Chapter Text
Desperate men stooped to desperate levels. Jason Todd was no exception; but as he walked escorted by two guards and one Amanda Waller, he began to wonder if his desperate measures had driven him beyond the point of no return. The cold informal walls of Belle Reve gave way to a tarmac full of heavily armored cars. The empty back was opened, and Jason willingly hopped inside, sitting on one of the cold metal benches and watching absentmindedly as the doors were shut behind him.
Sitting back, he felt the van hum to life, replaying his life choices in his head. Really it started the day he asked to be robin, a culmination of events landing him in Belle Reve, and subsequently Amanda Waller's TaskForce X. But hey, it'd been one heckuva deal. Three years serving on the TaskForce in exchange for a clean record and a new name.
Apparently, joining TaskForce X hadn't been a choice. Amanda had told him plainly that he wouldn't be getting his stay in Belle Reve no matter what. Of course he had just told her that he had no qualms about dying again. He'd see to it that one of their rambunctious and top secret missions would be his last, unless she agreed to his deal. Of course Waller hadn't been pursuaded easily, but apparently the woman had a healthy respect for Gotham's Batman and a certain Alien Metropolis Boyscout with ties to the newspaper. Regardless of the tenuous relationship between Todd and the Bat, no one wanted to see what happened when Waller got the Red Hood killed for a second time.
Some would call Jason's threat suicidal. He called it a bluff, one that got Amanda worried enough to fold. So that's how one Jason Todd earned himself a seriously reduced prison sentence and a spot on Waller's top secret TaskForce X. She hadn't stopped giving him a cold yet somewhat impressed glare.
"So where are we?" Jason huffed, casting a glance at the underground parking garage the van had pulled into as the guards unloaded him. The place was filled with vans and armed guards. They put the guards at Belle Reve to shame; but then again, some of the most dangerous criminals in the world were being held at this facility. According to Bruce's files, Belle Reve had been the first base of operations for the TaskForce... until the Joker broke Harley out.
"That's confidential." Waller replied calmly, walking slightly ahead towards a raised platform with ramps leading up to it. There was a door leading deeper into the base; and for the first time since this wild adventure began, he began to actually get worried. His fingers curled until crescent moons from his nails began indenting his palms. He closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath. He tried not to take into account the fact that they were under ground.
"Hood."
He inhaled, jerking his gaze to the tall austere looking woman. She had an eyebrow raised. He straightened his shoulders. "I hate being underground." He remarked coolly. No way was he saying why. He didn't need to give Amanda ways to antagonize him. So wisely, he clammed up and trudged towards the door in the wall. Amanda used both a hand print and a retinal scan to open the door, ushering him into a lobby like room with three more doors, one on each wall. There was a table next to the door on the left, a scientist with a wicked looking injector standing next to it.
"Tracker." The word rolled off Hood's lips before he could think to stop it. "Knowing you, probably explosive too. Gotta have some way to keep the crazies in line."
"Astute observation." Amanda replied, stopping at the door and turning to face him. Jason, without prompting, pulled the neck of his orange jumpsuit down to make it easier. Nothing quite prepared him for the hiss and temporary blinding pain as a piece of metal was inserted into the muscle. An ultra sound reader was pressed to his neck, a hand held monitor displaying the capsule to the scientist.
"Gah!" He mumbled, rubbing his neck and batting the device away. "Could'a warned me."
Waller folded her hands behind her back. "You are not to kill or attempt to kill any of your fellow team mates. Those chips have a stun capacity that is... unpleasant." Jason pressed his lips together silently. "If a guard tells you to do something, you are expected to obey without question. Attempts to escape are ill-advised. Since you'll have minimal interaction with the guards, it will be nigh near impossible as well. I stop in once a day. Any questions you might have are to be directed to me then. Do you have any questions?"
Jason stared at her silently.
"That's what I thought." She huffed, undoing his cuffs and stepping aside. In addition to the typical hand print and retinal scan, this door required two different vocal commands and a code. The cold, metal door with a reinforced glass window the size of a mail slot pulled into the wall. Jason walked through without invitation, listening to the silent hiss as it slid closed. He expected something cold and informal, not a shoddy attempt at a high tech apartment. He was standing in a big living room with a TV in a cage on the wall. There were couches, a shelf bolted to the wall with board games and hard cover books, and a rug. The walls ended a good forty feet up, and above that was an empty space with Catwalks and guards. He realized that the roof was way above the walls, giving it a slightly empty feel.
