#stalker behavior

[Dedicated is a newer, longer and improved version of my one-shot, Old Friends. Dedicated is crossposted on Quotev and AO3.]

Disclaimer: The image of Red Hood used in this post does not belong to me. It’s by Dexter Soy and was lifted from: https://www.reddit.com/r/DCcomics/comments/h0iavp/cover_from_red_hood_and_the_outlaws_20_by_dexter/

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REPORT OF AUTOPSY

Decedent: [Redacted] Age: [Redacted] Sex: Male Hair color: Black Eye color: Blue/gray Date of autopsy: [Redacted]

Gross examination: Decedent is small for his age, likely due to malnutrition. Multiple second degree burns on head, face, anterior torso and limbs. Chipped central incisor. Missing first and second premolars. Preorbital edema in right eye; left globe is ruptured. Dislocated left glenohumeral joint. Patellar fractures on both lower limbs. The Achilles tendon was severed in the left foot. 

Possible cause of death: cardiac arrest caused by pulmonary embolism

[CONFIDENTIAL]             

[EXPUNGE] [EXPUNGE] [EXPUNGE]

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MEDICAL CERTIFICATE OF DEATH

Name: Jason Peter Todd Sex: Male Age: 15 years

Immediate cause: Destroyed brainstem Antecedent cause: Atlanto-occipital dislocation Underlying cause: High energy trauma from motor vehicle accident

Manner of Death: Natural/(Accident)/Homicide/Pending Investigation How did the injury occur? Vehicular collision

Doctor: Leslie Maurin Thompkins

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Present Day, On a rooftop in Gotham

It was glass-cutting nipples cold tonight. 

Drake had offered him a suit with smart thermo tech, but he’d be damned if he accepted anything from the twit. 

It’s been several months since the failed assassination of his replacement along with his former mentor, but both Tim and Bruce and the rest of the “family” have been annoyingly accommodating. They agreed on a temporary truce and Jason was allowed to stay in Gotham as an ally. Naturally, he was forced to put his revenge on hold. He still couldn’t believe how he let them talk him into it.

“I don’t know why I waited so long to pick this up,” Dickhead said, flipping through his library copy of The Scarlet Knight Book 1: One Unfortunate Day. He wanted to borrow Jason’s, but there was only one other person Jason trusted his books with and that was Alfred. “She’s not too bad.”

Jason snorted. Understatement of the century. When Talia gave him the collector’s edition of One Unfortunate Day, he couldn’t put it down. He surfed through those 578 pages in a single sitting. However, he couldn’t pick up the second novel until he finished training. He devoured books 3 through 18 while he was planning Bruce’s murder. The controversial Book 19 was released around the time he finally confronted shitty dad #2 (and Tim). 

By now, he has reread each of your books at least twice. Reading your paragraphs relaxed him…it was like having a conversation with you again. Your words tuned out all the harsh voices in his head.

“I’m ⅔ in but I still haven’t read anything about that Wren guy.”

Jason sighed and answered, “That’s ‘cause he’s not in that installment.”

“Spoiler alert, dude!”

“You’re the one who asked.”

“I was whining, not asking! Damn, now this is gonna bug me.”

“Good, because you were starting to bug me.”

“You used to be so much sweeter.”

“Say that again and I’ll shoot you.”

Dick paused, then grinned. “Swee-ter.”

Jason felt a vein pop. “Just get back to reading. Why can’t you ever just read?” Dick was a noisy reader. It wasn’t that he read aloud but he liked to provide commentary for every scene. 

“I can’t take it, tell me when Wren appears.”

“Why? So you can whine more? Not a chance.”

“Come on, just tell me and I’ll shut up.”

Jason seriously doubted that. “First of all, why are you so obsessed with Wren?” Wren was well-written, he’ll admit that, but Jason didn’t understand Dickhead’s unrelenting curiosity for that specific character.

“Guess you haven’t heard, but that’s okay, big brother knows how much you like to brood and avoid social media like a heathen—”

“—fuck you—”

“—Apparently, a lot of fans like to do this thing where they ‘cast’,” he said, making obnoxious air quotes, “real life people as actors in a hypothetical live action adaptation and I’m the fan favorite for Wren.”

Bullshit.

“I know that look and no, it’s not bullshit, little wing. Wren is supposed to be tall, dark–handsome. And my personal brand of gorgeous is what the readers think about when they picture him.”

“You do realize that those three adjectives together are the most commonly used description for the ideal guy? And literally every male human that works for Batman fits the criteria. Except Damian.” Give it a couple of more years though and the demon spawn will one hundred percent become another famous bachelor. 

