Chapter Text
There was a demon at the bottom of the Pit, Jason was told.
He’s pretty sure it’s not there anymore.
Jason opens his eyes, ignoring the glowing green sitting, waiting, in the corner. It’s a monochrome thing, dull shades of green mixing with the neon in places, only its eyes are a near-white glow. For some reason, it’s currently choosing to appear like Robin; Jason’s version of the suit, Jason’s haircut, Jason’s domino, but it can never quite get his face right. Maybe ‘right’ isn’t the correct word; it’s like the angles of its face shift to show all of them without the apparition moving its head, or, like a reflection on water that sways back and forth.
Which makes sense, since it is the Lazarus Pit demon.
“You really do need to get more sleep, boy.” It says, tone bland from months of repetition.
Jason doesn’t sleep much anymore.
***
“Do I really need to point this out?” Lazarus sighs, twirling its raggedy cape around its fingers. “Your plan is ridiculous. It’s over complicated. Convoluted. I am very much not a fan of the end, either. Killing the Joker? Absolutely. Taking over Gotham’s underworld to control crime? Inspired. The rest is terrible, and frankly you can do better.”
Jason keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop, doing his best to pretend that he can’t hear or see anything. It’s a little pointless since the demon knows he can. But it’s a battle of wills and Jason is not going to lose.
“It’s foolish. You’re not a fool, boy.” Lazarus continues, unbothered by Jason’s lack of engagement. “The worst part is that you’re just taking Talia’s word that all her information is correct. As if she’s unbiased, and not manipulative...”
Jason pauses in his scrolling. Lazarus has a point, and as much as Jason wants to refute it, he can’t. Talia isn’t lying to him, she doesn’t need to. But if it’s to her benefit to simply leave something out to subtly guide Jason into the course of action Talia wants him to take? Oh, she’ll absolutely do that.
“Especially when there’s an easy way to check! Well, alright, ‘easy’ is probably overstating it somewhat. But we both know the Cave has a wealth of information in its computer... We could sneak in; check it for everything we might be missing in your grand plan, sneak out again... Like we did with the Car.” Lazarus says, hopping up to perch on the window sill. “We could even dump some itching powder into Batman and Robin’s jockstraps. Just to really drive Bruce and whatshisname to distraction.”
Jason taps the frame of his laptop in lieu of an answer. The idea’s not a bad one. Sneaking into the cave, that is, not the itching powder. It’d be a fairly decent test of his skills, he’d get more up to date information, especially on the big players on the scene; and maybe he could pick up a few antidotes and gadgets while he’s there. Jason really misses the gadgets.
He stares at a blank spot on the wall, a crack nearby creeping up the plaster and the peeling paint. It’s not the worst place Jason’s ever stayed in; that prize goes to the alleyway behind Dini’s Diner; no, this place is almost nice and cosy by crime alley standards. And yet, it’s run down, tired, the wear and tear starting to show after decades of no maintenance. It’s as unloved as Jason feels.
The neon lights flash through the cheap, crappy curtains Jason had pulled closed in an effort to shut out even the slimmest possibility of seeing Batman and Robin swing past. The thin cotton does nothing to block out the sirens, car horns and drunken ranting on a Saturday night, though.
It’s a stark contrast to his room in the Manor. That room was always quiet unless Jason played his music. The curtains blocked out all the city lights in the distance. It was always cared for, not just by Jason, but by Alfred and his weekly ‘tidy up’. No dust would pile up there, no cobwebs would be formed by spiders with a constant supply of food.
No, Alfred made that place of near overwhelming comfort and opulence a home, with his steady presence, and the promise of a warm kitchen and a cup of tea always ready and waiting. More than anything else about the Manor, Jason misses Alfred. So much so, that Jason has to force himself to not think about him at all.
“You could even check in on the old boy.” Lazarus says, softer, almost hesitant. “I’m not saying you should see him, not if you don’t want to; but we both know you’ve been wanting to see how he’s doing.”
Jason bites his lip. The urge to check in on Alfred strikes at the worst times. Usually after Lazarus has made some long uninterrupted monologue, while Jason’s been focused on work. Something about the way Lazarus talks reminds Jason of Alfred. Not just the language, but the hint of something in his accent; the tang of English in his English. It should be out of place, considering the Lazarus pit Jason was dunked in was out in the Middle East somewhere, possibly Nanda Parbat, but Jason’s never bothered to ask Talia exactly where she’d kept him back in the day; but it isn’t. Ra’s speaks English with the tones of an upper class Brit; that Lazarus does too isn’t that weird, Jason supposes.
Batman’s not in the country, Jason knows that. The pretender is out in San Francisco, and Nightwing’s in Bludhaven. Batgirl is a mystery that Jason needs to investigate, but he’s heard she’s in San Francisco, too. The cave should be empty. And possibly vulnerable, given Jason’s knowledge of the place. It’s tempting.
Too tempting.
Fuck damn it.
