19911/this title is a spoiler

this title is a spoiler
Date of Scene:	22 January 2025
Location:	Location
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Stephanie Brown, Renee Montoya

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Stephanie Brown has posed:
    New year, new Spoiler/Batgirl/Stephanie Brown! Or at least, that was Steph's plan. She had sworn to make it happen as the clock struck midnight on New Years Eve. And while parts of her plan have worked (More socializing! Less dwelling on the smoking wreckage of her previous relationship!) other parts aren't going so different.

    Like the alarming closeness she's at to winding up in an entirely more literal and troubling flaming wreckage. The wind howls, her cape whipping and snapping in the draft of the cargo truck she's hanging onto the trailer of. This is surely fine. Stop a gang stealing some high tech gizmos. Easy peasy lemon squeezy and all.

    Right up until the driver hit the gas, and while she heard some of the pricey junk rattle around in the trailer, and the shouts of a bunch of angry goons absorbing those impacts, now she's got a bit of a problem. A distinct lack of superpowers means she can't just leap in front of the truck and stop it with a mighty punch, energy blast, or other impressive display that so many other costumed blondes can manage. And so she does her best to deaden the note of desperation in her voice as she opens comms.

    << Heyyyy... if anyone's available to set up a roadblock or... I dunno, politely ask a speeding eighteen wheeler to stop, I'd totes appreciate it. I'll buy you cocoa. Also you'll get to punch like at /least/ half a dozen criminals. >>

    Steph continues to dangle, fingers just barely maintaining a solid grip on the trailer, despite the fact it's not really careening wildly or anything. God, how does everyone else make pullups look so easy?

Renee Montoya has posed:
<"How good of a cocoa are we talking, exactly?">

Renee Montoya hates New Years Resolutions.

Don't get her wrong; she always makes them. And recently, she's gotten much better at keeping some of them -- after having been much worse at trying to better herself at -all-, at least. But Renee is exactly the fastidious type to keep records of these sorts of things. She can't help it; she tunnel visions.

And then, when it comes time to review, and she fails to meet whatever impossible standard she's set for herself, she starts to reflect. And reflecting on the past only leads down a very awkward, unpleasant hole. So!

New Years Resolutions can go to hell.

<"Because I made a resolution this year not to skimp on quality over quantity.">

Not that she'll stop making them, of course.

The voice that greets Stephanie's request is a calm and easy sort of voice; a bit deep, but a depth offset by how casual the tone is, like a warm roll of smoke. There's the faint sound of sparks. The thrum of an engine.

<"Actually, let's put a pin in that. You might want to hold on tight.">

And up ahead, it's just as as that semi makes a turn onto a more quiet, abandoned portion of Gotham's streets that it'll find a big black Cadillac Escalade blaring Hayley Kiyoko's "DEMONS" at max volume suddenly swerving into its path passenger-side and coming to an abrupt stop at -just- the right angle to cut off the 18-wheeler's passage.

Sure, it could -try- to barrel through.

But with the sudden surprise of it, and the size of the Escalade, the question, of course, is:

Are they going to risk it?

Stephanie Brown has posed:
<"Like superduper good. One of those ones with the improbable layer of whipped cream. With candy bar bits! Like one of those bloody maries that's basically an appetizer platter with some tomato juice and vodka!!">

Is Steph bargaining to convince Renee to help her out? Maybe. Or maybe she just really likes bougie hot chocolates. She'll never tell.

Steph's running through a list of potential hot chocolate suppliers, rapidly zeroing in on 'Raid the Clocktower pantry in the communal kitchen and just go helldamncrazy nuts with the sweets' when Renee's not-chocolate comment registers.

What? Does she think she's not holding on tight? Why would she have to hold on even tight-

"Oh!! SHIT!!!" she doesn't trigger her communicator, so there will be no digital record of a scion of the Batfam /using the devil's language/! Not that it would probably have been audible through the blasting AWOOOOOOOOG of the truck driver yanking on the horn's pull cord at the same time he hits the brakes and there's a loud hiss and screech of air brakes engaging. The truck does not, as many movies would lead one to believe, proceed to launch its rear wheels into the sky to do a somersault or whatever it's called when a truck flips over. It just launches Steph upwards into an almost-smooth roll onto the roof of the trailer, drawing out a solid 'OOF!' from the young heroine.

An oof not loud enough to drown out the sounds of clattering cargo in the trailer, and then angry shouts and boots thumping towards the rear doors... which would totally be a problem. If she wasn't on top of the truck now.

Now it's just going to be a problem when they come outside in a second.

