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amazingflyingdick · 4 years

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right here.

WHO: Dick Grayson @amazingflyingdick, Jason Todd @thatsjasonfkntodd, and mentions of Barbara Gordon @the-orxcle. WHERE: A random alleyway. WHEN: June 30th, 2020. WHAT: After receiving a text from Babs, Jason goes to check on Dick and comes across a disturbing scene.

Jason: The last thing he wanted to do was leave Roy alone, and he’d had a mind to keep arguing with Babs until she’d told him the name given. Dick’s sudden silence over the comms immediately took on a more sinister feeling. Roy would just have to be alright for a little while. Jason told him he was going out, that it shouldn’t be long, but didn’t give details beyond that. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening and it wasn’t the time to lay out a bunch of speculation.

He didn’t take his mask or any of the armor, but he grabbed his twin pistols and the Kris dagger and stored all three in his jacket. Hopefully he wouldn’t need them. Hopefully he’d be rolling up on Dick putting a band aid on some kid’s knee, get a lecture for being in public and armed, and be able to go back to Roy’s apartment. Hopefully, hopefully.

It was only a couple of blocks, Babs had given him the location, and it didn’t take him long to skip roofs until he got over there. He didn’t see anything at first. There was no NOVA patrol, no agents. Hell, there weren’t even civilians. When he abandoned height advantage to get his feet on the ground, he ended up seeing the blood before he saw his brother. The dark red seeping into concrete sidewalk was a too-familiar sight in his life. With a whispered Fuck, he followed the line of it until he saw Dick leaned against the side of a dumpster.

The fabric of his jeans scrubbed against the concrete as he got down beside him. “Dick...hey, hey man, I need you to answer me.” He swallowed the bile in his throat and ignored the rising panic. Shallow wounds bled a lot, more than they should. Might just be that. Dick: The scraping sound Jason's jeans made on the ground made Dick react. He wasn't sure what happened, not really, but the ringing in his head was loud and persistent and he was tired. It wouldn't be the first time he'd worked past his scheduled shift, but there was no reason he should still be here. The bar was dark and he couldn't hear anyone, couldn't see anyone except...

"Jay?" His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. He felt something warm and wet on his cheek and he reached up to follow the trail back up to the side of his left eye. Even with gloves on, he felt the hole. The bullet went straight through and out the back of his head, the projectile embedded in the brick just a few inches above his head. He'd been kneeling when he was shot. "I think I cut myself. What time is it? Does Bruce know you're in Bludhaven?" The matter-of-fact, concerned tone was so utterly normal and completely displaced in a dark, blood-soaked alley.

The buzzing in his ears was getting louder. Dick winced and pushed to his feet, barely leaning against the wall before pressing his hand against his head. Blood had already soaked the back of his hair and uniform. He had the vague understanding that something was wrong but he didn't know what it was, but his mind jumped between what he was seeing and strange, disconnected memories that were part hallucination. "Think you can go get me the first aid kit, Little Wing? It's in the back, under the sink. I'm okay, I just have to patch myself up." Jason: Jason felt his throat go tight as he saw just where the blood was coming from. It was too dark where they were for him to see the wound itself, but it was clear that the source of all the bleeding was the back of his head. That coupled with the delirium, or maybe he was full on hallucinating, had Jason reaching out for him as soon as Dick stood up.

“I think it’s a little bigger than a cut, dude. Why don’t you...why don’t we sit back down for a minute...” They all knew field medicine, basic first aid, things that would keep them alive until they got actual medical care at the Batcave or the hospital or somewhere. Jason had a first aid kit on him, but it was small, the most basic of basics. There was gauze, though, and he had to do something to stop the bleeding. “Let me check you out. You can’t reach it yourself.”

Once he had the space to do it, Jason shifted until he was at Dick’s side instead of in front of him. He reached up with one hand, ready to feel for a cut. What he got instead was unmistakably a gunshot wound. As soon as he touched it, he jerked his hand away like he’d been burned and felt a trickle of cold go all the way through him. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

He yanked the whole roll of gauze out and the tape with it. Before he even got started, he sent Babs a single line of text.

Send medical.

Dick: Dick did stop when Jason reached out, confused, but when he brought his hand away from his head he could see it was wet. It looked black in the dim lighting of the alley. He looked down at the blood on the pavement, already congealing, and thought there was no way he could even have that much blood in his body. It couldn't all be his.

"What happened? Was there a fight?" Something happened, something bad. That was something even he could reason out, despite being more and more distracted by the ringing in his head. It was giving him a headache. "Just a head wound. They bleed a lot, remember? Pretty sure I still have that scab from the train." That had been more than ten years ago. Dick's mind was jumping back and forth. One minute he knew he was in an alley in Star City, but the next he was just as convinced that this was Bludhaven. Jason was fourteen. Bruce was going to be mad at him for letting him in the bar at all, even if it were closed.

