multiversallogs | is this your house, do you live here? you're not as sick as you appear.

Who: Rex and Jason
What: a bit of stalkery, a bit of investigation
Where: outside Rex's lab, perhaps other places
When: morning
Notes: idk nothing
Warnings: discussion of snakes probs.

It is a brisk, snowy morning, and that may be why the thirty gallon aquarium that has been inexplicably left outside of Rex's lab does not have any animal in it, though it is full of appropriate snake materials — butcher paper for substrate, undertank heaters, places to hide, an empty water dish, and a climbing branch.

Jason leans against the wall beside it, one hand tucked into his jacket pocket, the other hand holding a cigarette, though he doesn't actually smoke it. He looks much the same as he had the first time he accosted Rex, just a little bored.

The only reason he'd been able to track Rex down is bcause Rex deliberately hadn't taken many precautions with his CiD. From then on it was old fashioned stalking. He can't say he doesn't have better things to do, but it hasn't taken much time away from his Militia investigations, and it's about a billion times less depressing. The fact is, he needs help. Lone wolfing this shit is just going to get him disappeared. He's not sure how to make contact with the person or people behind the transmissions, but that's okay; he can gather up his own contacts. Helena is probably in, of course, though there's always Benny to consider, and if necessary, he knows he can make contact with Tim, Batgirl, Oracle, and Superboy. But that's not nearly enough.

So who is Rex, exactly, and what does he do when he's not posting strangely critical snake lectures to the cohort? It's worth looking into.

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Setting the tank down carefully, Jason then leans a hip against that table, glancing casually over the rest of the lab, crossing his arms in a loose and relaxed manner.

"Ordinarily I would say murdering the fuck out of rapists and drug dealers, but recently I've become interested in the systemic aspect of crime in Baedal," he says, thoughtful and mock-scholarly. "For a while I thought it was beyond me. And it was, when I was alone. But now it seems like there're friends everywhere, friends waiting to be discovered, essentially. Does that sound pollyanna of me?"

There's a genuine, albeit unpleasant, smile. Not that Rex cares much either way about drug dealers, but he reserves a particular loathing for rapists that makes anybody who murders them a-okay in his book. After all, it was the leaked photos of the militiaman "posing" with his female victims that prompted Rex to make his entry in the first place. When they were just beating people, he could remain largely indifferent (after all, it wasn't happening to him).

"A little, but that sort of optimism can be... you know, infectious," Rex says, oh, so casually. Jason has his interest now, quite firmly. Despite two years of "intensive case management" in a particularly special prison, granting him some small measure of empathy, Rex is still a terrorist at heart. As far as he's concerned, weakening this system, destroying it, replacing it with something better is a cause he can put himself toward.

And it certainly beats playing the nice nurse. He's been rapidly growing bored of that cover.

"Provided you're making the right kinds of friends, of course. Going against a system, you'll need a lot of firepower on your side. For example."

"Precisely the kind of thing I'd like to consult with you about, as well as an alternate system of communication. Because I'm pretty fucking sure the CiDs are not secure in any sense."

Jason shrugs. "I'm no expert, though I've got someone for that too." In fact he hasn't approached Babs yet and there's no guarantee she'll even talk to him, but he thinks she will. "I could put you in touch, if you like. But I'm still gathering friends, things are still being worked out. How does that strike you?"

Alternate system of communication? That's certainly relevant to his interests-- not only for selfish reasons, but because he'd also agreed to help Martha Jones devise a sort of "ghost" CiD that couldn't be traced. So far, that hadn't panned out at all. Proficient though he is with computer systems, the CiD's something else entirely, and he knows better than to tamper around with a monitored device when he's not entirely familiar with it.

"I'm interested. In meeting your friend and--" He motions to the projects. "--supplying your endeavor. And I have a few friends, myself, who may want to touch base with you." Ana, at the very least, would probably be interested. He's sure she's dying for a little fun.

Jason inclines his head appreciatively, the slight smile fleeting but genuine. The possibility that this is an elaborate Militia sting is, he estimates, low enough to take the risk; he's heard they have some pretty stringent standards as to who can join, and while that doesn't rule out them using Rex to flush dissidents into the open, Rex seems too relaxed, and his fishing post on the cohort too cautious.

"Then I'll be in touch with the CiD number —" After he talks to Barbara, though the idea of simply connecting the two without her knowing who the fuck is arranging it is kind of funny. "— and, maybe, arrange a limited gathering. For now, though, if you don't mind me asking, what kinds of things are you thinking of bringing to the table?"

"The means to leave an impression on your criminals," Rex says casually, as if he's not talking about weapons designed to smash apart obstacles and any people who happened to find themselves on the wrong side of the gun barrel. He opens his bag and pulls out a sketchbook, flipping through the pages until he comes to the middle.

"As for what I can do..." He passes the book over to Jason. With his projects and blueprints locked downstairs, he figures the sketchbook is still... well, not innocent, but it lends him some plausible deniability should this suddenly take a turn or the pictures somehow get out. They're just harmless drawings, after all, not not schematics to actually create anything.

The weapons-- rifles and pistols that don't appear to use bullets-- and accessories, like specialized scopes, may indicate that Rex has experience outfitting soldiers... or terrorists.

"Those are some of the things I can make, given the right resources. This city's technology may be limited, but there's always a workaround to be found if there's enough demand."

Except with the nanomites. Rex is still racking his brain to try to figure out how to work with machines that delicate in a place as backwards as this.

is this your house, do you live here? you're not as sick as you appear.

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