Chapter Text
It really isn't fucking fair.
Jason knocks his head against the wall and wishes for death.
The day was going so well, too. He was able to stand being around Bruce for a few hours without wanting to shoot him, and none of the reporters paid him any attention, all caught up on getting footage of Damian.
Jason didn't see the point with it, honestly. Rich people with their showing off- oh, Damian Wayne came into his element, we must stick our nose into their business! The same thing happened with Tim a few years ago when he came into his element. He guesses that's what happens when you're Gotham's elite, Gotham's poster family. Sad fact that they're the best this city has, but that's a whole different topic.
Either way, the press conference was going well. Damian barely paid them any attention, most of his focus spent on trying not to set anything on fire. Finding his element at twelve is surprising, but some people find it the day they come out of the womb and some find it the day they die, so it's not completely uncommon. To that fact, though, Jason did die, and he still hadn't found his element by then.
Another weird thing he didn't understand nor like. Why did Damian have to prove that he found his fire? What if he didn't get a common element, but was a Modest or Simple (he has problems with those given names, but that's for another time too-) instead? Were they going to demand he be disowned? Tell Bruce Wayne to kick out his own biological child because he wasn't an Elite or Common? It was all fucking stupid.
He's seen both sides of the shitshow called life. His mother was a Simple, the lowest class she could possibly be. She was kicked from her home of Modests and was forced to live on her own. She hated her element because of it, but Jason always saw her using it whenever she thought no one was looking.
The juxtaposition of it made Jason terrified of finding his own element, even though the only way to be worse than a Simple is quite literally almost impossible. Still, he had nightmares about finding a simple element or worse. Then his mother disappeared and his nightmares changed altogether.
Then Bruce took him in, and he was thrown into the other side of society. When he was young, people would talk about him to Bruce, wondering if he found his element yet or asking if Bruce used that brand new device that showed elements even before they're found. They put such a large emphasis on it, everyone does, and as Jason got older and new younger kids showed up people soon forgot that he still hadn't found his element. Which, great for him, honestly.
He fucking hates rich people.
They don't even protect their own. If Bruce Wayne found his element and it was a Simple or Modest they would've converged and destroyed him. He'd be an outcast of society, still wealthy but completely cut off from that world. Even poor Commons would treat him like trash. And then, on the other side, if a kid living on the streets finds their element and it's Elite… then they're set for life.
He's gotten off topic. Long story short, people care too much about finding their element and are heartless, ruthless bastards.
(Because that Elite street urchin wouldn't have mattered to anyone if he didn't have that element.)
The press all have questions for Damian, of which he answers none. His eyes are focused on his fingers, which are currently on fire, and he keeps glancing up at Dick as if he knows what to do, when Dick hasn't even found his own element yet.
Bruce takes care of the press, thankfully, and even announces his new pet project; a k-12 school for Simples, Modests, and Commons, state of the art and all inclusive. Jason likes to think he was one of the catalysts for Bruce doing this- letting a rich man see that elements really don't matter and everyone deserves a chance at a good life.
The press is more shocked than anything else. Tim snickers next to him, wringing his fingers together.
"They're going to say it's a waste of money." Jason whispers, mouth barely moving, and Dick elbows him slightly. "'Why educate the Simples? They can't even afford it!'"
"They're going to faint when they hear it's going to be free." Tim whispers back. "'A Simple getting the same education as my wonderful Elite baby boy? Inexcusable!"
Jason snorts. "None of these people are Elites." He replies. "Barely any of Gotham's actual elites are Elites."
Having an elite element was definitely the rarest of the main four groups. There were only two elements in the Elite group, seen as the stronger elements, being light and shadow. Bruce, of course, because of course, found his shadow and firmly planted himself as Gotham's Elite poster boy.
The man himself answers another question before pointing to a reporter. The reporter raises her mic and stares Bruce down. "Mr. Wayne, are you doing this because two of your sons are still unfound, or because the rumors are true and they're both Simples or Modests?"
Bruce's smile turned sharp. Dick tensed next to him. He couldn't see Alfred, but he got a feeling the old man had a weapon in hand, watching from the manor with the news footage playing in the background.
Dick takes a step back as both of Damian's arms catch on fire, all the way up to his shoulders. Damian doesn't even seem to notice, glaring the reporter down.
