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The night was quiet. Still. A cold chill of humidity lay thick and heavy in the air, the streams of rain leaving glinting paths that trailed down murky panes of glass and washed them clean. Gotham clean, at least. Which was pretty damned crappy, but choosers didn't get to be beggars, and Jason had already chosen Gotham.It didn't suck to finally be home, though. After the whole Disastrous Day Off with Dick, well…some engagements still couldn't be broken, but Jason had damn well done his best to wrap up what couldn't just be put off. Or handed over to…interested parties.He'd enjoyed the whole thing even less than anticipated, the impromptu little whirlwind tour feeling nostalgic in the characteristically shitty way anything in his life usually felt nostalgic.This time it was the League, the sprees they'd send him on during training where it was like they'd just grabbed a dartboard from the nearest smoke-choked hole in the wall masquerading as a bar, pinned a map over over it, plotted his path from there and then turned him loose to go make make mountains move with almost nothing.Not enough food, not enough sleep, not even enough fucking weapons because the bastards made it a point to make sure their operatives could and would not only deliver but overdeliver on a friggin' austerity budget first before giving them a reasonable amount of fucking anything.Hey though, not like it was life and death, right?He tilted his head to follow the sound of sirens in the distance, marking the area as Red Robin's route. The H.U.D. funneled him the info: hostage situation at one of the smaller banks. Sounded like a few criminals had finally wised up, hit the spots with a little less security and fewer places for masked bone-breakers to hide.
Might actually get a little hairy this time.
Jason still made no move to abandon his current position. He'd help if asked—be kind of a dick move not to at this point, especially after the intel the kid had slipped him for his last job—but so far the comms had been silent.He wasn't going to overstep; he owed the kid that modicum of respect, at least. The Bats each had their own streak of territorialism—even Mr. Sunshine and Smiles. Point of fact, especially Mr. Sunshine and Smiles; he'd fucked off and nabbed a whole city to claim, a la Daddy Bats. No reason to think the kid was that much different.Besides…he might have trusted Hood as part of a team, but Jason was under no illusions this meant Red trusted him as part of a pair.Speaking of.… «12 degrees northwest,» Jason noted in League dialect, arms still folded as he continued his lean against an old air-conditioning unit. «Welcome to the jungle, Little Prince.»If the Demon was in a good mood, he would stop there, halt the exercise and demand to know what had revealed his movements.Jason would give him his answer—the flash of his sword had glinted off a pool of rain on a building several yards ahead of them both—and send him back to run the approach again.A shuriken came hurtling in his direction, razor-sharp blades carving through the air end-over-end.…Apparently academics would come after application tonight.Jason waited a half-beat before stepping towards the direction the weapon was seeking to steer him away from.He pivoted into the move and was rewarded when he had just enough time to bring his forearm guard up to deflect the slash of a katana.Jason was a theater kid, after all. He knew misdirection when he saw it."How did you know I was strafing you?" Damian hissed, a small snarl escaping his lips as he dove in for a second attack and held the pressure, seeking to push Jason off balance.As if."Wouldn't you like to know?" Jason teased, knowing perfectly well that his smirk would carry through the voice modulator.Hey, if the kid was gonna be in a mood, at least one of them oughta be having some fun.Damian whipped the katana back and around in an arc that aimed it towards Jason's wrist instead; harder to guard when the guard was the target. Or to be more exact, one of the inevitable weak spots in the guard. Not bad, as moves went.Jason made a harder dodge then, letting his steps carry him more fully out of range. In the harsh patches of industrial and neon lights, he could make out the nicks to his forearm guard now. He raised a brow at that.The rules on their meet-ups were perfectly clear. No one expected the kid to wield a useless blade out in the field, but that was why Damian was given both an operational load-out and a training load-out.And this was not a training weapon."Blade's a little lively there, ain't it?" He tilted his head to the side a little, giving the kid a chance to respond."Whatever is the matter, Hood? Afraid of adding a little danger to the game?"Jason rolled his eyes. "You really gotta get better at this whole tough-talk thing, kid." He snorted then. "Who knows? Maybe I'll even add it to the curriculum if you ask real nice.""I am quite sure I could get lessons from any common Gotham goon if I wished to speak like you."" 'S that so?" he inquired lazily. «I'd love to know which of your common Gotham goons speaks like this.»The brat scowled, making a straight lunge for Jason that banked on sheer speed to make up for the lack of stealth.Sensing the oncoming flurry, Jason took a favorite approach and opted the fuck out.
Really want to win the game, kid? Don't play the fucker at all.
He allowed his evasive maneuvers to go wide, versus the tighter, more precise moves he would've opted for if he'd wanted to stay engaged and ready himself for parries. Tricky against someone as both fleet-footed and relentless as this particular Robin tended to be, but Hood's combo of sheer explosive power and a pretty fucking lethal level of speed himself was plenty to keep him well outside the path of the blade.To his credit, the kid didn't give up, pressing the attack ever forward in a way that left Jason precious little space to even consider a transition in tactics.Less to the kid's credit, he didn't even think of giving up.Which meant Jason wasn't the only one caught in the current pattern."Slow down"—Jason batted aside the tip of the katana where it had almost tagged his arm—"and think about what you're doing, kid. Speed is good and all, but it's still"—he rolled and came up with a kick aimed below the blade and at the kid's midsection, enough to force him back—"sloppy if you're jus' wastin' energy."The kid glowered at him from a crouch, center of weight kept low as he drew back his arms and resettled his grip, the patter of rain lightening even as he readied to renew his own onslaught. "You believe that merely because you haven't seen mine," he answered, voice fallen/sliding down into a seething whisper.Jason didn't need to be told twice.Which was why he stepped in. "Hard way it is, then."The kid dodged nimbly, obviously not having expected the switch in tactics but still quick enough on his feet in multiple senses to dodge it.He flitted backwards like a hummingbird with a grudge, movements light and with a hard-edged, unyielding sharpness to them.It took a special kind of skill to make a retreat feel like a threat.
Not bad, kid.
