#Not counting Red Hood Jason for the most part. I have serious doubts there

[violent138]

Bruce definitely trained all the Robins to abandon him if things got bad. He'd give them scenarios like him trapped under something in a fire, hypothermic conditions, he's too injured, and they need to get information to Lucius, and the list goes on. And to date, the only bit of training his kids have continually failed, whether in simulation or practice, is failing to leave him behind.

[iwishiwasbatman]

Masked Love (Part 10)

Pairings- Jason Todd x OC; Dick Grayson x Platonic!OC

Warnings- Violence, guns, cursing

Summary- When the city goes to hell, Elana steps in to try and regain some control. An old foe create chaos as Elana tries to take matters into her own hands while saving the ones she loves.

Word Count- 5141

“You have got to be kidding me,” I groaned as a broadcast came onto the small video monitor in the abandoned building me, Dick, and Conner were holed up in.

“Hello, Gotham. This is Red Hood, coming to you live from the most exclusive spot in town,” Jason said in the video. He panned the camera around, showing the Batcave. “For too long, this city has been at the mercy of criminals. And I’m not talking about the Penguin, and the Riddler, and the Joker. I’m talking about the ones who pretend to help, but only make things worse.” I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. He was going to get it.

“No way,” Conner said.

“First it was Batman, now it’s the Titans,” Jason continued. “Hypocrites who feed off your terror in pursuit of glory and they turn Gotham into a city of carnage. There’s a new savior in town. First thing I’m going to do is burn the trash. You hear me Nightwing?” Conner and I turned to Dick. “You’re public enemy numero uno… But not for long. Meet me at midnight. You know the place. It’s time for us to finish this.” With that, the transmission cut. Dick turned and made a beeline for the exit. Conner and I followed.

“He’s right. Time to finish this,” Dick said.

“I’m sorry, you can’t be serious,” I scoffed.

“I am. This needs to stop,” Dick replied.

“We’ve got to get back to Wayne Manor,” Conner said.

“We can’t just burst in there. That’s what he wants,” I pointed out.

“That’s what he expects,” Dick added. “We need to break through the security system remotely and I can do that at Wayne Enterprises.” He turned to me. “Elana, get out there and be my eyes and ears.” He turned to Conner. “Stay here.”

“Are you talking to me or Krypto?” Conner asked with an edge in his voice.

“Both.” I stood there awkwardly.

“So, I’m good enough for getting groceries, but not this?” Conner exclaimed.

“I need you to stay here. I’ll see you when I get back,” Dick brushed him off.

“Hey!” Conner gabbed Dick’s arm, spinning him around. I stood back, ready to jump in. “Blackfire was shot! I’m not gonna stay here and do nothing.”

“Look, our best chance of connecting with Blackfire is through that radio. I need you to be here if they call,” Dick said. Conner didn’t reply, but he didn’t remove his hand. “Conner, I need you to let go of my arm.” After a second, he did. “Be here when I get back.” I gave Conner a reassuring look before hurrying after Dick.

“Why can’t we come with?” I asked.

“I need Conner manning the radios and I need you to see what’s going on in the streets. Besides, I can handle getting into Wayne.”

“What if I go to the Manor? I could get in and Jason wouldn’t touch me,” I said.

“Crane’s probably there. I doubt he’d let you off easy. And like I said, I need you in the streets.”

“I think Conner thinks you don’t trust him,” I said, switching the subject.

“I do,” Dick said.

“Don’t tell me, tell him.”

“Elana, we don’t have time.” He brushed past me, making me huff in annoyance.

“You know, this is exactly what Bruce used to do that made you mad. You’re being a hypocrite,” I said.

“Hey, I’m-“

“I get it, really. This is a terrible time with Crane and Jason and the drugs, but you’re the leader of this team. Step up and act like it,” I finished, walking away. Dick didn’t try to stop me. “I’m sorry about him,” I said to Conner once I got back.

“Why are you apologizing? You’re not the one being a jerk,” Conner sighed.

“I’ve been cleaning up after him for years, I do this a lot.” I shrugged. I went and grabbed my duffle bag. “I’m supposed to go patrol the streets. I’ll see you later, but if you need anything, call me.” Conner nodded, turning back to the radio. I sighed and turned to the exit.

—————————

I crouched down on top of the rooftop of Crime Alley, stalking a drug dealer as he approached a couple of kids. His jacket was bulging, meaning he was about to give these high schoolers more drugs than could fit in the backpacks they were carrying. That was a lot. As he stood in front of the kids, one of them began to pull out a wad of cash. I jumped down and landed behind the dealer.

“Selling to kids?” I said. “I’m disappointed.” The dealer whipped around and the second he did, I punched him in the face. He went down, bags of who-knows-what falling out of his jacket.

“You b-“

“Ah, ah. There are kids around. No profanity,” I tutted, cutting him off. I kicked his head down into the ground and he was out cold. “Now,” I turned to the boys, “care to explain why a couple teenagers are buying a crap-ton of drugs?” The stood there, speechless. “Hello? I’m talking to you two.”

“Uh… we-we…” one started, gulping.

“Do you see the city? Everyone is taking drugs. We thought we’d get ahead of the curve,” the other shot at me, crossing his arms.

“And that’s why the city is dying. You think adding more addicts to the mix will make it any better?” I asked. He didn’t respond. “That’s what I thought. Now leave and don’t let me catch you buying again.” With that, they scurried off. I huffed, rolling my eyes.

“You’re no Titan, but you certainly are one of those masked freaks,” a voice said from behind me.

“And you must be a very brave soul to approach a “masked freak”,” I sighed, turning around. He was a tall man with dark eyes and a gun in his hand. He was at the entrance of the alley. “How much water have you had today?”

“Eight cups a day, just like my doctor recommended.” He grinned.

“Delightful,” I muttered. “How ‘bout you put that gun down and we talk this out?”

“Sorry, I gotta protect my city,” he said, clicking the safety off. In the blink of an eye, I threw one of my daggers at the gun, knocking it out of his hand. He let out a pained scream and clutched his hand.

“You should leave. You seem like you need some sleep,” I said. He went for the gun on the ground, but I quickly shot an arrow through his hand. He cried out again. “Come on, man,” I groaned. “I’m giving you an out. Now run along before the next one goes through your eye.” Finally listening, he ran.

A buzzing from my gauntlet caught my attention, and I opened it. The police scanner had a call coming in about a break in at the local pharmacy. Sighing, I adjusted my quiver strap before heading to the location.

About halfway there, I got another alert, this time from my personal security system. Someone was in my apartment, but I couldn’t tell who. They were just a dark shadow. I muttered a curse under my breath. I could go stop a potential threat to the city, or a potential problem for me. I took another look at my camera to see the figure was now sitting in my island chair. Though I couldn’t see who it was, they had the build of a woman and was holding something I recognized to be a knife. In an almost malicious way, the figure waved. Whoever this was clearly was waiting for me. That made my decision.

I continued on my way to the pharmacy, the dark figure in my living room in the back of my mind. I shook my head to clear it as I got to the rooftop across from the pharmacy. There were three cars sitting just outside and another five in the parking lot across the street. I wasn’t sure if all of those cars were part of this, but I couldn’t rule it out.

I dropped down onto ground level and crept toward the back entrance. I strung my bow and kicked open the door, ready to release the arrow at the first sign of movement. The room was clear, but it was just a storage room. What worried me was that, though the room was full of prescriptions and medications, it seemed to be untouched. Why break into a pharmacy and not steal drugs?

Noises came from outside the door. Harsh voices and bangs that clearly weren’t good noises. I peeked through the crack between the door and the wall. From what I could see, which was very little, was a lot of bodies and guns in their hands. I couldn’t tell how many were there because of my limited view and lack of light. What alarmed me the most was the two figures crouched behind the counter. Hostages. This whole thing just got even more complicated.

“Are we in over our heads? What if we all get arrested?” I heard one male voice ask.

“Red Hood wouldn’t let that happen. We’re just helping,” another answered.

“He said the Titans are the problem. If this works, we could eliminate one of them and be in Red Hood’s favor,” a woman added. They were doing this to attract a Titan’s attention? They’d be disappointed when they see it’s me. I whistled softly, positioning myself on the side of the door.

“Did you hear that?”

“Dude, you’re being paranoid.”

“No I swear to god, I heard something.”

“If you’re so sure, go figure it out.” I heard footsteps coming my way and curled my hands into fists, ready to strike. He opened the door and I grabbed him, landed a perfect punch to his jaw, and shut the door with my foot. While he was off balance, I smashed his head into the wall twice, effectively knocking him out.

“Tom?” his friend asked from outside the door. “Whoever you are, come out and we won’t hurt anyone.”

“Do you promise?” I asked in a mocking tone. The footsteps grew louder and greater in number.

“Who are you?” another demanded.

“Batman,” I snickered. I rolled a smoke pellet through the door crack and it burst, covering the room in smoke. I jumped out of my hiding spot and rammed into the first guy, knocking him into another. I sent a flying kick at the guy next to him and swept another’s legs. Gunshots rang out around me, and I did my best to dodge stray bullets, though I could only really pray for a miracle in this situation. I first came out of the smoke, directed at my face. I ducked under it and caught it before jerking it to the side with a snap. I threw the victim into another, causing bothering to hit the floor.

From there, it was a mess of fists and bullets. I proceeded to kick the perps into each other and into walls. I had most of them down when something clicked behind me.

“Don’t move,” a shaky voice threatened.

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me?” I laughed. I threw my elbow back into the gun as it went off and punched the guy in the face. He went down hard. I kicked the last couple guys in the faces and headed to check in on the hostages. “Are you guys okay?” I asked, offering my hand. The woman took it and nodded. The man was more hesitant to trust me, but ended up taking my hand anyway. “Call the police,” I instructed.

