Terribly sorry about the long wait, but finals… so anywoo, here's my present to you guys for the holidays. Hope you enjoy!

When the smoke cleared, the victim was curled in a fetal position, groaning in pain. The criminal was zip-tied in front of Robin. Batman dropped in front of the victim, Walter Rowley, and assessed the damage. There was a bullet hole in his side and, based on the amount of blood and his knowledge of human anatomy, Batman would say the kidney was hit. Fortunately, due to the close range, the bullet went straight through Rowley.

Batman called for Red Robin and instructed him to keep pressure on the wound. Behind him, Nightwing spoke to the authorities on his comm. Since this was a hostage situation, Batman had already accounted for tonight going wrong, so he made sure both the police force and medics were outside and at the ready if need be. And thank god he did.

Soon, two paramedics and two cops, along with the Commissioner entered the warehouse. Rowley was wheeled out on a gurney while Lawrence had cuffs on his wrists. Gordon started to walk towards Batman and the rest of his companions (sans a certain gun-wielder), so Batman turned to the two youngest.

"You two," he pointed at Red Robin and Robin, "deal with the Commissioner, then go home." He shot them a glare when they began to protest, killing any arguments they could have had. He aimed his grapple upwards and allowed the line to pull him towards what would turn out to be one of the worst moments he would ever have with his son.

It took no time to find the rooftop where Red Hood had positioned himself. It wasn't difficult due to the fact that the younger man had been pacing like a pissed-off tiger after losing its meal.

Batman stood silently, tracking every moment. He could practically see the anger radiating off of Red Hood. Jason has always been an unstable powder keg, even more so after his return, and now, Bruce felt like he just dosed the gunpowder in gasoline and took out a flare. He was in a dangerous position and he knew it. And so did Jason.

"Give me one reason, Bruce. Just one fucking reasoning why I shouldn't kick your ass here and now on this godforsaken rooftop," Jason spat through gritted teeth.

"Look, I know you're angry-" Bruce tried to placate the young man.

"Angry? No, no, I'm not angry, because that would imply there is actually a word to describe exactly how fucking pissed off I am."

Bruce pushed his cowl off, running a gloved hand across his face. So, it was gonna be one of those nights. He knew on his way to the rooftop that this was not going to go well, but he still felt the disappointment pool in his chest.

This was how things always went with Jason. There would be a period of peace that would inevitably lead to a massive falling out. And normally, Jason would be the one to slip up (although the younger man never saw it that way); however, tonight's different. Bruce couldn't shake the feeling that this time, he would be the one at fault here. That meant it was up to him to try and maintain this "peace" as long as he could, no matter how short-lived it would be end up being.

Jason leaned against the roof's ledge, hands in his pockets to hide how much they were shaking. He wanted to beat the shit out of something, anything, and right now he had a target in front of him that was looking extremely punchable. Yet, despite the rage that fueled him, Jason kept his voice even and on the quieter side when he spoke.

"So, tell me, B," he queried, "why the fuck didn't you let me take the shot?"

"As I said, we had it handled. You should have listened."

"You should have trusted me," Jason shot back with no hesitation. "I guess that's always been the crux of our problems, B. You still don't fucking trust me."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. "If that were true, I never would have let you come on this mission," he reasoned, "nor would I let you use a gun."

"Nonono, I'm talking about how you don't trust me not to kill. Despite the fact that I haven't even come close to killing anyone in almost two years, you still think I'm going to turn back into that person." Bruce tried to interject, but Jason didn't give him the opportunity. "Not only do you not trust me, but you go out of your way to show it."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Bruce could feel his patience starting to slip.

"I'm talking about the fact that you dropped a smoke bomb to stop me from taking the shot, WHICH," he raised his voice, "might I add, was aimed at his shoulder."

Jason pulled one of his hands out of his pocket to tap his chin as he feigned confusion, pushing off the ledge to pace a few lengths. "Oh, and how did that plan go?" He asked, coming to a stop and expertly ignoring the heated glare focused on him. Jason let more of his anger bleed into his voice as he turned on his former mentor. "Oh yeah, horribly. What a fan-fucking-tastic plan, by the way. You decided that you would prefer to risk the citizen getting hurt, or worse, rather than take the chance of me killing the criminal. And let me reiterate, I was aiming for the fucker's shoulder! The worst that could've happened would be he can't use his arm for a bit, BUT GOD FORBID YOU PUT A FUCKING OUNCE OF TRUST IN ME!" By the end, Jason was shouting, finding it increasingly more difficult to stifle his wrath. Then Bruce had the audacity to give him an 'are you done' look. Oh no, Brucey. Not even close.

