Chapter Text
Bruce was being a little bitch. As usual.
Jason knew he was destructive sometimes, but Bruce had no place in his business. He may have raised him for a few years, but also was a stubborn, righteous bastard.
Jason had every right to kill the monster that took advantage of those kids.
Nightwing was, surprisingly, the first to give him a tip that he heard about an underground child sex trafficking ring. Jason didn’t ask why Dick had told him, of all people, but there was a growing respect between them now. Dick had slowly began to understand that Jason was never going to change his ideas about criminals, and also that some cases were more his territory than Bruce’s.
Jason knew it had taken years for that respect to grow that much. So Jason had accepted the case with nothing more than a nod and reminder to send the case details to one of his safehouses.
Jason dropped on the creaky couch of one of his safehouses. The night was uneventful, except for the news Nightwing had given him about a new piece of shit running around town. Jason was tired, his eyelids drooping as he laid back onto the couch. He knew he would wake up with a crick in his neck, but couldn’t find himself to care about the morning right now.
He had been up for a little more than 24 hours, mostly because he couldn’t sleep. The night terrors were usually worse around this time of year. Jason knew why, but didn’t want to talk about it. He had already relived his death more times than he could count.
Jason felt himself slip into sleep.
He woke up covered in cold sweat, muscles quaking and eyes horribly red. Another nightmare. Jason shook out the sludge in his body and moved to get the remote on the coffee table. He turned the TV on as a sort of way to drown out his own thoughts.
There he lied, his arm folded over his face to cover his eyes, exhaustion pulling him into sleep but him resisting it because he knew he would only wake up, even more tired. He tried to think of other things: Roy and how he complaining because Lian needed to be potty trained, how Bruce was so emotionally constipated, how Dick gave him that new case.
Wait. The case.
Jason brought his arm to his side as he lifted his upper body up to sit on the couch. He put his hands on his knees to haul himself up, then made his way to his laptop. Jason had already downloaded the information on it, so he had the flash drive in a separate room.
Jason unlocked his laptop and proceeded to study the case further. There were street kids slowly going missing by the accounts of their parents or friends. The most recently known child was a little girl named Inez Rosales. Her brother had claimed that they were walking home late and a group of men with guns had cornered them. The brother, Raul had requested that they take him instead, but apparently they had said they only wanted healthy ones. Jason was confused by that until he saw a picture of Raul. He was in crutches, his left leg seemingly completely paralyzed.
Jason felt a surge of anger go through him. The only reason they didn’t take Raul was because he was partially crippled. They took Inez because she a healthy little girl, unlike her brother, who would’ve willingly taken her place.
Jason swallowed down the vomit that was trying to crawl up his throat, then continued scrolling. He had learned that Raul watched them go south, though they disappeared after a few seconds. Some other accounts had said they found the same license plate parked by a warehouse on 8th and Peter. Jason knew which warehouse they were talking about, but he had raided them a few weeks ago for a different case, and there was no visibly evidence of sex trafficking going on.
Another tip had said a completely different location across town, so Jason presumed they were changing locations weekly to throw the Bats off their trail.
Well, thank god Red Hood wasn’t a Bat.
The Red Hood paid some common villain warehouses some visits, and by the sixth warehouse he had mapped out he still couldn’t find the ring. He sometimes stopped and mulled over if he should be doing this without even knowing the leader behind the ring, but continued to search. Those innocent kids didn’t have time, so he didn’t.
When he got home that night, he looked into recent accounts of witnesses to see the physical features of the leader and his goons. Most had witnessed what looked like goons, but one witness had seen what the leader looked like: brown hair, hazel eyes, a cut grey suit, his limbs long but lean.
It was a typical description of a white man, but the grey suit led Jason to believe the ring leader had money, perhaps due to being a businessman. Jason knew there was plenty of corrupt businessmen in Gotham, so it wasn’t a far stretch. There was another claim from the witness that he had initials sewed onto the grey suit: WE. Wayne Enterprises.
Jason looked into Wayne Enterprises to see who fit that description. Surely enough, five men fit it. He looked into the jobs each of them held. Two held some in the R and D department, and the three others were in the financial departments.
