Chapter Text
Jason finds the pamphlet on his kitchen counter three days after his return. His throat is still bandaged, and his hands still shake, and he has not slept a full night yet, and someone has broken into his apartment to put a fucking community college pamphlet next to the brioche that he just fucking bought, and he’s –
He freezes halfway to the counter at the faint scent of brimstone and desert still lingering in the air, and some of his wild panic fades. He relaxes his hand on his gun slowly. Still tosses the fucking brioche, though.
Night Vale Community College, the pamphlet reads. There’s an eye embossed on the front. Despite his better judgement, he flips it open.
He’d dreamed – he’d literally dreamed – of getting to go to Gotham U one day. On Scholarship, at first. He would major in Lit, and probably get a teaching degree, and Mom would get to see him in his cap and gown.
Bruce had – he’d hoped, for the first time in a long time, that he could’ve gone beyond that already nigh-impossible dream.
Dying had –
He calls the number listed on the inside of the pamphlet.
X
The secretary that answers has an unusually deep voice at steep odds with her bright, bubbly tone. Raspy, buzzing. She greets him as Mr. Todd, and sounds absolutely delighted that he’s called.
“We’ve opened a pilot program for long-distance learners, you see, and City Council thought you’d be interested!”
They’d head-hunted him, he realizes, and that child inside of him that he still-sometimes-is cries.
“I’m – “ He hesitates. He knows this is not a typical school – the scent of magic may differ region to region but it’s always sharp and bitter – but who he is has always been safer unspoken.
“Oh, the formerly deceased are more than welcome at Night Vale Community College, Mr. Todd. We pride ourselves on our completely and totally inclusive programs – Desert Bluffs may discriminate based on living status but Night Vale has always been an ally to the formerly, un- and recently deceased!” She chirps, and the breath is punched from his lungs.
She says that they accept transfer credits, and that according to his resume he’ll have already fulfilled his Cults and Ancient Religions requirement. He hasn’t sent in a resume; she laughs and says he will. That, according to his work experience, he’ll likely be able to test out of the general education requirements. He’ll have to pick up a couple of the local languages, but he’s a quick study and is already fluent in regular Spanish.
He’s missing a lot of the foundational studies Night Vale students learn in primary school, but S’aru has at least drilled the basics of scrying into him – comes in useful looking for perps within Gotham’s city limits – and NVCC offers an intensive summer “catch-up” program should he choose to attend.
She talks about the various fields of study NVCC specializes in and their top-of-the-field partnered internships with a Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency, or the Sherriff’s Secret Police, or a brand new one with the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home. Half of what she says flies right over Jason’s head, but he’s –
“I’d be able to – with my own name?”
She pauses, just for a heartbeat.
“It’ll be your true name, dear. Not just on your diploma, but on all of your paperwork.”
Her voice is warm and gentle and thrums in his bones, and then she chirps something about scholarships and Jason says yes.
X
He knows something is up when his second-in-command corners him the second he enters the warehouse serving as his base of operations. She looks unhappy. That’s never a good sign.
“Boss, you don’t pay me to fuck with no hocus pocus bullshit.”
“…Correct.”
She narrows her eyes at him, as if she’d expected him to argue. Jason holds as still as he can as she scrutinizes him, and relaxes only when the tension in her shoulders fades.
“Right, then. ‘S some hocus pocus bullshit on your desk.”
Alarmed, Jason jogs towards his office, and tries not to hiss too audibly when his other employees – he does pay them, thank you very much, best benefits in the city – hone in on the Situation and drag their gossipy little asses over as fast as they can.
The ‘hocus pocus bullshit’ ends up being a purple folder about as thick as his thumb, embossed with that same all-seeing eye. His concern morphs into excitement in an instant, and he can’t help the pleased sound he makes.
“’s not a bomb, is it Boss?”
“What – no. It’s my financial aid offer.” He says, and flips the folder’s cover open.
The offer is – generous. Most of his tuition will be covered, and the rest will be waived if he accepts a weekend job helping out with NVCC’s big-sibling partnership with the local public school. He’d be responsible for room and board, but there’s a list of off-campus housing options included in the packet, and someone has circled a few of them in thick smears of glittery purple ink, and drawn ominously scowling cacti beside a few others.
“You’re going to college?! Shit, Boss, congrats!”
Jason starts when the first hand claps his back, but his people are genuine in their delight and nearly overwhelmingly excited.
Crime Alley had recognized him even with the helmet. The Narrows were Jason’s, and Jason was theirs – ‘s why his people were loyal, had been poachable from other upstart crime lords in the first place. Most of them knew intimately how much this meant to him, and the rest could pick it up.
“You’re gonna go, right?”
“I’d…have to be gone most of the summer.”
“The place is that far away?”
“I’d have to take exams in-person, and attend a few classes in-person too, but most of the classwork can be done remotely.”
He’ll have to set up a bloodstone circle someplace permanent, which’ll tie him down to a specific safe house, but…that’s doable. He’s more than capable of building a fortress, and he’s even more capable of obfuscating his path if – when – someone tries to hunt him down.
“Man, that’s great!”
“You think my nephew could get on that?”
“They still taking applications?”
There’s a soft sizzle and a filing cabinet slams open. Pamphlets spray everywhere.
“I said no hocus pocus bullshit - !”