Chapter Text
Jason crushed the butt of his cigarette and tossed it over his shoulder. He watched it fall the remaining 5 stories below him before he climbed into his apartment through the window. With the facial recognition he’d placed over the tempered glass corners, climbing into the window instead of unlocking the half-broken door seemed a much better option at this rate. His chest started vibrating and he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell. He rolled his eyes with a huff of breath when he saw the replacement’s 13th attempt to call him today. Most of the time Bruce was pressuring Tim or Damian to get him on the phone somehow, but every now and then they had a legitimate question for him.
‘Fuck that’ he thought and muted the call, throwing it on his bed. He made his way to his dingy, half-lit bathroom for a long-needed shower. He’d been out checking on his shipment warehouses for the last few days and wearing his Redhood helmet almost 24/7 was exhausting. He bent over the chipped sink and let his head drop down with a dramatic sigh. He tensed his muscles before letting everything shake loose. He pushed himself up before his reflection caught his attention. Dick used to comfort him and tell him his eyes were eye-catching and lady magnets after his resurrection, but nowadays it just gave him a better excuse to wear sunglasses inside. He had obvious bags forming under his eyes and that, paired with his bleached tuft of hair, seemed to add years onto his face without actually making him older. I look sad, he thought in a detached manner.
Ever since he’d stormed out of the cave, he’d done his best to separate himself from Bruce Wayne and Batman’s influences. He’d begun wearing his hair a little shorter along the neckline and traded out his uniform for something more comfortable. He could hear Bruce’s admonishment in his ear every time he chose cargo pants over tight spandex or thinner Kevlar, but it filled him with greater motivation to choose something so binary to the Dark Knight. He kept his old guns and holsters but the more time he spent focusing on gang activity, the more he realized that having a leather jacket or something to act as a buffer was usually the way to go; so he threw out the one Bruce gifted him and found another. He’d switched out his black bat design for a red one and liked to think that it was a bleeding bat and not a prospering one.
He gave his reflection a weak glare before shrugging his jacket off and letting that join his boots and gloves. He hung his holstered guns on the external doorknob to protect them from too much steam before he let himself prune up in a shower so hot, Dickie would be proud. Jason was almost amicable by the time he exited. He’d had a moment to down a coffee, eat some snacks, soap up, and scrub down all the filth of his opponents and underlings. He was actually considering taking some me-time to go scroll on his phone or turn in early for the night. That was until he entered his kitchen and found the replacement sitting at his kitchen island like he owned the place.
Jason walked past him and placed his cup in the sink before grabbing a granola bar and making for the hallway, “You can’t ignore me again, Jason. I have the next few days free. I can wait you out” Tim said.
Jason kicked the stool Tim sat on as he passed, earning him a grunt from Tim as he hit the counter with his middle, “Oops, sorry didn’t see ya there. What did you need again?”
Tim rubbed his middle and glared at Jason, “Real mature, listen-”
“No” Jason cut him off, “You listen. I’ve had a shit week and obviously, you have too, or you would’ve clued into why I’ve ignored all 84 billion of your calls. Tell Bruce to stop trying-or better yet, tell him to try when the situation calls for it, and not after he’s fucked over every relationship and person involved, hmm?”
Jason turned to go, a toodaloo on his tongue when Tim spoke, “It’s not about Bruce. I had to wait till he and Damian went on patrol before coming over, “It’s Dick”
Jason stopped walking and paused. He saw his bedroom doorway and the way the edge of his bed called to him. He could almost feel how relaxing and calming it would be to close his eyes for longer than a few minutes. He sighed, “Fine, what the fuck is it that I don’t know?”
Tim glared at him, “Lots” Tim sassed, “But specifically for Dick? Well I found something that might help your search”
“I’m not-”
“Don’t even try Jason, I’m not as stupid as you try to act I am”
“Dude it’s been 2 years. Dickhead disappeared with his personal pervert, and there’s a reason why we haven’t heard from or seen them since”
“Is that why you’ve been following every single one of Deathstroek’s completed contracts since then?” Tim’s expression fell flat, “Don’t even try with me, Jason. I’ve been following them too. My map is almost the same as yours and I’m on every anonymous hit and contract site there is”
Jason crossed his arms, “Then why haven’t you brought back our precious golden child yet, Timbo?”
Tim pushed away from the counter to face Jason more directly, “You and I both know finding Dick and taking him from Deathstroke are two totally different things. Besides, this might actually help us confirm where Dick is headed and not where he’s been”
Jason counted help the way his interest piqued, “You know where they’re going next?” Tim smirked.
His entire bedroom down the hall was covered in links, sightings, and evidence connected to Deathstroke, his successful contracts, and his new partner. Most sources called him Renegade, but Jason was pretty sure it was Dick. No one had ever seen his face clearly but apparently, wherever he was, Deathstroke’s shadow was close behind. He had pin drops and location confirmations ranging all over the world. Sometimes it was just sightings, and other times, it was confirmed kills. Jason still wasn’t sure if Deathstroke’s plan was to drag Dick around the world until it became the new norm for him, but they rarely stopped in one place for long. Sometimes the contracts were connected, like the time Deathstroke and Renagde took out an entire Vietnamese gang, and sometimes it was a simple one-and-done, like when a rebellious stepbrother to the Bellarus prince suddenly dropped dead at a private Gala. The cause of death was listed as an extreme peanut allergy but there were no nuts served at the event.
