CHAPTER 1

"The Thought of Revenge"

Jason Todd awoke with one of the worse hangovers he'd ever had, and to those who knew Jason and his habits, he'd had had quite a few bad hangovers. When he moved, every muscle in his body hurt, even his eyelids. A brightness cascaded through a window near-by and stung his pupils like they were being struck by tiny needles.

Oh God, how much did I drink last night? I don't remember a thing…

Laying on his stomach, he turned over on his back and for a moment lay flat on the sheets, blinking his eyes despite the pain. He picked points in the room to focus on and tried to gage his surroundings, he didn't know where he was. The last thing he remembered was he was at a bar and sucking back one shot after another in some sort of drinking game. He didn't normally drink like that, but someone egged him on and he was never one to be a coward.

Maybe this was one time I should've made a strategic retreat, as Tim always says…

He whipped off the covers and noticed he was wearing nothing but his Kelvin's — his clothes neatly folded on a chair next to the bed. That was when his brain finally kicked in to where he was and judging by the decor of the room, he was in a Wayne Manor guest bedroom. And not his own apartment.

There was an unwritten rule that the BatFamily, as they affectionally called themselves, came to Wayne Manor for the holidays, no exceptions. On the rare occasions when Jason visited — both he and Dick had their own apartments — Alfred would always prepare one of the guest rooms for him. But why was he here now? He had made no plans to visit, nor was it a holiday.

Yes, he recalled, he must have been so drunk that he instinctively told taxi to bring him here he got in at the bar. He then also remembered, vaguely, Alfred undressing him, and getting him into bed. But he was foggy on the details.

Good old, Al… I'll have to buy him some biscuits to go with his tea.

Later after he dressed, he made his way down to the Bat Cave, where even the smallest noise from the shrieking of the elevator, to any other tiny noise, delivered shock after shock to his skull due to the hangover. No one else was in the Bat Cave except for, who else, Tim Drake, and he was at a lower tier console of the Batcomputer — probably engaged in some project. He was always working on the computer.

Tim: the techno-freak.

Jason badly wanted a smoke, but it was forbidden in the main area of the Bat Cave, and when he checked in his clothes, he had none. So, he settled for some coffee instead that was brewing on table near Tim. Tim knew how to make a really good brew of coffee. He supposed all night owls did.

He picked up an empty mug sitting next to the coffee pot on the table and poured himself a full cup. Oh, Goddess of black gold, please cure this god-awful pain in my head! He was expecting black coffee, but wasn't black at all — and it tasted good, really good! Jason sipped, and sipped some more.

Is that cinnamon and nutmeg within the coffee? So good…

Tim finished typing something into the Batcomputer, some sort of digital code, and then turned 180 in his seat. He rolled his eyes — Jason knew he looked exhausted. "Rough night?"

"I don't remember…"

"I can smell the booze on you. You reek of it!"

"Care to tone down the lecture, professor. I have a major headache."

"That's what you get for drinking too much," Tim said unsympathetically, then turned back to the Batcomputer, and continued typing. "There's some stuff for headaches in the Medical Bay. I think Bruce keeps the good stuff for pain in a locked cabinet, but it's not locked at the moment."

Hint, hint! "Perfect!" Jason voiced, and wondered across the length of the Bat Cave to the Medical Bay section.

After gulping down some meds for his hangover, and taking a few other things for later when he needed it — Bruce would probably notice, but he didn't care — he returned to Batcomputer.

He filled his mug up again. "Good coffee, Timmy," he said, sipping it. He was more alert now. "What're you working on? You're always at this computer whenever I see you. Or should I ask? Do you even engage with us lower lifeforms anymore or have you evolved into a superior, robotic meta-human?"

"You question does not compute."

"Ha-ha, you're a joker," Jason said dryly.

Tim smirked crookedly. "I'm upgrading the algorithms for the Batcomputer's security protocols. I do it more frequently after Cat Woman breached the Bat Cave and attached a nullifier to the computer during her erotic fanfiction caper."

"I'm not fully awake yet, Tim. In English, please," Jason said, feeling his head. He still had a mild headache but it was quickly fading. "Or, if I get you — you're cockblocking us from more pussies?"

