Chapter 24: Why so serious?

"What do you want, Bruce?"

Irritated, Jason spoke into his phone when he saw who was calling him. This Ass only called when he wanted something from him.

"Damian's been missing for a week. Have you heard from him?"

Dryly the bat answered him and the Outlaw's mood became even more darker:

"Why the hell would I know anything about that little shit? I never had anything to do with him!"

"All right. Did you notice anything else?"

"If you're referring to the Mafia pissants in my town, I've killed them all. If you want some time off, I'll be happy to clean up your place. Don't be surprised if you can retire afterwards, though."

Jason could hear Bruce grumbling angrily on the other end. This asshole had some nerves...

"Nice of you to call again, though. It's not like it's been a year since the last time, and that was only because of Dick's death."

"Jason I..."

"You know what Bruce? No matter what you're about to say, I don't care. While it's none of my business, if you ask me, I'm not surprised Damian took off either. Grow a spine and fuck you Bruce! You and your fucking mask!"

Furious, the Outlaw ended the call.

He had such a hatred for this bigwig and his constant dishonesty at the moment. He wanted to throw his cell phone against the wall and he already raised his arm to do so. However, the black-haired man clamed himself down. It was useless anyway.

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his arm again. On impulse, he went to one of the shelves that stood in his living room to take out an old picture from one of the drawers.

Jason then sat down on the large couch and thoughtfully looked at the photo, which showed him as Robin with Batman.

Back then, there was still Bruce, who not infrequently had a smile on his face and who still knew that there was such a thing as fun.

The corners of Jason's mouth automatically pulled up a notch as he thought back to some of their family moments. For example, when Jason was ill and then Bruce hadn't gone out on patrol specifically to spend the evening with him. Or when they had played baseball together. *1

He had definitely tried to be a father to him and there were times when Jason felt like one of the kids he had envied for years.

A good time.

Straining, Jason rubbed his face to get away from those memories.

What was he doing here?

This chapter was long over. After all, they both went their separate ways and there was only Batman left for Bruce anyway.

He had become a real Dickhead.

Suddenly, soft feathers brushed the sensitive back of his neck and Jason turned to the side, only to find Dick's profile in front of his nose. The winged one had stretched over the back of the couch and was looking at the old photograph with curiosity.

Immediately, when Dick caught sight of the dark figure of the Batman, he began to growl, as he could still remember well all that the latter had done to him.

Before Jason could even react, the taller one's tail shot out and snarlingly whipped the photo hard onto the floor a few feet away, causing the frame to shatter and the individual pieces to scatter across the living room.

Stunned, the Outlaw stared at his broken memento before rage seized him and Grayson winced, due to the sudden loudness:

"The hell Dick! Have you lost all your senses?"

But the only thing Jason could read in those blue eyes was incomprehension and pure confusion. Not knowing what he had done wrong, Dick quickly retreated to the bedroom to escape the Outlaw's wrath.

Jason himself just groaned in annoyance before getting up and fetching a broom. Grumbling, the black-haired man swept all the broken glass into a small pile before pulling the old photo out from under the shards. In fact, this picture was quite important to him, since Alfred had once given it to him as a birthday present.

No matter where Jason went or how questionable his actions were, he always found a friend to talk to in the old butler and he enjoyed their clandestine meetings in Gotham's cafes. Alfred was simply, no matter what, family. *2

As the Outlaw pulled up the photo, something caught his eye. Astonished, he turned

it to its backside, where something was written:

'Because there is no reason to believe that the future has not more to offer. All the best wishes, Alfred.'

A smile crept onto the black-haired man's lips.

Yes, Al would always be family.

Following an impulse, Jason turned off the lights with a well-aimed hand broom toss, leaving only the full moon to illuminate the room, settled down on the polished wooden floor, and lay flat on his back, holding the photo above his face.

Why had he never actually drawn the line and cut all the strings between himself and Bruce? Why did he still care what happened to each of them?

Why had he given Damian the communicator, even though he didn't really like him at the time?

Jason lowered his hand, including the photo, outstretched beside him and now stared impassively at his white ceiling.

He felt the need to run out and look for Damian. This whole thing was getting dangerous for him. Because that boy from back then was coming forward again, who enviously looked at happy families and in his desperate hope to once again experience that feeling of being a part of one, accepted Damian as his brother.

