Jason and Michael got back to the tower a little while afterwards, and Jason barely had time to give him a room on the same floor as the other special recruits and or lieutenants, like Antonio and Floyd, before Lane collapsed on the bed. He wanted to trust the guy, but it still felt wierd to just let him stay there. It felt even wierder coming here, home, when Rose and so many others were still out there.
But, he'd already spoken with her, and while he didn't personally know Croc, his paladins had, and Roy vouched for him. On top of that, Fries had managed to pull it off with the Watchmen, and, somehow, they hadn't been set back by much, and Garret, along with every other new recruit, had been settled in at the Tower. It would all be okay.
Besides. He had a few hundred thousand crusader ghosts to contain, a sword of Godlike power to add to his armory, millennia of info to catalogue, and a training regimen to plan out.
He started off with the equipment. The suit of sorrows was okay, as long as you didn't use it, as was the sword of salvation, so he just fit both into a steamer trunk. They'd both spent decades at the time in old ruins or on corpses. A little unglamorous treatment wouldn't hurt the artifacts. He put the trunk in his armory, though. He felt better having some concrete between him and that damned armor.
He then focused on the cataloguing. It wasn't hard to seperate the historical info found in the small library into two seperate series of documents, thanks to the fact that the books themseleves already did so. He couldn't read the tomes just yet, he didn't have time for that, bookworm as he may've been, but he'd get to it, when he had some spare time.
The final document he made, sitting at his bar, using the holographic projections from his helmet on the countertoo as an interface, was the priest, Father William Hafu's memoir. The priest was old enough to have served in WW2 as a 16 year old as an Irish-Japanese American, and had started his archive when he became a higher up in The Order of Purity at age 33, so there was a lot of info to go though there. Jason though, after organizing, knew what he was looking for.
He'd destroyed the Order of Saint Dumas alongside Ra's and the entirety of the League of Assassins around three years ago now, so everything from then on.
3 Years Ago
Willy Hafu was in a meeting with fellow clergymen of the Order, and he couldn't understand why they were celebrating. The Al Ghuls had wiped out their sister order, all in the span of a couple days, and somehow, that fact not only didn't horrify them, they were laughing about it. He wanted to get up, to shout at how unchristian and how incredibly stupid the whold lot of them were being, but he needn't have bothered.
Grandmaster Brigham Whitsup, an ancient man who'd served the Order since even Willy had been a child, slammed his fist down on the huge table, silencing them all. He then spoke.
"We will remember our cousins as what they were, dangerously diluted and misguided. Not evil, not worthy of scorn. As for the assassins...we will be vigilant where our fellow order was not. Brother William, send some men to any sites we know of, to recover anything we can.", he said, before standing, "And should any of you ever laugh at the deaths of fellow children of god in front of me again, I will throw you from this room, just as Christ threw the merchants from our father's temple. Now go read the bible. Apparently, you all still have not."
1 year ago
Will was getting worried. While the grandmaster told them that it was mearly a one time event, William had never seen the meeting room in the Vatican so empty.
They still didn't know what happened at the conclave in Cairo, but it seemed to be the work of demons, real demons. The kind that hadn't been seen since the dark ages. William was being sent to Africa, to investigate rumors of just that with his templars and Abraham.
He was starting to get sick of always being on the front after all these decades of his soldiers being the greatest in the order. It was like being punished for doing your job right.
2 months later
It wasn't just any demon in some puny body. It was Samhein himself, in a body designed for sustaining him.
Will had thought, when told that Lucifer and Satan were not the same, and that the seals were not real, that Samhein was what the faithless believed him to be, some pagan god that christianity had misappropriated, but he was sure of it.
And not only him, so many others of equal strength were here, having been summoned by...someone. Will called in reinforcements from around the Order, he and his forces in Cairo could not do this alone. In better news, he was starting to like Abraham. He, unlike his previous two "Azraels", at least had bite to back up his barking.
4 months later
It had been slaughter, but they'd finally slain the army of the damned, and their masters; the demonic, living images of the seven deadly sins. Now, with them, Samhain and the last of the hell knights all again imprisoned or killed, all that was left to do was face down the army of their old enemies, the Brotherhood of Satanists, and their demonic master.
