What happened

Newspaper article:
Society Supports Youth Center


The City's creme de la creme were in attendance last night at a charity event to raise money for the restoration of an old elementary school into a Teen Youth Center. The driving force behind this new hope in our City was none other than mega industrialist Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne was quoted as saying he hopes, "To provide a safe haven and alternative to the streets."

The building in question was closed down a few years ago due to budget cuts and is up for auction. The gala last night, however, was not to buy it, Mr. Wayne will do that outright. It was instead for funds for the renovation. There are plans for a basketball court, a boxing ring and a dojo, along with offices for counselors and possibly dorms; one for boys and one for girls. The simply christened 'Todd Youth Center' will not be trying to replace the systems already in place to deal with disenfranchised youth. Rather, it wants to a pre-step. Mr Wayne was also quoted as saying. "Every single step counts, even the baby ones."

In between rubbing shoulders with the Mayor and Police Commissioner Leob, sipping champagne and talking with eligible bachelor Bruce Wayne himself, there were ample opportunities to slip a check into the donation box of honor in the middle of the room. There was also a silent auction. Of course, no few women suggested a bachelor auction but alas it was not meant to be.

At the end of the night, the accountant's tally was that close to a quarter million had been raised by the auction and in a few days the results from the direct donations should be in.

For the curious, however, the more burning question is who is or who was J.P. Todd ? Some lost soul that Bruce Wayne couldn't help ? A long dead friend and colleague ? An old teacher ? Mr. Wayne refused to comment. But the plaque sitting neatly behind the fund raising box reads

"In honor of J.P. Todd. No life is without merit, no death is meaningless as long as there are people to hold your memory close in their hearts."

Anyone interested in contributing to the memory of the mysterious J.P.Todd should contact the Wayne Foundation, or the newspaper with the heading 'Todd Youth Center'.

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Perhaps what surprised the Devil most of all was that he didn't need Jason's help in order to find home. The blonde angel only had to follow his feet, The City feeling both familiar and terrifying.

The question of where they were remained unanswered. For the first part of their journey, He Who Is Most Unclean might have sworn they were in Gotham, or perhaps London. It wasn't until the unusual pair walked closer toward the swanky night club that Lucifer swore they were right in Los Angeles. The Lux belonged in LA, of that much the Demon Prince was certain.

He was also certain of who was standing there at the door.

"Makizeen! Darling! What a pleasant surprise. You've followed me home..."

Wherever home is....

She was quite beautiful, really. Or at least the half of her that she revealed was beautiful, though this wasn't entirely fair as Lucifer was fond of every bit of her from eyeballs to entrails. For the rest of this Earth's occupants, however, the less conventional half of her face was hidden by a mask. She said nothing but smiled. It wasn't a particularly nice smile.

"I do hope you're of age, Old Sport," the blonde said to Jason. "I suppose I'll have to retrieve a more proper attire. Please, help yourself. Anything you want is on the house."

For all the Devil cared, the former Boy Wonder could have been twelve.

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It took a while, but Jason finally felt he was getting a feel for this city.

He was a city-boy to his very bones; until he'd met Bruce, anything outside Gotham had been nothing more than a picture on a TV screen, or a photograph in a book. So he knew how to get a feel for a new place, and was streetsmart enough to pass as a local after only a few hours.

It was simply a matter of learning the streets. He was convinced there was a pattern to their movements, and without school to take up his days, Jason had little better to do than test his theory. The most stable areas seemed to be close to important buildings; around the United Industries building, for example. Wayne Manor was staying still, but he hadn't lingered outside, unsure of how well watched the grounds were.

Now he was memorising the basic layout of the big park in the center of the City. It shouldn't change too much, he reasoned, chewing on a chili dog. It's only tress and grass and stuff..

Pulling his cap down low and brushing crumbs off his hoodie, both newly-bought from a thrift near his apartment, he tried not to feel uncomfortable while surrounded by so much...nature.

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Either Jason's natural affinity for the city streets was leading him, or the City itself was being particularly kind. Either way, his blind sprint through the backstreets, half-blinded by tears, had led him to the back of Midnighter's appartement building. He took a moment to stop, catch his breath, and try to remember what floor his new friend lived on, before shooting his grapple at the balcony. He hoped he was right.

He landed perfectly, flipping himself over the iron railing and standing still for a moment, before the violent shudders began. He looked down at his hands, willing them to stop shaking, before letting out a strangled sob. One hand began tearing at the front of his costume, the other scrabbling at the door. By the time he made it into the kitchen, no doubt alerting Midnighter and half the neighbourhood, he had stripped down to his light vest and armoured shorts.

He leaned against the refrigerator and let himself slide down to the cool floor, no longer holding back the tears.

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Who: Batman and Robin (Jason Todd)
What: The City Arranges A Meeting
Where: Rooftops of the City

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Jason Todd woke up tired and sore.

This wasn't an irregular occurrence for a Robin. In fact, if Jason didn't find at least half a dozen new bruises the morning after a patrol, he counted the night as a failure. But this, this was different. Before he was even fully conscious his mind began cataloguing the pain: wrists and forearms, as if he'd been defending himself; his head in general, as if he'd been hit a lot; his right kneecap, as if he'd fallen or landed badly; his ribs, as if he'd been hit by a frickin' truck. No broken bones, but the dull ache of a barely-healed injury all over his frame.

What the hell had happened to him-

"Fuck fuck fuck!"

In one practised-if-stiff move he rolled to his feet and into a defensive crouch, eyes darting wildly behind the lenses of his mask. The Joker had to be around here somewhere. Jason knew the guy liked to play "jokes" on his opponents. Hell, he was named for it. So if that apparently meant beating them, healing them and then letting them think they were safe, Jay certainly wasn't going to fall for it.

He held position for a full ten minutes before his legs gave way and he fell into a shaky heap.

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