AN: Okay, so I'm mashing in three different storylines. There's The Arkham Knight verse, Talon verse, and Red Hood verse because, quite frankly, I want Jason to have a chance to murder Joker lmao Beyond that, it's mainly the AK verse with the others sprinkled in. I'll get to the whole 'working with Scarecrow' bit later.

I know Jason isn't weak or a bad fighter by any means, he's a badass and will definitely whoop ass later. I just figure a superpowered, regenerating, murderous Dick would be more than he could handle without any prior knowledge or chance to prepare. Dick is a creepy, well, dick lmao

Their 'partnership' is going to be rough, ngl. Jason wants nothing to do with him, but Dick isn't giving him that option. It'll delve further into the 'planning on overthrowing Gotham and taking down people' next, along with Jason seeing what's on that flash drive. It will be Unpleasant™.

Truthfully, I despise this chapter with a burning passion buuut that's apparently the direction it took so...here you go.

Chapter Three: If I Had A Heart

"Pain? I know pain. Its molecular level.
It pulls at my atoms. It sings to me.
I'm ruthless, I'm poison. I'm a man with no face.
I'm fearless, i'm heartless. A ghost with no soul.
Possessed of the devil to sanctify, to consecrate"

When Jason awoke, it was with the familiar feeling of fear coursing through him. He remembered waking like this day after day beneath Arkham Asylum. It was an ingrained reaction at this point. When he was imprisoned by the Joker, being awake meant being in pain. Ordinarily, he'd coax himself down from the edge of panic by reminding himself it was over. He'd look at his room for comfort; to remind himself he wasn't there. The tremors might ease. He might only vomit once. But such comfort wouldn't be found now. The place he was in wasn't familiar. It wasn't safe. Then, the memories of what happened hit him fast and hard.

He bolted up so quickly, he nearly tripped over the chair he had been placed on due to a rush of vertigo. His heart felt like it was trying to climb out of his throat from the swift pace it beat. That feeling of intense fear only increased when he realized he'd been disarmed. No guns, no knives, not even the ones he liked to keep hidden in his sleeves. The place he was in was clearly abandoned for quite some time. It was covered in layers of dust and falling apart every which way he looked. The room was small with one door and shuttered windows all around. Another thing he noticed was the heat. It was sweltering in the room, which was impressive given the relative lack of insulation and structural instability of the place. This must be the lair of that assassin. Well, this certainly made Jason's effort to find his den obsolete.

The fear and anxiety buzzed beneath his skin like an electrical current. He felt almost ill and just a bit dizzy. This was too similar to then. At least he hadn't been restrained. That wasn't something he felt he could handle on top of being kidnapped. In an attempt to keep his composure, he paced his breathing. That was harder to do when it felt like he was choking on the past. He needed to get out of here now. Jason was betting that the door was locked, but it was old. He could probably just crash right through it. Given that he didn't know where he was, he didn't know how high up he was or if there'd be anything to catch him, so throwing himself through the shuttered window was a decidedly bad idea. Still, he'd rather throw himself out a window and hit the ground than be someone's prisoner for one second longer.

Jason nearly missed the assassin in his inspection of the new scenery. He was sitting amidst a pile of blankets, looking comically close to a nesting bird. Just a few feet away was a portable space heater pointing straight at the killer. How he could tolerate all that heat, Jason didn't know. He mentally filed away the information for further study. It could point to a weakness; probably the cold. Right now, he was a little more concerned about the fact that this thing just kidnapped him and is doing nothing but staring. Ordinarily, Jason would find the sight of the assassin peeking over a pile of blankets somewhat amusing. Right now he didn't feel like laughing.

He went still once the lean figure rose from their makeshift nest. And, god, Carmine had been telling the truth. It was unmistakeably Dick Grayson's face staring at him. But it wasn't. It couldn't be. Dick wasn't this...this thing. What Jason was staring at was a horror, a monster. It had to be someone - something - trying to mimic the acrobat. Because the alternative, that this really was his 'brother', no matter how hated, was unfathomable. Jason couldn't even begin to think of what could do something like this to the man. A curse? His brain felt too full, too scrambled with torturous memories and new discoveries to really process what he was seeing.