<"You, oh wonderful mysterious stranger, have style! ...Also, as promised there's like ten angry criminals about to spill out of this clown car. Figurative clown car, I don't think they work for the Joker.">

Renee Montoya has posed:
Brakes scream, briefly drowning out the sound of synthesized dreampop delights booming out of the Escalade. It's a close call -- but that big chonker of an Escalade does not so much as -budge- as the semi comes to a precarious, violent stop -just- outside of ramming into the thing.

<"What can I say?"> the Question's voice comes in again through the crackling comes at Steph's ear.

<"You laid on the cocoa thick and I'm a sucker for a sweet tooth.">

The low-level gangsters are spilling out, as promised/warned. But it's hard to see what's going on inside of that Escalade. The windows seem... fogged up, green smoky smudges making it impossible to see who - or WHAT - might be inside.

<"If it was Joker, ten angry criminals would be the least of our problems. ... Unless it was part of the punchline. I've got some cover for us. You go high, I go low?">

And, as the criminals approach, the second they try to open the Escalade doors, or shoot into it?

Thick, green smoke just -spills- out of the SUV like a waterfall of fog, the dense, phantasmal vapors flooding the street and providing a convenient smokescreen.

Perfect for a gloved hand to emerge from the smoke unseen, to tap the lead thug on the shoulder.

"Hey, guy. You have a torque wrench on you?"

A whoosh of motion, a glint of light, and something heavy and metal cracks across the back of the man's head to lay him out in short order.

The faceless form of the Question emerges a few seconds later wearing an oversized, fur-lined black jacket, a dark blue turtleneck, black pants and a striking blue newsboy cap, flipping a bloodied torque wrench in her palm.

"Nevermind," she asides to the fallen man, "Found it."

And Renee braces herself, readying for the rest.

<"One down. So, are you one of those 'more candy than cocoa' people? I want to know exactly how decadent a cocoa experience I'm signing up for, here.">

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Steph's bracing herself atop the trailer, huffing, puffing, generally letting her arms and shoulders go from 'screaming agony and strain from holding on for literal dear life' to 'Mildly aching because those are the wages of vigilantism'. Mostly she' just waiting for knots to ease so she can punch some jerk more effectively because if she picked up a crossbow, people would think she's Helena and then there'd be all the lawsuits and copyright claims and...

<"Oh, today? Today I'm wondering if you can make a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and chopped up frozen Mars bars, where the hot chocolate is /also/ melted Mars bars. I think we can. We have the technology. And that sounds like a plan! I mean, I"m already up here...">

As Renee introduces herself to the first goon on the street level, Steph sprints towards the back of the trailer, only to spring forward into a handstand, spinning while inverted, reaching the edge of the trailer, and swinging down, legs arcing up, sending her flying into the back of the trailer like a gymnast. A gymnast who went 'Hey, check out this totally cool Human Missile routine!' because while she's not going to be landing on a mat, she /is/ flying into the chest of a goon carrying some sort of blunt instrument of combat, with an impact that sends out a dull, almost crunchy THUD.

But he's probably got /some/ intact ribs. She barely breaks her stride as she uses the rebound to spring off her first target to fly lower and take out the knees of the guy she flew past to get /into/ the trailer.

<"Oh! For sure. If it's not decadent enough for you I'll break out the chocolate syrup. I'm nice like that.">

Renee Montoya has posed:
If it's not decadent enough for you I'll break out the chocolate syrup.

<"I think my heart just skipped a beat. You're -- ah shit, hang on a second--">

And so the Question BRAZENLY uses devil words across the Clocktower Comms to be recorded for ALL TIME (or until it gets deleted as junk messages); the reason for this comes in the form of one of the truck's passengers bursting through her green fog of binary gas to try to spring at her. The impact knocks the torque wrench from her hand with a metal clatter, but Renee goes -with- the momentum of the hired goon, falling backwards, curling in on herself, pressing bootheels into his midsection--

and pushing -up- with hands and feet simultaneously for a violent kip-up that knocks the man into another oncoming criminal and smashes -both- into the hood of the truck with a brutal CRACK of impact.

The Question, landing on her feet, adjusts her coat, looks around --

and then ducks low just as a third man comes swinging, his haymaker blowing -just- over that curly mane of inky black hair as the vigilante plucks up her hat.

The man's eyes widen, but he barely manages to get out a swear before Renee is snapping up and crashing the back of her head into his jaw with enough impact to rattle, following it up with a pivoting plow of her elbow into his solar plexus with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs and the consciousness from his thoughts.

<"--you want to be careful,"> Question's voice suddenly picks up on Spoiler's - Batgirl's - Stephanie's comm line. A warning!?

<"Nougat's got a different melting point than chocolate, so you don't want to burn one. Otherwise? Delicious.">

Oh. No. It's just that.

A second later, the Question is making her way to the back of the trailer, leaning against the opening to scope out the situation in all her faceless glory.

"Hey girl," she calls out, in that wry, teasing tone. "Going my way?"