Chapter Text
Benny was two hours late. That shit happens, especially to a low-life weasel like the guy Jay was meeting. On the other hand, he might not be a lot of things, but Benny was punctual. He was also useful enough to get jobs that put him close to the action. He was clever enough to stay unnoticed. Sooner or later though, one of the power players whose secrets he was selling would catch on and that would be the end of Jay’s one-stop information quickmart. Jay didn’t trust him an inch, but would miss his source when he was inevitably squashed like a roach.
Scowling at his glass, he was ready to call it a wash. Swirling his drink, quality liquor would have clung to the side and had a smooth burn going down his throat. He’d been here long enough that this wasn’t his first drink. He wasn’t here for the quality of the drinks, although they did have some decent stuff behind the top rail. He didn’t like to use the same R-point regularly, but The Drop has a lot to recommend it. From the shadowed vantage point at the short leg of the bar, Jay had full view of the two entrances. His preferred seat kept his back to the corner while offering a peripheral view of the last and least likely way into the room. The mirrors behind the rows of bottles above the bar provided additional lines of sight. When he came in and the bartender poured him “the usual” without asking, he made a note to take the place out of rotation for a while. Randy was good; better than, but if his infrequent visits were enough to make him a regular, he was coming in too often. Randy was good with more than matching faces and drinks. Jay's routine check found a wife, two kids, a pool league with other hard-working clean-nosed guys, and amazing enough tips to keep his family in comfortable working-class style while sending his girls to a better school across town. He didn’t report tips on his taxes, but that was basic money management rather than ethical failure. Randy was a good people. Jay didn’t trust him an inch, but he would miss him when he stopped rendezvousing at The Drop. If Benny had been caught, that would be tonight. Jay knew enough about carrots and sticks to encourage loyalty, but Benny would never stay loyal to anything other than to his own skin and the cash that supported his self-harming habits. Best case scenario, he’d be splattered across the floor before he had the chance to spill the little he knew about Jay.
He’d give it fifteen more minutes before he’d bail. He was torn between taking the night as a dead loss and squeezing in an abbreviated run-through on his way to crash. Short of wholesale societal reform, there would always be work keeping the dark places from collapsing into the bad sort of anarchy. Crime wasn’t limited to cities, but every city had its version of the narrows. He couldn’t keep his thumb on all of them, but he could help out with the one in front of him, for old time sake. It was times like this where he found himself in bemused agreement with Ra’s and his better-world-order goals. Not that a monomaniac trying to fix the world by tearing it apart ever came out well. Why does no one remember Cambodia when making plans for world domination? Jay smiled tightly and coughed into his fist to cover his dark amusement. Sitting alone at the bar and laughing to himself wouldn’t be inconspicuous. Short of a magical benevolent revolution, there would always be work breaking heads and taking names for the next round of head breaking. Sometimes he missed the straightforwardness of hands-on work behind the mask, rather than this backroom management of espionage bullshit.
There were things he could get done tonight, but there were more important things to do tomorrow. Lately, his body had developed a finer appreciation for sleep. Work-life balance was a joke, as ever, but running on no rest and Zesti-aid would put him flat on his back these days. Bright-eyed at fourteen, he never thought he’d be sitting alone in a bar contemplating the compromises of middle age. Jay snorted. Bruce was still running parkour across rooftops and jaunting off into space. His joint had to be killing him. Jay had his suspicions about how much of Bruce’s cartilage was still terrestrial in origin and how much was Kryptonian nanotech. He’d be damned if he’d let the old man show him up. If Benny showed, his excuse had better be more impressive than Jay could come up with off hand or he'd take his nostalgia out on the guy.
