Hey y'all! I'm back! I'm so sorry I've been gone so long, school and Christmas and family affairs have beckoned and taken away my attention. Here is the next update, and it starts where the last chapter left off. I'll leave you alone to read this...
Chapter 6
Why did Deathstroke go through all the trouble of bringing me back? What did he want with me? And why did he send her instead of coming to tell me himself? I'd never met Deathstroke in my life, and I was grateful for it…but where was the connection? Deathstroke isn't stupid. He wouldn't waste resources like that…there had to be another reason…so why in fuck's name did he go to all of the trouble just to bring me back to life? Where's the motive there? He didn't owe my anything, so this was no favor…
Did he want something from me? Did he want me to think that because he brought me back, I'd feel obligated to owe him a favor? I'm a bat, though…why would he ever want my help? I pushed that idea out of my head as I walked out of the house of mirrors and toward my bike.
I threw my leg over the seat and revved the engine. Rain started falling again as I pulled out of the old parking lot. Thoughts whirled around in my head. If Deathstroke and the Joker were working together, that could prove to be a pretty difficult thing to deal with. But why would they even have anything to do with each other? The Joker was psychotic. Deathstroke wasn't. In fact, I somewhat admired the man for his wit and intellectual schemes. But I didn't know enough about him to figure out why he would even consider working with the Joker. The Joker killed me because I got in the middle of a drug deal…Deathstroke wasn't a part of that. Besides, if they were working together, why would Deathstroke bring me back after his 'partner' had killed me? That wasn't practical. It would be a waste of time, money, and resources…
I scratched the idea out of my head as I pulled back into the cave.
I had gotten back in time so no one would know I had left. But Bruce would probably be down here any minute…
I went to the computer and started looking up everything we had on the Lazarus pit. Damian said it wouldn't resurrect the dead, so how did I come back?
I sat there in my own thoughts.
There had to be a reason. Deathstroke wouldn't just reveal his plan to me like that…there was no way I believed what Ravager had said…
My thoughts were interrupted by Dick as he descended the stairs and made his way over to his gymnast equipment stuff followed by Tim. Tim enjoyed watching Dick. He always had. It's how he learned the secret. Tim was a fan of the Flying Graysons before they got prematurely separated. Neither of them saw me as they walked past. I listened to Dick's movements from my spot for a while before shutting the computer down and walking over to them.
"Hey, Jason." Tim greeted. "Did you just wake up?"
"Yeah." I lied. I had been awaked for the past twelve hours.
"Did you eat?"
"No, not yet. Why?"
"Alfred's making pancakes."
My mouth watered at the mention of Alfred's famous pancakes. They were the best food ever. Well, right next to chili dogs.
I looked up and watched as Dick expertly threw his weight around on the still rings. Tim, Damian, and I knew how to do it. Dick trained us in the art of acrobatics. But the training was minimal. It was something Bruce wanted us to know how to do in order to help us with our fighting skill and technique. We didn't ever use it much when we were fighting, but we were all light on our feet. Dick is the only one who actually uses the talent when fighting. It's really quite incredible to watch…
"Hey, Jay! Want a go?" Dick called.
I laughed and shook my head. "No way, bro. You know my aerial skills are fucked up."
"Jason. Stop saying that." Came Bruce's deep voice. I turned and saw him approaching us in casual workout clothes.
"Chill out, Bruce." I said. "It never mattered before."
"It always mattered. Stop saying that." He demanded. I looked back at Dick and rolled my eyes. I was rewarded with a hard smack to the back of my head.
"Ow! What the hell was that for?"
"I saw that." He said simply. Of course he did. "Alfred told me to come get you boys. Breakfast is ready."
Dick flipped down and landed perfectly at the mention of breakfast. He, like the rest of us, loved Alfred's pancakes. He came up to us and we all walked back up the stairs and to the elaborate kitchen of Wayne manor. Damian was sitting at the table chowing down when we got there. Dick and Tim both loaded up their plates and sat at the table. When I reached for a plate, Alfred stopped me with a wooden spoon.
"Ah. Master Jason. This will be your breakfast." He said as he handed me a tall glass of some brown shake.
"What is this?" I asked skeptically as I scrutinized the content of the glass.
"That is a protein shake full of nutrients and vitamins."
"And why are you giving me this?"
"Because, Jason. You need to get your strength back. You need to rebuild your muscle." Bruce said.
"Quite. This drink is specially formulated to help you rebuild muscle and bone strength. It will increase growth speed as you train."
