𝕵̳. ᵀᴼᴰᴰ ⭑

ok girl

"because following someone around for the better part of an hour is odd behaviour. unless it wasn't you, in which case we may both have a problem on our hands." but he'll let red hood worry about that on his own time, assuming he can keep it without a watch.

a battle of who can make who seethe first. he plays these games often, only in his case, a battle of cat & mouse often lead to gunsmoke & a pool of iron at his feet, quickly disappearing into the shadows soon after. he can discern when to draw a weapon, & for now he's steady and poised, overly confident, with no reason to resort to violence. he's gotten word of him before, neither negative or positive, but reasonably informative; was only stalking around as a means to end his night on a note that only amuses him. make light of rather a boring patrol. he awaits further news of people he finds more important, down under, hands sneaking magic - based materials that'll do him time if not handled properly. some otherworldly bullshit he can't yet pronounce but will make him millions. but perhaps he's looking to gain intel from regulus. see if he knows a thing or two, about a thing or two. ❛❛        well i never said i exhibited normal behavior. that's your fuckin' fault for assuming otherwise.     ❜❜

he'll find his way to that information. for now he's having fun. friends & foes, and those in between, never fail to surprise him. a free hand gestures towards his helmet & he wonders how serious the other taking this situation granted they can't truly see each other. he's half smiles & playful eyes 'neath the shimmer of red & fluorescent light casting shadows off his person. he looks intimidating but his words say otherwise.         ❛❛        yeah, about that. it's kinda apart of this whole thing. figured you know that given your whole ... smart - assery.     ❜❜

IT TAKES HER A SECOND TO REALISE HER BEARINGS. for that split second, the music sounds a little too loud & she has the blinding urge to dig her nails into something.. merely to rip it apart. once felines fall on the culprit, she freezes ─ only for a second, before letting her heels melt into lace-up hot-pink wedges. JENNIFER'S AT AN ALL-TIME HIGH RIGHT ABOUT NOW. & all she can think about is the sweet release of flesh stuck in teeth. you can tell she's at the brink of expiration, sweetness turning *saccharine rot as her lancôme juicy tube isn't powerful enough to cover all the peeled patches on her lips. Still, she remains the most wanted there. ❛❛ jay─ I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING. ❜❜ it comes out rather ugly, like she's forgotten the past three months: the sweet 𝒥ennifer 𝙲heck who wouldn't dare hurt a fly– murdered in the span of seconds. but somewhere within those seconds there's a scan of his features by siren eyes, and immediately, she softens like a pup. it's enticing, sultry, almost– OUT OF THE ORDINARY, despite being the exact same expression she's known to always wear.. eyelashes flutter up & a manicured digit drags itself ever so slightly across his seemingly clenched jaw: ❛❛ ─Did ya' come 'cause you missed me reeeeeeal bad.. ? ❜❜

the anatomy of her hunger infatuated him, to which if she decided to recompense danger & sink pointed teeth into the flesh at his throat he'd probably let her. jason would like, at least, for his own sin to be a gathering between just them two; an unholy ceremony with a makeshift cathedral & faux prayers. for he will not be another body piled up on three he could care less about. he's selfish in that way. & hey are a venn diagram that meets in the middle, where love & violence kisses danger; where demonic possession & the desire to fill her own need meets the blood - lust coated on curled fists & taut knuckles. he would take life through rugged vulgarity the same she would with girlish gazes & plump lips; cat - like claws that trail alongside the skin of one's cheek. in jason's case, the scar that lines there, down to his chest until he began to breathe funny in her wake. when thinking deeply about his relationship with her he has to think if there's something wicked, or perhaps, greedy bubbling within him. or maybe it's the boyish insecurity of his own shame overwriting the human morality of right & wrong. but he is a demon in his own right. jason knows there's something dark inside her that pairs well with the monster that resides in him, so he should not assume in so - so's. black or white thinking is not a fix for their wrongdoing.

it's only after she's covered in grime does he come to her aid. he can hear the sirens wail in the distance, though he sees no bodies present. it was likely the echoing screams that set them off, curious - kitties failing at their jobs, finally making an attempt to do right by the student population. they'll be questions about it come morning, yellow tape around the premises, classes cancelled for the unforeseeable future. for now he wraps an arm around her waist, covering himself in blood that's neither his or hers, pulling her away with gentle strength he knows she can overcome with ease. it excites him. she's pulled until they're in shadows, just beyond the trees, in a back lot without the eyes of the inquisitive. she will be upset with him, is currently upset with him, but it's a risk he's willing to take on.

