Chapter Text
Jason
Gotham was alive tonight.
The city was louder than usual, restless in a way that made the hair on the back of Jason's neck stand up. It felt like every criminal in Gotham had collectively decided tonight was the perfect night to crawl out of whatever hole they lived in and start causing problems.
Patrol had only started two hours ago, and already the bats were being pulled in every direction. Every few minutes another civilian called for help, another robbery popped up, another gang fight broke out, or Oracle sent them racing toward a new crime scene.
"Red Hood, when you finish up there, we've gotten reports of strange activity coming from the basement of the Parker Row Hotel. You are the closest one. I'll send the other Red when he finishes clearing his section."
Oracle's voice crackled through his comm.
Jason rolled his eyes and slammed the last goon's head against the alley wall.
THUD.
The criminal collapsed.
"Why do I have to do it?" Jason grumbled as he zip-tied the unconscious men together. "I have much more important things to do than investigate some creepy hotel."
He sent a ping of the location and sent it to a couple of his goons to come pick up these assholes.
Oracle laughed.
"Your date with a cheeseburger can wait, Hood. Besides, it's technically your territory. And from what I've gathered, I think you're the best person for this situation."
Jason paused.
Slowly, he looked up at the security camera mounted above the alley.
"That's a very ominous thing to say."
Oracle snickered.
"I'll send the address now. It's only a couple blocks east. Be safe, Hood."
The comm clicked off.
A second later his watch vibrated.
Jason glanced down at the map before letting out a long sigh.
"One cheeseburger. That's all I wanted."
He headed toward his motorcycle.
The engine roared to life beneath him.
Jason couldn't help but smirk.
God, he loved this bike.
Some people would say he loved the motorcycle more than he loved his brothers.
Those people would be correct.
The familiar vibration of the engine settled something inside him. Riding through Gotham's streets always made him feel more alive than anything else. The city blurred around him as he weaved through traffic, neon lights reflecting off his helmet.
For a little while, the ride kept the spiders quiet.
That was what Jason called them.
The thoughts.
The rage.
The Lazarus Pit.
The feeling of something crawling through his veins whenever his emotions got too strong.
Sometimes the spiders bit.
Sometimes they spun webs around his thoughts until all he could think about was violence.
Other times they simply waited.
Patient.
Silent.
Watching.
Tonight they seemed content to stay hidden.
For once.
Ten minutes later, Jason pulled up in front of the Parker Row Hotel.
The building had once been one of Gotham's finest luxury hotels.
Seven stories of dark gray brick rose above the street. Large oak-framed windows and elegant stonework hinted at what the building used to be before Gotham got its claws into it.
Years ago, a charity gala hosted there had ended with a joint attack by Joker and Scarecrow.
The hotel never recovered.
Now it looked like it was rotting in plain sight.
Dirt and grime coated every surface. The wooden trim had warped and cracked with age. Filthy windows stared out at the street like cataract-covered eyes.
The entire building looked exhausted.
Dead.
The air outside smelled like garbage, car exhaust, and old rainwater.
Whatever beauty the hotel once possessed had long since been buried beneath years of neglect.
Jason looked up at the building.
"Yep. Definitely haunted."
"Oracle, I've arrived at the hotel. Heading inside now."
"Copy that," Oracle replied. "Red Robin just finished his assignment. He should be there in about twenty minutes."
Jason groaned.
"Great. Can't wait."
He stepped through the front doors.
The hinges let out a painful creak.
Immediately, the receptionist behind the desk jumped to his feet.
"I—Mister Red Hood, sir. Thank you for coming."
Jason scanned the lobby automatically.
No obvious threats.
No exits blocked.
One security camera.
Three guests.
And a receptionist trying not to have a panic attack.
Jason approached the desk and glanced at the man's name tag.
Chris.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Chris, right?"
The man nodded.
"Good. Tell me what's going on. I don't have time for small talk."
Jason leaned forward against the counter.
The intimidation worked instantly.
Chris's eyes drifted toward the pistols strapped to Jason's thighs.
The color drained from his face.
Jason had to fight the urge to laugh.
The guy looked one bad sentence away from passing out.
"R-right. About three months ago a man named Stephen Vincent rented one of our basement rooms for four months. Paid in full upfront."
