dappered | Off the Record

Off the Record

Now Dick is all for undercover operations. No one can ever say that Grayson isn't a team player. He is all for the playing on the team! But this is a new direction he never thought his life would take. At least he's still a handsome devil even in... in a skirt. He lifted it off a classmate from the locker rooms a few days earlier (that had been an adventure all its own). Underwear was easier to get on his own, especially when seeing the clerk's face. Hey, what can he say he's a very supportive and open-minded brother for his sick sister.

Dashing around in spandex from head to toe chronically, this skirt thing is a whole new sensation for him in the breezy bathroom air. It's all so open and revealing! Man, how do girls wear this? Every part of him feels exposed. And these panties are barely holding him together! He stands like a man too, and it ruins the whole image. Dick has to remember to pull his legs in, keep one bent at the knee with his foot pressed against his other heel. Much better. This time he keeps his shades off. Everyone likes a pair of baby blues and Dick's got ones that'll pull in any old pervert.

"Alright, I'm feeling it. Feeling the aster." Usually he doesn't need to pump himself up, but this isn't a usual mission. Hell, this isn't any kind of mission. It's nuts, completely reckless, but there's no one else who can pull it off. Not the other members and certainly not the Justice League. He's on his own to put this despicable pet ring out of business. Giving himself one last look in the mirror, he checks what little gear he can get away with bringing. He has a tranquilizing spray and a case for the drug once he gets his hands on a sample, both disguised as cosmetics.

Now it's just a matter of sneaking out, which is, of course, no problem at all. Neither Miss Martian nor Superboy is registered in any of the public spaces. Quietly, he sneaks out through the main entrance toward the zeta portals.

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[ Ever since his arrival, Superboy had been lectured up and down about the importance of not leaving Mount Justice unescorted. "Too dangerous," they'd said, which was patently untrue. "Too conspicuous," they'd said, which might have been slightly less untrue but made him chafe at the bit all the same. He hadn't gone along with this team thing just to trade one cage for another.

The others of course came and went; they had homes and families and civilian lives to return to. Even M'gaan had a relative and mentor to visit or train with. He was the only one that simply waited like an object on a shelf to be brought to life for a mission. He was meant to spend his time learning, but for someone used to knowledge being dumped directly into his brain it was slow going to read every page in a textbook or focus on a two hour movie. He listened to his teammates talk to each other, instead.

He's become so used to eavesdropping that it's second nature by now. Robin treads the lightest out of all of them (save for M'gaan when she flew, obviously) and he's taught himself to listen for the faint sounds of equipment. Robin is not the leader of their team but he seems to be the brains, suggesting training scenarios and what he liked to call "let's teach the babies how to be human" lessons, and he arms himself for solo missions at the mountain sometimes, on his mentor's business or his own. Superboy envies and resents that freedom.

Kaldur tells him quietly of his own adventures when he was new to the surface world. Robin and the boy named Wally take it for granted, and he tries not to dwell too long on their arrivals and departures.

This time, though, he hears unfamiliar sounds echoing through the base. Robin's barely there noises have turned into the click of heels and the swish of fabric, and at this hour of night all the other inhabitants of the mountain are sleeping (or at least, those that do sleep.) Superboy has been painstakingly instructed about circadian rhythms and something called "regular business hours," though it hardly seems fair if Robin is allowed out on his own at two am while he is told to wait for someone to wake up and escort him when he's restless at night.

He sets his jaw belligerently and strides into the "hall" where the gates and main computers are located, the words out of his mouth as an accusation even before he sees Robin. ]

Where are you going?

[ Aw nuts. He was so close! Dick stops dead in his tracks, unsure whether he can diffuse the situation with his back turned or not. Dick goes with turning around, his short skirt twirling freely around his hairless thighs. ]

Hey! SB. Shouldn't you be... Do you sleep? Maybe meditation's more your bag.

[ Avoiding the question like whoa. ]

[ He ignores that, narrowing his eyes down at him. Robin's pulse had jumped and Superboy has never seen him dressed that way-- he's fairly certain that uniforms with skirts like that are a dress code for girls.

Whatever he's doing, it's probably something he shouldn't.

Superboy crosses his arms and waits. ]

No? [ Not falling for it, huh? ] Alright... I'm going out with some classmates. Got a play to rehearse and it can't start without its damsel in distress! I'll be back tomorrow. [ Hopefully. ] Usual time, usual place.

