The moment the Batplane comes to a stop on the landing strip within the Batcave Tim stands, pulling Jason to his feet. Bruce jumps down as Tim and Jason get to the edge of the open cockpit, watching as Jason swings a shaky leg over the side of the plane. Shifting slightly, Jason loosens his grip on Tim, but instead of finding his balance he begins plummeting towards the concrete. Bruce lunges forward, catching Jason and helping him stand.
"Jason?" Tim cries out, jumping over the side of the plane to the ground.
Jason blinks heavily, giving a weak cough. "Ever'thing's…spinning…"
"It's the smoke inhalation," Bruce says grimly. "Come on, let's get you over to Dr. Leslie."
The three make their way to where Dr. Leslie and Alfred are tending to Dick, who is lying in a narrow hospital bed in the medical bay section of the cave.
Both Dr. Leslie and Alfred raise their heads at the approaching footsteps, and – to Jason and Tim's surprise – Dick as well.
"Dick?" A relieved smile spreads across Tim's face as he rushes forward.
"Hey Timmy," Dick says quietly, his voice hoarse. An oxygen mask still covers his nose and mouth, though this one is from the medical bay's equipment, having replaced the portable one Jason had put on him. Bandages wrap around Dick's left forearm, as well as his bare torso. The scratches covering his face and arms have antibiotic cream lathered over them, but otherwise remain untouched, as they're too thin or small to require bandages.
Dick drowsily lifts his eyes to Jason, who is still hanging onto Bruce. "Jay?" he asks in concern.
Jason shakes his head. "Just…smoke…in'lation…." He gives another small cough.
"Bruce, bring him here," Dr. Leslie instructs, gesturing to a second hospital bed she's set up to the left of Dick.
Bruce helps Jason onto the bed before stepping back, giving Dr. Leslie room to work. Dr. Leslie moves swiftly, replacing the respirator on Jason's face with one from the medical bay. Then she's checking his eyes, which are bloodshot from the smoke, and taking his wrist into her hands, checking his pulse.
"I'm going to give you the same antibiotics I gave Dick to treat his smoke inhalation," Dr. Leslie says. She goes over to a worktable and tugs a drawer open, pulling out a fresh hypodermic needle and a syringe, which she quickly fills with the proper antibiotic. "Then I'm going to get a chest x-ray and take some blood tests to check your blood count and carboxyhemoglobin and methemoglobin levels. Okay?"
"Sure," Jason mumbles, resting his head back.
The syringe ready, Dr. Leslie comes back over to Jason's side. "I'm assuming you have a headache?"
"Yeah. Feels like –" Jason makes a small grimace as the needle is pressed into his skin, injecting him with the antibiotics. "– my skull is being split open."
Dr. Leslie nods. "I'm not surprised." She walks back over to the worktable, disposing of the used needle and plucking a damp washcloth from a bowl of water Alfred had brought down.
Bruce moves closer to Dick, eyeing the bandages with concern. "How are the burns?"
Dick shrugs. "No third degree burns – just first and second. I was farther away from the blast, so I didn't get hit as bad by it."
"Dick will make a full recovery from his injuries, and the scarring should be minimal," Dr. Leslie says assuredly. Back at Jason's side, she lays the cool washcloth against Jason's forehead to help ease his headache. Some of the tension in Jason's body relaxes at the reliving touch, and his eyes droop shut wearily. Dr. Leslie watches Jason for a moment, then looks back up at Dick. "Dick is fortunate; the burns look worse than they really are. Though I'm sure he'll be back on patrol long before the necessary healing time frame is up." She frowns at Dick in exasperation, to which Dick gives another shrug.
"Come on, Dr. Leslie," he grins. "You know you can't keep a good man down for long."
Tim gives a loud snort.
Looking amused, Dick glances over at Jason. His smile falters ever so slightly. "Jay?"
Jason's eyes flicker open.
Dick's brow creases with worry. "You alright?"
"Yeah," Jason answer, his voice soft. "Just tired."
But a deeper look at Jason is all Dick needs to see that it's not just exhaustion that is darkening Jason's mood. He frowns, but decides not to press the matter further, knowing Jason would never confide in him with such a large audience present.
Tim groans, tugging off his domino mask. "I'm gonna go change," he mutters.
"Come back down here immediately afterwards," says Dr. Leslie. "I want to monitor you for at least an hour; I know you had your respirator on, but I want to be sure. Bruce, you too."
Tim nods and gives a teasing salute. "You know best, doc." Stretching his arms, he turns and heads towards his elevator.