Jason's hasty movements made him reach over and calmly pick up the tape. He was already tearing off a piece for him by the time Jason finished with the text. When he set the roll down and saw that just his hand left it soaked in blood, he had a sinking feeling in his chest. "Jason." His sudden change in tone, urgent, with an edge of fear, made it obvious that he was back in Star City. Suddenly he was talking fast, eager to get the information out before there wasn't time. He could barely focus. "The kid I found, he said his name was Gary Kemp. The NOVA agent. I don't know who shot me, but..." He paused, blinking, and reached up to touch the wound even if it meant getting in the way of any first aid Jason was rendering. "Oh no." He was shot in the head? Dick laughed softly. "Now I have to come up with something better to say just in case my last words end up being about NOVA." Jason: As soon as he pressed gauze to the wound, it was soaked through with blood. He packed more onto it for both sides, and taped it down even though it meant pressing it to Dick’s hair. It wasn’t going to help for long. Jason’s hand was shaking a little as he held the second piece of it in place even after the tape. He only let it go when Dick suddenly snapped back into reality and the franticness of that did nothing to quell the dread pooling in his stomach.

“Fuck off with that,” he said immediately, not for a second letting that thought linger. “Babs has got help on the way. Me and Steph aren’t accepting new members of the club right now, so you’re going to have to live. Admissions are closed.” Jason moved to get Dick leaning back against the front of the dumpster, even though that was a horrible place to be. He didn’t want to move him to find anywhere better. Dick: Even through the haze of the strange pinging in his head and the slow creep of pain, Dick noticed Jason's hand shaking. He did shift back to lean against the dumpster, but reached up to put his hand on Jason's arm before he could move back. Normally he would have said nothing, he would have let Jason have that peace of mind, but there was so much blood. It was getting harder to breathe and he felt as if his head were burning from the inside. The pain made him want to move, but he settled for twisting his fingers in Jason's jacket. "Don't do that."

He didn't want to die in front of Jason. The thought made him feel cold. But even his unwavering optimism couldn't deny the reality of what he was facing. This wasn't something he was guaranteed to survive, let alone walk away from unscathed. There were so many things he could say and even wanted to say, but he didn't want to wrap his head around it. He thought about his family and how their last memories of him were that disastrous dinner, he'd never have the chance to make it up to them. He thought about Slade and hated that he would prove his cynicism correct by dying here, like this, even though it was because of his own actions.

Jason was here, he claimed not to care about the past, but suddenly Dick had to make sure. He had to talk. "I wanted more time. With you. To be your brother." It was a strange way to word how he felt, but it was difficult to explain it properly. "Also, please don't let anyone put me in the Lazarus Pit." Jason: It was funny, in a way that wasn’t actually funny at all, that he’d seen so much death in his life but so little of it had been accompanied by the burden of actually saying goodbye to anyone. His father had died across the city. His mother had been gone by the time he was on the bathroom floor. It didn’t make them any less dead or make it less real, but he’d dealt mostly with the aftermath and not the process. There had been close calls and very near misses with other people, but none so close as a bullet to the head and blood in an alley.

Jason closed his eyes. He had to. He could feel the irritating burn of tears and he needed it to go the fuck away. “Come on, Dickie. You’re not leaving me here to deal with everyone’s dumb bullshit without you. I didn’t sign up for that. That’s your job.”

Life had never been fair. He’d learned that by the time he could walk and talk. Life was a bitch that you had to figure out how to survive and twist into something you could stand. He hadn’t always managed to do that, and he still wasn’t great at it, but it had felt like a few things were getting better, like he’d been able to right some of the wrongs that he’d held onto for so long. Unfair didn’t begin to cover it if it was just going to be over that fast. “I need you here,” he said without realizing it until the words were out, even though they’d barely been a whisper. They all did, but they weren’t all sitting there in a pool of Dick’s blood to say it. Just him. Dick: "You're better at it than you think." It didn't matter how many times he blinked. Jason was still blurry. Eventually Dick gave up trying to bring him into focus and kept his eyes closed. It made his head feel better and he could focus on staying conscious until the ambulance got there. It made him feel as if that gave him some control over the outcome of this, or at least gave him a better chance, because this wasn't how he wanted things to end. Not when he'd finally turned so many things around for the better. And not before he had time to repair the relationships he'd strained. Jason being left to handle Tim and Damian didn't alarm him, not really, because he knew that beyond Jason's hostility he still had the desire to connect with them. "They look up to you."