Jason raised an eyebrow.
"Rich weirdo. Got it."
Chris nodded nervously.
"At first everything was normal. He was polite. Friendly. Always asked how my day was."
"And?"
"About four weeks ago he started bringing in... strange things."
Jason at immediately hated where this was going.
"Weird how?" Chris turned his laptop around and pulled up the security footage.
The grainy video showed a man entering through the lobby doors. He was dressed entirely in dark clothing, with a baseball cap pulled low over his face and sunglasses hiding his eyes despite it being the middle of the night.
In his arms was a large bundle of hotel blankets and towels.
At least, that's what it looked like at first glance.
Jason leaned closer.
The man walked through the lobby without hesitation and headed straight for the elevator.
Anyone else would have dismissed it immediately.
Jason wasn't anyone else.
"Run that back."
Chris rewound the footage.
Jason watched it again.
And again.
On the fourth viewing he paused the video and zoomed in.
Just before the elevator doors closed, one of the blankets shifted.
Something pale slipped free for half a second.
Toes.
Human toes.
The man quickly adjusted the blanket and disappeared into the elevator.
Jason stared at the frozen frame.
"...Jesus Christ."
Chris swallowed hard.
“That was eight days ago.”
Jason rubbed a hand over his helmet.
"Please tell me that's the only weird thing this guy's brought into the hotel."
Chris looked guilty.
That answered the question before he even spoke.
"No, sir."
Jason groaned.
"Of course not."
Chris clicked on another security recording.
This time a black delivery van pulled into the hotel's loading dock at exactly 2:03 a.m.
Several men unloaded large containers and wheeled them toward the basement entrance.
"For the last two months," Chris explained, "he's received shipments every Wednesday night. Always around two in the morning. Mostly chemicals."
Jason watched workers unload barrel after barrel.
The kind of quantities that immediately raised several red flags.
"You just let this happen?"
Chris winced.
"Technically we weren't supposed to."
"Technically?"
Chris cleared his throat.
"We told him the loading dock was for staff use only."
"And?"
"And he offered the hotel a quarter of a million dollars."
Jason stared at him.
Chris rubbed the back of his neck.
"My manager said yes."
"Shocking."
"It was a lot of money."
"You sold access to your basement to a guy bringing in mystery chemicals at two in the morning."
Chris looked down at the floor.
"When you say it like that, it sounds bad."
Jason let out a short laugh.
"When I say it like that?"
Chris didn't answer.
The silence was answer enough.
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose on top of his helmet.
"You people were basically begging Gotham to do something insane."
Chris shifted uncomfortably before glancing toward the clock on the wall.
"I haven't seen him in a week."
That got Jason's attention.
"What?"
"The room smells awful. Guests have been complaining nonstop. Housekeeping refuses to go down there."
Chris lowered his voice.
"I'm worried he might've... done something."
Jason crossed his arms.
"So instead of checking yourselves, you called me."
Chris nodded.
"In case it's something criminal."
"In case it's something criminal?" Jason repeated. "Buddy, the moment you showed me a video of a guy carrying what might be a dead body through your lobby, it became criminal."
Chris visibly shrank.
"So..."
"So now I get to clean up your mess."
"Not my mess…. more my manager."
Jason sighed.
"Fucking idiots."
Chris's face turned bright red.
Without arguing, he turned back to his computer and typed in a few commands. A moment later he grabbed a key card from a drawer and programmed it.
"Room 002," he said, handing it over. "This should get you inside."
Jason took the card.
"It better."
Turning away, he headed toward the elevator.
"The one night I help the bats," he muttered, stepping inside, "and I get stuck playing hotel detective."
The elevator doors slid shut.
As the car descended toward the basement, Jason switched his comm to a private channel.
"Yo, Replacement."
Static crackled.
Red Robin's voice came through a second later.
"I'm almost there. What've you got?"
Jason leaned against the elevator wall.
"Guy named Stephen Vincent rents a basement room for four months, starts hauling suspicious packages and industrial chemicals into a hotel, possible dead body then vanishes for over a week."
"That's not concerning at all."
"Right? Totally normal behavior."
"You think it's a drug lab?"
Jason shrugged even though Tim couldn't see it.
"Either that or Gotham's newest serial killer has terrible taste in real estate."
