Archive of Our Own

OVERSEEING GOTHAM, TOP OF WAYNE TOWER, 2 AM ...

Jason takes off his helmet, turning off the com-piece as he oversees Gotham’s skyline. Jason is uncaring, unwavering, and rigid, nursing a cigarette in his bloodied fingers, the smoke of the cigarette rivaling the smoke from his recently fired pistol.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I couldn’t care less about this dingy town and its suffering after it left me to rot, but Bruce’s crusade keeps me bonded and what can I say? I kind of care about that old fart and his troop of demented child soldiers—I mean my siblings. The Golden Boy, Richard, unfortunately in my case is my older brother, and will go down punching or protecting one of us, that idiot. Nerd or some fancier title, Tim, my little brother, will probably trip on a rock or something and die anticlimactically while doubling down to try and lead us on a mission. There is Cassandra, older than me by two months, Duke, younger than Tim by a month, and Steph. I’m not too sure how she wormed her way into our family, but she basically is like our sister and is the same age as Cass. Sure, we’re all essentially throwing money into the air where it can’t help anyone and dressing up in stupid costumes to punch some crooks in the face because woohoo(!) illegal vigilantism and ‘why would I go to therapy’. Yet, this cruddy town is ours and I’d have to be a sourpuss to let it fall into some wayward corruption at the hands of some phonies. This is where I grew up, where I lived, and where I reside. So yeah, even if I just had to shoot a guy, if you can even call him that after what he did, bloodied to protect those who can’t protect themselves; I'd do it again in a matter of seconds. Bruce won’t be all too pleased or jumping for joy when he finds out what I’ve done, it’s like I can hear him now.

BRUCE’S VOICE, JASON’S NARRATION:

Justice, not Vengeance, yada yada, you’re such a disappointment, blah.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Yep. This is going to be a doozy. If I’m going to get caught, which will eventually happen, there's no escaping Bruce, I might as well have fun and delay it a bit. Where am I going to get an alibi or someone to help me clean up that mess? Mess. Mess... STEPHANIE! She is great at getting in and out of messes, how else could she have escaped scot-free after dying all of Bruce’s tuxedos into bright pink. She is bound to be dying to help annoy Bruce a little. Now if I can just remember where her apartment is located.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason snuffs out the cigarette against the building’s side before putting his helmet back on. Reaching onto the side of his utility pouch he takes out his grappling gun and swings from rooftop to rooftop towards Stephanie’s apartment.

Stumbling over a loose pebble on the final rooftop, Jason regains balance and looks around realizing he has arrived at his destination. Jason paced towards the rusty fire escape and then began his descent. When he arrived at Stephanie’s apartment, he gave a rhythmic knock that came out as just a little above a tap, ‘tuk tuk tukk’ on her window.

NARRATION FROM JASON:
Stephanie better hurry up or I might just make myself at home on this fire-escape for the next two hours. She’s probably just sitting on her sofa on her phone being distracted.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason gave another quick, desperate, deeper sounding knock on Stephanie’s window, not wanting to trespass.

STEPAHNIE’S VOICE:

I’m coming, I’m coming! God, it's my day off, can you not bother me!? I was plating my waffles!

NARRATION FROM JASON:
For someone who's coming, she is making her way real slow. Her apartment isn’t that big. If anything, she is probably taking pictures and posting the photos of her snack onto Instagram. Finally, she let me in after her snail-paced way to the window. When my feet finally hit her apartment floor, she crossed her arms. I examined her apartment as she in turn examined me. Her apartment smelt like burnt sugar and some overly floral perfume, it kinda made me nauseous. Her apartment seemed relatively tidy, with some dust collecting around minor areas, the infamous plate of a weird waffle combination sitting on her table with her phone right next to it, face down. I’m not the type to say it but, yeah, called it.

STEPHANIE’S VOICE (AWKWARDLY CLEARING HER THOAT):

I’d invite you to take a seat, but you’ve got... blood splattered on you.

JASON’S VOICE:

(MOCKINGLY) You were going to tell me to take a seat? And people say chivalry is dead!

Great to know that your eyes still work, I need a favor Steph. You said I could come to you for ANYTHING, so I’m calling this in.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Stephanie seemed a little lost for a moment, like Bruce when we moved every piece of furniture 2 inches to the right after he went on a business trip. Then she let out a “Ohhhh..” as she realized, connecting the dots. She pursed her lips.

STEPHANIE’S VOICE:

You want a coffee while we talk out how to solve this?

JASON’S VOICE:
I just murdered a man and I’m asking you to help me cover it up Stephanie, and you’re asking me if I want coffee?

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

STEPH SHRUGS

JASON’S VOICE:

No, I don’t--Actually. Coffee sounds neat. Make me one, will ya? Three creams, One sugar.

NARRATION FROM JASON:
Steph quickly slinks to her kitchen, and I follow behind to see if she is willing to talk about the elephant in the room while she makes us coffee. As soon as the coffee pot is firing up a fresh pot of joe, her voice breaks the silence.

STEPHANIE’S VOICE:

You know how Bruce feels about killing someone, even in self-defense. He is going to have an aneurysm when he finds out.

JASON’S VOICE:

Yeah, I know Steph, I’m not a complete idi--

STEPHANIE’S VOICE:

I’m just saying you must start playing by the rules during patrol. I’ll help you but you either need to put on the safety on your guns and switch to rubber bullets or give them up and use your fists. Even then I’m sure you’d accidentally slaughter someone. Not exactly the soft hitter, are you? You know patrol isn’t a game, It’s serious. Like I said, I’m going to help but you need to help me help you. Or else Bruce might have you hang up your helmet. If you are about to spout that ‘I’m an adult, Bruce can’t control me’, remember, he pays for everything, has your trust fund, and allows you to patrol with us. I’m pretty sure he’d send you to either an asylum or jail by now if you weren’t his son. You need to start taking your position legit Jason, or it's going to end up messing with your brain. You’re going down the path of being a murderer, not a crime fighter. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

She did not just quote Star-Wars to me. Here I was thinking she was being a cool person, and she's just another phony follower.

