Fandom Under The Bat's Hood {TallyHoe & Ashman74}

[sodium]

As predicted, the next day at the library, Barbara was fighting to stay awake. By the time her work was done, she somehow found herself at the Batcave, hair messy and glasses on the tip of her nose as she stood impatiently, staring up at Bruce. Almost as if she was giving him a challenging look. Again, things went as predicted. A lot of shouting. So much, Tim had to check to make sure someone hadn't broken in. Then, more arguing until it eventually calmed down. Or at least for the most part as she walked away. Well, she could use a little time apart from them. Some time away from Batgirl and the Batcave. She didn't feel like Barbara anymore. She needed to find that out for herself and she needed time.

The first thing she did once she was home was kick the computer chair to the side before holding down a button to raise the desk. She wouldn't be Batgirl or Oracle, she would be Barbara Gordon tonight. Her fingers moved quickly along the keys on the keyboard. "Pancuronium and potassium chloride." Her voice made it's way to the small mic as she watched the computer screen. "Two substances used for lethal injections for those on death row. The two outcasts of the family. Who would have guessed it? Her words went to Red Hood seeing as he was examining a sight. Well, death more specifically. "They died in pain." She added a bit hesitantly, swallowing hard. Nothing was between them, and he wasn't near to hurt her in any way her mind might come up with. That didn't me he would be happy with her help.

Her fingers were now wringing slightly as she watched, anxious. Most likely, she would hear the intercom shut off. Bruce didn't want her help. Not now at least. Not when he was going out to find Jason that night. He didn't trust her with it. It was a low blow. "Most likely some Bane fanatic." She finally suggested, inhaling deeply. Nights were the worst. The darkness, always quick to glance to the side to make sure the clown wasn't really there. Just a mind trick.

Ashman74

 

[Ashman74]

Jason was surprised to hear her voice. That was quick. He thought. Examining the body again. But with less attention. "I know what they. I've used them." He informed her. When he was going around the world he'd learned things about interrogation. If it could even by called that. It bore much more resemblance to torture. The twisted part was that he enjoyed it to a degree. Letting a murderer meet the brink of death, only to be brought back and forced through it again. Put some drug addict on that and whatever they were injecting wouldn't be enough anymore. Assuming they were as unstable as I am. He added on, mentally. He walked back to the figure. Withdrawing his knife. "Don't know if you can see what I can." He began, sliding the knife under the material of the mask, which meant cutting into skin. "But if you can, I'd suggest you stop." He bought the knife up, making a pumping motion with his hand. In order to get the mask, he'd have to remove the victims face along with it. He couldn't tell whether it was male or female. It was almost as though their gender was removed. "Sorry pal." He muttered, a small amount of blood spurting onto his helmet. It was gross. He was glad his face was covered. When he the mask in his grasp he gagged slightly, blood dropping down. He looked up at the now faceless victim. More blood. Like a river of it.

He wiped the blood of his helmet with his glove, Keeping the mask in his off hand. The only place he could put it was in his jacket. But the prospect of cleaning blood and bits of face out of it was not remotely appealing. He made his way back to his own little hideout. Using the brick wall entrance again. Still risky. But far quicker, and didn't leave him smelling like literal crap. He took his helmet off as he walked to his computer. Opening up files on whatever case this was. It was slim, as it was usually on the first day. Some of the victims had already been identified, others hadn't. This was going to take awhile. He thought back to what she said about a Bane fanatic. This seemed a bit to intelligent for that. Then again, Bane himself managed to literally break Bruce. So maybe fanatics about him weren't as dumb as he thought.

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[sodium]

Seeing as he began to work on the mask, she gave a disgusted sound before quickly shutting off the camera, frowning. He didn't seem very welcome to her help either. Figures. The moment she went out on the streets as Batgirl, Bruce would find her, probably harass her for information about Jason that she wasn't willing to give. It wasn't her information to tell. She felt trapped in her own home. Reluctantly, she shut off her end of the communication. She ran a hand through her hair, frowning deeply. She hadn't felt this useless since the first day she was released from the hospital. Rubbing the back of her neck, she took a few steps in the room. She just needed a breather was all, she was overthinking all of this like always. Pull yourself together, Gordon.