Expecting nothing, he scanned the booths on the opposite wall one last time. No Benny; time to pay up and call it a night. Reaching into his pocket to grab a couple of bills to toss on the bar, the shiver of someone being too damn close prickled the back of his neck. How in the *hell* had someone gotten onto the stool next to him without being seen? Based on his damned life, he shouldn’t be surprised at the impossible showing up at his elbow. It was rare that anyone could catch him unaware or have the nerve to pull up next to him. He was well past his resurrection crazies of randomly stabbing anyone in reach, but he could still work the dangerously crazy vibe to cut the amount of shit he had to put up with. Dealing with vodka-fueled delusions of invulnerability wasn’t the way he would prefer to end what was likely his last night at a bar he enjoyed. Sizing up the guy with a side-eyed glance, he adjusted his assessment of the likelihood of a physical confrontation from “would prefer not to” into “may need to” with a side of “strongly prefer not to”. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to radiate “do-not-approach”. He rarely came across someone big enough and with enough presence to make him feel scrawny. Objectively, the guy wasn’t that much bigger, but he carried himself aggressively. The night was not getting better. Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, he sipped his drink and held it in his mouth for a second before swallowing briskly. Across the bar, Randy poured two fingers of Highland Park Single Malt into a glass and slid it to Mr. Danger. He took a savoring sip and nodded his approval before Randy left to take care of the rest of the crowd.
Jay nonchalantly released the tension from his shoulders. Obvious tells are for amateurs. He didn’t like the deference in Randy’s pause any more than he would have liked it from Alfred. The master of his domain shouldn’t scuttle. He was definitely getting too attached to the place.
“Share the joke, Todd. I could always use a laugh.”
Bloody *hell*. Between that voice, the build, and glimpse of white hair, he recognized the guy. His almost-right voice vibrated between Jay’s ribs and curled into his chest; reminding him of comfort and home with a dose of I’m-going-to-die-messily. Home had never been unambiguous.
“Well golly, Chuckles, how did you know I’m here to entertain you?” Fabulous, open-ended questions encourage conversation; better to cut and run, or snark and saunter. From his experience stalking targets, he knew that running only encourages predators. Bantering in the face of death was his shtick, but bantering with Deathstoke required significant planning, a ready diversion, and lower potential for collateral damage. Propping his chin in his palm, he channeled all his don’t-give-a-fuck-to-see-you into his grin when he looked over at Wilson. Wilson unnecessarily straightened the collar of his leather field jacket and smirked at him over his glass. The exit that would best keep his back facing away from Wilson didn’t provide optimal cover once he left the building. On the other hand, breaking for the best cover would leave him shuffling backwards like a ridiculous performance artist with a terrible sense of timing.
“You already are. I see you casing the doors”, sharp amusement bright in Wilson’s voice, before slipping to a different register. “Think of it as a training exercise.” Jay’s smile cracked along the edges. He covered the flinch, but his eyes were meaner. No matter how mercilessly he dug out that trigger, the bat-voice may as well be physical hook in his gut dragging him to attention.
“I just love pointless drills, Batman!”
“Hnn. Nice.” His smile would have been pleasant if the light in his eye wasn’t so hard. “Better than other bat-lings I’ve baited. I haven’t heard a Robin that chipper since Grayson was punching sharks in his panties”.
“I have zero interest in stories about Grayson’s panty sharks and have never found celebrity impression diverting. *If* you’ll excuse me. Places to be. People to thwart…” Closest door, it is. Rolling to his feet – his butt slammed back down onto the inadequately padded stool. Wilson’s hard, *damn huge* hand squeezed Jay’s shoulder sharply, flexing the cartilage before letting go.
“Relax, Todd. I’m enjoying our talk. I haven’t had my dose bat-angst in too long.”
“Afraid I’m fresh out, Wilson. I haven’t had a bat-*anything* for a long time.”
“Kid, you’re not old enough for a “long time” to apply to you. It’d be a shame to forget your roots.”
Roots didn’t have a lot to recommend them. Jay’s smile was mostly teeth. “Nah, I believe in burning bridges. Nuking cities might be overkill.”
Wilson’s expression flickered darkly before settling into a sour twist.