JASON’S VOICE (OVERLY RESPECTFUL, TALKING THROUGH CLENCHED TEETH):

Thanks a lot, Steph. I really appreciate your help. When you can, just go cover up whatever remaining evidence I left down in the alley off Raven Street. Thanks a lot, really. I aughtta get going now though Steph, I think I got to go pick up something from the seamstress.

NARRATION FROM JASON:
I’ve never even been to a seamstress in my life, this was just getting too awkward and berating for my liking. I can just hear her nagging atop of everybody else's now ‘meh meh meh rules meh’. Shoot if I’d let some gal who can’t tell her east from her west tell me off. I’m out of here!

STEPHANIE’S VOICE:
Jason, wait! I’m not done talking yet!

JASON’S VOICE:

Well, talk to a wall or something I’m done with hearing your grating voice today and talking in general.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I gave her a phony peace sign to assure her I ain’t mad, but even the gesture felt so forced to me. I left that place faster than lightning and went back home for some sweet, de-stressing, literature time.

Time Skip/ STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason gets home at around sunrise and changes into his home clothes. He walks into the library spinning his black obsidian ring on his finger. He sits down on a soft armchair after grabbing a random book.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I love this ring. I found it on the floor of the ally right before that crude entered with some girl he was harassing and I-

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason takes a deep breath and looks down at the book that was in his hands.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Romeo and Juliet, huh. I could never fully understand it, no matter how many times I read it, but God I love this book, especially the balcony scene.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Richard enters the scene, sitting on the arm of the armchair, annoying Jason.

JASON’S VOICE:

Mind telling me why you’re intruding on my personal space, ya dunce? Can’t someone read some tragic love tale in peace around this manor? There is like, three more libraries in this huge mansion and you chose MY library? That I called dibs on? You’re a heat-seeking missile.

RICHARD’S VOICE:

I’m not in your bubble, I’m simply sitting down in an empty space I found. This library just feels so much more used and loved, and is it a complete crime to want to hang around my little brother?

JASON’S VOICE:

I’m a grown man.

RICHARD’S VOICE:
Yeah, Yeah, sure. Whatever.

NARRATION FROM JASON:
He waved me off as if my comment was nothing that sonuvabitch. I’m a grown man Rich. Treating me like an incompetent kid, what a phony with that too-wide grin of his. He stretched out, now completely talking without regard to my comment of personal space as he pulled up his legs and made himself comfortable in MY space and MY preferred arm chair. If I had more than half of a brain and less care for this evil thorn in my side, I would have kicked him off by now but I didn’t.

RICHARD’S VOICE:

Sooo, mind telling me where you went off to on patrol? We had a 23-19 and you were nowhere to be found. Your tracker and com were off, and you really worried us. We thought you got hurt.

JASON’S VOICE (SHRUGGING):

Nowhere. Or maybe everywhere. You sure my com was off? Pretty sure it was on the whole time, and at anytime, and my tracker too. If anything, it might have glitched.

RICHARD’S VOICE:
You sure? Because I’m pretty sure it was off.

JASON’S VOICE:

Positive, 100%. If anything I was probably at Beeswax Emporium, at Nunya Street.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I saw a recognizable messy muck of hair enter the room, and surprise-surprise, it was none other than our little brother Tim.

JASON’S VOICE:

Look whose here, now go away Rich, he's clearly looking for me if he's at MY library.

TIM’S VOICE:

Hey, Jason, can you come help me with something? I have a date coming up and I feel incredibly unprepared.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason nods and him and Tim leave the library to go to Tim’s room.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Why would he even come to me, Rich is better at all this stuff, but he can be intense. Maybe I’m moving into the favorite brother category. Score! Well, maybe if Tim can get a new face and personality and tame that bird’s nest on his head he won’t look half bad for his date. Oh, ewww. Tim’s room looks like some sort of freak sci-fi laboratory gone wrong. It's as messy and filled with lava- like that one planet where Anakin Skywalker burns alive, how can he live like this? He looks so put together usually, and this is what goes on behind the scenes.? Reminder to self, NEVER come into Tim’s room again. This literally gives me the shivers, like some shirt-monster will snatch me up any second now.

TIM’S VOICE:
Oh crap! I forgot about that patrol report and college paper I had to write! Jason, please, save your favorite little brother! Be a sweetheart, write those reports for me! I don't care what you say in the patrol report, nothing happened but the paper for class must be a description of an object of value!

JASON’S VOICE:

Bold of you to assume you’re my favorite little brother, you mongoose. But sure, I can help you with your papers. You know I took AP lit in Sophomore year, right? Had a whole book in planning before, but, you know, the missing status and missing high school and all that.

TIM’S VOICE:

I don’t think your rambling is going to write my papers. Here, just make sure its at least B-grade work. I promised Roy we’d go to the youth fair together but college, and yeah. He’s very excited about the ax-throwing and archery competitions.

JASON’S VOICE (SLIGHTLY EXCITED):

Roy? Like Roy Harper?

TIM’S VOICE:

Yeah, you know him? He’s not really a Gothamite, I’m surprised we hit it off for a date.

JASON’S NARRATION:

Roy? Of course, I know Roy! He practically saved my life when I was held captive! We became friends in the three years I was undercover. God, Roy Harper! Never thought we’d meet again! He keeps his sharpest arrows on the back of his quiver for easier access. I wonder if he still does that.

TIM’S VOICE:

Honestly, if all goes well, I might ask him to patrol with me as Arsenal to my Red Robin. Maybe I’ll even get lucky, and we’ll do something more than punching a thief in the gut. If you get my drift. Hey, why don’tcha find yourself a nice dame or dude? We could all go out on a double date next week.

JASON’S NARRATION:

A double date with my little brother?! Ew! I’d rather be dunked into vat of acid Quinzel style before that. He might act all innocent, but I know that he is a complete weirdo. He’d make it so awkward or step away every five minutes to ‘freshen-up’ with his date like some sort of love-sick dying opossum.

