Disclaimer-I don't own anyone. DC owns.
Summary: Christmas Eve is never a quiet night in Gotham.
Rating: PG for nudity.
The Reign of Roy
"I'M ROY, KING OF THE UNIVERSE!"
Tim punched his video game controller, trying to get the last of the magic
coins from level thirty two and a half. He sat cross-legged on his living
room floor, spending Christmas Eve curled up with a good video game. He
didn't need to be on patrol for another hour and life was good.
"I AM ROY AND I WILL BE YOUR MASTER! MASTER ROY!"
Tim's eyes darted back and forth. On the sofa next to him, his father had
begun folding his news paper. Damn. He wasn't hallucinating.
"YOU WILL BE MY SERVANT! THE REIGN OF ROY IS AT HAND!"
His stomach did summersaults as he followed his father to the window. Sure
enough, on their front lawn, in the snow, stood Roy Harper (who wasn't
wearing a coat), screaming at the top of his lungs.
"I AM THE MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE! GI JOE! MY LITTLE PONY!"
Tim's knuckles dug into his eyes. Why? Why him?
"Tim, get me the phone," Jack instructed, glaring at the man marring his
"Um. Maybe he'll leave on his own."
"ROY HARPER IS THE BEST TITANS LEADER IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE! SAY YE NOTHING
OF THE SNORKS? THEY EAT WHITECASTLE!"
"Tim, the phone. NOW."
Seeing no choice, Tim picked up the cordless phone from the coffee table
and regretfully handed it to his father. Well, not regretfully. Roy needed
to be stopped. But still. causing problems with Titans. either way, it was
bad for his identity.
* * *
The nearly mind-numbing effect of driving The Car through the back streets
of Gotham was shaken off Batman as his com link snapped to life suddenly,
on an emergency channel. "Batman, you'd better get back home. There's a
disturbance at the Drake residence," Oracle informed the Dark Knight.
"I'm busy." There was a fugative he was currently in search of. Hence the
mind-numbing patrol in the car. "Anything Tim can't handle?" He and Tim
were still having problems in their relationship, and he didn't want to
jump in too soon.
"There is an unnamed Titan screaming on Jack Drake's lawn that HE is the
best Titans leader, ever. I intercepted the call to the police."
"I'm on my way," Batman informed her. What the hell kind of trouble had
Dick gotten himself into now?
* * *
"OLIO! OLIO ICECREAM! COME ON POINTY EARS! LET ROBBIE COME OUT AND PLAY!"
Tim's heart caught in his chest. Not only was Roy going to obliterate his
secret identity, but the idiot had the wrong house. And the funny thing
was, Roy didn't look like he noticed or cared. His hair was standing
straight on end, his face was flushed, eyes bloodshot and dilated. From the
house, it looked like Roy might have OD'd on something.
"BUT YOU NEVER LET ROBBIE COME OUT AND PLAY! YOU KEEP HIM LOCKED UP!"
Turning around, he pulled his pants down around his knees, giving the
occupants of the house a full view of his terribly white ass. "LOOK AT
MEEEEE I'M POINTY EARS! I USE MY POINTY EARS TO SCRATCH MY COLON BECAUSE MY
HEAD'S STUCK UP MY ASS!" He looked between his legs, still screaming in the
"This is ridiculous. Where are the police?" Jack demanded.
If Tim only had a batarang. he'd hit Roy in his pasty Irish ass with the
thing. Assuming Roy survived the overdose, that was. If he lived, Tim was
going to kill him. "Why don't I like. see if I can talk to him?" Dick'd be
pissed if he let his friend die.
"I'M HE-MAN, MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE! KISS MY TIGER!" Roy started smacking
his behind rhythmically.
"Don't go out there. He may be deranged."
"He's probably just drunk, dad," Tim said as he shot out the door before
his father could do anything. Approaching the now-humming hero, Tim shook
his head in disgust. "Roy. Roy. what're you doing out here?"
Roy looked up from between his legs at Tim. He stopped pounding on his bare
backside. "LOOK, IT'S MINI-ROBBIE! GO GET YOUR MASTER, SLAVE! BRING ME THE
REAL ROBBIE! NO OLIO! ONLY BUTTER!"
"Roy, SHUT UP. Does my dad need to know what I do with my nights?" Tim
whispered harshly, just as his father appeared on the front steps. "Just
shut up Roy. Shut up and we'll get you help."
"Get back up here, Tim," Jack Drake instructed firmly.
Tim only gave a passing glance back at his father, but something caught his
eye and made him spin around, then put his arms out in front of him. "Dad,
it's ok. Mr. Harper's going to leave all peaceful and stuff." His dad
didn't flinch. "We don't need the gun." But his father didn't move with the
shotgun. He didn't even know his father OWNED one of those things.
"Daaaad.." Tim decided he was going to wake up very soon. It's what kept
the last few shreds of sanity in place.
