Chapter Text
The apartment door fell shut with an audible click. Red Hood waited to hear the telltale scrape of a deadbolt before he shot his grapple off. The older woman who lived there had thanked him profusely for escorting her young grandson home; the kid had snuck out at night to meet up with a friend. A normal teenage thing to do, but potentially deadly when done in Crime Alley.
Hood landed lightly on the adjacent rooftop, eyes and ears peeled for any disturbances.
It had been a slow night, but he got some leads on an arms trafficking ring encroaching on his territory that he would deal with later in the week. Hood considered turning in for the night, when his phone rang out with the Gotham emergency alarm.
Not a bat-alarm. The general alarm that rang out on all phones in Gotham.
Hood reached for his pocket, when his comm crackled to life.
“Hood, don’t look,” Oracle said, in her usual clean, efficient tone. Despite the calmness of her voice, Hood knew something was very, very wrong. He had a feeling he knew what it was too.
That alarm only ever rang out for mass emergencies. Rogue-level emergencies.
At the moment, the only rogues out of incarceration were Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, but they were only a week into their month-long honeymoon. A honeymoon they swore to Batman would involve no criminal hijinks; Wouldn’t wanna cut our lovin’ short now would we, Ives? Had been Harley’s exact words.
If it wasn’t Harley and Ivy, then the alarm was because of an Arkham breakout. There was only one rogue that Oracle would try to protect Jason from.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” His phone, screen still dark, was clenched tight in his hand. A crack shot across the front of it. Jason forcefully loosened his grip.
Deep breath in for seven, hold for four, out for seven. Jason repeated that a few times and he realized that Oracle hadn’t answered him yet.
He called out for her, eyes shut as he heard her reply. “Yes. Joker broke out. Batman is on his way there.”
“The others?”
“Robin and Red Robin are out of town for the week on a trip. Nightwing is in Blud, but he’s headed to Gotham now.”
Red Hood did a couple more breathing cycles. It helped loosen some of his anxiety that his younger brothers are out of town, and nowhere near that madman. He made a mental note to call them later.
“Tell B that I’ll meet him at Arkham.”
This wasn’t the first Joker breakout since his resurrection; and unless Batman changed his mind on that No-Killing Rule, it wasn’t going to be the last.
“Hood, let Batman and Nightwing take point on this. You’re done patrolling, yes?” Oracle didn’t wait for an answer she already knew. “Come down to the Watchtower. I could use an extra set of hands over here to canvas the city.”
Red Hood tried to ignore the feeling of relief in his chest at being offered an out. He hadn’t wanted to go to Arkham, to see the cell where the clown stayed, to be in a tiny room that smelled of grease paint and rotten breath.
“Sure, I can help, O. Be there in ten.”
Canvasing the city over cameras was a daunting task. Jason respected Barbara immensely for doing it so well. Staring at everchanging video feed started to hurt his head, but he refused to stop, not with Joker on the loose.
They needed to find him.
A few hours in, and Batman finally connected to the comms with an update.
“He’s been out for a few days at least. Paid a goon to take his place. Nightwing is questioning the guards. Oracle, any news?”
“I ran through the Asylum’s footage, and I’ve got nothing from this last week. Joker’s face shows on the footage five days ago in the cafeteria, and then after that, we never see his face again. Only the back of his head, or a bit of an arm. The cameras in his wing appear to have been shifted to leave big blindspots. I went over a couple months ago, and the cameras were in better positions. This was planned.”
Jason stared at Barbara. The pale light from the screens underlit her face, making the eye bags stand out. She turned and met his gaze head-on.
“Have we got any leads?” Jason forced himself to ask.
“…We will find one,” Batman replied. It didn’t sound very reassuring. “You should stay at the Manor.”
Jason shook his head, forgetting for a moment that B couldn’t see him. “No need.”
“For me, son?”
Irritation flared. Bruce didn’t have any right to sound so worried. Bruce wasn’t the one who’d been beaten by a crowbar, tortured for months on end, and burned alive. His life hadn’t been destroyed by that psycho clown just for jollies.
It was great that Bruce was going to therapy. Everyone had been begging him for years, and it required Jason to die and be resurrected and fight with the old man to get him to agree. But this was literally the worst time for him to start verbalizing emotions. Bruce’s usual penchant for grunting and being distant and argumentative would be much appreciated right now.
“I said, I’m fine.” Jason muted his comms. Barbara rolled close and patted his arm. She carried on the planning without Jason, giving him time to do deep breathing exercises.
When it was clear there wasn’t much else to do that night, Jason escorted Barbara to her apartment. He went in and checked all the rooms first, making sure everything was clear. The alarms and upgraded security were armed and ready to go. They were set up on multiple closed-circuit routes, so if one system failed the others would remain up as a backup.
