#jason: if I say no to that question assume it is an imposter and shoot on sight

[fcthots]

Jason Todd is the living embodiment of that one meme. Allow me to elaborate.

You: Hey I’m ab to get in the shower. You wanna join me?

Jason: There’s a pistol taped underneath the island in the kitchen. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to shoot me. Aim for the head, don’t stop until I’m dead.

[fractualized]

It's that time again: thoughts on The Man Who Stopped Laughing #5!

Spoilers below, of course, and a reference to suicide and some definite body horror.

If there was one thing I didn't expect this issue to start with, it's Joker emulating his boyfrenemy.

The implied bat pun. The exposed midriff. … I def saw fan art like this once.

So it's been a few days since Joker escaped the hospital, and his getup indicates he's been investigating who his imposter is (if he is an imposter). And now he's in one of his old hideouts wondering why the Mad Hatter has set up shop there.

And of course since the Mad Hatter is usually relegated to Creepy Weirdo, there are some unfortunate kids here. Joker isn't worried about their welfare, but I'm pretty sure Jervis soon won't be in a state to do them any harm.

Jervis says he got the key from Other Joker, who is back in town, and Jason's own investigation on where his clown quarry soon leads him to the same information, after ruining Killer Moth's night.

So the Joker who ran off to LA is still seen as the real one, and word has spread there's an imposter running around.

Uh oh! Whatever Jervis told Joker, it's leading him to a trap! But what helpful information for Ja— 

LOL Poor Moth.

Over in the trap, we see some fun effects with the speech bubble.

That's no reason for me to think Protag Joker is the real one but I do, okay, I'll take any hint

It's not a subtle trap, is it?

Joker looking at himself like 😍

And then…

Lmaoooooooooo of course he did. Joker smelled a trap, of course, and even got a lock to keep the other Joker inside so they could burn together. He says he doesn't want to die but boy does Joker always have doubtful ways of showing it.

There's an interlude with Jason and Stephanie, in which she talks about Bruce like he's in the city.

So I guess this takes place before the current Batman storyline. Or after. Or in some amorphous space. Maybe concurrently with the Punchline comic? Does DC actually give a crap about continuity?

Meanwhile back at the fire, the Other Joker's dialogue gets a little suspect.

Protag Joker's had a water gun this whole time, and I thought it had gasoline in it, but…

Well, acid works fine, and it gets him out of the cage. Though I assume he's not gonna jump out the new hole in the wall.

Back at the coffee meetup, we learn Bruce doesn't think Protag Joker is the real deal. :(

Which implies that Bruce is aware of the Joker situation and just left Other Joker to do his thing in LA?? That raises questions that I sure hope get answered, because huh??

The fire gets big enough for Jason and Stephanie to notice it, as Joker walks out of the building and tracks his double down an open grate.

I like the detail that Joker slides down the ladder. :)

And alright, here we go! Time to get some answers!

DAMMIT, JASON

Yeah, sure, Joker got run over by a train. See you next issue, buddy.

Well, I'm glad Jason got to shoot a Joker copy in a good comic.

Oh whoa WHOA! The answer! Other Joker has been Clayface all the long! Well, that's a little overdone, but I've been wanting to know—

DAMMIT, ROSENBERG! Why must you taunt me! 

But we end on this amazing beachside image:

Okay, I forgive you, Rosenberg. The speedo, the flowy robe, the hat, the muscled manservant with the fruity drink… Di Giandomenico, I love you.

So apparently Other Joker is going back to Gotham for real now, but the end-title implies we won't see a real Joker-to-Joker confrontation next month. :( But I can deal so long as I'm still having a fun time.

Alright, backer time: we have yet another woman Joker is trying to woo, and yet another strange way to produce Joker copies.

Here the uninterested woman is Giganta, and my interest in this trope is waning, not helped by this joke:

Joker's been pursuing women in most of these backers, and I've been able to set that aside because they're so ridiculous, but it makes it hard to see this pun as unconsequential. I'm gonna stare at that last panel in the main story to feel better.

There's no mpreg to be found in this backer, just Joker working regular jobs to convince Giganta he's not evil. And when that doesn't work…

He calls up Etrigan, who doesn't think making a clown not evil is a good use of his time.

Lol Etrigan's unfinished rhyme

The demon gets his revenge, though, when he tricks Joker into reading the wrong spell.

I put this into Google translate and got:

"that his hands, head, and feet may be destroyed by worms, cancer, and vermin, and his medulous members may be destroyed"

Which sorta tracks with what happens, which is that Joker grows as big as Giganta, and then we get some body horror!!

Giganta, uh, remains uninterested and leaves with Etrigan.

