Roy concluded that life sucks. At least, his did.
It was nearly eight months since he left Starling. Since he last saw Oliver, Dig, Felicity, Thea. Since the Green Arrow died in prison. Eight months of shady hotel rooms and fake IDs and whatever he could get with the cold hard cash. Eight months of junk food and fast food and sometimes, when he couldn't find a steady job, no food. And it had been two months since he dropped his disposable phone Felicity gave him in a puddle. Two months since he last heard any of their voices.
Slumped behind the dingy counter, Roy couldn't help but think of how much his life sucked. He was being a wuss, he knew that. Oliver and Dig would tell him "Man up." Felicity and Thea, "It'll all be better soon. Just hang in there." But behind the counter at a grimy, disgusting gas station, Roy felt dispirited to say the least.
He was clad with the faded blue vest that designated employees (he didn't feel motivate enough to button it up, and his Starling Rockets tee showed through), some ratted jeans that needed a wash weeks ago, and a baseball cap Felicity gave him around a year ago. A lone figure was in the store; average height, leather jacket, ratty clothes, and a craving for soda and chips. He been in for at least twenty minutes, and couldn't choose between an energy drink or an icee. Roy sighed. One minute, fighting crime and being idolized. The next, he was in this hell-hole.
A tinkling of bells sounded, and a burly man with sleeve-tattoos sauntered in. Roy went back to scraping sticker-residue off the countertop. The rustling of the young man deciding his beverage, the heavy footsteps of the macho-dude, the hum of fluorescent lighting. Roy was really starting to feel the drowsiness that came with the night shift. What was it—two in the morning? Three?
And then there was a gun in his face.
Roy nearly smiled at the familiarity, something he was so used to seeing when he was surrounded by things that were so foreign. No surprise, it was the burly guy. His square jaw was jutted out, and he was grinning. "Cash register. Open it."
Roy cocked an eyebrow. "Building. Leave it."
This earned a snicker from the robber. "You got guts, kid. If ya don' wanna see 'em on a wall, I'd open that register." Roy sighed. Was this what normal life was like for a vigilante? A confused look crossed the thug's face. Most people were probably quaking in their boots by now.
Before Roy could make his move—grab the gun with his right hand, arm with the left, slam his head into the counter—there was a sickening crack and the man was crumpling to the ground. As the large figure fell, Roy saw Beverage Guy with a gun in his hand. The butt of the gun and skull created the noise, a noise familiar also.
"In your opinion," the young man stated, "which is better. The red icee or the blue?"
Roy thought for a moment. "Red." With a confident smirk, Beverage Guy strode to the back of the store. He returned, a red icee, a pack of Twizzlers, and a pack of Camels in his hands. Roy busied himself with ringing up the items. "You're gonna take care of the body, right?" He wasn't sure what was making him so casual about this. Maybe it was years working with the Green Arrow. Maybe it was the fact that it was pitch black outside and Roy was just too tired to deal with any of this.
"Yup," said Beverage Guy. He took the Camels from the thin plastic shopping bag and whipped out a cigarette. Placing one between his lips with the ease of a professional, he slid out another one. It was thrust at Roy. "Wan' one?" he mumbled around the smoke.
Roy shook his head politely, not feeling like delving into that pain in the arse of a habit. "You seem to know what you're doing with that gun."
"And you didn't flinch," pointed out the stranger. Roy grinned. He couldn't be Arsenal, the Green Arrow's sidekick anymore. But that didn't mean he had to give up the life of a vigilante, did it?"
Roy extended a hand. "I'm Roy Harper."
The hand was met with a black glove as Beverage Guy shook it. "Jason Todd. But here in the streets of Gotham, people call me the Red Hood."
Roy sighed dejectedly. "Dang it. That was gonna be my name." Jason laughed. Up close, Roy noticed a few graying hairs close to his hairline. The guy couldn't have been any older than he was.
"How about we share these Twizzlers and brainstorm what crooks will call you as you punch them into next Sunday?" Roy thought for a moment. Stay here, in this desolate gas station that paid him minimum wage, or go with this gun-clad stranger and fight crime. Roy threw off the employees vest and walked towards the front door.
"Hey, Harper?"
Roy turned around. Jason stood, hands in his pockets and unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and looked to his feat. He was looking at the body. "Oh, yeah."
"You get the legs, I'll get the arms." Jason stuck the pack of smokes in his pocket, the Twizzlers in his waistband, and held the icee in one hand. He bent down and grabbed one of the man's wrist with his free hand.
"Why do I have to grab the feet?" Roy sighed.
"Because I'm the Red Hood, and the Red Hood doesn't grab people's feet."
"Did you just refer to yourself in third-person?"
Sitting on the hood of Roy's car (one of the only things he still had), he chewed on his Twizzler thoughtfully. "I thought Batman took care of Gotham's criminals."
"He does," replied Jason coolly, swapping between icee and cigarette. "He catches 'em and throws 'em in jail so they can get out again."
Roy glance over at his new acquaintance. "And what do you do?"
"I give them what they deserve." They lapsed into silence. Jason set the cup of flavored ice down and laid back, staring at the night sky. "Nothin' more romantic than a skeezy hotel parking lot."
"Hey," cried Roy playfully, laying back also. "This skeezy hotel is where I live. It's bad, and small, and dirty, and roach-infested, and. . . . What was the point again?"
Jason rolled his eyes. "I still don't get what a guy like you's doin' in Gotham."
"A guy like me?" Roy echoed.
Jason shrugged, breathing out a puff of smoke. "I dunno. You're too nice. Too light. Stay in Gotham too long, and that light'll go out."
Roy took a moment to contemplate this. He had heard rumors about Gotham. About its darkness and its corrupt leaders. "I can't go back home."
"Can't, or won't?" asked the Red Hood.
"Can't."
In the darkness, Roy could feel Jason frown. "Yeah. Me too." Jason wasn't Ollie. He wasn't Dig, or Thea, or Felicity, or Lauryl. He wasn't anything from Starling. Starling was the darkness compared to Barry and his team at Central City. And yet Starling was only a shade of gray compared to Gotham. "You won't last long out here if you don't do what you need to."
"I can hold my own," Roy protested.
Jason clicked his tongue. "I'm talking about killing, Harper. You ever killed before?"
"Yeah." Roy bit his lip. That had been under the Mirakuru, not of his own will. If it came down to it, could Roy take a life? "But you're right. I need to learn to survive Gotham."
Jason sat unright. His hair was sticking up in the back, making him look like a wide-eyed, happy teenage boy. Not a killer. "You askin' to be my sidekick?"
Roy huffed. "I'm not going to be anyone's sidekick."
"I did save your life back there."
"You did not," Roy protested. "I had it all under control."
"Mhm," Jason hummed. "Well, if you don't want to be my sidekick, you could always be my damsel in distress."
Roy blindly reached over and slapped Jason in the chest. The man beside him chuckled. No, Jason wasn't remotely close to anything Starling. But Roy suppose he wasn't anything Gotham, either. Maybe that would change.
So, I think that went pretty well! This is just a one-shot, but if people like it, I might continue this.
A/N #1: I haven't read any of Red Hood and the Outlaws. I merely know that these two are partners in crime at one point, and that they seem like a pretty rad duo. I guess there's RoyxJason if you squint hard enough. Also, there isn't much fanfiction with these two, so I thought I'd contribute.
A/N #2: This is my interpretation of what happens after 3x19 in Arrow. I haven't seen past this episode, so sorry if there's anything wrong here. Also, I'm simply basing Jason off of my knowledge of Batman, not anything from Red Hood and the Outlaws.
Stay awesome!
~palmtreedragons