dcu: crimes at night
title: crimes at night
series: rich boy au
pairing: jason todd/dick grayson
rated: pg-14
note: you think i'd have learned my lesson about starting series but here's three for the fandom. maybe i've mended my ways?
There’s an unofficial truce between the criminal underbelly, law enforcement, and the vigilantes of Gotham during a heatwave. The underlying tensions that bind together a city as diverse and beleaguered as Gotham come to the surface and the heat saps away filters, fans tempers until something snaps and the world explodes. No one with a stake in the city wants chaos. It's bad for business, bad for morale. But there are still people who don’t understand and push on, feeding their petty ventures to a simmering public. That’s when Batman shifts from intimidation and prevention to investigation and strategic intervention. Which is really a fancy way for setting aside the cape and cowl for another type of costume, a different kind of performance to stop a threat before it gets on the street.
Dick’s just excited he’s in on it for once. More than in, really. He’s getting to run his own investigation. The last days of summer has the kids of Gotham swinging into party season that has spiraled from inane fun to terrifying, drug-induced nightmares when the new methamphetamine cocktail called candy pink hit the scene. Batman had tracked the drug from eastern shore into the city before the trail died without uncovering the distribution channels into Gotham. The drug’s composition gave no clues-lack of exotic plants toxins, or chemicals that could link it to one of their frequent flyers--and none of the families and gangs have taken credit too busy keeping their people in check until the city reached a normal level of calm. That's why Batman needs a Robin whose connections cross into the drug's market of overly entitled, underwhelmed and highly social teenage elite.
The heat has even permeated the subway system filling the rocking car with a dank, musky scent like the world’s dirtiest sweat sock. But the smells and angry grunts of the other passengers can’t bring him down. Dick's thumb swipes across his cell phone revealing a small tank trundling down a narrow corridor. To anyone looking over his shoulder, it might look like one of a thousand defense games played to pass the time, but it’s a Robin special. The display tracks a classmate he’d tagged, one who let a name slip at the last party Dick Grayson attended. He was on his way to Crime Alley now to find someone named Grady, and Dick is following him. Before midnight he’d have a location, visual confirmation, and if he’s lucky, an in on Grady’s distribution channels. All in the night’s work for Robin.
On screen, the tank exits the stage. Dick moves to the exit and waits a few beats putting distance and sweaty bodies shuffling through the subway station between him and his mark. He doesn't have to put a lot of effort because the kid doesn't look back once. Still, he counts to twenty before climbing the stairs leading to the street.
The air smothering thirty-second and Park West is thick with melting asphalt and the faint decay of the river that winds lazily near Old Gotham on its way down to the bay. The streets are dark, night finally having fallen on the city while Dick was underground. The block seems entirely too empty for nine-thirty, and the few people Dick spy are stumbling into their homes drunk from heat and alcohol. In the distance, he sees a flash of yellow turning the corner.
“Robin." Batman's voice draws him short. He raises the phone to his ear.
"Yeah?"
"There’s a domestic hostage event in Germantown.” Batman leaves it at that, letting Robin make the call.
“I’m good, B,” he mutters. “I’m at Park West moving to Thirty-Third following the. Shit!”
“Language.” Normally, Dick would grin at the British inflection Bruce’s voice took on certain words-Alfred’s influence comes out in the strangest and most telling ways-but not right now.
“Sorry, B. My tank just fell off the screen.” He taped at his phone and three Robin heads popped up scanning through the coordinates and data streams, trying to pinpoint his tracking signal. It fails, Red Robins jeering at him. He taps up another program to maybe figure out exactly what happened but. All he can see is that his tracking signal is dead. “This is. Not whelmed.”
“Do you need assistance?”
“Nah. You help the GPD. I’m good.”
“What's your next step?” Batman’s voice sounds quietly noncommittal which means he’s working at his own console with the same success, probably.
Dick grins and starts fluffing his hair up a bit. “Improvise.”
