Who: Jack Kelly [
cowboy_newsie] and Batman [
kingofrooks], Black Mask [
ebony_mask] and Batman [see above].
When: The 16th, post-sirens.
Where: Black Mask's hideout.
Summary: Batman finally finds out where Black Mask is keeping Jack. He goes for a rescue. Then Black Mask comes back.
Warnings: Violence. Mentions/explicit descriptions of torture, gore, drugs and drug abuse. Stuff like
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He doesn't jerk awake so much as shiver so. One moment he's lying against the wall, curled into as tight a ball as the chains on his ankles and wrists will allow-- and the next he's scrambling to stand, swaying as he does.
He's a strange dichotomy. Covered from head to toe in blood and vomit, clothes torn and filthy, body too thin, eyes dark with exhaustion and bright with terror-- but perfectly whole, perfectly healthy. There isn't an injury on him, not a cut finger or scraped knee.
He stares at Batman, dumbfounded, his chest rising and falling sharply in fear. For a few brief seconds, Jack does nothing but stare, trembling so badly the chains rattle against the wall.
Abruptly he falls to the ground, kneeling, his head cradled in his hands as his eyes close tightly.]
Go away-- go away, go away--
[He whispers it, chants it to himself, hoping it will work. If his hallucinations have gotten this bad, if the fantasy world he's been escaping to in his head is spilling over into reality, that means he's farther gone than he thought. He won't lose it, he swore to himself, he won't go mad here.
Not permanently, anyway.]
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Batman walks forward, and lets the anger he feels curl within himself, shoving it to the back of his mind. There is no use panicking or being angry; there is no use in feeling the hint of bile at the back of his throat, choking him and strangling his words until he can't even feel the edges of them. He no longer thinks in words, but only in pictures- in violence. ]
I'm not going away.
[ He can hear those little whispers, those little whimpers. Batman moves fast, and he's already taking the lockpicks from the slit in his armour, slipping them into the lock and pulling the chains away from Jack.
All of the sudden, he loves the dichotomy of Black Mask's ebony skull against the white of his throat, and the darkness of his own leather glove against it. All of the sudden, he wonders how the man will look when the one vaguely human thing about him is extinguished, and if he will scream too loudly if Batman curls his thumbs and drives them into his eyes, over and over, until he screams and blood pours down his face, streaking the black with red and white and gore.
He shakes his head a little, and folds that image carefully in his mind to tuck it away. Instead, his hands wrap around the boy, and in this moment Batman thinks that he looks so different from Bruce Wayne. Pristine in his skin, so thin and scared, shivering and vulnerable in a way Bruce Wayne can only pretend to be, because he has strangled every single bit of himself that might ever be vulnerable.
Reaching back, he unclasps his cape away from the cowl, and drapes the heavy Kevlar-weave around Jack's shoulders. His arms are curled around Jack's shoulders and his thighs, holding him up and close. The blood is getting all over his armour, but right now he doesn't care. Time is of the essence. ]
I'm getting you out of here. [ His voice is rough and deep, distorted like a monster's, but the tone is gentle, quiet, and he holds Jack tight against himself as he starts for the stairs. ]
He's not going to touch you ever again.
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And that's relaxing, in a way. If it's a dream, if this isn't real, then he won't make it. He'll wake up in that basement again, an IV in his arm, Roman grinning in the corner as he sharpens a blade or readies a drill. And that's the way it's going to be, so he might as well enjoy this now while his mind is caught here.
They're beyond the stairs when Jack remembers something.]
There's . . . the other man. Back there, in the . . . did you get him?
[His tone is calm, now, his gaze relaxed as he stares up at Batman. This is a dream. This is a dream and nothing truly matters.]
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I'm coming back to get him later.
[ So young. So incredibly young. Batman fades into Bruce for a moment as he sits Jack onto the motorcycle, and his gauntleted hand brushes his hair away for a moment. ]
Right now I'm getting you to the hospital. Do you have a favourite doctor?
[ He's speaking to Jack like he's a young child, far younger than the teenager that he really is. But there is something broken in those brown eyes so like his own that Bruce can't really help it, and he inhales in sharply again, and tries to stop his mind from imagining situations where he gets to beat Roman to death. ]
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Don't need a doctor. I can-- you know I can heal.
[He glances around him a bit curiously, his wariness growing as it slowly steals over him that this might not be a dream. He stiffens beneath the cape, his eyes darting up and down the road as if he might see Roman marching toward him that very minute.]
Sirius. Take me home, I gotta-- and I need your NV, I gotta tell Bruce somethin', please--
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You're suffering from malnutrition. [ Flatly, and he's breaking several speed limits, but no one cares, in the Darkness. And he's leaning a little too close to Jack, so he can actually speak to him. ] You need a doctor.
[ They are almost at Skye's. Bruce swerves suddenly, losing the monster that's trying to pounce on them from the shadows of a building. ]
Sionis isn't going to touch anyone else. [ He's made sure of that. ] Tell Wayne whatever you like later.
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Tell Sirius-- tell him I'm at Skye. Text him. Please.
[He slumps against Batman, closing his eyes, nauseous from the movement.]
Daedalus. He's-- he knows me best.
[Another short pause.]
How-- how'd you know I were there?
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Black will be the first to know.
[ Bruce Wayne promised, after all, and he likes to think that he keeps the promises that he can. He's starting to slow down, reaching the emergency ward of Skye's, and he doesn't answer Jack's question. Instead, he swings his legs off of the motorbike, reaching out to sweep Jack into his arms again, and ducks into the hospital.
