Chapter 3: New Faces in Gotham

Crunching his hand into a ball, Jason awoke, from a face-down position, on the wooden floor, to the sound of silence radiating around him, in a dark environment. Rays of sunlight showed through the cracks of the wooden walls, revealing not very much as he sat up, taking a deep breath, realizing his mask was off of his scarred face, and his hood was down, revealing his short, black hair. He smelled the foul stench of the sewer water that still stuck to his clothes, and immediately thought back to the night before, and the stranger he fought, along with the wounds he received.

He looked down, and felt the area where the two bullets had exited from, but felt only dried blood, and something different underneath. Lifting his shirt up, he saw it was all covered up, both front and back, from a series of bandages that went around his waist, and was very sore, but nowhere near the stinging sensation he had previously experienced. Finishing his checking, and wondering as to whom saved him from bleeding out, he looked down, his eyes still adjusted to the dark, and spied his red mask laying just a foot from him.

Whoever did this left all my stuff here... he thought, curiously, as he picked it up, and put it over his head, propping the hood on top of it afterword. Just before he could stand up, he heard the sound of something rapping against the wall, a hollow echo going into the dusty air of the room.

Looking rapidly to his right, his eyes spotted a human, female figure in the darkness. The vision his helmet provided had highlighted the shape, down to the last, vivid detail.

The clothing she was clad in was made of a black, skintight fabric, and over her face and head was an all-concealing hood with a slightly pointed end, apparently modeled after that of an executioner's, possessing a pair of ornate, gold-rimmed, reflective goggles for the eyes to see through on its front. Long eyebrow-like protrusions of the same color stuck out above them, and a short beak-like object was in between the eyepieces, connecting them, and giving the hood's face a very owl-like appearance, set in a permanent grimace. She also had a rather elaborate, owl-themed breastplate on her chest, complimenting her attractive, slim shape, and visible around her waist was a belt, with nearly a dozen throwing knives, a few daggers, several pouches, and a single short sword sheathed by its side to be seen. Sticking up from behind her back, as far as Jason was able to see, was the handle to what he presumed was another, albeit longer sword. On her gloves, at the end of their fingers, were claw-like metal tips, most likely also weapons in their own right.

"Are you... one of the two that found me last night?" he asked, as he stood up, brushing dust off of his jacket and pants.

The figure nodded slowly, twice, not giving away an inch of emotion. She turned her head to the crack in the wall, looking out it a last time, before facing behind herself, and walking, silently, to a doorway previously hidden by the darkness the room cast, showing off her back, and the sword inside of its decorated, ceremonial sheath that laid on it. She looked back at Jason, and beckoned him to follow, raising a gloved hand, and curling it inward in a rather quick, if not somewhat impatient manner, before disappearing around the corner.

As he walked toward her, he couldn't help but think of how ironic it was that after passing out from blood loss from last night's fight, he had gotten a better night's sleep than he ever experienced in the past three years, as judged by how his joints, the ones that weren't sore, felt. He rounded the corner, and spotted the person again, standing at the beginning of a hallway, a few meters away. She merely looked at him in her eerie, quiet manner, before setting off, gliding down the hall like a phantom. Red Hood had to jog forward to rejoin her.

The hallway they now entered was illuminated by a series of incandescent light bulbs, attached to small chains on the rotted ceiling. Their light revealed its walls were lined with peeling, striped, red-and-white paint, and also showed just how narrow it was, forcing Jason to trail behind his guide, once he had caught up.

"Can you speak?" he decided to ask, out of pure curiosity as they walked, noting her persistent silence. She suddenly stopped, turned, and stared at him from behind her mask, before shaking her head, and pointing to her concealed throat with a claw-tipped finger. The answer was all-too-clear that she was mute.

"Sorry if I offended you by asking," he apologized, noting his intrusion. She responded by raising her hand, in a gesture of easy forgiveness, before they resumed their walk, reaching an old, metal door after a few more moments. She stopped in front of it, and simply stood, vigilantly, after raising a hand, gesturing him to enter. Instead of entering right off, however, Jason cupped his hand around his ear, and propped it against the door, listening to the voices inside.