Jason thinks it's overkill, but he understands why. A reporter calling someone out, even insinuating that someone's a Simple is dangerous, illegal in some places. Simples get the brunt of everything, are barely even protected by the law. If someone of a high class attacks a Simple the police most likely won't do anything. And the Waynes have enemies. Adding it all together is just like inviting someone to assault them, make them think they can get away with it because they're Simples.
(Not to mention how much Gotham's elite would love it. Tim was of a good standing before being adopted, but Dick and Jason? They're common street rats to the wealthy. They'd love if they found their simple elements and were thrown out.)
Damian takes a deep breath. The flames go out.
Bruce's smile is cold. "They are both still unfound. Never ask that question again."
His eyes glance around, talking to all of the press, and a bit of Batman must come out because no one argues.
And that's when Jason first sees it.
It's over Bruce's shoulder, on the other side of him. At first he thinks it's a shadow, some weird floating ball in the air. It's black but it's also not, rainbow but not, everything but nothing. Jason stares at it, floating innocently past the group of reporters. It's getting closer.
"Jason?" Dick whispers, catching his attention. He turns to look at Dick, who looks a bit concerned. "What's wrong?"
Jason looks back towards the sphere. If he concentrates, he can make out colors. Black, purple, a bit of pink. It's magnificent, beautiful. He gestures with his head. "Don't you see it?"
All three of his brothers look over. Both Tim and Damian frown. "See what?" Tim murmurs.
Dick, on the other hand, stares, eyes wide in shock.
The ball floats closer, but there's more colors in it now. It's split down the middle, one half of the sphere the black purple pink it was before, but now the other half is white gold blue, glowing ethereally and what the fuck is going on?
He barely notices how all of the eyes are on them, the two of them staring wide eyed at something apparently only they could see. Distantly, he hears a reporter say something like, 'it's a finding!'
A finding? Firstly, there aren't co-op findings, you can't grab a buddy to find your element. Secondly, what the fuck kind of element is this?
Those thoughts are gone before they can really settle, and Jason takes a step forward, half in a trance. The sphere is floating next to the podium now, crackling with energy. The black and white mix and slide together in a way that reminds him of the ying-yang symbol. He takes another step closer.
The thing sings to him. Everything else is drowned out. His vision tunnels.
He brings a hand up to it, fingers hesitantly touching the black purple pink.
He's thrown back into Tim, a sharp shock ripping through his body.
The reporters gasp and yell as Tim cushions his fall. Jason shakes his head, dazed, and there's another gasp and yell and Dick thumps against the wall next to him.
Jason blinks, mind clearing. Everyone's looking at him.
Dick groans next to him, rubbing his head. Tim's squeezed out from under him and Bruce is kneeled in front of them both, eyes urgent like something was wrong, yet Jason doesn't know what.
Then one of the reporters find their voice. "Was that a finding?" They asked slowly, before gaining confidence and raising their voice. "Mr. Wayne, was that a paired finding? Do you know what that could mean, Mr. Wayne?"
Then the other reporters start talking, shouting over each other to ask questions, and it's really loud, way too loud, and Jason kind of wants a nap. His body is buzzing, full of energy but also exhausted.
The reporters keep talking. "Normal findings don't throw people back!"
"How can two people have a finding together like that?"
"What are your elements?!"
"Do you know what this could mean?!"
Jason really just wanted them to shut up.
He places a hand against the wall behind him, using it to help himself up. The crowd quiets, something like shocked fear filling the air. Jason looks at them, tries to see what made them go silent.
They're looking at him. At the wall behind him.
Jason turns around.
Outstretching from his hand is a mass of black purple pink matter, slowly inching across the wall, converting whatever it touches as it goes. Jason stares at it, disbelieving.
He removed his hand. The black matter follows it, coming together to float above the palm of his hand, vibrating with energy.
Tim looks more amazed then anything. He takes a step closer. "Fascinating-"
"Don't touch it!"
That was Bruce, and he rarely ever hears him sound like that, even as Batman. Tim jerks away, and Jason backs up, away from him. The thing in his hand falls to the floor.
The moment it connects, it starts spreading again, faster than before. It eats away at the stage, and the reporters all back up, cameras pointed at whatever monstrosity Jason had created.
