damian calls the shots (forthecowl) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-05-12 10:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | damian wayne, stephanie brown |
Who: Batgirl and Robin
Where: Gotham
When: Backdated wwaaay back when Batgirl first showed up
What: Batkids on the prowl, rawr
Warning: Mostly Damian being a little brat.
Gotham was different, Stephanie could tell that immediately. She hadn’t needed the countless rounds of comments popping up on the tablet really, but they confirmed a lot of her suspicions. Bruce, he was not the Bruce she knew. The one who orchestrated ridiculous tests to gauge her skills because he couldn’t just trust people, but that was still the Bruce she knew. The Batman she knew. Selina didn’t know her either. Not existing in the lives of people very key to her upset her greatly, and as she slunk into her suit, her lips persistently frowned. In Catwoman’s world, Stephanie Brown wasn’t even Batgirl anymore, and the red hair pointed to one woman. She didn’t fault Barbara, of course, because if it was an alternate universe, chances were Stephanie didn’t even exist. But, still, it stung to think that the one thing she’d done for herself -- put on the cowl and become Batgirl -- could be brushed away so readily.
It felt good to stretch her legs and swing through the crisp Gotham night, even if this Gotham wasn’t the exact same one as hers either. The city was fairly similar, but minor details she memorized over the years of patrol were different. Different beats, different criminals, different alleys. Different Batman. Different allies. Grayson wasn’t around, and Stephanie guessed Tim wasn’t either. At least (and she admitted this begrudgingly) Damian was around. He claimed to be older, but god knew the kid liked to toy people a little. She didn’t feel any older, after all, and didn’t look any older either, but she gave the kid the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t too bad, and it would be good to see a familiar face.
Not having Barbara around limited her resources a bit, but she still had her full arsenal of weapons and tech, and the grapple hook sung through the night as moved between buildings towards Wayne Tower, the beckoning skyscraper at the center of the city. The soreness in her limbs spoke of how long she had been out of commission thanks to her guy’s wariness about the door, but she made it to her designated meeting area within the hour like she said. Her landing on the roof was a little rough, and she stumbled to a stop, thankfully not toppling over. “Crap,” she said as she straightened up and stretched a bit. She needed to get in here more often, or this would be trouble.
Damian was waiting for her; patiently standing in a well placed shadow. “Clumsy, as always.” He said dryly in that tone that made most people want to punch the smugness right off his stupid little face. Well, except he wasn’t so little anymore. While not as lanky as Grayson or even Drake at his age, Damian was more muscular. It wasn’t much of a surprise given his favorite methods of fighting involved a lot of brutality, but it made him look more like a mini-bat than a Robin. The Robin outfit was without the yellow cape, now just a blood red vest, thick black pants, boots made for stomping in heads and a huge utility belt filled with only god knew what. He smirked, the mask on his face tilting a little over his cheek.
“This is your first time in this Gotham, I take it?” Robin moved out of the shadow almost completely and stood at the edge of the Wayne Tower. “It’s more blue, isn’t? Like someone tried to cover the old parts with metal and glass. My Alter says it was modeled after the Vegas side’s Chicago and New York. Which means there’s more water ways and tougher sewers.” He pointed a gloved hand across the horizon towards the bridges and water.
Her head snapped in the direction of the unfamiliar voice, but what it said left no question of the source. If looks could kill, Damian Wayne would probably died twenty times over by the hand of Stephanie Brown. Not just then, as she stood on the roof, wind whipping against the pair of teens standing there, but practically every time they spoke to each other. Their rapport was something akin to siblings, and she was just fine with that in theory. The scowl visible under her mask, however, told a different story. “And you still haven’t learned the whole ‘If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.’ We’ve both got some growing to do.”
