First off, I am indeed aware that I have not updated in almost a month. For the millionth time, I give my sincerest apology. I'm legitimately trying to get these chapters out faster, but it just never happens. Second, this chapter may be confusing for readers without much knowledge of the comics. But I'll explain at the end of the chapter so as to keep it a surprise. Though I'm sure a lot of you will probably get what's going on pretty quickly.
The boy stood with his back against the hard grainy wall and with his slender yet muscular arms crossed over his chest. His green eyes swept over the cavern, taking everything in, but still not seeing everything. Every time he came down he was able to pick out something different that he had not seen in his previous visits. A few bats fluttered among the stalactites, waking from their long day of resting, each ready for a long night of stalking their prey. A shiny copper penny loomed in one corner while other trophies pale in comparison to it. The cave was dark and damp. It smelled of moist earth that intoxicated the boy with its rich stench. The only source of light was from cases that held rows of uniforms and from the large computer that illuminated the figure sitting before it.
The boy scoffed at the figure huddled before the computer like a vampire cowering from the light. On the bright computer screen was a picture of a one-eyed masked man that seemed to stare straight into his soul. He shivered slightly; even as a picture Deathstroke was still a creep. He hated Deathstroke. The mercenary was the cause of all his misery. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his nerves. Deathstroke wasn't the cause of his pain and neglect. Golden Boy was. However, Deathstroke and Golden Boy seemed to be intertwined in some undecided fate. Get rid of one end and then the other will be out of his hair. Like a swarm of bees; if the queen is killed, the rest would commit suicide. He just had to find the queen bee.
Frowning, the boy raised his blue eyes to study the man at the computer. Bruce had only returned from the Watchtower an hour prior to when the boy entered. Upon his return, he had gone to work, searching for the missing Boy Wonder. The boy paid that no mind. He needed to find the queen bee. It seemed as though Deathstroke held all the cards. He had Golden Boy in his grasp, and he had the whole JLA on his tail. In a way, the boy admired the deadly mercenary. He was strong and smart. Who else could evade the Justice League for so long? The teenager grimaced. But why go after Golden Boy, the partner of Batman? To anyone it seemed plain; Deathstroke loved living on the edge. However, to him it seemed that there was a deeper motive. He eyed the computer monitor and idly wondered if he could conveniently spill coffee over the circuits and destroy all the information on Deathstroke. That would keep Golden Boy out of the picture, at least for a little while.
Turning on his heel, he entered the dimly lit elevator that would take him back to the surface of Wayne Manor. When he reached the top, the boy stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered out of the large grandfather clock. Running a hand through his black hair, he attempted to mess it up, for he hated the slicked back style Alfred had condemned him to. Closing the clock, he walked from the sitting room into the main hall. Outside, the sun was setting and twilight had settled over the city, turning everything a warm orange. But he knew looks could be deceiving; Gotham was a dangerous city, no matter how peaceful it looked. He knew that from years of living on the streets. Taking a seat at the bottom of the grand staircase, he laced up his shoes and looked around to make sure no one was watching. Hesitantly standing up, he made a move for the front door.
"And where do you think you're going, Master Todd?"
Jason cringed and turned to face Alfred. "Just out to the gardens for some fresh air."
The old butler frowned in disapproval. "You and I both know that is as big of a lie as Bruce Wayne being an ordinary, billionaire playboy." Alfred paused. "I believe a punishment is in order. A week's worth of dusting sounds suitable."
Jason narrowed his eyes. "You can't do that."
"I can, and I have," Alfred stated. "Come help me set the table for dinner."
"Can't we eat in the living room like normal people?"
"Since when has anyone who has lived under this roof been normal?"
"Can't we pretend?"
Alfred chuckled. "The china and silver is in the cupboard in the dining room."
Jason sighed and trudged towards the dining hall. He hadn't bothered to take his shoes off because he was angry at Alfred. Although, tracking mud through the house was hardly a punishment, for Jason was sure Alfred actually enjoyed cleaning. Grumbling as he went, he entered the dining room and yanked open the cabinet, not caring if any of the fine china got broken in the process. Pulling out the plates, he set two spots, knowing Bruce would not join them. Jason had never seen Alfred eat, so he didn't set a place for him, but he knew that the old man would get on his case if he didn't set one for the man of the house. Taking the silver from its padded wooden case, he arranged it nicely around the plates and stepped back to admire his work.