He heard the words beyond the roaring in his ears. Dick hadn't settled comfortably into the thought of death, but he'd recognized the very real possibility of it, but then... maybe he just wouldn't let it be an option. This was one more bullet he'd take and come back from. It might not bode well that it was a bullet to the head, but he could still feel all of his fingers and toes. He still knew his own name. He could still see, even if his vision was messed up. Jason should have found him already dead, but he didn't. If he were lucky enough to survive the initial shot, then he wasn't going to let himself die in an alleyway just because he got too complacent. "I'm here. I'm not giving up that easily." Dick wanted to smile, but he knew his mouth was full of blood and he could feel it moving down his throat. It wouldn't have the reassuring effect he wanted. "Just keep talking. About anything. Tell me something about you I don't already know." It was something he normally would have done, but he was finding it more difficult to keep his voice even. His body felt cold and even his voice shook from it. Every few seconds he thought he heard the ambulance in the distance, but it was that persistent ringing nose he couldn't get out of his head.

Jason: “Yeah well, they shouldn’t.” He didn’t elaborate. It wasn’t the moment for that. There had been times when he was willing to step in for the family, when he’d helped because they’d asked or needed it, but he was still struggling with the idea of being a more permanent part of it even if that had been kind of happening on its own. He didn’t want to really consider the idea of someone, least of all him trying to fill even half the role that Dick did. He’d spent so much of his life being resentful of it and it just wasn’t his to take. It wasn’t anyone’s.

The risk of Dick nodding off if they just sat there seemed too great, even as Jason struggled to think of one single thing to tell him. Something popped into his head in a few moments and he told the story before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. He’d thought about it a couple of other times, but there had never been a reason to bring it up.

“I saw you perform in the circus once. My dad lifted some tickets off a guy in the parking lot and got us in.” It was one of the few ‘normal’ memories that he had of Willis. What passed for normal, anyway. “I was probably six. I thought the animals would be the best part, but then you guys showed up. The Flying Graysons.” Jason swallowed and leaned back against the trashcan, listening for an ambulance he didn’t hear yet. “It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. I thought you...” he let out a short sigh, embarrassed to actually be admitting it after so long, “I wanted to be you so badly that night. I’d never been as happy as you looked.” Dick: Dick shook his head. "Doesn't matter." They would regardless. He wanted to tell Jason that it meant something that they looked up to him for who he was, rather than an image that didn't exist, a standard that was more competition than admiration, but he had a feeling it wouldn't make much of a difference. It was a burden that he understood. It had been on his shoulders because he knew, after what happened to Jason, that they would need someone who wasn't Bruce. Dick never set out to project some golden standard and he would have denied it, if confronted, because he placed value on authenticity. It didn't occur to him that not doing things or holding back parts of himself was creating a false image of perfection. He'd been so wrapped up in what he needed to do or give that it was automatic to breeze over everything with ease or nonchalance.

It took years and a chain of events for everything to break down. For him to get here. Now he was finally getting some sort of footing, even if it were shaky. Even though he heard Jason, it took longer than usual for him to understand what it was he was saying. When it started to sink in he quickly opened his eyes so he could try to look at him. He was still blurry, but it hadn't gotten worse. "You were at... Haly's?" It took a beat longer than it should for the word to come to him. He didn't like that, but he tried not to linger on it. If Jason were six, it meant he'd been eight. It couldn't have been long before the murders. Jason wanting to be him just because he'd been happy was devastating. "I was," he finally whispered. His lips felt wet and he reached up, confused to find a strange mixture of blood and tears. "I wish I could be him." Dick's voice was getting more slurred, but he still seemed determined to speak, to keep talking, "Now? You've been that happy. Haven't you?" Jason: Jason could tell that Dick was struggling to talk, even though he was still doing it, and he was genuinely afraid to look at him. He already knew what he was going to see. Sure enough, when he made himself turn his head, he saw the dark shadow of blood between his lips and the unnatural paleness of his face. The gauze he’d put against the bullet wound was so dark with blood that it looked almost the same shade as his hair. Jason curled his hand into a fist at his side, scraping his knuckles against the rough cement, and made himself keep talking.

“Yeah. Haly’s. The old man thought he did me a big favor with that one.” And he had, in his own fucked up way. The only reason Willis had to steal circus tickets, of all things, was to take Jason. He’d still been a drunk asshole, but not every minute of every day. “I...don’t know,” he admitted, a little surprised by his own answer. “Maybe.” He should probably know if the answer was yes, though, right? He should know if he’d been that happy. Every good thing in his life always seemed to be weighed down by something else, though, and it had always been that way. “You looked free,” he added. “I guess we both want to be him now. Don’t think I’d look good in the leotard though.” He didn’t laugh even as he made the joke. Dick: Free. It was an interesting word to use. If Dick were fully capable of analyzing it he would have, but it somehow meant something in a way he didn't have to fully understand. Not right now, at least. It mattered more than Jason was telling him this now when he hadn't ever said a word about it before. Dick had no idea that Jason saw him at the circus. None at all. It was almost a relief knowing that he'd seen him before the worst day of his life.

