Chapter Text
Jason really hates the snow.
When he was a tiny Robin, in Dick’s hand-me-down costume, any patrol that had snow on the ground would be freezing. Before he graduated to the yellow cape, scaly panties, and green pixie boots, Jason was homeless for a year and a half, so he wasn’t a stranger to being cold. Still, he’s surprised the years of snow patrols didn’t eventually end in frostbite. At least the new Robin has pants.
A flicker of anger sparks when he thinks of Replacement, but it burns out as quickly as it appears. Jason doesn’t waste energy thinking about the Bats. He has a life to live, and that life doesn’t include anyone associated with Batman.
After Jason was beaten to an inch of his life with a crowbar, killed by a bomb, revived to crawl out of his own grave, kidnapped by the League of Assassins, drowned repeatedly in a Lazarus Pit when he was disobedient, and tortured under the brutal hands of Ra’s al Ghul for what felt like decades (Jason is pretty sure time manipulation is one of Ra’s al Ghul’s hidden skills), after all of that, Jason was angry, vengeful, and fueled by Pit Rage to burn Gotham to the ground and slaughter everyone associated with Batman in the most dramatic way possible. Jason was beyond pissed, but more than that, he was exhausted. So instead of burning Gotham to ashes, he left Jason Todd dead and buried, and created a new persona: Red Hood.
It didn’t take long for Red Hood to gain a reputation. He used brute force to topple the current Crime Lord controlling Crime Alley, and secure that territory as his own. He gained Black Mask as an enemy, but after fighting the man’s entire cartel and living to tell about it, Jason was the most feared Crime Lord in all of Gotham. As Gotham’s top Crime Lord, at first, Red Hood was seen by his competition as a merciless psychopath, that shot to kill, and collected mob bosses severed heads in a duffle bag. But as Hood sweated the toxins of the Lazarus Pit and Assassin training out of his system, he started to carve out a very specific reputation. Red Hood was brutal, but only against people that messed with kids or the working girls. He protects those two populations with the intensity of a rabid dog. If you’re a criminal that doesn’t cross that line, you’ll most likely end up with a painful beating, courtesy of Hood’s tire iron, his desired weapon of choice, but he won’t kill you.
Overall, Jason was living his best life. He was protecting the people that mattered the most to him. The people that GCPD and the Bats thought weren’t worth the time or effort to defend. Occasionally Batman and his little birds would venture too close to Red Hood’s territory, and he would have to give them a warning shot to stay the hell away.
Every so often, one of the birdbrains gets an itch to actually fight the big bad Crime Lord. Hood always ditches his Bat fighting style, and relies on his Assassins League training (or just straight up street fighting). He doesn’t want his former family to recognize his Bat fighting style. That will definitely end with Dick or Bruce going wide-eyed, and cooing that Little Wing was back. Jason would much rather take an electrified Escrima stick to the ribs over getting wrestled into a crushing bear hug from Dickhead. Jason has never fought Replacement – the kid is smart enough to stay away – but he’s pretty sure the little guy wouldn’t be able to ID Hood as Jason after a fight. The kid is rumored to be some kind of genius, and Jason doesn’t doubt it. The Replacement is the only one that’s smart enough to stay away from Hood, which easily qualifies him as the smartest Bat.
Jason shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to waste any more time thinking about the Bats. He’s not sure why he even started thinking about them in the first place. It’s been a long night of patrolling. His body is sore, his reflexes are shot, and he just needs to collapse on his nice warm bed.
He glances at the red traffic light and starts to cross the street. He’s in one of the more deserted sections of Crime Alley, and even if there were businesses in this part of town, instead of boarded up windows, they’d be closed at this hour. The dim red shine of the traffic light and the even dimmer streetlamp are the only sources of light, but the snow on the ground surrounds everything in an eerie sort of light.
Hood is halfway across the crosswalk when he hears the unmistakable sound of tires skidding. He has just enough time to drop his shoulder so that when the car hits him, he rolls onto the hood instead of being launched forward. That move saves him from a few broken bones.
He slams full speed into the windshield. It doesn’t break, but his body causes a spiderweb crack on the passenger’s side, before he’s thrown off the car and onto the snowy street. Hood’s helmet protects his skull more than the blanket of snow when his head slams against the pavement. He lands on his side, and his shoulder takes the most impact from the fall. He feels his shoulder dislocate on impact, and growls at the spike of intense pain that shoots from his shoulder.
Between the concussion and the busted arm, Jason knows that he’s helpless, laying there in the snow. He tries to reach for his gun with his non-dislocated arm, but he can’t move. His vision is blurry, and his ankle is starting to join the pain party.
His only thought is, God, Roy and Kori are never gonna let me live this down. The Red Hood, taken down by a fucking Prius.
His ears are ringing, and his left ear is slightly deaf after being blown up, so it’s not the clearest sound in the world, but he swears he can hear a guy with a thick Gothamite accent yell, “I aint got time for this shit,” before the sound of skidding wheels.
Great. Jason isn’t even going to have the satisfaction of shooting the jerk in the head. With rubber bullets of course. Red Hood hasn’t actually killed anyone in over a year. He has a sign that he stole from his day job at the autobody shop that says ‘ __ days without an accident.’ He crossed off the words an accident and changed it to killing someone. He’s on day 372. He deserves a medal for that level of restraint. Especially tonight.
Hopefully, his helmet cam got the license plate. Tonight, might be the end of the streak.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” a tiny voice says. “Are you –? Are you alright? I’m so so sorry. This sucks so bad.”
Jason’s helmet doesn’t have the best peripheral vision, but a blurry Tim Drake is kneeling on the snow and babbling on about how sorry he is and how being hit by a car sucks.