"You know something funny about that plan, Jay," Bruce mused, "I never would've even gone through with it had you listened to orders." Bruce heard a wince come from behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Dick. The Romanian acrobat must have slipped onto the roof not too long ago. Part of him felt relieved to have his eldest there; Dick always tries to referee Bruce and Jason's arguments to prevent something catastrophic from occurring. But Bruce also felt sick to his stomach that they even need Dick to do that.

In front of him, Jason laughed humorlessly, scrubbing a gloved hand across his mouth. "You know, I almost forgot that we're nothing but soldiers to you," Jason growled.

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh, then please, Bruce," Jason jeered, spreading his arms, "by all means. Enlighten me."

Dick must have done something behind Bruce because Jason's heated gaze snapped past the Cape Crusader, before he seethed, "I swear to all that is holy, Dick, if you don't want me to kick the ever-living shit out of you right now, then keep your mouth shut."

In hindsight, Bruce should have taken this small distraction as a chance to calm down a bit, but he was on the end of his rope.

"Fine, Jason. You wanna know why I don't trust you?" he fumed, feeling any patience he once held leave him like a leaf falls from a tree after a gust of wind.

"Bruce…" a warning came from behind him. A warning he should have listened to.

"No no, Dickie. Let the man speak." Jason crossed his arms and leaned back with a smirk on his face. "This should be good."

"You're too wild. You never have any plan, which makes you dangerous, because the moment shit hits the fan, you resort to unnecessary violence. And one day, you will kill again, I'm just waiting for that shoe to drop."

"Wait," Jason interrupted, "you can't hold me accountable for something I haven't done yet. That's not fair."

Bruce could hear another emotion hidden underneath the anger in Jason's words, but Bruce kept going. "No, what's not fair is how we all have to tread lightly whenever any of us are around you because the moment you get angry, something inside you snaps and there is no knowing what you might do. Why do you think I'm wary when you are out with your brothers?" Hurt flashed in his son's eyes, but Bruce ignored it. "You are nothing like the young boy I took in all those years ago. That kid had compassion and empathy. I spent so much energy teaching this misguided boy all that I could, and then some, all for it to be twisted and used against me. That is what's not fair, Jason. Something in you broke a long time ago and you've only made things worse by becoming this person who has no resemblance to that young boy I brought into my home." He ignored the 'screw you' to continue to make his point. "I had one rule: no killing. And what did you do? You went on a goddamn killing spree. You have absolutely no morals."

"No," Jason countered after reaching his 'bullshit limit,' "I don't have your morals. There might not be a difference to you, you asshole, but that in no way means there isn't one." The young vigilante maintained a composed stance, but his eyes were a deep pool of emotions. And if Bruce to a second to register the distress he was causing, he would have backed off. Instead, he focused on one particular part of Jason's statement.

"That's another thing; you have no respect." Jason met his eyes, rolling his shoulders back slightly. He knew exactly what Bruce was referring to and he was gonna stand by his words… or rather one word specifically.

"I'm not wrong. You are an asshole."

"That's not the point."

"Ahh," Jason smiled, "so you admit I'm right. You are indeed an asshole."

"Jason! It doesn't matter whether you were right or wrong. You have to be respectful."

"Hell no. I'm not going to respect someone who doesn't deserve my respect."

Jason lifted his chin slightly, daring Bruce to argue with that. And he did.

"Whether or not he deserves anything is beside the point. We have to work as a team, which means no more mouthing off to me anymore. Do you understand me?" His voice was assertive and unwavering. Jason's eyes narrowed as he nibbled his bottom lip.

"I understand."

That threw Bruce for a loop. Definitely wasn't expecting that, but he maintained his guard. He's already learned things don't come easy with his wayward son.

"But there's no way in hell that's happening."

"Dammit, Jason!" He shouted. "You want a reason to respect me? Fine. You should respect me because I have never ran around killing people on a whim just because I'm pissed off!" He should've stopped there. He really should have. Jason immediately returned to his tense position. Why the hell didn't he stop?

