[file under: things that Dick Grayson sees on a regular basis at the Compound]
Category: Uncategorized
Arabella | Red Hood and Batgirl | Zero Year Flashback
Back against the railing, Barbara slid down until she was seated on the roof. Chin in the palm of her hand, she looked at the Red Hood, curious expression plastered across her face. It was infuriating how difficult to read this guy was. The kind of frustration that got on your skin like a rash, a rash you couldn’t stop scratching. It wasn’t just the fact that he wore a helmet that completely covered his face. She was good, damn good, at reading body language, voice intonations, everything. But he was better at alluding her. It was maddening.
He was a puzzle, the kind that had no obvious resolution. She detested that more than anything. Her scientific, over calculating mind could figure out damn near anything. His reputation and actions were in direct conflict with each other. When she expected him to weave, he bobbed. When she expected him to be just another faceless killer in the Gotham night, he was rescuing a restaurateur’s daughter. He was unpredictable – and erratic wasn’t good, not when you needed to trust someone to have your back.
And now he wanted help with what she could only assume was preventing a girl from being sold into an underground sex trafficking ring.
Barbara rubbed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took in a deep breath. She couldn’t say no, declining his offer would mean someone would suffer and she wasn’t prepared to use an innocent as a pawn. Both gloved palms splayed out on the concrete roof, fingers idly playing with a rock.
“I’m not saying yes because I want you to owe me a favor. I’m saying yes because I can’t say no.” Hoisting herself back into a standing position, she turned on heel back towards him, eyes following the dark horizon. “Do you have anymore intel, because that’s not a lot to go on.”
Jason did, in fact, have more intel. The problem was proving it. The Dimitrov family was notoriously insular, and the only contact he had with them was a man who had also escaped the Gulag with Jason, all those years ago. Not a problem, usually, but Maxim Dominina was not most men. After returning to Russia, he had defected to the United States, joining a counterspy operation with the CIA. To involve him was to invite the government into Red Hood business, something Jason hoped to avoid.
“I know a little. Just enough to pinpoint their warehouse. It’ll take observation and surveillance to get anywhere real. Stakeout, like. You up for it?” The ‘imnottakinganyofyourshit’ look she gave him didn’t make him feel good about the operation, but he supposed that reluctant help was better than going it alone.
“All I ask is that you back me on this play. Can you manage that, Little Red?” With another shrug, he held his hands up, miming innocence. Couldn’t hurt, right?
“Jay. Remember that redhead at the Penitente Ball? The one you wouldn’t shut up about?”
Jason, in fact, did remember. She’d been avoiding his gaze all night, which both pleased him (because it meant she’d noticed him) and annoyed him (because she was obviously not there to enjoy herself). Even after he introduced himself-throwaway name, fake accent-, she’d acted nervous and aloof. No one acted that way around him, especially not the women who came to those get togethers.
“Yeah, Henri. I remember. The one in the Jackie O number.”
“Well, turns out she had a good reason to not want to be noticed. She’s the Commissioner’s kid.” Henri paused, letting that fact settle in.
“No shit?” Explained a lot. It wouldn’t exactly be good press for Jim if his daughter was apprehended at the Cartel’s biggest social function of the year.
“Any idea why she was there?”
“Not a clue. Thought you’d want to know, though.”
“Thanks, Henri. Keep an eye on her.”
Day for the Dead (to Dance among the Living) | Jason and Roy
Okay. So it was clear Jason wasn’t having a good night, if the sudden tensing, the controlled shake of his shoulders, was anything to go by (and of course, it was). But then again, when did the older man have a good night? By definition everything he did, everything he felt, it twisted up inside him, tearing harshly at his insides like barbed wire if you tried to pull it out. But Roy didn’t come here to shy away from what needed to be said, and apparently, that’s exactly what Jason wanted to hear.
“Aw, jeeze…” Scrubbing a hand through his hair, over his face and letting out a hefty sigh, Roy scuffed his boot against the worn roof top, kicking a small pebble and watching it fly over the edge. The red head would have liked to think the threat wasn’t real, that Jason, his best friend, wouldn’t really kill him. Rough him up a little? Sure. Give him the cold shoulder? Check. But kill him? Still, it had been two years, and for all he knew, this Jason was different. At least he hadn’t lost his affinity for chain smoking.
“I can’t really convince you not to kill me. We both know you’re gonna do what you want once you’re set on an idea, and I totally get you’re not my biggest fan at the moment. It’s just—” Roy cut himself off, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he resisted the anxious urge to wave them around, animated as he spoke.
