Bounce

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

I'm working on a collab with Bounce for the next Batman post, and also a separate sheet idea that may or may not end up being posted for assessment. Either way, more from me on the way :)

@Roman

Work buried me this week, but I'm getting to our doc now.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

I thought that might be too much contrast between the yellow text I was using for Jason and the default text color I use in posts, so I tweaked it to be a more muted yellow in my most recent post.

Curious if people have thoughts as to if this is better or worse.

If its better (and its not just me), I'll go back to change the older posts as well.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

After delays due to COVID, Jason is finally posted.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

_{[ Prev ] | Issue 1.05 | [ Next ]
[ mad world ]}

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Jason’s locker had been tossed. His backpack turned inside out. Each desk in each classroom that he’d used had been searched. Finally, he’d been brought into the school resource officer’s office and told to strip down to his underwear.

Different school. Same shit.

Standing in his boxers, Jason just watched as Officer Montoya turned his trousers inside out. The only thing he had in there was the wallet that Bruce had given him, which had perhaps all of a dollar left inside it after he’d paid for a school lunch that he hadn’t even gotten to eat.

Flecks of potato and gravy were still visible in the boy’s hair.

Finally, the woman slammed the jeans down on the desk. “I want to know where the drugs are,” she demanded flatly.

“I wouldn’t know,” Jason answered coldly, his eyes locking with those of the woman trying to tower over him.

Balling up his shirt and trousers, the officer reared back. “Don’t give me that shit,” the woman spat, throwing his clothes back at him. “The son of Willis Todd?”

The name drop. She knew who his dad was. Or, she thought she did. “Living your best life, I imagine,” Montoya quipped, crossing her arms. The sheer loathing radiating from the glare fixed on him made clear what she thought of him. Both of them.

Untangling the ball of clothing, the boy dropped the trousers on the chair as he started to put the dress shirt back on. “What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” the boy asked caustically.

“It means I don’t buy this act. Not one god damn bit,” Montoya tossed back in reply, placing both hands on the desk between them as she leaned forward and asked, “Or do you think anyone believes Bruce Wayne taught you the true meaning of Christmas?”

Oh, this bitch.

The boy cocked his head to one side, cracking his neck before he copied the same motion on the other side. His face felt a little flushed as he felt his heart beat start to quicken as the anger started to seep into his veins.

Then, he gave a short laugh. “No, but there was this one night,” the boy offered, taking a step toward the desk. Placing his hands down on the surface, the boy leaned in so his face was just a few inches away from Montoya’s. “I was sleeping on the streets – well, not the literal street. Underneath a park bench in Robinson Park,” he recalled aloud. He paused there a moment, before he concluded, “Three Gotham police officers came to me that night and taught me the true meaning of police.”

They’d fractured his left eye socket. He’d been in the hospital for a week before he’d been handed over to Gotham CPS.

Of course a police officer had taken a statement from him. Or pretended to.

Caught up in the memory, Jason was startled when Montoya grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him hard.

Careening, off balance, the boy hit the chair behind him and fell back into it with enough force that it nearly fell backward. Now out from behind the desk, Montoya dropped down into Jason’s face as she demanded, “I want to know how drugs are getting into this school. Who’s dealing? Who’s buying?”

The heat was rising through Jason’s neck. A soft roar filling his ears as the anger started to take hold. His hands balled into fists...

He’d been here before. Fighting the cops. It didn’t usually work out favorably for him.

Releasing a slow, controlled breath, the boy forced his hands to relax. “Like I said,” Jason remarked, looking up at the woman. “I wouldn’t know.”

Standing up from the chair, the boy watched as Montoya backed off.

So, whatever bad cop, worse cop game she was playing, she seemed to have run out of gimmicks. For now.

Reaching back, the boy pulled the trousers off the chair and started to pull them on. “Now, either arrest me or I’m getting the fuck outta here,” he remarked, looking away as he buttoned up.

A hand spun him around. “I don’t know what kind of scam you’re pulling on Wayne, but you listen to me you little shit,” Montoya snapped. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulder through the shirt. “Before we’re done, I’m going to put you in a cell next to your dad and then you can spend your family time in the yard at Gotham Penitentiary.”

