Chapter Text
Five huffed and adjusted his messenger bag—he had refused a backpack on the account that it was “too childish” and “unbefitting for someone of his age”— staring petulantly at the classroom door.
How Five allowed himself to arrive in this situation is unbeknown to him. He had rested his eyes for thirty short, blissful minutes before he was suddenly thrust into a painstakingly familiar situation. Once again cleaning up after his sibling's poor choice of actions.
God knows what his siblings will get up to in the eight uninterrupted hours of his absence.
Five braced himself as he moved to open the door. He had survived forty-eight long years in the apocalypse with only half a mannequin for company, he should be able to brave a room full of twenty-odd adolescents. Sighing he reached for the door when—
“Are you going to stand there all day Bud?”
Only then did Five notice the now open doorway, courtesy of the teacher's assistant, and subsequently the several pairs of eyes upon him.
Shit.
***
In his first unburdened hour in Gotham, Klaus decided to wander around.
When they first arrived in this strange dimension it had been a whirlwind of bizarre discoveries. From alien superheroes to nefarious billionaires—and wasn't that familiar?—attempting to stop said superhero, the siblings made the executive decision to get the hell out of dodge.
When gathering information on a library computer, they learned the city where they had landed was named ‘Metropolis’. Soon after Five ushered them onto a ferry across the bay, with dubiously procured tickets, to a city that “wouldn’t notice them amid its regular chaos.”
Since they arrived in the shadowed city, Klaus and his siblings have been swamped with the process of fabricating new identities. One of the hardest to create had been Five’s, as a courtesy of some random billionaire, all children had been required to have at least one form of education on their record.
Upon showing him their discovery Five begrudgingly selected a school and was then whisked off to orientation by Allison—who Klaus suspected had something to do with the swiftness of Five’s enrollment. The rest of them had been left behind to go over the supplementary documents required for attendance. It had gotten very boring very quickly, so as soon as Klaus spotted his chance to be free from paperwork he leaped for it.
Literally in this case, as Klaus’ knees still smarted from the drop. He had seriously underestimated the distance of the window to the ground. Thankfully, Klaus had managed to cushion his fall with a nearby dumpster, nearly landing on a child in the process.
With a glare, the kid adjusted his hearing aid and scrambled out from beneath him and out of the dumpster. His hair nearly blinded Klaus as he clambered over him. By the time Klaus had gathered himself the child was already walking away, mumbling profanities to someone, though Klaus did not see anyone in the area, ghost or not.
God, the children here are weird.
Shaking his head like a dog clearing water from its hair, Klaus put it out of his mind, it probably wasn't anything of import. However, he did make a note to apologize to the kid if he ever saw him again.
Lost in his musings Klaus didn’t notice the other man on the sidewalk until he ran into him. Though once he was aware of the man's presence, Klaus stopped dead in his tracks.
Usually, when Klaus stopped to stare at a guy it was to admire his physical traits or to admire the natural allure some men had. This man, however, attracted attention like a car crash. Horrifying, yet Klaus was unable to look away.
The familiar chill of an undead spirit snaked its way through his bones. The man at first glance appeared to be normal—if you discounted the frankly blinding white streak in his hair—but there was something behind him. An overlay of sorts.
Glowing the familiar blue Klaus had seen his whole life, but warped somehow. A sickly green tinge wavered at the edges and ran through the glow, poisoning the usually vibrant blue with harsh spots of teal. In the distance Klaus could faintly hear a child's laughter, shouting something about ‘robins’ and ‘magic’. The whole experience intercut with flashes of a painfully familiar domino mask.
In the back of his mind, Klaus registered bile creeping up his throat, though he couldn't tear his focus away from the man in front of him. Awareness swam in and out in bouts of clarity, his mind overwhelmed with a constant feeling of innate wrongness permeating through his body.
Klaus snapped back just in time to flinch away from the mangled hand the childman had offered him. Peeling his gaze away from browngreen shoes and to the stranger's face, Klaus felt a wave of terror at the man's veiled stare.
His body locked with tension and acting on instinct, Klaus did what he did best. He ran.
***
Jason stared at the back of the rapidly retreating man. Confusion blooming over his features he shook his head.
“I was just trying to return his wallet…” he grumbled.
He had seen Peter, a street kid he was familiar with, snatch the guy's wallet on the way out of the alleyway, and badgered the kid into handing it over. Jason was attempting to return the wallet when the man had frozen up and fled the scene. He sighed as he watched the strange man run into a wall in his haste to get away.
“Fuckin tourists, man.”
***
Though school was a veritable hellhole, Five had to admit he did come out with one benefit at the end of the day.
The boy he had been sat next to was not the worst company. Damian Wayne, the youngest son of the famous billionaire Bruce Wayne, was acerbic, violent, and blunt to the point of impudence. Five admired that.
He would much rather be acquainted with someone who spoke their mind freely, rather than someone who manipulated with carefully chosen words.
Damian was also remarkably similar to him.
Having also come from a large family, Damian was intimately familiar with the annoyance Five feels on a daily basis. He was also surprisingly clever for his age, understanding most concepts not even Five’s thirty-something siblings could grasp. He was straightforward, accepting Five’s unusual name without batting an eye.
Along with being clever, Damian was also creative. His grasp of the arts being immensely useful to the project they were assigned to. The math project—despite being mind-numbingly boring to Five—was enjoyable with Damian by his side, silently sketching out illustrations.
There was one thing that worried Five. He had been around dangerous people since he was as young as thirteen. Whether it being villains his father had sent him to take out, or his coworkers in the commission. Regardless, Five knew what a killer looked like. It was apparent in the way they held themselves, the way every room they were in was carefully surveyed. Every room being surveyed for possible threats—or targets.
And while Damian Wayne may not hold himself as a killer anymore, Five saw the signs. The same ones he saw every day in the mirror. The signs of a killer trying to masquerade as normal. Trying valiantly to cloak themselves in sheepskin to hide their fangs and claws. To hide the traits the flock would certainly abhor.
Damian Wayne has killed in the past, as did Five. Five had noticed the effort he was putting into change, though.
Maybe Five could show Damian the same misplaced trust his siblings showed him.
Maybe he could be the first to reach out this time.
***
It is not inherently unusual to hear that a fifteen-year-old boy is bringing a classmate over.
That is, of course, if your brother is Damien Wayne—resident antisocial weirdo who claims that friends are “below his standing.” Maybe Jason could have worded that a bit nicer. Oh well. It's not important.
What is important is the once-in-a-blue-moon event that is gracing the Wayne household.
In all the years Jason had known the demon brat, he had never once seen him make a friend—except for Jonathan Kent, who seemed to strong-arm his way through Damian’s walls, and even that seemed to only go so far as toleration. Hell, he had never seen the kid voluntarily spend time with someone his own age.
If chained to a table, Damian would be more likely to gnaw his own leg off than endure another child's presence.
So why was he bringing a classmate home for a group project? Especially with the fact that Jason knows he could easily get out of it. He had overheard enough tired phone calls to the school administrators from Bruce to know that.
Which is why it was mind-blowing to be sat down by the kid and given instructions to be nice to the houseguest “unless you want several new openings in your body.”
It is not like Jason has to be told to be civil.
Most of the time.
He assumed the brat had given the same instructions to the rest of the family, as it felt like most everyone was walking on eggshells. There was a nervous energy running through the house, thrumming with anticipation.
Jason knew no one was going to listen to the kid. No second chances will be taken with such a precarious situation. The unlucky classmate will be turned over and examined thoroughly, to ensure no ulterior motives. After all, the Bats took care of their own.
Jason was going to stalk the fuck out of this kid.