There are a lot of POV changes here. I separated each with the name of the character whose perspective you are in. One POV can be considered "Neutral" or the "Reader's" perspective as we don't really follow any one person's viewpoint.
Jason
Jason slid the sample into the League's transporter computer and waited for Goldie's DNA to upload. It didn't take nearly as long as it used to, he noticed. The transporter must have gotten an upgrade since the last time he had tried this. He hoped this trick Dick had showed him years ago still worked or he'd have company waiting for him when he arrived on the Watchtower.
It wasn't as if he wouldn't be welcomed, necessarily. He wasn't killing anymore, or at least, not unless he found a villain that was really begging for it . . . It was just too bad that Vandal Savage was immortal because if anyone needed an escort off this mortal coil, it was him. Roy's assurance that no one blamed him for Dickweed's predicament was a farce. Maybe the large part of the League didn't, but Jason was positive that Bruce might have a different perspective now that his favored son was retired to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
But . . . Jason slid the electronic keycard into the data slot and typed in one of the codes that Dick had provided him back when Jason wore a yellow and black cape instead of the leather jacket and red helmet of the Red Hood. 'Just in case,' the newly-dubbed Nightwing had explained to him. If the League was compromised or defeated by a foe and someone needed to get onto the Watchtower without being detected, this would work. After all, Dick had told him, it had happened before.
Ironically, Vandal Savage had been behind that first time as well. Jason had heard the story. That time was before him, before the advent of the second Robin.
The first Robin's talent for hacking was well known, but no one knew of this, even Batman had been kept in the dark. The only person that Dick had trusted with this had been one thirteen-year-old fanboy, still wet behind the mask. He had never said anything at the time, but it had been one of Jason's most cherished memories. Dick had chosen Jason to share his backdoor hack with over any League member, over his friends, and even Bruce himself.
It was this memory, probably over any other that had prompted Jason to forego his own revenge on Ra's to get Dick the information on Wally, to help him rescue the errant speedster when asked . . . and, for what he was about to do now. IF the codes were still good after all this time, that is.
The script was still running across the screen at a pace too fast for Jason to follow. Dick could, he couldn't help thinking. He growled and shook his head as if the harsh movement would shake loose his constant need to compare himself with his older brother. It was a compulsion that the Joker had failed to beat out of him, a little part of his former life that had survived his death.
He couldn't help wondering if Roy would be up there waiting on him. He had already seen the archer once in the early morning hours. Jason had no desire to meet up with him again, even if Roy had been the one to call him with the info about Savage. Roy wanted Jason to be kept in the loop, to draw him back to the fold, but Roy wouldn't want what Jason wanted. Roy would likely stop him or rat him out if he knew his plans. That's why Jay had been harsh and cut the call short after Roy had imparted the news. Let the archer consider him too angry and guilt-ridden to do anything today.
But, the truth was that Jason was too angry and guilt-ridden to not do anything about it, and there was no time like the present, when the League was too wrapped up in their emotions to worry about someone like Jason, a semi-friendly with a grudge.
The beep alerted him that the hack was successful.
Damn, Dickweed, he thought as he pulled out his keycard. You still got it. It was yet another thing for Jason to feel jealous of but, overall, the list of things was shrinking dramatically. Goldie wasn't nearly so golden anymore. That gleam had become tarnished and Vandal Savage needed to pay for that.
"B-01, Nightwing", the transporter intoned mistakenly as it scanned him, and then Jason was feeling the unique experience of having his molecules broken down and torn apart in order to be beamed into orbit and reassembled on the Watchtower.
This wouldn't have worked had Nightwing been beamed aboard, but he had arrived via Martian bioship. The hack allowed him to separate the transporter computer's information from the mainframe which would prevent it from acknowledging Nightwing's presence on board for the time it took Jason to transport to the Watchtower. When his vision cleared, Jason was standing in a receiving room used to receive bulk shipments and supplies. It was currently deserted as shipments weren't scheduled to arrive on Sunday mornings.
