Chapter Three
"Closing your eyes isn't going to change anything. Nothing's going to disappear just because you can't see what's going on. In fact, things will even be worse the next time you open your eyes. That's the kind of world we live in. Keep your eyes wide open. Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing your eyes and plugging up your ears won't make time stand still."― Haruki Murakami, quote from Kafka on the Shore
Gotham had always been classified as weird compared to the rest of the United States—strange and perilous, to be more precise. The statistical revelation that Gotham citizens were less likely to survive from adolescence to young adulthood had caused quite an uproar in the scientific community.
The city itself was commonly defined as a kill-or-be-killed world. If you couldn't defend yourself, you were in trouble. If you didn't know how to mind your business, you were in trouble. It was an odd way of living, but no one would trade it for the world—especially if it meant living in Metropolis.
Gotham had its vigilantes to protect it, to shield life from the rogues causing misery and mayhem almost daily. However, there were times when its citizens felt off—usually after recovering from the Joker's laughing gas or the relief following a rogue's defeat and imprisonment.
To claim that Red Hood had not felt off would be a lie.
Initially, the patrol went smoothly—or as smoothly as one could manage as a member of a dysfunctional family of vigilantes. ~~Although he knew he was likely the main reason for it.~~
(His death and revival had caused quite an uproar in the snobbish communities.)
(He ruined Batman's reputation by killing people.)
But at some point, somewhere along the way, there had been a shift. Something within him wanted him to leave and go somewhere else. It practically begged him to find something—to depart from his duty of protecting Crime Alley and safeguard something greater. Someone greater.
(But what? That was the question that plagued Red Hood's mind.)
"Hey Hood, you good?"
Red Hood nearly fell off a building as a voice perked up next to him, snapping him out of his thoughts violently enough to cause a stumble. Annoyed, he quickly turned around to face Nightwing, who had a worried look on his face. "Woah! What's got your panties in a twist?"
Red Hood rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows slightly, "Shouldn't you be in Bludhaven?" It wasn't a question, and Red Hood was sure that Nightwing could tell, with the faint change in expression in the older man's eyes—or however much change could be shown behind a domino mask—and the slight frown on his face.
Nightwing tilted his head slightly, "Weren't you paying attention to the group chat? I announced I would be stopping by Gotham today for a couple of days."
"I have that chat on silent." Jason didn't bother hiding the coldness in his tone, nor did he lessen the venom in it. The pounding in his head was irritating him more than usual.
(Was it the pit rage?)
Silence followed the two as Red Hood stared at the notorious Crime Alley below. Although from an onlooker, it might appear that the two brothers settled into an awkward silence, in reality, the two of them were oddly comfortable. Nightwing knew when or when not to keep pushing Red Hood's nerves, and Red Hood knew when Nightwing just needed to silently communicate with body language.
(It was a language they spoke many times before. But it became far more common after the accident.)
But Red Hood couldn't stay at peace for long. His head was filled with a constant ringing noise—one that would not go away no matter how hard he tried. His chest—his core—screamed at him to get up and move.
(It was hard to breathe. Why couldn't he breathe?)
He needed to leave. But go where? He didn't know. He just needed to leave. To run. Something inside him was screaming, yelling, shouting at him to move his feet. To jump off the building he was on and dive onto the ground. To move for hours towards a second location. To take step after step after painstakingly step to...
Somewhere. Some location. To a building. A building that... white?
(But where is it? And what did it mean?)
A faint memory shows a boy no older than sixteen. He was smiling and laughing. The icy-blue tone of the boys eyes matched perfectly with his pale skin and obsidian-black hair. The boy was talking another boy of similar age, perhaps a mere year older, and two other beings.
The second boy shared the same obsidian-black hair and possessed ocean-blue eyes, encircled by a subtle glow, unmistakably marking him as a ectoplasmic entity.
