metalogs | ( closed ) twisted steel beneath my knees

( his cape swishes as he twists — arm up to block the flurry of knives thrown at him. one lodges itself between the armor and he grunts right as jason throws himself at him. falling back, he hits the ground. hard. taking jason with him. a strangled noise leaving him as he does. the flashlight rolls away and offers them only a sliver of light. )

Don't make me hurt you.

( is huffed through gritted teeth, bruce bringing a hand up to jason's neck in an attempt to push him back. push him away. push him off. )

( good. he should be down on the ground, nothing more than a bright spot on jason's infrared as he drops down hard on top of bruce. a hand comes up for his neck, but he doesn't give two shits about it.

he presses a hand down against bruce's chest, kris sitting against his palm pointed off to the side, just below his collarbone. holds it there, while the other raises into a fist aimed straight for bruce's nose. one he doesn't throw, not yet. )

Do it. Hurt me, if that's how you wanna play it. Wouldn't be the first time someone in a cowl fucked me over.

Edited 2024-01-24 23:15 (UTC)

( he's seconds away from tasering jason, hand there on his neck. but when the sudden sound of skittering fills the cave, bruce immediately turns his head in the direction of the sound. )

We've got company.

( and from the crevices of the cave crawl a number of black, twisted, spider-like creatures. eyes dark and beady, fixated on the two of them, with fangs dripping something white and slick, droplets leaving burn marks on the ground. ouch, basically.

without waiting to pounce, backs are arched and webs are shot. right at bruce and jason there on the ground. )

( bruce is seconds away from doing something, and jason's just waiting for it. waiting for bruce to prove he's just as much of an asshat as his bruce, waiting for the excuse to be pissed at himself for jumping into this with him when he could have just stayed and waited for bruce to figure it out for himself.

spiders interrupt that plan. jason still has his fist raised, balled up tight like he's just waiting for an excuse to hit. curses under his breath instead, and reaches down into his belt. )

I hate you sometimes, you know that?

( it's growled low, but without moving off of bruce jason's throwing a handful of flashbangs out towards the spiders. his lenses adjust to the lightning change quickly, which he's using to his advantage as he pulls out a lighter and a very small spray bottle of lighter fluid. gets back up onto his feet so he's not hovering over bruce anymore when he flicks the lighter on with full intention of burning the hell out of whatever wasn't frightened away by the noise and light. )

( when movement from jason happens, bruce rolls away, getting to his feet just as jason blasts the hoard of spiders with the lighter and fluid. the sounds they make are almost ear piercing and bruce covers an ear with one hand, the other gripping tight to the baton.

for all intents and purposes, it seems jason's taken care of the ones that had been more head on. turns out there's more. coming from a couple more sides and bruce swings the baton near jason when he catches one trying to drop down onto him. the skittering seems to slowly fill the cave, and bruce ducks and swings at various ones that jump at them. knocking them back with the baton. )

We need to get out of here!

( a smarter man would have pulled in someone with superpowers to be ready in case shit went down like this. jason also realizes - he did, he has them here, and someone overpowered would only be able to handle as much shit as they could see. eventually, diana would run out of stamina. kyle would need a break. jason and bruce are perfectly capable of handling damn near anything this place throws at them. including thousands of tiny skittering creatures out to - melt them? eat them? fuck if he knows.

bruce goes in with his baton, and jason takes it as his cue to duck back and grab onto the backpack he'd dropped. swings it over a shoulder, and then grabs hold of a gun to start shooting at the ones that get too close. figures this isn't the time for rubber bullets, he doubts the bullets'll take out that many of them, either, and he's only got so much ammo on him. ammo he'd rather waste here than sacrifice a few knives. ducks down again in between shots to grab onto his kris again, because he's not leaving that behind, thanks. )

Scram! ( hands reaching out to nab bruce by his stupid cape between shots to shove him out towards the cave opening, because - ) I can keep 'em from following but I need you out.

