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Young Justice.
That’s all Tim would like to say about this entire situation. It was a YJ mission. And it’s entirely the team’s fault that he’s here right now.
Where exactly is, here?
Tim isn’t sure.
Somewhere in Ukraine, maybe? There’s mountains but which mountains, he isn’t sure.
Not that it matters anyway.
Bart’ll find him eventually.
Tim just has to stay where he is until the overactive speedster tracks him down.
That really is the plan. Stay put. Survive. Maybe take a nap and think on how exactly he thought making a Superhero team of chaos was a good idea.
It…doesn’t quite work out that way.
There’s movement in the woods. Movement that isn’t Tim. And voices.
Animals don’t have voices.
People have voices.
And Tim’s now almost certain he’s somewhere in a Slavic country. Maybe not Russia. But somewhere close by, at the very least.
He thinks for a moment. Because his experience with Slavic countries generally begins with Mobs and ends with KGBeast. Which, he knows is a very limited band of experience. But it is several dozen people. And none of those experiences have been good. Well, correction. Most of those experiences have not been good.
But these people don’t seem hostile.
And Tim’s fairly certain that the mob don’t talk about squirrels.
“Hello!” Tim calls out into the forest surrounding him and the voices stop. There’s a hushed whispering – almost whisper-yelling – conversation before a large figure bursts into the clearing.
“Hello” A smaller figure says from behind them, shier than the larger figure’s scrutiny that seems more performative than actual evaluation.
Tim waves. Because…OK. Action completed.
What now?
“I’m Gregor” The large figure says “That’s Mariah. Anatoly and Karin are standing back in the woods waiting for you to slip up”.
Is that meant to be a threat? Tim thinks, frowning. Because all it did was tell Tim that there are 4 people in the clearing. One of them is too shy to take a step and the largest figure is probably there to intimidate him.
He relaxes almost instinctively. Because no mob would be this sloppy.
“Alvin” He introduces with a smile.
Gregor’s eyes narrow like he’s trying his best to read Tim but…Tim gets the feeling that Gregor isn’t the best at being cautious. This whole situation probably isn’t even his idea. Which means someone is directing him. Someone who’s a bit smarter.
“Alvin. A bit of a strange name” another voice calls out from the shadows.
Tim takes great care in not looking over in that direction. Civilians or not, 4 people with potential weapons vs Tim, who’s as unarmed as he could possibly be, are not great odds.
“Yeah. I’m from the states, actually” Tim says, waving his hand and thinking hard. Because how would an American be in the Slavic woods?
“Camping trip gone wrong. I think I may have gotten lost near a river???”
Tim’s fairly sure he saw a river before Cassie accidentally shoved him off the Super-Cycle, at least.
“The rest of my group is probably looking for me. I was planning on doing the classic thing everyone tells you to do when you’re lost in the woods”
“Stay in the same place and wait for someone to find you?” Another voice, female this time, calls out from the same shadows.
“That’s what they always told us in class”
The two figures, formerly in shadow, step out.
Now there’s all 4 people in the clearing, Tim takes the chance to observe them. Carefully. Non-obtrusively. Because his Robin suit’s shoved behind some bushes in the clearing with his batarangs. And Tim really doesn’t want to fight skittish civilians.
The large figure – Gregor – is…average. Brown hair. Brown beard. Larger than average figure. Wearing a green waistcoat. Not a weapon in sight. Nor the indications of a hidden weapon. Large and intimidating but in the same way that Clark is. Big marshmallow, Tim’s willing to bet.
The small figure is even easier to read. Mariah, Gregor had said. Smaller. Thinner. Dark brown hair an outright mess in her face as she tries to brush it back. Must be the humidity. She’s wearing a dress, so more opportunity to hide weapons. But Tim doesn’t see enough muscle on her or confidence in her to make her read as a threat.
The other two figures are slightly more interesting.
The male, Anatoly, Tim’s guessing, has black hair and brown eyes. Almost adoption bait, Jason would have said. Though Cass also has brown eyes. Let alone Damian’s green eyes and Duke’s…Well. Eyes the colour of whatever he wants them to be because light manipulation. Either way. The glasses are a glaring weakness. But what draws Tim’s eye is the squirrel on his shoulder. Because…squirrel?
Tim shakes his head.
Squirrel? OK. Fine. Not weirder than most of the other things Tim has seen.
The last girl is…different.
Tim can see Karin take him in like a strategizer. Colder than the others. More in control of her emotions. Completely in contrast to the red-headed stereotype. Her expression is closed-off, a long red braid over her shoulder and a white dress over her form, with some necklaces dangling from her neck.
She’s the one who registers as a potential threat in Tim’s mind.
Not a threat yet. She has no weapon that Tim can see. Doesn’t stand like a trained warrior. But she has potential.
That’s the one to keep an eye on.
