#// for reference he wore a mask as a hero and now as a vigilante

[mhachilles]

bonhwa was tired and grumpy. the second descriptor didn’t seem that necessary because he was always grumpy really but the tiredness was making it worse. he’d finished work and was heading home as the sun started to set, planning on picking up some take out before he got back to his apartment and passed out on the couch. well, he would have already gotten the take out if it wasn’t for the incident currently taking over the street. the ex-hero rolling his eyes as he watched a pair of flustered sidekicks struggle to take down a group of heroes. it wasn’t exactly dangerous, most people were just sitting around and watching until a pro would turn up and clean away the mess and get everything back to normal.

he didn’t miss having to deal with such meaningless missions. he was still watching the whole affair though which was what led to him being distracted long enough for some snotty-nosed kid to make a grab for his wallet. they didn’t get far before he was grabbing their arm and yanking them back. “hey! if you feel like robbing someone why don’t you try the old grandpa over there and not me, idiot.” golden eyes rolling as he continued to curse before very simply taking back his wallet pulling out a couple of notes and throwing at them at the now thoroughly reprimanded kid. who seemingly didn’t want to stick around long enough to question why they were still getting cash before scampering off. bonhwa huffing as he still felt eyes on him from some bystander. “you don’t seem like a hungry pick pocketer so don’t go expecting a handout like that for yourself.”

[lunarianillusion]

A change in fate

authors note: Sorry this chapter took a while, writers block is a pain and school takes a lot of time. Still I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story is now also on archive of our own under the same name. Now on with the story.

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 07

Marinette had been greatly relieved when Mist had returned so quickly and seemingly having succeeded in their mission. The miracle box safely tucked in their tail, a ball of memories between the leopard’s jaws and Wayzz sitting upon their silvery head. A small smile graced her lips at the sight.

But the small moment of joy had been shattered when a. unknown presence made themselves known. How had she not noticed them, she was the true holder of the miraculous of emotions, she could feel everyone’s emotions within a six-mile radius clearly. Even if she could not on a person’s scent, she should have been able to sense his emotions long before they made themselves known. So, how had she not been able to sense them following her guardian. 

In a quick and flowing motion Royal shifted into her battle stance. Her fan at the ready in one hand miracle box in the other, Mist had her claws out and growled from deep in their throat and Wayzz nuzzled into the female’s neck hiding away from the possible danger. All their eyes focussed on the figure that now slipped out of the shadows.

To a certain degree the wielder of the peafowl was relieved that the intruder was neither Chat Noir nor her replacement. That however did not rule out the possibility that this was another akuma, albeit a better dressed one. The male wore upon a quick glance a near skin-tight suit made out of a reinforced material she could not quite place. His main colors consisted of red and black with a golden yellow coloring for his utility belts, that sat on his waist and crossed over his chest. Overall a decent ensemble, definitely better than what some akumas wore. The only things that really did not sit well with her was the length of the cape and that bloody cowl!

The male raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved his head to bear his throat. “I am not here to fight you, Blue Royal,” the stranger stated calmly. “Or should I refer to you by your old identity, Ladybug.”

The blue clad hero went absolutely rigid at this comment as did her companions. How? How did he find out?

Seeming able to read her body language he went on to give her a simple explanation on how he got to this revelation. He told her about how he had been there when the last akuma attacked and had made the connection due to her mannerisms around the so-called heroes and her overall combat experience. For not even someone trained in any form of martial arts, no matter how long they may have trained, would be able to pull of what she did in that little of time without real life experience. And from her reaction he could tell that his theory was correct. Great so she ratted herself out, well done Marinette.

“Who are you?” she more demanded then asked.

“I go by Red Robin and I was formerly known as Robin and protégé of the Batman of Gotham. I have come to Paris to offer you my help in taking Hawkmoth down,” Red Robin told her, while looking straight at the female before him. Though his eyes were covert by the cowl’s white lenses, Mari swore their eyes were locked.

“And how am I to be certain that you are not one of His akumas or accomplices?” The blue clad girl asked skeptically with a cold tone her eyes narrowed into a glare. The tension in the air could almost be touchable as the two continued their stare of.

Red Robin nodded at her reasoning, seeming to understand her suspicions and following cautios manner. “Understandable concerns. Though I doubt I shall be able to put your worries to rest, with just my words. But quite a few people have made my existence public to the world. I hope that when you have seen that you can be assured that I am here to help,” He spoke calmly as he lowered his hands.

“Not very secretive of you to become known to the public, protégé of the Bat,” Royal could not help to comment. It gained a small chuckle from the male before her. “Well the existence of the League is not really a secret either, hence why I were the cowl,” He bantered back. Marinette could not help her lip twitching upward even as she kept her look skeptical. For her nerves were not put to rest.

Since she could not sense his emotions, he must have a strong control over them, she focused her connection to miraculous to look into his soul. It was in correlation with a trick that Duusu had been telling her about during training. How when transformed a true soul can look through the eyes of their kwami and gain the ability to see someone’s soul. It was however a very exhausting technique and she would most likely have a massive headache in the morning, but it was a small price to pay to see if he was a threat.

The only thing giving away her use of this skill was the thin glowing ring of silver surrounding her pupil.

His souls held several shades of blue implying to someone who was loyal and strong of mind. But the colors were dull and several cracks could be seen in the core of his soul and were festering in a malicious black veins. While black could been seen as a color of mystery, which would fit with his secret ID, the way the veins seemed to be invading re-laid to him being hurt greatly. From Blue Marinette could tell though was that the vigilantly infront of her was being sincere to her at the moment. Though it took a second as she got distracted by the sight of his soul.

Still best to play save and do a background check on this ‘protégé of the Batman’ when she got back to her room. “If I were to believe you and you truly are here to help end the reign pf Hawkmoth. How would you be able to help me?” The female asked firmly as she called off the leopard beside her.

“Do not assume me to being rude, but even though you are capable the akuma’s in battle. Far better then your stand in or the mangy cat. I have come to surmise that detective work is not your forte,” Red Robin answered as he took to leaning on the railing. “I was trained in the fields of being a detective, combat and stealth by one of the best that I know of. I believe if we combine both our skills, we will be able to finally to put the plague that Paris is under to rest,” he finished.

He was not wrong she did need help in that department. She could deal with the combat part more easily now than in years past, having learned from experience. Though she had also collected some leads on the possible identity of Hawkbitch, she was unsure on how to follow up on said leads. If he truly was trained by the Bat of Gotham, someone who was considered the number one detective, he would definitely be a useful asset to the mission.

She only had one question left.

“Why now?” The question seemed to startle the vigilante before. The raw emotion in her voice a reflection of her young thirteen-year-old self, sounding so tired and confused. “I sent a message to the league years ago. Why is their only now a response?”

The male’s expression turned soft at her tone of voice and seeming to understand why she would ask this. “I have no excuse to the sheer incompetence of the one who thought your call of distress was nothing more than a prank. The suffering and deaths of the people of Paris is not something to be brushed off as a prank,” he seethed in anger a small flicker of emotion slipping from his control. Telling the blue clad hero of his sincerity.

A beeping sound of the peafowl wielders miraculous rang through the air. Six minutes.

“I get the feeling that our time is limited so I shall get to the point. Will you give us working together a chance?” And that was the question wasn’t it. Could she trust him to help her?

No, she could not, but she needed someone who could dig deep. And if the Bat had trained him his skills in what he mentioned prior would definitely of use to the cause. Still, he was an unknown with strong control of his emotions and even by looking at his soul, she was able to get more information on the male, she did not feel that she had a good read on him. So, this would be a gamble on her part. She needed a second opinion.

Turning her head, she looked at the little turtle god on her shoulder. For while she and Fu had not always had been able to see eye to eye, Wayzz has always been there to come to some sort of compromise. The little kwami always staying level-headed when there was a whirlwind around him and for that she was grateful. So, she knew she could trust him with being her second voice. The kwami and omega duo locked eyes into a silent conversation as Mist kept watch over the anomaly.

The omega’s eyes soon locked back on the vigilante’s masked once, her decision made. Marinette only hoped she would not come to regret this in the future.

“We will meet to compare notes and come to a full partnership arrangement on Wednesday at eleven p.m. at the arc de triomphe. Should there be an akuma attack before that time I want you to focus on evacuating the civilians away from danger. Try not to get spotted by Chat or LB for I belief we both agree they are not to be trusted,” the peafowl wielder informed the male of her decision. She barely made out the smallest amount of tension leaving his shoulders as Red nodded his head in agreement.

“To that we can most certainly agree,” Red Robin voiced. “Then we shall leave further questions to each other for Wednesday.”

The silence that followed his statement gave the vigilante the impression that it was time to leave. However, as he was about to take of the hero Paris called for his attention once more. Turning back to the blue clad female he motioned for her to continue. “Can you make certain no other heroes come to Paris,” her command gained her a curios tilt of the other humans head, question implied but not voiced.

“When I started being a hero, I thought the JL would be able to help, but after some research of the battle tactics they would only bring more problems than actually solve. For most league heroes seem to rely on an emotion power boost,” Red nodded along with her statement gears starting to turn. “And with Hawkmoth feeding on those emotions would make them a liability.”

“Agreed, I for one do not want to fight a mind controlled and upgraded superman,” The cowled male answered giving her some assurance that he would make sure the league would not interfere with Paris.

Being assured things would be stable until they could talk things out in two days, the two bid each other goodnight. 

As Red Robin took off into the night Blue Royal took one more look at his soul, but instead of looking at his core she observed the spectral dragon that was coiling around his soul. It was the mark of a true soul. Which led to the question: Was that Timothy?

The nudge of the leopard beside her snapped Marinette out of her head and back to reality. Swiftly she and her companions took off to her nest. She had a lot to think about, to plan for and to do and the night was not getting any younger.

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[mischiefandspirits]

Oldest and Newest

Damian tugged down his face mask as he looked out over Gotham city. He was finally here.

After two decades of anticipation, after nearly a decade of work, it should have been a happy occasion.

He tugged the mask back up as he heard a scream nearby.

He stopped three muggings, saved a woman from assault, and stopped a robbery by the time a flicker of purple started following him.

He scared off some men that were following a woman then pretended to take off northward before ducking around a water tower and sneaking up on his pursuer as they tried to follow. He took them in before approaching.

They looked about five foot six. The dark body armor and cloak hid their build some, but the way they carried themself proved they were muscular even if not overly broad. As he grew closer, he could see that the armor was primarily black with dark purple detailing that matched the cloak’s color. They also wore a full face mask like his friend Vesper’s, though theirs had white lenses that stood out against the black fabric instead of being completely black like the older vigilante. They were cautious, yet sure-footed as they raced over the rooftops which showed a familiarity with the territory and an understanding of its dangers.

Similarly, their growing annoyance showed they’d realized they’d lost him so Damian swooped in to pin them against an air conditioning unit. They tried to throw him off, but his larger size and superior skills kept them pinned long enough to bind their hands and tie them to the unit.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” he growled, crossing his arms and looming over them.

They stared at him for a moment, head tilting to the side, then snorted. “No wonder he got mistaken for B a few times. Are you seeing this guy?” the young woman -- judging by her voice -- muttered to herself before saying, “I’m Spoiler and I’m following you because you randomly showed up in Gotham and started playing vigilante. Don’t you know Batman doesn’t like that?”

“And yet, here you are doing the same.”

“Excuse you, I’m Batman’s partner. I earned my place on these rooftops.”

“Right.”

She tilted up her chin and crossed her arms. “I am!”

Damian frowned, but didn’t move to redo the ties she’d slipped. Vesper had told him that his father was a solo hero. Batman worked with the Justice League and the Birds of Prey as necessary, but he’d never had a permanent confidant or taken on an apprentice like some of the other heroes. The closest thing he had to partners were the Batgirls. According to Vesper, though, neither ever developed a close bond with the man. The two might be called in as backup or would team up with his father when their paths crossed, but they never depended on one another. His father was more of an inspiration, patron, and occasional teammate than a partner to either woman.

Spoiler didn’t seem to be lying, however, and appeared too forward to be capable of deceiving him. Had something changed in the four years since he’d talked to Vesper? Perhaps he should have gone with his original plan of waiting to go out until after he’d spoken with her the next day after all.

Hindsight and such were not going to change the present, however.

He looked over the woman again. Girl, he realized. Given her proportions, she was likely in her mid-teens though he could be wrong as the armor was rather concealing. An apprentice, then, which explained why she had not fallen beside her supposed partner. The mission his father perished on must have been deemed too dangerous for her to accompany him.

He carefully thought over his next words. He was not ready to announce his presence yet as clearly he had some research to do and he needed to speak with Vesper. He also didn’t know how trustworthy Spoiler was. Even if she was telling the truth about being his father’s partner, that did not tell him just how far his father’s trust in her went and therefore how far he should trust her in turn.

He stepped back from the girl, dropping his arms and attempting to take on a less antagonistic posture. “Then I am sorry for your loss.”

“Loss?” Spoiler questioned.

“Batman’s death,” he answered slowly. Had no one told her?

“What? Batman’s not dead.”

Oh, no, she was simply trying to hide the truth. “My contacts within the Justice League say otherwise.”

Batman's death had left Flamebird uncharacteristically despondent of late, understandably given how close his father and Damian’s were and the fact Flamebird had been on the mission where Batman perished.

“Someone’s going to get an ass beating,” she muttered, storming to her feet. She poked him in the chest. “So what, you find out Batman’s gone and decide that means you have a free pass to just do whatever you want in my city.”

Damian pushed her hand away, fighting down the urge to stab it. “As I think we’ve established, I had no idea you existed. I simply had business in Gotham and thought I’d do some good for a recently undefended city.”

“Yeah, well, now you know the city is being defended.”

“By a child, yes,” Damian scoffed before he could stop himself and the girl bristled.

“Who the fickle frack are you to judge me?”

After being momentarily stunned by her euphemism, he answered, “I am Ẓill.”

She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “Yeah, no offense, it’s def a me problem, but if I try to say that I will totally beat it to hell and back with a tire iron then set it on fire and spit on it just for good measure. Is that an alien language?”

“Arabic.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, that’s why I’m sticking to the Romance languages for now.” She glanced to the side. “Do you know Arabic?”

“I-” he started, but she waved him quiet.

“I thought you were going to learn after the last run-in with… Okay, yeah, that’s fair. So… Well of course he can, the little polyglot.” She turned back to Damian as he started to wonder if the girl was insane. “So your name translates to Shadow. Mind if I just call you that because, again, I will not be responsible for the atrocity that leaves my mouth if I try to pronounce Arabic without time to practice.”

“Shadow is fine.” She wouldn’t be the first, as it had taken both Flamebird and Beacon awhile to learn how to pronounce his name properly, and the Ismoian still called him that on occasion as a nickname. More accurately she called him Shadow the Hedgehog, but that was a reference he refused to investigate given Flamebird’s reaction to it. “Who are you talking to?”

She gestured to the side of her head. “Augur. He’s our eye-in-the-sky computer guy. Hacking, running comms, information gathering, strategy, all that fun stuff.”

“I thought Oracle worked with Batman when he needed assistance with that.”

“Oracle? I mean, she helped train Augur and helps out when he needs a hand, but she’s got the Birds of Prey and Vesper, not to mention helping out the Justice League sometimes. I think she used to do a lot more for Batman back before Augur, but she’s got her own shit to do now. Augur’s our main man.”

He really should have waited to speak to Vesper. Clearly his information was more out of date than he thought.

“So, Shadow Weaver, what brings you to Gotham then?”

“Shadow Weaver?” He growled when she nodded, radiating amusement. That was clearly another reference he didn’t want to know anything about. “My being here is none of your concern.”

“Random unknown vigilantes being in my city are, like, the definition of my concern,” she said, cocking a hip.

“Your city?”

“Yeah, my city. So either tell me why you’re here or get lost.”

“And if I don’t?”

She shifted into a fighting stance. “I’ll make you.”

Damian snorted at the threat, then was yanked backward by his hood. He brought his hand up to defend, which was knocked aside.

He froze when he recognized the featureless mask staring down at him.

“I told you to keep your head down,” Vesper reprimanded, poking him in the forehead.

“If you had warned me that Batman had picked up a disciple this wouldn’t have happened,” he huffed and Spoiler pretended to gag.

“Ew, gross, don’t call me that. Makes it sound like I worship B or something, which, yeah, no.”

“Stop picking fights with Spoiler,” Vesper said and poked his forehead again. “Batman is already going to be mad enough.”

Damian’s eyes darted away from his friend and, behind Vesper, he saw Spoiler flinch.

Vesper let him back up and shoved him away. She turned to Spoiler. “I’ll deal with him. He’s a friend. Sorry.”

The girl nodded and left.

“Come on.”

The older vigilante led him to the rooftop of a clock tower. She used a biometric scanner to unlock a hidden hatch and they slipped inside, dropping down ropes into a workspace.

There was an elaborate computer setup in one corner, oddly lacking a chair, and a workout space in the other. Mirroring that was a modest medical area in one corner and a kitchenette in the other with seating at the island. Elevator doors stood between the computers and medical area while a couch and some chairs sat at the center of the room.

Pulling off her hood and mask, Cassandra led him to the couch. He removed his own hood and mask then pulled his katana off his back to lean against his leg as he sat next to her on the couch.

“You look good,” she said, glancing over him.

“You too. It’s good to see you again.”

She nodded, then lightly slapped his arm. “What were you thinking, Damian? I know I told you how protective Batman is of his territory.”

Damian’s left hand came up to trace the phoenix engraved onto his right bracer. “When was the last time you spoke to someone in the Justice League?”

She frowned, studying him. “I have been on an Outsiders mission for the past month, and was busy with a show the month before that. If Oracle has worked with them in that time, she hasn’t said anything. Why?”

“A little under a month ago, a JL team went on a mission. I don’t know the full details, but it had something to do with Darkseid and… Batman did not make it back.”

She didn’t react visibly, but her voice was soft when she asked, “You are sure?”

“Jon was on the mission. He said Batman was vaporized right before their eyes. I’m sorry.”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. After her moment of silence, she looked up at him, face blank. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you here? Why do you care? You’ve always been interested in Batman, but this is… more.”

He sat up straight, hands fisting on his thighs. “I told you my name was Damian Naji, but that was a lie. My name is actually Damian al Ghul. My mother is Talia al Ghul… and my father was Batman.”

She studied him. “Batman… did not know?”

