Dramatis Personae

Breathe.

''It's like this... thing, crawling around under my skin,'' Jason started, his eyes still closed as he leaned against Dick. ''All the time and it latches on and it - it takes hold and it drags me under until everything is warped and painful and -''

Jason fell quiet, head hung low.

Breathe.

Cinnamon.

And Jason's stomach clenched. He reached for the toast, letting it hang between his fingers as he spoke again.

Clearly Jason had other ideas.

Dick's arm tightened around Jason's shoulders as he listened, quiet concern growing. With no idea what it was, there wasn't much he could actually say that would be of any help at all, but at least he could make sure Jason knew he wasn't alone. Not anymore.

God, it was heartbreaking. How long had Jason been struggling with this on his own to begin with? Not just this particular episode, but in general? The way Jason was talking, this couldn't be the first time it had happened, so why hadn't anyone else noticed? Why hadn't anyone else reached out? Bruce…

Well.

Bruce probably had noticed, Dick admitted to himself, but given how rocky things were between the two it was likely Bruce didn't think Jason would want his help. Especially not with something so personal.

Well, to hell with that. Jason hadn't hurt him, Dick knew, no matter how close it might have come; there was no way he was just leaving Jason to keep fighting this on his own. No chance in hell.

"You're a good man," he said gently. "You did what you had to do. You didn't do anything wrong here, okay? And I'm here now. You don't have to fight this alone. I've got you, little wing. Whatever you need, I promise, I'm here."

The words came out so easily, somehow lighter than the actual weight of the emotion behind them. There was nothing, Dick knew, that he wouldn't do for Jason. Probably nothing he wouldn't be for Jason, which in itself was a frightening thought, but…how could he do anything else, seeing Jason like this?

-- Bats? Interesting. He pulled out his phone, checking the Metanav to make sure it registered the safe room. "Okay. I'd say you need to take the lead to get us to the right area in the city, but the roads aren't like the ones in the real world."

He frowned a little, looking at the navigation. "So we follow the bats, the enemies we do see, and hope the city keeps the detours to a minimum." He clicked his tongue. If there was one thing Ren hated more than being forced into a war he wanted no part of(looking at you, Igor), then it was not having a solid plan or any control over the situation.

"I'll also warn you now that messing with real people's shadows can have catastrophic consequences in the real world if we're not careful. If we do manage to find the Palace or Jail, we can't just run in and solve the problem via the shadow. We do that, we'll kill the person in reality."

Phantom's warning, however, has Dick looking back over with grave understanding. "Hadn't had any intention of screwing with anyone's shadows," he says bluntly. "I've had my head screwed with before; wasn't a fan, and I don't like the idea of doing it to anyone else. All I need is to know who's causing the trouble, and I'll find ways to deal with it out in the real world."

That's what he does, after all. And if he can't deal with it, he knows other people who can.

If he had the cognitive function left to properly register it.

But all he felt was the quiet in his head left in the wake of those touches.

Jason sat at Dick's firm request, and as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he let Dick's presence soak through him. He moved through the kitchen, searching and cooking, the smell spreading, and that vicious beast in Jason's head eased and settled. Not gone. Never gone. But it was...

He could breathe.

Jason blinked, staring at the food in front of them—Dick had been in the kitchen still, hadn't he? How had...

''Oh...''

Thank you.

The silence that settled over them, though, had Dick fighting not to fidget. He'd never liked silence, not since his childhood, and right now there were far too many questions in his head that he couldn't - or shouldn't - ask right now.

What had happened? What had sent Jason so far down as to be reduced to something like this? Was there even anything solid to fight here, or was Dick trying to fend off a more spectral enemy?

-- "You're the expert on this city, not me." Ren shrugged. "What would you look for out in the real world? What do people know you respond to?" He kicked off the wall and sat next to Nightwing on the couch. "How do you normally read the city? The signs will be louder here, that's all."

Idly, Ren reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of what looked like glorified juice boxes and tossing one to Nightwing. "Here, drink this. It'll restore your stamina." He popped his open and took a sip, grimacing at the taste. It wasn't his favorite, but at least it helped.

"If the bad guys are going to avoid me, then we look for the ones that don't." He looks up, serious. "Criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot, according to the guy who trained me, so if the ones here know to avoid me, then anyone who doesn't is extra bad news."

Which, Dick considers, holds true in real life as well. Blockbuster never tried to run from him - the exact opposite, in fact. Torque, too, and that kid Tad, and Tarantula…the ones who'd been particularly bad news had challenged him rather than retreat. It had been like that in Gotham, too.

"Right now we're in a neighborhood called the Zee Mores," he says, calling up a holographic map of the city through his gauntlet. "It's one of the worse-off areas of town, but in Bludhaven that's never been the source of the rot. For that, it's always been higher up the chain. Mayor's office, police chief…though the new chief's actually not too bad these days, luckily, but you get the idea."

