𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 | jason todd

xvi. ground control

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
( ground control )

❛ the wayne chronicles ❜

JASON TODD HAD NEVER ENJOYED COVERT MISSIONS. Not just because he couldn't actively get involved and ruin someone's life at his own liking; nor was it because he couldn't actually kill anyone. It was because he was just outstandingly awful at them. Silent, unnoticed and unattainable. That is what Bruce described as the perfect covert success. And so far, every covert mission Jason was assigned ended in either a brawl to the death between him and the members of the organisation or the entire building he was sent to infiltrat to mysteriously combust, losing all the evidence and information he was assaigned to obtain. Saying that he was terrible at covert missions was understatement. He fucking sucked ass at covert missions.

For that reason alone, he didn't particularly blame Bruce for ordering him to stay perched on the concrete roof of the building opposite the Bane Corporation's iron warehouse with an ear piece and thermal googles. After all, he was notorious for fucking up and this was a mission that Bruce could not afford a mistake. Bruce had made that alarmingly clear when he had taken Jason into his quarters that morning to break down the details for this evening. It had been 3 weeks since the Scarecrow failure and the bruises on Jason's jaw and under his left eye were now almost healed, the faint yellow being the last remainder of his disgrace.

"You're healing up nicely," Bruce had said as a way of greeting when Jason had entered his chambers. It always surprised Jason as to how small this room was. A bookcase lined one of the side walls and a large black tapestry covered the centre of the other red bricked wall. Dim rays of light filtered through the large window behind Bruce's desk as the rising sun broke the horizon, illuminating the man sitting at his desk as though he were an angel sent from the heavens. How ironic, Jason had thought, Bruce was the furthest thing from an angel there could be.

"Upset it's healing this quickly, Bruce?" Jason replied, glaring at the man in front of him as he slid his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He may be sitting and Jason standing before him, but the power Bruce held above him was astonishing. Being in his presence always set Jason on edge. It only got worse when the ghost of a smile appeared on the Dark Knight's face.

It was a taunt, Jason knew. Another remorseless reminder of his utter failure. A warning to clean up his mistakes if he wishes to not be on the receiving end of another round of fists from the leader of the assassins.

Jason didn't hate Bruce. To say he wasn't grateful for the man would be a lie. After all, he was a father to him. More of a father than his own blood parent was. And he understood Bruce for what he did. If he didn't discapline his disciples than chaos would quickly reign. It wasn't like Jason hadn't dealt with it before. How he hadn't learnt that the easy way to avoid a beating was to simply not be an idiot was beyond him. And it was partly Jason's fault to begin with. If he hadn't blantantly lied to Bruce's face over the culperate behind Crane's escape, he wouldn't have taken the majority of the beating on Athena's behalf.