DJG: *cowers* Please don't kill me! I know I should be working on WCG, but this plot bunny snuck up on me in the dark and started beating me with a carrot. So I reeeally needed to write this to get it out of my system! I'll get to WCG as soon as I finish transferring the next chapter from notebook-form to word document.

Muse: Excuses, excuses.

DJG: HEY, I've got some good ones. OH! Also, this story has nothing to do with the WIL trilogy.


The night was dark, with no light breaking through the heavy haze of clouds coating the sky. There was silence, broken occasionally by the sounds of a city conducting its usual shady back-alley business. However, no one bothered investigating the sounds, because this was Gotham. If the noises had been absent, one would have thought something was wrong.

The man stepped out of the darkness inside the abandoned apartment building, dark hair tied up at the base of his neck and hidden underneath the trench coat that hid the rest of him. There was no real way to tell if he was fat or skinny, tall or short. His form almost flowed in and out of vision.

Perhaps his most noticeable feature was the dark green silk that was tied around his eyes, hiding them from view. He stood there quietly, waiting for his client to arrive.

Finally, a few minutes later, she did.

"…I understand you have a remarkable ability that you are willing to rent out to anyone who can pay." she spoke, brown eyes watching the figure calculatingly while her bodyguards stood in a loose circle around her.

"Not to just anyone. I do have some shame left." the man responded in a strangely alluring voice. The woman frowned.

"Yes, yes. You also know I am a busy woman. I do not have time to waste. Will you agree to…how do you prefer to put it…'adjust', the person in question for me in exchange for six million American dollars?" As she spoke, her eyes narrowed threateningly, her voice gaining a bit of a cold edge as she gestured to two large suitcases. One of her bodyguards knelt and opened them, showing off several bundles of one-hundred dollar bills.

The man remained quiet for a moment, before stepping backwards into the shadows again. "Agreed. Please, who is my target, and what do you want them to believe?"

A manila folder was tossed in his direction, landing on the ground where he had been standing and letting a few pages spill out, revealing two photos. One was of a young teenaged boy with dark hair, staring into the camera with dull, unseeing eyes. The other was of a masked man wearing a leather bodysuit, jacket, and boots, with a blazingly crimson helmet. Clutched in his hands were two handguns, and he appeared to be in the process of leaping between buildings.

The man's head looked up. Talia Al Ghul spoke again.

"Everything you need is in the file. I will be leaving now." she murmured, before she and her bodyguards seemingly melted into the shadows and vanished, leaving behind the folder and two suitcases. Only then did the man step forward and scoop the file from the ground, flipping through it idly.

"…You have a very interesting story, Mister Todd. It is quite a shame you won't remember any of it." the man remarked flippantly.


The Red Hood grimaced, his eyes narrowed as he watched a man clad in a red ski mask hold up two too-young prostitutes, armed with a knife.

"I'm the Red Hood, and I own these streets! Since you decided to work 'em without my permission, I get to work you, too!" the man gloated, waving his knife around like a madman. The real Red Hood shook his head, before calmly shooting the man in the shoulder from his position on a nearby roof. He smirked as the impostor fell forward and screamed, before jumping down and dragging him up by the collar of his jacket and slamming him into a wall.

"Look, pal." Red Hood began, with 'pal' coming out as someone might say an expletive. "I don't like it when scumbags like you go around playin' dress-up, understand? Now take off the damn ski mask and get the hell out of here. I ever see you here again, I'm gonna give you a reason to cover your face in public, you get me?" he snarled murderously.

The man whimpered. "Y-yes…s…s-s-sir!" he gasped out, before the Red Hood released him. He immediately sprinted from the alleyway, slowing down only to tear the ski mask from his face and toss it into the street.

Jason walked out of the alleyway, pausing as the women he had saved made googly-eyes at him, murmuring thanks and other not-so-appropriate things. He blinked, surprised, before nodding in their direction. "Er…ladies." he remarked, before leaping up and snagging windowsill and climbing to the roof.

It was roughly four am, and it was time to call it a night. It wasn't as busy on his edge of town anyways. The Bat and his Birds got most of the dirty work. Jason, feeling most of that was beneath him, just stuck with protecting the ones who paid up to him. Hey, if he was going to get a cut of drug money, he might as well work for it.

He paused outside the abandoned building he stayed in, eyes narrowing. The window had been forced open, he could tell by the angle the already-broken glass panes were sitting.

