Work Text:
The camera autofocuses. Wherever the video was recorded, it was a shithole; Jack grimaces at the melting wallpaper and shitty light. It was definitely Mold-tropolis in there.
Somebody steps in front of the camera and sits down- guy's built like a brick shithouse. The camera autofocuses again.
The red helmet's impassive as fuck, but the guy sounds gleeful when he says, "Get ready with me to fuck up Batman's entire week."
Hood lifts a big-ass knife to the camera, holding it against his forearm. His thumb is holding the handle in his palm, and the whole effect is just a big fucking guy holding a big fucking knife- seriously, the thing might qualify as a machete.
"This is a Big Brother Kraton G. The first run's not bad, but the size doesn't make the cut." He pauses, and the helmet tilts, just a little.
"Not a pun. Anyway, the Big Brother can cut a man's spinal cord from the front, so the extra length is helpful."
He flips the knife up into his hand and sets it down, picks up another one the same way.
"This is a KHATOOL Gen.2, these puppies can cut through grappling lines like fucking butter."
He laughs, crackling through the helmet's speakers. "Or, they could. The Bat's probably fixed that by now."
The knife's matte surface doesn't catch the light, but the edges on the ridges and the fucking blade sure do. Jack is kind of fascinated. That knife is really fucking pretty.
"Tune in next time to see how I mix up smoke pellets that get through Batman's rebreathers," Hood says.
"Also, if you see this- Bat, this isn't my actual apartment. Stop kicking down doors in Tricorner, I don't live here and nobody can afford to fix their fucking doors."
The screen cuts to black. Jack squints blearily at nothing. This smells like some teenage bullshit to him, but Hood was a big fucking dude. Teenagers could be big… but maybe not linebacker-big.
Whatever. Jack clicks onto the next video, some guy in a woodworking shop explaining how to build tables.