It's two o'clock in the morning.

[ He's been told that's significant enough times by Robin himself to turn it back around now. ]

Huh. So it is... [ He remains silent for awhile, staring at Superboy. Then he finally pipes up again, ] Look, I don't really have time to bat this back and forth until I've got you spinning in some paradoxical loop that sends you back to your room. [ As entertaining as that might be. ] I've got a mission to finish. Go back to sleep, man.

We have training tomorrow.

[ Another thing that's been beaten into his head by sheer repetition, mandatory training that he isn't allowed to skip or shirk. Again, highly unlikely that the Batman would've given out a solo mission that would keep his protege from attending.

Not that Superboy cares or anything. ]

Believe me, Supes. This mission is a lot more important. People will keep getting hurt unless I stop it.

[ Then stop your whining and let him go! ]

Dressed in that?

[ buddy he is sixteen+ weeks old but he's not a total moron. ]

Yes! Dressed in this! It's... undercover work. Something the Justice League can't do, or the Team. It's up to me.

[ And the more you talk, the more late he'll be! So Dick turns around and starts walking, unashamed (for the most part). ]

[ FOLLOWING ALONG BEHIND HIM ]

I'll go with you.

[ Personal initiative is still a new thing to him outside of actual combat, and he knows that Robin specifically has been trained to handle missions that need a soft touch, but being told to go back to sleep while "people are getting hurt" irritates him. ]

Uhhh, slow your roll there, Tiger. Remember the part where I said only I could pull this off? I wasn't just tooting my own horn here. No one else fits the bill for this operation except me.

[ You'd be stopped at the door. Where he will then proceed to barge right on in with super human strength, and thus give him away. ]

You said people were getting hurt. You want me to stay here and just go back to bed?

[ SIGHING FOREVER! ] Yes, but I guess that's not gonna happen, is it? Alright. I don't exactly have time to brief you before we go. [ Which really sucks. Supes might blow it in two minutes when they enter the establishment. Now that he could blame the poor guy. Only a handful of weeks old and already he's going to learn about the wacky world of BDSM pet trade. ] But... You can be my bodyguard. That should work! Although, you'll, uh, have to lose the logo.

[ Dick points to his Superman shirt that may as well be fused to his torso. ]

[ Easily done. He glances down at his shirt, frowning, and then hauls it off and turns it inside out. ]

[ Oh Supes, you one trick pony. Dick grabs something else from his waist under his skirt and hands him his trademark shades. ]

Wear these, too. What's a bodyguard without shades? Now, your role is simple alright? You're going to act as my "protector", looking as mean an intimidating as you can. Just use your resting bitchface and--Yeah, that one. Keep that up! No talking about who you are or who I am, okay? My codename's Sparrow and you--Hmm, you need a codename, too...

Pick one for me.

[ Shades, check. ]

Where are we going?

Johnson it is. A gentleman's club called The Gilded Lily...

[ The name alone makes his skin crawl. He tells Superboy what he can about the mission in the limited time they have. His top priority is a sample of some new synthetic drug that they've been vaguely alluding to as a training technique that makes their pets unwaveringly loyal. It's been having devastating ripple effects in the real world. Then he needs to gather evidence on the pets being trained to find a connection with the string of missing persons that's been rising slowly over the last few years.

It's Dick's duty to infiltrate their ranks as a new pet looking for a Master. Once he has a sample of the drug, it'll be up to Superboy to help him leave or escape (whichever way this night turns out). Honestly, Dick is a little relieved to have backup. There's no way he could have asked any of the others to help him drag his cum-smeared ass out of that establishment. None of them would allow him to go in the first place, and any who would, well, they'd look at him differently for the rest of his life. Superboy wouldn't. Hopefully.

Once they arrive, it's easy to get inside. The name Sparrow's already on their list (ahh, the wonders of hacking) and no one thinks twice about a bodyguard. Dick is prime real estate, you can't let something like that run free. They get past the first checkpoint, then the second. Led to an uninspiring blank room, another door opens up on request and allows them to enter. This is where the serious crazy is. Dimly lit and full of the smell of tobacco and sex, Dick leads them both confidently through the entrance, past the coat check and into the first public show room. Eyes from all over are already on him.

Perfect. ]

[ The more Superboy hears about this plan the less he likes it, since it seems to boil down to Robin allowing a bunch of sexually deviant adult men to treat him like a toy without any resistance, which would give him away instantly. Superboy was to sit and watch for a signal before acting, even if Robin seemed to be in danger or in pain.

