Chapter Text
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The bullet pierces through the forehead of the first man and blood splatters everywhere, spurting with the force of the last beats of his heart. The body falls to the floor with a loud thud. A second man dashes for cover, but not fast enough. A bullet grazes his throat, ripping the soft tissue, and blood pours out between the man's fingers as he tries to stop the bleeding. A third bullet finishes the job. The man crumples over the couch he was trying to hide behind like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
Jason reloads his gun, the dry, mechanical click of the magazine sliding into place loud in the otherwise silent house. He listens for footsteps while he slides along the wall, guns ready, taking cover among the shadows, darting from one piece of furniture to the other. The house is old. None of those modern open floor plans that make assessing the terrain easier. A lot of space, but all taken up by smaller rooms and doors sprouting from a long corridor that travels from the living room to the backyard.
According to his surveillance there are two more men inside. Jason barred the backyard exit before making his move, a wooden bar keeping the door closed from the outside and a small bomb that will trigger the moment the door opens. He likes to be thorough. No explosions so far, which means either the men are still in the house or he missed a third exit when he was casing the place. He's hoping for the former.
The first door in the corridor leads to a small office with an old computer and a printer. Nice. With some luck, he'll find further evidence in there, or better yet, a link to another child trafficking ring. That's how he got to these assholes in the first place. Guys dealing in children like sharing what they have, advertising it to like minded assholes. They hide well, but once you catch one, unraveling the network is like pulling on a thread that keeps on going.
The guest bathroom is also clear as well as the little storage closet next to it. The third door opens into a small guest room. No cigar. Where are these jerks? Adrenaline pumps through Jason's veins. Senses sharp and ready. Years of training coalescing into this very moment. Him or them. Jason loves a good hunt. The higher the stakes, the better. Oh, how he missed this when he was still playing by Bruce's rules.
Not many good things came out of Bruce beating the crap out of him on that rooftop. Jason spent months bed ridden, unable to follow up the leads on Artemis and Bizarro's disappearance. Roy the only bright spot among days filled with pain and despair. Bruce had done a number on him. But Jason survived it. He can survive anything it seems. Not a particularly comforting thought.
Nevertheless, Jason has always been one to count his blessings. There's been so few of those in his life that he learned to appreciate what little solace he can find. And one good thing did come out of that beating: freedom.
Janis Joplin had been so right: Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. That night Jason lost everything. His friends. His family. His faith that maybe someday, if he tried hard enough, Bruce would accept him again. There's no trying hard enough. He spent months plotting how to put Cobblepot out of commission without actually killing him, all because of the deal he'd made with Bruce. And for what?
Batman still beat him black and blue. In his darkest moments Jason wonders if Bruce would have killed him, had Roy not come to the rescue. He might as well have. If it weren't for Jason's helmet protecting his head, he'd probably be dead. His brain as scrambled by Batman's fists as it had been by Joker's crowbar. How sad.
Jason's life is a fucking mess. But the glass is always half-full, or a quarter full. Maybe it only has three fucking drops left. The point is, the glass is not empty. And now Jason's free to set aside Bruce's rules for good and only follow his own.
In between Jason's death and his resurrection, Bruce spent so much time trying to forget Jason existed that he forgot who Jason was, where he came from. The stick never worked on Jason. People beating him up only makes him come up swinging, no matter how much it hurts. It's the carrot Jason is helpless against; starving little street rat that he's always been. One fucking carrot and up he goes.
Bruce really missed the exit with that beating. Jason had been playing nice before, being a good law-abiding vigilante, dismantling his criminal empire bit by bit, coming back to the fold, running after the dangling carrot of Bruce's eventual acceptance. Ha-fucking-ha. So much for that. News flash, B-man, the beating didn't make Jason heel, it ripped off the leash and set him loose.
Oh, he still works with Batman. Bruce asks for help when he needs it. Jason provides it when he feels like it. They cooperate. Allies as long as Jason plays by Bruce's rules. Or pretends to.
