Author: likeamantra
Arabella | Red Hood and Batgirl | Zero Year Flashback [Completed]
He leaned against the brick wall, one foot kicked against the wall, as she ran down the list of things she thought he should do. He let her talk, let her finish.
“That’s the thing, Batsie. I’m a bat, just not his bat.”
He unzipped his worn brown leather jacket, revealing the upper half of his black armor. The stylized bat he’d put there as a last minute decision was muted, bloodred. His voice was low as he responded to her.
"I’m not a sign of hope, some urban legend to frighten the weak. I’m a warning, a sign of what will happen to evil.”
Zipping the leather back up, he shook his head, slowly.
"I’ll only go to him if I’m desperate. But you? You’re different. You’re independent. Headstrong. Doesn’t seem like you take much shit from anyone above you. I respect that."
Pulling out a basic prepaid phone, he tossed it to her, watching it sail through the air.
"There’s only one number in it. Anytime you want some help, call it. I’ll show up.”
Stepping forward, he brushed past her, hand lingering just a second on her hip as he strode by. Turning his head back, he nearly whispered, letting the words float behind him.
“Thanks for the assist, Batsie. See you around.”
Barbara sneered, hint of a smile playing at her lips as she shook her head. “You only think you aren’t a symbol of hope. I’m sure that girl in there would argue differently.” Snatching the phone midair, she gave it a once over before tucking it into her belt. No acknowledgement beyond a quick nod of her head was made. As much as her mind was telling her it was a bad idea, you didn’t discard allies. Truthfully, if their last meeting was any proof, she needed all the assistance she could get.
His hand swept against her, and she swallowed back a lump, her beating heart pushing against her ribs. She stared at him for longer than was comfortable, her posture stiff. Barbara didn’t respond to his farewell, the words too twisted in her mouth. As soon as he was out of sight, she turned toward the wall and slammed her fist against the brick. Wincing, she walked back into the clinic, rubbing her swelling knuckles.
One day her temperament would get the better of her. Until then she would continue making stupid, impulsive mistakes.
Barbara sat with the young woman as she came out of the recovery unit, holding her hand and reading from the outdated magazine pile. Tonight had been a bruise to her ego, especially since it was clear the girl would have preferred it if Hood had stayed instead of her. She took it in stride, though, too exhausted to care.
It was well past dawn when Barbara made her way home, tired, worn eyes barely able to stay open. Her normally busy mind was finally quiet enough to allow her rest, no matter how fleeting it would be.
[COMPLETED]
There’s a Rat at Your Boot || Jason & Dick || Flashback
It was a dark night with the moon being just a sliver in the sky. While it was cold, there wasn’t a wind to carry the frost through chilled skin and bones. Gotham was melting the last of the winter snows away, warming her people up with stagnant air and the occasional hiss of steam from out of the grates of underground subway lines.
The sounds of sirens in the distance and of fighting down below became white noise as the minutes went by. Eventually, the homeless mob broke apart and each of them shuffled in opposite directions. The entertainment was gone, a saddening thought. Sighing, the kid swung his legs back and forth, leaned back to look for the stars, and almost fell off the ledge when he saw crimson in place of black smog.
It was nearing four AM. His stomach growled in hunger.
“You’re here,” he managed to say without too much surprise coloring his voice. He scrambled to stand up, If his guesses were correct, this would be a test of wills. Red Hood was stubborn so he needed to be that way too. One of the paint cans toppled over as he stood and clattered as it rolled to a stop a few feet away.
He stared at it to give him something to do because just like that, all his words had gone away. Everything important he felt he needed to say disappeared, leaving a sticky feeling in his mouth.
“Uh,” he breathed and realized that this was probably just as awkward as he felt it was. He was a confident kid, always had been, but these were deep, unknown waters he was treading into and Dick wasn’t exactly sure he wouldn’t be shot in the head for it all. As if by some miracle, he remembered his manners and hastily swiped his hand on his pant leg, offering it out to Red Hood. “Hi."
The boy nearly jumped out of his skin when Jason spoke; he was nervous, scared. Unsure. Stumbling around a greeting, he about tripped off the roof. He arched an eyebrow, knowing that the boy couldn’t see.
