Author's Note: In Afghanistan and decided to continue story out of boredom. Provisionally set to run for between three and four chapters. Here is the first. Enjoy.
Undercover
I wake up to the sound of Bruce and not Al calling my name. It keeps happening more and more now and I don't know whether I like it. Because I don't attend a mainstream school I spend most of my time either in the gym, in Al's lessons, in the cave working on cases or sleeping like I'm dead. Bruce waking me up means either it's early in the morning and he hasn't gone to work yet or it's the middle of the afternoon and he's come home early. In either case, I don't appreciate being disturbed. Before I even bother to open my eyes I ask him for the time with my face mashed into the pillow.
"It's almost three in the afternoon Jason." The big man informs me with more than a little bass in his voice: I'm in trouble for something. I keep my eyes closed as I speak again.
"Do you need me for something?"
"I'd like you to explain this to me."
"Do I have to open my eyes?" I sigh without even trying to lift my head off the pillow. I think I know what he's got in his hand. It's not going to take an amazing defence to shrug it off, but I am a little peeved he's going to bring it up in the first place.
"That would be wise." He says in the same low and ominous tone. I lethargically flip myself over onto my back, prop my body up using my elbows and force my eyes open. I find Bruce in a slightly crumpled suit standing at the foot of my bed and holding the half-smoked joint I decided I didn't want to finish in his hand. His expression is decisively stern. I make the choice to escalate the situation by grinning at him. I gesture at the joint with a half-assed hand and shrug.
"This is what has you pissed this afternoon? Have you been sniffing my jeans again? People will start talking if you keep it up." I inquire rubbing the sleep from my face. The big man's facial expression darkens at my casual approach to what he obviously feels is a sizeable betrayal on my part.
"If I were to search your room, would I find more of this hiding in a drawer or under your mattress?" Oh my god: did I miss this episode of The Brady Bunch? Jeez he sounds clichéd and more to the point, stupid right now. I set him straight.
"This isn't some corny TV sitcom or lifetime movie, Bruce. I know you want to be a better parent to me, but finding a joint and jumping to the conclusion I'm a pot-head is an example of BAD parenting."
"Answer my question Jason: would I find more?" He says looking like he wants to crush the smoking gun for emphasis or effect. I'm not unnerved in the slightest by this: my heart beat is actually slowing down instead of speeding up right now. Because I know I've got nothing to hide here. I tell him the truth and shake my head.
"Nope. That is the first doobie I've smoked in almost five years. I used to like them when I was on the street, but I guess my tastes have changed a little." Bruce's expression morphs from simmering rage to bemusement. He probably thought he knew everything about my sordid little past by now, but my closets are even deeper than his and the skeletons just keep on coming, except this is more like a footnote than a full-on secret. I never hid it from him - he just never asked. I also used to deal a little towards the end of my apprenticeship on Gotham's streets but could never quite get the right kind of offers. People were always more interested in me than my merchandise, big problem in that game. Bruce turns his eyes onto the joint.
"Where did you acquire it?" He says pretending to inspect it when I know he's already gathered enough evidence to know for himself. I think he's embarrassed his conclusion was pretty cut and dry for a man of his calibre. Even though he knows and is not really interested in which small-time dealer is giving dime bags of weed out to dumb kids for twice the street value, I tell him anyway.
"Outside Gotham High School. I know someone."
"Why?" He asks whilst turning his attentions back to me. I don't need to ask for clarification on what he means. He just wants to know why I smoked one after all this time. I shrug nonchalantly.
"I just wondered whether I'd sleep better after having one."
"I see. Nightmares again?"
"Nah, just a little insomnia. I can handle it."
He grunts at me in understanding and flicks the joint into my wastepaper basket from over thirty feet away without even looking. "We'll say no more about it then. I apologize for being slightly too curt with you on the matter." He tells me with a trace of humility that I find both satisfying and amusing at the same time. His apology also means my recreational habits aren't the only topics of discussion. So I cut to the chase.
"It's okay you were just being a hard-ass again. What else did you come to talk to me about?" I ask to make him raise an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"What gave you the impression we had other matters to discuss?" I frown at him and feel a little insulted: the answer's obvious even to a blunt object like me.
