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"Hey, man."
Jason waved at Dan as he stepped into the bodega, avoiding the broken doorstep with ease.
"How's it going?"
"Quiet," Dan said, leaning on the counter. He squinted at the doorway. "Mostly. Is it your night off?"
"Yeah," Jason shrugged, turning to the small refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of eggs, eyeing the small selection of fruit to his left. "How'd you know?"
"You don't look like you wanna kill anyone."
Jason snorted, grabbing a banana. He placed the items on the small countertop, flicking a glance at the long-broken security camera. "Thanks."
"One of these days, you'll tell me what you actually do," Dan said, ringing up the groceries. Kind eyes twinkled down at him, framed by an impressive pair of crow's feet. "You look exhausted, boy. They workin' you too hard?"
"Something like that," Jason said. He handed over a twenty, bagging the items before the older man could reach for them. "Hey, isn't this usually Karen's night?"
"Karen's out back takin' a smoke break," Dan said, nodding his head towards the back door. "Poor thing had her car stolen few hours ago. It's disgraceful, if ya ask me."
Jason took his change slowly. He stared out of the small window behind Dave's head. He could see Karen's red hair, pressed against the glass. Soft sniffling reached his ears, muffled by the traffic outside.
"No way," he said, casually. "That's awful."
"Course it is," Dan said, following his gaze to the back window. "Well, Karen's damn near distraught. She called the police and everythin', but there ain't much they can do."
No, Jason thought, his fists clenching under the counter, of course there isn't.
"Did she see who did it?"
Dan turned to him, eyes sharp. "That's a dumb question to be askin' around here, boy."
"I mean, maybe that'll help the investigation," Jason shrugged, grabbing the grocery bag. "I don't know. Is she okay?"
"Cryin' her eyes out all evening," Dan said, lips pursing. "Those carjackers ever come into my store, you bet I'll use this."
He patted the counter, where Jason knew he had a black-market Uzi stashed. The thought comforted him, somehow.
"I'll go talk to her," he said, eyeing the gun. "Thanks again. Please don't shoot anyone."
"Uh huh," Dan said, patting the counter again for good measure. "Be seein' ya, Jason."
"Seeya, Dan."
He closed the door behind him carefully, mindful of the broken doorjamb. It wasn't hard to find Karen in the darkness; a cloud of smoke filled the alley, the product of a good three hours of chain smoking.
"Hey. Karen."
The woman spun, nearly dropping her cigarette. Her eyes widened.
"Jay, honey," she said, in her thick southern accent. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"Heard you got into a little trouble," he said, joining her against the wall. She offered him a cigarette, which he took. "They took your car?"
"The minivan," she said, distraught, "I thought those jackers only took fancy cars. I thought there was no way in hell they'd take my old lady."
Jason shook his head, pulling out his lighter. He cupped a hand, lighting the cheap Marlboro. "The police say who did it?"
"Those thugs from 35th street," she said, stubbing her cigarette out on the wall. "They have surveillance video and everything. Won't do a damn thing, though, since it ain't an emergency."
She continued to stub out the cigarette, ash flying across the alley. Jason raised an eyebrow, staying silent. He could see tear tracks under her eyes, even in the near-darkness.
After a minute of this, he grabbed her wrist gently.
"Try another one," he suggested, voice soft.
Karen pulled out the cigarettes again, her hand trembling. She avoided his eyes, lighting one quickly and shoving it between her lips.
"I need the damn car to drive Teddy around," she said, waving the lighter at the street. "That's the only way I can get him to his dad's. He lives three fuckin' hours from here. How the hell am I supposed to keep up the custody agreement without a car, huh? I can't afford another car, Jay. I can't."
He put an arm around her shoulders. Karen tucked her head against his chest, stubbornly resisting tears. She blew smoke past his shoulder, her eyes red.
Jason felt a sudden wave of anger.
"You're a little short," Karen had laughed, counting his quarters on the counter. "That's okay. We ordered too many eggs last week. Why don't ya just take 'em, make pancakes or somethin', alright, hon?"
He bit down on the fury rising in his chest. His fingers itched for the grips of his guns.
He could imagine how quick it would be. How satisfying.
