Hey, hey, hey! I'm back! It's been a while, right?
So I decided to have this story beta-read, and boy was I glad! Having someone really critique this tale has made it better than its hideous first draft. So, everyone, give a big round of applause to Tucker's Mayflower!

I've had this idea in mind for some time, but now is the time to tell it. So, without further ado, enjoy!

Black Butler
The Butler, Vengeful

Whack. Thud. Whack.

The sounds of metal hitting flesh echoed slightly through the large warehouse. Robin felt the cold through his skin as his costume was torn away by the crowbar.

"Tell me, which hurts more?" asked the man who kept hitting him, white face, red lips, insane expression. A wide smile that bespoke of madness. "A?" He swung the crowbar across his face. "Or B?" He backhanded.

Jason Todd had experienced pain before. He had been abused by his mother, beaten up by the other kids in the Juvenile Rehab program. He had been driven past his limits being trained by the Batman.

But nothing compared to this. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

The mother whom he had still loved despite her abuse had betrayed him. She had betrayed him before he was even born. His whole life had been just a game, a play by the Joker to bring the ultimate blow to Batman.

Batman needs a Robin. So when you take Robin out of the equation... you hurt Batman. Simple logic. And when applied to real life, sick and twisted.

But that was the Joker for you.

"I'm impressed," he said, his smile in Jason's face. "You've lasted a lot longer than I expected. Actually, I had a bet with your dear old mum... she didn't have a very high opinion of you. Ooh. Sorry. Too soon?"

Jason spat blood in Joker's face.

His head slammed into the concrete as Joker stepped on it.

"Now that was rude!" he said, taking out a handkerchief, wiping his face delicately. "At least the first Boy Blunder had some manners!"

Jason gave the Joker a grin, revealing some of his missing teeth.

"I guess I'll have to give you some lessons."

Whack. Thud. Whack.

Jason finally cried out as the curved edge of the crowbar cut into his side, stabbing itself into his flesh. Joker tugged on it, finding that it was stuck.

"Oops," he giggled. "Never done that before!"

He yanked it out, taking a lot of Jason's gore with it. He heard the sickening splatter on the concrete as a lot of what used to be inside of his body left him. Cold air entered his chest from the gaping wound. His breath came in sharp gasps, the pain stopping him from filling his lungs. He was pretty sure his lung was punctured, as well as several broken ribs.

Lying in a haze of pain, his half-conscious thought was that Alfred would have a tough time patching him up. He wouldn't be able to go on patrol for months after this.

And then it dawned on him. He wasn't going to get out of this. He was actually going to die.

He thought about his life, and what he'd done up till now. He had stolen the tires off of the Batmobile. That introduction had ended with him becoming Robin. As Jason Todd, he had become Bruce Wayne's new ward, adopted brother of Dick Grayson. Jason never really liked him. He was too cheerful.

The only person he had really connected with was Alfred. The butler had always been available, always ready to listen to a youngster's griping, always on hand with friendly advice. He had been able to make Jason laugh. He had been his only friend.

And now Jason was going to die. And he kept thinking about what Alfred would think. The butler always had to expect that his masters would not come back from their adventures. When they did, his relief was evident. When either of them had been injured, he recommended bed rest immediately. And whenever the Bat Signal shone in the dark sky, he always sighed, resigned to the fact that this was their lives.

And now, it was Robin's death.

Whack. Thud. Whack.

He could tell he had more broken bones than whole. His breath came sharply through his mouth and his side, his lung inflating and deflating unevenly, the air hitching as it entered and escaped. It seemed almost impossible that he lasted this long.

Suddenly he became aware that there were no more blows, no more cold steel made warm by his blood. He tried to look up.

"I'll give you this much, most folks'd be begging me to end it at this point," Joker said, frowning slightly. "You've got guts, even if they're spilled out all over this floor." He gave a short laugh.

"You're lucky I'm in a hurry, otherwise we'd continue our little one-on-one, but I gotta dash."

He started to walk away, leaving Jason gasping for breath on the floor. When he reached the door, he paused.

"Tell Batman I said hello," he said, and left.

And then it was over. The beating, the merciless cruelty... it was over.

The pain wasn't. And the pain, as Bruce had taught him, says the fight isn't over either.

Jason lay there, panting, his breath echoing in the silence. He pulled his legs up, fighting past the pain to bring his hands in front of him.

Slowly, laboriously, he began to crawl, dragging himself toward the door the Joker had just gone through. Blood painted itself in a line on the floor as he smeared it from his chest and limbs.

When he finally reached the door, he stretched up, grasping the handle. He didn't turn it so much as pull it down.

It budged slightly, and then stayed put. It was locked.

He put more weight behind it, hoping that it had just caught on the way down. It remained stubbornly in place.

He began to panic, grasping for the handle as his hands slipped from it, wet with his blood. His side prevented him from using both hands properly, but even so, he knew deep down it was hopeless.

If he still had his belt, he could have picked the lock. But that had been taken from him.

He stopped, sliding down the door a little, tears springing to his eyes. Through his heavy gasping, his swollen ears detected a small beeping noise. He blinked through the tears and blood, trying to see what was the source of the noise. A fair-sized shape, like a box, red lights, numbers...