Then, William and Abraham could avenge the Grandmaster, and finally strike down the demon lord who'd started the invasion, The Cursed Biis.
In some better news, the ghasts and ghosts sealed within the ruins of Whitsup Keep had been dealt with by the team known as "Justice League Dark". Heathens or not, the Order owed them. That action had most assuredly given the grandmaster's soul some peace he couldn't have had otherwise, even in heaven's great halls.
1 Month Later
Two years ago, the Order of Purity was a worldwide organization. Now, after the final attack against Hell's most recent excursion into the mortal plane, Will barely commanded a battalion, and he'd command less by the time the wounded men had finished passing on. Abraham wouldn't stop blaming himself, for "not being a true Azrael". Bullshit.
He'd saved William with the Sword of Salvation. Whether that came at the cost of the Sword of Sin dissapearing, it was no reason to dispare. All he needed was a little help, from brothers of the Order past.
1 week and a half ago
They were down to 15 men, including both Will and Abe, and they'd been pushed by both necessity and the demons remaining back to his old church in Gotham, of all places. It was official. Without the firepower they'd came for, the suit of sorrows, the demons would win, and what little protection they could've one day provided the world against the next invasion of hell would vanish.
Either Abraham would be good enough, or they'd die. Will had faith, in God and his friend. He hoped Abe could say the same. They all did.
Bruce and the others hadn't wanted to stay long, so, with Waylon's permission, the Batwing was called in to bring them back to the manor one by one, the final one of the 9 being Bruce himself. Saying his relictant, Batman brand of "thank you"s to both Waylon and the Outlaws, Bruce hopped into the thin jet from the rocky bay, flying home through the midnight sky to his family.
Once he'd gone, the Outlaws resituated themselves so that they could get proper, well-earned sleep. After all, tomorrow, the truce would probably be off. They couldn't waste what vauable hours they had racing across town, especially with the wounded paladins, like Alexi, most of whom were still unconscious.
Waylon and Rose stayed up, though. She was sitting, cross-legged by the table where her father was laying, having taken off the old man's new mask, as well as the masks of the other Outlaws, and herself.
Sitting there, she just wondered, after 4 years of being on the run with Jason, why she genuinely thought Gotham would be different for them. She loved her boyfriend, but chaos followed the two around, no matter what. So why did sleepless nights and back to back gunfighting still feel so...spiritually taxing?
Waylon had been about to go to sleep, but stopped when he looked over and knew Rose wouldn't. The two hadn't met, but out of professional courtesy and out of pity, he felt he should make her...something to eat. So, he put on a nice gumbo using his generator powered little electric oven.
Once it was done, he made two bowls, placing one in Rose's lap without a word, before sitting down at his small, wooden table, eating. He was done quicker, of course, but she was the first to go for seconds, before sitting down across from hkm at the table, just as he went to get his second bowl, this time coming back with two glasses of sweet tea, handing one to her.
After the two had finished, Waylon put both bowls up. As Rose just sat there, pubbing her stomache through her armor, Waylon went and grabbed a chess board and the pieces to go with it. Continuing to go without a word, the two played chess until right before midnight.
They only stopped because she'd pulled a queen's gambit on him, after which he snapped his king in half, before putting the game away.
Jason had stayed up later than he'd wanted to, but not too late, and he was able to get up around 8. Rose was beside him, but she was still in her armor. He undressed her down to the bodysuit she wore under her armor and no more, before he left the room to get some coffee, almost having a heart attack when he, in nothing but his boxers, came out of his room to see Slade Wilson asleep on his couch and Antonio asleep at his bar. Gonna need a new pot of coffee, huh?
Once he was dressed, he went down a floor, to find Antonio's room, and explain some things to his wife. After hearing the whole story, while still upset, said they would work through it, and that Jason could have a couple Sentinels drag Antonio down. If they took his armor, and drugs, with them when they left.
He then woke up Slade, handing the now casually dressed man a cup of coffee, the two awkwardly sitting together after Slade had risen.
"So...how've you two been?"
