Chapter Text
Sally's Diner is the closest to an upscale restaurant you can get in Crime Alley- most of the employees shower at least twice a week, only the exterior walls have graffiti, all of the windows are intact, the soda fountains and ketchup dispensers work, the tables mostly match and are only occasionally sticky, and the rats stay out of the kitchen.
Plus, they have good food- the ingredients are only occasionally past their best-by dates and never straight-up rotten, the burgers are to die for, and Sally's Random Specials are always interesting, if not always perfectly palatable.
Jason isn't here for the food, though. Sally doesn't ask questions, doesn't talk to the cops, and doesn't tolerate fighting in her diner, and since truly neutral territory is hard to come by in Crime Alley, Sally's Diner is the next best bet.
Yesterday, one of his goons had passed along that someone wanted to meet up with the Red Hood in Sally's Diner at 6:30 tomorrow for something important, and had flagged them down to set it up.
The most Jason managed to get on the guy, beyond the basic description of "20-something white guy with blue eyes and blond hair wearing a Flash-themed hoodie and blue jeans", was that he wasn't a part of any of the normal criminal operations around here, no one recognized him for any other reason(despite his casual confidence asking to meet with a crime lord) and he definitely wasn't a native.
This entire situation is about as suspicious as a fake ID drawn in crayon, but Jason just doesn't know enough about the situation to get away with refusing the meetup.
Jason arrived a few minutes early, to reduce the risk of getting ambushed on the way to the Diner, then took a seat at a two-person table, facing the entrance with his back to a divider.
The Diner's mostly empty, given how it's still dark out, and the only other customer is a teenage girl with a backpack in her lap, scarfing down a burger in the corner booth and occasionally glancing nervously at Jason. It's perfectly reasonable, considering that Jason came in his full Red Hood getup, guns, helmet and all.
At 6:30, on the dot, Flash Hoodie Guy steps through the door(still wearing the same clothes), eyes the menu and then walks up to the middle-aged man manning the cash register- Sam, a self-confessed former thief who shaped up after getting out of jail.
"Six cheeseburgers with bacon, two large fries, two large strawberry milkshakes and two Random Specials, please." Flash Hoodie Guy rattles off, then dumps a pile of bills on the counter without visibly bothering to count them. "My order totals to 56.95, just give me a nickel."
Without looking up, Sam totals Flash Hoodie Guy's order and his cash, then sighs, sweeps the bills into the register and hands over a nickel.
"Your order will be ready in a few minutes. I'll call you over when it's done." Sam drones, then ducks into the kitchen and starts hauling burger patties out of the freezer. (Sally can't afford to hire more than one employee for the night shift, so Sam does double duty as cook and cashier.)
Jason's impressed- as far as he knows, this is the first time this guy has been in Sally's Diner, and he didn't pause for more than a moment while calculating the price and counting the bills. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought that Flash Hoodie Guy had calculated the price ahead of time.
Also, that's a hell of a lot of food for one person to eat, and Jason's pretty sure that this guy's either a meta, or weirdly generous and/or trying to get Jason to take off his helmet.
Flash Hoodie Guy takes a seat across from Jason, the chair legs skidding across the tile with the low rumble of metal dragged across stone.
He's not wearing a mask, but Jason finds it weirdly hard to place exactly what he looks like, beyond "fair skin, blond hair, blue eyes", and a vague feeling of familiarity.
"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here, and why I requested this meeting." Flash Hoodie Guy starts, casually leaning back in his chair and swinging one leg into his lap. "I certainly would, if I was you."
"Damn right." Jason agrees, the voice modulator in his helmet turning his words into a vaguely demonic-sounding growl.
Flash Hoodie Guy chuckles. "Well, all you need to know is that I'm with the West Coast Syndicate, and we have an offer for you. One you can refuse, but that greatly benefits you."
Jason knows about the West Coast Syndicate- one of the largest organized crime factions in the United States, and globally. They're not as bloody or blatant as some, and mostly trade in white collar crime and underworld services- information brokerage, blackmail and corporate espionage, stolen, rare or illegal goods, forgery of art, documents and identities, quiet frame jobs and crime scene cleanups, that sort of thing.