“Stop being such a killjoy.”

“Whatever. Anyway, why are you only starting the series now?” It’s been years since Wren’s first appearance. 

“Well, that’s ‘cause the fandom’s louder than ever thanks to the news. I keep getting tagged so much that my phone just crashed.”

“News?”

Dickhead grinned smugly. 

“What news?”

“You’re supposed to be her biggest fan and yet you’re always behind.” He clicked his tongue like a disappointed mother. 

“Don’t make me choke it out of you.”

He dropped the playfulness and crossed his arms. “You seriously don’t know?”

“Know what? Stop screwing around and tell me.” Normally, when Dick started acting like an adult-sized brat, Jason would’ve disappeared and found himself a different roof, but the topic in hand concerned you so he had the patience to stick around.

“Scarlet Knight’s going to be a movie series.”

“I see.”

“That’s it? No squealing? No exuberant fanboying?”

Jason shrugged and focused on the streets below. Or at least he tried. 

“Talk about boring,” Dick was still talking, “I expected more. Shouldn’t you be proud?”

“I am proud” left his lip instinctively.

“You don’t sound like it. Dare I say, you look disappointed.”

“Forget it.” Jason sighed. “You can go back and report to daddy now. As you can see, I still haven’t broken my promise.” While he had agreed not to kill anyone while in Gotham, trust was delicate. Whether up close or a few gargoyles away, there was always someone monitoring Red Hood every night. Nine times out of ten, it was Nightwing. 

Nightwing, who was about to say something again before Jason motioned for him to shut up.

They both leaned over the rooftop and watched you stop beside a street lamp. 

“What’s wrong, Peter? Does it still hurt?” You knelt down to inspect the pit bull. “Poor baby. I’ll redo your bandages when we get home okay? Come on, I’ll carry you. Hey—stop licking me—I get it, you’re welcome.” You giggled as you carried the dog into your apartment building.

Dickhead elbowed him. “This is your chance to talk to her.” 

Jason shoved him so hard he fell backwards. 

“It’s been months since you’ve come back, just talk to her.”

“And tell her what? ‘Hey, remember me? The dead guy on every dedication page you’ve written? Yeah, I’m not so dead now!’”

“Well…it’s a start.”

“Just shut up, Dick.”

***

“Your tea, Master Bruce.” 

“Thank you.”

“I’m surprised to see you here. Don’t you usually spend the evening out, swinging from building to building?”

“Barbara’s friend is having a bachelorette party and she asked for the night off.”

The mechanical purring of motorbikes disturbed the peace inside the cave. 

Already expecting them, Alfred greeted the visitors. “Just in time. The hot cocoa and pretzels are ready.”

Stephanie, Cass and Tim shot up from their bikes and raced towards the food. Damian rolled his eyes, muttering “children” as he tried to act nonchalant, but his quick strides towards the service trolley betrayed him.

Batman remained seated in front of his computer. It was a slow night and he had convinced the kids to come back for a snack break while the former Robins managed the first shift. 

His receiver rang and Bruce put his cowl back on. “Progress report.”

“I told you to drop that kinda talk. You can ask normally, you know,” Dick said.

Bruce grumbled and Dick grumbled back.

Capitulating, Bruce asked, “How is Re…How is Jason?”

“He’s stable enough. Nothing’s changed with his routine: he follows her around whenever she leaves the house, but once he confirmed that she only ever left twice a day to walk the dog he patrols the rest of the city just as agreed.”

“No…casualties?”

“Nada. He’s been well-behaved, he doesn’t even try to shake me off when he knows I’m tailing him. Seems like he’s content as long as he can watch over her. You were right, B, she’s basically his kryptonite.”

It would be more accurate to compare you to a leash, but Bruce kept the comment to himself. “Anything else?”

“I told him I could break into her place while she was out walking the dog. He punched me, like he actually put his back into it.”

“I told you he wouldn’t like that.”

“Yeah, lesson learned. Anyway, I then offered to follow her so he can go and snoop inside his little author’s apartment.”

“And?”

“He looked at me like I was trash.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “And?”

“That’s it. We’re just patrolling now.” 

“All right. Good job. Batman out.”

Bruce pulled back the cowl and reclined on his chair.

“Was that Nightwing?” Stephanie spoke with a mouth full of pretzels. “Did Red Hoodie finally snap?” 

Tim answered instead: “I doubt it.”

“How can you be so sure? Didn’t he come back to kill you two? How are you so fine with letting that guy run around like this?”