As they did that, I walked over to one of the men on the ground who was still conscious. I pulled him up by the collar and slammed him into the wall.

“You did all this to get my attention?” I asked.

“We wanted a Titans,” he stammered.

“Who said you didn’t get one?” I replied. “Red Hood isn’t someone to idolize. Tell your friends that if I see even one of you pulling anything like this again, I’ll come for all of you.” I slammed him into the wall one time before letting him drop to the ground. I turned back to the workers. “I have somewhere else to be, but the police should be here soon. If any of them try anything, just punch them.” Leaving it at that, I headed out the back door. As I began heading toward my apartment, I patched into mine and Jason’s private comm channel. “Hood?”

“Look, if you’re checking in to yell at me, I’m really not in the mood,” he responded.

“Like you would listen to me,” I scoffed. “I just ran into some of your fanatics. They took a pharmacy hostage to get a Titan’s attention. You’ve caused quite the commotion.”

“You say it like I did it on purpose,” he huffed.

“You sound tired.”

“I am.”

“That leads me to assume you’re not the one sitting in our apartment,” I said.

“There’s someone in our apartment?” He sounded more alert.

“I think they’re there for me. I’ll deal with it.”

“I’m on my way,” he said.

“No, it’s fine. I got it,” I assured him.

“Lanes, there’s only one kind of person that can get past our security,” Jason warned.

“Code names, idiot. I’m in the field,” I hissed.

“My bad, Huntress,” he said sarcastically. “I think I need to come back you up.”

“I need to do this alone,” I said. I was at the fire escape that led to my room.

“Fine, just keep your comm line open. If anything happens, at all, I’m coming to get you,” Jason sighed.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m going in.”

“Please be careful,” was the last thing he said. I put in my passcode to the window lock and it popped open, letting me slip inside. My feet hit the carpeted floor without a sound and I crept toward my living room, holding a dagger.

“You don’t have to lurk, my love. This is your own home.” I huffed in annoyance and relaxed slightly.

“Don’t call me that,” I said, walking into the living room area. Talia al Ghul sat on a bar stool in the kitchen, flipping a dagger in her hand.

“Why? Does it bring up past memories?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you call B that.” I pulled down my hood and took off my mask.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever called love. You liked it when you were younger.”

“That’s because you were the adult figure in my life at that point that didn’t beat me with a stick every time you saw me. Don’t get me wrong, you did it a lot, just not every time.”

“It made you better,” Talia said simply.

“Okay, enough of that. Why are you bothering me?” I asked.

“I didn’t mean any unpleasantness,” she said.

“Uh huh,” I said sarcastically, crossing my arms.

“I’m here on behalf of my father and the rest of the League,” she said.

“Then you should just leave now.”

“We have an offer to make you.” She set down a file on the table and I knew what was coming. “Take out the target and we’ll leave you and everyone you care about alone.” I lifted my eyebrow before hesitantly reaching for the Manila folder. “I’m sure you’ve already thought about taking this one out.” The cold eyes of Jonathan Crane greeted me as I opened the file. Even on paper, he looked like a stoner.

“Why do you want me to kill Crane?” I shut the folder.

“He’s become a potential problem,” she answered.

“Is that a fancy way of saying you needed someone I wouldn’t mind killing to try to tempt me back into the League? I know your game. No thanks. You can leave now.”

“We’re not trying to do anything. We simply want Crane taken care of,” Talia tried to argue.

“Talia, I’m not gonna ask you again. Get out. Now,” I demanded.

“I’m coming to you,” Jason’s voice chimed in from my comms. I wanted to respond to tell him no, but I didn’t want Talia to know I was on comms with him. Instead, I turned my comms off.

“You realize this is your chance to protect the people you love. Probably the last chance you’ll be offered. It’s selfish to decline,” she said.

“Then I guess I’m selfish. But let’s be honest, the League doesn’t make assassins like it used to, so there isn’t much to worry about.”

“You sound awfully sure of that for someone who hasn’t part of the League for seven years.”

“Fine. Tell me if I’m wrong. Your father won’t lift a finger unless it’s his life or death, you aren’t really much of a threat, your sister isn’t around, Deathstroke is too dead to work for you, Rictus sucks, and Lady Shiva is someone I’ve beat multiple times.”

“You’re arrogant.”

“No, I’m honest. Nothing you threaten to do scares me nor worries me.” There was a pause.

“Very well,” she sighed, straightening her stance. “I truly hope we don’t meet again, for your sake.”

“Me too.” I locked my eyes onto hers with a harsh, cold look in them. She didn’t try to say anything else, just simply turned and walked out the door. “Asshole,” I muttered once she was gone.

“Jay?” I asked into my comms after turning them back on.

“Are you okay? Your comms went out,” he sounded scared.

“I turned them off. I was in control of the situation. Talia’s gone,” I sighed.

“Did she hurt you?”

“No, Jay. I swear I’m fine.”

“I’m just checking. I don’t trust Talia as far as I can throw her,” he sighed.

“Hey, Jay?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can we meet? My room at the Manor?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Crane’s here and he’s not exactly your biggest fan,” Jason said.

“Please, Jay. I have to grab something,” I pleaded.

He hesitated, but eventually sighed. “Fine, but we stay in your room.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

A few minutes later, I arrived at the Manor and climbed in through the window. Jason was sitting on my bed.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing up. I echoed him as I took off my hood and mask and unzipped my jacket, throwing it onto the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” I muttered, collapsing into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me in response and kissed the top of my head. “So much is going wrong and I keep trying to fix it, but I just can’t. I’m pretty sure I’m just making it worse.”

“You’re not making things worse. None of this is your fault,” Jason reassured me.

“Jay, please, call this off. This stupid thing with Dick. It’s just going to irritate everyone. Nothing’s gonna happen,” I pleaded, pulling back enough to look him in the eye.

“I can’t do that, Lanes, you know I can’t,” he sighed.

“Why not?”

“I can’t back out. All of Gotham saw the announcement and Crane would lose what’s left of his mind if I just dropped it.”

“Screw Jonathan Crane. Let’s just disappear. Tonight, we can do it. The Bahamas,” I begged.

“I told you I can’t.”

“What the hell do you have to prove?!” I raised my voice.

“Keep your voice down!” Jason hissed.

“Why should I?! Crane’s in the Cave that you showed him!” I poked his chest. “He can’t hear me!”

“So, this is all my fault?!”

“Yes, it is!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Elana!”

“That you’ll stop this!” Then, I lowered my voice. “You and I, Jay. We take Crane out right now and then this can all be over.”

“The Titans will never let me back in, not after this whole thing,” he sighed.

“Then screw the Titans. Jason, let’s just leave. We have the world, and, yes, I love Gotham, it’s my home, but maybe it’s time to move on.”

“Elana-“ A knock at the door cut Jason off.

“Hey, Jason, who you taking to?” Crane asked from the other side of the door. I quickly ducked down on the other side of the bed as the door knob turned.

“No one,” Jason lied.

“I thought I heard yelling,” Crane said. I held my breath.

“I was on the phone,” Jason said.

“With who?”

“Elana.”

“What did she want?” Crane asked, starting to walk further into the room.

“Why do you care?” Jason contested.

“She wanted you to leave Grayson alone, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Jason insisted.

“This is her room, am I right?” I clenched my fist at his words, my knuckles turning white. I could feel the tension in the air. “It’s very in character. How is she, by the way?”

“I told you to leave her out of this.” Jason’s voice steeled.

“Relax, I’m just curious,” Crane said. There was a pause.

“What?” Jason spoke up.

“Nothing, nothing at all. You… you should get going. Wouldn’t want to keep Grayson waiting,” Crane said absentmindedly.

“Yeah. After you,” Jason said. Again, there was a pause before two sets of footsteps faded out the door. I sighed and got up. There were two options in the situation; I could go try to stop Dick from meeting Jason, or I could go see what Crane had going in the Cave. Maybe I could manage both. I threw on a quarter-zip and put my hair in a ponytail while trying to contact Dick on my comms.

“Dick,” I called into them, keeping my voice down.

“You were supposed to check in an hour ago,” he responded.

“Where are you?” I asked, putting on my gloves.

“The radio station. Where are you?”

“You’re lying. You’re on your motorcycle,” I said, ignoring his question. “I have a plan, but you need to listen to me. I’m doing recon on the Manor-“

“You’re doing what?!” Dick practically screamed.

“Jesus, you’re gonna blow my eardrum. I can do this right, without being seen, as long as you can distract Jason without getting too close. No full-on fight. Just lead him on.”

“What are you talking about? Crane is at the Manor,” Dick argued.

“And I have a plan for that. I’ll be in and out, but I’ll need a pickup, so you can’t, for the love of all things, engage with Jason.”

“Are you sure you can pull this off?”

“Positive.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dick sighed.

“Okay. Get to the Manor in twenty and check in with me in seven minutes,” I told him.

“Copy that,” he said.

“Huntress out.” I turned off my comms. I threw the parts of my suit I wasn’t wearing into a duffel bag and dropped it out the window, near my bike. Per mine and Bruce’s agreement, there were no security cameras outside my door. I took the liberty of disabling the ones outside my window, as well.

Before I dropped my gauntlet with my other stuff, I played back old footage of Bruce in the fourth floor main hallway and sent it to the Batcomputer. Bruce still didn’t know I could do this. I waited for the sound of footsteps to hit the stairs before looping all the first floor cameras and heading down to the Cave. Jason had left to go fight Dick and I had sent Crane upstairs, so I would be able to get down without any interference.

The first thing I did when I got down was play the sound of footsteps through random cameras on the fourth floor to buy myself time without Crane. Then, I took in the damage. The trophy cabinet was broken into, weapons were missing, random files were out on the floor, and it seemed as if Crane had gotten into electronic files, too.

