#5 - Improbable Remains

#5 - Improbable Remains



The familiar shriek of the school bell echoed through the hallways of Milton Finger High School. Tim groaned, adjusted his rather heavy backpack, and entered on a gloomy Monday morning. Even before he began his vigilante career as Robin, he was always a night owl. It would be second or third period before he got his energy up.

The halls were bustling with students. It took Tim almost five minutes to get to his locker. He’d need to high tail it to home room. As he was lightening the load in his backpack, a familiar face snuck up behind his locker door.

“How was the weekend, oh Grounded One?” Shutting his locker, Tim revealed the smugly smiling face of Jubilation Lee.

“You know, Jubilee, it was suuuper exciting." Tim punctuated his comment with a good roll of his eyes.

“I still can’t believe it,” she laughed to herself as she gently punched Tim on the shoulder. “Goody two-shoes here grounded? This is totally the first step in your downward spiral.”

Jubilee stood about an inch above Tim’s shoulders. Though her black hair, shaved on the sides and back with the top slicked up particularly high today, gave her another inch and a half.

The Asian teen wore a small, black leather jacket over a faded CHVRCHES shirt that had one or two holes in it. Her black jeans also had holes, though Tim suspected those were more strategic in nature. She was the very image of skirting dress code boundaries.

“Seriously man,” another voice said behind the pair. “Your shit’s gonna get me in trouble next.”

Up walked Ronald Tibbets. Ronnie was tall and lanky. Everyone always assumed he played on the basketball team, yet he had little interest in the sport. Or any sport for that matter. Ronnie and Tim met in their sixth grade Computer class. The two of them quickly bonded over their shared interest in coding and gaming, becoming best friends almost instantly. Jubilee rounded out the trio after she first moved to Gotham from Los Angeles in ninth grade. Her friendship had a bit of a rocky start, but then she liked making things difficult.

“Whaddaya mean?” Jubilee asked Ronnie, craning her neck to look up at the African-American boy.

“Tim’s Dad called me last night,” Ronnie whispered as best he could over the noise of the hallway. “Grillin’ me about his alibi.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Tim sighed. The three friends started down the hall toward their homerooms.

“Nah man, it’s cool. I just...I hated lying to him.”

“Lying to him?” Jubilee shouted, moving in front of the boys and walking backwards. “Wait what?”

Ronnie raised a hand up and rubbed his face under his glasses, shaking his head at his mistake.

“It’s nothing,” Tim said. “Ronnie just meant...”

“Uh uh!” Jubilee interrupted. “Let Ronnie tell me what he meant.”

The three friends moved to the side of the hall. The flood of students started to disperse as they all entered their classrooms. Ronnie fidgeted with his bag, adjusted his green polo shirt, and rubbed his shaved head. Jubilee had a way of making him squirm.

“Ronnie?”

“Okay, look. Tim messaged me and told me he was gonna tell his Dad that he was at my place that night helping me fix my parent’s computer after someone spilled beer on it at a party.”

Tim scowled up at his best friend. Ronnie, his face pained, gestured toward Jubilee. “Look man, you know she’d get it out of me eventually. She’s relentless.”

Tim looked away from Ronnie only to find Jubilee inches away from his face, her eyes boring into his. “So you lied to me too! And if you weren’t at Ronnie’s, where were you? Hmm?” She jabbed a finger into his chest for good measure.

“Look, I was...I...”

The homeroom bell rang, causing both Tim and Ronnie to jump out of their skins.

“Shit! We’re late!”

Ronnie ran off down the hall toward his classroom. Tim maneuvered around Jubilee to head to their homeroom. She quickly moved to keep pace with him.

“So?” she asked, never taking her eyes off him. “What were you doing that night?”

“It’s a long story.”

“So start telling it.”

“Can’t,” Tim said as he slid to a stop at the door to their homeroom. “We’re here.”

He sighed in relief as he opened the door. The whole class turned at the intrusion. Tim felt their eyes on him as he quietly made his way to his seat. When Jubilee walked in right behind him, he thought he heard someone make a suggestive noise.