Pulling out one of his guns and carefully propping his helmet against the support beam in case he needed a quick exit, he silently advanced up the steps until he was outside the door that led to his apartment. He didn't kick the door open, as he didn't feel like breaking his foot. The rest of the apartment might be shit, but he had the door reinforced with steel and several locks. It was supposed to keep people out, mainly the Bat. Then again, he didn't seem capable of using a door anyway, so the whole thing was kind of pointless.

Jason slid the key into his free hand, turning the lock as quietly as possible.

He was concentrating so hard on not alerting the person inside that he didn't even hear someone come up behind him.

"So you do live here." an unknown voice stated. Jason jumped, startled, instinctively slashing out with the key and managing to catch the man behind him in the cheek. Blood dripped off the key, while the man just stood there and made no move to attack despite his injury. The confused vigilante blinked and waited for the man to talk. When it appeared he wasn't going to, Jason spoke up.

"Er…yeah. Do I know you?"

The man shook his head. "No, no. Still, I feel it is best I introduce myself." the man made a small bow. Jason quickly took stock of the figure in front of him as he did so. Long brown hair, dark skin, Asian maybe? His eyes were hidden behind a green strip of cloth. "I am Tekiya."

"…the Japanese word for 'faker'?" Jason asked, unsure of what to make of this. If the man's name was any indication, he should probably just shoot him now and save himself the trouble of doing it later.

"Hai, yes. You are Jason Todd. Miss Al Ghul sent me here to offer you a choice…no, a gift." Tekiya said quietly.

Jason arched an eyebrow behind the helmet. "Talia sent you? What's this about? I thought she was more worried about her bratty kid now."

Tekiya smiled softly. "Miss Al Ghul has asked me to speak with you about removing your memories of being a partner to the Batman. All of it. Your death, your revival, your time as both the Red Hood and as Robin. You can start over fresh, as you say, a 'clean slate'."

Jason's eyes widened. A clean slate? Getting rid of it all? That sounded much nicer than he wanted to admit. Not having to think of Bruce's betrayal, not having to remember the Joker, not having the nightmares…all of it, gone. He wouldn't have to live as a criminal anymore. But…

It still wouldn't take the blood off his hands. It wouldn't change he fact that he'd killed people. It wouldn't bring back his parents, and he wasn't sure erasing everything back to when he was just a street brat was a good idea. Without his training, he'd only last a few weeks before he got picked off, either by mouthing off to someone with a gun like he had once when he was a lot younger, or by starving to death. It didn't matter. Besides, he didn't deserve to start over. He had brought all this on himself, so he would see it through.

Jason Peter Todd was not a quitter.

And really, what were the odds that some crazy man who appeared on his doorstep could really make all that happen, anyways? Just because he knew Talia didn't mean…

"What are you thinking of, young one?" Tekiya asked politely.

"How freaking crazy you sound right now. Seriously, are you listening to yourself? I don't know how you know all this, but I'm not buying it. Run back to Talia and tell her I'm not interested." Jason responded, pocketing his keys and pushing the door to his apartment open and making to leave.

The man's voice turned steely. "I am sorry you feel that way, Mister Todd. Unfortunately for you, Miss Al Ghul wished for me to inform you that you have no choice in the matter."

Jason's head flew up in surprise, turning to look back at the man, only to find he was gone. Great. The crazy meta who could possibly erase memories was no longer visible. He slammed the door shut and locked it, before quickly rushing into his kitchen. He reached into the drawer and grabbed a pen and the closest piece of paper-an envelope for the electric bill. He began to write quickly.

'If you can't remember anything, call this #. 273-347-1939'(1) he scrawled, before quickly scribbling something else underneath. He made a small noise of approval. The extra bit at the end was a little sentimental, but seeing as he could possibly be about to forget everything, he figured it was justified.

"Mister Todd!" Tekiya's voice seemed louder and…compelling. Jason found himself turning in surprise.

"How the hell did you get in…here…?" the teenager began to demand, before trailing off. His eyes locked with Tekiya's, the man having removed the blindfold to reveal abnormally bright orange eyes that were lacking pupils. Without warning, Jason found himself feeling tired and dizzy. He swayed unsteadily as he stared ahead, blinking slowly.

"Can you hear me?" Tekiya asked.

"…yeah." Jason mumbled. His tongue felt heavy, like he had been drugged. Why couldn't he look away? He would have gotten frustrated, but he was just too tired to feel anything besides...numb.

"Good. Now, you are going to fall asleep. When you wake up, you will not remember anything past your thirteenth birthday. You will believe that your parents died in an automobile accident years ago, and you have lived alone ever since."

