resurrection.

mary jane doesn’t understand why mama insists on her having a tutor.   it isn’t like they’ll be staying here long,   even though mary jane could never say that to mama because mama’s convinced that this time around it’ll turn out good.   it’s a good school with a good programme,   mama had told her the first day when they moved in,   brushing mary jane’s hair back with this wide,  beautiful smile.    you’re gonna make friends in no time!    she has made zero friends so far.   well,   there’s stiles and alisha,   she guesses,   who are kind enough to be her lab partners in mrs johnson’s class,   but    …    she still spends lunch time in the bathroom stall.  so.  does it matter ?  

and she has no idea where gayle’s gone to.   gayle isn’t supposed to go anywhere,  but apparently she has some friends she said she wanted to meet   (   what friends ?   mj has no idea.   they just got here two months ago )  ,  and now mary jane doesn’t know what time gayle’ll come back.   mama’s not gonna be happy for sure.   and now mary jane’s even failing this tutoring session.   she hates this.   she hates not being able to be as quick with all these sentences and exam questions like she should be.   and she hates that jason’s obviously not happy with her progress.

are you gonna scream at me?   she’d almost wanted to ask,   way too old for a mere thirteen year old.    are you gonna yell and hit me ?    mary jane doesn’t know,   but for some reason,   all she’d wanted to do was see what he would do rather than placate any annoyance she’s brought forward in him so far.   so mary jane pushes at the book,   and groans.   loud.

❝   no,  ❞    she pouts frustratingly,   ❝   i still don’t get it.   what’s the point ?  ❞

   @ridingred   +  plotted

     jason’s slow march towards insanity was definitely being sped up by the undeniable and fucking horrendous energy of one mary jane watson from school. he had, naively, thought that the whole tutoring thing would be a piece of cake--after all, he was doing great at school, his grades were impressive and despite way too many late nights and poorly concealed vigilante related injuries, his attendance wasn’t terrible either. in theory, he thought he could handle this.

     but hell hath no fury or compressed-into-a-single-entity restlessness quite like mj. he likes her more than he does most of his other schoolmates--mostly because they’re all snobby rich kids, and despite technically now also being kinda rich (or at least living in a rich guys house), jason has yet to even want to figure out how to properly get along with any of them--what can he say? he doesn’t think the charming crime alley accent helps his case much. 

Bruce resisted a chuckle, but the corner of his mouth twitched for a second. “The next time someone says it’s important, I promise it will be important and we need you here.” He gave an eager nod, craving Alfred’s cooking right now just as badly. “And waffles. And pancakes.” He pulled the chair next to him out for Jason to sit down. “We need to work on the communication.” 

While dubious in terms of quality, Jason knows for sure that life was at least easier when the lot of the bats had basically banished him, or generally ignored his existence for everyone’s benefit. At least then he didn’t have to worry about scheduling so much. “Y’sure about that? The lot of you give some pretty dodgy reasons for ‘important’ summons.” Jason’s starting to keep a list of all the dumbest reasons someone has used their official comms to drag him out of bed. At least this entry came with food. He sighs and collapses into the chair. “Think that one’s a lost cause, B. For it to work everyone’d have to be speaking to each other, in the same timezone, not doing UC shit and not be dead.”

      Steve’s brows lift a little at the man’s question, and he takes a moment to glance him over. he doesn’t know who this one is, admittedly. doesn’t know what side he’s on, either. so he doesn’t put the shield away, keeps it in his hand as he cocks his head just a little bit.  

    ❝ you don’t need to salute me. ❞ he tells him, stepping closer to offer out his hand.  ❝ Steve Rogers. Who’re you? ❞

     --alright, already going better than any recent run in’s with JL members, but Jason is a wary thing by nature. eyes the extended hand for a moment longer than is probably polite, undoubtedly suspicious before grasping it with his own gauntlet covered hand and shaking firmly. 

After a few miles...

Hitchhiker: Aren't you afraid that I might be a serial killer?

‘   technically,  i didn’t.   he was just following orders from higher ups in the organisation we’ve planted him in.   gotham just happened to be one of the site he was assigned to.   ’     but why would vigilantes care about semantics?   easy.   they don’t.   and by the attitude he’s giving her so far,   maria certainly can’t be expected to have an apology letter with some flowers delivered.  too bad  -   she’s already fantasising lily and baby breaths.

‘   the problem is he’s supposed to get us the information on the fact that the drug trafficking doubles as a human trafficking and human experimentation syndicate.   apparently,   being super-powered is all the jazz right now.   who would’ve thought ?   ’    she’s dry,   but not without a hint of a smirk marring the edge of her mouth    -     it’s not really a shock for her to have figured out that red hood is,  in a way,   an enhanced human too.   it’s just  how  is he enhanced,  and  to what extent   is what’s not on the records.

it doesn’t matter.   she’s not here to evaluate him.   maria moves on :   ‘    we can’t get any information now though,  since you shot him.   you see where i’m going with this?   ’

     “so what i’m hearing is whoever you assigned to be his handler is not very good at their job and should probably take a pay cut.” really, he was failing to see how any of this was his problem. “because if he was a good handler, he would have heard ‘gotham’ and warned your uc guy that the place is full of vigilantes who don’t take kindly to drug lords.” none of the bats really did, but he’d be lying if he said that the red hood wasn’t a little notorious for being particularly unkind to drug traffickers.

     “oi, i shot him clean through the shoulder, he’ll heal fine and with a gnarly scar. what more could you possibly want?” if she was waiting for an apology, she’d be waiting a damn long time--everyone knew that undercover work came with risks, and sometimes those risks involved bullets through the shoulder. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Todd.” He replied and crossed his arms. “I’ve had a growth spurt. You should update your information.”