steer the stars

Grey's Calamity

"N- no please! That’s…my grandson…" Dr Chen-McDougal says from outside the nursery, seeing the baby clutched in Black Mask’s gloved hands. To his credit, the Black Mask ignores her. It would’ve been worse if he decided to acknowledge her - but the anticipation of Killer Croc’s arrival and his triumph of harvesting these children for his own needs surpasses his urge to maim and torture the doctor further.

As the two goons make their way to the stairwell she’d just come from, Batgirl slips out from behind the door and strikes the one with his hands free over the head harshly with the butt of her bo staff. He hits the ground before he knows what hits him (literally). His partner turns to face her with a confused, “Mason?!” Batgirl makes to roundhouse kick him squarely in the chest to end the scuffle quietly, but he tosses the backpack stuffed heavily with stolen meds at her, knocking her off balance. He lands a clean punch to her jaw, rattling her teeth and splitting her bottom lip. She’s taken hits way worse, and it shouldn’t muddle her balance like it does, even momentarily, but she’ll chalk that up to meds in her system.

He makes to reach for the walkie talkie on his belt, and that sobers her instantly. Propelling herself forward, she jabs her elbow like a dagger into his solar plexus and he gags violently. Batgirl straightens and takes advantage, securing the goon in a choke hold. To his credit, he struggles pretty hard, succeeds in making her groan lowly when he slams them against a wall to try and shake her off, but to no avail. It takes a long minute, his panic working against his respiratory system and in her favor as he blacks out, slumping to the ground. “Shit,” she mutters, spitting out the metallic taste in her mouth.

#theblondebat #cassashadow #plot: nemo saltat sobrius #and a bit of #plot: tea party

"That's quite the welcome....Batgirl," Black Mask says, getting over his initial panic at the sound of his men being summarily discharged outside of the nursery. When the girl pukes, he knows - he knows! - he has the upper hand. There's some sort of twisted affection in his bulging unblinking eyes, coupled with a fiery sort of triumph.

Black Mask puts the baby back into a crib, more intrigued by the panting Batgirl before him. He could have used her real name in front of everyone, but he chose not to. He made that choice to make it clear to Stephanie Brown that he definitely had that power to use, should he want to. He might not be Roman Sionis any longer, but there is something about the intense, infallible persona of Black Mask that, even now as Jeremiah Arkham, he can still remember what he did to this young woman.

And it thrills him almost as much as it angers Jeremiah. To torture the girl for no scientific purpose other than pain? That went against all of Dr Arkham's logic. Roman Sionis was a sadist, but Jeremiah Arkham was an objectivist. And as Black Mask, he paired power with his scientific thoughts.

"I do need a nurse to help me with my experiments," Black Mask muses aloud, as he surveys Stephanie. He is, indeed, considering taking Steph along. "Come with me, and I promise I won't revisit the past on you. We'll forge a new future together, Batgirl. Once Killer Croc arrives with our way out, then either you die or you come with me. I promise I won't hurt you...again. Your choice."

Steph doesn't get an opportunity to talk because that is the very moment Croc barrels over towards the nursery, making all the babies start to wail even louder.

"There's two of 'em!" Croc suddenly bellows, making his entrance known to everyone in the ward. "Purple here ain't the only Batspawn around. They're playin' us for fools!! There's another one skulkin' 'round here somewhere--" He looks around as best as he can, his sense of smell and his whiplike tail compensating for his poor eyesight.

"WHAT?" hisses Black Mask. He rushes to look outside the window, just a glance, where he sees the bright array of GCPD authorities arranged outside. "Then enough wasting time. We'll take what we can and go. Croc - did you get what I asked for."

Croc nods and dumps the bag down, tearing the sack open with his claws. "S.T.A.R. Labs practically threw 'im at me," Croc says proudly. "I guess he wasn't worth much to begin with."

What lays within the sack can only be described as a monstrosity of human flesh and bionics. The meld looks more Frankensteinian than anything else, a mish-mash of skin and metal fused together to create some sort of mega-being. Once it's out of the bag, it struggles to stand to its full 8ft height, clearly disoriented and terrified.

"You wanna fight me, then you come over here an’ fight me. Then I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp and eat you," Croc calls out to the voice, whoever it might be. "I like my meat rare." He makes a slurping sound as he pulls his large bulk up into the crawlspace, living up to his reptilian name as he slithers through the small space and away from Cass.

"Guess, guess!" Cass taunts him loudly, letting her voice ricochet off the sewer walls. But it doesn’t do any good, Croc is climbing up and away from her, offering a fight inside the hospital instead of on his turf. It didn’t make sense. Cass is shocked. For how little she had planned this out, the one thing she thought she could count on was Croc’s sorely lacking impulse control.