Jason had a hundred theories as to what was going on with his brother but hadn’t been able to find any evidence supporting one over the other. When he heard this new guy was supporting or completing Deathstroke’s contracts and kills, he assumed that Dick was either being controlled or had snapped and was being manipulated. Either one could work seeing as how Slade’s connections with the Light gave him access to Psimon. He assumed that Deathstroke was overjoyed to employ the Court’s conditioned worlds if Dick's brainwashing wasn't resistant to anything well enough. Those just seemed more plausible to Jason but, in reality, he knew that there was also a chance that Bruce had pushed Dick too far and that he was now choosing anyone over Batman.
The mercenary had been after his older brother with an obsessive complex since Jason was adopted, but he never could have foreseen Dick giving the old pervert a chance. Despite Dick always reassuring Jason and others that Slade never made any inappropriate moves against him, Jason always hated the possessive glint in the man’s eye and the way he tracked his brother’s movements like someone at a cattle auction. While Dick may be clear-headed, Jason knew that Deathstroke could have easily turned Dick against Bruce and his brothers with a few simple words. Jason and Tim’s accident with Dick had been the mere opener before Dick had exploded on Bruce. He still remembered the night clearly. Damian had been treated in the back by Alfred and the old man was as silent as ever. Dinah and Leslie had come by as quickly as possible and confirmed with Bruce that at least 7 shadows were killed in combat, and 12 were dead by the end of the night. Jason’s lip had taken about 27 stitches and left a nasty scar but that didn’t stop him from discovering what had sent Dick-happy-go-lucky crazy. Bruce had tried to insist there were other priorities, like finding Dick, but he’d forced Tim, who was curious too, to re-open the file and playback what Dick had found. The entire cave heard how hesitant Bruce was to defend Dick. How he’d ordered Clark to take down the cave and all those sleeping bodies’ life support. Jason knew he was a cold son of a bitch at times, but not a lot of the recording hurt his feelings, it just re-cemented how no one could be a bigger priority for Batman than Gotham. Apparently, Dick never truly understood that until he had been half-crazed and mentally fucked over by his Grandfather's assassins. His older brother was always more emotionally attached and dependent, so it was unstable that this sent him spiraling, along with learning from online articles that he’d been announced dead years ago.
They all knew they should have handled this better but had no idea that Dick would re-integrate so much more poorly this time around than last. Leslie tried to apologize to Bruce, over his shouts and demands, explaining that healing the mind is the most unexpected type of treatment. Bruce didn't get far because Jason remembered socking the older man at least twice before he’d packed his assets and taken off on his bike.
“Yea” Tim confirmed, bringing Jason out of his stupor, “Look”
Jason dropped the towel from over his shoulder and saddled up beside the younger boy. Tim did indeed have a similar place point map, but digitized instead. He had every sighting or reference color-coded apparently. Blue meant confirmed sightings of Deathstroke, red meant second-hand sightings, yellow meant confirmed contracts, and at the bottom of the page was an estimated victim list. Tim briefly ran his mouse over the number, enlarging the list of the names and deaths associated with the 2.
“So” Tim began like it was a college presentation and not an explanation of their brother’s possible kill history, “Basically, I realized that there seems to be a pattern that’s broken up by random kills and contracts. No idea if this is on purpose or if they’re just taking a break in between the bigger stuff but-”
“Ye yea yea” Jason dismissed “You don’t have to go through the small print and disclaimer bullshit with me. Get to the point”
Tim glared at the screen but continued on. He zoomed in on a dot in Mexico and brought up all his info associated with that saved file and contract, “This is what I think is the start of it. This was a sighting of Deathstroke and his supposed partner”
“Dickhead” Jason said plainly because they all knew it was Dick, they just weren’t sure why yet.
“Dick” Tim acquiesced, “Was spotted at a resort here” he pointed to Southern Mexico.
“So Wilson bribed Dick with a facial?” Jason leaned over, reading the location details, “Wait, we’ve been here. This is Bruce Wayne-level nice”
Tim nodded, “See! Ok so basically, they were here and spotted but no deaths occurred until 3 weeks later in Paris” Tim quickly scrolled over to France on his map, “So I went through a list of everyone at this resort who wasn’t Mexican, or who was French”
Tim opened a file on a woman named Adelle Reau. She looked manicured to a T with long dark red hair and a fair complexion, “She was at the Bay Luxor Resort for 2 weeks before flying back to France where she and a business partner of hers both died”
Jason sighed realizing there may be a connection he’d missed. He didn’t even have this specific sighting of Dickhead in his own files, “How did they die?” he asked in an irritated tone.
Tim smirked at Jason’s exasperation, “They were caught in the crossfire of a French gang shootout; causing a car crash and severe head trauma”
Jason felt his irritation rise as the replacement even pulled up the death certificates and files for these 2 people, “I’m pretty sure the gang turf war was a planned shoot out to justify the single bullet that killed Adelle and her partner Zarai”
Jason nodded as he read over the report. Ultimately the cops decided it was the head trauma that killed them as their heads were bashed in. Coroner notes noted that a stray bullet might have hit them after death but Jason knew how easy it was to buy off the guy in the morgue. He did it himself about 3 months ago.
