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"-I'm gonna kill myself, I'm gonna kill myself, I'm gonna kill myself, I'm gonna- fffffuckshitno-" Jason winced as he quickly retracted the All-Blades, flames extinguishing while he ducked behind one of the mucky, damp brick walls lining the vast maze that was the Gotham sewer system. He held his breath as the area went dark and a ghoulish whisper tickled the back of his neck, echoing down the disgusting tunnels. He listened to crackling steps stoically tip-tapping their way across the stone, slowing to a stop in response to his accidental slip-up of kicking a pebble into the sewer water next to him.
He waited.
Tip, tip, tip...
He let out a breath of relief. It hadn't figured out he was there.
'It' was in reference to the goddamn banshee that he'd caught on to hunting around the east side of Gotham, that for some stupid fucking unknown reason, he had to deal with. Well, he took that back, he knew exactly why he was the one that had to deal with it. It was because God hated him and wanted him to suffer.
Ok, so maybe he hadn't ever met god, but he did maintain that if the fucker existed (and he had faint memories of going to heaven and apparently not making a good first impression if instantly getting sucked back down into his body was any kind of indicator, so it was honestly pretty likely at this point) then he/she/they clearly must think it pretty fuckin' funny to mess with him specifically, so he wouldn't disregard 'petty spite' as the true reasoning for his new unwilling 'hobby'.
It had been happening more and more lately. Jason wasn't sure if he was only noticing it now because he was becoming more used to being a user of the All-Blades or whether it was a genuinely recent development in Gotham, but for some reason the amount of incidents involving supernatural beings that had no reason to be around apart from to try and prey on unsuspecting civilians in and around Jason's territory was... increasing an alarming amount. And the worst part? Jason was the only one who seemed equipped to deal with it.
Consequences of being the only user of a magical ability specifically designed to destroy all forms of 'true evil'; Jason seemed to be the only one with the knack needed to notice when something going on in Gotham's underbelly was actually down to some kind of demon or supernatural creature, and he was the only one with a built in repellent that kept him safe while hunting them down.
Not that it still wasn't annoyingly dangerous to skulk around after banshees and malicious primordial entities. Especially when doing so meant he had to blow off book club so he could take a stroll through the disgusting sewer system after a murderous woman who had a penchant for travelling via ominous mist clouds and screaming people to death. His only plan was 1: not get yelled at, and 2: try not to get banshee blood on himself, because apparently demon blood doesn't fucking wash out like the usual stuff.
Like he said, God wanted him to suffer.
Following the creature through the sewers wasn't as interesting as it might be were he a cool character on a dark, gritty TV show. He was hungry, bored, and really irritated about how slow he had to walk in order not to attract attention. But this wasn't the first banshee he'd had to deal with, and he knew enough by now to know that they usually nested in packs, which meant if he wanted to cut out the problem at the root, then he needed to follow this one back to base so he could get rid of them all in one fell swoop. Maybe that way he wouldn't have to do something like this again for a while and he could finally take a goddamn break.
He slipped down disgusting pathways, silence cloaking his presence as he continued to track the creature. He'd been at it for about two hours now, book club long ended as evening started descending upon the city. He had to make it back in time to change out of his civilian outfit and into Red Hood's gear if he wanted to go meet up with Tim and exchange info on the latest Black Mask pop-up during the bats' regular patrol hours, so he needed to make this one quick.
There was a sudden absence of the now long-familiar tip-tip-tip that he'd been tracking, and Jason halted abruptly, pulling the flaming blades he was using to light his way back again. He waited, quiet, to see what would happen.
His stomach growled. Loudly. Fuck.
The banshee shifted, head snapping around in alarm. Its eyes started to glow in warning, pupils darting about until they landed on the faintest hint of warm orange coming from the corner Jason was crouched behind. Its mouth opened in a snarl, blackened teeth sharp. Inwardly, Jason groaned.
"I really am going to kill myself." He muttered, standing straight and preparing for what he was sure was about to be a ridiculously annoying fight. The banshee screamed.
"Oh, hey littlewing, fancy seeing- oh, ew."
Jason paused in his task of clambering out of a sewer grate, holding back an eyeroll as a familiar blue-suited vigilante landed in the road next to him. After a pause to simply stare at the tarmac in front, eyes deadened in preparation for the interaction to come, he continued to clamber out. Black goo mixed with vicious vermillion blood dripped from his body, coating him and leading him to wipe his eyes as he stretched his back out, clicking his muscles. "What do you want, goldie?"
"Well I was just gonna say hi... but now I wanna know if you're ok," Dick walked forward, reaching out as if to touch him only to jerk back at the last second, remembering the current status of their relationship. Jason scowled at him.
"I'm fine, the blood isn't mine." This information did not seem to placate him. "What are you even doing here?"
"I was dealing with a bank robbery a couple blocks over, and now I'm on my way to meet with B and Robin." His eyes widened slightly. "But I can totally blow them off if you're in the middle of some big case, I can help you out or-"
"For the last fucking time," Jason ground out. "No."
"But I-"
"This doesn't involve you, dickface." Jason sighed. He was tired; it turns out he'd been closer to the 'nest' than he'd thought when the banshee had spotted him, so the fight had rapidly spun out of control and taken way longer than he'd wanted to deal with. He'd accidentally swallowed some of that stupid goop, his arms ached, and he'd definitely ruined his favourite sweatshirt. By the time that All-Blade hum inside of him died down to let him know that the 'evil' in the vicinity was eradicated, he was done for the night. He fully planned on slipping on his jacket and helmet, scaring the shit out of Red Robin by showing up menacingly covered in blood, harassing him into handing over his case notes, and then pissing off to shower and collapse into bed. Getting through another awkwardly emotional display of want for a closer brotherly relationship from Dick was not on his to-do list.
"You seem tired, though." Dick pointed out, concerned. "What case are you even working on that puts you in a sewer in civilian clothing?!"
"Ghosts and goblins." Jason snapped back sarcastically. He spun on his heel, flipping off the vigilante behind him as he started off down the street in the vague direction that he remembered leaving his motorcycle parked at. "Go back to your bank robberies, you muggle."
"Muggle...?" He heard Dick mumble to himself, baffled, as he walked off. "The fuck are you- Jason- where are you- Jason-!"
If being the second Robin did nothing else for him, at least Jason could say that it prepared him ever-so-slightly, for the bullshit he had to deal with now.
It wasn't that there were a lot of demonistic creatures running around Gotham during the golden era (a name coined by Tim that had almost gotten him stabbed by Jason when he'd first heard the kid use it in conversation with Dick. The idea that there had been anything special about being Batman and Robin right up until Jason managed to fuck up the magic by getting himself killed was one that built up a lot of resentment within him), but more that there was a clear difference in the... vibe of the things going down, between then and now. So to speak.
