"Nice to see you again. We'll be taking the kryptonite off your hands."

"Batman can have it. I've got what I came for."

"And what's that?"

Jason grinned behind his helmet and activated another set of machine guns. Nightwing flipped out of the way a little less gracefully than Jason was used to seeing, but he'd give Dickiebird a pass for his bum leg. Made his job easier anyways. It was pretty obvious Nightwing thought Red Hood was going to make his getaway, probably with some quip, as he dodged the gunfire. Which, to be fair, was the original plan, but opportunity was knocking and it'd just be rude to leave her out in the cold. Instead of escaping, he threw himself into Nightwing's personal space.

"It was just the lay of the land. But y'know I'm an ambitious sorta guy."

"Oh yeah?"

Three well-placed punches and Nightwing was out.

"Yeah."

He hefted Dick over his shoulder with a grunt. Dude was heavy, but not as heavy as he probably should have been. Now it was definitely time for Jason to exit stage right. Freeze looked like he'd had just about enough from Batman and it would defeat the entire purpose of, well, everything if he got himself caught by the Bat now.

"You can stop playing coy. You've been conscious for the last five minutes, pretty bird. I wanna see those baby blues."

Said baby blues fluttered open. Legit fluttered. Jesus.

"Last seven actually."

"Fat lot of good those extra two did ya."

"Hey, no need to be so grumpy. It's impressive you noticed at all."

Jason pretended to preen, ignoring his inner fourteen-year-old self who actually was preening because Nightwing had called him impressive.

"Glad you think so. Those knots are holding pretty well, huh?"

"The best. Give my regards to your teacher."

Jason snorted.

"Not on good terms?"

He leaned forward resting his arm on Dick's shoulder and leaned his face up close and personal with Dick's.

"You could say that."

His gloved fingers brushed against the vivid blue of Dick's collar bone. The older man froze for a half second, his breath stuttering before he could stop it. Jason frowned and closed his hand, but otherwise pretended not to notice. Oh so casually he pulled out of Dick's personal space.

"What," Dick's voice was quiet and strained. "What do you want?"

"Not that."

He'd done a lot of shitty things throughout his life. But there was a line. Jason narrowed his eyes. And anyone who crossed it was worse than dead. Even Bruce should have been able to understand that.

"You tell Batman about it?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Right."

Dick glared at him and Jason welcomed the anger. Anger he knew how to deal with. Anger was better.

"What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things, but first things first, Big Bird. Gotta make sure you don't have any tricks up your sleeves. The best way to do that? Take the sleeves, the boots, the whole kit and caboodle."

"All you gotta do is untie me and I'll be happy to help."

"Now, now. Lying's not very nice."

"Neither is murder."

"Killing. There's a difference and I suspect those dirt bags I put in the ground have a hell lot of victims that would disagree with you."

"How about those dirt bags' families?"

"Oh. You're good. Kinda thought that would shut you up but I guess the Bat's indoctrination really took."

"Can't answer the question?"

"Yeah I'm sure they'll cry about them. Maybe the kids'll have some daddy issues, mommy issues—I'm equal opportunity like that y'know—probably would have anyways. But eventually they'll realize they're better off without those toxic pieces of scum in their lives."

"That what you realized?"

"Oh no. You're not gonna psychoanalyze me."

"All right. How 'bout I just knock some sense into you instead?"

Nightwing lunged out of his chair. And dammit, dammit. Why'd he let him distract him like that? God, what a rookie move, letting the "hero" draw him into an argument while he worked on escaping. Luckily, Jason was prepared for keeping hostages calm and harmless, especially this hostage. If Dick had been in tip top shape, none of this would have worked. As it was, Jason ducked and dodged, grabbing a hold of the other's arm and twisting as he jammed a tranquilizer into his neck, the situation was plenty manageable. Dick grunted and went down, still conscious, but useless.

"You're good," Dick groaned.

Bruised and bloodied and completely at his mercy, Jason decided, pulling off his helmet and holding it under his arm while he looked down at the other man, was just how he liked Dick. Nabbing the first boy wonder had never really factored into the plan, but man, Jason really, really liked it. Talia had told him to take was most important. Sure she'd meant Gotham and yeah he was still taking that too, but what was more important to Batman than his precious golden boy? The man was probably already losing his shit. A nasty smirk curved Jason's mouth.