“Ok, so it looks suspicious. Why is this connected to Dick?”
Tim’s fingers flew across the keyboard bringing up evidence and screenshots of websites and PDFs, “Because Deathstroke never took a contract in this area of time, but was definitely sighted here. I think they followed Adelle back to Zarai and made the kill like 2 birds with 1 stone kind of move”
Jason crossed his arms, “Why would they do some pro bono kill?”
Tim’s expression grew slightly guarded, “This is where I think we can start trying to predict where they’re going and why”
He pulled up another file and enlarged it, shifting the screen for Jason to read better. Jason scanned the file, noting that it was some sort of registered attendee list like a Board of Directors meeting for a company. On the list was Adelle Reau and Zarai Pelluse. There were other names and each person’s net worth was over 6 figures easily, and with more than 10 companies connected to them as a CEO or stakeholder in some way. Jason continued reading the bullshit meeting minutes until he came to Lydia Ryland’s name. Tim saw him freeze, “Exactly,” Tim said.
Jason ignored him for now and took note of the other names:
Roan Damarask
Joseph Gilf
Lin Huey
Song De Longe
Yassen Gretchovin
Barthalemu Yorien
Barthalemu Yorien was on Jason’s list as a sighting overlap with Wilson but there was no record of him taking a contract for such a high net worth and high profile client, which was strange. There were no titles or deliverables beyond that. There wasn’t even a date that Jason could see, “What the fuck?” Jason gripped. This was confusing as there was obviously a connection between these people but-”
He froze at the last name on the list:
William Cobb.
“What. The. Fuck”
“I know”
Jason snapped his head up at the younger boy, “What is this? A lame-ass villain meeting of rich douches?”
Tim shrugged but his gaze said something else, “This is one of the only things I could steal off of Adelle’s records before she was announced dead to the public”
“How did you steal digital records in France?” Jason gave Tim a bewildered look.
Tim’s expression fell flat, “You overestimate me at the worst times Jason. She may be rich but she isn’t an evil genius. She logged onto the resort hotel’s wifi and I was able to track her down using the digital crumbs left there” He looked at Jason like a disapproving parent, “There’s a reason your phone always tells you your connection isn’t private you know?”
Jason frowned, “I thought that was for the idiots trying to surf porn behind the staff’s back”
Tim shook his head, “If this list of people is right then half of them are already dead”
Jason agreed, “I’ve got the Russian fucker who died recently on my records at least”
Tim noted the name that Jason was pointing out, “Yeah, but this saves us a lot of time too. It basically gives us a map of where they might head next, we just need to keep an eye on these people and make sure they’re still making public appearances. We also have a small buffer since it seems like Deathstroke and Dick are sidetracking in between each person”
Jason drummed his fingers on the counter as he thought it over, “This is bigger than I thought it would be” Jason admitted, “I thought if anything, Wilson would encourage Dickhead to go after Cobb but this proves that they’re going after the entire Court too”
Tim nodded, “And half of them are already out of the picture. Roan Damarask, Joseph Gilf, Song De Longe, and Yassen Gretchovin are the only ones alive right now. Everyone else has died in freak accidents or something similar, and their families aren’t too concerned with looking into the reasons behind it either”
“Greedy fucks are fighting over the will or something” Jason muttered, “Ok, so what next? Who’s next?
Jason examined what portions of the list he could see, “Who even are these people? Rich losers like Ryland?”
Tim nodded, “For the most part. Everyone’s worth is easily 7 figures and that’s just the public assets that the US government has access to for record-keeping and business taxes”
Jason huffed, “I can’t believe we are actually getting sucked into some rich person’s cult. What’s next? Drinking virgin blood?”
Tim ignored Jason’s annoyed ramblings and pulled up Song De Longe’s profile. A thin slender, harsh-looking lady. She was obviously southeastern Asian, “I’m not sure if she is next but she is closest. Her husband doesn't have any business dealings or ties like the other people listed here do but he’s on an advertisement tour for some big brand launch right now and she’s with him in Europe”
Jason felt suspicion stir, “How the fuck do you know all this and the old man doesn't? You want me to believe Bruce can’t figure this shit out on his own?”
Tim looked away slightly, “Bruce is pretty close, to be honest. He’s got the same trail but I think the only reason he hasn’t connected the dots is because I haven’t shared the file I stole off Reau’s laptop with him. He hasn’t connected the dots because he’s been so swamped with constant breakouts during patrol”
Jason wasn't convinced, “He has his 2 little helpers” he sneered.
Tim glared, “I know you’re mad at us for staying after the stunt he pulled with Dick but we haven't exactly been helping him so it’s kind of a one-man show right now”
Jason felt a smile tick up his lip before he could contain it. Glad to see some sort of daily resistance against the old man. He wouldn't admit how surprised and glad he was that Tim and the demon had shown a backbone by refusing to help Batman on patrol and such. Alfred most likely supported the boys’ decision to take a break but didn’t like getting stuck between Bruce’s anger and their refusal. Apparently, Alfred had taken up Dick’s mantel of peacekeeper in a violent household.
