AN: Look who's back. I know – I'm sorry for leaving you hanging for so long, but things have been stressful lately and will be for a while. I don't think getting out a chapter on a set day each week will be feasible for me. So, instead of giving you nothing or chapters where I can't keep up the quality, I'm going to upload more infrequently and make sure it's good.

Don't worry though. I don't abandon stories. Especially not this one because I have so much exciting stuff planned. I always come back. I'll also answer to your comments in the next few days because I love them, I appreciate all of them and they give me life.

And to make up for my disappearance I have quite an exciting chapter ready. :D

8. Gift

Red Hood readied himself to leave that afternoon. He stood in his office, checking his equipment. He always checked before leaving – something Batman had drilled into him. Usually, daytime wasn't Red Hood's time to come out, but he had to take care of a new web of dealers.

A knock. Jason grunted. He didn't have the energy to answer like a normal person.

Henry entered, frowning: "You're going out so early?"

"More dealers that didn't get the memo and they aren't big enough to waste my night on", Hood said, while he put a concealed hunting knife into a strap around his ankle.

"The ones at the elementary school? We could go take care of that", Henry said, "You don't need to do everything yourself. I was just about to ask you if I could take some of the guys and take them out."

"I'm doing it myself. You're keeping headquarters safe", Jason glared up at Henry, ignoring the constant tension in his head now that came from his fatigue.

Despite Jason's considerable height, Henry was still taller than him. Jason had worried once that Henry would try to use his imposing stature to challenge Red Hood's leadership – especially after he had been exposed as street rat Jason Todd. But Henry was as loyal as they came.

The man looked at Jason with a frown.

"I'm fine", Jason snapped.

"I didn't question that, Boss", Henry didn't seem fazed, already used to Jason's temper, "It's just some drug dealers. The Red Hood doesn't need to be the one to kill them."

"They aren't just some dealers. They are dealing to elementary school children", Jason checked his three guns.

One at a holster on each thigh and a third one concealed under his armour.

"Where is Nightwing?", Henry's was apparently in search of a lighter topic, "I've seen even less of him than usual. Is he creeping around here and we just aren't noticing him?"

Jason appreciated the effort. Nightwing was usually a safe topic. But hearing about him darkened Jason's mood even further.

"Nightwing's not creeping around anywhere. The heroes clipped his wings."

Henry sighed, apparently realizing that cheering Jason up was a lost cause.

"I'm here if you need me", Henry left Jason's office.

Jason bit his lip, feeling a pinch in his chest. He was the boss. He was supposed to be tough, so no one dared to threaten his position. Still, Henry had just been trying to be helpful and Jason had been a complete dick.

Jason sighed and put on the helmet. He had more important things to deal with than Henry's not-so-fragile feelings. Jason would bring Henry some booze and everything would be fine between them. Henry wasn't one to hold grudges.

Red Hood had more important things to deal with – like those dealers. He found their warehouse and took them out so quickly that it was embarrassing. By the time, the last guy was winding on the floor, he was surrounded by a warehouse of corpses.

He tried to crawl away but Hood smashed his spine with his boot. Hood leaned over the guy. The guy looked terrified. He was frozen now.

"How many eight-year olds did you sell to today?", Hood asked.

The guy didn't answer. Too terrified.

Jason snorted in disgust. What a piece of shit. How many lives had he destroyed for a quick buck?

"Tell your friends to not sell to kids", Jason leaned over him, using all his bulk to intimidate the guy.

The guy squeaked like the little rat he was. But he nodded, his throat apparently constricted from fear.

Jason's intimidation was half-hearted, but he didn't have it in him to do anything more elaborate. Dealing with all those little rats wore him out. Hood was eager to get to the big ones. But finding the big ones was hard and he needed all his resources to do so. So, he had to stomp out more acute problems first.

Jason righted himself leaving the man squirming on the floor: "An ambulance will come in a few minutes. Be glad that you'll live and don't pull this shit again."

Jason was leaving him alive. A warehouse of dead bodies didn't amount to anything if you had no messenger to spread the word.

"I p- promise, Mr. Hood", the guy sounded like he had pissed himself.

"Sure", Jason muttered to himself.

They all got like this when the big bad Hood was watching them but the moment he turned his back, these creeps got around to destroying lives again. One of these creeps must have sold the heroin to Catherine that had killed her. Jason forced himself to not think about his mother's empty eyes. It made his trigger finger itch, eager to blow the messenger's head off.

