( the fight or flight instinct is hardwired into every robin--himself, dick, tim. jason is well-aware of that. the fact that tim isn’t reaching for a weapon, unclenches his fists and continues to just stare him down like that’s strange as hell. he’s pushing back instincts he shouldn’t ignore, was trained to hone not shove back. or maybe it’s something beyond that. this tim isn’t weak, but jason has a fair amount of bulk and strength over him, plenty to overpower tim physically.
maybe that’s part of it. the knife stays in jason’s hand, but he doesn’t move any closer. just stops in place, still several feet away from tim. ) Because you don’t. You care about him, maybe--the other one. But he’s not me.
( they’re different. he’s the robin who died. jason’s the robin who should have died. there’s a piece4 of him that’s a little jealous, honestly; that the jason todd of this universe was put down instead of stuck in arkham for two years..ish. that he was brought back by some strange as hell time displacement, half braindead, and got to piece himself back together. the arkham knight doesn’t have those pieces to tape back together, anymore.
he isn’t broken. not in the kind of ways that are able to be repaired. all that’s left of him is the seething rage that never settles right in his gut. or at least that’s what he tells himself. )
I’m not the Red Hood. ( his voice levels out, practiced calm returning to his tone. ) I’m the Arkham Knight.
no subject
maybe that’s part of it. the knife stays in jason’s hand, but he doesn’t move any closer. just stops in place, still several feet away from tim. ) Because you don’t. You care about him, maybe--the other one. But he’s not me.
( they’re different. he’s the robin who died. jason’s the robin who should have died. there’s a piece4 of him that’s a little jealous, honestly; that the jason todd of this universe was put down instead of stuck in arkham for two years..ish. that he was brought back by some strange as hell time displacement, half braindead, and got to piece himself back together. the arkham knight doesn’t have those pieces to tape back together, anymore.
he isn’t broken. not in the kind of ways that are able to be repaired. all that’s left of him is the seething rage that never settles right in his gut. or at least that’s what he tells himself. )
I’m not the Red Hood. ( his voice levels out, practiced calm returning to his tone. ) I’m the Arkham Knight.