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Red Hood pulled over, motorcycle engine humming between his legs. He checked his ammo bag.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, lifting the visor in his helmet up so he could see better in spite of the heavy shadows and almost perpetual rain that seemed to never truly leave Gotham. “One weekend. Just ONE fucking sunny day.”
“Asking for help from a wall? Even for you, that’s pretty dumb,” Nightwing quipped as he dropped from a nearby rooftop to land next to his brother’s bike. Jason flipped him off casually.
“What do you want, disco bitch?”
“I don’t want you, man. The League does.”
Jason stopped counting and turned to look at Nightwing.
“No shit?”
“No shit, Sherlock. Apparently Supes found out about you stealing that huge amount of pure Kryptonite when you came back and went on your little revenge run. You know, the one that ended badly because you’re an idiot.”
“Okay, fuck you. Literally came back from the dead and everyone decided it was fine to just forget me, thanks,” Jason snapped back.
“Yeah, fair point. You still failed miserably, though.”
Jason put his visor back down and stopped counting.
“Oh, stop. You know I’m just messing with you. They want your help. The Justice League. I know he’s not your personal favorite, but Superman specifically asked for you by name. That’s a good thing, Jace…and given what you’ve been through, you’ve more than earned it.”
Jason was quiet for a moment, considering Dick’s words.
“Thanks, man. So… when do they want me? Where’s the meet, the Cave?”
Nightwing grinned at him and pointed up at the dark sky.
“What? Up on a towe—wait, you mean the WATCHTOWER? Dude.”
“Badass, right? Don’t forget to take a picture of you flipping off the moon or something. Oh, and if Green Lantern tries to tick you off, just pull a Bat and sucker punch him. Apparently it works really well.”
Jason laughed.
“Okay, so what does the warp shit feel like?”
“Tingly, might make you nauseous, but it’s over fast. They’ll use the comms to give you a five-minute warning. Batman’s probably going to ambush you as soon as you get in to mind your p’s and q’s. I’d suggest asking J’onn if he can get you in through the bulk warp drive. They use it for inorganic material in general, but I guess it’s an easy thing to push a button and use it for people.”
Jason shifted on his bike, considering.
“Okay, just a hypothetical, but what happens if it’s like Harry Potter and I lose a leg and start bleeding out? Like what’s the worst-case scenario?”
Nightwing burst out laughing.
“It’s warp technology. It breaks you down by molecules, dude. Worst case scenario, you won’t even know you’re dead.”
“Well, at least it’s not being beaten and then blown to smithereens by the Joker. Really would rather not do that again,” Jason said drily.
Nightwing laughed.
“Just pay attention to your comms. Babs will let you know when to be ready. You might want to head to your place so you can put your bike up. Good luck!”
Jason nodded, pulling down his visor again as Nightwing turned and began scaling one of the buildings nearby. He returned to his bike and took off, zipping to his apartment. Just as he finished locking up his bike and started walking towards the elevator, the comm in his ear beeped.
“Red Hood, this is Oracle. Are you in the middle of anything right now?”
“Just locking up my bike. Nightwing said something about the Watchtower?”
“Yep. Superman wants your expertise on the criminal underground, specifically for a possible ring of people trading in weapons made with kryptonite. He heard about you stealing that ton of kryptonite from Black Mask when you first came back.”
“Shit. Do I need to piss or anything before they use the warp drive on me?”
“I’m in control of it,” Oracle said in bemusement. “But if you ask nice, I’ll let you go to the bathroom first.”
Jason laughed, hitting the elevator button.
“Mind if I grab a go bag? Some clothes, at least?”
“Sure, but they should have spare clothes up there for you.”
“Yeah, but not my underwear.”
“You’re weird, Jason.”
Jason laughed as he threw some clothes in a bag.
“Babs, any advice?”
“No. They’ll listen to you. Just ignore Green Lantern if he’s an ass.”
“Nightwing said to punch him.”
“You can do that, too. Ready?”
Jason affirmed, watching as blue wispy lights appeared by his feet. He stood still as the blue lights slowly moved up his body, encompassing him quickly. There was a bright flash, and sudden feedback sounded in his earpiece, making Jason wince.
