14866/Birb and Woof

Birb and Woof
Date of Scene:	07 May 2023
Location:	Robbinsville - Bleake Island
Synopsis:	Silverdane and Oriole meet in a Gotham Alley.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Belinda Gutierrez

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It was supposed to be a normal patrol on a late Sunday, after being doused with rain (because it's Gotham), and the criminal element of the city was active after sleeping in thanks to the rainy morning.

    Oriole, because of course they're bird-themed names in Gotham, has a gray cape and orange highlights to her armoring, hooded and be-domino'd, had been working on collecting a purse snatcher, a pick pocket, a mugging, and a car thief on a self-appointed scavenger hunt in the night when she stumbled across some gangland activity that was set up as a Bat Trap. Heavily armed gang members trading a packet of drugs back in forth in various alleyways in order to attract the attention of someone on patrol... and though she didn't exactly fall for it, the trap had to be sprung.

    Which is how there ended up being reports of heavy gunfire, the smell of small arms fire in the air, and the whiff of blood as she leads them through back alleys in Gotham's Robbinsville district, pincering herself between two old, joined houses, and letting the goons think they've got the drop on her as seven gang members begin to advance.

    Oh no, what is a little bird to do?

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Ever since learning that the Batman was real (like, really real!), Belinda has been more careful about coming to Gotham to act out. New York has plenty of crime of its own, after all; no need to poach! And if there is anything Silverdane can respect, it is the sanctity of another's chosen hunting grounds. Save in very, very special circumstances:

The need to run. To hunt in unfamiliar terrain. And while the first inclination was to simpoly run around Gotham Park and enjoy what little island of greenery ther ewas in the urban landscape, the urge to pracitce tracking skills was undeniable.

Especially after the sudden, acrid scent of gunpowder from some unassuming gang-banger. Bitter. Sharp. Cordite, unfired. Like a jagged needle to the brain.

Tracking the young man was simple; groaning inwardly as he flashed his 'gang signs' had Belinda rolling her eyes, and... sadly, eventually, losing focus. Food smells. Big Belly Burger, in Gotham? Tempting!

And then that goes out the window-- gunshots. Gun *fire*. Ears prickle as she quivers, thoughts of a late-night snack utterly forgotten.

Robbinsville should have been a calm place torun, to jog, to enjoy the scenery of better, long-ago days. Now, it will have to bear witness to another rampant outbreak of modern-day misery...

...And violence. Hunger. Glitter-eyed determination. Stalk the stalkers. Ambush ambushers.

And teach why traps can be so inherently dangerous, as they work both ways!

The first sound of something wrong-- the blaze of indiscrimant automatic weapons accompanied by the sudden high-pitched scream of utter terror. And the throaty animal howl of nothing of any city in the world!

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "-- oh shhh--" comes a whisper from the Oriole as she lets those blue optics go wide.

    This means Danger, and if it's howling, and then the scream of terror, that means that something's going down in Gotham that might not be healthy. She had to end this.

    Fast.

    The BatKid dashes forward, baseball-sliding between a pair of gangers who had chosen to see what hat attacked their companion, her staff extending to robe them of their footing, accompanied by painful blows to their solar plexuses, plexi? -- with a distorted, snarled 'stay *down*' as she smoothly comes back up to her feet and regards -- ...

    "... a werewolf?" she breathes out, and then turns to try and sweep another ganger who was going to try and whip her in the back of her head!

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
A werewolf. Even in a world of mutant creatures and mad science and the mix of animal-men and man-animals, there are some things that just sketch the leap of mind from 'A' to 'Z' and nothing else.

...that and the break of cloud cover above, the glitter of the nearly full moon above glaring coldly down, might lend one's imagination a certain gravitas to the mythical Surely, no such things as werewolves? Or unicorns. Faeries. Batpeople.

Clouds scuttle across the sky, bleak and dreary as monlight exchanges once more for the sluggish step of neon, garbage bin fires, the flicker of distant headlights. And the gutteral snarl and crack of bullets rebounding from the pavement and the acrid stench of terror. Two legends, modern and mythical-- no ganger born is ready for this!

Lazily slapping one of the nearest hoods to the ground, the werewolf (She? She.) steps over him, long arms quick as she snaps out, grasping a second hoodlum by his jacket.

The wolfwoman snarls, and ivory fangs glitter wetly, disconcertingly *bright* as she lifts him bodily off his feet!

