Brothers To The Bitter End

17

"So this is where you're hiding?"

Dick didn't even look up from his glass of whiskey to acknowledge Jason sitting next to him.

"Beer, please," Jason responded to the bartender's unspoken question and turned back to Dick. "Running out on your problems isn't going to solve anything,"

"I'm not running. I'm simply mulling things over."

"Uh-huh. You're sulking."

"And what if I am? I told him repeatedly he was not to do that vigilante stuff. And yet he went against my orders and got himself captured."

Jason frowned. "Wait, you're not the one who caught him?"

"'Course not. If I had, I wouldn't have strung him up in a warehouse, I would've dragged him home by his ear."

"Then who . . ."

"I don't know. All I know is I got an anonymous note telling me where Damian was and what he'd been up to. So I went and picked him up."

"In a bullet proof suit with a logo on it?" Dick stiffened slightly, and so Jason pressed on. "What's the deal with that suit anyways? It's not one of your old ones."

"I had it made to put under my uniform to protect me against bullets without the stupid vest. End of story."

"Then why the bird logo?" Again, Dick was silent. "I've heard there's a new guy on the street. The baddies call him "Nightwing." They say he's silent as an owl. Never see him coming until he trounces them and leaves them for the cops."

"And?"

"And the suit matches, man."

Dick sighed and finally looked Jason in the eyes. "How long have you known?"

"Since the first guy described you. I mean, come on. Black hair, baby blue eyes, and the symbol? That's the old Flying Grayson symbol. So yeah, I've known for a while. Which is why I don't get why you were so hard on Damian."

Dick shook his head and sighed again. "I only go out and pick up the guys the cops are legally unable to. Damian, though, is a different story. He didn't even have the decency to not wear his League uniform for crying out loud. And someone recognized him, just like I was afraid of. He's not careful enough, and he's going to get himself killed if he keeps doing this."

"Then train him."

"Oh har har har."

"I'm serious. You've already done it once, why not do it again?"

"For one thing, I trained him to be an assassin. Not the best example for your cause. Second, why didn't you train him? You knew about this for way longer than I have,"

"I don't wanna take care of the Demon Spawn! That's your job!"

"Not totally. It should be a group effort."

"It's very much your pet project."

"Hmph," They sat in silence for several minutes, and Jason sipped on his beer.

"So, what now?" Jason finally asked.

"First, you get the pleasure of driving me home."

"Why?"

"Because I'm drunk, and that's no condition to be driving. Second, I need your phone,"

"Whyyyyyyy?"

Dick gave them both a dirty look. "Because I need to make a call,"
**********
A black limo pulled up in front of the suburban house. Out of the driver's seat stepped an older, yet seemingly ageless man. He carried a large package underneath his arm as he walked slowly up the stairs and knocked on the front door. A few moments later the door opened and a slightly rumpled looking Dick poked his head out.