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
He benched me. And I... I found out that the woman I thought was my birth mom wasn't. My actual birth mom was still alive out there somewhere, so... I took advantage of Bruce's millions and hopped on a plane, and to hell with what Bruce wanted. I thought... I thought she'd want me, I guess. And so I figured that when I finally met her... that things would be okay again. Maybe I'd be less pissed off at everything.
She was an aid worker in Ethiopia. Of course, because this shit always happens, the Joker was there, too. Selling Joker toxin to terrorists, trying to buy nukes, generally ruining everything.
[ He's glossing over details, leaving things out... but then, he's not sober enough for a fully coherent narrative at the moment. Hopefully she'll get the gist of it. ]
Bruce followed, but Batman had to go deal with the toxin. He told me to stay put, to not try anything, but... My mom was mixed up with the Joker. I thought I could save her. I tried. I told her I was Robin. I promised her I could help.
...She handed me over to him. The Joker him. She'd been embezzling for years, and if the Joker's crimes came to light, hers would too. So she gave him Robin. And he beat the shit out of me with a crowbar. And then he locked us both in that warehouse with a bomb. I couldn't defuse it in time.
So just before I came here? I had a plan. Me, the Joker, a crowbar and a bomb, but this time, he'd be the one bleeding. And with Bats as a special guest. I wanted him to see it, you know? I wanted to see if he could look me in the eye and tell me that letting the Joker live after what he did to me was still the moral choice.
And at the end, he would have to choose. He could either watch me kill the Joker... Or he could kill me. I left him a gun. He could've shot me right in the face, if letting the Joker live was that important to him.
Instead, he threw a Batarang that got me right here. [ He indicates the spot, now healed without even a scar. Thanks, Atroma. ] External carotid. Death in four minutes. The jugular would've killed me in one. See, it's not killing if you've got four minutes to stop someone from bleeding out, right?
He cut my throat open with a Batarang, and took the chance that I might live if he got to me in time, to save the fucking Joker. The same Joker who got my detonator when I went down, so that 'saving me' thing Bats might have been planning on? Yeah, that never happened, because everything went boom.
[ His voice goes quiet, pained. ] It would've been kinder to just shoot me. Then I wouldn't have to live with knowing which one of us he chose.\
[ Fuck you, he's not crying.
...He's totally crying. ]
no subject
But the idea that he'd choose the Joker over his son is more than she'd have expected even from him. She's not sure she'd have believed it if it were someone other than Jason telling her, but she's sure he's not lying and Bruce... Bruce did that.
She remembers to breathe again, anger flaring white-hot in her chest and she has nowhere to direct it now. Instead, she scoots a little closer and wraps an arm tight around Jason's shoulders. He's so big compared to her, her arm just barely wraps around them, but it's the thought that counts. ]
He was wrong. He chose wrong. You were his partner and he should have picked you over... everything. If he didn't... that's on him.
no subject
The thing that really gets me, though?
I'm pretty sure he would've killed the Joker for Dick. Dick's the golden boy. The real Robin.
Maybe for Tim, too. He's pretty far up Batman's ass.
...Sorry. Boyfriend, I know. I'm an asshole. But he really kind of is. Or was, when I met him.