Tell me what happened to you.
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An eight year old Jason Todd opened the door to find his mother, once again, on the couch and completely out of it. She said something to him, after he'd slammed the door behind him, dragging his backpack on the floor as he approached the kitchen area of his dirty apartment. He couldn't understand her; he hadn't been able to understand her for the past few days, but that was nothing new. Mommy just needed her medicine, was how she explained it. She was just so sad that Daddy was gone. Something about his boss being two faced and the jobs getting harder.
Jason was too young to understand it then. He had taken it at her word.
But, he missed his dad, and he knew something was wrong. All the other kids didn't seem to have families like his; they had parents that didn't need all the medicine, had parents that didn't slur their speech or move like rag dolls controlled by girls with no sense of anatomy. He didn't question it, though. He just thought it would've been so much nicer to have Bobby's parents or stay at school longer. And he had been doing those things lately, even. His apartment didn't really have any food in it; he was eating meals with friends who he didn't know secretly pitied him.
Jason was starting to miss his mom though, as out of it as she was, and after seeing she had forgotten to go grocery shopping yet again, he left his bag on the floor in the midst of a pile of food trash and walked over to his mom. She reached out to him then, but her arm was floppy.
He took her hand in his and blinked, watching her eyes roll up into her head.
"Mom, can we go out and get ice cream?"
He didn't really want ice cream. He wanted his mom back. Just to spend some time with her would be nice. He missed dad, too. Dad was always the one to give him more of the attention. But he still couldn't cut off his soft spot for his mother.
"When is dad coming back?"
His mom's face was pale, and only getting whiter. She slurred something, seemingly slightly angry, and waved her arm around haphazardly a bit. In his mind, he imagined she said he isn't coming back, and that made Jason cry.
The next days came quickly. He had gone to school for a few of them, he didn't know how long, but the state of his clothes were taken note of, and the teacher complained about not being able to get in touch with his mom. Mom never left the couch or said anything again, and she was starting to smell. His friends were getting tired of having him over all the time, so he started "camping" outside.
The landlord came to throw them out one day, but after some yelling, he called the cops. It was another whirlwind of action by that point, and he didn't remember much. He was told mom and dad were never going to return, and he was the state's problem now.
Death was briefly explained to him, but the concept didn't really cement into his brain until much later.
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It was explained that some billionaire woman had taken pity on him, and he wouldn't have to bounce from foster home to foster home anymore. Not that it truly mattered, as for the past year and a half he'd run from them all and spent most his time on the street. He'd become hardened and full of rage by that time. Life had not treated him kindly and his veil of ignorance to the world had been violently lifted in his short time on Earth.
This "Belinda Wayne" had decided to financially adopt him in some capacity, and shoved him off to a boarding school so he wouldn't live a life of crime. Except, the school was meant to foster exactly that. He was in Ma Guns' School. For Crime. He had a love/hate relationship with it. The structure was necessary and helpful in a way, but the abuse and emotional trauma got to be too much for him. Maybe, in an alternate universe, he would've been a caring person. But instead, he perfected the art of not giving a shit about anything. He turned himself off, burrowed all his feelings deep. Maybe, in some way, he was trying to kill himself by taking on riskier and riskier projects. One of those was messing with the Bat.
It was Crime Alley. She wasn't around, but her batmobile was. He didn't really need a tire but he happened to have a tire iron in his hand. It just seemed like Fate was saying something to him. Well, no, not really. He wasn't doing much thinking back in those days. He just had the tools and the time so he did it. He stole the batmobile's tire. Why? Who knew. Maybe because he could? He wanted Lady Bat to do something? He wanted a big stroke to his ego? Maybe he wanted to take it to Ma and get a good pat on the back and some infamy. He'd been climbing the ranks pretty fast lately.
But Lady Bat came back just as he was on his way out. He'd removed the tire from the vehicle but had yet to totally leave the premises.
Lady Bat didn't do anything to him though.
Nothing that he expected, anyway....
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Lady Bat had taken him in. And as it turned out, she and that Billionaire Wayne woman were one and the same. She found out about Ma Guns and shut her down, pulled Jason out, and took Jason Todd on as her second ward. It took about a year to get Bel to let him wear the Robin suit. He had to curb a lot of his rage, learn to feel things again. He knew from the beginning he was the black sheep of this family. Even though she had another adopted son, Dick, he was totally different from Jason. Nobody really understood him, but he couldn't be too surprised about it, because he didn't understand himself either.
Regardless, he did become Robin, although he and the Bat were butting heads. He was never as easy as Dick and he didn't want to be. He didn't think her "no kill" rule was smart and he didn't have any sympathy for the criminals. Criminals had ruined his life, and although he knew the backgrounds of both Bel and Dick, he somehow felt like his situation involved much more life ruin. He learned what had happened to his mom, and his father, and he was taking out his lost childhood on the criminals. It was all their fault.
But one criminal in particular eluded all of them. The Joker. Jason knew it infuriated Bel, but he also knew she kept letting him escape. Over and over. He couldn't help but agree with madman on more than some occasions - although he never voiced it to BatMom. He was determined, one day, to take out the Joker. Both for himself and for Belinda. He tortured them all, and that said nothing to how he treated the rest of the world.
