"Well well well," A dark raspy voice called out to Jason. "Look who finally got his revenge."
"No! This— this isn't what I wanted! No!" Jason tenderly held his brother in his shaking hands. "Tim…" How could he have done this? He should have known better! He'd known Tim and Dick had been fighting elsewhere. He'd known. Why had he assumed it was Scarecrow?
The pain flooded through him. Tim was the one with the bullet in his heart, but it was Jason who could feel it. His chest throbbed and his head ached. The room swelled as his eyes watered. There was a lump in the back of his throat that stung as his body threatened to sob.
"You got what you wanted," Scarecrow continued. "He replaced you. Batman replaced you with him."
The words stung like a slap to the face. He'd felt like that before— a long time ago. He had hated Tim for so long, but not anymore. Maybe Jason hadn't been the best at showing his love for his brothers, but he loved them. All of them. Even Tim. Especially Tim.
"No… He was my brother… My brother…" He bent over and hugged Tim's body close. A part of him wished he had thought to hug his brothers while they were still alive. He'd been hugged by them on a rare occasion, but now he'd never get to return the favor.
Clang!
Jason looked at the ground to see Tim's staff had fallen when he had hugged him. It rolled on the ground, the far end pointed towards Scarecrow. He gently laid his brother back on the ground and reached for the staff, anger welling up inside.
Scarecrow had killed his brother. Scarecrow made him kill Tim.
"It always ends like this, huh?" Crane's voice rang mockingly.
Jason jumped to his feet, staff in hand. He wasn't Bruce. He would avenge his brothers. First Damian, then Tim. The villains of Gotham would pay for what they did to his brothers.
"The blood's always on your—"
With all his love and sorrow channeled into a blind rage, he thrust the staff into Scarecrow's chest. He pushed it further in. Blood spurt and bones cracked as he pushed it past Crane's spinal cord and through to the other side.
"—hands." Scarecrow fell to his knees, blood running down his lips and dripping down the staff. The now deceased Jonathan Crane fell forward, which only pushed Tim's staff further into the corpse, with a sickening snap.
Dazed, Jason pulled his brother's staff out of Scarecrow. Blood dripped further down the staff and further still to the floor. That was unfortunate. Crane had gotten Tim's staff full of blood.
He knelt down and wiped the bo staff on Scarecrow's pants, then tucked it behind a strap on his back.
He'd avenged Tim. All that was left was to find Bane and kill him for Damian. He'd find Dick and— Dick. His heart sank. He'd have to tell him about Tim… How was he supposed to do that?
Despite the miserable task ahead of him, Jason returned through the hole in the wall to look for his final remaining brother. "Dick!" He called, but there was no response. He rounded the corner to where he had left his brothers to face off against Bane. He didn't expect to see Dick there still, seeing how Tim had come and found him. But what he did expect to see, and what cut through his already throbbing heart was Damian's body.
"Damian… You stupid..." He knelt beside his littlest brother, unable to finish his sentence. It was almost impossible to believe he was gone. He could still hear Damian's annoying voice mocking him for the books he read. He could still hear his cackle when a perfectly executed prank trap went off. But, he didn't have time for this. There was no time to recall semi-fond, semi-infuriating memories. There was no time to mourn. He had to find Dick. Once they took care of the other dregs of Gotham that hid in the asylum, they could mourn their brothers. As he stood up, he caught sight of Damian's sword. It only seemed fitting, that if Dick hadn't already killed Bane, he'd run him through with Damian's sword. "I'll treat it well." He took one last look at his brother and continued on.
Just up ahead, he noticed a hole in the wall that hadn't been there when they had entered earlier. He ducked inside to find an almost completely destroyed room. The room probably hadn't been very nice, to begin with, but it had been decimated with the obvious signs of a struggle. Blood splattered across the low beams that had probably once held the ceiling up. At the far end of the room, it looked like two bodies were on the ground. So Dick had taken on two villains. It was no wonder there was so much blood around. He walked closer to see who exactly Dick had dealt with but stopped short upon seeing the bodies clearly.
It wasn't two bodies.
It was two halves of a single body.
The two halves of Dick Grayson.
"No! No! Not again!" He fell to his knees, sick to his stomach. "Not another one!" Dick was his last brother. His last surviving brother. Or— he had thought. He'd lost everything. His entire family was gone. It had just been him and his brothers and now even them… all in one day. All in one hour. All in the same building. All in the line of combat, all painful and gruesome. Dick's head was smashed in from behind. Bane must have smashed his head on one of the beams and ripped Nightwing in half. Hadn't it been enough to smash his head? Did Bane really have to go as far as to rip him apart? He'd seen Venom mess with people's minds, but at this point, Bane was a pure animal.
