More often than not, yes. You shoot a guy in the fucking head and they stay down. This isn't about staying dead. Do you know what they all had to go through to bring us back? It's not that simple.
[Jason snaps, frustrated more at the situation, but also at Damian's naivete. There's clearly more at work here than that, especially when it comes to someone who can alter memories. What they need to be looking for is clues, not arguing about life and death. So Jason does exactly that, trying to find the remains of anything they can work with.
The only thing that's left to do is to take blood samples, because even though there's no body, there is a trail of blood and Jason doubts this is a first offense. There must be something on this guy, even if they have to comb through dozens of files till he can recognize someone. He remembers the face- he hopes that's the face. There couldn't have been enough time for this person to re-configure multiple things in his head, could there? It was only a tenth of a second between the pressure in his head and the gunshot.
When Damian starts kicking things, Jason gets up and goes over to him, grabbing his arm. He understands the feeling of needing to lash out. He wants to do so as well, but at least one of them has to stay level headed and he doubts Damian's wound is going to hold out much longer at this rate]
That isn't going to help. We have a few more things to work with than before we got here. We can ID the rest of the men and see what they're connected to. I doubt they covered their tracks very well. I was hoping for more, same as you, but this is what we have right now. We'll figure it out.
( it's an instinctual sort of lashing out — jason's fingers encircle his arm and damian is whirling all too quickly, all too angrily, and planting the palm of his other hand directly in jason's solar plexus. it could have been a vicious attempt to break ribs, a crippling blow, or at least enough to knock the air from his lungs. but at the last moment, seemingly remembering they're on the same side and loving him no more for it, damian pulls his punch. it's just a raw and angry shove, another futile expression of distress, like assaulting the trash bags.
todd is speaking sense (surprisingly?) and he absolutely hates it, all consumed with the overwhelming frustration of those who feel lost and incompetent, helpless. ) Let go of me. ( and that fire in his eyes speaks to all sorts of recklessness. damian shoves at him again, then wrenches his arm from jason's grip and tracks backward, definitely not stumbling — or at least partially covering for his weak knees with a firm set in his jaw and the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
it takes a minute, and a ridiculous amount of self control to reign himself in; to not hurl a piece of discarded rebar at jason's head, or turn and rush into the darkness, chasing shadows instead of leads. it takes summoning virtually all of his training for crisis management because. well, this was batman. his father, who didn't know who he was and might never remember unless they found answers, solutions. and damian's already lived though bruce's amnesia once, there's no distraction to be found this time in undoing his work on the year of blood, so where did that leave him? with one more growl, he drags a gloved palm down his face. and with no conviction, echoes jason's words. )
We'll figure it out.
( the sirens in the distance are growing louder. he can see the faint flashes of blue and red in the distance over the red hood's shoulder, and decides in that instant he doesn't want to explain the situation to jim gordon and his lackeys. they should know, they would know soon, but not before he had something more to bring to the table other than batman's incapacitated but don't worry, i've teamed up with a notorious criminal outlaw and we're going to go fight a magician who can't die. for now he jerks his chin. )
[ Jason is ready for any kind of lashing out that Damian hits him with- his feelings are the same, growing with every moment that goes by, but it won't be good for either of them if they both let their feelings overwhelm the situation. Jason stays put, not even swaying a bit and he's pretty sure all that movement ends up hurting Damian more than it hurts him, what with the kid's bleeding wound.
He lets go of Damian before he can even wrench his arm free, and eyes him to make sure he stays steady on his feet before he goes back over the scene to make sure they haven't missed anything. He's deep in his thoughts, wondering just how much this witch, or whatever the hell it was, took from him as well- even in just that brief second. He's trying not to think further than the task at hand just yet, trying not to think about Bruce's amnesia, but the knot in his throat is getting worse and worse.
All he can do is try to keep Damian calm, and he isn't really doing a great job at that either. ]
I already finished while you were kicking things. We have everything we can get for now. You're bleeding again. Try not to get any on the ground before we get back to the batmobile.
[He moves back toward Damian, but doesn't take hold of him this time. Still he urges them forward, back toward where they came from so they can leave. Damian seems more out of it than Jason would like. Or maybe he just expected the kid to work with him on this more than he has, considering they're both trying to get the same results.Either way, he stalks back to the car, staying silent after that. ]
I know how to evacuate a crime scene without leaving trace DNA evidence, ( damian snaps, but it's mostly bravado; a strain of leftover vehemence and persistent anger, even as the last traces of adrenaline finally start to ebb. fight or flight becomes rather cooperatively allow yourself to be herd back to the car without throwing anymore punches, and they wind their way through massive mountains of trash to the side entrance. the batmobile is exactly where they left it, and damian is more relieved than he lets on to throw open the door and practically fall into the passenger seat.