I guess we can look at it as all of Joker's evil squeezing out of him like popped zits. 😬 But the marks are still left behind and so are all the little vermin. But at least they're supportive?

I have a feeling Fox News won't be interested in this one.

[kudosmyhero]

Batman (vol. 1) #402:There's Nothing So Savage--As a Man Destroying Himself!

Read Date: June 29, 2023 Cover Date: December 1986 ● Writer: Max Allan Collins ● Penciler: Jim Starlin ● Inker: Jim Starlin ● Colorist: Daina Graziunas ● Letterer: John Costanza ● Editor: Dennis O'Neil ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● o_o …broke his neck?

● I haven’t read a lot of Jason Todd yet, but I know what becomes of him. I appreciate that there are pretty palpable differences between Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake. Damian Wayne, too, but I’m not a fan of his. ● sneaky bastard! that disguise of Batman got me good ● wow those bat-ears are LONG ● 👏👏👏

Synopsis: Two muggers named Roach and Spider brutalize a couple named Dick and Jane. Batman arrives and snaps both of their necks, killing them. He rides a motorcycle back to his garage, where it's revealed that this Batman is someone other than Bruce Wayne.

The real Batman responds to the Bat-Signal and swings over to GCPD Headquarters. Deputy Commissioner Barnes is waiting to arrest him for the murders, and the GCPD shoot at him as he escapes. Batman goes to visit the home of Jim Gordon, who explains that Barnes is trying to take over the department. A news report reveals that the two muggers killed were both murderers, previously released on a technicality. Batman tells Gordon to pretend to help with the manhunt so he can keep an eye on Barnes.

The next day, Bruce Wayne eats breakfast at Wayne Manor with Alfred Pennyworth and Jason Todd. Alfred investigates companies that sell Batman costumes, and finds that every one in the area has been stolen. Jason asks Bruce what's so wrong about killing criminals. Bruce tells him murder is a line they must not cross. Jason reminds him that he's killed before, and Bruce says this was in self-defense. "If we're no better than the lice who snuff out human life like it's worth nothing at all, then, well -- then it's time I hung up my cowl." Jason responds that he's still glad the crooks are dead, and Bruce says he is also but he's not proud of that.

Bruce Wayne visits a man named Howard Despond whose wife was killed by the muggers who died fighting Batman. He pretends to be there on Wayne Foundation business. Despond says nobody cared about his wife's death except the detective who took the muggers in.

More criminals are found dead the next night. This time it's an armed robber, who also previously escaped murder charges on a technicality. Batman poses as a reporter named Mr. Davis to ask Gordon questions about the murder right in front of Barnes. Gordon explains that all of the crooks who got off on technicality were arrested by a detective named Tommy Carma. Carma was once the youngest detective in the city, but his constant police brutality allowed many arrested criminals to go free. He snapped after his wife and daughter were killed by a hitman.

Batman goes out to pursue Carma, and tells Robin he must stay at home. He finds Carma's home address and meets his mother. She assumes that Batman is her son because he's wearing the same costume, and it's revealed that Tommy thinks he really is Batman. Tommy's mother tries to convince him that he's not Batman and what he's doing is wrong. Further inside, Batman finds a crime lab and a wall of newspaper clippings about Batman. Some of these clippings are about a man called the "Snuffer" who he believes was responsible for the death of Tommy's family. Gordon tells Batman where to find the Snuffer, who is currently about to go into witness protection.

Tommy Carma finds the Snuffer first and drops him out of a window. Batman arrives just in time to save the Snuffer. When the Snuffer thanks him he says "saving your life is the most disgusting thing I've done in a long time. Tommy hits Batman from behind and insists that the Snuffer does not deserve to live. They fight, and Tommy accuses Batman of being an imposter. Robin arrives and distracts Tommy, allowing Batman to knock Tommy out with a clean punch. Batman says he should be angry at Robin for disobeying orders, but he's glad they stopped Tommy before anyone else got hurt. The police arrive, and Batman decides to stay so he can clear his name. Robin asks why Batman didn't punch the guy out sooner, and Batman replies "It was hard to swing at him. After all, who am I but just another guy who thinks he's the Batman?"

(https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Vol_1_402)

Fan Art: Batman on Gargoyle by ardian-syaf

Accompanying Podcast: ● Batman Knightcast - episode 04

[scottishhellhound]

The sound of the grandfather clock clicking back into place, sealing the entrance to the Cave for the night, had the tension draining from Bruce's shoulders, letting them fall for the first time in what felt like hours.

5 days, 22 hours, 14 minutes, and 43 seconds. That's how long the Batman and various Robin's, past and present, had spent chasing the Joker and Two-Face around Gotham, after a breakout from Arkham.

They'd been caught several hours ago, but Bruce had told his family to head home, either to the manor or a safe house to get some well earned rest, and he'd take care of the reports.