He was eventually able to narrow it down to only two because of their departments and personal reviews from the manager of their personal department. One, named Adam Mulane, fit the physical description perfectly, along with the personality. He was straightforward, hard-headed, secretive, and worked in the financial department where he could be more low key yet have more power in his job. Various co-workers of his made complaints about him being on his phone all the time, or not focusing on his work when he was supposed to.
Another was also in the financial department—John Davis. He fit the physical description, and some of the personality. However, some co-workers described him as shy, rather than secretive.
Jason sighed as he leaned back in his rolling chair. His eyes burned from the blue light, and he hadn’t slept in almost 24 hours. He thought he was on his 22nd, but he had honestly lost track three hours ago. He tried to imagine falling asleep, instead of actually doing it, to trick his brain into thinking he got some amount of sleep. When Jason opened his eyes thirty minutes later, however, his eyelids still felt as heavy as bags of sand.
Jason knew it was a hopeless endeavor to try to trick his own brain, and trudged his way to his bed. It was soft a plushy on his skin. Jason hoped the nightmares would stop for this one night. He needed to sleep.
He woke up with Tim in his room.
The young man was standing proud and tall in his Robin costume, and Jason attempted to quell the upcoming red that began to overcome his vision. He and Tim had come to a silent understanding: don’t fuck with me and I won’t fuck with you.
However, it seemed he was breaking that currently.
“What the fuck are you doing, Replacement.” It was less of a question and more of a demand, although most conversations began like that. Jason clicked on his phone to see it was six in the morning. Why is he-
Tim rolled on the balls of his feet. “Did you start the sex trafficking case yet?” He asked back.
Jason stared at him. Tim kept bouncing his leg, his words quick and unsteady. His costume was disheveled in more ways than one—Jason could faintly see his eyes fluttering behind the white lenses.
“Yeah...”Jason said absentmindedly. His mind couldn’t help but focus on Tim himself. He didn’t know where this sudden concern came from—he was supposed to hate Tim—but the young man seemed to be almost manic. “You good?” He avoided saying his usual nickname at the end.
Tim sighed heavily, and Jason didn’t know why he felt some of the red being replaced with guilt. The boy appeared so defeated, suddenly. “I’m fine,” Tim replied, voice now gritted out.
“Then what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason demanded, though it was a question this time.
Tim seemed to pause. Jason’s brows furrowed. He had seen this same behavior in his stepmom, when she would try to get her greedy hands on a line of coke or invite too many men home. Jason didn’t know other people experienced those things, and it wasn’t just his mom.
“I’m-“
Jason interrupted him when his concern grew to something more dangerous. “Go back to the manor,” he ordered. Tim’s eyes widened. “Talk to Alfred. Somethings wrong and he should be able to help.” Jason had guessed he was dealing with some emotional shit that Alfred would be the best to help at. “I’m taking care of the case, Replacement.”
Tim, surprisingly, left with little resistance. The only other thing he had said was, “Lemme know if you need help!”
Jason scoffed, but a small sliver of relief crawled up his spine. Hopefully Tim would listen.
Jason woke up five hours later, feeling refreshed. He hadn’t remembered much after Tim left, but he assumed he simply went back to sleep. Jason clambered out of bed with relaxed feet and made his way to the kitchen to make a semi-breakfast. It was noon, but he had just woken up and therefore should’ve made breakfast.
He whipped up an omelette, ate at his little dining table (because he refused not to), then began working on the case once again.
Jason’s mind briefly wandered to Tim, but he attempted to shake those thoughts out of his head. He needed to focus on the case at hand. Mulane’s last known sighting was him walking from his car to the twelfth floor of WE. Jason tracked down his entire schedule, then did the same with Davis’. Four hours had suddenly passed before Jason could recall. He looked up from the screen, his eyes bleary and aching, then, before he could think anymore, he picked up one of his burner phones.
There were three rings before somebody answered. “Wayne Manor,” the clipped British voice said over the speaker. Jason could imagine Alfred answering the phone, his suit polished and smart, and felt some sense of nostalgia.
“Hey, Alfie,” Jason responded. He heard a small inhale of breath across the line.
“How may I help you, Master Jason?” The question was careful, but Jason knew it wasn’t because Alfred was afraid of him and simply because he hoped Jason wouldn’t hang up on him again.
Jason felt himself smile. “Tim came over last night,” he explained, his smile beginning to droop. “Made him go back home ‘cause he was actin’ weird.” The unsaid request of how he was doing was hanging between the line.