Eventually, she found herself back at her computer, fingers moving as quickly as her eyes were. Analyzing every part of the mask Jason had peeled off, she sighed. Admittedly, she already missed him. He had managed to keep her somewhat sane for a few days. Not an easy accomplishment. When the scan was finished, she looked over the results, narrowing her eyes at it and swallowing hard. Jason really was getting himself in the whole crime business. He was going to get himself killed one of these days, again. "Red Hood," She soon called in. "Get rid of that mask, it's full of an acid version of the acid. Any fire or electrical charge will set it off like an explosive. Clean thoroughly any area the mask has touched." Her voice was stern and urgent. There were already countless situations that could happen... A stray cigarette, one of his guns going off near it, some electrical fuse problem. The list could go on.

Ashman74

 

[Ashman74]

Jason heeded her warning, first walking to the large bomb proof door. He opened it, much easier to do from the inside, and hurled the mask into the sewer water. After this he went to his kitchen, grabbing a squirt bottle and a rag, returning to where he'd been looking over, spending the next fifteen minutes scrubbing the area. Then removing his gloves, and jacket just to be safe. After this he made his way back to his kitchen, pulling a cigarette out of the pack laying on the counter, and grabbing a certain bottle from the fridge. The brand of beer was rather poor. But he didn't care much. He lit the cigarette and opened the bottle. Going to his couch. He'd take a short break before heading out. His helmet was left in the kitchen without a word, and remained there for an hour until he was done.

Jason realized something. Unsure if she had done this yet and bolted towards his helmet. He put it on, sighing before speaking. "Might wanna inform the GCPD of that little detail about the masks." He said. Walking out of the kitchen again. After acquiring a new jacket, and gloves, he made his way out of his bunker. The next few minutes had nothing verbal coming from Jason. Were the helmets communicator always going the only thing that be heard was heavy breathing. Now he was investigating the other bodies. One by one, but not to identify them. Rather he was looking for clues, one of which came in the form of opera music near a newer one.

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[sodium]

Barbara was quick to do just that, making sure to get the message straight to GCPD under 'Oracle'. They knew the name by now, knew it was friendly and helpful. Someone close to Batman. A little too close it felt like at the minute. Letting out a long sigh, she leaned back a bit, stretching her neck. Everything seemed like it was going to hell around her. The only person who she had felt safe around in a while she had pushed away. Why did she do that? She could hurt him somehow, whether by herself or through Bruce or whatever other possibilities there were to hurt him because of her.

Opera music.

Noisy neighbors weren't anything new. Still, it was strange. This neighborhood was usually quiet, very low amount of crime. Of course, most criminals didn't exactly live in a middle-class suburban neighborhood where the police Commissioner lived. That just had stupid written all over it. Unless they planned it. Unless they knew. Someone who wasn't afraid of the area.

Cautiously, Barbara moved to her window to open it to look outside.

Opera music was the least of her worries. The dead bodies of the elder neighbors that occupied the home next to her. Similar masks on their faces as Jason found. A large grin on their faces. A haunting grin. However, that still wasn't the worst part. It was what was surrounding her home. Countless goons, all like clowns. The house next to her's had boxes brought into it through the back, concealed from normal view by a fence. They all had venom on them.

"Oh, Ms. Gordon! A check-up on those miraculous legs of your's!"

A dream. A nightmare. That was all this was. All it had to be. She quickly slammed the window shut, locking it. Everything was locked. And she knew better than to open the door this time. Bruce would be walking into a death trap, even with Robin, as well as the GCPD. Her dad wouldn't take any risks. She rushed to her computer to contact someone- anyone. No signal.