Alfred entered the room a few minutes later. His arms were piled high with silver platters filled with delicacies. Jason had to admit that no matter how angry he got at Alfred, his cooking would always be amazing. He was practically drooling by the time Alfred set the platters down. A wonderful smell filled the room, and Jason was surprised he didn't drown in his own saliva. When the food was uncovered, it took all of his willpower not to dive in face first. On the table sat a juicy roast beef that was practically falling apart before his eyes, buttery baked potatoes, and a bowl of green beans. Alfred began dishing out the food when a strange sound rose in his throat. For a moment Jason was concerned, but then he recognized it as the sound Alfred made when something was bothering him.
"The fork goes on the left by itself, Master Jason," Alfred said.
Jason rolled his eyes. "It makes more sense for the pointy objects to go together."
"Why is that?"
He thought for a second. "Say someone breaks into your house while you're eating, and you reach for the knife and accidentally grab the spoon?"
Alfred sighed. "Point taken. When you have your own house and family, you may set the table the way you want. For now you live in this house and I would prefer if you set the table the right way. I've grown tired of this, honestly; this is the seventh time you have done it. Master Dick learned after his first time."
Jason clenched his fists. "Are you going to start comparing me to him too? Because I get enough of that from Bruce."
"I suggest you watch your language," Alfred scolded. "Now let's talk about this like civilized people."
Grimacing, Jason sat down at the table; he had nothing more to say to Alfred. Shoveling a forkful of potatoes in his mouth, he ignored the old butler as he tried to get him to talk. Much to Jason's delight he gave up after a while and disappeared into the kitchen.
The boy stared at Bruce's unoccupied seat and then stared at his own in return. Had that been where Dick sat when he lived at the manor? Jason scowled, not wanting to think about it. Dick was the favorite first child that would always receive a bigger portion of Bruce's heart. While Jason was the forgotten second child, who was a sorry little boy compared to the first. Jason hated Dick, though he had never met him and never wished to. Anything Jason could do, Dick could do ten times better, and Bruce never failed to remind him of that.
Night had finally fallen over the dismal city. It wouldn't be long until the creeps and thugs crawled out of their hellholes like the bugs they were, and attempted to rule the streets. A yellow batsignal glittered across the Gotham skyline. Finishing the last of his meal, Jason let his mind ponder on what the problem may have been. He hoped that the Joker had broken out of Arkham again. Jason was dying for some action, though Bruce didn't let him handle anything more than petty thieves and thugs. According to Alfred, he was just supposed to be a myth for the time being. The way Jason saw it was that he was just a cover for Dick. Be seen and not heard. Scratch that, he was hardly allowed to be seen. After all, he was a myth.
Glancing at the kitchen door, Jason stood up and grabbed Bruce's plate. He exited the dining room and made his way towards the entrance to the Batcave. The whole time he tried to come up with a reason for Bruce to take him on patrol. What was the point? Batman had gone without a Robin for years. Why would he need one all of a sudden? Jason was ready to punch somebody's lights out by the time he reached the grandfather clock and turned the hands in the correct direction. He was so ready to go on patrol. Entering the elevator, Jason tapped his foot the whole way down. Once in the cave he nearly screamed in rage. Bruce was gone and the Batmobile was missing. Why would he wait up for him?
Jason sat Bruce's plate near the computer and sat down in the leather chair that very act seemed to fill him with power. His eyes fell on the Redbird. He could have taken it for a spin, but he didn't feel like facing Bruce's wrath. Newspaper clippings littered the desk in front of the monitor, all of which had been taken from Dick's office in the Titans Tower. Deathstroke's cold eye glared up at him and he had to turn over several of the clippings. Jason reached forward and grabbed a large evidence bag that contained Deathstroke's cracked mask. Apparently the mask contained a chemical reagent that made whoever inhaled it see things. Jason didn't really know the details. From what he saw, Dick was obsessed with Deathstroke. The idiot probably wanted to get kidnapped. Leaning back in the chair, Jason wondered if Golden Boy was alive. It wouldn't make a difference to him if he was or not.
Commissioner Gordon fumbled with his match, willing the damn thing to light. A cigarette hung from his loose lips and a dozen buds smoked to the stump littered the rooftop. His pipe lay abandoned on the concrete ledge. Finally getting the coffin nail lit, he took a long breath and exhaled the smoke. Placing his hands on the ledge, he leaned forward and gazed up at the starless sky. The night was warm and seemingly peaceful, but Gordon knew all of that could change in a matter of seconds. Somehow he knew it wouldn't be long until one of the loonies escaped from the asylum. Jim furrowed his brow; come to think of it, it had been months since any major tragedies had happened. It was almost as if all the villains knew something terrible had happened in Batman's life, and they all knew to stay away. Sometimes the commissioner wondered how he managed to get tied into that crazy life, but looking back he could never remember. That was the life he led, and that was all that mattered.