“I’ll continue to monitor you. Report in appropriate intervals. You have exactly two hours before you're expected at the cave.”
“Sounds good to me.” Dick ducks into the shadows. He pulls out a tiny vial and begins dropping some liquid into his eye. It stings a little, but it should be enough to give his eyes the strawberry bubble gum color that candy pink stained its victims with. He pulls at his tank top a little, rucking his clothes and hair until he looks reasonably disheveled before slumping his way down Park Row.
The signal ended somewhere around the brick and mortar businesses that line the street. Most of them closed, their glass storefronts blocked by grates and aluminum doors, none of which he’d heard opening or closing when he’d made it to the street. Not that that actually mattered. Some of the owners could do their own maintenance work and lube up the security gates. He starts to push against them as he walks staring up at the wheel mechanisms when the screech or give quiet groans.
Dick circles the block twice quickly at first on the chance that he’d see his classmate pass in front of a window or walk out of a door or something. He waits at the corner for fifteen minutes, gives Batman a quick rundown then starts down the street again. It becomes quickly apparent that he’s lost his lead. The pride he’d felt earlier evaporates quickly leaving behind an embarrassed pitch in his gut.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing right now,” Dick mutters to himself looking out into the street. Frustrated, he kicks a crushed can and watches it skitter into the edge of an alleyway. He follows it and picks it up, ready to toss it into the trash.
“Recycling don’t make it this far east, rich boy.” A voice calls out. “You can just leave it.”
“Uh. Hey?” Dick makes a show of studying the alley he just passed. “It’s not cool to make snap judgments about people. I could be from Park Row.”
“You open your mouth and uptown falls out,” the voice scoffs. It’s boyish, loud and not quite deep enough for the hard attitude it’s trying to project. “You’re not from around here. What are you looking for?”
“Maybe you can help me figure it out. Can you come here for a second?”
“What?”
“And you’re scared of me?” Dick teases. He spreads his arms out showing off his lean body and open grin. “Come on. I got a question for you.”
A boy swaggers into the light like the street was his stage and Dick his captive audience. And for a second, Dick is surprised by the look of him-a little taller than Dick first estimated, younger too, no more than sixteen and the closer he steps, Dick can see they’re nearly eye to eye. He’s got short dark hair that sweeps away from his forehead and eyes that blaze under the light. They’re narrowed emphasizing his distrust, his jaw is tight showing anger.
Dick lets his grin turn hopeful and held his hands up. “I’m just looking for something. Maybe you can help me?”
He stops just short of Dick and glares giving Dick enough time to take in his frayed cargo shorts and a sleeveless hooded shirt red shirt he’s wearing that’s slashed into a deep vee over his chest. He’s got a rangy thinness to him, the size of his wrists proclaiming there’s still more growing to do. He crosses his arms and draws himself up trying to loom over Dick. “What could someone like you be looking for on Park West?”
“Information, I guess? I was told I could find a guy down here to help me out with my uh. My problems. If you can. You know. If you know where to find um, Grady? I could help you out too. Maybe.” Dick keeps his movements nice and slow as he pulled a money clip out of his coat pocket. The clip itself has tracker placed in the bird’s jeweled eye and each bill is coated with a nanite solution that he can follow too. Either way, he’ll be able to track it back to the dealers.
He peels out a couple of bills making sure his hands shake a little to show he’s a properly intimidated. The kid’s face is closed off now, eyes hard, lips clenched like he’s insulted. Dick pulls out another twenty and folds them together. “Here. If you know where I can find Grady. Or if. You know. Here. For your help.”
The kid snatches the money out of his hands which is a good sign. Dick let’s his posture relax, his guileless grin form. He’s just a dumb rich kid looking for some trouble, no harm done. He’s embarrassed to say that he didn’t see the kid’s fist coming. He doubles over with a grunt then finds himself slammed against the metal grating along the closed store fronts.
Batman’s voice snaps, “report,” in his ear.