Ashman74

 

[Ashman74]

"I swear if a clown says 'We all float down here'..." Jason mumbled, having followed the source of the music to a drainage...He forgot the name of it. He knelt down, peaking inside. There was an I-pod, which had some rather loud speakers blaring the the opera music. Then he felt a sharp pain in one of his shoulders. "Mother fu-" He said, lashing out with the arm of a shoulder which hadn't just been stabbed. When he found out who...When he turned around it was a familiar figure. Yellow belt. Dark cowl, cape, big black Bat symbol on his chest. About time. He thought, eyes narrowed under his helmet. "Red Hood." Was all the Bat said, causing Jason to grit his teeth. "Not going to call me by my actual name?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "You're not Jason." The Bat replied. Jason could almost feel his blood getting warm with anger. "My face disagrees." He said. "The camera's in the Batcave disagree." He reached to his injured shoulder, there wasn't a slash wound, hell, if it weren't for the small amount of blood running down it he'd have doubted he actually got stabbed. It was a rather small amount of blood trickling down. "This ends tonight." The Bat said, Jason couldn't agree more. In a blur he withdrew the two pistols from his hip, opening fire, but the Bat was out of sight, the only thing marking that he was there in the first place was small pieces of his cape. Jason wasn't letting him get away. That's why he ran after him, into the alleyway. A stupid decision for most. But most didn't have his knowledge.

He could hear the air being cut as he threw himself to the ground, four batarangs flying over where he'd been standing, aimed at his shoulders, neck, and chest. There was zero hesitation as he opened fire in the direction they came from, the flash from his guns lighting the alley for a few split seconds. It was more then enough, he rolled to the side as a foot came down where his head had been. He spun on his back, legs meeting those of the standing man, bringing the Bat down to his level. Jason got up, moving quick, placing the barrel of his pistol against the open eye hole in his cowl. "Goodnight." He pulled the trigger. But there was no blood. The body seemed to disintegrate, into a swarm of bats. Each cutting at him, ripping holes in his jacket, cutting open flesh. He felt warm liquid pouring out from each wound. The bats left. But another figure came. The Bat. Bruce. Jason spun, opening fire again. The Bat moved quick. Fast. Always so fast. Guns were useless. He saw the Bats shape moving onto the roof above. Thank god for the fire escape. Jason thought, running to it. Climbing the black ladder, then running up the metal stairs, reaching the top. Ignoring his wounds, ignoring the bleeding. It was almost as though it weren't there. He jumped, gripping the edge of the roof. He felt a hand on the collar of his jacket, and the next moment he was thrown, landing with a roll which helped him rise to his feet. Eyeing the Bat. Knife sliding from his sleeve. Both charged.

Jason started smart, when they clashed his knife went straight through that yellow belt. Lets see how you play without your toys. He thought, but let out a grunt when three, sharp, batarangs cut up along his helmet, leaving three jagged lines. "Fighting on a rooftop, just like ol-" A foot smashed against his jaw, sending his head upwards so the Bat could bring a swift punch to his throat, he fell to the ground, but not before plunging his blade into the Bats cape. "Perfect place for a proper fight!" He brought his palm up to the Bat's exposed jaw when he got up. "But you can't help but wonder!" He brought his helmeted forehead against the Bat's covered nose, he could hear it crack. "Who! What else have I done?" He felt a hard strike against his chest, enough to send him flying back, but not onto his back.

"You've murdered." The Bat replied, leaping at Jason. He took a risk, extending both hands, placing them against his chest and moving with the impact, throwing him towards and over the edge of the roof. But not before he felt a grapple around his leg. He brought the knife through it, but caught it, dropping the knife to reach into his jacket for a small device which he placed on the broken grapple, sending electricity through it. He heard something loud come from the Bat before he let go. Grabbing the knife. He walked to the ledge. Moving back as the Bat came launching up. But not before he got a firm grasp on his cowl, ripping it off his head. Well, the Bat did more of it. Jason just held it. Then tossed it off the roof. They stared one another down. Jason supposed it was best to even the odds. Reaching up for his own helmet. Pulling it off. Holding it in his hands. Then dropping it to the ground.