“No, somethings not right. He’s not materializing, we—”
A bright flash appeared in front of Jason, and he could see a group of people in brightly colored outfits watching him in shock. The Justice League. Jason tried to reach for them, but he heard Oracle in his ear, fuzzy and breaking.
“Ja—stay sti—die!”
Jason saw Batman running towards him, stopped quickly by Superman. There was a loud crashing noise and Jason was falling, falling. He wondered if he was dying again.
Suddenly, it was raining, and Jason was landing in a large pile of trash bags. Neon lights and strange moaning noises mixed with sirens were all his senses could pick up, and he felt an ankle twinge as he stood up, stumbling out of the trash pile.
“Hey, where the fuck did you come from?” someone said behind him.
“Where am I? Who are you?” Jason said, reaching for his gun and turning to look at the man.
He looked strange, half of his face made up by red, electrical lights that looked painfully embedded in his face. Raw, cracked lips were below the lights.
“Aww, little bitch boy lost?” The man cackled at him, pulling out a baseball bat. Jason tensed immediately, pulling out his gun and pointing it at the stranger.
Four other people surrounded him, each with a different array of strange red lights in their face. They all wore black and it looked like they had scars on their exposed skin, with odd metal implants jutting out of them.
“Slice ‘n’ dice!” one of the strange men crowed, and Jason found himself dodging several knife attacks, grunting as a bullet hit the Kevlar under his motorcycle jacket. He fired back, then twisted away from the guy with the baseball bat, ducking his wild swing.
“Fuck! Back off, assholes!”
“Too late, gonk!”
The gang kept attacking and Jason gritted his teeth.
“Fine. You all asked for this!”
He fired off several rounds while grappling with the man with the baseball bat, continually moving and shifting around to avoid the other assailant’s attacks.
“Hey, someone’s beating on Dum-Dum!” someone in the distance yelled. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw several other red-lensed people running towards him. He turned and hit two of the gangers attacking him, then heard a gunshot and some yelling.
“Ey! Who didn’t invite me to the party?!” a man with black hair in a top knot and black jacket yelled, punching a couple of the guys attacking Jason.
“Maelstromers never invite gonks like you to parties!”
“Hey, V! Maybe be mean to the pendejos!”
“Pussy!” the woman laughed.
Jason turned and with the help of the man and woman who had jumped in to defend him, scared off the rest of the group.
“What the hell were those freaks? I’ve never seen someone like that.”
“New to Night City, man?”
“Yeah… yeah, I guess I am.”
Jason caught his breath and looked at the two people who jumped in to help him. The man was tall and buff and had green eyes and black hair in a top knot. He wore a black leather jacket with a depiction of the Virgin Mary, with a cluster of roses at the bottom. He carried two guns and wore a wide, cheery grin. The woman with him had a mohawk and some piercings in her ears and nose, and strange contacts. They made her look as if she had black and white cats-eyes.
“Not to be a bitch, but I gotta see El Capitán about a ride he reserved for me.”
“You’re cool. You remember what I told you about bikes, right?”
“Jackie, I’m not a gonk. I know what I’m looking for, all right?”
“Fine. Need a ride out to see him?”
V shook her head.
“Nah. Good luck in Night City, choom,” she said to Jason. “I’ve lived here most of my life, and it is not easy here. Keep your head up and on a swivel, especially in Maelstrom territory.”
Jason nodded as he watched her walk to what looked like a bus station, then turned back to Jackie.
“So, what’s your name, vato?”
“Jason. Who the fuck were those guys?”
“Shit, you’re fucking new to Night City,” Jackie said. “My name is Jackie Welles. Those gangoons are Maelstrom. They’re addicted to chrome the same way some people are hooked on drugs. They probably just jumped you cause they fucking could. You got a place to stay yet, choom?”
“No. Probably gonna find a hotel. You uh… you happen to know where one is?”
Jackie looked at him for a long moment, then shook his head.
“Fuck that. You can crash at my place. You hungry?”
Jason nodded.
“Then come on. We’ll catch the NCART to my mama’s place. Her chili is the best!”
The pair walked to the same station V had used and got on.
