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Some time, a truncated explanation, and the furious depletion of his cup-o-noodles supply later, and Jason found himself staring at the teen he hauled onto his couch in one of his several safe houses like he's grown another head.
"...concentrated ectoplasm?"
The kid, Danny , nodded hard enough to make Jason worry his head might snap off his thin body. "It's the only thing that makes sense! It's some kind of - of runoff that spilled out of the Ghost Zone -"
"The Zone... where the ghosts go ." Jason had every right to be done with this, though he felt some thrill of satisfaction at the frustrated look the twiggy teen fired back at him. Very reminiscent of whenever he and Tim would get in a tiff...though if this kid was in fact a ghost, or “part ghost”, then Jason figured he couldn't hang this one on the coat rack like with the younger Wayne sibling.
Probably would phase right through or someshit.
"Yes!" Thin fingers spread empathetically while bright blue eyes bore holes into the vigilante's head. "I - look, I don't know get happened with your whole story...honestly I thought my situation was kind of one in a million - well, TWO in a million -"
Actually, thinking of Tim put another thought in Jason's head. With a quick flick to the small device on his belt, he sent out a signal to the secure line the family would use when in communication. Nothing flashy, just a repeating message they worked out that meant to say " Hey, pay attention. Something's going down and I need eyes on my back ."
Not a second later did he get a responding -ping- that told him he did, in fact, receive those eyes, and it truly was a testament to how much he's come to trust the little shit when he realized it was Tim in his ear.
The voice was just a quiet "Here" in the earpeace, something he had yet to remove for safety sake. Less due to a belief that the kid on his couch could be a problem and more just general paranoia as a result of getting caught off guard that one time and getting exploded to death for it.
Kind of leaves an impression on a guy.
" - and I was electrocuted, like, a LOT and when I came to - I had these ghost powers! Well, technically I'm half ghost, not just a human with ghost powers, so my biology's been all over the place since it happened, but I didn't even think this could happen any other way until I started hearing about some rogue portals, and then Clockwork told me -"
A few quick taps on another button on his comm, the special family code for " you getting this? "
What he wasn't expecting back was "...that might explain some of the worrying things I've been seeing in your blood samples lately..."
And here he had thought he had been pretty thorough in getting the point across to Timbert to not take his stuff .
Jason was pretty sure his fucking blood sat comfortably under the umbrella of His Stuff.
"So my friend tracked the weird reading we've been getting and it took me here, and going off of the stories I've been hearing and all the weird things about this town -"
Hang on a goddamn second.
" Gotham's weird?" Jason couldn't help himself, doing nothing to hold back a scoff and a smirk. "Last time I checked, Amity's ground zero for Dawn of the Dead becoming an accidental documentary."
For his snark, Jason was met back with a scoff returned by the teen, who rolled his eyes. "Ectoplasm doesn't revive bodies, it just gives souls a way to manifest physically."
"...and revived my body."
" Would you take this seriously!? " The teen huffed, voice threatening to crack as he jumped off the couch finally and started to pace. "Do you know how many state lines I jumped to see you? Do YOU know what's been going on with your body since you came in contact with all that ectoplasm? Don't you have any questions?!"
Well yes, in fact, Jason did have some questions, though he had to curb his typical knee-jerk desire to start most of them with "motherfucker," if only because of the combination of the kid's age and somewhat resemblance to Tim.
He'd be lying if he hadn't noticed anything weird since escaping from Talia, heading back to Gotham, and starting his whole "fuck you dad, I'm going to start my own theme park" plan, in what he coud now only consider a delayed case of teenage rebellion.
He even bought a motorbike and leather jacket and everything.
But looking back on his one-man crusade against crime and drug-smuggling, Jason had to admit that he's been purposely brushing off some events that seemed just a little too lucky . Things like bullets seemingly missing him despite the shooter appearing in point-blank range. Or getting the drop on criminals like his old man, despite wearing a bright red helmet and decked out in enough gear to choke GI Joe.
And then there were the odd whisps he had been seeing lately out of the corner of his vision. Whisps that he first chalked up to unusually aggressive floaters, only for them to appear more and more clear over time, and showing up at night, and also looking like they had faces and shit.
And let's not forget the voices.
So...it's possible the kid was a little onto something.
"...Jason, were you aware of just how MUCH ectoplasm is in your bloodstream?" Came Tim's voice in his ear, no doubt face-deep into a microscope as he spoke.