Tim slammed a fist on the side of the keyboard dash. "Why do you have to be so disgusting?"

Jason slipped his coffee. "It's who I am, kid. I'm a realist. I tell it like it is."

Something beeped on the Batcomputer. Whatever program Tim had been running had finished, and he turned to read the diagnoses.

As Tim did that, Jason took his coffee and left Tim's side for a moment, and wondered the Bat Cave. He found himself looking at the many 'trophies' Bruce had collected over the years from the arch-criminals he had defeated. One of the most prominent trophies was a giant silver coin on display. It was from one of his earlier cases when Dick Grayson was Robin. He hadn't gotten the full story about it, but it had something to do with the criminal Harvey Two-Face, the man who didn't do anything without consulting a two-sided coin.

The man who also murdered my parents, Jason remembered. Currently, the bastard was in Arkham Asylum, but if Jason had a say, he'd be six feet under right now.

As Robin, in a previous life, Jason had fought against Two-Face many times. And every time they met, Bruce had to reel him in from committing the worse act of evil — murdering his parents' killer. Anger still swelled in him. But he learned to control his urges, for the most part, and channel his anger issues to more productive ventures…like killing other criminals that Bruce and the others don't want to touch, as the vigilante Red Hood.

Harvey Two-Face was vicious, and personified what it was to be the typical mob boss. Before he turned to crime, he was a Gotham City District Attorney. Acid was thrown into face by criminals in court, and as a result it caused a split personality disorder, and half his face was disfigured. He had a nasty temper, too. The giant coin was scratched on one side and was normal on the other, much like Two-Face.

Much like everyone, in fact, Jason mused. Everyone has two parts to their personality.

With his brain fully awake from the coffee and meds, he remembered Nightwing and Damien were on night patrol, and he checked his watch. It was mid-morning, so they would be back very soon, he wagered.

Jason crossed the floor back to Tim. "So, have you given any thought to our conversion the other day?"

"Not particularly," Tim stopped, and turned in his seat to face Jason. "And revenge is not my forte."

"Oh c'mon! Dickiebird and the Hell Spawn did a number on us a week ago. You told me you spent nearly half a day running back and forth to the bathroom after Damien gave you that laxative in your protein smoothie; Dick putting viagra in mine. Do you know how hard it was to take a piss? I had to be a very skilled acrobat."

"I didn't need that image," Tim said. "It was a rotten thing to do, I admit it, but in retrospect, we deserved it. We listened in on a very private conversion with my new parabolic radio dish."

"You're such an apologist."

"Hey, I would've thought you'd got your revenge after you gave your 'gift' to Dick. I can't believe you gave him that!"

Jason shrugged his shoulders. "I think my little note with it said it all. Dick is a forgiving guy, but he does have a dark side, too. Case in point with what he and Damien put in our smoothies. However, I missed the shock factor when he opened it. Where was the revenge? Besides, I found the vibrator in my room the next morning painted just like me as Red Hood with a note that said, "Stick it where the sun never shines, 'Little Wing' — Love, D.G"

Tim snickered.

"I hate it when he calls me 'Little Wing'. He used to call me that when I was Robin."

"He has nicknames for everyone, everyone except for Bruce."

"You know what the real tragedy is in all this? He took the damn batteries out of the vibrator! I paid for those batteries! Batteries aren't cheap. Some packs cost more than a pack of cigarettes!"

Tim laughed. He turned back to the Batcomputer. "You never give up trying to emulate, Dick — eh, Jason? You either crack jokes or try to annoy people with your talkative nature."

"Lighten up, Tim. You only live twice."

"I think the saying goes: you only live once."

"Not in my case," Jason said. The remark referred back to his second-life after surviving a near-death experience at the hands of the Joker who beat him senseless with a crowbar only to be resurrected with the Lazarus Pit. "I am, in every sense of the term, a living god!" He extended his arms out wide like an angelic being.

Jason kept his arms like that for comedic effect and waited for a response from Tim. Tim turned slowly in his chair and gave him a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-look. "Frankly Jason, if you're the embodiment of a living god with everything you do, then this world is in serious trouble."

"So cruel, Tim…so cruel," Jason said.

