"Bleeding, bleeding little human, how I wonder how you taste! Up above the world so high, like a de–"

"Would you just shut up already?" The super food snapped, storming up to the cell that they had put Crimson in, heavily enchanted so he was unable to use his powers. "Even Dick wasn't this annoying when we first got him, and he was eight."

Crimson simply smirked, sticking out his tongue and continuing to sing. "Like a dead bat in the sky. Bleeding, bleeding little human, how I wonder how you taste!"

"Can I knock him out Bruce?"

The bat dude, Bruce, shook his head, walking to stand next to the other hero. "You just need to have patience, Damian. Try to remember that Dick's in there... somewhere. Harming the demon will only hurt Dick."

"Baa, baa, black bat, have you any wings? Imma rip 'em off until they bleed~" Crimson sang louder, smacking his head back against the wall.

So, they did not want to hurt his body?

Too bad... he could hurt it just fine without them.

Blood was dripping down his face by the time the Bat-food decided to put him in a straightjacket and chain him far away from the walls.

The food had left him alone for a while, something that Crimson found particularly amusing. For people so seemingly intent on saving his host, they were doing a horrible job of actually trying to save the little bird.

Crimson could feel the boy fading away more and more by the day.

Not that he cared.

No, he was ready to be done with his host. The boy's body had grown increasingly feeble, and with the enchantments on the cell, Crimson was actually struggling to maintain the boy's life. His power had been what was keeping the bird alive for so long, because he was building up power to create his own solid form.

Now all that stored power was going to waste, and his host was dying.

It did not matter really though... all Crimson needed to do was wait for the right moment. He was sure he could convince one of the Bat-food to enter his cell alone and killing one would provide enough power for him to escape.

All he needed to do was wait.

If he was annoying enough, the food would eventually come.

"Batsy had a little bird, little bird, little bird. Batsy had a little bird, its skin was soaked in blood. And everywhere that Batsy went, Batsy went, Batsy went, and everywhere that Batsy went, the bird was sure to die. The birdie followed him to work one day, work one day, work one day, the birdie followed him to work one day, which led to a broken skull. Now there is no birdie here, birdie here, birdie here, now there is no birdie here, a demon ate his soul."

Damian's fist slammed onto the desk, a mug toppling off and shattering on the floor.

"Damian, that's the fifth one this week. It's only Tuesday." Bruce chided, stepping around the shards with a sigh. "What's wrong?"

"He's singing again. The same thing. Over and over again." Damian gritted out, narrowing his eyes at the screen, watching as the body of his younger brother rocked back and forth, lips twisted into a sick grin as he sang his demented nursery rhymes. "What if the demon's right? What if Dick really is gone?"

"He's not gone. We saw him regain control during the fight, remember?"

"Yeah, but... but then he lost control again and the demon nearly killed Tim. That thing killed Superman. Superman, Bruce."

Bruce sighed, shaking his head, his own eyes trained on the screen, normally stoic expression slipping into one of tired sadness. "We revived him. You know that."

"Sure, but he still killed him. Superman is the strongest fighter in the Justice League. If that thing can take him down like that... well... we need to plan what to do if Zatara can't bring Dick back." Damian turned away, hiding his own saddened expression. As much as he practiced tough love with his younger brothers, he truly did care. To watch his baby brother so clearly hurting, so clearly broken, hurt. It hurt a lot.

"Not yet. Zatara has to fail to bring him back first."

"Right..."

The two fell into silence as they continued to watch the screen, chills racing down both their spines as Crimson turned his head to glare up at the camera, red eyes glowing brightly in the darkness of his cell, an eerie laugh echoing through the speakers.

Bruce turned the computer off.

"Should we send Tim down? If Dick's still in there, it might help to see that he's okay." Damian turned, to look at his father with a sigh, noting the bags under the older male's eyes, tired marks that were probably mirrored on his own face.

"I'll ask. He's still recovering though. If Dick hadn't held the demon off... it would not have ended well." Bruce gave Damian a reassuring smile, although both knew better than to believe it. "Just make sure to clean up the mug. The last thing we need is someone stepping on it."

"I'm fine, Bruce, Damian. Seriously. You two just... wait out here or whatever." Tim insisted, narrowing his eyes at his father and older brother. "We all know I'm the least likely to get riled up, and he can't escape the cell. It'll be alright."

"Fine. But if it even seems like things are going badly, we're coming in." Bruce said, crossing his arms over his chest. Damian copied the action, and Tim could not help but snort out a laugh.

"You two seriously are too similar. Seriously. Just chill. It'll be fine."

With a small wave, Tim limped away from the two brooding family members, doing his best to straighten his shoulders and hide his limp. He had made sure to style his hair like normal and wear long sleeves to cover his bandages, figuring that the less injured he looked, the more reassured Dick would be.

If Dick was even still in there.

He shook his head to rid himself of the negative thoughts, forcing a smile onto his lips as he approached the cell. The eerie singing stopped when the demon saw Tim, glowing red eyes fixed intently on the visitor.

"You're not dead... disappointing."

"So... you prefer to go by Crimson?" Tim asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant and to ignore the demon's words as he lowered himself to the ground a few feet away from the bars.

"The food started calling me that... I have grown fond of it."

Forcing a laugh, Tim nodded. "Right... okay. So, Crimson, can I speak with Dick?"

"Awe~ You mean you still believe that he's around? The boy wasted his last energy on protecting you. A pity, really. I do so enjoy this body." Crimson smirked, tongue flicking out over his lips as he eyed Tim hungrily. "Although I wouldn't mind taking yours..."

"No thanks. I'm good without the demonic possession." Tim's mind was running a thousand miles a second as he mulled over the demon's words. Was Dick truly gone? He could not be, right? He had seemed weak when he appeared, but still... he could not be that weak yet, right? "You would not be able to still possess him if he was dead."

Please let that be true.

Crimson snickered, shifting forward, the chains around his wrists and ankles clanking ominously. "You really do know nothing, human. You will never get the boy back, and soon you will be too. Soon you will all be gone."

Tim fought back a grin. "You did not directly deny it. He is in there somewhere, isn't he?"

"The boy is as good as dead. He is never coming back."

"As good as dead. Meaning that he is not dead yet. Dick is still in there. He might be weak, he might be suffering, but he's alive. And he's strong." Tim insisted, standing carefully, his eyes burning with passion. "Mark my words, demon. You messed with the wrong family when you took him. That boy has the protection of an entire League of heroes who will not rest until he is free. You have lost. It's just a matter of time."

Snickers turned into full cackling laughter as Crimson tossed his head back, clearly thoroughly amused. "Time is what he does not have. Each moment you wait, the boy fades even further. You will not save him in time."

"Yes. We will." Turning on his heel, Tim left the cell behind, ignoring the demon cackling behind him. His expression was grim as he reunited with the others. 

"He's alive. But we're running out of time."