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07/16/2020 09:37 PM
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[Ghosts of the Underground III: Drabble]
'More for you where that comes from, huh?' Looking at the cool grand in her hands as she stood outside the office, Steph had some decisions to make.
She still needed wheels. Maybe get herself a new phone now that she was back in civilization. God only knew what happened to her old one, though she had some hunches (Oracle data scrubbing being high on the list), and wanted to let Leslie know that everything was going much better than she expected.
Folding the ill-earned gains and tucking them down inside her shirt, she started running through her plans. If she did jobs like that, or similar, she could very easily go back to living out of hotels. Better hotels than the roach motels she was hopping instead of being home and dealing with emotions like a normal human when Arthur died.
A pang of guilt hit her so hard she let out a soft groan as she shuffled away from the office door. 'I should just go home… Mom didn't handle dad's death – No. She'll be doing better without me. She will be.' Swallowing back the sob threatening to escape her, and moving quickly, planning on heading back towards Holly's to retrieve her gear and forcing herself to refocus on what she was to do next.
Focus on anything but people now within arms reach.
Waving absently over her shoulder as she passed Reggie, he called out to her. "Hold up, new girl. You planning on coming back tonight?" Holding back the huff of annoyance, Steph stopped in her tracks, turned and shook her head. "I'm not planning to, but I don't plan a lot of things. Things just happen." With a laugh, Reggie shook his head and eyed her up and down. "Listen. The Boss is pretty lenient during the day, but he can't be seen letting minors in during prime hours. And the guy on the door at night doesn't mess around. So if your non-plans change, slip in through the kitchen. And maybe consider getting yourself a little something to flash with an age on it, something believable, in case Matches does spot you inside." Her jaw dropped, but not as much as her stomach. She couldn't keep her face under control this time. Blinking rapidly she took two quick steps towards Reggie, the hollow in her stomach quickly filling with white hot rage. "Did you just say Matches? As in Malone?" "Oh, yeah! D'you know the guy?" Stephanie didn't know whether to laugh, cry, throw up or all three.
Settling on the laugh, hands balling into fists, she sniffed sharply, tears of frustration welling, and threatening to fall, quickly losing any semblance of control over her emotions. "Yeah, I know him… a friend of mine owes him something... I might have to stop by to give him." Reggie may not have been the sharpest knife in the block, but he could read 'furious female' when it was in front of him. Raising his hands wearily, as if it could be directed at him, and it could, for all he knew, this crazy chippy just walked in and got a job basically on the spot from Penguin, who knew what she was going to do motioned for calm. "Listen, newbie. For your sake, don't start nothin'. I'm sure you can take care of yourself, but he's–" "A right son of a bitch is what he is. You're right. I shouldn't hit him straight on. There's better ways…" "What? No – that's not what I meant at all!" Turning, jaw flexing, trying to divide her attention between the two lots of planning she had to do now. "Thanks Reg. Have a good one…" 'Why is he here? Does he think Penguin will be the next Kingpin? Does Penguin have more information? What have I walked into.'
'But, ok, the hotels. If I do at least one job a day with this money, good hotel, no hopping. I can get myself a bike too. I won't have to walk everywhere. At this rate I'm gonna have to get up at 5:30 for school.'
'I should just tell Penguin where the cave is. I should tell Penguin who Matches is. I – would get them all killed. Do I want them dead? I don't think I want them dead. Do I?' The alternating thought pattern between trying to plan for new life, and potential revenge continued as she retrieved her bags from Holly's fire escape, unnoticed, untouched, just as she thought they would be during daylight, at least, before backtracking towards the outskirts of the Diamond District, and eyeballing one of the moderate hotels that a much younger Stephanie would have only ever dreamed of staying in. Setting herself up with a room on the fourteenth floor, and leaving her bags, Steph went to the nearest convenience store for two things; a burner phone, and the Gotham Gazette. Coming back with a bag of candy bars, along with her intended purchases, she finally made her way up to her room. Looking at the bed, an honest to goodness real bed, not a camping cot, Steph kicked off her almost worn through hiking boots, setting the phone up to charge before moving into the bathroom. "Running water. Oh my god how I've missed you! Let's never be apart again." Turning the taps to start the shower, sticking her hand under the water, wiggling her fingers under the heated, pressurised spray. "Oh my god, this is the best day…" After almost an hour in the shower, returning to sit on the bed in the plush gown, hair wrapped in a towel, Stephanie retrieved a scrap of paper from her bags, punching the number into the keypad, while simultaneously digging through her bag of goodies to fetch a Mars bar, and the newspaper. Holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, flicking to the classifieds, she began looking for vehicle advertisements, while the call connected, a weary Doctor Thompkins answering. "Hello?" "So, Gotham is still just as polluted as ever." Steph could hear the frown in the voice after a brief, confused pause. "What number are you calling from?" Taking a bite of the sugary goodness she had been deprived of for a year, Steph packed it into her cheek to continue the conversation, frowning slightly at some of the more salacious personal advertisements. "My new one. I've already done some work for the day. I told you I knew what I was doing. I got my roof over my head, I'm organising wheels as we speak. Relax." With a tutting loud enough for the call to pick it up, Steph rolled her eyes. "The more you assure people you know what you're doing, Stephanie Brown, the less soothing it is." "Yeah yeah… So anyway. Roman is dead." "What!?" Chewing the chocolate and caramel in her mouth, Steph nodded to herself, flicking the page over. "Mmhm. Selina did him in, apparently. No more Black