“Not as far as I am aware. Mother told me she told him she miscarried because I would be a distraction to him and the cause. After everything you’ve told me about him, I think she and Grandfather were just worried he’d take me from them. If she told him after I left, I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell him? You could have come to him for help when you ran away from the League.”

“Tt. You know how I was back then. I was everything Father stood against. He wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me. Not until I could prove I was worthy of him.”

She reached out to take his hand. “That’s not true. He knew my past and he accepted me.”

“You killed one person, instantly regretted it, and never killed again. I spent almost ten years as an assassin. It’s not the same. Besides, you were just an occasional teammate. I’m…”

“His son. Which is exactly why I know he would have loved you. Batman cares deeply for those who he considers his own. Even Oracle and I. He keeps -” She frowned and looked down. “He kept his distance from us, but only because he felt he didn’t have a right to us. Oracle had a parent and was independent, only needing help getting her feet under her. I was an adult, legally, when we met and Oracle took on my training since she was the one who found me and had practice working with younger heroes due to assisting Black Canary with the Justice League’s minor division. Had he found you, though, he wouldn’t have hesitated. You would have been his.

“He would not have been happy about how you were raised, but he still would have loved you. He would not have turned you away, even if you had wanted to continue down the path of an assassin. He would have seen that wasn’t what you wanted, though, and taught you a new way. You would not have had to do it on your own.”

Damian shook his head. “No, I had to prove that I wasn’t what my mother made me. I had to prove I could follow his rules, only then could I present myself as his heir.”

“You wouldn’t have had to prove anything to him.”

He pulled his hand away to trail it against his bracer again. “Perhaps you are right. You knew him better than I. But I did have to prove it to myself.”

She shook her head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders despite him being a head taller and twice as wide. “How?”

“My first kill was on my sixth birthday. I was fifteen when we met and I decided to leave behind the League’s ways in favor of Father’s. It… took me longer than I liked to push through the instincts to kill so on my sixteenth birthday I made an oath. Ten years of saving lives to atone for ten years of taking them. Only if I reached my twenty-sixth birthday without taking another life would I come to Gotham.”

“That is why you’ve come.”

“No, my birthday is still a few months away, but… Jon told me what happened. I realized I was too late so I am here to… I thought if I could never present myself to Father absolved of guilt, I could at least protect the city he devoted himself to since I believed it was now undefended.”

“You did not know about the others,” she chuckled.

“You told me he worked alone,” he growled.

“He did when we last spoke.” She pulled away, tilting her head. “Am I your only source for information?”

“Yes. I did not know if I could trust any other source given his reclusiveness.”

“But I only told you about Batman. What about behind the man under the cowl?”

He slumped back against the couch.

“You do not know who he is,” she said, amusement in her voice.

“Mother always told me I would learn who he was when I’d earned it. The only things I know are that I am his only family and heir. That’s why I asked you to meet me. I wanted to do this properly and cover his responsibilities in and out of the mask, but I can’t do that without knowing who he is. I’d hoped that either you would know or you could help me figure it out.”

She hummed and glanced to the side.

He followed her gaze to see a clock on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning.

Suddenly she hopped to her feet and dragged him up. “You said you are staying at Hotel Belle Monico?”

“Yes, room 3215.”

“Go straight back there and get changed.”

He nodded, figuring she wanted to get some rest. “Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

After getting her confirmation, he climbed up the ropes and did as told. It only took him fifteen minutes to get back to his room and another twenty to change out of his vigilante attire, lock all his gear away, shower, and put on his sleeping clothes. Once that was done he started to debate whether or not to get some sleep or do a bit of research first.

A knock came at his door.

He grabbed the small dagger he kept on him at all times and palmed one of the knives he’d hidden around the room as he approached the door. He peeked through the peephole, then tucked both weapons into his waistband and opened the door.

Cassandra had lost her own suit in favor of a casual teal dress and gold-brown leggings. She frowned as she took him in and started shoving him further into the room before he could say anything. “Get dressed.”

“What’s going on?”

“Clothes.”

Well aware he wasn’t going to get anything out of her, he slipped into the suite's bedroom and changed into some slacks and a polo.

“Good,” she said when he came out, then turned on her heel and left.

He quickly followed after grabbing his wallet and one of the room’s keycards.

“Where are we going?” he asked once they were in the elevator, but she just smiled at him.

The silence continued as they climbed into her car and she drove them through the city. He tried to ask again when they crossed a bridge out of the main city and into a neighborhood filled with mansions and old manors, but she remained tight-lipped until they pulled up to the gate of a larger manor.

She rolled down the window and hit the call button, which was soon answered over the video screen by an older gentleman in a butler’s uniform.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Cain,” the man said in a warm, British accent. “I was told you might make an appearance, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Hello, Alfred. Should this wait?”

“No, you might as well come in now. They’re all still awake after tonight’s events,” he sighed and the gates began to creak open.

“Sorry,” she said and he waved her off before the screen went dark.

Curiosity itched at Damian, but he stayed quiet as Cassandra drove up to the front door and they climbed out.

Alfred met them at the door. He gave Cassandra a kind smile then turned it to Damian. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Cain. And who is this?”

She looped her arm around one of Damian’s. “An old friend. Alfred, this is Damian Wayne. Damian, this is Alfred Pennyworth.”

He didn’t react to the name, assuming she’d just given him an alias, but the calculating expression on Alfred’s face as he stared at Damian’s had him second-guessing the assumption.

The expression was quickly replaced by a sad smile, however, as the man stepped back to allow them into the manor. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Master Damian.”

“You as well, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Just Alfred, my boy. Please come in. The others are winding down in the family room.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Cassandra said, then led Damian into the house by his arm. They went up the main staircase in the entrance hall and into the first door on the left where they found a room inhabited by a group of children.

The oldest were a pair of teenagers sitting on the couch.

The girl was white, but tanned with long blonde hair pulled into a messy braid and dark green eyes. She was thin but muscular and he could see her arms were covered in small scars thanks to her Gotham Sirens tank top. She was cradling a sleeping infant who was wrapped in a Wonder Woman blanket and clutching a stuffed Batman.

The other teen was more androgynous, body hidden under an overly large White Arrow hoodie and Supergirl sweat pants. They were Latine with their skin a pale brown and their eyes a silvery blue. Their hair was black and chin-length. They had a video game controller on their lap and a tablet in their hands.

The next oldest was a preteen boy with a book sitting sideways in an armchair, back against one arm and legs draped over the other. He was fair with freckles speckling his face around his navy eyes. His hair was short and a dark red, almost black color. He was thin and muscular like the girl, but there was a touch of broadness to his shoulders that spoke of a bulkiness to come with puberty. A German Shepherd was squeezed onto the chair with him, half-tucked under the boy's legs with his head on the boy's stomach for pets.

The last child was a few years younger than the preteen. He both had the most conditioned and the least combative build of the children, having more of a gymnast's figure. His skin was of a similar olive tone to Damian’s, though a few shades lighter, and his curly hair was brown-black. Damian couldn’t see his eyes as he was dozing on a rug in front of the tv with a three-legged pitbull puppy, both curled around a large stuffed elephant. A video game controller was abandoned behind the boy.

The three awake children turned to Damian and Cassandra when they entered. They all greeted her warmly, but the girl and boy eyed him warily while the androgynous teen studied him with sharp curiosity.

“Who’s your friend, Cassie?” the boy asked.

Cassandra shoved Damian further into the room. “Your brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So last month I made a post asking if anyone had written a story where the Robins' ages were reversed as is the trope, but they still got taken in by Bruce in the same order as well as giving some ideas for how that could work. No one ever got back to me on if that was already a thing so I figured I might as well write out one of the scenes that really caught my interest when brainstorming.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Nights in the City

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

Almost forgot to queue this, oops. Luckily I remembered just in time :) Anyway, this is a chapter about Schneep, because I feel like we should give him more attention in this AU. I mean, he’s a cool badass superhero, and we haven’t seen that much superhero-ing so far! So, here’s a short chapter about what that usually entails for him, with some cameos from the boys and some background characters. Enjoy :)

More of this AU found here

When most people lied about calling in sick to work, they were planning on doing something fun with their free time. But when Schneep lied about being sick, it was because he’d heard that there were some shady dealings going down on the north side of town that morning, and he had to be there to hear the information. Truly, the life of a vigilante was a glamorous one.

At least he’d had an extra-large cup of coffee that morning to make up for it. That would keep him alert as he waited on a rooftop ledge for said shady people to show up. This would be a terrible place to lose his balance. But it was the best hiding spot in the area, partially covered by a decorative stone outcropping while still being within earshot of the street below. It was a cloudy day, and not a lot of people were out and about. Which is why, when two people walked up to each other and sat down on a bench outside the building where Schneep was hiding, he paid extra close attention.

Luckily, there wasn’t too much wind or other background noise. He managed to get the gist of what these two were talking about. They were using a lot of the common code words that criminals in the city had developed. And he was familiar enough with that code to figure out they were talking about smuggling some firearms into the city. They mentioned the west edge more than once, referencing some common location that he wasn’t familiar with. And then they left.

Schneep frowned under his mask. It wasn’t a lot to go off of...but he didn’t mind. It would be nice to distract himself with a normal criminal case. To take his mind off all the stressful supernatural shit they’d been going through for the past months. And as a distraction, it was working. As he carefully slid off the roof ledge and onto a windowsill below, he was already running through the crime hotspots he knew about in the west side of the city.

Now that he was grabbing onto the windowsill below, he was about twenty feet above ground, so he dropped off the building altogether. With the ease of years of practice, he landed on his feet, letting his specially designed boots absorb the shock of the fall. Great. Now all he had to do was go home and spend the rest of the day narrowing down locations.

But as he turned to leave, Schneep paused. There was a car parked down the street, on the opposite side. Not unusual, but...it had been parked there when he arrived to eavesdrop on the criminals’ conversation. An hour ago. And again, not too unusual, but...it just didn’t look like the kind of car that would be common in this area. It was too new and clean.

Wary, Schneep looked away from it. After a moment’s hesitation, he started to walk down the street away from the car, remaining on edge and listening for anything odd.

Sure enough, as soon as he started to walk away, he heard the sound of a car starting and pulling onto the road. Going slow. Approaching. He sped up a bit, glancing around for alternate routes.

After only a minute, the car was driving alongside him. He glanced over at it just as the window rolled down. A voice shouted, “Hey!”

And Schneep immediately turned and ran into a gap between the buildings. “Hey wait!” The voice shouted, and he heard the car stop, but he didn’t slow down. There was a fire escape up ahead with a ladder, pulled up so the end was about six and a half feet off the ground. He jumped, catching onto the bottom rung, and started climbing. There were more shouts on the ground below. He didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. Instead, once he reached the first landing of the fire escape, he pushed open the window and ducked inside the—fortunately—abandoned building.

He quickly found the staircase and climbed up until he reached the roof access. Once up there, he glanced around and noticed that this building was fairly close to one of the ones next to it. So without hesitation, he jumped across the gap and onto the next building’s roof. Only then did he pause, and look over the edge to the street below.

The building was about five stories tall. Short enough that he could see a figure on the sidewalk below, tall enough to make it difficult to tell who they were. Luckily, he didn’t have to. He’d gotten a pretty good look of her when she rolled down the car window earlier. It was that detective, Kikelomo. The one who’d been working on Jackie’s disappearance, and later, the kids’ as well. And...the detective he’d ran into when he’d snuck into the police station a month ago.

“Scheiße,” Schneep cursed. He’d half-hoped that she’d forgotten about seeing him, but apparently not. And apparently she’d managed to put together that the stranger from that day was him...or, more accurately, was his ‘hero identity,’ Von Voltage. It wasn’t surprising. After all, he’d zapped a couple people when getting away. Probably a big no-no to zap people working for the police, but he’d been more concerned with leaving as fast as possible.

Was she looking for him? She must have been, but how did she find him? Silently, Schneep watched as she walked out to her car—which she parked in the middle of the street when she got out to chase him, that was a bit of a dick move—and climbed into the driver’s side, soon speeding off. He waited until the car was out of sight before leaving.

———————

A while later, Schneep arrived at Marvin and Jameson’s house, still in his super suit. He’d been careful not to be seen while running here, just in case Kikelomo was still trailing him without him knowing. But by the time he reached their street, he was pretty sure she was gone. This neighborhood wasn’t too busy, any activity was noteworthy. But he didn’t see anything strange. And JJ’s car was still in his driveway, so at least one of them was home.

Letting himself relax a bit, Schneep hurried to their front door, pulling his mask off as soon as he reached the doorstep. Without knocking, he opened the door, calling out, “Hello? Who is home?” And then he froze.

Normally, the front hall of the town house was empty. But not today. And the person he ran into wasn’t Marvin or JJ. It was Jack. Leaning against the wall by the kitchen entrance, Sam on his shoulder, looking at his phone. But he looked up at the sound of Schneep’s voice. And slowly, took in the outfit he was wearing. “Well that would explain some things,” he muttered, looking down at Sam. “Wouldn’t it?” They nodded.

“I—I—uh—you—it’s—ah—” Schneep stammered for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?” he asked, slowly closing the front door behind him.

“JJ called me. There’s...um...a situation.” Jack gestured towards the kitchen entrance. Now that Schneep was getting over the shock of running into a stranger, he could hear someone’s voice coming from the room. “Apparently everyone else was busy.”

Schneep frowned. “Excuse me.” He walked past Jack and peered into the kitchen.

The voice that Schneep could hear was Marvin’s. He was arguing loudly with JJ. But Schneep could tell that wasn’t the ‘situation’ Jack was referring to. No, the ‘situation’ probably had to do with the fact that Marvin was pale as a sheet and sweating, even as he continued to argue. JJ wasn’t arguing back because his hands were busy helping keep Marvin upright, arms wrapped around his torso. Marvin clearly didn’t have the energy to stand on his own, and was holding onto JJ’s shirt tightly, even as he continued to protest.

“—not worth th’ trouble, it’s all fine,” Marvin was saying. “Y’can just go on and stop fuckin’ worryin’ about me. I can handle t’is, ‘ve done it a million times.”

JJ frowned, and didn’t say anything. Oddly enough, he was wearing his mask today, usually he only wore that for performances. He glanced over towards the door that connected the kitchen and the dining room. A red-haired woman was standing there, but at his look, she said, “Right, right,” and stepped aside. Immediately, JJ started dragging Marvin to the dining room.

“Hey! No! Drop it, Jems!” Marvin hit him weakly in the shoulder. “I don’ need to sit down.”

JJ just looked at him doubtfully.

Schneep felt this was a good moment to interject. “Ah, am I interrupting something?”

The two of them looked over at him. “Henrik! Tell him ‘m fine!” Marvin said.

“Sorry, I cannot do that,” Schneep said. “I would hate to lie to my friends.”

“Wha...?” Marvin groaned. “Alrigh’ fffffine, I’ll go...go sit at the table.” JJ looked relieved, and helped him over to the dining room, gesturing for Schneep to join them.

Nodding, Schneep retreated back into the hallway, circling around to the dining room. Jack, having heard most of that exchange, followed him.

Over in the dining room, Marvin had taken a seat at the table, leaning forward. He looked like he wanted to put his head down on the surface, but was barely resisting the urge. JJ was standing next to him, and the redheaded woman was standing off to the side. Upon seeing her, Schneep tried to retreat, again remembering that he was still wearing his super suit. Unfortunately, she caught sight of him before he could back out of the room. She gave him a friendly smile and waved.

“So...what is happening?” Schneep asked slowly.

JJ started to explain in sign language. I have rehearsal today. The first one since the...voice accident. So I really need to go. But Marvin got sick this morning and I didn’t want to leave him alone, because of how he is. But he’s insisting I go anyway and I didn’t need to call anyone to watch him, because he’s fine. A lot of the words were finger-spelled, slowing down the speech, but he was starting to get the hang of it. Nowadays he signed more frequently than he wrote.

“I see.” Schneep nodded wisely. A rehearsal, that would explain why JJ was wearing his mask. “And so you called these two to help?” He indicated Jack and the redheaded woman.

I called Jack, Jameson said, finger-spelling the name. Because Jackie’s at work, and Anti’s busy recording today, and I thought you were at work, too. I thought Jack could help, if it wasn’t a bother.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Jack said. “I was happy to come over and hang out. There’s just the bonus matter of making sure Marvin doesn’t kill himself.”

“I know what ‘m doin’,” Marvin grumbled.

You do, you just decide to cause problems on purpose, JJ rebutted.

“Okay,” Schneep said, mentally filing away the fact that Jack knew BSL. He turned to the redheaded woman. “And you are...?”

“I’m Aoife,” the woman said. “A friend of Jameson’s. He invited me to watch his rehearsal, since apparently he likes to have someone in the audience usually and Marvin wasn’t up for it. But I don’t know how to get to the theatre where he’s rehearsing, so I thought I’d stop by to ask Jameson if he could drive me. When I walked in, these two were faffing about.”

“No, Jems was faffing, I wasn’,” Marvin protested.

“Everyone is Irish,” Schneep muttered. “Dare I ask what that means?”

I understand it means ‘wasting time,’ basically, Jameson said.

“An’ you were def’nitely wasting time,” Marvin added. “Ye’ll be late at...at t’is rate.”

I’d be okay with that, as long as someone’s here to make sure you don’t do anything to tire yourself out.

“Stop worryin’ ‘bout me, you always...ye always worry ‘bout others. Be concerned with yourself, for once. Spreading too thin, stop.” Marvin’s words were starting to slur together.

“Well, ah, I was stopping by to ask if I could stay for a while,” Schneep asked. “So...I could stay and help out.”

Would you? Jameson asked.

“Of course.”

“Ye jus’ poppin’ in to check on us?” Marvin grinned a bit. “Real swell o’you.”

“That, and...ah...” Schneep awkwardly looked down at his costume. “I was out, and I didn’t—I-I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Not that there is any danger, I just...for me.” Even though he was sure Detective Kikelomo hadn’t followed him here, there was a lingering sense of paranoia that wouldn’t leave him alone.

It’s fine, Henrik, Jameson said. Jack, do you want to stay?

“If everyone’s fine with it,” Jack said cheerfully.

Marvin muttered something under his breath, finally laying his head down on the table. He appeared to have given up on getting JJ to not worry about him.

That would be so helpful, thank you both. JJ sighed. He shook Marvin’s shoulder, getting his attention. Call me if you need anything. And please, actually take the medicine this time?

“Sure, Jems,” Marvin said softly. “I promise. Now get out o’here.”

