Birds of Feather

Ah… My dear beloved,

my noble and beautiful flower of evil,

You are the fairest in the land.

──Mirror, mirror on the wall,

who is the most…

Tim was a bit dizzy, thoughts tumbling one over each other, trying to make him come to senses. The words, those words were ringing in his head, and they were concerning. What in Snow White was this? Part of him wanted to point at the particular creep known as Ra’s Al Ghul. He would definitely call Tim ‘dearly beloved’. And ‘the flower of evil’? Another speech about ‘come to the dark side, we have cookies’? No, thank you. (God, he is really getting under my skin) But put away such thoughts, he needed to deal with the situation on hand: WHERE THE HELL IS HE!? Okay, he was incased in some type of box, the size is just enough to let him a little room to wiggle. It was not a wooden crate for sure, that was obvious from touching it. It was a solid hard material that definitely held some weight in it, smooth and cold to touch, so it was probably some polished stone. It was hard to say what exactly it was, Tim couldn’t see anything, but it might be marble or something similar. Tim pushed walls, to see which would move, and only the first one responded to his action. For now Tim decided to let it stay closed. He needed to assess the current situation, his state and equipment. It would be stupid to rush right away without giving it at least some thought, it looked like he might have some time for it. Although he better not to spend too much time. The front lid was heavy enough and didn’t allow any airflow if it was untouched, so the situation with oxygen was a bit difficult. Yeah, Tim could open the lid a little bit, but who knew if it would catch someone’s attention or not. So no sneaking some oxygen inside. So he had some time to think, but the time was not unlimited. The first question was, why was he here? The second one was where was he? And the third one when was he? His mind was so confused, so who knew for how long he was held there, plus the time-space shenanigans happen so it was always worth considering it. So, the first one. Why? Tim could remember clatter of hooves, horses neighing, wheels creaking, rolling on the stony road. Those memories were blurry, but he was able to piece it all together. So, it was most likely some type of carriage. That was a bit of an archaic way to kidnap someone. They also keep him in a fancy box, judging by the material. Could it be the Court of Owls? Those assholes are pretentious enough to do this. But still, it was a questionable choice. Tim examined himself, to find more clues. The wig on his head, the heels on his feet, it already was a give-away that he was in a Caroline Hill disguise (unless they for some reason decided to dress him up like a girl). The texture of the wig was familiar enough to think it was Caroline’s, he spent a hefty amount of money on the new one, so it would look completely genuine and wouldn’t be itchy. Light touches on his face also confirmed the makeup on his face. Small prosthetic chest and hip padding were the final confirmation of his theory. (I’m glad I don’t have those big boobs like first time, those are much better) That led him to some thoughts about other reasons on why he could be kidnapped. It was less likely that it was because he was TDW or RR. Were they targeting Caroline in particular? Or someone in the medical industry? Or were they targeting women in particular? Tim doubted someone would uncover his disguise and target him because of it. He also was wearing some type of long attire made out of some smooth material, cold to touch, reminding him of silk. That… led to interesting thoughts. It felt like those were some ceremony robes and he was going to be sacrificed by some cult. Probably just his paranoid mind whispering those ideas. But Tim hated how probable this scenario was. (Or maybe it’s some weird-ass ritual from Ra’s) He didn’t have his utility belt, not like Caroline had it. He did, however, have some cards in his sleeves. Or, well, birdarangs and batarangs. It was hard to actually pull them to properly touch them to understand which properties they had. He didn’t have space to put them back. So he slid just one down in his hand. It was an electric one. (Okay, that’s a good one. I wish I had my disks though) By the look of it, he would need to adapt on the spot and use his surroundings after all. Now, to the where question. The probable kidnappers were: Ra’s, Owls, some weird cultists and a percentage for other people (who wanted to have fun, who targeted a specific group, who chose on random, to either kill, torture, sell and a lot of other fun activities). That was… A lot of variables to consider. Whatever it was, he would need to decide to be RR or CH in this situation. At least the assessment showed that he didn’t have a concussion or even bruises, which meant