Wren and Selina have claws (laminette) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-05-14 22:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | catwoman, stephanie brown |
Who: Catwoman and Batgirl
What: Meeting and detecting a threat
Where: The Batcave
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: None
Although wary at first, Roger’s warning put Stephanie on high alert. No Batman and Robin in Gotham. It wouldn’t have been so much of a problem if Barbara or Dick or Tim or even Cass were around. Any of the countless allies those involved with Batman equated over the years. Bruce and Damian both warned her that they were outnumbered in this Gotham, and now with both of them probably out for the count for quite some time, it was Steph against a bevy of bad guys. Wonderful. Nick would be upset, but now she needed to spend as much time behind her door as possible. She’d make it up to him later. Gotham was the priority right now. So, when the door booted her out at the 24 hour mark, she guided Nick right back in. Instead of going on patrol immediately, however, she made her way to Wayne Manor and the Batcave. Damian said she could use the cave, and it would be useful to eyeball what kind of tech this version of Bruce had at his disposal.
Stephanie was still getting used to this new Gotham City, but Wayne Manor was in the same place, thankfully, as were the entrances she knew to get into the cave -- the secret bookcases, the waterfall entrances. She arrived in the cave easier and more quickly than she thought and began inspecting the space for differences as soon as she stepped foot. Like everything about this place, a lot was similar, but differences stood out immediately. A lack of memorials for any of the Robins, for one, and the technology looked different, too. Though she arrived in her full costume, she pulled off the mask. Steph didn’t expect any visitors at all, at least no one who would be a threat. Instead, she focused inspecting every inch of the cave and learning as much as she could about this new Batman.
Selina was already there. Despite her taunts to Luke and Roger, she hadn’t gone for the beds in Wayne Manor (yet), and she hadn’t started trying to take things from the Batcave (yet). She was crouched in front of the baby bird’s little green pool, staring down at the thick, green goop that she distrusted so very much. She was dressed all in black, catsuit and boots and her whip around her waist, but her cowl was back, and her goggles were atop her head, and she looked nothing like the seductive kitty cat that she was supposed to be. Her elbows were on her knees, and she looked worried. Selina didn’t like being worried.
The Cat heard sounds when someone entered the Batcave. Not footfalls or anything as mundane as that, but the kitty cat had already redirected an echo of the cave’s security onto the phone that was tucked into the belt strapped to her thigh, the one that held a gun that evening, which it hardly ever did. But she had a bad feeling about everything, the kitty, and it wasn’t just her own demons she was worried about tracking her down, not anymore. She knew, as well as everyone else did, that a Gotham without the Bat was dangerous, and she wasn’t in the mood to take any chances. No Bat, no Hood, no Robin, no one but Batgirl, as the security chirp informed her. Selina had talked to her on the journals, and she wasn’t exactly excited about another kitten sniffing around her turf. Because whether she admitted it or not, that’s precisely what she considered the Batboys - hers.
Selina didn’t move. Let the little girl come to her, if she wanted a catfight.
The Batcomputer was a beacon of information and knowledge, and Stephanie found herself immediately drifting towards that. Surprisingly, she gained access with little more than her voice, that gruff yet charming outer-Gotham lilt that was so very Steph. She was pleased, to say the least, glad that this Batman was more apt to trust her without all his ridiculous tests. Then again, maybe all of this was one large ridiculous test. She couldn’t put it past Bruce Wayne. Any Bruce Wayne. Before she could begin to look through the tons of files on the computer, however, something on the news feed caught her eye. A pool, blindingly green, and a black figure hovering over it. Quirking her eyebrow, Steph looked at the location, and inferred a pathway from there.
Backtracking from the way she came, she took a right at the entrance instead of the normal path to the center of the Batcave and found herself faced with a climb up a wall of rocks. Great. Maybe this is what Damian meant about the spelunking. She had been stretching more since her night on the town with him, thankfully, so when she began her ascent her muscles didn’t protest as much as they would have before. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and calculated; anything to keep as quiet as possible. After all, she had no idea a certain kitty already had her on her own radar.