"It'll be okay," he said quietly, when she'd stopped shaking. He squeezed her shoulder, willing away the bloodfury. "You'll get your car back. I promise."
"How the hell you gonna promise that?" Karen asked, craning her neck to look up at him. "You some secret police officer you never told me about?"
Jason smiled.
"Let's get you home, huh?"
It was torture to walk to his apartment. He kept his hands at his sides, his pace slow and measured. Fury curled through him like a snake, begging to be fed. The groceries went into the fridge without a second thought.
He knelt, pulling open his cabinet. Inside, the hood and his guns stared back, oiled and inspected. The bullets were lined up by caliber, bracketed in by a half-dozen semi-automatics. On the shelf above, he had an entire rack of pistols, begging to be loaded.
His eyes fell on his holsters. He grabbed two Smith & Wessons, setting them carefully on the floor.
What a great night off, he thought, this is going to be.
He snuck out the back exit, ducking into the alley. He'd thrown on a hoodie over the costume, covering his face. He kept to the shadows, walking north.
Three blocks up, he found the right-sized car. Four door sedan, dark. Cheap. Perfect.
He dug out the clothes hanger from his pocket, jamming it into the window lining on the driver's side. He dug down, searching for the perfect spot. Strange how quick this comes back.
Footsteps sounded behind him, catching him by surprise. He ducked behind the window, yanking the hanger out of the lining.
His hand went to his holster without a second thought, ready to shoot whatever would-be gangster was behind him.
"Hey, Jason!"
Tim stood in the middle of the sidewalk, waving at him. He was wearing a black hoodie, which somehow only made him more conspicuous. How he'd snuck up on him was a mystery.
Jason groaned, his hopes for a no-nonsense revenge trip going out the window.
"Get the hell out of here," he hissed at the teen, returning to his task. "Now."
"What's that?" Tim asked loudly.
"Nothing. Go away."
"What are you doing?"
"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Jason grunted as the lock finally popped, pulling the hanger out. "It's 3 AM. What the fuck are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep. Thought you might be up to something interesting," Tim's eyes widened as Jason pulled open the door. "Are you stealing a car?"
"No." Jason muttered, ducking below the console. "Now leave. Go bother Dick."
"Dick's having a sleepover at Babs'," Tim said, wiggling his eyebrows scandalously. "And Damian won't do anything interesting. I'm bored."
"Go be bored somewhere else," Jason said, yanking on a particularly stubborn wire, "I'm busy."
"Why are you stealing a car?"
"None of your business."
"No, really."
"I said, none of your business."
Jason grinned as the engine turned over, twisting the wires together and pushing them back under the console. He looked up, only to find Tim in the passenger seat.
"I'm going with," the teen said, kicking his feet up on the dashboard, "Wherever it is that you're going, that is. Cause you're stealing a car, so obviously it's important."
"Get the fuck out of my car."
"It's not your car," Tim said, crossing his arms, "You're stealing it."
"I'm stealing it so I can-" Jason cut off, waving a hand. "You know what, never mind. You wanna get shot, you go ahead."
"Ooh, so it is something crime-related," Tim said, digging in his pocket. He pulled out a domino mask, pressing it to his face. "I came prepared."
Jason groaned, thumping his head against the steering wheel.
It was going to be a long night.
"So, why not take your motorcycle?"
Jason grit his teeth, taking the corner with a little more force than necessary. "Too conspicuous."
"I thought you liked conspicuous."
"Not when it's loud," he replied, watching the car in front of him carefully. "Now shut up. I can't see the license plates."
The last hideout he'd seen around here had been active months ago. The 35th Street Gang was nothing special, but it was large. Tracking them was boring, tedious work at best.
A warehouse somewhere over here...
"Me talking has nothing to do with your visual abilities," Tim said, leaning back in the seat, his belt unfastened. "Are you going to tell me what you're looking for?"
"Car thieves."
"O...kay..." Tim said, looking around dramatically. He turned to Jason, eyes wide. "I found one."
"Not funny."
The car in front of them turned into an alley, dampening its lights. Jason smirked, turning the corner after them. A warehouse came into view, obviously abandoned.
Got you.
A set of blue and red lights sprang to life behind them. Jason glanced in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the wheel. A siren began to wail.