Mask. That's pretty neat." "Stephanie. Murder is murder, regardless of who it is." Rolling her eyes, letting out a sigh slightly, she folded her legs. "Listen. She did what I couldn't do. That's all I'm saying." A long silence, so long that Steph checks that the call is still ongoing before hearing the voice again. "Not being able to kill someone doesn't make you weak, Stephanie. We've been over this. You're better than that." "Am I though? My first instinct in dealing with my dad as Spoiler was to kill him. I didn't because someone else talked me out of it. That same someone pointed out to me that I reflexively go for lethality in fights when I was Robin. That was my strike one, you know?" Steph had abandoned the Mars bar now, leaving it to sit on the newspaper, curling in on herself. "Look forward, Stephanie. Not backwards. You haven't killed anyone–" "Only half of Gotham…" Leslie sighed, Steph could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose under her glasses. Deciding to change topics, Leslie cleared her throat softly. "So, what's the job?" Steph stalled, thinking of a half truth that would work on the doctor. "Uh… specialist courier, I guess?" "Stephanie… are you running drugs?" "I've only delivered one package! It's too early to say if anything will be drugs." "Oh my go– you're going to get yourself killed again. Or caught." "Yeah, maybe. Listen, I only called to tell you things were going ok so far, and that I had a phone number, not for a lecture. You can lecture me after school tomorrow or something." Not giving Leslie a chance to respond, Steph ended the call abruptly, dropping the phone onto the pillows. After sitting, holding her knees to her chest for a good long moment, staring absently out the window at the darkening skyline, she turned her attention back to the newspaper. After finding an ad for a bike that would suit her needs, she made the call and managed to talk the older sounding man into bringing it to her at the hotel with a sob story about needing to get out of town, away from an abusive boyfriend, and she was paying cash.
Organising parking with the hotel front desk was easy enough. While she was at it she set up her bullsh*t o'clock wake up call, and started pulling her jeans back on under her bathrobe, to get dressed to make the monetary exchange in the lobby.
Twirling the bike key on her finger in the elevator on the way back up, she wondered, and not for the first time in her life, nor would it be the last, how much lying is ok, and when should she just… stop lying?
They weren't hurting anyone, right?
Pushing open the door to her room the city would seemingly have a different answer to that question.
In plain view on the blood sky, now that night had truly set in, her first sighting of the Bat Signal in a year. 'I need to go help.' Was the immediate instinct on seeing it. Before her brain caught up with her emotions, and she slowly slunk across the room to draw the curtains. 'Help like last time? You're more help being dead.' Flopping face first onto the bed, she lay motionless for a moment before feeling around for the room phone on the nightstand, and turning her head only enough to not be muffled when speaking. "Hello, room service? Can I get a giant plate of mashed potatoes please? I don't care what else you have to serve with it, I just want the mashed potatoes…"
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07/15/2020 03:19 PM
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[Ghosts of the Underground II: Drabble]
Apparently, just walking in wasn't her worst of plans. Sure, she didn't get to talk to the 'Boss' immediately, but as soon as you say 'I just want to make some money, I know the city like the back of my hand with my eyes closed' Penguin is surprisingly willing to give people chances. Granted, anyone that screwed him over usually vanished, and turned up in the harbor with some limbs missing, but that wasn't the point. After a brief conversation between the muscle that waved her in that she later came to know as Reggie and the Beak himself, Stephanie was waved over to his table, where the would be Kingpin was eating a late lunch of fish, fish and more fish, all in various states of… rare. "Alright, Missy. I like your style. I'll give you a job. A trial run, if you like. I need a package taken from the fish packing plant to an... old friend of mine." Saying nothing but raising a brow, waiting for more details, Cobblepot slowly grinned, seeing there was already an understanding of how things ran. "No questions? I already like you. He's paid half, so I know how much you're meant to bring back to me. Don't get any ideas." Unable to help herself, Steph shakes her head. "Me? Ideas? Wouldn't dream of it. I do have one question, actually. Is it bigger than a bread box? Will I need a bag?" Leaning in and studying her, eyes narrowed slightly, Oswald let out a sudden loud honk of a laugh, slapping the table top. "You're funny, kid. It's packaged. A bag might help you transport though. You'll get the delivery address from the packing plant. Now before I have Reggie here throw you out on your pretty little backside to get to work, what's your name." 'Ohsh*t' "Crystal. Cris. Cris Brown." 'Goddamnit' She blurts before her brain catches up with her, hoping her face stayed neutral in her panic. If anything happened on her face, neither of the men in front of her caught it. Nodding slowly, shifting to pick up his cigarette holder, Penguin waved her off with the other hand. "Go on now, Crissy. If you do well, we may have a spot for you in the family." 'Oh goodie… just what I always wanted…' Somehow, she managed to keep her inside voice inside. She needed money. She didn't really want to go with her other plans. "Thank you for the job, Mr Cobblepot." Receiving a grunt in response, and being led back out, Steph waited until she was a block away before she started swearing at herself. "Really? You immediately go to your mother's name?! What is wrong with you?! You're an idiot. Stupid, STUPID girl." The pick-up itself went smoothly enough. Someone at the Lounge was kind enough to call ahead about a new girl on a trial coming by to pick up the thing for the guy. While waiting by an industrial tub full of ice in a walk in fridge, the thought crossed her mind about how easy it would be for her to be locked in here and never heard from again, for real this time.
However she was pleasantly surprised when a package in brown paper and twine was handed to her, along with a slip of paper, before being basically shoved out the door.
