Chapter Text
When anybody thinks of Gotham they often think of the shadows in it. They think about the overhanging gargoyles that loom ominously overhead and the dark alleyways whose depths held anything from criminals to civilians just down on their luck. And in those dark corners, they oftentimes swear to have seen a bat.
Everybody in Gotham has their own story. A shadow, a glint of metal or a flash of blue, red, green or yellow, hell maybe even purple if you’re lucky! If you’re a well respected citizen of Gotham you’ve at least once claimed to have seen a bat. If you’re a stupid one, your claim has more merit than those who saw a trash bag and cried “BATMAN!”
The bats and the birds have always been revered as cryptids. Gothamites have started up betting pools to determine just what kind of supernatural creatures the bats and birds are. Because surely a regular human like them wouldn’t be insane enough to actually go out there and fight common thugs, especially not in a fucking furry suit, right? Gotham’s vigilantes must be involved in the world of magic somehow.
To the bats and birds this notion is hilarious. Especially Gotham’s leading theory has the eldest sons cracking up whenever they hear it:
The bats and the Birds are Vampires.
Any old Metropolis citizen might scoff and protest. “Vampires aren’t real!” they’d say. But Gothamites aren’t stupid. They know that stranger things exist (take a look at metropolis and their blue boy scout for heavens sake!) Their vigilantes laugh from the rooves, amused as they too whisper among themselves “vampires? They don’t exist,”
But vampires are real and the bats are about to find out about them and all the trouble they bring.
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It’s fucking cold outside. Though Jason shouldn't have expected anything less should he? It’s Gotham. Still he hadn’t necessarily felt like freezing his balls off at 11 pm today. Usually he’d be jumping at the chance to patrol but he’d been invited to movie night at the manor, so the call from one of his lieutenants to inform him of a ‘commotion’ , whatever the fuck that means, had really thrown a wrench in his plans.
Luckily whatever it was that had caught Bill’s attention wasn’t too far from his own safehouse so Jason had slipped out, determined to deal with it quickly and be changed and at the manor in half an hour at most. So here he was freezing his balls off, covered in blood (don’t worry it’s not his own) and bruises whilst trying to figure out what the fuck these bozo’s were doing in an abandoned warehouse. It was obvious they were shipping something but none of the crates would budge and Jason was hesitant to shoot the krates all around him in case they had explosives in them or something.
He’s about to just call it in, too fucking tired to deal with this bullshit today, when he hears shuffling outside. Quickly he jumps up on the crate, launching himself into the catwalks hanging overhead and sneaking back out onto the fire escape, holding in the hiss of pain as he jostles his side. Okay fuck maybe some of that blood had been his.
Below him in the alley is a group of 5 men. The stench of alcohol is so strong Jason can smell it from his position all the way above them.
“Lookit our prize boys! She’s a beaut ain’t she?” One of the men crows. Jason peers closer and sees that between the group of men, all wearing the same yellow bandana around their arm, is a young girl. The girl looks terrified, shaking in the middle of their little circle.
“Let me go!” she screams, Her voice is a powerful thing. Jason grits his teeth.
“Aw don' worry sweetheart! You just can’t wait huh?” the man who Jason clocks as the leader says. He grabs her long brown hair and yanks. Jason expects her to go down but the girl is stronger than he gave her credit for, crying out but stubbornly staying on her feet.
“On yer knees you bitch!” the leader screams, holding her by her hair. The girl spits straight into the man’s face who drops her in outrage. The man backs up to whip the spit off his face and Jason's’ whole body tenses up as he sees the glint of metal.
He jumps before he can think. Body sailing down and landing just as-
BANG!
Jason kicks teh asshole in the nuts, the gun flying from the leader’s hands. “It’s the hood!” one of the men cries. They immediately start to scatter like mice. Jason takes out his pistol, clocking the two closest men with the butt of it against their temples then aiming and shooting out the other 2’s kneecaps before they can even turn the corner of the alley. The leader attempts to run as well and Jason takes satisfaction in shooting him straight in the dick.
Fight over, Jason turns to focus on the girl he saved. She’s still a shaking mess and Jason takes a step closer to start reassuring her when his vision suddenly swims.
Right… He’d been shot.
His hand comes down on his abdomen, barm blood soaking into his gloves instantly. That’s more blood that he would like, okay, okay this is fine. He’s done this before.
“-kay?” his head shoots up and he sees the girl, way closer than she had been before. Her brow is furrowed and Jason assumes she asked him something. He grunts, hoping that was enough of an answer and reaches into his belt to grab his grappling hook. Okay so he gets out of here, calls dick, has Alfred patch him up and then gets chewed out by both of them. That’s not that bad. At least Bruce is off-world, he always freaked out for some reason when Jason showed up in the cave covered in blood.
He unhooks his grapple but as he turns to shoot it he loses his balance. His vision fades around the edges. Fuck.
Everything goes black.