"Good, good...new crisis in the relationship only every once in a while."
"Huh...great."
Rose came out of the room with a crash, "JASON, look, okay, he's...what are you doing?"
"Talking."
"O...kay? What?"
"He said we're talking, babe."
"Do you have to? In front of me?"
"Did you have to be here, on my couch, in my home?"
"...point taken. Thank you, by the way, for not leaving me for...whatever. I can't remember."
"Don't mention it."
"Okay, WHAT IS HAPPENING? Why are you two so, so...? Don't say it, either of you."
"We're just-"
"Don't."
"...talking.", the two men then ran, laughing as Rose chased them. She was faster, though, and speared both in the back before they could make it to the door.
The three sat there, laughing together, acting like family for...what had to be the first time for a few seconds. Then, they picked themselves up.
"Look, uh, Slade...if you want, there are empty rooms just a floor down, if you'd like to stay?"
"Sure. Least while I heal up."
"Yeah, tell the guy outside I said to put you one floor down, he'll take care of you. We'll finish catching up in just a minute.
Slade nodded as he walked out, closing the door behind himself, knowing that if he didn't leave he'd have to watch. The two were on each other in a second, Rose diving on top of him.
"Slipped something...in Vic's drink, so...no interruptions...this-"
"Fuck, I love you.", Jason said, taking the top by rolling them both over over.
"Bed...shower?"
"Bed, then shower...then bed."
"Sounds like a plan.", she finished going back to kissing him as she wrapped her legs around his sides and her arms around his neck, making it easy for her boyfriend to pick her up.
She laughed when he kicked open the bedroom door, almost tossing her on the bed so he could rip off what clothes he had on.
Michael was finally awake, and he really wanted out of the damned suit he was in. Problem was, the apartment he'd been given was empty, so he had to go find some new clothes. Thankfully, someone was able to find some clothes that fit him decently, a white t-shirt, jeans, and some lace up combat boots, which he graciously accepted, going back to...his apartment, he guessed, to take off the darker version of the Batsuit, and think about what'd happened.
He didn't remember certain specifics, but what he knew was that he was free...and that he had a new job to do. So long being out of it, Lane thought he'd have a harder time moving on, but for some reason...he was fine. Or, at least, sane once more. Maybe it was that sword Father...Father William had hit him with.
Unluckily for him, though, all he could focus on was this new mission of his, which he knew nothing about. He hadn't even learned what an "Azrael" was, although the name sounded familiar. Maybe it was an angel?
He had too many questions, and almost no answers. What he did know, though, was that when the man from last night who was supposed to train him for...something woke up, it'd be better if he'd taken a shower, so he decided to start there, finally getting off that damned curse of a suit of armor, before getting in.
Once he was out, he looked around the bathroom. Plenty of new necessities, luckily. He'd shaved both his head and face before he really looked over himself over. His brown skin there was marred, just like every part of his body, by scars and blemishes, but it wasn't horrific. Not like the mess that was his back. He brushed his yellow teeth for the first time in...he didn't even know, before finally finshing, and getting dressed.
That side of getting ready for his next meeting with the hallway guards worked for done, Michael made a few sandwiches at his stomach's loud demand. He hadn't noticed how thin he'd gotten.
After eating, he just waited, just trying to put his memories in order.
It wasn't long into the morning before most in Wayne Manor were alseep, all except Bruce, Oliver, Dinah and Roy. Leslie had finally gone to sleep, staying in the guest bedroom, and the rest were out from exhaustion or because they needed to heal up.
Bruce was sitting on his couch, watching the news while Oliver and Dinah, back in the civies they'd shown up in, were in the kitchen talking about their son. Unlike what everyone thought of him, Bruce was no eavesdropper, nor did he think people should value his advice in any area other than detective work, so he focused on the news.
The National Guard was already out of action, but criminals were taking advantage of the situation. Usually, they couldn't pull anything during the day because of cops, and they couldn't pull anything at night because of the bat. Now, before nightfall, they were trying to take advantage of what time they had. The news said that it was no worse than most other major US cities, but still. For Gotham, it was as bad as it could be with no super criminals being in the mix.
