Chapter Text
Jason was having a good night. Was. Then a call came in from Barbara talking about an anomaly near the docks (some sort of explosion? He was already annoyed on principle), and Bruce just had to give him the job of checking it out, since it was in Crime Alley. Jason groaned dramatically again as he hopped off his bike, a hand on his holster. “Let’s see what we have to deal with here…” he rumbled, peering into the darkness where the anomaly’s location was pinging from.
There was a man on the ground in the alleyway. That wasn't too unusual. What was unusual was that he was covered in blood, drenched from head to toe. So much that it had saturated his clothes and was pooling on the ground around him. He was also missing an arm, but that seemed like the least of his problems. "What the fuck," he breathed, eyes wide and wild with fright. He laughed brokenly. "This isn't real. No—no no no no... I died." His bloodied hair whipped against his face as he jerked his head over to Jason. "You," he said, half pleading and half ordering, "where the hell am I?"
Jason froze for half a second, just long enough for his brain to process the scene, before his training kicked in. He took a slow step forward, hands raised in a mostly non-threatening gesture (hard to look non-threatening when you're dressed like a crime lord). "Crime Alley." His voice was steady despite the adrenaline humming beneath his skin. "Gotham. And buddy, if you did die, you’re doing a shit job staying dead." His eyes flicked over the guy’s injuries: too much blood, but no visible wounds that explained it. Huh.
"...Gotham," the man repeated slowly, lips curling around the name like he'd never heard it before. "Just my fucking luck I'd end up in a place named Crime Alley." He tried to stand up, but stumbled in place, sinking back down to his knees with a wet squelch of blood. "Damn concussion," he mumbled.
Jason couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him. This guy. "Yeah, well, welcome to Gotham." He was definitely concussed. Hell, the fact that he was even conscious was a miracle. "Maybe stay down a minute, pal.” He took another slow step forward. "What's the last thing you remember before you woke up here?"
The man's expression soured even further as if to say, do I look like I remember anything? His gaze dropped downwards to the puddle of blood he was kneeling in before snapping back up. "The black box," he said suddenly, voice cracking. "The black box—on the SM-13. Do you know what happened to it?"
Jason's brow furrowed—SM-13? What the hell was that? "Black box?" he repeated. His heart rate picked up a beat, and he inched closer still, now just a few feet from the guy. He kept his voice low; he'd seen too many head wounds in his time to risk getting the dude any more worked up than he already was. "Slow down. What is the SM-13? Some kind of plane or something?"
The man frowned, shaking his head. "No, no, the SM-13. The Iron Lung. That damn tin can I was welded in. You know, the sub exploring the blood ocean on AT-5? The—" He sighed suddenly. "Actually, nevermind. Just tell me where the nearest medbay is."
Jason's eyes widened indiscernibly as he listened, processing the words. Blood ocean? AT-5? Iron lung? This dude was either high as hell, or he was not from around here. And by 'not from around here' he meant 'not even from the same universe.' He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Okay, you know what? We're gonna table the whole 'blood ocean' thing for now." He tapped his comms. "Oracle, you getting all this?"
Barbara's voice crackled back immediately, her tone dry. "Every bizarre word. Bruce is... uh, approaching fast."
Jason grimaced. Of course Bruce was. He crouched down beside the guy, keeping his movements deliberate. "Look, medbay's incoming. But between you and me?" He tilted his head toward the sound of screeching Batmobile tires rounding the corner. "You might wanna think about dialing back the cosmic horror talk when the World's Greatest Detective shows up, unless you want to get instantly adopted."
The man's crooked nose scrunched up. "Adopted?" he scoffed. "I'm 27."
Jason barked a laugh, genuine this time. "Yeah? Bruce doesn't discriminate." The roar of the Batmobile cut off abruptly, replaced by the sound of heavy boots hitting pavement. Jason sighed. "Too late," he muttered, just as Batman's silhouette filled the mouth of the alley.
The cowl's shadow hid Batman’s face, but the tension in his shoulders was obvious. He strode over, cape billowing dramatically. "Red Hood. Explain."
Jason bristled at the commanding tone, but bit back a retort. "Found him in Crime Alley," he jerked his head at the man. "Says his name's—" He realized he hadn't even asked. "Dude, what's your name?"
"Doesn't matter," the man huffed, clearly done with this whole ordeal already. After a beat, he rolled his eyes. "Simon," he answered properly.
Batman took another step forward, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. For a second, it looked like he was about to squat down like Jason, but he thought better of it and stood firm. "Simon," he repeated.
Jason tried not to let his smirk show again. He's already on a first-name basis. "Says he's from some kind of... 'blood ocean.' On AT-5."
Batman went still for a moment, the only sound his measured breathing. The lenses of his cowl gleamed. "...What?"
