The Red Right Hand

by Ophelia'song

Dick Grayson learns that some ghosts aren't so easily laid to rest when he returns to Gotham to visit his troubled friend Roy. In conversation, he learns some disturbing information about the man who once stood to destroy him—Slade. With his team on the verge of ruin, Nightwing finds himself in a dispute with the Justice League that may cost him his leadership and possibly more.

19. Blood Falls Not Far From The Wound

A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long. My Beta had a lot on his plate and I had to have another friend read through this before posting it, but she did an awesome job and I would like to take this time to thank her for all her hard work so, thank you Kaitlin, you're the best! As for the rest of you, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think, I'm hoping to update soon. Happy 4th of July

Chapter 18

Blood Falls Not Far From The Wound

The two girls walked down the cracked pavement beneath their feet, unsure of what to say to one another. Rose shoved her unsteady hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket, trying to shield them from the sight of the ethereal looking girl. She studied her profile a moment, taking in the unusual color of her violet eyes. They were very strange to her, yet she found their oddity quite beautiful, even through their all-knowing stare. Rose also couldn't help but notice how white she was, reminding her of a light December snowfall. It was nearly inhuman. Her raven hair only intensified its contrast, strengthening its winter glow, but even her hair color wasn't normal. It was very dark, almost too dark, but it held a peculiar shade of midnight that did not from nature, and possibly not even a bottle. Still, something was redeeming about her unconventional qualities, there was a distant warmth to her coldness, a brightness that sort of reminded Rose of the moon.

Raven glanced over at the younger girl, still peering up through her silver hair and ice blue eyes. "Didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to stare at people?"

"Sorry," Rose said a little embarrassed she was caught, "I just thought you were kinda pretty, is all."

Raven looked back at her crudely and raised one eyebrow at the compliment . "Uhh, thanks." She walked on ahead of Rose, unsure of where she was going, simply following the sidewalk as it stretched onward.

"You're new here, right?" Rose asked walking up beside her.

"Why, is my naïve and doe-eyed expression really that oblivious?" Raven replied flatly, and gave Rose a violet glance.

"No," Rose shrugged, "you just don't seem to have a sense of direction. Where you from?"

"Um," Raven muttered looking blankly at the foreign cityscape, "Jump."

"That's like a whole other planet." Rose had never been to Jump City before, but she had a good idea what it was like. She, unfortunately, had to listen to Johnny Rancid go on about it from time to time, somewhat pretending to care. She also knew her father had spent a great deal of time out there some years ago, but hadn't thought much about it otherwise.

"Yeah," Raven sighed, but noticed the rich character of her surrounding structures. "But I think I could get used this one."

"So what did you do in Jump City?" Rose asked as the two waited to cross a narrow side street.

"Um, I was a student. I just got my Master's Degree."

The light flashed for them to cross, and Raven again walked on ahead, Rose taken aback by the answer.

"Then what the hell are you doing hanging around with the Outlaws?"

Raven looked over at Rose and shrugged. "Jinx would call it, blindly following a man . I call it, babysitting ."

"Don't even get me started on that bitch," groaned a disgruntled Rose, her face expressing distaste.

"Yeah, she made it enviably clear she's not your biggest fan."

"Really? I didn't notice," she sang sardonically, "I was too busy waiting for her to have a coronary and die."

Raven let free a crass laugh and motioned to a bench up ahead. "So what did you do to get on her shit-list?"

"It's not what I did. It's who I fucking am ," Rose grumbled and sat down on the old bench. Raven sat beside her and pulled her blackened hair off her neck beneath high noon sun. "I don't know what she thinks I'm gonna do, but she doesn't trust me."

"Yeah, Jinx is like that. She doesn't trust me either," the empath sighed, pulling lightly at the ends of her hair.

"Yeah, but does she treat you like the ugly step-child every time you walk into a room?"

Raven peered up at her, feeling something of a profound bitterness trapped in those words. "No, but that's because Jinx and I have a sorted history together. And, over time, I think we've come to respect one another. But I understand where you're coming from."

Rose shook her head and huffed out a disgruntled breath. "God, if I could just even get her to tolerate me that would be great, but she just fucking hates me! You'd think I killed her dog or fucked her boyfriend."

"No, I fucked her boyfriend," Raven drawled, looking down.

"What?" Rose gasped, her jaw falling slack. "I think you just became my fucking hero!"

"It was not like the way it came out," Raven corrected, a little embarrassed with her brash tone. "It was more like they'd just broken up, and it was just a onetime deal."

"Oh my God, does she know!" Rose asked with a childish wonder.

"Oh yeah," Raven nodded, recalling the incident that pushed Jinx away from the Titans for good. "I told her myself. I thought she should hear it from me instead of it somehow making its way back to her. I even told her I was sorry and that it meant nothing."

"So what, she forgave you?"

"God no," Raven huffed, rolling her eyes. "She called me a cunt and slapped me, so hard, I actually thought she was gonna take my damn head off."

Rose giggled cynically. "Sounds like Jinx."

"Oh it was totally Jinx. Nobody touches Wally and gets away with it. She's very protective of what she feels is hers. " Raven added with her obvious deadpan. "And that's why I don't drink Tequila anymore."

"And you two like actually talk now?"

"Yeah, she's over it," the empath shrugged, "but at that moment, I think she thought I did it to spite her. I don't know maybe she still does?"

"Did you?"

"No, I did it because I was lonely, and Wally was there. He was a nice guy who made me laugh, I didn't care that he still loved her."

"Been there," Rose replied, leaning back on the bench with a thud.

Raven could feel how cold that statement was, how engorged with anguish, and its murky resentment, especially for her father . "Yeah, I kinda got that from you," Raven replied, "I take it your father lives by nothing will come of nothing?"

Rose's brow furrowed with curiosity, not understanding the statement and a crude expression filled her face.

"It's Shakespeare," Raven said, recognizing the look for what it was, as she'd seen on both Kory and (especially) Gar's faces' many times before.

"Yeah, I um, grew up in a brothel so as you can imagine the only Shakespeare I got was the occasional drunk John, spouting off some bullshit about Romeo & Juliet and once something about Faeries and dancing Asses…"

Raven giggled at Rose's boldness, finding humor in the quirky ignorance, her honesty refreshing. "That would be a Midsummer Night's Dream." She smiled warmly. "But uh, point taken."

"So what does that mean, nothing will come of nothing? I assume that means something?"

Raven pursed her lips together a moment, gathering her best recollection of the literature. It had been a few years since she'd read the play, so parts of it were murky. But there were moments of that first act she'd felt she'd actually lived.

"In the play, the protagonist, King Lear has three daughters, the youngest being Cordelia, who he favors. So Lear, being old, is getting his affairs in order and tells his three daughters that he will give the most of his estate to the daughter who loves him most . Now for Cordelia, being his favorite, this should be an easy victory, but as she sits and watches her father ask her sisters, who give lavish, but superficial speeches about how much they love their father and only him. However, Cordelia find this dishonest and even a little manipulative as she feels that real love is "Silent," and something to be shared with the few who deserve it. So when Cordelia is called upon, she only tells him that she loves her father the way a daughter should, "no more, no less " and includes that she will one day owe her devotion to her a husband when she marries. Lear then demands that she augment her claim and profess her love for him, which she refuses. Lear warns her that, "Nothing will come of nothing," and she once again refuses to speak his praises."

"So what happened?" Rose mused, her eyes holding a childish glint of curiosity. "Did she tell him that she only loved him?"

"No, she didn't, so he reluctantly disowned her. He was too egotistical to see that Cordelia did love him as much as any daughter should,, but he wanted her to love him the most, and she knew she couldn't give that. Unlike her sisters, she refused to lie to him, out of love, ironically, but that still wasn't good enough for Lear."

---

They waited by an alley not far from the steel yard, the chubby, well-dressed man looking down at his pocket watch. It was a little past noon now as the minute hand ticked on, counting each second that lead closer to 12:13.

"Should we head in, boss?" Butch asked glancing back through the rearview mirror.

"I suppose."

Cobblepot wasn't looking forward to this meeting. He knew all too well what this man was capable of, and, though he hated to admit it, he frightened him.

Butch stepped out of the car and opened his employer's door. Cobblepot shimmied out of his seat and firmly placed his feet on the sidewalk. He looked around, taking a moment to analyze of his surroundings. This was far from his territory and there was little to be done if this meeting went south.

"Everything okay, Boss?"

He looked over to the massive man, a perplexed look poignant on his bulbous face. "It's quiet… too quiet."

"Oh, what's a matta, Cobby?" A flamboyant voice said from behind him, a gun firmly placed at the back of his head. "You find the silence a little unnerving or someth'n?

"Harley—" Butch began, reaching for his gun when the clown pulled out a second handgun and pointed it at him.

"Ahaha," Harley tisked, "I wouldn't do that if I was you, Butchy," she smiled mischievously.

"This wasn't part of the deal, we came here to talk," Cobblepot hissed, trying to keep his head on straight.

"Oh I know," Harley giggled. "I may be blonde, but I ain't soft. Mista J simply wants me to ensure you gentlemen make it there in one piece … or two, I can't recall!"

