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The scent of crime alley was a distinct one. Death, sex, and drugs mingling in the air like a perfume of all the things a mother warned her children about. All the things Bruce warned him about, but also the exact same things he was exposed to time and time again. Though, that was Robin, not Jason, and Batman showed him those things not Bruce. because Bruce fucking Wayne would never intentionally expose his children to hazardous environments, Bruce Wayne is not a child abuser.
The smell burned through Jason’s nose from the rooftops as he sat on the ledge for a well deserved rest and dinner, some greasy takeout, before going on patrol. The Red Hood was tipped off about some kids running drugs for a local gang was going to check that out, but for now Jason was watching the sun set. There’s a certain beauty in watching the sun illuminate the crumbling, broken buildings. There’s art in it, he thinks.
Jason looks down at a crowd of people in a line for the local food bank, some of them had probably been in line since the sun rose, hoping to get something to last them and their families for the next week or two. food was hard to come by around here, even harder to find enough to last more than one person. But people made it work, or they died trying.
A scream cry broke Jason out of his haze and he braced himself and his pistol but it stopped as soon as it started. He stared down at the streets as he tried to determine where it came from, eventually his eyes pinpointed a small child and his mother. They were toward the back of the line, the chances of them getting anything from the food bank were slim. The woman was cradling thin boy close, God he couldn’t have been older 5 and he was still so tiny. The mother wasn’t much better, too-young looking and too-skinny and too scared, looking over her shoulder every few minutes as if expecting someone but gripping onto her child every ounce of strength in her. The scene knocked the breath out of Jason.
He doesn’t remember the last time someone held him like that, with that much love and ferocity. He can’t remember the last time someone rocked him to sleep when he was crying because of hunger, or any other reason if Jason was being honest. Maybe that one night with Bruce? when I had that nightmare about- No. Don’t think about that Jason shook his head, It doesn’t matter, He let it happen, He didn’t care, it doesn’t matter anymore Jason’s hands found his hair and started to pull “It doesn’t matter anymore, He doesn’t care, I don’t care, it doesn’t matter’ he started to murmur before he notices.
The sun is significantly lower now, the shadows are longer and more suspiciously bat shaped is Jason stares for too long, he wills his eyes to the ground, and therefore the too-young mom and her too-skinny baby boy(A soft hand gliding through his hand, the drug-sex-death smell, cold cold cold room, a ref mouth and blonde hair smiling at him, going limp-) and a hand slaps him out his car crashes of thoughts. A full body flinch encompasses Jason and for a second he forgets where he is (A cave?Warehouse?Alleyway?something about E-) but a firm head shake confirms that it just have been himself. Odd.
The sun is setting. Jason grabs his uneaten bag of food, certainly now cold, and shoved his helmet under his arm. He climbs down the fire escape and passes by the young mother, knocker her on the shoulder and shoving the bag in her face.
“What the fuck-“ her hand unconsciously goes up to protect herself and grabs the bag. Jason is gone before she can get another word out, he thinks he hears a confused “Thank you??” before he turns into alley way and shoved the helmet over his head.
The sun has set. The Red Hood stalks off to tend to business.