"Fair."
The elevator continued its slow descent.
"Hotel called us because the room reeks and they're too scared to check it themselves."
"Smart."
"No, smart would've been stopping the creepy chemical deliveries two months ago."
Tim laughed.
"Fair point."
"I'll let you know what I find."
"Try not to kick down any doors before I get there."
Jason looked at the key card in his hand.
"No promises."
The elevator doors slid open with a groan.
The smell hit Jason immediately.
Burning chemicals. Sulfur. Something acidic.
Something familiar.
He stepped out of the elevator and paused.
The spiders stirred.
Not much. Just enough to make the back of his neck itch.
The basement hallway stretched out before him. Six rooms total. Three on each side. A flickering fluorescent light buzzed near the far end, casting long shadows across the stained red carpet. The beige walls had yellowed with age, and water stains crawled along the ceiling like veins.
The smell was strongest here.
Strongest near Room 002.
Jason's boots thudded against the carpet as he approached the door. The closer he got, the more uneasy he felt.
The spiders were moving now.
Slowly.
Curiously.
Like they recognized something.
"Don't start," Jason muttered.
He stopped in front of the door and pulled out the keycard Chris had given him.
Swipe.
Beep.
Red.
"...Seriously?"
He tried again.
Beep.
Red.
Jason stared at the scanner.
"You have one job."
He swiped it a third time.
Beep.
Red.
"You're a piece of plastic. Your entire purpose in life is opening this fucking door."
The card remained silent.
Jason sighed.
"Unbelievable."
Five minutes later he was back in the lobby.
Chris looked up from his desk.
"Oh. Mr. Red Hood sir are your finished already?”
"The keycard doesn't work."
Chris frowned.
"That's strange. It worked when I programmed it."
"Well, unless the door suddenly developed standards, it doesn't."
Chris looked mildly offended by that.
The receptionist took the card, typed something into his computer, then grabbed another card from a drawer.
"Try this one."
Jason pointed a finger at him.
"If this one doesn't work, You’re a dead man Chris."
Chris laughed nervously.
Jason didn't.
Back downstairs, he marched directly to Room 002.
The smell seemed even stronger now.
The spiders weren't just moving anymore.
They were crawling.
Swipe.
Beep.
Red.
Jason blinked.
"No."
Swipe.
Beep.
Red.
"No. No, no, no. We are not doing this tonight."
He took a slow breath.
Counted to three.
Then to five.
Then to ten.
The scanner flashed red again.
Mocking him.
Jason slowly lowered the card.
The hallway was silent.
The door stood there.
Unmoving.
Jason narrowed his eyes.
The door stared back.
"Okay."
He slides the card one last time.
"Heres your final chance."
The scanner flashed red one more time.
Beep.
Jason nodded.
"That's what I thought."
A second later his boot slammed into the lock.
CRASH!
The entire door exploded inward.
Wood splintered.
Metal screamed.
The frame cracked as the door slammed against the far wall.
Silence.
Jason stepped through the ruined doorway.
"Look at that," he muttered.
"Opened first try."
Then he froze stepping into the room.
The room no longer looked like a hotel room.
Every piece of furniture had been removed. Besides a musty looking couch. The space had been transformed into a makeshift laboratory. Bottles filled with strange chemicals lined the walls. Lab equipment sat scattered across metal tables. Dark stains covered sections of the carpet, and the air burned with the smell of industrial compounds.
The spiders stopped moving.
Every single one of them.
Jason's gaze drifted toward the bathroom.
A sickly green glow spilled across the floor.
His stomach dropped.
"No..."
The bathroom had been completely remodeled.
At its center sat a massive steel tub.
It was filled nearly to the brim with glowing green liquid.
Lazarus Pit water.
The surface bubbled softly.
Green mist rolled from the tub and drifted through the room.
The unnatural glow painted the walls in shades of emerald.
Jason couldn't breathe.
The spiders erupted.
They surged through his skull all at once.
Rage.
Fear.
Memories.
A crowbar.
Blood.
Dirt.
A coffin.
Green eyes staring down at him.
His fists clenched so tightly the armor creaked.
"No..." he whispered again.
Because he knew exactly what he was looking at.
And he knew exactly what it meant.
And when he peered into the tub, a body was submerged.