As he stepped out of the shadow though, she realized Damian did grow a bit. “Holy crap,” she muttered to herself. The sight had her stock-still for a moment because Damian hadn’t been lying. Last time she saw him, he was still that mouthy little ten year old. Forcing herself not to think of Tim or where he was right now, she followed Damian towards the edge though kept a little distance between them. “Yeah, my Alter’s been chirping at the back of my mind all night. Says this is based off a movie which means lots of underpasses, too, from what he’s said?” She turned away from Robin and looked off at her home that wasn’t so much her home right now. Blonde hair and black cape flowed in the wind, and in the light hints of purple popped against the black of her suit. “It looks colder, if that was possible.”
Damian was secretly glad that someone finally remembered him. Stephanie Brown was one of the few he tolerated as a child and having her on his side was a strange comfort. His edge softened a little as he moved away from the side of the building and turned to look at her. “It’s a difficult adjustment, but you’ll adapt.” Damian handed out compliments rarely like his father in the vaguest way that he could, but the effort was still there. His voice lightened a little, almost boyishly. “Come on. Let’s see if you can still fly.”
He ran past her, grappling hook shooting through the quiet of their heights and he nearly faded into the darkness. Gotham’s pockets of thin light bounced off the red. Illuminated the blocky shape of a grown teenager that didn’t have use for his bright yellow cape any longer.
His sudden movement caught her off guard for a second before she let out a quiet laugh. Of course the kid was still all business. He had a good start, but she ran after him quickly, her own grapple hook zipping through the night along with his. This was just what she needed, she thought as she pushed herself over the edge. Yes, just what she needed. To stretch her legs, to feel the crisp breeze nipping at her face and blowing her cap. To see a familiar face. Nice as Nick was, the months definitely made Steph a little stir crazy, and it felt good to be in her own body again.
She spotted him a little further ahead and waved as she caught up with him. “Thank god your little birdie wings grew up with you!” she shouted over the whipping wind with a teasing grin. Boots hit the lower roof an apartment building much more gracefully than at Wayne Tower, her physical skills awakening more and more by the moment. Perching herself on the edge, she scanned the cars and people on the street below.
He grinned back like a little brother happily playing with his older sister in the backyard. Swinging through the air and defying death like it was nothing was the bat-family’s version of bonding. Maybe Gotham was different and it wasn’t used to seeing a couple vigilantes flying over the streets at once, but maybe they could still make it their home. Maybe this Gotham didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Instead of flying through the air like a trapeze artist, Damian had a way of flinging himself like a weight at the end of a string. It was the cause of all the momentum, but not as elegantly graceful as Batgirl or Grayson. It was purposeful force, a tightly wound machine of energy that moved with efficiency over style. He landed next to her, standing a little from his crouched position. “I’m starting to understand why the other Robins upgraded to new names.” He was getting used to being called little birdie and such, but it didn’t always match up with how he felt.
She didn’t look up when she heard him land, eyes still taking in all that was going on below. She looked amused though and laughed at his comment. “I guess Robins have gotta grow up someday. I didn’t really get a choice in the matter.” She rolled her eyes, briefly reminiscing on being fired from the cowl by Batman, and wondered how similar this Bruce was to the one she and Damian called their own. “Nice job losing the cape. Makes you look all grown up.” Steph looked up at him then, giving him a warm smile.
“How’s it feel not having to look up at everyone now?” Despite the teasing and the fights in the past, she did care about Damian and wanted to test the waters. To see how he was doing with all this. To see what a teenage Damian Wayne was really like.
Damian gave a muffled, barely-there laugh and fell silent. “It’s a lot easier being small and young. People underestimate you and that works just fine. Now everything is so much more complicated.” He remembered how simple things were for him at ten. Adults were the ones who had needless complications that lead them to lie and act out. A ten year old with one goal, a focus, didn’t have hormones, pride or even that much fear to distract him. He felt more sympathy as an adult, more aggression. It was troubling.