Jason nodded, “Ok, I’ll go and-”
“Nooooo way are you just gonna take all my intel and shit and go off on your own,” Tim said sternly.
Jason glared, “Not that I’m trying to be rude but you do know you can't stop me right?”
Tim closed his laptop, “Right, because you never try to be rude. But you do know that it’ll only take me a few days to wipe everything but physical data from your own files right?”
Jason narrowed his eyes, “What the fuck do you want? I thought you came here so I could go do something about that missing shithead?”
Tim nodded, matching Jason’s energy, “I did in a sense, but not without conditions” He held up a finger, “We need extra support for manpower in the field and general monitoring if we are going to track 2 people and keep 6 others alive” he held up a second finger, “We need Bruce-”
“Bye,” Jason turned on his heel.
“Jason!” Tim exclaimed running to cut him off, “I’m not saying you have to get along with him or even live it but-”
“No” Jason seethed in Tim’s face, “Fuck him. I’m ready to die never speaking to him again…and I’m pretty young. Plus, who said I want to keep the Court alive? Huh? After what they did to Dick...”
Tim rubbed his forehead, “Jason, we’re all still pissed at Bruce but-”
“Oh really? Because you and the demon brat are still shacking up with him and his money”
“You still use his credit card for food! Don’t act like you don't” Tim jabbed a finger at Jason, “And let me finish! At the bare minimum, we need Bruce's resources and Dick's old team for support”
Jason scoffed, “No we don’t,” he said.
“Well I’m glad you aren’t so stupid as to think you can take on Deathstroke and Dick on your own, but you’ve got to realize how stupid it is to think you can catch up to those 2 on commercial airline flights”
“You just said we're going to involve the old team, we can just use Megan’s ship”
“Megan and Connor are in space until further notice. You’d know that if you actually checked in with us. It’s not like associating with us is betraying Dick or something”
Jason simmered angrily, “No”
“Jason-”
“No! Fuck, everyone always comes crawling back to him for one reason or another and his little rich brain thinks that means he’s always right in the end! I’m not playing his game. Maybe Dick left with the right intentions after all”
“Don’t be an asshole!” Tim spat, “You’re really gonna let your petty anger with Bruce keep you from bringing Dick home? Damian can't live away from Bruce yet without life being 10 times more complicated and I'm the only one who can see how alone Damian would be if I moved out like you!”
Jason rolled his eyes and looked away, “Who knows if Dick really wants to come back here. This might not be home to him anymore”
Tim scoffed, “You’re just saying that. If you really thought it would be pointless to bring him back then you wouldn’t have tracked him for 2 years!”
Jason fought the urge to pummel the younger boy for his attitude, “Dick is definitely better off without Bruce, just not better off with Wilson”
“Ok, well, we agree on half of that at least. Just help me bring Dick home and we can fight about him, or with him, whatever we need to do, but within arms reach. Even Bruce would agree that having him angry and living with you is better than with Wilson in China or something”
Jason’s anger sputtered at the notion of having his big brother live with him after so long. He’d been chasing the guy forever and when he had him around it felt like a shell of his Dick. To have everything back the way it should be, but better, would be great.
Jason ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the short ends roughly, “I’m not talking to him”
“Great!” Tim said beginning to pack up,
“I mean it, replacement! I don’t care how stupid or simple. I’m here for the mission and nothing else. I’m not talking with him, working with him, eating with him-nothing”
Tim gave Jason a deadpan look, “Everything you’re describing is cancelling out what you just agreed to”
Jason didn’t waver, “I don’t fucking care” he repeated, “I’m not giving that old man an inch. He can tag along if he’s so desperate to prove to Dick he cares or some shit but that’s it”
Tim waved a hand, “We can confirm details later” he said as he looked elsewhere. Jason could tell his mind was already gone with future plans the moment Jason acquiesced to Briuce’s presence in exchange for his finances and resources. Jason looked more closely at Tim and realized he was packing up in a slightly rushed manner. He narrowed his eyes, undecided if he wanted to point it out when Tim’s cell went off, Damian’s name flashing across the screen. Tim jumped slightly before dropping his laptop a little too harshly and reaching for the phone. Jason snatched it up before he could and swiped left, accepting the call.
“So?” Damian demanded.
Jason narrowed his eyes at Tim, feeling more assured in his assumption that there was a plan or setup of some sort.
“Uh-Damian, I think I should ca-”
“If you try to hang up on me I am telling Father everything” Damian threatened.
Jason zeroed in, “Bruce doesn’t know any of this? What the fuck are you coming to me so early on in this plan acting like it’s all set to go? You made it seem like first-class tickets were already booked”
Tim tried to smother the look on his face but he knew he was caught.
“Todd? Good, so then Drake did succeed in finally catching your attention”
Jason looked at the phone, “What the fuck is happening here? Is this a plan or a half-baked scheme?”
Damian made a disgruntled sound over the phone, “Everything I participate in is well thought out and intellectually coveted, Todd”
“Oh really? Then why the fuck are you and the replacement trying to sell me on a half-baked scheme as if I’m the last one getting on board…it sure doesn't sound like it”
The little demon growled over the line, “We were merely assuring the most vital aspects of the plan before informing Farther. We assumed that if everything was in place and secured, then he would have no choice but to assist or let us go”
Jason smirked, “Awwww, am I an essential component of your plan?”
