Seriously, fuck Arkham and every tile and speck of dust therein. Fuck the family it was named after too.

"We've already seen you, come…"

"Yeah, I know, I know." Jason his half mask back into place and crunched down on the skittles in his mouth, or tried to, there was more, squishing between his teeth than crunching where skittles were involved. He stuck his hands in the pockets at his thighs as he came out from under the stairway, spinning a gun in his raised hand and ignoring the rush of his increased heart rate. "I've been found out, bested by your superior intelligence, oh my goodness however shall I get myself out of this crummy conundrum."

The fucktards pointing their guns at him from the walkways weren't very impressed with that, Jason heard an oddly familiar 'oh my god' somewhere in there, but none of them took advantage of the seconds since he'd emerged to shoot him. Good, good, not being shot at was always a good thing. A couple of them shifted and Jason would have thought they seemed confused. That not so good. If they hadn't shot yet, there was a bigger reason than Jason's running mouth. Best not to give them a reason to get over that reason.

"Oh wait." With a gasp, Jason pulled his left hand out of his pocket, bringing the same trigger stupidly obvious trigger he'd used against the bats in that alley not too long ago. His thumb pressed down on the shiny red button. And there was the reaction, the sliding clicks of safety's being switched off, some footsteps rushing towards him. If there were any more of them, he's probably feel their eyes burning the hand he had wrapped around the trigger. "Dead man's switch. Any of you brain donors take a shot or contact the freak in the hood, I take my finger off the button and you're all dead."

Worked with the bats, and Jason highly doubted anyone willing to work for that copycat was smarter than they were. For a few heartbeats, there was no response, nothing aside from a handful of the 'hostages' near him trying to back away. Then some wise guy moved to try and shoot him. Jason's handgun was in his hand before he'd really thought about it, before he saw one of the other guys moving in to stop the other from taking the shot, two bangs echoed way too loudly in the large, space and wise guy no longer had knee caps.

Then there was the screaming and the scuttling away from him Jason had expected, but also some weird staring he really hadn't. He had a fake trigger and some bullets he couldn't use to kill anyone. Stalling was his best bet. Stalling like Stephanie was stalling, like she couldn't be any more if these bastards contacted their boss about an intruder, when she got out, then he'd figure out what the fuck he was going to do about himself, until then… stalling.

"You wouldn't!" Someone yelled over wise guy's screaming. "You'd be dea…"

"Body armor dipshit." Jason patted his chest and very obviously telegraphed rolling his eyes so they could see it despite the goggles. "Any other questions? And if one of them is a variation of, 'Why would we listen to you.'" He said the last part in a higher pitch as he wiggled the trigger. "I will gladly release future generations of this planet from having to suffer your genes." Jason's tongue moved candy around his very dry mouth again in the pause he gave them to make their objections known. Good, now to see how far he could push things before they broke down around him."Nothing? Good, now…"

"The hell you think you are?" It wasn't shouted, not quite, but the interruption stunned Jason for just a moment where he expected again to be turned into a human approximation of Swiss cheese. "Think anyone here's gonna give a crap about you with the Red Hood's down the hall?"

The Swiss cheese approximation did not occur and the short silence from Jason appeared to unnerve more than incite them.

"Pissed off and not in the mood for bullshit from the dumbasses stupid enough to not only believe that village idiot's the real thing 's who I am. Fricker sticker can't shoot for shit and walks like he's got a golf club up his ass but sure, add a foot to him and he's a dead ringer for the Hood, huh?" Jason was bitter, so sue him. Someone had to masquerade as him, very least they could do was make an effort. He hated idea that everything he'd done could be claimed by some nobody who'd gotten their hands on a mask. Sure, he wasn't proud of all of them, but they were still things he'd done, him and not the mask he'd been wearing when he'd done them. He'd had quite enough of his being replaced and having his life rewritten already.

