When Jason went into his room he couldn't believe his eyes. Or, well, maybe he could. Damian had gone missing- which wasn't surprising since he probably freaked out upon realizing he was in Jason's hideout of all places. Still, his chest ached when he remembered the state he had found his brother in.

He had set up a plan with one of his informants who was supposed to be there, they were supposed to arrive and make contact with this new drug that Red Hood had been hearing about on the streets. Hell he didn't even realize it was the same drug Robin was looking into. But when it had been a few hours without any replies- Red Hood had decided to take it upon himself to go ask what was up.

What he didn't expect was the bloody carnage that painted the entire condo. It made him gag seeing the gore of random people- not even because they were dead, but because of how brutal the kills were. Even shit fucks like Bane had more class.

Red Hood was careful with his movements, he wanted to make sure he could document all that he saw. The people there needed avenging, and he was just the type of guy to do it.

When he did eventually check his phone he noticed a name, picture, and address of the biggest lead for Robin's case from Nightwing. Which just so happened to be the building he was in. "Uh oh, spaghettios... that cannot be a good omen," he mumbled as he decided to play detective instead. If he could find that Terrance guy then he could confirm that the lead is dead, if he found him alive or not there then hey- there's hope.

The taste in the air was metallic- it barely filtered through the helmet he wore. The same color as the insides that were splattered on the wall by his head. He shivered his timbers before continuing his mission. It would be easier to check all the rooms from the first floor up. So that was what he did. He took his time inspecting each body and comparing them to the photos he had- but was coming up unlucky. There was one thing he noticed though, and that was a specific kind of pill that seemed to be in a wrapper with an animal's head on the package placed around the bodies. Were they there when they died or placed after like a message?

Disgust filled Red Hood's body as he tore his eyes away from the brutalist display of morbid art. Glass and fractured splinters cracked beneath his heavy boots. The sounds of him stomping up the stairs to the next floor echoed. He wasn't scared of anyone being there- he had guns and weapons. From what he had seen no one used one.

"Maybe they ripped each other apart? There's so much blood all over the damn place I can't even tell what went on," He muttered to himself, making mental notes about his hypotheses.

By the fourth floor he was starting to get numb from the scene. He had unfortunately found his contact with his throat slit- which was a different kind of death than the others. By investigating his body it seemed it was self-inflicted. Fuck if I saw people getting shredded and I was weak as fuck I'd kms too.

Still no signs of Terrance either, which was a pain. Largest lead turned into the biggest suspect? Nah, he couldn't picture the stiff in a suit being capable of such a gruesome thing. Especially when he would easily be the most obvious one.

His nose twitched from under the helmet, was there something burning? Making his way down the hall and stepping past the usual guts and whatnot (old news) he entered the room where the scent was coming from. What he didn't expect to see was Robin kneeling on the floor, body covered in blood.

"Fucking hell- Robin!" Red Hood shouted, running into the room and crossing the evidence of a short lived battle. I should've figured he was here, there were damn bloody footprints on the railings. He made it to the youngest bird and he crouched down in front of him. Robin was unresponsive. Staring blankly at a spot on the floor. Red Hood swore under his breath and reached down to grab the end of the black and yellow cape- bringing it up to wipe blood from the boy's face. By his first look at it, he could tell someone already did. Could have been by himself- but he doubted it by the bruising left on one of his cheeks in the shape of a thumb.

"Ja... Jason?"

That got the vigilante to stop what he was doing. Damian's voice sounded so small, so shaky, it wasn't what he ever expected from him. He sounded like a child, an actual child that had been crying out for help. He swallowed through the tightness in his throat, finishing the job of cleaning, "I'm here, demon, I'm here," he assured. At that, Robin had fallen forwards into his arms.

What the fuck happened here?

Red Hood carefully adjusted Robin around until he was certain the boy didn't have any serious injuries. The man could tell Robin was going to have a bruised throat and would have difficulty speaking for a few days, and as he checked under the uniform he saw an ugly red and swollen palm sized handprint on his chest. He'd have to get a closer look but he was certain that it was most likely bruised or broken ribs. One thing he noticed was the bruise on his chest was different from the one on his face. Something happened here. Robin was lifted safely onto Hood's back where he had a solid grip under him.

Then, he looked in the area where Robin had previously been staring like he couldn't bring himself to look away. There was a lingering scent of meat, which couldn't be good. There were also scorch marks, aligned in a way where it wasn't a random fire. It looked way too targeted and contained. I'll keep this and the bruise a little secret for now... "You owe me some answers, kiddo," he said to his little brother, getting the both of them to his motorcycle- where he drove off like a bat outta hell.

