band-aids don't fix bullet holes.

When Tony woke up that morning and got ready for the day, having already prepped all the gear beforehand, he didn’t expect that the job would come with a plus one. A plus one that had the possibility of becoming a liability more than anything. “Faster, oh sure. But are you smarter?” No, of course the kid was. The men equipped were morons - all only trained with how to ‘watch their six’ and pull a trigger. It was hysterical how quickly Tony was going to mow them down - if Boy Wonder decides to actually leave the party and not stick around. The last thing Tony needed was a sidekick.

He visibly slumps against the chair when the kid is gone and groans out before he lurches himself forward and peers over the ledge of the balcony. The scuffle was short, barely a challenge; it was why Tony was taking his sweet ass time. He knew it’d take him twenty minutes tops for the entire thing, from beginning to end, so it only irritated him further that it was being interrupted by some trigger happy fledgling. Tony packed his scope away and dropped down from the ledge after and gives the two a look. “What are you waiting for?”

//

It wasn’t his plan to linger and interrupt whatever is going on here. This isn’t his job but it just figures someone dared to try stopping him from making an escape. Which is ultimately a foolish decision for them but Grant doesn’t have any remorse in pulling the trigger. He doesn’t work with other other people for a reason but sometimes he wonders what it would be like  befriending or forming an alliance with someone else in this line of work. It would’t hurt making some connections. He doesn’t think that this other guy is too interested in such an arrangement but it seems their paths are doomed to keep crossing. Grant watches as the older mercenary dropped down and posed the question. “Nothing.”

BANG.

Hearing his brother speak elicited a slight tightness in the back of Joey’s throat. The memories he once tried to suppress only resurfaced without further hesitation. His lips fought back a grimace with little resistance. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils, nodding at Grant.

“Actually,” he started, furrowing a brow when he felt the squeeze of Grant’s hand on his shoulder. “I ran into him a few weeks ago. I told him if he ever came near you again, I’d take matters into my own hands. He got upset. Said something about planning to apologize to both of us, but then he got upset and told me to ‘grow up.’ That it’s your decision and not mine. He was right but I retaliated by tossing him against the wall.”

For a split second, the younger fell to silence, outstretching a free hand to touch his aforementioned shoulder. His frown deepened, blue eyes averting their gaze from his brother. The shame of his actions was evident in his expression and tone. “I haven’t seen him since.”

This is a surprise, not expecting Joey to have met up with Daken at all. Especially not with hoe much they don’t get along but sometimes life has a funny way of throwing things your way that you wouldn’t expect. His hand pulls back, concerned for how the interaction went. “You tossed him against the wall?” He doesn’t know why that’s his first comment about the whole situation but alas, Grant asked of that anyway. He shakes his head for a moment, reflecting on what his little brother just told him.

“Sometimes,” he confessed, biting his lip. “Minus the other kids picking on me at school for not being able to talk. That’s besides the point, though.”

Joey waved a hand in the direction of the aforementioned table, scooting them far enough to allow both of them to sit at any moment. It had only been a few minutes and he didn’t anticipate the food getting cold just yet. He turned his gaze back to Grant, furrowing his brows to further express his concerns. 

“Look, Grant, I don’t care if there ever comes a point where you have to tell me to back off, especially with, you know, that guy you’ve been seeing. I just got scared because these mutants were telling me about his bad reputation in the city. The last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt.”

//

“You don’t have to miss that part. If we did everything all over again? I’d kick their asses even harder for what they put you through. There’s aspects to our childhood I wouldn’t want to live through again . . . Travis being one of those things.” Although the name doesn’t linger on his tongue for much longer.

He glances over at the table. They can go sit down in a minute since it seems that they have more pressing matters to discuss. He certainly had a feeling but they’ve always been able to work through all of their disagreements. Any concerns that his little brother has will be listened to. Grant doesn’t want to just sweep them under the rug at all.

Slow and shaky breaths fell past his nostrils. A haste hand reached into the inner pocket of his jacket to find his keys. Once he reached the front of his apartment doors, he pulled out his apartment key, pressing it into the lock. He looked back at his brother as he opened the door.

