genuine panic at his mistake. But the demon simply snapped his fingers providing both Tim and himself with the same number of chips.
“Let’s just get this game started, yeah?” It challenged, picking up its hand is a smooth flourish.
Tim took his own hand, before making the small blind since he was dealing. The demon followed up with the big blind, before Tim revealed the first three community cards. An eight of clubs, a five of hearts, and a jack of hearts are displayed in front of the two players.
Immediately after the flop, the demon raises, pushing a generous amount of chips into the pot. Tim makes a show of furrowing his eyebrows in concern as he hesitantly calls. And so the game continues with the demon raising the bet, and Tim calling until the final two cards are finally revealed.
Before the players are the eight of clubs, a five of hearts, and jack of hearts from earlier, with an added seven of spades and two of hearts. The demon smiles as the final card as he throws his cards down in front of him in celebration.
Pocket jacks, making his hand a three of a kind.
“Alright kid this was fun, but I think it’s time we put an end to this charade.” It gloated, making a show of standing up and cracking its back.
“Yes, I agree.” Tim replied with a smile of his own as he lays down his own cards, an eight and a queen of hearts, making his own hand a flush.
The demon just stared incredulously at the cards, seemingly lost for words at its loss. Then, it suddenly made a move to lunge towards him. But, before the demon could reach him, a bright light shone from the symbol on both their hands and it disappeared just as its claws brushed against Tim’s cheek.
Tim couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief now that the game was over and began to collect his cards. The trick to stacking the deck was to make sure the other player got such a good hand that they thought they would win, but not a hand that was almost impossible to beat. The more probable the odds, the less likely they are to catch any slight of hand on Tim’s end.
Surprisingly enough, he found that the chips that the demon had conjured were left behind.
—------
As the years passed Tim had taken to summoning specters for company, and demons if he wanted to face a challenge. He never did tell his parents about the contents of the book, too worried that they’d take away the only company he was able to have.
However, with each year that passed, he couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t seem to be growing like other kids his age. He only lost a couple of his baby teeth, and he didn’t experience any growing pains that seemed to be common at his age.
It wasn’t until he was twelve that Tim realized he wasn’t just a late bloomer, no, he had stopped aging. Or at the very least, his aging process had slowed down from the amount of years he had gained from playing with the demons.
After all, Tim never lost a game and immortality had seemed like a good idea at the time.
It was at this time that Tim started lying. His parents were barely around, so telling them that he was a few years younger than he should have been was simple enough. Hacking into his public records was a bit harder, but not impossible. It was a good thing that his parents had already switched him to online school, otherwise he would have had to find some way to fake those records as well.
And so Tim started to ask for different things in each wager, money, tech, even magic, anything other than years of life. He could have just stopped making deals, but that would mean losing his one source of true entertainment. While he would still be able to talk to the ghosts, they couldn’t interact with the physical world. Besides, Tim found he enjoyed playing more when there was something at stake.
The problem was that Tim didn’t know how many years he had racked up before changing his bets. He would ask for different amounts each time he played, sometimes pushing his luck and asking for up to an extra hundred years for his soul.
As time kept moving it became harder and harder for Tim to keep his secret. By now he was sure that his parents had noticed something was off. They kept staying abroad for longer periods of time, and only coming home for a couple days at most. But that was fine, at this point he was used to them being gone.
In fact their absence made his second hobby of Bat watching much easier. Especially because Tim was able to use some of his newly learned magic to keep himself hidden from them even better than before.
It wasn’t until an odd man in a trench coat showed up at his door that everything came screeching to a halt around him.
Tim was startled when he heard the knock at the door. He had been sitting in the kitchen in the middle of a game with an arch demon when he heard the unfamiliar rasp of knuckles on wood. Considering the fact that his parents never knocked when they entered, and he certainly wasn’t expecting any company, Tim elected to ignore it. If it was a thief or someone trying to break in then the sigils he carved into the wood should be enough to scare them away.
He laid down the last community card, and watched as the demon's face turned smug. Tim couldn’t wait to wipe that look off his face. Just as he was revealing his cards, he heard the doors to his house swing open, and suddenly there was a disgruntled looking man in a trench coat standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Tim was so shocked by the turn of events that he wasn’t even able to savor his victory before the demon vanished before him.
“So…” The man drawled, taking a step into the kitchen, “You’re the twerp that’s been making deals with demons.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tim bluffed, expertly gathering up the cards and chips still left on the table.
“Right, because I didn’t just see you playing poker with an arch demon.” The man deadpanned, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.
“Demon? I don’t think those are real mister? Are you okay?” Tim asked, playing dumb as he finished shoving his poker material into his bag.
“Alright kid, let’s cut the crap huh?” The older man stated, putting his hand on the table where the rune Tim had made to summon the demon was still visible.
Tim couldn’t hide his wince at that, “It’s an art project?” He tried.
The man just raised an eyebrow in response and took a drag of his cigarette.
“You see, the reason that I’m here is because word has been going around Hell that someone has been making bets with demons and they never seem to lose. Now there are demons who are actually trying to come here in order to challenge this person. So, naturally, the next time I sensed a portal being opened to Hell, I tracked down the origin. What I wasn’t expecting is that this expert gambler isn’t even old enough to go to secondary school, let alone a casino.” He monologued, staring Tim in the eyes.
“Technically I’m thirteen, so I would be old enough to go to secondary school.” Tim replied with a shrug.
