ARRIVAL LOG 004

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 05
WHAT: The fourth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #004

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs. You realize there are others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of streets passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle, bright sunshine and the rushing sound of a crowd flooding in, a heavy wave of warm air. The nurse moves to stand at the back, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. He doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded. The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Once all the passengers are out, they climb back into the vehicle and close the doors. The engine powers up again, and then the bus is gone. You're left alone in an alley, with no idea of where you are or why you've been brought here. The sound of the crowd nearby carries on uninterrupted. Music, chatter and laughter, the occasional sound of a large splash into water. At the end of the alley opposite to where the van left you, the street opens out to a wide artificial river. Gathered on the banks, on several boats across the surface and in the water are hundreds of people: a giant pool party under the blazing summer sun. ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> THE PARTY

The message from El comes the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it. Who's ready for bus #4? Looks like they want you to have some fun this time, they've dropped them off right on top of the river party. Someone get down there and find them before they fall in, please. The New Amsterdam River Party is a near annual event, scheduled for whenever the heat begins to really climb. Located roughly at the middle of the river's length, six large boats take anchor, blocking any water commute for the day. Smaller boats move between them and the river banks, taking any passengers who'd prefer not to get wet back and forth. The area is decorated for the occasion, with several huge palm tree and mermaid sculptures curving over the river, flashing in alternating neon colors. Curling strings of bright lights are strung between them, dangling low and promising a truly flamboyant light show when the sun goes down. For the moment the the focus is fun under the sun. Colorful floats, balls and slides are strewn across the water and banks, with a wide array of water pistols, balloons and slings available at stalls. Beach umbrellas offer shade along the banks, and music blares from the boats, where food sellers have booths and tables to feed the crowd and provide plenty of cool drinks. Lifeguards take posts, watching everything with careful eyes, and large, marked stalls declare themselves to be skincare centers, handing out free sunscreen and reminding everyone to regularly reapply, especially if they've been in the water. In all the colorful, skimpy swimwear and sunglasses, six bewildered people in white scrubs are sure to stand out. Hopefully the citizens are having too much fun to care, but with such attentive lifeguards and event security around, it would be best to find the new arrivals in the crowd as quickly as possible.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. ◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries. ◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned. ◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. ◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them. ◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. ◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until AUGUST 09. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until August 9 (November 16). At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our November calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC for new characters will be 10 comments across 2-4 threads, while current characters will need to provide the full AC of 20 comments across 2-4 threads. AC will be posted on November 20 and close on November 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[reneger]

( hunt the batman. that sounds vaguely familiar, jason notes it for later. either way, it's not close to where dick was before jason got here. hell, where was dick even? dealing with some bullshit in bludhaven, nothing big enough that jason felt the need to intervene and help. he couldn't even tell dick what it was now. what he was doing--is a loaded question. one jason opened himself up to.

dick's watching out for him even if he's pissed off, it's cute, very dick grayson-y. it's appreciated, even if the sentiment isn't voiced; that this is still very much their golden boy. even pissed off, he's trying. )

Fighting with B. As per the usual.

( light-hearted, keeping the pain out out of his voice. dick doesn't need to know what they were fighting over. how badly he fucked himself over. how much jason ruined himself, ruined his own goddamn progress for nothing more than--what? temporary relief. and he fucked that up too, couldn't even shoot penguin well enough to kill him. )

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. ( there's something a bit more important on their plates right now. and once jason gets to a quietish corner, he's turning himself back around, slow. careful. showing dick every move he makes, showing open hands the whole goddamn time because they both know what jason can do with those with two seconds of leeway. dick's being careful, jason will give him the same respect.

palms press flat into the wall once he gets the chance, body slouching back to rest his weight. )

We're not from the same side of the multiverse is my guess. Damian, he's here too. You know 'em?

[preceded]

Of course not.

[Dick wishes that were unusual- that he could count the number of times Jason has had an altercation with one of them, much less Bruce, on one hand. It isn't that he particularly believed that Jason was going to be forthcoming, but he'd expected a little more than that. Something that would stand out, something to help him differentiate one moment from another. That would help him piece together if there's a pattern between people from their multiverse or not.

Even steadier, more cooperative- it's apparent that Jason has his limits. As much as displeasure twists at the corner of his expression, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth to avoid saying anything else- anything that could be construed as more provoking, anything that let's out just how much even the shortened version of Bruce's name, still makes grief pulse sharp and painful beneath his rib cage- he still hovers unnecessarily near him, until Jason has himself situated firmly against the wall and looks likely to stay put for awhile yet.