"My god..." Bruce said, causing Jason to chuckle. "Not even close. Try the other guy." He replied. "What...What happened to you?" Bruce asked him, Jason simply shook his head. "Doesn't matter, not to me." He said, withdrawing his knife again. "Lets bring things to an end. Only one walks away." He wondered how Bruce got his grapplegun without his belt. Must have had it stashed elsewhere. Didn't matter. He was unarmed. Jason was fully armed. Another charge. But Jason wasn't aiming for him, he dodged at the last moment, cutting through the side of Bruces armor, taking advantage of his surprise, sliding it straight between his ribs in the next moment. Just in time for two other birds to view it. One in blue, one in Red. "Nice family reunion." Jason said to them, smirking despite the blood on his face. Bruce fell. Lifeless. And they were right by his helmet. Perfect. He reached into his jacket. Withdrawing a detonator. He pressed it. Only the red bird was smart enough to move. He didn't know what was left of Dick. One left to deal with. It was quick. Jason dodged each strike, easily, digging his thumbs onto the younger mans eyes when he got the chance. Odd, he didn't feel his eyes get all mushy around them. But he did hear a loud crack when he twisted his head far enough to the left. When he felt the presence of someone behind him there wasn't any hesitation. Spinning and bringing his blade straight through the mans throat...

...No...

...Not a man.

A woman...

...Barbara.

His eyes went wide. No...Not her... He thought, despite what had happened earlier. He promised he wouldn't... He watched the woman drop like a sack of potatoes. Blood mixing with red hair as he stepped back. Not realizing how close he was to the ledge. No...No...God no. Please no... He thought, begged. Next thing he knew he fell. Into a void. Endless.

**

He woke up next to the drainage. Music playing. His helmet was on the ground. His jacket was in perfect condition, aside from a small hole in it. He rolled onto his back. Letting out a grunt. Before his eyes went wide. His hand launched out for his helmet, pulling it to, and on, his head once the chance arose. Unmuting himself so he could talk. "Barbara...Are you...?" He began to ask. Then something wet touched his face. It burned. Like it was eating away at his flesh. Then he screamed.

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[sodium]

Stay calm. You can't help yourself if you're panicking. Everything is fine and under control. No. No, everything was not fine and under control. It wasn't like she could fix this with Batgirl. Slip on the cowl and pretend to be other than Barbara Gordon. They would all know. She couldn't do that. Oracle was easily out of the equation, there were no signals for any of her tech to work. Whatever she did, pacing in her room like this, balling her hands into fists then unclenching them only to clench them again, wasn't strong. Then again, she was never strong. Just stood there and watched as the Joker held the gun against her abdomen and pulled the trigger.

Compose your breathing and try to relax. It became harder to calm down with every passing moment. Calming down wasn't important anymore. She moved quickly to her nightstand and dug into one of the drawers to grab a weapon. One Batman would scold her for having but her father insisted. Especially after that night. She moved to hide it in her belt, letting her shirt cover it before making her way towards the steps to the attic of the home.

It was dark. The concealment of the night gave her an advantage. If Joker and Bane were smart, they would be keeping Batman and Robin busy. Her steps were quiet as she made her way to the latch on the roof, climbing out and keeping low. Underground would be the safest place for her right now, to get out of this mess until it was fixed until she fixed it. Her mind was clouded with hatred and anger. She wanted to finish this once and for all. Batman wasn't around. His rules didn't apply anymore. Not to Barbara.

Slipping into the drainage was easy when she was being quiet. Her pants and shoes were getting wet, but she had been through worst. Still, that didn't mean it was any less disgusting. She was far from calm. So many mixed emotions. Anger, vengeance, fear, worry... It was all starting to take her over. She continued to walk, inhaling deeply. For the drainage, there was a scent in the air that was way too sweet and intoxicating. It was... Recognizable. When she did, it was too late.

Fear toxin.

Her sleeve was quick to move over her nose and mouth, narrowing her eyes as she continued, her fingers moving to grab the gun she had taken. The echo of a laugh was heard. His laugh. She spun around, quickly starting to back up as she held the gun up. The screams from Red Hood was turned into the Joker's laughter. When she turned to him, all she saw was the white face of the clown grinning at her. A weak noise escaped her before narrowing her eyes. Again, she froze. Just like that night. She froze, staring at the clown. Glancing down at herself, she noticed she was in the same state as those pictures in her file. No. Not again.

She pulled the trigger.

