EVENT ★ ROLLING 'ROUND THE BEND

ASTERION PRISON

The white light is blinding. The weightlessness continues. The air thins into nothingness, though those who breathe won't feel the pain of suffocation -- in fact, they won't feel the need to breathe at all. The sensation continues for what may seem like a second or an eternity; it's impossible to tell.

And then the floor hits you. Or rather, you hit the floor. It's cold and metal and as your vision returns, you'll find you're not alone in this small room, though you're definitely not with anyone you know: standing in front of you is a brawny alien in a black uniform, its many purple eyes staring at you. The alien is flanked by a pair of robots, who take advantage of your dazed state and grasp you in their metal arms to drag you from the room into what appears to be a gigantic prison.

As the robots drag you past cells -- some containing other aliens, some containing humanoids, and some containing your teammates -- you'll catch a glimpse of the outside through a window.

You're in outer space.

If questioned, the guard will only tell you that you've been accused of conspiracy to commit grand theft, and your trial will begin soon. But in the meantime, you'd better get cozy.

YOUR NEW HOME

Asterion Prison is a dreadnought class spaceship with several different cell blocks making up a majority of its innards, with the rest of the space designated for day-to-day running of the ship and living quarters for the guards. Audentes is housed in Block 26, which has six tiers of cells situated in a circle around the main recreational area, out of which juts the Block 26 guard tower.

Each inmate, including Audentes recruits, has a glowing blue symbol emblazoned on their forehead. Though it's not immediately clear what the symbols mean, inmates who have been around longer will explain: it's a record of how many lives you've taken, a way for the guards to know who's the most dangerous. The symbol glows through any kind of attempt at covering it -- whether by makeup, clothing, hair, or something else -- so it's best to learn to deal with it quickly.

Speaking of clothing, whatever recruits were wearing upon their abduction has been replaced by a uniform orange jumpsuit. Similarly, any weapons are no longer present, though those with a special connection to their weapons will feel that they are being held elsewhere on the ship.

Luckily, the guards appear to have overlooked jewelcomms, so Audentes will be able to communicate with each other via magitek (text only is suggested, of course, unless you want to get caught!), though contact with Oska or any other outside ALASTAIR recruit seems to be blocked.

LOCKDOWN

As long as inmates keep to themselves and don't bother the guards, things run pretty smoothly. Two meals a day, five hours of sleep, and all the weights you need to get yourself swole. But on the sixth day in Asterion Prison, all hell breaks loose.

No one knows who started it, but there's suddenly a loud roar from the milling crowd in the recreational area. Most inmates scatter, but some rush in -- to see what's going on or to get a piece of the action themselves, who knows -- and then everything becomes an all-out brawl.

Super strong aliens with various powers fight each other loudly and violently while others cower and run for cover. The old alien ducks behind his chess board just in time to avoid a barbell sailing overhead; a six-armed being shoots lava out of its mouth, which does nothing to the metallic floor but severely burns a group of humanoid toads wielding shivs.

The fight goes on for a few long minutes before correctional officers and their robot guards pour in to try and get things under control. Those who are still around once the officers come in are in threat of being dragged off to solitary, even if they had nothing to do with the brawl, so make yourself scarce unless the idea of sitting in the dark for another six days seems appealing.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to space prison! We hope you'll enjoy your stay. There is a plotting write-up here with extra information about the prison ship, and please note that participation in the symbol directory is mandatory.

If you have any questions about the prison that aren't answered here, please direct them to the Leramzen dossier.

Questions about the game in general should be directed to the FAQ and you may submit mission ideas or player plots at any time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Everything has been happening so quickly, it's been difficult for Damian to keep up. First the spontaneous multiverse travel, then the gala, then Father and his...condition, and now an alien prison, all in the span of only a few days. It's no wonder he's put this off for so long even after Wanda had informed him of Jason's presence among the Audente team, and with nothing but time to kill now, it's better to see to this sooner rather than later. Especially given their close quarters, Father's vulnerable state of mind, and Jason's general proclivity towards being a homicidal patricidal moron.

