Omi couldn't believe it. Wide-eyed and dumbstruck, he watched Batman turn and leave. Leave him completely alone, with an open window and a personally offered means of escaping through it.
It was a meaningful gesture. Until then, efforts to work with them, to trust them and hope for something back, had all gone ignored. Leaving the window open and the hook in reach was an extension of trust. Of course Omi did not think he was really being left unsupervised. At the same time, that didn't change the measure of risk that he would take advantage of the chance and try to escape. If he was good-- really good-- he might even succeed.
But that didn't answer the real underlying question that had so depressed him moments earlier: even if he were free again, where would he go? Weiss was supposed to be where he belonged, the group that, under Kritiker, took care of him in exchange for his loyalty and service. And it was a cause that deep down he still believed in. There were unforgivably horrible criminals out there and they had to be stopped. It wasn't a glamorous job, it wasn't even something he could call a moral right anymore, but it was a necessary evil in their city. Someone had to do it. Why shouldn't it be someone with nothing left to lose? Wasn't it selfish to not give his existence to helping others stay safe, when for all intents and purposes he was already dead anyway?
But if what Robin said was true... that wasn't really how it worked. But that left no community or group at all. Weiss were the only friends he had close enough that he could run to them. He had no family. No church group. No other jobs. No school clubs.
Without Weiss, Omi was completely alone. And without its cause, he was completely empty.
After a few moments, he looked at the IV in his wrist and picked at the tape securing it. He peeled it back, pulling the needle from his hand. Leaving it alone, he went to the sink on the other side of the room to take a drink and rinse off the spot of blood on his hand. He looked at the window and the grappling hook sitting on the ledge, staring at it with a frown.
He thought he understood what Batman was trying to say. If he had to tell him what the right answer was... and it wasn't any better if he had no opportunity to choose the wrong one, was it? But what did it even matter anymore if he left?
He walked to the window and picked up the hook, and for just a moment, he looked out the window, down at the drop. It could easily be managed with the tool Batman left. For one morbid moment, Omi even thought of forgoing the hook and jumping to his death.
Then he set the hook on the counter by the sink, pulled a chair over to the window, and sat backwards in it with his arms folded across the cleared sill. He put his head down and watched the city, the breeze cool against his face as it shifted his bangs. The songs of birds whistled past his ears.
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It was a meaningful gesture. Until then, efforts to work with them, to trust them and hope for something back, had all gone ignored. Leaving the window open and the hook in reach was an extension of trust. Of course Omi did not think he was really being left unsupervised. At the same time, that didn't change the measure of risk that he would take advantage of the chance and try to escape. If he was good-- really good-- he might even succeed.
But that didn't answer the real underlying question that had so depressed him moments earlier: even if he were free again, where would he go? Weiss was supposed to be where he belonged, the group that, under Kritiker, took care of him in exchange for his loyalty and service. And it was a cause that deep down he still believed in. There were unforgivably horrible criminals out there and they had to be stopped. It wasn't a glamorous job, it wasn't even something he could call a moral right anymore, but it was a necessary evil in their city. Someone had to do it. Why shouldn't it be someone with nothing left to lose? Wasn't it selfish to not give his existence to helping others stay safe, when for all intents and purposes he was already dead anyway?
But if what Robin said was true... that wasn't really how it worked. But that left no community or group at all. Weiss were the only friends he had close enough that he could run to them. He had no family. No church group. No other jobs. No school clubs.
Without Weiss, Omi was completely alone. And without its cause, he was completely empty.
After a few moments, he looked at the IV in his wrist and picked at the tape securing it. He peeled it back, pulling the needle from his hand. Leaving it alone, he went to the sink on the other side of the room to take a drink and rinse off the spot of blood on his hand. He looked at the window and the grappling hook sitting on the ledge, staring at it with a frown.
He thought he understood what Batman was trying to say. If he had to tell him what the right answer was... and it wasn't any better if he had no opportunity to choose the wrong one, was it? But what did it even matter anymore if he left?
He walked to the window and picked up the hook, and for just a moment, he looked out the window, down at the drop. It could easily be managed with the tool Batman left. For one morbid moment, Omi even thought of forgoing the hook and jumping to his death.
Then he set the hook on the counter by the sink, pulled a chair over to the window, and sat backwards in it with his arms folded across the cleared sill. He put his head down and watched the city, the breeze cool against his face as it shifted his bangs. The songs of birds whistled past his ears.