Oh, what will you become?

[batricide]

WHO: Damian & YOU
WHERE: Around the city
WHEN: September ( january)
WHAT: Life threw a curveball he wasn't expecting and Damian is dealing with it poorly.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: damian is not okay

prompts below! pm me or hit me up @ minimoffs on plurk if you'd like a prompt!

Comments

SEPTEMBER 5th

[batricide]

OPEN

[batricide]

[ Immediately after all is said and done, he settles on an apartment. Bruce is here and he can recognize that his temper is getting the best of him (leash that temper, damian, clark's voice in the back of his mind, you can't do your job if you're snapping.) He needs his own space, his own room, his own place to think far from everyone else - even if the apartment they'd settled in is only a stones throw from Jason's.

But whatever. It's fine. People can catch him moving the few things he owns from where he's been stashing them at Kate's to the new place, and then lugging some halfway classy furniture across down because it was a deal damnit and he's not going to live in trash. He's -- less angry, more tired. Just wanting to get as far from this whole situation as possible so he can regroup and process.

And maybe make a plan to kill his father. ]

[ofmyth]

[ Thor's been keeping to himself lately. Work keeps him busy and he trusts Loki to fill him in if anything important happens. He feels underpowered and underused and restless. But without his godhood all it feels like it restless energy that he can't ever fully exercise.

He notices that someone's lugging something heavy down the street before he realises he knows the man. The one who had performed surgery on Matches... what was his name- ]

Hafid! [He waves at the man, coming closer, then nods at the heavy piece of furniture.] Are you taking that far?

[batricide]

[ His head snaps up at the sound of the voice, turning to look and -

Oh.

Oh no. ]

Not really. [ This is a lie. ]

[ofmyth]

[Thor nods. He'll make the proper greetings before he outright offers to carry it.] You are well? Taken anyone else apart, lately?

[It's meant to be a joke, though you can't tell from his tone. Or his face. Or anything.]

KARA

[batricide]

[ When all is said and done and they're moved in, after they've had a chance to get a drink and cool off, Damian has something for her. Something he's been working on since their conversation about Krypton.

And she was there for him last night. And she matters.

He's not good with words and he shoves people away by instinct, despite how badly he wants them near. So when he approaches her it's with considerably more... shyness, than usual. Less bravado and confidence. He knocks on the door to her room. ]

... Kara? Are you busy?

[crisised]

No, come on in!

[ there's still a couple boxes in her room. not much, because she hasn't exactly had the time or funds to acquire a lot of stuff, but there's one or two. kara herself is sprawled out on her bed, having been playing candy crush a puzzle game on the implant before damian knocked. ]

What's up?

[batricide]

[ ... ]

I'm going to send you a file. You're going to want to run it in the living room.

[crisised]

[ she gives him a confused look, but stands and makes her way to the living room. once there, she opens the file. ]

So what is thi-- [ she freezes, eyes wide and breath held. ]

SEPTEMBER 6th

[batricide]

KATE

[batricide]

[ The past few days have been a rollarcoaster and to be quite frank? He wants off. He's had a few days to calm down and get his head straight - and it's mostly just left him more confused and annoyed than where he started.

But Kate wants to talk to him. So he'll go talk to her.

It's too damn hot for all the layers of flame-resistant clothing and he figures it's - probably fine, so he opts instead for a jacket, a tank top, and some loose fitting pants. He lets himself in through the window, because doors continue to be something he doesn't particularly trust. ]

You wanted to talk?

[fledges]

[Hopefully it's fine. Kate doesn't intend to turn this into an argument, but she knows as well as anyone how blunt she can be. Still, it's something that needs to be said. She's been putting it off and giving Damian a lot of slack, assuming he just needed time to settle in, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

She's sitting crosslegged on her bed, and she pats the space next to her in invitation.]

Hey. Come sit down.

[batricide]

[ He doesn't. For her safety more for his comfort. His arms fold and he leans against the walls instead. ]

I'm not wearing my gear. I'm fine here.

september 7th

[secondnature]

[The last thing Keith wants to do is be here. There's something reassuring about knowing that Damian is just as bombastic, destructive, and troubling when he isn't in a conversation with Keith. But knowing that doesn't remove the fact that Damian, down to his very core, unsettles every bit of Keith's being. It's not the kind of unsettling that comes with terror; instead, it's that Damian can hit so close to the mark of what he fears, digging in deep and cutting to the bone in the process.

