Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jun 22, 2016 21:23:46 GMT -5
 Superman wasn't supposed to bleed. Damian tried to steady his shaking hands as he watched his biological father pummel the man who had adopted him. This was all Zsasz's fault, and the teen's cold gaze snapped to the murderer lying further down the alleyway. It didn't stay there for long. Clark was down. Bruce pulled the unconscious Kryptonian into a choke-hold. "Dad..." Damian said brokenly as he took a step forward. "Is this what you want, Damian?" Batman asked. His arm flexed around Clark's neck dangerously as one of his gloved hands reached for the downed alien's temples. Damian tensed as his eyes flickered from Bruce's to Superman's lax face. "I can snap his neck and end five years of fighting." Bruce suggested. Nightwing scoffed his disbelief. The sound didn't travel far in the pouring rain. "This is what you wanted?" Bruce pressed, tightening his hold on the weakened alien. "For me to cross the line and become a killer like Clark?"The son regarded his father for a moment. It wasn't what he wanted. He barely knew what he wanted. This wasn't something he could voice to Bruce Wayne, though. "So, I'm supposed to believe you'd really break his neck?" the young Nightwing asked. "Are you willing to kill me to save him?" Bruce pressed, putting more pressure on Clarke's skull. He didn't need to think. Damian reached for one of his Wing-Dings and flung the aerial blade straight at Bruce's face. "Without a second thought," he said, though that was obvious through his actions. Bruce had been bluffing. Damian hadn't.The rest of the fight was hazy. Something that had originally been about Zsasz killing Alfred had turned larger than the youngest Wayne could really understand. This was a family spat turned into an ideological battle on the colossal side when Clarke had shown up. Bruce had accused Superman of setting Zsasz on Alfred. Using Alfred's death to draw Batman out of the shadows was something that made so much sense Damian's stomach sunk. The Regime he'd joined wasn't about that...but sometimes he didn't even know who he was anymore. The only moments of clarity he got were when he was fighting, so that's what he did: fought. Until Bruce turned his own electrical weapon against him and an errant blow from Wonder Woman knocked him out of the fight. ... It had stopped raining. Damian didn't bother to open his eyes right away The concrete he was lying on was cold, hard, and wet. He could feel it soaking through his uniform. Damian laid in a puddle in an otherwise dry alleyway. The young man shuddered, his teeth clicking together involuntarily, until he shoved his tongue between them to silence it. Damian had been taught as a child to never show weakness. Even if he was certain his father was gone by now. He checked to see if anything was broken, moving independently along every part of his body, before coming to the conclusion that he was fine. Physically. The weight of his father's words pulled him down. For a moment Damian Wayne wished he'd never wake up. Then he opened his eyes and wasn't sure he was awake. It was unusual of them to have left him here, alone, in an alleyway. Diana would never, but then, Bruce had insulted her integrity... But he wasn't alone. |
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jun 23, 2016 0:42:10 GMT -5
The crocodile sized manhole was dark and abysmal. It stank of sewage in all its uninviting wonder. Nightstar stood there, looking down the hole Killer Croc retreated to and debated if she should follow him. The lack of light wasn't the issue; it was a lack of wanting.
Resigned to her decision not to act, she toed the manhole cover over and let it fall in with a teeth-gritting scraping sound. It clanked heavily into place, and she looked up from the ground.
The once passive gesture froze, as she stared out at the alleyway before her. A feeling of unease crawled up her spine and chilled her in a way the night air could not. Could this be the same alleyway she had just fought it? Her brow furrowed as she swept her gaze across the details before her.
There wasn't much distinguishable about an alleyway. The narrow, concrete darkness between two walls stretching out toward a dead-end fence, lined with dumpsters and the overflowing trash was standard fare, but she could swear that something wasn't right. She wrestled with the feeling, unsure if it was her paranoia acting up, or if there was really something wrong.
And if she was right... then why?
There was a groaning sound coming from behind her, and it sounded all too much like someone in pain. Immediately she turned to see.
A body lay on the ground, spotlighted by a nearby lamp. She dashed forward to inspect and got down to her knees beside the man.
There were a few peculiarities about him. One, he was masked, and armored like a vigilante but she could swear she's never seen his like and she knew Gotham's heroes.
Second, he was soaked but she couldn't see from what. It reminded her of one of those crazy lateral-thinking riddles that she would pour over as a girl. Riddle me this, how does a wet man miles away from water end up unconscious in an alleyway, with no rain?
Most importantly, he was alive, and she began to see signs of responsiveness. She leaned in closer, her concerned expression hovering over him.