There was an arch leading into the kitchen, where the distinct sound of chatter could quite clearly be heard. Picking his way past the couches and coffee table, he meandered into the kitchen. As his foot cross the threshold, five heads turned his direction. At the same time, Waller's cold and formal drone could be heard blaring across the speakers. "TaskForce. Meet your newest member. Play nice and try not to kill him. I don't want Batman breathing down my neck and neither do you." There was a click as Waller went offline, leaving a slightly irked Jason Todd standing in the door.
Thanks Waller. Just brand me as a bat kid now why don't ya...
Floyd Lawton was staring at him, jaw tight; Quin was looking a few shades paler than normal; Santana was smiling slightly, not looking either intimidated or upset to see him; Harkness didn't bother to even look at him; and croc, or Jones, was giving him an indecipherable look. Jason stood there awkwardly for a moment.
Finally, when it became evident no one had anything to say, the nineteen year old rubbed the back of his head. "Is there a bathroom around here? Waller didn't let me go before I left Belle Reve."
That seemed to break the tension, Santana pointing to a hallway just off the kitchen. Jason walked down the hall, hesitant to turn his back to his new 'roomies.' There were four bedrooms with bunks and a bathroom. He slipped in the bathroom, closed the door, and gripped the sink. Just what the heck had he gotten himself into?
"Holy crap." Harkness breathed, finally looking up with wide eyes. "Did Waller seriously throw a Bat in with us?"
"Can't say it's a bad idea." Santana shrugged.
"Which one is he, though? And why's he in here?"
"The second Robin." Everyone stilled at Harley's voice. She had pushed her plate away. "Goes by Red Hood these days, the only Bat that kills. Word was that his own brother turned 'im in... He's been in Belle Reve's solitary for a coupla' months now."
"Sheesh." Lawton huffed. "I knew the bats had problems but throwing your own family in jail-"
"There's no one more emotionally constipated than the batman." Everyone jumped at Hood's reappearance, whipping around to face the door. He was leaning with his shoulder against the door frame, a wary look in his aquamarine green tinged gaze. "And Nightwing had his reasons for throwing me in Belle Reve." The kid walked over, grabbing Harley's plate of food without permission and standing a good distance from the rest of them. He glanced up. The guards were keeping a watchful gaze on the huddle of criminals from their perch far above.
"You could always get your own grub." Harley hissed, eyes boring into his darkly. She didn't know everything about the second Robin, only that her precious Mistah J had done him in at some point... and his death didn't stick.
"Sure." Jason replied, taking a bite with Harley's fork, wrinkling his nose and putting the steak back down. "Gross, overcooked. I think I will."
"What's your problem, man?" Lawton demanded. "You walk in here like you own the place, and-"
"I don't own the place. If I did, you all would be dead." Hood cut in, eyes gleaming angrily. "Especially her-" He pointed at Quinn. "As it stands, it was either join with benefits or without . So I chose benefits. I don't have to like this particular arrangement, and neither do you..."
"Why aren't you out there like Katana?" Santana asked, not at all maliciously.
"Because I'm a wanted criminal, a purebred crime alley crime lord... to be specific. Ask Harley. She'd know... since I wiped out her and Joker's gang a few month back."
"Found my general's head in a bag." Harley murmured, poking at her food. Lawton shot Hood a distrustful look. The carefully created ease amongst the criminals had vanished. Waller was insane for throwing a member of the elusive batfamily in their little gang of insanity driven nutcases. How did she plan on integrating him into the team? The sad part was that Jason looked as wary of them as they were of him.
"Katana's already on Waller's payroll... I turned down the offer months ago... should'a taken it; but hey... we're both walkin' away somewhat happy. I join her lively little pets for a few years, and then get my record scrubbed."
As if.
Jason wasn't stupid enough to think that Waller had any intention of upholding her end of the deal. He'd cross that bridge when and if he got to it. Worst case scenario, he could escape and go back to being Gotham's most wanted criminal gang lord. The looks of disbelief on their faces proved that Jason's suspicions were well founded. In the eyes of Amanda Waller, if she didn't uphold her end of the deal, who'd know?
