Well, here it is, guys; the Jazz becomes an assassin fic, I promised. The prompt did call out for Talia not to be comfortable with Jason's and Jazz's relationship, but I couldn't write it that way. Hopefully, OP will forgive me for that. It will not have many chapters, but the chapters will be longish.
This first chapter will focus on Red Hood: Lost Days, so if you've read that comic, you'll recognize a lot. Talia doesn't sleep with Jason here, and she's more like a mother to him, which I'm sure many of you will be glad about.
“Look for the Shadows and the Bat’s greatest regret,” Clockwork told her before cutting off all communication with the Infinite Realms.
Jazz followed the rumors to Nanda Parbat.
She still didn’t know the bat’s greatest regret or who or what the bat even was, but she had found out about the League of Assassins. She had found the shadows, and she refused to leave.
She needed to get stronger, much stronger, if she wanted to stop the Fentons and destroy the GIW. The rumored shadows were the only ones who could help her do that.
A white and green thermos was clipped to her hip—her most precious treasure.
It didn’t take long for the shadows to find her. She was encroaching on their territory, after all. They all attacked. Jazz took out her staff and started fighting them off until they overwhelmed her.
She lost. It didn’t mean she didn’t take as many as she could with them, though, to be fair, it wasn’t many. In the end, Jazz was brought to her knees.
Suddenly, a beautiful woman with green eyes materialized from the shadows. Behind her was a teenage boy around her age with the same green eyes.
They reminded her of the Infinite Realms.
“Why are you here, little one? You are not one of our assassins; although you fight well, you are still lacking.”
Jazz struggled until she was let go and bowed. She wasn’t above begging to complete her goals.
“I’ve come here to ask for help from the Demon’s Head and his League. I wish to get stronger, strong enough to destroy those who have harmed the person I hold dearest to my heart.”
The woman raised an immaculate brow. The boy behind her said nothing.
“Now, how did a civilian learn about the Demon’s Head?”
“There are clues to find him if one wants to get stronger. I’m such a person.”
The woman attacked Jazz, who barely had time to raise her staff to defend herself. The woman quickly launched another attack, and Jazz was on the defensive, trying to find a way to turn it into an offensive one. She would never win if she didn’t attack the woman.
The woman swept her legs from under her, and Jazz fell on her ass hard.
“You have potential,” the woman said, “But you lack a killing drive. If you lack that, you’ll never survive here.”
“Then teach me,” Jazz demanded. She didn’t come this far to be told no. She would do whatever she had to.
“To train with the League of Assassins, you must be ruthless. You have to have convection and not hesitate to draw blood.”
“I have no problem with killing,” Jazz said. The dead agent she had killed in Ohio came to mind. The agent’s blood had colored her suit red. It might have been her only kill, for now, but Jazz wasn’t incapable of not doing so. After all, her path to revenge would leave behind a sea of red.
“Tell me your name, little one.”
“Your real name,” the woman demanded.
“Jasmine. Just Jasmine. I gave up my last name a long time ago.”
“Well, just Jasmine. My name is Talia Al Ghul, daughter of the Demon’s Head. I like your attitude. You’ll train with the League as you wish. Whether you come out alive is up to you.”
Talia melted into the shadows again, leaving Jazz behind with the assassins and the teenage boy. The teenager looked at her blankly, nodded, and disappeared.
The days blended until they became weeks, then months.
The days were filled with blood, sweat, tears, and bruises.
Jazz’s eighteenth birthday came and went with purple coloring on her body and her hands washed in red. She had spent the night with the thermos in her hand and wet cheeks.
Talia had been right. The League of Assassins was a place of ruthlessness and conviction. More still, it was a place full of brutality and cruelty. Jazz learned those two lessons quickly. It was either that or die.
She couldn’t die just yet, though.
Jazz didn't see Talia again during the months she had been with the League, nor did she ever meet the Demon head, but she occasionally saw the teenage boy sneaking around. She still hadn’t learned his name, and Jazz wasn’t interested in doing so. She wasn’t on a name basis with anyone in the League. She doubted anyone except Talia knew.
Every day, she woke up when the stars were still out and shining, got ready, made sure the thermos stayed hidden in her room, and then went to the mess hall to eat.