Besides, it'll be nice to let off some steam.

Damian moves further into Jason's light, arms crossed loosely over his chest (loose in case he needs to defend himself) and wearing an expression that speaks volumes to exactly how happy he is to be here.]

We need to talk. Now. [For a brief moment his eyes flicker to Jason's forehead and if possible, he glares harder, disgust creeping in to mar what had before been only a mix of displeasure and general maliciousness. He will not admit even to himself that the number is shockingly low. (Only one step up from his own bright and blazing ΔΔΔ.) Perhaps if he had given it more thought, he might have come to realize why. Instead, he ignores the discrepancy and the nagging feeling that tugs at his instincts the moment he catches sight of Jason's full face. (He looks wrong but then Damian has only met him face to face a handful of times and always with a domino or that tacky helmet between them, so it's easy enough to brush it off.)]

Get up. [He's ten years old and barely over four and a half feet tall, but Todd better believe that if he doesn't get up out of that chair, Damian is going to make him.]

[He can pick up on the presence next to him long before Damian opens his mouth. Speaks up mostly just as a way to break the ice. But he looks up only once he gets an answer out of him. A kid—can't be more than eleven or twelve, if that. Looking down at him like he's swallowed a particularly awful sour lemon. His attention jumps from one thing to the next in rapid succession—The fact that there's another kid out here in the field at all, thanks HR, to the overwhelming aggravation radiating off of Damian's posture in spades, to the baldly telling lineup of delta symbols over his eyes, to—

He looks like Bruce.

So does Jason, after a fashion. So does Dick. But this is more than black-haired, blue-eyed. This kid just looks...a whole lot like Bruce. Talks a whole lot like this isn't a coincidental kind of interruption.

He doesn't get up. But his eyes narrow, and his hackles pick up. (He thinks of Stephanie Brown, who'd known his name and his legacy. Bruce, coming in with no memory and stories of an Endgame that hasn't happened, yet.) He swings his book shut with a snap to set it down on the table to spread his hands in front of him.]

I dunno, I think we're a little closer to eye-to-eye this way.

[He weighs the possibility of sifting through the network directory while they talk. But he decides against sparing the attention, for the moment.]

But I'm all ears, shortstack.

[Just who, exactly, are you supposed to be.]

[Damian's eyes narrow and his lips pull up into a venomous smirk.]

Eye-to-eye, Todd? Be serious. Even standing on top of Wayne Tower wouldn't put you at my level. [There's something in Jason's reaction that doesn't sit right though. Even assuming he'd already known Damian was there from that damned directory, the lack of a more personal insult is odd. Jason was hardly one to pull his punches. And he's starting to take note of the cues he'd missed before, though he can't quite put them together. Something is different about him.]

Exactly how long have you been here? [Because it's hardly like he'd cared to keep track after Todd's escape with Sasha. Maybe he'd gone and gotten himself sucked into another universe a minute after driving away for all Damian knew. It's not like he would have been missed.]

[Wow. What a smug little asshole. Jason's brows hike up toward his hairline while he tries to decide if he finds the act amusing or irritating (Both, probably. One more the other, take bets on which.) At the moment, the alarm bells he's ringing (the names he's dropping, the questions he's asking) manages to take precedence. (Well, mostly.) His eyes lift pretty pointedly up at Damian's (shockingly high for his age, just who the hell is this kid) triple delta brand before looking back down at his face. If we're going to get all competitive—]

Well, who's counting, right?

