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Detective Teresa S. Themis
spaaaaaceGood Cop / Bad Attitude

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(ooc: Sorry for the weird letters. Guess where Teresa's family is from? Hugs & cookies to the winner!)

“Nu! Σκάσε (Skasay) and listen He-”
“Hector shut up a minute!”
“What? No. I need you t’give Ma her medicine.”
“Yeah what’d you think this was about?”
“Uh-uh don’t you nothing-”
“Do I need to call the school again?”
“You can’t let them get to you like that. They’re sucking you down into the s**t with ‘em”
“NO! Absolutely not!”
“I don’t give a f* what Dad did! Dad got himself killed and he was a prof-”
“Σκάσε (Skasay)! Dad was a professionally trained soldier! You’re just a kid, Hector!”
“No! No Kung-fu! No Jiu-Jutsu! No Tai-chi! No Capoeira! NO!”
“Hector! I don’t got time for this right now.”
“Hector I gotta go! We’ll talk later. Give Ma two blue pills and cut one of the white oval ones in half an-”
“Hector! Listen please! Crush the white pill into some applesauce for her. There’s a pizza in the freezer-”
“Yeah we’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow… I promise”
“We’ll talk…”
“Yeah- I gotta go Hec.”
“I love you.”

She found herself saying that a lot lately, “We’ll talk later” and “I don’t got time right now”. Every time she said it, it killed her a little bit more. When would she have the time? Hector was in high school now and for the life of her she couldn’t remember him graduating from elementary school. She couldn’t beat herself up about it though. She wasn’t his mom. They had a mom… at least for a while… Teresa ran a hand through her hair absently and finally answered the call on the radio.

“Car 224 Over” Apparently they were calling some cars back to the station; something about suspicious activity and the potential need for backup. “Copy that. Out” They didn’t sound too worried and her car wasn’t on mandatory callback so she decided to just continue on with her rounds. If they needed her they’d call. It was probably just some kids anyways. With that basket case vigilante and all of his protégé’s running around the streets at night no one took the GCPD seriously anymore. Obviously they were incompetent if they had to rely on help from some guy and his kids all dressed up like various flying animals. “Tch…” What was worse the guy was always overriding what little authority they had left and he public was watching. If some guy in a mask could do the police’s job for them, why did they need the police? Why bother with the donations so that the families of dead cops could have a proper funeral? Why apply to the police academy? Why even call them when you needed help or had information about a suspect? Why not just take up a mask yourself and go out and enact your own justice? Why not paint your face and give yourself a name? Kiss your little girl goodnight and then wander the streets of Gotham all night, looking for a fight? Find a burglary in process and decide to kick down the door and scare them off? Get yourself shot because you’re trying to be a hero, saving someone else’s kid?

Rounding a corner gave the dark-haired officer a full view of the night sky. Emblazoned upon the clouds was a shape, a symbol that hatred had cut into her own heart. Someone had switched on the bat signal… No… someone had altered the bat signal… The immediate anger that had flared up in her slowly subsided and was replaced with confusion. “The f*?” she mumbled now leaning over the steering wheel so that she could see the sky overhead more clearly. Which was a mistake… She ended up rolling into a crosswalk and the next thing she knew there was a body thumping up against her windshield. “Sh*!” She hit the brakes but the man simply slid off the hood and landed on the ground fairly hard. “Hey! Y’alright?” Teresa jumped out of the car, hurrying around to the front. She was met with a wide-eyed man with a bundle under one arm, pointing a semi-automatic at her. “Sh*!” That click was all it took. Teresa was on the ground tumbling for the safety of the other side of the cruiser. Her sidearm was out in the split second that her tumble ended. “PUT THE WEAPON DOWN!” She hollered, both hands over the hood of her car, aiming the weapon at the space above where the man was laying. She was met with an arm and more shots fired wildly and without aim. She ducked back down a little as another bullet whizzed past her ear. The sound of a window shattering told her it was time to end this before anyone was hurt. She sucked in a breath, planning her next maneuver. Aside from the heavy rain spattering the ground, the street was dead quiet. She waited for a sound… that sound, that one sound. And there it was. A soft scrape that told her the man’s boot was positioning itself where it would support his full weight. She rolled along the fender, coming to a stop out in the open, in full view of the shooter. She was met with his fearful gaze once more as he clutched the bundle to his chest. Before she could warn him again his arm swung up and around, cutting the raindrops with the gun, and aimed at Teresa. Five shots were fired. Two bodies hit the ground and their blood pooled beneath them. Radio static was met with the low hum of the car engine resounding off the skyscrapers. The blood ran with the rain water, off into the night.