A bomb. Of course. There had been no hope the Joker would leave him alive. No hope, no chance.

Jason closed his eyes, resigned to his fate, even though his hatred burned strong inside of him.

3... 2... 1.

Nothing happened.

Jason opened his eye, the left one still closed and bruised. He looked around.

The room was dark. He was still slumped up against the door, but black was all he could see in front of him. He blinked. Nothing changed.

"Am I dead?" he asked aloud. He jumped as a voice answered him.

"No, but I believe you are closer to death than to life," came a voice from the darkness, smooth, British, and clear. "Not a desirable state for humans, much less for one of your youth."

"Who are you?" Jason called, coughing up blood. His throat felt constricted. "Why can't I see anything?"

"Because you've reached a turning point," the voice replied. "At this moment, you decide how your life will continue."

"I thought I was going to die," Jason said, starting to gasp for breath.

"So you are," the voice said. "You will die. Or you will be saved. Either way, you live."

"How?" was all Jason could manage now.

"If you die here, you will be resurrected," the voice explained. "However, if you do, you will never be able to take revenge, on either the Joker or Batman."

"Bat... man?" Jason choked, spitting out the blood that filled his mouth. The voice sighed.

"That is fate, or your destiny," it said. "In fact, you will confront and join both, but you will never kill either of them. And don't bother trying to think nobly, that you'd never do anything like that. Because we both know in your heart that you despise one, and hate the other."

Jason thought about this. He had always resented that Batman kept restraining him, and he wondered why the Dark Knight hadn't saved him. Why he didn't come.

Maybe... just maybe... if he had killed the Joker before, this wouldn't have happened to Jason.

And now he knew what the voice was taking about. And if there was some chance of survival, some chance to get back at the world...

The next few words gave him pause, however.

"If you live, however, I will assist you in this revenge. I will have saved you and served you. In return, I get your soul. There is no hope for you in Paradise after this."

Jason thought about this, trying to comprehend what he'd just heard. Ultimately, though, his final decision was that there was no place for him in... Paradise. The very word was unfamiliar.

"You're running out of time. Even now, in this freeze-frame of your last moment, you are slipping away."

A hand appeared from the darkness. It was pale, with black nails.

Jason raised his own hand, slowly, tremulously. He grabbed hold.

Instantly, he felt immense pain. Everywhere he had been beaten seemed to become on fire. He grasped onto the hand with all of his strength.

He felt his suit get ripped from his chest, and where his R symbol had been, a burning, like a brand, commenced. He screamed with pain.

But it was deeper than just his flesh. He felt the burn on his very soul. And from that moment on, he was marked.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the enamel break from the pressure and instantly heal. He would get through this. He would become strong.

After an eternity, it was over.

Jason looked down at himself. He was standing, his entire body healed. His Robin uniform was ripped and frayed, and on his left pectoral, where the R symbol had once been, a strange circle was burned into his skin. It was covered with strange words, written in a language he didn't understand.

"It's Latin, by the way," the voice said. He looked up. The darkness was still there. "It's the mark of the contract you've made with me."

"Contract?" Jason repeated. "Who are you?"

The voice chuckled.

"You will learn more about me after a while, but for now, you only need to know this..."

A soft tap was heard, followed by another. Jason registered this as footsteps. From the darkness came a tall figure, slender and graceful, dressed in what Jason recognized as a servant's uniform, with white gloves and black hair that fell in his face.

"...I'm one hell of a butler."

He bowed. Jason nodded.

A butler, useful and competent, anything like Alfred, was just what he needed right now.

"Shall we depart, young master?" the butler asked, looking around. "Soon the freeze-frame will end, and I don't believe we want to linger here much longer."

Jason nodded again, not able to find the words, still trying to come to terms with what he had just done.

The butler took Jason's hand. In an instant, the darkness disappeared, and the warehouse returned to color.

One... zero.

Batman raced to the warehouse, blinking out the snow that fell in his eyes.

So close... so close...

He had thought that Jason had merely tried to prove himself. But after interrogating Harley Quinn, he had learned about the boy's mother.

Now he understood. Now he realized how much he had taught Robin... and how much he had learned.

The boy wasn't being stupid, or reckless... he was being a true hero. He just wasn't ready.

Batman would never be ready for what happened next.

The apparently abandoned warehouse exploded in front of him.

There was no sound, although Batman knew his hearing was being deafened. The light didn't seem all that big, even though his sub-conscious told him he'd go blind from staring at it.

The heat wave hit him, and he ducked as large pieces of shrapnel came flying to meet him. He lost balance, and threw himself off of the Bat-Cycle, rolling in the snow, coming to a stop on one knee.

"JASON!"
The cry, wrenched from his lips, was the only instance in the Dark Knight's life that he ever showed negative emotion other than anger. A deep grief ripped through him.

For the first time ever... he had lost.

"What's your name?"

The butler looked at Jason.

"My former master saw fit to call me Sebastian," he answered perfunctory.

Jason considered this.