Too bad he still wasn't quick enough to catch the trap he was flitting right into.Jason met the kid's retreat with an abrupt one of his own, grinning behind the hood as the kid perched on top of an air-conditioning unit and took stock, now one rooftop removed from Hood himself.He marked with no small of relish the moment the kid figured it out—that Jason had used Damian's retreat to double his own."Coward!" he snapped, baring his teeth like a technicolored little Doberman. "Is the feared Red Hood now afraid to face Robin in combat?"Jason tilted his head, hip cocked to the side as the rain picked up speed, a soft murmur resonating through the background as it again went from mere strings to sheets. "Seriously? We're from the League of Assassins, kid. I didn't realize you had a moral objection to bein' slippery and not wasting energy.""And how much energy have you wasted in your refusal to fight?" the kid shot back, sneering openly as though convinced the tone of voice wasn't enough to convey the sentiment. "If you possess such great strategic wisdom, surely you are capable of disarming me and ending the encounter with far more swiftness than this."Hood snorted. "Sure—the 'Beat the Kid into the Ground' method is a tried-and-true classic. Stamp of approval from the League and everything. But showmanship's part of the game, too, kid, and it ain't just the one level—sometimes you gotta use a little more finesse.""As though you are capable of either.""Bold words from the munchkin who beat feet as soon as I did go on the offensive."The line worked beautifully, the kid's switch from baiting a hook to biting onto one himself happening in the space between blinks, the furious growl easier to track than the flurry of motion as he this time sent a full spray of projectiles Jason's way—enough that it forced Jason to maximize use of what sparse cover there was to be found on the current rooftop. And that was when he'd chosen one of the better-appointed ones in the vicinity. Hey, waiting for an ambush didn't have to mean setting himself up for one. The kid needed a challenge if Jason was gonna make him the real deal.The validation came swift and just shy of sweet when Robin used Hood's momentary taking of cover as his own chance to vanish from sight, forcing Jason to push back into the open where he could at least keep his own lines of sight clear.Which meant he had a very fucking clear view when the kid rocketed from the shadows with his sword arcing in a vicious sweep aimed rather convincingly at Jason's neck.Jason was killing the whole teaching gig tonight, honestly.Besides, whatever the kid may have been telling himself (and anyone else who'd listen), he didn't actually want Jason dead again. Just mangled a lil bit. Sibling shit, you know.And this time the kid didn't miss a beat, following through with the momentum he'd generated with the first strike and pushing off the instant his feet made contact with the ground to leap forward and close the distance he'd already anticipated from Jason's retreat.The whole sequence was so smooth Jason almost didn't want to interrupt it.Of course an almost didn't keep him from spinning an elbow straight into the kid's solar plexus, using the natural rebound from the blow to lash his arm out and seize Robin's wrist with enough velocity that the move itself qualified as a strike.The kid attempted to yank back before he'd registered the position he was in, and Jason didn't resist, grinning as the kid's own motion slammed a nerve near his elbow against the unforgiving metal edge of the same air conditioner where Jason had been taking refuge moments prior.Disarmed in two…fucking…steps. "What was that about swiftness, again?" He made sure to let the grin show even through the flatness of his modulator, maintaining his grip on the still-flailing kid even as he took possession of the liberated weapon that had fallen at his feet. "And for the record, Little Prince, being a teacher ain't about winnin'. It's about teaching, believe it or fucking not. There's only so much strategic wisdom I'm gonna impart if I end every fight two seconds in."And not that I mind improvising lesson plans, kid, but is this really what you wanna spend the night on?" He gave the brat a pointed little jostle to highlight the current predicament. "Seems a little anticlimactic for you. Although I am pleased to note your offensive tactics sucked considerably less that time. Good work.""That you would presume yourself qualified to lecture myself on any matter is offensive to me.""Whoa. Not that I'm exactly one to talk, but where the hell's the attitude comin' from? And far as lecturing goes, pretty sure that ship has—""I thought you were going to be honest with me!" the kid cried, the bared teeth doing little to hide the note of distress, almost…hurt, in his voice. "All those things you said about what it meant to be Robin, and how Robin is not an executioner1a.""Not sure if you noticed, kid, but I'm not exactly sporting the Robin colors right now. Had a bit of an unplanned wardrobe change a while back."Well, that wasn't quite true. Wasn't quite false, either. Becoming and establishing himself as Red Hood—that was something that had been meticulously planned, every step along the way. He just hadn't planned to end up on that path in the first place.But, again: beggars couldn't be choosers, and shit like being beaten almost to death, blown up, yanked back into the mortal plane somehow, and jolted back to consciousness in a pool of magical fucking 'roids had a way of deleting choice itself as a concept.And Jason was pretty sure he'd done a little begging between stages, anyways.He didn't regret becoming the Red Hood. Hell no.But maybe he regretted a few of the steps along the way.Okay, scratch that—he definitely did."Clearly it should've happened sooner.""Look kid, how about you just—"His words were cut off by the sensation of Damian's canines sinking into his glove.
"The fuck?"
Jason jerked back and Damian seized the moment of disarray as an opening, darting forward to slip underneath Jason's guard and flank him the moment he was free.Jason didn't move, taking a moment longer to stare down at the abused appendage, flexing his hand in the glove sheathing it. The reinforced material had done its job, though, faint tooth marks left behind but failing to punch through the thick layers. "All right," he sighed, still inspecting his hand before finally setting his shoulders, "now I'm getting pissed."The ankle-biter (who apparently was well on his way to living up to the name) had a quick, if slightly ill-advised, retort: "I suppose I should be afraid, then? Isn't that why you killed Garzonas?"Jason turned to face the kid. Turned very, very slowly. "What?" he asked, his voice a fucking plateau."Felipe Garzonas. Son of the Ambassador of—""Yeah, I remember who he is, kid. What I don't know is who the fuck told you I killed him.""No one. I decided to examine some of our older case files.""What," Jason scoffed, "Gotham suddenly don't have enough current crimes to keep you and the giant furry occupied?""Father was…disinterested in hearing my insights."Jason frowned. "And what insights, exactly, were you trying to make him hear?""I…have not had sufficient opportunity to—""Oh, I get it. He benched your ass again."The sullen lack of response was answer aplenty."The fuck didn't Big Blue say anything to me about it 'fore he hightailed the hell out of here?""I…did not wish to cause him undue concern, lest he decide to cancel his sabbatical. Besides"—and here he drew himself up, shoulders set back proudly—"it soon became evident that there were matters here requiring my attention, whether or not I was currently engaged with fieldwork."So you were grounded, bored, and decided to go digging through my old crap for entertainment. Jason wanted to call Damian a nosy little shit for that, but he remembered how he'd been during his time as Robin, and kept his damned mouth shut. And he couldn't really blame the kid for being curious. He was even secretly a little flattered, maybe.
Not so thrilled with the fuckin' outcome, though.
