See No Evil: No Witnesses (ch. 47) (Patreon)

"Am I going to enjoy this conversation?" I asked warily, looking at Jason's scowl that seemed a little more intense than normal. That was worrying. That was the expression of someone that had bad news, and bad news was not something I wanted right now. Or, ever, really.

Jason looked away sharply before he offered a shrug, "I'm gonna enjoy it less than you." He stated with a sigh. That was good. For me, at least. But it did raise the question of what exactly this conversation would be about. I glanced up the stairs at the long line of people making their way through, most of which were starting to recognize me.

I jerked my head, gesturing for him to follow me downstairs, and Jason wasted no time jumping out of line and following me downstairs. There were a fair few complaints from the people behind us, but that's all they did. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, my gaze slid to a bar that took front and center of the new and improved Lowtown.

7th Heaven, a bar and grill. Tifa's bar and grill. It seemed like she really couldn't shake off her roots. Jason followed me inside, his eyes darting to the various locations that he had planted bugs, ones I had watched him plant. The bar was a quaint place -- Tifa had designed everything. Booths lined the walls, with standing tables dotted about between the long bar counter, behind which was a sturdy set of fully stocked shelves.

I recognized Sammy behind the counter. Most of the waitresses were either former prostitutes, or they moonlighted as them. Tifa was a pimp, but more often than not, the girls under her care found themselves with other work courtesy of Tifa. The few that didn't just seemed to treat prostitution as a way to make extra money. Though, there was talk about strip clubs to give those girls other options, just in case.

Sammy spotted me and I held up two fingers then pointed upstairs, earning a nod from her while Jason and I made our way up. The VIP lounge was fairly populated, so we headed up to the top floor to the private booth. Jason slid into the seat and immediately took the pose of a mopey teenager while I sat across from him, while I pretended that I had no clue about the bug that had replaced one of the screws in the table.

"What's going on, Jason?" I asked him when Jason chose to remain sullenly silent instead of volunteering the information he wanted to share. Jason remained silent for a few more moments as if he was reconsidering telling me at all. That started to raise some red flags even before he let out a sigh that sounded like it could have left him deflated like a balloon.

"It's… I need some help," Jason said, sounding like saying the words were as pleasant as pulling teeth. He scowled, seemingly pissed that he had asked for help at all, so I cut in.

"What do you need help with, Jason?" I asked him, placing my hands on the table so he could see them. I kept my expression earnest, but a theory was working up in the back of my mind. I didn't know much about the Young Justice timeline, but I did know that there was a five-year time skip between the first and second season.

And Jason died at some point during that time skip.

"Look, I'm… I'm leaving the country, okay? I found… I found my mom. And me and Bruce," he grimaced, "Look, things just aren't working out for me, so I'm asking you to help me get to Africa. My mom is a volunteer doctor over there." He explained as if he thought that was remotely enough information for anyone without a heap of metaknowledge to work with. But, based on his expression, that was probably all that I would get.

I didn't even think about it, "Okay," I agreed easily. So easily that it caught Jason off guard. His eyes narrowed into slits and he was about to jump out of his seat to flee for the hills, because he seemed to think that this was a trap.

"Jason, you're a friend. Kinda like an annoying little brother I never wanted. So like a regular little brother, I guess,” I said with a smile to take the bite out of the words. He frowned, but said nothing, "So, if you're coming to me to ask for help, then I'm going to help you. Simple as that. You might not be aware, but that's kinda a thing in Lowtown."

"Ha-fuckin'-ha," Jason muttered in response, still wearing a scowl but the tension in his body language eased away. "Asshole," he added in the same tone a normal person would say thank you.

I shrugged, "That's me. Do you want to talk? Are things really so bad with Bruce that you need to flee the country?" They weren't, I suspected. But, I put an edge in my tone all the same. If I didn't know that, then that would be the first question I would ask.

To that, Jason shook his head. "No, I don't want to talk about it. He didn't do nothing like that," he stressed the word, "It's just… I'm a street rat. It's like you said, you can take me out of Crime Alley, but you can't take the Crime Alley out of me. I just don't fit in the posh upper crust. Not like you do. Square peg, an' all. So, I found a lead about my Mom, so I'm leaving. Simple as that."

"If you're sure," I dismissed. Honestly speaking, Jason was… kinda doing something incredibly stupid. I understood the reasons why he was making this choice, and from his perspective, it even made sense, but at the same time that didn't make it less of a stupid overreaction. It was a decision rooted in his insecurities and born from a misunderstanding.

And I'm sure in a year or so from now, he'd look at this decision and realize what a dumbass he was being.