Jason went to the exit. On the way, he discovered a bottle of whiskey on the floor. It must have fallen from one of the tables Jason had kicked into a row of dealers. Jason checked it. Good stuff. Still sealed. Jason picked it up.

He went to his motorcycle, preferring his wheels to endlessly parkouring the rooftops. Jason mounted the motorcycle and started the engine. He would return to headquarters. Get some shut eye.

Despite the villain's scheming, things had been suspiciously quiet. Jason was waiting for the escalation that would inevitably come. Hopefully, it wouldn't be tonight. Jason didn't have the energy tonight.

On his way to headquarters, Jason used his helmet to dial Mark. The kid was squatting with all the other street kids in Jason's best safehouse. A skyscraper in Northern Gotham. One of the less dangerous areas. Red Hood had rented every flat under a different alias.

"Mr. Hood?", Mark asked.

"Everything fine on your end?", Jason asked.

He accelerated his motorcycle weaving through the cars. They didn't even dare to honk at him in fear of pissing off Red Hood. It was certainly convenient.

"Yes", Mark said, "I didn't see anything suspicious."

"Stay vigilant", Jason said, "I want at least two of you on constant lookout."

"Understood", Mark said, "I've got it all under control, Boss."

"Good", Jason ended the call.

It was abrupt, but Mark was used to Red Hood's gruff nature by now and not scared by it anymore. Bless him.

Jason hated that he had unwittingly brought all these kids into danger. Everyone in Gotham knew that Red Hood had a weak spot for street kids. It was his main vulnerability – the thing Jason himself would exploit if he was a complete psychopath trying to destroy the Red Hood.

Still, what else was Jason supposed to do? He couldn't not give these kids a home.

A nagging voice told Jason to ask for Bruce's help. The billionaire had the infrastructure and resources to get these kids away. Maybe call up the Big Blue Boy Scout and get them into a nice home in Metropolis. But Jason couldn't get himself to call Bruce.

The man said that Jason was like a son to him, but Jason had to admit that he doubted it most of the time. Jason was making nothing but trouble for Bruce. Their ideologies would always clash. Jason couldn't have his pacifist turn like Nightwing and be the good son. He couldn't press himself into this perfect image that Bruce wanted. He wouldn't accept any restraints like Nightwing did with that damn collar.

Batman had taken away all the advantages the Court had given Nightwing only leaving the weaknesses. The trauma and the weakness to the cold. A Talon with all the disadvantages and none of the advantages was a weak one. And the Talon's weaknesses were known now – with Talon-trade being the new hot branch in the underworld. It was only a question of time until someone would use this. Jason would if he wanted to take Batman down.

The Bat didn't even need to factor into it. The money on Nightwing's head was enough incentive. Jason had conducted some research in the underworld. There were people ready to pay more than a hundred million dollars for Nightwing. For his abilities and the League-secrets in his head. Batman was a control freak. In his paranoid brain, he thought that he was keeping Nightwing safe by putting a leash on him.

Nightwing must be the ultimate proof for Batman that his ideology was superior. Batman must get satisfaction out of completely declawing and indoctrinating Nightwing into his martyr complex. The golden example. The golden son. Jason felt a tang of bitterness at that thought and he wondered when that had creeped in. Should he feel jealous of Nightwing or should he pity him?

Probably pity him. Nightwing couldn't take a step without Batman knowing. Jason resented Batman for it. A part of him also resented Nightwing for letting Batman do this to him.

Bruce was wrong though. Nightwing could never be a shining example for a killer turned to the light because Nightwing wasn't a killer. He excelled at it if someone forced him to do it, but he had never wanted to. Jason was a killer. The kind that chose this path and took more than a little enjoyment out of ending people who deserved it. He didn't lose any sleep over the scumbags he had killed. He didn't keep a tally board of 'lives ended' and 'lives saved' and tried desperately to tip the scale. No. Jason was a killer through and through and Batman's moral righteousness couldn't change it.

Jason reached headquarters and stopped his motorcycle in front of it. He took the whiskey, not bothering much with securing the vehicle. If no one even dared to honk at Red Hood, no one would steal his motorcycle. And if someone dared to, they must truly be desperate, and Jason would applaud them for their bravery.

Jason was about to enter headquarters when he noticed something on the ground. A stained piece of paper lying in a puddle. Jason wouldn't have paid attention if it hadn't looked so deliberately placed. He frowned and picked it up with his free hand. It wasn't a piece of paper. No. It was a playing card. Jason turned it around, his chest tightening when he saw the Joker-face on it.

