Jason shook off the bullet, but the impact said bullet made him have (straight into solid brick) wasn't so easy to shake off. He was fine, though, thanks to his armor. So he kept moving beind them. They all ran down the stairs the same way they'd come in, eventually making it back down to the lobby.
Katie, the receptionist was thankfully gone, so they could talk openly before rushing out into the mass off helicopter lights that was the neighborhood at the moment.
Bruce was already giving out orders. "Alright. Jim, Barbara, these cops, they can stay here, tell the National Guardsmen what happened. Red Hood, what's the plan for you and your men?"
"The manhole cover right...where's Arsenal?", he said, just now realizing they were a man short in addition to the handful of men who were down, being carry/dragged by their friends.
When Green Arrow rushed forward, fear in his eyes, Black Canary behind him, Jason stopped the both of them.
"No! No, they need medics. I can go get him. Bat, Yin there knows the way out, gotta go through the sewers and meet up with a friend of ours. Alexi, lead them out, I'm gonna go get Arsenal."
"Ja-"
"No. Rose. I can't just leave without him, and none of you can help now without possibly dooming these guys. Now go, get all of them out.", as he gave her a hug, before walking away. He was about to run when he heard Spoiler behind him.
"Hey, Red! Might could use this.", she said, tossing Jason a batclaw. Jason took it with a nodd before sprinting back to the staircase. Jason had one, sure, but it was dropped in the chaos just a couple minutes ago. Aiming for the top floor, Jason grappled straight up the staircase in about 10-12 seconds, rushing through the door to the top floor.
From what he saw through the hallway windows, someone, either Outlaws or the Bats, had remotely shut off power to the entire neighborhood, the only lights being those attached to the rifles that the guardsmen outside were using, or the ones attached to their helicopters.
Now, what you had to know about the Gotham State National Guard, is that they really hate vigilantes. Everytime they were called in, Jason as Robin had gotten a taste of what Bruce felt those first couple months when the police wouldn't stop trying to kill him, right up until Harvey Dent, the DA, Jim Gordon, a police lieutenant at the time, and Batman had all made their rooftop pact to help each other save the city.
Forever unofficially siding the GCPD with the Bats, at least, once he'd made police commissioner.
That was why these guys could not find Roy. Proof or no proof he was behind it, they'd take him in or cap him. And that's why Jason was ecstatic that he found Roy in the room, even if he wasn't ecstatic about the bow and arrow in his face when he walked through the door. Roy recognized him, though, so he quickly put the bow away, apologizing.
"That's fine, Roy. Now, we gotta get moving. We can't be here when they come along, asking if anyone's seen anything. Let's go, come on."
"What's the plan?"
"We gotta get to the King's motel. It's outta the search perimeter they're gonna set up, and we'll be safe there."
"Prince, then King. I'm seeing a theme here, Jay."
"So does Bruce by now, most likely. Now, let's go.", he said, locking the door as the two went to find a window leading the other direction before the National Guard could box them in completely.
Yin Zhang, a chinese sharpshooter and scout back when she first met the Outlaws, was not accustomed to dragging people through the sewers, but she was accustomed to traipsing through them, had been since she'd been a young woman, back as far as 1976. Out of all of them, American sewers were by far not the best, nor the worst.
So, as she stubbled beside her old friend and fellow Paladin, Alexi, while dragging on of her other brothers or sisters, she couldn't help but feel that the uncharacteristically shallow piss and shit they were all trudging through had to have been a sign from Lakshmi that it would be okay from there on out.
At least until she heard the tell tale noise of a flash flood coming, and, much to everyones dismay, yelled for them all to run from the noise, straight to the closest ladder. She got everyone, concious or not above and, being hit by some of the disgusting torrent on the way up, came up behind them, in the middle of a back alley across town from their territory, only half way to the cave they were headed to.
Alexi, who had his hands on his knees, taking a breath, began talking before she could.
"We need to get closer, then go down. We can move on foot for a...for a minute. Come on.", he said, cutting across a parking lot and hopping the fense before continuing down another hallway.
Jim was just arriving at Gotham General with the other cops and Barbara when they got the news that many other cops were following behind them. A fleet of ambulances were bringing what was practically half the damned police force behind them.