“So, we’re headed to Heywood. Its where I grew up. My mama runs a bar there the El Coyote Cojo.”
“Any gang problems there?” Jason asked, staring out at large holographic ads running in an endless loop into the sky.
“There’s gang problems all over Night City, choom. The trick is knowing what territory you’re in and how to protect yourself. I saw you fighting, you got good form. You a boxer?”
“Eh… I was raised by some guys who were sorta paramilitary. They taught me how to fight.”
“They did good. I might have to get you into a ring, see if you can take me. Anyway, in Heywood, you got the Valentinos and Sixth Street. They’re usually busy fighting each other, but it’s always good to know who they are.”
“Anyone ever do anything about the gangs, like the cops?”
“Eh, sometimes the cops do good, but mostly they’re pretty damn corrupt. The NCPD will call in MaxTac for the cyberpsychos, but mostly the gangs are left to their own devices. I heard of a few solos making good money hunting gangs down, but that also means you don’t have friends in the gang to keep you safe.”
“Damn. That sucks.”
“Hey, it’s better than being some corpo fatcat who lives above everyone else and never gets consequences for their actions.”
Jason nodded after a moment and turned back to the window.
“So, where you from, man? Atlanta? Or are you some nomad?”
“Uh, New Jersey. Still trying to figure out how I ended up here. Am I still in the U.S?”
“Nah, you’re not part of the New United States of America. You’re in Night City. Jersey’s fucking far, though. Did you just need a fresh start?”
“Yeah… I guess. I’m sorry man. I must have gotten drugged or something.”
Jackie looked at him closely.
“You need to see a doctor or something?”
“No, I… I think I just need food and a place to sleep.”
“All right man. I’ll show you some places around Night City later. How about for now, we pick up some of my Mama’s tamales and head to my place?”
“Sure, man.”
Jason sat back, watching as the unfamiliar metropolis flew by the windows of the train. Everything was a strange, brightly colored ad, or cinderblock walls covered in graffiti and old blood stains. He watched as a man in pink short shorts and boots approached Jackie, asking the other man for a cigarette before moving on. Other people looked down at their phones or listened to music. He sat up as the train stopped momentarily, looking out the window as a large AV labelled NCPD released several people wearing high-grade military protective gear and weapons, who quickly killed several gangsters wearing American flags with skulls on them. At the center of the skull was “6.”
“Those guys Sixth Street? The dudes you mentioned?”
“Yup. Looks like they had a cyberpsycho problem and MaxTac got called in. Eh, they deserve it.”
“You Valentino? Or do you just like them?”
Jackie laughed.
“Former member. I quit when I took some lead to the chest, scared my Mamita.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I’m good now. You ever end up in the hospital? What’s your hometown like?”
“Gotham? We have less advertising but its not totally different from here.”
“Huh. I didn’t even know Gotham was an actual city. Ey, you ever meet that Batman dude?”
“Ha, nah. I try to avoid do-gooders,” Jason said.
“Makes sense. I never understood him, anyway. Like why not just kill the Joker?”
Jason laughed as the train stopped and Jackie stood, beckoning him to follow.
“I hear ya.”
As they got off the train, Jason looked around. A lot of the people in Heywood looked Latino, and almost all of them were wearing vests and gold necklaces.
“Don’t worry, choom. I may not be part of the gang anymore, but the Valentinos respect me and mine. As long as you’re with me or Mama or in El Coyote Cojo, they won’t fuck with you. They follow God and the Santa Madre. Honor means something to them.”
Jason nodded as they walked into the bar and sat down.
“Hey, Jackie. Here for your mama’s special today?”
“You know it, Pepe. Hey, can we get some tequila over here, too? My buddy here needs a shot. He’s had a long day.”
Pepe nodded and turned to get the food and drink, returning quickly.
“Jackie? Can I ask you for a favor, choom?”
“What’s up, Pepe?”
“My brother’s up for parole. Might be able to throw him a big party, but I need eddies—”
“Sorry, Pepe. I’m still paying off the Arch. I don’t have an enny to spare, besides food and drink. You try asking Mama? Or maybe Vik?”