Honor amongst thieves, or something. Or maybe they knew Penguin would handle any mess caused by a new girl messing things up.
Her innate curiosity drove her to squeeze the package a few times, before sniffing at it, pulling a face, smelling only the fish. Probably by design. She'd have to remember that one.
Unfolding the paper, she saw a number, which she took to be the sum remaining, and the address, which she immediately recognised, unless he had moved in her time away. "Oh, son of a bitch–" At least she had a rough idea of what was in a package this size now, if it was heading to that address. And she felt a whole less safe just carrying it about willy nilly. Maybe. She wasn't an explosives expert. Just an enthusiast.
A bump couldn't set off plastic explosives, right? 'Cake box.' Just to be sure. She could put it in a cake box and then yell at anyone trying to destroy her grandmother's birthday. Perfect. Great idea.
Now.
Where was the nearest bakery?
Gingerly carrying the package under her arm, she poked around in the nearby production company dumpsters, before finding a donut box that wasn't entirely trashed. "That'll do…" Gently slipping the package into the box and closing it, she carried it flat, before setting out to find the mark.
Travelling Gotham on foot took so much longer than she remembered. Job three, get some wheels.
Maybe Mom still had her bike? Was she game enough to go and rob herself? Maybe. She'd deal with that later. Get rid of this first. Taking in the sounds of the city as she made her way through it, some she missed, like music, passing snippets of conversation, laughter, traffic, and others she didn't, like the distant sounds of gunshots, sirens, screams for help, especially when she had to ignore them, she found herself standing across the street from an apartment block that she had been in only once before.
She wished she had a disguise.
Sighing heavily, hoping the Bats and Birds of Prey currently had more on their plates with the gangs than bothering keeping up to the minute tabs on the Riddler, Steph reluctantly moved through the building, taking the stairs to avoid the camera in the elevator. Checking down the hall of the floor and seeing it clear, she shook her head at herself, at her damned luck, – of course she'd get sent here first, the only way it could be a worse delivery would be if it was to Selina – and raised a fist to rap on the door, hanging her head.
Maybe he wouldn't recognise her with her hair grown out. Last time she was here she had short hair. Maybe it wasn't even Eddie here anymore and it was all a coincidence. Maybe–
The door opened a crack, the door chain in place. "Yes? Can I help you?" It was Eddie.
Sighing softly, shoulders slumping, Stephanie raised her head, holding the box in both hands. "Delivery, Mr Nygma. From a friend…" 'Don't recognise me, don't recognise me, don't–' The door snapped shut, the sound of the chain sliding out of place, before the door flew open, and she was yanked inside, the door slamming behind her. While Steph stumbled, struggling to keep her balance, holding the box above her head before righting herself, Riddler jammed his cane into the base of her skull. "What game is the Bat playing now?" Lowering the box slowly, sitting it on top of her head, she turned it to face him and flicked it open, revealing the brown paper package. "No Bat at all, Eddie… Penguin." A long silence between them, Stephanie not moving while her, for better or worse, 'Uncle' peered into the box. Never a fan of the quiet, in any situation, she cleared her throat and offered a suggestion. "You could call and verify with him if you want. Maybe not with the landline though… last I knew the Birds of Prey were keeping tabs on you. It's how I found you the first time after-ow!" The cane came down across her knuckles sharply, jerking her hand back reflexively. "Yes, thank you, Miss Brown, I remember your last visit all too well. It was after your father died. Then you died. Supposedly…" However, he took the box from Stephanie's head, flinging the donut outer shell disguise across the room. "I got better…" She shrugged, not sure how else to respond to the statement that wasn't going to dredge up a years worth of healing and trauma. With a murmur of acknowledgement to the statement, the Riddler peeled off the brown paper packaging to confirm his order was accurate, before moving to open the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Taking the opportunity to glance at what was inside the package, Stephanie couldn't confirm or clarify her suspicion, before having a Chinese takeout bag stuffed into her hands.
Peering into it reflexively, getting wrapped on the back of the head by the cane, Eddie shook his head. "You'd get shot doing that anywhere else. That's Ozzie's. Eyes up." Scowling and rubbing her head, she closed the bag. "I'll just have to remember to wait and be nosy when no-one is watching then." "Better. But keep your nose as clean as you can. Until you're liked and can get away with things. That's the only advice you'll get from me. Consider it even, for the Birds on the line tip." Narrowing her eyes slightly at the Riddler, she backed towards the door, before offering a weak scouts salute and letting herself out, and leaving the building as quickly as possible.
She didn't want to get roped into any games, or busted, after all.
Heading immediately from Riddler's apartment back to the Iceberg Lounge, doing her best to avoid gang lands where she could, (easier said than done, since territories had changed in the aftermath of her mistake, and the year following, and her not having access to current intel) Steph greeted Reggie at the door with a grin, holding up the bag. "Boss order some food?" Being waved in by an almost surprised looking doorman, she looked to the table Penguin was at earlier, before heading towards the office. Cris shouldn't have known where that was, but Stephanie knew all too well where it was, having crashed it several times. Wrapping a knuckle on the door, tilting her head as she looked at it, she folded her arms across her chest. 'Is this new?' "Enter." Came the response from the other side of the door, along with the muffled chirps and clicking of several birds. Opening the door a crack, peering in wearily to see Penguin on the other side of his desk, working through stacks of paperwork, surrounded by dozens of varying breeds of bird on all different perches, and in different cages, she pulled the door open more. 'This is definitely new…' "Uh, delivery from your friend, Boss?" She held up the bag, eyes drifting to the sparrows and robins on a perch built to look like a branch in the corner. "Ah, good. Bring it in." Crossing the room in a few quick strides, she sat the bag on the desk. "Did you count it?" Cobblepot grunts, taking the takeout boxes from the bag, and taking the bundles of bills from them. With a quick shake of her head, Steph folds her hands in front of her, squeezing them together. "I didn't touch it at all. Not mine." With a honk of a laugh, running the bills through a counting machine – he might have been willing to give chances, but he wasn't completely stupid after all – and confirming all the money was there, Penguin counted out a few of the bills and held them out to the blonde. "You did good today, Crissy. No trouble from Eddie either?" Reaching out for the bills, surprised to get so much for so little done so quickly, she shook her head in response to the question. "Good, good… welcome to the family. There's plenty more for you where that comes from."
