riverviewlogs | So what if you can see the darkest side of me..

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So what if you can see the darkest side of me..

who: Jason Todd
what: October Catch All & Memeshare
when: 9th-22nd
where: All around.
warnings: This post will be full of triggery things as Jason's life has been a horror show. A quick overview, child abuse, drug use/overdose, under-aged smoking, child death, buried alive, and murder, illusions to drowning. Angst, buckets of angst. Anything else will be updated.
Note: Unless otherwise stated or plotted, each person who tags in will get a new memory. Feel free to poke me at

opticon Dreamscape's can and likely will get more than one memory. Some memories will not only have text, but also pictures in which they were pulled from.

A: Mom checked out (Drug use and violence implied)
It looked like a abandoned room. No power, a dirty wooden floor, bare wooden walls and a mattress on the floor surrounded by candles. The most beautiful thing in the room was the woman laid on the mattress. A bandage on her arm. Her red lock's dyed black. He hated when she dyed her hair, but what she does when he's out he can't stop, out of everything she does with her life a bit of dye was the least bad.

"You see, Mom... I hurt someone today. I was getting us food." He spoke to the unconcious woman as he held her hand. She was the full focus of his attention. Guilt laced his voice. "I know you're not hungry much right now, but you need to eat something. Some guy came out of the alley. He tried to take it from me. From you. From us. I just got so angry, I couldn't think. I started hitting him over and over. When I caught my breath I saw blood on my hands. I let him run away... I mean, I think he's fine...but I didn't mean to do that. I didn't want to..." He rambles before tears start streaking his face falling from his eyes.

He knows she's not listening and he feels helpless. Nothing he does is helping her. "I wish you would stop taking that stuff. I wish you could hear me... I miss you." She wasn't going to answer...

[ Image]

B-Meeting the Bat

It was like any night, for Jason anyway, moving quietly through the streets of Crime Alley. People left him alone for the most part. Which in return got him left alone, again for the most part. Taking a turn down one of the desolate alleyways when he saw it. The Batmobile in all of it's glory. Well, why not. He thought as he moved forward with his tire iron. The big bad Bat's car didn't look like it was that protected. So he kneeled and got to work.

Once he had one tire off he heard someone clear their throat. Looking up his eyes went wide. "You do realize thats the Batmobile, right?" The voice spoke Batman was bigger than life. But he didn't run, no he did what he did best. He smarted off.

"Duh, you do realize you parked your car in Crime Alley, right?" Batman moved forward towards him and Jason swung out at him with the tire iron, he really didn't want to go to Gotham Lockup with his old man. The man dressed as a bat caught the Iron like it was nothing

"You wanna beat up on a kid, go enlist in the GCPD like every other bully in this city." He hissed at the man, who was now lifting him like he weighed nothing. That deep voice spoke again.

"I'm only going to ask you this once. So give some serious thought to your answer." Then he smirked, when Jason spat out a quick reply of 'what?'. "Are you hungry?"

---
Now sitting on the hood of the Batmobile Jason was scarffing down a burger and fries. It was like heaven at the moment.

"Slow down, Jason, You're going to lose a finger."
"Sorry" munch munch "This is the closest thing I've had to a home-cooked meal I've had since..." chomp "... I had a home."

He looks up realizing where the hillside their parked at is. "Funny, I was here once. Looking for Wayne Manor. Trying to case the place but I got lost."

The Batman looks his way. "Why do you think its okay to steal from other people?"

"You kidding me? Look at this view. Freaking "billionaire playboy" think's he's king of the world. Pfft." Jason grumbles as he eats.

"Sometimes you have to give people a chance, Jason. They'll usually surprise you." The bat spoke before silence swept over them and both ate quietly.

C: Dig Lazurus Dig (Buried alive, illuisions to drowning, and pain)

Darkness, darkness all around. It was hot and stuffy this much was clear as Jason opened his eyes to the purest blackness. Trying to sit up he knocked his head into wood before realization sank in. "BRUCE!" panic building in his chest, he knew exactly where he was. It was a coffin. "BRUCE!" His hands moved looking for anything, ANYTHING. His belt buckle was all he could find, Forcing himself to calm down. Instinct taking over, if he panicked he would run out of air.

The belt buckle was used to tear the silk and hit the fine wood above. It took what felt like forever his nails long ripped off as he dug himself up, forcing himself to breath slowly. His hand shot up through the dirt, he was lucky Gotham was always so rainy.

He pulled himself up out of the dirt taking deep breaths now, nothing seemed focus anymore. A few steps and down he went....

His eyes opened again, green liquid obscuring his view. For a moment he sees a beautiful woman above the water, her eyes wide... was that fear? What was happening? Then the pain rushed through like fire.

It burned, and yet he felt like he was drowning and couldn't escape. Her and reached down and pulled him up. "Come now." She spoke quickly. He knew her.

"Talia."

"Yes, your story is not yet over, Jason." She spoke in that beautiful middle eastern accent of hers. Next they were running, he had so many questions.