Even Jason had to admit, back during that era when Batman and Robin were just Batman and Robin, Gotham's one and only vigilante duo fighting crime on the streets and producing stupid bat-gadgets to deal with increasingly ridiculous issues that the city had, things were just... different. Even when Jason was Robin and Nightwing made his debut, Dick was mostly in Bludhaven, and when he wasn't he was sporting the Discowing suit, meaning he more added to the loony-tunes-esque situation Gotham had going on back then rather than anything else. Back when Jason was Robin, there was no bat-system of hardcore vigilantes going around and methodically keeping Gotham safe. There was Batman, his brightly-coloured tights-wearing kid tagalong, a bunch of equally colourful rogues still sparking with the excitement of having newly figured out just how insane of a chaotic crime they could spin with enough effort, and a batsignal that went off almost every night like a call to arms. Things weren't gritty back then, even if it still was definitely not a child-friendly environment. Things were... sillier. More idiotic. More prone to random magical incidents that required a certain level of knowledge about the mystic arts to fight around.
That was the magic that Robin gave Jason. The magic of existing in a world parallel to normal civilian life, yet not quite dipped in the blackness of humanity as it should have been. A world more akin to a comedic thriller rather than the devastating horror that showed up more and more often nowadays. Today, though? Jason had noticed the second he returned from the league of assassins that the weird rose-tinted light over Gotham's unsafe environment was just... gone. Decayed. He'd thought it was just him at first, a by-product of Ethiopia and more proof that when he'd come back he'd done it wrong. But after hanging around the bats more and more due to his and Bruce's tentative truce, he could see that it wasn't just him. Dick had that same wariness around him. The only other one who had grown up with the magic like him; he recognised the winces and looks that Dick gave, that pensive sadness that appeared during moments of nostalgic similarity. That slight indication that just like he did, Dick could sense how different things had become.
A month back Duke had reported seeing what he could only describe as a 'Medusa looking motherfucker' with blood-soaked hands and snakes for hair slinking into the window of an abandoned building during the dayshift. He'd tried to follow only to lose it, and nobody else in the bat-clan had managed to turn up any information about it. The whole sighting seemed to have really freaked Duke out. Bruce had finally discarded it as a false alarm, and Damian had mocked the older boy by saying he'd simply 'watched too many ghost shows on TV and fabricated something ridiculous out of what was probably a random homeless junkie looking for a place to take her next hit'. Tim had held similar levels of disbelief, and Steph hadn't taken it seriously from the beginning. But Dick had locked eyes with Jason across the rooftop the night they were discussing it and instantly announced 'oooh, snake hair, that reminds me of back when Ivy used to go all out on her crimes, d'ya remember Jay? When all the plants would come to life and try to eat you? Man, I miss that kind of stuff. Remember when we convinced her to let you take one home as a pet until Bruce made you leave it behind because he thought it would work as some kind of tracker and give her your home address?'. Jason had almost found himself smiling at the memory until Bruce had ruined the moment by opening his big mouth again and telling them they all needed to get back on track. His point stood, however, that Dick really was the only one that understood and shared Jason's understanding of the more wacky/unexplainable cases that went on within Gotham's streets.
That was probably why, a week or two after the banshee incident, Dick was the one that followed him when he snuck away from a rendezvous with the bats on the outskirts of Crime Alley during an Arkham outbreak, one of the very few scenarios in which he allowed the bats full access to his territory. It wasn't a big deal, a few of the lower-level patients had escaped and caused a bit of a panic; most were already apprehended, Bruce had just wanted a quick meet up to establish a plan to find the one guy still running around out there. Jason wasn't needed anymore, so when that buzz inside him started picking up and indicating that something was off nearby, he slipped away and started following his internal sense, trusting himself to find whatever the fuck it was that was making the All-Blades scream WRONG WRONG WRONG inside his head.
"Psst," Dick landed in front of him when he slipped out the fire escape, following him as he quickly started taking the stairs down two at a time. He stage whispered, "Where are we going?"
On any other day, Jason might have stopped. Turned around to sneer, insult, ensure he wouldn't be followed, and carry on in peace. But the warning bell inside him was getting stronger, and he had a feeling that whatever was going on was both nearby and something that should be of high priority. He had a tough relationship with Dick, sure, but dealing with it wasn't more important than making sure his alley's people weren't being hunted by beings of pure evil.
So today, he didn't give Dick a glance, just continued to rush down the fire escape.
"Something's come up, just go back to the others and help out with the breakout."
"They don't need me, come on Jason! I can help you with whatever you're gonna do!" Dick whined, following him anyway as he turned out into the street. "We haven't worked a case together since- since-" He faltered, scrambling. Jason rolled his eyes, letting his body lead him towards a nearby building, what looked like some shitty chemist with a cracked window.
"Since I died?" He commented dryly. He felt Dick slump behind him.
"We haven't spent any time together since you came back. I miss you, Jay. Why can't we- I dunno, work a case together? Go on a stakeout? Get some shitty coffee? Hang out!"
"You never bothered with wanting to spend time with me before I died." Jason pointed out. The feeling was getting stronger, and he moved around the back of the building to see if he could get inside without invoking any damage to the building.
"Jason," Dick said softly, regretfully. Jason wasn't paying any more attention. The noise inside his head was blaring, and he knew that there was something off about the building. He pulled a crowbar from his utility belt and tore a few boards off a missing window space, starting to clamber inside. He gritted his teeth to hold back a groan at the sound of Dick crawling through after him.
The building wasn't abandoned, Jason knew that because he'd bought max-strength pain killers from the place after one too many concussions mixed with a touch of alcohol poisoning due to one of his chief subordinates calling him a pussy with a low alcohol tolerance and- well. He couldn't let that kind of disrespect slide. For the sake of his reputation.
He'd won that battle.
The place was still run down as fuck, however, and the lights didn't turn on when he tried the switch. He pulled out a penlight instead, doing large sweeps of the storage area they'd climbed into.
"What are we doing here?" Dick whispered at his shoulder, and he sighed, accepting defeat.
"I'm investigating, and you need to fuck off back to your little family get-together." He mumbled, starting to slowly make his way through the filing cabinets, working his way methodically towards the main room.
"I'm good here," Dick chirped quietly. "Whatever it is you're doing, I can help."
"Fuckin' doubt it," Jason mumbled to himself. Still, he was too focused on pinpointing the source of discomfort the All-Blades were giving him, so he didn't do anything to stop his brother as he moved into the main space of the store, coming out behind the counter and surveying the darkened room. Nothing. He was close though, he could sense it.
