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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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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?"