#beendeaddonethat

[outlawedxrcher]

[oracleisonline-a]

@beendeaddonethat

“I know you’re technically doing this as a favor to me, but I’m going to need another favor in the form of a tourist-y postcard on your way back. A favor within a favor.” Having the Red Hood on the other end of her comm line was new. They’d worked together as Batgirl and Robin for five years, very briefly as Batgirl and the Red Hood, but Oracle and the Red Hood was new. New and yet familiar, comfortable and easy to slip back into. Almost like being back in the field with him, laughing and racing on rooftops on slow patrol nights, vaulting across gaps and carefully winding on rooftop ledges....almost. “It’s for my dad, if that helps matters any.” The screens in front of her had a map of the area, of the deceptively decrepit looking warehouse that he’d traveled to Montenegro to investigate for her. Barbara knew better than to jude anything by outward appearances, least of all a location that she’d been able to trace back to RJ Boyle and the reactivated Winter Soldier program. “He’s the postcard guy. My mom was into those weird little spoons that are at like, every travel stop. Anyway.” The transition from Barbara to Oracle was almost abrupt, idle conversation about souvenirs left behind as she zoomed in on the schematics of the warehouse. “South side has the least in terms of security measures - I’m only reading two cameras. The other sides are definitely less favorable, but on the southern wall there isn’t any entrance short of blowing a hole through the foundation - which I am not recommending, to be clear. I can take care of the cameras from here, take the southward approach and take out those two cameras while I work on the others. Be quick.”

[ravaging-rose]

@beendeaddonethat

“ -- Alright, darling,” Rose began, cigarette dangling from between her lips as she finished the sketched-out-stencil she’d been working on (a rose, small and simple, damn near identical to her own rose tattoo), holding it up for his inspection. “Time to decide your fate.” A grin began, her free hand reaching to snag that cigarette before it fell, exhaling smoke up and away from them. "Behind door number one is putting it right back where it was.” On his wrist. She could still remember the night she gave it to him so vividly, had replayed it often over the years (after he’d died, though she really tried her best not to think about that, remembered that too vividly as well).

 She’d gotten the ink, the needle, the alcohol (for disinfecting, but well, they’d definitely dipped into that for fun already), and now she’d finished out the outline: Jason Todd would be getting yet another tattoo from Rose Wilson, and lucky for him she actually knew what she was doing this time. Now it was just a matter of where to put it. “Door number two, we go full matchy-match here.” She turned her head to show one of the tattoos he’d given her, a rose tucked behind her ear on her neck. “....Or door number three: dealer’s choice and let me pick. Personally, I vote for that one.”

[redrobinrising]

@beendeaddonethat​

The skeletal infrastructure of crumbled buildings looked eerie in the moonlight. Novi Grad really was a ghost town, through and through; reconstruction was slow and left most of the city untouched and uninhabitable, with unlit, cracked streets winding an unsettling path through the remnants of the capital’s center.

Creepy, he thought. Perfect.

Tim pulled himself up into the exposed second story of an old housing block. From there, he could survey a good portion of the ruins through the enhanced lenses of his cowl. He wasn’t normally drawn to the epicenter of a catastrophe like this, but the story of metal armies and falling cities grabbed his attention and had yet to let go, and now that he was here, he saw no reason to not inspect the remains.

The reports were vague, anyway. He liked to see things for himself.

He swept his gaze from east to west and took in the ruins piece by piece. A bank, a school, a historic statue reduced to nothing but a pedestal. When he turned his gaze downward, he stopped.

Tim felt his neck crack as his attention snapped to a dark shadow amidst the rubble. A shadow in the shape of a man whose face was hidden under an alarmingly familiar--

“Jason?”

Jason Todd. Red Hood. The man who’d haunted the better part of his teenage years. Tim never thought he’d see him again - not in Gotham, and certainly not in Sokovia. 

“You sure get around, don’t you?” He bit his tongue, felt his throat spasm against the words. He didn’t want to talk to the man. He didn’t want to see him. Too many complicated feelings were attached to Jason. They inhabited what was still a confusing bundle of memories for Tim, so near to the surface and yet buried down under a persistent desire to move on. For Bruce’s sake, for his own.

