Chapter Text
Now, Jason would wager that extended exposure to Brucie Wayne would leave even the most stalwart minds with some serious childhood PTSD, his own included.
Dick clearly suffered from long-term exposure and it showed in his sense of humour and early costuming. Discowing is something dredged out of hell designed purely to traumatize henchmen. Jason would never tout his death as something fortunate, but he definitely dodged a metaphorical crowbar there.
Either way, Brucie Wayne’s larger-than-life reputation means that he has indeed left his mark in public memory. As someone who used to be privy to the behind-the-scenes of Gotham’s himbo prince, Jason is well aware that this persona is characterised by two idiotic core tenets.
One, getting himself into ridiculously stupid situations, and two, masterfully bullshitting his way back out unscathed.
This situation definitely counts as one of those.
All Bruce had to do was dress as Batman, sweep in all emo-like, grunt a couple times and everything would have gone smoothly. In and out in twenty seconds, no fuss, no talking. No one would have suspected anything, Jason’s cover would still be intact, and judging by the angulation of the security cameras in the Watchtower, Babs wouldn’t be recording every frustrated twitch of his in 8k 300FPS resolution.
Jason is kind of just standing at the side, watching this all happen like a ping-pong match. He doesn’t like obeying Bruce on principle, but he’s been promised freedom so he’s going to follow the rules for now.
“-Can’t just let Wayne take him! He’s on the FBI wanted list!”
“There are extraneous circumstances involved,” Superman says firmly, “It’s fine. Trust me on this. There’s a reason why we let Batman deal with Gotham villains and villain-adjacent figures.”
“Well, he is only on the list because because he kept on killing the guys who ranked above him, but still-”
“Not helping, Flash-”
“Batman will explain later. Now is not the time for-”
Alas, Bruce is a drama queen at heart, and thanks to him, this is not going smoothly. The proceedings that Jason is now being forced to watch has the approximate consistency of crunchy peanut butter.
Without Batman present to sign off on Jason’s release, the heroes present are (rightfully) suspicious of some rich guy just showing up on a highly secure satellite facility and trying to free a prisoner with the power of uber-nepotism. Superman’s entire ‘trust me bro’ schtick isn’t really helping, not when the man is being this tight-lipped about why he’s helping a previously-secured crime lord free into the wild again.
It is moving along though. At a snail's pace.
With the power of Superman and Bruce (sort of) on his side, so long as he maintains an IQ of over 25 he should get through this relatively unscathed.
Mostly unscathed.
A little scathed, at worst.
He can see the light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel. He’s so close to getting out of here. The cuffs are off, he’s been cleared of (some) crimes, and the only thing extending his current agony is the way Bruce is dragging his feet, Brucie-style, extending this purgatory of his.
“I really don’t see the problem here,” Bruce is saying patiently. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion? I see TV heroes getting knocked around all the time, so some brain damage is probably warranted at this point.”
Green Arrow, whose saint-like patience is probably rivalling Jason’s at this point in time, pinches the bridge of his nose once again and breathes deeply and rhythmically like he’s reciting a ‘finding inner peace’ mantra he found online somewhere.
“Bruce, I hate to break it to you, but-” Green Lantern pauses like he’s about to break some incredibly sad news, “-he decapitated, like, ten people. We can’t just let him go.”
“Get over it,” Jason says. Honestly, they seem to be really hung up on that point. Besides, they have no definitive proof. There’s no evidence anymore, as Jason bribed enough people in law enforcement to look the other way or otherwise ‘mishandle’ any residual traces. The only thing that’s left is nearly everyone in Gotham’s underworld who knows otherwise, but they won’t be saying anything anytime soon.
Ergo, they only have hearsay, and they all know it.
Everyone, except for Brucie, apparently.
“Come on,” he waves a dismissive hand around, scrunching his nose in disgust, “Everyone knows the Red Hood is an urban myth. Jason's just going through a cosplay phase. Kids these days and all that jazz.”
