driftfleet

Entry tags:

002

Who: Jason Todd, and whoever wants to bother him.
Broadcast: None
Action: VRD // Waystation
When: 4/21, in the wee hours of the morning // 4/27, mid-afternoon.

{{ It's two, two, two events in one! The first will be a lovely VR romp through Gotham at night, set up for his new friends, but open to anyone who feels like crashing the party. The second, taking place a week later in honor of Jason's Death Day (4/27), will involve a lot of alcohol. OMG SO MUCH ALCOHOL. And as many fights as he can get away with starting at the nearest Waystation. }}

[ For the moment, half of the VRD has been turned into a little slice of Gotham, all gargoyle-encrusted skyscrapers and gothic splendor. There's a full moon overhead, and only the smallest shreds of cloud. Between that and the ambient light from the city, visibility's pretty good. It's a gorgeous summer night, and Jason's relaxing for the first time since he got here.

It's a cheap trick, but he's willing to be soothed by this little taste of home, especially since this place should allow him to run the way he's used to. He even went out of his way to pick a time when there would be less competition for the space, and less chance of someone turning his city into a beach mid-jump.

Robins need to fly, after all. ]

[A week later: Jason hasn't had a chance to earn much money yet, but he's spent some of the past week working security, picking up what he can. And now that he's got money to put towards things not a ship upgrade, he's gone and spent it on alcohol.

Yes, all of it.

This isn't a good day for him. This is the day that Jason Todd, Age 15, got beaten nearly to death with a crowbar and then blown up. He's been increasingly keyed up over the past couple of days, the nightmares getting more frequent, and generally he's been feeling like there's a scream trapped in his throat, getting louder and louder...

So obviously, the solution is no sleep, and lots of alcohol. He's got a few bottles of something that might be space vodka, or might be industrial strength engine degreaser with a vodka label half-assedly slapped on the bottle. It tastes foul, either way. He's sitting in the central courtyard of the waystation, already halfway through the first bottle. When not sending drunken text messages with his communicator, he's been harassing random people. ]

Hey, you. Yeah, you.

Fight me.

[ Is he talking to you? A random passerby? A potted plant and/or especially lifelike bit of statuary? YOU BE THE JUDGE. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And me without my sparkly nail polish. Warn a guy next time, okay? [ He grins and sits on the bed, one leg tucked under him, but without putting his boots on the bedspread. He's not a barbarian. ]

I always figured a swift kick to the balls was the appropriate response to being told to take the costume off and go home, but I'm not a nice man.

...Now, "go home and take the costume off" could have a completely different effect...

Sounds like he's... not bad, when he's not trying to be Batman's mini-me, though. I guess I can give him that.

That was always Bruce talking too. There were other things I probably should have hit him for, but... I don't know if I can blame him for that part.

He's not bad when he's just being... Tim, though. He's great.

[ She shifts a little on the bed, pulls the stuffed animal closer to her chest so she can rest her chin on it. ]

What... what's going on with you and him?

[ Of course, she would ask that question. He's already made up his mind to be honest to her -- after what Bruce did, she deserves that, but... that's not how he wanted to start things off. ]

...It's not even him. Not really. I mean, he's kind of an asshole, but to be fair to him, I started it. It's everything he represents.

Time for some history: before I was Robin, I was a fifth grade dropout squatting in a condemned building on Crime Alley. Did a lot of stuff I'm not proud of, back then. Hell, the only reason I met Batman at all is I jacked the tires right off the Batmobile, and he thought it was funny.

So he took me in, he let me be Robin and it was... it was like magic. My first day in the suit was literally the best day of my life. Still haven't found anything that comes close.

[ And maybe he wouldn't say this to someone else, but... Steph was Robin. And if Robin doesn't hold the same kind of magic for her (and fuck you very much for that, Bruce)... well, she's Cluemaster's kid. Maybe Spoiler does. Maybe she, of all people, gets what it feels like to need that, to be something instead of nothing. ]

So I was Robin for a while, then the Joker killed me, then I came back. And, you know, there was a while when I thought he'd... I don't know, that he'd break the rules just once for me? Because the way I came up, someone hits one of yours, you hit back. You hit so hard they can't ever touch your people again, and I figured if I was family, like he said, then maybe he'd do what it took to stop the Joker the only way he can be stopped.

[ His voice is tight. This is necessary context, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. ]

I was wrong. Shouldn't be a surprise, considering him, but... I guess I was kinda dumb when I was a kid.