It seems like something Aqualad ought to be here for, as team leader and also the most level-headed out of all of them, but Robin had insisted that they couldn't contact the rest of the team. Superboy bit down on his protests and jerked his head every time Robin seemed to want an acknowledgment. He'd done his homework on the location and the potential threats, it seemed like the worst thing that could be thrown at them would be ordinary thugs with guns. Superboy could handle guns. If he had to he could take Robin and simply go through the nearest wall.

Despite his misgivings there seem to be plenty of other guys just like him hanging around the club, only there to look tough and stand at someone else's shoulder. No one addresses him directly, and even the fact the he's in a t shirt rather than a black suit isn't enough to raise any eyebrows given how half the other patrons are dressed. There's skin everywhere, men and women in expensive clothes or scraps of fabric or things that seem like costumes. Some of them aren't old enough to be rightly called men and women, like Robin, and it doesn't take any acting ability at all to glare at the people staring hungrily in Robin's wake. He stands closer to the other boy without prompting and follows in his shadow when he takes the lead, navigating the club like an old hand.

He can already see what Robin was talking about that he'll have to force himself not to react to. There are soft (and not so soft) cries coming from some of the corners, people wielding crops and whips and other restraints. Leashes, collars, blindfolds. Nothing that could hold him, of course, but they make him irritable anyway. The idea that someone would willingly subject themselves to being collared, being controlled puts his back up. It reminds him of Cadmus. ]

[ And this is why Dick didn't want anyone coming with him. But the damage is done, so he may as well take advantage of Superboy and get him acclimated as fast as possible. So Dick leads them both to an open lounge area with a free couch. He takes in the open spaces around them, pulling Supes in the most advantageous spot to watch everything.

Then without preamble, he slides into Superboy's lap with eerie grace. Bare legs bracketing his waist, his skinny ass is shamelessly presented to the rest of the room. ]

Put your hands on me... [ His lips are right against Superboy's ear, not that it needs to be with his impressive hearing. Still, that's the point isn't it? To be provocative and wanted in someone else's lap. ] Act like you know how to touch me. We have to get you used to this, alright? [ Dick wraps his arms around his team member's thick neck, pulling himself closer and spreading his thighs wider. ] Because these pervs are going to be touching me [ He starts sliding a hand down Superboy's neck all the way to his hard chest. Then his lips play against cheek as best a farce for seduction as he can muster. He's done his research, but he hasn't exactly had a chance to practice. ] The way I'm touching you.

[ He doesn't jolt under Robin's hands but only just barely, controlling his instinctive flinch at an unexpected movement. Most of his experience with physical contact has been during training where Robin and Kid Flash both delight in running rings around him, scoring points for every touch he can't stop or keep up with. Sometimes a hand falls on his shoulder, or one of the others brushes by him, or sits down on the couch next to him, but the casual intimacy that normal humans (and humanoids, to include Kaldur and M'gaan) have between them makes him uncomfortable when he gets thinking too hard about it, and he steps back when he's given a choice.

Sometimes he isn't given a choice. He's had to ride in vehicles with someone squished against his side, he's had to carry one of his teammates out of the line of fire. He's let Robin use him as a vaulting platform. In the moment, the proximity doesn't bother him so much. It's only when he stops to think that he starts feeling awkward and overbearing in his own body, surrounded by creatures that are infinitely more fragile.

So he doesn't jump up and dump Robin out of his lap, although his eyes do go wide behind the sunglasses for a moment. Cadmus had given him an education, of sorts, but nothing useful in this vein, so he rolls his eyes to the side and checks out the behavior of some of their neighbors to awkwardly mimic. The ridiculous thing Robin's wearing is flimsy, silky, under his fingers and totally wrong for the armored costume he normally spars in, and the bare skin he can feel is warm and soft. ]

You didn't say anything about touching, [he whispers back, trying not to sound alarmed.]

I also didn't say anything about having a partner in this, but here you are. [ Maybe this'll teach Superboy not to volunteer so willy-nilly next time. ] Just keep the chalance to a minimum and don't turn off that angry look. You're an old hat at this, bored of it really. You're not here to be played with, you're here to let others play with me. Got it?