Okay, maybe the kid was a LOT onto something.
That didn't mean he was going to be super stoked about it. His body had already gone through enough shit, what with coming back from the dead five years after he was planted in the ground. There were still the autopsy scars on his chest, courtesy of Talia herself before getting the bright idea of dunking him like an overgrown teabag. His eyes were more green than blue these days and he was pretty sure that was never going away.
So he felt he was allowed to process this as he saw fit.
"Fuck this."
" Jason " Tim's voice warned, like he had a goddamn leg to stand on.
"What? W-wait, where are you going?" his guest stammered.
"Out," was all Jason was willing to give as he stood up and slid on his helmet. Standing watch over the kid ate most of his morning and he had some places to hit for various jobs and interceptions later today. He needed to get out, to do something and have his body work the way he expected it to.
NOT have some kid that even little Dami could easily piledrive suddenly barge in and tell Red Hood who or what he's supposed to be.
"Look," though he had to give the stick some credit, he had more guts than most folks. Danny was standing in front of the door, arms spread out and face determined, all while the assassin loomed over his slight frame at almost a foot taller and nearly three times as wide. "I know this sounds crazy...not a lot of people outside of town believe me about ghosts -"
"Kid, ghosts aren't the unbelievable part." And that was true. "I've worked with Starfire, I know a crap-load of wizards, I've put bullets in things from more dimensions than just your Ghost Park."
"Ghost ZONE"
"So that's not the thing I need to get over."
"Then what is?!" The teen fired back, not backing down.
Which was fine. Jason had no issue with using his height to loom over the child. "What I'm not a fan of, right now, is someone stumbling into my backyard in the middle of a firefight, babbling something about ghosts, and then thinking he can tell me he knows more about myself than I do."
All it took was one finger to push the kid out of the way. He weighed about as much as a bunch of grapes. "I'm sorry you came all the way here for nothing, but I'm fine -"
"Jason, you're gonna want to come to The Cave." Tim's voice spoke in his ear like a sonofabitch.
"I'm FINE, and even if I did have any lingering effects from The Pits, I'll deal with it on my own time."
Now, Jason had zero doubts that Timbo had already squealed to Bruce about his concerns over Jason’s blood, which somehow was already spreading through the Bat-Grapevine because while Tim might be the smartest out of all of them, he’s somehow the shittest at keeping his mouth shut. It had the assassin already mentally preparing himself from the wave of annoying texts from everyone, including Steph probably asking him if he has “ghost AIDS.”
Then again, Jason might be acting paranoid, but look where NOT being paranoid got him.
With ghost shit in his blood, apparently.
Despite the push, Danny wasn't willing to remain budged and practically jumped in front of the door.
"You don't get it!" He implored, eyes practically sparkling. "I...it's possible it's killing you! I don't think the ectoplasm is fully activated - like, I can feel it sitting under your skin and unless a - a spark or something kicks it in, you could start feeling the effects of ecto-poisoning!"
The smaller, much smaller, teen's hands grasped at nothing while Jason stared him down, Red Hood helmet remaining blank as ever. The impassive lack of face always did a ton of work in getting people to talk when he stared them down with it on, unnerved by the lack of visible emotion.
"Kid," Jason tried to school his tone as best he could, but he could feel his little mental rope start to fray. "I've been back from my little dirt nap for a while now and I feel fine." He insisted as best he could, even as the kid's eyes shifted from ice blue to a kerry green.
Whatever. Not the weirdest shit Jason's seen.
"But - but you're not!" Danny protested, desperation coloring his body language while his eyes grew brighter and brighter. "I - it's probably because my body's so used to it, but I can feel the ectoplasm in your system!" Those same bright eyes looked up at Jason's impassive mask. "If...if you just let me activate it then maybe -"
" Kid ," Jason warned, not super keen on a ghostly teen potentially kickstarting strange components in his fucked up blood.
"What did he say? What's he doing to your blood?" Tim's voice chirped in his ear, a tinge of worry coloring his words.
Jason could feel the potential for things to spiral if he wasn't careful, feeling like he needed to watch how to approach the superpowered teen looking ready to combust in his safe house.
"Hood, what's happening over there?"
"If you have full access to your abilities, then maybe you can help me stop the spillovers in The Ghost Zone -" Danny babbled as he took a few steps towards Jason, thin hands outstretched like he was just going to summon something.
