2719/A Timely Rescue

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A Timely Rescue
Date of Scene: 01 August 2020
Location: East Village
Synopsis: Tim gets mugged. Luckily X-23 is around to stop it.
Cast of Characters: Tim Drake, Laura Kinney




Tim Drake has posed:
Supposedly, the Bowery has a shop where very lovely áo dài can be purchased. Assuming you speak Vietnamese, or at least enough to get by, or have something that bypasses the need to know such.

Supposedly, this area of the city is also fairly crime-ridden, but for a child of Gotham... what does that even //mean// anyway? With a thought that it can't be half as bad as the Narrows, Tim Drake sets out for the East Village after his little meeting at Empire State earlier in the day. His mask and costume are tucked into the Redbird, parked several, several blocks away in a parking garage in Uptown.

He had taken the subway to Bowery station. For all his wealth, he doesn't look like a rich kid of Gotham at the moment, in dark green cargo shorts and a t-shirt that says 'Building the Future: WayneTech' on it. Yes, he's carrying a latest-model StarkPhone Plus (with a hacked ROM, with Oracle's personal rebuild of the software on it). But beyond that, nothing about his screams 'tourist' or 'mug me'.

Which probably comes from living in Gotham.

So once he's off at Bowery, he begins following the apocryphal directions towards the alleged dress shop.

The problem with this area, however, is that there are several competing Mafias that claim it as their home turf. Including the Bratva.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura Kinney was - well, starting to make progress. Starting, however rudimentary, to build real relationships. She'd even secured her own room at Xavier's Institute as a guest. And, with the recent conversation with the Professor, she had come to the realization it was permenant. Thus, she was taking the few possessions she did have out of her apartment she'd been keeping in the area, had turned in her keys and was carrying the large duffel down the street.

Of course, Laura knew the dangers of the streets here. She had encountered them before - or, perhaps it might be more correct to say that they encountered her because she was still around. No doubt they weren't too fond of her. Yet, the small girl with the athletic build, walking alone, hardly seems concerned for her surroundings and headed back towards where she can pick up a bus, and begin the ride and bus exchanges back to Xavier's. It was a simple enough route.

This trek, of course, would bring her crossing paths with Tim soon enough, Bratva or no.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Hey bro." A guy in a tracksuit crosses in front of Tim. "You have the time, bro?"

Someone untrained, unaware? They might just pull up a watch or phone and answer, leaving themselves distracted. Tim, though? He's noticed the two guys trailing him. And the three on the other side of the street.

Damn. Cash he didn't care about if he was mugged, but his phone has BatTech added to it. That's a hard no. "It was 4:15 when I got off the Subway a few minutes ago, man," Tim replies jovially. Mentally, he's calculating his escape. But to the outside viewer, it looks like a slightly geeky young man in normal street clothes is about to get wrecked by some Russian mob goons.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura continues on, her eyes, always alert, spot the same people that Tim has spotted. She continues to carry her duffel bag towards the men accosting the young man who can't be any older than she is. She is no expert at reading body language, but she is a pro at assessing situations, and dealing with them. And this situation, she deduces quickly, will not take much effort on her part.

Her steps carry her, quickly enough behind the two men. If she's seen the others on the opposite side of the street, she doesn't look at them.

"Leave him alone," the young woman states, evenly.

Tim, more than most, would recognize the expression in her eyes. The hardness, there. He's seen it, certainly, in Cassandra's eyes when she fights. A measured certainty far beyond her looks, and her age. "Leave him alone. Go. Now. Do not come back."

Tim Drake has posed:
The young detective is startled slightly at the appearance of the slight girl his age slipping silently up behind the "bros" hassling him. His ice blue eyes widen for a second, then narrow slightly. If Laura can smell fear, she may notice something a little off-- he doesn't seem to smell at all like it.

The lead goon laughs. "Little girl, you do not know what is you are doing. Go away now." He looks to Tim. "Wallet. Phone."

The Gothamite smirks slightly. "I don't think so, actually."

"Is bad idea, you fight me. Is six of us, one of you. You will not be so good."

Tim's eyes flit to Laura's. He sees her, and assesses her. He pops his neck and rolls his shoulders. "Eh. Two now, I think. And I think that's a more than unfair fight."

Tim pauses. "For you."

