Chapter Text
Jason had been roped into patrolling Gotham alongside the Bats under the psychological torture that was Dick Grayson's nagging.
He had been assigned the older factory district of Gotham, down by the harbor, ingeniously kept away from The Burrows. As any self-respecting Bat knew, the only way of dealing with trauma was to avoid it. (Or, you know, dress up in a nocturnally inspired vigilante-uniform.)
Bruce’s misguided sense of guilt and concern had led Jason to a rather boring patrol of dealing with some teenagers’ game of chicken as they tried to break and enter one of the old facilities; part-time drug dealers with little to no profit; and worst of all the freezing night air that threatened to leave his baby-making abilities in jeopardy. But yeah, it would be so nice to work as a family again.
During his last sweep of the night, Jason did however catch sight of something. He crept closer until he had a fairly well-hidden vantage point from a rooftop. The area consisted of late 19th century factory-buildings in red brick with small, ornate, glass windows. Despite the risk of a fire hazard the buildings stood close, making it difficult for moonlight to reach all the way down, embedding the entire area in gloomy darkness. Therefor the two characters dressed in white, catching the feeble light, stood out like torches amongst the shadows. They had emerged from a backdoor of one of the rundown facility buildings, in the midst of a heated argument. However they soon calmed down when met by the cold air. Jason had no chance of knowing what they discussed, he was too far away. The wind wouldn’t carry the words and he couldn’t discern their faces to have a reasonable chance to read their lips.
He considered whether it was a sensible idea to make his way closer when a black van pulled up. The lights illuminated the dark alley. Jason ducked down, just in case. No need to scare them with a looming batshadow™.
A man stepped out of the van. There was a brief exchange and one of the persons clad in white went back inside the building. After a moment they came back pushing a cart carrying some sort of boxes. Jason’s immediate thought was weapon-smugglers, but something about the size of the boxes didn’t quite add up. It looked rather more like the medical supply he had seen at Thompkins’s clinic. Drug dealers then? Jason’s forte, after beating up child-molesters of course.
He watched for a while longer, until the boxes were neatly packed in the van. Then before he could swoop in, Oracle called over the coms that the rest of the Bats needed back-up. Another break out from Arkham. Jason gave a deep sigh and made his way over to his so called family.
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Jason had had every intention of telling Bruce about the mysterious exchange he’d witnessed, but after Bruce once more dismissed Jason’s concern about the security of Arkham, and more prominently the Joker, Jason thought fuck it.
He decided to pursue this case alone.
After spending a couple of nights doing some reconnaissance in the area, Jason had discerned a pattern. The van came in the early hours before dawn, when the night was at its darkest. Only a couple nights a week, these numbers and dates would however change, probably in an attempt to make it less noticeable. Jason patiently did his stakeout every night anyway. The figures dealing with the exchange seemed to be a set number of five, a small group, secretive. Things were only shipped out, never taken into the building.
He used patrol as a cover with the Bats, no need to have them meddling in something he could handle on his own. Jason observed, waited, investigated. After some weeks Jason realized that it assembled a dismantling of a project. It made him even more curious as he subsequently realized he was running out of time. He intended to move in next time. That was until he saw glass cases containing what looked like human organs. A chill trailed down his spine. He was rarely unsettled by his cases, but this felt bad, really bad.
He loaded his gun. With none lethal bullets – cause fuck you and your disappointed puppy eyes, Dick! – and moved in.
Disarming and tying up the three men dealing with the exchange was simple enough. Child’s game really. Jason took a closer look at tonight’s shipment. The glass containers freaked him out, but there were also a lot of medical and scientific equipment that should belong at a million-dollar founded lab and not a deserted factory-building.
This is the point where Jason should have called for back-up.
Obviously he didn’t.
He went through the door, making his way down a badly lit corridor. Further down, a door was left open, electric blue light streaming out. Jason went closer, his gun clenched in a firm grip in front of him. There was another figure milling around, he took them down easily enough, moving further into the room. It really was a deconstructed science lab, he realized. There were still computers running tests but overall it looked emptied out.
Jason moved up to the main computer, displaying stats he couldn’t discern the purpose of. He tried his hand at hacking it, needing to find a way to understand, maybe get a hold of some files that could give him insight. Suddenly grateful for his teenage obsession of illegally downloading games on the batcomputer. Not that Batman hadn't shown them how to hack into secret databases.
He got in. He clicked on a file at random, displaying stats and figures and a short introduction of cells undergoing some sort of genetic transformation. He clicked his way through some more files until he had a weak grasp of the purpose of this particular lab. Genetic modelling. It stank of Cadmus. This was more than concerning. He should have called in the bats. Jason clicked on one last file as he made up his mind that he would com Oracle for backup.
The thought died as soon as the file lay open to him. He was met with the picture of a small child. Black peach fuzz for hair and blue eyes. Underneath there was a description, shortly detailing methods, purpose, genetic set up and results. Jason paled.
He didn’t think, just acted. The Red Hood-training kicking in, effectively kicking Jason out. Almost robotically he managed to produce a memory desk from an inner pocket of his jacket and transferring all the files upon it. Taking one last look at the information concerning the child. Experiment contained in lab room 012.
Jason ran.
Making his way into another badly lit corridor he tried to make out the room numbers, praying to whatever holy deity there is, that he wasn’t too late.
Finally he found it. 012. With every reckless bone in his body he crashed through the door. Despite the rest of the building seeming deserted, this one room bustled with life. There was another four people Jason hadn’t accounted for, all dressed in white lab rocks.
Someone raised a weapon at him and Jason stilled. Then he saw the glass cage that had preoccupied everyone’s attention before he had crashed in. A baby. The baby.
Jason blacked out. Screw Dick’s puppy eyes. He drew his other gun. This was his purpose, ruination. The first bullet caught the man closest to the glass cage in the throat. The one with the weapon went down next, having been to slow to act. It was easy. Jason didn’t need to think. The smell of blood permitted the air as the sound of the fired gun rang in his ear. The baby wailed. It broke his heart.
The bodies lined the floor as Jason plucked the child from the cage. An alarm blaring about an intrusion. Jason tucked the baby close. Ran. Made his way out. Then, like his once master, Jason disappeared in the dark.
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Purpose of experiment: recreating favorable genetic characteristics of two separate donners of excellent genetic set up, with the intention of achieving perfect genetic set up and transferring information gained during the donners’ lifetime.
Method of experiment: genetic cloning
Genetic setup: Former Robins of Batman, Richard Grayson and Jason Todd.
Result: Failure