[The prison. The prison is counting. To hell with it. He calls up the magitek directory for a proper skim. (No way they've gotten new recruits after capture. But if he'd come in right before the heist—) You can do it discretely, because it's only visible to the user, but it does still mean shifting and splitting his focus to read it. So, to keep the conversation going while he does—as if he's not actually at a loss, here—]

What's it been, about fifteen months? [Not particularly hard information to find, if you ask the right people. He watches Damian for a reaction out of his peripheral.] Longer, maybe. It all starts to blur together after the first year or so. Guess hopping around timespace will do that to you.

[Ha ha Todd, if he thinks having a higher kill count is something to brag about, Damian's got something to say about that. Besides, he knows for a fact that at his age Jason didn't have half as many kills to his name. In any case, those thoughts are swiftly pushed aside in favor of more pressing matters, and for the first time in the conversation, his smug arrogance slips a notch.]

That's impossible. We rescued Scarlet less than a month ago. [That niggling in the back of his mind grows, an idea beginning to take form.]

How...what was the last thing you remember before you were here? [Space and time he said. Space and time. Holy shit.]

[It's his age that makes it worth the looking. No matter what he may have done (or what Damian may think of him) even Jason doesn't believe in making freaking ten year olds into killers. But that's not a bone to pick while they're wrestling with timespace inconsistencies.

The scale of which gets a reaction out of the kid. Which is y'know, a least a little bit gratifying. Damian may have the upper hand in timeline, but Jason's got it in context. Which doesn't put them on level ground, but at least they can both deal with the metaphysical jetlag together.

He uncrosses his feet at the ankle to plant them and sit up straighter. We, huh?]

Gosh, that sounds pretty darn heroic of us. [No comment on what he was doing before he showed up, apparently. There's a few new names on the directory since he last checked before the heist. Only one of them is at all notable. If not in the precise way he'd been aiming for. (Real subtle, kiddo.) And since he'd like to move things along—and he can see the gears start to turn behind Damian's (eerily familiar) eyes anyway—]

Who's Scarlet?

[Damn it, he shouldn't have said 'we,' he should have said 'we rescued scarlet and you tagged along like a useless idiot.' Especially since they had been cleaning up Todd's mess in the first place.

Not that any of it matters in the face of his last statement. Even with someone with as low an IQ as Todd, he wouldn't have forgotten Scarlet so quickly, which coupled with some of the other inconsistencies (and the face that he is finally taking the time to examine more closely) has made it very clear that they aren't on the same page here.

Of course with Jason's non-answer, it's difficult to determine exactly what page that is.]

I asked you a question, Todd. [And he sure as hell isn't going to answer Jason's while letting his go on ignored.]

[Jason lifts a shoulder in a way that says "and I ignored it." There's no hiding that Damian's got him at a disadvantage. But he's not inclined to give out more than he needs to very quickly. Even though it looks like Schrodinger's cat is probably long out of the bag from his perspective. Stephanie Brown hadn't been surprised to see him kicking, either.

And Damian looks so very familiar, for someone he's never meet. Jason watches his face, like he's trying to find evidence of any other explanation to this than the obvious. What the hell does it mean?]

What d'you want me to tell you, kiddo? [That he'd just parted ways with Talia al Ghul? Returned to Gotham with agendas and angles that he never got a chance to play out? He's so behind the times that he can feel the gap, and it makes his teeth itch.] I'm gonna need a little more context before I go for the personal questions.

[For example, and intentionally missing the point—]

Don't tell me you really roll with "Redacted." That's a little on the nose for a moniker isn't it?

[It's not the answer he needs, but it's enough. It informs him of one incredibly crucial detail that makes everything else click into place.]

...you don't have any idea who I am, do you? [No need to answer, it's rhetorical. At the very least, he is from before Father's "death" at the hands of Darkseid which puts him at least a year behind him. Most likely even further back he guesses, taking a better look at Todd's face.]

Amazing. [And you know what? Fuck it, he's going to find out eventually anyway, might as well use it while he can.] Well Todd, I would have used a name a little more familiar to you, but Father's already run along and mentioned my real name to a few people, and anyway, green, red, and yellow don't really work for prison colors, now do they?