"Fuck," he said, as the GCPD cruiser pulled behind them. "Fuck!"
"We gotta pull over," Tim said, looking back at the cops.
"We don't gotta do shit," Jason said, hauling the wheel to the left and slamming his boot down on the accelerator. The tires screamed against the asphalt. "Put your seatbelt on."
"What?"
"I said, put your damn seatbelt on!"
The cruiser lurched forward after them. Jason gunned the sedan towards a side street, the engine protesting as he shifted gears.
How the hell did they find us so quickly?
Another set of lights joined the first cruiser in the rearview. Jason swore as he took the corner on two wheels, the van's tires squealing.
"THIS IS GOTHAM PD. PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY."
"Fuck that," he muttered, turning into an alley. He gunned the car over the uneven pavement, swerving around a dumpster. He put a hand out to catch Tim's chest. "Hold on."
The cruisers sped after them, skidding across the bricks. A third car appeared at the mouth of the alley, cutting them off.
"Damn it," Jason said, spinning the wheel. They slid sideways, bouncing into somebody's back yard.
Tim let out a yell as they crashed through a fence, sending dirt and plastic flying. The windshield cracked, obscuring the road. Sirens wailed behind them.
"Aaaaaah!"
The car bounced as they hit sidewalk, the bumper catching the curb in a spray of sparks. The sedan rocked violently, threatening to tip over.
"Why the hell are they chasing me?" Jason roared, swinging them back onto the street.
"I don't know, maybe because you stole a car?" Tim was bracing against the dashboard for dear life. "DO YOU THINK THAT COULD BE WHY, JASON?"
He put the pedal down, grinding his teeth. The car protested as they hit 85, the engine groaning as they inched towards 90. Jason patted the dashboard reassuringly.
C'mon, baby...
Tim continued to glance out of the back window, the passing streetlights catching at the glass his hair. He seemed anything but scared.
"Put your head down," Jason snapped, turning them back onto the main street. When Tim hesitated, he reached forwards, ready to slam the teen into the footwell.
"Okay, okay!" Tim ducked down, swatting at him. "I'm going."
"And get me the quickest route to Denny's."
A snort came from the footwell. "Denny's?!"
"I didn't ask for your opinion, Timothy."
Tim slurped on his soda, kicking his feet out.
"So Denny's is the best place to steal a car?"
"Mhm," Jason said, fumbling with the clothes hanger. "Half these cars are stolen."
Tim looked around the parking lot, his eyes wide. "Really?"
"Yeah. Now stop staring at me. You're making us look suspicious."
A pair of hookers watched them curiously from the corner. They waved at Jason when he looked up, giggling. One had her cell phone out.
He was suddenly, irrationally grateful for Tim's mask. There was no world where getting caught with hookers and a stolen car at Denny's looked good for the Wayne family.
Bruce would have a conniption, Jason thought, snorting.
Tim ducked his head, taking another sip from his Coke.
"Sorry."
Jason grunted as the lock finally disengaged, throwing the hanger in the backseat.
"Don't be sorry. Just get in before the cops find us."
"You know, they're a lot more concerned about car thefts than I thought they'd be," Tim frowned, "Aren't people like, getting murdered everywhere?"
"In."
"Right."
They left the destroyed car in the parking lot, speeding out of the drive-thru entrance. Tim put his seatbelt on without prompting, a grin across his face.
"Where to now, boss?"
This time, they crept back to the warehouse on foot, ditching the car a few blocks away. Tim stayed mercifully silent, glued to his side as they slid between houses and cars.
Six gang members were smoking just outside of the entrance, their cigarettes glowing cherry-red in the low light. Muffled Spanish drifted towards them.
Jason reached for his guns, flexing his hands one last time.
Now or never.
"What the hell is this place?" Tim whispered, interrupting his moment. "It doesn't look like anyone's been here in years."
"Chop shop," Jason whispered back, shoving the teen further into the bushes, "It's where they break down cars and sell the parts."
"I know what a chop shop is, Jason."
He rolled his eyes. "Stay here, replacement. I'm going in."
"I'm coming with you," Tim grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let go. "Dick says when you work alone, you shoot more people."