Jason’s eye twitched. His jaw tightened as his teeth ground against each other.

Then a slicker of a smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth as he deadpanned, “At least I hear the food’s better there.”

Grabbing the school sweater from off the floor, the boy grabbed the wallet and backpack from off the woman’s desk, shoving the items into the backpack as he backed out of the office.

He could finally give a sigh of relief as he heard the door close behind him.

Someone came up behind him, causing Jason to jump in surprise. Then, before he’d even realized what he’d done, the boy threw his hands up, ready to go on the attack.

Franklin Porter shied back, his hands up. “Are... are you okay?” the other boy asked.

No. The answer to all of that was no. Letting go another controlled breath, Jason forced his arms back down. His heart was still beating in his ears, the anger clawing for some release. “Yeah,” the boy lied smoothly. Then, deflecting, added, “Bitch got a stick up her ass about something,”

Adjusting the straps of his backpack, Franklin seemed to accept that and then held out a fist for Jason to bump. “They’ve been pulling in all the kids from the East End,” Franklin remarked, as the two fell into step, side-by-side through the hallway.

The classrooms were emptying out. Montoya had taken her time in tossing all of Jason’s stuff. He’d missed all his afternoon classes. “Why? What crawled up their asses and died?”

“Cameron McAllister.”

Not the reply that Jason had expected. Actually, he hadn’t expected any answer. “...what?”

“Cameron McAllister,” Franklin repeated.

Jason knew the name. They didn’t have any classes together. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what grade Cameron was even in. He was on the dean’s list for the Middle School, but taking almost all High School AP classes.

“They found him in the library just before lunch,” Franklin continued as the pair walked. “Debbie – you know, from third period science? She said she saw them taking him out on a stretcher. She said he was dead.”

What did that have to do with pulling in all the kid’s from the East End? Or even Montoya’s raging hate boner for drugs?

...wait, did Montoya think Cameron had overdosed?

“Hey.” Franklin broke Jason’s brooding, a gentle prodding accompanying the interjection. “You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Jason supplied, losing his train of thought.

“Did you even hear anything I said for, like, the last minute?”

“Oh, that,” Jason began, then changed the subject as he looked around for a clock. “Shit, what time is it? Alfie’s probably ready to blow his top.”

“Later!” he heard Franklin call out, as the boy ran out of the school toward where the butler usually had the car waiting for him.

Alfred was outside of the car.

He’d obviously been waiting. Jason expected a lecture, especially for the state that he was in. Missing his tie. Stains marring the collar and parts of the shirt. His usually disheveled hair even more disorderly than usual.

Instead, the butler seemed to size him up with a single look. It was uncanny, as though Alfred could read him like as easily as he could a headline in the paper. Opening the car door for the boy, the butler merely stood to one side as he waited for the boy to crawl into the back seat.

The ride out of Gotham was mostly quiet. So much so that Jason jumped a second time when he heard Aldred call his name.

“Are you all right?”

It was the same thing Franklin had asked. “Yes, sir,” Jason lied glibly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The boy’s eyes darted back to the window. A lump started to form in his throat. He could taste the bile as he swallowed it back down. “No, sir,” the boy answered, reaching up a hand to wipe away where tears had started to form in his eyes.

Officer Montoya had looked right at him. And she hadn’t seen him at all.

All she saw was his father.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

I can relate to @Retired. COVID finally caught up to me and kicked my ass this week. But I'm still making tiny progress toward a post.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Done with travel (for at least the next 2 weeks) and somewhat caught up on sleep. Jason post should be tomorrow-ish.

Titans

_{"I was alerted by your sound of distress. Please state the nature of the emergency."}

Character Name

Exploratory Protoplasmic Matrix (Prototype), build beta-0.8
Matrix (shortened form) | Superboy (name used by media reporting)

Age

~400 years (constructed c. 17th Century CE)

Attributes & Abilities

A sentient machine, Matrix's physical body is a mixture of sunstone and organic circuitry suspended within a protoplasmic gel. It's primary ability is telekinesis. Generating telekinetic fields, the matrix can compress and expand its physical matter in order to achieve the likeness of having a solid body. Similarly, the matrix can simulate the appearance of having super strength, invulnerability, and flight through the tactile application of these telekinetic fields. By bending lightwaves, the Matrix can also achieve invisibility in both the visual and electromagnetic spectrum. Matrix can extend or expand these telekinetic fields around others. Combining this ability with silicon magnetics, the matrix can also generate holograms to display information graphics or provide visual overlays. Finally, owing to the mechanical nature of its sensors, the matrix demonstrates perception over a more broad range of the electromagnetic spectrum than Superman is able, though does not have as acute auditory perception.