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07/15/2020 02:59 PM
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[Ghosts of the Underground I: Drabble]
"Leslie. I can't take it anymore. I gotta go back to school. I love you, and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I need social interaction." It wasn't the first time this had come up. It certainly wouldn't be the last.
Not with Stephanie Brown.
Sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of her nose under her glasses, Doctor Thompkins shook her head slowly. "I understand that, Stephanie. But why do you want to go back there of all places? You're going to get swept back up in everything all over again." Putting her hand to her chest, the other upright, the blonde stood tall, great strides in progress from months previously, where she was, well, clinically dead. "Scouts honor, no Bats, no caves. I don't even have a costume anymore." Leslie stared at her blankly, not for a second believing the tale of desperation being spun by the teen desperate to return to some semblance of civilisation. "You were never a scout. And I've seen you make a costume out of nothing on the spot, mid gun fight Katavi." Breaking into a sheepish grin, Steph lowered the raised hand, scratching at the back of her head with it. "Listen… we both know I'll fall back into masks and capes somehow. I always do. You can't keep me from it forever, Leslie. Or Gotham." A long silence between the two, Leslie's eyes searching the sixteen year old for some sort of answers, something that made sense to her. "And when they find you?" A pause, the grin fading as she looked at Leslie, her foster mother's arms folded across her chest. 'Why did they all do that? Crystal, Leslie… Babs used to do it too... Arms folded, over the top of the glasses glaring. Do they think that's gonna change my mind somehow? About anything? That I care about disapproval?' "If they do, I'll handle it. But they'd have to find me. And care enough about me to do something about it." Stephanie responded flatly, with blunt honesty. As far as she was concerned, she was just more guilt to Bruce that he offloaded to Leslie, and no-one else cared. Why would they? They all told her this would happen, and now they were rid of a nuisance.
Leslie's steely attempt at a parental glare faltered for long enough for Steph to press the matter. "You really think they're going to pay attention to a common name like 'Brown'. Hell, there's another Rogue in Gotham with that name anyway. They won't even notice. Bruce, for all the talk about him being the world's greatest detective, would miss his nose in the mirror half the time. He didn't see me when he came to threaten you, and I was in the tent, Leslie! I know how to get around the city without getting busted by the Bats. If they couldn't find me when they were meant to be looking for me, they won't find me when I'm a ghost." Sighing, realising that there was no winning here, Leslie hung her head slightly. "Fine. But I'm coming back with you." "But–" "Yes, I know. Bruce said he would end me should I enter the United States. I'll come as far as Canada. That shouldn't trigger anything on you. And I'll be closer if anything inevitably goes pear shaped on you." Breaking into another grin, Stephanie wrapped her arms around Leslie, squeezing her in a bear hug, the physician letting out a groan. "At least your strength is back…" Snorting a laugh, Steph let go, a wide grin set across her face. "I'm so excited! I don't think you understand. Being homeschooled for a year and a half sucks, Leslie. Yeah I know, life choices, but I miss people." "We need to work out which school, where you'll be staying, how you'll be caring for yourself–" "Gotham High, no choice. It's all that's left after the quake. I'll find somewhere to live. And I'll get a job. I'm resourceful like that. I'm used to taking care of myself…" Squeezing the blonde's shoulders, Leslie's face grew concerned again. "If I didn't liquidate all my assets and set them up in a fund for your daughter–" "It's fine. I know where there's always jobs in Gotham. Not a problem. Don't worry." Steph answered quickly, starting to pace their tent excitedly. Leslie eyed her sceptically, trying to ignore how shady everything about that felt. "You'll be in the same school as…" "Tim, yeah, I know. I'll be fine, don't worry about it." "What makes you so sure you won't get immediately busted." Blankly staring at her, Steph raised a brow, before blinking a few times, raising her hands like a set of scales. "Boy Genius that hasn't been home schooled for having a baby and dying – Dumb Blonde. Gee, I dunno, Les… tough to say. I'm pretty sure we won't run into each other." Shaking her head, Leslie swatted both of the raised palms. "The only thing dumb about you is wanting to go back to Gotham. You could go to Metropolis. That would be nice…" Sticking her tongue out, Steph moved to her permanently packed bags, double checking them. "That sounds boring." "Of course you'd say that… not happy unless you can be in trouble or there's some danger…" "Hey, you're the one that brought me to AFRICA to heal up. You should be grateful I haven't gone to fight a lion or something. That actually sounds pretty fun right about now..." "Oh God, alright, I'll sign your enrolment papers already. Don't start fights. With anything." The exasperated doctor collapsed to a seated position on her cot, burying her head in her hands. God help Gotham. "I will not start them. If they're started though…" "If you had not long saved my life, I'd kill you myself…" Grinning at Leslie, knowing the threat was hollow, Steph tilted her head. "See. What do I need the Bats for. I got you." Shaking her head slowly, exhausted, Leslie took her glasses from her face, to wipe a hand down her face. "How'd they put up with you again?" "They didn't, remember? Fired a billion times. Died because I was trying to prove I was worthy of not being fired?" Steph snorted, her attention on her bags, as if she was leaving right this second. Replacing her glasses, Leslie sighed softly, studying the blonde silently for a moment. Deciding she needed to say what had been nagging at the back of her mind, she spoke suddenly. "Stephanie. Promise me something." Looking up from the bags, raising a brow, Steph said nothing, but indicated for Leslie to continue. "You aren't going to try to get revenge." Letting out a sharp, reflexive bark of a laugh, before clapping her hand over her mouth, and shuffling over the floor of the tent on her knees to Doctor Thompkins side, both eyebrows raised, Stephanie couldn't help but laugh. "Revenge? On