Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Repossession Man
Jason Todd didn’t believe in ghosts. He had been one, and it was a job description, not a supernatural state.
He moved across the rooftops of the Narrows with a fluid, predatory grace that even Nightwing would have to respect. He wasn’t wearing the bulky tactical gear tonight; he was in "Street Lethal" mode—fitted Kevlar-weave hoodie, reinforced jeans, and the Red Hood helmet, its HUD painting the world in shades of tactical gold and thermal red.
"Target lost?" Jason asked, his voice a mechanical rasp through the external speakers.
"Negative," Oracle’s voice crackled in his ear. "But the signature is.. weird, Jason. It’s like the city’s GPS is trying to forget that alley exists. You’re standing on a dead zone."
Jason dropped forty feet, his boots hitting a fire escape with a silent, muffled thud. He didn't use a grapple; he used physics. He landed in the mouth of Crime Alley.
The air here was wrong. It didn't smell like Gotham’s usual cocktail of exhaust and rain. It smelled like nothing. Absolute, clinical sterility.
He saw the kid. Leo was backed against a brick wall, his small frame trembling. But he wasn't looking at a mugger. He was looking at a tear in reality.
A creature stood there—a Collector Drone. It was a towering, spindly thing made of white, polished bone and humming silver wires. Its "face" was a flat, silver mirror. It didn't have a weapon; it had a hand outstretched, and where its fingers touched the brick, the color simply evaporated, leaving behind a chalky, grey ash.
"Hey, Tin Man!" Jason yelled, his twin 1911s already out and leveled.
"The kid’s under my protection. You’re trespassing."
The Drone turned. Its mirrored face reflected Jason, but the reflection was wrong. It showed Jason in his tattered Robin suit, covered in dirt and blood.
"Asset 7-2-1-9 detected," the Drone droned.
It sounded like a dial-up modem trying to scream.
"The deficit must be reclaimed. The child is a temporary stay of execution."
"Kid, run. Now!" Jason commanded.
Leo didn't need to be told twice. As the boy bolted, Jason opened fire. He didn't just spray and pray; he fired a choreographed sequence—two to the joints, one to the sensor array
The bullets hit with the force of a sledgehammer. The Drone’s arm snapped back, silver oil spraying against the wall. But it didn't slow down. It moved with a jerky, stop-motion twitch, appearing five feet closer in the blink of an eye.
"Teleporter," Jason grunted, switching to a high-explosive round.
"Fine. Let's see how you handle a localized sun."
He fired a specialized flare-round directly into the Drone’s mirrored face. The explosion was blinding, white-hot magnesium filling the alley. Any normal meta-human would have been disoriented.
Jason used the cover. He lunged, sliding between the Drone’s spindly legs and planting a puck-shaped thermal charge on its spine. He rolled, came up in a crouch, and detonated it.
The blast threw the Drone into a dumpster, the metal screeching as it crumpled.
"Target neutralized," Jason said, reloading with practiced, lightning-fast motions.
"Not even close, kid," a new voice rasped.
Jason spun, guns leveled. John Constantine was standing there, leaning against a lamp post that hadn't been there five seconds ago. He was lighting a cigarette, his eyes tracking something behind Jason.
"Behind you, Red," Constantine warned.
The Drone didn't just stand up; it reconstituted. The melted silver and shattered bone flowed back together, ignoring the laws of entropy. The air around it began to distort, pulling the moisture out of the bricks until they turned to dust.
"Move!" a woman’s voice commanded.
A blur of gold and red slammed into the Drone. Wonder Woman didn't just hit it; she drove it through three feet of reinforced concrete. She stood in the crater, her sword drawn, its blade glowing with a divine, pale light.
"It is a Shade of the Void," Diana said, her voice a calm anchor in the chaos.
"Your weapons cannot kill what does not truly exist, Jason."
"Then I'll find something that does," Jason snapped, his eyes narrowing behind his visor. He wasn't scared; he was pissed.
"Who are you people? And why is the universe trying to repossess my neighborhood?"
Zatanna drifted down from the rooftops, "It’s not the neighborhood it wants, Jason. It’s the interest. You’ve been alive for five years when you should have been dust. The universe has finally sent the Bailiff to settle the tab."
"And he’s using the kids as collateral," Detective Chimp added, stepping out from behind Diana, adjusting his hat.
"The more you stay alive, the more the world around you gets deleted to pay for it. Nice tactical work, by the way. Most people just scream when the laws of physics stop working."
Jason looked at the ash on the ground where the bricks had been. He looked at the three heavy-hitters of the Justice League Dark standing in his alley.
"I don't care about the cosmic ledger," Jason said, the cold fury in his voice making even Constantine pause.
"That thing took a kid on my watch. If you want to help, fine. If you’re here to tell me I should be dead, get in line behind the Joker. We’re finding that kid."
Constantine smirked, blowing a ring of smoke.
"He's got a bit of a temper, Diana. I like him. Let’s go before the Bailiff sends the rest of the precinct."