"Kid...I'm not above knocking you out." While he may have Danny beat in terms of sheer size and strength, what little Jason had seen of what the kid was capable of while a ghost had him on edge. After all, what good were tranq darts if the target could just phase through them?
"Look...just - just don't move and I think I can -"
What happened next was a veritable shitshow.
In between two different jabbering teens having two different fits in his ears, Jason trying and failing to put a leash on his growing temper over all the stuff he's been trying to avoid and/or address on his own time, and figure out the best way to dodge Danny as he attempted to close the gap between the two of them, he found it a little difficult to keep a cool head.
So while in the middle of telling both skinny-ass black haired, blue-eyed pains in his ass to calm the hell down, Jason found himself responding a second too late when he noticed Danny attempting a lunge towards him, hands out and glowing a radioactive green.
Green that looked WAY too close to the colors of The Pits for his liking.
So in his sudden rush to scuttle back and avoid said glowing green hands, Jason backed into the modest kitchen table he was previously sitting at and tripped, landing hard on his back.
"FU -"
But before he could even get the curse out, his body felt like every nerve had lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree.
On fire .
" I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! " Danny's voice somehow made its way through the haze of synapses firing off like supernovas, all while Jason could just barely hear the sound of Tim shouting in his ear.
"Hood? Hood! B, Jason's under attack! I have his coordinates!"
Unfortunately, Jason lacked the wherewithal to respond at the moment, thanks to his muscles seizing up and his breath feeling like it was trapped in his chest.
Everything felt too bright, too MUCH. Like whatever energy flooding his body was threatening to burn him to a crisp. If the glow of Danny's hands reminded him too much of The Lazarus Pits, then suddenly being overwhelmed with otherworldly energies was like reliving his resurrection all over again. He felt he was melting, dissipating across boundless energies that expanded all over the world; a thin veil of reality staring him down and welcoming him with open arms.
He was cold…so cold…
And then…he wasn’t.
And as if a stray spark had been lit in his mind, Jason found that burning ember quickly grow to a raging fucking inferno.
Because fuck being brought back to life in the most disorienting and stressful way possible, AFTER dying one of the worst possible deaths, AND THEN being reminded of his stupid resurrection by some tweaky teen with a martyr complex.
He gets enough shit from half his family, he doesn't need MORE.
So it took him a hot second to realize that his body not only was able to move again, but the reason behind that was due to his hand wrapped around one of Danny's thin arms.
His hand also glowing that otherworldly green.
"Kid," he rasped, voice somehow sounding like it was both coming out of him and the walls, the shadows, the very floorboards, like an echoing groan. "I thought I told you to BACK THE FUCK OFF!"
A surge of, of SOMETHING, flowed through him and out the grasping hand, flinging the kid off him and smacking against the opposite wall. That strange cold feeling, like his whole body was breathing differently but also like a shot of adrenaline had been pumped into his veins, persisted as he got up.
Well, less got up and more glided up.
Raspy breathing, his own and yet somehow coming from all around as well as out his mouth, was surrounding the two, all while Jason looked down at his now glowing hands.
The fact that his feet weren't touching the floor was, like, third or fourth on his list of shit to deal with.
The safehouse had somehow grown dimmer, while also cast in a green glow that flickered like an ethereal candle, and when Jason finally tore his eyes off his hands and at the kid who kickstarted all this shit, he saw Danny looking at him.
"Uh..." the kid gaped, eyes darting all over the now hovering figure as he attempted to stand up straight. "O-okay, so...not totally what I was expecting but...good news?"
Jason clenched his hands just to feel them, feel the pop of his knuckles, the cool energy wafting over each digit as he made a fist once, twice, three times.
"Oh really?" His echoing voice creeped over the entire room, practically hissing like the ancient pipes in the building.
He clenched his fists again, flaring the ghostly energy and relishing making the kid flinch.
All things considered, Jason would be lying if he said it wasn't pretty fuckin' rad.
"So...I think I activated the ectoplasm in your blood...which means you're not going to die of ecto-poisoning... hooray ."
The shift from sparking and all-too certain livewire of stress into something more like a nervous mouse cornered by a cat was certainly something to behold. With Jason now staring him down, Danny seemed a lot more aware of how maybe activating ghost powers in a brick shithouse of a man was probably not the brightest idea.
"Uh...how do you feel?"
And wasn't THAT the $10,000 dollar question?