Hopping over the counter he continued to sweep the room, dim shaft of light roaming the dusty shelves and bottles of non-prescription meds. He zeroed in on a signed door claiming to lead to a cleaning cupboard, and when he forced it open he noticed a few loose planks in the floor, half covered by a gross old mop-bucket. Jason had a hunch, so he knelt down and started to lever the boards up.
"Woah," Dick whispered behind him, picking up the abandoned penlight to shine it down and light Jason's path for him, revealing as he brought the boards up and uncovered a dark musty hole, some kind of damp-smelling basement space. "How did you know that was there?"
"Felt it." He said back absently, bringing away the final board. He took the light from Dick's grasp, shining it down and squinting at the lack of ladder or stairs. It was clearly an entrance to something, except whatever was using it didn't need help getting in and out of vertical spaces. That did not bode well, especially considering how much his danger-sense was screaming at him. He sighed. "Alright, you stay up here. See you later."
And with that, he edged forward and jumped into the darkness, not waiting for a response.
"Jason wa-" He was gone.
Once he landed, bending at the knees and feet aching from the force of the fall, the stench hit him. Rot, decay, meat. It somehow permeated the helmet, making him gag as he stretched to his feet. He'd tried to muffle the sound of his fall as much as possible, but not even the All Caste training could stop the way his boots splashed into a puddle of something below his feet. Penlight gone, he switched his helmet to night vision, narrowing his eyes at the pool of blood he'd landed in.
Shit.
Further examining the space, he quickly realised just how bad the situation was. Bodies, in various states of decomposition, scattered the stone floor. Bones jutted out of bug-infested flesh, blood scattered the ground, and torn scraps of clothing littered the area, hidden in between old stacks of boxes. Whatever was using that place as a base wasn't using it for anything good.
His penlight splashed into the blood at his feet, and moments later, Nightwing joined him. He stumbled, slipping on the puddle, and Jason jolted as his arm was used as a balancing aid.
"What the- oh, fuck." Dick emphasised softly, picking up the penlight and using it to spot the mess at his feet. That reaction only grew as the light then moved to slowly pan across the rest of the room. "You fucking felt this?"
"Yes." Jason snapped back softly, on edge. "And now I'm feeling that you should fucking leave, before you- oooh... fuck. Me." He breathed. His face went slack as there was a slight shift on the other end of the room and he finally locked eyes with the culprit; a bald, ashen skinned humanoid figure that wore nothing but a strap of cloth around its waist. It watched them, intelligent eyes zeroing in on Dick before narrowing in interest. Jason stilled instantly, shifting his feet ever so slightly in case he needed to dive in front of his brother. "It's a fucking wendigo." He realised.
"Huh?" Dick asked cluelessly, turning to look at him. That was when the wendigo attacked.
Jason had only run into a few wendigos before, none of which were even in Gotham, but rather while he was out on international missions on business with the league or All Cast. He knew how powerful they were, though, and the craving they had for consuming human flesh. Knew they were almost immortal, stronger than 50 men combined and with intelligence to match. They were amazing hunters, and possessed superhuman speed only beaten by the Flash himself. Basically they were a fucking pain, and while Jason had experience hunting them down, Dick sure as fuck didn't.
Jason blinked and the creature was in front of them, inches away from Dick's face, and he flinched backwards in surprise, taking in the sight. "Holy fuck-" The next second, he'd been picked up and thrown across the room, crashing through a cluster of bone and box before smashing into the wall with a loud grunt. The wendigo darted forward again, now on the other side of the room with Jason's brother, claws reaching out for his masked face.
Jason panicked, drawing on that power inside him until the familiar warmth of the All-Blades settled in his palms. He drew back an arm and flung one towards the pair, the flaming sword pinning itself into the wall just above where Dick was slumped. The wendigo screeched, jumping back in alarm, and it turned to snarl furiously at Jason. He held the other blade up in warning, and it flinched back, darting to another corner of the room. The next second there was a rush of wind as it suddenly lunged towards him. He prepared to stab the thing as it attacked, but it instead leaped over his head, landing in the space behind him, and by the time he turned to take a shot at it, it was already screeching at him in anger before jumping straight up, easily springing up and out of the basement.
"God, fuck!" Jason snapped angrily, throwing the other blade at the floor in frustration. It was gone, and he'd missed his chance. Now not only was there an angry wendigo loose on the public, but it knew it had a hunter after it. That made his job so much fucking harder. He groaned in annoyance as he dissipated his power, the blades once again fading into existence. He heard a grunt and a cough behind him, and he turned to see Dick struggling to his feet, clutching at his ribs.
"Man... that hurt." He winced, limping away from the wall. "Hood... the fuck was that?"
"The reason I told you to fuck off, jackass. I told you, this is my business, not yours."
"What kind of business is that?" Dick asked, mystified. "Are you fighting metas now!? Did he get away?"
"S' not a meta." Jason complained, hanging his head, still half-thinking about how much of a pain in the ass dealing with a whole fucking wendigo in the middle of Gotham was going to be. "It's a wendigo. And it fucking knows I'm after it now."
Dick blinked at him in the darkness, face blank. "It's a what?"
"Evil immortal cannibals." He ground out, explaining. "Immune to almost all damage except fire, which is the only reason you're still alive, by the way."
"Yeah, question two, the hell did you get those swords from?! And where did you-" He spun around suddenly, scanning the ground in bafflement. "Where did they go? I swear I saw- what-?"
Tiredly, Jason glared at him. "All-Blades, magic swords of justice that I can only summon in the face of true evil. I'd show you, but the wendigo left already, and you suck but you aren't quite enough to trigger them."
Dick turned to him, squinting. He paused for a moment. "...You have magic swords?"
A hum. "It's a resurrection thing." He decided to settle on. "They're like, the only thing on this earth that can reliably deal with supernatural shit like this."
Another pause. "And you-" Dick coughed. "And you've dealt with this kind of stuff before?"
"Who. The fuck. Else. Is going to." He gritted, glaring across at him. Dick went quiet, and the basement's darkness seemed to flatten the air around them as they stood in each other's company, slightly awkward.
Dick swallowed, making an aborted gesture over at him. "So what are you a ghostbuster or something?"
"Oh my god," Jason groaned to himself, instantly turning and walking over to the hole leading out, preparing his grapple so he could leave. He did not have time for this.
"I can help!"
"Dickface, the last time you came up against anything supernatural you got one-shotted into the side of the wall."
"I was caught off guard, Jason."
