Summary:Ravager runs into Red Hood while both are in downtime. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
  |
Luna Park has been closed for a few hours, and the amusement park is dark. It's a few hours after midnight, with a long time before the sun still rises. It's the time that Jason works best. When you're raised by the Batman you tend to end up a night owl. Fancy that. He's been on patrol all night, shutting down a high price gun deal, a large coke deal, and stopping two muggings and when sexual assault. It's been a long night. Security for the park is locked away in his building, with a good while before his next patrol…leaving the park silent.
Jason sits down on a bench, grunting to himself as he unfastens his helmet. He slides it off and sets it in his lap. He's dressed in tight utility pants with armored legging, boots, an armored shirt with the red 'Murdered Bat' symbol, and a motorcycle jacket. He has a utility belt filled with classic goodies, of course, and his shoulder holsters. Beneath he helmet he is sporting a busted lip and a fresh black eye under his red domino mask. He pulls a battered pack of cigarettes from his utility belt and lights one up, glancing up at the moon.
"I'll take one of those," says a female voice.
The voice it belongs to comes from a woman whose perhaps fifteen feet or so away from Jason, and dressed for slaughter.
Two pistols on either side of her hips, along with a pair of empty hilts. On her back, a pair of edged katana's, criss-crossing and a collapsable bo staff. Across her chest, a bandolier of bullet clips, and a steel knife.
She's dressed in split shades of dark blue and bright orange, not exactly built for stealth. But, intimidation. An eyewindow on one side of the platinum blonde's face against the orange, the darker blue bereft of any sight, supposedly.
The woman walks with confidence, and with silence as she approaches, holding out her hand expectantly for a smoke.
While the Red Hood's hand doesn't obviously dip to his gun at the voice, there is a practiced tension as he glances up at her. Subtle wariness. She's trained enough to be able to tell that he's not a rank amateur. His gaze dips over her curiously, both assessing her…and admiring her. He doesn't respond at first, other then to tap another cigarette out and hold it out to her.
He takes another drag of his own cigarette before he plucks it from his lips and lets the smoke drift free. "And here I thought I'd found the perfect place to brood, since Batman tickets you if you use rooftops…" His voice is deep and local, with a hint of a pleasant growl to the edge of his words. "…Not that I mind the company in this case. At least, so far."
"Batman's an ass," Ravager says, bluntly, and without even a second's worth of thought. That doesn't mean she doesn't respect his abilities, however.
Then, the young woman shrugs, non-committally. "I had some business to take care of here. Saw you as I was wrapping up. Haven't seen you before. Figured I'd either meet someone interesting, or, get to kick a little more ass. Either way, something to do."
She then reaches forward, snatching the cigarette pack from Jason's hand smoothly, plucks one out in the same fluid motion and then of all things leans in when he's taking his next drag to light her cigarette off of his.
The pack is dropped back into his hand. "Thanks."
She leans back, then, smiling, just a shade. "Ravager," she introduces herself. Anyone that knows Deathstroke would know the costume design, so her wearing it must indicate some kind of tie - or, maybe she's just that brash.
The man laughs at the comment about Batman and shrugs a muscled shoulder. He takes another drag of his cigarette and leans back, nodding. He brushes away a hint of blood on his chin from his lip. "Know the feeling. I was dealing with some business not too far from here." He pats the helmet in his lap. "Needed to take a bit of a breather. I wanted a hot dog, but…" He glances over at the stall for Nathan's and chuckles. "…Bit after business hours. The price of being a vigilante, right? Shit usually isn't open when we're up.
He leans in to let her light her cigarette from his, and then leans back again. "De nada," he growls in reply. He nods at the introduction. "Cool name. I'm Red Hood. Yeah, that one." His introduction doesn't carry bragadocio in his tone. Simply stating a fact. "But I don't do that, anymore," he adds, as an afterthought. He gestures, as if indicating her costume…or possibly just -her-. "I dig it."
Ravager looks blankly at him while she takes her own drag off her claimed cigarette, smoking like a pro. "Too bad. You did good work, from what I hear," she says, casually. Now it's her turn to shrug her shoulder, "But, to each their own. Hell. I'm joining the Young Avengers, apparently. So we'll see how long that little carnival ride will last." She snorts, once - apparently not believing for one reason or another that she'll be on the team long.
She glances down at the costume, nods. "Lightweight. Vibranium's too pricey. And too weighty for the superior mobility, which I prefer. Been meeting a lot of you, lately." Vigalantes she means.
He chuckles at that. "I'm -still- good at what I do. I just fill more hospital beds then I do bodybags." He brushes his fingers back through his hair, watching her from the bench he lounges on. "Young Avengers, huh? Bet that comes with perks -and- strings. Teams always do. Like families."
"Well, we're a dime a dozen in New York, you know? And don't you fall into the same description? A vigilante? Don't you fight crime without the consent of a government? Boom. Vigilante." The Red Hood takes another drag.
"Sometimes," Ravager agrees. "Girl has bills to pay. Mercenary work pays well. I'm just selective." She takes another long drag off the cigarette, and blows a smokering out into the air. "Ran into another loser the other night. Nightwing. Thought he was 'saving' me from a bunch of mafia hitmen." She snorts.
"He got in the way, more than he helped." Meaning, he prevented her from outright slaughtering them. It's all about perception, isn't it? "Whatever. I don't care. I wasn't paid to take them out. Just to protect the girl. Anyways."