Afterward, she would run drills with the rest of the shadows. After the drills, she fought. The fights were in groups or one by one, but Jazz always gave it her all. She was doing this for Danny, after all. She was doing this for revenge.
One day, after a particularly brutal day, Talia entered her room with the boy.
“Tell me, Jasmine Fenton, how is the League treating you?”
Jazz stopped icing her bruised eye as her blood ran cold. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. How had Talia found out about Jazz’s name? She had been careful to keep her past and her name secret. Vlad had made sure to erase all mentions of Jasmine and Daniel Fenton outside Amity Park. Jazz didn’t talk to anyone to make sure she didn’t give anything away by accident. Ancients, dammit!
“Don’t be surprised. You intrigued me since the moment you got here. I didn’t have much time to look into you, but it wasn’t hard to find out about Jasmine Fenton once I did. The only daughter of the Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton with a younger brother. A Straight A student on her way to an Ivy League with plans to study psychology and neuroscience. Both parents are the leading ectobiologists and geniuses regarding the afterlife and ectoentities.”
“Both Fenton children have mysteriously disappeared,” Jazz pointedly didn’t look where she had hidden the thermos, “but somehow, the daughter had shown up to Nanda Parbat, asking to become stronger.”
How was Jazz going to escape? She couldn’t leave behind the thermos; she wouldn’t be able to make it far in the League’s base. Everyone else was way more skilled than her.
Talia sat on the only chair in the room. The teenage boy stood guard at the door.
“So, tell me, little one, why are you truly here?”
He was German, liked Ska music, drank a disgustingly sweet cherry-flavored energy drink all day, and murdered people for a living.
He was teaching Jason and Jazz how to kill.
She didn’t flinch at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. She had long since gotten used to it.
“That is enough,” Egon said in English with a thick German accent. The man Jason had been fighting was out cold on the floor. “How would you finish him?” he asked Jason.
“Foot to the neck,” Jason answered with no hesitation. That seemed like a gamble to her; there were easier ways.
“Neck is thick. Might not give,” Egon said.
“It would be my full weight behind it,” Jason argued, “But he’s out, so I could always do the bridge of his nose into his brainpan.”
“How about you, schönes Mädchen?” Egon had gotten into the habit of calling Jazz a pretty girl,“How would you finish him off?”
“I would go for the eyes,” she said without a second thought.
Egon turned back to Jason, “You stupidly still feel the need to go for the head and not the eyes. You are damaging your knuckles and wasting time. You get angry too easily. Then you become an idiot.”
“Duly noted,” Jason said.
Jazz followed the two behind, not even sparing the fallen man a second glance.
Outside, armed men were guarding and walking around the facility. She also ignored them. A part of her wondered when she had gotten used to men with guns being around her. Then again, the Fentons had never been shy about using and pointing weapons at their children.
Jazz touched the thermos; it was still okay.
After Talia and Jason had ambushed her in her room, she kept it with her always. Jazz would have to become strong enough to protect it and the important treasure it held.
“You may have broken your ribs,” Egon said to Jason. “Derek will escort you into the city for an x-ray. A vet takes care of some of our patch work.”
“Thanks, but I think I just bruised a couple.”
Jazz was about to intervene when Egon continued.
“I’m not being motherly, you imbecile. You two pay me weekly. If you fight with broken ribs, you puncture any number of organs, then you die, and I lose the fee. Go to town.”
Derek opened the door for Jason and then for Jazz, winking at her as he closed it.
How had she ended up here?
Oh, right, because Talia wanted Jazz to keep an eye out on Jason and help calm down his murderous rage toward his father.
After Jazz had told Talia everything she was willing to share, mainly about the Fentons and their work and the GIW, she came to her a few hours later, telling Jazz she would accompany Jason to train with a sniper. Talia had assigned Jazz the duty to ‘stall Jason while he trained and to use her psychology knowledge to help him.’
Jazz had no idea what Talia wanted her to do.
She wasn’t a trained psychologist (she never would be.), Jazz was damaged herself, and Jason ignored her.
Jason had only spoken to her twice while they had spent a month with the sniper. If anything, he spoke to Egon more than he did to Jazz. And she was his companion.
