Mattheus returned to the kitchen.
He took a bottle of water from the fridge and made a sandwich with turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a bit of mayonnaise.
Nothing fancy, but quite filling.
When he returned, Jason had cleaned the blood from his face and placed a butterfly bandage over the cut near his hairline.
Mattheus put the sandwich and water on the counter, and Jason looked at them suspiciously.
He sighed, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite from one corner.
“Do you want me to drink from the bottle too?”
Jason snatched the sandwich from his hands.
Mattheus chewed slowly.
“Rude.”
“You’re the one who took a bite out of my sandwich.”
“Your sandwich?
I don’t remember you ordering anything.”
Jason ignored him and took a large bite.
Mattheus sat near him and took his manga, checking the pages for blood stains before placing it on the counter.
“So,” he said casually, “who did you fight?”
Jason paused.
For a moment, Mattheus expected him to offer some vague excuse, or maybe say nothing at all.
Jason swallowed his food before answering.
“A Russian psycho who calls himself the Beast.”
Mattheus’s eyebrows flew upward.
“The Beast?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Only rumors.”
That was not entirely a lie.
The rumors came from another universe in the form of comics.
The KGBeast.
Anatoli Knyazev.
A Soviet assassin who had come to Gotham to murder several important people involved in an American defense project.
Batman had fought him during Ten Nights of the Beast, one of the older storylines Mattheus remembered reading.
Older being the important word.
This Earth had entered the twenty-first century a few years ago.
The Soviet Union had collapsed more than a decade before he arrived in Gotham, so a Soviet Union assassin made no sense.
Maybe Knyazev worked for Russia in this Earth?
Or maybe he was part of a KGB cell that refused to accept the fall of the Soviet Union?
Who knew?
All Mattheus knew was that this storyline was one of the last before Jason’s death.
The thought made his stomach tighten.
He glanced at the teenager, and Jason looked back.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Mattheus forced himself to relax.
“What does a Russian psycho want in Gotham?”
Jason shrugged.
“Nothing good.”
Very informative.
Mattheus could have pressed, but doing so would make him suspicious.
He already knew enough to recognize the storyline, assuming events followed anything close to the comics.
The Beast would kill several people across Gotham, with Batman and Robin spending several nights hunting him down and trying to stop him.
At one point, the Beast would even cut off his own hand to escape capture.
Perfectly sane stuff.
Jason finished his sandwich and drank most of the water, then he packed the medical supplies back into the case with surprising neatness.
He stood and tested his injured arm.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jason took a folded fifty-dollar bill from one of the pouches on his utility belt and placed it on the counter.
“That’s too much for a sandwich and a few bandages.”
Jason shrugged and walked toward the door.
Mattheus unlocked it through the app.
Jason stopped with one hand on the handle and glanced back at him.
“You should probably stay inside tonight.”
“I generally do.”
“I’m serious.
The Beast is still out there.”
Mattheus glanced towards the bar, where the shotgun was hidden.
“Don’t worry.
I have protection.”
Jason looked at him, at his bartender apron, then around the cozy pub with a raised eyebrow.
“Sure you do.”
The disbelief in his voice was insulting.
“Good luck,” Mattheus said.
Jason gave him a short nod and opened the door.
He checked the street before slipping outside.
The door closed behind him, and Mattheus immediately locked it again.
He returned to the counter and picked up the fifty-dollar bill.
It vanished from his fingers in a flash of light.
50 SP deposited.
Mattheus looked toward the door.
Jason Todd had just eaten a sandwich in his pub.
“That was cool.”
The fact that he had met Jason shortly before one of the most infamous moments in Batman’s history was considerably less cool.
Mattheus knew Jason was destined to die.
Or, more accurately, he knew Jason died in several versions of DC history.
This universe could be different.
Jason could survive.
The Joker might never kidnap him, or if he did, things might play out completely differently from what Mattheus remembered.
His knowledge of DC was already proving unreliable, and comic-book continuity was a mess even before throwing the multiverse into the equation.
Still…
He would keep an eye on the situation from safely inside the Crossroads where no one could beat him to death with a crowbar.
***
Jason had barely taken five steps away from Crossroads when his comms started going crazy.
Batman, Batgirl, and Penny-One had been calling him repeatedly.
His comms had lost signal the moment he entered the pub, but the connection returned as soon as he stepped outside.
Jason winced.
He was going to get one hell of a lecture.
He activated his comms.
“Penny-One.”
Alfred answered immediately.
“Robin.
Are you injured?”
Jason looked down at his torn uniform.
“I’m fine.”