Taking another puff of his cigarette, Gordon couldn't remember the last time he had one. He laughed bitterly; actually, he could. It was when Harvey Dent confessed to the murder of Robin. Blowing out a lungful of smoke, Gordon gazed down at the street where a young couple walked. He wanted to scream at them to get home, but refrained from doing so. It was useless. Didn't they know that Gotham was a dangerous place during the day, let alone night? For a moment Jim watched the embers burn a bright red at the end of his cigarette. Then he flicked the ashes away and placed the cancer stick back to his laps. Turning forward, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he found himself face to face with the one and only Dark Knight.
Batman plucked the cigarette from Commissioner Gordon's mouth and extinguished it beneath his boot. Gordon immediately studied the man's face; it was set in a scowl and his eyes glared right through him. To most that was his default facial expression, but the commissioner could see the worry and pain etched deep within his face like it was set in stone. Turning away, he pulled a pack of cigarettes, but instead of grabbing another coffin nail he tossed the whole pack over the ledge. Damn the littering laws, he had more important things to worry about. Gordon once again leaned against the edge of the wall and looked out over the city.
"He's dead, isn't he?"
"Robin is alive."
"Which one?" Gordon snapped. "The boy in knew, or this new one you pulled out of your ass?"
Batman was silent for a moment. "Both."
Something clicked in Jim's brain. "Was this all a scam?"
Batman actually sounded surprised. "What?"
"When Robin was shot by the Joker and took that fall, the media pronounced him dead. After speaking with you, you assured me that he was not, but you said that 'Robin' should be left dead. Is that what you're doing now? Is the boy safe and sound somewhere?"
"No, Robin is still in his captor's clutches."
Gordon swung around, his trench coat fluttering behind him. By that point Batman had moved away to turn off the batsignal. The commissioner was about to explode like a bomb from anger. His whole body was like a live wire as his hands clenched at his sides and his eyes blazed. Seldom did he lose his temper, but Gordon seemed to have a short fuse when it came to children, especially Robin. Jim had watched the boy grow into the person he was. He had been there when Robin made his first appearance, and he had been there when he had departed Gotham for Jump. Truth be told, Gordon was rather fond of the boy. Robin was like a favorite nephew to him. Crossing the rooftop he did not hesitate to get in Batman's face. He jabbed a finger into the Dark Knight's chest and sneered up at him. It was a wonder that he wasn't foaming from the mouth.
"Then how the hell do you know he's alive?" Jim snarled. "Was there ransom? An exchange? Proof of life?"
"No," Batman said. "A few months ago the JLA received video footage in which we saw Robin being reabducted after he escaped."
"Months?" he asked. "A lot can change in a couple of months."
"Robin is alive."
"If you say so," Gordon grumbled. "Isn't he your son or something?"
"Biologically, no."
Another flare of anger shot through the police commissioner. How could Batman say that Robin was not his son? It wasn't as if he could go to Rent-A-Kid and ask one of them to be his sidekick. Hell, Barbara wasn't his biological daughter, but she was still his daughter. It wasn't blood that made people family, but the ties that bind. Couldn't Batman see it? Gordon calmed himself; he didn't know Batman's past, he couldn't be quick to judge. Shoving his hands in his coat pockets, he sighed and let his mind move onto the second Boy Wonder. Who was he? Was he Batman's son? Gordon shook his head. Children had no business in adult affairs. It would not be long until someone got killed.
"What about this new kid?"
"He was a troubled child living on the streets. I showed him a new path."
Gordon frowned. "He's the first one's replacement. That's why you're keeping him hidden?"
Batman just scowled. "He is not a replacement. I did this for his own good. He started his training before Robin was kidnapped."
"Then why is he so secret? He's just a folk tale in the media's eyes."
"To keep them guessing, to cover for Robin's kidnapping and to protect his identity."
"So you're using him?"
Batman gritted his teeth. "You think I knew Robin was going to get abducted?"
Gordon sighed. "I guess not. But I am going to say what I said before. If any harm should befall this boy, I will drop on you from a great height."
Alfred was waiting for Jason when he stepped out of the block and back into the mansion. The old butler wore a frown and there was a disapproving glint in his eyes. In that moment Jason knew that their conversation from earlier was by no means over. He inwardly cringed; why had he said those things? He didn't want Alfred hovering over him like a helicopter parent. Then again, having Alfred around wasn't so bad. It reminded him that at least one of his parents cared. Bruce was always too busy chasing after Golden Boy and Deathstroke to remember the new addition to the family. Jason didn't crave attention from Alfred, but it was nice to be noticed from time to time. Crossing his arms, Jason glared at the butler, not quite willing to talk.