“This is floodground. And the rain’s heading in. I doubt you’d be able to stay here for very long. Maybe a few hours if you’re lucky” Anatoly says “We’re staying in a cabin not far up the way? If you’d like to come seek shelter? We’re been there a few days now cause it keeps raining on and off. And the trails on this part are tricky to say the least. Let alone when it’s wet”
Tim looks at the ground. It is quite moist. And Tim can in fact hear a river not far off. Floodground would make an unfortunate amount of sense.
Besides. It’s Bart. He’ll probably find Tim no matter where he is.
And he can run on water.
Tim looks up at the group with a shy smile “If you don’t mind”
-
Their host is…something.
Tim can’t quite…
There’s something off. Tim knows there’s something off. That figure is…old? Like a grandmother. But Tim…Tim can’t remember any details. Grey hair. Long joints. And something about Tim’s training pinged at her the second he caught sight. But he isn’t sure what exactly is wrong.
She doesn’t seem armed. She’s old. Frail-looking. But something in Tim’s experience or his instincts, says that this figure is more dangerous than a mob member.
So Tim keeps an eye on her.
Watches her speak to the walls. Watches her take a backpack from under the bed. Watches her watch them.
She knows Tim is watching her. They’re aware of one another, in a way that the others aren’t. They’re each watching the threat. And they’re both watching Karin
Anatoly wasn’t wrong, is the thing. When Tim stands up the day after he landed in this area (Stands up because he outright refused to fall asleep in enemy territory), the world outside of the hut is flooded.
There’s fast-moving water in front of the door and Tim’s willing to bet that most attempts at swimming would be fruitless. They’d be swept away the instant they set a foot in it. Their best chance would be to drift and hope they land ashore somewhere.
It’s why Tim stops Anatoly from going for a swim to go and find food.
The human body can survive weeks without food. And there are things to eat in the cabin that, while weakening them, probably won’t kill them.
The old woman watches Tim more closely after that. Like she disapproves.
“We’ve been out of food for days now. I’m so hungry” Karin complains one evening as Tim does his best to purify the rainwater.
The last thing they need right now, while weakened from starvation, is to catch some kind of gastro-intestinal disease.
“The human body can go weeks without food. We’ll be fine as long as we don’t run anywhere or something similar” Tim interjects.
Though he has to admit that he is also now starting to worry. Because where is his team? Where is Bart? Hell, Tim would even take Superboy right now.
Being in enclosed spaces with strangers was never Tim’s idea of fun.
“But my stomach is hurting” Mariah says instead. And Tim sighs. Because yeah, starvation isn’t supposed to be pleasant. But Anatoly stepping a foot out of the door would be suicide. Especially as weak as they all are.
And even if Tim could swim the current and find food. How the hell is he supposed to find the cabin again?
No. Tim knows a bad idea when he sees one. And this is a Bad Idea.
And yet. Something tells Tim staying would be more dangerous than he expects.
The old lady doesn’t get weaker. Her eyes, which Tim can’t discern the colour of, become wilder. She stares at Gregor for longer periods of time. Tim stops leaving any of his cabin-mates alone.
Starts carrying a kitchen-knife at his side.
Starts preparing for a fight.
Because something’s happening.
Their host isn’t getting weaker. She’s getting stronger. Standing taller. Talking to the walls for longer periods of time. Avoiding the shadows.
Tim finds scorched bones under the floorboards. Chicken bones, if Tim would have to guess. Still weird. Maybe even weirder than human bones. Because what are chicken bones doing beneath the floor boards?
But Tim isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth for now. Not until they’re out of here. All of them.
He makes a broth. As best he can.
Water.
Salt.
Some off-cuts of some old vegetables. Onion tops and carrot tops. The stems of plants that Tim has Anatoly confirm are not poisonous.
A real last-ditch effort at nutrition. And Tim isn’t sure it’ll actually provide any strength. But he sees what’s coming. These people are going to need their strength. But not Karin. Something’s up with Karin. Specifically, something’s up between the old lady and Karin.
Spending long periods of time together. Looking at one another like they’re sharing a secret.
Karin’s stronger than the others. Like she’d been eating, if only sparingly.
And Karin’s also started staring at the others.
Less like friends. More like pieces of dangling meat in front of her face.
Yeah, Tim doesn’t think so.
He starts shoving Mariah and Anatoly into the main sitting room at night, sharing body heat with Gregor under the pretense that their bodies would burn more calories if they shiver. Which is true. But Tim doesn’t huddle under the blankets. He sits, at the feet of the others with a kitchen knife in his hands and stares into the shadows.
Because there’s something there. Multiple somethings, maybe. Sometimes, they take the shape of something resembling humanoid. Sometimes they’re smaller.
But they aren’t what Tim’s watching out for.
No.
He and the old lady watch one another in the dark.
