Chapter Text
The first thing Hood noticed was the aching band around his chest. His head felt heavy; he was vertical, not horizontal, like one usually was when they'd been knocked out col---
He jerked awake, slamming his head back against the wall. Spots danced in his vision--- Where the hell was his helmet?--- and he realized abruptly that he was secured to the wall by, yup, a band of metal around his chest. Two more secured his wrists. He could stand, so he did, taking pressure off of his ribs instead of just--- hanging there. “Where the fuck---”
“Oh, good,” a giggling voice drawled. “he’s awake.”
Hood tried to flinch back. His heart shot into his throat when he truly couldn’t move. He blinked rapidly, trying to pick apart the near-darkness. No, please no---
“What’s going on?” another voice rasped. Two-Face. Two-Face AND the Joker?
“Where are we?” someone else hissed. It sounded like Poison Ivy.
Hood’s heart dropped to his stomach before he realized that this--- was not about him. Frantic inspection of the room, the very small, very dark, very low-ceilinged room, showed a dozen more people lining the walls, each of them secured just like himself. The lighting was red, revealing disturbingly little, but Hood could pick out Ivy’s slim frame, and Two-Face’s, and right across from him--- yup, the Joker. Secured just like Hood was, thank God.
Hood schooled his features, slowing his breaths, and clocked everyone else instead of making any eye contact. The dread creeping down his spine was barely better than the tingling panic pressing at his throat. Roman Sionis, Victor Zsasz, Dr.-Fucking-Pyg. Slade Wilson was here, and so was Hugo Strange, and Ego Koldan for some dumb reason---
Ten. Ten of them, Red Hood included; all villains, which was the only connection Hood had noticed straight out of unconsciousness. He’d been drugged; he couldn’t remember where he’d been before now, and definitely not how he’d gotten here. The drug had also blocked his bonds, dammit. No chance of calling for help, but it had been a slim chance, anyway. Arsenal wasn’t the Flash.
“What’s going on?” Zsasz groaned angrily, tugging at his restraints for all the good it did. The eerie red light bounced easily off his shiny bald head.
“We appear to be prisoners,” Strange murmured with calm interest, examining his own restraints.
“No fuckin’ shit,” Two-Face snarled, leaning as far forward as he could. “Who’s in charge here? Show yourself you yellow-bellied---”
“Oh, good, let’s fight,” Ego muttered dryly, relaxing into his restraints like they were a plush couch. “That’ll speed things up.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” Sionis growled lowly, and Hood shivered, because no fucking no this could not be happening to him right now, the room was too small and these people were too dangerous and who the fuck got the drop on Roman Sionis--- “Maybe we’re supposed to fight.”
“Kind of hard to fight when you’re chained up,” Ivy snapped back.
“Gathered here are some of the greatest minds of Gotham’s villainy,” Strange pointed out, raising an unsettling grin. “Perhaps we are meant to work together.”
“Ding ding ding,” an echoing voice chuckled.
Hood swore in Russian. Ego gave him a raised eyebrow. Hood desperately wanted to flip him off.
“Who are you?” Two-Face demanded of thin air.
“No one of consequence,” the voice answered, sounding far too delighted for no one of consequence. “Or, at least, no one you’ll care about until the challenge has been won. You are gathered here today for a test. In just one moment, I am going to unlock your restraints. You will have to work together to escape. Your level of success will determine the winner among your ranks, and that winner will become my apprentice.”
“What the fuck,” Hood couldn’t help muttering, because what the fuck? Who was this creep? A new super-villain? An arrogant god?
“As you may have noticed,” the voice continued, definitely gleeful now. “I have removed your helmets, masks, and scent blockers to make this game a little more… interesting. Better keep a cap on your emotions, men, or risk ticking off your teammates. Oh, and lady, of course.”
A few of these people were well past the point of “ticked off”, in Hood’s opinion, but he’d barely opened his mouth to retort before the rest of that statement sunk in. No scent blockers. He could smell it now that he was paying attention--- The room had been sterile just a minute ago, but since everyone was awake, talking, and attempting to escape, the space was quickly filling with a cacophony of dangerous scents. Strange’s deeply twisted alpha scent, Ivy’s indignantly flowery alpha scent, Ego’s sharp dangerous alpha---
All of them were alphas. Except--- Hood’s spine went cold as he finally smelled his own. Anxious-upset-feral-vulnerable-weak.
The Joker began cackling, and Hood suddenly felt his instincts scream at him to run run run because he remembered now who else was an omega. Twisted-gleeful-sadistic-unstable-obsessed.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and he wasn’t Hood anymore, he was Robin; he was stuck, stuck with an omega that kicked his spine and purred when he cried and hit him with that crowbar over and over and over---
“Well well well,” Strange murmured lowly as Jason fought to stay present. “We have a few omegas on our hands.”
The atmosphere froze, taught, and Jason suppressed a gag--- Why could he smell everything so fucking strongly; why was he so afraid? He wasn’t helpless, he was the Red Hood, he…
That’s where he’d been before--- before the darkness, before waking up in this hellish nightmare of a room, he’d ended patrol early so he could head home to safety and warmth and solitude---
He was going into heat.