In lieu of comfortable pocket space in these scrubs, he crosses his arms over his chest and considers the following information. A little more useful- but not by much. He's gonna unpack that a moment at a time. He's still feeling the effects of whatever they'd sedated him with- and he's not exactly looking to overwhelm himself any further]

What makes you say that? [So far, all he'd likely gleaned is that different timelines had been used- B has been gone for- too long. Anything passed the first few hours, was too long- and for Jason, it appears, that wasn't true. Beyond that, Jason hasn't given him anything more to work with. Damian on the other hand-

Right. One step at a time.]

[reneger]

Damian is here. ( he repeats, looks for a reaction on dick's face but it honestly doesn't matter if dick knows who he is. what matters is damian will recognize dick at a glance, will know who he is. if jason can do it, so can damian wayne. the wall isn't great, but it's better to rest against than standing straight. jason's--straining, but he isn't going anywhere. there's a lot to unpack, here. a lot to talk about.

not about himself, but. ) Damian, your Robin.

( that bit is important. maybe he's working with bruce now, but he started with dick. dick, who raised him. dick, who helped teach him what it was like to be a mildly normalish kid. dick who helped burned restraint into him. who gave damian the connection jason craved but never received. )

He's nineteen, angry. You died on him, asshole. ( despite the harshness of the words he says, jason's tone remains gentle. ) You died and his entire world fell apart, and he's getting to the point I was at years ago. Y'know. Ready to destroy everything in the entire goddamn world until it fit what I thought was right.

( body language still entirely open, jason raises a hand up. pulls off a faux leather glove with his teeth before grabbing it between fingers and shoving it down into his pocket. )

He needs his brother, I don't give a shit what universe you came from. ( this is important enough to accent that jason does let the gravel leak into his tone. ) You're gonna be there for him, or I'm gonna beat the shit out of you even if I bleed out in the process.

( this is why he dragged dick into a corner?? )

[preceded]

That's not-

[He cuts himself off before even Jason can, because how would he have finished a sentence such as this? Not what needs to be the priority here? If he were anyone else, or it was about anyone else- he might have made at least a token protest to drag things back on course. Continue to define the parameters Jason was working under to get here, before adding someone else's into the mix.

It's just- Jason keeps talking, and then doesn't stop. And every word spirals more into something that Dick feel more and more like he'd made a mistake. Like the very definition of insanity- doing the same thing over, and over and expecting a different result, when not one thing has ever indicated otherwise. The words sound ridiculous- even with his understanding of timelines, of alternate universes coming from the man before him, and Jason speaks low, like he's gentling the news that Dick really wouldn't want to hear, supposing they're true- and all Dick thinks, is he's hiding. Keeping others from listening in to a conversation that they have no part of being in. That he's just found one more way in a long list of them, to be able to provoke Dick when a physical altercation is beyond him.

Dick had spent every moment since Jason first called out to him, hovering near by, but waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hates, that at the first sign of that gravel leaking into his voice, at the threat he delivers, that he's faintly surprised that it does.

His expression completely shutters, mouth tight and angry, fingers digging into the skin of his own arms, closing him off entirely from Jason. He might not have been the most open to him at the start of this- but the difference is still startling. Sometimes, the more he wishes he were different from Bruce, the more like him he behaves]

You're wasting my time. [Sharp, dismissive and he backs up a step] You always have to do this, don't you Jason?

[Even in an alternate Earth, with foreign hardware grafted into their bodies, with who knows what hidden capabilities- You just need to a pick a fight. Poor Jason, and his inability to get adequate revenge, and to hell with everyone else]

[reneger]

No, I'm not. ( he recognizes this though, recognizes it well. this is dick grayson, reacting to stupid, overly violate jason todd. the jason who screamed and yelled at him until they came to take him away from arkham. the jason who tied him and damian up, who yelled threats and started shit because he didn't know how to deal with anything any other way. it's completely understandable. jason doesn't blame him one bit.

even if it hurts to see the reprucissions of his actions right in his face. dick backing away, when they were actually getting along for once. )

But you know me, right? Jason Todd, the asshole who couldn't stay in his damned grave and came back to fuck everyone over. Doesn't give a shit about anyone except himself, his own revenge, his own problems.

