A/N: How refreshing it is to finally post another chapter after so long. I've had to make a lot of revisions in how I wanted to set up the pacing of this story, as I don't want it to drag, which resulted in a very long chapter. I did promise a decent sized chapter for you guys, after all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing this section. Please let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
"Hey! Who do you think you are? Part of the police or something?"
Irritation filled the Red Hood at the sound of the voice, clearly trying to act tough in the face of confrontation. His gun was at the criminal's head instantly as he pushed him into the wall, knowing the weapon would be enough of a threat to keep him still. From behind the helmet, Jason rolled his eyes, the aggravation seeping into his tone of voice. "Am I dressed like a pushover cop?"
The man's eyes were wide with fear, the cotton mask he'd been using during the robbery now clenched in his shaking hands. While the rest of his buddies had scattered, Jason had caught this one by surprise and cornered him. Whatever crime that Nightwing had managed to keep at bay was surging in his absence, and so Jason took it upon himself handle the misdeeds. That, and he had been cooped up in the hideout for so long that he felt the need to stretch his legs. While training in the shelter was helpful, it wasn't anything like the real action.
He pressed the barrel of the pistol to the crook's head, his voice like steel, "I'll ask you once, and only once. What was the point in robbing the bank when you're already sitting on a pile of loot?"
Panic rose in the thug's face, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if that would make the dangerous, and potentially crazy, man in front of him disappear. "I-it's a trade! A trade! The boss doesn't want to switch hands, so he thought he could please her by-"
"Her? Since when does the drug trade involve women around here?"
"I-I don't know-I just-she's-he's…" The man stuttered, shaking underneath Jason's iron grip, pushing himself back into the wall as if he could melt into it and get away. The sight was rather pathetic, all dignity gone. Jason had no doubt in his mind why the gang had made him a runner, and it was not surprising that he was the one Jason had been able to nab. Gangs really seemed to be lacking in talented members nowadays.
"Oh, for God-" Jason began, ready to shake the answers out of the man if he didn't start giving up useful intel within the next five seconds.
"Hood."
Jason gave a sideways glance to the owner of the voice at his right. Tim stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, an ever-present frown on his face. Despite the red domino mask that Jason had supplied him, he still looked grim. Jason could imagine why: his kind of patrolling was not like Batman's routine, nor were his tactics the same. But the boy had gotten better throughout their training sessions, becoming more and more like the fighter he locked away except when he grew desperate to win. When Jason allowed him to come along, he hadn't thought that Tim would accept the invite.
Once he did, he had expected there to be resistance on Tim's part as soon as he realized the kind of persona the Red Hood really was: unsympathetic and here to get the job done. But Tim said nothing more, just watched the scene unfolding in front of him with only Jason's field name hanging between them. It wasn't so much a warning as Tim's way of asking him to consider what he was doing. The teen hadn't yet caught on that Jason knew exactly how to handle this, and that he'd done it plenty of times before the two had met.
Red Hood sighed heavily, and then without missing a beat knocked the handle of the pistol into the side of the crook's head. He crumpled unconscious to the ground, and Jason stepped leisurely over his body. "Something tells me he wasn't meant for this type of business."
"He wouldn't know anything about what you're looking for," Tim said, falling into step beside Jason as they walked down the alley. He looked far from the Robin that he usually was in the field. The suit itself was rather tattered and ruined, and it wasn't like he could wear that out in public when he was in hiding. Jason wasn't about to let him run around in one of the most dangerous cities in regular clothes, either. He'd managed to fit the teenager into a shirt similar to his with plenty of protection built into it, kevlar and all. Tim wore dark jeans, boots (ones that fit him properly) and the jacket that Jason had also provided for him. The domino mask matched the one Jason occasionally wore under his helmet, though Jason was not matching him tonight.
"I probably just did him a favor," Jason said, clambering onto the nearby fire escape and making his way up it quickly. "Now when he wakes up he has plenty of time to get out of Bludhaven before his boss finds him."