{.:.} Where: Five mile radius of the GCPD {.:.} With: Some guy with a gun {.:.} Feeling: Dazed {.:.} TLDR: Talking on the phone with Hector, Hit some guy with car, Got shot {.:.}

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**Edited 10/4
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                xxxxxWhat was taking him so long?

                xxxxxIt felt like she'd been waiting forever for him to show up, and quite frankly, her butt was getting sore from sitting on that stupid Batsignal. Maybe she hadn't driven her point home, made it clear enough that she was trying to get his attention... how much more obvious could she make it? Her blue-green eyes wandered over to the abandoned nightstick. There was that.

                xxxxxMaybe painting the Batsignal wasn't going enough. She hopped down, walking to the nightstick and picking it up. She walked back to the signal and began beating on it, repeatedly, until she finally started cracking the grate. In the sky, the bat started to split, more light shining through, until she broke through the grate and started to crack the bulb, causing it to flicker. Then, finally, she smashed it and the signal went out completely. She kicked the grate off, watching the big metal bat, dented and cracked, hit the roof, all the while reciting another poem.

                "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat.
                How I wonder what you're at
                Up above the world you fly
                Like a tea tray in the sky..."
Lienmier's avatar

Friendly Gawker

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User Image The drive to the GCPD headquarters felt long. With the icy rain relentlessly beating against his skin and the roar of the bikes flooding his ears the entire ride, his previous tension and mood had been washed away, each drop of rain eroding the wall he had built around himself. By the time Babs and he arrived at their destination, it was safe to say that the ride was…refreshing.


Parking his bike besides Bab’s, Tim glanced at Babs, finally giving eye-contact with someone since the scene at the Batcave. He was glad that it had been Babs who had accompanied him. She was like a big sister to him, a mature role-model that he could depend on. Even with the silence, he felt at ease; she respected that he needed some space to himself and didn’t try to force herself onto him.

In the distance, the red Batsignal slowly waved in the sky, ominously beckoning the vigilantes towards the rooftop. Hoping to qualm some of Bab’s concern, Tim gave her a curt nod, letting her know that he was focused on the current mission. But knowing Babs, his weak offer wouldn’t cease her worry. Right now, someone was vandalizing GCPD property—No, her father’s work—right under all their noses. It was downright deliberate, if not provocative. Had he not known that it was Sofia Hayes waiting for them on the rooftop, he would have been pissed, instead of wary.

That was, until the signal began to flicker erratically until it completely disappeared. Pulling out his grapnel hook, he finally said, determined, “…Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

With a single pull of the trigger, he was lifted to the top of the GCPD building, his boots softly behind Sofia. It was clumsy of him. Had there been no rain, Sofia would have heard his arrival.

But as soon as he processed what was going on, his eyes widened and hands clenched.

“Sofia Hayes.” Knowing that Babs would be nearby, he moved towards Sofia, keeping his distance. He got a clear message from the pulverized Batsignal. Sofia was dangerous and out of control. “...Obviously, you caught my attention. But why this?”

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{Location: Rooftop of GCPD headquarters} {Currently with: Sofia Hayes and Barbara Gordon} { Mood: Cautious}

(ooc: Sorry, totally rushed this.... )

      Jason Todd

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      Location - Five mile radius of the GCPD / Back of the GCPD Accompanied by - Teresa

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                        Not a single disturbance during his venture to the Gotham City Police Department. Jason was almost sadden by this. Despite the clear violation of entering the batcave it appeared as if Bruce and his band of winged creatures were unable to locate him. The ex-Robin knew that his costume would have some kind of tracer on it so he made sure to plant it on some stray cat. This would undoubtedly keep him occupied for least a day before the big bad bat caught on that he was no longer keep tabs on him. Regardless Jason once again found himself one step ahead of Bruce.

                        The sound of gunfire caught his attention momentarily as Jason cocked his head towards the sound. Just another night in which someone was causing mischief. Not that Jason could really complain. Yes petty crimes were occurring and there wasn't anything he could really do. The way it worked in Gotham was as such: Take out the larger crime lords and the rest fall over like domino. Without a leader the rest are just scared little kids. Because of this Jason knew that the best way to bring order to Gotham was to eliminate all the known threats. Unfortunately for him the batfamily would not allow killing so they continuously hounded him and got in his way. Just once he'd like to get away with murder. Curious now, Jason proceeded towards the gun fire.

                        'Well what do we have here?'