With his heavy bag still in tow, Cass knows she will still have an easy time keeping up with him inside the hospital. He’s not usually too fast to begin with anyway, all muscle instead. With Croc out of sight, she hangs back briefly, patching into the Gotham-comm channel, “Black Bat, update. Killer Croc is currently inside West Mercy. Accompanied by…a package. Possibly human.” maybe someone else was inside too. Bruce, or Tim, or maybe Jason or Steph.

No, not Jason. He hadn’t been back in Gotham in months. Not Steph either. She was still hurt. Great.

Climbing up after Croc, Cass keeps a tight trail on him and his bundle, planning to follow him through the hospital till she found a relatively empty location to distract him in. Whatever he was bringing to Black Mask was necessary for their plan. She has to take him out, then work her way to Black Mask. If possible.

#cassashadow #theblondebat #plot: nemo saltat sobrius #combine plot powers activate

Croc wastes no time getting to the eighth floor. Or correction - he does waste some time, because he has trouble finding the eighth floor, and he roars in the faces of many cringing hospital staff to demand if he's reached the nursery yet. He doesn't understand Black Mask's plan, nor does he really care. Black Mask promised him many good things - power, control - and he also promised not to 'hurt' the babies. Croc took the evil-doer at his word, and asked no more, choosing instead to carry out his task.

He pays no mind to the shadowy tail behind him - if the little Batbrat isn't willing to come out and play, then he's not going to jump to the easy bait. Nope. Not this time. Not when there's so much at stake, including the mysterious bundle he's hauling up the stairwells.

The sight what greets him, when he finally arrives is one to truly behold. Civilians cringing and cowering, babies squalling loudly, a small cadre of goons unconscious on the floor. The smell of blood, and vomit.

Black Mask in the nursery proper, with his elite bodyguard stationed around him in a protective circle, all of their weapons trained on a - wait.

A second Babrat?

Croc sniffs the air. The one who'd been trailing behind him from the sewer definitely didn't smell like this one. Which meant--

"WHAT?" hisses Black Mask.

Grey's Calamity

npcblank:

Black Mask cocks his gun, and shoots the goon in the forehead. The large man drops to the ground like a sack of two-month old potatoes.

"You do that," he sneers.

Batgirl arrives three blocks over from the scene just shy of the closest police barricade currently swarming with news vans and curious bystanders. Morons. If Black Mask were smart, he would have his eye on at least one news channel to make sure nobody got a jump on him. Having the media eye trained and ready to track her progress on top of the SWAT team standing by on a hair-trigger to storm the building at the first go ahead, stealth is her only option. So the front and back doors are out. Unfortunately, there aren’t any convenient windows she could slip into either, since most hospital windows require some kind of key to open. Too many stories above Batgirl’s head lies the only reasonable access point: the roof. On a normal day, this would be routine, flinging herself across rooftops with a reckless abandon. But one does not simply enter a media hot spot in Bat ears without getting noticed, not without some tricks.

#theblondebat #plot: nemo saltat sobrius #omg I got all my hospital information from Grey's Anatomy #so your choice of title #SHE IZ PERFECT #AHHHH

The footsteps of the looting goons get closer and closer to Steph's room...a few more steps and they'd be in there - until a walkie-talkie hooked to one of the goon's belt suddenly statics into life and the pair quickly come to a stop.

"That's the bossman," one of them says quickly, his voice tinged with slight fear. Obviously their foray into stealing psychiatric drugs was probably not in Black Mask's grand plan. "He said Croc's back with the exit scrategy, we should book it."

"Yeah," the other one breathes thickly, sounding as if he hasn't brushed his teeth in weeks. "Let's use the stairwell, remember bossman don't like us in the elevators."

They turn away from the room Steph is in without going inside, stomping at a hurried pace in the opposite direction, towards the emergency exit stairwell.

Meanwhile, a couple floors below, with the knowledge that Croc is finally inside the hospital, Black Mask starts selecting babies for his scheme. He reads each chart, determining his choice. "This is like shopping!" he says, grinning ghoulishly at the goons who are picking up some of the babies, a couple babies cradled in the massive crooks of their arms. "I only want the best. Only the best for Arkham. That's what the Arkham legacy is about - the best. The best insane, the best criminals...the Joker."

The Black Mask pauses, his bulging eyes seeming wider than usual. He steeples his fingers. "The Joker was Arkham's pride and joy. I can never replicate him, but I can certainly surpass him....with this baby. Charles. Charles Chen-McDougal." He picks the baby up, holding it up in the air. "Yes, you shall grow up to become better than even the Joker. You are the one, my sweet creature."