“I do worry about you,” he said, “but I should apologize if my opinions came off as dismissive of your feelings. We’re adults, after all. We’re older and mature enough to make decisions that are right for us.”

Once the doors were opened, he gestured an inviting hand for Grant to follow him inside. He turned his gaze towards the table, observing the arrangements he had set up prior to his brother’s arrival. 

“Thanksgiving is about us being thankful, isn’t it?” he added. “I’m thankful to have my family in the city. Well, that and father getting you out of that awful apartment you described to me after our reunion.”

//

Grant listens to his younger brother’s shaky breaths and his own concern sinks in. Maybe this is an old habit that lingers from when they were children. He remembers looking out for Joey when they went to school . . .  never afraid to throw someone who was picking on him up against the lockers. These fights got him suspended a few times but always felt worth it at the time.  

“I worry about you too but I feel as if maybe we worry about each other for different reasons.” Grant thinks about his next choice of words carefully. The apology is unexpected. “I forgive you since I can sense the sincerity in your voice. We are adults . . . not those kids anymore, are we? Do you ever mess those days? When everything was more simple? My biggest worry used to be not sleeping trough my alarm so I’d wake up on time for practice before school. Five in the morning was rough.” But worth it.

Grant takes a step into the apartment after Joey gestures form to follow him. “I’m thankful that we’re all in the same place. It’s nice, you know? I’m thankful that we’re all in good health.” He doesn’t say it but there’s especially thanks in order just for being alive again in general. “It was a dump. Bullet holes everywhere . . . you would have hated it.”

Seeing the man meet him at his level brought him back into that familiar trance from their last meeting, right before things turned sour. His breath caught in his throat, biting back the urge to grin from the scent he had missed for months. In spite of his hardened exterior, as revealed by his ‘Ravager’ uniform, he could hardly shy away from the man who (almost literally) took his breath away from their first physical encounter. 

The suggestion to act on his flirtations was a bold reminder of the previous circumstances. He could feel the slight shift in the atmosphere, tense with anticipation of each other’s next move. A defeated sigh fell past his lips, gripping the fabric of his uniform with his fingernails.

“No, Grant,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I had my chances and I’ve fucked them all up. You shouldn’t let me decide when I cut you off the last time. I know you found out from your brother but I’m sure you’d rather hear it from me, as well.”

A staggered breath forced Daken to pause. He brushed back the tears prickling from the corners of his eyelids with his gloved knuckle. Not since their argument had Daken expressed such despondence. Still, his efforts to fight back his evident sadness overwhelmed him. 

“I’m the reason Bobby attacked me,” he said between sniffles, “A few years ago, I seriously wounded his ex-boyfriend. Sometime before we met, I threatened the man who became Bobby’s current boyfriend. I was jealous because I mistook him saving my life for a fucking flirtation. He has every right to hate me. I’m still upset over what I did but considering my history, the two of us would have never worked out. No one ever stays when they find out how awful of a human being I truly am. I like you, but it’s only fair that you tell me what you want. Not me.”

//

It was one of his regrets in letting things end so badly between the two of them. Grant might be rough around the edges but when it comes to having feelings for someone? He softens up for that person and it’s hard to let go of the affection his heart latches onto. In his youth it took him a while to get over Travis but that’s in the past. He doesn’t care about that . . . only about how there are still feelings for Daken. There aren’t anymore secrets between them. He knows about his work as mercenary now which is obvious by the suit on his person and all the different weapons. It’s better not trying to count them all.

This shouldn’t feel so awkward but Grant is trying to remain optimistic while still having a little shield in front of his heart. He never learns from his mistakes when it comes to dating but maybe this can work out in his favor for once. They have work to do, things to discuss but Grant can’t deny how seeing Daken again makes him feel. He never should have walked out that day but here they both are again.

“Remember what I told you once? I value honesty so hearing it from you is a step in the right direction with me.” Grant has his reasons for the way he’s like this but won’t get into that because it’s all memories from his teenage years. He looks over at him, listening while they’re kneeled down to face each other. Luckily it seems like nobody else will be passing through here to interrupt their moment. “I appreciate you finally saying what really happened. “You mistook a nice gesture for flirting? It happens to everyone, Daken. Although most people don’t take it to those extremes. Bobby hates you now after the situation? How does that make you feel?” He thinks for a minute, processing all the new information.