JASON’S VOICE:
I know Roy. I’m not interested in double-dating, I don’t do ‘ships as in relationships.’ I like, I see, I dance, I leave. But me and Roy just to be inseparable buddies in the 3-years I was undercover. We were jelly-and-jam, glued to one another. Ask him if he keeps all his sharp arrows in the back of his quiver still, will you? Do be a gent with Roy though, you wouldn't want to stain our name with some ludicrous actions on the first date wouldya?

TIM’S VOICE:
Hmm. Yeah, yeah.

JASON’S NARRATION:

There he goes again, cleaning his ears with whatever I said and brushing it off. How could Roy ever agree to go out with someone as phony as Tim? ROY HARPER, the smart, strategic, understanding, patient, Roy Harper dating TIM DRAKE-WAYNE, irresponsible, hyperactive, and empty headed, Tim Drake-Wayne. Impossible, he deserves so much better.

TIM’S VOICE:

So, will you do that report for me?

JASON’S VOICE :
Yeah, yeah, maybe. We’ll see how I feel.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason and Tim go downstairs to the grand-entrance while Tim is rummaging through the coat-closet and Jason holds the door open. After half a minute, Tim pulls out Jason’s leather jacket and puts it on.

JASON’S VOICE:

What do you think you’re doing touching my jacket?

TIM’S VOICE:

Oh, c’mon bro, I need to look cool while on a date, don't I? And your jacket looks tough.

JASON’S VOICE:
Thou art an insufferable worm.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason lets Tim through the door while rolling his eyes.

TIME SKIP/ STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason sits in his room; half the day has gone by and he is looking at the papers he promised to do for Tim.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I had a helluva good day after all that drama. Duke and I went to go watch a musical after dinner at Gotham Opera and it wasn’t as half-baked and cruddy as I thought since I usually hate musicals, but it was good. I’m in some damn comfy pajamas, given to me by Rich last Christmas as a phony gift because I’m pretty sure he had bought these the day before Christmas. My tea is perfectly steeped and hot, the ring on my finger havеing a nice, grounding weight to it, but now instead of getting cozy with a copy of Pride and Prejudice I have to crack down on these reports for Tim or he’ll get his knickers in a knot. I better win Brother of the Year for this. I don’t know what to write for these, nor do I have the energy. Let’s start off with the patrol report, I mean it's not like there's a lot to write on here. This is just a small summary. Have I even written my patrol report? Whatever. Let’s stick to the facts, but why is it just so hard to figure out what to write? Maybe I took a few too many hits to the head. Or maybe its because I never finished high school because of that stupid mission. Its all cool though, I got my GED and I’m set for now. Alright. Report: No one died, stopped petty theft, an average Tuesday, and no injuries be reported. And to check off that it was ‘totally Tim’ who wrote it, let’s add a phony thumbs-up emoji. Perfect. Now, an object of value? Does Tim even have a soul to be able to care for anything that isn’t a coffee machine? Well, might as well write it about something I care about.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason stops spinning his obsidian ring and absent-mindedly reached over for his mug of tea, in the process he knocked over a small wooden figure that toppled onto the floor with a clank.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Oh man, I can’t believe I just knocked that over so carelessly! If it broke, I might have bursted a blood vessel or been super pissed off for the rest of the month. That’s the last thing Damian did before he died, he was just a kid. The little dude was only ten, and super talented too. Honestly, if he was still alive, he’d probably be better off than half of us here right now. I remember that same night, before that building crushed him, he had stayed up all night trying to whittle the soft into the same likeliness of a porcupine. The kid was way too good for this world or any of us, and sure it wasn't amazing, but it was great for a kid his age. He had spent more than 2 weeks on it, and we all predicted he would spend another 2 weeks on its finer details. But we never could have predicted the loose structural pillar. He must have been damn afraid, just like I was all those years ago. If Roy hadn’t found me in that air bubble just a few hours later, I woulda died from panicking and I thought that was the worst thing ever. Never thought my baby brother would have drawn the short end of the stick without an air bubble to himself last summer, but what can I do?

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason grabs the toppled small wooden figure tenderly in his grasp. He puts it back into its spot carefully. He starts to type up the paper with clenched teeth.

NARRATION FROM JASON:
That stupid paper is taking too much effort to write without spiraling into some phony woe-is-me thoughts. Tim better be groveling on his knees when I give this to him.

TIM’S VOICE, JASON’S THOUGHTS:

Oh Jason, the Best Brother in the World! What a beautiful and symbolic report you have written for feeble me!

NARRATION FROM JASON:

And then he’ll give me twenty bucks as a tip, maybe. Well, I’m at 900 words for this, might as well print it so he can white-out whatever he doesn’t want. Sending it to print isn’t a hassle, but I gotta walk over to Bruce’s study later for that... Duke owes me a favor, I’ll tell him to bring it to me.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

As Jason sulks in his thoughts, the sun hits his window, light warming up and shining in his room. Jason gets up and opens his balcony door, resting on its ledge, looking over the gardens and enjoying the heat.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Man, Damian would have loved this summer. The birds are chirping, his dog is running around digging holes, and just in general relishing the rare heat of Gotham, where winter lasts almost all year. He’d probably be talking our ears off right now for staying inside and not going anywhere to enjoy the sun, even if all of us think it's too hot to do anything. Damian, if I even still believe in the idea of prayers, I hope you can hear me. I’m sorry everybody else has forgotten you, but your big brother never will, okay? I’m so sorry, kiddo. I hope you forgive us when the day comes.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason stands on his balcony, wavering in emotion. He pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking as the scene ends.

TIME SKIP/STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Tim enters the scene (Jason’s room) in a hurry.

TIM’S VOICE (IN A HURRY):

Hey, Jason, so, did you do the report? I like, really need it?

JASON’S VOICE (UNINTERESTED):

Yeah, yeah, your reports are on my desk. You owe me big time for this, you hear that? I better get that limited edition hardcover of Sense and Sensibility I always wanted for my birthday for this, you hear?