“Touché.” He tipped his glass in salute and knocked back the rest of his very nice scotch. Jay raised his empty glass, miming a toast, and put it back on the bar. Wilson looked speculatively between Jay and the glass before rapping on the bar and gesturing for Randy. Randy put down the drink he was mixing and hustled over. “I’ll take another.” Wilson smirked, “and one for - ”
“I’ll have another.” Jay gestured to his own glass.
Randy glanced uncomfortably between them. He wasn’t going to piss one of them off by following the other’s instructions. Smart man.
“I’m buying. You don’t need to be a cheap date.”
Jay arched an eyebrow and waited; like he based his drink choices on price. Thinking of the powerhouses – tougher than Wilson – he’d taken down made it easier to keep his expression mild while looking him in the eye.
“Your loss; passing up Highland Park for that swill.” Randy poured Wilson’s drink from a dusty bottle off of the top rail and Jay’s from an unlabeled bottle under the bar. Wilson nodded permission for Randy to return to mixing the drink he’d abandoned. Shaking his head at Jay’s glass, “it’s a damn shame.”
Eyes on his glass, Jay smiled before downing his drink. Wilson snorted.
“If that’s the way you’re going to treat your drink, you deserve what you’ve got.” He smiled at Jay like they were sharing a joke. Jay was at a loss. Hostility, he expected. Laughing off aggression was all in a day’s work. The bland amusement set him on edge. He calculated the likelihood of success against the indignity of being shoved back onto his seat. Jay suppressed a sigh and stayed parked on the stool.
“Is there something you want? I’ve had about all of the fun here I can stand.”
“You didn’t say you were looking for fun.” Wilson purred. He had to be messing with him. He watched Jay sharply. Jay had enjoyed watching opponents twist when he used a similar gimlet stare. Unless – he really hoped he was reading this wrong. He squeezed his eyelids shut too tightly to pass off as a blink.
“Look, I wore that short pants long enough to recognize a Pervy Robin Fancier when I meet one, but”, he waved his hand in front of his chest, “This isn’t the Robin you are looking for.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding me. Also, that only works on the weak willed.” Wilson chuckled. “You’re dating yourself with movie references.”
“I’m. *I’m* dating myself… It’s a classic. The hell?” The fact that he was having this conversation was surreal and it had taken a sharp left turn. Was he trying to be *companionable*? Jay eyed him critically and decided to bite. “You caught the reference.”
“The original was popular again when my… Kids.”
Their drinks were suddenly fascinating. He'd heard about some shit that had happened with Joseph and Rose while he was dancing around with Eurasia's Most Wanted. If half of it was true, Jay didn't want to come within a mile of it.
Movement in the mirror behind the bar caught Jay's eye. The way the guy was skulking towards the back booths screamed *LOOK AT ME* to anyone with a suspicious nature. Of course Benny had to show up now. That gave Jay the pleasure of choosing between compromising his contact to Slade Fucking Wilson or missing the chance to get the information he was waiting for. The flashdrive could be lifted easily enough, but a failed attempt at the password would wipe the data and blow the drive. The operation would be significantly delayed if he didn’t talk to Benny tonight. The opportunity to torment the little creep for wasting his time was also worth taking into account.
“Well, it’s been fun.” Wilson laced his fingers together and stretched his muscled arms above his head, watching Benny in the mirror. His shirt pulled tight and the leather sleeves of his jacked creaked. Jay eyed him, nonplussed for a second. He’d seen more remarkable things that Deathstroke in a stretch-fit button down with leather bunching at his shoulders. Wilson reached under his jacket, ever so casually.
Jay pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t suppose I could convince you not to kill my snitch.” Without much hope, he added, “Professional courtesy?”
The good cheer he turned on Jay boded poorly. “Last time we discussed professional courtesy, you fell all over yourself trying to convince me that we weren’t in the same field and that there was no reason to kill you outright as competition.” Wilson smiled, “Suddenly you want to join the club. How *mercenary* of you.”