Last month’s conversation with Bobby Drake was a harsh reminder of how carelessness would eventually backfire on him. Joey was no stranger to impulse. The incident that soon followed, in his mind, was a ‘spur of the moment’ decision. Whether Grant still had feelings for the one known as Daken wasn’t entirely clear, but he settled on an inkling.

“You don’t have to remind me,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m still recovering from those scars.”

When the elevator doors opened, Joey stepped out and made his usual left, catching sight of his apartment doors in the distance. He sucked in a sharp breath and turned back to his brother before walking towards his apartment.

“Speaking of recovering,” he began, ”no one’s been bothering you, have they? Especially not you-know-who? I know it’s not any of my business, but forgive me if I can’t help being the obnoxiously concerned little brother.”

//

“Still? After all this time?” Grant almost wants to offer to take him back on the ice and have a second chance at teaching his brother how to skate but the thought passes by quick as it forms. He knows how much Joey didn’t enjoy it the first time around and that’s okay. Grant had ice skating and hockey while Joey had his art. It would give him a distraction on trying to move past these feelings for Daken but it’s been hard. They formed such an intense connection so quickly and he really felt that there was a spark there . . . but what to do? “I won’t say another word of it for the rest of the evening.” The older Wilson teases.

Grant follows the other around to the left and to where his apartment would be waiting fo them. The apartment feels so close and yet so far. Is there tension in the air? He can’t understand why . . . but in the way of uneasiness.

“Nope. I haven’t seen Daken since I left his apartment that day.” He doesn’t know how to feel about it but knows how his siblings don’t approve of the man. “I know you’re just worried about me.” He leans against the wall by the apartment doors. “After losing me once I think you have a right to be . . .”

“Just got in,” Slade answered, looking up from the beer in his hand. “I was working a job.” Slade didn’t like to idle and he especially despised unknowing and uncertainty. When such things came up, he tended to lean into things that were certain. With Deathstroke back at work, there was the need to remind the world of his ability. It took grinding and building he hadn’t done since he was younger man. It was a fine distraction. “You know if Dick’s here?”

He sipped his drink before nodding to the fridge. “You can have a beer if you want to.” Slade’s free hand rested on Roscoe’s muscular back as he watched his son. Grant lived with Slade, but they very much had different lives. Slade appreciated that. It was private but not tensely so, he felt.

//

“I haven’t seen him so it might be just us. ” Grant can’t hear any footsteps in the house but isn’t really listening for it either. His senses are enhanced, which gifts him the ability to hear better than Humans do, but doesn’t use it often. Only when necessary since it felt wrong to listen in on private moments.

He wants to ask about the job his father just came back from but knows better than to be nosy by inquiring about fulfilled contracts.  They all have different lives but it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. “Unless Dick is asleep?” Grant didn’t look if he’s being honest, just sleepily wandered into the kitchen once leaving his bedroom.

“Thanks . . . ” He moves over to the fridge and pulls a beer for himself out. His hands easily opening it and taking a swig of the chilled alcoholic beverage. He leans against the counter for a moment before moving to take a seat in one of the spare chairs.

The tension in his shoulders relaxed while tuning further into Grant’s words. Hearing him speak of how he’s adjusted since his return was admirable. The elevator was halfway towards his floor when his smile softened, briefly retracting his focus away from other intruding thoughts in his mind.

“Makes sense that after all these years, you missed some of your old hobbies. You were always better at it than I was,” he remarked, shaking his head as he sheepishly recalled his childhood blunders. “I couldn’t get on the ice for a second without slipping and almost breaking my nose.”

//

Adjusting makes Grant feel normal. He knows realistically that he won’t ever be . . . not since he’s a Meta-Human and lives the secret life as a mercenary when not with clients at the gym. He does like reminiscing about their childhood. He could never forget any of it . . . much simpler times. Sometimes Grant misses those years. No worries and just focusing on sports. Life is much more complicated now.

