Chapter Text
Jason Todd didn’t hate Batman. Naw. In fact, Jason respected, dare he say even admired, Batman. What he hated was Batman’s morals, or rather him forcing his morals on everyone else.
For example, Batman never killed. Okay, fine. Everyone in their line of work needs a clear line in the sand, something that they refused to cross no matter the circumstances. Without it, it would be so easy to go from loved defender of the people to feared overlord. Hell, there were other dimensions where just such a thing had happened. No. Boundaries and morals were not what Jason had a problem with. It was when Batman decided that his morals applied to everyone else that he took issue.
Last week, Jason shot a criminal in the head. The guy had a little girl at gunpoint and was more than willing to blow her brains out. So Jason shot first. No big loss, right? The life of one scumbag versus that of an innocent child. In Jason’s mind, it shouldn’t even be a competition. Then Batman descended from the sky like the goddamn reaper and beat Jason’s ass all the while telling him how he thought Jason had been doing better and he should’ve found another way and blah, blah, blah.
After a good ten minutes of fighting, Jason managed to give Batman the slip and slink off to lick his wounds. Of course, Golden Boy showed up at his safehouse not long after to give him another fucking lecture about becoming the evil they fought or something like that. Jason didn’t know exactly what the sermon was about since he had tuned Dick out after, “Jason, we need to talk.”
Jason still got the gist of it though: killing bad. Never mind the fact that judges sentence people to death or that police sometimes kill to protect others. Oh, wait. Jason forgot that superheroes had basically made police obsolete. His bad.
Nowadays every major city on the planet had some meta or alien (or furry) claiming to be the face of justice. Cops were basically just there to sit in their patrol cars eating donuts. Or at least people would like to believe. ‘Cause the alternative was actually kind of depressing. Jason however knew that the most depressing answer was usually the correct one. Those on the Gotham police force tended to not live very long, especially if they were clean. The good die young, or so he’d been told.
From his experience though, the bad guys were just as likely to end up with a bullet in the brain as a good guy.
Jason inhaled a lungful of nicotine before exhaling a wisp of smoke slowly. At least with how things seemed to be going for heroes lately, he wouldn’t have to worry about dying of lung cancer.
Fuck he missed Roy.
Hanging out with the Outlaws had been the best time of Jason’s life. He hadn’t known it then but having someone you trust wholly to have your back makes a huge difference. Sure, Jason now had the Bats (sometimes), but he usually ran solo. He just didn’t trust them like he had Roy and Kori.
With the Bats, Jason was always one mistake away from Arkham, and they made sure he knew it.
Honestly, after the stunt last week, Jason was sure he would end up behind bars. It was a fucking miracle that someone (read: Alfred) had managed to talk Bruce down. It wasn’t like Jason didn’t have a reason, it was just that Bruce didn’t want to accept it. In the heat of the moment, Jason honestly saw no alternative. Try as he might, he wasn’t as good at magicking solutions out of his ass as the other Bats were.
Speaking of Bats…
“Oracle to Red Hood, do you copy Red Hood?”
Jason tapped the comm. “This is Red Hood, I copy. What’s up, Oracle?”
“Robin’s got himself into trouble with some of Penguin’s men,” Barbara’s said. She sounded exasperated, not that Jason blamed her. Dealing with the little shit’s shit was pretty exhausting. “We need someone to retrieve him, and you’re the closest.”
Jason sighed. This wasn’t going to be fun. “Send me coords.”
Oracle rattled off a set of coordinates for a nearby warehouse on a dock. Of course. Because all the villains liked to hang out in warehouses. Someone should just fucking burn them all already. That would fix like eighty percent of the crime in Gotham. Actually, never mind. Criminals were like cockroaches. Just ‘cause you chased them out of one place doesn’t mean they won’t show up somewhere else. The only way to rid yourself completely is to step on them or burn the house to the ground.
Batman though would disagree. He believes you can stick them in a jail cell with bars wide enough to slip through and that they’ll just stay here like the good little pests they are. Yeah right.
Jason shook away the thought. Not the time. He could contemplate the flaws in Batman’s philosophy later. Right now, he had a Robin to save. “I’m on my way. ETA, seven minutes.”
Jason pulled himself back over the side of the building where he had been sitting and pushed himself to his feet. He took one last drag of the cigarette before dropping it and crushing it with the heel of one of his combat boots. He then walked back to the ledge and grabbed his helmet from where he had left it. He snapped it back into place before stepping out onto air.
