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[private log] welcome to the jason-cave
who: jason todd and miles morales
what: miles is finally going to meet his new roommate, who has been making scary ass noises in their apartment since thoughtformed.dreamwidth.org/1063382.html
when: after the halloween event
where: apartment west 301
warnings: uh… ruthless destruction of drywall? avert your eyes
There's been loud, obnoxious noises coming from the apartment for a few days now. It might seem like solid planning that the apartment flanking West 301 is empty but, frankly, Jason doesn't give a shit about pissing off neighbors, meaning the volume and hours of his construction project would have stayed pretty much the same regardless of whether or not someone was actually living next door.
Jason's been busy making the apartment look like someone with a sledgehammer and a grudge the size of Texas had been let loose inside (because that's actually exactly what happened.) There's crazy amounts of debris littering the floors - pieces of the wall broken off in chunks in a variety of sizes, miscellaneous tools that include the sad remains of the first sledgehammer Jason had stolen, messy bundles of cord that have been stripped from the walls, half-empty takeout containers that are just beginning to smell bad - and Jason is making himself busy adding even more to what's already covering nearly the entire living room floor.
Anyone walking in right now would see Jason beating the crap out of the wall dividing his room (yeah, he already picked his room, sucker) from the living room. He took his shirt off at some point because he's not exactly dressing for company, and he's got his earbuds in with the cords leading down to a small mp3 player in his jeans pocket. If he'd been expecting anyone to drop by his shirt would definitely be on, though, because all the scars along his upper body say very clearly, 'this seventeen year old has seen some shit'. While he's got a sledgehammer to help aid in his attack he's finding it… slightly therapeutic to just kick in certain sections with his steel-toed boots, and to the practiced eye some of the holes in the living room might be recognizable as having been made by fists.
It… doesn't look like he's actually built anything. Jason's 'plan' at this stage basically consists of 'knock shit down', and it's not immediately clear to anyone observing the chaos that he's thought it all through any farther than that.
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Miles has been delaying moving into his new apartment for a few days now, but the sounds coming from West 301 have shown no signs of stopping and as awesome as Peter and Jesse are, he can only take so many days on the couch. After unlocking the door, though, he kind of wishes he'd taken Jesse up on staying longer. Since there's nowhere to actually move his stuff into, he leaves his trash bags by the thankfully still-intact front door and clears his throat.
Nothing. Obviously the guy - Jason, according to the assignment - can't hear him or he would have heard Miles knocking earlier in the week. Duh, Miles, he thinks before raising his voice.
"Hello? I'm Miles. I live here too. Hey, uh, maybe you could... stop smashing the place and we could talk for a second?"
The noise continues but his roommate is silent. Great. Already mentally kicking himself for even attempting to interact with a dude who clearly has some kind of rage issue, Miles approaches and cautiously taps Jason on the shoulder.
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Blue eyes wide, Jason pins the kid with an incredulous look before tossing the sledgehammer to the side and ripping out his earbuds. The sound of Aerosmith blasts, loud and tinny, for a moment before Jason pulls the mp3 player out of his pocket and hits pause, keeping his eyes on the kid in front of him.
"Who the hell are you?" He asks, and while his voice is steady and even his movements as he begins to wrap the cord around his mp3 player are jerky and somewhat aggressive.
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"Miles!!" His voice squeaks a little in the shock of the moment, giving him away as not quite out of puberty. "Miles Morales," he repeats, calmer and more cautiously. "Your new roommate?? You're Jason, right?" Miles reaches into his pocket, pulling out the slip of paper with their housing assignment and holding it out to prove he's not an intruder. He can't help but notice how scarred Jason's body is, and he meets the older teen's eyes just seconds too late, feeling embarrassed about having been caught looking.
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"Well," Jason says with a sarcastic smirk, "welcome home, sweet home." He makes an expansive gesture as if to show off the ruins of West 301 before swiping his tee shirt off the floor and pulling it on.
He's still really keyed up and now he's got a little kid running around and -
"How old are you?" Jason asks, eyebrow raised. "Because the squeaky voice and the smallness really aren't giving me high hopes here."
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"How old are you? Since you're supposed to be my legal guardian and everything." For a second he thinks about just grabbing his stuff and running back to Peter and Jesse's couch - but this is supposed to be his apartment too. Just like that, he's not embarrassed to meet Jason's eyes. This is the first time Miles has been mad like this since he got to New Moore and it's starting to show.