“Pointing out we aren’t in the market for the same jobs isn’t falling all over myself.” Jay had a bad feeling about Benny’s odds tonight. That someone would pay Wilson’s fee over the squirt smacked of mystery. Jay did love a good mystery. He flashed a grin, “Any number of people would like to have an in on a mercenary club. I believe that more nimble birds than I have bent over backwards to trying to get it. That sort of intel is solid currency. Do you carry cards? Have matching tattoos? Tell me about your identifying marks.”
Wilson leaned back against the bar, resting his weight on his upper arms. He watched Jay narrowly for long enough that a younger Jay would have either squirmed or lashed out, probably both. Jay smiled back with exaggerated politeness.
“I thought you didn’t want to hear about Grayson’s panty-sharks. There’s professional courtesy and then there are favors. Are you asking me for a *favor*, Todd?”
“Hm. I don’t know, Wilson. Favors make the world go ‘round. Hypothetically, what kind of pay back would you expect?”
“Hypothetically, I might like you to owe me.”
“Hypothetically, I might want predetermined scope and veto options.”
“And they say Drake is the clever one. Negotiation is always more satisfying when it’s a challenge.”
He hadn’t seen little Robbie Red, or any of them, in what felt like years. Like fuck he cared what holes they’d dug for themselves, but he the idea of Drake negotiating with Deathstroke twisted his gut. He shouldn’t worry about Drake being out-classed. Jay wasn’t at the top of the game because he was squeamish.
“Your expression,” Wilson hummed a laugh. “And you were doing devil-may-care so well. Drake. Who would have thought?”
“Please do keep that piece of misinformation, whatever it may be, in the forefront of your mind,” Jay responded lazily. “Be sure to plan future action around it, critical ones even." Benny was twitching in his booth. This needed to end, post haste.
“I’m feeling generous,” Wilson said. “Meet me for a drink when I call and I won’t kill your snitch immediately. We can discuss *scope* and *deferment* then.”
Leaving things open-ended with Wilson was willfully reckless. Taking the offer at face value, he was agreeing to, actually, very little. Just the time it took to down a drink and wrangle a pointless negotiation. After his meet up, he didn’t care if Benny bit it. Wilson wouldn’t have any leverage.
Wait –
“Would ‘not immediately’ cover more or less than ten minutes?”
“It could cover more.”
Jay waited.
Wilson’s grin was sharp and pleased. “It covers at least ten minutes.”
“Done,” Jay flipped out a card with the number for a dry cleaner and an alphanumeric code penciled below it. Keying the passcode into the messaging service's prompt would route the call to an online voice account, not that he bothered explaining that. If Wilson couldn't figure it out and ended up talking with the unapologetically clueless employees at the Spotless Automat, it was no skin off Jay’s ass. He slid off his seat. The planned arch of his approach avoided blind spots, especially ones filled by known assassins.
“Oh, and Todd – feel free to order something other than apple juice next time.”
Jay snapped his attention back to the smug bastard at the bar. Wilson tapped the side of his nose with his index finger. Damn it, enhanced senses told Wilson exactly how much lack of alcohol was in Jay’s drink. Jay learned a long time ago that matching drinks with marks was easy when it’s apple juice against bourbon. He hadn’t planned on a drinking contest, but better prepared than dead drunk. Wilson’s going along with Jay’s little show made it look like some creepy collaboration when he was called on it.
Wilson flourished the card between his fingers before tucking it into the breast pocket of his button down and flapped his hand in a patronizing shooing motion. Jay raged inwardly before he stuffed his anger back down. Flicking Wilson a mocking two finger salute, he stalked away less carefully than he planned.
Benny cringed when Jay slid into the booth across from him. He was always twitchy, but he was cowering suspiciously tonight. He seemed more nervous once Jay had joined him. Not that Jay would mind giving him a reason to worry. The only reason he’d spent the end of his night in fresh hell was because he had still been waiting at the bar when Wilson came in. If Benny had been on time, he would have been long gone. He pressed his palms flat on the table and leaned forward. Starting with a loom was always good for the mood.
