no rest for the wicked [jason todd]

twelve

Hey! Just writing to let any of you that read this in combination with my Damian Wayne fanfiction that these stories run on different timelines, and thus different people will be doing different things.
—

THE DAY CAME AND WENT SO FAST,

Tye could hardly believe that it was even real. It felt like she'd dreamt everything that had happened. Then, as things carried on and she got to the end of the night, she figured maybe she needed something a little more exhilerating. Sure, it was a night that technically had 'JASON' written all over it on her calender, but he could deal.

She could reschedule.

She changed into a pair of clothes — some exercise leggings, a sports bra and a hoodie — and figured she'd go for a jog. She'd been working more on hand-to-hand combat, so if she ran into anyone sketchy, she was pretty sure she was going to be able to take care of herself.

So, she broke out into a lazy sprint when she got outside. It was starting to rain, and she could feel the dampness starting to leak through her hoodie, chilling her skin. She ignored it, pulling the hood up over her hair and continuing on the jog. She pressed play on her headphones, trying to block out the eerie silence. The only sound she'd been hearing was an echo of her footsteps hitting the ground.

She paused, her jogging slowing down to walking, and then finally to a stand-still. She looked over her shoulder, acutely aware that the streets wouldn't have echoed her footsteps like that. Someone was there.

She didn't call out, she'd seen enough scary movies. She turned her head and kept walking, slower this time, turning the music off. Calm down, she told herself, this is all going to be okay. Nothing is going to happen here. Maybe it was Jason, pissed that she'd ditched him for the rain.

"Jason?" She asked, her voice low enough that if he was there, he'd recognize her.

She heard a little laugh and felt her stomach drop, unable to stop hearing her heartbeat in her ears, pounding like she'd just witnessed a murder. That wasn't Jason.

She searched her person, finding the knife hidden in her waistband and gently pulling the sheath off. She held the knife up, her feet starting to work faster as she broke out into a run. She tore her phone out and tried to find Dick's number, dialling it.

"Tye! Hey, what's up?" She heard him say, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. "Tye," he said when he heard her heavy breathing, "Tye, Jesus— What happened to you? What's wrong?"

"I think someone's—" She took a deep breath, "Dick, I think someone's following me—"

Dick took a deep breath. "Tye," he whispered, "Tye, calm down, where are you? Where'd you go? I'm not that far from the place, okay? I'm not that far from where we were."

Someone gently put a hand on her shoulder and she turned around, knife pointing straight at his torso. She heard him laugh, and she didn't remember seeing his face. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and threw her down to the ground. She was still holding her phone, and she could hear Dick distantly, shouting for her.

Blurry-eyed, she watched someone's heel crush the phone and another sinister laugh, more high-pitched this time. "We gonna have a lot a' fun with ya," she heard a girl say.

She gasped, trying to look up, but all she could see was a smile.

She passed out with that smile in her head, the laugh echoing for miles in her nightmares.

—

When Tye came to, she felt the pressure on her wrists. Cold, thick metal that kept her secure to whatever chair she was on. She struggled, yanking her wrist back until it became so raw and red that she could feel the pain from a mere brush across the surface of her skin. Then, when she figured that it would do no use to continue struggling, she looked around the room.

A smaller room, grey concrete walls with a door that was shut firmly and locked, from the looks of it. It was hard steel, and as she continued to look at it, she finally saw it. The lock unclickced and she gently rolled her shoulder, a scoff falling from her lips. Whoever these psychos were, she was owed an ibuprofen at the least. Her head felt like someone had stepped on it.

The door opened and a woman poked her head in, a grin on her lips. "Hey, sugah," she said teasingly, leaning on the doorframe, "I'm just the openin' act, don't look so excited ta' see me." She swung a baseball bat onto her shoulder, the nails narrowingly missng her own skin, which was probably a calculated act.

"Why am I here?" She demanded, leaning forward. She hissed a little as she felt the gentle scrape of the handcuffs on her skin. "What... What do you want from someone like me?"

The girl smirked, an eyebrow raising above her eyes. "Hey now," she said, "don't be so humble, girlie." She raised the bat up and swung at Tye's shoulder. Tye bit back a scream of pain, her eyes squeezing shut. Those were tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "I've gotta be dreaming," she said softly, "I hope I'm dreaming."

"Oh sugah," the woman said, leaning close, "you're right, ya are gonna wish ya made this all up." She put a hand on Tye's cheek. "'Cept it isn't. Wake up to reality."

Tye couldn't help but wish she had gone to meet Jason tonight — or... How long had she been unconscious, actually? Minutes, hours, days—? Suddenly her mouth was dry as she stared forward, leaning her chin up to look at the woman. "Why am I here?" She demanded again, her voice shaking.

"Heard ya knew the Red Hood," the woman murmured, "we been lookin' for 'im."