44. Painkiller

"Jason wants to kill Bruce Wayne," Talia said.

It took a long time for those words to sink in.

Dora knew Jason and Bruce had a complicated relationship, but what had gone so wrong? So wrong that Jason harbored murder in his heart?

Still, Dora asked, "Really? Are you sure?"

Talia leaned back and sighed. "I'm afraid so. He's already tried, but not succeeded."

Dora gasped, unable to speak.

"Maybe he was holding back." Talia rubbed her forehead, as if trying to make sense of it herself. "Nonetheless, he was very close. It wasn't until I learned about you that I understood why he's not made another serious attempt on Bruce's life."

"Why would Jason want to kill Bruce Wayne?"

"Because," Talia sighed, "among other things, he failed as a father."

The steward burst through the door of the lounge. "Mistress! An intruder is approaching the yacht. It's… It's him."

Talia stood up. "I was wondering when he'd show up." She picked up a remote and turned on the large TV in the room.

A security camera feed appeared, overlooking the parking lot of the dock. A figure in a red hood and black vest fought their way through the squad of ninjas that greeted them.

By the way it moved, Dora knew the figure was Jason. He wore a trimmed down version of his usual Red Hood gear. Her gear. Or at least the gear she had worn on the trip to Blüdhaven a few weeks ago. He wore the small paint-ball mask, coupled with a leather vest she knew was bullet-resistant, and top it all off, an actual red hood. He looked as much a ninja as the people he was taking down, just wearing red. Instead of guns, Jason wielded a machete… and a crowbar.

The ninjas went at him, full bore, with knives and swords and shuriken.

Jason let them come, standing his ground.

They threw shuriken and kunai at him, but Jason batted out them of the way like a Jedi.

A ninja closed the distance, swiping with a sword. Jason batted the arm out of the way with the crowbar—at the wrist, breaking it. As the ninja howled in pain, his voice was cut off. Jason had stepped in, and hacked into his neck in two with the machete.

The next ninja came from behind and stabbed Jason in the shoulder, drawing blood. Jason spun, swinging both his weapons in a close arc. The ninja was smashed first by the crowbar, stunned, then sliced open by the machete, killed.

A third ninja pounced from above, stabbing downward. Jason kneeled, so the attacker overshot. As he rolled to recover, he found Jason's machete cleaving into his rib cage. A fourth ninja took the crowbar to the temple as Jason pulled out his blade.

Dora recognized these techniques from her knife training with him—he was using kali.

The fight proceeded like that as Jason gained ground toward the dock. He was in prime form—dodging, parrying, and counter-attacking, so fluid, it looked like a rehearsed dance. He gave better than he got, but… he still got some. Dora didn't know how much more he could take, how many ninjas Talia had to spare.

"Stop!" Dora shouted. "Enough!"

"Should I call in reinforcements, mistress?" the steward asked, her professional facade cracking, her voice quivering with nerves.

"And overburden the infirmary unit? I'd rather not. Radio, please." Talia held out her hand, and the steward gave her a two-way radio. She held the talk button and said something in some dialect of Chinese or Japanese, followed by, "Stand down; let him through."

Instantly, on the screen, the fight halted. All the ninjas retreated from Jason, then stood in place, clasping their hands and bowing at him.

Jason didn't relax his fighting stance, looking over his shoulder, scanning the area. "Talia!" Jason roared, his voice broken and fuzzy on the speaker. "Where. Is. She."

Talia twisted a nob on the radio, and spoke, "Pax, Jason. You should have announced your arrival, and my people would not have attacked. But please, come aboard. She's safe." Her voice echoed on a loud speaker.

The remaining ninjas stepped aside and stood straight, forming a path down the parking lot and dock to the yacht. Jason finally relaxed his fight stance, and stomped his way down the path, flicking the blood off his weapons and holstering them across his back.

A minute later, Jason entered the lounge. Dora's first instinct was to embrace him but she could feel the anger radiating from him like heat from an churning engine.

She hesitated, afraid.

Jason glared at the steward through a black domino mask, the lenses glowing red. "Leave." His voice had a husky growl to it Dora had never heard before. He sounded like… Batman.

The girl hesitated, afraid.

"I said go!" Jason barked.

With a whimper, the girl shuffled away in a hurry, not even looking at Talia for confirmation.

With the steward gone, Jason pulled back the red hood, and removed the plated mask covering his mouth and nose, pocketing it. The domino mask with the burning red lenses remained. Dora could tell the scowl molded into the brow matched his face underneath.

"Talia."