“I do miss my old hobbies. I haven’t looked into finding some new friends to play hockey with yet but I figured that getting back into ice skating is the best place to start.” Grant smiles fondly and laughs a little at the memory “I remember you plopping down on the ice and giving up. Mom had to come give you some bandaids. Meanwhile, she couldn’t get me to leave.”

There was an overwhelming calmness that overcame Daken. His eyes softened underneath his mask. And yet, the true contentment was evident in the half-smile that formed across his lips. Hearing Grant cite their first meeting as a ‘good memory’ offered some reassurance.

He kept his expression intact before removing the mask from his face. From there, he used his free hand to brush back the stray hairs from his eyes. “Stab wounds can’t kill me,” he snorted. “No matter how many times you try.”

Hands were left intact on his lap, looking up at the other with his dark brown eyes. The urge, however, did not leave his mind for a second. Even when the nagging voice of his father forbid the idea of even seeing Grant again. Even when those associated with Grant confronted him. A slight shiver left his lips, but he was not yet ready to falter.

“Thirty seconds, give or take,” he said. “Only reason you caught me was because I accidentally dropped my phone. I wasn’t paying too much attention since I was so preoccupied thinking about your gorgeous face underneath that helmet.”

//

There was no doubt in his mind about their first encounter being a good memory. While it had ended with them being in the bedroom . . . it spiraled into something more. Those feelings were nice while it lasted but they still linger in his chest. He can’t help about how his heart still beats faster when faced with the man after all this time. How long has it been? Several months at least since Grant left that apartment after an argument turned sour.

He doesn’t hold resentment though . . . instead feels like that anger is gone. So much has happened since that morning and not all of it Grant is even aware of yet. “Healing factor comes in handy doesn’t it?” The same ability exists within himself too and has saved him more times than he can count. Except that one time it didn’t but the Ravager tries not to think about that moment of his life.

Now that they both have their masks removed . . . Grant feels himself becoming flustered but maintains his composure somehow. He places his mask down on the ground and kneels down to be face-to-face with Daken. “Thirty seconds.” He finds this amusing but also impressive. “Well now you’re looking at it . . . what are you going to do about it? I told you that I understood what it’s like to have blood on my hands. Now you know why. They call me Ravager.” A name that’s shared with his little sister.

@originalravager

LIKED for a starter! 🎪

"You took the dogs? Really?" That almost made Dick smile. The mental image of Slade piling his kids and dogs in the car to get them to safety was disarmingly sweet. Almost. Apparently he hadn't exactly been the best company. "Sorry for the false alarm. We really thought the bomb was under the city." The assumption made him feel stupid now, in spite of the content of Jihl's e-mail. The information hadn't been inaccurate, necessarily, but they didn't have the whole story. That ended up costing Bruce's life. It was something that still made him feel sick, even though he seemed calm on the outside.

Sitting on the edge of Grant's bed, he was quiet as Sasha nosed her way into his hand. "You doing okay?" Grant's return hadn't exactly been a smooth transition. Dick was trying not to overly involve himself in his personal life, especially since it wasn't any of his business, but sometimes he couldn't help but be concerned.

//

“Of course. They’re part of this family too.” Grant smiles while looking over at Dick as they sit on the end of his bed together. He cares about these dogs very much since his return and wouldn’t dare think about leaving them behind if they were evacuating. He reaches out and scratches Sasha’s fur before pulling his hand back to rest in his lap. The idea of being blown up didn’t sit right with him in the moment and it still doesn’t here and now. “No need to apologize. You didn’t know and did what you could with the information available.” Grant is used to situations like this but when news about what happened to Bruce Wayne reached him . . . he couldn’t believe it. Which only surprised him even more that Dick came here to check on him of all people.

“Are you worried about me? I promise that I’m alright.” Grant nudges the other with his elbow gently. He doesn’t want it to be all about himself though. He turns a little on the mattress to face the other man. “I heard about what happened to Bruce. I’m so sorry.”

“Out of your own-” Tony started in disbelief and had to put his scope down so he could turn and engage the other masked mercenary instead of just the sideways looks he had been giving him. “This isn’t some soup kitchen, kid. If you wanna watch, you gotta pay. Anyways, I’m not really in the mood for an audience right now, especially not when this guy’s packing and probably has at least four other men with him. All armed. I don’t think it’d be wise to stick around, not with that heat.” Tony explained and wiped away a smudge from the red lens. 