Pulling herself over the ledge, she landed a little to the right of the figure, and immediately recognized her. Even if she wasn’t her Selina. “Heya, Cat,” Steph said, voice full of pseudo-cheeriness with a dash of sarcasm. “Come to sniff around a little?”
Selina didn’t move, didn’t turn her head, didn’t even look to see what this Batgirl looked like. The Batgirl she knew was flaming red and an attitude to boot. No girl, but a woman, and the kitty cat already knew this wasn’t her. Not that she and Batgirl had any love between them. The general rule in the Batfamily was that she, the kitty cat, was trouble and definitely not good enough for the Bat. They didn’t hug or sing songs around the Christmas tree, and Selina stuck to the dark sides of Gotham where her own questionable allies were. But, like everything else here, things were different now.
“I don’t have to sniff around things I’ve already got,” Selina said, possession in the tone. As if she’d need to come sniffing at the baby bird’s little pool, when she’d made it possible in the first place. She leaned forward, and she dipped a claw in the thick green gunk, watching as it clung thickly to the metal that tipped her gloves. “So, are you here to kick me out? Because the kitty’s in the mood for a fight, and she wouldn’t mind testing her claws on you,” she said, finally looking over, all startling green eyes and way too young for the suit she wore. “Or are you like Hood and the baby bird? Willing to let the kitty stay and play?”
Steph cocked an eyebrow at the possessive tone. Okay, then. The relationship between she and her Selina was hard to pinpoint, really, but then again, this wasn’t her Selina. No, she was much younger, as the cat had told Steph during their conversation, and held herself differently, even in the way she crouched over the green pool of...whatever that was. Steph’s gaze lingered on the green goop for a moment, curious about its contents and need, before snapping back over to the Cat.
“Depends on whether you’re planning on playing nice or not.” Closing the distance a step or two, the step of her heavy boots echoed throughout the cave, bouncing off the rocks and into their ears. Steph tilted her head a little at Selina as if inspecting the little kitty. “The boys are your new yarn, I take it?” She realized, then, that her cowl was still back and balked for a moment before injecting herself with a little more confidence. Hip cocked slightly, arm resting there, and that head still tilted.
“The Bat has always been my yarn,” was Selina’s response, and it was purred with the kind of certainty that said even a boring movie lawyer wouldn’t be able to change that. Whether the Bat was interested in her, well, that was another thing entirely. And, amazingly, she wasn’t really crying over that particular spilled milk just then. “Or are we only talking about little feathered birds right now?” Because they probably were. She sighed, and she stood, a long stretch of black and curves that were placed just right. “The birds are entertaining,” she said, as if she didn’t care where they roamed to, or who they roamed with. Maybe the sentiment didn’t reach those bright green eyes, but that couldn’t be helped.
“I don’t play nice,” the Cat reminded the little girl playing grown-up bat. “I’m not domesticated. No one’s tamed me.” She gave the green pool one last, slow look, and then she walked up to the little girl in the space with her and gave her an assessing look. “Are you planning on showing me the door? Because that would be a bad-” A warning sounded from the phone at her thigh and interrupted whatever threat she’d intended to make, and a chirped “Manor” indicated where the breach was. Wonderful. “Looks like the bad guys don’t think you’re a particularly scary guard dog, Batgirl.” Which wasn’t surprising. With the Bat gone from Gotham, things were sure to go to Hell.
Batgirl made a face as if to say Fair point. Being inside the brain of a geekboy like Nick had its advantages. Though she hardly took everything to be true, he provided her with enough knowledge outside of her own experiences, and even Steph realized Catwoman and Batman would totally be listed as ‘It’s Complicated’ on Facebook. The birds, however, were her worry. Damian, and she heard the Hood was around, too. Selina’s form of entertainment, huh. Steph frowned at that thought, secretly kind of glad Tim wasn’t around.