Laura Kinney has posed:
Lead Bro squints his eyes at Tim, while Buddy Bro crosses his arms to show they are not in the least intimidated, or threatened by the two 'scrawny' teenagers. Sadly, for them, Laura is not about second chances. Hell, a month ago she wouldn't even have been up for first chances. That's progress, for you.

Her foot slams into the back of Lead Bro's kneecap, causing him to lose his balance and sink as his weight is temporarily cut out from under him. That slight advantage is all Laura needs to grab his arm, shift her own weight and swiftly slam his body into the concrete below, the duffel bag dropped to the side.

She twists the arm, hard and puts her foot on the man's neck, looking back to Buddy Bro who decides he's first going to take Tim to task on the scene gone wrong - his fault for not handing over the wallet, as the three other Bro's begin to run to their rescue from across the street.


One of the three running across the street is drawing a knife; and Tim can see from his innate ability to see even the most subtle of details the other two are 'packing heat'.

Tim Drake has posed:
As one of the two back goons swings at Tim, the young batling sidesteps on the sideway, his foot coming down hard on the end of a broomstick with a broken end where the sweep would have been that was in with a pile of garbage bags. It flips up and he catches it expertly, spinning it quickly and landing one, two, three non-lethal but very painful blows on the bratva dillweed: solar plexus, spin to the jaw, and then a drop-stab of the non-sharpened end to his instep. As Lead Goon falls to Laura and Back Goon #1 drops to Tim's makeshift staff, Tim ducks another swing from Back Goon #2 and jabs out and sweeps with the 'staff', knocking Back Goon #2 to his ass.

But there's Other Goons 1, 2, and 3 inbound. And 2 and 3 have handguns. "Firearms," he shoots towards Laura quickly, before taking three fast steps forward and launching himself into the trio. Harder to use guns in close range-- something Batlings learn fast, dealing with the types that they fight.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura slams her other foot into Lead Bro's head, knocking him out with precision. "Confirmed," Laura states with an almost military, logistical precision to Tim as if she's worked on a team before. She hadn't seen them, but she can certainly smell the gun powder and oil.

She slams her foot into the second goon's head as well, equally knocking him out.

Two of their targets so detained, Laura does not run towards her target. She's already assessed that the young man is capable of handling himself. Instead, she begins simply, ... stalking towards them. With purpose. Her arms out at either side.

Knife Bro lunges at Tim with a sudden unsheathing of the hidden blade, and it's a rather wicked looking dagger to be sure. It looks well used and is, likely, not unused to drawing blood. Or, life. He seems pretty apt at it, too, having some skill with hand-to-hand, and bladed combat; then again, these three aren't caught unawares as the other two had been.

Gun Bro #1 is caught up in Tim's move to try and negate the threat, and, while gun is drawn, aims for Tim's ribs with a punch from a meaty fist to knock the wind out of the boys sails, cursing in Russian as he does so, looking to put a beating on him.

Gun Bro #2, however, managed to get out of the knot, and sets his aim on Laura, and the gun fires, and Laura's shoulder swings back with the force of the bullet. But, she keeps walking towards them. A slow, steady pace. Saying nothing. Just ... -looking- at them.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim's assessment is pretty wise-- gunbro #1 is the biggest threat, and so it him that Tim brings the rickety old broom down on-- which shatters with a heavy --CRAACK!!!-- leaving him with a short, escrima-sized stick instead of a bo. He manages to sidestep the punch in the process, though Knifebro gets a slice across his upper bicep. "Sssssh!" Tim hisses.

Escrima are more Dick's thing, but Tim's trained with them too, and when his bo is collapsed it's about this size. He whips around with the shortened stick, slamming it into the side of Knifebro's head, a trail of blood flying off his arm as he spins. Gunbro #1 is reeling but not down, nor is Gunbro #2. And Back Goon #2 is getting back to his feet. But Knife bro? He's out for the count, crumpling with Tim's strike into a boneless lump on the street.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura's eyes don't miss anything, not when it comes to combat. Gun Bro #2 takes another shot at Laura, and another, clearly intent on ending her - though out of fury, rage, or vengence it's impossible to say. The first shot misses, the second shot slams into her waist.

Each bullet leaves an open wound, tears through the fabrib of her clothing and blood flows. But Laura doesn't stop. Gun Bro #2 starts to back up, taking one, two, three steps back and raising his gun to fire a third round, confounded and perhaps, now, a bit intimidated by both the look she's giving him, and the fact that she's moving like she's not even affected by the bullets.