Standing there in a safehouse, floating above the floor thanks to the intervention of a supposed half-ghost superhero who kickstarted the ghost fuel that sat inert in his blood, Jason took a few precious seconds to mull that question over. Head tilting to the side as he considered the teen before him.
All while Danny looked up at him like a puppy who got caught eating the couch cushions.
Slowly Jason took stock of his surroundings, gaze scanning the plain interior, the modest furniture, the flickering green light that seemed to cascade all over the walls, the floor and seemed to be coming from him somehow. A deep inhale and he felt like some part of him breathed with him.
Something new, something separate and yet just as much Him as everything on his body.
That feeling expanded outward, out the window, onto the streets, INTO the streets, the buildings, the sidewalks, the people...and all of it thrummed like a new chord in his internal rhythms. That feeling felt more and more real with each inhale.
"I'm fucking stellar ."
And from his spot on the floor, Jason saw Danny's face slide into relief. The once frantic vision of stress and anxiety from whatever was floating through the kid's head seemingly slipping away.
Seemingly entirely unaware of how Jason's new broadening senses, his newfound sense of "MINE" that was gradually spreading out into every surface of the area, were starting to pick up the ghostly version of an emotional splinter.
An imperfection.
An intrusion
One in the form of a fucking clown who was once again sitting pretty in his cell like he was chilling on the beach down in Club Med, waiting for his next chance to break out and ruin someone else's life again, and again, and again, and again -
A clown who sat ignorant of how his being seemed to be triggering a twitch in Jason's mind.
Soul?
Being?
Whatever.
He needed to die, was the point.
"So...ghost huh?"
He watched Danny nod as he straightened up, posture shifting into something more casual, probably since this was a subject the kid could easily talk about. "Yeah...well, half-ghost , or 'halfa' as some like to call me - uh, us." He tossed off a half-hearted shrug. "Your body's basically able to regulate ectoplasm while still being technically alive and organic. There's a lot of technical stuff to it my friends and I can go over with -"
"So I can walk through walls? Disappear? Fly?" A quick glance down answered his question about slipping the surly bonds of gravity.
"Yeah," Danny smiled back, not sensing that any words about Jason's newfound capabilities only added fuel to the fire. "You'll basically start like any new ghost, with just the typical abilities, but over time you should start to -" But that's all Jason needed.
Like a shot he flew out of the safehouse, body phasing through the wall with just a thought. He felt amazing, weightless. Unstoppable. Literally nothing could get in his path.
Which was exactly what was happening. As Jason flew, he phased through building after building like they weren't even there. It felt like a dream.
Like one of those impossible scenarios where things this great could only happen in dreams because the reality of living in Gotham made it impossible for good shit to happen to people. Jason could feel his whole body hum and crackle with energy, bubbling up in his chest and spilling out of his skin like hot wax.
And there, in no time at all, did a familiar gothic eyesore of a supposed sanitarium loom in the distance.
"Hey, woah - Woah - WOAH!"
Only for that image to be eclipsed by the new view of a ghostly white teen. The exceptionally rare thought of being happy to see Arkham Asylum was snuffed out in Jason's mind as soon as he realized there was a mid-air roadblock.
"Outta my way!" He barked, not at all hesitating to bat the kid away like an over-eager fly.
Unfortunately, Danny seemed to be able to dodge Jason's every attempt, clearly more at home in the air than the 3 minutes he spent in it.
"Where, woah - hang on!" He swerved away from another meaty swing. "Why are you - would you stop it!"
But Jason wasn't having it. Not after the way his day had been going.
Not when his prize was so close.
"Kid, move ." But the sound that came out was less his typical growl and more a warning rumble, not unlike what a hiker on a mountain would hear before being buried under feet of snow. It spoke of a threat that could easily be followed up on, something he noticed Danny pick up with how quickly the kid scooted back in the air.
"I...where are you going? I mean, the second you have your ghost side activated you take off to...where?"
Now, Jason may be a crusty bastard. A hardened criminal thanks to everything that happened to him, and while it was unclear just where it all started to go morally wrong for him (his mom taking off and leaving him to fend for himself, Bruce's shaky parenting, getting beat to shit and then exploded, being brought back to life and then beat to shit and trained by assassins, dealing with feelings of abandonment after learning about Tim's existence, dealing with feelings of being offended by Tim's very presence, deciding to run a crime ring to better control the amount of crime in Gotham rather than going to therapy, ect), but even he wasn't so jaded to admit to the child, one who WASN'T raised in the noir cesspool that is Gotham, that he was flying to Arkham so he can personally put the Joker out of everyone's misery.