3 hours later and he'd finally finished, and was heading up for some much needed rest of his own.

His assent up the large staircase was interrupted by the sound of a small crash, followed immediately by quiet, but heartfelt cursing, coming from the kitchen.

Bruce immediately ran through a mental tally of who could be awake in the manor beside himself.

Alfred was in bed. Had signed off once everyone had called in safe and sound, and no immediate medical emergencies reported for treatment. Cass had gone to crash at Stephanie's apartment. Dick and Tim were at the penthouse, and Damian had been sent home the night before, and benched, after almost falling off a roof in his exhaustion.

Which only left Jason.

But as far as Bruce knew, Jason had headed to his safehouse in the Bowery as soon as Joker had been brought down. Having retreated to calm himself down, Bruce assumed, away from his family's prying eyes and invasive questions.

His siblings meant well, but Jason preferred to not talk about his trauma unless he wished. And after direct and prolonged contact with a perpetrator of that trauma, Jay very much preferred to be alone.

Bruce turned on silent feet, pulling out one of Tim's collapsible bos as he passed one of the "weaponized plants".

He circled around to the far side of the kitchen, taking the long way around, entering through the old service entrance.

He stepped into the dimly lit kitchen, his last step loud in the silence, and three things happened at one. The smell of warm sugar hit his nose, he raised his borrowed weapon just in time to block the knife thrown at him, and dark blue eyes met teal across the dark expanse, as Bruce took in the picture of his second son in sleep pants, a tank top, and an apron, arm extended from the thrown knife.

"Shit! Jesus, B, warn a guy why dontcha."

"Sorry, I -"

Bruce just watched as Jason turned back to the stove, ignoring him - seemingly forgetting that he just threw a butcher knife at his father - and pick up a piping bag.

Bruce edged closer cautiously, leaning the bo against the wall, watching the tense line of Jason's shoulders, the stiff way he held himself, as he squeezed out batter into the pot of boiling oil. He took in the bandages on Jason's arms, the bit of white he could see peeking out through the arm of his shirt, hinting at injured ribs.

"Jason... what... what are you doing?"

Jason shoots him a look over his shoulder as he pipes another strip of batter out into the pot. "I'm making churros... what does it look like?"

"Why?"

The former Robin doesn't say anything for several moments as he grabs a set of tongs, and starts fishing cooked churros out of the pot, setting them on a prepared plate.

"Wanted a snack."

"And you decided to make churros?"

"I like churros."

Bruce heaves a heavy sigh as he reaches the island. It didn't used to be hard talking to Jason. It used to be easy, almost easier than talking to Dick at the same age had been.

But that was before the Joker. Before the Lazarus Pit, before the madness and blood of Jason's return.

However he was slowly coming back to the family, getting along better with his siblings. He and Steph got along like a house on fire, and Bruce still wasn't sure how he felt about that friendship quite yet. But he was working with them, instead of against them, and that alone was a miracle. He talked once a week at least with Alfred, helped Dick on cases, made sure Tim was surviving on more than energy drinks and coffee. The only one Jason seemed to still avoid was him; especially if none of his siblings were around.

But Jason was here, at the manor, knowing that everyone else had been sent to bed. There had to be a reason. Jason was a lot of things, reckless, brash, brave, but even his most reckless stunts always had a reason.

"Jay, it's four in the morning, what are you doing here?"

Jason stiffens immediately, blue-green eyes narrowing, and Bruce winces, knowing exactly how Jason would take that statement.

Rejection.

Bruce quickly holds up a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. "I'm sorry, that came out badly."

The apology brings Jason up short, Bruce can see him snap his mouth shut, biting back whatever his no doubt scathing reply would have been.

"What did you mean then? That line you always spouting about the major always bein' my home, no matter what a lie?"

"No, Jason. The manor is and will always be your home. We will always be your family. That is never a fact you need to doubt."

Both men stared in startled silence after Bruce's uncharacteristic outburst.

"Wow, B, that's...." Jason rubbed at the back of his neck as he turned away, a faint hint of red spreading across his face, ignoring Bruce for a moment, and turning off the stove. "You must be totally sleep deprived if you let all of that out." He turns back and Bruce fights back a grin of his own at the teasing smirk he sees on his son's face. "I'll have to tell Dickie the secret of getting you to open up is to not let you sleep for close to a week."

Jason hops up onto a stool at the island, placing a the plate of churros between them, dusting them with cinnamon sugar, before picking one up and biting into the still steaming dough.

Bruce watches as Jason sets the sugar down, and raises a surprised brow when he nudges the plate towards him. He grabs one along with a napkin from the stack that Alfred always keeps on the counter.

