thesphererp | two | memory (two kids, you and me)

Night - that’s when you do your work in this stoplight-colors uniform, eyes and identity concealed behind a red domino mask. You’re out patrolling on your own tonight, and the sounds of an altercation ring out from the darkened alley below, sounds you find all too familiar. Three well-muscled men - thugs - have a fourth man cornered on the ground; he’s younger, unruly red hair tied back with a white bandanna, either too drunk or too apathetic to fight back as the other three take turns kicking him down over and over again.

“... Call yourself a superhero? You dirty lowlife drunk …” one says, showing the bottom of his boot to the side of the redhead’s face. This is your cue to jump in. You call out from the rooftop above with a easy-going tone that manages to still mean business.

“That, coming from a guy wanted for assault in three different counties?” The thug looks up in surprise, trying to discern who’s speaking, and you work quickly, hurling a bat-shaped boomerang at his head, knocking him out and to the ground. The second man you take out with a five-ball bola thrown and wrapped around his neck as you leap to the ground, not missing a beat in your banter: “They really don’t make anonymous thugs like they used to, huh? Look how easy you break.” You land next to the last of the thugs and crack your elbow right into the side of his head, and he too slumps to the ground, unconscious.

You step forward out of the shadows toward the redhead kneeling on the pavement in bewilderment, a triumphant smile curving your mouth. “There. That’s better,” you say. “You’re Roy Harper, aren’t you?” (You know exactly who he is.) “I’m Robin. Version two, actually - although I bet you could figure that out on your own.”

“Why,” Roy asks, eyes turned up on you, “why are you helping me?”

“They took these from you back at the bar,” you say, holding out a bow and quiver of arrows for Roy to reclaim. “I thought you’d want them returned. My predecessor told me once that you were a good friend of his, before you fell off the wagon. I wanted to let you know I’m here if you ever need a friend.”

Roy takes his weapons and pulls himself to his feet, shaking his head. “I don’t need friends,” he protests, a slight slur blurring the edges of his words, “friends just let you down.” You smile knowingly, because you’ve said the same thing in the not-too-distant past.

“We all need friends, Roy.” You produce a grappling hook gun from your belt and aim it at the nearby rooftop. “You change your mind, just come find me.” You fire the gun and follow the wire up into the night, leaving Roy standing in the alley below.

“I’ll be waiting.”

audio; un: j.doe

[and not too long after that memory broadcasts, jason's voice follows, sharp and shaking with rage at the intrusion:]

Get. Out. Of my head. NOW.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah, funny thing about people - they tend to take offense to invasions of private thoughts.

It'll continue to happen, so get used to it. Or don't and sulk like an angry otter that's lost a fish. That's also entertaining.

[dryly:] You can’t tell me what to do - you’re not my real dad.

At least I see you have something approaching a sense of humor.

There’s nothing wrong with my sense of humor. I just don’t find it funny when someone or something starts poking around in my head without permission.

I'm not fond of it either, but it's happened enough times by now I just sort of go with it, and watch everyone else's for fun.

[that's rude, but not really the most important takeaway here.]

How many times counts as "enough"?

A couple of times here and quite a few more in the place I was previous. So about five or six times total.

[Enough for him to learn there was no privacy to be found even in one's own mind.]

So this really is just “ho hum another dumb day” for you, huh. [jason can’t imagine he will ever develop such a complacent attitude about such a horrible invasion of his privacy.] And it doesn’t bother you that you’re just fine with all of this?

I never said it didn't still bother me, just that I've become used to it. I could do just as well without all the condemnation and judgment from people over the choices I've made in my life.

So why don't you do something about it?

What would you have me do?

What can you do?

Not much. Asking this place politely to stop showing off private moments to everyone hasn't gotten any results.

Then maybe it’s time to stop being polite.

Fine. You yell at it, I'll stand back and see what happens next.

Pretty sure I’m gonna end up doing more than just yelling.

Be sure to let me know when you do so I can get some popcorn ready. I've been in need of some good entertainment.

[Shows exactly what he thinks of that particular idea.]

Sorry, kiddo, I'm not the one with the showbiz background. You must be thinking of someone else.

[that would be dick grayson.]

Don't you know? Everyone is here for my entertainment. Or to be used like pawns on a chessboard. No in-between.

[He's a liar. That's not all he sees people as, not anymore, but one will be hard-pressed to get him to admit to it.]

So what I hear you saying is that you’re a sociopath. Noted.

Got it in one.

[He sounds proud of that fact. Ivar is indeed one, though not quite fully. He's able to establish relationships and care about people to a limited degree, though it still hasn't stopped him from doing things like murdering his whole family.]

[hear that slow clapping? that’s how impressed jason is with ivar’s admission.]

Congratulations. You’re officially the first one on my list.

[Looks like there's someone here who can finally get down to Ivar's snark level.]

So who's acquaintance do I have the pleasure of talking to?

Jason. What about you, Boneless Sociopath?

(no subject)

ragnarsson - 2019-05-03 22:43 (UTC) - Expand

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