Chapter Text
(JASON POV)
The cold air of Gotham gnawed at his skin, the hesitant familiarity washing over his body like a sponge. God, how did he used to live in this godforsaken city? Broken street lamps flickered like the useless old light sources they are - or were, he couldn't tell anymore. From the Pit, from the training at the League, from everything shitty about his life leading up to this very moment. Breaking him out of his thoughts, a baby's coo muffled through the makeshift carrier strapped in front of his chest. He poked the lump he had roped in, earning a more grumpy screech. Huffing in amusement, he slowly opens the fabric slightly to peek inside the bundle. Laying there was the heir to the Demon, Damian Al Ghul. Or Damian Wayne. Fuck it, it's Damian Wayne. Son of the oh-so scary Bat. Despite his fear-inducing titles, Jason was proud (though he'd never admit that to anyone but the infant in his arms) to be his 'babysitter', as he liked to call it. His last mission of duty? Take this demon brat to his father. Easy enough, right? But the Pit fucked up Jason's memories bad enough that he's relying on pure determination and eyesight to find the manor. Without getting spotted by a single soul, to top it off. Sighing, Jason got up - carefully, as to not drop the fragile child in his grasp - and prepared to take off, wrapping Damian closer to his chest. The child in question stared up at Jason, half adoringly and half disgustedly. Oh well. Progress, as they call it.
Jumping across rooftops never was hard. Especially not for him, with League training AND training from the Bat. But carrying a living, breathing, very much alive child while doing so? Eh, it got a touch harder for him. Nothing he couldn't handle, but definitely harder than normal rooftop jumping. What adds to the absolute shittiness of his situation is that he needs to do it extremely discreetly. It's night, and definitely a busy night - both the least ideal and ideal situation for him. Pros? Bruce isn't at the manor, because he's probably patrolling. Papers say that Dickhead is in Bludhaven, so he doesn't need to worry about him. That creepy stalker kid from his Robin days might still be lurking around, but after 5 years, he probably lost interest - like most kids do. Cons? If Bruce is patrolling, that means extra sneaky mode for him. Reporters will also probably be lurking about the streets looking for new things to write on, and being on the front page of Gotham Times is not his cup of tea. Alfie is also probably up, so that means he'll have to avoid going inside the manor and just leaving Damian like some stork bird delivery outside the manor door. Great. Sneaking around, Jason then maps out the most ideal routes to pass through - taking care not to use his grappling hook too much, as the sound might attract attention. What Jason didn't take into account however, is that he'd have to duck and weave around Gotham's skyline like some criminal because Bruce (damn his paranoia) had switched routes to expand more of the city after his death. After a particularly close call, he drew closer and closer to the bright lights of Wayne Manor, a place he'd much like to blow up in the near future, but can't due to the "discreetion" order from Talia. He clambered up the manor walls, careful to avoid any spots that are tripped with security alarms for Alfred to come out with his shotgun. He crept up the lawn, noting how impeccable it still looked (all thanks to Alfred, and he'd made a large effort to point that out on several occasions before his death). The porch grew closer and closer, and suddenly a wave of nostalgia washed over him like a tide.
"Look at me, I'm Boy Wonder!" he yelled, enthusiatically punching and swerving around to deliver kicks to make-believe criminals. Bruce watched his antics with a soft expression, toeing carefully along the lines of fond and gloomy. "Come on, Bruce! Crime isn't going to fight itself!" he had said, tugging at Bruce's sleeve, the excitement evident despite his domino still over his eyes. As though he was unaffected, Bruce just sipped his coffee.
Damn him. Damn everyone who shaped him into this. Setting Damian down, he quickly turned to leave, not wanting to look at this stupid place any longer, but soft, almost inaudible cries came from the boy. Jason's face scrunched up as he crouched down, picking Damian up and rocking him back and forth. Almost as if in sync, when Damian's cries grew to an end and the boy's eyes almost closed, Jason's anger had momentarily paused. He looked down at the child, a child with the blood of his adopted father acquaintance running deep in his blood, his DNA, he almost had the urge to run, to hide from the orders given to him. But orders were orders, and as soon as they were complete, he could finally start his revenge. So he took out one of his League pocket daggers and carefully puts it in a locket with both their initials in it and leaves, fighting with every step to not look back, to not turn around and bolt towards his precious valuable baby brother target and cradle him so that nothing could ever harm him. He almost does, he almost abandons his goal and runs back, but he doesn't. For the sake of the mission, he doesn't. For the sake of his sanity, he doesn't. As he leaves Wayne Manor grounds, he hears the loud, surprised cry from Alfred as he finds Damian on the doorstep. Even more clattering follows as he imagines Alfred hurriedly picking up Damian and caring for him. He almost makes it out without having to slip on his new helmet. Almost is the keyword there. He is shortly stopped by what looks like a crude impersonation of his Robin suit, yet with thicker shock-absorbing pads in his suit and way more Kevlar than he ever wore back as Boy Wonder.
"Stop! Who are you?" The boy says, his domino altering his voice from what he deduces is a voice modulator. Turning around while simultaneously slipping on his helmet, he responds curtly and threateningly.
"Piss off, kid. What, Batman short on Robins that he got a runt to play the part?". That seemed to strike too close to home in the boy, because he draws his bō staff. Interesting choice of weapons. "Aw, the twerp's got balls. You really want to fight?" he says, purposely angling himself so that his dual handguns are clearly visible, and that they are in the exact position where he can easily draw them and kill. The kid gulps, clearly intimidated, but interestingly holds his ground.