"Hopefully, we can come to trust each other." Santana stated finally, looking him dead in the eye with a strange sincerity. Jason knew who he was, knew his tragic past. He didn't harbor quite the same distaste for the man as he did for Deadshot, Boomerang, or Quinn. Croc, who hadn't said a word, snorted in agreement. The others didn't look quite so sure that they wanted to cast their lots in with a bat. Not that Jason could honestly blame them.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he could somehow survive the next few years with his mortal, semi-hated enemies.
Santana had graciously offered to bunk with him, as had croc. Since Croc required a lot more room, Jason took Santana's room. The bedrooms weren't ornate or even pretty, cold metal walls with one bunk bed, two trunks and a side table. The lamp was solid metal and bolted down. Jason retreated from the kitchen warily, taking the bottom bunk and keeping his back to the wall, face to the door. He tried to look relaxed, but the stress was actually getting to him.
Criminals were adept at finding ways around the rules. Thankfully, guards kept eyes on them at all times up in the catwalks that crisscrossed above the mini-house. Unfortunately that meant even the bathroom wasn't private. Jason felt like his bottom bunk was probably the safest place for him. Waller had given them basic amenities, but no real weapons... Well Jason could probably kill someone with a pencil. He recalled seeing that in a movie somewhere.
He could make do.
Jason had done intensive research into the TaskForce back when he thought they might be a threat to his Gotham operations. He hadn't known Quinn was on the team. And that spooked him. Sleeping anywhere near her was a freaking nightmare. He had already done a thorough check for anything crow bar related. It had gotten a few raised eyebrows. Hours passed, and he hadn't moved. The chatter died, people took turns in the bathroom, occasionally peeking in curiously or with contempt.
Finally Santana walked in, arms filled with books. He kicked the door shut behind him. "I brought books. Do you like to read?"
"No." Jason replied a little too quickly. At Santana's skeptical look, he sighed. "Whaddya got?"
"Shakespeare, O'Henry, H.G Wells... Classics mostly."
"They're the best." Jason remarked, watching carefully as Santana laid the books out. "I never was into them graphic novels or young teen books." He rubbed his hand across the heavy covers, choosing a collection of Shakespearian plays."
Santana hummed in acknowledgment. "I was always partial to O'Henry. He had a good way of twisting the endings of his stories."
"Yeah. I s'pose that's true. Trying to decipher Shakespeare's always been a pretty nice challenge though. My teachers said I had a knack for it..." Jason opened the scraggly book, feeling the bed jolt as Santana climbed up to the top bunk with his choice of books. "So how'd you convince Waller to give ya a place like this?"
"We pulled enough missions off and, Waylon requested it. No one really argued... Think Waller has a soft spot for 'im. Not sure why though."
"Eh he's not all bad. I read B's reports on 'im."
"B?"
"Batman."
"Oh. I didn't realize you had an endearing term for someone so troublesome to your operations."
"I called 'im that when I was Robin... never really dropped it I guess."
Santana went silent, the sound of pages rustling filling the room. Jason's mind was only half on his reading, the bat side never letting its guard down. He wouldn't be lulled into a false sense of security. While he didn't deem Santana or Croc a threat at the moment, he had much to fear from Deadshot and Quinn. He wasn't sure what he thought about Boomerang, just that the total decimation Boomerang had wrought upon the flash museum was more than a little amusing. He wondered how much it would cost to get someone to take out the batburger.
Despite Jason's best attempts to stay awake, he dropped off around 3:00 Am.
He heard screaming, felt someone gripping his arms, shaking him, calling his alias. That's when he realized he'd been screaming. Why? He couldn't remember. Fragments of a dream gone by twirled in the farthest reaches of his mind, jumping just beyond mental grasp. He gasped, eyes flying open. Santana's tattooed face was just in front of him, fingers digging almost painfully into Jason's bicep.
"Hood... are you with me?"
Jason nodded jerkily. "Where's the crowbar?" He croaked, vaguely remembering he was doing something with it... or was something being done to him? He couldn't remember.
