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Jason had been undercover for two weeks now, putting in the hours as a low level henchman in one of Scarecrow’s gangs. He was supposed to be gathering intel. He was supposed to be blending in. He was supposed to be nondescript and forgettable.
He was not supposed to be galvanizing the henchmen toward revolt.
But then, when had Jason ever done what was expected of him? Tim did what was expected, Dick did what was “right,” and Damian did his best to do more than he thought others expected. But Jason? Jason did what worked.
“I’m just saying, Vinnie,” Jason said in his thickest Gotham accent, “when I henched for Two Face, I made enough to cover my dental costs when I took a shot from the Bat.” He fiddled with the unsealed gas canister he had half filled with fear gas, holding it much closer to his face than Alfred would approve of. “So if you can’t even afford to take care of your root canal, it seems like there's a problem in management.”
Jake, a wiry guy who looked like a punch from Batman might snap him in two, laughed. “Well, Two Face is back in Arkham, so I guess you’re stuck here with us and our lousy pay.”
“No, I think Tyler’s right.” Vinnie was your classic henchman. Big, buff, and mean looking. He’d worked the docks for years until an injury messed up his shoulder. Years of back breaking work, only to be cast aside. They found a younger guy to take his place. There was always a younger, stronger guy looking for work. That made Vinnie bitter.
But there were always job openings for henchmen in Gotham. Always someone looking for people with nowhere else to go and nothing to lose.
Vinnie was angry and looking for a way to take back the power he had lost. Vinnie was also someone the other henchmen would listen to, some out of respect, others fear. Which was why Jason had chosen him to be the leader. He’d prefer to lead the charge himself, but then he couldn’t maintain plausible deniability to Bruce when things got messy.
Vinnie stood, addressing the scattered groups of henchmen about the room. “Look at this place. We are the only thing keeping Scarecrow’s operation running! He isn’t even on site most of the time. Which is very convenient for him in case we get raided by the cops or a Bat.”
There was a scattering of murmured agreements, but they sounded more resigned than ready to act.
“Sure, Crane made the fancy gas, but without us, it doesn’t move. Without us, there is no plan. So without us, there’s no success!”
Jason could tell Vinnie was losing them a bit. He’d gone a bit too big, a bit too far from what really mattered to most of the guys here. But Jason could help with that.
“Who cares if the plan’s a success?” Jason challenged, “It’s not like the Scarecrow is gonna rob the mint or something. There’s no big score coming for us to get a piece of.”
Vinnie’s eyes gleamed. “That’s true! So we should be making more than those gangs who expect a cut of the spoils after a job. Crane wants us to do the work? Then he’d better make it worth our time!”
Jason gave a loud cheer of agreement that was echoed around the room. People were moving closer to hear better. This was going well.
“So what are you suggesting?” A guy called Mac crossed his arms, looking unimpressed by the rabble. “That we go on strike or something? Best case scenario: Crane finds a new group of mooks to do his dirty work and we end up out of a job. Worst case scenario: we end up in the ground.”
Jason could feel the air being sucked out of Vinnie’s sails. The crowd got quiet, looking around at each other. No one here wanted to die.
Jason shrugged. “I dunno. Crane never really seemed like much of a gun guy.” He pulled the gas mask (standard henchman issue) from his belt and held it up. “Besides, he’s already given us the defense against his favorite weapon.”
“That’s right!” Vinnie grinned triumphantly and held up his own mask. “Crane’s an egghead academic who’s probably never gotten his hands dirty in his life! Always looking for someone else to do the real work while he benefits!”
Most everyone was on their feet now. There was energy in the air, and it was building again.
Mac still wasn’t convinced. “You really think Crane will just roll over and give in to your demands?”
One more push.
Jason shrugged casually. “Maybe Crane shouldn’t be the one in charge anymore.”
Jason had gift wrapped the idea, and he watched Vinnie tear into it like a kid on Christmas.
“Yeah, screw Crane!” Vinnie climbed up on a table that Jason worried might not be sturdy enough to support him. “We don’t need him. He doesn’t respect us. He isn’t going to give us what we’re worth, so maybe we take his little toys and go get it ourselves!”
The crowd was electric, drawing closer to Vinnie, like so many moths toward a flame. Only Mac seemed unswayed, shaking his head and leaving the room.
Jason followed after him, under the guise of needing a smoke, while the others started to discuss the best target for their first independent job. He clung to the shadows, following Mac out of the warehouse. He really didn’t need this guy tipping off Crane to the sudden change in management. Just because Crane didn’t usually favor guns didn’t mean he wouldn’t get others to use them for him.
Mac stopped between some shipping crates and looked around before he pulled out a cell phone.
Mac’s voice was hushed, and Jason could just barely make out his side of the conversation.
“Hey, it's me.”
Jason palmed his lighter, the only improvised weapon he had on hand, ready to beam Mac in the head with it if this conversation went sideways.
“I know it's too early for check in, but I don’t think we’re going to be getting anywhere near Crane on this one.”
Interesting. It seemed like Jason wasn’t the only outsider who had infiltrated this gang.
“Because the henchmen are in full revolt! They’re talking about hitting a bank or something themselves and cutting Crane out entirely. We'll have to send units in much sooner than planned.”
Well, that meant tipping off the GCPD was taken care of, at least.
Jason strolled back toward the warehouse and lit his cigarette, mentally running through the checklist for clearing out his safehouse and burning the “Henchman Tyler” identity.
“Viva la revolución,” he muttered happily.
Two nights later, Jason sat in the Batcave, feet up on a chair as he went through debriefing.
Bruce was, of course, brooding. “You were supposed to be undercover for at least two more weeks, Jason.”
Jason shrugged. “O got a tip the place was going to be raided and got me out of there. Fixed up the records that ‘Tyler’ got arrested with everyone else, then extradited to Central City on an outstanding warrant, not that I think anyone will bother to check.”
Bruce glared at him. “Barbara said that the henchmen had decided to turn against Crane and pursue their own plan. That’s the sixth report of disgruntled henchmen mutiny in the past three months, two of which you were involved with.”
Four actually, but Bruce didn’t need to know about all of Jason’s cases. He was curious about the other two though…
Jason let the unspoken accusation hang there for a moment before shaking his head and trying very hard to sound baffled by this development. “No one wants to work anymore.”
Of all of the things Jason would accuse Bruce of being (out of touch, a hypocrite, etc.) dumb was not among them. He eyed Jason, like he was trying to decide if this possible transgression was worth the fight or not.
“Jason–”
“Look, Bruce,” Jason interrupted and held up his hand, “I got a sample of the new fear toxin, got info on his current supply line, and tapped phones at four locations for O to monitor and follow up on. All of which I could have done in an hour, in and out, without leaving a trace. Scarecrow isn’t cooking anything up that requires over a month of undercover work, you just thought he was because some lackey made an error and got him ten times the amount of chemicals he intended to order. The henchmen all got arrested, for whatever that’s worth, and strikingly, no one died. Honestly, I deserve a gold star.”
Bruce was grinding his teeth, so Jason knew that he’d more or less won this round.
He stood and stretched out his shoulders. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go enjoy whatever delicious meal Alfred has prepared for my homecoming, sleep on one of your ridiculously expensive mattresses, and then get back to the cases that are actually important.”
Bruce nodded, resigned. “You’re dismissed.”
As Jason headed for the stairs, Bruce called out, “Just please don’t bring the rebellions home with you.”
Jason smirked. “Don’t be silly, Bruce. Alfred is an excellent leader.”