driftfleet

Who: Jason Todd and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva
When: A few hours before the shuffle.

[ The broadcast begins with a close-up of a man's face, brow furrowed, head tossing slightly in the throes of some flavor of bad dream. His mouth shapes words that could be no and Mom. When he starts to move more energetically, the camera zooms out and pans down, giving the audience a good view of the thrashing and -- yep, that's actual fighting, pure muscle memory and surprisingly good technique, given that he's unconscious. Probably a good thing this guy's sleeping alone, because anyone in bed with him would be being beaten pretty badly right about now. By the look on his face, though, the fight he's dreaming about is one he's losing, no matter how good he might be.

There's a sharp indrawn breath when he wakes up, but besides that, the biggest clue is that he goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he takes inventory, eyes still closed, flexing his ankle to test for the feel of the boot knife, stretching and moving in ways that would let him locate weapons by feel, rather than just reaching for what he should have on him and letting anyone watching know just where he hides the goodies.

...Nothing. He opens his eyes, reaches for the ones that would be less obvious -- nope, even the garrote wire's gone. Whoever searched him was thorough.

Though somehow his jacket's back, and in one piece. Huh.

He sits up, looks around for a minute, and then speaks to the empty air. ]

...Hey, Bats, if this was your idea, consider me incredibly unamused.

[ Or, wait, no, that's not right, there's something... he knows something... ]

Wait, I'm in space?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You know, I wouldn't have called that I'm the only one in the family with a sense for the dramatic reveal.

Welcome to the fleet.

[His voice is clipped, irate, unenthused, even as the words are a token gesture at banter, the closest he assumes the two of them can come to diplomacy at this point.]

Aaand it's the replacement. Hi, replacement.

[ His tone practically drips malice. There's something about his body language, though, something that Tim should find very familiar if he's paying attention: Jason's never worked with Tim, but they've both worked with Bruce, and it's Bruce he's using as a point of reference, all the little nearly-invisible tells that add up to just follow my lead. It's the kind of thing you'd have to know Bruce (or be inhumanly good at reading people) to pick up on.

Seeing Tim's face still feels like a knife twisting in his chest... But Tim's proven himself. Like it or not, he earned the right to be Robin, and right now, Robins (and Batgirl, probably) are all he can count on. So: misdirection time. Build the existing enmity up into something big and flashy and entertaining, and they both get a secret ally in case things take a turn for the unspeakably horrible.

And let's be real, here: they're Batkids. The turn for the unspeakably horrible will happen, because WHAT ARE THEIR LIVES. ]

So, you look different from the last time I saw you. Don't tell me... the Puberty Fairy finally figured out how to get to your house? Congratulations. [ His grin is all teeth, and far from friendly. ]

Edited 2015-04-20 16:39 (UTC)

[For just a moment his face says, all too clearly, you have got to be kidding me. For Dick, falling in line would have been automatic reflex, the same way that defiance and resistance is here. But he catches on quick, brain moving at the speed of Tim, and squares his shoulders, moving into a solid, combative, but natural-looking stance. It's shizen no kamae, jiu jitsu, the stance of someone who's about to serve as uke for another's technique. It looks like he's readying himself for a fight - but to another practitioner, it also says come at me and show me what you've got. Jason will get the message; he's sure of that.]

You really think this is the best time and place to be working on your oneupmanship, Jason? I'm eighteen; the puberty jokes stopped being funny about the same time the eartquake hit.

[Around the time that Gotham was cut off from everywhere else by martial law. Jason was dead at the time, but he's sure the reference should be clear enough to carry the message. No way to reach home yet.]

[ He gets the message, all right. Or rather, messages, plural.

