metalogs | ( closed ) twisted steel beneath my knees

( it doesn't matter. he doesn't like guns.

when the thug comes stumbling into him, he grabs him by the collar, stares him down sharply, then throws him to the ground with his buddy. the way the shadows grow and stretch behind him, it doesn't take him needing to say anything for them to get to their feet to take off and it's just as well, bruce figures.

of course, that leaves him almost glaring back to jason before he begins to turn. )

What do you want?

( why are you here? )

( he almost, almost starts going on a tangent akin to: your parents got shot to death, so what? but manages to stop his mouth long enough to run through how that'd go: the comparison between bruce's tragic backstory to jason's parents and how jason responds to people doing the same shit that got his killed and decides - you know what, it's not worth it. especially when bruce is out here trying to be scary with the local thugs. and it's not as if it's been so long that jason doesn't remember why he'd gone for dual pistols. partially because - he's got great aim, but also because he knew it'd piss off his bruce. )

Just checking in. Since you took off again.

( as the resident ghoster, it's very rude of bruce to be trying to take jason's thing. )

I'm busy.

( which isn't a lie. he has been busy. working on his bike, on adrenaline shots he's attempting to manipulate, his suit. the bulk of his things are still in excelsior due to his not having found anything he likes in terms of a batcave in central yet, so. he's out here. being purposefully busy.

and he'd told diana where he was going this time, so.

his cape flows through the breeze that comes, turned and facing away from jason as he goes, steps heavy from the boots. he's absolutely walking away. absolutely giving a cold shoulder of sorts. absolutely pissed about something and keeping it to himself. )

Uh huh.

( jason knows better. he knows bruce makes things to keep himself busy, that he has a never-ending to-do list he can go through and call it being busy. jason knows, because he has a never-ending to-do list he also uses to keep himself entertained - especially given the severe lack of his usual brand of shit to get involved in. it's junior's turf in central, he's still got his place out in nyc, but he doesn't spend as much time there as he would need to if he moved his operation out that way.

instead of pointing it out, he just kicks up his bike's kickstand and pulls it along with him as he follows after bruce. )

I've got somethin' for you, if you've got somewhere private we can go for a minute. 'll leave you alone after.

( for a minute anyway. )

I'm not in the mood to throw hands with you.

( because a punch to the face? sounds like something jason would have for him. )

( the eye-roll might not be visible under the mask, but the way he rolls his head at the same time probably makes it obvious what he's doing. )

If I wanted to start a fight with you, I could've done it from three hundred miles away. I didn't need to come all the way over here for that.

( he's about to say something — or maybe not. who knows with bruce sometimes. but he turns to glance back over his shoulder and that's when he catches sight of the thug behind them with a gun aimed at jason's back. he's at a distance — it's not point blank. but it would still injure him if he shot. something that bruce doesn't let happen.

swiftly, a batarang is thrown out from under his cape and bruce is right there with jason. arm up. posture slightly turned. a means to serve as a human shield of sorts for the other. despite the batarang thrown, the shot gets fired right as the 'rang thunks it out of the guy's hand, and bruce takes the hit the shoulder. his suit can handle it. but the impact still hurts and he grits his teeth in anger at that, huff under his breath. )

( bruce's reaction would have been entirely fair, if jason wasn't wearing his gear. sure, his shit looks. . . thinner than bruce's. less obvious armor, more ab-fitting rather than i built my abs onto this. and there's the whole - jason knew that guy was lurking around being sneaky, he was just waiting for the right time to turn around and fuck him over.

instead, bruce beats him to it, because of course he does. and jason idly turns around to face him. resists the urge to roll his eyes yet again. )

Before I bitch at you for being a dramatic asshole - you want me to get him, or do you want him? Since you've already put yourself between us an' all.

( it had been a kneejerk reaction. something maybe some part of him had wished he'd done for his parents. he was only a child, there was nothing he could have done, he's heard it plenty of times from alfred. but that doesn't make one stop thinking about what they could have or should have done. even if it made no sense. even if it would have been stupid. those thoughts never really go away. not when you're carrying the sort of trauma and survivors guilt bruce carries.

again, there's a sharp look from bruce at jason and rather than give an answer with his own words, he knocks his shoulder roughly against jason's. moves past him. guess that means he'll handle it himself.

like a creature of the night, he stalks towards his prey. steps heavy, shadows stretching behind him. the guy is reaching for his gun — for another shot to take and bruce moves with a swiftness, cape flowing behind as he does. he's angry, he's bruised, and he's fed up with being shot at tonight. or at having one of his shot at.

before another shot can be taken, he barrels into the guy, knocking him back, and they both fall into a pool of black ink — a shadow — that appears behind, disappearing within it. the slick looking shadow disappearing as well.

shadows are what bruce and jason are capable of moving through, so it's not a jarring sight to see. even if that particular shadow did look a little different than usual.

one, two, three, four... five seconds tick by before the guy falls out of another shadowy pool a few feet away. as before, the shadow disappearing. or maybe closing. like a door. bruce nowhere to be seen.

he's coughing, stumbling about for a second before he's reaching for his gun and pointing it at jason. hand a little shaky, but he gives a laugh. throws jason a he's dead. killed that sonuva bitch and you're next! before a shaky hand shoots at jason. )

( bruce is in a bitchy mood, and jason knows better than to get in the middle of him and kicking over assholes when he's like this. it's the look bruce throws jason - eyes visible in a way he's not quite accustomed to yet, but it also means the fuck off and let me handle it is right there, visible in more ways than just the way he shoulders his way on through.

they've both got some control over shadows, but jason's never leaned into it as hard as bruce is. he recognizes it when it's bruce versus just the trick of a light though; notices the inky black shadows expanding under them that aren't natural. doesn't say a word, when bruce and the guy fall through them.

because bruce is plenty capable of taking care of himself, jason doesn't need to go in after him even if he's got no idea where the hell he'd dropped himself off at. he's limited to the shadows he can see, what's visible right in front of him. bruce's line of sight doesn't give him much advantage over jason, so he should have popped up - somewhere around here. he doesn't, but the thug does.

jason doesn't blink. he pulls a bruce: lets the shadows consume him where he stands to take the impact of the bullet, before he's idly raising a throwing knife, and aiming straight for the guy's eye socket. there's none of his usual bravado, no snark, he's just - waiting for the guy to double over himself with a choked out curse before sauntering his way on over. lowers a hand to grab onto the guy by the back of his head, fingers twisting painfully into his hair to pull him up as jason leans down, closer. )

You wish it was that easy. If it was, I'd've killed him several times over.

( he's laughing again, knife still in his eye socket - up until jason reaches out with his free hand to yank it out. doesn't mind the blood and gore as the guy screeches, fingers grasping at the remnants of his eye, and instead pulls him down further so jason can shove a knee right into his sternum.

drops him to the ground after, letting the shadow suck the guy straight through it. it drops him off on the sidewalk, at a distance far enough away from jason that no one's going to be looking his way just yet as the guy screams.

which is good. because jason's not going anywhere. instead, he's wiping his knife off on his pants, and tilting his head back to look for mister bitchy. )

B.

( closed ) twisted steel beneath my knees

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