“Hey,” she said, “can you hear me?” She swiped a hand slowly in front of his face, unable to tell from his domino mask if he was looking, and so watched his face carefully for any reaction.
“Are you here with me now?”
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jun 23, 2016 19:13:24 GMT -5
A voice. Nightwing went back to playing dead, stilling as someone moved to his side. It didn't sound like Diana, and when he opened his eyes again it didn't look like her either. Maybe it was a good thing he was pretending not to breathe, because she took his breath away in a moment he couldn't quite understand. This woman was young, with haunting green eyes he'd seen maybe once or twice before but couldn't place, and it was very likely that she was a part of the super-powered community.
If he didn't recognize her, she was probably resistance.
Damian tensed at the hand invading his personal space. It didn't touch him, but that didn't stop the young man from going too still at the perceived threat. She couldn't see where his eyes were looking behind the lenses of his mask, so they were on even footing, for awhile. Instinct, from years of harsh training, told him that he should take her down now. Dick's voice in his head, which sometimes served as his conscious, told him not to very adamantly. He didn't listen.
The man on the ground sat up sharply, a blade glinting in his hand, as he brought it towards the exposed flesh of her breast. He was targeting her heart precisely since her neck was armored. He had moved too fast. Black spots danced across his vision as the alleyway twisted about him like a live thing he was trying to wrestle to the ground. Damian kept his focus on the blade, glinting in the whine of the overhead lamp, but it was difficult to keep his gaze from following the elegant neckline of her costume. Especially downward.
"Who are you?" he demanded harshly as his lips drew back from his red-stained teeth. The movement made the cuts along his mouth sting but he'd endured worse. Damian needed to find out what this girl and her ilk had done. His attention was on her, but that didn't mean he also hadn't noticed the rest of the alleyway. It seemed less wet than he'd remembered. It was also empty. Was it even possible that Bruce's forces had overtaken Diana, Hal, and Wally? "What did you do to them?"
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jun 23, 2016 21:48:08 GMT -5
He wasn't responding, and so she concluded he was still unconscious. That didn't bode well. The next step was to put him in a recovery position and inspect his head for signs of bleeding or fracture. As she turned her eyes from his face down along the length of him, it stopped at the insignia on his chest. That's funny. It sort of reminded her of--
--there was sudden movement and the glint of metal. She saw it coming, but didn't have time to react respond in a move of her own. He was fast. Not as fast as a speedster, but still impressive enough to take note of. This man meant business, but what was to be expected of vigilantes?
She raised her hands in a show of complacence, and remained calm. Didn't stop her from frowning at the pointy knife aimed for her heart. Not messing around, was he? More like, he was paranoid, disoriented, and she was threatening. Nightstar could understand that. What she didn't understand, was what he meant by 'them'.
“Okay, slow down,” she urged, keeping her tone soft and non-confrontational. "I'm Nightstar," she answered his first inquiry, because that was the easy part. "I found you like this, injured and I assumed unconscious. I only wanted to help."
That kindness was currently being repaid with a threat, but she didn't point it out yet. "I think, right now, we're both confused. I was fighting Killer Croc just a moment ago, and I don't remember anyone else with us yet... here you are." So anyone else involved was just as much a mystery to her as it was, apparently, for him.
Her gut feeling had been right. Something wasn't right with this picture, and they didn't have the whole story. Hopefully they would have answers in due time, but one uncomfortable thing at a time. "Now, if you don't mind..."
One hand gestured toward her chest. "There's a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, and it would be a shame to damage mine." she quipped. Hopefully, he was a Princess Bride fan.
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jun 23, 2016 22:25:33 GMT -5
The hard set of the young man's jaw softened slightly as the woman introduced herself as Nightstar and explained what she'd been doing. He still didn't trust her, exactly, but he wanted to believe what she was saying. Damian had been taught to listen for lies, Bruce tried to prepare his Robins for everything, but it had been hard to pay attention to how she was saying it when the movement of her breathing made the knife glint from it's point above her heart. Such perfect symmetry of form was rare to see.
"Killer Croc is dead," Damian informed her sharply, forcing his gaze back to her face. A lot of Arkham's lot were even despite his father's attempt to save them. Confusion, and distrust, flickered across his face as she attempted to get him to back off with words. Then she quoted one of the silly movies both Dick and Father had made him watch. His mouth twitched, almost a smirk, and he moved the knife away from her. "But, as you wish," the quote was a whisper even more promising than the unsheathed knife still glinting in his hand.
