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Jason wakes up to violence.
Not the usual kind—no gunfire, no screaming, no distant explosion courtesy of someone with a doctorate in clownery. No.
This is worse.
Singing.
At first, it’s muffled, like someone down the street forgot how inside voices work. Then it gets louder. Harmonized.
HARMONIZED.
Jason groans into his pillow.
“Who the hell is dying in tune at six in the morning…”
BANG.
His bedroom door slams open so hard it ricochets off the wall.
“GOOOOOD MORNING, GOTHAM—!”
Jason sits bolt upright, already reaching for the gun under his pillow.
Standing in the doorway is Dick Grayson.
Jazz hands.
Full beam smile.
Backup music that absolutely should not exist in Jason’s apartment.
Jason squints. “…What.”
Dick strides in like he’s late for Broadway, spinning once for no reason other than commitment. “Another beautifully bright and sunny day in gorgeous Gotham City—!”
Jason looks at the window.
It is still pitch gray outside.
“Dick,” Jason says flatly, “if you don’t get out of my room, I’m going to shoot the concept of music.”
Dick ignores that completely and marches to the window.
Throws it open.
Like a Disney princess summoning woodland creatures.
A barn owl immediately swoops in and lands on the curtain rod.
Jason blinks.
The owl blinks back.
“…Where did you even—”
“♪ Even the night sings good morning today! ♪” Dick trills, gesturing to the owl like this is a totally normal supporting cast member.
The owl hoots.
On beat.
Jason stares at it. “…I’m hallucinating.”
“♪ The city’s alive in a magical way—! ♪”
“Gotham is alive in a tetanus-and-crime way,” Jason snaps, swinging his legs out of bed. “And why is there an owl in my room.”
Dick gasps like Jason just insulted his mother. “Her name is Gloria. Show some respect.”
The owl—Gloria—ruffles her feathers smugly.
Jason rubs his face. “I’m going back to sleep. When I wake up, you’re going to be gone, the bird’s going to be gone, and whatever theater kid demon possessed you is going back to hell.”
“♪ No time for sleep when the world’s so bright! ♪”
Jason grabs his gun.
Dick seamlessly spins out of the line of fire mid-verse.
Of course he does.
“♪ Adventure is calling, come join the delight—! ♪”
“THE DELIGHT IS A FELONY, DICK.”
Dick grabs Jason’s arm and hauls him upright with dancer-level precision. “Come on, you’ll miss the opening number!”
“There is no opening number—”
Dick physically drags him to the window.
Jason takes one look outside—
—and freezes.
Because the street below is packed.
Cars.
People.
Absolute gridlock.
And every single person has abandoned their vehicle.
To sing.
Like full choreography. We’re talking synchronized spins, coordinated stepping on car hoods, a guy in a business suit doing a leap that should have required a warm-up and a life insurance policy.
Jason slowly lowers his gun.
“…Why are the New Jersey drivers the most coordinated.”
Dick beams. “They’ve been rehearsing!”
“THEY’VE BEEN WHAT—”
And then it hits.
The music swells.
Like the entire city just collectively hit “dramatic chorus.”
Somewhere in the crowd, someone belts out a note that would make Ryan Gosling proud.
Jason grips the window frame. “No. No, absolutely not. This is a mass hallucination. Scarecrow. Fear toxin. Something.”
Dick slings an arm around his shoulders. “♪ Isn’t it wonderful? ♪”
Jason slowly turns his head.
“Dick.”
“Yes, little wing?”
“If you start dancing, I’m throwing you out the window.”
Dick pauses.
Considers.
Grins wider.
And then immediately launches into a full spin-kick-step combo.
Jason closes his eyes.
Opens them again.
Still happening.
“…I’m killing the city,” he mutters.
“♪ You’ll love it by the end, you’ll see—! ♪”
“I will not.”
“♪ Just wait until Act Three! ♪”
Jason grabs his jacket, holsters his gun, and storms toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Dick calls, still somehow singing.
Jason doesn’t stop.
“To find literally anyone else who thinks this is insane.”
He yanks the door open—
—and nearly gets taken out by Damian Wayne sliding past in socks across the hallway floor.
“…No,” Jason says immediately. Wait... How the fuck is the Manor in my apartment? OR IS MY APARTMENT SOMEHOW IN THE MANOR???
Damian lands perfectly, spins, and points dramatically down the hall.
“♪ Father says we must embrace the day—! ♪”
Jason slowly turns around.
Dick is now leaning against the wall like this is a completely normal family bonding moment.
Jason looks back at Damian. Then down the hallway that 100% did not exist in this building last night. Then back at Damian
“…You too.”
“♪ I do not know why you resist this way—! ♪”
Jason presses two fingers to his temple. “Okay. Cool. Great. Fantastic. The demon got all of you.”
Damian frowns mid-verse. “♪ I am not possessed. ♪”
“♪ Then explain THIS MESS—! ♪” Dick harmonizes.
Jason snaps.
“STOP RHYMING!”
The music cuts for half a second.
Jason breathes.
Hope.
Silence.
Then—
Full orchestral swell.
From inside the house.
Jason looks at the ceiling.
“…Where is the band.”
Dick shrugs cheerfully. “♪ We don’t question it! ♪”
Damian nods, dead serious. “♪ It simply exists. ♪”
Jason stares at both of them.
Then very calmly reloads his gun.
“Cool,” he says. “Cool cool cool.”
He steps past them.
“Jason—?” Dick sings.
“♪ Where are you going now—? ♪”
Jason doesn’t look back.
“I’m going to find Bruce Wayne,” he says flatly.
A beat.
“…and if he starts singing, I’m fucking shooting him.”