16241/Hanging around

Hanging around
Date of Scene:	02 November 2023
Location:	Gotham's darkened nooks and alleys
Synopsis:	Closing out old scene
Cast of Characters:	Harper Row, Damian Wayne, Phoebe Beacon

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Harper Row has posed:
Someone is having a disgruntled night.

If one happened to be on patrol, or taking the air for instance, they'd probably hear a bunch of grunting, groaning and generally belly-aching. It's a real buffet of sounds of disappointment. Sighing, whining, cursing all playfully bouncing off the accoustics of the space between two old proud brownstone-like apartments.

If one was to approach and get eyes on the situation, they'd see Gotham vigilante Bluebird hanging upside down from an old black fire escape.

Hanging from her hook-boots, jacket folded on the fire escape nearby, and bring forth an assortment of throwable weapons from her belt to test out on the near-silent whine of a trio of her drones made to hover further down the alley at slowly drifting flight patterns.

Badly drawn caricatures of Killer Croc, Scarecrow and Bane have been affixed to little struts of the drones.

"Dewie...you're deviating from your pattern." Bluebird's words are tight from tense throat, and the fact she's inverted, and the fact that she hasn't hit one of them square on yet. "Little bastards..."

Another throw of a 'rang of some sort goes spiraling off into the darkness where she's MacGuyver'd a fourth drone to play ~pickup~ on her throws. "Damnit!"

Damian Wayne has posed:
It was Rook's night for a patrol. As the recently renamed Robin made his way across the rooftops, he was making sure to parkour it up and to make the best of the lonely journey by adding some additional training to keep him sharp.

He was just passing by a pair of buildings seperated by an alley when...

'Dammit!'

Sliding to a stop as he hits the other rooftop, gravel kicking up underneath his boots. Making his way back over to the edge of the roof, he peers down - and comes across the comical sight of an upside down Bluebird and her drones. A glance at the drawings and the 'rangs on the ground and he starts to get an idea of what she's up to.

He should have probably told her he was there - but instead, he sets on a course. Making his way down a rappel line, he slowly, methodically gets closer and closer to where Bluebird is. And when he gets close enough that he's not in her personal space - but not actually in said space, he speaks.

"I assume that Oracle did not give you an instruction manual?"

Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird's follow up with a wicked looking throwable W bedecked with curiously placed LEDs and holes punched through the material, leaves her hand as that voice is injected into the situation. It's just the perfect spice to add into her already zesty evening of salty attitude that her weapon surges off with a shriek like someone stepped on a Jim Henson Muppet.

Bluebird's body arches in surprise, making her spine trying to take the shape of a question mark to angle around for the source. "Wuzzat?!"

She nearly unhooks a boot from its perch in her goal to get a bead on Rook, near flailing herself into a chiropractic situation or giving herself completely up to gravity. Thankfully, her utility belt and hodgepodge of testable gear on her forearms doesn't go anywhere.

Harper's voice grates, "These are ~mine~. They're b-" She almost says they're better, but there's a pavlovian kick in the head when someone has to admit someone else's kungfu is better. "Manuals are for muggles." she says with a bit snark and juts out her jaw. "I...didn't think anyone would be around these parts for ~stuff~."

Damian Wayne has posed:
Reaching up to cover one ear against the sound of the shriek, Rook winces as he shakes his head to get over it before dropping onto the ground and snags one of the weapons she's thrown.

"We're you trying to practice throwing upside down on purpose, or is your aim always this bad?" he asks her as he looks at the various targets she had set up.

"Killer Croc would be feasting on your thigh meat at this point." Well, now she knows which one he is, now.

But he is peering back up at Bluebird and he frowns. Because one statement did set in his craw. "Gotham is my place for all ~stuff~." he points out to her. But, he softens slightly. "Do you want help?" he asks her finally. "You could see one of my birdarangs, they seem to have a similar design. And... the noisemaker is interesting."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    <<There's ALWAYS people around for stuff. Also, I heard a scream? Or demonic entity? Dying bathroom rug made into a puppet?>> comes Phoebe's voice over the comms, as another figure peers down from the top of the alleyway. The rounder blue lenses of her Balm mask rather than her Oriole domino show. <<Please tell me it was an entity. I'm bored and it's not a Bat night.>>

Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird's bottom lip, well...upside down spatially, protrudes further. A narrowing of the eyes isn't possible beneath her mask but it's going on. "Can't it be both?" she says sarcastically, apparently self-burning is a thing tonight.

Her body twists and she angles another way to spot the second guest to haunt the alley. She recognizes both allies now, though she's still salty and defensive. "Nothin spooky, just lame." she comments and starts a-swinging with some momentum to angle her back up so she can then haul herself up by her forearms rather than her hook-boots. The sound of the fire escape giving some squeaks and groans is a kind of peanut gallery for Bluebird's target practice score as well. She grates, "I dunno if you can help. Do you have a cheat code for flinging this aerody-dumbic crap around? Some make some wicked sounds but like you said...Croc would probably sayin something about something tasting like chicken at this point. I haven't even made Dewie, Stewie and Louie do anything ~really~ evasive yet."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Balm. No mages here. Just some tech and target paractice." Rook offers, raising a hand to the mage in greetings. Though his attention returns to Harper to consider her.