they were gentle with him. It excluded some minor options. Or, they beat him to near death and the small amount of Lazarus Waters he had kicked in. Though, it would heal only the immediate fatal injury if he was on a ley-line. And then it would have a cool-down, like it was some fucking game. So, they probably were gentle. His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion outside. Someone was trying to open the lid, and obviously struggled with it. So it wasn’t someone who kidnapped him, they would have a way to open it without any trouble. So it was someone unfamiliar with it, and, presumably, weak too. Did they want to help? Or cause harm? In any case, Tim gripped his birdarang a tid bit stronger. He heard a high-pitched voice talking about people coming soon. So they were a third party. And they were talking about getting a uniform. So they presumably needed Tim’s attire. An interesting choice of voice for this cloak. Tim decided to open the lid. Judging by the information the person outside said, people were coming soon, and those are definitely his abductors they were talking about. Not good. But it meant right now was the prime chance for an escape, there was only one person outside currently. And as he did that, the person said that they were going to use their secret move. So when Tim peeked outside, he was met with a circle of blue fire. He hoped it was a trick that made it blue, because actual blue fire was the hottest. As Tim was readying to use his weapon, he saw who was causing all this ruckus. A cat. A goddamn flying cat. (Was it like Teekl?) “Kyaaa! Why are you up?! And what a girl is doing here?!” It screeched, it looked scared. So this gives him some new information. Firstly, apparently he wasn’t supposed to be awake. If he was drugged, that meant his training helped. He wasn’t sure what made him wake up earlier if the cause was different. The second piece of information was the surprise of seeing a girl. So he was less likely to be kidnapped for appearing female. This place was not meant to be for women. If the cat needed a uniform, maybe to blend in or for other personal use in a non-female place, he could be male-presenting. While doing the mental gymnastics, Tim gave a quick look-over of this place, his theories about it being a cult resurfaced again. The room was dark, not fully lit. The first thing that he noticed were floating coffins with some ornaments and glowing round stones in the middle. The windows had metal ornaments in the best Gotham traditions. And the chandelier was made out of a clutter of chains with glowing purple stones. But what made his breath hitch and his body freeze was the fountain with a green liquid. It was more goo-y and paler in color, but… The place had an incredible Gotham atmosphere and they used to have some pits with Lazarus waters. Who knew what could’ve happened with them in the shit-hole that Gotham was with her hazardous water. On top of the fountain was a floating mirror. So it was a cult. It didn’t look like League, they would use different aesthetics. The placement of coffins indicated it was not the Court, they would do it differently. But Gotham had enough cults on its own. At least he knows the where question. Not fully, but even this was helpful. The cat was not happy with Tim ignoring Grim the Greatest. (Grim? Like Grim Reaper? Maybe he needs the uniform in hopes of getting into this cult?) The cat also made a cute attempt to attack him, but Tim easily dodged it, ducking and making a quick escape to one of the exits he noted earlier. The creature was not fast enough to catch up to him, so Tim managed to outran him and discovered himself in the library. He perched on top of one of the bookshelves, the dark cloak worked perfectly with concealing himself in shadows. Plus, this place was poorly lit. “Uuugh, you, puny human! I will find you and you’re gonna regret crossing the Great Grim!” the cat exclaimed, getting all worked out. (suure) Tim was spinning the birdarang in his hand, looking over the library, noting the path through the bookshelves and possible exits. The creature was going to set the place ablaze and Tim started thinking about giving him a mild shock, but was interrupted by the sound of a whip, hitting Grim. (Is it hypocritical of me calling it too much? I was going to electrocute him… Yeah, it’s hypocritical. Still going to call it too much and shame this guy at least in my head) “This is not a mere rope, but the Whip of Love!” the man exclaimed. A man that looked like someone who could pass as one of the Gotham crazies. If he had a PhD then he would definitely count as their Rogue. Really, most of them had PhDs. Bruce forbade them from becoming Doctors so they wouldn’t become part of the Rouge gallery. Jokes on him, Tim already worked with Catwoman when he was a kid, and now was wanted by InterPol. Although, B didn’t