( voice still soft, even if he lets a little of his snide attitude slip into it. )

You're wrong. ( bare hand held out, palm up. an offering of sorts. ) Despite all the crap you losers've put me through, I put my family first. And that kid? He needs a nice, understanding brother. One who'll listen to his problems, help him. Not be a judgmental asshole. And I know you, Dick.

( the anger seeps back into his tone, but just. just barely. he's doing his best. )

One wrong step that you don't like and you give up. I don't give a shit. I'll be the family disappointment, whatever. I'm used to it. So's he. ( damian, who made a mistake. who fucked up and couldn't fix it. who watched dick die and was disowned by his own father. who lost everything in one fell swoop and jason's not letting that happen here. maybe he sucks at this. but he's trying. there's no resentment towards dick, either. nothing negative. he deserves this. jason earned his place. )

And you don't need me like he does.

[preceded]

[He scoffs, a dark, ugly sound in comparison to his normal approach to humour]

Is that what you thought you were doing?

[Putting them first, when he beat Tim to a pulp, on more than one occasion? When he cut his throat, or stabbed him in the chest and left him for dead? When he'd tried to convince Dick that he was? When he'd shot Damian, and a bullet had severed his artery? For all their drive, for all their fighting ability- they were still just children. Children in Dick's colours, that they'd been so proud to wear, like Jason had been once.

And he'd almost been the monster they would have seen in the dark- behind closed eyelids, instead of a wide, red stretching mouth. Had it been putting their family first, to take the first opportunity he had, to spit on Bruce's legacy? On Batman's? To try and ruin it, for the innocent's of Gotham who'd looked to him for safety?

He leaves it at that question- one they both really know the answer to. Jason might play revisionist history whenever it suits him, but in the end, the only agenda he'd ever served was his own. But he leaves it- because he can feel the angry creeping on him, in the tension along the line of his shoulders, in the press of his tongue to the back of his teeth to try and stall anything else from coming out.

He needs to control his temper, because the last thing he can afford is for this to escalate like it so often does. To take out his frustration at this situation, at the lack of answers, and his anger at Jason both on a man who can barely stand]

I gave up? [It's out of his mouth like the crack of a whip- loud, and faster than the rest of him can catch up with. Before, he might have been backing up, ready to leave Jason to whatever game he thought he was playing this time- but now he he moves forward, ignoring the residual shakiness in his limbs] After what you did? What, I was just supposed to let you-

[He stops short. Not because Jason's responding to him in kind, or because he's trying to rub in Dick's face all the apparent ways the family has failed him over the years, in trying to welcome him home, if only he'd let go of one, little thing. What stops him, is the feel of Jason's outstretched fingers, pressing into his chest. Starting to bend back with the force of how far Dick is leaning into it, doing the one thing he just said he tried to stop himself from doing.

His face twists, for a moment- and then the expression smooths itself out, breath exhaling harshly through his nose, before he steps back once more. This time, he doesn't go far, just enough to observe the concept of personal space. When he speaks- there's still anger, but it's smaller than the low blow had ignited] I didn't give up. You did. You didn't want any help. Not from me, or anyone else.

What I did- I did it for you, for Gotham. Even if you don't want to see that. [Or that you don't want to see that you really hadn't given him any other choice. He takes another long, steadying breath, hand scrubbing through his shorn hair, and glances away from the one brother who's never quite been happy to carry the title] Look, I don't want to fight with you, Jason. It's not going to help us get out of here, and if Damian is here, like you say- it's not going to help him either.

And- [He turns back to him, brow furrowing slightly, gesturing at his hand like he's just bothered to notice that this is completely abnormal behaviour- not just for his brother, but for anyone] And what are you doing?

[Seriously, did you forget that he was new?]

[reneger]

( they're both being absolute lunatics about this whole thing. jason's always fucked up, always crazy, no one even tries to think of a good excuse for why he starts screaming and causing havoc anymore. he's temperamental, a menace who doesn't know how the hell to control himself. which he's showing here, isn't he? that he is a loose cannon off a leach, ready to bite out bile the moment someone starts throwing it at him.

dick leans in, presses hard against the hand at jason's chest and he's four seconds from losing his shit, from pushing back and lashing out with fists because that's all jason todd knows how to do, isn't it. punch and hit and hurt.

not anymore. dick takes a moment to recenter himself, and so does jason. takes a breath in, lets it out. and takes a step forward, sliding that hand up (carefully, there's no indication of an attack, none of jason's muscles tense) and touch fingertips to just above the collar of dick's shirt. sparks the blue light from their chests, lets dick feel what he's feeling. )

I'm sorry. ( it's genuine, there's remorse behind his words. ) It's--an empathy bond. Sparked by touch. Weird as hell, I hate it, but.

