Bruce left his number for Jason when he left, but Jason didn't have time to contact him now because he needed money to rent a place, and he was busy looking for a job.
This was all too familiar to Jason, who grew up on the streets, he couldn't be clearer about where someone like him could find temporary work, and it did not take him long to find two jobs for himself.
The first was a worker at a moving company, not a regular moving company, but the kind that was a debt collection agency, simply put, if you don't pay the money, they empty your house.
Such moving companies require their employees to be not only strong but also look quite intimidating. Although they can't actually touch anyone, they need to give the impression that they're ready to toss your whole family out the moment they stand on your doorstep.
Jason was just perfect for this kind of work. He met all the conditions for a mover of this sort: robust build and fierce appearance, a glance from his eyes could send shivers down anyone's spine.
Such work was generally done at night because police stations closed then, making it harder for the other party to report to the police, and it also avoided being targeted by certain individuals.
The job Jason found for himself during the day was as a postman, not because he was really good at it, but because this job was seriously understaffed. The work was plentiful, the pay low, the location far from home, and it didn't allow people without work cards, but local Americans could earn much more than this by delivering food for the same distance.
Jason was mainly counting on the night job to make money. The day job was purely for getting to know the area, and also provided ample time and good reason to wander around various communities. If he did well, he could be transferred to the precinct where Bruce was in a couple of days. He wanted to see what this Batman was all about.
The moving company was in urgent need of people and he had to start right away that evening. So even though Jason knew Peter was still a bit sad, he really had no time to console him since the job paid well, and after working through the night, he could afford to stay at a motel the next morning. His physique really wasn't cut out for squeezing into Spider Man's tiny bedroom.
Jason had done this kind of work before, but back then he was very young and mainly used as a hostage.
Indeed, this is a very mature industry. Whether it's creditors or debtors who can resort to such debt collection methods, both parties are somewhat reputable, which means they still have to be concerned about the law and saving face; they're not barefoot ones who are not afraid of wearing shoes—meaning not just destitute desperados.
This leads to too many considerations for confrontation for both sides, which can be exploited for an advantage.
Pregnant women, the elderly, and children are excellent props. If they let you move and you don't want to, create a barricade of pregnant women at the door, and if the other party dares to touch one of them, the bail money could make their hearts bleed.
Western law places great importance on jury opinion, and juries tend to favor the underdog. If the victim is a socially-recognized vulnerable group, it's very likely that the sentence will be heavy.
On the other hand, possibly influenced by religious factors, they do not take petty theft very seriously. Many petty thieves are caught and not sentenced, merely chastised and released, but if you dare harm someone, you could be looking at a long imprisonment, sometimes bail doesn't even work.
So Jason occasionally played the role of a hostage for both sides, when someone didn't want to move, he would pretend to be somebody's son, crying and clinging to their legs to block the doorway, when someone wanted to collect debts, he'd pretend to be the child of the creditor, standing at the door to cooperate with his "parents" to create a show that not even the landlord's family had any reserves, often receiving generous pay.
He'd seen clearly how those violent movers operated, so right when he started the job, the boss patted his shoulder and asked if he was very experienced, how many years he'd been in the field.
Jason couldn't be bothered to chat, his face cold as he leaned against the truck waiting to set off, which pleased his boss even more; he liked those who talked little but worked hard.
Taking advantage of the cover of night, the fleet set off quickly. This time they were heading to a villa on the edge of Queens District, which although not as luxurious as Manhattan, still counted as a well-established affluent neighborhood.
The car quickly arrived at the target villa's doorstep where the lights inside were blazing, an obvious sign that they'd been prepared.
Jason and his colleagues didn't talk; they got out of the car and walked straight into the yard. Two elderly people immediately rushed out from inside the house to block them, Jason didn't even glance at them, and continued walking forward with his arms crossed, making sure not to touch anyone.
The others mostly adopted the same approach, just walking forward without touching those blocking them. The people behind carried boxes of furniture inside, ignoring the cries and leg-clinging; they didn't give it a second look.
The garage door was forcibly pried open, with the tow truck team already waiting outside. Jason and the others were responsible for standing by the main house door and blocking those who tried to run out.
After all, cars were big items, and often more valuable than the furniture, if they got blocked by the homeowners rushing out, that could mean a financial loss. Or if someone got hit while towing the cars, then a lawsuit would definitely ensue.
Everything was going without incident, and seeing so many strong men outside, the people inside the house did not dare to come out. Although the male homeowner hid behind a sofa with a gun, he had no intention of coming out.
This was mainly why the job offered high wages. People who didn't understand would shake their heads upon hearing about breaking into someone's home; after all, the homeowner might have a gun, and getting shot could be fatal.
