Hell Call Home - Painted Mask
Title: Hell Called Home Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd TW: None presently known Rating: Teen And Up Audiences - For references to drugs, references to alcohol and alcohol consumption, references grave robbing, murder/killing, references to canon typical violence, m/m romance, contemplation of homophobia CW: What I consider canon typical references to violence. References to beheading, killing, murder, torture, minor swearing, and 1 allusion to a suicidal ideation Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82534971/chapters/217255676
Summary:
You've created a monster I just keep getting stronger Nightmare, I'm gonna haunt you
He’d been born Jason Todd. Maybe. Probably.
The previous Grandmaster had enjoyed his little mind games, his lies and his half truths. They had picked Jason up as a child. He hadn’t even been an orphan then, just a kid whose Dad had sold him to get out of debt with the Varaver Family. Now both Willis and Catherine Todd were dead and buried and Jason couldn’t remember enough of them to mourn their passing. He couldn’t remember a lot of things, it was getting better though as time kept passing.
Jason had been the heir of the Family. He’d completed his training, had completed his enhancements(he hadn’t asked what that meant, it wasn’t like they were going to give him a choice), had in fact he'd only been waiting for his sixteenth birthday to be declared the official heir of the Varaver Family second only to William himself.
That is until Janet Drake decided that she could do a better job of it.
Jason would have scoffed if the woman in question hadn’t been sitting primly at the desk behind him. His plans hinged on Janet not seeing his mechanisms until it was far, far too late for her to counter them. First he had to make sure he could protect her gremlin of a spawn since the little shit had grown on him over the weeks they’d been forced to work together. The rest of his plans were written on post-it notes on a white board in the Crime Alley street scrawl. Symbols and squiggles in place of words and numbers. Not everyone had a chance at an education, even though the state of New Jersey mandated schooling for all residents. If you didn’t have money for food you definitely didn’t have money for school fees and supplies. It was easier to dodge the truant notices and send your kid out to entertain themselves while you handled business.
Jason had been one of the lucky ones, he’d been smart and clever. He paid his own school fees with the handouts he’d been able to earn running messages for the Russians who ran the chopshop which had been two blocks from the apartment he’d grown up in. That he’d had to get real comfortable with the sight of blood hadn’t really phased him. Growing up in Crime Alley didn’t leave much to the imagination about the human condition. His only goal was to make something of himself, to at least get to a point of stability. And maybe if he’d been really really clever with just enough luck, get out of Gotham all together.
Willis had ruined that plan but had unintentionally opened up so many other doors. Jason had been appraised, tested, trained. Pushed farther, faster, to failure and then beyond until the trials. The Court had laughed when he’d been announced as a candidate. How would Crime Alley street trash hold up against the successes of their Talon breeding programs? A boy with no Family name would never survive the first round let alone defeat their candidates. They took bets on how he would die and jeered down at him in disdain.
He’d proved them all wrong by not only succeeding but by besting all of their genetically refined candidates. His reward had been to eliminate every member who had disrespected his candidacy. He’d accepted with pleasure. The blood had stained his hands before he’d even reached being a teenager. The next three years had been filled with hard work, pain, death and surprisingly school. For some unknown reason William had decided to send him to St. Ignatius. The preferred boarding school in Gotham for the elite. Jason hadn’t asked, he'd just ensured he exceeded his best at every test that was set in front of him. It was where he’d met Dick Grayson-Wayne.
The most beautiful boy he’d ever laid eyes on. Jason had been gone before he’d even known to guard his heart.
William hadn’t cared when Jason had tentatively confided in the man. Only saying that closer ties to the Wayne Family would never be a bad thing. Jason had breathed a sigh of relief. It had seemed like everything he’d ever wanted as a scared, starving kid was going to be within his grasp. But Jason had never had luck like that, the good was always outweighed by the bad in the end. The scales never fully balanced.
Which is when Janet had decided to take matters into her own hands. The Court was all about cultivating excellence in their Talons. Through careful breeding and grooming. They had always played the long game and here Jason was dismantling their way of life. With his accidental(it was anything but) excellence, with his muddy genetics from every corner of the world and the accent of the poor he wouldn’t allow to die. He was sullying their purpose, their ideologies, their image. So she had left a tip with the Joker that a heir candidate would be leading a small raid on an upstart gang within striking distance of Amusement Mile. And thus what should have been a simple demonstration to the other Families that Jason was ready to be initiated as the Varaver Family Heir had turned into a rout that had culminated in the annihilation of the entire strike team and his death.
