longestnight | [audio] The traps will continue until (his) morale improves

Entry tags:

[audio] The traps will continue until (his) morale improves

[After a while, there's no need for anyone to keep too much of a close eye on Branch, despite the fact he was possibly one of the closest to death by the time they got to the Pole. By the time everyone else is feeling well enough to leave the Infirmary (albeit maybe with a limp in the case of some of them) he's still out but at least finally firmly stable. Breathing easily and far less pale. It's just that the sleep caused by the myth healing has him firmly knocked out for far longer than everyone else as all that extensive poison damage heals up.]

[Jack at least keeps occasionally checking in on him. He'd placed him in a little doll bed and placed that in a little dollhouse. The house is meant to make it so the troll won't just sleepily stumble out and fall right off the table or something before he's fully awake.]

[The problem is he hasn't noticed that one of the Elves noticed him initially tucking Branch away. And said Elf also keeps watching him go in and open up a little doll house. Bingle knows better, he knows he's not allowed in the Infirmary unless he wants to be helpful and has been given specific Infirmary-related instructions....but he also thinks that toy looks so adorable. And!!! Jack keeps playing with it and Jack liking the toy makes it seem even cooler!!! So after one of the times Jack closes up the little dollhouse again, and leaves the Infirmary Bingle jingles his way happily into the Infirmary after he's out of sight to go play with the toy...]

[A short time later, there is a whole lot of screaming. Terrified, Bingle drops what was in his hand, and runs out. Then what Bingle thought was a toy also runs out of the Infirmary and the rest...]

[The rest is the kind of mess that happens when a bunch of upsetting events running consecutively are filtered through a filter of high octane paranoia. Branch doesn't waste time after escaping his would-be murderer. Limping out of the room, he makes his way onto a hustling bustling floor filled with furry artisans. Looking around in awe at the strangeness of his surroundings is how he gets run over by some kind of toy car. Great. Wonderful. The injury jangles his leg even worse and causes it to break open the partially-healed snake bite gouge. But that's not about to slow him down.]

[Some stolen ribbon is tied over the bandage to put more pressure on the injury. (They must have bandaged it because they wanted him to live long enough to clear the poison.) His hair is quietly washed in the as-of-yet unused paintbrush water of a yeti setting up a table to paint toys. Then he smears green and red paint on his body and more bits and bobbles, pieces of ribbon and tinsel and pine are used as camouflage all over his body. The place is littered with garlands and scraps of ribbon and tinsel. It genuinely lets him blend. All he has to do is stop moving and then he looks like all the rest of the detritus and garland on the tables and floors.]

[He blends enough that he manages to limp to one of the windows and see what's waiting for him outside without being seen. The view is devastating and makes him realize he has to change his tack.]

[He figures out the comm devices the hairy guys are making are important by silently watching a yeti test one out, including by using some kind of... listening devices with it? Ones that go in the ears? When the yeti's back is turned, both the larger watch device and the two ear-things are stolen, as is the box and instructions for the ear things. And Branch spends the better part of an hour figuring out what it's all for, how to sync the devices, how to use the mic on the one ear bud, and how the menus are navigated - including how to navigate them by tapping the earbud certain ways without touching the comm watch.]

[Then he looks out on what is to become a battlefield, a place to lay waste to his enemies, and starts to get to work. It takes him the better part of a few hours to prepare, the large space of time between anyone possibly thinking to check on him in the Infirmary. He has to use his hair to do most of the traveling because of the shape his leg is in but he pushes his way through it.]

[Then the first casualties start rolling in. The Elves and the yetis, the most numerous of the Pole's residents and most prone to roaming around, are disproportionately affected. The first trap is tripped by an Elf. Somehow the Elf is successfully netted to the ground in a weighted net made of volleyball netting. A yeti trips a trap that causes a cascade of marbles that causes a whole group of yetis to slip and fall. A snare trap somehow whips someone upside down. Super soakers full of lemon juice are activated by a tripwire to squirt the juice in someone's face as they walk by.]

[The traps are all harmful but not permanently damaging. There are no traps that might make people fall over railings or down stairs. Nothing will permanently scald anyone and even if things cause pain and irritation they don't cause permanent damage. And it's possible to avoid tripping traps, certainly. After all, most of the traps are in the busiest areas of the Pole, and not quieter ones prone to relaxation. There's no point in hunting the hunters if you do it in places where they don't heavily congregate.]

