Taking place in the Narrows, after Batman's death, Jason Todd takes himself from retirement to his familiar line of work. Ending his restful years so he can find the man who stole his car, to get back a letter hidden in the car. But what ends up bei...
The narrows. A place of unholy equities, where saying bless you was replaced by a shootout. It rained on the crowded apartments. Not much to look at, unless you viewed the sky, where buildings were more gothic than the night time sky. He printed his name on a slip, and went towards the bank teller.
"I'd like to make a deposit." Jason entering the scene.
The bank teller frowned at the hundred filled band given to him. Obviously Jason was well off, able to provide such funds a day. This would've been typical in main Gotham. But here in the narrows such money told a story. An unjust one.
"That's fine. Here's your money is welcome here." The bank teller taking the cash.
They worked out the finer details. Jason knew men like this would be the first to cower, and duck. The guards were amateurs in his opinion, they held no real intimidation against the streets. Jason put his hands, hands meant for snapping necks and choking people out, instead went inward to his coat. He decided today unlike any other day was special. He knew tomorrow was. He just couldn't wait to get his hands on it.
It had been on his mind for an entire week. Life was good. He would be turning 40 come tomorrow. But first he needed to write a check. He sat between two people. Both whom were eying him down, most likely the coat. Or they had seen the money. He pushed his frustration that had been waiting to let out since he got here, aside and wrote a check to his friend Barbara.
At his apartment where plenty of men dropped dead, in pursuit of wealth or any other. He flicked on the switch. The skylight suddenly unsealed itself. The lights brought color to a room that held his eye for more than just its shadows. The entire city of the narrows could be against him, and if he sat in here he'd probably win.
He opened some mail. Nothing of value, or key interest, just some vote letter from a new head of Gotham. Some unknown element was carried by this man, Jason snarled wondering how long they'd keep pumping this garbage at him. One by one mail fell to the garbage. He then stood at his second 1960's Impala. Until a black piece of weaponry fell from the glass. Inhaling the smoke from said piece, he stumbled one leg forward, the next on his knee, and his face on the ground.
1 Day Later
Jason had awoke to his apartment raided. The sheer shock he felt could replace an entire horror film. He had come to his bed awoke. They had left everything exact, except for the car. This crushed any hopes of today helping him out of a long depression. A letter from Bruce not to be opened until he were 43.
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He pushed his finger against a wall. A blew circle appeared underneath him. The wall slid up that he'd hoped never would be used. Entering the doorway he saw the cameras were all one tapped. By a gun. He punched a hole through a computer screen. He noticed something out of base besides the bullet ridden computers.
Picking up the hair he went straight for Wayne manner. Waiting outside in his remaining 1960's Chevy Impala. Barbara came outside with Damian.
"I don't wanna talk to you Jason." Damian said in a manner that pushed Jason's brow lower.
"Good I aint talking to you." Jason turning to face to Barbara.
"What's the matter this time? You gambled yourself into a drunken stupor, Jason. We can't have talks like this anymore." Barbara questioning him with an unwelcoming but somewhat friendly voice. As though she were both delighted by his visit, but a bit annoyed.
"No. Someone stole the letter Bruce laid out for me. I gotta find it back. Done by some guys who don't know how to carry a gun right. Probably misfire on themselves. Street level punks with high grade gear they got from thirty minutes of stealing." Jason said after remembering his phone kept a film.
He looked back to the road then Barbara.
"Jason we're not personal investigators... Was it military?" Barbara asked forgetting how much their friendship meant.
"Nah local street grade. You'd swear these guys are amateurs, guy might've pulled the trigger on his friend, didn't know how to steer clear of his aim. These guys are the type of guys you walk around with and make you feel like you're a grade A English student, just based on how they speak. Kind of idiots who are gonna die once I get my hands on an AR15. They'd probably think I'm shaking their hand once I find em." Jason let out as much as he could.
Barbara had enough serial killer ASMR.
"Ok enough. You got any leads." Barbara asked.
"You know me by now. Come on. I always did reconnaissance back in the day." Jason replied.
"Weren't you retired?" Damian asked in an aggressive tone.
"Weren't you not talking to me?" Jason grinning at Damian's face of annoyance.
"Enough!" Barbara yelled.
They both sat saving their anger for another time. Jason walked from the main hall, up some stairs, to a secret elevator. Jason's face fixed itself into its natural portrayal. They got lab work done and the hair sample went into a data base and Selina Kyle aka Catwoman popped up.
"What are you going to do Jason?" Barbara said before seeing how the screen had an effect on him.
"I know what kind of woman she is. Unreliable, always dragging you in to take whats yours. I wouldn't leave her alone for a second, not because she's pretty, no, because she's not to be trusted, I wouldn't trust her in my house even if I had a 10 dollar bill as my savings. She thinks the work it takes to steal an item is the worth it took for it to be bought. She needs to be shown how she's more small, tiny, insignificant when an M16 is put to her face. She'd probably think she could steal a second chance from me, like all these sorry ass excuses of people do. I only give the one." Jason lighting a cigarette.
"Well that's something you can do." Damian said.
"Damian what's the matter with you." Barbara said.
"He's smart unlike these clowns on the street. Holding guns they've never practiced with. Bunch of weirdos with no jobs." Jason leaving the mansion in a harsher tone.