Babs teased him as she followed around the apartment, but he heard the faint relief in her voice anyways. Just like she protected him, he would protect her.
It was nearing six in the morning when he arrived at his favorite safehouse. The one with a bookshelf filled with his favorite classics and a decently-functional kitchen. He triple-checked the security measures and the rooms, but it was all clear.
He was too wired to even think about going to sleep, so he settled onto the stained couch with a pint of ice cream and checked his phone. The emergency notification stared up at him, cut through with the broken screen. Joker’s name taunted him in bold and all-caps. Yellowed teeth peeking between stretched red lips laughed at him from the corner of his eyes. Phantom aches cropped up as his body remembered the months of torture.
Inhale for seven. Hold for four. Exhale for seven. Repeat. Repeat.
He ate a bite of melted ice cream, and let the cold sweetness distract him from the heat tickling at his skin. Jason needed something to distract himself with.
He wasn’t sure what time his brothers would be up on their trip, but six in the morning was a normal time to call, right? He rang Tim’s phone first. The insomniac was probably already scrolling social media.
Some errant ice cream dripped on his hand. He licked it up, listening to the dial tone.
“Hello?” Tim’s tired voice creaked through the phone.
“Hey, it’s me,” Jason said. Jesus, why did he sound so croaky? He cleared his throat, trying to sound natural.
“What’s up?”
“Heard you and the demon brat were on a field trip. Fuckin’ nerds!” There was a quiet hum from the other side. Weird but whatever, Tim wasn’t a morning person. “Anyways, just callin’ to tell you that dickface tripped on a burrito on patrol and totally wiped out in front of like an entire gang.”
Like hell was Jason going to admit he was calling to check on his brothers’ welfare. Besides, this was a true story about Nightwing, though it was technically yesterday that it had happened. Babs sent him the video, and he was excited to show it to Tim and Damian. Tim would do that evil laugh of his, and Damian would tut at Dick and call him a Disappointment, Grayson.
“It was his burrito that he dropped on the ground, too, you know that food truck on the corner of eighth? Then I dunno how but Mr. Beauty and Grace got hot sauce under the domino. He started screaming at me, as if I’m gonna put away my guns in the middle of a fuckin’ firefight to deal with his stupid bull–”
“Oh damn, are you still talking? That’s crazy. Anyways, leave a message at the beep. BEEP!”
Jason froze. He stared at the phone where it started counting the seconds of his message. “Tim?”
He hung up the phone and tried again.
“Hello?” The same tired voice, the same inflection. Voicemail again. And again, and again.
It was fine. Timbo was a horrible morning person. He was probably just sleeping in and missing field trip stuff. Or his phone died; did Tim remember to pack his charger?
Jason clicked on Damian’s number. As a trained assassin, he was a light sleeper and always up with the sun. Damian was going to answer and report that Drake is attempting to frighten the wildlife with his snores. Everything was going to be fine.
The phone rang and rang. “Hello.”
“Damian!” Jason exclaimed, trying to hide the relief in his voice and not really succeeding.
“What is up?”
Jason paused. That wasn’t Damian’s normal speaking pattern. “Drake, this is stupid, even by your standards. I will not be recording this.”
The message cut off with Tim’s loud groan in the background.
Jason stared in frozen disbelief. Not only had he been fooled twice by his younger brothers’ antics (seriously, that was one of the oldest tricks in the book, and Jason had fallen for it–he would never live if down if they found out), but neither had answered their phones.
He called Damian again. Tim; then Damian; alternating brothers.
He started leaving messages.
“Timbo, pick up or I'm replacing all your coffee with decaf.” “Demon brat, answer the damn phone or I’m cooking Gerry.” “Tim, you better not be fuckin’ with me, this isn’t funny. Joker is out. If you don’t call me back in the next five minutes, I’m going to track you down and drag your sorry ass back here.” “Damian, I require a status update. Call back when you get this.” “Timmy, please be ok; this isn’t funny. Call me back.” “Dami, you’re usually up by now. If you’re just out listening to the birds, I get it, but bring your phone. I need to know you’re ok. Call me back now.”
It felt like hours have passed since he started calling his brothers, but when he checked the time, it’d only been fifteen minutes.
Jason had just dropped off Babs at her home, and she was exhausted. It would be cruel to wake her up for this. The trackers he snuck into his brother’s shoes were registering at the Manor. They must have brought different shoes for the camping trip.
Ok, don’t panic, Jason. Everything was totally fine. Everything was A-Ok. No need to jump to the worst-case scenario.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Jason was a bat. He’d been trained by the World’s Greatest Paranoid. All it took was the sound of a car backfiring outside to send his mind to images of his brothers’ dead, bloodied bodies with laughing monsters looming over them.
