“I’m surprised you’ve been superheroes for so long,” Otto said. “Why it only took me…”

The first superhero to break out was Spider-Man. Otto expected as much.

“Maybe don’t put those eggs in your basket just yet,” Spider-Man said. Otto lashed at him with his other arm, but Spider-Man rolled over it in mid-air and launched a web on his face. It was at that moment an electric shock loosened his top-right arm’s grip on Batman, an electric shock that caused him to keel over, only being supported by his bottom arms.

“There’s a neural chip connected to his spinal cord,” Batman said. “If we disable that, we disable his arms.”

Spider-Man leapt at Otto’s left flank, only to be knocked aside by an arm that moved faster than he could react, slamming him against the wall.

“Easier said that done,” Spider-Man said, groaning.

Otto ripped the webs off his face. “As I was saying, it only took me five minutes to capture…”

Spider-Man launched a web at his mouth that Otto swatted aside. “Shut up.”

Otto sighed. “Imbeciles, the whole lot of you.”

Spider-Man leapt at Otto again, this time Otto swatted him aside again. Using that as a distraction, Batman launched another electric shot directly at him, but Otto swerved to the side, narrowly avoiding the shot. Batman took out his electric gun and fired again, Spider-Man used this as an opportunity to leap at him.

“My neuro-chip immediately responds to my thoughts,” Otto said. “I can react faster than any normal human.”

Otto ducked; the electric ball hit one of his lights causing it to explode in a burst of sparks. Spider-Man dodged the first lunge of his tentacles. He couldn’t dodge the second. Otto grabbed a hold of Spider-Man and before he could break free, tossed him against his computer causing a loud crashing noise.

“Faster than a meta-human too, it seems,” Otto said.

Batman took this opportunity to roll at him, he pulled out his electric gun to fire but before he could he collapsed on to the floor, his prosthetic leg letting out a hiss as it fell on the ground as if it were a rubber toy.

Otto sighed. “Didn’t my men mention I know all my inventions?”

Spider-Man broke free of the rubble ready to launch another attack. He decided to do something smart and web up one of his arms. The other arm lashed at him but after flicking his wrist twice and using what seemed like sensor technology, Otto’s second arm soon found itself attached to a wall. Spider-Man landed on a wall and using his momentum, launched himself from the wall directly at him. It seemed all was lost if not for…

Spider-Man reacted just in a nick of time. If it wasn’t for whatever form of precognition he had, he would’ve been impaled by the arm he webbed up. It would’ve been such an unfortunate end for such a fascinating specimen.

The sticky webs were soaked red as Spider-Man webbed up the wound on his side, breathing heavily. Metallic spikes protruded out of the centre of Otto’s arms, almost indistinguishable from the claws surrounding it.

Otto smirked. “I hope you’re ready for round two.”

…

Spider-Man could feel his heart battering against his rib cage, feel the blood pounding in his head.

For so long, he’d relied on his Spider Sense to get him out of a tough situation but now that precognitive sense, the sense that had carried him out of life-threatening situations time and time again was proving to be unreliable against the threat he was facing currently.

For the first time in a long time, Spider-Man felt fear not for the life of others but for his own.

Spider-Man turned to his left, noticing Batman was in a worse off situation than him. His leg had just been unattached, and he was crawling toward it. Spider-Man felt the pain that seared on his side. They wouldn’t be able to defeat Otto in their current state. He had to grab Bats and get the hell out of here.

Spider-Man didn’t have time to come up with a plan though, because as soon as he had motioned his head to the side, his spider sense went off. He dodged the first spike, but a second soon followed, scraping his arm. He cast a quick glance to the left and saw Batman dodge one spike but get impaled by the other.

“NO!” Spider-Man yelled.

Spider-Man didn’t have time to see how he was doing because another spike was headed towards him. He dodged it, using the momentum to launch himself towards Otto but sensing the danger, one arm lashed at him, Spider-Man webbed it up but two took its place from behind, grabbing his right arm and left leg, keeping him bound. Spider-Man easily broke out but was at the mercy of the spike.