-- "Sounds like me and my team." He smiled. "The Phantom Thieves of Hearts were born out of a desire for freedom and justice. We help the people that fall through the cracks, the people that the police can't or won't help." People like himself.

"Seems like you've done a lot for the people here. Enough so that this place is reacting to you." He folded his arms, regarding Nightwing calmly. "There's only one reason we wouldn't have been accosted far more by now, and that's if the Shadows of this place knew that they couldn't be around us without severe repercussions." The Shadows in Mementos had learned to run from Ren, after all.

Because Bludhaven knows him?

Because his city trusts him?

He stares at Phantom for a moment, unaware of the small, almost grateful smile on his face, before looking around at the lobby they're in.

His city trusts him.

God, that's all he could ask for.

Reaching out, he runs a gentle hand along the wall. "…All I ever wanted to do was help," he says softly. "And if I can, then I will. The 'haven's been through some pretty rough times since I came here…" Hell, it got bombed because of him once, though it's been rebuilt since. "But she's a tough one."

-- He headed in behind Nightwing, leaning up against the wall near the door once it closed. "This is what we call a Safe Room. It's a place where the distortion between Metaverse and Reality is thinnest. If you focus on your surroundings, you'll see the real building we're in." He could see it himself. It was a small apartment building lobby, nothing significant--not to Ren, at least--but it was enough.

Ren pulled his mask from his face and rolled his neck again. "I can. It'll be a little harder, because I'm used to Navi being here to help, but if I find a Safe Room, I can reliably get back to it every time." He smiled fondly, thinking about Futaba. He missed his team.

"So you wear that out and about and...what, fight crime?" He was starting to pick up on a few things himself. Especially given the way that Nightwing was reacting to this world and, more to the point, how this world was reacting to Nightwing.

Huh.

"Pretty much, yeah," he confirms with an easy shrug. "Cops can't do it all, and in Bludhaven for a while they barely bothered at all. Used to be that unless you had a concrete, open-and-shut case there was no chance of anyone taking so much as a pickpocket to court, but…" He looks around with a small, proud smile. "Things've gotten a little better."

He might not have been born here, or raised here, but Bludhaven has become Dick's adopted hometown. Bruce sent him here originally to discover the truth behind a series of bodies, but when he'd realized how bad things were he hadn't been able to turn away. It hasn't always been the easiest time here, but they've made it through so far.

-- As he was listening to Nightwing, he was still scanning his surroundings. They had been walking for a while, and luckily, they hadn't run into anything else. But then something caught his eye. A building that stood out; the front door shimmering in that way that Ren was all too familiar with. And above the door?

The same symbol that was emblazoned on Nightwing's chest.

Ren smirked, pointing to the symbol as he walked toward the building. "That might be a good place to start." He glanced behind him at Nightwing before pulling the door open and holding it for him.

Well.

How about that.

They like him. They really like him.

Dick can't help the pleased smile even as he ducks his head, one hand raking through his hair. "Guess so."

It's actually incredibly reassuring to see that apparently his city sees him as something safe. As a protector. It's what he's tried to be since the first day he set foot here, and apparently he's managed to earn enough regard to leave his mark even here.

And here is arguably where it counts most.

-- Ren chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment before acknowledging that Nightwing had a point and shrugging back into his coat. They didn't have the time to stand there and argue, anyway. Until they found a safe room, they had to constantly be on guard. "Alright."

He motioned for Nightwing to follow him as he started walking. It didn't take long to figure out that the roads wound and twisted just like Mementos Underground did back home. He put his hands in his pockets as he walked, taking careful stock of the humanoid Shadows around them. They wouldn't notice them, wouldn't care. They weren't the problem.

Honestly, it's kind of fascinating. And it's an incredible opportunity, from a certain perspective; how many chances is Dick going to have to get a glimpse into the subconscious of his own city? Or any city at all? He's not shocked that there's some kind of distortion here, but the fact that it's not hugely noticeable is honestly reassuring.

It means he's doing his job.

It means his city isn't the hellhole it could so easily be.

What must it have looked like during Blockbuster's reign? Back when the corruption was so clear it came from the top down rather than the bottom up? When over half the police force was on the take, the drug lords and crime bosses had more authority than the mayor?

Had Blockbuster been one of those who'd had a Palace in here?

Maybe.

No point in wondering now. Refocus, look at the city around him now - really look - and see how it's perceived by its people.

-- "Oh, not hardly," Ren replied with a sigh as he resheathed his knife. "Wait until you meet the dick-chariot." Mara still made him uncomfortable to look at, and he had one in his head. Just thinking about it made the voice louder than necessary, but Arsene was doing his job masterfully by keeping the mental door shut and locked except when Ren needed something.

He sighed, rolling his neck a little. "The deeper we get, the more dangerous they'll get. We were lucky these guys were the little ones." He paused, looking at Nightwing and taking in his entire suit. "My outfit is born of this place, and it protects me from the distortions here. I don't know if yours will do the same." He frowned, thinking. "I've never really seen what happens to someone if they spend too long in this world without a Persona, but I know that you're far more susceptible to becoming distorted yourself without one."