[Congratulations, Jason, you have a brother. Also he's Robin. Also also he's an asshole.]

[He'd had his suspicions about all of those out already, but it's always nice to have confirmation.

He's watching like a hawk while Damian puts it together and spills. Can't help the way his jaw pulls tight when it all comes out. There we go. That he'd suspected doesn't make it much less of a kicker. (Bruce gets himself a real son and trades in Drake or Brown or whoever else gets to hold the name in the years it takes for his kid to exist for a new model. Puts him in the cape and on the streets.)

Robin. Robin with a bodycount. (Which, really, will only make figuring out the maternity side of the equation a little easier once he gets around to putting attention to it. He spent a lot of time with Talia al Ghul. Not the time, though.)

His hands are braced on his seat. Despite himself, his fingers curl tightly around the edge of his chair.]

I can't believe you missed the jailbird joke, what the hell has the world come to while I was out.

[So much for the quippy kids in capes. Things just never were the same after the original, were they. He's at a disadvantage here and he hates the joy the kid (Robin) seems to take in that already. He keeps his tone blithe.]

But since you're not surprised to see me kicking I'll skip all that. [There's a better timeframe for you, Damian. The math is a little bit of a red flag (how old is this kid, he'd have to be a decade out of date. or.) but he he doesn't pursue it the topic. They've got a mutual problem. Instead—]

What do you know about Endgame?

[He sees the way Todd's body tenses, his jaw shifting under Damian's words. It's gratifying in a way the rest of his reactions hadn't been. All of that flickers away a moment later.

It takes only a second for the smug satisfaction to fade into frustration and he drops his gaze, shaking his head and even choosing not to remark on Jason's stupid pun. Todd is an idiot and a murderer, but he was so the closest thing Damian had to someone who might understand the gravity of the situation. Not an ally, confidante, or friend, but still something more than an enemy. (He was trained by the bat and however much of a moron he could be, and however much Damian called him as such, Father did not tolerate stupidity. Jason Todd might not be trustworthy but he was still worth making a temporary alliance with.

However unholy a union it might be.]

Nothing. He's from my future as well. [And he shouldn't have this conversation with Todd of all people, he really shouldn't, but he's the only one here who will understand.]

...you've seen the symbol on his forehead? [One kill to his name. Batman and the Joker "dead" and one kill to Batman's name. He has no idea how to feel about it.]

[Jason watches the frustration bleed into Damian's posture at the topic of timelines and watches his eyes drop to the ground and decides then and there he buys his story. (One could feel bad for the kid. Dragged out into space with a father who doesn't remember him and no support systems to fall back on. But he is Robin.)

And of all the many muddy waters and unanswered questions and pressing topics they could cover. Of course, it's this one what comes to light first. Funny enough, that makes two of them at a bit of a loss. No part of Jason can regret the idea of a world without the Joker. But it's...complicated.

There's a beat that's a breath too long. Then, very deliberately—]

I've seen it.

[He conveniently neglects to mention he'd seen it because he and Bruce happen to be sharing a cell. Like some kind of cosmic forces have aligned to undermine his greatest efforts to distance himself from this new and maddening model of Bruce Wayne. Who looks at him and sees no one and nothing of significance, and who wouldn't and couldn't understand even if he tried to confront him about it. Who carries apparent proof of blood on his hands and apparent news of the Joker's conveniently timed death alongside the Batman. His expression twists up, wry and humorless.]

Is this where we start placing bets on the unlucky stiff? Wish I could say it's two to one odds on the clown, all things considered, but you know what they say about assuming.

[Moron or not, he's not as stupid as he used to be. (And yet. Who else could it be?)]

[Without missing a beat he cuts straight through the bullshit, his eyes never leaving Todd's.]