"...And the radio also said something about a guy called Clayface," a male voice spoke, from the other side. "He was seen escaping his cell a few days ago, and just recently by some scared civilians in Chinatown. Heard he's quite a handful."

"But still no Onomatopoeia..." a female voice replied. "Are you sure he's in this city, Baphomet?"

"I've tracked him this far..." the other voice responded. "And I'll bet my life that Red Hood had a little run-in with him last night."

"He is the gentleman in the other room, yes?" another, higher-pitched male voice asked. "The one those two owl-people saved and mended up?"

"Yep," the other voice answered. "I recognize him from security cam photos, and eyewitness reports from news articles. He has to be skilled to take down half of the organized crime gang leaders of the city, so it would take someone of Onomatopoeia's caliber to beat him up that bad. The fact he didn't die tells me he actually managed to kill the bastard, but we won't know until he wakes up."

It was at this point, Jason pulled on the doorknob, and entered the room. Before him stood three people, standing in front of a table, each one turning their heads over their shoulders to see who was intruding. The first one, standing behind the table, was the one he recognized first. He knew it was the Baphomet character, as seen by the cloak he wore, and the large, wooden goat mask he had over his face. It was definitely him.

Crouched on the floor next to him, the second most noticeable person in the room, was a humanoid figure that was clearly not human. The creature, insect-like in appearance, had a green, exoskeletal body, skinny but powerful legs, and a face that had two, large, red, compound eyes. Also on its face was a proboscis, and on either side of it were two, small but sharp mandibles. It had large forearms, that poked out from immense, chitin-armored shoulders, ending in four-clawed fingers, had a two pairs of small, transparent wings sticking out of its back, and had a small abdomen that stuck out from just behind where its legs connected.

The last one he noticed was a woman, wearing a black cloth mask that covered all but her nose, mouth, and long, white hair, the last of which hung just over her shoulders. She had a muscular body, and the blue-and-black costume she had was heavily armored in the front and leg areas, and highlighted in gray. The weapon she wielded was a bo staff, and was held, idly, in one of hers hands.

"Speak of the devil," Baphomet finally spoke, after a brief moment of silence. "I see you're up, Mr. Red Hood."

"I am," Jason replied, as he walked into the room, the owl-costumed following close by, silent as death. "Who are you all?"

"The basics, eh? Alright then... I'm Baphomet," the wooden mask-wearing vigilante started, introducing himself. "...From Star City."

"Virago," the female vigilante said. "From Philadelphia."

"And I am the Canterbury Cricket," the insectoid, who was nearest to him, spoke in an eccentric English accent, introducing himself last, as he stretched a four-fingered, chitinous claw out, as if asking for a handshake. "...From the esteemed city of Canterbury, England. I came here to visit an old friend, but found out about this little plot, and joined in. Pleased to meet you, most honored ally."

The Cricket slowly pulled his hand back when Red Hood didn't react to his welcoming gesture. Brushing past him, he walked into the middle of the room, until he was in front of Virago and Baphomet.

"Why are you all here?" he snapped, demanding answers. Virago was the first to talk.

"We're... Hunting down a serial killer," she spoke, walking up to him. "He's called himself "Onomatopoeia." At random points in the last three years, he's been actively murdering non-powered vigilantes, all across the country. As of late, with the recent spring of vigilantism following the death of Batman, he's been... busy."

"Onomatopoeia..." Red Hood said again, thinking back to what the stranger from the night before had introduced himself as. "He's been taken care of."

After a small moment of silence, Baphomet laughed, enthusiastically, and clapped his gloved hands together, before speaking.

"Haha! I told you guy he got him! How'd you do it?"

"He became food for Killer Croc, down in the sewer where we brawled" he replied. "Last I saw, he got pulled under the water by him, and didn't come back up."

"Oh dear..." Canterbury Cricket responded, uneasily, when he finished. "Though I've never met this "Killer Croc" of which you speak, I just recently accrued some information from the radio saying that a creature known by the same name was found by a few sewer workers only an hour ago. He was unconscious, bleeding heavily from multiple cuts and blunt force to the face, and missing an eye, apparently gouged out by a sharp object. They said they would have more on the story forty-five minutes from now, and there did not appear to be any Onomatopoeia with him."

