capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO:

bigreveal
WHERE: NOHoPE.
WHEN: The afternoon of July 7th.
WARNINGS: HURT FEELINGS
SUMMARY: Waller and Blake have a talk, and nobody’s trying to gut anybody. probably
FORMAT: uh

Yeah, Thomas is about done with this shitty institution. Between the terrible therapy and the long stretches of watching lunatics drool onto their plain grey collars, he’s starting to feel as if he’s insane himself.

And, he reminds himself, he isn’t. That would be ridiculous.

Stretched across the plain example of so-called “bedding” they’ve given him, his feet dangle over the edge of the too-short frame. Staring at the ceiling, his fingers drum his fingers on his belly absentmindedly.

It won’t be long now until he gives up and gets somebody to drag him out of here. Just waiting for something to happen.

The door opens. He doesn’t notice.

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"Oh, I have no idea. Right."

"The current state you're in - you're rising up, animalistically, trying to scare me. Despite the fact that you know you can't hurt me. Despite the fact that you should know I'm packing the same kind of heat as last time."

"Before that. You coming to a damn prom, in costume, trying to shank an actual cat man in order to hurt me because... why? Said cat man not only has the ups on you in every physical level, but you know this, too. More than that, you know that the prom itself is filled with a horde of people with superpowers, including JLA veterans. You still go through with the 'plan' anyway."

"I know exactly where the hell you are, Blake - and it's wild, reckless, violent, stupid and most of all, angry. So sit the hell down."

Not only does he keep standing, he takes a hard step towards her. As if he'd do anything that she wants him to do. Sonic taser or not.

"You think I don't have a reason to be angry? I found myself without any reason for going on, without any anchor, purpose, people, whatever. There's nothing for me here but more ways for me to fail just as I had done in the world we left behind. You expect me to go on with everyday life as everyone else does? Get a desk job?"

"I don't care if I lose, I don't care if I die once, twice. Why the hell should I, Waller? Give me one reason."

"Because I'm not here to fight you. And I'm not trying to get you to work for me or some shit."

"You should care because you're making up an enemy to fill a void here."

"You just said it yourself, Blake. You got here, without any reason, without any purpose, without any direction. So now you're just lashing out. Are you listening to yourself here?"

"No purpose, no direction, no reason - which is the closest you can get to your old life before you went to Africa. Of course you don't want that to happen again. So you need something to do."

"You've picked me to be your target. Or your purpose here. And it's not healthy. Justified, yes, healthy, no. Your obsession could reach Gotham levels if you don't take some goddamn time to sit down and think your life through."

"I mean, for christ's sake, Blake. You're putting so much stock in what I say that you're making a point of doing the opposite of it. If I wanted to manipulate you, I'd just tell you not to do something."

She just looks back at him, right in the eyes. What an angry fool. And one who might lose all control of his life if he doesn't come to face his issues.

He could stamp his feet, throw his fists (to no avail), cover his ears and try to deny every single word that comes out of her fat, grating mouth. He could do the same exact thing that he’s done every day since he’s been in the City. It would be so, so easy. Waller is the enemy, he could rationalize. As bad as the Bat that wrecked him.

Instead, he takes a wary step back, flopping himself back onto the rigid bunk; gaze casting downwards, away from her accusing look.

“Okay.” Hands clench, unclench by his sides. “Okay.”

“I don’t have that many options, Waller. I’m a bit luckier now—the Six isn’t back, no, but at least there’s one more person around to hook me down—but I still don’t have any goals, nor do I have anyone to follow. Besides getting even, I can’t drudge up any other motivations.”

A sigh. “I can’t let myself fall back into that state again. You know I can’t.”

"So, where do I lie? Right now? As much as you might want me to drift off into polite obscurity, that's not a possibility."

"Right now? Your options are either getting professional help before you really need it, or getting back together some sort of 'family'. As a cleansing method."

"And don't tell me that professional help doesn't work. I know for a fact that Lawton borrowed one of my personnel to help with his own issues, even after he left the squad."

She taps her fingers a bit, looking at Blake. Wondering how long he can stay calm. Bringing up these personal issues are only going to make him more tense.

They were going to have to discuss them anyway.

"Consider. What did you do right after your encounter with Green Arrow?"

"You went to Africa and lived with a pride of lions. What did that give you?"

As she’s talking, he tries to interrupt her pseudo-psychological bullshit with “I don’t need—“ Realizing he’s going back to being defensive, Thomas pauses. Breathes.

Listens, for once.

“Gave me my own self-confidence back, both physical and mental. Gave me a purpose, however simple it was caring for my pride.”

Places his fingers on his temple, as a sign of thought. “What are you saying? Do the exact same thing here?”

"I'm saying you need to examine how you react, what status you slip into depending on the circumstances."

"Maybe do the exact same thing. But I'm not prescribing anything yet. I'm just trying to get you to take a long look at yourself."

"So, yes, you had a pride. And things were good. You had purpose, direction, and health. When you were alone, you didn't do anything, you had no idea what you wanted to do. Didn't have direction."

"Without the pride, where did you end up? With the Six. And despite the occasional snap, when it comes to personal issues... would you say you had purpose then?"

She'll make him connect the dots eventually, god damn it.

“I had more than a couple, yeah.” He shifts, straightens up. “Obligations to my contractors, to my team, to each individual.” Friend, he leaves out, because this isn’t a Lifetime movie.

“We already got that part about “needing a purpose” covered, if that’s what you’re trying to do. What are you trying to lead into?”