"Crowbar?" Santana dragged the syllables out in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Nevermind." Jason shook his head, bringing his knees up to his chest as the former gang member released him and stepped back. He wasn't going to apologize for waking anybody. Because they probably deserved it. He hoped somewhere in the back of his muddle mind that Harley had been properly spooked by his haunted cries. "You can go back to bed now."
"Hm." Santana sat at the other end of Jason's bed, clearly with no intent to go anywhere. "Is this a regular occurrence?"
"There's a reason they say bats never sleep ya'know." The retired boy wonder remarked, letting the cool wall soothe his back. "We've seen enough crap to give the boogieman nightmares... But why do you care?"
"You're young, I'd wager not even twenty."
"Maybe... maybe not."
"And-" Santana continued. "You're stuck with us... like it or not. We might as well forego unnecessary fighting. It'll get us nowhere... not if we want to survive."
"Know a lot about survival huh?"
"I know enough."
"Well... thanks." Cause Jason was too tired to figure out anything biting in response to that somewhat touching remark. He'd figure it out later. Santana had to have a double motive. He wanted something. Of that Jason was certain."
The next morning, Santana was gone when Jason woke up. A growl rumbled in his stomach. The silence spooked him, reminded him too much of his cold solitary cell. Something told him he was gonna wish he were. With a sigh, he grabbed the book he threw the covers off, padding across the metal floor and opening the door. Everyone was crowded in the kitchen, quietly whispering to themselves. As soon as he entered the room, it went deadly quiet.
"Don't mind me." Jason huffed. He saw a various assortment of breakfast choices on the counter, mostly cereals and fruit. Jason wrinkled his nose and grabbed an apple, digging his teeth in. Everyone- despite his request- did mind him. He heard the clank of metal and shoes above his head, seeing a whole bunch of guards now aiming rifles down at them. Why? Because the living room door opened, admitting one very irritatingly formal Amanda Waller.
"Task Force X." She called. No one moved. "I trust you had a pleasant night?" This was aimed at Jason more than anyone. He knew for sure that she was aware of his nightmares.
"Kept us up." Lawton griped, spooning super sugary cereal into his mouth. "A----ll night."
Jason shot him a glare. "Well excuse me if her-" He pointed at Quinn. "-ex killing me after days of torture left a bad impression." His snarl had Lawton going wide eyed. He shot a look at Harley who shrugged slightly, not quite meeting anybody's gaze.
"Enough." Amanda sighed. "You have a mission."
The six of them were herded out of the apartment, Guards flanking them almost immediately. "You're headed to California." Waller declared, walking with a quick gait that the others were forced to match. "Your mission is to capture Deathstroke."
Jason snorted.
"What was that, hood?"
"Ya honestly think we can capture Deathstroke?" Jason asked dryly, not all that afraid to voice his opinion. "He's listed as one of the best mercs in the world for a reason, Waller."
"I'm aware. Your objective is to capture him and the data he stole from one of our couriers. Time will be of the essence." Waller stated. "He's supposed to meet Ra's Al Ghul tonight, meaning lots of assassin back up. That's when I want you to strike." She led the way to the hanger. "I know this isn't one of your typical missions; however we certainly don't plan on calling the league in to deal with it. Remember, if you're discovered, you're on your own. You technically don't exist."
"Yeah yeah." Boomering huffed. "So you've said."
"Gear up and get to the hanger. Colonel Flag will meet you at the drop plane."
Several trunks were being hauled out. Hood didn't bother to ask who Flag was. He knew. His trunk had a red mask painted on the top, and the nineteen year old spotted it quickly. Flicking the latches up, he grinned wickedly when his helmet stared back at him, nestled in the jacket he'd been captured in. Ignoring the others, he quickly slipped out of the tacky orange jumpsuit. His guns were resting beneath the folded clothes, armor piercing rounds sitting in cases next to them.
"Man-" Lawton growled when he saw the weapons. "Shootin's my gig! I bet you can't even aim them things."
Hood snapped the gun out, shooting the boomerang George Harkness was holding up. "Hey! What the Frick!" The slightly overweight criminal yelped, dropping the weapon and glaring daggers at the masked teen. The guards jumped, aiming their rifles at Jason.
