eyes on fire

Nancy had been rather hesitant, tailing someone who had been acting just the tiniest bit suspicious around the restricted areas around the carnival. But, she wasn’t as stealthy as she would have liked, as she was heard with relative ease by the suspicious party. Sheepishly stepping forward to the other side of the fence and looking at the stranger, she crossed her arms. “Would’ve liked to without you knowing, to be honest. You know this place is off limits, right?”

Oh. She thought she was a detective. It was so adorable it made J want to puke. yet she stepped through the fence. Couldn’t quell curiosity. It was like a worm, wiggles into your brain and would let you rest until you obeyed its command, screaming and-

Oh. Right.

Carnival.

It was never supposed to be like this.

He wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Sleeping with a man he barely knew, waking up in said man’s home. Domestic shit. The kind of normal life that had J looking for his pants fuck the shirt, most of the buttons were gone anyways and walking out onto the attached balcony.

The bite of the winter air seemed to clarify his mind. A good sort of pain. What was he doing with Bruce Wayne of all people? The brat prince of Truman, king of all the light touches and blah blah blah. It was all just meaningless chatter when given any sort of thought. A way to drown out the monotony. J was just using Brucie B for a little entertainment.

Any small amount of observation could tell that was a lie, however. Something deep within J, something primal and violent, was so very satisfied at this. J rested his forearms on the railing, letting his forehead drop down to rest on them. God, he really was a little screwy, wasn’t he? Willingly coming back to a man who kept talking about connections and that they were tied together. J let a laugh escape him, a painful sort of sound.

He was really losing it, wasn’t he?

Mallory sat on top of the counter, tracking her husband around the kitchen with her eyes. This was such a normal occurrence for them. Half nights of sleep, interrupted by a nightmare from one or the other. Her hands cupped around her glass of water, holding it in her lap. Really, it was Mallory who insisted that they started doing this together, terrified that he would pull further away.

“Are you still sure you want to... to try for-” The words didn’t want to leave her mouth, staccato syllables. She watched the light swing to her feet, felt the smooth finish of the cabinets on her heels.  Apparently, they were having this conversation now. Fantastic timing, she thought, who wouldn’t want to talk about this at 3 am?

Mallory held onto Felicity’s hands, practically bouncing. While the blonde’s discovery of her magic may have been alarming, at first, she was glad to help with the development of it. More witches! Mallory’s loneliness had decreased that much more, a welcome change.

But now was not the time. Now was time for very serious magic lessons. She shook her head, trying to fall into the role of ‘teacher’. It wasn’t that hard, in the safety of her own backyard. The flowers she imbued with just enough magic to get through the winter, the evergreens encircling the fence line as a means of privacy. It was a perfect place for magic, right out of a fairytale.

“You see the leaves on the ground between us?” She asked. Telekinesis was small, simple. They’d work their way up to bigger things. “I want you to try and lift at least one, more if you can. And then, anything else in the garden you want. I’m just here ground you.”

Mal pursed her lips, flipping through the spellbook again. She wasn’t good at this kind of magic, the prewritten, formulaic kind. Mallory’s magic, much like the woman herself, was impulsive. Innate. It was a midnight idea, the chaos of life, the spontaneous yet unceasing crest of the tide. She didn’t know how to follow the rules, certainly not any prewritten spell.

But she wouldn’t be here if Sansa didn’t trust her. Mallory wouldn’t have one of her closest friends kneeling in front of her. Wouldn’t be drawing a sigil with candle wax if she didn’t know the witch could do it. Wouldn’t have let Mallory thread rosemary into the ginger’s hair if she wasn’t certain. But still, she had to ask.

“You’re sure you want this? It’s just... the things that might come back. They could hurt, a lot.”

Zsasz was - excited when he saw Joker (no - Jack Napier now) coming up the street.  Perhaps he was a little too bored of the day to day life here, but he was practically bouncing.  Joke - Jackin his shop.  His shop.

Because even if the shop had been given to him by whoever was running all of this, it washis shop now.  They’d have to take him down to get it back.  And no one took Victor Zsasz down.

It was nice to see Jo- Jack (what a boring name, Jack.  Nothing like Joker or even Penguins.  Soso boring.  Zsasz didn’t know what he’d do if his name was that boring) in his shop.  There was a light in his eyes, one that reminded him of Joker, of chaos.  Of blowing things up.  Boom! Was there going to be a boom soon.

Victor was leaning against the wall behind the glass containers, arms crossed and eyes tracking the other man.  The cards.  Oh the cards.  When he’d seen Jo - Jack coming down the street, he’d run into his not-so-legal back shop to recover them.  He’d found them, oh probably two months ago, buried behind a box.  

To the average eye, they seemed like just a playing deck, decoration to enhance thegorgeous knives surrounding it.  Plus, the splatter of blood on them just looked delicious.  

“Sorry, what was that.  I wasn’t listening,” Zsasz said, pulling himself back to the present and out of the excitement of potential chaos.  Perhaps he was getting a little - premature.

He reached under the glass and snagged the deck of cards before leaning back again.  Just out of reach from Jo - JACK.  Fuck it.  J because JACK was a boring fucking name for someone as extraordinary as J-Man.

He wasn’t far enough away that J-man couldn’t reach him, if he tried.  But Zsasz wanted to see him try.  Wanted to see that spark.  The spark that he was missing.  Fuck he was b o r e d.  He needed someone to entertain him.

“These?  You like these?” he asked, hiking a brow bone up.  “I’ve got a shop full so full of weapons it’s Christmas come early, and you want these?”

