DC: I Became A Godfather

They say fate has a twisted sense of humor.

Adam watched the kid in front of him—baggy coat, busted sneakers, wary eyes that never stayed still—and thought: "You're going to become a legend, and you don't even know it yet."

Jason Todd. Future second Robin. The street rat who once dared to jack the Batmobile's wheels. The same boy who'd rise to wear the cape left behind by Dick Grayson… and die for it.

Adam was staring at him before the scars, before the trauma, before the fire and crowbar and coffin, before he became the Red Hood.

'Hell of a road ahead of you,' Adam thought quietly. 

'But..', He smiled sinisterly, 'Maybe I can change that.'

In the original timeline, Jason Todd was never meant to survive.

DC had created him as a replacement.

When Dick Grayson stepped out of the tights and into his solo career as Nightwing, the suits at DC panicked. The Batman-Robin dynamic was too iconic to drop cold so, they rushed out a copy. Jason Todd.

Same circus backstory. Same tragic orphan origin. Same cheesy charm. Even dyed his hair to match Dick's. But Jason wasn't Dick. The fans easily noticed that.

They hated him. The calls flooded in—literally.

A reader poll in '88 decided his fate. By a margin of 16 votes, Jason Todd was sentenced to death by popular vote.

Blown to pieces by the Joker.

Dead and forgotten.

Until DC brought him back years later as a ghost with a gun.

Adam knew all of this. He knew where it led. But when he looked at the real Jason—just a kid chewing on nerves, voice cracking, eyes full of guilt—he couldn't help but feel a flicker of something rare.

Pity? No.

Responsibility.

"Thanks for tipping me off last night," Adam said quietly, dropping his usual bravado for a rare, solemn tone. "I owe you."

Jason, unsure how to react, shuffled his feet.

"Wasn't… really a big deal," the boy mumbled. "I just overheard them. They were talking about you. Real angry. Sounded like they were planning something."

His fingers fidgeted at his sides, twisting together in nervous loops.

"I didn't catch the last part. The third plan. I was gonna listen longer but… I got scared. Sorry."

Adam studied him for a moment. This wasn't the cocky street hustler he expected. This wasn't the future Red Hood.

This was just a scared kid. One who wanted to help.

In canon, Jason was always the wild card. Reckless. Defiant. Brutal when crossed.

But underneath it all was the one who wanted to belong more than anyone.

He called Batman dad before Damian ever existed. He chased rumors of his birth mother all the way to Eastern Europe—and died for it.

Came back from the grave bitter, broken and when he realized Batman didn't avenge him, that love turned to rage and Red Hood was born.

But it didn't start that way. It started here. With a kid who still believed in good.

Adam saw that, and something in him shifted.

'If he had someone watching out for him,' Adam thought, 'someone real—not some cold, half-psychotic bat-daddy who forgets to put him in the damn family portraits—maybe Jason wouldn't end up in a wooden shed, screaming under the Joker's crowbar.'

'Maybe he doesn't need a billionaire in a cape. Maybe he just needs someone who gives a damn.'

It was a wild thought.

And it wouldn't leave him alone.

Jason kept apologizing, awkward and rambling.

Adam finally waved it off with a grin.

"What are you worried about, huh?" he said. "Where I'm from, we say: If nobody's out to get you, you're doing something wrong."

Jason blinked.

Adam clapped a hand on the kid's shoulder.

"And this time, thanks to you, I didn't get got."

He stepped back, then added with mock drama:

"So I owe you one. A big one. In fact, forget money—it's boring. You get one wish. Anything you want. Say the word, and I'll make it happen—even if I've gotta fight through hell and high water."

Jason stared, wide-eyed.

From anyone else, that would've sounded like empty talk.

But from Adam—scarred, swaggering, cigarette-scented detective with nothing to prove—it landed differently.

It felt real.

Jason's voice was small.

"Anything…?"

His eyes were sparkling now, excitement and disbelief swirling like a storm.

Adam just smiled, flicked ash from his cigarette, and leaned in.

"Try me."

Of course, Jason didn't ask for money. Adam already knew he wouldn't.

Even when he became the Red Hood, Jason never crossed certain lines. He told drug dealers to steer clear of kids. He enforced order where the Bat turned a blind eye. He was ruthless, but never rotten.

'A kid like this', Adam thought, 'You invest in him.'

Jason didn't know it yet.

But standing across from him, smiling like the world wasn't on fire, was a man ready to derail his whole fate.

A man who'd seen the original script and decided it was bullshit.

Adam had seen too many kids eaten alive by Gotham.

Jason wasn't going to be another.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

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