TIM’S VOICE:
Yes, you’re the best, Jason! Thank you!

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Tim walks up to Jason’s desk and takes the two reports, reading through them before looking up with a frown.

TIM’S VOICE: (GETTING MORE IRITATED)

What is this, Jason? These look like a third grader wrote them, each sentence is like, four words long. I asked you nicely to write two reports and you can't even do that? Like seriously, I don't ask you for things that often and the one time I do because I really need your help, you fuck this up? What is this patrol report? It's what? 7 words long? Do you even know what a proper sentence is? Oh, right! A drop out like you wouldn't! And what's up with my college assignment? Who cares about some stupid figure? This is college, not kindergarten! I thought you would have enough sense to write about something serious, but clearly, I was wrong! Why would you even write about Damian’s statue? You seriously need to get over him, it's been too long for you to still care this much. Maybe getting rid of the stupid thing would help you concentrate more. Maybe you'd even stop lazing around and get a proper education!

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Tim snatches up the wooden figure in his grasp.

JASON’S VOICE (AS HE’S WALKING TOWARDS TIM):

Don't you dare talk about Damian like that! He was our brother! Our baby brother! He died protecting this stupid city and its stupid people! Don’t you dare talk down on his memory! I don't understand how all of you can just act as if he never existed! As if this this town didn't kill him! As if we didn't let him down!

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason roughly takes back the wooden porcupine from Tim’s hands and gently throws it behind himself on his bed before snatching up the reports he wrote. He rips them up and blows the strips of paper in Tim’s face.

JASON’S VOICE:
I really tried to help you, you ungrateful asshole! I'm SO sorry that I decided to go on a mission to save this town instead of finishing high school! And I’m SO sorry that that mission almost killed me!

TIM’S VOICE:

Hey! You didn't have to rip them up! And stop playing the victim here! You are acting like a stupid selfish brat! If you wanted to, you could've still finished high school, like we all did! You could have gone to any college, and Bruce would have paid every single cent! You are just too preoccupied wallowing in self-pity to do anything productive!

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason roughly grabs Tim by the front of his shirt and pulls him towards himself, opening his mouth to counter when the door abruptly slams open and reveals an angry, red-in-the-face, Bruce with a panicked looking Richard following behind him.

BRUCE’S VOICE:

JASON. PETER. TODD-WAYNE. Look me in the eyes right now and get your ass over here.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Whatever is going on this can’t be good, because Bruce Wayne just stomped all the way up here instead of calling me to his study and looks moments away from swearing like a sailor. Might as well hurry my ass over there or I might be as good as buried or worse. What could his geriatric senile self be going mad over? Did he think I ate the pudding cups? Do we even own pudding cups? He’s not that old but that son of a bitch deserves to at least be dragged through the mood in my thoughts. Ooh, maybe I shouldn’t be calling my adoptive grandmother a bitch, not her fault her son’s an emo-gay-furry. Yeah, that's right, I said it. Fuck you, Bruce. Wait, he’s probably here to scold me for murdering that pervert. Honestly, I thought it’d take him more time to figure it out. Hopefully, I can convince him that the son of a bitch deserved it. Maybe he’d even thank me for ridding the world of one less child molester! The chick was 24, but come on, that's where child molesters start off, aint I right? Look at Leonardo Di-Caprio. He was damn good in Titanic but that 25-and-under thing doesn’t shine so well. Why do I keep delaying myself? Jail Warden is awaiting.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason makes his way over to Bruce, who is seething over the long wait. Bruce takes a deep breath and exhales, trying not to immediately lose his temper.

BRUCE’S VOICE:

Alleyway on Crow Street. Are any bells ringing in that twisted head of yours yet? You killed the lead on my case, once again. I thought you learned after that mission I sent you undercover. I thought I could trust you, but you are no better than the serial killers we lock up behind bars. You are not God to go around killing people that can be rehabilitated or used for evidence. It is not your job to dish out revenge or vengeance. We stand for justice. You stand for justice. There's a finite line you just crossed again after you’ve been on its tightrope for far too long. I should have locked you down after the first murder, even if you claimed self-defense. Killing people messes your brain up once you have a taste for it. You should never use that force against a civilian OR criminal. Unconscious is one thing, dead is another. And you should know that one of those is permanent and terrifying.

JASON’S VOICE: (DEFENSIVE)

I did Gotham a favor that you are too scared to do. You couldn't even kill those who set off that bomb in the building that killed your youngest, and not to mention, only, biological child. You and your screwed-up definition of Justice could go and jump from a cliff, and I think I wouldn't even bat an eye. I love you, Bruce, you are my dad. But you make it so fucking difficult. They were all criminals! I let you jail them! I let you send them to the asylums! But they just keep getting back worse! They won’t ever change!

BRUCE’S VOICE: (COLD AND ESCALATING)

Maybe I shouldn’t be your father if you think that ending people’s lives is okay. No, let me rephrase that. I shouldn’t be spoiling you rotten and not disciplining you when you’ve done wrong. Because of my love for you, I’ve raised you a brat... That fault lies within me, but you must fix yourself. You are stronger than a citizen, you know this. You shouldn't abuse your power against them. We maim, we do not kill Jason. I’m willing to help you, always, but you cast me off like some toy that no-longer captivates a rotten child’s attention

RICHARD’S VOICE: (FEARFUL)

Dad... Jessy... Please, let's just talk this out calmly...

JASON’S VOICE: (HURT AND ANGRY, TEAR STRAINED)

Kiss my ass, Bruce.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Out of nowhere, a loud SMACK echoed across the room before silence took over. Jason stood there, shocked, his face now turned to the side as his hand came up to rub at his now bruised cheek. Bruce stayed reserved, a harsh look on his face as he rubbed the back of the hand he hit his adoptive son with. Richard took half a step forward before stopping himself, staring in disbelief at his father while Tim turned to stare at Jason, opening his mouth to say something but no words coming out. All Tim did was run out the door of the room, not wanting to see the transgression of this argument. Jason slowly moves his head to stare back at Bruce, tightening his fists so hard his knuckles slowly start to turn white.

