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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 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.]