"N- no please! That's...my grandson..." Dr Chen-McDougal says from outside the nursery, seeing the baby clutched in Black Mask's gloved hands. To his credit, the Black Mask ignores her. It would've been worse if he decided to acknowledge her - but the anticipation of Killer Croc's arrival and his triumph of harvesting these children for his own needs surpasses his urge to maim and torture the doctor further.

"You better work or Croc will just eat you," the villain resumes his complaining soliloquy. To the bundle’s credit, it moans - to Cass it sounds like a rather human, yet strangely robotic moan.

Being stealthy had it’s upsides, and normally that was noticing how everyone around you was actually not as quiet as they thought they were. However, with Killer Croc, there was no need for her stealth skills to pick out his path among the sewers. For now, she let Croc take the lead, hanging back a good ten to fifteen feet at all times, just far enough to keep him in her sights.

She’s curious as to what’s in the bundle, as it seems to be the reason he’s traveling at such a slow pace. An average human weight wouldn’t delay him this much, but the bundle seems to be a challenge for him.

She had been planning to hang back till they were closer to the hospital at least until he started monologuing. Although to his credit, it wasn’t to her, he wasn’t that cliché. “A real meal?” she calls to him with a wry grin, “Rats aren’t a snack, why not try a Bat?”

Cass braces herself, muscles tense and ready to fire when and if Croc turns. He had to pay attention to her taunt. She wants to use his weight, and his cargo as her weapon down here. Direct hits won’t work with him. Hopefully Croc’s bundle could hang in a little longer.

#plot: nemo saltat sobrius #plot: tea party #cassashadow #gdi Crco the ONE TIME you were supposed to be your usual predictable self

Croc freezes, sloshing amidst the muck as much as a large individual like Croc could stop suddenly. The bundle squirms but Croc roughly readjusts it to silence it as his tail whips around behind him. One of the only truly quick parts of the man-beast is that tail lashing side to side, guided by powerful muscles.

"Who said that? WHO SAID THAT?" He bellows, sending the rants screeching off to another direction. Croc has a dilemma. He's directly under West Mercy Hospital now. Five feet away and above him is the ripped-up surface that leads right into the bowels of the hospital, a crawlspace underneath the morgue. This was how Black Mask and his mooks got into the hospital in the first place. Croc is so close and he debates ignoring that tiny challenging, somewhat familiar voice he'd heard, or turning around to face and fight whatever Batfreak it might be.

For once, Croc makes a surprising decision: he chooses not to fight. Instead, the villain keeps marching towards the tear in the sewer ceiling. He flings his heavy baggage up there first, which lands with a heavy thud into the crawlspace under the hospital morgue.

"You wanna fight me, then you come over here an' fight me. Then I'll beat you to a bloody pulp and eat you," Croc calls out to the voice, whoever it might be. "I like my meat rare." He makes a slurping sound as he pulls his large bulk up into the crawlspace, living up to his reptilian name as he slithers through the small space and away from Cass.

The blood trail that Cass followed started here in this underground walkway, and, after backtracking, ends in an alleyway five blocks away. It disappears under a manhole into the sewers of the West Harlow district of Gotham City, just a few blocks away from West Mercy.

Cass is methodical in her work following her finding the blood smeared phone. It’s bagged and stored for possible evidence, or to at least put a face to a victim. When following the trail of blood back to the manhole, she scans about, looking for anymore items that had been lost along the way, but the phone seems to be the only item to note.

By the time she reaches the manhole, checks her location, and a final check of nearby radio frequencies, she doesn’t hesitate to dive down into the sewer.

It’s not the best plan, she’ll admit it, but by the way her heart races has her feeling it’s one of the best options she has. Ordinarily she would’ve preferred to wait; call in backup, or better yet a second opinion. But now is not the time, because there is not enough time. So she thinks. Not with the spotty reports coming in from the police on the scene. Her gut says this could be a possible connection to the hospital.

In an effort to cover her rush to action, she relays a message over the Gotham-comm channel. “Black Bat. In pursuit of Killer Croc in West Harlow sewers. Within range of West Mercy.” she takes a considerable pause, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness before moving further into the sewer. “Stand by?” Question mark. She breaks, and finally falls to hesitation. Gritting her teeth in annoyance with herself, Cass trudges further forward without any light.

#cassashadow #plot: nemo saltat sobrius #also a bit of #plot: tea party #because that's how we roll

Fortunately for Cass in one way, Killer Croc doesn't seem particularly interested in staying stealthy. Whatever he's got bundled up that he's carrying on his massive scaly shoulders is also weighing him down considerably, so Croc's movements are slow, laborious and loud. Extremely loud. It's interspersed by the sound of the villain pausing to hydrate himself (assumedly from the sewage water itself) and also afford himself some snacking opportunities on the occasional rat.

