Summary:Cassandra wakes up Alex to spend a night out on the town. It comes with punching. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Twice now has Alex encountered the dark, silent figure that goes by Orphan. The slight, vaguely feminine form had took him on an interesting run around the city the other night. His ability to keep up with her on the rooftops without the use of swinglines and de-cel cable seemed to intrigue her. They intervened on a few muggings that they encountered but the area round NYU isn't Staten Island. It's a hell of a lot safer.
But the past couple of nights, there's been no sign of her, and Alex can't exactly call her up on her phone. Maybe he should have tried shining a light in the sky? Who knows. It's to be expected then, at this late hour, that he's in bed. Asleep. And the last thing he's likely to expect is a gloved hand closing over his mouth just firmly enough to stifle any reactive cries of surprise.
The window is open, curtains dancing at the light breeze that has followed the dark figure in. The yellow markings on Orphan's costume are little more than grey markings in the darkness. Crouched down next to Alex's bed, Orpha's masked, hooded figure is only perhaps a foot away. With her free hand, she raises a finger to where her lips presumably are. Shhhh.
When he slept, he slept peacefully. One small aspect of the youth's abilities, the lack of at rest anxiety, of tension. And nightmares are things that fear his attention, not he them. Yet as he lay there on the bed, sprawled upon his back, head turned to the side. The single lone sheet having slithered down his chest as he had moved with what dreams may. He looked almost angelic.
Perhaps it was the way the diaphanous fabric was draped over his bare form, one well-formed leg having slid free of the restraint of it, the curve of his hip and muscular torso lending an almost classical look to the young man as if he were wearing the robe or toga of his ancestors. His arms above him almost haphazard, he looked so at peace.
And then her gloved hand rested upon his lips and he took only a moment to return from dreams. Those bright blue eyes open and she'll see that initial bolt of body language. Tension, gather, leap! All the sentiments spoken in that instant as his eyes sharpen ready to fight…
But it is her. And in the space of the next heartbeat it all drains from him. She can see it in his eyes, the warmth, the affection. The small catch of breath. The smile under her hand. Then his hand will find hers, the sheets rasping as he sits up a little. Gently pulling her hand free though not letting go immediately for whatever reason.
A whispered, "Hi."
There's a turn of phrase used to compliment someone's physique. Of having a body 'like a Greek god'. There's not 'like' in this case but even with it on display, Orpha's attention seems to be on those bright blue eyes. Though, he can't really be certain how long she's been there, can he? Hopefully she didn't go through his things!
She doesn't resist as he pulls her hand from his mouth, objective achieved in not having him wake the rest of his household. She doesn't try to tug her hand free as he holds onto it, her other hand dropping from her own lips to be held up palm-out and fingers together and then rotated to the side a bit in a sharply gestured wave. Hi, indeed.
Orphan turns her head, nodding to the window before looking back to him and tilting to the side in mute question. She doesn't have his air of playfulness, and even the last time they 'went out' she seemed more directed, focused, than Alex might have been.
His eyes flit to the window, then back to her. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze and then answers with a murmured, "Yes." Though he pushes himself a little more upright. He touches a hand to the sheet and starts to pull it away, yet she'll see the tension return to him briefly as he says quietly. "Could you… turn around?" He holds up a hand and gestures for her to do so.
And what is that thing she sees at times with people? Modesty? Curious she has /never/ seen it on him before, that particular emotion. And the faint way his pale skin colours along his cheeks and chest. Even when she does turn around, however, he takes the sheet with him when he starts to rise, easing one leg off the bed and then holding it to him.
He'll walk across the room, trailing that long sheet like some ghostly golden image and she'll see him step over to a small pile of clothes and shoes set out. Just in case of seeing her again. All black, of course. But nothing fancy or anything that could pass as a costume. Combat boots, black canvas pants, a black t-shirt without a logo. He'll shuffle with them into the small bathroom connected to his room and says over his shoulder. "I'll be just a second."
Then into the bathroom where the door closes on his sheet. But at least he's all clear now.
A few minutes later and he'll emerge, ready to go.
There's that slight cant of her head as Alex pauses and then asks her to turn around. There's no signs of amusement, no huff of laughter, only a brief pause and then she's rising to her feet as though pulled up by strings. Effortless. Flowing. She turns around, giving him her back, and then steps over to some of the items he has on display in his room. When he speaks, she turns about enough to look over at him, which might clue him in to the fact she's likely not deaf. She gives a nod, seeming to understand his intent and as the door closes she figures she doesn't need to stay turned around. Which gives her a bit more freedom to peruse his room. The fact that it's dark doesn't seem to bother her.
