Chapter Text
Jason comes to awareness, lost in a swirling void of neon green. In his flailing, he feels the side of his face crack into a hard surface. He barely has time to process the pain before the disorienting currents push him away. Eventually, he finds himself at the edge of the pool, which he realizes must be a Lazarus Pit, and he manages to get his feet under him.
Unbeknownst to him, but visible to all the present League of Assassins members, he is visibly changed from the broken boy he was when Ra's dumped him into the Pit. The blood from his head wound spreads across his face like an oil slick, before hardening into a solid mask. Pointed shards grow from the top like a crown of stalagmites, metallic gold dripping down from the points. Gold tears run from the eye sockets, which glow with the green luminosity of the Pit.
Instinctively, Jason headbutts the oncoming assassin, surprised when the action results in significantly more damage than he expected. The blood and tissue damage look like stab wounds, but he has no time to examine them further. More assassins rush towards him.
He takes on the first one, executing a wing kick. His feet feel heavy, now encased in shining, shin-high armored boots, but he dismisses the difference in feel to the added weight he now carries in muscle, bone, and height. A spin to dodge an oncoming assassin sends a new green-scaled, gold-edged skirt fluttering around him. He launches into one of Dick Grayson's signature flips and a gold cape flutters behind him, red armor washing over his torso and solidifying, but leaving a gap at his solar plexus, concerningly reminiscent of an anime boob window. A few well-placed punches give him shining, armored vambraces, and he immediately uses them to choke out the remaining assassins. Breathing heavily and rolling with the punches, both literally and figuratively, Jason stares down Ra's al Ghul.
Ra's is initially very surprised because people dumped in the Lazarus Pits have never received a magical power boost and transformation before, but he refuses to let the broken little bird know. "This isn't quite the appreciation I expected for restoring your mind."
Jason is certain that Ra's didn't do this for something so meager as appreciation. Unfortunately, he has to acknowledge what he did somehow. He nods and then says, "Apologies. I'm sure you know exactly what came over me." It isn't exactly a thank-you, but it's the best that Jason can manage, given the circumstances.
"Well. As long as you understand you belong to me now. You owe me your very life. You are even in green and gold, the colors of the Al Ghul Family." Ra's looks unbearably smug, as usual.
At first, Jason isn't certain what Ra's is talking about, so he looks down. He is astonished to see armored boots, vambraces, and a skirt. He certainly wouldn't have chosen this for himself, but he kinda matches Wonder Woman now, and there are definitely worse people to look like than Aunt Diana. He still feels decidedly masculine, but whatever, he can rock this too. "I'm wearing my colors. I just got a glow-up, you creepy asshole."
Ra's wishes that he could punish the impertinent bird for his disrespect, but the child is an unknown now. He does not take action if he is uncertain of what will result. He informs Jason that his daughter, Talia, will be responsible for his training and sweeps out of the room, pretending that this was always the plan and not a result of him not having a single solitary idea of what to do with Jason. If he had thought a bit longer, he might have realized what Talia would decide to do and incorporated it into his plans. Alas, he did not.
The assassins lead Jason to a room in a wing far from where he woke up, and he waits for Talia to deign to visit him. When Talia al Ghul finally saunters in, Talia al Ghul looks Jason over slowly from head to toe. "Well. You're clearly not little anymore or a bird. What should I call you, if not Robin?" The words are innocuous, but her gaze makes Jason uncomfortable.
The pervasive feeling of quiet makes Jason blurt out the first name he can think of, "Deadpool." It's a bit on the nose, but for an alter ego created by a Lazarus Pit, it makes sense.
He doesn't remember why it might have seemed so familiar to him until a nearby assassin whispers, "Like the comic book?"
"NO!" Jason loudly insists. He likes the drama of the name, and he's stubborn enough to commit to a bit. However, he hopes people don't keep bringing up the comic book character.
They do, of course. Every time he introduces himself, even when it's an instructor that he's about to cut down for some heinous crime or another and he would think that they'd have bigger things to worry about. It becomes too much, and he resigns himself to needing a name change. He's getting tired of everyone looking at him incredulously and asking him stupid questions. He looks inside himself while deep in meditation, where the roiling ball of green that gives him the transformation lives, and asks it what it would like to be called. It whispers back, "Guardian."
Jason is a bit surprised because he has never heard a clear voice from the Pit before, but he rolls with it. "Guardian" is as good a name as any, he supposes, and he must admit that it's at least better than Deadpool.
Talia continues to labor under the mistaken belief that the rage of the Pit regularly overtakes Jason's mind. He sees no reason to disabuse her of that misconception. This becomes increasingly helpful as Talia begins to reveal her hand and her motivations crystallize.
She has laid out a series of pictures on the table in front of him. Front and center is the school portrait of a young child that, frankly, looks like a sad, half-drowned kitten. His giant, sad blue eyes peer up at Jason from the gilded and lacquered surface of the table.
"Look at this inferior little mouse that Beloved has replaced you with. He barely waited until you were in the ground before shoving a replacement into the uniform that you died in." Talia tries to muster the sense of righteous indignation that her Beloved is so well-known for, but it falls flat.
At first, this absolutely enrages the Pit. However, the influence of the green goo feels weak, sputtering like a fire in the rain, and Jason's logical thought finds footholds. Jason's eyes still gleam with rage, but not for the reason that Talia assumes. He doesn't believe a word she says. Talia has suspiciously left out the date that this new Robin took flight, and Jason suspects that the timing wasn't anything like she insists upon. If she's lying about something so trivial, there must be more circumstances surrounding the new Robin's first flight that he isn't being told. In addition, he can't stop looking at the school picture Talia gave him of Timothy Drake, so he would be able to recognize his new target. The new Robin looks unbearably tiny. He's just a fledgling, with tiny little bird bones and big, hopeful eyes. Jason is angry, sure, but it's at Talia and Bruce for painting a target on the little bird's back. He'll go to Gotham and persuade the baby bird not to be Robin anymore, but it certainly won't be using whatever hideously brutal methodology that Talia is imagining.
If Bruce really did put that... baby in the line of fire, Jason is going to have several new tasks to add to his to-do list. Mainly, wrapping Timothy Drake in a warm, fluffy blanket and feeding him soup, then finding Bruce to punch him in the face. Jason isn't sure why Talia wants him to kill a child, but that definitely is what she's angling for. For now, though, he summons up the lingering Pit rage and pretends, just long enough to get him sent back to Gotham, and then he can do the exact opposite.