"As I was saying," he pulled out his knife and gave it a theatrical little twirl. "That outfit's gotta go."

Dick scoffed weakly, "But I've gotten so many nice compliments about it."

Jason crouched in front of him and placed his helmet on the floor, while Dick struggled to focus on him. He pulled the suit's collar away from Dick's neck and slipped the knife into the bit of space. The fabric split with almost no pressure. Geez, was it even bullet resistant?

"It's an improvement over the old one, I'll give you that."

For the love of—the suit was one piece apparently. Leave it to the circus freak to have a costume that required him to be super bendy just to get in and out of it. Whatever. He was going to cut all of it off anyways. Heh. This would be kinky if it weren't. Sorta came with the territory of being the boy hostage though. The dress-ups, especially, were always into the freaky stuff. Kinda desensitized a person to the strange and abnormal, so did digging your way out of your own grave. Or maybe that part was just insanity inducing. And that train of thought needed to be derailed immediately. Better to focus on removing Nightwing's sad excuse for a costume. It shredded so easily, Jason probably could have used a butter knife to cut it apart. With a blade so close, Dick didn't move much, which was almost disappointing. It would have been a good excuse for his knife to "slip" a little.

At least fly guy was wearing underwear. Jason had been a little worried he might not be. He wasn't really looking to get to know Dick that well and he could tell by just a glance that his limited wardrobe was too large for the other man. He yanked off Nightwing's boots then rolled him onto his stomach to pull off his ruined suit. He peeled the fabric away from his arms, exposing golden skin and pale scars.

"This a natural tan or do you like to hit up the salon?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Dick slurred, his cheek pressed against the cold, mostly smooth concrete of one of his many, many Gotham safe houses.

"Nah. Guy's gotta have a bit of mystery in his life."

"So I guess that's a no on sharing your secret identity."

"Smart and pretty. Aren't you the lucky one?"

"I think we have different definitions of lucky."

Jason shrugged, even though Dick was in no position to see him do so.

"Different definitions for justice too. Wanna talk about that some more now that you can't kick me in the face?"

"We…we can't cross that line. It's too easy. I don't…I don't want to cross it again."

"Bullshit. You…wait. Again?"

An ugly smile twisted Jason's face. He tugged at the fabric around Dick's midsection, loosening it.

"You telling me that Batman's golden boy killed someone?"

Dick didn't say anything.

"Oh don't get stingy with me now. Who was it? Anybody I know?"

He definitely needed to get this story of Dick. It was probably pathetic, more a failure to save some scumbag who didn't deserve saving in the first place than actually killing someone, but Jason would get his kicks where he could get them. Except…Jason stared at Dick's lower back. Huh.

"Daddy know you got a tramp stamp?"

"Shut up."

There was a pair of silhouettes, maybe two or three inches in length, of a man and a woman with their arms outstretched and hands clasped and falling downward. A little above them was a small robin in flight, spread wings tipped green and its little breast bright red. Jason was touching it before he'd even realized he'd reached out.

"They mean something?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Dick was quiet for a moment, "They're memorials."

"Who's the bird?"

He wanted to hear it, needed to hear it.

"My brother," barely more than a whisper but it might as well have been a shout, a scream.

"He died huh?"

His mouth was moving, but Jason felt separated from his body, staring at Dick's tattoos. Guilt, especially survivor's guilt, was a bat family tradition but these memorials were painted into Dick with blood and pain and ink and they were beautiful, stark and vibrant on his flesh. He wanted to touch them with bared hands, trace each line with his fingertips. Put his lips on them. Jason recoiled and jerked to his feet.

"We're done here."

Grabbing Nightwing was stupid. Stupid. Dick was messed up enough, obviously, and Batman didn't need more incentive to find him, to figure out his identity. So he fled. The sedative would wear off on its own. He had plenty of safe houses. He didn't need Nightwing to accomplish what his goals. He didn't want Nightwing to accomplish his goals. He didn't. He didn't. He didn't.