"I'm sure you two understand just how important the roles you two play are, yes?" Another had spoke up to the side of them. Beside them, a figure with pale teal skin and a dark purple cloak, concealing most of his form, addressed the significance of their roles. A clock eternally ticking resided within his torso, seen through a glass window.
"If I'm following your narrative correctly... I just need to ensure this idiot doesn't hurt himself?" quipped the older boy, pointing a thumb toward the younger, a playful grin adorning his face as the other boy perked up offended
"Hey- Jason!" The youngest boy shouted at the older, now Jason.
"Now now, as the King of the Infinite Realms, Danny, you can't proceed without crowning a Fright Knight. Jason fits the role perfectly, not only due to your friendship but also his combat prowess," elucidated Clockwork.
"I know Clockwork, but couldn't I have gone another year without one? I've been protecting myself just fine," Danny protested, arms crossed. Even as King of the Ghost Zone Danny needed a certified babysitter.
Jason chuckled, "Yeah, if 'protecting yourself just fine' led to you tumbling down the stairs earlier." His smug expression remained intact as Danny quickly turned to face him:
"Irrelevant"
"As amusing as this banter is, the coronation ceremony is in an hour. I still need to instruct Jason on more of his duties and abilities," Clockwork expelled a gentle sough as he motioned for Jason to leave the room with him
Jason's eyebrows raised slightly, "There's more?"
"There's always more. You'll learn to get used to it" Jason heard Danny mention as he was escorted out of the door.
After a brief and short walk, Clockwork softly pushed Jason into a separate room. The room adorned several large windows that made up the entirety of a wall. Allowing for a mass amount of natural greenlight to enter and coat everything with a green room. In the middle of the room laid a suit of armer draped on a mannequin.
"The title of Fright Knight isn't bestowed upon any ordinary soul. Your experiences in the living realm have proven your worth," Clockwork murmured aside him. The voice held a tone of recognition and praise. Praise that caused Jason's core heart metaphorically skip a beat.
(Did anyone every praise him while he was alive?)
After a moment of silence Jason spoke up, "So.. Besides being the bodyguard of Danny. What other duties does Fright Knight hold?"
"The realms recognize Fright Knight to be the metaphorical sword of the realms. You gain an entire fleet that listens to your ever waking command. Your core's power will grow due to you being connected to the king as well." Clockwork replied
Jason's eyes widen slightly, "Shit- wait, I gain an entire fleet?"
As if sensing the ego boost he was giving the boy, Clockwork replied once more: "Several technically. Along with the Nightmare sword, stallion, and lair."
An image of a comically large sword flashed within Jason's mind. There was no way he would willingly carry it around, "Can I replace the sword with something else?"
"Of course, what did you have in mind?" Clockwork looked towards the boy at his side.
Jason hesitated, allowing a hint of embarrassment to surface of his face, "I don't know. Can I change it after I'm coronated?"
Clockwork hummed, "Of course."
And with that, Jason turned back to face the suit of armor. He had always adorned a dark red and black look, perhaps black would look nice on him?
An image of Batman flashed within his mind..
...
He would also have to see if the armor can be changed as well.
Red Hood's mind suddenly snapped back into focus, "Nightwing, tell B' I'm going to be late to dinner."
"Okay, he's going to ask for a reason you know"
Red Hood's eyes flashed a dull green under his hood, "He doesn't need one." Jumping off the building's roof and onto another one, he quickly ran off in the direction he knew where the kid was. Paying no mind to Nightwing's hand that reached out to him. And certainly paying no attention to the vibration of his phone when he turned off his comms. He'll deal with it all later. For now, there was only one goal on his mind.
Save the king.
As he navigated through the dark alleys and rooftops of Gotham, a myriad of thoughts flooded Red Hood's mind. The persistent ringing in his head seemed to echo louder with each passing moment. The inexplicable urgency to reach the white building intensified. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something crucial was unraveling, something beyond the ordinary threats of Gotham.