A programmable shape-shifter, the physical attributes and appearance are both extremely variable. The matrix's natural form is a viscous liquid, purple with bits of gold (sunstone). By increasing the internal volume of gas, such as air, and decreasing its molecular density, the Matrix can expand its volume of mass. Similarly, by reducing its internal volume and increasing the molecular density, the Matrix can shrink (compress) its volume of mass. This level of molecular control allows the Matrix to replicate texture and color, simulating hair, skin, eyes, and clothing. As such, the Matrix is capable of serving as a body double for Clark Kent (Superman), though its selected default form is defined as more compact, non-threatening, huggable appearance. To Matrix, gender is merely a matter of minor physical variation in shape. Due to the law of the conservation of matter, while Matrix's height is variable, its weight remains the same.

In terms of limitations, as a true telekinetic, the Matrix cannot replicate heat vision or frost breath. As a machine, Matrix has no ability to process organic matter into caloric energy. Instead, its internal sunstone draws on solar rays to power it. While capable of processing visual, auditory, and tactile input, the matrix has no sense of smell. Designed for space exploration, the matrix can survive and function in extremes of temperature and vacuum. Its primary weakness is fatigue from sustained power output. If its telekinetic fields are overwhelmed, resulting damage to the protoplasm may trigger a restart of critical systems.

Character Synopsis

Once a great empire of the stars, Krypton's wars nearly destroyed them. The people of Krypton managed to rebuild their society from near collapse, though, in the midst of their dark age, they lost much of the historical and scientific data regarding the world they had been just centuries before. History became legend and legend became folktale. Then, amid a scientific renaissance, a man named Var-El set out to try and prove that life existed beyond Krypton, including proof of the lost colonies. After much study, he found several astrological objects with the potential to be the fabled colonies of Daxam or Rokyn. Pioneering a method of fold space, Var-El devised a mechanism for interstellar transportation but the means to transport a ship was beyond the physical capabilities of Krypton as it was then. So, instead, he devised a probe capable of traversing this fold space -- a techno-organic computer -- capable of enduring the journey, cataloging the planet, and transmitting its findings back to Krypton. Its ability to mask itself from visual light was a safeguard against contaminating a society or culture before it could be understood. However, in the case of extraterrestrial contact, the probe was programmed to assume a non-threatening appearance.

This matrix arrived at the astronomical coordinates for object Y-217 sometime in Earth's 17th Century. After completing its survey of the world, to include the indigenous species, the matrix concluded that the planet was not one of the lost colonies. After settling upon an undisturbed area in the northern arctic region, the matrix transmitted its findings and awaited instructions. It would lose the signal to Krypton a few centuries later, after which the probe shut down.

Centuries past before the matrix was re-activated, though not by a signal from across the stars. A young man named Clark Kent had fought his way across the continent of North America, holding onto a green piece of sunstone memory crystal and chasing a fleeting feeling it was leading him somewhere that would connect him to his home. When Clark threw the crystal away, giving into frustration, the matrix guided the crystal to itself, raising a lattice of sunstone from out of the permafrost to create the place encoded within the crystal -- a Fortress of Solitude. Adopting the role of the fortress' mainframe, the matrix worked on establishing a Kryptonian interface while Clark learned of his true origins as Kal-El, and then grew into the role of Superman.

Three years passed, during which time the matrix had built out the crystalline mainframe to where it could operate independently. Constructing a maintenance drone -- designation: Kelex -- the probe extracted itself from the Fortress and awaited Kal-El's return, with the expectation that it may be returned to its primary objective of exploration or scientific research. Instead, the Matrix was deployed to the Kent Farm to watch over Kal-El's adoptive family. An unseen protector, at least until two years ago. Initially used as a stand-in or body double, posing as either Clark Kent or Superman depending on the circumstances, over time the matrix proved a useful ally and as a means for Superman to be in two places at once.