The assassin took a step toward him and Jason stumbled back. He wanted to keep as much space between them as possible. That was hard to do when the room was small to begin with and cluttered with junk. He hit the wall and yet the killer kept coming. His earlier attempts to calm his breathing went down the drain as his pulse picked up pace. Jason clenched his fists, sorely wishing for a weapon, anything, to hold. His eyes darted around the room in search of an escape or something he could use to defend himself. Any time his gaze landed back on a face so familiar yet so foreign, his heart clenched. He had to look away.

Jason had plenty of questions and he needed answers, but they felt stuck in his throat. That inhuman face staring at him with no expression, radiating cold and something much, much darker, kept the words down. Sure, Jason had plenty of questions, but did he really want the answers? Could he handle what he was going to hear? There was no love in those unnatural eyes. No warmth or compassion, no rage, no joy, no life. Nothing. And this was supposed to be Dick Grayson? It couldn't be. It...it couldn't. It didn't make sense. The incongruity between the creature he was seeing and how he remembered Dick to be was startling to the point that Jason wasn't entirely certain he wasn't hallucinating the whole thing. It wouldn't be the first time he saw things that weren't real. Whether or not Jason could handle the answers didn't matter at this point, he needed to know.

"Who are you? What are you? Why am I here?"

There was no answer. Talon just slipped closer on quiet feet until there were mere inches between the two. Oh, how he wanted to back away from this atrocity, but he couldn't give the assassin that satisfaction. He stood his ground and forced himself to stare into those godless eyes. Jason was a breath away from screaming at him to just answer the damn questions and maybe decking him for this whole ordeal. He felt like he was wound too tight. One wrong move and he'd ignite like ill-handled dynamite. Before he could enact any of his urges, his captor finally spoke. Just as before, his voice was but a whisper. It made Jason wonder why he never spoke any louder, or if he even could.

"You know who. What does your helmet say I am?"

If Jason had to put a name to the slight shift in his tone, he'd say the assassin was almost amused. It didn't match the hollow expression and that created a disturbing sort of dissonance. What he asked was something Jason had noticed when he first saw Talon but didn't have time to investigate. His helmet wasn't reading the other man properly. Jason thought maybe it was a weird type of tech the assassin used to keep hidden or lure out those with his sort of sensors. After all, a dead body would be enough reason to inspect and no one would expect the body to move, let alone attack them. The thought that it wasn't tech only added to the horror of the situation. It couldn't be true.

"It says you're dead, which is definitely going to happen if you don't give me some real answers."

The anger was a front, a sort of shield he defaulted to when he felt powerless and scared. It's been his safety blanket for as long as he could remember. All the way back before The Bat swept him away to his cushy manor with too many empty rooms. When he was still scrounging the streets like a starved rat. When he'd do damn near anything to get by. Jason would say that frightened and desperate little boy died somewhere in the bowels of Arkham Asylum. It was easier than admitting he still saw him in the mirror daily.

The fire in his words flickered out in the face of the murderer. Slowly, Talon rose a hand toward Jason's chest and started tapping a beat over his heart. It was a quick tempo, tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap. It took a moment for Jason to realize the man was copying the rhythm of his pulse, calling out his fear without even speaking. He felt his heart skip a beat at the realization; tap...tap-tap. Jason felt sick. He tried to shove the other man away, to escape, something. The vice-like grip suddenly encasing his arms prevented him from doing any of those things.

"I didn't answer your other question, Jason."

Hearing that thing say his name was surreal. He hasn't heard anyone say his name since...since Arkham. Jason just shook his head as if that could retract his questions. He no longer wanted to hear the answers. All he wanted was to get out of here and as far away from this beast as possible. He didn't want to see that grotesque caricature of his 'brother' any longer or hear that familiar voice lacking its warmth. It was too much for Jason to deal with. For years he's been preparing to take on his old family, but this? This isn't right. It's not part of his plan. He didn't know how to handle it. Killing Goldie was one thing, but this wasn't him. The implications that something out there truly could have corrupted the incorruptible and unfaltering Nightwing was almost frightening. He was literally pulled out of his frantic thoughts by a clawed gauntlet gripping the chin of his helmet and forcing him to look at his captor. Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

"I brought you here, little brother, because..'