JJ nodded, and headed out, gesturing for Aoife to follow him. I’ll see all of you this afternoon. Five at the latest.

“Have fun, Jameson,” Schneep said. “Do lots of mag—oof!”

“Oh, sorry!” Aoife had bumped into him as she walked past to leave the room. She gave him a smile. “I didn’t mean it, I was trying to be quiet.”

“Is fine, do not worry,” Schneep assured her.

“Great. Oh, and if you find it, don’t get rid of it, will you?” Before Schneep could ask what she meant, she breezed past him and followed JJ out of the door.

Schneep was quiet for a moment, staring after her. Then he turned back to Jack and Marvin. “Do you two know what she meant?”

Marvin paused. “No, but I do know somet’ing. Aoife, she’s...she’s Jems’s magician friend. Works for whatever magic...place there is out there. For magicians. An’ she’s told him that she...her specialty is divination. So it’s probably important.”

Schneep blinked. “Divination? Like...seeing the future?” He couldn’t hide the skeptical tone in his voice.

“It’s not so weird,” Jack said. “Like, Sam gets feelings that they should go do something. That’s how they met all of you. I think that’s a form of divination, if just a minor bit of it.” Sam jumped in agreement.

“Well...alright.” Schneep decided to put that aside for now. “Ah, Marvin. Were you doing anything in particular that made Jems think he should call someone?”

Marvin hesitated. “I was tryin’ t’make tea,” he finally mumbled.

“Oh, tea. That sounds like a good idea,” Schneep said. “I will go make some, then.”

“...t’ank you.”

“No problem at all.” And Schneep headed back into the kitchen, determined to forget about the detective who was looking for him.

——————— 

The next few days passed uneventfully. Schneep would spend his nights scouting out locations, looking for a place that could fit the area the two criminals were referring to. They mentioned this arms deal going down a week from then, so he had that much time to narrow down where it could be taking place. He settled on three possible locations in the western part of the city that could fit, and decided to check each of them when the day came.

Said day arrived quickly, and it dawned rainy. That was annoying. And cold, because of course it was, it was practically winter by this point. His suit was insulated, but he still felt the chill. He could’ve just let it go, but he didn’t become a notorious vigilante by giving up. So he found himself running about in the rain for hours, tracking down the locations.

The first two were busts, no suspicious activity there. But as they say, the third time was the charm. Schneep arrived at an old electronics shop just as the sun was starting to go down on the dark rainy day. The sign out front said it was closed, but the lights were on inside. Not too unusual. Except for the fact that he’d suspected this place was some sort of front for a while.

Schneep waited in the shadows across the street, making sure the glowing parts of his costume were turned off, and watched the shop. He’d brought along a pair of binoculars for the scouting that day, and kept an eye on the front and side entrances. It was a few minutes before he caught sight of movement near the side. People. He couldn’t make out the details, but someone appeared in the front window to close the blinds. Maybe nothing. Or maybe...

It warranted further investigation. Schneep slipped the binoculars into a backpack, which he left tucked into a space in the wall caused by missing bricks, and hurried across the street to the shop. There weren’t many alternative entrances to this place. He’d checked. The closest thing was a window in the back, so he circled around the building to reach it. The window was high in the wall, but there were some trash cans in the nearby alley that he pulled over so he could reach it. 

Carefully, he peered over the ledge through the window. It was a bit difficult to make out the room at first, since the glass was dirty on the inside and covered in rain on the outside, but he could see a group of people. Eight of them, separated into two groups of four. And wouldn’t you know it? He recognized two of them as the pair he’d overheard last week.

The window was the type that would slide open. So Schneep slid it open an inch, listening for voices over the sound of the rain.

“—just hurry up, neither of us want this to last forever,” one voice was saying.

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your pants in a twist.” There was the sound of cloth rustling. “See? It’s right here.”

“How do we know it’s all there? And real?”

“Well, how do we know you aren’t handing over some shoddy weapons? Or ones that’ll be tracked by the coppers?”

“Just shut up,” a different voice said. “If we keep goin’ this way, we’ll be at a standoff all night. Let’s just exchange goods at the same time, then check them over.”

“Right.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

Just by this snippet of conversation, Schneep figured out that there were two groups in this exchange, and they had some trust issues with each other. Great, that would mean he’d be fighting two groups of four instead of one unified group of eight. Hopefully, some of them would try to run or attack the other group when he jumped in. And speaking of which...this seemed like a good time. When the ‘goods’ were changing hands. Silently, he slid open the window. It opened wide enough for a person. So he grabbed the edge of the windowsill, braced himself, and just as someone inside was saying, “Hey, the window’s open—” he leapt through.

He landed in the center of the room, causing instant confusion and shouting. Quickly, he grabbed the nearest person and zapped them, instantly knocking them unconscious. There was a large crate on a wheeled dolly nearby, so he kicked that towards two others. One jumped out of the way but the other was surprised and easily got knocked over.

“This was a setup!” One of the criminals shouted, pulling out a knife. “You dirty bastards!”

“Don’t pin this on us!” Another yelled, pulling out a knife of her own.

So none of them had firearms. At least, that he could see. And he assumed that the crate had some inside, so that was a factor. He’d have to be—

One of the criminals came charging at him, swiping with a knife. Schneep dodged out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the blade grazing across his upper arm. Luckily, it didn’t break through the suit. He grabbed the culprit’s arm with both hands and, with a fair amount of effort, threw them into another criminal who was also running towards him. He let out another burst of electricity from his gloves as he did so, rendering that one unconscious as well. Then he ducked close to the ground, scooping up the knife the criminal dropped in surprise when he threw him, and dodged to the side, avoiding the sudden rush of every other criminal trying to grab him at once.

So that was two down, one temporarily out of commission as he tried to wiggle out from under the body of his friend. The one he’d hit with the crate was standing up, trying to pry open the lid. “Oh no, don’t you dare,” Schneep growled, lunging over towards the crate and grabbing one edge of it. The criminal looked up at him, shocked, then tried to punch him. He ducked, and swung the knife he’d picked up. The criminal ducked in turn, but didn’t notice that Schneep had also lunged forward, other hand coming from the other side and knocking him unconscious with a single hit. Three down.

Two of the remaining ones were now fighting with each other—as he’d predicted—and grappling in the corner. The one who’d been knocked down was standing again, recovering her bearings, and the other two were running at him. Quickly, he decided on a priority: get the crate full of guns out of reach of any of these people before taking them out. So naturally, he pushed it forward again. The two running at him leaped out of the way, clearly not wanting the same thing to happen to them as happened to their friend. Schneep took advantage of their distraction and ran after the crate, grabbing the edge of the dolly and swinging it around so it was facing the room’s door. Then he pushed it out, running after it.

“Hey!” They were shouting after him, but he couldn’t slow down. The crate, being large and heavy, was swiftly gaining momentum as it rolled down the hall. He managed to turn it through the open doorway leading to the front of the shop, but once it was in there, all he could do was aim it for the front entrance.

The crate easily smashed through the double doors and rolled out onto the street, impacting the side of a car—wait, a car?!

A siren started up, and blue lights started to flash through the blinds of the front window. Schneep let out a string of curses under his breath. He could either turn back and try to leave through the window or the side entrance, facing a small group of criminals with knives, or go through the front door and try to avoid who-knows-how-many police officers, none of whom liked him.

He thought about it for a split second before turning and going back into the back of the shop. Luckily, the criminals were also taken by surprise, so he managed to slip by them and out through the side entrance before they could. He started to run, but then paused. He grabbed one of the trash cans that he hadn’t used to get through the back window and pulled it in front of the side door, barring it. Then he started to run, heading towards the opposite end of the alley.

But then a bright yellow light shone into the alleyway. Schneep glanced behind him just long enough to confirm his first thoughts: car headlights. And a voice shouted, “You there!” and he turned and ran. Hopefully the still-falling rain would make it easy for him to lose them.

“Wait! Don’t run again!” Footsteps splashed behind him, but he didn’t stop. He ran until he reached the other end of the alley and emerged onto the opposite street. This side was empty. He glanced left, then right, then turned left and kept running. The footsteps were keeping pace with him, but if he could just get to a ladder or something he could lose them on the rooftops.

One of the streetlamps overhead was out, leaving a patch of shadow on the sidewalk and road. He ran underneath it and looked back towards the person behind—

Slip.

Because of the rain, the broken streetlamp, and that backwards glance, he didn’t see the water pooling on the sidewalk, or notice the curb that marked the corner of the street. One misstep was all it took for him to fall hard onto the street, hitting his head, and everything flashed white before fading to black.

———————

The pain was the first thing Schneep noticed when regaining consciousness. The back of his head felt like his skull had split open. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on...a seat of some kind. A sofa? Well, it was a hard and unusually small sofa if that was the case. He heard voices as well, or maybe just one, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, so he ignored them and opened his eyes. Black spots danced in front of him, a shadowy face faded into his peripheral vision before fading away. Well, that was normal, so he ignored that, too. “Ja, piss off,” he muttered.

“Well, that’s a bit rude.”

That voice...sounded a bit more solid. And as he looked around his surroundings, it reinforced that first impression. He wasn’t lying on a sofa, but in the backseat of a car. Rain dotted the windows, and a light in the ceiling overhead lit up the scene in a yellow-white glow. He glanced towards the direction the voice had come from. And came face to face with Detective Kikelomo, sitting in the front seat of the car, looking around the back of the seat to stare at him.

His heart stopped. He realized he wasn’t wearing his mask anymore. Okay, time to disregard the slight murmurings that he could still hear, this was higher priority. After a moment of staring at her, frozen, he lurched into a sitting position and turned around to try and open the car door. That didn’t work, because first, it was locked, and second, the sudden motion sent a wave of nausea coursing through him. He groaned again, pressing his forehead to the car window and clenching his teeth.

“Be careful,” Kikelomo said. “You were out for a few minutes, and you might have a concussion. I was going to offer to drive you to the hospital after this.”

“Is fine,” Schneep said through gritted teeth. “I can take care of it.” Jackie would be waiting for him back at his apartment anyway. Though he didn’t like the idea of making him worried with a possible concussion, it was probably better to get his opinion first before taking it to a doctor who’d ask questions.

“Take care of it the way you took care of that puddle Rachel said you slipped in?” At this point, Schneep realized there was someone else in the car, in the front passenger seat. A woman, with blonde hair cut to chin-length. “Real nice for some superhero.”

“Shut...up.” Schneep squeezed his eyes shut. God, his head still hurt. But more importantly...“Am I being detained?”

“Well...” Kikelomo picked at the stitching on her leather seat, glanced over at the other woman, then looked back at Schneep. “No. Not exactly.”

That wasn’t what he was expecting. Schneep looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t my plan at all,” Kikelomo said. “Though...I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering it. I was going back and forth, but then...well...that note convinced me.”

“Note?” Schneep asked, confused.

The other woman held up a folded piece of paper, a bit wet from the rain but not enough to lose its integrity. “This fell out of your...costume...when we were dragging you into the car. What’s this about, anyway?”

Schneep managed to sit up straight. “May I see that?”

The woman shrugged, and handed it over. He quickly unfolded it. There was a message written on it, in solid, straight handwriting. It read: To Rachel and Lydia. He means you no harm, and is no threat to you. I think you should let him go, because he’s currently dealing with something that your normal police can’t handle. It’d be better for everyone that way. Oh, and swing by that shop on Everett that you’ve been wanting to visit on Saturday :)

He read it a couple times, processing what it said. “I...have no idea what this is,” he finally admitted.

“Really?” Kikelomo said doubtfully.

“Really, I—” Schneep paused. “Oh.” Last week, when he’d gone to Marvin and JJ’s house. That magician friend of JJ’s, Aoife, had bumped into him. She said something weird about not getting rid of something ‘if he found it.’ This must be that something. “I understand now. It got slipped into one of my pockets, I did not even know it was there.”

Kikelomo still looked unsure. “Well...who put it there? And how did they know our first names?”

Schneep shrugged. “Someone who bumped into me. A stranger.” Not technically a lie, he wasn’t familiar with Aoife. But Marvin said she had divination magic. Had she...known this would happen?

“Alright, fine, let’s put that aside for now,” Kikelomo dismissed. “You’re not being detained, but I would like to ask you a few questions.”

“Only if you let me ask you some first,” Schneep insisted. “How did you find me? What are you planning to do? Who is this other person?”

“My name’s Lydia,” the other woman said casually. “I’m her fiancée.”

“Ah. Okay. Then what are you doing here?”

“Helping. This was all her idea, but I thought I’d join in. And good thing I did, someone needed to bring the car around when you knocked yourself the fuck out just a street over from a police raid.”

“That is fair,” Schneep relented.

“Let me start with your first question,” Kikelomo said. “I know you follow a lot of the illicit activity in the city. So, I kept my ears open for any cases going on that you might be interested in. We got a tip that there were some negotiations going on between the Striped Snakes and Monte Blanca, and I thought you might be interested in that. Apparently it was a well-known fact in the underworld. So I just followed along with the investigation.” She paused. “Technically, I’m not supposed to be here,” she admitted.

Schneep took a moment to process this. “So...you were investigating, out on your own, with the possibility of getting in trouble for it...on the chance that you would run into me.”

“...yes,” Kikelomo mumbled.

“Hey, trust me Mr. Voltage Guy, this is the first time she’s done something like this,” Lydia said. She sounded rather upbeat about that fact, almost proud.

“But I knew I had to!” Kikelomo protested. “After you snuck into the records at the police station, it took me a while to realize I’d seen you before. Actually, Rya was the one who remembered. You’re a friend of Dr. Parker, aren’t you?” Schneep hesitated, not willing to answer. But that was enough. “I thought it was strange that you risked going into the station, but once I figured out you were friends with him—he disappeared, didn’t he? And so did his daughter and her friend? It’s an unusual set of circumstances, and since you like to take the law into your own hands, I figured you were trying to do something about it. Aren’t you?”

Schneep rolled his eyes, then winced as that caused a few more black spots to dance before his eyes. He really should get his head looked at soon. “You say that about taking the law into my own hands, but are you not doing the same thing, following me, tagging along on a case that wasn’t yours? Hmm?”

“I...” Kikelomo paused. “This is for my case. It’s my job to find out what happened to your friend and those kids, and if you can help—”

“Well I can’t,” Schneep interrupted.

Kikelomo blinked. “Look...I understand that you...have an operation...here. And I will admit, it does actually help in some circumstances, even if you break a thousand laws on the way. But clearly, whoever is behind this has skill. Not only have they managed to stay hidden this long, but I believe they somehow manipulated your friend’s and the kids’ memories, which is no small feat. In this case, the resources of the police are more qualified to handle this.”

At that, Schneep couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Kikelomo watched, shifting awkwardly in her seat and giving Lydia a few unsure glances. “Maybe I should...rephrase what I said,” Schneep finally said. “You cannot help me. You are not qualified for this. Trust me, I am barely qualified for this. And, quite frankly, you do not want to be involved. I often disagree with the saying ‘ignorance is bliss,’ but I think it applies in this situation.”

Kikelomo was unsure how to respond. She glanced at Lydia, who just shrugged and said, “Remember that note? It said something about the normal police not being able to handle this.”

“Even so, I can’t imagine a situation where you don’t want more hands on deck. Unless this is somehow...I don’t know, if the government is involved or if it’ll cause a scandal. But still, I’d think I’d pick up if this was something like that.”

“No, you wouldn’t. The people who want stuff like that under wraps are very good at keeping it that way.”

“Still.” Kikelomo glanced back over at Schneep, who said nothing. He didn’t care what she thought about this situation, as long as she left it alone. “We could provide protection for your friend—”

“No, you cannot,” Schneep said firmly. 

And Kikelomo fell silent again. Then she slowly turned around and started the car. “If we’re not taking you to the hospital, where are we going?”

“Drop me off on the corner of Underhill and Yew,” Schneep said, pulling his mask back on despite knowing it wouldn’t help anymore. “And please stop following me. You are just making me paranoid all the time.”

The car ride that followed was awkward and silent, but luckily, it was soon over, and Schneep stepped out of the car and onto a rainy street. He didn’t move until they were gone, and then he sighed. Well, that was bad. He didn’t want anyone knowing his identity, much less a detective and her girlfriend. But hopefully, they’d drop the matter, and he’d never run into them again.

———————

Unfortunately, those hopes were dashed two days later.

It was getting towards the end of his work shift, and Schneep was ready to leave. Not for any particular reason, he just didn’t have the energy. He’d considered taking the day off for medical purposes by calling in and telling his manager that he’d hit his head a couple days ago and had to stay home. Even if Jackie said that he’d be alright, that would still be reason enough. But he’d decided against it on the grounds that he’d already taken a few days off and risked losing his job if he did it again.

So here he was. Staring at the wall clock in the chance that it’ll go faster if he watched it. Then he heard the familiar sound of the front entrance opening and closing and Jennifer, his coworker, said, “Could you get that? I’m working on the order for the last guys.”

Sighing, he nodded, and headed out to the front counter. “Hello, welcome to Latte Lake, what can I—” Then he stopped. “You are fucking kidding me.”

The pair of customers who’d just walked in were none other than Detective Kikelomo and Lydia. Clearly off-duty, wearing casual street clothes and looking relaxed, but it was them nonetheless. And they looked just as surprised as he did. “Ohhh, that’s why the note said to come here,” Lydia muttered.

“The note—oh.” Schneep took a deep breath as he remembered the last line of the note Aoife had put in his suit. Something about the two of them going to a shop on Everett. The street where Latte Lake, the shop he worked at, was located. That should have rang a few bells when he read it, but there were a lot of shops on the street, and he’d had more pressing matters on his mind. “The next time I see that—that magician, I am going to kill her,” he muttered.

“Sounds like someone really wanted us to continue the conversation, if you ask me,” Kikelomo said, sounding a bit smug.

“Can we not do this now?” Schneep asked. “Do you know how much of a—how bad of an asshole you have to be to do something like this while someone is at work, and cannot leave? An awful one. No. Stop this.”

“Ah...well, sorry,” Kikelomo muttered. “But we didn’t come here intending to do that. We just wanted to check out the cute little cafe.” She paused. “Alright, this is the last thing I’ll say. Are you sure you don’t need our help? I mean, we’re professionals and you’re...well, you’re very good, but it’s different.”

