Caught off guard by the sudden attack, he tried to react, but his feet felt rooted to the ground. There was no time to dodge. Instinctively, he threw his arms up as his muscles tensed, bracing himself for the incoming tackle at the very last second. His eyes squeezed shut in preparation for the impact.
But it never came.
The mountain wind howled past him instead, cold snow swirling through the air as silence settled around him once more. Slowly opening his eyes, he found nothing there.
No attacker. No movement. Just endless white snow and the bitter cold biting against his skin.
'I must be hallucinating again,' he thought grimly to himself, fully aware that his fractured mental state was beginning to worsen. Too much caffeine, with severe sleep deprivation, and days of exhaustion were finally catching up to him. At this point, he could no longer tell whether the shadows stalking him were real or simply the result of a mind on the verge of collapse.
A helicopter would have made his journey and the climb through the mountain range much faster, but he had deliberately avoided using one. Hiring a chopper—or worse, stealing one—would only create a trail. Right now, he was doing everything possible to erase his movements and leave behind as little evidence as he could.
Eventually, he arrived before a massive faded red gate standing tall against the snowstorm. Two enormous statues rested on either side like silent guardians, their forms carved into the likeness of ancient deities watching over the entrance.
Finally, he had reached the base where he last met Talia.
Though the area appeared deserted, the feeling crawling across his skin told him otherwise. He could sense eyes on him from somewhere beyond the walls.
"I'm here seeking Talia," he called out loudly, pulling off the scarf and head warmer shielding him from the cold. The freezing wind immediately struck his exposed face as he revealed himself openly.
No response came.
He remained standing there in the snow, unmoving as the silence stretched on for several long seconds before the gates finally creaked open from one side.
Without hesitation, he stepped through the narrow opening and was immediately greeted by several masked figures dressed in black.
"Jase?" one of them asked uncertainly as he stepped forward.
Jason gave a small nod in confirmation, and the others quickly removed their masks as recognition spread through the group almost instantly. They were fellow assassins—men he had once trained beside under Talia's guidance whenever he wasn't being personally instructed by Ra's or Lady Shiva.
"It's Jason…"
The words quietly echoed among them as more faces turned toward him in disbelief and recognition.
"This way," the former assassin said without another question, already turning to lead him deeper into the base.
Jason was escorted to a room fashioned in a traditional Japanese style, something born from Ra's al Ghul's refined tastes. In the center of the room sat a low table surrounded by cushions, and Jason lowered himself onto one of the pillows in the same disciplined manner Ra's had always insisted upon during his lessons. The familiar setting stirred an unexpected wave of nostalgia within him, drawing his thoughts back to the man who had carried him through what had easily been the darkest period of his life.
Ra's had given him purpose when he had none. He had taught him, guided him, and sharpened him with the patience of a father rather than the cold detachment of a master training another disposable assassin. Even now, surrounded by the quiet atmosphere of the room, Jason found himself remembering the countless hours spent meditating in silence beside him.
The sliding door eventually glided open, breaking him out of his thoughts as the assassin from earlier stepped inside carrying a steaming cup of herbal tea. Without a word, the man approached and offered it to him, his eyes briefly studying Jason's worn appearance.
"Here."
The exhaustion weighing Jason down was obvious enough for anyone to notice, though the assassin remained unaware that it ran far deeper than physical fatigue. It wasn't merely his body that was drained, but his mind as well.
"Thank you." Jason accepted the tea with practiced courtesy, the etiquette returning to him naturally after years of Ra's instruction.
As the warmth spread through his hands, something about the moment made him feel strangely young again, like a boy returning home after being gone for far too long.
"It's really good to see you again," the assassin admitted honestly as he sat across from him. "I still can't believe you're actually here. After what happened at Lian Yu, all of us believed you died after that insane stunt you pulled."
Jason lifted the cup for a slow sip before answering. "The last thing I remember was getting shot and falling into the ocean. After that… nothing. I don't even know if I managed to finish Deathstroke." His expression darkened slightly. "The next thing I knew, I woke up in Gotham with no memory of the last three years."
The assassin stared at him for a moment, visibly caught off guard by the revelation. For a few seconds, he seemed unsure how to even respond.
"You've really been through hell," he finally said quietly.
'I certainly feel like it.' Jason thought as he simply remained silent, letting the room speak for him.
