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[sub][ [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5017481]Prev[/url] ]  [color=#9fc5e8]“[b]FEAT OF CLAY[/b], Part XII”[/color] [ [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5034113]Next[/url] ][/sub][/center][COLOR=steelblue][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]T H E    B A T C A V E[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=goldenrod]April 9th, 1970[/color][/sup][/INDENT]
[i][color=#9fc5e8]Alfred’s voice stopped him before he could even move.[/color][/i]

[color=silver][i]“You’re not going anywhere like that, young man.”[/i][/color]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]The boy wonder was snatched back from the stairs that led up to the mansion proper. The elf-like boots splashed in the puddle that had already formed where he stood. They’d caught a sudden downpour while out on patrol. The sudden rise in temperatures had brought with it a surprising amount of rainfall as spring started to thaw New Jersey.[/color][/i]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]Alfred was merciless and efficient as he peeled the wet clothes from off the trembling youth. In short order, Dick had been stripped completely bare. He fidgeted with his hands held awkwardly down in front of himself. The cold stone floor was painful to step on with bare feet, causing him to dance back and forth. [/color][/i]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]Bruce just abandoned the boy to his fate. Moving on to the Batcomputer without so much as a word. A trail of water marked his path from the car to the computer, though neither the seeping rain permeating their costumes nor the chill inside the cave seemed enough to budge the stoic guardian.[/color][/i]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]A robe was thrown over his shoulders. Alfred grabbed the boy’s arms, pulling them away from where he’d been trying to safeguard his modesty to fit them into the sleeves of the garment. [/color][color=silver]“There’s a warm bath for you upstairs,”[/color] [color=#9fc5e8]the butler stated, in his usual crisp manner. As Alfred started to gather up the boy wonder’s wet articles of clothes that now littered the cave floor, the butler locked a commanding glare on the youth as he stated,[/color] [color=silver]“Go there directly.”[/color][/i]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]Dick actually jumped at that.[/color][/i]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]Nothing in his life made any sense to him any more. His parents were dead. He was the foster kid to Bruce Wayne, a mysterious man who barely seemed to have more than two words for him. They lived in the same house and still it felt like there were miles between them.[/color][/i]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]And then there was the butler, who seemed to be the only one who genuinely cared for him -- but was more frightening than the Batman could ever hope to become when he got like this![/color][/i][/indent]
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[b][color=#ffd700]BLÜDHAVEN[/color][/b]
[b][i][color=#ffd700]Present Day[/color][/i][/b]

[indent][color=silver]The toy wonder looked like a drowned rat.

Clumps of what was likely bits of Matthew Hagan were smeared across his skin and clothes. Rips in the fabric gave evidence of the struggle that had taken place between Jason and Clayface before the building fire suppression system had kicked in, dumping gallons of water on both of them. 

The black hair was plastered against the doll’s scalp. The red suit was waterlogged, the water repellant treatment on the fabric either overwhelmed or defeated by the volume.

Dick had met the new Robin on the landing that was just inside the skylight that supplied entry into the condominium. The sight of the boy had brought back memories of himself. A different Dick Grayson. A [i]younger [/i]Dick Grayson. A long time ago, in what might as well have been a galaxy far, far away.

A puddle of water had already formed beneath Jason, though unlike the recollection of himself at that age, the doll began undressing himself the moment that Dick had started to remove the cape from around his shoulders. Instead of trying to fight or resist the butler that was stripping him bare, Jason casually peeled off one article at a time before passing them over to Dick so that the soiled, wet costume could be deposited into the laundry basket.

When he’d finished, the bare doll actually did a cartwheel. [color=#ffd700]“So that was Clayface?”[/color] Jason asked, popped upright and just starting up a conversation. [color=#ffd700]“He didn’t seem that tough,”[/color] the boy added, putting a few punches in the air.

Unlike Dick at that age, [b]modesty[/b] was definitely [i]not[/i] one of Jason’s hang-ups.

Placing a hand on the doll’s head, Dick noted wryly, [color=#9fc5e8]“You look like you still have some Clayface on you.” [/color] Tousling the wet clump of hair atop the doll’s head, the man moved his hand to the boy’s shoulder and nudged him away. [color=#9fc5e8]“Go jump in the bath.”[/color]

Spinning around, the doll performed another cartwheel, this time blending the motion into backflip before dropping into a [i]Naruto run[/i] and dashing off inside of the house.

With a sigh, Dick watched as Jason disappeared around a corner. He was tired from just watching the boy. A dull ache moved through his back, as the man bent down to retrieve the laundry basket that now contained a puddle of Clayface and torn parts of Jason’s Robin costume. The cape, boots, gloves, and mask were probably salvageable. The tunic was going to get burned. The trousers? Maybe.

One of the first things that Dick had discovered when he’d moved out on his own was that he’d never had to learn how to do his own laundry. Alfred had always taken care of that. Figuring out how to do his ordinary clothes had been easy. But the costumes? That was more art than anything else. Especially for blood. Getting blood out of spandex was no easy feat. In that sense, Jason’s costume hid blood stains rather well. 

But, it had been awhile since Dick had to try and get Clayface mud out of a suit. That was probably going to call for more than just a Tide pod.

The dull whirl of the washing machine was barely audible through the expansive condo. Dick had settled into his recliner, an open book cradled on one leg and the television playing CNN in the background, as the former Boy Wonder mulled over what he’d witnessed through Jason’s eyes and ears.