"Whats happening!" He called to her as they reached a cliff-side and she shoved a duffle bag in his hands. "You are unavenged! Do not go back to him, learn before you react." She spoke quickly, dragging him up and kissing him fully on the lips before shoving him off the cliff. Him and the bag falling as she turned and ran the other way. Jason watched the world spin around him....

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Jason had been at his favorite sleazy bar, unlike normal he wasn't just killing time or looking for information. He was actively trying to drown his sorrows. Between a lack of good sleep and the endless dream walking he felt like he was stuck in a constant state of insomnia which did wonders for his already hair triggered temper.

He was moody and it didn't help his situation that he had not found a good outlet for his temper aside from hanging out in the bar and looking for trouble. Which is exactly what he decided to do once another shot had crossed his lips, turning looking around. Enough of the regulars knew enough of the nameless regular to not make eye contact with him, even the bar tender turned a blind eye because at least Jason usually took his fights outside. And usually those that met his fists had earned it. Tonight he made the mistake of bumping hard into another man as he made his way towards the back.

"Fuckin' move." he slurred in his heavy jersey accent as if he had been the one bumped into.

Frank didn't get the memo about not making eye contact. Not that he would have paid attention to it.

He's down here because this is another way you learn how a place works--not the ready-for-company surface, like the housing units and the shops--but places like this, where the lights are dark and anything can happen.

The bump rocks Frank's weight onto his back foot, and the words that follow don't really help center him either. "Your turn." He'll return the favor, shoving the guy's shoulder away from him.

The second the hands shoved him, all six foot one, two-twenty-five pounds of Jason Todd moved. He shifted to quickly for just a normal person. twisting on his feet to pull both fists up and face the man. He didn't care who the new face was in the bar. He stepped up. That was enough for Jason.

He swung a hard right at the man with the oh so punchable face, praying to not be disappointed. He needed to burn the rage off, needed to feel some kind of pain to feel something besides the emptiness sleep deprivation left.

"Goddamnit! TAKE IT OUTSIDE!" the bartender screamed at them both.

Okay, the guy's got a few inches and some pounds on Frank. But Frank's got fifteen years of Marines under his belt, and a vendetta that wouldn't fit in this whole place.

The punch lands, but Frank isn't the guy with the glass jaw. He can take a punch. And follow through, reaching under the fist to grab the guy's waistband. Bartender wants them outside? This guy's gonna lead the way. Head first. Through the window.

It's a classic move.

Jason had years of training and his own revenge trip, but he also had way to much liquor in his system and wasn't wearing his normal body armor under his clothes like he so often did. So there was a suprised noise just as he was yanked up.

It's been awhile since that happened.

He went through the window but took it like a champ. This was far from his first Rodeo. He'd be picking glass out of his skin later tonight, pushing himself up with bits sticking out of his exposed bits of skin. His leather jacket was still hanging on the chair, so his exposed arms had bits of glass from his stupid graphic t-shirt.

"COME ON! WE'RE NOT DONE!" Jason yelled back through the glass in the heavy Jersey accent.

Damn right they weren't done. Frank's got a punch in the face just waiting to be returned, for one thing.

He steps through the broken windowframe, glass crunching under his boots, hands already in fists.

"Careful what you ask for," he snarls, following that up with a rushing tackle, trying to take the guy back down to the ground.

Jason took a deep breath shifting so his own boots crunched into some of the glass, pulling himself at a ready to fight. He didn't care about the knife behind his back, this was what he needed, fists blood and an outlet.

As the man came towards him Jason's face twisted into something almost akin to excitment. Normally he didn't care so much for what he does, but some nights it was like a drug. Boots firmly planted as the man rushed him, the tackle nearly getting him off his feet but he shifted his weight just enough to keep from going down. Pulling his head back and then down going for a head butt, but there was was still glass in him, and his drinking hadn't helped much just making him bleed faster, making it easier to get out of his grip.

Frank isn't finding this exciting: this is some kind of catharsis, but he's not enjoying it.

The guy slips out of his grip, his vision blanking just for a second from the head butt. He wipes his bleeding nose with one hand, resetting his guard.

"Had enough?" Because he's got plenty more. Plenty more anger and plenty more moves.

Jason knew deep down something was very wrong with him for enjoying these moments. Something that made him cross Bruce's hard line in the sand, something that covered a once optimistic boy with blood and pain and brought out a monster, but a monster that prayed on other monsters. One that strove to never let another monster like himself exist.

That monster he was craved these moments even when he couldn't utter it aloud. The headbutt having connected sent a dizzing ring through his head, sending his vision blurry a second before he shook his head, grinning through his split lip.

"Nope, why, have you old man?"

A name usually reserved for Bruce, but it slipped out in the moment. "Come on." He spoke before a loud desperate scream ripped through the night not far off, enough to make Jason look away from his new form of fun towards the noise.

"Just giving you a chance to save your pretty face." Old man. Right.