Even though he'd been happy since, there was no denying that he'd never been as happy as he was that day in the circus. That was a different world. And even though Jason's answer made him sad, he wasn't willing to believe that he couldn't be that happy one day. "When this is over, we should go." Haly's Circus was still around, but it was back east somewhere. Dick didn't keep up with them. It was easier to keep his distance. "Don't think we can be him," he said quietly. The ringing in his head was a low buzz, but the world was getting dimmer and he closed his eyes again. He didn't want to lose consciousness now. It felt too soon, like he wasn't done saying what he needed to say, but he was struggling to articulate it. "That's what I want. For you, I mean. To be happy. Free. Do whatever you need to do to get it." Jason: When this is over. Jason clung to that a little too hard. “Yeah...yeah, sure, we’ll go. Road trip.” He would have never agreed to it under any other circumstance, and if Dick remembered it when he recovered he was going to vehemently deny that it had ever been said. But for those first few months at Wayne Manor, he’d wanted a brother like that. A family like that. He’d never got it, none of them did. They got something else entirely, and a road trip meant fighting crime across borders.

He sat up straighter as he heard what he was positive was finally an ambulance. It was still a few blocks away, maybe it wasn’t even coming to them, but he was sure he heard it. “That’s a tall order, Grayson. Nobody’s free.” Least of all him. “I’ll work on the other one.” He was trying. He’d been trying for years to get to something besides just bitterness and anger. It wasn’t always successful, and usually when it was he found some way to sabotage it.

He could hear Dick’s words sort of slurring together. With his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, Jason reached out and put a hand on Dick’s shoulder to keep him sitting up. “Just a couple more minutes. Hang on.” Please. Dick: The agreement brought him an absurd amount of relief. Dick nodded, his grip on Jason's arm loosening even though he didn't release him completely. That tight grip was keeping him present and he needed it. He needed to stay present and not let himself get confused about where and when they were. Not again.

"Maybe not," he agreed, the heaviness in his tone more honest than it'd ever been. "But we can get close." He doubted he would ever be completely free. Part of him would always feel indebted to Bruce and the rest of his family, at least in some small ways, and that was a connection he wouldn't willingly sever even for his own sake. That Jason was willing to try and be happy was what he needed to hear and he nodded, slumping against the dumpster and finally letting himself relax. In the distance he thought he heard an ambulance, but he wasn't sure.

Jason's hand on his shoulder kept him upright. Dick took a shallow breath and heard it rattle in his throat. "Please don't go." It was a struggle to get the words out and he knew they were selfish, but he couldn't help the request and it came from somewhere deep, unconscious, and his fingers twisted in Jason's sleeve as if he needed reminding that he was still there. Jason: He’d had to stamp down the urge to try again and stop the bleeding himself. There was nothing he could do, physically, and even though he knew that it was hard not to sit there and think that Dick was dying right next to him and he wasn’t trying to do more, find some way to make it better even if that was impossible. It seemed like keeping him awake was more important.

“Maybe we can.” He didn’t believe it. The second they’d put on the Robin suit, the very instant they’d let themselves become part of Bruce’s life and Batman’s ‘legacy,’ they’d thrown out freedom. It was the price paid. Freedom came with not knowing how ugly all the ugly parts of the world really were. Jason had never had that and Dick had lost it. There wasn’t any going back.

He fought not to close his eyes again. The idea of opening them to see Dick having faded away was too much. “Still right here,” he muttered. He moved his other hand on top of Dick’s, trying to ignore the fact that both of them had blood on them. It was impossible not to.

The ambulance sirens were closer. Jason heard them one street over, but couldn’t see the lights yet. He was going to have to get up so they could find them and know where to go, but he’d wait those last few moments. Dick: Even though part of him knew Jason was right, knew everything changed for them the day they donned the mantle of Robin, Dick still wanted to believe that their future was more malleable. He didn't want to be held down by the past. It was one thing that might make him different than the others: his unwavering belief that things could be better, even when they were at their most dire.

Like right now. Part of him knew that he was hovering at a dangerous level, right on the edge of something - and he didn't know what that something was, but he was trying to resist the pull to give into it. It would be easier to let himself fade into unconsciousness. There was almost a comfort in not feeling any more pain.

He thought he heard the ambulance, but he wasn't sure and it wasn't worth ruining the moment to ask. His grip on Jason's hand tightened, almost desperately, and he was barely aware of the other intruding voices once the EMS crew arrived and took over. He didn't want to lose the grip he had on Jason's hand, or arm, or whatever he could touch that was concrete and kept him in the present. The second he was pulled away and the contact was lost, he gave into the cool, comforting blackness, even though he didn't see it as giving it. It was simply the respite he needed before he returned full force to fight.

#c: discord #dick grayson #jason todd #injury tw #blood tw #death mention tw

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cleverbxrd · 4 years

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What Were You Expecting?