He doesn't get the chance to take another shot. Suddenly she's on him, and there's a sound Tim has never, likely, heard before.

*Snikt*

The small girl, wearing only jeans and t-shirt, suddenly has two blades in her hands. Long, curved blades. But that isn't right. Not -in- her hands. -On- them. Jutting out of the back of her wrists. The dual claws slide into the man's shoulder like butter, and she twists, slides them out leaving in their wake an arm that is still attached but whose ligaments have been shredded and torn and the limb itself like a marionette's arm whose string has broken. Useless.

Laura points the claws at GunBro #2 with eyes that state she is prepared to end his life. And she has no problems with this.

She then points her other hand at Back Goon #2.

*Snikt*

Another pair of dual claws appear, and her arms pointed at either side of her, at each Goon/Bro, she says, simply, and with finality, "Run."

Tim Drake has posed:
"Whoa whoa whoa Stab girl!" Tim drops, leg sweeping GunBro #1, knocking him down and cracking him in the head with the makeshift escrima. "Killing bad." Though his eyebrows are climbing into his scalp at the results of the *snikt*. He looks up from his leg sweep position at GunBro #2. "Drop it and bail, buddy. You lost."

Laura Kinney has posed:
"I did not kill him," remarks Laura, blandly, the two bullet wounds showing - one on her right shoulder, the other against her stomach. The blood makes it apparent, if the tears in the fabric themselves don't.

The remaining bro's, sensing that they've bitten off more than they can chew start to make a break for it, and to get their buddy some much needed underground medical attention. "I severed his tendons, and muscle mass, rendering his arm inoperable for some time." This, too, is said matter-of-factly.

As the Russian's retreat, her blades retract back into her wrists as if they never were. "You are injured." Pot, kettle, black. She moves to Tim, "Do you require medical attention?"

She seems to be offering her services, rather than to call.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim blinks. "Just a cut-- you've been shot. Are //you// okay?" He gets to his feet, tossing the broken bit of wood away. "Gut shots are serious." His expression is serious and concerned. "I'll be fine. I've had worse." And recently. Not that he's bringing that up.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura nods. "The Bratva do not tend to poison their blades. However, it more likely to carry contaminantes on the weapon. You should clean the wound as soon as possible to prevent infection."

"Yes. I was shot. Twice. I have found it is an effective tactic. It provides me with a psychological advantage as well as my physical advantage. It also kept his attention on me, rather than firing on you. I am certain your body heals extremely slowly."

To demonstrate what she means, she lifts two fingers to the wound on her shoulder, splaying open the hole in the fabric. Where there is wet blood, sticky, on her shoulder and around the fabric there is no hole. No actual wound. "I heal quickly," she explains.

A pause. "But you do fight well. You have been trained." This seems to impress her, to some degree. She then offers her hand to Tim, after a moment seeming to remember it's something she's supposed to do rather than anything natural or something she's accustomed to doing.

"I am Laura. If you wish further escort, I will be glad to provide it. It is unlikely they will return. But, not entirely impossible."

Tim Drake has posed:
"...self defense classes," Tim demurs. He does look curious and interested in the sudden healing. "Can you do that for others or just yourself?" Not that he's met someone who can heal others or anything. Ahem. He takes her hand, shaking firmly. "Some call me Tim." When she doesn't seem to get the joke, he grimaces slightly. Way to nerd, Drake. "Uh, ahem. Tim's my name." He glances down the street. "Well, I was just heading to a dress shop about a block from here, actually. But if you don't mind tolerating a quick step into there to pick something up, I wouldn't mind buying you dinner for the assist. It's the least I can do." Coming from Conner, it would be flirting. Coming from Tim, who is oblivious on his best days, it's genuinely just being friendly.

It still might come across as flirting.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura nods at Tim, "I have seen several males wearing dresses," she states, without judgement and somehow managing not to infer anything either; this said in the same tone as someone who might tell someone else, 'I've seen that movie before'. In her world, one shops for clothing for themselves, not others. She hadn't even considered the possibility.

Neither does that sentiment deter her from his offer. She nods, "I would like dinner. Healing requires a vast amount of energy. Though these were relatively minor, it has also been some time since I last ate. To answer your question, my healing factor is limited to myself. I am sorry I cannot also heal you."