Silence.
Green Arrow's eyebrow twitches, to Jason’s great schadenfreude. Slowly, haltingly, he turns to the Flash, who is pulling a face that could best be described as ‘dibs not’. Green Lanterns tries to subtly shelter behind Superman, who is desperately trying to keep a straight face, which would have been believable to anyone who didn’t know him. Given that every single person in the room does, in fact, know him, it’s not very effective at all.
Nevermind, this is the best. Brucie for the win, truly top tier comedy.
“Yeah,” Jason’s voice nearly shakes with repressed humour. He’s never been more thankful that he has a voice modulator. Using advanced psychological tactics called ‘going along with it’, Jason decides to put in his two cents, as unhelpful as they may be. “I’m a cosplayer. You got me.”
The sheer number of incredulous looks he gets is truly glorious.
Is this why Bruce does it? Is the true meaning of life found in being irredeemably annoying?
No. It can’t be that simple. If it was, then the Replacement would have reached enlightenment by now, but he’s still beating up petty criminals with the rest of the Bats, so it’s clearly something else.
Either way, one must remember that Jason was still Robin for a decent period of time. That meant a long period of exposure to Bruce’s particular eccentricities. Such as the Brucie Wayne persona, his penchant for naming (and officially trademarking) revolutionary technology with a Bat- prefix no matter how stupid it sounded, the constant, subtle deadpan jokes, the irony of his brand, etcetera, etcetera.
Bruce might have been a depressed, emotionally constipated asshole most of the time, but none who truly knew him would deny that he definitely had a subtle yet very effective sense of humour.
Jason spent a portion of his most malleable childhood years next to this man. He’s not going to deny that a little, a bit, a teensy part of his humour might have been influenced as a result.
That’s the only reason why.
“Like that Batman guy,” Jason says, dead serious, “Everyone knows he’s totally fake too.”
A beat of disbelieving silence.
Sparing a glance over at Bruce, he recoils when he notices the nearly imperceptible glint in Bruce’s eye looks suspiciously like pride. He’s not dealing with that now. Not here.
“Alright,” Green Lantern says slowly, “I will admit that is objectively hilarious and I will be telling him all about this later, but, you have to be joking. You can’t seriously live in Gotham and actually believe that Batman and the others don’t exist-”
Simultaneously, Flash turns to Green Arrow, hands in his hair, “Are you sure you didn’t give him brain damage when arresting him or something?” He is completely ignored.
“Batman exists and we work with him.”
“No you don't.” Bruce's answer is matter-of-fact, self-assured in the most annoying way possible. “I've been kidnapped and ransomed so. Many. Times ,” he enunciates, eyes wide. “He would have rescued me, wouldn't you think? At least once.”
“Have you considered that maybe he doesn’t wanna deal with you,” Flash mutters under his breath. Hal shoots him a commiserating, sympathetic look. Jason agrees with them both wholeheartedly.
“What was that?” Bruce asks, head tilted. Ohohoho. He totally heard what they said. Somebody’s about to suffer.
“Haha,” Bruce’s next victim laughs, “Nothing really important.”
“Everything you say is important. To me. Because I fund you.”
Jason enjoys watching Flash struggle to answer that one.
“Just that,” he casts a desperate glance over to the other heroes, practically begging for assistance. They do nothing except for nodding encouragingly, which is the equivalent of high-fiving a person who is currently drowning, and then leaving them to suffocate under the surf with a thumbs-up. “I just can’t believe you don’t think Batman exists. Isn’t he like, kind of important to you Gothamites?”
“Yeah,” Bruce says, sticking his nose up, “Like an imaginary mascot animal. That doesn’t mean he’s real though.”
“If you don’t think he exists,” Flash’s voice is steadily creeping up in pitch, “then why are you funding us in the first place?”
“Because aliens.”
“Because you think they’re a threat?”
“No,” Bruce says confidently. “Because I think they’re hot.”