“I’m gonna sound like a fuckin’ asshole, but I— Man, I didn’t have a say. In anything. If it were up to me, believe me, Jay— I’d be dead right now, just like you thought I was five minutes ago.” The ex- SEAL sucked in his cheeks, lips pursed as he debated his next move. Jason’s back was still to him, but he watched, fixed on the red glow of ash and the smoke that rose over the man’s broad shoulders. No matter what he said, he knew his friend (ex-friend?) was going to be disappointed, so Roy relented. If this was it for them, Jason at least deserved the truth for once.
“After I disappeared, I was sure I was done for. I mean, I dunno if you noticed,” He tried to joke. “I lost an arm. I was in shock, disoriented and cut off from communications. I didn’t know how to contact you guys, didn’t know how to cope with the.. handicap. I spiraled, dude. Self ‘medicated’ on heroin of all things.” The red head shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling self conscious and childish as he shared his vulnerability with the man he knew would be judging every word that came out of his mouth. He respected Jason so much, almost too much in fact, to the degree that every disappointing word that fell out of his mouth just made him want to turn tail and run again. “I was out of it maybe a couple months before Waller found me. She set me straight, got me back on my feet, on a team and it.. it was her decision to declare me dead. No contact. That way, there would only be the mission. I owed her, and you know how I am with debts…” He smiled lightly, remembered Jason couldn’t see him and sighed.
“I stayed with the team for almost two years before it occurred to me Amanda would never let me out of her debt, that I was there until I died. And I…” He shrugged. “Dunno. I realized I didn’t owe her anymore, that real families don’t owe each other, aren’t pawns for each other. So I walked. But, you know me, I’m the bad kid in foster care— I just leave one family and go on to the next. I came back because… Well, I was sorta hoping I hadn’t outstayed my welcome in this one.”
Roy wasn’t sure how Jason would feel about his words, but he had explained himself, had said what he needed to, and if the older man was still upset, he’d accept it. He’d be sad, upset, disappointed; but he’d understand.
“But, that’s not my decision. It’s yours.”
The tale of the lost archer should have roused sympathy in Jason’s heart. After all, he himself had been scared, lost, confused, broken-dead. Actually dead. That thought caused anger to well up in his chest like a vice, squeezing the air from his lungs, iron bars around his ribs.
Another cigarette, gone. He tried to purge the rage from him with every exhale, trying to make the smoke carry away two years of regrets and unfulfilled fury towards the people who had murdered his best friend. The source may have changed, but the cause was still there. It was only made more complicated now that Jason knew that Roy himself had been responsible for the death of Arsenal, and that didn’t calm Jason’s nerves at all.
He dug for another clove, only to find that he was already smoking the last one. Dammit. A response was expected here, and Jason wasn’t ready to talk yet. So he slowed down, savoring the last cigarette, watching the golden sunlight bathe the city in rays of life. He thought about the good that had come from Roy’s death, the bonding he’d had with Dick in his absence. Happier things. Slowly, his anger faded, just enough to feel reasonably confident that he wouldn’t put rounds in Roy’s chest.
He turned around.
The sight of him-scruffy beard, thick jawline, copper hair. The bulky arms, bigger than Jason’s own. Stocky, as if a giant had been compressed into a six foot frame by being squashed slightly. The clothes that looked like they’d been tossed out from a Goodwill donation site. The eyes, broken and weary and sad-snapped him out of the semi calm he’d managed to muster up.
“I should have expected it, you know. Your inevitable betrayal.” Great start, Jason. “I went to Star City, about six months after you disappeared. Talked to the Green Arrow.” He paused, locking eyes with Roy. “He didn’t even know you were dead.” Jason saw the hurt in his eyes, and it made him feel slightly better.
“He told me about how you up and left for the Navy one day, with no warning. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it coming. I mean shit, Harper, you did the exact same fucking thing with me!” Jason was yelling now, fully past the point of holding back.
“You had people who cared about you. You had a woman who loved you, who stuck up for you when I was sick of your bullshit. You had a family, but the genius Roy Harper doesn’t need that, does he?” Jason exhaled, running a hand through his black and white hair.
This conversation was reminding him far too much of the one he’d had with Bruce, the one that ended in blood and pain and broken bones and nothing accomplished except for seeing another man’s regrets come to the surface of his soul. Jason didn’t want to fight, not here, not with Roy. So he swallowed the urge to deck the man, instead taking one step closer to him.
“You showed us you don’t care. You have nothing to return to. Why are you here?”
Behind the Screens || Tim & Jason
Tim didn’t much care for the silence that followed his questions. The prolonged hesitation, the assumed thoughts that could fester in no time at all— the boy had learned not to trust those types of silence. He supposed maybe Red Hood had been caught off guard by the recognition, had stalled for time, as if he hadn’t thought of the phone originally and was embarrassed but no—
“Still dead.”