Bruce only cares about two things: Gotham and the Justice League. The world is bigger, though. Much bigger. And Jason isn't as picky as Bruce regarding which people to protect. People in need of saving exist everywhere, not only in Gotham. As long as Jason doesn't don his Red Hood costume and goes in guns blazing, Bruce will never find out what Jason is doing in his spare time. And what Bruce doesn't know, won't hurt Jason.
Red Hood had been a bit of a hubris. Stealing something that had been the Joker's to make it his. A little calling card to Bruce back when Jason was still thirsting for daddy's attention. He made a name for himself, and good or bad, built a reputation that made idiots think twice before coming after him. It made sense to stick to it.
The point is, you don't need a fancy name or a flashy costume to fight for justice. Jason has the training, the resources and the calling. It doesn't matter if he's wearing a bright red hood or a two-dimes-a-dozen ski face mask. As long as he gets to save those who need saving, he counts himself happy.
He ducks seconds before the gun fires. Instincts honed by years of fighting coming through when he needs them. Bingo! Assholes three and four still in the house. Someone up there fucking loves Jason.
"Who do you work for? Who sent you?" asshole number three asks.
"Charon," Jason answers.
"Who the fuck's Charon?"
Obviously basic mythology and classic literature aren't part of a child molester's curriculum. Too bad. "You owe him a danake. He sent me to collect."
"A what now?"
The opening Jason is waiting for. He shoots. Asshole number three collapses. "Greet Charon for me, sucker," Jason mumbles. Three down. One to go.
The fourth man makes it even easier. He keeps shooting in Jason's general direction as he runs towards the back door. Idiot. Jason's almost tempted to let him get blown up, but the explosion is going to garner too much attention. The house is on the outskirts of town, isolated enough that Jason is sure no one has heard the shots. The assholes chose an isolated house for a reason. That's working against them now. The sheriff or his deputy might come looking if someone actually reports an explosion, though.
In the end, it doesn't matter. The click, click, click sound of the empty magazine is like music in Jason's ears. Asshole number four throws the gun away and starts slamming against the jammed door, trying to open it.
Jason rises from his cover slowly, not point is getting cocky at this point. The man slams against the door harder. The hinges whine and the handle rattles.
"Please, please don't! I'll give you anything you want. Please, just tell me what you want," the man begs. It'd be more effective, if Jason hadn't recognized the tattoo on his forearm from one of the child pornography videos that lead him here. In the video the child had begged, too.
Jason pulls the trigger. "Your life," he says to the corpse.
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The house's basement has been turned into a prison. Two rows of cells separated by iron bars, each cell barely six feet wide and nine feet deep, just enough space for a small cot, a chamber pot and a basin with dirty water. Animals in the zoo have more space than this.
The smell gets to Jason: humid, stale air mixed in with the rank smell of urine and shit. His skin crawls with disgust and he misses the filtering capabilities of his Red Hood mask.
The cells are empty. Jason doesn't know what to make out of that. This is the place. Jason doesn't make mistakes. Some of the cells even have old, broken toys on top of the unmade cots. Where are the kids?
Bile rises in Jason's stomach and then turns to anger. A cold, dark thing that grows and deepens, taking root into the core of his soul. He wants to kill those assholes again.
A low whimper comes from the far end of the basement. The light from the bulb hanging from the ceiling doesn't reach that far back and Jason can't make up who is there. He readies his gun just in case as he approaches slowly.
Jason's natural night vision is good but even his eyes can't quite penetrate the darkness. He sees a shape cowering towards the far end of the cell, hiding in a small space between the cot and the wall. The cell door is locked, an iron chain looped around the bars of the door and secured with an old, rusty lock.
"Hey, little one," Jason says, trying to sound soothing and non-threatening.
Jason crouches in front of the door, making himself seem smaller than he is, and places his gun on the floor raising his empty hands to where he hopes the child can see them. The kid has no reason to trust Jason or any grown-up coming towards them.
"I know you're afraid, but you don't need to be. I mean you no harm. The bad men are gone. No one will hurt you; I won't let them. You're safe now."
Old, rusty chains clank when the child crawls forward on hands and knees. The jarring noise echoes through the empty basement, raising the hairs on Jason's skin. A girl, Jason realizes once she comes closer, though he still can't quite make out the face.