Everyone stayed quiet as, despite Jason’s effort to suppress his scent, the entire room came to the exact same realization. Then, without warning, the restraints snapped open, and Jason stumbled forward, then back back back, hitting the wall, into a corner, hide---
There was nowhere to go.
Jason snarled angrily, pressing himself as far back as he could go. His wired senses picked up on everything. Sionis’ twitching hand, Strange’s forbidding smile, Zsasz’s stinky sadism. Pyg licked his fat lips, reeking of twisted obsession, and the Joker danced happily, back and forth and back and forth with that giggling cackling laughing---
“Everyone calm down,” Ego’s voice boomed. He stepped to the middle of the room, hands raised. “We need to work together. Let’s get out of this hellhole before making any… hasty decisions.”
“On the contrary,” Strange denied primly. “This will be highly interesting.”
Sionis flexed his fists, scarred face twisted into amusement. “I agree.”
“Come on sonny, why don’t we have a little fun?” The Joker spread his arms like a cheerful showman. “There’s enough revenge to go around, folks!!! Sharing is caring!!!”
“Fuck,” Jason muttered on autopilot. He felt for his guns, for his knives; everything was gone--- “Fuck.”
The tension in the room quivered, ready to snap, and just as the Joker hopped forward---
Slade Wilson sidestepped, cutting off Jason’s view. The omega shrank back. This guy was easily the most physically dangerous person here; Jason wouldn’t last five minutes in a fi---
“Listen to me,” Wilson growled lowly, so low that Jason wouldn’t have heard him if not for pre-heat sensory overload. “You have two options.”
“I have more than that,” Jason snarled back. He couldn’t see the others, but he could smell them. They were closing in. They were waiting for Wilson to land the first hit. (No, brutal pain would be too easy for these people, wouldn’t it? They were going to torture him. The Joker---)
Wilson’s voice filtered distantly through growing panic. “You are going to die.”
Jason’s gaze snapped up in shock. He met one narrowed green eye.
“You are going to die,” Wilson repeated slowly, his back still turned to the others. “and I can stop it.”
Jason lifted his lip in a snarl--- Of course the huge alpha could stop it, he was Deathstroke, but--- “You just want my torture all to yourself.”
Wilson snarled back, which was--- unusual. Deathstroke didn’t succumb to annoyance so easily. “They’re getting close. Choose… carefully.”
Jason opened his mouth to tell the mercenary to fuck off--- He wasn’t going down without a fight--- but he choked when Wilson raised his wrist to chest level, revealing a scent so controlled that Jason could only smell it within twelve inches. Vengeful-possessive-cunning-powerful-readytofight.
Jason leaned back against the wall, suppressing a whimper. There existed very few scents that inspired genuine fear. This was one of them. “Holy SHIT.”
“Choose,” Wilson reminded him. Sionis took a step closer to the left. Joker started giggling again to the right. The smells of sadistic alphas began clogging the room, filling Jason’s thoughts, his nostrils, his fear--- RUN--- but there was nowhere to go.
It was being claimed by fucking Slade Wilson--- or death.
Jason had barely tipped his head to the side before Deathstroke moved. Sharp teeth buried into the crook of his shoulder, and Jason yelped at the first stab of pain, slouching immediately. Alpha venom shot through his veins--- Holy fucking hell, Wilson’s venom was strong--- and a new bond snapped into place, bristling with fierce-protective-MINE.
Jason went down, crumbling weakly as uncontrollable submission swept through his brain. He didn’t feel himself hitting the ground, but he did feel the fear. He hadn’t expected---
Wilson turned away from him, crouching, and the tension snapped in two. Jason watched with increasingly clouded vision as the mercenary lunged, knocking back three charging alphas with one arm. He punched one shadow in the gut, then pulled another’s arm out of its socket; everything was so chaotic, so loud; scared-dominant-flee-fight-glee-sadistic-protect-defend-attack; everyone’s scents were mixing together and---
Jason couldn’t breathe.
“You---” Wilson growled above the noise of combat, and everything stopped when he grabbed the Joker’s head with both hands. “You.”
“What a delightful twist,” the insane omega cackled, wriggling as Wilson lifted him from the ground. His wild eyes glanced towards Jason, and his blood-red grin widened. “Well, sonny boy? Who’s---”
Wilson twisted sharply to the left; the room echoed with a loud snap. The Joker’s limp body hit the floor.
“Well,” Sionis muttered distantly. “Shit.”
Wilson stepped on the Joker’s chest, took a deep breath, and bellowed. The enraged sound deafened Jason’s ears, and he whimpered as everyone else backed the hell away, trembling muscles going limp. Please don’t hurt me don’t touch me don’t leave me please---
A large shadow knelt by his head, reaching with an exposed wrist. Vengeful-protective-victorious-mine-safe. “Sleep.”
Darkness pulled him under.