He scoffed at Nightwing's hiss, looking up from where he was reassembling one of his sniper rifles on an abandoned balcony, the other vigilante watching (bothering) him from where he was crouched on the railing. "You have no knowledge of these things, wing. Nor do you got any kind of supernatural weapon, or access to one. Not to mention, I don't like you."
"I can learn, can't I?" Dick huffed. "And two is always better than one when it comes to insane shit. I don't even need to be on the front lines, there's no way it won't be more helpful for you to have another pair of eyes and ears out doing reconnaissance. I'll call you the second I think I could be in danger; you know I will! And you like me a little bit..." He tilted his head, pleading. "I want to help out my brother, Jason. You kept complaining that I didn't want to hang out of you back then... well I'm trying to fix that now! Can't that count for something!?"
Jason hung his head in irritation, eyelids drooping.
The issue was that part of him did want to accept. Dick was right; doing both his regular Red Hood gig while also fitting in extra supernatural-hunting escapades was wearing him out, and having somebody else to delegate busy-work to so that he could cut down on wasted time would be helpful. If he could have somebody to investigate leads and report back whether or not there actually seemed to be a supernatural presence in the vicinity, he might actually have some time to rest every now and then. Not to mention Dick was most likely his best bet to carry out that sort of job; he did trust the elder to know when he couldn't handle a fight, and he was probably the only bat not too stubborn to actually ask for help, unlike the others.
But more than that... there was an irritating little nostalgic centre of Jason Todd that wondered if it might be nice to involve Dick with his new side gig. That thought maybe it could be similar to when Bruce would force Nightwing and Robin into team ups back during the golden era, where they'd work side by side in frosty silence for the first few hours before the night air and adrenaline of swinging would loosen their relationship slightly, Dick warming up to him and actually treating Jason like he was his little brother. Jason had treasured those moments so much as a kid, and even though he had refused to accept Dick's apparent change of heart once he'd revealed his resurrection, he did still crave that relationship, even if he refused to admit it.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Jason sighed heavily. He looked up, glaring over at Dick pointedly. "You're staying away from the wendigo hunt."
"I'm staying away from the wendigo hunt!" Dick instantly agreed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Whatever you want, littlewing." He grinned. "So what are we doing tonight?"
Another sigh. Jason held up his rifle, standing up and squaring his shoulders. "Tonight, something easy but annoying. Tonight, we go deal with the bunch of vampires that showed up in the Diamond District a week or so back."
Dick lit up. "Vampires are real!?"
Jason moved past his older brother, hopping onto the railing next to him and shooting a grapple line out into the night. "If you do that for everything supernatural I tell you actually exists, you won't be allowed to come anymore."
"...So Buffy isn't real? I can't use a wooden stake?"
"You make me so angry." Jason observed plainly. Dick grinned widely in response, taking the sniper from his hands and examining it carefully. "The wooden stake thing is bullshit, you can only kill vampires through complete immolation or beheading. I have a fire-sword, so I can do both, but you have nothing, so you're staying out here."
"Jason," Dick complained, slumping, but Jason cut him off firmly.
"The coven works out of that warehouse down there, and they're fuckin' powerful, ok? I'm gonna go in and stir them up, turn on the lights, and you're gonna stay out here with the sniper and focus on the windows. Once I get everything started you should be able to locate them from up here and take a few down. Shoot them in the head directly or you won't do anything but piss them off, and then I'll have to deal with them. Got it?"
Dick narrowed his eyes in thought. "I know they aren't human... but are you absolutely sure we have to kill them to deal with this?"
Jason's expression dropped instantly. "Ok, get off my rooftop."
"Jason," Dick groaned, slumping in exasperation before he blanched in exasperation. "And- and you do not own this rooftop! Fine, ok, I get it, we have to destroy them properly, I'll run sniping interference."
"Thank you," Jason ground out sarcastically, cracking his neck from side to side as he prepared to make his entrance. "Alright, let's get this done quickly, I have a stakeout at 2. And if B of any of the other caped crusaders call, lie your fuckin' ass off."
"Yeah, yeah," Dick waved him off. "Go on then, Peter Venkman, do your thing."
"I will," He snipped pettily, and Dick laughed lightly, turning his attention to the gun in his hands.
From then on, it was just... a thing. Dick was good at helping; didn't overstep Jason's boundaries, listened to his warnings about whatever they were up against, and was surprisingly good at holding his own. Obviously he wasn't a seasoned hunter like Jason, but Dick held the same upbringing as he did; back in the golden era of Gotham where rogue attacks were just as likely to include dinosaur rampages as they were guns. Dick, like Jason, held memories of being right at the centre of that magical existence where learning about occult magic was just as important as learning algebra, and that nostalgic instinct towards dealing with the unexplainable really did come in handy when it came to finding out about the secret supernatural underground of Gotham that had been rapidly developing over the past year or so.
He got used to working with Dick, with having a partner... with having a brother.
Not that he wasn't still super fucking annoying, but Jason digressed.
"So do you have like, a kinship with these sorts of jobs or what?"
"Swear to god, Dick, you make that joke one more time and I'm locking you in a house with a poltergeist."
"Nooo, littlewing-!" Dick whined through a chuckle. "You know those things creep me out!"
"I wasn't ever even a ghost," Jason huffed on into his comm, picking his way through the wooded area he was searching, fire from his blade lighting the way like a torch. He'd come across a rumour that there was a particularly malevolent spirit haunting one of the wooded areas up near Bristol, so he and Dick had bunked off on one of Bruce's stakeouts to come and check it out. Jason had some of his subordinates cover their watch post, so he was 95% sure their absence wouldn't be noticed. He stepped over a tree root. "I mean I think I was in heaven for a bit, but when I came back I was straight into the coffin, there was no roaming around beforehand."
Dick paused suddenly, audible in the way that the soft crunching of his feet in the leaves ceased.
"Wait. What do you mean coffin? Did Talia take the pit to you or something? I didn't think they could be moved." As Dick spoke in his ear, Jason suddenly felt something shift in the air around him, temperature dropping abruptly as he felt that internal 'evil' sense spike. Despite the calm weather of the night, the branches of the trees around him started to sway in a sudden frigid breeze, and although it couldn't go out, the All-Blade's flame flickered about wildly.
"I wasn't resurrected in the pit," Jason mumbled absently, head turning around slowly so he could examine his surroundings, warily stepping around in a circle. "We couldn't figure out what brought me back, I just woke up and had to dig my way up... fuckin' splinters were a nightmare..."
