Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You need to come stay at the manor.”

Jason blinks.  Bruce has always been brash, but he normally doesn't skip the standard ‘hello, Jason,’ that normal calling etiquette expects.  Never mind that he didn’t even give Jason a chance to say anything when he picked up the call.  “Hi Bruce,” Jason answers, deciding to lead by example.  And if it sounds a little mocking, well, it's not like Bruce is ever going to call him on it.  “No, I don't,” he continues in answer to the demand.  “Any other orders you wanna bark at me that I can ignore?”

“Jason, this is serious.”

“Yeah.  That's why it prompted my super serious answer,” Jason returns.  “Anything else?  Or can I go now?”

“There's a hit out for you,” Bruce snaps back.

“Oh, is it Tuesday already?” Jason answers.  He continues over Bruce's growl.  “There's always a hit out for me.  It's nothing to-”

“The contract’s for seven million.”

Huh.  Well, that is a lot. 

Also kind of weird, given that he hasn't pissed off any rich people lately.  Unless he counts Bruce. 

Jason smirks.  “Be honest with me.  Are you the one who put up the contract?”

“Jason!” Bruce yells back, and Jason can't help but flinch because that is anger -anger.  “This is the type of contract the best in the world pick up.  And they will.  And then they'll come after you.  You need to come stay at the manor, where it’s safe.”

Jason sighs as he starts packing a bag, only half listening to the lecture.  He's not going to the manor.  But if Bruce feels that strongly about it, then it means he's currently tracing the call, and this place has been compromised. 

“Okay, Bruce, I hear you,” Jason answers as he throws a stack of clothes into his duffle.  He's just glad this is one of his civilian apartments, and he doesn't have to worry about moving any of his Red Hood gear out.  “I will take this seriously,” he promises.  “I'm going to make some calls, and I'll figure out what's going on.  But I can't get anything taken care of if you’re hovering over my shoulder.  So I'll need to go dark for a few days.” 

He hangs up before Bruce can argue, abandons his civilian phone - his good phone - on the bed, slips the duffle over his shoulder, and throws on a baseball cap.  He’s out the door in less than a minute.  

He makes it three blocks before he sees the Batplane overhead.  In broad daylight.  Jason shakes his head; Bruce is always so dramatic. 

He slides up a manhole cover and ducks into the sewers.  Jason may be cool with Waylon, aka Killer Croc, but Batman is most definitely not.  No way he'll even think of looking for him down here.

And, honestly, Jason understands Bruce's concern.  He'd be concerned too if he were operating under the facts Bruce has.  He has no idea Jason has a sexual relationship with someone who very much has his hand on the pulse of anything and everything mercenary-related.  And it's not like Jason's ever talked about his time in the League of Assassins or about all the contacts he’d made there.  

The fact of the matter is, he'd been relatively popular among the assassin crowd.  Maybe ‘friends’ is pushing it, but he's racked up favors with a lot of the major players in that realm.  The fact that not a single one has given him a call about this means it's either a bogus contract or it's so new no one's had a chance to legitimize it yet.

Still, it can take days to weeks to legitimize a contract, and Jason's good, but he's not cocky enough to think he can dodge Bruce for weeks.  Not when he's being actively looked for.  Not when Jason has no intention of just hiding out in the sewers the whole time.

It means he can't wait for someone to call him to give him a heads up.  He's gotta actively call someone and cash in a favor.  Which is annoying, but hopefully it'll help get Bruce off his back. 

And, well, it has been a while since he talked to his … whatever he is.  Boyfriend?  Fuck buddy?  Partner?   Whatever.  Labels are hard.

He digs his cheap burner out of the side pocket of his cargo pants and dials the number by memory.  It gets picked up on the second ring.

“Kid.”

“Old man,” Jason greets back with a smirk.  “Heard about a certain contract.  Wondering if I should be concerned.”

Slade Wilson snorts on the other end of the phone.  “Oh?  Are you suddenly concerned about things now?  Wonder whose influence that is.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Alright, fine.  You caught me.  I'm not the one concerned.  Still wanna know about it though.”

“So you're asking me to look into it?  Seems like a waste of a favor, if you ask me.  Especially considering that last job you did for me in Borneo.”

Borneo was a fucking mess and took twice as long as it was supposed to.  And Jason had done it for free, dressed as Deathstroke, because Billy was on vacation and Slade had double-booked himself.  The man's an idiot without Billy.

That job also ended a huge trafficking ring that had roots in the country’s government for over two decades.  Jason wasn’t upset to do the job for free.  Would've done it even if it didn't put another tally in the favor column for Jason.  

Not that he's actually keeping track of who owes who what, but it seems to help Slade not freak out when he does something nice for Jason, so he's fine to go along with it.  Someday, Jason hopes Slade will stop painting himself as a villain who only does things for people so they'll do something for him.  But, while he waits for that to happen, he's fine to play into Slade's fantasies if it makes him feel less uncomfortable about it.

“Well, roll of the dice,” Jason answers easily.  “This is the favor I need right now.  Maybe the next one I cash in will be more work for you.”

“Mhm,” Slade answers.  And then nothing. 

Jason waits.  Slade’s all about testing his fucking patience.

“It's quite a contract,” Slade finally says.  “You should be proud of yourself.  Must be doing something right, if someone wants you dead this bad.”

Jason grins, because, well, he is pretty proud of it.  “Thanks.  Wish I had an idea of who put it up so I could send them a thank you card.  But I haven't pissed off any rich folks lately.”

“Yeah?  Already checked Wayne off the suspect list then?”

Jason laughs, loud and bright.  At least someone got his humor.  “Yeah.  Cleared that one myself.”

“Can't tell you who put it up either,” Slade answers.  “Which means it could just be a bullshit contract.  Keep up your night work, so no one thinks the contract's already been fulfilled.  You can deal with the couple of assassins too impulsive to look into its legitimacy.  But shoot to kill because as soon as they get back up, they'll be right back after you.  Think you can do that?”

“Doubting my skills, old man?”

“Doubting your ability to use them around Daddy dearest.  And, favor or not, I'm not wasting my time on a dead man.  Which is exactly what you'll be if these guys find out you're too soft-hearted to go for the kill shot.”

Jason rolls his eyes, even though he's thoroughly aware of the truth of Slade's statement.  He's going to have to keep working as Red Hood while making sure none of the bats can find him.  That way, when he's gotta put down a handful of assassins, he won't have any witnesses that can point the finger at him.

So it'll be just like when he first came back to town.  He’ll have to re-prep some stuff and freshen up on his escape routes, but it's doable.  He's done it before.

“I've got a handle on it,” Jason assures the other man.  “But your concern warms my heart.  It really does.”  His words are full of sarcasm, but they both know he’s being genuine. 

“Someone's gotta care about your snarky ass,” Slade answers.  “I'll give you a call back once I know more,” he promises when Jason doesn’t reply to his first comment.  “Watch your back in the meantime.  Prove to these assholes I didn't train an imbecile.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.  Talk soon,” Jason answers before hanging up.  He catches himself smiling down at his cheap burner because he’s a sap.  And also because his … whatever is a badass, so if he’s helping, this mess will be solved quickly.   

“You know, it's polite to knock,” a deep voice says from behind him. 

Jason shoves his phone back in his pocket and spins around.  He smirks when he sees the large man with reptilian skin.  “Heya Waylon.  Sorry.  Batman's kinda on one, and I needed a quick place to crash for a bit.  But I can make it up to ya.”

Waylon looks him up and down, and it's only then that Jason realizes that Waylon’s only met him while he's wearing his helmet.  The other man must not get many visitors, though, because he quickly catches on to who he is.  “Red Hood,” he greets, his sharp teeth flashing into a smile.  “Come to feed me more bodies?”

Jason’s smile grows as he nods back.  “Might have a couple of 'em for ya in the next night or two, yeah.”

“Good.  We're having a poker night on Saturday.  My place.  You should come.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks, wondering exactly who the ‘we’ includes.  Still, never a bad idea to make nice with the more sane villains of Gotham.  Maybe it wouldn’t be bad to at least make an appearance.  “Okay.  Might stop by.  What time?”

He hangs out with Waylon for another hour before he feels confident that Batman has left the area.  He also realizes that a safehouse may not be the best place for his gear and weapons.  Not with Batman hunting him.  Especially since Babs will probably be helping him, which means all his normal places are already exposed.  Waylon’s nice enough to offer him a spot down in the sewers, but makes it clear that any bat who may follow him down here is fair game.  

Admittedly, it's not the best deal, because Jason really does not want Waylon eating any of his family members, but the sewers really are the best spot for him to hunker down if things get a little too intense in the city.  So he agrees.  And, turns out, Waylon's excited for his first-ever roommate.  Jason can't regret his decision when faced with Waylon’s enthusiasm. 

He finds a dry spot under one of his safehouses in Crime Alley and leaves his duffle full of civilian clothes there.  Then he moves in a mattress, a backup burner phone, his gear, and some of his favorite weapons.  Waylon provides a couch covered in bloodstains and a soggy coffee table.  Which is nice of him.

Then Jason gets to work prepping the Alley.  He pays some street kids to take out any and all cameras they can find.  Starts mapping out escape routes that'll give him enough time to slip into the sewers unnoticed.  Sets up some traps in some buildings, so condemned he knows for a fact no one sleeps in them at night.  But he spreads the word on the street to keep away from them anyway, just in case.  He makes a note to check in on all of them tonight, just to make sure his warnings are being taken seriously.

He gets an unknown number calling on his burner phone, which he doesn't pick up.  He's sure it's Babs trying to contact him.  But he's got so many numbers tied to his name - a burner for every safehouse, plus several numbers still tied to previously destroyed burners - that she'll never be able to find out which one he's using as long as he doesn't pick up.  She's trying to find a needle in a stack of needles: an impossible job as long as Jason doesn't point out the way.

He stores his motorcycle in the back of a broken-down trailer that he's sure none of the bats know he owns.  But he knows he won’t be able to use it until his contract’s dealt with.  He's under no illusions that the second they find it out in the open, they'll put trackers on it. 

He writes off every safehouse he knows his family knows about, and any safehouse under any known aliases.  It leaves him with only two, and neither is in Crime Alley. 

So he buys some locks and hides some gear and weapon caches in some of the abandoned buildings in the area.  Makes sure to pick rooms on upper floors that aren't accessible without a grapple gun.  There's one place he likes so much he actually destroys the steps leading to the second floor himself. 

The prep takes him all day and into the night.  And he's absolutely exhausted by the end of it, but he slips into the sewers and fastens on his armor anyway.  Because Slade’s right: he needs to be out tonight.  He needs to pretend he doesn't know anything about the contract until people start coming after him. 

His first two nights out go well.  He doesn't meet any assassins, focuses on small-time crime, and successfully dodges all bats.  

So, maybe, it's his fault that Nightwing finds him on his third night out.  Maybe he's let his guard down too much.  Too focused on tracking a suspected mobster rumored to be selling laced drugs below him than checking the tops of the buildings surrounding him. 

“Thought you told B you'd be careful,” Nightwing says. 

Jason will deny the flinch of surprise for the rest of his second life.  He keeps focused on the mobster on the streets below them, even as he turns so he has Dick in his peripheral.  He forces himself to keep relaxed even as he becomes hyperaware of his brother's movements.  If he calls any of the other bats, then Jason needs to make a hasty exit. 

“I am being careful,” Jason assures him.  “I also told B I'd work on it, and I can't do that if I'm hiding out.”

“You can't do it if you're dead either,” Nightwing argues.  

“You ever consider that the contract’s just a bunch of bullshit?” Jason asks.  “I've been out every night since B told me, and no assassins yet.”

And then, like the universe wants to tell the world's best joke, there's the sound of a single bullet hitting a target. 

Dick tackles him and rolls them behind an industrial AC unit.  And when Jason looks, he sees where the bullet hit: not even an inch from where Jason had been crouching. 

“Shots fired.  We're both fine.  For now,” Dick says because of course he would have opened his comms line before approaching Jason.  Stupid that Jason hadn’t considered that.

