Oh man you guys, I have such big plans in store it's not even funny.

Jason scowled, rounding another corner. He was really getting sick of stray ads and small cut up porn pictures getting stuck to his shoe due to the slush. Did people really have to just throw their crap all over the streets?

The answer was yes. This was Gotham, after all. Dirt and grunge and whatever else coated the city like metal to a magnet. There was no escaping it. He gave up calling for the devil's child, figuring it was better to just sneak up on the brat and maybe casually put his knife to his throat.

It wouldn't hurt to apply a little pressure, either, just as punishment for running off like a moron in the middle of the night when they were supposed to stay put—on second thought, why was he bothering with some rules put on him by a wannabe thirteen year old superhero in tights?

Damian had the right idea. Jason smirked and decided to enjoy this little stroll. Then the reality of the situation hit him. Damian was just a kid, a brat, but still a kid. There were always dangerous criminals running around at this time of night. Damian would have no way of protecting himself.

If Damian died Bruce would never let them out of the house again.

Oh yeah, that's why he was obeying Golden Boy's rules. He was going to show Golden Boy up, do him one better and catch more criminals than he ever had. That was the plan, and unless he found Damian, the plan was screwed over.

"Stupid ass kid," Jason growled, "gonna beat his ass into tomorrow."

"Is that a threat, Todd?" came a growl from behind him.

"It's a promise, you little shit! What the hell do you think you're doing? You don't remember the plan at all, do you?"

"I'm done with waiting. Grayson isn't doing it right. As soon as I find him, I'll show him exactly what to do."

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're so stupid. There's a reason why we make him teach us all this crap. He's got the Batcave, remember? He's got all the fancy little toys and we don't. Unless you want Dad to lock us all up, you better follow my ass back to that roof. With any luck, Timmy will be smart enough to stop looking and return to base."

"So that's why, huh?"

Jason turned around to see Robin sitting on the top of a lamp post, a deep scowl on his face.

"I thought it was just a bit of curiosity." Robin's tone reached a dangerous sarcastic. "You know, the whole I-want-to-see-what-my-almost-brother-does type of curiosity."

"Yeah?" Jason shot back. "Well it's not. It's the teach-me-how-to-do-all-this-so-I-can-kick-your-ass sort of curiosity. You're not the only one who can do this, you know."

"No, really?" Dick bit back sarcastically. "I totally hadn't figured that out."

"Grayson, you're being insufferable. Explain yourself." Damian demanded, crossing his arms.

"I'm not the only one, you know. There are plenty of others without super powers doing the exact same thing. I was just the first sidekick, the first partner. It was Bruce who was first, you know. He's the one who showed everyone he could do this. I don't think you guys really understand what being a hero really is."

"Then why don't you tell us?" Jason's eyes narrowed. This kid was pissing him off, playing all high and mighty.

"You think it's fun to be shot at every night? How about getting your ribs broken at least once a month? This job isn't easy and if you don't know what you're doing, you end up dead. I'm not playing around out here, I'm fighting for lives."

"There's no reason why we can't do the same, Golden Boy."

Robin jumped off of the street lamp, landing perfectly on the ground. "Are you even listening to me? I didn't just become Robin, I trained as hard as I could for months! Even then, it took me another two to convince Bruce I was ready for this. And you know what? I got my ass handed to me so many times—I've almost died at least three and don't even get me started on how long it took for Gotham's baddies to even take me seriously."

"So train us." Jason said, completely serious.

"Train you." Dick repeated, giving him a skeptical look. "I can't even—I can't even lead my own team. Training would be useless for you. I'm not that great at leading anyone."

"So learn, Grayson." Damian answered haughtily.

"Okay, rule number one, no names out on the streets." Robin stepped forward and leered down at Damian. "The second the bad guys learn your name, it's over. Not only will they hunt you down, but they'll nab whoever is closest to you. Do you want Bruce to die? What about Martha and Thomas? Alfred? Your school friends? Your brothers? Out here I'm Robin, and only Robin, got it?"

Damian didn't say anything, but Dick could tell the message had gotten through to the boy.

"Fine, I'll train you; but you listen to me, and you listen good. Any stunts like this again and you're out. Finished. If I find you out here after you've been given the shaft, I'll take you out." Dick paused. "That's exactly what Batman told me when I convinced him to let me go with him. I knew he meant every word."

Jason shook his head and smiled. "Doesn't sound like the old man at all."

"No, it doesn't." Dick agreed. "This Bruce is different. He's kind and he smiles way too much."

"What about Batman?"

"Never smiles, never laughs, and is always to the point." Robin smiled himself. "He is the dark, he is the night, he is vengeance, he is Batman."

"Sounds hardcore."

"Sounds stupid." Damian disagreed. "What was Father thinking? Batman?"

Robin opened his mouth to say more, but a loud cry echoed out.

"Tim." Jason confirmed, taking off immediately. "Shit, if he…"

"Grab on! We're flying." Dick pulled out his grappling hook and shot it, feeling two pairs of arms wrap around him quickly before the pull of the hook took them up into the air and swung them around various brick buildings.