"You know, blame me all you want for your problems, Jason. But do not pretend for one second that you aren't one hundred percent responsible for your actions. I get that after what happened with Joker, you had the right to be angry." He saw Jason flinch, but he continued. "But you had several options to deal with that anger, many of which didn't involve becoming mass murder just to prove a point! We could have gotten you help-" Bruce got cut off by a sharp snort.

"I seem to recall your idea of help consisted of locking me up in Arkham with the same son of a bitch who…" The young man trailed, unable to finish the sentence. "How'd that turn out? Hmm?"

For the first time since the argument started, Bruce took in his son's appearance. At the surface, Jason looked downright livid. However, now he saw past the anger. There was a pain in his eyes, both from the current argument and past memories. His hands trembled slightly, and he was biting his lower lip. Overall, Jason looked exhausted.

Bruce sighed before running a hand through his hair. He could bring up how he only went that route because of Jason's initial decision to come back to Gotham guns blazing, but that would only make things worse. Well, worse than things already were. Damn, for a while there, they were doing okay. This time, he only had himself to blame for messing everything up.

"Jason," he started placidly, "I apologize. This is most definitely not how I wanted this conversation to go. This isn't over, not by a long shot, however, this is neither the time nor place to have this talk." A little late for that, he thought. "We're both exhausted, so we're not exactly in the right state of mind at the moment. And as I said before, we have to work together. So, how about, for the time being, we put a hold on this conversation until after we get some rest. Then we can revisit this. Okay?"

Bruce kept quiet, watching as his second-oldest closed his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, they reminded Bruce of a sea right before a storm. The way the blues and greens mixed together perfectly mimicked the rising waves and thunderous clouds clashing in a fight for dominance.

"With all due respect, Bruce," Jason spat, "Go fuck yourself."

Bruce took a step forward, causing Jason to take a step back, lifting a hand to signal Bruce to stay the hell away. He felt his veins turn to ice and a knot forming in the back of his throat, making it hard to swallow. Bruce crossed so many lines tonight, and if the cold, reserved look in Jason's eyes were anything to go by, there was no recovering from that anytime soon, or at all.

Jason opened his mouth to continue arguing, but he found absolutely no fight left in him, just an overwhelming desire to leave.

"You're wrong, you know" his voice was quiet and calm. Bruce almost wished he would just start yelling and swearing and tear him a new one because he deserved it. He couldn't stand the lack of fire that he was witnessing.

"We don't have to work as a team, because whatever this is," Jason waved his hand back and forth between the two of them, "is, in fact, over. I'm not kidding Bruce," he stated as the elder man started to object, "I'm not doing this anymore. I'll continue not killing criminals, but in return, you are going to stay the fuck away, okay?"

Bruce felt as if he blinked and his son was gone. Nowhere in sight. He turned to head home himself and stopped short. Dick sat on the edge of the roof, hands over his mouth and a small wet line marking his cheek. His eldest looked torn. Bruce felt the same. The urge to go after Jason was almost too strong to ignore, but he knew he would only make things worse.

Dick looked as if he wanted to comfort his father figure, but found himself unable to do anything more except shake his head in disbelief.

He sat next to Dick on the ledge, head in hands as he replayed the night's events.

Bruce asked himself the question that Jason voiced earlier that night.

What the fuck did he just do?

"Why weren't you there?"

"Why didn't you save us?"

"What took so long?"

"How come you didn't save us?"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE US?!"

Jason sat up quickly, gasping for air with a knot in his stomach. Knowing what was to come, he twisted, almost falling onto the floor in his effort to leave the bed. Fortunately, there was a bathroom connected to the small room and he wasted no time finding the porcelain bowl.

He dropped to his knees as he emptied the contents of his stomach, which wasn't much. When vigilante finished dry-heaving, he reached up and flushed the toilet, wishing he could just watch his problems spin away over and over again until they finally got sucked away, never to be seen again. But sadly, he had way too many problems, so they would end up getting clogged anyways.

Jason pushed himself against the parallel wall, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as he tried to regain control over his haggard breathing. His dreams were plagued with the faces and voices of those women. He wished he had actually heard their screams because that would have meant they would've been alive and able to be saved. Instead, Jason found their silence louder than any scream. He never heard their pleas and prayers bounce off the cold walls or their last breath be one of relief that their torment was over. All because he was too late.

