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Bounce Member
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Most Recent Posts
Wheeeeeeee new Batman means even more villains brought to the table hehehe
@Bounce I wanted to express my admiration for your Jason posts in particular for how well they offset what my Batman posts lack, i.e. the actual day-to-day life of Bruce and Alfred. Where my Batman is 'the vigilante' and indulges in the theatre of the Dark Knight, I adore how well your Jason posts balance Jason's activity as Robin and his reality of being an adopted boy in school with caretakers he remains at-odds with. You accomplish what I cannot and it makes me happy.
It makes me, writing Batman, feel like I'm actively neglecting Jason, my ward, which just serves to fuel the character writing further. Love it.
Thanks!
I'll make sure Alfred sends Bruce the bill for the child support in the next post
The sound of a grown man backhanding a woman was unmistakable.
The arguing. The shouting. The immutable clap-snap. Then the sobbing. More shouting. Sometimes pleading.
Why did you make me do that?
When he’d been smaller, Jason would hide under the table when his old man and Catherine would argue. Then he’d hide in his room. Except sometimes his dad would stumble into his room, drunk and angry.
Sometimes he knew why he was getting beat. Teacher sent a note home? That’s a beating. One of the guy’s in the bar said his son was acting like a sissy boy? You better believe that’s a beating.
Other times, Jason had no idea. There probably was no reason. Willis Todd was just drunk and angry and wanted to take it out on someone. And that ‘someone’ was going to be either Catherine or Jason.
So Jason hid in the closet.
His dad would come up. Flip the bed mattress. Kick things around. But stumble out after awhile for a victim that would give him what he wanted. A reaction. Unless, that is, he was so drunk that when he’d tried to flip the matress, he’d just wind up on his ass and passed out.
That happened a few times.
So, Jason avoided being at home as much as he could. And, when he was home, closeted himself to just stay out of his dad’s way.
That’s what home was like.
Walking on eggshells, wondering what was going to set Willis Todd off. And then hiding in the closet, waiting for the drunken storm to blow over.
The arguing. The shouting. The immutable clap-snap. Then the sobbing. More shouting. Sometimes pleading.
Why did you make me do that?
When he’d been smaller, Jason would hide under the table when his old man and Catherine would argue. Then he’d hide in his room. Except sometimes his dad would stumble into his room, drunk and angry.
Sometimes he knew why he was getting beat. Teacher sent a note home? That’s a beating. One of the guy’s in the bar said his son was acting like a sissy boy? You better believe that’s a beating.
Other times, Jason had no idea. There probably was no reason. Willis Todd was just drunk and angry and wanted to take it out on someone. And that ‘someone’ was going to be either Catherine or Jason.
So Jason hid in the closet.
His dad would come up. Flip the bed mattress. Kick things around. But stumble out after awhile for a victim that would give him what he wanted. A reaction. Unless, that is, he was so drunk that when he’d tried to flip the matress, he’d just wind up on his ass and passed out.
That happened a few times.
So, Jason avoided being at home as much as he could. And, when he was home, closeted himself to just stay out of his dad’s way.
That’s what home was like.
Walking on eggshells, wondering what was going to set Willis Todd off. And then hiding in the closet, waiting for the drunken storm to blow over.
The photos lined the hallways.
Family portraits. Candid snaps that presented a foreign landscape. Smiling faces. People who seemed to genuinely be happy together.
A large oil panting of a man and a woman, with a little kid that he guessed was Bruce at the man’s knee.
Jason looked at the faces of the woman and the kid. He didn’t see any fear. No bruises or marks that were explained away as having fallen down again.
Man, what was that like?
“Dinner is served.”
The announcement sent a shiver down the boy’s spine, which he masked by running a hand through his still damp hair. He’d taken a shower when they’d returned back to the mansion, changing into a pair of boxer shorts and a Jurassic World t-shirt that was too large for him.
It had belonged to Dick, along with the room that Jason now occupied.
Making his way down the hall, the boy passed by the vaulted dining room. Its massive table shrouded in silence and shadows.
Did it ever even get used?
Jason and Alfred ate in one corner of the kitchen. A math textbook open, as the Boy Wonder propped an elbow against the table and scribbled away at his homework between bites of crusty bread and some kind of pale greenish-white soup.
It was a bit like eating a bowl of snot, but, hey, the bread by itself was better than just about anything Jason had ever put in his mouth.
