A/N: Two updates in a month? What is this? Hope you guys like this chapter. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
Jason leaned back against the cool metal wall, listening closely to the noises emitting from inside the warehouse. An hour had passed since he'd slipped into the back, taking up his position. This was nothing new. He was used to biding his time and waiting for the opportune moment. But he had to admit that tonight he felt himself revisiting the old thrum of readiness he hadn't experienced since he was a kid. Jason had to resist pacing, the energy in his veins urging him to get started. To try and quell that he tapped his fingers against his crossed arms, his gaze tracing the beams in the warehouse ceiling.
He stayed in the shadows on the upper level as he waited, directing his gaze below as men and women dressed in fine business suits entered. One by one the people he'd been expecting made their way inside, with body guards that he hadn't invited. Not that they posed much threat to the evening's plans. Really, Jason wasn't worried about the events going awry. Everything was in place. All he needed was a good performance.
"Targets should be in position in two minutes." Tim's voice came through the comm link, clear but distant. Although he wasn't physically there, Tim was ever-present at Jason's side. He saw through his own technological eyes, and gave his assistance when needed. Even this way, they still managed to be a sound working team.
"Got the controls ready?" Jason kept his voice low, the sound of chatter below drowning out his words. Seemed like his guests were getting anxious without knowing who their host was, or why he'd gathered them together.
"All are waiting on your signal," Tim assured him confidently. Through the comm came the faint sound of typing keys in the background. "No one is going anywhere."
"I knew that brain of yours would come in handy," Jason answered, resting his foot on a nearby crate.
"Heh," Tim said, and Jason could just picture the wry smirk on his face. "Just don't screw up. You've got an audience."
"Never was one for stage fright," Jason said. Back in the day he'd gotten far too much enjoyment from witty one-liners and comments that sassed his enemies right before he punched them in the jaw. Jason never had nerves crawling through him with this kind of work. It only exhilarated him.
There came the sound of a chair being pushed back abruptly, the legs scraping against the concrete. A man's voice rose up from the bottom floor of the warehouse, frustration brewing. "If none of us called this meeting, then why the hell are we here?"
Sounded like they were getting fed up with the meeting before it had even started. Jason thought it was funny to put them on edge. All these people thinking they were so tough-so intimidating. All thinking they were so powerful, when really they were nothing more than a bunch of rich thugs that could point their fingers and have others do their dirty work and make them a profit. Jason found satisfaction in the ability to make them squirm and teeter on their glass pedestals.
"Targets are all in," Tim said, clicking a few more keys. "You're good to go."
"Showtime," Jason said, straightening up and walking out from the shadows. He moved to the edge of the railing, leaning his elbows against it as he looked over. Down below was a table with chairs around it, enough to hold his invited guests. Their guards and extra personnel stood behind each of them, arms crossed.
"Glad you all showed up," Jason said, announcing his arrival. Everyone's gaze tilted upwards to see him, others sitting with their backs turned now shifting to face him. "It'd be a pain to have to make house calls."
One man who was standing with his hands braced against the table lifted an arm, pointing a finger decorated with a large jeweled ring at him accusingly. "Hey, you're that new guy-the Red Hood!"
"I see the name has gotten around," Jason answered. "Good, we can skip the introductions and get straight to the point."
"The hell do you want?" Another man spoke up, glaring at him. "You got no business with us."
"Actually I do," Jason answered. "So sit down and shut up."
"I don't have time for this," another said, standing and pointing. "Take him out!"
The guards drew their guns, but Jason was faster. His weapons were in his hands within seconds, firing round after round down below. He aimed close, bullets grazing the guards, and then landing in the table, right in front of each of the assembled drug dealers. They dove out of their chairs, covering their heads, their yells muffled by the gunshots.
Jason stopped firing, holding the guns out still, the guards holding their bleeding wounds. No one drew a weapon at him, all looking with fear, their fragile resolves broken. He knew it wouldn't take much to get them to listen-just the right amount of force. "Let me say it again: sit down and shut up. The quieter you are, the faster we can all move on with our night. Until then…"
Suddenly the warehouse doors closed heavily, the sound echoing through the room. There came the click of the locks, sealing everyone inside. Tim's voice filled Jason's ear affirmatively, "All exits are closed."
"What is this?" A woman shouted out as she looked up, the anger giving way to slight fear.
Jason lowered the guns slightly, keeping himself casually leaned against the railing. "Now that I have your full attention, we'll get this started. Listen closely scum, because I'm only going to explain this once. Each of you holds the position of one of the most prominent drug dealers in Gotham. It gives me a reason to keep you alive-for now."
He looked around at the crowd, seeing their brows furrow, lips press together. "Up until about five minutes ago, you've all been working under Black Mask, fighting over the scraps he gives you. That changes tonight. The drug cartel is switching hands."
