So here's an update… I'm experimenting a bit with the narrative, especially with Tim. Ugh. We'll see how it all turns out. I promise next week I will have a longer and (hopefully) better chapter.

Also, for those that asked: yes, Alfred will be included in later chapters. Also I have been playing with the idea of adding more DC heroes… or outlaws for that matter ;) Please let me know if you would like to read something with these other characters in it or if that's not quite what you hope for…. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing DC does.

Chapter 9

Jason – that was his name wasn't it? – had put some serious thought into twisting the man's arm, hell his muscles had tried to react in that motion. But Jason found he had little strength left in him to start something. His head was pounding and every step brought him pain. His body was ultra-sensitive to any movement and his clothes rubbed and irritated his skin at an almost unbearable level. Long story short: he was sick. There was a long gash on his side (which he didn't remember receiving) had begun to fester. Long story short: everything hurt like a bitch.

That man, Byron, – or was it Bruce? – had approached and laid a hand on his shoulder. Something had stirred beneath the surface... Like all the memories scrambled in his mind were closer, like the wall was beginning to crumble.

So Jason just shrugged off the gesture and walked away. He needed to think. Needed to clear his head. To his relief the others made no motion to follow, so Jason just kept walking. He left the yard and entered the main building headed towards the cafeteria.

His shoes made a comfortable crunch on the tiles with each sauntering stride. It gave him some measure of comfort; even if everything else about himself was unfamiliar this could not change. The rhythmic sounds of his body in motion, despite the sickness, were soothing. He let himself breathe easy and rolled the tension from his shoulders.

That was, until a uniformed guard snapped his attention to the present. The man was tall, maybe six foot, and waited expectantly at the end of the white-washed hallway for Jason to react. Jason was suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was; his reflexes were slowed due to the infection, and staying focused was like trying to look at the world through a layer of fog.

The guard smiled at Jason, his red hair catching the sickly artificial light at an awkward angle. Flies buzzed about the guard ominously, and the ravenette could only force himself to relax.

"you're needed on kitchen duty, boy." Jason nodded stiffly and made to follow the older man through the far doorway.

When they arrived in the dirt encrusted room, the guard only gestured for him to move on before promptly closing the door behind him. Jason made a slow sweep of the seemingly deserted room. Pots and pans hung from a wraparound island in the center, while others sat on the stove to the immediate right. The stove was on, though the pans had no food being attended there. That was strange-

"I told you you'd be dead, boy." There we go, now the list was perfect in his head: dirty deserted kitchen – check. Utensils ready for eating with no food – check. Stupid assholes – check.

Leon stepped out from behind the back wall and approached him almost lazily. His finger was warped at an odd angle from when Jason had broken it. The ravenette smiled, "Hey, buddy. Keeping in good health, I hope."

"You're one to talk." The man growled.

Four others stepped out from behind the wall, each holding their own improvised weaponry. Two held knives, one held an elongated club, the fourth was big enough not to require an improvisation. Before he knew what was happening Jason was in a crouch and pouncing on the men with imperceptible speed. He grasped the hair of the two with knives first and slammed their heads together in one smooth motion. When they collapsed to the floor Jason immediately took hold of one of the knives, bringing it to bear against Club-boy. The only thing that registered was the spray of red as the man's throat was slashed. The vigilante inside of Jason would not allow him to slow down and consider his actions though, because soon the muscle of the group had arms wrapped around him. Then there was pain. Indescribable agony as the bastard literally squeezed the life out of him. The knife clattered the floor as he lost upward motion.

Jason let out a strangled cry, and then his adrenaline kicked in. He curled inward and let out a well-aimed elbow which struck the mountain of meat behind him. The satisfying wet snap in the aftermath warned Jason that he'd broken bone, which only seemed to intensify the bloodlust in his veins. He let out an angry battle cry as the vigilante swung two fists simultaneously at the mountain's temples. Whoever this man had been, he was dead in moments.

Jason's breath came in labored gasps as he tried to organize the events that had just occurred.

But he had lost sight of Leon. Had disregarded his surroundings. That's why, when the hot pan burned through cloth and skin alike, Jason was powerless to do more than scream at the torture of burning flesh.

Tim had known something was wrong all day, had watched Jason's feverish expression. That's why when Bruce and the others left to their cell, Tim followed Jason's shadowy figure. That's why when he heard his older brother's agonized cry, Tim was prepared to help.

He followed the sounds of struggle to the kitchen where a guard stood watch. Border. The ginger checked his watch lazily, absently shoeing at flies that continuously flew about his head. When a scream erupted from the kitchen Border smiled and opened the door. Tim took his chance. He followed the guard into the room long enough to slink to the sidelines. Before him… were five dead men and one Jason Todd. His brother's hands were defensive, almost placating. Border jabbed a meaty finger into Jason's chest, but the two barely spoke. Finally, the guard moved off, leaving Jason to clean up the mess.

That was when Jason collapsed. Deciding he was in the all-clear, Tim moved out from his hiding place. He made his way through the blood and gore, through the undeniable scent of burned flesh. When he knelt before the older man, Jason clenched his fist in his shirt and pulled the boy closer. Nose-to-nose the two stared each other down.

"Get. It. Off." Jason gasped out. Tim furrowed his brow in confusion, and then he saw it: Where Jason had been burned, the cloth of his blue over shirt had been seared into his skin – the wound blistered and ran red with fresh blood.

"Fuck Jason, you need to stop getting yourself into these situations."

"Just get it off birdbrain." The nickname was what caught him. Tim took hold of his brother's shirt and let the older man cling to his arm.

"This is going to hurt, Jay…" Tim closed his eyes and ripped the fabric away, eliciting a scream from the older man. Jason fell forward and Tim was left with an unconscious Jason Todd, and five dead bodies.

He guessed it was just going to be one of those days.