"I think one will do just fine, Ms. Quinzel," a hearty accent added.

Harley removed her attention from her prey and placed it on the man standing behind her, a semi-automatic now to her head.

"Wintergreen, thank God," Cobblepot rejoiced, for once happy to see the man.

"Don't get too excited, I'm here to make sure that Slade's requests be carried out in the manner he wishes, and for that to happen, Slade needs you two alive ."

"What about Lil' ol' me," Harley cooed. "Surely a handsome gentleman, such as yourself, wouldn't hurt a lady?"

"Last I checked, Harley, you are hardly what I would consider a lady ."

"Mmm," Harley pouted, "you couldn't even handle a woman like me!"

"Nor do I want too," the Brit replied, unamused. "Now why don't you make yourself useful and take us to the Joker?"

"Fine," she sighed, still miffed, "but only cause my Puddin's expect'y." Harley holstered her weapons with a bored look, Wintergreen's gun still in her face. "Hey Perce Morgan , I know you're happy to see me an'all, but'y don't have to keep pointing your gun at me."

"Darling, my gun wants little to do with you."

"You Brits are no fun," Harley fumed.

"That's the British way I'm afraid," the man said thinking of a drier stereotype. "Now why don't you be a good girl and take us to see your daddy ."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going, I'm going, slow your roll, Professor Elemental ," she said. "Alright boys, follow me, and please keep your hands and feet within the vehicle at all times."

"This is gonna be painful, isn't?" Butch groaned.

"It already is," the chubby man added as Harley skipped by and headed into the alley.

The three men followed, watching as she pointed to things, giving them some witty commentary, such as where the best place to "hunt homeless people" was, and "where you should consider hiding the body." The three men mostly rolled their eyes, they all knew Harley's M.O. So there wasn't a lot of shock value to her claims. But still, one could say that her little performance was somewhat " charming."

They finally arrived at a side entrance, and the pretty clown flamboyantly opened the door. "After you gentlemen."

Wintergreen nodded, his weapon ready as he stepped into the dark hallway. Cobblepot and Butch followed, both ready for anything that may pop out that them. Harley closed the door and the hallway filled with black.

Cobblepot jolted noticeably, causing Harley to hone in.

"What's the matta, Cobby?" she cooed, grabbing the short man by the shoulders, "you afraid of the dark?"

He swatted her away, clearly upset. "Just take us to the Joker already," he whined, though he was about to regret his request.

"You should be careful what you ask for Cobblepot," a sinister voice chuckled.

A flashlight flicked on, highlighting a wicked grin that spread ear to ear. The stout man jumped at the sight, not expecting such a thing to be that close to his face. Joker laughed hysterically, his madness unchained.

"Oh Penguin, you give fowl such a bad name," he cried with glee. "Oh and I see Slade's lackey has joined us as well, what a surprise! What? He couldn't come take the time to speak with me himself? Or is he just too good for that sorta thing?"

Wintergreen could hear the contempt in the mad clown's voice and couldn't help but smile crassly. "I'm afraid Slade's quite busy at the moment, he sent me to make sure his wishes are carried out."

"So he did," Joker acknowledged. "However, he seems to have forgotten that wishes are something I hardly grant. At least not in this outfit." He chuckled again, and turned from the men. "But, I am in an awfully good mood today so—who knows—maybe I'll entertain the idea!"

The Clown Prince lifted his hand and pulled a brass chain, an overhead light coming to life. A small table sat not far from where they stood, a deck of cards placed in the center. "Take a seat gentlemen; we have a game to play. "

Cobblepot looked over at the table unnerved; it seems so innocent, which was why he was worried. Each man took a seat beneath the harsh light overhead. Once seated, Joker took the deck in his hands and began to shuffle the cards.

"Have any of you ever played Russian Roulette ?" he asked.

Butch and Wintergreen both nodded, Cobblepot being the odd man out.

Joker laughed and smirked wide. "Don't worry Cobby, we'll make a man out of you yet!" He placed down the deck and flipped over a card. "These are the rules, five players, five cards. We pass around the stack and you flip the top card, you get a king, I grant you a wish, you get a queen—then you kiss my queen, you get a Jack you owe me a favor, you get an ace then you take a shot, but, if you get the Joker Card… you die." His voice grew low as he pulled a small revolver and placed it on the table.

"And if any of us say no?" Wintergreen asked, taking note of the player to card ratio.

"Then your odds of leaving here alive go down… drastically ," Joker warned, the Brit staring back at him, as if he were considering his options. "What'd y'say, English, wanna give it a whirl?"

"Sure," he nodded, both Butch and his employer shocked while Harley rejoiced. "But only if we talk business while we play."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," the Clown Prince sang, shuffling the five cards and placed the stack face down. "Why don't you start us off then?"

Wintergreen looked down, the cards trapped beneath rigid fingers, gilded by a satin glove of a cheap shade. Joker, with a glint in his eye, pushed the cards toward him, his smile rabbit and fevered.

"Where would you like to start?" the clown asked, removing his hand, Wintergreen placing his own on the stack.

"The Red Hood," he replied, "Slade wants him put down. "

He watched as the clown smiled wickedly and replied, "I take it the rabid mutt has bitten the hand that feeds him? I myself have heard some interesting things."

"It seems everyone has," Wintergreen smirked coldly. "But Slade is more concerned with the future, Red Hood just doesn't fit into that."

"Good old Slade," Joker said theatrically, "always thinking of the future! Most people would see that as being over cautious, I, however, see it as paranoia ."

Wintergreen, placed his thumb at the corner of his card and looked back at the clown. "Paranoid—yes. Justified—maybe. Foolish—no. Sometimes our paranoia is the thing that keeps us alive."

Joker chuckled. "Or maybe it just means you have more enemies than you can handle." He lit up from the notion as though mowing over the irony. "So I suppose Slade wants me to administer the injection ?"

"Correct," Wintergreen said. "Though I think Slade would prefer to look at it as poetic justice. I'm sure a man of your talents can appreciate that?"

"I can," he replied, "but I'm sensing a catch. Men like Slade don't come to men like me without some sort of boundary, better yet, he doesn't send a man like you unless there is one."

Wintergreen sat up straight and tapped the back of the card. "The Hood is involved with a young woman, pretty—white hair. She's off limits."

"I may know the girl," Joker said with a sudden hint of amusement, "but I think the better question is: why is she so important?"

"That's a minor detail," Wintergreen said. "Slade doesn't care what you do to the Hood, but the girl is not to be hurt in any way. Understand?"

"Of course, but it's hard to make promises when she could so easily get caught in the crossfire—I mean revenge is such a messy thing now, isn't it?"

"We thought you'd react this way, that's why Slade wanted me to remind you that the only reason you are allowed to wreak your havoc is that he allows it. As far as he's concerned, you're only necessary as long as you are a thorn in the Batman's side, but the second you become a thorn in his, that usefulness, becomes obsolete." Wintergreen looked back at the clown, a dark look pooling in his feral green eyes. "The girl is off the table."

Joker smirked with malice; he wasn't ready to fold just yet. "You seem like a betting man, Wintergreen. Why don't you put your faith in the cards; you pull a king, I grant you a wish, remember?"

"And if I pull anything else?"

"Then you don't get your wish," Joker smiled mischievously. "Simple as that."

Wintergreen didn't answer as he looked at the feral man and lifted the corner of the card, flipping it over, not even bothering to look down. Joker, gleaming, peered down, followed by the others, wanting eyes glaring from across the table.

He smiled wide, his yellowed teeth exposed as he said, "Well it seems the silver girl is safe… for now ."

"Ahh, nuts!" Harley whined with a pout, "I was look'n forward to stain'n that Lil' bitch's hair red."

Wintergreen smiled. "We have a deal, Joker?"

He signed. "I suppose, I mean I did kill that brat once, it's only right that I do so again. And who knows, maybe carving that bird up will be even better the second time around! Isn't that right, Harley?!" Joker exclaimed wrapping an arm around her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said with an eye roll. "Though I think they'd die better as a pair," she mumbled.

"No so lucky," Wintergreen smiled patronizingly.

Joker looked around the table; there were only four cards left and a player for each one. "Looks like you're next Butch!" he smiled.

Wintergreen passed the cards to the large man, his eyes looking down at them quizzically. He placed his thick hand down atop them and took a deep breath, hoping for anything but one card. He released a breath and flipped the card, looking down, a relieved look on his face.

"It's a Queen," he breathed, overcome with ease, forgetting the consequence.

"A Queen my good man!" Joker sang furiously. "Well, aren't you lucky!"

Butch's brow rose as he looked across the table and recalled the action that followed. Harley smirked at him, a coy look in her eye. He swallowed a bashful breath and tried to object, flustered, but before he could utter such a notion, Harley flow over the table, taking the man by the face and planted a feverish kiss on his boorish lips. This took Butch by surprise, leaving the man unsure of what to do. His hand flew out to the sides, not sure whether to push her away or not, when suddenly, the skin of his lip broke. His hands shot to her face, forcing her away as the metallic taste tickled down the tip of his tongue. She giggled, her lips stick whorishly smeared, and a bit of blood fresh on her bottom lip.

