Chapter Text
He thought coming back from the dead would have been a lot harder than it was. Instead, four years of training with the League of Assassins and a few months in Gotham had simply proved the opposite. There was no struggle with stepping back into his body, the only thing that had been difficult was remembering how to breathe as he coughed water out of his lungs. Lungs that should not be working, with a heart and a pulse that were supposed to have ceased.
With Artemis, Bizarro, Roy, and Kori all going their own ways, Jason found himself pulled back to Gotham. A cesspool of a city, probably cursed—nobody wanted to live there, but nobody ever tried to leave, either. Two weeks ago he'd climbed into his new bed. Two weeks ago he'd sent a message to the remaining members of his gang, two weeks ago he'd asked Bruce to give him a bit of slack so that they could fight crime the way they each wanted. Besides, it wasn't like Jason was sporting a bat when he shot people who dealt to kids, or the men who thought that just because they saw a working girl that meant that they could get off without paying. They weren't even always under Jason's protection, but he'd had a mother who worked her hardest to love him, and he knew those women were the same, they had their own kids at home.
Tonight, the Penguin's men were stationed outside a cargo ship like warriors lining up with their shields and spears, except this century, they used machine guns and bulletproof vests. Jason didn't want to get involved, especially not with Penguin—he had his own shit with Black Mask to deal with, but Penguin had a big stash of guns, the kind that would be good to have in bad situations. Batman was darting in and out of the shadows, in front of the barrels of the guns one second and then behind the line of fire in the time between flashes of the explosions from the guns. But the bat was never alone. The people of Gotham knew that. Batman had the shooters' attention, leaving an opening for—
One man fired an arc of lead into the air as his knee was knocked out from under him. Robin spun around and knocked his Bo staff into the head of the guy to his left—Jason winced at the obviously broken nose, but stuck to the shadows. He knew how the Penguin worked. He was likely down in the cargo hold, doing a last minute count before unloading everything, and in about thirty more seconds, the rest of his bodyguards would come running out, and that was Jason's chance to move.
Jason stood and shot his grapple into the wall near the ship's cabin. He wasn't like the other crime bosses in town, hiding away in some skyscraper paid for with dirty money, he led his men into battle, made sure they followed the plan, and his presence kept them from thinking about double crossing him. He stepped off the roof and pulled the grapple tight, hurtling through the air and the glass window of the ship's cabin, slamming into the captain. Jason brushed the glass from his jacket and pulled his gun from the holster.
"So, you're with Penguin?"
"You with the bat?"
Jason pressed the barrel of the gun to the man's forehead. "Do I look like I'm with Batman?"
Leaving him alive wasn't going to exactly cause problems, but Penguin would have to replace him, and it'd keep him out of the streets for a while. One less problem for Jason, one more block of the city he could sink his grip into. Luckily the gunfire outside covered Jason's, but he still had to move fast. Batman probably already knew Jason was here, and he probably wouldn't let him get away this time. All the more reason to jump down the three flights of stairs, clinging to the hand rails, and land in the cargo hold.
Penguin stood with his umbrella ready and open in front of him, and a thin dagger in the other hand. He'd been careful to keep this operation quiet, but in the Gotham crime world, word spread like the bubonic plague. It's why the Red Hood was here, probably why Batman was as well. Jason sighed and reviewed the plan in his head one more time. Deal with Penguin, get his men on board, move the boxes, and find out what to do about Batman.
"A knife, really?" Jason gestured at the air, where guns were still firing outside. "This is clearly a gunfight."
"Hmph, and you are?"
"Come on, don't tell me you haven't heard of the Red Hood."
Penguin looked him up and down with a scowl that turned into a sneer. He stood a bit straighter and shoved the dagger into the handle of his umbrella. "Why don't you and I make a deal? I give you as much firepower you desire, and you go out there and shoot the Bat in the face. Then, we talk this out."
"Not interested."
Penguin ducked behind his umbrella as Jason fired, then dashed forward and slammed his shoulder into the center of the umbrella. Penguin crashed into the boxes and Jason wrenched the umbrella from his grip. Killing the Penguin himself would make things just a bit easier for Jason, but the power vacuum would cause a lot more problems. Jason didn't have the manpower to replace him yet, and he couldn't let Black Mask get a chance to take half of the Downtown area. So it seemed that Penguin would have to stay alive for now.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Jason turned with arms crossed. He knew it couldn't be Batman or Robin, they were always quiet, and if it was Penguin's men, they'd be a lot more careful.
"Boss!"
Having his own lieutenants was something Jason was still getting used to. Most of them had taken some time to warm up to Jason, but Owen had offered to help Jason on his early jobs, and he'd even helped when Jason was kidnapping Black Mask and his top employees. A bit eager, a bit strange, but loyal.
"There you are," Jason smiled under the helmet. "Keep an eye on Cobblepot while I go help the rest get on board."