At the same time, Jason thought that he had eradicated this part of himself. Because it was a very vulnerable part that should not be hurt anymore.

Suddenly, a certain turkey took in his field of vision and looked down at him nervously.

Jason, however, didn't even move a muscle as he monotonously asked him a question:

"Tell me Dickie, how have you stood it all this time in this family? Did it ever give you anything back that made all those years of fighting worthwhile?"

Dick just tilted his head in confusion and Jason laughed out:

"Just look at yourself! You're even more broken than the rest of us now."

Richard furrowed his brows slightly in concern before disappearing from Jason's field of vision again, and the Outlaw just weighed whether or not he should get drunk today. After all, alcohol always took your mind off things.

Suddenly, Jason felt a pressure on the side of his waist and was quickly joined by an increasing warmth.

Dick had sat down right next to him and was looking with increasing curiosity at the pile of shards sparkling in the moonlight in front of him. His tail tip swished back and forth with interest as he carefully wiggled his claws around the many shards to create new glowing reflections. As he did so, two of his wings rested lightly on the Outlaw's belly.

As if casually, Jason suddenly began to speak:

"You didn't have to apologize to me in your recording, by the way. After all, I didn't treat you with much respect. Besides, you had your own problems to deal with back then. Founding the Teen Titans, finding your own identity…It was a pretty big deal for you."

Jason drew his brows together before continuing:

"You can't make everyone your problem Dick. And certainly not compensate for what Bruce can't do. That kind of thing will break your neck eventually."

Smirking, he looked to the taller man, who was still curiously playing with the broken pieces:

"Whereas, you're already a mess anyway."

Dick now turned his head around and looked questioningly at the Outlaw. To him, the behavior of his friend lying on the ground didn't make much sense. First he was mad at him, then he just lay there quietly, and now his spirits seemed to lift again. Strange creatures these naked bipeds.

His tail swung over to the couch and the tip briefly disappeared between the seat cushions to pull something out. Promptly, this something landed on the Outlaw's stomach and Jason winced in surprise. He took the small box between his fingers before laughing in amusement:

"I was wondering where these disappeared to."

Jason took a cigarette out as well as the lighter from the cigarette box and lit them. He just lay flat on the floor again and stared dumbly at the ceiling while his first puff of smoke flew into the room.

Dick still did not understand this behavior. He thought that maybe this good smelling stuff was making him normal again. He unceremoniously lay down next to Jason and did the same to the Outlaw. Maybe then he would understand.

As his wings lay stretched out across Jason's body, this now elicited another amused snort from him:

"No matter how messed up the situation, you circus clown never change."

A few moments passed in which they both just lay there silently staring at the ceiling.

At some point, Jason's brows drew together thoughtfully. He blew out the cigarette smoke in his mouth before, lost in thought, he asked a question:

"Dick, what is a family, anyway? Is that really what we call ourselves?"

He looked sideways for a moment, where only Richard's puzzled eyes met him, before Jason sighed heavily and looked up again:

"You know, there's something I've always wanted to tell you." Jason stood up briefly and went to the kitchen for a bottle of liquor before rejoining Dick. Chuckling, he now tipped himself a big gulp before continuing to speak:

"I need that now. Otherwise I can't get my lips to open anyway. So feel honored that I've got such a loose tongue because of that satanic brat, and that you don't understand anything I'm about to tell you anyway."

Dick didn't understand. Was he perhaps like this because their little friend had suddenly left? He had felt such a...sadness emanating from his tobacco dispenser all along. Why was he sad? Would the little one never return? But it couldn't be that. After all, he had not said goodbye to them. So why was he sad?

Jason took another big swig from his bottle before he started talking:

"You know Dick, I used to go to your circus with my dad. I wanted to see the show so much, that he had stolen two tickets from some pensioners in the park. The program had been really great."

Jason stretched his arm toward the ceiling, as if he was reaching for something:

"But then when I saw you with your parents up there, you were the most incredible thing I'd ever seen. You were everything I ever wanted. Great parents, free of any worry, you were...so happy and already a role model for me at that point." *3

Jason lowered his arm again and continued to daydream about his past:

"Then, as the new Robin, when I learned that you were my predecessor, I couldn't have been prouder of myself. I was where I always wanted to be. On a level with you, where being happy was so easy and I wanted nothing and no one to ruin that for me. Not even you.