Jason's neck felt prickly. As if someone was watching.

Jason was about to call Henry to tell him to evacuate when he heard the faint beeping. Batman's training kicked in. Jason shot out his grapple and got as far away from headquarters as possible. The pressure wave of the explosion hit him mid-flight making him lose his grip on the grapple.

Jason tumbled to the ground, his body hitting the ground. Debris flew into his direction and Jason's vision was spotty for a moment. Jason curled into himself, glad that his helmet protected his head. Smaller pieces of debris rained down on him, a bigger one hitting his shoulder.

Then, it was quiet and Jason closed his eyes for a moment. Not wanting to look. He had to face it eventually though. And so, Jason raised his head to see the bombed out remains of his headquarters. There were flames on the debris eating away at the last remains.

For a moment, Jason was captivated. He felt like his mind had left his body and couldn't do anything but watch the powerful flames.

Then, his mind returned to him full force.

Jason jolted up, forcing himself to his knees. His hands were trembling. One of them forced around the top of the now-broken whiskey bottle. Jason dropped the glass. He ran into the remains without any real plan but to search for survivors.

Flames licked at Jason's suit making the material grow unbearably hot. But it held for now. So, Jason dug and dug. He found someone under a pillar that Jason wouldn't be able to lift without all this adrenaline cursing through him. Henry.

His legs looked smashed and Jason felt sick at all the blood. Henry was wheezing, half of his face melted off and blood running down his chin. But he was alive. He looked like he wanted to say something but instead of words, there was blood coming out of Henry's mouth.

"I'll save you", Jason repeated more to himself than to Henry.

He gripped Henry's torso and tried to pick him up in a fireman's carry. Henry screamed, a wet sound that made it sound like he was drowning. His foot was still stuck under some debris. Jason hadn't seen it in this hell.

"Wait", Jason felt his voice break, "I'll fix this."

He removed the debris and was about to lift Henry again. But then there was another explosion. For a moment, Jason's vision was clouded in a toxic green. The helmet kept it from going into Jason's airways. He expected to hear a laugh caused by Joker Venom. Instead, Jason heard choking around him.

The survivors of the explosion were suffocating - Jason realized with horror. This wasn't the Joker's usual Venom. It was more efficient. A gas designed to kill with a quick choke instead of drawn-out laughing.

The choking under Jason stopped. Jason pulled out a mask, desperately pushing it onto Henry's face. But it was too late. The man didn't move anymore. Jason pulled him out of the rubble and out of the green cloud. He ripped off his helmet and did CPR until he could hear Henry's ribs breaking. But it had no use. Henry's body was lifeless. He was dead.

Jason screamed in agony, accelerating his pace on Henry's chest. It was more of a desperate pushing than proper compression now. But Jason's mind was racing. He couldn't think anymore. Not when he had seen a whole building of people dying because they had believed in Red Hood.

Jason's helmet beeped. He ignored it for a while. His hands kept pushing down on Henry's chest and Jason could hear more ribs crack.

The helmet kept beeping and Jason screamed at it: "SHUT UP."

He was trying to do something good here. To save Henry.

Another crack brought Jason back to reality. It was too late. Henry was dead. Half of his legs were missing. Taken from the explosion. No one could survive this on top of all that Joker Venom.

The helmet beeped again and Jason tried to compartmentalize the corpse in front of him away. He put the helmet back on, his mouth dry. Mark was calling him.

"Kid?", Jason's voice was rough – careful.

He sounded like he had just survived a war.

There was crying on the other end. Mark. Another person Jason had pulled into this nightmare with his crusade.

"I- I'm sorry, Mr. H- Hood", Mark's voice sounded as rough as Jason.

Was he in pain?

"H- He's here. I didn't see him. I- I failed."

"You didn't fail", Jason screamed, his voice as broken as his mind, "This is all my fault. None of this is on-"

"How sweet, Red Hood. Did you know that Gift means poison in German? The one I left you is both", Joker laughed as if this was some hilarious joke, "I love it when everything comes together so nicely."

"You are sick, you fucking Clown. What is wrong with you?"

It would be smarter to negotiate with the Clown. Ask him what he wanted. But Jason had enough. He wouldn't bend to the whims of this psychopath. He would smash his face in – no matter the cost.

"So serious and broody all the time. I would assume that Batman would like you more. You two are similar in character."

"Let Mark and the kids go", Jason said, "This is between you and me."

"I mean I can let him go… out of the window."