                        A grin formed upon the male's lips as he stared down at two individuals both injured. Jason could tell one wasn't a normal pedestrian by the clothing, most likely someone important. Upon further inspection he came to realize that they were in fact a cop. Since neither party appeared to be in the condition to move Jason was free to interrupt. Repelling from the building Jason landed near the officer. "Ah, Gotham's finest hard at work." As his words left his lips Jason actually took a moment to observe what had went down. Judging from the angle of the cop's body she had been in a shootout. Trailing his eyes in the direction her body faced he examined the seemingly lifeless body. She must be a good shot as the other person did not move. Jason noticed the blood pooling from both the dead and the cop. Guess she wasn't fast enough to avoid being shot. Eying the woman Jason couldn't help but brainstorm an even better idea than the one he had before. Even now the grin on his face grew though no one could see behind that mask of his.

                        "You know, today is your lucky day. I just so happen to be on my way to the GCPD and you don't look so hot." Stepping closer to the female Jason stood over her. Kicking the nearby gun away from both of them Jason continued. "How about we take a trip?" Kneeling down Jason reached towards her arm. Without a second thought Jason lifted the cop upwards by her waist. Jason's gloves could feel the crimson liquid as he moved her towards the car. Placing her against the passenger side he shook his head. "Where's a hero when you need one right?" The bleeding would continue if pressure was not placed on it. Being the resourceful man he was Jason tore a piece of her sleeve of, ripping it into two before wrapping up both bullet wounds. Examining the car he noticed that it was still open. Lucky him, now he could drive into the GCPD without getting into any trouble. Using this cop as a meat shield too. Leaving her for a moment he went to open the car door from the driver's side then unlocked the passenger's side. Jason assisted in helping her into the front passenger's side before roaming to the dead man.

                        Kicking the man to turn him over he noticed that there was a package of drugs in his arms. Well obviously he wouldn't be needing them anymore. Jason took the opportunity to procure them but not for his own benefit. If he was to truly play the 'good guy' role he needed to show it. Returning to the car, making sure both doors were shut Jason forcefully pushed the package into her arms. "Here's your da- evidence. Make sure when you do your job, you do it well. Can't always hold out for us vigilantes." Sure Jason just used 'us' but again it was all apart of the act. Turning the key Jason started the engine. Just like that they were off, making their way to the backside of the station within a few minutes.

                        OOC: Little long. I'll fix any errors when I get the chance.

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Ra's Al Ghul

Ra's stepped out into an alleyway, the entrance to his lair slowly closing behind him, the stone scraping against the surfaces around it. He felt the cold air brush against his skin, blowing his cape back slightly, and he was half tempted to walk out into the street. He saw the fallacy in such an action, to draw unwarranted attention prematurely like that. He glanced up and smiled as droplets of rain hit his face, the cool liquid running down it. He looked to one of the buildings he stood inbetween before he suddenly leaped at the wall, turning in the air as he leaped back off it, his feet hitting the adjacent wall. The impact shook up his body as he once again turned, coiling up his body and flipping forward in the air before he landed perfectly on the one knee on the rooftop. He stood once more, letting the cape fall back into place as he strolled to the other edge of the roof, standing in the middle to get a more panoramic view.

What he saw made him sick. Men and women with umbrellas scurrying around like ants, desperate to avoid the rain like the parasites that they were. The rain made soft noises against the armour on his shoulder as he continued to think about why he was carrying out this mission. He sometimes was puzzled by the actions of these people. The earth's watery embrace, the life-giving liquid gifted to humanity by the world that allowed it to thrive and grow, to grow food, to never grow thirsty...and they despised it. They complained about the rain, they hid from the rain, the rain was viewed as some kind of backdrop to evil or horrors. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of the clear, crisp air as he heard someone land behind him. They had done well, remembered their training. Ra's' hands joined behind his back as he turned around the assassin quickly drooped her head in a bow, her fist pressed against her chest, silent. She would not speak unless spoken to, lest she anger the great Ra's Al Ghul. Ra's smiled at her as he breathed out of his mouth quietly, admiring his visible breath disappearing into the sky.