What Croc is, is single-minded. He knows exactly where he's going - the sewer system under Gotham, of course, being Croc's home and passageways for over a decade now. He is headed towards West Mercy.

"Hope the Mask likes this," he grumbles to himself, a voice that's growling and slavering as it echoes against the filth-laden walls. "Hope the Mask 'preciates this. Croc don't like going into hospitals. Croc wants to stay here. Croc wants a REAL MEAL." He yells that last part, and then there's the sound of gnashing teeth against wet flesh and bones.

"You better work or Croc will just eat you," the villain resumes his complaining soliloquy. To the bundle's credit, it moans - to Cass it sounds like a rather human, yet strangely robotic moan.

The first thing Crystal Brown does is call up her daughter. "I'm alright - I was just about to go on-shift when I saw the news, but I'm still at home," she says, her voice trembling slightly. "Stephanie, my god. I knew that doctor. She worked at Gotham Community when you - she was the one - she was the one who was there when you had your -"

"I love you, I’m glad you’re safe. Stay inside," she says in a rushed breath to end the call, relieved enough at her mom’s safety she doesn’t feel nauseated with worry anymore. The news had been recapping the story since Steph had gotten home from school, and she’d heard it was her mom’s hospital and been met with her voicemail the past four times she’d called. Now all Steph was feeling was a potent mix of anger and anxiety that solidified her resolve. Bai and Cass weren’t home to argue this one with her.

Hastily scrambling off her couch and to her room, Steph’s jeans are already off when she throws open her closet door. She grabs for her suit hanging in its storage bag and a sharp twinge of pain burns through her shoulder where the stitches still stood out a brilliant, angry red on her skin where the somewhat healed stab wound lay. “This probably isn’t a good idea,” she thinks to herself as she begins wrapping her shoulder in bandages like she would her fists before a fight. Popping half a painkiller so she’s neither fuzzy headed nor too sore later, Steph wriggles into her Batgirl suit. Batgirl climbs out her bedroom window and calls up her bike -god, she’d missed this- and takes off straight towards West Mercy with a bone to pick.

#plot: nemo saltat sobrius #theblondebat

West Mercy currently seems impenetrable. Aside from the cavalcade of ERT that's surrounding the perimeter, the hospital itself is difficult to scale. Currently the only logical access - if one were to go in unseen and silently - would be through the roof, which is eighteen stories high.

Inside the hospital, Black Mask walks through the nursery, studying each infant, crib to crib. His goons have assembled the ward's staff at the nurses station - on the floor, face down. Only Dr Chen-McDougal remains upright, propped up against the wall as she clutches a compress to her shoulder, trying to apply pressure to the gunshot wound.

The rest of the hospital floors are teeming with SWAT, while staff, visitors and patients have - hopefully - been either identified and/or staying behind closed doors. A good safety protocol, even if Black Mask and his crew seem to have no interest in any of the other floors except the one with the nursery.

"Very good, very good..." he murmurs to himself, teeth clacking in his skull mask as he regards the babies. "These specimens will do nicely. I'll create a new generation of Arkhamites with them..." He reaches out a lambskin gloved finger, stroking it along the cranium of a wiggling, loudly squalling child.

Black Maske spins, facing a goon. He looks at his Armani watch and then growls impatiently, "Where's Croc? Damned sewer pest! Why isn't he back yet? He's the only thing holding this operation up. I'd like to be out of here before You-Know-Who arrives."

"Voldemort?" the goon hazards a guess.

Black Mask stares at him for a moment. "No you idiot...Batman. Batman, THE!!! BATMAN!!!"

"I heard Batman's no longer fighting crime," another goon contributes. "I heard he's gone over to our side'a things. I heard the Green Arrow's now acting like the big boss'a this town, tryina hunt the Batman down. Taken on a Robin an' everythin'. Mebbe we should be looking for someone green? Or red?"

Black Mask cocks his gun, and shoots the goon in the forehead. The large man drops to the ground like a sack of two-month old potatoes.

"You do that," he sneers.

zacharythemagician

"I doubt you’d believe me if I did." He didn’t think saying he was with Mia until about twelve, then went home to work on his show for the next day with Bunny would matter. He doubted they’d believe either his girlfriend who also was under the media spotlight, or his assistant. Though the security cameras in his building would have seen him entering, and not exiting until the next day… "How about someone explains to me what I am even supposed to have done anyway. Legitimately. I want to know what I’m being blamed for, not second hand information I’ve gotten from watching the news.”

zacharythemagician

npcblank:

"I hear that’s the excuse your cousin used, on her tour in Europe," The other detective says, working off his partner’s cue. "Interesting that these two incidents’re happening back-to-back, don’t you think? Your Teen Titans gonna investigate it? The Justice League maybe?" He looks around in an exaggerated fashion, then back at Zach. "I don’t see no one coming to support you, from the capes side of things."

