Fic: Born Under a Bad Sign - Chapter 2
Title: Born Under a Bad Sign - Chapter 2
Fandom: DCU [which does not belong to me btw]
Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson
Rating: PG- NC-17
Thanks to Sharon as always! <3
Warnings: full warnings in the prologue, Violence.
Summary: The world is in ruins, the justice league is gone, and like many others who have tried fighting for their freedom, Jason Todd is in prison. He finds help from an unexpected source.
The New Screws at Old Gate had a novel way to get the Fish to pick a cell to sleep in; from the bell, you had no more than five minutes to get to your cell before they zapped you. Then the guards would throw your twitching and often vomiting self into a cage - some folks just got tossed in wherever there was space, others would have been bargained for in advance. Sometimes there was something that resembled a chaotic auction; people shouting out offers, trying to out bid each other. The unlucky prisoner would not be in any state to protest against whatever the bidders had in mind for them. You were only late to your cell once, but usually that was all it took.
Jason had about 5 hours to approach Dick and explain this to him, make him believe it, and get him safely inside Jason’s own cell - or at least away from the Red Snake. The Machete16 were pretty awful too. Their leader hated Jason a great deal, unreasonably so in Jason’s opinion. He was pretty sure he hadn’t actually done anything to the bastard; maybe he just didn’t like his face. Doubtful though.
“Boy,” Fahim poked him in the ribs. Jason really wished he wouldn’t do that - it took a lot of effort not to react.
“I’m not a boy.”
“You’re just a whippersnapper.”
Jason indicated the breadth of his shoulders. “Do I look little to you old man?” he asked, not hiding the growl in his voice.
Fahim just snorted at him. “You’re young - not as stupid as most your age, but young.” He shifted his feet slightly. “What you going to do about your ‘opportunity?’ He ain't going to last the night - might not last the day. Hard though it is, it might be best to cut your losses. Nothing but trouble there.”
Jason winced. The situation wasn’t ideal - he could still make it work though, despite the huge target Dick had painted across his own back. “He doesn’t understand the way things work here, but I can bring him to heel. I’d better, if we ever want to get out of here. We need a way in and he could be the perfect bargaining chip.”
Fahim just raised a brow in mild disapproval.
“You know me better than that,” Jason said. “If I plan things right we can all get out of this without any of us being too badly damaged - except for Red Snake, hopefully.” He smirked. “First I need to persuade the Golden Boy I’m on his side, then I need to make a show of it.”
“Risky revealing your hand like that.”
“Yeah, but when the performance is done they’re going to invite me to be an enforcer in exchange for my bitch - I prove my skill and give them what they want.” Jason grinned at him, aware he was showing to many teeth to be comfortable, “and then they let us in and we take them out.”
Fahim didn’t look convinced, but he nodded his head. “You take them out and we get cell two and from there, freedom.”
“That’s the plan,” Jason said.
The problem with plans involving other people was that the variables were never what you expected them to be. Nobody did what you wanted, and you were left with nothing to do but improvise.
It started out OK - dinner in the chow hall was a chaotic affair, and Jason knew to wait his turn. In fact he was happy to get his food towards the end of the rush.
As he shuffled along in the line he kept half an eye on his surroundings whilst he scanned the area he had last seen Dick - he couldn’t spot him from his current position, but as things were quiet he figured he was alright for the moment.
The server of the day seemed to consist mostly of beard and paunch and he was smoking as he dished out some sort of brownish grey slop. It smelt like old, meaty things and Jason grimaced as it hit his plate with a splat. Most prison grub sucked, but this shit? Took nasty-assed food to a new level. Fahim assured him that you eventually got used to the taste, if not the suspiciously stringy texture, but he was yet to manage a meal without wincing.
Jason weaved his normal route through the hall, giving the center tables a wide berth. Dick was seated in a well defensible position against the wall at the base of the stairs. Jason’s lips twitched into a small smile, it was almost the exact same place he had chosen to sit on his first day.
Daddy’s training kicking in.
Unlike Jason on his first day however, Dick was still in his boxers, and the T-shirt he wore was stained with blood. A quick visual inspection and Jason concluded none of it appeared to be his. Despite his brother’s carefully neutral expression Jason could see past the outward calm, there was an aura of tension and watchfulness rolling off him in waves. An observation that was proved true when Dick’s dark blue gaze immediately came up to meet his before he even got within ten feet.