The man hummed as he looked Tim over. “Interesting, your physical body seems to be aging two years behind your actual age. Despite the fact that you’ve undoubtedly been alive for thirteen years, you only appear to be eleven.”
“Eleven?!” Tim exclaimed in surprise. “If I aged then why haven’t I gotten taller? I thought for sure I was still around ten.”
The man just took another drag of his cigarette in response. “Sorry kid, guess you just have bad genetics.”
Tim let out an indignant huff. “Okay, you caught me. Now what?”
The man then stepped back to lean against the kitchen counter, ashing his cigarette in the sink. “As much as I would love to just tell you to stop summoning demons and not have to deal with this, it appears that you have accumulated quite a bit of infernal essence. Which, if left alone, could cause way more trouble down the line than it’s worth. And while I would usually just seal up your magic and call it a day, I have a feeling that you would find some way to get around whatever I do eventually. So, against my better judgement, I am going to teach you how to properly regulate your magic and not cause a world ending disaster. Alright?”
Tim just sat there, blinking, as he registered what the man had said.
“You’re going to teach me how to control my magic?” He asked dumbfounded.
“Yes. Now, keep up before I change my mind.” The man stated, waving his cigarette in the air dismissively.
Tim learns that the man’s name is John Constantine, and that he’s kind of a member of the Justice League.
He also learns that the man is a drunk prick.
But a very knowledgeable drunk prick.
With his instruction, Tim is able to use his magic more effectively and even hide his infernal aura from others. Oddly enough, Constantine never stops Tim from summoning demons and making deals with them. In fact, he actually starts to take Tim with him on some of his missions, and has Tim use his gambling skills to make the demons go back to Hell. His partnership with Constantine continues even after Tim becomes Robin, and he’s made to practice his magic less often lest Bruce catches him.
But Tim never gets caught.
In Bruce’s grief he doesn’t seem to notice that Tim is in fact not going on digs with his parents, but instead taking care of some supernatural disaster. The man also doesn’t notice Tim’s apparent lack of aging.
Then Jason comes back, and Bruce’s attention is pulled away from him again. Even after his parents die and Tim starts living in the manor, Bruce never questions when he says that he’s spending time at a “friend’s house.”
While Dick and Steph will tease him about his height, about how he still seems to look thirteen despite being fifteen, they never actually question anything. And when Damian arrives and, him and Steph grow apart it gets easy enough to start lying about his age again.
It gets even easier when Bruce and most of his friends "die."
So now Tim is seventeen.
He’s been seventeen for a couple years now.
He’s actually turning twenty three today, not that anyone knows.
According to Constantine his aging will start to slow down even more once his physical body reaches its twenties. It doesn’t help that he’s gained even more years during his missions with the older man. Apparently some demons also like the rush of wagering everything, so they’ll only bet their whole lifeforce in return for Tim’s soul.
It’s annoying to say the least.
Speaking of annoying, did he mention that Ra’s knows?
Yeah. Despite the fact that his family of detectives is clueless about Tim’s aging affliction, somehow that old bag of bones figured it out. And it has certainly not helped the man’s obsession with him. Apparently he wants Tim to rule by his side for all of eternity, or something. He just really hopes the man means as an heir and not something else.
The League is pretty old fashioned so Ra’s probably means as an heir.
Right?
Right???
You know what?
It doesn’t matter, because Tim is not planning to join him anyways.
He takes in a cold breath of air, as he sits on the rooftop of Wayne Enterprises in his Red Robin gear. He moved out of the manor a couple years ago when he brought Bruce back from the timestream at “sixteen,” but has continued to go out as a vigilante. Although, he’s not a part of the Titans anymore and mostly sticks to patrolling Gotham now. After all, it would be harder to keep his secret if he was part of a team again. Besides, Tim is busy enough with Gotham and his supernatural side gig.
Outside of Gotham, he’s known as Rook, supernatural detective and John Constantine’s apprentice. The best part of being Rook is that he doesn’t have to hide anything around Constantine. The man couldn’t care less what he does as long as it doesn’t end the world. He’s also able to bring out his infernal essence, letting him appear as his true age rather than looking three to four years younger. Tim would do this normally, if only the demonic aura wasn’t so blatantly obvious.
Just as he’s about to stand up and continue with his patrol when he hears the distinctive sound of a portal opening behind him and lets out an involuntary sigh.
“I told you not to teleport to Gotham. Do you know how anal Batman gets about unauthorized use of magic in his city?” Tim grumbles, turning to face the man behind him.
Constantine just raises his canteen to his lips, taking a long drink of whatever alcohol he has today, before meeting Tim’s gaze.
“And normally I don’t, because you know who ends up getting their ass chewed out by the Bat when his devices detect magic? Not you, that’s for sure. Now come on, some twat opened up a portal to Hell the size of New York city in Kazakhstan and I need some help to close it before the world ends.” The man relays, already preparing a spell to teleport them to whatever hellscape they have to clean up this time.
“So business as usual?” Tim replies, snapping his fingers and changing into his form as Rook in a burst of infernal magic.
“Business as usual.” Constantine replies, taking another swig of his drink.
“Oh, and happy birthday kid.” The man adds, holding out his canteen for Tim.
“Thanks.” Tim responds with a small smile, taking the liquor and savoring the burn of the alcohol before they both disappear in a small flash of light.