“He is doing well,” the butler answered warmly. He continued, slightly more cautious. “Master Bruce has made sure he is well taken care of. Master Tim has been acting strangely for a week or so, and will be receiving help.”
Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Thanks, Alf,” he sighed out.
“You are very welcome, Master Jason. I am more than happy you and Tim are beginning to get along on a more personal level,” Alfred said, and Jason snorted because that was so Alfred. So straightforward and un- afraid of talking about the things Jason never wanted to.
There was a short pause, then Jason responded, “I gotta go, but say hi to Repla-Tim for me. Kay?”
“Yes, Jason. It was nice finally hearing from you,” Alfred said. Jason flinched. From that tone of voice, he could tell Alfred was annoyed with him for not calling for so long.
“Same here, Alfie,” Jason murmured out. “See ya’.”
The conversation ended with a click, and Jason felt he could breathe a bit lighter.
The night came, sooner or later, and Jason had just enough information to suit up and investigate other warehouses that they could use to traffic the kids. He had visited a couple of same ones to see if they had rotated, finding nothing, then looked into a couple of new ones.
None held any answers.
Jason didn’t know he was desperate enough to go to Wayne Enterprises, but apparently him showing up told him he was just so. The world around him felt familiar, yet not so. It was busy, straight-laced men and women with too-professional posture that Jason hadn’t seen in almost five years. Jason had hated being around rich people, Bruce excluded, simply because of how pretentious they could be. They never seemed to appreciate the simple things they had around them.
“I have an appointment with Wayne,” Jason stated at the front-desk receptionist.
The woman, Anne it had said on her tag, searched him up and down, briefly keeping her eyes locked onto his dirty leather jacket. Jason wanted to bury within himself, but knew he couldn’t. “Name?” Anne demanded, beginning to type of her computer. Her pink nails clacked against the keyboard obnoxiously.
“Jason Todd,” he replied, his tone flat. The woman stopped typing, then turned her eyes to meet his own for the first time.
“Excuse me-“
“Jus’ tell me which floor he’s on. I forgot.” To be quite honest Jason wanted to stay here and watch as her eyes widened more and more, but he stopped himself from doing so. He had a ring to crack.
“Fif-Fifteenth,” she stuttered out. Jason nodded curtly her way then made his way to the elevator.
Despite his lack of public appearances, it seemed like everyone knew about him. It was like everyone knew about the dead boy, and not the boy. It was painful, to know that. To know people valued yourself dead rather than alive.
Jason shook those dark thoughts out of his head. Not the time.
Bruce was writing something down, his posture sluggish, while he sat behind his vast desk. It was almost looming, but not as looming than when Jason was fourteen-years-old. The older man didn’t stop writing, but Jason could see by the tension in his jaw that he knew of Jason’s presence.
“What?”
“Wow,” Jason dragged out. “Happy to see me, aren’t ya’?” There was no answer, so Jason decided to finally tell Bruce. “I need to see one of your employees. Works in the financial department. Name is Adam Mulane.”
Bruce finally turned his attention towards his son by dropping his pen and looking up at the other man. It simultaneously made Jason see red and feel giddy with having Bruce’s full attention.
“Why?” Bruce asked shortly.
Jason snarled. “He’s a suspect,” he answered, but already regretted saying anything, because Bruce’s face lit up. Jason knew that look. That was Bruce putting on his detective cap. He was studying Jason, interrogating him for a slip to see if he was lying.
Bruce hummed when he noticed no detection of a lie, moving the papers to the side. Jason didn’t hear a reply before Bruce spoke into the speaker on the side of his desk. He requested Adam Mulane to come to his office, and his secretary responded with an affirmation.
The few minutes were awkward between Adam being requested to the office and actually arriving. Bruce hadn’t even bothered attempting conversation, knowing it would only end in bloodied knuckles, and resigned himself to his paperwork once again. Jason sat there, dwindling his thumbs as he tried to recite the first act of Romeo and Juliet from memory.
Adam arrived ten minutes later in a cut black and white suit. As soon as he saw him, Jason knew this was the leader. His whole demeanor screamed a certain power that only master manipulators held, specifically psychopathic manipulators did. The air was heavy. His posture was squared and ready to fight. His eyes were searching and analytical. Jason barely noticed the broken knuckles.
