AN: Wanted to post this earlier, but I had finals and I kept editing this over and over. I had an end goal, but too many ideas on how to get there. It's twice as long as my first chapter but still manageable. You can do it! Some said this should be in the crossover section, and I did think about it, but hopefully, you'll see in a couple of chapters why I didn't. Also warning to those who don't like swearing, sorry but y'all know who this is about and swearing is pretty much in his DNA. And I wrote his thoughts throughout the chapter, but there's no special marking. You'll know them when you read them. Again, don't own these characters as much as I wish I did. Enjoy!

"Rise and shine!"

The man hanging from the ceiling startled from the cold water thrown at him. He blinked a bit to clear his vision and take in his surroundings. It was some abandoned apartment on Crime Alley on 58th and Washington. Probably the one that had the fire based on the scorched marks on the wall. If it were anyone else hanging there with their feet barely touching the ground, they would be completely lost and confused. But knowing Gotham like the back of your hand since childhood comes in handy.

"Alright, buddy, time to answer some questions." Oh right. The man shifted his gaze to the piece of filth who "accidentally" found him snooping in his office a couple of blocks over. Carlos Orlando. Sex trafficker. What a disgusting son of a bitch. Wait. Stop. Don't go down that road. You've been doing good, don't let this fucker mess it up. He shook his head and decided to focus on something else. Two guards in front of him. One behind. Wow, they really underestimated him. Then again, he wasn't in his normal attire to signal that he is a threat. Nope, just an ordinary red hoodie, which was kinda ironic the more he thought about. The only reason he didn't go after Orlando directly, guns blazing, was because the man knew he pissed off the wrong person in Gotham and went into hiding. So, by going undercover, he dragged the son of a bitch out from whatever hole he was hiding in. He was roughly pulled back to the situation at hand. Literally. Orlando approached him and grabbed his raven hair, yanking up. He grimaced, not from the pain, but from the thought of all the girls he probably did this to. The thought made him want to punch the garbage in front of him till he was unrecognizable. No. Can't do that. He saw Orlando's mouth moving and realized that he wasn't paying attention to whatever was being said to him. Well, not complete attention. Due to all his training, he's never not paying attention, more like feeling like he's underwater. Aware, but distorted. Still better than the average person, though.

"-in my office. So, tell me. What the fuck did you think you were doing, kid?" Orlando spat, slightly unnerved by the turquoise eyes watching his every move. Kid? He's not that young. Then again, he's heard people call the golden child kid and Dick's older than him.

"Just wondering how a motherfucker like you decorates. I'm looking to redo my living room and I thought, 'You know what? I really want to do for the disgusting waste of space look. I'm sure that'll tie the place together.' So, any thoughts?" He smirked at how red Orlando's face got from anger. Not his fault it's so easy to insult him. Orlando let go of his hair roughly before bringing his fist back and punched him in the side of the face. He rotated his jaw, but other than the initial sting, everything was fine. Either this guy was holding back or he's just weak. Let's go with weak.

"Think you're some tough guy, eh? Won't be so tough after I'm done with you. Boys," he called. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw one of the guards step forward, cracking his knuckles. He internally groaned. So, we've arrived at stage 3 of the plan. Step 1: get caught. Check. Step 2: piss off moron. Check. Step 3: get beat up by goons. He hated this part of the plan the most, but it had to happen, so he could get to the rest (Step 4 was let moron say his plan and whatever other information he needed as all other morons do. Step 5 was to break out of restraints, which was technically already done since the idiot used rope and he slipped out once he was conscious enough to do so, just had to make it look like he wasn't. Step 6 was easy. Kick everyone's asses). He'll admit, not the best plan he's made, but it'll get the job done. Then, he saw another guard held a rusty crowbar. Oh hell no. Memories already started playing in the back of his mind like a fucking home movie. Screw the plan, definitely not doing that again. New plan: skip Step 3 and 4 and go directly to 5.

He dropped from the ceiling and moved towards the unarmed guard first since he was closest. He sidestepped the punch, grabbed the wrist, and wrenched it behind the burly man, pushing him forward right as the other guard swung the crowbar. The guard he was using as a shield doubled over at the impact and no time was wasted moving on to the next opponent. He kicked the crowbar out of the guard's hand and caught it before it hit the floor.