"We never found Slade's body," the man continued. "Only blood. An unbelievable amount of it near the cliffs where the two of you fought."
His tone carried both respect and lingering disbelief before it eventually softened into something more sincere.
"But what you did that day… avenging the Head of the Demon after he fell to that traitor and his cowardly tricks…" He shook his head lightly. "You gave the League closure. The battle at Lian Yu became legendary among us, and your role in it placed your name among those the League truly respects."
The assassin looked directly at Jason then, the gratitude in his voice was unmistakable.
"Thank you for avenging the League."
The words carried genuine weight behind them, as though he wasn't merely speaking for himself, but for every assassin who believed Jason Todd had sacrificed his life for Ra's al Ghul as everyone of them would. Except taking on Slade was who was once an high ranking league member, was equivalent to suicide.
"There's no need for that. It was my choice to take on that role and avenge my teacher," Jason replied quietly.
His gaze lowered toward the surface of the tea as he brought the cup closer to his lips, only for his movement to abruptly stop. Reflected within the dark liquid, the corners of his own mouth slowly stretched into a sinister smirk that he himself wasn't making.
Jason immediately lowered the cup back onto the table with controlled restraint before lifting his eyes away from it, pretending not to notice what he had just seen.
"I came here looking for Talia," he said instead, steering the conversation elsewhere.
"I heard," the assassin replied. "Unfortunately, she isn't currently at the base."
The response hit Jason with a flicker of disappointment that settled heavily in his chest, but before it could fully sink in, the man continued speaking.
"Word was already sent ahead though. She'll return as soon as she can." That single reassurance eased something inside him almost instantly.
Ever since returning to Gotham, Jason hadn't felt even the faintest sense of belonging or family. Everything there had felt cold, distant, and hostile. Except his alone times with his emotionally challenged girlfriend.
Yet somehow, sitting inside this quiet room with a warm cup of tea between his hands stirred something he hadn't realized he missed. The heat seeped slowly through him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he could feel the constant tension in his nerves beginning to loosen.
"Thank y—"
"But not soon enough."
The sudden voice interrupted his words.
Jason's body stiffened as his eyes snapped upward, instantly locking onto the figure standing directly behind the seated assassin.
The Todd That Never Was.
The hallucination stood there with that same unnerving expression, looming over the man completely unnoticed like some malicious spirit that had crawled out from the darkest corner of Jason's mind.
"Are you okay?" the assassin asked, his concerned voice pulling Jason away from the edge of the daze threatening to consume him. He studied Jason carefully now, no longer able to ignore how off he looked. "You don't seem right."
The hallucination chuckled softly.
"You really think these people can help you escape me?" the figure mocked. "That's like trying to outrun your own shadow."
Jason subtly glanced toward the assassin again, watching closely for any sign that he could see the figure too, but there was nothing. No reaction. No alarm. Just concern directed solely at him.
"It's nothing," Jason answered calmly, forcing the words out as he reached for the cup of tea—taking a sip while doing everything he could to ignore the thing circling him like a predator savoring its prey.
Still, despite the torment clawing at the edges of his mind, he noticed something strange. The tension in his body really had eased somewhat. At first, he assumed it was simply because of the hot tea after traveling through the freezing mountain paths, but the feeling growing inside him was deeper than ordinary warmth.
It felt familiar.
Nostalgic.
The sensation reminded him of the herbal tea Ra's used to prepare before their meditation sessions long ago. Slowly, steadily, his body felt heavier, calmer, and more relaxed with each passing second.
Looking right at the man before him, Jason narrowed his eyes slightly and asked, "What's in this tea?"
The assassin shifted awkwardly at the question before answering, "Uhh, I noticed you seemed heavily sleep deprived, so it's an herbal blend meant to help calm and relax you. You should already be feeling the herbs taking effect by now."
"Yeah," Jason muttered as he slowly lowered the cup onto the table, his fingers lingering against the ceramic for a second longer than normal. "I'm definitely feeling something."
"It should help you relax while you await The Demon's Head," the assassin explained, sounding oddly satisfied with himself, as though he believed he had done Jason some kind of favor. Unfortunately for him, Jason didn't look remotely grateful.