Preferably by pulling his heart out of his chest cavity.
"I'm..." But he was floundering on what his cover should be. Jason's mind was still buzzing, practically humming with ghostly energies, the intoxicating feedback of whatever he was getting from the city, and the emotional overload of learning what he's capable of.
So words weren't really working for him.
"There's...there's someone -'' Who's a bastard. A bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling who doesn't give a shit about who gets caught up in his little one-sided obsession with a guy dressed like a bat and already has enough on his plate. A real sonofabitch who only sees children as opportunities to cause more chaos, and possibly as meat shields to absorb whatever is being fired his way. A man who torpedoed whatever joy Jason once got out of clowns, however long ago he found them delightful and colorful, and that wasn't even getting into the personal beef Dick had towards the asshole thanks to actually growing up in the circus.
Jason felt in his very -soul- that the world at large would be a better and brighter place if The Joker was nothing but a smear on the walls of the asylum, though mostly he just wanted to show the asshole just what being beat to a pulp felt like before phasing a hand into him and pulling out whatever he wanted.
Which was probably why, on the cusp of his revenge against a man whose presence colored so much of his identity, Jason simply looked at Danny and didn't even blink when he said. "I'm gonna find this fucking clown and twist his ass into a pretzel."
And then took off.
Of course, Danny's cries followed him as the kid was hot on his heels, but Jason was fueled by the fires of revenge on his own behalf. Now he was like something out of the fucking Revanent; angry and out for blood, only this time he wasn't just putting a bullet in some drug dealer.
This time he was wiping out that walking plague in grease paint.
He didn't know how, but Jason found himself flying faster and faster, boosted by his rage or someshit. All he knew was that feeling, that niggling splinter in his consciousness was close to being removed.
Violently.
Flying through the walls of Arkam, the hybrid wasted no time going down corridors and hallways in his search for the grinning lunatic. Twisting and pivoting in mid-air, doubling back thanks to the building's stupid Frank Lloyd Wright meets Dracula sensibilities, until finally he found it.
"Finally" Jason rumbled, sound hissing from both him and the very walls around him while the shadows seemed to twist and contort. He didn't miss how the inhabitants seemed to respond to that, his newly ghostly being aware of the scent, the sensation of fear wafting through the air.
"Woah, what is this place, a hospital? You got everyone all worked up!" Danny observed, phasing through the ceiling as he looked around, only to land his glowing green eyes on Jason. "And dude! Whatever you're doing here, go invisible! You don't want people catching you on cameras!"
But Jason wasn't about to be stopped. "Dunno...I feel like I'm gonna want to record this for posterity."
Not even letting Danny start a sentence he won't be able to finish, Jason flew towards the room holding The Joker.
Like a bullet he was there in no time, zipping through the heavy steel door effortlessly and stopping, hovering, right there in front of the man responsible for his life turning into a living Hell.
His heart felt like it had calcified. Fossilized so that it only resembled the thing it once was and all the use it once had but now was strictly ornamental.
A relic of a bygone era.
Jason felt like time slowed down as the man across from him became aware of his guest.
And in that slow motion, the green-topped head looked up. It was the only part of him capable of movement, seeing as how the rest was seemingly bolted to the wall in heavy shackles. Pale skin seemed to glow in the sliver of moonlight shining through the small window in the cell. The second his eyes focused on the figure across from him, those horrible red lips thinned and spread across his face, stretching every crease and line and warping every feature while also revealing crooked yellow teeth.
Eyes the same shade of yellow seemed to light up. "Oh!" He practically chirped. "A visitor, for me? And I didn't even put out the good china!"
In that span of slowed time, in which from Jason's perspective things stood out in painful detail, he already knew this moment was going to stick to his memory for as long as he was going to (sort-of) live.
Which was just perfect as far as he was concerned.
He tilted his head to one side, narrowing his eyes just so. The Joker mimicked him.
"Gotta say, Red. Not sure how I feel about the change in look. At least when The Bats updates his wardrobe, he has the decency to stick with similar colors." Yellow eyes darted up and down, the mouth somehow stretching just a little bit more. "Meanwhile you shifted from red to green like a Christmas ornament and didn't even think to consult ME about it."