“I’m okay,” Dick coughs weakly, more startled than hurt. He holds up his hands palm out and presses his own body into the grating that swings and creaks behind him. His jaw is clasped in a surprisingly strong hand and twisted from side to side. Up close, the kid seems easier to read.
His eyes flicker as he studies Dick, they’re grey-green depths assertive and assessing. The corner of his mouth hitches up and then settles into a slight frown his brow furrows and now it’s his turn to look surprised, the most open expression Dick has seen on his handsome face. “Dude, what is your problem?”
“You’re not on anything,” he says flatly.
Dick blinks at him. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of candying himself up but apparently, he’d got it wrong. He’d have to go with honesty then. “Um. No?”
The kid sighs and suddenly he looks twenty years older, world weary, with eyes that has seen it all. It’s fascinating and Dick is already shifting to match this change, a new plan unfolding in his mind. “This is Red Hood territory. We don’t want you or your money here.” He shoves the wad of bills into Dick’s chest.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to say you needed my money or anything. I just. I’m just looking for this guy and that’s what you’re supposed to do right? I don’t. Why do you think I’m high or something?”
“Listen to me closely.” He pulls Dick upright and close until they’re a sliver away from colliding. “We don’t want drugs around here. You looking for Grady? Then you’re in the wrong neighborhood.”
He reaches up to flatting his hand over the kid’s fingers. “I don’t understand,” he whispers.
“Look, whatever problems you have at home can’t be solved down here, okay?” He settles back on his heels looking at Dick with a face torn between amusement and scorn. “And it’s fucked up that you think you can come here and get lost.”
“I’m not-“
“Do you even care what they’d do to us if something happened to you?”
“I’m sorry,” says Dick, because he does know.
“What?” The kid looks taken aback when Dick steps into his space again.
“I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I just. They told me to come down here and ask for a guy named Grady. I thought it’d be.” He scrubs the hair tickling his throat behind an ear. “Cool, you know. A rush.”
“Did you come down here for a bet?”
Dick shrugs in reply.
“You guys are all idiots. Look. There’s a platform right over there.” He points across the block where the curved entrance to another subway entrance looms. “Go home before you find someone who won’t be so nice.”
“This is you being nice?”
“This is me saving your ass. Go on.” He waves his hand. “You’ve got a good enough story now. It’s time for you to do stupid shit in your own home.” When Dick fails to move, he shoves him a few stumbling steps forward.
“But what about Grady?” Dick pleads.
“For real? Look, I’m doing you a favor. You don’t get on that train right now, then I’m going to give you a taste of what a guy like that would do to a pretty rich boy like you.” He shoves him again. It doesn’t sound like a threat coming from this kid but it worries him a little.
“Okay, okay.” Dick spins away, hands up again and walks backwards under the kid’s watchful eyes. “You gonna tell me your name? So I can really sell it.”
The kid puffs up visibly, shoulders straightening, mouth cracking into a sharp grin. “Red Hood.”
“This is your territory?”
“This is our territory and our home. Now get the fuck out of it. It’s been long enough. Maybe mommy and daddy will notice you’re gone. You can get attention from a whole lot of people now.”
“Okay, okay. I’m gone. And I really am sorry.” Dick throws a little wave before jogging across the street. He turns back in time to see the kid melt into the shadows. He’s got style, Dick’ll give him that. “I won’t forget you,” he shouts.
Across the street, the kid flips him off. Dick laughs and waves again, then jogs down the stairs. And he’ll find the kid again because he slipped a bill into his pocket.
“I’d expect you to sound a little more disappointed, Robin.”
“Nah. I’ve finally narrowed down where Grady’s influence ends in the north so it wasn’t a complete bust,” Dick mumbles. “Hey. Did you know about the Red Hoods?”
There’s a definite pause before Batman replies. “They haven’t made it onto my radar yet."
