Author's note: perhaps this chapter should be rated 'M'. Not for sexual content, though...
Jason sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time—again.
He could still make it over to the gym to pick Jo up from work in time to catch the movie…he just wouldn't have time to take a shower or change.
Or Jo could drive herself over to the theater and he could go home to take a shower instead, then meet her.
I'll ask her, he thought, opening up a blank text message before reconsidering. No, just tell her.
He was beginning his message confirming he'd be there to pick her up when the door opened behind him and Paris Franz strode in.
"Jason, my man."
And what Jason wouldn't have given to punch that slimy smile off his face… "Franz," he nodded with all the false respect he could muster.
"I'm a very busy man, Mr. Todd. You should know that," he sat back on his desk, grabbing his stress ball and squeezing it in the palm of his hand. "So what can I do for you? Whatever it is, I hope it will be worth my while."
"I need a job," Jason said quickly, trying to be mindful of the time. "I can go back to bouncing, that's fine, I just need to supplement my income a bit."
Paris raised an eyebrow. "Found yourself a nasty habit?" He chuckled. "What is it? You into that new synthetic shit?"
"No, it's nothing like that," Jason straightened his jacket. "I've just got a girl living with me now and my place is a dump. I'm looking for an upgrade."
"On the girl or the place?" Paris laughed. "I guess a little extra income could get you both."
"Nah," I think we're at like maximum upgrade there. "You know that girl you always see Damian Wayne with on the gossip rags?"
"Mmm…" Paris narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Ginger?"
Strawberry blonde. "Yeah, that's my girl."
Paris laughed. "I'm gonna be honest with you here, Man: that's fucking wack. She must be seriously fucked in the head. But, hey, you know what they say about the crazy ones…"
"Yeah, I need a job, Franz. That's why I'm here." Jason snapped. "You got something for me or what?"
"OK, OK, struck a nerve there," Paris chuckled, putting his hands up to keep Jason at arm's length should he choose to punch him. "Yeah, you can bounce, but we've adopted some new policies since you left."
"Like…?" Jason prompted.
Paris circled around his desk, typing a code that opened the safe in the wall behind it. "Like these," he said, tossing Jason what looked like a credit card sleeve. "Your quota is $2,500 a week. Athletes—high school and collegiate—are your main targets, but if you're going to sell them at the club, do it out back. The goal is to keep this looking like a legitimate business."
"What are they?" Jason asked, emptying the contents of the small package into his palm. "Nicotine patches?"
"We call them Slappers," Paris told him, sitting back in his chair. "They'll help you feel like a man again."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well…" Paris put his feet up on the desk and leaned back. "6 years ago you came in here and told Cobblepot you were done with this whole scene. Gave some 'honest man' speech, thanked us for our time, walked out…and yet, here you are…back in this office…" there was something cruel in his smile. "She must be incredible in the sack."
Do people even say that anymore? "Your point?"
"You seem a little whipped, my friend, that's all," he shrugged. "Might do you some good to assert some dominance."
God, he's such a fucking prick. "Thanks for the relationship advice, Cosmo," Jason gritted, standing up. "Just give me something to sign and I'll start tomorrow."
Jo was standing in the lobby of the gym discussing something of seemingly great importance when Jason pulled up.
She didn't hear him, and he didn't have a horn to honk, so he sighed, shutting off the bike and setting his helmet down before heading inside.
"—heat, ice, shoulder rotations," Jo was saying to a girl Jason guessed was about 12. "Whatever you have to do to come in fresh tomorrow—make it happen. Practice makes perfect and you're far from perfect on the bars."
"It's because my wrist still hurts!" the girl defended herself.
"That cast came off three months ago and I've been working with you on grip ever sense," Jo told her, her tone stern. "You're afraid your wrist will hurt, or you're afraid you'll get hurt again—look, I get it, it's a totally rational fear, but visualizing that stuff, obsessing over it—that's just going to increase the likelihood it happens again. You want to get back in rotation, right?"