Jason listened for a second for an intruder alert. When none came, he ran to the wall containing the ventilation shaft. Dick had given him the schematics of the Watchtower at the same time he had taught Jason how to hack the system. He double-checked his location and the map. He didn't want to get lost in that maze. Once he knew where he had to go, Jason slipped into the shaft and carefully closed the vent face behind him. No sense alerting anyone who happened in that there was someone unauthorized wandering about the satellite with a misplaced vent cover. Another couple of seconds allowed him to disable the motion and heat sensors along the path he was taking, and then he was moving.
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Savage
"So, he's finally died, did he? I expected you here an hour ago," Vandal Savage sat on the bunk provided, lounging comfortably, looking quite relaxed despite facing down The Batman. He didn't wait for the grim Crusader to reply to his taunt. "I must admit he's hanging on longer than I expected him to. You should be thanking me, you know. I did you a favor."
Vandal stood up, moving to stand just a few feet in front of his adversary, ignoring the eyes beyond the forcefield that held him here. He contemplated the Dark Knight's silence, but after a few moments, Savage concluded that what he was seeing was a chip in the hero's exterior. The man was obviously too distraught with the death of his old partner and unable to voice his anger. Vandal smiled grandly as he continued with his analysis, walking around the mortal slowly.
"Your protégé was weak. Surely, you realize this by now. His affections for others made him that way. Your affection for him, however, damages your reputation."
Savage completed his rotation and stopped in front of the Bat, facing off with him. He made no threatening moves, aware that he was being watched by some of the League's hardest hitters. Superman and Flash would be in here before he could choke the life from his grief-stricken victim. In the meantime, he complained of the waste of a once-worthy foe.
"You had the ability to be my equal despite of your mortality, yet you throw it away with this ridiculous need to take in these . . . children. Are they supposed to be your legacy? This is two you've lost now. The Joker beat me to the other one but, if you like, I can rid you of the last of your clingers-on, this latest Robin. Then, you would be free to meet your potential."
"Savage . . ." Batman stepped forward, closing the difference.
He wasn't worried. What could the Bat do to him? He was Vandal Savage, an immortal. Even if Batman's code of honor allowed him to kill, the man's friends would stop him. The Bat's ability to intimidate was utterly ineffectual. Vandal judged that his calm, emotionless state in the face of Savage's verbal attack was proof of his hypothesis and relaxed his guard. The other Leaguers appeared to have done the same, determining for themselves that Batman wasn't a risk. The hero was too much in control of himself. They leaned back in their chairs or turned away in disgust, giving the hero the privacy he had asked for so as to confront his protégé's murderer.
"You have something to say to me, Batman? I will graciously accept your gratitude," Vandal smiled broadly, his arms open in a welcoming gesture, feeling safe with his many angry but morally-upright guards.
In a move that would have impressed the Flash, Batman's hands crossed the short distance between them. Had he ever moved so quickly before? He thought not.
Hard hands encased in leather gloves grabbed Vandal's head, twisting. The snap was audible throughout the room as were the gasps of his colleagues. The forcefield disintegrated even as Savage's body hit the ground like a brick. The thump even sounded different . . . Like that of a lifeless sack of grain. Hands jerked Batman out of the cell.
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Neutral
"My God, Bruce!" Superman gaped past him at the corpse on the floor. "What the hell? You don't kill! Batman doesn't kill! What of your code?"
Batman reached over to the controls, reinstating the forcefield. He looked up at Clark first, and then at the rest of his shocked colleagues.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured with infuriating calm. "I didn't kill anyone. Vandal Savage is still alive."
A groan issued forth from the cell as a reanimated Savage slowly climbed to his feet. He reached up, twisting his head back around with another loud crack. He bent and turned his head, stretching his neck as if loosening tense muscles before stepping up to the magnetic field that separated him from his jailers.
"What the hell was that?" he growled. "What of your vaulted reputation, Batman? Your high standard of ethics? Your vow to never take a life?"
Batman glanced back. Only Superman could see the rigidity in the man's jaw.
