thoughtformed | [Private texts.]

What happened?

The school thing bothered him. And the double dose of Grayson.

At least since he came backfrom the dead, Jason's always thought he didn't measure up to Dick' standard. Or Bruce's standard. Kind of the same thing in this case. He wants to do better. But to do better his way.

Then we find him with a way to do better.

I thought we had one. Everything was going well...

Okay. Preliminaries. I have a short list of nine buildings he might target. Records show them abandoned, they're near prominent nonfictional districts or criminal hot spots where he wouldn't mind collateral damage, and they have approaches that aren't actively covered by Vigilance surveillance, which he'd know, since he has access to the network.

One more psych factor, too. Damian threatened him with a crowbar when Dick showed up. That's... how Jason died, the first time around. The crowbar, I mean, not Damian.

I have an idea.

I'll be right there.

See you soon.

[he's quick. there in a flash! when he's not thinking, his intentions are there with him. he shows up at Tim Drake's door with a tome that's almost as heavy as he would be if he wasn't an Asgardian. he hefts it in his arms and lets himself in, squirming and setting the book in the middle of the floor. it's old, but the bookmarks in it are napkins and brightly colored pieces of papers (sometimes with stupid handdrawn pictures on them). he seems to know exactly where to turn.]

You know he's in one of those nine?

Yes.

[Tim's voice is sure. Loki's right. Jason wants to be caught. That means he's really there, really playing by at least some of the rules -- and three of these nine are the buildings he wired. Tim's sure of it, in several ways he could rationally lay out and a few more he can't explain quite as easily.]

You have a way of finding him?

I have a way of being in nine places. It will have to be enough.

[he begins to pushing things out of the way. tables, chairs, stacking them together in ways that they suspiciously look like they're going to fall. he then starts to roll up any rugs so they're left with clean floor.]

[Tim joins in the effort immediately, but there's a frown creasing his face.]

Does your way work on me? Or do you have a way of being invisible? Because I'm the one he's expecting. If he sees you, instead... do you know how he'll react? Because I don't.

[he goes into his pocket, fumbling with a piece of chalk. he begins drawing something from tome and onto the floor.]

You can come with, but I'm coming too. Er, so we'll think of that when we get there.

I wasn't going to try to stop you. I asked for your help, and I meant it.

... I'm not sure the island is ready for nine of us.

You misunderstand.

[and he's drawing as quickly as he can, occasionally looking awfully focused as he copies the runes.]

I'm going to amplify portal spell thingy. I'll be able to make nine, one to each one of your warehouses. Can you get me still images?

[it was the only spell he knew. the one that his Evil-Self had taught him before he had left. he knew that his sorcery was sloppy, and he had used it occasionally, mostly in basic summons of various creatures around the Nine Realms, but he had never bothered to learn.

no, he would be too much like him.

the thoughts pass through his mind with each stroke of the chalk against the floor. the runes grew outward, circular, and when he was finished they covered the entire floor.

this was different, he told himself. this spell he was using was to save someone.]

That's better. Still images, coming right up.

{Leaving Loki to the circles, Tim called up his files, scrolling through them one-handed on his smartphone while setting up and plugging in a projector with the other. In a minute, he had them, nine steady pictures on a blank space of wall.]

[he takes the images in his hand, going through them just once (it was all the time he had) trying to commit it to memory. he tosses them behind him and stands in the center of the circle, steadying his breath.]

All right, let's do this. Please, please work.

[he begins speaking again, but it's not English. it's some dialect of Norse that probably hasn't been used for a few hundred years. the lines by his feet begin to glow, panning out slowly outward as he continues his chat. the runes lift from the chalk in a dim green light.

around him the nine circles around him crackle to life and Loki swoons a bit.]

So where to, first? The last one, most likely. That's where he'll be.

At this point, you know him better than I do. Your call.

Edited 2013-06-18 01:23 (UTC)

[he holds out his hands, stabilizing the spell.]

Pick one and start looking. Start on the left.

Got it.

[Tim started scanning his way across the portals, looking for any signs -- of either Jason OR explosives -- and realized after a moment what the niggling little thing that felt wrong to him was.

He wasn't worried about the fact that Loki could apparently make portals to anywhere on the island. That deserved revisiting. But later.]

[he could do more if he cared to learn, but he didn't. what he knew and how he knew to do it were bits of things that he never really specified. how he learned to do it if he needed it played into everything. it made him unpredictable. it made his Evil-Self dangerous.

he kept it up without a change in expression admirably. it was difficult to hold it. difficult to keep it going. difficult to keep his thoughts straight, not to let it wander to Jason, and instead to focus on the sorcery. his muscles were forced into fluidity, repeating the mantra in his brain over and over.

Jason first. the rest later.]

[Scanning nine 'monitors' is pretty standard for Tim by this point, but not when looking for this level of detail. No sign of tampering, no sign of tampering -- that building is built like a bunker, Drake, what were you thinking? -- no. Wait. Doublecheck. Confirm.

Go time.]

Third from the left. I'm going in.

[No words wasted. Tim jumps through the portal, wondering for probably the tenth or twentieth time if he should be suited and cowled for this, rather than his current kevlar-and-stab-vest under civvies ensemble. Maybe. Probably. But the whole point of doing things this way rather than calling out Torchwood and the Young Avengers is that he's not doing this as Red Robin. This is Tim Drake, trying to stop his brother from making a mistake. Doing it this way feels right.]

