Jason Todd and his Supervillain Era

Getting run out of Gotham hadn’t exactly been Jason’s plan. 

If things had gone according to plan, it would have been fine. As it stands, Bruce is not dead. The Joker is not dead. Robin wasn’t dead either, but Jason slitting his throat had been enough to majorly piss Bruce off. Needless to say, things really hadn’t gone in Jason’s favor. 

So now, he’s in New York. He hadn’t picked the place at random. New York was somewhere that he felt confident in Bruce not showing up to. The Avengers were based here. Jason knows that they don’t really bother with most of the basic street crime, choosing to focus on the bigger threats to the world instead, so he’s not too worried about them. They were actually useful. Bruce would be far less likely to bring Batman to New York. It’s something that would likely spike the Avengers’ interest, and Jason figures that Bruce wouldn’t want them digging too close into who Jason is. It’d be too close to them figuring out who Bruce is, and Jason knows Bruce would rather pull the damn trigger on Joker himself rather than have Tony Stark know just who’s behind the Batman mask. 

Daredevil might pose a bit of a problem, but according to the files on the Batcomputer, the guy rarely leaves Hell’s Kitchen. So long as he stays out, he should be fine. 

So he’s gotten himself a nifty little safehouse in Queens. It’s not much, but it’s a place to stay, a place to lie low while he works on a new plan. It’s got a small living room, a so-so kitchen, an even smaller bedroom that would only really fit a twin sized bed, and a bathroom, but it’s enough for Jason’s needs. 

Right now he’s got a desk against the back wall, an old laptop sitting on it with several notebooks and papers scattered about. Jason doesn’t plan on just sitting here while he waits for things in Gotham to cool down. 

Jason squints down at the notebook he has in his hand. It’s an older notebook, and a small one, barely fitting in the palm of his hand. He frowns at the words written on the front page, titled “Goals”. 

1. Kill the Joker. 

It was scribbled out, but it was unfortunately an incomplete task. 

1. Take over Gotham’s criminal underground.

Jason’s also crossed that one off the list. He’d sort of accomplished that. He’d gotten control of a good portion of the criminal underground. Black Mask’s territory was a bit more of an iffy subject. He would have it if Bruce hadn’t crushed him under a building in their last encounter. As it stands… He’s pretty sure Black Mask is still in power, and he’s probably taken over what Jason’s gotten control of by now too. Fucking Roman. 

1. Ensure no one sells to kids.

Jason sighs, leaving it uncrossed. He’d been working on it. Until his entire plan had blown up in his face. He’ll keep working on it. Hopefully he’ll be able to cross that one off someday. 

1. Have Bruce kill the Joker

Jason sighs as he scribbles that one off. Now he knows that’s never going to happen. Bruce would rather drop a building on Jason than kill Joker. It makes his blood boil, his grip tight on the pen in his hand.

1. Kill Batman

Jason frowns at the words there before he hesitantly scribbles them off too. He’s pretty sure he’d written that one in anger a while ago. He hates Bruce. He does. But… Well, he’s not quite sure he can kill him. He’s killed a lot of people, sure, but… They were all people who had really, truly deserved it. And deep down inside… Well, Bruce might be a hypocritical and emotionless asshole, but he’s not nearly as bad as most of the people that Jason’s killed. 

And he’s just not sure he could do it. Not for lack of skill, but because… As much as Jason doesn’t want to admit it, Bruce is still his dad. 

Jason huffs and just decides to rip out the page from the notebook. He needs to reevaluate everything. A new plan. 

Bruce isn’t worth his time anymore. 

Jason sucks in a breath and clicks the pen, carefully writing on the new page. 

1. Take over the criminal underworld.

He was going to do that again. He’s sure he could do it. If he can take control of Gotham’s underworld again, he can fix it. He could. He was going to prove it, even everyone else thinks he’s insane for trying. He’d show them. 

He writes a two and just stares at it for a long moment. He presses his lips together for a long moment. 

1. Kill the Joker. 

He knows now that he can’t get Bruce to kill the madman. That was a pointless endeavor. But the Joker needs to die. And this time, there’s nothing that’s going to get in Jason’s way to do it. 

That was it, for now, Jason decides. He can focus on those two goals, and he could figure out what to do after that… Later. He hums, setting the small notebook down on his desk as he goes back to the computer.

If he was going to accomplish goal number one, he was going to have to do some research. 

***

Jason should have expected this, in all honesty. 

He’s been in New York for a while now. He figures the city is as good of a place as any to start his work. He’d work in Gotham, but… At the moment, it was probably best to leave Gotham alone until he has the proper resources. 

The thing about New York though, was that they had a Kingpin of crime. Jason’s done his research. Wilson Fisk. He’s good at keeping under the radar, that’s for sure. It’d taken Jason quite a while to dig up any evidence on him, and even then, he was still sort of going on a hunch with half of the stuff. There wasn’t a whole lot to connect the man to anything. 

Now, though, he’s in the man’s building, about to go in for a meeting, of sorts. Jason has a feeling he knows what this meeting is going to be about. Jason’s a new player, and these sorts of big fish don’t typically like having new players that aren’t under their thumb. 