"What's a matta, Butchy, can't take the heat?"

He pushed her away as she laughed, the Clown Prince cackling along with her as he wrapped his arm around her, possessively. "That's my Harley, she leaves quite the taste in your mouth, ay Butch?" he chuckled.

Butch wiped the blood from his mouth, only glaring at the two clowns with a silent malice. He placed his hand on the three cards and pushed them to his right, when Harley darted across the table again.

"It's my turn, Butchy," she demanded. "Ladies first, remember?"

"You mean pigs before swine," Butch seethed as her greedy hand gathered the cards.

Her brow knit; she was clearly insulted. She let her palm open and she slapped him hard across the face. She wound up, getting ready for a redo, but Joker shot to his feet and threw her back in her seat, slapping her violently across her painted face.

"That is not how we treat our guests, Harley! Now apologize!"

"But Puddin!"

"Now Harley!"

She shuttered at the growl, its deep texture coarse and abrasive. "S—sorry Butch." She crossed her arms like a wounded child, sour for the fact her actions weren't overlooked.

Joker scowled and slammed his hands on the cards, sliding them in front of her. "Draw your card."

Harley turned her card face up, not even looking down at it, her face wounded and sore.

"An ace," Joker said evenly, yet still somehow harsh. "How boring." He slammed down a shot glass and poured a cheap vodka that probably tasted of piss. "Drink it," he ordered, slamming the bottle down. He watched as Harley threw back the shot, the taste of blood overcome by the burn of the low-grade liquor.

Joker looked across the table, the chubby man across from him looking nervous as there were only two cards left.

"You first, Cobby," he smiled wickedly, "I insist…" Joker pushed the two cards in the center of the table, still smiling. "So Cobby, now that Slade's wishes have been addressed, what concerns do you have?"

He gather himself, and sopke with some composure. "I have been meeting with an informant, someone who's been giving me insight into the going-ons of the Outlaws. She's not very high up, but she's been collecting information from those she interacts with. She needs to be naturalized . If Red Hood or any of the Outlaws find out about her, it could jeopardize everything Slade and I have set in motion."

"Consider her a gift," Wintergreen added as Butch placed down a picture of an attractive girl. The Joker's eyes flashed with an enticed joy.

"Maybe we should see what the cards say?" Joker chuckled, tapping his thin finger against the table in a rhythmic fashion.

Cobblepot looked down at the two remaining cards, unsure what kind of gamble there was to take. "But what would be the point? Don't you think this is counterintuitive?"

"Nonsense, Cobby!" Joker sang. "Plus what good is making a deal if there is nothing at stake?" He slammed his hand on the table causing the bridish man to stir. "Now! Draw your card… I insist."

He gulped, placing his portly hand down on the card, waiting to be claimed. Joker leaned forward, eager to see the outcome. Cobblepot lifted the corner, his hand slick with perspiration, and flipped the card.

Joker's face lit up, his smile growing ever wider. "Good man, Cobby!" he exclaimed, Cobblepot staring at the card aimlessly. "It seems now you owe me a favor!"

The chubby man looked down at the card, his beady eyes wide. " A favor ?"

"Yes, a favor !" Joker replied, almost innocently. "And I know just how I can collect on such a favor." He flipped the final card, the face of a crazed Joker staring up at the five faces. Joker lifted the gun and firmly planted it before Oswald, his eyes mad and his grin wild. "Go ahead Cobblepot, pull the trigger… I know you want to."

"But what about the deal?"

"What deal?" Joker exclaimed. "The game isn't over, there is no deal—not yet!"

Cobblepot looked at Wintergreen and Butch, the boorish man confused and taken off guard, the Brit simply shrugging.

"I say pull the trigger," Wintergreen said. "Like Slade always says, everyone's replaceable. "

"Not everyone," Joker said, looking over at him smugly.

"We'll see about that," the Brit smirked. "Pull the trigger, Cobblepot, I have better things to do."

Cobblepot looked to his bodyguards who slowly nodded with apprehension. He took the gun in his hand, slightly shaking, he knew there was a catch, but what, he couldn't find. Before him flashed a vivid and crazed grin, yellow teeth set in crooked rows, green eyes filled with mayhem.

"Do it!' Joker demanded, slamming his hand on the table. "I haven't got all day."

Cobblepot pointed the gun, still reluctant, but becoming more determined and placed his finger on the trigger.

"I'll tell your dear mummy you'll see her soon , Cobby ," he added with a sick tone, his eyes glistening with a daring stare.

The man's brow sunk, recalling the events that led to the untimely death of his mother, a bitter taste biting at his tongue. His hand steadied and his finger found conviction as it tightened. "Tell her I'm gonna make it right, starting with you ." And pulled the trigger.

*Snap

"What?!" Cobblepot exclaimed.

Confused and disappointed, he pulled the trigger again, only to hear the same disappointing snap.

Joker broke into a sickening laugh, his hysterical cackle echoing throughout the dark halls. He looked back over the barrel of the gun, still aimed at his head. With his smile wide, he snatched it out of Cobblepot's hand, his wicked grin widening as he placed it to his temple and pulled the trigger, still no bullet deployed from the chamber. He chuckled, taking the gun from his head and opened the cradle, only one chamber filled.

"Sometimes you have to have a little faith," Joker laughed wildly, Harley joining in on the gag.

Cobblepot's face grew red, clearly unhappy with the joke. "I should have known you'd pull something like this, Joker!"

"Oh Cobby, relax," the clown sang. "We're only having a little fun. So what if you mother's dead—mine's dead, you don't see me crying about it. But I will say, yours put on one hell of a show!"

"You son of a—" Cobblepot growled, and flew over the table, both Butch and Wintergreen holding him back.

"Now, now Cobby," Joker reasoned, "there's no need for ill feelings. After all, I didn't kill your mother."

"But you could have stopped it!"

"I could have, but I didn't," Joker shrugged. "But as I recall, I once needed a favor of you, and you refused to deliver. But it seems now, we're even, and you still owe me a favor. "

"I don't owe you anything!" Cobblepot huffed.

"Then there is no deal, and no deal means, no one is safe ," Joker warned.

He looked over at Wintergreen whose face hardened. "He'll take the deal."

"What!" Cobblepot hissed. "No I won—"

"Yes," Wintergreen insisted, "you will." He stared at the man, a burden of consequences beaming from his beneath his weathered brow.

"You may have gotten the better of me this round Joker, but I assure you, I will have the last laugh in this, you'll see!"

"Oh and I look forward to it, Cobby, I really do. As for my favor, I'll be in touch."

Wintergreen reached out his hand from across the table, extending it to the Joker. "Do we have a deal?"

The clown smiled and placed his boney hand in the Brit's. "I believe, my good man, we do. Tell Slade I'll have his vermin problem taken care of all in good time."

"He'd like it done as soon as possible; a lot is riding on this."

"Tell our humble king that the court jester said, 'one cannot rush good art.' I'll take the time I'm given."

"Whatever, I don't care what you do, just leave the girl out of it," the Brit warned tiredly.

"As promised, she's safe, but tell Slade if he as much as even reneges on this deal, she'll be the first person I carve a smile into."

His brow furrowed; this was what he feared. "I can assure you, as long as you deliver, he won't."

A wicked smile stretched across his sinister face. "Then let the game begin."

---

Not long after Raven's heart to heart with Rose, the two returned to the bar. Rose mentioned that she needed to go and gather information regarding the unsavory task placed up Jason. Adding that she was going to help, even if her father instructed her not to.

"Just don't mention that you are," Raven said as they entered the bar, "especially if he doesn't ask."

"Wasn't planning on it, but if he finds out, he'll be pissed?"

"Then just say that you came along to make sure the job got done right, and that you were looking out for his best interest."

"I like the way you think, Rae. I'm gonna start taking advice from you from now on."

Raven smirked and turned to Rose as she stood outside the doorway. "You might get debatable results."

"Well, I'm a debatable girl."

"Right, well I'm gonna get back to my babysitting gig, and wrap my head around robbing graves."

"Yeah, I wouldn't put too much thought into that, Mortisha. But see y'later."

"Bye, Cordelia ."

Raven watched the girl walk away as her silver hair flowing behind her. Raven turned and noticed Clancy standing behind the bar, gathering empty glasses and bottles. She glanced over at Raven, her hands hard at work clearing the bar.

"He's upstairs, Love," Clancy uttered colorfully and placed a few bottles in the trash, the sound of singing glass somehow complimenting to her voice.

Raven nodded in understanding and approached the bar. "You need help?"

Clancy looked up at her warmly and smiled with that of a mother's embrace. "No darl'n, I'm good here," she replied, her accent soft with her gentle tone. "But thank you, dearie. I applicate it."

Raven placed her small hands on the bar and turned to face the Irish girl as she continued her mundane task. She took note of her manner, it was uplifted and kind, keeping her in a state of constant goods spirits. Raven also noticed how calm she appeared in the potential face of a travesty. The girl not once faltered in the wake of Schizo's near fatality, giving Raven the impression that she may not have been as new to the life as she'd previously thought.