I knew I was just your replacement for Bruce and I wanted to be more than that. I wanted to be better than the perfect Dick Grayson. Better than my role model and for that I pushed you away from me as best as I could because you were my competition. Besides...Besides, I was afraid that if you wanted the Robin back, Bruce wouldn't pay any attention to me anymore. You were the biggest threat to my happiness."

Jason snorted in amusement:

"It's almost laughable, considering that I was ultimately the cause of my own failure."

He took another sip of the high-proof liquor and was silent again for a moment before another question crossed his mind:

"Do you think we could have been something like brothers? If I had done it more like Tim and looked at you as a mentor of sorts that I look up to. Would it have been different between us?"

Jason thought about this, but quickly dismissed it. Wearily, he sighed:

"Why mourn over spilled milk? Won't do any good anyway."

He was about to put the bottle back on when it was taken from him.

"Hey!"

Dick had swiped the liquor with his tail and was now smelling it testingly. He snorted once and then drank the generous contents completely empty, which Jason watched with wide eyes. Sullenly, however, he then said:

"Sure, serve yourself. It's not like I wanted to drink that. But if you die now because maybe your mutant body can't handle the stuff, you'll explain that to the kid."

Jason scratched his head once, then groaned in annoyance:

"Man, you guys making me all fuzzy."

Earth Orbit - Watchtower:

Batman rubbed his gloved hands over his exhausted face. Apparently, Jason wasn't well disposed towards him either, but that wasn't important at the moment. He was so close to pulling out all the stops to get Damian and Dick make by heart. However, this case did not fall into the red category, as they had not yet caused any recordable damage. Charging the Justice League with this was not necessary at this stage, according to the established protocol. Besides, it was far too dangerous to confront even one of them with Dick. He was on a different level. And actually, it made no sense to Bruce that Damian would go to Jason out of all people. After all, the last time they spoke with each other he had been at Dick's funeral, and on a social level Jason´s relationship with the family was more than scanty. The phone call showed that once again clearly.

Why was everyone giving him problems.

"Don't you think it would be better if you let him know about Joker? After all, he's staying in his city right now."

Batman turned to Superman, who was standing a few feet behind him, looking at his friend with his concerned eyes.

"Jason still seeks for his revenge against the Joker. If he knew he was in his immediate vicinity, he'd probably hunt him down, and I don't doubt that he would kill him if he had the chance. So it's better if he doesn't know." Bruce replied dryly before turning back to his computers and adding: "Besides, I've already assigned someone to take care of this."

Clark's wrinkles on his forehead deepened even more: "I know, according to you it shouldn't be any of my business, but don't you think it would be better to trust Jason a little more? After all, he used to be your partner."

Bruce didn't look at him as he answered:

"Precisely because he was my partner, I gave him more than one chance, and right now he's at his last. He's too unpredictable and I'm not going to risk him forfeiting that chance too. And you're right, it's none of your business."

Clark's voice grew more serious:

"Jason might not, but Damian is. After all, he's my son's best friend and I owe him my life."

Clark could hear his counterpart grumbling sullenly. It was just the way it always was. As soon as it became personal, Bruce blocked off and even more so when he himself was questioned in the process. The Kryptonian was really worried about his friend, even though he was still angry with him for allowing Jon to put himself in danger and Damian to still be exposed to it.

But it was important now to resolve this mess. Insistently, Clark put a hand on Batman's shoulder and authoritatively turned him away from his computers so that he was confronted by strong blue eyes:

"Bruce, let me help you."

Clark looked at him demandingly, as it was really important for him to help in this matter. However, as usual, the bat just blocked:

"This case, according to protocol, is not yet a Justice League matter. What makes it my own problem."

Superman slapped his hand over his face:

"Jesus Bruce! We're not a business where family matters have no place. Most of us are friends and I know you don't like being part of it, but you are. None of them would have a problem helping to find Damian and Dick."