Damian hissed back quickly but Tim cut him off, “Listen, everything I said was true. That is the plan but we know that it’ll all go much smoother with you on board and honestly-”
“Everyone on planet Earth is more amicable than you Todd”
Tim winced, “Yeah, we figured if you said yes, then everyone else would be a breeze. Plus” he rubbed his arm and looked away, “We were really hoping that the more of us there would be, the greater chance we'd have at Dick feeling safer coming back to us”
“Especially after Richard smashed your face in” Damian added snidely.
Jason seethed, regretting ever admitting that it was Dick who pummelled his lip open. Despite the Pit’s healing essence in his blood, the cut had left a long white nasty scar from his lip to the cleft in his chin. The wound healed quickly and without fuss, making Jason feel like the cut was doing its best to heal and become a permanent reminder of his inability to reign in 1 goddammed person. He’d had so many years to clue into the fact that Dick wasn’t dead, and even then he’d had a little over a year to keep 1 person tucked away long enough to heal, and he couldn't manage that.
He’d die before admitting it but sometimes wondered if Bruce was onto something. If maybe Dick’s unhappiness and anxiety were worth it if he came out safe and in one piece at the end of it all. Jason quickly rid himself of the notion, second-guessing himself like that was pointless at this rate. Too much had changed and Jason needed to get his big brother back, punch some sense into him, and then figure out what Dick’s goal was. Hell, he’d help him track down the Court of Owl mother fuckers and put them away, but imagining Dick galivanting around under Deathstroke made his stomach clench with something nauseating. He hated how easy it was to admire DIck Grayson due to how easy and capable he made every single task look, but Jason couldn’t reconcile Dick’s happy dopey face with that of an unregretable killer.
Part of him still couldn't believe that Dick had gone after the Joker for him, but every now and then, when he’d let himself believe Dick’s words about how he thought he was honoring Jason how he truly would have wanted, Jason wondered if he had misjudged his brother their entire lives. If Dick was capable of killing at such a young age for his brother, what was he capable of under duress with Deathstroke?
“So?” Damian’s petulant demanding voice brought Jason back.
“What?” Jason snapped.
“Will you assist or not?”
Jason groaned, “Fine. Yes. Whatever” he snapped back, “Just like I told replacement though, I’m not doing shit besides breathing the same air as Bruce”
Tim smiled, “Alright! Damian and I have a meeting with Young Justice later this week, we’ll pop the question and see who else we can get”
Jason leaned on the counter as Tim left the phone on speaker, “You said Megan and Connor are in space? Who else are you aiming to get with this fast-tracked rescue plan huh?”
Tim answered quickly, “I'm confident Artemis, Roy, and Wally will want in,” he said, “Plus, Kaldur is back from whatever Aqua man had him looking into and Canary mentioned that he’s on a break so I figured he had some definite free time”
Jason crossed his arms, “Why does it sound like Bruce is the only leaguer helping? Why isn’t Clark or Canary or literally anybody else planning this, or even helping?”
Tim looked at his phone like Damian would be of more help, “We tried….”
The Justice League are being weaklings at the moment and wish to wait” Damian grumbled.
Jason peaked a brow at Tim, forcing out an answer, “Clark and Diana are trying to pressure Bruce into adding Dick to our vigilante monitoring list. They said with everything going on and all the unresolved issues, with Luthor and the Light, that they can’t afford the time and people for a mission targeted just for Dick-”
“Wait wait wait” Jason held up his hands, “Are they seriously saying that the only way to justify going after Dick is to label him a criminal and put him on a most wanted list?”
“I know but-”
“No, fuck that” Jason spat, “Dick’s like a pillar of the community, or whatever” Jason swished his hand through the air, “First sidekick, leader of Young Justice and all that crappy jazz”
He crossed his arms and smirked darkly, “How ironic that Uncle Clark and Aunt Wonderwoman want to tarnish his image before allocating any resources towards his search and rescue”
“They haven’t turned against him, but they can’t order the entire League to mobilize if only a handful vote for it” Tim argued, “We’ve only got Clark, Dinah, Diana, Barry, Oliver, and a few others on our side. Jason, the Justice League is huge and this would be a big mission” Tim looked away, abashed, “They’re trying to work with Bruce within the confines of the Justice League’s code but it takes some pull"
“They’re trying to label him as some sort of terrorist in order to offer help?” Jason scoffed, “Sounds like a fancy kill on sight if you ask me”
“Don’t be stupid” Tim snapped, “The JL doesn’t kill. This is an automatic retain and capture on sight, but Bruce needs to agree in order for it to be pushed through to the international hero community”
“Oh yea” Jason nodded with fake enthusiasm, “And Bruce loves to be agreeable” His expression dropped, “Fuck this. If Dick hears his friends and family have turned against him, he’ll really be running from us. A criminal, replacement! Do you not hear what you’re justifying?”