Black Mask? I don't wanna go anywhere near him. I still get nightmares, Leslie. I'm good not seeing him, thanks." Squeezing Steph's shoulder, Leslie looked her square in the eyes. "It's not just him I'm worried you'll go after… I've come to know a bit about you, Ms Brown… you hold grudges…" Shifting her gaze from Leslie's, her jaw tenses slightly. "I'm undecided on the Bats. I'll decide whether I hate them or not if I see them." Leslie squeezed tighter, eyes still on the blonde. "That's not exactly reassuring, Stephanie." "You get what you get. I'm not going to walk up and punch Bruce in his stupid face. There, that make you feel better?" "Oddly, no. But it'll do." After a heavy sigh, she shook the shoulder she still had a death grip on. "Let's see about setting up enrolment and getting tickets. I think Geneviève has her satellite phone. She shouldn't mind letting us borrow it." One week, a Transatlantic flight, an uneventful Canadian layover and an exchange to New Jersey later There was a visible difference out the window when they hit Gotham air space. The pollution of the city that gave the nights their bloody glow.
It was hideous. God she had missed it.
She was home.
No sane person should have missed a city like Gotham.
No sane person should have missed a city like Gotham that they half destroyed and died in.
No sane person dressed up like a Bat's side kick and did those things she used to do either, but here she was.
A little bit insane, apparently.
The wheels touched down. The people fought each other to get off the plane. 'Typical Gothamites…' Steph smiled softly to herself as she watched them shove and bicker, just waiting her turn. She was most definitely home.
Job one. Find a place to crash for the night, stash her stuff.
Job two. Get some money. Then get some sleep to get back on US time.
Because school. She never thought she'd be excited about school, but these were new and exciting times. Anything could happen. She could even be a good student. With good grades!
While waiting for her luggage at the baggage carousel, running through the list of places she used to hide out she could check, the ever present droning news on the terminal televisions caught her attention. "–violence continues in Gotham amid gang turf war struggles following the death of notorious Mob Boss and mass murderer, Roman Sionis–" Grabbing the arm of the airport security guard by her reflexily, her legs weak, the rest of the broadcast tuning out. "Are you alright, miss?" The guard, unusually kind for a Gothamite, one of the good ones, steadies her. Steph nods weakly, the lie on her lips before she can help herself, the city already getting it's claws back into her. "Yeah… just a long flight and not enough food…" After a pause, she asks the inevitable question. "Who got him? Bla-I mean, Sionis." Seeing she was now steady, the security guard retreated slightly, looking to the TV, frowning slightly. "You been under a rock or something? The Catwoman did." Letting out that reflexive bark of a laugh, Steph shook her head slightly, turning to collect her stuff as it came around. "Of course. Bet she's not locked up, either… thanks. Dragging her bags outside, she let out a heavy sigh, starting her walk into the city. "Maybe I should send her flowers or something. Oh! That's where I can crash. Holly's place. They won't even notice for the night…" After dragging her sorry self back into the city, dropping her bags on Holly's fire escape, Steph went to find word on where she could make some money. Sure, she could go back to her pizza delivery job, but it might be a little hard to explain to them that she wasn't, in fact, dead.
You know who would have job openings without question though… that slime Penguin. Granted, last time she saw him up close she was breaking his beak for using a kid in a gun running scheme, but… desperate times, right?
Maybe she should have changed into something flashier. Used her assets.
Oh well. Apparently her plan was just walk in and talk to him.
Great plan. Brilliant, Stephanie.
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06/28/2020 10:58 PM
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[Gym Day: Drabble]
'Stop trashing the bags. B isn't giving you any more for a few days. He said something about respect for property and learning better coping mechanisms.'That was rich, coming from the man that practically invented dressing up like a bat and punching things to deal with his issues, but go off, I guess.Deciding instead to not respond to Wendy's message, Steph took herself to the campus gym to try to work out her frustrations instead. Patrols had been too slow, or other people *coughBrucecough* had been beating her to the scene of things, keeping Stephanie sans faces to beat. She did however get the heavy bags at the Firewall. Because Stephanie didn't get fancy training robots like the Batcave, or simulations to run through like Cass's little cave. Which was fine. She was glad to even have the Firewall at all. Even if it was technically Barbara's. Like the Ricochet. And the mantle. You know how it is when you're a mantle thief. You take what you're given.Letting out a low, aggravated growl as she looked around the not too active gym, flexing her jaw a few times before letting out a long measured breath, Steph made for one of the free weighted bags, dropping her bag by the wall and sized it up. It had seen better days, but it wasn't in the worst shape she had ever seen. Some tape around the middle, where it had been more heavily beaten. She could work with this. Rolling her shoulders and shaking her hands out, not bothering with any of her gear, in an attempt to limit herself, or possibly to not have to pay for damages on top of her already bullsh*t tuition with her library assistant wages, Steph sunk a quick hip level left uppercut in, twisting from the hips and shoulders, feeling the bag out. Pulling a face at the amount of creaking and groaning it was already doing on its hook and chains, she steadied it against her body, and let out another annoyed growl. "You aren't doing it right." Blinking twice, Steph whipped her head towards the voice. "Excuse me?"The owner of the voice, a resident frat bro, stepped towards the bag, grinning in a way he thought was charming, and surprisingly not dead from the amount of venom in her response, that Steph immediately wanted to kick off his head. Stephanie vaguely recognised him from the keg rager that caused her to swear off college parties for life. Was he a douche then? Probably. They all sort of were... "You aren't throwing the punch right. You gotta do it like this."