She didn’t even know how to bring up Jason's rage toward his father without cluing Jason in that Talia sent her to keep an eye out for him.
“Figure it out,” Talia had said when Jazz had mentioned it, “You’re a smart girl. Do this, and I will give you the necessary resources to enact your revenge.”
Jazz stared at the passing scenery of snow and forests as Derek drove them to the vet.
Jazz didn’t need much teaching when it came to the sniper. One of the benefits of having the Fentons as her parents (the word left a sour taste in her mouth) was that they had taught both her and Danny how to use guns, rifles, and, for better or worse, heavy artillery.
Jazz would spend the morning practicing her shots, then the rest of the day practicing her katas and reading books on strategy or psychology. She spent her time practicing her Arabic while studying Russian. She missed being in Nanda Parbat and its extensive library.
Jason, though, Jason had spent the whole month practicing his shooting. Jazz got the impression that he was competing with her and trying to get as good or even better than Jazz. That had worked out for Jazz. She was glad she could stall him for as long as she did. Talia had even complimented her. Jazz doubted she was a woman who gave them out often.
Derek had spent the time flirting with Jazz while Jason got looked over. After ignoring him for a while, he turned to chatting with Jason, who seemed more than happy to talk with the scumbag while still ignoring Jazz.
They returned to the facility through an entrance Jazz had never seen before. There were two orange medium trailer trucks. Jazz barely paused when she heard whimpering coming from within. She knew it wasn’t dogs.
“But tell me, what is your story, Americans? How does a kid and a young girl,” he smiled at Jazz, “have enough money to buy time with Egon? You rich man’s children? Or you have, what’s the word, sponsor?”
“Well, Derek, I can’t speak for Jazz, but I’ve always invested wisely.”
Derek turned to Jazz. She still gave him nothing.
“Ja, you both have your secrets. Okay. But listen, you both have skills. You’re good. We’ve been talking.”
Jazz paid more attention. Something was about to happen.
“Me and the others,” Derek continued, “We who work for Egon. You both should think about taking some work. We have jobs where we could use you. Money is good. Even for you.”
Jazz could hear him coming from the left; she was sure Jason could, too, but she knew Egon wasn’t coming for her or Jason. Well, it’s better to watch and keep her mouth shut.
Egon kicked Derek in the back of the head. Both Jazz and Jason said nothing and watched. Egon beat the shit out of Derek, drawing blood. It seemed Egon didn’t want his secrets to come out by accident, which made him look suspicious.
“You will have to forgive me. Some of my men will forget on occasion to refrain from discussions. Jan will take you back to your room.”
Egon told Jan something in German angrily. Jazz’s grasp of German wasn’t good enough to understand what Egon was saying, but she knew he was pissed at Derek.
They don’t have free rein of the facility.
Egon had tried to spin it as a scheduled military-style discipline; Jazz didn’t buy it, and she doubted Jason did either.
Jazz said nothing as Jason stared out the window. He didn’t give her an inkling of what he was thinking.
Jason wasn’t stupid. His anger sometimes got in the way, but he was calculating and was good at putting puzzle pieces together. Besides, although her super hearing picked up on the whimpering loud and clear, she knew Jason had heard and suspected something.
She got her confirmation when he climbed out the window at two A.M. Both of them knew Leon was watching them, but he tended to walk off to meet Sofie, a hooker Jazz had the pleasure of meeting before, at two in the morning.
Jason didn’t tell Jazz anything when she followed him out the window, but he did scowl at her. She jutted her chin out stubbornly. No way in the Infinite Realms was she going to do nothing while people, possibly children, were in trouble.
Jason’s eyes told her everything she needed to know.
You’d better not fuck this up, they said.
I won’t, hers answered back.
They had two hours before Leon came back, and their absence was noted. They followed a road back from the west. The same road they had come through earlier. They snuck through even though there were no surveillance cameras. Were they doing it to minimize evidence, or was it because they were arrogant?
Jazz wanted to gag from the smell. They were burning leaves to cover it up, but even without her super senses, it didn’t mask the odor.
Jazz and Jason saw one guard asleep with a gun on the passenger side.
Well, there went a point for arrogance. They had had it too easy for far too long and had yet to learn what trouble they would encounter. They obviously weren’t afraid of whoever they had would be able to escape. After all, the window was a cheap, single pane. A shoe could break it. She and Jason looked through the window.