Bruce was getting fed up. That this idiot never thought about the consequences either:

"You of all people should know what Dick is capable of right now Clark! Neither of you can take him on in an emergency and I don't want to risk any lives. Nor do I want to have to explain to your son why his father isn't coming back. The same goes for Dick. If he actually regained his memories and he knew he was to blame for the death of a friend, he would be completely devastated by it. You heard him in the recordings yourself. How he broke more and more with each one. I already don't even know if he would be able to live a normal life again. And if he had to face that guilt on top of all..."

Batman looked to the ground, gritting his teeth. He didn't even dare to think what would happen then.

"You can figure it out for yourself. I've already left him in this hell. He shouldn't have to go through any more than this. I don't want to lose him here too Clark."

Clark's features initially took on a sad tone as he saw how much Bruce was struggling with this. He was no different. He too had been allowed to see how the little eight-year-old Robin, who always saw the positive in things, became a stately Nightwing, with whom everyone enjoyed working with.

And Superman was also a part of what happened a year ago. They all were.

"Bruce, a lot of us knew Dick very well. It was always very easy for him to get people on his side and many of us were also on the scene when he was pulled into the portal. So don't put all the blame on yourself and let us help. Sure, people like me may not be as strong as Dick and I realize none of us should get hurt, but we have a distinct advantage over him."

Bruce just looked at him in confusion and Clark blithely pointed his finger at his head:

"We have your brilliant mind, and if there's one thing I know, it's that you're going to come around the corner with a plan that will not only catch your two runaways, but also leave everyone unharmed. It's always been that way and I always have faith in you. Besides, we've already caught him once. So we can do even better the second time."

Bruce's eyes just stared in wonder before thoughtfully making their way to the ground. But then he rubbed one of his gloved hands over his face, sighing heavily:

"I don't even know where they are Clark. Damian is not careless. He not only learned from me how to stay in the shadows, but also trained for years in the League of Assassins. That's why I can only keep waiting for him to finally make a mistake."

Clark just grinned back at him:

"If you're going to wait anyway, you'll have plenty of time to come up with a plan."

Suddenly, the Kryptonian's ears pricked up and he seemed to look off into the distance:

"There's a bus accident waiting for me. Contact me when you found them."

With that, Superman disappeared like a bolt of lightning toward Earth, leaving Batman alone with his computers.

Bruce just stood there. Thinking...analyzing...rationally weighing his options as usual...at least he tried.

"Why did you let Todd get away Grayson? We had already had that bastard and you just let him go?!"

Damian yelled at Dick as they were heading home from today´s patrol. They were flying the Batwing straight around a large skyscraper when the taller one replied composedly:

"It was more important to keep the passersby safe Damian. Jason was not the priority in this situation."

"Not the priority?! He's the one who caused all this chaos in the first place! If he hadn't intervened, we could have eliminated Professor Pyg!"

The corners of Dick's mouth tightened slightly in the basement region:

"Still? Damian for the ixth time. We don't kill!"

The boy folded his arms and leaned back in his seat petulantly:

"-tt- you can't fight crime if you become a criminal. That's bullshit! If you don't take out your enemies right away, they'll come at night and slit your throat open. Only a fool would think it wouldn't be like that."

Dick now snorted in amusement:

"Yeah, that was one of Bruce's favorite sermons, and you're right. Only a fool would think it wouldn't."

Damian's ears perked up. He was agreeing with him?

Dick continued:

"I'm not naive enough to think that Jason, for example, wouldn't want me dead. After all, he's tried many times before, but I am just too fabulous to be killed by him."

Grinning, he looked at Damian, who only acknowledged this with a roll of his eyes.

"But as soon as you start killing, you start dying."

Damian groaned in annoyance:

"What's that supposed to mean now?"

"The first time you kill, you cross a threshold that makes you indifferent to life and you can never go back. With each successive kill you lose respect for living things and eventually you don't even waste a thought on what you're doing. Sure killing is easy, but the inner conflict is not. I don't even want to know who I would be if I killed."

"-tt- what kind of conflict should arise? This scum is worth no more than pesky gnats anyway."

Dick's brows drew together in concern:

"You don't even know how deep into this you already are. Your personality shows it best. You have no respect for life. You didn't care when you almost killed Tim. You don't care when you kill people, but a hero should care and can't act on that level. The only thing you achieve by doing that is hatred on both sides and fear of your person. Kill your enemies and the revenge of their followers will be ten times worse and know that you will be punished with a lonely life. After all, Bruce never trusted you either."