Somehow managing to keep her mouth shut, she stepped back from the bag and folded her arms across her chest. The blonde watched as he wound back and punched with his arm, no hip torque, no rotation, no technique at all.
Unable to hold back the reflexive, derisive snort, shaking her head, it looked like Steph had a target for her bad mood, warranted or not.
"That's cute. Did your teddy bear teach you that one? I know an eleven year old that can hit harder than you."
Looking openly offended, Stephanie stepped up and drew back, giving the bag something a lot of the rogues, and the majority of the masks of Gotham had been on the receiving end of, her right hook, at full I wish this was Roman, my Dad, the Joker or Bruce's face force, sending the hundred pound bag into the unsuspecting frat douche she never bothered to learn the name of, knocking him off balance.
Letting out another long breath, not as measured, an attempt to try to reign herself in, Stephanie stopped the bag on the backswing as she moved to pick up her bag. Maybe there was trouble. Maybe she could go start a fight with the Gremlin or something. Someone who could fight back, or deserved it. Or both.
Where was Jason…?
Walking back towards the speed bag, towards the weights and the exits she heard it. She probably wasn't meant to. It was meant for his slowly gathering bros. Did they always travel in packs?
"Yeah, that's right bitch, you better run."
Stopping mid stride and dropping her bag to the floor –Did it land on her phone? Can't check now. Check later– Steph turned around and smiled sweetly, the smile not reaching her eyes.
"What was that?"
The rapid blink confirmed her theory that she wasn't meant to hear it. As the bros began to jostle him, she took the initiative.
"What's wrong? Afraid you'll get made a fool of in front of your boys? You and me, here and now. Spar. Whatever style you want. I doubt you have any at al–"
"STEPHANIE BROWN!"
Groaning, she didn't need to turn to know the owner of the voice. On campus, she would be Assistant Professor Gordon. But forget that. She was Babs.
Shoulders slumping slightly, she turned enough to look down at her, kicking her bag out of her way.
"What did I do now?"
"I know what you're doing. Stop it."
Letting out another growl, loudest of the three so far, shoulders slumping, Steph scooped up her bag.
"Fiiiiiine. But when I'm annoying later, I want you to know it's your fault."
"Annoying later? As if it's not just your constant state of being?"
As they both turned to leave, the frat bro seemingly saved from a terrible fate, he didn't seem to know the gift he was just given.
"You're lucky Wheels was here to save you, stupid slut."
A look shared between the Batgirls was a conversation all of its own.
"I'm killing him now."
"We don't kill."
"I'm maiming him now."
"I'll allow it.
Both turning back around, Steph setting her bag in Barbara's lap this time, she stretched her arms over her head, purposely cracking joints as loudly as she could. "Looks like we're back on, boys. I think I'm required by law to tell you I've had martial arts lessons even though I don't hold any belts."
Technically, not a lie. Her training was far beyond 'lessons', but she didn't hold any belts…
Frat douche got shoved by one of his friends. He was a man, standing over 6'. She was 5'5". Obviously he had the advantage here, right?
"Don't let your boys down, they believe in you. I'm just a little bitch after all. What, did I hurt your feelings or something? Here, you can even get the first shot in if you want. Free go."
Folding her hands behind her, Steph stood still, three feet from him, chin out.
After standing still for what felt like an eternity as she just stared from her, to Babs, to his friends in confusion, she flapped her arms in frustration.
"Oh COME ON! That teddy bear punch of yours isn't gonna do anything to me anyway, just do it!"
A frown grew across his face, but Steph's patience had worn thin. Turning to leave, shaking her head, she started towards Babs.
"This is pointless. God damn spineless cowards can't do anything when actually confon-"
"Steph!"
Babs began to lean forward in alarm, as the fist made contact with the back of her head. Staggering forward, more from her own momentum being thrown off then the force of the hit she frowned slowly. Stopping to blink a few times she looked at Babs, a grin slowly spreading across her face.
"We can make this our secret, right?"
Before whipping around, and driving her fist home. Again. And again.
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04/11/2020 02:12 PM
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[OWWP - Penance]
Resting her head to the rapidly heating tiles of the shower wall, Steph closes her eyes, letting out a slow hiss as the water beat down against her aching shoulders. There was a good chance all her upper back would be the same color as her suit come morning, but that was just part of the job. Taking a deep, almost soothing breath of the steamy air in, she slowly straightened up, and took to washing the blood (not hers, this time) from her hair, gingerly prodding at her ribs. After the shower, that cleaned her, but didn't make her feel any better, she shuffled off to her bed, pulling on her well loved blue and purple striped pyjamas, flopping face down, unmoving. If aches, pains, a little blood and going to bed sore was her penance to pay, she would continue to pay it, until she was no longer able to.