He told me that Endgame was a final confrontation between Batman and the Joker in which both of them ended up dead. He has no memory, and we've both seen the evidence of blood on his hands. [They've both already come to the same conclusion and he knows it, no matter what games Todd wants to play at.]

They fought to the death. It's the obvious conclusion. Only he got the ending wrong. [Because Batman didn't die—no—Bruce Wayne didn't die.]

[Bruce Wayne didn't die. He's just...missing. Burned away, blank slate clear, a whole fresh start. And surely they've worked out weirder. Hell, Jason had been a braindead shell of himself until Talia had tossed him in the pit. Surely—

His hands clench and unclench at his sides, fingers hooked around the edge of his chair.]

You'll forgive me if I'm not in a rush to feel bad about that bit, kiddo.

[The Joker's death at the Batman's hands. He is, perhaps, a little biased.]

Who said anything about feeling bad? [As far as he's concerned, the Joker can rot in hell if he really is gone for good, and while the idea of Father killing is a jarring one, it's not something he's going to lose any sleep over.

But there's more to it than that, something else eating away at him that's been in the back of his mind from the moment Father had explained exactly what endgame was.]

Why, Todd? You of all people know what didn't push him that far, so what in the hell did? [It's a low blow and he doesn't care. He needs to know what made him do it. Needs to know who died because that appears to be the only explanation as to what could possibly have finally made him end the joker.

There are only two people he can think of whose deaths at the Joker's hands might have been the catalyst for exactly what happened, and Damian already knows Pennyworth is alive and well. He pretends not to be hoping that Todd will disagree and offer some other possibility. (He pretends very hard not to be terrified of being right.)]

[You of all people. Any points Damian wins for supporting righteous clown murder get a little sidelined by the depth of the dig. He doesn't bother trying to wrangle the healthy measure of acid from creeping into his voice.]

Your guess is as good as mine. [Better, maybe, though he hates to admit it. It's been increasingly clear that he's running with outdated information. Still, since Damian's done a fine job of digging up his spite—] Have you asked how good ol' Nightwing's been doing lately?

[A bitter pill, but not one that happens to be news. He isn't under any illusions. If it had been Dick Grayson who got himself crowbarred and blown up way back then, the Joker wouldn't have lived to see another headline. He'd been sure of that since he'd picked up those Parisian papers and learned what Talia meant by unavenged.]

[He doesn't even process the sound of his chair clattering to the ground with how fast he rises, hands slamming down on the table in front of him. His fingers twitch for a weapon—any weapon—but he doesn't reach for the belt that isn't there or the knives that aren't where they should be.]

Shut up. [For as much as Damian is currently priding himself on having the upper hand, he sure as hell is giving his own secrets away faster than he can speak them. If there was any question of his standing with Dick Grayson, there certainly isn't now. It's a stark contrast compared with his almost nonchalant dismissive reaction to his father's memory loss.

And he knows he could solve the mystery with a single question to Father, but he can't. He's too afraid and that fear only feeds his anger now.]

[Wow. Touched a nerve, huh? That's different. His brows hike up pointedly toward his hairline, but he doesn't follow suit to stand. Not least because he can see the other inmates in the room stop their milling in his peripheral, turning to stare over at the source of the disturbance. The guards in the hall are, for the moment, staying put rather than coming in to investigate.]

If Dickiebird is off the table, I'm open to suggestions. Can't say Bats'll be clearing up many mysteries any time soon. [Unless you, y'know, ask him about Dick, Damian. That said—] Unruffle your feathers, or we're going to have ourselves an audience.

[Or ruffle them, but ruffle them a little more covertly. He's already gotten clocked by the robots once, that was enough for posterity's sake for a while. And presumably, they're not done here.]

[There's a moment in which Damian is obviously debating if it'll be worth it or not, but eventually he sits back down, arms pulled tight across his chest and glare in full force. After they break out, he promises himself. He'll find the time to deck Todd in the face but only after.