I checked the electronic files first, seeing as those had the most information. I didn’t even have to log in, it was already open. There were 34 files viewed in the last 24 hours, which worried me. But what made my heart skip the most was a new file labeled Elana Queen. It wasn’t something Bruce made. It was made 15 hours before. Hesitantly, I clicked into it.

Under the basic information of my appearance and affiliations, there were dozens of lines of theories, each about me. Who trained me, my allies, even incidents I could’ve been involved in. The worst part was that most of them were accurate. A set of footsteps pulled my attention away.

“You like it?” I turned around to face Crane. The sight of him made my stomach jolt in disgust. His face was all sliced up, gross divots in his skin that set me on edge. Despite that, he wore a smile. “How’d I do?”

“A shitty job,” I growled.

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, dropping a chained scythe so it hung by his feet. “This going to sound weird, but I’d just like to say that you’re my favorite Titan, so I almost feel bad doing this.”

“You could always not,” I offered. I drew away from the computer, so that I was fully facing the manic and ready to pounce. I made the connection I would have to go deal with Jason and Dick after this, seeing as Dick hadn’t checked in, so I couldn’t spend forever with Crane.

“I don’t think you know how this works.”

“Sadly, I do.” He swung his scythe up at me and I activated my cuffs in time to block the attack. He kept swinging and moved toward me, but every attack glanced off the metal of my cuffs. I eventually managed to dodge the blade and grab the chain it was on. I yanked it toward me, pulling him close enough to send a punch to his face. He collapsed to the ground and I pulled his weapon out of his hands, tossing it to the side. Then, I pinned him down, throwing continuous punches to his face.

My brain went numb as my fist slammed into him over and over again. Blood splattered across his face and onto my skin, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. This man had gotten my boyfriend killed and then turned him into a killer. He was the reason the city was going to shit and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Crane’s eyes never lost their mischief, even as they struggled to keep open. His laugh was the thing that stopped me. It was airy and weak, but that did nothing to effect the evil in it. I froze as my fist hung over his face and my chest heaved. I could feel the fire in my eyes. If I kept it up, I would kill him.

“You- you gonna finish it?” he breathed. I activated my cuff once again and aimed it at his throat, inches away from his skin. A million thoughts rushed through my head. A small voice yelled at me to kill him right there, but another voice told me not to. I couldn’t think straight so much to the point my hand shook. My eyes burnt holes in his head, but he simply laughed. With a frustrated cry I shoved myself off him and to my feet. “Oh, come on. Kill me,” he wheezed.

“You’re lucky I have better things to do,” I growled. His laughter echoed throughout the Cave as I took off upstairs.

—————————

I arrived at the scene of the commotion where Jason and Dick were fighting as a crowd had gathered. I watched as Dick grabbed one of Jason’s guns and pointed it at Jason, who was on the ground. I flew off my motorcycle and threw my helmet to the ground, sprinting toward the two costumed men. Dick had gotten distracted by the crowd, and hadn’t seen Jason stand up behind him, loading a gun and pointing it at his head.

“Don’t!” I yelled, throwing myself in between them, so my back was to Dick. “If you want to shoot him, you’ll have to shoot me first.” Jason’s eyes softened, but his gun never lowered.

“Elana?” Dick breathed from behind me. I didn’t respond, too focused on Jason.

“I dare you,” I said to my boyfriend. I stared at him with challenging eyes, daring him to make another move, but before either of us could, three gunshots rang out from behind me. I whipped around to see a kid about my age standing with a gun pointed at Dick and and the latter bleeding from his neck in a bad spot.

“Shit!” I cursed.

“I did it for you,” the boy told Jason. Then, the crowd started chanting his name and moving in toward Dick.

“Give me your gun,” I demanded, turning back to Jason. He didn’t move. “Now!” He shook his head as if clearing his mind and handed me his gun, emotionless eyes never leaving Dick. “Leave. I’ll deal with you later,” I ordered. Once again, he stayed put. “Jason!”

“Right, yeah,” he mumbled before turning and sprinting away. I turned to the crowed that had we ended upon Dick and shot my gun into the air.

“Everyone, leave!” Most backed away before running off, but I had to knock a couple of the braver ones’ guns out of their hands before they got the message. When they were clear, I dropped to Dick’s side and immediately put pressure on his wound. Fear crept up my throat as I realized how bad the wound was. “Come on, Dick,” I muttered. “Stay with me.” He opened his mouth to respond, but only coughed up blood. My heart dropped in my chest. I was going to lose him.

[bardsingingasong]

5+1 Chances to scare you

TITLE: 5+1 chances to scare you | Read on AO3

AUTHOR: Bardsingingasong | MarysseLalonde

RELATIONSHIPS: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd

SUMMARY: Jason never scares, or that's what he says. Kyle is determined to prove the opposite.

           There're 5 times tat Kyle tries to scare his boyfriend and 1 when he gets               it, more or less.

WORD COUNT: 3,677

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Batman-All Media Types, Green Lantern- All Media Types

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning.

RATING: G

ADDITIONAL NOTES: 

Happy Halloween!

Yeah, I know Halloween is already past, but never is too late to celebrate it!

I'm very glad to contribute to this fandom and this precious ship. I hope you enjoy these idiots in love.

As usual, I want to thank my beta, TanisVs, for her work. You're the best girl, and I love you so much!!

Friendly reminder: English isn't my first language. I'm trying to improve my English, but I have a lot of work to do. Please if you wish to comment, first of all, thank you, and least be polite, I'm doing my best.

Enjoy!

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"As if you could scare me.”

Kyle frowned, and raised his head from Jason's shoulder to look at him. It was late at night. The patrol was over, and Kyle was back on Earth for the next month. They had decided to watch a movie, specifically a horror movie.

Growing up in Gotham and being trained by Batman had made Jason think that he was immune to fear. He liked to pretend he couldn't feel that emotion in particular, but Kyle knew it best. After all, the White Lantern was linked to the emotional spectrum.

"As if you were never afraid,” Kyle bit back. "Everyone feels fear sooner or later.” 

"Yes, but it didn't mean you can scare me."

Kyle moved away from Jason, leaning on the sofa to look at him. Jason had that smile of his, which means he was fooling around with Kyle.

"I will," His voice tone was firm. "I know you, I could scare you in one way or another."

Jason stared at him, his smile growing bigger while his fingers held Kyle's chin.

"Sounds like a dare." He sounded playful and sensual. He was using the tone that he knew it drove Kyle mad. He was trying to distract him. Jason probably was bored with the movie, and he was in the mood to play.

And Kyle hated taking the bait so quickly.

"Maybe it is." Kyle was digging his own grave, but he never refused a challenge no matter how absurd it was.

"I would like to see you try."

In a second, Kyle was astride Jason's lap, devouring his mouth.

"It's a dare?" Jason asked between kisses.

"Will you take it?" Jason pulled him and pressed him against his body. His hips were raised, telling Kyle what he was thinking all the time during the movie. That was a little disturbing, but Kyle could understand that it was a time since he was on Earth.

"Maybe later, when I'm not busy".  

There were no more words after that. The movie continued playing in the background, but sooner rather than later, their screams of pleasure ended up covering the scare screams from the film.

Later, when they were resting at Jason's bed, Kyle began to think of his plan attack.

1

“You know, I think we have a ghost in the apartment.”

Jason gave him an incredulous look. He was throw away over the sofa, watching a movie with a large popcorn bowl. Kyle should have joined him, but he had claimed how much he wanted to paint.

"And you think that because... ?"

Kyle stared at him. He usually didn't care how Jason looked like an idiot from time to time, but sometimes he wished his boyfriend would take him seriously. If Jason wanted a reason, he would have one.

"Because I was working on my canvas when some of your books fell from the bookshelf."

“Are you sure it wasn't you who has made them fall?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I'm sure, because your stupid Jane Austen's books are floating everywhere, and I can't do that without my ring."

Red Hood grumbled. He left the bowl on the sofa and paused the movie before he got up. He didn’t seem not much convinced but went to the bedroom anyway. Kyle followed him. The two of them stopped in their tracks at the doorway. The room was uncoordinated, with all Kyle's paints over the bed and the floor. An easel was in front of the windows and on it the unfinished canvas. The scene could be normal, but there were some open books, floating mid-air. The books moved like someone was making them levitate. Maybe for the inexperienced eye they could look more real, but Jason wasn't a beginner. A single look was enough to know what happened there.

"If you make a single scratch on my books, it'll not matter how much I love you, you'll sleep in the streets for the rest of your Earth's days off." Jason said. He turned around and started to walk to the living room. "Put them back on the bookshelf, Rayner.”

The Lantern looked at him and back to the room.

"Aw c'mon, man! Are you serious?!" He ran after him. Jason was again on the sofa with the movie playing and the popcorn bowl on his lap. "You didn't doubt for a second."

"Who do you think I am, Ky?" He threw up a popcorn and ate it in flight. "I work with the big bat, your childish tricks could never fool me."

Kyle sighed loudly. He dropped on the couch, next to Jason, resting his head on the backrest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jason's mocking smile. Acting like a child, the White Lantern set the bowl aside and lay down on Jason's lap, crossing his arms with a pout on his face. Immediately, Jason caressed his hair.

Almost all the time, those gestures made Kyle doubt how people could think Jason was anything but a loving person. He knew how brutal and lethal Jason could be, but it was always for a reason... most of the time. The ex-Robin was very protective of the people he loved, and his love was not easy to earn but if you got it, it would last forever.

In Kyle's opinion, the man had suffered enough to let him be imperfect. Maybe Red Hood didn't comply with Batman's code, but he was efficient, and the same hands that could skew a life they also could be affectionate.  

"Just for curiosity.” Kyle said. "What gave me away?"

