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iesikaThis is a repost, since this particular installment of the series was a comment fic.
Series Title: Kings Among Runaways
Story Title: Looking Out for the Little Guy
Summary: The AU where Tim ran away from home at the tender age of mumbledyteen, and Jason got let off with a warning, the night he met Batman.
Warnings: Sexual content including minors, both disturbing and hopefully not.
Note: The series is indexed here.
The kid is tiny, practically a midget, and way too young to be loose on this side of town by himself after dark, which means he's either lost or has nowhere to go. It's really not Jason's problem, but he keeps his eye out, just the same.
The kid was either smart enough or bored enough to keep in a public place, but the arcade isn't so well lit, and it's closing in an hour. Jason's got a nice little squat picked out on upper McKean, but he doesn't feel like braving the rain out there unless he has to. Maybe it'll die down. If not, he's going to have to jump the turnstile at the subway, because these are his best threads. You don't pick pockets looking like a skel - it's the fastest way to get yourself arrested.
The kid is kind of hovering over by the skee ball machines, but he isn't actually playing. He's probably broke. There's a chance he's just waiting out the rain before heading home to a loving family and a nice warm bed…but Jason doesn't think so. The kid's clothes are good quality, but they're dirty and a little ragged. For whatever reason, he hasn't been home for a while - if he's got a home to go to.
Jason sighs and makes himself pay attention to the rigged pinball machine he's been alternately sucking at and beating up for the last ten minutes. It lets out an electronic wail of protest as he rocks it over on two legs and then back, but he's pretty sure that's the only way to get the ball over into the prize zone, and he already knows Speilmann isn't going to come hassle him unless he breaks something or starts a fight.
Except - he glances up when he loses his ball, and Speilmann's not behind the counter anymore. He's probably in the back, counting up, which means there's nobody on the floor but him and a couple of kids - and that dude in the coat Speilmann's had him run out of here twice before, for his general creepitude. He's never actually made a go for one of the kids, but Jason's pretty sure that has more to do with a lack of opportunity than a lack of inclination.
Jason cracks his knuckles and heads in the creep's direction, sweeping his eyes around the place as he goes. Manny's got his little brother over by the door in case they need to bolt, which is good, because Manny has a record and if the cops get called, he's going to have to book it. That does mean Jason's going in without backup, but he's pretty sure he can handle one middle aged loser. Everybody's in plain sight, except where's the kid? The little one? Did he leave while Jason was fighting with the machine? While Jason's looking around for him, the skeezeball ducks into one of the racing booths and yanks the curtain shut.
About a second later, the kid tumbles out the other side toward the pool tables. He skids across the ground, pulls himself up - Jason's moving. That was enough, in his book. This creep is going down and going down hard, and if Jason's got anything to say about it, he's never even going to think about coming back here.
The creep sticks his head out of the curtains and takes a step toward the kid. Jason's maybe three steps behind him and he draws back for a punch, but before he can do anything, the creep's doubled over and there's a four ball rolling across the floor away from him. The kid - the little one, the one Jason's trying to protect, comes at the guy half a second later with a cue ball in his fist and cracks the guy in the skull. The guy hits the ground hard - doesn’t even make a sound. The kid just stands there, breathing easy.
Well, well, well, Jason thinks. He smiles. "Hey, kid."
The kid looks up, wary, still clutching the pool ball. There's a little red smear across the ivory white, and the wiry muscles of his forearm are pulled taut
"Nice arm," Jason says, and smiles.
END
Series Title: Kings Among Runaways
Story Title: Looking Out for the Little Guy
Summary: The AU where Tim ran away from home at the tender age of mumbledyteen, and Jason got let off with a warning, the night he met Batman.
Warnings: Sexual content including minors, both disturbing and hopefully not.
Note: The series is indexed here.
The kid is tiny, practically a midget, and way too young to be loose on this side of town by himself after dark, which means he's either lost or has nowhere to go. It's really not Jason's problem, but he keeps his eye out, just the same.
The kid was either smart enough or bored enough to keep in a public place, but the arcade isn't so well lit, and it's closing in an hour. Jason's got a nice little squat picked out on upper McKean, but he doesn't feel like braving the rain out there unless he has to. Maybe it'll die down. If not, he's going to have to jump the turnstile at the subway, because these are his best threads. You don't pick pockets looking like a skel - it's the fastest way to get yourself arrested.
The kid is kind of hovering over by the skee ball machines, but he isn't actually playing. He's probably broke. There's a chance he's just waiting out the rain before heading home to a loving family and a nice warm bed…but Jason doesn't think so. The kid's clothes are good quality, but they're dirty and a little ragged. For whatever reason, he hasn't been home for a while - if he's got a home to go to.
Jason sighs and makes himself pay attention to the rigged pinball machine he's been alternately sucking at and beating up for the last ten minutes. It lets out an electronic wail of protest as he rocks it over on two legs and then back, but he's pretty sure that's the only way to get the ball over into the prize zone, and he already knows Speilmann isn't going to come hassle him unless he breaks something or starts a fight.
Except - he glances up when he loses his ball, and Speilmann's not behind the counter anymore. He's probably in the back, counting up, which means there's nobody on the floor but him and a couple of kids - and that dude in the coat Speilmann's had him run out of here twice before, for his general creepitude. He's never actually made a go for one of the kids, but Jason's pretty sure that has more to do with a lack of opportunity than a lack of inclination.
Jason cracks his knuckles and heads in the creep's direction, sweeping his eyes around the place as he goes. Manny's got his little brother over by the door in case they need to bolt, which is good, because Manny has a record and if the cops get called, he's going to have to book it. That does mean Jason's going in without backup, but he's pretty sure he can handle one middle aged loser. Everybody's in plain sight, except where's the kid? The little one? Did he leave while Jason was fighting with the machine? While Jason's looking around for him, the skeezeball ducks into one of the racing booths and yanks the curtain shut.
About a second later, the kid tumbles out the other side toward the pool tables. He skids across the ground, pulls himself up - Jason's moving. That was enough, in his book. This creep is going down and going down hard, and if Jason's got anything to say about it, he's never even going to think about coming back here.
The creep sticks his head out of the curtains and takes a step toward the kid. Jason's maybe three steps behind him and he draws back for a punch, but before he can do anything, the creep's doubled over and there's a four ball rolling across the floor away from him. The kid - the little one, the one Jason's trying to protect, comes at the guy half a second later with a cue ball in his fist and cracks the guy in the skull. The guy hits the ground hard - doesn’t even make a sound. The kid just stands there, breathing easy.
Well, well, well, Jason thinks. He smiles. "Hey, kid."
The kid looks up, wary, still clutching the pool ball. There's a little red smear across the ivory white, and the wiry muscles of his forearm are pulled taut
"Nice arm," Jason says, and smiles.
END