Folding his newspaper down, the butler peered over at the boy. The elbow obviously caught the man’s ire, but the mouthful of soup the boy took seemed to make up for it. “I must say, Master Jason, I’m impressed. The first time I served vichyssois to Master Bruce, he spit it back out because it was cold.”
Blinking, the boy’s large blue eyes just stared back blankly at the butler.
Really? He could think of lots of reasons the soup wasn’t very appealing. But he’d learned the hard way that beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, the flavor wasn’t all bad. It was more just how it looked.
He looked down at the soup. Stabbing the viscous contents with his spoon, the boy swirled it around as he said, “Catherine would just open a can of Spaghetti-Ohs, drop a spoon into it, and hand it to me.”
Setting the spoon down, the boy reached over, tearing off another hunk of bread and popping that into his mouth – ignoring the mess of crumbs he was making – as he turned his attention back his math homework.
Alfred didn’t say anything after that.
The Wayne house was good for that. There was a lot that was left unsaid in this home.
“Tonight on WGCL News at Ten: The search for a lost boy in Gotham ends in tragedy tonight...”
There was a small television on in the background.
Turning his head, Jason peered over to watch for a bit. So the kid that had been missing was dead?
Did Bruce know?
Was that why they hadn’t heard from him? Was he on the trail of the kidnapper?
“...now to weather...”
“They didn’t say anything about the body outlines in Crime Alley,” the boy uttered.
Alfred’s newspaper rustled slightly, as he man’s voice uttered from behind the pages, “Body outlines?”
“Yeah, someone had drawn out the outline of two bodies, just like in those old crime movies,” the boy offered, pausing to tear off another piece of bread before he added, “But there wasn’t any crime scene tape or nothin’!”
Alfred folded the paper down on the table. Mid-bite, Jason paused, the hair standing up on his neck.
He had the distinct impression that he’d just said something wrong. Like with his old man, when there was that moment before he’d just go off.
“I see,” Alfred remarked finally, giving the boy a smile that was utterly fake.
Yeah, he’d definitely said something wrong.
“Well, tomorrow is a school day,” Alfred noted.
That was pretty much Alfred for ‘go to your room.’
“Can I wait up for Bruce?” the boy asked. Seriously, did Bruce Wayne even live here anymore? “I haven’t seen him, like, all week I think.”
“Not tonight,” Alfred answered flatly, rising from the kitchen table and lifting the now-empty bowl away. “To bed, Master Jason.”
With that, the butler gave a wave of the remote and clicked off the television.
Closing the textbook, the boy scooped up his homework and made his way out of the kitchen and into the labyrinthian abode. Up the winding stairs, down the hallway to the left. All the while, walking underneath the passage of the life of Bruce Wayne’s happy childhood.
He dropped the text and the loose papers down on top of the open backpack that was by the door to the room.
Alfred had made the bed up again.
He didn’t know why the butler bothered. Grabbing a few pillows, the boy tucked one under an arm as he peeled a bedsheet from off the bed, then turned and made his way to the closet.
It was bigger than the one he’d had back home.
Dropping the pillows and bed sheet onto the floor, the boy left to go brush his teeth. He returned a minute later, closing the door to the closet behind him as he curled up on the floor and wrapped himself in the bedsheet.
This felt almost like home.
There wasn’t enough noise. He used to fall asleep to the sound of Gotham traffic. Police sirens and gunshots.
Wayne Manor was quiet AF. Which was fitting in a lot of ways. It looked like a home. But it was really a tomb.
Family portraits. Candid snaps that presented a foreign landscape. Smiling faces. People who seemed to genuinely be happy together.
A large oil panting of a man and a woman, with a little kid that he guessed was Bruce at the man’s knee.
Jason looked at the faces of the woman and the kid. He didn’t see any fear. No bruises or marks that were explained away as having fallen down again.
Man, what was that like?
“Dinner is served.”
The announcement sent a shiver down the boy’s spine, which he masked by running a hand through his still damp hair. He’d taken a shower when they’d returned back to the mansion, changing into a pair of boxer shorts and a Jurassic World t-shirt that was too large for him.
It had belonged to Dick, along with the room that Jason now occupied.
Making his way down the hall, the boy passed by the vaulted dining room. Its massive table shrouded in silence and shadows.
Did it ever even get used?
Jason and Alfred ate in one corner of the kitchen. A math textbook open, as the Boy Wonder propped an elbow against the table and scribbled away at his homework between bites of crusty bread and some kind of pale greenish-white soup.