Dick’s laughter echoes in the empty station thankful that the night isn't a complete bust. "You're welcome.”
series: rich boy au
pairing: jason todd/dick grayson
rated: pg-14
note: you think i'd have learned my lesson about starting series but here's three for the fandom. maybe i've mended my ways?
There’s an unofficial truce between the criminal underbelly, law enforcement, and the vigilantes of Gotham during a heatwave. The underlying tensions that bind together a city as diverse and beleaguered as Gotham come to the surface and the heat saps away filters, fans tempers until something snaps and the world explodes. No one with a stake in the city wants chaos. It's bad for business, bad for morale. But there are still people who don’t understand and push on, feeding their petty ventures to a simmering public. That’s when Batman shifts from intimidation and prevention to investigation and strategic intervention. Which is really a fancy way for setting aside the cape and cowl for another type of costume, a different kind of performance to stop a threat before it gets on the street.
Dick’s just excited he’s in on it for once. More than in, really. He’s getting to run his own investigation. The last days of summer has the kids of Gotham swinging into party season that has spiraled from inane fun to terrifying, drug-induced nightmares when the new methamphetamine cocktail called candy pink hit the scene. Batman had tracked the drug from eastern shore into the city before the trail died without uncovering the distribution channels into Gotham. The drug’s composition gave no clues-lack of exotic plants toxins, or chemicals that could link it to one of their frequent flyers--and none of the families and gangs have taken credit too busy keeping their people in check until the city reached a normal level of calm. That's why Batman needs a Robin whose connections cross into the drug's market of overly entitled, underwhelmed and highly social teenage elite.
The heat has even permeated the subway system filling the rocking car with a dank, musky scent like the world’s dirtiest sweat sock. But the smells and angry grunts of the other passengers can’t bring him down. Dick's thumb swipes across his cell phone revealing a small tank trundling down a narrow corridor. To anyone looking over his shoulder, it might look like one of a thousand defense games played to pass the time, but it’s a Robin special. The display tracks a classmate he’d tagged, one who let a name slip at the last party Dick Grayson attended. He was on his way to Crime Alley now to find someone named Grady, and Dick is following him. Before midnight he’d have a location, visual confirmation, and if he’s lucky, an in on Grady’s distribution channels. All in the night’s work for Robin.
On screen, the tank exits the stage. Dick moves to the exit and waits a few beats putting distance and sweaty bodies shuffling through the subway station between him and his mark. He doesn't have to put a lot of effort because the kid doesn't look back once. Still, he counts to twenty before climbing the stairs leading to the street.
The air smothering thirty-second and Park West is thick with melting asphalt and the faint decay of the river that winds lazily near Old Gotham on its way down to the bay. The streets are dark, night finally having fallen on the city while Dick was underground. The block seems entirely too empty for nine-thirty, and the few people Dick spy are stumbling into their homes drunk from heat and alcohol. In the distance, he sees a flash of yellow turning the corner.
“Robin." Batman's voice draws him short. He raises the phone to his ear.
"Yeah?"
"There’s a domestic hostage event in Germantown.” Batman leaves it at that, letting Robin make the call.
“I’m good, B,” he mutters. “I’m at Park West moving to Thirty-Third following the. Shit!”
“Language.” Normally, Dick would grin at the British inflection Bruce’s voice took on certain words-Alfred’s influence comes out in the strangest and most telling ways-but not right now.
“Sorry, B. My tank just fell off the screen.” He taped at his phone and three Robin heads popped up scanning through the coordinates and data streams, trying to pinpoint his tracking signal. It fails, Red Robins jeering at him. He taps up another program to maybe figure out exactly what happened but. All he can see is that his tracking signal is dead. “This is. Not whelmed.”
“Do you need assistance?”
“Nah. You help the GPD. I’m good.”
“What's your next step?” Batman’s voice sounds quietly noncommittal which means he’s working at his own console with the same success, probably.
Dick grins and starts fluffing his hair up a bit. “Improvise.”