I took a small sip of the drink. It was bitter and sour at the same time, and tasted like maggots blended with rotten milk. It was horrible.
"Oh my God!" I yelled as I spit it out in the sink. I placed the glass on the counter disdainfully. I grabbed another glass from the cabinet and filled it with water to wash the horrible taste out of my mouth. I slammed the glass in the sink as Damian and Tim laughed hysterically at me. I looked at Alfred miserably.
"You're going to have to get used to that, Master Jason. I'm afraid it will be your breakfast for the next few months.
"Bull shit. There's no way I'm drinking that." I said as I shot the glass of mutilated bugs a look of pure hatred.
He gave me a sad smile.
"Look. I appreciate the effort, but I can build my muscle back the same way I did before." I said.
"That's true, Master Jason. But judging by what you've lost, it could take two or more years before you return to your original structure." Alfred said.
"What do you know?" I spat. He was a doctor…of course he knew.
"Jason. You're weak."
"Way to be sympathetic, Bruce." Dick deadpanned.
"I know I'm weak. I know." I said. I hated to admit it, but he was right. The Joker blew up the left side of my body. I had to build my muscle back.
"So what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm guess going to work my fucking ass off until I get back to where I was."
"You're going to have to do that with or without the diet. This is going to shorten your time and get you back in the game sooner. Without it, you're stuck here, because I'm not letting you go anywhere until I know you're strong enough." Bruce said seriously.
I shouted, "I didn't say I wanted to drink bug guts to get my body back!"
"You want your body back? This is how you're going to get it. I want you back out there."
"We'll help you, Littlewing." Dick said.
"Don't call me that." I spat. "You're right… I need my body back, but I don't want to get it this way! There has to be another option."
"There isn't." Bruce deadpanned.
Alfred lifted the tall glass and set it in my hand gently while giving me a small pat on the arm.
I looked at the evil drink. The recipe must have been invented by the Devil himself. I looked down at my body, letting my eyes trail up my shriveled arm. I knew I was going to need all the help I could get. Besides, the sooner I was back to normal, the sooner the Joker would be off the streets of Gotham.
"Fine. But once I get my body back to where it was, I need you to leave me on my own."
"One step at a time." Bruce said gently.
I nodded and picked up the glass. If this is what Alfred and Bruce said I needed to do, I was going to do it. I hated it, but I accepted it. Just like death. I lifted the glass to my lips and poured the thick liquid down my throat slowly. It was revolting, but I didn't stop until it was gone. It took all of my will power to force the last gulp down my throat, but I did it. I shuddered as it went down. I slammed the glass back on the counter with a loud crash and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I didn't look at anyone as I took a moment to compose myself.
"We aren't letting you go alone, Jason. Not until I'm fully satisfied that you can hold your own. I won't lose you again because you were unprepared." Bruce said once the drink was gone.
Shouldn't have lost me in the first place. If only you'd been a man and killed him before everything got out of hand…
"I don't care if I die again." I said simply.
"We care." Alfred said.
"No you don't." I said. "You can't. I'm already dead, I have been for months. I've got to do this alone. You don't understand. You have to let me go."
"How the hell do you expect us to do that?" Tim asked.
"You did it once."
"That doesn't matter. You are our brother, Jason. We love you. We aren't just going to send you to your death again."
"Why not? I know what to expect. I'm not afraid to die."
"How are you so calm about this, Jay?"
"It wasn't so bad." I said quietly.
"What was it like, then? Dying I mean." Tim asked solemnly.
"It was…peaceful almost. I knew it was coming, and I accepted it. I knew I was going to die that night even before I saw the bomb."
"Wait…you were alive when the building exploded?" Damian asked in shock.
"Yeah." I shrugged.
"So the Joker just locked you in a warehouse so you could watch the last few seconds of your life tick by?" Damian asked.
"No. He beat me with a crow bar and then locked me in the warehouse so I could watch the last few seconds of my life tick by." I said matter-of-factly. Alfred dropped his frying pan at my words.
By the looks on their faces, I could tell they didn't know that little bit of information.
"He beat you? With a crowbar?" Dick asked in disbelief.
"He called himself my 'Uncle Joker'…he called it a 'severe spanking'… what a sick psychopath…You don't know what happened?" I asked in the same tone.
"No…well, we knew about your mother working with the Joker, and we knew the Joker blew up the building. But we didn't know he-he…" He didn't finish. "You're mom said you saved her…"
"She's alive?!" I asked in excited shock.
