This is just a little plot that was been plaguing me forever. Maybe it's stupid, idk.
Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice. Just Talon.
"Not so fast." A sharp object came flying out of nowhere, knocking the gun from Jason's hand and pinning it against the wooden telephone pole. The tip of the blade just barely sliced Jason's finger, ripping a slit in his glove and prompting a thin line of red to rise to the surface of his skin. Jason whirled around, teeth gritted with frustration beneath his crimson colored mask. He half expected to see Batman descending from the shadows, but instead of an imposing figure in a cowl and cape, the object – which Jason then realized was a knife, not a batarang like he'd assumed – had been thrown by a teenage girl. She was dressed in all black, with her dark curly hair piled on her head in a loose bun. She was frowning at him, her lower lip protruding in a pout.
"You got a problem with my killing him?" Jason snapped, voice gruff. He kicked the man propped against the telephone pole beneath Jason, eliciting a groan from the bloodied figure. The former Bat had hacked into the police files, and found one on this man. He had been wanted for multiple counts of sexual assault, petty theft, and attempted murder – in other words, he was basically a shitbag who didn't deserve to walk the Earth. At Jason's question, a slow smile spread across the girls face. She moved forward quickly, shoving Jason aside before he could react. The dark haired teenager stumbled, grunting, and raised his hand to hit back. Girl or no girl, no one shoved him around. But what she did next made him freeze.
In a movement so fluid that it seemed perverse in the manner it was being used, the girl had flicked another knife from her belt, painting a red smile across the mans throat in a single motion. His eyes were wide with panic as he spent his last few moments of life choking on his blood. The girl straightened up, wiping the blood off the knife on her pants, just above her knee.
"No problem with his death," she said, finally answering Jason's question. She turned towards him, face set in a frown. "But he was my kill. Not yours." Jason stepped forward, inexplicably drawn in by her high cheekbones and full lips. Her skin was the color of brown sugar. Her voice was melodious, her facial features delicate. Almost everything about her preached sweetness and purity - everything except her eyes. They were dark and angry - her eyes were that of a killer, of a human so plagued by demons that they were nothing but a broken shell of what they used to be.
Looking at her, Jason was nearly certain that she could and would kill him the instant he let his guard down. The knife she'd thrown at his gun had been deadly accurate. But for some reason, she intrigued Jason. Eyes are the windows to the soul, he thought. He pulled off his red mask, and then his domino mask underneath, revealing his own face. He looked nothing like her, and yet, their cold and empty eyes could have been a mirror image of one another. By the girls intake of breath, Jason knew that she knew it, too.
Jason had found a kindred spirit.
Her name was Althea. She was fifteen years old, a little younger than he, and she had been living on the streets of Gotham for almost a year. She told him all this only after he'd spilled his guts to her - his death, his resurrection, and his fury. The two of them were drinking coffee, sitting on the top of an apartment complex with their feet over the ledge of the roof as they talked.
"What do you call yourself?" She asked. Jason stared at her, confused. He'd already introduced himself.
"Um…Jason?" Althea rolled her eyes, gesturing to the red mask lying next to the two teens.
"When we're working, idiot." Jason had only known her for a few hours, but he was quickly learning that she had very little patience. He let himself be briefly warmed by the use of 'we,' but quickly shut down his happiness. It might mean nothing, he reminded himself.
"Oh. Nothing." The girl shook her head disparagingly, clicking her tongue.
"Well, that won't do. How ridiculous to call out 'Nothing!' as a warning when you're about the get clobbered in battle?" Jason was staggered. He couldn't believe that she was talking as though they'd made plans to work together even though they'd only known each other for a few hours. He was about to ask her about that when something else that she'd said caught his attention and flared his anger.
"What makes you think that I'm the one who'd be getting clobbered?" Jason asked, annoyed. Althea smirked at him lazily, blowing the steam off her coffee.
"'Cuz I'm better," came her drawling reply. From anyone else it would have sounded childish. From this enigma of a girl, however, it sounded haughtily self-confident. Jason rolled his eyes. The two teenagers lapsed into silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "How about Red Hood?" Jason frowned.
"Red…Hood?" He remembered what they were talking about. "Oh." Then he remembered how Joker's first criminal name had been Red Hood. As usual, when Jason thought about the stupid creepy clown, little flames of anger began to lick at his inside and crawl up his spine. "Red Hood? Seriously?" He glared at Althea, who stared back unflinchingly. She knew what she'd said, clearly.
"I dunno, your outfit certainly fits the bill. Besides, it's ironic. I like irony." Jason scowled at the ground.
"But I'm not an insane clown," he muttered, seething quietly. Althea leapt to her feet. The sun had started to rise, and she was getting antsy about being out in broad daylight. Besides, she was tired.
"Of course you're not," she said, her voice slightly muffled as she lowered her own mask over her face. "You seem plenty sane to me."
Jason couldn't tell for sure if her statement was supposed to be sarcastic or reassuring.
"So, you're a with the Court of Owls? You're a Talon?" Jason asked, gesturing to the white mask that was once again hanging from her belt. She'd removed it from her face again when they'd entered a dark alley way, one too dirty and sketchy for most people to go in willingly. Something flickered on her face. It was too quick, too small for him to read if it was anger, fear, or sadness. Maybe all three.
"I'm not a Talon," she replied peevishly. "I'm Talon." She turned towards him, looking him straight in the eye. "I left the Court last year, and I have no plans of returning. I decided that I want to make the decisions on who deserves to live and die." A few years ago, that statement would have made Jason wary of this girl. Now, in a twisted way, it made sense.
"Oh," Jason managed eloquently. She shrugged, continuing her brisk walk down the alley way. Jason hastened his step in order to keep up.
"Not that it's any of your business," she added, staring resolutely forward. Jason grinned at her, stepping in front of her and catching her gaze. He had to walk backwards to do this, but the startled look on her face from his sudden mood swing was worth it.
"It is if we're planning on working together," he reminded her, leaning in closer. Althea's lips tipped up at the corners, the barest hint of white teeth showing between her plump lips.
Anyone else could have plucked the moon from the sky and presented it to Jason on a silver platter, and it wouldn't have been enough. But this barely-there smile from a girl Jason hardly knew? Somehow it was enough and more.
Soon after, the duo became a trio. Talon and Red Hood met Arsenal, the roaming ex-protégé of Green Arrow. The redhead was filled with bitterness at his mentor and at Cadmus, at Luthor and at the loss of his life and his arm. Red Hood could sympathize.
Red Hood remembered the search for the real Roy Harper that the Cadmus-made clone had instigated from when Jason had still been Robin. And now, the clone was apparently out of the game, and the real Harper was angry, alone, and addicted to heroin. Talon and Red Hood helped him get clean, only for him to become dirty again in another way. The blood from the lowlifes who crawled around Gotham and Star City that stained his hands filled him with a sick pleasure, the same way it did for Red Hood. The same way it did for Talon.
Together, the three tormented souls fought crime in their own way, on their own agenda, their own terms. They did what needed to be done, what Batman and Green Arrow and the rest of the League and the Team couldn't stomach.
Together, the three teenagers blazed a path. Their path. A path forged from the anger of betrayal. A path full of sharp edges and broken pieces, of misery and fury.
Perhaps it wasn't exactly what they wanted, but it was exactly what they needed.
Because, yeah, they weren't insane.
But they weren't quite all sane either.
This is a Young Justice fic because Jason Todd has no screen time, which means he has no personality and I could kind of take creative liberty with it. That's the only reason.