"Are you aware of what you must do?" The assassin nodded. They had prepared this for weeks, the final batch of explosives was now being set, and the final rendezvous for the various groups was being arranged. Soon, it would begin. His new method of saving the world from the parasitic and self-righteous virus that inhabited it would begin with Gotham, and the Earth would return to the beauty she was once knew. "Once Ubu has finished, he is to return to his chamber." Ra's turned away from the assassin and looked out again, smirking at his vision. Ubu deserved his rest, he would need it for tommorow night and the many that would follow, he like so many others would finally realise the cause they had fought so hard for. The assassin disappeared into the night as Ra's closed his eyes, taking another deep breath, only wishing the earth could be as pure as the uncorrupted air it once held. He would never let her be tainted again.
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                xxxxxSofia heard someone say her name and she turned around. Finally. He showed up. She placed her free hand on her hip, the other one still gripping the night stick. Her glare slowly softened, her lips curling into a grin and her eyes brightening. She'd been waiting for this... and she finally knew what she wanted to do. It had taken her up until now to figure it out. Truthfully, she had considered buying a gun and just shooting him... but there were gun laws, as the proprietor of the gun store had explained. A waiting period. She needed a license. And guns had serial numbers for tracking purposes... it just seemed like a bad idea, as easy as it would be.

                xxxxxAnd in retrospect, not as satisfying. She had suffered for four days and then a week more, granting him a quick demise simply seemed unfair. Even killing him didn't seem right, the more she thought about it. After all, she had lost her identity because of him and the Mad Hatter... he should lose his, too.

                xxxxxShe reached up, pushing her wet hair out of her face, staining the flaxen locks with faint red, the remaining paint that was still being washed off by the rain. She was drenched, her clothes were sticking to her skin, but she didn't seem fazed by it. "I was starting to think you weren't going to show up. I was about to do something stupid," she laughed, shaking her head.

                xxxxx"Why...?" she took a few steps towards him. "Because I want you off the streets. You don't know what you're doing. Do you have any idea what I went through?" she looked away, cringing, her arm holding her other elbow as she thought about it... young. Blond. Pretty. The Mad Hatter had been five minutes from handing her over to a geriatric skin head as a bought-and-paid-for Aryan bride because she was just another failed Alice. Like the others. She couldn't be Sofia anymore because that had been taken away and now Sofia was just the name at the bottom of a list of the Mad Hatter's victims. Her nails bit into her skin as a lump rose in her throat. She couldn't talk about it, about how utterly helpless she felt those four days and how badly she wanted to fight but couldn't. The waking nightmares she had while under observation, the breakdown, trying to rebuild but finding that no one knew who Sofia was, it was just, 'Oh, that girl who got kidnapped by the Mad Hatter?' as if she'd never had a name or her own identity. Like she'd never been rescued at all. It was so easy to become Alice, everyone knew her that way anyway, and if she couldn't have Sofia, then the Mad Hatter couldn't have Alice. And whoever this guy was, he couldn't have Red Robin.

                xxxxx"Take off the mask. Burn the suit. Or I'll make sure Red Robin never flies again," she warned him, teal eyes returning to the glare.
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Vic Sage

The rain pattered down slightly as quiet footsteps echoed among them. A figure moved through an alleyway, seeming brooding and dark up until you were within earshot. He was whistling a rather merry tune despite the rather gloomy weather and city he was in. The figure swivelled left and gloved hands grabbed onto the sides of a ladder, feet moving up the rungs in rhythm with the tune. The singing voice that came after was talented, plenty of potential but untrained. The deepness of the voice definitely confirmed it was a male, although the song's artist was a woman. As far as he could remember, anyway. "An' when you hear yoohooo....you'll know I'm waitin' on you, cos we got some lovin' to do...under the moon." The voice had a jazzy rhythm to it but eventually stopped as the formal shoes clacked onto the rooftop. The faceless expression was masqueraded behind a curtain of raindrops that dripped from the rim of his hat, giving him a bizarre and slightly threatening appearance. Q went back to whistling since he forgot most of the other words, he'd recollect them later. Maybe he had it written down somewhere? He should look into that. Right now, though, he needed to search out Mr. Bat. He'd heard Gotham wasn't exactly in its Golden Age, even with how it usually was.

Hell, it was usually a complete dump. Joker, Two-Face, Penguin, Victor Zsasz, Killer Croc, Catwoman (Ally or detriment was arguable, she aided in lots of ways, even kept the economy in check if you looked at it some way.) The Al Ghuls (Sounded like a sitcom. He wondered how that would do? Ra's could do with more funding, he'd look into it.) Scarecrow, The Red Hood, Mr Fr- He suddenly stopped and stepped back regaining his balance, realising he'd almost walked right off the side. He looked down and noticed it was connected to another rooftop, so he gently dropped down and kept walking, his hands in his pockets. Where was he? Oh yeah. Complete dump usually, but even then, this city was in a rut. He'd heard about what happened not so long ago, he had to do a report on it, it was that big. He remembered the headline now. Breaking news! Red Robin, Spoiler and Batgirl (which was wrong, Batgirl was the redhead) fail to stop Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn! Citizens demand investigation into police activity! Then it lead into him having to talk to some stuck up nimrod who complained about how the police in Gotham relied on vigilantes and how Batman should be shot on sight. He groaned at the memory of it.