"Many things. Your canvas was dry, and I could see the fishing line a mile away". Jason's voice was flat, even bored, but Kyle knew him for years and he could hear a tiny, tiny, note of fun on his tone. "You'll need to be more convincing if you want to scare me, Lantern."

Kyle snorted, giving Jason a bite in his thigh. Scare Jason Todd would be more difficult than he had thought in the first place.

2

"OH MY GOD! JASON!"

Kyle's scream surprised him in the shower. Normally he would have ignored the Lantern while showering, but this time something sounded wrong in Kyle's voice. Jason turned off the tap and wrapped himself with a towel. If it was a joke, he would ensure that his boyfriend would have a punishment.  

Jason walked towards the kitchen, leaving a trail of water behind him. He would clean it up later, when he was sure Kyle hadn't been hurt by any nonsense. If anyone could do something so stupid and end up hurting himself, it was Kyle (and Dick too, but that was another matter). Sometimes Jason would try to explain to himself how Kyle could survive in space and be part of a group like the Lantern Corps as clumsy as he was.

"It may already be import… ant."

Jason fell silent as he entered the kitchen. Kyle was standing by the counter, with a rolled-up cloth tightly covering his hand. The cloth was completely stained red, and was dripping profusely. The cutting board and the knife with which he must have been working until then were equally stained with red. At first glance, it would appear that Kyle had cut himself. Very much so. To be honest, Jason would say that was the best performance the White Lantern could do. He was even crying! He could have fooled anyone, but not Jason. Definitely not Jason, who could distinguish fake blood from the real one with his eyes closed.

Red Hood saved the prank in his mind, he would ensure that Kyle will do it again with the Outlaws. Roy's face would be epic. But for now, he stayed near the door, looking at Kyle with his arms crossed.

"That's the best you can do?" Jason's tone had no emotion, but he arched one eyebrow, revealing his amusement. Jason had left his warm shower to suffer another pitiful try from his boyfriend to scare him. He'll make Kyle paid for it later. For the moment, Jason would be satisfied with dismantling his joke. "I don't know what have you used as fake blood, but it is more liquid than real blood. Nice whack, Lantern."

"In your defense I would say that it could have been quite convincing for someone with no experience. Play the joke on Jordan or Gardner, they'll fall for it."

"What about John?"

"Steward is the smart one in your little gang. He probably won't believe it."

"Does that mean I'm an idiot too?"

Jason didn't answer. He smiled and said:

"You're going to clean up this mess and make dinner while I finish showering, got it?"

Kyle pouted but smiled after. Scare Jason was his challenge, and it would be more fun than the second Robin had thought.

3

"Okay, this time it has to be the final one." Kyle took the final look at his latest work: a tall ghostly figure hanging in the middle of his studio. The smell of fresh paint still hung in the air, as the last layer had not yet dried.

The first two attempts had been a total fiasco, but this time Kyle thought he could make it. He had been working tirelessly for days to finish the puppet of the ghost, covered with layers and layers of fluorescent paint that gave it a rather spooky realism.

That night, none of them would be home. Jason had patrol with the rest of the bats, and Kyle would spend the day working as a team with other Earth Lanterns. That meant the Lanterns had an excuse to drink together, and for Kyle it meant he had an alibi when his prank exploded in Jason's face.

"Okay, Kyle, you can do this."

Kyle had left home early, having left a light construction as an alarm to know when Jason was leaving. So he had come back and set the trap, placing it where Jason didn't expect to find it.

When he returned with the rest of the torches, they bombarded him with questions. Hal and Guy laughed outrageously, while John and Simon looked at him with some disapproval. On the other hand, Jessica smiled at him and gave him new ideas in case the prank didn't work.

Time passed quickly between laughs and drinks, and by the time Kyle returned home, he had forgotten his own trap.

"I'm home," he said, opening the front door.

Jason's muffled voice received him. He wasn't in sight, so Kyle thought he was probably in the bathroom. Exhausted and a little drunk, Kyle went to the bedroom to change his clothes, thinking of making a light dinner for him and his boyfriend later. Suddenly, a tall, shiny figure pounced on him. Kyle, lost in thought, had no time to turn away completely and let out a cry of surprise. The figure collapsed after hitting him, and broke into pieces on the floor.

Kyle stood extremely still, totally taken by surprise, and watched what was left of his joke that he had been working on for a whole week. His drunkenness disappeared suddenly, with the loud sound of his heart beating in his ears. Obviously, Jason hadn't fallen into her trap, but he had.

How ironic, a victim of his own plans.

 "What's broken?" Jason asked, poking his head out the door.

"My dignity..."

Jason was curious, but didn't push for Kyle to tell him what had happened. Kyle looked, and was, very embarrassed, with a strong blush on his cheeks. He just cleaned up the broken pieces of the ghost without saying a word.

Later, when Kyle checked the security cameras, Jason's laughter echoed throughout. And the next day, when he woke up, the icon of an unread message was blinking on his phone. When he opened it, he found a laconic:

<Jason: 3, Kyle: 0>

Sometimes he really hated his boyfriend.  

4

Kyle started to get discouraged. He already had three failures in his mission to scare Jason. Perhaps it was impossible, after all, Jason had been through too many traumatic experiences since he was a child to be afraid of mundane things like ghosts, blood and floating books. Kyle thought about googling. He knew that Gotham had a website where people explained and taught how to make those kinds of scary jokes and traps, not just for Halloween but in case someone wanted to make them at any time of the year. Kyle thought it was a bit disturbing. Some of the jokes were funny, but others also made him think that most people in Gotham needed to go to therapy.

"How do you make a fake cut head? And then they say this city has the highest crime rate in the country. I wonder why."

Kyle decided to try one and ended up watching all the available tutorials. They were really creepy and unpleasant, although Jason probably wasn't afraid of them either.

"But I don't lose anything by trying..."

What Kyle hadn't counted on was having to watch people hide their fake heads in the fridge. That made him feel a lot worse than knowing that he probably couldn't scare his boyfriend, because... Well, the thought of Alex had never stopped hurting him. He had learned to deal with it over time, it was true, but... No, if he was going to play that prank on Jason, he couldn't, shouldn't, even think about going near the fridge with something that simulated a human body part.

The choice of model was quite easy. He couldn't risk anyone going off the rails, so he couldn't choose anyone from Jason's immediate environment. No Waynes, no Alfred, no Outlaws, no Titans in general. So he had to use someone just as willing as he was to play those kinds of jokes. Guy Gardner was always the best choice if you were looking for a partner in crime. Kyle only needed to tell him his plan so Guy would sign up without hesitation.

Now, a large jar was on the kitchen table, and inside was a picture of Guy's head.

"I'm home!" Jason announced from the front door.

Kyle looked up from the picture he was working on and took a look at the jar. He smelled the Chinese food, Jason had brought dinner. "Kyle?"

"Here." Kyle forced himself to stay focused on his work.

Jason walked over to the couch, left a kiss on Kyle's head and went into the kitchen. Kyle needed all his willpower not to look at his reaction. But to his disappointment, Jason pretended that nothing was out of place.

"Okay, I admit I almost believed it this time," he said, calmly. Kyle put the notebook aside and looked at his boyfriend. Jason was taking out the Chinese food boxes, placing them on the counter near Guy's fake head. "Gardner is a pain in the ass, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you decided to give him his due.”

"Don't say that." Kyle leaned against the sofa, watching Jason put the food on the plates. "You should get along better with him, he's my best friend and you're my boyfriend. You get along so badly because you look so much alike."

"Even more so.” When Jason left the dishes on the table, he approached Kyle and leaned in to kiss him properly. "Anyway, it's pretty well done. Can I put it on the shelf?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. Another failed plan.

"Whatever you want. Just don't put it in the bedroom, I don't want to see my friend's head while we're having sex."

5

Everything had failed. Kyle had no ideas anymore, no real strength, to try and scare Jason. His boyfriend was like an iceberg, nothing seemed to scare him, and the most he could do was make him laugh at his pathetic jokes.

"Just jump after him and say 'BOH!'" Dick had said last night, when they were having dinner with Jason's brothers.

Dick's suggestion was absurd. If Jason wasn't scared of anything, he definitely wouldn't do it because of a jump scare. But in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

Kyle came closer to the couch, where Jason was having a nap, using his ring to float and make less noise possible. But he was distracted by the thought that he might give Jason a heart attack, until he suddenly realized that his boyfriend had opened his eyes and was staring at him. Kyle flinched.

"Tell me you're not doing what Dick told you to do." Jason said. His voice sounded sleepy and resigned.

"No?" Kyle replied. Jason raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and Kyle felt his cheeks burning. "Okay, okay! I'm out of ideas."

"Do you want one? Admit your defeat, and come here with me."

That was the last attempt and the last defeat, so Kyle decided to be content, rather than reward himself, by curling up in Jason's arms and abandoning himself to pampering.

6

It had to be a nightmare.

Jason searched Kyle's body, frantic and agitated, desperate to find signs of life. He held the lantern in his arms, his head tilted unnaturally, and his eyes closed.

"Please wake up, Kyle, please, please." Jason whispered.

"Jay..." He heard Roy, who put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly in a gesture intended to be comforting.

The other Lanterns of the Earth landed in front of him. Jason didn't need to look at them to know how they felt. He could hear Jessica's grasp, and he was pretty sure that sound was Gardner hitting something.

That couldn't be happening.

"Jason."

Jason ignored that voice, more focused on stroking Kyle's cheek. His skin was cold, and it shouldn't be. Kyle hated the cold, he always wrapped himself in a lot of blankets when he was in Jason's flat.

"Jason." The same voice called him again.

This time, a firm hand grabbed his arm. Red Hood looked up and met Hal Jordan, the man who had once argued with Batman about how Jason was fucking his beautiful little brother.

"Let it be." Jordan said.

Jason frowned.

"I'm not going to leave him! He's hurt, he needs help!" Red Hood replied, angry.

