Summary:Helena runs into someone who goes by 'Catman' and is miraculously not (so far) related to her. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Helena tried to bring up the idea of enrolling at SHIELD Academy with her parents, and it didn't go particularly well. Which definitely explains why she's gone out on patrol on her own tonight. She has things to prove.
Tonight, she's picked out a spot near some of the high end stores in town, the sorts of places often hit by skilled thieves. There was probably some rationale behind it when she made the choice. Or maybe she was just tired of beating up drug dealers and human traffickers and decided to hit some easier prey.
Regardless of why, she's picked out the edge of a rooftop across from Tiffany's, just a deeper shade of shadow than the night around her.
The alarm was skillfully cut, and if it wasn't Helena keeping an eye on the place, nobody would even know there was a thief sneaking out. Well, almost nobody. The side door to the shop opens quietly, and she can clearly see two thieves slip out. Each is dressed all in black, with ski masks and satchels likely filled with stolen diamonds and jewelry. One tucks an electronics kit (Probably for the alarm) into their side bag, and they begin to sneak towards a car parked at the end of the alleyway.
Meanwhile, out of view of the woman and the thieves, waits another predator. Catman is crouched at the corner of his own building, sighing as he thumbs through Tinder on his phone. His cape idly flaps about his ankles, and he adjusts his brown cowl before he glances up, noticing movement. "Heh. Alexei Alexov…you idiot. That bounty is going to taste so, so sweet."
He glances between the two, pondering which one is the mark who made the decision to betray some wealthy supervillain. WHoever it was that paid him tonight. Either way, he has no idea that another masked individual is eyeing the same targets for completely other reasons.
Important reasons! Like proving she can be sneakier than other people. Or having an excuse to beat someone up. Helena sits up a little straighter when she sees movement at the store, adjusting the sight through her contacts. Those…look like some thieves. Perfect.
She aims a grappling gun across the street to the next building, firing it off even as she's already leaping from the edge of the building. (Nobody tell Dick.) She doesn't aim for in front of the thieves, though. Instead, she swings near-silently into the shadows behind them, rolling as she hits the ground to bleed off momentum and hide her approach.
The crooks have no idea a Batlet is nearby…or a Catman, for that matter. One snarls something to the other in Russian, and the other replies. One is masculine and the other feminine, likely, by the voices. If Helena knows Russian, she can catch an argument on whether they should have risked this robbery, or taken the train to Baltimore tonight.
Meanwhile, Catman leaps from one building to the other, landing in skilled and graceful rolls, soon landing on the roof overlooking the alley.
This is when Catwoman's whip is something that comes in handy. But Blackbird isn't quite ready to break into that particular field yet. Not that she hasn't trained with it some, it's just…that's Mom's, and it comes with all sorts of weird connotations that she doesn't need to deal with.
What she does have is batarangs. And even some specialty ones that work like bolas. She pulls one out of her belt, splitting the pair slightly before flicking it toward the nearest crook with a bag. Halfway there the bats split and start to spin, reeling out wire between them to entrap ankles.
The woman cries out in surprise and topples. Catman blinks, seeing a flash of the bat-shaped bola. He grits his teeth. Damnit. He knew that by operating in Staten Island he'd have to deal with that pompous, pointy-eared annoyance at some point, but already? Ugh, fine.
Just as the male burglar breaks into a spring, leaving the woman behind, Catman descends. With a flurry of cape, he comes down hard, his boot slamming into the man's shoulder and not only breaking Catman's fall…but the man's collar bone with a dull crunch.
In the dim alleyway it is VERY easy to think that the big, cowled and cloaked shape is Batman…even if that was a surprising amount of brutality for him. At the other end of the alleyway, he picks up the gasping and groaning Russian thief and tosses him, head over ass, into the side of a dumpstr. The flops to the ground, very unconcious…and hurt.
Blackbird pauses for a moment as she sees the shape that comes down, brows furrowing in the shadow of her hood. It doesn't take long to check, though. The bats track each other, and a change in the settings on her visual shows her that the other figure in the alley is definitely not Batman.
While Catman is breaking bones and throwing people into dumpsters, Blackbird is over by the woman with zip ties, restraining her matter-of-factly. When she's done, she straightens up, giving the stranger a long, cautious look.
Good news: This doesn't appear to be an actual bat. She's all in black, with armor that matches the bats, but she wears a hood instead of a cowl, with a mask over the lower part of her face and a cape that hides most of the form beneath it. Gauntlets hide her hands, and golden eyes peer out from the depth of the shadows in her hood.
Once Dmitri is very unconcious, the figure straightens and turns towards Blackbird. He steps further into the light and she gets a real look. He's tall and muscular, with a costume that is…a lot like Batman's. Or, at least, like his a few years back. The cape is tattered at the edges, and the main costume or orange, with the red slash symbols across his chest. Finally, the ears are cat ears. The stubble is also blonde.
"Vigilantes are a dime a dozen in this town, aren't they?," he grunts.