Tim Drake has posed:
"Oh, no-- it's fine," Tim waves off her inability to heal him. "It's fine, I was just curious." He doesn't seem too taken aback at her powers or their limitations past his initial surprise. "And the dress is for a friend," he chuckles. "I don't come up this way often, so I figured I'd bring something back to Gotham." He does move out of the street and onto the sidewalk with Laura, beginning to head towards the shop. "Any preferences on food? I'm pretty up for about anything, and I have a friend that has to eat when he... uses his powers too. Burns a lot of calories."

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura nods, once. "Yes," she says, to the consumption of calories. "That is exactly it."

"Do you like hot dogs?" She points, to a few blocks down. "Dave sells very good hot dogs," she proclaims, in the sort of unexcited, and very grave manner of someone conveying something extremely important. Hot dogs, at least, have large amounts of protein she can consume. And carbs, from the bun. It's a good way for her to rationalize the enjoyment of junk food she never had before she escaped.

But, she is polite enough to wait for him, before simply trekking there. It's pretty apparent she's hoping he likes hotdogs.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim laughs. "Sure. We can do that, since muggers haven't grabbed my cash, should be easy enough." They arrive at the 'shop', which is small and run-down looking, but inside there are several beautiful handmade Vietnamese dresses in different colors and minor tweaks in style. He gives Laura a brief grin, then nods politely to the proprieter, an older woman who is looking at him skeptically.

Tim greets her in Vietnamese, and then in a slightly broken continuation gives her a rough idea of why he's here. He pulls out his phone to use to translate. They talk back and forth in broken English and Vietnamese for a few minutes, before she stands up, moving amongst the dresses she has and finds one in a gentle light blue with soft purple embroidery. Tim looks at it, nodding a bit, and after a few more moments, money changes hands and the dress is wrapped in paper and bagged.

"Sorry about that," Tim says lightly as he finishes up.

Laura Kinney has posed:
"Your friend must be very attractive," Laura states, but she seems to have a great deal of patience, showing not the slightest irritation or sign of boredom or even listlessness while Tim does his business with the hole-in-the-wall dressmaker shop. "Vietnam has many such shops," she says, with the experience of having been to the country. "I would not be surprised if she, or her mother, had run a simliar shop in their country of origin."

As Tim finishes up and they leave, starting to head towards Dave's hotdog stand, Laura adds, "Your fighting style is beyond that of practical self-defense classes." She is not a detective by any strech of the imagination, but she knows fighting when she sees it, and can get a grasp on the level of those she's observing.

'Dave's Hot Dog Stand' is indeed run by Dave, who is, for all intents and purposes, one of those old men who you'd probably want for a grandfather if you didn't have one, and who likely had started the stand when he was young and had simply never stopped running it. And, arguably, one of the 'better' hidden secrets of this area.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim gives Laura a sideways glance, but doesn't reply at first. He orders what he wants from Dave's and then gestures for Laura to do the same, and pays. Once they have their food, and have wandered a bit away from the cart, he shrugs. "Advanced level self defense," he replies after he takes a bite of his hotdog and swallows it. "Gotham's a rough place."

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura isn't shy, unlike so many girls her age, and with her figure in New York. Or, Gotham, for that matter. She orders not one, but for hot dogs. With everything. She gets handed a tray with the dogs, and moves to the side to talk to Tim. She nods a little bit, mouth twisting in thought, before she takes a rather large and quite unladylike bite of the hotdog.

She does have enough manners to not talk, while eating. So it is only after the bite is swallowed, she nods. "That is where you live? I have never been to Gotham." She considers this facet.

"I have been told I should expand my horizons. Perhaps I will go."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim laughs. "It's just a quick hop down the Hyperloop," he mentions. "But stay out of the Narrows. It's pretty bad." That's an understatement. He takes another bite and eats in silence for a bit. "So, uh... you have... hand knives?" He lifts a brow, curious. "That's interesting."

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura, too, is content in the silence, and to simply consume. There is no shame, or awkwardness, no social mores that stop her from not simply gorging herself, albiet with a bit of a measured pace. She's not /wolfing/ it down. But she is eating with abandon to satisfy her bodies needs.

She wipes off her mouth with one of the many napkins. She corrects, "Claws. Yes. They are efficient and effective weapons. However, I am unable to use public flight for transportation." She does not mention her footblades, for one reason or another.

"You did not have to worry about me killing them. They were not a threat."