Even without seeing, Jason could feel the shorter man draw closer until they nearly touched. He radiated cold, even in the unbearable heat of the room. There was nothing but silence. After another few seconds of unnerving quiet, Jason cracked open his eyes. What he saw almost made him want to crawl back to that room in Arkham. Those golden eyes were staring directly into his with a savage sort of hunger. The way he was looking at Jason made it seem like he wanted to tear Jason apart or lock him in a cage like a pet. That grotesque face was still empty of emotion, as if he could no longer form any expression. It made Jason's skin crawl. Then, he spoke in those quiet, almost ravenous tones.

'..you are mine."

Something inside Jason felt like it shattered at the sentence. The rapacious way the words hung in the air left him ready to lose any semblance of composure he had. He didn't even think as he attacked. All that was repeating in his head were those words and memories, so many memories, of another person who held him down and hurt him. There was a sickening crack as he drove an armored boot into the assassin's knee. Jason didn't look back as the injury started healing. He ran straight for the closest window.

Before he could even touch the frame, he was sent crashing to the ground. The floor creaked ominously at the force and dust flew around the room from the frenzied struggle. Had this been a fair fight, it would be close, with blow matching blow and blood pouring from both. But it was not fair. Dick had always been hard to hit. He was faster than Jason, faster than Bruce; 'by a whisker' Selina had once said. Now he moved like he was a wraith; silent and untouchable.

Miss after miss after miss. It made Jason feel all the more helpless and infuriated. Oddly enough, Dick wasn't bothering to really fight back. Jason knew he could, felt that unnatural strength in the way Talon restrained him. Instead, he just slipped around the strikes and stared. It was as unnerving as it was infuriating. Finally, he managed to land a hit on Dick's chest, sending him flying backward. Jason followed through with another hit as he yelled at the man.

"No, I'm not! I don't belong to you, or Bruce, or that fucking clown or ANYONE!"

He made no effort to moderate his voice. Jason was far past that point. What Dick said, it tore open the festering scars inside of him and drove him into a frenzy. Nobody owned him anymore. He'd rot six feet underground before he ever let that happen again, even if he had to put himself in that grave. There were things out there much worse than death. Jason Todd had come to know that harsh truth intimately.

For all of Jason's hate, his fear, Talon remained stone-faced. Jason could tell it wasn't a ruse. Dick, if this really was Dick, truly didn't care for the pain and torment raging inside the younger man and that hurt. It also made the decision to kill the bastard that much easier. Figuring out how to take him down was a whole other endeavor. He healed rapidly, as was obvious by the now uninjured leg. Not to mention his enhanced everything. But Jason's fought tougher enemies, right? There was no confidence behind that thought. Dick beat some of the best while he had been a regular human with restrictions on force and a code of ethics to follow. This was a whole new ball game and it felt rigged.

Every effort to overtake his opponent was parried with ease. The way Dick cocked his head made it seem as if he found this whole thing amusing. Quick as lightning, Dick struck his throat. It wasn't hard enough to do any real damage, but just hard enough to hurt like a bitch and make breathing difficult. Jason started gasping as he clutched his throat. He bent over in an effort to catch his breath. As he did that, Talon walked around him slowly and looked him over. It almost seemed as if he were appraising the man. Then, he hit the back of Jason's knees, causing him to crumble to the ground.

Jason fought to get back to his feet as he gasped for air. Talon was having none of that. Almost gingerly, he used a foot to turn his 'brother' over. Then, he rested that foot on the armored chest, making breathing just that much more difficult. With a casual air, Dick crouched down and hovered over Jason. That cold, empty look still inhabited his ghastly features as he stared at the mask Jason created. One clawed finger scratched down the surface, then found the hidden latches one by one. How he knew exactly where they were, Jason wasn't certain but it was terrifying. How closely had Talon been watching him?

