queenslayerbee | several sentences sunday (Reply)

Last week I decided I'd make this A Thing over tumblr, since I get tagged in a lot of these WIP games. I didn't post last week's excerpt on dreamwidth last Sunday, so I'll post that one and today's now.

The first one is a little Jaytim excerpt set in what I call my "Bruce is DEAD dead" WIP. Technically an AU of Battle for the Cowl (in part), but we don't talk about BFTC in this house xD

Denial had become familiar; a shroud to wrap around himself to keep warm in the cold that permeated the city when Bruce took on Darkseid. Tim still clung to it with increasing desperation as his eyes remained stuck in the scarred slash of Jason’s neck. The other man’s weight kept him pinned against the wall, Tim’s focus turning him crossed-eyed.

The placement alone was dangerous, and it’d been obvious even to the untrained observant that it had not been a superficial wound. Batman would never risk such an injury. Not in his right mind.

Those were all truths, and Jason was a liar. He had to be, because the most fundamental truth of all, the one which Tim had known intimately ever since he set foot on the cave and breathed the charged atmosphere around Robin’s memorial–

“Bruce… loves you…” he struggled to say.

Tim felt the sharp tip of Jason’s batarang carve into his neck; it followed the exact path in Jason’s skin that had kept Tim entranced. It was a shallow cut, but Tim’s breath caught in his throat, thinking about how the slightest slip…

“Does this feel like love to you, Robin?” Jason whispered in his ear.

This other one, which needs a bit more context, is born out of a conversation with a discord mutual, about Jaymia in a Dollhouse AU*. Or in this case, more of a fusion/not-really-an-AU, where I'd integrate the concept of dollhouses into the DC universe (new earth edition, as always). Before the day was over I already had this whole story outlined in my head LMAO.

*for the uninitiated, Dollhouse was a sci-fi show about a shady underground corporation whose business consisted on supplying "actives" or "dolls": people who'd "consented" (ymmv) to have their memories removed for a few years, while the Dollhouse would implant them with temporary personalities and skills as per their wealthy clients request. It's one of my favourite shows ever. Ahead of its time, if you ask me.

The premise is that Mia was a young former active, with her contract getting terminated early (because she got HIV and the dollhouse is liable for it), who is determined to bring them down. Jason, in the meantime, is still an active; one the Dollhouse has sent to keep an eye on Mia, suspecting her plans. This excerpt is something I thought about for after Jason recovered (allegedly not all...) his memories.

Mia had the misfortune of meeting a higher than average number of scummy politicians, and yet in that moment Batman uttered the most hypocritical sentence she'd ever heard.

"I find that suspicious."

"You think a guy wanting to hide his face is suspicious?" Oliver said exactly what Mia was thinking.

"Under the circumstances? Yes. Anyone in his place would want help to remember his past life. He needs to be identified." He then added, turning to Mia, "And as long as he insists on remaining a double agent, the Dollhouse has access to him. I don't need to tell you why that's a risk."

Mia knew Adam, whatever his real name turned out to be, had his reasons to be apathetic about the idea of chasing the past that haunted him. And he might not know Batman and his cohort, but he wasn't wrong to guess that they wouldn't respect that boundary, in their investigative zeal. And she'd been to his apartment, with every mirror removed. He had more than one reason to be uncomfortable about strangers seeing his face, and Mia would shield him from the world if that's what he needed.

"His face is littered with scars," Mia snapped, "They're self-inflicted, you know? He cut his own face. But see, the Dollhouse can remove scars, quite easily. So they healed him, and he cut it again. And they healed him and he did it again, and again, and again. Until they decided maybe he was more profitable as a spy than as a whore."

Her voice could've cut through steel. Batman remained studiously impassive, but through the corner of her eye she could see that Robin, usually almost as poised as his mentor, had lost what little color his face possessed, and his expression had all the marks of a bleeding-heart.

"So if he says he'll only talk to you through a mask, that's what he'll do. Or are you planning on showing him your face anytime soon?"