What Janet hadn’t known, because she had not been in a position of authority or installed as one of the Trainers, was that the public demonstrations to confirm the next Talon were a formality that the ruling Families had worked into their operational pact decades before Janet had been conceived. A way for all of the Families to see what the heir was capable of, a way to ensure the balance between the five Families never faltered. A way to ensure no one Family gained too much influence over the others. The Varaver’s on the other hand had always hidden their training program merely paying lip service to the rules of the Gotham Families. Their Talon’s were required to be better than the best and failure was not an option or they were replaced with one who would succeed.
The last piece of Jason’s training wasn’t a skill he’d needed to learn. His last test to be confirmed as the Talon was to endure his own death and be reborn.
He was still miffed that someone had buried him but they hadn’t cremated him so Jason was willing to let by gones be by gones at this point. It was perhaps too much to hope that William would have stepped in and interred him in the mausoleum. Not if he was too busy dealing with Janet staging a coup. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Jason hadn’t retained any of his memories when he’d first crawled out of the grave.
Head trauma would do that to a person. And crowbars caused an astoundingly massive amount of head trauma.
He focused back on his notes, the prelude had gone off without a hitch. The rings he’d found in the suit jacket he’d been buried in Jason had managed to keep hidden until he could remember what they meant. The memory of a golden boy with a sunny smile etched with darkness. Of breath taking blue eyes eternally filled with mischief.
Jason didn’t know if Janet had figured out what he’d done, but that didn’t matter yet. As long as she thought her position as Grandmaster was secure and that he was still the unthinking zombie who had stumbled back into the Court’s halls like the good little Talon Jason supposed he had become, she would leave him be when not sending him out to deal with her perceived enemies. Her plan was to dismantle the rest of the Gotham Families, his was to dismantle the Varaver family and turn over it’s operatives and territory to the Wayne’s as the worlds most fucked up dowery. Permitting Dick still wanted him. Jason did his best not to think about that insecurity.
He didn’t think about how he’d changed. About how Dick had changed. They weren’t the same boys who had looked at the future with hope and daring. They had felt invincible then, the heirs of two of the most influential and powerful crime families in Gotham, nothing should have been able to touch them. They were young and beautiful and in love. They had talked of marriage as if it was more a forgone conclusion than a goal. To settle into a life of domestic bliss, terror and blood. For if there was anything in the world that Dick and Jason had excelled at, it was killing.
The sound of keyboard clicking stilled for a moment and then didn’t resume. Jason turned his head to look at the whip-thin 16 year old curled up around a laptop in an armchair pushed out of the way in a corner. Tired, worn blue eyes met the lens of his costume. There was resignation in them and a smell of hopelessness that hovered around the kid like a cloud of perfume. The sight made something clench deep in Jason’s chest. Something he didn’t have a name for anymore but tasted suspiciously like concern.
“Are you finished?” Janet’s voice lashed out in the sudden silence causing the teen to flinch before Jason watched Tim nod. It broke his heart to see Tim so quiet and withdrawn. Kids weren’t supposed to be afraid of their adults. He would fix it, he just needed time.
Tim’s voice when he replied was soft and resigned. Finishing whatever technical task Janet had set meant going back to his cell. Oh, Jason knew it wasn’t meant to be a cell. Not with the thick carpets, soft blankets, and more wealth than Jason would have known what to do with before his resurrection. But when you were the only living thing in the rooms with a door that was locked from the outside and your only responsibility was waiting for the door to unlock and your next task to be given it was just pretty prison.
“Yes, Mother.”
Behind his mask Jason bared his teeth. Fighting his instincts to remain standing in place and let the familiar act play out. Soon he silently promised the boy. Soon he would raze everything Janet thought she had successfully stolen to the ground. Including himself if necessary.
“Good. Talon, return my son to his rooms.” Janet ordered, returning her gaze to the papers she had been studying on the Grandmasters desk. Secure in the thought her command would be followed out. Jason would never afford her the title and respect of Grandmaster. Instead Jason took a step towards Tim and waited. They had both learned not to disobey the orders, but there was no reason why Jason had to be cruel about them. Tim let out a slow breath that was saved from being a sigh by volume and length.
