Chapter Text
Red Hood stalked through hallways, boots stomping silently on the floors of the tower, now where could that Little Bird be hiding?
Under the helmet had formed a vicious smirk ever since he had entered without any problems, fucking suckers.
He turned a corner seemingly into a training room of one sort or another, it hadn’t been one in his time
Only to be facing the wrong end of a gun.
---
Two weeks into Tim Drake’s official (Batman approved) debut as Robin
Rooftop GCPD
Commissioner Gordon stood with a solemn expression in the gloomy night air, hands deep in his coat pockets, in front of him, in the shadow cast by the rooftop access staircase, stood a lone figure, somehow both blending into the shadows and dressed in vibrant eye-catching colors.
“Robin, partner of Batman, I come to you with a preposition of utmost importance and secrecy, before I go any further, I do need your assurance you will never tell anyone, especially Batman that this conversation ever happened. Can you do that?”
And maybe that glint was Robin actually turning to look him in the eye, maybe it was a rare ray of moonlight actually cutting through the smog and falling on the young vigilante. Maybe it was a kid with just a really good flashlight, three buildings over playing with it through their bedroom window, or maybe it was a sniper, difficult to say.
But the commissioner took it as acquiescence and continued, “I have been thinking about something for a while now, why doesn’t Batman kill, why, despite clearly seeing the flaws of the justice system, does he still put his faith in the courts, why does he still trust law enforcement to gather the majority of admissible evidence? He could just make a lot of his evidence look court admissible and in most cases no one would bat an eye at that and for the few with the resources to pay an actual attorney, would get most evidence thrown out anyways, because of the inherent corruption.”
Gordon turned so he only saw the shadow where Robin probably was only out of the corner of his eye and looked up to the overcast sky.
“No, Robin, I believe that our caped crusader has an inherent trust for the system, he doesn’t allow himself the liberties that officers of the law have. So, that begs the question, would he be able to achieve if he does have those rights. What happens when someone gives him a gun and tells him to use it in the defense of the innocent and use it against individuals who stand at risk of endangering others unless immediately taken down?”
The commissioner looked down towards the ground where a burnt out cigarette lay beside his boots.
“Two months ago, I spoke to Batman on this topic. It was when he had become less violent again after the disappearance of your predecessor. I tried to explain this, I tried to explain that my officers have a kill on sight order on several of the more volatile repeat offenders, who pose a risk to cause mass casualties when attempted to be taken in… Let’s just say he didn’t accept my offer.”
Gordon turned to face Robin again, surprised to see that the young vigilante had left the shadow of the staircase and was now sitting on top of the protrusion of the building, what little moonlight which could make it through the smog and cloud cover forming a thin halo behind his head, casting his face in shadow, the kid spoke up in a young voice.
“What are you asking me, commissioner?”
“Robin, would you swear an oath to uphold the law by defending it by any means necessary, short of giving your life?”
“Commissioner… I have not completed any of the training officers need before being admitted to the field.”
“In times of crisis, a commanding officer is permitted to initiate a trainee without the traditional tests, if they believe the additional manpower is required.”
“We are not in crisis!”
“This is Gotham, we are a crisis.”
“You do not know my identity! No one could possibly verify me being an officer.”
Robin was starting to look vaguely sick
“Of duty cops are not required to identify themselves as police, you would never have to show your batch, as you are never going to be on duty, I am not sending a 12 year old out there.”
“I am older than 12!”
“Not the point, if you accept my offer, you would get a batch, you better not show anyone, ever, a gun and an order to use it, to defend yourself and innocents, should the situation call for it.”
“This is such a bad president to set, you are allowing someone to use violence, letting that person be responsible for when they use violence, and you have no way to actually reprimand them should they break some non written rule, you don’t even explain to them.”
“That is not a relevant objection, as no one except for the two of us would know of your status, your primary task is to avoid a situation which could cause Batman to have a meltdown, such as the situation of the disappearance of your predecessor, you, Robin, would be responsible for Robin being kept alive and healthy and to do so in a discreet manor.”
Robin did not look happy at his preposition.
“Would I at least be getting paid?”
“Of course not, what would I be paying you for? You would be perpetually off duty.”
Robin let out a sigh
“Alright, what do you need me to do?”
