Author's Note: Okay! Here we are! A sequel! I've often wondered what the new, Batman-less Gotham is like. Especially with vigilantes who KILL people! (Yes, I know that in the true ending of B:AK, there is some sort of 'nightmare Batman,' but I honestly have no idea what that is so I'm not really going to go into that in this story... UNLESS enough people tell me they want me to include it)
Another reason I'm starting this up is that I'm absolutely FLATTERED by all the attention that the first story received, even after it was finished. It is currently my highest-viewed story. Seriously, you guys rock.
As I just mentioned and as the description says, this is a sequel to my other story The Ghosts of Our Pasts. If you haven't read it, please do before continuing. Otherwise you're going to go through this story like, "... Who dis? ... Who dat? When did what happen?" And nobody likes being clueless.
Rated T for violence and sexual language. There is no written-out explicitly sexual or gore-y content. I don't do that.
Like always, enjoy the story. Feel free to review or PM me feedback.
He was back. Lying on the ground. His legs were gone. They hadn't been cut off or removed; they were just gone. All he could do was drag himself along the floor with his arms, trying desperately to get away from what he knew was coming.
There was nothing but darkness around him. He could barely see his hands as they clawed at the ground. His breathing was sporadic. With every pull, he let out croaky, terrified grunts. Every fiber in his being burned with pain, but he ignored it all. He had to move faster. He had to get away this time. Otherwise it'd come back. It'd get him.
And then, there it was. He heard it. That awful, bone-chilling laugh. It started as a deep, guttural chuckle, and bursted into a booming, gleeful cackle. It was getting louder and louder.
He couldn't help it. He had to look. And just like every time, what he saw filled him with absolute dread. It was coming for him. The soft orange glow from the branding iron moved towards him. The tip was shaped in a 'J,' curved towards the right. It was just enough to illuminate that red, stretched grin next to it. And that was all he could see as he struggled along the floor.
But no matter how frantically he dragged himself, it kept coming closer and closer and closer and closer. It was going to get him this time, every time. The laughter grew louder in his ears until he felt it ringing in his head. Some invisible force suddenly pulled him over onto his back. He saw the grin and the hot light hovering over him. The laughter seemed to come from everywhere in the darkness.
It was like this every time. When the light came flying down towards his face, he couldn't take it anymore. His scream ripped through the darkness.
"Noooooo!"
Cold. He felt cold the moment he woke up. There was a small pain in his chest as his heart raced, like it was trying to break through his ribcage.
The laughing darkness was gone. The orange light and the red grin were gone. He wasn't pinned on the floor; he was lying on his side in the bed. He saw the dim slices of moonlight coming through the blinds, the corner of the pillow, and the wrinkled sheets that fell over the edge of the bed.
Closing his eyes, Jason let out a slow exhale through his nose. He reached up and touched his shoulder. His skin felt cold. The covers were gone. Jason rolled onto his back and sat up. He looked over to the other side of the bed. There they were, the sheets. They were rolled up tightly like a new carpet around the figure at that end. Dark gold hair sprouted from the end of the sheet and draped all over the other pillow.
Not again.
Jason considered reaching over and pulling some of the sheets back, but he knew it would be no use. When the blanket thief strikes, she doesn't relent. Those sheets were wrapped tighter than a cast.
He felt beads of sweat glide down his temple. His heart was still beating fast. A little bit of fear still lingered in his mind. He thought about waking her up so he wouldn't feel so alone, but decided against it. He shouldn't need to bother her just because of a stupid nightmare.
Jason got out of bed, careful not to shake the mattress too much. He stepped out of the bedroom, silently shutting the door behind him, and walked into the kitchen. He reached for the light switch and flicked it up. The kitchen lights remained dark. Just for good measure, he flipped the light switch a few more times before giving up.
Not again.
He let out an exasperated groan. The fucking electricity was out again. No doubt something was busted in the fuse box downstairs. And because management for this complex was so considerate, it'd probably take them only a few goddamned days to repair it.
Whatever. He didn't need the lights. He walked over to the kitchen sink and picked up the empty glass that sat next to it. Holding the glass under the tap, he watched the water slosh against the interior of the cup before slowly filling up. He waited until about a quarter of the glass was filled. Then he threw his head back and downed it all in one go.
Jason let out a little huff of air as he slammed the glass back down on the counter. It clinked rather loudly, but remained in one piece. He turned the tap back on and stooped over the sink. His hands cupped the water, and then threw it onto his face. When he did so, he felt his fingertips scrape against it. That scar. It was the harsh reminder that the orange light and red grin had once been more than just a recurring nightmare. He reached for the stream again and splashed on more water.
He shut the tap off and leaned down, resting his arms against the edges of the sink. He breathed quietly through his mouth as he watched drops of water fall from his nose and lips and hit the bottom of the sink. After a few seconds he scraped his face with a hand and headed back to the bedroom.
As he opened the door, he saw the figure in bed sit up. Jocelyn pulled a hand out of her cocoon and brushed a lock of hair out from the corner of her mouth. "Jason, you're up?" she mumbled groggily. He didn't respond as he closed the door behind him and headed for his side of the bed. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he replied curtly.
"Do you want to talk?"
"No."
"Oh, okay." Jocelyn wrestled the covers off of her body and pulled half of it over to Jason's side. He lowered himself onto the bed and lied back down.