But he couldn’t fight the urge to approach, either, and let it carry him forward. 

[maybemaybemartian]

@beendeaddonethat

It wasn’t until the day after the takedown of Arnim Zola’s disembodied code that M’gann managed to sneak away from the Mousehole to investigate the mysterious signature that had taken a shot at Bruce. She’d picked up on it as Bruce’s mood had darkened, and she had recognized it… in a sense. This was not the same signature as the one she’d known. No. To compare them would be to see two moving images of the same vase, each floating in space. One worn. One shattered. Pieced together haphazardly with the occasional borrowed sliver shoved in among the cracks. It seemed impossible. It was impossible. And yet she knew it was him all the same.

M’gann followed the signature to a bar in Matchak and stood outside a while, mulling it over again and again. Yes, he had taken a shot at Bruce. No, she didn’t think he would hurt her. If he was who she thought he was, Bruce had kept him a secret for quite some time. Maybe years. If he’d meant to kill Bruce, he probably would have. There was always a chance that she was wrong, of course. That he’d take one look and shoot her, too. But M’gann wasn’t particularly afraid of that. Bullets weren’t a real problem for her.

She pulled open the heavy door of Stara Kafana only to shove it closed not a second later. The cloud of cigarette smoke from inside the bar had her stifling a wheeze. M’gann backtracked over to her spot beside the bike rack across the street. Hm.

“Excuse me,” M’gann called to a man getting ready to enter the bar. “Would you mind asking my friend to come outside for me? Dark hair. He’s sitting at the bar,” she felt around for a moment, pretending that she was merely pausing to straighten her sweater. “The last taken seat at the bar.” She gave him a shy smile and tucked a lock hair behind her ear.

“Sure thing.” The man grinned and went on in. “Hey, pal. There’s a girl outside who wants to you to come meet her.”

[spoilingstephanie]

@beendeaddonethat @nightwingxrising @boyblunderrising

[wondxrwoman]

@beendeaddonethat

DECEMBER 3, 2020.

[ TO: J. ❤️ ] Jason, I just wanted to say again how wonderful it was to see you again. I know that you may not feel the same way, but I do hope that I can get to know the man you’ve grown into over time. (19:32) [ TO: J. ❤️ ] Thank you again for telling me your story. Take care of yourself, Jason. (19:33)

[helenahxnts]

When: Early March; evening. Where: Matchak; city streets. With: @beendeaddonethat

Helena had missed doing patrols. She’d always hated feeling idle, and coming to the Mousehole had compounded on that feeling. She’d found herself a fair few distractions, to be sure, but it hadn’t been the same. Especially after all her angry diligence in learning the language had paid off in a fair proficiency over the past couple months—which was welcome, but had left her with more free hours to kill.

So when they’d gotten the news that they could begin regular patrols, she’d volunteered immediately. 

It wasn’t Gotham, that was for sure. And it wasn’t as easy, when she wasn’t jumping between rooftops. But Helena would sacrifice a bit of expediency for safety. And they had enough numbers that they could all take smaller patches of city and stay covert. (Such numbers. Stark kept buzzing in her ear, annoying and amusing in equal turns.) So there she was, dressed in civilian clothing on an unseasonably warm evening, walking the streets and keeping an ear to the ground. 

And then, something familiar: the sound of fists on skin, the crack of bones. Someone in pain, and someone else who wasn’t stopping. Helena broke into a run towards the alley the sounds were coming from, pulling her crossbow from the concealed holster at her ribs; it clicked into position as she rounded the building’s edge. And pointed it directly at:

“You’re kidding me—Red Hood?” 

[dario-novak]

Where: Barbara Gordon’s apartment, Matchak When: Present day @beendeaddonethat​

It was common practice for Alfred to stop at Barbara’s apartment a couple of times a week to either drop off supplies and equipment, spend some time with Catsby, or simply put food in her fridge. He always did that, regardless of the real reason he was there, though today was a combination trip of all those things. He had a few supplies to leave there, some brownies and actual leftover meals he intended to leave in her fridge, and he would spend some time with the irascible cat with the rather ridiculous name. Alfred would never say that to Barbara, of course, one just accepted the names of other people’s animals, but surely she could’ve come up with something better. Regardless, his arms were rather full as he climbed the stairs, a box under one arm, a bag hanging off his wrist, and keys in one hand. While the Sokovian weather was starting to turn towards spring, Alfred found that he still felt the cold rather keenly so he was still wearing a long, warm coat and a scarf. 

