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Chapter Text

That was it, his final play, the bomb in the fireplace, there are no more plans after this, he was ready for this to be the end, Bruce on the other hand had already launched himself to defuse the bomb and Joker as the contrary throws himself over Batman “No” Joker screamed “don't spoil it. This is better” pinning him to the ground. "I'm the only one who's gonna get what he wants tonight” he continues to spiel, with just a few seconds left Batman punches the laughter out of the Joker and within the remaining time pulls Red Hood to the next room just when everything explodes.

The building goes completely down, they are immediately buried by rumble and take everything in Bruce to take them out of it, he is holding to himself by a tread and, in the time that Batman is moving debris looking for the Joker, Red Hood slips away from there. He walks two blocks out of the exploded building before he even considers removing his domino mask, there is no way no one would recognize his hunch and untidy form as the Red Hood, not when he's without his helmet or his gear, this being one of the best points of a secret identity. 

Even so, nothing changes the fact that he is still heavily injured and barely conscious, in the middle of Park Row, without a way out, that's when he decides to enter the alley before he passes out in the middle of the street. In the alley, bare of most things other than the trash, he falls over a pile of garbage, that is most of all incredibly uncomfortable, and that where he finally passes out.

●

He doesn't really know for how long he was out but must be a long time since the soft light bathing him suggests that it must be early morning already. All of his body hurts both from his injury from last night and from him sleeping on a literal pile of garbage but the worst of all is the headache he is having right now. It is a pain that starts from the back of his eyes and extends to the sides of his head that annoys him in the worst possible way. It is something that has been occurring since he came back and even though it is a normal occurrence now, this particular one feels worse than normal.

“Good, you awake” says a female voice to his left “are you feeling okay?” before he notices he's on his feet, guard up and ready to fight. The owner of the voice on the other hand is still calm leaning against the wall looking at him with her greenish blue eyes, she is taller than the average woman, with a head of orange hair, in a glance you could mistake her for Barbara, but he's not looking at her in a glance. “Are you in any pain?”

She stood there calmly, more than any other person in this situation should be, “What exactly are you doing?” he demands with the little strength he has in his voice. 

“I'm helping you, you look terrible.” She pointed out the obvious that he couldn't deny but still this situation doesn't make any sense. “Do you want painkillers? I have some with me.”

“Who are you?” He finally asks, because this is the simple question that could answer a multitude of other questions. 

“I'm Jazz, Jazz Fenton, student of the psychology program in Gotham U. And you are?” Jazz answered, meaning completely nothing to him and the shock of this answer finally made him think, he could just run for this interaction, Jazz was not anyone important in his life, he didn't own her nothing. But for some strange reason he stayed, something on her demanded him to stay.

“I'm Jason. And I here questioning myself why a thing like you is here, in the middle of an alley in Park Row, making sure I'm OK, by all accounts doesn't make any sense.” 

Jazz was still unfazed when she reached her hand into her pocket, Jason almost jumped her for fear of a gun, she on the other hand pulled a piece of paper. “Is not that hard to explain, a friend of mine asked me to come here and help you, specifically you, I don't know why but she was super insistent, anyway you clearly ok so here my number if you need help with anything.” She put the paper on the ground, turned and left. Leaving Jason with more questions than answers, he even considers going away without her number but decides that he should have.

●

It was already mine in the morning when Jason finally entered his safe house, a little studio apartment east of Robison Park with a roof access. He was dying to just sleep the rest of the day but he knew he needed to check his injuries.

When he was taking his clothes off to make the examination he notices the little piece of paper in his pocket and remembers the strange girl that was there when he woke up and gave her number to a complete stranger. Jason decided to put the number on his list of contacts, the only number there that was not for business. 

When he finally was ready to lay down and sleep he considered his options after this moment. There is no more motive to go against Black Mask and the organized crime since that plan finalized last night but it is still a bad idea to just abandon the little influence he had over Gotham crime, also there is no more reason to antagonize Bruce, since he proved he would not do it no matter what, even if he didn't agree and finally the Joker is probably dead, since he was on the the room with the bomb when it level the building but not confirmation for a couple of hours. 

And even through all of this he couldn't take his head off Jazz, the girl that was trying to help a complete stranger on an alley in Crime Alley, which was a reasonable thought since this was one weird course of action. And in the last moments of his conscientious mind he just thought she was a very adorable girl. 

Chapter Text

On a calm afternoon in the Gotham library Jazz was almost finished with her History of Psychology essay, when she noticed one of her sources was wrong about a date that she needed to have absolutely correct. She gets up to search for the book again and in the shelves to get this book of her source she feels the temperature from the room drop drastically, this being a particular sign of a very strong ghost nearby. 

