Work Text:
The warehouse was packed with enough armed thugs to make even Batman pause for a tactical assessment. Thirty-seven criminals by Nightwing's count, all sporting the kind of heavy artillery that made smart vigilantes think twice about charging in guns blazing.
"Alright, team," Batman's voice crackled through the comm. "We need a coordinated approach. Robin, you and Red Robin take the high ground. Nightwing—"
"Oh, for Hera's sake," Artemis muttered, rolling her eyes. "This is taking forever."
Before anyone could react, the Amazon warrior had grabbed Red Hood by the back of his leather jacket like she was scruffing a particularly ornery tomcat. In one fluid motion, she hefted all two hundred pounds of armored vigilante over her head.
"ARTEMIS, NO!" Jason managed to shout, though his tone suggested this was more reflex than actual protest.
"ARTEMIS, YES!" she declared, and launched him like a very angry, very well-armed javelin straight into the center of the criminal congregation.
The Bat-family watched in stunned silence as Jason sailed through the air with the grace of a falling anvil, landing boots-first on the nearest thug's chest before immediately rolling into a combat stance. The gang scattered like startled pigeons, but Jason was already moving, twin pistols appearing in his hands as he dove behind a shipping container.
"What the hell was that?!" Nightwing sputtered, his usually composed demeanor cracking.
"Efficient," Bizarro said matter-of-factly, floating down to join them. "Me no love how Red Hood always land on feet like angry cat."
"You—you just threw him!" Tim stammered, his analytical mind struggling to process what he'd witnessed. "You literally threw a person!"
Artemis crossed her arms, looking genuinely confused by their reactions. "It's a perfectly sound tactical maneuver. We've used it dozens of times. Jason breaks their formation, we follow up with the main assault. Simple."
"SIMPLE?!" Robin's voice cracked with indignation. "You used my brother as a projectile weapon!"
"Your brother am loving every second," Bizarro pointed out, gesturing toward the warehouse where the distinctive sound of Jason's delighted laughter could be heard over the chaos of breaking kneecaps and inventive cursing.
Down below, Jason cackled as he blocked a swing with his helmeted head and elbowed the attacker in the throat. “I’m living my best life, thanks!”
Batman pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that somehow conveyed both paternal exasperation and tactical approval. "Does... does this actually work?"
"Like a charm," Artemis said proudly. "Jason's too stubborn to stay down, too mean to run away, and too skilled to lose. Plus, he genuinely enjoys the chaos. Win-win-win."
The sounds of combat were already dying down. Through the warehouse windows, they could see Jason systematically working his way through the gang with the methodical precision of someone who'd clearly done this before. A lot.
"Kneecaps are merely suggestions when Red Hood am angry," Bizarro observed philosophically. "Me no understand why you all look so surprised. This am Tuesday for Outlaws."
"This is Tuesday for—" Nightwing started, then stopped himself. "No. Nope. I'm not unpacking that statement."
"You know what?" Red Robin said, his tablet already out and recording. "I'm documenting this. For science. And blackmail."
Damian scowled at his older siblings. "You're all being ridiculous. Father, surely you can't approve of this... this barbaric—"
"It's effective," Batman admitted grudgingly. "Unorthodox, but effective."
"TOLD YOU SO!" Jason's voice carried from the warehouse, followed by the distinctive sound of someone being zip-tied. "Artemis, next time aim me at the guy with the rocket launcher first! I had to work my way over there!"
"Noted!" Artemis called back, then turned to the slack-jawed Bat-family. "See? He's fine. He's even providing tactical feedback."
"This is insane," Nightwing muttered, but he was already moving toward the warehouse. "Absolutely insane."
"Me am thinking Bat-family should try throwing each other more often," Bizarro suggested helpfully. "Maybe start with little Robin? He am most aerodynamic."
"I will end you," Damian hissed.
"That am sweet threat, Mini-Bat!"
As they approached the warehouse, Jason emerged, dusting off his jacket with a grin visible even through his helmet. "Thirty-seven down, zero casualties except for their pride and their kneecaps. Artemis, that was your best throw yet. Stuck the landing perfectly."
"I've been working on my form," she said, accepting the fist bump he offered.
"This is our lives now," Tim said faintly. "We're going to have to explain to everyone why our crime-fighting strategy involves human cannonballs."
"Me no see problem," Bizarro said. "Red Hood am already dangerous projectile when he walk normal. Now he just get there faster."
Batman looked at his assembled children—biological, adopted, and apparently borrowed—and made a decision that would either go down in vigilante history or get them all committed to Arkham.
"Artemis," he said slowly, "next time, give us a warning first."
"Father, NO!" Damian protested.
"Father, YES!" Jason laughed, high-fiving Artemis again. "I knew you'd see the tactical advantages!"
Nightwing buried his face in his hands. "Alfred is going to have so many questions."
"Alfred am going to laugh until he cry," Bizarro predicted cheerfully. "Me no can wait to see his face when we tell story."
And somewhere in the distance, the criminals who'd managed to escape were already spreading the word: if you see the Red Hood coming, run. If you see someone throwing the Red Hood at you, run faster.
The Outlaws' tried-and-true tactic had officially been adopted by the Bat-family.
Gotham's criminals would never be the same.
B Side
Bizarro like Gotham.
Gotham is loud. Angry. Smells like old tires and sadness. Jason say that means it has “personality.” Bizarro thinks it smells like Jason’s boots.
Also, Gotham have very tall buildings.
Very good for throwing.
Bizarro stand with Jason on rooftop. Jason bounce on heels, check weapons. Tiny click-clicks. Like bird sharpening beak. Mean bird. Jason is angry bird.
Bizarro happy.
“Ready, Big Guy?” Jason ask. Grin very wide. No teeth this time—friendly grin.
“Bizarro always ready.”
Jason nod. Artemis behind them, cracking knuckles. Wind cold. Moon shiny.
Jason back up three steps. Spread arms. “Okay. Yeet me.”
Bizarro do not know what “yeet” is. But Jason say it means “launch toward evil with extreme prejudice.”
This is Bizarro’s favorite thing.
He pick up Jason careful—like glass jar full of bees. Jason wiggle excitedly, adjusting helmet.
Bizarro step to edge.
Below, bad men yell. Guns. Smoke. Terrible aim. One throw bottle at police car. Rude.
Jason say: “Trajectory 37B. Spin me clockwise this time, I wanna land with flair.”
Bizarro nod, very serious.
“Me understand.”
Then—
WHOOSH.
Jason fly through night. Jacket flap. Guns ready. Screaming with joy , not fear. He crash into group like bowling ball made of anger and tactical armor.
Bad men fly everywhere.
Bizarro beam.
“Good throw,” Artemis say, arms crossed.
“Bizarro improving,” he reply. “Now can throw him thirty percent farther. Precision up. Kneecap ratio optimal.”
Artemis grunt approvingly.
Far below, Jason cackle like villain. Bizarro think that means he happy.
“Teamwork,” Bizarro say, proud.
“Teamwork,” Artemis agree, leaping down after him.
Bizarro follow, cape catching wind.
Tonight good night. Gotham still sad, but Jason laugh. So maybe okay.
Maybe very okay.