Zach squinted at the two detectives, and watched them closely as they both spoke, listing off things that happened, and quirks an eyebrow — but he didn’t say anything for a moment. At least not until one of the detectives demanded to know what drugs he takes, or how much he drinks.

"It is my birthday, thank you," Zach said with a charming smile — particularly at the detective he could tell he was really grating the nerves of — then looks at them both seriously. "I don’t have to answer any of your questions without my lawyer present. I will say a few things though. First off, none of that sounds like anything I would do. Secondly, ‘Disappearing’ it’s not actually something I can do — Magically? Yeah, I can’t do it," he leaned forward with a smirk, though looking thoroughly unamused. "Trust me it’s a pain in the ass that I have to explain this to everyone all the time. I cannot effect anyone, myself included, with direct magic. And if I did this ‘disappearing’ in a more staged, illusion sort of way I imagine that a person who had just caused a mass pile up in that exact spot would have a hard time running off the highway without being noticed by the police, or anyone, unless they were all extremely incompetent. Don’t you think?”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, and sighed when the Detective brought up Zatanna and the tour. “Bad luck runs in our family.” He said sarcastically.

Still he couldn’t help but laugh at them wondering why the Titans, or the League weren’t around. “I guess they have better things to do than deal with ridiculous accusations. Like saving the world, or something like that. That’s what they do after all.”

#zacharythemagician #plot: tea party

Unfortunately, the cops find nothing funny about what Zach is saying, and they stare at him with similarly stony expressions.

"This might be a joke for your kind, Zatara, but the truth is what happened on the Interstate seriously hurt regular people, destroyed their property, caused a huge amount of trouble for the city...."

"And all you can do is wait for your lawyer and treat this like some kinda inconvenience." One detective shakes his head rubbing his brow. "Fine, we'll wait for your lawyer. But if this incident is oh so beneath you, maybe you can tell us why the hell anyone would pretend to be the great Zatara and pull off a stunt like this? You got any...recent enemies you can think of?"

The other detective snorts, grabbing up the docket to shuffle papers. "Recent enemies...yeah, " he mutters, stressing the word 'recent'.

zacharythemagician

The police officer who shows up at Zach's apartment is one that Zach's seen before. She'd come previously to diffuse some of Zach's more rowdier parties. This, however, is different. "Hi Mister Zatara," she says with an almost apologetic, if business-like smile. "I'm here to take you down to the station. The detectives have some questions for you."

His building had enough security that he wasn’t surprised when he opened his door and saw a police officer. “Of course,” He said with a dry smile motioning into his apartment. “Please, come in, let me get my shoes. You know my assistant—” Zach motioned to a haggard looking Bunny who was on the phone with who even knew anymore, and he slid on his shoes.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

He shook his head, “no, I’ll be fine. Stay here and deal with any more media shit. Also call the crew and tell them they have the week off. But you should probably call my lawyer. And Mia if you want to, I’ll talk to Zatanna.” He looked over at the officer and smirked. “Shall we go?” He asked sauntering out the door.

#zacharythemagician #plot: tea party #awwww Zach! ))

To her credit, the officer handles Zach with a modicum of respectful professionalism - she doesn’t treat him like a criminal, but once they leave the building (and the watchful, glaring eyes of the other apartment dwellers) she holds Zach’s arm firmly and uses her other hand as a makeshift barrier between Zach and the throngs of press and lollygaggers.

And there are plenty of both. It probably wouldn’t have been as big a news story if it wasn’t for: a) Zee’s (read: Sindella’s) antics in Europe; and b) the recent hooplah about Nightstar’s connection to the WAVES Magazine massacre; and c) the rumors of an attack on the Titan Tower.

The last issue being less of a thing because most SFers knew that attacks on Titan Tower were run-of-the-mill occurrences for over a decade now.

However, news about Zatanna and Nightstar fueled the excited press and public towards regarding Zachary with accusing eyes. Many of them seemed to already pass judgement.

"You and your sister are going down!!" someone screamed, as the police officer gently cradled Zach’s head and pushed him into her squad car. "The Zataras are a menace to society!! Rights not tights!!"

The brief interlude drive to the precinct was short-lived - press and public alike also waited there to catch a glimpse of the young magician. Many assumed he was already being arrested for the accident on the I-280.

Inside, the detectives were less than pleased about having to question Zach, and even less-so when Zach claimed complete ignorance to the entire incident.

"Do you have an alibi," one of the detective grunted, although it was clear from his expression that whatever alibi Zach gave, the cops would just write it off as rich-boy privilege combined with suspicion of more magic tricks.

Once thing was certain: If he were anyone else but a celebrity, Zach would be under arrest right now.

