17211/I Believe You Have Something That Belongs To Me

I Believe You Have Something That Belongs To Me
Date of Scene:	17 February 2024
Location:	Little Italy
Synopsis:	Flatline meets the Assassin, the daughter of the Demon's Head's child and they have a short conversation.
Cast of Characters:	Damian Wayne, Flatline

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Damian Wayne has posed:
Flatline had gotten into a habit of how to communicate with Robin. Little graffiti markers all over the place. So imagine her surprise when one of them had been painted over and written in Arabic was a riddle.

Where Ceaser met Napoleon and gladiators fought, in the city that never sleeps, this area is given little thought. Where am I?

The answer was obvious, with just a little legwork needed. Waterloo Pizzeria in Little Italy. The building had burned out years ago, but the empty lot still remains.

Flatline has posed:
    For one, she didn't speak a whole lot of Arabic. For two -- the fact that it was in riddle form piqued her curiosity.

    There was a dusting of the crunchy snow, too light to make into snowballs, slippery and dangerous as she alighted on a fire escape on an adjacent building to the lot that held the Waterloo Pizzeria. She's got her thick black hoodie on over her normal jacket, her boots scraping against frozen cast iron, kicking up some rust flakes as she watches the snow fall, lending a softer quality to the city that never sleeps.

    She's on her guard now. Not every day you get invited out on a 'date' by the Son of the Daughter of the Demon's Head.

Damian Wayne has posed:
The walls are partially collapsed. The building was apparently partially razed at some point, but had yet to finish it's demolition. Probably just waiting for the moment for some sucker... we mean investor to decide this the spot he wants to develop.

"Flatline." That is said in the darkness. Above her.

Perched on the edge of a ruined wall is a figure. Dressed in dark greens, gold, and black, he looks very much the assassin he had been trained to be. A half-mask is pulled up above his nose, obscuring his face. All she can really see is those emerald-green eyes.

"I was informed by the Demon's Daughter that you have come into possession of an item that belongs to me." comes the soft growled voice.

"I applaud your skill to come into possession of it, but I believe that I have let you play with it long enough."

Flatline has posed:
    Flatline draws her pinkish eyes slowly up, her black lips pursing a moment as she looks up to the son of Talia al Ghul.

    Her head tilts a moment, and she raises her eyebrows into her pale hairline.

    "Finally, we meet." she states in a slightly flat toe, though she's suspicious she's met this man before. Her fingers stretch out, warming her fingers in the cold.

    "So I'm told I've got something that belongs to you." she states, and she gives an almost smug smile.

    "You've got pretty eyes." she remarks in something that might have been an honest flirt.

Damian Wayne has posed:
One of the brows of those green eyes lift, making the emerald eye that much bigger, but it narrows back down. "There are other ways that you may have contacted me." It's clear she's met his mother, after all.

"You do." he responds. "My question to you is, now that you have it, what is your expectation?" he questions.

What does she plan to do with it? What does she want for it? And why did she say he had pretty eyes.

Flatline has posed:
    "Well I mean, I don't just look up 'Talia al Ghul's Son' on the internet and get hits that leave me, y'know. Able to TALK afterwards." Flatline states quietly, and she straightens up. She crosses her arms and leans on the railing of the fire escape, looking up at the Assassin Prince. "And who even knows where you are anyway? Here, Iran, Brazil livin' it up in Carnival --" she trails off with a shrug. "Easier to just tell people I have it now, and let you come to /me/."

    And she purses her lips, considering his inquiry and she sticks her pinkie finger in her ear.

    "Well really I was kinda expecting some sort of fight I guess. Maybe other assassins? Like a big group of assassins? Do you call yourselves a 'murder' like crows do? Or something fancy like a Cabal? A Consortium?"

Damian Wayne has posed:
She's being cute. And it's kind of adorable, but at the same time, it seems that the son of al-Ghul understands what it is that Flatline is looking for. Fine. "You wanted me to come to you. I have." comes the quiet words.

His hands flash out of the darkness and in either grip is a sharp, curved jambiya. Short, deadly. Something that he once was. That he allowed to become dull. But here, in this empty lot. With her?

He lashes out from the bricks, dust kicked up as he dives at the girl, giving her barely a moment to react as the pair of blades lash out. There's no honor there. There's no 'Ready, Set, Go' or speeches. He's just there, ready or not.

A step, a slide along the ground and as the blades cut towards the space that Flatline occupied, whether or not he connects, he's already moving away from her, taking away the advantage she may think she has with the sword by getting out of it, the swirl of the cloth of the cloak making it hard to judge from where his next attack may come from.

Flatline has posed:
    Good. Flatline can't stand it when they start talking at her. She usually starts humming.

    This was more like it. More like what she was thinking would happen.

    The Assassin dives at her, and Flatline nimbly flips back and over the railing of the fire escape, catching the bottom rung support of the platform and slinging a pair of spikes up through the grating at the Son of Talia.

    "I knew you were going to be a fun one!" she chirps as she releases the cold cast iron, and lands in the razed lot, sliding backwards in the snow.

    She narrows her eyes, taking a deep gulp of the cold air.

    <Reminds me of home.> she states in Russian, already drawing out another pair of knives as she regards the cloaked assassin's son.

Damian Wayne has posed:
The spikes fly towards the Assassin and as they get close, the pair of blades deflect them off to the sides. As she tries to get high, he moves towards her, leaping at her again as she starts to come off the ladder, using that moment where she is in the air and unable to control where she lands to his advantage.

"You took a blade. Learn to use it." he offers at her flatly.

When she starts to speak Russian and she draws knives instead, there's a soft, almost familiar 'Tt' that rises from him. <It should remind you of where you are headed.> he comments of her speaking of home, clearly understanding Russian as well.