Tim mumbled something under his breath, but didn't elaborate. Jason heard him following, climbing just fast enough to keep up. He was right on Jason's heels as the young man hoisted himself onto the roof, rolling out his shoulders as he made his way across. "You might want to head back. Things might get a little too messy for your tastes."
"If you're going to try and bust this deal, I'm going too," Tim said firmly, striding past Jason to look over the edge of the roof. He seemed to be taking in all of his surroundings, coming up with some plan that Jason had yet to discover.
"It won't be much of 'trying' as it will getting rid of the problem," Jason clarified, resting his foot on the ledge. "Just cause I'm training you doesn't mean I'll stop doing things my way."
Tim's lips formed a line, but he didn't relent. "Can you keep it to a minimum?"
"I'm not going to shoot anyone who doesn't deserve it," Jason answered. "Unlike what you may think, I'm not looking to drench the streets. Have a little faith in me."
"I'm doing my best," Tim answered, further taking Jason off guard. The teen was so complacent about everything, willing to go along with what the young man wanted despite their extreme differences in viewpoints. It didn't make much sense, and Jason wondered not for the first time if Tim had developed his own agenda. Maybe he was waiting to take Jason down when he least expected it. Perhaps that was his goal for agreeing to come with him in the first place.
One glance at Tim told him that whatever was going on in that bright head of his, it wasn't what Jason's more paranoid side suggested. Tim gazed back at him, looking only half as disturbed as Jason expected. The rest of his thoughts were masked behind a cool exterior, his posture not quite relaxed but not tense either. He was waiting, as always, for Jason to make a move.
"Keep it up," Jason said after a brief pause. There was a level of trust between them that they had ever so slowly built, and since finding out Jason's identity Tim had been letting that rise. There seemed to be an understanding in the teen that out of the two of them, the Red Hood had far more expertise. In the field, he was going to have to trust Jason's judgment. "We don't have time to start questioning one another."
Standing around and letting another analytical pause happen wasn't on Jason's to-do list. He turned to face the ledge and leapt off the roof, and the teen followed suit.
In all honesty, he hadn't expected Tim to let him do it.
Tim had not protested further when they descended into the gathering, the tables covered in the stolen jewelry and cases of various drugs. There had been only a few moments of shock from the gang members, and once they realized it was not Nightwing who had caught them but someone else they registered the new threat, and gave everything they had. What the criminals had to throw their way wasn't much; dodging the bullets and knives wasn't that hard of a feat. The gang was fierce, Jason would give them that, having a few encounters that were entirely too close for his comfort.
The glimpses that he got of Tim fighting were enough to tell Jason that the training had been paying off. Tim was as determined to excel as he claimed, and that resulted in him being faster, more agile, and hitting harder than ever before. It made Jason wish he had the opportunity to really observe the teenager, but he was a little more occupied with finding the ringleader. Whether this whole robbery was really over a woman or not he didn't care, he just knew who to seek out and deal with. Indeed he did find the culprit, the man stumbling and attempting to close himself into a hidden room. Jason merely kicked the door down and entered, and finished the job with a single bullet. While he was courteous enough to not deal the killing blow in front of Tim, he was certain the teen heard the gunshot.
By the time he'd exited the place of the leader's execution, he found Tim amidst the unconscious, though clearly breathing, bodies of the rest of the gang members. Tim had said nothing, just met Jason's gaze through his mask, his dark hair tousled from the fight. Jason had simply nodded in the direction of the exit, sending a call to the police, and left the scene as simply as he had entered.
Now he strode across the rooftop, the teen following wordlessly behind him. Jason tried to ignore the silence between them that, in his mind, was growing more and more uncomfortable every moment that passed. It wasn't that Tim was aggravating him, but the fact that he was so quiet after the whole thing threw the Red Hood off entirely. Every reaction that Tim had towards Jason's choices was completely opposite than what he expected, and he just didn't understand it. So when he suddenly halted in his step and turned to face Tim, he was only partially surprised to see the teen look from the ground to meet his gaze, the thoughtful frown present on his features.