"I won't ask again. Who. Are. You?" He snaps back, a bit of sass coming off of him. Fiesty. Suddenly, a gravelly, familiar voice comes out from behind him.
"Stand down, stranger. We won't repeat our words." the voice says, causing Jason to whip around so fast, he was so close to getting whiplash. There, in front of him, was the bastard who let him die. The same man he called for, screaming out his name until his vocal cords were raw and his voice was hoarse. The same man he plead to to save him, to rescue him from the Joker's grasp. The same man who promised he'd be there when Jason needed him, and then every single time it mattered, he wasn't there. There, in front of him, was Batman, AKA Bruce Wayne. Billionaire philanthropist who played vigilante every night. Jason scoffed, and in response, Bruce's eyes narrowed infinitesmally. "Identity. Now." His voice ordered, yet Jason did not budge. Not when he had begged with all his strength to him, for him to save him.
"No." He said, plain and simple, restraining his anger for now.
"No?" The boy - 'Robin' - mimicked, audibly appalled. "Hey, if you haven't noticed, you're denying Batman."
"Do I look like I care?" He snapped back at the kid, annoyed beyond what he thought was possible now.
"Enough!" Bruce yelled, grabbing Jason's collar, bringing him closer to him until he could basically see the stubble along his face. "You will do as I say. You do not have any choice in this matter until we have identified you not a threat!" he growled, fury evident in his tone. It took everything Jason had not to yell back, to not yell back that he wasn't a threat but his son, his dead son, but he was a threat. He was a threat, and he was going to make himself a pain in Bruce's ass.
"Ever considered shaving, old man?" He said, purposely making his tone mocking. The fury in Bruce's expression only grew, the creases of his cowl becoming more pronounced. Well, this was about to get more shitty. One thing he learned from being both a stray, reckless kid in Crime Alley and Robin is that you never, ever poke an angry Bat unless you had a death wish. Before he could react, a fist connected with his jaw, sending him stumbling back. The components in his helmet scrambled to react as both Bruce and 'Robin' prepared for a fight. But as much as he would like to give it to them, he ran. He grappled up through Gotham's skyline, going far away before any of the two hostile vigilantes could come after him.
Time ticked by. Days followed weeks. He had been carefully constructing his underground empire, making his ground as a crimelord - 'Red Hood', they called him. He'd just managed to successfully kill all the lieutenants of Black Mask, a villain who he currently wanted to rain hellfire down on. Strutting into a goon's hideout, he announced himself.
"Listen up, you shitheads!" he yelled, quickly drawing the attention of all of the goons. He waved, aiming a RPG at them.
"Who are you?!" One of the goons yelled back, most of them clearly pissed.
"Listen. You lot kick up 40% to me, and you'll get total protection from both Black Mask and the Bat. That's already better than the scraps Black Mask has been giving you. And stay away from kids and schoolyards. No dealing to children, got it?" He said, completely ignoring the goon. All of them looked around at eachother, cautious, before one spoke up.
"This is a pretty sweet deal and all, but why should we listen to you?" He said, clearly underestimating Jason. In response, Jason threw down a duffel bag that hit the table with a sickening thud. As the goons opened it, several recoiled in disgust, while others muttered in disbelief.
"Those are the heads of all your lieutenants. Imagine what I can do in an evening." He said, dropping his voice down into a threatening tone. All the goons seemed to obey after that, satisfying Jason enough that he turns around and leaves.
Later, after Jason's stunt with trying to take Amazo, Bruce had had enough. Jason could hear him following him, but that was a step in his plan. A step in his revenge. They finally landed in an apartment, where they stared at eachother. Before long, they were already locked in battle, Jason twirling his custom dagger, aiming for specific weak point in Bruce's form, Bruce returning the favour. It was like an old, familiar yet forgotten dance between the two. Jason swerved, faking a blow to Bruce's legs before flipping up, pulling off Bruce's cowl in the process. Jason landed behind Bruce, on the front of the apartment where he could escape at any given moment. Bruce knew that too, because he cautiously turned around. Some part of Jason, possibly the young, dying Robin part of him wished that Bruce would recognise him even with the changes, even with his moral code and still say those sweet, calming words that he always said. But he found none of that fondness, only that cold, Bat with his furious creases. Inside Bruce's eyes, he could see the borderline clinical analysis running through his mind.
"Well, since I took of your cowl, I guess I'll make it even and show you my identity." He said, drawing enough attention from Bruce that he looks at him. He reached back, clicking a button on the back of his helmet, before it tumbled and dropped to the floor with a metallic clang. Oh, how the tables have turned. The pain, the grief, the sheer blend of confusion and desperation washing all over Bruce's face like a tsunami was almost worth the wait.
"Jason?" Bruce said, taking a step forward, but Jason stopped him by raising a gun straight at him. "Please, I can help you. I know what happened-" but Jason cut him off.
"Is this what you think this is about? That you let me die? Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. But why, why on God's green Earth," He pauses, kicking open a broken closet to reveal a bruised and battered Joker (all of Jason's handiwork) tied up, "Is he still alive?" He finished, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm not talking about killing Penguin, Scarecrow. Hell, not even Black Mask. Just him. I'm doing this because.... because he took me away from you." He continued, not taking his eyes off of Bruce. The pain, the sheer self-destruction in Bruce's eyes shows that he's probably a stupid, stupid mess right now. God, how he wanted to kill the clown bastard right here and right now.
"Stop!" Bruce's gravelly voice yelled as Jason prepared to kill the Joker, pointing a gun at the bastard.
"If you want to stop me, you're going to have to kill me!"