Still too busy trying to make sure he wasn't caught off guard by the spirit clearly controlling the hotspot he was standing in, he didn't quite catch on to the way Dick's breath hitched, not paying attention to his sudden, "WHAT?!" Followed by an abrupt gasp. He did however, catch onto the urgency in his tone when he then proceeded to whisper in a panicked voice, "Ok, okokok we are so talking about that later, but for now, Jay, I think I've found our ghost... there's definitely something here."
That did give Jason reason to pause slightly, readjusting his grip on one of the blades as the other hand reached into his back pocket for a bag of salt he kept on him for emergencies. Keeping his eyes on the burned, mauled figure flickering in and out of existence a few feet away from him, staring at him emptily from the foot of a large tree, he pointed out. "Goldie, I don't know what you have over there, but it can't be the ghost."
"Dude, I'm telling you, it's definitely-" Dick choked suddenly, voice somewhat small when he muttered under his breath, "Ohhhh, shit."
"D," Jason reaffirmed softly. "You ain't lookin' at a ghost; I am. What the fuck are you looking at?"
"Jason," Dick whimpered slightly. "I think- I think I'm looking at a hellhound."
Jason's eyes widened, and suddenly the ghost wasn't the biggest problem to deal with for the night. "Oh you have GOT to be FUCKING KIDDING-"
Startled by the loud noise, the spirit jumped to attention, and electricity started crackling through the woods. Distantly Jason registered the realisation that this spirit was one of the rare ones with electrokinetic abilities just as he heard another yelp from Dick's end of the line, followed by a loud snarling noise. On his end Jason jerked back, absently tossing the bag of salt in the direction of the ghost before turning and running through the trees, digging out his phone to track Dick's location.
"Run towards me now," He demanded breathlessly, darting around roots and leaves. "We're swapping jobs, you take the ghost and I take the dog, you have to lead it towards me."
"Do you know how fast these things are?!" Dick panted frantically, though he could hear through the comms that he was obeying directions. Jason pressed his legs to go faster, thanking the lord that they weren't too far from each other and that the pit had enhanced his stamina ever-so-slightly.
"Well fuckin' push it then, circus boy!"
"I'M TRYING, JASON." There was another deep bark and yelp, and then Jason had to duck as electricity crackled through the branches above his head, fire sparking up in the leaves as he ran.
"Ok hold on, I can see your torch," He squinted, zeroing in on the pinprick of light getting closer to him. "I'd get some salt ready by the way, this bitch is angry."
"Oh, great, what a wonderful welcome you're bringing me," Dick pointed out, gasping. Jason snorted despite himself, skidding under a particularly low-positioned branch.
"Not much better than the thing you're bringin' home t' me!"
They got closer together until Jason could actually see Dick's figure, dressed in the slightly muddy button-up he'd stolen from Jason's apartment earlier that day. They never really bothered with bat-costumes for these sorts of jobs, finding their own clothes comfier and easier to fly under the radar with. He was starting to regret letting Dick borrow his stuff so much now though, what with the clear rip in the bottom of the shirt, clearly originating from a moment where the hound had gotten close enough to nip at the hem. That was one of his favourite fucking shirts.
Dick made a choked noise of relief upon spotting him, and then his eyes roamed to behind Jason and his face dropped, obviously spotting his pursuer. Similarly, Jason looked behind Dick to see a monstrous canine-creature almost as tall as he was bounding behind Dick, teeth bared.
Hellhounds were fast, inhumanely fast. The fact that Dick had survived this far could only be down to the fact that this one wanted to play with its prey before eating it. Jason was going to make sure it regretted that decision.
The two brothers ran past each other, Dick focusing in seriously on the spirit and reaching for his own store of salt, while Jason readied the All-Blades and moved to the side slightly, kicking one foot up and off of a nearby tree to get airborne as he and the beast collided. Behind him, he heard another crackle of electricity, and Dick swore as they both impacted with their new targets.
"IhateghostsIhateghostsIhateghosts-" He heard the ramble in his ear repeatedly as he ducked under a swipe from the hound's claws, slicing at the thing's leg to get its attention before he quickly retreated backwards in the opposite direction of where Dick was ducking behind trees, trying to get a shot at the malevolent spirit. He knew usually hellhounds were dedicated creatures in that once they decided on a target they wouldn't switch focus, but luckily that focus tended to be skewed when confronted with a more life-threatening opponent, and if there was one piece of knowledge that Jason had picked up on after he'd started working these jobs, it was that there was something about the inherent righteousness of the All-Blades that all 'evil' could sense, instinctively knowing that if they wanted to survive, then getting rid of Jason and his weapon was the highest priority. He basically had a constant target on his back for all evil to view him as a threat, which was oh so fun. It rounded on him, ignoring Dick and starting to walk towards him threateningly. Jason flicked his wrists experimentally, duelling the blades and tilting his chin up in challenge.
"Here, pussy pussy pussy~" He jeered, taking another few steps back. The beast growled, head poised low to attack, studying him carefully.
"Wrong animal, Jay," He heard in his ear, strained.
"Focus on your own issue," He snapped back.
"What do you think I'm trying to-" They both went silent as a familiar ping sounded in their ears, their so-called 'private line' being infiltrated by a voice that neither wanted to hear at that moment.
"Nightwing, Red Hood," Bruce barked stoically. "Status on the stakeout?"
They were both silent for a second, and although they'd retreated far enough away from each other that they couldn't see each other, Jason knew that were they together at that time they would be exchanging wide-eyed glances, as if to see which of them would dare to respond first.
Dick broke before Jason did. "Hey, B, it's going great! Nothing to report so far!"
The spirit apparently decided to take that wonderful moment to let out another electrical charge, and Jason winced as the noise of static flooded the comms for a moment, followed by Dick's immediate stifled yelp and a gasp.
"What was that?" Bruce demanded.
"Electricity from his escrima sticks," Jason instantly explained falsly. "We're, uh, doing a challenge we found on the internet and taking in turns licking the volt." The hellhound lunged, and he darted back to spin around a tree, putting the trunk in between them to buy more time. "Wing's being a pussy about it."
"...I see." Bruce responded slowly, slightly like he was confused and slightly like he was disappointed in how they'd turned out as adults. Dick made a wounded noise, affronted.
"You're the one that told me to lick it, littlewing." He snapped pointedly. Bruce made another confused noise, and Jason realised rapidly that the hound was definitely going to attack soon, readying his sword before reaching up to steady a hand at his earpiece.
"Yeah, well, at least I didn't call over the fucking dog," He snapped. "B, I think I see somebody approaching our watch point, we gotta go. Right Dick?"
"R-right!" Dick sputtered. "Bye B, we'll update you later!"