Thick iron chains trail from her wrists and ankles. Her long hair is a tangled mess with long bangs hiding most of her face. The kid raises her head and sniffs the air loudly, animal-like. "You speak true," she says in a raspy, yet oddly-melodious voice. "Death loves you, and you love them. Will you free me for a boon?"
Jason's spine tingles with foreboding and his heart hammers inside his chest, his instincts screaming at him to back away and run.
Jason doesn't.
"Yes," he says. There's no way he's leaving a child chained in a basement cell, even if it's not a human child. Jason's instincts seldom steer him wrong. He can't pinpoint why, but he's certain that the kid isn't human. Jason is freeing her anyway. No sentient being deserves this fate. Not even aliens.
"Don't be afraid," Jason says. "I'm just getting the key." Slowly he lowers one of his hands and searches for the stolen keys in his pocket. It takes him a couple of tries until he finally gets one of the keys to fit the keyhole. The lock snaps open and Jason pulls the chain around the door free.
"I'm coming in now, okay?" Jason warns her before he pushes the cell door open.
The metal squeaks when the door moves, and the girl-like creature backs away, squeezing herself between the bed and the wall. She raises her thin arms defensively. The chains around her wrists and ankles rattle softly as she quivers and cringes, keening with fear.
"Hey, no, no," Jason tries to calm her. "I mean you no harm. I just need to free you from the chains."
"You speak true?" she asks filled with hope.
"Yes, I do," Jason reassures her, staying still. He doesn't want to corner her more than she already is. "Do you want to try the keys yourself? I don't have to touch you if you don't want me to." He offers the keys to her.
Her trembling intensifies and she cringes farther away.
"It's just the keys to the manacle," Jason explains.
"Poison!" she seethes. "You want my death just like the others."
"What? No! I just want to take off your chains, to free you," Jason reassures her. "You want to be free, don't you?"
"Yes," she sniffs.
"These are the keys to open the chains," Jason repeats slowly. "Open them and you'll be free."
"You open them, and another boon yours shall be," she says.
He wants to tell her that he doesn't need a boon, whatever she means by that, but she's terrified enough as it is. Jason just wants to free her as fast as possible.
"All right. Can you come a bit closer?" he asks. He doesn't want to make her feel like she can't retreat. She's been through so much already. Whatever they do, it has to come from her.
She remains still, waiting, and only begins to move when it's clear that Jason won't. Slowly, she crawls forward, stopping again and again to see what he'll do.
Jason waits patiently, not moving, until she's within arm's reach. "I'm going to free you now. That's all I'll do."
Avoiding any sudden movements, he takes one of the girl's hands in his. Her wrists are gaunt and bony, the proportions odd, much too small for the long, spidery fingers of her hands. The flesh is blistered and charred as though someone branded the skin with a hot iron before putting the manacles on her. It looks unbearably painful.
"Hush," Jason soothes her, keeping his voice calm and reassuring. "It's alright. This will hurt a bit, but it'll be over soon. Then I'll clean the wounds and it won't hurt so much." He has local anesthetic and a well-stocked medical kit in the car. Other rescue missions have taught him to always bring the basics along. He hopes human medicine will work on her.
The manacle opens after Jason finds the right key and he removes it slowly, trying his best not to touch the damaged skin. The moment the manacle is off, the girl's skin begins to heal, the red, infested brand marks fading away to be replaced by pink, healthy-looking flesh.
What the hell?
Jason looks at her, surprised, but he can't make out her expression. Her face is still covered in shadows and the long bangs that come almost to her chin. She's messing with his perception. Sure, the light is dim, but Jason's been working nights for a very long time. His eyes should have adapted by now.
It doesn't matter. Jason's freeing her anyway.
He opens the second manacle and watches carefully. Yes, there it is. The skin begins to heal almost as soon as he takes the manacle off. Were they laced with something? Some kind of kryptonite-like substance that only works on the girl?
"Your foot next," he informs her and she sits, raising one of her legs towards him.
"What's your name?" Jason asks, trying to make conversation.
