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Jason had wondered what it felt like to fly, and now soaring over Gotham he got his answer. It was exhilarating, spending his nights flying across Gotham, punching goons and saving people. Residents of the alley loved him, could tell that he was one of them, when he would swing through, stopping to give them some money stolen from Bruce.
We get back to the cave and Bruce-no, Batman immediately starts shouting at me. Telling me I killed him, I pushed him, I should have saved him. I didn't kill him, but I wouldn't feel bad if I did. I don't think I could have saved him, but apparently I should've tried atleast. Tried to save that peice of rapist shit who caused the death of that young lady.
Now he's going on about how he's going to take Robin away because I'm too violent. Too dark and vicious to be the light to Batmans dark.
You know what? Fuck him! I followed his rules, I helped people, and if he can't see that, he can break Robins wings. I'll make my own.
I round the corner and there stands Joker and a group of his goons. I glance at Sheila, eyes wide in shock, just in time to see her smile widen as she says, "I lied."
The goons rush forward and I stand there, everything crashing down around me. I don't have enough weapons to fight them all off, and even if I did, the weight of betrayal keeps me frozen in place. The Joker laughs, "I'm going to have so much fun clipping your wings, Batman won't get here in time to stop me shooting his little birdie out of the sky this time."
When Bruce took Robin it felt like he was breaking my wings, plucking my feathers. Lying here now, I feel my wings truly break. It is an agonizing think having your wings broken, being grounded, knowing you will never fly like that again.
Lying on this warehouse floor I realize that Bruce, that no-one, will get here in time to save me, and that it is already far to late to save Robin. I am going to die before I reach 16, just like I always was going to, like I always knew I would. In the end it doesn't matter that Bruce adopted me, I'm still an ally kid, and ally kids die young.
No, Bruce didn't break my wings, that was the crowbar and cackling laughter, he tried to take them away, and that, in some ways, is worse. I just hope that Bruce will make sure that I'm the last one the bastard kills.
All I can see is darkness, not the comforting kind, the kind that feels stale, deep, dangerous. It's smells like dirt and damp. I reach out and my hands hit walls and a ceiling. I try to remember what happened. Robin, Ethiopia, Joker...
I died.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I died, this is a grave, I'm buried, in a coffin, six feet under. I can feel the air thinning, my breath quickening. I need to stay calm, not waste air. But my breaths grow shorter, and my heart speeds up. Panick races through me, along with the thought that I'm going to die, alone, for a second time. My hands search frantically for something sharp and then I'm hacking at the wooden lid and clawing at dirt, desperate for air. I don't know how long i fight for but eventually I'm stood looking down at my headstone. My clothes are shredded, fingers bleeding and broken, dirt and gravel under my remaining fingernails. I'm caked in mud and blood and standing there the agony lessens, my body going numb and my awareness fading
Everything burns. It feels like my entire body is wrapped in flaming agony. The fire laps at my skin and surges through my veins. The fire's eating me from the inside out, it was mending my body, dragging my consciousness back into a corpse. Which hurts more, A, or B?
My vision was filled with green. The same green as Robin, the same green as Danny's?(Who is that? Why do I feel like I know them?) eyes, the same green as his hair. Forehand or backhand?
I stand here, a gun to the Jokers head, begging Bruce to avenge me, to kill me, to see me, to love me. To realise I'm different,that I came back wrong, that his son is still 6 feet under, that I'm a twisted broken version of myself, but underneath I'm still that same alley kid. Begging him to choose me, to kill the Joker.
And then he chooses the Joker, by throwing a batarang at my throat. Distantly I hear the Joker laughing, but all i can think about is the pain. Bruce chose the Joker over me, I shouldn't be surprised, its always been Batman and Joker.
What is Batman without Joker?
Control without chaos?
Vengence without cause?
But I cant help thinking, what happened to Batman and Robin?
Night and day?
Darkness and light?
I feel sorry for the Robins to come after me. Because Robin will always fall, whether thats quietly or screaming, its inevitable.
As I lie here, bleeding out, my brain clears, the green fog fades. I might not have gotten revenge but I finally realised that Robins will fly and Robins will fall, and it's something only a fallen Robin can fully understand. Now I understand Dick, and maybe he'll understand me. I just lost a father, but I might have gained a brother.