Practice Chat

Will

"...Killed you? Clearly you aren't dead, or a ghost for that matter. What do you mean...?" I ask, glancing at her, resting my arms on the rail.

Chelsea

"Exactly that. Locked in a room with a bomb. Kablooy," I say, a ghost of a smile on my face with his cool toned questions. He wasn't effected by it, like how I wasn't effected by normal nightmares. You grow up with something and it just becomes a part of life... "I died once..."

Will

"...I'm sorry....how did you come back....? If you don't mind me asking..." I ask, giving a small frown as I look at her.

Chelsea

I shake my head. "It wasn't so bad. Just after. After wasn't -" I go silent for a while, shrugging afterwords. "If you know Damian's past... There's something called a Lazarus Pit in this world," I say, that explaining that. It didn't matter. If he wanted to look for that sort of immortality, he could certainly try. Ra's would have him killed before he even noticed something was mysterious. "Heals at a cost of sanity."

Will

"Immortality." I say, looking at her. I had done more than heard about Damian's past, I had viewed it.

I never really thought of life after often, funny thing not to think about, being a Seer. I did think of it do to others but never where I would go. I was afraid to die, yes. Everyone fears death. But immortality, I couldn't see myself living forever. The concept was hard to imagine. I had seen enough of those dead who have watched their loved ones grow old and die, I imagine immortality would be something similar.

Chelsea

I nod slightly. "If you keep using the waters. But you lose your mind. And then the body is only meant to live so long...starts falling apart. Damian's grandfather tried taking his body recently, when his own couldn't go on any longer..." Glancing over at Will again, just pondering... Tim didn't like me talking about this stuff, since it brought on the memories, sometimes made me regress. He wasn't around anymore. Off on an extended mission. ...See? Consciousness hiding the fears. He's not coming back for...a while...

Will

"I know...he's mentioned it..." I say.

It wasn't a direct lie.

He had.

And I had viewed it.

But normally he mentioned it before going to storm off......or slap me.

Chelsea

I knew Damian brought things up just to brag about them a lot of times, try and enforce his superiority, or just be condescending. He didn't really know how to normally converse about things, especially things that a ten year old shouldn't know, and sometimes he just gave away too much. But still, it wasn't usually about his past. "You know a lot about him," I comment quietly, watching the waves in the water. "...That's nice. He trusts you..."

Will

"...He has to...I guess....trust me...I viewed his memories, he has to trust that I won't go around telling about his past..." I say, but we talk sometimes."

Chelsea

I shake my head. "Doesn't have to. If he's still telling you about it. When he doesn't even talk to me." Glancing over, I smile to him. "He's got a specific way of showing people how he cares... Takes a lot to figure out his thought process, even for Batsy. The beginning was worse, if you wanna believe it."

Will

"He's a piece of work thats right...." I muttter, "And he cares? About me? I doubt it."

Chelsea
I give a quiet giggle. "I've been around him a long time; he can't hide any fears from me anymore..." I state. Not that I'd say them. As I said to Will, I didn't reveal someone's fears to another for the fun of it. Not if they didn't deserve to know. They were tricky, and most people wanted to know so that they could use them against the person. "Think he would have saved you if he didn't? But he's barely had any interaction with any person while with the League other than with teachers or his mother, never mind someone remotely his age. He doesn't have the slightest clue..."

Will

"He told me he saved me because of his father, not because of me." I state, still disbelieving he actually cared.

Chelsea
I give a hum, leaving the railing to walk back. "Because he wants to show Batsy he can care about what he thinks.... He's just a little fanboy if you ask me." Shrugging it off, I start down a different path to follow the water's edge. I glance back at him and clasp my hands behind my back.

Will

".....What boy doesn't want to be like their father...?" I say, looking at her. "They're supposed to be role models and in their son's eyes, a hero. If you can't get love from your mother, you go to father next."

Chelsea

"I dunno," I reply briskly. Didn't exactly have parents to look up to like that. Something else 'normal' I missed out on then? My steps fall playfully wide along the separations in the concrete walkway, heading along to the Chelsea Pier facility. But before that, of course, the free merry-go-round. Was there someone I looked up to when I was younger...? Quincy, or Batsy, or Spades even... Joker? A hero...in a life where standard heroes were turned enemies. My thoughts about all of them flip flopped too much back then. I would laugh with them one day, and wish death upon them the next. "...I guess I figured that stuff out myself when no one would guide me on it." When you can't get love from your mother, and none from your father, and none from anyone else when you grow up something to be feared... "And you? When your father is someone to fear, who was your hero?"