"Something like that," Blackbird replies. Even her voice is noticeably altered. Whoever she is, she isn't fooling around with the secrecy. "Although most of them try to avoid actually breaking people." She moves toward the dumpster, going to peek in and make sure that the would-be thief is actually still alive.
"You look a little too weathered to be new around here." Yeah, she totally just called him old.
"Never said I was a vigilante," he replies with a smirk. He gestures to her and the safely bound criminal at her feet. "You clearly are, though. Hell, I plan on keeping whatever it is this guy stole…" He picks up the unconcious man's bag and peers inside. "…Mn. No idea for worth. He went for the shiny stuff. Some of this'll sell, but not half as much as he thought. What a waste."
He lifts his gaze to her again. "Been at this a long time. Just getting back into town, though."
"So you're…a thief-mugger?" Blackbird translates, a note of amusement in her voice as she continues closer. Casual. "Or a thief who lacks the skills to actually break into a place themselves, so waits for other thieves to do it and then hits them instead of the difficult target?" Yeah, that sounds more like Catwoman than Batman, for sure.
"A fence coming out of retirement?" Even from the shadows of her hood, the corners of her eyes crinkle with amusement. "The fence market that hard these days?"
"None of the above, but fun guesses." He chuckles softly. The man on the groans groans softly, and the man replies by delivering a firm kick to the man's jaw, knocking him out…and breaking a tooth or two. "This man betrayed a masked villain that I'm not going to name. Said masked villain wants to get his grubby paws on him, so he put out a call and…here I am." He shrugs his wide, muscled shoulders.
Blackbird seems to consider that for a moment, head tilting. On the one hand, letting people get hurt is bad. On the other hand, it's bad guys hurting bad guys. And on the sensible hand, she's not really one hundred percent sure she can stop him if she tries.
"So…the store's property isn't really part of your plan, then," she points out, as if it's sensible.
"Nah. Perks of the job, though," he says with a smirk. He glances over at the woman at Blackbird's feet. "You can keep her if you want. Didn't put a marker on her." He idly rolls the man on the floor over and then leans down, tieing his wrists and ankles. "I'm Catman, by the way," he says without looking up. His tone says he is wearing a perfectly straight face when he says it, though.
"That's a choice." Blackbird's words are neutral, but it covers a few moments of extra thought. Does she know a Catman? Does a Catman know either of her parents? Is this some weird criminal relation? These things happen sometimes.
"So, not to make this weird or awkward or anything, but I can't really let you go with the stolen stuff," she says, holding out a hand. Start with the small stuff, right?
She may or may not have heard her parents cursing the name of Catman. In all honesty, he probably hasn't crossed either parent's mind in years, if at all. He blinks when she holds her hand out like that, and he laughs softly.
"Really? You want to go down this route with me?" He looks down at the bag of stolen goods and considers for a moment before he glances back up at her. "Wanna complicate your life this much?"
"I mean, it's not at the top of my list of fun things to do," Blackbird answers honestly, shrugging. "But I can't really just…let you go. It's frowned upon in the vigilante community. And also sort of opposite of the whole point of the vigilante thing. Would you rather play a game of chess?"
She doesn't sound like she expects that to work, but hey, might as well try!
He laughs a bit at that, and he considers for a moment. "You know what? You look good enough in that outfit that I'll just let you keep it this time." It sounds like he's trying to flirt, but it likely comes off a bit gross, considering the situation. Possibly.
He tosses the bag of stolen goods towards her before he glances down at the man at his feet. "Never got your name."
Small victories. "Blackbird," she answers, leaning down to scoop up the bag without looking away from him. Sure, it's a little weird. But possibly more sad. Hitting on teenage girls in costume before going to beat someone up for a bad guy? That's pretty sad.
"Thanks." She looks like she's still thinking about things. Like she's trying to figure out how far she can push things and just how she can push them. But maybe not the bset idea.
Catman is a pretty sad invidual, honestly. He's a damn afterschool special, really. 'Don't skip school or you end up a sad, formerly alcohol miscreant who lives with Lions and murders poachers and beats up folks for money' or something.
He grunts at her thanks and reaches down, scooping the unconcious man up like he weighs nothing, before tossing him over his shoulder.
Blackbird watches for another moment, frowning behind her mask as the desire to help wars with the training that tells her to be smart about it. "Hey," she finally calls after him. "I get that you've been around the block a few times and you obviously aren't looking for tips or anything, but…You're too good to run errands for stupud guys in masks. Just saying."
He chuckles. "I'm not some minion. I'm a freelancer. I acquire people that need acquiring. Better then what I used to be doing," he grunts. With that he turns and begins to walk off down the street.
"Keep your nose clean, Blackbird."
"Highly-paid minion for hire," Blackbird offers, that note of amusement in her voice again. "Try not to get downsized," she calls after him, eyeing the woman tied up in the street and sighing. "All right, lady. Let's get you and the loot back where the authorities can pick you up."