"You're still alive, aren't you?" Batman stated coolly before he turned around and walked out with a swirl of cape. It was time to get back to his son.
"Don't turn your back on me!" Savage yelled at the Bat's retreating back. When the doors closed, Vandal snarled at the others. "Is that your idea of protection? You just let that man kill me!"
Superman faced Savage, crossing his arms. "Odd, but you don't look dead to me." He walked out of the brig, calling back over his shoulder. "I think I'll head down to the medical bay to see Nightwing. Dr. Midnite said that he was stabilized now."
Martian Manhunter went with him. "I will accompany you. I am to relieve Black Canary of duty."
Savage strained to see him go. "So, the boy's still alive? Why did Batman still break my neck?" He scoffed derisively. "I knew his partners made him weak. I told him so. Pathetic."
Wonder Woman stepped up to the cell. "Don't test me, Savage. If I were to do that, it would take you so much longer to revive yourself." Then, she turned her back to the villain as well. "It's my turn to take watch duty," she announced as she exited next.
"The mighty Justice League is reduced to mob tactics and threats?" Savage said, tilting his head on his newly-healed neck.
Barry shook his head in disgust. "I'm sorry. I can't be here any longer. You coming, GL?"
"Right behind you, Flash," Hal agreed, following him out.
Hawkgirl was all that remained. She kicked her chair back away from the console with her foot and stood. She glared at Savage through the magnetic field that kept him contained. She stretched her wings and her back.
"The boy lives and yet I'm the target of all of this ire," Savage murmured, pondering that. He had stabbed the boy in his spine. If he still lived, then his career as one of these costumed annoyances had been effectively ended. Perhaps that was the reason behind . . .
Hawkgirl interrupted his thoughts, speaking to him through the forcefield. "Don't think for a moment that Klarion will be coming to your rescue," she told him. "Dr. Fate and Zatanna have placed magical protections over the entire Watchtower as well as your cell. No opposing magic will penetrate it, and they will prevent you from walking out, even should the magnetic field fail for any reason. You are well and truly trapped here."
"All this for two who aren't even League members?" Savage laughed. "I think the Light has underestimated the League's partiality for those children. You will not contain me for long, no matter your precautions, and then the Light will use this knowledge to our benefit. Much the worse for your protégés."
Hawkgirl turned a knob on the control panel. "You know," she said, "you talk far too much. I'm getting sick listening to you pontificate like some fat, royal, never-ending slob."
Vandal's mouth was moving, but nothing came through the sound block she had placed over his cell. Hawkgirl raised a hand to her ear as if straining to hear him, then laughed. "You can hear me, but no one can hear you anymore. You aren't going anywhere, Vandal, so just settle down on your bunk and catch some Z's. I'm going for some coffee."
She stopped in front of the cell. "Would you like some?" She tilted her head. "What's that, Savage? I can't hear you. No? None for you? Fine. I'll be back in a few."
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Savage
Vandal Savage was alone in his cell contemplating his revenge on the Dark Knight. Batman would not get away with humiliating him. He had all the time in the world to plan this. He moved to his bunk and laid down. Perhaps, he would take the last Robin away from him first. It would be devastating for the man to lose all those soldiers he had trained to continue his legacy before Savage returned the favor and broke the Bat's neck.
Unbeknownst to him, above the door to the brig, gloved fingers took out first one screw attaching the grate to the ventilation shaft then another. It moved quickly and silently to one after the other until the grate was carefully removed, and the helmeted figure dropped to the floor. He set the grate against the wall for easy retrieval. Red Hood moved toward the only cell whose forcefield was activated, confirming the cell's inhabitant. Satisfied, he turned toward the control console, attaching a tiny device to the panel. He moved back into the cell's entrance as he tugged out a small remote from the belt beneath his leather jacket.
So far, the prisoner had yet to notice his visitor.
But, he would . . .
Jason flicked the remotes switch and the magnetic field fizzled out of existence. As he stepped into the cell, Savage finally noticed that he was no longer alone. The villain sat up abruptly as the Red Hood used his remote to activate the field once more. It wouldn't do for the bastard to escape, not that he would be in any condition for it soon.