Jason ignored the blank stare and sunk gracefully to the floor. Dick barely twitched, although his grip on his spork shifted slightly, making it a more efficient weapon should he attempt to stab someone with it.
Just in case, Jason made sure he held his tray in a position he could repel a possible attack.
Family meetings were such fun.
They stared at each other some more. Dick’s hair was a little too long, but he looked healthy, if a little wan, and he just exuded that calm confidence that made him so bloody annoying.
The silenced stretched between them.
It made Jason’s skin itch, so finally he just grinned, perhaps showing a few more teeth than was strictly necessary but damn, this was irritating.
Dick’s expression didn’t change.
The staring match was pissing Jason off. “Hey Dick,” he said, aiming for casual but not quite managing it. The tone might have been a tiny bit snarky.
Dick rolled his eyes and sneered at him. “Surely you can do better than that” he said, lip still curled in disdain. “The man whose fingers I broke earlier called me a ‘cock sucking pretty boy’.”
Jason had learnt to trust his instincts when dealing with people - even before Bruce, growing up on the streets had already equipped him with a healthy dose of pessimism and a survivors ability to read people. There was something very off about this meeting, something more than the usual guarded aggression between him and his adopted brother.
“Greetings, oh wonder boy?” he tried.
Dick huffed and furrowed his brow, pushing out his lower lip in a slight pout. “That’s a little less insulting,” he said.
“I thought I was very polite.”
“You called me a dick.”
… and that was the point where Jason realized what was wrong. Dick’s expression was full of suspicion - normal, anger - normal and caution - normal, but there was not even a flicker of recognition.
Well Shit.
Ex-med. Right.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” he asked.
“Should I?”
Jason rubbed his temples; this could be the answer to his prayers or blow up in his face. He needed more data. “Just a bit, yeah.” He said “I’m slightly insulted Dickie-bird - how could you forget a face like mine?” he waved his hand, almost dislodging his tray. “Our illustrious history?”
Dick just stared at him, his expression carefully blank again. “Dickie-bird?” he said at last. “Is that some kind of euphemism?”
Oh good god, the fun he could have with this situation.
Although his gut told his this was real, Jason needed to be sure this wasn’t some elaborate plot to… do something. He kept an eye out for any sort of signal his brother was undercover or even just faking it. He saw none.
“It’s your name.” Jason said after a moment of close scrutiny.
Dick did not look impressed. “My name is Dickie?” he asked, his voice warring between indignation and disbelief.
Jason couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “Dick; short for Richard. Fuck knows why you decided to name yourself after your penis rather than go for something like Rick or Ritchie as a nickname.”
“My name is Richard?” Dick looked thoughtful, and he mouthed the name again, like he was trying on a colorful shirt to see if it suited him. Although that might be a poor analogy when dealing with Dick, as his taste in clothes was, frankly, appalling.
Dick’s gaze hardened. “How do I know you’re telling the truth,” he asked.
Jason scoffed. ”Who would make up a name like Dick?”
“A smart ass,” Dick replied, without missing a beat.
Jason nodded and held up a finger. “Point” he said, smirking, “but what would my objective be?”
“In here? Could be anything.” The scorn in Dicks voice, and the way his eyes flicked over Jason’s body, pretty solidly implied what he thought Jason’s motivations might be.
“Get over yourself dude, there are plenty of moderately attractive guys in this place - you may have a pretty face, buts its not like I would be staring into my punk’s eyes as I fucked him.”
“I’m not pretty,” Dick said indignantly. Way to totally miss the point.
He was just being difficult, so Jason went for his usual tactic and ignored him. “And you have that fine athletic body, but I happen to know its covered in scars.” He pointed at Dick’s chest, raising his eyebrows.
Dick almost rose to the bait and his eyes widened, but then they narrowed to dark blue slits. “Are you trying to be smart? You can see scaring on my arms and legs; it’s not that much of a stretch to think I might have them elsewhere. Your observation proves nothing, other than the fact you can see, and make occasional leaps of logic.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a bitch?”
“Is that a hint?” He smirked.
Dick was the most annoying person on the planet, memories or not, but there was a large part of Jason that loved the verbal sparring - he just wished, that in this instance, that there wasn’t so much resting on it.