( it helps with this. and makes it obvious that jason--isn't mad at dick. there's no anger or resentment directed towards dick, just that never-ending guilt, magnified by dick showing up. he's sorry he fucked up, sorry he broke a promise, sorry he's a huge piece of shit who can't even be there for the people he cares about properly. jason is a mess. but he's trying. )

Look. ( voice low, quiet, steady. ) I'm trying here. I'm shit at it. I know. I just-- ( god. nevermind. let's not go down that path. ) Things're different now. I'm not going to fight you, even if I was up to par to try it. I don't want to.

( he's hurt all of them enough already. jason's caused a lot of problems, he doesn't want to cause more. he just wanted to be part of something, fucked all that up enough on his own. deep breaths. there is still that anger, too, but it's. all at himself. all of it. jason is the fuck up. jason is the one who ruined everything. dick did nothing wrong. especially not a dick who apparently doesn't even know what the hell he's talking about. )

We're fine. Right? Fineish. We're not getting out of here any time soon, but I'm working on leads. I need you to take care of Damian. That's all I meant. I'm not here to start yelling at you.

[preceded]

[Just because the last thing he wants to do right now is fight with Jason, it doesn't mean he still isn't really expecting one- that he doesn't instinctively brace his feet and it's only the fact that Jason's own muscles don't tense, that he slides his hand up towards the base of Dick's neck, rather than darting out and getting it over with- that stops Dick from reaching out and stopping the hand from making contact.

After a moment, he almost wishes that he had. It's the sparks of blue that distract him first. The way it radiates through the barely there material of his shirt- the way it glows so much brighter beneath the bandages taped to Jason's. There's unease pricking along his skin- just another way that shows he's not something else, something he knows nothing about, and has no method to remove. Healed over so long, he hadn't even noticed anything had been placed there. Not at first.

His brother apologizes, and Dick stops staring at the space they're connected, and his eyes snap up to Jason's, head tilted back slightly to manage it] That's all you have to say?

[Just- weird as hell? After the surprise of the side effect passes, it's hard not to feel tugged under by the things that Jason feels. The guilt, ever present and so much at once- Dick almost has to wonder how he has room to feel anything else, and it takes him a second to differentiate the anger Jason feels from it. Softer, than he was expecting.

It's that, that has him letting out a slow breath, and reaching his hand up tentatively to curl around Jason's bare wrist] Okay, so. You're trying. I still am. I meant what I said.

[That what he did- however hard it was, however unfair, he only did because the city and Jason both needed him to. Because the brothers left under his care were counting on him to keep them safe, whether they really wanted to acknowledge it or not. There's regret, from his end of the bond- He doesn't know how to feel anything else, first and foremost where Jason is concerned. There's anger still too, at the situation at him- an apology, a feeling of guilt- it's not enough. Not for Dick, not right now. It's a start, and more than he's gotten where he's from- and he's starting to see that the man before him isn't the one he's familiar.

Never let it be said that he doesn't catch on eventually. More so, there's grief, an open wound that never quite heals, and far below that- faint, pain, guilt, so old and constant- that Dick hardly registers them as something that should not belong.]

Are we? Fine, that is?

[He thinks maybe, it's about time, that you circled back to the original questions he wanted to know. The things that he now thinks have some merit. What do you know about him, what kind of greeting were you really expecting?] What kind of leads? I'll take care of Damian- that's a given, but if you think I can't multitask-

[He's gonna get in your way so bad, just to make you regret it. There's a tentative smile, curling at the corner of his mouth- it feels wrong on his face, directed at Jason, after all these years] Anyone ever tell you that you need to work on your delivery?

[reneger]

Yeah, you. Numerous times. ( jason gave dick an in, physical contact, a hand to hold and he took it. it's--strange, he's not sure he likes it. especially not like this; he's not trapped but not free to go, either, and it makes dealing with all of this a shitton harder. dick was the shift in dick causes a shift in jason, too: less intensity, softening around the edges even if it's obvious from the touch dick has on him that he's not quite sure what the hell he's doing here.

the guilt lessens a bit when dick smiles, replaced with a kindness in turn: more relief than anything else. relieved that he's not fucking pissed, relieved that dick isn't still doing the Voice even if he has all kinds of reasons to justify it. jason is a fuck up. has caused so many problems. never learned to stop causing them and can't justify learning to now. he's set in his ways as much as dick is in his own--and they don't match up. their vision of justice is too different, regardless of how close they've become. )

We're mostly fine. Or were. ( softer still. the rage and irritation is gone, dick's stupid smile has the tendency to do that. they're not fighting, jason has no reason to get fighty. as long as no one notices. ) It's a long story. You've been back as NW for a while, 's far as when I'm from. Back in Bludhaven. We went on stakeouts every once in a while. Had Sunday brunches with the family. Extended ones included.