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Well, the wolf appears to be on her side for the moment. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

    Besides, not the weirdest thing she's found in an alleyway. The Gotham hero determines that the ganger is still alive.. mostly. For the moment. This is going to make a mess of her nightly reports.

    She skids, turning and putting herself between the werewolf and one of the gangers, who has decided that throwing down his gun and *running* is the correct course of action, she covers his escape, slinging a couple of smoke bombs. The smoke is burning to most olfactory senses. She can imagine what it might feel like to a sensitive nose!

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The result of smoke? Expected-- gunshots, knife stabbings, even a kick to the stomach or two! (Ticklish) But biting smoke?

Smoke pellets burst with wild grey streams, thick volume scattering on the air, startling the werewolf. The clatter of metal as she drops her ganger (who drops his knife), and gibbering madly for police and dogcatchers and all the saints as...

The sneezing begins. A chuff, a snort, a *blast* of air.

Sneezing fit, as the wolf creatures covers her muzzle, her nose, one sneeze following a second, a third-- a torrent in swift array!

"...and doon cumb be'k!" the muffled words groan from the clamped muzzle. Followed by another onslaught of rapid-fire, nonstop sneezing!

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    And as the gangers clear out -- Oriole can track them down later -- she turns to the wolf, who has started sneezing. And talking, and she looks this way and that before she breathes out, and with an uttered word and a wave of her hand, the smoke clears, cast out to the street as a magic wind ruffles through Silverdane's fur, and then the small Gotham hero crosses her arms and looks up to the wolf in question.

    "I'd like an explaination. If you have time."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The wolf's own domino mask does nothing to hide her sheepish expression (as if it could hide anything), though she glances sourly as she coughs, biting back a last bit of quivering response to the smoke.

"..was in area?" she suggests gruffly, ears twitching. She sneezes again, one last time with gusto, exhaling heavily as she rubs her nose. "...was in area. Heard shots. Smelled blood. So, came." She pauses for a moment, grimacing as she reaches to her jaw; fangs bared as it hangs subtly, loosely... Dislocated, as she pushes it back into place with a wincing *crunch* of sound.

"...am sorry," she adds, deep voice touched with unmistakable female lightness. "Did not mean to--" She pauses, tilting her head. "...you are very short for Batman."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Oriole's nose wrinkles a little at the CRUNCH of a relocated jaw. She knew that pain well. And at the comment that she is very short for Batman...

    She smiles. There's a good amount of kindness behind the smile.

    "That would be because I am *not* Batman, but I do work with him." she explains, and she gives a nod.

    "I'm Oriole, what's your name?" she inquires.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Her headtilt comes again, followed by a quiver of lips as she nods. Struggling not to grin sheepishly. Ahem!

"Silverdane," she adds, voice much clearer with correctly applied jaw. She rubs her cheek with care, grumbling to herself quietly. "Am new in Gotham--" She pauses, considering, chuffing anew with wry bemusement. "...mostly new. Am not of around here. Come to... practice hunting. Skills." She gestures, taking in the landscape beyond the city. "..smells are different in city. Different than the forest, the desert." She considers, nostrils quivering as she drinks in the night air. "..is clearer here. Still smelly-- but clearer. Not so many cars."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That would be our robust public transportation system." Oriole offers as a joke, and she tilts her head to the side a moment, looking to the entrance of the alleyway.

    "There's police incoming; probably for the best if they don't see a werewolf right?" she asks, and she brings her grapple up.

    "Why don't we hit the rooftop. Probably better view up there anyway?" she offers, and then just fires off her grapple with a poomf! sound, and is dragged up, cape fluttering behind her.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane's answer is cut short by the handheld marvel spearing away into the night. Quirked surprise heralds dogged determination to follow!

....It takes more than a moment for Silverdane to follow Oriole to the top of the structure. Several moments. Most of them spent climbing and grumbling and glaring toothy daggers at fire-ladder rungs broken in more than a few places!

The red-and-blue of police lights enter the alleyway just as the werewolf heaves herself over the side of the building, a few crumbling pebbles of concrete pinging off the fire escape's metal frame and clattering to the ground below. She draws in a long breath of air, exhaling with a softer, groaning rush.