Unfortunately, Jason had left his own comms in one of his safehouses, not wanting Babs to use it to trace him.  “We know who just shot at us?” he asks calmly, because it wasn't ‘shots fired’ it was ‘shot fired’.  One shot.  Like a warning shot.  Not the type of behavior of someone wanting to kill someone else.

“Deadshot,” Dick answers in disbelief.  It sounds like he's repeating it.  Probably Babs caught the famous mercenary on one of the many cameras she has at her disposal.  Dick turns as his hold on Jason loosens.  “We've gotta get out of here.  Now,” he says, concern in every word.  “We need a distraction.”

Jason is very confident that Deadshot doesn't want him dead.  More importantly, Dick isn't holding him down anymore.  “Got it,” he says like he's agreeing with him as he climbs to his feet.  Then he kicks Dick hard in the stomach, enough to send him down and wheezing.  It’ll hopefully give him the time he needs to talk to Deadshot.  He takes off running, towards the spot where the gunman would be, given the trajectory of the bullet.

Deadshot, ever the professional, is on a rooftop over half a mile away.  He's standing, arms crossed and sniper rifle strapped across his back, by the time Jason gets to him. 

“Nice shot,” Jason compliments as he lands on the roof that the other man is standing on. 

“I know,” Deadshot answers stoically.  

And here's the part where Jason has to play verbal chess so he can get information without cashing in a favor.  He fucking hates this part.  “I assume you're here to tell me I'm worth ten million bucks.”

“Maybe to some people.  The way I heard it, you're worth a little less than that.”

Jason smirks even though he's wearing his helmet, so Deadshot can't tell.  “Clearly you're in disagreement, otherwise I'd be dead right now.”

Deadshot snorts.  “Yeah, don't you worry.  Contract hadn’t been up for more than thirty minutes before that overprotective bulldog of yours called me up and read me the riot act.  Though I’ll admit, after the kinds of threats he was throwing around, I was tempted to take it.”

“Yeah? What stopped you?  You realize the contract was bullshit?”

“Oh, it's a real contract, alright.  I wouldn't have made the stop if it wasn't,” Deadshot answers.  “Just be glad I like you.  And that I know how much of a bitch your man can be when you piss him off.  Got that guy wrapped around your finger, dontcha?”

Jason shrugs and tries not to devolve to fidgeting.  His relationship with Slade isn’t a secret from just the bats.  It’s supposed to be a secret from everyone.  Though, with the way Deadshot’s talking, they haven’t been as successful as they thought in keeping it hidden.  “We have an arrangement.”

Deadshot snorts.  “Yeah. An arrangement.  That what Wilson call it?”

“It's what I call it,” Jason answers.  “Did you actually come here for something important?  Or did you just wanna gossip?”

“Just staking my claim,” Deadshot replies with a shrug.  “You're welcome for covering your back for the last two nights.”

Jason crosses his arms as he hears a sound behind him.  He's confident it's Dick, and he clenches his teeth against the anxiety of him hearing something Jason doesn’t want him to.  He forces himself to stay loose.  Deadshot is a professional.  If Jason heard Dick, then Deadshot did too; he won't give anything away he doesn't mean to.  “Far as I can tell,” Jason forces himself to continue, “I don't owe you a thank you, seeing as how I never asked you to do that in the first place.  And we both know I could have taken care of myself.”

“Not gonna argue that, Ghost.  Just thought I'd help you out with this small thing, and the next time I ask you for a small thing, you count it as a favor already exchanged.”

“Last I checked, you already owed me a couple favors, M.I.A.,” Jason replies. 

“Yeah,” Deadshot is quick to agree.  “Big favors.  Neither of which I asked for.  Both of which I appreciate.  So count this as you owing me a small favor and say ‘thank you’.  Or, fuck, if you're so upset about me forcing you into an I-owe-you then just consider it a thank you for doing what you did for me.”

“Thank you,” Jason replies, indicating that he’s taking Deadshot up on his small favor.  Because mercenary or not, Deadshot’s a nice guy, and he's got a daughter he loves more than life itself, and he could use a guy in his corner who owes him a small favor.  “I'll send you my new number,” he assures him with a nod.

Deadshot laughs.  “Yeah, I'm not keeping track of that shit.  You change your number like I change my underwear.”

“If that's the case, I feel bad for anyone you're sticking your dick in,” Jason interrupts.  It’s true he changes numbers frequently, but it’s not that often.  Once every couple of months, maybe.    

Deadshot laughs again.  “Don't you worry about my dick, boy.  Don't wanna make that bulldog of yours jealous.”

Jason huffs.  “Yeah, yeah.”  There’s no point in arguing something Deadshot’s already confident he knows.  Plus, there’s no way he’d ever use Jason to get to Slade; not after everything Jason’s done for the man.   

“Mhm,” Deadshot hums.  “If I need you, I'll call Bulldog's babysitter.  Now, am I getting you out of here?  Or am I leaving you to your shadows?”

Shadows plural, because at this point, at least four of the six active bats have them surrounded.  Could potentially be five, since he can’t tell if Cass is with them or not.  

And he should really talk to his family about what they've just heard, because they’re probably overly concerned.  They’re bound to blow things out of proportion.  Except Bruce is most likely still on his stay-at-the-manor crusade, and Jason's going to be at a huge disadvantage if they decide to take him by force. 

“Let's call it that thank you that you offered earlier,” Jason says slowly.  “Non-lethal distraction,” he continues before running past Deadshot and leaping off the building to the sound of gunfire.

“Brat!” 

“You're the one who attracted their attention!” Jason calls out behind him before he races towards the closest escape path into the sewers. 

“So, Jay knows Deadshot,” Dick announces once they're all back at the cave, miraculously bullet-free.  The audio he’d been able to pick up from his recording device has just replayed Deadshot’s and Jason’s conversation.  But, even after hearing it for the second time, he’s still in disbelief at what he’s heard.  

“Enough that the man owes him favors,” Bruce glowers, his cowl pulled back and his face stern. 

“Explains why he wasn't worried about the contract,” Steph pipes him. 

“More than the favors,” Tim starts, glancing at Bruce.  “They know each other well enough to have given each other nicknames.  Jay is ‘Ghost’ and Deadshot is ‘M.I.A.’.  That speaks to something military.  And, even more telling, he knows Jay's phone habits.”

Steph snorts.  “What?  You suggesting they're friends?”

“No way,” Dick says, shaking his head.  “If they were friends, then Jay wouldn't have offered his number, because Deadshot would've already had it.”

“A history,” Tim guesses.  “Something big they were on the same side of that was personal to Deadshot.  Hence the favors and the nicknames.  And maybe they tried to keep in touch, but Deadshot couldn't keep up with Jay’s revolving phone numbers.”

“And maybe this Bulldog guy was with them too, except he's kept in touch with Jay cause he's got one of those dispatcher guys keeping track of the number changes for him,” Dick adds.

“There is not a mercenary named Bulldog.  At least not one anywhere close to the level Deadshot is,” Damian says.  “I would know: the League has contact with most, if not all, the big names.”

Tim whirls on him.  “You think that's where Jay met these guys?”

“Maybe,” Damian concedes.  “I did not know Todd at the League.  I was busy with my own training.  But I know Deadshot has taken on contracts with some of Grandfather's trusted followers before.”

Dick focuses on Bruce, who’s looking very disturbed.  “You know about Bulldog?” he guesses.

“I know about Deadshot,” Bruce answers, his face still hard.  “I know he was forced into the Suicide Squad under Amanda Waller.  And I know he mysteriously disappeared before turning back up as a mercenary six months later.  I know the other members of his squad reported him often talking to thin air, thinking he had cracked up.”

“Well,” Steph says with a sigh.  “Certainly makes the nicknames make sense, doesn't it?  And that would be a huge favor: rescuing someone from having a bomb in their neck.”

“But why rescue Deadshot and not any of the others?” Dick asks. 

“Deadshot is a father,” Bruce answers flatly.  “And Jason's own father missed years of his life because he was locked up.  Perhaps he was projecting.”

Tim snorts.  “You think Jason thinks of Deadshot as a father figure?”

“No,” Bruce answers just as quickly.  “But he could see himself in Deadshot’s daughter. A small child just wanting their father to come home.”

The hypothesis is met with silence.

TBC

Chapter Text

“Slade,” Jason mumbles, answering his phone still half-asleep.  “You get me something?”

“Deadshot is in your area.  He-”

“... Came over to warn me,” Jason interrupts.  He yawns as he sits up on the mattress he’d moved into the sewer.  “I know.  I talked to him last night.  Said the contract’s legit, and he's been keeping people off me for the last coupla nights.  I assume he's left by now for an actual contract, otherwise he wouldn't have warned me.”

“You trust him too much,” Slade accuses. 

Jason snorts.  “Yeah?  The fact that I'm still not dead should be enough of an argument against that.”

“That's what everyone says before they're turned around and stabbed in the back.”

Jason huffs as he rubs at an eye and tries to wake himself up.  “I saved the guy from slavery under Amanda Waller.  I saved his daughter from a human trafficking ring.  That's not a guy you betray, Slade.  That's a guy you keep in your back pocket, and we both know it.”

“That's a guy you would keep in your back pocket.  That's a guy I would take out before he tried cashing in some of those favors,” Slade replies. 

“Well, in that case, remind me to never rescue your daughter.”

“As if Rose would ever need rescued by anyone,” Slade says.  “Don't kid yourself.”

“And, for the record, you owe me more favors than Deadshot,” Jason points out.  “Is this you warning me that you're planning to kill me?”

“You should always assume that, boy,” Slade answers in a low voice.  “What's the first thing I taught you?

Jason rolls his eyes.  Slade loves reminding Jason that he’s a bad guy who wouldn’t hesitate to sell him up the river.  Except his actions consistently prove the exact opposite is true.  “Don't trust anyone.  I know.  Also, that's a catch-22, since if I didn't trust anyone, that would have to include me, not trusting you when you taught me not to trust anyone.  Your lesson is a trap.”

“And you're a headache,” Slade replies.  “Also, I owe you job favors.  I don't owe you any life debts or the life of anyone I care about.  You're not so dumb that you can't understand the difference.

He doesn’t owe Slade any life debts, only because neither of them keeps track of those.  Slade’s saved his life plenty, and vice versa.  But Jason’s not going to get into all that.  Slade gets uncomfortable if he’s reminded of how much they care about each other.  

Besides, there are other arguments Jason can make.  “Sure, but he also never asked me to help him,” Jason points out.  “So it's not like I can call him up and demand he take his own life for me because he owes it to me.  That wouldn't be an equal exchange.

“Some people would disagree with you.”

“Yeah, well, those people aren't me,” Jason replies, trying not to get too aggravated at such a stupid argument.  “And I'm willing to stake my life on Deadshot not being one of those people either.  A stance I grow more confident in every day I wake up, still alive,” he snaps.  “Were you calling with helpful information, or did you just want to annoy me?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” Slade answers calmly.  “We both know you wouldn't have been able to handle Deadshot if he’d been in town to collect.”

“Agree to disagree,” Jason replies, even though they both know he's just posturing.  Deadshot could have absolutely killed him last night if he had wanted to, and all three of them know it.  Jason was under no illusions before, but if he had been, the warning shot Deadshot had fired at him last night would've told him as much.

“Yeah, kid, keep being cocky.  That's never been anyone's downfall before,” Slade says, his voice still calm and emotionless.  But Jason knows him.  The forced calm is a huge tell in just how worried he actually is.  

“I appreciate you checking up on me.  Is that what you want to hear?” Jason asks.  It comes out annoyed, but he does actually mean it.  Despite the irritating arguments, Jason always likes hearing from him.  And it’s nice to be reminded of how much Slade secretly cares.  He waits a beat, but Slade doesn't reply.  “I'd appreciate you having information on this contract even more,” Jason admits.  “Like, say, the name and location of the party who posted it."