When he re-emerges, the tilt of her head implies she's looking him over before giving him a nod and, without a word, she slips over to his now-open window and eases out of it as though it were a legitimate exit. Despite the fact it's three floors up and there's no landing or fire escape out there.
Balancing on the thin ledge outside his window, Orphan waits until Alex can see her before she points up towards the roof of the building and then to him as she cocks her head.
There isn't quite the separation of motion than one might expect of someone trying to 'speak'. It's not 'Up. You. Question.' The tilt of her head comes amidst the pointing from the roof to Alex.
The room is not deeply decorated, though it is kept fairly tidy. She'll see a hamper in the corner with sooo many t-shirts in it and jeans and boxers and socks. There's a desk where his backpack rests with a few historical texts spread out on the surface as well as a spiral notebook. Above that desk is a white board with just two entries right now,
1. Find Dr. Strange.
2. Help Fenris
Though along the wall next to the bathroom she'll see a small chest of drawers that has upon it a shrine of a sort, with a Japanese style frame for a katana and a wakizashi, though the larger blade is absent. The smaller is very plain in style, black on black.
But there is one thing of sentiment she might find in a picture frame that still has a price tag on it, perhaps purchased recently. Just the torn ticket stub of his trip to the Friends of the Met, placed in that frame with no fanfare and set on that desk.
And then he was out and smiling to her, garbed head to foot in black or grey. He returns her nod and follows her to the window, slipping out into the brisk night. She gestures and his eyes follow the line. A nod is given as he starts to climb up the two stories needed to get to the rooftop. quick movements, leaping to catch the small outcropping of a window above, planting a foot and wedging himself in to give himself enough of a support to make a leap upwards. Not otherworldly in strength or the like, just quick precise movements.
Until his hands curl over the rooftop's ledge and he flips himself up with a near silent twist and landing.
Cassandra Cain's gloved fingers ghost over some of the items in the room. His desk. His books. The whiteboard with it's markings gets barely a glance. Though if Barbara decides to pull the footage on her costume's optics, she might find it interesting.
Equally the ticket goes unnoticed. Since she snuck in, it isn't even familiar. That important milestone to Alex gets nary a glance from the darkly clad figure.
The weapon stand does get some interest, the short sword picked up and half-drawn, tilted to get a look at the edge and then returned as Alex emerges. There's no hurry, no guilt in her mannerisms for touching his things.
Orphan makes it quickly and easily to the top. Her costume has some added extras for just this type of thing and she has practice on her side. As Alex joins her, she turns to face him and her head turns one way. Then another. Then she gestures with her hand, fingers splayed and palm facing her in a circle a few inches in front of her face.
Giving a short thoughtful nod, Alexander steps towards her and folds his arms over his chest. She can see the thoughtfulness in his eyes as well as the smile as they distance and he hmmms to himself, looking to the side then the other way. Then his eyebrows lift and he holds up a finger and points just a bit beyond her shoulder.
And should she look he'll lightly tap her shoulder with a faint 'thap', perhaps knowing at this point that if she's watching him… she'd never fall for it.
And with that he breaks to the side into a /ruuuuun/, moving along the line of those tall brownstones into what some would find an intimidating obstacle course. But for them is just practice.
And for the first half hour, their time is spent in this blur of movement and hustle, rushing along the rooftops each silhouetted against the moon in the night sky. At times taking turns being the aggressor and the defender, the predator and the prey. At one point she's a shadowy ghost and he finds himself seemingly alone on a rooftop only for her to get the drop on him. And at another she may well rush around a corner in time to have him balanced precariously on a ledge above as he drops!
But at that end of that half hour, he might well have a small bruise on his cheek from when they got carried away. Or a scuff on his knee with a faint tear to the pants leg. But he's still smiling.
And by that time they're no longer near NYU, but further North having made some distance. So much so that he pauses on the edge of a ledge and crouches, brow furrowing as he tries to place where they are. A curious look is given her way…
But then a small convoy of three black SUVs rolls along the road below them, and at this time of night… that is a rarity.