( the tug on his cape has him nearly swing at jason. a kneejerk reaction to an action done to him, but he catches himself. refrains. eyes the other and the weapons he's wielding. he hesitates for only a fraction of a second before he's running for the cave opening, ducking down to swipe his flashlight up off the ground as he does.

going back out isn't something he wanted — he hasn't even explored the entirety of... wherever it is they are. but they can't stay in there. not when they're not even entirely sure just what they're dealing with. but there's another spot. it's just a bit further. if he can keep track of how many steps he's taking once they're out. )

( they're low on time and options, but jason - well, he's resourceful. bruce listens and rushes out, which is what he'd been waiting for. he follows after, palm dragging along the wall of one side of the cave and then the other, leaving behind small circular objects in his wake. as soon as they're clear of the entrance, he holds up a small pen-shaped item, thumb pressing on the red trigger on top of it. )

Thank Dickie.

( the trigger goes down, and the cave? well, a few of the spiders might get out of it, but not many - a significant amount of rubble blocks the entrance. )

( an arm goes up, cape draped over it, a shield of sorts against the dust that comes from the rubble falling. the sounds they make are nearly piercing as they few who manage to make it out scurry away, but the sounds that boom around them from... whatever might make such a sound... are a little more foreboding.

bruce grips tight to the baton he holds, cape still up, when suddenly, from the shadows— )

And here I was getting worried you wouldn't come.

( with those chilling words, an eerie laugh echoes throughout the shadows. one that, regardless of whatever gotham one finds themselves from, is incredibly difficult to miss.

slowly, he draws his arm down, eyes sharp in the way they scan the shadows they stand within and with a slow pivot towards the darkness behind him, that's when he sees him. when he sees the joker. it's not him. he can't be here. it's something parading around as him, much as that thing had done with his own face and nearly taken a bite out of jason. it's not really him. even though the joker — some version of him — had been here. he can't... be in this place with them. it's a trick.

these are the things that quickly cycle through his thoughts as he stares to "the joker" standing there a little ways from them. scarred. dressed in arkham asylum orange and white. cuffs around his wrists. he doesn't seem to move, aside from the gentle swaying he makes. but his eyes are on them and he opens his mouth then, a soft gasp of surprise. )

You made a friend... or maybe a son. ( the way his mouth slowly twists into a cheshire cat grin. ) A son that's got ambition. Maybe a little too much. Always walking in daddy's shadow. Even here.

( that's when "the joker" finally looks to jason — finally acknowledges him and bites his cracked bottom lip before he laughs that laugh of his again. quiet and stifled almost. as if it's a secret that shouldn't be said out loud. when "the joker's" focus shifts back to bruce, he smiles. )

But you'll always be my favorite masked avenger. Everyone else just... doesn't measure up.

( a slow glance to jason and an even slower smile to him — for him. just for him. )

( he knows that laugh.

knows it too well. has heard it echo through the walls of arkham during his brief stay, remembers hearing it as the crowbar slammed into him over and over again. remembers it while he and tim were getting fucked over together. remembers it too from the recording of tim getting tortured while their bruce, who had been here did fuck all to prevent it from happening again.

knows his face, too. his voice. the shit smile that spreads across his lips that makes jason want to vomit, especially with the words that are coming out of his mouth. always walking in daddy's shadow - the fuck he is. jason was here first, had gone in after bruce because someone had to, he's not robin anymore, he doesn't follow bruce's shit rules except for when he does like - now. now he is. not for bruce, never for bruce, but -

he could open his mouth, throw words straight into joker's face. knows they've made too much noise, they're attracting outsiders, he doubts this is anything more than just another mirage meant to fuck with them.

does none of that and instead raises his gun, lips pressed into a tight line, and fires off every goddamn bullet in its magazine in quick succession: four going straight for his head, the remaining three straight for his heart. keeps pressing on the trigger even after he knows it's emptied. )

( maybe he should have seen it coming. should have known jason would do what he does, but. when the gun is raised, bruce reacts a second too late. )

Don’t —!

( the rounds are fired before bruce can even take a step towards jason and he watches as “the joker” takes the four bullets he’s given, laughing as he does. the sound he makes when his body hits the shadowy ground is a loud thud and he lays there with a permanent smile — a shit eating grin — on his face.

bruce stands there. speechless. he feels he should react. that he should tell jason how he let his words get to him. how he’d been goaded into shooting him down like he had and how it doesn’t magically make the words disappear. that it doesn’t erase the years of trauma he’s been through because of him. because of the joker. that this was what he wanted and jason gave him it without a second thought.

he turns to say something when he catches sight of “the joker” there behind jason. still wearing that same grin on his bloodied lips. )

Jason!