If that didn't drive the point home, nothing would. He went across three other rooftops and dropped down off the side of a low one, landing on top of a dumpster and quietly stepping off, beginning to stroll down the street. He remembered the police station was just a few blocks from here. What was that smell? He sniffed it again. The faint smell of...blood? He turned the corner to see some poor sod lying in the street in a pool of his blood, another blood spatter lying near him. Q stood there awkwardly for a couple of seconds and looked to his right then his left before seeming to casually stroll over to the corpse. He knelt down beside him and felt his neck for a pulse. Nothing, he was already cold to the touch but that was probably aided by the rain. He looked to the blood spatter and took out a torch from his pocket, clicking it on and shining it onto the crimson pool. His torch followed it as the blood went into the street, and then...around, then stopped. He noticed slight tire marks on the road, not like someone was in a mad rush, but a pretty fast start. Either trying to get away and look subtle or just uncaring of the rules of the road. It was either whoever was bleeding or perhaps a second victim. Body being disposed of? That was unlikely, this one was just left. Probably alive, but unless he was wrong about the rules of the road...they got in the passenger side. Why would they go around like that if they were bleeding? He scanned the area some more, clicking the torch off as he looked down. He put it away, crouching down and carefully examining the gun in his hand. Standard sidearm for GCPD, so maybe....he glanced back at the blood spatter. Did someone take them? Now that was The Question.
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Dapper Genius


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By the time Stephanie had stopped rampaging across Gotham, Damian had followed her and Cassandra to an all but abandoned gym on the edge of town. Much of the old equipment still remained, and a quick look around told Damian that someone still used the place on a continual basis. Punching bags and weights rested against the walls, a balance beam standing not far from the center. Damian frowned at the display. Surely Stephanie didn’t train here, of all places…?

A defenseless punching bag swung erratically under a barrage of punches delivered by a certain angry, blonde vigilante. Each punch was powerful, but reckless. Wild energy. Stephanie had stripped herself of her Spoiler attire, now sporting a pair of shorts and a sports bra. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, lips pressed in a thin line. Clearly, the woman was past caring about patrol.

Cassandra watched her best friend from off to the side, arms folded and resigned. When Damian entered the room, she gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before turning her concerned gaze back on Stephanie. The woman’s dedication to her friend was admirable, he supposed. Few would turn their backs to the Batman, let alone defy his orders just to appease a trivial desire. To Damian, it was just further confirmation that Cassandra Cain was a force to be reckoned with. If she wanted to help a friend, she would damn well go to help a friend.

Stephanie’s steady pace was increasing with each swing. At the rate she was going, Damian wouldn’t have been surprised if she was picturing Father in place of the punching bag. Father’s words earlier that night must have really struck her deep. All in one breath, Stephanie had been accused of constantly letting her emotions get the better of her, focusing more on Drake than her job, and not having the maturity to fight alongside everyone else. She felt undervalued. Underestimated. Underappreciated. Despite consistently proving herself, just one failure rendered her an outsider. She craved the acceptance that everyone else had already garnered.

Perhaps more than anyone else, Damian understood.

“Sparring with a sack of cloth won’t solve your problems, fat girl,” he called, walking toward her. “If you truly want to increase your stamina and skill, spar with something that will fight back.”

He removed his hooded cape, then unstrapped his utility belt.

“I should act as…a suitable substitute. Besides, you clearly need the practice.”
Lienmier's avatar

Friendly Gawker

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User Image "Why...?"

Tim watched faint red droplets trail down her arm, to the nightstick in her hand. It took all his will not to step back as Sofia inched towards him, as he stood his ground, listening.

"Because I want you off the streets. You don't know what you're doing. Do you have any idea what I went through?"

Immediately, Tim lowered his eyelids as he watched the pink puddle spread at her feet. The edges of his lips were taut, his mouth pulled into a thin frown.

He knew what happened to Sofia Hayes, what she had to endure for four whole days. In fact, he documented an extended report on the incident, filing the report deep within several encrypted files. That is to say, Tim knew the Mad Hatter’s MO, his obsession with Alice, the kidnapping, the manipulation, and the mind-control—but he didn’t know the pain or the suffering that Sofia had been through. How the entire experience had haunted her to her very core.

