The Father
It was cold, and he was surprised he felt cold. It had been a long, long time since he'd noticed something as mundane as weather. As if seeing it for the first time, Bruce stared at the remnants of snow all around him and shivered. But the weather was only a temporary distraction. From his current position, he could see the Batmobile parked one block away. He had spotted it propped up on cinderblocks, three of the wheels missing, the culprit loosening the lug nuts on last tire. He couldn't believe his eyes at first. To think someone had the gall to steal from him. The boy was either incredibly bold or just plain stupid. Bruce looked down at him with astonishment, his face gradually relaxed into a smile, and then he laughed outright. With his disheveled hair and grubby face, leather vest and hobnailed boots, the boy looked like the trademark of teenage ignorance. There had been numerous police reports of tire and rim thief in Crime Ally, but Bruce didn't have the time to investigate the smaller crimes. The Gothem police force was well capable. Still he had never encountered such a young thief.
Now it was time to introduce himself.
The masked vigilante stepped off the rooftop ledge and glided gracefully to the ground. Bruce said nothing as he walked into the dark alley, nor did he give any indications of interest. Yet the boy tensed, as if sensing danger. The boy stood up and slowly backed away to the other side of the Batmobile, bracing himself. The boy's eyes never left his as he approached, by the time they stood only a few yards apart, the battle lines had been clearly drawn.
Bruce smirked, "Well finish the job, boy?"
The boy remained still watching him with an oddly grave intentness. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the child smiled, showing all his teeth. "Who says I took 'em?"
"What else is the tire iron for?"
The boy's eyes narrowed.
"Big fuckin' deal! So you caught me. What are you going to do, call the police?"
"I don't think so. They'd probably be more interested in me than you."
The boy seemed to consider this for a moment, and then he slowly came a few steps closer. His face pale, but his icy blue eyes shinned. Bruce stared into those eyes, and saw nothing but himself.
"You will put my tires back on." he ordered sternly.
Unfazed, the boy stood his ground. "And if I don't?"
Bruce towered over the young boy; his mask did little to hide his scowl.
The boy simply laughed. "If you're trying to scare me, you're fucking it up."
"I'll do more than scare you." Bruce said.
The boy laughed again. "You gonna' send me away to one of those juvenile delinquent centers. Well, that's not going to work. Help all you want, but I always end up back here."
"You want to live on the streets?
"This is my turf. This is all I know. I don't want to be a charity case."
Bruce remained silent, contemplating his words.
"What is your name?" The detective asked.
The question caught the boy off-guard.
"J-Jason." The boy said timidly. He considered giving him a false name briefly, but realized how meaningless that would be.
"Jason Todd."
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Music: The Father OST- Let the Right One In.