[i]“I’m her father punk!”[/i]

Matthew Hagan had no known children. Was he even capable of it? His anatomy was nonexistent at this point. Nothing about his consciousness made sense. So any offspring would likely have been from before his transformation, which would make his children older than this ‘Annie’ appeared.

So what was the connection? Why was Hagan so interested in that girl? For that matter, why was Hagan knocking over pawn shops and jewelry stores? That was a little [b]low brow[/b], even for Hagan.

Dick was snapped from out of his brooding by the sudden arrival of a pouncing Toyboy. The doll knocked the wind out of him, as Jason landed atop him amid a bubbling litany of childish giggling. Clad in one of Dick’s old police academy t-shirts, which the boy used as a nightgown, the slightly damp but much cleaner Jason squeezed his way between Dick and the chair. 

[color=#ffd700]“What’cha thinkin’ ‘bout?”[/color] Jason chirped, curling up against the man.

It was strange. Like thawing out an old memory. Dick could recall being that [i]familiar[/i] with his parents, even some of the other performers at the circus where he’d grown up as a boy. But could he have imagined pouncing on Bruce? Or giving the man a hug?

[b]Nope.[/b] Not in this or any other lifetime.

With one hand, Dick brought his arm up so that it rested atop the boy’s head, his fingers russling through the damp hair. With his other hand, he picked up the book and deposited it over onto the side table.  [color=#9fc5e8]“[i]Hm?[/i] Oh, just the news,”[/color] the man replied, lying artfully as he gave his full attention over to the boy that was snuggled up against him. Hard to imagine that thirty years ago, the two of them had been fighting inside of the bank that the doll had been robbing at the time. [color=#9fc5e8]“What about you?”[/color]

The boy shifted so that his head was resting on Dick’s shoulder. [color=#ffd700]“I’m worried about that girl,”[/color] Jason remarked candidly. 

It seemed that the two of them were of the same mind. Recalling the name that Jason had offered the girl, Dick asked, [color=#9fc5e8]“Annie?”[/color]

[color=#ffd700]“Yeah,”[/color] the doll affirmed. Shifting position, the boy slid up the arm rest and then sat upright, so that he was looking down at Dick as he continued. [color=#ffd700]“There’s no logical connection that would explain why Clayface would target her,”[/color] the boy remarked, his hands gesturing as he spoke. Throwing his arms up in frustration, he added, [color=#ffd700]“And we don’t know where either of them are.”[/color]

What would Bruce have said, Dick wondered. 

That was actually simple to answer. Bruce would have said that they should focus on finding Clayface. After all, the girl wasn’t the real problem. Clayface was the danger to society. Bruce would have said that girl was a problem for someone else to sort out. Not a job for Batman and Robin.

It wasn’t what Dick would have wanted to hear if he was in Toyboy’s shoes. [color=#9fc5e8]“Focus on finding the girl,”[/color] the man said. Not because he wanted to spite the philosophy of Bruce Wayne, but because he wasn’t Batman. He was Dick Grayson. Rationalizing his decision aloud, the man explained, [color=#9fc5e8]“If you’re right, then at that point, Clayface will come to you.” [/color]

Bruce always focused on the problem, rather than the [i]people[/i]. It was one of the things that Dick had set out to do different when he’d become Nightwing. 

It seemed to have worked. A smile lit up Jason’s face, as the doll pounced down to give the weary Boy Wonder a hug. [color=#9fc5e8]“Once we’ve neutralized him, we can get the girl the help that she needs,” [/color]the man offered, bringing a hand to rub the doll’s back. Then, he brought the hand up to the back of the boy’s head and neck, giving a gentle squeeze as he said, [color=#9fc5e8]“Why don’t you power down for a bit? I noticed some software patches were uploaded by S.T.A.R. Labs. You’ll probably need to reboot anyway.” [/color]

[color=#ffd700]“Does it bother you?”[/color]

The question caught Dick by surprised. Giving the boy a bit of a double take, the man tried for a moment to try and put the question into a context, and found he didn’t quite follow. [color=#9fc5e8]“Does what bother me?”[/color]

[color=#ffd700]“[b]Me[/b],”[/color] Jason stated, sitting up in Dick’s lap. [color=#ffd700]“You always treat me like I’m a real person,”[/color] the doll commented in a matter-of-fact tone. [color=#ffd700]“Even though I’m not.”[/color]

Dick just blinked. At first, he wondered where that statement or sentiment had come from. Then he remembered what Jason had shared with him earlier: [color=#ffd700]“[i]Schott never named me. He’d just say ‘boy’ and I was expected to answer.[/i]”[/color]

A hand rested on Jason’s shoulder. [color=#9fc5e8]“You showed that you’re no one’s puppet at Hinkley Creek,”[/color] Dick stated firmly, giving the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. [color=#9fc5e8]“You are who you choose to be. That makes you as real as any of us,”[/color] the man said evenly. Placing his hands under the doll’s arms, Dick lifted the boy up and then gently set him on his feet. Leaning forward on the chair, Dick looked the doll in the eye as he added, [color=#9fc5e8]“Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”[/color]

Pitching himself forward, the boy threw his arms around the man’s neck. [color=#ffd700]“Goodnight, Dick,”[/color] the doll said, squeezing against him.

A weary smile crept across Dick’s face. [color=#9fc5e8]“Goodnight, Jason,”[/color] he answered with a sigh, returning the hug before gently pushing the doll away to go to bed.

Jason came running back a moment later. [color=#ffd700]“Last hug!”[/color][/color][/INDENT]