Will

"My mother....but she died when I was five," I say, looking at the ground as I walk beside her with my hands in my pockets. "After she died, I only had my brother and my Father. My brother and I took care of ourselves...but I suppose I have Father to thank...he does put a roof over my head."

Chelsea

That was a reason to thank someone...? I didn't think so. Maybe I worked with Joker for seven years, but I wouldn't thank him for it when he killed me. But I didn't fear him, so maybe that was the difference. Fear brought respect, no matter who you were - Joker was a clear example of that. "...That is a cheap tactic for control," I murmur.

Will

"He has other ways for control, he is the head of my family, as well the head of an entire organization."

None of the punishment were every verbally expressed, but we all knew what they were. Traitors were to die. Gabriel's and his family had fled when he was a child. He had returned not to long ago, Demetrius had persuaded Father to allow him back into the Cause. After all, he had only been a child and had no choice in the matter. But if he were to leave again....

well, let's not get to that.

Chelsea

"But he controls both by fear. It's a cheap tactic that only the weak and self conscious use, because they aren't confident of their other skills of persuasion or intimidation," I say simply, pausing a moment. "There is a reason I don't just spout off fears to people for them to use against one another. It serves no purpose in the long run. Still, people don't want to cross me because I hold their greatest faults. That is my superiority. In their minds, the possibility of me telling is more of a threat than their actual fears, so they respect me. People are scared of their weaknesses. Those low enough to be consumed by that worry make people fear them so that their own fears are things not to be figured out in their make believe place of power. It seems to be impossible to take them down, because a person feared could not possibly have some small insignificant weakness according to their followers. It is but an illusion, a fake trick to comfort into a false sense of security..." There is a reason you get through to Robin by words and not by show of power and superiority. Because he's been trained to be able to conquer those simple things that cause the great weakness of warriors, but not to know what to do in reaction to kindness or normal mannerisms. But when my entire existence thrives upon that weakness, his training says to fight me and ignore me, so he does.

Will

"He does have other tactics, it's not just fear. He uses persuation for some, intimidation for others, I assume it depends on the person. Persuation in a business deal. We aren't allowed to show fear, not to each other or the enemy. Fear is a weakness...." I try to explain.

He uses fear, but fear is a weakness.

Is Father weak then?

But he doesn't fear, not to my knowledge.

Chelsea

"When you think of him, is that the first thing to come to your mind?" I ask sharply. "Fear is a weakness. That's a warrior's mentality. Not allowed to show fear, then why do you follow the man you fear? Isn't that a 'show of fear'?" A smile plays on my lips at the question as I look over to him. That was the entire key to his Pandora's Box, hm? His existence as giant paradox.

I did love psychology sometimes...

Will

I gap slightly at her, before forcing my jaw to close. "I....I don't know.....I mean....if I don't....I die. I didn't...I didn't ask for any of this...and stop, stop doing whatever the hell you're doing. I don't like it. Just, leave me the hell alone!" I say, turning on my heel.

I take quick strides away from her, as far away as I can get. Once I turn the corner, I run, my black coat whipping out from behind me and hitting the back of my legs. Soon, I'm flying, like one of those black birds I like to watch, Ravens....that's what they're called. What am I running from? I'm not sure. Her? My father? ....Myself?

All I know is I want to get as far as I can.

Chelsea

I stay put, watching him go away blankly as I move back to lean upon the railing. Should I go after...? I didn't really care. He needed the time, I guess, but if he got lost it would be a bother...for him. I glance down at my communicator upon my wrist, the little screen giving a little dot of the tracker I had stuck on him with one of our brush ups. He said he was from upstate, so he had to know his way around the city if he visited before? Maybe to a bus stop or Penn Station to get a way home. I'd follow a few blocks behind, I suppose. Make sure he at least didn't venture into any bad neighborhoods or get into any trouble. My way of following a few blocks behind, anyways...

"Ace, come," I say as I walk off to the nearest alleyway to get up some fire escape. Somewhat unnecessarily though, the dog followed me everywhere. He brushes up against me, his head nosing my hand until I lay my fingers comfortingly upon his head, feeling his stubby black fur. Comfortingly for me. Messed things up again, didn't I? At least the dog wouldn't leave...

Will

Taxi. Bus. Taxi. Bus.

A bus would be cheaper. Bridgecroft was states over. I could take the bus to another town, call Father or Demetrius, or perhaps take a train from there.

I turn another corner, dodging my way through people. I stop at the bus stop, glancing around for Chelsea. I shove myself back onto the bench in the enclosed bus stop, hoping the posters will hide me from her.