But, Jason wasn't the only factor in this.

"Not sure if you know this, but Sainthood Enterprises is starting up an aerial division," I informed him, earning a snort.

"I think at this point, everyone is expecting you to have a division for everything," he remarked. And he was right about that. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had a division for everything, and they all had subdivisions, and those subdivisions had subdivisions.

"So, we have a plane that you can use. Revy will drop you off wherever your Mom is, and provided things work out how you intend, she'll only hang around for a day or two at the most. If something does go wrong, then you call me or her or Tifa. We'll pick you up and we'll take things from there," I offered.

Jason mulled that over, "You think I'm making a mistake." He pointed out and I guess I didn't hide that well enough.

"You're talking to the wrong guy, Jason. Me? I hated my parents. The only good thing my dad did in his life was kill himself. Mom loved drugs more than she ever loved me. So… yeah, I don't get your attachment to a woman that you've never met before. But, that's my take on the situation," I told him, earning a dark look. Yeah, I knew that struck a nerve with him. "You should be talking to Bruce about this. Or, hell, Dick. Fleeing the country seems like an extreme reaction. But, if that's what you feel like you should do, then… Well, you're going to do it. One way or the other. I'd rather help you so I can be there when all of this goes horribly wrong."

"Asshole."

"You're welcome," I responded. "When do you want to leave?"

Jason offered a shrug, a look of some hesitation on his face. "Tonight. I should say some goodbyes first," Jason said before he stood up. He looked to me, his dark blue eyes displaying a thankfulness that he didn't voice. He offered a small nod before he started walking. I watched him go, brushing past Sammy as she went to take our order, and head out the door.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling a headache forming. If I left things alone, then that was going to end in a disaster beyond what I could fix. So, I couldn't leave it alone.

Standing up, I left the booth and exited the effective range of Jason's bug. Taking out a burner phone, I dialed a number. It rang twice before the person on the other end answered.

"Yeah?" Revy questioned, sounding like she just woke up. Which she probably had. I was building my deck of cards up my sleeve to use against the Court of Owls. It's why 2B wasn't guarding me at the moment. Her, Cass, and Revy were preparing for the Court. Miranda was helping me take the Narrows, while Tifa and I managed Lowtown's rapid expansion.

"What would you say if you got a chance to use your Christmas present and earn fifty million dollars?" I asked her, and I could hear Revy wake up in an instant.

There was a savage grin in her voice, "You are too damn good to me, V. Who am I popping?"

I leaned against the wall, my gaze set at looking at something far off in the distance.

"The Joker."

…

Jason Todd let out a shaky breath, his foot bouncing in place as he waited at a bus stop at the edge of the city. Despite all of his training, Jason found that he was nervous. Going to Vergil was the best bet -- using the Zeta Tube, or stealing one of the Batplanes would end with Batman tracking him down in no time. He would instantly know what was wrong.

But, his habit of running off when there was a fight came in handy. Bruce gave him his space because he learned that the more he tried to fix the problem, the more pissed off Jason would get. And Jason was good enough that he could shake the trackers that Bruce had on him… including the one that was embedded in his arm. That one, no matter how pissed Jason was, he hadn’t touched.

He wasn’t an idiot. In this line of work, a tracker like that was a lifeline. But, he wasn’t in that line of work anymore. He wasn’t Robin anymore. He was just Jason Todd, the fuck up and street rat. So, he took it out and left it in one of his safehouses so Bruce would think he was there.

It wouldn’t slow him down for long. It would just give him enough time to find his Mom, and… connect. A fresh start away from Gotham. From Bruce, Dick, Barbara, the heroes -- everyone. A real fresh start where there weren’t expectations that he couldn’t meet or a long shadow that he could never escape from.

Still, his foot bounced in place as the jitters got the best of him. This was worse than any mission. If things went how he wanted them to, then he wasn’t likely to ever see Gotham again. Bruce, after seeing that this was what he wanted, would relent. Probably. But, no matter what, this was where he and the Wayne family, and Gotham, went their separate ways. They just weren’t good for each other.

“Brat,” Jason heard a familiar voice greet him -- he looked over to see Rebecca Lee, better known as Revy. She wore a puffy jacket that went down to her shins, leggings, and a pair of knee-high boots. A cigarette dangled from her lips, and Jason saw the tell-tale signs that she was armed with several guns.

Jason got up. He kinda liked Revy. She was an escaped convict that should be serving in Blackgate for a life sentence without parole, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t like her. She was rough, callous, crude, and gave everyone shit. It was just the ruder she was to you, the more she liked you. “Hey, Revy,” he greeted in return, grabbing his bag.