"What do you want to learn?" he drops a birdarang into his hand and flings it. It strikes Croc between the eyes. "I know crocodile tastes like salted chicken." comes the dry comment. "I'm willing to help you adjust your arm and hand to throw better. It really is all in the wrist, as my teacher taught me."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Pity." Balm states as she swings herself down into the alleyway, bouncing off a wall artfully and nearly crashing into a dumpster, but catching herself on the bottom of the fire escape with a soft 'hrk!' of effort. "Always can use more good mages in alleyways. Lucky you two." she gives a small grin as she arches her back and stretches her arms out.

    "And don't feel too bad if you're not picking it up right away. I still haven't gotten the hang of the long throw ones, and I've been training with Red Robin for years." she gives a grin.

    "I usually stick to throwing daggers."

Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird's mouth goes through some permutations like she's letting a strange candy slowly dissolve in her mouth. She's digesting this offer after swallowing down some choice comments. "I dunno, if Batwoman learns I'm missing this badly...I dunno if there's a better, or more...~patient~ teacher for someone like me. But I'm willing to give it a shot." she huffs.

"You've tasted croc have ya?" she says with an faux innocent question, before brushing herself off of imaginary dust, but quite a bit of condensation from the underside of the fire escape. Gonna be a long shower later tonight. "I'd like to stick to my railgun, but apparently...I need to expand my abilities to account for dynamic situations. Alligators, turtles, thugs or ghosts. Though I guess less of the latter after 'Ween. Hey Balmy." she says with more familiarity. "Well, have a look at my toys. I'm willing to share."

Bluebird dumps an array of throwables. A lot of MacGuyvering of some of them, wacky and wild, impractical and not. "Okay drones...go be...erratic." She sets the drones off on wild ping-ponging trajectories that have them, occasionally, clip the wall in exuberance. But, there is a ~pattern~.

Damian Wayne has posed:
Going to retreive the birdarang, Damian is considering. "Batwoman's training you, huh." He chews on his lip at that. Does he want to step on on the redhead's cape? Do frogs bump their asses when they jump?

When she turns the Croc joke sexual, Bluebird can't see the roll of his eyes beneath his domino mask. "If that's the best you got, I can find somewhere else to be."

But now that he is looking over the throwables as she lays them out for observation, his lips curl in a smirk as he picks up a familiar looking shape. Balancing the device on his hand. "This looks like a first gen batarang. No wonder it's not flying right, did you pull it out of something, or find it on the ground?"

He drops out a fresh birdarang from his utility and brings it over to offer to Bluebird. "I do have throwing knives as well, but you know who usually frowns at that..." he comments to Balm, "...and while I know you or I would be able to aim to be non-lethal." His hand waggles as he gestures over to Bluebird.

And his attention returns to her. "Aim for Bane, will you?" His attention is on her, however, to see what she does with her hand.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I should think the issue is more 'Croc tasting You'--" Phoebe makes a face. She may or may not have also faced Killer Croc and may or may not have caught the mood of the joke.

    "And ghosts know no season, just so happens that the veil is particularly thin around this time of year. And also at this collapsed meat packing plant up the river. And a couple other places around the city. If you wanna Ghost Tour I can totally hook you up. I know a couple of them."

    And on the subject of training with others;

    "I can't imagine Batwoman being too jealous. Batman has done training with a lot of us. I started under Red Robin in the Outsiders, and did training with Badger and X23." she explains, and goes a little more dour "We all have different skills. It's good to be able to mentor or be mentored by a bunch of people to try and fill in our weak spots." she adds.

Harper Row has posed:
"The night is young." Bluebird purrs without the pizzazz of someone truly slinky or catburglary they all probably know.

"Let's just say not everything here came from an official Armory or velvet lined secret compartment. I have a tickle-trunk of lost and founds. Waste not, want not, or something." she murmers.

Harper turns the better quality 'Rang in her hands, letting her finger tips slide over the dimensions like it had secret coded message for where a National Treasure was hidden. The grunt she makes is approving sort of noise. Like a kid being allowed to consider that new Transformers toy that they can borrow for a minute tops.

Feeling confident and horizontally upright, she hunches her shoulders and sights on the crazy swaying of Drone-Bane. She pinches the birdarang tightly. Too tightly. and her shoulder moves to prepare to heave-ho the the thing with more force than necessary. "Lethal...non-lethal, I'm the gal with the electric gun." The shrug doesn't help her aim, but she gets ~closer~ to hitting the drone. It's still a miss though. She turns around. "Factory defect? I think we need a second opinion..." She gestures to Phoebe to step up and throw fire.