§𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐬

08.

§tain | chapter eight ~ "I didn't ask for your fucking soul"

~ Monster - kanye ~

A moment of hesitant silence followed. Dick's dark-brown eyes filled with a profound vacancy, and Jade found it difficult to depict. She sat in her chair, slouched.The frustration dressed in her face as her nails tapped the smooth surface of the table, fueled by her impatience, while her hazel eyes shone brightly and wildly under the poor-lighting of her room. Speedy. She had to think fast. For as long as he knows Jade, Dick accounted her for the tricks she pulled and how easily she flaunted seduction like a skin-tight dress worn as a mere form of disfigurement all to undermine an individual's strong will or how lies effortlessly sailed past her lips, making one bend or break to her advantage. To Jade, you were a toy she'd heavily favor like a toddler but opted to fracture by her pudgy, heedless hand. Because she wasn't anything short of an opportunist seeking and seizing moments that put her above her enemies.

Gotham opened her eyes once; made her see the importance of both life and death, but learned most of all to take whatever she wanted, rather than waiting for her to fall to her feet and risk others taking it. She played things safe during the time she spent in that city. Kept survival as her primary goal while striving to maintain a stable income so that she and her little sister would live to see another day. But her precaution knew no bounds, twisting and turning to directions considered precarious. Before Jade realized it, everything had treacherously crumbled beneath her, and with that she had fallen. Fell off a towering skyscraper, her hopes bewilderingly uneven, ground; creating a crater of salt and ashes.

Jade laid in her mess for some time, withering miserably at how she lost it all at once. She rose from it not before she fell, but with a purpose. One that she has yet to fulfill. Years of living a worldly life once more put a damper on her entire perspective and almost made Jade forget that purpose (the reason she became Stain.) Seeing him parading in that God's awful costume on TV drew her from her reverie; a newfound sense of determination sparked a fire that longing extinguishment. The world might have forgotten the name Stain, but once she's through with their precious little Robin, they will.

All Jade needs is a solid plan-a full-proof one that ensures victory. She was looking at the supposedly ex-hero. His face settled back into its neutral facade, hiding any emotion that had dared to ensue. But hide as they may, Dick could never shy away from his despair. It revealed to her, appetizing as a ruby red apple, all plump and juicy; ripe for taking. And Jade was happy about taking it, too. Soon after she did, the ex-hero killer would crush that despair in her hand and watch the sweet goodness, like warm sticky blood, ooze from the inside out. 

Her eyes were downcast, training on her tapping fingers. Their rhythm is an infallible imitation of her steady heartbeat. A sensation of desensitization sprang through the tips, stilting her thinking. Jade smiled, her bow-shaped lips, cracked as they were, bled in dry, patchy places. She licked them. In her scheme she already triumphed, but still had to make her strategy. Dick shifted upon her sights. She sensed and recognized his ingoing discomfort. After brief moments of traded glances and stillness, time went by.

Jade finally said, "I didn't ask for your fucking soul, did I?" She lifted her eyes and settled them on him. Dick opened his mouth, canting his head for words, but nothing came. He closed it and hid his face, covering his flushed cheeks. He did not like her proclivity to bug him. Usually, Jade would have an exuberant smile when she did. Well, though, not now. No, no. She was being serious right now.

Her grin turned into a tight-lipped grimace. "Either accept my offer or don't. Leave empty-handed and risk losing your wretched-ass friends for all I care." she said and shrugged as if she really meant them. Reluctance stirred for half a minute in those cold, brown eyes where deep pain gnawed at his being. Uncertainty weighed heavily, burdening his usually neutral front. But she watched him tremble, feeling that not even he, all-knowing, could register. She felt his desire to scream. At last, a lifetime of pent-up anger would be free, relinquishing its obligation to withhold his emotions for the sake of his sanity. But he glanced over her shoulder through his fingers and looked at Rachel.