“Ready to flee the country?” She questioned, letting out a cloud of smoke. Jason shifted his bag, his gaze looking beyond Revy to the light of Gotham. It was a pretty bad view of the city, admittedly, but it was the last time he would see Gotham. It was his last chance to call this off and go home to the Wayne manor.

Jason took in a deep breath and nodded, turning away from Gotham. “Yeah, I’m ready," he decided, turning his back to Revy. To his relief, she looked like she couldn't have cared less even if you paid her to try. He wasn't looking for sympathy or judgment. He made his decision, and he just needed some help seeing it through.

"Then follow me, short stuff," Revy ordered, walking by him with a careless wave. Jason fell in step behind her, idly wondering where the plane was. It shouldn't be a surprise that Vergil had one, even if his financial records didn't show that one existed. Every corporation and their mother was fighting to throw the most money at him. Land in the city was stupidly valuable and Vergil pulled off declaring billions worth of it as his private property.

Batman was stressing out about it. Which made him more irritable than he already was since he was trying to figure out how it was done. Which made their butting heads worse. Which made Batman's reaction to that rapist piece of shit with diplomatic immunity falling to his death way worse, since Bruce thought that he threw the piece of absolute filth off the roof.

It wasn't like he didn't get it. Jason knew better than anyone he had anger problems. And maybe if he hadn't found that file about his birth mom, something that Batman had hidden from him, he might have taken Vergil up on that idea of speaking to Dick about it or something.

Jason shook his head and followed Revy, deciding to shelf all thoughts about Bruce and his alter ego until he was in Africa.

However, that resolution quickly came to an abrupt end when something began to drop from the sky. Looking up, his jaw dropped -- Batman would have an aneurysm when he found out about the small stealth jet that looked like it had hovering tech in it. It was about the size of a sedan -- enough room for two people with a retractable wingspan. Dark gray in color, perfect for blending in with the night sky.

Jason had no clue where or how Vergil got his hands on a small private jet or anti-gravity tech. And, frankly, it wasn't his job to care or find out.

"Damn, you blue bloods really get to leave in style," Revy remarked as the top popped open, letting them both enter. "A jet. When I was your age, I hung off the back of a bus all the way to Mexico."

To that, Jason snorted, "Still not a blue-blood," he pointed out, settling into the admittedly comfortable seat. The hatch closed as the jet began to lift into the air, and once they were a couple of hundred feet up, the engine turned on. When people thought of stealth planes, they really got the wrong idea. Kinda like how people thought silencers made a gun soundless.

Stealth planes weren't completely silent. They made a lot of noise. However, that noise was localized. If your stealth plane was a hundred feet above the target, you were using it wrong. A high altitude would disperse the noise pollution, and if it was below a certain threshold, sensors wouldn't pick it up. With the anti-gravity tech, the small plane was probably the Batplanes' equal in terms of stealth.

"Why did you have to leave Gotham?" Jason asked, mostly to distract himself from the fact he was leaving the city behind. He barely noticed when the plane began to accelerate forward, going straight and up. Batman had theories, but nothing concrete.

"Did a hit on the Falcone family when I was a bit younger than you. Didn't find out until after he was dead. Would'a charged more than a hundred bucks if I had," Revy muttered.

Jason looked out the window, "A hundred bucks?"

"You know just as well as I do what a hundred bucks is worth to a street rat. At the time, I thought I was overcharging," Revy dismissed with a laugh.

"Did you kill a lot of people?" He wondered, watching the world go by him. An ocean separated him and his birth mom. Based on the speed they seemed to be moving, it wouldn't be more than ten hours before they arrived in Africa.

Revy answered his question with a dark laugh, "More than the courts ever managed to find out about." She answered, and he expected that answer, or one like it. Revy Two-Hands made her reputation in Gotham, and to make a reputation like hers, you had to stack bodies up high. The only ones the court managed to get her for was the murder of a police officer… who Batman, post mortem, discovered couldn't be more of a piece of shit if he tried.

Bruce always said that it wasn't their place to decide who deserved what. Jason always had his doubts about that. At times it really felt like they lived in two different worlds.

"'Course, it was also because I escaped from Blackgate by that time. Most of my savings got seized as evidence, but I couldn't risk anything too big or the cops would find me. For all the good that did," Revy continued. "So, if we're going to trade personal questions -- what the fuck is with you and your mom?"