He himself is frozen, watching as it creeps out, stretching across the stage floor like vines growing down a tree, creating a pattern of purple pink orange as it goes. The supports creak and groan, like the stuff is decaying everything it touches.
He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what it is.
It starts reaching towards Damian and Tim.
And, just like that, it stops.
It stops, pauses, freezes in place, and if Jason hadn't just seen it move he would've thought it was a mural someone painted. It was completely still, almost contained, and Jason stares at it in confusion, felt the buzzing underneath his skin dull.
Then, at the very edge of where the stuff reached, it turned white.
They all watched in fascination as the purple pink orange turned white gold blue, and Jason recognized the colors, saw them in the sphere, and when he looks at Dick the older man's eyes are narrow, face furrowed like he's concentrating on something.
The white gold blue keeps taking over the purple pink orange, and at the beginning, where it first appeared, the white fades to show polish wood floors, untouched like the other stuff was never there in the first place. The white keeps eating the rest of the other stuff up, until all that's left is the beginning ball that Jason had dropped.
The ball, that was now white gold blue. Jason stares at it, they all stare at it, as it floats up into the air.
It flies into Dick's outstretched hands.
He realizes two things, right then.
One, he knew what this was.
Two, they are completely and utterly screwed.
And that leads them to now, with Jason banging his head against the wall.
It had been such a nice day, too.
Bruce, before the reporters could recover, was already rushing them away, into the manor. Alfred was waiting outside, door open and holding a shotgun, face more serious then Jason thinks he's ever seen it. Bruce ushers them inside, gives them a look that allows no arguments, and says, "stay inside."
He then rushes up the stairs, either to call Gordon, Superman, the entire League, or just turn on the laser shields and never turn them off.
Because there's no way Bruce is letting them out of the house now, civilian wise at least. Not after they just outed themselves on live television in front of the entire world.
They're so dead.
"Anyone want to explain what just happened?" Tim asks, watching as Jason whacks his head into the livingroom wall. He, Dick, and Damian are all on the couch, blissfully unaware of the ginormous change that just occured in their life.
He's gonna have to tell them.
Groaning, he hits the wall one last time before walking to the coffee table and standing in front of it, arms crossed. They all look at him. "You all know Legends, right?"
They all nod, because that's easy information to know, they teach it everywhere. Besides the four main elemental groups, there are two more. Two that are so rare or unspoken of that they're practically myths. Legends.
Well, at least one of them is.
The Legends class has been empty for a long time. Many historic people in history have been theorized or said to have the legend element, space, but many people are skeptical of an element like that even existing, let alone someone having it. While many people in history have claimed having the space element, there's been no definitive proof of it ever happening. That leaves the most powerful class being the Elite, which can have one of the two rare elements of either light or shadow.
After the Elite comes the Commons, named that because it houses the four most common elements- air, water, earth, and fire. Most people are Commons, and it's a comfortable place to be. There are both wealthy and poor Commons, it's the one class that can decide it's own fate.
After them comes the Modests, which are two elements that are generally weaker, cold and heat. If a Modest is lucky enough, it can have a strong enough heat element to pass itself off as fire. Most Modests, though, can't do anything about it. They're below the Common, working class, most poor and in need.
Then comes the Simples, who live in poverty. It's always angered Jason, how they're treated, because their powers aren't any less then the Commons, they only get shit on because their elements look like knock offs of the Commons. Smoke is the knockoff of air, ice the knockoff water, sand for earth and ash for fire. Simple elements can be very strong, he's seen someone with ash beat the bark out of a fire user before. It was all societal standards that gave them the bad end of the stick. Made his mom hate her smoke.
And then-
He clears his throat. "You've heard about Legends, but what about Creatures?"
Tim and Dick look at him blankly. Damian frowns. "Grandfather mentioned a being, one time." He says. "He talked about it favorably, but called it unnatural."
Jason snorts, because that old man has no right to talk about unnatural. "Okay, how about Inhumans?"
That made both Tim and Dick recoil, recognition crossing their faces. "No way." Tim breathed. "Those are real?!"
Jason gestured at himself, and Tim sank into the couch, eyes wide in horror. Dick was staring at his hands, like he couldn't believe it. Jason wouldn't in his situation too.