Slightly depressed, Damian looked at the dashboard as Dick added:

In the end, you'll be just as lost as Jason."

Damian just snorted disapprovingly:

"Is that why you let him go?"

"If I hadn't let Jason go, everything would have gotten even bloodier. I don't want to let him kill any more than he already has. It just makes him more broken and lonely. I hope he finds his way soon...and as bloodlessly as possible."

Light prancing footsteps echoed in the distance, but Damian paid no further attention. He just stubbornly looked out of the passenger window and added grumbling:

"-tt-, who needs Todd."

"Wakey wakey little birdie."

Powerfully something hard bolted with Damian's stomach, so that it drove the air out of his lungs and brought the boy rudely back to the here and now.

He had great difficulty filling them again, gasping, and realizing what situation he was in right now.

"Hehehe...you've slept long enough Sleeping Beauty. Time to play a little with Uncle Jay."

Oh fuck. Not this fucking clown.

Damian's eyes fluttered open and stared unfocused at the ground. While he could slowly feel his body again, he noticed something. His hands remained numb and so did his legs.

Damian hung tied up barely a meter above a colorful floor. Were those pillows?

His legs were lashed tightly against his chest and his hands similarly against his back, which was a more than uncomfortable position.

He tried to lift his head to determine where he even was, but that turned out to be a painful endeavor. That his neck hurt unpleasantly due to the long hanging down was only the lesser evil. The fact that his head was suddenly bursting, a completely different level and the disgusting smell of blood, as well as a sticky cool feeling at the back of his head, only confirmed that he had received a proper blow to the skull. The last head injury was not even a month ago. He wondered if that was such a healthy thing.

"No hello for old Uncle Jay, Robbie? Yet I was so happy to have run into you in this alley. I've been soooooo bored lately."

Damian could hear the clown's voice take on a theatrical tone and footsteps prance across the floor:

"Batsy's not showing his face in Gotham lately, and killing people without being hunted by him is like eating an unseasoned steak, you know? It just lacks the pizzazz, the punchline, the crème de la crème. Actually, I was planning on making a deal with some arms dealers in this town to get our relationship back on track a little bit, but I heard recently that a certain someone has been putting the screws to these poor souls. You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, would you Robbie?"

Damian noticed how the tone became more serious towards the end. The clown had to mean the dealers Todd had taken out less than a week ago. Why was the world always so freaking small!

Damian managed to lift his head and found himself confronted with the angry eyes of the Joker, who was looking down on him. However, he then just shrugged his shoulders indifferently:

"Whereby you do not kill. Well, it doesn't matter, since I've found something far better, after all."

The clown patted Damian amused with his purple gloved hand two times gently on the head and he heard the clanking of metal at his side. He had a crowbar with him! So that had brought him back from his delirium.

"Oh little Robin. We're going to have so much fun together."

The first blow followed and the boy gasped heavily as his back was hit hard.

Fuck, that really hurt.

"Nijahaha..., my fingers are tingling just thinking about all the things we can do! Tea parties..."

Hit...

"Sleep overs where we tell each other scary stories..."

Hit...

"or I know! A MAKEOVER! I'm sure Batsy will love that. By the way, I got us a camera so we can take beautiful photos. Then we can share all our wonderful experiences with him. Isn't that great?"

Joker suddenly paused, finally giving Damian room to catch his breath. His mouth was already filling with blood as one of the blows hit the side of his cheek, causing some of his teeth to cut into his cheek. His eyes flinched as the flash of the instant camera hit him. Joker, meanwhile, continued to speak, slightly dejected:

"Actually I'm sorry to admit to you, that I've already started doing this last idea without you. I just couldn't restrain myself. At least not with your face."

The clown waved the resulting picture back and forth to make it dry faster and then held it in front of Damian's face. When Damian saw the colorful photo, he was startled at first, before his expression darkened and he angrily glared at his counterpart. Hair sloppily dyed green with spray paint, the face white and only some black around the masked eyes, as well as red around the mouth formed the exception. Added to this was just his own blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Well what do you say, do you like it? I put extra effort into your smile since you always look so serious. After all, I like to talk at eye level you know? Even though it's only visual, but we'll get to the rest soon enough."