"Alright," he finally said, "so what exactly did these files tell you?" As he waited for the answer he sheathed the requisitioned sword, hooking into a clip he'd added to his belts for precisely that purpose. He'd also added space in his harnesses for Dick's escrima sticks plus a handful of other weapons. Never knew when one of his siblings might, uh, drop something and need him to store it for safekeeping.Paid to be prepared out in the field and all."According to the files, the incident began when you heard the sound of screams coming from an apartment as you were passing by during a routine patrol."Upon entering the apartment, you encountered a male subject—one later to be identified as Felipe Garzonas—in a state of partial undress. According to what you later told Father, Garzonas immediately became hostile, threatening to kill you if you did not leave.""Like I'd fucking go for that," Jason grumbled, nose already wrinkling in disgust at the man's assumption not just that Jason could be so easily blown off, but more that what he'd done, the woman he'd victimized, could be blown off.But then that was the pattern the bastard had gotten used to, wasn't it?"When you did not yield," Damian continued, "he called upon one of his henchmen, armed with a Bowie knife, to help subdue you. While you had previously had the upper hand, this proved to be too much and Batman was forced to intervene."Jason rolled his eyes. "And by intervene, he means put the guy halfway through the fucking wall. Like, literally. All I saw after was legs and like a sliver of torso1b." Yeah, I got your anger issues and use of force right the fuck here, old man."After Garzonas and his henchman were neutralized as threats—"
Gettin' way ahead of yourself, kid.
"—you proceeded further into the apartment and came upon the source of the screams: Garzonas' victim. The victim was in a clear state of distress, with visible injuries as well. Upon being taken to the local precinct, the victim—""Her name was Gloria," Jason murmured. "Stanson." You gonna use his name, use hers, too."Yes. Ms. Stanson attested that this was in fact the second time that Garzonas had sexually assaulted her, the first time occurring whilst the two were on a first date previously."Jason clenched his fist, forcing the fury out with a long, slow breath. "She was so ashamed," he said, hoarseness pushing his voice down to almost a whisper. "Like the shit he'd done was her fault. Hadn't even reported the first time to the police 'cause she just wanted to forget the whole thing."Never woulda worked. Jason knew that as well as anyone.Bruce had been wrong about a hell of a lot of things, over the years. Especially when it came to Jason. But he hadn't been wrong if he'd thought Gloria's case had meant something extra to him.Damian shifted subtly on his feet, discomfort evident in his posture if not in his voice. "That is…understandable. Miss Swanson had been through a great trauma, and of a variety that historically both law enforcement and society as a whole have failed miserably in addressing sufficiently.""And Garzonas took full fucking advantage of that.""It would seem so. With this second incident, he had sent his henchman—the same one present in the apartment—to interdict Ms. Stanson as she left her modeling job and forcibly bring her to the building where Garzonas was currently staying. You and Batman had intervened, interrupting this subsequent set of crimes.""Not soon enough." Not nearly soon enough."As Nightwing has repeatedly pointed out to me, Hood, it is physically impossible for us to prevent all despicable acts that might take place, even within the bounds of a single city. And this is why our jobs often involve ensuring that the evildoers face justice for their atrocities.""Yeah, and how'd that work out. Just, remind me again."The brat narrowed his eyes, a strange tilt to his head as he stared Jason down. "You apparently navigated the situation using your own methods.""In English, brat."The kid responded by switching to League dialect to continue his recounting of the story, as though the deliberate misunderstanding would in any way phase Jason.Frankly he was just tempted to point out what a Dick Grayson move that had been. And here the brat was always pretending not to enjoy Nightwing's particular brand of humor.But there was little room to pay attention to humor—except in the most bitter of senses—as the kid continued narrating the sequence of events: how Jim Gordon had come and informed them that Felipe Garzonas was the son of José Garzonas, a man made nigh-untouchable in the United States by his position as an ambassador for the nation of Bogatago; Gloria's anguish at discovering that this same immunity extended to her assailant; Batman's plan to leverage drug charges against father and son to at least get them both recalled to their own country and subjected to public disgrace.Jason's dissatisfaction with this plan."The plan, however, proved a valid one," Damian noted importantly1c, "and Felipe found himself mere days away from being recalled, as Father had intended." He paused, maybe sensing the expectant eyebrow from Jason as he continued, now more hesitant, "However…after being booked and then released from custody, the younger Garzonas used his remaining freedom to place a call to Miss Swanson."
"A call."
"You were furious at this, and Batman had to restrain you from attacking Felipe on the spot.""Damn fucking right I was furious," Jason returned, voice sinking into a low growl like a stone dropping through a pond, and he could tell by the stiffening of the boy's spine that only the perceived loss of face was stopping him from taking a cautious step back. "It was already bad enough that we weren't nailing the bastard like he actually deserved in the first place.But hell, even prison over here woulda been less than he deserved, and the fucker still wasn't gonna get that, even." Nothing like State Departments playing Pass the Trash with the psychopath of the week."And even if we couldn't send him to prison, well…Bruce sure picked a hell of a time to suddenly want to do things by the book when his entire shtick is doing the shit the cops and lawyers and judges all can't. We didn't have to put Garzonas in jail to make him suffer…or to make it a whole hell of a lot harder to do to anyone else what he'd done to Gloria. Gloria, and I guaran-fucking-tee you other people, because the kind of shit he did isn't the kind of thing that's just a one-off, and that level of escalation didn't fit a first-time offender, either."He scoffed then. "Look, maybe the big guy had another plan up his sleeve. One he didn't feel the need to share with me. He's real gracious like that. All I know is whatever he had planned wasn't enough to save Gloria. We were too fucking late. Again," he bit out, feeling the word burn up his throat and fill his mouth with an acrid bitterness almost as sharp as the burn in his eyes. "Fuck," he whispered."You—yes. Unfortunately." Damian didn't do anything as obvious as clearing his throat, but the quick pause and quiet breath to compose himself were every bit as evident for Jason. In spite of Ra's and Talia's best efforts, the prickly lil bastard did have a heart. But then, Jason already knew that much."Jim Gordon provided you with Miss Stanson's home phone number so that you could attempt to contact her after Garzonas' call.""His rape threat, you mean. Or did Daddy Bats leave that little tidbit out of the file?""No," Damian replied quietly, wariness in the tilt of his shoulders and the subtle frontwards shift of his weight. "It was…present."The brat couldn't see it but Jason clenched his eyes shut for a moment before giving a little jerk of his head. "Go on."He didn't, however. "You do not trust Father." A couple of months ago, a month ago, maybe less than an hour ago, it would've been said as an accusation. An indictment.Now it was just an observation.Jason couldn't fully suppress the sarcasm but he took the edge of vitriol off it instead. "Gee," he asked blandly, the longing for the soft rasp of paper and bitter taste of filtered smoke suddenly gone nearly overwhelming, "whatever gave you that idea?"Damian watched him in silence.Jason sighed, the sound crackling out through the modulator. "I used to, you know. Hell, Bruce used to be my whole fuckin' world. Think I loved him way before I ever even trusted him."Damian frowned now. "Should it not have been the other way around?"His lips twisted into a smile. "Yeah. Maybe if he'd gotten a different kid. One who didn't have