"No, I'm not from the blood ocean. I was sent to the blood ocean. There was—" Simon groaned, putting his head in his hands (well, hand). "Just—look, I don't feel like explaining it right now."
Jason shot Bruce a told-you-so look and shrugged. "He's concussed," he muttered. "Probably hallucinating."
Bruce ignored him, instead turning his full attention back to Simon. His tone shifted, still firm, but softer. "We can talk later," he conceded. "For now, you need medical attention."
Jason rolled his eyes. Here we go.
Sure enough, Bruce extended a hand toward Simon. "Come with me."
Jason groaned under his breath.
"I can walk," Simon insisted, using the wall behind him to maneuver his way up to a standing position. His vision only swam a little bit.
Jason winced at the way Simon's legs trembled under his weight, but bit his lip to keep from saying anything. Stubborn bastard. He was gonna get along great with everyone.
Bruce's hand shot out, grabbing Simon’s elbow.
Jason raised an eyebrow (subtle, Bruce), but said nothing.
"Come on," Bruce grunted, half-support, half-command.
Simon scowled but didn't shake him off, probably because he'd faceplant without the help. He took one shaky step forward, leaving a bloody shoeprint behind. Upon seeing where he was being led, his eyes widened. "Uh... you know I'm gonna get blood all over your fancy car."
If he weren’t so focused on keeping him from toppling over, Jason would've burst out laughing at the look on Simon's face. Poor guy looked about two seconds from passing out again, but he was still worrying about staining the expensive leather.
Bruce didn't dignify the comment with a response. The Batmobile door slid up with a soft hiss, and he guided Simon carefully into the passenger seat.
Simon let out a low, pained grunt as he sank into the seat, wincing as his battered body made contact with the leather.
Jason circled to the driver's side and leaned against the door, folding his arms across his chest. "Y'know, most people would be a bit more grateful to be riding shotgun in Batman’s high-tech Batmobile."
Simon blinked. "...Right." He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Batmobile? Okay, sure. Why not?"
Jason chuckled, his eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and sympathy. God, this guy's in for a hell of a night.
Bruce slid into the driver's seat and started the Batmobile with a purr, the engine coming to life under their feet. Jason could practically feel the tension radiating off of the Bat. The ride to the Batcave was going to be a long one.
As the Batmobile pulled out of Crime Alley, Jason stole a glance at Simon. The streetlights flickered through the window, casting eerie shadows across his face. The guy's mouth was set in a grim line, as if he was still trying to process this strange, new world he'd stumbled into.
Jason took a moment to look him over properly, cataloguing the details. He was a mess, that was for sure. His clothes were drenched in blood, and what little skin was visible was bruised, bloodied, and covered in a fine layer of grime. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, Simon," he started, voice deliberately casual. "When we get to the Cave, you want Alfred's patented tea-and-trauma special, or are you more of a 'patch me up and pretend this never happened' kind of guy?"
Simon blinked at him, exhaustion and wariness fighting for dominance in his expression. "...patch me up and pretend this never happened," he said after a beat. "Not much of a tea person."
Jason snorted, his lips curling into a grin. "Fair enough."
From the driver's seat, the only sound was the whir of the engine and the hum of tires on asphalt as the Batmobile wound through the backstreets of Gotham.
Finally, they pulled into the hidden entrance to the Batcave, the car coming to a smooth stop.
"We're here," Bruce said gruffly, climbing out of the Batmobile. He stopped to help Simon out, and Jason rolled his eyes.
Bruce was already moving, his face tight as he strode toward the Batcomputer. The screen was a flurry of activity as he pulled up scans of Simon's body. "Rad exposure is through the roof," He grunted, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the readouts. "Blood oxygen levels are dangerously low. The concussion was several days ago."
"Sounds right," Simon mused, like that was all perfectly expected, as he leaned against Jason’s side.
Jason exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath. He'd seen some rough cases before, but this was something else entirely. “And you’re still standing?”
Bruce shot him a glance before turning back to Simon. "Alfred," he said into his comms, "Prep medbay. We have a high-priority patient."
Jason leaned against the console, crossing his arms as he studied Simon. "So," he drawled, "just out of curiosity, how does someone end up with radiation poisoning, oxygen deprivation, and a concussion?"
Simon gave Jason a look. "Don't wanna talk about it," he muttered. "Let's just get to the part where you guys treat my radiation poisoning."
As if through divine intervention, Alfred appeared at the entrance to the medbay, already rolling up his sleeves with that particular brand of disapproval that meant someone was going to get scolded later. "Mister Simon, I presume?" His sharp eyes took in his state instantly. "Ah. Yes. Straight to bed with you."
Simon looked like he wanted to argue, but exhaustion won out. He just muttered, "...Yeah, okay," and let Alfred steer him toward treatment.
Jason watched them go, then glanced at Bruce. "So. Blood oceans, huh?"
Bruce's jaw tightened. "...We're running tests."