The wind whipped through his clothing as he free-fell before he shot his grapple in a smooth motion and halted his descent. Jason clicked a button retracting his grapple before going to his cycle he had left hidden in a nearby alley.
Jason arrived at the warehouse a minute early. He had known that the drive would only take a few minutes, but he had learned the hard way that when it came to Bats, it was better to overestimate his ETA rather than under.
Six minutes later, he found himself fighting over a dozen tuxedo-wearing henchmen right alongside his so-called younger brother. At the beginning, things were going pretty well. Punch a guy, shoot a knee, rinse, repeat. But of course, as with most times Jason dealt with the Bats, things took a turn somewhere along the way.
Jason still couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that he found himself pinned behind a pile of shipping crates with Robin while an especially trigger happy goon shot at them with a Tommy gun while cackling like a villain from an old TV show.
Jason flinched as a bullet came especially close to clipping his shoulder. He glanced over towards Robin to make sure the kid was alright, only to find himself on the receiving end of a death glare.
“So,” Jason yelled over the gunfire, “why’d you run off?”
No response. Not that Jason was expecting Damien to tell him all about his daddy issues. The day a Bat actually talked through their problems was the day pigs fly and Lex Luthor grows hair. In other words, never going to happen.
Damien opened his mouth to say something, probably cuss Jason out, but was cut off as the goon’s gun jammed. “Hold that thought,” Jason said sweetly as he pulled out his modified pistols. He quickly rolled out from behind the crate and aimed one of his pistols at the henchmen. He squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet into the man’s hand who dropped the gun with a curse. Before the man could react, Jason charged him, jumping up so that his knee met the man’s face, knocking him out with a squelch of blood and broken cartilage. As soon as he was sure the man was down, Jason turned towards his so-called younger brother. “You were saying?”
Robin sputtered like an angry cat for a moment before hissing, “I did not need your help, Hood.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. That’s why when I arrived you were about to meet the business end of a gun. Oh, wait. My bad. That was all part of your brilliant plan to dismember them forty different ways with a rusty spoon, am I right?”
Robin actually growled at him, like a fucking dog. And they called him rabid.
Jason was about to make another wiseass remark when a glint of metal caught his eye. He walked towards the object cautiously, tuning out Robin’s angry rant about him being inferior and how yes, he did have a plan, but Jason wrecked it, and yadda, yadda. Typical Bat shit.
Jason furrowed his brow. He started removing debris from the object as Robin finished his rant with a furious, “Do you hear me, Hood?”
“Yeah, Yeah,” Jason shot back as he brushed away bits of broken crate. “I was a mistake, I should have let you done your thing, I almost got you killed. Did I miss anything?”
Robin didn’t reply other than an indignant tut. Jason shoved off a final piece of wood fully revealing the object beneath. His eyes widened as he realized just what he was looking at.
“Oh shit! We’ve got a bomb!”
Jason barely gave Robin time to squeak out a confused “What?” before he scooped up the demon child under an arm and made a break for the door. Once Jason’s words finally registered, Robin started kicking frantically at Jason and trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Let go, Todd!” He yelled. “We must go back for the criminals.”
“Fuck that!” Jason snapped back without slowing down. “I’m not dying in an exploding warehouse again, and neither are you!”
Jason had barely got them clear of the warehouse when he felt an explosion of heat against his back. With a strangled yelp, he and Robin were flung to the ground by the shockwave like a couple of ragdolls. The two of them rolled across the concrete before coming to a stop several yards later.
“Fuck!” Jason spat, his ears ringing from the blast so loudly he could barely hear himself. He turned towards where Robin had been thrown. “You alive, pipsqueak?”
Jason couldn’t hear a reply over the roaring in his ears, but at least saw the small figure move, so they were both alive at least. The same couldn’t be said for the henchmen though. A painful glance over his shoulder confirmed that what remained of the warehouse was ablaze. Chances of someone surviving that was slim to none.
Jason was pulled out of his thoughts by a kick to his side. With a hiss, he looked up at the enraged preteen towering above him. Robin was yelling something at him, but Jason still couldn’t make out the words. Though, what he could glean from lipreading didn’t paint a good picture.
“… Dare you… Dead… Your fault. I was… Tell Father.”
With his rant done, Robin stormed off leaving Jason alone in the dirt next to the burning warehouse.
Great.
The fallout from this train wreck was going to be spectacular.
“I am disappointed in you Jason.”