"Well…yeah," the girl mumbled, staring down at her sneakers.
"Alright, good," Jo smiled. "We want to get you back in there too, but we can't move forward until you have."
"Hey," Jason stepped in, haste in his tone, as that conversation seemed somewhat finished.
Jo nearly jumped out of her skin, but placed her hand over her heart when she saw it was him. "Jesus Christ, Jay," she laughed. "You scared the crap outta me." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and the girl began to giggle.
"Coach, is that your boyfriend?"
"Darn it, you've picked up on our incredibly subtle clues," Jo teased. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow for bar warmups."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the girl grinned, waving her off. "Coach's got a boyfriend, coach's got a boyfriend."
"Yes, it's quite the scandal," Jo acknowledged as the girl stole one more look at Jason before snickering and walking out the front door. "She's cute," Jo smiled, turning to him. "And 12, so if you're looking to trade me in for a younger model…"
Jason sighed. "Should'a seen that one coming."
"Here," Jo handed him the duffle bag that was slung over her shoulder. "There's a change of clothes in there for you, figured you might be late so I thought I'd cover all our bases."
"What is it?" he asked, cautiously eyeing the bag as he took it from her.
"Jeans and a t-shirt. When have you ever worn anything else? Now hurry up and change," she shooed him towards the restrooms. "The previews are my favorite part."
Jason had been working for Franz a week when he first saw someone actually use a Slapper.
He was a big guy naturally, one of the other bouncers on Jason's shift. The guy was tired, he'd been working since the sun went down and it was nearly sun-up at this point. So he reached into his pocket and pulled out his stash—the product he was supposed to sell—and slapped one of that patches onto his arm.
"Hey, Man," Jason got his attention, "if you wanna piss Franz off, don't do it around me. Getting shot in an alley isn't how I'm planning to go out."
"How am I supposed to recommend the product to my costumers of I can't vouch for it myself?" the bouncer asked, wincing slightly as the veins in his forearm below the patch pulsed.
…In another two weeks, Jason tried one himself.
Franz had asked him to take a guy out back…and Jason just happened to know this guy had ties to a whore house down in Central Gotham…one that specialized in trafficked minors. Jason wasn't super into that. And—for the record—he didn't exactly know Jo was 15 when they first hooked up. She seemed older, looked older…he'd just assumed she was a senior. Sure, he probably should have shut it down when he got the full picture…but he liked her, and she acted relatively mature, so—fuck it, I don't have to explain myself, she's 18 now anyway. Get off my ass.
Anyway, Jason had seen how people changed when they had a Slapper on. They got stronger, faster…angrier, sometimes…not that Jason needed any help with that, but the truth was, he was tired too. Working from 8 until 5 every day, and then going back to work at night was killing him. But it would all be worth it, eventually. He could just picture Jo's stupid, happy, impressed expression on the day that Jason would hand her the keys to their new house. Yeah, that's right, a fucking house. And then her sister would stop calling every two seconds or shitting on him every time they were forced to be in the same room. God, he hated that bitch, she and her stupid, rich prick of a husband. Why Jo was pictured with Damian more than his wife was, Jason had no idea, he guessed dolphin training was a time consuming profession.
So Jason yanked the guy outside, throwing him onto the ground before reaching into his pocket. With a deep breath that he tried to keep as subtle as possible, he dipped into his supply.
It hurt, a bit, at the application site. The skin tingled and burned while his veins pulsed, drinking in whatever sort of poison was in that shit.
Jason had kicked somebody's teeth in before, but he'd never literally curb-stomped a guy…that was a new and interesting experience…but Franz tipped him for the extra damage, so everything ended up working out alright.
That morning, after his shift, he somehow still had energy. In fact, he might have even classified his mood as "good", so he dropped by the store on his way home and picked up a box of chocolates for Jo that he had to force himself not to eat while he waited for her to get back from her morning coaching session.
