Jason knew the situation was dire when Bruce called for an emergency family meeting. The fact that his presence wasn't only encouraged, but requested, told him that it was bad as fuck.

He didn't expect to see Bruce losing his goddamn mind, hair sticking everywhere, a forgotten tea mug in his hands as emotional support. After he parked his bike in 'his spot' in the Cave, he carefully walked to the table set up close to the batcomputer, which was showing the profile documents of the Bat's rogue gallery.

Damian turned to look at him, but there wasn't his usual scowl in place. The kid had bags under his eyes, as well as Replacement and Dick, who was sipping his tea in silence, frowning at the table.

"Ok, I'm here. What's up."

Nobody commented on him being late. That was the second red flag.

Duke patted his shoulder when he sat on the only free chair, between the meta and Cass.

"Something's bad." Cassandra signed, looking a bit tired.

"Bad? The streets have never been this quiet!" Jason was confused.

"Precisely, Jason." It was Bruce who answered him. No witty remarks, no passive aggressiveness. Third red flag. "It's been too quiet. For months."

The man counted on his head. It had been months already? He had been wondering these days why he hadn't heard about any dangerous plots or villainous machinations in Crime Alley. But again, he was grateful for the break. And the extra hours of sleep.

But Bruce was right. In Gotham, no news was bad news.

"Any leads?"

Bruce nodded solemnly. He turned and typed a little bit on the Batcomputer and more photos and files appeared spread on all the giant monitors.

"We've checked everyone - Penguin's operations are pretty self-run and he didn't have any big things coming, so it is not that rare for things to be quiet on his end." Another bit of typing and on the screen Jason saw Two-face's thugs chilling on the street. "Dent's people didn't reveal anything, even after a proper interrogation."

"They kept their kneecaps, don't worry." Dick leaned into Jason's field of vision, with a tired smile on his face.

"Selina is on vacation and she says she hasn't heard anything from Ivy or Harley in a while. This is the longest that either of them had been in Arkham without escaping."

"Riddler is still at Arkham as far as we know." Tim said, looking at his tablet. "Croc, Bane and Freeze we couldn't find anything on them, it's like they had vanished."

There was silence for a moment. Jason swallowed the knot in his throat and asked what someone had to ask.

"Joker is still at Arkham." It wasn't a question. If the clown had escaped, they would know.

Bruce nodded. "Two whole weeks since we put him there last time. Not a peep from him."

The ones sitting on the table looked at each other, uncertain. Joker never stayed put that long, at least not without someone dying.

"Arkham is the key." Cass signed, looking hopefully at Bruce. The man tilted his head.

"Yeah, they are either missing or still there."

"A trap?" Jason leaned and tried to steal Tim's tablet, but the brat pulled at the last moment. "Hey!"

"If it's a trap, they are hiding it too well. And don't touch my tablet. You'll break it."

"It was one time, Timothy."

The younger sibling narrowed his eyes.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Arkham does seem to be the key," he acknowledged, "but apart from this new streak of peace, there hadn't been any substantial changes."

Duke, who had been silently watching them talk, lifted his hand to speak. "Maybe nothing on the inmates' side, but what about the personnel? Any new doctors?"

Bruce clicked his tongue. He knew he was forgetting something - doing background checks for the doctors and guards of Arkham was something he stopped doing when more important things started piling up. He turned, typed a little bit, pulling the records of new Arkham personnel and growling when, indeed, an unfamiliar face appeared on the screen.

"Name: Jasmine Fenton. Twenty six years old, licensed therapist, graduated with honors. No criminal records whatsoever."

Damian snorted, murmuring something like yeah right.

Bruce continued reading. "Her first choice for interning was Arkham." Bruce opened a document, by the title it probably was her motivation letter. Jason caught words like 'mind of the criminal' and 'obsession'. He pulled up more papers written by Jasmine Fenton. "Her work revolves around the idea that redirecting the criminally insane's obsessions into a healthier alternative is the key to curing them."

"She has her work cut out for her, then." Tim mumbled, already downloading the files into his tablet so he could take a closer look.

"Ok so it's very suspicious that there is a new doctor just when things are calming down. Then that's good, right? It means that whatever she's doing-" Jason really wanted for this to be nothing.

"She's been assigned to treat the Joker."

"- Motherfucker."