There was nothing he could offer her that could appease her, besides his sincere condolences, as pathetic as it was. So, he waited for her to continue, slightly shivering from the rain soaking through his costume.

"Take off the mask. Burn the suit. Or I'll make sure Red Robin never flies again.” His eyes widened as she glared at him, as if she saw straight through his costume. His mouth slightly open, he barely breathed for second, pausing to think of an appropriate response.

The situation was…difficult. It was clear that this meeting was personal, as oppose to some simple lure-and-snare ploy by the Mad Hatter. With so many words not said aloud, Tim could only wonder why Sofia was showing resentment towards him. It didn’t make sense. But then again, logic was never mankind’s sole drive. Maybe, just maybe this was how she was trying to cope.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help earlier…but before I do anything…” Finally, he unclenched his fist, leaving his gloved palms open by his side. “I just need to know: how will this solve anything?”

Stalling. He was stalling for now—but for what?

“…Sofia, I won’t be able to completely understand how you’ve felt this entire time—you know that. But, if you need someone to talk to… I’m all ears. Help me understand what you’ve been going through. You don’t need to deal with this alone.”

To seem less hostile, he calmly shifted a few steps towards the right, so that he wasn’t facing straight towards Sofia. It was a method that Tim mimicked from hanging around d**k over the years. Though it was more a habit for the older man—moving about (and even walking on furniture) during a heated discussion—for Tim, it was a means to lighten his presence, to make him appear less belligerent. The last thing he wanted to do was to have Sofia act out on her last threat. Occasionally eying the nightstick in her hand, he waited for her reaction.

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{Location: GCPD Rooftop} {Currently with: Sofia Hayes (and Babs!)} { Mood: Cautious}

(OOC: ...This was a little tough to write....)

Stephanie Brown & Black Bat


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Steph had hardly been aware of Damian's presence when he entered the abandoned gym. With each swing of her arms, she imagined hitting Bruce. Granted, each time she hadn't imagined him bruised or bloody. That just wasn't in her nature, but hitting him... she doubted she was beyond that anymore.

Stopping mid punch, she turned her gaze to Damian. What was his obsession with calling her fat girl? Did she look overweight or something? Hardly. She was well aware of her body type and, despite her love of waffles, was in good shape. 'Wait... did he just ask to spar with me? Who is he and what has he done with Damian? You know... the actual Damian.' Shaking her head, she cleared her throat, realizing how dry it was.
"Hey, you do realize I'm not a ninja brat like you, right?"
Like she could hold her own against Damian. She was well aware of what the League of Assassins could do, though only because of written reports. She was content with not having to face them herself.

Cass stepped forward now, clearing her throat to speak.
"Steph, it would do you some good. Sparring with Damian is a far better way to deal with your frustration than to take it out on an inanimate object."
She turned her attention to Damian. Talia's training was no mystery to her, so she definitely needed to set some ground rules.
"Damian, no fatal blows. I'm aware you know that, but I want to reinforce it."
Her arms were still across her chest.

Cass, smiled at him reassuringly, though briefly. She knew his capabilities, knew he could hold back and didn't deny that he had proved that. Knowing how these two responded to each other... Well, no sense in dwelling on it.

Steph frowned for a moment, thinking over Cass' suggestion. 'I guess it can't hurt... He is just trying to help I think.'
"Alright Damian. Take off the cape, though. Wouldn't want an unfair advantage."
The blond could clearly remember swinging Damian around by his ankles. 'Wonder if I can do that again.' Getting in stance, she waited for Damian to remove the yellow cape.

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Location: Abandoned Gym Speaking with: Damian Wayne and each other Mood: Still frustrated, but getting better

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                xxxxxSofia laughed, but it was bitter and biting. He wanted to HELP. Like he hadn't done enough last time. Some big help he was, right? Locked her tormentor up in the same place as people who actually needed help... why did the attacker get the same treatment as the victim? But it only made her angry, his phony attempt to seem like he cared. She knew he didn't. She could see it, the way his eye was drawn to the weapon in her hand. Thinking of how to take her down if she came at him. When she did. He was stalling, avoiding her ultimatum, trying to keep her talking. Because he thought it would HELP.

                xxxxxWhat was that saying? "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions"?

                xxxxxGo to hell, Red Robin.