"Fuck you, you piece of shit. I don't have patience for your bullshit."

Joker's voice sounded serious suddenly: "You want to play it serious? Fine. I'll give you five minutes. If you're late, I'm shoving the kiddies out of the window one after another. So, nice of you to provide a safehouse that is so far up."

This time, Joker ended the call and Jason was left with silence. He looked at his motorcycle. It was totalled, slammed through a neighbouring building.

With shaky knees, Jason ran to a larger street. People had stopped, staring at the cloud of smoke. Police was trying to steer them away. Jason pulled a gun on a guy, stealing his motorcycle. He accelerated it even faster this time, hurrying towards his safehouse. No one else would die for Red Hood today.

Nightwing was lying on the ground his head buzzing and spots floating in front of his gaze. There were bullets littering his body. Bullets that Harley had fired into him. Blackish blood streaked over the pavement and Nightwing felt such a deep need to let his eyelids fall shut and drift away into nothingness until his unnatural healing ripped him out of it again.

A shrill sound made him jerk up. Painful laughs all around him. The green gas was still hanging in the air. Infecting anyone who breathed it in. Nightwing had lost almost all his advantages as a Talon, but he still didn't need to breathe – which was why Harley had taken him down through the bullets.

This meant though that Nightwing was the only one who could act. The Joker's victims didn't have long. They would die from exhaustion after a few minutes of tortured laughing. Croc was winding on the floor next to him, his tail thrashing. It was stained with Nightwing's blood, smearing it farther over the pavement.

And then there was Jason. The Joker was moving against him. Nightwing couldn't lie around dead waiting for his resurrection while Jason was in danger. So, he pulled a syringe out of his utility belt with weak hands. He hoped that this antidote still worked and that the Joker hadn't modified it in another escalation of this arms race.

Batman was too far away. Nightwing wouldn't make it to him. But Croc was close. Nightwing gripped his swashing tail and plunged the syringe into it. Croc continued laughing for a few moments. Until his body stilled. Croc was wheezing for breath.

"Waylon?", Nightwing asked, hoping that the antidote worked on Croc's changed physiology as intended.

"Zombie?"

Croc moved, dragging himself towards Nightwing.

"Quinn screwed us both over", Waylon growled, sounding almost betrayed.

It surprised Nightwing. Waylon had never been someone to put his trust into many people.

"Joker in her head", Nightwing forced out.

He had given his last spout of adrenaline to cure Waylon. Now he just wanted to fall into his well-deserved, temporary death. Maybe it was fucked up of him that he looked forward to death. But – as everyone loved to remind him – Nightwing was a screwed-up person.

"How can you still defend her while you're bleeding out from her gun shots?", Waylon sounded incredulous.

Nightwing wasn't eager to discuss Harley with him. Waylon would never understand why Nightwing felt this deep need to save her.

"Waylon, my collar", Nightwing could only whisper, "Take… off."

Walyon frowned in surprise. He was hesitating.

"They're gonna be on your ass about it. Probably treat you like the bad guy again."

Nightwing knew. He could ask Waylon to give Batman the antidote and keep the collar on until Batman deactivated it to allow Nightwing to heal. But Nightwing was sick of this collar. Sick of restraining himself artificially just so that people could feel satisfaction at his punishment. Nightwing wasn't a good person. Not when the kill-side on his board was still so much longer than the save-side.

Maybe he would be a good person at some point. If he had saved more than killed. But he wasn't a villain either. He wouldn't kill people again with or without the collar. And now he needed this collar gone to save people – to save Jason. And if people saw him as a villain for freeing himself from this artificial constraint, then Nightwing himself would still know that he wasn't one.

Waylon reached for the collar, his clawed hands gripping it. The metal bent under Waylon's grip as he ripped it in half. Directly, Nightwing felt the strength flow back into his body. Made him feel like a Talon again. Maybe there were some good things in being a Talon – things that Nightwing could reclaim.

Nightwing's body jerked as the bullets clattered to the pavement and the wounds healed. He groaned in satisfaction at his body feeling whole again. Waylon watched in disgust.

"You are so gross sometimes, Zombie."

Nightwing smiled at Waylon. This man of contradictions who could be so kind and so cruel at the same time.

Nightwing gave Waylon more doses of the antidote: "Cure people."

"You serious, Zombie? That's downright heroic behaviour. You expecting that from me?"

"Yes", Nightwing said without any hesitation.

He looked up at Croc. They had a little staring match for just a moment but Waylon eventually grabbed the antidotes. While muttering something about annoying heroes, he approached one of the writhing civilians.