JASON’S VOICE (FULL OF HURT AND ANGER):

You know what, Bruce? Fuck you and this family. You’re nothing more than an overgrown child playing hero. Well, guess what? I'm done being your little puppet. You already killed my baby brother, I'm not going to let you kill me too.

RICHARD’S VOICE (PLEADING):

PLEASE! Let's take five minutes, just five minutes to think this through before we do or say something we all regret.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Bruce doesn't acknowledge Richard, simply glaring down at Jason before opening his mouth to yell at him. Before he can, Jason swings his fist in the direction of Bruce’s jaw, but Bruce catches his fist, squeezing it tightly and bringing it to his chest.

JASON’S VOICE:

Bruce. Let go.

BRUCE’S VOICE (ICE COLD):

I love you far too much to let you go down this path.

JASON’S VOICE (ENRAGED AND DESPERATE):

You’re a fucking controller! Let go of me now! You are the reason why I just want to drop everything and run at times! You ruined my life instead of helping me! You and your stupid white-savior complex!

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason keeps yelling frustratedly at Bruce who does not show any emotion other than a grunt or eye twitch sometimes. Jason’s cheek had been swelling up as Bruce seemed to eye it as if inspecting how much damage his slap had caused. Richard stood there, unsure of what to do. Jason tried to throw another punch and sock Bruce, again aiming for his jaw, only to once again be caught in a tight squeeze and brought close to Bruce’s chest. Bruce’s eyes softened in pity, not wanting to physically fight his son or give into whatever seemed to be stirring up between them. He lets Jason’s fists rest against his heart, a usual soothing gesture to Jason but currently just enraging him. Jason seethes in rage, feeling infantilized during the discourse.

BRUCE’S VOICE (SMOOTH AND GRUFFLY):

You don’t mean that Chum. I’m sorry I hit you, but you need to stop this behavior now. I’m not letting go of this ‘murder’ incident, but we can still figure it out without me sending you to an asylum if you cooperate. Nothing could ever make me want to send you away or disown you, please. Just let me allow you to get the help you so need. I should have never let you back onto the field. You are unwell, you need rest. You need your father. You need help. I’m here, Chum. I’m here and I want to help.

JASON’S VOICE:

Oh, screw you! Let go of me! You think I’m just some helpless kid, well I’m a grown man Bruce! I don’t need help, you need to get a fucking life!

BRUCE’S VOICE:
You and your siblings' well-beings are my life. Calm down, then we’ll talk.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Bruce leaves and Richard grabs Jason’s arm and drags him into his room. Once inside, Richard simply sits down on the bed and stretches his legs, letting Jason calm down and rant to him. Jason paces the room.

JASON’S VOICE:
That dick! Talking about “caring for our well-being!” What about Damian’s well-being!? How could he say that yet do nothing about his death? His killers?

RICHARD’S VOICE:

What happened to Damian was a tragic accident none of us could prevent, J. Taking a killer’s life won’t bring Damian back to us. He does care, in his own special emotionally constipated type of way.

JASON’S VOICE:
Of course, it won't bring him back! But it would bring him peace! It would bring ME peace! How could he live or even sleep at night, knowing that the people who took the life of one of his kids are still out there?

RICHARD’S VOICE:

So, killing Damian’s murderers would make YOU feel at peace? Because I don’t know if Damian would appreciate that, or you butting heads with Bruce so often. Bruce has his reasons for his madness even I can’t explain. But he loves us.

JASON’S VOICE:

Shut up. Stop making sense.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Richard continues to patiently listen while Jason rants, letting him let out his emotions. Eventually, Jason tires himself out, sitting at the end of the bed next to Richard, his head held in his hands, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

RICHARD’S VOICE:
It’s getting late, so you should get some sleep, tomorrow, after you’ve calmed down and slept, you could talk to Bruce normally. I should also get some shut-eye. I have to get up early tomorrow for work.

JASON’S VOICE (IN A HALF JOKING MANNER):

Maybe I should just run away to a convent.

RICHARD’S VOICE:

Don’t say that; Bruce would wash your mouth out. You know how he feels about cults. Plus, not funny. You know Damian’s mother and how that went for her. You could fuck off to wherever you want, just don’t joke about stupid cults. Do you want to end up on true crime?

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason rolls his eyes, and they fall into silence.

RICHARD’S VOICE:
I really do have to wake up early tomorrow, go bother Tim, or better yet, go get some sleep. You need it. Maybe you should even go up and apologize to Bruce.

JASON’S NARRATION:

That ass thinks he can just send me off? Whatever. His job ain’t even important he practically does it all day anyway. He’s a pig! I mean a cop. Oopsy Daisy. Thanks to Gotham’s PD and low work morale, all of us (bats, birds, and whatever the fuck Bruce is making up nowadays) work the night shift and Duke takes on the day shift. Rich just thinks he's so awesome for helping the cops from the inside too and not just as some crappy illegal vigilante in spandex. I dont feel like walking all the way back to my rom. oHis bed can definitely fit both of us like old times. He’s just hogging it like usual.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason lightly shoves Richard and makes his way onto the bed as Richard complains. After a few irritating minutes, they settle.

RICHARD’S VOICE:

Night, Jessy.