Bruce takes a bite, being careful not to burn himself, and can't help the small hum of appreciation as he chews.

"Jason, this is really good."

"Thanks, it's not much. Just a recipe I remember one of our neighbours making when I was a kid. She made mean Torrijas too."

The sat in companionable silence for a bit longer, both finishing their early morning snack.

Bruce wiped the sugar off his fingers before risking asking his question again. "Jay, what are you doing cooking at 4 in the morning? I thought you went to one of your safe houses?"

Jason stiffened again, hands balling into fists. Bruce watched as he took a breath, slowly relaxing his hands, though he was still tense, like he expected a blow at any moment.

"I don't mind that you're here, son, I just thought after all that happened, you'd want to be alone?"

"I was, I did, but...it was too quiet, but too loud at the same time. I could hear everything. Every drip of the pipes, every creak of wood, the traffic, the silence, and -" he cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head so hard it had to hurt. Bruce wanted so badly to reach for him, but knew from past experiences to not touch Jason when he was this worked up.

His next words were soft, so quiet Bruce barely heard them, but they made his heart break all the more for his Robin. "Everything sounded like his laugh, nothing could drown it out, so...I came here." Jason scrubbed a hand down his face. "I tried sleeping in one of the guest rooms for a bit, but that ended...badly. I didn't want to go down to the cave, and I didn't want to bug Alfie, but I needed something to keep my busy, so I just came down here and started cooking."

He shrugged, eyes fixed firmly on the plate of churros. "There's batter in the fridge for pancakes, a bunch of fruits cut up for toppings, and - " Bruce reached across the table, stopping Jason's rambling by placing his hand on Jason's, and squeezing gently. Bruce was surprised, but pleased, to see that despite how much Jason had grown without them to see, his hand was still just a bit smaller than his. Reminding Bruce that even though he was close to being an adult, could take care of himself, Jason was in many ways still a child, and he would always be his son. No matter how big he got.

"It's fine Jason. I don't mind. We all don't want to be alone sometimes. Even if we don't want to talk about the problem, doesn't mean we need to be by ourselves."

He squeezed his hand once more before letting go, standing and taking his plate and napkin to the sink.

"That...okay, who are you and what have you done with Bruce?" Jason snapped, voice hard and uncertain.

Bruce paused as he placed his plate in the sink, thinking on Jason's words. Did he really not talk to his kids about non-work things that often, that Jason's first thought is that he's an imposter?

He turned around to find Jason glaring at him, eyes hard, hand shaking around the knife he was holding.

Bruce immediately raised his hands, palms out. "I'm me Jason. I'm not an impostor, or being controlled, or a doppelganger or anything like that."

He took a slow, careful step back towards the island, making sure his gaze never strayed from Jason's face. "But I'm starting to realize I may owe you and your siblings an apology."

"Why?" Jason's face pinched tight, eyes dark with suspicion, as he watched Bruce retake his seat at the island.

"The fact that your first thought is that I've been replaced, tells me that I haven't been doing my job as your father as well as I should have been."

The knife dropped back to the island as Jason's hand goes slack, the clattering of plastic and metal echoing in the suddenly silent kitchen.

"Bruce that's - "

"Don't say that's not true Jay, we both know that that would be disingenuous at best."

"I didn't notice how much this whole thing affected you, when I should have known." He looked Jason in the eye then, not bothering to hide his regret. "You, who have lost the most to the Joker and Two-Face. If I didn't notice how much you were struggling, knowing that, what else have I missed? Not just with you, but with your brothers and sister?"

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, and letting his head rest against his palm, hiding his face now. "Dick has called me on it before, so have you, but I've refused to see it, and that's not okay either, and that its taken this, sleep deprivation, and the fact that after two years of coming back to us, that you still doubt your place here with us, with me, means I've failed."

It's so silent following his statement that Bruce thinks Jason must have left, and he wouldn't blame the boy either. So to say Bruce was startled when a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder, would have been an understatement. His head shot up, nearly colliding with Jason's jaw, and Jason took a hasty step back, other arm coming up across his chest, ready to block.

They both took a moment to reorient themselves and Jason inhaled deeply before speaking.

"It's not just on you, Bruce. I mean a lot of it's on you, and your conceal don't feel, bullshit life motto. But God knows I don't make it easy on you, neither do Tim, and the demon. We all know Cass is basically perfect," both men chuckled briefly. "And the only one of us well adjusted enough to talk about feelings is Dick, and even he's too much like you most days to talk about his own feelings. We're all to blame for this."

"So how do we fix it? Most people recommend counseling of some kind, but that won't work here, not with what we do."

Jason tilted his head in thought, forehead creasing like it used to when he was younger, still Robin, and was trying to puzzle out a Rogue's latest scheme.