Jason jerked towards the voice, a clean T-shirt halfway over his head. With an irritated groan, he finished pulling on the shirt before turning to face the music. “So, you’re just going to blame me without hearing my piece, huh Bruce? Favorites much?”
“This is not about favorites,” Bruce growled. Well, at least he didn’t try to deny it like usual. Hell, Replacement would even back Jason up on this: Bruce played favorites, and it was pretty obvious that Jason wasn’t one. “This is about you leaving over a dozen men in a warehouse to die.”
Ah. Right. Jason exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his face. “It’s not that simple. The bomb had a timer. I didn’t have enough time to try and defuse it or try to get everyone out. I made the best choice that I could under the circumstances.”
“There is always another choice.”
Jason snorted angrily. “Yeah? Well this time there wasn’t. I don’t know what the brat told you, but there was no other choice.” Jason shoved past Bruce and exited the small bathroom into the Cave. “It was either die trying to save a bunch of criminals or save Damien. And even if he is a little demon, I wasn’t about to let another child die a fiery death for you, Bruce.”
“There is always another choice,” Bruce repeated firmly. He followed Jason towards the center of the Cave overlooking the glass cases.
Jason examined the cases, each one containing a different costume. He recognized most, but there were a couple he didn’t. The one thing he did notice was that everyone except him had a case. There wasn’t one for his Red Hood gear. Instead, off to the side away from the main display, stood a small case containing his torn Robin suit with the damned plaque.
Jason tried not to think too much about what that implied.
“I didn’t kill them,” Jason said finally. “I didn’t kill them. I followed your rules. Someone else planted the bomb.”
“But you didn’t try to save them,” Bruce growled.
Jason threw his arms in the air. “For fuck’s sake! I’m not having this conversation right now. I’d rather just enjoy the fact that I didn’t die in an exploding warehouse for the second time if you don’t mind.”
Bruce flinched at the words. Finally. The first fucking emotion he had shown throughout this whole fiasco. Jason was starting to wonder if he had been replaced with a robot. Too bad it was over a kid who had died years ago and not over the fact he had nearly died again. Actually, why wasn’t Bruce more upset that his blood kid had nearly bit it? Jason understood why Bruce wasn’t especially torn up about him, but shouldn’t Bruce be a little more worried about the brat?
Whatever. It wasn’t his problem.
Ignoring Bruce further, Jason started for the stairs leading towards the Manor. Since he was forced to deal with a bunch of bullshit, he at least deserved one of Alfred’s cookies for his effort. He stomped his way up the stairs, not caring that he was acting childish. At this point, he was well beyond caring what anyone here thought of him. No matter what he did, it wasn’t going to be good enough anyways, so why try at all?
He made a beeline directly for the main kitchen, trying to ignore everything around him as he went. A lot of his best memories were centered here, but the Manor was only for good little Bats, and Jason definitely was not one anymore.
In the kitchen, Jason was about to try and find the cookie jar when he noticed two fresh chocolate chip cookies sitting on a plate on the counter. He glanced around but didn’t see anyone else. With a soft grin he took the cookies and shouted a quick, “Thanks, Alfie!” before turning and leaving the kitchen with his prizes. He bit into one with a soft moan. Hell yes. Alfred’s cookies were the best!
He was headed for the garage where he had parked his motorcycle when he suddenly came face-to-face with an irate demon child.
“Todd,” The demon hissed.
“Demon,” Jason greeted coolly. He glanced up as two more figures came around the corner. Great. Jason put on a fake smile and said cheerfully, “Hey, the gang’s all here.”
Dick hesitated at Jason’s obvious distaste, while Tim took it in stride and even had the gall to look bored.
“Hey Little Wing,” Dick said cautiously as though he was talking to a wild animal ready to pounce. He planted a firm hand on Damien’s shoulder and tried to pull him away. “Come on, Dami. Let’s go finish that school project you’ve got.”
Damien rolled his shoulder viciously in a futile attempt to knock Dick’s hand off. “No,” He snapped. “It was Todd’s fault this happened. He is a criminal. Father should throw him in Arkham where he belongs.”
“Dami,” Dick warned lowly.
Jason shrugged. This wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. In fact, Jason was pretty sure this very point was brought up several times in the past day alone. “Arkham is for the insane, kid.”
“Then you would fit in perfectly,” Damien spat. “I have seen the pit at work, Todd. You may have control now, but you won’t forever. You should be locked up.”