[But for those in the more heavily trap-set areas: visible chaos erupts. The Elves and the yetis are clearly panicking. Then, in explanation, a voice comes over the new comms, in audio only, spoken over the mic of a single Samsung earbud. A few of them might recognize said voice from their time in the Multi-plex or before.]

Yeah, hi, all those traps going off around you? Those are mine and I work fast. I guaran-flipping-tee you there are a whole lot more of them than you think. Pick a random number, then quadruple it, because that's what I did when deciding how many to set. And I'll keep setting more the longer my demands go unmet.

Now I'm sure some of you are thinking "well, I can avoid all the traps." Maybe true for you, but your ugly, pointy-headed little children and the big hairy guys sure seem to be running into them. And wow, they are really freaking out right now.

So we're going to do this my way. If you want it to stop anytime soon, you'll do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you don't do what I say, I will make it worse.

[Branch is about to limp around and be a problem.]

[Yippee-Ki-Yay.]

[ooc: Threadhopping is encouraged. The main negotiations will happen with Miguel playing hostage negotiator, but anyone can talk to Branch. He can't see anything because it's all audio but he'll definitely gloat if he hears someone get trapped while on the comms with him, completely endearing himself to them instantly, I'm sure. All the traps will be inconvenient, annoying, and maybe slightly painful but not cause any genuine risk to life and limb - yet.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Welcome to the wild world of lower terminal velocity, Tim. It is pretty helpful for not going squish when falling.]

[Branch swings down by his hair into view, chilling out on a bench near one of the work tables.]

Hi. Hey. So is that a thing with you. You shrink when you sneeze?

[ He’ll appreciate it later, although he’s putting the dots together for himself when Branch appears. ]

I…

[ Tim sinks his hand deliberately between the large fibers as far as it will go. Nearly to his elbow. ]

It’s not normally a thing. You didn’t enchant the finger trap?

Nope. Magic exists in my world and trolls have magic in them but it's mostly just an us thing.

[It's more just something that subtly physically affects their bodies.]

We can't exert it on anyone else.

[He looks thoughtful.]

My hair changed here. It's stronger. Maybe this place changed you too?

[ Standing up, Tim dusts himself off. There’s a piece of lint on his head the size of a dinner plate. ]

So you couldn’t strangle shadow demons with your hair before?

[ Tim nudges his communicator with his foot. It moves much faster than he would have expected, given his size. Definitely not a superstrength, but maybe he’s more like an ant? ]

It’s changed me, too, but I thought it just took the metahuman abilities away. Apparently, it also took away height.

[ He’s disappointed- healing was a handy thing to have, but it was never really his. Tim’s just trying to not freak out about being small in front of someone whose default state is small and who’s already having a bad day. ]

Interesting, Interesting.

[With that, Branch's hair suddenly whips out, bridging the distance between them and if Tim doesn't successfully dodge, it'll completely wrap around him like he's a mummy, leaving only his head and feet sticking out.]

[ He does not, in fact, successfully dodge. Partly because he’s tired, partly because he’s because he doesn’t think the troll is a genuine threat. The traps he seen and seen reported before this moment have been relatively harmless but clever, and - while he wanted to stop them before someone got hurt - they could easily have been designed to make injuries more likely.

(He does try to make sure he’s got one hand sticking out through the hair.)

He’s also desperately curious to see where this goes, admittedly. It’s giving baby’s first heist. Imagine Gotham held hostage by a flea circus. This is an opportunity. ]

And we were becoming such good friends.

[Branch pulls him in closer, hair dangling him from overhead so they can look eye to eye. He's smart enough to not pull him close enough for a head butt, but not shocking when he's been a proper little supervillain so far. Maybe harmless like Condiment King, but effective at the wide-scale chaos he's trying to cause.]

[Elves and yetis are still running around the place in a panic. He's definitely created the level of chaos he set out to.]

[And after Miguel's last little message he's escalating things.]

Sorry, nothing personal, but I need more leverage. I promise I won't hurt you. Once I've got some kind of transport out of here, I'll tell them where I stashed you right before I leave so they can let you out.