An hour and a half later, after having run final checkups on everyone, Dr. Leslie heads home. Tim and Bruce have been declared fine, and Dick and Jason are allowed to take off their oxygen masks. Dick's voice is still raw, making it difficult for him to speak for long periods of time, but Jason's cough has, for the most part, dissipated.
Bruce, unsurprisingly, goes right back to work. With Tim sitting between Dick and Jason's beds in the medical bay, the three watch as Bruce works, compiling any information he can find on Harley Quinn and the incident today she is responsible for.
Alfred brings down soup for everyone, but Bruce ignores his as he finally turns from the computer and makes his way over to the medical bay, where the boys and Alfred wait.
"There were forty children and ten volunteers involved in the fire at the foster home," Bruce says grimly. "So far, police and medical documents have reported fifteen injured and eight dead." He rubs a hand across his eyes. "Harley is back at Arkham; the rest of her accomplices are at Blackgate Penitentiary."
"Yes, I'm sure Harley will stay put," Jason mutters.
Bruce frowns at Jason. "Nevertheless, this is all that can be done about the situation right now." He focuses his gaze on Tim. "Tim, I know you're probably tired from today's events, but we still need to go on patrol tonight."
"I know," says Tim.
Bruce nods. "We'll leave in an hour."
Jason straightens in his bed. "I can go too, Bruce."
Bruce shakes his head. "Jason, I'd prefer it if you stayed here. At least for a few hours longer. Maybe later tonight you can go. But not in an hour."
"But –"
"Not in an hour."
A frown crosses Jason's face, but Bruce's warning glare is much more fierce. "Stay here with Dick. I'll contact you later tonight when I decide that it's fine for you to leave." Before Jason has a chance to argue further, Bruce turns away and heads towards the elevators, leaving the three boys in the cave.
An hour passes and soon enough the Batmobile is roaring out of the cave with Batman and Robin inside. The moment the car is gone Jason swings his legs over the side of the hospital bed, jumping down to the cold floor of the cave.
"Where are you going?" asks Dick, sitting up. "Jason, you heard what Bruce said."
"All I got was some smoke inhalation," Jason replies irritably. "I just needed to lie down for a while, and now my headache is gone and I feel fine. I'm not going to just sit around because Bruce said so."
"Jay…"
Ignoring Dick, Jason makes his way over to the massive computer on the cave's far wall. He drops into the desk chair and in seconds has the police and hospital records up from today's incident.
Fourteen injured and nine dead. Someone must have died at the hospital of their injuries. Anxiety nipping at him, Jason searches for one name: Emily.
Her file is easy enough to find. Emily Louise Weinstein. Eight years old. Injuries include third degree burns on right arm, third and second degree burns on the right side of the torso, smoke inhalation, and a concussion. Patient is in critical condition and is being kept in the ICU.
She's still alive. Comes Jason's relieved thoughts. She's hurt, but she's alive. He breathes deeply, closing his eyes as he runs his hands through his hair.
A long moment passes, and then Jason refocuses on the computer, typing in new commands. Multiple patient files are brought up, all of the victims from the fire today.
The first one to come up is of Anthony Porter. Jason frowns at the familiar name; he was the little boy Amber had carried out. According to the medical files, he had died at the hospital only forty-five minutes ago after succumbing to severe burns and smoke inhalation.
Jason rests his elbows on the computer desk, pressing his folded hands to his mouth as he stares at the document declaring Anthony's death. According to the records, he was only five years old. Gritting his teeth, Jason looks further into the other victims' files.
Joaquin. Seven years old. Died of severe burns.
Elise. Twelve years old. Died of smoke inhalation.
Luis. Four years old. Died of blast trauma and severe burns.
Ramona. Ten years old. Died of blast trauma and asphyxiation.
On and on the list goes, documenting both the dead and the injured. With every one Jason reads he feels himself get sicker. He wants to vomit. He wants to scream.
He wants to kill every monster responsible for this.
He wants them to feel the same terror those kids felt. Feel the same pain, the same hopelessness. He wants them to know firsthand what it had felt like to die scared and alone.
That would be justice.
A small notification alarm goes off in the bottom right-hand corner of the computer monitors. It's an alert system Bruce uses to keep track of police and emergency responder communication lines. Jason clicks on it, and a small textbox appears.
FIRE BREAKOUT AT BLACKGATE PENITENTIARY. EMERGENCY RESPONSE IN ROUTE.
A fire? At Blackgate? Jason's brow creases at the news. Then realization strikes him, and a sudden determination takes hold. This is his chance. Within the chaos caused by the fire, he might be able to finally rid the world of some of the scum responsible for today's horrors. If he's careful enough, he should be able to do it without being seen by the emergency responders.
It might just work.
Springing to his feet, Jason rushes back to the medical bay, where his Gotham Knight jacket and helmet are laying on a table.
