thoughtformed | [Private texts.]

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)

[Tim glances behind him. Loki is out of sight. Back where they came in? Splitting off to search? Doing something unpredictable?

There's no way for him to predict. But it's time to intervene, before he has to find out just how well Loki can impersonate a Grayson. And it's a chance to stall, turn the tables, keep him talking - something.]

That's going to be hard for him to answer, seeing as Dick's not the one I brought with me.

I—

[Jason's talking, and then Tim's talking again through some incoherent filter. he catches parts of it, enough to make out the basics, but the more he struggles the more passing out sounds awfully good right now.

he really didn't want to impersonate anyone. there are cases that the truth needed to be walked around, twisted and played with. the truth became words and words were a game, woven in ways that would later become favorable.

but this was his friend.]

Can ... can we not make anything explode right now? ...

Explosions later is sounding much, much better.

[What Tim says surprises him. Not Dick? Then it's Kate, perhaps, or that alien ... but he decides not to leave it up to chance. Jason pulls off his mask and listens carefully, mouthpiece moved away from his face so that the sound doesn't vibrate through.

Loki.

He fucking brought Loki.

Even better, Loki doesn't sound that good.

His lips twist downward in irritation. There aren't many people Jason would go out of his way to save when he gets like this, when he's honest with himself, but Scarlet was one of them. He wants to shove aside any feelings of giving a damn about Loki to prove Tim wrong, but he can't. Though he can't kick the feeling that Tim only brought him along to use him, either.

Jason stands up, setting down his mask and his gun and his detonation device all at once, slipping out from a busy, cluttered upper corner of the building. He swings down easily moments later. The thing about Jason's movement is that he's always slightly more lumbering than Dick, but that doesn't make him an adequate acrobat. When he lands, he heads over to Loki, eyes slit as he takes a good look at him.]

Is this a pawn? Your way of saving the day? Throwing him in here so I wouldn't push a button?

[His voice is low and angry because, at this point, the last thing he expects is for Tim to genuinely ask Loki for help.]

[what was the plan? find Jason, the rest comes after that. convince him not to blow things up! yes, quite a good plan. well, it was a good plan until the energy expended for the spell hit him and he ended up in woozyville, population Loki. he recognizes someone coming toward him and takes a few instinctive steps back. he was used to running, even if he was in no state to do it.

but he halfway recognizes who's in front of him.]

Hi, Jason. ... I came to tell you that I—

I would rather—

[and that's about it. his vision blurs, and the next time he forces himself to focus it's too much.]

...I...

[with the first part of the plan fulfilled, he either unintentionally or intentionally puts the second part into motion and subsequently falls back onto the floor and loses consciousness.]

[Hypothetically, falling would take place if Jason didn't reach forward quickly to grab the front of Loki's clothing and catch him. His weight always surprises him, but he doesn't let go of him, drawing him closer and eventually swinging him over his shoulder. Only a small part of him extends over onto his back, because Jason doesn't want to be practically dangling him and he's not interested in cradling Loki right now.

He glances toward Tim, face still bunched up and angry.]

Have fun taking down all those explosives. Hope I didn't set a timer.

[He didn't, but the explosives were there—they'd been there for a while. This game was one he devised his first time through the city, and it was found by him the second time and filed away for this third time around. The explosives were lacking a few key components, but they weren't hard to rig up the moment he decided he wanted to have his game.

He starts moving toward the exit, not letting his mind wander.]

[The prolonged silence, the lack of audible Loki, had been enough to make Tim swing back around, so he's close enough to witness Jason scooping up Loki. For a moment, he's about to ask what Jason did, but Jason's body language doesn't need Cass to read it. Loki knocked himself out. Spent too much energy? He hadn't seemed terribly practiced with the portals, and Tim hadn't spared time to think through the implications.

For a moment, he wonders: did Loki do this on purpose? He knows it's the kind of game he himself is capable of playing -- if you can't fake sincerity, your best bet is not faking it -- but at the moment that doesn't really matter. Game on hold, Jason on his way out -- he'll keep Loki safe -- and a few answers about Jason's state of mind answered, too.