"No…she died in the blast. I got there right as the explosion happened. I found Sheila first and she was still alive-"
"Oh, God." I choked as I unconsciously placed a hand over my mouth and turned away to lean over the sink.
"She said you covered the bomb with your body to protect her from the blast…"
I looked at him before answering, nodding slightly as I did so. "I did."
"Did it hurt?" Tim asked.
"No. I don't think so." I said.
There was silence between us.
"I'm going to kill him." I said simply.
"What? Who?" Damian asked in surprise.
"The Joker."
"No you're not." Bruce said seriously.
"Yes, I am." I shot back. "He should already be dead, Bruce. He's killed hundreds upon hundreds on innocent people. He deserves to die, and I swear to God, I'm going to kill that bastard."
"No. God Almighty, no." Bruce snapped. "I am not going to let that happen. We don't kill."
"I know you don't kill. But I'm not you. Bruce, you always said you were going to clean up the God forsaken city, but what the hell have you done for Gotham?"
"We've gotten criminals off the streets, Jason. We've made this place better." Bruce said.
"Holy fuck, Bruce! What the hell do you think you've accomplished by dragging in purse snatchers and petty thieves, huh!?" I screamed, "They aren't criminals! The real devils are the ones who fucking kill! Where are they, Bruce?! Where are they? Running the streets killing their lowly clients and SELLING DRUGS TO KIDS! Where the hell have you been? You get them off the streets and lock them in a nice warm building for the night only to hear they escape the next fucking morning! You put them in a glorified mental hospital, Bruce! They're still out there! They're still hurting people and they don't care! You don't care because you aren't doing a single fucking thing about it!" Selling drugs to kids was a sore spot for me…if those drug dealers hadn't sold to me when I was 8…maybe Catherine Todd would still be alive…
"Calm down, Jason!" Tim yelled at me.
"Shut up!" I screamed at him. "You aren't doing anything! WE have never done anything ever to help this damned city! Putting killers away isn't going to stop them! You have to give them a dose of their own fucking medicine, Bruce!" I was panting. The stress of yelling had worn me out…I really was weak.
"And if we kill them that doesn't make us any better than they are!"
"What the hell, Bruce?! The cops kill criminals all the time and they're fucking heroes! All you ever do is break their nose and send them to jail! The corrupted cops of this corrupted city are doing a better job of cleaning up the streets than you ever have!"
"The cops aren't helping a soul-" Bruce began.
"The hell they're not!" I screamed cutting him off.
"Master Jason! Compose yourself." Alfred said sternly. I ignored him.
"What good is stopping a criminal for a week? You don't have any control over them, Bruce! They don't even fear you! You have to get in and destroy the criminal empire from the inside out, and if that means the psychopathic serial killers die, then who cares?" I said the last part in a deadly whisper.
"I care."
"Why, Bruce? Why do you care? They're killers. They don't deserve to live." I hissed.
"Killing them isn't the answer. The reason I got into this business was to get killing off the streets of Gotham, and we aren't going to kill to accomplish that."
"That's such a load of bull shit. Your goddamn morals aren't going to change anything! Either you buckle down and open your eyes, or you let Gotham City rot. It's your choice, but I'm not just going to sit around and do nothing, Bruce. Think of everyone that's died. Think of everyone who's been hurt." I said as I faced the rest of them with sweat trickling down my temple.
"Thomas and Martha." For Bruce.
"Stephanie and Jack." For Tim.
"John and Mary." For Dick.
"Ra's and Talia." For Damian.
"Barbara…and me." For all of them.
I watched as their faces grew dim. "All of us…and you're just sitting around doing nothing. I've been dead for nine months, and you don't so much as have an inkling of an idea where The Joker is. He murdered me, Bruce! He's murdered thousands of people! He shouldn't be alive." I said the last sentence quietly as I crossed my arms and looked at the floor.
There was a full ten minutes of silence as they all looked from one to another.
"Jason. I know you're hurt. I know you're scarred, and I know you're scared. But you need to calm down and clear your head. I-"
"You know what, Bruce? Just forget it." I said. I knew I was just blowing hot air, but it was worth a shot, and I was glad it was off my chest. I pushed past him and out of the kitchen. I made my way to the study and down the steps to the batcave. I was going to do this; I was going to kill the Joker. But first, I needed to get my strength back. I walked to the back of the cave and scanned the workout equipment there. I settled my eyes on a set of dumb bells and walked to it. I tried to pick up each one with my left arm and found the heaviest one I could lift was 30 pounds. I sighed.
