secondknight (secondknight) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-03-01 15:35:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | mystique, nightwing |
Who: Nightwing and Mystique
What: A moral challenge of sorts
Where: Rainier
When: Monday night
Warnings: Violence
The row of busy restaurants, bars and strip joints made it difficult for someone to hear a scream from the residential area just up the street. Nightwing had to train himself a long time ago to pick out the right sounds over congested traffic and excited tourists. Tonight the call was like screeching broken glass that seemed to rumble through the pavement to turn his ear. Nightwing was about to accept food from a Chinese restaurant chef that he had helped a couple months ago when it sounded. Reluctantly, he promised to come back later before vaulting over a stone wall into the next alleyway. Nightwing was getting better at just getting up and moving like that. It was almost like he was suddenly double jointed in this world instead of a stupid flatfoot.
A quick run down the street later and Nightwing could clearly find where the break-in was happening. This guy was sloppy. He had broken through the window near the door, reached in and then opened the lock from the inside. Rookie mistake since it made a lot of noise and attracted attention. Nightwing picked up speed and sprinted through the open door to find a woman and her child curled up in a weeping mess in the house kitchen. The burglar was making small threats with a knife in his hand. Nothing Nightwing couldn’t handle. Except when the little girl saw Nightwing try to sneak up on the man and screamed like he was a goddamned ghost. The burglar turned, swiped the air and then went to tackle Nightwing to the floor. They wrestled for a moment and the man even managed to swipe Nightwing’s arm with the knife, but he was back on his feet in a matter of moments.
Nightwing swallowed blood and then sent the man crumbling to the ground with a left hook to the jaw. He bounced back like a boxer who had just achieved a K.O. on an easy target. There was a quiet that hushed over the woman holding her daughter in the corner of the kitchen. Only the sound of the girl’s feet trembling across the linoleum floor, but that was enough to make him want to leave even faster. There wasn’t anything he could do to make these two feel safer except take this guy out of their house and hope they’d buy better locks. He turned to look at the woman with a low, “Ma’am did you call the police?” The woman nodded. Satisfied, Nightwing picked up the unconscious man by the scruff of his shirt, tied his hands and dragged him out the front door.
Nightwing tossed the burglar down the steps face first and then dashed into an alley nearby. People had seen the commotion. They saw someone in a mask toss a goon onto the pavement. He didn’t like it. Being Nightwing was about going in and making sure something got done with minimal fuss and recognition. That wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
Mystique had gotten used to this particular part of town. The Brotherhood recruited a lot of their elbow grease in Rainier and, as a result, a lot of their problems came back there at night.
Tonight was no different than any other night, really. She’d watched the apartment she’d been meant to case, and she had a report to give that was going to be doctored to her own advantage. With Dickens gone from Seattle and no Brotherhood replacement in sight, work had to come to her long distance from Texas. Results had to go back just as far, which meant there was no immediacy in anything she was doing. It was the first time in her life she’d been able to think and plan. She liked it. And as a backdrop, she was becoming familiar with Seattle’s selfless heroes.
The Masks, it seemed, spent as much time in Rainier as she did.
When the alarm went off in the building she was perched on, she didn’t move to save anyone, didn’t move to do the police’s work for them (she never did). Instead, she watched and she waited for one of the many gathered men and women to do something - they didn’t. She waited for the blare of sirens that didn’t come, and barring all that, she waited for the Mask.
He didn’t disappoint, and he was a new one - one she hadn’t seen and whose name she hadn’t read in the papers. Interesting. She dropped quietly onto the fire escape outside the apartment he was in, barely visible, skin deep blue and hair an unfathomable red. And she watched.
By the time he was dragging the man out, she was grinning, and it wasn’t a very nice grin. He was going to walk right into a group of cowards. Maybe this one was motivated by his ego? She was done for the night, and she found herself interested enough to want to find out.
Following him was easy, a matter of turning into something small that crawled and then materializing behind him in the alley. She was dressed in a blue, to match her skin, her top skin-tight and short, her jeans low and her guns strapped to her thighs. She didn’t hesitate before speaking, because she already knew these masks never carried weapons. “Was it worth it?” she asked, voice smooth silk in the dark, siren-filled night.
He didn’t expect to be followed. Nightwing didn’t look anything like the Bat or Sentinel, so most people just let him be. Yes, there were a couple citizens scattered around the city that he knew personally (like the Chinese restaurant chef), but that was out of circumstance. And, sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. Roger wasn’t exactly known for being antisocial and it bled into Nightwing’s personality pretty frequently. Still, he had to keep up appearances.
