Chapter 1
Drops of rain on a window. Steps on the ceiling, from the flat above. Irregular burst of voices from people arguing. A door being slammed; the muffled shock of something being thrown against a wall without breaking.
Cars, with some honking from time to time, and heels shrieking. A siren, far away; not an ambulance, it sounded more like GCPD.
The noises were eerily familiar, like only memories could be. Yet, they sounded too real for a dream. Jason didn't move just yet, checking himself first. He didn't hurt anywhere, despite feeling a bit dizzy. Maybe he had been drugged?
His wrists weren't bound, though, nor were his ankles. Considering what he could hear, he was above ground, in some kind of flat most certainly. A building from the Bowery or some similar neighborhood, considering the sound insulation – or lack thereof.
He wasn't lying on the ground, either, but on a mattress. It was hard, like he liked them; the kind he usually kept in his safehouses. However, it wasn't on a bed but directly on the ground. No, wait; there was a bed base. That was something.
Have I been sent back through time? Jason wondered for a second, before opening his eyes.
The place was everything he had thought it would be – damp, barely salubrious, with cheap flooring and wallpaper that has seen better decades – except how it wasn't. He hadn't expected the military-grade lock on the door, nor the security at the window, even less the weapons secured on the wall.
He was alone, so Jason slowly sat. Despise the security, he couldn't possibly have been abducted, because who would be stupid enough to lock him in a place stocked with weapons? After a check, he realized he was still wearing his suit from last night.
Right. He had been at a gala – not even an interesting one – and remembered having talked with people, avoided others. He knew he'd headed back home, ready to go to bed, then…
Then he'd woken up.
Alright, first things first. Whatever reason why he had been brought here, it had been as a civilian, so there was a good chance that people wouldn't know about his skills. Maybe this was a setup? If so, GCPD would arrive pretty quickly.
However, he couldn't just exit the place in his suit; not only that would be asking for trouble but people would remember him. If this was indeed a setup – but why weapons, not drugs or something more obvious like a body? – he didn't want anyone to know he was ever there, even if he managed to go before the GCPD arrived.
He removed his suit's jacket and let it fall on the sheets; he'd have to take both with him anyway, not to leave his hair around. There were gloves on the side of the mattress. He took them; they fit perfectly.
That was weird, but it allowed him to open the cupboard. Surprisingly, it was filled with clothes. All his size.
This was becoming weirder by the minute.
He didn't want to take clothes that might be covered in evidence for a murder somewhere, but he didn't really have the choice. They couldn't have prepared so many sets of clothes anyway so he had to take the chance. He grabbed a pair of combat shoes – nice ones, reinforced with metal – and a dark hoodie long enough to cover his belt. He didn't intend to change pants, since he'd switch back to his suit as soon as he'd get to a friendlier neighborhood.
Grabbing a bag, he put the sheets and jacket inside as well as his shoes. Now; the door didn't seem built to prevent someone getting out, only getting in. Nor did the window, but if he didn't want to get noticed, he'd better just use the stairs.
The door opened. No one was waiting for him in the corridor. He went down the stairs – he was on the fourth floor – and reached the streets without problem.
This smelt wrong.
Itchy, he forced himself to use a slow, carefree pace while walking to the nearest station. He winced when he reached it. The place was dirty, with tags from gangs he hadn't seen in years, and others he didn't even recognized. What the hell happened?
Thankfully, the ticket machine still accepted his money, and he got in the first metro back to West Village. There, the difference was even more obvious. Gritting his teeth, he switched back to his suit in the toilets and dropped the bag with the shoes and hoodie in two separated trashes.
Back to street level, he waved for a cab with his most charming smile. He knew his suit was crumpled and his hair all over the place, but people would just think he'd had a long night and had just escaped some girl's flat. He just hoped no journalist would be around to take a picture.
A taxi stopped in front of him. He ignored it to get to the second one – just in case – and slipped inside.
"Where to?" the man asked, not even glancing at him twice.
Things were definitively wrong. Jason decided there was still only one place where he could go. Where he'd most likely get some answers, if nothing else.
"Wayne manor," he ordered.
They were there quickly enough. He left a tip to the driver out of habit, and refused the drivers' offer to stay and be his ride when he'd leave. He waited for him to be gone before climbing the few steps leading to the main entrance, and ring the bell.
Something he hadn't realized to be tense eased when the familiar face of Alfred appeared at the door. He looked tired, but it was him alright.
Then Jason tensed again when he saw Alfred's eyes widen.
"Master Jason?" the butler asked, a bit hesitant.
"It seems so, Alfred," Jason sighed. "Is Bruce home by any chance?"
"He happens to be indeed," Alfred confirmed in a contained tone.
No, not contained. Wary.
Jason's heart dropped.
"Please let him know I'm here and willing to talk," he forced out of his throat, along with a smile that the old butler would easily read as fake. "I'm unarmed," he added, just in case.
Alfred started at him, not moving back to let him in but not slamming the door to his face either. Then he raised an eyebrow.
"Who should I announce, exactly?"
Well, if he wanted to play cards on table, who was Jason to stop him?
"Jason Wayne."
That took a soft breath out of Alfred, but he finally stepped aside. Jason entered the manor, checking for differences – but no. Mostly was exactly as he remembered.
Of course, Alfred didn't leave his side. He obviously had labeled him as a threat and wouldn't leave him alone. Instead, he most probably had called Bruce in a way or another. It was the beginning of the afternoon so if Bruce was at the manor he most probably was checking the latest news in the Cave. He wouldn't have been up for long.
Granted, when Bruce appeared, he was wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The real shock was his face.
"Damn," Jason breathed. "You're old."
Then he took in every other way in which Bruce was different. His face was entirely closed, no emotions showing in a way he had never quite managed while being younger. His eyes were cold ice, not the eyes of a killer but certainly ruthless. His stand was confident, but guarded; he too considered Jason as a threat.
All in all, he was merely missing the cowl. This wasn't Bruce; this was Batman.
Jason straightened, toning down the threat by opening his empty hands.
"My apologies for the intrusion but it looks like I need your help."
"You aren't Jason," Bruce declared.
Jason snorted. Well, that cleared out the time travel possibility, didn't it?
"I'm as much Jason as you are Bruce. But no, I don't think I belong here. Is this still 2016?"
Bruce only answered with a curt nod.
"Then this isn't my Gotham, nor you my Bruce. Considering your stance, I can safely assume that you have more entertaining nights than the average billionaire, however."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. Jason sighed.
"Tranq me if it makes you feel better, but I'm willing to follow whatever security protocols you put in place for those scenarios." He'd rather not – after all this Bruce might be a villain rather than a hero – but he didn't have more easily accessible resources and he wouldn't be able to exit the manor now that he'd come inside. How sloppy of him, not to have checked beforehand. He must have been dizzier than he first assessed.
Bruce was still staring at him. Jason frowned.
"You do have protocols, don't you?"
There was a silence exchange between Bruce and Alfred, before the former relaxed a little bit.
"I do," he admitted at last. "We have encountered other Earths before. Some weren't friendly. Can you quickly summarize your status where you come from?"
Jason rolled his eyes briefly.
"As previously stated, I am Jason Wayne. Heir of Wayne ent. and Bruce Wayne's older brother."
sososo
Notes:
Hellooo~ So I'm not sure where this is going yet, but I've wanted to write about Jason Wayne for quite some time now, so here it is.
I hope you'll enjoy the fic!