It's like what he told Kara: sometimes it feels like Damian can see into his past. He can see Keith nearly getting his team killed when Lotor played with them. He can see Keith not showing up when they needed Voltron to help a lot of refugees.

Keith knows that's unrealistic. Deep down, he understands this. Strangely ... or not so strangely, that doesn't do the trick.

But he's here. Because like it or not, their group is a team. Keith is pretty sure that when it comes to him and Damian, it's a permanent "or not." This situation is bigger than the both of them. So, again, he's here. Wherever they've agreed to meet, dressed in a set of clothes ready for a workout. His knife is strapped to his back like it used to be back in the day, wrapped up to hide the glowing emblem of the Blade of Marmora.]

You ready for this?

[Honestly, the weirdest part of this? Keith has rushed into lots of fights in his life without thinking twice. Sometimes he doesn't even think about winning or losing. Here, he's dreading that if he loses, Damian will hold it over him. That he'll make it difficult for Keith to get any headway here. That Keith won't be able to help people who need it.

It's a pretty crappy feeling. Keith knows he has to do his best not to let it affect him.]

[batricide]

[ He doesn't want power.

If there is one thing Damian can safely admit to himself, it's that he doesn't want power. He doesn't want to command, he wants to enforce. He wants to be the iron in the spine of a movement, not standing at the head dealing with everything he'd left behind in the ashes of Wayne Manor. He is not his father, and he is not his mother.

He suspects he's probably worse than the both of them.

But he can't stand being idle. Can't stand the thought of untrained civilians stumbling into something they can't handle and getting killed. Only the strong survive, but the strong protect the weak. And more than anything in the world, Damian Wayne wants to be someone Clark Kent would be proud to call son.

His hair, which has always grown faster than he might have liked, is getting long enough to be annoying. Too short to pin back with a ponytail, too long to stay pushed back. Any idle thoughts he had about cutting it went out the window when his father - or some alternate universe's discount version of him - showed up on his doorstep. He's in his element on the mats, loose and easy and ready for whatever Keith might throw at him.

This feels like he has something to prove. Like he's actually proving he can be more than an attack dog, or an enforcer. Like there's some weighty meaning behind it, instead of just vetting that Keith's money is actually where is mouth is. ]

I was born ready.

[secondnature]

[Keith is well aware that he's reckless. His impulsive streak gets the best of him, so he tries to set aside other people to keep them from getting hurt, and throws himself into the fray on his own. It's never a good look, but it's how he tries to manage the balance between "getting other people hurt" and "trying to get the thing done." He's smarter about it these days, but it's a problem just the same.

The difference between him doing that back home and doing that here is that Keith doesn't have experience to back up what he's doing. No one knows what the Voltron paladins do. Good or bad, it's in the past. In a different universe. All his life has felt like he has to prove something to someone—and often pretending that he doesn't care to try. Acting out, avoiding responsibility. And more. All people know about him here is trying to do ... well. The opposite. Facing responsibility head on.

And then he gets in trouble with Damian (Hafid) and his brother. It's been a constant headache, one that he hasn't exactly navigated perfectly himself.

Starting a spar is always a little different from starting a fight. A fight can take any level of motivation and instigation. A spar means not giving his all. Keith has a feeling that he has to see this more as a fight than a spar, or else he's going to look like a failure.

His shoulders roll back. He reminds himself that patience yields focus. And then he moves, swift, off to the right to try to see how Damian's reaction time is. No strike yet, just testing. He's never actually seen him in motion.]

[batricide]

[ Come on, come on. Make it good, pretty boy. Don't make him regret even extending the offer.

Damian moves quick. Close to superhuman as a baseline human can get, instincts built up from years of combat and being hit. You have to be quick if you aren't superhumanly strong - get hit less than everyone else while delivering more precision blows. He's graceful for his size, light on his feet, and ready to leap over Keith's head if he goes for a more direct blow.