As much as he wanted to torture Orlando for what he did, Jason wanted to torture himself more for what he didn't do. And his subconscious definitely felt up for the challenge. He might as well wish for a good night's sleep goodbye. Not like that happened anyway, but now it certainly wasn't going to get any better.

Knuckles rapping on the doorframe pulled him away from his thoughts. Jason opened one eye just enough to see who stood at the threshold of the bathroom. When he saw his idiotic brother, he groaned and let his head drop.

"Well, don't you look like a bucket of sunshine!" Dick laughed. Of all the people to be here, Dick is the last person Jason wants to see...well, second to last.

"What do you want, Dickie?" Jason asked shortly. He wasn't in the mood for Mr. Isn't-the-World Just-Dandy right now. Dick shuffled past Jason to put the cover on the toilet down to so he had a place to sit. The pair studied each other in silence; one concerned and the other daring him to judge. It's been an on-going battle between the two. Dick just wants to care for his Little Wing and his Little Wing could not care less about what Dick wants.

"So, what's going on, Jay?" Dick casually asked, "And don't say-"

"Nothing."

"-nothing." His older brother let out a sigh. The younger of the two received the 'you're impossible' look. He shrugged indifferently in return.

It was Dick who relented first. "Fine," he threw his hands skyward as he groaned, "Keep your secrets, Mr. Hood." Jason smiled, shaking his head at his brother's folly. The two sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

"So, we're meeting in the break room, since our conference room has been destroyed. You don't need to wear all your gear or anything, none of us are. Too much effort for just a meeting." Dick stood up, offering a hand to Jason, who waved it away. He wasn't fully confident that he wouldn't throw up again the moment he left solid ground.

"Even B's foregoing the whole 'uniform' shtick? That can't be right." Jason mused. He couldn't picture Bruce wearing casual clothes in front of all those heroes. And apparently, he wouldn't have to since Dick grimaced.

"Weeellll," he drawled, "he's not. Nor is Shazam, Lantern, Superman, or Martian Manhunter. Everyone else though."

Jason hummed in thought before finally deciding to get up. Back in the room, he smacked the redhead to wake him up. He knew from experience that Roy was a deep sleeper and a shoulder shake wouldn't be enough. Still, Roy just groaned and mumbled something incomprehensible.

Behind him, Dick threw Jason a clean black shirt. Lots of people thought Jason was similar to Bruce when it comes to size and weight, but in truth, he only had slightly more muscle and build than Dick.

When he pulled his grey shirt off, he could see Dick scrutinizing him, looking for any new injuries. And oh boy, did Jason have some nasty wounds. The hardened glance he sent to his brother was enough to convey that Dick isn't to say anything concerning his injuries.

Hitting Roy one more time, he and his brother left the small dorm.

While the meeting was supposed to be about making a plan to deal with aliens, it certainly didn't go that way. Somehow, the group had gotten into a discussion about religion.

"We don't even have any active churches in Gotham, only one really old abandoned church," Tim announced from behind his laptop screen in his argument of why they (meaning the Gothamites) aren't that religious. "And the nearest church is about an hour outside the city, so…" he trailed off, as an alert appeared on his screen. *10% Low Battery – 15 Minutes Remaining – Please Find a Power Source*

"That's not true," Jason mumbled before taking a sip from his cold coffee. He had been watching Roy fiddle with… whatever the hell that mess of parts was supposed to be… and spaced out, lost in thoughts. However, Tim's comment grabbed his attention just like his own comment grabbed the rest of the room's attention, several pairs of wide eyes on him, as if most of the heroes all had forgotten he was in the room. Which was entirely plausible, seeing as Jason hadn't moved or spoken since he sat down.

Based on the looks he was receiving, Jason guessed that they were waiting for him to elaborate. His fami— fellow Gotham vigilantes especially looked confused; Tim even looked slightly offended. Jason couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"You said there are no active churches in Gotham, which isn't true. We actually have not one, not two, but three churches in Gotham." Tim looked to Dick for confirmation, who just shrugged. And while the rest of the room couldn't pick up on it, Jason saw that even Bruce had doubt in Jason's claim (not like that's new). Sighing, he continued.

