Chapter Text
Jason landed lightly on the wooden structure that made up the roof of the warehouse, sneaking a peek over the side of the skylight.
He only barely heard Batman land beside him. He gave a small hand motion to acknowledge the man, more occupied with his spying.
There had been multiple reports of an illegal trafficking and fighting ring. A combination not entirely unheard of as many traffickers liked maximum profit for minimal work, and having their prey beat the shit out of each other was infinitely easier than doing it themselves.
This operation was different, though.
These guys specifically focused on catching metas, magical creatures and other non-humans. They fetched high prices in many circles for their “exoticness”. Jason remembered the taste of bile in his mouth when he’d first heard Bruce use that word. He also remembered Bruce’s intense sneer as he said it, as if saying it was just as repulsive as hearing it.
In any case, this warehouse was a little further outside the usual city limits but had a connection to the sewer system of the main city and docks, making it an ideal place for a secretive fighting and trafficking ring.
Jason was not looking forward to what they would find inside, considering this wretched operation had been ongoing for months without them knowing. Someone had spread early on that Batman’s “no metas in Gotham” rule meant that he hated them. They left out the whole “because it’s too dangerous for them” part when relaying his message. So nobody reported the presence of metas and nonhumans to Batman or any of his contacts to protect them.
Little did they understand the damage they did through their withholding.
No, Jason did not look forward to what they would find. He looked forward to beating up some traffickers, but other than that…
Well. There was one person whose position was even less enviable than Jason’s own.
Dickwing had to go undercover.
——
Dick really hated this.
It stank terribly, the people were decidedly unpleasant and it was noisy in the room.
There was a wide circle in the middle of the room that was sealed off with iron fences, glowing oddly in the moonlight streaming in from the skylights above.
The reason for the glow was probably the magical artifact placing a barrier around the makeshift arena. The leader of this group of thugs was terribly proud of it, claiming he stole it from a temple himself. He most likely happened to stumble upon it in a thrift store or something.
Dick winced ever so slightly at a cry of distress that keened a little louder than the others.
It sounded like a child.
He hadn’t been able to sneak in to take a look at “the merchandise” yet, despite his attempts. Apparently the Indiana Jones-wannabe (maybe call him Massachusetts Smith?) only trusted himself and his two closest captains there, and so they handled all of the caretaking— well. What little caretaking they could be bothered to do.
However, Dick only needed to figure out the last two digits of the entry code, which he would find out right about… now.
He watched as Massachusetts Smith’s second captain punched in the code, Dick maneuvering himself so he caught the last couple of digits being punched in. He memorized them. They could beat the door down if necessary, but the less stress they caused to whoever or whatever’s imprisoned there, the better.
Dick really wanted to bust in there straight away to get the ball rolling, but… There were too many people. There was a big fight planned that night, and the Bats had chosen that event as the perfect time to strike. Police Commissioner Gordon’s forces would arrive when the event was about to start, allowing the most people to get caught red-handed while simultaneously, hopefully, allowing the least harm to come to the captives. Anyone who arrived late might be picked off by the police outside, or ratted out by those they did catch to lighten their own sentences.
His nose creased as the smell from inside the captives’ area hit him. There were definitely some magical creatures in there, and none that were properly taken care of. It smelled of infection and excrement and even offal, worryingly enough.
The gloves Dick wore creaked as he balled his fist, watching the heavy door slowly shut and seal itself behind the captain.
He caught a snippet of a conversation as two goons passed by.
“... creepy thing. Apparently it almost escaped last night.”
“Does it actually glow? I heard Barnum mention that.”
“Yeah, it does. Almost invisible in the dark unless it turns a certain way. Like a fucking jumpscare. And it’s got a pale little face too.”
“Little? I thought these things got fucking huge, like building-sized?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s like, the old ones. This one’s a baby. Still, nobody’s been able to get it to come out of the tank to fight in any of the…”
They passed outside of Dick’s hearing, although the blood rushing through his ears might be blocking it out even more. He heard the announcer start his spiel and Dick felt the beginnings of an adrenaline rush as his watch vibrated. Go time.