"To your hands?" A man in a pinstripe suit asked, narrowing his gaze. Everyone knew the Red Hood was no hero, but they weren't sure exactly what he was. Throwing himself into the drug trade didn't make the line any clearer, and Jason liked it that way.
"Wow, we've got ourselves one that catches on quick," Jason said. "You'll keep the connections that you deal with and conduct your business as usual."
Jason's voiced hardened severely. "But kids are off the list. Deal to children, and it'll be the last move you ever make."
He gestured to them with the gun in his right hand. "You kick up forty-percent of the profits to me, and I'll make sure that Batman, Black Mask, and whoever else stays out of your way."
"Alright, so you've given us a decent deal," the man with the ring said. "But why should we risk our necks against Black Mask for you?"
Jason aimed his gun at a crate and fired once, the bullet piercing the air and shattering the lock. On the comm line Tim typed a few keys, and then the metal crate swung open. The drug dealers peered in and then recoiled in shock and disgust, stumbling backwards and stepping on one another, but not tearing their eyes from the contents of the crate.
"Each of you has had someone attempting to sabotage your dealings," Jason said. "Fortunately for you, they were also interfering with mine. Count up all those bodies, and you'll find every last one of them. In the short time it took you to gather here, I took them out."
It hadn't been hard to track them down and get everything set up before they arrived. Jason was thorough in his work, quick and to the point. He'd wanted to take out the lieutenants, but Tim suggested that if he was going to take anyone out, it would be more beneficial to build the trust with the dealers and also show his strengths.
With the looks on their faces, Jason was glad he'd taken Tim's advice. He straightened up, feeling as though he'd made his point clear. "And if you think your status gives you the protection to ignore what I've said, think again. Each of you is expendable. I'm simply giving you a warning so that you can keep your heads and we don't have to go through all the messy parts. Makes it easier for you and me."
He aimed his guns at them again, "You might think this is a choice, but it's not. Join or die, boys and girls."
"Escape route engaged," Tim said. As soon as the words were out, thick smoke filled the room, coming from secret stashes tucked away in corners. In moments it covered the area and Jason stepped backwards into the thick fog, hearing the locks on the doors release. He slipped out the back and into the night, leaving the dealers to find their way out. As he moved from the warehouse and into the night, he smirked to himself.
Mission accomplished.
Jason stretched as he entered the safehouse, holding back a yawn. The meeting gave him an adrenaline rush, the kind that came as a reaction to victory, watching pieces of his plan for Gotham continually fall into place. The energy sent him back to the safehouse, riding on its waves, but as he drew closer to home, the feeling faded. While he was still relatively awake, the tiredness set into his bones, and he was thankful that the night was over.
He removed his helmet, placing it on the table and removing his weapons, tossing the belt beside his gear. Then he made his way over to Tim's door, knocking once. At the muffled sound of approval from the opposite side, he opened the door, stepping in.
Tim sat at his desk, where he had quite the complex computer system set up in front of him. The teen swiveled in his chair to face him, one hand idle against the keyboard. "Nice show. I have to admit, even I was entertained."
"And you doubted me," Jason answered, shaking his head and then waving his hand. "No need to apologize, I've already forgiven your mistake."
The corner of Tim's mouth moved upwards, along with a slight roll of his eyes as he turned back to the computer screen. "Yeah, like I didn't already see it coming."
Three months ago they'd stood in the middle of that wretched night in Crime Alley. In the time since, Jason and Tim had taken Gotham's underground by storm. Jason acquired every last piece of equipment that Tim asked for, setting up their own video feeds in the city. Tim configured a sensor to each, meant to alert them whenever certain sounds triggered the system, such as screams or gunshots. They extended their reach as far as they could, pooling all of their resources.
All of their hard work was not without its payoff. Jason went over to the computer, putting a hand against the back of Tim's chair as he leaned over and looked at the screen. He could faintly see their reflections in the monitor, if he looked past the faces of the crime bosses staring back at them. "After that display they should all be falling into line soon enough."
"Let's see for ourselves." Tim tapped a few keys, pulling up some of the feeds around their hotspots of activity. Jason watched as henchmen took their stock from Black Mask, transporting shipments. It wouldn't be long before Black Mask caught on, but that was a problem that Jason could handle. All it would take is one massacre of his men to get the point across that he wasn't playing around. Black Mask would have nothing left after that then to draw back and try to come up with a plan to stop him. Either that, or take out the drug dealers that betrayed him.
If that happened, however, it was no worry. Tim had drawn up contingency plans that ranged in the hundreds, and the number only grew every day. No matter what turn the drug trade took, they'd have a plan to follow. Gotham didn't know it, but there was nothing it could do to catch them off guard. Jason and Tim had far more control than the city's underground realized.