How to Compliment Someone Based on their Sign

Fire Signs (Aries, Leo and Sagittarius):Tell them they're awesome. That's it. It doesn't even have to be true just tell them they're the best at everything.

Water Signs (Cancer, Scorpio and Pisces): It's all in the little things. Tell them you like their laugh or that they have a cute smile. See them self-consciously playing with their hair? Tell them it looks great. Whatever you say, they'll be walking on clouds all day.

Earth Signs (Taurus, Virgo and Capricorn):Be objective. No bullshit for these guys. Whatever you compliment them on has to be something they know to be true, otherwise they'll know you're full of shit. Oh, you think their hair looks pretty? They know they are having a bad hair day. Bonus points if you compliment their work/how helpful they are.

Air Signs (Gemini, Libra and Aquarius):Compliment their brains. Seriously, just tell them they're the smartest person you know and you'll have them in the bag.

#these things always work so much better for characters #than for real people

The following postcard ends up in each of the official mailboxes for members of the Justice League and of the Titans. On the back of the postcard, it reads:

Tired of the hustle and bustle of citylife? The endless noise of cars and people, the sights of angry people and dull skyscrapers, the way you have to shout to get anyone to listen to you. Phew! Sounds exhausting! Visit the beautiful French heritage city of Troispont, located in the heart of the Caribbean’s star jewel, sunny Solinique. You will find instant relaxation and quiet here.

#plot: nemo saltat sobrius

taisirifrezi-deactivated2021060

wichita smiles

taisirifrezi-deactivated2021060

Jeb sneers down at him, shaking him left and right just for the fun of watching him dangle in the air from his claws like a rag doll. “You’ll see, perhaps you should try and have your eyes opened to the foul way you’re all treating us.” There are sharpened teeth grinning down at him menancingly. From one shady place to another, he drags Tim through the night sky towards what looks to be a gloomy, abandoned theatre.

With relief, Kyle hears Tim’s voice crackling over his comms. His voice is jerky and erratic, thin-sounding. The sound of being airborne.

"Dammit," Kyle mutters to himself, and then looks over at the unconscious metal!Jeb laying a few feet away. "Dammit," Kyle says again, looking up into the sky, scanning it as if he could easily spot Tim and the feathered!Jeb somewhere in the night sky. Thank goodness Red Robin’s reports are detailed and accurate - he could even surmise their speed? - once more for the night, Kyle is impressed.

"So I take it you’re not planning on an escape just yet," Kyle says over the comms. With an irritated look, he wraps metal!Jeb up like a mummy, keeping his wings tightly bound in green light as the Lantern flies up with his unconscious cargo, tracing Tim’s comms and following south-east. It doesn’t take long for him to spot the feathered Jeb, with hanging from his arms. Kyle keeps his distance so Jeb doesn’t know he’s there. "I see you. I’m right behind you, Red Robin, hold steady."

#timothythebrave #plot: tea party

Jeb seems to be tiring out, his flying bobbing and weaving as he lands on the rooftop of the theatre. He's breathing heavily now, hot and stale against Tim's face as he drags the smaller young man down the stairwell, into the bowels of the decrepit theatre.

"Miss S!! Miss S!!! I have a cape for you! A...Red Robin..." Jeb sneers, voice amplifying in the empty theatre. He keeps Tim's arms pinned tightly behind him as they watch two silhouettes appear behind the decaying white screen up on the stage. The silhouettes are curvaceous; one looks to be in a ballerina tutu and the other looks like she is dotted with spikes along her thighs and shoulders.

"Oh golly, a Robin?!" The ballerina sing-songs, pirouetting behind the screen.

"You better not be lying, Jeb, or else I'm gonna slit your throat from ear to ear," growls the spiky one. She withdraws a large hunter's knife from a leg holster, stabbing it into the screen and cutting a hole through it to step through, the other one following close behind.

The ballerina one is dressed in all manner of frills and flowers, all whites and pale pinks. Her hair is a mop of curly blonde, topped off with a little pink bow. Her face is painted up as well, like a rosy-cheeked doll. The other is dressed all in black, with severe black bangs and long glossy hair pulled up into a whiplike ponytail. Her outfit is all leathers in blacks and dark reds, the spikes looking more dangerous close up. Her face painted in dark shadows and sharp angles.

"Well well well..." The darker one says, as she stalks over, reaching up to Tim's face and cupping his chin roughly in her manicured fingers. "It really is a Robin. Jeb's done quite well, hasn't he, Sugar?"

"Oh yes, Spice!" The frilly one replies, dancing over. She gleefully pulls out a taser (decorated with pretty rhinestones) from her tutu, charging it in front of Tim's face. "We need to get his icky gross belt off before he tries anything."