Before Bruce could poke his forehead, tease him like he used to for thinking too hard, Jason's face paled and he looked at Bruce in horror.

"Jason, what is it?"

"All I can hear is Dick chanting "family bonding" in my head like deranged puppet, and the puppets not wrong."

Bruce's own face pulled into a frown as he tried to make sense of Jason's bizarre statement.

"Jay...I don't understand."

Jason waved his hands around as he tried to articulate his point. "You're worried about not being a good enough dad, we all have parent-issues, we don't talk because none of us feel like a family unless we're out on the streets punching criminals in the face. Which is great for working out frustration, but not for actually handling issues."

Bruce caught on then, realizing where Jason's thoughts were heading. "We don't do enough as a family outside of the masks...you're right, this is Dick's dream come true."

"Movie night." Both men looked at each other as they spoke the words together, before dissolving into laughter muffled behind hands.

Bruce stood once he got himself under control several minutes later, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder.

Jason glanced at it, before looking up and offered Bruce a small smile.

"I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass, sometimes."

Bruce smiled back, then reached up and ruffled his boys hair, ignoring the indignant squawk Jason made in protest. "Well, as Alfred would say, you come by it honestly. I taught you to fight, for this city and your family, it's only fair I passed on some of my less admirable traits as well."

They left the kitchen and headed back towards the big staircase in comfortable silence, pausing when they'd reached the top.

"I'm sorry too Jay, for lot of things. I'm going to try and do better. With you and your siblings. I'm going to make mistakes, and I'm probably going to make a bigger mess of things before I get it right, but I'm going to try. "

Jason stared at him eyes wide before he seemed to come to an internal decision, face hardening. Before Bruce could say a word Jason was stepping into him, head dropping onto his shoulder, and arms wrapping around him.

Bruce was rigid for all of two seconds before returning the hug from his second son, something he never thought he'd get again willingly outside of life and death situations.

"That's all I-we want Bruce, is for you to try."

Bruce tightened his arms around him, bringing one hand up to cup the back of Jason's head, holding on for as long as Jay would let him.

"I think I can do that."

[thcpariiah]

file: the_deceiver.docx

                  TAGGING __ // STUART TWOMBLY, ALEKSANDER PATEL                   LOCATION __// TOPSIDE ( HANDICAP OFFICE )                   TIME _ FRAME ___//  PART OF ‘THE IMPOSTER’ EVENT, DIRECTLY AFTER THE “CONCRETE STREET SKIN” SELF PARA                   INPUT_SUMMARY…?__//    When Stuart goes to turn himself in in lieu of Stiles, he’s not expecting Aleksander to be one of the ones at the office -- an individual he knows has met both himself, and Stiles, and will likely be able to make his entire plan fall apart. [ CHATZY LOG ]

Stuart

Panic had bubbled and swirled in his stomach the moment that he had seen Stiles on the top of the Most Wanted list. It had been a risk, in more than one way, when Stiles had removed his handicap. He knew that. For his physical well being, it could've ​killed him.​ But, the witch also knew that the druid differed from him when it came to problem solving skills -- that Stiles typically jumped into the situation and thought of the complications that could arise later. It didn't actually seem to be Stiles' fault that he was exposed; Stiles had been using the faux handicap that Stuart had crafted for himself. For all intents and purposes, unless seen by someone who spent a lot of time around them on a more work-orientated level, it passed pretty flawlessly. Stuart was just currently not to keen on going Topside after his run in with Camden, and he had planned that if he ​did​ decide to return to Topside, he would craft himself a new one.

That, however, all changed now that Stiles was exposed.

Stiles was much more of a valuable asset for ​Le Chassé​ than he was, at least in Stuart's eyes. And there were far more people who would be effected by Stiles' disappearance than his own. ( Even if his heart still broke for the hurt he knew Allison would feel once she found out after what had transpired the night prior. )

He composed himself for a good half an hour nearby in a hidden alleyway, raking both hands worriedly through his hair before he finally got his heart to a level that he could ​breathe​ without it choking him. Albeit, when he walked into the Handicap Office, he had to once again swallow his emotional reaction and stomp back down his erratic heart. He didn't ​give it any thought​, that the government man he had met on the surface as Stiles would be in the office. But, there he sat -- ( Alek, right? ) sitting next to a man he didn't recognize. The unknown man was burly and large and had far too many weapons on his person to make Stuart comfortable. The muscle, he assumed. Probably didn't know much about the working of everything, but was paid enough to not need to. ​But​, if he didn't get past Aleksander, everything would fall apart. He would still be taken in, and Stiles ​and Noah​ would still be in danger.