"How did you do that?" Savage demanded. "I was told the cell was guarded by wards to prevent anyone from entering."
"Then, you weren't listening closely," Red Hood told him. "The wards prevent anyone 'magical' from entering and you from exiting. The ward don't do shit about someone like me."
Savage narrowed his eyes. "I don't know you. I recognize your 'hood', however. A colleague of mine told me he once wore one like it but, you are not him."
Your 'colleague' didn't wear anything like mine," Jason gritted out through his teeth.
"So, what is it you wish from me?"
Jason pocketed the remote and lifted his hands to his helmet. He dropped it to the floor beside his feet. Savage frowned. The one in front of him wore a red mask beneath the helmet. The youngster could hardly be called a man yet.
"Paranoid much?" Savage asked with a smirk, indicating the redundancy of the mask.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Am I supposed to know you?" He began laughing.
"You stabbed my brother," Jason growled.
One of Savage's eyebrows rose, intrigued. "Your brother?"
"Don't recognize me yet, Savage?"
Vandal shrugged. Not that he cared, but this was more entertaining than staring at the blank walls of his cell. "Sorry," he said to annoy his tormentor. "I can't say that I do."
"Let me help you out. I'm the man who is going to kill you," Jason pulled his gun free and pointed it at Savage's forehead. A small red dot appeared to the area directly between the villain's eyes.
"I'm not sure you know who I am," Vandal told him. "I am immortal, boy. I cannot die. You cannot kill me."
It was Jason's turn to shrug. "I vote that we test that theory," he said and pulled the trigger.
The back of Vandal Savage's head exploded out onto the wall behind him. Blood, pieces of brain matter, and shards of bone slid down the wall in a sort of macabre-looking waterfall. Savage dropped to the floor at Jason's feet like a felled tree.
But, outside of the cell, with the sound dampener activated, not a sound was heard.
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Jason
Standing there, Jason watched carefully. For long moments, nothing happened. Savage merely laid there like so much roadkill but, even if Savage didn't know who Red Hood was, Jason Todd was familiar with Vandal Savage. But, for several long and satisfying moments, Vandal Savage was dead.
Eventually, the corpse on the floor twitched. Had he not been looking for it so closely, Jason might have missed the fingers moving. As he watched, the back of the head began to pull itself together. New brain matter plumped up, newly-replaced bone slid back into place, the skin knitting itself together over it all. New hair sprouted wherever brand-new skin appeared, but the hair that remained was still soaked through with gore.
Savage groaned, and Jason's lips lifted at the pain-filled sound. So, Savage was immortal, but he could also be killed, and the death and resurrection appeared to be extremely uncomfortable for the imperishable villain. When he could speak, he glared hatefully at his uninvited guest.
"You little shit!" he roared. "You dare . . .!"
Jason smiled slightly, encouraged by the immortal's ire. "Now, that is a nifty-looking trick. I wonder . . ." Jason leaned down to ask, "Did it hurt? 'Cause . . . you know, it looked like it hurt."
"I told you I cannot die," Savage yelled at him as he climbed clumsily to his feet. "You wasted your bullet, boy."
Jason pretended to think on this for a second, then shook his head. "Nah . . . I don't think so. You want to know why?"
He didn't wait for Savage to reply simply because he didn't care what the man said. Jason was here for retribution. "I'll tell you," he volunteered. "See, I think what I did to you hurt. I think that when you put yourself back together later, that it hurts as well. And, well," he shrugged, "that kind of makes it all worthwhile."
Jason lifted his gun suddenly and shot him again. Savage was as unprepared for the second bullet as he had been for the first one. It plowed through the exact same spot as the first, and for a second time, Savage's head blew out in the back. The immortal fell once again to the floor in a lifeless heap. The pose was very nearly the same as it was before and the wall behind him began to look like something out of a horror flick.
Since he was going to be here a while, Jason leaned against the wall beside the forcefield. Might as well get comfortable while he waited for Savage to put himself back together again. He checked his watch. Five minutes passed before the villain groaned again, picking himself up off the floor.