"...that was new," she admits, tongue lolling comically as she catches quick breath. "Do this all the time, you do?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Part of working in Gotham." comes the answer from the young woman in the hood and cape, who has taken up a seat on a gable, astride it like a horse as she regards the wolf who's followed her up here.

    "You get to know the city in three dimensions pretty well, in fact. Where the best places are to hide in the dark. When not to swing in front of one of the trains because it'll throw off your swing and you'll splat against an office building." she states with a small smile, giving a shrug of her shoulders.

    "So, are you always a giant wolf-person when you run around Gotham, or was this my lucky day?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The wolf girl makes a show of stretching gingerly, settling to her haunches with slow care-- dragging every movement out a little more as her thoughts run a mile a minute. "...no," she finally answer, bowing her head as she curls in, looking for all the world like a great brooding stone gargoyle. Far less stone, and far more alive.

Clouds clear again in the bleak above; stubborn moonlight determined in its never-ending battle to illuminate the city below. Though it has seen better days, the ragged remnants stand in a simple blue leotard stretched across her frame; she moves absently, adjusting as she straightens the lycra material with a gesture. And those moments gone, hesitation for long as she politely dares.

"Not normally," she admits, rumbling with quiet displeasure. "Too scary for people if do so. Not.... right, to frighten them. Others. People." She glances, grinning with sudden, toothy amusement. "Most times," she amends, gesturing to the alley below. "Some need to be scared. But promise never to bite. Or chew." She wrinkles her nose, grimacing. "Ick!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That's good to know. As a note, I taste terrible." she grins, and Oriole looks out over the city, again, letting the wolf get comfortable.

    "You know, there's places you can get an outfit that'll 'grow' with you. I'm sure transformations must be heck on the clothing bills." she states, like she wasn't wearing a couple hundred thousand dollars worth of tech on her at the moment.

    "A lot of Gotham crimefighters rely on fear. That's our biggest advantage over the people we just fought... they're afraid. They're going to make mistakes.

    The quartet that the duo had knocked out in the alleyway are led out by the police. One is loaded into an ambulence bound for Gotham General.

    "Some people deserve to be scared. Because they're used to doing the scaring. I know a lot of people who use fear."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane stretches out alongside, laying down profile to keep her larger bulk from silhouetting against the night sky. She watches the ambulance personnel work with a quiet grimace, features cut in stone before she closes her eyes with a chuff, a rumbling sigh. "..am working on it," she explains carefully about the costume, a heartbeat stretching out as she scents, nostrils quivering. "Scaring thieves... Not a wealth-making task," she remarks, wry mirth in her voice. Against her better judgement, she peeks over again, glancing down.

Below, the ambulance settles its cargo, either crewman clambering in. Lights ignite, without sound; Silverdane relaxes with a sigh of soft relief, practically sagging down into the rooftop as they drive off.

"Good," she murmurs. "Is not badly hurt." She pauses, glancing with a grimace. "People are fragile, too. Must never forget."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Yeah, the pay for crime is poor but the pay for fighting it's even worse! And don't get me started on the *dental*." the Batkid remarks, though hers is well taken care of all around.

    "I would have made sure they weren't hurt." she replies gently to Silverdane, and she breathes out.

    "Look, I don't ordinarily plug other groups, but y'know... there's this group. I think they're in New York now. I know a couple people who can connect you with them if you're the supernaturally sort and not like, mutanty sort. But I'm sure they'd help anyway..."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The werewolf nods, biting her lip until the ambulance is out of earshot, out of sight, safely away. Yet the sound Silverdane emits after is startling, ridiculous-- the great beast *giggles* at the suggestion, nodding as he exhales again, stirring the dust and grime on the roof's ledge. "..Might already know them?" she counters slyly, domino masked eyes bright above her grin. Non-toothy! She twists and pulls herself to seated position, legs curled beneath her as she rumbles. "The Dark," she hazards, bending her head. "They do supernaturally things. Glitter-sparkle demonbooks. Witches and wizards. Evil rabbits."

She glances back over, every inch of her suddenly, suspiciously still. "...could help too! Batwolf? Awoo?" She grins cheekily, curving back to let a soft cry arch up. "Can call when need help with Clownboy and Joy Buzzer Man!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... you know it wouldn't surprise me if Honey Badger is involved with evil rabbits and glittery spellbooks." Oriole admits, using codenames since hey, they're in costume.

