[ shhh he had to realize that one cardboard box in the corner wasn't there anymore and not just because he kicked it out of the way
sulkily, ]
The batteries are probably dead by now.
Why the hell did you feel the need to steal a box marked 'bullshit, to recycle' anyway.
[ all the networks that the armor-- well, the helmet-- was hooked up to don't exist here, so it's not particularly valuable aside from being military grade etc. ]
[ so the thing about having a dimensional gate implanted in the middle of your torso by magic space wizards is that, while in theory it did fulfill jason's wish for ~freedom~, it's actually a monkey's paw bullshit thing. he didn't actually want a dimensional gate. he just wanted to never have to worry about being imprisoned ever again, but he didn't say that, so now he's got a fucking dimensional gate instead and apparently a responsibility to use it.
not that anybody put it in those words. tim didn't put it in those words, when they talked very cautiously about what the fuck jason ought to do with himself now that he's nominally retired. picking out a new name and new outfit and diving back into the field-- in a new reality, where there's a whole Bat clan that doesn't know him or necessarily want an interdimensional intruder here, including a jason todd as red hood already running around-- just seemed too daunting.
he's gotten cowardly in his old age. or maybe he finally realized that a certain reluctance to engage with shitshows is a healthy warning sign instead of something to be stepped on. he doesn't want to have a big emotional fight with a new dick grayson or a new bruce wayne or his own evil twin, and for once in his life he's got the choice available to simply... not. it's been difficult to learn how to not do things, to stop and reconsider and reconsider again, but also he's had a lot of free time lately.
it's been thoroughly annoying to realize that every shitty thing he ever did, every thing he thought he had to do when he felt backed into a corner, was probably not actually something he had to do. being able to simply fuck off under any circumstances really gives new meaning to the idea of refusing to engage. the hit da bricks meme really had it right.
there's also such a thing as being too avoidant, but he's been leaving that up to tim's judgement. it's nice to have someone in his corner for once; not somebody he's paying or somebody out to fuck him over the second he lets his guard down or somebody that needs him for an agenda. he would have done a better job of taking over gotham if he'd had a partner.
tim smacked him for mentioning that, of course. he'd also cruelly vetoed all of jason's half-baked plans to bounce back into his home reality just long enough to kidnap dickie and get him out of that shithole.
'kidnapping someone is a commitment,' he'd said, while jason pretended not to sulk. 'come back when you've got a real plan for what happens after.'
anyway, even if he's not fully decided about going back to the cape life, it hasn't stopped him from acting as tim's personal teleportation device. that still doesn't count as engaging. it's easier to be a ghost here, leaving no mark on the world, than to contemplate the idea of staying anywhere for the long haul and having to make some real decisions.
all the good names are already taken, anyway.
what he's really supposed to be doing is getting sane enough to go back and check on his home reality, but the goddamned shiny ball in his chest is also highly reactive to panic, so he hasn't managed to actually do that.
he's working up to it. that's the excuse, anyway. he was supposed to practice a little, hop a couple of dimensions until he got the hang of it. tim's suggestion.
tim hadn't suggested that jason get involved with any of those realities, but in hindsight maybe he'd been kind of stupid about that. tim didn't give nearly the same kind of shit about timeline integrity and canon events that everybody else did, and jason knew that, because tim had told him that to his face.
anyway, maybe jason did a rescue or two. killed a joker or two, in a way that would leave no trace. from a distance, calculated, rigidly avoiding the self-destructive urge to go for a direct confrontation. he used to be marginally good at the mercenary life before he decided, like an infant, that tanks and direct assaults were more fun. that everything needed to be a show of dominance.
maybe, in a couple dozen realities, he made sure a little baby robin was never introduced to a crowbar. even rescued nightwing, once or twice. he pulled one evil twin right out of the damned lazarus pit, still wet and naked and glowing faintly green, and dropped him in the batcave.
he doesn't stay. he still prefers to think of himself as a ghost-- an anonymous hand in the dark, pushing someone out of the way of an oncoming truck. he doesn't really want to stop and talk to anyone about it. what's he going to do, explain that he's just passing through on his own journey of self-discovery etc?
timelines are a bitch, though. sometimes he's so early or so late that he doesn't know what to do with himself. sometimes he finds a gotham and it's so fucking different from the pattern that he doesn't dare interfere.
this gotham, for instance, is one of the problem timelines. he knows immediately that he's too late for the jason of this world; batman and robin still make headlines, but there are newspapers in the library archive talking about the death of bruce wayne's second ward.
he bounces over to where he expects to find the league of assassins, but it's the wrong location. a little different detail between dimensions. which means crazytown could be anywhere, but is probably about to launch his grand return to gotham, if the dates match up.
jason's never been in a position to interfere with that. he's not entirely sure he should-- but he remembers the scar on tim's throat, the way tim tried to breeze over the attack on the tower like it wasn't a big deal.
he could stand to get in the way of that shit. let crazytown pick on a robin his own size until he figured out who he was actually mad at. ]
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no subject
okay, so do it.
electrocute me.
i'll wait.
no subject
sulkily, ]
The batteries are probably dead by now.