However, an electric shock ran through the arms again. Otto let out a scream of pain, the arm fell limply to the side. Spider-Man turned to the left to see the Batman pull a spike off his shoulder. Right hand clutched over his shoulder he pulled out the Batclaw and grabbed the prosthetic. Spider-Man taking this split-second opportunity rushed towards Batman before Otto could recover.

Spider-Man webbed up Batman’s shoulder and lifted him up. “Let’s get out of here,” Spider-Man said, holding him over his shoulders. “Damn you’re kinda heavy.”

“Remember what I said in training about your spider sense,” Batman said.

“Now is not the time,” Spider-Man said grunting. He launched a web and was ready to swing out when he felt the familiar buzz and a tentacle lunged towards him like a spear.

“You don’t give me any room to breathe,” Spider-Man yelled. “Both of you.”

“It seems I’ve been too lenient,” Otto said, launching tentacles that Spider-Man barely dodge. “You’re proving to be a much bigger nuisance than intended. Like rats you cling on too survival.”

All the lights around them went off. The only source being the four red dots indicating Otto’s tentacles.

“You won’t be alive for much longer, unfortunately.”

…

“Great,” Spider-Man said. “Just like everybody in my life you’re leaving me in the dark too.”

Batman could hear the shakiness in his voice. He knew Peter used humour to disguise his nervousness. The only sound was the metallic whirring of Otto’s tentacles. The snapping and clawing like the gnashing of teeth. Their only indication when Otto was going to lash out was Peter’s unhoned sixth sense. If Batman were to go by the impressions Peter gave of it, it would be a low buzz right about now.

Spider-Man backed off, holding Batman across his back. The four red lights just stood in their place almost harmlessly, as if Otto was daring them to attack. Batman knew Spider-Man wasn’t that careless. Otto was testing them through uncertainty. If any of them lost their composure, it would be the end of them, and Batman could feel the uncertainty in Peter’s body. It was in the tension of his muscles and the shakiness of his voice as he threw quips at Otto.

“So are you just going to flash those red lights at me,” Spider-Man said. “Hope you don’t mind if I make a break for it.”

Otto was dead silent, the tension in the air was like a ball sitting on the edge of a tall skyscraper. Just about anything could make it drop.

And something did.

Otto was the first one to draw. Spider-Man dodge to the left , anticipating the second arm Spider-Man prepared himself to dodge, what he didn’t expect was for an arm to grab his leg from underneath.

“No,” Spider-Man yelled. Another arm flanked him from the side. Batman grabbed an electric Batarang and launched it at the tentacle. The electric current coursed through it. Otto cursed.

Spider-Man grabbed Batman and started his run again. Otto recovered quickly. The arms followed them like snakes, red lights shining across the walls. Spider-Man dodged them for the most part, Batman assisting by throwing sonic Batarangs that disturbed the progress of the arms.

That was their song and dance until Otto managed to lunge a spike straight through Spider-Man’s thigh.

Spider-Man yelled in pain, dropping Batman. The other arms emerged from the darkness, their red lights casting snakelike shadows on the wall. Each of the tentacles snapped as if they were animals savouring the moment. Batman tried to launch an electric Batarang but it was swatted aside. In one brief second Spider-Man was dragged into the darkness.

…

The buzzing, oh god the buzzing. The flare of pain shooting through his thigh. Adrenaline coursing through his body as he tried to desperately dodge.

The only thing Spider-Man could see were flashes of red, the only thing he could hear was the snap of the claws and the groaning of metal. There was an insane scramble of webs. Spider-Man managed to rip himself away from the spike impaled in his thigh but the pain, God the pain. He was slower now and he realised it, he dodged and dodged but he could feel the scratches searing through his body. Finally, he launched the electric web. The arms stopped, he heard Otto yell in pain. Spider-Man placed a makeshift bandage over his thigh. Spider-Man tried running but the pain was too much, so he swung instead. He was starting to lose web fluid, his body was aching all over. He felt his heart slam against his chest and his laboured breath choking him. Spider-Man was exhausted, Peter Parker was terrified.

…

Batman crawled his way, leg in his left hand and his right at his belt, ready to draw. He had to literally drag himself to the room with the green glow sticks.

Barbara’s voice was like a spark, barely crackling through the receivers under the sewers. “Batman… I can’t tra… Spider-Man…”

“Did you decrypt the data?”

