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Jason was so fucked. 

There was a hole burning hot and angry in his side and a Bat staring him down from the rooftop. Jason had never been more thankful that he decided on red and black as his color scheme. “Need something, Baby Bat?” he called as nonchalantly as he could, sliding the magazine out of his gun and inspecting the magwell. “Or are you just here to hover?”

Damian didn’t answer for a long while. Jason didn’t look up at him – despite what Dick claimed, he was absolutely sure the brat could smell fear. Not that Jason was scared. But…ya know. If he was scared, Damian would probably smell it. So Jason didn’t look at him. He finished inspecting the well and slid the magazine home. 

As he was pulling back the slide, Damian’s voice drifted down from the roof. “Father requires we all go back to the Cave.”

Jason swore vehemently. In his head, because doing it out loud would definitely give him away. “Tell him I’ve got some clean up to do.”

Damian scoffed. “Crime Alley is as clean as it gets right now,” he said, dropping down on silent feet. “Father is going to be disappointed if you are not there.” Jason rolled his eyes, thankful for his helmet. He wasn’t sure he could control his face right now. 

“Let him be disappointed,” Jason snarled, holstering his gun. “I have things to do.”

Jason knew almost immediately that Damian was suspicious. He didn’t even have to see the raised eyebrow. He could feel it, coming off of the brat in waves. “What happened?” Damian asked, prodding at Jason’s shoulder. “Where are you hurt?”

Jason batted at Damian’s hand. “I’m not hurt, brat.” He skipped back a step, biting his lip to keep from yelping at the fire tracing up his ribs. “I just don’t want to play family.” Jason tapped once on the grip of his gun, then let his hands relax at his sides. “Besides, I don’t feel like enduring the scathing glares.”

Damian scoffed. “You tried to kill Timothy. What did you expect?”

“So did you,” Jason hissed. “But you’re the son of Batman. Who would shun you?”

Damian jerked like he’d been hit. His face rippled under the domino mask. He tsked softly. “Whatever. Come or don’t.” Damian shrugged, the cape fluttering at his heels. “I delivered the message. What you do with it is your choice.”

He didn’t stick around to hear an answer. His grapple gun was loud in the quiet, and then he was gone. “Fucking Bats,” Jason muttered. “Meddling where they aren’t wanted.”

It was beside the fact that he did want to go to the Cave. That didn’t matter, not right now. Not when he had a hole the size of a thimble in his side and brass between his ribs. Having the Bats labor over his injury was more trouble than it was worth – especially with how he’s treated them.

Alfred would call this self-sabotage, a quiet part of Jason murmured. He told it fiercely to shut its mouth. 

As smart as Damian was, he wasn’t entirely right about Crime Alley being clean. Jason knew there was a deal going on outside one of the dirtier bars, and he wanted to supervise. He had a sneaking suspicion his biggest rule was going to get broken, and he wanted to be there when it did.

Moving through Crime Alley was easy. Jason had been doing it all his life, so it was almost second nature at this point. It didn’t take much brain power to navigate the alleys, so most of his thought was stuck on his injury. It was still bleeding, trails of warm, sticky blood tracking down his side. His shirt was definitely soaked in it by now – he could feel it clinging to his skin. Fire was licking up his side. Every time he moved, it felt like the bullet between his ribs shifted.

It’s fine, Jason told himself. I can deal with this when I’m done.

You’re killing yourself, that tiny part whispered again. Jason ignored it.

He settled on the rooftop of one of the buildings that made up a wall of the alley, his legs hanging over the edge, and looked down. The alley was empty, but Jason wasn’t surprised. The deal wasn’t supposed to start for another few minutes. 

Jason blinked. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, there were people in the alley.

Confusion budded in his stomach. He’d gotten here early, he knew he did. But a blink was all it took for these guys to get here? And– now that Jason was thinking about it, he’d never even heard them. 

Unease swelled, but Jason didn’t focus on it. There was a drug deal going on in his turf, he needed to make sure they were following his rules. 

For nearly forty minutes, the dealers deliberated back and forth with each other. Their voices rose and dropped as they argued. Jason bit his lip to keep from making any scathing remarks. The longer they talked, the more his side burned. Jason wanted to drop into the alley and kill all four of them. He wanted to dig this bullet out of his ribs. He wanted to go home. 