She snatches her feet away and hisses at him, retreating back into the cell. "Not that boon!" she snarls. "My name shall not be yours! Three boons and your heart's desire if you will it, but never my name."
Jason has the sudden, strong suspicion that he knows exactly what kind of being he's dealing with and it's not an alien.
"You're a fae," he says warily, hoping that he's wrong, afraid that he isn't.
He only knows of fae from books and, until that day he thought they weren't real, but Jason has fought together with Greek gods and aliens. He's traveled to other dimensions. He's died and come back to life. There's magic in the world. So much magic. Why not the fae?
"You remember us," the fae says, backing further away, as far from Jason as the cell allows.
"Humans still tell stories about your kind. Old ones," Jason explains. There's a big divide in literature when it comes to the fae. Some stories claim they're playful but kind, while others talk of cruel, capricious beings, who will destroy you, your life, everything you hold dear and then do it again just for kicks and giggles. With Jason's typical luck it's probably gonna be the latter.
"We have stories about your kind, too," the fae says, voice filled with contempt.
Jason really should cut his losses short, gather his things and go. Leave her there until she can free herself, but he won't. You can beat the life out of the Robin, but never the Robin out of the man.
What's the worst thing that can happen anyway? The fae kills him. So what? Jason stopped fearing death long ago; he's living on borrowed time as it is.
"Look, I mean you no harm," Jason insists.
The fae croons and jumps forward. "Thrice said and bound," she sings in a melodious voice.
The air shifts and sizzles. An invisible hand tightens around Jason's heart and twists, pulling tighter and tighter. Jason's gasps for air, unable to breathe. The chime of bells echoes in his ears and the world vibrates around him as though reality itself is shifting. It feels like a thousand insects are crawling up Jason's body, spidery thin and slimy, working their way into Jason's eyes, ears and mouth until they've borrowed so deep inside of him that he can't say where they end and he starts.
They are everywhere. His body spasms as panic flares and he opens his mouth to scream but even his scream sounds like chiming bells. Just as sudden, the sensation stops, leaving Jason gasping for air. He falls to the floor and dry heaves, trying to stomp the memories of those things crawling into him.
"What did you do to me?" he grits out, wishing he had enough strength to grab his gun and shoot her. His vision wavers and a wave of nausea crashes over him, leaving him weak and trembling.
The fae moves closer. The darkness which had clouded her before fades and her face shines with an otherworldly inner light. Something cruel and ancient and wrong hides behind the childish smile, peeking through the bangs of her hair.
"Bound by your word, you are. Thrice said," she sing-songs, sounding amused. Her voice rings with the echoes of bells, and the air thrums with her power.
"I wasn't going to hurt you, for fucks sake," Jason snarls, seizing his anger and clinging to it. Anger is better than fear.
"Mortals lie. Better this way. Safer. Free me, mortal, and your heart's desire and three boons I shall grant," she promises again.
Jason laughs out loud with disbelief. "You think I'll free you now?"
The smile freezes on her face. Her expression loses the thin veneer of playfulness as she tilts her head, scrutinizing Jason as though he's nothing but a bug whose legs she's about to rip out. Jason's skin prickles and a sensation of useless-insignificant-powerless creeps over him.
"Stop it," he hisses at her.
"You are strong-willed for a mortal," she hums, studying him closer, the corners of her lips twisting into an amused, cold smile and the prickling sensation fades. She sniffs the air. "You are not like the others."
"Damn right I'm not!" He manages to push himself up enough to sit. If she comes at him, he's screwed, even breathing takes too much effort right now. What did she do to him? "Where are the children?" he asks her. "I came here to rescue them. They were here."
Her smile turns crueler and hungrier, lips pulling back to show gleaming sharp teeth that seem to be made of ice. "Gone. They are ours now. You cannot have them."
"You have to bring them back," Jason says.
"Is that the boon you ask?" she asks, cocking her head.
Jason tries frantically to remember what to do, or better yet what not to do, when talking to a fae. Don't talk to them is the big fat number one advice everyone gives, but Jason's life sucks and it doesn't seem as if it'll stop sucking any time soon. Ha-ha. Call the Joker for a good laugh.