Jason scowled, but he wasn't surprised, "She's… the last of the family I have. I couldn't hack it with Bruce. He thought I was broken, or something," Jason added. Maybe he was right about that. "That's why he took me in. He wanted to fix me." And when he saw that his experiment failed, he took Robin from him. Wouldn't be long before he got kicked out, so might as well leave on his own terms.

"Family doesn't mean a damn thing, brat," Revy remarked, an edge in her tone. It was easy enough to guess why considering her history. Her father had sexually abused her, so she killed him when she was ten years old, based on the year of his death.

Jason sighed, "I'm not expecting for us to fall in each other's arms, crying and shit. I'm…" he trailed off, unable to continue. That might not be what he expected, but he could admit that's what he wanted.

Revy chuckled, "Yeah, that's what I thought." She said, and after that, they traveled in silence. Luckily, he had brought a book to read -- Monte Cristo. A favorite. Slowly, as the hours ticked by and as they moved into another time zone, the sky began to grow lighter until the sun was shining.

It was early morning when they arrived in Africa, near the border of Ethiopia where his birth mom was stationed for relief efforts. He didn't know much about Sheila Haywood. She was a doctor that worked for a group of doctors that traveled around the world to give medical care to people that needed it. She used to have a clinic in Gotham, so Jason imagined she'd be pretty similar to Dr. Thompkins.

Getting out of the plane, Jason stretched and glanced at Revy, who quickly started tearing off clothes with complaints that it was way too hot. She settled for a tank top and a pair of extremely short denim shorts. She was going to end up with a pretty bad sunburn, but Jason didn't say anything. Though, he did notice the look on her face.

There was a slight smile that curled at the edges of her lips. It didn't reach her eyes, which seemed completely devoid of all human emotion. She turned around, looking at Jason, "Well? Get goin'. Find your mommy and pray that she's worth the fuel."

Jason frowned, "You aren't coming?" Vergil said that she would stick around.

Revy scoffed, "I'll be around, kid. I just don't care about your family reunion," she explained. That sounded like her -- following the letter of what Vergil said, not the spirit. Jason looked away, off in the direction of the camp that his birth mom worked in. He sucked in a deep breath and started walking, forcing his feet to move without saying a word of goodbye or thanks. If he thought about it, he might second guess himself. He made this decision, so he was seeing it through.

No matter what.

Jason found himself walking down a winding dirt path that seemed to get a lot of use. It wasn't long before he saw the red cross flag that announced their presence. Beneath it were tents that were crowded around a mud-brick house. Farm animals were wandering about, so it looked like someone lived there. They were just letting the doctors operate on their land.

Taking out a pair of binoculars, he gave the place a quick scope out, searching for-

He found her. A tall blonde haired woman with her short hair cut in a poorly maintained bob. Early to mid-thirties -- evidence to his theory that she gave him up to pursue a career in medicine. Why she never came back…

She wore a tan shirt and loose pants. She was dressed for the weather, as were the various other doctors. It was her. Sheila Haywood.

Jason lowered his binoculars and swallowed thickly. This really was the very last chance to back out. Once he walked down there, there would be no going back. He knew that. Yet, his feet began to move of their own accord, carrying him down to the cluster of tents. A few people glanced his way, some faintly puzzled, but he ignored them.

It was almost like he was a magnet. He was drawn to Sheila's tent, pulled in that direction with a force he couldn't describe. Jason lingered at the entrance, but he reached out to push the flap back, revealing his birth mother. Her back was turned towards him as she quickly jotted something down on a clipboard.

She seemed to sense him because she turned around, her dark blue eyes meeting his. She put on a practiced smile, "Can I help you?"

Jason returned the smile with a shaky one of his own.

"I… think so."

…

Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. "This is so fucking boring," Revy muttered to herself, sweat clinging to her body and soaking her tank top and shorts. Vergil gave her some super-proof sunscreen so that was one thing she didn't have to worry about, but fuck -- Africa was a miserable and boring place. Just sand and dust everywhere. Honestly, Revy wasn't even sure if it was worth fifty million to park her ass on a vantage and watch as Robin, or Jason Todd, made the stupidest mistake of his life.

Revy didn't even need to smell that cunt to know she was rotten. She didn't even need to have Vergil give her the breakdown that she was stealing drugs from a relief group and selling them. That was as good of a hustle as any, and Revy wasn't exactly in a position to throw stones, but that bitch was also working for the Joker.

She might have left Gotham before the Joker began his special brand of terrorism, but she hated him all the same. He seemed to be the literal embodiment of everything wrong with the city.