Soul-Shattering Trauma listed as the price of doing business."But he got me."And we see how that shitshow ended." Jason tilted his head, mirroring the way Damian had regarded him earlier. Lammervanger[martial eagle] now to Damian's shikra[little banded goshawk]1d. "But that's not the real question, is it?"Damian held perfectly still this time. No shifts, no tilts. Not a fuckin' twitch.Jason'd have to point that out someday, soon. To be that perfectly non-reactive was its own kind of tell. Better to feign a little curiosity or boredom. Disdain, even, if that was more your style (no doubt it was, for the runt)."What you really wanna know is whether Bruce ever really trusted me." He skipped the reflexive check for confirmation; he already knew he'd struck gold. Fool's gold, maybe (because hadn't he had this fucking conversation with himself before? Touchy-feely was Dick's job1e), but he'd hit home all the same."You are being presumptuous, Todd. Why would I care about your relationship with Father?"Jason laughed then, done with softening the blow. "Because you're a smart little bastard. Let me see if I can guess the rest of what's in that file. Gloria didn't pick up. Batman and Robin head to her apartment. Robin is the one who finds her. Finds her hanging from her own fucking ceiling, because she finally knew for sure that Batman and Robin still couldn't protect her, after everything, and she realized she'd rather fucking die than let that cocksucking piece of shit put her through hell a third fucking time."And then Robin disappeared. Ergo, he must have gone to pay a visit to Garzonas. Ergo, when Garzonas took a dive and Robin was already there, Robin musta been the reason why. That sound about right, or am I missing something?""That is an…adequate summary of the remainder of the report, yes.""How 'bout the conclusions?" He narrowed his eyes."…The conclusions as well," he acknowledged, quiet."Uh-huh, so now you want to know if it was something I did or if that's just how B is, 'cause if that's just how he is, then that means you're screwed because you're never gonna be good enough no matter what you do. But if it was something you can blame on me, then maybe you have an actual chance of staying on the ins with him—most of the time, because people don't get to be on the ins with him all of the time."Point is, you still wouldn't be ending up like my sorry ass."And Damian continued to hold, but he did it with attention laser-focused enough to burn through Jason's armor.Good ole Nomex was no match for that, unfortunately."Well guess what, kid? You get to be the lucky little duck today because the answer is both. The old man did trust me, back in the day. Just when he wanted to. He trusted me when it was convenient. When he needed to justify letting me face the kind of shit that fucks up the so-called adults, let alone some kid whose voice hasn't even cracked yet. He trusted me when he needed me to have his back out in the field so he wouldn't be running solo. He trusted me when he needed to tell himself that I didn't need all that same comforting and reassurance and attention and patience that other kids in my position woulda needed." Jason sighed, leaned to halfway sit on the nearest aircon unit. "Trust? Bein' read in? It all comes and goes, kid, and it's nothin' personal. Me, Red, 'Wing, Penny One—we've all had our turns. Don't let it get to ya if—scratch that shit, when—it happens to you."Wish I could promise ya something prettier than that, but…this ain't a pretty kind of life. Never has been."Least, not for long." He turned a weary eye to the cityscape, watching the deceptive sparkle as it glimmered under the false beauty, the illusion of cleansing given it by the rain. It was a lot like Robin sometimes. "That's why you've been so pissy with me, huh? Think I fed you all that bullshit about what Robin means when I've been X-ing people out since I still had my baby teeth. So to speak," he added with a slight arch of his brow, turning his gaze back to the Robin who had become an assassin while his baby set of chompers was still kickin'."Look, Garzonas…". Tk, may need to add some additional action after this section"He raped that woman. Violated her. Twice. And because that just wasn't good enough, he went and made sure he got his rocks off again taking whatever shreds of safety she coulda gotten by knowing that at least the bastard would be in a different country from then on."He deserved a hell of a lot worse than tipping over a fucking balcony and finally getting to know what fear—what helplessness—feels like in the last few seconds of his miserable fucking life. What it means to be hopeless. Powerless."And none of that shit means that I killed the bastard.""Doesn't it? Father seemed to think so. His annotations on the case state that, having reviewed the evidence at hand, there was an extremely high likelihood that Garzonas's death was the deliberate outcome of your actions. You took matters into your own hands, just as you do today.""Just as we all do today," Jason rejoined sternly, voice falling into weary annoyance as he added with a grumble, "I just go further than you all."Jason suppressed the urge to scrub both hands over the face of his helmet. Oy vey iz mir, Bruce. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. You're just the gift that keeps giving, aren't you?"Listen, contrary to what the old man believes, I wasn't a complete idiot. Yeah, I wanted to take a more aggressive approach with the guy, but that doesn't mean I thought assassinating the son of a foreign dignitary while in the States was gonna go well. And if I was gonna take that approach, why then? Why not earlier? You think Felipe was the worst scumfuck like that I had the distinct pleasure of running into? Hell, he wasn't even the first. Nowhere near."And for the fucking record, since Bruce wanted to note my objections, allow me to note that I still did what he asked, for a given value of Bruce asking anything at all."And I would love to know at what point, exactly, you think I was expecting Batman to kill him. Fuck's sake kid, give me some credit—I knew that shit wasn't happening."But pieces of shit like Garzonas are why I wanted to be Robin anyways. If I wasn't going to do something about him, what was even the point?""Father said you thought of Robin as a mere game1f.""Kid, life's a death match that everybody fucking loses in the end. Even me, and I came back from death. He's just salty I wasn't trying to go around chronically depressed like him."…Joke's on him, anyways." He said that last part in a whisper, but the helmet amplified it. "Besides"—Jason increased his volume, taking a moment to crack his neck and loosen his posture—"I know Dick Grayson's daddy isn't getting mad at me for having fun with the job. Guess I somehow didn't meet the appropriate thresholds of prior angst, though.""Perhaps that is the problem," Damian countered, grave.Jason tilted his head."I have…heard…that Grayson and father's parting was not under the best of circumstances."A stretching moment and Jason still didn't answer."If he was…displeased with Grayson's conduct for some reason, I imagine he would not be happy at your emulating his behavior."Jason snorted. "Yet every time I did anything, he managed to make a comment about what the Golden Child would have done.""He does not like that name!" Damian snapped, voice hitting Jason quick and sharp like the crack of a whip.Jason knelt down in front of the child. "And I don't like Todd, but last I checked that never stopped you." Damian blinked and Jason leaned a little closer, hovering in his space. "Not with me, not with the Re—fuck, with Tim."The two held each other's gaze a long moment, Damian's mouth set into a grim line."Maybe don't go throwing stones, Akhi Al-Saghir[Smaller/Smallest/Youngest Brother]." Jason eased back and smoothly rose to his feet.Damian turned away, an angry flush to his cheeks. He muttered, "You never said—""Don't even try that shit with me," Jason snapped, his voice stern and sharp but not heated. "You know exactly why you use those names for us. Same reason I call Tim crap I shouldn't." He huffed, folding his arms for a moment before jerking his head in a silent call for Damian to follow.He took off at a lope before picking up speed, leading Damian along a more challenging series of environmental obstacles this time, testing him with differences of height, traction, width, stability.The pair flew across the rooftops, ducking under the complex network of plumbing and ventilation pipes that crisscrossed