Nightwing hurried to Batman whose shaking body was getting weaker. He took a syringe and pushed it into Bruce's neck. Batman stilled after a few moments. Sweat was clinging to his face glistening on the exposed parts of his face.

"B?", Nightwing asked.

Batman took a few moments to soak in his breath. Then, he stood up, still a bit shaky on his knees but still the determined vigilante Nightwing admired.

"How you do?", Nightwing asked.

Batman grunted. Probably something akin to 'I am fine'. Nightwing tilted his head, examining Batman. Batman grunted again. He was in mission-mode. Brushing off Nightwing's concern.

Waylon was still curing civilians. The Joker Venom had spread far. Nightwing didn't need his sensitive hearing to note the sirens approaching.

"Go save Hood", Waylon grunted, "I'll cure people as long as I can and make sure the police gets this to make more."

Batman's chin tensed as if he distrusted Waylon's act of kindness. Staying here even if it was to save people would most likely get him thrown into Arkham again. Waylon Jones still had a long list of crimes to work off.

Nightwing smiled: "You my hero, Waylon."

Waylon scowled: "Ugh. You're so gross, Zombie. Get going before I change my mind."

Batman and Nightwing hurried to the Batmobile. They raced towards Red Hood's headquarters. The smoke had to come from there. Nightwing felt sick. What if Jason was already dead?

Nightwing called Jason's comm. Hoping that Jason had kept it on despite his issues with Bruce.

"Yes", Jason's voice sounded weary – completely done with the world.

"You alive", Nightwing's voice was dripping with relief.

"I'm the only one", Jason sounded… broken.

"Hood, where are you?", Batman's voice was all business.

"Off to make the Joker pay. He's threatening to kill the street kids. Mark is with them."

Batman's chin tightened: "Where?"

Jason hesitated.

"Jason, you need tell us. We help you", Nightwing strained to keep his voice from going out.

Today had been stressful and Nightwing suspected it would only get worse. Nightwing was surprised that his voice hadn't already gone out. He wouldn't have had this kind of resilience a year ago.

"Batman will stop me", Jason said.

Batman's hands tensed around the steering wheel. Nightwing knew that Batman would try to stop Red Hood if he attempted to kill. It was their stupid, little conflict that was tearing everything around and between them apart. Nightwing just wanted it to go away and for everyone to get along.

Nightwing looked at Batman expectantly. He knew that only Bruce could get through to Jason now. Bruce was the one who had to convince Jason.

"Jason", Batman allowed emotion to creep into his voice, becoming Bruce for a moment, "We have our differences. I won't deny that, but you are my son and I'll always come running for you."

"You'll throw me into Arkham if I kill him. We both know this wasn't an empty threat."

Bruce lowered his eyes, simply saying: "Please, let me save you, Jason."

It was quiet for a moment on the other end of the line.

"They're at Safehouse 9. N knows where it is. I'm close. You better hurry."

The call broke off.

"Where?", Bruce asked.

Nightwing opened his mouth, forcing the address out. Bruce accelerated the car, changing course. He didn't comment on Nightwing's speech problems that were creeping in again.

Nightwing closed his eyes. Trying to center himself. He had to keep it together. Keep his cool and his voice. Nothing good could come out of this situation if Nightwing went into it with his nerves already broken.

"There's another inhibitor collar in the compartment under the seat", Bruce said, "We can explain the circumstances to the League and government. It won't be pleasant, but they should accept it."

Nightwing opened his eyes and crossed his arms, forcing the words out: "I need save Jason. I need be at full strength."

Batman's head whipped around, looking at Nightwing for just a moment. Nightwing worried that his mentor was angry. He could feel the stress radiating off Bruce. It scared him. Batman was almost never scared – but he was today.

"Put it on", Bruce turned his Batman-voice back on – not accepting any interjections, "They'll throw you out of the League."

"If need be for protect Jason, then be it."

Batman's gaze stayed on the road as if he knew that his word was already law: "You are my responsibility. I have to protect you. And this collar is for your protection. No discussion."

Nightwing's throat felt dry. But he raised his chin in defiance.

"Collar make me weak", Nightwing said.

"You're weak without League protection."

Nightwing didn't let it hurt him. He knew that Bruce was scared for Nightwing and so Bruce was lashing out. He even avoided looking at Nightwing to stay distanced. Nightwing knew that tactic well enough by now.

