Crowned Hopeless [Batman]

[Deleted]

The street was dark. Snow lined the concrete and the air was frigid and eerie. It was silent. Not even the wind made a sound as it assaulted the boy. For what seemed like hours he walked with no clear destination. Only a pestering feeling of despair. A shadow fell over him, strange as there was no light, and it was menacing. Two great ears rose upon it's head, eyes of crimson glaring with a terrible hunger. It mocked him with a devillish smirk, reaching out with demon bat claws to grasp his arm. The touch was like ice, and it stung.

Jordan swung around, searching for the man with such a terrible shadow. An older man stood over Jordan with a desperate face, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a plea. "Why did you kill me?" The man questioned with grief. "I only needed money. My son was dying and I couldn't pay to save him." He explained. "I only needed money..." The voice echoed. "I only needed money...but you killed me. You murdered me. You murdered my son."

Jordan took several steps back. "No! I'm sorry! It wasn't me! Scourge did it!" He answered, tripping over his own feet to fall to the concrete. With only a frightened blink, the scene had transformed. There was the little girl on the bus, her neck snapped, her eyes sunken. She was terrifying, and she reached for him with bony fingers, her nails long and sharp and seeking flesh. "No!" Jordan tried to crawl back, to escape. But he was stuck, his hands and legs heavy.

His world was shrinking, and behind the girl he had stolen from life just yesterday, the shadow grew. It took the shape of a monster, clad in an obsidian cape of living bats that glared with glowing eyes, fangs bared. "Murderer." They chanted to each other, their voices skin crawling whispers. Then the group shifted, and suddenly, launched themselves away from their host to dive at him. "NOO!"

The blankets were thrown to the floor as Jordan was jolted awake. Heat assailed him, slicking his features with sweat. He sat up hastilly and pressed his hands to his face, panting. It had been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. It had been Scourge. The beast was hunting, Jordan's dreams his territory, his memories prey. The nightmares he was well aquainted with by now, but he could never get used to them. They would torment him nightly, and he'd have no escape. Scourge was going to drag him to hell, Jordan knew.

The heat was terribly uncomfortable. Jordan always slept without his shirt, but despite the absence of the fabric, sweat poured down his chest and stomach, and his black hair stuck to his head annoyingly. Jordan slipped out of his pants and flung off to the side somewhere when a famillier weight pressed against him. "Kitty." Jordan acknowledged affectionetly and he reached for the black cat.

The beast purred as Jordan layed back and placed the tom beside him so he could bury his face in his fur, caressing his ears. He gave a loving mew to his companion and hugged him tight. "You're always here when I need you, huh kitty?" Jordan mumbled thankfully. He'd had the cat, Shadow, for a while now. It was the closest thing he had, since he was so distant from his grandmother.

"I had another bad dream." The boy said, and he sighed. "I saw the mugger I killed, and that litle girl. And all the others from the bus. It was terrible. The bats were there, too." The cat's fur was the only thing keeping his tears from sliding down his cheeks. Jordan closed his eyes and sighed again, exhausted. He secured his arms around Shadow and let his purr drown out raging throughts. It was comforting to have something to trust.

[vigilant]

"The bats are back."

The voice came from Jordan's right. Deep, dark, and menacing. The stuff of nightmares. As promised, there was the sound of a bat's wings, flap, as it fluttered through the air... But no. It was just his cape being drawn closer around him. When Jordan turned to look, he would find a pair of white lens glaring down at him intensely. There was no humanity there. No mercy. Just an empty, gaping void where, behind them, a demon lurked, judging, ready at a moment's to unleash hellish perdition. When he spoke again, it was that same deep gravel, but there was a measure of restraint there... as though he wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to unleash his wrath on this demon, or to offer sympathy to this... kid.

"It's never going to get any easier than this. The nightmares, I mean."