he's tired, beyond tired. exhausted and aching, and still kicking himself for seemingly having run away from the fight. even if it wouldn't have done any good, even if he'd be in a worsened state of amnesia, or maybe died right alongside his father without having had the opportunity to call the red hood, the act still feels sickeningly cowardly. running out wounded had done nothing to alleviate the sting of it either, and then coming up fruitless for their attempts? maybe jason was right, the information from the wallets and the blood samples may yield some lead or another, and they could track the witch to the ends of the earth if need be. but right now, faced with the inevitability of returning to the cave, to the father who didn't remember he failed him, that possibility wasn't much comfort. it was hard, seeing past the bleak present.
once they're driving again, damian takes special care not to aggravate his wound when peeling the hem of his uniform back, inspecting the raw gash that had indeed started to ooze dark blood. the celox had done it's job and then seemed to go on to aggravate the skin around the stab wound into angry, red protest, but he wasn't in any danger of bleeding out spectacularly. and the batmobile is well stocked for medical emergencies, so he rifles through the glovebox for gauze; presses a makeshift bandage to his stomach and stares out the window for a time — like perhaps if he glared extra hard at the stars that managed to make it through gotham's light pollution, he'd find the answers he was looking for. )
Maybe if you were paying more attention, that would be true. If you know it, then do it and stop throwing a tantrum.
[Jason snaps right back. He's about at the end of his patience, frustration taking over. He shouldn't have even been here today. He didn't have to come, but he did and now he's in the middle of this mess with an insufferable little brat that Jason is doing nothing more than trying to take care of while dealing with the situation at hand. He really hates all of them.
Once they're in the car, Jason tosses the rest of the gauze he brought at Damian before he takes off away from the sirens, heading back in a different direction. He wants to go back there even less than Damian does, but he doesn't have the luxury of airing his grievances the way Damian does. Not that he cares. He lets Alfred know they're heading back, and he already gets an earful, but he also gets an update on Bruce's status. Stable for now, and probably out of it for a while. He doesn't say anything about that, just stares ahead as he drives, glad that he has a helmet which covers his entire face. He doesn't want to be seen right now.
When they get back to the cave, he goes around to the passengers side so he can help Damian out, but he stops short, thinking better of it, and lets Alfred handle Damian instead, who Jason is sure Damian won't attack on sight. He has better things to do anyway and gets to work at the computers, sitting in Bruce's chair without a second thought, looking up fingerprints, date files and blood samples. He immerses himself in this completely, trying to find evidence, while compiling a hit list of everyone who is going to pay for what they did here tonight]
( that is ultimately a good move, a smart move. the entire mismatched family unit could be at each other's throats, seething and teetering on the edge of bloodlust, and alfred would be able to bring them back to themselves with a few flat words and a set of teacups. given the penchant for disagreements and arguments among the bats, he is arguably the only person they all like at any given time. and it seems he saved the brunt of his chastisement for jason, because when damian struggles out of the car, there's barely even a disapproving sniff. just a warm hand on his shoulder, careful and ready to catch him if he falls, but content to guide him for now. and damian allows himself to be steered back over to the medical corner, shoulders back and head high to face his anxieties head on.
his father is sleeping, though it is likely medically induced. in repose, he looks almost peaceful, and covered with a thick blanket, one could almost overlook the obvious signs of torment and injury. there's a bruise slowly coloring across the bridge of his nose, down under an eye; damian suspects it will be an ugly purple color by morning, and clenches his fists tight when the impulse to reach out and trace it rises in his throat. pennyworth attempts to direct him to his own sterile cot a few feet away, but damian digs in his heels, insists on occupying the chair to the left of bruce's bed, and alfred relents so long as he promises to rest.
it isn't easy with all the swirling questions and frustrations, but exhaustion eventually wins out. he doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he wakes it's with a heavy throw blanket draped up to his chin and a cup of water on the bedstand between his seat and his father. at some point pennyworth had removed his domino mask as well, which saved damian the trouble of doing it himself in order to rub his palms into his eyes to clear them of sleep. it hurts too much to stretch too far, but he lifts his arms and yawns spectacularly before blinking his eyes open to find bruce's gaze fixed on him. it puts his heart in his throat, and his mouth is immediately dry.
do you know me? damian eventually asks, even and devoid of any of the conflicting emotions that still undoubtedly play behind his eyes. those who knew him best would be able to read the distress on his face in the long seconds it takes bruce to answer, but his father just looked... confused.
no? batman responds, gruff from sleep and lited up at the end, a question without any real conviction behind it; more uncertainty than he'd ever heard from the man in his life, and damian's stomach turns to stone. he sits for another extended moment, grappling with that same frustration that had led him to kick garbage bags and shout at the red hood before pushing back his blanket. standing, a careful hand pressed to his stomach.