"Hi, Kid.”
He took the proffered hand, pumping it twice in a handshake before turning it palm up, examining the scars and calluses that covered the skin. Satisfied, he let it drop back to his side.
“You’ve lived a rough life. Calluses, plus your body type, mean gymnast, or trapeze artist. Scars suggest a hard-earned education in knives and blades. Add in the trouble you’ve made for me, and I’d guess you ran away from the circus. That, or you’ve made a damn fine habit of treating the city like your playground.”
He swiveled his head, nodding at the dozens of red bats littering the walls.
"Impressive stuff. I don’t suppose you used a rig, which means either free climbing or a rope. Either way, it’s ballsy, just to get my attention.”
He straightened, bringing himself to his full height now.
“What do you want? Here’s your chance, Kid.”
Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey | Jason and Eddie | Flashback
Alright. In hindsight, it may have been better to have just let bygones be bygones—not mention the untreated heart condition he suspected the lout to have, stolen his car keys and, far more importantly, the flash-drive in his pocket and called it a productive night. He probably shouldn’t have suggested that the bodyguard was having an affair with the man’s wife either. He had no basis of that knowledge, but he was…unimpressed with the dialogue exchange and felt like ruining a few lives would be pleasant. For him, anyway. Too much long term gratification, not enough immediate planning.
And then the standing and the swearing, spittle flying everywhere and of course, the shoving. He had no time to plant his feet, and doubted it would have made much of a difference. He stumbled back, tripping over his own shoes, landed heavily in a nearby booth. Right. Bottle of some expensive liquor or other to his left. A sigh, barely concealed. Addicts were such animals. He used to be one of them—dreadful. Disgusting. He considered his options, calculating. Smash the bottle on the table and jab into the eyes? Or smash the bottle over big-wig’s head and hope for a concussion? Not hard to aim for the temple. Eyes were more effective though, a far better target. He supposes he could kick out and break the nose. As it turned out, he didn’t have to because the booth’s patron is standing.
He, whoever he was, was quite frankly, huge. Easily over two hundred pounds, and even at a glance, this was a man who knew how to handle himself. Went straight for a pressure point—maximum pain, minimal force or exertion. Knew what he was doing, definitely. Interesting. Protective too, didn’t like authoritative figures. People pushing weaker people around. Eddie folded one long leg over the other, settling back against the bench to observe the rest of the scene. The finance…whoever he was—lab rat really, inconsequential—his employers were far more interesting…went staggering off. He suppressed a chuckle, rearranged his lapels.
When the man turned…His eyes. There was something wrong with them. Not heterochromia, no he had that himself. Iris implants, perhaps? Unlikely, hard to schedule and to justify. He felt like it was rude to stare and to ask fbgj he wanted to blurt out the question, regardless. He considered the volume of liquid missing from the bottle, decided to hold his tongue. The tone was friendly enough when he was spoken to, Eddie refrained from rolling his eyes.
“God, no.” Extremely evident disdain. “You couldn’t pay me to touch a hooker of his”
Blunt, as always. He supposed he could summon up a thank you, make it sound relatively genuine.
"Thankfully I’m not his waitress, and thank you…Jay, for your…intervention. Well timed.”
He’d avoided the main question, wondered if he ought to buy another bottle for his new acquaintance.
He wasn’t blind, and the stranger wasn’t subtle. He caught the lingering stare, knowing what had caught his attention. Jason’s eyes weren’t exactly normal, and they attracted attention. Very nearly luminescent, and a pale blue that seemed to glow with an electricity that came off as supernatural. Blame Talia, and her secrets about his resurrection.
“That’s probably best, man. She’s damaged goods."
He laughed, then swirled the remnants of his whiskey around his glass, looking down.
"You show a lot more restraint than most at a bar, friend. I’ve had people follow me to the bathroom just to ask about my eyes. Nice tact."
He was looking up now, drilling into the man’s own eyes, letting him see just what Jay was talking about.
"Don’t mention the rescue. I’ve wanted an excuse to hurt him for a while now. Drink?"