It was a bit like eating a bowl of snot, but, hey, the bread by itself was better than just about anything Jason had ever put in his mouth.
Folding his newspaper down, the butler peered over at the boy. The elbow obviously caught the man’s ire, but the mouthful of soup the boy took seemed to make up for it. “I must say, Master Jason, I’m impressed. The first time I served vichyssois to Master Bruce, he spit it back out because it was cold.”
Blinking, the boy’s large blue eyes just stared back blankly at the butler.
Really? He could think of lots of reasons the soup wasn’t very appealing. But he’d learned the hard way that beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, the flavor wasn’t all bad. It was more just how it looked.
He looked down at the soup. Stabbing the viscous contents with his spoon, the boy swirled it around as he said, “Catherine would just open a can of Spaghetti-Ohs, drop a spoon into it, and hand it to me.”
Setting the spoon down, the boy reached over, tearing off another hunk of bread and popping that into his mouth – ignoring the mess of crumbs he was making – as he turned his attention back his math homework.
Alfred didn’t say anything after that.
The Wayne house was good for that. There was a lot that was left unsaid in this home.
“Tonight on WGCL News at Ten: The search for a lost boy in Gotham ends in tragedy tonight...”
There was a small television on in the background.
Turning his head, Jason peered over to watch for a bit. So the kid that had been missing was dead?
Did Bruce know?
Was that why they hadn’t heard from him? Was he on the trail of the kidnapper?
“...now to weather...”
“They didn’t say anything about the body outlines in Crime Alley,” the boy uttered.
Alfred’s newspaper rustled slightly, as he man’s voice uttered from behind the pages, “Body outlines?”
“Yeah, someone had drawn out the outline of two bodies, just like in those old crime movies,” the boy offered, pausing to tear off another piece of bread before he added, “But there wasn’t any crime scene tape or nothin’!”
Alfred folded the paper down on the table. Mid-bite, Jason paused, the hair standing up on his neck.
He had the distinct impression that he’d just said something wrong. Like with his old man, when there was that moment before he’d just go off.
“I see,” Alfred remarked finally, giving the boy a smile that was utterly fake.
Yeah, he’d definitely said something wrong.
“Well, tomorrow is a school day,” Alfred noted.
That was pretty much Alfred for ‘go to your room.’
“Can I wait up for Bruce?” the boy asked. Seriously, did Bruce Wayne even live here anymore? “I haven’t seen him, like, all week I think.”
“Not tonight,” Alfred answered flatly, rising from the kitchen table and lifting the now-empty bowl away. “To bed, Master Jason.”
With that, the butler gave a wave of the remote and clicked off the television.
Closing the textbook, the boy scooped up his homework and made his way out of the kitchen and into the labyrinthian abode. Up the winding stairs, down the hallway to the left. All the while, walking underneath the passage of the life of Bruce Wayne’s happy childhood.
He dropped the text and the loose papers down on top of the open backpack that was by the door to the room.
Alfred had made the bed up again.
He didn’t know why the butler bothered. Grabbing a few pillows, the boy tucked one under an arm as he peeled a bedsheet from off the bed, then turned and made his way to the closet.
It was bigger than the one he’d had back home.
Dropping the pillows and bed sheet onto the floor, the boy left to go brush his teeth. He returned a minute later, closing the door to the closet behind him as he curled up on the floor and wrapped himself in the bedsheet.
This felt almost like home.
There wasn’t enough noise. He used to fall asleep to the sound of Gotham traffic. Police sirens and gunshots.
Wayne Manor was quiet AF. Which was fitting in a lot of ways. It looked like a home. But it was really a tomb.
Looks like we need a 3 year warranty plan on these Robins.
<Snipped quote by Simple Unicycle>
99% of the OOC replies are all the members saying they'll do a post tomorrow.
The other 1% is Wraith and Ruby having a gif war.
Just as a reminder, there's a Green Lantern in my sheet who will be appearing in Gotham as part of Jason's stories.
Yeah but GL doesn't have good video games, grundy showing up in batman really hurts my rep power. Now that we mention it though, GL did live in gotham for awhile. Hmmm. You think gcpd would expense a lantern symbol right next to batman's?
I'll tag @Roman but I don't think we have a Bat Signal in this continuity yet. The general sense in Gotham seems to be that Batman's a problem, not a solution.