He reached into his pocket, and retrieved a picture. Without so much as a glance at it, as he's seen it many times prior to this night, he slid it across the bedside table to Jordan, facing up. Like a card. Like a trump card. It was the face of the little girl from the bus. Before she was murdered. Before she had ever gotten on that bus. When she was still smiling and laughing. In the moment the picture was taken, she would have never guessed her fate. Neck snapped, spine twisted, limbs mangled. Organs pouring out, pooling around her decapitated figure in a bloody and grotesque display of gory violence. In the picture, she still had on her white summer's dress, before it was stained with red.

"But it will get a lot worse... If you don't stop."

[Deleted]

There was always that moment, as a child, when you're scared of the dark. Where monsters lurked under the bed and in the closet. You'd always lay there, listening to all the thumps in the night, your eyes wide open as breath came slow and ragged. Your body was cold with fear, and you had to keep telling yourself that it wasn't real. Monsters weren't real. Even if you still insisted on hiding under the covers, trying to drown out the self inflicted terror that plagued your mind.

This wasn't like that at all. This was real. It wasn't the whisper that made you lie in silent, cold horror, wondering if the voice had been conjured up by your own mind. Trying to find some logical solution. No. This wasn't like that at all. It wasn't soft and mysterious. It wasn't a figment of his imagination. It was real, and it was petrifying. It sent his skin crawling just like in his nightmare. It shook his body within a frigid grasp. He found me. Jordan didn't jump up. He didn't want to make any sudden movements that might set the creature off. He didn't want to die. But I deserve it.

His faced pressed harder into Shadow, who hardly seemed bothered by the new presence. Jordan had always trusted the cat's judgment, but his ease with the situation was hardly comforting. Jordan had to remind himself, Shadow was just a cat. Of course he wasn't frightened. Shadow had probably scented the devil minutes earlier. Jordan groped his fur, letting the black hairs slide through his fingers as he struggled not to panic. But it was to late for that. He was panicking now. It was obvious. No since trying to hide it.

They say he eats souls, and has an army of blood sucking bats! Jordan still didn't want to look at the creature lurking behind him. I heard he was demon. Some people even say he's the devil. They say he'll drag you to hell! Rumors. Those were all he had to go on. Jordan was struggling now. Struggling to comprehend fact from fiction. My dad says he ripped the bones out of a man on the street, and bathed in his blood! Would Batman do the same to him? Or would he think of something worse? Did he have his army of bats with him?

Jordan could hear the fluttering of a thousand wings from the darkness. He held his breath. He risked a peek. Two cold, merciless daggers sliced his mind with terror, and he recoiled at the cruel gaze. Shadow leapt away, hardly appreciating the lack of attention as Jordan involuntarily locked eyes with Batman, desperatly searching for some type of humanity. But there was none. He hardly noticed the movement, the slight shift of shadows as Batman reached for something within his pocket. The silence had stretched long enough.

"It's never going to get any easier than this. The nightmares, I mean." His voice sounded human. It was powerful, and darkly threatening, but it still sounded human. That, however, offered only small relief. Until the words sunk in. Tears had already been working to stain his face. His fear had momentarily froze them, as well as his body. Now they flowed again as Batman produced the haunting picture. If the appearance of Batman hadn't made him tremor enough, the image broke him. He'd taken the life of a child. An innocent girl.

Jordan couldn't look at it. It hurt. It ached. His head dropped to his hands. For a few moments, despite his attempts, he couldn't speak. Choking on sobs. Monster! Jordan accused Scourge at first, and then himself. It was his body, used to commit the brutal slaughter at the bus that day. The driver, the women, and the girl. The little girl. Helpless. Innocent. Beautiful. "I...didn't mean to." He wanted to defend himself. He wanted to throw all the blame at Scourge. But he couldn't. That was the point of it all. It was driving him crazy. "Please. I want to stop. I do! But I can't." Jordan whimpered. "You have to understand." A pathetic whine, before his voice rose in a desperate plea. "You have to!"

[vigilant]

But monsters are real. They're there, when the lights are turned off. When the covers are pulled close. When the wind creaks and the door suddenly slams closed. But these monsters... They're not found underneath the bed. In the closet. Or even in the cold, merciless night. They're inside each of us. Watching. Lurking. Singing, like a siren's sweet, sinful song of seduction. It guides us, an invisible hand, lightly pressing, but never too apparent, on our pathway to Hell. Afterall, they do say the way to Hell is a smooth one.

