Chapter Text
The parable of the prodigal son goes as such:
A son has a father and an older brother. The youngest son asks his father for his inheritance, though his father still lives. The father gives it to him.
The youngest son leaves his family. He squanders his wealth abroad until a famine arises in the country, and his money runs out. Now destitute, he turns to working as a swineherd to survive.
As he feeds the pigs, he finds himself staring at the trough and envying the animal’s meal. He remembers even his fathers servants having enough bread to eat.
He decides that he will return to his father and throw himself upon his mercy. He will beg not for his place in the family back, but instead ask to work for him as nothing more than a servant.
When he comes within sight of his father’s property, his father sees him from afar. Compassion falls upon the father and he runs to embrace and kiss his son.
The son says, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.”
But the father instead tells his servants to bring his son a robe and ring and sandals and clothe him, and to kill the fattened calf for a feast.
The father says, “For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.”
And when the faithful brother refuses to join the celebration, the father entreaties him.
Again the father says, “It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.”
Red Hood is not the prodigal son of Batman; Red Hood is not the son of Batman at all. The name Jason Todd is what links the boy to the man, bridging the gap of death, the gap between his first life and the rest. But Robin was before, and Red Hood is after. Jason Todd was Bruce’s son; Jason Todd is not Bruce’s son anymore.
Jason Todd, past and present, is not, and has never been, the prodigal son.
He left the country, yes, to find his mother. He asked for nothing but his father’s trust; he was denied it. He would not have gone, likely would not have known that he had a living mother, if he were not driven away.
He died, and was lost, then was alive, then found.
He spends his time abroad learning, doing things his father would say were worse than reckless or wasteful. He has nothing to squander; his youth has been taken from him.
He returns, and his father does not see him from afar.
Jason does not want inheritance, or clothing. He wants his father’s love.
Jason asks his father to kill his murderer for him.
When the clown is dead, he– and Gotham– may finally celebrate.
Jason doesn’t get what he wants. This is the main reason he is not the prodigal son.
Red Hood’s supposed to be joining Batman and Robin for patrol tonight. He didn’t ask for too many details, not that they would have given any, but he did overhear something about Riddler gas. Like Gotham needs more Rogues with chemical weapons; he resolves to do some of his own investigating later.
The point is, Aaron Beckett lives smack dab in the middle of Crime Alley in some old apartment building that probably should’ve been condemned years ago. Aaron Beckett used to work as a chemist at Ace Chemicals before being fired. Aaron Beckett is, despite his frankly impressively scrawny physique, on the Riddler’s payroll. The Bat wants information.
Jason would also like information. The more he thinks about the idea of Riddler gas, the more apprehensive he gets. Scarecrow’s fear toxin terrifies his victims beyond all reason. Joker Venom induces uncontrollable laughter and drives victims insane, if it doesn’t kill them first. Compared to the other two rogues, the Riddler is much more unpredictable in terms of the damage he causes. He seesaws between harmless scavenger hunts through the city and mass-casualty death traps. Riddler gas has the potential to be funny, annoying, or absolutely horrifying. At least you know what you’re getting with Scarecrow.
Anyway, Jason’s relationship with the Bats has warmed to the point where he usually won’t bother being too aggressive chasing them out of his territory if they stay near the fringes. That doesn’t mean he’s about to let the Batman gallivant about freely in the middle of it. So when he was (clearly begrudgingly) contacted, he decided to invite himself along. Since Bruce was only informing Jason as a courtesy in order to not be shot the second he stepped foot inside his borders, it had the added bonus of pissing the man off.
Something Jason strives for in every encounter.
Frankly, he’s sure Bruce only capitulated this easily because any Alley resident is much more likely to talk to the Red Hood than to Batman, either out of fear or respect. Even in Gotham, Batman is only trusted insofar as a cop might be, and even the people who like the police take offense to his unsanctioned vigilantism half the time. The Alley needs a different kind of justice, and the Red Hood delivers. Which of course is the point of contention between him and the Bats, but it’s not like anything he's done has been for their approval.
(The Joker maniacally laughing despite Jason's arm around his throat. The blank white eyes of the cowl. The clatter of a falling gun, not an ounce of hesitation in his father’s frame.)
The scar on Jason’s neck itches.
Approximately ten minutes after midnight, Hood pulls himself onto the roof of an office building and retracts his grapple. He notes the the pinch in Batman's mouth, amused.
“You're late.”
“Had to save a few kittens in trees, you know how it is.” He shrugs, pulling his helmet off.
Damian clucks his tongue in annoyance, but bites his tongue when Hood looks at him. That won’t do.
“What? You don't have a monopoly on being a prickly assassin with a soft side for animals, ya know.”
“I highly doubt you were doing anything remotely as honorable or innocent,” Robin snaps. “And you're hardly an assassin.”
“The people I've killed might disagree with you there.”
“An assassin kills people for money or a cause,” Hood is tersely informed. The scowl on Robin’s face is almost cute. “Your rampage through this city is more akin to the mindless destruction of Killer Croc. Victor Zsasz if I'm being generous.”
“Robin–” Batman starts, but Hood's going to get the last word in.
“And before I came back to Gotham to start my incredibly successful crime empire, brat? When your mother sent me around the world to be trained by the world’s foremost experts in murder, maiming, and mayhem? I was killing child traffickers while you were tossing daggers at practice dummies. How’s that for a cause? Honorable enough for you?”
“Enough!” Batman barks, stepping between the two of them. “I have deferred to your claim over the Alley in this instance, Hood, but Robin and I will interrogate the informant whether you escort us or not.”
Hood scoffs. “Please, I doubt you can find your way without me. After all, you only deigned to slum around Crime Alley once a year. Back when it wasn’t under my protection, of course.”
Batman tries to speak but Jason raises a hand to cut him off, getting into it.
“I was living and sleeping and bleeding on these streets every day while you were prancing around the rest of Gotham, Dark Knight. You and your crusade were never a sign of hope in the Alley; kids here only saw you when you swooped in to beat up their dad and haul him off to prison. You can criticize my methods all you like but you left all the good people here to rot. I don’t want to hear it.”
Oops. Jason was more sincere there than he meant to be; he’s trembling with emotion. He takes a shaky breath, clenches his jaw and gets himself under control.
Surprisingly, Bruce says nothing. What’s visible of his face is expressionless and Jason doesn’t have a clue what’s going on behind the cowl. Robin doesn’t either, if the way he confusedly meets Jason’s eyes before remembering himself is any indication.
Jason decides to take the silence as victory. He slips his helmet back on, slightly uneasy.
“Let’s go, then.” Hood says gruffly, and leaps off the roof without looking back.