Tough week guys… tough week. BRIGHT SIDE! Here's this magical thing called an update that I do every now and then….

By the way, I would like to thank every single reader who has either reviewed, added my story to their favorites/watch, or PM-ed me to inform me that I am a good writer. You guys are awesome, and although I doubt people read my annoying ANs, I just had to say that. You know, just in case.

By the way, I finally got a decent cover, thanks to my new favorite artist in the whole world, GwenuitHolland. Awesome artist, awesome person. Made my life. 3

OKAY, on to the story. Because cats. (if you have a Tumblr, you understand…. I hope)

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Some people say that once you've been hurt a certain way, it doesn't hurt as bad the next time. For example, if you break your arm, and it heals, and you break it the same way again it shouldn't hurt as bad.

Jason Todd would like to firmly disagree.

It was unbelievable how many times he'd been hit in the head with something one should never be hit with. He had suffered broken bones, internal bleeding, crazy gases; had been beaten, bruised, drugged, gassed, killed in an explosion, brought back to life twice. But the pain of waking up after being knocked out from a strong blow to the head never got any more bearable.

He moaned, grudgingly cracking open his eye lids. He could already feel his restraints, his arms tied behind his back and his legs tied together. His jacket had been removed, as had his weapons and his helmet.

Stupid helmet wouldn't have done me much good anyway, he thought. Harley probably shattered the damn thing.

He glanced around his containment area, noting the glass that surrounded the chair he was tied to. He seemed to be elevated off the ground, in a glass ball of sorts. It hovered in the air by a chain attached to the ceiling. Below him was a decorated room, if decorated even classified the area he could see.

Spray paint and ribbons littered the walls and floors of the otherwise empty room. There were green and purple balloons that had huge smiles drawn on them in marker, almost completely covering the floor. Furniture was scarce, only a green, fluffy arm chair and a small, wooden rocking chair. There were two small beds towards the back of the room, one with a giant mallet leaning against the frame and one with a disgusting excuse for a man sitting on the mattress, polishing a crowbar that struck Jason as achingly familiar.

Jason waited a moment, not yet ready to make his consciousness known. His head remained slumped, his hair hanging in front of his masked eyes. His eyes continued to search the room, wondering if they'd disposed of his helmet or if he could still detonate the bomb hidden inside of it.

If I still even have the detonator, Jason thought crudely. Although, sure enough, Harley entered the room, holding the remains of the bright red helmet under one arm. Two goons in ridiculously done make-up followed her in, quickly leaving her side to go stand by Jason's confinement area. They stared up at him, as though he were an animal in a zoo.

"Mista J!" Harley shouted, her voice whiney and exasperated. Even Joker cringed slightly, although he continued to polish his crow bar. Jason now noticed he wasn't actually polishing it to say, more like just wiping it off for no apparent reason, not bothering to clean off the dark red that was dried blood splatters. My blood… Jason thought, although he quickly shoved that thought out of his brain.

"Yes, Harley?" Joker asked, glancing up. His voice sounded raspy, and slightly forced. He also seemed more annoyed with Harley than he normally was. Now that he was sitting straighter up, Jason could see that his breathing was fast and shallow. He seemed… strained? Joker was in pain, and Jason couldn't help the small amount of satisfaction that brought him.

"I'm bored!" Harley cried, plopping down on the bed that was assumed to be hers. "When is Fire Head gonna wake up?" she asked, tossing the helmet onto her pillow. She fell backwards, sprawling out on the creaky mattress.

Joker sighed, placing his crowbar down with unusual fondness and tossing his cloth carelessly to the side. He stood, winced, and walked towards Jason's glass cage. A crooked smile lit up Joker's features, his yellow teeth glaring up at Jason from behind his ruby lips. "It seems he's already awake, dear."

Jason scowled, briefly wondering how Joker knew before moving his head to glance at Harley, who was now skipping gleefully over to the rest of the group.

He remained calm, and silent. He merely craned his neck to look from the excited expression on Harley's face, to the completely oblivious goons, to Joker's sickening face. His pasty white skin only emphasized his cracked teeth and messy green hair in a stomach-churning way. His was a face Jason would never forget, no matter how much he wished his nightmares wouldn't be littered with the horrible laugh that was currently bubbling its way out of Joker's throat.

"OH! Can I play with him first, Mista J?!" Harley asked, bouncing so much her head bobbled back and forth on her shoulders.

"No." Joker said, his face shifting from an evil grin to an annoyed scowl.

"Why not?" Jason asked, his voice oozing with hatred. "I'm pretty bored, myself."

"Don't provoke him." Bruce said, his fists curling angrily around the leather of the steering wheel. A thirteen-year-old Jason Todd sat in the passenger seat, in his very own Robin uniform. He didn't have to wear Dick's old one anymore, as Alfred had put the finishing touches on his last night.

"Why not?" Jason asked, leaning back and resting his feet on the dashboard, grumbling quietly to himself when Bruce glared at him, a signal to remove his feet. "If I can play his game and manipulate him, don't you think it would work?"