the city like a maze. The dangerous slants of Gothic rooftops were alternately slalomed down and mountaineered up as they switched from the rusty fire escapes and fragile drainpipes of old apartment buildings to the weathered shingles and peaked roofs of some of Gotham's older architecture. Grapples served to clear some of the larger gaps but Jason kept use to a minimum, more concerned with building the kid's improvisational skills and creativity than his already solid ability to use the more straightforward but also more limited capabilities of the tech.And the results? Pretty damned impressive. Kid needed tighter control of his momentum—something he typically excelled at in the context of actual combat, needing every advantage he could claw his way into with routinely dealing with opponents who outclassed him in weight1g—but he kept up nicely overall.Jason expressed his pleasure by adding sudden attacks into the mix, forcing Damian to unexpectedly go on the defensive…which Damian quickly switched to offensive. Neck-slicingly offensive.Yeah, they would have to work on that."Believe me: I may not have killed Garzonas, but"—Jason deflected a blow with his shin guard before hooking his leg around to trap Damian's arm—"I know a thing or two about lethal instincts."Damian rolled forward from the attack and used the opportunity to get better inside Jason's guard, but underestimated the elder's pivot speed and just barely blocked a follow-up strike with the trailing leg.Common mistake: People didn't expect either that speed or that flexibility coming from a man Jason's size, and kicking attacks were particularly difficult to execute at speed.Honestly, it never got old."But—"Damian tightly adjusted the angle of his sword, moving from slice to stab."—if you go for lethal—"Jason withdrew in a flash, but couldn't fully avoid the blade's path."—when you get panicked—"Damian quickly swept the blade's path from forward to an upward arc, forcing Jason to use his wrist guard this time to protect his throat and face."—things are gonna get messy." Jason lashed out with his free arm and grabbed Damian's sword arm, Jason's guarding hand joining it a moment later. Sword controlled, he rolled forward.Damian effortlessly moved along with the momentum, but the focus on his sword and expectation of a simpler throw left him entirely too wide open.Jason laced his legs around the younger boy's body, encasing him in an iron grip and applying enough pressure that the kid was forced to drop his weapon. Jason grinned at the burn he felt in his thigh from where Damian had just caught him earlier. "Nice shot to the femoral, kid."Also to his credit, Damian attempted to grab one of his many hidden blades to extricate himself.Which Jason immediately halted. "I think we can hang out here for a bit, yeah?"Damian tried to go for one of Jason's hidden weapons then, which was commendable. But not recommendable, as the choice prompted Jason to introduce a threatening amount of pressure in response. "Nope! You're gonna lie here and think about what you did." There was a smirk in his voice as he said it.Jason mightily ignored the inner voice that commented that this was the kind of shit Dickhead prolly woulda done.And Damian just seethed."And you're also gonna stop taking it as a personal attack that someone with more experience managed to spot a better opening than you realized. Easy, kid. Easy."Damian may have been a proud little beggar but he was also a pretty smart one, and it didn't take long for him to relax himself. …Truth be told, he was quiet and still in that particular way that screamed danger, but Jason elected not to worry about that detail.As soon as he could feel the kid's body releasing its tension—and staying that way for more than two seconds—Jason rewarded the observation by giving Damian a quick series of instructions that led to the child's managing to halfway extricate himself from the hold.Jason didn't mention the five other holds he was contemplating at that point and could easily have locked the kid back into.The secret he'd already shared was plenty for the day: that this was one of those traps where the more tension in your frame, the more power and opportunity you gave to your opponent.Without warning, Oracle's voice rang through the comms and Jason fully dropped position, lightly tossing the kid away to avoid any ill-advised revenge stabbings.Damian was visibly disgruntled, but seemed more in the mood to argue than stab.Jason held up a finger as he finished receiving the rapid-fire directions. "We're three minutes out. Acknowledged."
"Make it two."
"You're starting to sound like the old man, O.""Thin ice and glass houses, Hood." Oracle disconnected.Jason snorted.And Damian apparently had been paying more attention than it seemed, because he took off a moment before Jason did.The older boy watched for a lingering moment before taking a moderately dicey shortcut with his grapple to catch up. He kept a little distance this time, wanting to mark Damian's form from a Bird's-eye view rather than leading him on a chase.A high-pitched voice poked at Jason's ear from the comms. "I was almost there. I could've figured it out myself.""And that's exactly what I expect you to do. Next time." Kid had something to prove now and a puzzle to work at. Mission accomplished. Besides, Jason had a feeling that a certain blue-blooded contortionist would be only too willing and helpful as a practice partner.It had taken Jason an annoyingly long time to learn moves like that and get to a point where he spoke the techniques fluidly. Dick? He adapted to them like merely a new word in his first languages.Granted, while Dick had had some psychological advantages, Jason had by contrast had some psychological disadvantages—namely that he had hated grappling early on. Hated it. Disciplines like karate and Muy Thai sang in his blood and greeted him like an old friend, precision being the main thing he needed to learn in order to take the vicious strikes he instinctively leaned on from painful to devastating.Grappling, the work that lay at the core of things like jiu-jitsu and malla-yuddha, made his skin crawl and ears cloud with static. There was nothing about the closeness and vulnerability that made any sense as something he would volunteer for, and the words open guard might as well have been spoken in Albanian.He'd had every reason to learn it yet every reason as well to never do so, and it had been what felt like a painfully slow journey to go from standing on the second point to standing on the first.For all that Damian did struggle with—and his burdens were truly legion—Jason found himself breathlessly, overwhelmingly grateful that this, at least, was not a bond they shared. Hopefully it never would be.By the time they made it to the incident site—a gang dispute that left innocents caught in the crossfire and Jason taking mental inventory of the players so he and his contacts could track them down for follow-up later—the casual ease of earlier had fully vanished for both boys.With adversaries out in force and too many civilians pinned in the crossfire, they fought with tense efficiency and tight brutality, verbal communication kept to a minimum and in barked tones of Arabic and Pārsī when it was used.Civilians were directed, positions were relayed, skulls were cracked. Most of the messiness this time was probably on Jason's end, but no lives were lost.Not even the deserving ones.In the aftermath of the fight, pulse and breathing still a little elevated and battle still carrying a faint thrum through his veins, Jason found himself sitting underneath a billboard, propped against one of the support struts as Damian attended to him with surprising gentleness."As someone who presumes to teach me, you should have bandaged this sooner. Fool," Damian spat harshly, his tone at odds with his careful hands and meticulous precision as he wrapped the wound he had earlier sliced into Jason's leg.Jason huffed. "Didn't exactly get a chance, tiny terror.""Tt.""That was a good strike.""It was shallow.""Yeah, well the point was teaching you not to flay people open, so I consider this a pretty good outcome. By the way, first rule is not to panic in the first place.""Riveting. What would I ever do without you to illuminate such things?""Be perpetually trapped into hugs instead?""Don't be silly, T—Hood."They were in the field, after all.A few minutes were given over to the silence before it was breached again."Hood…""Mm?""…why did you become Robin? You never finished your story."