Vandal whirled on Jason this time. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Why don't you tell me," Jason murmured, pulling the trigger a third time.
This time, Savage tried to avoid the bullet, but didn't move fast enough. Instead of between the eyes, this time the bullet entered the man's temple, causing the left side of Savage's face to disintegrate from the powerful ammunition the boy carried. Savage collapsed once again while Jason prepared to wait.
They weren't done by half. Dick would be suffering from Savage's actions for the rest of his life. The fucker deserved to suffer for more than a few paltry minutes before returning to his perfect immortal health.
Several minutes later, Savage pushed himself up into a sitting position, resting his arm across his knees. "If Nightwing is your brother, I hear tell he still lives. Why do all this if he isn't dead?"
Jason's eyes narrowed as he leaned down, nostrils flaring in anger. "Because it entertains me, you immortal piece of shit," he snarled as he pulled the trigger again.
He's going to be getting pissed, Jason decided. He moved to the other side of the door.
When Vandal awoke, he leapt to his feet with a roar, but the red-hooded one wasn't there. He hesitated only a second before spinning around. Jason shot him in the chest, then put another round in his head before his body could begin to fall. It was a classic double-tap.
The bullet rolled off Savage's chest after his body expelled it, making a small slinking noise when it bounced off the tile floor, enough to warn Jason that the man was healed. Vandal climbed to his feet and turned to face the boy.
"What part of immortal do you not understand?" he asked him carefully as if he were talking to a slow-witted imbecile. "You will run out of bullets eventually, and I will still be here at the end of it."
"Yeah, that's what you keep telling me. But, you see, I have this theory," Jason told him. "Are you truly immortal or do you just have a large allotment of times that you can come back? Who's to say that this time wasn't your last time? That if I shot you again, that you might be well and truly gone?"
"You waste my time." Savage growled.
"I'll just have to make it up to you in your next life." Jason pulled the trigger.
Savage returned to consciousness with a roar. "Quit doing . . ." His words were cut off as the next bullet tore through his throat.
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Savage
Vandal fell back. This time, it took several seconds before the darkness overtook him. He hated waiting for it. It was as the boy had said. Death did hurt as did his resurrection every damned time, but he had long ago learned to put the pain away during his death throes. If only the boy wasn't so damned infuriating. His anger was making it difficult to concentrate, so he was feeling every prick and painful tingle as his nerves knitted themselves back together.
He awoke with a sore throat, damn it.
"Are you done?" he croaked. His voice sounded hoarse when he spoke.
"Not even a little." Jason murmured.
As the pain slowly faded, Savage awoke annoyed. "Don't let me bore you," he grumbled, shoving himself to his feet.
His clothes were uncomfortably sticky with the cooling blood, his hair was matted with gore. He would have to be in the shower for hours to get it all out. If he didn't, the stench of death would follow him until all the rotting flesh was finally gone.
"No worries. I'm good," Jason smirked.
Savage opened his eyes to the ceiling - again. He frowned. It, too, had flecks of his blood marring its pristine white surface. How had it managed to spray so high? The ceiling of the cell was at least 15 feet high.
"I know you're back," Jason called out to him.
"You are an annoying, little flea," Vandal snapped. "Eventually, you will run out of bullets and then, what will you do? When I have my revenge, you will beg for death ere I'm finished with you."
Jason laughed, unconcerned. "I hope you don't have anything else planned for the afternoon, then. My magazine holds seventeen rounds. I have seven remaining."
"Only seven?" Savage rolled to his side, laughing. "Well, have at it, then. Let's get this over with."
Jason lifted the left side of his jacket to reveal a second firearm. "This one holds seventeen, too," he told him conversationally. "As does the four extra magazines I have in my pockets, and the six I keep in my belt."
Vandal scowled. "Were you expecting to fight off an army?"
"Failure to prepare means preparing to fail," Jason quoted blithely. Bruce would be proud. Batman lamented that Jason never paid enough attention to the lessons he attempted to teach him.
