"Luis Baez." Kozak pulled up a picture of the crime boss. "Leader of the LG, involved in prostitution, human trafficking, weapons smuggling, ecetera, ecetera." The brown haired man leaned back in his seat. "Same ol' typical criminal shit that you'd see in the movies and no correlation with the letter J."

Hunter was leaning against the wall by the window that overlooked the capital city of Venezuela from the motel they had been spending the night in.

"We're probably just over thinking." Viper came in. "What if there's no reason behind the J?"

"There's reason to everything."

"Kid's possibly holding vital information. But on the other hand..." He stretched his hand for the sake of animation. "He could just be another pawn on the chessboard."

"Question is," Hunter turned to his comrades. "Just how the hell did he get in the game?"


Jason stepped inside to a whitewashed modern-western designed room. White floor, white immaculate walls, with a white leather sofa.

"Come, Jason," Hugo signaled to the seat. "Sit. Have some coffee. Water perhaps?"

"Water's fine." He said as he took a seat. He was never much of a coffee person.

Hugo took the clay jug and poured the crystal clear liquid into a small glass cup.

"So Jason," Hugo began. "How are you feeling so far?"

"Fine."

"Are you not afraid? Anxious? You're thousands of miles away from home." He set down the water and slid the glass to his patient. "Anyone who's been away from family and friends for such a long period typically experiences those symptoms."

"I said I'm fine."

Hugo stared at him for a minute then nodded his head.

"I can tell you're in denial." He analyzed. "You distance yourself from your emotions..."

"I'm used to it."

"Have you had any traumatic experiences recently, Jason?"

"Okay, okay, I'll finish riiiight after this last one." Joker lifted the tortured Robin's head with the crowbar then proceeded to smash his face with the tool.

"Come on, kiddo." He continued. "I know you can scream louder than that!"

"None that I can think of."

He gave him a polite, incredulous gaze. "How did that mark appear on your face?"

"N-n-n-no, please no."

Joker lifted the scorching iron and jammed it onto his left cheek, laughing hysterically. Jason let out a violent cry as the surface consumed a part of him. It hissed at his blood and tears. It ate away his dignity.

"Drunk night with my friends."

"I see…" His voice drifted. As if he caught something. "How was your childhood?"

"Shit. Next question."

"Language, Mr. Todd." He leaned back in his seat across from him. "And I don't find that answer…detailed enough."

"Why do you care to know? What are you gonna do? Ease my pain? Cure me?"

Strange chuckled. "You out of all people should know you can't be cured."

"Then you know perfectly clear." He leaned forward."You will never understand me. So let's just end it right here."

"That's what they all said." Hugo folded his hands. "Every soldier I spoke with. They felt no one would ever be able to comprehend what goes on in their fragmented minds. That their world was too distorted, too confusing, too traumatic."

…But to be broken means at once you were whole."

"You come up with that by yourself, doc?"

"Think about what I just told you."

"I never was 'broken'."

"So does that imply you are whole?"

Jason looked away. He hated when shit caused him to think. He hated reevaluation. He hated...looking within himself. He didn't want to. He couldn't.

"Who ever said I was?"

"Jason Peter Todd." Professor Hugo Strange leaned back and crossed his legs. Supercilious bastard. "Son of Willis and Catherine Todd-an abusive, alcoholic petty criminal and methamphetamine addict respectively."

"Young Jason was raised in the slums of Gotham-Crime Alley to be more specific. The name says it all: drugs, poverty, gangs, lawlessness. Life wasn't easy for him. His father was usually out running minor errands while his mother was typically too befuddled with drugs to consider she even had a son. The little income his father produced went towards his alcoholism and mother's worsening drug habit. There was little concern for young Jason and eventually, his father abandoned him and his mother when he turned six. So Jason had to fend for himself."

"The six year old began to follow in his father's footsteps. It initiated with stealing from drugstores, snatching unattended wallets. Using his innocence to get by...He hated himself for it.

His mother unfortunately died two years later from a meth overdose. Years after, it graduated to break-ins, violence, removing and selling tires…

All of that anger, all of that bitterness, all of that blackness. He never thought he would become like his father. He never wanted to. But there he was. No guidance, no hope. Possibly, at this point, young Jason was contemplating suicide…"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Shut up…"

"He felt worthless, like no one ever cared." He persisted. "He was turning into that very same monster he saw in his father. There was no other way out…"

"I said shut up!"

"But his first attempt was unsuccessful. Someone had to have walked in his life at that point. Someone…close. Someone…special..."

(Warning: Explicit/ Disturbing Content)

Flashback

Gotham City

Year: 2003

9:40pm

Viola said her last goodbyes to her fellow church members before stepping out of the building one Wednesday evening. Bible study had come to a close and she decided the long day she spent ministering at homeless shelters before should come to an end.