hazel hues bore into her darker ones, her face covered in red & her eyes lustful with want & need. jason shakes his head in attempt to take the upper hand, using calloused fingers to tug hair behind her ear. there's a bit of give then, strands sticking to her collarbones, painting crimson in places it wasn't in prior.        ❛❛        yeah .ᐣ well fuckin' campus pigs were gonna catch your ass if i didn't come.       ❜❜ sometimes he feels unequipped to flirt with her, voice always coming off a little too strong, a little too aggressive; his shield for being an un - perfect son, for being unequipped to walk this earth like any other normal being. she's shaped like heartbreak & authority. jason only looks the part.           ❛❛        imagine how bad i'd miss you if they put you away... imagine those couple hours in between you gettin' locked up & me bailin' you out .ᐣ shit would suck major tits.       ❜❜

she sees it all play out. perhaps not so obvious to those who don't know him so well. but barbara can see it in the twitches of his features and the flexing of his muscles. the small signs of . . something unnamed setting in. the same thing that haunts her in the middle of the night. that wakes her with a silent scream on her lips and a phantom pain in her stomach. her free hand hovers there now, just above where that scar marks her skin. an ugly reminder of all she had been through. the thing that had her throwing towels over the bathroom mirror for months, for even a glimpse of it would send her spiralling into nightmares of her own design. her breath catching, her heart racing, and her mind unable to be reasoned with. it got better with time, she could look at the reflection and run her fingers across the raised skin, but at times it still hurt. sometimes an ache that would last all day, sometimes a crippling pain that would keep her in bed. now it pluses, as if threatening her. hand presses against her stomach. not now. now she needs to focus on jason.

❝ hey - ❞ her hand leaves his, rising to sweep strands of hair from his eyes. her touch is tender. so featherlight that the pads of her fingers barely touch his skin. ❝ i understand. ❞ head tilts, allowing her gaze to find his and hold it. she won't be shrugged off, but she also won't push. she understands that sometimes to talk about it makes it more real. that it means inviting the devil into your mind and letting him take root. that's usually when she would retreat to the clocktower's gym room. fists would hit a punching bag, arms would burn under the strain of weights, weapons would hit targets with a thud. gaze sweeps the small lounge, until it finds the window again. it's started to snow now, the flakes falling thick and fast. ❝ i have an idea. ❞ a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. she turns from jason, grabbing a hat and a scarf that had been left behind by his brother. the items are thrown at him. matching apparel decorating her neck and head, paired with a thick coat and gloves. by the time she's grabbed him by the hand and lead him outside a base layer of show has settled. enough that she can gather up some of the white power into to large balls, lifting one atop the other to make a snowman. a pile of smaller balls are shaped and left at jason's feet, the last placed in his hands. ❝ go on. take your best shot. ❞

shame is a compulsion he has yet to defeat. despite being blameless for his death, guilt overrides those feelings entirely. he doesn't know who he is anymore, and he hasn't known since blood had coated his teeth at fourteen. everything has been red for so long & at this point the stains have become mold. it's evident jason hasn't come to terms with the trauma, merely swallowed it down until it sat doormat in the pit of his belly, swelled & coated with tsunamic waves of penitence he has since consumed. ( a memory of acidic knighthood, back when he pointed guns at their shared mentor, & later the early days of nighttime vigilantism of which caused damage to innocents in the process of doing "good" )⸻an intolerable mental state jumbled in between being hero & villain, all thanks to him.

he hasn't yet asked her how she dealt with her version of mental injury. never asked how many nights she spent waking in cold sweats, jolting upwards with her throat ripped raw from screaming in her sleep, alone in her room, confused on what to do next. has never made the connection that their shared perpetrator was a shadowy beast hiding in the blind spots of their vision. so why now, when appointed with the opportunity, can't he just ... speak .ᐣ why won't his leg stop shaking uncontrollably .ᐣ why does he feel tears swell in the corners of his eyes .ᐣ but instead of letting them fall he insists on swallowing them down, using the back of his wrist as a makeshift tissue that, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't do much to assist him. his cheeks still wet & sobs still descend from his lips.

he hated moments like this most of all. the memories never announced themselves & the overwrought feeling in his body never gave him warning, a time to excuse himself, or make amends. one second he was in their safe space, a boy watching winter take hold of their city, & the next he was falling apart, convinced they were followed, or perhaps he was years back in the past trapped inside a nightmare his body refused to forget. small again, naive, beaten. yet barbara's touch was as gentle as a sibling's would be, jason assumed it was his lack of saying anything that ticked her off, instead of how weird he had become in such a short amount of time. he inhales, shaky & deep, lowering his gaze from the warmth of nearby lamps & the pensive ticking of the clock he was focused on prior.        ❛❛        it fucking sucks, barbara.       ❜❜ he's able to admit in a mild sob, & at his point he doesn't contain the swears teetering on the tip of his tongue. he feels too scrambled to watch his mouth, or be anything other than who he has become in his forced adulthood. she doesn't give him much time to wallow in his pity.