The groan Vandal emitted the next time consciousness swept over him was long and frustrated.
"This grows old . . ."
He awoke annoyed. The little shit didn't even bother with conversation the last time.
Vandal opened his eyes. He was losing count. How many times had the little shit killed him? Pretending weakness, Savage hoped to lure his tormentor into a false sense of security, and then, when the time was right, he pounced.
When Vandal awoke this time, it was with his face pressed into the corner of his cell and his head bent at an unusual angle. His body was bunched up as if his already-dead corpse had plowed face-first into the wall. Though his memory of the altercation was slow in coming, he had no doubt that this had been exactly what had occurred. Savage hated to admit it, but he ached all over. The pain wouldn't last – it never lasted – but, he was having a difficult time rising above it.
He shoved away from the wall and rolled over into a sitting position, struggling to contain the moan of pain the movement caused him. He found the boy back in his original spot. It was the cleanest area left in the blood-soaked cell, but the boy was not without evidence of his activities. Blood splattered his clothing, staining his shirt, jacket, and the cargo pants he wore. He even had some droplets . . .
"You have some of my . . . um, it's on your face - right there," Vandal told him, circling a finger above an area on his own face.
"I'll shower . . . later." Jason said with a nod. He didn't bother wiping the flecks of blood away.
"What exactly are you trying to prove here?" Savage asked. Did he sound tired? He hoped not. He had never, in his 50,000 years of life, ever died and been resurrected so often in so short of time. It was exhausting.
Jason's eyebrow lifted. "Prove? Me? Nothing."
"Then why do all this? Your brother lives." Savage argued.
"Why?" The boy grew grim, and Vandal knew he could count this remaining life in seconds. "You may not be able to die permanently, Savage," Jason snarled, "but, I mean to make you wish that you could."
Vandal laughed. It was meant to sound derisive but came out weary. "You don't have enough bullets on you for that," he muttered.
"You're repeating yourself." Jason told him. "And, I don't care."
"Eventually, I will escape this place," Savage told him. "I always do . . . And then, I will find you. I will torture you for months and make your death last for weeks before I spread whatever is left of you into the four winds. No one will ever find your body."
The edges of the boy's lips quirked up, as if he were amused by Savage's threats. "Been there; done that. Have the t-shirt." He straightened and pulled out his second pistol. "But, maybe we should play this another way."
Vandal screamed as Jason placed two bullets into each of the villain's knees and one in his stomach.
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Jason
Jay holstered both of his weapons and bent to pick up his helmet.
"There are always consequences to your actions, Savage," Jason said as he settled the helmet over his head. "You think about that as you sit there and bleed out."
With that, he fingered the switch on the remote, letting himself out of the cell and put the forcefield back into place. Walking over to the console, Jason picked up his hacking device and tucked it into his belt. With all the precautions in place, no one was worried that Vandal Savage would escape, but Hawkgirl would still be back any second to check on him.
That she hadn't interrupted him already, surprised him a little, not that it mattered any longer. He had accomplished what he had set out to do. It wasn't enough – Would never be enough – but, it would have to do. He hoped that Dick appreciated the effort, although Goldie would likely never admit it even if he did.
That's okay, though, Jay thought to himself. At least, I'll be able to sleep after this. Maybe, better than I have in a long while.
He climbed back up into the ventilation shaft, pulling the grate up with a length of bat-line. Splattered with Savage's blood would turn too many heads, he would need to go back the way he came. Jason just finished screwing in the last of the bolts when the door to the brig slid open. He didn't stay to watch the fireworks that would happen once Hawkgirl got a look at Vandal's cell. He planned to be on earth before the alarm went off and the Watchtower was placed on lockdown.
They'd know it was him. There were security cameras all over the place. Jason had disabled all but one of them before he had entered the room. The one left only showed him walking to the console and then, after – He checked his watch – fifty minutes, a blood-covered version of him walking back before leaving the room. They may not approve, but damned if anyone would blame him for this.
