Chapter Text
If Dick were here, he would be humming dramatically. Some song from that detective show he used to watch. As it were, Nightwing was in Blüdhaven, Red Robin was working on a separate case, and even Robin was occupied.
That left Batman, the World’s Greatest Detective, to sniff out the clues by himself:
Fresh coffee.
Recently extinguished cigarettes.
Wet footprints.
So, Bruce thought, as he rose from his knees, cape sweeping out behind him. Red Hood’s finally established a headquarters.
(Holy investigative work, Batman!)
“Oracle?”
“Copy.”
“I need you to access the cameras near my location. See if you see signs of people entering or leaving in the past fifteen minutes.”
Bruce didn’t wait for a reply, striding through the length of the warehouse, searching for any personal belongings, papers, clues to what Red Hood was planning next. After their last… confrontation, Red Hood had seemingly dropped off the face of Gotham. If not for the rumours that his gang was growing, reported sightings, and the unrest he could sense from Black Mask, Bruce would have thought he’d left the city entirely. But Tim had found a lead, had heard rumours of a meeting between Red Hood and his lieutenants at this location, and it seems he’d just missed them.
His comm crackled. “Only people who have come in or out are a group of teens,” Oracle said.
Bruce grunted. She had to be missing something. Red Hood’s base had to be in this warehouse. Where else would his meetings be?
dululululululu! (that’s the sound of the 1966 Batman transition, you know, with the spinning bat symbol. Just go with it).
Jason Todd, rising crime lord in the city of Gotham, cut a striking figure as (red helmet on) he balanced on the top of a slide in the playground just outside of Crime Alley.
“Second last point for our meeting this evening!” he announced to his goons. “There is a shipment coming in tomorrow for Penguin. Nez, our lovely criminal mastermind, has sent you all the agenda.”
Nez, from her seat atop the monkey bars, saluted, then went back to typing something on her laptop. As his tech girl, there was an equal chance that she was working (great), or she was commenting anonymously on one of Dick’s Instagram posts (less great. She would not stop going on about the Waynes. Something about how they were her Kardashians.)
“Moreover!” Jason continued, moving to perch on the monkey bars next to Nez (she was, in fact, looking at Dick’s Instagram. Gross.)
Jason overheard some grumbling from the new guy – Matteo. Jason quickly glanced him up and down. 5’10’’, ex-millitary, currently sat in a foldable lawn chair. The lawn chairs had been Carter’s idea. His second-in-command had started bringing a few after Jason had started surprising his gang with increasingly inconvenient meeting locations. Not all of us are still young and spry, he had said. For 37, though, Jason thought Carter was doing pretty well for himself. Was still able to lift and spin his two daughters, and that’s what mattered at the end of the day.
Matteo was rolling his eyes at the person next to him, clearly mid-complaint. Carter, arms folded, knew better than to humour Matteo.
Jason drew his gun, cocking his head at Matteo. “Moreover,” he hissed, voice modulator making it come out harsh. Matteo shrunk into his chair. “Movement into Black Mask’s territory will begin again on Sunday. Finch, our chemistry and weapons expert, will-”
Jason was cut off as Finch let out a maniacal laugh. They were spinning wildly on the merry-go-round. But Jason could see that wasn’t what was making them laugh. He sighed.
Larry had got his ass stuck in the swingset.
Jason gestured his gun in Larry’s direction, and Carter took it as the queue it was, standing to go help Larry out. Larry was big guy, Samoan, and a great addition to the gang when they needed some extra muscle. Not great for the Crime Alley park’s swing set, it would seem. Carter, hands on his hips, looked to be assessing the situation. Or just letting Larry struggle for a bit - Jason couldn’t tell from his angle on the monkey bars.
With a quick shot from Finch’s gun, the chain holding Larry up snapped, and the man fell to the floor with a groan.
“What the hell, Finch!” Jason yelled. “Now no one can use the swing!”
Finch only giggled, continuing to spin on the merry go round. “It was a good shot, though, ya gotta admit, Boss.”
Jason’s eye twitched (and so did his trigger finger. Luckily, his gun was holstered).
“Finch, when I-”
A rustle came from the bushes.