He felt as if he would puke. Jason had seen his fair share of disturbing sights— he'd caused a fair share of disturbing sights, but seeing all three of his brother's bodies mangled was too much.
"It's a shame," said a familiar voice from the shadows.
Jason snapped his head up. Could he not have a moment of peace to honor his brothers? "Slade, I should have known." Out of everyone, Deathstroke was the most likely to arrange all this. And now here he had shown up to end the Bat-family line for good.
"I didn't do this," Deathstroke replied calmly as he stepped into the light.
Jason did not care. Slade could lie all he wanted, but it could be only his fault. It had to be! Because he could kill Slade. He could kill him and pin all the blame on him. At his feet lay Nightwing's batons. He picked them up and lunged at Deathstroke.
Deathstroke stepped back and pulled out his blade, which he expertly parried Jason's baton attack with.
Jason stumbled back and fumbled to catch his balance, not used to the weight of Nightwing's batons. They hadn't ever trained with each other's weapons. That… that would have been a good idea… If only they weren't dead…
He felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him. His brothers were dead. And there was only Deathstroke to blame. "You wanna sword fight? Let's sword fight then."
He pulled out Damian's katana. It felt more natural in his hands than Dick's batons. Only, while Jason poured his anger into every slash of the sword, Slade easily blocked them all. It didn't take a genius to see that he'd never win against the older man in regular combat. But he was pretty sure not even Deathstroke could fight a grenade with a sword.
Jason fell back, angled to defend himself from any attacks, as he reached for a grenade-equipped Batarang. Though, it was odd. While he had blocked every attack thrown at him so far, Slade had yet to attack Jason. Why? It was obvious who was at an advantage.
He threw the Batarang and hit his opponent, causing the man to stagger back. Jason picked up Tim's bo staff, still covered in Scarecrow's blood and rushed towards him. Deathstroke would pay for arranging all of this. He'd make sure of it— or die trying.
Before he was anywhere near the man, Deathstroke pulled out a gun and shot at Jason. He saw his life flash before his eyes. He had died here once, and now he would again. How fitting, for him to have out-survived all the rest of his brothers, only to have their mangled bodies be the last thing he'd see in his mind's eye.
Instead of a bullet though, an electric net flew out of the gun and expanded on Jason. He stumbled back onto the ground.
"Stop resisting," said Deathstroke in a rather annoyed voice. He stood, towering over Jason. He looked tired. If the man was tired, maybe Jason could defeat him.
"Never!" Jason glared at Slade and grabbed another explosive batarang. He threw it past his opponent and it hit the ground. "If I go down, you're coming with me!" The bangarang exploded and the ground crumbled underneath them. Both villain and vigilante fell down to the room underneath.
In the fall, Jason struggled free from the net and managed to fall into a roll. He jumped up to his feet and charged at Slade again. He picked up a piece of rubble, his weapons being scattered across the floor. Before he could land a hit, Deathstroke kicked him square in the chest, which sent him flying.
Jason landed across the room, exhausted. He had barely missed cracking his head open on a sharp piece of rubble. Was he so poorly equipped that he couldn't even land a single hit on Deathstroke? Maybe… He was just so tired…
He turned his head away from Slade. On the floor next to him, lay Damien's katana. No. He'd keep fighting until he dropped to the floor. He picked up the sword once more and lashed out at him again.
Deathstroke used his rifle to block the incoming attack and countered with a sweep that knocked Jason to the floor. He pressed down on Jason's chest with the butt of the rifle.
"I didn't kill them," He said, firmly. He tossed away the gun and instead extended his hand towards Jason. "But let me help you avenge them."
Slade had been trying to… help? That would explain why he hadn't attacked him, aside from throwing him across the room when he had gotten too close. But could he really be trusted? But did he really have a choice? If Slade had meant to kill him, wouldn't he have done it already?
Jason hesitated but grabbed his hand and stood up. "Do you plan on hunting them all down with me?"
"No, this is your battle. But, I can teach you how to fight them." Deathstroke handed him his brother's weapons, which Jason took happily.
"I know how to fight."
"You know how to fight like Batman, you need to learn you can spare everyone"
Jason frowned. He didn't appreciate that comment. He'd been a Robin, yes, but out of them all, he was the one who never hesitated to take a life.
"Ok… but why help?"
"That's my own business. Follow me." Slade grappled through the hole they had just fallen through without another word.
Jason followed him out of the abandoned asylum and to the Batmobile which was parked outside. It was a large, tank-like vehicle, not stealthy in any way, but it was the only batmobile that could hold all four of them… Guess that wouldn't be a problem anymore…
Parked beside the batmobile, was a slim stealth bike, which Slade mounted and drove off. Jason jumped into the now roomy batmobile and followed after. He followed the bike all the way to the center of Miagani Island.
