[debut] batman and robin must die: the robin and the hood

[aworthyone]

He's said he's different. That he's not like the other Robins. Damian Wayne was raised by assassins, criminals, and as such, was taught to kill without mercy. Despite the promises he's made -- despite the promises he's kept -- not for one second would he hesitate to inflict severe brain damage upon one of his father's rogues, and the Joker is

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[prodigaljaybird]

Sometimes, Jason thinks the only people who visit the graveyard more often than he does are the dead. He's come here daily since his second burial, for a while visiting the place more often than his own girlfriend, though that balance has at last begun to shift. Most days, he sits in silence on his headstone and stares at the ground. The soil there has finally resettled, smooth and neat with sparse grass reaching upwards through the dirt. It doesn't look fresh anymore, and Jason feels better for every blade that pops through

[aworthyone]

The face is younger than the last time Damian laid eyes on it, smoother. The hair is darker. The expression, though, that stays the same: twisted with an anger far too big for one person to carry. Jason Todd, the Red Hood. Escaped from Arkham, apparently, though how remains a question best left asked later

[prodigaljaybird]

It's like something from a nightmare, and Jason would know. Robin lurches like a thing undead, pushing Jason another step back until he sees the ropes binding the tiny frame. He presses his heels hard to the earth against an near overwhelming urge to run and makes himself look.

Wide pink smile beneath a domino, something - tape? - beneath, and that ridiculous nose. "Are you his?" Jason asks, voice fluttering out of him like something wild. Does the Joker have sidekicks now? It's horrifying, unthinkable, everything in which the Joker would delight, and Jason sticks his hand out. Ripping that tape away will be a mistake, he knows, but he wants an answer. "Who are you?"

[aworthyone]

It's only to get the blasted tape off that he allows Todd to come so close, and Damian sucks in a deep breath the moment his mouth is free, then briefly ducks his face into his shoulder to knock away the nose, letting it fall in the grass. Were he in a better position to do so, he would crush the infernal thing with his boot, but as it is, it's enough of a struggle just to keep upright. Freeing his legs is his first priority. Petty revenges can come second.

"Tt. Who do you think I am?" demands Damian, his voice hoarse from yelling and grogginess both. None of this makes sense, not the question or the way Todd looks as though he's just seen a ghost, and especially not the almost cheerful green of a graveyard far from Gotham. "How did you get out? Where are we?"