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03/14/2020 07:07 PM
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[OWWP - Coping]
She is two years old. Arthur has lashed out at them all again. Crystal is coping with pills and drink. Stephanie cowers behind the couch, her 'cape' snatched from her, laying on the floor. Whether they realize it or not, actions have been set in motion that will change them all forever. She is six years old. Arthur has locked her in the closet. Crystal is coping with her drug induced stupor. Stephanie's mistake? Sneezing. Making noise while Arthur was reliving his 'glory days', rewatching his tapes. The lesson taught? Be angry at things you can't control. She is eleven years old. Crystal is no longer coping in ways Arthur deems acceptable. The options are rehab, or he kills her. Crystal choses rehab. Stephanie is left with a 'friend' of her fathers for a week. She learns how to run, how to hide, and that grown men cannot be trusted. This last lesson sticks with her for a long time. She is twelve years old. Arthur is in jail again. He couldn't stop leaving clues. Crystal is coping by going to work. She doesn't seem to be falling off the rails. But Stephanie is watching for the signs. And waiting. Maybe she should learn aikido?She is fourteen years old. Arthur is out. Rehabilitated, he says. Crystal isn't coping. The downward spiral begins again. She knows what she has to do. 'To the Spoiler belongs victory'.She is fourteen years old. She isn't coping. She wasn't smart. Stephanie is pregnant. Crystal is supportive. Crystal tells her she's proud of her for how strong she is. They both agree; Arthur will never know. The baby will be given up for adoption. She is fifteen years old. Arthur Brown is dead. Died for the government, they said. Crystal is coping better than expected. Stephanie is not. She is reckless, more so than usual. Baiting the Birds of Prey into leading her to Uncle Eddie. She has so many questions… She is sixteen years old. This cannot be happening. Is she actually really Robin right now? 'Not bad for the daughter of a failed banker robber'.She is sixteen years old. This CANNOT be HAPPENING. This is all her fault. The city. All those people. Orpheus. Stephanie isn't coping. Stephanie is dying. She is seventeen years old. She can't stay away. The ghost of Spoiler haunted her long before Spoiler returned from Africa to haunt the Batfamily. Or Stephanie returning to Crystal in the hospital. None of them are coping. She is almost twenty years old. Arthur Brown is dead, but 'Aaron Black' isn't. She won't let him hurt people anymore. Hurt her anymore. Stephanie is Batgirl. She copes with her cape and cowl.
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02/24/2020 03:06 PM
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[OWWP - Casualties]
"Batman…?" Her voice weak, eyes barely open. "Shh, you shouldn't try to speak, Stephanie. Save your strength." Even in this state she wasn't going to listen to him. She had things to say. "But I screwed up so bad… it was all me. I started this war…"
The shifting of a chair, soft rippling of a cape. She can't move to look, but she's sure he's sitting by her bedside. "I know. But there's no need to worry about that now, we took care of-" "You were so right to fire me. I'm such an idiot…" Stephanie interrupts. Before Batman can respond, she continues babbling. Even like this, or perhaps more so because of it, Stephanie Brown's train of thought is all over the place. "Does Tim hate me?" A stark reminder that after everything, she is still just a sixteen year old girl, worried about boys. Replying quicker than he could have thought possible, almost harshly, as if it were a stupid question. "No, of course not. He adores you. Always has." A brief pause falls over the room, the sound of the seat shifting again, a weight next to her hand. Was he going to hold her hand? Batman doesn't hold hands. Her fingers twitch lightly in response and she speaks again, as if to cut off a serious gesture. Maybe if she did, it meant it wasn't as bad in here. "I have a baby. Did you know that? She not mine anymore but-" "Don't worry, Stephanie. She'll never want for anything. I promise." Did Batman just promise her he'd look after her daughter? Oh. It is bad. Maybe she should have let him hold her hand.
After another long stretch of silence, she spoke softly. "...Batman?" "I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere…" Oh. It was so bad. He didn't Batman on her. Forcing her eyes open, she grit her teeth, and decided to ask a question that had been eating at her. "When you let me be Robin, it wasn't just some kind of trick was it? A way to get Tim to come back? Or a way to show me I wasn't cut out for the job?" "Stephanie, I-" He paused. She shifted her gaze from his to the ceiling, eyes welling with tears, knowing full well what that pause meant. He was trying to find a way to justify within himself to lie to a dying girl. "Was any of it real? Was I ever really Robin?" This time there was no pause. Another snap response, like it was a stupid question. "Of course you were." Letting her eyelids slide closed again, and letting out the breath she didn't know she had been holding, she sighed softly. "Good. Then I really was part of it, part of the legend, even if only for a little while. No-one can take that away from me." "No matter what." Batman murmurs softly, almost to himself, after she finishes. "I think I need to rest now…" Stephanie Brown finishes, the held back tears easily sliding down her cheeks, as the slow beeping of the ECG ceases, droning to a flatline.
Another of the casualties of the war she started.
One more casualty to his crusade.
A second Dead Robin.
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02/21/2020 07:44 PM
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[OWWP - Freefall]
Standing with the toes of her boots poking over the head of the gargoyle, Steph closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. 'Hold, two… three… and release…' Slowly exhaling through parted lips that tweaked at the corners into a smile at what was to come, she simply leant forward, and fell.