“Call it a hunch,” he muttered, staring down his empty mug. “Jason is dangerous, but he’s manageable. We have him on a leash, at least for now.”

Unsatisfied with having her questions answered with riddles, Stephanie threw a half-eaten pretzel at him and the two bickered. 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. 

Seems that Tim picked up on it, too. 

When Jason returned to Gotham alive, Bruce didn’t even care about the circumstances, didn’t mind that he was led in a wild good chase, he was just glad to have his son back. But Jason wasn’t happy. He radiated rage, enough to desire blood. He was dead serious on setting fire to Batman and everyone in his way. 

But one word—one name was all it took to disarm him. Jason changed instantly. The anger sloughed off, replaced with uncertainty and longing. 

Bruce oversaw him undergo gruelling training, witnessed him captured and tortured and killed, and yet he never saw Jason look more vulnerable than when he heard your name again. 

In the past, he was worried about you and Jason. He originally believed that you two were just really good friends, but there was something deeper there. Darker. You were too close. It wasn’t a matter of stupid teenage love versus the meddlesome, conservative father—rather, he felt that you two bordered on codependent. 

He recalled a time when Jason fractured his leg from training. Alfred threatened to tie him to the bed but Jason insisted that he was supposed to meet with you at the park. When Bruce told him that you would’ve stayed home because of the heavy rain, Jason grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “I need to go. She’s waiting for me.” He didn’t stop crawling out of his bed until Bruce told him he would go and check on you. 

Bruce drove to the park fully expecting it to be empty. The rain was so extreme, the city was worried about flash flooding. You would’ve been insane to stay, and yet, Jason was right. You were there, sitting on the swing. Waiting. 

He hurried to your side with an umbrella and a spare rain coat. When he called out to you, you greeted him with a smile, like it was just any other day and you weren’t soaked from head to toe. 

“Good afternoon, Mister Wayne.”

He didn’t waste time and walked you to the car. 

Once you were settled in, he asked, “What were you doing out there?”

“I was waiting for Jason.”

“How long have you been waiting?”

“We agreed to meet after lunch so…” You raised your hand and counted on your fingers. “Three hours, I think.”

The rain had been pouring since nine in the morning. “And you stayed? You could've just sent him a text and gone home, couldn't you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

You tilted your head and blinked innocently. “Because we promised.” Like it was common sense. Like it was normal. 

That blind devotion felt like a liability back then, but now Bruce was thankful for it. Now they had the perfect leash. 

Chapter 3: Nonchalant Series Masterlist

author's note: Don't overthink the timeline. I'm hoping to be more chill with this project so I lose less hair writing.

taglist: @nathalieeee @nerrivm

Disclaimer: The image of Red Hood used in this post does not belong to me. It’s by Dexter Soy and was lifted from: https://www.reddit.com/r/DCcomics/comments/h0iavp/cover_from_red_hood_and_the_outlaws_20_by_dexter/

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Tommy’s breath caught in his throat at the subtle movement behind the windowpane. A few light droplets splashed his upturned face, gliding in errant trickles over his angular features yet he barely registered the sensation. Unconsciously, he moved towards the house as if hypnotized, his hazel eyes never leaving that opening into the Red Ranger’s room, one that he’d clandestinely climbed the latticework to look into on more occasions than he could count.

He knew Jason was home, had watched his car pull into the driveway, had tracked the red and white letter jacket as his prey stiffly hobbled up the walk to the front door, the obvious limp breaking the Green Ranger’s fruitless ruminating on what he was considering. Tommy grinned, remembering smashing the other teen’s knee in the heat of their last battle and not letting up on the injured joint the entire confrontation after that.

There was only so much Ranger healing could do with such an onslaught of dedicated trauma in so little time. It was almost like he’d marked Jason and that appealed to him greatly.

Now, Tommy was directly alongside the wall of the home, and the heavy, swell of clouds finally opened up with an ominous crack of thunder that nearly went through him as the deluge consumed him. His cotton tank clung to him, his hair soak and sticking to the skin of his cheeks and back of the neck, as rivulets made chaotic waterfalls from the tip of his freckled nose, his lips, chin, and jaw.

At first blush, a passerby would believe that the pale, sullen teenager looked as ferocious as a bedraggled kitten, nothing like the deadly, evil monster he truly was. He almost looked too soft and pretty to be so demonic. But the thoughts compulsively cycling in that head of his….

‘Am I going to do it? Really do it, not just fantasize and daydream silly, ‘what-if’ scenarios…’

He knew the unspoken expectation after all.