With that, he saucily winks at Superman, complete with double finger guns, and Jason mentally bleaches his brain. He kind of really wants to be anywhere but here, please and thank you. That is not something he wants to be aware of, ever.
With the sheer mental fortitude of someone who not only grew up with Bruce but has suffered through regular exposure since entering society, Green Arrow does everyone a favour and rapidly course-corrects the conversation back into somewhat safer waters, namely, the entire ‘Batman doesn’t exist’ topic.
“So,” he says. “You believe wholeheartedly in aliens, but refuse to believe that your city has a vigilante protector.”
“No vigilante in my city would be insane enough to theme themselves after bats. That’s kind of peak cringe. We have the rogues for that, and at least they’re fun about it. He’s just kind of lame.”
“What about the Batsignal? That exists.” Green Lantern adds.
“Tourist attraction,” Bruce says, like this explains anything at all.
No less than three separate people pull faces at that.
“Hmm,” Green Arrow strokes his little goatee, “I wasn’t aware that Gotham had tourists.”
Which. Honestly, super valid. The city has a well established reputation as a glorified death trap. Someone ran the numbers, only to find out that active warzones are statistically safer for civilians than Gotham. The media had a field day with the discovery.
“He’s joking, right?” Flash whispers to Superman. When he isn’t afforded a response, his face falls further. “I knew rich people were out of touch, but… this. This is next level delusional behaviour.”
Superman laughs softly, “Look, Bruce is a… character, but he means well. There are variables at play Batman hasn’t shared with you yet-” Green Arrow quietly huffs an of course under his breath, which Superman pays no attention to. “All I can say at the moment is that I have it handled, and bringing them both back to Gotham, alleged crimes or no, is the best course of action here.”
“I can’t,” Green Arrow says flatly. He turns to Superman and sighs. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from, but the fact remains that we found him dealing in Star City, my city, so we’ll be keeping him here until we’ve either got some answers or Batman himself comes to take him off our hands.”
“Batman is unavailable right now,” Superman blatantly lies, standing less than two meters away from Batman’s very available civilian identity, “so we will have to find an alternative arrangement.”
Batman is very available right now, Jason wants to yell. Batman is standing next to you and is having the time of his life fucking with you all.
He turns to Bruce, takes a deep, calming breath, and barely manages to dredge up that inch of patience he previously gathered to refrain from throttling Bruce here and now. Just a little strangulation would be so satisfying, just to shut him up. But that would be entirely counterintuitive to getting off this fucking satellite, so Jason takes his time to beat back the embers of that idea before paying attention to the conversation again.
“-arriving in a minute, if a third opinion is necessary for this process.”
“Fine, that’s acceptable.”
They’ve found some sort of accord, finally. Took them long enough.
Seriously, one would think a tag-team of Superman and Batman (even disguised as Brucie Wayne) would make getting out of here a cake-walk. If Jason was in either one of their places he could have talked his way out of here nearly half an hour ago.
But alas, neither of them are helpful. In fact, they're being borderline useless. No wonder why it’s taking so long to get out of here.
It’s almost like they’re purposefully trying to drag this out. Like they’re stalling for something.
Jason’s blood goes cold.
They’re stalling.
“I heard there was an issue?”
That voice.
No.
Jason’s blood pressure ratchets up to a solid 210/170 in half a millisecond, and his heart rate accelerates to dangerous levels faster than a damn NASCAR driver.
No.
“Wonder Woman!” Bruce’s cheery voice grates at his ears, and Jason wonders the possibility of smashing through the nearest window and taking his chances with the freezing vacuum of outer space. “How wonderful to see you! My darling baby boy is such a fan! Might I hope to get an autograph?
NO.
Every finger on his metaphorical monkey paw has curled, all except for the one in the middle. Who needs enemies when you can have parents like this?
Jason, not for the first time today, debates the merits of renting out a warehouse, squeezing into one of his old Robin costumes and sending his location data to the Joker.