Joker briefly patted Damian's cheek and in response he tried to bite him. Amused, the clown withdrew his hand:

"Hoho, easy boy."

"Don't touch me you bastard!"

Damian spat at him, noticing how his jaw hurt uncomfortably and more blood dripped down the corner of his mouth.

"No no, has Batsy still not taught you any manners?

Immediately, Damian got the next punch to the stomach area for this action. He could have sworn it didn't take much more before his ribs cracked.

"But don't worry little Robin. Uncle Jay will take care of it. After all, I already have experience raising little Robins. Hehehe..."

Damian tried to collect himself again, as everything just hurt at the moment and his head was spinning again from the physical stress. Blurry he saw how the Joker lay down on the cushions under him and now that his field of vision was no longer obscured by the clown he could also inspect more this room. Or rather, the dilapidated hall.

Gray floor and gray walls made more colorful by graffiti, as well as various bloodstains that paved the building here and there. Behind Joker something seemed to flicker. It was a fire ton, in which a long staff was stuck. An uneasy feeling crept over Damian And Joker noticed how his protégé inspected his new surroundings:

"Nice, isn't it? My co-workers really made a good job decorating this little hideout. At least the ones who got on my nerves did. I'm always fascinated by how far people can still run with their throats slit. By the way, our current record is twenty meters. But this is only a fun little game I like to play from time to time. What about you Robbie? Not up for a little chirping?"

Damian's chin was raised with the crowbar and he was still glaring at the grinning clown.

But then the words did find their way out of his aching jaw:

"How did you know it was me? After all, all I have on is just a mask."

Joker's grin widened:

"And even that's not yours. Ah this old piece of cloth brings back memories and I must say Batsy really does an exceptionally good job with these masks. The last time I saw this thing I could hit it as many times as I wanted and it didn't even come off once. And looking at your delicate face, I have to say that it hasn't lost much in its hold. But time will tell in more detail."

Joker lowered the crowbar:

"But I'm surprised you think I wouldn't recognize you because of that casual look. Such a grumpy child's face only comes around once. And who would I be if I didn't recognize Batsy's little angels? After all, I want you to experience the same love from me that Robin two did. My personal Robin has really molted, don't you think? How is he doing, by the way? Is Batsy still having problems with him?"

Damian just gritted his teeth and got even angrier when the clown talked about Jason like that. He wasn't exactly sure why, but it really pissed him off:

"Fuck you, you joke of a clown!"

He took another blow to his jaw in return and Damian gasped hard as more of his blood graced the floor.

"Ah ah, that's not the way we address someone. However, we'll get that bad behavior out of you and put a smile on that serious face. But first..."

Joker stood up and went to the burning barrel to pull out the ominous rod. To Damian's horror, it turned out to be a branding iron with a glowing red J on the end just waiting to burn into something.

Joker stroked his fingers over the cold shaft in anticipation:

"Let's play a little Blindman's Buff, shall we? I'll cover my eyes and have to try to burn your little eyes shut. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Damian just scowled at him and spat:

"Burn in hell you bastard!"

Joker picked up the camera, chuckling:

"There's always time for that later. Say cheese!"

He positioned himself so that both he and Damian and the glowing branding iron could be easily seen and snapped a selfie:

"Uhh, Batsy gets our picture book from me for Christmas. But now let's stew you first before the iron gets cold."

Joker stood in front of the boy put a hand over his eyes:

"Now hold still and don't blink."

Eyes widening in shock, Damian watched as the glowing J shot towards him in a flash, and following it´s direction of travel, it would land directly in his face. Fuck, if he did nothing, he would eventually lose his eyesight or burn up other vital organs.

He thought feverishly how he could escape the whole thing unharmed, however, he could only think of a better alternative to the face.

So just before the iron struck, Damian pulled his head to the side so that the glowing J missed its intended target and instead sank powerfully into Damian's collarbone.

His screams filled the hall, coupled with the Joker's loud laughter, and the smell of burning flesh lingered around their noses. Damian felt sick to his stomach. A natural reaction of his body considering the tremendous pain that sent his pulse skyrocketing. But he wasn't going to take the nerve to vomit at Joker's feet. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to suppress his screams. After all, this sadist only wanted him to scream, and he certainly would not become his entertainment program.