"You can't." Bruce said quickly. "He's a madman who's willing to exploit everything you say, and Harley is a trained psychiatrist. Both are fully capable of using your words against you in the worst possible way."

"But-"

"Jason," Bruce said, turning to look at his latest protégé. The rugged street boy was still so evident in the boy's features, his expression hard, completely unwilling to let anyone in. He reminded Bruce a little of himself had he not been born into money. "Just don't, please."

Jason's features softened a little, hearing the pleading tone in his mentor's voice. He was very sure that he could do it, that he could use his words to manipulate his mentor's foe. But that tone made him think twice on the matter. "Okay, Bruce." Jason promised. Maybe later, when he'd had more training, he would be good enough to take Joker on by himself, just like Dick had done when he was still Robin…

"Well, if you're bored," Joker's hoarse voice dragged Jason out of his flashback. He shifted his masked gaze back to Joker's disturbing face. "We could always play that game we used to. Back when you were a little bird."

Jason narrowed his eyes, leaning forward in his chair to his arms extent. "Doesn't sound like you're up for that game. What's with the voice?"

As if on cue, Joker burst into a coughing fit, small droplets of blood coating his lips and chin, and several more flying out and crashing to their deaths on the floor. He used the back of his hand to wipe the blood splatters off his face, before glaring back up at Jason, as if he were angry at the teen for being correct.

"You want us to get him down, boss?" one of the goons asked, not taking his eyes off Jason's form, who was still glaring at Joker as though he could make him burst into flames.

Joker seemed to think, his green eyes staring up at Jason, who had yet to struggle against his restraints, something Joker had come to love to watch among the Batman's protégés. He ignored Harley's disappointed expression as he denied the offer.

"No, Judy. (1)" Joker said, smiling again. "I need him alive for when the Blue Bird comes."

"Hey!" Jason shouted as the group began to leave. They turned back to look at him, Joker's expression was almost tired, his white skin sagging slightly. Even his eye brows weren't dancing above his blood shot eyes as they normally were, rising and falling with his mood.

"What?" Harley snapped, her own expression one of anger.

"Only I get to call him Blue Bird." Jason said, his eye brows furrowing above his mask. Joker's smile grew, and he turned again to walk towards the door.

Jason could only make out his strained laugh as he exited the warehouse, Harley and the goons following closely, leaving the undead hero alone with his thoughts. And the main one on his mind seemed to repeat itself.

Dick, you better hurry your ass up and find me.

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The sound of cars whizzing by on the street was excruciating. Dick already had a headache, and the sound of engines buzzing and tires screeching was not helping. He buried his hands in his jacket pockets, and his head deeper into the white hood of his hoodie.

The air was moist, the sky clearing from the rain of the morning. There was a heavy breeze, blowing back Dick's shaggy hair and pushing the scents of his city into his nose. Dick ignored all of that, however, his most recent encounter with Barbara and Tim fresh in his mind.

How could they ask him questions? Couldn't they just leave it alone?

Don't pretend you didn't expect this from them. This thought annoyed him more than it should have. He did expect this from them, but he didn't want them involved. Truth be told, he didn't want Jason involved either. Especially Jason, for that matter.

Jason was too close to the situation, and his emotions could cause danger, for himself and everyone else. Dick knew all too well that Jason reacted very horribly to situations that brought forth a lot of emotions. He either shut everyone out and walked away, or he resorted to violence. Neither was a good option in Dick's mind.

Jason shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place, as the vigilante had been missing for two days now. Even for Jason, that was unusual. The mission wasn't over yet, Jason still had a job to do. He wouldn't move one without a seriously good reason, and to Jason, the only reason to leave before a mission was done was a chance to kill the Joker.

Dick turned off the street, entering an alley way that was highly concealed in shadows, hiding himself from the world as he unzipped his jacket and began to remove it. He ignored the frigid air on his bare arms, throwing the jacket over his shoulder and reaching forward to enter the code into the brick wall.

He tapped it multiple times, before it opened, revealing a small doorway, only big enough to fit one at a time. He slipped into the shadow-y room, waiting for the lights to flicker on as the door behind him closed.

A bright white light turned on, revealing a small room packed with extra weapons and two spare costumes. Bruce had helped him install it a few weeks after he'd moved to Bludhaven. Barbara called it the 'Wing Cave' and had no doubt already brought Tim there and checked to see if he had been there yet. That meant they would be looking for Richard Grayson, rather than Nightwing. It proved his safety if he went out in the spandex he bore at night.

He changed quickly, taking to the rooftops to avoid being seen near his hide out.

He could feel his anger evaporate as he flipped through the air, feeling the wind rushing through his ebony locks. Contorting his body in ways normal people couldn't had a soothing effect on him, even stabilizing his heart beat. He was never good at sitting still, and even worse at keeping quiet.

He couldn't help but come to a dead halt when he saw a familiar van. It was no ordinary van, and it had been pretty well hidden. Probably why no one reported sightings of it, because everyone knew what seeing the cursed vehicle meant.