Apparently the universe agreed with you, kid.
Jason sighed. It only took him a moment to decide—maybe he'd already decided earlier, really. He turned off the comms in his helmet and set the speaker to external. Babs already knew enough of this—hell, she was the smartest person he knew and could infer whole realms beyond what he'd ever said out loud—but that didn't mean he had to give her this just because.Damian seemed to sense Jason's lifted brow and turned off his own comm a moment later, handing it over.Jason would've trusted him by now even without the gesture, but it was nice to have something to fiddle with."Not a long story, kid. Not everyone needs one, really." Well, Jason had a long story, sure, but that wasn't what Damian was really asking here. He took a moment to swallow, turning the small silver device over in his fingers. "It was about fighting back." He drew a careful fingertip along the cool metal. It was easy to imagine the chill, even through his gloves. "I know what it's like to be powerless. And I know what it's like to have a chance to finally be something else other than lunch for the next fucker who comes along and decides you're It because he's higher up on the food chain."Becoming Robin was for me, something I wanted, but it was a hell of a lot more than that, too. I wanted to be out there for the vics, the people who don't call the cops because they know the bastards either won't come, won't come in time, or will make shit worse if they do bother to show up. The ones who have to decide if they're going to sleep at night or eat in the morning. All the kids who learn how to stay under the table and cover their ears and make themselves real small until it's over."Jason was vaguely aware of a rustle of fabric as Damian sat down across from him, pulling out oil and a small cloth and beginning the process of ostensibly cleaning his sword in the decidedly shitty light.Jason didn't call him on it; he was too damned grateful. Again."I got my one-in-a-million chance and got out…but I came back for everyone who didn't. And it's different when folks know hope is coming from someone who's been where they are and not someone who could just as well be from another planet. I watched how it played out in the field sometimes…even after they'd seen and touched him, folks still sorta thought Batman was like a myth."But they knew I was real."He paused to turn his gaze to the waiting nightscape. The streets and rooftops and places in between that he'd traversed for years now. Decades, it sometimes felt like. From under the scattered shelter of their refuge, he could still catch pieces of the smog-filled sky as well and search for the light, the sharp beam of a helicopter or twinkling light of a passenger plane the closest Gotham usually came to seeing anything beyond the vague glow of the moon and soft glimmer of an almost poisonous rain.His scars ached as it began to fall again, crisscrossed paths marking his story into his very flesh. The slash on his bicep from a teacher grown impatient with his brash offensive tactics in sword combat. A starburst scar a bullet had furrowed just below his ribs. Whip marks on his back from more people than he could even name or remember.Not all of them from the League, either.And there was, too, what was missing, healed so graciously by the Pit: cigarette burns from when Willis had decided that using a stationary ashtray was too passé. A scar on his chin from when he'd taken a spill running from some oblivious dude too busy talking on his precious cellphone to notice Jason lifting his precious wallet—up until a nosy passerby had gotten involved.And he thought he would have lost the notch through his left eyebrow, too, gotten during the days of Nightwing and Robin and Red Arrow. Jason doing his best to play it cool hanging out with the big kids. Cliché, maybe, but also true, unfortunately.Naturally, because it was Jason's luck, the mission had gone fuckin' pear-shaped and Jason had managed to piss everyone else off by doing what he always did, what he had done ever since he was old enough, could move fast enough to get in the way and could see the signs of a coming storm, booze and blows in a whirlwind of fists: he'd made himself the most attractive fucking target in the room.And it had worked, too, but of course everyone was too busy being horrified over it, like being a kid just erased the fact that Jason had already had worse 'bout a hundred times over.Nice to know they cared, but really. Dramatic fucking assholes.Hell, Harper still got pissy about that sometimes, years later. Guy didn't hold on to grudges that much—hell, he probably should have way more often—but when he did, well…he could almost give Jason a run for his money.Almost.And it probably didn't help that he could still see the literal scar left behind by what had happened.
They were deep into the forest now.
Way past the city, way past the smaller rural villages that still took shelter in the more remote pockets of sanctuary. Way past any hope of aid beyond what they could give themselves.
And still on their quarry's trail despite it all.
On it, and closing the distance.
Shaky and feverish from the constant downpours and not enough shelter (the joys of sudden storms and capsized boats), Roy still insisted on keeping first watch that night. Jason had finally relented, only to then drag both of the bedrolls over to Roy, sprawling everything—and himself—across the older man as best he could without impeding his movements too much.
Head pillowed against Roy's lap as he dozed. Chilled fingertips ghosted over Jason's face as he drifted, tracing along the bridge of his nose and ridges of his cheekbones. Pausing at the thin notched sliced into Jason's brow and then staying there, the path retraced again and again until Jason finally told him to stop being an angsty fucking sap.
"Didn't realize I took orders from you now," Roy had rasped with a smirk and a quirked brow, gently tilting Jason's head to better look him in the eye.
"I do when you're being an idiot," he shot back without hesitation.
Roy had snorted and Jason had to hold back a wince at how bad his lungs sounded already. "I'm told that's a tragically common occurrence. You'll stay busy."
"I can deal."
Roy had chuckled then but relented, dropping his hand down to rest instead somewhere between the jaggedly stitched y-incision that carved a path over Jason's torso and the twisted curve of the J-shape brand burnt into his skin.
