Two Hours Later...
Jason would've jumped across the table and choked the life out of the skin trading bastard had there not been a far distance between them covered with food.
Nor if there'd been multiple armed guards watching over him like hawks from behind.
A traditional Venezuelan brunch was spread out on the large dining table, covering up most of the space.
They'd been in a large, fancy dining room-an interior you'd never expected existed in the middle of a rainforest. It consisted of multiple empty tables and seats. Obviously, they were all just for show. They'd chosen a table in the center. Which happened to be the largest.
A server approached him from behind and rested a bowl consisting of a yellow soupy substance with chopped green herbs floating at the surface.
"Eat, my boy." Marco spoke. "It's Pisca Andina. My personal favorite, just how Nana made it back home." He stared reminiscently out the large window for a moment. Most of the vegetation had been cut down, giving him a view of the near-to-afternoon sunlight. From a distance, the sparkling crystal clear river of the Casiquiare lay as its waters reflected the rays of the orange-yellow evening star. "I picked it just for you. Thought you'd like it."
Jason didn't budge. Although he wouldn't lie. It smelled delicious.
"Look," He spoke with slight annoyance. "I apologize about Slade. The one eyed bastard doesn't know shit about hospitality."
No answer.
"So, Jason." Marco began, ignoring his cold demeanor. "I think we need to have a little charla."
"Not before you tell me just what the fuck is going on." Jason retorted. "The women? What did you do to them? Why waste Ricardo's time by making a deal you never went through with? Why kill him? What did the Latino Gang have to do with any of this? Why were they in Gotham? "
"The Latino Gang works for me now. I took control of them weeks ago. That's the way it works in this world. Take control, or be controlled."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Ricardo and his men posed as a rival gang. Began robbing their shipments. So that meant him and his gang had to be eliminated."
"I had Geneva contact him. Told him we wanted to strike up a deal. That I'd sell him thirty plus prostitutes for a reasonable price. I knew he couldn't refuse. He was big in sex trafficking. But so are the Latinos…"
"Which is why you actually bought those prostitutes in Gotham." Jason spoke. "They never were for Ricardo. They were for the Latinos…"
"We had to make it look good. We needed a way to infiltrate his hideout so we can take out not only him but the rest of his goons. We packed the truck full with our men along with Geneva to carry out the execution."
Marco leaned back. "And I'm pretty sure you can take the rest from there."
Right then a waitress came and collected his empty beer bottle, then rested a new one beside him.
He remembered. The militia opening fire, the thugs falling one by one. It was a bloodbath. A ruthless massacre. Then there was…
"Slade."
"What about him?"
"How do you know him?"
"He was hired to assassinate some oil contractor here by some eco-fanatic who offered him a hell of alot of money. Long story short, the attempt flew south and he was captured."
"He got himself in a heap load of shit. Arrested-detained by the government. I found him in his cell and offered him an opportunity. Seeing he was former Marine I had him work me up a private militia force. I funded everything. Military-grade gear, weapons, money. It wasn't long until I had an entire paramilitary group at my disposal. His freedom for his service and my benefit."
Marco waved his hand as by ways to end the subject. "But enough of that. My turn."
"Go ahead."
The crime lord composed himself, shifting from his casual manner to a more authoritative posture. "My right hand girl told me you got some...expertise."
" Geneva…"
"She told me everything, hermano. Jason Peter Todd-Wayne. Black belt in fifteen different forms of martial arts, high athletic capabilities, trained to physical perfection. Did track, soccer, wrestling in high school. A straight A student-you're pretty well rounded but a little hot tempered...she researched you to the core."
"How?..."
"Obituary." His sarcasm was blatant.
"What are you getting at? " As if he couldn't get any more annoyed.
"Someone with your…talents shouldn't go to waste."
"What do you mean?" Jason asked even though he knew the answer.
"Let's just say we can make a proposition." Marco let out a grin. "You work for me now, without question, without hesitation, without rebellion. If I want something done, you do it. Slade will be your handler. The agreement comes with many...incentives."
"I'm listening."
"You'll be backed by an entire military force. I have safehouses around the globe, weapons distributors, fake ID suppliers. No one will suspect you, you'll be covered both financially and in terms of your identity."
Todd considered for a moment. "And what if I don't accept this offer? What will you do then? Kill me?"
"What are you, stupid?"
"Weighing my options."
There was a period of silence. The crime boss chuckled. "You know," He took a fork full of his plate of Gnocci and began to chew. "That won't be a hard thing to do." He swallowed. "But death is merciful, mi amigo. It gives no punishment." He placed his fork down, pulled out another cigarette, lit it and took a puff. "You're a runaway. The ward of Bruce Wayne. The sonuva bitch billionaire himself. It won't be hard giving the big man a call telling him his long lost son is alive. With that, we can just continue to hold you hostage for ransom."
Torres blew another cloud. "It's a win-win for me either way. So the choice is really up to you…"
Jason scoffed. Bruce Wayne may have been an idiotic playboy billionaire but the Batman no way in hell would leave his ward in another continent with a major crime lord who is responsible for multiple criminal activities throughout the globe without taking him down and two thirds of his army.
…Or would he?
But working for this bastard could have its benefits. It'd give him something to do. Help him think, take his mind off the past. All while giving him the chance to rid the scum that infested the Earth. From the looks of it, Marco is trying to eliminate competiton. Competition meant the bad guys.
Hell, he wouldn't mind screwing up a few of his ops with it.
Jason bowed his head and ran a hand through his black hair. If he'd gone back to Gotham, what would he do? He's dead. There was nothing for him there. There never was. And that cesspool was never his home.
Besides, he didn't want to risk Bruce knowing he was alive. He didn't want to go back...
He couldn't. Not yet.
Jason closed his eyes for a moment. Causing the memories to unfold once more.
"Do you really think Batman's cared for you, Jason?" Joker chuckled. "Do you think anyone's ever cared for you? Think about it, Todd ol' boy."
He strapped an arm around his shoulders, using his other hand to extend to the environment. "Look where you are. Abandoned. Rotting. Suffering. Dying. Where is everyone? Gone. Given up. And too damned easily for that matter."
"Then you begin to wonder why suffer…why suffer for so long and for no reason. Only to die. Broken. Alone." The clown giggled. "The only sane answer is..." He faced him this time, looking into the disturbed teen's blue eyes.
"Batman. Never. Cared."
Jason could smell the stench of his own anger to the memory. He allowed it to rush through his veins, boil his blood. The eighteen year old looked boldly in his eyes.
"Okay," He started. He knew he was going to hate himself for making this decision.
"I'm in."