The elderly African-American woman stepped down the stairway and proceeded to the sidewalk. As usual, she made her way down 98th street and turned to Mercier Avenue to stop by a mini mart to pick up a few groceries.

It was nothing much and nothing out of the ordinary. Spinach, vegetables, fruit, milk-necessities that were enough to feed her for the week, and nothing to upset her diabetes.

It was around ten o' clock at this point as she made her way to her apartment. She happened to pass by an alleyway when something caught the corner of her eye. Once she saw what it was, she dropped her grocery bag.

"Oh-Oh my God!"

Viola stood in shock, her skin now cold. She ran towards what caught her attention.

It was a boy. A child. No more than eleven years old.

He was bleeding profusely, dying near the dump in the alley. Blood literally painted the concrete. He was shaken; his small body was slightly moving, twitching as if he were in shock.

She picked up his small lifeless body and turned him around. He had the face of cherub. For a second she wondered why such a beautiful child was in a place like this

A gorgeous pair of blue eyes stared back at her.

"It hurts," Was what he said. "S-so bad."

She thanked God.

"Just stay with me, okay?" She took his hand. "Squeeze my hand. As hard as you can. Yeah, there you go. Don't let go now. Just hold on…hold on. Yes, I know it hurts. But you're gonna have to hold on. That's all you can do."

His vision began to blur, dark circles danced around the corners of his eyes, his head felt light.

"Just hold on…"

Those were the last words he heard before darkness consumed him.

The kid was…gone.

"I can see you were reminiscing."

Jason focused back to Strange.

"I take it you were thinking of the time you first encountered Mrs. Viola Bailey."

"…How?"

"Was that the time you felt 'whole', Jason?" He questioned. "Or did she break you further? Did she break you beyond reparation when she was killed that Thursday evening one year later?"

Did she teach you not to love? Did she teach you never to become emotionally attached? Did she teach you that the ones you love are the ones that hurt you the most?"

Jason sat there silent with his eyes to the floor. He remembered that Thursday night-he thought about it everyday. He'd walked in to her apartment only to see her sitting lifeless on the green chair where she used to read him stories , her blood stained the fabric, it splattered on the polished wooden floor. Apparently, there was a break-in. She'd been robbed and killed, her body left there to rot...

"Is that why you ran away from the Manor, Jason? Could you no longer take the hospitality? Were you afraid of being disappointed? Were you afraid of being hurt again?"

"You don't understand anything, Hugo."

"As I said, I do have a thorough knowledge of all my patients." He asserted. "Background checks, research. Tedious, yes. But it's always vital for a psychologist to understand their patients...

…even better than they know themselves."

Jason was taken aback.

"The human mind is a fragile instrument, Jason." He balled his fists before his face, his eyes fixed on him in a way that would bring the devil himself to shame. "Pull the right strings and press the right buttons, it can turn on you. Bring back your darkest memories, extract the most disturbing thoughts you could think of, expose your deepest secrets, show people who you truly are…"

Unease surged through him. He shifted in his seat.

"There is nothing you can hide from me, Jason."

The former Robin looked into Hugo's eyes once more.

"I think we're done here. " Todd rose from his seat then began to the metal door awaiting his exit.

"You forgot your water." Hugo called to the young man, gesturing to the glass.

"I'm not thirsty."

"It's only adequate," he said in his pompus voice. "You asked for it. I poured it out for you. So you must drink it."

Annoyed, he walked back to where he was and angrily chugged the water.

"Happy?"

"Thank you for your cooperation." He called out to a Jason Todd who was already halfway to the door.

Once his hand touched the door handle, he could've sworn he saw it shift. He blinked to try again but once he looked up, the door had been pushed back no more than six meters.

"What...? What the hell…" He noticed he spoke slow, sloggishly. His eyelids felt as if they were fighting against blocks of lead to keep them open. He turned towards the psychologist.

Everything then turned cloudy, distorted. Objects stretched then shrunk, furniture moved backwards. This wasn't real. This wasn't normal. Jason saw Hugo sitting there unphased by the situation.

Hell, there was a smile on his face.

That's when he knew…

he'd been drugged.

Why was he so naïve?

"It's amazing to know the power of a few drops of a simple anesthetic surpasses the strength of a man," Professor Strange stated. Jason stumbled then fell on his knees. His sight dizzy. Hugo stood up and advanced towards him. "Despite their prowess, despite their willpower."

Todd looked up. The psychologist's figure towered over him, his hands were folded.

"How are you coping, Mr. Todd?" He asked patronizingly.

"Fuck…you…"

His mind then gave up. Going cold before his two hundred pound body thumped to the ground.