Joker was near.

It was pasty white, all except the bright red smile that had been sloppily painted on the side. The paint had dripped lazily down the car's exterior before drying, leaving run marks and making the smile appear as though it was bleeding in several places.

Nightwing crouched low on the rooftop, narrowing his eyes. He waited for only five minutes for two huge people that were easily recognizable as Joker's goons came stalking towards the vehicle.

Just as the driver reached toward the door handle, Nightwing's body landed on the roof, denting it slightly. He flipped behind him, effectively knocking the passenger henchman to the ground with a sore jaw in a show of acrobatics. He pulled out his Eskrima sticks as he landed behind the driver, pulling him in close and holding the weapon to his throat. He slammed him against the wall, turning the electricity in his weapon on. (2)

"Where's Joker?" Nightwing ground out, his face clenched in a tight glare. The henchman remained silent, his clown makeup showing a false smile that had been hurriedly painted on, and easily run. It was reminiscent of the smile painted onto the van.

The distinct noise of a gun cocking behind him made him tense slightly, estimating his next move. "Put him down, freak."

Nightwing whipped around, holding the huge body of the goon close, pushing harshly on three different pressure points so as to keep the man from trying to escape his hold. He pressed the electric into the man's neck, only briefly. His muscles tensed against Nightwing, the electricity causing him to jerk slightly in the hero's grip.

"You're calling me a freak?" Nightwing laughed a little, though it was forced through his anger. "I'll say it again: Where's Joker?"

"Let him go!" The man holding the gun shouted, his arm outstretched with the weapon in it. Nightwing noticed how it shook slightly, and the small bead of sweat making its way down his forehead. He could feel the driver's heartbeat, quick and erratic. He was fearful his friend would shoot anyway.

"Don't shoot." Nightwing commanded, pressing the stick harder into the goon's throat. "You'll miss by a long shot with that trajectory, letting me walk away without a scratch, but you'll lose your buddy."

The henchman seemed to ponder this, shifting his arm several times before lowering the gun completely. Nightwing smirked, knowing completely well that his trajectory was not actually off, and had he fired Nightwing's brains would be smeared across the brick wall right now.

"One more chance. Where is the Joker?" Nightwing spat out, narrowing his eyes at the goon. He pressed the Eskrima stick further into the man's neck, holding his body still as it jolted against his grasp.

"He-he's in an old warehouse, on the other end of town." The good said, watching wide-eyed as his friend was electrocuted. "We can- we can show you!"

Nightwing smiled, releasing the thug. He fell to the ground, his body jolting violently as the electricity surged through his system. Nightwing had been shocked before, on a much higher voltage. The henchman would be fine. He halted his friend, who moved to help his fallen comrade. It was very rare that a hero came across henchmen who were not only easily tricked, but also friends. Nightwing scoffed a little at the idea, noting how very rare it were that villains were friends when it seemed everyone in the hero world was friends with another hero.

"Let's go." Nightwing said, glaring at the still standing goon as the other stopped convulsing on the ground at his feet. "Now." His words came out as more of an order.

He grabbed the fallen goon's collar, dragging him to the side of the can where he threw him into the back. He slammed the door closed, walking up to the other.

"What's your name?" he asked, pushing the goon against the car. He wasn't asking to be nice, he was asking so he could stop calling him 'the goon.' It got a bit repetitive.

"Judy." The henchman said, fear lacing his face.

Nightwing scoffed, walking over to the wall of the alley way, and aiming his grapple up. "I'll follow, Judy. You go to the warehouse, and don't try to trick me." He narrowed his eyes, firing the gun in his hands. "I'll be right behind you."

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DUN! DUN! DUN! So Nightwing found Joker, without Tim and Babs. Yes. At this point I have almost no clue what I'm doing.

JUST KIDDING!

Seriously, I'm kidding.

Anyway, review answers…. Read them…

Lakeshine: I'M SORRY! I gave you Jay-news this chapter though. xD haha.

Yuna Kimitachi: Nice use of the word 'whelming.' I like. :P I am glad you are impatient, even though you should know fairly well when I update. :P haha.

GwenuitHolland: The action will start soon, no worries. :) and it's perfectly fine, I actually welcome criticism. Feel free to tell me how you think the story would be better. I hope your dizziness is better by the way! D:

READINGhearts17: I know! I didn't want to, but I did want to… It's rather tragic…

Midnight1906: I have no response to your line….

Undecidable: I certainly hope so! Thank you! :D

I have no suitable question… I'm kind of tired and its two in the morning… so shhhh on my lack of questions. Anyway, I was thinking about trying to update maybe twice a week… for damage control. To control the damage that CN caused when they REMOVED YOUNG JUSTICE FOR NO GOD DAMNED REASON.

I apologize… sore subject. But yeah, twice a week. Not a promise, but if I have time in my busy schedule of not having a life, I will try to write an extra chapter every week. No promises.

REVIEW KINDLY!

~Charlie~