Miagani island was without a doubt the quietest part of Gotham, being owned by the Black Mask, a second-generation black market dealer. Jason had killed the original Black Mask, in his early vigilante days, but it had done little to stop the organization. The role had been taken up by another, who, while remaining anonymous, sold state-of-the-art security systems, as a front for the underground operation. It also didn't hurt that selling all the security systems gave the organization the master key to many expensive homes, businesses, and banks.
Deathstroke pulled into an old parking garage. Jason followed him down into a sub-level of the garage, which held a stash of Slade's toys. Upon further inspection of some of the crates littered around the room, Jason found many of Slade's toys' actually belonged to the Black Mask.
"Talk about fighting fire with fire."
"It's crazy how much of the Mask's merchandise 'goes missing' after a few freak accidents," Slade chuckled as he walked on. The two of them entered a room at the far end of the floor. Inside, the walls were plastered with maps and pictures of the Mask's drop locations and building plans. One of the more eye-catching items on the wall was a picture of a man. Or rather, the eye-catching part was the knife that was stabbed into the photo.
Jason nodded his head towards the photo, "Who's that?"
"That's Calendar man." Deathstroke removed the knife to reveal a bald, middle-aged man with date tattoos all over his head. "He runs all of the Black Mask's planning. And well-" He stabbed the knife back in the man's head, "-calendars."
"Ha! The world's evilest secretary," Jason joked. Slade showed no signs of being humored, but he chose to believe the man was smiling under his mask.
"Calendar Man can remember every date to the second, which makes him quite useful to the mask."
"So you want me to kill him?" Jason unholstered his gun and racked the slide. This Calendar Man didn't seem like he'd be too hard to kill. Just one bullet to his shiny, bald head and it would be over.
"No," Deathstroke shook his head and tapped on the picture. "First, I need information from him… then you may kill him"
"So, where do we find this living day planner?" Jason put the gun back in its holster. He glanced at the maps nearest to the picture of Calendar Man, to see if he could figure it out before he was told.
"He tends to stay down by the docks in one of their larger warehouses." Slade moved to a map further along the wall and pointed to one of the large buildings depicted on it.
"So, we get in, find Calendar-Face, get the info, and burn the place down behind us."
"Yep. Get your sh*t together. We leave now."
At about four AM, both villain and vigilante arrived at the docks on the far side of the island. The docks were a cold and dark place, even in the daytime. Perfect for hiding the sinister plans of the Mask. And even better for providing cover for Jason and Slade, who crept right through the crowded area and into the warehouse, perfectly silent and unseen.
While the warehouse was cluttered and dark enough for the duo to walk straight through, they lept from beam to beam at the top of the building, till they reached a plain white door that led into a basic white office. If he hadn't just walked through a room with enough munitions to arm a small militia, Jason would have hardly known he was in the office of an underground arms dealer. It seemed almost too normal. If he weren't following a known villain around the maze of cubicles, he would have assumed he was at the bank.
Deathstroke suddenly stopped outside the only actual office room in the office, which was labeled 'Julian Gregory Day'.
"Who's Julian?" Jason whispered under his breath.
"That's Calendar Man's real name," Deathstroke responded in a hushed tone
Jason raised an eyebrow. "I see why he was in a rush to change it." Poor Calendar Man was bald AND had a lame name, two things Jason couldn't relate to.
He pushed open the door to reveal yet another extremely basic-looking office. A large wooden desk sat in the middle of the room. It was neatly decorated with a few small potted cacti and a mug. The only sign of it ever being used was the steam off the coffee mug, the large laptop open in the middle of the desk, and the very tip top of a bald head behind the desk.
"What do you want?" asked a nasally voice from behind the large laptop.
"We just have a few questions for you, Mr. Day." Deathstroke gently closed the door and turned the lock.
A pale hand reached up and closed the laptop to reveal a small man, no more than five feet tall, his face frozen in pure terror.
"Wha…. Who are you?"
There were a million things he could have replied with, but out of them all, only one stood out to Jason. It was who he was. It was who his father was. It was what he wanted.
"Vengeance."
The fear in Calendar Man's eyes grew. "Wait—" He lifted up a trembling hand and knocked over a cup of pencils in the process. "What do you want from me?"
I want my brothers back. I want to know why everyone is working together. I want to know when you'll all drop dead.
"What do you know about Project Rose Garden?" Slade interrupted Jason's thoughts before he had a chance to voice them.
"I-I can't," Calendar Man stuttered.