A poor animal had been given a good amount of venom. There were most likely more. And dangerous enough if it was to make Jason Todd scream. As for Barbara, the fear toxin still had hold of her from when she had walked through it back in the tunnel. "I'll kill you this time... I swear, I will!" She shouted, her hands still holding the gun as she aimed at the clown in front of her who had escaped her first attempt.

Ashman74

 

[Ashman74]

Jason felt whatever had been sprayed on his face eating away at his flesh. It wasn't fast either. It was slow. He only stopped screaming when his lungs lacked the breath to continue. His helmet felt stuffy, and his hands desperately grasped at it, but he felt as though it had tightened around his neck. Like a vice. What had served as protection for him was now a prison, slowly bringing him closer to whatever hell he was going to be sent to. Something else sprayed his face. But not acid, or whatever was eating away at him, literally. It was gas. Green. The pain went away. But when he blinked he wasn't wearing his helmet anymore. His face was normal. He was in a warehouse. Dark. Empty. So it seemed. A light lit up a small portion of it. There was a boy tied to a chair, a woman on the ground, and a clown in a bright suit. He knew the boy. Dressed in a red and green suit, with a yellow cape. He knew the woman, a doctor who'd had to flee the states, and he knew the Clown, the crowbar he held. He knew what would happen. But the boy didn't. He could only watch, helpless when he realized, he was the boy. Looking straight at the clown in front of him.

**


The boy didn't know it. But within the next three hours, his life was going to come to an end. The warehouse he was inside of was warm. The chair he was tied to was rough. Various splinters poking into his back. Piercing the red fabric of his uniform, causing blood to drip, mixing with the soft fabric, staining a yellow cape with spots of red. He didn't feel the crowbar as it was brought against him. Despite the audible cracks, snaps, and occasional twitch. The pain was meaningless. Kept at bay but one, singular, hopeful thought to keep the darkness of a bad situation away. The vain hopes of a child.

He. Will. Come.

He always did. Every bad situation. The one's he put himself in. The one's others put him in.

He. Will. Come.

It helped numb him to the pain. The crowbar hitting his battered and bruised body. Ribs. Elbows. Knees. Both sides of his head. The feeling of each joint being broken. Every portion of his already bruised body becoming more and more damaged with each blow. He didn't feel the blood in his lungs. Wasn't phased by how hard it was to draw a single, small breath. Because there were far more important things at hand.

Thinking up an apology. For running out on his own. For not thinking. Not talking. Not letting anyone in. Not telling anyone what he'd found out. Not asking for help. All for when he'd come barging through the door. The maniacal laughter which followed each blow going through one ear and out the other. The apology for sneaking out being to important to let anything distract him.

But eventually, the pain grew. The boy let out a cry. The first one since the beating began. His aggressor loved it, and even stopped the beating for a few seconds. To whisper something into the boys bloody ear. He didn't hear it. Retreating back to his thoughts. Hopes.

A final blow across the side of his face sent him tumbling over, landing on the ground. The next three hours would bring a revelation. When you're alone, you're alone. The pale skinned clown walked towards a door. The boy focused on the door, even after he left. Gaze locked on the handle. Just waiting for it to turn.

No one would come. No hero to save him seconds before death. To make everything okay. He. Wouldn't. Make. It. Not when it mattered.

He'd be late. He will always be late. A tid bit to late for the boy. A few seconds off. Late. Late.

LATE.

The boy wished to simply close his eyes. Let the blackness take him. But he didn't. His eyelids remained open. Blue eye's remaining locked onto the handles. Not letting the dark thoughts in the back of his head have any control. They remained fixed. On the spot he'd smash through. Be it on foot, on a motorcycle, or in a car. His gaze did waver for a split second. To another figure laying on the floor. The boy's mother. The reason he was here. He'd arrive. Save him. Save his mother. It was what he did. Save him from those who wished him harm.

Save him from himself.

He didn't realize it at that moment.

But those were all lies.

Beaten. Broken. Ignited. Blown away.

He wont make it. He was late. To late for him.

His last sight he would see was not of him. But of his mother dying. A white flash as he coughed fire. Then there would be no more. No light at the end of a tunnel. No world of fire.

Just blackness. Oblivion.

