You threw the wad of cash out of your pocket, and onto the counter. And dear god, did you look shady as all hell.

Thin grey zip up jacket with your hood up under a denim jacket, black crumpled T-shirt and jeans so ripped to hell that they looked like they lost to a fight with a wood-chipper. you had to wear a pair of leggings under it just to keep warm from all the cold air that would be pressing against bare skin. The muddy boots you wore that tracked dirt wherever you stepped only annoyed the clerk at the gas station to a level where she didn't really care if it showed or not.

Gotham, well? It was a place a kid could buy cigarettes at a gas station if they pulled out enough money. It was a place where a kid could be alcohol from the right type of person and get away with it too. Since the cameras in half the gas stations in the district of Gotham didn't work, it's something you came to do a lot. But normally you just grab a six case of beer in glass bottles, never cans, you're not that trashy, but this time? It was more than just the six pack on the glass counter above the lotto cards.

"Pack of Menthols."

You jutted your weight to one foot and leaned against the glass counter slightly, watching as the clerk behind said glass counter looked around the gas st

ation to make sure nobody was watching before turning on her heel and grabbing a pack of cigarettes in the mint green box.

"Hey kid, it's your lungs you're screwing up. And your liver too." She said, taking the six pack and putting it in the bag with the pack of menthols. She had somewhat of a dissapointed look on her face, but looking at the wad of twenties you threw down on the table washed out her guilt for even selling these to you, and her dissapointment for a child that was willing to smoke and drink at such an age.

"I wouldn't be talking if I were you, it's illegal to be selling these things to a minor." You mumbled, moving your hand around below the see through section of the glass case as you snatched a red lighter with a yellow line going down the middle, placing it in your pocket.

You reached forwards for the bag, taking out the pack of menthols and sticking it in your pocket while you held the six pack in the bag with your right hand.

That's when the entire atmosphere in the gas station shifted.

That's when you only now started to notice the flickering lights, the buzzing sounds of flies caught in the bulbs. The creaking noises of the door that shut, the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer to the way of the cash register.

That's when you noticed the feeling of something hard being pressed against your head, an arm wrapping around your shoulder from behind and restraining you, feeling a tight tension on your throat due to the shock and the sudden lack of air, you dropped the bag and the glass bottles shattered against the ground, beer getting everywhere. The liquid ran all around the floor and pooled near your feet, shards of glass sprawling from the point in which the bottles dropped to the floor.

"Gimme all the money in the cash register, or I put a lead bullet in the kid's head." The raspy voice came right from behind you, eyes widening as his grip over yourself came tighter, making it harder for you to breathe. You raised your hands to his arm and clawed at the bits of skin he showed bare, due to rolling of the sleeves of his jacket. Not a wise move.

He was wearing a grey Ski mask, bits of it too large for his face so it hung over his head and the lot of his skin around his mouth and eyes were showing. This guy didn't seem too smart.

You dug your nails into his arm, in retaliation he lifted you up off the ground just by raising his arm a couple inches, leaving you to desperately dangle your feet just close enough to the ground for the toes of your boots to slide around in the amber liquid on the ground below you.

You began choking, struggling for air. Your vision started to become darker around the corners, sounds were fading yet you could hear your blood pulsing and raging through your ears. your grip on the man's arm was loosening by the minute, at this point you weren't even clawing at his skin anymore, you were just holding onto his arm as a desperate act to dry and pull it off of you. A fruitless act.

This man may be stupid, but he's damn right strong. It only takes eleven pounds to crush a windpipe on a person, for you it takes even less since you're still a kid. And you're assuming he's placing eight pounds on your throat, yet it feels like a hundred.

"Hey, put the gun down and I'll give you the money. Let the kid walk and nobody's gotta get hurt." The clerk said behind the counter, pushing brown hair behind her ear before slowly lowering her hands behind the counter, going below.

"Uh, uh! Keep your hands up I don't want no fuzz showin' up because you pressed a panic button on the counter!" He yelled louder, pressing the barrel of the gun to your temple now, shoving it against your skin to the point you jutted your head to the side and cringed. This hurt a lot. Unable to breathe normally, and a loaded gun is being pressed to your temple.

God, you feel so stupid right now. You know you could take this guy, if only you could breathe, and if you couldn't take him? Well, at least you'd be able to get him off of you. If only you could breathe, damn it. 

The woman behind the cash register panicked, her breathing became rushed as she opened the cash register in a hurry. Afraid she'd see a kids brains all over the glass counter before her, she grabbed wads of cash with her hands, and wasn't so secretive about it when she stuffed a couple bills into her own pocket when she shoved most of it on the counter.

"All of it." He said, shoving the gun once more against your temple. He made a mistake, though. When he did the action, his grip around your throat loosened, due to the weight and force it took for him to apply so much pressed of the gun to your temple.

He kept that pressure there too, and you felt the oncoming headache. But it was worth it, since you were now able to breathe. You kept your inhalation silent, making it seem like you were still struggling to breathe. Exhaling just as silently, you waited until your vision stopped clouding and until you could hear things normally again.

When the sound of glass breaking entered the room, you had already stomped on the man's foot.

When you stomped on the man's foot, the action of a boy throwing himself through the glass of the door to make a dramatic entrance became evident. And by the blur or red and green and yellow, and the R on the left side of his chest? It was robin, who seemed to have acted on the scene just a little too late.