Reaching her door, he juggled things around a little in order to be able to get the keys in the lock. Barbara was rarely home when he made these visits but he’d just come to see them as more of his duties extended outside of the Mousehole. The door finally open, he walked inside, expecting to find the apartment empty but for one grouchy cat. That was not what he found. Instead, there was already a light on and there was someone on the couch. Alfred tensed for a moment, regretting that he hadn’t thought to bring his umbrella gun until he recognized the figure on the couch, though it had been several years. 

“Master Jason.” The name left his lips as a sharp exhale and the surprise of it ruffled Alfred’s usual staunch composure. He wasn’t generally terribly expressive but seeing him so suddenly and unprepared had emotion flashing across his face. Surprise, relief, happiness, but also pain as it was impossible for the last time he’d seen him not to come rushing back in brutal clarity. Alfred had failed him, hadn’t been able to pull him back from the chasm he’d been watching Jason teeter over, and for a while they’d all thought he’d died because of that. It had taken Alfred a long time to reconcile that and he hadn’t truly forgiven himself. He was struck by the strong urge to both rush over and hug Jason as well as shake him until he agreed to come home. Alfred did neither. 

Swallowing, he tried to regain himself, though he couldn’t take his eyes off the other man as he moved to the counter to put the bag of food and the box down but he didn’t continue from there. Normally, he would have bustled about and put the food in the fridge and started writing Barbara a note but he was transfixed and trying to get a handle on his emotions. He had the strong feeling he was failing. “I trust you’ve been receiving my messages?” That seemed sort of neutral but also inane and of course he’d trusted Barbara to pass them along. Then he reprimanded himself for it and shook his head. 

“I’ll put on some tea.” He smiled, because he was glad to see him, in spite of everything else and this situation certainly required tea. “It’s good to see you.” It was quiet, sincere. He wasn’t one for emotional displays but he had a feeling there would be an exception to that rule, possibly for this whole conversation. 

[ravaging-rose]

@beendeaddonethat

𝙴𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚗 𝙱𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝙴𝚞𝚛𝚢𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 // 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚜.

[oracleisonline-a]

@beendeaddonethat​ March 2021. Her eyes were starting to cross, and Barbara sighed as she blinked hard, trying to clear her vision as she typed with one hand, the other holding her cell phone up to her ear. She squinted slightly as she fixed her glasses, swearing under her breath. “Dad, stop. Stop.”  She was snappy, much snappier than usual considering she was always so damn patient with her father. “Look, I’m fine, okay? I’m just -- I’m sorry. I’m tired.” An understatement, surely, considering the last stretch of sleep she’d gotten had been...two hours? Maybe three? Less than usual, that was really all she knew. It was late, really late, and it was getting hard to focus on the screen in front of her, let alone do that and participate in a conversation that she’d been dreading. She knew that her father would call, knew that he’d try to make a big deal, knew that in Gotham-time it had now been five years since what was arguably the worst day of her life and that he would want to check in, to talk about it, but that was the opposite of what she wanted. Now-familiar noise behind her had Barbara glancing over her shoulder, a reminder that she wasn’t alone, and she was even more eager to put an end to this conversation. “I don’t need to talk about it.” Didn’t want to, either. “And I’ve got a million things going on,” certainly true, but more of an excuse to get off the phone, “so I’ll call you back later, okay?” She didn’t give him much time to answer, hung up and dropped the phone back onto the surface of her desk. She groaned low under her breath, reached up, pushing glasses up her forehead to rub at her eyes with her hands. “Kind of forgot you were there, sorry.”

[redrobinrising]

@beendeaddonethat

Matchak’s markets were moderately busy in the evenings; just past five, when the sun was still halfway in the sky but not high enough to light the alleys anymore. It was a perfect time for browsing.

Which was not, in fact, the reason Tim came out here in the first place. Tim’s reasoning for leaving the relative safety of the Mousehole was actually kind of silly, when he thought about it - he just needed space. Room to think. If he happened upon a neat gadget to take home at the market, then so be it, but as it was he was far too lost in his own head to take much stock of the items around him.

