Chapter 1
Nightwing sighed as another boring patrol ended. Third night in a row now. If he didn't know any better he'd have thought he was actually making progress in Bludhaven. He swung from the roof tops, landing on the fire escape of his apartment building. He pushed open the window and slipped inside the apartment. He heaved another sigh and went to take off his mask, until-
"Hey there Dickie-bird. Long time no see," came Jason's voice. Dick's heart started hammering in his chest as he peeled off the mask, looking toward the source of the voice. Jason pushed himself up from the kitchen table and strode toward him, a blood red mask tucked under his arm. A form fitting black shirt with a red bat symbol on it, clung to his torso with a black jacket slung around his shoulders. He wore black paramilitary pants, a pair of black combat boots, and black gloves.
"Hey Dick. How are you?" he asked, smirk tugging at his lips. Dick stared at him, dumbfounded, not sure whether to be pissed or happy. Jason fidgeted a little under Dick's gaze, until finally Dick crossed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Jason's, hands grabbing the other's face. Jason closed his eyes and kissed back eagerly, one of his hands cupping the back of his neck. But the kiss ended abruptly when Dick shoved him away.
Face flushed, Dick panted a bit, glaring at Jason.
"No! No, you were gone for five years! Five fucking years!" Dick snapped angrily. Jason recovered, leaning against the kitchen table, another cocky smirk tugging at his lips.
"How dare you?! You were gone for five years, and I didn't hear a single word from you in all that time! How could you...? And the killing! You..." Dick rambled on, pacing back and forth a bit. Jason just watched him, his expression neutral. He knew he deserved it.
"You...you need to go. I can't...I can't deal with this right now! I'm so pissed at you!" Dick hissed, arm slashing through the air. Jason chuckled in amusement and pressed a black domino mask on his face as he walked right past Dick. He stopped, pressing a quick kiss to the man's jaw before donning the red helmet again.
"Sorry Dickie-bird. Just wanted to see you," he said casually, slipping out the window and disappearing into the night. Dick stood there for several moments after he was gone, in complete silence...thinking.
Jason came back. I knew he would...but five years? Why didn't he...write, or call, or...anything? God damn him!
After a year, Dick had tried to forget him, to fall out of love with him. But it never worked, nothing ever did. Even five years later, he still loved him, but five years, gone without a single word? Asshole.
Seven men and a woman sat around a table in an abandoned warehouse, several bodyguards surrounding each of them. The room was thick with the smell of tobacco smoke, but also apprehension. Nobody seemed to know who called this 'meeting' and that seemed to put them all on edge; especially considering the heavily armed bodyguards each one of them possessed. The atmosphere tensed because violence could break out at any moment.
"...You didn't set this up? Then whose party is this?" Leon demanded to know, approaching the table and pointing at each of them.
"Don't look at me. I figured it was one of you east side losers. I figured you'd finally rolled over for the Black Mask and decided to ask us in," another of the men, Freddy, answered, lightning up another cigarette. He took a few drags, blowing the smoke into the air. It got into the woman's face and she glared at him.
"Blow that shit in my face one more time, and I'll burn your fucking eyes out," she snarled.
The smoker just gave a little chuckle of amusement and replied "cool your jets, Queenie."
The large black man beside him snorted and said "roll over? The Black Mask killed six of my crew in a month. Some of them were my best men." He glanced over at the man beside him and asked "I thought it was Chi Chi."
"Don't look at me," Chi Chi replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"Screw this, I'm outta here. I don't have time for this crap," Freddy growled, pushing himself up out of the chair and slammed his hands down on the table.
"Sit down, Freddy. It's my meeting," came a voice from above. Everyone turned their attention to a figure on the catwalk above; there stood a figure whose build suggested he was in his early twenties. One hand gripped the railing while another held onto an AK-47.
"Who the hell are you?" one of the bodyguards snapped, pointing a gun up at him
"Who cares, just kill the little punk," one of the Drug Lords snapped, whipping out a gun. But before they could fire off a shot, The Red Hood fired off his assault rifle. Everyone dived out of the way as bullets pierced the table and a few of the chairs, and in a highly aggressive tone, the man said "I said sit down!" One of the crime bosses snarled, getting to his feet and pointing up at the newcomer.