This was going to take months. I sat down and started bicep curls with the dumb bell. I felt the heat increase in my arm, but nothing was going to make me stop. My arm shook each time I lowered my hand. It only took a few reps until I didn't think I could go any longer.
'This is the arm you're going to kill the Joker with. This is the arm you're going to kill Deathstroke with. This is the arm you're going to kill Penguin with. This is the arm you're going to kill Black Mask with. This…' I kept repeating it over and over in my head. I had to. It didn't make lifting the damn thing easier, but it kept my mind focused on that one simple movement. Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down…
I don't know how long I let my arm burn in what seemed like hell, but it must have been a while because I was stopped by Dick.
"Jason, stop. You're going to hurt yourself." He said as he placed a hand on top of mine to stop my movement.
"Pain is irrelevant." I said as I looked him in the eye.
He looked sad at my words. "Well take a break anyway. Get some water and we can spar if you want."
He removed his hand. My concentration was broken. I sighed and stood up to place the dumb bell back on its proper rack. I followed Dick back to the main part of the cave where Alfred had left a tray of water on the table. I scoffed as I lifted the glass to my lips and poured the water down my throat. I leaned against the table for a moment before nodding at Dick. He pulled two bo staffs out of the locker and tossed one to me. I caught it easily and we headed off to the sparring ring. I wasn't expecting to lose. I never had before-not against Dick anyway. I always beat him, and I had always had more brawn than he. But this time, he totally destroyed me. I went down time after time, even when he seemed to be going easy on me. I was winded by the second spar. I couldn't keep up with him and every time I lost, I just got more infuriated. I put as much power as I had behind each of my attacks, but it wasn't enough. Dick still easily outmaneuvered me. Tim and Damian entered the cave during our seventh round to watch.
Dick over powered me. On what I think was our 16th round, he and I came down to a fight of strength. I already knew who would win. Our bo staffs were pressed against each other perpendicularly as we pushed against the other. I tried, but I was far too tired to do any good. Dick pushed me down until my left knee buckled and hit the floor. He pulled back when I was down. I lowered my staff in utter defeat and lowered my other knee to the ground so that I was literally on my knees in front of him with my head bowed. Dick lowered himself to my level and looked me in the eye.
"Jason…" he began before he was cut off by Batman's entrance into the cave.
Batman looked our way and nodded before walking away to the bat mobile and speeding off to begin patrol. I supposed he expected me to shrug off everything I said earlier and forget about it. He knew I was lazy, I knew it too. But this was different. This was my life now, even if it was my second one.
I vaguely wondered why Damian or Tim hadn't gone with him…Why was he going alone?
"Come on." Dick said as he placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to the treadmill.
"What's this for?"
"If you have to get back to where you were, we need to see where you're at. Starting with stamina." He said as he shoved me onto the treadmill. I never did like that thing…it went beyond fast, and since I wasn't controlling the speed, it made me even more nervous.
"Look, I don't really think-"
"We'll take it slow." Dick said. I sighed as I took off my shirt for him to hook up all of the wires that monitored my endorphins and adrenaline, along with heart, lung, and brain function. Even my killer abs were gone…bummer. Dick and the others took a seat behind the control desk in front of me.
"Just tell us when you've had enough." Dick called as he started the machine.
I started out walking, then got faster and faster until I was at a jog. I felt a stitch in my side as I ran, but I ignored it and tried to keep the pace. They kept increasing the speed until I was in a full out sprint. It was tough, and I was tired, but they already knew I was weak, and I didn't want to prove that to them anymore than I had to. I glanced up and saw they were all looking at the monitors intently, pointing and speaking among themselves. My lungs and calves were burning, and I could hear my rapid heartbeat as I tried to keep up with the treadmill. I wondered how long I'd been running…I was winded.
Finally, I felt the ground beneath my feet slowing down. I don't know what I was thinking, but I just stopped. My feet just wouldn't move anymore, and that was stupid. Next thing I knew, I was flying through the air and crashing into the cave wall. I looked up dazed and saw three fuzzy images standing over me. I barely heard their muffled speech as the called to me. I could, however, hear the blood raging past my ears.
"Fuck." I said when I finally came to.
"Are you alright, Jay?" Dick asked as he helped me up. "What happened?"
"I stopped." I said simply.
"Just like that? You stopped?" Tim asked.