He leans forward a little on the bed, jabbing an condemning finger toward Waller. “This is why you should work for me, Blake, for your own sanity?”

"God, no. You working for me would be the most absolutely destructive thing for your sanity at this point. Your anger would become something uncontrollable and self-loathing would kick in, making recovery even more difficult. And you losing control means you wouldn't be an asset for me."

"You working for me? That'd be a lose-lose, Blake. Neither of us would get what they want."

She's trying to spell it out, in very simple words: I'm not trying to make you my secret agent.

Besides, Blake's a mercenary, and not a clever one at that. If she really wants to hire him, she can use the Sheep identity again.

But she won't mention that. To anyone.

"What we're heading into is not only that you need a purpose, but you need some sort of socialization. Friends, teammates, whatever you want to call them, I don't care."

"Whenever you're alone, Blake, you self-destruct. You may play at being a loner, but that's actually when you're at your worse. Before, you became sedentary, a punchline for people still in the game. After your personal transformation?"

"When you're alone, you're afraid of becoming that thing you were before, the last time you were alone. So you get desperate to do anything you can to stay away from it."

"Hell, you just told me a few minutes ago, you'd never let something like that happen again."

Breathing easy, taking measured blinks, and never letting Blake out of her sight. Always looking him in the eye.

She's not taking this conversation lightly.

First thought is that she’s blatantly lying. The whole “nobody wins” thing grates on his nerves like nails on the driest chalkboard. A manipulator—what she is, nothing more—always finds a way to get the upper hand, to use people and gain from using them.

No, he doesn’t say that aloud.

Does it hurt for him to admit that Waller is right? Well, yeah, beyond measure. Is it really that productive for him to deny all the plausible truisms she mentions? Not very.

“Let’s say you’re right, Waller. I’m a bull in a china shop when I’m left by myself.” His eyes are on hers, more assertive than they were the moment before.

“According to you, it’s all too easy for me to go downhill when I don’t know what to do with myself. You think that my first instinct is to lash out at anybody close to me, and gradually act more and more self-destructive until there’s no place I can go but upward.” He adds, just to clarify: “That’s what you think.”

“Would trapping me here really mend that at all? Would finding a new something, if not the Six, reverse my fall the other way? Is it really that easy?”

"No, putting you here gives you the option of getting actual help. I suspect somebody will break you out sooner or later."

She knows how the game goes.

"And well... having something would be a start. Don't need a fix-all just yet. You just need a balancing force."

"And the lashing out is more specific. If you don't have purpose or some basic group, you try to create a purpose out of an enemy. For all intents and purposes, you've made me a surrogate Batman. Even after accepting a truce, and letting you go."

"You want to fight me, or need to fight me, to have a rival, because it's a purpose. It's something. It's anything but staying home and getting fat. Having an enemy is a simple, plain structure, one you know how to follow."

"Not that I think you should treat me like a friend, because you absolutely shouldn't."

"But I suspect my refusing to hit you back, to go after you the same way you did me... that hurt you a lot worse than just your pride. It denied your enemy. It denied the purpose you wanted. So you came after it harder, and much stupider."

"You're smarter than that prom assault, Blake. So something's not right with you right now."

“Sooner rather than later, yeah.” As if he’s going to hide that.

He’s quiet for a good moment, gaze casting towards the wall, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Thinking.

“Okay. You’re right.” Sonic gun, shoot me now, he thinks.

“I lost my anchor, and you were the best person for me to antagonize. To make an enemy out of. I’ll admit that. And you didn’t make the one that I thought you would, originally. The truce was a sham in the first place.”

“Do you know how it feels, Waller? To lose every single thing you value in your life, to try to live at all without them? Have you ever attempted suicide? I’m not going to apologize to what I ever did to you or your beau—you shouldn’t expect me to—but it needed to be done. For me. Before I went into goatee-stroking supervillain mode or worse, heroism. I couldn’t let myself fall to either line.”

“I just.” Helpless. He’s feeling helpless. “I don’t know what I can do.”

"You're asking me if I know what it's like to know loss. Extreme loss."

She stops for a moment. Then just huffs out a bit.

"My god, Blake, you really need to do your research."

The fool really didn't seem to know the first thing about her beyond 'manipulative', seemed like.

"Cleansing, Blake. You need to flush your system, reestablish some basic balance. You might've been cynical when you asked if you should just go to Africa again, but it's really not that bad an idea. If you're not willing to get the help here, or from other places, then why not take the proven method?"

"Then you can come back here with a clear head."

"Fine. Cleansing? I can do that."

Give him a damn ticket to Mozambique already, woman.

"No way that I'm going to be all clean while I'm getting my stuff together, but you're obviously not expecting me to. Which is fair in its own right, I guess."

“Now, if I told you I’d do it, what you're saying—would that make you get out of here?”

He's back to being dismissive already.

"Sure. If - or really, when - whoever it is that's going to spring you? Don't kill anybody on the way out, like a moron."

She stands up, rolling her shoulders. Now speaking in a tone Blake would be more familiar with, and accepting of being the 'true' Waller.

"Don't ever come at me - and especially not the people I care about - ever again. You crossed the line twice, and my patience only goes so far. Part of why I see a therapist myself."

"But you get the point. I don't care the reason, you do it a third time, I'll hurt you in ways worse than anything you've ever done. There won't be a rivalry, there won't be that kind of back and forth bullshit, because I'll just outright crush you."

"Have a nice life, Blake."

And she sees herself out.

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