"Language." Bruce said by autopilot, but didn't turn to look at Jason. "She has been seeing him thrice a week since he was admitted, starting the same day we put him there."

There was a heavy silence. This was too much of a coincidence, and the bats didn't believe in coincidences.

Jason looked up at the profile picture of this doctor, trying to picture her sitting in front of Joker. She was too… fresh. Her face was on the rounder side, her smile sincere and her eyes bright with hope. A person like her didn't fit in Arkham at all. Jason decided he didn't like any of this.

"You think she could be working for him?" Dick didn't specify who 'him' was, but he didn't need to.

"Impossible to discern. We have too little data from her background."

"Yeah," Tim pitched in, "she's from a little town in the middle of nowhere, Illinois. Amity Park. Sounds like a knock-off Amityville tourist trap. Parents -" he snorted, controlling the giggles. "Her parents are 'ecto-biologists' and self-proclaimed ghost hunters."

"At least they commit to the theme." Jason tried to laugh. Dick smiled tiredly.

"One younger brother, who barely finished highschool and didn't go to college. No criminal records either."

Without either of them touching the computer, a photo appeared on the screen. Two people, one man and a woman, shaking hands with people wearing white suits.

"B, check this out." Barbara's voice filled the Cave. "The parents have contracts with an ex-government military agency. The GIW, or the Ghost Investigation Ward, also known as the Guys in White, at least on the internet."

"What kind of name is that?" Damian scrunched his nose in distaste.

"Also, GhostInvestigation Ward?" Tim rolled his eyes. "More crazy people leaning into the theme?"

Documents, classified and mostly redacted documents, started to appear on the screens as fast as Oracle could extract them from very illegal sources.

"Say whatever you want, but this is big. Big money, a lot of very influential faces, and most importantly-"

Schematics popped on the screens.

"- Weapons."

Jason leaned in and looked carefully at the weapons. Some of them were familiar, others were too far removed from normal guns to really discern what they even were. Whatever the case, they were a problem.

He also noticed that half of the schematics had 'Fentonworks' written on the side, identifying its creators.

"Since they were cut off from the Government, they went into private security, accepting contracts from the likes of Lex Luthor."

"And the Fentons work for these people?" Jason still wasn't sold into this 'ghost' concept, but working with Luthor or any of those billionaire whacks was enough to get into his shit list.

"They sell their weapons to them." Oracle clarified. There was a pause, as if she were trying to choose her words. "And have collaborated with them in some… morally dubious scientific experimentations."

Before anyone could ask what she meant by that, a video started playing on the screen. It didn't have any audio, which was something they were grateful for when they quickly identified the Fentons and one of the people in white suits leaning into an examination table. A table where a person was screaming. Jason felt nauseous when he saw the smiles on the elder Fentons' faces.

Jason fumbled with his helmet in a rare display of nervousness.

His head was filled with fury, uneasiness and a million questions. How could people torture someone like that? Did the Fenton kids share their parents' ideas? What was he going to find once he confronted the doctor? Was she here in Arkham searching for more subjects to bring to her parents?

He remembered her face from the profile picture. She looked so young and nice, not at all someone you'd expect finding cutting open someone in a creepy basement laboratory. But he was well aware that appearances could be deceiving, and a pretty face could hide a deranged personality.

"Ok, Little Wing." Dick's voice brought him back to the present. "If you need backup just say the word and we'll be there."

Jason grumbled but put on his helmet, the little click of the clasps resonating in the quiet night. He nodded at where Damian, Tim and Dick had set up camp close to the Asylum, just in case they were needed.

He hoped he didn't need their help - not because he thought he was capable of dealing on his own with a whole ass prison filled with the worst Gotham had to offer; but because he didn't want to make this into an open brawl with a whole ass prison filled with the worst Gotham had to offer.

It was supposed to be a simple infiltration and recon mission. Get in, try to get intel on the Fenton doctor, get any incriminating (or absolving, he hoped) proof of shady activities, get out. If the opportunity presents itself, try to kidnap her for interrogation.

"Why do I have to do it? Aren't the midget or the demon child more suited for crawling in vents and shit like that?"

"It's not my fault that you are built like a fucking tank-"

"Because we need information, and the prisoners won't talk to any of us." Batman interrupted Red Robin.

Jason rolled his eyes. The benefits of being the black sheep of the family, he guessed. Now everything surrounding any shady parts of Gotham was run by him first, as if he was some kind of crime lord who had fingers in all the pies.