[ Dick slowly turns in Supes' arms, putting his rear right between the Kryptonian's thighs while his feet remain on the couch. That way everyone can see up his skirt. That's the point. He looks like a little boy in daddy's lap. ]

[ They're getting plenty of looks now. Speculative, jealous, interested, even a few sneers of disgust. A man passing by drifts a hand across Robin's ankle and Superboy can hear the increase of his pulse. Robin could shatter the man's jaw with a single kick but here he has to allow it, has to smile and simper and melt into Superboy's arms.

He doesn't like it. He doesn't like any of this, and ducks his face sullenly into the side of Robin's neck, putting his mouth on his skin, both hands cupping Robin's chest like some of the other men seem to be doing to the girls in their laps. Another boy to their right, older but still slender and delicate, sits face to face with a heavyset man in a suit and squeals in sudden distress as the slap of a leather thong comes down on his skin, and then moans theatrically as the man's fingers disappear between his thighs. The scent of sex, sweat and fresh blood is hot and thick in the air over the haze of cigar smoke and brandy fumes. ]

That doesn't look like play.

[ The boy's cheeks are streaked with tears, his ass and back a cherry red from the kiss of the leather. His eyes are closed and his mouth open in apparent pleasure for whatever's going on between his legs, and as Superboy watches the man in the suit takes the boy's chin roughly and pulls him in for a crushing kiss, guiding him like he had no will of his own.

The kiss makes his cheeks flame hot for no reason he can fathom, and he shifts uncomfortably beneath Robin. ]

Well [ Dick has to swallow first before he can speak, his own heart speeding up from the sight of that boy. Soon enough that'll be him and it sounds thrilling, but there's a thread of terror there too. Sex is something personal, that's what everyone says, that's what everyone knows about it. This, here, is just shy of being violating, and his first experience with all of it will be in public with strangers he despises. ] Some of it is more obvious than others.

[ He is glad Superboy is here now. For as much as he doesn't understand, he is being supportive. Comforting, even. ]

Pain's a part of it sometimes. And trust. Trusting your partner won't go any further than you want them to. [ Of course, all of this is simply regurgitation on Dick's part. He's never experienced any of this, only read about it online or in books. Talking out loud about it does help, though. ] Alright, gotta find a target...

[ Not all of these members will have access to the drug. Dick needs to find those with influence and money. They could be anyone, but he looks for those who don't need to flaunt their pets so brazenly. Each one he waits to catch their attention, pulling his knees up higher to show off his thighs and a bulge that is most definitely not girlish. One at least takes the bait, carefully rising up from his seat like this exchange between them is beneath him. He's as good an actor as Dick.

The man comes over and looks directly at Superboy, not him and asks if Dick is his boy. Now, it's presumptuous of the pet to speak for its Master, but Superboy isn't his Master. It should be okay and better than anything Supes will come up with on his own. ]

No, I'm not his. He's just a bodyguard. [ He gives Supes a bit of a condescending pat to the head before turning his big blue eyes back on the man. He isn't unattractive exactly, simply a little overweight in his middle age. ]

Your Master lets you come here by yourself to play? [ The man sounds rather offended by the idea, but Dick sets him straight. ]

Oh, I don't have one of those! [ Something grabs his attention elsewhere while he straightens out his skirt like a coy flirt. ] Not that I couldn't be persuaded...

[ The look he gives Dick is downright predatory. If he didn't already know what the guy wanted from him, he would be ready for a killing strike. Instead he stretches out his hand and lets the man pull him off Superboy's lap and to his side. His hands are big against Dick, even bigger than Supes'. Led back to the man's own comfortable corner, Dick waits properly by the stranger's side until he is beckoned closer. That's when he climbs into his lap like he had Superboy's. The man is talking to him, asking Dick about himself. Dick responds almost shyly at times, his hand fiddling with the buttons on the older man's shirt. Then his big hand slides up his skinny rear, pushing the skirt up in the process as he fondles him. Dick makes a noise in the back of his throat and it's no forgery. He's wanted to know what it would feel like for awhile and so far he isn't disappointed. ]

[ His brow knits as he mulls that over, trying and mostly failing to reconcile the idea with his own limited experience. Pain and trust were part of training, he understood, but not in the sense where you stood still and allowed someone to hurt you because you trusted them. You were supposed to trust a teammate to not hurt you, unless they were being controlled, in which case they would prefer that you disable or free them as swiftly as possible. A controlled teammate wouldn’t appreciate being allowed to inflict damage.