"What are you upset with now?" Jason resisted rolling his eyes under the helmet. This was the first time he found himself to be unbelievably frustrated with the teen, and if he had to be honest he wasn't sure how to deal with such a feeling other than to be on the defensive.
"You killed him so easily," Tim said, as though thinking aloud. He blinked, realizing that he was initiating in a conversation with someone other than the voice in his head. "Just like that and it was over."
The teen's response rang true to what Jason believed troubled the hero, but he only shrugged at his thoughts. "Tell Nightwing to get his city's drug cartel under control and I wouldn't have to step in."
Tim, however, wasn't satisfied with that. His features clouded with confusion and uncertainty, his eyebrows narrowed with the same troubled expression reflecting in his masked eyes. "It's just-you died, Jason. Why would you want to put someone else through that?"
"Did I deserve to die?" The question fell from Jason's mouth sharp and quick, with barely a pause between Tim's words and his own.
"No," Tim started, and then gave a small sigh, "you were just a kid caught in the crossfire."
"Or maybe I was punished for trying to do the right thing," Jason suggested, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. When he thought of the role he played in his own death, it was never quite clear. He knew some people would blame him, he always had been fierce after all, but he didn't think it was his fault that he died. He didn't think it was Bruce's fault either. In the end, neither of them were completely responsible, at least in Jason's opinion.
"It shouldn't have happened," Tim said quietly. It was hard to tell where the boy was looking, but Jason was almost certain it wasn't directly at himself. "No one deserves what you went through."
"Got that right," Jason said with a scoff, shaking his head. He started to walk forwards, and then turned back to Tim as a second wave of thoughts overtook him, and he found it impossible to hold them back. "You think I like killing? I don't. But if you hurt kids, if you hurt women, if you take advantage of other people's suffering and kicking them into the dirt, I can't stand by and let that continue. At least if they're dead, they can't hurt anyone ever again."
"They could go to jail," Tim suggested, but didn't bother to push the option.
"You clearly don't know much about the justice system if that's your solution," Jason answered. "It doesn't guarantee anything. People walk out without paying the price all the time. Putting down the ones who are only out to hurt others is the only way to ensure safety for the innocent."
"I guess that's why you and Batman won't get along," Tim said, as if verbally putting the pieces together. "You see justice entirely different."
"You mean I'll do everything that Batman won't," Jason clarified. "You're right. It gets the job done, and that's all I worry about."
"Not exactly," Tim answered. "You obviously worry about dying if you try so hard to survive."
He did, of course. How could he make a difference in the world if he was dead? The list of goals he had to accomplish was ever growing, and he couldn't complete them if he was in the ground. He ought to make use of his second chance if Talia saw it fit to bring him back to this world. But the way Tim said it implied that he was afraid of dying, afraid of the breath and life leaving his being once more. To that, he had to attest otherwise, and turned so that he was fully facing the teen, "Let me tell you something, Tim. Dying is easy. But coming back from it? That's the part they don't tell you about. They make you fear death happening because no one expects what comes next. No one ever intends to rise."
He shook his head, trying to push away the dark feeling of dread rising in the back of his mind, "It wasn't my choice to come back to the land of the living. No one thought to get my approval first."
Tim tilted his head to the side slightly, wonder in his expression, albeit with a tinge of hesitance. "If it had been up to you, would you have wanted to come back?"
"Depends," Jason answered. "If it was right after everything went down, then yeah, I would have been okay with that."
Then he could have fallen right back into being Robin. He could have strode up to Wayne Manor and cracked some stupid joke to Alfred, walked through the doors to see Bruce standing there. He might have been able to talk some sense into his old mentor, he might have been able to see what Tim claimed Batman had turned into after his death.