“Nah. I’ll work it out, man. Thanks. Tamales and tequila. Want the bottle to stay?”
“Nah, just a shot for me.”
Jason nodded. Alcohol sounded like a good idea to calm his jumpy, confused nerves, but he didn’t want to overdo it. Of course, if it was dream tequila, it wouldn’t make a difference… nah. Best not to risk it.
“Dig in, man. Don’t let your tamale get cold.”
Jason nodded slowly, then started eating.
“Night City’s not bad once you get to know it. You just gotta avoid cops and anyone who wants to fuck with you, which could be anyone. You gotta make friends, ya know? Find your own people, make a little money, and you’ll be fine.”
An older woman with white hair walked over, smiling as Jackie stood up from his spot, hugging her.
“Hi, Mama. How’s work?”
“Just fine, Jaquito. Who is your new friend?”
Jason quickly swallowed and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, then held out his hand for her to shake.
“My name is Jason. It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Welles. Your tamales are the best I’ve ever had.”
The older woman smiled at him.
“Well, he has manners at least.”
“He’s new to Night City, Mama. I’m going to help him get comfortable, like I did with V when she came back from Atlanta,” Jackie told her. “He held his own pretty good against some Maelstromers up in Watson.”
Mama Welles nodded.
“Make sure you give him my phone number, so he knows he can call if he needs a couch. Introduce him to the Padre, too. He’ll make sure he doesn’t get messed with, at least where Valentinos walk.”
Jackie nodded, waving an old, balding man over. He wore an ostentatious gold cross low on his chest and smiled warmly as Jackie had Pepe pour him a shot.
“Padre, this is Jason. He’s new. Jason, this is Sebastian Ibarra, one of the best fixers in Night City. He runs Heywood. If you need a job, he’s quick for one.”
“Nice to meet you sir. What kinds of jobs do you offer?” Jason asked, feeling the grip the old man had as they shook hands. Firm.
“I do. I can start you off easy, test your skills. I can’t just let someone unvetted run around doing jobs for me. We all have reputations, and word on the street is how business is run in Night City.”
Mama Welles nodded.
“Yes. And be careful, Jason. Just because they are easy jobs does not mean someone in Night City won’t try to kill you.”
With that statement, Mama Welles excused herself, ducking behind the bar and disappearing.
“You can ignore that, if you want. Mama just worries a lot. It’s her way.”
Jason nodded.
After a while, Jackie paid the tab and he and Jason stumbled into the alley behind El Coyote Cojo.
“Its so weird, you know,” Jason said to Jackie, slightly tipsy from the tequila shots. “I never expected any of this when I woke up this morning. I was just doing my usual shit in Gotham, riding on my bike and shit. Suddenly I’m surrounded by mail in—mail order—no, Maelstromers. Shit, I think I’m a little drunk.”
Jackie laughed, leaning against a garage door as he struggled to pull something out of his pocket.
“You must be a lightweight for tequila to hit you like that, choomba.”
“I guess. I’ve had a long day, man.
“Don’t worry about it. You can crash here and I’ll see if Misty’s okay with me crashing at her place until you have an apartment, so you can crash here. Just don’t touch my shit, okay?”
“Sure, man.”
Jackie left him in the garage, sitting on a couch next to an old aquarium as Jackie got onto a motorcycle and left. Jason slowly pulled out the comms airpod from his ear, and his cell phone from his pocket. Both were dead and blackened, and he was surprised he didn’t have more bruises and damage.
He sat back after taking off his boots, looking up at the garage’s ceiling and trying to make sense of his day. Was all this a dream? No, because the cuts on his knuckles from the fight were real. They bled, they hurt. His tech was busted. The tequila was real. The couch he sat on felt real. But maybe it wasn’t?
Maybe he was lying in the med bay on the Watchtower, comatose. Was Bruce looking at brain scans with the Atom and Mr. Terrific. Maybe he was already dead again. Maybe he died instantly and this was some wild shit his brain juices thought up for him to experience while the nerves were still firing. He twitched, fingers reaching beneath his t-shirt and running over his autopsy scars. Was he dead again? Would he be put back in the Lazarus Pit? Or was all of this just a really weird dream?