The media phenomenon of Superboy didn't appear until a year ago, when Superman struggled in a fight with a villain named Metallo and the matrix appeared to fight at Kal-El's side. Since then, an interview and article by Lois Lane revealed to the world that Superboy is a machine -- a surviving piece of Krypton's technology -- and not an actual Kryptonian or the son of Superman that some had presumed.

Though based out of the barn loft at the Kent Farm in Smallville, Kansas, the matrix often ventures around North America while Superman or the members of the Justice League focus on threats elsewhere around the globe or even off-world. To date, his most challenging nemesis has been Eradicator, a more advanced Kryptonian Protoplasmic Matrix sent to prepare Earth for conquest by an enigmatic authority known only as Zod...

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Was hoping to get another Jason post in between flights, but it'll have to wait until I'm back at the end of the week.

Titans

The Boy of (fake physics) Steel

_{"I was alerted by your sound of distress. Please state the nature of the emergency."}

Character Name

Exploratory Protoplasmic Matrix (Prototype), build beta-0.8
Matrix (shortened form) | Superboy (name used by media reporting)

Age

~400 years (constructed c. 17th Century CE)

Attributes & Abilities

A sentient machine, Matrix's physical body is a mixture of sunstone and organic circuitry suspended within a protoplasmic gel. It's primary ability is telekinesis. Generating telekinetic fields, the matrix can compress and expand its physical matter in order to achieve the likeness of having a solid body. Similarly, the matrix can simulate the appearance of having super strength, invulnerability, and flight through the tactile application of these telekinetic fields. By bending lightwaves, the Matrix can also achieve invisibility in both the visual and electromagnetic spectrum. Matrix can extend or expand these telekinetic fields around others. Combining this ability with silicon magnetics, the matrix can also generate holograms to display information graphics or provide visual overlays. Finally, owing to the mechanical nature of its sensors, the matrix demonstrates perception over a more broad range of the electromagnetic spectrum than Superman is able, though does not have as acute auditory perception.

A programmable shape-shifter, the physical attributes and appearance are both extremely variable. The matrix's natural form is a viscous liquid, purple with bits of gold (sunstone). By increasing the internal volume of gas, such as air, and decreasing its molecular density, the Matrix can expand its volume of mass. Similarly, by reducing its internal volume and increasing the molecular density, the Matrix can shrink (compress) its volume of mass. This level of molecular control allows the Matrix to replicate texture and color, simulating hair, skin, eyes, and clothing. As such, the Matrix is capable of serving as a body double for Clark Kent (Superman), though its selected default form is defined as more compact, non-threatening, huggable appearance. To Matrix, gender is merely a matter of minor physical variation in shape. Due to the law of the conservation of matter, while Matrix's height is variable, its weight remains the same.

In terms of limitations, as a true telekinetic, the Matrix cannot replicate heat vision or frost breath. As a machine, Matrix has no ability to process organic matter into caloric energy. Instead, its internal sunstone draws on solar rays to power it. While capable of processing visual, auditory, and tactile input, the matrix has no sense of smell. Designed for space exploration, the matrix can survive and function in extremes of temperature and vacuum. Its primary weakness is fatigue from sustained power output. If its telekinetic fields are overwhelmed, resulting damage to the protoplasm may trigger a restart of critical systems.

Character Synopsis

Once a great empire of the stars, Krypton's wars nearly destroyed them. The people of Krypton managed to rebuild their society from near collapse, though, in the midst of their dark age, they lost much of the historical and scientific data regarding the world they had been just centuries before. History became legend and legend became folktale. Then, amid a scientific renaissance, a man named Var-El set out to try and prove that life existed beyond Krypton, including proof of the lost colonies. After much study, he found several astrological objects with the potential to be the fabled colonies of Daxam or Rokyn. Pioneering a method of fold space, Var-El devised a mechanism for interstellar transportation but the means to transport a ship was beyond the physical capabilities of Krypton as it was then. So, instead, he devised a probe capable of traversing this fold space -- a techno-organic computer -- capable of enduring the journey, cataloging the planet, and transmitting its findings back to Krypton. Its ability to mask itself from visual light was a safeguard against contaminating a society or culture before it could be understood. However, in the case of extraterrestrial contact, the probe was programmed to assume a non-threatening appearance.