"You wanna die? There's easier ways to kill yourself," he shouted furiously.
The Red Hood laughed coldly and retorted "yeah, like yelling at the guy whose carrying the assault rifle. Good job, genius." He leaned forward against the railing, leaning the rifle back against his shoulder. He glared down at the drug lords below; scum, all of them, but to clean up Gotham, he needed them. He was going to make them clean up their own mess.
"Listen to me you drug pedaling scum bags, because I'm only going to say this once," he began. He paused for a minute as the crime bosses below sat back down at the table, turning their attention on him. He took a small bit of satisfaction in their angry glares, part of him glad he'd earned their ire.
"Good. Now, I have a business proposition for you. You eight are the most prosperous street dealers in Gotham. But like most of the trash in this city, you have one small problem," he began. The woman snorted and said "the Batman."
"I'm the Red Hood, and what I'm offering you is this; protection from the cops, Black Mask, and of course from Batman. In exchange, you will give me 40% of your profits," Red Hood pushed himself up off the railing, leaning his rifle against it instead.
"That's a lot more than your current handler, Black Mask ever lets you see. My protection extends only to Gotham, so keep it within the city. You will not deal to children. Stay away from schoolyards and playgrounds. If you do, I'll know about it," he said, standing up straight.
"And I'll personally blow your fucking brains out. And don't think I won't."
The eight of them exchanged glances, then one of them looked up and said "a generous offer, but why the hell would we take orders from some punk kid?" Red Hood knelt down and hefted up a duffel bag and tossed it onto the table. The bag landed with a thud and attracted the attention of everyone in the room.
"That's why." Red Hood said nonchalantly. The eight crime bosses exchanged glances, then one of them slowly reached toward the bag and unzipped it. They looked inside and found a bunch of severed heads. One of them doubled over and threw up all over the floor.
"The heads of all of your lieutenants. I accomplished that in two hours. Now, use your imagination and picture what I could accomplish with an entire evening." Red Hood leaned back against the rail behind him, hefting the gun over his shoulder.
"I'm not asking you to join me. I'm telling you. You're either with me, or with them," The Red Hood said smugly, gesturing toward the duffel bag. The drug lords fidgeted nervously and Freddy rubbed his throat with a nervous look.
"Oh, and spread the word, will ya? The Red Hood is back," the man said smoothly.
The eight drug lords exchanged glances, realizing they didn't have much of a choice. A few of them actually seemed to recognize The Red Hood's name.
One of them, Freddy, turned to him and said "The Red Hood? You're the guy that took control of some gangs five years ago, aren't you? Went after the Joker and got your ass kicked by Batman."
Freddy was grinning, and the Red Hood decided he did not like that, because he fired his assault rifle at the man again, quickly pulling out a hand gun and putting a bullet in one of his bodyguard's skulls, just as he was about to shoot. Freddy shrunk backward at the gunfire and Queenie punched his jaw.
"You're a fucking idiot, trying to get us all killed."
"At least one of you has common sense," The Red Hood said with a laugh. He glared down at Freddy and said darkly "yes, that was me. But I've had five years to learn from my mistakes. The offer remains the same; join me or, die. Next time, I won't miss Just ask your bodyguard over there." He nodded toward the dead bodyguard with a hole in his forehead, bleeding out on the floor.
"Fine. Sounds like we have a deal," Queenie said. They all looked back up to the catwalk to their new boss, but he was gone. They eight drug lords and their bodyguards exchanged glances, wondering exactly what they'd all gotten themselves into...
The Red Hood stood on top of the building, arms crossed, staring at the sea of lights that was Gotham. Five years had passed since his botched revenge attempt, and though his anger at Bruce had simmered a bit, he was still angry, but seeking revenge against the clown wasn't on the agenda this time. No, cleaning up Gotham was, but if the clown happened to make an appearance, well, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to splatter his brains all over a sidewalk.