“Not unless you’re lookin’ for trouble; they’ll be here in two.”

//

Grant doesn’t know where his own sense of humor came from, maybe the influence of all his friends growing up influencing him after one too many parties. Sometimes he regrets not telling them about his abilities but they were normal in every aspect of the word. Still . . . their personalities rubbed off on him. “Shame that I don’t have any money to give you.” Grant can respect someone not wanting an audience with something like this. When you go to take care of a contract this isn’t how you want it to end. He hates that his mind is registering the situation as some sort of challenge though. “I can handle four men. I’m faster than whoever your guy hired.” He admits with a chuckle as he takes out his M1911 and makes sure it’s loaded.

“I’m sure I’ll run into one of them on my way out so you’re welcome in advance.” He states before calculating what the best route out of here is. It takes his mind only a few seconds as he’s leaping off the ledge of the balcony to the ground . . . where he is faced with one of the armed men as expected in the alleyway. How fun. Grant makes quick work of disarming the stranger and shooting him in the leg so he falls to the ground and then aiming the barrel of his pistol at his chest.

Soft breaths allowed him to keep a firm hold on his brother while the two embraced. Despite Grant’s return spanning months, the void of his absence felt freshly etched in Joey’s mind.

Once he pulled back, Joey reached over and gave a few gentle pats to Grant’s backside. He then made his way towards the elevator, pressing the button for his floor. Arms were crossed loosely against his chest, blue eyes anxiously shifting between his brother and the rising numbers on the elevator screen on his right. 

“So how have you been, Grant?” he asked. “I know it’s been a few months since you came back. A lot has happened but I hope you’re adjusting well.” 

//

Grant might have been back for several months now, nine to be exact . . . but that doesn’t mean everyone would have moved past the grief yet. Especially when it comes to his family, unable to truly imagine how difficult those eleven years were for his little brother. They were close, despite being opposites. Grant will hug Joey as much as he wants . . . not having a problem with that at all.

Once in the elevator though, his eyes glance over at Joey at the question. “Ah, you know, everyone makes those resolutions to stay fit with the new year. Which means I’ve been busy with new clients so that’s been thrilling to see who comes back each week.” He chuckles a little and pushes his fingers through his hair. “I’m thinking about buying some new ice skates and getting back out there. I just miss the feeling of being on the ice.” It didn’t need to even be for hockey reasons. He always felt his calmest out there.

It appears as if the city they’re living in is trying to resume some sort of normalcy but Grant knows that nothing will REALLY be the same after what happened. He didn’t hesitate to pack the essentials and be ready for evacuation on a moment’s notice at the time. He would follow his father’s instructions again in an instant if a situation ever comes up that would require him to do so.

Grant woke up early in the morning like usual, always been an early riser. Sometimes the reason would be to get a workout in but that’s not the focus for today. He stepped into the kitchen and spent some time making a fresh pot of coffee. This isn’t a normal part of his routine but after the chaos Grant needed this extra boost of energy. He holds the warm mug in his hands while making his way into the living room, discovering that someone else is awake. “Dad? How long have you been awake? Can’t sleep either?”

As the man he assumed was Grant approached, Daken watched the other’s movements with a more careful gaze. The way he flicked his knife in the air and caught it with minimal effort was more than pleasing to his sightlines. The air around the two felt stronger, potentially elicited by Grant’s growing presence, ladled with the intent to intimidate.

He offered no resistance when the other grabbed him, dropping his hands, despite the sudden tension in his shoulders. His lips soon parted, jaw agape, mustering only a few staggered breaths. A growing tightness in his chest left his heart racing. Even with his face hidden by his helmet, the other’s scent was unmistakable, despite the months they had been apart. 

“Just like when we first met, huh, Grant?” he forced his remark with an uneasy chuckle. “Except you grabbed me a lot harder than this.” 