Schneep rubbed his eyes. “Look. I do not say this because I hate you, or any of the pol—the people you work with. I say this because you literally cannot help. You cannot catch Dis—the person behind this. You cannot do anything to him. Anything you can think of will not work. We are...are just...surviving. Avoiding him. We are working on stopping him, but so far, we cannot. And you will not be any better at it. I promise you.”

Kikelomo thought about this. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“I—” Schneep choked. Even letting that slip was too much. “No. Don’t. I am asking you politely, stop talking about this. I can go in the back and just stay there, I am only talking to you out of courtesy. Just...stop. Give it up.”

Lydia nudged Kikelomo. “Hey Rachel? Maybe drop it for now.”

And Kikelomo sighed. “Alright. I’ll drop it for now. But this isn’t over, I can promise you that. I’m a detective. I will figure out what’s going on.”

“And when you do, you will see how right I am,” Schneep said stubbornly. “Now if you will excuse me.” He turned around and called out, “Jennifer? Are you okay with switching?”

“Yeah, sure, Henrik,” Jennifer replied, not noticing the way Schneep winced as she said his name out loud in front of the detective. Silently, he switched places with her, and things went back to normal as Kikelomo and Lydia placed orders, sat down to wait, and then eventually left the shop once their orders were ready.

His shift ended soon after that, and he practically ran out of the door and down towards the bus stop. As he waited for the bus to arrive, he wondered. Should he have told them the truth? It may have been unbelievable, with magicians and a man out of time and a strange gray smiling creature tormenting them all. But maybe he could have convinced them?

No. No, it was just too unbelievable. And he didn’t want to be judged for it, especially when the person doing the judging had the power to do something about it. His situation was just too precarious, being a vigilante in a city where that was illegal. He couldn’t risk a detective having a low opinion of him.

Still, he was sure that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see Detective Kikelomo. If she was so determined to figure out what was going on...maybe she’d be able to find the truth. And when that happened, Schneep would be happy to accept whatever help she offered. But he wasn’t going to be the one making the first move. He simply couldn’t afford to.

[mybiasisexo]

Masks 🚧

anon asks: Can I request Exo Kai with 31 and 34? Thank you :))

a/n: this takes place in the Vice & Virtue universe~🙃

DRABBLE GAME | MASTERLIST

gif credit

Partying was not a good coping mechanism, this you knew all too well.

It was those bad decisions that had you in the predicament you were in now. Being walked home by Kai, one of the city’s rising heroes. Your clothes were falling off your body and black streaks dampened your ashen cheeks. You tried to muffle your sniffles the best you could, but knew he could hear them all the same.

He had just saved you from some creep who had dragged you out of the bar you had been losing yourself in, seeing an opportunity to take advantage of you. Luckily, Kai had intervened before it could escalate.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time Kai had come to your rescue.

Wasn’t the second either.

You internally winced as you watched his broad back ahead of you, you had no idea where he was leading you, but followed nonetheless, trusting him regardless of the fact you had no idea of his identity.

“Where are we going?” You finally gave in and asked after moments of silence. He stopped at your words and abruptly turned around to face you, startling you to a stop as well.

“How many times are you going to get yourself in these situations?” He countered, lifting a questioning eyebrow.

You swallowed thickly and turned your head away, rubbing your arms. It hadn't necessarily sounded as though he were angry, simply asking, but you felt chastised all the same.

He sighed at your lack of communication before he took a deep breath and opened his mouth, only to close it immediately, lips thinning hesitantly. He tried again.

“Not to pry, but… you seem like a hazard to yourself.”

“So, I’ve been told,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. His eyes bounced between your own before he sighed again, continuing down the sidewalk.

When he brought you to another stop, you noticed that you were at a bus stop.

“I would walk you home, but….” His voice carried in regret.

“There’s other ways for you to get me there,” you hinted.

“It doesn’t quite work that way,” he clarified with a shake of his head.

“Well,” you shrugged. “Duty calls.”

“That it does….” Despite your dismissal, he lingered, not wanting to leave you.

You were sure it had everything to do with how pathetic you were at the moment, how trouble seemed to follow you like a bad smell, and you couldn’t help but to think he was pitying you.

How revolting.

You may be a hazard to yourself, as he mentioned, but it was self-inflicted. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel sorry for you, especially some rando pretending to play superhero to fulfill some strange fetish of his.

But also, maybe deep down, you also weren’t ready for him to leave.

He finally turned to leave and, in your most toxic of traits, you embodied your blasé attitude and spanked him.

He paused and slowly, almost painstakingly, he shifted so he could throw you an incredulous stare.

“Did you just slap my butt?”

You merely shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a tight ass.”

That brought out a shocked laugh and the sound sent shivers down your frame. He gradually, almost menacingly, walked back to you. Each step purposeful, until he was a breath away. His tan hair that fell over his dark eyes brushed against your forehead, the brief connection raised goosebumps over your body.

It was odd—his face.

He only wore a brown ask that covered his eyes, reminding you of Robin from the cheesy nineties’ superhero film. You remember how, while thinking of these fictional characters, you would scoff at the cluelessness of pedestrians of the hero’s identity when all that hid their face was a pair of glasses of fabric across the eyes, yet here you were, trying to decipher the identity of the man before you despite ninety percent of his glorious face being exposed to you. Not going to lie, it drove you crazy. Since the first time he came to your rescue, the mystery surrounding who he was haunted you.

It had to do something with his power. Even as you tried to focus on his eyes, his head moved sharply at a pace you couldn’t quite comprehend, as though it were vibrating.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked suddenly, voice full of concern. Color you impressed. Through the few encounters had with him, he was able to read you well enough to see though your defenses.

No. You most definitely were not alright.

But you refused to allow him to see your weaknesses.

Needing to change the subject, you blurted blindly, “take that off.”

You nudged your chin towards his mask.

He knew exactly what you were referring to and smiled wickedly.

“Maybe next time,” he relented. “Since I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I’ll be seeing you.”

You merely hummed in response, mind busy with the idea of ripping the fabric off yourself.

Silence fell, the both of you losing yourself in the other’s gaze. The longer you held it, breathing in his breath, the more charged the air became. Your chest heaved, heart pounding as Kai’s parted baby pink lips grew closer to your own.

Kai placed a hand on your chin, gently tilted your head back for better access, which you allowed. Eyes fluttered closed, anticipating the softness of his lips, but instead, a quick burst of air threw your hair back.

As you reopened your eyes, you were met with a bus pulling to a stop before you, doors swung open to allow you inside. Quickly, you climbed the stairs and sat in an empty row, leaning against the cool window, digesting everything that just happened.

Kai had obviously used his power of teleportation to leave you in time to escape the bus. You shook your head, chuckling to yourself as you realized how close you were to kissing the masked vigilante and how he escaped before you could.

You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, but knew that you wouldn’t be able to get him out of your thoughts until you saw him again.

[abaikgirl]

7 FOR VILLAIN NIGHTEYE AAAA

Send me a number and a ship for a Friendly Fighting drabble

Ok this one kind of got away from me and I think it’s probably going to be the official sequel to “Lovers at Sunrise, Enemies at Nightfall”, so thank you so much for sending the prompt!

------------------------------------

The relationship between Toshinori and Mirai had been complicated for a while. With one of them devoting their life to saving people through vigilante heroics and the other convinced killing was far more effective, it was inevitable that they would implode. 

At first the arguments weren't so bad. Sure, Toshinori was naive and idealistic and Mirai was stubborn and cynical and they would shout and argue for hours, but the make up sex was amazing enough that even those disagreements seemed worth it.

After several months of this, the rosy haze of the new relationship wore off and the arguments had stopped being foreplay and just became arguments. 

It was unclear who was the most foolish that night; Toshinori for asking what Mirai intended to do to his latest target or Mirai for telling him.

"You don't have any right to act as judge, jury, and executioner," Toshinori said.

"Well all three of those have failed this woman, but if you want me to sit back and let her husband beat her to death, I'll be more than happy to comply."

"That's not what I mean. You could report him or arrest him or hell, just scare him a bit."

"All of those routes have been exhausted, Toshi. How do you think I even knew about the case?" 

They were in Toshinori’s apartment and the remnants of their dinner were growing cold on the table. Mirai pushed the food around his plate, anxious to have something else to focus on rather than his rising frustration. 

"I can't let you keep going out there and killing people just because you've decided that's what they deserve. There are laws for a reason."

Mirai scoffed. "Laws? Really? The ones you break every day with your vigilante escapades? Or the ones that ruled a quirkless could never be a hero? Are those the just and fair rules you're referring to?"

Toshinori’s cheeks were red with rage and embarrassment. Mirai knew he would regret the low blow of bringing up his quirklessness and lost dreams, but in the moment he didn’t care.

"You know what I mean," Toshinori began.

"Yes I do. You mean your idealistic bullshit that dictates that if we just believe in people they'll do the right thing." He stood slamming his hands on the table. "Well wake up Toshinori, and stop acting like the people you save wouldn’t turn on you the second they learned of your quirk status--"

"Get out!" Toshinori shouted, standing up so fast he almost knocked the table over. The sound of it scraping on the floor was enough to make Mirai recoil from him. "Out, now!”

So, Mirai had left and for a few weeks they didn't speak to each other. Mirai knew he had crossed a line bringing up his quirk status and Toshinori knew he shouldn’t have yelled at him, but neither of them broke the silence.

Nightfall had been steering clear of the areas All Might patrolled, trying to avoid running into his probably-ex-boyfriend while he was working. Tonight however he found himself on top of an apartment building right around the area All Might was usually patrolling. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was lonely. He was tired waking up in the night and reaching for Toshinori only to find empty sheets and even if it was from afar, he wanted to see him again. 

It didn’t take long for All Might to appear. His apprentice Midoriya trailed after him, the little tails on the top of his mask waving in the wind. The mask was clearly meant to imitate the way All Might styled his bangs up into a V, but it only made him look like an enthusiastic bunny. 

Midoriya knew they were fighting. He had even gone as far as showing up at Mirai’s apartment, determined to talk him into resolving. Usually, Mirai enjoyed Midoriya’s company. Occasionally, when he was rambling on about his quirk analysis or recounting one of Toshinori’s many heroic acts, Mirai would muse that if he had Toshinori were able to have a child, he would probably be like Midoriya. He was idealistic, quirkless, and noble like Toshinori, but with Mirai’s green hair and sharp eye for detail.

The day that he had turned up on Mirai’s doorstep, he had felt a rush of sadness at the sight of him. He had missed him, even if it had only been a few weeks. His pride made him force the emotion down and cover it with a cold glare. 

Midoriya had stammered and stuttered his way through what was clearly a pre-prepared statement, telling Mirai that he and All Might missed him and he knew they disagreed on a lot of things but relationships were about compromise and if Mirai would just talk to All Might he was sure that everything would work out. 

Mirai had waited for him to finish before declaring he’d had enough of quirkless vigilantes to last a lifetime and slammed the door. 

Watching Midoriya bound after All Might like an eager bunny made Nightfall feel guilty for being so harsh with him. Maybe he could make it up to him somehow when he and All Might resolved. 

If they resolved. 

Down on the street, All Might was oblivious of Nightfall’s watchful eye and continued his patrol. Midoriya stayed close, scribbling in his notebook as they walked. They had stopped a purse snatcher a few blocks back with a highly unusual mutation quirk and Midoriya was rushing to document it. He was so absorbed in his writing, All Might had to steer him to the right to keep him from walking into a trashcan. 

“Make sure you’re paying attention to your surroundings,” he chided him. 

“Right! Sorry All Might,” Midoriya replied. 

There was an explosion and they both jumped, looking towards the smoking building. “Let’s go!” 

All Might and Midoriya ran towards the explosion. All Might didn’t have a quirk, but even with his average strength, he was able to move the rubble aside, clearing a path inside. Midoriya squeezed through first, his small stature making him perfect for getting in without disturbing the rubble. 

“Look for survivors,” All Might ordered. “And be careful moving anyone that looks like they might be in shock!”

“I’m on it.” 

All Might moved another large slab of concrete to make room for him to be able to get in as well. Just as he put it down, someone punched him in the face. All Might stumbled, tasting blood. He looked up and saw a man with a shaved head glaring at him. 

“You stay out of this,” he barked. “These people deserve to die.”

All Might grabbed him, throwing him into the remaining wall. The man swung at him, making All Might back away. 

“All Might!”

The struggling men paused and turned to see Midoriya. He stood there with a woman leaning against him, her face bloody. 

“Get out of here,” All Might yelled.

The man growled and put his hand to the wall. There was a slight glow from his palm and then it exploded.

The dust was still settling when All Might regained his bearings. He cast around. “Midoriya?” he called. “Midoriya! Where are you?”

There was a weak cough and he saw a tuft of green hair peeking out from the rubble. Running to him, he started to frantically dig him out. He whined in pain. “All...Might?”

“I’m here. It’s going to be ok. Just stay awake.”

“The lady...is she alright?”

Toshinori wanted to laugh and sob at the same time. Of course Midoriya was worried about everyone except himself. He cast around and saw the woman lying on the ground not too far from them. Midoriya must have thrown her out of the way before the building fell on them. 

“She’s fine, thanks to you.”

“Not for long.” 

All Might looked up and saw the man standing over them. He extended his palm towards All Might, that faint glow lighting up his palm again. “I’ll kill you both and then her.”

There was a flash of metal and his hand was cut off with one swipe. Screaming in pain he turned around to face his new attacker. 

Nightfall scowled behind his helmet. “Takahiro Tanimoto, quirk Explosion Touch. You were evicted from this apartment three months ago, I believe?” Nightfall had seen the eviction and harassment reports at work. He never forgot a face, especially not when the person wearing that face was attempting to kill two of the most important people in his life.

He raised his katana, the blade still dripping with Tanimoto’s blood. “You stay away from them or you’re going to lose more than your hand.”

Tanimoto grabbed at him with his remaining hand and Nightfall easily dodged. While they fought, All Might continued to dig Midoriya out. He was limp in his arms, blood splattered across his face. 

Head wounds bleed more than other cuts, he told himself. He’ll probably be fine. I just need to get him out of here.

He picked up him and the woman, carrying them towards the street. The wail of an ambulance could be heard in the distance. 

Seeing his prey getting away, Tanimoto kicked Nightfall in the gut and ran after them. Nightfall had been trying to avoid killing him, but seeing him lunge for All Might and Midoriya, he threw that precaution out the window. 

He stabbed him through his back, slicing right through his heart.

“I warned you,” Nightfall growled, watching Tanimoto crumple to the ground with a twinge of satisfaction. 

The moment Nightfall heard the explosion he called an ambulance. Thanks to his recaution, one arrived on scene before Tanimoto’s blood had even cooled. 

All Might hovered at the edge of the scene, trying to get in the ambulance with Midoriya when they loaded him up. “I’m sorry, sir,” the paramedic said. “Family only.”

“But he’s...of course.”

They told him which hospital he would be at and sped off. All Might felt his knees go weak as he watched the lights fade. Would he be alright? This was all his fault. If he died because of his carelessness…

His legs gave out and strong arms wrapped around him, holding him steady. “Don’t go passing out on me, Toshi.”

He turned and saw Mirai looking up at him. He’d discarded his helmet and katana, stashing them behind a dumpster before the authorities arrived to avoid suspicion. His green hair was ruffled and a few strands of it clung to the sweat on his forehead. 

Toshinori had never been so happy to see him. His eyes stung with tears and he struggled to find his voice. Mirai didn’t wait for a response. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

He leaned against Mirai while he retrieved his weapon and helmet and they walked back to Toshinori’s apartment together. He collapsed on the couch as soon as they entered. 

Mirai remained standing. “I’m sure he’ll be alright,” he said at last. 

His words broke the emotional dam Toshinori had built up and he began to cry. “He was only there because he’s trying to be like me. He’s so strong and kind and he should have never been there in the first place. What if he doesn’t...what if he…”

His words failed him and he sobbed helplessly into his hands. 

It was startling to see him like this. In all their time together, Mirai had never seen him break down. Toshinori was always strong, always smiling, no matter how bad things got. 

Mirai pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into Toshinori’s hands. 

“Look, I know things are… complicated between us right now, but I really don’t want to leave you crying alone. Do you want me to sit with you?”

Toshinori sniffed. “…. Please.”

Mirai sat next to him, looping his long arm around Toshinori’s broad shoulders. His large body shook as he cried, Mirai’s handkerchief quickly becoming soaked with tears and snot. Mirai rested his head on Toshinori’s shoulder, listening to his choked crying for a long moment. 

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Mirai said at last. “Midoriya is the kind of boy that would have been running into danger with or without your influence. He was lucky you were there today.”

Toshinori blew his nose with a loud honk. “We were both lucky you were there too.” He reached for Mirai’s other hand that was resting on his thigh. 

Mirai relaxed into him, breathing in his familiar scent. “Tanimoto wasn’t.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Aren’t you mad that I killed him?”

“It was self defense. He would have killed all three of us if you hadn’t stopped him.”

“Probably.” He rubbed Toshinori’s back, his hand tracing firm, comforting circles into his skin. “I’m sure Midoriya will be alright. His injuries didn’t look fatal. You can trust me on that, since I am an expert on fatal injuries.”

His joke drew a laugh out of Toshinori. “Right, I guess you are.” He lifted their intertwined hands and kissed his palm. “Sorry for throwing you out.”

“I deserved it.”

“I mean it…”

“So do I. I shouldn’t have said those things.” He pulled his hand from Toshinori’s grip to wipe the last of his tears. Toshinori leaned into his hand. He’d missed his touch, his soothing voice in his ear to ease him to sleep. 

“You should get some rest,” Mirai said. “Visiting hours aren’t for another few hours.”

He stood and Toshinori grabbed his sleeve. “Stay?”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You won’t. Stay and come with me to see Midoriya tomorrow.” He gave him a tearful smile. “Someone needs to protect me from his mother. She’s going to kill me when she finds out I was involved.”

Mirai felt warmth bloom in his chest. “Alright. I’ll stay. After all, I need to apologize to Midoriya.”

“For what?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

[iwritethat]

Tim Drake: All Hallows’ Night

A/N: I’ve been waiting all year for this and love the Halloween story ideas and I hope you all do too.

🎃: Tim encounters a ghostly presence in the manner but it turns out you’re more than the folktales let on.

>>>>—————————>

Once upon a time, there was a mysterious ancient house. It was in the rumours, the city speculations and old wives tales that ghosts thrived in Wayne Manor. Of course, all that once lived there or continued to do so were no stranger to these mysteries although the current residents thought nothing of such folk lores as they had no proof to suggest otherwise and thus paid no attention to unusual tendencies.