“Look,” he said, keeping his voice as level as possible, “I saw you fight earlier - nice going by the way - and here you are sitting covered in someone else’s blood. If I wanted to get myself a bitch, I would go for easier prey. I got nothing to prove to anybody.”
“So why don’t you stop flapping your mouth and tell me what you want?” Dick said.
“God, were you always this rude?”
“You’re the one that claims to know me, you tell me.”
“Oh I do know you,” Jason said, he forced himself to sit back, relax the tension in the hand holding his tray. “I know you as an honorable man, someone who will stick up for others.” He gestured with his free arm. “In here? You won’t survive without help. You have to be cold, a killer, to stay on top of things. And that’s not you.”
Dick didn’t look impressed. “If you saw me fight, you would know I can look after myself. I don’t need your help.” He paused and furrowed his brow. “You never introduced yourself.”
“Jason, Jason… Foxx.” He had kept his real name to himself so far, and with Dick in this state, he wasn’t going to trust him with it.
“Well Mr. Foxx, I’m fine on my own - you want to rescue someone? Go find some poor soul who needs it.”
Jason snorted. “Some advice Dickie bird. Your pretty face is going to cause you some trouble, but not as much as your quick fists and smart mouth - learn your place, learn the rules.” Jason rose smoothly to his feet. “You know how they control us in here?” he asked. Dick cocked his head and Jason sighed - the next week or so was going to suck, he could just tell. “They implanted a microchip of some kind into your body - sort of like they do for dogs to stop them getting lost - except these bastards have us linked up to a nasty little system. You misbehave and they shock you - it hurts like a motherfucker and can completely incapacitate you. Understand?”
“Yeah, don’t mess with the guards?”
“And you got rule number one - but when the bell goes, you have five minutes to be in your cell, any cell, or you will be too out of it to defend yourself. All the skills in the world won’t save you, got it?”
Dick nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate the advice - although I am still going to make my own way.”
“Fine, no pressure - but watch yourself, and get a jumpsuit. That might help get the target off your back.”
It wouldn’t though, not after his fight with BS Benson. Ninja skills or not there was only so much one man could do against a prison full of scumbags. Jason just had to make that work in his favor. Should be a piece of cake.
Right.
Fandom: DCU [which does not belong to me btw]
Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson
Rating: PG- NC-17
Thanks to Sharon as always! <3
Warnings: full warnings in the prologue, Violence.
Summary: The world is in ruins, the justice league is gone, and like many others who have tried fighting for their freedom, Jason Todd is in prison. He finds help from an unexpected source.
The New Screws at Old Gate had a novel way to get the Fish to pick a cell to sleep in; from the bell, you had no more than five minutes to get to your cell before they zapped you. Then the guards would throw your twitching and often vomiting self into a cage - some folks just got tossed in wherever there was space, others would have been bargained for in advance. Sometimes there was something that resembled a chaotic auction; people shouting out offers, trying to out bid each other. The unlucky prisoner would not be in any state to protest against whatever the bidders had in mind for them. You were only late to your cell once, but usually that was all it took.
Jason had about 5 hours to approach Dick and explain this to him, make him believe it, and get him safely inside Jason’s own cell - or at least away from the Red Snake. The Machete16 were pretty awful too. Their leader hated Jason a great deal, unreasonably so in Jason’s opinion. He was pretty sure he hadn’t actually done anything to the bastard; maybe he just didn’t like his face. Doubtful though.
“Boy,” Fahim poked him in the ribs. Jason really wished he wouldn’t do that - it took a lot of effort not to react.
“I’m not a boy.”
“You’re just a whippersnapper.”
Jason indicated the breadth of his shoulders. “Do I look little to you old man?” he asked, not hiding the growl in his voice.
Fahim just snorted at him. “You’re young - not as stupid as most your age, but young.” He shifted his feet slightly. “What you going to do about your ‘opportunity?’ He ain't going to last the night - might not last the day. Hard though it is, it might be best to cut your losses. Nothing but trouble there.”
Jason winced. The situation wasn’t ideal - he could still make it work though, despite the huge target Dick had painted across his own back. “He doesn’t understand the way things work here, but I can bring him to heel. I’d better, if we ever want to get out of here. We need a way in and he could be the perfect bargaining chip.”
Fahim just raised a brow in mild disapproval.
