ICARUS BLAZING ✦ jason todd

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑.

[ then ]

For Jason Todd, things started turning around when he turned thirteen, the day Maroni put a bullet in his parents' heads.

Earned him a good deal of street cred too; giving up the location of two of the most notorious loan shark evaders in Gotham did wonders for him with the mob. Maroni gave him a little corner of freedom in Hapling Hills, where Jason could do anything he wanted without any interference. His parents' lives in exchange for liberty was a price Jason was more than eager to pay.

It sounds incredibly cold for him to admit it, but fuck if he cares. Cathy and Willis Todd stopped being his family the second they tried to unsuccessfully sell him to Falcone in a futile attempt to pay off their debts. He was only a baby, barely a few hours old, when his father decided that Jason's life was nothing more than a bargaining chip. They never left him forget how he was such a loser — that they couldn't even give him away.

By his thirteenth birthday, his parents had broken enough deals and pissed off enough people that when it came to giving them up, Jason didn't bat an eye. Like his mother used to say — family's just more gravity.

At fifteen, he is now the best runner in Gotham. There is almost nothing he isn't able to or willing to steal; as long as he keeps his share of Hapling Hills, he's his own man. There is an unmatched serenity that comes with knowing he's got nothing to be afraid of anymore — no more bruises, no more broken bones, no more beltings until his back is raw.

For the first time in a long time, Jason Todd is fucking happy.

Of course, as it always goes, nothing ever stays the same.

The beginning of his downfall comes in the form of a girl. He sees her for the first time in a Bowery alley one evening as he stops for a smoke after another money run. He doesn't mean to notice her but it's hard not to; she has a school uniform on, the kind with the short skirts and fancy blazers. It makes her stick out like a sore thumb. No one in the Bowery can afford that kind of obliviousness.

She's pretty in a "go-fuck-yourself" kind of way. It's her legs, really, that draw him in. They're covered with black stockings ripped at the knees, and it's this stark contrast against her otherwise pristine uniform that surprisingly gets him going.

Jason has to stop himself from looking. There's no shortage of girls where he's from, girls who don't think they're too good for him just because of where they go to school or how much money they have. He decides to mind his own damn business. Girls like her didn't fuck around with guys like him, and whatever's got her wandering through alleyways couldn't be good for him.

At least, that's what he tells himself until he sees the two men following her.

His instincts kick in and before he knows it, he's putting out his half-smoked cigarette and trails after them, drawing his hood up. It isn't until he gets closer to the guys that he recognizes them; two of Maroni's newest thugs. They're older than him but Jason's fairly sure he can take them. And if he can't, there's always the gun in the back of his waistband.

The two assholes catcall at the girl. She wheels around, and to Jason's surprise, immediately strikes a defensive stance. It's not perfect — her legs are slightly too far apart — but he gets the feeling that this isn't the first time she's held her own.

"Woah, doll, we ain't here to hurt you," one of the guys says. His tone is greasy. Filthy. It almost makes Jason gag.

"What's a thing like you doing 'round these parts?" the other asks.

Jason wants to know the same thing.

Her voice is surprisingly steady when she answers. "Walking."

So, she's a smartass too. Jason bites back a grin.