The teen nodded weakly, the words making sense. 'Yeah…I'm an orphan, and I live in…um…Crime Alley. Dad…he worked for Two-Face…b-before the accident. Now I remember…' Jason blinked again, but this time, his eyes didn't open. Instead, his legs buckled and he collapsed against the countertop, smacking his head as he hit the floor in a heap.

Tekiya gave a sad smile as he retied the blindfold around his own eyes. "Wakare to kōun, Mister Todd."(2)


The light of the morning sun was shining through the blinds and onto the sleeping teenager's face. He grumbled, burying his face in the pillow while he practically hissed at the dawn for daring to wake him.

"Mrrrg…what flippin' idiot left the flippin' blinds open?" he asked no one, reluctantly sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He immediately realized this was a bad idea as his head throbbed in protest. His fingers flew to his aching cranium and held it.

"Okay, ow. Seriously, what did I drink last night?" he wondered. Again, no answer. Then again, what did he expect? He lived alone. Always had, always would. Ever since his parents had died in that car accident, he had been forced to fend for himself. It wasn't all bad, though. He was used to it.

He crawled out of bed, still yawning. He made a face as he inspected the room more carefully. This wasn't his room…it was bigger, and his posters of various bands were missing. So was the usual pile of tires in the corner.

Jason seethed. "Some creep stole my tires! I boosted those fair and square! Grr, why didn't I wake up?" He sighed, before continuing on. This wasn't the first time someone bigger than him stole his stuff. It probably wouldn't be the last, either.

He continued to inspect the room, finding nothing of personal interest. Just a bed and a nightstand. He tugged the drawer open, only to find it empty. He frowned, before throwing open the closet. The only things inside were a few pairs of old denim jeans, some too-new looking T-shirts, and a brown leather jacket. Jason thought they all looked too large to fit a kid, but to his surprise they fit him perfectly.

"Hmph. Weird." he proclaimed, before leaving the bedroom. His eyes widened as he spotted blood on the floor of the kitchen, staining the white tile. Upon closer inspection, he could see a similar spot of blood on the edge of the counter, smeared a bit. Jason pulled a washrag out from underneath the sink and began wiping up the blood. First thing Dad taught him: no matter what, get rid of the evidence.

He ran the rag under hot water to try and get the blood out. He paused, hand still under the running water as a cool breeze ruffled his hair. He blew said hair out of his face impatiently, wondering why it seemed longer today. Then he realized how bad having a breeze in your apartment was when you lived in Crime Alley. He followed it with his eyes to the far window, finding it open. Without warning, a stronger breeze lifted an envelope sitting on the counter up just enough to drop it into the sink. Jason cursed, quickly turning off the water and reaching for it. That envelope might be able to tell him whose house he was at, because it obviously wasn't his.

There had been writing on it, but it had smeared from the water to a point where it was almost illegible. "F…you ca…remember…ything, ca… this #. 22...something...dang it, the numbers all look like a bunch of twos!" he grumbled, carefully wiping off the excess water. "Then again, this is Gotham. I could see some fruit loop actually wanting a phone number like that."

He stared at the ruined message, before his eyes were drawn to a small blotch at the bottom. He squinted and had to turn the envelope to the side before he saw what it was. A small outline of a bat with a circle around it. The Bat Symbol.

"Okay, this is bad. This is so very bad!" Jason dropped the envelope like he had been burned, staring distrustfully at the image on the paper. "No way I'm hanging around here if whoever lives here is friends with the Bat!" he muttered, quickly grabbing the leather jacket and pulling on some boots that were by the door.

Fine. He didn't know how he got to that apartment, but he'd find a way back to his place. And he'd do it on his own, too.


"School field trips are a waste of time." Damian Wayne grumbled, staring into space with an expression of total disdain.

"Lighten up, Demon Child. They're better than sitting in class all day. It's either a picnic by the river or two chapters of homework." Tim Drake remarked, eyeing the disgustingly filthy water suspiciously. "Although I don't think this even counts as a river…"

"What do they even expect us to do all afternoon?" Damian asked rhetorically. He couldn't comprehend why several teaching professionals would decide taking a bunch of children to a wide open, relatively empty area with nothing but an unsanitary river was a good idea.

"I dunno. Wanna go chuck rocks at the water?" Tim asked. Normally he wouldn't have even considered consorting with either Damian or the river, but it was miserably hot and he was practically an outsider in his class because of how far ahead he was.

