Sometimes, when Jason’s dreams are just bad and not nightmares, there is no crowbar. Just laughter and the mocking voice of his killer calling him “Boy Blunder.”

In hindsight, he can see his mistakes. His search for his mother was a blunder from the beginning. He never made a thorough check of the backgrounds of the three women who might have been his biological mother. Sheila Haywood looked innocent enough – a doctor and humanitarian. Had he checked her accounts, he would have known she was steeling from the funds.

But Jason had not looked. He had just wanted to find her, hold her, be loved.

Looking back, Jason knows he should not have trusted her with his secrets. So dumb. He had trusted her and had walked right into the Joker. He should have done as Bruce had told him, should have waited. Jason hadn’t listened. And he had died because of it.



Fandom: Batman
Muse Jason Todd

The microphone was pushed in front of Jason’s mouth so suddenly that it took him by surprise and he nearly attacked. “Fuck!” He should have seen it coming. Jason tore the headphones off. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, we’re making interviews for GCOne, this city’s prime radio station. If you could change one aspect of society, what would it be?”

Jason Todd stared at the naive-looking man with the eager eyes and childish grin. “New in town?”

“Err..yeah…” A bead of sweat formed on the interviewer’s brow and slowly trickled down his face.

Oh boy, the man was so fresh in town it hurt. If looking into Jason’s Gotham forged eyes made him sweat through his shirt, he’d never live through his first year here.

Jason did not break eye contact but he gestured to the microphone, which was gladly pushed towards him again. “Our society has the death penalty, right? Then someone please tell me…Why are those creeps in Arkham allowed to live?” Why was his murderer alive?

“Arkham? Isn’t that the prison island offshore?”

“No it’s a fucking amusement park for psychopaths.”

Why was the Joker allowed to torture and murder in cold blood?

“Well, then I’d say they are kept alive because they’re insane.”

The answer was always the same. They’re insane. He’s insane. We can’t prosecute. The Joker crippled Barbara, shot her stepmother. Beat Jason half-dead and detonated the bomb that killed him and his mo- Sheila.

“Isn’t the victim more important than the delinquent?”

Barbara would never be able to feel or use her legs again. Jason had to live knowing that he could never expect to see justice from the penalty system. Had to live with shrill laughter and blazing pain haunting his nightmares.

The dude with his oversized baseball cap from GCOne put a finger to his nose and thought hard. “Well….”

“Man, don’t sweat it. My answer’s simple. If I could change one thing about society, I’d aapply the death penalty for those creeps in Arkham. No matter what the psychiatrists say.” Kill the Joker. Children, fathers and mothers would be spared a lot of pain. Jason’s rest would be less painful.
He pushed the headphones back on and jogged off.

Words:366

First, Jason fought to keep his Mom and himself alive. He did his best, cared for her for a year, but it wasn’t enough. She died. Alone, Jason struggled on to survive.

One day, this fight ended to be replaced by a new battle. The irony wasn’t lost on him. His battle against crime had started with a crime he committed. After he had stolen the front tyres of the Batmobile, Batman had dragged him into the cave. Then, Bruce took him in as a son and taught him to fight crime. For a while Jason was contend. Side by side, back against back he fought with Batman against the worst criminals Gotham City had to offer. But the path led to a dead-end. Jason died.

He was back now, older, stronger and wiser. Bruce kept saying that fighting crime was to wage war against the criminals but that you had to bee a good soldier. So wrong Bruce, it was all so wrong. Jason knew that if you went to war, it wasn’t enough to teach the bad guys a lesson. You had to be prepared to kill the enemy. That’s the way of every war. No victory without spilling some blood. Otherwise, war went on eternally.

Jason put on his red helmet, pushed the knife under his jacket next to the re-loaded guns. Once upon a time, Jason had sworn the same oath as Bruce: To fight crime and never to waver from the path of justice. And that was what Jason would do. He’d succeed where Bruce faltered. He’d kill those deserving death, end the war and bring peace.

Muse: Jason Todd (Robin II/Red Hood)
Fandom: Batman
Words: 271

What do you want on your tombstone - and why?

Jason laughed. Vibrant, yet dead underneath, it sounded unpleasant even to his own ears. He had a tombstone, two, to be exact. Some people owned two cars, two houses, anything. He had tombstones on his graves and empty coffins. If he wanted to, he could bring himself flowers and keep himself company.

Morbid? Well, it was not his fault he had come back from the dead. Jason didn’t know who was to blame. He told Bruce he didn’t care but if Jason was entirely honest with himself, it bothered him. Because, one day someone would want to collect the debt. Jason shuddered and dismissed this line of thinking.

Tombstones. The engraftment on the official tombstone was: Jason Todd – loved son. Should he ever die again, then Jason wanted something else: ‘No one’s son’ or ‘Jason Todd was here’, preferably written in blood, his own blood.

The other tombstone just had his name on it, which was fine, really. And it wasn’t next to Sheila’s. He no longer considered her a mother. He never should have.

175

Sunrise

The night fled. Like streaks of hope, sunrays stole through the skyscrapers and for moments, the gargoyles stood out as darkly demons against the reddened sky. The bells of St. Martin rang and Jason stifled a yawn. Batman lifted his head and a content smile brightened his face.

Four weeks had passed since Jason received the Robin costume and four times they had been standing here. Everytime, Batman waited until the bells announced that Sunday had come. It was like a ritual or something. Jason hadn’t dared to ask why - not that he normally bothered saying things he shouldn’t – but when it came to rituals, he was careful. He had learned his lesson the hard way when he had dared to talk to his Dad once before an important job. Before he had time to say sorry, Dad had pushed him head first against the wall and kept hitting. It had been the first time Jason had lied to his Mum about something. Not wanting to hurt her, he had said the black eye was from a street fight. Dad had never beaten him again, yet their relationship had not been the same again. Now his father was dead, and Jason would not even have the chance to ever interrupt him again.

How would Bruce react? With hostility? If he did, then it was still time for Jason Todd to roam the streets again. But he wouldn’t know if he didn’t ask now, didn’t he? Finally, Jason just blurted the question out. “You like the dawn?”

“Yes.”

The answer was simple, without hostility, yet Jason flinched. When Batman turned, Jason hid it behind a stifled yawn. “Home? I’m tired.” Words were the best distraction if you did not want to talk.

292

Road Trip

Wind rushed by, tearing at his motorcycle suit, but the leather kept it from Jason’s skin. The engine roared as he drove towards the skyscraper silhouettes that he could make out against the setting sun. Gotham and New York weren’t that far away from each other as he would have preferred - probably not far enough to keep Bruce out of this.

According to the press, Nightwing has quit. Jason had double-checked that before took off to go on yet another family reunion. Sure, they had already met...but the kicks and blocks they had exchanged did not really count. The machine guns...Jason suppressed the brief unease he felt. They had been nothing more than a nuisance to Dick.

Jason took the next exit. Why had Dick left the crime fighting path? Had he seen that his struggle was a futile as Bruce’s? That teaching them a lesson was not enough? Jason had to know.

Dirtbags deserved death. Bruce didn’t understand that, therefore, speaking to Dick anywhere near Bruce wouldn’t help at all. Calling Dick wasn’t an option either – he would hang up the moment Jason had said his first sentence. Chances were high he would report the call to Bruce. But donning Dick’s costume would force a confrontation.

Jason grinned wryly. It wasn’t that often that the black sheep of the family bothered to visit.

Muse: Jason Todd
Words: 225