“You’re strong” she tells him every night “But strength only gets you so far”
Tim would raise his head, each evening just a bit lower, trying to hide the weakness with adrenaline. He isn’t sure how well it works. But Karin stays in the room with her. Doesn’t lift from the bed.
“I’m stronger than this. Than whatever this is” he always says.
She laughs “Nobody is”
But it continues. Days and nights begin to blend together in a haze of hunger and sleep deprivation.
Gregor is too weak to walk. Mariah starts moving about even less. Anatoly’s squirrel disappears.
Tim doesn’t ask.
But he keeps them in the living room. Keeps Gregor on the couch. Keeps Anatoly and Mariah from the windows where shadows start flitting by.
Tim isn’t even sure if the shadows are real anymore.
“You’re stupid”
The voice is gruff.
Tim almost thinks it may be Gregor, finally speaking despite the weakness. But the voice is too strong. And it isn’t coming from the couch where the 3 lay, asleep more than awake these days.
Tim looks down.
There’s an potato. A fucking potato.
Tim’s officially lost it.
“You’re not strong enough. Not for this. Not to resist forever”
“Go fuck yourself, sleep deprivation given culinary form”
“Think that if you want. But I know what’s happening. And you aren’t strong enough to resist. No-one is”
“I am. I will be”
“They’re too weak to even think about fighting you. You even have a weapon. It’d be so easy…”
“No”
“Then you’re stupider than I thought”
“Leave him alone, Potato!”
That’s a cabbage.
Did Tim fall asleep? Is he having a nightmare? Sleep deprived hallucination? What even is this?
But Tim’s knife droops and sharp as it is, cuts along his thigh. He inhales. Because he isn’t asleep. This is…real? Maybe? Or maybe Tim’s hallucinating.
“We’re the Chompettes! We generally only speak to-“
There’s a name. Some kind of name. But Tim’s brain doesn’t register it.
“What?”
“Potato’s upset. Which is…it’s OK! People are allowed to have their emotions and all that”
The cabbage grins at him. Tim blinks at it.
“But him encouraging you to…”
“I’d vote you eat him before you start on the others”
“Raspberry!”
“You’re vegetables” Tim blurts out.
The loaf of bread!!!! Speaks next “Only some of us and only kind of. There’s a lot going on in here. And you’re…”
“Trying his best, Bread”
“A futile attempt”
“Potato!”
Tim looks over his shoulder. Gregor is still there. Breathing too shallow. Mariah’s curled up in a ball, clutching her stomach. Anatoly’s face is filled with dried tears.
“You’re not actual vegetables. So I’m assuming you aren’t edible”
Potato laughs “Oh, everything’s edible if you try hard enough”
“Well you’d certainly know” the onion says.
Tim drops the knife in favor of clutching his hair “I’ve lost it. I’ve officially lost it”
“You really haven’t” Cabbage reassures.
“Not yet anyway” Potato snipes.
“I’d pick up the knife. They’re coming” Raspberry advises.
Tim, not sure what else to do, picks up the knife.
The old lady is there. As usual. But this time, Karin is by her side, a knife at her side as well.
Fuck.
Potato laughs.
Karin lunges before Tim can even think about whether or not this is real. But Tim’s Robin. He knows how to fight. Starved or not.
He parries and swipes across her arm.
She doesn’t drop the knife. But the old lady makes a humming sound, like she’s considering. Thinking. Like Tim had impressed her.
He and Karin don’t have to go back and forth for very long. It doesn’t take much. Not for this. Tim’s fought killer crocodiles. Tim’s fought the Joker. It’d be a cold day in hell if he allows himself to get beaten by a civilian.
He pushes through the weakness. Shoves the hunger pangs and the…What? Chompettes? To the back of his head.
He disarms Karin, stomps on her wrist as she reaches for it on the floor (Tries his absolute best not to relish in the snapping of bone under his heel). And stops. Because again. What now?
He turns on the old lady “Let us go” He demands and there’s thunder at his back.
She tilts her head at him “You’re strong” she says again.
“I said, let us go!”
“You remind me of someone”
That’s…new.
Tim’s brows scrunch as the imaginary bread behind him gasps.
“He was good too. Like you”
“Everyone can be good if they try to be”
“Not everyone. Not all the time”
Tim scoffs “We always try our best anyway”
The dark eyes under sunken brows darken.
“Don’t listen to him. You’re better than that”
The old lady looks at Potato. Karin looks at Potato. Tim looks at Potato. Which means…the Potato is real.
And if the Potato is real, then so are the rest of them.
Tim’s eyes widen.
“Actually, I vote that you listen to the new kid” Raspberry interjects “Because none of us have ever forgiven you”
The old lady stays silent.
“I mean, you did eat us” Cabbage says, tone more somber before Tim sees a mask of cheerfulness cross her face “Which is OK! I think! Maybe!”