Jazz’s breath got caught in her throat.
Children! All were under the age of ten, not malnourished but in white rags and handcuffed. Jazz could smell the drugs emitting from their bodies. All of them were Asian. Jazz counted forty-two of them.
Beside her, Jason was trembling with barely contained anger. She knew she was in the same boat. How dare they? How dare they hurt children? Egon made enough money killing and training people like he was training them. How greedy can one person be? Why would he have to traffic people, let alone children?
Jazz followed Jason to Egon’s office. Egon was too confident; there were no alarms.
She kept watch without being told while Jason read Egon’s logs. They were all handwritten. Easy to dispose of.
Jazz let Jason read the logs, but then she saw them.
“They’re selling children. I can’t get the exact details because it’s in a code only he would understand.”
Jason’s smile was feral. He turned toward the bottles of energy drinks.
“We have about forty-five minutes for them to load all the kids.”
Jason took out the energy drink box and syringe. Where had he gotten that? He ejected a little bit into one of the bottles before taking out another one and doing the same. Jazz started helping him by handing him bottles and putting them back into the box.
“We’re ten minutes from here to their makeshift motor pool. It’s all low-tech with no alarms. That’s plenty of time.”
Jazz was sure her smile was as feral as Jason’s as he explained his plan.
It was simple: Jason would drive the empty truck, set it on fire in the middle of the road, and force them to stop. Jazz would hide in the trees and shoot the passenger while Jason threatened the driver with a gun to drive them toward the British Embassy.
Jan bled out, and the driver got a bullet to his head while they silently crept through the night back to Egon.
Jazz didn’t understand what the man was yelling into the phone when they returned, but she stood back while Jason told him something in German and shot at Egon. The older man predictably dodged the shots and then tackled Jason out of the door.
Jazz watched as the man punched Jason. Still, she didn’t move a muscle. Jazz knew Jason wouldn’t appreciate it.
Egon pushed Jason toward a tree and pinned him there. He completely ignored Jazz, which was fine with her.
“Tell me what you’ve done!” Egon yelled, his accent thicker than usual. “Where are they?! Where?”
“Y’know…your accent gets thicker when you’re pissed. It’s…cute,” Jason sassed at the man. Jazz couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She was realizing that Jason tended to fall on dramatics. She’d have to analyze that later.
Jazz flinched when Jason headbutted Egon. Egon then got Jason by the neck and threw him to the ground. Should she intervene? No, if she moved, Egon might go after her, and she wasn’t as skilled as Jason in hand-to-hand combat. Better to let this play out. She could always help later.
“You think you are clever?! You think this is some game? Rich American punks! Now the tail wags the dog? The student unseats the master?! I teach you how to throw punches—and now you think you can actually strike at me? Do you?!”
“No,” Jason said, “That’s why I poisoned your energy drink.”
Jazz had no idea how Jason had timed it, but as soon as the last word came out, Egon fell to his knees, and foam came out of his mouth. Huh, he had drama down to an art.
The cold air warmed around them as they watched everything burn to the ground around them.
Jazz had no idea what Jason told Talia, but she saw Talia give a pleased smile.
After the first time with Egon, a sort of pattern rose. Talia found them a teacher; half the time, that teacher ended up dead.
It wasn’t like they killed indiscriminately, though.
After all, that surveillance expert was a pedophile. The small arms man ran a drug ring that had more than half his supplies cut with poison, and the close combat master had been planning on killing her daughters and husband for some fucked up reason.
At the moment, both Jazz and Jason were escaping the scene of their latest kill. A rival chief had hired a group of mercenaries to pit two tribes against each other. It would’ve caused the death of child soldiers.
Jazz and Jason had turned the tables on them and gotten the child soldiers to kill the mercenaries. Usually, the odds of children getting the jump on a group of professionals were low, but Jazz and Jason had facilitated the children’s chances.
Neither Jazz nor Jason were worried about being hit with bullets while on the bike. The children had terrible aim, and they had a good teacher. His name was Rip, and he was an expert on all things wheels.
Jazz let Jason do all the talking; he was a better liar. Rip was a dirtbag but he got to live. He was just the driver. He even gave Jason one last lesson and let him drive the plane.