JASON’S VOICE:

Night, Racheal.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason cant seem to fall asleep and after a few hours he gets up and leaves Richard’s room and goes back to his own, packing some clothes, toiletries, and Damian’s statue in a duffle bag before making sure the obsidian ring is still on his finger and retrieving his stack of cash and quietly leaving, not being able to stay in the house any longer. He puts on his most comfortable baseball varsity jacket and walks out of the house without being spotted, most of his siblings already asleep. He gets onto his motorcycle and starts driving.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Stupid Tim and hogging my leather jacket. Welp, that moment with Richard was nice while it lasted, but I am so not spending another night in that prison until Bruce comes begging on his knees for me to come back and spewing up apologies like when he spews out bullshit. I know I’m right, he just needs to see it with a little push. While I’m out would it be a crime to live a little? Nope, take that Bruce. I’m off to Star City. The best place to party hard, drink hard, and meet some nice ladies. Or dudes. Whatever I fancy at that moment.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

A small beeping brings Jason out of his thoughts. As he looks down at the dashboard of his motorcycle, he notices that the fuel light has churned on. He swears under his breath and drives to the nearest gas station. He parks near a pump and leaves his motorcycle while it fills with gas to go inside and buy himself some snacks.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I’m such a dunce, I forgot to pack any snacks since I just wanted to leave so fast. I’m not a fan of starvation so, what other choice do I have than some awesome gas station food? Damn, this place has a f’real machine! Its a good gas station, man aren't I lucky!? Gotta stock up for the coming days before I can find a set grocery store and place. My three-quart filling is almost done by now, and it was such a scam too. 25 dollars and I can’t even get a half tank?

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason starts spinning his ring again while he grabs around 4 small snack packs of chips, a small pack of trail mix, couple sticks of beef jerky, three Celsius cans, and makes his way over to the f’real machine to mix himself up a peanut butter cup smoothie. The gas station’s cashier, an old man, churns to talk to him as Jason pays for his stuff.

OLD DUDE’S VOICE: (INTERESTED)

My my... You’re from Gotham, correct? My son has the same varsity jacket as you, he goes to all the Gotham Knights games! Practically owns all the memorabilia for them too. You must have seen each other at some time, correct? His name is Daveed, about your height and he has blonde hair.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

About my height? Blond? Daveed? Who would name their kid Daveed? Actually, I think I mighve arrested someone with my height and blond hair a few nights ago... Oh, well, no matter. Better not to upset the poor man.

JASON’S VOICE (LYING):

Daveed? Of course, I know Daveed! Best dude around! Always so kind and full of life! Everyone know him! Always could count on good ol’ Daveed.

OLD DUDE’S VOICE: (HAPPY)

I’ll let him know I ran into you! Whats your name again boy, and don’t worry about your gas fees. I’ll cover those... Always happy to meet one of my boy’s friends.

NARRATION FROM JASON:
Damn. Of course, it's good that I don't have to pay for gas, especially with gas prices these days, but now I kinda feel bad. Oh well, no use of pondering over it. I cant tell the truth now.

JASON’S VOICE:

My name? It’s Bob Schufflet. Thank you so much, Sir.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

That’s the name of a murder witness at some random gun range I had to console for practically three hours about a week ago.

OLD DUDE’S VOICE: (SCOLDING)

Anywho. What’s a young man like yourself doing up so late at night? Shouldn’t you be somewhere safe in bed by this time?

JASON’S VOICE: (100% CONFIDENCE IN HIS LIE)

On a road trip to Star City, Sir.

OLD DUDE’S VOICE:

Isn’t it dangerous to drive this late? Wouldn’t it be better to wait until the morning? You young people are so impatient these days...

JASON’S VOICE:

It was imperative to come now... You see, my friend, while walking his pet poodle, was squashed by a semi-truck going at 70 miles per hour whose brakes were slashed. He popped straight open like a watermelon, with how it was reported to me a water balloon is more accurate. Poor man’s guts were everywhere. His poodle is alive and well, maybe a little traumatized or depressed so now I need to go pick it up since he left Misses Twinkle Tail to me and it must have a specialized wet-food diet so if I don't arrive in an hour, it’ll starve to death.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
The old man stays quiet after that, shocked. He seems to want to say something else, but Jason quickly pays for his stuff and leaves in a hurry. He hops back onto his, now gas filled, motorcycle and continues his journey. By the time he gets to Star City the sun is starting to shine on the horizon and Jason parks in the parking lot of the first motel he sees.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

That shut him up real quick, and his face was just priceless. Can’t believe he paid my gas fee. Well, here I am. Star City, and I’m getting a little shut eye. Chugging down all three Celsius cans in one sitting was probably a bad idea because I can swear, I’m trembling too. Richard’s voice just NAGS in my head.

RICHARD’S VOICE, JASON’S NARRATION:

Take sips! No more than one can at a time! At least six hours apart!

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I hate it when he’s right. I actually kinda miss his voice. I should maybe call him... No, he’d just call me stupid for running and then beat my ass black and blue thinking I actually went to a convent. Maybe I can buy a Ouija board and talk to Damian. Sure, he was the most annoying ten-year-old I’ve ever met, and he's also dead, but he is a so much better conversation partner than any of those fools. Man, I need to get to a motel. Oh, speak of the devil, “CONMAN INN OPEN 24/7” and their vacancy sign is on!

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason enters the little office space to book a room for himself for the next few nights. He gives the manager a fake name and pays in cash, telling the manager the same story he told the gas station cashier when prompted before quickly leaving after receiving his keys. Jason walks out the office to make his way to the assigned room. As he walks, he notices his neighbor’s open window.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

What fucking creepy shit did I just walk upon? Oh, ewww GAG. Is that some old dude dressed up as that pony from the show Damian used to deny watching? The pony one. The “friendship beats evil” type show? Is he dressed up like Pinkie Cake or whatever her name was? Well, that's uhm. An interesting cosplay choice involving very little clothing. Oh jeez, I need to bleach my eyes—THERES ANOTHER PERSON IN THERE TOO?? Oh god Pinkie Cake person and Cowgirl Apple are getting WILD. ARE THEY SNORTING LINES ON EACH OTHER TOO?? Welp, that's another way to say ride me like a rodeo. I’m leaving these freaks to their business. If I had less shame on their part, I’d probably tell them to close their curtains... Stupid Green Arrow’s turf and his weirdos.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason opens the door to his assigned room, throwing the duffle bag with his belongings on the floor and flopping down on the bed. After a few minutes of doing nothing, he gets bored and sits up.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I’m just so bored. How can I be bored in Star City? Those weirdos next door completely threw off my groove. I still kinda want to call my stupid brothers, maybe my sister, or I should really invest in that Ouija board. I kinda miss Bruce, maybe I should just call him... What the fuck, I’m not even a drink in and I’m going to make a bad decision. He needs to apologize and realize I’m not some kid no more. Oh! Maybe I should call Roy up, he lives in Star City after all. Maybe I can show him the difference between me and phonies, like Tim. Maybe we can go to that club that we used to sneak off to together.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason takes out his phone and dials Roy Harper’s number. He picks up on the fourth ring.