"Jay?" Dick asks, lifting his head groggily. Due to the pain meds Dr. Leslie gave him for the burns, he's only been getting sleepier as the hours have passed.
"Go to sleep, Dick," says Jason, pulling on his jacket. He gives a small cough. "I'll be home later."
"But Bruce…"
"Can go screw himself." Jason tugs his helmet over his head. Then he's sprinting to where his motorcycle waits, ignoring Dick's call for him. Seconds later he's speeding out of the Batcave, heading for Blackgate Penitentiary.
Twilight casts a soft glow over the darkening sky as Jason races along the deserted road leading away from Wayne Manor. The wind whips against him, tearing at his jacket and body as he accelerates, urging his bike to go faster. He has to make it to Blackgate before the fire is under control. Otherwise he'll never be able to do what he's about to do unseen.
For the slightest instant, doubt touches his thoughts. What is he doing? This is against everything Bruce had taught him, raised him to be.
But the necessity of violence to end an even worse violence is what Gotham taught him. It's a lesson beaten into him by men like his father and monsters like the Joker. He knows that people like them will never stop. There will always be victims if criminals like them are left alive. There are nine people dead today as proof of that.
Only death can protect the innocents from their wrath.
Jason arrives at Blackgate in less than fifteen minutes. He hides his bike in some overgrown shrubbery, and then launches himself through the trees and over the entrance gate, which has been left unattended by the majority of security due to the fire raging throughout the prison.
Half of the west wing is engulfed in flames. GCPD and firefighters run amongst the chaos, trying to put out the fire and usher both the staff and the inmates to safety. The prisoners being rescued are put into armed trucks parked just outside of the west gate. The heat and smoke is stifling, even for Jason in his helmet.
Keeping to the shadows, Jason presses a button on his gauntlet that opens up a keypad and hologram screen. Typing with his other hand, he breaks into Blackgate's files in less than a minute.
"Gotcha," he whispers, pulling up the files for Harley's men that had been brought in today. They had been put into the Division C Cells, Level 2, West Wing. Jason raises an eyebrow at the coincidence of the men's location. Reverting the keypad and screen back into his gauntlet, Jason makes his way towards the burning building.
The fire is a perfect distraction; he has almost no problem sneaking to the eastern wall of the building, which is just outside of the fire's range. The door has been unlocked in its emergency state, and so all Jason has to do is crouch behind a short half-wall and wait for two firemen to leave before slipping inside.
Jason hadn't arrived at Blackgate much longer after the emergency vehicles had, and so there are still many prisoners waiting for release from their cells from the section of the West Wing not yet consumed by the flames.
Waiting is a loose term for it. Screams of panic and desperation echo down the hall from the cells, where waving hands reach through the bars, begging for release. Jason edges closer, but stops and presses against the wall as a group of two guards and two firefighters come bursting into the hall from the opposite end, weapons raised and handcuffs out to start transporting the prisoners.
Turning away, Jason heads towards the source of the fire. He has this gut feeling that somehow, that's where he'll find Harley's men. The sweltering heat intensified with every step, and though his helmet filters out the smoke, but it does little to keep him cool, making it hell as he winds his way to the Division C Cells.
"All those on ground level! Ground level officers, we have an escapee from Rescue Squad B – Level 2 of West Wing!"
Jason tilts his head, listening to the shout echoing through the police communication lines he had tapped into. "Alright then," he mutters. "Let's go."
Bolting to the left, Jason slams a door open that leads into a hall delving even further into the West Wing. He runs along, using his scanners to detect anyone who might be hidden within the shadows of the halls, which are only lit with red emergency lights. Most of this section of the building has already been evacuated though, and after a few seconds Jason wonders if perhaps the escapee had gone somewhere else.
Then he hears the thudding of frantic footsteps. Jason spins in the direction of the sound and bursts through the door opening up to the eastern staircase.
Hurrying down the stairs, with his back to Jason, is a prisoner.
He's alone, and his orange jumpsuit is filthy with both sweat and ash. Jason grabs onto the staircase's railing, propelling himself over it and twisting around so that he lands on the steps below – directly in front of the prisoner. The prisoner jumps back in shock, staring at the Gotham Knight.
Jason's eyes widen. This is the very man that had thrown the Molovtov cocktail into the library window. Not the one he had fought, but the second one; the one who had succeeded in setting the library ablaze. Searing rage explodes within Jason's chest. This is the man responsible for that boy Anthony's death. For the injuries Emily has. And for who knows what other causalities. Gritting his teeth in fury, Jason steps forward.
"Trying to escape?" the Gotham Knight hisses. "Like the coward you are?"