WHO: Dick Grayson / @cxrcusbxrd , Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd / @rxdshood , Ra’s al Ghul MENTIONED: Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Talia al Ghul WORD COUNT: 4,141 LOCATION: Ra’s’ current evil hidey-hole THE BASICS: Two Birds (and a Bat) walk into a secret League of Assassins base... TW: Comic/Action Movie Level Violence, Slight Trauma, Injury, Murderous Intent, Past Death Mention, Deus Ex Grayson

DICK: None of this was easy. Nothing about having to rescue a member of their family, their little dysfunctional clan, was remotely easy. It had taken them this long to even find out a possible place where Tim had been taken to, and even then something felt very off. Maybe it was uncharted territory, maybe it was the fact that he'd told Jason to lead the charge alone, call him over com if he couldn't find anything. The seconds were ticking away, and he wasn't keeping as strict a timer as he felt he should. Nightwing was currently on lookout duty, guarding their secretly made entryway into the compound, looking out for what he could only assume were ninja, assassins, that Ra's had employed on monitor duty. No one in or out, sounded on par. Luckily he hadn't run into anyone he needed to crack the skulls of, but even that put him on edge. It was like the Demon's Head was just waiting for them. If Steph hadn't been enough of a warning, this eerie silence while he waited for his younger brother's call... Ah Hell, Jason wasn't going to get back to him, not like this. Guy was probably looking for the source. Who could blame him? They were all reckless, very much to their own faults. If they wanted to be smart about this, though, they couldn't take the direct path to the one who started it all. Maybe a crash-course in their strategy would've been effective. Dick had to stop himself in his mental tracks. Relinquishing lead was hard, but he trusted Jason, trusted his instincts. They'd both been trained by the same guy... So why was he so damn nervous?

Maybe it was the fact that he felt someone's eyes on him in the fraction of a second he'd had a momentary panic about weather or not they were approaching this entire situation correctly (and really, who's going to say if it was right or wrong? Sometimes you have to call a shit-ton of audibles). Dick's white-lensed eyes squinted into the darkness, a hairline trigger activating infrared to see if he could really find who he was sure was watching him, watching them. It didn't take long before he reached behind his shoulders to pull the electrified escrima sticks from his back, settling into an all too familiar low defensive stance. If there was one thing he was sure of he wasn't going to take this impromptu mission any less seriously than his more 'normal', less paranoia-inducing ones. I'm getting my brother back.

"I know you're out there," He finally called out, the weapons crackling to life with charged light, just barely illuminating the small area that he stood his ground. "Show yourself!"

BRUCE: The boys were doing what the boys did, ignore his orders and get themselves into trouble. It was an old song and dance by now, one he had hoped they already knew the steps to, though he supposed that their urgency, their panic, blinded them to the inevitability of it all.

Did they truly think they would go on a rescue mission without him finding out? That he would really allow them to charge headfirst into Ra’s hands without him having a say in it? He didn’t know if that reflected poorly on him or proved that as grown as they were his sons were all still boys in the end.

Bruce perched atop the roof, his brow furrowed underneath his cowl as his planted device hummed, an EMP knocking out the motion sensors throughout the grounds before the bat took a running leap to glide closer to his target, Dick.

He landed with a dull thud, his jaw clenched as he stood to his full height.

“You’re jumpy,” Bruce said simply, his attention turning to the ‘Thwip’ of two guards being lifted and secured behind Dick’s back, “and sloppy. I was under the impression you two were conducting a stealth mission.”

DICK: Ah. Shit.

Hi dad. Er, second dad. The dad that didn't bother to adopt him officially until he'd been well past Ward status.

Still, the familiar sight of a bat-eared cowl did nothing to prevent the squinted lenses from narrowing further, the stance he'd taken relaxing only a fraction. He was still on edge, still on high alert. Bruce was good, as he always was, and caught him off guard. Sloppy.

He didn't need to be told twice, less-than-happy flashbacks of hours on hours of training popping in and out of subconsious memory... this wasn't the time to be reminiscing on weather or not you actually wanted to give the old man the argument of a lifetime.

"It was," Nightwing sighed, absently twirling one of the lightened sticks in his hand. "But something tells me it's a bit hard to be stealthy against literal ninja." Assassins, same difference. Squaring his blue-lined shoulders, the former sidekick faced his mentor with a grimace. "How the hell did you find us, Bruce?"

BRUCE: Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes at Dick's tense posture. He was glad he was on guard, they always had to be in these situations, but a bigger part of him wanted to scold him for following Jason into this suicide mission without backup, without him.

Tim was his ward, his robin, his son. He needed to be here.

For more reason than one, given the boys lack of forethought.

He simply hummed in acknowledgement. He could dissect their plan at a later date. Tonight was about getting their boy back.

"There are trackers imbedded into the fabric of your suit." He answered plainly. Dick didn't need to know about the trackers he had on Jason, nor the ones he had in the very sticks he held in his hands. A bat needed some secrets, after all.