"Sweet Jesus." One of those who'd just been staring blurted out touched his fingers to his head and shoulders in a cross, as though to ward off something evil, the others were whispering between themselves. A couple of the potential shooters looked just that much more willing to tack off the potential there. Those, Jason eyed, kept his arm loose so he could take them out before they got a shot in, maybe the unconscious sack that had tried to shoot him earlier and the trigger in his hand would be enough of a deterrent, maybe not. He'd have to be ready either way, and he predicted he had thirty seconds tops to figure out how to do that.

There was a stash of sedative laden smoke bombs in one of the pockets at his left thigh. To use them effectively, he'd need to gather everyone up together, he could take them all out, but if he did and regular check ins were part of this security detail, the plan was fucked up. He'd have to get out right after, get to Stephanie before that happened and drag her out. Hard enough when he didn't know exactly where she was or how to get from here to there. Then there was still convincing her to go along with it when the Bats hadn't given the all clear on the other hostages throughout the city.

Either way, it was a crapfest.

Jason was wracking his brain for another plan when one of the indistinguishable whispers sounded distinctly like a 'suppose to be dead.' He snapped his head – and his gun – in the direction of that one.

"Got something to share with the class there?" Jason bit the words out, cocking his head to the side.

"You're… He said you were dead." The guy's voice was shaking, standing with his arms, his gun, at his sides, staring at Jason in much the same way as Bruce had the night Jason had first taken off his helmet in Bruce's presence with the intensity divided by like, three hundred but still.

After that, a look at the rest of them proved that many had taken on a similar posture.

What the fuck?

O

O

O

"Kay Jeff, listen, I get you're mad okay." The bindings around Steph's right hand were proving a tiny bit tougher to break through than her left, but she was fairly sure she could get her legs out without too much trouble. Not that either of those things meant a damn if she wasn't given the all clear before the former Arkham guard pumped her full of the proto-frenzy they'd used on Jason. "But there's a whole lot you don't get about this."

"I know what happened, I saw what happened, you won't lie to me like you did to him, to make him trust you." He was busy setting up a camera on a tripod. "So he'd be weak enough for you to get rid of him."

Steph took a moment to wonder if it had really been Talia who'd had the tapes up in Arkham burned, if everything that had happened after Jason had left Arkham had really been her. Some of it was, obviously, there was no denying that she'd been the one to kill Jason's old therapists, but a lot of the other Arkham staff. It had seemed weird from the start, how quickly everyone who'd known about Jason had been killed, too fast for Talia's careful way of operation. It was just a hunch and one Steph had no way of knowing how much, if any truth there was in it, but she had to wonder. And then, they'd never caught the guy who'd gotten to Jeremiah Arkham in hospital.

"Okay, no." Steph wanted to lick her lips, she wanted to so badly, but she wasn't sure how signs that she was nervous would come off. "He wasn't gotten rid of, he's fine and if you let me up, and you let those people go I'll call him right up for you, okay?"

Baker snorted and wiped his gloved thumb over the lens of the camera in a circular motion, as if there was any blood to wipe off. "S, so desperate. If he were okay he would have show up again, he wouldn't have let those things stay on the streets." He stilled, and when he turned to look at Steph again, there were deep creases in his forehead. "You know, I almost thought he was back once, we could have looked for him together, but the, we could have looked for him together, but then you, you," And then she'd called him a half assed rip off. He stalked over to the bed, hovered over her as if he were a demented balloon. "If you'd actually cared about your brother, you would have helped."

"You think he would have turned up again, and okay, that part is…" Steph shrugged her shoulders as much as she could in her current position. "I was kinda expecting it too, and he did come back, just not how you wanted him too, cause you really don't know what's going on here." Steph watched his face closely for signs she was pushing him over his rage threshold, cause that would have been, like, really bad for her right then. "Case in point he's not my brother, I just…"

"I told you to stop lying if that were true he wouldn't have let you near him." His hands were clenching at his sides, but he hadn't moved for the drug.

"Why would I lie about something that would make you go easier on me?" Steph's eyes flickered too the monitors again, where that one guy had keeled over yet again. Baker's nose screwed up a little, his eyes flickering from side to side, he didn't say anything, so Steph did. "I just told you guys that so you'd let me in, that was actually the first time I met him. You wanna say you care about him, and you honestly believe he woulda attacked someone for daring to talk to him?" Later, Steph would be amused by the irony of family type people being the ones he might attack for talking to him. "C'mon, really? Do we even look alike?"

