Owner	Pose
Barbara Gordon	She rewinds the footage again and takes it frame by frame. There's something distinctly Bruce about her fighting style which is what really caught her eye. Not that Bette immediately made friends with the stranger calling herself Huntress.     Everything was non-lethal. She is clearly trained too well for her strikes at nerve bundles to be mistakes or luck. No one gets this good at fighting out of no where.. and facial recognition didn't give her a single hit. Sure, she's masked, but _something_ has to exist. She doesn't like it when someone doesn't exist. It's like Cass all over again.     There was only one way to find out - meet her. The next night, she suited up. Crouched on the back of a large stone gargoyle on top of a building that overlooks Amusement Mile, she watches, she waits. Her dark cape draped about her. It's not long before the weather sets in. It's Gotham after all. The rain pelts against her armored black suit.
Helena Wayne	Vigilantes don't mark territory the same way that other predators do, much to the relief of Gotham's citizens and sanitation workers. But now that Huntress has made an appearance twice on the Amusement Mile, she's sort of put her mark on it. Figuratively speaking, of course. It doesn't afford the luxury of tall buildings and high rooftops to duck and hide, but that doesn't mean someone skilled in the art can't do the job. Right now, the woman in the black and purple lurks in the shadows above the entry arch to the abandoned amusement park. Huntress knows that some gangs require repeated training before the lesson sticks. There's no telling how long she's been there waiting in the rain. Likely since before the rain started, but certainly since darkness fell. Another nagging familiarity, perhaps, the affinity for stealth. Lightning cracks at the same time headlights flash from a passing car. A brief glimpse, but still a glimpse for someone who's watching.
Barbara Gordon	Whoever she is, she's very well trained for this. And by this, specifically, being a vigilante in Gotham. It seems impossible to her that someone could get this good but come out of no where. Just being a good fighter doesn't automatically make you good at this part of the job. Neither does being an assassin - though they tend to be closer to the mark.     As the lightning and car reveal her hidden prey her wings snap open and she drops from the building top, gliding down through the rain. What little moon light there is casts the ominous shade of the bat below. A sign to all the gangs that this isn't a good night to be out and about.     Babs lands on top of the building next to where Helena has set herself up. She wanted to be seen by the stranger because no one parks themselves in Gotham without the Bat knowing. Bruce is going to be fascinated by this one, for sure. It piqued Oracle's interest immediately.     Another crack of lightning and there the Bat is, standing on the roof looking directly at Huntress, not moving, arms crossed over their chest. A silent calling out. Here in this world fear is used as a weapon too. This approach is downright polite.
Helena Wayne	That brief flash is the only glimpse that Barbara gets of Huntress, at least until she glides down and makes her landing. With the next flash the two women are facing each other; one with arms crossed and the other still in that crouch. She didn't have the crossbow out before, but there it is. Pointed safely up, at least for now. Huntress isn't using garage-level or even internet-level tech. No, the way the rain sluices over the Kevlar-Nomex weave of the black suit as she rises is quite familiar to Barbara. No eye holes for the cowl; probably advanced optics. And the armor plating looks to be made of advanced materials. Turning slowly, the crossbow lowers and Huntress regards the other woman for a moment. "You wear the Bat emblem." she declares. The woman's voice is low and husky, with just a bit of cultivated rasp to it.
Barbara Gordon	That's a lot of hardware too, for someone who just appeared out of absolutely no where. Barbara's eyes roam over the woman as she contemplates her nature. Huntress is a good name for someone dressed like that. A tiny projector emits in to her eye a scan of the EM output from what she's wearing.     "And you call yourself Huntress," she replies. The currently known Huntress is not exactly the most reliable or trustworthy of people. She doesn't do non-lethal like this one apparently does. She dangles some more social rope and a small smirk appears, "I'm Batgirl."     Yes, she is sizing Huntress up. By all expectations Babs figures she'd be a difficult fight. Though, she really hopes it doesn't come to that. At the very least this stranger knows who the Bat is. Explaining that to an outsider means they have yet to know the weight of its meaning.
Helena Wayne	Batgirl. Helena used to be Batgirl, a lifetime ago. Then again she was also Robin. Her weight doesn't shift as she reaches over with her free hand, taking the tension out of the crossbow. On -her- Earth, Batgirl is dead. So is Batman, and even Catwoman. Dad and Mom. No. Not here. The optics hide the blink, but her body language shows the brief distraction. Yes, there's something maddeningly familiar about this woman. Purple lips draw back into a bit of a smile as well. "Batgirl." she repeats. "Then I have no quarrel with you." The rasp fades quickly, but the husky tone remains. Natural, perhaps. "You are here for a reason." It's not a question.
Barbara Gordon	The rumble of the distant thunder adds to the ambiance of the moment as Babs considers that subtly shift in body language. Apparently the name means something to her. That could be a good thing or a bad thing. "You helped Flamebird," she says. One of her Birds of Prey.. still learning how to run before she can walk, but the enthusiasm and heart is all there.     "And you fight like a pro," she adds. Did Helena not think she'd be watched? Perhaps not with so many dead on her world, "What are you doing in my city?" To the point. So far she is proving herself a friend - but perhaps she might also be an ally.     Usually she gets Steph to join her in this sort of thing - recruiting - however this is a bit of a special case. Every one else she's recruited to the birds has a history. They are a known quantity. Helena is anything but. "And where did you learn to fight like that?"