“I’m sure plenty have had a great old time trying,” she teased, playful lilt still around the edges. But she was cut off by the beep of Selina’s phone, only trumped a moment later by a barrage of alarms from the Batcomputer faintly echoing to their nook in the cave. Her head snapped in the direction of the noise, and she looked at Catwoman for a moment. “Clearly, they haven’t met me yet. They don’t know how much I hate it when people don’t play nice.” A little jab at the Cat, sure, but Selina was one of those complicated people that inhabited Gotham. One that could be your greatest ally one day and your worst adversary the next. “Care to join me on a little exploring? I promise I won’t put the kitty out on the stoop after.” It was a risk, asking her to come and allowing her into the Manor, but she trusted her Cat and decided to give this one the benefit of the doubt.
“Putting me out on the stoop is going to be harder than you realize,” was Selina’s reply, and she was already on her feet, tugging the cowl over her head and the goggles down over her eyes. She touched the gun at her thigh with her fingers, testing the safety and the trigger, and then she was unfurling the whip at her waist and opting for the quick drop down instead the baby bird’s careful climb. She didn’t expect anyone skilled to hit Wayne Manor, and it was probably only a burglar gone bold with the Bat’s absence from the city, but the Cat didn’t like other burglars in her territory. And anyway, a fight always made her feel better, regardless of what she was fighting for.
“Do you have your little stick?” Catwoman called over her shoulder, once they were out in the Gotham night air. She could see a flashlight on the second floor of the Manor, bopping along without concern, and she frowned. She really didn’t want to fight an amateur. It would take all of two seconds, and where was the fun in that? But nearing indicated that, no, it wasn’t burglars at all. Talons. Two of them, outside the entrance to the Manor. What were they doing here? She slowed her step. “Do they have those where you come from?” she asked, looking over at the little girl wearing the Bat’s sigil. The kitty didn’t want anything to do with Talons, seeing as she wasn’t one of their preferred targets; she wanted to keep it that way.
Stephanie mirrored Catwoman’s movements a little, pulling her own cowl up to cover her face and conducting a brief check of her utility belt for all her equipment. It concerned her how quickly word spread that the Bat wasn’t in town anymore, that only a little girl was entrusted to protect Gotham. But she wasn’t just any old girl, that Stephanie Brown, and Gotham’s most wanted would learn that soon enough.
She nodded at Selina’s question, reaching to pull out the extendable bo staff from one of the pouches on her leg, when she saw the flicker of movement, too. Frankly, Stephanie was a bit annoyed, too. That any old criminal had the guts to try to rob Wayne Manor was stupid on their part, but the figures outside the entrance put the kibosh on that. Every day criminals didn’t look like that, and Steph quirked an eyebrow at Catwoman. “Can’t say that I have,” she said. “But I’m definitely willing to make their acquaintance.”
Selina had stopped in the interim, moved right and into the cover a tree offered. “They,” she said with a point of one claw, “aren’t here for Batman. They probably don’t even know who Batman is. They’re after Bruce Wayne, and if we go crashing that party, then they’ll realize their oversight,” she said. Did the kitty cat mention she didn’t want anything to do with Talons? She knew about the Court of the Owls, because who didn’t? Right, little batlings from other dimensions. She wondered if, maybe, she finally knew something the baby bird didn’t, but she doubted it. Maybe it was just this blonde girl, the Cat was pretty sure had been erased before her own world had been scribbled on a page. And wouldn’t it figure? If something finally showed up that she knew about, it would be bad.
“It’s a nursery rhyme,” Selina explained as she watched the lights bop along. “Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the Talon for your head.” She turned to look at the batling. “We let them do whatever they’re doing, and then we convince the baby bird and Hood to stay away until it’s done.” She wasn’t much older than the girl at her side, but there was no doubt about the conviction in her voice. If Talons were running around doing their clear out people in power because Gotham has gotten too wild thing, then they all needed to keep their heads down. Well, not the kitty cat. The Talons never bothered with anyone like her.
Selina waited for the little batling with the stick to back away, and then the kitty watched the bobbing lights a moment longer before disappearing herself, into the Gotham night. They'd poke around, and they'd leave, she knew, after they found whatever they were looking for.