(Maybe his childhood nightmares weren't just to scare him. Maybe they were a warning.)
Damian, on the other hand, looks confused. "Explain."
Dick drops back against the couch with his hands on his head. Jason sighs, sits on the coffee table and faces the youngest. "You know about the elemental classes, and how, at the top, that's where the Legends are." Damian nods. "Well, Inhumans are at the very bottom."
Damian frowned again. "What are Inhumans?"
"An old fairytale my mom used to tell me so that I'd pray to be an Elite every night." Tim mutters, coming back out of it. He shifts, facing Damian. "It's another very rare elemental class, but one we actually know exists."
"I've never heard of it before." Damian crosses his arms. "I've never seen one. How would we know it exists if there's none around?"
Tim swallows, glances at Jason. "A lot of research has been done on them. A lot of studies and tests and-"
"-inhumane experiments." Dick finally joins in, cuts in to say. He looks mad. "They're called Inhumans because they aren't treated like human beings. They're experimented on, tortured, shown off as trophies in many cultures- people don't see them as humans because their element isn't human enough for them."
The weight of the room seems too heavy. Jason sighs. "There's about two to four born a generation. There's a few different names for them- Creature, Inhuman, whatever dehumanizes them, at the end of the day. I try to keep tabs on any I might find- they're usually thrown into human trafficking or brought into some government lab. An Inhuman's element is insanely strong, but also very volatile. People have always wanted to know how to make their own powers stronger, but they can't experiment and test on others in their own group."
"So they choose the outcasts." Tim realizes. "No matter how strong someone may be, they can't fight a hundred people. If they ostracize a class of only a few people, tell the rest of the world that they're not human, then no one would care what happens to them."
"Depends on the culture." Dick interjects. "Many cultures find Inhumans disgusting, and kill them on sight. Others think of them like lesser gods. All because of a fucking element."
"What even was that?" Tim asks, and purple pink orange creeps through his mind. "I've heard a few myths about Inhumans, but none of them actually say what their element was- and both of you have different elements."
"Not exactly."
They all turn to see Bruce walking into the room, shoulders stiff and face gaunt. Alfred comes in behind him with some tea.
Jason takes a cup, doesn't wait for it to cool. "So, on a scale from one to screwed-"
"Twenty-three." He doesn't miss a beat, eyes dark. They all straighten at that. "This would be a bleak situation if we weren't in the most crime infested city in the world. As it stands, this is the safest and most dangerous place you can be right now."
Dick rubs his forehead, takes a second. "Maybe we're overreacting." He tries. "We're not in the past, we can't just expect the worse-"
Bruce raises a single eyebrow, and that shuts Dick up, because Bruce is in danger mode, tense like he's in Arkham's top security wing and the doors are all unlocked.
He takes out his phone and taps something out. The TV in the living room turns to a gruesome picture of a middle age person strapped to a metal table, body completely dissected and left open to rot. The top of their skull is gone too, as well as parts of their brain. Like someone had cut it out.
"That was ten years ago." Bruce says. "Alex had gone missing half a year before, but the police wouldn't do anything because they were an Inhuman. When they found the body, they weren't sure what the motive was." Bruce steps closer to the TV, still keeping his eyes locked with Dick's. "It could've been torture, based on the cuts. Maybe the kidnappers were disgusted with them. Or maybe they were curious, wanted to see how an Inhuman worked. Or, the kidnappers went too far into the dark web and found the nutjobs and lunatics that think eating other parts of elementals grants you their power. They would've paid a lot of money for just a fingernail of an Inhuman. Or maybe it was all three, and the kidnappers gutted them while Alex was still alive before selling their parts on the black market."
"Yeah, ok." Dick looks down, crosses his arms. "I get it."
Tim looks vaguely sick.
Jason stands up again, glances outside. "You know a lot about this."
Bruce looks nonchalant. "I always pay attention to things like these."
There's a small part of him that goes, 'he pays attention because you were still unfound, and he wants to keep an eye on everything in case you aren't a Common or Elite. He cares!' He promptly shoves that part of him into a box and forgets it.
"Either way, nothing is getting in here without my permission." Bruce continues, hand white with his grip on his tea. "And this is a last case scenario, but Superman is a call away, and can hear you from across the city."
