( jason knows what the pit does, thanks. he also knows that one has to be at least a little bit alive for it to work, that something has to be still ticking in a body to bring it back up. this jason doesn’t have any fucking reason to lie to him though, not one that he can find, so he’ll believe him for now. what choice does he really have? interrogating himself isn’t going to get him anywhere. hell, he’s been through that shit enough and wouldn’t even want to fucking touch it.
and if he’s being honest, that shred of hatred he feels for this jason todd grows even stronger knowing he got to take the easy way out; he died. it was over for him. he was brought back by the pit, resurrected by ra’s al ghul for god knows what reasons. to get back at batman. to have some leverage over him, something. whatever his reasons were, the al ghul’s aren’t—nearly as fucking crazed as the man with the glasgow smile. this jason todd died the day the joker nabbed him. he got out.
unlike him. it explains how few scars he has, the lack of a brand. the mild differences between them. and hell if he isn’t jealous. he wishes he had died. wishes it’d have been over—hell, he wouldn’t have blamed bruce on it, jason’s the one who ran four steps too far and got himself into that bullshit. if he’d died, he would have been done.
he wouldn’t have begged for it to end, begged for the joker to stop, begged for him to please just let him go. jason cracked, he had been broken and repieced back together into a suitable toy. carved out and replaced with nothing but hatred and— )
Neither did I. ( both hands free, he raises them up to his sides, gives an idle shrug of his shoulders as the blue slits in his mask over his eyes glow faintly. ) But as it turns out, even crazy assholes with zero attention span can find somethin’ to hold onto. ( the voice changer kicks in, muffles his tone. but the venom in it is still evident enough even through that. ) Guess we can’t all be winners.
action.
and if he’s being honest, that shred of hatred he feels for this jason todd grows even stronger knowing he got to take the easy way out; he died. it was over for him. he was brought back by the pit, resurrected by ra’s al ghul for god knows what reasons. to get back at batman. to have some leverage over him, something. whatever his reasons were, the al ghul’s aren’t—nearly as fucking crazed as the man with the glasgow smile. this jason todd died the day the joker nabbed him. he got out.
unlike him. it explains how few scars he has, the lack of a brand. the mild differences between them. and hell if he isn’t jealous. he wishes he had died. wishes it’d have been over—hell, he wouldn’t have blamed bruce on it, jason’s the one who ran four steps too far and got himself into that bullshit. if he’d died, he would have been done.
he wouldn’t have begged for it to end, begged for the joker to stop, begged for him to please just let him go. jason cracked, he had been broken and repieced back together into a suitable toy. carved out and replaced with nothing but hatred and— )
Neither did I. ( both hands free, he raises them up to his sides, gives an idle shrug of his shoulders as the blue slits in his mask over his eyes glow faintly. ) But as it turns out, even crazy assholes with zero attention span can find somethin’ to hold onto. ( the voice changer kicks in, muffles his tone. but the venom in it is still evident enough even through that. ) Guess we can’t all be winners.