The Joker would die, and it'd be his own private, secret, goal. He could save himself, Gotham, the world, and both of his families just by offing one guy. He didn't know how he'd do it. But he knew he would. One day.
"I get it. He's a total nut bar." he remembered, arguing with Lady Bat once again. Maybe she was beginning to identify what some of his rage had been focused toward, lately. He hadn't really figured her out, yet. He thought he knew her. He was pretty sure he knew Lady Bat. But sometimes Momma Bel would come out and it'd be from left field.
"No," she commanded. "Do
not treat this lightly, and don't write him off as simply being insane. It's not that simple.
He's
not like the others.
He has no
code. No methodology. No
goals.
You can't hope to understand him because his desires are fluid. They
change.
He can't be predicted. He can't be reasoned with."
Her fingers stopped, hands resting lightly on the keyboard of the batcomputer. She looked down at her gauntlets.
"And if you're careless..."
She turned around, facing Jason, her Bat Cowl still on, but her glare piercing through the lenses regardless.
"... you will die. Do
you understand?"
Yeah, yeah. He'd thought.
But now?
Now, he
did understand.
He understood far too well.
And he wouldn't make the same mistake. He couldn't.
Because on that night, he died.
By the Joker's hand.
He got cocky, but his life ended and he was scared. And alone.
He wouldn't make the same mistake again.
But.
Bel was wrong.
Because the Joker
can, in fact, be predictable.
So could everybody.
To an extent.
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He remembered digging out of his own grave. Physically, cathartically, ripping open the casket and piercing through the dirt with his fingers. Sucking in his first breath of fresh air. Crawling out of the pit.
But it was a false memory. Or perhaps a dream? A dream he relived close ot every night for the first year. It was relieving. But also horrific. Scary, but comforting. A confounding mix of emotions, a metaphor for himself.
But it was wrong.
Ra's Al Ghul had taken his body from Bosnia and revived him in the Pit. Apparently he'd run off in a crazed state. Naked, to never be seen again. Jason didn't remember any of it, but Talia had explained it to him. Unlike her father, she kept searching. And she did eventually find him. She gave him an apartment. A bunch of money. Love.
Jason was confused by it all.
But he eventually put it together. He figured, she really loved Belinda. But since she couldn't have Bel, she'd somehow misplaced all her feelings into him. Despite its queerness, it ultimately helped him. His memory was in shambles when Talia found him. His muscle memory, however, was on point. His body was still in pretty stellar shape, and apparently he'd been wandering the streets and beating the crap out of people to survive.
Everything came back slowly, but he still remembered the grave dream vividly. He always had wondered what it meant.
Talia had explained to him who he really was, but it hadn't clicked yet. He was a Robin, trained by Lady Bat. He fought crime in Gotham.
He started reading Gotham newspapers. She thought maybe they'd help him remember.
And one day.
They did.
Lady Bat Returns Joker To Police Custody
Everything came back.
Including the
rage.
He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill
her. How could she?
He
died and she let that motherfucker
live? He went back to the Asylum? Only to escape, again and again, hurting more people, hurting
him, leaving him... to die in vain?
Talia tried to stall him. She said he couldn't go out in his condition. She said he should train before he went on his mission.
She was right.
He'd only figured out she was stalling him later, but, ultimately, she was right. He needed to train.
So he took her money, and he went around the world, paying exorbitant funds to criminal tutors. Lady Bat had taught him a lot.
Robin was good.
But Jason Todd?
He was going to be
better.
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Prague. He'd been training under a Russian Mercenary by the name of Egon. In six months, he'd unwritten all the rules of pulling punches Bel had ingrained in him and was now able to quickly and succinctly kill. Six months on hand to hand and six months on firearms. He was a living, breathing, armory. He was consumed in his personal advancement and lost sight of his goal.
"What's your story, American?"
They were walking down the compound in heavy snow, sharing a cigar between eachother to help pass the time.
"How does kid have enough money to buy time with Egon? You rich man's son? Or you got, what's the word? Sponsor?"
Jason shrugged, pulling the red hood of his hoodie tighter over his face as he took a puff of the cigar.
"Ja, Okay, you have secrets. But listen. You have
skills. You're
good. We've been talking."
Jason turned, handing the cigar back and giving his mentor a quizzical look.
"We?"
"Me and the others. We who work for Egon. You should think about taking some work." He took the cigar from Jason's hand.
"we have jobs where we could use you." He took puff and blew the smoke out, it drifting quickly in the winter wind.
"Money is good. Even for you."
That was right before some asshole popped out of nowhere and curbstomped Egon's head in. Jason had heard him coming, but knew it wasn't for him so stepped back and watched it happen.
Once Egon's brains were firmly spread across the once-white ground and the stranger's boot, he turned to Jason.
"You will have to forgive me. Some of my men will forget on occasion to refrain from...
Discussions. Jan will take you back to your room."