"The fact you haven't left yet. What do you want me to do?" I reply shifting my weight so I'm lying on my side and propping my head up using my hand. The big guy rounds the bed until he's standing at the left-hand side of it and then delivers the job with the grace of a brick going through a plate glass window.
"I need you to go undercover in a juvenile gang affiliated to Harvey Dent's new crew. You'll need to gain their trust, infiltrate the gang and learn all you can about Dent's new operations. You'll be away from here for at least six weeks and I'll require daily intelligence reports so I can monitor your progress."
Two-Face has been free from Arkham for almost three weeks. Instead of turning up the day after his breakout with some crime planned around his obsession with the number two, ol' Harv's been in hiding. All his old safe houses haven't been touched at all and the usual suspects for aiding the weirdo in his gangland schemes haven't heard from him either. It's a definite change in the man's M.O, something that makes Bruce anxious. After a fortnight, we were giving up hope of ever finding a lead and then happened to stumble across a youth gang whilst on routine patrols. They only said his name once, but the context of their conversation was enough to convince the big guy that they were his best leads. We've had them under surveillance for the past week and already figured out from their meetings with variable amounts of notorious scum that Two-Face is still in Gotham and that he has a new crew and a new plan. The only thing we're missing is a precise location for Harv. His new guys may be dumb but he's not, even if he does look like a half-chewed eraser. Tailing his crew led nowhere: they seemed to just drop off the face of the Earth after a few minutes of GPS tracking. So the big guy is right when he says these kids, around my age maybe a year or two either side, are our best shot. But I've already made up my mind on the matter.
"No way am I doing that." I tell him without any pause. His jaw tightens in the aftermath but he remains relatively calm.
"And why not?"
"Because I don't do undercover details and you have never once trusted me to do one; you always think I'm going to screw it up for you. Plus the fact that Two-Face murdered my dad, orphaned me and pretty much destroyed my chance at a normal life creates that little dilemma you like to call a 'conflict of interest'. Then there's all that information we got on his new crew members and the fact nearly all of them are convicted child molesters and are probably using this juvenile gang of kids to satisfy themselves on a regular basis. Kids who get raped don't trust or like kids who haven't, especially ones that just happen to turn up out of the blue: they get awfully suspicious. And if all that wasn't enough to sway you, I really don't like the idea that I might get fucked up the ass again for nothing more than to get wind Two-face is planning crimes that focus on the number two. That's why not." I finish whilst gesturing for him to just try and convince me otherwise. Bruce considers something and then nods. He knows I'm right and I'm glad he's not willing to argue the point with me. I think he's having a hard time formulating a sound strategy given how many lives were lost just between Joker and Eddie's fun and games. He was careful and meticulous then and it still ended with a morgue full of victims. He comes and sits on the edge of my bed, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he does. He weighs down the mattress so much I almost roll towards him.
"I suppose I was somewhat rash with my planning at this stage. But it's important that Dent has no indication that Batman is watching him: he has to think we don't know where he is or who his people are. If he does, he'll start killing to take the fight to us and gain the advantage. After Nygma and Joker's recent displays of attrition, I am keen to avoid unnecessary bloodshed." He explains even though I've already heard this a few times in the last week but I get it: the stakes are high, as they always are now. I reach out and put my hand on his forearm.
"Come on Bruce: Two-Face is a total psychopath, yes, but really when it comes down to it he's just another gangster with an M.O we've seen a million times before. He's not as crazy as Joker or as smart as Eddie meaning his box is a lot smaller than either of theirs and he rarely bothers to think outside it because his COIN tells him not to. He's going to lose. He always does." Bruce looks at me and smiles in appreciation of my efforts before I see a flicker of inspiration dance in his eyes for a moment. His smile widens.
"The answer is still to go undercover, but not as someone else. The key part of the intelligence picture is the juvenile gang because they know the location of at least three of Dent's new safe houses. They only run for Dent because they have no alternative: steal or die. No one deals with them because they've got criminal records and live in The Narrows. No one listens to them because they see them as criminals and nothing else. But if they were to find someone who did listen, someone who gave them a chance to earn their money a different way by perhaps some kind of personal work placement scheme…" He says trailing off to ensure I follow his train of thought. I take my hand back and grin.
"So you're going to go undercover as Bruce Wayne? That's a hell of a novelty. Who will I be?" I ask stretching out my spine.