He managed to avoid looking too much like a tourist with a bland grey hoodie that looked just like everyone else’s bland grey everything. Which would surely turn into a lifesaver as he entered the seedier section of the markets, where the locals’ eyes turned a little darker, their faces a little less open.

Nothing could ever compare to the back alleys of Gotham, but something about the age of this place seemed... familiar. Tim shoved his hands into his pockets and kept on walking, deeper into the bowels of the city markets.

[maybemaybemartian]

Late one snowy night, before M'gann finishes up at work, there's a creak, a gust of wintery wind, and a thud from the streetside book slot. There, fallen on top of the day's returns, is a new, Sokovian copy of Ježeva Kućica. But that's not all. Between its pages - left peeking out just enough to attract notice from someone as detail-oriented as M'gann - is over a hundred thousand Euros in small bills. Enough to make quite a difference to a recovering library...

She felt Jason nearing the library, but he was gone before she made it up the stairs from the archive room. As if he’d changed his mind. Seemed like something Jason might do. 

There something in the book drop, though.

M’gann startled as she picked it up, dropping the little children’s book and letting the bills fly everywhere until she froze the entire returns section in place. She stood there. Eyes wide, money paused midair around her. And then it all zipped back into her hands. Her heart was racing. Yes, this seemed like something Jason might do. 

[spoilingstephanie]

Some people are just born to fight, I think.

It’s not that they’re born brave. It’s not that they’re born strong. It’s just that the universe has decided that this one, this one will have grit and fire and steel in their blood. And it’ll be tested, this cosmic mettle of theirs. They’ll face trial after trial, be broken and damaged in countless ways. 

But this one was born to fight. Maybe it’s not the life they would have chosen. Maybe they’d love to lay down their arms. But they were born to fight. It’s what they know. It’s what they do best. It’s all they can do. x @beendeaddonethat

[ravaging-rose]

@beendeaddonethat​

“ -- So here’s the thing.” Rose plopped into the seat across from him, a table at one of the local outdoor cafes, without any hesitation. Cigarette between the middle and pointer fingers of her right hand, she took a quick drag before continuing to speak. “-- I’ve been tracking some runners, and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of where their safehouse might be. I’ve been doing my research since getting into Matchak, and well, I’ve had some help.” She tapped her forehead with a wide, lazy grin as she leaned back in the chair. Her foresight was hepful at times, and this had certainly been one of those times. Not oly had she had flashes of the runners she’d been tracing for a few weeks, but had had a flash of Red Hood giving her a hand with things. She hadn’t known Jason was in Sokovia, though probably should have guessed, what with the rest of everyone else she’d been running into lately. A few puffs from her inhaler to help her along and sure enough her vision went white in the way it always did before she saw the future, and she saw Jason Todd right where he sat right now.

“But the thing is, I can’t exactly do it as Ravager -- it’s complicated, I’m on a few lists, blah blah blah. You know how it goes.” She waved the hand with the cigarette in it before bringing it to her lips again. Except he couldn’t really know how it goes, considering she was with the ISA now. Rose Wilson had sold to the highest bidder. Any and all mercenary work was absolutely outlined as a big no-no in her contract, but... 

“So, whatcha say? Up for a good, ol’ fashioned drug ring bust?” That smile was still in place, and Rose sat up now in her chair, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table. “Also, hey. Long time no see. Glad to see you made it out of Malta, that got kinda sketchy at the end there.”

[oracleisonline-a]

@beendeaddonethat Barbara was trying to play nice, and really, she wasn’t always very good at that. Her usual team knew how she was, knew how she operated. The merge was....going, and that was the best way she could put it. She was trying to be friendly, and well, the alcohol helped with that when she didn’t exactly like some of her new people. She may have overdone it, but she wasn’t a drinker so that wasn’t really surprising. Was this a good idea? Probably not considering she was struggling with the use of her thumbs, but really, logical thought had left the building.  📩 this is usuaally teh part wherbe i ask what time it is there 📩 but i knw that because we’re in t he same tiemzone for once! 📩 and i know youre up ebcasie it’s like 10pm 📩 so hi