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tushanshu_logs2012-10-11 05:51 pm
cowled) wrote in tushanshu_logs2012-10-11 05:51 pm
rock and roll ain't noise pollution
Characters: Batman and open.
Date: The night of the 11th/morning of the 12th.
Location: All over the place!
Situation: He is the terror that flaps in the – wait, wrong caped crusader. Essentially, Bruce is running around being vengeance and the night and all that fun stuff.
Warnings/Rating: Bruce isn't really prone to excessive amounts of talking when he's Batman, so threads might run a little bit short. Rating... expect some violence, maybe?
Notes: Feel free to toss actionspam or prose at me! I'm good however. Bruce is going to be all over the city doing all sorts of things, just ask if you want me to set something up for you/your character, otherwise feel free to jump right in. \o/
[Even here, it feels like fighting an endless war. The city's been quieter after the war and most of the active gang members ended up behind bars, but the problem with that is the power vortex it leaves behind. He's spent the last few weeks fighting that momentum, to ill effect. People are still being robbed in the streets, and the brutality of those robberies has escalated. More than once he's arrived too late on a scene to do anything but damage control.
Long nights. Longer days, too. But the fight goes on, and Bruce wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The front lines have always suited him. Even now, he doesn't think he ever could be a sideliner. Those few months after Bane were some of the hardest in his life in terms of sheer personal inability. Bruce was so accustomed to pushing himself longer and harder than anyone else that finding out that there was a limit even to his tenacity had been terrifying in a way that not much else ever was.
Keeliai is nothing compared to Gotham. Compared to Apokolips. The Source Wall. It's nothing compared to Darkseid's siege on Earth, to losing his mind. To being lost in time.
He has allies here. Family. And although there is an omnipresent threat of danger hanging over all their heads, it doesn't have the aura of urgency or desperation that so often permeates the crises he's faced on Earth.
He wouldn't go so far as to say that Keeliai has made him complacent, because 'Batman' and 'complacency' are as far removed in meaning as any two words in the English language can be, but he is... calmer here, almost. After a fashion.
It doesn't mean he's lost his edge. It just means he's found a little serenity instead.
Lbr, he's still punching thugs in the throat, though.]
Date: The night of the 11th/morning of the 12th.
Location: All over the place!
Situation: He is the terror that flaps in the – wait, wrong caped crusader. Essentially, Bruce is running around being vengeance and the night and all that fun stuff.
Warnings/Rating: Bruce isn't really prone to excessive amounts of talking when he's Batman, so threads might run a little bit short. Rating... expect some violence, maybe?
Notes: Feel free to toss actionspam or prose at me! I'm good however. Bruce is going to be all over the city doing all sorts of things, just ask if you want me to set something up for you/your character, otherwise feel free to jump right in. \o/
[Even here, it feels like fighting an endless war. The city's been quieter after the war and most of the active gang members ended up behind bars, but the problem with that is the power vortex it leaves behind. He's spent the last few weeks fighting that momentum, to ill effect. People are still being robbed in the streets, and the brutality of those robberies has escalated. More than once he's arrived too late on a scene to do anything but damage control.
Long nights. Longer days, too. But the fight goes on, and Bruce wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The front lines have always suited him. Even now, he doesn't think he ever could be a sideliner. Those few months after Bane were some of the hardest in his life in terms of sheer personal inability. Bruce was so accustomed to pushing himself longer and harder than anyone else that finding out that there was a limit even to his tenacity had been terrifying in a way that not much else ever was.
Keeliai is nothing compared to Gotham. Compared to Apokolips. The Source Wall. It's nothing compared to Darkseid's siege on Earth, to losing his mind. To being lost in time.
He has allies here. Family. And although there is an omnipresent threat of danger hanging over all their heads, it doesn't have the aura of urgency or desperation that so often permeates the crises he's faced on Earth.
He wouldn't go so far as to say that Keeliai has made him complacent, because 'Batman' and 'complacency' are as far removed in meaning as any two words in the English language can be, but he is... calmer here, almost. After a fashion.
It doesn't mean he's lost his edge. It just means he's found a little serenity instead.
Lbr, he's still punching thugs in the throat, though.]
no subject
He's almost as driven as Bruce. The thought almost makes him smile. There aren't many about which he could say the same.
As much as he dislikes what the man stands for, as much as he's irritated at Clark's interference and Rogers' stubborn refusal to realize that there's no need for killing in this place--
He does respect the man. To a point. Which is what prompts him to step out of those shadows and towards him. Bruce throws a bag of chalk at him in an underhand. For his hands.]
Captain.
[His tone is still coiled tight with the tension and irritation from their last conversation, but it's... cordial enough. For Batman. Despite that.]
no subject
Sir. [He dips into the chalk, smudging it over his hands. He mounts the bars again, keeping his motions simple enough to be a secondary focus. Even this is good practice - ability to balance physical and mental, muscle-memory training while conversing.] Did Superman tell you we talked?
no subject
Yes.
[That is a yes that implies that he and Superman have no secrets between them.
Bruce has a room full of kryptonite back home that would beg to differ, but I digress.]
no subject
Did he tell you what I said? [Because he's been thinking about it, a lot. The idea of killing, the idea of swearing not to do it, the fact that it's a promise he couldn't make then and there. He certainly let his feelings about it go with Peggy. Intoxication helped that process along.