Their next teacher was Shurik Ivanko; he made bombs.
Jazz took these lessons with enthusiasm. So did Jason. After all, bombs would be the best way to destroy GIW facilities in the future. She watched as the explosion ripped through the barn and car. She pretended not to notice Jason’s slight flinch as the bomb went off.
Jazz declined the offer to go drinking. Jason did not.
She tried to ignore the feelings of worry. After all, Jason and her were rarely apart these days. They traveled together, trained together, and killed together.
“Have fun, boys,” she said as she exited the car in front of the run-down motel they were staying.
They met Talia at a sleazy dive in London.
Talia gave Jazz a packet. She took it and went to the far corner of the dive bar to read over the reports.
The GIW and Fentons had made a new weapon that went after anyone with even an inkling of ectoplasm. This included people who were resuscitated after drowning or a heart attack. Jazz’s mouth went into a thin line.
She had to get stronger still so she could stop them.
She would have to save money to get help. Maybe she could bribe Vlad again into depositing her money for mercenaries. It’s not like she didn’t know how to contact them now. Talia had told her she would help with resources, but Jazz didn’t want to count on her only. After all, that help was conditional on how much she could stall Jason from who knows what.
Jazz tapped her fingers on the old table as she thought of plans. Yes, Vlad used to love Maddie, but that love fizzled out after what she did to Danny. Now, all Vlad cared about was keeping his secret as a halfa secret, staying alive, and finding ways to destroy the GIW without getting his hands dirty.
That had probably been the only reason he had sponsored Jazz. She had pitched her plans for revenge and had helped her by opening an account so she could travel to follow Clockwork’s clues. After all, she had no trouble doing what Vlad was unwilling to do.
Jazz frowned. She found the shadows but still had no idea what the ‘bat’s greatest regret was.’ She knew that Clockwork gave her that clue to ensure success, so she would have to find that before launching her attack.
Jazz looked up toward Talia and Jason and noticed Jason’s tensed muscles as he looked at something.
Jason was tense the whole ride back to the motel. He didn’t talk to Jazz and booked a different motel room when they returned. He had a yellow envelope he was crushing with his fists. That night, while she kept watch in front of Jason’s door, she could hear quiet sobbing.
Jazz didn’t sleep that night.
To say Jazz was pissed would be an understatement.
Jason had left her behind while he went to do the Ancients knew what. Now, if he wanted to do something himself to cool down after his rough night, Jazz wouldn’t have minded. Sometimes, she went out without telling Jason when she felt some sort of way. But as she turned on the news to find out that there had been an explosion by the Westminster bridge, well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out Jason had gone on another mission.
Jazz paced the length of the motel room as she waited to hear back from Jason. It wasn’t until she heard cursing that she knew Jason was back.
Jazz opened the door in time to see Jason entering his room and packing his bag while cursing loudly.
“Where are we going,” she asked instead of demanding why he had left her behind.
“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to kill a clown.”
Jazz frowned and looked around the room, looking for some clues.
She noticed five pictures hanging on the wall and walked up to them. Jason tensed and stopped packing.
In them was a boy with a bo staff. He was wearing a green, red, and yellow costume. In one of the pictures, a bat-like figure flew behind the boy.
“The Bat’s greatest regret,” she whispered. Now she knew what Clockwork had meant. She was supposed to find Jason. He would help her get revenge. Somehow, Jason was Batman’s greatest regret.
Jason turned around, his green eyes glowing like they did when he felt strong emotions.
It hadn’t taken Jazz a long time to figure out that Jason had been touched by death. He wasn’t a halfa, and she wished she could ask Clockwork or some other ghost what Jason was. However, she ignored any ghosts she saw for their safety and her own.
Looking at the photos and knowing Jason had died, well, it didn’t take much for her to put the clues together. Batman regretted Jason’s death, maybe because Jason had died as Robin or doing hero work.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
Jazz didn’t know how to explain.
“What did you just say?!”
Jason got Jazz by the shoulders and shook her.
Jazz freed herself from Jason’s hold and punched him in the face. He staggered back, breathing hard. Jason snarled hard and got up. She took out her bo staff to protect herself in case Jason decided to attack. The bo staff made Jason’s scowl deepen. Right, the boy in the photo was also using one.