“Data… yes…” the concern in her voice swept away by the interference. “Where’s… Spider…”

“I’m here,” Spider-Man said. Batman turned to see Spider-Man swing into the room, almost collapsing on the walkway. The makeshift bandages on his thigh and arm soaked with blood. “I webbed up the Octopus’s tentacles really good and the webs are really conductive so I’m guessing that’s why old Doctor Octopus’s taking so long to recover.”

Spider-Man looked up, almost satisfied with himself. “Doctor Octopus, has a nice ring to it.”

“Now’s not the time to make jokes,” Batman said. “We have to get out of here.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here then,” Spider-Man said.

“And risk having him follow us to the cave?” Batman said. “I don’t think so.”

“What do you think we should do?” Spider-Man asked, leaning on one foot with his arms crossed.

“We trap him here.”

“How?” Spider-Man asked. “I don’t think it’s occurred to you yet, but I’m injured and you’re well…”

Spider-Man pointed at Batman holding his prosthetic leg as if it were a toy.

“The foundation here looks brittle, and I have a few explosive gel charges,” Batman said. “Do you still have web fluid and those web mines of yours?”

Spider-Man rolled up his sleeves and flicked his wrist. “Enough.”

Batman propped himself up on his leg, leaning across a piece of rubble he stared up at the tunnels Spider-Man had just appeared from and the tunnels that lead into the glowstick room.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Batman said.

…

Those ‘heroes’ Otto was up against were proving to be even bigger nuisances than he thought. Scrappy, incompetent nuisances but nuisances, nonetheless.

As he felt the electric signal start to fizzle out, he took a deep breath to refocus himself. The constant bursts of electricity were starting to faze him, the straight hallway seemed like it was seesawing left to right and his thoughts felt like scrambled eggs. If the insect had any more of those electric webs, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to continue the fight. Better to end this now and then make the necessary adjustments to the neurochip than risk the acceleration of his disease.

The bottom two tentacles of his acting as legs, Otto ‘walked’ to the edge of the tunnel only to be greeted by a red speck. Spikes appeared from the ends of his tentacles.

“Are those spikes on your tentacles or are you just happy to see me?” Spider-Man said.

“You talk so much for a man on the verge of death.”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Eh, just part of the job.”

“I’m assuming your primitive minds thought to come up with a plan to disable me while I was encumbered,” Otto said. “I figure if I take a step I’ll walk right into a trap.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Spider-Man said.

“Where’s your Bat friend?” Otto asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Spider-Man said. He started to flick his wrists. “Hey Dr. Octopus.”

“What type of name…?”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Wanna try something cool,” Spider-Man said. “Let’s see what’s faster, my spider sense or your tentacles.”

“We’ve already…”

“No not like that,” Spider-Man said. “Like cowboys. Since like you said you’ll just be walking into a trap anyway. We’re a good distance away from each other. I set my web settings to an impact web and your tentacles have spikes. Whoever has the fastest draw wins.”

“Very childish,” Otto mumbled. “Very primitive. As expected of you but…” Otto grinned. “If it means I can get rid of you without too much of a hassle, fine.”

“Great,” Spider-Man said. “I start the countdown?”

“Be my guest.”

“3.”

Spider-Man flicked his wrist.

“2.”

Spider-Man’s body tensed. Otto on the other hand was relaxed.

“1.”

It was obvious Otto’s tentacles were faster, what Otto didn’t expect were the web mines to explode in a flash of white. His arm scraped against the wall. He tried launching the second one, the third and the fourth, but they were greeted by mines that tethered his arms to the wall as if he were crucified.

“Your little gimmick isn’t going to last long,” Otto growled, as his arms start to snap free of the webbing.

“Oh, I know,” Spider-Man said. “But this is.”

“Batman!”

Otto barely registered Batman up in the shadows, dangling from a web. Spider-Man grabbed him just as one of Otto’s arms broke free. Otto lashed out at them, but Batman pressed something on his belt and there was an explosion. Rubble rained down from the tunnel entrance. Inches away from grabbing Spider-Man’s foot, he grabbed a piece of rubble. Otto tried one desperate attempt to reach the green glow sticks, but his attempt was met by failure as a brick landed on his head, causing his world to split in two. The last thing he saw in a blurry haze was the green light of the glowsticks fading to black.