Time to think fast: this Tim is older than the Tim he beat to a bloody pulp, which means... what? Time travel? He's been kept in stasis? Alternate universes? No way to be sure. If Steph's enough to go on, though, their universes line up pretty well, either way. It's not perfect, and he wants some answers, but for right now, it's good enough. ]

It's always a good time, as far as I'm concerned. Besides, getting blown up by a psychotic clown for the second time? Yeah, that makes me a little cranky, even without the kidnapping and surprise visit to space. [ One hand goes up to the spot on his throat where the Batarang sliced him open, in what looks like an absent gesture. He's not sure how many details Bruce shared with Tim, but if he knows anything at all about what happened that night, it'll tell him exactly when Jason's from. ]

Finding out that you're here and not Daddy Bats? Not helping my mood. There are some words I'd like to have with him. [ There's a snarl in his voice there that's completely unfeigned, fallout from his last memories before coming here that he still hasn't had time to process, but... later. Later. Right now, it's time for him to be cheerfully malicious, not breaking down. ]

But hey, maybe now that you're all grown up, it'll take some effort to put you on the ground. Feel like finding out? [ a.k.a. can they meet face to face for serious talk? Also, punching. But mostly serious talk. ]

I'm not that desperate for the ratings hike.

[Translation: there are no private meetings. We're always watched.]

Besides, seems like people here have picked up your trick of not staying dead. Makes it kind of pointless, even if I wanted things to go that far. Listen, Jason. We don't have to do this. There's plenty of space to see here without seeing anything of me. Stay as far away from me as possible and we'll both be happier.

[Or at least, we'll both be able to gather information separately, from different sources, without direct coordination. He arches an eyebrow at the end of the statement. Is he being clear?]

Sure, Timmy. You just keep telling yourself that.

[ And goodness, Tim's being downright forthcoming. This may actually work, after all. There's just one thing that's bothering him... ]

But fine. We can play it that way. For now. There's just one thing I want to know first.

[ And just like that, the malice drops from his expression, and there's an anger there that's a lot more personal... though not, surprisingly, directed at Tim. ]

I talked to Steph. And while I don't have the whole picture, it looks to me like the old man decided to shit all over her and all over everything Robin's supposed to be about in one fell swoop. The fuck was that, putting her in the suit on probation? Without the kind of knowledge she'd need to do her job?

Seriously, what. The fuck. Was that? Any context you can bring to that decision that doesn't make him look even more like he doesn't give a fuck about u-- about his partners?

[ Come on, Tim. He's expecting an angry defense of Batman, but what he's hoping for... Show me you get how NOT OKAY that is. Show me you have a SOUL. Show me I'm right to trust you. Please. ]

[His jaw grits. He looks down, for just a moment. This... this is the one issue where Jason could fit a crowbar between him and Bruce. The one month.]

I'm not his press secretary, Jason. Or his defense attorney. He made a bad call. More than one. But it wasn't... it wasn't about not caring. It was about being rushed, and trying to-

It was a bad call. Kind of the time for them, all over.

[ It bothers him. Good. It's supposed to. And while that's still closer to defending Bruce than he's comfortable with, that reaction is enough to make him back down, for now. ]

A bad call.

Yeah. That's one way of putting it.

[ There's a long pause there, as Jason watches Tim's image, his jaw tense, the bile rising in the back of his throat. ]

...Wasn't sure you'd admit it, though. So, tell you what, if I ever get tired of ignoring you, I'll give you this much: you will see me coming.

[ He cuts the feed. He's still going to go by the plan, gather information, back Tim if the excrement hits the rotating blades and he really needs it. Hopefully Tim got that much out of his last words. But he's learned all he needed to, and right now, he's not sure if he can keep it together.

Of course, the whole Fleet can see him, if they're still watching the broadcast, but at least he doesn't have to look Tim in the eye while he tries to keep his composure. All he has to do is breathe -- a simple breathing exercise that Bruce taught him, once upon a time, though he's trying not to think about where he got it from. All that matters is his breath, is finding his way back to calm.

Normally, he wouldn't bother, but this isn't the time to rage out. As comforting as the anger can be, this is the worst possible time for it: he's going to be stuck on a spaceship with the people watching, and him at his worst in an enclosed space with a bunch of strangers won't end well for anyone.

So. Breathing. For as long as it takes before he's fit to deal with other people again. ]

[Miles away through the void of space, Tim starts the same breathing exercises.]

001

video;

video;

video;

video;

Re: video;

video;

video;

video;

video;