Jason’s exhaustion was forgotten with this bump in adrenaline buzzing through his veins. If he couldn’t go to Babs, he would have to go straight to the BatComputer and track them himself.
Less than an hour after getting to the safehouse, Red Hood was back on his bike.
Alfred was waiting for him by the entrance to the Batcave; somehow the man had ESP when it came to incoming visitors.
“Good morning, Master Jason. May I interest you in some tea?”
“Hey, Alfie. I’m good, thanks,” Jason rushed out. He ran past Alfie (not without pausing to kiss his grandfather on the head) through the tunnel that led to the Batcomputer.
“Is there any reason for the rush this morning?” Alfred asked.
“They won’t answer.”
“Who won’t answer?”
“Tim and Damian. I tried calling them a dozen times, but they aren’t answering.”
Alfred seemed to freeze for a moment before schooling himself back to his calm neutrality. “I’m sure we can find out where they are in a few moments. Don’t worry, Master Jason, the school would have called if there were any issues. I’m sure the young masters aren’t paying attention to their devices. They’re meant to be camping right now, which means fire-side breakfast.”
Alfie was right. Tim and Damian probably were sitting beside a fire trying to cook sausages or vegetables on sticks. Damian would hate it, and Tim would end up accidentally catching his food (or himself or Damian) on fire.
Bruce and Dick were at the computer staring at some files. Dick turned at the sound of his voice and rushed over to wrap his octopus arms around him.
“Hey, Little Wing.”
“Ge’off me. I tried to call Tim and Damian but they’re not answering. Check on them.”
Bruce’s fingers stuttered on the keyboard before resuming. Their trackers showed them at a campsite just outside of Metropolis.
“Can we get eyes on them?” Jason asked.
Bruce shook his head. “No cameras out there. I’m sure they’ll call back in a couple hours. The teachers are often pretty strict about phone usage, and it is meant to be a no-electronics camping trip.”
“No electronics? How did you get Timmy to agree to that?” Dick asked with a confused laugh.
“I thought it would be a good idea for them both to go on the trip. I asked Damian to draw me some landscapes and asked Tim to take pictures. I made sure the teachers allowed the camera.”
“Huh. That was it? They went on a no-electronics trip without a fuss?” Jason asked, incredulously.
Had his brothers been replaced with pod people?
“Yeah, it doesn’t sound like them,” Dick agreed. “They probably brought contraband electronics to use anyways.”
“They did kick up quite the fuss, and I’m sure they brought contraband electronics,” Bruce agreed. “But camping will be good for them.”
All Jason could think of was Tim getting burnt to a lobster red just by daring to be outside for even a second. And Damian being absolutely horrified at the unsavory bathroom options. His brothers were probably miserable. They needed a rescue, and Jason needed to see them alive.
“I’ll go get them,” Jason said.
“Go? Why?” Dick asked. He shuffled his hold on Jason to get a look at his face. “You’re worried about them.”
“No, I’m not. But with Joker on the loose, we should know where everyone is.”
Dick’s face did something sappy, so Jason shoved him away and turned towards Bruce.
“They have emergency beacons on them, even if there’s no electronics allowed.” Good, at least therapy hadn't rid Bruce of all his paranoia. Tim and Daimian would definitely alert them in the case of a Joker attack. So long as they were conscious enough to do so; remember when you got kidnapped? You weren’t able to hit the beacon before it was removed.
Bruce grunted. “Look, their trackers are moving.”
Jason turned his attention to the screen, to see a cluster of dots moving around. Five dots moved towards the left, while another four dots moved down. One dot remained stationary.
“They’ve both got five trackers on them. Looks like Tim left his jacket in his tent.”
Jason stared at the dots. He wanted them to converge into a live video of his brothers. He couldn’t escape the bad feeling in his chest, but he could admit that seeing the trackers helped.
They all watched the dots move around for a minute until Jason broke the silence with a topic change.
“Have you found anything new?” It’d been less than a couple hours since the last check-in, but breakthroughs developed rapidly at this stage.
“Yes. An Arkham guard turned up dead about ten minutes ago. Gordon called and said it was definitely Joker’s doing, so this guard may have been involved in the breakout. I’m about to head to the crime scene to investigate. I was hoping you and Nightwing would be able to check out some of Joker’s known hideouts to see if you can find anything.”
“If I may, sir, it is seven in the morning. You can check on the murder scene, but I suggest Masters Dick and Jason get some rest before going out door-to-door. It has been a very long night.”
“Time is of the essence, Alf. We need to find him and put him back.”
“I agree. But having them kick down doors while running on no sleep is perhaps not the best idea.”
Bruce relented. “You’re right. Boys, head up and get some sleep. We’ll start tonight.”
Dick looked like he was about to argue, but a cold look from Alfred had him shutting his mouth with an audible click.