“You know me better than that,” Jason said. “If I plan things right we can all get out of this without any of us being too badly damaged - except for Red Snake, hopefully.” He smirked. “First I need to persuade the Golden Boy I’m on his side, then I need to make a show of it.”
“Risky revealing your hand like that.”
“Yeah, but when the performance is done they’re going to invite me to be an enforcer in exchange for my bitch - I prove my skill and give them what they want.” Jason grinned at him, aware he was showing to many teeth to be comfortable, “and then they let us in and we take them out.”
Fahim didn’t look convinced, but he nodded his head. “You take them out and we get cell two and from there, freedom.”
“That’s the plan,” Jason said.
The problem with plans involving other people was that the variables were never what you expected them to be. Nobody did what you wanted, and you were left with nothing to do but improvise.
It started out OK - dinner in the chow hall was a chaotic affair, and Jason knew to wait his turn. In fact he was happy to get his food towards the end of the rush.
As he shuffled along in the line he kept half an eye on his surroundings whilst he scanned the area he had last seen Dick - he couldn’t spot him from his current position, but as things were quiet he figured he was alright for the moment.
The server of the day seemed to consist mostly of beard and paunch and he was smoking as he dished out some sort of brownish grey slop. It smelt like old, meaty things and Jason grimaced as it hit his plate with a splat. Most prison grub sucked, but this shit? Took nasty-assed food to a new level. Fahim assured him that you eventually got used to the taste, if not the suspiciously stringy texture, but he was yet to manage a meal without wincing.
Jason weaved his normal route through the hall, giving the center tables a wide berth. Dick was seated in a well defensible position against the wall at the base of the stairs. Jason’s lips twitched into a small smile, it was almost the exact same place he had chosen to sit on his first day.
Daddy’s training kicking in.
Unlike Jason on his first day however, Dick was still in his boxers, and the T-shirt he wore was stained with blood. A quick visual inspection and Jason concluded none of it appeared to be his. Despite his brother’s carefully neutral expression Jason could see past the outward calm, there was an aura of tension and watchfulness rolling off him in waves. An observation that was proved true when Dick’s dark blue gaze immediately came up to meet his before he even got within ten feet.
Jason ignored the blank stare and sunk gracefully to the floor. Dick barely twitched, although his grip on his spork shifted slightly, making it a more efficient weapon should he attempt to stab someone with it.
Just in case, Jason made sure he held his tray in a position he could repel a possible attack.
Family meetings were such fun.
They stared at each other some more. Dick’s hair was a little too long, but he looked healthy, if a little wan, and he just exuded that calm confidence that made him so bloody annoying.
The silenced stretched between them.
It made Jason’s skin itch, so finally he just grinned, perhaps showing a few more teeth than was strictly necessary but damn, this was irritating.
Dick’s expression didn’t change.
The staring match was pissing Jason off. “Hey Dick,” he said, aiming for casual but not quite managing it. The tone might have been a tiny bit snarky.
Dick rolled his eyes and sneered at him. “Surely you can do better than that” he said, lip still curled in disdain. “The man whose fingers I broke earlier called me a ‘cock sucking pretty boy’.”
Jason had learnt to trust his instincts when dealing with people - even before Bruce, growing up on the streets had already equipped him with a healthy dose of pessimism and a survivors ability to read people. There was something very off about this meeting, something more than the usual guarded aggression between him and his adopted brother.
“Greetings, oh wonder boy?” he tried.
Dick huffed and furrowed his brow, pushing out his lower lip in a slight pout. “That’s a little less insulting,” he said.
“I thought I was very polite.”
“You called me a dick.”
… and that was the point where Jason realized what was wrong. Dick’s expression was full of suspicion - normal, anger - normal and caution - normal, but there was not even a flicker of recognition.
Well Shit.
Ex-med. Right.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” he asked.
“Should I?”
Jason rubbed his temples; this could be the answer to his prayers or blow up in his face. He needed more data. “Just a bit, yeah.” He said “I’m slightly insulted Dickie-bird - how could you forget a face like mine?” he waved his hand, almost dislodging his tray. “Our illustrious history?”
Dick just stared at him, his expression carefully blank again. “Dickie-bird?” he said at last. “Is that some kind of euphemism?”
Oh good god, the fun he could have with this situation.