I shrugged as I pushed past them, panting hard. I slumped down in the chair at the control desk, trying to catch my breath and looked at my vitals as I ran. I was shocked at what I saw. I started out normally, but when I got into the jog, they spiked aggressively. When I hit the sprint, they were off the charts, then all of a sudden they flat lined when I was thrown off.
"What the hell, Dick. Why'd you let me get that high?" I asked through hard breathing.
"It wasn't right. You looked fine on the outside. You were breathing normally and your rhythm was spot on. You were only on there for 3 minutes."
Three minutes and I could barely breathe with my lungs aflame?
"How did you feel?" Tim asked.
"I was fine, I guess...I was ready to stop right about the time you were slowing down…" I said as I looked back over the vitals.
I felt a cold finger touch my back. I jumped and straightened my back at the contact.
"Sorry…it's just that now I know what happened…all of these scars look like…"
"Then end of a crow bar." I finished for him, "I know."
"Why aren't any of you with Batman tonight?" I asked, spinning around in the chair to look at them.
There was a brief moment of pause before Tim sputtered out an answer.
"He-uh…he didn't need us tonight. He needed time alone after…everything that's happened. He just went solo tonight is all." He said quickly.
"Good lie, Tim." I said. His face turned red. I didn't care anymore. I knew Bruce probably told them to watch me. Probably because I said I would kill the criminals and he didn't want me going anywhere. "You can tell him that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I'm too weak to go out yet. His precious little criminals are safe for now." I said smugly.
"You're not really thinking of killing anyone, are you?" Dick asked.
"Yes." I said simply as I stood and walked back to the main part of the cave where Alfred left the water. Why was that so hard for them to believe? "I grew up in crime alley. What do you expect?" I asked quietly. I was being honest, too. Ever since Bruce took me in, I always thought he had been doing things wrong, but I went along with it. Why? I'll never know…but now I know I should've done things right…I wasn't an innocent little kid, I'd seen death-experienced it firsthand. I'd seen everything-everything.
"You were raised better than that, Jason. All of us were."
"You grew up with a loving family, Dick. You don't kill. Tim grew up in a mansion, completely protected from the world and all its evil. He doesn't kill. Damian's already a killer, and I grew up in crime alley around death and drugs and sex."
"You're not a killer because of that, Jason! You never have been."
The truth was, I had killed a man before. I don't know what his name was, and I don't care. He was a drug dealer who had come to our squat. He came in screaming and throwing things around. He hit my mother. He hit Catherine Todd right in her face. He beat her, much like the Joker beat me, just without the crow bar. He hit me too, but I was ready for it. I stabbed him in the face with a knife. He went down screaming as I stabbed him over and over in the chest. I didn't know then that he would die…I thought it would be like the cartoons I had seen. I expected him to just get up and run away….but he didn't. He lay there unmoving. I watched him until my mother woke up. She gasped and we left the squat and the man behind. I never regretted killing that man.
"You don't know me." I growled.
"I know you're our brother, and I know Batman raised you to do good. We don't kill, Jason."
I scoffed at them. "Whatever. You kill when you have to." I said bitterly.
Damian stood right in front of me and looked me in my eye.
"I knew it." He said. "Who have you killed, Todd?" He asked seriously.
I scowled at him angrily.
"Who was it?" he demanded.
There was no point in lying to him-to any of them. They were all detectives, they would know. Damian knew I had killed someone. He knew the look in a man's eyes…
"It was a long time ago, Damian. It doesn't matter anymore. The world is a better place with him out of it."
Dick's mouth dropped and Tim backed up a few steps. Damian didn't respond, but he backed out of my face.
I glanced at the clock-it was late.
"I'm going to bed, guys. I'll-I'll see you in the morning." I said as I pushed off the table and made my way up the stairs and through the clock into Bruce's study. My calves burned as I climbed the steps and made my way down the hall to my room. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, only to see I had left my shirt in the cave. I stripped off the rest of my clothes and took a quick shower. I sighed as I looked at my scarred flesh in the mirror. It looked terrible. I really was a zombie…I had just climbed out of my grave and already I was working on getting my body back. It was going to take time, but I would make it. I just hoped my strange, adopted family wouldn't hate me once I got back to where I was and went out on my own. I would be a hero. I would make a difference. I would rise up and do more for this city than Batman and Robin had ever done.
I hope it's long enough for you! I worked hard on it. Now-in all seriousness, please tell me what you want to see happen in this story. PLEASE. It won't be good without your input, so leave a review with questions, comments, concerns, or requests. If you have a private request, PM me!
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