Quickly making his way over to the man holding you hostage, a kick to the center of his back was the cause of the man arching his back out in pain, letting out a howl of anger as he did. This was your opportunity.

While still in his grasp, yet you feet were now on the ground. But only temporarily, as you jumped up, colliding the top of your head to the mans lower jaw.

*Robin/Jason's p.o.v*

Jason watched in awe as you retaliated against the man, but the moment it got gruesome is when he cringed a bit. Not that he hadn't seen anything like it before, but it was coming from you. So hence the reason why he turned away a bit when he watched the man bite off the tip of his tongue by mistake when the top of your head jammed and rammed up against his jaw. The sound his teeth made, Jason's pretty damn sure the dentist's visit isn't going to be fun, and neither will the bill.

Jason watched as the man spit out blood in your direction, holding his jaw in pain and yelling out in anger as he swung at you. Jason grew angry with the sight of the adult swinging hits and punches towards you, but grew confused in his anger when he noticed you dodged every single hit that came your way with ease. About three months ago, if someone tried to hit you like that? Jason's sure you'd take at least one of the eight punches that was thrown your way.

Jason attacked from behind again, kicking the man in the back of the shin, the space in between his calf and the back of his thigh behind his knee. The man growled in pain, bending over slightly and lowering his height as he dropped the gun.

"Kick to the head?" Jason heard you say, turning his head in your direction and grinning, the light from the ceiling shining off the white lenses of his red domino mask gave off a jittering glint.

"Kick to the head." He replied, looking at the grin that graced your lips before he turned on his heel and swung a foot up in the air, while you did the same exact actions. Mirroring each other, the two of you swung a foot up in the air in the form of a roundhouse kick, a very large arch giving enough air and time for the kick to land pretty hard and pretty efficient.

Now, by the cracking sound? It might have sounded like overkill. But the cracking sound wasn't his skull, rather it was his nose. While Jason had aimed his kick for the back of the man's head, he watched as you had aimed yours for the front of his face. And the impact happened at the same exact time, so that's two places of intense pain at once.

He must have been knocked out the second his brain rattled in his skull, slumping over on the glass counter and falling through the broken shards onto the lotto tickets. That jacket kept him from being stabbed by the glass, for his own good and quite possibly Jason's if that action would have killed the man lying in shards of glass before him.

He panted for breath for a moment, exhilarated from the rush. Not the actions he had done, no that wasn't enough to really leave Jason winded. But it was the excitement of fighting along with you, instead of against you. He hadn't felt that before, and god it was great. Part of him wishes to do that again.

"You're good." He said, leaning on one leg and crossing his arms, smirking in your direction. At this point, the clerk had already pressed the panic button and started stuffing money into the cash register instead of her bra, upon seeing the well know vigilante's side-kick.

"Well, I mean so are you. But that's obvious since you're Robin." You replied, looking over the counter and seeing that your wad of cash was still there. Jason noticed this and sighed, placing a hand at his arm and rubbing circles into his skin to relieve tension in his muscles. He felt some, but it's from stress and not pushing himself tonight. Which definitely isn't what he did.

"Go ahead and get your money back, I saw the whole thing but put the menthols back, you don't need to do that to yourself." He replied to your glance at the glass counter, shaking his head to more of himself than you. Like he should be talking, but you don't know that. You don't know that Robin, is in fact Jason Todd.

"Ha. I'd rather keep the pack. But thanks anyways Brat-wonder." You said before sliding your hand across the counter and taking your money back.

Jason reached forwards and grabbed your wrist so tight you actually dropped the cash right onto the ground, still holding your hand, he reached down and picked it up.

"Well if you tell me your name and who showed you how to get so good at fighting, I'll let you walk away with both." Jason said, a light smile on his face to try and make you feel more comfortable. Though he already knew your name, just not how you got so good at what you just did. It didn't change the fact you let out a scoff and placed your free hand on your hip.

"Then what? I get to loose my trust for the only person who taught me how things really are? No thanks. Keep the money. I don't feel like being tossed out again. I don't mind telling you my name, though. It's (Y/n)." You said, extending your free hand as Jason slowly let go of your other hand. He watched in amusement, you just threw yourself under the bus for someone he doesn't know. Well, he wouldn't really say he's amused. More so curious. Because there's about maybe a hundred dollars in this wad of cash, and you suddenly don't care about getting it back because you don't want this mystery person to lose your trust?

Jason slowly extended his hand, both of you grasping each other by the wrists and not so much of a handshake. It was more of a display of dominance, it seemed.

Your grip was tighter, and the look in your eyes told Jason not to follow you outside of the gas station, because he figure you knew his intentions.

"Well I can't really tell you my name and all, but Batman's gonna be here any minute now so if you want to avoid questioning, you should probably go." Jason said, sighing and crossing his arms after you unlatched your hand from his wrist, and vice versa.

"And You'll say you never saw me?" He heard you reply, hope and curiosity in your voice tinged through your words.

"Well, I wouldn't say that. But I'll lie a bit." Jason replied, Well he wasn't going to tell Bruce the entire truth, just the less important bits.Like your name and how well you fought.

"Thanks."He heard you reply, and off you went. But before you left the gas station, he heard you call his attention.

"Don't take this too personally, or to heart, but that was pretty fun and I hope we can do it again sometime."