---
two years later, Red Hood’s attack on Titans Tower
Jason froze in the doorway, one thought in his mind
That’s a Robin with a gun
Robin
With a gun
That’s a Robin with a gun
Any green haze, previously clouding his vision, was cut through by the instinctual need to freeze. Then the vigilante spoke up.
“Red Hood, put your hands up behind your head.”
In his haste to put his hands up, he let go of the gun in his hands, which clattered to the ground, going off on impact, leaving a hole in one of the walls of the room. Robin clicked his tongue in irritation, he spoke up again.
“I order you, without touching the trigger, to grab your other firearm on your hip, you will double check the safety on your weapon and let it fall to the ground.”
Jason’s hand edged towards the gun holster on his hip, without looking away from the gun in Robin’s hands. His fingers reaching the gun, palm on the grip, but index finger out of habit going towards the trigger guard, but accidentally brushing the trigger, itself, instantly a pain flared up, as if he was punched in the shoulder.
“That was a warning Hood, that bullet hit the edge of the kevlar plate on your chest, the next one will hit your less protected shoulder. Now, grab the grip, and no other part of the gun, check the safety and let it fall.”
Jason did, hands faintly trembling.
“Now any other firearms you have concealed on your body. Also any knives and blades, no funny business. Keep facing me. If I can’t aim at that shoulder, for one reason or another I will start looking at your throat”
He complied and a few minutes later there was a small pile of weaponry one last comment later three pairs of lock pics joined it and eventually also the fourth one, that one ceramic.
Jason looked forlornly at the pile wondering if he would ever see his weapons again
—-
1,5 years before, Titans Tower
“Whoa, Rob” Kon said as he half walked, half floated into the newly built shooting range of the tower.
“What did storage room 34b ever do to you, that you decided you needed to practice shooting here?”
Tim raised an eyebrow at him through the mask, unimpressed.
“Well, Kon, I have a gun, and a severely gun averse mentor, where else am I going to practice, the Himalayas? Also, this place was filled with dubious chemicals we confiscated. I thought it best to minimize the risk of Bart crashing into them and becoming a double speedster or something.”
“So… How did you pay for this… renovation?”
“I told Batman I wanted to change Bart’s diet, while I put him on the cheaper knock of brands and sent him with you to Smallville when possible, after three weeks of this treatment I had enough money saved to build this gun range and replace the kitchen twice after ‘someone’ decided to ‘experiment’ with cooking again.”
Kon just shrugged and went on with his search to relieve his boredom.
Tim put his ear protection back, and went back to practicing his aim.
—-
1,5 years later, Red Hood’s attack on Titans Tower
“Now Hood, I need you to disengage whatever locking mechanism you have on that helmet and slowly pull it off.”
Jason’s shoulder throbbed with the pain of a quickly developing bruise, his armor not having been able to properly distribute the force of the shot as it should have, but he grit his teeth and lifted the helmet off his head. He had never met his successor and he had changed in the last couple of years. Tim blinked in surprise at him.
“Jason?”
Well, fuck, there went that hope
Suddenly Robin takes a couple steps forward, after having stood stock still for the entirety of their encounter, all up in Jason’s face despite being a good two and a half heads shorter than Jason. He has the gun pressed against his throbbing shoulder with his right hand and somehow without Jason seeing a small knife in his left, that he lifts to Jason’s domino mask, and quick as a feather he cuts through the lenses and Jason needs all his league training to not flinch and get stabbed in the eye.
Then the knife is gone and those same quick fingers lift the lens off of his left eye.
“Huh, green, you under the influence of a Lazarus, Jay?”
Jason is still rooted to the spot, unable to move. Robin just condescendingly pats his cheek.
“Of course you are, now, how about a deal? You don’t tell anyone about the gun and I don’t tell anyone you had an idea about, what? Trying to kill me?”
Robin looks at Jason’s frozen stature, his mind reeling between the rage which has been causing his every action since he woke up in a pit and the ancient need to freeze in the face of a very dangerous opponent.
“There is just nothing going on in your head, is there? Fine, I will also look into something to calm that insanity in you. There must be something to help against primordial rage. Maybe Themyscira has an artifact, some Greek surely must have tried to make something to stop someone from pulling another Heracles and being cursed to kill his own family in a fit of rage.”
Then Robin hits Jason in the temple and then his world goes dark