"There is the old Lutheran church on Orchid Lane. St. Mary's is on 115th. Then John the Baptist on 8th and Garrett." He sipped his coffee as he and the rest of the room watched the Gotham heroes take in the information. Bruce, as usual, remained his stoic self. Dick looked heavenwards as if trying to picture the city in his head but then was drawn to Tim's side as the younger pulled up a city map on his laptop. Tim suddenly shook his head and turned to Jason.

"Nonono, John's the abandoned one so that doesn't count."

"No," Jason spoke slowly, "Holy Trinity is the abandoned church. John's is still up and running. I was there about two weeks ago." He took another sip of coffee.

"Wait, you go to church?" Hal asked before laughing slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't buy that."

Billy put his hand on the pilot's shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. But Hal pushes him away.

"No, I won't!" Hal snapped, clearly referring to whatever was whispered into his ear.

"So, you're saying," Green Lantern pointed at Hood, "that you, the guy who goes on murdering sprees just for the hell of it, go to church. Seems a little sacrilegious, don't you think?"

Bruce bit his lip as he watched his son's reaction. He remembers saying almost the exact same thing on that rooftop and apparently Jason did too because the younger man glanced towards him with venom in his gaze.

Anyone in the room could see the sudden shift in the young man. His jaw was clenched and tension radiated off of him in waves. The narrowed, fiery blue eyes resembled a thin sheet of ice covering a deep lake. Take one wrong step and you'd fall through, susceptible to the cold abyss below. Anyone in their right mind would back off. However, it appeared Hal was not in his right mind.

"First of all," Jason seethed, "I don't kill anymore. I haven't in years."

"Oh yeah that reminds me, why did you stop killing? Sudden change of heart?" Hal mocked. Jason snorted and responded with a 'hell no.' That was clearly the wrong response. Everyone watched him wide-eyed before turning to Batman.

"Hang on. Batman, you said-" Arthur began before the man himself interrupted.

"I said he stopped killing. Nothing more." Bruce shut the discussion down quickly. He could see the question in Jason's mind, but it went unasked.

"You never answered the question," Martian Manhunter observed.

"And I don't have to." Jason retorted.

"May I ask why you started?" said Raven.

Jason mulled over the thought before shaking his head. Anyone who has been in association with Jason knew why. It was a complicated mess that would only lead to more questions and a nasty trip down memory lane for the wayward Robin. Nonetheless, the other heroes complained, desperate to know the reason behind the massacres that the infamous Red Hood left in his wake.

Jason blew some air, causing the hair hanging on his forehead to move upwards and raised his hands in a somewhat surrender. "I won't tell why I started, but if I tell you why I chose to kill, will you shut the hell up? Hmm?" The others were content with this arrangement, so Jay continued. "It's actually really simple. Too many criminals were getting away with crimes or only receiving a slap on the wrist. I was sick of seeing families lose loved ones with no justice done, so by killing, I stopped criminals from doing any more damage." He sat back to observe the group of goody-two-shoes among him. Of course, half of them one hundred percent disagreed with his words and were ready to jump in to argue. However, some at least looked as if they understood, just chose a different route.

"And went around Gotham killing assholes, knowing full well what the big guy would think," Zatanna smirked.

Jason chuckled softly at that. "Aww, that's adorable. You thought I cared about that." He clarified when he saw the confusion on everyone's faces. He lost all humor in his voice and made sure Bruce was in his eye-line when he said, "Truth is, I couldn't, and might I add, still don't, give a single flying fuck about what Batman thinks."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as everyone waited for Bruce to accept the challenge, including Jason.

However, it was Superman who spoke next. "Sooooo," he drawled, "are we gonna ignore the fact that Hood knows the layout of the city better than all of the Gotham heroes. Even Batman, the guy who practically worships the city.

"It's probably because Bats and co. thought the closest church was an hour away," Oliver jested. "I mean, seriously, dude, how could an outsider know Gotham better than you?"

Jason titled his head at that. "An outsider? What do you mean?" While Jason kept from sharing details about his personal life whenever he could help it, this was one of those instances where he couldn't help himself. Mostly because he thought this was obvious information. "You know I'm from Gotham, right?"

Oliver opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with a response that didn't leave him looking like an idiot. But, based on all the incredulous looks he was receiving from everyone else, he already failed. "Well", he stammered, "I do now."