                xxxxxShe began tossing the night stick up, letting it flip over once and land squarely back in her palm. "Alone? You don't know what alone is. Have you ever sat in a room with one of the people you keep tossing back into Arkham, listened to them talk for more than five minutes? Trying to reason with a madman, now that makes you feel alone." She'd done it for four days, as much as she could force herself awake. She followed his steps to the side, maintaining eye contact, stalking him, a firm statement that she was not the victim, not the prey anymore.

                xxxxx"Have you ever talked to one of the victims before? When you go back to your lair, do you talk about who you defeated or who you saved?" she continued. "Did you say, "I put the Mad Hatter back in Arkham" or "I rescued Sofia Hayes"?" The night stick kept falling into her hand as she waited for his answer; thump, thump, thump...
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The Terminator

Slade stepped on the chest of one of the assassins as he reached down to a small note wrapped firmly in a small piece of note in their belt. He unwrapped it and read it carefully, his eye scanning it over. It was orders, nothing to do with him, just to stay in this area and wait for a signal tomorrow night. Well, apparently there was a party tomorrow and he wasn't invited. Not that it made a big difference to him, he was never really a party person...you could probably tell that by the scene around him. Around 14 assassins lay dead in the room he was in, another laying in the street outside, the rain gently pattering against her unmoving body. There was a large hole in the window where she'd tried to jump out and escape, before a bullet had gone right through the back of her head. Her own fault really, if she hadn't attacked in the first place then she wouldn't have been caught up in this mess, would she? He tossed the note away, uncaring. He was only here for one thing, and one thing only. Payback, revenge, whatever you liked to call it, he wanted it and he was going to get it.

He casually began to walk out of the warehouse, adorned in his well known armoured suit, decked out with weapons. A large assault rifle and his power staff donned his back, while a Promethium sword rested in a scabbard on his side and a handgun lay in a holster on the right of his waist. He had some more knives on his belt and smoke bombs in pouches on the belt, and in one very large pouch he had his ultimate secret weapon. A million dollar flash bomb. Enough to incapacitate the entire Justice League if it was needed, only long enough for him to escape, but that was all he would need if he ever got caught in that situation. It's not like his sword was made of Kryptonite, he could handle the rest of them. One time, he had. All of them at once, actually.

It wasn't like any of them mattered right now. He walked out into the rain and ran up a wall, flipping forward in the air to land flawlessly on a roof before he leaped across to another, then turned and jumped onto a ladder on the side of a building, the constant noise of rain filling his ears. When he reached the rooftop, he reached into one of the pouches and pulled it out. A small round communicator with a symbol on it that he knew so well. The giant T stared back at him as a tracer, carved out of the same symbol lay in the pouch waiting for him to activate it. He considered it an ironic form of justice, using the very thing he'd used against him once to enact his revenge. He'd taken so much, uncaring of the consequences, caught up in his own self-righteous crusade against criminality. Slade's face stiffened and his eye narrowed, his brow furrowing. Just you wait, bird boy. He was going to enjoy this.
Sundays_dusk's avatar

Dapper Genius


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Damian nodded his head in acquiescence, rolling his eyes. He could function exceptionally with or without his cape, anyway.

As soon as he entered the arena, both he and Stephanie assumed a stance. The position he took was defensive, but Stephanie took on an offensive stance almost immediately. Damian scrutinized the way she positioned herself; searching out future mistakes in her body language. His skill at interpreting the human body may not have been as honed as, say, Cassandra, but he was usually able enough to predict the future outcome of a battle. Stephanie’s body shined of her earlier work-out, a drop rolling down her neck and disappearing into her collar bone. Not fatigued, but slightly tired enough that she might lose her edge.

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the first thing Damian should have noticed.

Stephanie lunged with a dash, feinting toward Damian’s left side before bouncing back to his right. He dodged with ease and jumped over her, using her shoulder for support. A small opening for 1.7 seconds. Letting go, he ducked when she spun to kick his face in, then rolled to the left when she brought her leg down to strike his back. He propelled himself onto his feet, jabbing a finger into her side with a grin. Stephanie visibly grit her teeth, waves of frustration rolling off her.

As they continued on like this, the number of vulnerabilities she left open lessened, and her rhythm improved considerably. Stephanie was a fast learner. He didn’t need to explain to her what she did wrong, and she adjusted to his movements accordingly. When Damian first suggested that Stephanie spar with him, he couldn’t believe the words had left his mouth. Holding back didn’t come naturally to him. Most of his techniques focused on inflicting pain, after all, and Stephanie was nowhere near his level. But as the “fight” between them persisted, the rage that had spawned within him earlier that night ebbed away until something like contentment took its place.