very well, he nods. he can feel more than hear pennyworth approaching behind him, likely with food or another round of medical supplies, and uses the butler's presence so as to not feel guilty for turning and abandoning both the conversation and the confused man on the cot. something stings behind his eyes, but it isn't tears.
he finds jason at the batcomputer, immersed completely in his work and looking very much like drake with that air of concentration around his features. it can't have been long then, if the man was still here and still looking for information, maybe an hour, two at most. damian dawdles for a few minutes, staring up at the screen and taking note of the witch's lackeys mug shots and rapsheets — the man with the family picture was a serial domestic abuser. his daughter really was better off — before drawing level with todd's elbow. )
[ Jason tosses his helmet aside, rips his mask off and leaves it all in a pile on the floor next to the chair, along with his jacket. He's immersed, finding every detail he possibly can about these people, what organizations they've been affiliated with, and any new factions of magic and witches, memory loss and mind reading that he can possibly find. He barely hears what's going on around him, though he's vaguely aware of some minor and strained conversation.
He doesn't look away from his work. He doesn't want to see any of it. He's better at this part anyway. Detached and working alone, while a hundred emotions threaten to jarr his insides loose. Jason doesn't have time for it and working at the batcomputer distracts him well enough. If he had this set up for himself? He could get so much more done in this city. He has his own, of course, almost as good, but nothing will ever be as good as Batman- Jason knows he tries hard enough, though.
He knows when Damian comes over- it's more than a couple of hours later. Jason hears him before the kid is even at his side, but he doesn't stop, having compiled a great deal of leads they can start out with. He's pretty sure it all leads back to the same place, and the results he's found are worse than he could have imagined.
Damian's question finally pulls him away from the screens and he looks over at him, furrowing his eyebrows. ]
I've found just about everything on them, if that's what you mean. The man I shot, his name is Bartholomew Heart. He has dozens of men and women following him- a cult or something. You're right, he's some kind of witch, some kind of siphon. It was no mistake that he went right for you and Bruce. They supposedly worship the Bat and want to become him. Heart claims that he can be him.
[Jason pulls up a bunch of photographs, videos every time Batman was caught in some photos, paparazzi, video screenshots. Heart is in all of them, in the background]
This wasn't a one time thing. You've run into him before and he's gotten better and better at finding you. I think those memories he's taken... he's keeping them somehow. He's turning himself into Batman. Stealing memories and making them his own.
So yeah, that's all I've found.
[Jason looks away from Damian, back at the screen and then he squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows this still doesn't explain how they can get their memories back and he lets out a strangled yell, slamming his finst down on the consol before dropping his head into his hand]
( well — that’s considerably more than he’d originally gleaned from a glassy eyed sweep of the computer screen. damian blinks, any vestiges of sleep long gone by the sudden revelation. it’s invigorating, having a lead; like sinking teeth into flesh and finally having the vantage to read back and rip the mystery at the seams. damian spares jason a side long glance, and he’d be surprised — it’s easy to forget in the face of all that anger and the man’s loud rebellion against batman and his code, that he’d been as great a detective as he was a renegade; still was apparently — if he wasn’t so suddenly sickened by the information. a cult, a fanatic, a stalker. those three thing never mixed together well.
jason yells wordlessly, but damian barely bats an eye. he isn’t dick, not tim, nor jason apparently; he isn’t the type to reign in his brothers, doesn’t scold or comfort or put a hand on jason’s shoulder in a silent show of commiserations. no, he simply reaches around the man for the computer mouse, drags the curser to one of the many video feeds and presses play. it’s one of the rare times batman and robin had been caught on camera intervening in the very public assassination attempt of the mayor of gotham, michael bean. the man had retired shortly after the fiasco with harvey dent and the rooftop guillotine spectacle, and that had been nearly a year ago. the fight had carried two face and batman down to street level while damian has been in charge of unshackling bean and getting him to safety, and the ensuing fist fight had been well documented by reporters and concerned civilians with camera phones. he remembered that night, though nothing particular about the crowd. the most interesting part comes after dent is shackled and loaded into a van for transport to arkham, when a pretty dark haired reporter’d had the nerves to approach batman and shove a microphone in his face, asking rapid fire questions about the events on the roof and his justifications for going above the law.
bruce gives some gravelly rendition of his justice and i will always protect gotham mantra, and raises his grappling gun to fly back up onto the rooftops as the reporter screams one last question after him: why a bat?
huh.