Red lips drooped in a mock pout. "It's the sort of thing to make a fella think you don't care!"
While the information that his helmet had shifted to green since his transformation flitted through his mind, that was the last thing Jason was going to put any brain power towards, instead raising a translucent hand.
"Wanna see something funny?"
The temptation to wait, to give the bastard who ruined so many lives the chance to have a last word, to say something else so to give the supposed Clown Prince of Crime one last piece of his mind burned within him briefly, something he blamed on his love of stories and how often they seemed to thrive off of narrative climaxes.
But wasn't that what was happening? The very boy this clown once killed years ago having come back to avenge his own death, now with the help of otherworldly powers he could only have gotten if he died in the first place?
It would have been poetic if it weren't so horrible.
So instead, while Joker's mouth seemed poised to no doubt spit out some more venom, maybe let on that he once again somehow knew more than he possibly could, Jason threw all thoughts from his mind and struck.
And like the steel doors, the stone walls, and every other thing he easily glided through on his way here, his hand plunged into The Joker's chest like it was nothing.
Right when Danny flew in.
What happened next was an epic case of bad timing.
Because right as Jason was relishing the feeling of wrapping his thick fingers over the clown's still beating heart and pulling his elbow back, Danny barreled in looking for him, and bore witness to everything .
"Hey man, I think we should head ou- aaAAAHHHHHH! WHAT ARE YOU - OH MY GOD!"
But Jason wasn't in the mood to care.
Because like something out of his dreams, he got to stand there before the man responsible for so much carnage and so much of his life going south, and hold up his own heart in front of him.
"Huh...weird," Jason smirked behind his helmet. "Didn't think you'd actually have one of these. Funny, a'int it."
Against all odds, Joker's face had somehow gone paler while he gasped for breath. His lips rapidly turned blue while his eyes rolled into the back of his head, all while doing his best beached fish impression.
It was beautiful.
"Whoops." Jason spat out, dropping the organ in his hand on the floor. "Guess you do. My bad... ha ha ha"
And somehow, even in the midst of rapidly dying from no fucking heart, Jason didn't miss the rage in the clown's face. The clenched teeth and fists, the leaning forward as if trying to bridge the distance and shoot for an attack, the red in the eyes.
Only for it to all leave in an instant. The Joker, once one of the greatest monsters mankind ever produced, a menace in purple and green and always with a deadly joke for everyone he met, slumped over where he stood, only held up by the chains he was still in.
All life within him gone.
The peace that followed was maybe louder than any sound Jason had ever heard.
Only for it to be broken a moment later by a retch behind him.
Looking over his shoulder, Jason saw the kid doubled over in mid-air, holding his stomach in one hand while the other attempted to wipe the glowing green bile from his mouth. An unmistakable puddle of that bile just underneath him stained the dirty floor of the cell.
Jason didn't know if it was possible for a ghost to look green around the gills, but that's what Danny was at the moment.
"Oh - oh my God," the kid gasped, and part of Jason did feel bad for the little dweeb, but then again, it's not his fault he decided to follow him into an asylum. Jason didn't owe his life story. "Y-you - you... holy SHIT! "
"Had to be done." Jason shrugged. "Like taking out the trash; ya keep putting it off long enough and all the shit that piles up becomes a problem." He jerked a meaty thumb over at the corpse on the wall. "But not anymore."
Thing was, Danny didn't seem to be in the mood to appreciate Jason's explanation. His big green eyes were darting everywhere except the opposite wall, pupils shrunken from stress while he seemed to flicker in and out of visibility, all while his aura flared in what Jason could only assume was ghostly distress.
"You...you killed him." It wasn't a question.
And he wasn't the first person to say that to Red Hood. "Yeah. If it makes you feel any better, that asshole killed way more people than I ever will."
"W-what?" The question came out shakily from the smaller ghost, floating back from the man he was just realizing he gave ghost powers to despite knowing nothing about.
Like whether or not he has a body count.
Or if he planned on adding to it.
"Gotta say kid," Jason couldn't help but admire the bloodlessness of the hand he used to rip out Joker's heart. Even whatever blood that covered the heart when he removed it and stained his glove had sloughed off as soon as he turned his limb intangible and back. "You just made my job ten times easier."
Gotham was going to be so fucking crime free.