“Nice of you two to join us,” Mr. Fitzgerald said. The elder teacher coughed in disapproval.

“Sorry,” Tim whispered as he sat at his desk. He looked to where Jubilee sat two rows over. She was still watching him, her eyes narrowed. She brought up two fingers, pointed at her eyes, and back at him. This wasn’t something she was going to drop anytime soon.



The motorcycle rolled to a stop and Dick cut the engine. He instantly felt better, as the loud roar was almost blasphemous in the quiet surroundings of Gotham Memorial Cemetery.

The sky was overcast but it didn’t feel like it would rain. The clouds traveled slowly on the breeze, occasionally letting the sun out to shine through the large trees scattered over the grounds. The air was chill but not cold, making Dick’s black leather biker jacket more than enough to keep him warm.

Placing his helmet on his bike, Dick adjusted his backpack and began the long walk. He’d only been to the grave once, at Jason’s funeral. He wasn’t much for cemeteries. Dick’s parents had been Catholic but after their death he hadn’t kept up on his faith. He often didn’t know what to believe during his life, but he knew in his heart that no matter what happened after death, you didn’t need to visit the remains of someone to talk to them or feel their presence.

It took him a good twenty minutes to find the gravestone. Dick had a very clear memory of the grave site but much of the cemetery looked the same. It was a modest plot, though Bruce had it close to the Wayne Family section. Jason had no family anyone was aware of to bury him with. His parents had been cremated when no one claimed their bodies.

“Here lies Jason Peter Todd,” Dick read aloud to himself. He walked up and dropped his backpack on the grass in front of the gravestone. A sacrilegious act in some eyes, but Dick was fairly certain there was no one here to offend.

There were no signs of disturbance on the ground. The grass was healthy, the earth settled. Not that Dick expected to find a hole dug from the inside or anything. Whatever the truth was, zombies and vampires were still make believe. No Dick suspected that one of two things happened. Either the body was taken soon after the funeral or the body was never Jason’s to begin with.

Kneeling down, Dick opened his backpack to take out the imaging device he had borrowed from the Batcave. About twice the size of a standard tablet, he held the device up to the ground approximately where the coffin should be and began to scan through the earth.

While he waited, Dick looked over his shoulders to see if anyone was around. The cemetery appeared to be empty, unsurprising for a Monday morning. The only sounds were the birds singing and the low hum of the scanner below him.

Finally a soft electronic ding announced that the scan was complete. Despite the feeling that he was simply confirming suspicions, he realized he was holding his breath. The image popped up on the screen, a black and red outline of the earth beneath him. The coffin was where it should be. However inside was empty save for the few trinkets placed with the body.

Dick sat back onto the soft grass. He’d been there that day. Bruce had been there. The body, Jason, was in the coffin when it was lowered into the ground. How on Earth had someone taken the dead body of Jason Todd and...resurrected him? And more importantly, why?

Dick rubbed his eyes, struggling to come to grips with the truth behind the Red Hood. The world was a crazy place nowadays. Seemed like every day they were seeing new and unimaginable things happening. Amazing advancements in science, mutants and others with fantastical powers, and who knows what else. The idea that someone could take Jason and bring him back to life?

Sure. Why not? It was getting harder to ignore the evidence, though circumstantial it may be. But for what purpose? To come back as a death dealing vigilante in Gotham City? Seems like a waste of such an amazing feat. Did this have something to do with the disappearance of Bruce? Could Jason, or the ones behind his return, be responsible?

Those questions would have to wait. Returning the imaging device to his backpack, Dick got up to his feet and started back to his motorcycle. His pace was brisk, his mind set. However this all came to be, the fact was that someone was out there murdering criminals. It was time to put a stop to it.



It had taken some doing; a couple broken bones and one gunshot wound, to get the likely location of Sugar and Spice, but two hours work had been well worth it. It was now quarter past eleven in the evening and the Red Hood was looking down at Two-Face's two right hand ladies.