He'd better get to those explosives.]

[The place he takes Loki isn't his apartment.

He considers it, briefly, but since he doesn't know his roommate well and isn't interested in changing that beyond a few shared words, he decides on a familiar place: the warehouse where they first chatted, only it looks more like a safehouse now, with Jason's own computer, small built in kitchen, and decent sized beds. There are two of them, because for some reason, he was prepared. If it wasn't Loki, it'd be someone else. That's the way these things work.

The room itself is dimly lit and there's the smell of ... pizza. Yes, that's definitely pizza, freshly delivered around the time Jason guessed Loki would be waking up. He sets a couple bacon covered pieces next to Loki's bed on a nightstand with a cup of orange juice. Whatever happened to him, Jason can tell that some degree of it is exhaustion.

As it is, Jason isn't far from Loki's bed, but he is reading, not really being the type to stare down someone worried while he sleeps. He did that enough as a kid—feeding his mother stolen scraps of food and cans of cold soup while she struggled to take it down. And though he gives a shit about Loki, he isn't his mother. No one will ever be.

Right now, he has a book in his hand, but the cover is folded over so Loki can't see what he's reading.]

[sorcery acts on its bearer in many ways, exhaustion of the body is one of them, exhaustion of the mind the other. he had experimented a little with the portals, never enough to make him feel anything but just short of breath, but he hardly prepared himself for the ton of bricks waiting above his head that he unknowingly cut the rope to. sorcery was never his thing, and his Other-Self had ridiculed him for it. the spell that he took up was something that he needed, that he could use, that he decided he could save people with. it took a toll on his mind, lowering his defenses and allowing an unusual variety of nightmares to creepy through. in his wake he tossed a bit beneath the covers, but only briefly before his eyes snapped open and he gasped.

and there was bacon, he could smell it.

first, the disorientation. it took a moment for everything to sink in. the few moments before he was wiped were awkward and blurry, each time he remembered them they were different. it hurt to think about. where was he? where ever he was, he was already reaching for the pizza to chow down. the first bite leaves him ravaging, and the second one only in existence for a few moments before it's devoured. then they're both gone, and the orange juice disappears in one gulp.

he glances around briefly, his brows quirk a bit at what Jason's doing, and then he opens his arms and flops ungracefully back on the bed. the ceiling is very interesting.]

I wiped out.

[...

burp.]

Edited 2013-06-21 02:19 (UTC)

Yup. That's accurate.

[He yanks a phone out of his pocket and tosses it at Loki. He doesn't say what he did with it, but he figures Loki is smart enough to put it together. If he asks, he'll tell him. No use beating around the bush, and he doesn't mind being honest with him.]

Did you catch any of it before you nearly hit the floor?

[huh?

he picks it up and turns it between his fingers.]

It sounded something akin to a Charlie Brown special. The Winternights' one. There's a pumpkin, I think blood has been shed. You were fighting, it was very melodramatic. Though I assume things went fairly well, since there were no Timsplosions. And thus I counted myself lucky that we've all arrived in one piece aside from a hundred tiny small ones. I've heard it's most unpleasant, though not in my direct memory, it's not one I would revisit.

Can I have more pizza?

[there's a pause and he rolls over and his brows knit.]

What did you want on my phone? I would have showed you.

I had time to kill. You were out for a few hours.

[Jason says it idly as he gets up to grab the full box of pizza and sets it on the bed. He returns to his seat, closing the book finally and tucking it in the inside of his jacket.]

Nice stuff on there. Tim isn't much for the apologies, is he? And he can only manage it when someone points it out. Even better. My pizza is better.

Among other things, of course.

[and he's already reaching forward for it, grabbing the closest piece and scarfing it down with just as much ferocity as the last two. before long it's gone, and he's reaching for another.]

—As I'm sure that's not all you found.

[there's a lot of chewing.]

He's bad at most things like that, I've come to terms with it, you could say. If he wishes Loki to create what he feels like Loki should create, perhaps Loki should create it for him. It would validate his beliefs.

[Private texts.]

Action.

Re: Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Re: Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Re: Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Action.

Let's just say action forever.

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