He wouldn't feel the arms cradling his battered, lifeless body. Wouldn't feel the small beads of cold, salty, water dropping onto his chest, where a heart was no longer beating. He wouldn't feel his eyelids being closed over eyes which no longer had light behind them.

No more smiles.
No more jokes.
No more childish antics.
Never again.

**


The reality of the situation was simple. Jason was laying on the street, body moving as though he were having a seizure. Unaware of the group effort against him. No. Not him. All of them.


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[sodium]

Everything was dark. Her mind was dark and all she saw was the dark. The only noise she could hear was her own labored breathing and faint footsteps around her. She moved to try to stand. Legs weren't working. No, not again, no. She tried her arms. Nothing. No, no, this was worse. Her breathing became even heavier and more panicked. Was that all she was anymore? Panic? Did she have any other purpose? It didn't seem like it. All those years of training and school only to become nothing but panic. Deep breaths. Calm down.

What was the last thing she remembered? Him.

This caused her to lose any hopes of remaining calm as she tried desperately to move. Anything. Not even her fingers were budging. By the time a light granted her sight back, she stared blankly across from her. Him. Jason Todd. Every ounce of power she had only allowed her to give a struggle. She was tied to a chair, she could see that. But something caused her vision to be hazy. Caused her to struggle with moving her body.

___________________________________

It wasn't hard. Not at all. To narrow te best candidate to Commissioner Gordon, one Gotham saw in such a position of authority. The perfect candidate to drive insane. Proof that even the mighty could fall. And who better to do that with than to his precious little girl? Joker's way of thinking hadn't changed from this since his first attempt at Gordon's mind. Perhaps he didn't take it far enough. Needed to go the extra mile. To attack the girl's mind first. It was brilliant. And he had been watching Barbara Gordon. Watching her little vigilante boyfriend sneak into her room at night.

Oh, a true romance.

Bane got his toxin. Scarecrow got his victims. All Joker wanted was these two and a warehouse. The retired Robin here should be familiar enough with warehouses by now. It was a shock... No, a surprise to find Jason Todd alive. Like a surprise party. It only made all of this the better. Not to mention how little work Joker had to do, not with how easily manipulated Bane and Scarecrow were with helping get the two here. And the goons. Lots of goons.

The current situations between the two love-birds would escalate by itself. If not, well, he had no problem giving a little push.

___________________________________

This was Jason. The same person she had gone out on patrol with so many times, watching how excited he got as a young Robin. Watched the indent in his cheeks when he smiled after a fight in the red and green suit. She remembered hearing Alfred's complaints about having to constantly make adjustments to fit Jason's growing body. Until he was gone.

The funeral had been the worse. A private viewing just for the family. For Dick who felt probably just as much guilt as Bruce. Both blamed themself. Bruce, who wasn't quick enough. And Dick who wasn't there enough. Alfred seemed to take it the worst. As for her, she made a point to make sure there were flowers on the grave every week. She wrote the obituary, she made sure it was known how much he had done. All the good. It had been hours in the rain until she was finally pulled away from his grave the day of the funeral. It took Dick to tear her away from it.

Now, she was trying to glare at the same Jason Todd. To hide her fear as she blinked constantly, trying to collect herself. He seemed to be in a similar position as her, but not as heavily held down. It didn't make much of a difference to him, surely. He didn't have to live so long as a person who couldn't walk on their own, couldn't feel their legs. The tears in her eyes were betraying her as she watched him cautiously. Scarecrow's fear toxin was out of her system for the most part. But it left quite the imprint on her mind.

Ashman74

 

[Ashman74]

The Toxin took much longer to leave Jasons own system. He was barely conscious from the acid burns he suffered. The pain of it was still with him. But his helmet stopped spewing it at him. He could heal faster then most, he was no Deathstroke in that regard. But if he, Bruce, and Dick, each took a bullet to the same part of their chest, he'd probably recover the quickest. He felt hands, touching his helmet. Lifting it. No longer was it locked around his head. It came off like a hat. The fact there weren't any holes in his cheeks, or eyelids, was a miracle. Or perhaps it was intentional. Though the toxin had left his system his mind hadn't quite recovered, he wasn't exactly in a good position to do much thinking. He could barely see. It was hard to breath. Had more happened to him? Where was he? Aside from the intense pain in his face, he felt fairly well. Though he probably wasn't going to be pretty anymore. Until he healed at least. Slowly he came to, mentally. His mind had felt fuzzy. But it was clearing up. He could see a lot better. Another figure, tied to a chair. Far more effort was put into her then there was put into him. But he wasn't exactly at his peak right now. Quite the opposite.