She moves on, inviting herself to sit on the bench near him, and finish the last bit of her cigarette before tossing it to the ground, "City's still going to hell." She half-laughs at that.
He nods to the comment about mercenary work. "I can respect that. I tend to just take money off the crooks. I'm not rolling in cash, but I get by." He shrugs a bit, flicking the butt of his cigarette aside. His eyes follow her as she moves and settles in beside him. "Yeah, I know him," he grunts. "We have a …touchy history. I don't hate the guy, though. Anymore, anyways. But he's way too much of a goody two-shoes, if that makes sense. His heart is in the right place, even if he's a fucking idiot about it half the time. We've butted heads more then once…"
He smirks at that last bit and joins her laugh with his.
"Told him I'm going to beat his ass. We're going to fight soon. Should be fun," Ravager says offhandedly. She then considers Red Hood more directly, "And what about you? You said you had a change of heart. That mean you're like the Grinch, and you grew it ten times?" She smirks, then.
"Here's hoping you get him a good ass kicking," he says with a small chuckle. He doesn't want Dick dead, but does feel he could use a nice kick in the teeth, perhaps. He smirks right back at her and shakes his head. "It's complicated. I was trying to control the criminal world through murder and guiding it. Figured it was more reasonable then -fighting- crime. I was pretty brainwashed and manipulated, though. I was being used by the Hand." He rolls a shoulder. "Got out of the game for a few years and decided to approach it all a little more traditonally." It's obvious there is a lot more to the story.
"Ah." Ravager shakes her head, "I'd have to agree, then. You were doing it wrong." She doesn't go into further detail, but does not, "Despite that, you did make quite a reputation for yourself. Reputation, fear, and intimidation go a long ways. That's one thing the damn Bat has, at least."
She considers, lips twisting some in thought. "Ever work with Deadpool? Now there's a fucking weirdo. Damn good. But, man he's whacked out."
"It does," he grunts. "And…he does, yeah. He works hard to keep it a very specific reputation, too." His tone belies that he might have some kind of connection to the Batman. If he has a connection to Nightwing it might make sense. He furrows his brow at the mention of Deadpool, and he shakes his head.
"Never heard of him, no. The name is kinda tryhard, though. But eh, I wear a red helmet and a fuckin' motorcycle jacket, so who am I to mock?"
"So I noticed," agrees Ravager, smartly. "You need to find richer criminals to fight," she snarks, now that the conversation has turned towards costumes. "I hope you at least have padding."
And, Ravager being who she is, moves to sucker-punch Jason hard, in the kidneys. Maybe to test his reflexes. Maybe to check his costume.
He shrugs non-commitaly at that. It might turn out that certain criminals end up with bank accounts siphoned, with the majority of the money ending up in the accounts of certain charities, orphanages or programs. Maybe. "I get by. Besides, a bunch of old arcade cabinets totally fell off a truck when this arcade in the neighborhood I grew up in shut down. Got 'em all setup in my hideout. Who needs a million bucks when you've got that?" He grins a hint, glancing over at her.
With the sudden lunge he moves with peak human ability. Really, he moves with the kind of speed a human shouldn't -have-. He moves back and up, landing in a crouch at the opposite end of the bench, a kukri drawn from his belt in one smooth, blurred motion. Almost inhuman, in fact.
"So, that's how you flirt?," he grunts.
"Depends," Ravager says mildly, "You're fast." But her analytical mind is already processing the information. "But I've beat faster." There's confidence in her words, and she grins, slyly at that before leaning back comfortably on the bench and crossing her ankles as her legs strech out, her fingers lacing behind her head and long white hair.
"Never had time for arcade games."
"Eh, you make time for fun or you lose your goddamn mind," he grunts. He sits down on the armrest of the bench, facing her as she lounges back. "All work, no play, you know." He fishes out his pack of cigarettes and tosses her one, while he lights up his own. He then leans forward, partially over her, if she wants to light her own the same way again. He's careful, though, watching for a jab or similar.
No more jabs come from her, "Oh, I enjoy myself. Plenty. I do what I want. When I want. To whomever I want." Ravager offers Jason a savage grin of superiority. It would seem Nightwing isn't the only one who has an ego problem. Not that either of them aren't mostly justified.
"I'm the life of the party, Red Hood. Only question is, do you get an invite or not?" She smoothly pushes herself up, effortlessly from the lounging position into a standing, easy position ready for action.
He arches an eyebrow at that reply and smirks a bit. He sits back and watches her as she rises like that, and he cocks his head to the side. He takes another drag of his cigarette and flicks it aside, partially smoked. The man rises to his feet and takes a few steps away from the bench, watching her movements closely. "I am the party, Ravager," he replies with a soft chuckle.
Ravager snorts, "Maybe. We'll see. Got a number? Maybe next time I'm going to go bash some faces in, I'll give you a call. See if you're right." She crosses her arms over her chest and doesn't appear to be doing anything to take a method of contact down.
He chuckles and nods. He recites a number to her, figuring she'll just remember it if she isn't making a move to jot it down. He then reaches down and scoops up his helmet. "Sounds like fun. I'd be down for that sometime." Jason glances down at his helmet before he fastens it on. There's a hiss and click as it sets into place.
Ravager memorizes it, instantly, and then lifts a hand. "Have fun, Red. See you soon." And, she begins to stalk off, to where her motorcycle was parked - left there from meeting her client not too far away. "Keep the party going until then."