The news wouldn't give specifics, but several men had been taken into federal custody as well, for questioning. Bruce could only hope that those brought in included what bad guys weren't killed the previous night.
On unrelated notes, a church across town had been burned to the ground human remains having been found, and there were still no leads on the crimes that ravaged Gotham two days ago, including Roman Sionis's death and the death of the state's senator, although shocking discoveres from interrogations and what records they could find had revealed horrid things about not only those two, but almost every other one of the "innocent" victims of the attacks, and new information just kept coming in.
Roy walked in when the news was about to flip over to the weather, having changed into some of Dick's clothes and readied himself to speak with his adoptive parents.
"Hey, Ollie. Hey, Dinah."
"Hey, Roy."
"So...where should I start?"
"Well...where have you been?"
"You...you really don't wanna know that."
"Then, I guess, uh...how'd you wind up in this town?"
"A friend found me in...in some alley, and they saved me. Brought me back here with them, to detox."
"...Okay...are...", Ollie sounded choked, "Are you okay now, son?"
"I...you know, I...I don't know. I'm off the heroin, but I...I just don't know. Why do you care now, when you didn't a year ago?"
"Roy!"
"Dinah, I lost my wife! I lost my daughter! And where was he? Huh?"
"I was looking for Promethius!"
"What about after that? I spent months of being on that shit, and where the hell were you!?"
"Looking for you every second I could without getting civilians killed! It's not like I had a tracker on you! Me, Dinah, Cheshire, we looked everywhere for you, son! Now just calm down, alright. I'm here now, I-"
"Ollie and me just want to help you, Roy."
"...I'm sorry.", Roy whimpered, after which Bruce guessed the three embraced. Giving them some time, Bruce eventually got up, walking into his kitchen.
"So, Roy. This friend that saved you...he wouldn't happen to be the guy trying to take over the criminal underground of my city, would he?"
"I...I can't tell you, Bruce."
"You don't have to, Roy. I think I just got it.", he said, setting down his coffee and grabbing a shovel from the pantry, and walking to the door. "Don't let him leave if he tries." was all the man said, before walking outside. Straight to the Wayne Family Graveyard, ready to exhume the body of his second son, Jason Peter Todd.
He needed to know.
Having cleaned up after some particularly breathtaking morning sex, Jason and Rose were laying in bed. Jason was smoking, a bad habit she only let him keep because she shared it and because both their bodies could take the strain. And because he always brought up the valid point that if she cared that much about his safety, she should put him in cryo stasis, as that was the only way he'd stop being a moron. Passing the cigarette to her, he couldn't take his mind off an idea he'd first gotten into his head about a year ago, and hadn't been able to shake.
So, not moving too much so as not to disturb the woman on his arm, Jason reached his other arm over, and pulled a small black box out of his nightstand, deciding that their lives had been chaotic for years, these past few days had been nothing new or overly tragic. He held the box up between the two, looking at Rose, seeing her immediate shock, and then, her dismissal.
"Jason, I told you-"
"You said stop asking when I'm drunk. Guess what? Sober."
"Maybe there's nothing in your system, Love, but you're still very drunk."
"Maybe. But I've been drunk on you since we met, Love, that isn't changin'."
"That was cheesy."
"That was the truth, Babe. This isn't just because what just happened or because of anything else. This is cause I love you, and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me, Rose."
"I love you too. But my dad is downstairs and yours is probably on his way to kick your ass. Now is not the time for a wedding."
"I'm not saying we need to go get it done right now. I'm asking you to marry me at some point."
"No your not, your telling me to."
"Okay.", he said, getting up and kneeling down in front of her, her still on the bed, "Rose Wilson...will you marry me?"
"...yes, you dork-"
Jason jumped back onto the bed, hollering in joy. Laughing at him, she continued.
"Okay, show me what my ring looks like, Fiancee."
It was beautiful, and obviously custom made. It had an emerald gemstone with what looked like a silver base, along which was a latin inscription. Amor aeternus.
Once she'd finished her gasping, she put it on her ring finger, for which it was a perfect fit. She smiled for a few more seconds before asking Jason what the latin ment. She felt even happier at his answer, as he whispered it in her ear.