He swung the crowbar into the side of the man's head with enough force to knock him out, but not kill him. Before the guard hit the floor, he threw the crowbar at the last guard, forcing him back. The guard tripped over his own feet and by the time he recovered, he felt an arm around his neck, pressing a pressure point in his neck that very few knew about. With all three guards down in less than a minute, he stood up, grabbing the crowbar. The best place for that was in his hands where he had control over it.

Orlando pulled out a gun and aimed it at him. "Not another step," his voice shaky. Aww, he's scared. Good. He should be. For the second time, he threw the crowbar, but this time he didn't aim for the asshole in front of him.

"Ha, you missed."

"Did I?" he smirked before quickly disarming Orlando, tossing the clip to one side of the room. If he kept it, he might be tempted to empty the bullets into the man. As much as he wanted to do that, it would only cause more problems than the scumbag's worth. Instead, he pushed Orlando to the newly broken window (thanks crowbar). With just one hand on the collar of Orlando's shirt keeping the man from falling, he began questioning.

"Where are the girls?"

"Listen, man, you don't have to do this."

"You gonna make me ask again?"

"Please man. You want money? I got money. It's in—" he let his hand slip slightly, extracting a scream from the piece of filth. "Okay okay. They're in the basement, just please don't kill me!" Orlando's eyes widened at the growing smirk on the man's face.

"Oh, Carlos. I'm not gonna kill you." He paused at the sigh of relief that came from the other man before continuing, "I'm simply gonna break several of your bones and if we're lucky, put you in a coma." He let go and Orlando shrieked as the concrete came closer and closer.

He headed down the stairs and quickly found the basement door. No lock and no guards. He thought it odd that Orlando brought him to the place he kept the girls. Maybe it was a trap. Unlikely, Orlando wasn't smart enough for that. He opened the door and had to take a step back from the sight. All of them were dead. Some necks were broken, others choked. There were even a couple of girls with stab wounds, eyes glazed over as they stared back at him. Well, this explains the no locks or guards.

He felt unbridled anger build up in his chest and he wanted nothing more to slam the son of a bitch's skull into the ground repeatably. Screw Bruce and his rules. Men like Orlando deserve to die very slowly and painfully. A small voice of reason in the back of his head told him to calm down, breathe, and that justice is more important than vengeance. He let out a breath of air before moving forward, checking for survivors just in case he missed something. Unfortunately, no. He placed a call to the GCPD and headed out.


He's been sitting on the edge of his safehouse's roof for a couple of hours before his phone interrupted his thoughts. He ignored it and continued replaying the events of the night in his head. Immediately after leaving that basement, he shed the hoodie and went back to his nightly rounds in an attempt to get the sight of those women out of his brain. It didn't work. All that happened was criminals got hit a little harder than necessary. The phone rang again and this time he actually picked up. He groaned before taking off his red helmet when he saw the Caller ID, immediately regretting his decision.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"Wow, nice to see you too, Jaybird." A cheery voice responded, too cheery if you ask Jason.

"First of all, Dickhead, technically we can't see each other—"

"Really, you're gonna go down that road. Okay, Tim."

"Do not compare me to that caffeine machine."

"Nice rhyme Dr. Seuss."

"That wasn't even… you know what, never mind. Second of all, is there a reason to why you're calling? Besides, of course, referring me to other people."

A chuckle was heard on the other line before "I can't call to just see how my little bro's doing?"

"Oh, I see. You don't want anything, he does. Well, whatever it is, the answer's no."

"How in the world could you have possibly known that?!"

"Didn't. Had a hunch, which you just confirmed." He couldn't help the smile as he heard Dick groaned.

"Dammit. Any woo, meet me in about 10 minutes. You know where. And before you say anything, this is non-negotiable." Jason sighed. He knew if he didn't meet Dick then Dick would come to him, making the unwanted interaction inevitable, but hey, he could at least try to get out of it first.

"Dickie, I really don't—" A crunching sound behind him made Jason stop talking. Turning around, he saw a pale creature holding a glowing weapon, pointing it directly at Jason. Oh right, he forgot that there was an alien invasion happening. When he first heard about it, he immediately dismissed it due to the fact he was very well aware that the group of goody-two-shoes would take care of it. But, they weren't here at the moment. And this thing was. He stood up slowly and reached for his own gun… which wasn't there. Shit. He didn't take them with to deal with Orlando and he didn't grab them after either out of fear of accidentally losing control out of anger. Hell, he didn't have anything besides a knife hidden in his boot and a couple of shuriken in his jacket. Well, this will go great.

