maskormenacelogs | I need a witness

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I need a witness

WHO: NELSON GARDNER and HOODED JUSTICE
WHERE: Some alley in Heropa
WHEN: 4/3 late at night?
WHAT: shitty boyfriends, the saga continues
WARNINGS: very likely, will edit as they come up

It should be telling, that after all this time, he was becoming more and more reckless. Maybe it was on purpose, in some odd way, that he'd started to move in closer to home, like he was daring someone to stop him -- the police, other heroes, anything. The first attempt had been days earlier, a beaten and bruised body found by the cops, and they'd called it in, but that had been the end of it, turned out (as Hooded Justice had already discovered) that the man was a drug pusher, and had the stuff on him, at that. The second incident, on this night, was much closer to what they'd considered home, even if HJ didn't really put two and two together; more that he had done it, without realizing it, until it was too late.

It was a small store, that had been held up, HJ somewhere close to note the signs of an assault, before he'd torn in, and took down the perpetrator. Took down, of course, was being mild, with the way he beat the man to the ground with his fist, and the way he'd cried, letting go of the gun long enough for HJ to knock it across the floor, a soft skittering noise, even while the shocked storekeeper watched on, mouth open and eyes wide. He'd watched HJ save his life, after all, and when the telltale sound of police sirens took flight, filling the air with noise, that was when HJ panicked. He stood over the boy's body, looking down at him, and then the shop keeper, and then the glass windows, and then back to the shopkeeper.

The guy tilted his head toward the back, a clear indication that there was a door back there, and HJ ran with it, or really, ran toward it, leaving the body on the ground, while the cops showed up, the crackle and fizz of their radios filling the room, even while he dashed out into the alley, crouching behind a dumpster for long enough to listen and observe. He couldn't go out in one direction, but he still hovered, not sure why, but he didn't leave the alley, even if he heard them inside, the loud squeal of the radios responding to each other, even while one opened the door to peer out into the dark of the alleyway, somehow missing HJ entirely -- even though HJ could have sworn their eyes met.

'Perp was taken down by an unknown assailant,' the radio echoed through the alleyway, even as the cop started to back into the small convenience store, the last words still echoing while Hooded Justice hovered. 'Assailant is believed to be at least six feet, and may be wearing a red cape. Presumed to be dangerous --'

That was the last that HJ heard, but yet, he still lingered, and didn't escape out the back end of the alley, perhaps stupidly, like he was waiting for something.

Surprisingly, the cops didn't come back, maybe because they didn't want to bother, or perhaps they hadn't seen him, through some sort of miracle. He wasn't looking any gift horses in the mouth.

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It was happening again and this time Nelson wasn't sure how to repress it. Sitting in his home he'd suddenly been overcome by a familiar buzzing migraine filling his head, his thoughts, and before he knew it the radio signals felt like they were enveloping the surface of his brain, so much that he couldn't even hear them.

He managed to set his drink upright on the table instead of dropping it on the floor -- small victory -- before he stumbled out the door to find a store and buy some painkillers. It wasn't a normal headache, of course, but they had been known to help... occasionally. Anyway, it was worth a try. Nelson grasped bits and pieces of several different feeds and stations at once, clipped words here and there, and the flashing lights of police cars around the convenience store did nothing to help.

If anything, the feeds got louder. Feverishly, wanting to get out of there and avoid the noise, Nelson paid for her medication and exited out the back and took a moment to feel contented in the darkness. Jazz music. Rock n' roll. News radio, celebrity gossip, and a weird snatch about someone in a red cape. Swallowing two pills dry, Nelson rubbed at his face, feeling miserable for allowing his mind to jump to the obvious so quickly at hearing that. Red capes? Plenty of people wore those. Besides, Nelson refused to chase after ghosts anymore.

Sighing, he leaned against the brick of the building for a moment or two as the police sirens faded even more into the distance, trying to clear his mind.

