Chapter Text
The stench of Gotham’s slums was unfathomable, much so to an emerged street rat who’d only begun scurrying the city’s alleyways not too long ago. The boy was scrawny, standing at a mere stature of 4”11, dirt imbedded in his skin.
He had been called many things in his short life, only rarely something human. A sickly poverty-ridden, petty thief was a whole other species to the citizens of Gotham living in their oh-so-extravagant shabby two-bedroom apartments. In result, he had adopted many names; from a rat to a dog, a pig, a stray, scum, bastard, all of it.
Jason knew he’d always be considered lesser than to society, finding himself left with a deep-seated feeling of uncertainty towards his own mother who had sold their safety in order to feed her addiction, leading to his current conditions.
Coming from a less than ideal home, it was difficult. His mother was a junkie, someone who had initially begun using her body as a means to make ends meet, only to eventually splurge her earnings on her own selfish desires once the drugs took control of her. She wore a layer of vulnerability over her usual nakedness, unable to keep her occupation hidden from her son. She was careless in that regard anyway, her sounds of infidelity being rather noisy through their thin walls.
Jason’s father, being one of the most ill-reputed amongst Gotham city, was by no means an improvement from his mother. The man was no more than a lackey for the powerful, a pawn who had taken the fall for his previous employer, and thus found himself behind bars. He was dead to Jason. Not only in a metaphorical sense, but a literal one, since the boy had no knowledge of his father’s imprisonment.
As his mother came home with the same pricks time after time, his ears would pick up on the spouted degradation and his nose would detect the pungent smell of sweat and alcohol. The boy naturally became somewhat desensitized toward his environment, forced to learn of the unpleasantries which life held first-hand.
The years went by, the screams and fights got louder, and the men from the curb more reckless and dangerous.
It had been a peaceful day in autumn, unlike any other. The atmosphere was unusually calm, a suffocating silence that seemed to take the place of the usual vulgarity. The oddity of it all had set Jason's nerves on edge. His senses were screaming that something was wrong, that there was this indescribable tension in the air.
He slowly lifts off his bedroom floor, soon finding himself warily creeping toward the end of the hall, to his mother’s door. A scowl donned his expression. A voice compelled him to probe, a feeling of apprehension sweeping over him as he sets foot onto the grimy carpet below, faint creaks following each of his footsteps from the rot hidden beneath. Those floorboards held no structural stability whatsoever.
His eyes widen. When he caught a glimpse of a man looming over his mother’s seemingly lifeless body through that slim keyhole, not a single thought or moment of hesitation passed as instinct took over.
By the time he had regained control, his hands were already stained red, and his mother’s desperate pleads were suddenly much louder than a rung-out static. He was shaky, the adrenaline still rushing through even after the fact. He huffs out raggedly. He weighs his options.
His gaze remained fixed ahead as an overwhelming emptiness seemed to engulf him. His grip slowly loosened as his shoulders slumped, his body sinking. He stumbled to his feet and exited from the room, taking his bag with him on the way out. He didn't cast a hint of a glance toward his mother, even as her low whimpers echoed through the space between them.
Jason had made up his mind, there was nothing left for him there. He decided that he needed to get far away from Catherine.
He swallowed down any lingering doubt or guilt and left. That would be the last time he ever saw her.
The dim glow of the streetlights above offered Jason the tiniest ounce of warmth as he shuffles against his soggy, damp, makeshift cardboard shelter, trying to ward off the cold as much as possible. It had been raining earlier, so a thick moisture was still present in the air, making it a real challenge to properly breathe when wedged in such a narrow cavity. Nothing he couldn't handle, Jason figured.
He lifts his shirt’s hem and pulls it over his nose, resting his head between the tight gap of his limbs. He hugged himself to stay warm as his face remains pressed to his knees, trying to curl up into a small ball and retain as much heat as possible.
Despite his wettened clothes clinging to his skin, he still found some comfort in his temporary abode and the protective walls it provided. While it wasn't much, at least he had some form of repellent from the unkind elements surrounding him. He attempted to focus his mind on happier thoughts instead of the loneliness and dread that threatened him, eyes becoming distant as he hums to himself lowly. The corners of his mouth lift into a soft smile which spread across his flakily chapped lips.
A little while later, a vigilante clad in black had returned from his gruellingly exhausting outing, his legs feeling like they were being dragged through mud. Darkness practically clung to him with the aura of mystique he carried. And although he was feeling worn down, he told himself the need for sleep could wait.
As he approaches Crime Alley, he saw it. His vehicle, stripped of its tyres and replaced by loose bricks. He came to a halt, staring with a strange mixture of surprise and slight irritation. The thief had acted swiftly and with incredible precision against any built-in detectors, unlike any sort of hoodlum the vigilante was used to dealing with. He was almost impressed, annoyingly enough.
He kept himself composed, his eyes scanning the area for the culprit, or any clues they might've left behind. His hand was already coming up to his cowl’s comms to inform Alfred.
As if on cue, a loud thud is heard from behind a corner, followed by a grunt. A tire begins rolling comically slow toward the vigilante, spinning lower and lower until at his feet with a clunk.
Jason, who’d been huddled besides a dumpster only an hour or so ago, had first heard the faint whir of the Batmobile when it parked, having immediately waltzed over as soon as he heard the vehicle’s owner leave. At the time he was stealing, he hadn’t realised it was from the Bat everyone’s been buzzing about. So you could only imagine the surprise which came to him as he looks up at the man himself.