“I’ll continue to monitor you. Report in appropriate intervals. You have exactly two hours before you're expected at the cave.”
“Sounds good to me.” Dick ducks into the shadows. He pulls out a tiny vial and begins dropping some liquid into his eye. It stings a little, but it should be enough to give his eyes the strawberry bubble gum color that candy pink stained its victims with. He pulls at his tank top a little, rucking his clothes and hair until he looks reasonably disheveled before slumping his way down Park Row.
The signal ended somewhere around the brick and mortar businesses that line the street. Most of them closed, their glass storefronts blocked by grates and aluminum doors, none of which he’d heard opening or closing when he’d made it to the street. Not that that actually mattered. Some of the owners could do their own maintenance work and lube up the security gates. He starts to push against them as he walks staring up at the wheel mechanisms when the screech or give quiet groans.
Dick circles the block twice quickly at first on the chance that he’d see his classmate pass in front of a window or walk out of a door or something. He waits at the corner for fifteen minutes, gives Batman a quick rundown then starts down the street again. It becomes quickly apparent that he’s lost his lead. The pride he’d felt earlier evaporates quickly leaving behind an embarrassed pitch in his gut.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing right now,” Dick mutters to himself looking out into the street. Frustrated, he kicks a crushed can and watches it skitter into the edge of an alleyway. He follows it and picks it up, ready to toss it into the trash.
“Recycling don’t make it this far east, rich boy.” A voice calls out. “You can just leave it.”
“Uh. Hey?” Dick makes a show of studying the alley he just passed. “It’s not cool to make snap judgments about people. I could be from Park Row.”
“You open your mouth and uptown falls out,” the voice scoffs. It’s boyish, loud and not quite deep enough for the hard attitude it’s trying to project. “You’re not from around here. What are you looking for?”
“Maybe you can help me figure it out. Can you come here for a second?”
“What?”
“And you’re scared of me?” Dick teases. He spreads his arms out showing off his lean body and open grin. “Come on. I got a question for you.”
A boy swaggers into the light like the street was his stage and Dick his captive audience. And for a second, Dick is surprised by the look of him-a little taller than Dick first estimated, younger too, no more than sixteen and the closer he steps, Dick can see they’re nearly eye to eye. He’s got short dark hair that sweeps away from his forehead and eyes that blaze under the light. They’re narrowed emphasizing his distrust, his jaw is tight showing anger.
Dick lets his grin turn hopeful and held his hands up. “I’m just looking for something. Maybe you can help me?”
He stops just short of Dick and glares giving Dick enough time to take in his frayed cargo shorts and a sleeveless hooded shirt red shirt he’s wearing that’s slashed into a deep vee over his chest. He’s got a rangy thinness to him, the size of his wrists proclaiming there’s still more growing to do. He crosses his arms and draws himself up trying to loom over Dick. “What could someone like you be looking for on Park West?”
“Information, I guess? I was told I could find a guy down here to help me out with my uh. My problems. If you can. You know. If you know where to find um, Grady? I could help you out too. Maybe.” Dick keeps his movements nice and slow as he pulled a money clip out of his coat pocket. The clip itself has tracker placed in the bird’s jeweled eye and each bill is coated with a nanite solution that he can follow too. Either way, he’ll be able to track it back to the dealers.
He peels out a couple of bills making sure his hands shake a little to show he’s a properly intimidated. The kid’s face is closed off now, eyes hard, lips clenched like he’s insulted. Dick pulls out another twenty and folds them together. “Here. If you know where I can find Grady. Or if. You know. Here. For your help.”
The kid snatches the money out of his hands which is a good sign. Dick let’s his posture relax, his guileless grin form. He’s just a dumb rich kid looking for some trouble, no harm done. He’s embarrassed to say that he didn’t see the kid’s fist coming. He doubles over with a grunt then finds himself slammed against the metal grating along the closed store fronts.
Batman’s voice snaps, “report,” in his ear.
