It was a dark and snowy night, but hey this is Gotham, and if it had been bright and sunny, Jason would have been in serious shock-and serious pain because sunlight burns like Hell.
It was pretty cold out, but he couldn't feel it. One of the benefits of his "condition", which brought to mind one of the downsides: He could taste the smog that covered the city. And it tasted foul. The second the snow landed on the ground, it turned a dirty, gritty, gray. No wonder Superman avoided Gotham. Metropolis had been so much cleaner.
The metal fire escape he was sitting on creaked. Probably not built to code, He thought, Gotta love cheapskate contractors. He stood up. The fire escape creaked again, and shuddered. Jason jumped off, landing lightly on his feet. Good thing too, it sounded and looked like it was gonna collapse any time soon.
Jason took a deep breath, deliberately inhaling the scent of the city. He smelled blood, ash, smoke, and shit. Yeah, this is Gotham, alright. It felt good to be home. He'd been gone, what was it now...? Five or six years? Gotham had never changed; it was still dark, still creepy, still infested with criminal scum.
He could hear the sounds of violence clearly; pleas for help, the sound of guns being cocked and fired, the thud of punches. The Robin in him demanded he race into action, demanded he give everything he could to save the innocent and punish the guilty. He'd thought that part of him dead, but perhaps coming home had reawakened it.
Jason stared at his hands. It was at times like this that he missed smoking, missed the calming effects of nicotine. Unfortunately, his "condition" made him extremely vulnerable to fire. I guess I'll have have to get used to dramatic, moody, inner monologues… He thought, grumpily.
Suddenly tired of sitting still, Jason jumped onto the fire escape again, onto the roof. As he leapt onto the roof, the fire escape collapsed. So not built to code, he thought, I did the residents of this place a favor. It's my good deed for the day.
Racing across the rooftops, Jason realized just how much he missed this. The best routes where all coming back to him, like déjà vu, only it wasn't déjà vu, he HAD done this before. Over that chimney, around that plant trellis, watch out for the dog the Lysons' let out. He thought, tracing the way back to the apartment he'd grown up in by memory.
He heard a sudden bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bump to the left of him. A familiar one. Someone's heartbeat. Stopping in his path, he debated it. I am pretty thirsty, he thought, but it can wait, and I'm almost there. But try as he might, Jason just couldn't ignore the lure of that steady bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bump.
Dropping into the alley, and landing on his feet, Jason spotted the owner of the heartbeat that had so attracted his attention. He could hear the music coming from her iPod, which happened to be "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", rather ironic considering her situation, and he could smell sweat, cheap perfume, sugar cookies from the box she was carrying, and underneath it all, blood. Warm, delicious blood.
Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Jason sped over to her faster then she could blink, and pinned her against the wall. She squealed in shock, and dropped the box of cookies.
In his ears, Jason heard her heart race, and he licked his lips. He could feel his canine teeth growing longer and sharper in anticipation of feeding. Just as he'd put his mouth on the skin of her neck, and was about to bite down, he heard someone race into the alley, and throw something at him.
Whirling around, he caught the projectile before it hit the wall. Inspecting it, Jason realized it was a birdarang, like the kind he'd used. "Back away from the girl, or else!" he heard a voice say.
Even if he'd never heard that specific voice before, Jason knew that tone. It was the same cocky, carefree, nothing-can-hurt-me tone he'd used when he dressed in traffic light colors and short-shorts, the same one Dick had used as Robin. Looking down the alley, Jason saw a young boy, maybe 12 or 13, dressed in a red tunic, with long green sleeves, and green pants that actually covered his legs, and a black cape with a yellow inside, holding a metal staff. The boy had a green mask with white lenses and black hair, just like him, just like Dick, just like Bruce.
Robin. A new one, because it clearly wasn't Dick. A f*cking Replacement. Bruce had f*cking replaced him. From the moment Jason laid eyes on him, he hated the boy. Hated that Replacement. Was he really so disposable? So easily replaced by another boy?
Letting the girl go (she sighed with relief and ran off, abandoning her box of cookies in the street), Jason turned to face Robin. Taking one last look, he raced off in another direction before Batman showed up and recognized him. He'd had enough blasts from the past for one night, thank you very much.
Finally stopping at the hideout he'd set up, nothing more than an abandoned apartment with a bricked-off bathroom, he sat down on the floor, and stopped to think. Think about the Replacement. About why he'd come home, and why he hadn't gone straight to the Manor.
A/n: Thank you to Dextra2 for suggesting the title, and for RenkonNairu for being an amazing beta.
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