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Jason promised not to kill. But Donnie was an old threat of his come back to haunt him. Jason spent alot of his time avoiding the pimp, just trying to run drugs and steal parts. Anything to avoid having to turn tricks.
How Donnie got out of prison, Jason could care less. He was out and he didn’t just grab some kid. He got Jason’s bratty kid brother.
The Outlaws (all of them) were covering the rest of the basis, taking down this thing with Black Bat and Oracle and Batwoman. But Jason wanted Donnie. Jason who still had yet to be brought back publically except for Bruce’s little drops here and there with having Jason come to a small gala or be spotted with the Wayne siblings. Vicki Vale would spot them leaving a court house together in three days.
But Jason was very good at avoiding the paparazzi getting his face. He wanted to deal with this personally. He wanted to scare Donnie into silence. And if he wasn’t silent, well, alot of bad things happen to people who mess with kids in prison. He can’t see anyone listening to a guy like Donnie anyways. He was known for being a liar and swindling.
He was also known for running. Like all the other creeps that heard Red Hood was out to get them.
“Planning on going somewhere?” Jason waited in that apartment like a creep for nearly twenty minutes. He can be theatrical too. He didn’t even bother wearing his emblem nor a mask. He’s sure his green eyes are practically glowing right now. Damn, his self control is good. Dickie would give him a gold star if he could… or Dickiebird would rip into the fucker infront of him.
The gun was pulled on him in seconds. Donnie looked worse for wear, about to shit his pants. He could see a big batman sized footprint on the side of his head.Jason flips around and avoids the shots. One hit his chest, but his armor deflected it. Anther bullet his his arm, but the pit magic was doing it’s thing. Or the anger. Who cares?
He pinned the man down on the ground, the gun thrown aside. Jason used the pocket knife in his pocket to ride against his neck.
“Do you know who I am?” Jason asked, slowly.
“I don’t know anything,” The criminal begged. Jason remembered having to do something similar when they held a twelve year old that apparently was five dollars under quota for the week. They told him to beg about not having to sell his body off, they laughed and had him scamper off with five dollars short of what was supposed to last him a week.
“Guess again,” He snapped, “You gave me a scar right on my chin from a glass bottle. You were drunk. Think really hard.”
“Jason,” his eyes widened, “But you’re-”
“I don’t feel dead,” Jason gritted, “Alive and well in fact. And very pissed off. Because I heard that you got your hands on someone that kinda matters to me. Yeah, he’s a brat but he’s my little brother. And you knew that. The little Wayne kid.”
“Mikey-”
“Is a dead man,” Jason smirked, “Or will be. I hear Red Hood has connections in prison. Pedos don’t last long and neither do kid pimps, do they?”
“You’re the Red-”
“Or I know him very well,” Jason pressed the knife in harder. A thin line of blood forming. Donnie was skinnier than Jason, weak. This had to be why he bullied all the little kids- to feel big. But kids grow up and this street kid turned his life to protect those who cannot protect themselves, “and he’s very pissed.”
“I’m sorry,” he cried, “I’m sorry. Please don’t-“
“Don’t kill you? Send you to prison with a death sentence? Turn you in? You’re you inside out?” Jason asked. He didn’t apply more pressure to the knife but the hand. He enjoyed the small gasp, the dilation of his pupils.
The green haze settling over caused Jason to release the crook and get up before kicking him in the stomach, moving the criminals gun to the side and grabbing his
phone
special to vigilantism.
“You’re going to give me all the information you have or I’m going to kill you,” Jason threatened.
“They’ll kill me if it ever-”
“Then I guess you better choose wisely,” Jason yelled, “And remember, I’m a whole lot more unhinged than your average scumbag. Got it, Donnie? I would start singing before I get really angry.”
The bullet to the kneecap sold the man to start sharing everything. From human trafficking to guns to drugs to who was involved. Jason felt that green haze take over, he could kill them all. He could kill each and every damn person who fucking wronged him. He could kill the joker.
But memory of Damian’s tiny shaking body kept him at ease. Tonight wasn’t for him. It was for the kid- and every other person that had ever been hurt by this scumbag. Jason was supposed to be the hero of this tale- not the executioner.
“Can I please go?” And damn did Donnie look bloody after Jason was done with him. But it wasn’t enough. Jason needed this to last. Needed Donnie and every other damn criminal out there to understand what happens when you fuck with kid. What happens when you fuck with Damian Wayne or
Robin.
“Where’s the stove?” Jason asked before throwing his own Red Hood emblemed Batarang. The man held it infront of him. Jason’s intention was clear as the man whimpered and dragged himself to the stove. Coward.
Guys that hurt kids aren’t going to try hurting anyone bigger and badder than them.
“Turn it on and let the emblem sit over it,” Jason directed, “High as you can.”
The flame hitting heating the metal filled Jason with something that scared him. Something he wanted to embrace but knew he couldn’t. It could only go so far. The hour passed with begs and whimpers as Jason made sure his gun pointed near the head. That metal had to be scorching.
“Pick it up,” Jason directed.
“It’ll burn,” He reasoned, like that’s what he was worried about.
“I don’t give a shit about your goddamn hand. Pick it up and don’t drop it. Scream if you want but if you drop it then I’m repainting your shit wall with brain matter,” Jason threatened.
“You’re fucked up kid,” Donnie whispered as he resigned himself to his fate. Reaching his hand out for the searing metal.
Yeah… I am
The screams of the man who tortured him sent chills down his spine. It was gorgeous. To see one of Damian’s tormentors fall. To see one of Jason’s tormentors be the one behind the gun. Jason couldn’t help himself when he walked forward and grabbed the burning hand with the metal before forcing it to the fact of the criminal. He held it there while the man crumpled to the ground.
But not as fucked up as the guy who pimps out little boys.
“Tell your friends you met the Red Hood. Tell them my message. Anything else, and you die motherfucker. Along with them. Am I clear?”
He screamed bloody fucking murder.
It was fucking terrifying.
It was fucking beautiful.
“I can’t hear you,” Jason laughed. The screams got louder until he passed out.
He looked worse for wear. The Red Hood Bat burnt into hand and face with ripped off skin. Broken bones. A leg bent out of shape. Broken ribs. Cut marks across his throat. His arm was popped out of socket.
Some of it Jason can’t remember.
Some of it he can.
But, it was worth it, right?
This was for his little brother, right?
We have a line, Jason,
Bruce told him,
a line we can’t cross no matter what. We seek justice. Not vengeance.
Jason put down his gun and made that call to the commissioner. He did enough that night. He walked off. Those dark thoughts running through his head.
“You okay, Jaybird?” Roy frowned when he walked out. He looked worried. The type of worried that Roy had when he thought Jason reached the deep end of pit madness. Which wasn’t good ever. But when Jason fought it, it always left him with mixed emotions. Sick feelings in his stomach.
“I need my dad,” Jason told him.
“Okay,” Roy nodded, “Let's get you home, buddy.”