Jason held up his fist. A warning for silence.
The rustle came again.
The gang turned to the bushes, but Jason was looking in the other direction, towards one of the rooftops.
“Shit,” he muttered, making eye contact with the Batman.
As Robin sprung out from behind the bushes, launching himself towards one of Red Hood’s men, Jason drew a gun and used it to intercept a batarang, changing its trajectory and letting it richochet off into the playground (knowing Larry would be back at some point to collect it before any kids playing in the morning could hurt themselves).
Batman grappled his way from the rooftop, redirecting off a tree and manoeuvring into a flying kick that would have caught Jason in the chest if he hadn’t scrambled out of the way. Nez, caught in the middle, fumbled for her laptop as it slipped out of her grasp. With her knees linked around the top of the bars, Nez swung her torse forward and, hanging upside down, caught the laptop before it could reach the ground.
Unfortunately for her, Robin was quickly approaching from the other side of the monkey bars.
“Tt, as always, I have the tactical advantage.”
Jason scoffed. “Because you are a literal child. This is practically your home turf.”
Damian, predictably, redirected his attention to Jason. “I am not a child.”
“Now that is exactly what a child would say,” Jason argued, blocking a punch from Batman. They were both balancing on the metal bars either side of the top of the slide. As one of his feet slipped off the bar, Jason was reminded that it had rained earlier that day.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jason could see that most of his goons had managed to slip away. Carter and Larry were doing a good job of distracting Robin (they knew not to hurt the kid, in the unlikely case they got the upper hand), and Nez and Finch had disappeared. Good. He didn’t know what he’d do without his two braincells.
“Red Hood,” Batman growled. “It’s over.”
Jason laughed despite himself. It was a dark thing. “You forget yourself, old man.” (he was feeling dramatic, ok?)
“It is over, Hood. I have found your base of operations.”
Jason laughed harder at this. “Oh, I guarantee that you haven’t.”
Despite the cowl, Jason could tell that Batman’s brow furrowed in confusion. The corners of his mouth did that thing where they somehow turned downward even more.
“It was a set up.”
Jason cocked finger guns. “And here I was thinking that Tim was the brains of this operation, Detective.”
“Why?”
“Now, ain’t that the question.”
Batman growled, but before he could throw another punch, Jason ducked and slid down the slide. Batman, seeming to have forgotten their odd location, just watches as the Red Hood ducked into a forward roll at the end, using his momentum to spring into a jog, leaving Batman and Robin the top of the slide. It started to rain.
“Why did you let him go, Father?”
Bruce was silent, considering.
dululululululu!
Jason dropped his duffle and fell into his chair with a sigh. He dragged a hand over his face and checked the notifications on his burner. Everyone except Finch reported getting home safe. Finch had spilt acetic acid on their phone last week and spent the money Jason gave them for a replacement on new acid instead of the phone.
Jason pulled a file from a drawer in his desk and settled in for a night of going over statements related to a Black Mask case that he had stolen from Commissioner Gordon’s desk.
Mrs Alvarez popped her head into his office. “Ah, Jason! I was hoping to catch you.”
Jason scrambled to kick his Red Hood helmet under his desk, spinning around in his chair.
“Mrs Alvarez!” Jason gave an awkward smile that he hoped came across as endearing and not suspicious. “What are you doing here so late?” Mrs Alvarez was a small woman, old, who ran a soup kitchen in Crime Alley that Jason volunteered at during the day. She had no business being here at 10 pm.
Mrs Alvarez let out a little chuckle. “Don’t act like I couldn’t ask you the same thing, young man. At least I’m getting paid,” she gave a small smile, wrinkles around her eyes crinkling deeper. “You volunteers work too hard.”
Jason felt a pang of guilt, and made a note to get in early tomorrow. “Soup kitchens don’t run themselves, ma’am.”
“Oh, trust me, I know,” Mrs Alvarez chuckled. “Have a good night, Jason,” she said, moving to leave.
“Wait,” Jason called. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Mrs Alvarez shook her head. “You know, it seems I’ve forgotten. Typical for an old bat like me. Goodnight, Mr Todd.”
Jason smiled. “Goodnight, Mrs Alvarez.”