( behind him, “the joker” laughs, crowbar raised high, almost shining in the dark. )

Swing batter batter batter!

( and he swings the crowbar for jason. )

( he doesn't regret it. not one bit. joker's body hits the floor and all jason can think is thank fuck. doesn't believe for a moment he's dead despite all the bullets jason's put into him, but he is down. bruce is yelling at him, telling him to not do it, but he doesn't give two shits. joker fucked over tim, joker fucked over babs, duke, jason, and so many others. putting him down is the least he can do.

except in the space of time jason takes to walk a few steps forward to look at the body, yet another joker pops up behind him. eyes widen, and he - he sees it before it's too late, has time to dodge, but there's that goddamn crowbar and jason's flinching instead. it's only a moment, hardly time at all, but it's long enough for joker to get his hit in. metal slams against the side of jason's skull and all he hears is a high-pitched whine as he goes down, hard. )

( there's a sliver of hope as he dashes for him, fleeting as it is, that jason might be able to deflect. that he might be able to react as he'd been trying to with their exposure therapy they'd done together, but.

he doesn't make it in time.

jason takes the crowbar to the side of his head — hears the way it cracks within the darkness — and drops to the ground with an equally hard thud. there's a sound that's caught between a growl and a sharp cry of pain as bruce throws himself into "the shadow joker" and slams the baton he wields into his stomach, knocking him off and away, laughter spilling from his cracked lips as he does.

dropping down next to jason, bruce is reaching out for him — touching his shoulder, eyes wide with fear and concern and he just barely gets jason's name out of him when he's smacked over the head with that same crowbar. the darkness buzzes around him as he drops down onto his side, the cowl providing a layer of protection but not enough to prove completely resistant.

bruce staggers — sound strangled there on his lips as he blinks through the darkness. the ringing in his head is enough to make him pass out and he almost wants to. but he catches the sight of "the shadow joker" there grinning like a mad clown to him over jason's body there on the ground, swinging that crowbar back and forth, as if he intends to start wailing on him with it and bruce struggles to reach out for his fallen baton.

two seconds pass before his eyes fall back onto jason and he's grunting as he reaches inside his utility belt — pulls out a shot of something unmistakably green and jams it into an opening hidden within his suit on his leg. eyes nearly roll back into his head as the serum pumps through his veins almost instantly and then he's up. angry. running right into "the shadow joker" and taking the brunt of the hit from the crowbar to his arm before he's kicking him down. before he's suddenly on him. beating him. over and over and over again. )

( he's out.

knocked out cold before he even has a chance to retaliate. there's blood pooling under him on the ground from where the crowbar managed to break through skin - this is why he has a goddamn hood. a hood meant to keep his brains from getting bashed out of his skull. what a stupid, stupid move, getting rid of it. jason doesn't know how long it's been since the moment he hit the ground and the moment he manages to open his eyes; it could be minutes or hours, but the ringing in his head hasn't subsided at all. blood drips from the side of his head onto his temple, over the domino mask as he gets his palms down against the ground under him. watches blood drip down into the puddle he's already got beneath him. or tries to watch anyway, but it's hard to concentrate when everything's spinning around him.

he hears the impact of fists against flesh. thinks for a moment it must be him getting his ass beat before realizing that - no, he's managing to sit up just fine, nothing's on him, he can't feel it. his head aches, and trying to get himself up is proving futile when he can't tell which way is up and which way is down. there's blood in his mouth, he can taste it, and when he parts his lips to try and find words it's dripping down to form its own puddle under his head.

fuck.

it's not his first concussion, won't be his last. he needs to get up. )

( bruce completely forgets that he's in any sort of pain. with the altered adrenaline shot running through his veins, he's riding a high that he finds difficult to come down from. especially when he's pummeling the shadow joker into the ground like he is. as if beating him into the very shadows themselves will suffocate that insidious laughter the clown throws at him with every punch he takes.

he reaches for the crowbar — intends to swing it down and crack the shadow joker's face with it, when he sees jason move then out of the corner of his eye in doing so, and while the high still courses through him, it's enough to pull him away from the scarred clown there beneath him.

around them, there's sounds. bellows coming from directions that are almost difficult to pinpoint. he stalks his way to jason, scoops up the bag he'd brought with him, as well as the emptied gun, and he grabs jason's arm as he kneels down. intending to throw him over his shoulder. )

Stay with me.