Jason grinned, "Not wasting any time. That's what I like to see."
"I guess you can get back to just patrolling now. I think everything has been set in motion." Tim sat back, drawing his hands away from the keyboard and resting them on the arms of the chair.
"Ah, the sweet relief of simple patrol," Jason said. "Never realized how much I took it for granted."
Tim chuckled a little, then angled his head slightly upwards to look at Jason. "Speaking of, do you think I could come out with you soon?"
Jason felt his eyebrows raise in surprise, unable to hide the reaction. It wasn't like Tim was a total hermit. He went out during the day for short periods of time, ran small errands when needed. Most of the time, though, he stayed within the confines of the safehouse. He hadn't once gone out at night, spending those hours in front of the computer, the voice in Jason's ear.
Still, Jason recovered quickly, erasing the surprise from his face. "Sure. You could probably use some fresh air. I don't remember a time when your butt wasn't glued to that chair."
"Pfft," Tim answered, and although Jason sensed he was withholding another roll of his eyes, he could tell the teen was amused.
Jason moved away from the computer, taking a few steps into the middle of the room. He glanced to the side, his eyes falling to the small table in the corner. Tim kept all kinds of hardware and half-finished technological experiments there, and so to see what looked to Jason like a pile of scrap metal wasn't unusual. He always brought Tim what he needed and didn't question it, and sometimes Tim even went to gather the materials himself. What caught Jason's eye was what looked like some sort of fabric draped over the back of a chair. "What's all that?"
Tim glanced over his shoulder at the table. "A project I've been working on for a while now."
"One that you're actually going to finish or just another one of your toys?"
"Hey, those 'toys' are useful," Tim defended, and then answered. "It's almost ready. Just needs some finishing touches."
"Can't wait to see what kind of invention you came up with this time," Jason said. "Though if you're making a new shower curtain, that's useful too."
Tim fought back a grin, and though he managed to control it, Jason could see it creeping into his eyes ever so slowly. "Don't you have something to do?"
"Yeah, go take a nap," Jason answered with a yawn, heading out of the room. "Get some sleep yourself. We did good tonight."
Tim hummed in agreement, looking back to the computer as Jason left. He knew that the teen wouldn't listen and would probably get to work on something now that Jason was done pestering him. He'd work until he had no choice but to rest, or just fall asleep at the computer or table. At first it had worried Jason, but he was used to it now. Tim was more of a workaholic than he was, and he'd thought that was tough to beat. Then again, considering Tim's brains and his determined mindset, it wasn't all that shocking.
With the field work done though, there was nothing else for Jason to do. Besides, he'd earned a small break after that success, and more than a few hours of sleep. He flopped down onto his own bed, glancing up at the ceiling with a smile. For the first time in a long time, he could sleep easy.
It didn't make any sense.
Bruce stared at the computer screen, hands steepled in front of him as he scanned over the statistics before him. He'd run them three times now-even manually-just to make sure that they were correct. But Bruce knew even before that that his system was not flawed. It had never lied to him before, and this time was no different. He had the facts, but making sense of them was where he fell short.
He pushed back his cowl, rubbing his eyes tiredly. His patrol had been oddly quiet, with not as many incidents as he was used to. Things had been that way lately: slow and muted. The streets were by no means safe, as he still found evil in plenty of corners. But he could feel the change in his veins, even before he looked at the data. Bruce knew his city well, and it could not hide its shifts from him that easily.
The sound of an engine caused Bruce to look up as Nightwing's bike entered the cave. As soon as it stopped Damian leapt from the back of it, clad in his Robin suit. "I must say, Grayson. You did adequate work tonight."
Dick laughed lightly, stepping from the bike. "Well, thanks. You're getting the hang of things around here. Though, we've got to work on your restraint. You don't have to make sure you knock everyone's teeth down their throats every time you fight them. Petty criminals aren't worth that."
"That's where you're wrong," Damian answered, turning to walk farther into the cave. His gaze came forwards, landing on Bruce sitting at the computer, and he froze mid-step. In the next instant he bristled, pulling his foot back so that he was standing in place.
"Oh," he said, glowering at Bruce. "You're back early."
His son's attitude was expected, but Bruce still had to keep himself from sighing. Since the incident in Crime Alley, Damian had been more distant with him than ever. Dick took the role of training him, going as far as getting the boy a Robin suit of his own rather than wearing pieces of the past. Bruce didn't know how he felt about Damian wearing the suit. He knew Damian couldn't be contained in the cave and needed an outlet; a child who'd spent his life training to be an assassin needed to fight. But Bruce had never intended to just give Damian the Robin title like that.
But with Tim refusing to resurface, there was no Robin in the media. There wouldn't be confusion or question with Damian filling the gap. And while Bruce had brought the point up to Dick, they both came to the conclusion that there was nothing stopping Damian from doing it again. He'd find a way, and so perhaps it was best to permit it within their terms.