Hood smirked, jamming his gun into its holster and raising his hands repentantly. The guards kept their weapons trained on him, and Deadshot scowled.
"That's so not fair."
"Hood, save it for the bad guys." Waller grunted.
"Hey!" Harley yelped in protest. "Last I checked, we were..."
"So you're my newest lackey." An uptight brunette huffed, staring at Red Hood with a frown on his face. Jason's impassive mask stared back.
"From Gang lord to lackey. I always have had a crappy life."
That actually got a chuckle from the Colonel as he sat down and strapped in. "How're they treating you?"
"Like I'm a ticking time bomb." Jason replied casually. "Which, I did kinda ask for."
"Asked for!" Harley yelped. "Ya practically threatened to shoot us all."
"No." Hood amended dryly. "I just said if I were in charge I would have. Gotta get the facts straight, Harleen."
Red Hood didn't say a word as the plane took off, focusing on popping his ears and not engaging in idle conversation. They were criminals, worse than he was.
"So you were... the second robin?"
He mentally cursed, glancing at Killer Croc. He gripped the restraints in tight knuckled grips.
"Yeah. I was."
"Why'd you give it up?"
"I didn't give it up." Jason snapped, anger lurking in his voice. It was so raw, so obvious that it shut Croc up. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't press."
For the rest of the ride, no one bothered to talk to him.
"A warehouse... can it get any more cliche?" Hood grumbled, hanging in the shadows with Croc and Harley. Deadshot was covering them from the rooftops, and everyone was poised in wait for Flag's signal.
"Says the guy who stole Mistah J's name."
"He took my life; I took his name. Seems hardly fair... in my favor."
"He always talked about ya." Harley hummed, seeming to ignore the audience. "Said you were his favorite robin to break." Jason clenched his fists.
"I was fourteen." Jason hissed, not missing the look of horror from Santana and the inhale from Flag over the lines. Croc shifted uncomfortably. "He beat me for days with a crowbar and then blew me up. But guess what, Quinn..." Jason glared at her. "I ain't broken.... Not now... Not ever. So yea, I stole his name. Do ya have anything else to say 'bout it?" He leaned in her face, gun clenched in his white knuckled hand. If he shot her, he doubted anyone was going to stop him. Not before she died at least.
"No." Harley squeaked, putting a finger on the barrel of his gun and pushing it away timidly. "Nothin' at all."
"Good." Jason grabbed his other pistol and nodded his head. "Let's get Deathstroke."
Flag didn't even give him grief for taking over the mission.
Jason loved the fact that he could fight to kill. For months, he'd honored the bat's code of conduct; but for once he could cut loose and employ his league of assassin's training. He was aware this gave him an advantage against Ra's' men, and created quite a spectacle to the other TaskForce slaves.
He slipped into a familiar fighting style, driving his daggers into men's necks, blasting their skulls open, gutting them with a brutal efficiency that would have made Batman shudder. It was like a fog covered his brain, muscles moving with years of fighting memory to guide them. Only when he got close to the others did he snap back into reality. He had to save Croc from a flash grenade, barely thinking twice about it. The air heated up as Santana engaged Deathstroke. Jason had lost track of Ra's.
"Where's the data?" Jason demanded, getting right in the middle of the fight with Slade. He quickly traded out, letting the 'fire demon' handle the assassins while he ducked a well aimed round house kick.
"Look at you." Slade sneered coldly. "The Bat's most brutal fighter, a slave to the government." He easily parried all of Jason's blows, delivering a few brutal helmet cracking strikes instead. "I could help you." He mutters, spinning Jason and pinning his back to Slade's chest with an arm around the teen's throat.
"No thanks." Jason drops his weight, tucking his chin, sticking his leg out and flipping the assassin. Deathstroke landed flat on his back, receiving a hammer to the face mere moments later in an attack that not even Jason saw coming. It was almost comical how simple yet effective the attack was. Jason just gaped at Quinn, the lopsided grin on her face making his eyes narrow.
"We needed to know where the info was!" Flag growled into their comms. Jason knelt down, tucking his pistol against Slade's chin and patting the assassin down with deft fingers.
"Found it." He slipped a thumb drive from a pouch in Slade's belt. "I can't freaking believe that Harley took him down with one blow."