For some reason she couldn't fathom, ghosts in Gotham like to talk to her, she thinks it's the fact that she is incredibly liminal and this makes some ghost feel safe to talk with her. Of course she doesn't mind talking with ghosts in her free time, she even has a secret research compiled of only ghost subjects, but at the moment she is busy with an essay that can guarantee her chances of getting an internship on Arkham and she would hate to stop even for a little. 

When a dark figure just appears behind her Jazz is ready to very gently let this ghost know she is busy and cannot help but when the figure talks with a whisper of a voice against her ear she feels this one is more that the regular ghost that she normally talks with “Miss Fenton do you have a minute?”

She turns around to see that the figure is in a gothic dress, looking like she's from a classic black and white movie and with a sad expression on her face, Jazz only saw ghost like this once or other time, mostly when her brother, Danny, somehow got himself in incredible trouble that he almost didn't get out of in time, the kind that was in the borderline of godhood and therefore should be treated with extreme carefulness. 

“Yes” Jazz very calmly said “I have some time to offer”. She was terrifying to Jazz in concept alone, but the feeling she invoked was somehow of pity and extreme sadness, as if she was a tragic character of a novel.

“Good, I need help on matters of my city” the dark figure whispered to her in a chilling voice that put Jazz on edge “you see I can't do much in the moment, do with the fact that I am quite cursed in the moment and one of mine is in grave trouble.” 

Jazz remembers some ghosts, and even Danny, telling her that some ghosts become very infatuated with other beings and this connection is extremely integral to the ghost, so this was a very important request, especially from a ghost this great “Not trying to be disrespectful but why does it need to be me? Don't exist other mediums in this city you can ask?” and Jazz was desperate from this to work, she didn't want to get involved with this great of a ghost.

“No miss Fenton, I can't count on just a medium to help this one, no, I need a liminal as you are. To help him. Because you see miss Fenton, you two are extremely similar in more ways than one” was the answer this dark figure delivered “I need to know if you can help.”

All Jazz wanted to say was no, but there was nothing, nothing in this request that gave her a secure way to refuse without angering a great ghost like this one “I don't see why not” her heart was beating in an aggressive pace “where is this person you wish for me to help, misses…?”

“He is in Gotham, he plans something very extreme that I don't see going his way. So I need you to find him early tomorrow in an alley in Park Row”.

And this was her chance out, even if to this ghost it didn't look like it would matter, a reasonable ‘no’ was more effective than a straight ‘no’. “Unfortunately, I don't think it would be a good idea, for a girl like me, to just walk around Crime Alley looking into alleyways like that. You understand, right?” Jazz really hoped this worked “ it seems extremely dangerous”.

“Don't you worry miss Fenton” the figure declared “because as the spirit of Gotham I can guarantee to you, you will not be harmed if you choose to fulfill this request to me. I promise.”

●

As Gotham had said she was apparently safe, especially because she was still to see a single person in the streets of Park Row or the alleys itself while she looked in them, searching for someone that somehow didn't belong here. Jazz still had the simple impulse to just leave and not complete this request, especially with the chaos that happened last night in [] bridge but, unfortunately, as stated to her innumerable times, some ghost should not be declined and the ghost of Gotham City is one of those ghosts. 

In the next alley she enters there is already a different feel to things, she can't say what it is but is what she is looking for. The alley itself is like every other she saw until this point, damp, dirty, full of garbage and on this one in a pile of trash a guy unconscious looking as if he survived a building falling on him.

Jazz is fast to examine him, firstly seeing if he was alive, he had a pulse meaning he was just unconscious, do he have any open wound? None that were relevant. Any bruises on him? Some but nothing serious, the guy looked okay, only a little worse for wear and when he inevitably woke up he would be definitely in massive pain. Since this guy was definitely who she was looking for, Jazz is glad that she carries painkillers with her.

She decides to wait to make sure he at least wakes up, she had to wait only some minutes before he stirred from his sleep “Good, you're awake, are you feeling okay?” Shoots out of Jazz's mouth before she finishes the thought “Are you in any pain?”

He shakes awake and in a fluid motion is on his feet in a defensive position facing Jazz “What exactly are you doing?” He asks, being a very reasonable question, what she is doing?

“I'm helping you” which was the truth “you look terrible.” Jazz would not lie to him as long as she can. Then she remembers he must be in pain “Do you want painkillers? I have some with me.” She offers.

“Who are you?” Another great question from him, here Jazz should lie, make sure he doesn't know who she is. 

“I'm Jazz, Jazz Fenton, student of the psychology program in Gotham U. And you are?” and now Jazz cannot believe in what she just said. It came out of her mouth out of nowhere, normally she thinks before talking but not here apparently. 