He lifted the bottle, tipping it to the stranger.
"And I need a name, pal. It’s that, or you get a new nickname.”
The smile showed it as a joke, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Day for the Dead (to Dance among the Living) | Jason and Roy
The hug was the last thing Roy had expected at this point. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t think he’d ever get it, especially not from Jason, not after what he’d done, not after the punch the other had just landed. But, when it happened, the ex- SEAL couldn’t do much but let out a deep, shaky breath. He knew he’d been holding it (that much didn’t come as a surprise) and with it, he found the strength to lift his arms, hugging Jason back with a grip that spoke just how much he needed it.
“Yeah, Bud.” And he hoped his friend would ignore the breaking in his voice. “I missed you too.” After a moment’s hesitation, Roy pulled back from the embrace, nodding as he cleared his throat.
“Shit. You have no idea how good getting wasted sounds right now.” The red head let a slow grin spread, though it seemed slightly reserved, his cheeks flushed with emotion. “I’d like to say I cut back but, you know what they say about old habits.”
Jason grinned, clapping a hand on Roy’s shoulder.
“Well, I just so happen to have a fully stocked bar back downstairs. Let’s get us down there, then I can have a crack at that lump of metal you’re calling an arm now.”
He punched his bicep as he turned away from him, all the emotions and awkward feelings gone, for now. They’d been brothers too long to waste time hating each other. Blood had been spilled for the other, by the other. There was no closer bond, regardless of how angry they made each other.
“You’re a prick, Roy. Can’t believe you weren’t dead.”
The lift was taking them down now, and Jason filled the silence with his usual means of inducing stress, perfected with Dick these last few years.
“I was sad, man. I won’t let you live that down.”
Fireside | Jason and Kory | Blackout
“But she’s with him.”
That was enough in Kori’s eyes. If the other woman was an assassin, wouldn’t her talents be wasted fighting alongside Batman? What good could she possibly do? Even more-so, what could she gain from it? She wouldn’t be working to her full potential, so what was the point?
Of course, Kori hadn’t exactly been working to her full potential this past year, either, but that was different. She was shattered by Roy’s death, smashed into little pieces and scattered in the wind. For the first time in the princess’ life, she was selfish. She was afraid. She ran away and tore herself from anything and everything that would remind her of what she lost — Jason included.
Kori knew it was wrong and it only made her more upset at herself, but she couldn’t stop it. While she’d dealt with so much pain and suffering in her life, she’d never lost someone she loved before. She’d never loved anyone before. Being there for Jason, for Dick, wasn’t an option, as much as she wanted it to be. At the time, she couldn’t even look at them without her heart breaking. It killed her to be away from them, to leave them in the dust, but at the time, it seemed to be the lesser of two evils.
Her brows furrowed at the little slip, lips turning downward into a small frown. Great, something else he clearly wasn’t telling her.
"That’s not the point, Jason,” she said, shaking her head, “I shouldn’t have to even think about needing to level whatever they throw at me. I’ve been retired for a year, it shouldn’t be an issue at all.”
She had tried to start over since Roy’s death, cleanse herself of all the negative energy in her life. While Jason wasn’t necessarily negative energy, Kori needed time to figure herself out. After a few months, she realised that she may have taken too long. It wasn’t that she was afraid to go back, per se, she just thought it may have been too late.
Kori’s jaw clenched again at the word family. The little bat certainly wasn’t her family, so if she was Jason’s, then Kori must not have been a part of his anymore. She’d done it to herself, she supposed, but that was a two-way street. Jason had made no move to try and get her to come back to the Outlaws, or even to just come over and hang out. It went both ways.
“I’m done asking,” she said, albeit a bit bitterly, “But, if there’s anything you wish to tell me, perhaps now is a good time to do so.”
It was, in a sense, a veiled threat. She wanted to know what was going on with him — not because she felt entitled to, but because she really did care. Kori was guilty that she’d severed her bond with him; however, that didn’t mean she was going to force information out of him. If he valued their relationship as much as she did (despite her not being very good at showing it as of recent), he’d tell her on his own.