Jason lived in Ireland while training with one of Talia's teachers. Over there, even those who don't believe in fae respect them. There are rules they have. Never thank a fae. Never repeat things thrice unless you mean them (that boat sailed on that, but at least Jason had meant it. Silver lining, right?). Never ask for their names (two from three, great going), and never ever ask them for anything. They will grant it, and it'll be everything you asked for and nothing you wanted.
"Where did you take them?" Jason wants to know.
"Away," she says. "Fear not, mortal, we only take those who come willingly. They wanted to go. They bargained for it."
"And you took advantage," Jason spits out angrily.
"Nothing comes without a price, mortal. But our price is always fair. We do not cheat."
Why doesn't Jason believe her? "We have stories that claim otherwise."
"We pay like for like, as it is fair, mortal," she says. "We do not cheat, but your kind always tries to. Who tells your stories?"
She's got him there. "Look, those children have families. Families who miss them. I will free you as I said I would, but you have to bring them back."
"They do not wish to come back. We do not force children, mortal. We are not humans." She says the last word like others would say cockroaches.
"How do I know you aren't lying?" Jason asks.
An invisible force slams Jason against the bars of the cell, dragging him up higher and higher until his head is touching the ceiling. "We. Do. Not. Lie," the fae sneers at him, her face contorting wildly with an uncontrolled, visceral rage.
Jason chokes as the invisible hand squeezes his throat until his vision begins to blur. His feet dangle in the air and he tries uselessly to scrabble away at a hand that isn't even there.
'You need me to free you,' Jason wants to tell her, but the words can't make it through the crushing force around his throat.
Just as sudden, it disappears, and Jason falls to the floor, coughing. His hand goes automatically to his abused neck. Breathing hurts and involuntary tears well up in his eyes as he coughs and wheezes, but Jason forces himself to look up and meet that uncaring, cold gaze.
The fae stares down at him dispassionately, her anger gone like it had never been there, her expression blank. The lack of anything warm or human in her gaze, disturbing and chilling in the face of a child. "They bargained to be taken from here." Her voice slithers like a snake through the room. "I shall not bring them back to this world. A bargain is a bargain. Ask for something else."
"They have families. They--" the words die on Jason's throat and though he moves his lips no sound comes out.
The fae's lips twist, cruel and menacing . "Families who hurt them. Families who do not want them. Families who sold them." She comes closer and crouches. Her icy gaze meets Jason's and she grins, flashing those sharp teeth of hers. "You know it, too. This truth. Who is the liar now, mortal?"
Jason swallows. "It's not always like that. Some of them are missed. Some of them…" he stops on his own accord. He knows that it isn't the case this time. The children he'd tracked here had been orphans, sold by their foster families. A disgusting network of monsters that used the system to traffic children who no one would miss.
The fae sniffs the air, coming closer as she does. Cold air brushes over Jason's neck whenever she breathes out, making his skin prickled with goosebumps.
"Truth hurts, but you do not hide from its pain like your kind does. You seek it out. What an odd mortal you are. No wonder she watches you so closely."
"Who?" Jason asks, confused.
"Death," the fae answers.
Jason shivers, looking around the dark basement as though he'd be able to see her, because sometimes… sometimes Jason thinks he can.
The fae stares at Jason with eerie intensity. "She follows you everywhere, and yet you cannot see her. She is here now, watching me through your eyes. Waiting. She has burrowed into your soul like a tick."
Jason bites down the instinctive desire to tell her that she's lying. His throat throbs with pain and he doesn't want her to attack him again. Besides, a part of Jason suspects that she isn't lying about this. Sometimes he can almost sense her--death--at the edge of his awareness, a secret stalker who's never too far away.
He needs to get out of here and… Jason's eyes catch on the manacles around the fae's ankles. The skin underneath is charred, too. Iron chains. Iron bars. Of course.
"How did they capture you?" he asks. Those goons should never have been able to get the drop of this creature.
"A mistake," she says, following his gaze down to the chains. "Free me, mortal, as you said you would. You who smell of truth and carry death in ye. Free me, and I shall grant you your heart's desire and three more boons, as bargained. Free me."
"Thrice said and bound," Jason says mockingly.