It was the corner of Twelve and Farnam.
It was in the East End of Gotham. The old railroad divided up the older neighborhoods of the city and this was the part of town on the wrong side of those tracks.
When he’d lived with his mom, they’d been in the brownstone across from where he was now. Third floor. He’d sit out on the fire escape outside his bedroom window and be able to see his mom and her friends as they worked the corner.
Of course, back then, he had no idea what was actually happening when mom went to work.
Two of her friends were still doing it. Well, one of them anyway. Sapphire was the madam who was managing the block. She’d been Fat Tony’s bottom bitch. Then Fat Tony had washed up in the Gotham River with a hole in his head and Sapphire had stepped into the pimp’s shoes.
The other was Cristal. Like the champagne. Cristal Fuentes.
A girl at his school was named Fuentes.
He hadn’t made the connection until he saw her on the street corner with Miss Cristal.
Like mother, like daughter. What did that make him? Like father, like son? Yeah, probably. Once he’d graduated high school, Bruce could just drop him off at Gotham Penitentiary.
Who was he kidding? He wasn’t worth Bruce Wayne’s time. That asshole would just have Alfred do it for him.
God knew, Alfred would probably be happy to oblige. Drop his ass off at the jail and probably haul ass. Limo screaching tires and burning rubber on the black top.
Seated on the edge of a rooftop, the boy wonder turned his head up toward the Gotham skyline. No chatter tonight. Neither Bruce nor Alfred had even checked in on him. Something must have really stuck a batarang up the old man’s ass.
Eh. It meant Jason had some breathing room. Which would be great, if there was anything going on. With school in session, Jason could only get out as Robin on weekends. Which sucked. During the week, Bruce was out there looking for missing kids, busting heads... doing the whole I am vengeance thing.
Jason didn’t really get the whole vengeance thing. He just wanted to punch something. Like now.
Except so far this weekend, not only had he not punched anything, he’d been about the most lame Robin in the history of Robins.
And have you met Dick Grayson?
Seriously, about the only thing the Boy Wonder had done this weekend was solve the case of the stolen baby formula. Good job, Robin!
Said no Batman, ever.
Standing up, the boy slowly receded back into the shadows. If only actually disappearing were as simple. He’d probably do a lot of people a favor.
Aw, shit. He still had homework to do.
Bounding over the rooftops, the boy’s shadow passed by Crime Alley. Then, his shadow re-appeared a moment later.
There were a pair of chalk outlines on the ground. A double homicide? Tonight?
Shouldn’t he have heard something about that? No sirens. No police tape. No sign that anyone had processed a scene here. Not even any blood.
“So weird,” the boy murmured, drawing the cape around him as he melded back into the shadows.
He passed over the old train tracks. Crossing over to the right side of town. Alfred had the car parked behind in a vacant lot. Used to be a used car dealership or something. Seemed like it might have been an okay place to hang, except the GCPD had a precinct nearby. Close enough that people going there tended to use the lot for parking.
A couple was in an argument. Sounded like the wife or girlfriend had just posted bail for the dude. The argument continued as they got inside a beat up GMC, oblivious to the shadow that trailed along the sidewalk, as the rear door to the Bentley cracked open.
“Nice of you to be on time for a change.”
“Should’a been out tonight, Alfs,” the boy answered, peeling the domino mask from his face. Slipping out of the cape, the boy reached up a hand to relax the collar of the red tunic as he added, dryly, “More excitement than I knew what to do with.”
“Seatbelt, Master Jason,” the butler said brusquely.
Jason shifted over slightly, grabbing the shoulder and lap belt and pulling it over. As he did, he masked an obscene gesture with one hand toward the diver.
“I trust that you are ready for school tomorrow?”
“Overjoyed,” the boy answered, rolling his eyes.
The butler seemed to accept that answer. The silence was deafening. Propping an elbow against the door, the boy stared out the side window at the lights of the city as they drove along. Heading out to stately Wayne Manor.
As prisons went, he supposed he could do worse.
“Your homework is complete?”
“Yeah, sure,” the boy uttered, his dead gaze never so much as blinking.
“Excellent,” Alfred answered with his usual note of sarcasm. “Then when we arrive at home, I shall like to see it.”
Should have seen that one coming. “Oh, you meant that homework,” Jason stated, at last casting a fleeting glance at the back of the butler’s head.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
It was in the East End of Gotham. The old railroad divided up the older neighborhoods of the city and this was the part of town on the wrong side of those tracks.
