Chapter Text
“Let’s just try walking in and talking first,” Dick said, looking away from the entrance of the MMA gym and towards Jason.
“Yes. Because Gotham is famous for loving masked vigilantes,” came the latter’s response, obviously sarcastic despite the modulator of his red helmet.
"I’m just saying—maybe we don’t start by punching everyone." Dick stood up from where he was crouched on the ledge of the building opposite the gym.
"Fine." Jason stood, too, following the other man’s eyes to the glass doors on the other side of the street, where a middle-aged man stepped out.
"If this goes sideways, I’m telling Bruce it was your call," Jason said after another beat. His comment was met with a sigh and a momentary silence. Having known Dick long enough, Jason knew that silence meant that the blue and black-clad man was rolling his eyes.
"We’ll go through the front doors. Less creepy if they see us coming," Dick said after a moment of silence.
Once Jason had given his nod of agreement, the two hopped down onto the fire escape on the side of the building and climbed down. Nightwing landed on the ground first, his feet making no sound, as if he was weightless. Red Hood came after, his boots landing with a steady ‘thud’.
"If we’re lucky, most will have gone home by now, so there won’t be a big scene," Dick said lightly as the two straighten up. Dick was clearly more optimistic about this than Jason. Or it was the fact that Barbara was waiting for Dick to celebrate their six-month anniversary. Which Jason knew meant dinner and sickeningly sweet cards.
The street echoes with the sounds of Crime Alley two streets over, and the faint thump of music coming from the bright inside of the gym.
From the mat where you were supervising the last few minutes of sparring, you spot two tall figures across the street. Nothing was unusual about this; running a gym just a few streets over from Crime Alley, you saw enough shady crooks walking past. But what made you double-take wasn’t the large statue of the two men, but the circular, egg-like shape of the man on the right’s head.
As the two men stepped out of the shadows of the alley across the street, you instantly recognised them as the most-of-the-time cheery Nightwing and the infamous Red Hood.
"No. No, no, no, no. You are not coming in here," You say, stepping in front of them as Nightwing opens the glass door to the gym, and the two vigilantes set foot in the gym.
Nightwing took a short step back when you stepped up in front of him, leaving him standing just in front of the slightly taller man.
"Whatever this is, it’s not coming through my door," You say firmly. You couldn’t name all the places that had shut down after one of the many bats had come by and scared off all business permanently. And given the location of your gym, most of your business was petty criminals. Not that you knew which ones were criminals—you didn’t need to know. As long as it was all civil inside your gym, it didn’t matter if some of them stole from the rich occasionally. You, too, were just trying to survive, so you couldn’t shame someone for grabbing the first thing in sight to stay afloat.
"I’m not letting you in without a warrant." You knew they didn’t have a warrant; the bats rarely ever worked with the Gotham police. So they’d have no choice but to—
Red Hood stepped forward then, stepping up real nice and up close to you. "We’re here to train, then," He said. You couldn’t see anything past the red helmet. The whites, of which his eyes were hiding behind, were opaque (you briefly wondered how clearly he could see through them).
Beneath the helmet, Jason’s eyes furrowed slightly. You didn’t step back when he got all up in your space, your hands didn’t shake, your voice didn’t tremble; how were you so confident?
"Mat’s full, sorry," You say, not even looking back over your shoulder to check if the mat was full. Which it in fact was not.
"Okay, listen, lady. We can talk here, or we can talk somewhere quieter. And based on who you have training here, you wanna talk somewhere quieter," Red Hood said, nodding briefly to the mat. You knew most of the people who came to your gym were criminals, even if you didn’t necessarily want to know. And if whatever the two vigilantes wanted to talk to you about was about their crime-busting business, you knew it was best to let them in.
The door to your little glass office clicks shut as Nightwig closes it behind him. With the desk, there was barely enough space for you and the two large vigilantes.
"Here’s the dealio: we’ve been tracking a weapon courier for the past three months. And it seems like your gym is being used to move small, high-value items. Gun components, modified triggers, compact explosives… sound familiar?" Nightwing explains as his larger, redder counterpart examines the office.
There’s a moment of silence as you process what Nightwing just said. Your gym was being used to move weapons. And from the look on the blue and black-clad man, he thought you were organising it.
You tried to tell the two men that you didn’t know what they were talking about. But it seemed the vigilantes heard that a lot, because neither batted an eye.
By the time you had managed to convince them you weren’t actively transporting heavy weapons, the class you had been instructing was nearing its end, and so was your fuse.
"I’ll let you go through bank statements or the lost and found or whatever. But tomorrow, before I open the gym. I don’t need you driving out all my business." Dick had to push himself against the wall as you strode past him and Jason with a surprising firmness.
It seemed there was no more talking to you now; Jason was a big man, but the look in your eyes was much bigger.
"You sure you’re good to go back tomorrow alone?" Dick straightened up as he climbed up the fire escape again.
"Yes," Jason answered. To anyone else, Jason’s voice would have sounded the same as it always did. But to Dick, who had known Jason since Bruce brought him in when he was 12, Jason’s voice was distant.
"Thanks, Jay. I’ll let Babs know you’re still on for dinner next week." Dick flashed his usual charming smile before stepping onto the ledge and shooting his grapple gun. Once the grapple head pulled the line taut, Dick was off, flying through the Gotham night.
And that night, while Dick was off undoubtedly getting laid, Jason sat crouched on the rooftop across from the MMA gym, watching the owner with a steel stance and cute sternness close up for the night.