"Jason? Jason? You there?" The alien's head tilted to the side at the sound coming from his phone and made a noise that honestly reminded Jason of the alien from the movie Alien.

"Dick, I'm gonna have to take a raincheck. Bit preoccupied," he whispered.

"Is everything alright? What's going—" Jason ended the call, cutting Dick off. The phone rang again as Dick tried to reconnect, prompting the alien to screech and shoot the weapon. Tossing the phone, Jason rolled to the side, barely missing the beam of light that shot out at him. Before he could do anything else, the alien dropped the weapon, went on all fours, and ran towards him.

"HOLY SHIT!" Jason yelled and grabbed his knife just in time as the alien slammed him to the ground. He used one arm to keep the snarling mouth away from his face (which, unfortunately, he only had the domino mask on after taking off the helmet to talk with Dick) and the other to slam the knife aggressively into the creature's abdomen. It froze, and Jason pushed the alien off him while pulling out the knife, backing away to the other side of the roof. He waited for it to come at him again, but the alien stayed where it was, unmoving. Well, he thought, that was anticlimactic. Spoke too soon. A force behind him knocked him to the ground and he found himself pinned underneath another alien. The knife was knocked from his hand, but that didn't mean he was going down without a fight. He punched the side of its face, but nothing happened. The creature's jaw unhinged like a snake and moved closer to his own face. Seriously, what was it with aliens and trying to eat his face? Jason used his feet to kick the alien away, allowing him a small window of opportunity. He pushed himself upwards and managed a few steps, throwing the ninja stars to try and slow the thing down, but to no avail. In fact, the alien threw one back and it nicked his arm, but nothing too serious. All it did was provide the creature enough time to move closer to Jason. He was running out of time. There was one thing he thought of, but it was a long shot. It probably wouldn't work at all. The alien most likely wouldn't count as pure evil nor does it have magic. However, since he didn't really have a choice, he went for it.

Jason closed his eyes and focused on the weapons he earned during his time with the All-Caste. He felt the soul-powered blades start to form (would you look at that, guess it is pure evil) just as a small blast of who-knows-what hit the alien. He instantly opened his eyes to watch the alien turn away from him, head facing the sky while shrieking. Whatever hit it allowed gave him a window of opportunity that he wasn't going to pass up. He quickly moved away to the other side of the roof to where his helmet was, picking up his knife along the way.

Jason watched as the alien snarled before vanishing. Wait. Did he see that right? No, he definitely did. One second the alien was there, saliva dripping from its jaws, next it was gone. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Oh, that would explain things.

That being the hovering being in the sky whose eyes faded from bright red to normal, regular eyes. His red cape billowed in the wind as he slowly made his way down to the roof dramatically. Jason tipped his head back and groaned, "You have got to be kidding me."

Superman walked towards the young man, who sat on the ledge and watched his every moment closely. The Kryptonian noticed and put his hands out to show he wasn't a threat. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm here to help."

Jason couldn't hold back the snort that arose from Clark's words, causing the new alien to frown slightly. He opened his mouth to respond when three more figures joined them.

"Hood! Are you alright? What happened? Oh my god, your arm! Does it hurt? Are you okay?" Jason rolled his eyes before turning to face his predecessor. "Wing, I'm fine. You can stop acting like the mother hen that you are." He had to admit he was glad that Dick used his alias since he didn't know if Bruce told the other two in front of him his real name. He hoped not, otherwise, there's gonna be some problems. Speaking of, Bruce stood in between Superman and Wonder Woman, eyes inspecting the wayward young man for injuries while also trying to appear unconcerned. He looked like he wanted to say something but chose to remain silent. That was perfectly fine with Jason. He turned his attention to the other founders of the Justice League.

"So, what the hell brings you guys to Gotham?" He tilted his head as he waited for a response. Diana and Clark glanced towards each other, unsure on how to proceed. They both opened their mouth simultaneously, but it was Bruce who spoke up. Looks like he was wrong on his previous assessment.