"Come on, there are guards to the north that we need to clear out for our escape route."

DICK: Maybe it was the fact that he'd been on edge ever since Tim had gone missing without a trace. Maybe it was years of pent up aggression that he'd never fully let himself come to term with. Maybe it was the fact that he was still being treated like a sidekick. There were reasons Dick had made the jump to Bludhaven, then New York; He had to get out of The Shadow. Easier said than done, apparently

"Track-?" The hushed word fell short as his eyes suddenly went wide, looking down at the no-doubt invisibly weaved nanotech. God damnit, Bruce. "... You..." Seething, he hissed through clenched teeth instead of finding the right word. Of course he would've slipped up on that minor detail in his blind rage, the sudden need he had to bring his brother out here and bring Ra's to justice. No doubt, he was getting a full mission report after this, as if it wasn't his own, Jason's own, mission to carry out.

Still... Having one of the best in the biz probably wasn't the worst thing in the world. With the Batman, this mission could take less time than he was sure it would've taken them. Hell, he hadn't heard the signal yet. With a bit of time, he was sure he'd hear that familiar tweet. He really hoped so anyway.

"Fine," Nightwing huffed, semi-reluctantly dropping his head. "You'd better be prepared. This creep's been waiting for this for ages."

~~~

JASON: There was something unnerving about any and all League bases to Jason. It made his skin crawl and feel the urge to turn tail and run as fast as he could away. A child turned into a weapon, blood staining hands that couldn't be washed away now. Some for people deserving of it, some for those perhaps that didn't, but it was too late to try to attempt to feel remorse now. If he even did at all. It was apart of him now, a way of life he had come to accept and wasn't something he shied away from. Memories from this part of his life were broken at best, flashes of memories he could vaguely recall. Hands around the throat of someone he had been ordered to kill, the offense unclear, but the order firm, the anxiety bubbling up. Too intimate, too much, too close. Finishing the job and resolutely deciding silently from then on killing from a distance was mandatory. Maybe there was some psychology behind Jason's decision to choose guns as his primary choice of a weapon, but that wasn't something he ever really wanted to get into.

For now, Jason had to push away the anxiety and insistent jagged memories to push forward, steel himself to do what he came to do. Save Tim, bring Tim home. Dick had told him to lead the charge, be the leader for once. Jason hadn't really known what to do with that other than take the reigns and push forward, take the information they knew and act. It had been long enough, far too long, and they were getting their little brother back.

Things were quiet. Too quiet. It only added to the anxiety that stayed firmly building in Jason's chest he refused to show, thankful for the helmet that hid any and all facial expressions that might slip through the ever so diligent Bat training. Winding halls and diverting from any potential hiccups. Naturally, a few heads were knocked together, silencer on his gun as he shot to take incapacitate—not kill. No matter how much he wanted to put the bullet through the assassins' eyes rather than a knee.

Inching further along, Jason got to where he intended. Not Tim, no. Ra's al Ghul. "Love what you've done with the place, Ra's. A lot more spooky chic than you had before. I'm sure Talia would hate it." The younger man hummed, a few quick shots sending the remaining assassins in the room sprawling out on the floor. "Don't worry, nothing a few surgeries can't do to fix them right up. Or do you prefer to put them down? Memory's a bit spotty from when I was here last time." He sneered under the helmet, gun trained on the man in question now—though silently he was unsure if this was a genius plan or completely idiotic. Probably the latter.

"My brother. I want him back. I'm not leaving without him."

RA’S: Ra's was no fool. He hadn't expected the Bat clan to simply roll over and accept that Timothy was out of their reach now. Many of Bruce Wayne's children had ended up under Ra's care over the years, before or after meeting the billionaire: Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra.

One would think that eventually, Bruce would get better at keeping them out of his hands. But getting to Tim had been easy.

Keeping him was bound to be a bit trickier, so Ra's had called in some reinforcements. One could never be too careful. Loading the board visibly wouldn't be much of a deterrent but would show his hand, so instead Ra's had kept the halls of this hideaway under their normal guard--at least, as far as could be seen. Timothy was locked away deeper into the complex , accompanied by a handful of men under orders to put a bullet in the boy's head before letting him be taken back.

He'd never professed not to be possessive.

Jason came charging into the chamber where Ra's was waiting, and the ancient assassin didn't even blink as his men dropped with groans around him. Nor was he particularly bothered by having a gun leveled at his face.

"Well, since you're asking--yes, I would prefer you aim for their heads in the future. Saves me the work," Ra's answered calmly, taking a step in Jason's direction. The man's demand earned an amused scoff. "Ah. Well, then, I'm afraid you won't be leaving. Timothy will be staying with me. You're welcome to request visits." Ra's smiled, icily. "I do so miss having you around, al'ahmar. You were very entertaining." Ra's reached up to his own throat, unclasping his cape and laying it over a chaise in passing.