( kate kane, cassandra, steph, duke. luke. you know, the bunch. anyway-- )

Not your kinda leads.

( dick grayson fights from the shadows but not the ones jason prefers. he deals in shady business but doesn't get down and dirty with it, that's just fine, they all have their thing. jason will respect dick's, as long as dick doesn't bitch him out about the shit he pulls. which. obviously isn't going to last for long, but. jason lets that sit for a moment, follows it up quickly enough: )

And all that's kinda been put on hold, can't do much when I can't stretch out comfortably.

( holes in his chest sure are inconvenient. shoulders slump a bit and the empathy bond spikes up with discomfort as it stretches skin, causes strain against stitches. ) You're gonna have to find your own leads to follow. I'll share shit I think is relevant.

[preceded]

Maybe actually take it under advisement.

[He says it lightly, but he means it. If either of them were in a physical position to do something about it, Dick knows that this situation would have escalated much more quickly than it did, with a much slower down period, at the first sign of Jason's threatening comments.

When the further information comes- Dick can't stop the confusion from curling around the bond, or the way it makes his brows furrow. Can't help the soft pang of sorrow- longing. Thinking of Tim lately, his first little brother, if he's more honest with himself than he likes to be- hurts. He's pushed him away, made moves he can't undo- doesn't want to- and their already fractured family has broken even further as a result.

Even before then, something like this was so far out of reach, the idea of it is laughable. Except that he can see Jason means it, can feel that- There's a sharp pulse of grief, of guilt, of self-loathing, before Dick's trying to stamp it down has hard as he can.

Nightwing and Bludhaven are far removed from him now. The last thing he wants to do is get into it now, so rather shortly-] There is no Bludhaven. No NW. Just the big, bad B.

[And his tone does nothing to suggest he'll take arguments or questions on the subject. His grip on Jason's wrist slackens- almost like he's determined to draw away, when he can't control what does and doesn't come through the link- but this is the first time he's felt like he's understood Jason, even a little- so he's sticking it out for the moment, no matter how uncomfortable.

There's wry amusement- the kind that strongly suggests, 'nice try'. He can't say he wasn't expecting it- but the more loathe Jason is to share the information or what he's doing- experience says it's more necessary for Dick to get involved, if only so all involved parties walk away.

The discomfort he'd felt earlier only gets stronger, and it takes Dick a moment to realize it's not coming from him- but crests with the way Jason moves. His head tilts, regarding him carefully]

What happened to you?

[reneger]

So you're back in his clothes. Or still in them, timeline depending. ( good to know. not that jason's ever going to stop and think about dick grayson as actually batman. he was fill in. will probably fill in again. it's--nothing against grayson, either. just he likes dick a lot more than he appreciates bruce right now, and the associations with the suit go a bit more negative than jason really wants to contemplate right now.

all things considered. his own hand drops it's weight, but he doesn't force or try to pull out of dick's grip. lets him have it. the empathy link provides a few things: the push and pull of emotion that shows jason doesn't have any rage directed dick's way, shows he's calm, quiet. doesn't want to hurt anyone. and shows jason about where dick stands, too. if that's what it'll take to keep dick off his ass, he's willing to give it.

for now. it won't last long, because jason can only keep himself so calm, too. he may be more tame than he used to be, but never quite got around to those anger management classes. )

Ah, this lil thing? ( with his free hand raising up, gesturing to the center of his chest. ) Little D and I wanted to figure out what the glowy parts were. Turns out, there's nothing there--just bone. And it's probably not a great idea to start sawing into bones, shit takes a lot longer to heal than a little flesh wound. So.

( maybe he did let their youngest perform surgery on him, whatever! it hurts, but it's manageable pain. he's recovering. )

Got stabbed a few times, too. You've missed out on all the fun.

( it wasn't fun. and god, he's not looking forward to dick being stuck in the middle of all this shit. it was hard enough with him and damian. trying to keep an eye on steph and kara, too. at least dick is better at people managing than jason is, means he doesn't have to worry about that. )