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His eyes opened sleepily, his vision momentarily blurring before coming back into focus once more. He was tied up in some dingy, dusty, old warehouse. Brings back good memories. His kidnapper hadn’t even had the decency to spring for a chair with a cushion in it, just hard wood. Bats wouldn’t treat him like this, he always treated him like a gentleman, this was someone different.
“You’re up. That’s good, I was worried for a second I killed you with just the blow to your head. That wouldn’t have been satisfying enough,” a voice projected from behind him, its owner quickly walking towards him, spinning the shitty chair around to face Him.
“Boy wonder.” He smiled as the figure came more into focus. “Always good to see your face- er- helmet.” Eh, not his best material.
The Red Hood, large, imposing, and built like a damn tank loomed above him. His cherry-red helmet glimmered in the dimmed light of the warehouse, his grey body armor was dented from a variety of scrapes he had gotten into, but his usual brown leather jacket was notably missing, and in his slightly trembling left hand he held a crowbar.
“Oh, a crowbar, huh? You know that reminds me of a joke I told our dear friend Batsy once.” He chuckled to himself as he recalled it. “Ok, ok, here it goes. A Robin walks into a crowbar, he says-” He was then, quite rudely by the way, interrupted by the Red Hood clocking him in the face with his crowbar, sending both him and the chair to the ground and across the floor “OW!”
“You don’t get to talk anymore, got it?” Red Hood dropped the crowbar, it landed on the ground with a metallic clatter, followed by a series of metallic clicks, and yet another object falling to the floor.
“Here’s how it’s gonna go.” Red Hood stalked ever closer towards hm, lifting him up by the shirt, chair and all. His full face was now on display, covered only by a red domino mask. Black curls cascaded down his sweat covered face, with a solitary white streak and a pair of bright green eyes denoting his use of the mystical Lazarus Pit. “Tonight, you die. Slowly, and painfully. I’m going to put you through everything you did to me, and then some. Only then will I put you down like the dog you are.” Hate spilled from his mouth like poison as he stared unflinchingly into Joker’s eyes.
“Sounds fun! Where are we going to start?” he mused, looking up at the boy with a wild grin.
Red Hood dropped him to the floor. He craned his neck to see what Red Hood was doing. He met the sight of a gun being cocked with that signature click, and pointed towards him., With a loud bang and a muzzle flash, a searing pain tore through his right leg.
“We’re starting where you did, with the legs. You probably don’t remember, but before you beat me into a bleeding heap on the ground, you shot me in my leg so I couldn’t run.” Oh, he most certainly did remember that, watching the boy writhe in agony on the ground, thinking that he had already experienced the worst, it was a moment he’d likely never forget.
“Did you know that even now, even after coming back from what you did, after everything that’s happened since that day, the bullet you put there is still there? The Lazurus Pit didn't fix that. Did you know that till this day I can’t walk without a dull pain shooting through my leg? I want you to experience that. The panic in your mind as you realize you can’t run anymore, as you realize that even moving is agonizing.” He caught a small amount of joy in the Red Hood’s voice as he said this–some sick, cathartic, glee.
“Oh, and what would our dear old Bat say about all this, Songbird?” he croaked as Red Hood dropped him back to the floor carelessly, the chair finally shattering into splinters beneath him, some even ending up embedded in his back and legs.
Red Hood flinched hearing that name, so it was good to know he still had some power in this situation. “I’m done worrying about what he thinks. I’m doing what I should’ve done years ago… what HE should’ve done years ago!” He punctuated his words with a stomp on Joker’s arm, combat boots meeting and cracking brittle bone.
“Now then, is that any way to treat me?” he crooned, even as Red Hood raised his boot and drew a small pocket knife.“After all, without me you’d be nothing! You should be thanking me really.” Red Hood paused partway through slicing his binds, his body going completely stiff for a moment before regaining his composure.
“I should be-” his grip on the knife tightened, an incredulous wrath tinging his voice. He could tell how badly Red Hood wanted to use that knife to align his spine in that moment. The kid had a clean shot, too, but he quickly regained composure and continued cutting the ropes, throwing him back to the cold, dirty, ground once he was done.
Red hood trudged over to his discarded helmet, the mechanisms which kept it locked onto his head clicking into place, and grabbed the rusted crowbar he had previously let fall from his hands.
“Ah! Onto the main event huh, Songbird?” He laughed, doing his best to sit up as his attacker approached slowly, dragging the crowbar across the floor as he walked, truly–but the uneven stride, one step more painful than the other, brought him what he was sure one of the Bats would call “sick” satisfaction–over.
Damned kid didn’t even dignify him with a response, he just kept on stalking forward, staring down at him. His back pressed up against the wall, as he held his injured arm. Red Hood wound up, holding the crowbar in both hands, bringing it down on his face. He didn’t let up, either–he kept on hitting him, forehand, backhand, in the head, in the ribs, in his already broken arm. The beating didn’t let up for hours, and he could barely even get a word in through it all. Only once he was flat on the ground, coughing up blood and teeth, was Red Hood finally satisfied.
“Felt good to finally get all of that out of my system.” he commented, allowing the crowbar to once again slip from his hand and clatter to the ground.
“Glad you’re feeling fulfilled, Boy Wonder.” The thick taste of watery copper filled his mouth. “I’m guessing you got a little bomb on standby to finish the job?”
Red Hood picked Him up by the neck, raising his limp body into the air, “Not quite, I was thinking of something more permanent, I know better than anyone that those can be… unreliable.”
The Red Hood’s grip on his neck tightened, leaving him just barely enough room to breathe as he raised his other hand to touch his face.
“I’m gonna tell you something, something I know you’re going to hate to hear.” Red Hood sounded like he was smiling ear to ear, like he was on the verge of bursting into laughter himself “The Batman is-” his heart sank, no, no! He couldn’t, he wouldn’t! “-Bruce Wayne.” He felt his entire world shatter around him, his entire reason for being left in crumpled up pieces on the floor of this dirty warehouse. He couldn’t even muster up the will to speak, to retort, to demand proof. Then Red Hood spoke once more. The unfeeling, unblinking, eyes of his helmet staring into his very soul.
“Take it to your grave.”
Jason’s entire body shook as The Joker’s limp body hung in his hands, his final look of shock and horror still painted across his face. His death itself was quick, a mercy Jason had not been afforded back then–one quick simple motion snapped his neck, and that’s all it took. He dragged the body out of the warehouse, his leg aching the whole way, and hastily loaded it into the trunk of his car. He’d drop by some chemical plant on the way back to his apartment to dissolve the body in acid, and he’d stay there for as long as it took for it to dissolve completely. He had to make sure there was no possibility of that psychopath ever coming back.
It was strange, The Joker had loomed over him for his entire life since he was revived. He had always wanted nothing more than to put him down for good, but now that it was done, now that he was driving away, body in his trunk and jacket in his passenger seat, he felt… empty. He should feel good, great even, but he didn’t. Sure he felt good while he tortured Joker, put him through everything he’d been through, but now that it was over, now that he was gone… Jason was left feeling empty, left with one simple question.
“What do I do now?”
The words burned on his lips as he continued to drive. With The Joker gone he should be able to finally move on from all of it, from the choke that sat in his throat when he thought of it, but he couldn’t. He had to find something else, now, something else to occupy his time–his mind–with. and he knew one thing for sure-
Whatever he was looking for, he wouldn’t find it in Gotham.