[no time wasted. he could feel his body respond with heaviness from the strain, and he struggled to keep his vision straight. there was enough just enough time between when Tim jumped, when he jumped and the time the spell ended.

the spell ended like trying to poke grapes in jello. the portals closed, reality shuddered and they both spilled out the other side.

Loki tumbled to the hard ground, his vision beginning to swim. his first intention was clear though.

it was look for Jason.]

We made it.

Congratulations!

[Jason's voice booms from nowhere and everywhere. It's like he's talking through a stereo system, and after a while, it becomes apparent that's the case. While this is the correct location, he remains hidden for this initial part. He isn't going to bother going to all these lengths without making it extra special.

From his position, he notices that Tim is dressed in civvies. Jason decides (quite accurately) that in Tim's head, that means he's doing this for some self-righteously sibling-related reason, or he wants it to look like such. It's idiotic, and walking, talking proof of why they're here. All of Tim's little shows—all of Tim's certainty—is what has been grating on him. That combined with everything else thrown into a blender just finally made him sick of it. Burn the new leaf, return back to proper habits, get results. He knows it doesn't look good, but he also knows their methods haven't been working.

He moves after Tim steps in immediately, needing to hit somewhere that Tim won't notice him and strike first. That's part of the plan, so much that his head is down and moving as the second person steps inside. He saves his congratulations for Tim, but he doesn't bother to catch who's decided to come along.

He's tired of playing nice. And more than that, he's not interested in repeating the few months after he returned to Gotham, shocking and stirring up emotions in his "family" as they told themselves they knew better than him. He was a problem before he died, after all. The death just made him see things more ... clearly.

But really, the surprising part is that someone else is there, and Jason hadn't expected that, hadn't calculated the fact that Tim Drake would bring someone else with him. That he'd be dumb enough to put so many lives on the line for some brotherly bonding. At least, that's what he assumes. He doesn't catch Loki's words, only the brief pattering of his footsteps after he finally settles in to his new location (where, when he had been moving, no shadows would give him away if he moved an inch). So, which Dick did he bring? He's not looking directly because if he was, he'd be seen. It's that kind of place, and he can't exactly set up handy dandy monitors.]

But here's the trick, Drake. And which Dick is that? Little one or big one? No matter. I'm sure his insides'll look the same. A noble loss for New Moore. Two vigilantes killed while trying to take out a bad guy. But they died for the nonfictionals, so let's praise them. Look at what they did. But no, I'm not planning on killing you ... yet. We're on a three strike system here, Drake, so I'm gonna give you three strikes, and the moment your self-important bullshit fills up the meter, I'm gonna push this button.

[He laughs, his voice bouncing off the walls of the building. There's a moment when the sound shifts, like he's pressing his mouth too close to his microphone at hand.]

So, let the games begin—you do know games, don't you, Drake? Maybe you don't play them quite like I did, but you have to have an idea of how to win. After all, you haven't nearly died the way we all have. Close, but really, no cigar.

Question number one: why is Jason Todd doing this? You get thirty seconds to spit out your answer, starting ... now.

[And that's when he started humming the Jeopardy theme.]

Edited 2013-06-18 21:50 (UTC)

[Tim doesn't bother arguing, and he doesn't bother correcting Jason's mistake. Instead, he starts looking, pacing through the building looking for a sign of Jason. There's no point in looking for a bomb to disarm when Jacon can set it off remotely.

If Loki is right, Jason will play by the rules he's set. So while he looks, he'll play.]

Why do you want to do this, or what pushed you into it? I'm assuming the second's what you want the answer to. I've got five reasons. Two of them named Grayson. Damian and his stupid, mouthy crowbar remark. Our Happy Days high school interlude. And me. Treating you like a project. Acting like what you've done is somehow what I've done.

[Twenty-seven seconds. Two seconds quicker than the thirty-second ultimatum Damian gave Tim the other night. Does Jason know about that?]

[so there were a couple of things that he forgot to mention in their clamor to find Jason.

the first was that he wasn't sure it would work at all.

the second one was that, erm, well, he couldn't get them back.

the third was probably the one worth mentioning the most--and that was that he wasn't sure exactly what would happen when he tried to preform a spell that large.

he's half surprised that he can actually push himself up to his feet, conveniently ignoring that he takes three woozy steps to his right trying to steady himself. it's worth so much energy that he only hears half of what Jason's saying, the other half sounds like the teacher on one of those Midgardian television specials about the boy who couldn't kick the football.

Tim is also talking.

but he only listens to him half the time anyway, so no loss.

when he orients himself again, Tim is gone.]

... Tim ...?

[he had hoped, hoped that Jason wouldn't blow anything up with him in it. Tim, maybe. Loki? er, well, did he say he hoped?]

Bzzzt, strike one! Well, I'm ahead of the count and you're just caught swinging. Guess dear old dad didn't teach you how to swing the bat correctly, did he?

[He laughs at that, utterly amused. And then he considers his next question, instead deciding to throw it at one of the Dicks.]

And here's one for your guest, since he shouldn't be here at all. Let's hope he can get it, Drake.

So, Dick, how many innocent people did Jason Todd kill before he ended up in a second explosion?

Edited 2013-06-19 04:10 (UTC)

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