He frowned as the rest of the room chuckled at his misunderstanding. Barry, who was to his immediate right, laughed so hard that he almost fell out of the chair. Turning his attention to the speedster, Oliver grumbled, "Oh, like you knew."

Barry took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to control his laughter and after about half a minute, he managed to say, "Bro, everyone knew!" before laughing even louder and more uncontrollably. Oliver crossed his arms and slumped into his chair. Noticing her husband's amusing embarrassment, Dinah leaned down to give a kiss on his rapidly reddening cheek.

Desperate to take back some control (and dignity), Oliver waved his arm to silence the room before repeating his question about how Hood knows Gotham better than Batman, only this time not labeling the gunslinging vigilante as an outsider.

"Well." Tim responded, "seeing as Hood is the only one actually from Gotham, it would make sense how he knows the city better."

The room fell into complete silence as the information was being processed. Heros glanced at each other to confirm that they weren't alone in their confusion. Tim rubbed the back of his neck, not exactly liking how everyone was staring at him. Even Jason didn't know what to make of Tim's statement. It felt like his brain was going a hundred miles per hour then crashed right into a brick wall. The silence finally broke as people recovered from the initial confusion and gained the ability to speak once more.

"Wait… what?!"

"Hold up."

"I think we need to back up a bit."

"But didn't Batman… I thought…"

"Ha! Betcha didn't know that, Barry!"

"Once again, neither did you, Ollie!"

"I'm confused."

"Can you elaborate on that?"

"Imma little lost."

Many heroes started speaking all at once and it was only once Diana whistled, quite loudly, that the room settled. Bouncing in his seat, Barry raised his hand like a child waiting to be called on by his teacher.

"What's up, Flash?" Tim pointed to the speedster with one hand while pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. He messed up and based on the glare coming from his left, Bruce was not happy.

"SoyousaidthatRedHoodwastheonlyonefromGothambuIthoughtBatmanforsurewasfromGothamand—"

"Whoa! I can't understand a single word you're saying so go slower. Please," Tim folded his hands under his chin. Barry took a deep breath before retrying.

"What Iwas sayingwas that Ithought—"

"Slower, Flash."

"You said that the Red Hood was the only one from Gotham but isn't Batman from Gotham, too? What about the rest of you guys?" Despite speaking slower, Barry stilled bounced in his seat in anticipation. Oliver leaned forward in his seat, a smile on his face (glad the attention was no longer on him). Man, the emerald archer thought, Hood should come around more often; this is interesting. Even Damian himself began to pay attention since he too believed all of them, except Dick and himself, were from Gotham.

"I don't know what he is talking about," Bruce stepped forward, "because I'm from Gotham."

But Tim was already shaking his head in disagreement. "Technically, you live on the outskirts of the city."

"But that's still Gotham," Bruce countered.

"Well does that really count as Gotham because you grew up in the sheltered coziness of the manor? And I'm the same, so don't give me any crap about this later." He pointed at the black-clad hero, who narrowed his eyes in return. Fortunately for Tim, Bruce's attention was drawn away from him and to Jason, who laughed behind his coffee cup. Still, Tim swallowed before gesturing to Dick and Damian. "And they aren't from even from this country, so they're out of the running. And lastly," he nodded towards Jason, "he grew up in the actual city itself, so technically Ja–er, Hood is the only one who is a true Gothamite. I rest my case." Tim kept his eyes away from his older brother, knowing it was impossible for the latter to miss the close slipup.

"Well, this has been entertaining," Batman spoke with a tone that betrayed his previous statement, "but shouldn't we move on to more pressing matters."

The room almost immediately sobered up and they went around the room discussing ideas, none of which would work. Jason watched in curiosity and amusement. How the hell did these people get anything done? His mirth didn't go unnoticed, however, because once again, Hal drew attention to him.

"Alrighty hotshot," he snarked, "whatcha got?"

Oh, he had something, alright.

AN: Sorry about the ending, but I'm hoping to give the plan and the battle their individual chapters, so that's why I ended it there.

Anyways, we finally got the fallout between Bruce and Jason! I didn't intend for it to go that way when I started to write it but that's just what kinda happened the more I wrote. So whatcha guys think?

Sorry if you thought this was way too OOC for some characters, but this was just me having fun.

Please review!

(apologies for mistakes)

Happy Holidays Folks!