[Hair wraps around Tim's mouth as a gag because he's not stupid enough to let him remain able to scream. They can talk when he's got him squirreled away like a walnut.]

[Then he carries him along. He keeps him down by his side so he doesn't have a huge shape blocking his view of overhead, the most important place to worry about line of sight from. Down by his side, he can always rotate him around to look past him to the left or right. He keeps him just far enough away that he wouldn't quite be in arms' reach if he managed to get an arm free to take a swing. But Tim will find breaking free close to impossible; the hair may as well be steel cord.]

[Unable to use his hair to travel, he has an obvious limp as he moves about. He's clearly used to working stealthily - in fact, the way he observes his environment and moves from shadow to shadow, ever observant about blocking line of sight in multiple directions, wouldn't be remiss among the Batfam. But it's not the movements of a hunter, it's the mouse-like movements of something used to being prey. It's treated as absolute life or death.]

[It takes some time but not far from one of several little boltholes he's staked out, he sees something useful and drags it into his little hole. It takes another trip or two to get everything else he needs.]

[By the time he's done moving things into what looks like just a natural gap in the massive lumber that makes up the Pole's walls, like an unused mouse den, he's pale and sweating. He'd woken up but that's not the same as being healthy enough to be up and about. He's out of the woods, but unwell like some of the others still recovering.]

[In the end, he decides Tim's prison will be one of those little critter cages used to catch bugs, one of the ones that has a door that actually seals. After tossing in a small piece of a cookie and a little stoppered glass bottle with a few drops of water (the kind of tiny bottle used in jewelry), he jams the door shut from the outside with an improvised shim made from a tiny key from a diary, hammering it in with a rubber ducky Monopoly piece.]

Don't bother trying to yell, I picked this place because you can barely hear anything from inside.

[He'd tested it by briefly putting his little ear bud/mic in there and going outside to listen as other people talked at him.]

[Noticing he's starting to bleed through yet another ribbon on his leg, he sits down heavily against the large container of chili powder he stole - his possession of which he's about to brag about to Miguel shortly - to replace it with the ribbons he'd squirreled away in here. The bandage underneath has long since soaked through with blood. He's kept it on for the pressure. The ribbons are a poor substitute for more bandages.]

[It paints a rather desperate picture, that he'd not just refuse to trust and accept help, he'd limp around on a hurt leg and make it worse to avoid anyone trying.]

[Far be it from the little asshole imp he's being pictured as by some he just looks hurt, sick, stressed, and exhausted, the premature worry lines on his face furrowed and deep.]

Edited 2023-08-25 10:03 (UTC)

[ Nothing personal. Just tied up in your hair. This all feels very impersonal, and Tim’s about to say something when the hair gags him.

He mouths “Really?” Underneath the hair. Because, really?? this has to be one of the more off-putting ways to be abducted. The hair tickles his nose, and Tim valiantly tries to hold in the sneeze.

(For his own sake. He doesn’t care about getting snot on Branch’s hair, but he’d prefer to not have his face rubbed in it.)

(He has kidnapping standards.)

(Also, I’m not going to hurt you has never been reassuring.)

He’s certainly safe for now, because he does need leverage. No one’s been taking him that seriously. A hostage will do the trick.

(And something’s made Tim travel-sized. Conveniently kidnappable. Might as well be wearing pixie boots.)

There’s no struggling along the way, beyond craning his head for a better view at what they’re passing. Gauging distance. He’ll work out the scale mentally later. And watching Branch, who doesn’t seem to have the physical ability for such a hands on addiction.

Just politely being taken to a secondary location.

(His comm was recording when he dropped it. It might still be - but it’s normal sized and left behind. )

Better keep Branch here, then, so someone else can find it.

(Probably an elf, with his luck.)

Tim immediately starts to walking the perimeter of bug habitat, scuffing the shiny grey plastic with his rubber soled slippers. Squeak squeak squeak. It would probably be bright green in brighter lighting.

(Nothing to do with being heard. Just wanting to incentivize letting out of the damn thing.)

Although, if he gets accommodated to the sound, Tim will try warping the plastic. ]

So. Big fan of blackout conditions during the day, and you should probably know I’m a trained field medic.

[Branch rolls his eyes at the blackout conditions thing but would actually agree to it if he planned to keep him long.]