damian purses his lips; pauses, and rewinds the clip. he spots the man jason had identified as the witch in the crowd easily enough, squints at the unfocused distortion of his face and watches again. then again. bartholomew heart’s mouth is moving, and he’s clutching his hand over his chest. damian sets the five second clip to loop, mutes the overlay of audio, and zooms in as much as he can without pixelating the image, and leans even closer to the screen to better read his lips. )
My heart and soul, ( he eventually parses, brow furrowed. that didn’t sound like any sort of magical incantation, more like the crazed ramblings of an obsessive lunatic. an obsessive lunatic with supernatural powers, looks like the joker has some competition. it doesn’t help his understanding of the man’s ploy so much as raises a series of goosebumps along his arms and sends a shiver down his spine and cements jason’s findings. it’s a start, it’s a name and a face to chase, but...
damian tried to use the face of the man on the screen to fill in the blanks, jar his own erased memories back to conscious thought, and finds he can’t. but this time, instead of being infuriation and hitting the control panel like todd had done, he’s reeled backward into quiet introspection. )
If your hypothesis is correct, and Heart is seeking to impersonate Batman by stealing his memories, what use did he have for mine?
[It's almost as if... they have some kind of good sympatico going on. Neither of them need comfort in the form of reassurance or scolding or comfort, but somehow they've found this way of staying calm when the other lashes out and vice versa. And they just let it happen, then fall right back into what needs to be done.
So Jason simmers for a while longer, while Damian reaches around and continues to look things up and follow along with the work Jason has put in. Detective work is what they're trained to do, and Jason is damn good at it when he puts his mind to it. It's worth more than his anger right now.
Eventually he looks up, right at that man's face, watching him mouth those words. It's eerie. It feels like the words can get into his head, but he knows he's just too tired. He's betting though, that any video they can dig up in the past year that might've caught Batman and Robin, Heart will be there. Maybe that's why Bruce is so depleted. This lunatic has been working on him for a while, without any of their knowledge. There's no way they could have known. ]
Because you're his son. You're a part of him- his life. He has to fill in the gaps. If a person sees Batman... hell, if a person sees Bruce, they wouldn't have the faintest idea about us. They'd have to dig.
[Which then has him thinking, pulling up what he can find on Tim and Dick, Babs, anyone else who is close to Bruce. He leaves himself out for now.]
I bet that Heart will show up in some of their files as well, somewhere in the background. Or maybe he doesn't know yet, but we have to warn them. [He looks at Damian] There are probably more gaps in your memory. Things you don't even know about because... they're just not there.
( the fact that heart had managed to get close enough to Bruce and himself to meddle with their minds — perhaps more than just tonight, maybe before and neither of them could remember enough to combat the zealot, thanks for that complex jason— was enough to rankle every fiber in Damian’s being. and the very idea that he’s similarly pursued the other members of their rag tag family has him outright growling. stephanie, cassandra, tim... on a normal day he could care less for any of them. but if the psychotic magician was on a mission to absorb facts from batman’s actual child as a means to get closer to perfecting his facade, what was stopping him from going after all his other wards and protégées too?
absolutely nothing. and Damian further prickles with a somewhat unfamiliar level of possessive defensiveness. )
I will alert Grayson, Cain, and Gordon, ( he volunteers, divvying up the work before moving further down the console and sending direct, encrypted alerts to his chosen three. )
[ Jason feels those exact sentiments and it shows on his face just as much as Damian's. On a normal day he tries not to think about his cobbled together family at all, but now, he knows they're all pieces to this puzzle and they could be in danger. This could unravel all of them. Everything.
To be completely honest, he doesn't know just how much was stolen from him either. If Heart has been at it for this long, Jason might've come into contact with him before this and just doesn't remember. There's something horribly monstrous about this. More so than most things he's ever come up against. He's still angry at himself for letting the man get away. ]
I'll alert... the rest of them. [Jason knows most of who Bruce has had close contact with, but he wonders if this should be a wider alert. He wonders if they should alert Clark... the Justice League. He'd rather shoot his own foot, but if memories are being stolen, this could get out of their hands really fast. It already feels like it has, with Batman down and out]
I'm going to tell Superman. We don't even know how long Bruce is going to be out.