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"Oh, and for the future? You might not want to sneak up on a dude in the middle of swinging a sledgehammer. I could have knocked your head off your shoulders." Or stabbed him with one of three blades. Or shot him with one of the guns hidden under the jacket near his feet. Or snapped him like a twig with his bare hands. Jesus this kid is tiny.
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"Why do you even have that sledgehammer in the first place anyway?! What possible reason could you have for completely trashing our shared apartment?! I'm supposed to live here too!!" He's starting to get louder as he gets more and more pissed that Jason keeps smirking at him.
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"And can't you tell? I'm remodeling." Jason shrugs. "Got bit by the home redecorating bug."
Jason ambles over to the slightly more trashed bedroom, keeping Miles in his line of sight at all times by habit, and gestures invitingly. "This is your room. I got to pick first since I'm not the weenie who was too afraid to go into his own apartment."
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"Great. I see you decided to start remodeling in here too. Are you just going to leave it like that or do you have an actual plan?" Miles asks sarcastically, returning Jason's attitude.
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I'm pretty rusty with the Spider-Man quips, he thinks. Would that even be a fictional character?
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Jason leans against the door frame, still smirking.
"Anyway, don't worry about it too much. This place is gonna be awesome when I'm done."
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Jason pushes off from the door frame and heads back towards the kitchen area, giving Miles an obnoxiously loud clap on the shoulder as he passes. He pulls some water bottles out of the fridge (room temperature) and holds up one of them so Miles can see what's in his hand.
"Thirsty? Selection's a little slim, I'm afraid, but you don't want to stunt your growth any more than you need to so it's probably good I didn't buy any soda."
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"I actually have a bunch of Chinese food in that white bag," he says, pointing towards the plastic bags by the front door with his other hand. "My friend Gwen works there and the aunties always give me too much... if you want some." It's an uneasy peace offering, but at least it's peaceful.
"I'm sure between you and them I'll be big and strong in no time."
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"Aw, your optimism is adorable." He says over his shoulder with a grin, then turning back to the task at hand. He sticks the chopsticks in his mouth then grabs a carton in each hand, his water bottle tucked securely under his arm, bringing them over to the table that's been dragged to the center of the room with all of the other furniture.
He drops everything and then digs in, going into full-on bachelor mode.
"So, what's your story, anyway?" Jason asks around a mouthful of kung pao.
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"I'm from Brooklyn," he adds, after taking a bite. "You just got here, huh? Where from?"
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"East Coast buddies, then." Jason says, slurping noodles. "I'm from Gotham."
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He continues talking as Jason digs into the noodles. "That kind of stuff is always weird here. Like one day I ran into my girlfriend, but she was older and didn't recognize me and she said she never goes to Brooklyn or whatever? I mean, she's really cool, but she's like this rich Manhattan version of the girl I was dating." And also she's Hawkeye, but apparently that's no big deal?? he thinks to himself.
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"Ah, I think you figured it out, kid. Must be a different East Coast because Gotham is huge." He doesn't comment on Miles' girl problems, he's no one's agony aunt.
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"Well, it started with me trying to figure out a way to store valuables since I trust any bank on this island as much as I trust the damn island itself." He takes another bite and chews on it contemplatively. "Then I figured I should add some more security while I was at it since... there was an epidemic of werewolves and vampires a couple days after I got here."
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"I hope you mean the bird kind of raptor, but I get the sinking feeling you mean the dinosaur kind. Why do you think we need less security when there are dinosaurs on the loose?"
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"So... not to pry, if you don't want to talk about it. But did you get in, like, a million fights or something?"
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"Uh... the figure is a little lower than a million but, yeah, a lot of fights." Jason gives him a sharp smile. "You might say I've seen some shit."
Jason starts twirling his chopsticks idly in his left hand, making them flip and dance around each other because he might be one of the most lethal people in his world and trained by the goddamn Batman himself, but he's still 17 and a showoff.
"What about you? You take taekwondo in middle school? Got your yellow belt, maybe?"
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"My martial arts experience is pretty much limited to Jackie Chan movies." Miles watches Jason twirl the chopsticks. "And I was too busy in middle school anyway for that kind of thing." He doesn't mention that he was in middle school up until the moment he was taken here - Jason's already treating him like enough of a little kid.
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"Huh. Weird. You move like you know how to fight." Jason shrugs, leaning back. He pins Miles with his second-best Batman stare (don't want the kid to pee himself or anything) and lets the silence grow awkwardly between them.