All Jason could see though, was when he first discovered the Joker was alive. He still remembered seeing another boy wearing red and green at Batman's side, swinging above Gotham as the city's guardians. The image nearly shattered his soul again, and the echos of raw pain and hot, flowing tears almost overtook him. Jason's voice softened, the only way he could keep the agony from bleeding into his tone."But if I had known what changed in my absence? I think I would have chosen to stay dead."
He glanced down to where a bunch of drunks were wandering out of a bar, a group of men staggering after a woman, who was none the wiser. Jason leaned over the edge to watch them, already knowing where this was going. In mere minutes they would catch up to the woman and corner her, and then she'd be helpless to the drunkards who would mug her, or worse. The conversation between the two boys evaporated, and Jason looked back to Tim, "You're up."
Tim looked at him a moment, as if debating on saying anything more. Whatever went through his mind didn't reach his mouth, and he turned his back and leapt from the building, trailing after the men. Jason walked to the other side of the roof, taking a deep breath as he watched Tim descend upon the assaulters. The teen had gotten faster, stronger, and each time he moved he expressed even more passion than Jason had ever observed. He placed one leg on the ledge and leaned forwards, resting his arms on his propped up knee, and watched his teachings play out before him.
The cold night air wasn't what sent a chill down Batman's spine.
He'd been on many missions where he'd had to resist shuddering at a horrible sight or swallow down anything that disturbed him greatly. It was part of being Gotham's protector that he put up a resilient front, that way he didn't fall to pieces like normal people would in disastrous situations. Repressing his feelings kept him focused, it kept him going and alert. But now, rushing through the shadows at Gotham's docks, he found that the shiver was one of anxiety, his blood pounding at the thought of getting one step closer to Tim.
Nightwing appeared at his side, dropping down to move beside him through the shadows. Batman had sent the other hero ahead of him in order to scope out any potential disturbances, which had come up negative. It made him wonder if there was something missing; it seemed odd that there hadn't been any activity lately, but he continued on despite the feeling. The data remained at his disposal; back at the cave he had ran identification and tracking numbers, plus the locations of each cargo box. The conclusions made it easy to find the extras, so it did not surprise him to find the large container set back away from the rest, and unguarded.
Batman approached the cargo with restraint, Nightwing giving him a glance as he moved almost in step with his old mentor. Part of him wanted to kick the door down and get whatever lay beyond done, that way he could be on track to finding Tim. But the other calculating, logical side of him knew he needed patience if he was to do this right. There was no time to do it wrong, either. If they messed up now, there could be no recovering from the damage.
Even though Nightwing stood beside him with as much readiness to act in his stance, Batman knew him well enough to sense the impatience within him. The hero turned his head slightly and gave the Bat a sideways look, his masked eyes impossible to read if not for how well Batman could interpret his body language. He was prepared for whatever the cargo showed them, and felt just as anxious at himself, even though Batman was much better at concealing such worries. He didn't want to wait that much longer, either. Batman gave him a nod and the two moved forwards, breaking off the side of the crate that was taller than the their own heights combined. The moonlight shown inside, where hundreds of smaller boxes resided. Batman walked in carefully, then moved to the nearest box and opened it. Inside were vials of liquid, colored a sickening green.
Nightwing reached into another box and held one up to the light, his masked eyes narrowing. "So this is why Joker was at the docks that night. All of this for a toxin? How could the he have gotten his hands on something like this without us knowing?"
"Or how much of it," Batman said. "He came for this shipment, but must have gotten sidetracked when Robin stumbled onto the scene. Then after the explosion he never had the chance to come back for it."
"So he was planning on unleashing these toxins or something. Then Tim got caught in the middle." Nightwing turned fully to the Bat, setting the vial back in the box. "That all adds up, but how could they both have disappeared without a trace?"
"Isn't that a good question, Bird Boy?"
Both Batman and Nightwing spun around, Batman nearly shattering the vial in his grasp. Standing in the entryway was the Joker, grinning manically at the sight of the Bat clan trapped in his web. Out from behind the boxes jumped his henchmen, guns drawn. Even from behind the villain his goons approached, bearing weapons at the ready.