He's still a wanted man, and he knows that Yumeno isn't here to keep them off of him. He knows he's literally running into a well-lit area surrounded by people, with doors that can close with a flip of a switch, and he'll be fully out in the open.
Right now, he doesn't care. ]
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Now that he's a bit more coherent, it's slightly embarrassing to be carried this way-- but Jack's simply too exhausted to give much of a damn. The only move he makes is to glare tiredly at anyone who meets his eyes.]
You didn't answer me question. How'd you know I were there? I didn't-- nobody knew. Everybody thought I'd been ported out. Sirius thought that and he's got a million trackin' charms on me.
[He's becoming more coherent, his speech less slurred and distant as he grows more and more in touch with reality. His rough and tumble New York accent-- faded this past year-- is back full-force.]
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I wasn't looking for you. Sionis was too greedy, and he slipped.
[ There's a smile here, and it's an ugly thing. It promises pain, and vengeance, and many other unpleasant things for Black Mask. And he knows he's not telling the truth- but what reason does Batman have to look for Jack Kelly, when he barely even speaks to him? The only thing that ties them together is Black Mask, and Bruce is used enough to lying that the lie comes easily enough. ]
I'll find Yumeno and Black. Don't try to escape.
[ And he's pulling away, heading for the door. ]
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Oye!
[He hesitates for just a moment.]
Thanks. I owe you.
[Whether Batman realizes it and whether he takes it, the offer is legitimate.]
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No. You don't. [ And he flips something backwards- something he found on Sionis's table when he's carrying Jack out.
It's Jack's own NV. Bruce has switched it on just a couple of minutes earlier, and before Jack can say anything about it, he's already gone, out of the door and ack onto the motorcycle, and roaring down the streets. At the same time, he switches his own NV and sends a text message to Sirius Black.
It's probably classified knowledge of some sort, Daedalus Yumeno's nightly location. But Batman has his ways, and he's already moving down to Sector 2, deep within the labs that are still open. He parks a little away from the laboratory that Daedalus works at. There's blood on his armour, but the cape - which he recovered from Jack - is enough to cover, and he's already starting to slip in.
Usually, this would be much more difficult. But Jack is predictable enough, and Bruce has already known that he'll choose Yumeno. He knows this place's security well.
It's going to be quick to grab the doctor and hustle him back to the bike. Then he'll have to deal with the biggest issue, and find a way to get rid of the low-coiling anger, tight like iron bands across his chest. ]
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Fiddling with slides, checking off checklists, preparing new vectors and forming ideal matches. The walls are white, this facility immaculate and sterile- sterile with the exception of the contents of all the carefully labelled, organized tubes.
There's a soft, droning, ambient pulse of noise coming from the smooth speakers in the ceiling, but other than that soothing rhythm it's peaceful, meticulous work, almost blissfully quiet in its solitude of bending over microscope imaging, in comparison to Skye Medical's ER and the constant clamor of trama.
Daedalus has almost relaxed wholly into his night job, and it's barely been a month into it. After being buried in the ground, he needs this kind of placid stability tonight.
But all that is interrupted by a swift and disorienting flap of black closing about his shoulders- he drops a stylus, it goes rolling as he makes a yelp of protest, already having been swept off one-time-too-many, this week.
So the first sound out of his mouth is a startled squall. His body goes rigid.
No one unauthorized should have clearance here! And he barely has time to look up, to recognize the figure, and acknowledge fully- Batman shouldn't have clearance here!
The why is an even more terrifying question to consider.]
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Batman doesn't say much, only striding forward. He ducks down, placing his shoulder against Yumeno's waist, throws himself forward then up, and he now has Yumeno slung over his shoulder. ]
Jack Kelly needs your help.
[ That's the whole of the explanation before he's flying down the corridors again, heading towards the exit of the building and his motorcycle so he can get Yumeno to Skye. ]
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But then his world is completely up-ended, shouldered with a strength he somehow never intended any man to possesses (A defensive-type entourage, perhaps, but not-) But this is Batman.
This is-
No time for speculations like that. His lab is getting further and further away down the hall, still unlocked, and Daedalus is still not entirely certain this isn't some new kind of abduction.]
But I can't just-! [He protests, clutching to the cape because that's the only way to stop the sensation of tipping, and there's so much he'd say if not for security and the racing fear they might be shot at by some security guards.]
I'm on shift! [He hisses, and it might as well be an explicative.
But the name finally connects, the message, his first thought is: Oh God, Jack Kelly- what has Re-l gotten herself into now?]
He's been found!? [Daedalus whispers, the minute they hit those doubled darkness sealing doors.]
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There we go. The crackling of a PA system. Batman doesn't wait to hear what they say, only telling Yumeno- ]
He's been found. Close your eyes and hold on.
[ A confirmation and a warning and instructions all rolled into one. Batman dives into the corner of shadows, one foot sinking into it and pulling Yumeno with him. He breathes quietly, and steps out on the other side of the road, the laboratory's white lights hard and glaring against their eyes.
He moves over to the motorcycle and lets Yumeno drop down until he's sitting on the front seat, right-side up again. ]
He's been tapped for his blood for at least a week or more. [ And he swings his legs over the motorcycle, starting the engines. ] I don't know how his powers work exactly, but he's malnutritioned, at least.
[ Engine's on, and they are zipping down the streets. ]
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