ROY’S VOICE:
Jace! What's up? I haven't heard from you in quite some time! What are you up to? You know yesterday I was just with Tim?

JASON’S VOICE:
Nothing much, Roy, but I’m in Star City and was wondering if you wanted to meet up today? I know you saw Tim, really nice of ya to see him but like. Want to meet each other up at Supernova’s? I’ll buy the drinks.

ROY’S VOICE:

I’m so sorry, man, I’d love to but I have patrol soon, so I can’t. How about we meet tomorrow or something? You just called me up at a really bad time, plus I’m following a trail of heists and all that.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Just my fucking luck. Star City’s #1 Hot-Shot is too busy for me, ugh. I would have shown him a good, no, a great time. More than Tim could ever show him. I guess I’m going to Supernova’s solo, like a sad drunk. God, I really wanted to see Roy; I feel so bothered right now. If he was here, I bet in twenty minutes flat I’d feel better. If he doesn’t want to see me then fine.

JASON’S VOICE (LYING, WITH SOME TRUTH):
Oh, I can't do it tomorrow, I might be back in Gotham. So sorry, Bullseye. Maybe we’ll figure out a time for later if I’m still here, yeah? If plans change for, ya, come find me in Conman Inn under the name Bob Schufflet. I could give you a nice motorcycle ride after we have a grand time.

ROY’S VOICE:
Oh, sucks I can’t see ya and that you’re leaving so soon. I really wanted to see you Jace, but you know how life gets. We’ll meet some other time though. I miss you a lot, I’ve been thinking about when we first met after I rescued you.

STAGE DIRECTION:

The call ends as Jason frustratedly hangs up, face planting back onto his bed while he lays there for a minute being frustrated.

NARRATION FROM JASON:
Fuck. I should’ve pushed him to skip patrol to hang out with me, since I didn’t wanna patrol at all. I really want to see him. I miss him. And his stupid little habits. I wanted to see him fumble over his words sometimes. Just to stare and long for his lips. I wanted to be close to him. I want to rip him away from Tim. Fuck, I might be in love with him. STUPID PRIDE, Ugh! I should have insisted.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason falls asleep on the bed for a few hours. When he wakes up he’s bored again.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

That was a nice energizing nap, but let's see it is now the afternoon. Maybe I can tidy up and take a shower, and then I’ll eat. Just so that this place doesn’t look like a mess or worse, Tim’s room for the rest of my stay here.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason takes some time and soon decorates the room a little by placing down his personal effects on the nightstand next to the bed. His two favorite books, Damian’s wooden porcupine, his phone, and a few other items. Jason carefully peeled off his varsity jacket and folded it up. He entered the room’s bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror in shock at how much of a mess he looked. His usually kept hair was a mess, his eyebags were more sunken and he looked a little paler. He remedied this by taking a long shower. After then, Jason had changed into his usual clothes and slipped on his obsidian ring, toying with it again. Jason had grabbed his phone and subconsciously opened his contact app

NARRATION FROM JASON:

I’m itching to call and check in at home. It was really dickish of me to just run after that argument, especially with how Tim reacted by running out. Maybe Richard comforted him for me. I didn’t even tell Duke where I went. Maybe I should call him. Screw them for not calling me first yet. I really should get that ouija board, Damian would have called me in the matter of minutes after I left. He was the only cool person in that dumb family next to Duke or Cass. God, I miss Damian and his stupid little laugh. If I knew that he’d be ripped away so soon, I don’t think I would have brushed him off half as often or even gotten so angry at him when he woke me up early on Christmas. He’d be so excited to show everyone the gifts he got us in his own stand-offish way. His only flaw was that he paid too much attention to detail. He paid too much attention to disarming the bomb and making sure everyone got out safe, and it led to his death.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason had put down his phone and instead grabbed the wooden carving on the nightstand, holding it close to his heart and clutching his hands around it like an oyster protecting a precious pearl.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

He spent too much time on the details of this porcupine, and he never even finished it. He was obsessed with the idea of carving wood out of nowhere for his last few months, maybe he told me and I never paid attention. I remember he only made one other wooden animal, which was a snake that when it was done it looked so lifelike and gorgeous. He had sent it over to his mother, just dying to see if he’d get a letter of approval that never came. If anything I kind of want to go steal that dumb wooden snake from her or buy it off of her. No matter how much money, I’d cherish that thing like a star fragment. It’d be my pride and joy to own my artistic little brother’s latest and last collection of work. If he had just spent less attention to detail maybe he’d be here, or he’d have way more carvings to leave us with. But I don't think I can imagine him without his flaw, it’s essential to what makes him so special. Its just not like him to overlook details, maybe that why he always detailed everything he did. Because he saw himself as incomplete and half-assed without it. He was the only person I knew that was everything BUT phony.

NARRATOR:

Jason hesitantly puts the carving back onto his nightstand and stretches. He stands up and gets his wallet and phone, shoving them into his pockets.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Thats enough feelings for now. If Roy doesn’t want to come then I’ll track him down later. I’m going to Supernova’s with or without him.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason leaves his motel room, locking the door, going to the parking lot, getting on his motorcycle and heading off the Supernova’s. When he arrived, he parked his motorcycle and went to the ticket booth.

TIRED DUDE’S VOICE: (IN A TONE THAT REVEALS HE IS SEVERLY UNDERPAID!)

Hello. Welcome to Supernova’s Showcase, we might have no windows, but we certainly have the best view in all of Star City. Will it just be you today?

JASON’S VOICE: (ANOTHER LIE)

Yeah, just waiting for my friends to arrive, I promised I would arrive early.

TIRED DUDE’S VOICE:

Alright, it’ll be uhh... 10 dollars, since Wednesdays are 50% off.