"I-okay, first of all, rude," Jason shrugged him off, irritated, "And second of all, I'm not going to kill anyone."
"You're totally lying."
"Why are you even here," Jason moaned, turning back towards the chop shop. "Just-don't get hurt, okay? I'm not explaining to Bruce why his little bird has bullet holes in it."
"That was diminutive and condescending," Tim said, pulling out a pair of escrima sticks from his pocket. "And I'm telling Dick."
"Bite me."
Tim held his sticks out, ready to fight. Jason checked his magazine one last time, clicking the safety off.
They dove forward together, concealed by the shadows.
Tim slammed the escrima stick into the first man's head, catching him completely by surprise. The other men scrambled for their guns, scattering.
"iPendeja!"
"¿Que pasó?"
"iVen aqui!"
Jason shot the second man before he could aim at Tim, sending a warning shot past his ear. The bullet tore through the gangster's arm, splattering blood everywhere.
"Hijo de puta," the man said, stumbling backwards. Frantic eyes met his. "Red hood? Pero-"
Tim spun, doing a fancy flip that caught him across the jaw. The man stumbled backwards, unconscious before he hit the ground.
That's my replacement, Jason thought proudly, ducking around the teen.
Tim grabbed another gang member and slammed him to the ground, hitting him across the temple for good measure. He stood to Jason's left, panting slightly.
The remaining pandilleros began firing wildly, running back towards the door.
"Great," Jason muttered. He rolled his eyes as they shot way over his head, drawing the fire away from Tim. "They're all gonna be waiting for us inside now."
"I can't hear anything," Tim said. He tapped at his ear when Jason turned to him. "IS THIS HOW IT ALWAYS IS FOR YOU?"
A gangster stepped into the doorway, a rifle in his hands. Jason shot him in both knees. Tim flinched.
"Yeah. It's called tinnitus. Get used to it."
They crept over to the far edge of the property, keeping to the shadows. There was a solitary window on the west side of the building, covered in chicken wire and dust.
Hello, darling.
Jason peered in. Just past the glass, a good two dozen cars sat, half-hidden in the low light. The gangsters were huddled in the middle, frantically loading their guns, talking rapid-fire in Spanish.
All work inside had ceased. The cars were caught in various states of disassembly, license plates missing or partially-removed. At the far wall, a tan minivan sat, untouched.
"Bingo," Jason whispered, signalling to Tim. "It's here."
"What's here?"
He checked his clip, biting his lip as he counted rounds. "Karen's minivan."
"Karen's minivan. Right." Tim said casually, crossing his arms. There was a splatter of blood across his cheek. "Karen from…"
"None of your business," Jason snapped, sliding the clip back into place. He looked up at the side of the building, trying to gauge the height. "How good is your climbing these days?"
It was almost too easy to sneak into the warehouse.
They climbed through the window, dropping one by one to the floor. The second level of the warehouse was bare, lined with old wooden planks and rusted nails. An old printing press sat in one corner.
Huh.
The shop below was completely exposed through the center rafters. Jason eyed the oak beams fondly, surprised they'd held up this long.
He signalled to Tim, creeping over to the other side of the rafters. They stared at each other across the gap, waiting.
Fuck it. Let's go.
With one last glance, Jason crept forward, his guns ready.
"Hey fuckheads," he called down, stepping onto the rafter. "Which one of you stole the Toyota Sienna?"
After a startled second, a salvo of bullets flew at his head. He dove towards the ground, firing with both guns. The warehouse spun around him, blurring into the background.
Three men went down, clutching at their shattered knee caps. He ducked into a roll, absorbing the shock from the concrete. Bullets flew around him, ricocheting off the brick walls.
Tim flipped down behind him, taking out the remaining two gangsters with a lightning-fast series of hits and blocks. Blood dripped from his sticks as he straightened, turning to Jason.
"How was that?"
Jason snorted. He ignored Tim's frown, kicking away the gangsters' guns. They took in the operation together, silent, save for their breathing.
The chop shop was fairly clean. The remaining cars were lined up in order of disassembly, their parts strewn across the concrete floor. Portable LED lights were set up in each corner, pointed at the gutted engines.