“So, Benny, what amazing things do you have for me?” Benny shrunk further into his seat. Jay radiating residual irritation was probably not easing the guy’s nerves. Pity. Benny’s hand jittered to a pocket inside his coat. He slid the flash drive across the table with all of the subtly of a high school kid buying beer from a sleaze behind a liquor store.
“My friend, you seem off tonight. Why don’t you tell Uncle Red all about it?” The way he had already worked himself up made intimidating him too easy for Jay to enjoy.
“Uh.” Benny’s eyes flickered around the room like he was playing a life or death game of eye-spy. “Uh.” His ferrety eyes were rimmed with white as he visibly tried to pull himself together. “I. Uh. I got. Overbooked? Tonight? I didn’t want to, Red. I know your time is. Uh. Important?”
“Is that really a question?” Jay asked coldly. Had Benny started using something new and vastly more impairing? The patience Jay had for addicts didn’t extend to someone with Benny’s irredeemable personality. “Tell me more about being overbooked. Are you cheating on me, you little information whore? When I buy your time, I expect you to say bought.”
“I got the stuff you wanted,” Benny whined and pushed his hand through is lank thinning hair. “It’s all there. Uh, honest? There’s even a little more than you asked for! No extra charge!”
Jay had learned glaring from the best. It was one of his first lessons while he was still tied to a chair snarling at an urban legend. Silent pressure is your friend.
“It’s not like you, uh, expected? You… I have other contacts. Have to have other contacts...”
“Ah Benny, I’m just shitting you.” Jay’s grin was still malicious. Benny squirmed. Of fucking course, he would stumble over being called a whore. “Calling you a whore is hardly fair. Most prostitutes are decent hardworking folks.” It’s the fuckers who push them into a corner and leave them with no choices who deserve the punishment.
He felt eyes on him from the bar and knew his time was ticking away. Even though he'd have to cut this short, he should probably let up on the guy before he pissed himself in what were almost certainly his last moments of life.
“So, the word?”
“McGuffin.”
“Seriously? The password is ‘mcguffin’? Tell me you’re not serious.”
“The ‘I’ is a ‘1’”, Benny whined.
Rolling his eyes, he tossed an envelope across the table and into Benny’s lap. Benny’s hands clenched around it convulsively.
“Tell you what. Since you gave me “a little extra”, I’ll give you something back.” Jay glittered at him and lounged back against the bench seat. He stretched both arms across the shoulder high padding; vinyl, for easy cleaning. “While I waited, oh how I waited, I learned something interesting at the bar.” Benny started to turn his head towards the bar before snapping back to Jay like he was on a spring. “You should definitely look. Left corner. My left.” Wilson’s dark jacket and slacks faded in the dim lighting, but his white hair stood out well enough. Benny squeaked miserably and looked pleadingly up at Jay. “Why, I don’t believe I’ve heard a grown man make that sound in ages.” It wasn’t true, but it suited. Gesturing to Wilson, Jay said, “We had a lovely conversation.” Benny’s squeak changed to a something like air escaping from the stretched neck of a balloon. “You should thank me that you’re not already bleeding out. I have one more thing for you.” Jay propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward, “Run.”
Benny panted twice and jerked a look between Jay and Wilson before he broke for the door. Jay wondered how far he’d get in three minutes. There was no way Wilson wouldn't catch Benny or dig him out of whatever hole he found, but there was a certain satisfaction in not making his hit easier. Wilson raised an eyebrow, waved a two finger salute (back at ya), and sauntered out of the bar after Benny.
Tomorrow, Jay would add Benny’s final report to his files and follow up with his future ex-employer. He'd need to track down the likely candidates he’d identified as potential replacement snitches. It would take a couple of people to cover Benny’s network and time to get them all in place, but all-in-all, the night could have been worse.