JASON’S VOICE:

Perfect. Thanks. Hey, do you guys still do that ‘Chug three pints in a minute and drinks free for the night’ deal?

TIRED DUDE’S VOICE:

Yeah. I’ll let the bartender know you’re over for the challenge. Can I get a name?

JASON’S VOICE:

Thanks. It’s Jason.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason hands over eleven dollars in cash and his ID. The ticket worker quickly prints his ticket out and returns his ID after raising an eyebrow (JASON TODD-WAYNE...). Jason waves him off and enters the club.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Stepping into the club, the first thing that comes to mind is that they haven’t changed this place a bit. There's the same odor of cigarette and marijuana smoke mixing with the tangy scents of the bar and their greasy foods, and most importantly the scent of their dozens upon dozens of safety and health violations. I’m glad to know they aren’t changing for some new phony codes only phonies care about. Supernova’s Showcase was a great place if it wasn’t for all the weirdos that came in later and the fact they permanently kept their doors closed, so the sound reverberated from the walls and shook everyone’s glasses of alcohol. I’m pretty sure that the sound could even bring back to life that dude I killed, and honestly it better hurry up in bringing him back so I can kill him once again to piss Bruce the fuck off. The dancers are performing their usual routines in their little to no clothing, this one specifically being the Wagon Wheel Watusi. What? Just because I’m a meathead doesn’t mean I can’t recognize dances. The other performers are just throwing themselves onto other clients and flirting with them. A girl was sitting in a chair as a provocative female dancer took off her ascot and dragged it over her shoulders teasingly before walking away with a smirk. Gotta give it to the dancers, they sure do love what they do. Honestly, I’m a little jealous none of the performers have come up to me yet. I took a seat on the very uncomfortable old dusty creaky bar stools as I smiled up to the bartender who returned the smile. It was Derek, the usual bartender that was here a couple of years ago when me and Roy would come down here for a nice time together. The bar itself was actually in better condition than the rest of the club. The wood on the counter seemed to be brand new, and Derek had finally set the three pints in front of me and jeez, did they secretly turn it into six pints since I left? Or is it just because they changed the glass it was in? I bring the glasses closer to me, because who knows if they’ll try and swipe my glasses if I'm not looking? There is tons of phonies in this place. As I started to drink my first glass watching the timer run down, I relished the way it stung my throat just a bit as its smell invaded my nose. It would be so much more peaceful and enjoyable if this tall dude, ‘Sam’ according to the annoyed dude sitting with him, next to me would shut up about their weird ‘siren hunt’ to a shorter annoyed man ‘Dean’, as ‘Sam’ says, just trying to enjoy his double applewood bacon cheeseburger. Probably some drunks. I gave Derek a thumbs up as I slid the now-empty pints across the bar to his area. Now it's time to hunt on the dance floor for some nice fellas or ladies to have a ball with and then jet. There were two pretty blondes and a stunning brunette just killing it on the dance floor, two dudes, and a gal. They seem to be having a good time but I bet I can make it an even better time.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason approaches one of the blonde men. The blonde stops dancing, captivated by Jason as the others seem distracted, and smiles at Jason when he extends his hand.

JASON’S VOICE:

Such a handsome group and yet nobody is running up to ask for a chance to dance? I might as well whisk you away for the whole night. May I have this dance...?

BLONDE DUDE’S VOICE:

Corbin. Yes, you may, handsome devil. Now spin me faster than any carousel can go, or I might as well find a new dance partner if I’m as beautiful as you say.

JASON’S VOICE:

Your wish is my command, Enchanted.

NARRATION FROM JASON:

We danced for like half an hour as we got weird looks from his friends. The guy, Corbin, is a great dancer, but thats about all he’s good for. I tried to strike up a conversation with him a few tmes while we danced, but its like talking to a wall. I would ask him a question and he would say “yeah” or “cool.” Honestly, its like this guy has nothing inside of that head of his. He didnt even react when I offered to pay for his drink. I asked him if he wanted to leave with me and he said “that's nice” as if I was telling him some story. The only time he seemed to actually listen was when I was talking about Flash, and even then he just cut me off and started rambling about vigilantes and how cool they are and how they saw batman giving out autographs at the bus station... he seemed to genuinely believe it too. I didn't think people that dumb existed but maybe he’s just high? Everyone seems to be in here. I hope I don't sound like this when I'm high... This guy is so far from reality it's almost cute.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Jason dips Corbin down while they dance and leans down to kiss him on the cheek.

CORBIN’S VOICE:

Hey! What was that for?

JASON’S VOICE (LYING, CHANGING TOPIC, WANTING TO LEAVE):
Hey, is that Flash outside doing autographs?

OTHER BLONDE DUDE’S VOICE:

Flash!? Where?! I need him to sign anything of mine now!

BRUNETTE:

FLASH????????!

NARRATION FROM JASON:

Of course, that's what got their stupid 0.3-second attention spans. Not me offering to pay for drinks, dance some more, or getting some dinner, literally anything. Such a shame that such a pretty guy like Corbin was such a stupid phony. He and his gaggle of pals, which I think I caught their names Finn and Ayesha before they left. They ran off faster than Tim at the sound of the ice cream truck when he was younger. And to think I was going to get lucky and score myself a piece of some ass tonight... People were starting to settle down to watch the star performance of the night, so the dance floor was getting empty. At least one more drink before the night is over since I couldn’t even enjoy company till the end.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason goes to the bar again and sits back down.

JASON’S VOICE (SHOUTING OUT TO DEREK):

Derek! Triple shot of Vodka! Lemon on the side!

DEREK’S VOICE:

On its way!

STAGE DIRECTION:

The shot and its plate carefully slid over to Jason, the lights dimming to build rising tension for the show of the night

JASON’S VOICE:

Fucking hell.

STAGE DIRECTIONS:

Jason takes the shot after biting into the lemon. He puts his face in his hands, groaning, alone yet surrounded in the club’s full, bustling atmosphere as the scene ends.