“I'm Jason. And I here question myself why a thing like you is here, in the middle of an alley in Park Row, making sure I'm OK, by all accounts doesn't make any sense.” and Jazz doesn't know how to feel, because she didn't expect him to answer her, not at least this sincere. Jason or are misjudging this whole interaction or is a great liar.

But this interaction runs its course to Jazz, she sure he is ok, even if he didn't take the painkillers, and also the fact that she offered all the help she particularly can offer. So she blurts with some urgency “Is not that hard to explain, a friend of mine asked me to come here and help you” was not a lie, for all intentions and purposes Gotham was her friend “specifically you, I don't know why but she was super insistent, anyway you clearly ok so here my number if you need help with anything.” Giving her number was not an idea she approved but she had already begun to write it down, she simply puts the piece of paper on the ground and bolts out the way she came.

She hopes that Jason don't get her number of the floor or if he do get it he never calls, no that she have nothing against Jason but for, all the good she could muster, he was a stranger, a stranger introduced to her by the ghost of Gotham City itself and this is not a good beginning of any kind of relationship, no matter what.

Chapter Text

This has been a terrible week for Jason, some of the gangs of Gotham bail on him after learning his reasons to go against Black Mask and the Joker didn't die on the building explosion and is now on a more secure cell in Arkham and he have a terrible migraine all week that is not letting he think no matter how many painkillers he takes and now he is about to have a ‘conversation’ with a Gotham gang that is, for some forsaken reason, trying to expand their reach to human traffic. 

It's been around four hours since Red Hood began the search and all point to this old hotel on Old Gotham that had seen better days. He decides to enter through the roof and sneak around to gain more intel but the hotel looks desert, he would think his information is wrong if not for the fact that the place looked lived in and the place is set up to accommodate the likes of human trafficking. He is ready to just leave and re-open the search when he hits the ground floor.

Is a scene of a massacre a least four people dead and mutilated, on close inspection is clearly that they chest were open without a clinical tool and it looks more like an animal attack than murder except for the fact that the corpses look intact and not missing something but is possible that Jason superficial check is maybe wrong. In the office of the place he finds a register of possible intent to start something but there is no register of the functionality of a traffic ring in operation. He glad, would have been a logistical nightmare to sort the victims, although he needed to find who beat him to the pot and killed the excrement of human beings in the lobby.

He searched the vault of the place just to make sure that he doesn't miss anything, inside he finds documentation pertinent to the hotel ownership and cash and an old diary bound in leather, when he touches the journal Jason feels the temperature of the room drastically drop. From behind him comes a booming voice that is not higher than a whisper “My heart, where is my heart?” When he turns, there floating two feet from the ground, he sees a figure beyond pale with dark hair pointing at him “you must find or yours I take!” and just as he has shown up he disappears. 

●

He took the diary with him, whatever was that caused the ghost to appear the diary was definitely linked to it. Of course he knew ghosts existed, there were Bruce reports on ghosts and there was also the fact that Jason is technically a revenant, if he didn't believe in ghosts he would be somewhat hypocritical.

Whatever was his problem he was certain he needed some mystical connoisseur to help him with the blatant curse put upon him, the issue on hand is the fact that most reliable mediums he knew were good friends with Bruce and in no circumstances would he get help that could be related with Bruce, at least not yet.

So the only thing left to do was research to find a different one to help him on his rescue, since he knew a failure to accomplish the task imposed on him by that ghost would result in the same thing happening to those bastards in the hotel.

He decided to start with ghost hunters do to his problem with a ghost, after around an hour of researching most ghost hunters he found were clearly scams that knew shit about ghosts but one of the most sketch looking ones called his attention, one homepage of ‘Fenton Works’ listed as the front most experts on ghosts in the world, sketch and clearly delusional, only problem was the fact the name was familiar and clicking on the about page show why, right there from a family photo staring on him he saw, the girl that just happen to be there waiting for him to wake up on an ally in Crime Alley, Jasmine Fenton or as she present herself Jazz Fenton. 

This turned everything so much easier, he knew she was somewhat strange, that she would help and he had her number, would be so easy to call. He dreaded to call, because he knew in the hotel he found three corpses ripped apart, he knew if he brought her into his problems he was risking her life too and he didn't want to live with the knowledge that if things went sideways he's the reason that a civilian girl is dead. 

In the end he decided to just text her, with his problem and asked for her opinion on the matter. That was a simple and detached way to make sure he got the help of someone who could help him without getting her involved. 

Of course she didn't respond right away. It was three in the morning but Jason was okay to wait, he had yet to finish combing a full diary for information.