When he’d lived with his mom, they’d been in the brownstone across from where he was now. Third floor. He’d sit out on the fire escape outside his bedroom window and be able to see his mom and her friends as they worked the corner.
Of course, back then, he had no idea what was actually happening when mom went to work.
Two of her friends were still doing it. Well, one of them anyway. Sapphire was the madam who was managing the block. She’d been Fat Tony’s bottom bitch. Then Fat Tony had washed up in the Gotham River with a hole in his head and Sapphire had stepped into the pimp’s shoes.
The other was Cristal. Like the champagne. Cristal Fuentes.
A girl at his school was named Fuentes.
He hadn’t made the connection until he saw her on the street corner with Miss Cristal.
Like mother, like daughter. What did that make him? Like father, like son? Yeah, probably. Once he’d graduated high school, Bruce could just drop him off at Gotham Penitentiary.
Who was he kidding? He wasn’t worth Bruce Wayne’s time. That asshole would just have Alfred do it for him.
God knew, Alfred would probably be happy to oblige. Drop his ass off at the jail and probably haul ass. Limo screaching tires and burning rubber on the black top.
Seated on the edge of a rooftop, the boy wonder turned his head up toward the Gotham skyline. No chatter tonight. Neither Bruce nor Alfred had even checked in on him. Something must have really stuck a batarang up the old man’s ass.
Eh. It meant Jason had some breathing room. Which would be great, if there was anything going on. With school in session, Jason could only get out as Robin on weekends. Which sucked. During the week, Bruce was out there looking for missing kids, busting heads... doing the whole I am vengeance thing.
Jason didn’t really get the whole vengeance thing. He just wanted to punch something. Like now.
Except so far this weekend, not only had he not punched anything, he’d been about the most lame Robin in the history of Robins.
And have you met Dick Grayson?
Seriously, about the only thing the Boy Wonder had done this weekend was solve the case of the stolen baby formula. Good job, Robin!
Said no Batman, ever.
Standing up, the boy slowly receded back into the shadows. If only actually disappearing were as simple. He’d probably do a lot of people a favor.
His dad.
Bruce.
Mr. Hinkley in third period math....
Aw, shit. He still had homework to do.
Bounding over the rooftops, the boy’s shadow passed by Crime Alley. Then, his shadow re-appeared a moment later.
There were a pair of chalk outlines on the ground. A double homicide? Tonight?
Shouldn’t he have heard something about that? No sirens. No police tape. No sign that anyone had processed a scene here. Not even any blood.
“So weird,” the boy murmured, drawing the cape around him as he melded back into the shadows.
He passed over the old train tracks. Crossing over to the right side of town. Alfred had the car parked behind in a vacant lot. Used to be a used car dealership or something. Seemed like it might have been an okay place to hang, except the GCPD had a precinct nearby. Close enough that people going there tended to use the lot for parking.
A couple was in an argument. Sounded like the wife or girlfriend had just posted bail for the dude. The argument continued as they got inside a beat up GMC, oblivious to the shadow that trailed along the sidewalk, as the rear door to the Bentley cracked open.
“Nice of you to be on time for a change.”
“Should’a been out tonight, Alfs,” the boy answered, peeling the domino mask from his face. Slipping out of the cape, the boy reached up a hand to relax the collar of the red tunic as he added, dryly, “More excitement than I knew what to do with.”
“Seatbelt, Master Jason,” the butler said brusquely.
Jason shifted over slightly, grabbing the shoulder and lap belt and pulling it over. As he did, he masked an obscene gesture with one hand toward the diver.
“I trust that you are ready for school tomorrow?”
“Overjoyed,” the boy answered, rolling his eyes.
The butler seemed to accept that answer. The silence was deafening. Propping an elbow against the door, the boy stared out the side window at the lights of the city as they drove along. Heading out to stately Wayne Manor.
As prisons went, he supposed he could do worse.
“Your homework is complete?”
“Yeah, sure,” the boy uttered, his dead gaze never so much as blinking.
“Excellent,” Alfred answered with his usual note of sarcasm. “Then when we arrive at home, I shall like to see it.”
Should have seen that one coming. “Oh, you meant that homework,” Jason stated, at last casting a fleeting glance at the back of the butler’s head.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
Er...
What I mean is, @Byrd Man is approved for Daredevil.
Well, now we know what we're getting in a Spidey post...
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