Sidekicks and Warehouse Meetings
The Red Hood was not a nice man.
Jason Todd had been a kind boy, though. Sweet in that foolish way that all kids are, so desperate to help the city that pissed on him daily.
Odd jobs for old ladies, walking neighbourhood children up to daycare… little shit that made such a tiny yet profound difference. It had felt natural to extend it further. To mess with motorbikes used by gang members, to steal enough gas masks from trucks to outfit his whole neighbourhood.
Hell, he’d stolen the wheels of the Batmobile with the goal of reverse engineering the bulletproof capabilities.
What was he on about?
Oh… yeah. He’d been an alright kid.
He wasn’t so much of that, now. Not after that kind boy’s life was cut violently short. Not after Jason had clawed his way from dirt, had forced his flesh to contort to humanity anew as he stumbled blind and furious.
A few years of traumatising his family, gallivanting the world to do the fucked shit no one else would, and watching half his friends die and the other half retire… well, Red Hood wasn’t exactly a big believer in human kindness.
That fact, the bitter truth that there were more shitheads than decent folk, was so utterly transparent in the chill in the air. It was evident in the soft ripple of warning that rolled up his spine, in the eerie silence as he stared from his perch at the window of the warehouse.
The job for this evening was supposed to be relatively simple. A couple of Joker’s goons had showed up in Black Mask’s territory, and word had gotten out of some kind of trade happening in the warehouses tonight between the gangs.
“Not a lot of muscle for a shipment.” He muttered over his coms, eyes focused on the trucks rolling out of the warehouse before him.
“I’m checking cameras, but I can’t see any backup,” Oracle’s frown was audible as the soft clatter of keys rung over the line. “Heads up, the big bat is on his way.”
Jason let out a grunt.
“He’s worried.” She spoke gently. “This feels… odd.”
He didn’t bother to hide his snort at that. Of course it felt off. It was Joker. When had that clown ever done anything that felt normal?
“I think my intel may have been off.” he begrudged, eyes flicking over the trucks until they settled on a faintly green gleam, flittering through the windows of the warehouse.
“How so?” Oracle replied, her voice faint as Jason’s eyes narrowed on the flickers from the warehouse.
“There is no deal.” He grunted. “But there’s… something in the warehouse.”
“I can send backup.”
He snorted in reply.
“Just the Big bat or is there a little bird on the way, too?”
“Big bat. He’s almost at your location.”
With a huff, Jason flicked his coms on mute. Of course Babs would ‘offer’ backup that was already on the way - the worst person to fight by his side, really. In his brief stint with his former family (though he wondered whether such a title was warranted, considering most of the birds had shown up after his demise), Jason had quickly learned just how little his opinion seemed to matter to them. It was such a simple thing, to agree to having backup, yet each time that support was already on the way before he could confirm whether he needed them.
His say on the matter was pretty moot to them. Even if he refused their help, they were waiting in the shadows and expecting him to fail. All so some teenager in lycra could natter about how right Oracle was, or how Jason was foolish for refusing aid.
It was inevitable. And it was fucking annoying.
Arching his grapple, he shot through the upper window of the warehouse. At least he had a little time to investigate before Batman would crash the party, grouching and mistrusting each of Jason’s gestures.
The intel had been a trap.
There was no deal, no trading between two rogues. Instead, as Jason landed on the dirt and slabs, he found himself faced by one man. A singular being of toxic waste and burning hatred masked by joyless cackles.
“You’re not the birdie I was expecting!” The clown cackled - eyes narrowed as they roamed Red Hood’s armour. It was oddly exposing despite his helmet and costume; the eerie irises crawling across each stitch and burn.
“Joker.” He growled, fingers flexing over pistol triggers.
“Oh, Hoodie!” The clown flittered fingers in a simpering wave as his eyes grew wide with anticipation. “Ya know what, you’re exactly who I hoped to see.” His slender fingers raised in a snap.
Then, falling from the rafters into an unnatural crouch - straightening as the squeak of his shoes still echoed in the warehouse - was what had clearly occupied Joker’s attention in recent weeks.
Jason winced at the sight of Joker’s newest victim.
God, the kid couldn’t have been older than than his mid teens - almost Tim’s age by any indication. That much was clear, even beneath the thick layers of paint that stained his features. A white base, with blue-smudged eyes - trailing down his cheeks to meet twin red dots. His lips were painted into a crimson frown; a perfect converse to the Joker’s sadistic grin.