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"Here's the thing," He says, abruptly breaking the silence. "You're puny. And what I learned from the streets is that puny guys like you don't walk around like they can punch someone out unless they can punch someone out."
Jason leans closer to Miles, speaking more softly, as if he's telling him a secret. "So either you're hiding some muscle, or you're confident you can take someone on for... another reason."
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Why does this keep happening!! I should probably ask Peter or Kate how to keep people from knowing you're a superhero. But - okay. All he knows is that I can fight. Just keep swimming, remember?
"Like I said, I've been in a few fights. Not as many as you. But it's not something I want to do unless I have to." He looks Jason in the eye. That means you too.
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"Oh, nice recovery." Jason says with a sarcastic grin. He decides to back off a little, let Miles see he isn't a bad guy (okay, he can't even say that with a mental straight face.)
"No worries, shortstack." He leans back, moves out of Miles' space. "I'm just a little nervous with so many weird things going down on this island." He starts eating his noodles again, making sure to slurp as loudly as possible.
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That giant girl was really hot, he thinks for a second as Jason moves away.
"Yeah, well, get used to it. They usually only last a few days, though. Before all this vampire and werewolf stuff there was a weird carnival that appeared and disappeared and then before that everybody was pirates." Miles watches Jason eat and takes a sip of water, not quite relaxed after the questioning.
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"Don't worry about it, kid, I'm dropping the subject." He gets up and stretches a little to work some of the kinks out of his spine. "I'm suddenly not at all suspicious about anything. Isn't that convenient."
He gives the younger boy an easy grin. "Want me to help bring your crap into your room?"
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"At least not until you get your remodeling done."
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"By the way, thanks for the food." Jason is carrying everything like it's filled with tissue paper, nimbly stepping around various floor hazards and depositing everything just inside the door of Miles' bedroom. He gives the room a critical look, toeing a messy pile of cables near his feet and pretending to be thinking to give the kid some space. He'd looked a little like he wanted to strangle Jason, which is something Jason has some strong, negative feelings about.
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After a decent interval has passed, he straps on his leg braces (mostly for show, but he's not perfectly healed yet), goes to the fridge to remove the cake he ordered earlier today, and stumps across the hall to knock on the door. Just a typical civilian welcoming someone new to the neighborhood.
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In one smooth move he's dusted off his clothes and checked to make sure his guns and knives are still easily accessible, and then he's at the door and wishing his security cameras were already set up so he could see who was outside.
Oh well, nothing for it. He rolls his shoulders a bit to loosen up and then opens the door.
And. Fuck.
He had plans to meet his replacement, really fucking complex goddamn plans and -- what was he holding? Is that a bomb? He's seen similar shit when back when he was Robin, some of the Arkham crazies are really fucked up -- okay, he needs to not do this now.
Drake doesn't know who he is. He's okay, he just needs to play the civilian and... something is bothering him about this conclusion but if he pauses any longer it'll be obvious something's up.
"Oh, hey." Jason says, letting some of his genuine surprise slip into his voice. "Uh, how can I help you?"
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"Within thirty feet of me for days now and I didn't notice," he says after a moment, shaking his head. "I'm sure you've been avoiding the cameras, but that's no excuse. I've been letting myself get distracted.
Hi, Jason. Welcome to New Moore. Can I come in?"
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"Yeah." He says hoarsely. "Yeah, come on in." He moves back so he's not blocking the entryway and does his level best not to go for his guns.
Fuck. Fuck. How does Drake know?
And as he's thinking that he notices how tall Drake is in his doorway, how he's taller than his dossier said he should be. He hadn't seen it until now, had been too thrown off by everything that's happened in the last two minutes and now that they've got more than three feet of space between them Jason can see it.
He'd spent hours looking at photographs of Tim Drake, hours of reviewing surveillance footage, hours agonizing over the thought of what could have possibly made that scrawny little shit capable of taking his place. He knows that face, that build... and he can still see it in front of him, hiding right under the surface of the man standing in front of him. Shit.
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"Miles was worried about his roommate," he says after a moment. "I just came by to make sure everything was all right. But I'm not worried anymore."
Not about that, anyway. He's got all kinds of concerns about Jason, anxieties, paranoias, and despite his best efforts they're all mounting.
But a kid's not in danger from Jason. Not at all. And he's not going to insult Jason by implying otherwise, or by pretending he didn't have an ulterior motive to be here.
"So. Alternate timelines, different universes. What do you know already, and what should I be filling in?"