Warning: Violence but the whole story is gory so if you got this far you have pretty much seen the worst of it.

I don't care. I don't. Care. thought Jason. His fist connected with the wall in punctuation. He cursed as his fist crushed the plaster of his crappy apartment. The image of the R in the pool of blood came unbidden to his mind and the ringing in his ear sounded like the horrid laughter. His breathing picked up but he couldn't get enough air. A phantom weight seemed to compress his chest.

Get a hold of yourself! Jason thought, you're the bloody Red Hood you do what the Batman can't. The underworld fears you. You are not going to have a panic attack because of recorded laughter. It had been all Jason could do not to cover his ears and shrink into a ball when he had heard that laughter a couple of days before. That could not be allowed to happen especial in front of the golden bird or demon brat. Dick already thinks I am emotional unstable and Damian would no longer show the needed respect. Jason had no doubt the level of respect for Hood in Robin's eye would go from grudging respect at his results to contempt.

His booted foot snapped out kicking his red helmet across the dirty tile floor. It not the Joker. The sick clown is still in the nuthouse. If it had been him, Jason's decision would be simple. The answer was an AK-47 and C-4. No, this was more complex. This was someone else, someone who knew of his death and the clown's involvement, someone who was skilled enough to take out the replac—Tim. Not an easy task despite what Jason and Damian often spouted.

So Jason shouldn't care right? It was outside his territory. The bats could handle this one. Rescue Tim save the day. Jason could go back to putting holes in crime-bosses. He shouldn't care what happened to his replacement. He kicked his helmet again. The problem was he did. He owed Tim big time. He had nearly killed the kid a few years ago for blame that rightfully belonged to the Bat. Tim had never done anything to Jason and Jason had sent him to the hospital. That was something a villain would do. Jason, despite what the others might claim, never classified himself as a villain. This was something he had to make right. He snatched his helmet from the floor. That's when the apartment wall exploded behind him.

Jason landed on his kitchen table, which collapsed under his weight. "Grrrr," he grunted spitting blood. The groan didn't meet his ears. All he could hear was ringing. Dazed and confused he rolled on to his back with an effort. The stars winked down at him…he could have sworn there had been a ceiling there a minute ago his concussed brain processed slowly. Now, this is why he wore the helmet. If he had been wearing it, his brain would be less liquefied. Safety first kids, well, he also had it laced with C—4 and a self-destruct button but that was besides the point.

Focus, he dragged his gaze to the movement of a shadowy figure that approached his new skylight. Jason finger groped for his holster but fine motor skills had abandoned him. The room seemed to be shrinking growing dark around the edges as his vison faded. No. Not again! He refused to die the same way twice! With an incredible show of will Jason got to his feet, arm extended with his 45 caliber. He swayed but most men in his condition would not be conscious must less standing.

"Jaybird is awake. But we might have knocked some of his feather off. Did you mean to use so much explosive" the voice was a woman's. The ringing was fading and Jason realized two things. Somehow she knew his nickname and she wasn't alone. They must be the ones who had taken Tim anger flared giving him a burst of strength. Jason pulled the trigger just as a foot connected with his hand shattering it from behind.

MockingBird finished his roundhouse kick with an elbow to Jason ribs that had already been damaged by the explosion doubling the taller man over. Already dizzy and in pain it was a simple matter for Mockingjay to kick Jason legs out from under him and place a booted heel on his throat. # ^&! thought Jason, the man was skilled.

"After the last time I fought he disserves a little beat down," hissed Mockingjay who wasn't even breathing hard.

"You call this a little beat down?" asked the woman staking over a little closer.

"He tried to kill me. Let me have this moment before we continue the plan." The women head cocked to one side like she had heard something.

"He is here," she hissed. Jason didn't think his night could get any worse. He was wrong. The universe had decided to humiliate him then kill him. The bluebird fell from the heavens landing in a crouch escrima sticks in hand.