    "Not even I'm permitted to fight Clownboy and Joybuzzer Man. That's just bad news all around." she states to the wolf as she looks over, leaning forward and stretching out her back. It doesn't pop. She misses popping.

    "Yeah. The League Dark. I used... to work with them." Oriole's voice sounds profoundly sorrowful, and she takes a deep breath.

    "BatWolf. Hrm. You'd have to ask The Batman about that one in person, but I have the feeling he would be very leery. You have to train very hard to work in Gotham."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane grins briefly, but nods in even return. "Did not think he was even real," she admits, leaning back onto her arms again, gazing up at the sodden sky. She sighs as cloud-cover creeps relentlessly back into place, once against sheathing the moon in its morose shadowing. "Still have much training to do," she murmurs, clinsg her eyes. Warm breath, sharp breath. Exhale with ginger shiver.

"Gotham is not my territory," she says gently, nodding once. "Visit, help when... am needed. Might be needed. But not regularly. That would be rude, and--"

She glances aside, eyes scrunching up. "...he has Batcave Fortress on Moon, yes? Is really Dracula?"

She looks away, quivering as she bites her lip again. "Should not ask, but--!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Absolutely. Batcave Fortress on the moon. Not Dracula. *Scarier* than Dracula. When Dracula takes naps during the day he has daymares about The Batman." Oriole gives a grin.

    "And you may have a lot of training to do, but your heart's in the right place. You recognize that the gang members we were fighting tonight aren't as strong as you are." she gives a small, sad smile, and toys a moment with her hand "There's some who are still learning that." she murmurs quietly, and then breathes out in a huff.

    "DO you have a phone, or communicator of some sort?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane giggles again at the affirmation-- Batcave on the moon! --and sighs at the question as she shakes her head. "Still working on it," she grumbles, drawing her knees to her torso, hugging herself in tight as she gazes forlornly at the sky. She is quiet for a time, then continues. "...if needed, can reach me through the League Dark peoples." She tucks her head back down, a rumbling growl emerging from her stomach. "Will have cell phone, one day. But not... yet. Cannot afford."

She looks up, shrugging helplessly. "Do not have much stuff." She grins anew, rallying with a shiver of force. "But... belt? Carries things-- very helpful!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... do you want a phone and a belt?" Oriole asks, her optics turning over to Silverdane as her eyebrows rise above her domino.

    "Generally, I *don't* offer. That's not my place. Usually I just tell people to stay away from heroing because it's hard, and it's dangerous, and I've been at it for half a decade and it still throws me for loops every once in a while. It will break your heart. A lot." she states, and then she rubs the back of her head, and she pulls down her hood. She's got a short, uneven crop of kinky hair. The top is carefully braided in corn rows to keep it neat, and she tilts her head back a moment, letting the air of her city caress her scalp.

    "When I started out, I was pretty broke. I got real lucky. Given my current family, I still am." she states, "... and awful hard to alert the Bats that you're running in our city without a phone. Some of us aren't as..." she struggles a moment to find the word "... patient as I am."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silver glance aside, a subtle tension in her frame. She bite sher lip, looking away; muscle practically whispers of the torn decision running through her thoughts, and the urge to /want/--

"..if Batman agrees," she finally manages, tail sagging down to the rooftop as she nods to herself. "I should apologize to him. Mea culpa, no bueno." Absent thoughts, words-- subtle habit, of less careful times and thoughtless responses. "I shall get him a steak. Does he like steak? Am sure I could--"

She cuts herself short, snorting as she exhales with a forced expression. "Should not get expensive things," she remarks cautiously. "Phone would be good, even if only to contact when in Gotham. And belt..." She sighs enviously, melty. "Pockets. Pockets are the things of kings and queens and miracles!" She looks over, leaning close, offering her level best smile.

"... Please and gracias?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I wouldn't worry about giving Batman a steak. He wants for little materially." Oriole gives a smile over to Silver, and then she reaches back to pull her hood back up.

    "Pockets are pretty handy, yeah." she commenets, and then rolls her shoulder a moment as she hops to her feet, skidding a little on the wet roof, and she gives a small smile to Silverdane.

    "I'll see what I can do. Where's a good drop-off point for you? I know where some of the League Dark hang out."

    Well, she wasn't about to leave it at Canelo's. Robbie would PROBABLY frown at being outed like that.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane grimaces. Dropoff points-- she sighs as yet ANOTHER thing that should be obvious, surprises her!