Getting rescued by the man in blue isn't on his to do list, thankfully. "Why don't I just go back to Crime Alley?" He asks, half to get a rise out of Bruce. "I'll just keep the Hood on-"
The shadows around Bruce's feet lash out, and Jason thinks he might be poking an awake and angry bear. "Do not leave this house. Not until everything's calm down." He takes a deep breath. "Not until you can control your element."
Ah, yes, the thing that caused this mess in the first place.
Tim raised a hand. "I'd still like to know what their element is."
"Matter." Bruce says, and Jason already knew that, but it's still weird to say. "Inhumans can control matter itself. Matter and… antimatter."
Anti- waitwhat?!
"Most Inhumans control matter." Bruce continues, like he doesn't see Jason's brain short circuiting. "There's only been one recorded case of an Inhuman with an antimatter element. A case much similar to this one."
Dick blinks. "The pair finding thing?"
Bruce nods. "It was written that the Inhuman was a twin, and the boy could control matter while the girl got antimatter. They both found their element at the same time, in the same place."
Jason doesn't know if he wants to know. "What happened to them?"
"They were called witches and put to hang." Bruce's voice is harsh. "Before they could the girl lost control of her element and the entire town was destroyed. No one else survived. History doesn't even know if the brother survived."
'Mr. Wayne, was that a paired finding? Do you know what that could mean, Mr. Wayne?'
"Antimatter destroys whatever it touches." Tim adds on, voice a whisper. "But whatever it touches destroys it as well. If you have matter, though, and find its direct antimatter, the two matters colliding would cause a crater."
"I still don't understand why it's held at such importance." Damian huffs, crosses his arms. "It's just a rare element."
"It's so infamous because it's notoriously hard to control." Bruce explains. "Then again, most Inhumans don't actually get the chance to learn how to control it. Not only is it hard to control, but it's the most dangerous to lose control of. People used to fear Inhumans, because if they lost control they could level an entire building."
Just his fucking luck. God damnit.
Bruce's phone buzzes. He glances down at it, frowns. "Stay away from the windows, don't answer the doors for anyone. If there's a breach, suit up and leave through the batcave. Use force if necessary."
With that he turned and strode out of the room, and Jason watched him go, completely in shock, because Bruce was telling them to use their training as civilians if necessary. He's never said anything like that before, not even when Twoface threatened Tim on live TV.
The tone of the room turned somber, the four of them stuck in their own head and thoughts. Unless they deleted the footage and somehow made the whole world forget, they could kiss their old life goodbye. Even people without some preconceived notion about Inhumans would go after them, looking to get the bounty Jason's sure has already been made. And they live in Gotham, of all places. The cesspit for crime. A city where most people would kill for the right price, where everyone needed more money than they had.
Tim groaned. "I don't fucking know what to do."
Jason clasps his hands together. Wispy black comes from his palms, curls around his fingers. Dick leans against Tim. "I should contact the Titans." He murmurs. "They're probably worried sick."
God, when's the next time he's going to see anyone from the outside world? Hopefully tonight, it's not like Bruce can let the city go unprotected. And Jason wasn't being completely untruthful when he mentioned going back to Crime Alley. He'd probably be safe there too, as long as he kept his hood on. No one knows Jason Todd lives there, no one would expect him.
(Dick'll probably have to sell his place in Bludhaven. It'll probably be ransacked before he can even get there. People are crazy.)
The black antimatter curls around his wrist, making its way up his arm. It doesn't hurt, a slight tingle he barely feels. He watches it move, brushing against him like an apology. Sorry, didn't know you humans fucking hated me and everything I live for, would've left you unfound otherwise.
"Drake said that if direct matter and antimatter touch, it causes an explosion." Damian's noticed the particles climbing up his bicep too. "Does that only apply to the element, or will Richard touching the antimatter do that as well?"
That was a morbid thought. The antimatter doesn't stop, though, instead almost tightening around him.
"Touching such energized antimatter would be like touching pure acid anyway." Tim refutes, and Jason would just rather not in general, but the antimatter doesn't seem to care, floating away from his arm just slightly towards Dick, like a baby wanting to switch what parent was holding it.
Jason clenches his fist. The antimatter vaporizes into thin air.
He stands up. "I'm taking a nap."
Alfred hands him another tea as he goes.