Jason just watched and very consciously did not tense at the almost silent noise. He’d only had the majority of his higher mental function back for a few weeks; had only gotten a chunk of his memory back a few months back. He was unsure about how many but it had been long enough to know that Janet was drawing a ridiculous amount of suspicion to herself. Disregarding the operational pact between the Families as it didn’t align with her goals. She had declared to her son, with Jason in the room, when the invitation to the Wayne Heir Gala had arrived that she wouldn’t be entertaining the whims of a soft hearted fool and had thrown the invitation in the trash. As if the Wayne name wasn’t one that had clawed its way back up from destitution to prominence through violence, pain and fear. As if Richard Grayson-Wayne hadn’t stepped into the organized crime scene as a literal child to take down Tony Zucco and half of the Maroni family in the process. Sal Maroni only managed to hang on to his organization through the benevolence of Bruce Wayne and the complete disinterest in further violence from Dick.
He had thought he’d need to steal the invitation from the Grandmasters desk in some form, but Janet throwing it away had worked to his favor. It allowed him to publicly make an appearance without needing to resort to violence. The hardest part had been disguising the ring box as a gift. If Janet hadn’t pulled her coup, he’d have been given all the accolades and privileges of a Family Heir as was his right. Which would have included an apartment of his own, a salary for the work he would be doing at the Grandmasters side and a bonus for any task given outside of his regular responsibilities.
The Talon mask didn’t permit him to speak, literally forcing his jaw to remain closed any time he was wearing it. Supposedly, to be used to remind Talon’s to keep their opinions to themselves and not question the Grandmaster. Jason didn’t know if that was true or not but he leaned into it as it kept him from making stupid comments to Janet that would give him, and his plans, away. His next step was to seek out Dick and have a face to face conversation. Jason didn’t know how he was going to do that though as all the safe houses the Court had in Gotham were monitored with both cameras and microphones. He supposed he could find some abandoned warehouse. He was hesitant to do so as it ran the risk of an informant over hearing and word getting back to Janet. Jason definitely couldn’t have that happen, so he was still trying to work out the logistics of step one of his plan. He wasn’t interested in killing more people than he had to ensure the completion of his plans and killing someone who just wanted to get their next meal sat distastefully in his chest.
He’d thought about bribing Tim to cut the cameras and recording devices at one of the least reputable(and therefore least likely to be used by any other member of the Court) safe houses down in Crime Alley. He knew they existed. Talons could get hurt like any other being, the only difference was that if you left them alone long enough they would eventually heal back to 100%. Regardless of the injury. The safe houses in Crime Alley were specifically set aside for an injured Talon to lay low in, and Jason could conceivably make a case for an injury needing downtime but there was no reason why he’d have what Janet would consider to be a rival Family Heir with him. Not unless there was something fishy going on of course.
Jason turned these thoughts over in his mind as he walked Tim back and prepared to shut the teenager back in his room. Except Tim changed the script by asking quietly, “Are you planning on taking out my Mom?”
The boy didn’t even twitch when Jason’s hand spasmed tightly on his shoulder, the claws on his gloves digging into the soft skin under the ratty tee shirt. It was a clear enough answer that Tim continued, “I can help.”
And Jason stopped remembering to breathe at that. All his careful plans, all his maneuvering discovered by a sixteen year old. How soon until Janet had figured it out? How soon until they tried exterminating him again? Would they target Dick this time to force his compliance instead of trying to kill him off again? It would work, there was very little Jason wouldn’t endure to protect his Dickie.
Before he could spiral completely out of his head he heard Tim continue, a note of urgency in his tone something Jason had never heard from the boy in any previous interaction, “Mom doesn’t know anything, I kept her and Oracle from seeing you crash the Gala. I can help.”
Jason sucked in a slow breath and pushed Tim towards the open door to his cell. This little shit, god was Jason fond of him. Dick would love him. If Jason could get that far. So, lacking the ability to respond verbally he gave a sharp nod and then watched the tension drain out of Tim’s shoulders. He didn’t know how he was going to read the kid in just yet but his plan was looking slightly less hopeless. They would take Janet down before she could throw the entirety of Gotham into a power vacuum of which she wouldn’t be top dog in.
~*~
Hours after he'd seen Tim back to his prison cell, Jason was finally dismissed back to the little room he'd had since he'd been sold and his training had started. As a confirmed Talon his living situation should have been elevated to reflect his achievements. The Talon suite next to the Grandmasters, leave to come and go as he pleased, permitting he was not under orders or assignment, and the esteem of the Court as a whole. He should have been respected and untouchable by anyone but the Grandmaster. He should have been afforded the luxury of an opinion in his tasks with the understanding that he knew his limits and body best and therefore would know exactly how capable he was of executing orders.