Pacing around his room now, he wondered just where the fuck did the brat go? How did he escape without Jason even knowing? He literally just checked on him not even ten minutes before- Stopping in place, Jason got a frown on his face as his aquamarine eyes narrowed in frustration. "He must have overheard my conversation with Bruce, fucking shit," he grumbled, rubbing his neck in preconceived annoyance. Annoyance that would come with telling the rest of the Batfam that the littlest had disappeared.

"Fuck shit fuck. Alright here I go..." Jason honestly didn't like interacting with them. He didn't consider them family, didn't consider Bruce a father, didn't consider Dick or Tim as brothers, didn't really bother with letting himself get too attached to them. But he knew that family was important to Damian, and well, he had a bit of a soft spot for him.

I mean, he practically raised Damian whilst he was still with the league. That just made his attachments way more complicated. Neither of them spoke about it, neither of them even told the rest of the gang about their shared history. Damian barely looked at him and when he did his eyes were full of hatred.

Which, Jason felt like he sort of deserved, as he did leave the island without telling a soul to live out his revenge mission. Unfortunately, nothing truly came into fruition. He reunited with Bruce, sure, same with Dick- got to meet Tim and boy was that awkward, but he wasn't the same kid he once was. Only Alfred got to have even the nicer side of him, because duh it was Alfred and he'd shoot anyone in the face if they so much as raise their voice at him. Even knowing that Alfred was more than capable of protecting himself. Grandpa supreme, as Dick and him used to say.

But other than that, Jason kept his distance. Only showing up occasionally for brunch, showing up if he was called for help, and also the times when he just randomly swung by to check up on the demon spawn- but covering it up as meeting with Alfred or whatnot. Damian would be pissed if he found out Jason was keeping tabs on him (or so he thinks). Usually those days ended with him picking a fight with Bruce or Bruce starting shit by complaining about his ethics or whatever.

This was a whole different situation, though. This was Jason walking into the manor with people who all also equally fussed over the tiny ex assassin and informing them he sorta lost him.

Dick would especially have his head. If only he knows about me and his precious baby bat's past, Jason thought with a devious smirk. Sometimes he enjoyed having something over Dick even if the man didn't know about it. It was better that way anyhow, he did NOT want to get in a childish fight over who was the more involved brother. Besides, Jason would willingly hand Dick the crown and title. Jason was a less than perfect brother, and at least Dick does more than just try . The man took legal guardianship over Damian and the squirt didn't even know the why or the how-.

"Fuck this..."

Arriving at the manor was always nerve wracking, and it definitely never got easier. Pulling up to the superficial building just made his stomach sink. So many memories in that place and yet it never truly felt like home. Something he figured Damian agreed with, despite the attempts of the others.

At least that was what he hoped, he wasn't around much to see... but he figured Dick and Alfred would be on top of that shit.

Parking his bike right out front, he kicked down the stand and made sure it was steady before removing his non-primary colored helmet and fastening it to the handles. When he looked up he already noticed Alfred opening the door and greeting him with warm eyes, "hello Master Jason," he had greeted politely, yet the tone indicated a deeper emotion. It had been a while since he was last there.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his, "hey, Alfred, anyone home?" He asked, walking up the white marble steps and into the entryway. The foyer was grand, a chandelier, giant family portraits, flowers in ornate pots, you name it. One of the portraits was of him, and he glared at it every time he saw it. Never once did he ask for it to be removed though, as Alfred had once made a comment about it being a favorite of his.

"Master Bruce, Master Dick, Master Tim, Master Duke, and Miss Stephanie," Alfred replied, shutting the large doors behind them. It closed with a heavy thud and suddenly Jason felt like a little boy again.

Sighing softly, the man crossed his arms, "I'm surprised that many are here, it's not even Sunday," he spoke as he aimlessly walked towards the living room. It wasn't really a question that needed answering, they all probably heard about the scene Jason had walked in on and were probably trying to figure out what to do in terms of a plan.

They're gonna have to pause those... Jason thought bitterly.

As he made it to the large living room that had a long black couch and two armchairs, he saw that they were occupying those seats. They looked up, surprised to actually see him. Tim spoke up first, "look what the cat dragged in. Cat being Damian, it's fitting," he said playfully, though his voice was rather monotone. The playfulness was in his eyes though.

