cassidy moran has ended all the revels (revelsended) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-06-11 01:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, prospero |
Who: Cass and Thomas
What: Thomas comes calling, and Cass is none too pleased.
Where: Cass' apartment
When: After Cass spoke with Wren
Warnings: None
Cass had spoken to Wren on the phone. He felt strange. Not unwell, he didn’t think, not really, although maybe a little disjointed, picked apart at the seams, frightened and strengthened at once. The world outside had never been a more terrifying place, never more full of monsters. He had thought he was beginning to conquer those feelings before the thing, the it, the him, had taken him over. Now going outside seemed like a risk only worth taking in the most dire of circumstances.
At the same time, he now knew just how far and how wide and how strongly his power stretched, knew that really he had nothing to be afraid of at all. Fear could be conquered, and he would do it. He had the power to, now. Even if nowhere was safe, he could punish everyone at once if the thief struck again. He could bring this city down around everyone’s ears. All he wanted was to be left alone, and for Wren to be safe. Even now, he itched to pull at the clouds, bring down the rain and snow and hail, the wind and the crack of lightning. Stifling the compulsion to do it now that he knew he could was difficult, and it left him distracted. It would be better, though, if he didn’t. Better if he saved it for when he needed it than abused it, better if he made it stand out, made them know when they had done wrong.
Still, despite the power and potential, he mostly just felt tired. He'd decided to send Wren off to someone else, someone she actually cared about. He was willing to admit he might be dangerous to be around, and that she wouldn't be happy with him. She deserved to be safe, but if someone she loved could keep her safe...
The apartment was dark. He was sitting in the bedroom on the edge of his bed, the long, curved wall of windows behind the bed thrown open, watching the clouds roll in. They weren’t his clouds, just the normal sort bringing summer rain, and he twirled his hand, sent a burst of cold air and moisture up and watched the clouds darken like milky gray tea, steeping darker and darker still.
The Bat was a dark splotch of ink against the darker shadows, an outline on the wallpaper where no outline should be. His voice was eternal, as black as the cloak, but there was no question that he was thoroughly invested in everything he was saying. “It’s not a toy.”
He wondered, as he'd moved undetected through the series of rooms were Moran spent his time, whether or not he had seriously underestimated this man's sanity. He had come in the theory that Moran was simply without perspective, without understanding of the damage he caused, but standing there, watching him fool with the atmosphere as if he could do such a thing without consequence, the Bat was not so sure.
Perhaps Corbinian was right, and perhaps the only answer was to seal these people away where they couldn't harm... but then, many Creations could do harm. Who was to say one kind of harm was greater than another?
Cass spun immediately upon hearing his voice. He was sure, so sure that it was him, the one outside, the one he was searching for. “How did you get in here?” he asked, voice strangled and cracked. He didn’t look particularly well, gaunt and tired. Something in the air begin to crackle a little, the room drying out in a few short moments. He stayed close to the window, eyes wide, every muscle tensed.
The Bat was well aware of Cassidy's ability, and he theorized that in order to have such a strong effect on the weather, he probably either controlled the movement of moisture or the barometric pressure. If it was the latter rather than the former, Cassidy could drop the pressure a significant amount to simply kill him where he stood, but if it was the former, all the Bat had to worry about was preventing Cassidy from freezing and unfreezing the relatively small amount of air above their heads and building enough charge to create miniaturized lightning. The lightning localized to the room probably wouldn't pose lethal danger.
Ignoring the question, the Bat stepped forward into clearer visibility, and waited to be recognized.
It took a few long moments of staring before Cass realized who he was looking at. “Bat,” he said, chin lifting slightly. “I already talked to the masks,” he said, slowly. “I told them I would stop when I heard from her, and I did.” He didn’t bother trying to hide his identity, trying to pretend he hadn’t done anything. No, the Bat wouldn’t have come here if he wasn’t sure, come into his home without permission. “I’d like you to go,” he said. The clouds outside were beginning to look threateningly dark. “I don’t stand for strangers in my home.”
The Bat transferred his gaze past him out the window demonstratively, and back. His eyes were white gleams in the dim light, and that was all. "It doesn't look like you stopped to me," he observed, calmly. He didn't move either forward or back.
“I have nothing against the masks,” Cass said. “You do good work. I have no quarrel with you, and I wouldn’t suggest you try to find one.” His gaze slid toward the window. “I have,” he said, watching the clouds. Then, more quietly, “I did.” The build up of electricity in the air around them, that had been intentional. The clouds darkening he hadn’t even noticed until his attention was drawn to them, and he stared for a moment before looking back to the Bat. “I’ll say again that I would like you to leave. If I have to remove you, I will. You broke in.”
The Bat wasn’t especially troubled by legal niceties, a fact that nobody appeared to notice in the wake of Corbinian and Rorschach’s more colorful trespasses. The Bat began to move, an eerie, silent sweep, like silk over carpet, his eyes coming into clearer focus. “I don’t need to find a reason. Do you know how many people you are responsible for injuring in the past weeks? That you may even have indirectly caused death, and certainly suffering? Are you so intent upon spreading your misery?” The Bat was disdainful. He was surrounded by people who had no concept of how little they really mattered in comparison to the good of those around them.