As the Red Ranger, Jason was the leader and supposed to die; he was too dangerous to be allowed to live. His death would be a devastating blow to his teammates and the rest of Angel Grove. It was a given that the mouthy smart ass would be killed.

Tommy’s shaky hands found the wooden edgings of the trellis, the toes of his sneakers working into the cross beams as he once more climbed up to the slanted roof just outside the glass. His hands moved one over the other, his feet seeking purchase in the flimsy wood. If not for his slender build, it wouldn’t have held him.

Finally, he was hefting himself onto the rough shingles, mindful to move slowly and carefully while sidling closer to the brick beside the painted frame. The Green Ranger strained for any sounds that might be coming from the bedroom, but he could hear nothing over the roar of the rain and its thunder.

‘I was too hasty before, too impulsive…I can see that now,’ he thought disjointedly to himself. “I didn’t have a good enough plan in place.’

Now, Tommy could see that it was fortuitous that Bulk and Skull had interrupted his ill-conceived scheme to abduct Jason at the Youth Center that night, though it still pissed him off and rankled his pride. There were too many holes in his plan with not enough care taken to properly consider the logistics of his underhanded plot.

The whole thing was absurd to think about, yet he hadn’t been able to help himself after the conversation he’d had with Scorpina that day in the armory…

He could feel the roughened wood and its jagged splinters digging into the backs of his thighs through the green silk as he perched sullenly atop the lid of the aged crate. Scrunching his freckled nose in irritation, Tommy squirmed, shifting his lanky physique as he sought a more comfortable position.

Scorpina smirked, casting a quick glance in the Green Ranger’s direction as she worked her blade in long, smooth strokes across the finely grit whetstone. It had taken her some time to become accustomed to the moody child/warrior stalking the corridors of the lunar palace, but she’d grown rather fond of Tommy to her surprise. Perhaps it was because the boy had started shadowing her, peppering her with questions about her life, how she had risen through the ranks and gained her infamy, and how the intricacies of the alien social hierarchy worked.

When the pale, surly teen descended into the chilly armory that day, the petite woman was curious what topic Tommy would desire to discuss as she slicked her sword to razor sharpness.

“So,” he mused, casually, “I noticed that you and Goldar have several enslaved…uh… ‘creatures’. Is that customary in this new alien society that will be taking shape on Earth?”

Scorpina smirked, her full red lips twitching in amusement. She continued the work to her weapon, periodically testing the deadly edge with the careful touch of a slender finger, as she began explaining the retinue of beings that lived at her and Goldar’s feet.

“The status of a captive is very important to note,” she advised, turning the sword to and fro beneath the light. “It’s desirable to possess those having a higher rank as serves as a boon to their master’s reputation. So, that means individuals from royalty or nobility, heads of state, or other ruling classes, those with wealth and prestige, defeated leaders of merit from their armies, those with valuable skills or talents…”

Tommy’s cheek twitched as he gnawed at the inner lining, a nasty habit he couldn’t seem to shake and resulted in a flood of coppery-tasting saliva mixed with saliva. He resorted to such behavior when deep in thought, anxious, or preparing to unleash a torrent of rage.

The boy didn’t have to feign interest in this conversation, one he’d gradually been working up to over the past few months, though it was useful to discover certain information that would aid in further developing his ascension into power. He listened intently to Scorpina’s response with wide hazel eyes, his teeth unconsciously worrying faster at the delicate flesh between them.

“Having such powerful captives serving you before your peers is something to take great pride in,” she continued. “Showing them off at grand galas and banquets, seeing your rivals admire them and become envious… It’s almost unheard of to be able to purchase them at any price.”

Tommy was not concerned with parading Jason about, in fact, the Green Ranger didn’t want to share him at all. And he certainly didn’t want Goldar to land a lucky blow and finally claim the other teen’s life. Rita’s reinforcements were nearly ready, and he was running out of time, given that there were no guarantees on the battlefield.

Especially with a fighter as foolishly bullheaded and stubborn as the Red Ranger, who was also a high-level target for any of the fiendish monsters.

Scorpina paused, lifting an arched brow at the child’s captivated face, his eyes scarcely blinking as he drank it all in.

“Why are you so interested in the matter of captives, Tommy? You’re not ready for such a responsibility,” she demanded sternly. “You might be Rita’s Green Ranger but you’re a kid just like the others.”

He flinched slightly at being called out, before giving an indignant retort.

“I’m 17! I’m not a child!”

The woman grinned, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied Tommy’s puffed-up posture.

