The Stage is Set
I do not own any of the characters in this story. They belong to their respective owners and writers. I do not make any money from this story or this blog.
Jason Todd was in a hell of a spot.
He was in this sticky situation all because he knew too much, which was usually how it worked. He was a loose end that needed to be snipped. Or rather, chased down, shot at, and then tied to a chair with enough bailing wire to create a barbed wire fence all the way around Oklahoma with some to spare. It seemed like overkill.. Normally, these were the situations he lived for. He loved the idea of narrow escapes, daring fights, and judicious ass kickings.
Two-Face knew he was trained and trained well. He might have even guessed that Red Hood was once Robin. Jason didn’t actually know for sure but that probably explained why Two-Face was taking absolutely no chances. There were enough explosives in the room to create a small crater in the middle of the docks.
He probably would have been dead by how had it not been for Two-Face’s perverted sense of justice and his obsession with that damn coin. It just prolonged the inevitable and left Two-Face with a squeaky-clean conscience. If the coin landed heads Two-Face would have simply put a bullet through his temple. Some kind of guardian angel was evidently keeping an eye on Jason but he had no idea why.
Sweat poured from his face as Jason tested the bailing wire digging into his wrists. He could feel a warm trickle of blood ooze down his hands and drip from his fingers. The bright red numbers on the clock attached to the bomb stared him down. Beads of sweat slowly popped up along the back of his neck.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” he muttered, twisting his hands backward and forward in the wire. The numbers on the clock glared at him. Six minutes till…
Wire was difficult to wiggle out of. Rope was easy. Rope was flexible and malleable. It burned against your hands but it didn’t cut unless you were stupid. Wire was different. You had to twist your way out, test the limits of the wire, and try not to let the sharp little edges rip your hands to pieces. He had already spent five minutes bloodying his hands on this coil of bailing wire. Of all the places that he could have a hole in his education, this was a hell of a spot.
Jason paused to stare up at the ceiling, catching his breath. He listened as the clock on the giant stack of C4 beeped, counting down the last minutes of his life. Every second was precious. Jason took a deep breath and tried again at the wires.
If there was one thing he hated, it was déjà vu. He struggled, muttering and cursing at the wires, “What is it with all these… fucking… costumed… lunatics… trying to blow me up? Do I have a target on my shirt? Do I have a sign over my head that says ‘blow me’?”
He laughed at his own joke and went back to struggling at the wires, his curses growing gradually more and more colorful as the clock ticked down the minutes.
Five minutes, thirty seconds
To say that things looked pretty bleak was the understatement of the week.
He leaned back, still fiddling at the wire and muttering aloud, “Think… do I have any regrets? Anything I need to get out into the open? I mean… shit… “
He was getting sidetracked. In his mind, there was no way he was going to die. There was no need to confess all his sins here, in this drab little spit of a warehouse. He would figure out the wire in the next five minutes and nineteen seconds and get out in plenty of time.
Link to Chapter Two