They were uncharacteristically subdued. The criminally insane of Gotham's underbelly didn't take on ridiculous personas to avoid being noticed. Still, they must have appreciated the danger they were in, as they rolled up in a '99 Ford Taurus, dark green. If they didn't want to be noticed, that was certainly the car to do it.

Their choice in attire was equally subdued. Instead of their normal black and white getups, the pair were dressed in jeans and sweats. Both of their heads were covered by hoods.

The story he'd gotten from one of Dent's "former" flunkies was that the ladies had set up a meeting with Cobblepot's right hand men to go over the terms of Dent's takeover. The ladies were fashionably late, to be expected.

Placing his binoculars back into his belt, the Red Hood glanced up from his perch on the rooftop across the street and eyed the building they were entering. The storefront of the first floor was Hadley's Shoe Repair. A very small time business. A perfect front for criminal operations.

The other three floors above the shop had every window obscured. No doubt they had men stationed watching the street below. The roof likely too, though he was currently one story below and had no vantage point to be sure.

Clenching his teeth, the Red Hood let out a heavy breath and turned his back to the wall of the rooftop. If he went in guns blazing his targets would likely slip away. He didn't have enough intel to try sneaking in. Not without a large risk of tipping them off. As his best, and only, lead to getting back to Cobblepot and Dent, he couldn't afford to risk losing Sugar and Spice.

So he did the only thing he could. The one thing he was never good at. He waited.



*Missed Call: Babs*

The third one today. She never did know when to quit. Dick put his phone back in his pocket and his helmet on his bike. He started walk up on the sidewalk before thinking better of it and grabbed his helmet. He was in Park Row, or as it was commonly known now, Crime Alley. He'd be lucky if his bike was still there when he got back.

Now almost certain that it was Jason Todd he was looking for, Dick had spent most of the afternoon asking around after him. It was a slow process. Most people knew to keep their mouths shut when people came asking questions. A bit of cash and the fact that he wasn't flashing a badge was enough to get some tongues wagging. When the stories inevitably to Crime Alley, Dick wasn't the least surprised.

Rather than start questioning random people on the street, Dick headed straight for his best chance at info. Above the door sitting on the corner was a small sign that read "CLINIC". There were five people loitering about outside, either waiting their turn or waiting for someone inside. Or possibly sticking to the safest place in Crime Alley.

Dr. Leslie Thompkins' free clinic was well known throughout Gotham as neutral territory. She had a reputation for helping those in need, no matter their history or legal status. Such a well earned status it was, that on the rare occasions that someone new to town tried to make trouble or rob what they thought was an easy score, they were quickly and often mercilessly dealt with, much to Dr. Thompkins' dismay. Still, the criminals of Gotham knew what they had here and they protected it as doggedly, if not more so, than the police.

When Dick started up the stairs toward the door, a skinny, erratic man waiting outside tried to grab his arm. "Hey! Wait your turn, fucker!"

Dick intercepted his attempt, pushing his arm away with one fluid, circular motion of his forearm and then pushing the man back with the same motion. He didn't use much force, the poor soul would likely get knocked down by a small breeze, but it was enough to cause him to stumble back two feet.

"I'm not a patient, friend," Dick said without slowing his stride. "Just visiting."

Entering the tiny clinic, Dick found his mind wandering back to his first time visiting. Shortly after he was first taken in by Bruce the two had come to visit Dr. Thompkins, Bruce in disguise of course. She had been a close friend of Bruce's father and helped him in the days after his parent's deaths. Dick was shocked to learn that she even knew about Bruce's identity as Batman.

No less shocked was he to learn about how much she did here. With just herself and two nurses, a man and a woman Dick later learnt Dr. Thompkins had helped get off the street and through nursing school, they worked over forty hours a week, often to midnight on nights such as this, helping any who came in through their doors. Sometimes dealing with some very disturbed individuals, as Dick had seen during his numerous visits over the years.

At least tonight was a quiet one. Walking past the nurses with a smile and a nod of recognition, Dick made his way through the relatively small main room. Hanging curtains were the only thing blocking off the three patient "rooms" from the four seat waiting area. Dick made his way to the only door besides the bathroom, the one to Dr. Thompkins office.