"About that," Owen rubbed the back of his neck. He was about 5'6", with black curls he could never keep out of his face, and any time Jason saw him, he was wearing a bright red jacket—sometimes a zip-up hoodie, sometimes a thin red flannel pattern, and occasionally a puffer vest. Always red, like he was trying to show support for his new boss. A bit much, but Jason could appreciate it. Tonight it was a thick wool trench coat. "Batman caught them sneaking up the ladder and has already rounded them up with Penguin's guys. The cops won't be far behind."
That was fine. Unexpected, but fine. Jason could get them back later, and scold them for recklessness. Maybe while he was at it, he'd break into one of Batman's safe-houses and steal a few toys to use in the future. He always tended to leave stuff behind, and he hadn't noticed Jason's habit yet, so it wouldn't hurt to keep it up a bit longer.
"Right. Awesome. Take what you can carry, get it to the lifeboats and then get to the Alley warehouse. Got it?"
"Gotcha. Should I expect you?"
"Yep. I'll take care of Batman."
Jason dashed up the stairs and jumped out onto the deck of the ship. Batman was taking down the last few men—they'd ditched their machine guns in favor of bladed brass knuckles and small knives. Idiots thought they figured out Batman's greatest weakness, but Jason knew better. The man didn't have any weaknesses. He'd thought he had, years ago.
A few of Jason's men were already trying to break out of the ties Batman had left them in, and the backup would be appreciated. Jason ran forward and swapped his guns for the batarangs he'd salvaged during the first few weeks he'd been in Gotham. One arced towards Batman, getting lodged in the shoulder of his armor—asshole didn't even feel it. Jason could tell.
The other grazed Robin's exposed arm, startling him enough to lose grip on his staff and send it clattering to the ground. He was quick to recover, rolling to pick up the staff and assume a defensive position, glaring when his gaze landed on Jason.
Tim Drake. That was the name Jason had been told. His parents were Bruce's neighbors, and he'd been Robin practically since the moment Jason had took his second first breath. Three and a half years. Longer than Jason had ever had the job, but when he saw this kid working with Batman—with Bruce—his throat got tight and things turned green. Years ago, Jason hadn't really understood why Dick and Bruce sent him out of the room to yell at each other. Now, he wanted to get Tim out of sight so he could say a lot of things to their shared mentor.
Robin charged forward, swinging the staff in a wide arc. He was going for the back of Jason's legs to knock him off-balance. Smart. Too bad for him, Jason was trained to avoid that one before he'd even met Batman. He flipped backwards and grabbed the end of the staff midair. Either the kid would let go, or he'd go flying when Jason landed. He heard the kid hit the ground with a groan and spun the staff in his hands. It wasn't really his weapon of choice, but if the kid didn't back down, Jason would use it to keep some distance between the two of them.
One of the Penguin's goons screamed, and Jason turned to see what Batman had done to startle him so much. Probably broken a bone or something—
But no. Batman was on the ground, the man standing over him with a rusted lead pipe hanging limp in his hands. One of the very, very, very rare moments when Batman left himself open, and now he was down.
"Get his mask!" one of the restrained goons shouted. "Then bash his head in!"
Jason's gun was in his hand quick, the man crumpled with an extra hole in his head. Robin was at Batman's side, lifting him over his shoulder and stumbling towards the shadows. None of the other goons had managed to get free yet—at least not Penguin's.
Gunfire popped and Robin hit the ground, rolling behind Batman and throwing the cape around them both. Jason spun around, ready to shoot down whichever idiot had fired on a child. Gene—he was one of Jason's, new—had gotten free and scooped up one of the fallen machine guns. He was laughing and moving closer to Batman and Robin, right past Jason.
He grabbed Gene's shoulder and he smiled at Jason. "Boss, I can get the Bat here and now! Him and his pesky little bird!"
Jason leveled his gun right between Gene's eyes and didn't hesitate to drop him. The restrained grunts watching screamed or whispered or cried in outrage. Some Jason's own, some Penguin's.
"Listen to me," Jason shouted. "Especially my men! A single one of you tries to kill that kid, you answer to me. I think it's clear how I'll respond to that behavior."
He didn't want any response from them, he just ran over to where Batman's cape was still sprawled over him and Robin. He lifted the cape and caught the punch thrown by the kid. He wasn't shaking, wasn't even scared.
"Get to the Batmobile," Jason dropped his hand and backed away.
"No way!" Robin pushed himself up, wobbling and landing on one knee. "I won't let someone like you push me around and tell me what to do!"
"Then by all means, continue what you were doing—running into the shadows with Batman over your shoulder."
Jason held the staff out. Robin glared but took it, leaning on it while he stood on his other leg. It had three bleeding holes that would need medical attention soon, but the shipyard wasn't the place. Jason pressed the button on Batman's belt and hoisted him over his shoulder. This was going to do wonders for his reputation, but without Batman, he knew that Gotham would go to shit.
The car halted in a nearby alleyway, and Jason loaded Batman into the back seat while Robin limped along behind. He climbed in beside Batman and started rooting through his belt while Jason took the drivers seat. He'd never gotten a lot of chances to be here, to have his hands on the wheel. He exhaled and traced the light bumps on the leather stitching before easing out of the alley and onto the street.