Jim knew what this meant, immediately. That while the mayor wouldn't let the new governor hand over policing to the Guardsmen, these coming days would be hard ones, for sure.
Unless he had help, particularly like the knid he could get from that middle eastern man, Xavier's syndicate. Gordon hadn't asked a non-vigilante criminal for help in many years, but at this point, even that seemed like a good idea.
But for now, he pushed those thoughts from his mind, and walked quickly behind Barbara as the doctors loaded her on to top of one of the couple dozen gurneys the huge hospital staff had ready on the curb, putting on a fuss when they acted like the bullet in his thigh was important enough to separate him from his baby girl when she looked like a living corpse.
Jason and Roy were almost to the King's when they had to change plans. Now, a disturbance at Wayne Manor demanded they get there and check up on the only two people there, Alfred and Leslie.
Jacking the car with the biggest trunk they could, the two decided that Jason would just stay in the trunk, that Arsenal would dumb down his costume a bit, hid his weapons with Jay, and, if stopped, just say he was headed to a costume party dressed as Red Arrow.
Once they were almost to the manor, having sped the entire way there, Roy slowed down to rearm himself and let Jason back into the front seat. In a matter of seconds, they'd gotten through the gate and were out, Jason opening the door with Arsenal, bow and arrow at the ready, behind him.
Once he did, however, no one was there, meaning something really was wrong, considering they both chose to be in the Batcave. Sure, Alfred could've been watching over the computer, but probably no better than he could on the news and Leslie couldn't stand being in the cave unless she had to be. So, racing down the hallway quick enough that he almost splintered an open door while heading to the opened entrance to the Batcave at the end.
Once the two got to said entrance, Jason almost fell down the staircase heading to the two they were lookjng for. Alfred was sitting on the ground, beat up, double barrel next to him, while Leslie was kneeling over him, putting alcohol on his face. The two were startled, by quickly recognized Arsenal as Red Arrow, so they were calmed by that, at least.
"I heard you called the cops about a...a home invasion sir?"
"While I do not know how you knew that...Red Hood? Yes, I thought as much, I...I'm glad your here. Something has been stolen from down here, a suit."
"A suit...an armor suit? Lik-"
"Not just any armor. Armor powerful enough that it could prove to give birth to a bigger problem than any we have yet seen. I've overheard you have some experience with the League of Assassins? What about the Order of Saint Dumas, or, more specifically, an offshoot of them, known as the Order of Purity?"
"We...uh, we ain't exactly on good terms, but, I do know a bit about 'em. Roy, can you go seal that door?" He said, to which Roy replied with a rasberry as he ran off to do as asked.
"Uh...well, a man from their organization just broke in here, taking advantage of the chaos, and stole an artifact I'm guessing you know about...the suit of sorrows."
The two couldn't see it, but at hearing that, Jason's eyes widened in fear.
Victor Fries was going crazy at the tower, what with all the juggling he was having to do, keeping the city from imploding. Messengers ran in and out every minute, calls kept coming in or going out.
All in all, the staff there, the "Watchmen", that Jason had been trying to put together for situations like these wasn't yet experienced enough. They were managing, but just barely, to keep the city in order and the territory they'd earned their territory.
Tim had gotten some sporadic shut eye throughout the day, but that didn't prepare him for lugging two of his children around the city. Thankfully "Yi" (who he'd guessed to be Chinese and a woman by now, at lwast by her sort of understandable voice) had finally gotten them to another sewer, meaning that they might be killed by shit water again. GREAT.
Alfred was asleep in his room now, Leslie taking care of him. Jason shut the door on the possibly-a-couple duo, before turning to Roy.
"Roy, this can't keep happening. Now, I-"
"Go get whatever that was that got stolen, Jay. I'll lock this place down, keep 'em safe. Even if it means actually giving Ollie that explanation."
"Alright. If I don't see you again for a while, thanks. Nice to see an old friend who...who gets it, ya know?"
"Yeah, I do, man. And hey! Take care of yourself, Jaybird."