I'd find a blanket to toss over your cage if you really needed to be treated like a bird, but I don't intend to keep you trapped that long. If grabbing you doesn't get me somewhere, I'm just going to drag your cage somewhere random and tell them where I put you. I'll just stop using this bolthole.

[He means it. There's no point in keeping Tim hostage if it ultimately doesn't motivate anyone to give him what he wants.]

I also don't know what a field medic is. [His people don't have that many medical roles, what with just being one village.] But if it's something medical like a - a doctor or a healer, I'll be fine.

[They're interrupted when there's a squeal of an Elf in the near distance and Branch reacts...badly, nearly jumping out of his skin and darting over to the little entrance of the bolt hole to sneakily peer out and see if it was a squeal of discovery or perhaps one of the Elves getting caught in a trap in the distance instead.]

[There are three ways someone reacts that fast to some kind of alarming stimuli: superspeed (which he obviously doesn't have), training (which he doesn't really seem to have, since he's stealthy but not exactly graceful), or hypervigilance.]

[As he stands there, breathing hard, the ear nearest the door twitches and scans around like an animal's, suggesting that maybe that's what the very large ears evolved for: avoiding being prey. Then he finally seems satisfied that they haven't been found.]

[...but not satisfied enough to just relax when he needs a moment to rest. He finally starts talking again as he gets to work, carrying over several thumb tacks he found and putting them in front of the entrance, points upward. Something that would make someone's hand withdraw if they try to slip it in, maybe with just enough time for him to slip out and make a break for it between their feet.]

I'm not stupid. I don't care if you can do medical stuff. I'm not going to let you get close enough to attack me.

[Everything is paranoia. Everything is a potential attack.]

I'd rather have a blanket inside the cage.

[ Again, bare plastic floor. He's gone from being firmly planted on a couch with surprisingly warm quilts to a caterpillar condo, and it's not great. Tim's keeping his tongue between his teeth on one side to keep them from chattering.

The planned release is leaving Tim in the cage and telling people where he is? Yeah, it's not the kindest plan to leave someone in a cage, even if you're supposedly going to tell them where you left them. Too much can go wrong.

The sound of the elf makes Tim jump as well, but more because he's worried about being mistaken for a toy - he is inside a toy, after all - and put away. The elves... aren't bright.

But he watches Branch. The shortness of breath, the ears... it's one thing to be "paranoid" and aware of your surroundings (nothing wrong with that at all), but the troll is reading two ticks away from a panic attack. Not great. Less room to try to chat if he doesn't want to push him into more extreme behavior. ]

If I was going to try to attack you, I would've done it when you grabbed me. I'm sick, Branch. I barely did anything for 3 days, and I still feel wrung out. Frankly, I think your hair tips the scales in anything close quarters. Attacking you accomplishes nothing.

[ Without something to compete with the hair, an immediate attack is a stupid plan. He's better off trying to make himself useful and try to befriend him in hopes of de-escalating the situation. ]

You're limping. Just let me take a look. I can clean it and fix the bandages. You've got your hair and the thumbtacks. I'm the one running the risk of the jumpy guy attacking me.

I already told you, I'm not going to hurt you.

[His voice is at least measured and calm as he says it, despite his nervousness. It is something he's very sure of.]

[Still, Branch thinks, he does look sick.]

[Obvious guilt play out over Branch's face, as he sits there for a second, considering. But ultimately, he stuffs the earbud he's been using to communicate in his hair for storage, shoves aside a few of the thumb tacks and just walks out the entrance. Wordlessly.]

[Outside, after a message or two to Miguel and a short moment of setting up some shenaniganry, he comes back. His arms are completely full of things that look soft and fluffy. He dumps them near the door of the critter cage, then goes back and replaces all the thumb tacks near the entrance of the bolthole.]

[When he turns back, his expression is still guilt-riddled. And gentle, even though he's anxious and desperate enough to do all this.]

I have stuff for you.

[He brought a few things to make him comfortable that he plans to shove in. A giant faux furry coat from a Ken Doll, a little quilted blanket from some kind of dolly playset, and a large Christmas-themed fleece sock, slightly cushioned and comfortable for sitting on.]

[He goes back to the critter cage and reaches for the shim to pull it out again, but waits.]

