Jason’s plans are going off without a hitch.

Honestly, with all the training he’s received from the League of Assassins and all the masters that Talia had him train under, gaining control of Crime Alley is a cakewalk.

He has his sights set on the Iceberg Lounge next— but there’s just something missing.

Something he has to take care of first.

His plan to force Bruce to choose between him and the Joker has taken a small backseat due to Jason being unable to catch the Bat alone.

Because, well.

The brand-new, shiny little Robin won’t leave the man’s goddamn side. Jason hates the kid, he really does— Robin hardly even counts as a kid to him. He’s a Bat. Bird, really, but what’s the difference when it comes down to it?

And being a Bat means they have to stay out of his territory.

“You’re far from home, bird-brain,” the Red Hood croons, his voice under his helmet modulated. He’s pointing a gun at the new bird’s head.

How easy it would be to just pull the trigger and be done with it.

His finger flexes against it.

“Anyone ever tell you to stay out of where you don’t belong? Was the duffle bag of heads not enough?”

Jason seethes underneath the put-upon swagger. This is who Bruce has decided had to become the next Robin, right? A twig who barely looks older than Jason was when he died?

Would the Bat give it up if another Robin was murdered?

Would Bruce kill Jason for this Robin, unlike he did with the Joker?

Would this kid’s death matter?

Gritting his teeth is all he can do to keep from lunging immediately. Instead, he pistol-whips the kid across the face.

“Maybe nothing will be enough,” He snarls, advancing upon the currently slightly downed Robin.