“I don’t care who she’s with, Koriand’r.”
The jibe stung, just like he knew it would. He never used friend’s full names; always a nickname.
“Besides. You can’t seriously be challenging my definition of family, can you? What with your siren friends you have now?”
He was pissed, but her last statement pushed him into sarcasm and venom. He chuckled, darkly.
“Bit of a loaded question, isn’t it?”
There was nearly a year’s worth of shit to tell her. From his own sabbatical to Batgirl to the new government contract Redstone had on High Altitude, Low Orbit combat vehicles, he hadn’t been in a sharing mood since she got her new job.
“I’ve been working alone for a long time now. I don’t-haven’t-gone for flashy since you left. It’s time to change that. We’ll be at the Prison in fifteen minutes.”
He knew she’d call him out, but he wasn’t going to just give up any information ffreely. She was his friend, not his guardian. He didn’t owe her anything, not anymore.
Arabella | Red Hood and Batgirl | Zero Year Flashback
Arms had been crossed and uncrossed over her chest at least a half dozen times, weight shifting from one leg to the other. If she didn’t feel like Hood would immediately call her out, she would have anxiously began pacing up and down the dilapidated sidewalk. She still had a few ounces of dignity left, although they were hanging on by a thread. Instead, she opted to lean against the cool brick of the old building, hazy vision spanning up to the darkened sky.
It took more than a few moments to gather her thoughts and even then they weren’t exactly clear in her head. There was still part of her that felt like she should have stayed behind; a guilt that was eating into her gut. She’d had that feeling more and more lately; perhaps it was a side effect of her new persona. Or maybe it was just her empathy kicking into overdrive.
Hood’s gratitude, spoken practically under his breath and thrown into the night air, startled her. Barbara didn’t show it, but it was definitely surprising. Of course, he’d done nothing but do that exact same thing since the night they’d met. This was beginning to become a theme: the Red Hood consistently defying her expectations.
Rubbing her eyes with the heels of gloved palms, she pushed herself off the masonry, one eyebrow arched up in question. “Yeah, you kind of did piss me off. If you wanted to use someone solely for their symbolism or name,” She pointed to the bat on her chest with her index finger. “You should have gone directly to him.” Crouching down, she ran her hands over the mismatched pavement. “I don’t need a sidekick.” Barbara stared at the ground for several silent moments before snapping her head up towards the helmeted man. “You should go have them check your wound. As many gadgets and tools as I have in my belt, I don’t have a doctor.” A tiny smile pulled at her mouth as she slowly stood up.
“I don’t need a sidekick. But I wouldn’t say no to assistance with patrol. We could always add some bat ears to your helmet.”
He leaned against the brick wall, one foot kicked against the wall, as she ran down the list of things she thought he should do. He let her talk, let her finish.
“That’s the thing, Batsie. I’m a bat, just not his bat.”
He unzipped his worn brown leather jacket, revealing the upper half of his black armor. The stylized bat he’d put there as a last minute decision was muted, bloodred. His voice was low as he responded to her.
“I’m not a sign of hope, some urban legend to frighten the weak. I’m a warning, a sign of what will happen to evil."
Zipping the leather back up, he shook his head, slowly.
"I’ll only go to him if I’m desperate. But you? You’re different. You’re independent. Headstrong. Doesn’t seem like you take much shit from anyone above you. I respect that."
Pulling out a basic prepaid phone, he tossed it to her, watching it sail through the air.
"There’s only one number in it. Anytime you want some help, call it. I’ll show up.”
Stepping forward, he brushed past her, hand lingering just a second on her hip as he strode by. Turning his head back, he nearly whispered, letting the words float behind him.
“Thanks for the assist, Batsie. See you around.”
I wonder where she came from
I wonder where she’s gotta go
Who’s to say she’s single? Who’s to say she’s on her own?
-Girls like that don’t sleep alone-That girl is flawless
And I know I’m not the first one to think that
And since I’m not the first
I sure won’t be the last
Spend my whole life lookin’ behind my back?
I just don’t think I’m up to that
Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear
But not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear
and all of this will never be the same again 