Roy stood up and put his pants back on. "DON'T SHOOT MINI-ME! DR. EVIL WILL
Tim really wanted to just step out of the way. It wasn't like Roy really
DESERVED his protection at that point. Sometimes being a good guy sucked.
* * *
Suddenly, the Dark Knight reproached himself for his earlier mental
berating of Nightwing. He should have known it wouldn't be Nightwing. No.
It was Harper. As he looked on from the shadows, he began contemplating
ways to neutralize the situation.
Tim had noticed his presence, and was doing his best to get his father into
his house, but to no avail.
Then Harper, who appeared to be stoned, or withdrawing out of his mind, put
a hand over his heart and began singing the Star Spangled Banner.
At least it would have been, had Harper known all the words. All he did was
keep singing 'Oh, say can you see." over and over, to the tune of the Star
Spangled Banner. At the last line, he tipped backwards and collapsed in the
"Dad, you call an ambulance. I'm going to see if he's ok."
Much to Batman's surprise, Jack Drake actually followed his son's lead. As
soon as Jack had retreated into the house, Batman swooped out of the
shadows, treading only in the already destroyed snow. Tossing Roy Harper
over his shoulder, he vanished.
* * *
Harper woke once he was stationary again in the Batcave. He looked at
Batman with wild eyes, pointing listlessly at the cave roof. "The onions
are worms. Don't eat the onions, because they're WORMS!"
"Um hum." He checked the young man's pulse, which was speeding a hundred
miles an hour. He was going to hit a wall shortly, if Batman didn't do
something. "Harper, what's in your system?" Batman demanded. Christmas Eve
was a hell of a time for someone to relapse into drug use.
"Roy, what drugs are you on?" Batman ground out as he began withdrawing
blood from the young man."
"Just Whitecastle. Don't eat there. The onions are little worms." The young
man frowned. "And pink lemonade. I asked for fruit punch, but it was pink
lemonade. And then. the worms were talking to me." He grabbed onto Batman's
cape. "The worms live with My Little Pony. And they talk."
Batman pulled Harper's hand off of his cape, and let it drop down onto the
medical table. Christmas WASN'T the most pleasant time of year. Couldn't
the boy find some other way to cope? Instead of this. self-annihilation?
* * *
Tim entered the cave an hour later to the sounds of massive barfing. A red-
headed figure was bent over a bucket, his face flushed and his eyes bulging
from the effort of expelling his stomach contents.
"Tim." Batman noted, looking up from whatever concoction he was mixing at
the lab table. It looked like Pepto-Bismol mixed with green play dough.
"I'm going to have a word with Roy," Tim said vehenimantly.
"Leave him alone," Batman ordered. "What's in your coat pocket?" he could
venture a guess, but he'd give the boy the benefit of the doubt.
Tim pulled out a steak knife.
"You can't kill Harper," Batman said patiently.
"I'm not going to kill him," Tim informed his mentor. "I'm going to maim
him." Right in his shining white ass.
"I didn't have time for this tonight," Batman informed his partner mildly.
"I didn't ask for Roy to practically blow my cover. My dad was spastic when
Roy disappeared off the lawn. And I just spent forty-five minutes listening
to him lecture. Apparently I'm a degenerate who's going to end up drugged
out of my mind and screaming on people's lawns when I grow up." The boy
"I didn't have time because I was looking for the Scarecrow."
Tim put the knife back in his pocket then folded his arms over his chest.
"Fear toxin doesn't do that," Tim pointed out.
"Not if inhaled. It seems Mr. Harper drank thirty-two ounces of it with his
"You're making that up." WHY would Batman defend Roy? It was outside the
natural order of things.
Batman tossed him the toxicology report. He gave a long glance toward the
archer. "I'll spare you stomach contents."
Tim looked it over, absolutely stunned. "So Crane is trying to POISON
people now? I mean, why make him drink."
"He was storing it in the syrup bags for the soda fountain." At a
Whitecastle. In Gotham Heights. It was bizarre to say the least. "Oracle
informed me that Batgirl broke his jaw in two places after we'd found out
what Crane had been about. The situation is under control."
Without preamble, Tim let out a short laugh. "We HAVE to tell Dick about
"NOOO!" Came a hoarse moan from across the cave. "Nooo!"
"There's still the matter of YOU. In my TOWN," Batman pointed out.
"Nummy Burgerettes?" Roy asked hopefully. "Then see BC for Christmas. Take
her.. Some." Roy leaned over the bucket and let lose with another dry
Is that what passed for Christmas Eve dinner with that group? He despised
the holiday, but at least they ate actual food. "There will be no mention
of ANY of this to ANYONE," Batman instructed his company. "Consider your
spared egos the ONLY present you will get from me for Christmas."
Tim and Roy gave simultaneous salutes and the pact was sealed.