He steps into the office after a couple of guards pat him down thoroughly. Fisk had said not to bring any weapons. Jason had complied. Mostly. He’s got a few tricks up his sleeve in case things go a bit south, but if he plays his cards right, they won’t be. He just has to remain calm. He knows what he’s doing. 

The behemoth of a man behind the desk when Jason walks in is a bit of a surprise. He’d read up on Wilson Fisk, knew that theoretically the man would be massive, but he’s never seen him in person before. He was much bigger than Jason thought he’d be. He stands up to greet Jason when he enters, looming over him in a way Jason hasn’t seen anyone do since he’d been fifteen years old. He was six two, and Fisk was making him feel like he was four foot seven all over again. 

The man holds out a hand that is frankly much too large to be human in Jason’s opinion, giving him a smile that makes him feel like he’s stepping on glass barefoot. Jason sucks in a breath, but he shakes the man’s hand. He wasn’t going to be intimidated that easily.

“Red Hood,” The man says curtly, and his voice is deep to boot. Not gravelly in the way Batman’s always was, but in a more natural way. His eyes are much the opposite of the rest of him, small and squinted under his massively bushy eyebrows that were angled down, and with a mouth that looks like it might permanently be stuck in a pout. 

“Fisk,” Jason nods at him. 

“Hm,” If Fisk is surprised that Jason knows his name, he doesn’t show it. He instead gestures to the chair in front of his desk. It’s a nice chair, Jason notes, though he supposes he should have expected that from the man. He certainly looks like someone who would waste no time in finding the best furniture for his office. 

Jason sits. 

Fisk sits too, plopping into the chair that squeaks a bit with the sudden added weight. He folds his hands over his desk as he looks at Jason. “Red Hood, I’m sure you’re wondering why I set up this little meeting.”

“I have a feeling I know what it’s about,” Jason shrugs nonchalantly, trying not to show any signs of being intimidated. He wasn’t worried by Fisk, not really. The man was formidable, and Jason knows this, but he also knows that he’s likely to underestimate Jason’s own abilities. Fisk lifts an eyebrow at him, not saying a word, but clearly inviting Jason to continue. “You don’t like that I’ve been encroaching on New York.”

“Not quite, but I suppose that’s a logical conclusion,” Fisk hums, leaning forward a bit. “I’m here to offer you a proposition.”

“And that is?” Jason frowns slightly under the helmet. 

“I’m not stupid, Red Hood. I know a formidable opponent when I see one,” Fisk shrugs, reaching down into a drawer. Jason stiffens a bit, not liking the fact that he can’t see what the man is rummaging through, but he relaxes a bit when he sees the man bring out two glasses. He sets them on the table, and then brings out a bottle of scotch to go with them. 

“I don’t drink,” Jason interrupts before he can pour anything. It’s not that he doesn’t drink, but he’s not going to impair his senses with Fisk in the room. Nor is he willing to remove his helmet. 

Fisk doesn’t argue, simply removes one of the glasses and places it back in the drawer. “You don’t mind if I have a glass.” He doesn’t word it like a question, more like a statement. Jason doesn’t particularly care. It’s none of his business if the man drinks or not. Besides, with how big he is, Jason has a feeling that one glass of scotch isn’t really going to do much. So Jason just shrugs and watches as Fisk pours just the right amount of scotch into the glass before he puts it away. 

“As you were saying. I’m formidable?” 

“Yes,” Fisk nods, taking a slow sip from the glass. His eyes meet Jason’s, and even though Jason knows he can’t see through the helmet, it almost feels like he’s looking straight into his very soul. He doesn’t like that feeling. “There aren’t many people who could just show up and take over three separate gangs out of nowhere, even if they are just small ones. And I’ve heard of you before. You’re the one from Gotham, aren’t you?”

“...I am,” Jason narrows his eyes. Fisk recognizing him could be very good, or very bad, but it certainly wasn’t something in between. 

“The one who supposedly killed Robin?” Fisk lifts an eyebrow at him. 

Jason hesitantly nods. Sure, Robin had survived, but most didn’t know that fact. And he hadn’t exactly made an appearance since then, either, probably still recovering. Not that it’s not helping Jason in this current moment. 

“I’d be stupid not to have you on my side,” Fisk hums, and Jason can get the message between the lines with his words. You’d be stupid not to be on my side. 

“And if I refuse?” Jason asks carefully.

“If you don’t get in my way, then nothing,” Fisk shrugs. “You’ll go back to taking over small gangs that I couldn’t care less about. But you should know that there aren’t many who survive getting in my way, and I have a feeling that a man such as yourself isn’t too good at keeping to themselves.”

“Fair enough,” Jason can agree with that. He’s never been too great at keeping himself out of trouble. Hell, he has a sneaking suspicion that he’s getting himself into a whole lot of trouble right now. 

Fisk nods. “And your answer?”

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice but to accept, now do I.”

“Red Hood, there’s always a choice,” Fisk leans forward a bit, his eyebrow raised. “You’re just making the smart one.”

***