𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐, jasonette

xv. 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧

Jason gasped as he sat up, coughs wracking his aching lungs as he swore with a fervour that was no doubt one of the reasons he was in the position he was now.

Sitting up, it took more than a few seconds to get used to the disorienting feeling of being human, everything more distinctively diminished. Jason could no longer see for miles, hear for miles and control people with a snap of his fingers. Now, Jason was reduced to a pathetic, snivelling mortal thanks to father dearest.

Shuddering as the cold from wherever Bruce dropped him on set in, Jason let out an icy breath, despising this form even more. Maybe he wouldn't have had to lie to Bruce if he had just simply told Jason what the hell was going on between him and the other gods. But no, once again, Bruce freaking Wayne felt the inherent need to keep his sons out of it despite the fact that they were old enough to understand. They had been for the last, you know, few centuries.

Jason snarled angrily as he realised Bruce left him with the barest minimum to survive—the clothes on his back, an ID with his alias and a couple of hundred euros.

Wait. Euros?

His head snapped up as Jason took stock of his surroundings again, and then kicked himself for not recognising it earlier. Tim was probably laughing his head off up there, no doubt taking joy in Jason's exile. Jason couldn't really fault him for it though—he was sure he would have done the same.

Another gust of wind slammed Jason square in the chest and he scowled. Swearing loudly, he yelled up at the sky, "Dude, chill. I literally just got down here."

"What?" A snarky voice responded, and for a second there, Jason actually thought Bruce was answering him. "Did you fall down from the sky or something?"

Jason whirled around, eyes sharp and hands curling into fists.

"Merde," the voice swore, confirming Jason's suspicions about where he was. "Dude, chill," the feminine voice said, mocking his words from before. "It was a joke."

Jason's tensed muscles relaxed a little when he realised it was a petite woman, but he still watched her warily as she shot him a grin he supposed was meant to be comforting.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, cringing at his mortal senses.

The woman raised her hands up in surrender, and Jason scanned her for any weapons. "I, well," the woman said, clearly fumbling for an answer. "I'm a friend?" she said, laughing nervously.

Leaning backwards, Jason assessed the situation. Would Bruce have sent someone to help him? No, probably not. But maybe it was one of his brothers' doings?

Hold on. Jason looked at the woman again, and his defensive demeanour strengthened. There was no way that woman was sent by anyone he knew—she was far too nervous for that. Nonetheless, Jason played along, his curiosity winning over his sense of cautiousness.

"Who sent you?" Jason asked, still in his defensive position, but seemingly more relaxed. That seemed to put his companion at more ease too as she no doubt wondered how to answer without arousing his suspicions.

What he didn't expect though, was an immediate—and probably honest—answer from her. "You're not human," she said bluntly, scaring the shit out of Jason at the sudden authoritativeness in her voice. "I don't know what exactly you are, and I don't like it."

Jason blinked hard and then blinked again. He probably heard that wrong, didn't he? "What?" he asked stupidly.

"I asked you what you are," she said with a lot more patience than he probably deserved.

Now it was Jason's turn to fumble for an answer as he vaguely wondered how in the name of the gods did this woman know about his world.

Eventually, Jason decided the best defence was offence and rudely retorted, "What are you?"

"Me?" the woman asked, smiling calmly. "I'm the Guardian of the Miraculous. And," she continued, "Since my patience is running out, you have five seconds to tell me what you are before I decide to skewer you."

Jason paled more than a few shades when he heard that because well, that wasn't good. "The Guardian of the Miraculous?" he asked, shock plain in his voice, silently hoping that his ploy for more time to figure out what to do would work. "As in like the Guardian?"

Suddenly, the smiling woman from before was gone and Jason gulped loudly as a dagger was pressed against his throat. It didn't work then.

"Three," she hissed, and Jason frantically wished he had bothered to learn how to fight beyond his abilities as a god. "Two, on—"

"I'm a god," Jason finally blurted out, not at all proud at his caving in. "I'm a god who's been sent down to Earth in exile and oh my god, please don't kill me, I swear to have no idea how I ended up here—"

As Jason rambled, he noticed the woman who had him previously pinned looking around him in wonder and slight panic.

Since he was running out of breath, he cut himself off with, "Why are you looking around like that?"

She didn't say anything, still looking at their surroundings.

Following her lead, Jason did the same, and his breath left him in a little oh as he realised why. Plants and trees alike were dying around them, leaves withering and blackening. Some had already crumbled into ash, scattering in the cold wind.

"You're—" the woman stumbled backwards, and Jason couldn't help but let a small smirk flit across his lips. "You're Hades? God of the Dead?"

"Yes," Jason said, allowing his smirk to be visible now. It was nice to be respected, you know? "But Jason is my real name, you know. Jason Todd."

He didn't expect a punch to the face though.

His head snapped back, and Jason could already feel the blood dripping out of his nose. Swearing loudly, he said, "What the hell was that for?"

"That," the woman said, adjusting her hand. "Was for killing the plants that I spent weeks working on."

She gave him a sweet—and dangerous—smile as she picked up her bag from where she dropped it on the ground. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng by the way."