"Jason."

"Why did you take her?" he demanded.

She frowned. "To protect her, of course."

"I was protecting her."

Dora spoke up. "Hey, I protected myself tonight."

Jason's searing gaze turned on her.

She never thought he would look at her at that way, with his anger boiling over. It wasn't because of her… but it was still there. Able to burn her if she got too close.

"You can't be everywhere at once, Jason," Dora continued. "I took out… I don't know, a lot of False Facers." She had fought a few, shot a few, and… to her own shock, she had lost count. The night was a blur.

Talia placed a hand on Dora's shoulder. "As as formidable as you are, Dora…."

They could hear the leather of Jason's gloves tightening. "Don't touch her," he snarled.

Talia removed her hand slowly. "And as skilled and dangerous as you are Jason. You are not an army. If you recall… I have an army."

"You haven't kept up with me then. I have an army now too."

"Oh no, my dear, I have kept up. You have a gang of undisciplined outlaws. I have a legion of the world's top assassins. You should know, you were one of them."

"I was your dog!" Jason snapped.

"Yes, my little stray. How loyal you were." Talia approached him, looking him in the eye. Jason didn't move, except to keep his back away from her. "How… ferocious you were."

"I'm not your pet anymore, Talia."

"No, not anymore. I nursed you back to health. I gave you the tools and the skills you needed to fight injustice, and this is how you repay me? By distracting yourself with this… girl?"

"I am still on mission."

"Yes, but you dally, my pet. It's never taken you this long to take over an underworld."

"I don't care." Jason's shoulders drooped a little. "This isn't your fight anymore, Talia. It's mine, and I have to be careful now. For her, for the people she cares about. For the people I care about now. I…"

Jason hesitated and he broke eye contact with Talia. His red gaze landed on Dora. His voice softer, he said, "I love her."

Talia laughed warmly. "I can see that. You've changed." Talia walked up to Jason and boldly put her hands on his face. He huffed and drew back a little, but he didn't stop Talia as she peeled off his mask. "You know me, Jason. I cannot help myself, I'm a hopeless romantic, too. Love has always been both my damnation and my salvation."

With his mask off, Dora could see fury, but also desperation in his eyes. Fear.

Talia circled back around and handed Dora the mask. "You need not worry, my dear, I'm quite delighted that you've found a caring companion to temper your spirit during this trial." She pinched Dora's chin softly. "She will be your salvation in this endeavor, Jason. Do not make the same mistakes I did. Do not take her for granted, else you be damned as I've been."

Talia took both their hands and joined them together. Jason's long fingers wrapped around Dora's smaller palm. Talia kissed their knuckles each in turn, and whispered something in a language Dora didn't recognize, adding in English, "May your love endure to the last."

What just happened? Dora asked herself. She looked at Jason, but didn't get any hints from him. Talia's gesture seemed oddly ceremonial.

"We don't need your blessing, Talia," Jason spoke up.

"No, but you wanted it." She smirked.

"Thank you for taking care of her. I got it from here." Jason squeezed Dora's hand and led her away. "Let's go, Dora."

Dora looked back, uncertain about the exchange that just happened.

Talia mouthed the words, "Good luck." She bowed her head slightly.

Dora silently replied, "Thank you," nodding.

As soon as they set foot on the dock, Jason shrugged off his hooded vest and put it on Dora, zipping it to her chin and pulling the hood up. He hugged her so hard, Dora felt something in her shoulders pop.

When Jason finally pulled away, his hands were shaking. "I was worried sick. I thought… they took you away from me."

Dora held his hand and pulled it to her heart. "I'm only safe because of you. Because of the things you and Jessie and Lily taught me."

Jason shook his head. "No. You were in the crossfire because of me. I put you in danger. I shouldn't have let you come along."

"How could you known the False Facers would follow you across the god damn ocean to China?"

Jason snarled. "I've gotten complacent and careless. Things have been going too well for too long. Black Mask must have been watching this whole time, waiting for me to show a weakness or vulnerability. That's why he sent his thugs after us, even overseas."

"Do you think Sionis knows who I am? Does he know about my family?" If Batman and the GCPD knew, why wouldn't Black Mask?

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Whatever the case, things are going to change when we get back to Gotham."

Dora thought about Mercy, Carla, and her mother. Right now, in Gotham, without her or Jason there, they were exposed. And they weren't aware of the threat.

Jason read her mind. "We need to get back to Gotham, ASAP."