In an effort to get away from this nightmare, Jason grabbed for one of the many knives strapped to Talon's chest. His attempt was thwarted when the assassin grabbed his wrist in an unforgiving grip and slammed it back to the ground. The angle his arm was twisted in made Jason writhe in anguish despite his attempts to maintain an unaffected demeanor. He choked back the groan filling his lungs. This damned assassin humiliated him enough, he would not get the satisfaction of hearing Jason's pained cries. Talon ripped the unclasped helmet from his head with little care and leaned closer, as if even this distance was too great. When he spoke, there was an almost sadistic edge to his soft words.

"If you don't belong to the Joker anymore, then why is he still alive?"

The downed man felt like he was choking for an entirely different reason. Just the thought of that painted freak made anxiety and fear flood his veins. He shut his eyes, feeling too much like a child trying to hide from the boogeyman. Talon continued on.

"If you don't belong to him, then why do you cry at night?"

Despite the fact that he was whispering, his words screamed in Jason's head. He struggled beneath the unmoving man, as if he could run from what Talon was saying. The assassin grabbed his tender throat and forced Jason to look into his merciless eyes.

"You're still his toy, Jason."

"No, no.."

"You ran from the asylum,'

"No, shut up, shut up-"

'but he's still your master."

"NO! SHUT UP, YOU'RE WRONG!"

Jason thrashed against his hold in an attempt to escape the words dragging him down. They crawled beneath his skin, dragging across his nerves like bits of broken glass. It hurt.

"Y-You're...you're wrong. I'm not... I'm free. Not his. Not his."

His words were ragged and gasping. Tears burned his eyes as he fought to free himself. He was always fighting for his freedom, it seemed. He wasn't the clown's, he wasn't. Talon just shook his head slowly, clearly not believing his words.

"You're not free of him. But you can be, once you kill him. So, why haven't you?"

There were too many answers to that. He was afraid. Fuck, he was still so afraid of the Joker. He wanted proper vengeance, to make it as painful as possible. Wanted to make him kill that sick freak. No matter how he struggled against the man pinning him, Jason couldn't escape. It was clear Talon wasn't moving until he got his answer. Jason licked his lips as he thought of what to say. His whole body shook from the adrenaline and emotional overdose.

"I'm not telling you. I don't know you."

That actually seemed to surprise Talon a little, if the slight pullback was anything to go by. What? Did that thing think Jason was just going to believe him because he knew Jason's name and wore Dick's face? That monster was a coldblooded murderer. He'd need more evidence than that to even entertain the idea. Like hell he'd spill what he's been working years onto the asshole holding him hostage. That's happened to him once already and that was one time too many.

Talon let out a huff of air as he finally backed off of Jason. In an odd show of civility, he offered a hand to help his brother up. Still feeling rather perturbed by his earlier words and actions, Jason ignored the hand and got up on his own. His legs felt weak and shaky beneath him, but he did his damnedest to hide it. He didn't want to show any more weakness in front of his captor than he already has. Talon lowered the proffered gauntlet and spoke again.

"You want a DNA sample? Or would you rather see what happened to me?"

There was a tone in his voice, a venom that told he was not entirely pleased with Jason's distrust. That distaste was definitely mutual. This time Jason was the one surprised. He figured there'd be some more attempts to convince him, maybe a few memories recalled. But to see what happened? If it was recorded, he'd have to analyze it to see if it was the real deal or a fake out.

"What, like a video?"

Talon turned his back to Jason, a decidedly bold move. Jason might have taken the opportunity to attack, but he had a feeling this was an unspoken test. The lax, open posture was almost begging to be assaulted. The slight curl of the gauntlets and bend of the knees told a different story. Should he make a move Talon didn't like, the killer was more than ready to strike back. No...not a test, a trap. Like hell Jason would willingly walk himself into it. Once was more than enough, in his opinion. The assassin grabbed something out of Jason's view and came back. His aloofness was apparent in the almost disinterested pace he took. He presented a small flash drive for the younger man to see.