"Well... that brings us back down to... zero," Virago sighed, in a disappointed tone. "Baphomet, do you think he's going to flee?"

"He's not one to give up so easily... he doesn't let his prey go like that..." the masked man responded, grimly, before turning to Jason. "Red Hood, until we properly locate him... we shall help you with cleaning up the scum in this town in return."

"No, I want you all out of Gotham," he replied instead, in a hostile tone. "My city, my problems. If I see "Onomatopoeia" or whatever the Hell he calls himself again, I'll mail you his body when I'm done with him."

After he said that, each of them, minus the owl-costumed one, who still stood like a statue behind him, looked at each other. They were silent until Canterbury Cricket lifted a finger, and spoke up.

"We appreciate the offer, but we really must insist on-"

The creature was hushed as Jason walked up to him. Tranquil as he was, he was still intimidating nonetheless, and was even more still when he bent his head forward, to him.

"Listen. I kill criminals. Not only them, but anyone who stands in my way. Right now, you're all doing the latter," he hissed. Cricket wasn't fazed by the threat, but before he could speak again, Baphomet did it for him.

"I've heard about Gotham's crime predicament for some time now. And by some time, I mean nearly three decades," he started. "You run this town with two other vigilantes as well, and even then it persists like a cancer. I hardly see how a handful more of us will dampen the situation."

"You all don't even look well-equipped, or well-trained," Red Hood said, as he looked back at him. "What skills do you all even have?"

"Please... I've worked with Green Arrow," Baphomet chuckled, somewhat menacingly, lifting his previously concealed handheld crossbow. "He even taught me a thing or two about how to use this thing."

"I stopped multiple thugs from vandalizing the Liberty Bell," Virago said after. "And, as of two days ago, I've stopped nearly thirty-three muggings, fifteen would-be rapists, and because of my influence, drug traffickers won't even show their faces outside their front doors. Learning how to master hundreds of advanced martial arts techniques since grade school, and then using them to combat crime will do that."

"I've tangled with the likes of the insufferable Tin Tyrant!" Canterbury Cricket shouted, shaking his fist into the air, as he continued his eccentricities. "I've had the detestable pleasure of dealing with the dreaded ghost of Whitstable! I've roughhoused with the twenty dog-men of-"

"Oh for the love of God..." Jason sighed, interrupting the mutant and planting his masked face into his palm. Cricket stopped his ranting, and his proboscis drooped in slight embarrassment from the killjoy. Jason turned, and looked at the owl-themed vigilante behind him, whom he had just noticed was standing uncomfortably close to him.

"What's her story?" he asked. "She isn't able to speak, and I'd rather not have my time wasted letting her explain."

"Um... her partner, the guy in the owl costume, told us not to ask, and wouldn't even give their names," Baphomet replied. "Another thing of importance you might want to know, is that, before he disappeared, he said she was going to keep a close eye on you, specifically. I'm guessing that meant she's going to follow you around. Have fun with that, I guess."

Red Hood glared at him, before turning his field of view back to the bird-themed vigilante.

"Don't even think of following me," he growled to her. She responded by simply folding her arms, in a show of either stubbornness, disagreement, or both. In reply, Red Hood only turned his head back to the other vigilantes, and spoke again.

"As for all of you..." he began. "I expect you all to leave Gotham by the end of the week. Persist any further, and I'll make you leave."

"We'll leave when we catch Onomatopoeia," Baphomet responded, adamantly. "I've been looking for him for two years without rest. Kill me if you want, break all the bones in my body if it makes you feel better, I'll only leave when either he, or I, are dead."

"It's my only warning," Jason spoke again. He spun around, and started for the door, after walking past the owl-person, who only stood there, watching him as he left.

"In case you may want to know, we are going to have another meeting, in two days, right back here, at two p.m.," Virago said, as she saw Red Hood enter the doorway. "If you change your mind, or tell those two other guys you work with about us, that's where we'll be."

"I don't work with them," he growled back, thinking of Robin and Nightwing, before disappearing behind the corner.