Yeah. Time to bestow some justice on these assholes.
—
The fight ended as quickly as it started. There was a panicked brawl– well, one side was panicked– and one of the captains attempted to open the room with their victims, likely expecting them to fight for him. Dick hadn’t even let the fucker get close to the door.
Jason punched Masachusetts Smith’s lights out (nickname courtesy of Dick, who seemed to think himself incredibly funny for the Indiana Jones “joke” abomination) before spinning around to see basically all the bad guys taken care of. Well, traffickers tended to be cowards, targeting people in bad situations to exert control. They tended not to be very skilled in combat. He gave Massachusetts one last kick in the nuts before making his way over to Nightwing who was busy punching in the code of the door that led to the room that held the captives.
Jason glanced back at the fighting ring where Batman was busy pacifying a clearly drugged werewolf. The faerie they wanted to send the wolfman after didn’t need any convincing to fly away the moment the small iron rings around their wrists were removed.
Jason was sure Batman had wanted to ask questions, but he also didn’t think anyone would blame the small fae for skedaddling the moment they got the chance.
Then he almost gagged as the smell hit him. As a street kid, Jason had smelled some pretty rancid stuff. But this was… Something else. This was months of misery, sickness, death and despair combined with incredibly poor hygiene.
At least, as a street kid, he also had an iron stomach. As Jason was about to go in, Dick stopped him and pressed a rebreather to his face.
“Just in case. Some of the creatures in there might be toxic or sick, and I don’t want you catching anything.”
Jason rolled his eyes but put the rebreather on anyways, thankful for the reprieve it gave him from the terrible smell.
That relief didn’t last long, though. The place looked about as bad as it smelled.
Small cages, barely enough to hold a large dog in, held people in chains, wearing modern collars with blinking lights that Jason immediately clocked as Meta and Magic Suppression Collars. MMSCs were getting more popular with underground crime rings. That was another reason for Batman’s “no meta” rule in Gotham; they were still working on tracking down a gang that was manufacturing MMSCs for unscrupulous buyers like this trafficking ring.
The cages were rusty and dirty, most of them filled with nothing but a tray of moldy food in one corner and in another corner a bucket of… Well, you can probably guess. And a heap of limbs in a collar half-hidden in shadows, half-lidded, tired but alert eyes staring at them from darkness.
There were larger cages in the back that stuck out over the smaller ones. In the biggest they spotted what looked like an emaciated dragon. In the next one over, a scruffy-looking mangy gryphon. As Jason continued through the cramped space between the cages, he murmured soft words of comfort and promises of safety to the people and magical entities, which slowly started to stir slightly at the new situation.
Behind him, Jason could hear policemen entering and Nightwing instructing them. He didn’t pay them much mind.
He stopped here and there to give an encouraging word to a victim as Robin should before stopping in front of the largest cages. The large, yellow and red striped dragon lay there, barely moving though still alive from the slow movements of its chest.
Its large, fiery golden eye opened lazily to regard him, and closed again. Drugged, probably. The gryphon, on the other hand, paced restlessly. Probably drugged as well, from the blown-out pupils, but not with whatever the dragon was drugged with. Rather, the dragon was sedated and the gryphon seemed to be on something rage-inducing. The gryphon screeched at Jason when it saw him, feathers flaring wildly as it bashed its cage.
Jason stepped back before taking out a sedative dart and expertly landing it in the gryphon’s shoulder, which tried several more times to get to Jason before slowing down, going back to pacing and eventually settling down in the corner of the cage. Poor thing.
Movement in the corner of Jason’s eye caught his attention.
He walked over to the wall– no, wait. He touched it, and it was much colder to the touch than even regular metal walls would be during this time of the year. He ran his finger along the surface, and a highly reflective streak was left where he wiped the dust off. Glass.
Glass with foggy water behind it.
“The fuck…?” Jason said softly, not caring about his language right now. Movement in the water startled him, and his eyes shot down to stare at what had caused the motion.