Clancy turned to her, noticing the inquiring look on the empath's face. "What?" she grimaced, "Is there something I can help you with?"

Raven smiled at Clancy's default and just shook her head. "No, I was just wondering how someone like you ends up in a place like this ?"

The Irish girl smiled and tilted her head in perplexity. "Well when you grow up in a place where the reminiscent scent of your hometown is Keresan, you find your standers for people become— unconventional."

A slightly embarrassed expression grasped Raven's manner and she felt a little humbled for the moment.

"I can understand that," she nodded. "I'm sorry if I came off as supercilious."

"No love, it's alright," Clancy said ardently, "it's a fair question to be asked, and fair should not be offended."

Raven nodded, an enlightened movement. "So in fairness, how did you end up here?"

A coy grins crack colorfully on her kind face, her button nose wrinkling caustically. "Well school isn't exactly cheap," Clancy drowned. "And well, this beats busting my arse and make'n half the money."

"You're a student?"

"Well I was; I graduated. I'm taking a year off before I start med school, y'know, recharge the batteries and save some money. Odds are I won't have much time for work'n."

"I hear that," Raven replied in an overdrawn tone, sardonically understanding the concept of being a student.

"And what about you, love?" Clancy mused. "You don't exactly fit into this equation yourself?"

"Yeah," Raven smiled in irony, "I guess I'm still trying to find my place is all I can come up with."

"Join the club, dear."

"So you said Dick was upstairs?"

"Aye, he's probably trying to wash the scent of Blüdhaven off, though that be a lingering stench if y'ask me?"

"I wouldn't know, but thank you, Clancy."

Raven heard her call out "you're welcome" as she made her way into the hallway beyond the veiled curtain. She was a little shocked by how still and quiet it was reaching the end of the stairway, the space voiceless and void. Below her feet, ascending the shrill steps, she noticed the damp boot prints, staining the dilapidating wood, leaving it slick. She placed her hand against the wall for guidance, the cool brick telling of the years it had stood. Raven could appreciate this, its history, its story, its rich wisdom that could only come from the patience of time.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, she stood paused on the landing. She pulled out her phone, taking view of the name, "Victor…" she murmured, her eyes glancing away a moment.

She wasn't sure whether to accept the call at first as the dull pain seemed to press against her heart. She truly missed the insightful man, but in truth, she also worried that speaking with him might stir her more controversial opinions. But still, she felt the need to talk to her symbolic older brother.

"Hey, Vic."

She smiled as the sound of his throaty voice sang from a world away. "Hey Rae, how's my little witch doing, I miss you," he cooed.

"She's good, a little over it, but good."

He let out deep chuckled, and Raven could picture the wide grin and how it radiated into his eyes. She missed that. "The Jeepster make it Okay?"

"Yeah," Raven sighed, sinking down the wall, finding her way the wood floor below. "It really needs an oil change, but it actually made it without a hitch."

"I knew it would, those XJ's are solid, and that engine's practically bullet proof."

"Yeah, well it helps that we put all that work into it. Who knows, maybe I'll actually get to test out those new U-Joints?" Raven added, recalling all the work she and Victor had but into it over the years. Victor loved that Raven enjoyed working on cars and, even more, that she enjoyed learning about their mechanics.

"Maybe," he laughed, "they were a bitch change."

"Yeah, so was the radiator," Raven giggled mildly, still able to recall the sweet scent of coolant. "How is everyone, I miss them."

"Wait, did I just hear you right? You Raven, the queen of darkness and solitude—misses—Beast Boy?"

"No, I meant you and Kory," Raven said dryly. "No, I'm kidding, I miss him too, but if he asks, tell him I said, 'fuck off.'"

Victor laughed, the sound thunderous. "Gladly, though he might cry. Y'know he kinda loves you, right?"

"God only knows why," Raven droned, toneless. "I've never possessed the quality of tolerance, especially when it comes to the sound of Gar's whining."

"Yeah, I don't think anyone possesses that quality, but I think he just thinks you're cute," the mechanical man teased.

"Yeah, cause that's super deep of him."

"Well what do you want, he's not that complexed," Victor groaned playfully. "Speaking of complexed how's Dick?

Raven's head fell back down against the wall and let it roll to the side, staring down the hallway. "Convoluted and stubborn."

"So the same?"

"More or less."

"I tried calling him, but he didn't answer, everything okay?"

"Yeah," Raven said keeping her tone even. "He's in the shower."

"Okay, you two getting along okay?"

"Yeah, I mean he's a pain in the ass, but I mean he's not that bad," she joked. "Y'know one glare and he shuts up."

"Yeah, I think most people know that glare."

"I never leave home without my resting bitch face," Raven drawled morbidly. "How's Kory? I haven't heard from her since we left."

"Y'know she's, well—sad," Victor said regrettably.

"Oh..." Raven sighed. "I should probably call her?"

"Yeah, she'd probably like that," she could hear him smile softly over the rueful tone.

"I'll try her either today or tomorrow, but in the meantime tell Kory I miss her and that she can call whenever she needs to talk."

"That's really sweet, Rae, and in the meantime, I'll tell BB to go pound sand."

"You can tell him I miss him too," Raven said with a playful irony, "then you can tell him to go pound sand."

"God, I really miss your humor around here."

"I miss yours too," Raven replied painfully. "I gotta go, Vic."

"Yeah, I gotta go too. And Rae," Victor added, "don't be afraid to call anytime, okay…"

"I know."

"And I know it's not your style but, I love you, RaeRae."

"I love you too, Vic" Raven added. "You tell anyone I said that, and I'll kill you."

"You're secret's safe with me, princess."

"Bye, Vic."

"Later, RaeRae, keep our exalted leader in line."

"Will do," Raven smiled and heard the line cut.

She held the phone a moment and stared at, the longing for home reflecting in the black surface of the phone. She took a deep breath, trying to capture that feeling of the familiar, seeking that place so very far away. She tucked the thin phone in her back pocket, biting her lip in a defeated way as she couldn't quite grasp the lost feeling. Then with her hands empty, she rose to her hesitant feet and walked on, making her why through the thick of the unknown.

She reached the door to the apartment at the end of the wall and turned the knob, taking a moment to gather herself on the off chance she had to face her "exalted leader." Victor could be such a wise-ass sometimes. Raven opened the door and found the room empty, the sound of crashing water pulsing from beyond the door. She entered and let the door fall closed behind her, removing her black coat and placing it on the bed. She turned her head as she noticed from the corner of her eye, the pile of damp clothing by the bathroom door. She sighed as the sight of them left her with a little humor. She picked up an old trash bag that hung by the desk across from her, and knelt down side the rank smelling garments.

"Maybe I should have gotten a biohazard bag?" she groaned picking up each article of foul scented clothing. "That's reminiscent of death," she grimaced once more, and tied the bag closed, ending the assault of the decayed smell.

She rose to her feet and began walking the bag to the door, when she heard the bathroom door open.

"Hey, what are doing?" she heard Dick say tiredly and turned to face him.

"Oh, I was just gonna see if there was a way to wash these," Raven shrugged and lifted the bag of filthy clothes.

Dick ran his hand through his wet hair. "You can just throw those away, something tells that smell isn't coming out anytime soon."

"Yeah, I figured it was worth a try," Raven sighed, dropping the bag on the floor and plopped down on the bed. "The shower help you feel a little better?"

Dick shrugged begrudgingly as he pulled out some fresh clothes and walked into the bathroom to get dressed. "Yes and no. It's not like I can just wash away my bad judgment."

"Yeah morality works like that," Raven called flatly as she stared at the wall, "such a bitch, right?"

Dick gave her a dry glance as he hung his blue towel over the door to dry. "Well aren't you a little ball of sardonic irony today."

"When am I not?" Raven said hoarsely and noticed his distance. "Dick, what happened?"

He leaned against the door, his head falling back with melancholy. "I just don't know, Rae. It's like I keep making these decisions that I would never make prior to all this, and… I just—I don't understand why I'm making them?"

"I know," Raven replied, able to smell the scent of rue strongly rising from his lament, "but you know we don't have stay here, right? We can always go back—we can go home?"

Dick looked at her, her eyes coy, but uncertain if whether or not those words were what he wanted.

"I can't do that, it's too… I don't know—the blood just falls too close to the wound," he sighed as though he were addressing the floor.

"Wow," Raven mused. "That sounded like something I'd say."

"Yeah, well I don't know who I am anymore, so I guess it's fitting?"

"We could go someplace else?" Raven suggested, catching a glimpse of his conflicted glance.

"Where?"

"Anywhere but here." She smiled at him, trying to give him an inviting look. The possibility of just picking up and moving on.

"I can't."

Raven frowned with furrowed brows. "Why, I mean, it's not like you're emotionally invested at this point, right?"

Dick only looked at her, his eyes stormy in the wake of cloudy skies, but said nothing to their cause.

"You know, if you want me to understand, then you have to tell me what happened, and why you feel the need to stay here, especially if you think it's killing you."

Dick raised his hands to his face and clasped them about his lips. "Is this the part where you shake a spear at me and offer me the insight of Pallas?"