Batman watched the boy break. Break and shatter into a thousand bloodied pieces, like a broken heart. Behind the white, inhumane lens, his blue eyes softened, and turned inwards. Of course Bruce knew what it was like to hate himself. Of course he knew what it was like to think he deserved whatever hellish perdition came his way. Of course he knew what it was like to hate himself. But whereas Jordan's had a definite cause, Bruce never knew why he felt that way, and had long given up learning why. Eventually, he settled with the idea that he did not deserve happiness. That he alone must suffer for the greater good. For the Mission.

No... Batman didn't understand how it feels like at all.

"I don't sympathize with the likes of you."

A pause, and the picture was taken away, pocketed, like a trump card that he alone held.

"But you can start explaining. Then maybe we can fix this... Fix you."

[Deleted]

Batman's presence was a cold one. His gaze was piercing, right through the flesh and into the soul. In Jordan's petrified silence, the itchy wetness upon his cheeks drying to what felt like a sticky crust, the eerie sound was all to famillier. Within the depths of his own mind it rang, a menacing laughter that mimicked the boy's own voice in a perfect, twisted manner that made him tremble. It was Scourge. It had to be. The tone was cruel and evil, yet the voice had been his. Maybe it hadn't been Scourge. Maybe...it had been Jordan. Some sick side drawn about by the devil within. A beast of no conscience.

No. Jordan raised his head to look hopelessly at the demon that had been tormenting him, listening. He noticed the picture being removed. It had been a distraction, and it's dissapearance helped clear the boy's head, to some small extend. The memory was still there, however. It always would be. "I killed a little girl. An innocent little girl...I hope I burn in hell for it." Jordan snarled quietly at himself, though the words had been meant for his thoughts, he had said them aloud. For a moment his gaze was distant.

He regained focus as Batman began to speak again. He wanted Jordan to explain. He wanted...to fix him? Am I broken? Can I be repaired? From the moment he began his life of paranoia and fear, Jordan had wished for nothing more then the chance to explain. To get help. To rid himself of Scourge forever. But was it to late? Scourge had left scars that may never fade. Morphed his mind into a teetering seesaw. It went wherever there was more weight. And when there was none, it was so unstable as to tilt and crumble at the slightest touch.

If he could get help, to what extent? I don't think I can be fixed. Jordan moaned as he opened his mouth to answer. To say something. Was it even worth it? Would Batman even believe him? Would he care? No. Probably not. The boy thought grimly. I deserve to suffer with this. I was given this curse for a reason. From the birth of Scourge, Jordan had believed that it was his punishment. A burden he must bear for some sin in the past. It was one of the main reasons he was even still alive. But what's the harm in explaining? If he doesn't believe me...it was probably meant to be.

Jordan sighed, glancing about for his cat before his gaze settled on his feet. They were a good thing to focus on. Not so inhumane as the creature that lurked near in the darkness. He'd have turned the lamp on, but to anger the Batman was not his objective, so he let the darkness remain, wrapped so snugly around them. How to start? There's a thing in my head that makes me do bad things? It sounded crazy. "I don't...there's something inside of me." Jordan began, struggling. "I call him Scourge. He likes to...hurt people. And he comes out, and uses my body to do it." Well, that had officially made him sound like a physco. Why should I care?

"Sometimes, he changes my body into a monster. A wolf monster. And he kills things. I can't control him. He...hurt Robin on that roof top that night. And there were others...but Scourge got away." Jordan admitted. If he was going to explain Scourge, he might as well explain some things he had done. "And then...there was the bus. And all the people. And the little girl..." His voice trailed out, fading like a whisp of breath on a frigid Winter night as a cruel grief tore through his body.

[vigilant]

Maybe we aren't broken. Maybe we don't need any fixing. Maybe we just need to find somebody as broken as we are just to make the pain a little easier to bear.