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Clark
Superman glanced at the figure in the bed, grimacing. He was supposed to be invincible but seeing Dick like this hurt as much as a pound of kryptonite. Of all people, this should have never happened to him. Images of the little nine-year-old flipping all over the Batcave, full of questions, laughter, and this kind of never-ending, effervescent energy, flew through his head. Dick had already been Robin for the better part of a year before Superman had gotten the chance to meet him. The flood of memories forced the Man of Steel to look away.
The person he needed to speak to stood in front of the window, looking out but unseeing. The sight of the earth, spinning below them like a beautiful, multi-colored marble hung on a backdrop of black velvet and diamonds was wasted on him.
"Is he asleep?" Clark asked as a way of greeting. He already knew the answer to that from the rhythm of the boy's breathing and the slow, steady beat of his heart.
Bruce's cowl lay discarded on the chair nearby. He wasn't surprised by his visitor. Although, Clark was the one with super hearing, he knew that Bruce had been aware of his presence even before he entered the room. He didn't turn when he answered.
"He finally succumbed to the medication an hour ago," Bruce murmured. "You came to speak to me about Savage. Say what you want, Clark, I do not regret my actions in the least."
"It's not your actions I'm here to talk about." Clark saw that he had his friend's attention. "Red Hood visited Vandal Savage after we left the brig. I've been told that Red Hood is Jason. Bruce, is that true?"
"It is."
"How? How could it be? I went to his funeral." He shouldn't be shocked. It wasn't as though people haven't miraculously returned from the dead. Even he had done so once after being stabbed during a battle with Doomsday.
"He had help," Bruce said simply.
When no other information was forthcoming, Clark stepped up to the window beside his friend. Bruce could have been a statue for all the emotion he was showing. Even snapping Savage's neck had appeared to be a cold and calculated move on his part. Clark had overheard some of the criticism by those who didn't understand the man, but Clark knew better. He had long ago learned that the colder, more detached that Batman appeared, the greater the pain he felt.
There was nothing he wanted to do more than to let the man be, to let him grieve for what his son had lost. Leaving him alone seemed the only thing anyone could do to comfort the man, but they needed to discuss this. What Jason had done was beyond what was acceptable, even when consumed by grief and rage, and this was without the added concerns over the breach in the Watchtower's security.
"No one's sure how he got in." Superman said quietly so as not to disturb the boy's sleep. "If it were Dick instead of Jason, the question of how would be moot, but as of right now, the Watchtower's security has been compromised. We'll need a full overhaul with diagnostics to plug any weaknesses left behind."
Batman grunted his acknowledgement. "It shouldn't be an issue. I can do a scan and run a few scenarios if you like, but the system should be fine. No worries."
Clark gaped at him. "No -? How can you say that? Red Hood entered the Watchtower without the computer logging his arrival. No one was aware of his presence. That alone is cause for concern. But, he did so for the express purpose of breaking into the brig to torture our prisoner. He was there for nearly an hour and not a single alarm went off in all that time."
He didn't know what he was expected, but certainly more than he received. "Bruce . . ."
"Jason . . . has some problems, but he wouldn't endanger the Watchtower or risk Savage escaping." Bruce told him finally. "Not with Dick being in traction and unable to move."
Superman glanced back at the bed, but there was no variation in the boy's breathing or his heartrate. This could turn into an argument and Clark had no desire to wake the boy by accident. He would need to keep his voice soft.
"I came here as soon as I saw the video. I honestly expected to find him here," Clark said. "It seems as inconceivable that Jason would have left the Watchtower without checking on Dick as it does to imagine his psychosis. He's not the boy I remember, Bruce. You should have said something about his instability. Jason shouldn't be walking around out there when he is obviously a ticking time bomb. Who knows what he could do? Savage is only alive now because his body can regenerate itself."
"Jason is not a danger to the public," Bruce assured him. "Criminals, however . . ."
"Criminals! Speaking of which, there's a report about seventeen criminals being taken to Gotham General over the course of last night. Put there by a young man wearing a leather jacket and a red helmet . . ." Clark ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"Are they all still alive?"