He'd heard her talking to a patient behind one of the curtains so he didn't bother to knock. He simply walked in, sat down on the metal chair opposite her desk, and waited. He knew she'd be in as soon as she was available. However long that might take.

Glancing about the tiny, almost closet sized office, Dick looked over the familiar pictures handing on the wall. The frames were all dusty, the glass spotted with years of build up, including her degrees, save for one. A picture of Dr. Thompkins , Thomas, and Martha Wayne standing outside the clinic on it's opening day. That picture was clean and dust free, the trio's smiles shining bright.

After about twenty minutes the door finally opened, it's rusty hinges squealing in protest, as Dr. Thompkins walked in. "Good evening, Dick. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Dick stood up and gave the small, gray haired lady a warm hug. When they pulled back, he took note of the bags under her eyes. The gray tone to her skin. She was working too hard. She always did. Age, however, was starting to catch up to her.

"I don't dare hope it's news about Bruce?" she asked as she walked over to sit at her desk. Her voice was just as tired as she looked.

"I'm sorry, no." Dick sat back down and offered as reassuring a smile as he could muster. "We've had no luck on that front, I'm afraid."

"So am I." Dr. Thompkins put her elbows on her desk and ran her hands over her face and back through her hair, various strands having escaped her ponytail. "So what can I do for you?"

"I'm hoping you can help me with some information."

"Dick, you know I can't do that," she sighed, preparing to go over the same argument she'd had a dozen times with Bruce. "All the patients here enjoy doctor/patient privilege. I wouldn't break that rule for Bruce and I won't for you either."

It was late. Almost midnight. She was exhausted and he didn't want to take up any more of his time than he needed. So he got to the point. "Except you have. In the past, in extreme circumstances, you have given up info to Bruce. I know of at least two times."

Dick watched as Dr. Thompkins, looking out from under her palms holding up her forehead, stared down at her desk, ashamed.

"And frankly, I would consider this a very extreme circumstance. Especially if he has been here and you didn't tell any of us."

She continued to avoid his gaze. She knew exactly who he was talking about. The confirmation on her face was enough to make Dick's heart start to race. He could feel the heat on his face as anger started to rise. He swallowed hard and tried to push it back down. The last thing he needed to do was blow up at a mentally exhausted old lady.

As Dick struggled to bring any words to his lips, Dr. Thompkins finally whispered, "Yes, Jason has been here."



It took a little over an hour for Sugar and Spice to come out of Hadley's Shoe Repair. As soon as they did, the Red Hood started moving. Keeping low on the rooftop, he ran to the edge and, grabbing a rope he'd left set up, leapt over the side of the building. He hit the bottom of the alley with a splash into a small puddle he hoped was just water and ran for the end of the alley opposite the shoe repair store.

There he found his old black Pontiac Firebird waiting for him. He revved up the engine, practically tore the mirrored red helmet off his head, and quickly drove around the block. He made it just in time to see the Taurus making the turn around the corner.

Keeping as far back as he could, the Red Hood followed. It was a tense twenty minute drive, as anyone driving for Dent would no doubt be capable of spotting a tail. Twice he almost lost them due to the Taurus taking sudden, unsignaled turns.

Finally they pulled up to a small, closed down department store by the East River. The Red Hood circled around the block and parked, putting his helmet back on before darting through the back alleys and up a fire escape. He settled on the roof of a three story apartment building and scoped out the area.

There was nothing special about the abandoned store. It looked like it had been closed for some time. He couldn't tell what it used to be. No indication on why Dent would choose such a place. At least, not until he noticed the address. 22 Twin Ave. He audibly groaned at the obsessiveness.

The parking lot was empty save for the Taurus, which quickly left after dropping off the ladies. They knocked on the boarded up door. After a few moments the boards quickly came down and they were allowed inside.

The Red Hood weighed his options. This was very likely Dent's hideout. It was also very likely Cobblepot was here. Likely, but not certain. If he was wrong he could cause the two to go further underground. The more pressure he put on the rats the deeper they'd crawl into the cracks.