Instead, Jason's expression hardened. The subtle exhaustion in his eyes suddenly carried a sharper edge as he looked directly at the assassin. "Okay, until The Daughter of the Demon arrives, I need you to listen carefully and follow my instructions exactly if you care about the safety of everyone inside this base."
The assassin frowned immediately, confusion flashing across his face at the sudden seriousness in Jason's tone. "What do you mean?"
"Get some sturdy chains over here right now and bind my limbs," Jason ordered, his voice sounding firm with urgency. "Then chain me to a solid pillar."
The assassin blinked at him. "Why would—?"
"There's no time to explain," Jason cut in sharply, irritation slipping into his voice as he rubbed at his forehead. "Just do what I'm telling you if you want everyone here to stay alive." He exhaled slowly before grimacing. "Shit… I'm starting to get really sleepy."
The urgency in Jason's voice finally got through to him. The assassin hesitated for only a brief moment before giving a stiff nod. "Okay." Turning toward the doorway, he quickly called out to one of the guards stationed outside the room.
As the door slid open, the assassin immediately began issuing orders for chains, locks, and an extra man to be brought over at once. There was enough urgency in his voice that the guard outside didn't waste a second questioning him, quickly hurrying off to complete the task.
The assassin turned his attention back toward Jason, silently searching his face for confirmation that this was truly necessary. Jason answered with a slow nod, though it looked increasingly difficult for him to even keep his eyes open. His eyelids had grown heavy, his focus unsteady, and whatever exhaustion he'd been suppressing for days was finally beginning to crush him all at once.
"Chain me up as fast as possible," Jason forced out, his voice sounded rougher as he struggled to stay conscious. "And don't let me free after I wake up saying I'm okay. Even if I…" He paused briefly, fighting through the haze clouding his mind. "Even if I ask you to let me out… don't do it."
The assassin frowned deeply at the warning. Used to carrying out strange orders without question, he still wanted enough information to understand the situation before it spiraled completely out of control. "If that's the case," he asked carefully, "when exactly are we supposed to release you?"
"I can't…" Jason started weakly, intending to explain that he had no idea when—or even if—he would wake up as himself again. But before the sentence could fully leave his mouth, his body finally gave out beneath him.
He collapsed onto the floor unconscious.
The tea had done exactly what it was intended to do. After days of operating on constant tension, paranoia, and almost no sleep, Jason's nerves had finally relaxed for the first time in a while. The sudden release of all that physical and mental strain hit him like a hammer, completely shutting his body down and knocking him out cold.
Moments later, the others returned carrying heavy chains and locks alongside a few more assassins. The one who had been speaking with Jason immediately moved toward him and crouched down beside the unconscious man, quickly checking for a pulse. Feeling the steady beat beneath his fingers, he let out a quiet breath before looking back at the others.
"He's alive," he confirmed. "Bind him. Quickly."
They worked quickly, binding Jason's wrists tightly behind his back before wrapping heavy chains around his upper body to pin his arms in place. Every movement was restrained as much as possible, the assassins making sure there would be little room for struggle once he eventually regained consciousness.
But just as they moved to finish securing his legs, Jason's eyes suddenly snapped open.
"He's awake," one of them immediately warned, tension flooding his voice as the room's atmosphere shifted in an instant.
"Hurry!" the assassin Jason had spoken to earlier barked at the others, urgency replacing whatever calm remained.
It was already too late.
With a sudden violent kick, Jason lashed out with both legs, the sheer force behind the movement sending the assassins around him flying backward and crashing hard against the floor. The chains rattled loudly as the room fell into stunned silence. For a brief second, nobody moved, too shocked by the raw strength behind the attack and the abruptness of it all.
Slowly, Jason sat upright.
His movements were unnervingly calm, almost lazy as he tilted his head slightly to the side. A series of sharp cracks echoed from his neck while he rolled it loose, like someone waking from a deep and satisfying sleep rather than collapsing unconscious only moments earlier.
Then came the smile.
It was subtle at first, just the faint curl of one corner of his lips, but there was something deeply wrong about it. Cold. Sinister. Amused. The expression alone was enough to make the assassins instinctively tense where they stood.
The assassin from earlier stared at him carefully and got a somewhat understanding as to what Jason had tried to warn him about.
This wasn't the same man he had been speaking to before.
The Hood had come out to play.
- - -
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Patrn— Da_suprememaverick