“Working on it,” Slade answers.  “All I can tell you right now is they wanna stay hidden.  Traced it through a couple different dispatchers.  Haven't found the source yet.  But the dispatchers are well-known enough for most people to consider the contract valid.  Means you'll be getting more visitors soon.  And since Deadshot was taking care of them for you, you can't even gauge what ‘more’ is.  Not really sure if I'd consider that a favor.  Seems more like he killed off the easy ones to make you think he's a good guy, and then left town before he had any chance of actually risking himself for you.”

Jason huffs out a laugh as he shakes his head.  “Thanks for that pessimistic outlook.  The worry’s touching, but unnecessary. I’ll be-”

“I'm not worried,” Slade interrupts.  “I trained you.  You think I don't know that you can handle yourself?”

“Oh, Slade, are you getting sentimental on me?” Jason coos.  A dial tone answers.  Not that it's a surprise.  Slade is more emotionally constipated than Bruce some days.  

“I remember when we first met,” Waylon says in a soft voice, coming out of the water to perch on Jason's stoop-turned-bedroom.  “So many bodies.  Some were even still warm; that's my favorite, you know.”  And, yeah, Jason does know.  Waylon’s told him multiple times, in fact.  “Thought I'd never go hungry again,” Waylon continues.  “But then you disappeared, and so did they.  Had to go back to hunting for scraps, all by myself.”  He looks over at Jason and grins.  “But then, you show back up and promise a repeat.  I was so excited.”  Jason can’t help but grin back.  “I was really looking forward to it.  Was so sure I’d go right back to that delicious surplus of meat.  I’d always be full and satisfied once again.  And yet, here we are, three days later, and nothing .” He glares down at Jason.  “I'm hungry , Hood,” he growls.  “And you haven't been making rent.”

Jason lifts both his hands up to his chest, palms out.  “Alright, yeah, I can’t argue with you.  It's true: I've been lazy.  But, no worries.” He smirks at him.  “The real hunting starts today.”

Hood’s hunt is very lucrative in terms of feeding Waylon bodies.  It is not very lucrative in terms of finding any kind of helpful information.  

None of these idiots will talk.  Most of them don't even have dispatchers to steer them to where they need to go. They’re just here hunting him because they’ve heard gossip about this big name or that big name being interested, and that’s apparently good enough for the idiots to think the contract’s real.

There had been two tonight with comms units in their ears, clearly talking to their dispatcher.  But both of them would rather die than give up their person behind the chair.  Jason had really hoped that at least one of the assassins had been exaggerating.  But they’re both dead, and Jason has no new names of any dispatchers.

Given how normally tight-lipped assassins and their dispatchers are, Jason is really not looking forward to his hunt getting even harder as he eventually gets closer to the dispatcher who’s actively trying to hide after he had issued Jason’s contract. 

Hood’s hunt is also frustrating because the whole time he's out hunting the assassins who are hunting him, he also has to avoid the bats who are hunting him.  It's a fine, fine line he walks.

He'd really like to point out to the bats that having to avoid them makes his entire situation a lot more dangerous, but he's well aware Bruce wouldn't listen, so there's no reason for Jason to waste his breath.  

But if Jason were to make the argument, his current situation would definitely be one of the first examples he’d give about why the bats pursuing him make things more dangerous for him, not less.

He’d been running from Batman because the man had emerged from the shadows charging towards him, and what the fuck else would a normal person do in that situation?  He’s swinging between two buildings, cautiously optimistic that he’ll be able to duck into the sewers after two more blocks, and then, suddenly, Jason's falling through the air, grappling cord cut, and a fucking sword spinning towards his face. 

It's not ideal.  Jason can say he definitely feels a lot more unsafe now than when he was busy not being chased by Batman. 

He might hear a scream as he unholsters one of his guns, but he ignores it.  He quickly lifts his gun up and uses his multifaceted weapon to block the sword.  Then he fires it behind him, hoping his current momentum, along with the power of the gun’s recoil, will be enough to land him on the closest roof. 

It does , thank fuck.  Guns are only good for killing his ass.  He’s landed in a graceless lump on a low rooftop, and he struggles to get his bearings before whoever it is who’s trying to kill him this time catches up.  Jason hears a familiar laugh and immediately relaxes.  He stops trying to stand and, instead, slumps over.  His anxiety drains out of him as it’s replaced with relief.  

“Man, your party tricks do not disappoint, you know that, Pretty Bird?  I thought for sure  you were gonna go splat.”

“Wade,” Jason greets as he sighs.  The man’s always been a bit of a rough touch.  He rolls onto his back and glances up, and there's Wade, hands on his hips as he leans over him.  “You've gotta learn to say ‘hi’ without trying to kill people, buddy.”

Wade just laughs again.  “Yeah, probably.  Luckily, I have really durable friends.”  He offers a hand to help Jason up. 

“Yeah?  You ever think that's thanks to process of elimination?” Jason asks.  He belatedly remembers Bruce, who has to have caught up to them by now, but hasn't interrupted yet.  Probably a good thing?  Probably using it as an opportunity to collect more information on Jason.

“Could be,” Wade replies with a shrug.  “Definitely prefer it that way.  Who wants non-durable friends?  So!  What car roofs has my pretty bird been taking a shit on, huh?” He gives a high-pitched whistle.  “Seven million dollars!  That's something!  We should get a cake!  Get drunk!  Celebrate!”

Jason laughs.  “Sounds great, but let's put a hold on all that until I find out who actually issued it in the first place.”

Wade nods.  “Yeah, I'd wanna invite along the person who made me famous, too.  But, let's be honest, it's not hard to figure out.  Not a lot of people have scratch like that and even fewer of ‘em would be willing to take out a hit.”

“Oh, yeah?  If you've got ideas, I'd be happy to hear ‘em,” Jason replies, wondering whether he’s going to get a long list of nonsense names courtesy of Wade’s overactive imagination, or if the other man’s come to Gotham specifically to deliver someone else’s list of very real suspects. 

“Welp, there's the fact that Black Mask has been hanging out at the Iceberg Lounge,” Wade replies.  “And, yeah, sure, maybe the guy's finally figured out that sticking his dick in the strippers working there relieves some of his anger issues.  But, it could be …”

“... Him and Penguin pulling their money together to eliminate a pesky crime lord,” Jason mutters as he crosses his arms. 

Wade waves a thumbs-up at him.  “Yep!  With their powers combined! But, hey, good call coming back to Gotham!  I thought all those dictators in those war-torn countries were fun, but here you get excitement and cable!”

“And hot showers,” Jason adds with a laugh.  

“Oh, yeah, those are also nice,” Wade says like he's contemplating it.  “Also, Waller’s been moving money around.  And everyone knows how much she hates you.  Which is to be expected.  I told you to go for a smaller government to fuck with for your first time, but you wouldn't listen.” He shakes his head as if Jason’s disappointed him.

Jason doesn’t buy it for a minute, and Wade knows it.  “Who said that was my first time?” he asks.

Wade laughs, loud and billowing.  “You see, Pretty Bird, this is why I like you!  If my cousin didn't see you first, I'd be all over you, you know that?  We'd have so much fun!”

“Yeah, yeah.  So you've told me.

“You know what they say!  Cousins before fuzz-ins!”

“No one says that,” Jason replies, shaking his head.  “I don't even know what that means.” He sighs, but can't help the smile on his face.  Wade is loud and boisterous and has some intense kind of ADHD, but he’s great at what he does.  And all the other mercenaries are terrified of him.  And Jason knows most people wouldn’t take that as a compliment, but there’s a lot of safety that comes with being the thing that frightens people.  And anyone who doesn’t appreciate safety clearly has never gotten it ripped away from them before. 

“Fuzz-ins, you know, like pubic hair,” Wade explains with a nod. 

It takes Jason a second to figure out what he’s talking about, and then another to make some sort of sense out of it.  “That just makes it sound like you're having sex with your prepubescent cousins.”

“Oh.  Huh,” Wade mutters, using a hand to rub at his cloth-covered chin.  “That explains why I got so many weird looks when I said it at that daycare earlier.”

Jason has no idea what Wade would be doing at a daycare center, but he’s sure that whatever explanation he’d be given would just confuse him more, so he doesn’t ask.  “I'm sure there were more reasons than just that, buddy,” Jason says as Wade nods in agreement.  He steers them back to the important part of their conversation.  “Any other rich fucks out there that hate me?

“Oh, Lexi for sure, after you stole all that you-know-what and resold it to you-know-who.  No doubt he’s still all miffed about that one,” Wade answers, sounding gleeful. 

Jason remembers that event particularly well.  Stole a shit ton of kryptonite right out from under Lex Luthor’s nose.  Then he resold it to some Spanish warlord he’d met playing Tute the night before.  The next night, he blew the warlord, his military compound, and the kryponite all sky high.  

Wade’s cryptic explanation means that he knows they’ve got an audience.  Jason just hopes it’s still only Batman, and they haven’t accumulated any of the others. 

“And Tony might hate you a little bit,” Wade continues. 

The shock of that makes Jason’s shoulders jerk up.  “Tony?  Why the fuck would he hate me?  I haven't done anything to him.”  He’s pretty sure he hasn’t anyway.  And, even if Jason had , he couldn’t imagine Stark being the type of person to put up a contract.  He’s a hero; he’s Iron Man.

Fuck, Jason had thought Tony liked him.   

“Tony hates everyone.  Just, like, in general,” Wade replies, his voice speeding up at every new explanation.  “He’s a very angry man.  And, also, he tried to stick his dick in you that one time, ‘member?  And you turned him down.  That type of thing hurts a man’s ego, Pretty Bird.  Oh! And, also, I've told him multiple times that we're best friends.  He doesn't appreciate that at all .  Also, also, he's the one who gave me all this information, which is very suspicious, because he doesn't like me or you.

Jason snorts.  So the Tony thing is just weird Wade-logic, and doesn’t have any foundation in reality.  That’s good.  The challenge of going after a hero in order to cancel his contract had not been an appealing one.  “Yeah, but he does like Peter,” Jason reminds Wade.  “And I bet he’s happy to get you out of the city for a couple days.”

Wade shrugs.  “Mm.  Maybe.”

“There anyone else on his list?”

Wade snaps his fingers.  “Yep!  That demon guy.  Head Demon.”  He tilts his head to the side.  “Demon Head?”

“Ra’s?” Jason asks in confusion.  “He hates me?”  He hadn't thought he was even on Ra’s radar.  He had rarely ever even seen the man while Jason was with the League.  Shit, he would’ve been surprised if Ra’s even knew his name .  Even less likely that Ra’s would know it now .  Maybe Jason had done something indirectly to him?  Had inadvertently gone after one of the League’s side businesses?  It’s not entirely impossible, given how much Jason likes stealing weapon shipments from suspicious people and how much the League likes looking suspicious while transporting weapons. 

Wade shrugs.  “That's what Tony says, and the big blowhard is usually right.  Which is awful for the guy's ego.  His head’s going to explode one day.  I swear it.

“I hope you're there to witness it,” Jason replies with a chuckle.  “You already tell your cousin?”

“Nah.  I figured I'd tell you first,” Wade answers.  “I know how you two like getting all flirty with your favor trades or whatever they are.  So now, when he calls you with the info, you can be all like, ‘yeah, like, totally duh, I already know that.  Like, get me some useful 4-1-1.’  ”

“Today I learned that I sound like a 90’s Valley girl,” Jason replies.  “Gotta be honest, I wish I had never known that about myself.”  He ignores Wade’s first comment; he already knows it’s a lost cause.  Wade had spoken as if Jason and Slade were dating months before they were actually dating … or .. fucking ... or … whatever it is they're doing together.  There’s never been a point in arguing with Wade about it. 

“I can mock you like this instead,” Wade offers, pitching his voice low and deep.  “Hi.  I'm Red Hood, and I have masculinity issues.  Look at my guns and big ole chest.”

“Hey! I'll have you know I work hard on this chest,” Jason sarcastically snaps, jerking a thumb towards one of his pecs. 