“Your biometrics suggest otherwise.”
“Nothing serious.
A few cuts and bruises.”
“Your comms ceased transmitting for more than twenty minutes.
Where are you?”
Jason glanced back.
The Crossroads stood behind him, warm light shining through its frosted windows.
From outside, it looked like an ordinary pub, but his comms had lost all connection inside.
Bruce had invested a fortune in private satellites so the comms should have signal even in the middle of the desert, yet their lost signal in some pub in the middle of Gotham?
He would investigate later.
“Some bar,” Jason said.
“I’ll be back at the cave in twenty.”
A second voice entered the channel.
“You were ordered to wait for backup.”
Jason’s jaw tightened.
“I had him.”
“You underestimated him,” Batman said.
“That mistake could have killed you.”
“I’m alive.
Thanks for the concern, B.”
“That isn’t what he meant,” Batgirl said.
Jason rolled his eyes.
“Of course it isn’t.”
“What you did was reckless,” she continued.
“The Beast is dangerous, J.
You shouldn’t have faced him alone.”
“I’ve been wearing this cape for over three years,” Jason snapped.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t act like it,” Batman said.
Jason stopped walking.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Robin.”
“I don’t need you constantly babying me!
You sent me into fights with Two-Face, Killer Croc, and half the freaks in Gotham, but the second I do something without asking permission, suddenly I’m some little kid who can’t handle himself.”
“You nearly died tonight.”
“But I didn’t.”
“That does not make your decision acceptable.”
Jason clenched his fists, but before he could answer, Alfred’s calm voice cut through the channel.
“We were worried about you, Master Jason.”
The anger in Jason’s chest lost some of its heat.
Being mad at Alfred was practically impossible.
He never made Jason feel like a dumb kid who should shut up and do what he was told.
Even when the butler thought Jason had done something spectacularly stupid, he let him explain himself first.
Jason exhaled slowly.
“I’m okay, Alfie.”
“I am very glad to hear that.”
“I’ll be home in twenty.”
“We shall have the medical bay prepared.”
Jason looked toward the Crossroads again.
“Don’t bother.
I already patched myself up.”
There was a brief silence.
“Where?” Batman asked.
Jason smirked.
“Some bar.”
He ended the connection before Batman could demand an address.
His motorcycle was still where he had left it several streets away.
Jason climbed onto it, pulled on his helmet, and started the engine.
***
Two days passed.
By late evening, Mattheus was leaning against the counter and wishing the final three hours of his workday would pass faster.
The Crossroads was doing well.
Too well.
There were currently a dozen customers inside the pub.
Several sat at the counter, two men were playing cards, and another group had pushed two tables together to argue loudly about politics.
Mattheus had spent most of the day moving between the kitchen and the bar.
He had served burgers, sandwiches, pizza, beer, coffee, and enough fries to feed a small army.
He really needed an employee.
The front door burst open, and every conversation inside the Crossroads stopped.
Mattheus and his customers turned toward the entrance.
One of his usual patrons stood there, pale and breathing heavily.
“Holy shit,” the man said.
“Some Russian psycho just killed eighty people at a banquet!”
The pub erupted.
“What?”
“Eighty?”
“Which banquet?”
“The one at that fancy new Hotel!
Politicians, military people, rich folks—the whole fucking room dropped dead!”
Mattheus covered his mouth with one hand and frowned.
The KGBeast had poisoned the banquet.
He remembered that part of the story.
The Beast had wanted to kill one man, so he poisoned an entire room to make sure his target died.
Dozens of people murdered as collateral damage.
Jason had not been exaggerating when he called him a fucking beast.
Right now the Beast and Batman might be fighting or in a chase, and it would not be long (a few days, maybe) before Batman corners him and the Beast cuts off his own arm to escape.
Mattheus lowered his hand.
Well.
That had nothing to do with him.
He picked up a clean glass and filled it from one of the taps for the man who had brought the news.
The customer accepted it with a shaking hand.
“On the house,” Mattheus said.
“You are the best, Matt.”
The conversations around them grew louder as everyone speculated about the attack, the victims, and what Batman would do when he found the man responsible.
Mattheus began pouring the next order.
That’s just life in Gotham.
***
PS: Someone asked if I have a Discord.
I’ve never really used it before, so I’m a complete noob when it comes to Discord, but I figured I might as well give it a try.
So, instead, I’m going to set one objective at a time.
Once you reach the first one, I’ll reveal the next.
Objective #1:
Hopefully, you guys won’t reach this objective until Tuesday or Wednesday…
Please have mercy on my writing schedule.