The face of the sirens, already fewer in number and quickly fading weren't what HJ concentrated on, even while he drifted further and further back into the shadows that were already doing an excellent job of hiding him. He'd jumped somewhat, when the door opened to show another person in the doorframe, but this one hadn't come with a radio, and it hadn't taken him more than a few startled moments to figure out who it was.

But he hadn't seen him, that much was for certain. Hooded Justice didn't dare entertain the notion that Nelson wouldn't still react to him in some way, the insult that would be implied otherwise was... well, HJ didn't think Nelson had it in him.

But that left them both in an interesting position, because there were only so many reasons why Nelson would be here, weren't there? This store, after all. This alley. He hadn't been caught, after all, had he? Not with the perpetrator, and not in the shop, so there were only so many places he could have gone. Was that disappointment, or simply relief?

He was never good at simply waiting, making as little splash as possible. HJ wouldn't allow for that, and so he stood, making sure the motion was audible -- the slight shift of cloth on the ground, the scuff of his boot -- before he slid out from behind the high stack of boxes. I hadn't exactly been much of a hiding place.

Words, however, failed him. As they so often did.

The pain did not pulse quite so strongly anymore, to Nelson's relief -- the crackle of radios had died down and whatever emotion had triggered the spontaneous overload seemed to have abated. He swallowed two more pills in preventive measure, nose wrinkling at the bitter taste that flooded his mouth when he crunched them to dust between his teeth.

Nelson turned suddenly at the noise, putting his hand over the slight lump his billfold made in his pants and jerking himself back against the building, heart racing even before he saw the person who emerged from what might as well have been nowhere. Or from his memories.

"What are you doing here?" It was low, only accusatory in as much as Nelson had the strength to allow it.

"There was a robbery," it was as flat as he could manage -- a true achievement considering the fact that he was still angry. The logical thing would be to turn and leave, especially considering how their last conversation went. His feet did the opposite, as they so often did around Nelson, doing something different than what was probably the smarter course of action.

The fact that he was in the area -- specifically this area -- and that he'd chosen the thief with the most visibility, and highest likelihood to get caught were both fact that he didn't deny, but he wasn't willing to outright say them either.

"Customers don't exit through the back," he pointed out, when he was closer, less than a yard between them. Pointing out the obvious, but HJ thought that said something as well, that he hadn't simply gone home, if he went out to get something, painkillers, it looked like.

A robbery. That didn't answer at all what Nelson was asking, but he shouldn't have expected a real answer. His eyebrows knit in frustration, though it was more restrained that usual.

He ran his tongue over his upper lip, mouth still tasting bitter. He knew the answer anyway, he suspected, and perhaps it was better he not actually hear it. The last thing he wanted right now was another excuse to fall to his knees and beg for another chance. He was above that, or he should have been.

"It was too bright going out the front," he said, his own voice flat and quiet. His eyes didn't leave Hooded Justice, a little wide and a little wet, but otherwise he kept a good grip on his emotions. "I thought you left Florida."

Interesting. Hooded Justice hadn't announced where he went, after all. The only thing that followed in his wake after their fight had been his fight with Castle, and then the occasional whisper -- police radios, news reports, that sort of thing. It hadn't been intentional, that time.

"I've been back for some time," he offered, a sliver of insight. A slight one, but slight from HJ was often like giving a mile, or that's how he treated it anyway, it was even in his voice. "A few weeks."

He shifted, something in his stance reflecting that old anger, still simmering, despite the fact that he should have let it burn off by now, it should have left him, but HJ held onto his emotions, just as volatile as Nelson sometimes, at least if it came to his anger. "It was no better there than it was here." The obvious, of course, was that he hadn't stayed out there.

He should just go home, Nelson told himself; turn around and walk through the alley, leave, not fall into the same old habits he always did. He didn't move from where he stood, though, only crossing his arms over his chest as if he were cold.