So then I find out about Tim. Another smiling blue-eyed, black-haired boy in a cape. So not only is Bats picking us out to match whatever fetish he's got going, like he's getting a new puppy at the pet shop, but he's not even going to do more than throw the Joker in Arkham's revolving door before he puts up another cute little target in red and green. And I guess it's like any other relationship: you start asking yourself, "Did he use the same lines?" Did he give Tim that whole speech about how much he needed Robin, how he was special, the light to Batman's darkness, all that poetic fucking bullshit?

And no, because when I start looking into it, it's worse than that. Bats didn't pick this one, no, this one was so fucking smart and good and special that he figured everything out all on his own, and showed up demanding to get into the shortpants. Except he got his own custom uniform, too, lucky him.

[ He knows his face has twisted into something ugly as he's been talking, and he takes a moment to breathe and smooth his expression out. ]

I didn't believe, it, or didn't want to believe it. So I went to see for myself if he was as good as the stories said. It got ugly. ...But he really was that good.

[ If he hadn't been, if he hadn't convinced Jason that he really deserved the name Robin, Tim wouldn't have survived that fight. But that's not something Steph needs to know. ]

So yeah. I hate him on principle. No, that's not fair. But after all the shit I went through, I came back and there was this little rich kid who'd stepped right into my old life, like I was never even there.

Not gonna get over that anytime soon.

[ Oookay, so maybe she's opened a box full of awfulness she probably shouldn't have. Maybe she didn't really want to know all that, in the long run, or see the way Jason's face twists when he talks about Tim, and Bruce, and all of it...

But she understands. Can't blame him for it, certainly. She loves Tim, and if Jason touches him without a good reason she's going to come after him, but that feeling, that betrayal... Take the way Tim reacted when he found out she was Robin, multiply it by an awful, bloody death, Jason's past, the fact that Jason didn't know this kid the way Tim knew her, and Bruce's failure to make sure what happened to Jason never happened again...

She can understand that. She'd probably hate him too, in Jason's place. ]

I'm sorry. I didn't know... I mean. Thank you for telling me. You didn't have to.

[ She studies him for a moment, searching his face for something. ]

You don't hate me, though. I was Robin too, after you. [ There's a hesitance in the way she says it, like she's not sure of it herself. Even if Bruce told her, she can't convince herself he would have said it in any other situation, that he wasn't just trying to comfort the dying girl because he felt guilty for what happened to her. But Jason believes it, she thinks. She'll take that. ]

[ Child what is this. Jason sees your lack of what seems to be any survival instinct at all, and IT WORRIES HIM. ]

You've had enough people keeping stuff you should know from you. I'm not gonna add to that.

And yeah. You were Robin. [ He hears the hesitance when she says it, and it's practically instinct to put weight on those words in response, to make them as solid and real and sure as he can. ] You're not the Robin who replaced me, though. Think I used up all my anger on him.

Besides, it's nice to meet another member of the 'fucked over by Bruce Wayne' club.

[ pause ]

Speaking of which, please tell me you know that much, or do I need to give you the Bat family history from the very beginning?

[ Yes, this is a good change of subject: ALL BRUCE'S BATSECRETS. MUA HA HA. ]

[ She laughs softly, barely more than a sharp exhalation, and nods. ] Yeah, I know that part. You don't have to go all the way back to the beginning. I didn't know your name, or Nightwing's, but I got everyone else's eventually.

[ Some of their names, anyway... Thanks again for that, Bruce. ]

Dick Grayson. [ He grins a little. ] Bruce's first ward: circus brat, acrobat, and real-life Disney princess with a fabulous ass.

Seriously, you'd like him. He's bouncy and sociable and the closest thing to well-adjusted you can get in a family that's mostly made up of vigilante orphans.

[ The grin fades a moment later. ]

Hey... Tim's from the future, right? Think you could do me a favor and ask if Dick's still around? Things were looking pretty bleak for him, last I saw.

Edited 2015-04-30 04:00 (UTC)

[ Steph frowns a little, and considers asking what happened... but maybe she's asked enough potentially traumatic questions for one night. She nods. ]

Yeah. Of course.

...what was it like for you? Being Robin? Working with him? When did he start to... trust you?

[ And there's a hard question to answer, especially when he can guess at some of the pain that lies behind it... But he's already said he won't lie to her, or keep things from her. ]

It was amazing. I spent my whole life feeling like nothing I ever did could make a difference, and then suddenly, I could. And Bruce was... Maybe I wasn't Dick, but he didn't seem to mind so much at first? And he let me get away with logic like, "I'm Robin, and being Robin gives me magic."

