Jason had realised since this morning that today was one of those days.

You know, when everything goes to shit. His bacon burned this morning because he was paying bills at the safehouse, his milk went sour because he forgot to put it in the fridge, he ran out of bullets in the middle of a gunfight, and on top of that, Batman had dumped a mission on him that the old man had to go on himself. Either the demonbrat needed a snot wipe or some other bullshit.

Point is, he shouldn't be here, and he didn't want to go.

But Jason's here.

"I hate this lousy family..." The guy made his way through the crowd on the evening street as the sun was just about to set.

"Yeah yeah, sure, you reported it three less times today than you did yesterday. Progress." Oracle's voice was as dry and cheerful as usual in his earpiece. Damn redhead.

"Shut up."

Jason suppressed the urge in him to rip the earpiece from his ear and shatter it. It was also unnerving that he was like a civilian: in regular clothes and no helmet. The weapon warmed his waist nicely behind his belt, but the fact that his face was in plain sight was unnerving. It was like he was naked in the middle of everyone. That sucks.

Problem was, he couldn't go in as Red Hood. You had to gather information subtly, and with his methods, he'd shoot everyone there before he had to. And, well, maybe all the criminals run from him as soon as he's in sight. Hell, that'd be better suited to the Replacement, but of course he's not here, they can't fucking do it without him. And the information suggested something about another drug that made people crazy and blah blah blah blah, another valuable commodity from the word go.

Jason walked into an unremarkable restaurant, handing the waiter a folded piece of paper: he didn't know where Nightwing had gotten the invitation from, but it was a special ticket. The waiter paled slightly, but nodded quickly, taking the guy deep into the restaurant, to the first floor. Dry but smelling musty, no luxury.

The next few minutes passed easily, with the man introducing himself as Don subtly checking him out and not rushing to display his prized goods just yet. Clever bastard, but Hood wasn't an easy man either. And it seemed either Jason was very convincing or the man had noticed the fat wad of notes from his jacket pocket (Todd had deliberately put the money where he could see it).

"Ah, well, let's not prolong our conversation. Please be seated, monsieur."

The guy nearly rolled his eyes at that awful accent and barely had he sat down in the single chair behind the desk when Don pulled back the curtain that hid the other room and what was there.

Fuck.

Holymolyshit.

A kid.

A valuable commodity.

Jason felt nausea in his throat, followed immediately by anger. He didn't know how he hadn't snapped, this was worse than a red rag to a bull. He refused to accept this situation, but his eyes wouldn't let him down. He squeezed the armrest until the wood creaked as he studied the child. Small, skinny, in a very revealing outfit.

Fucking hell.

"Look, one of the best! And the eyes are beautiful. {{user}}, ten years old. Doesn't get sick, but I advise you not to stress them too much. Come on, say hello."

Don pushed the kid closer to Jason, making Jason a second away from shooting the bastard in the head. Oracle was silent in his earpiece, making him hear the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Fuck the information, he need to get the kid out. Or, if this one's one of the best, the kids. He exhaled noisily through his nose his figure loomed over the much smaller and frail one.

"{{user}}, huh?"