“Mr. Wayne,” Adam had regarded with a nod. His voice was deep, raspy. “And what the was meaning of this impromptu meeting?” He asked. Straightforward and fearless, Jason noted.
Bruce folded his hands, the well-mannered rich boy he needed to be. “This is my colleague, Todd,” Bruce introduced. Adam held a hand out to Jason. Jason took it and didn’t miss a beat when he placed a tracker on the inside of Adam’s wrist. Jason could see a glimmer of hate begin to stir in the other man when he noticed his street-kid-like attire.
“Sir?” Adam asked with a single raised eyebrow.
Bruce made a small noise under his throat, then began, “There has been some minor complaints about your attitude during work hours.” Bruce shuffled some paper, as thought to mimic reciting a complaint. Jason wanted to grin, but thankfully resisted doing so. “An anonymous report had said you called them crude nicknames and have used racial slurs.” Bruce placed the piece of paper back down, writing towards the desk.
Mulane’s eyes twitched. “I was not aware of these claims, Wayne.” His voice was cool. “I would like an investigation.”
There it was. The whiney, conceited part of rich people. They thought they could have anything twisted to their way.
Bruce pursed his lips, then duly nodded. “I understand, Mr. Mulane. However, while the investigation begins I ask you refrain from using further crude language.”
Adam stopped. “Very well, Wayne,” he gritted out, then said, “Are we finished?”
Bruce nodded once, then Adam was gone with a click of the door.
Jason got up himself, then nodded to his dad. “Thanks,” he muttered.
Bruce’s lips seemed to lift a bit, and Jason almost thought he was hallucinating because Bruce never smiled at him. “I trust your judgment,” Bruce admitted. Jason’s heart leaped at the small ray of praise. “Call me if you need-“
“Help. Yeah. Get it,” Jason interrupted. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to avoid doing something stupid, like trying to hug Bruce, then left the office with a lack of goodbye.
Jason sat at his laptop, tracking Adam’s movement from the past twelve hours. He had moved from work five hours ago to his house. It was two hours ago that he moved from his penthouse to an abandoned building on Sixth and Davidson.
The Red Hood suited up, gun holsters strapped to his legs and various other weapons tucked safely in a duffle bag. He was off on his motorcycle in less than five minutes.
He arrived at the abandoned building less than ten minutes later, the duffle bag being moved to his shoulder. Jason grappled to the top of the building, the walls creaking a scratching just enough, and was able to find an entrance from the roof.
Jason dropped the duffle bag onto the ground with a distinct flop, then began searching through it for a simple bomb. It was the same model he used in Russia. The type of bomb had been so engrained in his memory that it’s what he usually built.
He tucked the bomb in the inside pocket of his jacket, then, with one gun in his right hand, broke down the roof entrance door. The cracking of the wood was absolutely beautiful to Jason’s ears. He heard shuffling up the stairs, then raised his gun. Goons.
Two brutes stopped when they saw him, visibly panicked, then attempted to run back down the stairs to warn the others. Jason rolled his eyes, then promptly shot them both in their kneecaps. Jason shoved their faced in the concrete before they could scream through the pain.
Two minutes later they passed out, and Jason continued rushing down the stairs with silent feet. He held his gun back up when he heard some talking when he reached the second floor. One man, one woman. They were talking about locations. Jason listened in for any thing important, then charged in. The two goons were unprepared, but fought back with what little force they could.
“Fuck!” One of them screamed when Jason elbowed them in the solar plexus.
Jason wrangled his hands on the woman’s throat, then sensed he was about to be hit. He shoved the woman around so she took the hit, and it was a second later that she punched in the nose. Blood began spluttering from her nostrils.
The man lowered his fists nervously when he saw the deadly posture in the Red Hood. It was a minute later that the woman passed out, falling onto the floor uselessly, and Jason shoved the man towards the nearest wall.
“Where’s your boss?” Jason demanded.
The man shook his head stubbornly. “I’ll be dead if I tell you.”
Jason chuckled, the sound dark and raspy. It made the goon shiver in fear. “You’ll be dead either way,” Jason told him.
The goon thought for a moment, hands quivering and eyes wide. He let out a long breath, seemingly disappointed in himself. “First floor, in his office in the corner,” he answered.
