batmanschmatman | 064 [voice]

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064 [voice]

[Dick's voice is very flat and very depressed. He can't really deal right now.]

Costigan's gone. Off the Barge. I'm not - I'm not sure if he's coming back.

[Meaning, his item's stopped responding to him and there's no sign of him anywhere, and Dick has so many sads. He pauses for a moment like he's going to say something else, but turns off the feed instead.]

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Don't tempt me.

[He's only half aware he said it, muttered quietly in sort of a half sigh, turning away to wipe sweat off his forehead.]

[Yeah, he's just going to punch you in the face, Dick.

Enjoy that.]

[Well. That was uh. Unexpected.

At least his jaw isn't broken. :|

It catches him so off guard he drops like a stone, and he is just going to lay there until the world stops spinning. And then he is getting up and tying to kick your ass.]

[Good luck with that, Dick.

He's just going to sidestep and knock you flat on your ass again until you take the hint.]

Edited 2011-09-08 03:58 (UTC)

[That might. Take a while. Because he is pushing himself up and going right in to deliver another punch.]

['Stubborn kid.'

Slade avoids the blow neatly and delivers one of his own, punching Dick hard in the gut.]

[Which immediately knocked the wind out of him. Dick gasped and collapsed, flat on his back, wheezing. For a second, he almost thought he'd been shot again, because it was hard to breathe and he was panicking even as he was trying not to, and he coughed violently, still trying to stay calm. After a moment, his breath evened out, but he didn't bother getting up just yet. He was sore almost to the point of just being numb, and he didn't feel like moving.]

[Slade stares down at the prone figure, a hint of distaste coloring those chiseled features.

'Pathetic.']

On your feet, Grayson.

[Hard and unyielding.]

We're not done.

Edited 2011-09-08 04:44 (UTC)

Why, so you can keep beating the crap out of me?

[It was a quiet grumble without actual venom - since after all, that was more or less what he wanted - and he was already pushing himself up, facing Slade and ready for the next blow.]

We're not?

Edited 2011-09-08 04:47 (UTC)

No.

[And sure enough, the attack comes -- a kick this time.]

You're sulking.

Yeah, well - [He's ready for it and blocks the blow, before bringing up a fist, aiming to hit him in the good eye.]

I've had a really shitty couple weeks.

['Good.'

Blowing the punch (honestly, it's been tried so many times before), Slade moves to grab Dick's arm and slam him into the ground.]

You and everyone else.

[There's a moment where he considers trying to twist out of it, but deciding against dislocating a shoulder - again - he rolled with it, hitting the ground lightly and flipping back on his feet, jumping up and intending on jabbing him with his elbow.]

I'm not complaining about them needing some time to sulk.

[Another block -- the kid's getting better.

Still.]

They're not suicidal.

[And yeah, there's another punch coming your way, Dick.]

[He dodges and throws a kick at him, aiming for his stomach.]

Neither am I.

[Not anymore, anyway, all evidence to the contrary. During the gang war? Yep. When he'd run away and joined the mob? Definitely. When he'd joined Slade as Renegade? Yeah. Now? No. Now, he was just messed up.]

[Slade twists a bit and lashes out with a kick of his own.]

You've been there.

[He remembers.]

[He threw himself to the side, rolling away and quickly springing to his feet, moving to try sweeping Slade's feet out from underneath him.]

Yeah. [No use denying it.] But I'm not that person anymore, Slade.

[He leaps over Dick's head this time, landing neatly before attempting a particularly vicious strike.]

Then stop acting like it.

[He dodged, using Slade's own momentum as a distraction and slammed his fist into his face, much as Slade had done to him only a few minutes before.]

Okay.

[It hurts.

That's his thought as he hits the ground, but really, it's secondary to what he's actually feeling -- the truth that he can never tell.

Looking up at Dick, he rubs his jaw, a curious glint in that singular blue eye. Flipping back on his feet, he attacks again. Once he feels Dick is responding the way he should consistently, he'll stop.]

[Dick's attitude is different as he reenters the fight. He's not depressed so much as angry, with himself and with Slade for acting like he knew what he was trying to do and being sort of right about it. But he wasn't the same person he'd been almost three years ago, and he's not whatever the hell he's like in the future, and he's tired of people putting him in a box and deciding they know what he should or shouldn't be doing.

So he just goes with it, blocking hits, taking the few he's not fast enough for, but fighting back just as aggressively, but not stupidly. He's more in the zone, more focused, and more himself than he was before.]

[The difference is noticeable, encouraging him to be more creative with his moves. To the untrained eye, he's doing little more than trying to gain the upper hand; to the select few who actually know him well, his actions would be more nuanced -- an attempt keep the younger man on his toes and draw him out of the cage of self-pity and depression that he's built for him.

It takes a while, but eventually he steps back, winded despite himself. He says nothing for a long moment, searching the other's face until he finds what he's looking for.]

Tomorrow.

Edited 2011-09-09 03:15 (UTC)

[He stops immediately, still tense and ready for another attack - this time expecting another blow to the face or something - and while he's winded, sore and his jaw is already bruising, like hell is he backing down from this right now.

But when it's clear that Slade is done here, his hands slowly dropped to his sides, some of the tension easing from his face.]

Okay.

[He holds Grayson's gaze a moment longer, appraising and curiously...expectant. Then, without a word, he turns to leave.

He's done here.]

[Dick lingers a while longer, rubbing a hand over his slightly swollen jaw and wondering what the hell they were doing here. A huge part of him still hated Slade, and always would, but another... sort of pitied him. He didn't want to think Slade was a monster, even if part of him always would.

It was complicated. And rather than deal with it, he took out his communicator, checking his unread messages and getting ready to pretend like everything was fine.]

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064 [voice]

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