Why the hell did you feel the need to steal a box marked 'bullshit, to recycle' anyway.
[ all the networks that the armor-- well, the helmet-- was hooked up to don't exist here, so it's not particularly valuable aside from being military grade etc. ]
in which AK ruins the Grand Plan
not that anybody put it in those words. tim didn't put it in those words, when they talked very cautiously about what the fuck jason ought to do with himself now that he's nominally retired. picking out a new name and new outfit and diving back into the field-- in a new reality, where there's a whole Bat clan that doesn't know him or necessarily want an interdimensional intruder here, including a jason todd as red hood already running around-- just seemed too daunting.
he's gotten cowardly in his old age. or maybe he finally realized that a certain reluctance to engage with shitshows is a healthy warning sign instead of something to be stepped on. he doesn't want to have a big emotional fight with a new dick grayson or a new bruce wayne or his own evil twin, and for once in his life he's got the choice available to simply... not. it's been difficult to learn how to not do things, to stop and reconsider and reconsider again, but also he's had a lot of free time lately.
it's been thoroughly annoying to realize that every shitty thing he ever did, every thing he thought he had to do when he felt backed into a corner, was probably not actually something he had to do. being able to simply fuck off under any circumstances really gives new meaning to the idea of refusing to engage. the hit da bricks meme really had it right.
there's also such a thing as being too avoidant, but he's been leaving that up to tim's judgement. it's nice to have someone in his corner for once; not somebody he's paying or somebody out to fuck him over the second he lets his guard down or somebody that needs him for an agenda. he would have done a better job of taking over gotham if he'd had a partner.
tim smacked him for mentioning that, of course. he'd also cruelly vetoed all of jason's half-baked plans to bounce back into his home reality just long enough to kidnap dickie and get him out of that shithole.
'kidnapping someone is a commitment,' he'd said, while jason pretended not to sulk. 'come back when you've got a real plan for what happens after.'
anyway, even if he's not fully decided about going back to the cape life, it hasn't stopped him from acting as tim's personal teleportation device. that still doesn't count as engaging. it's easier to be a ghost here, leaving no mark on the world, than to contemplate the idea of staying anywhere for the long haul and having to make some real decisions.
all the good names are already taken, anyway.
what he's really supposed to be doing is getting sane enough to go back and check on his home reality, but the goddamned shiny ball in his chest is also highly reactive to panic, so he hasn't managed to actually do that.
he's working up to it. that's the excuse, anyway. he was supposed to practice a little, hop a couple of dimensions until he got the hang of it. tim's suggestion.
tim hadn't suggested that jason get involved with any of those realities, but in hindsight maybe he'd been kind of stupid about that. tim didn't give nearly the same kind of shit about timeline integrity and canon events that everybody else did, and jason knew that, because tim had told him that to his face.
anyway, maybe jason did a rescue or two. killed a joker or two, in a way that would leave no trace. from a distance, calculated, rigidly avoiding the self-destructive urge to go for a direct confrontation. he used to be marginally good at the mercenary life before he decided, like an infant, that tanks and direct assaults were more fun. that everything needed to be a show of dominance.
maybe, in a couple dozen realities, he made sure a little baby robin was never introduced to a crowbar. even rescued nightwing, once or twice. he pulled one evil twin right out of the damned lazarus pit, still wet and naked and glowing faintly green, and dropped him in the batcave.
he doesn't stay. he still prefers to think of himself as a ghost-- an anonymous hand in the dark, pushing someone out of the way of an oncoming truck. he doesn't really want to stop and talk to anyone about it. what's he going to do, explain that he's just passing through on his own journey of self-discovery etc?
timelines are a bitch, though. sometimes he's so early or so late that he doesn't know what to do with himself. sometimes he finds a gotham and it's so fucking different from the pattern that he doesn't dare interfere.
this gotham, for instance, is one of the problem timelines. he knows immediately that he's too late for the jason of this world; batman and robin still make headlines, but there are newspapers in the library archive talking about the death of bruce wayne's second ward.
he bounces over to where he expects to find the league of assassins, but it's the wrong location. a little different detail between dimensions. which means crazytown could be anywhere, but is probably about to launch his grand return to gotham, if the dates match up.
jason's never been in a position to interfere with that. he's not entirely sure he should-- but he remembers the scar on tim's throat, the way tim tried to breeze over the attack on the tower like it wasn't a big deal.
he could stand to get in the way of that shit. let crazytown pick on a robin his own size until he figured out who he was actually mad at. ]