appreciate Tim dropping out of the high school and refusing to go back citing the no PhD rule. Also. (Did he just call it the Whip of Love?! What in the name of BDSM is happening right now?!) “And you!” the Crow man exclaimed, looking directly at Tim, which made him instantly wary. This immediately placed this bird into a dangerous category for noticing him so easily. “Ah, one of the new students…” he said in a calmer tone. A student. A fucking student. (THIS IS SCHOOL?!) he screamed in his mind. With that the second thought followed: (He uses this BDSM whip at school???) So the cat meant school uniform… It was an all-boys school? There were no such schools that looked like that in Gotham. Although the cult theory still worked, some of them worked like that. People wouldn’t immediately realize it’s a cult, and they either realize it when it’s too late or they get brainwashed. Well, he will need to investigate it from the inside. The second time he did that. But… This place had a lot of floating stuff, the cat was obviously magical. And there was a big chance the school either abducted or lured people with magic, and Tim didn’t have an ounce of that. Meaning he would have to pass it on to Zatanna and would help with it in some other way. “I finally found you. You shouldn’t have left the Gate on your own!” the Crow furry exclaimed. The Gate… Did he mean those coffins? Why Gate though? (Gates to Hell, Gates to Heaven… Some cults love religious themes. Huh, they could actually use religious guilt and promise to ‘cure’ those kids, while binding them to their use) Again, those were just wild theories that always ran through his mind. Most of them were just theories passing by, with a very low chance of being true. But he was also proved multiple times that even those low probable theories were true. Also, Bernard just amplified this urge to make crazy theories at every moment. He will roll with the student role right now to learn as much as he could, until the matter of him having no magic will present itself. Then he would see how the situation would unfold to decide how he would have to leave. Meanwhile the crow man started talking about his familiar breaking rules, how it was so rebellious… Nope, he’s not rolling with this one. Nuh-uh. This cat would ruin everything with his attitude alone. And, as Tim predicted, Grim immediately protested. Crow ignored him. “Now, come out,” the man asked him. (I’m bi. Ah, wait, that’s not what he meant) Tim gracefully landed in front of the staff member, removing the hood to see the reaction on him looking female-presenting. “A girl? What? Or.?” The Crow was confused. The ‘or’ indicated on him thinking Tim was trans. But what way? Did they think Tim was a trans guy who either didn’t transition yet or decided to look like that for another reason? That would be progressive. Or did he think Tim was a trans girl, but because he was AMAB he was here? That would be… No. But what about intersexes? Crossdressers? Enbys? Ah, so many questions. “We will deal with it after the ceremony,” Crow shook his head. God. No, it was a 100% cult, Tim will stop thinking otherwise. He didn’t need to hurt his brain even further worrying with thoughts if it was or was not a cult. Although, it was in a way helpful. Who knows how they would react to him having no magic. Maybe he would cite him being a girl to dip? Part of him wanted to do a Valley Girl accent, but instead decided on a British accent, the strong one like Alfred had. He lived with that man for a few years, he even adopted a few words. Although, it wasn’t like Bruce had it. Half of his vocabulary was British words and he often slipped to that accent when he was tired or didn’t care much. Dick had it to some degree and so did Jason. Though, when tired Dick would slide into a Romani accent and Jason into the Crime Alley talk. Tim, however, would descend into a French accent in most of the cases. When he was a kid he would even use French words from time to time, the result of being raised bilingual (though, there were Korean words from time to time, but not enough to make him trilingual). It was most noticeable when he was way too dizzy, hadn’t slept for days or was under a lot of anesthesia or a lot of pain meds. Fun times. “I doubt I am a student here, there must be a mistake,” he started. “I don’t even remember how I got here,” he made a bait for an answer. This time the furry guy actually listened to him! “There’s no mistake! You got here through the Gate, after all. Although, you are quite eager, aren’t you? Leaving the gate before the ceremony… Ah, the ceremony! It probably is well under the way. Let’s head to the Mirror Chamber!” The man was so full of joy. Disgusting. Tim already didn’t like the guy. They went to the ‘Mirror chamber’, probably that place with coffins, seeing how it had a floating mirror there. “This little buddy blew the