“My younger brother, Danny, he had also been touched by death,” Jazz started.
Jason flinched and drew back.
“You know about my parents, you remember, right? You heard me talk about them with Talia all those months ago.” It had almost been a year since that time. “Danny had died and came back. His death changed him and made him special. My parents found out and hurt my baby brother.”
Jazz took the thermos and showed it to Jason.
“This is all that’s left of my brother.”
Jason drew back in confusion.
“You keep your brother’s ashes in a thermos?” He asked, incredulous.
“No, remember when I said my brother’s death changed him? It gave him powers and turned him into something more than human. He’s a halfa: half a ghost, half a human. As long as his core is intact, he can come back. However, there is very little ectoplasm out of Amity Park, so it will take him a while to heal himself.”
“Nice story. What does that have to do with ‘the Bat’s greatest regret?’”
“Look for the Shadows and the Bat’s greatest regret.’ That had been the only clue the Ghost of Time had given me before he cut off all my communication between the World of the Living and the World of the Dead.”
“Even if I want to believe you, which I don’t, I know that Talia sent you with me to spy and stall me. Even if I wanted to, you expect me to believe you had communication with the dead and talked with the ‘Ghost of Time?’ and he sent you to find me?”
“I want revenge, so do you. We’ve been helping each other all this time. Why not continue?”
Jason scowled, “How do I know you’re telling the truth and not trying to stall me like you have been?”
“Do you think I wouldn’t have devised a more plausible story? I’m telling you the truth. I need your help to get my revenge. I’ll help you get yours in return. A quid pro quo, if you will.”
“Have you been ‘touched by death?’”
Jazz cocked her head to the side, “Why do you ask?”
“You’re stronger than average, you have better senses than most, and your eyes glow sometimes like…”
“Like yours,” she finished the sentence.
“Like mine,” he repeated.
“I lived on top of a portal to the afterlife. Of course, I’ve been touched by death.”
“Quid pro quo. You tell me everything, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“It all started with the Fentons building a portal to the Infinite Realms.”
Jason gave Jazz the earphones. He was having hearing problems, and it wasn’t just from the four gunshots about ten seconds ago.
“Here, maybe you’ll be able to hear.”
Jason still couldn’t believe he was putting his full faith in Jazz. Yeah, they had worked together the past year getting rid of scumbags, but this was different. This was personal. It should’ve stayed between him, Bruce, and Joker.
After she told him everything, though, he couldn’t help but agree to help her if she helped him. Maybe it was the fact that both of them had parents that didn’t do shit for them, or maybe it was the tears that fell from her face as she told him about her brother. Whatever the case, for better or worse, here they were, finding Joker so Jason could get his revenge.
Joker had just killed two of his own men. The armed traffickers Joker was trying to make a deal with were squirrely. Joker had said before he would only bring four men with him and had brought six. To placate the traffickers, he had killed two of his men, leaving four.
Jason felt anxious, not knowing what the Joker was planning while Jazz listened. But he knew she would tell him everything.
He stared out the window of the decrypt building they had stationed themselves in. Was this it? Was Jason going to get his revenge?
Jason turned around. Jazz put down the headphones and looked at Jason.
“It gets poured into water, and bam, when it touches air, it ignites into flames. He plans to pour it in the Gotham reservoir, so when people turn on their faucets instead of water, it’s fire.”
“Where and when,” he asked. That was more important.
“Port of Los Angeles. Foreign trade zone, site seven in four hours.”
“Not a lot of time,” Jason said. Then he sneered, “But enough time to kill the Joker.”
Jazz hit the gas even harder as gunshots hit the car. Jason was in the trunk.
The plan was simple: go in with the car, hit as many people as possible, let go of smoke gas so the arms dealers couldn’t see shit, and Jason would go after Joker. He had full confidence that Jazz wouldn’t leave anyone alive.
Now Jason had to do his job.
He jumped out of the trunk and went after Joker, who had run as soon as shit had hit the fan.
Jason shot Joker in the leg as soon as he saw him, making the clown go down.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah,” Joker was panting in pain. Good.
“Yeah, that’s gotta hurt, but hang in there, okay, freakshow…? Because we’re just getting started.”