After a few more moments of tense silence in which Damian doesn't feel like talking to him but also doesn't feel like leaving yet, he finally unwinds some, contenting himself with his future plans to break Jason's nose.]

He said Pennyworth is safe. [Not in one piece, but safe. And if it wasn't Pennyworth and couldn't be Grayson then...well. Maybe it was better not to think about it right now anyway. It's not like Todd could offer any valuable insight anyway.]

...you're rooming with him. He told me. [He fixes Jason with a searching glare.]

[He's going to pass on those plans, thanks, he's still using that nose.

Damian has been notably smug and spiteful, so far. Clearly enjoying his upper hand, deliberately twisting knives in wounds that all Jason's distance from Gotham hasn't managed to close. So the update is a little unexpected in its abruptness—whether it is meant to reassure him—(he couldn't really ask after Bruce Wayne's butler, back when he'd gotten the brief on Endgame. But some quiet part of him has been wondering, and it eases back, a little,)—or, more likely, just keep them on the same page. Either way, every little bit helps. Filling in the blanks on blanks in the time that separates them. Slowly.

His jaw shifts, and he meets Damian's glare head on. He doesn't look particularly thrilled with the pursuit of this topic, but he doesn't bother trying to deny it.]

Take up with the warden if you want to swap. [For the record, since they're getting on the same page, sort of—] We'd crossed paths in Gotham after Endgame, apparently. Otherwise, he doesn't know me from Adam.

[Not in any way that really means anything. And it figures, really, that he didn't make it into whatever briefing Bruce had gotten on his previous life. Might as well make things official, wipe that wasted enterprise out.]

[He knows Father is unaware of the relationship Todd once had with the family, but he hadn't realized they'd met in Gotham after his memory loss. It means that Todd was still around in Gotham in a few years and clearly still bothering them. It also means if this Todd were from later on he might have been able to clue Damian into all the pieces he is missing which only serves to annoy him more.]

I will make myself very plain, Todd. If you touch him, this number will go up. Are we clear? [If there were ever a reason to break his oath, this one is worth it. Perhaps Father and Grayson would disagree, but Grayson isn't here and Father doesn't remember it anyway. Instead, Todd is here, and Damian doesn't know him well enough to gauge his threat level. In a fight with Batman, the winner would be Batman any day. without his memory though? Damian doesn't know.

Mostly he doesn't know if the lack of memory will be a deterrent to Jason Todd or a boon. It would be a dishonorable dirty tactic to strike out at the man without his memory of the conflict, but this is Jason Todd after all. Dishonorable and dirty had never stopped him before.]

[That gets an arched look.]

Death threats duly noted.

[It's dry on the surface. But only just. Jason's feelings on Bruce's condition are complicated—much like Jason's feelings on Bruce in general. And Damian hasn't exactly ingratiated himself to him enough for a touching heart to heart, so he seems to choose not to grace that with any more enlightening response.

(If he wanted to kill Bruce, he would have done it ages ago. Lit him up in a fireball with the Batmobile. On the battlefield in Oska weeks ago. That's not what he wants, not really. He's realized that, at least.)]

Anything else you feel like getting off your chest while we're laying out ground rules?

[It's a less aggressive reaction that he might have anticipated though that doesn't mean he believes him. At least Todd doesn't seem likely to go off on a murderous rampage at the slightest provocation. (There's something to be said about pots and kettles here but Damian chooses not to acknowledge it.)]

There's just the one, Todd. Break it and you'll regret it. [Just in case he wasn't clear before.

He should probably tell Todd that none of his murdering murderers bullshit will be tolerated here either, but...he promised Grayson he wouldn't kill. Neglecting to "correct" someone else's morality is completely different. Maybe if they were on Earth it wouldn't be. They aren't and it isn't worth the annoying debate the rule would likely bring up, especially given that he'd be arguing on the side he doesn't believe in.]

That is all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT ★ ROLLING 'ROUND THE BEND

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