Chapter Text
Jason had been in this game long enough to know when he was being watched.
It was an instinct more than anything—something that prickled at the back of his neck, warning him to keep his head low, to move carefully, to stay out of sight. Gotham was always a battlefield, but tonight, he wasn’t just dealing with common criminals or even the Bat’s usual interference.
Tonight, someone else was in his city.
He could feel it.
The warehouse was dark, barely illuminated by the flickering streetlights filtering through the shattered windows. Jason pressed himself against the metal scaffolding, overlooking the scene below. A group of heavily armed mercs were loading crates onto an unmarked truck, moving with the efficiency of men who had done this a thousand times before.
Stark tech.
Expensive, top-of-the-line, and very stolen.
Jason had spent the last two weeks tracking the shipment. It had been smuggled into Gotham through the docks, passed through three different hands before landing in the lap of some black-market arms dealer who thought he could make a killing selling it to the highest bidder.
Unfortunately for them, Jason had other plans.
He adjusted the rifle strap over his shoulder, shifting slightly to keep his footing silent on the metal beams. His helmet’s HUD scanned the crates, confirming what he already knew—arc reactor batteries, repulsor modifications, targeting software. Nothing that should ever be on Gotham’s streets.
His jaw tightened. This was the kind of tech that could turn a two-bit thug into a real problem. The kind of thing that would make crime lords salivate and send the entire city spiraling into chaos.
Not happening.
Jason had spent years cleaning up Gotham his own way, keeping the worst scum from sinking their claws too deep. He wasn’t about to let some mercs play dealer with tech they didn’t even understand.
But there was one problem.
The other eyes on him.
It wasn’t Bruce. Wasn’t Dick, or Tim, or anyone else who usually stuck their noses in his business. Jason had made damn sure of that—changed his comm frequencies, set up decoy signals across the city, even used some of Babs’ old scrambling tech just to be safe. If the Batfamily had any idea where he was, they weren’t showing it.
So that left the new players in town.
Jason had picked up traces of them hours ago—silent movements, faint shifts in the shadows, the kind of professional tracking that only came from people who actually knew what they were doing. Not like the amateurs who usually tried to tail him.
And now, with his scope zeroed in on the mercs below, he finally caught his first glimpse of them.
Two figures. Hidden in the darkness just beyond the loading bay, watching the same deal he was.
Jason’s HUD adjusted, running facial recognition.
And then—
You have got to be shitting me.
Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.
Of all the people who could’ve shown up in his city tonight, it just had to be the Avengers.
Jason exhaled sharply, refocusing on the mercs. He didn’t know why the Avengers were here, and he didn’t care. This was his op. He wasn’t about to let them swoop in and handle things like they always did—like Gotham was just another battlefield they could clean up and walk away from.
Not tonight.
He tightened his grip on the rifle, bracing himself as one of the mercs barked an order. Two men cracked open one of the crates, revealing a sleek, glowing repulsor core.
Time to move.
Jason dropped down silently, landing behind a stack of crates. He reached for his pistols, exhaling slow and steady. The plan was simple: take out the mercs, destroy the tech, disappear before Barton and Romanoff had the chance to get in his way.
But, as always, nothing ever went according to plan.
Because just as Jason stepped out from cover, ready to make his move—
A voice crackled in his comm.
“Jason. Where the hell are you?”
Jason almost cursed out loud. He pressed a finger to his earpiece, voice low.
“Busy, Dick. Go away.”
“You’ve been off the grid for two days.”
“Yeah, and I like it that way.”
Jason’s eyes flicked back to the loading bay. The mercs were still unaware of him, still focused on securing the Stark tech. He needed to act now.
Dick, of course, didn’t get the memo.
“You’re screwing with your comm signals again,” Dick said. “Babs is pissed.”
“Tell her to take a number.”
“Jason.”
Jason gritted his teeth, scanning the rooftops for any sign of Bat interference. So far, nothing.
Good.
“Listen, Nightingale,” Jason muttered, inching closer to the mercs. “I’m in the middle of something. Don’t send anyone after me.”
“Then tell me what you’re doing.”
“None of your damn business.”
A pause. Then—
“…You need backup?”
Jason almost laughed.
From them? Yeah, right.
“Bye, Dick.”
He cut the comm.
Then, without missing a beat, he fired the first shot.
A merc crumpled before he even hit the ground. Jason moved fast, taking out two more before the others even had a chance to react.
Shouts erupted. Guns were drawn. Chaos ignited.
Jason dove behind cover, reloading.
And that was when the real problem started.
Because as soon as the mercs scattered, the shadows shifted. A flash of movement—silent but calculated.
Barton was already in play.
An arrow flew past Jason’s head, embedding itself in the concrete beside him. Not an attack—a warning.
Jason cursed. “Oh, screw you.”
He ducked just as Natasha lunged, her Widow’s Bite crackling with electricity. Jason blocked her strike, twisting away before she could land a hit.
“You’re fast,” she said.
Jason smirked. “You’re in my way.”
She didn’t respond—just moved.
Jason had sparred with enough of Bruce’s pets to know when someone was holding back. Natasha was testing him, pushing just enough to gauge his skill.
He hated that.
Another merc charged from the side, and Jason shifted, using Natasha’s momentum to spin and drive his elbow into the guy’s ribs. He went down with a grunt.
More arrows rained down, forcing Jason to move again.
This was getting messy.
The last thing Jason wanted was a full-on fight with the Avengers—not because he couldn’t handle himself, but because he didn’t need this kind of attention. The Bat was already breathing down his neck. If he made too much noise, Gotham would be swarming with capes in minutes.
He needed to end this.
Now.
Jason reached for his pistol, but Natasha was faster. She caught his wrist, twisting sharply. He countered, forcing her back just enough to pull free.
Clint landed on the scaffolding above them, bow drawn.
“How about we talk?” Clint suggested.
Jason wiped a bit of blood from his lip. “How about you get out of my city?”
Natasha tilted her head. “You’re not what we expected.”
“Yeah?” Jason cocked his gun. “Then you’re dumber than I thought.”
A moment of silence.
Then, from the distance—
Sirens.
Jason tensed. GCPD.
Damn it.
He didn’t have time for this.
He turned, threw down a smoke pellet, and vanished into the shadows.