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It had become a contest amongst the bats and birds. Who could gift their avian, well, not defender. Not muse, not protector, not partner...how to define this ongoing relationship? Jason mused over this as he stood at the bodega, debating over which ridiculously high-calorie artificially-flavored candy a goose would prefer. Abomination. Yes, their avian abomination. He could go with that. Which bat, bird, and co-conspirator could gift it the best oh-please-let-me-live-because-I'm-clearly-the-superior-batclan-member bribe. And in honor of the goose's reign of, well, not evil, but definitely a reign of terror, he opted for Atomic Destruction candies. Super sour, glue-your-teeth-together gummy, and in colors that never ever existed in nature and whose names included more numbers than letters. Perfect. He left the bodega with a brown paper bag containing an insult to the digestive system and a smile on his face.
Oracle had managed to track down the approximate resting location of the feathered monstrosity. It was somewhere near the university library, most likely within a block to the north of it, not too far from Crime Alley but thankfully not too close either. She'd gotten that information with the help of Tim, and by a long slog of going through thousands and thousands of hours of both camera footage and recording when they suddenly stopped recording footage, (the goose seemed to cause electronics to also recoil in horror) and where The Goose was spotted. Many times the video showed up online and it required even more effort to determine exactly where it appeared. But, when all was said and done, the epicenter of destruction and wrath was somewhere in that block. There were many assumptions involved, mostly that The Goose even had a primary resting place, and that the feathery evil genius wasn't working to mislead them, and that it was most likely the most active closest to its nest. Jason intended to find that nest. And in an attempt to not become utterly massacred by The Goose, he was bringing bribes.
Thus the bag of candy, comic book (hey, it was full of violence as heroes kicked the asses of villains, he thought the goose might appreciate that), assorted flavors of energy drinks whose flavors couldn't be detected through the thick syrupy sugar (they didn't ask how the goose opened the cans. But he'd ripped one right out of Timberlina's hands, unopened, and strutted proudly off with it dangling from his bill by the tab, and when Tim got over his shock to chase The Goose, which, wtf Tim?, he'd rounded the corner of the building to find the goose glaring at him out of one eye as it tipped the can above its head and poured the concoction down its throat.), a bag of very expensive coffee beans with a picture of what looked like a cat but was something called a civet, and a knife sharpener. The goose had gotten plenty of daggers, swords, knives, batarangs, and even a railroad spike. Giving it something to make those even more dangerous might be a bad idea but considering that it usually just ripped off chunks using its bill, Jason was willing to risk it. And besides, watching it chasing down a rogue, head and neck snaked out just above the ground, sword that it shouldn't possibly be able to wield that was longer than the goose itself clenched in its bill? That was a joy all on its own. It had provided the picture for the background of his phone. The fact that the rogue's expression of abject terror was also caught in the image added to it, but the best part of the entire image was the black heel in the background, disappearing around the corner of a building.
That heel belonged to B, who had finally learned to run like hell when he ended up anywhere in the vicinity of The Goose.
Altogether an amazing picture. A heavy-duty print of it, as weatherproof and tough as possible, was also in the bag. Perhaps the goose would want to decorate its nest, if not, well, it was an excellent, well-balanced image, with the proper lighting to create a feeling of doom and despair, and a crisp, clear image of the demented shine of the goose's eye as it tore down the sidewalk after its terrified victim, and B.
A contemplative hum escaped the Red Hood as he leapt from roof to roof, the occasional roll when landing being carefully executed so as not to damage any of the goodies in the bribe bag. Where WOULD this nest be? He'd start on the rooftops, and work down from there. He hadn't SEEN the goose up on buildings, whether roofs, fire escapes, or windows, except when it was pursuing a victim up or across them. It was generally ground-bound, pickings were definitely better at street level because that was where most of the people were, duh...but it would make sense for the flighted beast to have a nest up where it was harder to see and reach. The very tallest building in the area would be the first choice; harder to see the roof of, and thus the least likely to have been spotted and reported on if the nest were there. The theoretical nest. He wouldn't be surprised to find out the goose went back to Hell between its rampages. Hmmm... where to start looking?