Although his gut told his this was real, Jason needed to be sure this wasn’t some elaborate plot to… do something. He kept an eye out for any sort of signal his brother was undercover or even just faking it. He saw none.
“It’s your name.” Jason said after a moment of close scrutiny.
Dick did not look impressed. “My name is Dickie?” he asked, his voice warring between indignation and disbelief.
Jason couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “Dick; short for Richard. Fuck knows why you decided to name yourself after your penis rather than go for something like Rick or Ritchie as a nickname.”
“My name is Richard?” Dick looked thoughtful, and he mouthed the name again, like he was trying on a colorful shirt to see if it suited him. Although that might be a poor analogy when dealing with Dick, as his taste in clothes was, frankly, appalling.
Dick’s gaze hardened. “How do I know you’re telling the truth,” he asked.
Jason scoffed. ”Who would make up a name like Dick?”
“A smart ass,” Dick replied, without missing a beat.
Jason nodded and held up a finger. “Point” he said, smirking, “but what would my objective be?”
“In here? Could be anything.” The scorn in Dicks voice, and the way his eyes flicked over Jason’s body, pretty solidly implied what he thought Jason’s motivations might be.
“Get over yourself dude, there are plenty of moderately attractive guys in this place - you may have a pretty face, buts its not like I would be staring into my punk’s eyes as I fucked him.”
“I’m not pretty,” Dick said indignantly. Way to totally miss the point.
He was just being difficult, so Jason went for his usual tactic and ignored him. “And you have that fine athletic body, but I happen to know its covered in scars.” He pointed at Dick’s chest, raising his eyebrows.
Dick almost rose to the bait and his eyes widened, but then they narrowed to dark blue slits. “Are you trying to be smart? You can see scaring on my arms and legs; it’s not that much of a stretch to think I might have them elsewhere. Your observation proves nothing, other than the fact you can see, and make occasional leaps of logic.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a bitch?”
“Is that a hint?” He smirked.
Dick was the most annoying person on the planet, memories or not, but there was a large part of Jason that loved the verbal sparring - he just wished, that in this instance, that there wasn’t so much resting on it.
“Look,” he said, keeping his voice as level as possible, “I saw you fight earlier - nice going by the way - and here you are sitting covered in someone else’s blood. If I wanted to get myself a bitch, I would go for easier prey. I got nothing to prove to anybody.”
“So why don’t you stop flapping your mouth and tell me what you want?” Dick said.
“God, were you always this rude?”
“You’re the one that claims to know me, you tell me.”
“Oh I do know you,” Jason said, he forced himself to sit back, relax the tension in the hand holding his tray. “I know you as an honorable man, someone who will stick up for others.” He gestured with his free arm. “In here? You won’t survive without help. You have to be cold, a killer, to stay on top of things. And that’s not you.”
Dick didn’t look impressed. “If you saw me fight, you would know I can look after myself. I don’t need your help.” He paused and furrowed his brow. “You never introduced yourself.”
“Jason, Jason… Foxx.” He had kept his real name to himself so far, and with Dick in this state, he wasn’t going to trust him with it.
“Well Mr. Foxx, I’m fine on my own - you want to rescue someone? Go find some poor soul who needs it.”
Jason snorted. “Some advice Dickie bird. Your pretty face is going to cause you some trouble, but not as much as your quick fists and smart mouth - learn your place, learn the rules.” Jason rose smoothly to his feet. “You know how they control us in here?” he asked. Dick cocked his head and Jason sighed - the next week or so was going to suck, he could just tell. “They implanted a microchip of some kind into your body - sort of like they do for dogs to stop them getting lost - except these bastards have us linked up to a nasty little system. You misbehave and they shock you - it hurts like a motherfucker and can completely incapacitate you. Understand?”
“Yeah, don’t mess with the guards?”
“And you got rule number one - but when the bell goes, you have five minutes to be in your cell, any cell, or you will be too out of it to defend yourself. All the skills in the world won’t save you, got it?”
Dick nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate the advice - although I am still going to make my own way.”
“Fine, no pressure - but watch yourself, and get a jumpsuit. That might help get the target off your back.”
It wouldn’t though, not after his fight with BS Benson. Ninja skills or not there was only so much one man could do against a prison full of scumbags. Jason just had to make that work in his favor. Should be a piece of cake.
Right.