"Nightwing," he introduced himself as he gestured the tip of his knife towards the insignia emblazoned across his chest and winging out onto his shoulders. "You didn't see Wonder Woman, Flash, or Yellow Lantern?" the young man interrogated seriously, leaning forward and lowering his voice as he asked the question. As though he was about to tell her a secret.
"Superman," Damian said the name with a mix of awe and guilt, "he was hurt. I need to find him," Nightwing added as he tried to scramble to his feet. He didn't quite make it, though, pulling up onto his knees and staggering as the alleyway swam around him again. One hand dropped to the puddle he'd been laying in as his other tightened around the knife like it was a lifeline.
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jun 24, 2016 19:20:26 GMT -5
Had he not prefaced the Princess Bride quote by insisting the villain she fought only moments ago was a goner, she may have reacting more positively to the reference. Rather, she stared at him in concern that he was either misinformed, or brain-damaged. How hard did he hit his head exactly?
Then, he introduced himself as Nightwing and her first thought was that he hit it substantially.
She blinked her eyes wide in disbelief when he announced it, and though her gaze may not have showed it the subtle tilt of her head up and down suggested she looked from his insignia to his face. That was what it reminded her of--her father's symbol!
It wasn't a comforting answer, because it had her question when her father had decided to give up the mantle, and why he hadn't so much as told her. Also, who was this stranger he had entrusted the title to? A stranger who couldn't even tell he was talking to his predecessor's daughter.
It was her turn to regard him with suspicion as all these thoughts raced through her mind. Mentioning heroes who, to her her knowledge, had no business in Gotham didn't make it any better. Then he was leaning in, and she remained still with her terse expression.
Superman, hurt? If he was, he wasn't the only one. As soon as he tried to stand, the man with the surprising moniker felt his injuries. Despite every misgiving burning in her, she couldn't watch him crumple in pain without offering her assistance. "Hey, careful!" she exclaimed, placing both her hands on his shoulders. She could feel that his soaked armour had gone cold.
"You're not going to be finding anyone in this state," she said, and began to pull his shoulders back to help right him. She took his arm and put it around her shoulder, while her other hand wrapped around his waist. She got to her feet, and brought him standing with her all too easily.
"I don't know what's going on, but if something's going down in Gotham there is one person who will know,"
Nightstar said, voice full of confidence and resolve. There would be medical supplies, and resources, to get to the bottom of all this.
"I'm taking you to Batman."
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jun 25, 2016 21:49:36 GMT -5
Nightwing flinched at her exclamation and the hands touching him in a moment of weakness before he tried to pull himself back into control. The young man stiffened, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a pain-distorted grimace, but he let her help him stand. She didn't seem to have any problem taking his weight, and he cataloged this information while he tried to figure out who she was.
Then she said she was taking him to Batman.
"No," Damian said sharply pulling to get free from her grip so he could stagger away to the wall of the alley. The man breathed heavily for a moment, centering himself, before he stepped forward to stand on shaking knees as if that proved he was alright.
He should have guessed that she was Resistance. Bruce must have left her here to deal with him. Damian couldn't think of a solid reason, exactly, just like he couldn't imagine his father managing to take on Wonder Woman, Flash, and Yellow Lantern. He had help, though, and some of that help was apparently as beautiful as they were delusional. Pity.
"I don't know what Father told you, or what games you're playing at, but I'm not going back," Nightwing told her sharply. |
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jun 26, 2016 12:13:40 GMT -5
He was pulling out of her grip, and Nightstar could have used her superior strength to hold him, but she didn't want to hurt him nor did she want to abuse her power. She let him go, for now, and watched him attempt to stand with a frown. He seemed to manage it, for now, but if he fell over again she would rethink letting him decide. He may have been trying to prove he was alright, but the woman wasn't convinced.
Hold on, did he just refer to Batman as his father?
She squared her shoulders and took an authoritative step forward, looking up at him with an intense expression. "The only 'game' I'm playing is trying to help your ungrateful ass," she began in a low, sharp tone.
"The fact that you're injured is compelling me to give you the benefit of a doubt, because otherwise I am not amused by this display of bravado and disrespect."
The implication that her family was keeping secrets behind her back burned her inside, and some of that was being taken out on him. "I don't know you, and I know most people, especially my family," she said, emphasising the word as she scrutinised him. "Your father told me nothing about having a son, and as secretive as Batman is, he is also my grandfather and I love him dearly."