“Will you let us go?” Bread asks.
Tim’s still standing on Karin’s broken wrist. Karin’s stilled under his feet, staring at these vegetables and a loaf of bread. The old lady is staring at bread. Expressionless.
She doesn’t answer.
“Cannibalism” Tim realizes. “You” he points the knife at Potato “You’re encouraging people to turn to cannibalism?”
Potato raises an eyebrow “I’m a new one. Not the original”
Tim thinks. It’s hard. His head is foggy. His limbs are heavy. The adrenaline is leaving his system. In bursts of shivers.
Anatoly, Gregor and Mariah are still sleeping. Tim isn’t sure if they’re breathing.
Tim didn’t come all this way for them all to die of starvation in a cannibal’s house.
The old lady doesn’t move.
Tim senses weakness.
“Everyone is capable of goodness” he says.
Potato scoffs.
The old lady turns to him.
“Even when they don’t think they are” he says, remembering when Bruce was broken. Grieving. When he thought that there was no good in the world. No good in him.
Tim takes a breath. And throws the knife in his right hand.
It thunks into the wood right by Potato. It…he. He goes silent.
Tim holds up his hands, a surrendering motion. Weaponless.
“Everyone is capable of being better than they think they’re able” he says, heartbeat resonating in his head. Because this woman isn’t human. There’s something very wrong here. She’s probably the cannibal that they’ve talked about.
She’s probably stronger than Tim is on a Good day. And right now, Tim’s weak. Starved and sleep deprived and his adrenaline has dropped.
This is the weakest Tim’s probably ever been in his life.
But he means what he says.
He thinks that, whoever this woman is, whatever she is, she can be better. Monster or not.
He holds his arms in position.
The old lady blinks at him like she’s seeing someone else.
The rain outside stops.
“You can’t!” Potato snarls at both of them.
Tim meets her eyes “You can. Because if I can be, you can be too. Both of you” he directs to Karin at his feet.
“Immortality is a curse as much as a blessing” the old woman whispers “I had forgotten…”
“Then you’ll remember what’s important” Tim says, desperate.
Her eyes clear.
They’re a dark brown. Her back isn’t as hunched as Tim thinks it was. Skin not as wrinkled. Her hair is grey, yes. But not damaged or scrunched as he thought it was.
“What’s important”
Her voice is resonant and clear.
“The secret is important!” Potato snarls. He seems to have gotten over Tim almost impaling him with a kitchen knife, at least. But his words are interesting. A secret.
Immortality.
Tim almost scoffs. Because of course. Immortality is such a commodity. Until you get it for real. And then what? You live forever. At whatever cost, because the cost is always too high.
“The secret…” the immortal in the room mutters “Is long gone. And never to be replicated”, then, she turns to Tim “You are free to go when the floodwaters recede. I must go”
A moment’s silence.
“Can we go, too?”
The loaf of bread…who was probably once a person is the one who asks the question.
The immortal stills.
Bites at her lip as she stares out of the door. Like she can’t bear to look at them. Like the weight will get to her if she does.
“I speak you free. All of you”
Potato screeches.
The shadows that Tim swears were hallucinations whisk around the room. There’s 5 shadows. 4 children. One larger figure. The 4 children shriek in laughter and glee as they run out the door. The man, older, clings to the furniture with clawed fingers.
The vegetables are gone.
One of the children’s shadows turns around at the door. A girl with a billowy dress and a stoic expression. She stares at the shadow of a man clinging against what comes next.
She turns back and pulls at his ankles.
The man screams as he’s pulled out of the door. The stoic girl still staring at the door as if nothing had transpired.
She looks at Tim.
“Stronger than I expected”
“Good”
The flood waters recede as the ghosts walk across, revealing greenery and wet soil.
“You’re free to go. The girl is not” The immortal woman says, head tilted down so that her long grey hair falls into her face.
Tim…hesitates.
Gregor, Mariah and Anatoly need help. Medical help. Now.
But…
“Superboy!”
Bart and Superboy arrive in a wash of wind and too-fast-speech about how worried they were. How Tim should have called them a week ago. And Tim had in fact been planning to. But, Gregor. Anatoly. Mariah. Karin. Tim can’t save Karin from what she’s probably already halfway to becoming.
But he stayed. To save the others. To try and save Karin.
Bart and Superboy stop, seeing Tim facing down an old woman, standing on a girl’s broken wrist “There’s three people on the couch. They’ve been starved for weeks. They need immediate medical assistance. Bart, take the girl. Get her to a hospital. Superboy, take both of the boys”
They vanish as fast as they arrived.
Tim turns back to the immortal.
“There’s a guy in England. A right asshole. But he’s good at what he does” Tim says, searching the room for a pen and paper. Writing down a number that Tim knows by heart.
“And what does he do?”
“The impossible”