Granted, orange hair, pale, scruffy, huge and then too thin, Jason had looked quite a bit different in Arkham than had after, and Baker had never seen Steph without the mask. But Jason had never had even a superficial resemblance to her even then.

"He would have come back." Baker insisted, growling near her face, his deodorant had a really strong smell, not bad but artificial and he just wore too much of it.

"He did." Steph had literally said that already, she didn't roll her eyes, rolling eyes at guy's with needles when you were strapped down was never a good idea, and Steph couldn't get out of those straps just then, so all eyes rolling would have to be saved for a later date.

Baker had no such reservations, he shook his head at her and plucked up a vial of bright red and pushed a needle past it'd rubber barrier. Steph let her body language slip and flinched back when he came nearer, she gave herself a second to snatch a look at the monitors behind Baker's head.

"Don't worry." He said, almost gently, resting his hand and the syringe on the rails of the bed, the needle close enough that if Steph moved her head, it would poke at her cheek, oh crap. Steph's head was assaulted by images from the clips she'd seen, of Jason strapped to this bed, with that drug flowing through his veins, screaming. "I know he wouldn't have wanted me to kill you, he'd be so angry. Are you r,ready."

'Please hurry, please hurry.' On the monitors, a guy keeled over again. Then he was gone. The static shifted and the room holding them was empty as Steph's fridge.

"Oh thank god." Steph breathed out, along with all the burning tension that had been clogging up her lungs, she sagged against the bed and shut her eyes for a couple seconds. When she opened them, Baker was still hovering above her, needle at the ready and his head cocked aside in confusion. Steph grinned. "Well there's one thing you're right about." Steph twisted her arm again, letting the blades on her gauntlet saw through more of the leather binding her to the bed. "The real Hood's gonna be pissed. Lucky you I'll get to ya before he does."

"What?" He growled out.

Steph let her grin spread wider as she turned her head jerked her head at the screens. Baker turned, slowly at first, then all at once, when he noticed his lack of hostages. The bats would have gotten the rest out by now too. He had no leverage.

With an enraged shout, Baker spun back to Stephanie. She yanked her hand free of it's bonds and grabbed hold of the man's wrist before he could pierce her with the needle, she yanked it forward and buried it in the fabric besides her head instead, then twisted roughly to break it off. He jerked back to get out of her hold and got a heavy combat boot to the chest. Getting the rest of herself free was the work of a couple seconds for Steph, not enough time for him to right himself for any kind of retaliatory attack.

Then she was on him again, a fistful of his stolen jacket bunched up in her hand, she reveled in the stretched when she pulled back her arm and crashed her armored knuckles into his face hard enough to knock him from her grasp. The camera and tripod were both knocked to the filthy ground, crushed under the weight of his body.

"Something else you don't know about the bats." Steph twisted her arm and displayed the blades that most dismissed as a decorative element of the suit, it would have been cooler if they'd glinted in the dull lighting, but matte equipment was better for tactics. "You gotta always be prepared for the fact that we're always gonna be more prepared than you are."

Baker got to his feet and scrambled back from her, he pulled something out of his pocket and without a gloating word, clicked down on the end of the trigger. Steph paused in her pursuit of him when the monitors all turned to displaying the pipes running along the length and breadth of the underground tunnels beneath the asylum. She didn't have to wonder long what exactly was going on there before a low hissing answered that question for her and the nozzles she'd noticed along the walls began spitting out red clouds.

"Goodbye Batgirl."

Uh Oh.

O

O

O

Jason had been supervising the loading of the last dozen or so hostages through the tunnels, up and out of the imposters little hidey hole when the gas had gone off. "Get a move on!" He ordered and stowed away his gun, he turned to run in the opposite direction without waiting for the litany of. "Got it Boss," or, "Yes Boss," that followed.