He shuffled the deck in his hands, trying to look like he wasn’t watching J-man.  His head was tilted down, towards the deck, but his eyes were shifted upwards to watch the other man.

It wasn’t often Jack had a murderous impulse oh who was he joking, those happened at least twice an hour but this man, this man definitely would look much better dead. Head on a spike, killed with one of his weapons, endless possibilities. He was annoying, he was an inconvenience in what should have been easy and now the urge to wring the shopkeeper’s neck literally made J’s hands shake and-

No. He wasn’t like that! He wasn’t a murderer. A thief and a little bit of a hacker, yes. Maybe a few instances of arson thrown in there. But not a murderer.

Not yet.

But damn, if the idea wasn’t entertaining. “C4. Grey, flammable, goes B O O M !” A splay if his fingers, a raise of his eyebrows. “Slightly toxic, makes the world a bit more exciting.”

Yet the request seemed to almost leave his mind as the man pulled out the cards. They were Important. A fucking neon-colored monstrosity kind of important. Something he’d see in the streets of Gotham, and maybe that was why he wanted them so badly. He knew that wasn’t it, was only half of their intrigue.

“Must I do everything myself around here? Terrible customer service, a little tact is in order,” An aside, really. Quiet with a hint of disgust, underlined with disappointment. The last full, coherent thought in his head.

Right before vaulting right over the glass case.

Now J had to admit, it wasn’t his most graceful. Not by a long shot, sniper scope and all. But it got the job done, so he let bygones be what they will and kicked the other man into the wall. A thud, certainly obtaining some bruises. But it was enough to let J pluck the cards out of Baldy’s hand, thumb spreading the cards out.

They fully enraptured him, shopkeeper almost forgotten. J took a few steps back, right until he leaned against the casing, going as far as to sit on top of it. He knew these. Traced over the erratic doodles on every card, face cards hastily scribbles in with green and purple fucking glitter pen. He didn’t stop until he rested on one, a bloodstained ace with the suit scribbled out. Instead, there was a crude drawing of what he supposed was a bat.

Goddamn bats. They seemed to be following him at this point, seeing everything in those infuriating layers. And Baldy, well he was just making everything far worse.

yes, carol had never been the most friendly person - true, she had learned to be that way over time and.. there was nothing that could get her to change the way she had always been. still, after her memories had returned, she was.. trying to get better, trying to be better and.. honestly, she believed she was doing a pretty fucking fantastic job at it. there were the people in the gym, her friends from back at home and.. that kate kane she had just met? all of that led carol to believe she was off to a pretty good start. when he refused the beer, carol shook her head, before grinning. “well, more for me, then. can’t say i’ve ever been able to pass up a good drink.” taking her own beer to her lips, carol too a sip out of it, before turning to the other.

“not really, no. what gave it a away - my terrible attempt at trying to be charming?” she chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “sorry about that, just.. trying to open up to people a little more.  something tells me i’m doing a terrible job at it, but.. hey, can’t blame a girl for trying.” holding out a hand, she chuckled. “i’m danvers. carol danvers, nice to meet you.”

This is what normal people do, he reminded himself. They talked, they laughed, they enjoyed being around each other. And it was nice. Nice to pretend to be normal for a change. That his life up until now hadn’t been death and sand, where everything died so much faster than one expected. It wasn’t like that here. There was life here. Trees, unpoisoned water, happiness. The stability to allow people normal lives he only remembered snippets of. He grew up in a town like this, or so he thought. Hard to remember much after one had lived the life Cherri had.

“It was a halfway decent attempt. I’d give it a 7/10,” a small smile graced his face, a small attempt at humor. This is what normal people did. They joked and tried to make friends. Yet with the confirmation, Cherri knew he was lying to himself. There are some of them that could never be normal. “It wasn’t that. There’s a look that those of us that remember get. Our eyes are a little more clear, steps a little heavier from the weight of our homes.”

He’d like to say he didn’t know why he was here, but that would be a lie. He acutely understood the itch under his skin, the need to get out, to run, to destroy something with his bare hands. J supposed it was why he took the job, the one for the ‘home security device’ that was just a little too explosive to be on the right side of legal. Or, the implied explosives. The client had been a little too uppity, a little too entitled for J’s liking. So if it exploded just a little, broke down when the client least expected it, c’est la vie, right?

A job, a blueprint, a markup that required him to patronize a shop on just the wrong side of town, ones that were a dime a dozen in Gotham. He ran his hand along the glass casing in the front, eyes roaming over the knives and various displayed weaponry.

“I need C4. Preferably without the coating,” he spoke absently, eyes roaming over the glass case once more. A sharp pang of some emotion, some unnamed, infuriating feeling struck him. A deck of cards, innocuous enough, if it wasn’t for the telltale stain of dried blood on the edges, corners filed into razor-sharp points.

“Give me that.”

His voice was low, eyes on the deck. J knew those cards, could almost feel their weight in his palm. They were his. Even though the man had never owned such a thing, never had really been one for cards.

Fire was far from Misty’s friend, she had met her demise once before thanks to the flame but it was the first time she was resurrected.  And since then she tried to stay far away, but being with her new friend Mallory pushed her scary thoughts out of her mind.  Something only Delia was able to do for her before.  She was feeling warm and happy thanks to the fire in front of them and the alcohol inside, a little bit drunk but she truly didn’t care.  “Oh please, what was that like two years ago?  You act like you’re as old as me.”  Misty laughed and grabbed the bottle.  “but honestly this is so much fun you’re so smart to come up with this.”  She giggled and took a swig.