"Wait," Bruce asked, suspicious. "What are you two-" Jason heard the noise of Dick disconnecting his comm, and he followed suit right as the hellhound lunged again. This time however, Jason was ready, and he ducked under its jaws, swiping upwards as he did so to cut clean-off one of the beast's paws. It howled in agony, and he rolled to the side before swiping the fire across its fur, singing and setting alight to the animal. Scrambling back, he gritted his teeth as it desperately turned on him, attacking now in a pained stupor without any real strategy. He barely dodged another snap of teeth, turning to run out of range as fire consumed its flesh. A horrific way to go, sure, but it was a hellhound.
He ran through the forest, noting the way the wind picked up as he got closer to Dick's location, and he realised with concern that the spirit was still active in the fight. He found the pair in a small clearing in the woods, the spirit floating just over the water of a small stream while Dick panted a few feet away, a burn mark scorching his cheek. Jason crashed through into the clearing, and he ducked down and to the side as the hellhound bounded after him, smashing into the stream and knocking right through the vengeful spirit as it went.
"JESUS," Dick yelled, stumbling backwards as a mass of screaming and steam filled the area. Too much damage had been done to the hound for the stream to help it, and Jason sighed in relief as the thing seemed to break down in on itself, decaying from the inside out as its body collapsed inwards. The spirit left the stream in anger, moving towards Dick, and Jason watched his eyes widen as he quickly circled the thing, bringing out an iron batarang to toss and keep it back.
"Where's your fucking salt?!" Jason yelled incredulously. Dick's head whipped around, eyes narrowed, and he gestured at the spirit.
"On the fucking floor?! Where's yours, I don't have enough to close the circle!"
"Shit," Jason spat, remembering how he'd tossed it back at the beginning of the fight. "Ok, plan B, burning."
"Why is burning always plan B," Dick complained, jumping back until they were side to side, watching the angry spirit as lightning crackled above. "Always burn them immediately, for fuck's sake!"
"Do you wanna do this by yourself?!" Jason threatened, turning to look at him. Dick turned to look back at him and opened his mouth to respond, when they both ducked instinctively as another bolt of electricity shot right where their heads had been. They yelped, and before Jason could do anything else another bolt twisted through the air, catching Dick in the shoulder and sending him careening through the air, spinning until he splashed into the water of the stream. Jason's head whipped back towards the spirit as it held up its arms, taking a step towards him, and spotting the almost complete salt circle that Dick had managed to herd the thing into, Jason quickly ran forward, brandishing the All-Blades in front to force it back until it not only entered the semi-circle again, but actively had to cross over the salt to avoid the flame. It screamed in pain, and he further pressed the fire into the being's space as the mix of fiery salt did its job of hurting it beyond repair. Jason closed his eyes against the bright glare, gritting his teeth and waiting for the desperate wails to stop.
Finally, things died down. Tentatively, he opened his eyes a crack, finding himself without the blades once more, breathing heavily on his hands and knees over a small pile of salty, burnt ashes. The spirit and the hound were gone, and the sense of evil dissipated in Jason's chest as he searched his surroundings.
Well shit, that was that then.
Across the clearing, he blinked his eyes blearily as Dick miserably picked himself up and out of the stream, shirt so burnt it was barely clinging to him and allowing the multiple burn marks he'd received during the fight to be revealed in the night air. He was soaked in water, hair plastered to his forehead, and he stretched his back out painfully as he stumbled out of the shallow pebbled stream. He made his way up onto the grass, looking down at himself before panting over in Jason's direction. His face was devastated.
"I lost my shoe in the stream," He admitted, forlorn. Jason squinted over at him incredulously, picking himself up slightly to sit on the back of his knees, wiping dirt from his face.
"Dick," He exasperated breathlessly, "Just shut the fuck up."
"There's so many different types of ghosts," Dick complained, two weeks later, laying obnoxiously across Jason's couch. "How in the ever-loving fuck am I supposed to know all of this. How do you remember all of this?!" He was flipping through one of Jason's old notebooks, the ones where he tended to scrawl down all information pertaining to the supernatural that he gleaned during his second secret illegal hobby's adventures.
"I dunno, when you're about to die things just stick in your head, I guess."
"But not all ghosts are evil, right?" Dick checked, flipping a page. Jason hummed, using his spatula to scrape at the omelette he was making in the kitchen.
"No, but the longer a ghost is a ghost, the more unstable it becomes. So all of them pretty much eventually go insane. If one's stuck around because of some kind of simple unfinished business though, you can sometimes just help it move on."
"Have you ever done that?" Dick asked curiously. He hummed.
"Coupla' times. There was a sweet old lady haunting a place a few blocks down from here who wanted me to track down photos of her newborn great grandson. She was pretty chill."
Dick made a noise of acknowledgement, letting his head thump back down against the couch arm. "It must be nice to like... be able to sense that stuff. Like the nice ones? You can actually talk with? It would be cool to know there was a chance to talk to the loved ones that you've lost. Has there ever been anybody you knew? What about your mom?"
Jason made a face, looking over at him sceptically. "The woman died during a hedonistic bender on the floor of our bathroom, the only unfinished business she had was the rest of the liquid inside her last needle."
"I don't mean Catherine," Dick rolled his eyes, shifting up onto his elbows. "Your real mother. Bruce said the Joker killed her right after she was reunited with you, right? Doesn't 'not being able to save her son' count as unfinished business?"
Here Jason paused, blinking rapidly at his omelette before incredulously turning to stare at Dick. "What? Save!?"
Dick's brow furrowed, tone going hesitant. "Well... yeah, wasn't she-?"
"Holy shit," Jason observed in awe. "You morons didn't know anything about that whole situation, did you?"
"What are you talking about?"
Jason snorted in disbelief, turning back to take the pan off the hob before his lunch could burn. "Idiots. Did you think Joker just fuckin'- happened to stumble across me in Ethiopia? Sheila passed me over to him like a fuckin' football. That bitch definitely finished her business with me; fucker lit up a cigarette and watched as he beat me n' everything."
He continued to scrape his omelette onto a plate, chuckling to himself as he added some salad and grabbed the ketchup from his ratty old fridge, only noticing the silence when he finally looked up and noticed the horror-stricken look on Dick's face, staring at him, frozen.
"What?!" He whimpered eventually. "We thought- we thought she'd tried to save you!"
Narrowing his eyes, Jason shook his head slowly. "...No?" He dropped his arms in realisation, face going slack. "Was that why Bruce buried me next to her? I thought he was just being an ass- or being space conscious or some shit. Some kind of OCD compulsion, all the biological Haywoods in a line or something," He shrugged, moving over to the kitchen island and sitting on a stool. Dick's eyes tracked him, face growing paler somehow.
