The audacity of the question made him sneer with vindication. Roy jilted his head back and lowered the visor of his cap to overshadow his eyes but in no way obscure his vision. Jason may have been good with using weapons but his own time as Arsenal had allowed him to learn a multitude of weapon building skills that were often undermined by his team mate, or overlooked.
The way that he rustled amongst the items in desperation did eclipse the hardcore edge that was more prominent but that was for a ephemeral moment. The demanding inflection did bother him since it was a constant intimation of his own mentor, of whom was reputable for his constant mistreatment of Roy during his days as Speedy, and during his time of struggle.
“Those look far from weapons and they look more like a mess that you’re slamming together in hopes that they make an effective tool.”
He exchanges another judgemental stare-down.
“Mind your own business." disdain and disobedience lumbered.
The discomfort and the fact that the archer hid his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Jason. Roy sure had a record of showing disobedience and not following Green Arrow’s orders; he was the same, he was nothing like Dick, and after he came back and took a look at Tim, he decided that he wasn’t what people would call Batman’s typical sidekick. Not that it bothered him, he wanted to differ, and after he took the mantle of the Red Hood, he did everything to separate himself from Bruce, even though he did try to win the cowl when he disappeared. Of course Dick would end up being the Batman in the end.
Still, sometimes he questioned why he was so authoritative over his team members, the two people he considered friends. Was it because he felt responsible for them? Because he didn’t want to see them gone, just like Bruce did to him? He knew that Roy had his fair share of arguments with Ollie, but he wasn’t someone who would sit the other young man down and ask him to talk about it.
"What am I supposed to do anyway? Nobody knows where those ‘scientists’ are, I can find them and knock down their door and demand to get our weapons back. I have to improvise. Get weapons from someone else around here.”
His eyes narrowed at the sound of Roy’s voice; of course, he was still pissed off. Typical Roy.
“Well, did you do anything useful? Found out anything? Anything about Kori?”
The resident archer was without a bow and arrow that he could use which was nothing but a momentary restraint that he could leap over with ease once he had located the arsenal of the city which was proving a difficult task with the numerous distractions that wept with positivity, the attribute that had become foreign to him in Star City. He had no choice but to envelop himself in the foreign emotion for the time being and partake in a a hobby that used to earn him money; music. inward to the City he gained nothing but satisfaction for displaying his talent, and perhaps he had gained allies.
Riddled with rage that lingered from their last run in, Roy noticed the scavenger digging about in trash cans for resources in the post-apocalyptic fashion that he had only seen in stories. This was after his trip to the music store that he was kindly delineated by a young rockstar. Now in the back alleys the raccoon eyed creature cleared and the shadows faded as he took a step closer, hearing the mutter of frustration from a familiar face, the very man that had annoyed within the first few days of the being within the boundaries of the city and seemingly turned against him or left him, once more it was a feeling that he was accustomed to.
Imperiously one hand had folded over the other in a judgemental rhythm.
“What are you doing?”
Jason couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh when he heard the annoyingly chirpy voice if his archer partner; Roy would always be the talkative one during their missions, and Jason would often just block him, focusing on what mattered at that time. Not that he didn’t appreciate a good joke, he would often speak rather sarcastically himself, and he was way less expressionless under that helmet of his, which he couldn’t bring himself to wear just yet. There was a simply philosophy that he learnt to live by, and that was to consider pretty much everyone an enemy and someone who was disposable.
He didn’t reply just yet, not until he was relatively satisfied with his makeshift weapon; then he actually turned around and faced the ginger, who seemed in a better mood than a couple of days ago, something that didn’t exactly sit well with him. It may have bugged him that Roy didn’t make an effort to look out of him when he walked away in annoyance, saying to him that he wasn’t doing anything useful at all, and didn’t seem willing to contribute in their escape either. If he was off rubbing shoulders with the locals, that would be fine, every man for himself, right? That was way their trio would get into more fights and trouble than avoiding them anyway. Maybe that last part was wrong, he was the one attracting said danger anyway.
"What do you think I’m doing? Making an weaponry. From scratch.”, he pointed out, stepping out, closer to the street light. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Sponsor… heh, yeah man.” Not like Noisemaster actually had any money.
“Bustin’ out, huh?” Noisemaster repeated. That sounded like a pretty good idea. … In fact, it sounded like one of the most rational ideas Noisemaster had heard from anyone since entering the city. Why didn’t everyone just break out? He actually had to take a few seconds to think about that. The Scientists had to have some kind of measures in place to keep people inside this cage of a ‘social experiment’, but from what Noisemaster had seen, there were people—or creatures—who had to have the power or skill to get past. What if Red actually managed to do it? Noisemaster’s ego was big enough for him to think that if Red could do it, he could do it too. But where would he go? Back to Dreamside? Screw that noise.
He realized that he was being unusually quiet. “Ya got a plan all lined up ‘r ya gonna wing it?“ he asked.
"Yeah. Why, is that weird? Nobody tried it before?”, he asked. He found it impossible that people just decided to comply and obey to those white coats, staying in that city and accepting the fact that their belongings were taken away from them. He knew that he didn’t like that and that he would stop at nothing to get what belonged to him. He wasn’t afraid o use violence; if he had to get rid of some people on his way there, he would just shrug and do it. Sure, some of them were bigger and more powerful than he was, but did that ever stop him? No, not really, only a few people knew of what he was capable of and how far he would go to get what he wanted. His freedom was one of those things, especially when he felt like a damn rat in that place. He hated being observed and used, and even if he seemed relatively calm, he wasn’t really.
“Plan? I’m going to bust in and demand that they let me go. Give me back my stuff. If they don’t accept, well, they’re getting a couple of nice bullet holes on their heads. Simple as that.”, he replied.