That was at least until Timothy Drake had one eventful Halloween, one he would not soon forget. At first the odd occurrences weren't given a second thought, objects falling from shelves and peculiar echoes in the hallways were all a normal day to Tim, the single soul in the Manor at the time. That is until he returned to the Bat Computer, scrolling through the research he'd compiled linking to the newest case of underground dealings.

"Definitely a mobster, I'm thinking Penguin to be honest."

"Yes, it certainly matches his usual pattern." The vigilante replied without hesitation to whomever had commented on his case file despite being alone in the Manor that night.

"..."

"..."

It was an eery silence, one like no other, despite his focused state, Red Robin had realised the impossibility of having an unfamiliar voice answer the silence.

"Who the flip?!”

With his delayed startling, the stranger laughed, Tim scrambling to his feet only to find an unusual presence perched on the desk of the computer next to where he once sat.

"You're Tim Drake right?" Of course, the male was too bewildered to answer the unwelcome intruder, simply nodding whilst pointing his bo staff.

"I'm (Y/n) (L/n) by the way, thanks for asking."

"How did you get in here? The security systems are top of the range, they would've informed me of your access." He was astounded, tilting his head out of curiosity yet retained the offensive stance.

"Guess they're on the brink huh? No need to worry though mate, I mean you no harm~" The (h/c) beauty grinned with a wicked smile, offering out a hand for Tim to shake. The hero smiled in response, though still wary, met theirs in greeting - however instantly backed away upon doing so, their hands never met, instead his passed straight through (Y/n)'s own.

"Well then, I suppose you have your answer about security now." The entity smiled, hopping off of the counter and strolling towards him.

"What on earth are you?"

"Hmm, technically at this point in time I'm a ghost, wandering spirit? Although phantom has more finesse to it, wouldn't you agree?" The intruder brought a hand to their chin in thought before directing a smile toward him.

"I um, what?" Tim stared in confusion, closing his eyes as a break from the newest shreds of weird information.

"Oh no, you know what? Spectre has a nice ring to it too."

"No, I mean... wait, does that mean the stories are true? Wayne Manor is haunted? By you?" Tim was full of questions, just as expected by this latest phenomenon.

"For tonight it is, and for the unforeseeable future I'm afraid. Don't get me wrong, I had the full intention of keeping to myself but it's incredibly boring and this case seemed like a viable distraction." Was carefully explained, gesturing to the computer with a mischievous glint to their eyes much to Tim's fascination.

"Okay. Alright. Sure. For the sake of my sanity I'm not going to argue with a ghost... (Y/n)." Tim shook his head, once again sitting at his computer.

"Ah you're my favourite Robin already." Came the hearty response, the entity leaning on the back of Tim's chair as he scrolled through. They bounced ideas off of each other, methodology, motive, the next areas to strike and soon enough Tim was clad in his uniform readying to disappear into the night. The unlikely pair walked together towards the exit, planning a strategy on dealing with the Penguin and had the intent to carry it out - until Tim walked through the exit and the spirit clashed with an invincible force, curses spewing from their lips.

Red Robin was once again beside them, opting to offer physical comfort before he phased past them and had to settle for verbal inquiries.

"What happened? Is it some sort of barrier?"

"Damnit Constantine, tethering me to Wayne Manor of all places. Dumbass sorcerer..." It was only faint frustrated mutterings but explained your situation rather adequately.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I haven't been completely honest with you, but in my defence you didn't ask. I'm verging between the spirit and living world and I'm relying on John bloody Constantine to pull me back from this purgatory. And since it's Halloween I'm guessing my spirit can manifest." The entity gave an exasperated sigh, rolling their eyes at the mention of their comrade.

"That's a lot to take in (Y/n), wheres Constantine now? I can go and lend my assistance, maybe I can -"

"No Tim, you have to help Gotham. You've known me no more than a couple of hours, you have more important matters to deal with." Despite their previous remarks it was obvious they had trust in Hellblazer and didn’t wish for their circumstance to interfere with Robins’ duties.

"Maybe so, but I'd like to think a couple of hours is enough to say you’re not so bad. I can't help but wonder what it'd be like meeting you in person." Tim wittily replied, raising a brow in their direction.

"Maybe one day, until then I'll stick to haunting."

"Hey RR, who are you talking to?" Dick Graysons voice rebounded off of the walls to the cave, Tim directing his gesture to his latest accomplice only to catch a glimpse of static where they'd once stood.

"Uh- no one..."

"Hah, for a second there I thought you were going to say a ghost. Anyway, I got an update on that case of yours."

-

(Y/n)'s presence lingered for a while after Halloween although it was not as strong as then, but there were the little quirks that Tim noticed around the Manor.

'Nice job solving the case detective~'

Was written on the dusty surface of the attic during one of his ventures, foggy windows also held innocent scrawling of which Tim happily replied to whether out loud or with his own scribbles.

Then there was the peculiar static on his TV if he ever watched it between 00:00-1:00am, one he'd grown to value.

"Hey Timbers.”

"Ah you're back, and still haunting the place I see." The male looked up from his laptop, crossing his legs and smiled at the TV.

"Yeah well Constantine is apparently taking his sweet time." The image of the spectre was slightly blurred and flicked every so often but remained viewable.

"He told me what you did to end up here y'know." He’d referred to the call he’d made a few days ago inquiring about the odd circumstance and if he could assist.

"He's lying." It was a confident and quick reply, (Y/n) unwilling to discuss such matters.

"About sacrificing yourself to bring them all back from Hell? Despite not being in the vigilante game?" Red Robin elaborated further, knowing a majority of the details beforehand.

"Yup, so hard to believe it must be a lie."

"Why did you-"

"Because they're my friends, they helped me out and I took on some damn demon curse to save them. Anyway, who are we looking into tonight partner?" With a brief smile, Tim flipped the computer screen in their direction as a visual response.

Tim also took to using the radio frequently whenever he was alone, making it easier for the  invisible resident to communicate with him.

"I miss food so much, it's rude of you to constantly eat in front of me you know."

"True but take out is just so amazing, I wanted to share the experience." He was being incredibly dramatic purely to get on his friends nerves though his playful side was rather endearing.

"I hate you right now." The guest replied, the radio crackling as a physical display of their words.

"Alright, alright, when you're back to normal I'm taking you out to dinner on me." Boy wonder instantly caved, but was truly sincere about his statement.

"Are you sure you can spare enough time to do that detective? Won't Gotham crumble without you?" The spectres sarcasm was heard even through the radio, and if he could see their expression Tim would bet they wore a smirk.

"I'll always take time out for you like I do now, but you have a point - I guess we'll have to take down some crime rings before dessert." It was accompanied by a shrug yet (Y/n) was grateful for his words none the less.

"Dinner and a show, I like it."

-

However it wasn't long before these daily instances Tim looked so forward to seemed nonexistent, the TV displayed the news without any interference, windows remained untouched of meaningful notes and the radio soon lost its appeal. Constantine was unreachable leaving Tim with no inclination as to what happened to the illusive guest and it seemed his family members noticed the sudden deterioration of his mood but chose not to pry quite yet.

It had been a week or two by his count, and he was currently packing for Titans Tower, shifting through his belongings and paperwork.

"Hey stranger, whatcha doing?" The voice held addictive familiarity, clearer to what it had been before, and due to this Tim answered like nothing had changed.

"I'm moving to Titans Tower, the Team thought it’d help our teamwork and I honestly can't wait."

"Hmm, when do you leave?" Their lovely tone held a hint of disappointment but was masked well for anyone but a detective.

"I'm aiming for this weekend, but don't worry I'll come back as often as I can to see you." He took a brief glance to the standing figure, lifting a box and walking straight through like he usually did purely to mess with them.

However, he hit a solid surface, the giggle following his actions causing him to almost drop his belongings but fortunaly the previously thought-to-be ghost stabled it with ease.

"Cool, I'll be able to visit you as well. But do you think you've got time for that dinner first? I'm starving after actually bypassing Manor security and climbing through your window." His realisation bringing a smug grin to (Y/n)’s lips as they finished.

“I- you- you’re back?”

“Yep, in the flesh although there’s some nice side effects... Nothing major though.”

“C’mon you’re telling me everything, the Manor is free tonight so how about take out and a movie?”

“Lead the way detective.”

Tim did so, however as the pair passed a hallway the former ghost halted before a beautiful oil painting and gently straightened the frame then turning to the questioning expression of Drake.

“Oh, it’s a half a centimetre off balance and it’s been winding up the ghost of the Manor for years. I promised to fix it once I returned.” (Y/n) nonchalantly explained, smirking as she passed an awestruck vigilante.

“...Ghost?”

“Who do you think told me about all your identities? Also, according to my recent conversation with the ghost, apparently you missed me Timbers~”

“Of course I did but how do you know that?!”

“Side effects, but don’t worry I missed you too.”