Jason saw compassion in Jordan's eyes, and he hated him. Why did he feel sorry for him instead of helping Kyle? No one around him was moving a finger, what was wrong with them?

"Jason, he's gone." Roy said.

"He's right here."

"Kyle's dead, Jason." Batman's voice echoed in his head.

"Poor little broken Robin. Did you lose something?" He knew that voice. It was the Joker, chasing him wherever he went. "Maybe if he hadn't been near you, he'd still be alive."

His singing voice made Jason feel sick. Batman was right, Kyle was dead. And the clown was also right, if he had been more attentive, maybe, maybe Kyle wouldn't have had to intervene and...

Kyle was dead because of him.

"Jason."

Someone was calling him, but Jason ignored him. I had to help Kyle, I had to do something. He felt a pang of horrible guilt crushing him to the ground.

"Jason."

The voice was loud. He knew it. It was sweet and quiet, like Kyle's voice when he convinced him to stay home on a rainy day, and drink hot chocolate until they couldn't take it anymore. He felt a wave of affection. That had been a good time.

"Jason, please wake up."

Jason opened his eyes. He could feel his heart beating strongly against his ears.

"Come on, honey, breathe. It was a nightmare."

Jason closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to do it as slowly as possible. When he became aware of his surroundings, he felt someone beside him. A hand was tracing soft circles on his chest, making him feel much more comfortable and calm. A calm voice spoke intelligible words of comfort.

When Jason finally opened his eyes and got used to the twilight, he saw Kyle next to him. He looked very worried, but was smiling softly, surely relieved that Jason had finally calmed down.

"Hey." Jason mumbled.

"Hey." Kyle replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm feeling better." It was going to take Jason a while to recover, but he would work on it.

"It was just a nightmare." Kyle repeated, still anguished.

Yes, it had been a nightmare, but it wasn't just that, Jason wanted to say.

All of Jason's nightmares were hard.

Sometimes the dream was about his own death, other times it was about the death of his loved ones. None of them were better than the other, all of them made Jason feel like a wreck for a while.

"You were dead in my arms," he whispered.

Kyle bit his lip. He felt many emotions bubbling up inside Jason, but (sadly) fear was the predominant one. Kyle curled up on his side, resting his head on Jason's chest. Jason moved to put his arm around Kyle, keeping him close to him.

"I know he was trying to scare you, but that's not how he wanted to do it. Kyle felt Jason's laughter under his cheek as he pressed him a little closer to his body.

"I'll give you that." He said. "But I prefer all the other times, they were much more fun than... this."

They were silent for a while. Kyle began to feel sleepy, although he knew Jason wouldn't fall asleep, at least for the rest of the night. Then... he heard him.

"I love you."

Kyle smiled, barely surprised, but delighted. He felt it, he felt his love overcoming his fear at full speed.

"I know."

Jason mumbled, with a snort.

"Don't quote Star Wars, nerd."

They burst out laughing almost at once. In the end, Jason had gotten scared, though in the way Kyle would have wanted. It didn't matter though, they were together, they loved each other.

And that was the most important thing.

[aconitemare]

[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Four

AO3

Previous Chapter

Dick kicks his foot in the air repeatedly, inspecting the pink flowers on his white Oxfords. He’s pretending to ignore the people around him — possibly, he is actually ignoring them, as the outlines of their bodies blur around his fancy footwear. He leans farther back on Jason’s desk, conjuring the picture of ease. To his left rests Jason’s Red Hood helmet in a gargoyle-fashion. Everyone here knows Jason Todd is the Red Hood, but Dick is just Richie Grayson, D-list celebrity. The sleeves of his pretentiously silk bomber jacket, embroidered with colorful roosters, slip slightly down his shoulder. 

“Is this really the best time to be hiring people? Specifically this person?” This question comes from James — or “Wingman,” as Jason earlier informed him of. James is up-and-coming, bat-themed, Gotham-based vigilante who believes the Red Hood is absolutely critical to public safety. Dick has not yet shared this detail with Batman, having only received it an hour before this current meeting, but he’s hoping they’ll share a good laugh over that.

“No time like the present,” Jason says without much concern. He stands beside the desk, a few feet from Dick. 

Dick catches James crossing his arms from the corner of his eyes. The defensive body language convinces him to focus more on the arrangement of people. Suzie Su still sits on the recliner, seemingly indifferent. Her sisters, one of which Dick recognizes as the waitress who intercepted him and Miguel earlier, flock around Su either on the couch or near her armrest; all except for Night, Dick’s blackjack dealer yesterday, who now occupies a distant corner of the room by herself. Miguel sits in the recliner opposite Suzie Su, playing with his tie. James stands the closest to Dick and Jason and busies himself with looking like he eats nails for breakfast. 

“The son of Bruce Wayne is hardly a sound addition to the Outlaws,” James points out. 

Suzie Su’s head swivels towards Jason. “Oh, no,” she says, suddenly invested, “Whatever ‘the outlaws’ is, count me out of it. I’m going legit, you promised!”

Jason takes a page from Dick’s book and seats himself on the corner of his desk. He grips the edge, knees spread, so that he looks like he’s riding a horse. For an unstably diverse crowd, he’s rather at ease at the head of it, Dick notes. Jason holds up a silencing finger and begins his address, “Firstly, the Outlaws are too legit for any mere mortal to handle, that includes you, Su, so stuff it. Secondly, James, you can also stuff it because no one’s inviting Richie Rich onto the team except you, it would seem.”

So, does that mean I don’t get to see the Super Secret Clubhouse and make friendship bracelets? Dick almost says. Instead, he receives a text alert and checks his phone to see Bruce left him a message. 

What is your plan of action? it reads.

Dick quickly shoots back a non-committal text, wary of Jason sensing Batman’s concern through the phone. Luckily, Jason doesn’t pay Dick’s texting any mind, preoccupied with his stand-off against Wingman. 

James persists, undeterred by Jason’s skilled dismissal. “Batman isn’t exactly in your corner, Todd. He is, however, in Wayne’s pocket. As is Richie Grayson.”

Dick frowns; his current persona is apparently no longer a good fit. He will need to adjust accordingly. Dick sits up straighter on the desk and tucks his legs. “I have my own funds, as a matter of fact,” he speaks up. Jason’s eyes slice into him — oh, right, Dick’s not supposed to talk while meeting the in-laws. Oh, well. He continues, “I work for the Bludhaven Police Department.” 

Dick touches his jacket collar and inspects the interior fabrice. “I try to dress nice when there might be cameras so I don’t make Bruce look bad, but most of it’s bought off-price at Marshalls.” This last part is a lie as he rarely buys his own photo op clothes. Bruce has a personal stylist who keeps everyone’s wardrobe at the Manor stocked. Dick hit up his old bedroom on the way to the hotel. 

“You’re a cop,” James repeats. 

Dick holds back a wince. So much for Agent 37’s kick-ass undercover portfolio. “Every cop’s a little dirty in the ‘Haven,” he says, hopefully smoothly.

Unfortunately, James does not find this comforting. “So not only are you a cop who knows about the Iceberg’s business, but you’re not even a good cop?”

Dick points at Jason. “He murders people,” he deflects. 

Jason sighs obnoxiously loud. “Richie has information and contacts,” Jason increases his volume when James looks like he wants to say something else, “neither of which are anyone’s business at the moment but mine. Believe it or not, but I’m pretty attached to my life, in both a literal and figurative sense, and so if I say the guy from that one lady-service Pantene commercial is going to keep my organs safely inside my body, rest assured, I have done my research.”

This standing ovation inspires Dick to wonder whether Jason saw that commercial on cable or some other venue. He tries and fails to imagine Jason watching Friends reruns. Maybe he caught it off some gun review video on Youtube. This is the kind of media Dick assumes Jason consumes. 

“Great to know,” says Suzie Su flatly. “So, Richie, who’s trying to whack our boss?”

“No one yet. There have been no attempts on his life thus far,” Dick responds. Then, “Also, you can just call me Dick.”

“Shouldn’t be too tough,” Suzie Su remarks.

“The situation will escalate, though,” James states,  “There is no doubt that Red Hood is the final target.”

“Correct. Which is why it’s important that we trust each other,” Dick says. He levels a gaze at everyone in the room except for James, which should indicate to him that he’s the object of criticism without presenting Dick as outwardly hostile. “If we are too busy suspecting each other without any evidence, we allow for outside threats to slip past our radar.” Dick can only hope they will take this to heart; it will be harder for him to investigate Jason’s people if they’re also investigating him.  

“Truth,” Miguel agrees as he stands to his feet and walks towards Dick. “Although it kind of worked out for us this time, right? You following me, us following you?” As he approaches, he extends a hand and Dick dismounts from the desk. “Welcome to the team, Dick,” Miguel says, clapping Dick on the shoulder as they shake. His smile is warm and sincere. Dick feels an equally genuine grin spread across his face. 

“Alright, alright,” Jason says, leaning from his spot on the desk to bat an arm at them. “What did I just say about teams, dude,” he gripes. Miguel shrugs rather blithely before he returns to his chair. Dick appreciates what he hopes will be the one easy-going personality in this tense bunch. 

Jason claps his hands together and stands. “Okay, here’s the deal: I want someone always watching my vehicle for the next, fuck, two weeks, I guess? One week?” He looks to Dick for confirmation. Dick mouths, ‘longer.’ “One week to start, cool,” Jason locks in his answer. “I don’t mean from the cameras, as I really am hoping to catch this person ASAP and get back to my regularly scheduled gangbanging.”

Dick watches the crowd: Miguel gives a whoop, Suzie Su rolls her eyes, one of the sisters not standing in the corner laughs. 

“So, that means I need you,” Jason flourishes his arm in the air and brings it dramatically down like a hammer, finger pointing sharply at Miguel, “to physically be in the parking lot.”