"Well, a person like you isn't happy anywhere, I suppose," he muttered, swallowing tensely. That flatness -- his restraint -- still didn't leave his voice, though it was tenser now, pulled more tightly. "That's the problem, isn't it? When everything's a problem, there can't be solutions."

His gaze dropped to his feet, lips tight again, before he looked back at Hooded Justice slowly. His expression was softer.

"You aren't interested in them."

The silence stretched for a moment, while Hooded Justice weighed his words, and what he was really saying. They both knew this dance, pretense veiling something else, trying to say something, while talking about another thing entirely. His gaze dipped, for a moment, checking both ends of the alleyway, before focusing back on Nelson.

"That depends on the solution," said simply, his voice taking on an edge, something caged and wary, but even so, everything else about HJ dominated the space they occupied. He stepped forward, giving Nelson little room to move away, if he chose to.

With a moment's pause, he continued. "There are few who I would trust to propose something worthwhile," he added, this time a touch lower, arms still hanging uselessly at his sides. He didn't know where they stood, and it left him hanging in some kind of odd limbo, anger and old habits clashing; leaving him somewhere in between, indecisive on which action to take.

Nelson did move away, glancing away too as he did. Frustration rather than noise pulsed at his temples now, creating tension in his muscles that he felt down in the way his knuckles clenched.

"You've never trusted me, why would you start now? I-I've suggested everything," he said curtly. "I can't do all the work. I shouldn't -- you're a man, aren't you?"

He wasn't sure what it was that emboldened him in this moment, as he raised his voice; it was pointless at best, dangerous at worst, most likely, but there is nothing more he felt he could offer but the weary truth regardless of what it cost. Hooded Justice didn't listen, and Nelson would be unhappy if he spoke up or stayed silent.

"I don't know what you want. Worthwhile? What does that mean?"

He paused, the silence stretching for longer than HJ normally allowed, like he was slowing to stop and think. To consider the approach. They weren't talking about anything else but the obvious, as if they had been before. He hoped, that the silence wouldn't draw attention, and the way his eyes locked on him said enough, like he was scolding him silently for raising his voice. In public.

Hooded Justice was far more fiercely protective of the secret they both kept, it seemed. But the question still lingered, what did he want? Most of the time, HJ didn't know what he wanted, focusing on the immediate, instead of anything out into the future. The first thing he did was breathe, louder than necessary, clearly annoyed. "Would I show my face to someone I didn't trust?" he asked, as if throwing his trump card down now would get him what he wanted.

Which, apparently, was staying with Nelson. Accepting that, it seemed, was simpler than he'd initially suspected. "You should know what I want," he said it bluntly, or as bluntly as not saying it could be. "Why else would I be bother with that?" that was asked with a jut of his still-hooded head back toward wall of the convenience store.

Nelson felt scolded, keeping his eyes down in his indignation and shame. They weren't in public -- no one was around -- but he crossed his arms more tightly, shrinking silently against the brick wall.

"Don't ask me that," Nelson muttered. "I don't know. I wouldn't have thought so, but you never act like a damn thing is different. You don't act like you trust me, you don't even act like a person."

Silenced again, Nelson finally raised his eyes to look at Hooded Justice, frowning -- he looked over his shoulder, then back at Hooded Justice, unsure he understood. (Such a common feeling he had, nowadays.)

"... Bother with what?"

He looked the other way, back toward the other end of the alleyway, like he was concerned that they would be interrupted at any time. In fact, paranoia was probably the least of Hooded Justice's problems, but the constant vigilance was an attribute he admired. With Nelson looking one way, he could look the other.

He stepped forward, at that, intent to close back in on him clear, in the way he moved. "With a convenience store," he said simply. "Here." So close to home, it said, even if he didn't say it. He hadn't come home, after all, but home was no place to have a conversation like this, with so many other people about.

He paused, though, even still, working over all the nonsense in his head that Nelson was obsessed with. The idea that he wasn't a person was laughable, even if he were partially true. HJ rarely acted like a normal person, but he was certainly himself.