"That makes me sound a little pretentious, but yes," Raven said, toneless. "I do know how to shake a spear ."

"That made you sound pretentious."

Raven rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly. "Seriously though, what happened?" she asked once more, her eye pinned on him.

Dick let out a deep breath, his chest falling with a heaviness. "I agreed to let Jason kill a man today—I think I was even willing to help him? I mean… how could I let myself think I had the right to do that? How could I think that was right?" A cynical grin revealed itself, its fractured image something of disbelief. "And worse, I couldn't even see how diluted and disillusioned my judgment was until that guy was dead." The grin dissolved on his face, leaving his expression sobered and wounded.

Raven looked away and pressed her lips in responses, the bitterness unpalatable. "Does Mia know?"

His eyes flickered up, and his head swayed. "All she knows is she was never gonna see him again… I'm sure she knows why."

"Truly, I think she knows the only way to promise that is through death."

"Maybe," Dick muttered somberly. "Jason told me that there wasn't much hope of keeping a monster like that off the streets, and he's right. People like that don't learn or regret, they just keep to the shadows where they can sink their teeth into the next naïve girl that walks by. But as true as that is, I still don't have the right to decide whether that person's life is worth taking or not."

"You're not wrong," Raven said and glanced over at him, "but, Jason isn't wrong either. You identified with Mia's pain, the fact that that man took a part of her she could never get back and for that, you thought he should have a part of him taken too. Your response was actually quite human ."

"Was it though?" Dick shook his head vexed. "I'm failing to see the humanity." His voice filled with irony; he didn't quite know what to think. "And even if you're right, I can't just justify my actions as the weakness of my humanity. What kind of man would that make me? "

Raven stood up and looked at him, perplexed a moment. "If Bruce should have taught you anything, it's that your greatest strength is that you are only human. That's what keeps you grounded and what makes you better. You know what it's like to have to overcome something bigger than you, and you're stronger for it. You don't need power to be great . You only need you."

Dick rolled his head in her direction as she leaned against the wall beside him and bowed her head to him.

"Then I should know better," Dick asserted. "I should be able to understand that—no man—has the right to take the life of another man—what was I—what was I thinking?!" His hands, splinted in rue, found his face, his fingers lacing over his forehead in pause. "Maybe I need to keep humanity more in mind?"

"You didn't have humanity in mind to begin with, Dick—you had Mia… you had yourself. "

He looked at her perplexed, his hands slipping to the top of his head as he shook it. His eyes grew misty and his lips tightened, his jaw clenched in quarrel.

"You once told me," Raven continued, "that you were happy that the man who killed your parents was dead, because if he weren't… you were afraid you'd—"

"Kill him myself—I know," Dick finished bitterly, recalling the long passed conversation the two had shared a decade ago. "And God, I really wanted to."

"You meant it then, and you mean now," Raven said softly, shifting her body. "I know that frightens you, but you have every right to feel that way. Tony Zucco took a part of you you can never get back, and you wanted your pound of flesh for that, part of you always will." She reached out and took his hand in hers. "You see your reflection in the faces' of victims and you tell yourself that it's helping them, you're taking that debt, but you're still angry that you can't take it from him yourself… and that scares you."

"Stop." He pulled away, ripping his hand free of her, though it wasn't Raven Dick was trying to escape, it was the truth that burdened him.

"I'm just saying what we both know."

"Well, I wish you wouldn't," Dick spat. "I don't wanna feel that. I want— so —badly to just let go, but I can't," he sighed, "that would take forgiveness that I don't have ."

"And I'm telling you that's alright," Raven replied. "You don't have to forgive everyone, you may not have the right to take their life, but not every human diverse the charity of forgiveness, and that can be a lot worse than death."

"You're right," Dick huffed and wearily sat on the bed, "but, to not forgive, means to hold on , and as much as I don't have it in me to forgive, I still just want it to go away. I know it won't."

"It never will," the empath sadly reassured then sat down beside him.

"No shit." Dick sighed. "I just can't wrap my head around any of it, y'know?"

"I do," Raven replied and placed her hand on his again, "and that is why I understand if you wanna go… Back to Jump, go to Europe, go over the hills and far away—I don't care. I'll go wherever you want… or I'll stay here, with you, but it's your choice, Richard."

He closed his eyes and shuddered at the tempting thought. "As much as I want to get as far away from Gotham as possible, I can't."

The look on his face was distained, his color washed out.

"Why, what's keeping you here?"

"Jason, he needs my help."

"Fuck," Raven scoffed, "why, he's never wanted it before. Why now?"

A cynical laugh freed itself as Dick thought of the irony. "Because now he really has something to lose… and he's, for once, actually thinking of someone else."

"Rose?" Raven asked, tilting her head.

Dick nodded and raised his brow in conformation. "Yeah, apparently Slade didn't give a shit about the run last night, he only cares that his little girl is sharing her bed with Gotham's reining Outlaw King . He's apparently not too keen that."

"Oh God, heaven forbid the fair Ophelia make a decision that could tarnish her bright and shining virtue," Raven recited sarcastically, "How dare she!"

Dick rolled his eyes, not surprised that Raven's mind made a beeline for the works of Shakespeare. "Yeah, only knowing Slade, he probably cares less about his daughter's reputation . In his eyes, that wasn't her decision to make. As far as Jason goes, he just wants him to know that Rose doesn't belong to him and as long as Slade's left breathing, she never will."

"Sounds like Plutonius—I mean Slade," Raven muttered, glancing nonchalantly at her fingernails. "Gotta give him credit though, the man's consistent." She glanced back over at Dick, a more serious look on her face. "So I take it this little misdeed he wants performed is his way of putting those two back in their place?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

"No," she shrugged, "I have the misfortune of knowing that man well enough to know exactly what all this is." Dick noticed regret filling her eyes as she continued, her tone unchanged. "He'll eventually make her choose, and when he does, he won't accept anything less than what he wants for an answer."

Dick ran his free hand through his hair and exhaled a hollow breath trapped deep inside his lungs. "And either way, I'm sure Jason's gonna be the one to truly pay for it, no matter who Rose chooses. The sad part is… I think he actually loves her."

Dick's eyes clouded to match Raven's, the two sharing a sad, embittered look.

"Well, that would explain why Jinx hates her."

"She knows this won't end well," Dick sighed, recalling how torn up she was during that time, "She's lived it."

Jinx never wanted Wally to have to choose between her and the League and even went as far as to leave the Titans and give up on trying to be a hero. Dick even sought to talk her out of it, but he couldn't. Jinx just wanted to sever the flesh from the bone and be done with it. Wally, however, was more than willing to stitch the wound closed and cut off the other arm if he had to, and he did. He cut the League off clean, and he didn't even flinch. Or at least he didn't let them see him hesitate . Either way, everyone blamed Jinx for Wally's decision, it didn't matter that she loved him enough to walk away, or that she really tried to better herself for him. It was still her fault, only because, Wally would have never left if it weren't for that Eve.

Dick always felt that people had a bad habit of blaming a woman for the sins of men, but in his experience, men were more than capable of getting their sainted hands dirty, with or without the help of a woman, and viscera.

"Yeah, I suppose she has. I know I didn't help," Raven added and bit her thumb absentmindedly.

Dick chose not to answer, a clear image of Jinx swatting Raven across the face and calling her a vulgar name, echoed in his head, especially the part where Raven let her do it.

Raven looked down, knowing that his mind had traveled there, and shifted to an embarrassed nature, then changed the subject. "You're afraid for your little brother."

Dick glanced up at her, his chest practically plummeted with his breath. "Yeah," he nodded, "he said he needs me to be his big brother again. "

"That asshole," Raven giggled, "how are you supposed to say no to that?"

"I can't."

"And he knows that."

"I know."

"Do you think he means it?"

"I don't know?" Dick replied with a worn smile. "But it doesn't matter if he does or not, because the truth is, he does need me, even if he doesn't wanna see it."

"He does, that's for damn sure," Raven grumbled. "But I'm afraid he's gonna use that against you, he's kinda doing that now."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that. Jason's no stranger to the art of manipulation, but as I said, this time, he has something to preserve, and as long as he has that, I have an advantage."

"Because at the end of the day, Jason knows that he can count on you to help save Rose from Slade."

"Yep," Dick nodded. "He knows I can't just sit by and let some poor girl be used as a bargaining chip. Plus, if Jason is going to take on Slade, he's gonna need me. I know Slade and I know not to underestimate him."

"You think Jason is?"

"A little, yeah," he said. "He defiantly isn't quite sizing up his opponent, but that's typical Jason—strike first, ask questions later."

"That's what got him killed?" Raven frowned, recalling the incident.

"Yeah, in a way. He ran blindly into a trap, but honestly, part of me thinks he would have gone in guns blazing regardless. Yes, Jason has a bad habit of living in the moment, but if I were in the same situation, I can't say I would have acted differently."

"There is an irony in there I'm not gonna make," Raven replied.

Dick smiled at her and nodded awkwardly, finding the parallel a bit caustic. Jason always lived for the moment, even as a child. Dick never really thought about it when they were younger, mostly because he thought that nature came from his naivety and lack of discipline. But now thinking about it, he was forced to revise his conclusion.