"Works for me," he said finally. "I'm Jason Todd."

"Pleasure to meet you, young master."

Jason looked around at the flames, seeing the destruction around them, swirling, beautiful. They never touched the two.

Had he looked beyond the wall of fire, he would have seen Batman mourning in the snow. Had he seen that, he might have felt a twinge of pity, of doubt.

As it was, all he could think of now was how he'd take his revenge. With this butler at his side, he felt like he could do anything.

"What is your command, young master?" Sebastian asked. Jason, who had begun to shiver in the snow, looked up.

"How fast can you travel?" he asked, recalling Superman's speed. Sebastian smiled.

"As fast as you can order me," he responded.

"Good," Jason said. "I'm getting cold."

Batman walked among the ashes, searching for any sign of Jason, anything at all.

All he ever found was the top of his Robin suit, the symbol blackened and burned, with his blood all over the place. His clutched it to his chest, the tears falling down his face, burning his freezing face.

His head jerked up, a snarl on his lips.

"JOKER!" he roared.

Sebastian awaited his master.

He had taken the two of them to Herrod's in London. Due the nature of his master's apparent impatience, the trip had taken literally no time at all.

The boy was no Ciel Phantomhive, that much was certain.

Jason Todd was just another traumatized teenage boy with a troubled past and an untimely end.

The only thing that had attracted Sebastian's attention was that this particular boy had been trained by the Batman.

Bruce Wayne had been watched from an early age. Sebastian had been able to tell that the boy would become quite like his former master had been. Over one hundred years had Sebastian waited for someone to even measure up to his former master. No one had.

And then Thomas and Martha Wayne had been shot and killed.

This time, however, Sebastian was not to have his way. The boy already had a butler. He already had someone to turn to.

And before too long, the boy had become a man. And the Dark Knight was born.

Sebastian had bided his time. Just because he had grown up didn't mean his soul wasn't ripe for the picking.

And then he trained Jason Todd.

Sebastian had decided to pass up on Richard Grayson. The first Boy Wonder wasn't broken in the same way that Jason and Batman were. Batman had reforged himself.

Jason was an open book, on the other hand.

Granted, he was no Bruce Wayne, but he would do. It was time for his appetite to be slaked somewhat.

Jason pulled on a white shirt, slowly letting the soft fabric running across his unbroken skin.

Even his scars from earlier battles were gone. Everything was healed. Everything.

The price was a steep one to pay, though.

His very soul... he had never really thought about that before. What would have happened to him if he had died? Where would his soul have gone? Bruce hadn't really covered theology in his education. Was there a heaven?

Did this being prove the existence of a hell?

So many questions filled Jason's head. And he was determined to ask the demon all of them.

"Are you ready, young master?"

Sebastian looked at the boy, regarding his choice in clothes. Dark suit, white shirt, blood-red tie. An interesting combination. It made him older, the trousers and flat shoes. Very different from the shorts and high heels Ciel Phantomhive used to wear.

"Not yet," Jason said, tugging at his collar slightly. He left the top button undone. "My training wasn't... well, I wasn't prepared. That's why the Joker got me. I wasn't ready."

Sebastian nodded.

"And how will you consider yourself prepared?" he asked. Jason thought about this for a minute.

"You saved me... and you teleported us here, or however you got us here..." He looked dead into Sebastian's eyes. "Can you train me?"

Sebastian considered the question.

"It depends on what you wished to be trained in," he answered finally. "Physical combat, stealth tactics, psychological warfare..."

Jason nodded.

"I could use that," he said.

"But I can teach you so much more," Sebastian said. "Only if you can push yourself past the limits of your feeble race. It won't be easy."

Jason was beginning to see the big picture.

This thing, this demon was going to get his soul. The price...

What was the price? Saving him? Training him?

Jason began to see the full implications of their "contract." He could become the most powerful human on earth with this butler at his side.

And when he killed the Joker, it would end.

But now, surprisingly, it was Batman that irked him more. His tawdry rule... it didn't work. And because of it, innocent people had died, himself included. It was time for payback.

"Alright," he said. "I'll do this. But there's something you should know..."

Sebastian nodded.

"I won't stop until every single psychopath is dead. Joker, Two-Face, Penguin... all of them. I want to show Batman just how badly he screwed up."

"Of course, young master," Sebastian said. "I promised to aid you in your revenge. I won't believe, and neither should you, that this is about justice." He smiled, revealing sharp canines. "This is about revenge, pure and simple. That is one of my specialties."

Jason thought about this. It seemed... surreal.

But this was his life now. He would be turned into a perfect killing machine.

A sudden thought entered his mind that Alfred would never have done anything like this.

But then again... Alfred wasn't a demon. He had just been a butler.

Jason had to tell himself that a few times before he realized he didn't believe that.

"Shall we go, young master?" Sebastian asked, gesturing. Jason shook himself mentally.

"Where to?" he asked. Sebastian grinned again.

"To where you shall begin your training."

An instant later, they were outside of large steel gates, outside an old manor house.

"Welcome to the Phantomhive Manor, Master Jason," Sebastian said. "Your new home."

Thank you, and good night.