Deep down, Bruce knew. Maybe there was no monster inside him, bursting out at unexpected moments to seize control and paint the sky in red. No, it wasn't quite the same. But he knew how it felt like to carry a monster inside him. All rage and fury and cold, calculating hate. It comes alive at night, in his nightmares, when he finds himself tangled up in sweat-soaked bed-sheets, taken back to the day when everything changed. It comes alive, when he finds himself standing toe to toe with a criminal that reminded him particularly of that man... The man with the gun who smelled of gunpowder and smoke. But something had always stopped him from losing control, from committing the ultimate sin: murder. Whatever it was, it hadn't stopped Jordan.

"There's only one thing we can do."

He took out the photo again. Rather than giving it to Jordan, he took one long, hard look at it, then slid it across the table. His stance changed imperceptibly, as though in preparation for what he had to do. The average person would never see it... The rigidity that sprang along his legs, turning loose, relaxed muscles into tightly coiled springs. He was either prepared to pounce or readied for escape. His jaw had tightened, and behind the searing white lens, his blue eyes grew hard.

"The only way to prevent you from hurting anymore people is to take you away. You will be locked up. But you will be fixed. Cured. I don't care if it takes me ten years, but I will never quit. And in the event nothing works, at least nobody else will ever be harmed."

Batman waited. Pin-drop silence. It was the quiet before the storm. Either Jordan will transform and lash out at him, or he will come quietly. Either way, Batman was determined to take him away tonight. To take this menace off of Gotham's darkened streets and abandoned alleyways.

[Deleted]

"There's only one thing we can do."

Jordan trembled. He knew what words would come next, but he still shook when he heard them.

"You will be locked up."

His features changed from grief to fear, as Jordan began to inch back along the bed with his pupils trained on the creature. He could see the slight shift of the shadows that had been so firmly wrapped around him as Batman prepared to pounce. Further concentration revealed features the boy had missed, when he dared not let his eyes wander. The darkness seemed to move with and around him, his gaze cold and dreadful, and his frame radiated with power. Not the brutish power of Killer Croc, or the chaotic power of the Joker, but a dark and suffocating power that demanded submission and respect. It was a power that could put the devil on his knees, through sheer force of will. It was a power to be feared.

The words still echoed in his head. He'll take me to Arkham! It was a place of nightmares, a fortress of evil. Batman's words of curing him offered no comfort. Scourge was not part of his imagination. He wasn't an illusion. Scourge was real. He was an uncontrollable monster lurking within. Not a cause of insanity, but a real and living entity. His eyes widened with desperation. He had reached the edge of the bed. His hands slipped off, gripping futilely at the sheets that would offer no support, and Jordan fell back. Luckily, he remained on the bed, instead of crashing to the floor.

The thought of running passed through his mind, but Jordan realized it would be a wasted effort. He likely wouldn't manage to get off the bed. Jordan was no fighter, he had no experiance. Batman was not an opponent he wished to face, and was certainly not one he wanted to irritate. "They can't fix me at Arkham...they can't get Scourge out! He'll only come out and kill everyone, then he'll escape and I'll be a wanted, err, even more wanted fugitive then I am now!" Jordan protested. It was all he could do.

He knew Batman was right. His words burned like fire. Jordan had known his fate, that he would be locked away, hated by the world. He knew that he couldn't be free. That he'd probably never be free. The risks were too great. He'd be kept like an animal in a cage forever. His recognition of the Dark Knight's words shimmered in his gaze. But knowing his future didn't make it easy to face. But was simply locking him up really the best action? Scourge would still be free, as he could hardly be contained so easilly. Locking him in a prison would only put more lives at risk. It wouldn't fix the problem.

"I'm not crazy." Jordan whimpered. Or at least not in the way you're thinking. He realized his display may have put Batman on edge, and so he relaxed, letting his features slide into a more passive state as he bowed his head so his gaze did not linger. He knew staring at someone who liked to be in charge may appear as challenging. Joker looked Batman in the eye when he struck, as did many of his other more steel willed villains. Jordan, however, had no plans to strike, and certainly didn't want to appear as if he was going to. If he showed he offered no threat, Batman would have little motive attack.