“He’s not a criminal! He needs help and you need to work with us before anyone gets ahead of them and does something about this. Like you said Jason, this is Dick. The hero community won’t ignore him and Wilson forever. This plan” he gestured around the kitchen and to the phone, “Will help us get a head start on this mess and keep Dick from being labeled as a world-renowned criminal”
“They already have” Damian reminded them. Jason cringed, remembering how quickly Clark and the others had found out about the dead assassins and Dick’s disappearance. Bruce had insisted that Talia’s strange kidnapping attempt and Dick’s disappearance were a family matter, but Clark wouldn’t listen. He’d blown up on Bruce for his negligence and preference for hiding the biggest bombshells. Jason suspected that Clark was still guilt-ridden over the fact that he’d listened to Bruce and taken down the centuries-old sleeping talon compound, but he wasn’t about to support a crusade against Dick, even if it did throw Bruce under the bus. Diana and the other founding members were quick to support Clark or attempt to find a reasonable middle ground. Ollie and Dinah had been back and forth between the 2 dominating men, attempting to reason that with Dick missing, presumably because of Deathstroke, it warranted some sort of search-if only because of a possible kidnapping linked to a meta who was on literally every first world national’s legitimized wanted list. Bruce and Clark had been at odds but most of the tension was fueled and escalated by Bruce’s insistence on hiding information from the League until it was too late. Jason wasn’t certain if Bruce was being honest when he stated that the matter of the original Robin was a family matter and none of the League’s concern, but he was unwavering.
“I-” Jason was cut off by his own cell phone ringing. He furrowed his brow in confusion. He took out his cell to find Bobby’s name plastered across the screen, “Fuck me” he gripped. He quickly made his way past Tim. He snatched up his helmet from his bedroom and yanked it on before answering the call, “What?” he demanded through the helmet’s voice modulator.
“Uhhh, hey boss. We uh-”
“What. Is. It” Jason growled.
“Give me that” another voice snapped. There was a muffled sound of hands over the phone speaker before a deeper voice became louder, “Boss, we got an issue. Black Mask’s men made an appearance”
Jason clenched his fists and did his best not to lash out at Jack. He was one of his best men and he knew that a level of warped respect went a long way into cultivating loyalty in men who could follow orders and get shit done, “What happened?”
“Somehow they knew about the shipment we were sharing with Jaylong’s group and when we showed up to inspect and approve the usual stuff. It was already gone”
“All of it?”
“All of it. Boxes and all”
“They didn’t even leave the fucking cargo containers empty” Jason scoffed to himself. Jack grunted in agreement.
“I think either Jaylong’s men got paid off to give Sionis a heads up the next time they partnered with us or Sionis just bought out the entire team staffing the shipment yard tonight”
Jason bowed his head, thinking for a moment.
“Re-?”
“Yea yea,” Jason said, “Ok, here’s what you’re gonna do. Whether or not, Sionis bought out the Triad, they’re probably acting suspicious and pointing figures to keep up appearances, yeah?”
“Yea, they’re not happy, but said I could call you while they fall Taefong”
“Good, well, until anything becomes more obvious, we can toe the line with them. Don’t give them reassurance or leeway. Blame Sionis until I can get down there and point the fingers myself. Send Bobby or one of the other new kids to copy and clean the footage and then let them know we are calling a meeting in 2 days. Plumbing district”
“Got it Bo-” Jason hung up with a heavy sigh.
“We could arrest him for half that conversation alone,” Damian said.
“Why are you still here?” Jason snapped. Black Mask had been a diligent thorn in his side for the past 2 years. The man refused to face him, sending middlemen and weaklings to any mass Gothamite meetings between territory leaders. He knew it was because he’d spent millions to buy Redhood from the Court of Owls and showed up to an empty warehouse and a truck full of unconscious underlings. Jason wasn’t about to broadcast that he’d been on the market and Sionis surely wasn’t about to admit that Redhood got under his skin, and was so successful at matching him as a rival gang opponent, that he’d stoop to buying a drugged and injured Redhood from a rival underground organization. It was bad for both their images so it came down to petty meticulous, constant gang-level warfare conducted under false facades and reasonings. He waved an aggressive hand at Tim who still had his phone on speaker. Tim rolled his eyes and finished packing up.
“Don’t get shot or arrested before next Monday. I’ll let you know how many people we have on board, and then I want to leave within a day or 2 because once Clark and the others hear, they’re not gonna want to sanction our mission”
Jason rolled his eyes, “Yea yea yea, this is a secret. I don’t even talk to any of those pee-brained Young Justice kids”
Tim scowled, “They’re getting better and you know I wouldn't recruit any of them to help. We want experienced members in the field to be familiar with Dick”
Jason brushed past him, “Whatever, leave me alone until you have an actual plan” he gave Tim a look, “With actual participants”
Tim held up his hands, “I’m going, I get it”
Jason watched grumpily as Tim made his way to the window he preferred to enter by, “And stop using my window to break and enter!”
“Stop using my tech!” he heard from outside his window.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Dick hummed to himself as he finished his sandwich, “I’m serious Wintergreen, if you entered one of those cooking shows, you’d cream 'em all” Dick waved his sandwich at the older man across the kitchen counter.
Wintergreen chuckled as he wiped down the counter, “Thank you dear boy, but it’s hardly difficult to air-fry a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As much as I appreciate the comments, you’re hardly a stern critic”
“We just need to get you into a beginners competition and then you’ll really smoke 'em,” Dick said to himself.