One of the dealers threw up his hand. “We ain’t getting anywhere,” he said brusquely. “Let’s just get outta here.”

His buddy sniffed haughtily. “They probably don’t have any good shit anyway.”

One of the others scoffed. “And you probably don’t have the money.”

The one that sniffed paused mid-step, the muscles in his back shifting. Jason sighed to himself. There was definitely going to be a fight. Was he going to drop in and deal with it, or let them figure it out themselves?

“Dude, let’s just go,” the first one said, shaking his head. “We’re in Crime Alley. We might not be breaking any rules, but I don’t wanna wait around for Hood to show up.”

Good choice, Jason thought. He was about ready to put bullets in their skulls so he could go home. Irritation was spreading with the fire over his skin. 

The fourth one, quiet up until now, shrugged. “We got some’a Scarecrow’s stuff,” he said, easily. Nonchalantly, like he wasn’t carrying around a Rogue’s hallucinogenic. “Real diluted, but still gives you that…” the dealer paused and cocked his head, like he was looking for the right word. Eventually he settled on, “Rush.”

The first one bit his lip, eyes roaming the fourth one. Jason knew what he was doing – trying to guess which pocket the toxin was in. “How much?”

The fourth one shrugged again. “5k, I’d say.” 

Jason nearly scoffed. Five thousand, for Scarecrow’s toxin? That’s a low-ball amount. “What are you playing at?” Jason murmured to himself, pulling his feet up to perch on his toes. He ignored how Bat-like he probably looked, focusing closely on the fourth one. 

The second one laughed, loud and long. “5k?” he asked incredulously, wiping at the corner of his eye. Dramatics. “For fear toxin? What’s wrong with it?”

“Like I said.” The fourth one reached into his pocket and drew out a vial of smoke. It was a very, very light red. Diluted, just like he’d said. “It’s diluted. Not pure at all, but the work it took to get it….well.” The other two shared a look. The fourth one’s friend crossed his arms, lip curled. “I only have the one vial, but there’s a–” He paused, wrapping his fingers around the vial. Jason dropped back on the roof as the dealer tilted his head back. 

Fuck, Jason thought, shaking his head. ‘Course he’d look around first, Jason, Christ. It was only by the grace of some higher power that the guy hadn’t seen him. But dropping down so quickly had shifted the bullet in his ribs. It was smarting now, harsher than the burn it had been. A little longer, Todd, he told himself, clenching his teeth. Get the info.

“Paranoid, Miller?” the second guy asked. 

“Righty so,” Miller replied, pocketing the vial again. “We’re in Crime Alley. Had to make sure Hood wasn’t nearby.” Jason nearly laughed. He was nearby, alright. “We have more. There’s an old warehouse down by the docks. An old Scarecrow lab, I guess. He left behind a good amount of the stuff. Me and my boys have, ehhh….” Miller grinned. “Repurposed it, you could say.”

There it was. Drug rings were a no-go. Time for an entrance, Jason thought. He rose to his feet, pushing the furious, bleeding wound to the back of his mind. With ease, he swung himself onto the fire escape and then dropped the last few feet to the ground. The drop jarred his side, and Jaosn had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. “Evening boys,” he said, once he was sure his voice wouldn’t sound choked. He yanked his gun from its holster. “A drug ring, you say?”

Dealing with the four dealers was easy. They never really saw it coming. 

Jason wrinkled his nose at the metallic smell of blood, stooping down to take the vial of fear toxin from Miller’s pocket. As he bent over, agony lit like sparks, digging between his ribs and spiking into his lungs. Jason stumbled as his legs gave out. He crashed to the ground, joining the bodies of the dealers.

“Fuck,” he said. It came embarrassingly close to a whisper. Something was coating the back of his throat. Jason tried to pull his arms under his chest so he could push himself up, but they weren’t responding. “Fuck!”

Jason was so fucked.

It wasn’t fire anymore. It was lava now, molten rock sliding between his ribs and into his stomach. He couldn’t feel his legs. Or his arms. All Jason could feel was the visceral, burning pain in his torso. 

He couldn’t see. Black spots swallowed his vision. 

Footsteps echoed on the stones, quick ones. Jason had just enough time to realize he was dying before his brain disconnected.