"Oh my god, she sold you out and then you woke up in the grave next to her." He realised faintly. "Oh my god, littlewing I'm so- I'm so-" Jason made a disgusted face at him, uncomfortable with the emotion. Luckily, they were cut off from their little conversation of revelations as the window in the living area slid open, and out of nowhere Damian clambered into his apartment, dressed in his school uniform. Jason's eyes glanced at his watch. 1:12pm.
"Are you skipping school again?" He asked casually.
"Hello to you too, Todd." Damian's eyes scanned over the apartment, narrowing at Dick's clearly distressed state. "What did you do to Grayson?"
"Told him his ass was flat." He responded instantly, in the midst of scooping a forkful of food into his mouth. Damian eyed the meal with interest before wandering over to his fridge, opening it as if he owned the place. Freeloader.
"His ego is too big for him to ever believe that," He responded casually, and despite himself Dick made a slightly offended noise.
Jason shot Dick an unimpressed look before gesturing pointedly to the notebooks on the coffee table, motioning for him to hide them. He scrambled to do so as Jason revealed lamely, "'Pparently they didn't know Sheila was a bitch, or that the pit wasn't what resurrected me. Dickface's being weird about it."
Damian looked over, humming in disinterest as he pulled out a container of leftovers, some kind of rice and vegetable meal from a few days ago, and he held it up for Jason to see as a silent request for conformation that it was vegetarian, shutting the fridge in satisfaction when he gave the go-ahead. "I thought the circumstances around your death and resurrection were common knowledge?" He wondered casually, next going to pilfer a fork. Jason shrugged, and having successfully hidden all evidence of supernatural endeavours, Dick looked between them incredulously.
"How does he-" He abruptly held up a hand shaking his head. "Never mind, league stuff, stupid question. Does he come here often?!" He jabbed a finger in Damian's direction, raising his eyebrows at Jason. "You've been advocating for him skipping school?"
"Sometimes we hang out and he steals my food," Jason shrugged again, Damian nodding along. Dick threw his hands wide in disbelief, eyes widening.
"You'll hang out with him and not me?!"
"Drake imposes himself upon us too, sometimes." Damian revealed despite Jason's cut-throat gesture, making it worse. "And I thought you two did hang out, regardless. It's been freaking father out for the past month."
Both of them paused at that, heads swivelling in the youngest's direction. "What do you mean, it's been freaking him out?" Jason demanded, curious. Damian raised an eyebrow.
"He thinks you two are planning some kind of uprising against him. Drake overheard him talking to Pennyworth about how you never got along even back when you were younger unless it was to team up against him, so your recent liaisons must mean trouble."
Slowly, Dick and Jason made eye contact across the room. Dick abruptly made a conceding face, giving a half-shrug. "It's not a bad theory." He pointed out.
"Why have you been spending so much time together?" Damian pushed, narrowing his eyes and glancing between the two. "Akhi always claimed you were insufferable to spend more than five minutes around at a time; why the sudden switch up?"
Jason fake-winced at the offended glare Dick shot him, mumbling, "Well you were," Before waving him off quickly, turning to Damian. "And mind your business, you little shit. This is big brother business, you don't need to know everything I get up to."
Damian scowled at him. "Fine. See if I give you any more interesting information; you will be sorely disappointed."
"Replacement worships the ground I walk on," Jason crooned smugly, to Damian's increasing distaste. "I don't need you, he'll tell me anything I want to know 'bout the goings on of that manor."
"Am I the only brother you weren't hanging out with?!" Dick loudly demanded, still looking very offended. "And now the only reason you do is because I help you with the-" He cut himself off at Jason's intense glare, Damian perking up in interest.
"Help with what?" He asked instantly. Dick left his mouth open for a moment, thinking.
"Help with the-" He repeated desperately, scrambling. "Help with... cleaning...?"He tried, closing one eye hesitantly.
Damian watched him blankly. "That's complete bullshit, isn't it Grayson?"
Dick threw his hands up in the air as Jason cackled, falling back and collapsing onto the couch with a huff. "Nobody fuckin' appreciates me in this family-!"
To be honest, with the amount Red Hood had been teaming up with the rest of the bats lately, it was no wonder that eventually his and Dick's little side-job ended up crossing streams with their main side-job. Or for Jason his actual job-job, because god knew being a crime lord was enough of a workload that he had no interest in adding a legal occupation to the roster as well.
He just hadn't expected the entire bat-brigade to show up in the middle of a fucking hunt.
"What- Hood?" Tim lowered his bo-staff in surprise after bursting in through the broken window of the old house that a very panicked Jason was standing in the kitchen of, before scanning the distinctly not Red Hood outfit he was wearing. "Hold on, Jason, what are you doing here?!"
"Me?!" Jason screeched. "The fuck are you doing here? You can't be here!" He panicked, well aware of the dangers of the building they were in. Shit, if Dick would just hurry up and find the fucking conduit before that bitch-ass ghost decided to-
"Why not?" Tim demanded. "A lead to the drug trafficking case I'm on led us here, what about you?"
Jason sputtered, before stilling. "What do you mean we?"
"Red Hood, explain yourself." Bruce asked in answer, as he and Damian made themselves known. "You said you would be out of the city this weekend, hence Robin and I are helping Red Robin tonight instead. Why were you dishonest?"
Jason snapped his head over to look at them, instinctively opening his mouth to answer something antagonistic, but unfortunately he was yet again interrupted by the rushing of heavy footfalls coming from the ceiling above, getting louder as they started descending down the stairs, and they could hear Dick's voice clearly from the hall as he frantically travelled through the house.
"IFOUNDITIFOUNDITIFOUNDIT JASON I FOUND- oh uh-oh." The desperate yells instantly cut off into a blank tone as he burst into the kitchen, a ceramic music box cradled in both of his hands, spotting their guests and freezing in his tracks, absent realisation of badness fluttering across his face. The other three present just looked even more confused by his presence.
"You said you were going to be in Italy," Tim said accusingly, jabbing his staff at Jason, then turning to do the same at Dick. "And you said you couldn't leave Bludhaven for the next week!"
"...My schedule cleared up?" Dick tried. "What are you guys doing here?"
"W-" Tim sputtered indignantly, head snapping to Bruce as if asking for backup. "We're working my case! We had a lead that drug trafficking victims were being taken to this house and never coming back, so we're investigating. Something that Jason was supposed to do with me, but he bailed." He pointed out bitterly, but Jason and Dick didn't care. Looking confused, Dick turned to Jason, music box still cupped in his hands.
"That doesn't make any sense, this place is abandoned because of the ghost, why would drug trafficking victims be over here?"
Jason shook his head, biting his lip impatiently. "They fucking wouldn't, whatever tip they have is wrong."
