Author's Note: This is long overdue and even then, just a taster for the next chapter which will heavily feature Alfred and Jason and be told from the faithful butler's POV. This chapter reveals that Bruce is not the only cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch playing games with people's emotions. We're looking at a three chapter run after this as a minimum. Hopefully it shouldn't be long between updates this time.
Enjoy.
Descent 2
Everything has gone wrong and my world has crumbled. Perhaps this is somewhat of an exaggeration, but after arriving at Daytona's address and tracing documents to a warehouse in Gotham Docks, the situation did not improve. Encountering stern resistance was not the issue, nor was their superior numbers once combat became the only option. It was my realisation that I had been mistaken about the boy that ended the evening on a sour note. I had assumed he had gathered his intelligence from reputable sources. I was mistaken. I presumed the boy did not realise the game I was playing. I was again in error. Jason is not stupid. My theories and the shock of forming them so clearly in my mind caused my fall from height. I had been blind to think Jason could be controlled without a leash, that a change in attitude or temperament could be genuine if not forced. When I blacked out, I was unsure of whether the boy in his current state of mind would save me at all.
"Bruce?"
My vision slowly bleeds back in. I see the boy looming over me.
"Bruce? You with me, big guy?" He is not in uniform anymore, despite that being the last image I have of him before my fall. I gather we are in my bedroom, judging by the décor and that I am lying in bed. Jason is wearing only a pair of loose, knee-length shorts as he stands over me, allowing an impromptu inspection of a plethora of bruises and lacerations streaking his torso and face. Thankfully, there does not appear to be any serious injuries or swelling present. The boy thwarts my attempts to sit up, forcing me back down to the mattress with unwelcome ease. "Al says no getting up until your concussion dies down. He also says it's a wonder you didn't fracture your skull falling thirty feet." Jason informs me with a lopsided grin that says he finds all this amusing. I do not.
"How did we extract from the area?" I inquire reaching up and running my fingers over the bandages around my head. Alfred is being much too careful. Jason sits down on the edge of the bed and shrugs.
"I carried you out. I had to stave off the majority of Daytona's bat-hungry goons, but we managed to get back to the cave easily enough."
"Did we secure evidence of Pedro's involvement in Halsee's operations?"
"Nothing that'll hold up in court. Not that it matters when Pedro's already behind bars anyway." The boy offers with a smile. I sense he is trying to cheer me up. It is not working well.
"He will be released in less than two months if we do not find proof of his illicit activities soon. How long has Alfred prescribed me bed rest?"
"If he had his way…two to three years. Since he doesn't, a week at the absolute least."
"That is unacceptable." I say before trying to force my way out of bed. Jason responds to this by surreptitiously shifting his weight to stop me from exiting his side of the bed. When I manoeuvre to get out on the other side, the boy mounts my torso to immobilise me completely. He shakes his head.
"Stop being a complete retard and engage your brain. There are no lifts in this house and the only way down to the cave is via a very long and narrow set of steps in near darkness: you can't even coordinate an escape from a seventeen-year-old boy already dosed up on pain meds. You're in no condition to stop arms trafficking." He tells me bluntly, but without any anger. He leans forward until his chest makes contact with mine before folding his arms and propping his chin on top of them. "I know you lied to me the other night." Jason says with a smirk. I frown.
"What do you mean?"
"About you loving me. I know you think I'm a broken toy that's too fucked-up to fix. What I didn't know is how dumb you think I am. Think I can't see through your bullshit after all these years, big guy? You're not the only guy who can manipulate people like puppets. How do you think I knew about Pedro being the real Don Corleone?"
I am addled by my concussion and Alfred's medication, but I can also see the boy is heavily under the influence of his own prescription to be saying such things with abandon. Jason is daring me to call him on my suspicions that he is leveraging and using members of Pedro's organisation to gain information on their leader and damning the human cost it brings to his unwitting informants. It is a theory I fit upon the scenario last night and was the cause of my fall. Realising your partner is responsible for unnecessary suffering and perhaps even death just so he can obtain intelligence is monstrous. My foot giving way under an unstable section of the building roof was the least of my concerns in that moment. Jason has just confirmed the deterioration of our partnership is almost complete.
"You are destroying lives, Jason." I reply only for the boy to roll his eyes derisively.
"Forgive me if I don't weep for the poor scum who gets his fingers cut off for poor security drills or the chump who loses an eye because he took the wrong guy's Benjamin Franklin…"
"You're bribing them for information as well?" I ask now realising the extent of our freefall. Jason shakes his head.
"No, I promise them cash, lots of it, but I never give them a cent. That's stupidity in action, big man." The boy says laughing briefly, "Criminals here are so retarded they'd beat their mothers for the promise of a hundred bucks."
"Jason, that is not our way…"
"Wrong. That's not your way. If we did things your way, Halsee would be your guy and Pedro would slip under the radar, free to run the show from the safety of anonymity while you chase what's essentially his scarecrow round Gotham like a rat in a maze. My way has just saved us days of work, maybe even weeks, but you just want to shoot me down as a loose cannon because I used my common sense." The boy tells me in such a way that I am convinced Jason cannot see the problems of straying from the right side of the path. He has not begun to deviate, but rather completely follow his own path into the dark with this display.
"Why are you telling me this now?" I ask as his bodyweight begins to constrict my chest. He frowns at me as if the answer is obvious.
"Because you figured out how I got my info last night. That's the only reason you'd ever fall off a building like an amateur cliff diver. There's no point lying to you if you've got the truth circling your head."
"And how are you expecting me to react to this admission?"
"Really badly as a matter of fact. I take it I'm fired?" He says sitting up and straddling my chest with a sigh. If it were possible to fire him, I would have done it a long time ago. He knows I can't dismiss him either. The boy is aware his volatility and training makes him too dangerous for release back to the streets he came from. He knows my hands are tied on the matter and that, given my current condition, I need him more than he needs me.
"If I asked you to stop your illicit intelligence-gathering activities, would you?" I say trying to suppress the rising anger I feel when I see a smirk materialise on his face.
"No orders? No screaming?" He asks, obviously relishing his high bargaining position at present and my personal pride taking a knock. I maintain an even tone.
"That is the general idea."
"Sure I'd stop. If you ask nicely, I'll quit cold right here and now." He tells me, leaning in and daring me to strike him across the face. He wants me to get ugly with him, wants me to snap. The boy is spaced indeed to tease me like this. I swallow my pride and ask him as politely as possible.
"Jason, please do not engage in such shady practices again, not without my explicit permission to do so. Is that understood?"
"Okay, consider my side-line over, big man. Anything else?"
"Before I ask, I need to be able to trust you."
"Says the guy who manipulates the street hustler's emotions like a puppeteer to make him dance?" Jason counters before miming the hands of a puppeteer working the puppets' strings. He narrows his eyes but maintains a smug smile. I try to reach him.
"Jason, I never met to hurt…"
"Save the spiel for someone else, preacher man. Be happy that Al's drugs make me mellow enough not to spit in your face right now. Tell me what you need." He says letting his arms fall by his sides and wincing from what looks like a strained shoulder or pulled back muscle. He seems engaged enough so I make my request as concise as possible.
"I know where their next shipment will dock and when. I need you to stop it from making if off that pier."
"When?"
"Two days from now, Pier 33. The shipment will arrive shortly before one A.M. It is Pedro's most regular shipment and without doubt the nuclei of all other trafficking operations. I need it to be permanently disrupted. Understand?" Jason does not give an answer. The boy's proximity is still within touching distance of my face. I can smell his breath and feel it hitting my face as he considers what I ask of him.
"I get it. For the record, I loved you once too. And, just so there's no confusion, when I turn eighteen, I'm gone. There won't be a goodbye note or any kind of warning. One day you'll just find me gone. I can be your bad dream, Bruce, the one you can pretend isn't real and never happened." Jason tells me in a mocking tone that children often taunt each with in the schoolyard. His blue eyes flash briefly to my still hands. "Still not want to lay hands on me, big guy? My old man would've beaten me half-to-death if I'd played him like this. Not got the stones?"
"No, I haven't. You can go now." The only saving grace of this conversation is that we are communicating. At least we know where we stand with one another. Jason leans back and considers.
"I'll be back for some more details when you're less of a bitch. Later." The boy says before rolling off me and exiting the room without looking back. Moments later, Alfred enters the room. We exchange disconcerted glances. Evidently the old man has not been too far away. Now free of Jason's suffocating presence, I sit up, only for Alfred to push me back to the mattress.
"What do you wish me to do, Sir?" He asks me.
"Whatever it takes for me to recuperate in forty-eight hours. Failing that, I need you to keep a close eye on the boy during his missions. Have you been shadowing him?"
"Yes. Despite his deceptions, the boy did fend off three dozen unscrupulous individuals last night to extract you from the docks. The amount of force that lad can take is extraordinary." Alfred informs me whilst adjusting my bedsheets and checking my bandages.
"What level of medication is he on?"
"Just enough to keep him relaxed without making him dazed." He replies whilst unveiling several different pills from his pocket.
"I need to know exactly how upset he is from the events of the past few days. If he's not in the right frame of mind, this operation will end with tragedy. Think you still have enough pull to talk with him, old friend?" I ask as he helps me swallow down the medicinal cocktail with a tumbler of water. The old man sighs lethargically. I sympathise.
"I will attempt the incredible, Sir. Your next round of medication will be in two hours. Please try to rest until then."
Alfred departs and I close my eyes, already knowing sleep is impossible at this stage. Despite my concussion, I can see Jason has become dangerous. How dangerous depends entirely on what the old man is able to uncover while I am convalescing. I hope for both our sakes, there is still a way to fix this.
Not great, but at least the ball's rolling.