"Fuck, I am starving," she said as she opened the front door. "I know I have to go shopping, but do we have—like—any food? Any at all?" she tossed her keys onto the counter and her bag onto the couch. "Did I mention I hate adulting?"
"Yeah, once or twice, maybe," he held up the chocolates for her.
"Wha—are you shitting me right now?" she asked, taking the box from his hand. "Please don't tell me I'm going to open this and just find a bunch of wrappers." She shook it, and her face lit up with a happy grin. "Heart chocolates at 7am? What did I do to deserve you, my prince?"
He shrugged casually, "I don't know—but…I know how you can repay me…" he pulled her down onto his lap.
"Fine, fine," she nodded, leaning down to kiss him. "But can I eat the chocolates first? Or during, if I have to?"
"Can you just give me like 10 minutes?" Jason asked.
"So…what you're saying is I get chocolate instead of an orgasm." she looked disappointed.
"If you shut up and let me get started, you can have both."
"Hooray!" Jo cheered.
Jo was funny. And not just 'funny ha ha', like…funny in the head, maybe. That's something Jason learned about her after she moved in.
She was chaotic…but that fact seemed to stress her out. She didn't like doing the dishes or cleaning the house, but when it wasn't done, it made her uncomfortable. She'd glance at the mess and tap her foot nervously until she finally caved…but then she would still manage to half-ass it.
This is the type of shit Jason had never cared to notice before, but his diet of one Slapper per day was helping him see more. Funny what a little extra energy can do for you.
Jo texted with her brother a lot…he and his girlfriend were having a baby, evidently, and he sent a lot of pictures. Ultra sound photos, pictures of the crib or the clothes he was buying, or his girlfriend's growing stomach…Jo loved those. She showed every one to Jason with a beaming smile on her face. Honestly, he could really care less, but he tried his best to humor her because when he didn't, she got pissed.
It wasn't that Jo was an unhappy or an angry person by default, no…her typical setting was happy. Sarcastic and bitter, sure, but she didn't seem to hate herself or hate her life…and she certainly didn't seem to hate Jason, which was always a relief for him. No, Jo just had thin skin. She could go 0 to 60 in a millisecond and could hold a grudge like nobody's business. They were similar in that way. Jason wasn't as quick to anger, but he could hold onto it longer. Hold it over her head if he needed to.
Jo also made a point to talk to her Mom at least twice a week. Sometimes in person, sometimes on the phone…the only member of her family that she didn't seem to talk to regularly was her sister, who—at the beginning—tried to get in touch with her more than the rest of them combined, and that always managed to throw off Jo's mood. Recently, though, the calls had been coming less frequently. Which was better, Jason decided. Better for him and better for Jo.
She'd come home with a plant pretty soon after moving in. He didn't know what kind, but it had red flowers and it sat by their bed when she slept. She always put it in the closet when they had sex, and when her sister would call, she'd pluck a petal off of it and crinkle it in her fingers, studying her hands as she did.
Yeah…Jo was funny…and a total bitch, but she typically ended up on his side, so what did he care? Not like he was any better. Well, he was slightly better on Slappers, that was for sure. Maybe even a decent boyfriend, actually. He sort of…liked coming home at the end of the day knowing there would be someone there who cared about him, despite what her family thought…she loved him enough to choose him—sometimes over them…and yeah, he didn't want to get all sappy about it, but he liked this. He liked their life, he liked himself. Well, this version of himself, anyway.
The problem Jason was running into was that—like with anything else—his body seemed to be building up an immunity to what he was taking, so after a month, he was forced to up his Slapper consumption to two a day, and then eventually to three at the same time. He was tired otherwise, lethargic…and worst of all, he couldn't get—umm—excited. Not without a Slapper…and then not without two…and not without three…or four…
And the rage he felt because of it was something he didn't know how to bottle up inside. He was 25 years old! This shouldn't be a problem! Besides that, he was going into his stash so often now that he was going to come up short of this month's quota.