Damian sighed dramatically. "If we must." He reluctantly got up, picking his sweaty clothes off of his arms and groaning in disgust. The two brothers approached the dirty river slowly, before Tim knelt down and scooped up a handful of stones.

"What, again, is the purpose of throwing rocks into bodies of water? There's no point." Damian asked, accepting the few Tim had handed to him almost suspiciously.

"I dunno. It's just…fun, I guess? I don't know, quit over-analyzing everything." Tim responded, lazily tossing one in. It didn't even splash, it just hit the surface and stuck, making a sick squelching noise. "Ew…"

Damian make an unimpressed expression, before dropping the rocks into the dirt. "It's too muddy, Drake. That rock won't even be halfway down by tomorrow."

Tim ignored him. His eyes were trained on something else that seemed to be caught under the bridge nearby. He carefully stepped under said bridge, careful not to step in mud or smack his head on the stone above him. Tim knelt down, seeing the odd shape that had caught his eye. It was a leather jacket, soaked in mud and practically unrecognizable. He picked up a nearby stick and poked the jacket until he could pull it up. "Hey, Demon Child? Want a new coat?" he joked, waving it at the younger boy.

Damian made a face. "Drake, you are disgusting! Put that filth back where you found it!" he demanded. Tim turned to put it back and froze. When he had pulled up the jacket, he had removed the mud enough to see what was underneath it.

A very familiar red helmet, recognizable even when smeared with mud.

"Damian…? Call Bruce. He's gonna want to check this out." Tim said seriously, no longer worried about getting muddy as he dug deeper with his hands. He began to unearth leather bodysuits, firearms clogged with slime and clay, and one boot he remembered being a part of the Red Hood outfit.

"So, someone finally got the best of Todd?" Damian asked, his cell phone already out.

Tim frowned. "I don't think so. If Jason had gone down, whoever did it would want the power you'd get from taking down the Red Hood. We would've heard about it before now. Maybe he's adopting a new identity...or planning something else? Why else would he dump all his crap in the river?"

Neither of them had an answer to that, at least not one that made sense.


Talia Al Ghul pulled her cell phone from her pocket and put it to her ear. "I trust your mission was a success?"

"Indeed, Miss Al Ghul. The boy remembers nothing, and I have removed all evidence of him being the Red Hood from the apartment as you requested."

Talia sighed. "Good. Where is he now?"

"He just left his apartment. Shall I follow him?"

She paused before replying. "No, that won't be necessary. I have surveillance teams in Gotham that can handle it. I think the best course of action for you right now is to disappear from the city. Perhaps Bludhaven would be more hospitable?"

"Yes, Miss Al Ghul, I'm sure it would be. Nevertheless, I believe I shall return to my home country."

"Fine, fine. Good day, Tekiya."

"Same to you, Miss Al Ghul."

As soon as she hung up, she dialed the number for said surveillance team.

"I need you to find Jason Todd and follow him. Don't lose sight of him, but make sure to keep him away from the following people: Bruce Wayne, Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake-Wayne, Damian Wayne, Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin. They will not see him, hear from him, or speak to him, understand? If Jason sees you, tell him you work for his father's sister. Tell him you are private investigators hired to find him. He will believe you. Remember, he only has memories up to his thirteenth birthday, so he will be easy to fool. Don't offer to take him to see me, wait for him to ask. I do not want this to be a kidnapping, merely…a familial visit. Once he's here, I'll make up some story to keep him satisfied until I can show him to Bruce. Can you do this for me?"

"Yes, ma'am. Tracking the target now."


(1) Batman's first appearance was in Detective Comics #27, Batman's origin is first shown in Detective Comics #33, and is later fleshed out in Batman #47. Also, Batman's first appearance is in 1939. Thus, the meaning behind the phone number.

(2) "Goodbye and good luck, Mister Todd." Tikiya is from Japan instead of Spain like I originally planned. I know that's cliché or whatever, but my Spanish to English dictionary is so outdated that I went with Japanese because my Japanese to English dictionary is, like, 40 years more recent. I don't trust Google Translate. :P

DJG: Well, here's hoping no one kills me for not focusing on WCG. I'm sorry, I just couldn't get this idea out of my head! Also, Tekiya is my first (if not somewhat pitiful) attempt at an OC. I try to avoid them for the most part because they're scary. Very few people can write good OCs and I'm probably not one of them, so if it turns out he does suck and I get flames about how badly he sucks, I'll remove him from the story. And on a more cheerful note, please read and review!

Muse: Reviews are the kittens to my Damian!