Jason snorted, "yeah... so about that," he looked around the room, Alfred had walked in as well, definitely assuming it was important if Jason had come back and wanted to talk to everyone.

Dick's expression immediately twisted into one of extreme worry, a damn mother hen, "is he okay?! Were his injuries worse than you thought?! Did he wake up yet?" He fired question after question and it just made Duke pat his pack as if he was consoling a mother who found out her child had a tummy ache and was sent home from school.

Stephanie leaned against the arm of the couch, "did you dig up some dirt at the crime scene after all?" She also questioned. Jason's eye twitched, honestly she got on his nerves a lot.

"Well gee, if only you would let me talk I'd love to be able to get to the damn point," Jason quipped, shrugging his shoulders with a little bit of drama and flair. Which was usually Dick's thing, but hey he picked up some things by believing the oldest was his dream big bro as a kid.

Bruce lifted a hand to quiet them all down. God he makes me want to punch him in the face. Bruce had a persona that was wildly different than his Batman one. Batman was truly who he was, Brucie Wayne (as he and the rest of the fam liked to call it), was a ditzy playboy who just kept taking in kids because he had sooo much wealth he didn't know what to do with it so he wanted to share it with those in need or deserving of it. Jason's first days in the manor after being adopted was a media nightmare. He had been labeled a Crime Alley rat, dirty boy, greedy, etc. Whatever the tabloids could think of- they'd write. Somehow Bruce always ended up on top in every scenario and it boiled his blood.

The day Bruce punched Dick in the face radicalized Jason, even moreso when he wound up dead and came back to life to see his so-called father defending his murderer. It was a sick and twisted kind of codependency that not even the most skilled therapist could untangle. A web that was so strong it could not be broken. Forever intertwined for the worst.

It was bad enough that Dick nearly killed Joker way back when he first found out what happened. It was bittersweet that the guy who was also just a kid, only a few years older than him, would feel more protective of him than his own adoptive "dad", but that was just who Dick was. Which was why Jason knew he was perfect for the job of being Damian's big brother.

"Damian escaped, dunno how, happened- like ten minutes before I called you," Jason informed rather calmly. Steeling himself for the ultimate blow up he was definitely going to get.

It came with Duke first, surprisingly, though that was probably because Dick was stone cold shocked. Tim was also a bit surprised, but not much changed on his face besides mild annoyance. Bruce didn't look the slightest bit shocked. Stephanie looked concerned, her pink lips pursed and the hand on the couch gripping a bit.

"Wait- he vanished? He couldn't possibly, you said he had bruised ribs and a neck injury," Duke pointed out, sitting up a bit straighter as he truly wanted to get every detail.

"Yep, and he didn't even have his suit either, must've had a killer escape plan in mind a while in case he ever needed to, cuz I didn't even see any indication that he climbed down to the apartment below to use the fire escape or nothin," Jason further explained.

Bruce leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as he hid his mouth behind contemplative interlacing fingers, "and you checked the room if anything was missing?" He inquired.

Jason scowled, "damn Bruce, your son goes missing and you worry about him stealing a gun or knife? That should be the least of your issues," he spat.

Dick was about to speak up, but Bruce shook his head, "I'm not asking because I'm accusing. You said he was drugged and you also said that you suspect that Bite might have been the cause for all the killings. We don't know how long it stays inside the body, we haven't found a single person to monitor, so until then it is a valid concern of mine if my son is running around drugged up on something that would heighten his killer instincts. It's a question to protect him, not to vilify," he calmly explained, knowing the wrong choice of words could set off Jason, and Dick for that matter.

That made the second oldest scoff in disbelief, he didn't truly believe in what Bruce was saying, the man could host a master class on lying with an elective on hiding your motives, but he noticed the others seemingly accepting the reason- so he sucked it up. He could go to a shooting range later to vent out his frustrations.

"No, he didn't. I didn't notice anything missing, only that the door was open a crack and that the window was completely open. He either somehow escaped through said window, or managed to sneak around me to leave by the front door. Which I doubt the latter as he was injured and can't sneak that well with them," Jason replied, voice and face stony.

Bruce sighed, "well then, it looks like we have a serious problem on our hands. Due to the drug and his training... he could possibly be unaware of the pain. Which means, Damian- a trained assassin, is on the run. From something or someone."

We got some insight to Jason's point of view, as you can tell ... he's so bad at communicating. Oh boy.