Though he didn't know what to make of how Danny's eyes were trained on him, the same shell-shocked, shrunken-pupil look from earlier now boring holes into his head like he was seeing Jason for the first time. Not unlike when Joker was dying, Danny's skin somehow got even paler than the ghostly pallor he seemed to usually sport, all while drifting backwards from the assassin until his back was against the wall.
"Who...who are y-you?"
"No one you have to worry about." Jason reassured, though he wasn't at all certain his words were going to do anything. A guy's words kind of turn to mud the second the person they're trying to calm down sees you rip another guy's heart from his chest. Still, he wasn't in the business of making ghost kids fear-barf. "Not unless you think you want to make a living selling heroin in my neck of the woods." He clenched a meaty fist, ghostly aura flickering like a hungry flame. "Then I think we might have some words."
He was thinking Two-Face next, long since burnt out on the thought of any possible good Harvy Dent could have accomplished had he not given himself over to his personal demons.
Not like Jason had much of a leg to stand on, but he at least turned his rage towards known bastards and not just to making Gotham even more of a cesspit. The fact that the former DA fell that hard always had the former Robin doubtful about the man's supposed "good intentions" in the past, and he'd occasionally wonder just how long it would take for the other side to come out if Dent never had his accident.
Still, he was pretty fucking sick of having to reroute all the arms shipments that Two-Face tried to funnel into the city.
Maybe he'd just plant that damn coin in his brain.
Danny, however, clearly wasn't taking the news too well that he awakened superpowers in a professional hitman. His eyes looked overly large with how wide they were on his face, pupils practically vibrating in the neon green irises. Jason watched the kid's body language as it made a gradual, but unmistakable shift.
Shaking hands clenched into fists, shoulders squared in yet another way that reminded Jason of his younger brothers, (all vigor and justice radiating stupidly from their thin bodies), and eyes hardened as they trained on the larger figure. It all screamed an imminent fight and Jason really didn't want to hand a kid's ass to himself, not while Two-Face was still running around taking his anger issues out on the unsuspecting public like an asshole.
At least HE could say he took his anger issues-by-way-of-shitty-childhood and made them into something constructive...like putting the heads of several drug traffickers into a bag.
"You...you can't do this...you can't get away with this."
In no way was Jason about to bend to this kid. "Dunno if you were listening, but the longer this asshole remained alive, the more people he was going to kill. You just gave me the keys to solving that little problem." He once again beheld a green glowing hand. "Pretty much all my problems."
If possible, Danny looked even paler at those words, but Jason wasn't in the business of caring. He was already formulating his latest hit-list.
There were going to be some very creative crime scenes in the near future.
Though when a bright green blast of ghostly energy slammed into his chest, right when he was in mid-fantasy about removing Penguin's skin from the rest of him and leaving his body to dry out like a prune, he was forced to acknowledge that not every skinny teen he admits to being a violent hitman to is going to take it like his brothers.
Still preferable to the whole spreadsheet Timbit sent him that laid out his supposed "less lethal methods for curbing criminal activity," as if they both hadn't been raised by a man attempting the same goddamn thing in a bulletproof batsuit.
Tim still struggled with breaking free from a parent's shadow, but Jason fully believed the point of growing up was to be a better version of the person who raised you, and criminals can't criminal when they're good and dead.
So he was going to attempt to be a little lenient with the kid currently glaring him down.
"Huh...okay kid, that's your one shot." He menaced, righting himself in the air, body feeling more weightless than his two-twenty wall of muscle self had ever known. "But I'll give you a mulligan since you remind me of my saddest, sickliest brother."
It was less ghost bullshit and more brother bullshit, but somehow Jason just Knew that Tim, in his race to his location, could feel the latest in a long line of digs at his person.
He could die mad about it for all he cared, the little dweeb always looked like he was one bad breakup away from dying of heartbreak like some sad woman in a romance novel anyway.
Danny, meanwhile, looked like he was trying to convince himself he could totally fight a tiger while armed with only a slingshot. He'd probably have a better chance in that situation. "Y - you can't do this!" He sputtered, clearly losing a fight with nerves which mattered little to Jason, though he could have sworn this kid said he's tackled his own fleet of bad guys. "You can't just - just - THAT!"
A white gloved hand gestured to the slumped body of the once proud Clown Prince of Crime. "And think you can get away with it!"
And unable to ignore that perfect opportunity for an out, Jason simply blinked back.
"Watch me," and flew up through the Arkham roof into the night sky.