[ He rolls his eyes -- yeah, he was a dumb kid, big deal -- but the levity seems forced, and a moment later he's staring at his hands. ]

The trust just sort of happened. At first, anyway. Maybe it's because he got me at the ripe old age of eleven, and even a juvenile record doesn't seem like such a huge deal for a kid that young? He could still train me up right. Or thought he could.

...Only not all the Bat-morality stuck, and then the trust went away real quick. I can tell you the exact moment I realized it, if you want.

[ Steph understands that feeling. When she first put on her Spoiler costume, when Bruce told her she could be Robin and for a while she thought she could be good enough... She might giggle at "being Robin gives me magic", but she believed that too, for a while.

And... then it sounds more like the Bruce she knew, and she can't imagine how much worse that would have been after working with him for years. ]

You don't have to... [ She wants to know, but that's... a lot to ask someone to go into just because she's curious. ]

No, but... fuck it. I promised myself I'd tell you the truth, baby bird.

[ He takes a breath, considers just how much context is necessary, and then he starts talking. ]

I was already... Bruce would say I'd been acting erratic. From my perspective... there are certain things I can't forgive. Can't go easy on. So when we were dealing with pimps and guys who thought child pornography was a lucrative line of work... I didn't show as much restraint as he wanted. Did some stupid shit that got more people hurt in the long run because I was too impatient to do things by the book.

[ That's a hard thing to admit. He screwed up a bust that could've taken down an entire pornography ring, not just a few guys... and he still hasn't forgiven himself for that, for all the kids he couldn't save.

...Of course, the nice thing about the "kill them all" philosophy is that he doesn't have to worry about making sure the police have everything they need, but that's not relevant to this particular story. ]

So we went after this rapist who just happened to be a diplomat's son, and who was able to spin diplomatic immunity in a way that let him walk free instead of being held for extradition. And the first thing he did when he got out was to call up his victim, so she'd know he was coming for her again.

[ quietly ] ...She killed herself before we could get to her.

So I went after him, and Batman showed up in time to watch him fall off his balcony and go splat. And when he looked at me... [ And this is where he looks away, staring at a point just past Steph's shoulder rather than meet her eyes directly. ] I knew he'd already made up his mind about what happened. He asked me, "Robin, did Filipe fall... or was he pushed?" like he was looking for a confession. [ He's not a perfect mimic, but even if he can't match Bruce's growling baritone, he can mimic the cadence, the roughness of Batman's voice, the suspicion overlaying every word. ]

And that was when I knew. The trust was gone, and no matter what I said...

Well, I told the truth. Just not all of it. And it still didn't make any difference.

Edited (trigger warned) 2015-05-13 07:41 (UTC)

[ Steph doesn't answer right away. She sits there, frowning at her bedspread while she thinks about it - smiles a little sardonically at Jason's mimickry of Bruce, because she can recognize that tone exactly, but it only lasts for a second.

She looks up at him finally and meets his eyes. ]

You didn't push him, did you? But you didn't catch him either?

I probably would have done the same thing. If it were me... Maybe that's why he never trusted me.

...I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve you.

[ And she gets it. She gets it. It's the reaction he's been hoping for for years now... and now that he's got it, he has no idea what to do with it. ]

Yeah. And you know him. It wouldn't have made any difference if I'd told him.

[ And those last words... His emotions have always sat close to the surface, and he can feel the tears gathering in his eyes at that. This wasn't supposed to be about him. And besides, it's not like he's that kid anymore. ]

...Things change, though. If I had to make the same decision over, I'd kill him. No regrets. That's not who I am anymore.

[ It's a warning. Or an attempt at one. ]

[ Steph studies him for a moment, searching his face, and then looks down. She shifts a little, moving just close enough that she can bump the toes of her boot up against his knee, one tiny point of contact because he looks like he might need it. She thinks he probably needs more than that, but she's not sure they're exactly on hugging terms yet. ]

He can't be right all the time. [ And she's... maybe been thinking a lot about Bruce's rules and whether they're worth it - one rule in particular. She can't exactly blame Jason for doing the same thing and making a choice.

She watches him a moment longer, and then asks, very quietly: ] You kill a lot of people? Or just... guys like that?