Therefore, she felt rather entitled to knowing these things. "And you can't imagine how angry I am, at the idea that the Nightwing I know would have given you, a complete stranger to me, his name and insignia. How can you? You didn't even recognize me for all you know."
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jun 27, 2016 18:49:53 GMT -5
He wasn't taking her "kindness" terribly well. Damian's lips drew back from his teeth, his expression somewhere between a snarl and a grimace of pain, as he willed himself not to move as she took a step towards him. The youngest Wayne understood he couldn't fight her and hope to win in his condition but instinct, and years of training that could be considered abuse, told him to try anyway. His brain was already going through battle scenarios, and he was readying himself to attack then she dropped a bomb on him.
Batman was her grandfather? Damian stared at the woman blankly for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that his father could have a granddaughter that didn't look any younger than him. Then there was also the issue of where such a granddaughter could have come from. He was fairly certain that Mother hadn't been playing with his DNA like that, especially to create such bizarre eyes, but even if she had there was no way that creation would have been able to meet Father.
Then she mentioned that she knew another Nightwing. Damian stiffened, his eyes widening behind the mask, because she was talking about Dick Grayson as if he were still alive. He wasn't. That simply wasn't possible. So maybe it wasn't Richard she was talking about. Maybe she was talking about someone else that Father had recruited to his resistance, like this girl, that he'd given the name to. As far as he was aware there was no intelligence concerning another Nightwing, but this girl had never been mentioned either, so it was impossible to know for sure who Father hid with him in the shadows.
"I guess it shouldn't surprise me that Batman replaced him as quickly as he disowned me," Damian said bitterly. "Whatever my father told you, it's wrong. He's on the wrong side of this war, and that only ends one way," Nightwing fixed his masked gaze on Mar'i, but it was softer, almost pleading. "Let me go back. I can talk to Superman, and he can pardon you of your crimes. He trusts me. He'll listen. You shouldn't have to suffer for Batman's foolishness."
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jun 28, 2016 16:18:43 GMT -5
It was as though they were having completely different conversations. She stared at him in disbelief as he talked about replacements, wars, and crimes she apparently committed. Nightstar wasn't as solid with Superman as her father was, it was true, but she had a healthy amount of respect for the man given the icon. Whatever conflict could exist between Bruce and Clarke, it would need to be a very compelling argument to have her siding against her grandfather.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, incredulously. "Batman would never replace Nightwing. They had their differences, sure, and so do Superman and Batman but you're talking on a completely different scale. It's like you're living in a different reality than mine." When she said it, she didn't mean it, despite hitting the nail on the head.
"All I know right now is that you're injured, and I want to help you. If you don't want to go to Batman, can I at least take you to a safe house?" she suggested. She stepped forward even closer, putting a hand to his arm. "I can see you're in pain."
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jun 29, 2016 20:47:12 GMT -5
Damian couldn't decide if she was insane, naive, or incredibly oblivious. So he stared at her like she was an idiot. At least she had her looks to fall back on. "What, were you kept under a rock?" he asked equally incredulous. Or maybe even a convent. She seemed really intent on healing the sick and nonsense.
When she reached to grab him it took considerable effort on Nightwing's part not to flinch back. He kept still aside from his muscles tensing along his arm and across his shoulders as he stared intently at the point of contact. He grit his teeth before opening his mouth to speak. "Fine," he agreed with a nod. He was in pain.
Ever since he was a child, learning under the League of Assassins and the best mentors his mother could afford, Damian had learned to live with pain. This wasn't the worst he'd experienced, and he could have tried to scare her off before slinking back to the Regime to lick his wounds, but he didn't want to. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't.
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jul 1, 2016 21:47:00 GMT -5
Mar'i didn't have as much ambiguity in the need to be by his side. Despite the rude greeting that just bled through their conversation, crazy talk and all, he was injured. He needed help, and how could she ever abandon Nightwing? Her expression softened at the gritted consent, and she closed the gap between them to wrap her arm around his waist. The water stained her side and made it slightly uncomfortable, but otherwise she fit well next to him, in a way she couldn't quite explain.
"Think of it less as assistance, and more as an opportunity to put your arm around a beautiful woman," she said, and then she flashed a mischievous grin up at him. Whatever he wanted to think of it as, she acted as his support as they walked together from the dark of the alleyway toward the light of the street.
The more she could see of it, the more of a knot was formed in her stomach. The humour fell as she glanced left and right. Much like the alleyway, it looked all wrong. "This isn't the Bowery," she said. It was where she had been, but the street was completely unfamiliar to her at first glance. She needed a better view.