"That's just the world he comes from." Dick stood and went to the dresser, picking up his watch and latched it to his wrist. "Bruce took me in because I remind him of himself as a boy after he lost his parents. He took Jason in because he knew if he didn't, Jason would have become, ironically enough, what he is today, a criminal." He turned to Raven and secured the clasp. "This is the world Jason came from, it's the world he knows best, and for that, the first thing Jason learned is that Time, was never on his side."

"Time is never on anyone's side," Raven said still sitting on their bed. "We're all destined to die, it's just a matter of when and how."

"Leave it to you to take something grim and make it far more grimmer," he smiled sardonically.

"It's what I'm here for, it's in my job description and everything."

Dick smiled at her again, though this time it was a warmer look that recognized her humor. She gave him a slight smirk in return as he shifted his weight and approached her. "Your efforts are very well appreciated, Rae." He leaned over and kissed her forehead, feeling a little less hostile.

And if for nothing else, he knew he could always count on her to understand him, even when he couldn't.

---

Roy's feet beat angrily against the pavement as he approached his building and bound up the stone steps to the door. He threw it open, not even having to bother unlocking it since the deadbolt had been broken for years. However, its repair mattered little to him as he was aware that everything in this part of town stayed broken, including the people that lived there.

He slammed the door behind him and stomped up the steps, his anger driving the collision under his feet as he raced up the two flights of stairs. He finally reached his floor and looked up. His form frozen at the sight of her, her arms were crossed over her chest as she took a deep breath.

Shit, he thought as he looked back her, her long black hair gently curling around her, the sharp red spring coat she wore, draping off her shoulders in a fashionable way. She clearly didn't belong there. She hadn't noticed him yet, but he was sure she would at any moment. He turned, getting ready to take off before she saw him, he couldn't let her see him this way. Just as his feet were about to step down, he heard it, the soft lyrical sound of her voice. It was both a sound he so desperately feared, yet so deeply pined for.

"Roy?" She sounded relieved, but there was convulsion gripping her tone.

Roy's eyes closed painfully as his name echoed down the filthy hallway, humiliation arising from the fact that she had to not only seen, but stood in the very cesspool he lived in.

"Roy?" she called again as his hand shook atop the banister.

He finally turned to face her, a vacant expression cast on his grey face as he looked back at her numbly. "Donna, what are you doing here?" His voice was thin and wounded as it spoke, leaving her a little empty at the sound.

She glanced away a moment, her lips parting, trying to gather the words. It had been well over a year since she'd seen him, and to be honest, the sight of him startled her. He was so thin now, his once high broad shoulders were sunken and weak. His eyes were dull, their forest green glare no longer full of life or determination. Then there were his hands, ashen and hard looking. They shook now, their steady grip nothing but a faint memory, he was merely a ghost to her now.

"I um… came to check up on you," she finally managed.

Roy let out a heavy breath, letting his head fall back. "Why?"

She let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Because I care… and after the call I got, I was really worried about you."

"Get in line, Donna," Roy replied as he finally made his way down the hallway.

Her face grew with insult as he walked passed her, reaching his door. "Really, Roy? Is that all I get?"

"I having nothing to give you, Donna," he replied. "At least nothing you would want."

"That's not what I meant."

Roy opened his door, but she pushed it closed with little effort. He'd nearly forgotten how strong she was, as she stared back at him vexed, the way she'd used to. He'd also almost forgotten how much he loved that look.

His face softened as he let his defenses down and pulled himself out of attack mode. "I'm sorry, Donna… rough day."

"Okay," she replied and took her hand off the door. "You wanna talk about it?"

He looked up at her, her eyes solemn and burdened. He knew what he should have said, he knew exactly what he should have done, but still, he there was just something about her he just couldn't say no too.

"Sure…"

---

The table was set as all present members sat around it like Knights waiting for King Arthur to speak. The table was around and carved out of old, finished pine that didn't quite work with the fading brick or the heavy oak door. Still, the piece held its rustic character, its surface scarred with tunnels left by the worms that had borrowed throughout its flesh.

Dick glanced down at these paths, tracing them with his fingertips. The sight perplexed him, how something so invasive could be so eerily beautiful. He looked up at the faces around him as he sat beside X who flanked Jason's right, Jinx to his left. Across from him sat the older man known as Hogan and to his left Duela, whose hair hadn't quite dried. Enigma was beside her, her hair tied up in two buns atop her head. Eddie was beside Dick, his red form dormant as he too waited for Jason to speak and bring the meeting to session.

Jason sat at the head of the table, his eyes downcast in thought, his finger tapping the old wood while his mind conjured. "So what do we think happened last night?" Jason finally said opening the conversation around the table.

Everyone remained paused, not really sure where to start until, finally Hogan spoke up, "We almost got our shit wrecked, that what happened."

"I know that, I mean how?" Jason replied looking for answers.

"Well, most of them are dead, so their plan wasn't exactly bulletproof," X shrugged smugly.

There was a light giggle among the table only Jason and Dick seemed to be impervious to.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe that's why they caught us off guard?"

"What do you mean?" Jason questioned as everyone placed their attention on Dick.

"Well think about it, last night both hits were executed with two key features , surprise, and brute force. I mean, was it me, or did the whole thing feel like The Godfather got hijacked by the Fast & the Furious franchise?"

Jason thought about what Dick had implied and translated. "So you're saying they we got hit by old school Mob, but they've been watching some pseudo bullshit gangsta movies? God, I hate myself for saying that..."

Dick shrugged. "Not in so many words, but yeah."

"I thought you were supposed to be a detective, Grayson?" X snorted.

"I am," he replied with annoyance, "but seriously, did anyone of you, at all, feel like you were going up against a paid professional last night? Or some punk who needs to stop watching Vin Diesel movies?"

"So armatures?" X asked, looking at the Boy Wonder crudely. "We nearly got our asses handed to us by armatures ?"

"Well, that girl sure as hell wasn't a trained pro. I took her out with a basic maneuver she should have seen coming, but didn't. The two older Italian guys didn't seem green, but they were trying to play by a different set of rules. The only professional on that team was Shimmer, and well—"

"Rose put her down," Jason finished and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Yeah, so here's the question: what are two old Italian Mod guys, a professional hit-woman and a couple of gangsta wannabes doing carrying out an ambush on a high-level criminal syndicate like the Outlaws?"

"That's simple, they either want territory or control over Gotham's underworld," Jinx said tiredly.

"Yeah after last night's display, I'm gonna say that control isn't really that realistic for their skill set, so we may need to think smaller," Jason added.

"That's not necessarily true," Dick corrected. "It's possible that we might just be dealing with a pawn? But if you ask me, I think the true answer lies in whoever hired Shimmer, and she was a pro, she should have had contacts, there might even be a contract floating around."

"That's a good point," Jason nodded. "X, can you reach out and see if you can pick up any intel?"

"Yeah, I can probably dig up something, I have plenty of favors to cash in."

"I'll check out what I can find on the Hidden Wiki, see if I can find the actual contract," Enigma added.

"Good," Jason replied, "but in the meantime, who do we think we're looking for?"

Hogan shrugged. "There's a lotta Mob in this town; it's kinda hard to narrow down."

"Well for starters, those guys couldn't have been high-level Mob, we would have recognized them," X said.

"They also didn't have the experience that someone higher up the food chain would have. So my guess is that if they were the best that family had to offer, then maybe they are lower players," Dick added.

Jason rolled his eyes. "So basically all we got right now is a couple of punks playing Grand Theft Auto , Shimmer and a disgraced Mod family, sorta narrows down the pool."

"Actually," Jinx sighed, finally joining the conversation, "have you seen some of the newest generation of Mob? Not exactly following the rule book of Goodfellas ."

"What'd you mean?"

"I mean it sounds like we're looking for somebody's shithead kid?"

"She's got a point," Dick said. "Last night could have been an initiation. That would explain the lack of experience and the huh— flare. "

"Yeah, but who sends a newbie to do a pro's job?" Duela asked.

"Someone with nothing left to lose and someone who has a lot to prove," Dick shrugged.

"Okay, I want Eddie and Duela to go see what they can dig up on the streets. X and Jinx look into your prior contacts, Hogan you check the books, see if anyone is coming up light?"

Everyone nodded, accepting their orders.

"Also, we still have the issue of Jump, word on the street is Slade's getting ready to start putting people in play, we need to find out what that play is and make our own, but we'll worry about that tomorrow."

Jason noticed Dick glanced down and his shoulders fall with vexation, affronted by the unsavory thought of his abandoned charge becoming something dirty. Jason dismissed everyone from the table, bring the meeting to a close. Dick rose as well, but Jason beckoned him to remain seated.

Dick looked over at Jason as he mildly lit a cigarette. He placed his lighter on the table and took a drag, Dick waiting for him to speak.

"Listen, Dick, I know you're not happy about me moving in on Jump, but it's what I gotta do."

Dick stared straight ahead at the stone wall, bare of false paneling and asked numbly, "Does moving on Jump have anything to with Rose?"

"What do you mean?"

