Chapter Text
The dead lived once, and the living will be dead.
But that does not mean that they will think and act the same. According to the research of Kolian the Wise from the Karian tribe in sector XY-8630.
Those who knew life in one of the realms tend to develop some characteristics from those days in an exponential way.
Those characteristics are the one truer to the soul that took an important part as to make them who they are. Even if from their living days, those had been repressed and barely displayed. Because in death, there is no need for disguise. Everyone became who they were meant to be.
(Quote from: 'The Great Guide of The Infinite Realms and her inhabitants' Chapter 1256: "The dead")
"He is out of control Dick! You know it. We tried. But this... I can't tolerate it."
Growels Bruce as he works on the computer.
Standing by his side, Dick takes a few deep breaths trying to keep his temper under control.
Fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. He couldn't afford to make a scene here and now in front of all the others. Especially considering everything that was happening.
"I know. And I am not asking you to let him do whatever the hell he wants, but you can't do that to him. You can't just throw him into isolation containment at Belle Reve. He is your son!"
"And Tim is too!"
Angrily answer Bruce, standing up and shoving his chair aside. Silence follows his statement as everyone quieted down in the cave, all eyes on them. Not that Dick deluded himself into thinking they stopped listening one second.
"He nearly killed Tim. We would have a corpse now if Cassandra didn't get him. And she was there by sheer dumb luck. I am not putting any of your life on luck only! I let him have his way in Crime Alley. I overlooked the murders and the threat against your siblings if they so much approached the place. But he crossed the line . Did you see the files?"
Gritting his teeth at the condescending tone, Dick nodded fists clenched again, unable to open them.
"Did you really ?"
Insists Bruce as he opens them on the BatComputer for everyone to see and witness.
"We are talking about torture and mutilation of people all around Gotham. Without forgetting the kidnapping, assault, blackmail, abuse, suicide inducement, and I pass. He has no limits!"
He knew that he knew it. Glancing to the side, his gaze caught Tim's numb one, still pale from what happened some hours ago, bruises blooming on his body, bandages all around his ribs as Alfred continues to put some stitches, lips thin and turned down.
Both Steph and Cass stood by his sides as if to protect him from a danger lurking in the dark. Duke nervously shifted in his seat, putting some space for a scowling Damian sharpening his katana. Even if he had been doing it for the last hour, clearly affected by what just happened.
It was such a mess.
How did things get this far and this bad?
Of course, there have already been threats and beatings. He wasn't going to pretend that their relationship was all pink and glitter.
But it never had been like that. He never outright tried to kill them. Usually, he always had this, this playful side to him. As if all of it was just one big game or a joke they didn't know about.
But today, he wanted him dead. Dick was sure of it. Recalling how Red Hood stood above them as he ran to the unconscious form of his little brother.
"From today on, Red Hood is considered a high-profile risk. You are not to approach him alone, and his capture is our priority."
Finish coldly Bruce, turning back to the computer, effectively ending all conversation.
Shutting down the alarm on his phone, Duke stays motionless in his bed. Burying his face deeper into the pillow. After a few minutes, he finally moved, dread crawling.
The mood at the Manor had been so suffocating those last few days.
A new drug had hit the street a month ago. What they all thought to be just a reinvention of JK-562, more commonly called Pixie Dust, turned out to be something else altogether. Even with their best effort, they weren't able to shut it down.
Until Barbara found out from Red Hood's confiscated note that he already faced them in the past and wiped them.
This is how a discussion of maybe using his help to solve the case came up. To try and reinsert him after a little more than a year passed in BelleReve.
Without great surprise, it didn't go well.
Tim had been in a foul mood, bitter over the fact that he couldn't solve the case himself and that they needed Red Hood's help.
Steph and Cass kept patrolling Crime Alley and Diamond District, where there had been the most victim, both refusing to talk to Dick and Bruce to an extent.
Who had this energy around them of squashed hope to see Jason back. And Damian looked at everyone with that scowl only he was capable of, disapproving of the situation. His opinion of Jason had been made a long time. Duke suspects even before he came to Gotham.
Even Alfred had been polishing the same set of cutlery for the past few days.
As for him, he didn't exactly know what he felt.
On one side Red Hood hurt the people that mattered to him (his family) so many times, nearly killing them.
A ghost whose name was barely whispered, be it between them or the hero community. The only time anyone would bring him up was to warn new recruits of the danger of the job. And to show how things could turn bad, really bad.
But on the other hand, Jason had always been that little support from afar when things were just not working, and he didn't know to whom to turn to.
His door had always been open.
Never judging, always listening with those tired blue/green eyes that seemed to see something from beyond.
Eyes, that when he used his power, looked like two bright green stars. Sucking all the light near him.
He remembers when once, after a rough couple of weeks. Between his parents that didn't seem to get any better, Joker on the run, and his girlfriend breaking up with him because he wasn't able to keep up his promises, he found himself at his door.
Babbling on about a stupid essay he had to do for school if he didn't want to fail the subject, but that just didn't want to compute in his mind.
Tears in his eyes, feeling so pathetic and worthless.
Jason didn't say anything. Got him seated on the comfiest sofa he ever felt and came back with a glass of milk and a strawberries chocolate cake that he made the night before.
It tasted divine and made him laugh so hard that the tears ended up splashing on top of the piece of cake. Who could have imagined that the great bad Red Hood could cook such a good cake? Not him. He doesn't think anyone would have guessed it. Apart maybe from Alfred and his almighty power of knowing everything.
In the end, they worked together for the following two weeks. Reviewed the whole program. Everything seemed clearer.
One afternoon as he finished writing the essay, Jason apologized for what he lacked at certain moments.
"Ain't too sure about everything. May have missed some point 'cause didn't get to finish."
He told him, his voice low as he fiddled with the pen in front of him. And it kind of hit him.
When he had been his age, Jason already died and got buried.
Buried.
The vision of what it could have been to wake up in a box, in the dark alone with no sounds and no light. Not enough oxygen. That after a moment of panic, he started to pound on the hard and expensive wood of the casket. Trying to get out as earth and dirt fell on his face suffocating him. Broken fingers and nails digging, digging, and digging.
He thinks he would have thrown up at that moment if it hadn't been time for him to leave. One last look at that lonely man, fighting against everyone and everything.
He got an A+. He had been so proud of it that he ran the same day all the way to Jason's flat. Entering the place as if he owned it, only to stop short to see it abandoned.
That afternoon he learned that he and Bruce had an altercation.
It ended badly. Bruce had to stay for two weeks in bed, and no one heard anything from Jason for at least three months.
Then he came back like a tornado, all anger and smoke. And something had changed. He is sure.
Gone were the gentle gestures, the playful chase, and the occasional team-up.
All that was left were rumors of this ruthless killer feared and dreaded in Gotham and beyond her border.
Red Hood.