He swallowed that all down in a beat of a moment, walking up to the desk and clearing his throat to gain their attention. "I'm Mieczyslaw Stilinski," he started. And, despite his brother's name being more complicated than his own, it still fell off his tongue easily and sounded natural. "I'm here to turn myself in so that you'll let my father go." He almost flinched at that -- ​almost​. It was unnatural, saying ​father​ when referencing Noah, when he hadn't even met the man and was still unsure if Stiles had told Noah that Stuart was even here.

Aleksander

There was a point in his life when Aleksander realized that he wouldn't be okay with everything that was happening by his own hands. He knew that there would be a chance that he would disagree with his peers- that there would be ​something​ something that would set him apart from the others and risk his job. He knew that there would some things not even he could let slide. He tried to tell himself that he hadn't reached that point. Taking in a prisoner that had done nothing wrong, simply because his son was a criminal? That was definitely past a line that Aleksander ever wanted to cross, and yet it was no reason for him to stop what he was doing.

They had cross examined Noah, but the answers had been exactly as expected. He didn't know anything about Le Chasse. He didn't know Stiles' whereabouts. They wouldn't get anything out of the father, though his peers knew that just as well as he did.

Aleksander had his own office, but he liked to spend a lot of time out with the others. He wasn't in charge, but his authority could be deemed as threatening unless he made them believe that he was just like the rest of them. It was that kind of viewing that would gain him votes, whenever he decided to run for the Presidency. That was where he was, when ​the other​ walked in. Ironically, it wasn't just Aleksander that was making rounds, gathering the information that he needed for the day. Jason Stansgard, commander of the special task force, was with him as well. They had been mid conversation when the other walked in, but the entire office fell silent the moment he walked in. Aleksander pretended not to notice, but Jason watched the boy like a hawk. His hand was inching towards his gun belt, Alek noted.

"Mieczyslaw," he tasted the words, letting his eyes examine the other. Coldly. There was no doubt. With the way he carried himself, with the constellations of moles dotting his skin... this wasn't Stiles. And yet. "Weren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

Stuart

His eyes didn't miss the way the bigger man's hand went for his belt. Stuart had ​no intentions​ of trying to fight unless this went south. He didn't want to do anything that would endanger Stiles -- or Noah -- further. He knew that the man before him was armed to the neck with all different kinds of weapons. Weapons to take down almost any supernatural creature. And while he was not Stiles, his abilities likened his in the way that whatever would take down Stiles -- it would take down Stuart as well.

He let his eyes linger on the man for a moment longer, mostly because he was actually afraid to make eye contact with Aleksander. Albeit, when the man spoke, he was forced to give him his attention once more -- drawing in a long breath that made his chest expand as he bounced the other's words around in his head. Bounced around the way that the man was ​looking at him.​ There was no doubt in his mind that this man ​knew​ that he wasn't Stiles, and it made his throat go dry. "I guess that's entirely subjective to who you ask."

Aleksander

Aleksander had already made his mind up on the other, knowing that his first instinct would always be the right one. Logic came easily to him- enough that it was ridiculously simple for him to put almost everything together. "I suppose it is," he said simply, holding his hand out for Jason. The bulkier man slipped a pair of cuffs into his hands, drawing out a weapon with his other hand. He had no intention to shoot, Aleksander was sure. After all, Stiles was wanted alive, not dead.

These cuffs weren't standard. They were thicker, designed specifically for those with the M restriction. Aleksander moved around the desk with them in hand, raising his eyebrows as if to dare the other to react. He wasn't Stiles, and yet the man had every intention of taking him in despite that.

Stuart

His heart was hammering a wild cadence in his chest that almost made him sick -- but, Stuart had schooled himself over the years to keep himself, his reactions and his expression, entirely separate from his emotions. It was ​never​ that he didn't feel them, because he did, but he kept them disconnected from how he acted and how he expressed himself. It was a dangerous matter if he mixed high emotions to anything higher than what they were on surface value -- or else he could totally lose control of his magic.

There was a strange balance of both ​intense fear​ and ​relief​ when he watched Aleksander take the larger cuffs from the bulky muscle. They were bigger than standard cuffs, and he assumed that it was to restrict his magic. That in itself made him nervous, since he had never been Handicapped -- he never knew what it was to be without his magic. It was ​always​ something he could fall back on. The corner of his lips twitched with this realization, but as Aleksander came around the corner, the only reaction he gave to the challenging look was to place his hands behind his back.

Aleksander

Aleksander crossed the way easily, snapping the cuffs on without any further hesitation. He didn't know how it felt, being handicapped, but he truly did think it was for the better. Having powers that could alter everything, having extra strength or agility, or being able to turn yourself into a weapon-- those things weren't good for the public. Detaining people like Stiles was for the greater good, even if he wasn't sure if a greater good truly existed.

