Who: Doug Ramsey, OT any passing rooftop vigilantes for reaction or better, interaction, please! NPCs: Mortimer Drake (no relation) aka the Cavalier Where: Park Row Community Center, Rooftop When: June 7, 2012. Evening. What: Doug practices self-defense when Mortimer Drake, reformed villain and Leslie Thompkins' bodyguard, shows up for a Talk. Rating: PG-13 for birds and bees.
The clinic's roof was not the ideal place to practice. Most of the surface was uneven, except the corners. Douglas Aaron Ramsey listened to the city, melting into the sounds and patterns like some kind of mutant meditation, as he practiced, and repeated, the movies Batgirl had taught him. Self-defense routines that some Google research had given him the name 'katas'. He knew this was just the tip of an iceberg, but it was his tip to try and master. Down below, people would walk, some with speed and intent, the fear shouting in their body language... but others with their heads held high. Ones who knew there were silent guardians out there.
People like Batman, and Doug's girlfriend. He honestly didn't know if that was the right word, but he wanted it to be, so he'd taken to using it. He wasn't sure their relationship could survive such extreme and unusual lives. If anything, that made him more determined to act. To be proactive, to help. It was certainly a more selfish motivation, but selfishness was clearly working when it came to maintaining a desire to be up here, practicing until his muscles ached.
It wasn't like his work here was unrewarding. On the contrary, helping Dr. Thompkins with people was maybe the most rewarding thing he'd ever been a part of. His language abilities had already proved useful, and word was clearly getting out to immigrants in the area who'd yet to learn English that the clinic was better able to assist them. The pride he felt at this even showed a bit at school. His head was up, his confidence was greater. He almost felt like a new man. He decided that, despite being asked not to trouble Oracle, the hacker deserved at least a thank you.
The rooftop access door opened, and Doug's instincts were to bring up his guard. When he saw who it was, he dropped his self-defense posture and sighed. It was Mortimer Drake. When Doug looked at him, he couldn't help but think of Edward Nigma. Not because they were anything alike - except perhaps in the theatrics department - but because Drake was a reformed villain. He once dressed up as a pirate or musketeer and went by the name Cavalier... basically he was a glorified thief who had been sent to prison more than once.... and honestly, even without a costume, he still resembled someone from Pirates of the Caribbean. And sometimes talked like Jack Sparrow.
The man smiled and raised his arms in the air with a flourish. "Call me Mortimer!"
Sure? How the heck was Doug going to react to that.... "Sure?"
"I see you are practicing how to fight. You maybe fancy yourself a buckler of swash, a fighter of the bad guys." Mortimer put his fists on his hips, looking out at the city with a heroic expression on his face, straight off the silver screen. Was this guy really for real? And he was working up to something, Doug could read that much in his body language. Something a bit more serious than Man of La Mancha dinner theatre.
"Something like that," Doug replied, grabbing a bottled water, twisting off the cap, and taking a long drink. He wiped sweat off his brow, and felt comfortable enough to straight up ask the man what was going on. They'd worked together with Leslie for two weeks now, so it wasn't like he was some complete stranger. "What's going on?"
"The city sleeps. Most of it." Mortimer raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Doug. "You do not. Perhaps you are waiting for someone? A girl? A... Batgirl?"
Doug's expression went from one of bemused distraction to complete shock. "What do you mean?"
"Not just criminals come here looking for help with their injuries. Some of them wear capes and fight outside the law..." Drake nodded at Doug. "If that is your intention, I believe you have a long way to go. You do not need to play coy with me about Batgirl. The Doctor, she tells me you are seeing a girl. A girl I never see come or go from this place, and yet you are seeing her, and the list in my mind grows very small. Perhaps I am wrong. There are others that wander the rooftops..."
Doug nodded, hoping the man would think down these lines. "Like the one with the purple cape and hood who's been on the news..."
"Eggplant."
"What?"
"It is eggplant, not purple. Do not worry, such distinctions are lost on those who do not have an eye for such things."
Right. Let's go with that. Doug was now wondering how much Leslie knew. He knew the less-secure supplies weren't really inventoried, and since he'd grabbed condoms and not needles, he thought it was safe. But maybe she knew Oracle? Or.... god, she might know Batman!
"I'm seeing someone," Doug replied, vaguely.
"Ah, secrets. Fine, that is a safe way to play things in Gotham. And speaking of safety..." Doug's face went scarlet, and the older man recognized the change in his face, "yes, I am here to talk to you about making big decisions. The kind that don't include running on rooftops."
"We really don't have to do this."
"Leslie insisted, and since I am the only other man who works here, she asked me to do so on her behalf." He folded his arms. "So, first I have a question. Have you been intimate?"
"I..." almost? "No, no we have not. Not... umm, you know, that." Doug was fidgeting something fierce. "We... no."
"Good. There are consequences. I'm sure you learned many of them in school... but they do not also explain to you the other problems. You seem very mature for your age, and I can only imagine a Batgirl or an Eggplant Girl are world-weary when it comes to fighting criminals and," he flourished a bit, as if he was wearing an invisible cape, "supervillains. This does not prepare your heart," the 'Cavalier' jabbed a finger at Doug's chest. "Or hers."
Doug sat on the edge of the roof, his hands covering his face, hoping the man would stop talking. "I get it, I get it," he mumbled.
"Good! Then that talk is done. So tell me, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much panache does she have?"
Doug laughed. "What? Umm..." he closed his eyes, remembering his fingers on her face, painting an image both strange and familiar. But it wasn't her face, or even how attractive and shapely her fighter's body was that really touched on what he loved so much about her. It was their complete openness and honesty, their unspoken words that hid nothing and conveyed only the truth of their feelings and their minds. "She... there is no scale, Mr. D-... Mortimer. I think it would be impossible to explain what we have. Our connection."
Mortimer Drake did not have that understanding, it was clear, when he replied, "Ah, teenage love. There is nothing quite like the certain knowledge of youth... give yourself time to grow, Douglas. Love without doubt and the hardships of life to better define it can only come with time." The man looked sideways at him again. "Also... I am not so bad with fighting, if you would like me to teach you."
Doug brightened up at the thought. "You would do that?"
"Of course! Unarmed and swordfighting, athletics... if you wish to learn to navigate rooftops, you need tools and practice... all it would take is one fall to shatter that dream. I will teach you what I can. You are limited when training only by yourself."
The boy nodded with a sigh. "Tell me about it."
"I must head downstairs," he said, walking to the door, "Leslie will be out of town until Monday, and I must keep a close eye on things. And Douglas, you are free to make your own choices in this world, but take it from an ex-con: don't make the wrong ones." He stepped through, poking his head out the door. "And if you make that other choice, use those condoms!"
Doug's eyes went wide, and the man laughed as he exited. "Could you maybe say that any louder?" he muttered, as he looked back out at the city.