If those idiots had any idea what Jason had actually done to the bastards with the misfortune of calling him that before, he had a feeling they would have been a lot less co-operative. But then, far as he could tell, the dumbasses the imposter had recruited for himself weren't the kind – heavy dealers, predator's, major scumbags – that Jason would have roped in on his own either, so what the hell.

He didn't want to think too hard about it. No harder than he wanted to think about the tunnels he was now sprinting through, relying on his tech to provide his with every measure of stealth he'd tossed into the metaphorical engine in exchange for more speed.

Hostages were free – well, free-ish at least – hired help either neutralized or er, converted, and the ringleader had already played his trump card. There was nothing to be gained by stealth now, nothing at all.

Then why were Jason's legs so still, the muscles rebelling against his will and trying to slow his progress in spite of the urgency he could feel thrumming through his bones.

He remembered being wheeled down here, the little fits and starts of wakefulness during the trip when he'd tried to grab hold of each and every little detail that might have aided in his eventual escape. An escape he'd been so sure would come before any real damage had been done to him, easier than escaping from the main building by far.

Being picked for Arkham's psycho experiments hadn't been on the agenda, but he'd been sure he'd get himself out of it like he'd gotten himself out of everything else life had tossed his way. If not for Stephanie…

And now she was there wasn't she, in that room, with another bastard who had needles and poison and more gall than fucking brains. Trying to save a handful of gutter rats who didn't deserve even the consideration.

If she was strapped down like he had been, screaming and seeing things and alone. He wouldn't allow it, couldn't allow it. Jason felt his lungs seizing up, green flooding over his vision if thick tendrils that overpowered the traces of fear he'd let creep in. When he got his hands on that impostor he was going to rip it's head of and feed it to croc, watch it's body get torn to shreds and…

Jason reached the hallway he'd watched from the bed he'd been strapped to, the two men guarding the end of it went down without ceremony, then he flung himself through the entrance way and into the room that room and…"

"Nevermind he's here." Her voice, accompanied by the frantic clacking of keys as she stood, silhouetted before the huge monitors displaying an empty labyrinth that was quickly being filled with red smoke. Her face was covered by the combination of her mask and rebreather, and Jason had to stomp down on the green to keep it from prompting him to rip them off and see if it was really her. "Tryna get Oracle into the system to shut this thing down, Asshat Hood ran down thataway." She cocked her head at a side passage, but didn't remove her bright eyes from her work.

He stalled, looking between her and the passage, he didn't want to leave, it was dangerous and there was smoke and of he left her alone down here then she'd be just like he…

"Jay, go!" She urged and the typing became still more frantic.

"Yeah, right." Jason started in the direction of the passage, but paused again before he reached it, there was something he felt he was supposed to say, or to do, one of his arms raised itself from his side unbidden to reach for her. With a shake of his head that had the added benefit of dislodging whole swaths of the green, Jason dropped the limb. "Right." He took off for the passage and pushed down the remembrance of the time he'd spent in it. Now wasn't the time.

The smoke got thicker still with second that passed, with every step he took down the passage, his mask protected him from inhaling any of it, but he was having a hard time seeing three feet in front of him through the swirling mass of red. It's barely a dozen meters in when he noticed them.

Dressed in torn, filthy clothes, they reeked of unwashed bodies and excrement, like they'd been left lying there for months and months in their own filth. They groaned, and when the smoke got thicker their groans got louder, stronger.

Jason paid them no mind, wrote them off as more frenzy test subjects buried too deeply in withdrawal to pose any kind of a threat. Then the groaning turned to twitching, and jerking, and standing, and, lunging at him.

He'd wasted enough time already without having to get past a wall of crazed, drugged up junkies too. He dodged under a swipe and instinctively slid his guns into his hands, ready to send them all to an unceremonious mass grave before he remembered that some of them, hell maybe even most of them hadn't been brought their by choice. He traded the guns for his knife and his fist as they set upon him, trying to push him back by the sheer force of all of them throwing their weight on him at once.

If Jason couldn't feed the bastard to Killer Croc he was sure as hell giving that little poser the beat down of a lifetime when he caught up to him.