Jason noticed the cute decoy Eris had played for him. He kicked himself mentally for being so naÃ¯ve, and for getting caught up with the blonde haired, shapely deception, instead of searching all three cars. â€œSo stupid!!â€ he said to himself, as he traveled away from the sight of thugs hoisting mangled corpses into the river. They hadnâ€™t even taken time to appreciate his work! He playfully pouted, then remembered that Eris, Eris Discordia, had actually taken the time to appreciate how it all played out. He noticed her observing the bodies, mentally rewinding Jasonâ€™s actions and (hopefully) appreciating his fine artwork. He giggled to himself about the new toy he left in the sniperâ€™s face. He wasnâ€™t a fan of cowards like that.<br/>Jason carefully tracked Victor Francelliâ€™s Buick to a high rise apartment building in the residential district. Only Gothamâ€™s richest and most powerful people lived here: mostly drug lords and crime bosses, but occasionally the twisted politician or a billionaire. Jason remembered that a long time ago, a Wayne was once the main tenant there. â€œBilly? Brice? No- what was it? Thatâ€™s right- Bruce. Bruce Wayne.â€ Jason thought to himself, walking down a fire escape across the street from the apartment.<br/>Jason walked across the damp pavement, up the steps and into the lobby. A fairly spindly young busboy approached him: â€œIâ€™m sorry sir; visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow-â€œthe kid was cut off, a throwing blade protruding from his forehead. Since the boy was the only one in the lobby apart from Jason, he decided to leave the body; maybe somebody would get the message that the crime lords werenâ€™t safe anymore.<br/>Jason wandered towards the elevators, disabling security cameras as he went. He would erase the footage from his house. At the elevator, Jason noticed two extremely large, well-built bouncers. He smirked to himself- â€œTime for the actor to come alive.â€ Jason briskly approached the two meat-heads, opening his arms in a grand gesture. â€œGentlemen! How wonderful it is to finally be here!â€ Jason said, with theatricality and an Italian accent. â€œI do believe that your employer is-a expecting me! I am a business partner from-a Italy, one of the-a Italian mobâ€™s â€˜messenger<br/>boysâ€™.â€ The thugs looked at each other, and then turned their attention to Jason, each cocking a thick eyebrow at him. Jason went on- â€œMy employers have a touch for the dramatic, eh?â€ Unamused, the two muscle-mountains stood before Jason like statues, with that still-questioning look on their faces. Jason dropped his cheery demeanor, â€œLook, guys, Iâ€™m just working to feed my family, ok? I have to do this stupid crap for all sorts of people all around the world and they all give me that same damn look. So can I please just drop this off?â€ Jason said in his normal accent, revealing a package, a small box. One of the thugs responded, stepping forward with a metal detector wand. Jason gazed up at the brute, looking him in the eyes. The brute grunted to the second, telling him that the package was clean. The second brute pushed a button, opening the doors to the elevator.<br/>The first brute shoved the package back into Jasonâ€™s hands, shoved him into the elevator, and both of the bouncers stepped in with him. Jason kept his head down as the two thugs took their menacing position behind him. The elevator began to rise, and he noticed that it only had one button. â€œInterestingâ€¦â€ the fake-messenger thought. In his mind, he ran through what he needed to do, â€œCheck, check, check, and check.â€ Mentally counting off the steps in his head, Jason turned his shaggy demeanor to the two behind him. â€œDid I ever tell you guys about the two thugs, with the broken glass in their stomachs?â€ They both paused, and then both shook their heads no. â€œWell it goes a little something like this.â€ he murmured, springing up before they could react. Jason Winterâ€™s fists went into the glass covering the fluorescent light above them. He brought his legs up, kicking them each with brutal force in their chests. Jason could hear the snapping of their ribs as they rammed backward into the elevator wall. He then pulled two long, razor-sharp shards of glass from the ceiling, bringing them down and then shoving them deep into the thugâ€™s stomachs. â€œAaand the punch line!â€ Jason murmured as he brought his fists; now bloody and with broken glass in them, up under the henchmenâ€™s chins, sending them spiraling back into the wall.<br/>As the elevator reached the top floor, Jasonâ€™s mind started to something peculiar. He changed into someone else completely-someone he was. The elevator doors opened, and the now-transformed Jack stood, bloodied, battered, and angry as hell. Victor Francelli looked at the sight of his two best men gutted in the elevator with horror. â€œHello, Frank.â€ Jack said. â€œWh- who the<br/>fuck are you?!â€ demanded the now-terrified mob boss. â€œSomeone of dire consequence- for you at least,â€ Jack murmured, walking slowly towards the large, black marble desk that the small, terrified man cowered behind. Gothamâ€™s bright city lights towered behind him, reflecting against the harbor; all of this was pictured by the large glass window behind Victor.<br/>â€œWhat- what do you want from me?â€ stammered the wretch. Jason replied, â€œYour life, and vengeance for what you did to us.â€ â€œWhat are you talking about? And why do you keep calling me Frank?â€ he murmured. Jason smiled.  â€œDid I ever tell you the one about the mob boss who started out as a little-known pathological serial killer? The punch lineâ€™s a killer.â€ The crime lord staggered backwards, ever farther from Jack, ever closer to the picturesque window as his face went from fear to a horrible realization. â€œItâ€™s you. Jason- Jason my best man! Youâ€™ve come home! I thought you were dead!â€ â€œWrong. You left me and your daughter for dead in Italy. I was able to escape. After I learned you went missing, I tracked you across Gotham. You had changed your name and main crime location, as well as having a â€˜minor cosmetic surgeryâ€™. You changed your appearance, and you eventually found your daughter, but you realized she was no longer your true daughter.â€ The mob bossâ€™s face grew to pain and self-disgust as he fell to his knees before Jason. â€œPlease, I couldnâ€™t have paid the ransom. It would have ruined me.â€ â€œSo you leave your daughter for dead in an unknown country, and deny to her face that she exists? That is a crime only punishable by death.â€ Jason grabbed the man by his collar, pulling him up to face his demon. â€œFrank Mitchell, I sentence you to death.â€ â€œAre you a god?â€ he stammered. â€œNo. But I answer to one.â€ He brought his fist back- â€œJason, please-â€œthe boss pleaded. â€œNO!!! MY NAME IS JACK! I AM TOLD FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS!!â€ Jason, now Jack, pulled out the package. â€œI have something special for you Frank. This is a little invention of mine, and you get your own, with your name on it.â€ Frank was sobbing, blubbering like a child- he couldnâ€™t speak out of sheer terror. â€œTa-da! And now, I pass this unto you-â€œJack pushed the Auto- Smile into the mobsterâ€™s mouth. â€œAsk not for whom the bell tolls-â€œJack pulled Frank to his feet-â€œIt tolls for thee.â€ Jack pushed Frank Mitchell away from him, activating the Auto-Smileâ€™s trigger, and sending Frank tumbling through the large picture window.<br/>As his body tumbled to Earth, Jack sat down on the broken glass of the window sill, his legs dangling over a 45-story drop. He eventually heard an audible *Thwack* as the mobsterâ€™s body hit<br/>the pavement. â€œBeautiful nightâ€¦â€ Jack murmured, as he saw a black Buick roll up in front of the apartment. â€œWonder how sheâ€™ll take itâ€¦â€ he mused as he pushed himself off the edge, falling like a base jumper would, turning his body in flips and twists. Jack faced Earth-ward and saw the pavement rising up to greet him, and he, in response, opened his arms and bellowed â€œHello ground!!â€<br/>Darkness followed.