Jason shoved his body against the wall. The man slowly inched down onto his knees, legs weak from the tremors. Jason pointed the tip of his gun to his forehead, and when the man felt the cool metal against his skin he began begging. Red Hood silenced him with a dark chuckle, then knocked him out with the butt of his gun.
Jason rushed down another set of stairs, then knew he had hit the jackpot. There was tens of children stuck in cages and made completely silent by the patrolling guards.
Jason didn’t hesitate when he aimed at their feet and shot every single one of them. He hoped they bled out. Hoped they died.
Old habits never change, he supposed.
There was a slamming of a door being broken open, then Mulane was there, shocked look on his aristocratic features. Jason wanted to shoot that stupid face.
When he finished with all the guards, he aimed the gun in Adam’s direction.
After that, it was a blur. He saw a familiar form falling from the rafters, rushing to free the dozens of kids from the cages and hurriedly ordering they wait outside. Jason wanted to stop himself from killing Mulane and impress Bruce for once, but there was also the green whispering in the back of his mind to kill. Kill with no mercy, it had said, no remorse in its voice.
Mulane was running up the stairs, and Jason immediately knew what he was going to do: go the rooftop and kill himself. Face no consequences and take all his winnings to the grace with no remorse.
Jason ran faster, his legs sore but he didn’t care. The rooftop door was opened once again, then Jason was just fast enough to tackle Mulane into the concrete of the roof.
“Let me go!” The man screamed. Jason snarled, the sound audible with the helmet on. Mulane’s hands were trembling. Good. He was scared. He should be.
Jason reached into the inside pocket, where the bomb was, and stuck it to Mulane’s throat. The bomb was activated with a small beep. The man struggled even more, beginning to panic since he wasn’t able to die by his own terms.
“You fucked up, Mulane,” Jason whispered in his ear. He had forty seconds left. “You fucked up those kids. So you deserve to be fucked up.”
It honestly wasn’t Jason’s best revenge speech, but it was decent in his book. Plus, what mattered most was getting justice for those kids.
Mulane struggled and screamed for a few more seconds, his feral tone only angering Hood further. “Batman wouldn’t kill, but I do,” Jason gritted out, then dragged Mulane back inside the building then locked the rooftop door. There was banging from the other side, but Jason ignored it.
Twenty seconds.
Jason leapt onto the adjacent rooftop, then managed to get back into the ground. He rushed to his motorcycle, then began riding back to his nearest safehouse.
He heard the explosion of the entire building behind him, but drowned that out with the sound of the rumbling motorcycle.
It didn’t feel like much of a victory when dozens of kids were still emotionally damaged by what they had endured under Mulane. He invited Bruce at his safehouse on a stupid impulse to make sure the kids would be a position where they wouldn’t be taken advantage of again. Jason needed to make sure. It was slowly eating him up from the inside, not knowing what would happen to them. He couldn’t let them be carted off to a shitty orphanage. Maybe he would be able to convince Bruce to adopt all of them.
Jason honestly didn’t know why he bothered trying to talk to Bruce after a case.
“We do not kill!” Bruce growled. “We are not better than the League if we do so.” That hit hard, considering how much they fucked up Jason.
“Stop being a lil’ bitch! He fucked those kids up. I wasn’ gonna let him out alive,” Jason yelled back. Bruce’s jaw clenched, and Jason knew that was the exact moment that the man turned off his emotions. His mind went blank and there was no convincing him.
“We don’t kill, Jason,” Bruce repeated harshly.
Jason crossed his arms stubbornly. “Jus’ tell me what’s gonna happen to those kids.”
Bruce broke his glare and rubbed a rough hand over his face. He finally answered, “They’ll be provided shelter through the Martha Wayne foundation.”
Jason nodded once, feeling a strong sense of relief. “Thanks...” he whispered. He had rarely ever said it, but his stubborn pride didn’t trump the safety of innocent children.
Bruce nodded.
There was an awkward silence for a full minute.
“Jason-“
“Get the fuck out.”
“Jay-“
“What the fuck did I just say?”
Bruce heavily sighed, then listened to his son’s order.
Just before Bruce exited through the the front door, he turned around and began, “We need to continue this talk at the manor-“
Bruce abruptly closed the door behind him when he saw Jason’s boot being hurled his way.