"The boy who warms them to the idea because he's been where they are and know where they're going to end up if they stay the course with criminal behaviour: you're going to be Jason Todd, the reformed juvenile delinquent." He tells me with genuine pleasure at how simple his idea is. I have to ruin the atmosphere with a quip though because I literally just can't help it.
"But I just told you I can't act." Bruce's smile disappears and the familiar frown of disapproval is so quick to return that the change is almost instantaneous.
"Now is not the time for jokes Jason. How would you feel about trying to win them over?"
"It's a hell of a lot safer than risking my ass in a six-week replay of a life I'd rather not repeat. It'll be a piece of cake, Boss-man." He nods at me in what could almost be gratitude. He pats my hand a few times and offers a half-hearted smile.
"Good boy. I think we should begin the planning today and announce the scheme first thing tomorrow morning. I'll need you down in the cave in forty minutes for initial preparation." He gets up and leaves the room without saying another word or looking at me again. I expected as much. Calling me 'boy' and patting my hand is probably as much affection as I'm going to get and it's fine. I don't want or need any more at this stage of my life: I just need a shower.
Even though Two-Face is top priority, that doesn't mean the rest of the criminal underworld takes a vacation to Disneyland until we put him away and since the big man is wrapped up with that tiresome game of catch the costumed crazy again, I've been picking up the slack in the streets on solo patrols. As a consequence, my body is taking a few more knocks than usual and even the water from the shower nozzle feels like it's beating me up as it crashes over newly bruised skin. Once I'm showered I quickly dry and wrap myself in my workout sweats before heading down into the kitchen. I find Al cooking something on the stove.
"You are either a silver-tongued devil or Master Bruce is not overly concerned by your teenage flights of fancy." The old man begins without turning to look at me. "Either way, you seem to have put him in a good mood." Al continues whilst plating whatever he was working on and finally turning towards me. He's made me a huge Spanish omelette with a side order of sweet potato fries and onion chutney. How do I know it's for me? Do you honestly think Bruce is going to order something that nice or fattening at a time like this? Never, but I sure as hell will. I can't help but beam at Al as he wanders over. "To the victor go the spoils, young man." He announces before setting it down at the breakfast bar.
"He didn't fill you in on his master plan Al?" I ask parking my ass on a breakfast stool as the old man hands me a knife and fork.
"No Sir, but I am assuming this bribe will enable you to do so instead." He replies with a sly smile. I feign shock and even decide to affect a stammer to add realism to my performance.
"A-are you s-saying you don't love me e-enough Al to just make me this?" Al looks at me in what can only be described as utter astonishment.
"There are trees in the Amazonian rainforest not yet discovered by man that are less wooden and more believable in their portrayal of emotional pain than you Master Jason. May I ask what possibly motivated you to include that very poor rendition of a stammer?" Ouch. I mean jeez, that was harsh and witty but he really laid the insults on thick. I clutch at my chest like I'm having a heart attack.
"You rip my heart out and then want an explanation? Do you want to feast on my soul for dessert Al or are you too full from sucking out all my self-esteem just now?" He rolls his eyes and nods.
"I will retract my previous statement if the pantomime stops here. What is Master Bruce's idea for snaring Mr Dent?" He says as I begin to devour what has become my breakfast.
"I was actually trying to tell you: he plans to go undercover and act his way to grabbing Two-Face." I tell him whilst trying to swallow what seems like a whole pepper. Al sighs lethargically at the news before taking a seat opposite me.
"He promised he was done with undercover 'stings' for the time being. How long will he be away?"
"Well first he wanted me to get raped to try and get some info on the guy's location but then he thought it would be better if he DIDN'T pimp me out like I'm still a rent boy. Instead he's going to go undercover as some douchebag called Bruce Wayne and use his money to gain trust and then get some info. He wants me to be the keynote speaker too; I play the reformed bad-boy in this production, Jason Todd." Al's face lights up upon hearing this news as it's obviously a total surprise for Bruce's usual repertoire of undercover operations but he feigns disappointment.
"Am I take it then that both you and he will not be casually dropping off the face of the Earth in the next few days?"
"No we will not." I reply whilst dipping a fry in the chutney.
"I will cancel my poker games and champagne parties then." I scoff at the idea of him ever doing something so outlandish.
"You were never going to play poker Al."