Helena Wayne	Those eyes would no doubt reflect humor if it weren't for the covering optics. The widening smile does so instead. "Flamebird got in over her head." Helena replies. "I did what any of you would've done." Any of you... Not for the first time since her arrival, Helena wonders just who else might be wearing the Bat emblem. She lets her weight shift this time, and the movement isn't entirely familiar to Barbara. The grace... the poise... reflect more than just intense martial arts training. And surely she's had that. Barbara has seen the footage. "I'm from out of town." Huntress replies, with veiled honesty. "I had a good teacher, who's also not from around here." Pause. "One of the best." Helena has practiced keeping emotion out of her voice, but the playback will later reveal a touch of a waver in her tone. Deep breath, slow exhale. "As for what I'm doing, I'm just here to help. I would've checked in and signed the books, but I've had trouble finding your Union Hall."
Barbara Gordon	It's all too familiar. The way she moves, the way she regards the conversation. A bit like talking to a mirror if you ignore the costume. "Right," she says clearly not happy with the half truths. Still, no evidence to the contrary that she isn't exactly what she says she is - here to help.     Another little smile at the Union Hall joke, "If that's what you're looking for there is a group I am part of called the Birds of Prey. I don't know you well enough yet - but I get the feeling you're going to be sticking around."     Her chin lifts just a little, challengingly, "Show me who are you and we can talk about the Birds." She takes from her a pocket on her belt an ordinary looking cell phone and tosses it over to Helena. It has only one app on it, the Birds of Prey app. Very limited access. "Don't leave town. And don't turn it off."     The silent approach of her Batcycle is further muffled by the rain and thunder. It has its lights off, dark, sleek, fast machine. It pulls up in to the ally next to the building they're on top of.
Helena Wayne	Huntress catches the phone with a casual snap of her hand, not once breaking eye contact with Batgirl. "Birds of Prey?" she echoes. Okay, so that's a new one. The phone gets tucked into her belt. Of course there's a tracker on it; she would've done the same. "So I show you mine and then I'm on the team? Look, I know you're probably not big on trust around here, but this isn't really a good place to unmask." Back on Helena's world the heroes didn't show a lot of trust, either. Until it was too late. At least she wasn't opposed to the idea. After all, Helena has no identity in this reality. And unless a blood sample is a part of the initiation, her origins will be unverifiable.
Barbara Gordon	Babs is surprised that Helena took what she said that way. She is insanely nosy, it comes with the territory of being Oracle, but trust is a two way street and she's not ready to trust Helena that much yet. "No.. I meant by your deeds. Show me who you are by doing what it is you do."     A somewhat whimsical smile appears on her face and her posture relaxes just a touch. She wears that suit like it's a second skin and it wears her just as familiarly. "The phone will track where you go, what you do, and Oracle will be watching. Oracle is the leader of the Birds of Prey. She will evaluate you. If you want to show her who you are.. take a selfie when you get some place you feel safe do so."     "The Birds are a network of female identifying heroes who when they are needed support each other as allies." No mention of Gotham in that description, the network is farther reaching than that. "You can text directly with Oracle on that phone, the more they know about you the better they can evaluate you."
Helena Wayne	Oracle? File that under Birds of Prey. Wait, a whole network of female heroes in Gotham? The mask doesn't show those raising eyebrows, thankfully. "Take a selfie?" The smile becomes wry, then. "I don't care if Oracle IS the leader of the Birds. I don't send booty-shots without at least dinner and a glass of wine first." But yeah, she's keeping the phone all the same. She sizes up Batgirl as the other woman relaxes a touch. Lithe. Efficient. Strong. Also confident and experienced. Unlike Flamebird, who had raw talent without either of the last two. Helena's expression turns more serious for a moment. "Don't take this personally, Batgirl, and I hope Oracle doesn't either. There are things about me that neither of you are ready to know yet, even if I'm ready to share." Which she is. "I'll send a picture tonight from my apartment, since Oracle will already know where I live. And if anyone comes to visit, I very strongly suggest that you knock first. I'm a light sleeper and a good shot in the dark."
Barbara Gordon	Babs hmphs softly and narrows her eyes a moment. "I think you'll find Oracle is ready, but don't expect her to take your word until she trusts you. That trust is hard earned. No one knows who she is," she says adding to the mystery. Sort of like telling people Batman is a myth to scare criminals. She's good at the lie though, it's one of the more important pieces of operation security.     About the good shot, "I don't doubt it. If you're really here to help, Oracle will let the rest of us know. There'll be a knock." She regards the stranger for one more moment, smiles, then walks to the edge and drops off on to her batcycle. The silent bike moves away rapidly out of the ally and down the street - leaving Helena to have her space and thoughts.
Helena Wayne	Helena expected something similar as a departure, and she takes just the few paces necessary to watch the direction of the quiet bike's departure. There's no pursuit, although Huntress quickly leaves the roof. Her own transportation is more mundane; a bike painted in dark colors with military black-out shades over the lights. With her optics, Helena doesn't need the lights for any other reason than to be street-legal. Less than an hour later, a video is captured on the mobile phone. The apartment is simple, from what little of it can be seen. Plain walls, likely rented as a furnished unit. (Which can easily be verified thanks to the GPS data...) Huntress stands with her back to a wall, fussing with a pair of lamps to improve the video lighting. Girl knows something about tech as well, apparently. Finally she straightens, holding the phone at arms length to show her upper torso and head, still in costume. Carefully and deliberately she removes the mask, giving those black locks a careful toss as her full face is exposed. Blue eyes with an exotic shape, reflecting mixed heritage. High cheekbones, pale complexion with a light dusting of freckles. And young. She's probably not even of drinking age. Deep breath; exhale slowly. "Oracle... whoever you are... I'm trusting you because of the symbol your agent wore tonight. My name is Helena." Pause. Another deep breath. "Helena Wayne." Stop video.