“No one died,” Cass said, immediately. If anyone had, he didn’t know about it. He had seen some things on the forums, of course, but he didn’t believe them. He couldn’t, and he had edited the idea that there had been collateral damage out of his reality.
“I had to find her, and drive him out of hiding,” Cass said. Simple as that. He’d had goals, and he had felt everything spinning out of control. He had been afraid, and angry, and he taken control of the one thing he could in retribution, to get safety for Wren and himself. It wasn’t that complicated - why did everyone insist on making it so?
The Bat stared at him. He had thought Moran to be more intelligent than that. “You didn’t achieve either of those things.” He stopped again within arms reach. This close he was far more human, height and build discernible. “Instead you simply distributed suffering on the entire city, and undoubtedly disturbed the pressure systems over the entire western coast of this continent. Some crops will die and others will flood over the next few months, if not years. The weather is not a toy. It is not a faucet you can turn on and off.”
Cass stood his ground, but his eyes went a little wider. He was unsure whether he should back away, or simply wait for the Bat to remove himself. He had come far too close for comfort, however, and if the Bat had been intent on reasoning with him it seemed all bets were off on that front. Fear and anger, anger taking predominance, seemed to saturate the room, the way the storm outside seemed to be slowly extending inward.
“I want you out,” he said. “That’s the third time I’ve had to say that, now.” There was a faint crackle in the air, and electricity arced, just for a moment, from the bedpost to the floor. No longer dry, the bedroom was now misty and cool, growing colder. “If you don’t remove yourself in the next thirty seconds I will blow you out of that window. You are trespassing in my home and telling lies to try to toy with me.”
The Bat was still for a second. The small white voltage caught his attention just as it should, but the cold white gray gaze came back to Cassidy’s face and there was no kindness there for him. A black glove all kevlar shot out for the other man’s neck, and pushed rather than squeezed, taking hold of him in a firm though bizarrely painless way. “I am not the one playing games. Strike me and you will be struck too. Learn control, Cassidy Moran.”
Cass didn't have control. What little skill he had with his ability came from manipulating things that were already happening, things that his emotions had already begun to wreak on his surroundings. The hand at his neck sparked panic, to the extent that it almost drowned his fury out. He had always been susceptible to panic attacks - now they had a distinct effect on everything around him. It hadn't started raining yet, but thunder rumbled outside, close to the building. Above them, in a brief flash, a flicker of electricity crawled across moisture at the ceiling, fizzing into nothing close to the edge of the window.
The Bat didn’t look away this time. He was bluffing when he said if he was struck it would conduct to Cassidy; the suit was made to protect the Bat, and he could pick up a live wire without hurting himself. If Cassidy called up a gale, however, Thomas had him firm, and he wasn’t going to let go any time soon. “I won’t hurt you unless you make me. It’s you that does the hurting, demanding Wren’s presence, as if she is yours to command.”
Cass’ face changed immediately. Of course. Of course this was about Wren. Wren was a mask, so here was another mask to threaten him. At the mention of her name, the electricity in the air fizzled out, though the clouds outside were still dark. "I wasn't commanding her I was trying make sure she was safe - what do you know about her?" He asked, leaning in. "How do you know her?" He was frightened now, for Wren - had the masks threatened retribution on her? Had the threat been transferred to her somehow?
“I know everything about her,” was the reply, and it was true. The Bat did his research on every single person he had meaningful interaction with, from his secretary to his neighbors. His sons girlfriend had a file that would be thick if it wasn’t electronic, and the Bat’s shadowed eyes were glass and opaque. “You’re hurting her with this. Stop.” The Bat would exploit every angle to protect his city and the people in it, without hesitation. “If you don’t, I will find a way to do it.”
The palpable crackle in the air finally dissipated entirely. “If I stop, she won’t be hurt?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if the Bat was working on her behalf or threatening what might happen if he didn’t. “She isn’t coming here,” he said. “I told her to go stay with - with someone else. You can’t touch her.” And neither could he, of course, but that wasn’t the point. “Her safety is more important than anything.”
“Maybe you should stop raining hell down on her city then,” the Bat said, harshly, releasing his grip.
Cass backed up a few steps, watching him, warily. All he wanted now was for the Bat to leave. He wanted him to leave, so that he could actually think - so that he could shake some of this confusion from his mind. “You’re going?”
The Bat tipped his chin slightly at the window, indicating the dark sky, without breaking eye contact. “Control. Then I’ll go.”
Cass watched the Bat closely. He looked considerably younger than he actually was, but in that moment his eyes looked much older. He took a breath. He'd never been good at taking control of himself - his emotions, his reactions, none of it. But he could grab hold of the thread that tied him to the oncoming storm, slippery and difficult as it was to find. He couldn't fully calm down, not until his apartment was his own space again, but he managed to slacken his hold on the storm. The skies lightened again, gradually - not much, of course, the storm had been there before he had touched it, but it looked less threatening, now.
True to his word, the Bat stepped back, and then, increasing the distance, slid silently around Cassidy. He gave him a last parting look, as if weighing something invisible between them, and then he stepped off the balcony’s ledge, sliding down the railing, catching himself, and then pushing off and down toward the next building.