"Take him down to the holding cell," he said, once he was sure the handicaps were secured on Stuart's hands. "I'll meet you down there in a couple of minutes." He had to finish up one little thing, but he had a few things he wanted to ask with Stuart. Jason met his eye and nodded, and Aleksander knew that he'd be taken to their small little cell. There, he could ask his questions, before Stuart was sent to the prison.

Stuart 

When the cuffs clicked around his wrists, he felt his heart drop into his chest. Part of him wanted to try and tap into his powers -- but he knew better, on the other hand. He swallowed so hard that his throat burned, stumbling when the man grabbed him roughly. In his opinion, it was much too rough for someone who wasn't putting up a fight, but he supposed the man wanted to keep up appearances.

He man drug him out of the main office and down a too bright hallway before taking him into a small room with just a table and two chairs. "-- you don't exactly have a comforting touch, do you?" He bit out hoarsely. The man didn't give any indication that he even heard him.

He forced Stuart into the chair, taking a pair of standard cuffs to secure his hands to the back of the chair -- his bolted to the ground while the other wasn't -- before leaving the room and leaving Stuart there to wait for Aleksander.

Aleksander

Aleksander was another five minutes before he could head down to the holding cell, but Jason was standing outside the door dutifully. "I won't be too long," He told the man, pushing his way into the room. It was a simple room, two chairs and a table, just enough to ask a few questions before the transport team was allowed to arrive. They rarely ever got to see this room, mostly because they were taken straight to the prison if allowed.

Stuart was seated in the chair furthest from the door, his arms secured behind his back. Every moment with him was another moment to solidify the thought that no, this wasn't the man he claimed to be. Stiles Stilinski was somewhere else in Beacon Hills, still able to cause havoc. "Who are you?"

Stuart

Stuart didn't look up from his spot glaring at the table until Aleksander was fully in the room and speaking to him -- and even then, it took him a moment to bring amber up to the other. He had to force himself to not squint -- the older man out of focus without his glasses, but he was growing more and more used to the hazy vision that resided when he would go Topside and allude as his twin.

Eyebrows drew inwards as he tipped his head to the side, attempting to not let the illusion slip through his fingers even if he ​knew​ that -- with Aleksander -- that illusion was nothing more than grains of sand already in the air. "What kind of question is that?"

Aleksander: Aleksander eyed the boy, approaching the table. Oh, it was so dreadfully obvious, and Aleksander wasn't interested in playing this little game. "You know exactly what I mean. We both know you aren't Stiles and you aren't going to fool me." He kept his tone the same as it always was, because even something like this held no excitement. The only thing that mattered to him was the ​why​ and he didn't have an answer for that. Why was he letting this difference slide by? He wasn't entirely sure.

Stuart

Stuart leveled his gaze at the other male, eyes raking over him for a few long moments. He was too eerily still in this moment, anyway, to be Stiles. Stiles, by this point, would've smarted the man off in more ways than Stuart could probably even ​think​ of in his lifetime. Stuart hadn't been expecting someone like ​Alek​ to be here when he turned himself in.

He let out a long breath that made his chest heave before he was dropping his eyes, something in his body relenting visibly, " -- are you still going to release Noah?" he finally asked, " -- if I tell you, will you still let his father go?"

Aleksander

"Yes." The words came out of his mouth before he allowed himself to truly think about it. If he were any other man, he'd be lying. Jason, or Nate, or any of the other men who worked alongside him. They'd tell Stuart that they'd free Noah, get their answers, and continue to keep the man locked up to lure out the real Stiles. If he was ruthless, or cunning, or actually cared about the things he was fighting for, he would do exactly that.

But Aleksander didn't care about the cause, he was just doing his job. Though, in actuality, he wasn't even doing his job right now. He was satiating his own personal curiosity. "You have my word. As far as anyone else is concerned, you are Stiles." And he wasn't lying about that.

Stuart

He regarded the other man for a long moment -- and he almost debated asking the man ​why.​ Wondering what his motivation was to so easily lie when it could just be easier to keep them both and continue hunting for Stiles. But -- Stuart didn't want to push his luck. He knew better to when to hold his tongue than his twin did; inhaling sharply -- so roughly that it burned his lungs and his chest.

After a long, long moment of silence, he was finally speaking -- tearing his eyes away from the man to focus on a spot on the table so he didn't lose his nerve. "I was born here in Beacon Hills as Dymek Stuart Stilinski. If you look for that name, you'll find records of a baby that died barely over a week old. My legal last name is Twombly. I was raised in Del Mar, California; I was adopted. ​That​ you can also verify by searching my records."