"You too, Roy.", with that, Jason ran out, hopping back into their stolen car, speeding away to look for this crusader and his masters before they had a new, unhinged Azreal to deal with on top of everything else.
An hour of bleeding and possible disease had passed, before they finally came across what they were looking for, the cave of Killer Croc, or, as he was now back to calling himself, Waylon Jones.
It was off the beaten path, in the black zone where the city no longer kept maintenance running on the sewage tunnels.
Waylon had been trying to help people ever since the "No Man's Land" incident with the earthquake a while back, being inspired by Leslie Tompkins to try out practicing medicine, and offering his services to old friends. It wasn't a well known thing, and Matt hadn't yet talked to him about it, but, if he had guessed right from all the claw marks, that's where they were headed.
Yin knew they were getting close, judging by the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves getting closer.
They finally made it to the end of the long, circular brick "hall"; a metal grate with a door for easy access to and from the cave that used to be a sewer run off. Even from where she stood, she could make out the large cave. The sea was splashing on rocks, there was a lighthouse in the distance. The cave was wide, but there was no clear indication anyone lived there, right up until Waylon jumped down from his perch above the tunnel, having smelt her.
The humanoid reptile was dressed in simple slothes, a large t-shirt and a pair of grey overalls with some work boots. He was similing, about to ask what the few of them were doing here, when he noticed two things that shook him. First, despite what the Red Hood had said, they'd led Supers directly to him. Second, thoose supers as well as Yin and Alexi were all either injured or physically drained. He quickly opened the door.
"Come in, come in! Jesus, what happened?"
"Lotsa shit, Croc.", Matt said, chuckling as he dragged a couple paladins behind him, letting loose his real form as soon as they had enough space.
"Go, tell me later.", he said, pointing to the small wooden structure off to the side, impossible to see from the entrance. He closed the door before jogging back to the front, opening the door to his hodgepodge stormshack-clinic, rolling up his sleeves while leading them to the few beds he had.
Telling Matt and the others like Yin who were just exhausted to wait outside as to not cram his work space, Waylon quickly got the actually injured people, including Selina, Huntress, and a few of the Red Hood's crew all laid out on beds. The last two, though, Bane and Alexi had to be laid down on a table and his couch, respectively.
Waylon, only a so-so sawbones, wouldn't have been able to do this, but he had help, from Green Arrow, Black Canary, and the couple others who'd had medical training. Besides, the worst injury was a gunshot wound in Alexi's side, nothing too life-threatening.
After they had all been treated he invited the rest to come inside, even if they had to sit on the floor.
"You're all welcome to stay for any time you need. But, uh...I don-"
"I already knew about this place, Jones."
"What? I figured-"
"You haven't been killing. I guess I kinda know why now, but...I was gonna wait until I did know, before I confronted you. If I did, which...I don't really feel like doing now. Unless you wanna fight?", the Bat explained, never looking up from Kyle.
"Not at all. Thank you I...uh. I guess I owe you one."
"She's been bleeding out in alleyways across town until now. You owe me nothing, Waylon."
"Well, take the floor at least. For what time you need it. I'll, be in my room, if ya'll need anything.", the man said, going into the back room to catch a little shut eye. None of 'em would sleep in my bed noway.
Michael Lane was running, fighting, falling within his mind and in reality.
In his mind, he was running from what he had become. In reality, he was running from men with large guns and the flames that consumed the building he worked in a long time ago.
In his mind, he fighting what he'd become, what that damned dead doctor had turned him into. In reality, he was fighting another goon every five seconds, as he raced through the city.
In his mind, he was falling from what grace he had, having given into the fact that the only reason he was alive was to kill the Dark Knight, and he had failed even to do that. And in reality, Michael Lane was falling back into faith, literally, jumping through a stained glass window of some church, trying to hide.
Both from reality, and from his own mind.
He didn't even look around the dark basement he was in, he barely took the time to snatch the helmet and the cape off himself before collapsing into the fetal position, crying into his gloved hands in the middle of the room as rain began to fall softly through the window he'd broken behind him. He didn't care. He cried so hard, he didn't notice when he lost consciousness.