Wintergreen rolled his eyes and turned away as it was obvious Dick was too focused on planning his own fantasy. After a few minutes, his eyes were drawn to the hallway as Slade emerged in his Deathstroke gear and a duffle bag saddled over his shoulder.
He stopped when he spotted Dick at the kitchen island counter, still covered in blood and dirt. His eye narrowed in annoyance. He sauntered over to Dick, sticking to his backside. Dick’s movements slowed noticeably as he felt Slade’s presence grow nearer. He flinched slightly at the sound of Slade’s duffle bag dropping to the floor with a heavy thud, alongside Dick’s already at his feet.
“Will?”
Will had long since sensed the atmosphere in the room grow tenser but humored his friend, “Hmm?”
“Why is Richard eating...” he glanced down Dick’s nape to his sticky fingers, “Peanut butter instead of getting medical treatment?”
Wintergreen’s gaze fell on a sheepish Dick, “Well, Richard informed me that after a successful mission, you had sent him ahead to rest up and eat while you wrapped up a few things”
Dick watched Will and couldn’t help holding his breath as he felt Slade’s fingers creep up his shoulders and neck. For a second those familiar fingers brought a pleasurable shiver as they dragged up his nap and into his hair. The sensation ended abruptly as Slade’s fingers clenched in his hair and yanked his head backward, barring his throat completely. He made instant eye contact with the older mercenary and couldn’t help the prominent bobbing of his throat as he swallowed, Slade’s gaze instantly catching the motion, "Pretty bird?”
He swallowed, “Yes?”
“It sounds to me like you lied to Will here”
Dick blinked, trying to focus on anything else, but Slade’s presence had always been overwhelmingly present for him, “I was hungry” he tried lamely.
Slade’s eye narrowed, “You were stabbed twice and shot in the shoulder. I told you to go to Will for medical treatment and a shower”
Slade’s other hand came to rest on Dick’s adams apple and he jumped slightly as he was suddenly aware of the slow dragging of a thumb over his elongated neck, “I-”
Slade’s thumb suddenly pressed down sharply, robbing DIck of his air. He wheezed and struggled before Slade eased up on his throat. He was allowed to try again, “Yes,” he said simply.
Slade sighed and coaxed his muscles to relax as much as possible in such a compromising position, stroking his throat and scalp, “This wouldn’t be required if you’d listen to me and stop weakening yourself so pointlessly”
Dick glared petulantly, straightening against the firm hold in his hair, “It’s fine. Don’t tell me to stop, because I won’t”
Slade hummed, petting Dick, “I know kid. I’m just waiting for the day when your own actions get you killed; again” Slade leaned in sinisterly, “Because it will happen if you continue to insist on weakening yourself to prove a point nobody cares about, to a group of people who don’t care enough for you”
Dick glared back, breathing heavily through his nose when Will cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention, “If this is the case then I think it’s best that I treat and wrap these apparent wounds, so Richard can get properly cleaned up”
Slade’s gaze jumped to Dick’s stretched figure, his back arched against the back of the high chair. His hair was slicked back with sweat and grease and his clothes and hoodie were coated in a fine layer of dust and dirt from their most recent mission. His face wasn’t much better with various shallow cuts littering his chin and cheeks. Slade looked at the cuts, the ones deep enough to smear blood were barely stopping their shallow drip. The thinner cuts and scrapes should have been gone but were lingering and the intentional weakness Dick forced himself to suffer through agitated Slade to no end. He observed the bent body that arched up for him with a blase expression, “How does that sound, Dick?” he asked in a dangerous tone. Dick squirmed once and nodded quickly.
“Good boy” He released Dick with a nod of approval to follow Wintergreen’s word. Dick left the last bite of his food on his plate and scurried back down the hallway to his room, leaving his duffle bag and phone where they sat. Slade sighed and tipped his head back, crossing his arms. Will chuckled and patted Slaed’s beefy arm as he passed, “It will pass. I know you have high expectations for the boy but he’s young and has been through much. You have an eternity to straighten him out, Wilson”
Slade rolled his eyes, “Are you referring to his habit of lying and disrespect? Or his ridiculous need to minimize his own potential?”
Wintergreen shrugged, “Whichever you want it to be” he chuckled. “It’s been a few years, let him re-learn who he wants to be. You’re lucky he’s willing to do it with you in the vicinity at all”
Slade grunted, not willing to agree. They both knew that it was thanks to Dick’s compromisable nature that the three of them got on as well as they did. Slade would not have let Dick go so their current situation was the best that could have come of Slade hounding a stricken and unstable Dick. Slade’s involvement with the Corut was still a sore spot but as there was little Slade could do to redeem himself, he’d been relying on time to ease Dick’s ill will towards him in that regard.
“I’ll go check on him and send him to wash up, eat something” Wintergreen departed without another word, following Dick.