“Not the only thing that gets hard about that chest, Pretty Bird,” Wade returns.  “Also, you can't tell right now, ‘cause I'm in my mask, but I just winked at you,” he says before throwing up finger guns and firing them in Jason's direction.

Jason laughs.  “Good to know.  Otherwise, I woulda been confused about whether you were flirting with me or not.”

“Hood,” Batman says, his voice stern but careful.  It makes Jason tense up, because his dumbass had forgotten B was eavesdropping.  “Introduce me to your friend.”

Wade instantly shakes his head.  “Oh no.  This was actually supposed to be like an A-to-B type of convo.  I let you listen in cause Pretty Bird let you listen in.  But I'm aware of your little dynamic here,” he says, pointing between Batman and Jason.  “So you can either let Hood go or I can slice open your large intestine so wide you'll be shitting out of a bag for the rest of your life.  Won't kill you.  It will make crime-fighting very difficult.  Unless you wanna adopt the new catchphrase, ‘Batman: taking a shit all over crime one burrito at a time’.”  Wade gives a thoughtful hum.  “Which is actually kind of catchy, now that I’m saying it.”

Jason moves, ensuring he's positioned between Wade and Bruce.  Then regrets the move when he realizes it's more for Bruce's protection than Wade’s. “You already know who he is, B,” he says with a sigh.  Bruce is definitely going to freak out about this.  “He's a friend, okay?  He's cool.  He's been working with the Avengers lately.”  Hopefully, that helps give him some credibility in the ‘not here to kill Jason’ department.

Wade shrugs. Extends a flat palm and shakes it back and forth in a so-so gesture.  “Eeeeh.  I've been working with Spiderman lately.  And I sometimes talk to the Avengers.”

Jason turns to Wade and hopes he can feel his glare through the helmet.  “Maybe don't ruin your case.  I'd actually like everyone to leave here without any permanent injuries.”

“Oh,” Wade answers, as if that hadn't occurred to him.  He leans around Jason to look at Batman.  “Yeah, I work with the Avengers sometimes,” he agrees.  “They send me in to deal with the big green guy whenever he goes a little too psycho.  Get that?  I control the uncontrollable guy.  You can go ahead and be impressed whenever you're ready.”  He shoots a look at Jason.  “I winked again.  You probably couldn't tell.”

“I'm actually really glad you clarified, because it's a lot more ominous without the wink,” Jason replies.  “But if it means you're hitting on my dad, we're going to have problems.”

“Whoops,” Wade replies, right before Batman’s stern,” Hood.”

And Wade, of course, leaps all over that.  He flaps his hands in Bruce's direction.  “You hear that, Pretty Bird?  He wanted me to hit on him!  Imma be your new dad, kiddo!  I insist you call me ‘Daddy’!  Otherwise, no dinner for you!”

“Wade, I promise you, I will slice my own tongue out before I ever call you that,” Jason answers.  “And, also, keep it up, and I'll find a way to kill your ass for real.”

“Jason!” And the snap of his real name while he’s in uniform brings Jason back to the time when he’d been Robin and would do something that Batman deemed too high-risk.  How Batman would yell, ‘Jason!’ after Robin just had a particularly close call dodging some rogue’s handgun.  It reminds Jason of how terrified Bruce must be right now.  Because he's not seeing Jason's goofy friend Wade, he's seeing the unkillable mercenary Deadpool.

“He's fine, B,” Jason says as softly and calmly as he can.  He lifts his hands in surrender, trying to think of something to reassure Bruce that Jason’s safe with Wade.  “I swear he's harmless.  He's just-”

And then Jason gets yanked back.  And Wade is now suddenly in-between him and Bruce, which is very not good.  But Jason doesn't have time to do anything about it before Wade jerks to the side.  And Jason is very familiar with that type of twitch.  That's the twitch of someone who just took a high-caliber round. 

“Gnarly,” Wade remarks, looking down at his arm where half of it has been blown off.  He looks out over the rooftops, towards where the bullet must have come from.  “Well, I promised Petey-Pie no more unaliving people, which is a big bummer,” he says, glancing at Jason.  “ But, I can try to rip out some of his spine so he's paralyzed for life for you.”

It's honestly kind of a sweet gesture, but Jason also shouldn’t be condoning paralyzing people for life in front of Batman.  Jason shrugs.  “That's not-”

“You're right,” Wade replies with a decisive nod.  “That's not the optimistic attitude Petey-Pie would want to hear.  I will not try to rip his spinal cord out.  I will rip his spinal cord out,” he declares, his voice deep and strong.  It’s excited and higher-pitched the next second. “Promise to bring you back a piece!”  And then he's off, leaping across roofs without a grapple. 

Jason turns to glance at a glaring Bruce.

“That's not harmless, Hood.”

Jason shrugs, forcing nonchalance.  “You should be happy for me!  I have a friend who shares your life philosophies!”

“This isn't a game,” Bruce replies angrily.  “It's dangerous! It's-”

“Yeah, I know!” Jason snaps back in exasperation.  “Someone just shot at me!  I'm aware it's dangerous!  I know it’s not a game.  I'm dealing with it!  Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get off this roof before someone else tries to shoot me.”

He runs as if he's fleeing, but Bruce doesn't chase after him. 

TBC

Chapter Text

Jason wakes up to another call from Slade. 

“Still not dead yet then?” he asks before Jason even greets him. 

“Oh ye of little faith,” Jason replies, sitting up in bed and scrubbing at one of his eyes that's currently refusing to open properly.  “You finally find out something useful?”

“I have a list of possible suspects I'm narrowing down.”

“Are you?” Jason asks with a grin.  “The way I heard it, Stark’s doing your dirty work for you.”

Slade's voice goes dark.  “You saw my cousin.”

“I did indeed,” Jason replies, his smile only growing.  “I have a sneaky suspicion he likes me more than you.”

“Only because he likes annoying me.”

“Maybe.  Or it could be because I'm nice to him.”

“Half the people that are nice to him he gets killed, you know that, right?” Slade asks flatly.  “Stop treating him like he's some kind of puppy.  He’s a menace.”

“You worry too much,” Jason complains.  

“You’d think after already dying once, you wouldn’t be so excited to go through it a second time,” Slade mutters before dropping the subject, already knowing arguing with Jason would get him nowhere.  “I have more than just Stark’s list.  I can tell you that the money Waller’s moving around isn’t for any mercenary contracts, so she’s off the list.  But word on the street is the Falcone crime family would really like your head mounted on their wall, and just came into some funds.”

“So, remove Waller and replace her with the Falcones,” Jason summarizes.  “Doesn’t actually narrow down the list.”

“Does give you more to do, though,” Slade replies.  “Unless you want me doing all the legwork on top of all the research for you.”

Right.  Because Penguin, Black Mask, and the Falcones all live in his backyard.  He debates throwing them Bruce’s way.  It’d be nice to give the bats something to do besides stalking him.  But if he does that there's a good chance he’ll get excluded from whatever intel they gather because they'll think he'll fuck it up or whatever.    

Can he investigate while dodging both bats and assassins?  Maybe.  It'd definitely be a challenge.  And probably an unnecessary one, given what he's sure Bruce had overheard last night.  He's got basically the same list as Jason; he's probably already started his own investigation. 

“I can send someone to you, if it's too much,” Slade offers.  Because Jason's been silent too long. 

“Nah, nah,” Jason replies quickly.  “Just strategizing.  You'll handle Ra’s and Lex Luthor?”

“Already am.  Call if you change your mind.” 

Slade hangs up before Jason can answer, which is all well and good because he wasn’t sure what to say anyway.  Slade's never offered him a … what? Bodyguard? Protection detail?  It puts Jason on edge in a way nothing else had before.  Slade's worried.  Really worried.  And Slade never gets that worried.  Which means Jason should maybe start taking this a little more seriously.  Get the bats involved.

Fuck.

He goes topside and buys a new burner phone specifically for his call to Bruce.  Then he hops a bus towards the Diamond District, just to make sure he's as far away from all his actual locations as he can be. 

He doesn't know the area nearly as well as Crime Alley, and he has no traps set around here, but daylight means low risk.  He maps out a route he'll walk as he talks to Bruce, mentally marking all the entry ways into the sewers.

Just in case Bruce decides to come after him.  Hopefully, he won't, since Jason's calling to compromise, but Bruce loves throwing his curveballs.

“I'm willing to work with you, but I have conditions,” Jason says as soon as his call is picked up because, apparently, Bruce's horrible phone etiquette is rubbing off on him.

“Good,” Bruce answers, like Jason’s already agreed to work with them.  “I have my own conditions, but I’m willing to hear yours first.”

Willing.  As if Bruce is the one who called him and arranged for these negotiations.

Jason grits his teeth against the annoyance and forces himself to let it go.  All the argument will do is get them off track, and Jason has a finite amount of time to talk before they’ll be able to trace his phone’s location, regardless of how many anti-tracking programs he’s currently running on the thing. 

“If I'm sharing my information with you, then you're sharing your information with me,” Jason starts.  “No leaving me out, no skipping details because you're trying to protect me, and you drop your insistence about me staying at the manor for protection.  I'm going out, and I'm going to be helping.  And if you try to keep me from that, then I'll just go dark again.”

“Okay,” Bruce replies, as if he's already expected as much.  And maybe he has, but it still makes Jason feel as if he's walked into some sort of trap.  “Any other conditions?”

“Maybe,” Jason hedges.  “But let's hear yours first.” He scans the roofs of the buildings around him, making sure there are no bats around.  It's daylight; they shouldn't be out.  But he's also been on the phone for a while; they might know his location by now. 

“If you go out as Red Hood, then backup is required at all times,” Bruce starts.  He continues over Jason's noise of protest.  “It doesn't have to be me.  But it can't be just Oracle.  It has to be with someone who can physically be with you.  And 'no omitting any information' means you don't either.  These … acquaintances of yours who keep coming into town … I need to know about them.  Who they are, how you know them, their threat levels, everything.”

Like that's happening.  It's not as if Jason knows who's going to be coming into town until after they're already here.  And no way is Jason giving Bruce a rundown of everyone he's met while he was at the League.  No fucking way. 

“If I know a friendly will be in town, I'll let you know,” Jason bargains.  “And, if you see a well-known name in town, you can ask if I know ‘em.  But I'm not giving you a dossier on every single person I know when the majority of them aren't going to end up relevant.  I don't have that kind of time to waste.”

“Fine,” Bruce replies, agreeing just as easily as the last time.  It puts Jason on edge.  “And the backup?”

Jason fights the sigh that wants to escape him.  He grits his teeth and reminds himself that a single person working next to him is going to be better than the continued stalking.  “Backup's fine.”

“Good.  Then tonight, you'll report in to the Batcave, we'll debrief, and-”

“No.  Absolutely not,” Jason blurts.  Because Bruce can shut all access to the Batcave and trap him there.  Because he didn't like going to the Batcave on his best days, and having a bounty hanging over his head definitely doesn't elicit anything he'd consider good days.  Because he doesn't want to have a debrief with Bruce face-to-face, not when there's so much Bruce will press for that isn't any of his business.

Not that Bruce will accept any of those as good reasons for Jason not to physically report in.  He comes up with something else. 

“I'm being hunted by the world's best trackers.  It's not safe for me to go anywhere you don't want people to know about,” Jason explains.  “I'll call you.  At this time. Everyday.  Different phone each time.  We can share information then.  If you come to my location, if you try to find me, then this team-up ends, and I'll go back to working on this thing on my own.”

“You're worried.”

The reply only serves to exacerbate Jason's irritation.  “You're the one who told me to take this seriously,” he snaps. 

“I did.  And I'm glad you are.  But you haven't been.  It can't have been the list of suspects you received last night, because you still weren't willing to work with us then,” Bruce says as he works through it.  “So what is it?  What happened this morning?”

“Nothing happened this morning,” Jason denies.  “Nothing substantial anyway.  Just finally had the time to reevaluate some things, is all.”

Because Slade was worried, and that worried Jason.  That's what the fuck happened this morning.  Not that he could ever tell Bruce that.

