Green met a shadow for eyes. Sometimes the light of the stand for B's cowl shadowed over just right, and it looked like he was going to stare into the abyss. Jason wasn't sure how to feel about it. Would the abyss stare back? It was starting to feel just as uncomfortable as his own grave. Funny how these things worked. He knew B had his own Robin suit displayed as a memorial, and they did the same for him.
He'd close his eyes and it felt like no time had passed since the Pit shook the last mortal breaths from him and made him into...this. It was useful, sure. But damn if it wasn't alienating. B never did care for Metas in Gotham and now there were two. Well, B hopefully wouldn't mind too much about Briar. But then again, it's not like B had the time when Briar had been living here post-bite.
Another thing that left a sour taste in his mouth. No, he didn't expect Babs or Dick at the time to Introduce him to every little person they met. But she had been around them for a year at least. But maybe it was better this way, one less person who saw him in that costume and someone who didn't mourn the Jason they used to know.
The more he stood in front of this stupid pedestal the more he felt like it was reaching in and curling at the remnants of the pit. An unnatural green creeping in through the cracks of the mask was maddening to the familiar one crawling in his veins. He clenched his eyes shut, his nails digging into his palm. Every affirmation he made to center himself only coaxed the pit further. Nauseous. Scrunching his nose as he swallowed against his tongue.
He felt a surge washing over his body before he could relax and open his eyes. His body felt like when it first came out of the Lazarus Pits, unnatural and distinctively bordering on the immortal. One punch and he'd probably bust through someone's skull, one leap and he could damn near become Gotham's own Superman. God wasn't that a joke? He liked Wonder Woman better anyway.
He stepped back from the cowl, anymore and the Pit might invade his mind again. Alfred would help. Even if they didn't talk about it. He focused on taking one foot in front of the other towards his grandfather figure.
"Thinking about what happened at Blackgate, Master Jason?" Alfred's steady gaze knew more about Jason than probably anyone else in the Belfry. Leave it to Alfred to pick his brain. Jason sighed clenching his hands together before speaking. Yeah, that's right. He could ignore the Pit for now and just focus on the case.
"I can't believe Harley got away. She played us, and I'm sure she's got more shit planned." He frowned, his brows furrowing with distaste and disappointment. When did Harley start planning this? Before B...No there's no way B would've let this happen under his watch. Then after word started getting around. Have they connected—As much as he dissed Gotham's criminals. Even a broken clock was right twice a day. Fuck, they'd have to do some serious damage control.
"She hasn't left other messages or maps. Do you have any leads on where she might have gone?" Alfred would likely be first to know but it was nice that he was letting him bounce the ever-present noise inside his head at him. He had missed Alfred, then, and the recent past. What kinda sick joke was it that B was gone. Not by his hands. Then again did he ever really want to
"Not really, but the Freaks are usually her partners in crime." Jason shrugged, he supposed he could kill two birds with one stone that way. Get out some frustration with Harley's impromptu vacation from Blackgate and interrogate them for leads on her whereabouts. Typical of him but damn was it better than a punching bag sometimes. Maybe he could finally loosen up a bit in training if he went against Briar. She was pretty durable. Plus, bonus points of making fun of her for falling on her ass. The little things in life.
"A good place to start, then." At Alfred's dismissal he nodded and began trudging over the evidence board. Meeting the rest of Bat family and Co who were standing around staring at the board as if it was about to speak and shout answers. No dear friends and family I have not been having thoughts that I should definitely bring up to my therapist. Please don't look too closely. He rolled his eyes inwardly sighing, someday his sarcasm and crass would get him the wrong end of a stick but today was not that day.
YOU ARE READING
Fowl tongue, have my words
Fiksi PenggemarBriar was cursed. There's no doubt about it. Her father was cursed and when he died it only seemed fair inherited it. And when she was bit at 15, that was fine. She lived. And when Barbara asked her to help her in Gotham, well, there were some thing...