"I doubt he was expecting a hammer to the face." Deadshot remarked. "Good work Harley."
{DAY 3}
With astounding praise from Waller, the weary TaskForce turned in. Jason hadn't showered yet, but he didn't dare spend more than a minute in the bathroom... That and having an audience made it awkward. He felt caged in the apartment, surrounded by people who had every reason to hate him, and just as much motive to shoot him in the head. He skipped supper and just crawled in bed, pretending to be asleep. It gave him unique insight.
He was aware of Killer Croc popping his head into his room. Santano hadn't arrived, and Jason had to suppress a wave of panic. Had he been wrong? Did Croc plan on ending him? Weylon walked over, clawed hand stretching out as if to wake him. Then he looked away, grunting softly. Carefully, the beast cleared the books off his bed, setting them in a stack beside the bunk to give Jason more room before he wandered back out. Jason let out a breath. Santana came in an hour later, settling into bed. Soon the lights flicked off, shuffling continued; and it went quiet. An hour later, Jason sneaked out to grab a cup of espresso. Being a bat meant training in the dark. He easily grabbed a cup from the cupboard, turning the machine on and listening to it whir to life.
Just as the machine started filling his cup, Jason tilted his head. A foot step. The lights switched on. The teen spun. Lawton stood in the kitchen doorway, hand falling from the switch.
"You know, normal people usually go to sleep this time of night. Especially when they don't have anything else to be doin'."
"An' who said I was normal?" Jason replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Bats are nocturnal."
"Yeah don't give me that bull crap." Lawson huffed, crossing his arms. "Move over and let me get a cup." Jason silently complied. With a frown, he watched Lawson make his own espresso, eyes glazed over and half asleep. Jason wondered why Lawson had bothered to join him this late. Maybe it was a matter of trust.... or rather lack there-of. Jason opened the fridge, finding it well stocked with pre-made meals. They were in packages, bland. Jason took a few out, cracking his knuckles and glancing at the stove. He could make this work. Digging through the drawers, he found a few spices in the cabinet, oil, pans, a spatula, and some packets of broth.
"Fine, ya want the truth? I half expect some'ne to drive a pencil through my eye while I'm tryin' to sleep." Jason admitted, heating the oven and grabbing a baking pan. "Ya all have a good reason to hate me."
"True." Lawton admitted, sitting at the bar and watching him curiously. Jason opened a packet of broccoli, another of carrots, and some baby corn. Then he sprinkled some oil in the pan, plopping the vegetables in, mixing them, and sprinkling a myriad of spices over the top. "But that's what the guards are for."
"If ya wanted to kill me, ya could... before they had much a say in it." Jason remarked, pointing up. "Been there. Done that. Not happenin' again."
"I know. You mentioned it." Lawton debated his words carefully. "The Joker, huh?"
"Yeah, we're not talkin' about that." Jason snapped, sliding the pan into the oven. "It's dun an' over with."
"Clearly it isn't. Not if you're bringing it up on public comm channels." The marksman replied, taking a long drought of his coffee, not even wincing when his tongue burned. "Look, I get it. Not great for the tough man image. But it's sick." Jason stared at him in shock.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Lawton, leaned back in his seat. "I don't care about why you're in here, what you've done... The Joker is a sick freak... especially if he brags about torturing and killin' a fourteen year old kid. Doesn't matter if you were robin. That. Is. beyond messed up." Floyd set his mug down, dragging a hand down his face. "I have a kid... not far off from your age. If someone did that to her... I-" He let out a breath. "I'd break. I'd go crazy... and you're right I don't trust you... but I'm not gonna ridicule you about your nightmares anymore. I'm sorry. No one... No one should ever be doing that to a kid... not even a vigilante kid."
Jason wasn't quite sure what to say about that; so he just lowered his head.
"I'm surprised the Batman didn't snap." Lawton continued, failing to realize that he'd wandered into dangerous waters.
"You and me both." It was so bitterly said that Floyd was taken aback. "But he didn't..." Jason lowered his head. "He didn't."
"Oh..." That look on the kid's face. Lawton knew exactly what it was. Betrayal, anger, hurt. And somewhere inside, the father in him cried out in outrage... in pity.
TBC