Jason’s going to go, isn’t he? He’s going to sneak in, pillage the computers for intel, snag some antidotes to fear gas, joker venom, and sex pollen, and some gadgets.
Jason pulls on his gear and heads to his bike.
He doesn’t need to look behind him to know that Lazarus is skipping behind him, and that it’s probably grinning ear to ear with the disturbing, distorted, reflection that passes for its face.
***
“Really, boy, you do take me to the best places.” Lazarus sighs. “I don’t know what I expected. You called it a cave, and it’s certainly that. A cave.”
It’s undeniable that they’re in a cave. The only real concession to this being a workplace is that there’s a flat floor. The walls are all naturally formed, there’s water dripping in remote, dark, places. Even over the hum of the electricity that keep the population of bats away from the hardware and computers, the soft splash of water can be heard. The steps down to the dock that houses the boat and submarine inside the cave is lost to the shadows at the far side away from the stairs down from the Manor proper, and the med bay.
There’s a chill in the air, a dampness that only comes from being below ground. It makes the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stand up. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be down here. The sensation of wet grave dirt clinging to him and worms and bugs crawls over his skin. Jason clenches his fists, and forces himself to shake the feeling off. He has a job to do. He needs to focus on that and then get out of here as quickly as possible.
“A hole in the ground. A damp, dank hole. Not even a hobbit hole!” Lazarus rambles on, walking over to the life-size animatronic Tyrannasaurus Rex, and the giant penny that Bruce took as trophies years ago. “And there are actual bats. This is a bat cave. A literal bat cave. For Batman. This is so on the nose, I’m almost embarrassed for him.”
Jason ignores Lazarus. He makes a beeline for the computer. He knows the backdoors into the system, but for old times’ sake he tries his old login first.
It works.
It shouldn’t work. What the fuck, Bruce?
Jason shrugs off all the questions that immediately spring to mind over the fact Bruce hasn’t removed Jason’s authorisations from all the systems. Sure, Jason had used the generic one-time code that Bruce gives to a select few allies to gain access into the Cave, but that’s a one and done... Could he use his own codes to gain access at any time? Surely Bruce would notice. Wouldn’t he?
Or would he? Jason’s not sure what’s worse. The implication that Bruce didn’t care enough to remove him from the Cave systems or that he couldn’t bear to.
Either way, for now, it’s Jason’s gain. He goes through all the files he can think of, copying them. He dismissively glances at the Pretender’s file, copying it with a sigh. He opens Nightwing’s with the assumption that there’ll be barely anything new there worth reading.
So, of course, he’s wrong.
Jason can barely believe his eyes as he reads through the highlighted entries.
Dick had beaten the Joker to death.
Dick had beaten the Joker to death for taunting him with Jason.
What the actual fuck.
“Oh my days.” Lazarus breathes over his shoulder. “That’s a turn up for the books. Good for Nightwing.”
Jason grits his teeth. There has to be more to this. He makes sure to copy every single thing in Nightwing’s files. He’s got everything else from the computer he wants, so he covers his traces, erasing any evidence of him being there. But Dick’s files weigh heavily on him as he grabs the gadgets and various sundries he’d come here for.
Even running his hands over the thick suit jacket Alfred likes to wear in the cave on particularly wet days doesn’t keep his thoughts from returning to Dick. As much as Jason wants to go upstairs and see if Alfred’s making tea in the kitchen, he can’t bear to be in the Manor grounds any longer.
Jason flees the scene, gunning his bike faster and faster along the Bristol roads.
Behind him, Lazarus stands on the back of his bike, arms outstretched like he’s about to fly off. No such luck for Jason, though.
“You know, we could check in on dear old Dickiebird.” Lazarus suggests slyly. “You can take a night or two off, see the sights.”
Jason’s plans are for Gotham. He’s not going to leave, he has things to do.
“If your plans are going to fall apart because you took a couple of days off, then your plans need a serious rethink, anyway.” Lazarus points out. “Which they absolutely do. No question. Why not rethink them after a checking on Nightwing?”
Jason really wishes Lazarus would shut up.
Not least because Jason really does want to go and see Dick. He wants to find out what the fuck went on when he was out of Gotham. Because Dick beating someone to death with his bare hands is out of character for him, right? Sure, Dick’s always had a temper, but he’d always strictly kept to Bruce’s no kill rule. Even when Roy Harper, Kori, and Donna have always been more lethal when the situation required it.
Or because he wants to see Dick’s breath-taking smile again.
“Besides, it never hurts to check out the competition.” Lazarus says, resting his gloved hands on Jason’s helmet. “All that organised crime! I’m sure you can pick up some tips.”
Jason revs his bike faster in the hope that Lazarus will topple off the back of his bike, it doesn’t work, but it makes Jason feel better.
“And then you can check out the competition! See if Nightwing’s really as flippy as he used to be. Still wearing those tight little outfits...” Lazarus teases slyly.
Jason snarls angrily at that, a warning. And wonder of wonders, Lazarus actually shuts up.