Bruce hums back at him, the note clearly displaying his disbelief, but he doesn’t argue any further.  “I looked into the list you were given last night.”  Jason is not at all surprised and decides to keep his comments about Bruce’s eavesdropping quiet.  “Waller is working on one of her sensitive projects.  You know the ones.”  And, yeah, Jason is well-acquainted with Waller’s suicide projects.  He’s sure Bruce knows exactly how much by now, since he found out Jason knows Deadshot with a friendly familiarity.  Jason still doesn’t answer back, keeping silent until Bruce decides to finally continue.  “She wouldn’t risk her new project by bringing attention to herself through a mercenary contract, no matter how well she thought she could hide it.  It’s safe to remove her from the list.”

Waller has already been removed from the list thanks to Slade’s work, but Jason can be generous and say that the extra confirmation, though wholly unnecessary, is appreciated.  “Okay,” Jason replies when it’s clear Bruce isn’t going to continue without prompting.  “You find out anything else?”

“I believe in this exchange, it’s your turn to share some information,” Bruce says.  It sounds like a warning.  “How do you know Wade Wilson?”

No way Jason wants to get into all that.  “We worked a few jobs together.  He likes me.  Thinks I’m funny.”

“He mentioned a cousin,” Bruce says before Jason can continue.

“He did,” Jason readily agrees before changing the subject.  “I have another name to add to our list.”

“The name that has you worried,” Bruce guesses.

And, no, it’s not.  Of all the names, Falcone is probably the least dangerous, but let Bruce believe that if it gets him off Jason’s back.  

“Turns out, Falcone’s come into some financial good luck,” Jason says instead of agreeing or disagreeing.  

“Falcone?  Carmine Falcone?”

As if there could be another Falcone.  Still, Jason answers.  “That’s the one.”

“And what about him makes you worried?”

Absolutely fucking nothing, if Jason’s going to be honest.  He’s not nearly as sadistic as Black Mask or as underhanded and intelligent as Penguin.  

“Nothing about him, specifically,” Jason answers.  “Just couldn’t help noticing a lot of our names are close to home.  Makes me think I might have more than just assassins to worry about.”

“You think someone’s going to set a trap for you.”

“It’s a possibility,” Jason allows.  “And, as much as I’d like to be, I can’t be everywhere all at once.  It’s three people just in Gotham alone, and I can’t watch all of them at once.”

“Even more reason that you go out with backup,” Bruce replies. 

Jason rolls his eyes even though Bruce isn’t in front of him to appreciate his annoyance.  “Yeah, notice how I didn’t argue that,” he grumbles.  “Have you found out anything else?”

“No,” Bruce admits.  “But I’ll start looking into Luthor with Robin. Batgirl and Oracle can investigate Black Mask, and Spoiler and Red Robin can investigate Penguin.  You will go with Nightwing and look into Falcone.”

Jason does not appreciate the orders.  Worse, he doesn’t miss that he gets assigned to the least threatening of their suspects.  But, it means four people are being investigated at once, and if the bats share their information, then it will be more help than what Jason can do alone.  He’ll play the game for now.  “Fine,” he agrees.  “I’ll call N tonight from a new number and we can plan a meeting spot.”  Then he hangs up, breaks his garbage phone in half, and throws it into the nearest dumpster before disappearing down an alley and back into the sewer system.  

Jason had forgotten just how annoying surveillance with Dick can be.  Mainly because the guy can’t sit still to save his life. 

“Didn’t you used to be a cop?” Jason snaps, looking away from his binoculars so he can glare at Dick while the showoff does a handstand along the edge of the roof.  “You know the point of stakeouts is to not bring attention to yourself, right?”

Dick jumps off his hands into a backflip and lands on his feet.  Because he’s a fucking show off.  He shrugs at Jason.  “You know no one ever looks up.”

Which is true.  It also proves how stupid most Gotham criminals are.  

“I know most people don’t look up,” Jason replies.  “I also know it would only take one person one second to glance up before our cover’s blown, thanks to your antics.  Can you just sit the fuck down and watch what’s going on?”

What’s currently going on is Falcone’s men unloading huge cargo crates from a docked ship and moving them into a nearby warehouse.  Jason’s willing to bet they have something to do with Falcone’s new finances.  He’s also willing to bet that whatever’s in them is very illegal, but he’s yet to see anyone open one of the crates so he can confirm.

Dick sighs before he finally sits down next to Jason.  “Not sure why you’re so into this.  Bringing in shipments is pretty true to form, Little Wing.  Nothing to do with you or your contract.”

Jason spares him a glance before he focuses back on what’s going on below them.  He’s on his stomach, flat against the roof, because he knows how to avoid being seen, even if someone does look up.  But Dick’s sitting instead of doing handstands, so it’s an improvement at least.  Jason doesn’t want to risk arguing about Dick getting more out of sight in case it makes him do the opposite.  “Maybe I’m interested in more than just my contract.  Maybe I want to shut Falcone’s shit down too.”

“I think we shouldn’t spread ourselves too thin,” Dick replies.  “It’ll just distract us from the bigger obstacle of solving your mercenary issue.”

Jason doesn’t reply to that, instead focusing on trying to get some information from all the blank crates being moved in front of him.  A shipping label on one would be absolutely fantastic, but so far all the crates have been suspiciously blank.

For a good long while, it’s blessedly silent.  Until there’s the sound of someone landing behind them on the same roof.  Jason sees Dick tense before the other man’s on his feet, weapons already out.  Jason follows a second behind him, but doesn’t bother bringing out any of his own weapons once he sees who their visitor is.  

“Cheshire,” Jason greets, keeping his voice light and easy as Dick stands beside him, tense and ready to launch into an attack at any moment.  “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Jade laughs.  “Don’t tell me I’m the first to try to cash in on that nice bounty you’ve got stuck on you.”

Dick moves to firmly plant himself between Cheshire and Jason, escrima stick already buzzing with electricity.  “I’d like to see you try,” he challenges.

Jason shoves at his shoulder.  “She’s not here to kill me, Birdbrain.  I’m her kid’s godfather for fuck’s sake.”

“You sound pretty confident,” Cheshire says before Dick can say anything.  “Doesn’t seem like the smartest move, considering my history.”

And maybe that’s the difference between heroes and villains.  Heroes are always trying to go above and beyond to prove they’re worth being a hero.  But the people who see themselves as villains always try to make people think the worst of them.  That way, when they do bad things, they’re just doing what everyone already expects them to do.  No big deal.  Just a mercenary being a mercenary.  Jason knows the game well, given how long he’s been dealing with it from Slade. 

And, hey, don’t get Jason wrong, there are definitely some bastards out there that will inflict pain just to inflict pain.  People who care about themselves and only themselves.  Jason knows that just as well.  He’s met plenty of that type, too, after all.  

But he also knows the difference between a true villain and a person who paints themselves as a villain because it’s the easiest way to get things done.  Because they have specific people and things to protect and aren’t out to save the world.  Because they know the term ‘hero’ is really just a cage that takes some choices they might need to make off the table.  He knows that good and well, too, given that he’d been one of those soft-hearted villains himself when he first came back to Gotham.  Shit, if pressed, he’d probably say he still is, especially given how many bodies he’s been feeding Waylon lately.    

And like understands like.  Jade’s no true villain.  She doesn’t inflict pain because she likes inflicting pain.  She has things and people and goals to protect and care about.  And, regardless of how much she denies it, Lian definitely falls into the category of people Jade protects and cares about.

“Do I think you’re willing to make your daughter cry for seven million dollars?” Jason asks without bothering to wait for her response.  “No, I don’t think you are.  Staking my life on it, actually.”  Then he sits down on the roof, legs crossed and hands in his lap.  It’s the most defenseless position he can think of without getting rid of any of his weapons.  

Maybe she does want to collect on his bounty.  But if she does, she confronted him with the sole objective of Jason giving her a fight so she’d have the excuse to kill him.  People underestimate how hard it is to kill a person who refuses to fight.  Well, the people with hearts, anyway.  Jason’s sure scumbags like Black Mask love nothing more than easy kills.  But Jade isn’t a scumbag.  

Jason’s proven right when she immediately sheaths both her daggers.  “You’re infuriating,” she huffs as she crosses her arms.  “And also an incredible moron.  You know how easy it’s been to kill you all night?  Stay off the fucking roofs, you idiot.”

And then she’s gone, jumping from the roof and disappearing down the streets.  

“Thought you hero types were supposed to be the ones with all that optimistic faith in people,” Jason tells his brother as he stands back up.  “Did I just show you up?”

Dick frowns at him.  “Yeah, congratulations.  My brother: the villain whisperer.  I’m so proud.”

“How much do I have to pay you to keep this from B?”

“Seven million dollars,” Dick shoots back with a grin.  “But she’s right.  Nothing substantial is happening down there, and it isn’t safe for you to be such an open target.  We should pack it in for the night.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and grumbles, but does give in to the suggestion.  He makes the necessary excuses to avoid the Batcave and heads into the sewers as soon as he’s confident Dick’s lost sight of him.

TBC

Chapter Text

In what is quickly becoming a familiar routine, Jason gets woken up with another call from Slade the next morning.  “Hey, babe,” he greets, because Jason’s half asleep and had been having a very appealing dream about the same man he’s now talking to, and he’s not thinking clearly enough not to let the pet name slip.  It’s not as if he’s never used a pet name for Slade before, but it’s always been delivered sarcastically.  And his half-asleep ‘babe’ sounds way too genuine, way too fond.  The realization that he’s just fucked up jolts him into sudden wakefulness.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Slade returns, sounding just as genuine and just as fond.  It makes a ripple of warmth run through Jason’s chest down to his stomach.  “You had a good night last night, then?”

“Pft.  No,” Jason snorts.  “Had to take Nightwing out with me if I wanted to get Batman’s help, and the guy can’t respect a proper stakeout to save his life.  But, with any luck, I’ll have some information on Luthor, Mask, and Penguin in a couple of hours when I report in.”

“And Falcone?”

Jason sighs.  “Bastard’s definitely up to something.  He’s got too much cargo coming in through the docks to just be running business as usual.  N wouldn’t let me close enough to investigate what he’s got coming in, though.  Doubt it’s got anything to do with me.  Or, if it does, I’m flattered at all the shit he thinks he needs to bring into the city just to kill me off.”

“I’ll see if I can’t get a shipping manifest.  The real one,” Slade offers.  “It’s best if you don’t go out for a while.  And I mean with or without the helmet.”

And that’s very concerning.  Jason’s worked with Slade on numerous jobs.  ‘Hide’ has never once been his response to danger.  “What’s-”

“Shiva picked up the contract,” Slade answers before Jason properly forms his question.  “I’m sending you someone.  Actual help.  Not that half-assed bat help that never actually takes care of the problem.”

Lady Shiva has picked up his contract.  Holy fucking shit.  It’s not good.  Lady Shiva is well-known for being nearly unkillable.  More than that, “Did you talk to her?” Jason asks quickly.  “Cass is here.  Is Shiva using my contract as an excuse to-?”

“I don’t know,” Slade interrupts before Jason can really start his spiral into anxiety.  “I talked to her, but you know how that bitch is.  It was all cryptic nonsense about fate and destiny and all that other shit she likes to yak about.”  The response is dark and angry, but Slade’s voice immediately softens as he continues.  “I didn’t mention Cass, but neither did she.  Still, since you’re working with the bats now anyway, probably best to warn her.  Then it’ll be up to her to decide what she wants to do about it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jason allows because the logic makes sense.  For all Slade’s known for being heartless, he really goes in for the whole autonomy thing.  It’s refreshing, after so many years of living under multiple people who don’t have the same type of respect for that sort of thing.  “You said you’re sending someone?” he asks next.  Because that means a mercenary, and the sooner Jason knows who’s coming, the more time he has to figure out a way to explain their presence to Bruce without the man flipping the fuck out about not wanting killers in his city. 