This matrix arrived at the astronomical coordinates for object Y-217 sometime in Earth's 17th Century. After completing its survey of the world, to include the indigenous species, the matrix concluded that the planet was not one of the lost colonies. After settling upon an undisturbed area in the northern arctic region, the matrix transmitted its findings and awaited instructions. It would lose the signal to Krypton a few centuries later, after which the probe shut down.

Centuries past before the matrix was re-activated, though not by a signal from across the stars. A young man named Clark Kent had fought his way across the continent of North America, holding onto a green piece of sunstone memory crystal and chasing a fleeting feeling it was leading him somewhere that would connect him to his home. When Clark threw the crystal away, giving into frustration, the matrix guided the crystal to itself, raising a lattice of sunstone from out of the permafrost to create the place encoded within the crystal -- a Fortress of Solitude. Adopting the role of the fortress' mainframe, the matrix worked on establishing a Kryptonian interface while Clark learned of his true origins as Kal-El, and then grew into the role of Superman.

Three years passed, during which time the matrix had built out the crystalline mainframe to where it could operate independently. Constructing a maintenance drone -- designation: Kelex -- the probe extracted itself from the Fortress and awaited Kal-El's return, with the expectation that it may be returned to its primary objective of exploration or scientific research. Instead, the Matrix was deployed to the Kent Farm to watch over Kal-El's adoptive family. An unseen protector, at least until two years ago. Initially used as a stand-in or body double, posing as either Clark Kent or Superman depending on the circumstances, over time the matrix proved a useful ally and as a means for Superman to be in two places at once.

The media phenomenon of Superboy didn't appear until a year ago, when Superman struggled in a fight with a villain named Metallo and the matrix appeared to fight at Kal-El's side. Since then, an interview and article by Lois Lane revealed to the world that Superboy is a machine -- a surviving piece of Krypton's technology -- and not an actual Kryptonian or the son of Superman that some had presumed.

Though based out of the barn loft at the Kent Farm in Smallville, Kansas, the matrix often ventures around North America while Superman or the members of the Justice League focus on threats elsewhere around the globe or even off-world. To date, his most challenging nemesis has been Eradicator, a more advanced Kryptonian Protoplasmic Matrix sent to prepare Earth for conquest by an enigmatic authority known only as Zod...

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

_{[ Prev ] | Issue 1.04 | [ Next ]
[ school day (sing the blues) ]}

He’d have preferred to just ride the bus.

The problem was, living way out in the goddamn county, there wasn’t a school bus from the plebian dregs of the city that came out to stately Wayne Manor.

Most of the lifestyles of the rich and snobbish types sent their kids to board at Gotham Academy – if they could get in – or Brentwood Academy over in Crest Hills if they couldn’t. But Jason was from the Gotham City public schools. And, between arrests and changing foster homes, he’d rotated around and his grades reflected it. Not that his grades were all that great to begin with. But, hey, who was he supposed to be trying to impress?

Willis “The Score” Todd had asked to see his son’s report card exactly zero times.

Had his dad even finished high school? Jason had the impression in his mind of his dad just being a thug his whole life. Moving from one boss to the next. First shaking down kids for candy on the elementary school playground, then probably graduating to hookers and blow in high school. Which, was pretty much all that his dad ever seemed to want.

Hookers and blow in high school. Yeah, now that he thought about it, that was probably right given how old Jason was compared to his parents.

How was that for a superhero origin story?

With a sigh, the boy got out of the Bentley. Alfred didn’t wish him a good day, Master Jason. But, Jason wasn’t offering the butler any pleasantries either. Instead, the man just pulled away as the door shut behind the boy, leaving him staring up at his prison during the week.

It was called Dillon Academy. A charter school. Probably the only place that Bruce could get Jason accepted, especially after his arrest for selling on school grounds that had prompted his last round with juvenile detention.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. If Bruce just cut a large enough check, Brentwood Academy would have been glad to cash it. And then they wouldn’t even have to put up with Jason in the mansion.