"We need to talk," he broke the silence. Jason couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"No? Really?" Jason's voice dripped with sarcasm as he feigned a gasp, "That's too bad because I just gonna bet Dickie here the exact opposite. But I guess it's true, the Justice League is full of surprises." He blinked innocently as he watched the rests' reactions. Clark's eyes widened at his words like he wasn't expecting Jason's attitude. Honestly, did he have any idea who he was? Diana pretended to be annoyed, but there was slight amusement in her eyes. Bruce had a disappointing scowl on his faces. Then again, when doesn't he? Dick simply shook his head with a smile on his face. In order to hide his humor, Dick turned away and pulled out a bandage roll from seemingly nowhere. How he managed to store anything in his pocketless Nightwing leotard blew Jason's mind. Dick attempted to wrap Jason's arm, but he got pushed away.

"Anyways," Diana continued where Bruce left off, "we came to propose the possibility of a partnership to fight off these aliens." Wow. Right to the point. He was expecting them to dance around the subject for a bit, but this works. Jason raised an eyebrow and turned to Dick, ready to hear how this was all some joke. But all he got was a small smile.

"I'm sorry, what? Let me see if I understood you," Jason spoke slowly, still trying to wrap his brain around Diana's words, "you guys want me to help you fight aliens? The Red Hood? Not only that, but it took three of you to ask. God, this sounds like the start of a bad joke."

"Actually, four. Don't forget me, ya know, the guy standing next to you." As if to make a point, Dick poked his cut, causing Jason to wince slightly. Dick made a face that said See? You should've let me wrap it. Jason shook his head, "You're not helping your case."

"So, will you help?" Clark asked, bringing the conversation back towards them.

"Hang on, I'm still trying to figure out what the hell is happening here? Don't you have an endless supply of superhero wannabes who can help you with this? Why me?"

"We're bringing in anyone who can help, that includes you," Diana responded. "And the sooner we're done here, the sooner we can figure out a way to stop these aliens." Jason scoffed in disbelief.

"Wait, wait, wait. You're telling me that you have no idea how to prevent this invasion. Exactly what the hell have you guys been doing for the last couple weeks?"

"We've stopped attacks around the world, however, those are only temporary solutions. We figured once we get everyone together, we can better evaluate how to deal with the situation," Clark reasoned, keeping his tone calm. Jason rolled his eyes again. Now he had bad plans, but this was a bad plan.

"How the fuck are you going to 'deal with the situation?' You are the fucking Man of Steel and you can't even beat them." He promptly ignored Dick's comment on watching his language before continuing, "So, best of luck, but hell no. I'm not helping you. You have no plan and personally, I don't feel like going on a suicide mission at the moment." The League members (well not Bruce, who remained at emotionless as ever) once again exchanged worried looks with each other. They were not expecting him to say no. Jason wasn't about to sit here and argue with them, though. He was tired and wanted to shower. As he was about to jump down the fire escape with helmet in hand, Dick's voice stopped him.

"Hey, Hood. Quick little question for ya." Jason turned to see Dick pointing to the fallen alien on the roof and he could see the raised eyebrows behind the domino mask. "How did you kill that alien with just a knife?" Everyone watched him, waiting for his answer, but truth be told, he didn't have one.

"Dickie, I don't have a fucking clue. I just kinda stabbed him and he went down. Didn't think much of it at the time, bit too focused on trying not to die." That was a lie. He was curious about how that happened. After all, when you spend years training to be the perfect little sidekick, turning off those detective skills, even for a second, is a hard task to accomplish.

"Well, this proves you should work with us. If you took this one down easily, we could figure out how to apply that to the rest of the aliens and save the planet!" Dick's grin grew with every word.

"You're forgetting the simple fact that I don't want to. Got it, Dickiebird?" Jason turned again to jump down, but of course, he couldn't get away that easily.

"Do we need to get Alfred involved?" Dick asked while trying to hide his smile. Jason shook his head in disbelief, chuckling, "Are you serious?"

"Completely." Well, that changed things. As much as he hated to admit it, Jason knew that if Alfred told him to help, he would. He loved the man to death but honestly was a bit scared of him. Everyone was, even Bruce. He stayed silent until Dick pulled out his phone with a smirk. Shit.

"Fine," he groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat, "I'll go with to hear out this bullshit plan of yours. But I'm not promising anything. Just let me grab some shit first." He didn't wait for the nods of affirmation before climbing on top of the edge. He turned to Dick right as he was about to jump down.

"Just so you know, I didn't escape me that you brought up Alfred only because you ran out of ideas. Low blow Dickiebird."