…

Barbara tapped her fingers against the Batcomputer’s Batdashboard. Her only information on Bruce and her boyfriend’s status were scrambled communications and loud metallic noises. Anxiety was scrambling her mind and her only source of ease was the constant check ins by Alfred who’d get her a cup of tea or cake before heading out. Alfred always knew how to calm her down.

Just as she was sipping down her third cup of tea there was the signature groan of metal that indicated on of the alternate Batcave doors were being open. Barbara rolled her wheelchair down the various winding walkways to the sewer entrance and there they were. Bruce leaned on Peter for support using his left hand, his right hand holding onto his prosthetic leg. Peter had a makeshift bandage on his right thigh. He was struggling to carry Bruce through as he limped into Batcave. They both had their masks off, and tons of tiny scratches littered their body.

Barbara gasped. She rolled her wheelchair towards them. “What the hell happened to you guys?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

“Dr. Octopus happened,” Peter said, shifting his weight and lending Bruce to Barbara for support. “Call Alfred, tell him Bruce needs tending to.”

“What about you?” Barbara asked. Bruce leaned on the wheelchair, breathing heavily. Barbara placed a hand on his back.

“I have missed calls from my aunt to get back to.”

Peter launched a web and swung to the upper walkways of the Batcave. Barbara turned to Bruce.

“Alfred is on his way,” she said. “Do you have any way to repair your…”

Even injured, Bruce was all business. “Did you decrypt the data?”

Barbara was used to this, where Bruce would revert to Batman mode to avoid talking about his problems. She let out a silent sigh of protest. “Yes, I did. It’s all account books and news articles, all to do with your parents.”

“Is there any correlation?” Bruce asked. “Knowing the Master Planner…”

Barbara nodded. “There was. The account books had info on donations and grants made by your parents but some important numbers were missing. The dates on the books matched the dates on the newspapers which…”

Barbara wanted to avoid saying what came next, but she knew it was inevitable.

“What?”

“Money laundering.” Barbara let out a sigh. “The news articles spoke about the Falcone’s illegal funds and those missing funds…”

The weight of Bruce’s silence was felt. Alfred was her lifeguard, saving her just in a nick of time before Bruce could say anything.

“What happened?” Alfred asked as Bruce stumbled towards Alfred’s shoulder.

“The Master Planner,” Bruce said. “Call Lucius, ask him to send any files on Otto’s research so we can reattach my leg.”

They were now standing in front of the Batcomputer. “Computer, show me the files Barbara decrypted. Tell me if there’s any link between those files and the locations the Master Planner attacked.”

“Affirmative,” droned the computer.

Alfred and Barbara cast one look of understanding at each other before Alfred set Bruce on a chair and it was back to business as usual.

…

Peter leaned against a chair. He selected Aunt May’s contact and tried to ignore the pain all over his body as the phone rang. After barely a second, Aunt May picked up.

“Hi Aunt…”

“Peter why haven’t you been answering my calls?” Aunt May snapped.

“Sorry, my phone was on silent,” Peter said. “I didn’t see your calls until…”

Barbara rolled up to Peter, a concerned look in her eyes. Peter assured her it was fine with a hand gesture just as Aunt May said “I hope you used protection.”

Peter reddened. “MAY!”

Barbara sensing the embarrassment in Peter’s voice chuckled.

“Look I’ll be staying at Barbara’s tonight,” Peter said. “Not because of what you think. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter said his goodbyes and hung up.

“That sounded like a rollercoaster,” Barbara said.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, a grin on his face. “It was.”

“I got some anti-septic,” Barbara said, holding up the bottle and a wad of cotton. “For your…”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I’m going to have to take out my shirt though so…”

“Take out your shirt big boy,” Barbara said.

“But I’m a guy…”

“Peter, we’re dating.”

Peter took out his shirt, still a little embarrassed. Barbara paused for a second.

“Wow,” Barbara said.

“W-what?” Peter stammered.

“I just thought you’d be skinnier.”

“Is me not being skinny good or bad?”

“Good,” Barbara said with a grin. “Just that your body doesn’t match the dork I’m dating.”

