AN: I don't own Batman, nor Jason Todd (if I did, poor Jay wouldn't have died - who cares if there was a vote back in the 80s? That was just cold, really cold...)

*Batman: Under the Red Hood is the backstory and basis for Jason Todd in this story*

Chapter 1

"I don't know what clouds your judgment worse – your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality."

– Jason Todd, Batman: Under the Red Hood

For all that made him a monster in the eyes of heroes, for all that made him who he was, for his stubbornness and his temper, there was - at the least - one thing that could be admired about Jason Todd: his strength. His strength to keep fighting, to keep holding on when life had shattered into a million pieces, his strength to never give up. The world could be destroyed tomorrow, but Jason Todd would still keep fighting. He didn't give up. Despite everything that had happened, he was determined, capable, and more than willing to take on the costs.

That didn't mean he never fell short – he fell short many times, even in his own eyes though most of his acquaintances considered him too arrogant to acknowledge flaws within himself. Jason had trained himself to display only what he wanted to, to proudly stride before the world as a brutal, heartless angel of death, when on the inside he was a heartbroken teenager longing for love and acceptance. Would he ever admit to such a thing? Hell no. He had too much pride for that, and he had learned his lesson from his encounter with Batman that night in the apartment with Joker.

Jason was, by appearances, a merciless vigilante. It was how he needed to, and wanted to, be seen if he was to make an impact on Gotham. The city had festered in its filth for too long. Batman could only do so much. If he were willing to take the next step, to do what needed to be done, then perhaps it wouldn't still be the Hell it was. But no, the dirty work of eliminating the problem had fallen on Jason.

Tonight's first problem was in the form of a drug dealer, selling his poison to innocent children. Nothing made Jason Todd angrier than to see someone harming a child. So, after night had fallen, he pulled on his uniform, covered his face with the crimson mask, strapped on his knives and guns, and left to make a difference in Gotham's criminal underworld.

He found the dealer, a man of about forty years with scraggly hair and sunken eyes, smoking on the street corner, leaning against the edge of a crumbling building. He took a deep puff, soaring so high in the clouds that he didn't notice the dark figure approaching from the shadows of an adjacent alleyway. Narrowing his eyes beneath the mask, the Red Hood pulled out and unsheathed a favorite knife from his ever-growing collection.

He had been watching this man all day, counting the number of sells he made, making a mental note of what number of sells were to misguided children and to women. Once, the man sold to a woman who was clearly pregnant. That had sparked an all new fire in Jason's already-lit heart. To do that… was just sick.

His reasons for keeping an eye on the number of women being drawn in to the drugs, was more personal. His mother, though adoptive, had died of a drug-overdose and it had always weighed heavy on his heart. To see other women, possibly mothers, putting themselves and their families in the same situation struck a chord deep within Jason.

This man had chosen to commit his sins in Jason's territory, and now he would have to answer for them to the Red Hood himself.

Keeping his knife hidden, slipped partially up the sleeve of his jacket, he plucked the cigarette from the man's hand and dropped it to the ground, making sure to stomp it hard with his booted foot. The drug-addict lifted himself off the wall, ready for a fight, too drugged to realize just who he was going up against.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jason commented, as the man made a fist. "You might get something worse in return. Actually, scratch that – you will get something worse in return."

The man's dazed eyes narrowed. "Who do you think… you are?" The man was fumbling to find the right words in a brain too shocked to give him what he needed.

"You've had one too many whiffs," Jason said, shrugging, then taking the man by surprise and grabbing his arm, twisting it so that the man's back was to him and that he was on his knees, shaking in pain as his bones threatened to break, Jason holding the knife against his throat. "You want to know who I am? I'll tell you – I'm Red Hood and you're in my territory. And honestly, I really don't like you. Do you want to find out what I do to people I don't like, especially when they're as disgusting as you?" Seriously, when's the last time this guy's had a shower? Jason wondered.

The man trembled when Jason mention the name 'Red Hood'. Even in his drug-induced state, he still remembered the name of the 'crime-lord' that everyone was so afraid of.

"Red… Hood? Listen, man… I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"Didn't know what? That you were selling to kids? That you were selling to a pregnant woman? That you're a bastard that I'm so close to eliminating, that you better start saying your prayers?"

The man whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"The word 'sorry', doesn't mean anything to me," Jason retorted.

"Please! I… I got a wife! And kids! Three of them!" The man was crying now. What a wimp.

"You do realize that what you just said, is pretty much the biggest lie in the book, right?" Jason purposely scoffed.

"No, no, I got a picture! I can prove it to you! It's… it's in my wallet!"

Jason snorted. "Do you really want to insult my intelligence again?" He pressed the knife a little deeper.

"No… please, let me go. I won't do it again! I'll… I'll leave! I won't come back! I promise!"

"I don't believe you. Too bad, so sad."

"Please! I'll do anything! Just don't hurt me!"

The man was sobbing now.

"Sorry, but the bank just called and it looks like I'm all out of fucks to give."

The man started crying even more. Jason, however, was feeling merciful tonight. Had he drunk too much, had someone slipped something into his water at his apartment? He didn't know, didn't really care, but was satisfied with the look on the man's face. He'd play nice tonight, especially since he didn't want any attention from the Bat who, by now, had probably heard of Gotham's latest pyscho – who was currently holed up not too far from Jason's place. Instead of finishing the job, he lifted away his knife before fully twisting the man's arm till a crack split the night before sending his fist into the back of his head. The man fell to the ground, unconscious.

Replacing his knife in its original place, he removed the drugs and drug money from the man's body before standing. He didn't bother to move the man – like he said, the guy was a bastard, and he didn't care if somebody found him. It would just serve to freak the druggie out even more.

The thought of that made Jason's lips turn up, minimally but still a small smile. It didn't matter how old he was, he would always love to pull stunts.

Wow, I hope I got Jason right! If I didn't, I'm welcome to comments and suggestions. It is, after all, my first time writing about him and, even if I do love his character more than any other, I could always screw-up. I do hope you enjoyed it, because I had enjoyed writing it. By the way, I hope the whole "call from the bank, blah blah blah" part was original – if it was not, my sincerest apologies. I thought it was original and funny, and typical of a sarcastic comment Jason would make. If you like this chapter and the idea expressed in the summary, press that adorable little review button. The more reviews, the faster an update.