//

The voice told Grant everything that he needed to know about who was beneath the mask. He always planned on telling Daken about Ravager eventually but then everything had gone sour. He hasn’t seen him in months and despite being hurt from the lies . . . he can’t deny the feelings waiting under the surface, trying to claw their way back out of his heart.

It won’t be that easy when there’s still certain conversations they’ll need to have before trying to head back down that path. They didn’t end things in a positive way.  Grant doesn’t know how he expects their reunion to be like but it surely didn’t look anything like this. His fingers are holding onto the older man’s jaw with a tight grip. He’s observing the tension before letting go.

“I remember how we met, Daken . . . It’s a good memory.” These words confirming that Grant is aware of his identity too. “You should feel lucky that I didn’t stab you.” While serious there is a hint of amusement in his tone. He reaches up to take off the helmet, revealing his face finally since it only felt fair. He holds it under his arm for now. “How long have you been watching me?”

@originalravager​

Rose didn’t like to mince words. She wanted to know what was going on, and she wanted to know from Grant. Joey had plenty of things to say about Daken. She hadn’t exactly been impressed by him, either. Somehow she managed not to make a huge scene, a miracle really, but it was also because she didn’t have all the answers. Going right to the source was the best way to figure out what was what. 

Flopping down on the couch, she tugged Roscoe over on her lap and clicked her tongue at Sasha. “I want a dog. So, will you tell me what happened?” Before Grant even had the chance to explain, her attention was caught by a broadcast of Joker. Of all people. “What the fuck?” She showed up because her dad and Dick weren’t there, but now she was instantly on alert for that same reason. “Where are they?” If there were a bomb in the city, then under no uncertain terms it was time for them to get the fuck out.

//

Very little surprises Grant these days. They barely settle down on the couch before the broadcast of Joker interrupts his thought process. He was about to suggest that maybe Rose should get a dog of her own. Maybe offer to tag along if she wanted to visit one of the local shelters to give one of them a home. None of this is expressed since he tenses up. “Well, shit.” He’s already standing up again and rubbing the back of his neck while trying to figure out what they’re going to do about this situation. “Unsure . . .”

His phone makes a noise, glancing down at what the message to see that it was from their father. “It looks like we’re getting the fuck out of here.” This might not be enough time for the majority of people to prepare an evacuation but for Ravager squared? It should be easy while they work together on it. He pets Sasha with one hand while typing out a quick reply with the other.

Well this was awkward. Tony wasn’t really in the mood for some kind of Mexican standoff - he was barely in the mood for the current hit as he’s gotten little to no sleep the night before - not to mention the spilled coffee on his lap and the sudden lack of hot water in the shower (all taken care of, but still really shitty). But he’d drag himself into whatever shit show awaited him - the kid was strapped to the nines himself, and there was no question what he was there for. It just sucked that he might have to kill him if things went south; he looked like he might know what he was doing.

Nevermind then? The kid’s admission of leaving had Tony stilling, confusion hidden away behind the skull that obscured his features. Features that not everyone was privy to. He tapped his fingers along the seam of the armchair he was currently settled in. “Standing or leaving, take your pick. I’m fine with either.” Tony then looked through his scope before he turned back to his company. “Out of curiosity.” He paused. “You wouldn’t happen to be after Dubarr, would you?” Maybe he’d get to kill him then?

//

This could go any way at this point . . . but the only fact that kept Grant feeling calm is that the person he’s here for doesn’t actually live in this building but comes to visit some of the tenants here. He just didn’t expect for his path to cross with another mercenary. It makes the whole situation very interesting so maybe that’s why his feet haven’t moved from this spot just yet. “Alright. I already took care of what I came here to do so doesn’t matter to me what happens next.” His arms still crossed over his chest, fingers tapping against his bicep for a moment. The place he needed to headed toward is to inform the person who ordered the hit that it was done but the thing is Grant did it in half the time promised. He was just that good but hardly ever brags about his skill.

Instead, Grant moves away from the table and moves a few feet away to lean against the ledge out at the building that the older man is keeping his scope pointed toward. “Nope . . . so he’s all yours. Maybe I’ll stick around to watch you do it, out of my own curiosity.” He wants to ask what the man calls himself but they haven’t really gotten to that point in their conversation yet.