One of the gangsters moaned, twitching. Jason ignored him, walking over to the minivan.
"Wow," Tim said, trailing behind him. For all his badassery, he didn't sound a day past twelve. "This is really cool."
Jason pulled at the driver's door, letting out a groan as it refused to budge. He really didn't want to break open Karen's lock. It seemed wrong, somehow.
"You see anything long and pointy?"
Tim gave him a look when he turned around, shrugging. Jason left him, stalking off to a table in the corner. It was covered in parts and old keys, streaked with oil at the edges.
Pointy thing, pointy thing, pointy thing-
A large box under the table caught his eye, a not-so innocuous scale sitting next to it. He smirked, following along.
That explains a lot.
"Hey, what's that?" Tim called from a few feet away, sounding curious. "Jason?"
He pulled the flaps open, revealing a dozen half-pound plastic bags. The pouches were filled with clear, shattered crystal. He lifted one into the air, showing the teen with a grin.
"Think the cartel's gonna miss this?"
"Um." Tim squinted at the bag, tilting his head. "What the hell is that?"
"That's meth, dumbass."
The teen crossed his arms. "It's not blue."
"It's not actually blue in real life."
He loaded the box into the back of Karen's van. Tim watched, frowning in a way that was vaguely reminiscent of Bruce. He didn't comment on the drugs, his lips pursed.
No fun, Jason thought.
A familiar scent caught his attention. He closed the van's trunk, turning towards the source.
"They left a gas line open."
He huffed a laugh, following the smell to an old Dodge Caravan. Tim knelt behind him, glancing at the undercarriage.
Jason pushed him back, wrinkling his nose. There was a pool of gas under the front wheels, slowly spreading into the workspace.
"Well, that definitely looks safe."
"You got a lighter?" Tim asked, a mischievous smile on his face. It quickly turned into a frown. "Wait. No. If we blow this place up, everyone's gonna die."
Jason stared at him.
"That's not okay, Jason," Tim said, frowning. He walked over to the one of the unconscious gangsters, dragging him towards the door by his arms. "If we're blowing this place up, we're doing it safely."
He rolled his eyes. "There's no safe way to blow up a building, idiot."
"That's what you think." Tim grunted, grabbing the man around the waist. He dragged him towards the threshold, breathing heavily. "Are you going to just stand there?"
Jason sighed, briefly reconsidering his life choices. He grabbed a pair of ankles and started pulling.
"That's all of them."
Jason wiped his hands on the gangster's pants. A pile of unconscious pandilleros sat in front of him, safely stashed in a nearby bush. He turned to Tim.
"Did you open the rest of the tanks like I told you?"
"I did. I knocked over some random boxes, too," the teen shrugged. "They had a lot of oil everywhere, so I think it'll burn pretty well."
"Let's hope." Jason said, turning back to the van. "Everything's loaded?"
"Yeah, I think so."
He gestured towards the van, parked a few hundred feet from the warehouse entrance. "Get in."
"I wanna light the gas."
"Absolutely not."
"Please?"
The hesitation was just long enough. Tim grabbed the lighter from his hand, fumbling with it.
Who am I kidding, Jason thought, I can't let him do this. Dick would kill me.
He snatched the lighter back before the kid blew both of them up, shoving Tim towards the van.
"Inside, firebug. Maybe next time."
With a flick of his hand, he threw the lighter at the gas. The line caught instantly, flames traveling back towards the building at break-neck speed.
Jason was in and belted, shifting into drive before the door was completely closed.
"Let's blow this popsicle stand," he muttered. "Now."
They peeled out of the drive, headed for the closest street. Jason took a breath, relieved as flames sprang up behind them.
"Well, that was-" Tim cut off, his eyes tracking something over Jason's shoulder. "Oh shi-"
He ducked just before his window shattered. Gunfire boomed above his head, unbearably loud in the cramped alley.
"Holy shit," Tim said, pressed to the passenger window. "It's more cartel."
"Get your head down," Jason growled, pulling out his pistol. A trio of cars pulled into the alley, boxing them in. He braced himself against the empty window frame. "Now, Tim!"
He shot at the closest car, spinning the wheel with his other hand as they rounded into a different alley. Tim went crashing into the backseat with a shriek, fumbling for something to hold onto.
