JASON TODD [ red hood ] (
goodsoldier) wrote in
multiversallogs2012-09-14 04:49 pm
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Entry tags:
surprise Batman is really the only kind of Batman
Who: Bruce and Jason
What: an evening investigation into a militia dust up
Where: Tar Wedge, Raven's Gate, around
When: after Kalinda and Tom have an adventure
Notes: [16:03] claire: also i picked tar wedge because there is no description anywhere of tar wedge
Warnings: probably nothing!
So much of his stuff has been scattered to the four winds of Baedal bartering that Jason hasn't made any effort to get another version of the helmet he'd been using months ago. In any case, he's only looking. Head protection should be unnecessary. Tar Wedge is not a particularly dangerous neighborhood, and he's just a guy in a cheap coat, glasses, and a baseball hat. The last item he picked up from the bazaar because he didn't recognize the logo some kind of stylized snarling cat, but not any team he knows from home.
There are some rumors going around, some of which he picks up in Tar Wedge itself, and some of which have filtered in through other sources. In a lot of ways, though, he still feels three months behind. Those three months are a tangle of activities. On one side, there are the things he was there for and remembers well, such as the anonymous broadcast, and here and now, there's this, for which he feels underprepared. Not that that bothers him, exactly, but it hardly needs to be said that Baedal isn't Gotham. It's far less forgiving.
He moves on to Raven's Gate, where blending in is more difficult than it is in areas like Griss Twist or Aspic, so he doesn't try too hard. The patches of lower populated housing could be a decent place to stash some things, he notes. Hopefully once he has more winnings from fights, he'll have some actual things to stash. If the hypothetically involved Vigilante(s) from the Tar Wedge incident thought the same way, he might pick up a trace here, given the close vicinity.
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And yet - maybe he's impatient, too.
"You were gone for a while."
Oh.
There's noise at the end of the street; Bruce stands up and moves back onto the rooftop in a smooth motion, out of view. This guy can follow him up there to see if he's still around or he can go on his way. It's an ominous note to end on but - maybe it's something worth investigating, too.
He'll wait for a minute and see.
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Jason is up on the roof in a second, noiseless to those not in their curious profession, then similarly out of view. Another second passes, then he's over to the other side, quick but not pursuing, because that could be taken the wrong way, given their tense opening etiquette. There are fractional pauses in his movements, no longer indicative of caution but of polite discretion, observant silence in which he's listening to determine if the man's still in the vicinity that Jason will wait or follow his lead if he is and still open to talk. If he's not, well, then Jason's just up on a roof for no reason. He's certainly done more embarrassing things.
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Bruce is waiting, yes, and once again he's in an almost leisurely position - this time at the far side of the rooftop, leaning back against the concrete edge. (It's probably apparent to Jason by now that he's been placing himself in the position that intersects with the best visibility and most effective escape route.)
When he's sure the younger man is close enough to see him, he tilts his head.
Hi.
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It's quiet behind and below, so Jason waits a beat, then shrugs as a continuation of the conversation. Why he would disappear for three months is beyond any explanation he could come up with.
"I didn't think anyone missed me." In any sense of the word, though in this (testy) sense, he's more saying I didn't think anyone noticed me. Beyond the people he contacted himself.
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More straight-forward than Bruce thought he might be, earlier, but hell. He came all the way out here, might as well. (He's feeling - not reckless, lately, but hurried, in a way he doesn't like. Variables are moving too fast, people pulled in, pulled out-)
"Why are you looking for me, and not them?"
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"Everyone I was working with is gone," Jason finally says, and shrugs again. Like Bruce, he's not about to throw anybody under the bus. For someone in Vanessza's position, that'd be a pretty big bus. "I wanted to see if there were others still going. Curiosity satisfied," he says, only mildly sardonic. Because his favorite answer to any question is 'a mysterious masked vigilante'.
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(There's a sort of nagging in the back of his head, about that look of recognition, about the fact that he did work with that girl who was wearing his symbol. He doesn't want this guy to be one of those. He's just so sick of it.)
"There's plenty to be done."
That's not, you know, creeping on him.
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"I'm still getting set up." He makes a small, dismissive hand gesture because if this guy knows he's been gone three months, he'd just about have to know about the fights they're high profile enough and he wasn't wearing a real disguise and it doesn't really need to be said. "But if you felt like passing anything on in a week or two, I'd do my best to return the favor down the road."
The conservative offer should suit their respective levels of wariness, though in all honesty, it might be considerably further down the road before he has something of interest that this guy wouldn't know about to share. It doesn't ask for trust or even cooperation, really. It's just a possible starting point.
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It's unnerving.
But-
"Sure."
If he's going to do it anyway, and they're low on aggressors, he might as well.
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He acknowledges that and dismisses it, as ever. 'Sure' is one of the most non-committal agreements possible, even if he thinks this guy isn't giving it as a brush off. He just nods.
"Any particular way to contact you? Should I just write it on my window?" Fucking vigilantes, Jason thinks with no irony whatsoever.
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H..ah. Hah? ... Except it doesn't sound like a joke. (It isn't, but he's not actually about to go show up in this guy's bedroom. But just. Putting that out there.) Bruce pushes off the low wall, and stands up properly, apparently having decided this conversation is about done.
"You'll hear from me." A beat, then, less ominous: "Your cohort is being watched closely. The network isn't private to them. Be careful who you speak to."
Not for his safety.
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(The thought occurs to Bruce that his handwriting might be recognizable to someone who knows him, so he writes it all with his left hand.)