Right now? All he wants to do is see him in motion. See if he can actually hit. Maybe make him frustrated and annoyed by making himself as hard to hit as possible. ]

SEPTEMBER 7th

[batricide]

MARKUS

[batricide]

[ Look, he just had a massive blowout with Connor in a very public setting - so he's surprised when Markus reaches out with a request for combat training. He doesn't say no, and he sets up in the usual spot - his shitty abandoned warehouse. Because his old man is at the safehouse and he's not going anywhere near it so long as that's a fact. ]

You sure I'm not going to end up with Resnik breathing down my neck for this? [ He might not know their relationship but, you know - they're always talking. He's not convinced that bygones will stay bygones after that fight, and he's pretty sure if he opens his mouth and it blows into another fight things are going to get Bad. ]

[saviorexe]

[Markus arrives on time, giving notice to the state of their meeting place — an abandoned warehouse that’s surely seen better days — but making no remark on it for now. There’s appreciation in Hafid still being willing to do this, after all that had exploded over the network; and especially knowing of his association with Connor, though perhaps not how deeply that association actually ran.

So maybe the question isn’t all that unexpected.]

Connor knows better than that. Who I associate with is my own choice to make, and I know he can respect that.

[And outside of extenuating circumstances, this is mostly true.

Dressed plainly, focused on ease of movement rather than looking sharp, Markus clasps his hands patiently behind his back.]

Unless you think my association with him is going to be an issue for you, personally?

[The question reflected back, giving Hafid an out if he was starting to have second thoughts.]

[batricide]

Only if he's going to get in my face over it.

[ He's still a little angry about the whole debate. He doesn't respect that stance - can't, really. Not after he's seen what it does to the world.

Damian's barefoot and dressed in easy workout gear, losing the layers for once. It's too hot. He's too stressed. It'll probably lead to a fainting spell or something equally embarrassing, and as it is, he's not sure many people would stop to help him up. ]

Anyway. How familiar with combat are you?

SEPTEMBER 8th

[rehandle]

[ it's been... a time. the past few days have given him more to think about than he was necessarily prepared for, but that is what it is when you're living in an alternate future under extraordinary circumstances. new arrivals don't exactly have a system for inputting prior warning of possible intent to murder, and nothing else around here ever comes with prep time, so what's new?

he's taken a while to figure a few things out before moving onto the next, but now the next is imminent, and Stephen's in his apartment waiting for the arrival of a person whose thoughts and responses dominated a good portion of the shitshow Gaby's post had been. he's got a little bit of background, a positive review and his own personal conversation with Hafid as insurance that this isn't a bad idea, which is enough to be getting on with. close to the allotted hour he fires off a quick message: ]

I've added your I.D to the access list. You can let yourself in.

[ which leaves Stephen the freedom to potter about in the kitchen of his nice-ish, upper floor, open plan if mostly only functionally decorated apartment in a not so nice part of town, without the need to listen for the door. ]

[batricide]

[ Honestly? He thinks it's stupid how many of them will give out their address to people they've neve rmet. But that's just him, really. Damian won't give out his name, his address, or his friendship to anyone here.

Allies, though - they're important. So long as you leave yourself enough room to cut loose if they end up being a traitor or a liability.

It's too hot for his flame-resistant clothing, even for a short trip - he can't afford to keep running himself ragged trying to avoid burning people, but he has a spare set in the bag he's carrying in case things go south and he lights up. As it is, he's dressed like a teenager, his hair shoved back from his face with gel. Too long and unruly to do anything but that, regardless of how much it makes him look like his father. ]

Nice place. [ He only makes noise once he's actually stepped inside and assessed there to be no threat, keeping his shoes on in case he has to make a getaway. ]

[rehandle]

Thanks.

[ from the kitchen, where the soft bubbling of water gives away a boiling kettle. there are easier ways to do this now, but sometimes it doesn't hurt to hold on to the old ways: a countertop, a hob, one ring for the kettle and the other for a wok. Stephen himself is sloping about his mercifully well air-conditioned apartment in his casual wizard chic, turning to greet his guest over his shoulder, not abandoning the quickly frying meat alternative on stove.

there's business to attend to, but he's hungry. ]

Have you eaten?

[ starting this kind of a meeting with an offer of a meal isn't usually his style, but playing things differently here doesn't seem like it could hurt. ]

[batricide]

[ The clothing of the future is stupid and he'd probably actually kill a man to get his uniform back.

Except... maybe not. That's what got him here. Wanton murder is bad, but he'd settle for liberating the heads of the people who dropped them here. ]

No. Not yet. [ But he isn't sure he wants to eat someone's cooking when he hasn't seen it prepared from start to finish. Not someone he hasn't discerned isn't actually a potential threat. He was sensible, but - sensible doesn't always mean on your side.

But then again, even he can admit that maybe this is the paranoia winning out. He's sounding more and more like his old man. ]