His fuse was short, his anger intense, and though he did his best to hide it from Jo, it was becoming impossible. Every sound, every color, every word...he couldn't stand any of it. It was like everyone and everything had an ice pick that they were using to burrow through his ear…into his head…and they were hammering from the inside now. All day and all night.
That morning, he needed 5 just to get out of bed.
/
"Hey!" Jo greeted when she heard the front door slam shut. She was on her knees, her head buried under the sink, but she felt pretty confident it was Jason, and if not…she could probably kick their ass. Besides, they didn't have anything cool to steal, so she wasn't sure why anyone would bother trying to rob them. "This sink won't drain. Do we have any Drano or anything?"
"No," yeah, that was Jason…and he didn't sound super happy. Great. What else is new?
"OK," Jo said, knocking on the pipe with the crowbar from the toolbox, trying her best to determine where it was clogging. "You think you could go out and get some before you head to work? I was gonna take a nap."
"Don't just fucking bang on it, you idiot," Jason snarled.
"Well I'm sorry I'm not a licensed plumber, asshole," Jo laughed, backing herself out and standing up, getting her first look at him since this morning. He seemed awfully…jittery, clenching and unclenching his fist, his jaw tight, his pupils dilated… "Are you alright?" she asked, somewhere between cautious and critical. "You look fucking insane right now."
He moved suddenly, digging his fingers into her hips and shoving her against the sink, then moving in to kiss and bite her neck.
"Dude, what are you doing?" she laughed, attempting to push him away. "Look, Man, if you wanted to try again, that's—ow! What are you, a fucking vampire?"
He grabbed her hands, forcing them down to her sides before pressing his body against hers and trying to plunge his hand down her jeans.
"Jay, knock it off!" she slapped him across the face. "Geez, I mean, I'm down for alotta shit, but buy a girl a drink first."
His response was to grab her by the shoulders and slam her onto the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She'd never known him to be this strong, or this rough…or not to take a very clear 'NO' for an answer.
His breathing was labored and shallow, sweat had accumulated on his brow, and yeah, he did look insane, like a guy that belonged in a straitjacket up at Arkham Asylum.
"Jay! Jay, stop!" Jo was starting to panic at this point. It was like he couldn't even hear her…and despite her training and her athleticism, she couldn't get out of the hold he had her in either.
He grabbed her hands and yanked her arms above her head, pinning them to the ground so that he could rip the neck of her tank top down and expose her bra.
Anxious tears were gathering in Jo's eyes as the attempted to free herself by thrashing her lower body. She couldn't even see him anymore. He wasn't even there. His gaze was crazed and blank and she had no idea what was going, but this was by far the most frightening experience of her life, even after 3 years of being Batgirl. "Get off of me!" she screamed.
Jason took one of his hands away from her arms to unbutton his pants, and despite his (currently) superior strength, her adrenaline helped her to wrench one of her arms free. Her hand closed around the only object she could reach, and she conked him in the head with it.
It was cold and metal and he grunted in pain when it made contact, so she swung again, connecting with his skull once more.
The second blow sent him into a daze, and in a moment, Jo had reversed their positions and swung 6 more times in rapid succession, each blow doing more damage.
She didn't stop when she saw blood, or when it splashed onto her face, or when his eyeball began to come loose from its socket…It was when he stopped moving and twitching below her that her swings slowed before ultimately coming to a stop.
The only sound in the room was her breathing…and then the clanking of metal on the tile floor when Jo dropped the crowbar.
"What the fuck?" she whispered, hoarsely. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!" She scurried off of his body, backing herself into the corner of the room. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"
She looked down at her bloodied hands and her breathing sped up again, tears spilling down her cheeks in her panic and confusion. When she blinked, her tears sprinkled her chest and she realized her shirt was still pulled below her bra. Sniffing, she yanked it up, almost vomiting when she braved another glance over at the body.
Her chest heaved as she sunk down to the floor, now unable to take her eyes off of the carnage splattered all over their kitchen, but her attention flew to the door when she heard it creak open.
"Jolene…"