Chapter Text
“Hood,” snapped Bruce. “Your kill count has tripled this past week. I can’t allow you to continue roaming my streets. From now on my full attention will be dedicated to bringing you in.”
Jason laughed. “Easy there, B. Don’t act all so high-and-mighty. You’d act the same if our positions were reversed. If all you have are rules to keep your morals, what happens when you no longer have any consequences?”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “I don’t refrain from killing because I’m afraid of getting caught.”
“Ha ha hah. This is the funniest thing I’ve heard all night. You’re too wrapped up in your rigid, inflexible moral code, you can’t see what’s right in front of your face. What you do doesn’t work. It never has!”
“What you’re doing is worse.”
“Is it? At least I keep monsters from hurting anyone ever again.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow beneath the cowl. “Who decides who is a monster and who isn’t. You?”
“At least I kill to protect. Gotham’s Rogues kill because they’re greedy. Or for amusement. Everyone I’ve put a target on deserved to die. But enough about that. I didn’t call you here to talk about me. I’m here to talk about you.
“You and I aren’t so different. Rules don’t apply in every situation. If all you have to guide you is rules, do you really know how to be a hero? Or are you just a monster who likes to use them to bludgeon people on the head?”
“Get to the point,” Bruce grit out.
“Well, Bruce, we both know I’m too highly trained to bring in without collateral damage. It’ll be fun, but a lot of people will die if you chase me all over the city. So I propose a deal.”
“A deal?”
“Yes.”
Jason reached up and unlatched his helmet. “I chose the wrong approach last time. Pushing you into making a choice. Pushing Batman into a choice. So you’re going to patrol the city when no one knows it’s you. You’re going to look criminals in the eye, not as Batman, but as someone who everyone expects to kill anyway. No Alfred. No witnesses. No consequences.”
“Tonight, you’re going to patrol…as me.”
“What?”
“Put my helmet on. Go to my headquarters and run my organisation. If anyone tips me off, that it isn’t really me, the deal’s off. They know what to do if they suspect someone impersonating me. If you make it through the night without killing a single person…I’ll let you bring me in. Take me to Arkham. Blackgate. Trap me in your cave or mould me into Robin again. I don’t care. If you kill?” Jason laughed. “Well, good luck trying to ‘reform’ me after that. In fact, you might find it works so well you don’t ever want to hand that helmet back.”
“Sounds like a trap,” said Bruce. “Distract me, cut off my coms, then kill everyone in Arkham.”
“Of course it’s a trap. You won’t win. I know you too well. But I’m only trapping you into doing one thing. Take a life tonight. Either way, this ends at dawn.”
“You’ve spoken like this before.”
“Oh yeah? I have. But it’s different now. There’s no way out—for either of us.” Jason pushed across a bundle of clothes, unholstered his guns, placed his helmet on top then tossed his motorcycle keys down. Then he pulled out a burner and dropped it on the top of the pile. “I’ll text you where to go on that. Meet me back at this warehouse thirty minutes before sunrise. If you’re late, the deal’s off. And no telling Replacement what you’re up to.”
Bruce looked down at the mask, remembering how the Joker had worn one moments before he fell into the vat of acid, and he’d miscalculated and been unable to save him. The Joker was his fault. And now, so was the Red Hood. But tonight, he had a chance to put one of those right.
“Why are you doing this?” asked Bruce. “I’ll gather so much intel I’ll be able to take you down without lifting a finger. You’re handing your empire over on a silver platter.”
For a moment, just for a moment, Jason’s expression flickered from callous bravado to that of a frightened, hurting child. His son. Bruce’s heart hitched. He had to do this. If there was any chance this could win Jason back, that he could show him how to be a hero without killing people, he had to do it.
Bruce walked over to the pile of clothes and gathered them up, leaving the guns. He pressed a button on his wrist to bring the Batmobile inside the warehouse, then crawled inside to change.
A mixture of hope and dread pooled in his stomach. Surly...surely it would be easy to go through with. A gamble like this wasn't what would push him into killing. The boy had done his worst months ago, and Bruce had chosen to inflict a potentially lethal wound in order to buy himself time. He would have stitched Jason’s neck up himself if the Joker hadn't decided it would be fun to shoot the explosives. This was just a game, like the ones his Rogues liked to play, and now Jason was drawn deeper and deeper into villain-hood, washing away anything that remained of the hero he once was.
Once Bruce emerged, Jason picked up the guns and held them in his face. “You don’t have to shoot them, but wear the fucking guns the whole time.”
You could take out every crime lord in Gotham without having to reload, a voice whispered. Remember how you felt when Jason died? You could end crime in Gotham tonight.
Bruce holstered them, checking to be sure the safety was on, and turned around and flicked on his com. “Robin, I need to head undercover for the night. I need you to patrol alone. Keep a close eye on Arkham. Make sure no one breaks in or out. Especially the Joker. Don’t return home until dawn.” Switching the com back off, Bruce pulled it out of his ear, threw it in the Batmobile and locked the door.
“Cute,” said Jason, as Bruce swung his leg over Jason’s motorcycle and pulled the helmet on. “But are you sending him there to protect them from me, or are you sending him there to protect them from you?”