"Where are you taking us?" Robin asked from the back seat, where he was tying a tourniquet around his leg.
"You seriously just got in the car with a complete stranger who shot people in front of you? How are you so dumb?"
"You were helping Batman, I figured you didn't want him dead. I just don't know where you're going to park this thing."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Where do you think?"
Robin went quiet, and Jason pressed the accelerator down as he cut through the streets at deadly speeds. Robin was clutching onto the back of the passenger's seat, and when they took a particularly sharp turn, he'd slam into the back door. Jason guessed there would be too many new bruises to count by the time they reached the cave.
The buttons on the dashboard of the car were numerous and unlabeled, but surely one of them opened the Batcave doors. He started pressing buttons, while not smart with how many gadgets the car had, one of them had to open the doors. The doors locked, then unlocked. The overhead light flicked on to illuminate the dark tunnel they now sat in, and finally, one caused "Bicycle Race" to start playing.
"Oh, uh," Robin leaned into the front seat. "Shit. Ignore this."
"Since when are there CD players in the Batmobile?" Jason asked.
"There's not. Batman doesn't know. I put this in for a joyride with Superboy—uh. What do you need?"
"How do I open the Batcave doors?"
Robin frowned at him and shut off the music. "Just use the garage door opener."
He pointed at a small device attached to the rear view mirror. Jason pressed one of the buttons and the door slid down into the ground.
"That's new, too," Jason grumbled.
Jason pulled into the cave and climbed out of the car. There wasn't time to dive into the nostalgic air that hung around his shoulders. Bruce might be seriously hurt, and Tim's leg needed attention twenty minutes ago.
The kid managed to hobble to the med-bay on his own, at least, while Jason lugged Bruce over to a cot. A small wooden handle protruded from his gut, wedged between two plates of armor. Seemed like one of the goons had managed to get a lucky strike, and with the inevitable concussion, this would be a bad day for Batman. Not his worst, though. A concussion and a stab wound were nothing to worry about.
Counters had been built into the side of the med-bay's stone wall, with drawers in each of them and a locked glass cabinet with the antidotes to various poisons and two cots shoved on either side of the cabinet. Hopefully everything was still where he remembered.
He was quick with Batman's armor and cowl, and luckily the blade wasn't too big. The stab was honestly pretty shallow. He tossed the knife onto a nearby table and carefully stitched up the wound. Bruce stirred but didn't wake. At least he was alive. It would give Jason a chance to yell at him later for forcing him to come back to the cave.
He glanced up at Robin. How crazy was it that everyone in this room saw cold, wet, shadows as something safe and comfortable?
The bandages were in a cabinet attached to the wall, and most had been dragged away by Tim, who was in the middle of fixing up his leg. There'd be no patrol for a while like that, maybe not even any school. He secured the bandages over Bruce's gut and stared at him for a few moments. If he woke up now, he would just yell at him for coming back here. Jason wasn't his son, not anymore. He was just another murderer that Bruce had to lock away.
"How did you know this was here?" Tim asked. "Batman says you know his identity, but he won't talk about you more. How do you know him?"
"I know a lot of things, kid. Maybe you should grill Bruce into actually talking for once."
Jason took a breath and stormed out of the med-bay. He'd need to find a way back to his place—can't take the Batmobile, can't take any motorcycles. Those all had trackers in them. Maybe he could go out through one of the tunnels into the middle of the city and have Owen pick him up. He'd just have him drop him off at the warehouse. He was one of Jason's best men, but he still wouldn't let him know where his apartment was. Old habits, and all that.
"Master Bruce, I lost contact in the middle of combat—" A clear, British voice called through the cave. Jason stopped in his tracks, chest tight. "Have you returned? Master Bruce—oh. Oh my."
"Alfred," Jason gave a small nod. "Batman and Robin are in the med-bay. Batman will be fine, probably. Robin's leg got shot up, though."
Alfred hurried over to the med-bay door, but paused a few feet away from Jason. He tried to hide it, but Jason saw his hands shaking. Alfred was afraid of him.
"Don't bring any of this up to Bruce," Jason said, then started for the tunnel.
He should have expected this. He was a murderer, and now Alfred actually worried he was going to hurt Bruce or Tim. The man who had celebrated his birthday with him, who stayed up with him while they baked each other's cakes, throwing puffs of flour at each other from across the kitchen counter.
Whatever. He should've expected it. He deserved it anyway, with how many people he had killed. He stormed out of the cave without looking back. Whatever face Alfred had on would just drive a knife deeper into Jason's chest.
He just walked until he got out of the tunnels, then fished his phone out of his pocket.
"Hey, Boss! You on the way?"
"I won't be coming to the warehouse, Owen. It's been a rough night."
"You can say that again. Can't believe the operation got busted by Batman so fast."
"Head on home, I'll need you on top of your game for my next move."