Barbara dipped the wad in anti-septic and started dabbing the scratches.

“This Master Planner really did a number on you.”

Peter was still a little embarrassed as Barbara rubbed his wounds. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold septic or Barbara’s fingers that sent the tingle down his spine. He looked away as Barbara ran the wad over him. “I uh… call him Dr. Octopus. Those tentacles of his had spikes on them and…”

Peter’s face darkened. “Barbara I was not ready for that. Those arms of his- they… they were faster than me and…”

Barbara held his hand.

“I could’ve died there,” Peter said. “And I don’t know how I feel about that. Why… why are we attacking him anyway?”

Barbara didn’t reply. She unbandaged Peter’s thigh wound and she winced.

“Yeah…” Peter said, his voice shaking. “What were we doing that for?”

“Spider-Man,” droned the voice of the Batcomputer. “Batman wants to see you.”

Peter put on his shirt. “No rest for the wicked,” he sighed.

Peter walked over to Bruce who was sitting in front of the computer.

“You have work,” Bruce said. “Tomorrow, I want you to observe Gotham Central Hospital, The Martha Wayne Hospital and Thomas Wayne Memorial Centre for any suspicious activity.”

But Peter’s attention wasn’t on what Bruce was saying. On the corner of the large Batcomputer screen was a news channel freeze framed, on the red headline at the bottom it said: MARTHA CONNORS (39) AND HER BOYFRIEND FOUND DEAD AT THEIR HOME. EX-HUSBAND PRIME SUSPECT IN THE CASE.

“Bruce, could I see that,” Peter said, pointing at the article.

“Our priority is Otto,” Bruce said. “We’ll handle this…”

Bruce was surprised to see Peter’s mouth wide open in surprise.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Peter said. “Sure, you’re an asshole but this is taking it too far.”

Bruce wanted to say something, but Peter interrupted him before he could continue.

“An innocent person was just killed,” Peter said. “And your priority is Otto Octavius, the man who almost killed us.”

“Clearly this has been a traumatic experience for…”

Peter picked Bruce out of his chair. Barbara yelled out Peter, but Peter ignored her.

“Why are we doing this?” Peter screamed. “Huh? I could’ve died out there, we could’ve died out there and for what? Because Otto said naughty things about mummy and daddy.”

“You’re just a child,” Bruce spat. “You don’t know what you’re…”

Peter let go of him, Bruce stumbled on his chair. Peter noticed the Batarang in his left hand. Asshole. “This isn’t for the greater good of Gotham, this isn’t to protect innocent lives. Sure, he’s a psycho but he only threatened us. You… you…”

“This is all about you, isn’t it?” Peter said. “You can’t handle what he’s saying about your precious parents and want to drag me, drag us into your mess.” When Bruce wasn’t replying, Peter chuckled, defeated. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Barbara stepped in. “Bruce…”

“You better not take his side again,” Peter snapped.

Barbara closed her eyes, trying her best to disguise the turmoil in her eyes. She breathed. “Peter’s right. You always warned Dick and I to not make things personal but now…” Barbara sighed. “What’s happening between you and Otto. It’s…”

Bruce was still silent. He sat on his chair like a statue, just watching Barbara and Peter go on while he remained impassive.

“This isn’t like you,” Barbara said. “You’re a good leader, a good man but you’re changing. With this leg and what’s happening with Jason and Otto.”

“I want a good reason.” Peter almost hissed out those words. “A good reason why I had to almost die…”

“Peter,” Barbara said firmly. Peter and Barbara met eyes. Peter understood that now wasn’t the time, but he was still pissed. He turned around, arms crossed, tapping his feet.

“You need to talk to us,” Barbara said. “Let us in. You don’t have to…”

“You know why you almost died, Peter?” Bruce said, breaking his silence. “Because you didn’t hone your senses…”

“Yup, I’m out of here,” Peter said. “Babs, I hope you enjoy talking to a brick…”

“I’ll send the data on Connors to Barbara,” Bruce said. “I hope you two enjoy your little personal crusade.”

“Bruce…” Barbara started but Bruce had already turned to face the computer.

“Batgirl, consider this a dismissal. Your recent injuries have rendered you incapable of doing any work.”

“Bruce,” Barbara yelled. Bruce ignored her.