lid off. And I don’t remember going through any ‘Gate’”, Tim huffed. “Your familiar is your responsibility,” Crow man said and Tim scoffed at it. “And any student who wishes to attend this Academy must go through the Gate’s door,” answered the furry. “Normally the students wake up only after the door is opened with a special key…” he continued. Tim decided to interrupt it. “Well, then why wasn’t mine closed? There was no key-hole too,” Tim noted. “That’s weird,” the crow man frowned and said it mostly to himself. Tim’s bird brain immediately went to playing a meme in his head. (That’s weird. That’s suspicious) “Anyway!” energetically said the staff member. “The open ceremony is about to end. Let’s haste!” ushered the crow. “I don’t understand where I am, or who you even are!” Tim said in a bit demanding tone. Not a loud one, more on a scolding side. Though, British itself could sound like that no matter what you say if you want to. “Oh my, are you still dazed? It appears that teleportation magic has left you disoriented,” the bird dude, the bird fella, the guy in a mask said. (Magic. He said the magic 'magic' word. And so I was teleported here, huh) “Well, it’s alright. It happens pretty often!” The staff member explained. (NO IT’S NOT ALRIGHT YOU MORON) “I shall explain everything to you. Ahh, my kindness is boundless!” The bird serenaded to himself. (Oh god, he is a broken reflection of those people on Galas, who donate money and praise themselves for it endlessly) As they went to the courtyard, the bird man continued: “And I am Dire Crowley, the headmage appointed by the chairman to take care of this place.” (Crowley? Could’ve figured this much. And Dire? Well, that’s certainly the way. He would fit in Gotham so well), “This is Night Raven College, the most prestigious academy of Twisted Wonderland for those who are blessed with a rare aptitude for magic,” and whoo bay was it a big can of worms to open. So he was right about magic, and about them abducting people with it. Because, yeah, magic was still rare, but they made a school for it. That was a front for a cult and didn’t even try to hide it. Although, the atmosphere could be mysterious on purpose, to appease kids. Plus, none of the magic users he knew mentioned something like that. And they would, seeing how it looked so Gotham, just to tease about their gothic brand. And, Twisted Wonderland? What in Lewis Carrol did he mean? “I don’t–” Tim got his confirmation. So it’s better to confront that man about Tim having no magic now, instead of in the middle of the ceremony. And of course he was interrupted. “Only those who the Dark Mirror perceives as talented in magic are admitted to the Academy. Those are summoned by Gates which could appear anywhere,” the crow man kept feeding him information without any thought. So, it could appear anywhere. Such an easy way to kidnap. Could spin the story about them being so talented, that they were the 'chosen one' to study here. And why was he transported without his equipment then? Did it just drop right where he was standing before being abducted? That could be bad. “Anywhere? Then why–” started Tim, only to be interrupted again. A bit more and he was going to go full on Janet Drake on him. “An Ebony Carriage carrying a Gate should have come meet you” (Ebony? Ebony Dark’ness Dementia…Focus!) “I don’t recall such thing, '' managed Tim to say something. “Huh? Seems like you had a bit of a bad reaction to the transportation…” murmured Crowley more to himself then to him. “Anyway! Let’s go to the entrance ceremony!” (god this man is awkward…) Grim was trying to say something, but no one cared enough to listen to him. When they came closer to the ‘chamber’, they heard people talking about headmage. Huh, looks like students weren’t thinking much about him as well. But then all looks were on him, as Crowley asked him to go to the mirror. Tim tried to argue, but Crowley really wasn’t listening. That’s bad.

“Wait, a girl?”

“What girl is doing here?”

“Maybe that’s…”

“State your name” said the ominous mirror, floating on top of not Lazarus Waters. Tim tried to look as confident as he could. It really was time for Janet Drake. “Caroline Hill” he said with some dominance in his tone. “Your real name, boy” (Aw, there goes my cover) —––––

“Wait, what?”

“So… it’s a dude?”

“For real?”

“Since when is the mirror transphobic?”

“It wasn’t before…”

After some pause Tim tsked in the manner some socialists did. Or Damian. It was bad, because explaining later why TDW was here? But it looked like there was nothing he could do, not with all those people around, who all presumably had magic. Too many and he wasn’t prepared enough. “It’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, mirror,” he said, proud of his name. “Hmm, the shape of your soul… is tarnished and unknown to me” (Tarnished, you say…) . . . (sounds about right)