[ Not only did Jason get kicked in the face last night, of course not. It isn't about the split nose he has, or the black eye, reminding him to pad his helmets better from now on. No, he also got kicked in the face by Bruce. Bruce . Bruce who he had revealed his identity to a few months back. Bruce who had died, or faked his death like a Bat would. Bruce who had been oh so sorry for what had happened to Jason, just seemed to have forgotten about it and kicked him in the fucking face like he was some lowlife mugger in an alley.
It had ended in Jason disappearing into one of his safe-houses to investigate the comeback of the Bat, but -- not a single entry could be found. In fact he - apparently - never even died.
In fact, Jason, the Arkham Knight, didn't even fucking exist. His crusade. His work. His life. For nothing?
It's because of this that, the next day, Jason finds himself investigating his so-called family even more, finding nothing that'd help understand the situation. He needs answers, answers he's not gonna get from the Bat. He'd never think of approaching his replacement, too sure he'd shoot him right away. Barbara must be with the replacement 24/7 due to being his fiancee, so she was a no-go as well. Who better to approach then his favorite big poser of a brother then?
By now Jason finds himself on top of Dick's apartment, more anxious than he'd ever admit, because well -- he hadn't faced the man ever since the Joker took him all these years back. He swallows the feeling when he hears Dick calling out to the intruder. Huh.
A sudden wave of anger shoots through Jason, both caused by last night's events as well as his "brother's" annoying confidence, and he snaps.
Jason, now calling himself the Red Hood, walks towards the edge of the roof and jumps, holding on to the building as he kicks in the window, landing on one knee in the middle of the room where a certain bird stands, threatening him.
Jason looks up at him and rises slowly, fingers aching to grab his guns, but he's more curious about the other man's reaction to him in the first place. Besides, he doesn't feel threatened by a messily clothed, barely prepped circus freak. ]
Re: ( for ak!jay )
No, he also got kicked in the face by Bruce. Bruce . Bruce who he had revealed his identity to a few months back. Bruce who had died, or faked his death like a Bat would. Bruce who had been oh so sorry for what had happened to Jason, just seemed to have forgotten about it and kicked him in the fucking face like he was some lowlife mugger in an alley.
It had ended in Jason disappearing into one of his safe-houses to investigate the comeback of the Bat, but -- not a single entry could be found. In fact he - apparently - never even died.
In fact, Jason, the Arkham Knight, didn't even fucking exist. His crusade. His work. His life. For nothing?
It's because of this that, the next day, Jason finds himself investigating his so-called family even more, finding nothing that'd help understand the situation. He needs answers, answers he's not gonna get from the Bat. He'd never think of approaching his replacement, too sure he'd shoot him right away. Barbara must be with the replacement 24/7 due to being his fiancee, so she was a no-go as well. Who better to approach then his favorite big poser of a brother then?
By now Jason finds himself on top of Dick's apartment, more anxious than he'd ever admit, because well -- he hadn't faced the man ever since the Joker took him all these years back. He swallows the feeling when he hears Dick calling out to the intruder. Huh.
A sudden wave of anger shoots through Jason, both caused by last night's events as well as his "brother's" annoying confidence, and he snaps.
Jason, now calling himself the Red Hood, walks towards the edge of the roof and jumps, holding on to the building as he kicks in the window, landing on one knee in the middle of the room where a certain bird stands, threatening him.
Jason looks up at him and rises slowly, fingers aching to grab his guns, but he's more curious about the other man's reaction to him in the first place. Besides, he doesn't feel threatened by a messily clothed, barely prepped circus freak. ]
Am I late for your yoga class, Mr. Grayson?