"Good night, babe," he heard her say as he pulled the covers over himself. He looked over at her. She was lying on her side, her back towards him. Once again, he began to feel alone. Even though the nightmare had rustled him, he didn't want to bring it up. It'd just make him feel weak. He couldn't let something like that bother him. It had already been years.
But at least Jocelyn understood. She never pried or insisted he talk. And right now, everything was normal between them. It wasn't always like that. Since they had found each other again in Gotham and gotten back together, these past two years had been a bit rocky. But that should have been a given. A lot of things had happened to them while they had been together and apart. Bad things.
Tonight, things were okay. He heard it in her voice just then; she still loved him. And tonight, he could clearly remember why he loved her.
Jason moved over until he was pressed against her back. He wrapped his arms around her. The girl was a million degrees. So then why did she always need all of the covers? Well, he was cold anyway. And he loved the way her hair felt pressed against his lips, and the feeling of her arms, even that basic, skin-colored, prosthetic one Lucius made for her, as she arranged them over his. The nightmare seemed redundant now. The fear was wiped away. Tonight, everything was okay.
"Good night, Jo."
He didn't remember hearing the door open, but that must've been what woke him up. Jason lifted his head as Jocelyn walked in, the morning's paper in her hand. The room was brighter now that rays of sunlight replaced the slices of moonlight.
"I have to say, this place is absolutely golden," Jocelyn said as she walked over to the window and opened the blinds. Jason squinted his eyes as the harsh light pierced the room. "Electricity's down for the third time in a row this month, but hey!" She held up the paper and dangled it. "At least we have complimentary newspaper delivery."
Jason let out a grunt in response and rested his head back. "Oh look," he heard Jocelyn say. He opened his eyes and watched her flip the newspaper around so he could see the front. "We made the front page again."
He couldn't quite make out the headlines despite its bold and glaring font. He could hardly recognize the picture through his blurry vision either. It was an image of a red blob and a silver blob. Jason assumed it was a picture of Red Hood and the Specter. He let out another grunt and pressed his face against the pillow.
"Looks like they did a bit of coverage about that scuffle a few days ago," Jocelyn continued. There was a rustling as she flipped through the newspaper. "Says here 'Another one of Gotham's crime bosses in GCPD's morgue instead of a holding cell.' It goes on a few more sentences about ethics… that part's shorter this time… Hmm. And then the rest of the article goes on to theorize whom Red Hood and Specter might be. Secret identities, lifestyles, hobbies… yadda, yadda… Continued on page 14." More rustling. "Oh my god, this article is long." There was a stretch of silence. "And then they spend another half a page wondering about if the two of them are dating and about their sex lives. The Gotham Gazette's really turning into a tabloid, isn't it? This article's less about news and more about 'if they are bonking on the regular, who's on top more?'"
"I say it's about 50-50," Jason mumbled into the pillow. He felt Jocelyn smack him with the crinkly paper.
"Shut up!" The newspaper slap was followed by a series of shakes. "Come on, Jason, get out of bed!" He didn't move. "Maybe I should give an anonymous tip to the journalists. Tell them the Red Hood has the sleeping schedule of a lazy housecat."
"Fine. I'll tell them the Specter steals all the blankets every night and becomes a ravenous black hole around yogurt." All of a sudden, he felt the air being forced out of his lungs as a heavy weight dropped on top of him.
"What did you call me?" Jocelyn hissed in his ear as she lay on top of him. "A ravenous black hole? And I don't steal them every night!"
"Ack!" Jason grunted as he struggled to get out from under her. "And blankets aren't the only thing!" he cried defiantly. "You better not shower with the Specter! Sounds like a good time, but she hogs all of the fucking hot water! Get off me, girl!"
"Excuse me? I'm not going anywhere because you said that!" Jocelyn shouted back. "Well I'm telling them that maybe the Red Hood could have all the hot water he wanted if maybe he didn't jump into the shower uninvited!"
"Everyone knows the Specter secretly likes it," Jason retaliated. He tried to sit up, but Jocelyn shifted her weight from his gut to his chest and pinned him down. "And they also know how she takes an eternity doing God-knows-what in the shower!"
"I'll let them know the Red Hood is a little bitch who gets pinned down by his own girlfriend! Seriously, Jason, are you playing or something? I'm not that heavy!"
Oh jeez. Without warning, Jason found himself confronted by one of the taboo female topics. He was treading on thin ice, especially if he didn't want to end up with a lonely evening. "Didn't they teach you in health class or something that muscle mass is super dense? Plus, I just woke up!"
"I didn't go to school, remember?" Jocelyn reminded him. "Everything I learned was taught to me by an AI and computers."
"Oh right. I can see the headlines now—BREAKING NEWS: SPECTER IS THE MODERN DAY TARZAN."
"Oh, okay, Mr. Perfect. What about you, then? Red Hood makes his poor, one-armed girlfriend do all the errands because he's too paranoid about his face." No sooner had the words left her mouth, a look of regret instantly crossed her face. It was too late. Jason felt all cheeriness, all good emotions, die in a flash. Jocelyn put a hand on his cheek. "I didn't mean—." He pushed her off onto the bed and sat up, turning his back to her.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, Jason. Please—."
"You're right. It's time to get up," he interrupted before standing up and walking out of the room.
Addendum: There was a line. It was crossed. But at least he's up now. :D
Yogurt (or yoghurt) is gud, man.
Cover picture will be up... uh... at some point.
Also, to get hyped for this story, I played Arkham Knight again. Yup, still hate the Batmobile. And Man-Bat scared the living shit out of me... again.