Finally, the iron was withdrawn and Damian exhaled in relief. He hadn't even noticed that he had been holding his breath. However, this brief moment of calm did not last long:

"Oh Robbie, you mustn't turn your head away! This isn't going to be any fun like that."

Joker came closer, grabbed the boy's chin and pulled his head to the side to take a closer look at the burn:

"Hm...so the J shows up well, but next time we try it, we should do it again with more heat. It probably looks better on the skin that way. I'll put more tinder inside the fire."

Joker stepped back up to the fire barrel and pulled out a bucket of strange gel. He dropped the branding iron carelessly to the ground before looking boredly first at the barrel and then at Robin. Finally he shrugged his shoulders:

"Oh, what's the use of being stingy."

He simply tossed the bucket into the barrel and quickly stepped back several feet. Immediately a huge stabbing flame followed and for a moment it felt as if the enormous heat was burning Damian's face. He squinted his eyes and heard the Joker's shrill laughter in the background:

"Nijahahaha... That really gets the mood headed, doesn´t it Robbie?"

Fortunately for him, the flame quickly died down, leaving the boy unharmed. However, this was only mild comfort.

Damian's eyes opened again, and he saw that sick bastard sticking his branding iron into the hot barrel, which was already melting in some places.

"You know little Robin, what I'm wondering? When molten iron cools on your skin, does it stay on your body forever? I bet you're dying to find the answer to that question too. Let's replace your eyeballs with metal. It'll look great in our album for Batsy. Although...let's just do one eye. I'm not a monster and these dark green eyes are at least a change from the usual blue. I regret that I could never do something like that with our good Nightwing. He certainly understood the fun of the job and didn't put on such a scowl as you do. I bet he would have done very well as a little JayJay, too. Don't you think?"

Damian was getting fed up now. His expression took on a new level of gloom:

"Don't you dare talk about him like that! He would never have been like you!"

Joker's brows lifted in glee:

"Hoho, did I hit a sensitive subject there? Did you care about the first Robin? And here I thought you didn't care about anyone."

Joker came closer and squatted in front of Damian's face, so they were both at eye level:

"Believe it or not, I was sad too when I heard he bit the dust. After all, it should be my privilege to kill Batman´s little boys and make you suffer. And Nightwing in particular should have died at my hands and not by those of others. Just imagine what Batsy would have done then."

Damian blew a fuse and hissed angrily:

"Imagine what I would have done to you. I know enough inhumane torture methods that would never cross your limited brain and would easily wipe that filthy grin off your face."

The corners of Joker's mouth pulled further apart:

"Two for the price of one. How dreamy would that have been. You know, that's what I love about you Robbie."

Joker tapped against Damian's forehead:

"You may follow the rules of Batman, but on the inside you're not far from being part of the other side. Am I not right?"

Damian's eyes grew wide and he felt transported back a few hours to the alley where he had almost beaten the small-time criminal to death with great satisfaction. Richard's words made more sense at that moment than ever before.

"Oh little Robin, there is so much potential in you that we can tap into together. So where were we..."

Joker rose and now went back to the barrel to retrieve the glowing iron. With glee he looked at the dripping top where the J used to be:

"So point one for future supervillains, recognition value. So let's work on your neat appearance."

As if in slow motion, the clown with the hot metal was coming at him and Damian was still hissing:

"Stay away from me you bastard!"

But the next moment the boy was also roughly grabbed by the hair and his head was pulled up, so that this time he would not escape his fate. The glowing iron was pointed directly in front of his left eye. Finally, Joker added:

"Sing for me, Little Robin."

And he lashed out with the iron.

Notes:

*1 Those are two canon examples of Jasons and Bruces relationship as father and son.

*2 * Jason did meet Alfred from time to time in cafes, when his relationship with Bruce wasn´t good. Alfred was the only member of the family Jason let to get to himself.

*3 RED HOOD AND THE OUTLAWS ANNUAL # 1

These are Jason's thoughts from the comic. But he couldn't bring himself to tell Dick how much of a role he played in his life even though he wanted to. So I helped a little out. ^^