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Jason understood he wasn’t everyone's favorite to work with but even that didn’t explain the oppressive mood that was felt in the Batcave as he was returning from patrol. He knew something was wrong when he noticed a distinct lack of flying rats on the city's rooftops. Usually they were everywhere getting on his nerves but tonight he only ran into Steph and Damian. Looking around now at his siblings there is one thing he can tell. And that is that they look like shit.
“So who pissed in the coffee?” Jason inquiries.
Tim piers up from his case folder and responds “That's what we're trying to figure out.”
Jason sighs, “ Yeah, I get that but what's the case.”
This time it's Bruce responds, “ A series of ritualistic killings have been running through the City”
“Ritualistic?” Jason presses.
Cass hands him her case folder. “Look. Too late, going to bed anyways. Good night” She smiles to the room and heads up to the manor.
Jason turns his attention to the folder. In it Jason is met with the photos of seven bare dead bodies and their relative crime scenes. Their throats were painted with a dark red that brought out the ashyness of death in even the most tan of them. As striking as the blood was, Jason was glad it was covering up the wounds that caused it. He flipping to the next side he was met with the dorsal side of the victims. Their backs had ugly sharp whip lacerations going from the neck to the things. Jason’s stomach flipped and his pre patrol snack threatened to make its way up his esophagus. You would think beheading a bag full of drug lords would mean you could handle gory situations but just like when he first came to the manor he has the weakest stomach of the bunch. But nevertheless Jason pushes on and starts to look at the elephant in the crime scene. A large complex circle painted on the floor in a suspicious red. The circle was decorated with intricate designs and a slew of dead languages. Despite all the killing being exactly the same the circles were all wildly different with variations in size, complexity, and language.
Tim interjects his ponderings with “ The killings happening every new moon between 11 P.M. to 2:30 A.M.”
“Isn’t this something we would usually let Constantine handle?” Jason prodded.
“Yes, but unfortunately this was Azrael until recently and since the case has come into our possession Constantine has been M.I.A.” Bruce tensely expand
Jason, trying to lighten the mood, said “Azrael is still alive? Fucking hate that guy.”
“Yeah he’s like the scrappy-doo of the bat family. No matter how many times we kick him to the curb and try to forget about him he always comes back.” Tim adds on.
“Enough, we only have three days until the next new moon. Tim, go through our database for abandoned buildings and try to find which one they will use next. And Jason, if you want to help, try to find the meaning behind the symbols.” Bruce, putting an end to the conversation, went back to his research along with Tim and Jason.
-
“Hood, come in.” Oracle's voice sparked to life on the comms.
Jason turned his speaker on as he jumped over to the next roof. “Yeah, I'm here. Did they figure out where it's gonna be?”
“Not quite, Red Robin narrowed it down to three locations in Robbinsville, the Warehouse district, and Burnley. Red Robin is going to Burnley. Batman and Robin got the Warehouse district. Can you go check out Robbinsville? Black Bat and Spoiler will meet up later.” Jason stopped in his tracks. Robbindville and the Warehouse district were right by each other but Burnley was all the way in the middle of uptown. If that is where the ritual was being held then backup would take longer to get there.
“No, I'm not letting Replacement go to Burnley. I’m closer anyways.”
“Red Robin can hold his own, Hood.”
“Just give me the address” Jason turned and started heading to Burnley.
-
Jason arrived at the decrepit warehouse. Like many warehouses in Gotham it had been reclaimed by both the people and the earth. The “green” ,as he has had Ivy and Swamp Thing refer to it so many times before, had broken the concrete base and climbed the rusted metal walls. The said walls and concrete were covered with graffiti from local teens and the thriving rave scene.
Jason climbed up the ladder connected to the building checking first that it won’t give away. Getting up to where the rust had eaten away a large hunk of metal he was able to look inside. The first thing he noticed was that there were about 20 people wearing what had to be the most stereotypical, stupid looking black cloaks. They look like they got em half priced at Gotham’s worst rated Spirit Halloween. The second was the candles. The candles were everywhere, there was barely anywhere to stand let alone walk the farther you got from the middle of the warehouse. Using candles did add some scene of aesthetics to the place with the long dancing shadows that they produced. It could have been compared to those Catholic weddings that Jason went to when he was a kid, if not for it being the direct antithesis.
“Oracle, looks like I’m the lucky winner.”
“Stay where you are. I’m rerouting the others to your location.”
“You got it.”
Unfortunately that plan went 6 feet under almost immediately as the cultist-cloak dudes started chanting in a greco-latin language.
“Shit, Oracle, we may have a tiny problem.”
