EXTRA: Jason Todd

A night had passed since the battle with Prometheus. Jason Todd had returned to his dark and solitary apartment, his mind still reeling and his body still recovering. The failed ambush weighed heavily on his conscience. 'It's like no matter how hard I try, it always goes back to zero. Someone, something, has to rise up and fuck shit up.'

Jason slumped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He contemplated the endless cycle of crime and ****. He wondered if his fists were enough to save Gotham–if his guns, no, Batman himself was enough. He wondered if any of this had any meaning.

A single fringe of white hair lay across his eyebrow. He blew it back with a puff of air.

As exhaustion washed over him, a flicker of movement caught Jason's attention. Startled, he turned his gaze towards the window, only to find Talia al Ghul gracefully stepping inside his room.

"Hello, Jason," Talia greeted. "You've recovered, it seems."

Her presence evoked conflicting emotions within him. After his resurrection, he spent a year in a medical institution due to memory loss and five months living on the streets of Gotham. It was Talia who had saved him, who had recognized him and taken him in. From then on, he served her League of Assassins like a mindless zombie. He obeyed her like a measly servant. It wasn't until Talia threw him into the Lazarus Pit that his consciousness finally returned–that Jason Todd returned.

However, their paths diverged when she sent him to the All Caste. The All Caste, a group of ancient monks, supplied him with the training and enlightenment Talia had never given him and now he no longer saw her as an ally, much less an authority figure. She was a woman who had used him for her own selfish ideals, nothing more.

Plus, there was that midriff of hers. Authority figure? Please. Once Jason left the League of Assassins, he had masturbated to the memory of her a hundred different times. He had nothing but contempt and sexual thoughts towards her. There was a reason Batman with all his discipline creampied her.

"Talia." Jason filled his voice with indifference. Spectacular stomach and tits aside, she was dangerous. "What brings you here?"

Talia's eyes bore into his, her expression blank and unreadable. That was Talia al Ghul for you. A buxom Arab beauty who refused to back down when it came to matters most important to her. "I have returned to reclaim the League of Assassins," she declared, engulfing the air with classic authority. "I offer you a chance to join me once more."

His eyes wandered. Tits, check. Hips, check. Ass, check. Seriously, if she wasn't nearly twenty-five years his senior, he would have asked her to join him in bed.

Instead, Jason scoffed dismissively and sat up on his bed. "I've had enough of that life," he replied, rolling his shoulders casually. "It's not who I am anymore."

Talia came a step closer, her gaze unwavering. "Jason, we can make a difference together," she said, almost as if she had been reading his prior thoughts. His brows furrowed. "The League can be a **** for good under our guidance."

"Like what? Like the Justice League?" Jason scowled. "You and I both know your League's methods are ****. I won't go back to being a mindless weapon, no matter how tempting your offer may be. You can fake me being the Chosen One or whatever that stupid prophecy said. I'm not doing it."

A sigh and a nod. Although Talia acknowledged his refusal, her disappointment was evident. She turned to leave, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the room. His eyes honed in on her heart-shaped ass. "Remember, Jason, the offer still stands," she said. "Should you ever change your mind, you know where to come."

'Inside your ass?' Jason mocked in his head. 'Otherwise…'

"Leave," he ordered. "Now."

Talia frowned, foot on the window. "Of course, Jason."

The curtains flapped and she was gone. Jason was left alone in his thoughts once again. In particular, his mind was infatuated by the memory of her fantastic figure and her words. A blend of morality and horniness. It was like experiencing post-nut clarity except without the actual nutting.

"Fuckin' hell…" He turned over and sighed, wrapping his blanket around him. The warmth soothed the blood splattered down his arm. As weariness washed over him, he began to drift in and out of sleep. Minutes or perhaps hours passed. His injuries ached him and his mind ravaged his thoughts.

Gotham City was so fucked up. An absolute shit hole of a city. Yet how could Red Hood be its protector if he didn't love it? In a twisted way, he did love the city and he did not regret what had happened to him. Perhaps Bruce could have done better, perhaps Joker should have put down–who knew at this point? Morality was skewed in Gotham. Good or bad…deciding which was which was like a maze.

His vision continued to fade. Time ceased to matter. He didn't know what was happening to him nor did he care. He just wanted to fucking sleep…

His jittery rest was suddenly interrupted as he felt a presence beneath his blanket. A strong, weighty body…

'Who…?'