Wait. He is a crime lord. Most of the time.

Red Hood checked one last time that his comms was operating and open (Yes, B, comms open at all times, I heard you the first three times) and jumped over the outer wall of the Arkham Asylum complex. Getting in was the easy part - escaping was going to be a bit more tricky. But that was for the Jason of the future.

"The guard change is going to happen in five minutes." Dick's voice filled his helmet.

"Acknowledged."

It took four minutes to infiltrate successfully into the low risk wing of the Asylum, the part where most of the Blackgate relocated prisoners were in, and where he planned to get a big chunk of the information.

Just as the guards left the wing for the shift change, he dropped into the hallways of the prison, smiling when the cameras shut down just in time.

"You have ten minutes." Oracle informed him.

He cracked his knuckles. It was more than enough.

He walked down the cells, looking for familiar faces, keeping his steps light and inaudible like he was trained to do. It couldn't have been more than a minute when he saw a familiar mohawk.

Finally!

"Billy! My buddy! My brother from another mother!"

The henchman jumped and turned from where he was talking with four more inmates in the corner of the classic square cell with barred walls.

"Hood? What are you doing here?" the man said, but didn't approach. All conversation from the other five inmates on the other side stopped to see the exchange.

"Just a bit of sightseeing, Arkham is nice at this time of the year." He crossed his arms, knowing the effect his broad shoulders and beefy arms had on people. "What the fuck you think I'm doing here?"

"But there hasn't been any trouble here…?" Another inmate stood up.

"Precisely. I need to know what's going on." It wasn't a question. He looked at each one of the inmates nervously looking at him, waiting for any of them to speak first.

Bill sighed and approached the bars. "There have been some… changes around here."

"So I've been told."

The henchman lifted an eyebrow. "Then what do you want to know?"

"The new doctor. Fenton. Tell me what you know about her."

The inmates were taken aback by his request, and while Bill thought about what to say, the rest whispered between themselves.

"She's amazing? I mean, we don't get treatment here, since we are not insane-"

"Speak for yourself!" Bill flipped the bird at whoever interrupted him.

"- But I heard she's super nice and treats the inmates as, y'know, people. Even the crazier ones."

"Yeah, I overheard Two-Face talking about her the other day." Another inmate approached them. "He had tears in his eyes. Well, the not-fucked-up eye. Apparently they had a breakthrough in therapy and he was reconsidering some stuff about himself."

"Ask about any suspicious experiments."

Jason wanted to bite back the comment that he knew how to get information on his own, thank you very much, but they were on a tight schedule.

"Have you seen any kind of suspicious activities? People disappearing? Anything?"

"Why, you think she's into some kind of shady business?" Bill was shaking his head. "Nah, man. She's the real deal."

"Yeah!" The man who approached them made a face, as if it was stupid to think she was involved in things like that. "Dr. Fenton is a real sunshine."

"The other day some dude tried to grab her ass and Riddler almost broke his hand. It was epic!"

"I didn't know Edward cared about anything more than his riddles." Jason was honestly surprised.

"He said some stuff about the benefits of keeping her around, but nobody bought it. Dr. Fenton is just super nice and kinda intimidating? The crazies love that."

"Two minutes." Barbara said as a warning.

Jason sighed. 'She's super nice' wasn't enough to rule out her collaboration with the Fenton parents.

"Okay then. Thanks for the info!" He turned to walk back to where he had an entry to the vents prepared.

"Hey! Get us out of here!" Bill flatted himself against the bars, trying to keep Red Hood in his line of vision. "We did what you wanted!"

"I never said I would let you out." Jason saluted with one hand, but kept walking.

Okay then.

Next on the list was searching her office for any incriminating documents. Jason followed the stream of instructions from Tim from the comms, guiding him through the serpentine ventilation system of the building, honestly fed up with the cramped space.

He cursed everything as he made his way to the other side of the low risk building, out into the inner patio, hid from the guards and sneaked into the main building, where the administrative part of Arkham was located, including the offices of the doctors.

"Remind me to never do this again." He grumbled, absolutely done with crawling in cramped spaces while being careful of not banging his equipment and his guns against the metal.

"Maybe stop eating so much garbage, you idiot."