Miguel looks around in bafflement. “I’m the owner. That would look weird,” he says, gesturing towards himself.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone is lining up for your autograph, too, now come off it. No one here is instantly recognizable except for me, and that’s mostly to do with the helmet,” Jason pats the helmet beside him emphatically, “giving me serious red Darth Vader vibes.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. Jason hears him anyway, but that turns out to be not so bad. Jason’s eyes flicker towards him but they’re absent of reproach, which is how Dick realizes he had expected to be growled at for his humor. But Jason made the joke, didn’t he? He goes so far as to smile, not threateningly, but pleasantly. Dick wants to call it soft even. 

Jason’s eyes are back on the ragtag team within the second. He explains properly his reasoning to Miguel. “The subject’s abilities and target range are unknown to us. You’re our safest bet for handling whatever he might be capable of. And you can wear whatever you want.” Dick assumes that last bit is weighted with the implication of a supersuit, although Miguel’s secret identity may very well be known considering the lack of visible confusion on anyone’s face. Of course, that could just be indifference; no one in this room seems particularly interested in each other. 

“If you see someone snooping, wait it out. If you see someone put something on my bike, apprehend them and bring them to me where I can then proceed to shoot their brains out,” Jason instructs. Dick tries to say something, but Jason says over his attempt, “If they’re guilty.”

“Not really the problem,” Dick mutters. 

“The Su Brigade can, I don’t know, keep doing what you’re doing, I guess? Keep an eye on suspicious figures.”

Dick chimes in, “This time, however, immediately report to Jason or myself. Don’t rush in unless the threat is urgent. Don’t,” he motions to James, “text James, or whatever it is you guys did. That was sloppy and uncoordinated.”

James shifts his weight more evenly. Dick instantly recognizes the implicit challenge and straightens his back. “Text you, huh? What, you the boss now?”

Dick files through his possible responses, weighs the best tone to take, the stance to adopt. Should he pick up the gauntlet and try to assert dominance, or go for diplomacy? He doubts this will come to blows, but the direction he takes this could have later consequences, could affect Jason’s safety even in the long-run. 

Dick almost misses the change in Jason’s posture, but it’s instantaneous. “He’s close enough,” Jason has already spoken, no longer leaning against the desk but standing with his hands deceptively plunged into his jeans pockets and his searing green eyes locked on James. “More the boss than you are, at any rate, so yeah, I’d text him.” He sounds almost casual, accent set in a lazy Gotham drawl, yet there’s an angered click to how he sets his teeth. He’s intimidating, alright, the sharp cut of his cheeks complementing his strong jaw. He’s quite Hollwood-esque actually, Dick thinks — at least before he realizes Jason is looking right back at him. Jason raises his eyebrows and spins his fingers in a prompting manner. “Well? Anything else you’d like to derail the meeting with, Dick?”

And just like that, Jason manages to personally undermine the power he just gave him. Dick is bordering on impressed, restrained only by his sudden irritation. Dick simply smiles and says, “You’re the boss.”

“Fantastic. James! How do you feel about interrogating people you can’t beat up?” Jason proposes to the next member of the non-team. 

Dick thinks James could question people without beating them up just fine, especially after the practice he got in while interrogating Dick. James doesn’t comment on whether he’s up to the task, however, but replies, “Who am I interrogating?”

Jason grins and quickly bows his body. “A witness. Exciting, right? Unfortunately, no, not exciting. This will suck for you. Daniel Garcia, the second victim, should be at Gotham General Hospital — fingers crossed he has insurance, because otherwise you’ll have to find out where he lives and talk to him there.”

Dick could be projecting, but he thinks James puffs up his chest at this. “I can find anyone anywhere,” vows James.

“I’ve no doubt, buddy. I just would prefer he not have to relive everything the second he gets home because a stranger wants to hear the gory details,” Jason explains. His tone is slightly scolding. There might be some decency in him yet. Dick immediately feels guilty for being surprised. Jason is a good guy. A good guy. He’s said as much to Bruce. Did he forget to tell himself the same thing?

“Bring some flowers to soften things,” Dick suggests.

“Flowers don’t soften a crowbar, Dick,” Jason disagrees. Still, he adds for James, “But yeah, bring flowers. The family won’t like you for it, but they’ll hate you even more if you don’t.”

“Do we have to do anything?” Suzie Su asks, a little unhappily, it would seem. Dick doesn’t trust her. Then again, would she be so openly disloyal if she was double-crossing? The only person in this room Dick trusts is Miguel — and even then, if there’s one thing Batman has been trying to drill into him for half his life, it’s that trust is a liability. Anyone here could logically be a mole. Anyone here could be loyal, too. 

“No, Suzie Su, I expect absolutely nothing from you and that’s why I dragged you to a staff meeting, so you could sit on your ass and pick at your nails,” Jason intones. Suzie Su drops her manicured nails to her lap and glares at him. Jason sticks his tongue out in response. “You and your lovely sisters of questionable bloodline are my ears to the ground.”

“So, same as before?”

Jason cocks his head, shakes it up and down as if weighing the question, and says, “K-i-i-i-i-nd of? It’s like what you were doing before, but not complete garbage. Need I remind you that you let this idiot into my office.” Jason jabs his thumb in Dick’s direction.

Miguel raises his finger. He’s properly relaxed in his cushiony recliner, legs crossed and arms spilling over the back. “Ah, but you let the idiot stay,” he reminds Jason. 

Dick twists his lips. “Thanks, Miguel. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Jason decides. “Alright, everyone out of my office and onto the things I demand of you. Dick, you’re coming with me.”

The crowd is already dispersing. Dick hops off the desk and pats the wrinkles from his pants. “Why’s that? I thought you didn’t want me breathing down your neck.”

Jason’s back is to Dick as he fastens his Red Hood helmet over his head, which tips Dick off that some of his people outside the office might still not know who’s under the mask. Jason’s response is rougher than before. “You saw the tapes, didn’t you?” The energy from only a minute ago has melted from his voice. The helmet lights up then and Jason’s next words are modulated, shrouded in static. “That makes you the expert.”

Dick does not miss the irony of this statement. 

  ___________

  Dick has Jason drive him to Bludhaven. Jason has many cars and not a single one is worth less than $80,000. “How do you blend in?” Dick asked on the way to his shitty apartment across the pond, Jason looking absolutely put-upon by the half-hour drive.  His Red Hood helmet has been stowed away in a personally customized, hidden compartment. “I don’t,” Jason simply replied. Dead guys, according to Jason, don’t need to feign poverty. Especially if those dead guys are better known for their underground empires and resort casinos. However, two rich men in a luxury vehicle don’t have much business commiserating with the family of boys like Terry Weind. So, the two stop by Bludhaven to pick up Dick’s Saturn and allow him to change into less flamboyant clothes. 

Dick chooses a threadbare BPD t-shirt and jeans. Jason stays in his signature ensemble of leather jacket and combat boots. He raises his brows at Dick’s outfit, but Dick insists it’s a good choice. Even if they don’t like the police, he’s still out of uniform and unarmed, and they’ll know this isn’t his territory. He’ll seem like a commuter, which might even win him some subconscious sympathy; many people in downtown Gotham have to commute to Bludhaven, albeit usually for a fishery job and not the police department. 

Jason waits in the car for Dick to come out. Dick invites him in, but secretly he’s relieved. The place is a mess. If how he keeps his office is a hint, Jason’s habits are immaculate. They would put Dick to shame. Dick taps Jason’s window to signal they’re switching to the Saturn. Jason takes an excessively long time to part with his car, all but cooing at it, but does eventually make it over. He settles into the passenger seat, looking Dick up and down.

“What?” Dick asks, perhaps defensively. He should’ve said something like, “Like what you see?” but it’s too late for that. 

Jason shrugs casually, but his eyes flicker to Dick’s hair. “Nothing. You just look normal now.” 

Dick jams his keys into the ignition, because he has to be rough for the car to start, and rolls his eyes. “You mean my hair’s not gay?”

“Eh. Less gay.” And then Jason is reaching out and ruffling his hair, fingers curling through the still-damp waves. Dick stuck his hair under the bathroom sink’s faucet before putting his shirt on. He got water everywhere, but he needed to get the product out. He weirdly hopes Jason doesn’t feel any lingering stickiness, that his hair is soft to touch. 

Jason’s face abruptly screws up in confusion as if he isn’t sure how he got here. Slowly, he retracts his hand and sits straight in his seat. Dick didn’t notice how open Jason’s body language was just a moment ago, but he notices how it closes. His knees no longer point towards Dick but to the windshield; his arms, once extended towards him, now fold across his chest. Dick stares at him for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle he suspects they almost had. 

Jason’s presence always has that mystifying effect on him, however, like he’s a monument to all the almosts they’ve been. When Jason was Robin, they were almost friends. When he was the Red Hood, they were almost enemies. Then they might have been brothers, could have been, maybe. There had been that night on the rooftop when Dick had managed to slip through Spyral’s many fingers — when Barbara had run away and Damian had embraced him and Tim demanded why, why — Jason had drawn blood as his voice broke because you don’t do that to your. Almost.

They are always on the verge of some new meaning. 

“Well?” asks Jason. “Are you waiting for me to set up the GPS? You know the address, let’s go.”

Dick quickly recovers and begins edging out from his spot between two other parked cars on the street. “What are we, drag racing? Jeesh.” They avoid traffic for the drive over but do swing into a corner store once they’re in Gotham again. Jason buys the most expensive bouquet available while Dick fiddles with a rack of playing cards. Pokémon? Magic? Would Terry care about either of those games? He sees Jason head to the counter and grabs a random card pack to check out. His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he finishes counting off the dollar bills. He hands the cashier $16 and unlocks his phone. It’s from Bruce.

Any progress?