"If I weren't a person, would I have left?" Or attack Castle in a fit of jealous rage?

Edited 2014-04-15 07:47 (UTC)

It was hard to tell if Hooded Justice was mocking Nelson by taking his point so literally, but it only made everything more confusing. He exhaled harshly, speechless for a few moments while he puzzled out the response and what to say back to it.

His heartbeat, loud and fast, didn't help matters any; he felt distracted, even more so unfocused than he might normally be. Nelson looked at Hooded Justice nervously.

"Are you saying you came back here on purpose? Came back here?" His voice was quiet -- equal parts uncertain and skeptical. He swallowed. "To see me? W-why? What does that-- what does that mean?"

Eyes wide again, Nelson kept them searching Hooded Justice's, trying to find the truth there. What did that mean?

The problem with being someone who didn't often speak on his thoughts, was that when the moment came that he likely should, the words simply weren't there. Hooded Justice was just as lost as Nelson, perhaps even more so. He still kept his eyes locked on him, as if maybe Nelson could divvy out what he meant by that alone, make it easier on him.

Then again, HJ never had it easy. "Yes," he said simply, as if that could be the answer to it all. HJ wished it would be, even if he knew that it wouldn't. He stood there, more like another wall in the alleyway, as if standing straight would keep Nelson from noticing the way his eyes narrowed, or the way he kept his hands too still at his sides.

He was trying to keep himself in line by force of will alone. "It means," he paused, parts of him trying to stop whatever lunacy took him to say something like this outright. "That I was waiting for you to come here." He felt sick, almost, at even saying that much. His eyes flicked to either end of the alleyway again, checking.

"I--" Nelson was the first to break eye contact, looking down at his feet as he felt his face grow warmer, his breathing growing more aggressive. It was unexpected, it was sudden, and he felt flustered about being put on the spot when just twenty minutes ago he'd been at home with a radio-headache.

"Y-you--" He cleared his throat. Swallowed. Bit his lip. Finally his eyes moved back upward. "Were waiting for me," he repeated. The words had to sink in, he had never heard that sort of thing from Hooded Justice except in more impatient contexts. Inhaling, he straightened his shoulders and intended to say something like So tell me what you want, then, but instead he only breathlessly exclaimed:

"I missed you!"

The automatic 'Of course you did' was bit back, but just barely. Hooded Justice had no doubts in his mind that Nelson had missed him, if just because he didn't know what he wanted -- in his expert opinion. Thankfully, it seemed his tact won out, or at least somewhat. A rare feat for the man, if there ever was one.

First was the note of affirmation that escaped, half to fill the space from when Nelson spoke to when he said something. He considered his words as carefully as he often did, and it showed, in the way he shifted, like he was antsy, uncomfortable. And yet this was better than making it somewhere in the house, where someone could overhear.

He stepped forward, close enough to reach out, press his palm to Nelson's cheek -- there was the distinct smell of blood on his hands. "I know," he replied simply. Like Castle was up for the task. "It was unpleasant for me as well," he added, after a hesitant, guarded moment. It was close enough to count, he thought.

When Hooded Justice touched his cheek, Nelson inhaled -- he caught the smell of blood but didn't mind it -- and briefly closed his eyes before he returned them to Hooded Justice's, feeling his heart thumping again, his stomach churning with nerves.

"Are you going to stay?" He asked softly, swallowing again. "I-I don't mind. I never... I didn't think you would really go for so long."

Foolish, maybe, but he hadn't been thinking rationally when it happened. Not at all. His cheeks burned a little before he spoke again, more quietly so that his voice almost disappeared.

"Nothing really happened, you know," he said, biting the corner of his lip. "With me and Frank."

The hand on his cheek was suddenly, perhaps, more a live asp than just a hand, the way his fingers tensed against him, the temptation to harm an instant reaction to bringing up Castle. He didn't, which was remarkable -- HJ knew he was on thin ice already -- although there was still his one card he held in a stacked deck, whenever he chose. Maybe later.