With every leap, every twist and turn, the gravity of his mission weighed heavily on him. The city's ambient sounds melted into a distant hum as he focused on the single-minded purpose: to save the king. The consequences of his actions, the questions from the Bat Family, none of it mattered in comparison to the instinct that propelled him forward.
The night enveloped him in its darkness, concealing the red emblem on his chest as he moved with determination. He couldn't afford distractions or explanations; there was a greater force at play, pulling him toward an unknown destiny. And as the city whispered its secrets, Red Hood raced against time, driven by an unyielding resolve to fulfill his inexplicable mission.
Save the king.
Another memory flashed within the vigilante's mind. . .
"I can't help but ask. You said my abilities will grow stronger after this, yes?"
"Yes. It is a given how all entities that live within the infinite realms hold the basic abilities of flight, intangibility, and more—with others having abilities that are closely tied to their obsessions or death. Daniel, Danielle, and you all possess enhanced versions of most abilities, such as being able to scale higher heights with flight, and more," Clockwork answered without turning back to face Jason.
Jason hummed, slightly concerned, "Isn't that a tad bit overpowered? Surely this can cause tyrannical rulers."
"It did for a short while, but I'm sure you're aware of Pariah Dark's defeat," Clockwork mused.
As the conversation unfolded, Jason couldn't shake the weight of the responsibility that came with his newfound abilities. The idea of enhanced powers sounded appealing, but the potential consequences lingered in his mind. He wondered how he would navigate this delicate balance between strength and restraint, especially in a realm where power often determined one's standing.
As if unlocking a hidden talent, Jason went intangible and took flight the moment he could—away from pestering eyes, away from everything. He took proper care to ensure he didn't fly too fast, just until he got out of the range of the trackers.
He had no desire to explain his ghostly abilities to his family. The weight of his newfound powers pressed on him, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with a barrage of questions or concerns from those who wouldn't understand the intricacies of the Infinite Realms.
Vlad hummed quietly to himself. The town was eerily quiet—no shouts of ghosts attacking the city, no happy cheers of children and teens having fun. His castle echoed the silence, amplifying the unsettling atmosphere that had gripped the once lively place. It was too quiet, and Vlad couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling that hung in the air.
The streets, once bustling with life, now lay deserted, a stark contrast to the constant patrols of the GIW. They roamed the streets, vigilant in their mission to eliminate or capture any ectoplasmic entities, or as they derogatorily referred to them, "scum." Vlad had long suspected that they were involved in the tragic events that led to Jack and Maddie's deaths and the disappearance of their children, Daniel and Jasmine.
Initially harboring hatred for the organization for robbing him of the love of his life and tearing his future family apart, Vlad's sentiments had taken a twisted turn. Now, he found himself somewhat thrilled by the circumstances.
Over the past year, Vlad had employed someone to tirelessly search for Daniel's location and hack into the GIW's database. The arduous efforts had finally borne fruit, revealing information that sent shivers down Vlad's spine.
The horrors the boy had endured for a year were beyond imagination. The psychological scars would likely haunt him for life, making even the sight of lab equipment a triggering experience.
Vladimir Masters saw an opportunity in this. If he assumed Daniel's mantle and played the role of the metaphorical hero, he could exploit the boy's fragile mindscape to keep him by his side. With patience and manipulation, Vlad believed he could finally achieve his long-desired goal of having Daniel as his son.
Yet, there was a hurdle. Leaving Illinois was necessary, given that the GIW base was situated in Pennsylvania. It was an unusual location, but the choice made sense from a security perspective. Vlad pondered the challenges ahead, knowing that the journey to acquire Daniel would require strategic finesse and careful planning.
But if he raised even an ounce of suspicion, he may be done for. He may be more experience than Daniel, but the boy's quick wit and unnatural sense of adaptability should have made it impossible for him to be taken. Yet he was, and has stayed in captivity for an entire year.
Vlad would rather be safe than sorry.