I'm not letting you touch my leg, though. Move all the way to the back, away from the door.

[ When Branch up and leaves with no explanation as to where he's going or when he'll return -

(Which admittedly is the best way to run this sort of operation.)

Tim started worrying the plastic mesh of the cage. It's the kind of bendable plastic that eventually can be made to bend until it breaks, but "eventually" is will take some time. When Branch returns, he stops, although not as early as he would've liked. He didn't hear him coming - just saw him in the entrance of the hidey hole. For someone who looks comparatively dense (troll morphology being extremely different from human), he's quiet. Maybe something to do with their weight. Mice make noise, but it's more to do with their claws and rustling objects.

Tempting as it is to refuse to move and attack his captor, that won't help Branch in the long run no matter how it goes, or to refuse to move and demand reciprocal trust, they aren't there yet.

He makes a show of holding up empty hands and stepping back against the far corner, body covering where he'd been flexing the plastic. ]

I'm not going to tackle you and do anything to your leg. You're the one who kidnapped me. I'm suddenly 1:18 size. Why are you afraid of me?

Because you're only small now. You don't know what it's like when you're like me. Like my people.

[He hammers out the shim, eyeballs him carefully to make sure he's still not moving, then opens the door and shoves it all in, closing the door and hammering in the shim again after.]

You're still one of them. And maybe you had nothing to do with what happened! I don't know! But what I do know is that some big people can't be trusted.

[He sits down again, because he's tired and he needs to eat and drink after running around, especially with the blood loss. He roots through the dried fruit, carefully sniffing it before risking eating it. Fortunately, his sense of smell is better than a human's and he can tell it hasn't been laced with anything.]

[He shoves a dried cranberry in his mouth and says around a full mouth:]

I've always known that.

And since I don't know why I'm this height now, you don't know if this is permanent for me or not. So let's leave height and people out of it, because my world doesn't have trolls, so there's no way you know my people either.

[ The request to move to the other side was overkill, if all Branch was going to do was throw things in and slam it again. The chance of successfully bumrushing a wad of fluffy materials that nearly filled the entire doorway was low. ]

I haven't given you any reason to not trust me. I encouraged you to let us disable the traps and have been a model kidnappee. I could've made it difficult.

[ The fur coat is nudged with his slipper. ]

Is this coated in itching powder?

What? No! Do you think I'm just pranking people? I'm doing all this for a reason. One of them tried to kill me; I'm just trying to survive.

It's just a stupid coat; it looked warm.

[Nothing is wrong with anything he piled in there and it's all indeed warm and soft, no prankery afoot.]

And it doesn't matter that you hu-mans or whatever are different from the Bergens. You're not that different. You only look a little different.

[That is not true but it's one of those "these two groups of people are kind of ugly by my people's standards and therefore look sort of similar in my eyes."]

You know that guy that keeps arguing with me over the messages, spider skull guy? He chased and grabbed me for no reason when we both first showed up. Just because he wanted answers. He didn't care that I was scared he was coming after me, or that I didn't want to talk to him, or that I didn't know anything. He didn't care that I was very obviously trying to run and escape.

And when I tried to fight back, just to give myself enough space to get away, it only made him angrier.

It is a size thing. It's always a size thing. Maybe not every big person is a psycho but being three inches tall [he pushes his hair back slightly to show he means to exclude the hair] and unable to fight back sure is an easy way of finding out which ones are.

[And there it is. When you're small and vulnerable, there will be people that take advantage, just like there are people that specifically target other vulnerable groups of people, regardless of the particular ways they're vulnerable, whether it's by size, physical capacity to fight back, or vulnerable demographic.]

[There are always people that do it. Because they can. Because it makes them feel powerful. Or because it's just...expedient.]

It's not just about species, it's about power. [And power differentials.] So I get that you want me to ignore things back home but I can't. Because nothing's different here. There are still people that can't put themselves in my place.

And back home? The big people that couldn't do that? They used to keep us caged in the Troll Tree and kill us. Lots of us. Over generations until we escaped.

[Which paints a different picture than just "some big people couldn't be trusted/tried to hurt us." It is something far more systematic and inhumane. The kind of thing that might leave someone twitchy and paranoid for life.]