#

Not an hour later, after weaving through the streets of Hong Kong with Jason on the back of a commandeered motorcycle, Dora found herself at a private airport, boarding his personal jet. With a few phone calls and text messages to Jessie—all made through his mask—he had somehow fast-tracked their way through security and a flight plan.

Once in the jet, Jason practically collapsed into his seat. The pilots sealed the doors and went to the cockpit, leaving Dora and him alone.

"Wait, what about Jessie?" Dora asked, looking out the window.

"She's staying behind to finish negotiating the deal with Suzie Su." Jason tapped something into his phone. "Whatever you left behind at the hotel, she'll bring back later."

"Are you sure she'll be good on her own?"

"Yeah, no worries…" Jason groaned as he pulled his seatbelt on, shifting in his seat. He looked pale. Paler than usual. "Suzie and the Flower Triad have her back now."

The plane shuddered as it took off and Jason huffed in discomfort again. Dora was familiar with the strained grimace on his face. He usually tried his best to avoid having his wounds treated by her, but when Reilly or another of his mob medics weren't around, he didn't have a choice. Dora didn't give him one. Time to play nurse again.

When the plane was finally cruising, Dora got up, retrieved the EMS bag from the closet.

"I'm fine," Jason insisted. "Sit back down. Get some rest."

They were in for a long trip back, with a layover in Star City. "You're bleeding all over your seat."

"It's their blood, not mine."

"Okay, big guy." Dora walked over with the EMS bag. "Try and stop me." She yanked on the reclining lever, throwing the seat back.

"Ow!" Almost flat on his back, Jason tried to get up, but being idle had made his body stiff. "Fuck…"

Without a stool to pull up and nowhere to sit, Dora had little choice than to mount Jason's seat and straddle him.

"Okay, this isn't too bad." Jason rotated his hips underneath her.

"Hold still," Dora said, kissing his forehead. His skin was clammy, and he was trembling a little. He had driven a motorcycle to the airport, while bleeding, and only wearing a tight athletic undershirt. He was coming off an adrenaline high, and going into shock. At that moment, she hated how tough he was. She grabbed a pair of scissors.

Often, it was a treat tearing off Jason's clothes. Ripping through his clothes to reveal a chiseled physique beneath, poised and ready to ravish her… or be ravished by her. However, it was disheartening in equal measure to see Jason's body sliced with nasty cuts, riddled with bullet wounds, and blemished with motley bruises. Dora was getting used to it now, but it still wasn't easy. The False Facers were a fan of knives. Or was it the swords from Talia's ninjas? Either way, Jason was covered in numerous gashes that needed stitches.

As she got ready, Jason closed his eyes and transitioned into a meditative state, a state of mind he used during yoga and calisthenic routines to prolong his stamina and endurance.

Dora didn't mind. It meant Jason would lie near perfectly still as she worked on him. And as a bonus, she had discovered that he was less withholding of his thoughts and feelings in this state.

"Are you sure Suzie is going to look after Jessie?" Dora flushed a cut on his stomach with saline and dabbed it clean with gauze. She should have put a towel down, but the seat was ruined already.

"Yeah," Jason sighed. "Talia will make sure of it. She and Suzie are familiar. I made introductions years ago."

"Talia will do that without you asking?"

"She already did, or else you wouldn't be here. Besides, it's in her best interest to back the Triad. The League needs allies."

Dora dabbed clean another cut. "Do you… Do you still work for the League of Assassins?"

Jason grimaced in discomfort. "She told you about the mission, huh?"

"No, you told me about the mission, months ago. When you kissed and ghosted me." Dora tossed away some blood-stained gauze. "Tonight, Talia told me she was the one that gave it to you."

Jason shifted in his seat. "She thinks she gave me this mission to take over Gotham, but it's something I've been wanting to do for years, ever since…" Jason looked at his hands. His tactical gloves had hard nylon knuckles… which were chipped, stained with blood, and embedded with a little viscera. "… I discovered I was able to." His hands trembled and he took off the gloves, tossing them aside.

"Why is she so invested in seeing you succeed?" Dora held up a syringe of lidocaine questioningly.

Jason looked at it and nodded. "You mean why is she so worried that I'll fuck things up?"

"I guess."

"She has history in Gotham… it's complicated." Jason tried to find Dora's eyes with his own, but she avoided them. "It's her business to share, not mine. Did she tell you?"

Dora's heartbeat sped up and she looked away. It's her business whether you kill Bruce Wayne? She concentrated instead on the syringe.