Dick then looked over at the Outlaw again, his cigarette now hanging from his lips as he peered down at his burner.

"Like is she using you to get away from her father, or are you doing this to try and take her away from him?"

Jason looked up from the phone and closed it, placing it back in his pocket. "Rose doesn't even know. I haven't told her."

"Why, are you afraid she'll rat you out?"

"No," Jason replied and took another drag. "I'm afraid of what Slade will do to her if he found out she knew."

"Okay, I get that, but you're gonna have to tell her eventually, and I just hope that when you do, that she doesn't turn on you."

Jason's words remained unspoken as he promptly flicked the ash off his cigarette. However, Dick still had plenty to say.

"Why are you doing this? Why is Jump so important to you?"

Jason glanced up at him; his eyes a little chilled as they glared at him. "Because, if I don't, Slade will, and I'm not gonna sit by while everyone just lets him take whatever he wants."

Dick glared at Jason, his face that of stone, cold and unmoved. Dick, himself, could feel the stillness in his own eyes as they began to evaporate and filled with a smoky color of reality.

"I understand that, but why is Slade's power so important to you?"

"You're asking a question you already know the answer to, Dick. Besides, it's either the Devil you know, or the Devil you think you know."

"If that's true, then which one are you?"

---

Roy sat across from Donna in the small booth by a foggy window, the sun beating in through the smudges of handprints. The two looked at each other awkwardly as the waitress approached, an older woman who strangely resembled a Boston terrier.

"What'll it be?" she asked, her voice foggy from years of nicotine abuse.

Roy glanced up at her with a fake smile, "Coffee."

"Tea," Donna replied and uttered a small 'thank you' as the underwhelmed waitress withdrew.

Donna looked at Roy, unsure of what to say. She noticed his index finger as his frantically scratched at a chip on the surface of the table.

"Is everything alright?"

Roy looked up at her, her fingers laced under her chin. She glanced down at his busy digit, still mindlessly digging away. He let out a sharp breath and refrained from the worthless task, flattening his hand upon the table.

"Define alright?"

Donna's eyes fell from him a moment, a little put off. This was by far not the Roy she knew and very much loved, yet she remained there. It was then the waitress returned with their order and placed down the off colored mugs.

"You two need anything else?" she asked, looking at the two awkwardly, the pair looking quite crude together.

"No thank you," Donna smiled as Roy looked away, hiding his insult.

The woman withdrew from them with nothing more than a shrug and left them to one another.

"So what do you wanna talk about?" Donna asked picking up her tea.

Roy leaned forward and took his coffee in his grasp, bring it to his lips. "I don't know Donna, there isn't much to say."

Donna sipped her tea and set it down. "Well, say what you can."

"Why?"

"Because I want to understand."

Roy laughed cynically. "No, you don't." He took a sip of his coffee as Donna's brow furrowed. "So what does good ol' Terry think about you coming to check up on me?"

"I left Terry."

Roy looked up at her, shock in his forest green eyes. "What, when did that happen?"

Donna picked up her tea and replied, "The other night after you called."

"Why?" Roy asked. "I mean what happened, I thought you two were happy and all that white picket fence shit?"

"Yeah that picket fence wasn't as white as it seemed," Donna replied sardonically. "Plus Terry isn't really the man I thought he was, it all just sort of fell apart, I guess…"

"Yeah, I know that feeling," Roy said sipping his coffee again.

The irony hit her heart a moment as she glanced down. "Yeah, I guess you were right, after all…"

Roy looked up at her, recalling the words he'd spoken to her years ago with a drunk and broken heart. "Donna, what I said was—"

"The truth," Donna said cutting him off, "I should have listened, but I didn't."

"Yeah, but I said that because I didn't wanna see you marry another man, I said it because I was being selfish. I couldn't take seeing you with anyone else."

"I know," Donna said. "Hints why you told me the night before my wedding, but regardless, you were right. I married the wrong man."

Roy looked down, feeling ashamed of that night, his actions were fueled by heartache and alcohol, blinding him of his better judgment. He'd begged for her to come back to him, he begged her to call off her wedding, insisting that she was making the biggest mistake of her life and that Terry wasn't worth giving up her life for. He spoke every argument and practically recited sonnets, declaring his incurable love her for her. Yet, no matter how particle or beautiful the point or the verse was, she wouldn't accept it as fact. He even went as far as telling her that she could doubt all the facts of science, but she could never doubt that he loved her. That made her cry, but she married Terry anyway, even if it was partly out of guilt.

"So what about you?"

"What about me?" Roy replied. "I'm not exactly the picture of morality."

"I've heard."

"Yeah, I'm sure everyone is just more than willing to air my dirty laundry for all the world to judge."

"Roy that's not what I meant, I didn't come here to judge you."

"Then what did you come here for?"

"To make sure you were alright."

"Well, I'm reluctantly still breathing."

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm just being honest, Donna," Roy shrugged numbly. "Everyone seems to have this idea that I'm the way I am because I made bad choices, and maybe I have, but no one has ever considered asking why I made those choices to begin with."

"So this is my fault?"

"What?"

"Your problem," she replied. "If I hadn't married Terry then you would have never gone on that mission."

Taking a pause, Roy stared at her at her a moment and took out his wallet then placed a 10 dollar bill on the table and stood. "Okay, on that note, I'm done."

Startled, Donna turned her head and watched him leave, then scrambled to her feet to catch up to him.

"Roy, wait!" she called throwing her purse over shoulder, "Roy, please!"

"Why, so you can wash your conscious clean of me?" he spat, making his way to the sidewalk.

"Roy, please just listen to me," Donna begged as she caught him by the arm. "Please?"

"Why do you feel like what happened to me is your fault?"

"Because I feel like you took that mission to get away from me."

"You're right, Donna, I did take that mission to get away from you, because I loved—fuck—I still love you. I wasn't strong enough to see you with another man. But that's not the only reason I took that mission; I also took it because I wanted to get away from a lot of things, I wanted to live outside of Ollie's shadow and didn't want to be part a team anymore. I wanted to be myself, and in doing that I fucking lost myself, and that's why I put a needle in my arm to forget everything I lost and have to endure. I can't live with some of the things I've done. Living and knowing that people died because of me, that is why I'm a heroin addict, Donna, not because you broke my heart. You can go back to your pretty little life now."

He turned to walk away, his numbness blinding him to his dark, glassy reflection, rippling in her eyes. He only got a few steps away when he heard her voice again, fragile as it cracked.

"Roy, wait… I want to help you."

He stopped a moment, his own eyes growing heavy with turmoil. "Why Donna, why now?" He turned to her, stepping in her direction. "Of all the times to come running back to me, why did you have to pick now?"

"Because I want my friend back," Donna whimpered, her expression still pleading with him.

"I want him back too, Donna," Roy said, "but I don't know if can go back to being that man. "

Donna stepped forward bridging the gap between them. "I'm willing to help you try."

A tear fell from her eye, and Roy's heart shattered. However, he held his tears back as he leaned in and kissed her, not even giving the gesture a second thought. Donna's eyes, grew wide as his lips pressed against hers for a brief moment, but then closed, accepting it before he pulled away.

He let his thumb grace her chin as he looked down at her, for a moment, feeling almost human again, but of course, the clouds rolled in. "I'm not."

He pulled away again, this time leaving her speechless and as he scurried away like a stray cat, trying to remove itself from the sight of humanity. Donna just stood there and watched as he drifted away like a plastic bag, minimal and forgotten, heart aching for him to see that to her, he mattered.

However, what Donna didn't realize was that Roy knew he mattered, especially to her, and that hurt more than she could ever know.

Roy once again bounded up the steps of his apartment building, his feet falling with more defeat this time. His splintered hands pulled open the door, regret harboring beneath his skin. He took that regret into his apartment and shut the door promptly, hiding himself from the world he no longer wanted to be a part of. The moment the door fell closed, he finally broke down. Tears began to spill from his eyes, rolling down his garish, thin face. His hand slipped deep into his pocket, trying desperately to find the cure to his unrelenting pain. His fingers gathered the much-needed object, and he produced it in his palm as he looked down at it with remiss. The tiny bag remained lifeless in his hand, though it somehow left him haunted and broken, even just by returning his hateful expression blankly. Still, his hatred could not keep them apart, and if this was what it took to escape this world, then this was how it would end.

---

"You don't play fair…" Jason said breathily as he laid next to Rose, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Hey you knew that going into it, JT," she replied, accepting the cigarette as he passed it to her, her fingers laced within his. She stared up at the cracked ceiling, taking a puff, her eyes a little hazy in her current state.

Jason took the cigarette from her as she exhaled, the smoke billowing above them. "So you and Raven get along okay?"

Rose giggled and stole the cigarette with a smile. "She fucked Jinx's old man, I fucking love that bitch," she laughed and placed the cigarette to her lips.

Jason chuckled with genuine shock. "Wow," he drawled, retrieving their shared past time, "I didn't know that. I wonder how Grayson feels about it?"

"What's the deal with those two anyway," Rose asked, "are they like a thing or something? "

"I have no fucking clue, they say they're not, but I don't know. I honestly don't think they do either."