(Y/n) remained cursed for the rest of her mortal life, to become a spectre as the clock strikes, marking the Witching Hour for every Hallows' Eve to come until the festival was up.

~~~

"The End." You dramatically finished, accompanied by a spooky hand gesture for emphasis as you enjoyed the warm glow of the campfire.

The fellow hero's seated on surrounding logs remained silent for a few moments before cheering, thoroughly enthralled in the tale you bestowed upon them as per tradition of Halloween night.

"That's one hell of a story (Y/n), and basing the characters off of yourself and Tim was genius!" Cassie complimented, standing up with sheer delight as you smiled.

"Way to put a twist on a classic horror story telling, never would've thought of something like that." Conner nodded in approval, proudly smirking at the exchange of smiles between yourself and your boyfriend.

Tim sat beside you, nudging your shoulder out of the playful knowing you both shared and of course what came with the success of your tale. The chime of the cities bell tower echoed in the distance and with it you stood before your fellow hero's who had no intention of sleeping quite yet and wished them a good night. Tim followed your lead, gently brushing his fingers with yours as you strolled back to your room for the evening as the Team watched you both disappear into the eery night exchanging playful remarks.

But... if they had just looked a little closer....

Taken more notice...

Maybe they would have caught how Tim's digits effortlessly phased through your own as the witching hour had begun...

[short-yandere-stories]

Can I ask for yandere Bruce Wayne x fellow superhero/vigilante!reader? Thank you in advance, I love your writing 💖

Aww thank you so much! That makes me so happy to hear.

Content Warnings: yandere behavior, knocked unconscious, kidnapping, noncon change of clothing

This is a yandere work. Proceed with caution and please be mindful of your triggers.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

“Another job well done!” The girl cheers and falls back against the brick wall on top of the building she was currently on. Taking down villains and wrong-doers was hard work, but it was very rewarding. By the people in the city, she was referred to as The Moth, which in all honesty wasn’t that flattering. A newspaper had written that the reason for the nickname was how she’s “drawn to crime like a moth drawn to a light.”

So she’d decided to keep it. She eases herself down onto the ground and removes her gloves with two quick moves, flexing her fingers. Yeah, she might not have any superpowers, but she does what she can to help. There is nothing The Moth is afraid of.

Well, maybe one thing.

For the past few weeks, the other superhero in Gotham – Batman – had started to appear after every crime she solved and talked to her. He had been an okay company at the start, offering her helpful advice and giving her tips of where villains would probably hit within the next few days. Now, though, he was starting to creep her out.

His behavior wasn’t outright creepy, but the way he held himself and talked to her absolutely was. Batman always somehow managed to look like he was a split second away from attacking her or something like that. But the girl couldn’t just ask the most popular superhero in Gotham to stay away from her.

Speak of the devil… There he is. Batman is standing by the edge of the building a few meters away, cape fluttering in the cold nightly breeze traveling over the rooftops.

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts without turning around. “The streets are becoming more dangerous. I’ve heard people whisper about an upcoming breakout from the prison, and Gotham won’t be safe for you then.” He turns around and walks over to the girl, picking up and handing her gloves back to her.

“How about you come and stay with me for a while, just until this blows over?” His tone is kind and visible smile inviting, but his body language tells the girl that something is off.

She stands up and shakes her head, refusing the gloves. “Thanks, but I’m fine. A protector of the city can’t hide away when there is a risk of crime. Imagine what people would think.” She laughs and walks past Batman as quickly as she can, but his hand grabs a hold of her arm and yanks her back. Now, she is really starting to get scared. He was a much stronger hero than her despite not having any powers either.

“Let go.” She tries to sound as authoritative as she can, but she can’t stop her voice from cracking towards the end. Batman’s grip tightens around her bicep until she winces from the pain.

“I don’t think so.” She hardly feels the blow before she blacks out.

✧✧✧ 

When her eyes open again, the light from the lamp in the roof swims and dances before her eyes, and she groans. She blinks a few times, and then the light finally remains in one position. Her eyes quickly scan the unfamiliar area while her mind reels, trying to remember what had happened.

The room is richly and modernly decorated, and she’s in a king size bed. There’s a TV and all sorts of luxuries. Then, she realizes that she’s wearing a plain white man’s shirt.

Where did my suit go? She asks herself, and a hand instinctively trails up to her face. Fuck. The mask is missing too. Then, the pieces of the puzzle align themselves and fall into place. Batman knocked her out yesterday. He must have brought her here. She shudders. Did he undress and re-dress me too? Through the shirt, she still feels the same bra she wore last night, so he didn’t see her naked at least.

“Shit! He knows my identity!” Quickly, the girl kicks off the covers and stumbles out of bed, heading for the door. It doesn’t budge when she tries the handle.

“Yes I do,” a voice responds. The girl whirls around and sees none other than the billionaire Bruce Wayne standing on the balcony with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“What?” she manages to get out, grabbing a fistful of the material of the shirt. Bruce walks back in and taps a few times on an electronic device next to the door. Thin, but strong-looking metal panels fall down over all the windows and the glass door. The lamp in the ceiling shines brighter to compensate for the darkness.

“Y-you’re Batman,” The girl gasps and pushes her back against the door, not knowing how to react. Bruce grins and sets the cup down on the bedside table.

“That’s true. And you are The Moth.” The girl’s first instinct is to shake her head, but she knows that pretending that it isn’t true won’t do her any good. Slowly, she nods, remaining as still as possible.

Bruce walks over to her, carefree and with his hands in his pockets. “Why did you refuse my offer?” he asks, tilting his head curiously. The only thing the girl can think about is how close he is getting, and she doesn’t answer.

One of Bruce’s hands lands on her cheek tenderly, and she can feel her entire body tense. “Quiet, eh? We’ll have to change that.”

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

[speedycubed]

general

neither jesse or thea really wanted to get pregnant since they had put so much stress on their bodies when doing hero stuff. this lead to a long conversation between the three of them that lead to the decision to adopt.

for the most part, they tried to adopt teenagers as they are the least likely to be adopted. and for them, the four cuties they ended up with are just as much family as they would be if they had been fully raised by the three parents.

wally, jesse, & thea settled down in coast city on earth one after retirement & so that’s where all of the kids live & operate out of for their hero business.

the kids are all from different earths & were all adopted under their parents’ three different marriage’s on other earths. but it doesn’t make them any less of siblings as they all love each other despite their different backgrounds.

the four kids (well–really three as angelika doesn’t join in on their heroing) call themselves “team wings” as a reference to the bedtime story their parents would tell them–the legend of icarus. that & they didn’t really fit into any of the already established teams.

angelika krystal westwells

currently 23, born july 2020

from earth two

not the most cynical of the kids, but definitely a close second (the most cynical is definitely sam)

loves baking

really, angelika’s the only one to not have changed her name to a nickname or throw a fit about it because she actually really the name angelika

the only one of the kids to not know what her last name was before adoption since she was so young when she got put into the system

despite being the oldest, angelika hates being in charge. when left home to take care of her siblings, she’ll just shrug & let them do whatever they want

this was a bad idea in jason-dean’s younger years, but that’s another story

martian who was launched to earth at three earth-years old as her birth parents couldn’t take care of her anymore

angelika is scared of her powers after they’re surge at age fifteen & doesn’t do the hero stuff because of it

she was adopted by speedy^3 under wally & jesse’s earth two marriage at age fifteen, just two months after her power surge & then she moved to earth one

is the only one of her siblings to not live in coast city as she currently goes to school at new york university, but still comes home whenever she has a break

she’s a hard worker, it’s just that she’s not really ready to give it her all in most activities in case her powers surge again

samantha “sam” morgana griffin queen-west

currently 21, born september 2022

adopted through thea & wally’s marriage

goes by sam as “samantha is a bitch name. people named samantha are always bitches.”

sam’s just a normal human

but she’s not defenseless & she did join the hero business

took up the moniker “morgan le fay” as both a nod to her middle name & as a way to tell people that her specialized equipment ( freeze rays, heat guns, flash bullets, shots that can give powers temporarily, exploding boomerangs, etc ) are almost like magic

also she just really liked the stories of king arthur

oldest of her siblings to actually do the crime-fighting which makes her the leader ( not that her siblings will say that she’s the leader )

she hates covering for jason-dean when he takes off during heroing

“just because you have powers and we don’t doesn’t mean that you’re invincible! i won’t always be there to cover for you & jon won’t always be able to fix you up when we get back to base.”

takes more after thea in almost all aspects of heroing ( much more combat-oriented and always keeps what she’s thinking under wraps ), but is more like wally in personality ( a never ending jokester who knows when to get serious )

citizen of scotland of earth two. her accent is very thick & scottish. she says it’s not her fault no one can understand her

“i tell ya–ya fuckers can’ tell wot i’m sayin’ ’n’ i don’ understan’ it!”

jonathan “jon” quincy mclouglin queen-west

currently 18, born march 2025

originally from earth six

puffball

jon was a speedster at one point after being experimented on as people tried to find a way to create their own flash. he was successful, but it turned out that the artificial speed was damaging his muscular system, so he gave traveled to earth two & used some of his doppelganger’s blood ( with their permission, of course, jon’s not a monster ) to cure himself & thus getting rid of his speed

he then decided to live on an earth where he didn’t exist ( earth one ) so he couldn’t be caught and experimented on again

at this point, he was sixteen

he found his way to star city as the vigilante “rubik.” he specialized in swordplay & combat

when the now retired thea queen aka speedy found out that the one taking care of her city was just a kid, she took him under her wing, which lead to an adoption under wally & thea’s earth one marriage

nowadays, his rubrik persona is mainly limited to filling in the role of team wings’ puzzle solver & resident tech man

he’s extremely unmotivated to do anything that enjoy, which is why he got such bad grades in school & then dropped out

his parents were crushed, but they understood why

jason-dean norman zeilsdorf wells-queen

currently 15, born december 2028

from earth thirty-eight

amab demiboy, he / him pronouns

he changed his name when he first entered middle school naming himself after j.d. from heathers. he just liked the name & the musical was his favorite to ever come off broadway on his earth. the name norman came from the grandfather who had raised him before being adopted.

“most other nonbinary people changed their names & i’m changing my last name, so why not change all of it!”

jason-dean norman often has his name said in full. “it’s jason-dean norman, not just jason-dean,” he would say. he also hates being called j.d.

yeah… he’s a bit of a snob when it comes to his name

was affected by the particle accelerator explosion on a trip to central city & can now manipulate the vibrations of matter. this allows him to bend things easily, phase through things, cause other things to phase, turn things between states of matter, etc

goes by “subcinctus” ( shift in latin ) under the mask

when operating as subcinctus, jason-dean norman tends to run into things without a plan. his older siblings always have to cover his dumb ass during these moments which happen all the time

he likes explaining things, so never ask him why. his siblings learned that the hard way after asking why he always wore a beat up pair of aviators

jason-dean norman was adopted at age thirteen through jesse & thea’s earth thirty-eight marriage before moving to earth one

[kokomatcha]

Vigilante!All Might x Reader snippet

Here’s a snippet of the first chapter of my Vigilante!All Might x reader AU. Again, it’s self indulgent, but I’m not sure if I’ll be focusing on this one, or my other ones, but this is the one that kind of just started flowing so I went with it.  Again, I only have my iPad and touch keyboard, which gets very moody so sometimes it’s hard to type.  I just wanted to post a sample of my writing so people know what I offer and not get too excited so they won’t get their hopes up because I haven’t even really posted anything and have people following me/liking my posts, but I guess I’m worried about being disappointing as a writer so here’s a sample for you to decide if you like my writing or not!  Cheers!

*edit* whoops forgot a synopsis that might help!

You’re an ER nurse, quirkless, and on the verge of burnout.  

At least, you thought you were quirkless until an opportunity arises that shows you were never quirkless, it’s just that you were never in a situation that utilized your quirk.  All your childhood dreams of being a super hero with an amazing quirk were effectively dashed at a young age, but upon the horrifying truth of your quirk, you realize that it was better to let sleeping dogs lie and that being quirkless was not the worst thing in the world.

Now you’re mandatorily enlisted to support the supposed law enforcement that was meant to protect and serve civilians and the general population, but you find yourself entangled in the corruption.  You’re only hope is a chance meeting with a strange man, and the infamous villain All Might.  But is he really the villain that the media and government paints him out to be?

You repressed what would have been an obscenely large yawn, briefly raising the back of your hand to hover over your mouth, a strangled noise resulting in the back of your throat and the warmth of creeping tears welling up behind your eyelids that you blinked away before they threatened to spill over.  You let your hand drop limply back to your side as you stepped out of the emergency room into the waiting room, or what you and your coworkers most commonly referred to as ‘The Pit,’ with a clipboard clutched to your chest.

It was packed with a variety of different potential patients, all of whom jerked their gaze to you the moment you entered, you’re stethoscope hung around your neck over you’re patterned scrubs (it was the only real choice you had to show your individuality so you’re damn right they were cute) marking you like a giant target out in an empty field.  It never failed to make you feel like a piece of meat on display to a pack of wild animals.  You could practically feel them humming with anxious energy as they all individually willed you to their direction, to be the lucky ticket holder to be able to walk through those double doors and have their emergency dealt with.

‘Sorry,’ you thought dully with no real sincerity as you walked past a few people before stopping at your intended target, ‘but the lucky contestant is—‘

“Hello,” you greet with a smile plastered onto your face, stretching the corners of your mouth turning it into more of a grimace than a genuine expression of greeting.  It was a sort of instinctual mechanism you’ve developed over time in your career, all teeth and no tongue, a reminder of the harsh reality that the medical world cared less about actual medical practice and more about customer service (and money). However, you had plenty of time and situations to practice pulling off that award-winning smile of false assurance in even the most dire situations that could fool most.  

For example, it had the intended effect on the young boy with a mess of wild dark green hair and freckles dotting over his small cheeks, still rounded with residual baby fat.  His already impossibly large eyes widened as you now stood before him, a nervous smile returned in response to yours as he fidgeted with a tattered note book in his hands, something he clearly used to distract himself while waiting.  Your smile softened a small bit out of genuine concern. He was probably a preteen, barely even twelve, but admittedly you found looks and age never coincided well in your line of work.

He seemed to sense your sincerity, his smiling becoming less stiff and his shoulders relaxing as the hands in his lap were no longer ringing the poor notebook to confetti. 

Your gaze drifted over to the man at his side just in time to see him double over in a coughing fit.  Without even batting an eye you grabbed a box of tissues sitting on top a table full of outdated magazines, as well as fished out one of the unused disposable mask from your scrub pocket.   You held them out to the man as an offering, but he kept his gaze down and only glared at your proffered hand in response, opting to use a closed fist as his means of infection control.

It was clear who your patient was as the scent of copper assaulted your senses, and it was fairly obvious how your shift would play out if this would be your first patient.

Wonderful, you thought without any trace of humor as you placed the mask and box of tissue on the table and waited patiently for his coughing fit to subside.

The boy seemed to jump to his feet, hovering over the clearly emancipated form of the man hunched over in his seat.  His eyes were heavy with dark shadows, cheekbones and chin sharply defined from his sunken cheeks, his teeth bared and stained with blood as he struggled to control his coughing fit.  Your assessment was running through your head, assumptions already swimming to the surface of your mind as you surveyed him from head to toe.

Loose, ill-fitting clothing hung from his skeletal frame, decorated with an array of damage and stains from long term use.  His skin stretched thin over bony prominence in his joints, including the nape of his neck and down his spine that you managed to catch a glimpse of while he was hunched over.  He wore a long sleeved black shirt with khaki colored cargo pants, cinched together with a belt around his thin waist with a large, gaudy looking belt buckle.  His blond hair was unkempt, probably dry and fragile from poor nutritional intake, sticking up in all directions aside from two distinctive locks that flopped about his face during his coughing fit.  

Drug user?  Addict?  With his long sleeves you couldn’t tell if there was any injection sites.  Hemoptysis indicated something with the respiratory system or maybe digestive system?  Obviously lung issues were present.  Pneumonia? Cancer?  Definitely need to start IV fluids—

“—fine.”

You must have been lost in your thoughts because the man was now standing and you had to take a step back, your eyes widening as you took in his full height.  His posture was poor, but god, he still towered over you.  He was clearly well over six feet,  maybe seven?  Now that he was standing, you almost flinched at how obviously malnourished this man appeared to be.  The shirt he wore was three sizes too large and hung very loosely around his neck, giving you glimpse of his clavicles protruding sharply above his chest.

But his eyes were still what unnerved you the most. 

You realize that the sound of his voice, a deep rich baritone that you hardly expected to come out of such a fragile looking man, was what pulled you from your reverie.  He had been brushing off the young boy when he waved the tissues out to him almost frantically.

You realized you must have been staring, frozen in place from his gaze, but the moment he turned to address the boy at his side, you seemed to regain your senses, feeling a bit shaken.  You really didn’t think you’ve ever met someone with an eye color that was such a shockingly bright shade of blue.

Slightly intimidated by his height, you regained your composure as you put on your best assertive, yet friendly customer service voice.

“If you could please follow me?  I’ll guide you to your room and then we can triage you, Mr—?”

You already knew his supposed name (from the shoddily attempted paperwork that was scribbled in by the boy at his side.  You highly doubted this man would have bothered to even look at the paperwork given his current attitude) but you trailed off, giving him a chance to fill in the blanks to try and build rapport in the short amount of time you would have to assess him.  However, judging by his posture and resistance to the offer of even a small tissue, you could already tell how smoothly this interaction would go.

He scowls in response, those shockingly bright blue eyes contrasting sharply with the dark shadows overcasting his gaze, piercing you from their depths.

Right.

“Alright, Himawari-san, if you and your son would just follow me,” you motioned them towards the silver double doors.

The expression on the man’s face was absolutely priceless and you thanked the higher powers above you to help turn your day around, because this reaction alone was definitely enough to help you handle whatever would be thrown your way the rest of the day.

You really should have known better than to jinx yourself like that.

“My name’s not... He’s not—“ the man didn’t seem to know where to begin, his protests flying at the same time as the boy spoke, but a coughing fit overtook the rest of his response before he could finish.

“I-I’m not his son!” The boy supplied quickly, flustered as a dark hue spread across his cheeks, his freckles even more prominent in his embarrassment.  

You felt a little bad for teasing.  You knew this was obviously not the man’s name, and it was probably a struggle for this boy to find a suitable name to use in the interim.  In addition to the ridiculous (yet ironically, strangely fitting) name chosen, you knew this could not be the man’s son.  But it did put into question why this boy was trying so hard to help some stranger who didn’t even seem to want to give him the time of day, let alone his own name.

You’ve been surprised before, but this time your assumptions were correct and you were more than entertained by the results.  

Your patient was less than amused by the way he gruffly passed his sleeve over his mouth to wipe away the remnants of blood dripping down his chin and shot a dark look at both you and the boy, who flinched in response.  

“Alright, my apologies,” you attempted to placate the man as you directed him in the direction of the emergency room.  Surprisingly, he let you lead him by the elbow with no resistance, though a glower was still present on his face.  You heard movement from behind you and saw the young boy was getting ready to follow.  You paused before turning to the boy with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re not family and he doesn’t consent to your presence, I think you’ll have to go home,” you told the boy, a twisting in your chest at the drop in his expression. “But thank you for your assistance.  You’re very kind.”

“O-oh, you... you don’t have to thank me, I just... uh,” the boy stuttered, flustered by your praise, gaze darting to his shoes as he fiddled with the straps of his backpack.  “I-I understand.  But, um... c-could you update me later?  Just... just so I know he’s okay?”

His voice sounded so hopeful and you felt your heart sink.  Due to legality, you couldn’t very well volunteer any information to anyone that wasn’t approved by the patient unless they were incoherent or had some sort of power of attorney, and even then it could be complicated.  Especially if your patient was a stubborn gentlemen who refused to even give you said basic and pertinent information.

The dour man was already at the emergency room entrance and was looking at you impatiently, ready to get this experience over with.  Quickly you grabbed the boy’s hands and offered your pen as you gestured to his notebook.

“Tell you, what, kiddo.  Write your name and number on a piece of paper and I’ll give it to Sunshine over there so he can call you and update you himself?” 

The young boy beamed at the suggestion and hurriedly scribbled down the information before ripping out the piece of paper and handing it to you excitedly before giving you and your patient an enthusiastic wave.  Turning and stumbling out of the waiting room, he waved once more from outside as the doors closed, effectively cutting him off from sight.

You carefully folded the piece of paper and placed it in your scrub pocket before turning to your patient.  If possible, his expression had darkened significantly with his hands clenched into fists at his side, most likely at the promise you had forced upon him.

“Ah, sorry.  Did you prefer to give me your real name after all?”