(A clammy palm came to rest right over Jason's heart.…)
The autopsy wound from when other people were seeking the answers to the same questions Jason still asked every day. The brand burnt into his skin in that Ethiopian warehouse like a sick mark of ownership. A claim made over the rest of his life—his second life. There was only one of the three lingering marks he would've wanted to keep—Jason sure as shit wasn't gonna regret saving his real family, plus it was kinda fun to bait the dramatic friggin' assholes—but of course the Pit had kept them all. And there had to be something to it, some kind of message, Jason found himself believing—even in spite of himself.Probably a twisted joke.Talia of course had taken it as a mark of failure. A sign of his inability to let go of his old life even after being granted a new one. (And what would she think of his new scars, then? Of the fact that he was happy to hold on to the scars he'd gotten alongside his team, his family, when it felt like those were all he had left of them now?) "I should have known," she would say when frustrated (or pretending to be, because she lied with the same ease she exhaled. And she knew how to push his buttons very, very well).That he was his own worst enemy. How he would never live up to his potential, being so emotional. That he was weak and sentimental like his fa—mentor was."Then why did you pick me? Why did you make me come back?" he had finally screamed once, fed up with the disappointment and the guilttripping and the weary "patience" that all felt so much like Bruce.It wasn't until then, and after a more literal blow of admonishment, that Jason was finally hit with the revelation from Talia that she had not brought him back at all. His body, at least.The Pit had brought back his mind, pieces of it, but it was something else, some unknown force that had twisted around the laws of the universe and made happen to him what only should have been possible for those not of this world. This earth, at least.And all that, just to end up back here. A filth-swamped city with a miasma so heavy it could've sunk the Titanic.A city where Jason was right at home.He snorted softly to himself, finally taking his helmet off to better look the kid eye to eye. "We tried to hide where I was from, ya know. I had to lose the accent when we went out on patrol."But the people from Crime Alley? Right from the black-and-blue bleeding heart of the city? It's like they knew anyways. Think it was the things I said."Things I didn't say."I tried not to pretend with people, y'know? Folks around here have a pretty finely tuned bullshit meter and we both knew I couldn't rescue them from the fact that Gotham is shit or the fact that people everywhere are shit. Woulda been cruel to say that crap anyways, and I wasn't gonna."But I could still tilt the balance a little and make 'em feel safe. Give 'em a moment where the bad guys didn't win. And they got to live another day and move forward that little bit and maybe last long enough for luck to find 'em."People deserved to have someone in their corner. Someone who had to run from the same monsters they did…knew what that shit felt like. And knew what it felt like to do all that and not have a fucking manor to go back to when the fuckers made bail. That's when they went to jail at all."People like Gloria…like my ma. They deserved a chance to have at least one fuckin' win every once in a while."Life is a game, right? Yeah, like Russian fucking roulette. Guess I became Robin because I wanted to even the odds1h."
Footnotes:
1a.
Damian is here referring to conversations that took place in the main novel of the series.
[ ↑ ]
1b.
[Batman (1940) #424]
[ ↑ ]
1c.
You don't tend to see the second meaning of this word used nearly as much as the first, but sometimes I like to deliberately use either uncommon words or uncommon meanings in order to help keep them and the knowledge of them alive.
[New Oxford Dictionary of American English]
[ ↑ ]
1d.
I'll leave it to my readers to pursue the details, but it was a combo of the relative sizes and the behavioral/hunting habits of these two raptors that led me to choose them to represent Jason and Damian here.
[ ↑ ]
1e.
This is a reference to Jason's debates with himself with regards to getting involved in the more personal side of Damian's life, over in Perfectly Imperfect.
[ ↑ ]
1f.
[Batman (1940) #426]
[ ↑ ]
1g.
I don't know if anyone has any comic panels that they can cite for canon confirmation, but I've seen referenced in at least one of the wikis the idea that Damian has particular skill in using his body weight to his advantage.
It makes a lot of sense that an individual who's been taught to fight since he was a small child would be trained in how to use things like momentum and leverage to maximize his relatively minor body weight, and I'm sure the other Robins also learned those sorts of skills themselves.
[ ↑ ]
1h.
I absolutely love this line (plus the in-game moment where it's used is boss as heck), and it's what inspired the title of the fic, which took a bit of work to tweak to something I could be happy with.
Official Batman: Arkham Knight Gameplay Trailer - "Evening The Odds" | PlayStation
[https://youtu.be/dxa34RatmSc]
The title is also a reference to the expression "odds and ends," with the idea of multiple meanings extract from that. Jason and Damian (and really all the Robins) have been odd ones out in different ways, and you may have heard the term "odd bird," as well. And on a deeper level, it refers to the theme of looking out for the ignored, overlooked, and forgotten—the people who tend to fall through the cracks. So it's this idea of scattered pockets of humanity who might be sort of taken lightly and relegated to being afterthoughts, and might not otherwise have anyone to look after them and their well-being. The Crime Alley area and its denizens have been exactly like that, and they're the exact sort of people Jason is so protective of. And this is a theme reflected as well in the song for the AMV here, which I have been absolutely dying to share. It also ties into the theme of things being "uneven" and how Jason and those like him seek to balance things out for those who normally lack power and a voice and experience such profound disadvantages and injustices.
[ ↑ ]
AJ's Casual Commentary:
The core concept of this book was inspired by the absolutely marvelous work done by Silver__Hawk & maychorian in their respective books I credited at the beginning. In particular, the parts that inspired me are Chapter 5 from Gaining Ground and Chapter 7 of Fallen Angels.
By the way, this is actually why I chose not to formally gift Seeing Red to maychorian or audreycritter, even though they've both been hugely influential and inspirational for myself as an author and in terms of how I write and think of these characters: I had other gifts planned, lol! I had stuff in mind that I felt was more specifically tailored or inspired in certain ways, so sorted things out based on that.
In any case, I feel like Jason actually understands Damian a lot because they both have a background with Talia and the League, plus Damian has that same trait of the prickliness and aggression (including verbal aggression) covering up a lot of insecurity and vulnerability. And while it's more evident with Jason, Damian also genuinely has an empathetic streak as well—which we get to see in his dealings with animal. Jason, perceptive as he is, understands that, as well.
And if you've read the main Tale Spin novel, then you probably remember Jason's determination to make sure that Damian had the training and support needed as Robin, not only in terms of being a vigilante but also in learning to work alongside Bruce and endure his more mercurial behaviors.
And I'm not an action writer, but the vigilante training felt like a natural beginning for Jason and Damian to build a closer relationship from, especially because I feel like his sheer, raw skill as a combatant and vigilante and operative within the League was something that Damian would respect even before he really respected Jason on a more personal basis (and I think the same would go for Cassandra) and I figured a shorter work like this would be something I could manage, even if it would still be quite a challenge on its own.
In any case, giving Jason a chance to use his skills with kids and be a DESPERATELY needed no-nonsense, leave-the-bullschitt-at-the-door presence and influence in Damian's life was one of the concepts I wanted to incorporate and explore in this AU to at least some extent, and it's one of those things that canon could do great things with if they were willing to focus less on forced drama and cheap publicity ploys and more on digging into the depths of these characters and giving them their dues and making the most of the very real and natural challenges and tensions that can occur while having characters truly be family to each other and also have real chances to grow (and not have those two things sabotaged constantly).
=======
It's deliberately left ambiguous in canon for both Bruce and the audience whether Garzonas's death was an accident as Jason indicated or if Jason in fact killed Garzonas and deliberately caused him to go over that balcony and fall to his (extremely deserved) death.