"Exactly like a video. It's only fair. After all, I watched what happened to you."

Jason felt momentarily numb. Then, a whole range of emotions flooded him, all negative in nature. The strongest sensation was the feeling of utter shame. If he saw what happened to Jason, then he saw how Jason broke. How he begged and obeyed like a dog. Following hand-in-hand with shame was rage and horror. He could barely contain his choler.

"You what?!"

He was a hairsbreadth away from attacking the black-clad man once more, damn the odds. He had no right to watch that video. No goddamn right! Instead of reacting to his fury, his hurt, Talon just gave that amused little head tilt again.

"Didn't you know? Bruce has it all saved in the Cave."

The flash drive danced across his fingers as Talon toyed with it. Jason would have to address the fact that he somehow got into the Cave's computers another time. What was drawing his attention the most was the fact that Bruce had it all saved. Bruce saw what that...that monster did to him and still didn't save him. Jason hasn't even enacted his plan and yet he suddenly felt like he still failed somehow.

He paced across the floor as the thoughts overwhelmed him. The room suddenly felt much smaller than before. Still, Talon watched with that cool, clinical look. Jason suddenly rounded on him and held out his hand. The impatience was clear in not only his posture but by the tone of his voice.

"Give me the flash drive."

The killer looked slowly from the awaiting hand back to Jason's face. The flash drive remained in Talon's grasp. Another shake of his head had Jason ready to burst. If he had to cut off that freak's hand to get it, so be it. He needed to see what was on that flash drive. If his time in Arkham was on there...

"That's not the deal, Jason. Tell me your plan."

The fact that Talon had already scoured his various hideouts and dens to learn the plan wasn't mentioned by the stalker. He wanted to hear Jason say it. There was so much wrong with his idea and Talon would make him see it one way or another. Jason let out an agitated sound and resumed his pacing.

"I'm gonna make him do it. Make him kill the Joker. He won't have a choice. Then, I'm going to bring Gotham to its goddamn knees."

Talon shook his head in disagreement. They both knew Bruce well enough to know no one could force him to do anything. He's stubborn enough, and intelligent enough, that he always seemed to find a way around the problem.

"He won't do it."

There was such certainty in his voice, one could almost assume he'd seen the future. That was a deep-seated fear of Jason's; that Bruce would turn his back on him again. But, he wouldn't choose that subhuman piece of garbage over his son. He couldn't.

"He will."

A noise of disgust left Talon's throat at that. It was clear he had a very different perspective on their adoptive father's priorities. When he spoke, there was a disparaging tone to his voice, making Jason feel almost foolish in his planning.

"And why's that? Because you ask nicely? Because you're his son? You were in Arkham. I was in the sewers. And yet, the World's Greatest Detective still couldn't find us? In Gotham? He doesn't care, Little Wing. He replaced you and me. He'll never care enough. Not more than he cares for his code."

Jason's pacing stopped dead as the words circulated his brain. They seemed to weigh each limb down like an anchor. That's what the dark voice in his mind told him every time he thought about the plan. Bruce didn't care. Bruce replaced him. Bruce would never choose him. Talon finally stopped twirling the small memory stick and moved closer to the overwhelmed man. His voice was soft as ever, but there was a sharp, sharp edge to it.

"You need to kill the one who hurt you. You need to kill the Joker. Then, we can take Bruce."

At the feeling of something being pressed into his hand, Jason glanced down. Talon gave him the flash drive without issue. He felt totally overloaded at this point; like every last cell in his body had been scrubbed raw and doused with acid. He looked back at the killer slowly, weighted by all that had happened today. So many questions rested on his tongue, but he couldn't seem to get them all out.

"What about that replacement?"

When he spoke, it was with such intense contempt, one could almost see the venom dripping from his lips. Talon gave him a harsh look in return.

"You'll leave Tim alone."