He regained it soon, though, when a bolt of lighting hit close enough that the ex-marine shot up, looking around. But when he looked outside, he realized there was no way that what he'd heard had been a lightning bolt, as outside, it wasn't but barely raining, and there was no thunder. Bolt that loud, it would still be making noise.
Just as Lane was considered risking detection by looking through the window, a brilliant white light came through the floorboards of the attic which was before then only lit by his entrance and the stained glass artwork all over the rather large chruch. It was white, and was as bright as having a flashlight shown in your eyes, and after three seconds it was gone. Lane, not knowing what was happening, ran to the corner and hid behind some boxes, hoping the darkness would actually hide him.
The light kept flickering on and off for a second at a time, even as a priest who looked familiar to Michael came through the door, followed by men in what looked like the armor of crusaders.
They had great red crosses on white tunics and swords on their backs, just like old pictures he'd seen growing up. They had big, brown belts, brown fingerless gloves, and chainmail armor going up their arms, before dissapearing beneath their white clothes. This chain mail was also on their legs, seemingly stopping inside their brown boots. They each had a hood, but they were all down, and while they also had bolt action rifles along their backs, for some reason, the 6 all drew their greatswords instead, turning on the wooden hatch that lead to the stairs they'd just run through.
As the light flashed a final time, the priest got out what looked like the handle to a sword, and just before Lane could wonder what good that would do, the priest closed his eyes and a white blade errupted from the handle, lighting up the attic. The crusaders still did not notice Lane, but, out of the corner of his eye, the priest did.
The priest (who Lane now realized to be Father William from he still went to church, before the death of his wife and son, making this his childhood church) was about to say something when the hatch exploded into splinters, as a smaller man than any of the crusaders walked up the stairs.
This man was dressed even stranger than the others. He, essentially, looked like if you took the crusader esthetic of the 6 men, combined it with a batsuit. Even stranger, though, was that the man's eyes. They were lit up like spotlights, with the same brilliant, white brightness as had shined through the floorboards earlier.
The man in the strangest armor stopped at the top of the staircase, and spoke with an echoey manner, that made it sound like Lane was hearing a hundred voices instead of one. They all spoke in a language the Lane recognized as church latin, but he couldn't understand them.
"Quo nomine vocatur Jerusalem, haereticus reputandus?"
"Abraham, you are-"
Before the Father William could finish his sentence, the man in the cowl's eye had flashed even brighter, causing Lane to look away. When he looked back up, two of the cruseders were dead, one of their swords falling by where Michael was huddled. The other four advanced, yelling as they did, but the figure in Batman's armor just put his fists through two of them, ripping out their hearts, before dropping said organs to the flpor as the other two advanced, using their pincer formation on either of his sides to trick them into stabbing one another witb an effortless dodge. He took a couple steps forward, as if he was about to do the same to the older, Sino-scotish priest when Lane yelled out no, distracting the figure, before the largest of the stained glass windows shattered, lightning actually flashing this time around, behind the silhouette of an armored figure that looked vaguely familiar to Michael, although he couldn't actually think of why.
The Bat-Crusader then focused on the mysterious man in red armor and a leather jacket, and repeated his question. This time, however, nobody answered. This time, as the priest put himself between Lane and the man he'd called Abraham, the Figure in Red got into a fighting stance, before large, wide blades made of fire came out of his gloved hands, startling not only the two in the corner, but Abraham, as well. The man visibly took a step back, mouth open as a hundred voices gasped at the sight, in reverance.
"Azrael forti, parce mihi!", Abraham said, dropping to one knee, right fist over his chest.
"Tempus requiem, Templarii."
"...intellex-...", Abraham looked up, as if realizing something, before he charged forward, flashing blinding light. This didn't seem to effect the man with the fiery blades, however, but the man also was unable to do damage back, his blades doing next to nothing as he dippped and dodged, struggling to avoid the now outraged Abraham's arms.
The priest turned to him and raised the white blade. Lane, not understanding, flailed around, ready to die, but when the blade hit him, it went straight through. The second it did, Lane saw every bad thing he'd ever done. Knocking out his coach for finding his steroids, having to kill kids overseas, drinking while his wife commited sucide after the death of their son, allowing that doctor to turn him into a monster like the other two, and so many others. Seeing those things, being forced to confront them, he immediately sought redemption, he needed it. No, not just redemption, salvation. So, he grabbed the greatsword by his feet, and, without a word, he and Father William rushed to aid the man in Red against his opponent.