Another move in, a feint with his blades. Keep your eyes on the jimabiya that are up above you, Flatline - don't notice that spiked boot that comes up to strike at the inside of her thigh. She'll have just a moment to realize where the real attack is coming from. Which is probably plenty of time.

Flatline has posed:
    <Ah! You speak Russian? This makes things interesting!> Flatline states, and she moves, light on her feet on the razed building, and she brushes aside an ice dam to try and get to the flat of the razed ground.

    She turns, bringing her knives to bare, and she gives a bright grin, her eyebrows narrowed.

    <Hell?> she questions, and she brings one knife up to catch against the jimabiya, keeping her structure foot, her arms steady. She's wiry, but she's *strong*. And she's absorbed so many fighting techniques over the last two years.

    She breathes out and brings her other knife down to bring the point against the front of the spiked boot to bring his foot to a stop.

    "I took the blade from a Bat. How'd he get it? I'm *dying* to know!"

Damian Wayne has posed:
<Were you planning a conversation with yourself?> That is offered flatly from the Assassin as he and the Mercenary continue their battle.

The pair of jimabiya are defended against with one blade, as the other comes up to catch the blade on the boot. For a moment, they are locked into that position before he kicks off with his other foot, not aiming for her chin, but instead a hard backflip to put that distance between himself and Flatline again. And he slides to a stop in the middle of the ruined structure, his feet settled on the tiled floor.

<We are not destined for Hell.> that much is set simply. <If anything... Niflheim may be where we end up.> he says to her simply, flatly. Let her figure that one out.

And then she asks another question, this one about the blade that she has. And while she's gone back to English, he remains in Russian.

<That seems a rather prophetic statement to make.>

Flatline has posed:
    <You make it sound like I'm not a murderer. Murderers go to Hell.> she moves back, both of their feet now on the floor as she changes her stance, her eyes narrowing. She's measuring him up, shifting her weight on the slick tile, and she purses her lips. <I've asked.> she replies enigmatically, and she lets her breath out, still on guard. She circles around Damian.

    <Every man dies. Except, apparently, an al Ghul.> she comments breezily. <Supposedly your family kills for noble reasons. I'm not noble. There is nothing 'good' about me.>

Damian Wayne has posed:
<You're not asking the right questions, then.> comes the response from the Assassin. As she circles him, Damian is keeping his eye on her, those emerald eyes narrowed in thought. His foot slides, keeping it at a perpendicular angle to her.

<My grandfather is unique in his own way.> comes the response, and she may hear something in his voice that disagrees with that idea. <How did a sword of al-Ghul end up in Gotham in the first place?> he asks her, to give her food for thought.

A chuff of laughter rises from him, a small cloud of white of condenscened air <You claim not to be noble. Yet you rescued an actress from an bigotted mob. You claim not to be noble, yet you helped rescue trafficked humans.> A pause, and he adds.

<But if you assume I am here to kill you, you are mistaken.> Then why is he here?

Flatline has posed:
    <I killed six men who interrupted me in getting a refill. I played by The Bat's rules because I was told to complete a task. I didn't know there were people in those containers. And why would I *care* if there were?> Flatline questions, turning her knives in her hands as she breathes out.

    <Well. I mean, I /supposed/ you might be The Bat in Question. Similar height, weight -- just not wearing the colors. And he lacked the cool cloak.> Flatline gives a slight smile. <But that's too coincidental yes?> she asks.

    Her head tilts. <So you're not here to kill me, why *are* you here? 'Cause a ruined pizza place is a PERFECT place for a date.>

Damian Wayne has posed:
<Used to following orders, are you?> comes the question from the Assassin. <And you speak almost fondly of this Bat. Are you worried that there is another?>

Another small 'tt' as she compares him to... himself. But, there is a question that she asked that he decides to address. <I imagine you are the type that would find a picnic in a cemetary at midnight romantic.> comes his response to her as he tilts his head.

<Talia believes you have a talent. And that you could be useful. I am here to judge her thought.> he responds to her. <If there may be a place in the future for you.> And to get to her before his grandfather finds out and really muddles things up.

Flatline has posed:
    <Why, looking for date ideas? Don't you have the internet, Son of the Daughter of the Demon? That's too long.> she states, and she tilts her head back a moment in thought.

    <Besides, you know that Park Cemetaries were meant for picnics for that reason? Maybe not at MIDNIGHT -- but we're both nightowls aren't we?> Flatline grins, and her eyebrows rise up in curiosity.

    <Talia thinks I have talent? Why, does she have a little bird whispering in her ear? Wouldn't /THAT/ be a *twist*.> she grins.

Damian Wayne has posed:
<You have a deep curiosity. Do not think simply because you are attractive it will not keep you from being harmed.> comes the Assassin's reply. But it seems that he has gotten the answers that he wanted, between the physical dance earlier and the metaphorical one that is going on at the moment.

There's a snort of amusement as he knows that Flatline is feeling things out. <I make use of the hours that are required.> he offers to her as he tucks his arms in for a moment. When they come back out, he is throwing several small spheres. They strike an already weakened wall and explode, causing the bricks to crumble and fall while other pellets kick up smoke, obstructing the view. <No. You have met her before.> he reminds her. <And we will speak again.>

And when the smoke clears - he's gone, leaving no clue of which way he went.

Flatline has posed:
    <Psh. Me. Attractive? You hit your head on the way down? I'm a monster!> Flatline protests, and she was about to charge forward, when the explosive spheres strike the wall behind her. She pauses in the snow, and looks up before she's partially entombed in the brick.

    Her hand is sticking out. And slowly it turns, and flips Damian off in a most friendly of manner, and she can be heard wheezing and laughing beneath the rubble as the smoke clears.