The fae straightens and stills, gasping, and the air in the room fills with power, the same power from before, but this time it's her who is shuddering. It's over in the blink of an eye, and when she looks up at him she laughs out loud. The sound of chiming bells echo in the basement.
"You are a clever one, mortal," she croons at him, sounding oddly proud. "Well bargained. Now, fulfill your part and I shall fulfill mine."
"Right." Jason eyes her distrustingly as she pushes her legs towards him. "Here goes nothing," he mumbles underneath his breath. In the back of his mind, a small voice chants, 'stupid, stupid, stupid.'
Jason takes a deep breath and starts searching for the right key, glancing at the fae every now and then, to see if she will attack again. She stays still, watching his hands test key after key with anticipatory eagerness. Finally, one key slots into the manacle.
Jason turns the key warily. The lock opens with a rusty clank and Jason peels the manacle off, watching the skin around the thin ankle heal. The same key opens the second manacle and when it finally falls off, the fae rises to her feet, and rises and rises, skin rippling and contorting. White light spills from her eyes and mouth like fog, slithering through the basement floor.
The iron bars of all cells rust and crumble to dust as do the chains and manacles, even the keys in Jason's hands become dust and fall like powder from his fingers.
The body of the fae pulses with power as more light spills from her. Threads of it coil and twist around her frame. She loses her child-like shape, growing in front of Jason's eyes until she no longer resembles a child, but a woman, or something that could pass for a woman if it weren't for the fact that she's too other.
The light fades slowly, leaving behind a pale being, whose skin glitters like ice and looks just as hard and unyielding. The color isn't white, but translucent, like a crystal. Underneath the skin, Jason can see the shape of muscles and veins, coiling and twisting whenever she moves, but where a human's body would be filled with warm, red blood, hers seems to be filled with a bluish ice-like liquid. No wonder so many legends name them creatures of winter.
The fae breathes in and out, sighing with obvious pleasure. She turns unnatural white eyes towards Jason. There's no pupil or iris in them, just total white, shining with a cold, malicious light that sends chills up Jason's spine.
"You have fulfilled your side of the bargain, mortal, and I shall fulfill mine. Speak your heart's desire and grant it I shall," she sing-songs in that strange, hypnotic cadence of hers.
Nope. Jason's isn't stupid enough to fall for that one. Never.
"I'm fine," Jason says, backing away slowly. "My life is perfect. I don't need anything. I'm happy as I am. The happiest."
She tilts her head and sniffs the air again. Her face twists with revulsion. "Your words reek of lies."
"The things I want, you can't give to me," Jason says. "And even if you could, I would not ask them of you. I freed you because no one deserves to live in chains. I don't know how you were captured or how long you've been here, but even one minute would be a minute too long. Stopping it was my heart's desire and it's already fulfilled. We're good."
"You lie," she accuses him and her eyes narrow.
The temperature drops so fast that Jason sees puffs of white smoke dancing in front of his face when he breathes out.
"You lie," she insists, "but you know it not. I had wondered, but you are no different from others of your kind. There is a truth in you that you fear to face, for it hurts you so. You yearn, mortal. There is no happiness in you, only hunger. You bargained for my power. Ask!"
"No!" Jason says, biting back the automatic, 'thanks' that wants to get out.
She narrows her eyes and her face twists with anger. "Debts must be repaid, mortal. You seek to trick me, to keep me in your debt. I have been the prisoner of your kind for far too long. I shall not be your prisoner any longer. You bargained for your heart's desire, mortal, and grant it I shall."
Light pours from the fae's eyes and mouth and glides towards Jason. He backs away but the light is faster. It creeps up his legs and torso. Jason tries to push it away, but his hands go through it uselessly. It pulses brighter as it moves up his body.
"No," he snarls. "Make it stop!" The light creeps into his mouth and nose and it’s like before, thousands of insects crawling into him, buzzing in Jason's ears and underneath his skin, unmaking him. Jason wants to scream but can't. It feels like someone punched through his lower back, grabbed his entrails and yanked. Pain swallows everything.
The fae laughs and the world dissolves around Jason with a ringing of chimes.
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