Edited 2023-08-27 14:24 (UTC)

[ There's a lot to dissect in that monologue. Tim keeps his mouth shut and listens, doesn't move to even pick up the coat until Branch is done.

Then, he puts the coat on - fully puts his arms in the sleeves, even though he knows by looking that they're too long and will cover his hands. He wants to look young and harmless and small (even to someone the same height - oversized clothes will do that). The coat pools behind him like a train. ]

Okay - in most important order. No one here's going to kill you. I know at least half a dozen of the people here from before, so if you want clear descriptions of who you can observe to see if they're safe, I can do that for you.

[ Probably best to steer him at the angel first. Go with the safe bet. ]

The spider skull guy is intimidating at any size. I don't think he's used to working with other people.

[ You know. Like other people in this mousehole who shall remain nameless. ]

I don't know what a Bergen is.

[ It's a Dutch surname. What with species blindness, Tim doubts that Branch would different between American and Dutch and elects to not share that knowledge. Bergens are likely bipedal humanoids but not human. ]

There are elements of pranking to most of your traps. I know you're working with the supplies available, but the overall affect is "adorable menace" right now. It's not going to get them to take you seriously - which is probably for the best. It means the dynamic is fixable.

One, someone already tried! Can you honestly tell me that none - and I mean none - of the people you know from before have done anything shady to anyone?

[Like consecrated salt in the meat and attempted exorcism?]

And what about the other half of them? The ones you don't know?

And that's if I can trust you.

Two, spider skull guy may not be used to working people but I bet he can't pick the rest of you up and crush you like an overripe fluffleberry without even thinking about it!

[Yes, he said fluffleberry. Even the flora back in his home sounds cutesy and exactly what you'd expect in the forest of a big-headed woodland critter in a leaf vest. (When you're trying to be taken seriously, it's a curse.)]

Three, the Bergens are the big people back home. They were the same size as hu-mans and had streets a lot like the one we all showed up near.

[IE they lived in a civilization that looked near-human.]

Four, of course they're mostly harmless! [He throws his hands in the air.] I'm not trying to actually hurt anyone, especially with the little kids in the pointy hats running around. Obviously, they have some kind of massive artisanal manufacturing operation going on, though. I figured if I could be disruptive enough to it, that might be enough to get people to let me go.

And those hairy guys are fuh-reaking out so I know I'm onto something.

[It's not actually a bad plan for someone that doesn't want to cause anyone harm. He's disrupting important local manufacturing.]

I'm going to ask for your definition of "know" in that case. I'm not presenting my earth as a utopia. I've met hideous murderers. I know all about them. I'm not their friend, and they don't know me. The vast majority of humans live good lives and don't hurt others.

So, that's continued honesty from me. I haven't given you any reason to not trust me, except for my former status as "big" and indeterminate future. Which I'm hoping isn't any time soon. If I revert in here, I might end up impaled. I know you're not concerned about that, but I am.

[ (Actually, if it operates on similar metaphysics to Bart's phasing or Bumblebee's size changes, it should be impossible for him to get stuck. But they don't know that.)

Tim is arranging the sock in the corner, trying to get it folded in such a way that he could sit and still have the sock between him and the plastic back of the trap, with the netting on his righthand side. ]

I don't know about Spider Skull. I've lived and worked with people who could crush me like a raspberry if they wanted to - when I'm my normal size - but they're good people, so they don't want to. I trust them with my life and that's not just because I have to because they're strong. One of them is here.

You say of course like I have a reason to trust that you mean any of that. You could just be resource-constrained and trying to make me into a more docile captive. The elves aren't human, just so you know, so please don't hold what they do against me. I don't think they're intellectually gifted.

[ Tim sits on his makeshift sockseat like it's a beanbag chair, but with the prim posture of someone who's trying to maintain some semblance of control (in his fur coat and sockseat, as he drapes a Calico Critters blanket on his legs). He'll take his dignity where he can get it. ]

Out there isn't going to be safer for you.

[The way Branch's eye pop open wide made it clear that Tim's right, he hadn't thought about Tim reverting back. The twitch of horror to his expression makes it clear that he doesn't want that to happen. Not only would he probably get crushed too, he just doesn't want to hurt anyone else.]