"Would you like to talk, Master Jason?"
"No," he said shortly.
"You seemed to have something to say at supper," Alfred pried. "Come now, you know that you can tell me anything."
Jason wanted to go off in a rage. He wanted to tear through the house like a tornado and destroy everything in his path. His mind told him to run and get out of there, but his feet refused to move. Deep down Jason felt something jerk; he wanted to talk, he wanted to express his hatred for Dick Grayson, the favorite son. Somehow Jason knew that wouldn't go over well with Alfred. The old butler would side with Golden Boy and he would scold Jason for hating someone he had never met. How could he hate him? Because he was perfect in every way, shape, and form, at least in Bruce's eyes. He rolled his eyes; sibling rivalry. Jason's blood boiled; no, Golden Boy would never be his brother. He would die before admitting that they were adopted brothers.
"I just don't like being compared to Golden Boy."
"Golden Boy?"
Busted. "Dick. I am not him."
Alfred's face softened. "No one said you were."
"Bruce wants me to be him," Jason said bitterly.
"Surely you don't believe that."
"Surely I do!" he snapped. "'Dick would have executed that move much better. Dick would have hacked the motion sensors faster. Dick would have set the silverware right. Dick would have done that differently. Dick was better than you.' Newsflash! I'm not Dick! I don't want to be Dick!"
"Master Jason-"
"Don't 'Master Jason' me! You're almost as bad as Bruce!" Jason huffed. "I still can't believe that you, Bruce, and the Justice League are wasting precious time looking for a dead guy. Time that could be better spent."
"Excuse me?" Alfred gasped.
"You heard me." Jason snarled. "He is dead. D-E-A-D. Dick is dead! He is never coming back! You and Bruce need to get out of fantasy land and realize that! Golden Boy is gone!"
"Go to your room."
Alfred had not yelled, but Jason wished he had. His voice was low and dangerous. A tone the boy had never heard him take on. It was laced with venom, anger, and nearly undetectable grief. Jason was honestly scared. The icy hand of fear gripped his heart and squeezed tight. He knew not to argue with Alfred at that point because it was useless. Instead he turned on his heel and ran out of the room. Hot, salty tears welled in his eyes and threatened to spill over. Furiously wiping them away, Jason let out a cry of pure rage. Alfred had been his only hope. He was supposed to understand, but instead he got mad. Alfred always understood. He had understood the grief and anger he had felt when he had been pulled off of the streets. Why could he not understand Jason's hatred toward Dick?
Jason ran down the east wing hallway in search of his bedroom. He often found himself lost within Wayne Manor, but he found his room relatively easily. Once inside he slammed the door behind him and locked it. God, he needed nicotine. Moving to his bed, he reached between the mattress and produced a pack of cigarettes and hastily tore it open. Removing one, he pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit it up. Crawling onto his bed, Jason took a long hit and blew a ring of smoke. Bruce had made him quit smoking when he moved in, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. It wasn't long until his doorknob rattled and a knock came. Alfred insisted on being let in, but Jason wouldn't budge.
"Master Jason," Alfred called through the door. "We need to talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"If you really feel upset, then we must talk."
"Upset?" Jason scoffed. "No, upset was when I didn't get invited to Christmas dinner. I'm just plain pissed now."
"You know as well as I do that you were invited to Christmas dinner," Alfred reminded him. "The dinner was meant to introduce you to the League, and for you and Dick to finally meet. The whole thing was a surprise for Master Bruce. As you can see, things didn't go as planned."
"What about when the Titans came? I got kicked out of the house."
"You did not."
"No, you're right. Bruce told me it was a big house, get lost."
"Master Todd-"
"I'm done talking."
Alfred left after a few minutes. Jason was seething with anger. He felt like he was going to go off like a firecracker. Why didn't anyone understand him? Flicking his ashes in cup full of water, Jason took another drag of his cigarette. His eyes swept over his bureau where a million paper clippings had piled up. Jason had his own stash. Each clipping had a picture of Golden Boy staring into the camera. Jason was obsessed with finding out what made him so great. So far, he couldn't find anything. Reaching over, he extinguished his cigarette by rubbing it in the face of Golden Boy.
Yes, Charlie has done it. She has brought in Jason Todd. For those of you unfamiliar with him, he was the second Robin. And he's also arguably the second biggest little shit in the Batfamily. If you really want to know more about Jason, you can just ask me. Or you could look him up on Google, which is probably more reliable. And for you already familiar with Jason, what did you guys think about his introduction?