“You are no longer allowed access to the Batcave. Goodbye Barbara Gordon.”

And with those words, Bruce returned to face the Batcomputer and Barbara knew that meant nothing would get through to him. Not even his friends.

…

“Miss Gordon and Master Parker were positively fuming when they left the cave, I assume you had something to…”

“Alfred… I’m…”

“You don’t have to say it. I know you are.”

“I just… this leg. When I went into the sewers, I realised just how… how useless I am without it.”

“You still survived, didn’t you? You’re not as helpless without it as you think you are.”

“I still… I…”

Bruce blinked away his doubt.

“Alfred were my parents… the data I got from his computer. Money laundering, bribing, cover ups. All these deals were made with Falcone and…”

“I’m as clueless as you are, Master Bruce. I want to uphold the image I have of them. The goodness I saw in them but…”

“It’s murky.”

“It is. Like the detective novels I used to read when I was younger.”

“I need to clear this up, I must see Falcone. Alone.”

Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is that why you said what you said to Miss Gordon and Master Parker? To shoulder this burden alone?”

“…”

Alfred sighed. “It seems you still have much to learn. Great detective or no.”

…

Jason thought leaving Bruce would make things go back to normal- that he’d be back in Crime Alley, jacking tyres, pickpocketing, and selling scrap but Bruce’s type of crazy must’ve been infectious because instead of doing all that, he instead beat up any ‘medicine man’ and pimp he saw running around acting like he owned the place.

He'd pocketed one of the Robin masks, at that time thinking it’d help him get some cred and make scrap-selling easy. He’d jacked a tyre from some asshole visiting one of the cathouses after a long day of work and was about to sell it to one of the usual buyers when he saw it in an alleyway. Two guys in a deserted alleyway, barely looking at each other. One of em slipped a tiny little packet of crack to the other, they looked around, making sure they weren’t watched before they left.

Jason saw things like this every day, it was par for the course when you’re a Crime Alley kid. Just do your own thing, keep your head down and mind your own business. This was how you survived here.

But this time around he didn’t want to mind his own business.

Red hoodie over his head he stalked the dealer and before he could find the next piece of shit that was going to buy from him, Jason dropped down and beat the shit out of him. Bruce had taught him all the right bones to break though nobody would cry if he lost a few teeth, either.

In a few weeks, everyone knew him as The Red Hoodie which was a shame because that meant he’d have to tuck away his favourite hoodie and wouldn’t be able to wear it in public, ever (another thing he learnt from Bruce, paranoia). He’d leave druggies and drug dealers bruised. Nobody was safe. To make sure he didn’t get in the way of another Daredevil in the streets, he memorised his shifts, but it seemed the lawyer didn’t care what he got up to. Jason always came home with bruised knuckles and sometimes even a bruised face but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t satisfying to beat the shit out of some of these thugs.

It was on one of his patrols as the Red Hoodie that he saw something peculiar. Some idiot was trying to steal food from Tony’s Butchery, the unfortunate thing for this idiot was that Tony’s was ‘insured’ by some small time thugs of Falcone’s. So now, Fat Tony and two of his ‘friends’ managed to catch up and threw the fool at the back.

Jason didn’t want to help him out. Like it or not, there were rules in Crime Alley and the new blood had to learn them the hard way but it also reminded Jason of when he was a kid trying to get by in the streets while his mum and dad…

Jason decided to help the new blood out. Jason leapt from one rooftop to the next. He watched the scene beneath him. Tony had a spatula in his hand, the metal looked hot. One of his goon’s was putting on a pair of brass knuckles, the other was kicking the poor guy in the belly. The food he tried to steal was already in the dirt.

“Look at this little man,” said one of Falcone’s goons. “Thought he could just waltz in here and grab a bite.”

“Please, I’m starving…”

The Falcone goon didn’t relent. “Shut the hell up! Speak when spoken to.”

The guy looked old. His skin had little patches on them, and his hair was white. He was wearing a ragged lab coat and patched clothes that had seen better days. He looked awfully pale too.

“You cost me,” Tony said, rolling up his sleeves. “You know how much you’re going to have to pay for that sausage you just dropped, why I oughta…”

“Is he going to have to pay for the food you ate too, you fat fuck?” Jason said, jumping down from the rooftop.

