A Many Splendoured Thing. Jason Todd.
Title: A Many Splendoured Thing. (Part 5 of 10).
Subtitle: Sharp Edges
Author: scarab_dynasty
Pairings: None (Bruce/Talia?)
Rating: PG
Summary: Change is a many splendoured thing to the casual observer. It also has a tendency to suck, big time, for those experiencing it. Jason is trying to change things himself. Which sucks even more, if you want my opinion…
Last Part (Barbara Gordon Centric): http://community.livejournal.com/batfic/261826.html#cutid1
Next Part (Donna Troy Centric): http://community.livejournal.com/batfic/265607.html
When Jason has been Robin, things had been different.
He’s never been jealous of the new Robin. They think otherwise. Maybe he wants them to believe it. But he isn’t.
And now Robin’s dead. Again. Permanently this time.
Something about a dead clone and laboratory and… well, basically, it sounds to Jason, from what little info he can gleam, like little Timmy just went off his nut. Jason can’t say he blames him. Being Robin can do that to a guy. He’s living proof of that.
Living proof.
Jason’s good at putting the bad guys away, permanently. He’s good at getting the cuts just right. He’s good at making the angles sweep dangerously close to the. But that’s neater than he prefers to work these days. It’s like junk mail and they’re the junk (or they’re on the junk, either way). Nobody reads the letters sent in tiny, neat envelopes with polite little phone numbers. They read the huge ones, covered in bright red letters and overblown promises.
Those kinds of letters are usually unreliable, though. Or end up costing more than they’re worth.
Jason wonders…
He wonders how many more people have been beaten to death in the streets, since the crisis. Since a new generation of fear and panic turned the streets of Gotham and Central City and hell, even Metropolis into a panicked mess. Accidents had happened. So had purposeful stuff.
Like the bastard who bashed his brains in, twisted him, broke him, made him forget who he was.
But that was alright, because looking back, now, Jason’s not that sure he even liked that kid. That kid didn’t know what he was doing, waiting for months, fighting for years to wear some pervy costume with too-bright colours. But then again, that doesn’t mean he didn’t wear it well. that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have made Robin into something else.
There’s no Robin, now. No Red Hood. Dick’s retired and Nightwing’s name is being handled by some woman…
Lots of blood on the streets in the last five years, and he’s not just talking about the crisis and New York City and the first time he saw the chick in action.
Then he hears about the new kid.
The new kid. Who happens to be Bruce’s. Yeah. Genetically.
Bruce and Talia Al Ghul’s fucking warped little kid. Twelve years old. Robin number five-point-oh as of last September, back when he’d just left New York.
He’s got Talia’s genes. He’s got Bruce’s. That’s just asking for a whole load of mental crap, right there.
Robin number three-point-oh must be freaking out of his insane little mind. Robin one-point-oh… probably doesn’t care anymore. Robin-four-point-oh is too busy rotting to care. Robin two-point-oh…
Fuck.
The little red-dressed birds just keep on coming, don’t they? Robin’s don’t die, they freaking well multiply.
Little progress, if any. Jason wonders, as he takes out another serial mugger on the streets of Brooklyn, if anything has really changed since the events before the crisis.
The taser is already flying, though, and it’s a little late for looking back.
He’s going to keep looking forwards to the next target all the time, now. Gotham will change, if has to rip her down and start it all over.
But maybe…
Maybe not this way. Maybe not with blood and sharp edges. Maybe with bullets and crowbars. Maybe…
Jason’s not sure. He hasn’t made his mind up, yet.
Subtitle: Sharp Edges
Author: scarab_dynasty
Pairings: None (Bruce/Talia?)
Rating: PG
Summary: Change is a many splendoured thing to the casual observer. It also has a tendency to suck, big time, for those experiencing it. Jason is trying to change things himself. Which sucks even more, if you want my opinion…
Last Part (Barbara Gordon Centric): http://community.livejournal.com/batfic/261826.html#cutid1
Next Part (Donna Troy Centric): http://community.livejournal.com/batfic/265607.html
When Jason has been Robin, things had been different.
He’s never been jealous of the new Robin. They think otherwise. Maybe he wants them to believe it. But he isn’t.
And now Robin’s dead. Again. Permanently this time.
Something about a dead clone and laboratory and… well, basically, it sounds to Jason, from what little info he can gleam, like little Timmy just went off his nut. Jason can’t say he blames him. Being Robin can do that to a guy. He’s living proof of that.
Living proof.
Jason’s good at putting the bad guys away, permanently. He’s good at getting the cuts just right. He’s good at making the angles sweep dangerously close to the. But that’s neater than he prefers to work these days. It’s like junk mail and they’re the junk (or they’re on the junk, either way). Nobody reads the letters sent in tiny, neat envelopes with polite little phone numbers. They read the huge ones, covered in bright red letters and overblown promises.
Those kinds of letters are usually unreliable, though. Or end up costing more than they’re worth.
Jason wonders…
He wonders how many more people have been beaten to death in the streets, since the crisis. Since a new generation of fear and panic turned the streets of Gotham and Central City and hell, even Metropolis into a panicked mess. Accidents had happened. So had purposeful stuff.
Like the bastard who bashed his brains in, twisted him, broke him, made him forget who he was.
But that was alright, because looking back, now, Jason’s not that sure he even liked that kid. That kid didn’t know what he was doing, waiting for months, fighting for years to wear some pervy costume with too-bright colours. But then again, that doesn’t mean he didn’t wear it well. that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have made Robin into something else.
There’s no Robin, now. No Red Hood. Dick’s retired and Nightwing’s name is being handled by some woman…
Lots of blood on the streets in the last five years, and he’s not just talking about the crisis and New York City and the first time he saw the chick in action.
Then he hears about the new kid.
The new kid. Who happens to be Bruce’s. Yeah. Genetically.
Bruce and Talia Al Ghul’s fucking warped little kid. Twelve years old. Robin number five-point-oh as of last September, back when he’d just left New York.
He’s got Talia’s genes. He’s got Bruce’s. That’s just asking for a whole load of mental crap, right there.
Robin number three-point-oh must be freaking out of his insane little mind. Robin one-point-oh… probably doesn’t care anymore. Robin-four-point-oh is too busy rotting to care. Robin two-point-oh…
Fuck.
The little red-dressed birds just keep on coming, don’t they? Robin’s don’t die, they freaking well multiply.
Little progress, if any. Jason wonders, as he takes out another serial mugger on the streets of Brooklyn, if anything has really changed since the events before the crisis.
The taser is already flying, though, and it’s a little late for looking back.
He’s going to keep looking forwards to the next target all the time, now. Gotham will change, if has to rip her down and start it all over.
But maybe…
Maybe not this way. Maybe not with blood and sharp edges. Maybe with bullets and crowbars. Maybe…
Jason’s not sure. He hasn’t made his mind up, yet.