He slipped through his window and quickly moved to the bedroom. Under the bed was a metal case filled with his weapons. He switched out his knife with a sharper one and grabbed three guns. Two for the hip holsters and one just in case. He would have done shoulder holsters, but he found those restrict movement a bit. Jason made sure he had extra clips, one filled with the glowing green rock that could definitely cause Superman so damage if it came down to it. A couple of other small knives and he was good. He slammed the case closed and kicked it back under the bed. He brushed nonexistent dust off his pants, then suddenly became aware of the other presence standing behind him in the doorway. Jason knew who it was without turning around.

"Thought you were being a bit quiet. I was hoping I got lucky and we wouldn't have to talk but looks like that won't be happening." When no response came, Jason turned around to face the Dark Knight. He leaned back against the bed and crossed his arms, eyeing the man in front of him. When Bruce saw he wasn't going to get any more from Jason, he sighed, preparing himself for what's to come.

"Jason, I didn't come to argue. I just want to talk." Bruce was concerned about how this conversation was going to go. They haven't spoken in months and Bruce had been worried about his wayward son. He had had no idea if he was alright or injured. Dick would occasionally relay information back to him, but that wasn't enough. From what he could tell, Jason was doing okay. When they first arrived on the roof, he did a mental check over him and aside from the scratch on his arm and what appeared to be a slight bruise on his left cheek from probably a punch. The detective in him wanted to ask how it happened since normally Jason wore a helmet to protect his face, but he held back. They had more important issues at the time. Jason simply shrugged, his voice low.

"Well, you don't always get want you want." He moved off the bed and pushed himself past Bruce, walking into the kitchen to grab a water bottle. He took the cap off as Bruce turned around but remained where he was.

"I get that you're still upset about what happened, but—"

"Upset?" Jason cut him off, "That's a nice way to put it." He took a sip of his water as he watched Bruce watching him. He's never been gladder for his domino mask. Bruce was able to tell a lot from a person's eyes and the mask stopped him from reading Jason like an open book. Of course, Jason doesn't know it, but out of the four Robins, Bruce has always had the hardest time figuring out Jason. So, while Jason felt content, Bruce was frustrated.

"But," Bruce continued, "we have to move past that in order to do this."

Jason scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "Tell me, Bruce. Do you even know what this is? You don't have a plan. And even if you do," he said after seeing Bruce about to protest, "you gotta see things from my side. You fucked up. Not me, you. If the situation was reversed, you would have used that as leverage against me in a heartbeat." Bruce took a step forward which caused Jason to step back.

"Jay, that's not true"

"Bullshit!"

Bruce sighed and ran pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn't going great, but it wasn't the worse interaction he's had with Jason. He went to say something, but Jason was already talking again. He had to give his boy credit, he's come a long way since returning as the Red Hood. He use to be yelling at Bruce, swearing every other word, but now? Now, Jason calmed down and kept his voice even. If Bruce was being honest, it was slightly unnerving.

"Look, I held up my end of the deal. I haven't killed anyone. In fact, the closest thing I've done to killing someone was push a guy out a two-story window a couple of hours ago—"

"Excuse me?" That was Batman's voice that growled back at him, not Bruce's. Still, it didn't deter Jason.

"Asshole's fine. Not the point. I upheld my end of the bargain. Now I'm aware that we'll have to work together for whatever the hell is going on, but other than that, I expect you to hold up your end." Jason closed his bottle and put it back in the fridge before grabbing his helmet and heading back out the window, leaving Bruce before he could respond.

Bruce sighed and turned to see Dick crouched right outside. His eldest had a concerned look plastered on his face that told Bruce more than what words would have. When he passed Dick on the way out, he paused to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Talk to him. I didn't get a chance to ask and I probably won't get one by the way that conversation went, but there's something bothering him. He'll talk to you." Dick gave a sharp nod and the two headed up to the roof together. Dick noticed it, too. When they were on the phone, Jason sounded distant, like he wasn't fully there. Then on the roof, he was the same way. He almost appeared to be zoning out, but at the same time, completely observant of everything that was occurring. He saw the tenseness in his younger brother's posture, and he had the feeling it wasn't from Superman or Wonder Woman, or hell, Bruce. And the fact that his mentor noticed it too told him that he wasn't imagining things. But, Jason is as stubborn as they come. He won't share what's bothering him easily. Dick left out a breath of air and shook his head. He loved his brother, he really did. But, whatever's gonna come is not going to be easy.