His foot scraped softly on the pavement as he braced himself. “I don’t think I lost anything.” Nightwing said dryly and then turned slowly to look at whoever was addressing him. He had no interest in coming across as threatening, though there was something in her tone that alerted him as dangerous. Well, hot and dangerous anyway. Nightwing gave her a look of mild amusement and curiosity. The distance between them was enough that he could fight her, unless she was some kind of crazy Creation with powers. Then he might have a problem.
She moved closer but stayed wide, out of arm’s reach and no threat in return (for all appearances) unless she reached for one of those guns. “Does it bother you? Doing other people’s work?” she asked head turned to look at him and cascade of red falling over her shoulder. His suit wasn’t high-tech, wasn’t high-grade, and like the man she’d met in the white face paint, he seemed more common than royalty. That didn’t surprise her either. She didn’t expect wealthy men that had causes that traced back to these alleys. If any of the vigilantes were loaded, they weren’t down here. “Do you ask yourself why they all stood by and did nothing?”
She moved around behind him, expecting him to match the movement, to turn and move into a brighter light just in front of her. She liked seeing what she was up against. Not that she had any intention to attack him, oh, no. Not in the way he thought she might. But then, her intentions had changed before. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t again.
“They stand by because they can’t do anything.” Nightwing hissed, unimpressed with her little song and dance. “Because they’re afraid.” He didn’t understand the concept of doing other people’s work as she put it. This particular ex-cop didn’t know anything except holding up the law. This was his work and it had been since he was old enough to beat down goons. Those who were capable had a duty to help others. That’s what he was taught.
He watched her move, eyes slanted like a beast who had the choice of indulging a little curiosity or fleeing. For all he knew, she was dangerous. Maybe even psychotic. Ignoring her and going on his merry way would be disastrous. “You here to give me a pamphlet on the evils of society?” He asked with a shrug that came off as if he had his guard down. “Joke’s on you, sister. I can’t read.”
“They’re afraid to dial a phone?” she asked, sounding unimpressed with the people he felt were valuable enough to save. “You saw how many of them were waiting when you walked out. They outnumbered that man, and both you and I know it. None of them lifted a finger to help that woman and her child. Those are the people you consider important enough to risk everything for?” she asked. “Do you think she would have done the same, that woman?” It was clear what her opinion on the matter was.
She laughed at his attempt at having his guard down; the way he watched her move indicated otherwise. She walked behind him, then, closer and closer. Close enough to touch, and she placed a blue hand on his shoulder, the color all skin and no paint, obvious in this light. Creation, obviously. “I don’t care about the evils of society. I’m asking you if it bothers you.” She was, and this close her voice was raspy-warm with a side of dangerous.
He gave her hand a look like if it didn’t the hell off him in matter of seconds, he was going to take care of that for her. Not that he didn’t enjoy being touched by a hot blue chick, but she clearly wasn’t interested in an autograph. It was really only a matter of time before Creations like her started showing up. Give a person enough power and some kind of complex against the world and it was easier than a science class volcano experiment. “You can’t expect everyone to be strong.” Nightwing said finally, letting his guard down for a moment.
“It bothers me when someone is so jaded they can’t see the point in helping their fellow man.” He looked up at her with a judgemental gaze. He was a boyscout, there was no doubt about that. Maybe a foul mouthed drunk one, but a goodhearted boy nevertheless. There was always something weirdly innocent behind his eyes. Like he never really saw the world for the monster it could be even though he was fighting it back every night.
“It bothers me when we spill our blood to help people who refuse to help themselves,” sh said, and she did pull her hand away, walking around in front of him and giving him a long, long look as she stood there. “Isn’t it better to teach them to be self sufficient?” she asked, turning and starting to walk away from him in a slow, slow sway. Once she was a few feet away, she turned and looked at him again. “They’d turn on us in a heartbeat, if they knew what we were, these innocents you’re dying to protect. They’d raise arms against us like they won’t do against their own criminals. They’d be brave then.” A pause. “Think about that when you’re saving them.”
“Prove it.” Nightwing wasn’t going to let her get away with jumping him in a dark alley with her strange mantra without having anything to show for it. “Prove that they’d turn on us.” He took a couple steps after her. He wasn’t sure how she would go about such an experiment, or if that was even the morally correct thing to do, but his pride was on the line. The masks did get a bad rap sometimes, he didn’t need another Creation thinking that he was insane or useless to the people he was trying to help.
“Now?” she asked, turning when he followed. She loved a challenge. “Alright.”