"Look at this! It's like one big family reunion," Joker cackled as he outstretched his arms, the moonlight bleaching his pale skin even further. He pretended to count, pointing at both vigilantes and himself, and then a few of the henchmen around him before he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Though I do believe we're missing someone."
"What have you done with Robin?" Batman barely kept himself from dashing towards the madman and taking him down. If not for the guns pointed at him from every direction, it probably would have happened. Though Batman wasn't all that concerned with anyone the Joker employed, any sudden movements at the moment could be detrimental to him learning the whereabouts of his partner.
Joker lit up like he just remembered a very important detail, snapping his fingers at the mention of the bird. "Ah, that's the one! Can't say I've seen him around, though. Not since the night we played our little game."
"What did you do?" Nightwing's voice was dangerously low, his anger rolling off of him in waves. It resonated with Batman, who had to do his best to choke down his own strong emotions. He had to think straight, to focus on getting as much information as possible, even if that meant playing mind games with the Joker.
"Oh, Bird Boy, I'm sorry you weren't invited. We had such a good time, reminiscing the past and all." Joker's expression then turned to one of disgust, and he rolled his eyes at the next sentence he spoke, "At least until we had a very rude, uninvited visitor. He just had to barge in when it was getting good."
Batman tried to conceal his eagerness at Joker's comment, an eagerness laced with cold in his veins and a tendril of fear winding around his heart. "Visitor? Who?"
"Couldn't say, though he did remind me of myself back in the day," Joker said, holding up his arms in a shrug. "I guess it's just okay to recycle old ideas nowadays. A little bit of credit would be nice."
"Looks like we have our answer," Nightwing muttered, his fingers twitching as they hovered near his escrima sticks. "Sounds like we've got ourselves a new villain. Just what this city needs, another lunatic."
"Oh come now, be a little nicer," Joker said, waving his finger with a frown. "None of you boys ever have any respect."
"If he wasn't working for you, how would he have known your whereabouts? Why would he have bothered with either of you?" Batman knew he was fishing for answers that this enemy couldn't provide. But he had to sort through it aloud, had to get everything in line as his investigation took a whole different turn. Somehow this culprit had a connection to the Joker, and possibly Robin. How could those two be the link to a rising villain?
"Now really, Bats, do I seem like the type of person to ask for help?" Joker shook his head, and then tapped on his forehead, "I have to protect this creative genius. Whoever has your little birdy, though, looked pretty angry."
The Joker grinned, too red lips splitting apart to show a ferocious smile, the kind that Batman couldn't help but feel crawl under his skin. "Angry enough to kill, and finish the job I started."
He knew he shouldn't have let it happen. Batman usually could have contained himself from reacting to the Joker's taunts, could have kept his emotions from rising. But this was the monster that had taken one son from him already. This was the one responsible for his current partner's disappearance, leaving him trapped in the hands of some unknown enemy. Because of him, the unimaginable was happening all over again.
It would not happen again.
The small pellets were in his hands in moments and he threw them down, casting a smokescreen that expanded to fill the entire cargo space. Nightwing drew his weapons and dove in, attacking the henchmen that were taken off guard by the attack. Batman launched himself into the fight, staying under the protection of the stacks of crates and then going on the offensive, knocking one thug out after the other. Bullets flew by, grazing his suit, his cape, shattering the vials of toxins. Their fumes were concerning, and Batman knew that he couldn't afford to be affected by them during this fight.
He rushed to the entryway, Nightwing seeing him through the smoke and following after him in an understanding formed only from years of experience. Glass crunched under their feet, and the two of them leapt from the fast fading smoke into the night. Together the two of them shoved the door shut, trapping the remaining henchmen inside. The amount of vials that had spilled wouldn't be enough to cause them tremendous damage, mentally or physically, and Batman had enough antidote on him if they were that badly affected if the case turned out differently than he expected. Outside, however, the henchmen were advancing upon them without giving them a moment to catch their breath.