Those who understood the ins and outs knew that there was really no need to fire in such a situation. Someone who could own a villa wouldn't just have one. They stayed to show that this villa was very important to them. If you took the house, the amount of debt to be negotiated becomes a key issue.
But at this moment, the female owner inside seemed to feel that their resistance wasn't strong enough, and suddenly charged out from behind the sofa, rushing to the door.
It would have been one thing if she had come over by herself, but she was holding a baby still in swaddling clothes, who was crying loudly at the moment.
Jason couldn't help but glance over there and as soon as he did, he realized that the child seemed to have a fever, his little face was flushed red, and his eyes could hardly open.
It was clear that the child wasn't the woman's own and that the woman probably wasn't the lady of the house either; they were essentially tools brought in to play a part.
After all, an infant swaddled in blankets couldn't possibly be paid to play a role. He appeared to be merely a prop for the woman and, judging by the looks of it, there was a good chance he wouldn't survive the night.
A surge of rage suddenly rose in Jason's heart. What in the world was this woman doing? Hadn't the master of the house told her that this was just going through the motions, that nobody would get hurt? Why risk a child's life for a bit more money?!
This thought stopped Jason in his tracks because it reminded him of a scene from his childhood.
That day, his luck wasn't great. While running errands on the street he was caught in a downpour. Even though he immediately found a roof to duck under, he was still drenched. After the rain stopped, he felt his throat sore, his nose blocked up, and a bit feverish.
But that night, he had just such a job to do: he had to play someone's son and plead with a creditor. By the time they faced the creditor, he was already burning up, his face pale, and his legs so weak that he couldn't even stand.
The creditor probably feared he'd die right there and, without saying much, relented quickly and sent them both away. After it was all over, the boss was particularly happy and even praised Jason for being smart, giving him an extra $10 on top of the agreed-upon price.
In Jason's childhood years, $10 was a lot of money. It kept him happy for several days and even when he did such jobs later on, he considered making himself look more pitiful, thinking perhaps he could finish faster and earn more money that way.
After all, a sick youth did evoke sympathy, but a gasping, constantly crying infant was even more likely to arouse people's compassion and make them afraid to say or do anything.
Half-grown children have their own sense of independence, so if anything happened, it could be blamed on their own doing. But a jury would never blame an infant still in its swaddling clothes; clearly, someone else would have to take the fall if anything went wrong.
The boss leading the convoy today must have thought the same thing. He looked at the woman with a dark expression and, with a gusto akin to having swallowed a fly, gestured to the moving company's workers to avoid the front door and just carry things out the side door.
Since the side door was limited in size, many large pieces of furniture couldn't be moved out, and they essentially just took some valuable electronics and small sculptures before hastily calling it a day.
Jason stood at the door. Seeing the smug look on the woman's face, he knew his guess was right—she was an actress who was hired, and the baby was just an additional prop.
His heart was nearly bursting with rage, and his disgust grew ever stronger. He nearly wanted to rush over and punch the woman.
But his teammates got into the truck with utmost speed, and the engine started immediately. Jason was pulled onto the truck by someone beside him, and once on the truck, he heard his colleagues remarking on how easy today's job had been.
But of course, those appliances, no matter how heavy, weren't as heavy as the precious wooden furniture made of solid wood, nor were they as troublesome as those valuable, fragile, large sculptures. To move only the appliances was virtually like getting money for nothing.
Everyone's faces were full of smiles, and they even had time to joke around with the new guy Jason, who was increasingly feeling nauseated and just sat with a stern face, silent.
The truck took Jason directly to his so-called residence. He got off planning to instantly check into a motor inn, but now, with his mind in turmoil, he decided to walk to the Hudson River to catch a breath of air.
Christmas was nearly here, and New York had just had a snowfall. The cold wind at night was bone-chilling but helped clear Jason's head considerably.
He suddenly realized how much he had changed over the years. If he were still a child, he probably would've shared his colleagues' happiness, enjoying the easy work and ample pay. After all, what was there to dampen his spirits?
Jason leaned on the railing at the riverbank, stuck his head out to look at the reflections in the water. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, his face gradually transformed in his view, becoming younger and more naive.
"Please," Small Jason said on the water's surface, "you feel sorry for that infant? Why not spare a little pity for yourself? What does it matter if his mom is bad to him? Do you even have a mom?"
"What's that? You say his mom almost killed him? But what's the difference between your mom abandoning you in Gotham's alleys and killing you? I think the former might be even more dangerous!"
"Jason Todd, wasn't our original goal just to survive? As long as we can live, we'd do anything. It's tough enough taking care of ourselves; when did you have the luxury of feeling sympathy for others?"
Indeed, Jason thought, since when did he have the luxury of feeling sympathy for others?