Still. That meant he had already tried calling before. Letting out an exaggerated huff that sounded absolutely ridiculous to his own ears through the filter on his mask, the young teen put aside any thoughts of chastising Dick until a later date. He shouldn’t be surprised really, that three years out of contact, and they reunite through what Tim can only assume is the older teen’s own rashness mixed with a side of some of Gotham’s most impressive vigilante’s.
“How do you know him?”
That was a question Tim didn’t quite know how to answer as he continued to weed through the information in front of him. Another way, there had to be a faster way to find Dick and while he thought about that, he considered his answer as well, always the multitasked. We lived on the streets together during the occupation? He saved my life and maybe I saved his too? He’s like a brother to me?
None of those things seemed to do justice at explaining and all those things risked his identity. Giving even a little to a man like the red hood was dangerous to himself and right now, that identity was all he had. Besides, if Hood confronted Dick about it later, the other teen was prone to give him away unless he knew Tim’s identity needed to be protected. But he hasn’t spoken to the other in so long, how would Dick possibly know. Unless— well, he supposed maybe Dick had forgotten their codes, it had gotten them out of much worse situations before, it was at least worth a try now.
“He used to do the thinking for both of us.” He stated matter-of-factly. No intonation, no hesitation, and he hoped, no room for further questioning. It was a code, sure, but the hacker didn’t feel as if he was lying either.
He had been a scrawny twelve year old, sheltered with a weak immune system. But Dick… Well the boy always seemed to know the solution and was quick to take care of both of them, especially when Tim was in over his head. Which in all fairness to Dick, was always. The younger teen felt guilty, he owed Dick, and even after the older teen disappeared suddenly, Tim couldn’t quite find it in himself to be mad. So he’d been with Red Hood all this time, huh? Briefly he realized, they were killers. So did that mean Dick..?
Shaking the thought from his head, Tim didn’t think about it, focusing on setting up the facial recognition system instead. It didn’t take much time, but finding a modern reference to program in as comparison took a bit longer. Dick’s school files were too old, Tim didn’t trust his own memory to program a specific coding and he doubted hacking into Red Hood’s base with the assassin poised over his shoulder would be a very good idea. Hating himself for how long it was taking him to come up with a solution, Tim twisted in his seat, the large leather chair following the forty five degree arc as the hacker used the adjacent computer to pull up another program. Red Stone security was a company known to be associated with Hood and maybe if this man visited the company, Dick would too.
Eyes focused, Tim let his fingers do the thinking, pulling down the company’s firewalls and pulling up the employee and customer files instead. If the Red Hood had used Dick’s full name while remaining secretive about his own identity, chances were his protégé didn’t hide in civilian life. From there, it didn’t take long to find Dick’s information complete with identification photo. With a quick, relieved breath, the young hacker transferred it into the proper software, beginning the search through Gotham.
Smart. That’s what the girl was. And, knowing Dick’s penchant for making unfortunate friends, probably hideous. Jay knew enough about the crowds Dick ran with to have formed a track record. Sorry Kid, your friends are weird. There was the kid with the green hair, the girl with the bracelets, and that ginger boy who couldn’t seem to sit still. All distinctly off.
Her answer betrayed a certain reverence, as if the bond that connected his pupil and this hacker was something sacred. Dick had never spoken about her before; then again, Dick didn’t talk to Jason about much in the way of social life. He’d learned long ago that Jason didn’t overly care about Dick’s habits, so long as he showed up on time for lessons and worked hard.
Odd, to see someone your pupil was obviously intimate with up close. Odder still that Jason knew nothing of the girl. He hadn’t even heard that Bruce had a new member of his zoo, let alone one so young and fresh. The League had called new acolytes “nqaij”, which roughly translated into “meat”. Talia had enjoyed informing the wide eyed children that their lives were no longer their own, that who they were to become was not their own identity any more. Idly, Jason wondered if Bruce had any such indoctrination rules.
Without moving a muscle, the Red Hood watched as the girl opened up Redstone Security’s firewalls like they were made of paper, digging around in files that could cause World War 3, if leaked. It’s a good thing all Hood business is off the books. Does Ilya know how easily the system is broken? This is embarrassing.
She had found what she was looking for, however-a file on Dick-and left the security system just as she found it. Relieved, Jason let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding. She uploaded the picture into the facial recognition software he’d noticed earlier, and sat back.
There was no telling how long the search would take, and even Jason was curious enough to talk to the girl. So, as the computer churned, he spoke.
“What do they call you around here, anyway? Batling? Fruit Bat? Count Chocula?” He knew the choices weren’t right, but they had made him smile. Who knew, maybe this one had a sense of humor. It was bound to happen eventually, right?
From the dusty mesa
Her looming shadow grows
Hidden in the branches
Of the poison CreosoteShe twines her spines up slowly
Towards the boiling sun
And when I touched her skin
My fingers ran with blood
and all of this will never be the same again 