There's still a certain longing in him, the broken wish for peace that comes with being the son of two wars. There's still that wondering what peace would even feel like. If it would be that tense state of anger and loneliness and waiting that came between waking up and being called on to fight again.
He picks up the bag of chalk from where he left it, next to the base of the bars.]
no subject
['Get to the point'.]
no subject
Did he tell you I said you were arrogant?
[It's like picking a fight in a back alley, in some ways. He doesn't know the ground he's treading on. He has very little right to speak familiarly at all. But this matters, and not for him.] You have some reason to be. I've seen you fight, I know you're intelligent, resourceful, more than I am. I've been keeping tabs on you as much as I think you have on me - well, less so. You're a hard man to find.
[Steve smooths his hand over the closest bar, trying to find what he wants to say.] You have a very particular gift, sir. You make people want to please you. Even people who barely know you - who have records of service, and no reason... [He ducks his head, smiles at nothing, and steadies himself to go on.] Who have absolutely no need for validation from a stranger.
[It took him long enough to parse that out.] But you're arrogant. A gift like that - needs humility. Or eventually the people who want most to please you will resent you the most for never feeling that they have.
[Another pause. He's about to overstep, probably. Overstep more.] Batgirl. I thought at first she was your protege, but she... corrected me. Last time we talked. I have to ask - why isn't she? What in God's name do you think she can't do? Because if you give her one word of praise, she gets a look on her face like she can do anything at all.
no subject
But at the end of the day, he's aware of his limits. He's learned them dearly, and although he isn't humble (a useless sentiment as far as he's concerned) he damn well isn't arrogant. He's far too self aware for that, and at such cost.
Which isn't to say he's never been arrogant. He has.
But he's learned.
And though he's certain the lecture is well-intentioned, it's grossly misguided and shows a poor estimation of character on the Captain's behalf.
Bruce has absolutely no reason or need to justify himself to this man. If it was Clark speaking to him like this, that would be another story. Truthfully, they've had their fair share of like discussions ('you're arrogant' versus 'you're a naive fool', generally) but he and Kal have more than a decade of personal history. This man has all the presumptions and pretentions of the boyscout attitude that Bruce so hates and none of the insights that Clark has earned throughout their friendship.
Almost, almost he turns to leave. But there would be a certain petulance to doing so, and Bruce knows better than to leave himself open to further censure in that regard. Better to end this, here and now, so there can be no further question.]
Next time you attempt to analyse someone, Captain, you'd do well to act on more than an incomplete psychological profile.
[There's nothing to his tone. No anger. No amusement. His voice is hard, but then it always is when he wears the cowl.]
As for Batgirl, I don't believe that's any of your business.
no subject
[He almost shifts to parade rest, an instinctive defense position. He doesn't. He's not a match for this man, but when has that ever stopped him before? And if he doesn't act as someone who stands on equal footing with Batman - someone who may have less experience, but still has clout in his own world - he really does have no right to speak.] She's my friend. I care about her continued health and happiness, and so it is my business - it's my responsibility - to at least say this. You know her better than I do. You may disagree with me again. But Batgirl is... passionate, and driven, and she has a good heart. She wants to learn. She wants to get better. And from what she told me it sounds like she doesn't have that many people willing to give her the chance. She's a force to be reckoned with, or she could be. And she's angry and bitter and reckless.
[All of this at once drives home how familiar Steph seems, how well Steve feels he knows her despite the duration of their acquaintance. She's like Rikki.
She's like him.] Batgirl respects you, sir. Also I think hates you a little bit. All of that together is going to get her killed trying to prove she's worth a look. She's going to... [He wishes he could introduce Steph to Erskine. Is more grateful than ever for Peggy pointing out his larger mission, for believing he could do it without question.] She's going to impale herself on the sword of your indifference. At least... that's how it seems to me.
no subject
[He steps in closer to Steve, and his voice drops very low when he continues,]
I held that girl's hand as she died in a hospital bed. Don't you dare, don't you ever tell me that I'm indifferent to her.
no subject
[That. Was not an answer he expected. He's not sure what he did expect - maybe another dismissive comment about his inexperience or competence, or that definitive silence Batman seems to do so well.
Steph died.
It's not surprising. That's the awful part. But it's heartbreaking all the same.
Steve doesn't move. Part of him is already calculating evasive maneuvers, engagement strategies, analyzing the terrain for any advantage he might wring out of their surroundings.
He's so far over the line he might as well be standing in the enemy's capitol building.
Steve's own voice is low, not a challenge, not defiant. Almost apologetic.] Should I ask how she got there, sir?
no subject
And Bruce--
Holds very, very still. Barely breathing. Every instinct he's honed over the past two decades is sharp and tautly strung and screaming for him to give into impulse.
A fight between them would end badly for both. Bruce knows he'd win. But not without cost. And it would serve nothing. No purpose, no point. Rogers is goading him. A contest of egos.
His expression, his posture hasn't changed at all to reflect the sharp, incandescent rage that's building slow, crawling along his spine. The only change is to his eyes behind the domino mask. A flicker of expression that perfectly quantifies the abrupt, slit-throat death of any possibility of esteem he'd held for this man.
And then he simply turns and walks away.]