Wow. Okay, ouch. Going right for his insecurities there. Jason quickly adjusted his body language to read casual to hide how much that stung. He wasn’t giving the brat any gratification. “Not today, Satan. Now if you don’t mind, I have places to be and things to do that don’t involve you.”
Jason pushed past them, making sure to elbow Dick as he went. He was almost down the hall when he heard Damien call out, “You don’t belong here, Todd.”
Jason froze.
“Damien!” Dick exclaimed, appalled. “That wasn’t nice! Apologize!”
Jason whirled around and cut in before Damien could comply. “I know it wasn’t nice, but is it true? Is that actually what you think?” Dick and Tim tensed, telling Jason all he needed to know. A pained laugh tore its way from his throat. “Well, at least now I know where I stand. I was getting sick of this whole, ‘You’re a part of the family, Jason’ bullshit. None of you ever act like it unless is suits you. Well, whatever. I’ll see you later.”
Jason turned and walked swiftly towards the garage where he put on his biking helmet and powered up his cycle. He was just about to leave when Dick came bursting from the door with a loud, “Jason, wait!”
Jason gave him the finger and tore out of the garage with a squeal of tires. Fuck them. He was so tired of this song and dance. Hope, betrayal, repeat. It was a never ending cycle of disappointment, and Jason was getting sick of it. If this was what family was, he wanted none of it.
Jason tried to push down the swell of emotions and just enjoy the feeling of the wind tearing through his hair, but he always came back to that point. Family. Was what he had really a family? When he was kid living with Willis and Catherine, he had thought that that was family. But then he went to live with Bruce at the Manor and suddenly it wasn't. Jason’s memories before his death were fuzzy, but he vaguely got the sense that something was different this time around.
Jason knew the rest of the Bats treated him differently. He saw the way they interacted when he wasn’t there. Hell, Bruce sometimes even acted like he was a good father! Just the other day, Bruce took Damien to the zoo and then took Tim and Dick out for lunch. Jason couldn’t remember the last time Bruce had done something with him that wasn’t work related. Even Tim and Dick treated him differently. They always acted like they were walking on eggshells around him, like he was timebomb ready to explode. It was obvious they didn’t trust him. And sure, he had tried to kill both of them at least once, but he had been certifiably insane at the time.
That seemed to be something they just couldn’t grasp. The pit had really done a number on Jason. Of course, it’s okay when Damien tried to kill them, or if someone else got whammied and tried to off them. But when Jason lost control, he was suddenly the devil incarnate. The double standards made his head spin.
This couldn’t be family. Jason felt like Catherine was closer to family than the Bats. At least then she had tried, and there were sober moments where she made it clear she cared for Jason. With the Bats, Jason never knew where he stood.
Maybe… maybe it was time to leave. This environment was obviously not good for Jason. He cared for the Bats, but he wasn’t sure they cared about him. Jason didn’t want to constantly be guessing. Being alone would be better than this.
As he rode, the thought firmly planted itself in his mind. As he played with the idea, a new resolve begun to grow.
Yeah. He wasn’t happy here. The Bats didn’t care for him. So why should he stay? By staying, all he was doing was making everyone suffer. He wasn’t happy, they weren’t happy. Time to move on.
But the idea of finding another city was daunting. There was a cape in nearly every city out there, and at least in Gotham, Jason had a fragile truce with the Bats. If he went somewhere else, there was no guarantee that a hero wouldn’t lock him in prison and throw away the key the moment he showed up.
Plus, the Bats had a hard time letting anything go. They would see him leaving as spitting in the face of justice or some crap and would try to track him down. The moment he tried to settle down somewhere, they would descend upon him like vultures and drag him back to Gotham kicking and screaming.
Never mind the fact that they didn’t actually want him.
He could try settling down in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. But they would eventually find him. As good as Jason was at forging paperwork, Oracle was better at sniffing it out.
That left Jason’s only option as to keep moving. If he were constantly on the move, the Bats could probably still track him down, but it would take a lot of time and effort. Two things that Gotham rarely allowed for them to have. If he jumped from place to place, there was a good chance that the others would just decide he wasn’t worth the hassle.
It wasn’t uncommon for Jason to go off the grid, so he could probably buy himself a few weeks before anyone even knew he was missing. And he had enough money from his drug lord days to last him a few years if he rationed.
Yeah. That could actually work.
Now the only question was, how should he do this? Should he just take his cycle and travel the country, staying in crappy motels and hotels? Or… Hmm. Not a bad idea.
By the time Jason reached his safehouse, he had the framework of a plan. He was going to do this. He was going to leave Gotham for good.