"Now, where is your father? I do prefer dealing with the one in charge. Smoothes the process. And I know they didn't trust you to run it, not their little stray bird."

Ra's smirked. "Did Grayson tell you, by the way? That you and dear Timothy have a new shared experience?"

JASON: Jason always could feel the oncomings of his pit rage. It had taken a good few years to be able to do just that. At first, it was uncontrollable. He lashed out at so many of the men that worked for Talia and destroyed a hotel room once in a fit of rage upon finding out he had been replaced. Now his said replacement was someone he considered his little brother and wouldn't be leaving without. If he wouldn't be leaving then so be it. As long as Tim left.

Jason snarled under the helmet and could feel the haze creeping forward in his head, if his eyes were visible he was sure they'd flash an even more eery shade of green than they had been changed to from the pit effects. Every word that left Ra's mouth only fueled and poked at the fire. "He's not my father," a reflect, venom dripping from the four words. "You get me. No big bat or other birds to play babysitter. I don't do so well without supervision, I hear."

Jason didn't see red. No, he saw green, and in an instant he surged forward and whipped the gun across the older man's face. He shoved it back into his thigh holster as his other gloved hand closed around Ra's throat. He wanted his blood to paint the walls, to see him choke on his own blood and die slowly. The urge to do what he could to finish him clawed at his chest violently. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking watch you choke on your blood and step on your throat to make it even more agonizing. To put you in a fucking body bag would be a goddamn dream come true!"

RA'S: Jason was so very easy to get under the skin of. He had died scared and angry and came back scared and angrier, the former beaten out until all that was left was rage. Ra's knew better than anyone else on Earth what the Pit could do to the mind, the way its haze could seep through the mind and obscure all but the urge to tear people apart. He'd had centuries to adjust.

Jason had not--he was a constantly ticking time bomb. And Ra's enjoyed prodding at him to set him off. "Oh, my. You still hold a grudge about being replaced, and yet you're here to retrieve your replacement. Interesting choice. But then, you never were the bright one."

It was, of course, the mention of what he'd done to Timothy that set the man off fully, and even Ra's had to concede that Jason was fast. The blow to the face stung, but Jason shoved his gun away as quickly as it'd come out, opting for more up-close fighting.

Poor choice.

Ra's let the man tighten his grip, brought both arms up between them so his forearms were against the man's shoulders, and then hooked his leg around Jason's and pushed, sending them both to the ground.

He snapped an arm up to deliver a sharp elbow to the chin, and then used the momentum to snap the same arm back against the one with the grip on his throat, hitting the crook of Jason's elbow to loosen his hold.

"You know better than to think you can beat me, let alone kill me, al'ahmar. But I won't deny the pleasure of a fight if that's what you insist on--it'd bring me no greater pleasure than to have Bruce Wayne know that I took you from him again. One more dip in the Pit, and maybe the madness doesn't stay back." His own eyes flared with that poisonous shade of green.

"You won't kill me, even if you could. He'd be dead before you ever got your hands on him."

JASON: Jason's head jerked up and he tasted blood immediately, likely from biting down on his tongue. The minor pain was nothing compared to the burn that was spreading through him as he fell into his Pit induced rage. His arm buckled, fingers loosening around Ra's' throat. That only served to piss him off further. He was literally rolling in the dirt with Ra's al Ghul. His life was a joke, but whatever the cost. He'd get Tim out of this. Even if he didn't—

"I didn't know you were in the business of making balloon animals now, al Ghul. You're taking credit for a clown's handiwork. Do you prefer Boo Boo the Fool or Chuckles?" Jason spat out through the voice modulator of his helmet, bringing a knee up to connect with any body part he could reach, gain some traction. Maybe he wasn't the best at hand to hand combat compared to the other birds, but he wasn't bad at it by any means. He also had size on his side, more muscles and height than the others did to use to his advantage.

The hand that loosened from Ra's throat snapped up to shove palm up at his nose hard and fast, disorient him any way he could. "Maybe I won't, but I do know I'll make it hurt like hell before you can even think to get your grubby paws on him again. Where do you prefer your stab wounds? You know what? I'll surprise you!" In the scuffle of their bodies, Jason whipped his knife out of his belt and slashed at his torso.

RA'S: A clown? Really. Ra's felt his anger ratchet up another notch at the mockery, hissing out between his teeth as Jason's knee collided with his ribs. The younger man wasn't much for technique, but he was strongly built, and even stronger when the Pit started pressing its way forward. Ra's could take blows from your average man with barely a shrug, but Jason, despite not being particularly skilled as Grayson and Damian were, could land some stinging blows.

"He put you down the first time," Ra's grunted, just barely managing to avoid the blow at his nose, "but I'll be happy to do it the second go round. But I took you from Bruce in the ways that matter, didn't I? Seeing you dead was one thing, seeing you a killer was another. Does he still look at you like you're someone else?"