Aleksander

Aleksander's eyes glazed over for a moment as the boy decided what he was going to do. There were a couple explanations that flitted through his mind at the sight of him, but the most logical seemed to match up pretty evenly with what was the actual truth. Shapeshifter didn't seem right, because why would a shapeshifter cover for Stiles? All of his knowledge never showed any shapeshifter in this town, let alone one that cared enough about the Stilinski boy.

Twin was the most logical. Though, according to his information, that boy was dead.

The thing that shocked him the most wasn't that he was somehow alive, or that he somehow made it back to Beacon Hills (though he assumed he was still a part of Le Chasse. After all, it was likely he had the same powers as Stiles.) No, the thing that shocked him was where he was raised. Del Mar... the same place as his sister. "Okay," he said in response, not even bothering to hide the thoughts flitting through his head.

Stuart

Once he finished talking was when he finally raised his eyes to the other -- taking in his reaction. Curiously enough, the most surprise from the other came from the information of where he was raised. After all, Stuart wasn't sure if Akilah and Alek grew closer after his susposed death -- especially after they both got jobs in the government fighting for the same side. Even if his sister was now ... emotionally compromised. He hoped that Akilah didn't dig enough to discover what he did. But, his hope was in vain because it would be all over the news that the sheriff's son turned himself in; and Akilah would know better.

Instead of focusing on that, his wrists twisted slightly in the crude and bulky cuffs. "-- don't worry. These work just as well on me as they would Stiles--" he breathed, not too keen on trying to test them.

Aleksander

Aleksander had a lot of questions and the need to know everything. Even more than that, he had quite a bit of concerns. If Akilah knew who this boy was, there was a chance that her ob could be compromised. After all, she grew much more attached to people than he would like. Nonetheless, he wasn't going to ask the boy about it. If he knew Akilah, it was possible that he didn't know she was here, or even working for the government. He'd like to keep that way.

"I figured it was hereditary, since you haven't attempted an escape yet. You've already got what you wanted, after all." Noah had been ordered for release already, though Stuart wouldn't know that he knew it was safe to assume.

Stuart

He let out a long breath at that, his eyes still focused on the table instead of the man beside him. ​What you wanted.​ Stuart honestly wasn't sure exactly what it was he was wanting. Noah's release? Stiles' safety? Yes -- but at this cost? It wasn't the best decision he had ever made in his life -- and he was already anxious and ​afraid​, a feeling Stuart was not overly familiar with, with whatever was to come for him. What they would do to him -- believing he was Stiles. What they would do to try and draw out whatever information that they wanted from him. But -- them not actually knowing ​what​ he truly did for ​Le Chassé​, even if they did learn he wasn't Stiles ... -- it was a blessing. If they knew he was ​The Pariah​, he was sure that it would have been much worse.

" -- why are you doing this?" he finally asked. The one thing he had in common with this man was a strong sense of ​curiosity.​ Why was this man, who did his job so well, lying for him? True -- they still got Stuart in custody in lieu of Stiles ; but, Aleksander could've easily ratted him out and continued to search for Stiles without releasing Noah.

Aleksander

Alexsander could feel his own brain spinning at the question that Stuart then asked. Of course his thoughts supplied him with the thoughts that, perhaps, Stuart was asking about something else. Why he was working for the government, or why he was letting the other know that he ​knew​ he wasn't Stiles. But no, he knew what Stuart was truly asking and there was no point in playing coy. He wasn't very good at that, anyways. "Why does anybody do anything?" He asked, not even intending to sound so discreet. He wasn't even entirely sure himself. Perhaps it was his own connection (or lack, thereof) to his family. Perhaps it was a kindness he didn't even realize he had.

He shrugged, his expression going slack once more.

Stuart

He looked the male over for a moment longer, a low breath escaping his lips. The man was hard to read, and Stuart was not used to that. He was used to being able to - at least by face value - pick someone apart and at the very least ​assume​ what their motivations behind their actions were. But this man .. - he was different. And despite how well he knew Akilah -- Aleksander operated differently than his sister. If he didn't know from their past, he almost wouldn't even believe that the two were related.

The look that crossed over the witch's features was almost unreadable before he was letting out a soft breath, turning his eyes away once more and twisting his wrists in the uncomfortable restraints. " -- did you need anything else from me?" he finally asked quietly.

Aleksander

Aleksander shook his head, surprised to see this brief look of fear in Stuart's eyes. This boy reminded him of himself in some ways, but he wasn't quite able to hide the apparent discomfort. No, this boy probably functioned on a different level than him, he was decent at masking it.

"No," Alek replied, moving to hover by the door. Of course there were other things he could have asked, but it seemed pointless at this time. Nothing was urgent, nothing he truly wanted to bring to light as a concern for the enemy. Anything else would be asked by the interrogators. "Anything else we need will be worked out of you, one way or another."