That hadn't changed Damian's attitude towards him in any way. Bruce tried to at least keep the peace, asking, "How was patrol?"
"Fine," Damian answered, turning on his heel and heading towards the back of the cave. Bruce felt the coldness of his tone all the way across the room, like ice sharply digging into his skin.
When Damian disappeared fully into the depths of the cave, Bruce let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. The Damian problem had stayed stagnant, never improving, never worsening. Bruce didn't know where to go from here, and try as he might, progress seemed far out of reach. It didn't help that he wasn't sure where to even go from here with his son.
Dick glanced in the direction Damian had gone, and then slowly walked over to the computer. Even Dick had been more hesitant around him since their argument. There wasn't distance like there was with Damian, but he could feel Dick's eyes on him at times, could sense the hero's caution. Bruce suspected he was waiting for a snap, for another fit of wrath to face.
But Bruce had calmed in the three months of silence. While he never stopped keeping an eye out for Tim, there was strange relief now. He knew Tim was alive, not being held against his will. There was even relief in knowing that he'd messed up, that he, at least, was the reason that Tim chose to stay hidden. Bruce didn't like it-in fact he couldn't stand that he was unable to talk to Tim and get him back. It was the knowledge that the teen wasn't in perilous danger that made him able to think straight.
Dick was right. He couldn't force Tim out of hiding, couldn't make him come back. That didn't make waiting any better on Bruce's conscience. He searched every patrol, checked in places hoping that he'd miraculously find Tim there. So far he hadn't been lucky, and he knew the teen better than that. Tim wouldn't be caught unless he wanted to be.
"You look…" Dick started, pausing to search for the right word.
Bruce glanced to him, and Dick finished, "Tired. Maybe frustrated."
"Both," Bruce admitted, taking a deep breath. Even if the physical side of things hadn't been as taxing, his mental capacity was ever so slowly breaking down. Bruce couldn't piece things together, and it kept him awake in the hours when he should be resting. But he couldn't rest, especially with the evidence in front of him.
Dick crossed his arms, looking at the screen. His eyes took in the numbers, and he asked while still reading them over, "What's this? A report?"
"I generated a chart to compare criminal activity over the last few months," Bruce explained, looking back to the numbers as well. He'd stared at them for so long that they were ingrained in his mind, unintentionally memorized. "That, and appearances of the Red Hood."
"Wouldn't be surprising to see them go hand in hand," Dick answered, frowning. "It shouldn't be shocking that we've got another villian in Gotham, but I'm surprised he stayed. Just another criminal to add to everything."
"That's just it," Bruce said, narrowing his eyes at the screen. "Crime rates are down. They've been dropping ever since the first reports of him came out in the press."
"But we've linked several murders already to him," Dick said, confusion crossing over his features. "So what's his aim, then? Kill other criminals-for what purpose?"
"I don't know," Bruce said, pressing a key. The chart slid off the screen, and images of the Red Hood came into focus instead. Some were from news reports, but most were still images captured from Bruce's feeds. He'd never captured the Red Hood actually committing a murder, which was another part of it that puzzled him further. It was as if he was avoiding the feeds purposely, like he knew where they were.
"Me either," Dick said, shaking his head. "If anything this just raises more questions about him."
Bruce grunted in response, refusing to break eye contact with the screen. After a few moments Dick turned from the computer, "We'll figure it out. At least he's not doing anything that threatening, right? Not attacking the innocent so far."
"Maybe," Bruce answered. The Red Hood was a mystery that the detective couldn't solve, a code he couldn't crack. Everything had its weakness, its way in. But so far there was none that he could use to his advantage. Dick was right that they'd figure it out eventually. No one's identity stayed a secret from everyone for long. He wondered, however, if he'd find the answer too late.
Dick walked away without another word, sensing that Bruce had fallen into deep thought and it was no use trying to talk to him now. Moving from the images, Bruce brought up the feeds and wound them back to where he'd left off reviewing the videos. He had the computer scan for any signs of the Red Hood, waiting as the information gathered.
Sure enough, the Red Hood came walking through an alleyway. The time on the recording said that this had been hours earlier, when Bruce was out patrolling. But he hadn't been that way tonight, hadn't even checked that end of the city. He watched as Hood strolled down the alleyway, stopping in the middle of it for a minute and not moving.
Bruce furrowed his brow as he watched, waiting for someone to jump from the shadows. No one did. The Red Hood did not raise his guns or pull his knife. Instead he lifted his gaze, turning his head. Bruce's eyes widened as the Red Hood looked directly into the camera, no doubt knowing where the camera was hidden. And though he couldn't tell behind the helmet, Bruce somehow knew he was grinning.