Replacement whimpers. Literally whimpers and Jason is fuming.
Seriously? I know that Bats doesn’t mind sending out child soldiers in his war on Gotham, but this kid is like ten!
The kid regains his composure, but his voice is shaking.
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“No cops,” Jason grunts, trying to make his voice as threatening as he can through the voice distorter of the helmet.
“An ambulance isn’t the police,” the kid starts to say, but Jason growls and the kid shuts up.
There aren’t any cars coming, but Jason still feels too vulnerable and helpless in the middle of the street, so he starts to sit up. He’s favoring his right side, and Replacement takes the hint and helps him sit up, staying away from Jason’s dislocated shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” the kid asks.
“No, Replacement. I got hit by a fuckin’ car, but I just roll shit like that off.”
The kid flinches and says softly, “Batman told me the Red Hood knows our civilian identities, but I was kinda hoping he was wrong.” The kid straightens up, puffs out his chest and says, “I’m sorry I hit you with my car.”
“You weren’t driving,” Jason grunts, as he maneuvers to his knees. He’s halfway to standing, but also halfway to falling back onto the snow.
“I was the driver, Hood. I would like you to direct all violence to me.”
“You’re ten years old, Baby Bird. You probably can’t even see over the steering wheel.”
“I’m sixteen,” the kid pouts.
“Bullshit. You’re twelve max.”
“I’m thirteen,” the kid says defeatedly. “I’m also the driver. If you want to punch someone, hit me.”
“If I somehow believe you’re a thirteen-year-old Uber driver, which I don’t, then who drove the car away?” Silence. “Yup, that’s what I thought. You’re either covering for your dad or the real Uber driver.”
The kid opens his mouth and then sighs, lowering his shoulders in defeat. “Uber driver,” he concedes, but adds, “I’m going to give him a one-star rating. I’ll also send the police the red-light camera footage. I wasn’t going to let him get away with hitting you. I promise. I just figured that since you don’t kill kids, that maybe if I took the blame, you would beat me up for a while, and it wouldn’t end your not killing streak.”
Hood successfully rises to his feet, with a little assistance from the kid. Hood shifts his weight to the leg that doesn’t have a throbbing ankle attached. He looks down at the Replacement. The kid is looking up at him, braced for some kind of beatdown.
“Look, kid, I don’t kill kids, but I don’t beat them up either.” He flicks the kid on the head to emphasize his point.
“Ow,” the tiny Replacement pouts.
“Now go away before I call your Batdad and tell him you’re up way past your birdie bedtime.”
The little birdie blushes.
“Um, my ride was a hit and run driver and I’ll probably have to wait another hour before another car will agree to pick me up in this part of town.” He holds up his hands. “Not that this isn’t a beautiful part of town. You’ve done an amazing job making Crime Alley a really great place to live.”
Hood rolls his eyes even though the kid can’t see it hidden under the helmet.
“It’s a dumb idea, and I acknowledge this before I’m even saying it, but you can crash at my place for the night, kid.”
The kid’s face lights up. Jason can’t believe this little one is so excited to spend the night with a Crime Lord. If Jason didn’t want to put a bullet through Batman’s head before, he really wants to do it now. What is Batman doing? Doesn’t he teach them any self-preservation skills?!
The trusting birdie (more like sitting duck) wraps one arm around Jason’s waist. Jason instinctively jerks away from the hug, but the kid says, “You can lean some of your weight on me until we get there. I saw that you didn’t put any weight on your right ankle. If it’s broken, you probably shouldn’t walk on it.”
Jason pushes Tim away, because he does not want to be pitied. Especially by a Bat.
“Fuck off, Replacement. I’m fine. Just follow me,” he snaps.
And because Jason’s stubbornness rivals Batman’s, he limps without Replacement’s assistance.
The kid trails behind Jason like a little lost duckling and Jason tries his absolute hardest to stay mad at the kid, but it’s becoming impossible. Until the Pretender opens his mouth.
“Hood? Why do you call me Replacement?”
“Because that’s what you are,” Jason grumbles as they reach the end of the street. Jason has the light, and the white blinky WALK stick figure is blinking, and there’s absolutely no cars around, but he hesitates.
The kid takes Jason’s hand, and this time Jason doesn’t push him away. They cross the street and when they reach the other side Jason snatches his hand back. He puts as much Red Hoodiness into his voice.
“I’ve given all you Robins nicknames. The first one, Dickieboy is the Showoff. Jason’s the Dead One, and you’re the Replacement. And then there’s the little demon spawn that’s about to replace the Replacement.”
“Damian isn’t going to replace me,” Replacement says softly. His voice is even softer when he says. “Jason is not the Dead One. He’s the Tragic Hero. He was my Robin, and I won’t let you disrespect him.”
Jason pretends he doesn’t hear that, and keeps walking.
The kid breaks the silence again when he jogs next to Jason so that he isn’t trailing behind.
“I’m sorry you got hit by my Uber, but thanks for letting me stay at your place for the night. I owe you one. For real. If you need anything, just remember that I owe you a favor. You can call me.”
Hood offers a metallic snort as a response. There’s no universe in all of the multiverse that Jason would call on Replacement for a favor.
“I’m serious, Hood.”
“Fuck off. I don’t need your help, you little shit,” Jason growls.
They still hold hands every time they cross the street.
There’s no way Jason is ever, ever, going to call on the Replacement of all people for help. His daily routine includes actively avoiding Batman and his birdies. The only thing he’s going to do is let the kid stay the night so he doesn’t freeze to death, and then make breakfast before kicking the kid out.
Unfortunately, Jason forgot the number one rule: Don’t feed the birds.