It was actually the third building that contained the nest. The goose wasn't on top of the building at all. It hadn't tucked a nest behind an AC, or in the stairwell, or any place hidden and hard-to-reach. Jason didn't know why he'd expected that. This was, after all, The Goose. The bastard had claimed the entire penthouse apartment. Now, this wasn't a great area, but it was the top floor on a tall building and in Gotham's gloom, that was a valued piece of real estate. The Goose had claimed it by virtue of moving in and daring the previous tenant to do anything about it. Either the tenant HAD tried to do something and was no longer a going concern as a result, or the tenant had wisely decided that, nope, it was The Goose's apartment now. A single white feather in the hallway in front of the door made sure no one was ever, ever going to knock on that door. Ever. It was a nice apartment. Jason approved. Peeking through the window showed that the erstwhile tenant had invested in some very comfy-looking quality furniture, a decent-sized TV, some nice endtables and a coffee table, a nice rug with a simple geometric pattern, and an eyeball now staring back at him that reflected both his soul and his imminent doom.
Not being an idiot, Jason dropped the bag on the fire escape and ran for his life. The Goose accepted the offering. It was hilarious watching the infamous gang lord, the Red Hood himself, procurer of eight heads for a duffel bag, nearly wetting himself and barely catching the handrail before he fell off the fire escape. The frantic scrambling and high-speed grapple were fun to watch. Hood had a very nice butt and some seriously wide shoulders. Danny would be lying if he didn't admit that he was enjoying that view. Once Hood was out of sight, he swapped forms, opened the window (he didn't bother with locks. Even people that would have contemplated stealing from The Joker weren't about to even put a fingerprint on HIS window), and snagged the bag off the fire escape. He didn't get a lot of Offerings but what he did get, plus the energy directed his way via Goose Candles, plus the general fear and reverence and worship, kept him in top form. If anyone ever set up a real temple for him, his power level would be absolutely ungodly. Or Godly. Did Ancients count as Gods? I mean, Pandora was a Greek god, and Kronos, and technically Undergrowth had been known as Emesh, and he himself was considered an Ancient even before he got the boost from Gothamites...even if there was food in his parents' cabinets that had existed longer than he'd been a halfa even with the time shenanigans.
God or not, he was pleased with the offering. These gummies were fire. And he was going to have to get a frame, because damn he looked good in that picture. The sharpener was an interesting gift. Trust a crime lord to think about supporting his violence via weapon maintenance. Eventually he'd learn how to sharpen his weapons. For now, coffee time!
He spit the coffee out an hour later when he was idly researching what a civet was and what it had to do with coffee beans and his phone told him. Red Hood was no longer his favorite. WTF, Hood, and people PAID to drink that coffee?!? Then again, he now had the perfect Christmas gift for Vlad.
Hood would never tell the rest of the batfam, or anyone else, ever, where The Goose was found. They'd go and look. The Goose would know he'd told them. And he'd spend the rest of his very short remaining life in fear. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. The person whose apartment The Goose had claimed had never told anyone, or it would have been all over the city by now; knowing where The Goose lurked would be incredibly important information as it would tell people where to AVOID. NO ONE in that building, who all had to be aware of the evil perched above them, had said anything. Gothamites had some serious self-preservation instincts and Jason was a Gothamite through-and-through. No way in hell was he ever telling any of them. Damian would undoubtedly try and set up a snare or trap of some kind to catch The Goose and that would not end well. Jason had gotten the impression that The Goose was more tolerant of Damian, it gave off some serious Annoyed Young Adult vibes with the barely-adolescent Wayne, and that had kept the kid alive until now. Damian did not have very good impulse control around animals, and would absolutely exceed the tolerance so far extended to him.
What Hood DID do, though, was show up with another offering the next week. The Goose was full-grown but he'd bet The Goose was fairly young. Older adults were more, mmm...sane? Settled? Less reactive? Maybe it was "just" because it was a goose, but it clearly operated at a human level of intelligence even if the level of rage was mythical. So, next bribe would be something a young man would appreciate. Damian had the weapons covered, no use adding to that pile. He'd already given a comic. What did his family do for fun beyond patrol (which was technically not for fun but honestly, they all got some enjoyment from terrifying the guilty in a rather goose-like but less homicidal way). Ah yes! He'd seen the advertisements for the latest and greatest gaming system, the GameMaster6000, and had purchased one for The Goose. So what if it hadn't been released yet. He simply abused Bruce's credit card. enough The factory had taken one of the very first games that were just now rolling off the assembly lines and dropped it straight into a box, handed it off to a private pilot, and within the day it was in Gotham and being unloaded by Red Hood. Yeah, it was going to create some really interesting gossip but it was along the lines of a crime lord smuggling something, so let 'em gossip.