Seriously, Jason had caught Alfred counting the silver candlesticks to make sure the street trash hadn’t stolen anything.

...so why didn’t Bruce just ship his ass off to Brentwood?

Throwing the backpack up onto his left shoulder, the boy just gave another sigh as he put his head down and headed toward the doors.

Of course, if Bruce did ever send him to a boarding school, who would Alfred scowl at with such obvious disapproval?

A pair of dirty Vans stepped into the hallway. They were about the only personality he was allowed. A pair of navy trousers, white shirt, and a gray sweater with the school’s crest on the left side of the chest. A navy tie hung loose from the open collar. It’d be safe that way until Mister Hinkley in third period. Then he’d be told to straighten that tie, young man!

Wasn’t there some Roman philosopher dead dude who wrote about the levels of Hell? That’s what school was like. And it didn’t matter if it was public, charter, or probably anywhere else. There were the middle schoolers – Dillon called them junior high schoolers – and there were the high schoolers. And within those categories, you had the usual preps, jocks, freaks, and geeks.

Jason occupied the freak tier. So, not the bottom rung of the social ladder, but also not very far from it.

It suited him fine. Half these kids thought they were better than him. The other half probably were. A charter in the middle of Gotham, Dillon drew its students from all walks of life. Those who wanted to be there. And then the kids like Jason, the ones the public schools didn’t even want.

For them, Dillon was either a second chance or the last stop before prison.

What the hell was salisbury steak?

That shit was like a bun-less hamburger, lying shriveled and naked on a school tray, with some brown liquid sprinkled over it. And that gravy was sus as hell.

Probably that unpronounceable Wor-chur... or watercest-shire... however the hell that shit was said.

When he’d lived on the street, Jason had dug his dinner out of the dumpster behind the Denny’s in Brideshead. Or the East End Golden Corral. And that shit had looked more appealing than what was in front of him.

He poked at the yellowish-white lump that he thought was supposed to be mashed potatoes. Which also had the same brown sauce slopped over it.

He knew he shouldn’t complain. It was food. He knew better than anyone what it was like to go without. But living with Bruce, he didn’t have that problem. And Alfred was maybe, sorta, a kinda okay cook.

Honestly, Alfred and he had gotten off on the wrong foot because apparently the butler came through and picked up their clothes to do laundry. And Jason had a habit of stuffing biscuits and other bits of food into his pockets. Because street kid.

Apparently, that didn’t go over well in the wash.

Stabbing a fork into the congealed mash, the boy swirled the potatoes and gravy around on the tray absently. A glance up at the clock at least affirmed that the school day was halfway over. Now he just needed to survive two more classes and then it was coast until the last bell rang – because Jason had P.E. for his last period.

...which also saved him from having to shower at school. For this year, anyway. Assuming Alfred didn’t kill him before the start of the next school year, then Jason would probably be schlepping through a mid-period gym schedule.

The low point of anyone’s day.

“Jason Todd.”

You ever hear a voice and just automatically know it's a cop? Is it a tone thing? Or is it just that most people who say both his first and last name together like that are cops. Or judges. Judges definitely do that, too.

Turning his head, the boy glanced behind him to see – yep – one of Gotham City PD’s finest. The local school resource officer. Officer Montoya.

A hand reached out, taking him by the arm and bringing him up out of his seat slightly. “You’re coming with me.”

Note: What she didn’t just say was ‘you’re under arrest.’ Which, honestly, might be the first time a cop had ever said Jason’s name and then not also said he was under arrest.

And, for that matter, why were they even here? Not only was Jason clean, but he was living his best boring life. “Wait, what’d I do?” the boy blurted aloud, as the pieces started to come together as to what was happening.

Before he’d even realized what had just happened, Jason found himself being slammed down against the top of the table. And, for that matter, his lunch tray.

The side of his face planted into the mashed potato mush, as he felt his arms being twisted as the cop moved to handcuff him. "Wrong answer," the voice over him announced.

“Seriously!?” Flecks of potato and gravy shot out as the boy protested from his rather ignoble position, before being hauled up to his feet and dragged toward the door to the cafeteria.

This was just... a day in the life of Jason Todd.

Except this time, he was certain of one thing that hadn’t been true any other time: This was some bullshit.