Superman gaped at him. "Yes, but it was a close thing. Bruce, what you did to Savage . . . I get it. You went in knowing that he would survive and be healed. I allowed it because you needed to punish him somehow for what he did to Dick, but Jason? We don't deal in torture, Bruce."
Batman stiffened. Clark could hear his jaw creaking with tension.
"You allowed me?" he said, low in his throat.
It was a threatening sound to be sure. If Clark wasn't Kryptonian, he might have been intimidated. It was the truth that when having to confront the Bat with unpleasantness, more times than not, it was Superman who did it.
"Do you, even for a second, believe that I didn't want to do what Jason did to that animal? If there was anyone I could unleash on without breaking my vow, it is Savage. But with a room full of concerned colleagues ready to drag me out at a moment's notice, what was the use. I won't waste the energy. But, if you think I'm going to chastise or punish Jason for what he did . . . you don't know me very well at all." Bruce growled. "I say to you again, no one is dead, although, had Savage gotten his way, Dick should have been."
Clark sucked in his breath. "I understand how you must feel but Bruce, if you don't deal with Jason, then the League will have no choice but to step in and take care of this ourselves."
Batman spun around, but it was Bruce Wayne glaring at him through those lenses. "You think you understand? Jason is back through some miracle, but I nearly lost him all over again because I went easy on Joker."
"Breaking two-thirds of that psychopathic clown's bones was easy?" Clark scoffed.
"What the hell is Dick going to think if I do nothing? Savage is so long-lived that anything done to him is less than nothing."
"You're not going to lose Dick," Clark tried to assure him.
"There are other ways to lose someone besides death, Clark."
"Jason . . ."
"You will leave Jason to me," Bruce interrupted. "He's not your concern."
"And what about the breach to our security? Shouldn't that be cause for concern?"
Batman turned back to staring out the window. "Cyborg is going over the system even as we speak. I will find a moment to look into some new preventative measures against hacking into the zeta-tube later, but I'm not concerned. This wasn't a regular breach. Jason isn't a hacker, or at least not one on a level that the League should be concerned with. If I'm correct, and I believe I am, this was Dick's doing."
Clark raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Dick? Dick's in no position to hack into the zeta-tube's protocols."
"It wouldn't have had to have happened today. After Savage's first attempt to take over the League, I suspected that Robin wanted to make certain that he had a backdoor handy, just in case something like that ever happened again. What I hadn't expected was for him to have shared the information with Jason . . . Or for Dick to not have changed the codes after Jason's death."
"Do we need to worry that Jason will return? Moving Savage is risky, but we can't have a wild card going in and out of his cell, and the torture - Bruce, that was . . ."
"He won't return," Bruce assured him.
"How do you know that?"
"Jason did what he had to do. He's done."
"And that's it? Has having a psychopath on the loose in Gotham has become the norm for you, then?"
Bruce glared at him. "This is a family matter, Clark. It will be handled within the family."
Clark's mouth tightened unhappily. "We used to be like family . . . once."
"You're going to wake him," Bruce snapped, ignoring the observation.
Unhappy with the course of their conversation, Clark nodded at the dismissal. "Very well. But, Bruce . . ."
"No one touches Jason, Clark."
"Fine. I'll tell the others. We'll expect you to handle this." Clark moved toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "For what it's worth, though, I'm sorry. Dick was one of the best. He didn't deserve this."
"He's still alive, Clark. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't speak about him in the past tense," Bruce replied coldly.
He blinked in surprise. He hadn't realized what he was saying. "Ah, hell. I apologize, Bruce. I didn't realize – I didn't mean . . .Shit." Clark ran a hand over his face. "I was speaking of Nightwing, not of Dick himself."
Silence answered him. Sighing, Clark left the room feeling like he had accomplished nothing.
Let us know what you all think! And thanks for reading!
Also unfortunately we'll be taking about a 4 month break from posting. Real life has gotten in the way a bit these last few months and we need sometime to get everything caught up.
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