[vigilant]

Over the years, Batman had learned a variety of skills that had made him a menace amongst Gotham's darkened alleyways. How to disarm a dozen criminals hell-bent on defeating him. How to disable and deactivate the most complicated machinery with a timer, and the world, looming over his shoulder. But one skill that had aided him most, was how to read fear. How to see it pass through his opponent's body, either in the form of a cataclysmic current or infinitesimal ripple. How to smell it, like the fresh, metallic scent of blood as it makes contact with the air. And how to capitalize on it, like a shark when it sees red, or vultures as it descends on the corpses of the deceased. It was both an art and science. A beautiful and flawless mixture of cold, hard efficiency, observation skills, ruthlessness, and well-timed aggression. It was the only brand of magic Batman knew, and approved of.

"I don't think you're crazy."

The muscles along his legs remained tense. Poised. Readied for action. For a second, he thought of all the times he had spent training. All those battle simulations. And in his mind's eye, as Jordan scooted further back along the bed, he saw a thousand ways in which the situation could have developed. They were literally human chess pieces, and there were thousands, no, millions of ways the story could have unfolded. But in the end, the result would be the same: he, the victor. His enemies, strewn unconscious along the ground, or tied up and handed over to the Gotham policemen.

"I just think you need help."

As Jordan bowed his head in submission, Batman paused. All his experience, all those years spent fighting crime, taught him to fear more the criminal who appears docile than those fighting ferociously. There was always a trap; danger lurking just around the corner. A few dozen henchmen armed to the teeth with guns and bazookas, or a machine meant to immobilize him and carve out his guts. That was why, even as Jordan looked away and seemed... for the most part, resigned, Batman was cautious. Distrustful. Paranoid. But, as his gaze drank in the image of this boy, this frail, helpless little boy with his head down and his eyes wet, something softened inside of him. The muscles along his legs loosened slightly.

"... I can tell you're good. That you're a good kid and this is just something that's too big, too dark, for you to handle alone. But you do have a choice. You have the choice to do what's right. To go peacefully. To try to not let it hurt anyone else. And because you're a good kid," A pause as he took a deep breath. "I'm not doing this just to protect other people from you, but yourself. Because if I didn't stop you now and allowed you to hurt other people, you'd hate yourself. You'd destroy yourself. And that self-loathe will fester inside you, and it will make you rot... It will make you dark. And I can't let that happen."

[Deleted]

Silence could be a torturous thing. To hear a bump in the night was to know something was lurking, but to hear nothing at all, you could only grate your teeth and suffer in sweat. It was never the bump in the night that was frightening, but the idea of what might be hiding, waiting to pounce. It's always much easier to come to terms with the thought that you know something is out there, than something that you think might be out there. It seemed like hours that the silence stretched, Jordan could feel Batman's gaze stirring the hair on his neck, and knew the man was in thought. When he did speak, it came as a bit of a suprise. He dared a quick glance up at the man.

He doesn't think I'm crazy. Jordan ran over in his head a few times, playing his thumbs with nervousness. His pupils focused on the two fingers running over each other as he took in a deep, shaky breath. It felt hot, and threatened to suffocate him. Jordan realized his tears were being accompanied by drops of sweat that rolled down his skin and dampened his chest. But he still thinks I need help. Jordan thought as Batman continued. He's still going to take me to Arkham. He concluded grimly.

"But...they can't help me. I'll kill them. I'll kill them all." Jordan mumbled quietly to himself in a rather hopeless tone as Batman paused to observe him with suspicion. Jordan looked up, but didn't risk eye contact. He didn't know why the man had stopped. He wasn't aware that there was a threat in his docile actions to the larger man. Jordan certainly was none.

