#torture mention
Person A: “So, what are youin for, pipsqueak? Shoplifting from the toy store? Saying a bad word in front of a police officer?“
Person B: “I tortured and killed my parents, then burned down the building they were in, alongside several of their unconscious lackeys.”
Person A: “….oh.”
She can’t reach far, not with her wrists chained to the floor behind her, and neither can he.
But the chain is just long enough to reach out to him. She can strain far enough to touch the tips of their fingers together.
He reaches back, silently accepting her touch, curling his fingertips around hers.
Neither of them will look at the other. Neither wants to think of the wreck that has already been made of their bodies, or of the pain, or of the grim knowing that this is only the beginning.
But she has to think about it. They will most likely die here, she knows. That’s not what’s important, her life is not important. She has secrets to protect, a world to defend. She will take whatever tortures they can throw at her. She will never, ever falter, never break.
But she needs to know that she can trust him.
“Hey,” she says, her voice hushed in the dark, cramped cell. “I need you to promise me.”
He stirs just a little. She has his attention.
“Whatever happens, whatever they do to me… no matter what,” she commands, voice quiet but certain, “Don’t tell them anything.”
She understands her duty. She would give her own life for the cause in a heartbeat. But giving up someone else’s life is different. She is giving him permission. She is putting her life in his hands. She needs to know that he understands.
He nods slowly. She sees, out of the corner of her eye. It’s not enough. She needs to be certain.
She turns to look at him.
“Hey.” Her voice grows stern and forceful. “I mean it. No matter what happens. They put a gun to my head, you let them pull the trigger. They torture me, you don’t tell them anything to make it stop. If I scream, if I beg for mercy, don’t fucking listen. I’m telling you right now. Whatever fucking happens.“
She stares into his eyes, hard and firm. She means every word she’s saying.
He can’t not agree.
“Okay,” he nods, “I won’t.” He seems to be assuring himself as he says the words. “I won’t tell them anything.”
“You know I’d do the same for you,” she says, voice a bit softer. “I have to. It’s our duty.”
“I know,” he nods. “It’s okay. Whatever happens…” He takes a deep breath, turning his face away from her. “Yeah. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He can’t look at her anymore. But he presses his fingers against hers as hard as he can.
They are comrades in arms, casual friends, nothing more. They are not close. But this may very well be the last friendly touch either of them ever feel. Neither wants to let go.
“Hey,” she whispers, voice steady and calming. “It’s okay.”
He nods, staring ahead. “Yeah.” His breath threatens to shake, his voice is quiet, but he stays calm. “It’s okay.”
Person A is a career masked vigilante that one day has to rescue Person B. Violently twisting and yelling, nearly breaking their arms against the restraints to escape, a fearful B doesn’t recognize A in a mask. Unable to free Person B without hurting them further in the struggle, Person A rips off their mask as a last resort. Traumatized by torture and shocked at the reveal, B can only lay still and sob into Person A’s embrace.
For those of you that love to say Jason was a crybaby in AK, let’s talk!
Let me start with the fact that Jason was held in a disgusting, crime-ridden insane asylum for over a year. Not only was he in such an unsanitary place, but he was being held captive by the joker. Jason was beaten with numerous weapons, hung on a meat hook, shot, drugged to fight inmates, left to sit with untreated injuries, branded without any type of relief, fed rotten food, tied up, forced to take drugs, starved to the point where he became malnourished, and knowing that joker gave people free reign to torture him, possibly r@ped. During these numerous months of pure horror, Jason knew fully that Batman was not coming to save him (joker showed him a picture of him and Tim together), leading him to become brainwashed to hate his own father.
So yeah, I think Jason being brutally tortured and severely traumatized would give him the right to speak about what happened to him. Calling him a crybaby just shows that you don’t know his lore, but I guess that’s on you, and if you read this, now you know!
