Chapter Text
The last thing Jason Todd remembered was the crack of gunfire in a damp Gotham alleyway, the strange, sickening sting in his shoulder, and the dark pressing in fast.
When he opened his eyes, the alley was gone.
Instead, he was staring up at a harsh, cold white ceiling.
Jason sat up instantly, hand shooting to his holster—empty. His jacket was gone, his Red Hood helmet nowhere to be found, and his weapons had been completely stripped. He was left in just his tactical pants and a plain black shirt.
He was in a room. A small one. Ten feet by ten feet, max.
In the center stood a small wooden table. Near the wall, a single bed—barely big enough for one grown man—and next to it, a miniature cabinet. A curtained corner revealed a basic toilet and a tiny bathtub. Everything was compact, sterile, and terrifyingly efficient.
And then, he heard it.
A soft, snuffling, wet gasp.
Jason froze. Slowly, his head turned toward the small cabinet next to the bed. Sitting on top of it was a simple wicker basket. He pushed himself up off the floor, every muscle in his body tense, and crept toward it.
Inside the basket lay a baby. A tiny, wriggling infant wrapped in a soft grey blanket, blue eyes blinking up at him with innocent, unfocused curiosity. A dark tuft of hair stuck up from the kid's scalp.
"What the..." Jason breathed.
On the central table lay a solitary white envelope. Jason snatched it up, ripping it open with a razor-sharp glare.
**Todd,
Congratulations. You are a father.
The boy in the basket carries your DNA, synthesized and grown through our facility's accelerated cellular program. He is yours in every sense of the word.
Consider this a live study. We require data on how an subject of your unique temperament and background raises an offspring. Everything you need for his survival—and yours—is provided in this room. Food, supplies, and basic instruction are fully stocked.
Do not attempt to destroy the observation equipment. We will be watching.**
Jason let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Fucking great," he muttered, crumpling the letter into a tight ball and tossing it to the floor.
He had no idea who these fuckers were. League of Assassins? A rogue Lab? A leftover LexCorp black-site?
He snapped his head toward the top corner of the room. Sure enough, the small red eye of a CCTV camera blinked silently down at him. Jason glared dead into the lens and flipped it a furious, two-handed bird.
He paced the tiny room in three quick strides.
One heavy metal door—flush against the frame, sealed airtight from the outside. No keyhole, no handle.
One window—thick, reinforced glass, barely six inches wide. Jason pressed his face against the pane. Outside, blinding white snow coated jagged mountain peaks as far as the eye could see. Wherever the hell he was, it wasn't Gotham. Running out there naked and unprepared meant freezing to death in five minutes, even if he could squeeze through a window built for a feral cat.
A high-pitched, warbling cry cut through his racing thoughts.
Jason whipped around. The baby was squirming now, his little face turning bright red as a full-blown infant wail erupted, echoing off the cramped concrete walls.
"Hey—whoa, hold on, shut—don't do that," Jason stammered, stepping toward the basket like it contained an unexploded grenade. "Kid, quiet down!"
The baby cried louder.
"Dammit," Jason swore softly. He snatched open the small cabinet next to the bed. Inside were neatly stacked rows of diapers, formula powder, sterilized baby bottles, baby wipes... and resting right on top of the pile, a glossy paperback book.
**The title read: How to Be a Great Parent: A Step-by-Step Guide for Beginners.**
Jason stared at the cover, his jaw clenching. He looked at the book, then at the screaming newborn, then at the blinking red light of the CCTV camera in the corner.
"You guys think this is funny, huh?" Jason growled toward the camera.
He snatched the book, kicked the cabinet door shut, and carefully reached into the basket. With clumsy, hesitant hands, he lifted the tiny infant against his chest, supporting the head the way he vaguely recalled from medical training. The baby instantly quieted down a fraction, pressing its warm face against Jason's neck.
Jason sank down onto the narrow bed, holding the kid in one arm while flipping open the parenting guide with the other.
He was trapped in a box. He had no weapons, no backup, and no location. But looking down at the little guy squirming in his grip, Jason's eyes narrowed into something lethal.
They want a study? Jason thought darkly. Fine. I'll play dad for now. But the second I figure out a way out of this room, every single person behind that camera is dying.