[ That little bit of contact doesn't go unnoticed. Or unappreciated. ]

You say that like there aren't a lot of guys like that. There are plenty. But if you want my rules for when it's acceptable to cross Bruce's precious line...

People who hurt kids. Which includes selling them drugs... though the drugs were one thing I gave warning for last I was in Gotham. Rapists, most pimps -- they're the same thing in a lot of cases, anyway -- and the kind of mass-murdering freaks who hop in and out of Arkham like it's their goddamn vacation home. Crazy, I can forgive, especially when you can tell they were trying. But the Joker, for instance? He's never going to get better. He enjoys being what he is too much to ever change.

[ He shrugs. ]

I'd have a lot more faith in the system if it working was the rule instead of the exception. As it is... I was lucky. Prison never did a thing to rehabilitate my dad, but at least he didn't beat on me or my mom when he got out. I knew a lot of kids who weren't that lucky, though. The release date would come closer, and you could just see the fear growing a little more every day.

Fuck that.

There's a point where you give up the right to call yourself human. And at that point... rabid animals make everyone and everything around them sick, too. Look at literally any American prison.

[ The intensity Steph's seen before is back now. He believes this, believes it so hard it hurts. He couldn't live with the departure from Bruce's sense of morality if he didn't.

There's a future -- probably more than one -- where his definition of acceptable targets grows exponentially, sure. But he's not there yet. ]

...I don't think what I do is good, for the record. I just think it's necessary.

[ Steph's eyes get a little wider as he talks - she has enough sense that that intensity makes her uneasy, and the idea that he could kill that often and not feel guilty about it... that does scare her. But what he says about kids' dads getting out of jail, about just plain crazy running wild in Gotham makes something twist in her gut, and she can't think of an argument against that. Not one.

She doesn't pull away from Jason, but she frowns and goes quiet for a long time, eyes fixed on her hands, fingers laced together so tightly her knuckles are going white. ]

I almost killed Black Mask. After he- After everything. I got his gun, I had him down, and I was... I was so close.

I didn't pull the trigger because Bruce wouldn't have wanted me to. [ She laughs, her chest so tight it comes out sounding like a sob. ] Because I couldn't let him down again.

I think I made the wrong choice.

...I'm sorry.

[ And for all that he may be a scary-intense killer, the sympathy and regret in his voice are unmistakably genuine. ]

It's never easy, disappointing him. I don't remember seeing God or anything when I died, but I wouldn't be surprised if God's disapproving face looked a lot like the Batman's. He's got that kind of... presence? Certainty? He makes you want to be better, for his sake. Makes you want to believe his way can be enough.

[ very quietly ] Even now, I think I'd give anything for him to be right. But he isn't.

...I would've killed Black Mask. And I think he needs to die. But whether you needed to kill him... that's another question. I don't buy Bruce's spiel about how there's no coming back once you cross the line, but it does change you. Maybe you would've done the world a favor if you'd killed him... and maybe you did yourself a favor by not doing it. I can't say. Which means I can't judge, either.

[ It's the best comfort he can give her, from a verbal standpoint. From a non-verbal one, though... There's an open hand in easy reach, and an invitation in his posture that has nothing to do with sex. Take what you need, baby bird. ]

[ Her shoulders slump a little in relief, and she has to close her eyes for a moment to fight back the unexpected tears welling up. She's been sick with guilt for months now - for not pulling the trigger, for even considering it, for second-guessing Bruce and for being the reason Black Mask is even still breathing. And nothing Jason says changes any of it, but just hearing someone outside of her own head say that maybe she did right after all... That means a lot.

She opens her eyes and sees the open hand, takes it and scoots a little closer. She's not sure enough to initiate a hug, but everything about her body language is screaming that she wants one. ]

Don't tell Cass. Or Tim. Please. They wouldn't...

They'd worry.

[ He just squeezes her hand for a moment, feeling the tension in her grip. And then, because she still seems like she needs more, he moves to pull her into a hug, just slow enough to telegraph every movement, to give her plenty of room to pull away if she needs to. ]

Hey, it's okay. I won't say a word.

[ Steph doesn't resist as he pulls her closer - she leans in to rest her weight against him, wraps an arm around him and buries her face in his chest. She lets out a slow, shuddering breath, grip tightening for a second before some of the tension goes out of her body.

Sure, she barely knows him. Sure, he's a little scary and intense and murdery on occasion. He's also a former Robin. He's family. He's safe. ]

Thanks, big bird.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

002

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

tw for discussion of rape and suicide

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject