17144/Robin Hotline

Robin Hotline
Date of Scene:	09 February 2024
Location:	Alley
Synopsis:	Flatline seeks out the closest thing to a heroic friend to... dump something that needs a hero on his lap.
Cast of Characters:	Flatline, Damian Wayne

---

Flatline has posed:
    Flatline is sometimes less than subtle when she is in a rush. At least she played by the rules this time. No one dead. No one who didn't deserve it getting beat up --

    There was graffiti thoguh. A happy little robin, surrounded by happy little flowers -- and cartoonish skulls that match the one she applies to her face, and a bunch of numbers and cyrillic letters. Every third one counts.

    And leads to a back alley in Gotham City, where Flatline is hiding out. She's wearing a black facemask over the bottom of her face, her black hoodie, and black jeans, shredded, with black leggings beneath it. She has a bg of stuff that's not her normal backpack. Her face is lit up by her phone, and she seems to be scrolling through different images.

    Her shoulders are tight, and her eyes are somewhat glassy.

Damian Wayne has posed:
"If you expect me to just walk into an alley because you asked, maybe you should change your name to Punchline." comes the voice from above. Up on the rooftops, Robin is in his brighter colored togs as he folds his arms across his chest.

There's a small smirk that plays on the corner of his lips as looks down at the girl. "Have you suddenly decided to become shy?" he asks her curiously, a tilt of his head to one side.

But, more specifically. "So, let's get to the point. What do you want, Flatline?" he asks, foot tapping on the edge of the rooftop, scraping some of the gravel as he considers the young woman. "And if it's to ask me out, I'm not interested."

Flatline has posed:
    "/Great/ because I definitely could not ever date anyone like a goody two-shoes Robin." Flatline comments. and she tilts her head up as she looks up at Damian.

    "Look. I came across some stuff. I wrote up a bunch of what I could recall. I have someone else's gear. They're... it's... not my bag. It is so beyond anything I'm good at, and I'm not a hero." Flatline states as she draws up to her feet.

    "And I am *tired as shit* at losing sleep over this stuff."

    She jumps up, and swings herself up onto the first level fire escape, and she looks up at Robin. She is tense.

    Flatline has never been tense in their previous encounters. "I have no one else to turn to."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Yes. I'm so very goody two-shoes." comes Robin's flat response as Flatline makes her way up. "So did you ask me here to fight or for something else, because your behavior at the moment and your artwork are saying two seperate things."

He's not letting his guard down as she approaches, a small step back, mental preparedness and acuity for anything that she may be preparing to throw at him. "Someone else's gear? Notes?" A frown.

And he's not concerned. He's so not. She's a pain in the ass.

"So, here I am. I could offer to show you to a nice quiet room we can talk at." At police headquarters, of course.

He doesn't care. Really.

Flatline has posed:
    "Mama always warned me to not go to a second location when hanging out with a guy." Flatline states dryly, her eyes narrowing. "And fuck you, I'm coming to you in good faith because this isn't my thing." She holds up the pack.

    "My boss got curious about some breakins that were happening. Asked me to look into it since I was closer. Bunch of guys broke into a warehouse to steal some blue rocks. Knocked out the warehouse to total darkness somehow. Killed the guard. /They/ killed the guard." Flatline corrects herself, in case Robin started suspecting.

    "I got the jump on them."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Your mother was wise." Robin responds. And then she has to go all potty-mouth again and he rolls his eyes behind his mask. When she holds up the pack, there's a fire of a grapple line, he grabs it and yanks it to him. Unless she decides to come along with it.

"What does your boss care about some breakins? What's your game, Flatline?" he asks her with a frown. Because she has yet to show any of the typical Gotham behaviours. If anything... she seems like she's trying to have fun. Which is foreign to Robin, but it is what it is.

"Blue rocks?" Robin's mind is already racing through the possibilities. There's no blue kryptonite that he knows of, so that's set aside for the moment. And then she makes sure he knows she did not kill the guard.

A frown and a soft sigh. "So I'm assuming once you dump this in my lap, you're going to go all Pontius Pilate and walk away?"

Flatline has posed:
    "He was curious and I was closer and he couldn't be bothered to do his own work. Isn't that what Batman uses you guys for?" she asks.

    This wasn't typical Flatline. There was something definitely wrong.

    "I killed three of them. One to steal the goggles they were using to see in the dark. It... it wasn't NORMAL dark. And once the gogles are on it's like seeing through the chalk drawing /instagram/ picture. There's weird text and it stupid HURT to try and read it. They were on about the Queen in Blue. King in Yellow. They were prepping the way and needed the rocks for a pigment. Haint? Haunt? IT'..." she brings her hands up, and she presses her knuckles to her temples.

    "I'm not a hero. I'm not even a very good person. But all this got in my head. I can't sleep. I couldn't even listen to my MUSIC without feeling like I wanted to throw up. This is more than I signed up for, so yeah. I'm dumping it. My boss got his curiosity satisfied."

Damian Wayne has posed:
There is something wrong and he can tell. Robin sets aside the bag for the moment as he considers Flatline. He's still unaware exactly how her powers work, what she may have picked up from them. But this is not the happy fun Flatline he's used to coming across.