Jeb starts giggling lowly, basking in the knowledge that he brought a prize for Sugar and Spice.

the great wide open

As the wiry, slight stale-smelling teen chants, Green Lantern’s voice crackles through Tim’s comms. ”Nothing yet, Red Robin. I’ll keep you posted when I got some news. Heading up to the Tower’s a good idea - I’ll meet you there in a few.”

"I might need a bit longer. Have some preaching to do," Tim tells Kyle when Jeb starts his tough act. Great, the guy is not only a druggie, but also a complete moron. Tim doesn’t resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as Jeb chants and hops around him antagonizing a fight he will definitely lose without Tim even trying.

"Perhaps you didn’t see because you were wasting your life sleeping of a drugs haze, but your cousin Samuel - also a normal person, like you - transformed into a mutant because he used Double Smile drugs and endangered Samantha as well as everyone he crossed while on his way to the little house on the prairie. Samuel felt misserable after he changed, he asked me to kill him when Green Lantern and I rescued his sister from his stomach - meaning he ate her somehow. Chances are the drugs are killing him right now, but my companion in green tights is with him trying to prevent that. Do you want to experience that so badly, Jeb?”

Tim balls his fists as he tells Jeb’s what’s what, tries to get the facts through the teen’s thick skull and he’s close to shoving him the way he did, but violence is the last thing nervously pleading Samantha needs.

#plot: tea party #timothythebrave #(( aw yeah Tim getting his lecture on ))

Jeb retreats into sulky glaring and not much else. It's clear that Tim's speech didn't quite get through to him, possibly because he didn't see what had become of Samuel, only that the twin had mutated into that robotic conglomeration of flesh and metal.

But he has enough smarts to realize that Samantha is upset; and although perhaps a part of him knows the caped hero speaks logic, his mind is still full of propaganda as he twists Red Robin's words in his mind. He points at Tim accusingly. "You guys sent him to the hospital," he mutters. "This's your fault. We were jus' tryina fight back. You hurt him..." But then he backs down and says no more.

Samantha takes this moment to rush to Tim. "I'm so sorry," she apologizes for Jeb. "I'm gonna pray for you, and my brother. I know he's gonna be okay." She nods, her eyes bright as she holds onto Tim's arm with both her hands.

At that moment, Green Lantern starts talking on Tim's comms. "Okay - the work on Samuel is more extensive than they originally thought. They - they offered to put Samantha up in a hotel in Keystone, so she can visit her brother and get checked out by the doctors here." A pause. "It's all we can do for now, Red."

the great wide open

Behind him, Samantha stands passively, lost in her own sad thoughts. She gives Tim one last, grateful smile, her hands clasped demurely in front of her.

Tim stands back, hardly praising himself as much as Samantha does. He wants to remind her of his companion, Green Lantern, who actually saved her from her brother’s stomach. When the cousin of the twins stirs and comes to live however, taking on an attitude that’s hardly friendly or polite, Tim’s demeanor hardens. It doesn’t feel right leaving her with him and the possibility of the cousin bringing in a new batch of drugs. Samantha doesn’t deserve to suffer even more because of someone’s addiction.

“Listen carefully,” he starts, stepping forward into Jeb’s personal space. His eyes narrow dangerously. “The drugs Samuel used is called Double Smile. You can recognize it by the two purple stickers with smileys on the bags. Don’t buy it again. Don’t use it or any other drug, you hear me? I’m keeping my eyes on you, so If you do, I am going after you,” he warns the scruffy teenager, letting him know bettering his life means no potential fights with a hero and letting Samantha know he will check on her to make sure she’s alright.

Red Robin steps back, holding Jeb’s gaze shortly and nodding at Samantha. “As soon as the scientists have news on Samuel, you’ll hear from me,” he says before leaving the trashed apartment. When outside the building, nearing his motorcycle, he contacts Kyle with a sigh. “GL, any news on Samuel? I’m off to the Watch Tower to run some tests on the bags and the clothing Samantha gave me. I’ll fill you in on my way there if you’re free.”

#plot: tea party #timothythebrave #(( omg and now Tim's being all badass #I am loving this so much ))

Jeb the cousin looks a little frightened - and who wouldn't with a cowled, angry person stepping up close into his personal space. Even though Jeb was a good few inches taller than Tim, he still stumbled back a couple steps, cowed. But his fright turns into something darker and more defensive when Tim offers to keep in touch with Samantha.

She barely makes a squeak when Jeb leans forward again, shoving Tim against his shoulder.

"Hey freak - I got rights! You're not the boss of me, just - b-b-because you wear tights and a mask! You're the real threat for us normals! Just because we now got a way to fight back, get some power back using a drug - how's that any different from you with your aliens and gamma rays and freak powers, huh? That's me thinkin' right. Me and Sammy, we were thinking right." Jeb was getting himself worked up, ignoring Samantha's pleas of 'Jeb no, Red Robin saved us, he's one of the GOOD ones!', hopping around as if he is spoiling for a boxing match.