Beyond the paint was hair stained an unnatural black and left like curled curtains by the teen’s eyes. Eyes that glowed an unnatural green, a shade so viridescent that Jason’s ears began to ring. A yellow and green jester outfit upon the teen’s scrawny form completed his sorry ensemble - set with washed-out pinkish frilled ruffles at the neck and sleeves. The jester costume had a strange ruffle at the centre - pulled along the green chest in a splotchy pink ‘Y’ shape. It brought a shiver that Jason could barely suppress.
Joker had forged a perfectly twisted version of Robin; contorted shades of Red Robin and Red Hood pulled into a villainous mirror.
It seemed Joker had finally gotten his wish. He’d made his very own sidekick.
“Ah, Red, you’re just in time!” Joker cackled at the Red Hood. He barely moved from his position, ignoring as the kid slunk towards Joker - barely as tall as the man’s shoulder. His baggy costume billowed with the movement; the kid likely just skin and bones beneath the clown suit. He looked almost like a zombie with those sluggish steps and desiccated limbs.
“Meet my newest creation.” Joker grinned as the teen settled beside him; the clown linking an arm around the kid’s shoulder’s - a barely perceptible flinch on his painted frown. “This is my sidekick, Mime.”
“He doesn’t fit your usual type.” Red Hood remarked, eyes flicking between each goon and gangster in-between him and getting Joker’s new victim out of there. He blinked at that thought, at the surprising protective urge towards this child so like his brother.
“Didn’t ya know?” The clown grinned. “The only difference between comedy and tragedy is ya viewpoint.” He poked a finger at the boy’s temple; the kid barely blinking at the gesture. “I’m working on shifting his.”
“Didn’t you learn last time?” Red Hood growled; clenching his fist around his crowbar as he glared at the Joker. “I promised I’d kill you if you tried to fuck with a kid again.”
The boy, Mime, tilted his head as he looked at Red Hood, as though in curiosity. Joker promptly knocked his temple to adjust his head to normal.
“I’ll tell ya later.” He told Mime, though the way his frown exaggerated suggested the kid didn’t believe him.
“Did you cut out his tongue or something?” Jason spat, frowning beneath his helmet at the wordless teenager.
“I wish!” Joker cackled. “Poor kiddo can’t quite figure it out.” He contorted his painted lips into a frown to match the kid’s - swinging an arm around his shoulders. “But ya should see the kid move!”
God, it was like a perfect blend of each Robin. The kid observed him much like Cassandra did, with eyes wide and knowing.
And he’d been hurt before Joker. Killed, if those green eyes were any indication. God, it was so likely that there was a strip of white beneath the black dye on the kid’s hair. So likely that this boy had been brutalised long before this clown.
Mime made a broad motion to cup his hand to his ear. A signal, judging by the way Joker grinned brightly at the cartoonish gesture.
“Oh, Batsy! Ya gonna say hello?” Joker grinned, eyes flicking up to the rafters. With a subtle flick to infrared, Jason inspected the spot the two rogues were fixed on. There, in the outline of heat, was the Batman - wedged between the rafters and ceiling in a way no normal person could spy.
So the kid was a meta. Fucking fantastic.
With a practiced drop, Batman landed just before Jason - cloak flaring ridiculously as the man straightened. Bruce had been rattled by this new development, that much was clear. His too tense form was enough of a giveaway before Jason even began to address how the man was primed right in front of him.
“Joker.” Batman spoke flatly. “I see you’ve found another child to drag into your twisted plots.”
“Not just any child!” He cackled. “I’ve found myself my very own Robin! Looks just like ‘im, wouldn’t you say?” The clown looked to Red Hood was a blinding yellow grin - waggling his brow as the words cemented in his mind.
This kid… this ‘Mime’ was Jason 2.0. Likely another Crime Alley kid, only one that wasn’t able to steal the rims off of a vigilantes car to find brief safety. Instead, this child was found by the most insane man in Gotham, shoved into a jester outfit, and forced into a life of servitude to a madman.
His fists clenched, fingers pressing upon his gun triggers.
“Oh Batsy.” Joker cackled. “I needed a protege, don’t cha know? Someone to carry on the grand tradition of mayhem and chaos. Who better than a bright-eyed, eager little child?”
Batman’s eyes narrowed.
“Joker, this is a low, even for you.” He gravelled. “Dragging another child into your mess? Have you not learned?”
“I could teach him the lesson, again.” Red Hood offered with a growl.
“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy!” Joker groaned dramatically, reaching an arm around his sidekick’s shoulders - ignoring as the child tried to hide a flinch. “You’ve had your Robins for years and since they don’t seem to stay long, I thought I ought to make my own. Why should you get all the fun?” The clown bemoaned; a hand reaching to ruffle the black hair of his sidekick.
“This isn’t a fucking game.” Red Hood spat.