He had no traps, how could he? He couldn't run, Jordan was smarter then that. He wouldn't dare attack, even if he saw an opening. Batman terrified him. The fact that he was sitting so calmly there now was only in effort not to provoke him, and now he seemed provoked anyway. In the darkness of the room, Batman's features could hardly be made out, but the air around him had certainly changed. Jordan knew, a simple twitch the wrong direction would be enough to set him off. Batman would pounce, and whether he'd attack or not, Jordan would likely be restrained. He didn't want that. It would only make him feel worse.

Jordan tried to look a bit more relaxed, but it was impossible. His body was rigid and tense and his stomach danced painfully. He struggled not bend over from the sickness that rose toward his throat. He looked pathetic. After a moment, Batman seemed to relax a bit, as he resumed speaking. He was certainly right, Jordan did have a choice. He could go peacefully, as Batman had suggested, or he could be dragged. Either one would lead to the same place. As he had always been told, you had a choice between the easy or the hard way. But the result would likely be the same. What was the point in choosing the hard way?

He says I'm a good kid. But I'm not. I'm a monster. Jordan inhaled deeply again, resigning himself to his unavoidable fate in chains. "You're too late." Jordan sighed. He waited a moment for a reaction. But not so long to give the man time to respond. He only wanted the words to sink in. "I already hate myself." He said sadly. "I'm already rotting inside. If Scourge would allow it, I'd have destroyed myself long ago. Course, I still try. Hoping I'll catch him off guard. One day, I might." Jordan let his thoughts grow distant at the thought of release. At the peace death might bring him. If only fate would be so merciful.

[vigilant]

"No, Jordan."

His voice was a harsh, grating rasp, like nails as it digs trenches into a chalkboard. He stepped closer now, and his shadow streamed along behind him, the shape of an enormous bat. The terror and mortal enemy of Gotham's most hardened criminals. He seemed taller, fearsome as he loomed over the young boy. He crouched slightly, just so he could lay a gloved hand against Jordan's shoulder.

"You don't know darkness. You don't know what it means to really rot inside."

There was a noticeable difference in the tension along his jaw. The boy was nervous, frantic, a tremulous leaf in the wind. Tension coiled along his shoulders like springs, and he could feel the fear radiating off of him in the form of jitters and sweat. Sweat that smelled like the sea, salty and moist and wet. Batman was well-versed with reading fear. He could identify it in a million different ways, from scent to sight to sound. It was a necessary and invaluable skill that had taught him how to lay siege when the castle was weakest.

"But we have to go."

His arm closed, transforming instantly from a light touch to a vice-grip, around Jordan's arm. He didn't yank yet. But there was authority in the way he guided the boy to his feet. There was power in the way he stared him in the eye and led him towards the window. But every step of the way, he kept watch, wary, cautious of any... changes that might occur and provoke the boy into action.

[Deleted]

"No?"

Jordan was stunned, though it hardly showed through his fear. If he had been standing, he'd have taken a step back as Batman drew closer, to plant a hand upon his shoulder. Above, he loomed, a terror in the night. Utterly nightmarish in the darkness, with his muscled frame wrapped in shadows, and his gaze cold and intimidating. Inhumane slits of a deathly white. His voice could make a grown man crouch in submission. You'd have to be insane to fight against the demon that made Gotham his home. Like most of Batman's rogue gallery.

"You don't know darkness. You don't know what it means to really rot inside."

With all his fear, however, it was hard not to acknowledge the sudden rage that boiled inside, striking his features red. He allowed Batman to haul him from the bed, followed him for a few steps toward the window, and then resisted. He couldn't ignore it. Couldn't simply not say anything. Though he had no aggressive intent, nor idea for escape, as Batman's grip was like iron to the boy, he wanted Batman to know, needed him too. With a sudden, brazen action, Jordan looked Batman in the face with his lips curved into a frown and seethed.

"No." Jordan outright disobeyed, locking his legs, even with the knowledge that Batman could just as easilly carry him out. "You're the one who doesn't know what it's like to rot inside." Jordan snapped. "So you may have seen things? Maybe experianced terrible traumas in your life. But how many times have you taken a life?" Jordan spat angrilly, and tears streamed once more down his face as he dared to challenge the Dark Knight. "How many times...have you looked into the eyes of a child, with so much potential, so much joy, and innocence...before taking it all away...ripping her apart...and forever turning all those wonderful things to glass in her eyes? How many times have you heard the haunting cries of a mother who had just lost the most precious thing in all existance...because you took it away from her?"