"I will end you, little brat." He scoffed softly. "And it's Dickie who has a sugary cereal based diet. Why is it me who gets shit for my weight?"

"Names." They heard Batman's voice cut through the argument. He, Steph and Cass were on standby in case back up needed back up. Still it was as a last resort - they didn't want to bring attention to this and alert whoever was behind this that Batman was investigating.

"Shut up, I'm almost there." He cut whatever Dick was going to defend himself with, and the comms became quiet once again.

Once he got to the correct vent, he almost clicked his tongue in disappointment. The Fenton girl was in her office, sitting at her desk reading some documents. Jason watched carefully for any useful information; the knick knacks on the table, a family photo he couldn't see from this angle, any bags where she could be hiding weapons.

He quietly opened the vent cover, wincing when the rusty metal protested a little. He stopped, controlling his breathing, but the girl turned the page and continued reading. Good.

His feet didn't make a noise as he landed on the concrete, right behind her. Maybe he couldn't investigate the office but he was in the perfect position to silently drug her and kidnap her.

"Making an exit route right now." Tim's voice was low, so the doctor wouldn't hear it. "Hold on."

But the more they waited the higher the probability that she would turn around and see him, or that someone would enter the room. No, he had to drug her now.

He took a silent step, one hand opening the little pouch with the syringes-

"Stop right there."

Jason almost didn't see her turn around, or where the gun came from, but his heart skipped a beat in surprise. If he had been expecting her to be armed or that she was trained, he wouldn't have been caught like this; but no one told him that the doctor girl could move like that.

He looked up from the barrel of the strange looking (and green?) gun, to the blue eyes of Dr. Fenton, finding a shocked face, as if she had been the one jumped on with a gun.

"You are not…" The murmur was low, but in the quiet room he heard it perfectly.

Jason ignored the screams and the demands for him to abandon the mission and get the hell out of there via the comms, and put a gloved hand on the gun, lowering it.

"Dr. Jasmine Fenton?" His voice betrayed nothing, specially not with the modulator in the helmet. "I'm-"

"The Red Hood!" Jasmine shrieked, dropping the gun on the desk and putting her hands on her mouth. Her eyes were bright. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!"

"What on earth is going on?"

I wish I knew, Jason thought, but he was unable to articulate a word to answer Nightwing's question.

"Please, sit!" Jasmine grabbed his arm and pulled hard, making him stumble towards the chair on the other side of the desk. "This is going to be amazing!"

Danny had a feeling of being watched for a while, like something was out of place in Arkham. He had noticed a new and unfamiliar presence in his haunt the moment he stepped inside, but it didn't feel particularly strong or menacing, so he decided to keep working as normal but keep an eye out for abnormalities.

And so, he had come for his shift, hoping he could catch his sister before his rounds and chat with her about the weird feeling; but the universe once again worked against him when he got the message that the inmates from Blackgate were making a ruckus and if he could check what was going on.

Once he got there, he didn't expect to be directly addressed by a group in cell number four.

"Hey, Danny!" A guy whose name he was positive he knew… Bill! Yeah. Bill called for his attention. "Your sister!"

Danny's attention zeroed on the inmate.

"What's wrong?"

Bill swallowed.

"Red Hood was here. He was asking around, trying to get dirt on her."

Red Hood was here.

Red Hood.

One of the Bats.

The local furry crime fighters.

Danny felt like his ice core overloaded, his body frozen in place for a second. Then, he booked it out of there without a second glance. He didn't even register that he didn't thank the guy for the info. He was on a mission.

"Hey!" Danny vaguely heard his fellow guards complain as he zoomed past them as fast as it was humanly possible. He sometimes looked down to make sure that his sneakers were still touching the floor - it wasn't the time to blow his cover, if he ever had to.

The Red Hood. Of all the freaking bats and birds, the gun guy was the one investigating them. Danny had made fun of his sister for psychoanalyzing the local superheroes, but he had also looked into them and how they operated, just in case.

In case of what? He still wondered why he did it. Gotham barely had any ectoplasmic energy, it couldn't maintain a full ghost. Phantom was not needed here anyway, not that he wanted to go back to being a superhero. But he still had looked them up.

(Paranoia, Jazz would say.)

And Red Hood was the one he had circled in red marker as to NOT interact with, on top of his do-not-engage list, right under the Batman himself. Not because he thought he couldn't take them out in a fight, but because getting on the radar of either the Justice League or the crime underworld were equally bad options.