“But it is!” Joker cackled, grinning even wider as he took a step nearer to the odd devices. “And you may not be a sidekick anymore, but I’m sure you’ll understand the desire.”
“You’re corrupting another innocent life.” Batman claimed. “I won’t let this stand.”
“Oh Batsy, how naive you can be! This little one wants to be with me, don’t ya?”
The teenager, Mime, offered tilt of his head - eyes roaming over the clown’s lithe form before he gave a strong nod (far too forceful to feel genuine).
“You don’t have to do this, kid.” Jason spoke. “It’s not too late to just walk away.”
“Walk away?” Joker cackled. “Oh, Red, that’s rich!” He knocked his elbow into Mime’s side. “My kiddo is perfect, just like my very own Robin. Except even better! See, Mime here doesn’t talk back, doesn’t question orders, and best of all… boy does he love a good joke.”
That seemed to be a signal for the kid, as he twisted a hand behind his back - bending forwards in a bow. As he righted, Jason caught a flash of bright pink in the kid’s hand. It was a small pistol, almost like a water gun, clearly hidden somewhere in the flounce of fabric that cloaked him. It was pointed towards Batman as he tried to step closer, forcing the man to hesitate.
“This has to end, Joker.” Batman growled, voice cold and dark. “There’d a child beneath that paint. A child you had to paint a frown onto.”
“Oh, that’s just Mime’s aesthetic!” The man claimed, knocking a knuckle on the teen’s jaw. “What is joy without sorrow?”
“I thought that went against your idea of hilarity.” Jason deadpanned, willing the green not to consume him as he kept his focus on the child. “You can’t get him to laugh, can you?”
“I hardly need to.” Joker sniffed, sticking his nose up. “Mime is exactly where he needs to be, by my side and bringing a little more laughter to the world, even if through his little caricature.”
There! A slight pull at the teen’s lips, a deepening of his frown as though hiding his disapproval. A hint of something that proved the kid more than mere sidekick. Rather, he looked like a herded sheep. A rabbit caught in a trap, or deer before headlights. This wasn’t a willing participant of chaos, no.
Mime was a dead boy that Joker had stolen. His eyes glowed that toxic green, and God! It was like looking at this twisted caricature of himself. A younger version, all painted up in the way Joker had caught to paint him up.
The same way the bastard had hurt Timothy.
“And he’ll be better than your Robin ever was.” Joker continued to cackle, oblivious to the way that Red Hood’s finger clenched around the trigger, how his arm slowly raised as the clown remained focused on Batman.
But not Mime. No, the kid was watching him - his own gun still awkwardly pointed towards Batman. He seemed almost curious as he regarded the helmeted vigilante; vivid eyes roaming his costumed body, before settling on his helmet, almost as though spying the expression beneath.
And he relaxed. It was small, almost imperceptible, yet it was there. A faint glimmer of relief as the weapon’s path traced over his frail form until the gun pointed towards the clown. Then, as the kid seemed to realise Red Hood’s plan, did he tense anew and raise his fist beside his face to feign crying. Joker’s eyes clicked onto the action, quick to spy the gun now pointed at his head.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dead!” The clown laughed raucously, wrapping an arm around Mime’s shoulders. “Think we oughta hop to it, wouldn’t ya say, kid?”
Mime nodded once. With a final flourish - bowing deeply before the bats, as though finishing some grand performance - the teen spun and flicked out his arm towards the rafters. From his wrist, a thin white ribbon shot to the ceiling. It was like a web, or perhaps it was a web. Whatever the substance, it proved strong as the teen wrapped an arm around Joker’s middle and leapt to swing.
Jason’s arm swung after them, bullets pinging off metal rafters and walling as the pair fluttered through the warehouse - flying up to the rafters, to the neat gap in the skylight that had been Red Hood’s entrance.
The Joker jumped onto the roof, cackling that awful way, as he yanked the kid with him. Cloaked by night as they leapt away.
But in the darkness, Jason could almost swear that the kid’s eyes met his. Just for a second - less than that, really - but enough for the man to know one thing.
Because while the Red Hood was not a kind man, Jason Todd had been a kind boy. Kind enough to know when a kid with a heart like his had been was before him. Joker may have slathered him in paint and stitched him into hideous yellows and greens, but Red Hood could see it.
And God, it was like looking at Jason Todd again.
A kind boy, trapped.
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one of my kind readers made this wonderful artwork inspired by Peter's costume design. it was several months back, but I'm pants at figuring out how Tumblr works so it took until I posted a new update and they commented for me to even realise that they'd forged this incredible piece from my descriptions. many thanks to you ToastButter_and_Milk (@milkchocolatewithtoast on Tumblr), I'm truly in awe xx