... ⸻

one action had led to another, & jason could feel his body moving without him realizing it. he follows as lost as a mistreated pup looking for some sort of guidance by a kind hand. his in hers, a foot in front of the other until they were outside. the winter chill hit him hard. heat had bloomed in various places but the cold forced him to stay present. he found his footing, was able to regain air in his lungs one painful inhale at a time. hazel eyes watched her take a handful of snow and form it, he's slow to catch on, the seconds tick past, but he gains the confidence & his innocence rather quickly. he eyes the snow in his hands, thinks about his next step, & then it's thrown. careful of his strength & precision, it falls just below her left shoulder. he takes a few steps to the side, lips barely upturning into a smile of sorts. he knows the game, has played this before in their youth. he should hide if he knew what was best for him.        ❛❛        you won't win this. i'm faster now.       ❜❜ 

rue can't put her finger on where this place lives in her head rent free when she pulls into the parking lot but this trail keeps ending at the same kind of place: a 24-hour Walmart Supercenter where the assembly of cars never clears, just thins.

this girl's friends got worried first, the reason rue's ended up here, which always changes the shape of a case. not urgent in the obvious way, just that awful slow accumulation of absence. texts left on delivered, a shift she didn't arrive at, a last known ping (!!) somewhere off the interstate that doesn't narrow anything down so much as it does spread it thin.

so the trail starts doing what it always does: it stops becoming a line and starts becoming repetition. the same kind of place, over and over and over and over, then-

IN HER HEAD: this is where edward norton was beat up by brad pitt. that's what this place looks like. the world keeps recycling its own worst scenes just to see if anyone notices.

AND SPEAKING OF ... ' we really have to stop meeting like this. '

she says it before she properly sees him, bored like she's commenting on weather rather than this coincidence of a coincidence. sometimes, leaning into the cliche makes the cliche worth existing in the first place. irony on irony and falling into an already built script or something. @reknight is already there because of course he is. same angle of stance he always takes in these places, like he's ready for the parking lot itself to make a move first. just another guy who looks like he’s been awake too long and decided sleep is optional.

[12:01 AM ⸻ MIDNIGHT] the store sat as a monolith beyond a sea of parking lot fluorescents; against the grit of what could only be described as city - like darkness. barely illuminated by sweeping headlights from passing cars on a busy highway   &   semi - trucks hauling unknown goods from point a to point b, so close the noise echoed, barely faded even when the vehicle was no longer in view. super center just off from the rest of world, only other destination an overpriced gas station a mile or so off. when between the two places he prefers the former. less likely to have unkind eyes on them: an underpaid clerk questioning their whereabouts, or cameras on their person that guaranteed later suspicion. he's within the shadows, the back lot, covered in damaged leather & tattered jeans; back against bricks, sucking in tobacco   &   car exhaust. even at midnight it wasn't completely dead. a few drifted in   &   out of the lot, abandoning shopping carts in the middle of street as if they had anywhere better to be. jason watched with sleepy, hazel eyes, wondering how people could live life without questioning who or what is watching them.

❛❛        you're late.      ❜❜  he looked younger without the helmet, unknowing   &   relatively harmless. he looked the part of a young man one shouldn't approach. hair a nest of matted curls   &   dark circles that lined his eyes. lips coated in red dye and artificial sugar, the remains of his treat at his feet with the ashes   &   ants looking for something to bring home. he's amazed that rue was able to follow his direction, find him here, knowing his phone was broken in two   &   discarded not too long after he messaged her. leaving all his family   &   associates behind until he obtained another. he didn't look at her when she finally approached, but only blew smoke from between his lips, careful to aim it opposite her face as a courtesy. ❛❛        got a better place then, ruby .ᐣ      ❜❜         he keeps his voice low, cautious, expecting something to happen. he's not rude when he speaks. just a little sarcastic, his way of being friendly, open.