Nightwing appreciated Batman's protection. Nightwing had needed it – even sought it out when they had first met. But Nightwing had changed a lot in the last year. He had defeated Cobb. He had saved people – like a hero would even if Nightwing didn't feel like one. He had made his relationship with Wally work. He had learned to express what he wanted. Nightwing wasn't perfect at any of these things. But he knew that he couldn't grow any more if Batman kept shielding him from everything.

"I weak with the collar", Nightwing repeated keeping his voice quiet but steady, "I know that I not a villain. If League not understand, then League not right place for me."

Batman's head whipped around again. He was definitely angry now. So angry that he couldn't keep the distance anymore. There was anger creeping into his commanding Batman-voice.

"This isn't the time for a tantrum. Jason is already giving me trouble."

"I not make tantrum. I make decision."

"You aren't thinking rationally."

His mentor's anger felt suffocating in the car.

Batman continued: "If you don't put on that collar, the League throws you out. And what then? If you're lucky, the government ships you off to some trial. If you're unlucky, they give you to Waller again. And if you're really unlucky, some traffickers get their hands on you and control you again. I can't protect you from any of that. You need League-protection."

Nightwing felt dizzy from Batman throwing this at him. It was blunt. It was mean and it was designed to hurt. The kind of tough love that Nightwing responded to.

Nightwing bit his lip, feeling the tang of blood on his tongue. It grounded him enough to answer Batman.

"I need a Dad who respect me enough for make decisions."

"I respect you", Batman looked back at the street, reigning his voice back into commanding indifference.

"You love me. You not respect me. You respect Jason."

Because Jason actually made his own decisions. Bruce respected that even if he hated Jason's decisions. Meanwhile, Nightwing was the good son who clung to Bruce's side and followed every order Bruce gave him.

Nightwing felt a pang of bitterness at the thought. How many decisions had Nightwing really made in his life? His biggest decisions consisted of finding a person he could cling to. Someone who could make decisions for him. Cobb, Jason and now Bruce. He felt foolish. Slade must have gotten more into his head than Nightwing had realized.

Nightwing wished he could be as free as Jason. Decide what he wanted to do with as much conviction as Jason. Maybe he could eventually. But to get to that point, Nightwing needed to put his foot down now.

"We can discuss this later", Batman was in mission-mode, no room for anger anymore in his voice, "Put on that collar, please."

"You can't make me", Nightwing muttered.

The realization felt slightly exhilarating because Batman couldn't make him. Nightwing had learned too much in the last year – physically and mentally - for Batman to put this collar on him when Nightwing didn't want him to.

He wondered if that was what teenage rebellion felt like. Most people were supposed to be over this at twenty. But maybe Nightwing got it now because he hadn't been allowed to live until his teen years.

Batman sighed: "I can't."

Nightwing watched Batman, wondering if he was angry. A part of him itched to appease his mentor and put on that collar before it was too late. But Nightwing swallowed it down. It was the right decision. A decision Nightwing had made. A decision a lot of people would call him a villain for.

But how had someone told him once? Villains at least had agency. And damn Slade for getting so deep into his head.

Nightwing couldn't dwell on it though. They reached the safehouse. Nightwing tensed when he heard the Joker's sick cackle.

The moment, Batman stopped the car, there was a sickening crack. Something had dropped onto their hood. Nightwing tensed, needing a split-second to take in the situation. Blood was splattered over the window.

Not something. Someone. Nightwing tried to identify the corpse but there wasn't much left to identify. He could only see that the person was a child. Nightwing's throat felt tight. He knew that he couldn't get anything out now even if he tried.

There was an anguished scream from outside. Nightwing would always recognize Jason. He hurried out of the car.

Jason looked wild as he stomped towards them. Like a rabid animal that was ready to rip anything in his way apart. A motorcycle was discarded behind him. He must have arrived with it here.

"I'll kill him", Jason screamed, his voice distorted from the helmet, "I'll fucking kill him."

Jason's gaze stopped on Bruce. He froze for a moment. Not scared. Calculating.

"And you can't stop me, so stay out of my way", Jason spit at Bruce and turned around.

Entering the building without a second glance. There was no planning. The Joker hadn't left them any time and Jason's hot head was making everything worse. The Joker had lured them here. He had planned all this and he was welcoming Jason's rage.

Nightwing and Batman exchanged a glance. They had no choice but to follow.

AN: Someone help Jason. Our boy is not okay. :,(

It's ironic though that Jason and Nightwing are both a little bit jealous of each other. The grass is always greener on the other side.