The job turned out to be transferring child sex slaves. His curiosity got the better of him and he checked it out, himself. He became familiar again with the type of people he was takign tutelage from. His sense of justice came back. He remembered his goals.
And he blew the shit up out of that place.
Coincidentally? His next steps in his new, evolved, training plan, were explosives experts and pilots.
And he'd blow the shit up out of them once he found out what they were doing on the side, too.
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England. "This is becoming quite the habit of yours," Talia mocked, a finger rimming the glass of her wine.
"What is?"
"Your 'investigations.' A pattern has formed.
I assist you in acquiring 'teachers', who possess very dangerous skills that I hope for you to cultivate and expand your repertoire... And then they end up dead."
She looked up, her long brown hair accentuating her face as she smiled. "I know it's not because you're covering your tracks."
Jason glared at the woman and hunched forward over the table they shared.
"It's not without reason. The surveillance expert was a pedophile. The small arms guy ran a smack ring, and half of it was poison. The bomber was going to start a war on terrorism. The mercs in Somalia started a civil war over a petty rivalry that only ended up getting boy soldiers killed. Nearly thirty a week before--"
"Before
you stopped them. Right." She tipped her wine glass and peered into it through lowered, long eyelashes.
"I know," she sighed, righting the glass. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just pointing out the obvious. Seems like your road to revenge has been belayed by a revisit to an old interest..."
Jason slapped a hand on the wooden table.
"I'm not like her. At best, she would have put these dirtbags in jail. They're wrong. And I'm putting them down."
"Jason..." Talia exhaled, turning her head slightly before grabbing a folder from her satchel.
"I have new business. I... I have to show you something."
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Gotham.
He managed to hold himself back. Did a lot of introspection. At first, he'd set out to kill Lady Bat. But in order to do that: surveillance.
And in several months of it, he came to the conclusion that killing her wasn't enough. In fact, no, it might've been too easy. He couldn't let her off like that. She needed to know
why.
So, at some point, he'd concentrated not on her and killing her, but getting the Joker instead. His private, secret, childish goal, but now motivated for entirely different reasons. With his new knowledge and skills, his new life (and death) experiences, he had the whole picture. And he could use that to get what he truly wanted.
Approach it from an entirely different angle.
He's save the city. In his own way. And in the process, he'd fuck over every criminal in Gotham, including the Joker.
He'd get retribution for his death.
And if he failed? Well, he'd just die again.
And it's not like that scared him.
He'd already done that once.
The Joker was back in Arkham Asylum again. He briefly thought about breaking out the psycho himself, but going through several possible outcomes, all of them didn't allow him enough time with the man before Lady Bat would be alerted. There was too much risk involved.
So he went through the catalog of demons Lady Bat still had affairs with on the outside, and one of them could make his dream a reality.
Not through brute forcing it, or even through smarts, but the one thing that brought all of Gotham together: money.
Black Mask had the means to bribe the guards and get the Joker out. And he was easy to manipulate.
And dumb enough to work with the Joker when he was mad.
So what would Jason do?
Make him mad.
Get him to hire the Joker.
All the while, fucking with Lady Bat's head.
And then, when the Joker was out, and Bats was whirling in her emotional circles, he could work his own magic. Get his own justice.
Make Gotham great again.
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Lady Bat stepped forward.
"Tell me what happened to you."
Where to begin? He thought.
"Let me help you."
Jason looked down at his feet, his helmet thankfully covering up the water welling up in his eyes.
Let me help you.
Did he even want help? Did he need it?
He thought back to everything he'd done. Bel certainly had the means to help him. But look at her track record.
She set him up for failure when he was a kid. Ma Guns?
Robin? Joker?
Sure, she believed in rehabilitation. She wanted all criminals to be rehabilitated.
But look at where they all ended up.
Back on the streets.
Still committing crime.
And ever present cycle of events.
An ouroboros.
Still.
Even with her spectacular resume of failure.
He considered it.
He really did.
But.
No.
Remember the Joker.
Remember his goals.
Remember Justice.
He wouldn't let himself lose sight again.
No.
He lifted his head and glared at her.
"No. You had your chance."
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a smoke grenade, weakly dropping it on the ground after pulling the pin.
"And I'm just getting started, Bat."
Once the smoke filled the area, he made his quick exit, climbing back to his bike and the overpass as quickly as possible, and running off.
Smoke never lasted long, and given Lady Bat's familiarity with it, his time to escape was even shorter than normal.
But he'd make do.
Like he always did.
His plan was still in motion.
He knew what Black Mask's next step would be.
Joker would be
his.
Justice... Would be his.
He'd save this town.
He'd make it great.
He could turn shit into diamonds.
All this town ever was was shit, but he'd risen above.
And he'd make every effort to do what Lady Bat never could.
Because, unlike her, even when he'd been shit on for his whole life.
He still saw the possibility for the world to be good.
And, unlike the Bat,
he wasn't afraid to get a little more shitty in order to create that good.
He didn't let Death rule him.
He'd beaten it once before.
It kind of loses its intimidating finality after that.