( he's halfway through tapping out the encrypted mass alert when jason voices aloud the very question that has been eating at damian since the whole memory-loss-my-father-doesn't-remember-me deal had come to light. how long would this go on, when would bruce regain his memories? would he ever? if not, wouldn't that just be a cruel twist of fate, it felt like not all that long ago they'd almost lost him to civilian life. and then — selfishly — damian wonders, where would that leave me? there was no year of blood to occupy his time and need to self-punish. would grayson return to the mantle of batman yet again? would they be able to defeat heart themselves?
hand stilled above the keyboard for all of a moment, heart hammering and mind racing — until the swell of panic is clamped down under the firm air of duty. damian finishes typing the essential details, broadcasts the message, and abruptly turns on his heel and marches towards the stairway. conceals himself in the dark recesses of the manor in early morning, remains relatively unseen for two whole days, very little of which is spent sleeping, resting, or recovering as prescribed. no, damian retreats into his own mind first — layers guilt over anger over concern, attempt to replay the blank spots in his memory over and over until something can be remembered, but always coming up blank. then he throws himself into research, wires all prevalent casefiles from the bat computers mainframe to his own computer and spends hours pouring over video files, bland news clippings, and any other shred of evidence that might lead the investigation somewhere, anywhere.
the wound in his side heals at a miraculous rate, even dodging alfred's regular checkups, but is still tender and sore and weeping hemoglobin into gauze the next time their worlds convene. damian doesn't look up from his laptop, firmly tucked away in the back half of one of the manors larger libraries, but well aware of approaching footsteps and the familiar gait. he wonders briefly if jason had even left — gone home, showered, changed — and tells himself he wouldn't have been surprised in the red hood had returned the to slums indefinitely, content to wait out this storm and watch the dynamic duo fall.
damian may know better, but this is what he tells himself. )
I've found nothing new of note, ( he eventually deigns to say aloud, dragging a finger on the trackpad to enhance yet another security camera still of a patrol scuffle a few months ago because the shadow at the edge of the background building looked suspicious. damian's voice is slightly scratchy from disuse, and the second he glances just over the top of his laptop by way of greeting, his eyes feel dry and heavy; the bags beneath them pronounced but nowhere near as alarming as drake's could get after an in-depth evidence binge. they could use his expertise, damian can begrudgingly acknowledge. ) Heart keeps cropping up in the shadows, I don't understand how we never noticed him before. And I may have identified a few more of his henchmen, one or two who seem intent on recruiting more to their cause. They'd made several nonsensical social media posts and seem generally unhinged, as well as none too big on security and secrecy. Perhaps we can press them for more information.
( and yes, he fully intends to break bones if that's what it takes during this process and fully expects jason to not so much as sniff disapprovingly in his direction. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-27 09:00 pm (UTC)[Jason snaps, frustrated more at the situation, but also at Damian's naivete. There's clearly more at work here than that, especially when it comes to someone who can alter memories. What they need to be looking for is clues, not arguing about life and death. So Jason does exactly that, trying to find the remains of anything they can work with.
The only thing that's left to do is to take blood samples, because even though there's no body, there is a trail of blood and Jason doubts this is a first offense. There must be something on this guy, even if they have to comb through dozens of files till he can recognize someone. He remembers the face- he hopes that's the face. There couldn't have been enough time for this person to re-configure multiple things in his head, could there? It was only a tenth of a second between the pressure in his head and the gunshot.
When Damian starts kicking things, Jason gets up and goes over to him, grabbing his arm. He understands the feeling of needing to lash out. He wants to do so as well, but at least one of them has to stay level headed and he doubts Damian's wound is going to hold out much longer at this rate]
That isn't going to help. We have a few more things to work with than before we got here. We can ID the rest of the men and see what they're connected to. I doubt they covered their tracks very well. I was hoping for more, same as you, but this is what we have right now. We'll figure it out.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 12:05 am (UTC)todd is speaking sense (surprisingly?) and he absolutely hates it, all consumed with the overwhelming frustration of those who feel lost and incompetent, helpless. ) Let go of me. ( and that fire in his eyes speaks to all sorts of recklessness. damian shoves at him again, then wrenches his arm from jason's grip and tracks backward, definitely not stumbling — or at least partially covering for his weak knees with a firm set in his jaw and the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
it takes a minute, and a ridiculous amount of self control to reign himself in; to not hurl a piece of discarded rebar at jason's head, or turn and rush into the darkness, chasing shadows instead of leads. it takes summoning virtually all of his training for crisis management because. well, this was batman. his father, who didn't know who he was and might never remember unless they found answers, solutions. and damian's already lived though bruce's amnesia once, there's no distraction to be found this time in undoing his work on the year of blood, so where did that leave him? with one more growl, he drags a gloved palm down his face. and with no conviction, echoes jason's words. )
We'll figure it out.
( the sirens in the distance are growing louder. he can see the faint flashes of blue and red in the distance over the red hood's shoulder, and decides in that instant he doesn't want to explain the situation to jim gordon and his lackeys. they should know, they would know soon, but not before he had something more to bring to the table other than batman's incapacitated but don't worry, i've teamed up with a notorious criminal outlaw and we're going to go fight a magician who can't die. for now he jerks his chin. )
Finish collecting your samples. We need to leave.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 09:17 am (UTC)He lets go of Damian before he can even wrench his arm free, and eyes him to make sure he stays steady on his feet before he goes back over the scene to make sure they haven't missed anything. He's deep in his thoughts, wondering just how much this witch, or whatever the hell it was, took from him as well- even in just that brief second. He's trying not to think further than the task at hand just yet, trying not to think about Bruce's amnesia, but the knot in his throat is getting worse and worse.