Suddenly, a shot hit Jason in the back. Ow, fuck!
Thankfully, the armor held on, but he couldn’t stay here while Jazz eliminated the arms dealers. Besides, Jason wanted to go slow. He wanted to make it hurt like Joker had made him hurt.
“They got gas masks, too! Oh my, my, my—can’t underestimate the preparedness of arms dealers! Like Boy Scouts with ammo!”
Jason picked up Joker and took him to an abandoned warehouse just a little farther from where the deal was going.
The irony of it being a warehouse wasn’t lost; it pleased Jason.
Jason smiled behind his gas mask. He knew he would have time to enact his revenge. Jazz would deal with the arms dealers, giving him time.
He took out the crowbar he had hidden on his back. He struck the crowbar lightly on his hand.
“Now, then, pumpkin, I’m going to ask you a question, and you will tell me which hurts more, forehand or backhand.”
Jason hit the clown with the crowbar.
“Wow, that looked like it really hurt.”
He hit Joker again and again. The sound of crunching bones and flesh being hit brought back his memories, but Jason continued.
“No, that looked like it hurt even more. So let’s try to clear this up, pumpkin. What hurts more, A or B? Forehand or backhand?” With every other word, Jason hit Joker with the crowbar.
The clown wouldn’t stop laughing. Was he even listening to Jason’s questions?
After a particularly hard hit, Joker spat blood and smiled at Jason, “Boy Wonder. Look at you all grown up! Didn’t I kill you? Ha, ha, ha, ha.”
Jason got Joker’s head and smashed it against the floor.
“And I came back just to teach you a lesson.”
Jason kept beating Joker with the crowbar. Joker laughed throughout the whole time, but Jason continued.
He didn’t stop until the Joker’s laughs had turned into wheezing.
“Well, I suppose you’ve learned your lesson,” Jason said. He got the gas and threw it on top of the Joker.
“It’s time for me to leave, though. Don’t worry; I won’t leave you shivering in the cold. When you meet him, tell the big guy I say ‘hello.’”
Jason turned on a lighter and threw it on top of the clown. Jason had fucked up the Joker so much he couldn’t even laugh in the end.
After he put out the smoldering corpse, Jason left it there. He had to help Jazz with the arms dealers’ bodies.
“Are you still planning on killing the Batman,” Talia asked.
Jason had given Talia the details of Joker’s death.
Jason stared at his reflection in the mirror; Talia was behind him.
“I know you don’t want me to. I know you’ve been stalling me. It took a while for me to figure it out. You sent Jazz to stall me as long as she could, but… I get it. You love him.” Jason turned to look at Talia, “But… I’m not sure murdering him is part of the plan anymore. I want to help Jazz the way she helped me, then. Then I don’t know.”
“Then punish him,” Talia said. “Take what is the most important. Take Gotham from him. Bee the man he can never be. Be the Batman that Gotham needs. No boundaries or self-important moral codes. Cross the line.”
Jason looked at the woman who had become a mother to him.
“He’s gone. Ra’s Al Ghul is no more. He did it. The Batman brought about his death. Punish him, for both of us.”
The words were still echoing in his head when Jazz entered the room.
“How do you feel,” Jazz asked.
He looked at Jazz, “After all, Bruce still deserves punishment, and you deserve your revenge.”
“Thank you,” Jason nodded.
They looked at each other; suddenly, a spark flew between them. Jason didn’t know what possessed him, but he kissed Jazz. They somehow fell into bed together and got to know each other even better than they ever thought they would.
Jason woke up to a buzz. The bed was empty.
“Jazz,” he asked. The buzzing continued. On the table, a computer was buzzing.
There was a text from Talia on the computer.
WayneTech purchases succeeding.
Found original coffin maker—agreed to contract. Trail ends with him.
And more funds in an account. Enjoy.
PS- New business. He is calling himself HUSH. You should meet.
Jazz entered the room wearing Jason’s shirt.
“What’s this,” she asked.
Jason smiled. Just T giving me some clues.
“Hmm,” she said, humming as she read the text. “What now?”
“Now, we get your revenge.”
“I can’t wait,” she said before pecking him on the lips. “I can’t wait.”
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