"Bear with me a moment. I got you," was her warning, as she floated them both off the ground toward the sky effortlessly. The altitude wasn't high enough to cause him breathing problems among his grievances, but enough to get a view of the area they were in. The streets below didn't speak much of her well-known Gotham, but something more telling appeared when she turned her gaze to the city skyline.
"Is that the statue of liberty?" The words flew out of her mouth and she could scarcely believe them. When did she end up in New York City?
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jul 6, 2016 19:30:39 GMT -5
"TT," Damian made his clicking noise as she moved closer and quipped about how he could misconstrue this as an opportunity to get closer to her. A smirk slid across his face but flickered back into a grimace as he walked with her to the end of the alleyway. He didn't like this: feeling as if he were a cripple, having to rely on other people, but it kind of helped that she seemed as confused as he did when the streets changed.
She voiced it before he did, and Damian glanced sidelong as her through the mask, as he tried to rationalize what was going on. He'd been out for awhile. It wasn't impossible that he'd been moved, but it seemed unlikely that his father's followers had been able to move him without him waking up. Unless the drugged him.
He didn't expect to leave the ground when they did. Damian had simply figured she was going to pull out GPS or something when she asked him for patience, but instead she was pulling him up into the sky. The young man stiffened, his grip on Mar'i tightening, and his heart beat skyrocketed. He tallied flying to the list of things he already knew about her as he squinted off in the direction she'd indicated.
The Statue of Liberty had her back to them, but there was no mistaking the feminine form holding the torch aloft. His eyes widened behind the mask and he inhaled sharply. "Why would they transport me here?" Damian asked, mostly rhetorically, because crazy girl seemed just as confused as to their location as he was.
"Put me down," Damian finally demanded. "There's no point in looking for Gotham safe houses here. I'll put in a call. I'm sure the Justice League had some point of contact down here before the split. I'll ask Diana if she knows of any."
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jul 8, 2016 16:49:18 GMT -5
Nightstar suspected that the answer was far more complicated than he was making it out to be. Unlike him, she wasn't unconscious. She knew how much time had passed between the familiar and unfamiliar. No one had moved her. It was like the space around her had changed while she remained the same, but that was crazy. Or was it? Confusion was all she knew for now, and all the possibilities she entertained disturbed her perhaps more-so than finding out she was in New York. What they really needed was a plan of action, and Nightwing was quicker to the draw there. It was her turn to say, "As you wish," before she descended. It was fast enough at first to lift their long locks from their faces, the spring air rushing past their faces, but the closer to the ground the slower they went quite opposite to gravity. It made for a feather-light landing. Letting go of him was no rush either. Only when she made sure that he was stable on the ground did she remove her arms from him. Her fingers twitched in want of reaching out and running through his wet hair. "You must be cold," she observed. "I hope you can get in contact with someone fast, so we can get you somewhere warm."
She had a quicker solution, but he seemed so unhappy with all her attempts to help she had the feeling he'd be averse to letting her run her warmed up fingers through his hair to dry. Mar'i wasn't sure even she should feel comfortable with such intimate interaction with a stranger, but she supposed it was the need to help--and not like she was ever shy about such things anyway. As a compromise, she gave him space as she put up a glowing hand between them, that radiated warmth like a fireplace. |
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jul 12, 2016 19:50:36 GMT -5
Their descent took forever. Damian tried to mask his impatience at how slowly she went about bringing him back to the street, they way they drifted down in such a controlled manner, like a feather. He took the time to take note of her exceptional control over her flight and certainly not the way she felt against him. Damian had never appreciated being picked up, despite how amusing Grayson had found it when he was a child, and- why was he thinking of Grayson?
When she released him he flinched away from her, moving a few steps out of reach with a scowl, as he took out his communicator. He fiddled with it for a few seconds. Nothing. There wasn't just no signal, it was saying that the people he was trying to reach didn't exist. He swore, a soft hiss, in Arabic. She was standing near him, radiating heat from a glowing hand, but he was becoming too frustrated with the technology to really consider what she could do and what his next move would be.
The plastic crunched in his grip as Damian felt his anger rise to the surface.
"What did you do!?" he demanded, turning on Mar'i, because she was the only one around for him to ask questions. His voice had taken a dangerous edge with the sort of impatience that could turn to shouting quickly. Or another knife at her perfect breast. "The Watchtower," he explained, because she was stupid, "It's not responding. Not like it's down. Like it's gone."
Had his father managed to blow the Watchtower out of the sky? Had this girl helped him?
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