Clutch was a booming club not very far from Nini's restaurant and bar. It had tinted windows and strobe lights everywhere. A red carpet was at the front, along with the paparazzi. Just as they had planned. The camaro rolled smoothly up to the stripe of velvet crimson, and a valet opened the driver door to reveal Jason Todd, who stepped out and handed the valet the keys before walking around to open the passenger door. He took Rozalin Mercer's hand and led her up the red carpet with a cordial air, as if she was a queen. She was in his eyes, and in the eyes of the public, so in a way, he was right to do so. Cameras flashed rapidly, blinding them, and they smiled brightly for them.
"Rozalin, look this way!"
"Jason, over here!" the photographers cried, and they played it up for them, holding hands and posing together.
Jason wrapped an arm around her waist, and Rozalin blushed prettily. The crowd went wild with speculation, and they smiled to themselves. At this rate, the tabloids would burn out on them, and then leave them alone.
The tinted glass doors opened for them, and it revealed an expanse of gyrating people. Women in hardly any clothing rubbed against each other and men in tight leather. The children of lawyers and doctors rubbed elbows with the heirs of large businesses, drinking alcohol and dancing their immature, spoiled hearts out. It sickened Jason. He would much rather be patrolling the streets with Bruce... and Cardinal. He thought of the gun- shaped birthmark just under her belly button. If he were to look at the planes of Rozalin's body, would he find one just like it? Or was he mistaken? The thought of her keeping something so important from him ate at him. But, wasn't that exactly what he had intended on doing, had she not already known he was Robin? Should he expect anything different from another crime fighter?
Rozalin turned to him, trying to speak to him over the crowd's pleas for attention.
"I think it's high time we had some fun inside, wouldn't you agree?" she whispered in his ear. He nodded, taking her into the large, swanky dance club.
The first thought that came to mind was ow. The music was so loud, the bass sent a rhythm into the solar plexus of anyone inside. The lights flashed, turning everything white and black in the same instant. Glittery strippers hung in cages on the ceiling, and a glass box over the dance floor held a young woman in nothing but a sparkly purple thong and a smile. The crowd cheered and gyrated in sexual movements, exaggerated by alcohol and hormones.
It was a nightmare for them. In the corners, Jason couldn't help but notice the druggies, the drunks, and the stalkers sitting, watching, waiting for their chance for one of the young dancers. He caught glimpses of cocaine, heroin, oxycotton, and marijuana. It figured that the one night he took off the cape, all the small time crooks came out of the dark. Dammit, it was just his luck. He noticed Rozalin had become tense, though she kept the smile plastered on her face, laughing at bad jokes made by passerby, and the such. Suspicious didn't even cover it, in Jason's mind.
"Jason? Jason, how are you!"
Jason cringed. Aw, fuck it all, Jason thought. It was just who he didn't want to see. He turned and tried to force on a smile, but it looked like something that would scare the Joker, it was so strained and jagged.
"Hey, Dick. I'm doing just fine, how are you?"
"I'm doing good, how's- why, hello there." Richard Grayson, the first Robin, had set his sights on Rozalin. "I'm Richard. But you, madam, may call me Dick."
"Yes, I think I will, especially when you are causing my Birdie here to stress." Rozalin's smile was caustic and her tone was acidic, the ultimate rejection line. The smirk slid off Dick's face, and his eyebrows furrowed together.
"Birdie?" he looked to Jason, puzzled. "What does she mean by, Birdie? Jason, why would she call you- oh," Dick saw the guilty look on Jason's face. "You told her? How irresponsible can you be?"
"He didn't tell me," Rozalin glared at Dick. "How dare you accuse him. I have known that secret for years, thanks to Batman's brilliant way of picking random kids off the streets. Now I would like it if you would kindly back the hell off."
Her ferociousness made Dick take a step back. "Fine. I'll go. But Jason," he looked to his replacement Robin. "Be careful who you share secrets with. Not that she's untrustworthy, but not everyone is as nice as her. And don't go breaking rules. They're there for a reason."
They cut the night short, and Jason drove her back home.
"You didn't have to take me home, Hermes could have" Rozalin started, but Jason cut her off.
"There was no Hermes. You walked to Wayne Manor. I know you did, because you're stubborn, independent, and you do a lot of cardio fighting villains."
"What?" she seemed not quite surprised that he knew, more that he would be so blase about it. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I'm sure you do. I remember the gun shaped birthmark, and the small scar on your collar bone where your mother hit you. I helped bandage it, as I recall." He was stern, but not harsh. He didn't want her to hate him, or think him an ass.
She was quiet for a time, and looked intently at her shoes. "You caught me. I've been helping you guys out for a while now, keeping to small muggings and drug deals. You guys are always so busy tracking down the big villains that you forget the little people, the ones who get hurt the most. So I do it for you. Is that such a crime?"
"No, it's not." Jason lifted her chin. "But it is dangerous. I want you to be more careful with your work. I won't tell you what to do, but I will warn you. If you do things alone, you don't have anyone to help if you need it. I invite you to stay with us. We can fight together."
"I'd like to, but the Bat won't allow that." Rozalin gave a sad smile. "We don't play by the same rules. I'm playing a different game."