Below them was a sudden scream and Damian perked up like an eagle disturbed on its perch. The sound of frantically clicking heels sounded down the alleyway they were above followed by cat calls and laughter. The Bat signal wasn’t in the sky to scare of goons with too much freetime. They thought it was safe to come out and play. They were, of course, wrong. He looked to Batgirl for confirmation she was in for kicking around some idiots and then bounded down like a deer down the side of a canyon. He landed between the woman and the four men, slowly drawing his talon blades as their edges shimmered in the murky Gotham light.
His answer made her frown a little. He was a good kid, or he tried to be as best he could, and now things were complicated. Well, of course Steph realized that came with the overnight switcheroo into adulthood (or at least teendom), but she suspected something else was going on. Maybe something to do with the new, completely different Bruce or the lack of some key people from their lives. Maybe it was something else. In any case, the blond was determined to make the Robin sing about all that happened before she emerged again. At least, that was, until the scream echoed from below. Later, then.
She nodded briefly to Damian when he looked back and let him take the lead this time. (He always tried to take the lead anyway.) Her descent to the scene was much more graceful, using ledges and fire escapes and her grappling hook to flip onto the ground as quietly as possible behind the men. While they tried not to seem too scared, especially in the face of someone not dressed as Batman, the blades caught their attention certainly. A Batarang held steady between her fingertips and her body as stretched as it would ever be, she waited to see the thugs’ moves. If they decided to try to give up a fight or not.
Damian stood silently in front of the small gang of men, turning his talons around in his hand to make them see how sharp they were. The men started slinging insults at him, threatening his life, all the usual chest beating and roaring that came with savages. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move except for the glimmering sharp edges in his hand and that just made them more angry. Predictably, one lunged towards him and Damian sliced him hard across the chest and put a boot up his stomach. The next tried to stab him with a knife of his own, but Damian cut it out of his hand.
At first, his fighting style didn’t seem that different from his childhood. Less bounding around like a tiny ape, but just as brutal and hard hitting as it had ever been. Then, if she was looking close enough, Stephanie could see a lightness on Damian’s face. Maybe even the start of a smirk as he bested common thugs. It was more of a Dick Grayson quality than a Batman, but Damian was a boy without true tragedy. He couldn’t help it.
Steph’s fighting style had always been more graceful than Damian’s. Less brash and more acrobatic. She relied heavily on her gymnastic skills when in the suit and always found it a little unnerving when he bashed around violently. He was fast though, impossibly so at times, and the years hadn’t softened his edge too much. Stephanie was impressed. But then again, Damian was always good, if kind of rash, and Dick always had a knack for reeling the rashness in. She hoped he would be here soon, and Barbara, too.
If they took Damian as a joke, they thought the girl dressed as the Bat was absolutely hilarious when they finally caught onto her presence. Until, of course, she elbowed one of them in the side and brought her knee into his face as he doubled over. She flipped back to avoid the jab of a knife, knocking the blade out of the man’s hand when her heavy-toed boot connected with his wrist. Landing in a crouch, she eyed Damian and saw that gleeful glint. It earned him a raised eyebrow, but soon she was distracted by movement to the left of her. Before the man lunged towards her, however, she flicked her wrist and launched the Batarang at him, which cut through the fabric of his shirt and nicked his arm before returning to her hand. “Oh, you think this is just a boys’ club, don’t you?” she teased the guys with a grin.
Damian took a running slide towards another man who was clearly questioning his life decisions, throwing the man off balance before kicking his knees in. “Batgirl doesn’t like it when you don’t invite her to play like all the other kids on the block.” Damian was making a joke, but his tone was dark and serious. Deadpan at its finest. He pressed his talon blade against the man’s face. “Say you’re sorry.” The man, too scared to even scream tried to spit out words, but nothing came out. “Suit yourself.” Damian’s blade sliced the man’s cheek and he delivered a knockout punch to a pressure point in his head.