Janet had made an enemy out of him for the disrespect alone through her ignorance. She had decided after being a general assembly member for little more than six weeks that the Court was just another Family in Gotham and could be run the same as any other Family. She was wrong, and Jason would teach her the error of her ways when the time was right. When he’d gotten all of his ducks in a row and Tim’s safety secured. Jason paused for a moment imagining what he would do once his hands were no longer tied and he could go after Janet like the Talon he was, imagined the torture he’d be able to subject her too. No one would come looking for her, no one would care what happened. He could take his time, make it last until her mind gave out. Until she was no more than a shell of her former self, terrified of the shadows and what they could hold. Perhaps he’d kill her, perhaps he’d turn her out to walk the streets of Gotham and let the underbelly of the city take whatever he left of her pride.
For now, the familiar little room with its single bed, urinal and sink, a stand for the Talon suit and a little shelf with a few sets of civilian wear would work in Jason's favor. For what Janet didn't know was that behind the armor stand there was a secret door that accessed the Training Tunnels where he'd spent the majority of his early teenage years. There also wasn’t a camera in the room which she would be able to access without Talon blood and as far as Jason knew, she didn’t have that. He certainly hadn’t provided any, and he’d been very careful when he’d separated William’s head from his body.
Not that a beheading would permanently take a Talon down. Even a former Talon who had been elevated to Grandmaster. But it had looked good to Janet, and that had been Jason’s goal, as vague as his goals had been in the beginning. But part of the Talon training was building and listening to instincts and his instincts had told him not to permanently take William down. Jason had listened to them with far more trust than he’d ever give Janet. After that it had been the work of an hour to return William to deep rooms, where he turned over the Grandmaster to the Trainers. They would see to it that William was afforded the opportunity to heal and place him on ice until Jason cleared the orders he’d given to keep William hidden. He’d decided what to do with William once the Court was no longer in an interloper's hands. If there was anything Jason left standing.
Sighing in relief as he took off the Talon mask and put it on the stand in the corner Jason ran through what stretching he could do with the limited space. He was about to engage in more physical activity than he'd needed for three weeks. Because the training tunnels connected to the Grandmasters suites, the Talon suite and the guest chambers. The path wasn’t easy to navigate as a precaution to the secret doors being discovered but was child's play for Jason. It wouldn't do for their top assassin to be caught on the main circuit CCTV cameras as he was performing his duties. Jason had put both his lack of a need for sleep and the tunnels to great use as he was rebuilding his skills from muscle memory and while he was working on figuring out what stunt Janet had pulled.
So, with that in mind, Jason slipped through the secret door and began to make his way to the guest room where Tim was locked in. It was the task of fifteen minutes before he was sliding open the peeping panel to verify he had the right room. He almost moved on to the next when he looked in and found nothing moving, no lights on, and no sounds of breathing coming from further in. But instinct told him to wait so he did. And the smell of hopelessness came to him only a second before Tim himself walked into the room. Janet right on his heels before she stated, as disinterested in her son as always, "Your performance was adequate today. Keep fulfilling my tasks in such a manner and I might be persuaded to name you my heir."
Jason saw red with rage, this little gremlin had played him for his mother. He was going to remove the boy's head and leave it on a serving platter for Janet to find in the morning. The act likely wouldn't arouse any emotion in her, but it would give Jason a moment to disable her in whatever manner he settled on. But then he took another breath and the heady aroma of terror hit him. It was flavored with Tim's familiar scent before the teen responded softly, "Thank you Mother. I aim to please."
Janet's smirk was satisfied, "See that you keep doing so, you are expendable and I wouldn't be put out replacing you."
Jason blinked, rage all but forgotten. That was cold even for the Court of Owls. Perhaps Tim hadn't betrayed what little trust Jason was willing to give, well a knife to the throat would solve that question. The moment that Janet closed the door to Tim's room, Jason slipped out of the training tunnels and ghosted behind the boy. He had an arm around the kid's torso pinning his arms to his sides and his body against Jason's chest while the other slide one of the short blades from the bandolier and rested it just under the jaw bone and whispered, "I think you and I should have a conversation Timothy Drake."