Adjusting her body as she quickly went into a freefall, plummeting head first down the side of Wayne Tower, a streak of blonde, eggplant and black (or darker purple, depending on who you asked). This fall was well practiced, and had a purpose. The rush of wind, and sensation of weightlessness, removed everything else in the world.
Stress from upcoming exams? Gone.
Mind block on a case? Not anymore.
Urge to throttle the rest of the Batfamily? Currently forgotten.
She knew the exact moment when to open her eyes, and pull out of the fall.
The jolt hitting her stomach upon opening her eyes and seeing the pavement approaching at fatal velocity was something she would never get used to, the grin widening, adrenaline coursing through her as she drew the grapple and fired, pulling off to the side at the last possible second before becoming a puddle of Steph Splat.
Could this go wrong one day? Sure, but so could being a vigilante.
Isn't every day really a freefall?
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02/05/2020 10:13 PM
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[OWWP - Shame]
Steph hated this. She knew where this was going, and she wanted to leave. But every time the topic of family came up in the friend group, Stephanie always found a way to weasel her way out of the conversation. This time, as if they wanted to stop that, they brought it up in a moving vehicle (as if jumping from the car wasn't something Steph would do to avoid, well, anything she didn't want to do, really. But that's a different story). "Ok, but, really. What's the deal with your dad, Steph? Honestly." Jordanna twists from her seat in the front to look back at her, resting her chin across her arm, along the back of the head rest. In a drawn out pause, in which Steph collected her thoughts, hand wandering to the car door, the idea of a tuck and roll more and more appealing, she sighs slowly. "He was a criminal-"
'with a psychological tick that made him leave clues behind after his crimes, but he got cured of that, not the crime part thought, nono, rehabilitation only works so much, that used me as a pawn in his schemes, tried killing me repeatedly, killed dozens of people, faked his death several times now, was behind all the sh*t that went down at the college a little while back to try and make me 'better' at my job because he 'made' me what I am-'
"-with an ugly orange costume who's dead now."
'totally not sitting in Blackgate right this second, absoluetly not planning some new bullsh*t to screw with me.' Jordanna frowned, saying nothing, as Steph rolled the window up and down absently. Francisco speaks softly. "Hey, my dad isn't great either… but he's still my dad…" "There's a difference between gambling debt and being a murderer who uses their child as a bargaining piece to try to make Batman and Robin do his dirty work, god damn it." Slamming her fist into the door panel, sitting up stiffly, Stephanie snaps. They sit in silence for a moment, in which Steph hangs her head, running her hands through her hair, clearing her throat, and sniffing sharply. "Listen, can we just, not talk about my dad ever again, please? I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. But nothing brings me more… just, skin crawling shame like carrying his name…"
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02/01/2020 02:13 PM
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[OWWP - Nostalgic]
"Mom have you seen my-" Poking her head into the war zone that was a bedroom, Crystal cut her off. "Whatever it is you're asking about, dear, no. I stopped coming in here when I decided I didn't want to see anything anymore. You're on your own on this one." Puffing her cheeks out in annoyance from her kneeling position on the floor next to her double bed, Stephanie threw back the purple (because of course they were) sheets to continue her search under the bed.
Yanking several boxes out with force, she dumped them out all over the floor, as Crystal moved along, shaking her head. Among the contents now strewn across her carpet were several 'locked' diaries (who was anyone kidding, those locks never kept anyone out) and a beat up note book.
Curiosity got the better of her.
She had a pretty good idea what would be in diaries.
'My dad sucks, Dean is an a**hole, Robin is cute' maybe even some 'Robin gets to know everything about me, but I don't even know his name. It's ok, I love him though' which, frankly, made her cringe just a bit, but the beat up note book was calling to her. As soon as she flipped it open, and saw written in her own looping handwriting.
'Robin's War Journal. Day One. I made it! I'm in! He called me Robin! Me! It's official!'
Everything inside her ran both hot, then cold in second. The immediate reaction was to snap the book shut. Fling it across the room. Burn it. Anything but to keep holding onto it. However, driven by a strange, almost morbid curiosity, she flicked through the pages again, finding the last page with anything written on it.
'Robin's War Journal. Day Seventy-One. Seventy-One! Three long weeks off duty-'
She couldn't read any further. She remembered the day clearly. She was fired. Again. Looking back now, it was perfectly reasonable. She was told to stay put, Batman had the situation handled. She didn't stay put, and she almost permanently blinded him. Robin for ten weeks, and wasn't even on duty for three of them? He was definitely only humoring her when he told her she was really Robin. Stephanie didn't even count herself as Robin. Looking at the 'War Journal' in her hands, she knew what she had to do.
Slowly pushing herself to her feet, tiptoeing around the minefield that was her bedroom floor now, whatever she was searching for long forgotten, she scooped up her bag heading for the front door as Crystal peered over the newspaper from the kitchen table. "Back later. Don't worry about my room, I'll fix it later, loveyoubye!" There was an odd nostalgic feeling about trying to be deliberately sneaky in the Batcave, after not having had to break into it for a few years, and being given permission to be there, to use things.
But in this case, she didn't want to be seen, or have to explain herself. Even leaving the Compact well away from the cave and making the entrance on foot was almost like being back in high school. Making the entry, she made a break for the console that housed the Batcomputer, and along with a purple sticky note stuck to the front, left the notebook there, before making her mad dash exit before being caught. In the same looping handwriting, written on the sticky note:
'Put this wherever you put my suits.'
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