Letting Batgirl take care of anything else that thought it was a good idea to move, Damian stood up straight and walked over to the woman they had protected. “Th-thank you.” The woman’s shoulders folded in on her body like she was trying to vanish into the night. “If she’s Batgirl, then who are you?” The woman asked, finally looking up at Damian as her face turned a little red. He smiled at her the way a Wayne boy was taught to smile at pretty women. Damian knew he was handsome and had even learnt how to enjoy the attention from women.
“You can call me Robin.” Damian said like he thought that would impress her. “Robin? Isn’t that a girl’s name?” The woman asked, suddenly not giving into any of his superhero charm. Damian just stared blankly at her, all swagger gone.
Cut and bruised up, two of the four men fled as soon as given the chance. One was still knocked out where Robin left him, but the other still thought himself a match against a girl. She just got a lucky shot, he taunted her, that was all. She smirked because jerks who underestimated her and went after women were her least favorite kind of jerks. Her favorite to teach a lesson, though. And a quick lesson it was. One swift kick to the chest and another roundhouse kick that connected her boot to his diaphragm left him wheezing with pain and kneeling on the floor. Pleased enough with that, Steph turned towards Damian again, and caught the tail end of their conversation.
A girl’s name. She nearly had to bite through her lip to stifle her laughter, but a little snort escaped anyway. “Robins are very fearsome birds. Especially the Gotham ones. Are you okay?” she asked the woman, who nodded slowly, still eyeing Robin like she saw right through him. Steph closed some of the distance between herself and the other two and touched Damian’s shoulder. “Ready to get out of here, boy wonder?”
Damian huffed. “You were probably asking for it in that skirt.” He said with all the grace of a YouTube commentator and shot a grappling hook towards the sky. In seconds he was zooming off towards the rooftops. He swung through the Gotham skyline for a little while before finally landing. “I’ve really got to change my costume.” Damian wasn’t ready to stop being a sidekick, or so he thought. He was experienced and a great fighter. So what if he was a terrible detective? He could ask Roger for help if it really came down to that.
Steph looked after Damian in horror for a moment. And there was the Robin she knew. Immediately, she waved her hands in front of her and said, “You were not asking for it. You’re okay now, go ahead.” And with one quick glance back at the men that started all the trouble, she shot up and after Damian, following him through the cool night air. She was seething, just a bit, because nothing bothered her more than stupid comments like the one he just made. She caught up, finally, and landed with a loud thud on the apartment building rooftop. “Robin! You can’t say stuff like that, especially to someone who just got attacked! No one’s ever asking for it!” She flailed her arms a bit in frustration, but the cowl thankfully hid her reddening cheeks.
Damian turned sharply to look at her, eyes rolled. “Is that what they taught you in your women’s studies class? Please, regale me with more useless rhetoric from the oppressed.” He spun his talon once and then holstered it like a cowboy. “I’ll say whatever I please. That woman should thank me for wasting my time on some thugs.” He stormed away from her, standing on the ledge of the building as he eyed the city. A new costume. Yes. And, it had to look cool. “I think I gave a sufficient tour. The batcave is open to you if you need it.”
Stephanie huffed and placed her hands on her hips. Why did she expect him to be any different? Sure, he was eighteen, but he still had edge of that little kid who called her Fatgirl. She had to fight back a sneer at his jabs. “You haven’t grown up at all, Wayne. You’re still an insufferable little brat!” Childish, maybe, but she was irritated, and she and Damian always fought like brother and sister. She didn’t chase after him though, opting to keep the distance between them. If she had to see his smug face up close anyway, she might hurt him. She could at least do that now; he wasn’t ten anymore physically.
Damian grinned, looking down at the busy Gotham streets as one of his feet dangled off just slightly. Stephanie Brown was a special sort of superhero. She had more baggage than any of the other girls that put on capes and enough attitude to even keep him in check. For the most part. She wasn’t the only member of this new generation of heroes. He was the poster boy for weird, violent and ill-suited sidekicks. This was the island of misfit cats and bats, after all. “Love you, too.” He gave a half wave over his shoulder at her and took a leap off the edge into the night.