"N-no," sputters the man. He stumbles back up a few steps, widening the distance between him and the Knight. "A beam fell between me and the guard. I panicked and ran off. I was just trying to get outside; I wasn't trying to escape!"
"So you left an innocent man to die?" snarls Jason. He wraps a hand in the front of the man's jumpsuit, pulling him close. "Just like you left those kids?"
The thug struggles to pull away. "I was just doing my job!"
"Yeah, well so am I." Jason throws the man to the stairs and slams his boot down on the thug's ankle. There's a sickening crack, and the man lets out an agonized cry.
Immediately Jason is on the man, driving his fists into the man's face over and over. Blood splatters onto Jason's helmet and gloves, and the sound of bone crunching mixes in with the solid thuds of the hits.
All Jason can see is red. Blood red. Of the children who have died on his watch. Of the people who have suffered for far too long in Gotham. Of his own blood that the Joker ripped from him.
Red, red, red.
"Knight! Knight, stop!"
Hands clamp down on Jason's arm, wrenching him away from the limp body.
"NO!" cries out Jason. "Not yet!" Using his free hand, he rips a Batarang from his belt. He lunges forward, trying to tear himself from the vicelike grip. The hold doesn't break, but Jason flings himself forward enough and swings the Batarang out, aiming for the prisoner's throat.
"STOP!" bellows Batman. Jason is jerked back once more, and the Batarang instead slices along the top of the unconscious man's chest. A thin line of red seeps through the jumpsuit, and then Robin swoops down from above, immediately applying pressure to the wound.
"Get away from him!" screams Jason. "He doesn't deserve your help!"
"Knight!" Batman swings Jason around so that the two are facing each other. "Jason!"
Growling furiously, Jason tries to wrench himself free of Batman's grasp. But Batman's grip tightens painfully, and Jason is shoved against the staircase wall. "What is wrong with you?" shouts Batman. "Have you lost your mind? You nearly killed him!"
"He deserves it!" Jason twists violently, but is unsuccessful in breaking free. "Let me finish it! If you aren't brave enough to do it, let me!"
Batman grits his teeth. "Jason, stop!"
Jason thrusts his knee upwards, jamming it into Batman's gut. Batman grunts and loosens his grip just enough for Jason to pull himself out of it. Then he delivers a hard kick to Batman's abdomen, sending the man staggering back a few steps. Jason turns to rush back to where Robin is tending to the wounded prisoner, but Batman throws himself forward and wraps an arm around Jason's waist. He pulls Jason back, slamming him to the concrete of platform between the staircases.
"STOP THIS!" Batman shouts. He crouches over Jason, holding the younger man in place with his knee. "Dammit Jason, don't make me do something I don't want to."
With an almost animalistic growl, Jason slams the heel of his hand into Batman's leg, knocking it from his chest. He moves to get up, but Batman delivers a hard punch to Jason, causing the back of his head to smack against the floor. Jason is momentarily dazed by the blow, which gives Batman a long enough advantage to pin down Jason's right arm. Tearing off Jason's gauntlet, Batman reaches into one of his utility belt pockets and pulls out a small syringe; he quickly lowers it to Jason's exposed wrist, injecting a sedative into the boy.
"No!" yells Jason. Batman lets up slightly, allowing Jason to yank his hand away, but it's too late. Panic courses through Jason at the familiar feeling of the drugs taking hold and he gives a hard shove to Batman, scrambling backwards. Clutching his wrist, Jason stares up at Batman in horror.
Batman's expression twists into an uncomfortable grimace. "I'm sorry," whispers Bruce.
"You…you…" Jason says faintly. He tries to pull himself up, but the drugs have already taken away control of his limbs and he instead slumps down the wall of the staircase. Any attempt to speak is useless, as all that comes out is a jumbled slur. Then his head falls forward, and he crumples in a heap at Batman's feet.
Bruce swallows, staring at Jason's motionless form. He bends down and gently takes his son's wrist in his hand, checking Jason's pulse. Satisfied that it's normal, Bruce gathers up Jason's body and slings it over his shoulders. He turns to Tim, who is staring at the two of them with wide eyes.
"Take the man outside and leave him with the guards," orders Bruce. "I'll meet you at the Batmobile in five minutes."
Biting his lip, Tim nods. He opens his mouth to speak, but Bruce is already ascending the stairs, no doubt heading to the rooftop so as to better escape unseen. Tim glances at the door Jason had come from; through its small window he can see that the flames have finally caught up to them. They're out of time. With a horrible feeling pooling in his gut, Tim pulls the prisoner over his back and begins the descent to the prison courtyard.
Ten minutes later, the entirety of the West Wing is engulfed in fire.