"The..." She debates internally, sighing as she yields. "...Candle, Booke, Belle. Leave for Silver; can find packages there--" She suddenly pauses, ears perking upright. Realizing what they are discussing!

"I..." she begins, cutting herself off with a suspiciously canine whimpering sound. Tuck head. Do not cry in front of Batpeoples!

"They get delivery of strange things all the time," she continues carefuly, quietly. "And-- mystic shoppe. What is one more box?" She shrugs carefully, absently... Appearing. Because traitorous tail makes itself known, whipsaw wagging at a mile a minute!

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I'll see if I can meet Honey Badger, or one of my other contacts. I'm... not allowed near any of the official points for them." Oriole states, grimacing.

    "I can ask one of them to drop it off for Silver." she explains quietly as she sits back down on the roof, though she looks at the tail wagging.

    "You going to be all right there, Silverdane?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"Yes," Silverdane answers carefully, totally not sniffling. Much. Smoke bombs aftereffects, yes. "Just need a moment to recover," she adds, straightening upright as she chuffs, braces, nods.... Leans in, arm extending for a firm, quickl hug!

The moment extends for a few seconds, trailing off as she bows her head, ears canting back as she nods. "I am very grateful," she says, voice rough, soft. "I understand that you do not hafve to do this.... And Batman would be all in his rights not to allow. Tresspassing, after all." She chuckles, giggles, sniff-- darn it! "I will continue training, and try to become better." She reaches up, tapping her muzzle. "Am training to smell things. Like canine police unit. Track by scent! No drugs or bombs or guns hide from me!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Oriole spots the incoming hug, and her optics go wide, the aperature brightening a moment as her heart drops in her chest and she side-steps the arm.

    "Careful. Our armors are electrified." she states with warning, holding up a hand cautiously. "I don't want you to get hurt by surprise." she explains, her voice more gently, and she gives a small smile, rubbing the back of her head.

    Through her hood.

    "Gotham is His city, but as long as people aren't making trouble they're generally allowed to visit. I just happen to be the one who tends to deal with... the weirder stuff." she states a small smile, looking up to the lupine heroine.

    "Ah, so the Nose Knows." she gives a smile. "Must be very useful!"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane takes the caution in stride, nodding evenly as she brings her arm back with care. "Except for you," she answers in explanation, head tilting in curious wonder. "I cannot...." She pauses, gestures, taking Oriole in with a helpless motion. "You do not have scent," she says, words failing her as she struggles , hunts for the proper phrasing. Rumbling, she leans back on her haunches, considering with studied care.

"All things that live have scent," she says, "And many that do not, because people, animals, creatures interact with them, mark them, knowing or no. But you do not have this thing, this scent. Like ghost, or phantasma."

She giggles again, head tilting as she considers. "So, either ghost-- or el Bat has found way around nose knows!" She nods to herself, pleased with her own thoughts. "Is good. No bloodhound can find you, hunt you easily. Is true for all Batpeoples, surely?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It is an effect of The Bat. It should be 'El Murcielago', shouldn't it?" Oriole considers, though she does pause, raises her armor up, and sniffs.

    "Usually I do have a smell. New quality?" she asks no one in particular, and she looks to Belinda.

    "Now I'm curious, how good is your nose?" she questions, "Can it tell the difference between two people wearing the same perfume? Different ingredients in a chicken nugget?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane grins, dropping a quick wink. "Wisdom of Bat?" she suggests, nodding to herself gravely. "Ah, well-- can track bullets by scent," she explains with delight, smile warm. "Cook's apron-- can tell what he cooked, sometimes how long ago. Sometimes can tell metals apart. Working on drug and chemical scents." She chuffs softly, shaking her head out as she casts her gaze back to the sky. "Working on getting better," she adds, shaking her fist in a silent, solemn vow. "All things take practice, time, experience. So-- sometimes come to Gotham. 'Working experience', when time allows."

She giggles, eyes sparkling. "Maybe not nugget. But sandwich, hamburger, such things. Very sharp!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well, with your sharp nose, maybe we'll find times to work together. Until then, /do/ give my regards to the League Dark since --" she pauses, and she tilts her head back, "... apparently I'm needed on the other side of the island." she gives a smile to Silverdane.

    "Be safe. Get yourself home."