All he can do is try to keep Damian calm, and he isn't really doing a great job at that either. ]
I already finished while you were kicking things. We have everything we can get for now. You're bleeding again. Try not to get any on the ground before we get back to the batmobile.
[He moves back toward Damian, but doesn't take hold of him this time. Still he urges them forward, back toward where they came from so they can leave. Damian seems more out of it than Jason would like. Or maybe he just expected the kid to work with him on this more than he has, considering they're both trying to get the same results.Either way, he stalks back to the car, staying silent after that. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 09:30 am (UTC)he's tired, beyond tired. exhausted and aching, and still kicking himself for seemingly having run away from the fight. even if it wouldn't have done any good, even if he'd be in a worsened state of amnesia, or maybe died right alongside his father without having had the opportunity to call the red hood, the act still feels sickeningly cowardly. running out wounded had done nothing to alleviate the sting of it either, and then coming up fruitless for their attempts? maybe jason was right, the information from the wallets and the blood samples may yield some lead or another, and they could track the witch to the ends of the earth if need be. but right now, faced with the inevitability of returning to the cave, to the father who didn't remember he failed him, that possibility wasn't much comfort. it was hard, seeing past the bleak present.
once they're driving again, damian takes special care not to aggravate his wound when peeling the hem of his uniform back, inspecting the raw gash that had indeed started to ooze dark blood. the celox had done it's job and then seemed to go on to aggravate the skin around the stab wound into angry, red protest, but he wasn't in any danger of bleeding out spectacularly. and the batmobile is well stocked for medical emergencies, so he rifles through the glovebox for gauze; presses a makeshift bandage to his stomach and stares out the window for a time — like perhaps if he glared extra hard at the stars that managed to make it through gotham's light pollution, he'd find the answers he was looking for. )
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 09:50 am (UTC)[Jason snaps right back. He's about at the end of his patience, frustration taking over. He shouldn't have even been here today. He didn't have to come, but he did and now he's in the middle of this mess with an insufferable little brat that Jason is doing nothing more than trying to take care of while dealing with the situation at hand. He really hates all of them.
Once they're in the car, Jason tosses the rest of the gauze he brought at Damian before he takes off away from the sirens, heading back in a different direction. He wants to go back there even less than Damian does, but he doesn't have the luxury of airing his grievances the way Damian does. Not that he cares. He lets Alfred know they're heading back, and he already gets an earful, but he also gets an update on Bruce's status. Stable for now, and probably out of it for a while. He doesn't say anything about that, just stares ahead as he drives, glad that he has a helmet which covers his entire face. He doesn't want to be seen right now.
When they get back to the cave, he goes around to the passengers side so he can help Damian out, but he stops short, thinking better of it, and lets Alfred handle Damian instead, who Jason is sure Damian won't attack on sight. He has better things to do anyway and gets to work at the computers, sitting in Bruce's chair without a second thought, looking up fingerprints, date files and blood samples. He immerses himself in this completely, trying to find evidence, while compiling a hit list of everyone who is going to pay for what they did here tonight]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 10:11 am (UTC)his father is sleeping, though it is likely medically induced. in repose, he looks almost peaceful, and covered with a thick blanket, one could almost overlook the obvious signs of torment and injury. there's a bruise slowly coloring across the bridge of his nose, down under an eye; damian suspects it will be an ugly purple color by morning, and clenches his fists tight when the impulse to reach out and trace it rises in his throat. pennyworth attempts to direct him to his own sterile cot a few feet away, but damian digs in his heels, insists on occupying the chair to the left of bruce's bed, and alfred relents so long as he promises to rest.
it isn't easy with all the swirling questions and frustrations, but exhaustion eventually wins out. he doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he wakes it's with a heavy throw blanket draped up to his chin and a cup of water on the bedstand between his seat and his father. at some point pennyworth had removed his domino mask as well, which saved damian the trouble of doing it himself in order to rub his palms into his eyes to clear them of sleep. it hurts too much to stretch too far, but he lifts his arms and yawns spectacularly before blinking his eyes open to find bruce's gaze fixed on him. it puts his heart in his throat, and his mouth is immediately dry.
do you know me? damian eventually asks, even and devoid of any of the conflicting emotions that still undoubtedly play behind his eyes. those who knew him best would be able to read the distress on his face in the long seconds it takes bruce to answer, but his father just looked... confused.