And that is why he frowns a little deeper as he considers her. "Are you alright?" comes his question. "Clearly, you're not. But apparently something's bugging you." A pause.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Flatline has posed:
    "Ohmigod I am not here to be psychoanalyzed. Gotham produces the WORST psychologists. They're all messed up." Flatline points out, but she draws back against the railing of the fire escape, and then rubs the back of her neck.

    "This wasn't normal. This wasn't like how it usually goes. It's staying, against my eyelids when I close my eyes. And nightmares... I don't *have nightmares*. I've never had them. BUt now it's all there. In my head. And I want it to stop."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"I'm not here to psychoanalyze you." Robin responds, before he frowns slightly. "We clearly cannot blame this on regret on this being a first kill or the like." Because he knows better. Way better. However, he's not exactly trying to attack her either.

"Walk me through it." he tells her. "From the moment you came through the door. Did any of them exhibit any type or power or mutation that may be causing the effects that are you feeling now?" Not that he knows of her ability, but it could be a lingering attack that was made on her.

"Has it only grown in intensity?" he asks her as he nudges the bag. "And is what's in here you assume is the cause of it?"

Flatline has posed:
    "That's their gear. It doesn't have anything to do with my nightmares. ANd I'm pretty sure that's so you guys can track them down, where it came from, whatever. I don't have that capability. And these guys were *messed up*. I've killed mutant hunters. I've killed Yakuza and violent offenders and traffickers in Russia. I've never... it's not... it has never been like this." Nika replies. For a moment, the fascade is dropped, and in lieu of Flatline, Nika curls her legs a little bit. Flatline is too proud to want comfort. Too cocky.

    But the momentary slip's gone.

    "And it's not like it's in my blood. They got a couple hits in, but didn't pierce anything. And there wasn't anything in the air neither."

Damian Wayne has posed:
Robin sighs. Okay, she clearly doesn't want to talk about it. But he's making notes to follow up later on exactly who she killed and what she may have picked up.

This is why you are careful with your partners, folks.

"I'll look into it for you, Flatline. I'll see what I can find out. You can lay your head down tonight and have a clear conscience. At least as clear as you can have it for..." a gesture.

And he's definetly scrubbing down the bag for bugs and trackers before bringing it anywhere near the Batcave, his home or anywhere else.

Flatline has posed:
    The bag is easily opened. It's a recently purchased cheap backpack from a dollar store. Receipt is even in the bag. It contains a pair of goggles, and a pouch. There is blood on both.

    Everything else has been pre-screened for trackers. Flatline knows her stuff.

    "These guys... they weren't... they weren't from 'here'. I can't explain it. But they weren't 'from here'." she states as she draws herself up, and she takes off her face mask. She hadn't done her makeup. She looks sick.

    "So. There. Dillagence done. Outta my hands, not my problem. Best of luck with these guys stealing the blue rocks for the Queen in Blue to show up."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Aliens." Robin says simply as he studies the bag, considering it's contents and the information she has offered him. He glances up, frowning slightly. "I suppose that whatever it is that you do, does not mesh with whatever it is that they do, and you're caught in some type of feedback loop."

He's already taking a sample of the blood to run it through the small computer that most Bats carry with them on a gauntlet or in their utlity belt.

"I have the feeling that even you leaving this with me may not clear anything that you're going through at the moment." A pause. "But if I get an answer, I will let you know." An olive branch offered, at least?

Flatline has posed:
    "... really? You're not just going to go and hero and leave the massive serial killer girl hanging out to dry?" Flatline asks dubiously.

    "You also got me in trouble with my boss, saying I helped you." she adds, and she gives a wry smile.

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Consider it a one time favor." Robin responds. "You're going through something and trying to fight you would be pointless." There's a frown. He wants her at her best... not this mess that she is right now. Pride is a fickle thing.

"Then your boss is an idiot. You should do what you want, Flatline. Not what someone else forces you to do." Shut up, he knows. He /knows/.

Flatline has posed:
    "Heh. Cute. Like working for a criminal underlord works that way." Flatline states as she puts her face mask back on, and looks up, and gives a small 'heh'.

    "So. How *did* you end up with the sword of Talia al Ghul's kid?"

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Perhaps you should consider a solo career. I'm sure there's more than a few people that would offer you the support you needed were you to make a more honest effort to step out of your lord and master's shadow." Robin offers nonchalantly. He speaks from experience on that. Not that she'll find that out.

"That's easy. I defeated him and took it from him." comes his response to her.

After all, he has grown out of Damian al-Ghul and into Damian Wayne. It's /close/ enough. "I was not prepared for your style when you took it from me. I will soon claim it back.'

Flatline has posed:
    "Pft. Yeahhuh. Riiiiight. You defeated an al-Ghul and you're still alive." Flatline states with gentle teasing in her voice.

    "Well." she states, rising to her feet. "Kinda hope this isn't the last time we hang out, but I understand if you don't like keeping company like me. I wouldn't keep my company either." Flatline states as she stretches her arms up over her head.

    "You... be safe. Or whatever. I guess."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"You will see me again." Robin responds.

"When I have the answer to your issue." With the bag in his hand, he closes it up and then as she's stretching, he simply... steps off the edge of the building.

And by the time he's reached the darkness of the alley, he's already gone, off to do whatever it is that Robins do in the night.