From the middle of the shipyard, the Joker cackled hysterically, "When are you going to learn, Bats? You can't beat me, so you may as well be me!"
Nightwing darted, jumping over the henchmen in his way and reaching for the Joker, fists flying and kicks all aimed to injure and subdue. The Joker continued laughing, dodging the hits until Nightwing finally landed a hard one right to his jaw, and the monster of a man stumbled backwards into another cargo shipment, rubbing at his jaw. Nightwing went to advance to him again, but a barrage of bullets rained down and forced him to double back.
Batman fought harder, faster, throwing goon after goon to the side. He didn't care about the shipment, he didn't fully care about the possible threat to his city, either. All he could think about was Robin, waiting for him, needing his help. This lunatic maybe wasn't the key to finding him, but he had to lock him up, had to stop him from putting any more harm to his family while he continued the search. The Bat sent a hard punch to another thug's face, feeling the crunch of bone underneath his fist. The Joker was in his sights, grinning widely, even as his thugs all fell defeated around him. Batman sent one last crushing hit to the final goon left standing around him, then spun around and set his sights on the mad man.
His eyes barely caught the flicker of a shadow darting across the top of the cargo shipment.
The thugs who stood as armed guards suddenly dropped their guns, their bodies twisting in pain. They each howled with agony and then collapsed, bodies sprawled on top of the shipment. Batman caught the sight of blade protruding from their backs and necks, blood staining their dark clothing. The shadow moved quickly, almost a blur as it dropped out of the air, a gleaming blade in its hands. Joker turned, but barely had the time to react as the shadow slammed the hilt of the blade into his skull. The mad man fell, crumbling into an unconscious heap on the ground, his wicked laugh silenced.
Batman froze in his step, his eyes staring intensely at the Joker. For a moment he wondered how hard the blow had been, but saw the slight rise in his chest that indicated he was breathing. A small fraction of his conscience was relieved at the fact, but then he turned his attention to the one who had done the damage. To say that he was taken aback was an understatement. Now in the moonlight he could see that the shadow was nothing more than a young boy, perhaps only ten years old. A scowl graced his features, an iron grip on the blade of a silver sword, and he stood with all the assurance of a fully grown man.
He was a mirror image of the Batman himself.
Batman almost didn't hear Nightwing appear at his side, but the eldest strode up, giving the boy a look of both confusion and suspicion. The hesitance in his voice was clear, "Someone make a clone of you?"
It was far from Nightwing's usual joking manner. The grip he had on his escrima sticks did not lessen, even at the obvious similarities between his old mentor and the young boy. Batman wasn't sure whether he ought to be more on his guard than ever or just intrigued by the newest arrival.
"I'm better than a carbon copy," the boy said, and then motioned to the unconscious Joker on the ground. "I've cleaned up your mess for you. You're welcome."
"A mess that a child shouldn't have gotten involved in," Batman said firmly, trying to analyze the stranger in front of him. He knew that he could find a way to dispatch the boy, get the weapon from his hands and take him into custody for his own personal questioning. But something held him back from doing so, even if it was apparent that he was more dangerous than any child he'd come across in the past.
The boy scoffed, rolling his eyes, and then set a razor sharp gaze on the Bat. It reflected his own Bat-glare so well that the Dark Knight felt a chill run over his skin. "I didn't expect you to be so demeaning. Talia sends her regards."
"Talia?" Nightwing nearly jumped at the sound of the name, looking to Gotham's Knight with even more suspicion. "What about her?"
But Batman only frowned, his mind working in a direction that he felt inclined to deny. "Enough with the games. An introduction would be appropriate."
The young boy narrowed his eyes slightly, seeming disgruntled but quickly shoved it aside. He stood tall and assured, like he had every honor bestowed upon him, like he had all the cards in his hands. "As you wish, Father. My name is Damian. Damian Wayne."