"Oh-" Deathstroke walked right up to the edge of the desk and motioned for Jason to follow. "-you'll talk." He glanced at Jason, and then Calendar Man as if to say, 'Your turn.' But Jason had his eye on something else.
"No. F*cking. Way."
There on the desk, was a mug, steaming with hot coffee still. But that wasn't what excited him. "Look!" Delighted, Jason lifted up the mug and showed it to Slade. Printed on the side of the mug was: 'World's Evilest Secretary'. "I f*cking called it!"
With a wide smile, Jason gently placed the mug back on the desk. How overjoyed he was to have had his joke be true. And how much more delighted he would be when he jammed Calendar Man's face into his stupid cup. He grabbed the glorified secretary's head and slammed it into the cup, which shattered and send shards flying in all directions— including Calendar Man's eyes.
He reeled in pain and stepped back. With one hand, he clawed at his eyes; and with the other frantically felt for something from one of the drawers of the desk. He lifted what appeared to be an inhaler and used it.
An inhaler. Of course, the little man would need an inhaler. Jason almost smirked. It was no small wonder the villain was only a secretary. However, the amusement turned into shock as Calendar Man's veins bulged and his biceps grew insanely large.
"Ahh!" He screamed as he rushed Jason with his newfound strength.
Jason sidestepped and let the clumsy punches hit the wall behind him. He picked up one of the pencils that had been knocked over and stabbed the man in the stomach. Without giving Calendar Man a second to test out his newly acquired muscles, he continued his attack and kneed him in the groin. He pushed the pencil further into his stomach.
Julian Day collapsed onto the floor with a cocktail of steroids leaking out from his stomach, where the pencil was pushed in.
"Now-" Jason picked up one of the cacti decorating the office. "-if you don't tell me everything I wanna know, you're going to get very acquainted with this cactus."
"Okay! Okay! Please stop!" Calendar Man pleaded as he covered his face with his hands. "I don't have the information, but I know who does."
"Go on," Slade prodded.
"He's locked up in Bludhaven. He has a data chip in his left eye. Take the chip and you have your information."
"Now, was that so hard?" Jason forced a friendly smile at the man on the floor and pretended to let go of the cactus, just to see him squirm a little more. But he caught it and sat it back on the desk.
Calendar Man sighed in relief. "Now will you let me—"
Before he could finish his plea, Slade slit his throat.
"That's one down." Jason unlocked the door and opened it, only to find the office room filled with the Mask's finest mercenaries. "Oh, f*ck."
Instinctively, he dropped to the floor and began to lay down cover fire on the hive-mind mercenaries, taking out the four nearest to the doorway.
"Watch out!"
Jason turned his head to see Deathstroke deflect a grenade with his sword. It sailed back towards the lobby of the office.
Bang!
Jason recoiled at the smell of burnt flesh. He surveyed the destroyed room, now complete with at least twenty burning mercenary bodies littered on the floor. He edged towards the door and peeked out in time to see two cars pull up. At least a dozen more black masks spilled out, guns at the ready.
He grabbed two explosive Batarangs and threw them at the cars as Deathstroke covered him. Only one of the Batarangs detonated and killed six members. The surviving six fired frantically into the building.
"Let's get out of here," said Deathstroke. He moved towards the nearest set of offices, which luckily, were a part of the exterior wall. There was even a hole to escape from! Unfortunately, they found four mercenaries inside, who had cut the hole to get in and attack.
Jason rushed the two mercenaries on his left with Nightwing's batons in hand. He struck the first across the face then held him in a chokehold. With the first mercenary as a human shield, he turned to the other but was surprised to find that the second mercenary tried to skewer both of them with his machete.
Suddenly, the human shield's head burst open, showering Jason's mask with blood and various matter. He quickly dropped the mercenary and wiped his mask with his sleeve so he could see clearly.
"First rule of fighting black masks," said Deathstroke, with his submachine gun in one hand, "No human shields." He picked up his sword and skewered the remaining two mercenaries. "They're all controlled by mind control chips, so they lack self-preservation."
"Right." With the life lesson out of the way, Jason turned and pointed his guns at the six black masks that had poured into the room. With two deadly accurate shots, two dropped dead. Three more went down courtesy of Deathstroke's submachine gun. Jason shot at the last mercenary. His shot connected with the mercenary's mask, which shattered on impact and sent the man to the floor.
Jason walked to him, and put his gun back in the holster, trading it for the baton.
"Please… have mercy…." The mercenary begged, now free from the mind control.
"Mercy…" Jason spat. Where was mercy when his family had been killed? "I am not mercy. I am vengeance." He lifted Nightwing's baton and bashed the mercenary's head.
Two more cars drove up to the main entrance, and before more possible enemies could flood the room, the two took the opportunity to escape through the hole in the wall.