Watching grown men manhandle their young, apparently helpless playthings doesn’t seem like trust at all, although most of them are putting on a display of enjoying it or even begging for their tormentors to continue. The sexual gratification looks one-sided as well, except where two-- pets, he supposes, that’s what Robin called them-- are putting on a show for the benefit of an audience, toying with each other teasingly. They seem desperate for attention, and a couple even glance his way repeatedly for some reason he can’t fathom.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he’s saved from having to form any kind of reply to that or to the man asking if he’s Robin’s master by Robin himself, pursuing the mission and engaging the mark with the kind of dedication that Superboy grudgingly admired. Kaldur and Robin were usually the ones to count on to remember mission goals when the rest of them got distracted or separated.

The mark wastes no time taking advantage of Robin’s size, pulling him into his lap. Superboy has never really seen his teammate as small before, at least not in the context of how tiny he is compared to an average adult male. Everyone seems small to Superboy, who is himself smaller than Superman, but Robin had never come across as vulnerable or fragile despite barely coming up to his chest. In training he was always fast, controlled, and easily more capable than Kid Flash. Now the only thing he can see is how tiny his wrists are in the mark’s grasp, how easily he pushes and pulls Robin into the position he wants.

He grits his teeth at the groping and glances away, catching that small noise. It had sounded… unfeigned, inasmuch as he knew what real and faked moans sounded like, but Robin was trained in infiltration and other sneaky shit. Maybe this was old hat to him. Maybe he went out and did this every weekend with his mentor, who knew. ]

[ Dick certainly doesn't mind. He leans back into it squirming like he's mildly trepidatious about the whole thing, and there's no need to pretend. The innocent act is no ruse, much to the man's delight as he tells him to move slow. He's been trained as a pet, but never touched. It's a comment that makes the hand on his ass squeeze tighter, slipping his big fingers between the silky valley of his cheeks. The soft fabric pressing against his more intimate parts has Dick keening a little.

The man grips him tighter to listen to that voice waver again, the other wrapping around his neck gently and manhandling him like a ragdoll. This close, Dick doesn't need to talk very loudly to get his attention. His lips are practically touching the other man's as he talks about ownership and devotion. He's heard about the staggering rates of companionship here, how they never waver. He would like to feel that kind of power.

It gets that cocky grin off the stranger's face. He's certainly considering something, but Dick pretends he can't see it. He's too busy wriggling and mewling in his lap to be any threat. But he knows something's coming, and after a minute of petting and touching, he asks Dick stand up and not to wander off too far while he takes a call. ]

Score. [ It's said just quietly enough to have Superboy hear him. Looks like he might be on the right track. If all goes well the man'll be back with a dose of this drug. But he can't put all his chips on table. He has to make sure he catches the attention of someone with the gravity to get him drugged and contracted. This is their one and only shot, so he keeps looking. The man never said he couldn't keep playing around.

Straightening out his skirt, Dick continues looking for action. It's not hard to find. A few coy looks and others are crowding around him, some with their pets. One already has his hand up his skirt, stroking his thigh idly. Two of the men are talking among themselves as if Dick isn't even there, but he's the topic of conversation. They talk about doing things to him, pulling down his panties and spanking him. Letting their pets jack him off. Fingering him until he cries. It's all taken with a straight face, but it's clear Dick is affected by the talk. His blue eyes are blown out, his face is flushed, and his heart is beating like a trapped animal. Would they actually do it is the question. ]

[ and now they wait. superboy practices his stony face, folding his arms across his chest to keep his hands from clenching every time someone touches robin. he can hear what they're saying and he can also hear the effect it's having on robin's heartbeat, all but galloping now. what he can't tell is if it's simple adrenaline or anxiety, excitement or fear. robin doesn't break character once, looking and sounding every inch the helpless pet they think he is.

it makes him wonder how much of it really is acting, and he suddenly wishes he'd thought to ask robin about how experienced he was before they got here. implanted knowledge or not, even he knows that this is no place to offer up real vulnerabilities. every predator in this place would swoop down if they even suspected that he was a virgin, much less someone who looked and was dressed like robin.

but that's why superboy is here, he reminds himself uncertainly. to make sure nothing bad happens. he has to trust that robin knows what he's doing and what he can handle. it's his job just to watch.

so that's what he does, leaving off his pretense of looking at anyone else in the room and keeping his gaze firmly on robin.

