(no subject)
Two Batmen. Two.
And two Robins. Perchance more than two, counting the shrimp in red tights who look so much like a younger Tim. Which, mathematically speaking, makes two Replacements (one of whom is an impostor) and the Replacement of the Replacement.
And two Batgirls. Okay, maybe Shiva's little girl is Batgirl no more, but she does the same thing the blondie does. And about Goldilocks... Well Stephie, look who's back from the dead, hm?
Jason narrows his eyes at the several monitors in the room, rubbing his forehead.
There's a big mess. In the city. In his head. On his head. Red hair. White strand. Black roots. Can red hair have black roots?
All is double. Fuzzy. Everything is. And sometimes lines get blurred, as if everything was underwater.
Nausea. Dizziness. Pain. Cold.
Fuck. What a mess.
... what was he thinking of?
Ah, yeah. About the sudden rise in Gotham's City nocturnal fauna population. Bats, songbirds and chicks.
To think that when HE told Dickie that Batman was but a BRAND, the Golden Boy told Jason that he was crazy.
Free market is based on something called competition. And Jason knows he still is the best option in town, because he offers better services. The Batman Corp just hides the garbage. Where as the Red Hood gets rid of it for good.
He blinks at one of the monitors, at the broadcast image of the batsignal shining against the dark sky. Symbol. Brand. Truth. Lie. Certainty. Deception. So dear. So hated.
Jason shuts his lips tightly together.
... he needs a pill before the patrol. Some nights it really feels like he has got another person inside his skull...
And two Robins. Perchance more than two, counting the shrimp in red tights who look so much like a younger Tim. Which, mathematically speaking, makes two Replacements (one of whom is an impostor) and the Replacement of the Replacement.
And two Batgirls. Okay, maybe Shiva's little girl is Batgirl no more, but she does the same thing the blondie does. And about Goldilocks... Well Stephie, look who's back from the dead, hm?
Jason narrows his eyes at the several monitors in the room, rubbing his forehead.
There's a big mess. In the city. In his head. On his head. Red hair. White strand. Black roots. Can red hair have black roots?
All is double. Fuzzy. Everything is. And sometimes lines get blurred, as if everything was underwater.
Nausea. Dizziness. Pain. Cold.
Fuck. What a mess.
... what was he thinking of?
Ah, yeah. About the sudden rise in Gotham's City nocturnal fauna population. Bats, songbirds and chicks.
To think that when HE told Dickie that Batman was but a BRAND, the Golden Boy told Jason that he was crazy.
Free market is based on something called competition. And Jason knows he still is the best option in town, because he offers better services. The Batman Corp just hides the garbage. Where as the Red Hood gets rid of it for good.
He blinks at one of the monitors, at the broadcast image of the batsignal shining against the dark sky. Symbol. Brand. Truth. Lie. Certainty. Deception. So dear. So hated.
Jason shuts his lips tightly together.
... he needs a pill before the patrol. Some nights it really feels like he has got another person inside his skull...