Jordan's voice grew near to a whisper as he reached the end of his rant, as his heart burned with the feeling of shattering to a million peices. As the broken, crumbling feeling filled his body and tore into his very soul, his eyes closed as he allowed his vision to go black, and with it, his very will to exist, wishing the flames of hell to lick his flesh if only that some horrific form of punishment would help relieve some small bit of guilt that was truly rotting his insides. Jordan's head lowered as he found himself leaning against Batman, exhausted and crushed, with no form of hope left inside. "You should let your bats eat me." Jordan mumbled softly. That seemed like a fitting punishment, agonizing as it would be. But even that wouldn't be enough. Jordan thought with despair.

[Deleted]

The moment Batman's hand feels outright resistance to his pull, he suddenly stops. But he doesn't let go of his grip on the arm - instead he simply waits, still watching the boy very carefully, as he's assaulted by those angry words. The words don't matter nearly as much as what Jordan does. Though there is anger within the boy it's still controlled, so he is patient and waits for him to say what he needs to. And because he noted that control, he's not surprised when the boy nearly collapses against him at the end of his rant.

But just because the words are of secondary importance doesn't mean that he doesn't hear them and listen. On the other hand, just because he's listening doesn't mean that they have any apparent effect on him. They're the words of a boy - a troubled boy who as impassioned as he may be doesn't actually have any idea what he's talking about. Which is only to be expected from someone with so little life experience.

Though rather than pointing out all the problems with what he just said, which would quite frankly take much more time than he's willing to spend, Batman settles for just the most important one. "If you weren't good, then you wouldn't care and it wouldn't hurt," he says very simply. Having fought numerous criminals who were rotten to the core, he's very familiar with that one trait they share - that complete lack of basic humanity. They kill - some even more brutally and often than this boy could ever match - but do they mourn the dead? No. Many of them actually enjoy it. All the guilt and all the self-loathing that the boy takes as his proof that he's rotting actually proves the exact opposite.

Having said that, he waits again - still watching. He wants to leave now, but if possible he wants this to be Jordan's choice instead of something that's been forced upon him. Of course, Batman is prepared to use force if he has to - the choice here is really whether or not he wants to come quietly. So if only to that end, he gives the boy a moment to show any further hint that he'll offer any further resistance. Otherwise, he's happy to take the boy's exhaustion as a sign that he's ready to go.

[Deleted]

Jordan was fighting. Not Batman, but himself. There, supported by the firm body of Batman, he squirmed in his thoughts. He could tell Scourge was watching, he could almost feel the mocking spirit of the beast that stalked his mind at that moment. He offered no physical threat now, it seemed. Scourge would much rather experiance Jordan's suffering first hand. Jordan wandered if Scourge would be capable of defeating Batman. It seemed as if Scourge was a beast that could quite literally rip Batman in half, would even the mighty Killer Croc stand a chance?

Jordan had never seen Killer Croc in action, but he knew he was big, strong, and brutal. Certainly one of Gotham's heavy hitters. Jordan decided there would be a good chance that Croc would crush Scourge, and for a moment, he felt the need to try it. Then he remembered Scourge would probably never let it happen and tossed the thought. He rested a moment, listening to Batman's next words, and considered them.

"I'm cursed. I'm supposed to suffer. It doesn't mean I'm good or bad, it just means I'm getting what I'm supposed to." Jordan replied quietly. "It doesn't matter, anyway. The more Scourge torments me, the more I slip. I can feel it, and it scares me. I find myself wondering just how long it will be before Scourge consumes me entirely, and what then? There would be no more Jordan. No more good, because I would be nothing but evil." The boy let a sigh pass by his lips and trembled. It was clear he had already accepted his fate.