He raises his fist up, pumping it in the air like a protester. "Rights not tights! Rights not tights!"

As the wiry, slight stale-smelling teen chants, Green Lantern's voice crackles through Tim's comms. "Nothing yet, Red Robin. I'll keep you posted when I got some news. Heading up to the Tower's a good idea - I'll meet you there in a few."

the great wide open

”I should’ve kept a better eye on him, I should’ve - I should’ve stopped him from taking all those stupid—” She takes a couple steps towards Tim, her tears pouring more freely now as she pushes her face against Tim’s caped shoulder for comfort.

Tim closes his eyes momentarily, concentrating on Kyle’s voice and how the tone changes from the kind, confident man he knows to an uncertain undertone that causes him to feel mildly nauseous. “I’ll write GA a full report on our findings asap. I want to ask some more questions and make sure Samantha won’t be alone,” he tells Kyle softly, taking deep breaths to calm his body and mind.

He turns to the girl and recognizes a certain pattern unfolding before his eyes when Samantha becomes angry at herself rather than the dealer who gave her brother the drugs, or the boy who accepted them. If she looked after Samuel more carefully, had been more aware of the drug abuse - the self-blame feels too familiar. Tim releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding when the girl cries into his shoulder.

Yes, this entire situation could have been prevented seeing as you show awareness of his regular drug abuse and allowed him to empty three bags in this small appartment. How could you not have stopped him? They are the kind of words he scolds himself with all the time. Tim places a hand on her back, pressing harder than he initially intents. “You.. did all you could do,” he says, the words sounding uncertain even to his own ears. Tim shakes his head. “But sometimes you aren’t the right person to help them. The scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs are doing everything at the moment to save your brother.” Tim lowers his head and his voice becomes a mumble. “If they can’t help him, no one can at this point, and I want you to promise me you won’t blame this on yourself.” Wow, what a serious case of the pot calling the kettle black.

#plot: tea party #timothythebrave #(( oaaaawwwowwwwww TIm my heart #you darling babby ))

Samantha nods against Tim, not really listening to his exact words through her haze of despair, but obviously taking comfort in the fact that he's talking to her in a soothing tone. He pulls back and wipes her tears with her palm, smiling at Tim.

"You're a good superhero, Red Robin. I'm glad you saved me..." she says and then blushes. To cover it, she turns and kicks lightly at the foot of the sleeping young man. "Jeb, wake up! We're gonna clean this place up for when Samuel comes back, make it nice for him and clean and nice." She turns and explains to Tim. "He's our cousin. He's our...only family..."

Jeb startles and then stands up, looking more awake now. He eyes Tim. "Okay, you had your fun saving the damsel in distress. On your way now. This is our home." He says as if trying to shoo away a dog. Jeb scrubs at his blond stubble. "And uh, thanks fer your help an' all. But we can handle it from here on in."

Behind him, Samantha stands passively, lost in her own sad thoughts. She gives Tim one last, grateful smile, her hands clasped demurely in front of her.

the great wide open

The sleeping boy stirs, stares at Samantha with a pleasant (if slightly high) greeting smile, and then stares at Red Robin. ”Cool…” the guy says, before falling asleep again.

Tim stares at the sleeping teen on the thin mattress while Kyle reports his progress. His eyes narrow at his choice of words. He knows they are interested, alright. And that’s why he doesn’t trust them one bit. “GL, make sure they perform the surgery and do nothing else. Who knows what they’ll do with Samuel’s dna or other tissue,” he warns his companion suspiciously.

"I’m fine, the girl is obviously shaken. Her name is Samantha. I’m at the appartment she shares with her brother; it looks trashed, probably caused by Samuel’s transformation. There are three bags of Double Smile. The drugs is gone, but I’m confiscating them, as well as samples from Samantha’s clothing to analyze at the Watch Tower," the says kneeling down to take the bags and eye the snoring teenager again, wondering if the boy took some of the drugs as well. He thinks of taking some of his blood when the girl re-appears.

He listens carefully, files important information in his memory as she speaks. “Thank you,” he says taking the clothing from her, offering her a kind smile. She’s still lightly trembling, the poor girl. “Do you know who this person was, giving them to your brother at that party?”

The interruption of the sleeping boy causes Tim to bristle and he is suddenly overcome with an urge to yank him off his lazy ass and out of the appartment unless the guy makes himself useful and give him a blood sample. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he lets the anger pass. “Stay away from drugs and people who use it. There are dangerous types on the market and they are anything but good,” he warns Samantha.