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“That’s two today, sir,” Peter said solemnly, voice almost mournful in tone.
Jason breathes heavily from exertion as he roughly flicks his hand, blood flinging from his glove’s fingertips. With the other, less bloody hand, he casually pushes his bangs out of his eyes before calling over his shoulder, “How many times have I told you not to call me sir? You’ve been part of the inner circle for weeks now; there’s no reason to be formal.”
Peter still seemed reluctant to do so but relented nonetheless. “Hood, the number of assassination attempts has ramped up astronomically since last week alone. Sooner or later, someone’s going to get a lucky shot in.”
“I can take care of myself,” Jason said with a somewhat sardonic grin, kicking the cooling corpse at his feet to emphasize his point.
Shooting a glance at the mutilated assassin, Peter returns his attention to his boss. “No one doubts that, sir. But if you get injured at this point, it’ll be catastrophic to your plans. Too much is already left up to chance as it is, there’s no reason to risk something else.”
“You sound like Levia,” Jason grumbles as he turns to walk back to Headquarters, Peter trailing a few steps behind. He graciously didn’t bring up how Peter almost tripped after the recently deceased’s arm. “But you’re not totally wrong,” he admits with a sigh. “Anything in particular you suggest? You were brought in for your brains, after all.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes before his companion finally broke it after mulling over their options. “Well one option is bodyguards, but we both know you’ll only tolerate them on very specific, very limited occasions.”
Jason hums in agreement, and waits to hear the rest. “Another possibility is making another statement. Should help scare off anyone stupid enough to pick up a hit on you. It’d have the downside of making the Bats even more livid and come after you even harder, but you don’t particularly see that as a problem.”
“Last thing I can think of at this exact moment could be the simplest or most difficult depending on the circumstances.”
Peter trails off for a moment, clearly mulling over all the possible pros and cons of whatever this final method was. “Care to enlighten me on the details?” Jason asked after he figured Peter had plenty of time in his own head.
“Can’t have a hit on you if everyone who’d put them out is dead.”
Jason stopped in his tracks because what Peter’s suggesting could cause mass chaos throughout Gotham. Not only that, but Peter was relatively low on the violence scale and preferred not to be involved. “That would solve the immediate issue, but I’d also be starting the largest gang war Gotham has ever seen. Are you sure we’re prepared for that?”
Peter went on to explain, “It’d require a lot of planning prior to actually, um, removing the other crime bosses, but it’s doable. You’re a power house all on your own. With you, the Wraiths, and some solid groundwork, it’s theoretically possible.”
“Theoretically?” Jason chuckled as he started off again. “You’re not usually one for gambling, Peter.”
There was a pause, and then Peter said, “Sometimes you’ve got to bet it all on red.”
At that moment, another figure dressed in all black lunged at Jason from the shadows, the massive machete in their white-knuckled grip aiming for Jason’s throat. Unfortunately for his attacker, Jason was far more skilled and more than prepared for a surprise attack after the one that happened literally five minutes ago.
All it took was a simple disarming technique for the blade to be in Jason’s possession. The guy didn’t even have time to cry out as the blade buried itself in his heart.
A heavy sigh comes from behind him. “Three.”
_______
“It’s almost as crazy a plan as your old Batman one.”
“Hey!” Jason said mildly offended. “It wasn’t that bad!”
Levia gave him an unimpressed look before returning to brewing a pot of tea. “Have you looked over those documents I gave you yet?”
“Of course I have. Who do you take me for? Nightwing?”
“Certainly not. You’re nowhere near as charming.”
Jason snorted goodnaturedly at the lighthearted jab as he perused the next set of documents. He was settling in for a nice, relaxing evening of planning his next hostile takeover, when that was promptly ruined by Mark bursting in.
Leaping to his feet, Jason demanded, “Report!”
“Jay,” Mark said breathlessly, clearly reluctant to continue but powering on. “The Jokerz are on the move.”
_______
“Goddamnit!” Jason swore once Mark was finished explaining all the details. Or, more accurately, the few things they actually knew in regards to the Joker gang’s movements. “What is that monster doing this time? None of this makes sense!”
Grimly, Levia said, “Depending on what Joker’s planning, this has the potential to derail all of our plans. At the very least we’ll have to shelf Peter’s proposals until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Plans can be changed. I’m more concerned about who’s going to get caught in the crossfire. People are already disappearing in the areas the Jokerz are active, and I have a bad feeling they're connected,” Mark pitched in.
Jason snapped out, “Agreed, but we don’t have enough intel to make such speculations, much less prepare for whatever hell they’re planning on sending our way.”
Taking a few minutes to review what little information they had, Jason mulled over his options. He had a feeling this decision was critical in both his and the entire Red Wraith gang’s future. The Jokerz weren’t organized like the mobs or trained like the False Facers. Instead, they had unpredictability, unrestrained bloodthirst, and a specific brand of crazy that gave them an edge.
Finally making his decision, Jason started perusing the files of personnel assigned to Warehouse 13. It only took him a few minutes to find someone with the appropriate qualifications.
“Bring me Henry Carter.”