Dick begins typing out an answer when he remembers the boundaries he agreed on with Jason. He said he wouldn’t share any details with Bruce unless Jason okay’d it. He could let Jason know Bruce is asking, but even mentioning Bruce tends to sour him. Dick would rather get through this meeting with Terry Weind first. He makes a mental note to inform Jason later and give Bruce a non-answer if he says no. 

Ten minutes later and they’re standing on narrow porch steps. The wooden planks are dark and splintery and covered in cigarette butts where an ash tray has been knocked down. Dick squats down and picks it up; ceramic, woodsy-green and leaf-shaped. He sets it atop the paint-chipped banister while Jason knocks on the door. The walls are thin enough that Dick can trace the sound of someone walking down the stairs. It’s summery outside today, the earth baked through by the sun, but he’s thinking of winters down here. Even with a good furnace, these walls must let the chill in. 

A woman opens the door in her nightgown, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. Her eyes are red and the skin beneath them sags. Her skin is almost ashen. She looks tired. She is tired, she’s exhausted, Dick can feel it when he looks at her. Her exhaustion is a heavy substance that spreads out and sinks into his flesh. 

“Are you Terry’s mom?” Jason asks. He has the flowers already at his chest. His voice is stiff with emotion. Dick recalls his comment about Daniel reliving trauma and wonders if that’s what Jason is doing right now. 

The woman nods and says that, yes, she is, but little changes in her expression. Dick had been expecting confusion, but she accepts the flowers without hesitation. Evidently, they are not remotely the first ones to share condolences. “My name’s Laura,” she says, touching the waxy petal of a calla lily. Her voice is soft and deep as if it’s been anchored to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m Jason.”

“Dick,” Dick says after him. 

Laura opens her mouth silently for a few seconds before carefully telling them, “I appreciate you boys coming here and wishing us well. It’s been hard, but we’re grateful to the community’s response, it’s been wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me not inviting you in, it’s just that I work grave and don’t get much sleep, and Terry’s resting.”

“We understand. But actually, we’re not just here to offer our sympathy — though you do have it, of course,” Dick conveys. He rushes the words of each clause so his speech comes out in quick, nervous chunks. He’s dipping head, taking up as little room as possible while moving closer to her. Jason takes a step back to accommodate him. He wants to represent himself as sincere, perhaps too sincere to the point of being clumsy. People often think inept and trustworthy are the same thing; the logic goes, you can’t be hiding any tricks up your sleeve if you’re more likely to spill them on the floor. 

“If you turn us away, we get it, don’t worry,” assures Dick, “but this is our city and our kids are getting snatched.”

Laura begins shaking her head. “Oh, no, he’s not answering any questions — ”

“We won’t ask as many questions as the police,” Dick hurries to say. “We don’t need to. We,” here, Dick breaks off his speech and looks uncertainly at Jason, feigning hesitance. Then he takes a galvanizing breath, readying for his big leap, this information he’s sharing only with Laura. “I work part-time at the Park Row Memorial. I’m a guard, similar work to what I do with the Bludhaven Police. We have it monitored 24/7 so it doesn’t become a high-crime area again.” Dick sighs in frustration and bites his lips. “Laura,” he says firmly, staring into her eyes. Her pupils have dilated along his story. Good. “I saw Terry that night. The police haven’t even asked Park staff yet, they don’t care. But I saw it happen and I think I can do something about it.”

The best cover story is always based in reality. The best lies are true. 

Laura’s eyes drop the ground as she thinks. She’s also biting her lip. Dick ponders over whether she does that often and Dick got lucky, or if she’s mirroring him. Either way, he’s won her over. She shuffles to the side and waves them in, her movements less languid than before. 

She leads them to the stairwell and says, “If he doesn’t want to answer questions, he doesn’t have to. I’m not going to force him, you got it? Get what you can and hope it’s useful.” With this, she climbs the steps to the second floor, Jason and Dick following at an appropriate distance. They pause at the top step while she enters Terry’s room and explains in hushed tones his guests. She relates Dick’s reason for being here and then there’s a long pause before Dick detects a faint, “Sure.” 

Dick and Jason share a look that confirms: they’re in. Laura places a light hand on Jason’s bicep and guides them to the door. “I’ll stand right here,” she says firmly and waves them forward. Dick looks around for a chair, sees none, and settles on the windowsill facing Terry’s bed. He’s faired better than the next two kids, all injuries considered. He was out of the hospital in a month. He lies in his twin-sized mattress beneath a crisp sheet, a blue comforter shoved to the foot of his bed. A square bandage covers his right cheek, there’s stitching over his right eyebrow, and there’s more stitches on the right side of his skull. His right arm and knee have been set in casts. Dick remembers him curling onto his side at one point in the video. 

In the wake of the other victims’ hospital records (courtesy of Oracle), Terry’s assault had been carried out with perfunctory brutality. Dick recollects the scene but recalls no hesitation in the attacker’s swings, yet their violence has clearly increased. Perhaps they are doing someone else’s dirty work and the job has just now awakened a taste for pain in them. Or maybe it’s one guy after all and they’re adjusting to the role. 

“So, you know the fucker who did this?” Terry speaks up first. His voice is a little rough and definitely fatigued. Despite his current infirmity, Dick can tell he’s a sturdy kid. He’s got the same build Jason had at that age, youthfully broad with natural muscle in the absence of training. A body with room to grow in. 

Dick shrugs. “Not personally. But we hold out hope. What did his face look like? Any defining features?” he attempts, even knowing that Terry’s report claimed to make out nothing from the night of the attack.

Terry was looking at Jason beforehand, which Dick can’t blame him for. Jason takes up most of the room as he stands by Terry’s feet, stock straight with his massive arms folded. Dick has a habit of downsizing Jason in his head. In general, Dick’s guilty of subconsciously diminishing certain people’s threat levels, letting his familiarity with them obscure the danger they still pose. He does his best to put himself in Terry’s shoes and see what he might see; he accomplishes this by summoning the first night he encountered the Red Hood before he was also Jason Todd, fallen boy wonder. Even without the vigilante get-up, the man’s intimidating. 

Now that Dick has asked a question, however, Terry’s eyes appraise him. Dick once again folds in on himself, tucking his arms closer to his sides and leaning back so he’s as out of Terry’s space as he can be. Then Terry’s eyes stray to the floor and he mumbles, “Looked like nothing. It was dark.” But he doesn’t say it like it was nothing. 

“You saw something,” Dick contests. He’s not going to wheedle or coax, he decides, because that would just leave Terry room to equivocate. “You don’t know what you saw, but you saw something, and whatever that is will help us more than pretending there weren’t streetlamps.”

Terry grimaces. The twitch of his battered face reminds Dick of his age and his heart aches. There should be a grace period for children, an exception made for those still new to this earth. He hates that pain is one of the first things they learn. “He was white, I guess,” Terry supplies. His good fingers have found a loose thread on the hem of his pushed-down sheets. He picks at it. “He never said a word the whole time. It was quiet. He — I saw his hands. I thought, I thought the police would find his thumbprints or whatever, on me, but that’s not how it works, they said. They were all fucked up.”

“The hands or the police?” Jason interjects.

Terry doesn’t look up from his loose thread, but one half of his mouth pulls up into a faint, flickering smile. It manages to be bright even so. “The hands. There were old scars all over the knuckles. Dry, too, like he never heard of lotion.”

Dick supposes the attacker could work in manual labor, but it’s unlikely if there were truly that many scars and all old. “Just the knuckles?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Dick guesses he’s experienced with combat. The ugly, close-up kind. Still, just the knuckles, that sounds more like punishment than accident. And the dry skin? That could easily be eczema, although wouldn’t a seasoned killer think to cover up, prevent skin follicles from falling into a lab tech’s hands? It is summer, but Gotham runs more humid than dry, so perhaps they’re dealing with a foreigner. “And the face?” he prompts. 

Terry abruptly drops his hand from the nervous thread and sighs raggedly. “Nothing, man. I couldn’t see anything, okay, it was,” Terry falters, “confusing.”

“Confusing how?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know!” Terry’s voice pitches in frustration. “It was weird, all swirly and shit.”

Dick can hear the criticism leak into Jason’s tone when he curtly repeats, “Swirly.” 

Terry backpedals. “I said I don’t know,” he mutters. 

Swirly voices sound familiar to Dick. He used to have one for a time when he played James Bond for Spyral. “I think we might have a contact, Jay,” Dick muses. 

“Really?” Jason says with noticeable surprise. “Swirly’s our big break?”

“Emphasis on the might and ixnay on the big.” To Terry, he says, “Tell me, does tsuchigumo ring any bells?”

Terry’s face scrunches up. “Does what huh?”

Dick will take that as a no. “Oh, well. Still worth looking into,” he says. Dick stands and retrieves the card pack from his plastic bag. He holds it up for Terry to see before setting it down on the bed. Terry takes it immediately and brings it up to his face for inspection. “Your mom has the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but let me know if you need or want anything. Oh.” Dick swivels his head around the room. There’s not much to it aside from a bed, a dresser, and a box T.V. collecting dust. “Do you have something I can write my number on?”

Jason chooses that moment to step forward, sliding between Dick and where Terry lies. He leans across, a crisp, laminated paper balanced between his index and middle finger. “Here’s my card. Let me know if you have any more information or if either of you need help,” he explains. Terry sets Dick’s gift down and gingerly accepts the card. He flips it over: no logo, just a phone number.

“That’s it?” says Terry. “What contact? Who did this?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I wish I had more to give you two,” Dick says sympathetically to Terry and Laura, the latter of whom hasn’t left her post by the door. She rests her cheek on the frame and watches on.