No idea on the number of hostiles. No idea of the layout. No idea on if the intended targets were even there. Back in the day, Batman would have told him to wait it out. Unless lives were at risk, there was no point in risking your own. Stakeout the place, take note of the coming and going, assess the numbers and the risk.

Fuck Batman.

Running across the rooftops, the Red Hood made his way three buildings down before zip-lining across the street. He slowly and quietly made his way toward the hideout. Sticking to the shadows until he reached the edge of the neighboring building. The small parking lot in the front made it impossible to sneak up unnoticed, but the back of the hideout had a small road up to the loading docks that was fenced off from a tree line.

The single street lamp behind the hideout barely illuminated the area. It was easy for him to make his way through the trees and use one to get onto the roof of the hideout unseen. The hard part was finding a way inside.

All the entrances were boarded up. He waited above the back door by the loading dock for some time, hoping someone would go in or out. It was some time, long enough he was considering going in guns blazing, before an armed man came out and lit a cigarette.

In one lightning fast move the Red Hood leapt down from the roof. He simultaneously grabbed the man from behind in a choke hold and stuck his leg out behind him to catch the door before it closed. After the body in his arm went limp, he threw it off the loading dock and headed inside.

The interior was dark. The only small bits of light were from things like Exit signs or battery chargers. The electricity was on, likely thanks to a hefty bribe to someone at the power company, but little appeared to be in use. Honestly it was the perfect environment for sneaking, a skill he was rather proficient in even before meeting Batman.

After about fifteen minutes of searching the back areas and avoiding a couple of Dent's men, the Red Hood made his way onto what would have been the sales floor. It wasn't wide open like he expected. Whatever company shut the place down had left much of the shelving standing.

A bright white glow was coming from the center of the sales floor. As he made his way toward it, he heard Dent talking to Sugar and Spice.

"How many blocks do they cover?," Dent asked. His voice was unmistakable, like a awkward teen trying to put on a deep, "badass" voice.

"Six," one of the ladies answered. He couldn't tell which. "From Dale to 6th and from Sterling to D St."

"Good. We'll give them a couple weeks, maybe a month, to get used to the change before pushing them to expand. It'll give us some time to clean up any troublemakers."

Their business talk continued, the Red Hood just ignored it. When he was almost upon them, he caught glimpse of Cobblepot. He was handcuffed to a chair, a dirty gag tied tightly to his mouth. His head was resting on his chest. Even in the low light, the Red Hood could make out the bruising on his face.

When he had an unobstructed view he saw Dent, Sugar, and Spice standing around a table about ten feet away. They had two floor lamps on either side, plugged in with extension cords. Another two of his men were lounging about on worn down couches. None of them were looking at Cobblepot.

He had a clear path toward the bastard. He reasoned he could take out Cobblepot and each of the goons before Dent and the girls could react. Then he might be able to hit one of them before they took cover. Even if not, they didn't appear armed and he was confident he could take them out. Worse came to worse, he had some explosives.

He began his move forward, inching slowly through the shadows. He was about five feet away as he moved out from behind a set of shelves and into the open to get in position. The moment he stepped out, however, the ceiling lights turned on, illuminating the entire store. Out of the corner of his eye he made out the motion sensors.

Caught off guard, for just a moment, the Red Hood failed to notice the Penguin's wrists slip free from the cuffs. Cobblepot was suddenly on his feet and turning, a gun in his hand. By the time the Red Hood realized and started to dive to the side it was too late. The first shot went straight into his left side. His jacket and underarmor took much of the hit, but he instantly felt the bullet enter his flesh.

“Will you walk into my parlour, said the Spider to the Fly," Cobblepot grinned from ear to ear as the Red Hood scrambled behind the nearest set of shelves.

"Well done, ladies," Dent laughed. "Such wonderful bait."

The Red Hood gripped his side and his gloved hand came up covered in blood. Over the laughter from Dent and Cobblepot he began to hear the sound of shoes squeaking across linoleum all around him.

"Come out, vigilante!" Cobblepot shouted in joy. "It's time for justice!"

-To Be Concluded-