"PUT YOUR DAMN SEATBELT ON!" Jason yelled over his shoulder, "TIMOTHY DRAKE, I SWEAR TO GOD-"
He was cut off as the rear windshield shattered, ducking beneath the wheel. After a brief moment of disbelief, he stuck his head out of the window.
"HEY FUCKHEADS! Next person who shoots the minivan gets their balls shot off!"
A shot rang out, narrowly missing his head. The side mirror cracked, glass flying into the road. Jason fired back after a brief pause, offended.
"RUDE!"
When he ducked back inside, Tim was still halfway over the back seat, his ass stuck in the air. He was reaching for something on the floor, nearly falling over as they changed lanes.
"Hey, Jason!"
"What."
"There's a bunch of action figures back here!" Tim's head popped up, his hair mussed. His mask was only attached to half of his face. "Look, they even have Captain America!"
"Oh my god," Jason said, spinning the wheel to head south. He narrowly avoided running over a jogger, who apparently couldn't run on the sidewalk like a normal human being. "GET OUT OF THE ROAD, ASSHAT!"
Another burst of gunfire had him swerving. The van skidded right, scraping against a line of parked cars. He winced as the screeching of metal on metal reached his ears.
Hopefully Karen has good car insurance...
The accelerator caught under his foot, jamming against his heel. The van stalled at a painstaking 75 MPH.
"Fucking go!" he screamed, stamping on the pedal.
Behind them, the cartel cars were getting closer, and they certainly weren't running out of ammo anytime soon. He pounded a fist on the dash.
"Go, you ancient piece of shit!"
"Hey," a voice came from the backseat, slightly muffled, "Don't talk to Loretta like that."
"Who the fuck is Loretta?"
"The car," Tim reappeared with a Batman figurine, a Superman doll clenched in his other hand. "She seems like a Loretta. You know?"
"No, I don't," Jason growled, leaning out of the window again. He fired at the first car's windshield. The driver slumped in his seat, the car veering off to the side.
Yes. Finally.
"I love you, Clark," Tim sing-songed, holding the Batman figurine against the Superman one. "I love you too, Bruce. Mwah. Mwah."
"Are you fucking serious?"
The teen dropped the two dolls. "Whoah, look out!"
Jason turned around just in time to jerk the wheel. They careened around a closed road sign, barely missing the orange cones. The road switched to gravel, slowing their speed significantly.
"Hey, Jason, look. It's you," Tim held an Iron Man doll out the window, balancing it on what was left of the sideview mirror. "He's got the helmet and everything."
"Get your hand out of the window," Jason growled, gunning Loretta down the gravel path. "Timothy."
"Hey, I can-"
A bullet pinged off the mirror, taking a chunk of the Iron Man figurine with it. Tim shook the doll, crying out as his helmet crumbled into shards of plastic.
"Man down! I repeat, Iron Man is down!"
"Shut the fuck up," Jason said between gritted teeth, "Tim, I swear to God-"
"Language," Tim said, holding up the Captain America doll. "Loretta does not appreciate the swearing."
The closest cartel sedan finally caught up, slamming into his left side. Metal crumpled as the bumper caught Loretta's rear door, shredding the panel. Jason growled, wrenching the wheel to the right to send them onto a side street.
Asphalt. Thank Christ.
Tim went flying again as the van changed direction, slamming into the backseat with an audible thump. His newfound action figures scattered across the interior.
The sedan pulled up again, aiming for another shove. Jason leaned out the window and shot the driver.
Dumbass.
He gave the car a light tap with Loretta's bumper. It careened off the road, slamming into a parked Prius. Alarms blared in the distance, fading as they sped away,
The final cartel car pulled up. Jason reached for his gun, sticking it out of the missing window.
He was less than a yard from the other driver; they were so close, he could hear the other man's breathing.
The gangster went white, slamming on the brakes as he realized he was outnumbered. He reversed down a side street, wheels squealing.
"Loretta's not looking too good," Tim groaned, pulling himself onto the passenger seat. He fastened his seatbelt, an impressive bruise forming on his temple. "Also, I think the meth went everywhere."
Jason groaned, resisting the urge to facepalm on the steering wheel.