"Oh?" Jason leans forward, tilting his head to the side. "I thought you guys stayed out of Gotham. How do I know you're really with them?"
Flash Hoodie Guy nods and pulls out his phone. "I thought you'd say that. I think I'll let the boss explain."
With a single coordinated movement, Flash Hoodie Guy dials a number, sets the phone to speaker and sets it down on the table in front of Jason.
Unsurprisingly, there's no video on the other end of the call, just a picture of a flower garden full of purple-and-yellow irises, and the contact name "Mother of the West".
Jason swallows nervously- this is looking more and more like the real deal. No one's ever seen Mrs. West in person and lived to spill the details, but everyone knows what her digital aliases and preferred contact methods look like. (Well, at least the ones she wants every old hoodlum to know about.)
And when a representative from a major crime syndicate shows up, you pay attention. The Red Hood Gang is small fry compared to the West Coast Syndicate.
"Hello, Red Hood." a woman's voice, cool and smooth, greets. "Well done on your overthrow of Black Mask. It was excellently done, the sort of work I'd expect from my own children. Let's get down to business, shall we?"
"You're certainly well-informed, Mrs West." Jason acknowledges, keeping his voice light. "I was told you had an offer for me?"
"Yes. My offer is simple, and should be within your means." A sigh. "To put it simply, one of my associates has plans to move their family into Gotham. I need you to make sure law enforcement and the Bat stays off their trail for the indefinite future, and that their children are watched and cared for."
"You really want me to play babysitter?" Jason asks, slightly incredulously. "I'm a crime lord. What part of "Red Hood, notorious crime lord and murderous vigilante" screams "qualified babysitter" to you?"
"You're the only local I trust to do the job well and keep everything you do and learn on the low-down, while not exploiting this opportunity for personal gain." Mrs. West replies cooly. "I hope you will not betray that trust."
"What do I get out of this?" Jason asks, eyes narrowed. "I don't do jobs for free, not if they come with this many strings attached."
"You will be reimbursed for any personal funds or resources expended in the pursuit of your duty, and for any injuries or losses sustained in their protection, as well as provided with ten thousand dollars in monthly income, funneled discreetly into accounts of your choice." Mrs West lists off. "You will also have the opportunity to call upon my favor and the Syndicate's resources, as long as you do so discreetly and within reason. Do not underestimate how much of an opportunity that is."
Jason sucks in a breath. That- no one ever gets favors from Mrs West, not without strings attached. And so far, it looks like the strings are pretty simple and obvious(and holy hell, that's a lot of money, at least for the average Crime Alley goon). "Alright, I'm in. Who do I need to protect?"
"I will send the information over to you later, via a discreet courier." Mrs West chuckles. "A diner isn't exactly the most secure place of conversation, no?"
The call cuts out just as Flash Hoodie Guy snatches his phone back and shoves it back in his pocket. Weirdly enough, he somehow managed to retrieve his meal and eat half of it in the space of five minutes, without Jason noticing him leave.
"...Do you know why she trusts me?" Jason asks tentatively. "We've never interacted before."
Flash Hoodie Guy looks up at Jason and swallows his bite of fries. "Let's just say you've got a few good words put in for you by people you never knew were working for the Syndicate, and she knows everything about you- enough to make sure you're never a threat should you betray her trust."
"Ah. Well, that's very paranoia-inducing." Jason fights back a shiver.
How many times has he passed by, talked to or saved someone who was secretly working for the West Coast Syndicate? How much do they know about him? Do they know his real identity? Bruce's identity?
Flash Hoodie Guy has the audacity to laugh.
"You don't know the half of it." he says, shoving another handful of fries into his mouth. "We've got people everywhere."
"Thanks. Very reassuring." Jason gestures to the door. "Do you mind if I dip on you?"
At Flash Hoodie Guy's shake of the head, Jason gets out of his seat and strides out of the diner into the street. It's still just as dark out as when he came in, but his safehouse is only a couple blocks away.