no? batman responds, gruff from sleep and lited up at the end, a question without any real conviction behind it; more uncertainty than he'd ever heard from the man in his life, and damian's stomach turns to stone. he sits for another extended moment, grappling with that same frustration that had led him to kick garbage bags and shout at the red hood before pushing back his blanket. standing, a careful hand pressed to his stomach.
very well, he nods. he can feel more than hear pennyworth approaching behind him, likely with food or another round of medical supplies, and uses the butler's presence so as to not feel guilty for turning and abandoning both the conversation and the confused man on the cot. something stings behind his eyes, but it isn't tears.
he finds jason at the batcomputer, immersed completely in his work and looking very much like drake with that air of concentration around his features. it can't have been long then, if the man was still here and still looking for information, maybe an hour, two at most. damian dawdles for a few minutes, staring up at the screen and taking note of the witch's lackeys mug shots and rapsheets — the man with the family picture was a serial domestic abuser. his daughter really was better off — before drawing level with todd's elbow. )
Is this all you've found?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 10:36 am (UTC)He doesn't look away from his work. He doesn't want to see any of it. He's better at this part anyway. Detached and working alone, while a hundred emotions threaten to jarr his insides loose. Jason doesn't have time for it and working at the batcomputer distracts him well enough. If he had this set up for himself? He could get so much more done in this city. He has his own, of course, almost as good, but nothing will ever be as good as Batman- Jason knows he tries hard enough, though.
He knows when Damian comes over- it's more than a couple of hours later. Jason hears him before the kid is even at his side, but he doesn't stop, having compiled a great deal of leads they can start out with. He's pretty sure it all leads back to the same place, and the results he's found are worse than he could have imagined.
Damian's question finally pulls him away from the screens and he looks over at him, furrowing his eyebrows. ]
I've found just about everything on them, if that's what you mean. The man I shot, his name is Bartholomew Heart. He has dozens of men and women following him- a cult or something. You're right, he's some kind of witch, some kind of siphon. It was no mistake that he went right for you and Bruce. They supposedly worship the Bat and want to become him. Heart claims that he can be him.
[Jason pulls up a bunch of photographs, videos every time Batman was caught in some photos, paparazzi, video screenshots. Heart is in all of them, in the background]
This wasn't a one time thing. You've run into him before and he's gotten better and better at finding you. I think those memories he's taken... he's keeping them somehow. He's turning himself into Batman. Stealing memories and making them his own.
So yeah, that's all I've found.
[Jason looks away from Damian, back at the screen and then he squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows this still doesn't explain how they can get their memories back and he lets out a strangled yell, slamming his finst down on the consol before dropping his head into his hand]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 11:11 am (UTC)jason yells wordlessly, but damian barely bats an eye. he isn’t dick, not tim, nor jason apparently; he isn’t the type to reign in his brothers, doesn’t scold or comfort or put a hand on jason’s shoulder in a silent show of commiserations. no, he simply reaches around the man for the computer mouse, drags the curser to one of the many video feeds and presses play. it’s one of the rare times batman and robin had been caught on camera intervening in the very public assassination attempt of the mayor of gotham, michael bean. the man had retired shortly after the fiasco with harvey dent and the rooftop guillotine spectacle, and that had been nearly a year ago. the fight had carried two face and batman down to street level while damian has been in charge of unshackling bean and getting him to safety, and the ensuing fist fight had been well documented by reporters and concerned civilians with camera phones. he remembered that night, though nothing particular about the crowd. the most interesting part comes after dent is shackled and loaded into a van for transport to arkham, when a pretty dark haired reporter’d had the nerves to approach batman and shove a microphone in his face, asking rapid fire questions about the events on the roof and his justifications for going above the law.
bruce gives some gravelly rendition of his justice and i will always protect gotham mantra, and raises his grappling gun to fly back up onto the rooftops as the reporter screams one last question after him: why a bat?
huh.
damian purses his lips; pauses, and rewinds the clip. he spots the man jason had identified as the witch in the crowd easily enough, squints at the unfocused distortion of his face and watches again. then again. bartholomew heart’s mouth is moving, and he’s clutching his hand over his chest. damian sets the five second clip to loop, mutes the overlay of audio, and zooms in as much as he can without pixelating the image, and leans even closer to the screen to better read his lips. )
My heart and soul, ( he eventually parses, brow furrowed. that didn’t sound like any sort of magical incantation, more like the crazed ramblings of an obsessive lunatic. an obsessive lunatic with supernatural powers, looks like the joker has some competition. it doesn’t help his understanding of the man’s ploy so much as raises a series of goosebumps along his arms and sends a shiver down his spine and cements jason’s findings. it’s a start, it’s a name and a face to chase, but...
damian tried to use the face of the man on the screen to fill in the blanks, jar his own erased memories back to conscious thought, and finds he can’t. but this time, instead of being infuriation and hitting the control panel like todd had done, he’s reeled backward into quiet introspection. )
If your hypothesis is correct, and Heart is seeking to impersonate Batman by stealing his memories, what use did he have for mine?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-31 11:42 am (UTC)So Jason simmers for a while longer, while Damian reaches around and continues to look things up and follow along with the work Jason has put in. Detective work is what they're trained to do, and Jason is damn good at it when he puts his mind to it. It's worth more than his anger right now.