Bruce sat in his study, a grim look on his face as he thought about the information Dick had just shared with him; Jason was back, and from the sounds of things, he was still running around in his old Red Hood persona, with some improvements, it seemed. He didn't want to fight with Jason again, he just wanted his son to come home, he wanted to help him.
But he knew, if Jason was back and still the Red Hood, things were about to get ugly in Gotham and the bodies were going to start piling up. Regardless, this could be his second chance, to talk to Jason, to help him, truly this time. It hadn't gone so well last time, but he held out hope, that these last five years had helped him mature, made him more level-headed. It was a small hope, but a hope nonetheless.
He viewed Jason's kidnapping, his torture, his turning into The Red Hood, as his fault, his greatest failure. The creation of the Joker couldn't compare, because Jason was his son. And he felt like he'd failed the boy.
"Don't be too hard on yourself," came Dick's voice. He looked up to the doorway to see Dick leaning there with a smirk on his face.
"I can tell what you're thinking by that look on your face. I'm just as guilty as you are," Dick said softly, coming to sit in a chair across from him.
"I ignored his call, remember?" Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"This is going to be hell, isn't it?" Bruce asked. Dick sighed and gave a nod.
"It is. But maybe things can be different this time," Dick offered, shrugging his shoulders and flashing a smile. Bruce eyed him for a few moments, admiring his optimism. Dick always was optimistic, even in the most serious moments. He was his opposite in every way.
"So what brings you here, Dick?" Bruce asked then. Dick frowned for a moment, digging his phone out of his pocket and eyeing it for a few moments. He knew the answer, but Bruce might have found it...silly.
"If Jason is here, I want to be here too, to help," Dick answered, pocketing the phone again. He looked up at Bruce who seemed...amused. Dick frowned and asked "what's wrong with that?"
"You still love him, don't you?" Dick snorted and waved his hand dismissively.
"That has nothing to do with it," he lied.
Bruce chuckled in amusement and replied "I notice you didn't deny it." Dick twitched, then glared at him.
"You're an ass."
"Whose an ass?" came Tim's voice. Dick turned around and spotted the raven haired teenager, dressed in a pair of blue track pants and a form fitting white muscle shirt. He had a towel draped over one shoulder and a cold water bottle pressed to his forehead.
"Dick, hey!" Tim said cheerily, when the older man turned around. Dick smiled at the boy and got to his feet, pulling him into a hug.
"Hey Timmy, nice to see you," Dick replied. Tim grinned and punched him in the guy, playfully.
"First, don't call me 'Timmy', and second, you need to visit more often! Don't get to see you too much these days," Tim replied. Dick frowned a bit, quickly replaced with a smile as he ruffled Tim's hair.
"Sorry baby bird, but I've just been really busy, between my police work and being Nightwing," Dick complained, shrugging his shoulders. Tim snickered and playfully jabbed Dick in the side with his elbow.
"I guess I'll have to come visit you then!" Dick chuckled and ruffled Tim's hair again.
"Hey Tim, Bruce and I nee to have a chat. Would you mind?" Dick asked. Tim just flashed another smile and left the room.
Dick turned back to Bruce and said "as much as I hate to say this, I think it'd be best if we keep Tim away from Jason. I know Jason won't kill him-" Dick was interrupted when another person made their presence known.
"Well, it's practically a family reunion," came Jason's voice. Bruce jumped up from his desk and Dick spun around on the spot. Jason was wearing his Red Hood gear, standing a short distance away from the office doorway.
"Jason," Dick breathed. Jason chuckled in amusement and pulled off the helmet.
"How did you get past security?" Dick asked.
Jason shrugged and said "Bruce trained me, remember? And I've added to that over the last five years. Really, I'm offended you sound so surprised."
"Why are you here?" Bruce asked. Jason frowned, then donned the helmet again.
"I'm here to clean up Gotham. And I'm here to warn you; don't get in my way."
"Or what? You'll kill us?" Dick asked sharply. Jason was silent, having no answer to give. Before anyone could react, he threw down a smoke bomb and disappeared when the smoke cleared.
"Well, he still knows how to make an entrance. And an exit. I'll give him that," Dick said with a shrug.