“I’m okay,” Dick coughs weakly, more startled than hurt. He holds up his hands palm out and presses his own body into the grating that swings and creaks behind him. His jaw is clasped in a surprisingly strong hand and twisted from side to side. Up close, the kid seems easier to read.
His eyes flicker as he studies Dick, they’re grey-green depths assertive and assessing. The corner of his mouth hitches up and then settles into a slight frown his brow furrows and now it’s his turn to look surprised, the most open expression Dick has seen on his handsome face. “Dude, what is your problem?”
“You’re not on anything,” he says flatly.
Dick blinks at him. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of candying himself up but apparently, he’d got it wrong. He’d have to go with honesty then. “Um. No?”
The kid sighs and suddenly he looks twenty years older, world weary, with eyes that has seen it all. It’s fascinating and Dick is already shifting to match this change, a new plan unfolding in his mind. “This is Red Hood territory. We don’t want you or your money here.” He shoves the wad of bills into Dick’s chest.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to say you needed my money or anything. I just. I’m just looking for this guy and that’s what you’re supposed to do right? I don’t. Why do you think I’m high or something?”
“Listen to me closely.” He pulls Dick upright and close until they’re a sliver away from colliding. “We don’t want drugs around here. You looking for Grady? Then you’re in the wrong neighborhood.”
He reaches up to flatting his hand over the kid’s fingers. “I don’t understand,” he whispers.
“Look, whatever problems you have at home can’t be solved down here, okay?” He settles back on his heels looking at Dick with a face torn between amusement and scorn. “And it’s fucked up that you think you can come here and get lost.”
“I’m not-“
“Do you even care what they’d do to us if something happened to you?”
“I’m sorry,” says Dick, because he does know.
“What?” The kid looks taken aback when Dick steps into his space again.
“I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I just. They told me to come down here and ask for a guy named Grady. I thought it’d be.” He scrubs the hair tickling his throat behind an ear. “Cool, you know. A rush.”
“Did you come down here for a bet?”
Dick shrugs in reply.
“You guys are all idiots. Look. There’s a platform right over there.” He points across the block where the curved entrance to another subway entrance looms. “Go home before you find someone who won’t be so nice.”
“This is you being nice?”
“This is me saving your ass. Go on.” He waves his hand. “You’ve got a good enough story now. It’s time for you to do stupid shit in your own home.” When Dick fails to move, he shoves him a few stumbling steps forward.
“But what about Grady?” Dick pleads.
“For real? Look, I’m doing you a favor. You don’t get on that train right now, then I’m going to give you a taste of what a guy like that would do to a pretty rich boy like you.” He shoves him again. It doesn’t sound like a threat coming from this kid but it worries him a little.
“Okay, okay.” Dick spins away, hands up again and walks backwards under the kid’s watchful eyes. “You gonna tell me your name? So I can really sell it.”
The kid puffs up visibly, shoulders straightening, mouth cracking into a sharp grin. “Red Hood.”
“This is your territory?”
“This is our territory and our home. Now get the fuck out of it. It’s been long enough. Maybe mommy and daddy will notice you’re gone. You can get attention from a whole lot of people now.”
“Okay, okay. I’m gone. And I really am sorry.” Dick throws a little wave before jogging across the street. He turns back in time to see the kid melt into the shadows. He’s got style, Dick’ll give him that. “I won’t forget you,” he shouts.
Across the street, the kid flips him off. Dick laughs and waves again, then jogs down the stairs. And he’ll find the kid again because he slipped a bill into his pocket.
“I’d expect you to sound a little more disappointed, Robin.”
“Nah. I’ve finally narrowed down where Grady’s influence ends in the north so it wasn’t a complete bust,” Dick mumbles. “Hey. Did you know about the Red Hoods?”
There’s a definite pause before Batman replies. “They haven’t made it onto my radar yet."
Dick’s laughter echoes in the empty station thankful that the night isn't a complete bust. "You're welcome.”