For a few moments, he was quiet, rather relieved Batman hadn't started forcing him along. He wasn't particularily happy with following Batman out of a window and into the snow. The cold air reminded him of his exposure. While he was hot now, with his raging emotions, it wouldn't last in the frigid winds outside. He glanced at his arm, locked in Batman's grip, but he knew better than to try and tug away. "Could I get some clothes on before we leave?" Jordan questioned softly. "I won't be long." He promised.

[Deleted]

Having never fought the beast lurking inside this boy, Batman can't say for certain whether or not he could defeat it. However, in spite of the damage he knows that the creature is capable of, to say that he's extremely confident would be putting it mildly. Though he himself is extremely strong after years of pushing his body to its limits, he's never been one to fight based only on brute strength. No, strength is merely a tool - it increases the number of things that he's able to do and therefore gives him more options.

In truth, any physical fight is actually a mental one - two (or sometimes more) minds using whatever resources within both their body and their surroundings against each other. The mind controlling the stronger body has an advantage, but not one that can't be countered by a mind able to take advantage of what is in its favor. Which is why Batman isn't dead yet and Killer Croc has been locked up a number of times - that large brute may be a challenge to fight, but only to the degree that Batman has to be careful about taking him down.

And Batman has yet to see any sign that Scourge is any different - he's yet to see any sign that the monster has any great intelligence and therefore he isn't that worried. The only reason why he's keeping such a careful eye on Jordan is because he doesn't want the change from innocent boy to raging beast to catch him off guard, should it happen. If he's learned anything about fighting anything that much stronger than himself, it's that you don't let yourself get within striking range - he'd have to move very quickly in the event of a sudden change.

Again Batman listens to the boy's words, but as he's uncertain of what to say that wouldn't turn this conversation into an extended discussion, he says nothing - this is neither the time nor the place for a philosophical debate. And he's never been good at offering comforting words in a time of personal struggle anyway - that's Alfred's specialty.

It's only when Jordan asks him a question that he finally speaks. Noting the way the boy is dressed, he hesitates for a moment before his grip suddenly releases and he says, "Hurry." The cold outside won't cause the kid any harm, given how short the trip will be, but he supposes that it may get unpleasant without a coat so the request is reasonable enough. Their destination isn't going to be very warm either.

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Jordan nodded his appreciation as he moved away from Batman, toward his dresser. Going into the snow as exposed as he was, no matter how short the trip, wasn't a good idea, though underwear was hardly appealing on it's own. He quickly opened the second drawer to shift through what shirts were there, his thoughts distant. How am I going to explain this to Janice? She'll get up in the morning, see I'm not here, but that's normal. Wait until she turns on the news. He frowned. No way was he about to go wake her up and tell her. Jordan couldn't face her.

He snatched a black sweater from the drawer and slipped it on over his head, grabbing some jeans from the next drawer down and sliding them on next. Jeans weren't exaclty the warmest in such weather, but they would do, and it was all he really had, anyway. Finally, he grabbed some warm socks that he shoved his cold feet into and managed to jump awkwardly into some shoes on his way back over to Batman. Without realizing, he let his eyes stray. Batman was certainly a spectacle.

"Okay..." Jordan said softly as he acknowledged it was time to leave. He took one last look at his room and took in a deep breath. His room was messy, with a pile of dirty clothes in the corner and papers and notebooks cluttering the shelves. The atmosphere was dark and cozy, and Jordan would miss the feeling. He let the breath out as a sigh and was ready to turn back to Batman when something rubbed against his leg with a purr.

Jordan looked down at the cat, grief glistening within his gaze as he leaned down to stroke the feline's back before hooking the tom up into his arm and bringing him up to his chest. Jordan rubbed his face into the cat with a loving meow of his own, drinking in his companion's scent before kissing him lightly on the head, between the ears. "Bye bye kitty. Daddy will miss you." He whimpered before setting the cat gently back onto the floor, turning now to approach Batman. "Let's go." He mumbled sadly, refusing to look back as it would draw the tears out again, and he looked pathetic enough already.