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)
driftfleet2015-04-27 12:38 am
asinisterkid) wrote in driftfleet2015-04-27 12:38 am
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. ]
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. ]
no subject
But kid is the operative word here, and he's not quite that much of a troll, so instead, he heads for a fire escape a ways ahead of her, and drops down onto it, letting the rattle of the metal underneath him alert her to his presence. ]
Hey. Are you looking for something in particular, or just exploring?
no subject
[Hey head turns toward the ladder and she smiles up at him.
You, dude! Whoever you are. She's looking for you!
Jinx waves, and then gestures around approvingly. Nice place ya got here.]
no subject
He smiles back. ]
You like? Welcome to Gotham City. I'd call it home, but home is the part of town that's not this nice. This is the part with the best rooftops, though.
[ Still, if she's on the ground, it's only polite to take this conversation down to ground level. He hops between the fire escape he's on and the next one over, zigzagging his way down until he can drop to street level. ...Hey, it's quicker than the stairs. ]
I'm Jason. You got a place like this, wherever home is?
Late late late sooooo sorry
Yeah. New York City, center of the universe and all that.]
Jinx.
[She doesn't explain whether that's her name or the answer to his question, but just starts to wander through his simulation, poking her head down an alley way.
She kind of has to wonder which end of the crime spectrum he sits on. Skulking on roofs isn't actually that much of a thieving habit.]