“Yes,” Slade confirms.  “I know you’re plenty capable, but with Shiva coming to town and the bats around to leash you, backup is something you’re going to need.”

Jason bristles at that, even as he admits to himself the truth of that statement.  He’s no match for Shiva, really, on any type of playing field, and he and Slade both know it.  It’s Slade’s way of being kind: blaming it on the bats not allowing Jason to kill as opposed to Jason lacking the skill to be able to take her out.  Reality of it is, he doesn’t know Shiva very well.  He has no idea what he could use or say or offer that would talk her out of killing him.  He’s met Shiva all of once, and they didn’t say much to each other past initial pleasantries.  He thinks maybe she’s friends with Talia, but Jason burned his bridge with Talia a long time ago.  And Slade probably knows it just as well as Jason does, since he’s not asking Jason to reach out to her as an intermediary.  

“Who’re you sending?” Jason asks instead as he shoves all his feelings regarding both Talia and Shiva inside a box and throws it to the back of his mind.  Feeling upset that he can’t stand up to Shiva himself isn’t going to change the reality of the situation.  And missing Talia doesn’t fix the fact that he abandoned the plan she helped him construct to take over Gotham over a year ago, and she hasn’t reached out since.  It's better if he focuses on things he can actually do something about. 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Slade admits.  “Someone you know and I trust.  I’m still reviewing our options.”

Not someone that Jason trusts.  He feels the flicker of annoyance at that before he realizes that Slade’s the mistrustful one between the two of them.  His list of trustworthy people is painfully short, even compared to Jason’s own short list.  And there’s no one on Slade’s list that isn’t also on Jason’s.  Though there is someone on Slade’s that he’d preferred not to have chaperone him, trustworthy or not.  “Please tell me there’s no chance of Rose stopping by,” Jason replies. 

Slade gives a single-syllable laugh.  “And give her all that alone time with you so she can remind you about all the reasons I’m a piece of shit?  I try not to shoot myself in the foot if I can help it.” 

Jason’s tempted to argue that.  Tell Slade that Rose wouldn’t spend the entire time talking badly about him, except he kind of thinks she would, if only to annoy them both.  He debates telling Slade he’s not a piece of shit instead, except, well, he can be, and they both know it.  And Slade’s definitely not going to take empty platitudes well.  So Jason decides not to say anything about it at all.  “You’ll tell me when you figure out who you’re sending?  It would be better if I could ease B into it before they get here.  Pretty sure he’s not taking all these relationships he keeps finding out about very well.”

“You sure he’s not?” Slade replies flatly.  “I haven’t heard that he’s kidnapped you and thrown you into one of those containment cells he has so he can interrogate you yet.”  His voice turns dark.  “But, if he does, you are still carrying my emergency tracker wherever you go, right?”

Jason rolls his eyes even as he fights to keep the smile off his face.  “Yes, Slade.  And I promise to activate it if he tries to hold me anywhere.  And I’ve been being careful.  He’s not going to find my base.”

“Sound pretty confident,” Slade hums.  “But revolving safehouses fail the first time he catches you going into one.”

“I’m not revolving safehouses.  Thought about that, but it’s too much work.  And too much of a risk when it’s more than just the bats looking for me,” Jason replies.  “Staying in the sewers.”

“The sewers,” Slade repeats flatly, sounding unimpressed.

Jason hums an affirmative.  “With Waylon.  He’s letting me crash for a bit.  Rent’s just a couple dead assassins, so it’s basically a win-win.”

“Staying in the sewers,” Slade sighs, clearly more concerned about the location rather than the fact that Jason’s staying with a known cannibal or the price of rent.  “Of course you’re staying in the sewers.  Why you’re so insistent on finding the worst accommodations for yourself at all times is something I’ll never understand.”

“Hey!” Jason exclaims, offended on Waylon’s behalf.  “Don’t just assume it’s a shithole.  It’s honestly pretty nice once you get past the smell, and Waylon’s been super nice about me staying here.  Got me a couch as a housewarming gift and everything.”

“You’re absolutely insane,” Slade replies, but he sounds fond as opposed to annoyed.  “You’ll stay off the streets until I find someone who can watch your back properly?”

Jason sighs.  “Yeah, but be fast about it, alright?  You know I don’t do well cooped up.”

Slade huffs out a laugh.  “Yeah, know that one too well.  Take care of yourself.  I’ll call you soon.”

“You too.  Be careful,” Jason replies back, knowing firsthand just how dangerous both Lex Luthor and Ra’s can be.  

A dial tone is the only answer to his request.  Typical Slade.   

Jason doesn’t actually stay in the sewers after his call with Slade, but he considers it a small risk, even knowing Shiva’s on her way to Gotham.  It’s just turning into afternoon, and most mercenaries aren’t going to hunt during the day, not even Shiva.  And, chances are, she isn’t here yet anyway.  Jason trusts Slade’s information network too much to think that he’d only found out about Shiva taking the contract after she arrived in Gotham.      

And Jason owes Bruce a phone call so they can trade information about everything that happened last night.  Even though he’s sure that Dick's already filled Bruce in on everything about Falcone and Cheshire.  Most importantly, Jason’s owed info on Black Mask, Penguin, and Luthor.  And he needs to warn Bruce about Shiva’s planned visit to town.  No way is Jason making that call in the sewers and potentially giving Bruce a free clue about where he’s been staying.

He also can’t trust that Bruce will warn Cass adequately.  Can’t trust that Bruce’ll give her all the information she deserves. 

So, Jason buys a new burner, ducks into a fairly empty dumpster, and calls someone else before making his call to Bruce.

“Jason,” Oracle greets on the other end, sounding exasperated already.  And how she knew it was him is something that he can’t even begin to fathom.  This is a brand-new burner with a brand-new number, and Jason hasn’t even said anything yet.  

“Oracle,” Jason greets back, not bothering to ask how she knew it was him.  The many mysteries of fucking Oracle.  “How ya been?”

“Better now that someone is no longer trying to ghost me,” Oracle quips back.  “Or, at least, I assume that’s the case,” she continues before Jason has the chance to apologize for dodging her calls.  “Because I know you wouldn’t dare have the audacity to call me for a favor after ignoring all my SOS requests just to then disappear off the map again after I do whatever it is you’re about to ask me to do.”

Jason cringes because, well, yeah, that is kind of what he’d been planning to do.  “You know how B is, O,” he replies.  He knows it’s dangerous to be unreachable, but it’s also dangerous for Bruce to know where he is while he’s doing his best impersonation of a helicopter parent.  “I can’t have him finding out where I’m staying.” 

“Well then, it’s a good thing I don’t report to Batman, isn’t it?” Oracle asks in a flat voice, likely annoyed with all the times she’s had to remind everyone of exactly that point.  “And while an open line of communication does allow me to track your location, it’s not a requirement.  I know you know that.”

“I do,” Jason replies.  “And I know you don’t answer to B, but you do work with him a lot.  You have to admit you were trying to find me at his request.  Don’t treat me like an idiot.”

“He did ask me to help find you,” Babs confirms.  “But I was also looking for you before that.  Because I found out about the price on your head, and I was concerned for my friend.”

Jason cringes again.  “Man, really pummeling me with those guilt trips today, aren’t you?” he can’t help but mutter. 

“Seeing as how I’ve been worried half to death about you for days,  I feel like I’m entitled to,” Babs replies.

“Fair,” Jason says with a sigh.  “Once I get back to my place, I’ll text you from my more permanent number.  But no tracking me unless you have serious reason to believe I’m in danger.”

“Fair,” Oracle repeats in agreement.  “Deal then.  Now!  What can the great and powerful Oracle do for you today?”

“One of my sources has reason to believe that Shiva’s picked up my contract and is heading to Gotham,” Jason answers, cutting right to the point.  “They couldn’t confirm if she’s coming for any other reasons, but I wanted to make sure Batgirl knew.”

“Hood,” Babs replies, a tone of warning in her voice.  “Please do not tell me that this is something you plan on keeping from Batman.”

“B doesn’t know,” Jason admits.  “Yet.  But he will.  I owe him a debriefing on last night anyway.  Was going to call him after you.  But B’s not always upfront about giving people news he knows they aren’t going to take well, and BG deserves to know about Shiva.”

Babs sighs.  “Agreed.  I’ll make sure she knows.  Thank you for calling and letting me know.  And I’ll make sure she knows that she has you to thank for the information.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Jason replies.  “Pretty sure getting bad news isn’t something anyone wants to be thanking someone for.  Just make sure she’s okay and takes care of herself.”

“Yeah, she isn’t the only one that needs to be careful here,” Babs says, the warning tone back in her voice.  “If Shiva’s picked up your contract-”

“I know,” Jason interrupts.  “I’m taking measures, alright?  I’m being careful.  And I won’t be out tonight.  Going to keep my head down for a bit.  You’ll monitor international flights and let me know if you see her?”

“I will,” Babs agrees.  “As long as you promise you won’t go after her alone if you know where she is.”

Jason snorts.  “Come on, O.  I may be a little reckless sometimes, but I’m not a fucking idiot.  I can guess how a fight between us would end, and it’s definitely not in my favor.”

“Good,” Babs says firmly.  “Anything else I can do for you?”

And, well, Batman should tell him when Jason calls in, but, since he’s already got Babs on the line, “Yeah, actually.  You and BG kept Mask company last night, right?  Find anything worthwhile?”

“Nope.  Same old, same old,” Babs replies.  “Smuggled in some drugs, threatened his underlings, and spent the rest of the night ranting to the woman assistant he has about how he deserves more respect.  There's no proof he’s working with Penguin, as your source seems to think.  Similar story from Red Robin and Spoiler on Penguin’s side.  He worked at the Lounge all night, with no mention of Black Mask and no sign of any False Faces.  But we’ll continue working on it.  One night with no contact between them doesn’t prove anything.”

“I hear ya, O,” Jason replies.  It’s true, of course, but the proof would have been nice.  Especially since, even if they are working together, that still isn’t enough proof that they’re the ones responsible for putting up Jason’s contract.  It would just be proof that they had the funds to be able to.  It’s just as likely that they’re working together for some other shithead purpose.  “Keep me informed?”

“As soon as I get that permanent number, Hood,” Babs answers cheerily.  “Oracle out.”

Jason takes a deep breath before making his next call, knowing it’ll require a lot more patience than the one with Oracle.     

“Hood,” Bruce greets on the second ring.  “I was beginning to suspect you weren’t going to keep up your half of our deal.”

Jason rolls his eyes and tries to keep the irritation out of his voice.  Kind of regrets that he’s sitting in a dumpster for this call and can’t pace off his irritation like he wants to.  But it’s also a stupid idea to be walking around on the street when he knows Shiva’s on her way to Gotham.  “I had some things to check into before I could give you a full report,” he explains instead of getting into a fight about Bruce not trusting him enough.  

“Okay,” Bruce replies slowly.  “And what is your full report?”

“Nothing special to report on last night,” Jason answers because Dick would have already told him about Cheshire and the big fat nothing they found to tie Falcone to Jason’s contract.  He takes a breath and forces out the important part.  “But I’ve got a source who’s pretty confident Shiva picked up my contract and is on her way into town.”

“Who’s your source?”

Jason freezes at the absurdity of the question.  There’s silence for a few seconds as Bruce waits for him to respond, and Jason tries to make sense of what the fuck is happening.  “My source?  Why the fuck would you care about that?  Did you hear who I just said picked up my contract?”  

“I did, yes.  That’s precisely why I asked about your source,” Bruce explains calmly.  “Because Lady Shiva doesn’t pick up civilian contracts.  I’d like to know for myself whether your source is reliable or not before I take the threat seriously.”

“It’s a reliable, confidential source,” Jason snaps back.  “I trust them.  And I’m telling you, it’s a credible threat.  I shouldn't need to tell you anything more than that.” 

“I think it’s good you’re taking the threat seriously,” Bruce says, in the same way a parent would tell their five-year-old, ‘I think it’s good you’re telling me about little Jack pulling little Annie’s pigtails, but I don’t actually care, and I’m not actually going to do anything about it’.  “I do think it would be best if you stayed off patrol until we know for sure whether Lady Shiva is someone we need to be immediately concerned about.  And the manor is always open to you if you would feel safer here.  I will look into things on my end and let you know if I can confirm what your source has told you.”

Jason tries to give Bruce the benefit of the doubt even as his blood boils at not being taken seriously.  If Jason didn’t fully trust his source, then Bruce confirming things would be a good thing.  It’d be appreciated.

Except Jason’s source is Slade.  And not only does Jason fully trust Slade, but as a rule, Slade never gives away information unless he’s one hundred percent certain of it.  Slade doesn’t need to be fucking fact-checked.  

But there’s no way in fucking hell that Jason’s revealing to Bruce that his source is Slade.  

“Fine then.  Confirm it before I call in tomorrow, and we can plan what to do about Shiva then,” Jason says instead of the ranting and raging he really, really wants to participate in.  He forces himself to move forward instead.  “What did you find on Luthor?”    

Bruce ignores the question because he’s an asshole.  “And what about Cheshire?  When were you going to tell me about her?” he asks, like he’s caught Jason in some kind of lie.

“Cheshire is a non-issue.  High chance she’s not even in town anymore, and, if she is, she’s not a threat to me,” Jason answers as calmly as he can.  “And N said he was going to tell you about her, so I didn’t see the point in reiterating anything.  Especially when we’ve got a much bigger threat headed our way.” 

“It’s important to get a debrief from different sides.  Everyone has a different perspective,” Bruce says in full lecture mode.  “And I’d like to get yours on Cheshire.”

Holy fuck, as if Jason has time for this bullshit.  He holds back his growl of frustration and ends up clenching his jaw instead.  He answers through gritted teeth.  “As I said, she’s a non-issue.  She may not be my biggest fan, but she knows her daughter loves me, and she’d never do anything to purposely upset her kid.  What’d you find out about Luthor?”

Bruce, unsurprisingly and irritatingly, ignores the question again.  “Nightwing seemed to have a different opinion on her threat levels.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jason snaps.  “He was very clear on those.  You asked for my perspective, and I gave it.  If you wanna ignore it and believe whatever the fuck Dick had to say about it, then go ahead and do that from the beginning, and don’t waste my time forcing me to give an opinion you aren’t going to care about in the first place.  I don’t have time to be dicking around with you.  The more time I spend on the phone with you, the more I risk my location.  Now, what the fuck did you get on Lex Luthor?”

Bruce, once again, ignores the question.  “If you aren’t in a secure location, then you need to come to the Batcave and report in properly.”

It’s such a load of bullshit.  Like Bruce has been waiting for the chance to remind him that his stupid ass basement is more secure than a phone call.  Like Jason doesn’t fucking know that.  Except, Jason also hasn’t forgotten how Bruce forces people into the positions and situations he wants them in.  And Bruce wants Jason safe and secure in the manor.  And Jason knows Bruce well enough to know that ‘safe’, ‘secure’, and ‘trapped’ are all synonyms for him.  So, no, Jason will not be setting foot in the manor or in the Batcave until this whole thing is over.  

And if he has to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of information Bruce gives him, then Jason doesn’t need to be talking to him.  Doesn’t need to uphold his end of the deal if Bruce isn’t going to operate his end in good faith.  

Jason’s talking to Babs again.  And she might not report to Batman, but she’s present for all the debriefs at the end of patrols.  He can get his information on what they’ve uncovered and what they’re doing for the night from her.  He’s got Slade and Stark working to dig up info, and Deadshot and Cheshire promised to keep an eye out.  Slade’s finding him a trustworthy guy to play backup for him this very second.  

He’s got people.  He doesn’t fucking need Batman.

“You know what?  Deal retracted,” Jason snaps.  “If you aren’t going to give me anything worthwhile, then I’ve got other sources to invest my time in.”  He hangs up without waiting for a reply.  Then he snaps his phone in half, leaves it in the dumpster he’s been sitting in for over a fucking hour and slips back into the sewers.

Jason spends the next few hours on his couch, his laptop in his lap as he scrolls through news articles about the current movements of Lex Luthor and tries his best to mentally prepare himself for a quiet night of doing nothing while there’s a seven-million-dollar contract on his head.

Then Waylon reminds him that tonight is poker night.  It feels like a gift when he’s already having trouble stopping himself from pacing circles around his mattress.  

On the other hand, the actual participants are suddenly a lot more important if Jason is going to be sticking around, as opposed to just sweeping in to say ‘hi’.  

“So, this poker game,” Jason starts.  “What’s the likelihood of there being anyone there who’s gonna want to kill me?”

Waylon laughs.  “Why?  You been pissing a lot of people off lately?”

Jason grins back and shrugs.  “I wouldn’t say lately, no.”  Current overly high contract notwithstanding.  “But you never know who’s going to hold a grudge.”

“Well, either way, it’s nothing to worry about,” Waylon replies with a sharp-toothed smile.  “Long-standing rules for sewer poker: anybody who causes problems, I eat.”

Jason laughs back.  “Good enough,” he decides.  It might be worth it to have someone cause a ruckus over Jason being there, just to see what Waylon would do.  It’d be good entertainment for the night at least. 

If pressed for who Jason thought would turn up at the poker game, he would have said the majority of people there would be high-level goons he’d never bothered to learn the names of.  Maybe some of the more sane-ish rogues.  Clayface maybe.  Havey Dent.  Freeze.  At a stretch, Jason could imagine the Riddler making an appearance.  If the poker game isn’t confined to the sexist idea that a nightly poker game is only for men, then maybe Harley, Ivy, or Selina would be there.  

Ivy is there, and so is Dent.  But those are the only two Jason had managed to guess correctly, including the fact that there isn’t anyone here who isn’t well known.

He’s glad he decided to wear his helmet and attend as Red Hood as opposed to some weird, unknown friend of Waylon’s like he’d been debating.  

Scarecrow’s in attendance, along with Zsasz, both of which have Hood thankful for Waylon’s rule about eating anyone who causes a problem.  Then he notices Black Mask and is even happier for Waylon’s poker game rules.

Maybe he can even use this as an opportunity to dig into Roman’s new relationship with Penguin and figure out if the two are to thank for the contract on his head.  

“We can’t all actually be fine with someone wearing a helmet while playing poker,” Black Mask says as soon as he sees him, which is a very different reaction than what Hood’s been expecting.  He was pretty sure Roman was going to kick up a fuss about him being here at all, as opposed to just complaining that his helmet gives him an unfair advantage.  

Then he realizes that the complaint is probably just a ploy to unmask him, and he’s not as surprised.

“I think it’s ironic that it’s you making the complaint,” Punisher says, and that’s another surprise: that Frank Castle would be in attendance.  Especially considering that most of these people fall into the category of people whom Frank would definitely like to kill.  “What with the expressionless mask you always wear.  If we aren’t counting that as an advantage, I don’t know why we wouldn’t count a helmet in the same category.”  He gives Jason a nod but doesn’t do or say anything else to acknowledge him.  

It’s not altogether comforting, given that Jason and Frank used to have some sort of relationship between them.  If not friends, then at least friendly.  And then suddenly, with no explanation, Frank just stopped replying or reaching out.  So Jason’s not really sure where that leaves them.  

“My mask can’t be removed,” Roman snaps, doing his best attempt at a glare as he stares Frank down.  

Frank just shrugs at him.  “I’d be happy to help you out with that, Sionis.  Waylon’s just gotta lift his rule about the no bodily harm during poker night thing.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.  Maybe just for a little bit.  Twenty, thirty minutes tops,” Zsasz says, and when Jason turns to look, the psychopath is looking right at him.  “Just enough time to give us a little extra entertainment for the evening.”  Zsasz smirks at him before licking his lips.  

“Alright, keep it in your pants, Clockwork Orange,” Jason says with a grimance no one else can see.  There’s an open seat next to the other man that Jason very much avoids, opting instead to sit between Waylon and Dent, right across from Black Mask.  

“I could eat you in under a minute,” Waylon says, leaning over so Zsasz is no longer within Jason’s eyeline.  “If you think that’s enough time for some entertainment, then be my guest.”

Waylon’s a good guy.  Jason can’t help but smile at the protectiveness.  It’s unnecessary, and Jason would never admit to liking it; he doesn’t exactly like to like it, but he can’t help that he does.  

“If this is going to devolve into some pissing contest involving who can out-violence who, then I’m going home,” Scarecrow sniffs as if he’s the epitome of a well-developed citizen.  

“You’re just sore because you were first out last time,” Ivy replies.  “And then when you tried to throw a tantrum, Harvey socked you in the mouth.”

“Should thank me for that,” Harvey breaks in, the unburnt side of his face grinning.  “If I hadn’t stopped you, then he would’ve.”  He jerks his thumb towards Waylon.  “And you know you wouldn’t have survived that.”

Waylon shrugs.  “I would’ve been faster to eat you, but, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t actually looking forward to it all that much,” he tells Scarecrow.  “You look like you’d taste bitter.”

“I do not,” Scarecrow argues, looking offended.  “You just think that because of the fear gas, but I’m not the one who’s breathing it in.  It’s for other people, not for me.”

“Or maybe he just thinks you’d taste bitter because that’s your normal disposition,” Ivy says before cackling at her own joke.

“That true?” Jason asks, looking toward Waylon and receiving a shrug.  “So, how do you think Roman tastes?  Salty?”

Ivy devolves into more laughter.  

“Wonder what cocky upstart tastes like,” Roman growls at Jason.  

“Now, be honest with us, Waylon,” Zsasz says with a smile.  “Do you or do you not enjoy people that taste like cock?  Me?  I think I might like it.”

And Jason still can’t see him, thanks to how Waylon’s positioned himself, but he doesn’t think he’s off base to assume that the murderous psycho is looking his way again.  

“Not sure if you’re implying rape or cannibalism, but I’m actually against both,” Harvey says, the burnt side of his face warping into a snarl as he glares at Zsasz.  

“We here to talk morals, or we here to play poker?” Frank asks.  “Cause I’ve got news for you, if we’re here to talk morals, I find all of you severely lacking.”

Jason doesn’t think he imagines Frank’s gaze pausing on him as he looks around the table.  

Bruce stays at the Batcomputer instead of joining patrol that night.  He’s still going to attend patrol, but he has some things to figure out first.  Mainly, if Shiva really is on her way to Gotham.  And, once he confirms that, who she possibly could have told about it, that would have then told Jason.  Lady Shiva doesn’t have friends, and the few people she associates with are all dangerous people who shouldn’t be trusted.  

Except Jason trusts his source.  Trusts his source so much that he had yelled at Bruce for not trusting Jason enough.  Trusts his source so much that he’s voluntarily staying in tonight, which is even more telling.  

Given the type of people Bruce has recently found out Jason trusts, it doesn’t amount to anything good.  Especially since the first thing Bruce did was confirm that Deadshot, Cheshire, and Deadpool aren’t associates of Shiva’s.  Which means there’s at least one more deadly mercenary out there who has his son’s trust. 

Bruce still can’t find any information on this Bulldog person or locate any lead on a possible cousin of Deadpool, which just rachets up his anxiety even more. 

Dick had replayed his cowl footage of the night before for Bruce when he had come back from patrol.  Jason’s words to Cheshire play on repeat in his head. 

Do I think you’ll kill me for seven million dollars?  No, I don’t think you are.  Staking my life on it, actually. 

He had made the declaration before making himself practically defenseless by sitting down on the ground, right in front of the armed assassin who had just told him that she was there to kill him.  And Jason keeps doing it; giving these villains complete and utter trust that they won’t kill him.  Trust that he doesn’t give to Bruce.  And Bruce has been trying very hard not to show how much that absolutely cuts at him.  

But maybe it’s not actually about trust.  Jason has always been one to press his luck.  Walking into danger just to prove he could walk out.  Bruce had yelled at him for it while he was Robin multiple times.  Until one day, he walked into a danger he wasn’t able to walk out of.

It should have taught him something.  It should have made Jason more cautious, but it has had the opposite effect.  He’s more determined to play with fire than ever before.  Like he’s trying to prove that Ethiopia was a fluke.  

But Jason doesn’t have to prove anything.  He just needs to keep himself alive. 

“Not going out on patrol tonight, sir?” Alfred asks in confusion.  And the fact that Bruce hadn’t heard him come down the stairs is a testament to how lost in his thoughts he’d become.  

“After I do some research,” Bruce explains, not bothering to look away from his work at the Batcomputer.  

“Research on Talia, sir?” Alfred asks, leaning over Bruce’s shoulder to look at the screen.

When Bruce turns to face him, Alfred raises an unimpressed eyebrow.   “It’s for Jason,” he explains.

Alfred just hums at him and doesn’t move away.  

“I need some information on Lady Shiva, and Talia is the best source I have,” Bruce reluctantly continues. 

The information causes Alfred’s eyes to widen slightly.  “Do you really believe that someone like Lady Shiva would pick up Master Jason’s contract?  She isn’t known for going after civilians.”

Bruce sighs as he rubs his forehead.  “I don’t know,” he admits.  “I’m also beginning to question how much of Jason’s civilian identity is really a civilian.”  He shakes his head as Alfred remains quiet.  “After listening to his conversation with Deadpool, I just …”  He turns to his butler, and then, suddenly, all the anxiety that has been growing since learning that his son has a too-familiar relationship with Deadpool comes spilling out.  “I thought Deadpool was coming after him because of the contract,” Bruce admits quietly.  “Clark had called to warn me about him coming into Gotham, and I tried to get to Jason as fast as I could.  But I wasn’t fast enough.  I watched him cut Jason’s grapple before he hurled his sword at him like he was trying to kill him, and then they both just …just laughed about it.  Like the risk didn’t matter.  They both were treating the contract the same way.  Deadpool congratulated him, as if having a high contract was something to be proud of.  He spoke about dictators as if they were fun opponents, and then implied that Jason has done the same.  And Jason implied that he has experience in taking down governments.  When would he have even done that?  Deadpool made mention of Jason stealing something from Lex Luthor and then reselling it to someone else.  I never remember Jason ever being in Metropolis in the first place.  Clark would have told me if he had seen him there.  How could he have possibly stolen anything from Lex Luthor without Clark knowing about it?  And, he’s apparently dating Deadpool’s cousin.  A man I can’t find any trace of, which is even more worrying than Deadpool's cousin being another mercenary or assassin.  What kind of man is he, not to even have a civilian identity?  And why has Jason never mentioned any of it to me?  He’s always so secretive, and then he gets upset when I assume things.  As if he’s giving me any other choice!”

It’s only after he’s done and looking into Alfred’s steady gaze that he realizes exactly how much he’s just said.  How much he’s been ranting about his worries concerning Jason.  How heavily he’s breathing thanks to the anxiety overtaking him.    

Alfred continues to look at him steadily for another few seconds before saying, “Yes, I wonder what that would be like: raising a young man who keeps even the simplest of things to himself.”  He gives Bruce a pointed look.   

And Bruce knows he’s not always upfront with the information he has, but that’s different.  Bruce keeps Batman's business private.  It’s necessary, in order to protect the people closest to him.  If Jason were doing the same thing, Bruce would be able to understand that.  But that’s not the case.  He and Jason are father and son, but Jason hasn’t even shared anything personal about his life with him.  “It’s not the same!"  He searches for another example of the problem he's currently facing.  "Did you know Jason is Lian’s godparent?”

Alfred doesn’t so much as blink.  “I did know that, yes.”

“He … he told you?”  Why is Jason telling Alfred things but not Bruce?

But Alfred crushes that worry.  “He did not.  Just like you never told me that Master Jason was alive.”

That’s not true.  “No, I …” Except Bruce can’t actually remember telling Alfred about Jason.  He had been so preoccupied with gathering information and trying to discover what had happened to his son that he hadn’t factored anyone else into the equation.  Guilt floods over him as he realizes that it’s true.  Bruce had never told Alfred.  He's so used to Alfred just knowing that he hadn’t even thought about taking a moment during his investigation to deliver the news to the other man. 

Alfred squeezes his arm before Bruce can get too sucked into the guilt.  “I think you should both try not to assume the other always has ill intentions.  Sometimes people just get swept up in themselves.”

And Bruce knows Alfred’s talking about him just as much as he’s talking about Jason.  He has to admit that the man’s right on both points.  “Yes, you’re right,” Bruce replies quietly.  “Of course, you’re right.”

“On the bright side,” Alfred says, “sharing so many of the same qualities should make it easy for you to put yourself in Master Jason’s shoes.  Take the extra time to put yourself in his position and think about how you would respond to you if you weren’t privy to your intentions.”

Bruce nods his head as he sighs.  “I don’t know what I would do without you, Alfred.”

Alfred sniffs at him.  “Starve, I’m sure,” he says before sliding a plated sandwich onto the desk.  

Bruce watches him walk off and thinks about the actual necessity of patrol for the night.  The rest of the family is already out, and it’s been calm so far.  Bruce doesn’t think they’d miss him if he faked a Justice League emergency and disappeared to Metropolis for a few days. 

Clark’s always been good at helping him with things that are more interpersonal in nature, and he can admit that some help wouldn’t be ill-placed. 

Poker is, amazingly, a lot of fun.  Scarecrow proves to be a lot more laid back when he’s not in the midst of one of his fear experiments.  Harvey flips a coin only to determine his next move at the poker table as opposed to using his coin to answer any nefarious questions.  Ivy goes on a single rant about humans deserving death for killing so much plant life, but settles back down before she can start issuing any real death threats.  Waylon remains oddly protective over him, which Jason keeps trying and failing to feel annoyed by.  

Frank keeps shooting him weird looks Jason can’t decipher.  Zsasz is a creep of epic proportions.  And Black Mask hasn’t given anything away about his new partnership with Penguin other than ‘it’s going great’, ‘you aren’t invited’, and ‘no, I will not tell you what we’re doing, but you’re sure to be blown away ’.

So, something to do with explosions, probably.  Or maybe they are the ones responsible for the contract on Jason’s head, and the only thing that’s set to explode is him.  

Scarecrow is the first one out, which, given the amount of pointed remarks about it, is a common phenomenon.  Waylon cashes out as soon as Zsasz loses all his money, and if the smirk and wink Waylon gives Jason is any indication, making sure Zsasz leaves broke had been his only goal of the night.  Ivy’s next out, followed closely after by Jason himself, his straight losing devastatingly to a straight flush from Harvey.  

“It’s getting late,” Frank says, looking at Jason as Harvey scrapes up his winnings with a grin wide enough to encompass both sides of his face.  “Let me walk you home.” 

It sounds like a threat, especially given all the pointed looks Frank’s been shooting him all night.  Moreover, Black Mask appears very interested in the prospect of Jason leaving the safety of what has proven to be the very firmly established rules of poker night.  And Jason’s technically already home.  At his temporary home.  Whatever.  He’s got a bed here.  Had planned on sleeping here.  He has no reason to leave.  But Jason’s always had a hard time not taking threats as challenges.

“That’s mighty gentlemanly of you,” Jason replies to Frank, ignoring Waylon’s worried look.  “Enough to get a lady swooning.”

Punisher smirks back at him.  “You know me.  Just filled with that country boy charm.”

Jason knows it’s not a good idea.  It’s the middle of the night.  Shiva could already be in Gotham hunting for him.  Black Mask definitely looks interested in following him out.  And Frank walking him anywhere means that Jason’s giving him the location of one of his safehouses.  So, he should really turn Frank down.  Tell him he’s spending the night with Waylon, implications of that particular statement be damned.  

But he’s also too interested in exactly what made Frank fall off the map all those months ago.  And Frank definitely has something to say to him, since he’s offering to see him out.  

“Well, if you’re so insistent,” Jason says instead of deciding to do the smart thing.  

Frank grins at him and gets cashed out.

Jason hears Waylon’s threat as they leave about eating anyone who follows them out.  It takes care of his worry about Black Mask.  And, fuck it, Jason lets himself be charmed.  He makes a mental promise to visit Waylon more often once this whole stupid contract business is finally taken care of.      

They’re topside, walking along the darkened streets of Crime Alley before Frank says anything else.   

“So, seven mil', huh?  You sure must’ve pissed someone off real good.”

Maybe Jason shouldn’t be surprised Frank knows about the contract.  He’s always been good at knowing what’s going on with the criminals, despite taking pleasure in killing any of them he comes across.  But it does raise another red flag regarding the entire situation.  Jason can’t help but worry that Frank got him away from the poker game specifically to kill him off.  He shoves the thought down.  Frank may be a killer, but he still adheres to a strict moral code.  Morals he wouldn’t break just for a paycheck, no matter how large the payout. 

“I wasn’t aware you were a mercenary now,” Jason replies instead of voicing any of his fears.  He forces himself to remain loose.  Reminds himself that he’s decked out in his Red Hood attire, complete with all the armor and weapons that come with it.  “Thought you were more the type to kill the killers.”

Frank shrugs at him, loose in a way that looks manufactured.  “Well, when the person people are trying to kill is a crime lord, I tend to keep out of it.”  He smirks but doesn’t stop walking.  “Either that, or I help.”  

So that’s not great.  Still, Jason forces himself not to rachet up the tension.  Stays as light-hearted as he can make himself.  “Oh, yeah?  You going to be a problem, Castle?”

Frank shrugs again.  “Been thinking about it.  Weighing the pros and cons.”

It’s not the type of reply Jason’s been hoping for. 

And Jason can’t help but notice how his heartbeat picks up at what Frank’s implying.  He’s glad the other man isn’t a meta and can’t hear how much Jason has been affected by his comment.  “How am I coming out so far?”

“Lacking.”

Well fuck.  Jason mentally prepares himself for a fight even as he keeps his tone light.  “Ouch.  And after all that info trading we did a few years ago.  I thought I was more than helpful back then.  And need I remind you that you’re the one who shut that shit down?  I was more than happy with our arrangement.  If you need more reasons in the pro column, then let’s open our lines of communication back up.”

Frank’s smirk grows.  “Sounds like you’re trying to bribe me with information.  Don’t think you can take me?”

Jason shrugs back.  “Not really a bribe when I’d expect you to reciprocate by sharing what information you have on your end.  And just because I’d rather have an ally than a fight on my hands doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.  It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.  I’d offer to start it back up with or without the bounty on my head.”

“I was only open to the arrangement because I didn’t know what kind of man I was sharing my information with,” Frank explains, suddenly sounding serious instead of teasing. 

Jason doesn’t bother holding back his snort.  “That’s some black-and-white thinking.  What?  You can kill and still be a man of strong moral fiber, but I can’t be a crime lord and do the same?”

“You kill people, too,” Frank points out.  “Meanwhile, I don’t pedal drugs or weapons.”

“I only have a hand in the drug business to make sure they aren’t laced or getting sold to minors,” Jason explains.  “Had you asked when you found out what I was doing, I would have told you that.  And I only kill people who try to kill me these days.”

“These days,” Frank repeats in a mutter.  

“I’ve never killed someone you would’ve been upset about,” Jason assures him.   “It’s like you have no faith in me.”  He doesn’t realize until after he says it that he sounds hurt.  Fuck.  It’s not at all how he’d meant it to come out. 

But maybe it works in his favor because now Frank’s looking at him like he’s puzzling him out all over again.  They walk a block in silence before Frank says anything else.  “Okay,” he finally says, his voice slow.  “We can reopen those communication channels.  But if I find out you’re using innocent people for your own gain, I plan on cashing in on that contract.”

Jason shrugs against the threat.  “Sure.  I don’t do fucky shit like that, so no skin off my nose if you wanna make yourself my glorified babysitter.  Just don’t be surprised if I start calling you Batman Jr.”

Frank scoffs and shoves him, but he’s grinning.  

TBC