"Where are you…" Revy muttered, her sniper braced against her shoulder. It really was something special -- it was the equivalent of putting a fifty-caliber sniper in a BB gun. Incredibly lightweight. She had wailed on the thing with a hammer and not so much as a scuff, and with the silencer on the end, she could shoot the thing next to someone's ear and they wouldn't hear a thing. Revy preferred things that went bang and boom, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate subtly.

The scope was a thing of beauty too. Infrared, night vision, and automatic tuning for the perfect shot every time. The bullets? Oh, the bullets. Explosive hollow points with a protective shell for accuracy -- a hollow point that hits with the force of a 50. Cal. There wouldn't be anything left of the Joker.

Revy was in love with the gun. She'd fuck it, if she could. And after it was used to make her fifty million? She just fucking might.

A flash of movement caught her eye off in the distance. She looked over to see it was a humvee. No doors, no rooftop, and untinted glass. It looked like shit, but so far, everything in this godforsaken hellhole looked like shit. She zeroed in on the driver. Military. Merc, most likely. A protective vest that wouldn't do shit.

Sitting next to him was her target. Pasty white fuckhead, hideous lime green hair, and ruby red lips pulled into an impossibly wide smile. He wore a brightly colored suit complete with a flower in his breast pocket.

The Joker.

One of the most wanted terrorists on the planet after his stunt with the Injustice League. And fucking honestly -- ten billion dollars? That's the ransom he asked for when he had every fucking major city on the planet held hostage? What the actual fuck? A hundred billion was the starting mark if you were feeling especially charitable that day.

Screw the money. She was killing this moron for being too stupid to let live. The fifty million would just be a lovely bonus.

Revy's lips curled into a smile, her crosshair lining up with the dot that the scope recommended. She took in a slow breath…

Then she pulled the trigger.

The sniper rifle kicked her shoulder like a mother fucker, but that was the only hint that the rifle had fired at all. She didn't so much as hear a whisper of a shot.

But it fired.

It sure fired.

The Humvee swerved, the Joker's body falling out because he was also too stupid to wear a seat belt. To Revy's faint surprise, he managed to find his way to his knees, regardless of the very wide hole that had been punched through his stomach. Blood dripped down his face, his green eyes somehow meeting hers despite the half-mile of distance between them. He didn't stop smiling.

Neither did Revy as she put another hole through his heart. His body snapped back with the force of the shot. And, unceremoniously, the Joker was dead. A silent ending that no one would witness. Well, there would be no one after she killed the witnesses.

Her next shot took out the engine of the Humvee, and her next two put the soldier down like the dog he was. There was no one else in the vehicle.

"Here comes payday," Revy said, standing up. She reached into her bag and pulled out a square of latex feeling material. Unfolding it revealed a very loose gimp suit -- Vergil explained the reasoning for it, but it felt weird as hell to put on. It was loose up until Revy pressed a button on her wrist and it suddenly became form-fitting. She should have gone nude because her tank top was incredibly uncomfortable while wearing it. And her shorts were riding up her ass.

But, at the very least, it was cool. Latex and not sweating her tits off didn't really go hand in hand, but Revy learned not to question Vergil's special brand of bullshit. Securing the face mask that was clipped to her suit like a helmet before pressurizing, Revy made her way down to the bodies.

She approached low, her previously white gimp suit adopting a tan coloring. Camo. Cass got the invisibility suit, sadly. Revy couldn't wait until Vergil realized what she had been using it for. Despite his best efforts, there were still secrets in Lowtown, and Vervil had a blind spot a mile wide when it came to people he cared about.

It didn't take her long to reach the bodies. The merc was a no-name asshole. The Joker…

He died with a smile on his face, his eyes staring straight up at the unrelenting sun above them. His blood-soaked the ground, pouring from the wound in his gut and his heart. She kicked him in the balls a few times to make sure he was really dead.

"What a pathetic showing," Revy remarked, crouching down next to him as she began to secure the body. Vergil said to kill everyone around the Joker. Apparently, he had found ways to turn people into him upon his death. Sounded like bullshit to Revy, but Vergil hadn't exactly proven that his paranoia was unwarranted with Batman and now the Court of Owls. So, if he said it, then the least she could do was give him the benefit of the doubt.

She shoved his body into a body bag, and much like her gimp suit, with a press of a button, it vacuum sealed. Very convenient. After dumping some chemicals on the blood that had soaked into the sand and kicking a layer over it, Revy hauled the corpse to the plane and shoved the Joker's body into the trunk.

Easiest money she ever made.

All that was left was to babysit the brat. Who knows? Maybe without the Joker's interference, Jason just might get a happy ending after all.