She didn’t dissolve or fly; she used training alone to scale the side of the brick building, moving until she was high enough to hear the sounds of the neighborhood. And she listened for something. It wasn’t immediate, but eventually it came. A sharp scream a few alleys over, no louder than a cat mewling on the night air, and she jumped down and landed on booted feet. “Coming?” she asked, even as she broke into a run, heading toward the sound.
When she neared the alley, the screaming got louder and yet no one came. It was a darker part of Rainier, a part good people didn’t go near unless they had to, and she wasn’t surprised to hear the gurgled screaming go unnoticed there. She looked up, watching a tenant close their window on the sound, and then she pressed forward, into the alley, where a man was holding a woman against the wall and tearing at her panties.
She stepped forward quickly, still no ability in use, and she grabbed the man’s shoulder and pulled him back and off the woman. He turned on her, intending to fight, but when he saw blue skin, he stopped. Dead shock and stock still, and the woman, the one bruised and bloody against the wall, she SCREAMED. But not at the man; oh, no.
Mystique glanced over her shoulder, searching for Nightwing with a look that was plainly I told you so.
Nightwing, curious and determined, raced after her. He wasn’t surprised at the blind eye turned here, either. It was typical that people had seen so much crime and strife that they had to just for their own sanity. He forgave it. Invented his own ignorance just so he could keep helping them. He slid to a stop on the edge of the alley and waited. What followed was a quick session of disappointment. The look on the man’s face was expected, one that he had seen himself and even more-so if the Bat was around, but the woman was unexpected. Her scream and the terror in her eyes boiled his blood.
Like a magician, Nightwing slipped on brass knuckles so quickly one would think he was wearing them the whole time. He felt the need to misdirect his rage towards the man who assaulted the woman. He couldn’t punish her for snap judgements against a woman who saved her fucking life, so he’d beat the daylights out of a man who deserved it for different reasons. Before the man even knew there was another person in the alley, Nightwing had tackled him to the ground and busted his lip open in three different places. He didn’t stop until he could see trails of bright blood on his knuckles. Until the man couldn’t open his eyes anymore. It was a silent, quick, brutal sort of beating. The unsettling kind that was completely void of glamorous, movie theater violence.
Finally pulling himself off the ground, Nightwing gave the woman a look like she was next if she didn’t get the hell out of there. Another scream and the woman streaked past them like an injured alley cat. He watched her go and then shot the blue woman a look of reluctant defeat that was nearly apologetic. A moment passed before he took off his brass knuckles extended a hand stained with some mook’s blood. A truce? Sign of defeat? Something like that. “I’m Nightwing.”
Mystique watched it all with interest, though she didn’t make a move to help him beat the man to a pulp. In fact, she didn’t move at all, because when she tried, the woman screamed louder, and the man seemed to remember there was a freak in the alley that was more dangerous than the one beating him into the ground. And so she let Nightwing take care of it, and she didn’t make a sound until he was done and the woman had fled.
“Mystique,” she said, glancing down at the man on the ground. “Anger issues?” she asked him, looking back up at his face and then coming close, close, close enough to look up at him, her body close enough to feel warmth on blue skin. She glanced down at his offered hand, and she let herself feel a flash of worry for how trusting this one was. “You don’t know me well enough to let me touch you,” she told him, thinking of the number of men and women in the Brotherhood who could take someone down with that touch alone, gloves or no gloves. “That’s my tip for tonight, Nightwing.”
“A little, yeah.” A boyish grin at the question about his anger issues. Almost like he was proud of it. Nightwing let his hand drop to his side with a shrug. “Here’s my tip, beautiful: sometimes you gotta make friends if you wanna survive here. Maybe you don’t need them now, but you will.” He seemed sure of it. Something in his voice seemed to suggest he had experience with that. This girl had a different philosophy than him and for good reason, but she didn’t deserve to be treated differently just for the blue skin. Especially in a town where a grown man dressed up like a Bat.
“Friends,” she said, as if she was considering the possibility, which she was, really. She had, after all, lied to the entire Brotherhood to get to Seattle for something that could only be called a connection - family, not friend, but it was the same thing. And how was that turning out for her? She shook her head in the end, moving just that last touch of space and pressing her cheek to his in order to whisper into his ear. “How do you know who is a friend and who isn’t?” she asked, and yes, she’d been blue since the day she walked through the portal. Could she be the same as him? Yes. Should she have to be? She didn’t think so. “Why should I have to be something I’m not to walk in the daylight?” She added, moving back, the question entirely rhetorical.
A step back, then a another, and another. She watched him as she backed out of the alley and round the corner, disappearing on the sound of wings.