Frank's just starting his next round--a lunge in with an ankle trip, maybe, to get the kid on the ground--when they both hear that scream. He catches himself, just a stuttering step into his attack.

Yeah, fuck 'come on'. He doesn't even look at the kid, turning and pelting down the street, dead sprint, toward that scream.

See if you can keep up, youngster.

A flat look was returned as Jason didn't even respond to the talk, ready to go until the scream. As Frank turns so does Jason. Not a thought spared to his jacket or the mess. Just sprinting after the one he had dubbed old man.

For an old man he can run. Even with his training it's hard to keep up, but that could also be the blood loss.

In a nearby alley three rather large idiots had a pretty young woman trapped against a wall. Three idiots were about to have a very bad night.

Frank's used to moving fast, wearing a couple dozen pounds of body armor. Running wearing only a jacket? He could do this all damn day.

He hears the other guy pounding after him, showing that youth had its own advantage. "You get the one on the right." Because the other two? Yeah, they're his.

He shoves the first guy, jamming him up against the wall, backswinging with his elbow to hit asshole number two in the throat, who staggers back, just as Frank gets the first one down to the ground.

Youth and stubborness was all that had him moving as fast as he was after Frank. He'd be feeling it come morning. He still had glass in his skin and pain from the hits he took but, he was never one to let pain stop him. "Got it."

Even if he no longer considered himself a follower, he still followed orders well and without thought when he was in the heat of the moment. He would have argued it but, he was already on the one on the right. Driving his fist into the guy's face with his weight and speed behind it. The sound of bone cracking could be heard as he took a deep breath almost like a tension released before slamming his fist back down again. The man was clearly out now, as Jason pushed himself back up staring at the body, wanting to put his foot into the guys neck but Bruce's words ringing in his head. The damn promise not to kill anymore.

The woman in question, didn't wait to thank the two who intervened, like a smart cookie shes running.

Frank pays just enough attention to the other guy to know he doesn't have to worry about the guy on the right. He rolls off the first guy, making sure his elbow drives into the guy's belly. He catches the other guy with a leg, just as the other guy is recovering, getting ideas.

Frank rolls to his feet, glaring down at guy number two, glancing over at his former opponent.

"Anyone want any more?" That includes you, kid. Because he's just warming up.

Jason stood listening to the sound of the other man taking down the scumbags, seeing the woman running was good enough to know she'd probably be fine. Turning in time to see Frank roll to his feet, he himself was starting to feel the night now that the action was dying down and just shrugged at the question.

"Nah, I think I'm good now." Something felt better about kicking the shit out of scumbags than someone else who clearly had the same idea. Lifting one arm he start to pick the glass out of his arm trying not to flinch as he did so. "You got a name?"

The scumbags, also, had had enough, apparently, and Frank steps back, letting them beat their own hasty retreat. "Castle. Frank Castle." He watches the kid pick out glass from the window he'd thrown him through. "Sorry about that, by the way."

At least one was being drug away by his buddies, likely one of Frank's goon's was the one out cold. "Todd. Jason Todd." He replied, trying to sound a bit to much like Bond, it had been awhile since he got to make a spy joke. He shook his head at the apology.

"Nah, I deserved it, I was being a dick. No hard feelings?" He offered as he turned as if to head back down the street plucking at the glass. "Left my jacket back at the bar. Kinda need that. So, are you military or..." Civilians don't just fight like that. Theres training in the way Mr. Castle moves.

"Yeah, no big deal. Kind of overreacted." Get shoved, throw guy through window. Jesus, Frank. Moderation? What the hell is that. "We should probably give our names to the bartender, anyway." Who would doubtless like to bill them for said window.

"Ex military." Ex. The Marines probably wouldn't want the association any more than he does right now. "Fifteen years. You?" Because hey, the kid was no slouch.

"To be fair, I would have done the same, man." He spoke with a shrug a flinch given as the Adrenalin was coming down. Reaching back he found the bit of glass that he clearly jostled puling it free as he made his way back with him. "Lou knows my name, I come here a lot." Looked like he'd be signing this weeks check over to him.

"Thought so, that throw, not just anyone does that." He spoke sounding impressed. "Eh, not really. Just a lot of training. I'm more private security. Been at it most of my life." How did one explain being a vigilante anyway?

"Yeah, well, he's going to learn my name, too, apparently." And get a big share of Frank's paychecks, too. But that's the price.

"Private security? Aren't you a little young?" He means 'young to be that good'--when he was this kid's age, he was still learning the job of a Marine.

"Lou's pretty cool, as long as we keep the shit outside. I come here a lot." He spoke as he moved on back, it was a longer walk than run. Least they would pay for the damages.

"Most would think so, I started young in other work." He rubbed at the back of his head with the arm that didn't take as much damage. Before he shrugged. Everyone in this place seemed to be different. "it's easier to explain if you have an open mind and don't have a big mouth." he figured looking at the guy both were a possibility.

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So what if you can see the darkest side of me..

Closed to Frank Castle

awesome! :D

/o/

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