In here isn't safe either! Nowhere is safe! [Just home is, with the friends who would hate who he's being right now. Especially the best friend who would be stamping her foot down and putting her hands on her hips and saying "Branchifer!!!" in her best irate, queenly lecturing voice.] But at least maybe out there it'll be harder for anyone to find me. I don't believe the thing about tracking.

And I'm good at hiding. I hid from the Bergens for 10 years.

[Branch gets up to work on gathering some last few supplies and then taking a piece of pencil led to write something on a scrap of paper.]

Look, you don't trust me, I don't trust you. Fine. It won't matter soon, anyway. I'm bringing you with me to the meeting. That way even if they kill me, you can still go free.

[He grumbles.]

I don't even know why I'm bothering trying to explain anything. [He shakes his head, stopping his frenzied movement, looking embarrassed at his own foolishness.] I guess I just - I just had this stupid idea that if one of you could see the world from my point of view now, you would understand the danger.

[But it's not enough.]

And there is danger. Even for you. After I'm gone - one way or another - you need to watch your back if you're stuck like this, or can't control times you're like this.

[The warning is meant to genuinely help him.]

If you can genuinely trust that person that can squish you at normal size, in the future, don't ever leave their side when you're like this.

[ Okay, at least Branch is willing to listen to potential problems that Tim puts forward. He can't expect to think of everything during what is clearly a very spur-of-the-moment kidnapping (if he's telling the truth that he didn't shrink Tim).

(Which the statement about wanting to someone to see his perspective belies.) ]

I believe the tracking thing. Whether it's technological or magical, it's absolutely possible to track people across the globe. I don't care if you stay or go in the end, but you need to take that seriously. We didn't arrive at the same place, but we were all drawn into that movie theater. Can't do that kind of mass teleportation if you don't know where everyone is.

[ It's just solid advice to add it to the things to be paranoid about, rather than dismiss it. ]

If you want to be pedantic, yes, nowhere is safe, but that nowhere would include whatever your final destination hideout is even if they give you transport and you move to a warmer latitude that doesn't feature permafrost and polar bears. There could be an earthquake. The Yellowstone Caldera supervolcano could erupt. So like you said, nowhere is safe.

I might not be the best person to try to understand. Size aside, I'm a little...

[ Paranoid. ]

Suspicious of people by nature, and my hometown is obscenely high crime. Gotham's so bad it got kicked out of the country once. So... I'm sort of steeped in it, and I've only been this size, what? A half hour? I haven't even come to grips with it yet.

[ Dryly, but not meanly, Tim continues to lightly press.

He's my boyfriend. He has a vested interest in not hurting me. Look, they're not going to kill you. You haven't done anything worth a death sentence, and I'm willing to keep my mouth shut about being kidnapped if you (1) ask that Conner Kent or Dick Grayson attend the meeting, because they won't anybody kill anybody just so you can feel reassured not because I believe it's likely, (2) promise me you're not going to kidnap anyone else if this doesn't go entirely your way, and (3) don't permanently burn any bridges. There's at least two people here familiar with multiverse travel. We might be your best way home.

[If the tracking thing is real but if they can teach the kid, then he can still get the anti-tracking protection from him. But he can't trust them, especially with the other concerns he now has.]

[He can't voice those in particular, though, because they'd betray that Boba even reached out to him and he is about to hand Tim a microphone.]

I'm not kidnapping anyone else. [He's a good liar, and it also just...doesn't count if you're saving them and they want to leave.] But I am seeing this through.

I'll take my chances out there.

[As much as he wants to go home and someone familiar with "multiverse travel" might have better chances of helping, it will be useless if he's dead. He just has to hope that the universe cuts him a break down the line and lets him go, too, just like he's trying to get these people to let him go.]

[He pulls the ear bud out of his hair and holds up the paper he was writing on against the side of the cage, readable through the mesh.]

In a second, after I talk to skull guy, you're going to read this into the mic. The alternative, if you refuse to say anything, is I just tell them where your little device thingy fell and everyone gets to extra freak out.

Everyone will be better off if they actually hear from you. Including your boyfriend.

[He's not just trying to burn this bridge, he's pouring rocket fuel on it first.]

Don't get any ideas about saying where we are; I can cut it off with a tap.

Continued here.

Edited 2023-08-27 19:13 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[audio] The traps will continue until (his) morale improves

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject