The plane spun to the left as two more drones bore down on the boys. Starfire levitated about them catching her breath, relatively unharmed. The two remaining paid her no attention, focusing fully on the plane that was now leaking fuel.

As Nightwing braced for another roll, a call came through the communicator. "What is it?" he yelled over the roar of lasers and warning chimes.

"It's Arsenal," the other man said. "Jason's flipping out. He says Deathstroke is in his head. We can't see him and I'm kind of at a loss here. We need you guys."

Nightwing let out a frustrated growl. "We're a little bit preoccupied here. We've got unmanned aircraft troubles. How long has he been freaking out, and how real is this threat?"

"It's real! He's not crazy. Okay, well, he's not that crazy. Drop the toys and get back over here."

"We can't," Batman said. "They're threatening Gotham, we have to stay here. Get Red Hood out of the area and that will probably calm his mind."

There was a pause, the sound of running in the background. "I-I'm not with him."

"What?"

"He told me Deathstroke had to be close by! I'm running around trying to find this guy."

"Get back over there and get him out of the area!" Batman bellowed, probably deafening Arsenal on the other line. Careful, Bruce, Nightwing's cynical side thought to himself, your fatherly affections are showing.

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Arsenal yelled back, just as panicked. "He's not leaving. Apparently Deathstroke said the symptoms we haven't uncovered yet from the drug are going to kill him. He wants to know what, and he's stubborn enough to pull a gun and tell me to run. He's Red Hood; I thought you knew this kid! He does whatever he wants!" Arsenal panted for air for a second before resuming his run on the rooftops. Encroaching darkness wasn't helping; Green Arrow was more of a daytime vigilante, and Roy had been too busy scoring drugs at night to ever get used to the dark.

"Kid," Nightwing repeated, lost inside himself even with the chaos around him. "Just a kid. He just turned 21." Nightwing blinked, didn't even brace himself for the twists and turns of the dogfight he was in. When did Jason stop being a kid to him? If anything, he should still be that 16 year old that annoyed the crap out of him. But, somehow, Jason had become older; the farther away he was, the easier it was to not think about how young he had been when he died, or how old he was now. Jason was young, and scared, and they had left him. "Screw Gotham!" he finally yelled. "If it was Tim, I would go. If it was Damian, if it was you, if it was Barbara, I would be gone in a heartbeat. Why the Hell would I debate this because it's Jason? We're turning around! Let the GCPD handle this!"

Batman opened his mouth to speak, but another voice interrupted from the comm link. It was Jason, his voice incredibly small and weak, and it filtered through just over the static of the transmission. "Bruce?" Batman stopped paying attention to anything other than the voice, his mind once again screaming my son, my son. All training, all focus was gone as he waited for Jason's impossibly strained voice to speak again.

"It hurts," he whimpered. All pride was gone; he was just a lost little bird waiting for his father. He was always just a lost bird waiting for his father.

The force exerted when Batman turned the plane around made Nightwing's head spin.

"We have enough gas to get there, thankfully," he said quietly, more to himself than to the obviously preoccupied man sitting next to him. Batman only sped up. Nightwing looked warily behind him, hoping the Gotham police wouldn't have too hard of a time taking care of the problem in their airspace, when he realized Kori was staying behind.

"I will assist here, and then I will help Jason," she said through the communicator, and Nightwing expressed his gratitude to her before turning to Batman.

"Whatever Deathstroke is planning, we'll stop it," he reminded.

Under the cowl, Bruce was dripping with sweat and fear. He felt the need to contradict Nightwing's statement, but didn't know why. "I've been too late for him before."

Dick knew that was the truth.