"This'll sting," she said, biting her lip as she injected Jason's wounds with the local anesthetic. Jason groaned in discomfort, but didn't move. Her eyes teared up. She hated to see Jason in pain—she hated more being the one that caused it. All she wanted was for him to be at be peace.

After lidocaine shots were done, Dora readied a suture needle and forceps, and leaned in to stitch Jason up.

Jason grabbed her wrist. Tightly. His voice gained a growl. "What did she tell you about the mission, Dora?"

Dora stared at him, surprised. "She… just said, um…"

His eyes became dark, losing their blue color in the low light. "What did she say?" His grip tightened.

Dora cringed in pain and dropped the forceps. "Jason… you're hurting me." She pried her hand out of his grip, and he let her go. She rubbed her wrist. It had been months since she first burned her hand throwing that Molotov cocktail, but the skin was still tight and irritable.

"Sorry," he whispered, realizing what he had done. He relaxed, the overhead light catching his eyes and turning them blue again.

"She just said you're taking too long." Dora took a breath and tried to pretend that didn't happen. "You're stretching yourself too thin and losing focus on what's important. It's the reason why we got attacked tonight."

"Always a critic. If it's not her way, it's no way."

"Hold still, please." She set to work stitching up a cut across his left pectoral, just below his clavicle. When she finished, she taped a bandage over it. The first of many.

Jason placed his hand over hers, over his heart, gentle with the burn scar on her wrist. "It'll be over soon, Dora, I promise."

She hesitated, studying him. Trying to figure out what side of him she was looking at.

Jason.

Or Red Hood.

After a moment, she leaned in and kissed him. "Just remember what you're fighting for."

#

Dora spent the rest of the flight sowing and patching Jason up like one of Mercy's ragdolls. After taking care of his chest, stomach, and arms, she dragged him to the bed in the plane's private cabin, and set to work on his back. She fully understood now why he wore layers and layers of armor, even if it was unwieldy. Being more agile obviously had diminishing returns.

With a short layover in Star City to refuel the jet, it took just under 24 hours total to travel to Gotham. They didn't bother disembarking during the fuel stop, and just slept nearly the entire Star-to-Gotham leg, Jason holding Dora close to his chest like a life-vest that would save him from drowning. Dora didn't mind, she was too tired to move… and she felt safe in arms.

It was the middle of the night when they arrived in Gotham. Heavy rain and a motorcade of Street Demonz greeted them at the private airfield. Coming out of the plane, Jason had insisted Dora wear his ballistic vest with the hood up. Reilly was waiting next to a van, worried sick, and he cussed his lungs out when he saw the cuts and bruises on Dora's face.

"Mija, your mama is going to kill me." He pulled her into gentle hug. "Your pop is rolling over in his grave."

"I'm fine now," Dora insisted. "But yeah, what are we gonna do about Mami?

"Hopefully, she'll heal up before Anita can get a good look," Jason said, walking up to them. He wore his "classic" red domino with the white lenses. "You get my orders?"

Reilly looked grim. "Winter Contingency?" Jason nodded in response.

"What?" Dora looked between the two of them. "What's 'Winter Contingency?'"

Jason ignored her. "Did you post Demonz on her mother's apartment like I said? The Alibi?"

Reilly nodded. "A dozen, but in plainclothes. Hope that's okay. Anita would be spooked otherwise."

Rubbing his chin, Jason nodded. "Yeah, could tell us if the False Facers even know Dora's identity. Add another dozen. I want to ensure they'll be safe. Don't want them to be bait, or sitting ducks. Stop any False Facers before they even get close."

Reilly looked conflicted. "As much as I appreciate you looking out for my family, you're spreading us pretty thin, Rojito. We need men for retaliation."

"They attacked me, not the Demonz," Jason said, angry again. "I'll handle retaliation for now, covertly. I'll do some recon, plan for a bigger counter-attack that won't make our guys cannon fodder. You focus on security for now."

"Alright."

"Take Dora to the Vermilion. I gave Ma and Holly a head's up. Move out."

"Yes, sir. And don't forget this." Reilly held out Jason's Street Demonz cut. "I know this is personal, but we still need a leader."

Jason shrugged it on, and gave Dora final lingering look. He mouthed I love you, before jogging off to join a small pack of bikers waiting with his motorcycle.

"What just happened?" Dora asked, watching Jason peel out of the lot, his bike snarling.

"Shit's getting more serious," Reilly said. "Let's go."

#

Thankfully, when Dora arrived at the Vermilion's lobby, she found only Holly waiting to greet her, Ma Gunn was nowhere to be seen.