Stephanie’s utter aggravation also seemed to be evaporating. Her expression cleared, and her focus recovered along with it. Damian couldn’t help but notice every little movement she made. While a very critical skill on the battlefield, his hyper observations sometimes made matters a bit too... distracting. Stephanie just appeared so healthy. Many American modern women coveted the bone-thin appearance that was very rarely achieved, yet scattered all over magazines and television. Even Father would have these tooth-pick specimens hanging on his arms at public functions. Tt. These women looked more like men than their biological selves. But Stephanie looked more like, well, a woman.

Tied up in these thoughts, Damian hesitated longer than was necessary.
Lienmier's avatar

Friendly Gawker

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User Image Tim nearly flinched as the nightstick was thrown into the air, landing onto her palm with a loud slap, his body turning rigid with alarm. As she spoke, juggling the nightstick with her single hand, his heart beat synchronizing the each time the nightstick returned to her hand.

Alone: a word so simple, yet so heavy. He… knew what it meant. He had his own personal struggles with it, maybe even had grown accustomed to it. …But what Sofia was trying to describe—that was helplessness. He knew how it could transform someone. When everyone kept disappearing from his life: Mom, Dad, Dana, Steph, Bart, Kon, Bruce… Life became challenging. He lost track of what really mattered, of how to actually…live. He tried coping or at least satisfying this insatiable sense of guilt and loneliness. In retrospect, he must have been a little crazy—hell, he tried to clone his best friend, even stealing tech from Lex Luthor to do so, or ran around the world, trying to prove that Bruce was lost in time. It was only because his rewarded efforts and the strange occurrences of the universe, that he had begun to recover from all of his losses. Plus, he also had people to talk to when he was down, like d**k.

But for Sofia, the experience was still recent. No matter how hard she wanted to return to her previous life, the pain would constantly pull her back to those four days. In her mind, she was stilling trapped in that small room, forced to act out anything of Hatter’s whims. It was understandable. Deep wounds took time to heal. That, he understood.

But for now, he was the link between her and the Hatter---which must be one of the main reasons why she had wanted Red Robin to disappear.

Tim honestly wanted to help her. In fact, he couldn’t stand there do nothing. He need to try. However, it would take more than his words and actions to help her finally move on. She needed to help herself first, before she could take the first step. The best he could do was to push her into the right direction—that is, if he was able to.

For a brief moment, the rain began to pour harder, the sound of rain drumming in his ear with increasing crescendo. Noting that his previous actions had fueled her aggression, he stood in place, crossing his arms, as he spoke, “I can’t…disclose certain information to you, but believe me, what I do and how it affects you and many others--it’s not simple as ‘saving’ or ‘arresting’ someone. It never has been. And certainly, you’re not just another ‘victim’” Damn. It was moments like these that he wished he was as charismatic and easy-going as d**k. He’d most likely handle this situation better, and Bruce—most people were too frightened of him to even confront him. What did that say about Red Robin? Was he just another Dr. Mid-Nite rip-off—a random costume? “You’re not a demographic, Sophia. And if that wasn’t the case, you and I wouldn’t be here. I knew you…. You were great in the ring.”

He paused. Speaking to her like this, Red Robin was crossing too many lines. It wasn’t professional, and it wasn’t something that costumes usually did. Plus, he never had a confrontation like this before. Not like this. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit it.

hose last words were hesitant: “…And you still can be.” If you're willing to try, he didn't add.

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{Location: GCPD Rooftop} {Currently with: Sofia Hayes (and the ever so vigilant Babs!)} { Mood: Conflicted}

[OOC: I tried.]
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                xxxxxCan't disclose certain information... she wasn't looking for names, just a yes or no. And he refused to give it, even appealing to her passion for her former job. He was grasping at straws. Not that it mattered, no matter what he said, he wasn't changing her mind. She was focused now... and sick of listening to him. He wasn't getting it at all, he was just digging his own grave.

                xxxxx"Wrong answer," she said, her grin going feral. She tossed the nightstick up higher, and as it came down, she vaulted on her hands, her foot connecting to the collapsible piece of metal and sending it flying at Red Robin with a cartwheel kick. Hoping he would focus on deflecting it, she landed on her feet and used her momentum to handspring forward and then going onto her hands and spinning her body, attempting to get one leg onto his shoulder and slam him into the ground. She wasn't a huge fan of using weapons to fight, having been trained without them. She wasn't the world's smartest girl, but she knew that Red Robin was well-trained with weapons, which meant her best bet was to stick with her strong suit. Then again, if there was a chair or table handy... she'd gladly go to town with that.

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