the man stroking his thigh wears a gray suit and has wandering hands, eventually sliding up robin's leg under the skirt to cup and fondle him through his thin panties. he wants to see that pretty skirt tented, he says to his companion. check and see if there's a cock at all underneath the satin. ]

[ This high up on Gotham's dark skyline the wind is cutting right through worn holes in what's left of his uniform. Perched as he is, Robin can smell the scabbing blood across an open knee. No dignified cape would be caught dead in something this rag tag, but it's all he has for now. Alfred tried to toss it discretely, but Dick talked him out of it. He claimed he wanted to keep it for sentimental reasons, but really he still needed something to hunt in.

It's eerie to see how much and how little has changed from one world into another. It's the small things that have culminated into a brighter, more vivacious Gotham city. They both are molded by the fear of Batman, but his was a toxic fear that did little to build any beauty. Then again it's only him--was only him and Batman. This one has all of his Robins helping to the cull the criminal underworld. They seem to be doing okay. Then again he's only met himself, so of course he knows that one is doing their job well. But this "Red Hood" is another matter. He's a replacement for the original, just what does that say about him? ]

[ it says less about jason that it does about batman, who was the one who offered the position to a brat he caught stealing tires off the batmobile. saving people complex and all that. he'd wanted to save jason from himself, and hadn't succeeded.

bruce had let dick make the call, which was probably smart because jason had nothing to say to bruce wayne or batman. the details had been sparse but impossible to ignore: alternate reality, younger versions, a robin that needed help. and as much as jason would like to deny it, he wouldn't turn his back entirely on any of the little birds.

the message had implied that there was going to be a rendezvous arranged, preferably somewhere neutral. jason isn't expecting a boy in a shredded robin costume to simply show up one day in his territory, interrupting his patrol. he doesn't know if the kid is trying to do some early recon (smart, actually) or he ran off on his own in an arbitrary direction or if he's here to challenge jason. he thinks about contacting dick, and doesn't. first impressions are important.

the boy... looks like dick. the old dick. replica perfect, everything jason's ever seen from the old files and pictures of robin the boy wonder. it's eerily like stepping back in time. what little is left of the costume looks accurate, too, right down to the green panties and pixie boots, and jason knows the kid has to be freezing.

he could ambush him, he supposes. he could pull that shock and awe bullshit, drop down behind him and scare the crap out of him. let him know what he's dealing with. he's still mulling it over when three punks manage to corner a guy in an alley down below, closing in on him with pipes and brass knuckles. looks like a gang dispute rather than an innocent citizen getting mugged, which makes no difference to jason. the gangs in this territory work for him. he swoops down to get involved, figuring the boy will either get his money's worth for a show or possibly jump in to join him. ]

[ Shock and awe is a little wasted on him. After his first "car ride" with the Batman and the several days starving and scrounging around in the darkness of his cold cave, Robin's a little over anything too shocking. His partner is a lot less predictable when it comes to his lessons in horror, and it's made Robin less sensitive and sympathetic to other people.

Case-in-point? The men below. He follows quietly down the building's fire exit to get a better angle. His concern isn't for the victim, but the men preying on him. Usually with Batman at his side he doesn't need to worry so much about his devil may care approach to crime fighting. He's usually a convenient distraction or finisher since he's never been formally trained by him. But now he has other skills. They started as an attempt to win back his good graces, but that ship has sailed. Maybe he can wow the spandex off the new guy instead.

Robin waits in the shadows as they grow bigger, sucking up every particle of light in the alley. It bleeds across the perpetrators like a thick ink. Only one notices right away and tries to back out of the yawning mouth that's swallowing the alley. The others are too busy keeping the Red Hood at bay to see what's coming. ]

[ jason might not have noticed the shifting shadows if he hadn’t been waiting for something to happen. that was definitely left out of the report, and he recognizes shit he doesn’t want to fuck with when he sees it. magic is still a little bit of a sore spot to him, although that might be a lingering echo of bruce’s dislike for it.

he kicks one of the thugs neatly into the growing shadows and uses him as a springboard, firing off a line to pull himself up to the fire escape before the ground is entirely swallowed up. he crouches there, watching, while the thugs figure out that something’s wrong and start yelling in fear. jason isn’t about to offer an escape to any of these assholes, but he does want to see what the new kid has in mind. magic-users are unpredictable. ]

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