**

The biggest of the trio responsible for this was watching through a security camera. The view of the room coming to him from a TV. To him, there was much more here. The Joker wished to break Commissioner Gordon. Using his daughter to drive him to insanity. He had done this once before. Failed of course. It left the younger Gordon in a wheel chair. The boy was a new touch. Bane was able to identify him as Jason Todd. He wasn't sure what Crane wanted from this. But it mattered little. To him, this was merely one part of a grander plan. Once, he had broken the Bat. Soon, he would break the man. For he knew something few others did. Who the man was. The one behind the Legend. The mortal form of the Bat. Bruce Wayne. With that knowledge he could do far more then the Joker, or Crane, could. How could you break a man? You took away everything. First. He would take away one of the mans greatest failures. One he'd trained. One he'd failed to protect. He would take away another ally. Thorough investigation had led him to believe that the Red Headed woman sitting strapped to a chair, was the Red Headed Bat who went out most nights. He had theory about another alias she might have. Though it wasn't relevant. He would take away those closest to Bruce. He would take away his livelihood. His family. He would ruin the very name of 'Wayne'. He would take away his toys. Take away his enemies. Take away Gotham. Then finally. He would take his morals. The Joker didn't know it. Scarecrow didn't know it. But they were pawns. Being used once again by him. Crane would die tonight. But the Joker was important. The boy sitting in the warehouse had an incredibly well thought out plan. One worth respecting. He would make the Man kill the Clown. Then, he would kill the Man. Gotham would be his. Or perhaps it would burn. He had yet to decide on what to do after.


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[sodium]

All her effort was put into the panicked struggles in the chair, her breathing heavy and just as panicked as her struggles were getting. Her mind was all over, desperately trying to remember all Batman had taught her, how to escape these situations. Everything her own father taught her for protection. It was all fading from her mind and being replaced with panic. She needed to move. Her head was hanging a bit, teary eyes focused on the chair she was in while red hair began to fall into her face. She couldn't bring herself to look at Jason. It only made things worse, and she needed to calm herself down. Deep breaths, she reminded herself. Take in your surroundings. Bruce's voice was practically directing her at this point. Cement floor. Couldn't see the walls. Dim lights. The faint smell of paint in the air.

Her eyes eventually drifted towards Jason across from her. He was in a similar position as she was, but not tied down as tightly. In his lap was a pistol. After a quick examination from this far away, the pistol was loaded with only one or two bullets. She tore her eyes away quickly. Her breathing was getting heavy again. Next, the camera in the corner of the room with the red light on. Recording. She narrowed her eyes at it to examine it better. A live feed, but only projected to a single source. A source that was close. There was nothing on her. No utility belt, no cowl. She felt so vulnerable. She hated it. Joker was trying to get to her. But not just her, to Jason as well.

There was a crowbar in her own lap. They were expecting the two to self-destruct on each other.

Ashman74

 

[Ashman74]

The first thing Jason did was check his restraints. Rope, not chain. Where he in a normal state he'd have broken them by now, be through sheer strength, or through use of the All-Blades, a gift from one of the groups he'd been trained by. Still, the rope wasn't to tight. He could move his arms, barely, but he made progress. It slowly became painful, but he didn't stop until his arms were out. But that brought a few more problems. The main one being that he couldn't find the knot. He looked at the pistol in his lap. Maybe he could shoot the rope? If the angle was right. But that brought another question, how exactly would he do that.

He looked at Barbara again...Why was there a crowbar on her lap? He shook those thought away. Looking up towards a camera. He checked the pistol, realizing there were two bullets. That didn't make much sense, why two? What was even going on? His mouth felt dry, to dry from him to speak.]


(Sorry for the shortness, really couldn't think of much to write.)

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