Jason Todd (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asinisterkid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-04-18 04:11 pm
asinisterkid) wrote in driftfleet2015-04-18 04:11 pm
Entry tags:
001
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?
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?
video;
[ 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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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