The roar of the Batmobile suddenly filled the Bat Cave and the massive vehicle pulled up through the main access entrance tunnel and parked on the middle platform near Jason. Tim stood up from the Batcomputer to greet them.

Jason took a sip from his coffee and watched as the top canopy slid back.

Robin (Damien) and Nightwing (Dick Grayson) exited the vehicle. They had returned from night patrol.

Nightwing pulled off his mask and headed straight for Jason. "Well, good morning, Sunshine. Did you enjoy your little night of fun last night?"

Damien took off his mask, too. "Stupid ass drunk!"

"What did you say, you little hobgoblin?" Jason started, sneering.

Damien smacked his lips with his patented 'tt', but Dick hushed him before he could respond to the name calling. "Jason, you caused quite a ruckus last night at that bar we found you at," Dick said. "Luckily we were in the area to smooth things out with the owner and call you a cab to the Manor."

That was one mystery solved, how he got to the Manor instead of his apartment. He sipped his coffee indifferent of the information. "I don't remember much of last night. Enlighten me."

Damien sat down in chair next to Tim and whipped off his gloves. He threw them to the floor angrily, and then began: "Then let me lay everything out for you, you drunken fool. From reports, you made a complete ass out of yourself! From chattering up an array of women — one of whom had a boyfriend the size of Bane — to engaging in rude loquacious behaviour on the dance floor with others. You even said to one women, and I quote: 'Come back to my apartment, baby, and I'll lick the glitter off her perfectly shaped ample apple of an ass!"

Tim couldn't help snickering and put a hand to his mouth. Even Dick had a hard time keeping a straight face.

Damien continued without even cracking a smile. "Then, after she rejected you, we were told you threatened the bartender with bodily harm if he didn't keep serving you drinks even though you were way over the legal limit. And then, when an off-duty cop in the bar tried to intervene, you assaulted him who wanted to arrest you. That was when we walked in after intercepting a call to the cops from the bar-owner, and Nightwing convinced the cop otherwise, and even personally vouched for you, saying you were a close friend of former Officer Dick Grayson. Apparently Grayson's good name still has clout even outside of Bludhaven after all the good he did there."

Jason's eyes blinked, as if desperately trying to recall what Damien was telling him.

"Oh, and, not to mention the bar bill — which Nightwing paid for. How the hell did you manage to rack up nearly a thousand dollars worth of booze? You need an intervention."

Dick laughed. Damien's dry version of the story was beyond funny. But the boy looked disappointed, upset, and Dick noticed. "Stop brooding, Damien. Just because nothing exciting happened other than the incident at the bar, you shouldn't take out your frustration on Jason. For once, it was a quite night."

Jason and Tim shared a glance, then Jason said, "Damien…Was Dick bored tonight?"

Damien didn't mince words. "Yes, he was! And he wouldn't stop telling me bad jokes. And if I ignored him, he'd hug me, telling me I was 'cute little panda' or something like that." Damien shivered. "Chilling, to say the least."

Dick pouted.

"You never ignore Dick, you know that Damien, or he will get annoying," Jason said, and Tim nodded agreement.

"Hey!" Dick protested.

"He's a hugger all right," Tim said. "And he's done it to all of us. He finds us wherever we are, anywhere in Gotham through our GPS, and doesn't stop until he gets what he wants."

"Hey now, now that's not fair!" Dick said, he put his hands on his hips. "You make me out to be some sort of stalker. I do it because we're family. I love you guys. I love my family. If you didn't like it, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it is better to give you what you want than see you unhappy, Dick," Jason explained, and everyone agreed. "It's just the way it is. You're just not yourself unless you're the happy-go-lucky-guy we all know you to be."

Dick felt hurt for a moment, but not for long. "I can't argue with that logic. But I'm glad you guys told me." He extended his arms out. "Group hug then?"

The others looked at him strangely.

Dick put his arms down. "Okay, fine. Have it your way." He quickly got serious. "Okay, everyone suit up. Full regalia, weapons, belts, masks — everything! Tim, Jason…I know you're going on patrol later, but you, too. Now!"

"Why?" Damien asked. "Are we going back out?"

Dick wiggled a finger from side to side. "Nope," he said with a slight sly smile. "Everyone get dressed, I'll explain later. We'll meet back here in ten minutes."

To be continued...