Jason's threats were nothing. What was pain to a man who'd lived as many lifetimes as Ra's, who'd been hurt and killed and brought back more times than he cared to count? Ra's would always come back. Jason Todd would die and stay dead the next time he went down. Jason grabbed at a knife, swiped at his side, and the blade sliced through cloth and skin like it was so much paper, even as Ra's started to roll off the man. The ancient assassin snarled, and drew a dagger of his own as he got to his feet, ignoring the crimson that started to paint the side of his robes. His own eyes were the same poisonous green as Jason's now, the Pit rearing to the forefront at the drawing of blood. "The only one who can set your brother free is me, Todd. My men will end his life before you get a foot through the door if I don't give the order. And you think you can make me? You're even stupider than I gave you credit for."

JASON: The younger man was entirely too thrilled in seeing the old man get irritated by his poking and prodding. Jason knew one of his assets was his ability to piss people off purely by speaking. Maybe it was reckless to get the already rage filled man angry, but it was his job after all. He was only doing what he was supposed to, lead the charge. If that had some consequences...oh well. At least they'd be getting Tim back. He wasn't leaving until they did.

The words had Jason biting his tongue, the blow landing as he was sure it was intended. He practically snarled. "What can I say? I've always been the black sheep of the family. Even before the whole 'Jason, this isn't the way!' shtick he was on." He pushed himself to his feet and flipped his knife in his hand, letting out a pleased chuckle to see the red staining the assassin's robes. "I'm sure you can get that out with a little scrubbing. Nothing a little elbow grease can't do. You do know how to do that, right? Manual labor?" Even with the helmet, he was visibly bored. He was angry, but then again, he was always angry. He was good at putting a front, lying was easy, especially for a bat. Might as well poke and prod some more while he was at it.

The stupid remark made Jason's jaw tic and he only laughed. "I didn't need to make you do anything, al Ghul. I just had to distract you." There was a pause and Jason let out a Robin call, the signal to Dick. The signal all Robins knew. "How's it feel being played by someone you think is stupid?" He sneered and immediately pushed forward, slashing out with his knife once more.

RA'S: The jab seemed to land as intended, judging by the moment of silence that preceded the sharp-toned reply lobbed his way. It had never been hard to get under Jason's skin, and it certainly wasn't hard now that the Pit ran through his veins.

Unfortunately, that same Pit had amped up Jason's speed, too. Ra's glowered at the taunts. "Don't you condescend to me, boy. You know nothing of work." Ra's took a step closer, feinted for a stab at the man's side before swiping for his throat beneath the helmet.

I just had to distract you. Ra's eyes narrowed for a moment before he recognized what the call was, and then he sneered, retreating back as his gaze flicked around the room for evidence of the imminent arrival of the rest of the little flock. "Needed a babysitter after all, did we, Todd? Wise of them not to trust you to manage this yourself. Now why don't you go run along while I deal with the grown ups, hm?"

DICK: "Who're you calling grown up?"

The quip was too easy to let loose, even though every bone in his body refused to add any humor behind it. The blue bird stood just behind Jason, hidden partially in the shadows while he approached the apparently on-going fight. He was putting a stop to that, stopping the recklessness of his younger brother... From doing exactly what he would be doing too. "You're pretty twisted if you think both of us wouldn't come for Tim, Ra's." Not to mention the big bad Bat doing all the hard work in the background. Granted, he'd upped security tenfold for this kind of invasion. Clearly, they didn't keep quiet about their invasion. That would be something they'd be scolded for later... Well, himself, mostly. Just one look out of the corner of his eye looked like Jason would be laid up in Alfred's infirmary for a bit... And he didn't even want to think about how bad Tim had it.

"Don't even think about following me," Dick sneered, the white lenses of his mask thinning in his hard squint, moving to hook an arm quickly around the back of Jason's shoulders, attempting to not topple over from the sudden transfer of weight. He was hit that was for sure now. He didn't have time to assess, but they needed to get back to Gotham stat. The glowing stick in one hand, he tapped the non-electrified end against his hip, two black marbles bouncing onto the floor. Without looking down, the vigilante placed his heel on top of the two, drawing his teeth back in a final animalistic sneer. "And don't fuck with my family."

Just the barest transfer of weight had the two spheres busting open under his foot, thick smoke filling the area where the two Robins once stood. Dick was sure this was one of the oldest 'ninja' tricks in the book, that they'd be easily tracked, but that would have to wait for worrying later. It took adrenaline and effort, but he was running with the intent to save. This time, he wouldn't be stopped.

No Robins left behind, he thought, breaching through to the rendezvous point, nearly letting tears loose when he saw the other retrieved bird being hoisted into transport. Never again.

#discord tag tbd

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