Red Hood was looking for his sister.

What did he want? Had he learned about Danny's ghostliness and was trying to kidnap her for leverage? Did he disagree that inmates could be cured? Was this about the Joker?

Whatever the case, he was approaching the offices floor of the main building, his focus only in the energy signature he knew well. Jazz was still at her office. He didn't feel her soul leave the Living Plane, so at least there's that.

He was ready to break some rules if something happened to her, balance be damned.

"Jazz!" He shouted, pushing the door open and finding her sitting at her desk-

Red Hood sitting in front of her, jumping in the chair at the sudden interruption. His hands were on his lap and the guns still secured against his legs. The man turned to look at who entered the room, freezing when he saw Danny.

"Just a sec, Danny. I think we are finally going somewhere." Jazz smiled from ear to ear, her hand furiously writing on a notepad. She looked back at the hero. "So, Mr. Hood, you were talking about your dad?"

"He's not my dad!"

"Father figure, then." She bit her smile and wrote something on the paper. Red Hood bristled in place.

"For the last fucking time, I don't have daddy issues!"

"Nobody would blame you if you did." Jazz circled something on her notepad. "It's more common than you think, especially among people in your field of work."

Red Hood grumbled something, putting his head between his hands, completely done with the conversation.

Danny sighed, realizing he had stopped breathing for a moment. "Everything okay?"

"No."

"Yeah!" His sister's smile was refreshing. Hood didn't seem to agree with her. "This is such a golden opportunity Danny! I had dreamed of getting to interview one of the bats, but the one I really wanted was Red Hood!"

The man looked up from his hands. "You do?" His voice sounded hopeful even with the modulator.

"Yes! The theatrics, the dramatic theme! Taking one of Joker's previous aliases as an identity before remaking Gotham's crime ecosystem!"

"But didn't he, like, cut some dudes' hands or something?"

"Heads. I cut their heads." Red Hood took a deep breath and stood up, towering over the siblings. "Look, I didn't come here to be psychoanalyzed. You guys are coming with me."

Danny tensed.

"No."

"It wasn't a request."

Jazz sobered, eyes going to the guns on the man's thighs. "Why? Are we in trouble? We haven't done anything!"

"Also you are trespassing private property." Danny straightened his back. "I should be sounding the alarm and kicking you out of the window."

The siblings glared at the hero, jaws set, bodies tense and ready to fight. Danny's hand twitched towards the baton strapped to his waist, knowing it wouldn't do much against the body armor, but one hundred percent ready to bonk the red helmet with some ghostly strength.

Red Hood relaxed, probably giving up on using brute force, but the siblings couldn't see his expression.

"Okay, everybody calm down." Danny heard voices coming from inside the helmet, and he assumed he had some sort of communication device. Was Batman listening in on the conversation? "We just want to ask a few questions. About your parents."

Danny and Jazz shared a look.

"You are not in trouble." There was more chatter from the other side of the comms. "We just want to talk."

Somehow it wasn't really reassuring.

Danny considered their options here:

The first one was to knock the man out, grab Jazz and run like bats out of hell (ha) from Gotham. They would anger Batman and he could sic the Justice League on them, making them run for the rest of their (after) lives, making Jazz leave her dream behind. Danny had less to lose here, he could simply hide in the Ghost Zone until Bats gave up - but his sister would have to throw her life dreams away.

(Like he did, once, a long time ago.)

The second option was to go along with them. Hood said it was about their parents, but he wasn't exactly sure what could possibly ruffle Batman's feathers enough to bully their children, who wanted nothing to do with whatever the elder Fentons were doing. If they played their cards well, no one would know about Danny's half dead condition and they could quickly clear any misunderstanding. Danny would go back to being a simple security guard, protecting his haunt, and Jazz could continue doing her thing. And who knows? Maybe a bat or a bird would feel bad enough for bothering them and volunteer to be Jazz' guinea pig or something.

There was no doubt which option was better. Not really.

He refused to listen to the part of his mind that reminded him that with the second option things could go real bad real fast. That the risk of his secret being out was greater, that these guys were very good at their jobs and any wrong word or facial expression could make them even more suspicious.

He exchanged another look with Jazz. He nodded. She nodded back, eyes wide.

"Our shifts end in the morning. Then, we'll talk."