Holly wasted no time glomping Dora and giving her a once-over like Reilly did. "So glad you're okay!"

"Are you okay?" Dora asked. "How's Mercy, Carla, and my mom? I haven't had the time to call them. Things have been moving so fast."

"I'm fine; they're fine. The False Facers haven't made a move on us here."

"Yet," Reilly interjected. "I'm going to check on them right after this. We still gotta be careful. Rojito said he killed every False Facer in the Iceberg Lounge that saw your face, but he can't be sure they didn't know who you were or what you looked like before that attack, or even if they reconnoitered during. He's hoping they still think you're… What was your cover?"

"Danna from the Venom Cartel." Dora shivered as the revelation hit her. No wonder Jason nearly went feral at the arena—he didn't want to risk exposing her identity.

"We got her covered from here. Thanks, Reilly," Holly said.

"Thanks, niña." He nodded and left in a hurry.

In his place, stepped in a man in a sleek gothic suit. Beau, the Vermilion's manager. He held up a keycard. "Shall I show you to your room, miss?"

"Sure?" Dora said. "I'm getting a room?"

Holly hooked her elbow around Dora's. "It's more like a suite."

A long elevator ride later, Beau led them down an extensive hallway to a door flanked by a burly bellhop, keeping guard. Dora knew he was actually a bouncer that kept the brothel's johns in line.

Beau opened the door and handed Dora the keycard. "Only you and Red Hood have a copy. Don't lose it."

Dora pocketed it and gawked at the room. "Whoa…"

The suite was larger than her mother's apartment. Set with modern furnishings and colored in hues of gray, burgundy, and walnut, it had an open floor plan with a large living area, a combination kitchenette-bar, an entertainment center with a TV wider than her arm-span. To the side, separated by double-doors, was the bedroom with a bed Dora estimated was the size of a small swimming pool. She turned the corner to find a full-size walk-in closet and a bathroom with a standing shower and a hot-tub.

"I think she likes it." Holly smiled. Beau smiled too, giving her a fist bump.

"What am I going to do with all this space?" Dora turned back to them. "Why give me the best room in the hotel? Couldn't you have holed me up in a smaller, more discreet room?"

Beau scoffed. "Honey, this isn't the best of the Vermilion. It's only the second-best suite we offer, and not the only one on this floor. For your sake, we're using the penthouse suite two floors up as a decoy."

Holly continued. "If the False Facers somehow make it inside, and that's a big what-if—putting you in a smaller room on the lower floors would leave you vulnerable—along with the anyone staying in the neighboring rooms. The further you are from the ground floor, the safer."

Beau stepped in. "Unlike the penthouse suite, the elevator doesn't open directly to this room, and you don't have an open balcony and huge windows for anyone to take advantage of." He mimed using a sniper rifle.

Holly pointed back at the doorway. "Plus, the hallway leading to this room is a bottleneck, only accessible by the elevator and stairs at the other end."

"The bouncers can just mow down any intruder trying to make a break for it. Which reminds me…" Beau pulled out his phone and started tapping it. "Gotta ask the Demonz to kit us out with some assault rifles."

"I don't really like the sound of that." Dora's mind was whirling. "I'm allowed to leave, right?"

Holly's smug smile faltered. "I mean… if you want to risk it…" She looked at Beau.

"We'll muster up a security detail for you, sure." Beau frowned. "But Ma and Red want you to hunker down for at least a few days. Wait for the heat to die down. Don't worry. You have unlimited room service, whatever you want, all comped. Nothing less for Red's girl. Talk to the bouncer outside your door, there'll always be one. Or call me personally." He handed Dora his card.

Holly looked at Dora's bruised face, disheveled hair, and wrinkled tracksuit with concern. "Relax and make yourself comfortable. I'll bring up something to eat."

Holly and Beau left, leaving Dora dizzy… and anxious. All this trouble, just for her? She didn't know if she felt more safe… or more freaked out.

One thing was certain. She felt helpless.

Like a princess sequestered in a tower.

And she didn't like it.

Notes

Jason in full Outlaw gear! I had to cameo the outfit. Say what you want, but I actually like the redesign. I prefer the helmet and jacket, but I don't hate the hoodie and mask look either.

I tried to inject some hurt/comfort into the story that still drives the plot in this chapter. I'm really trying to set up the final arc of the story. I've been working on this story for like.. six years. It's about time I wrap it up.

And sound off in the comments. Do you think Jason is being overprotective? Or taking logical necessary precautions?

Song Reference: "Painkiller" by Three Days Grace

Version 44.1