"Eternal Love."
It was the middle of the day when Dick woke up to a completely empty house. Even in the batcave, no signs of life. It was only when he went to the living room and looked out the window when he saw the crowd of everyone, al in civies, all hudled around Bruce, who...
Dick was out of the door in a second, running straight for his little brother's grave.
"Are you all out of you motherfucking MINDS?!?"
"Dick, he-"
"I don't wanna hear it Barbara. Alfred! Bruce! What the hell are you digging him up for?"
"Because, Roy won't tell us out of loyalty, but I know...I know he's alive. And I know who he is."
Dick looked over to Roy, who was standing there, silently. Oliver and Dinah right behind him.
Soon, Dick had returned with another shovel, making sure neither one broke something based on one of Bruce's wild theories. Soon after that, he and Alfred got out of the now dug out grave, Bruce looking to the sky, as if readying himself, before he popped open the wooden coffin. Only to expose the dead figure of a small, battered boy.
"Well? See?"
"That's not him."
"What? Of course-"
"His body would practically be skeletal be now. And the hair would be gone. This...this isn't Jason."
Dick and the others besides Bruce and Roy were standing in either stunned silence or in horrifying acceptance when Bruce climbed out of the coffin, snatching Roy away from his parents, whom protested but couldn't stop him without escalating things. He dangled him over the fake gravesite.
"I had to see Jason when he was actually like this. I had to see my son DIE! Now you look at me, as a fellow father, and you tell me I didn't have a damned RIGHT to KNOW!"
"I've only known for a couple days, most of which I was asleep for, man, I..."
"BULLSHIT EXCUSES FROM A DAMNED HEROIN ADDICT!"
"Master Bruce! Stop.", Alfred said, pulling him off of Roy and back from the ledge. Bruce then stormed off, leaving the others to feel pity for or shun Roy.
"Where are you going?"
"To find my son."
"You don't know where he is."
"No, but I do have a pretty good beat on Red Hood. He will have to do. Stupid, so stupid. As if he could been more on the nose.", the prince of Gotham grumbled, grabing his coat and heading out to the garage.
Soon, he was driving, alone and as patiently as he could, headed to the tower he'd built for Jason after his death, and the tower he knew had become his home since...since returning from the grave.
His son had died, he knew it. He'd held lifeless body in his arms, run DNA tests, had asked Doctor Fate himself. His son was dead. So how in the hell was he back? And was his return a gift, or a curse?
Bruce had only taken with him a batclaw, but that was more than enough. He went across the street from the tower to the roof of an old apartment building, the tallest one of the surrounding buildings that allowed him to see inside the walled off entrance, which was patrolled by men in uniform, most likely members of the Outlaw gang, but none noticed him at his perch.
About three minutes of waiting later, he turned, to see his son, Jason, dressed in a black and red suit, minus the jacket or tie, leaning against the door he had come through on his way up.
"So...what's up, Old Man?"
Jason had been prepared for his dad to do many different things when they had finally met up again. Look like he was gonna cry, and pull him into a rib crushing hug wasn't one of them. Same goes for what he said as he did so. Calling him a murderer, yelling that he'd broken the code, whatever, Jason thought he was prepared. Then Bruce, through what sounded like tears, spoke a sentence that Jason never thought he would hear his dad say, not in a million years.
"I've missed you so much, son."
"I...I missed you too, dad. Come on. I...I think it'd be best if we talk this through over some lunch, back at the manor. If I can bring someone along with me?"
"Sure son. Who did you have in mind?"
"My fiancee, Rose."
If any words could've stunned Bruce by that point, those words did so. But, somehow, the three of them were soon headed back to the manor. Rose was coming to back Jason up in any way she could. Jason was going to try and explain things to everyone. He owed them that, at least. And, of course, to take Roy back to the tower, if that is what his friend wanted.
So yeah. Demonic invasions, fallen ancient orders, sappy family moments. You know, the usual. And, yes, I know this has pretty much ballooned into a remaking of several stories, but nobody ever accused me of thinking small, so don't expect these other, huge subplots to just go nowhere or be made into a different stories.