“Comparatively speaking, you’re an infant,” she advised with a crisp nod. “How do you know how to manage potentially dangerous prisoners? You don’t have the experience or the fearsome reputation to make them behave, to keep them from plotting against you or Rita, to prevent them from escaping… You have no knowledge of how to train one, let alone how to break it down enough to give in and accept its fate.”

Tommy leapt from the crate like an angry feline.

“You have no idea what I know how to do!”

But Scorpina waved him off.

“Easy, Green. Save it for later. Besides, I don’t think you understand how it works,” she giggled. “You don’t just get your pick of the litter. Whether or not to gift a warrior with a captive is at the discretion of their ruler. It’s a badge of honor, a reward for their feats during battle and their accomplishments under their service.”

The teen huffed angrily.

“So, besting the Rangers wouldn’t earn me such a trinket? Not even Goldar has been able to defeat them, and here I am, terrorizing the whole team! I came closer to taking them down before I lost the Sword of Darkness than that overgrown ape ever has!”

Scorpina didn’t take kindly to this human disparaging her mate so rudely. But it got her thinking. She planted her fists on her hips, a knowing look on her face.

“You want one of them, don’t you, kid? A little pet Ranger of your own?” she cooed. “Let me guess… You’re moony-eyed over that perky Pink bitch. Or perhaps Yellow is more appealing to you?”

Now, it all made sense. Human males, especially those in their teens, were overly hormonal and seeking to sow their seed. Tommy wanted to ensure a plaything for his bedchambers…

The Green Ranger stared at her a moment in confusion. And guilt.

Scorpina was only partly correct in her assessment, but he wasn’t about to make any confessions.

“Why do you care?” he sassed. “What if I do want a Ranger for myself? So what? And who are you to say I haven’t earned the right to possess one.”

The smaller warrior shook her head, her long hair brushing her waist.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve made the classic villain mistake and fallen in love with your enemy… Because you can fuck the shit out of either of those bitches then dispose of them. Keeping them as a captive isn’t necessary for that.”

Tommy’s expression was offended, echoes of his deceased drunken ‘father’s’ homophobic ranting whispering through his memory.

“Love? No! It has nothing to do with what I want.”

And he’d meant that when he said it. He started to delve into his desire for ultimate control, to become someone’s entire world, their very life contingent upon his whims, but Scorpina interrupted him.

“Good, child…because what you want doesn’t matter. It’s about our Empress and her desires. That was the choice you made when you returned to her side of your own free will. You don’t get to make decisions or give orders when you’re still wet behind the ears.”

She turned to exit the armory.

“Your loyalty is to Rita, not your grandiose ego. She’s the ruler and you’re not. Remember that…”

Tommy had been incensed…panicked…compulsively rash. He’d cobbled together some half-assed plan to take Jason that very night, to blitz attack him when he exited the Youth Center, to jab his whorish ‘mother’s’ taser into his neck and make him ride the lightning until he was too confused and drooling all over himself to avoid the sturdy zip ties. Then, the Green Ranger had decided he’d shove the jackass into the trunk of his car and drive out to the lakeside cabin his ‘uncle’ kept, one that the teen had broken into a number of times to hide out.

If he just kept Jason there, safely out of battle, drugged up in a fuzzy twilight that rendered him nice and docile…if he pretended as if he knew nothing about the Red Ranger’s unexpected disappearance in the midst of intergalactic war…if he LIED to his Empress about his knowledge of events…and continued to do so for the foreseeable future…

As if Rita couldn’t peer down from her palace as she often did and locate his captive in Tommy’s possession….

The boy shook his head firmly, amazed by his foolishness.

‘No, that would never have worked… My Empress shouldn’t have the need to look for him. He can’t just up and vanish. It will require some sleight of hand…and I know nothing’s certain on the battlefield.’

Tommy risked peeking around the white frame to peer into Jason’s bedroom. His pulse quickened when he saw the Red Ranger’s broad back hunched over as he sat on the side of his bed, his arm lifted to his moving lips.

‘It appears I’ve made my choice. At least in this regard. I can still serve my Empress loyally even if I keep Jason for myself. If I seize his coin, keep him doped up and pliant, he’ll be helpless do anything more than cry for me…bleed for me… Beg me…’

This one little vice of his didn’t mean he was being treasonous. He wasn’t asking for hundreds of captives. Just this one…

The teen smiled.

‘I’ll get to him first, that’s all. Make sure I’m the one who challenges him. Then, when all eyes are busy, he’ll ‘die’ for me.’