Over the past year or two, Dick had attempted to find himself in an atmosphere that didn’t involve his overbearing brothers or controlling father. Slade had kept him busy with training and missions, ramping up the severity and harshness required over the years, but overall he was falling back into characteristics that Slade could identify in the first Robin well. The kid was capable of conquering the world. He had always been hindered by remnants of the Bat’s petty belief system, convinced that restraining himself was a sign of strength and honor. When Slade had claimed his little bird, he’d been frustrated to see that same false belief system still firmly in place under Dick’s skin and eyes. After the turbulence his father and brothers had put him through, it wasn’t very hard to pry those beliefs and morals from the kid’s fingers. With every new rule and look of distrust, the kid’s grip over what he believed to be his own barriers and beliefs had weakened more and more. Once his brothers had started to sow doubt into his bird’s brain and heart, well it had only been too easy to inject authentic doubt into the kid as to whether or not he was abiding by his own belief system or that of the Bat’s. One that had been ingrained by a poorly raised Gotham socialite under completely different circumstances. He knew he’d never let his bird fly free, not truly, but every day the kid let another arbitrary rule free from his heart, Slade found it easier and easier to relax his own grip over the kid.
Dick flinched far less now when taking a shot, still preferred guns to fists, and worked himself to death to compensate for failed missions or injured bystanders. The panic attacks from death and coagulated blood had ceased months ago and Slade found that he was beginning to prefer the fanatic light that entered the kid’s eyes whenever he silenced the light of another. The final thump of his fists or sure click of a trigger, parallel to the narrowly focused glint in those powerful blue eyes made Slade’s blood pulse and thump with something he’d forgotten how to feel long ago. He knew the kid wasn't relishing in the pain that he was causing others on missions, but more so falling headfirst into the freefall of adrenaline and excitement that their line of work brought then. The kind of freedom that even cliff jumpers could never establish in their lives because, to look someone in the eye and decide how to end their life was an exhilarating rush, a high that very few people could carry out under their own deft fingers. It was only a matter of time before the kid realized how in denial he was and Slade's palms itched to be there when that moment hit home. When his lethal bird realized the false clarity he'd been living under in order to ensure his missions were completed efficiently. Eager was an understatement to describe his desire to see the day Dick realized that he could enjoy causing pain and not deserve to implode on the spot from such a feeling. He reminded himself it was dangerous to get addicted to the kid and the reactions he was able to pull out of his bird…but then again, if he had Dick for an eternity and neither of them could truly die….what was the harm in his single addictive crutch?
The kid had many of his own weaknesses and bad habits to work through but Slade was more determined to get him out of the Bat's hold soonest. As soon as his behavior and urges were wiped clean of Gotham, then Slade could focus on reigning in Dick and his bad habits. How he often tried to drink too much to find where his new limits lay, how he’d taken up smoking as an ironic response to the fact that nicotine could never truly kill a lung now, how he’d beat his fists bloody if a mission didn’t go as planned or if he lost himself to the rage and passion of a fight. Despite it all, Slade had the least amount of patience for Dick’s new method of humanizing himself. The kid was convinced that he didn’t deserve the immortality and power that had put his family in danger and almost destroyed his brother’s face but then turned around and used it to accompany Slade on a multitude of missions and to take down the social elitists who had ruined his family and future. Dick seemed to take some sort of self-righteous punishment out of seeing and feeling injuries and cuts heal slowly, as if he was administering his own retribution. The kid may be realizing that he was pointlessly restraining himself but he still had a long way to go before he was completely free of the Bat’s mental and emotional railings.
He still remembered the last time he'd rewarded the kid. Dick had looked at him in surprise like his treat was out of the blue and unnecessary. Slade thought otherwise as Dick had, for the first time ever, let his own exhaustion take priority over a car accident they'd passed. A man had stood with an infant while a woman's body was draped over the steering wheel inside the car. All the occupants in their vehicle had seen the incident with clarity and Slaade looked to Dick, expecting the demand for them to stop, but Dick, earlier that day, had just committed his youngest contract. A 17-year-old, 3 weeks from his birthday and prepared to inherit the 4th largest Russian mob. Dick had been resistant, offering every other solution to a swift death until Slade had shown him differently. Walked him through how to investigate a person's personal life and look for telling signs of their behavior and personality. How to pick up signs of laziness or spot cruelty from the reactions around them. Dick could be saving lives by snuffing out this young one early. Like usual, Dick had allowed Slade to guide him around and back home while he tried to regain some semblance of self-awareness. When they passed the accident, Dick had merely turned the other way muttering that the ambulance would be there soon. There were no sirens to be heard.
He was pleased to see Dick joking and smiling more. Wintergreen, more than glad to humor immature and lame jokes, often encouraged joking at inappropriate times. It led to Slade’s belief that the kid could bounce back more easily than he’d believed in the first few months Slade had sequestered him away. He’d been under constant surveillance then; from a combination of instability and shame. Wintergreen had seen it too, the shift from day to day that led them to doubt if Dick could follow through and leave his family. Dick had been quite volatile at the time, almost a danger to anyone who caught him in the right mood. As soon as his body was completely clear of the steroids, suggestive toxins, and drugs he’d been pumped with for so long, Dick’s physique had calmed as well. He resembled an acrobat far more than he previously did; with broad shoulders and arms, and a trim waist that proved his rigorous schedule was not for the faint of heart. His hair had grown out more but after Slade and Wintergeen’s nagging, had given in to a more ‘on the move lifestyle’ friendly style with the sides shorter than the top. He’d been adamant that he refused to buzz his hair like young Slade Wilson most likely wore for most of his life.
He heard a door close and then the telling signs of the shower start up before he allowed himself to peruse the fridge for any leftovers Wintergreen might have left for them.