For the purposes of this AU, I'm having Jason confirm outright that he didn't merc Garzonas. And while I'm on it, that's already my default for my AUs unless otherwise indicated. But I also make it clear that Jason's perspective of believing in lethal force and not just as a concept but also as something the Bats should not automatically rule out—all of that, I write as starting well before his death or the influence of the League and the Pit.
In fact, I very specifically object to how the comics and other sources sometimes try to paint things like Jason's belief in lethal force merely stems mental illness and/or the influence of the Pit. I can believe that the exact level of aggression or escalation was influenced by these things at times, but his beliefs as a whole were a deep-seated and thought-out thing, and he has been very strategic and judicious in how he employs lethal force. Like a big deal is made sometimes about the whole duffel bag incident. But that whole scene was masterful and shows his strategic skills and even his sense of restraint, ironically enough. And while it was a very gory tactic, both the killing itself and the way he chose to inform the mob bosses of it were very astute, skillful choices on Jason's part.
Red Hood takes over the crime business | TripleKillionaire
[https://youtu.be/3ZZB8bJN6PM]
An excerpt of a comment I wrote regarding this sort of issue:
A. I feel that the philosophical aspect with Jason gets so ignored and underused, and I'm bloody sick of it all just being dismissed as anger issues or mental instability as though he doesn't have a fvcking point about the continual bloody recidivism of these criminals and the fact that it's not prevented by the usual methods, and also as though he doesn't have a perspective uniquely informed by the life he's lived being in Crime Alley as a child and then homeless on the streets, living in both cases with a level of vulnerability that Bruce did not have growing up even with what happened to Thomas and Martha.
Instead every fvcking thing he says just gets dismissed by canon writers as just blind rage or outright insanity as though the problems he points out are not a very real and tangible and as though his points are simply mental-health symptoms to be treated.
Basically he has to be the bad guy or be someone to get dismissed because he doesn't do things Bruce's way, except when he's being allowed to "see the light" and suddenly go nonlethal like the harsh realities he pointed out never existed.
Links to two different comment threads where I discuss the Lazarus Pit, canonical basis for what you see in fanon, and how we see Jason's philosophical stances unfairly undermined. As a bonus, I also address the claim that Tim did not have abusive parents in canon and that this is merely fanon. Neglect may be more passive than some other varieties, but it IS a form of abuse, and he was indeed neglected.
Thread under Cuckoo Birds in Broken Clocks
Thread under Some Who Wander
(Highly recommend both books, by the way! And as of now I still haven't written new material for Cuckoo Birds, so all material you see there is still courtesy of the original author, who graciously permitted me to adopt the fic so that it wouldn't have to be cancelled outright after OP needed to step back.)
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The whole name thing with Damian is something we get to see addressed by Cassandra in early chapters of Season of Darkness, Season of Light, by BirdChild.
The way Damian uses his siblings' alternate surnames, unhyphenated (as Todd-Wayne, Drake-Wayne, et cetera would be very different)—it's not actually a matter of formality or respect as it ought to be. Not with the characterization I'm using here, in any case (and I believe at least some in canon, as well). Instead it's meant as a constant dig and attempt to invalidate them as truly being Waynes, as though using the surnames of their biological fathers invalidates the fact that they ARE still Bruce's kids. And unfortunately 3 of Bruce's 5 children had horrendous bio fathers, which gives extra reason the kids may in some cases find it distasteful to be referred to solely by that name, if they use it at all.
Of course, in this AU Bruce ain't a great father to be reminded of either, ironically enough!
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The scar through Jason's eyebrow is something I've seen come up in various pieces of artwork, and I think it's a really neat touch, so it's something I've incorporated and come up with some minor backstory material for. Fun fact: The also-awesome Keanu Reeves has a scar just like that—a notch through his left eyebrow—in real life.
=======
The J-brand is something I've taken here from the Arkham continuity. I really love the angst potential that injury has—and here I'm also tapping into theories Sapphire had for why the Lazarus has left some of Jason's scars and injuries behind rather than healing them all—but I was held back by the fact that I didn't want to force Jason to deal with either the identification/secrecy hassles or, worse, the constant stress and humiliation and self-consciousness and invasion of privacy caused by having the brand right on his face like it is in canon (though it was very moving—and heartbreaking—watching Jason grapple with that in LananiA30's utterly magnificent—if extremely fvcking angsty—Arkham Compendium series).
Of course Sapphire—best friend of a decade and counting this year, and queen of solving my sticky dilemmas in life in like two seconds flat—promptly suggested I just move the brand's location down to Jason's torso instead. Problem fvcking solved. She's just like that, y'all.
And I keep being blessed to end up with casually brilliant and amazing people as my friends. Definitely one of the more pleasant (and desperately needed) ways my life has imitated art.
=======
And here it is!! I absolutely love both the Arkham Knight design itself and the game's take on the Red Hood uniform, plus the great voice work and dialogue and concepts like how Jason made it a point to reach out to people like military veterans who had basically been neglected and used and discarded by the powers that be. This is another thing I've been working to find ways to incorporate into the mainstream continuity, as well. I actually finally figured out a way to do so some and you'll get to see that in one of the shorts I have planned for my upcoming series Tapestries of You and Me.
And all these years later, even the combat in the game is so much better and has the style and skill and complexity befitting the character far more than what we got stuck with in Gotham Knights.
So yeah, I already adore a lot of the different design and gameplay elements we get with the Arkham version of Jason, and then I find this incredibly well done AMV using a song I had never heard before but felt like it just suited him so perfectly. I was absolutely just hooked and watching it on repeated.
And I have wanted for the longest time to be able to share the video, and this particular story just felt like the perfect place for it to go. I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I have.
[GMV] Jason Todd - Crossfire | DIVAD (Killerko)
[https://youtu.be/CXyKMNr9-UU]
As a bonus, some other great gameplay clips and AMVs with Jason:
Red Hood Jason Todd Is Smooth - Batman: Arkham Knight #shorts | Anthony Allen
[https://youtu.be/BqrBWSNPe24Ec3F6]
Red Hood jump scares poor thug... Batman Arkham Knight Red Hood Stealth | Knerd
[https://youtu.be/JRcTLuQ7nBg]
Batman: Arkham Knight- Red Hood Predator Performance On "Endless Knight" Map | Jacks Clip Archives
[https://youtu.be/ukNcNIH8j94]
Red Hood (Jason Todd) tribute | Shnak007
[https://youtu.be/NaJtjHkbu90]
Trigger/Content Warnings:
—References to domestic violence, child abuse
—References to CSA
—References to emotional abuse/manipulation
—Mentions of injury
—Profanity
—Discussions throughout of sexual assault