A dark, coiling shape lazily curled in the corner of the glass viewing window, rows of glowing blue spots running down the slender curving shape, thicker where it disappeared into the foggy water beyond, thinner at its extremity.
Is that a tentacle?
Jason had only a second to think before another motion caught his eyes and as he looked back up, a pale face with glowing blue eyes was staring at him for a split second from the darkness before it receded back into the foggy depth like a ghostly apparition.
Jason yelped and Nightwing was by his side almost the moment his yelp ended.
“What happened?” he asked, escrimas out and vibrating with electricity.
“There was a fucking face in the water!” Jason told him, frantically looking around for it. He pointed out the glowing tentacle which quickly retracted the moment he pointed it out.
Dick must have seen it though as his boot scuffed the floor to lean down to where the tentacle had been. He used his escrima to light up the bottom, bluish white energy crackling along their length.
Almost as if on cue, a tentacle appeared from the water to where the escrima was. As Dick moved it around, the appendage with glowing rows of spots followed the motions.
Dick and Jason found it… Almost endearing, how the thin limb followed the glowing stick around.
Jason watched the tentacle and only looked away when he heard Dick’s soft gasp.
A pale shape was slowly materializing in the water, approaching the glass almost shyly.
A small pale shape.
When they could finally make out more about the small body, they both felt their hearts sink.
A child who looked no older than an 11 year old (though oddly proportioned) child with large, glowing blue eyes and swirling patterns of black and glowing blue spots dancing around on their skin. Gills on the sides of their neck and chest, and long tendrils that stuck out from their ears almost like antennae. They had medium length black hair and their limbs… Their ribcage… The poor thing looked like it was starving.
“Some… Sort of merfolk.” Dick said, leaning down to look less intimidating.
They couldn’t see the child’s lower half, but if what the human half looked like was any indication, they needed help.
Jason leaned forward to where the small shape was almost at the window now, looking at them shyly, sometimes looking away at the escrima stick and following its light with their tentacle, their own bioluminescent limb pulsing with light.
Jason put his hand to the glass and was surprised to see a small, pale hand meet his on the other side of the glass. Dick put his hand up to the glass, too, and the child’s other hand joined Dick’s.
With the child so clearly in view, they could see their little body was covered in scars. Bite marks from what might have been sharks, claw marks from other creatures it met underwater and… Fresh bruises. Hand marks. Red, irritated lines that looked like rope burn.
“They said something had tried to escape… Guess this poor little thing was the one they were talking about.” he said, frowning at the child’s wounds.
The kid tilted their head in curiosity and imitated Dick’s expression. Dick looked surprised before giving the child a sad smile, both of which the young creature imitated. They then smiled again of their own accord, and looked back. One of their limbs emerged from the depths, moving at surprising speed, holding something colorful.
A Rubik’s cube. The child took it with their hands and immediately started solving it, like they were showing it off to the two in front of their tank. When the puzzle was practically finished though, the small figure’s shoulders slumped as it turned the cube around. One of the corner blocks, the red-yellow-green one was missing, making it basically impossible to fully complete.
The child looked sad as they cradled the small box to their chest. They looked back up at Robin and Nightwing.
Suddenly, its glow intensified, pupils contracting, tendrils flaring out as they looked behind Jason and Dick and immediately shot back into the darkness, the only sign that they were ever there was a quick flash of dark limbs and bright blue lines of bioluminescence vanishing into the depths of the tank.
Behind them, they hear Bruce hum softly. Jason could identify it as an apologetic noise, although he doubted anyone else would have clocked that.
Nightwing and Robin turned and glared at Batman. “You scared them off, B.” said Dick.
Bruce just hummed again slightly. “We’ve secured most of the victims in the front area, but I wanted to see what was keeping you boys before letting them come over.” he said.
Jason looked back at the tank. Although he felt bad about leaving any child in the hands of the system… A specialized facility would be able to take care of them and help them recover better than anyone, except maybe the Atlanteans themselves.
“All right. We should probably get going.” he said, sighing. As the trio stepped away, Jason could almost have sworn he heard a small, soft, high pitched keening sound.