"...Ghost?" Damian caught on, tilting his head. Dick waved him off, walking over to Jason.
"But if the victims aren't coming back, couldn't they be sacrifices? Like that cult that was sure the little girl-ghost they'd found was a demigod to worship?"
Jason snatched the music box from him absently, smashing it on the ground. Everybody but him and Dick flinched at the screeching sound that instantly emitted from somewhere upstairs, holding up their weapons as the two continued to talk.
"This spirit wasn't insane yet, it wasn't even mad, it just wanted to be allowed to move on. It would have told us if it was getting weird drug sacrifices from some kind of cult." Jason turned to Tim. "What exactly was the tip you got? Who directed you here?" He demanded. Tim narrowed his eyes, confused.
"One of my snitches told me he'd heard of multiple sightings of people matching our common victim description being escorted into this house by people in masks and never coming out." He answered. "Why- what the hell are you two on about?!"
Jason ignored him, nodding at Dick. "So they're feeding something, but not the spirit. Something else has been using this house."
Dick's eyes widened, catching on to his point. He snapped his fingers in excitement. "The same thing that killed the spirit in the attic, which is why she didn't remember how she died- holy shit-!"
"Yes," Jason emphasised pointedly, "Which means something worse than a potentially evil spirit is using this house as a base and has other people helping it hunt, which means we need to get out of here and come back later."
Dick's enthusiasm dropped slightly. "Right. Shit. Ok let's go."
They turned to the other three, who were still looking at the two like they were insane, and Dick stepped forward only to halt when Jason abruptly gripped him by the sleeve. He looked back in question, only to falter when he noticed the whiteness painting his younger brother's face.
Jason breathed slowly, recognising, with an agonising defeat, the insanely large spike of energy within his chest, signifying immense danger as he recognised the internal energy the All-Blades granted him became available to him. There was only one time the danger sense had come on that quickly, and that strongly, and he'd been chasing the remnants of the creature responsible since Dick had first gotten involved in this part of his life.
God, why the fuck did Jason specifically have to suffer? What had he done wrong? Why was all of this down to him? It was such bullshit.
"I'm gonna need you to get the other chucklefucks and get away from here as fast as possible," He ordered evenly, too busy trying to use his internal sense to at least pin-point the direction that the evil was in. "Because I think the fucking wendigo is here."
Dick stilled. "The-" He did a doubletake. "You're still hunting that thing?! Why haven't you killed it yet?"
"IT'S FAST." Jason snapped defensively. "Now go!"
"What is going on?" Bruce commanded they answer, brows furrowing in that concerned way that happened every time he figured out that, once again, his kids had been up to some stupid shit behind his back. Jason didn't have time to deal with him. "What's here? What's the danger? Whatever it is, we'll tackle it together."
"Ohohoho," Dick laughed, quickly, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows dramatically. "No the fuck we wont! Trust me B, this is a whole other ballpark; Jason's the chosen one for this stuff, we need to leave."
"What is happening?" Damian asked warily, hand going to his katana. Jason whirled around suddenly, feeling a pull towards the stairs leading to the basement.
"Dick." He snapped.
"Ok!" Dick yelled back indignantly, trying to usher the rest of the family members present towards the way they came in. "Guys, please, I'll explain later, can we just leave him to-"
"FUCK-" Something burst up the basement stairs, appearing in the entrance of the kitchen in the blink of an eye, and just as soon as it appeared Jason lunged forward, something bright and fiery and steel appearing in his hands as he tackled whatever the thing was right down the way it had come up from. They both disappeared, a series of crashes and snarls ascending up from the basement. Dick winced.
They watched the space Jason had just been standing in for a moment, frozen in place by shock.
"What the fuck was-"
"OK LETS GO NOW PLEASE-"
Dick kicked Bruce with full force in the chest, shoving him out the window and grabbing his other two younger brothers by their sleeves, tipping out himself without hesitation.
"Dick." Bruce demanded, eyeing furiously the way his eldest son was physically blocking his path back towards the house. "What on earth are you doing? What is Jason fighting?"
They heard a crash from the house, followed by a screech, further followed by a very Jason-like yell of 'SHUT THE GODDAMN FUCK UP!'
Dick bit his lip, looking in the direction of the house before turning back to his father. "...Nothing." He tried, pensively. Bruce glared at him.
Damian jutted out his chin. "You said wendigo in there, Isn't that a type of cannibal from demonistic folklore?"
"...Sorry, what now?" Tim checked, cocking an eyebrow. There was another screech from inside the house. Dick looked between them desperately. He whined.
"Dick," Bruce demanded gravely, commanding his attention. "Be honest with me. What is going on?"
"OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD CAN YOU JUST-" Jason's faint yell was cut off by an absurdly loud squeal of pain, inhuman in nature. "JESUS FUCK."
Dick turned back to face Bruce. "Jason has magic fire swords." He blurted.
Bruce blinked.
"I have magic fire swords." Jason dutifully backed up, after he crawled out of the house and made his way over to the family with torn up clothes, a blood-smudged cheek, and his hands blackened where it looked like he'd dipped them in ashes. The wendigo was, thankfully, dead. Jason could finally go home and take a fucking nap, and this realisation elated him, enough that he couldn't find it within himself to give a fuck about his idiot family members finding out about his new side-gig, too focused on what the quickest route home was from the house they were currently grouped up outside of. And also he needed to make a note to look into whatever idiot cult was fucking feeding the thing like a bunch of people after he woke up.
"What magic fire swords?" Tim exclaimed in disbelief. Jason tilted his head.
"Well I can't show you them now," He said, as if it were obvious. "I already got rid of the evil- wait." He squinted, leaning in to look at Bruce's face before making a concentrated expression, eyes thinning as he made a sort of fist shape with his hands. After a moment of baffled silence, he relaxed, leaning back and shoving his arms into the front pocket of his hoodie. "Nope, you don't count. Can't show you."
"Jason, I need you to explain." Bruce ground out, apparently growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of information. Honestly the best part of Jason's day so far.
"Is this a Ducra thing?" Damian suddenly asked dryly, looking unimpressed. Jason tapped the side of his nose, winking at the kid, and he rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."
"A what thing-?" Bruce asked, furrowing his brow and looking down at his youngest. Damian shrugged, uncaring, and Dick stared at him incredulously, holding up a hand and glaring at Jason.
"Why does he know everything-?"
"Shh," Jason waved him off, before looking at Bruce pointedly. "So can I go now?"
Bruce glared at him. "No."
"Startin' to sound more and more like true evil, Bruce."
"Jason."
God, he couldn't wait to have that nap.