About halfway to his safehouse, Jason realizes that he's being followed. He can't place exactly who's following him, but his every instinct is screaming that he's being tailed, and he keeps seeing glimpses of red in the corner of his vision that quickly disappear whenever he turns to look.
Jason tries a few diversionary measures, climbing up onto the rooftops and taking wrong turns, but nothing seems to shake his tail.
Sighing, he turns into a side alley, lets one hand fall onto his hip holster, and turns around, planting his feet firmly on the cracked concrete.
"You gonna tell me who you are and why you're following me?" he calls into the night, not really expecting a reply. Usually, knowing they've been spotted is enough to get a tail to bolt.
"Well, I wasn't sure which safehouse you're staying at right now, and the delivery's kind of sensitive." a faintly familiar voice huffs, from just over his shoulder.
Jason whips around in an instant, his gun in his hand before his brain catches up to his survival instincts.
Flash Hoodie Guy is standing right behind him, somehow having walked past Jason without him noticing. He raises his hands in surrender, a faint grin on his face. "Sorry, Hood. Should have known you'd startle."
Jason takes a deep breath, double-checks the safety is still on and slips his gun back into his holster. "Don't sneak up on me like that. I could have shot you."
Flash Hoodie Guy snorts. "You say that like a single bullet from a mundane firearm could hurt me."
Jason pauses. Once again, a feeling of familiarity niggles at him looking at Flash Hoodie Guy's face. With the revelation that Flash Hoodie Guy does actually have powers, that feeling's probably not just deja vu.
"…Have we met before?" Jason asks, a faint sinking feeling in his chest.
Flash Hoodie Guy grins wider, eyes glinting with mischief. "Didn't think you'd figure it out this quick! Yes, we have met before."
Jason waits a second, waiting for Flash Hoodie Guy to say more, and recieving only a faint tilt of the head and a smirk.
"You're the Red Hood, figure it out yourself." Flash Hoodie Guy says eventually, the tips of his teeth glinting a little too sharp to be human. "It's obvious, if you look."
Jason huffs, and holds out a hand. (Blue eyes, blond hair, sharp teeth, freakily silent and fast…dammit, why can't he just remember?) "Just hand me the files."
Flash Hoodie Guy tilts his head, hands on his hips. "…You know, I really thought you'd have put the pieces together by now. I mean, I'm basically wearing the same clothes."
The revelation hits Jason abruptly like a freight train, a dozen puzzle pieces clicking together all at once. He can't quite believe it, desperately wants to not believe it- but no one else fits the picture, and the pieces line up perfectly.
(He's lucky Flash is fine with he/him.)
"You…" Jason starts, and Flash- just Flash- raises a hand to quiet him, with a soft whisper of "Not here. It'll all make sense later."
He desperately wants to protest, but before he can say anything more, Flash is gone, only an abrupt gust of dust-laden wind letting Jason know they were ever there.
Jason stands there for a few long seconds, mind reeling, then sighs and starts walking, steadfastly ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest.
Somehow, his responsibilities to Mrs. West seem so much more steep when he knows that a founding member of the Justice League is enforcing them. (Two, even, the paranoid part of his brain whispers. Flash and Green Lantern are two peas in a pod. If she has one, she has both. Probably their kids, too.)
The manila folder he spots on the kitchen table as soon as he walks through the safehouse door is just punctuation to the point Barry has already made- there's no point running or hiding, because we'll already be there when you walk in the door.
Jason dumps open the folder, and he can't hold the hysterical laughter back any longer when he sees the names on the files- Wallace West, Linda Park, Jai West, Irey West.
The paranoid part of his brain was right, after all. It wasn't just Barry, it was the entire Flash Family. (How did he not see it before? Wally's last name is literally West, it's always been, it couldn't be more obvious. West. Coast. Syndicate. West family, and Coast City's protector.)
At least he knows Mrs. West's real name now. Not that anyone would believe him, when she's married to a founding member of the Justice League and everyone he trusts thinks he's just an up-and-coming criminal with zero relation to the Bat or Bruce Wayne.