connanro-chan:

connanro-chan:

au where the real reason jason wears the red helmet is because when he went back to gotham to be a drug lord none of the gangs would take him seriously because he still looked like he was like, twelve

consider: the thugs are gathered around a table, planning their next round of illegal arms smuggling. it’s a dimly lit, stuffy room, in the back of an abandoned warehouse, because everyone knows that’s where the real mobs plan things. all is going well until they hear a round of gunfire and a lot of screaming. they turn around, rigid with fear, when the door is kicked down, their last guard crumpling after it. there’s a dark, ominous figure in the doorway. the boss thug has gone white with fear.

“sh-show yourself!” he says, trying to maintain his thugly composure. there’s a metallic click as the dark figure presumably pulls out another gun. the thug’s goons are waiting for a signal to jump him, their own weapons hidden out of sight under the collapsible plastic table.

“come into the light!” the thug demands, trying to still the tremor in his voice. his eyelid is twitching.

there’s a pause. a bat in the rafter squeaks. crickets chirp. the figure moves forward, menacingly, and the thugs shrink backwards, despite their desire to make sure everyone knows that they are Strong Independent Goons who Don’t Need No Fear. this is Gotham, after all.

the figure takes a final, dramatic step into the range of the dim overhead light and he’s–

the boss thug is perplexed. shocked, even. he takes in the tall figure’s dark hair with an odd white streak, the domino mask concealing most of his incredibly youthful face, his long gangly limbs and shoulders that don’t quite fill out the leather jacket he’s wearing. he opens his mouth before he thinks better of it.

“how old are you, twelve?” he says. there’s another moment of silence. despite living in Gotham, where the Batman runs around with a kid who regularly kicks their butts, the thugs are less afraid. what could a kid, even one with two guns, do to them? they’re hardened criminals. they inspire fear in the hearts of men (and women). unfortunately, however, this was a mistake. the kid’s face darkens with rage, and the thugs once again cower in fear. they’ve made a grave mistake.

“I’m seventeen, you assholes,” the kid yells, and shoots out the boss’s kneecaps. there’s a lot of screaming after that.