After a short scuffle, and with their help, the man was able to deliver a killing blow, putting one of his gaunlets straight through the exposed chin of the man, although said blade didn't go through the cowl on the other side. The man deactivated his blades, making them vanish as the other hit the ground with a thud.
Jason knew that the fight would be difficult, but he'd thought he could save the priest. But, looking up from the man in the suit of sorrows, Jason saw the hand the Father had placed on hid side, turning off the sword of salvation. The older, half asian man groaned as his knees wobled, causing the two younger men to take either side of them as they laid him down.
Jason saw, he'd knicked an artery and the priest had a heart condition that was flaring up. He was dead already.
"Damnit...I...we were the last...ones. Maybe that's for the best. Even while...tryin to do better we just...couldn't help but unleash evil, could we.", The priest said before taking Jason's hands in his own.
"Listen...this boy...he came here. Here. That tells me he has faith, true faith, unlike Abraham. Please. The Order dies with me, as it's predecessor did with Grandmaster Jacob...Please, make him better. Make him Azrael."
"I will try, Father."
"Good...Michael...please...be better, my child."
"I...I will, Father."
"Good. Then I can...be...at...", the Father said, the life leaving his eyes, his head in the now crying Michael Lane's knee.
Once the Father had met eternity, Jason sat there for a moment. Bruce would be contemplating the promise he had made, but all Jason could think about was that a priest had just died, in his own sanctuary. A priest that Jason had already written off as just like those at the Order of Saint Dumas, who'd killed Jean-Paul just for choosing a teenage Jason and a pregnant Thalia Al-Gual over some mystical road spike that they thought could've maybe been one of the nails that had pierced Christ's body way back when.
After a few moments he stood up, and offered Michael a hand, which he took.
"We both made promises that we need each other for. I'm game for my half. What about you?"
"I'm game. Now what the hell is an Azrael?"
"I'll tell you later. If you're gonna be one though, you'll eventually need that suit. Take it off that asshole, I'll be right back."
Jason then went downstairs, walking past several more priests and templars of the Order of Purity, looking for anything he could about the sword of sin, or just who had taken out the rest of the Order, according to the father upstairs. The League of Assassins had been enemies, sure, but when Thalia rebranded them as the League of Shadows after Ra's died by Jason's blade, she promised that old enemies and rivals wouldn't carry over if she could help it.
At least not to the extents of "wipe them out, down to the last man".
Looking in the man's office, Jason found his answer in the form of the man's massive journal. And yes massive, as in, the book was almost half as tall as Jason and incredulously thick, filled in almost to the last page in latin. Quickly scaning it page by page, not being able to read it just yet, Jason saw a name that explained the destruction.
Carlton LeHah. The man known for killing Azrael's father along with a lot of the actually good leaders of the Order of Saint Dumas. Apparently, he'd really summoned the demon lord he'd been posing as for years. Killing him with the sword of salvation had proven "Abraham" to be a worthy wearer of the suit of sorrows and the mantle of Azrael, and he was sent to steal it. Unfortunately for these guys, killing a demon isn't the same thing as proving yourself to be of strong faith, and the suit overcame him, right before Jason could show up.
Finishing up on his copying of the journal, Jason closed the book back, before looking around the room he'd found it in. It was filled with other books, too, along shelves that led to the journal and back through the secret entrance to the office. 62, in all, telling the true history of both orders, from their founding until now. Jason couldn't resist, so he kickly copied all 62 volumes of history into his database before heading back up, finding Lane situating the bodies of the eight men so that each was laying on his back, holding his sword down like a cross. All except for the priest and Abraham, who simply had their hands together over their hearts. He was kneeling over the Father, shaking, when Jason put his hand on his shoulder.
"The most you can do now is what you promised. Now, go grab that armor, and let's get outta here.", he said. Michael nodded, knowing he was right.
In the future, if Lane acts too much like either his comic version or Jean Paul did, please let me know. I don't want either of those things happening.