( the words are considerably more low than bruce usually uses. his heart pounding, pupils blown. resisting the anger that he can feel screaming at him from the inside. he wants to go back and keep punching the shadow joker. but he needs to get jason out of here. or at least, away from this spot in particular. )

( he needs to get up.

but the world is spinning around him, he can still hear joker's laugh. blood is dripping off his face and down onto the floor, and jason's struggling to find his balance with the ringing in his ear. he needs to get up, because they're not in a place where he can afford to lay around like this.

something touches him, and his arm swings back to hit it but the sudden movement only makes his stomach drop. he dry heaves, lurching forward before he's getting thrown over bruce's shoulder and -

doesn't that bring back memories. because jason's not light, he's not easy to lug around. dick can do it short term, tim can drag him, but he's two hundred and thirty pounds of solid muscle, and outside of their more superhuman partners, there's not many who can just throw him over a shoulder and carry him off. )

--onna need stitches.

( but he's not going anywhere. probably. )

Let's hope you brought some then.

( because jason isn't the only one who's going to need some patching up. the shot he'd taken will only last so long before it wears off and he starts to feel the pain of everything. it's why he's been working on the shots he'd brought with him. to make them last longer. make them stronger.

it's with one last look over to where he'd left the shadow joker that he finds him gone — to no surprise — and takes off from the scene as quickly as he can with someone as big as jason thrown over his back. the clown might be gone for the moment, but it doesn't mean they're out of the woods. especially with the sounds echoing around them within the darkness.

he knows a spot. he just needs to get them there.

when jason wakes, he'll find himself laid out on the floor of what appears to be another cave. his head's carefully propped up against the backpack he'd brought with him — bruce's cape draped over him as a means to be a blanket to keep him covered. keep him warm. bandages wrapped around his head, bruce having done the best that he could with the injury jason had sustained from the shadow joker. it's easier to do it on someone else than on himself and with jason having been out of it at the time, he'd been able to get through it a lot quicker, flashlight held between his teeth as he did.

jason's mask is removed — set aside beside him, bruce having removed his cowl. tending to his own wound there on his head had been more difficult, given the fact that he lacks a mirror, proper lighting, and only has whatever's on hand in jason's backpack. a struggle that he finds some relief with with the help of the adrenaline shots he has. it's not perfect, but it'll do.

bruce is close by, hunched over some by the wall of the cave. keeping watch. trying to stay awake. glancing over to jason every now and then when he's not marking things down on the ground of the cave. keeping track. keeping count. )

( his backpack is well-equipped. jason packed it with the apocalypse in mind: there's nres, a couple water bottles, a small pot, flint rocks, an extremely well-packed first aid kit, a spare outfit, hunting knives, throwing knives, wire, a few extra clips, an electromagnetic flashlight, dust mask, burner phone, garbage bags, matches - you know, as much as he could feasibly shove into a bag just in case. luckily for both of them, jason has known this bruce long enough to know that while passing out is never ideal, falling back under while being carried off by some asshole in a cowl generally isn't going to end terribly for him. he feels the weight settle back over his head, the tinny ringing in his left ear still loud enough he's almost worried about it, but - lets his eyes close, doesn't fight it off.

wakes up who the hell knows how long later with the ringing still in his hear but ignores it as he bolts himself upright. immediately regrets it, when how off balance he feels is enough to make him nauseous. his forearm presses down against the floor under him, eyes opening just long enough to confirm it's bruce close by and not something. . . worse, before they're closing once more.

much better.

even if everything else coming back is making him feel like shit. how pathetic; he'd come after bruce to try and get them both out. he should have been better than this. knows damn well he's better trained than this bruce is at this point, and yet - one hit, and he was down. all it took was one swing at him by--couldn't have been joker, there wouldn't have been two of them if it had been real. taken out by a nightmare of his own making, which is even worse. shit. he deserves bruce's bitching about him being stupid to follow him down if this is how jason contributes. deserves the hit, too, if that's all it takes to put him down. the ringing's going to drive him nuts, but at least jason's conscious enough to recognize it for what it most likely is, and - opens his mouth. )

's my ear bleeding? Or just my head?

