The Reds And The Robins

8) Classics Puns Are Out, All Bets Are Off

Jason had two guns out in hand immediately, safeties flicked off. He looked around the warehouse swiftly, one side to the next. Joker was a showman, like Dick, and Jason despised that comparison to ridiculous extents but it was true. And this, Tim was chained to a fucking chair in the centre of the warehouse.

It was a shitty chair.

One of the light brown, wooden ones that were easy to tip over but impossible to break. Links of silver glistened in the warehouse's over-white lighting. It was a really shitty chair and Jason's brother was fucking chained to it.

"Robin? Report." Jason growled once he couldn't see Joker. The kid was bleeding from somewhere, possibly h seeis thigh and that could be a problem. Tim gasped for air, then did what he did best and ignored any issues with himself. "Joker just left, ran. Dunno what his plan is. I don't think the knife got an artery, but it got fairly close. I think Harley's broken things off with him, like, good for her."
"Any traps?" Jason said.
"Don't think so but don't think I'd know."
"Rightio." Jason kicked a rock across the floor and, as nothing happened, began to walk towards Tim.

"These chains are heavy duty shit, kid, can't cut through them." Jason announced. Damian scoffed, pinching a lock pick from somewhere and began working on the chain. In genuinely three seconds flat the chain fell away. "Robin's semi secure." Jason said over comms. "I got back in contact with B for this crap, so now I'm gonna go see if I can shoot the Joker's fucking face in. Can you keep Damian safe?"
"Yeah." Tim said, rather than a half-expected lecture on the No Kill Rule.

Jason nodded and sprinted out of the warehouse, not bothering to check for other traps. Without Damian at his back, it felt somewhat useless. Caution to the wind, and all that. He finally glimpsed purple after scaling a rooftop and sprinted to follow it. Then, another, on the opposite roof, and another, and another. They circled him, each a replica of the Joker.

Jason hadn't managed to remember the exact details of the incident in the warehouse until that momwnt. He hadn't remembered the pain of crowbar after crowbar to the face, the jeering, the mocking, all from a man who couldn't kill Batman so tried to kill a child. And then, Jason started shooting all of them.

Jason was likely to go out between the Jokers, but goddamn would the blaze be glorious.

His bullets were faster than a blur, his hands working overtime to lock and load round after round before he heard someone yelling. "Todd!"

That was his kid. No one else in the world called him that.

"Damian!" He shouted, searching the ground. "Damian!"

Damian's dead eyes stared at him, mouth parted like that was the last thing he'd said. His dad's name on his tongue. His head was indented with a crowbar's vicious iron. Jason sank to the floor, sobbing. "No, fuck, NO! Kid you don't get to do this to me. Kid!"
"Jason." Dick's voice said, and all Jason could stare at was this fucking remnant of his child-

Something hard like plastic was pressed against his face as Jason's stuttered breathing began evening out, eyes still filled with the idea of his kiddo's corpse.

"Jason, you've ingested fear toxin. None of it's real."
"Todd, you're being ridiculous, stop weeping." Damian's voice said, and he became aptly aware of a rebreather on his face. He sucked in breaths. "Fuck. Right. Jokers, plural, many. Real?"
"No. Still only one Joker."
"Damian's alive, obviously."
"Yeah."
"You're ridiculous, father." Damian said. He sounded so confident, and yet. And yet. The waver on his voice said otherwise. Jason glanced at him, meeting his eyes.

"First, I'm not fucking crying, Dick." He said, wrapping the kid in a hug. His kid. "Secondly, tell anyone and I kill you. Is Robin okay?"

"More than." Dick grinned. "Don't take any of the trackers off."
"You put trackers on me while I was on Fear?"
"Yep. Take your kid out for ice cream, I'll tell B to shove a debrief up his- well, you know." Dick said, glancing at Damian as he chose not to swear.
"Ass?" Damian asked, testing the ice of his newfound swearing powers.
"Bye, big wing." Jason said, smirking at his kid.

"Bye, little wing." Dick replied, offering a fistbump. "Go. I'll hold off the emo tit."
"I liked big boob better." Jason said, before escorting the kid back to the motorbike. "We're getting ice cream, and then I'm gonna kill Joker, and then I'm retiring from this good guy shit."
"I doubt that." Damian said. "Father, you are a good person."
"I've done a lot of bad, Dami."
"Yes. As have I. My kill count is over double yours. I am a good Heir."
"Don't make it a competition, you angel. And you don't need to be a good Heir, you just need to be a kid. You deserve to be a kid." Jason said, parking outside he and Dick's old haunt for when B was angry and Dick was feeling particularly pissed at him.

Jason ordered himself a Wonder Woman ice cream (involving bubblegum, strawberry and mango sorbet) and Damian ordered a mango sorbet. They were exactly the kind of ice cream excellent for shovelling when sad, in the little striped booths with a large sundae glass sat in front of them.

They weren't here for morose reasons. Other than Tim being kidnapped and then Jason watching his son(!) die(!) it had been g- who was he fucking kidding? Maybe they were here because Jason was shaken, and Damian... Well, the kid didn't look a hundred percent. This was his misery ice cream place, and goddamn was he miserable. He continued shovelling mango sorbet into his mouth. Damian did the same opposite him.

"Father, that situation was not ideal, but it was successful."
"Letting Joker go wasn't ideal." Jason said, internally cursing himself.
"Well, you seemed to shoot a few. Most people don't shoot one Joker, so you have a... What's the phrase?"
"...leg-up?" Jason suggested. "What are you looking for?"
"Like, you're better than them? But you have it."
"One over on them?"
"Yes! Precisely. I love you, Fatuer."
"I love you too, kiddo." Jason responded and thank fuck for autopilot replies because what the fuck? Who'd taught him that? Talia certainly had never been the verbally affectionate type and Dick had barely got his paws on the kid. He himself never said his i-el-whys.

"Bruce." Damian admitted shyly.
"Hang on a moment, Bruce taught you that?"
"Yes? He says it all the time?"
"He what?"
"Yes! He's rather quiet, actually... And your ears are getting old with the rest of you..."
"Kid."
"What? I'm not a child, either."
"Damian, you are ten."

Damian's answer, presumably with the energy of "go fuck yourself", was cut off by Jason's phone ringing. He picked up, having finished his ice cream. "Yeah?"
"Hey, little wing. So, I need Hood over here, there's a situation I presume rests in your area of expertise?"
"Send us an address."
"Yeah. Um, might want to leave Damian at home."
"Why? The Joker could get him. If he's plotting..."

Dick's voice was silent for a beat, presumably to give weight to these scenarios.

"Yeah, I really don't think that's going to be an issue. Trust me." Dick said. The beep of the phone being hung up echoed in Jason's ear, before he glanced at his phone at Dick's location. "Right, Dami, let's get you home."