Jason stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray at his bedside, leaning over a little as Rose adjusted her position and turned to her side.

"How hard can it be it to figure out?"

"Well," Jason began, "for starters, Dick was engaged to another woman like 3 or 4 months ago."

"What'd she dump him?" she asked intrigued. She could be a bit nosy, but it came with the misfortune of being a Wilson, the fact she was only 19 also didn't help much.

"Not exactly, she married another man while she was still engaged to Dick."

Rose's eyes went wide, "How does that even happen?"

"Arranged marriage," Jason replied, playing with a piece of her silver hair. "Dick asked her to call it off; she didn't, he left."

"That's shitty," Rose grimaced, looking up at him.

"That's probably a gross over simplification, but yeah, basically."

"So what, Raven's like his little rebound?"

"No," Jason said blankly, "she's more like his best friend who acts more like his wife."

"Yeah, I can see that," she nodded.

"She loves him, and I think Dick needs that."

"But does he love her?"

"Yeah," Jason said convolutedly, "but I don't know if he realizes that, or if he's even capable of seeing her that way, but he loves her. And I don't know; maybe it's enough for Raven."

"She did say something about love being silent ," Rose sighed, placing her chin on Jason's bare chest. "She said I remind her of Cordelia from some Shakespeare play I can't remember the name of…"

" King Lear ," Jason said, finishing her thought, letting his restless hand run through her silver hair and down the skin of her back.

"Yeah," Rose smiled and continued. "How do you know that?"

"I was adopted by the richest man in Gotham, I was bound to sit through the Shakespeare canon at some point."

"Do you think I'm Cordelia?" She looked up at him with icy eyes, the fringe of her grown out bangs encompassing them and the hills of her cheekbones.

"I think if you look deep enough into something, you can see yourself in it."

"Is that like a Shakespeare quote or something?" Rose questioned a little bewildered, her education not nearly the length of his.

Jason giggled, "Nope, that's all me, Rosie, if Shakespeare said that, it would probably mean more than it does."

"I wouldn't know." Her face fell into a bit of shame, she may have been a Wilson, but she never quite lived the life of one. She grew up in a rough neighborhood in New York, her mother earning her living as a prostitute and madam. Rose, though very bright, never really got a proper education. Her studies suffered greatly after mother died, for several reasons. One, she began acting out as she didn't quite fit into the prestige of Gotham Academy and two, she spent a great deal of her time throwing herself into her training, dropping out shortly after her 16th birthday.

However, Rose's real education was earned on the streets, and in the Brothel her mother ran. She became steeped in the ways of people, their different dealings, their cultures and their struggles—the very fabric of what made the underworld tick. Better yet, she learned how to survive. By the time she was 14, she already knew more about the human condition than any girl of her green age. She'd witnessed the darkest depths of fringe society and understood the very drive of counter culture. But it wasn't until her Father came along that she truly became a cynic.

Jason's upbringing wasn't much different, " same shit, different flavor" as he referred to it. His father was a criminal, his mother walked out them, he'd pretty much grown up in the streets, caring for his drug addict step-mother. He knew what it was like to have nothing and be happy with little. They both came from broken households-fractured families, the sharpest of realities plaguing their childhoods. And, more importantly, they both knew what it was like to be broken. They even had a game they played where they compared battles stories just to see which one was a little more fucked up. Sadly, in the end, neither of them really won.

"You don't have to, you're a smart girl," Jason said with sincerity, "you don't need the words of a dead poet to figure shit out."

Rose smiled and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling again, their fragile lines somewhat fascinating to her, like they were very well the cracks on her own cracked surface.

"Can we just stay here all night? Y'know and just do this?"

Jason smiled at her and ran his thumb over the pout of her lower lip. "I honestly couldn't think of a better place to die, but I know you'd be crushed if this were my last night alive."

"It was worth a shot?" Rose sighed with remorse, wishing it were her own life on the line. However, not being much of a romantic herself, she still found the prospect of dying to spite her father a little palatable. But alas, her father knew her a little too well, and maybe, that was where the rub lied.

"It was. It always was," Jason muttered nearly dispassionately, his thoughts drifting in and out of reality and what reality might become.

He sat up, noticing the time ticking on the wall clock. He wasn't happy about the approaching task, but he was in not position to disobey the command he'd been given. He grimaced at the irony of it, his stomach turning with revolt, though he could not act upon it, he had to capitulate. Still, he swallowed the nausea, clenching his jaw as though biting down hard on his tongue. Rose noticed the trouble in his posture and the tightening of his strong jawline. She knew how hard this truly was for him; to just lie down and take it like a dog that was being kicked for stepping out of line. "You okay, JT?"

"Yeah, I am," Jason sighed.

Rose pushed herself up from the mattress and pulled herself over to him as he drew her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs followed around his waist. He pulled her bare body against his and placidly kissed her. He looked back at her and once again brushed the white hair from her brow, her long platinum strands spooling down to her small breasts.

She parted her lips and exhaled, feeling guilty that her once unequaled love was now unwillingly her father's dog. "I know you're doing this for me, but you don't have to."

He smiled at her briefly. "I know, but I want to."

She smiled at him weakly.

"Plus I'm really not keen on dying again, at least not on those terms. So yeah operation corpse disposal, here I come," he chuckled bravely.

She wanted to laugh, but couldn't. He was trying to turn his offense into humor and brush it off like a worthless joke, but Rose knew better.

"I'm just worried tonight's gonna be a little traumatic for you?"

"A lot of things are traumatic for me, Rose, this is just another thing . I'll be fine."

She wanted to believe him, but she knew those old memories still lived in him, those nightmares of both life and death, of everything and nothingness. Jason may have denied that those things still plagued him, but in truth, they were still there, and always would be. He'd always be a masterpiece bound in a broken frame.

"Well we should probably get ready to head out…" he said listlessly.

"Yeah, I guess we should…"

---

Jason and Rose met Red X, Dick and Raven on she shipping deck behind the back of the bar. A slight chill hung in the night air causing a fragile shadow of breath, but nothing that cut to the bone. The sky held a brilliant hue of copper as the city lights bled into the nightscape like the blood of a severed vein. The stars only but brief memories against the grandeur of technology.

X was finishing loading the black panel van, making sure that everything they'd need to pull off this grim deed was at their disposal. Raven leaned against one of the steel beams, her arms crossed over her chest as she stood below the overhang. Dick begrudgingly helped X, handing him one last shovel with a damning glance.

"We ready to go?" Jason asked stepping down the old pine steps.

"Nice of you two to join us," X muttered sardonically, "and yeah, Operation: Corpse Disposal, is ready for takeoff."

Dick looked up at Raven who rolled her eyes comically at the crass response.

"Is it bad that I found that a little funny?" Rose said following Jason down the steps.

"It's a little distasteful, yes," Raven replied.

"Yet you laughed too," Dick droned.

"Because it reminded me that I still have a line of decency, Boy Blunder," she smiled ironically, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her black coat.

"Well if everyone is done acting like a bunch of children, then we should move out."

"Wow… And people think I'm the one who takes after Bruce?" Dick patronized, having a bit of a flashback to when he heard comments like that on a regular basis.

"Cause you do, now get in the damn van, Grayson."

Jason walked away, moving to the passenger side of the van.

"Okay, Bruce," Dick muttered so that only Raven could hear him.

She gave him a smile as she watched the exchange, picking up a little resentment in the words that passed her. "You two have an interesting dynamic?"

"Yeah, if that's what you wanna call it?"

The Birds got into the back of the van, along with Rose, who was pulling a black hat over her white hair. They sat across from her behind X who manned the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Okay, who's ready to go dig some shit up?" X said tactless, failing to lighten the mood.

"Jesus Christ, X?" Jason muttered disapprovingly.

"You're horrible a human being," Dick added painfully.

Rose giggled a little amused. "I think he's kinda funny."

"Yeah JT, your girlfriend thinks I'm funny. "

"Because she has horrible taste," Jason grimaced.

"Especially in men," Raven added in her usual dispassionate tone, forcing Dick let out a muffled grunt of laughter, X trying not to smile as he silently chuckled.

"I fucking hate all of you," Jason muttered with annoyance. "So if everyone is done, we should probably go secure ourselves a place in Hell to burn for all eternity."

"Too fucking late, I put my security deposit down years ago," X said putting the van in drive.

"Yeah, my Dad's currently got mine on layaway for that fateful day," Raven added, her tone unchanged.

"Well, you better tell him to make room, cause I'm probably coming with you," her ex-leader sighed.

"Oh this is adorable, we're all gonna burn for all entirety, together," X sang jokingly.

"Just drive the fucking van."

"Jason, lighten the fuck up and smoke a cigarette, man," X suggested in a more vexed tone. "I mean, seriously, no one is looking forward to what we're about to do, we're only using humor to defuse the fact that we're just as uncomfortable as you are. Only we're trying to overcome this shit with humor, you're just being a dick. No offense, Dick."

"Okay fine," Jason sighed in submission, "let's go grave robbing, morals be damned!"

"That's the spirit, now let's do this before your sudden morality gets you killed."