Tim. Talon referred to him by name. It made that hate in Jason burn all the hotter. How Dick could just...let him go was beyond Jason. That brat replaced him, them.

"What? No! He's gonna pay just like them! He-'

Jason's words were cut off as Talon rushed him. A forearm was pressed to his throat, strangling Jason. He fought against the hold once more. The blood-curdling crack of Talon's ribs snapping was the only sign Jason was causing any damage at all. Talon just leaned forward with that insane, possessive look in his eyes.

"You. Will. Leave. Tim. Alone."

His voice was softer than before but so much more lethal. Jason gasped for air as he tried to speak.

"W-why? He re..placed us."

In response, he got a curious little look. Then, Talon eased up off of him. Even still, he crowded the younger man's space. It made Jason feel far too much like a mouse in front of a cat for his liking.

"You replaced me. Should I make you pay?"

The definitive answer was 'no', but Jason didn't voice that. The indignation burned through him. This was different! Rather than say anything, Jason stood in almost petulant silence. He made sure to put that flash drive in one of his pockets before he accidentally crushed it in his anger. As Talon spoke, there was a definite unhinged edge to his voice. It made an uneasy feeling bolt through the haze of rage burning through Jason.

"Robin is mine. Tim is Robin. Tim is mine."

With each word, Talon tapped his chest. Jason glanced at the offending finger and had to double take at what exactly he'd been tapping. There was a crude 'R' carved into his chest plate, no doubt courtesy of Talon. That was the point he was making. Even when those pernicious words returned, Jason couldn't tear his eyes away from that symbol. His blood ran cold.

"You were Robin."

He didn't need to continue to make his statement clear. The words he denied before rang through his head. 'you are mine.' As Robin, Jason wanted his predecessor's approval, even if he acted like he didn't. Even before The Boy Wonder came to be, Jason had been in awe of Dick. He got to watch him once upon a time on the trapeze, when the Graysons still flew, and it was one of the most amazing things he'd ever witnessed. Then, when he learned that not only did he get to become Robin, but the previous one was that acrobat? Jason was star-struck. He worked to live up to that legacy, to make him proud. Now, he wished he never laid eyes on those goddamn colors or tried to take those tires. This was a soul-deep pain he couldn't ignore.

"I'm not yours."

His voice was a whisper, as if talking to himself, trying to convince himself his words were true. He couldn't bring himself to speak any louder. That fury that was fueling him was dying out under the crushing weight of sadness. God, he had a whole plan to kill his idol but he was too late. Someone beat him to it, did even worse than he planned, and that left a strange curdling in his gut. He wished they murdered Dick Grayson because this was just inhumane. Sure, Jason wanted to slit his fucking throat, but this? This was cruel beyond words. It was sick and what was left was an abomination to make the heavens weep.

Gently, almost affectionately, Talon tilted Jason's head up to meet his gaze. The malice in those vibrant eyes didn't match the tenderness behind the action.

"By my name you lived, Little Wing."

He prodded the scrawled 'R' again, as if to accentuate his point.

"By my name, you'll die. But not before I say so."

A chill wracked his body at the earnestness of the words. Not for the first time did Jason contemplate on just putting a bullet through his own skull. It would save him the pain his future promised. He had the distinct feeling he wouldn't get the chance to even raise the gun before Dick intervened. Jason must have been emoting more than he realized because Talon let out an odd sound and pat his cheek in what was supposed to be a comforting move. The claws cut into his flesh, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Neither reacted to that.

"Don't worry, I don't want you to die yet. So, I'm going to help you."

Jason didn't even bother to respond. There was no point. He had no say, he could tell. It was unintentional, but he was reverting back to that subservient mindset of a captive. Being still, being quiet, being submissive. When he goes over this event later, he'll hate Talon. He'll hate himself even more. But for now, he slipped into that role like a well-worn glove. Only when those cold gloves traced the 'J' on his cheek did Jason look at Talon. There was never a look so close to the embodiment of Hell than the one in those ocher eyes.

"He'll pay. They both will. Then, we can take Gotham."