As Phantom looks him over Dick glances down at himself. Nothing seems to have changed, except there's no tear in his suit where he'd gotten hit earlier. It's rated for a lot of things, but metaphysical hijinks are probably not among them; he'll definitely have to be careful not to get hit here.

More careful than usual, anyway.

The proffered jacket gets a look, as does Phantom's noticeably slender build. They might be the same height, but the way that jacket looks tailored to its owner Dick has some reservations about how it might fit him. "I think I'm a little broader in the shoulders than you are," he says with a wry grin, waving the jacket away. "Besides, it'd probably just get in the way for me. If this place is dictated by perception, then so long as I can maintain a solid idea of who I am I should be okay."

Dick rolls his shoulders, looking down the path ahead of them. "It's all down to willpower in here, right? And as long as I can see them coming I can dodge what I can't fight." Confidence rings in his voice, without a trace of arrogance; Dick knows his abilities, and he knows his limits.

-- He had been hoping that Nightwing had something like that in his toolkit. It gave him time to pull out Narcissus. It was a risk, he knew, but with Nightwing moving as fast as Ren had hoped, he knew he wouldn't need to worry too much.

The Jack O Lanterns cried out with their usual Owchie, ho! selves, which Ren had to try very hard not to roll his eyes at. He raced forward, Narcissus beside him. "Now! Blow them away!"

Narcissus raised a hand, and a gale swept up from nowhere, making the enemy cry out again as they collapsed to the ground. "Now," he shouted back to Nightwing. "Hit them with everything you have while they're stunned!" And he did just that, moving faster than should be physically possible.

But this was a place where the speed of thought was key. Ren could do anything he put his mind to here, and so could Nightwing. The combination of the projectiles Nightwing had used and Ren's wind, the Jack O Lanterns didn't last long.

Ren wasn't even winded, though he'd be a little surprised if Nightwing wasn't. This was his first time fighting in the Metaverse, and even if he didn't have a persona, it was very different from fighting in the real world.

Oh god, they're adorable.

Dangerous, but adorable.

Dick doesn't need the encouragement, or the instruction, to attack; he's darting forward even as Phantom shouts, escrima swinging. The world around him is a blur, Dick not fully aware of just how fast he's moving until the little cartoon guys are gone and he's left standing there barely a handful of heartbeats later.

The heaviness of the air has him panting a little, as if this had been a more drawn-out fight, but he hasn't broken a sweat yet. It might take him some acclimating, like fighting at altitude, but so far? The Metaverse isn't so terrible.

Of course, he supposes, they're still only in the outskirts. Doubtless it'll get harder the further they go.

-- He steps through the arch and looks around. The world doesn't look different, except...

There.

Little tendrils of pulsing shadow skittering along the ground like sickening capillaries. He gestured to them, pointing the out to Nightwing as they walked past them. "That is the big indicator of distortion. The smaller they are, the smaller the distortion in the cognition of the city as a whole."

He turned a corner and froze, instantly hopping back and almost literally blending into the shadows as he peeked around. "See that," he hissed, motioning with his head toward what could only be described as a lumbering mound of sentient darkness that bore a full face mask of pure white. "That is a Shadow, a denizen of the cognitive world. Not born of a real person, but born of the accumulated subconscious."

He gritted his teeth. "They aren't friendly to outsiders." He cast a glance over his shoulder at Nightwing. "I can take it myself, but since I know you won't stay put, just follow my lead."

That said, he lined himself up, darted out, grappled onto the ceiling above the Shadow, and flew so he could land squarely on its shoulders. It instantly started to flail, but Ren had already grabbed hold of the mask on its head. "Show me your true form." The command boomed from his voice with far more authority than he really should have, and he ripped the mask audibly away from the Shadow and leaping from its shoulders to land in a fighting crouch between it and Nightwing.

The Shadow flailed around for a moment more before exploding into dark puddles and revealing....

He's not shocked.

He'd honestly be more surprised if there wasn't some kind of distortion present.

Still, it's small for now. That's not nothing. By what Phantom said earlier it won't stay that way, but maybe they can find and solve it before it gets much bigger.

Dick keeps following, sliding right back into the shadows as Phantom does and peers around the kid's shoulder at one of the shambling masses of darkness. From here he can see the white mask on the thing, which is…odd, but nothing about this place is exactly normal in any case.

He holds his position as Phantom darts forward to rip the mask off the thing - with a dramatic flair Dick can't help but appreciate, as a performer himself - but the result is honestly almost comical.

For one thing it's tiny. Barely waist-high, it looks like. And for another, it looks like a cartoon character. A little guy with a pumpkin head carved in a grin, with a doofy hat and a doofy lantern, it would be so easy to not take this thing seriously at all even if there are two of them.