( no need to answer that, he's raising his own hand to feel along the outside of his ear. his fingers come away wet which - not ideal, could be worse. still hurts like a bitch, but. wiping his fingers off on his thigh, he reaches up for the zipper on the bag. misses until he drags his hand along the side of the bag until fingers catch on it and--yank it down. )

Edited 2024-01-30 19:40 (UTC)

( he'd done the best that he could while nursing his own head injury. thankfully, jason had been well-equipped for this little adventure of his in this shadow realm of sorts, and bruce had had the things he needed to, more or less, tend to his fallen son. it had been a little touch and go in the sense of bruce knowing the possibility of jason needing extensive medical treatment, but. from the sudden upright jolt, seems like the stitches might be enough after all.

bruce is seconds away from passing out — he's been keeping watch the entire time jason's been out and, ordinarily, he can manage fine on little sleep, but. he's been put through the ringer a bit and he can feel his body burning out on him. it's why he fingers one of the adrenaline shots there at his side. resisting the urge to shove it into the hidden opening there in his suit on his leg. he needs to save them. in case anything like that happens again. but he's tired and they give him the energy and strength that he needs.

it's because of jason's abrupt waking that he's able to take his mind off the shot and look over to the other there in the darkness, save for the light that he leaves going between them. )

You should drink something. ( he nods towards the water bottles nearby, bruce having taken one for himself and rationing it the best he can. ) You've been out for a few hours.

'm good.

( from what he's seen of the rest of this place, jason doesn't know what the hell their water supply is going to be after what he brought runs out. the zipper goes down, and he's reaching inside for the first aid kit. pulls out a bottle of tylenol and palms a few tablets after struggling to get the lid off - and presses his hand to his mouth to swallow them down dry. they might have to ration those, too, later. but that's a later problem.

a now problem is squinting across the distance between himself and bruce. notes the cowl not being on, how worn down bruce looks. jason's been out a few hours, apparently, but bruce has been up since who the fuck knows when.

jason still feels off balance, but he's got four limbs and a wall close by he can half-crawl towards and lean his back up against. )

Mild concussion. Might've ruptured an eardrum, might've not. ( just, you know, taking inventory. but he's waving it off a moment after. ) I'll take point, you get a nap in.

I'm fine.

( he's not, but. that's how this family is. always pretending they are. always pushing themselves until they physically can't anymore.

slowly, a leg stretches out in front of him and he's careful in the way he slips the shot back into its holster, bruce letting his head lean back against the wall of the cave he's been at now for those few hours jason's been out. his hair's a bit of a mess, the dark circles under his eyes even darker than they usually are with the greasepaint a smeared mess across his face, and still he keeps his eyes open. if even just barely. staring across into the darkness. quiet. )

It's nearly been twelve hours. ( he murmurs. ) I've been keeping track.

Shit.

( so not just a short nap, but a long nap. long enough to be concerned about potential brain damage, especially given the hit jason took. twelve hours after his arrival would be roughly eleven and a half after jason's, and their squabble didn't last that long. twelve hours since he last slept wouldn't cause the dark circles under his eyes. probably. he is still just a baby bat after all.

his hand raises again, feeling along the side of his skull. winces when it hurts, but it doesn't feel too swollen. doesn't feel like anything too concerning. jason's cracked open his head a few times, he knows how hard someone has to swing something into it to break it. hopefully it's - fine. they don't have much here, and jason doesn't have room to worry about it. his balance is off, but he's not particularly fuzzy around the edges. it's something he'll need to keep an eye out for, but. . not now, that's a later problem. )

I'm not gonna be able to go anywhere anytime soon. Sleep for a bit. I've got -- ( right, an internal clock. the implant on his goddamn brain, which doesn't match up with the timetable bruce is going off of. not quite. lips twist into a scowl. )

've got a neural implant. Long story. ( eyes closing again. bruce's are open, jason can save his from having to deal with the light a bit longer. ) But 's got a clock. Timer's off.

How long was I gone before you followed me in here?

( because he feels that might be something important to know. what with his keeping track of time ticking by and all. )

Thirty minutes or so. Had Rayner run me a bag.

( and let the crew know what was going on and where he was going before he fucked off after him. waited, to see if bruce would come out on his own. if anyone had seen him and he was just avoiding jason. he figured - the longer he waited, the worse it might turn out. jumping in after him was the only option he was left with. )

( the sound that leaves bruce is a huff of disbelief. )

It'd been almost three hours when you finally showed up.

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