Terry has more questions though and he’s edging on excited. “Are you P.I.’s? Why do you even care? I bet you fucking did this, or one of your boys — ”

“I understand your distrust,” Dick says over him. He glances nervously at Laura to gauge what she thinks of the accusation and if she’s about to step in. She’s a little straighter, body no longer depending on the wall, but her face is still impassive if alert. Dick hurries to smooth this over. “You don’t know us well enough to understand why we care. We have to prove ourselves, I get that. And we will. Until then, you’ve got nothing to lose, right? All we know is you didn’t see anything.”

Terry stares at him silently, suspicion darkening his eyes. There is risk in coming here, of course, depending on how well Terry’s attacker can trace Jason’s footsteps. But Dick has already weighed the risks and he’s betting that Terry’s part is done here insofar as the criminal is concerned. Luckily, Terry can’t identify what he’s got to lose or how much he has told them between the lines, so the charges drop like that. 

There’s a few beats of silence before Jason starts fidgeting. “Yea-a-a-h, we’re going to go now,” he announces, pointing over his shoulder towards the window. Dick could cringe, he’s so awkward. 

“Thanks to both of you,” Dick says and smiles as warmly as he can. He trails closely behind Jason who shuffles towards the door, his body too tall and too broad to fit comfortably in the modest room. Unthinking, the pads of Dick’s fingers feather over Jason’s back as if to guide him forward. As Jason moves, Dick lets his fingers linger in the air, covering up the touch with empty space. He curls his fingers in and tucks them behind his back. Laura follows them out. 

“Thank you again,” Dick says at the door. “We’ll be in touch if anything develops,” he promises. And he will be; if not as Dick then certainly as Nightwing. 

Laura thanks them half-heartedly. Dick suddenly feels self-conscious about the Pokémon cards. He may as well have given them a box with nothing inside it or a flashlight without a bulb. He heads back to the car, feeling Laura’s heavy gaze on his shoulders the whole way. 

Dick is buckling himself in when Jason opens the passenger door. “Mind sharing with the class what information was so decisive you had no further questions?” he asks as he climbs into the car. 

“No questions Terry could answer. This is the best we can do for a lead,” Dick explains. He needs to make a call, but that will have to wait until they’re on the road and not idling outside a victim’s house. Maybe he can take them to a restaurant, buy Jason a drink, a friendly gesture. Would Jason want to drink with him though?

“Yeah, about that,” Jason says as the car shoots off, “what lead?”

Scratch the drink; neither of them are lightweights, but on principle, they shouldn’t drink during an ongoing investigation. Still, he could buy them some sub sandwiches. He used to buy food for Tim all the time back in the day, as a reprieve from the typical Batman and Robin style of accidentally fasting until the case is resolved.

They reach a redlight almost immediately. Dick drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Spyral uses this tech called ‘Hypnos 2.0.’ They slide in kind of like contacts? They’re eye implants basically, but they transmit information between your brain and the brain of whoever’s looking at you. Their most common application was hiding your identity. If someone looked at you, they’d just see a scrambled mess instead of a face.”

Jason’s face scrunches up as he stares out the windshield. He scratches his head. “Scrambled like Picasso or.”

The light turns green. “More like a spiral,” Dick says lightly, nodding conversationally. 

“Thematic,” Jason comments. 

“Very. And the uniforms weren’t too shabby either.” He adds the joke more to test the waters than anything, gauge how delicate a topic Spyral is between them. Everyone in their family has a slightly different relationship with Dick’s double life. Bruce and Damian’s have been the easiest, marked by faint curiosity about his activities and begrudging acceptance of help from associated colleagues. The others have been noticeably more dodgy and uncomfortable regarding for Spyral. Dick’s stint as as Agent 37 has made everyone evasive, even for bats. 

If Jason would normally have an emotional reaction to Spyral, he’s too preoccupied for one now. Dick can practically see the gears in his mind turning as his eyes narrow and his chin falls to rest on his hand. Dick feels simultaneously relief and shame; of course, Spyral is just a lead. Spyral may have been Dick’s life at one point, but to Jason, it’s just an organization. At best, contacting Spyral could save his life. At worst, well, Dick’s not expecting Jason to unpack whatever baggage Dick left in Gotham. 

Dick resists the urge to grimace at his own thoughts. He’s overthinking. Can one overthink a ruthless spy agency that up until a year ago controlled his every movement? 

Jason’s voice, slow and thick with the sound of a city that’s always been his, reels Dick back to shore. “Dare I ask what the uniform entailed?”

“Cargo pants,” Dick answers simply. He’s watching the road ahead, but he can hear Jason make a pleasantly surprised noise. They pass a fire hydrant painted to look like a sunflower. Dick thinks it’d be nice for Bludhaven to do that and makes a note to push the idea at city hall after the case. 

“So, you think that this guy is from Spyral?” Jason asks. 

Dick shrugs. “That, or he’s connected enough to snag some tech. We should check first with the other two victims, see if their descriptions match up with Terry’s. If they do, it’s probably Spyral and not some low-grade black market street vendor. Nine of out ten optometrists do not recommend mind control contact lenses.”

Jason slams his hand down on the middle compartment. “Mind control?” he exclaims. When Dick glances at him, Jason’s expression is mostly shock with a sliver of what might be plain rage. But that would be an overreaction considering all the other crimes Spyral is guilty of. All the crimes they’re guilty of, especially Red Hood, although making that argument would be more trouble than it’s worth. 

Dick tries not to let Jason’s sheer judgment weigh on him. Dick has far more pressing guilt elsewhere to torture himself over. Still, it’s hard not to feel righteous rage on Jason’s behalf. He often forgets this part of Jason’s character, this abrupt sense of justice that powers him, but it’s no less prominent than it is in Bruce or himself. It might actually be stronger in Jason, a little left of center, but bleeding red nonetheless. Unfortunately, car safety dictates Dick not be on the receiving end of justice, so he replies as casually as possible, “Well, that’s what Hypnos is, essentially.”

“No way.” Jason points an accusatory finger that Dick sees from his peripheral. A street corner features a hot dog stand. Dick nearly pulls over, but the finger might kill whatever buzz a chili dog can offer. “Don’t ‘that’s-what-Hypnos-is-Jason- obviously ’ me. You just said it transmits info.”

Dick did not think his tone had come off condescending in the least. But if that’s what Jason got from it, then perhaps he missed casual and landed on dismissive. Bludhaven must be eroding his tact already. “Sorry. When I said it transmits information, I meant it as a blanket statement for everything it does. Hypnos can alter memories, which is more-or-less how the identity protection works, by modifying one’s memory of a face. It can send someone a location address or really anything you have stored in your own memory, which is helpful. It can also send orders.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s helpful, too,” Jason derides. He looks like he smelled something bad. Was Dick this perturbed by Hypnos when he first joined Spyral? He doesn’t think so. He had been so quickly embroiled in so many terrible things. What was a little crowd control in the face of cold, efficient, and constant murder? 

The guns. The feel of one is his hand like death itself, how they loomed in his bedroom and among his gear, beckoning him closer to an edge everyone wanted to push him off of. The guns had overshadowed all else for him. 

“Either way,” Dick carries on, ��it’s unlikely this guy has his hands on Spyral tech without Spyral knowing something about him. They keep close enough watch over people that have nothing to do with them, let alone people that have access to their technology. He could be anywhere from an engineer to a passing contact, but he’s no ghost.”

“Terrific. Exactly what I need, a mind-controlling stalker from an quasi-omniscient spy organization hellbent running around on the streets of Gotham.”

Dick shrugs. “Gotham’s had it worse.”

“Have I?”

“I don’t know. Have you?” Dick retorts. 

Jason scowls. “Wouldn’t be my first assassination attempt, I suppose,” he concedes.

Dick perks up and offers him a grin. “And it won’t be your last!” he crows. 

Jason just stares at him, utterly perplexed. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is curled above his teeth in bewilderment. 

“Because you’ll be alive,” Dick hurriedly explains. “You know, like, woohoo!” He takes one hand off the wheel to pump the air triumphantly. 

“Woohoo,” Jason repeats hollowly. “Insanity.”

“What?” asks Dick. They will be coming up on the grinder shop soon. Should he suggest lunch to Jason or just drag him in? He’s leaning towards dragging. That seems more effective.

“That we’re all just living to hopefully get killed a day that’s not tomorrow,” Jason observes. 

It’s not more cynical than funny, but something in Jason’s tone — the utter resignation, perhaps — makes Dick laugh anyway. “Everyone on earth’s on borrowed time, really,” he says, not unhappily. Death hasn’t frightened him since he was young. Exposure therapy, he called it once during some Titans mission that feels a lot farther in the past than it is. “The reckless and foolhardy like us, we’re just more aware of it.”

Jason blows air out from his nose in a mix between a snort and a laugh. “And here I thought vigilante-types were less aware of their own mortality.”

“Are you kidding? You have to know you’re walking towards death to find that exact path each night. Snatched purses, drug rings, elitist assassins dressed as owls, fear gas and escaped convicts and murderous clowns — and we run right towards them with open arms,” Dick says, irony guiding his grin as Jason smirks back at him. 

“And open chest cavities, half the the time,” Jason tacks on. 

Dick nods fervently. “Yes, let’s not forget that,” he tries to say seriously, but laughter trips him on the last word. “I don’t know. I think it’s all very sane, actually, to see what’s going on and get involved, do what you can to make everything a little bit better. But too much sanity can look like insanity, for sure.”

Jason does snort this time. “Keep moralizing like that and you’ll sound straight out of a conversation between the Joker and B.”

Dick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. I hope not.”

“‘We’re the same, you and I,’” Jason croons in a wispy, sing-song voice. “‘Sane and in-sane.’”

Dick can make out the small, white-background-red-letters sign of Hester’s Grinders a few yards down the road. There’s just enough room before the fire hydrant — this one plain, chipped red — to safely park. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll keep my philosophies to myself. And so long as we’re changing the subject — hungry?”

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