He didn't look away from Nelson, but there was a sort of harshness in his gaze. The one that said he wasn't sure what to believe, when it came to Nelson and Frank. "He did not seem to know what happened," he admitted, neutrally. Another point in favor of it being a brazen lie -- HJ didn't know which story he preferred. Then again, Nelson had been acting...odd that day.

"But," he ventured, voice a little lower. If he thought on Frank Castle, whether it was a lie or not, HJ felt angrier by the moment. He knew not to fixate on things that provoked his anger, especially in close quarters, in these circumstances. Later. He could be angry with Nelson later -- and he would. "I will stay," he paused, still his mind circled, nearly touching on the fact that at the least, Nelson had lied to him, to get him to leave.

His hand remained on his cheek. "You will not lie to me again," this time, there was a distinct firmness to his voice, coupled with a stroke of his thumb, against his cheek. For good measure.

There was something in how Hooded Justice moved that caused Nelson to flinch, to draw from his hand warily and closer to the wall; he dropped his gaze again, looking more flustered, biting the corner of his lip.

"I didn't lie, I-- I embellished," he said slowly, head bowed like a scolded child. "I wasn't thinking clearly, I-I wanted you-- I wanted to see if you'd be willing to fight for me. It was foolish of me, I know, I wasn't thinking, can--"

One hand gripped at Hooded Justice's cape, a fistful without Nelson really realizing he was doing it. He swallowed again, ran his tongue over his lips.

"Forgive me," he asked, voice quiet, lips pursed tensely. "I won't lie to you. B-but don't... don't ignore me. I want you," he added, touching Hooded Justice's cheek -- where it would be -- in return.

Surprisingly, he didn't flinch away, although when Nelson's hand slipped up, that was his first instinct, was to move, and his eyes said as much, holding impulse in check, if just barely. He wondered, if Nelson knew what he'd done, in the aftermath of his rage, when he'd left.

"I did attack Castle," he admitted, no shame to his voice, but perhaps somewhere between the barest thread of what HJ would call "funny" somewhere in the flatness of it. Mostly to see Castle's face when he'd taken him on out of nowhere.

"You didn't seem to earlier," he pointed out, as half-hearted as it was, just to be obstinate, just to solidify where they were. They were often fighting, after all, not that HJ necessarily cared about that, but living on the streets was -- he hated to admit it -- difficult these days. He shifted, brushing his hand on his shoulder, holding him there this time.

But -- He still hesitated. Nelson had always been more free with his words than HJ had, always left him three steps behind in conversation. "I am not ignoring you." Perhaps a touch obstinate.

Hooded Justice's words earned a frown and furrowed eyebrows, Nelson's look both skeptical and concerned. "That's not the kind of fighting I meant," he said finally, unsure about how he felt that it even needed saying. Not that it wasn't flattering... to some extent, but he did care for Frank too. In a different way. He didn't want either of them hurt.

He pursed his lips again, raising an eyebrow. "You should keep it that way," he added, wanting to keep his foot down on the matter that he would not settle for being dismissed all the time the same way he always had before. Things would be different now.

After another quiet moment of examining Hooded Justice with wide eyes, Nelson cleared his throat and said: "Then should we... go home? What--" He inhaled. "What next? What are we doing?"

HJ honestly didn't care where they went -- at this point. It was a rare moment of lucidity, for him. Sure, going home was probably preferable, with how long he'd been gone, but he couldn't find it in him to care more than only enough to lift a shoulder.

"Does it matter?" he asked, although with a look, another look, one that lingered, he shifted, turning slightly, and gestured, as if he were telling Nelson to start walking.

"Home is fine," he said simply. Home, of all things, still sounded alien to his tongue, still sounded off, and wrong, but it was something that existed. And if there were other people there -- HJ was surprisingly not in much of a mood to care.

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