"Jesus Christ."
Bruce looked up from his coffee. A grinding noise caught his attention, echoing down the drive. He stood from the breakfast table, walking over the window.
Down the road, a tan minivan slid into view. To say it was in rough shape was an understatement. The car was missing three windows, while two were cracked. Half of the body panels were crumpled or scratched.
Bruce walked out to the driveway, taking his mug with him.
Well, this should be interesting.
The minivan slid to a stop a few feet away from his feet. The passenger door flew open, creaking on its hinges.
Tim stumbled out, a domino mask half-torn from his face. He was dusted in a fine powder, flecks of glass shining in his hair.
Jason slid out behind him, still dressed as the Hood. He was missing both of his guns. They stared at each other for a moment.
Tim reached for his mug. He pouted at Bruce when it was raised out of his reach, then made a beeline for the kitchen.
Jason pulled off his hood, avoiding Bruce's eyes.
"So," the other man said casually, gesturing back at the minivan. "You're good at fixing cars, right?"
"Have a great day. Thanks for shopping with us."
Karen smiled as the customer left, the expression dropping from her face as soon as the door shut.
Real nice guy.
She shoved the cash into the register, shutting it with more force than completely necessary.
"Whoah, what'd the register do to you?"
She looked up, startled. Jason stood in front of the counter, a young teen by his side. She hadn't heard the bell-or the door-which was strange.
"Jason."
"Hey Karen," he said, leaning against the counter. He smiled, the motion pulling at a cut on his lip. "How's it going?"
"It's going alright," she said, smiling back. This time, it was almost genuine. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Tim," Jason nudged the teen, "Say hi to Karen."
"Hi Karen," Tim said, grinning at her. He shook her hand with a flourish, making her giggle. He had a cut across his cheekbone, half-hidden by his hair. "It's a pleasure."
"Aren't you two adorable," Karen said, waving at them. "What's with the lip, Jay? You get mugged again?"
He snorted, turning away. Tim piped up.
"We, uh, we wrestle," he said, shrugging, "It gets a little rough."
Karen smirked, taking this at face value.
"Oh, you didn't tell me you wrestled, Jason."
"I didn't, did I?" the man said. He sent a glare towards his friend, which Karen didn't miss. An awkward pause followed.
"...Tim is my brother."
"Uh huh," Karen said slowly. She folded her hands, sparing him more embarrassment. "So. What is it today? More eggs? Vodka?"
Jason elbowed Tim under the counter. The younger man turned towards the window, his eyes widening in mock-surprise.
"Oh my gosh," he said, "is that, uh, your car outside, Karen? It's beautiful."
Karen bit her lip, a wave of anger rippling through her. She clenched her fists, ready to chew the younger man out.
"Honey, I don't think-"
She followed his gaze to the window, trailing off. Outside, her minivan sat against the curb, untouched.
"Mother of God," she said, her hand going to her mouth. She looked at Jason, then back to the car, beyond shocked. "Jay."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Jason!"
The other man relented, a grin tugging at his lips.
"You still have the keys, right?" Blue eyes met hers, amused. "You know, in case they didn't leave it unlocked."
She hurried around the counter, throwing herself at him. He caught her with a grunt, taking the surprise hug fairly well.
"Jason. Jason. You didn't."
"I didn't do anything," Jason protested, setting her back on her feet. He tilted his head towards Tim. "It was all him."
"Really."
"I'm completely serious."
She pulled the younger man into a hug, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you both. So much. You have no idea."
"Definitely worth it," Tim muttered.
"Shush," Jason kicked at him. He turned back to Karen, schooling his features carefully. "Go check out your car. You gotta pick up Teddy today, right?"
She felt tears burn, threatening to spill over. She hugged him one last time, gripping his shoulder tightly.
"You're a good man, Jason," she whispered, "Thank you."
She could feel him tense at the words, still so unwilling to take gratitude. She pinched his cheek, pulling away after a moment.
"Go check on Loretta," he said, softly. "She missed you. She had a real rough night."
"Um…" Karen said, frowning. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. "...Loretta?"
Jason and Tim shared a look. They grinned at each other, turning back to her.
"It's kind of a long story."
THE END