As expected, your only response was a glare with those unnerving, piercing blue eyes.

You tilted your head and walked over to him before pushing open the doors, gesturing with a flourish to keep the doors open for him as you smiled widely.  For once, it was genuine and this seemed to catch the man off guard, his expression relaxing from its furrowed brow to that of wary confusion.

“Himawari-san it is then!  Shall we?” You gave an exaggerated bow, attracting the attention of your coworkers and patients alike who began to giggle at the display, amused by your antics.

The scowl back in full force, your patient shoving open the doors roughly, probably hoping they would slam in your face or on one of your limbs after he passed through.  You couldn’t hold back your sigh, catching the doors so that they would swing gently closed behind you.

If looks could kill, you’d probably be dead a thousand times over.

Thank you for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoyed it!  I take a while to write tho given my situation with my iPad also I have an old man back with no desk or chair so I hunch over to write which can be tiring, haha.  

Also I decided to keep the Japanese honorifics to keep things uniform for later because I’ll probably use things like ‘-kun’ ‘-chan’ and such and it’s kind of hard to find English equivalents for them so I hope that won’t be a huge issue to some.  Also, Himawari means sunflower which is, of course, a little jab at how the Vigilante!All Might in my fic is kind of grouchy compared to use usual sunflowery authentic self, but he’ll become warmer, if I ever get around to it!

And of course sorry for grammar and spelling errors, but other than that thank you for taking the time to read!  Have a wonderful day!

[lfthinkerwrites]

Endgame

Title: Endgame

Fandom: Batman

Rating: PG for some mentioned, but not explicit nastiness courtesy of one Joker.

Pairing: Scriddler, Harley/Ivy and BatCat mentioned.

Summary: Nothing lasts forever. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Notes: I have two main ‘verses’ I write. One is PI verse and the other is my Oneshot verse, where most of my Scriddler stuff is set. This won’t be the last Scriddler oneshot I do by a long shot, but it is how I see their story ending.  You can also consider this a happier antidote to what’s coming in PI verse...

On some level, Edward always knew he and the rest of the Rogues gallery were operating on borrowed time. 

Life in Gotham, as a civilian, crime fighter or rogue, was a delicate balancing act. There was an unspoken understanding that there was only so far the game could go, only so many lines the players could cross before game over. 

One day, everything finally fell apart. One day, the Joker went too far.

Edward always knew the clown would ruin it, somehow. 

Joker had, in his infinite ‘wisdom’, decided to make Gotham over in his own vision. To that effect, he had poisoned Gotham’s water supply with his venom. Hundreds of people had been hospitalized, including Commissioner Gordon. Edward wasn’t sure how many had died. In the ensuing scuffle with Batman and his foes, the youngest Robin had fallen ill as well.

Even after seeing his own son in the grips of Joker venom, Batman still would not kill the clown. Batman would never take a life, not even Joker’s.

Batman wouldn’t. The boy’s mother was another story entirely.

A week after the Joker had been taken into custody, he’d been taken from the Asylum by the League of Assassins. What exactly happened after that would remain unknown, but Joker’s mutilated body had been found hanging in front of City Hall the following morning. A clear message to the rest of the Rogues.

In his own way, Joker had been a stabilizing force in Gotham City. As long as he lived, the mob bosses would only go so far to antagonize the Rogues, while the Rogues’ ability to team up together was tempered by the desire to keep Joker out of their schemes. Now that the clown was irrevocably gone, chaos ensued.

Joker would have enjoyed that too, the bastard.

Falcone, Maroni and the few other mob heads still active in Gotham City saw an opportunity to reclaim what they’d lost when the age of the Rogues had begun. They’d entered into an alliance to forcibly take over Joker’s old territory. A group of Rogues, headed up by Dent, were mobilizing to fight back. Factor in the dozens of jumped up thugs who were left unemployed by Joker’s demise and the city was spiraling into anarchy. Some of his fellow criminals saw an opportunity. Edward, always three steps ahead of everyone else, saw the writing on the wall.

As tempting as the thought of clawing his way to the top of heap in Gotham’s Underworld was, Edward was rational. He was forty now. He wasn’t getting any younger. While he wasn’t a shrinking violet, the amount of violence he was witnessing was making the prospect of getting involved in this war very unappealing. And truth be told, he’d been active for nearly twenty years. He’d had a good run. Perhaps it was time to consider a graceful retirement.

“You’re absolutely certain about this Edward?”

Edward nodded and took another sip of his drink. “I’ve considered every possible scenario Oswald. This is the only option I have that leaves my freedom and wealth intact.”

Oswald didn’t look convinced. “Surely, people have made you offers.”

“Of course,” Edward snorted. “Falcone offered me a permanent position in his organization if I helped them. Dent was more honest at least. He said, I could join with them, or I had the choice between being shot or being run over by a truck. I never did care for taking orders from anyone.”

“No you certainly haven’t.” Oswald agreed, puffing at his cigarette. “You know, there is another option. As you know, I’m staying out of this petty squabble.”

Edward knew. Oswald was a smart man. He knew that no matter which side ‘won’, it would be a Pyrrhic victory at best. Losses would be sustained on both sides, and Batman and his cronies could be counted on to deal with the winners. And when both sides were taken care of, it would be Oswald Cobblepot ruling over the remains. “I could easily offer you a position Edward.”

Edward shook his head. “Thank you, but no. To tell the truth Oswald, I’m not enjoying the game much anymore. I haven’t since before the Joker got what he so richly deserved, but now...”he sighed. “I’m tired. I’m ready to move on.”

“And what does Crane intend to do?”

Edward fiddled with his ring finger. The gold band he wore under his glove had never felt heavier than it did now. “I...we haven’t discussed it yet.”

Oswald mercifully said nothing about that. “Well. I don’t agree with your decision, but I respect it.” Oswald held out his hand. “My door is always open to you my friend.”

Edward shook his hand. “Until the next lifetime Oswald.”

“So it’s true? You’re leaving Gotham?”

“Are you going to try to talk me out of it Selina?”

Selina shook her head. “No. Honestly Eddie, I’m relieved. This city...sometimes I wonder why I’m still here.”

Edward thought a certain masked vigilante had something to do with that, but didn’t say anything. “Harley’s not still in town, is she?” Harley had left Joker for good years ago, but Edward didn’t think Talia al Ghul would ignore her past association with him.

“No,” Selina answered. “She and Ivy left last night. Said they were going to South America for a bit. So, where are you and Jonathan going to go?”

Edward fiddled with his ring finger. “I don’t know. I...I don’t know that Jonathan’s coming with me.”

Selina looked shocked. “Jonathan’s not seriously going to join in this mess, is he?”

“I..we haven’t talked about it.”

Selina slapped her palm against her forehead. “Eddie! He’s your husband! How have you not talked about this?”

“He’s been shut up in his basement since we heard about what happened to Joker!” Edward snapped. “He hasn’t talked to me!” Edward could and should insist. But there was a part of him that felt that if he did, then Jonathan would want to stay. The longer he out it off, the longer they could stay together.

Selina sighed. “Ok. This might be the last time I see you for awhile. I don’t want to spend it fighting. But you will talk to him.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yes Selina.”

Selina nodded. “Good boy.” She paused. “You’ll need to go soon,” she said seriously. “Batman thinks that things are going to start getting bad in the next few days. He’ll be so busy trying to help contain it that if you and Jon take off and lay low, he won’t come looking for you.”

Edward nodded. “Right. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid like trying to be a hero.”

Selina laughed. “Who me? Please.” Selina got up out of her chair and hugged Edward then. “Don’t completely disappear. I’d like to stay in touch with you.”

Edward returned her hug and pretended his eyes weren’t welling up a bit. “I won’t. Stay safe Lina.”

Two days later and all of the necessary arrangements were made. Edward had moved his money into an offshore account, barring a few thousand in cash, he’d sent Nina and Deirdre the last of his old equipment and he’d let go his last few remaining henchmen. All that was left was to decide where to go. 

And to talk to Jonathan.

Jonathan was sitting on their sofa, reading an old textbook of his. His eyes looked up at Edward as he entered their home. “You’re home late,” he drawled. “What have you been up to?”

Edward fiddled with his ring finger. Now or never. “Jonathan,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Jonathan put his book down and looked Edward straight in the eyes. “Oh?”

Edward wet his lip. “It’s about what’s happening in Gotham.”

“You’re referring to the upcoming war I assume.”

“Yes, yes I am.” Edward took a breath. “I can’t stay here Jon. I’m leaving.”

For a long moment, Jonathan said nothing. His expression was as cold and impassive as ever. “Did you hear me Jonathan?” Edward asked. “I’m leaving!” Surely, Jonathan cared about that. Why wasn’t he reacting?

“I see,” Jonathan answered. “That’s a relief.”

Edward blinked. “It...is?”

Jonathan got up off of the sofa. “Edward,” he said. “Follow me.”

Edward did as he said and followed him down into the basement. What he saw made him audibly gasp. Jonathan’s basement was almost completely bare. All of Jonathan’s papers were packed into boxes on the floor, his chemicals were stored away and his desk was cleared off. Nightmare sat in his cage, observing the two men.

“This is what you were doing?” Edward asked. 

“Yes,” Jonathan answered. “I’m fifty years old Edward. I’m getting too old for this nonsense.”

“But-what about your research?”

“I’ve spent over twenty years collecting data. That should be more than sufficient. If more is required, I don’t need to be in Gotham to do it.”

“And just when were you going to tell me about this!?”

“Tonight. I wasn’t sure what you were intending to do. If you had said you wanted to stay and get involved in this nonsense, I was prepared to sedate you and take off with you.”

Edward’s mouth opened, then shut again. Jonathan took advantage of his silence and grasped his hands. “I married you Edward,” he said softly. “There was no scenario in which I would have ever left you.”

Now tears were freely streaming down Edward’s face. “Jon...” he wrapped his arms around him and Jonathan held him tightly.

“So we’ve ruled out Metropolis, Keystone City, Central City and Star City for obvious reasons. You don’t want to go back down South, which I’m in full agreement on. What about San Diego? The weather’s nice, it’s close to the Mexican border if we need to flee-”

“Too many damn Californians,” Jonathan interrupted. “What about Maine?”

Edward pulled a face. “Maine? Jonathan, the winters there are godawful. You’d freeze to death! What about the Southwest?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “You want to live in a desert?”

“Alright, fair point. What about Boston?”

Jonathan considered this. “I think that would work.”

“Boston it is.”

The next evening, the car was packed. Edward had sent most of their things off to their new address in a Uhaul, leaving only their personal effects and Nightmare, who was cooped up in his carrier. “Nightmare hates that thing,” Jonathan groused.

“Well he’s not flying loose in my car. I spent over $300 getting the seats cleaned the last time.” Edward took one last look at the house. They’d had some good times in that place. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Edward started the car and began driving along the main road. In no time at all it seemed, they were on the main bridge out of Gotham City. Edward took one last look at the Gotham skyline reflected in the rear view mirror. He’d spent his entire adult life there. Were they doing the right thing? What would they do with themselves?

Edward felt Jonathan’s hand grip his shoulder gently. “We’ll be alright Edward,” he said. “As long as we’re together, we’ll be alright.”

Edward took his eyes off of the rear view mirror and looked at the open road ahead of them. “Of course we will be,” he said. “I am a genius after all.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Five years later

“Darlin’ I’m home!” Jonathan called out as he entered their apartment. Thanks to the fake credentials Edward had managed to secure and his own powers of persuasion, Jonathan had managed to get a job teaching psychology at a community college. It might not be as prestigious as Gotham University had been, but it was still satisfying. Jonathan had almost forgotten how much he had genuinely enjoyed teaching. “Edward? You here?”

“I’m in the bedroom!” Edward’s irritated voice called out. Jonathan walked in to find him scowling in front of their mirror. “Look at this!” he complained. “I found another gray hair!”

“It’s a natural part of aging Edward,” Jonathan said, placing his briefcase on their bed. “You should take it gracefully.”

“You’re one to talk,” Edward groused. “You’ve been going gray for the better part of ten years!”

“Beats dying Edward.”

Edward’s face softened a bit. As they had both predicted, the gang war that had erupted in Gotham had more than a few casualties. Sionis, Falcone, Elliott, Walker and Lynns had died outright, Freeze had disappeared and most of the others had been transferred to an out of state facility after the fighting had destroyed Arkham. Still, it wasn’t all bad news. Oswald Cobblepot was the undisputed king of the Gotham Underworld now, defanged as it was. Harvey Dent had apparently finally reformed. Harley and Ivy had visited them in between their travels. Selina kept in contact too, constantly sending them pictures of her daughter, who was now three years old. And of course, Jonathan and Edward were still together. “I suppose we did get a happier ending than we probably deserved, didn’t we Jon?”

Jonathan leaned down and kissed the top of Edward’s head. “I’m not complaining.”

Edward smiled and pulled Jonathan down for a proper kiss. Life was a bit boring at times, but life was good.

What neither man knew was that someone had been watching them. Bruce Wayne had arrived in Boston after receiving a tip that Jonathan was teaching there. He’d been observing them for almost a week now and the worst thing he’d seen them do was bicker over the copy of a Boston Globe. Bruce walked away from where he’d been watching their apartment building and back towards his car. He’d been away from Gotham and his family long enough. He’d keep an ear out for any potential trouble, but as far as he was concerned, there was no need to bring in Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane.

[ohgoddard]

Fist of Fire: Omega.  1.3.

“Now then, Ms. Kiara”

“Please, call me Omega man.”

The exasperated sigh she gave filled me with a small glee I don’t get often due to my incarceration.  “Ms. Kiara, I will refer to you by your full name and nothing more. Now then, will we be getting to the murders today?”

Oh she wishes.

“You know I met The Query? Strange man, I say. Why, it was a cold day in Mobile..”

The frustrated noise in her throat almost made me stop due to laughter, but I was too committed  (heh, committed) to stop telling the story.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alabama wasn’t a very forgiving place for someone like me. You know, someone with powers. Thought I was going somewhere else with that, didn’t ya? Ha, no. I don’t have to state the obvious. Alabama was still the only state in the country that forbid use of superpowers. Hence, it was a hotbed of amazing hide-outs and vigilantes who were really good at not getting caught. I’m not gonna go into my political views on it, but I really think they should open the state up. Would kick the likes of Pharaoh and The Anti-American out of the country, y’know? Really, just the entire state is a -

Excuse me. Sorry I didn’t mean to go off like that. I'm sounding like a member of the Powers Committee, heh. Anyways, I was in Alabama hiding after the warehouse incident. During the night, some heroes almost saw me and it nearly blew my cover. I was still trying to be Omegaman, remember. They couldn’t see the ‘man of justice’ throwing fire hydrants into kidnappers, can they? Nor can they see me, er, him punch a drug dealer into mist. It would really ruin my image, y’know?

I don’t know why you’re giving me that look. I can hear your heartbeat too, doc. Yeah, I killed them. I killed a couple dozen that night. A few every other night. The criminals just keep coming, the voices got to me, I couldn’t stop it anymore. Being a hero in the day didn’t make them stop. Only getting rid of what caused them did. So yeah, I killed them. The drug deals who delt to kids who OD’s then died in their crying mother’s hands. The kidnappers who’d ransom their prized woman into sex-slavery and the whole ring of sickos who bid on em. The pimps, the movers, the shakers. If they made a voice, I stopped it. Not like there was lost to society anyways. If they had families, they’re better off without the likes of them.  Now please slow your heartbeat, its annoying me.

Anyways, where was I? Right, so after I went on a justice spree throughout the city I had to leave. See I… I awoke from that face I slid into. The one that killed the White-whatisitname and all those others. And I felt all that I did. I went into the bathroom of my shitty apartment and just threw up. The entire time I still heard the voices. Different voices now, caused by different people. It didn’t matter what I did, which I think only made me sicker. After going to those lengths, again not my first time doing this mind you, and still not hearing a even the smallest dip in terror? Why I went ballistic on my poor apartment after I was done in the bathroom. I even destroyed that. Kinda wish I didn’t, really wanted that 

Which led me to my escape to Alabama. Yeah, it wasn’t really because of the warehouse or what I did that night, but it was related. So I was Alabama. Mobile, to be specific. I don’t why I went to a big city, i’ll be completely honest. Well, I do. See, the voices were awful in any city. But in any Alabama city? Thirty times worse. But I stuck it out. 

There was never a quiet moment in the city. Constant gun fire, laser fire, explosions. I would question why anyone would ever live in the city, but then my rent was $200 a month so I shut my mouth. You would see, well I guess not  you, but you would see people flying then helicopters that follow them then a loud explosion shortly after. Heroes were fighting a double front war down there. Alabama is home to the real heroes. They do it for the right reasons down there. They fight the government and, ugh I hate using this word but, evil too. Sometimes they’re the same. What am I kidding? Most of the time.

I met The Query during my fourth night there. And coincidentally, my first time being Omega Man in Alabama. I tried to keep that… that itch from being scratched for so long. But the voices got to me. Most nights I didn’t even need superhearing, they screamed right outside my window. I tried for so long to keep my head down, but it got bad. I would rock myself to sleep, clawing at my ears. I tore the drywall down in fits of panic, the noises in my head never stopping. I screamed, joining them in an immaculate chorus of suffering. The fourth night I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to feel secure, I wanted to feel safe. When I am Kiara, I am nothing but a target for those disgusting hyenas that roam the streets. When I am Kiara, I am at my weakest, despite not really being. 

The voices don’t hurt me when I wear the helmet. The stares from the predators are averted when I wear his shirt. My shirt. Omega Man protects people like Kiara. 

Like my dad did.

I jumped out my window and flew high into the sky, where the voices almost drowned out. I could see the entire city, and a good bit of it was on fire. Like usual. The entire state was an economic drain, I don’t know why they keep the power ban. See like, the federal government doesn’t even ban the use of them its like -

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ms.Kiara.”

She cut me off? Wow, she’s feeling brave today. Especially after the whole terror thing she experienced.

I turned my restrained head to look at her, being sure to flex my neck muscle to do it. I broke one of the straps and she jumped, but quickly tried to regain her composure in that way people who are not composed do. She cleared her throat in a very panicked and lady-like manner.

“Please keep on topic.”

I flash her a smile. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I met The Query at the end of the night. I stopped several robberies, thew some cops and their cars into the water, and tusseled with The Anti-American. He can throw a good punch, especially given the current political climate. I was sitting on the roof of a building, holding my ribs because damn The AA can hurt, when I heard his footsteps approach from behind.

“Well well, I haven’t seen your shiny bronze head in this part in a while. What brings the law into the realm of the lawless?”

I turned to see a..normal man. He was by all accounts completely passable. He wore a long yellow trenchcoat adorned with a silver question mark on his shoulder, a scarf that obscured his face up to his nose, and a curious george man in the yellow hat...hat. I could tell he had a gun in his pocket, but it wasn’t pointed at me. But his eyes definitely were. And they were looking me over. Hard. I felt like Kiara and not Omega Man in that moment, underneath those bright yellow spotlights of eyes. I wondered if my collar was dipping, if my padding was too form fitting, if my hair was sticking out from underneath my helmet. 

“Why, you haven’t changed a single bit!”

I breathed a sigh of relief. His voice was  a ‘high class’ southern one, sounding like someone’s grandpa. And with the salt and pepper hair I saw under his hat, he probably was. 

I said, “Who are you again? My memory evades me.”

The man smiled underneath his scarf and chuckled. “Why, then I must be doing my job well. I’m The Query, hero of the streets and the common man. When the police cannot, and often can’t, find out who killed your husband or stole your car, I am there. I investigate big gang bosses, snoop in on the Lords of the Underground, and even deliver justice of my own. Of course I don’t expect you to remember me, It's a trick I use. No one ever does.”

I just nodded my head in the way you do when you think the other person is spouting nonsense.

“But, I cannot say the same for you, Omega Man. The entire city knows you’re here. And if I can find you, others are not too far behind. But its good I’m here, I have something to tell you.”

I need to add that he was mere inches away from my face the entire time. I was glad that my mask obscured my face, and his breath. I don’t imagine it smelled nice. I was happy when he stepped away and struck a dramatic pose on the edge of the building, with a sudden wind coming over the city.

“There are murmurs in the underground. Someone close to you is out to get you. Be safe.”

With that he jumped off the side of the building. I rushed to the side, but he was gone! I all but thought he disappeared into nothingness until I saw a bright yellow coat walking briskly the following day. But by then, I was Kiara again. Doesn’t matter what he said though. He was too late.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doors shut behind me to my room and I tore off my bounds once again. Another day of them thinking they’re getting somewhere in my psyche, and another day of me completely fuckign with them. I have to change it up a bit every day. Throw in a new personality, be sad one day then be quirky and quick to violence the next. I have to keep my crazy persona for just a bit longer. 

I listen for the TV. For the news station down the hall, past the screams of the deranged.

They’re talking about a parade for the local town here, planned for next month.

Whirlwind’s parade.

[aion-rsa]

Watchmen Episode 2 Easter Eggs Explained

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We're piecing together all of the clues and Easter eggs in the Watchmen HBO series.

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This article contains Watchmen episode 2 spoilers.

HBO’s Watchmen episode 2 continues the pattern of the first episode, not only reminding audiences of its ties to the comics, but also offering echoes of the original story in unexpected places. And just as we did with episode one, we’re here to track down all of the Watchmen Easter eggs on the HBO series. 

If you spot something we missed, let us know in the comments or on Twitter and we’ll get this updated!

THE TITLE

The episode’s title, “Martial Feats of Comanche Horsemanship” references the painting that the camera ominously lingers on in Judd’s house during the wake. That painting is a 1834 work by George Catlin, known for his depictions of Native Americans. Weirdly the episode title has rearranged the original name of the painting a bit as it’s titled “Comanche Feats of Martial Horsemanship.” The Comanche were accomplished horsemen, and often fought on horseback. I’m not fluent enough in Native American history or 19th century art to fully explain the possible significance, historical or otherwise of this painting. Please enlighten us in the comments.