“What’s going on?”
The cultist started chanting faster as the circle started glowing.
“They’ve started the ritual, and it looks like it's working.”
“Ok, hang tight. Batman and Robin-”
Babs' words fall on deaf ears when he sees the cloaked men pull out a bound victim from a back room. The woman is struggling against the rope dyed with blood from her rubbed wrists. Her muffled cries shake Jason at his very core. Cries that, no matter how long in the field he has been, affect Jason.
“-Hood, do you understand?”
“Sorry, but I don’t think she can wait that long.”
“What are you going to do? Hood! Hood! JASON! Shit-”
Babs’ voice gets cut off as Jason crushes the comm between his fingers. Moving into the building he forwent being quiet in favor of getting to the woman faster. As he got closer the speaking seemed to speed up again and a man pulled out a knife. Jason moved faster but he felt like he was wading through gelatin. What was visible of the man’s features seemed to grow ghoulish as his skinny knobbly finger grabbed at the woman’s brassy hair. Jason was knocking down candles in his rush. He is so close, he is almost there when hands, more hands then what should be possible for less than 20 people, grab him and stop him in his tracks. As the man puts his knife up to the woman's neck she makes eye contact with Jason. He sees her wide brown eyes full of fear. The knife moves across her neck jaw to jaw like it was made of butter instead of skin. For a split second the skin is parted and Jason lets himself hope that it was more superficial than it looked. Then, like a papercut, the blood from the carotid arteries floods to the surface and the life drains from her face. The sound of her body hitting the floor echos though the warehouse as the cloaked figures stopped chanting.
No one moved. What was, realistically, only a couple of seconds felt like minutes to Jason. Then, all of a sudden, the candles flickered out and the only light source left in the room was the sickly green of the circle. Excited murmurs traveled through the crowd like a plague and as the green light increased so did the intensity of the conversations. Jason himself found entranced by it but couldn’t place his finger on why. Until the light became too bright that not even the most eager bare to look.
Once the light died down, and they all cleared the sun spots from their eyes, there stood a boy. Jason could not move. It wasn’t because he was being held, as they had begun to let go after the boy appeared. No, Jason wasn’t moving on his body's account. His mind was screaming at him to run, cower, yell, anything. Although it looked like a boy in theory everything about it was wrong. Somehow as it scanned the room its glowing green iris wasn’t what was most off putting but its unusually large sclera. When it's awful eyes landed on Jason it stopped and started moving towards him. He says move instead of “walk” because what it did wouldn't be considered walking by anyone who could manage to watch it. Unfortunately Jason did not have a choice. Tendons and bones seemed to have no control over how it moved, making any onlooker want to cringe and grind their teeth .With every step its legs seemed to over extend and shift in ways that disturbed its mimicry of the human shape. As it grows closer the hairs on Jason’s neck rouse despite being compressed by his kevlar. Jason has always felt protected by his kevlar blend but now he feels trapped by it and his useless body too. His breath quickened and it reminded him of an episode of Scooby-Doo he saw when he was a kid. In the episode smart, cool headed Velma is scared. They are at a carnival and Velma is scared of clowns. Jason is scared of death. He is afraid. In the show Velma has a paper bag to breathe into. He needs a paper bag . Continuing its slow marionette walk Jason can hardly stand the thought of its conclusion. But it comes.
It lends down until face to face with him. His eyes, being the only thing that seems to be listening to his brain, look everywhere but it’s sickly orbits. This leaves Jason staring at its poreless doll-like skin. Its ashy skin reminds Jason of all those victims in the photos, it reminds him of the girl he just watched bleed out, it reminds him of Catherine. Feeling a cold breath hit his skin he continued his journey down its face. Its teeth were almost as bad as its eyes. The teeth resembled most mammal carnivores in their shape and pre-teens in their crookedness. And as it moved its mouth to form what was probably words you could see its receding gums. As it tried to talk to Jason for a few moments more it reached out for him. The freezing fingers gripped his shoulder and pulled him forwards. Jason terror reached the boiling point and felt the boiling water run down his leg.
Jason’s body almost broke its vow of silence when he felt another hand grab him from behind. Being pulled away from danger and into familiar arms. Being semi dragged through the door almost immediately Jason’s ears popped and he fell to his hands in pain and relief. Feeling a bile rise up his throat he started taking off his helmet but not quite in time. It seemed to get everywhere both on the ground and on his person. Between the lurching of the stomach and the acid in the esophagus it hurt. After emptying the contents of his stomach and a little more he fell to the ground.
“Are you ok, Jason?” Tim asked.
And Jason’s world went black.