Eventually he looks up, right at that man's face, watching him mouth those words. It's eerie. It feels like the words can get into his head, but he knows he's just too tired. He's betting though, that any video they can dig up in the past year that might've caught Batman and Robin, Heart will be there. Maybe that's why Bruce is so depleted. This lunatic has been working on him for a while, without any of their knowledge. There's no way they could have known. ]
Because you're his son. You're a part of him- his life. He has to fill in the gaps. If a person sees Batman... hell, if a person sees Bruce, they wouldn't have the faintest idea about us. They'd have to dig.
[Which then has him thinking, pulling up what he can find on Tim and Dick, Babs, anyone else who is close to Bruce. He leaves himself out for now.]
I bet that Heart will show up in some of their files as well, somewhere in the background. Or maybe he doesn't know yet, but we have to warn them. [He looks at Damian] There are probably more gaps in your memory. Things you don't even know about because... they're just not there.
#crapphonetags ❤️❤️
Date: 2018-02-12 05:19 pm (UTC)absolutely nothing. and Damian further prickles with a somewhat unfamiliar level of possessive defensiveness. )
I will alert Grayson, Cain, and Gordon, ( he volunteers, divvying up the work before moving further down the console and sending direct, encrypted alerts to his chosen three. )
❤️
Date: 2018-02-12 06:56 pm (UTC)To be completely honest, he doesn't know just how much was stolen from him either. If Heart has been at it for this long, Jason might've come into contact with him before this and just doesn't remember. There's something horribly monstrous about this. More so than most things he's ever come up against. He's still angry at himself for letting the man get away. ]
I'll alert... the rest of them. [Jason knows most of who Bruce has had close contact with, but he wonders if this should be a wider alert. He wonders if they should alert Clark... the Justice League. He'd rather shoot his own foot, but if memories are being stolen, this could get out of their hands really fast. It already feels like it has, with Batman down and out]
I'm going to tell Superman. We don't even know how long Bruce is going to be out.
breathes life into this
Date: 2018-05-09 08:22 am (UTC)hand stilled above the keyboard for all of a moment, heart hammering and mind racing — until the swell of panic is clamped down under the firm air of duty. damian finishes typing the essential details, broadcasts the message, and abruptly turns on his heel and marches towards the stairway. conceals himself in the dark recesses of the manor in early morning, remains relatively unseen for two whole days, very little of which is spent sleeping, resting, or recovering as prescribed. no, damian retreats into his own mind first — layers guilt over anger over concern, attempt to replay the blank spots in his memory over and over until something can be remembered, but always coming up blank. then he throws himself into research, wires all prevalent casefiles from the bat computers mainframe to his own computer and spends hours pouring over video files, bland news clippings, and any other shred of evidence that might lead the investigation somewhere, anywhere.
the wound in his side heals at a miraculous rate, even dodging alfred's regular checkups, but is still tender and sore and weeping hemoglobin into gauze the next time their worlds convene. damian doesn't look up from his laptop, firmly tucked away in the back half of one of the manors larger libraries, but well aware of approaching footsteps and the familiar gait. he wonders briefly if jason had even left — gone home, showered, changed — and tells himself he wouldn't have been surprised in the red hood had returned the to slums indefinitely, content to wait out this storm and watch the dynamic duo fall.
damian may know better, but this is what he tells himself. )
I've found nothing new of note, ( he eventually deigns to say aloud, dragging a finger on the trackpad to enhance yet another security camera still of a patrol scuffle a few months ago because the shadow at the edge of the background building looked suspicious. damian's voice is slightly scratchy from disuse, and the second he glances just over the top of his laptop by way of greeting, his eyes feel dry and heavy; the bags beneath them pronounced but nowhere near as alarming as drake's could get after an in-depth evidence binge. they could use his expertise, damian can begrudgingly acknowledge. ) Heart keeps cropping up in the shadows, I don't understand how we never noticed him before. And I may have identified a few more of his henchmen, one or two who seem intent on recruiting more to their cause. They'd made several nonsensical social media posts and seem generally unhinged, as well as none too big on security and secrecy. Perhaps we can press them for more information.
( and yes, he fully intends to break bones if that's what it takes during this process and fully expects jason to not so much as sniff disapprovingly in his direction. )