THE SQUID RAIN AND THE NEWS

- This episode gives us our first mentions of both the New Frontiersman and Nova Express, the right and left wing papers (respectively) of the Watchmen universe. Rorschach was a massive fan of the New Frontiersman, which in this timeline is also owned (surprise!) by Roger Ailes.

- While the squid rain showers appear to have been going on for quite some time, it appears that the one that we saw in episode 1 was particularly widespread, with people talking about them happening simultaneously in multiple cities across the globe. It’s also interesting to note that people in this world consider them “false flags.”

- And, of course, we get the newsvendor giving the audience the running commentary on the state of the world, just as we did in the original book. While not the same character as the one from the book, this guy, Seymour, is roughly the same age and played by Robert Wisdom (The Wire), and also made his first proper appearance in the second chapter. Also note that in a world without the internet, newspapers are still far more important than they are to ours.

- We finally meet Senator (and Presidential hopeful) Joe Keene. Robert Redford is currently serving his 7th (!) term in office and isn’t planning on running for an 8th. Keene is the conservative candidate most likely to make a run for it. His father was responsible for the Keene Act which outlawed masked vigilante activity in the wake of the police strike of 1977.

RORSCHACH

- To say that Detective Looking Glass is the Rorschach of this show would perhaps be a little too obvious, hence his display of emotion with “then why am I crying under here.” On the other hand, later in the episode we see that even at home he eats with the mask on, Rorschach style. This COULD play into the idea that, like Walter Kovacs, Looking Glass sees his mask as his true face.

We wrote more about Rorschach and his connection to the 7th Kavalry right here.

SISTER NIGHT and THE WHITE NIGHT

- The flashback to “the White Night” is the first piece of Angela’s Sister Night origin story that we get in this show, and like it was for characters in the original book, this will be teased out over future chapters.

- The version of “Santa Baby” that plays during the flashback sequence to the White Night appears to be Eartha Kitt’s. Eartha Kitt wore a mask herself as Catwoman during the third season of the 1966 Batman TV series. It’s interesting to note that the song slows down as danger increases, perhaps to illustrate how time slows and senses sharpen in moments of great duress.

- Also, when Cal wants to open his present it’s “two minutes to midnight.” The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists tracks how close humanity is to annihilating itself via its “Doomsday Clock.” The clock began at “7 minutes to midnight in 1947, hit “two minutes to midnight” in 1953, and has been as far away as 17 minutes in the ensuing decades. It is at this moment once again set at “two minutes to midnight” in part to reflect the growing threat and reality of climate change, as well as reckless nuclear saber rattling by world leaders who probably should know better but obviously do not.

It’s also a killer Iron Maiden tune, but you knew that.

- The blood spatter on Angela’s face almost could be another mirror of the “minutes to midnight” blood spatter pattern on the Comedian’s badge which has long been considered Watchmen’s logo.

- Note that during the flashback in the hospital, Judd’s bandages correspond to the old bullet scars we saw on him in episode 1 when he was putting his shirt on.

- Angela’s phone number is 539-176-2442. At the moment nothing happens if you call it. Not that I've tried or anything.

THE COMEDIAN

- In Nixonville, Red antagonizing a crowd and then losing it when somebody throws a bottle feels very much like the similarly antagonistic Comedian, back when he was partnered up with Nite Owl, taking on a crowd of rioters during the police strike in 1977 before the passage of the Keene Act. Of course, Red and the Comedian would share very little in common politically.

read more: How HBO's Watchmen Was Brought to Life

- Angela’s discovery of Judd’s...um...costume...directly mirrors Rorschach’s discovery of the Comedian’s costume in Edward Blake’s closet in the first issue of Watchmen. Like Angela, Rorschach had no idea of his colleague’s double identity. The difference here is that Rorschach and Comedian worked together professionally as masked adventurers, and didn’t know each other’s secret identities. Rorschach instead stumbles on Blake’s true identity while investigating his murder.

NITE OWL

- Angela and Cal’s children are wearing “pirate” and “owl” costumes. The pirate remains a key pop cultural touchstone in the Watchmen universe, as pirate comics filled the void that superhero comics never needed to fill, as illustrated by the “Tales of the Black Freighter” story that runs through the Watchmen book. “Feed ‘em to the sharks” feels like a reference to that particularly macabre supernatural pirate story. 

The “owl” is a reference to Nite Owl, and while Dan Dreiberg has so far been absent from this show, he’s here in spirit in a number of ways, perhaps especially in the goggles we Angela using to search Judd’s closet at the end of the episode, which look suspiciously like Nite Owl technology. In fact, between the Owlship style hovercraft we saw used as a police vehicle in episode 1, this, and the revelation via HBO’s official supplemental materials that Dan Dreiberg was arrested in 1995 for actions that violated the Keene Act, it might be possible that his punishment might involve creating technology for the police. Or it was simply handed over, confiscated, and then duplicated.

DR. MANHATTAN

- The weird, floating magnetic castle that Topher is building looks very much like the red sand castle we saw Dr. Manhattan building in the first episode. The big blue guy also dismissed that with a wave of his hand. Both structures look suspiciously similar to the castle occupied by the guy who is most certainly not Adrian Veidt (ahem) that Jeremy Irons is playing.

- In the background of Topher’s room there’s a reproduction of Salvador Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory,” the “melting pocket watch” painting that could be the surrealist’s most famed work. Considering Jon Osterman’s (and now theoretical Adrian Veidt’s) love for pocket watches, this could be significant, especially when paired with the apparent affinity Topher has with the dwellings/constructions of both characters.

- The play that the “mysterious gentleman” is putting on at the end of the episode is a dramatization of Dr. Jon Osterman’s transformation into Dr. Manhattan, right down to one of the “clones” (if that’s what they are) adopting the character’s blue skin tone and traditional nudity. It wouldn’t be a Watchmen show if there wasn’t some blue dong. If only it was glowing. I’m sure we’ll get there.

AMERICAN HERO STORY AND HOODED JUSTICE

- Opening with “Fraulein Mueller” typing a piece of propaganda can’t be a coincidence in the same episode where we have the “American Hero Story” episode about Rolf Mueller, Hooded Justice.

- The propaganda leaflet dropped on black American soldiers marching towards the line in World War I is word for word from an actual historical leaflet from 1917.

- The FCC warning on American Hero Story: Minutemen feels like a jab at the kind of self policing common in liberal circles. Robert Redford is apparently an exceptionally liberal President, and not everyone is thrilled about it. Note, for example, how the newsvendor jokes about Redford’s “libstapo.”

- American Hero Story focuses heavily on the early days of Hooded Justice. The painting on the back of Rolf’s corpse’s jacket is from a particular Dave Gibbons illustration in the book, meant to be a photograph of Muller as a circus strongman in his prime. The fact that the narrator hints that this isn’t him is a nod to the fact that the corpse was so badly decomposed that they weren’t able to make a positive identification on him. 

We wrote much more about the convoluted mystery surrounding Hooded Justice right here.

You may also note that, like Judd’s dead body, “Rolf” is only wearing one boot.

- Incidentally, the style in which American Hero Story is presented, from the use of slow motion to the speed-ramping to the oversaturated colors and absurdly self-serious and unintentionally hilarious narration and tone, all feel a little like how Zack Snyder envisioned this world in his 2007 Watchmen movie adaptation. 

- Interestingly, they use a kid hawking newspapers to set the stage for Hooded Justice’s first major adventure, and he’s referring to Orson Welles’ famous “War of the Worlds” radio broadcast and hoax. However, Welles’ broadcast took place on Oct. 30, 1938, while Under the Hood sets the supermarket fight as Oct. 13, 1938. This isn’t an inaccuracy on HBO’s part, and is likely instead just an example of the American Hero Story producers taking artistic license to place the Hooded Justice fight in the fall of 1938 rather than tie it to a specific date.

ADRIAN VEIDT?

- Based on the candles on the cake, it appears to be Veidt’s SECOND anniversary wherever he is, even though only one day has passed for everyone else. Is this a sign of how time passes where he is, or perhaps the perceptions of those around him?

- “Nothing ends. Nothing ever ends,” were Dr. Manhattan’s last words to Adrian Veidt before departing for...redder pastures...at the end of the book.

- The stopwatch kicks off at 9 minutes to midnight. There are nine episodes of this show, hence “it has only just begun.” Incidentally, the Doomsday Clock has been set at 9 minutes to midnight twice in history, once in 1974 and again in 1998.

MUSIC

- The Temptations’ “Ball of Confusion” plays as Angela heads back to Judd’s murder scene, which...seems a little on the nose as far as music cues go.

- The episode ends with “Egg Man” by the Beastie Boys over the closing credits. The egg has been a recurring theme in these two episodes, whether it was Angela making the “smiley face” with the yolks in episode 1, or Will’s affinity for hard-boiled eggs (and the egg timer) in this episode. Look, any time we get a deep cut Beastie Boys needledrop anywhere it’s cause for celebration, and this song, which comes from their second LP, Paul’s Boutique. The song is a simple ode to the joys of throwing eggs at people. Considering the original Watchmen story takes place around Halloween, and this episode airs mere days before “Gate Night” when egg throwing and other mischief is a New York (and elsewhere) tradition, this is both playful and brilliant.

MISCELLANEOUS STUFF

- The paparazzi are wearing wings, and referred to as “moths.” This is likely an evolution of the crude flight technology that former Minutemen member Byron Lewis, the Mothman wore. The last we heard of Mothman in the original Watchmen book, he had suffered a nervous breakdown and was institutionalized. His fate is explored further in DC’s Doomsday Clock comic book sequel.

- Henry Louis “Skip” Gates is indeed a real person, a prominent African-American historian, teacher, and literary critic and scholar. We wrote more about him right here.

- In the alley behind Angela’s bakery you can see the same graffiti that the Knot-Top gang in the Watchmen comic painted. It’s a silhouette of two lovers, intended to evoke the shadows burned into the walls of Hiroshima by the atomic bomb. Somehow that motif made it to Tulsa, Oklahoma.

- Will is 105 years old. He jokes about being Dr. Manhattan, which obviously he is not. One thing notable is that the Bass Reeves silent film in episode 1 featured him wearing a costume that looked an awful lot like Hooded Justice. And Will is fond of the red and purple color scheme of that old masked vigilante. It's probably a coincidence, though. Right? Oh wait, there are no coincidences in the world of Watchmen.

Did you spot anything I missed? Let us know in the comments!

Keep up with all our Watchmen news and reviews here.

Mike Cecchini is the Editor in Chief of Den of Geek. You can read more of his work here. Follow him on Twitter @wayoutstuff.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Feature

Books

Mike Cecchini

Oct 27, 2019

Watchmen

HBO

DC Entertainment

from Books https://ift.tt/2BQdzvs

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Reasons To Have 30+ Jason In The DCEU:

First off in most comic canon, comic adaptations, and even fan fiction Jason is usually depicted as being eighteen years old. At the most he’s twenty. Now that’s all fine and dandy, but, it just simply does not work for the films.

The only way it would is if they made Jason the first Robin, and thus screw up the timeline, but since they’re making a Nightwing movie this doesn’t seem like a possibility. That being said, if you really think about it, having Jason be in his early twenties doesn’t work for quite a number of reasons. (All under the cut because this gets pretty long.)

DC Rebirth

Older Batman

Overdone

Jensen Ackles

Time to tackle these points…

DC Rebirth:

Jason’s already been aged in Rebirth. We don’t know exactly how old he is now but we can make a pretty good guess given what information we have available. For starters in many panels of Rebirth RHATO when it shows Jason’s past it clearly states YEARS AGO. Even when it shows his death it says YEARS AGO. So we know that a chunk of time has passed between the day he died and right now. We don’t know how much but it’s implied to be quite some time.

In the very first issue Jason tells us, via internal monologue, that he was sixteen when he first met Batman: I’d like to think that I’ve changed since he came across that punk kid in the alley. … But I’ve got something I never had when I was sixteen years old.

Sixteen when he met Bats. Remember that.

But that doesn’t tell us how long Jason was around before Joker killed him. And we’ve never gotten a clear-cut answer on that. We all know that Bruce trained each and every Robin for quite awhile before he deemed them combat ready. U.S. Army Basic Combat Training (BCT) is nine weeks, Air Force is six weeks with one week of processing, while U.S. Marine Corp training is 12 weeks and four days of processing. I feel like Bruce developed his own time frame based on U.S. military branch times it had to be at least a couple years.

One year to settle into everything that the life of a being the son of Gotham’s most prominent billionaire entailed. Maybe a year of actual training because let’s face it two and a half months isn’t going to be enough. (12 weeks = 2 ½ months.) And then a probationary year of actual Robin work.

Three years. Remember that.

There’s a lot of speculation around Jason’s tenure as Robin. We all know that his tenure didn’t last as long as it was supposed to since he died but we need to know how long that time frame was. Some people say two years; citing age difference in relation to other characters. In N52 RHATO Jason said he was Robin for at least a year. We have nothing on this from Rebirth so far. It makes more sense for his tenure as Robin to be two years rather than one.

Why two? Well, that’s easier than you might think. The Dynamic Duo needs the time to adjust to working with one another. They need the time to learn from each other as well as with each other. To grow better as a pair, as a team, and all that because Bruce isn’t working with Dick anymore. A year is a long time but not as long as you might think in the grand scheme of things.

Two years. Remember that.

Back in 1988 when DC killed Jason for the first time (which started the chain reaction of killing him over and over again with each new revamping) we actually see Jason’s death certificate. And how old was he when he died on April 27th, 1988?

Fifteen.

Rebirth Jason has already surpassed the age of his previous incarnation’s death. So why would he be the same age after coming back? Why would be that same eighteen/nineteen/twenty-year-old? Yes, I know that one year isn’t that much of a difference. But I’m not done with Rebirth Jason yet.

We know, from Lobdell’s previous RHATO run, that the dip in the Lazarus Pit aged Jason. He was fifteen when he went in and around eighteen when he came out. Or he could be nineteen. Possibly twenty. So that’s a three-five year age difference.

Three to five years. Remember that.

Ok. Back to Rebirth Jason. We have seen Jason in a bar a couple of times. Once with the helmet on and once with the helmet off. The scene where he’s in a bar with his helmet off is from issue #8 and is far more important. He’s not just in a bar. He’s drinking in a bar.

Legal drinking age in the U.S. is 21. Remember that.

Most bars, if not all, card the patrons when they order. Even if they appear to be of legal drinking age. Why? Because that’s the law. And I know some of you would say If someone walks into your bar with guns and a mask on wouldn’t you serve them a drink no matter how old they were? And he’s in Gotham after all so they’re used to that kinda thing. Well, first of all, we don’t know if Jason wore his mask as he walked into the bar. All we see that Jason is sitting at the counter and his mask is laying on it.

But there is no clear distinction on whether or not he wore it as he entered the bar and ordered. He most likely would’ve been carded.

And remember this little quote from Issue #4: Have to remember every trick I learned in every therapy session I had in Arkham. What did Dr. Quinzel say? “If you can’t talk to me, talk to the wall, a pillow, anything…”

Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Jason not only went there but spent time with Harley when she was a doctor instead of an inmate. (This could be a reference to The Arkham Knight but I highly doubt that.) I think that the above quote is saying exactly what its saying. Jason spent time in Arkham with Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Which he did before in N52. But since Rebirth is a whole new timeline it can’t be just a N52 reference either. Jason spent time in Arkham in this current timeline as well.

That also adds something to what his age is at the start of Rebirth doesn’t it?

The question that remains is: How much time? I’m going to say at least a year. Maybe more. The way the first line reads makes me think it was more than just a few weeks. More than a couple months. He’s spent enough time with Harleen to learn what methods she was using on him. To not only learn those methods but well enough to be able to properly apply them to other people. That being said I think Jason was in Arkham for two or three years. Let’s say three just to be safe because things take time.

Three years. Remember that.

(Side note: Jason’s time at Arkham would fall right before the start of Rebirth. As Rebirth starts Jason’s already been Red Hood for some time. He lost Bruce’s trust through his violent methods and then I’m thinking that Bruce confronted Jason early on and sent him to Arkham to get the help he needed. That patched things up between the two enough for Bruce to work with Jason again.)

Do you remember everything I asked you to?

Sixteen when he met Batman. Three years of training. Two years as Robin. Aged three to five years from The Lazarus Pit. Three years in Arkham. And he has to be at least twenty-one.

Add all that up and Jason’s at least twenty-seven in Rebirth. Possibly twenty-nine.

That’s a pretty big jump from eighteen. So what’s wrong with aging him a little bit more? Especially when we have an…

Older Batman:

We all know that the Bruce Wayne/Batman of the DCEU is 50.

Most of the time, in the comics, Bruce looks to be about in his early thirties. This would make the older Batkids somewhere in their early twenties but we’ve already said that Jason is usually depicted as being eighteen in the comics. Sometimes he makes it up to twenty, but, never really any older than that.

Now with a thirty-year-old Bruce Wayne this makes sense. Does it make sense for a fifty-year-old Bruce? No. It does not.

Thirty to fifty is a twenty year difference that you would have to then also apply to the rest of the Batfam if you’re applying it to Bruce. Which would make Jason how old exactly if he was just eighteen?

Thirty-eight years old.

But if we go off his 27/29 Rebirth age then making him almost 40 is way too old. Thirty-five, though, would be perfect. Making Jason 35 in his first DCEU appearance makes quite a lot of sense. It makes sense with an older Bruce. Thirty-five is old enough to give him plenty of enough time to actually do the things he does to become the Red Hood. Gives him the time he needs to establish the fact that he’s a vigilante. The time he needs to make his way back to Gotham. Time he needs to decide to carry out his revenge.

He doesn’t get enough time if he’s only eighteen or twenty. And having an older Jason Todd is great especially when young superheroes are...

Overdone:

I don’t about all y’all but I’m extremely tired of superheroes always being in the early-mid twenties age range. For comics that age range makes more sense because these characters are meant to appeal to people of that age. And teen superheroes are made to appeal to younger audiences.

All these twenty-something-year-olds feels overdone. (And not just in the superhero genre but that’s not what we’re here to talk about.)

Everyone acts like these characters can stay the same age forever and that it’s okay. It is. For the comics. Its fine for these characters to stay around the same age for revamps in comic canon since comics, and their characters, are supposed to be timeless and appeal to all ages. But since superhero movie are trying to have a more realistic feel to them the twenty-year-old superhero takes away from that added realism.

A thirty-five year old Jason Todd would add more.

Everyone also acts like young superheroes don’t get enough time in the limelight. But just because we don’t see a lot of live-action youngins doesn’t mean they don’t get their fair share of exposure.

X-Men is all about teen superheroes. May I also direct your attention to Young Justice (which currently getting a third season) which is all about teen superheroes doing their own thing? Or what about DC Super Hero Girls which takes every single adult female character and de-ages them into high school teens? Teen Titans and Teen Titans Go? Power Puff Girls? Every single cartoon or movie centered on Spider-Man because for some unknown reason Marvel can never age Peter past teen years. And Ultimate Spider-Man de-aged many adult superheroes into teens as well.

Kick-Ass’s main character, Dave Lizewski, is a teenager who sets out to become a real-life superhero. Chris D’Amico, one of the villains is also a teenager. Hit-Girl, the other main hero, is only eleven. And in the sequel Kick-Ass 2 the MCs from the first movie form a team with other teen heroes and the main villain is the still Chris D’Amico from the first Kick-Ass. (FYI Kick-Ass is based off the comic series of the same name.)

That’s quite enough exposure of teen/kid heroes, right? But that’s not all. Even non-comic book super powered people are more often kids or teens.

Chronicle is a movie all about ordinary kids who develop superpowers and set out to become heroes. Sky High, also a movie, surrounded a flying school for super-powered kids. Three out of five of the MCs in The Incredibles were children. (And, yes, I counted Jack-Jack.) Eleven from Stranger Things. Almost every character in The Darkest Minds book series, which is being turned into a movie, is a teenager with some sort of superpower. The movie reboot of Power Rangers still centers on teenagers in high school. (I don’t remember if the Power Rangers comics existed first or the TV show but I’m pretty sure the movie is based off the TV show so I put it here.)

The sidekick is always a kid. On many occasions the superheroes are kids. The grown-up sidekick turned hero is always a young adult. And all the above mentioned shows and movies don’t challenge this trend in any way shape or form.

Making Jason Todd somewhere in his thirties would turn that trend on its head by making the sidekick-turned-hero character an actual adult. (And since we will be getting a Nightwing movie Dick will have to also be an adult. It wouldn’t really make much sense if Dick’s an adult and Jason’s not. Jason’s only been Red Hood when Dick is Nightwing, after all.) And who would be the best choice to play an older Jason?

Jensen Ackles:

Jensen has already played Jason in UTRH so he has experience playing him. Given the fact that he has this experience he would bring all that to a live-action portrayal. And bringing that experience would just make the portrayal all that much better. (It’s just like how movie franchise/TV actors just keep getting better as their character, you know?)

I know y’all are going to be like But they should give someone else a chance but do you really want to risk it? Do you really want to risk having such a beloved character getting a horrible portrayal? Do you really want a repeat of Leto’s Joker?

Let’s just say we take away his UTRH portrayal for a quick second here.

That still leaves us with an actor who has experience in portraying the kind of person Jason is. Experience which can only help his portrayal after all. Time and time again Jensen has played characters with deep-seated emotional and psychological issues. Most of which were never treated, or even addressed, and if they were treatment didn’t help. Characters like: Tom Hanniger, CJ, and Ben from My Bloody Valentine, Dawson’s Creek and Dark Angel respectively.

Jensen has loads of experience playing characters with an overwhelming need for parental, most of the time fatherly, approval as well. Characters like: Dean Winchester and Jason Teague from Supernatural and Smallville respectively. And almost all of these mentioned characters use more a violent approach to doing what needs to be done. (Including Alex McDowell, also from Dark Angel, whom I forgot to mention.)

Also he’s the right age. But, even if they don’t make Jason exactly thirty-five, Jensen could still be believable as someone in their late-twenties or early-thirties.

I’m not saying they need to cast Jensen I’m just saying it only makes sense to have Jason be in his 30s.