Tony and his two goons turned around to face him. The goon with the brass knuckles grinned.

“Who the fuck are you supposed to be, Little Red Riding Hood? If I had a nickle for every Batman wannabe I’d…”

Jason took care of him first, he kneed him in the crotch and using the weight of his body tossed him over his shoulder.

“What the…”

But Jason wasn’t done yet, he picked up the dirty sausage and threw it at Tony’s face. While he was still reeling, he ripped the spatula from his hand and knocked him across the face. Tony screamed, a spatula shaped brand on his fat cheeks. The Falcone goon who was beating up a poor man just a few minutes ago panicked and pulled out a gun. Jason got out of the way, Tony wasn’t so lucky. A bullet hit his leg and Tony started crying, rolling in the mud like a pig. Jason dodged the bullets like Bruce taught him to, and when he got close, he punched the thug across the face and grabbed his gun. Reloading it with a brutal efficiency and pointing it straight at the goon’s temple.

Jason grinned, the fear in the guy’s face was so satisfying, the pungent smell of urine eroding the air as the goon begged for his life.

He shouldn’t have revelled in the moment cause brass knuckles had picked up a crowbar. Jason ducked but piss-pants realising he wasn’t in danger kicked Jason in the stomach. He let go of the gun and piss pants was about to grab it, but Jason kicked him in the face.

The other thug tried to get in a lucky swing with his crowbar, but Jason ducked and socked him in the chin. Before he could recover, Jason kicked his shin and punched his stomach, landing a punch in his face that knocked him out. Piss-pants made a run for it and Tony was still writhing in pain because of the gunshot.

Jason extended an arm to the man, he noticed he only had one. “Let’s get out of here.”

…

After the whole incident at Tony’s, Jason grabbed some food from his butchery and took the man to one of his safehouses just as the police sirens were starting to howl. While they were eating peanuts, that’s when Jason knew he was sitting across a monster.

Curt Connors. Jason heard about him from the papers. He’d killed his wife and her boyfriend and now was on the run. The murders were brutal and were a far cry from the man sitting across him.

Pale, with patches of skin on his body and his missing arms, clothes that barely fit him. Curt Connors didn’t look like the man he heard about from the newspapers. No, he looked like his m…

“If I can just get my arm back,” Curt said. “Mr. Hoodie, I have to get my arm back.”

The way he said it, the desperate tone in his voice. It made him want to beat him up, it made him want to…

“I’ll be back.”

Jason walked over to the phone booth. Crime Alley was one of the few streets in Gotham that still had them. He flicked in some coins. Bruce would deal with this, he had to.

While the phone dialled, for some reason, some strange reason he thought about his mother. Thought about how, just days before she died because of that fucking poison, she said…

“Just one more,” she sobbed. “One more, Jason and I promise you I’ll be a good mum again. I promise you, Jason.”

Ma had never asked Jason to buy her the poison. No, she always did it herself while Jason watched… no… looked away. While Jason looked away. He was young then. Young and naïve, he thought she’d keep her promise.

I haven’t been a good mother, Jason. Have I? Why are you so quiet? Jason, Jason. Don’t leave me alone.

She didn’t live long enough to keep it.

And now, that damn man. That stupid… that… murderer.

“Hello, Wayne residence, how may I…?” Alfred said in that smooth voice of his.

Jason slammed the phone back in its socket. Running back to help the murderer, not knowing why.

…

“Oh, Carmine,” Butch said. “You’re going to love this. Someone wants to see you.”

Carmine played with the rose in his suit lapel. “Butch, I only have room for a few visitors. Send him to Tony or Walter, I don’t have…”

Butch grinned. “It’s a family friend.”

Carmine stopped fiddling with the rose. “Send him in.”

Carmine sat back in his chair. When you were in this line of business, you don’t make many friends but the ones you do make stick around forever whether they like to or not. It had been a while, a long while since Carmine was glad to see him. Especially since he was going through such a tough time thanks to one of those freaks.

This friend of his was very popular, his guards had to do a double take as he took the seat across him.

“Mr. Wayne,” Carmine Falcone said with a grin. “How may I help you?”

To be continued…