It was a bit terrifying to get the box up to the window, along with a few dozen of the latest and greatest, most popular games, but The Goose was featured in a video showing him chasing a businessman down the sidewalk, with another victim in a suit and sensible heels and runny mascara bleeding on the ground already. While the abomination was having fun playing with some it-was-Gotham-so-safe-to-assume-they-weren't-ethical corporate executive types, he had enough time to safely drop the game system off. Sure it was risky but SOMEONE had to be The Goose's favorite bat or bird, and while everyone assumed Dick or Stephanie was the most competitive, nope, they were the loudest about it. The most ruthlessly competitive was Jason. Damian and Tim came a close second but had just a little too much of a sense of self-preservation to be dropping a game console off at The Goose's assumed abode.
He did hope the monster enjoyed it. He'd probably empathize with the bosses and not the player's character, but eh. If not, just bringing an unreleased gaming system should be a mark in his favor, assuming that the bird DID enjoy such things. How it would manage a controller or setting up the console he had no idea, but also no doubts that the bird would manage it if it felt like doing so. Or just relishing in the destruction of something expensive and coveted. Also totally within reasonable expectations for The Goose.
What the hell? Danny didn't know how long the box had been out there, he wasn't really in the habit of checking out his fire escape. Since Mr. Hot Butt had shown up a few days earlier, he was looking more often, sure. Because the Red Hood had been allowed to leave intact and not hunted down, and vigilantes were not exactly known for any sort of self-protective instincts but this batch WAS infamous for sheer nosiness, he'd bet Mr. Butt would be back. He also figured that box had been dropped off sometime during the afternoon nap. Any other place in Gotham it would have vanished within minutes but anyone willing to go up a dozen floors of fire escape to get a box would be dedicated enough to figure out who they were stealing from first. So, nothing was going to get stolen from HIS fire escape, including that most interesting box. Time to see what it was.
Hood was now forgiven for the cat-shit coffee beans.
It wasn't Doomed but there were monsters, a detailed fantasy world, well-developed NPCs, and lots and lots of weapons. There were four controllers and a ton of games to pick from, thank you very much Mr. Butt, but this game? Both one he'd heard about as it was one of the most popular games in this world and advertisements were ubiquitous in all dimensions, AND it was very playable by a single person. AND it had a machete. Virtual bloodshed, high-end graphics, and the detailed gore? Maybe his feathered persona was leaking a bit into his human one. Eh, who cared. He had a couple cold cans of energy drinks, bags of chips with radioactive-orange powder on them, and a few packages of jerky. The couch he was sprawled on was comfy, the clothes surprisingly soft (he hadn't bothered to shop. The man he'd chased out of the apartment had been wealthy, due to white-collar crime obviously as it was Gotham, and close enough to his own size to provide him with a ready-made wardrobe of ridiculously comfy clothes), the lighting dim, and the TV screen the perfect size. Danny was sucked in to the game, from black bedhead to fuzzy brown slippers.
Sucked in enough that he totally missed the stunned vigilante on the fire escape who was having some revelations that a: yes, that was The Goose who'd turned into a hot young man and was playing the gaming system he'd left and that b: hot young man. hot. man. His age-ish. Oh man oh man oh hot man. He couldn't see the body all that well but the guy seemed fairly fit, that hair looked way too soft, the eyes were glowing blue in a non-bloodthirsty-way, and he could totally ignore that this guy sometimes had feathers and a beak and a bloodthirsty streak a hundred times wider than that of a crime lord because hot damn.
Vigilantes have no sense of self preservation. Thankfully he did have a pencil and paper he kept on himself to take notes, jotting down information from crime scenes and criminal confessions and stuff he just remembered that he needed to pick up at the store. A bullet kept the paper from blowing away, that had his number and "Call me. Hood."
He nearly made it across the next roof before collapsing next to a vent pipe, asking himself what the hell he'd just done. And he nearly made it home before he began looking over his shoulder constantly, in fear of a feathered rage missile. Jason didn't know it but he'd gotten very lucky, and would be keeping his various appendages intact despite The Goose's glorious retaliatory bent. He'd also be getting a few dates and a cute boyfriend out of this. The terror with which Gotham's criminals viewed the Red Hood would soon look like a pleasant memory to those criminals compared to the mindless horror that awaited them. A Red Hood that wasn't happy with them wasn't a good thing but they'd probably live and be mostly intact afterwards.
Red Hood AND The Goose? Gotham's criminal underground was going to be in their own little Hell soon.