The sound that came out of Tim could only be described as an ugly and raucous laugh.

His fingers ran through his hair in disbelief. Before he tugged, lips twisting into a grimace of pain as he made sure that this wasn't all a dream.

Spurned by his arrogance and the grief-turned-insanity of losing his best friend, Tim had dared to play God. He tried to bring Conner back into his life, but every attempt had failed. And as the count mockingly ticked to ninety-nine, the problem had become clear to him.

The solution?

The scientist had to refer back to the basics. If he couldn’t bring someone back, then perhaps he could just work backward and go from there.

Sitting on the table was Tim’s greatest and yet worst accomplishment — Sewed together from different parts from various cadavers. His blasphemous masterpiece could only blankly stare at him in confusion. Every aspect was hand-picked and curated in his own design.

“Hello,” he breathed out before striding over quickly, nearly tripping over his own two feet in excitement. He had done it. “Do you understand me? My name is Tim. Tim Drake. I’m your creator.”

His gloved hands shakily reached out, cupping either side of his creation’s face, turning and inspecting his work with tender scrutiny. He felt the thumps of a frantic heartbeat underneath his fingertips, and his grip only tightened in awe.

Perfection.

He’s known as a genius after all, and his work is mere proof that he’s one step closer to having Conner by his side again.

“I gave you life,” he explained as if he were talking to a mere child. All before his voice lowered into the soft words of a thinly veiled threat. “And I can take it away just as easily. Remember this.”

He’s not sure what to do with his unexpected magnum opus yet. But one thing is for certain — Tim is their entire world, and he can do whatever he wants with their existence as he pleases.

Friend, companion, or research assistant even. There’s an endless amount of possibilities.

But first, perhaps a name was in order?