And were they a pair of normal people and he were going 'what is that?!', Cassandra wouldn't likely fall for it. If 'fall' is the right term. What she gets from him is a desire for her to turn away while he runs. She's not sure *why*, but she does so. And doesn't seem surprised when he's fled. To her, the fact that he wants her to chase is clear, if puzzling.
As they work their way over the rooftops and through the city, Cassandra plays along but for a reason likely very different from Alex. She's trying to figure out *why*. What he finds so appealing. In those moments when it's her 'turn' to ambush him, she asks. With fists and feet. She asks her question, again and again, harder and faster as his reply is a fierce sort of joy. She's not trying to hurt him, just feeling his skill out, raising the level of their 'conversation'.
In the end, the answer gives her no more enlightenment. Because the answer seems to be 'you'.
As they finally come to a rest, Orphan looks untouched. Of course, her costume is more resilient than his clothes, and any bruising would be hidden. Save Alex knows he didn't manage a solid hit on her.
Orphan has swung up to sit on the edge of the roof's parapet wall when the SUVs roll by. The line of her shoulders stiffens as her gaze tracks it, and she taps near her ear, a silent query put out to Barbara's Oracle for any alerts on the system.
Likely there is on intel fed back, the travel time of the vehicles having been in transition only a handful of minutes though she'll get intel on the license plates belonging to a livery company that apparently doesn't do much business and is likely a tax shelter of some kind.
Not that Cass would find it useful. But Alexander stands up and turns to her, his brow furrowing as he says, "Someone in there is very afraid." He nods towards the middle SUV as it rolls past. She perhaps cannot understand his words, but she can read the tension and concern in his manner. And then he breaks off into a run…
Only now there is no playfulness to him. There is no hesitation. And as he makes a leap across a lower rooftop, his lithe powerful young body twists through the air with such precision. And he lands in a roll, shoulder absorbing the impact and coming back to his feet to continue.
She had seen him before, fighting at the society ball. And the way he moved then was similar. But this might be the first time she can see him as focused as her. Without hesitation. With a control of his body that rivals many she has seen.
Those three SUVs pull into a parking garage, their lights slicing over the sign in front as they pull in. Their tail lights fade into the depths of the place and from view. But Alexander doesn't hesitate to pursue, as if he knows that when someone is that afraid… there is a very good reason.
He drops to the top level of that parking garage, moving quickly to the stairwell. And he fully expects that she has entirely kept up with him. Because all night she has.
How much of what Oracle gives back to Orphan she actually understands is sort of up in the air. The Bat types have the best idea of anyone of how she communicates, but it's still sort of guesswork in how to best talk to her. Some of Oracle's information is imparted via an ASL 'translator', combined with images on Orphan's HUD. But words like 'tax shelter' has zero meaning to Orphan and one thing the Oracle system is not, is exceptionally creative.
When Alex speaks, Cassandra's attention shifts over to him, silently watching as he focuses. Her attention turns down to the vehicles, but she doesn't get a lot of information off of them she hasn't already. Formation, speed, time of day, and location already flagged it as suspicious.
Orphan's attention turns back to Alex as he starts to move, following after him without pause. She's on his heels like a shadow, dark and silent.
The stairs down are taken quickly, half hip-sliding down the railing and then half rolling over and landing silently to the next landing below. He only stops for a half moment as he looks across the way, seeing or feeling something she is not privy to, then he tells her quickly. Quietly. "They've stopped."
They're on the second floor, and he moves to the edge of the doorway. A glance is taken and there are relatively few cars in the lot. Perhaps six in total staggered about and then the three of the convoy are parked near the edge. Men are already filing out. Seven of them in suits of reasonable tailoring, most above six feet in height and looking severe. Two of them have plastic suits on from head to food in white, and they seem to be carrying openly drawn machetes.
But the last two are the ones that likely catch attention, for one is a grim monstrous looking man as if he were simultaneously wizened and dessicated yet so very animate as he moves with a grinning leer on his face. The other is a nebbish bespectacled man who already looks as if he had been beaten severely, bruises and contusions are clear on his face and he's sobbing. Words are exchanged, quiet and far off.
Alexander's removed from his pocket a piece of black fabric and is tying it around his features, creating a makeshift mask as he watches from his vantage point. He looks to her, eyebrow quirking as if asking how he looks, then nods and motions in one direction. He's going that way. And he does.
Cassandra Cain crowds into Alex's personal space to peer out of the door with him, taking in the situation and her head turns slightly as she looks back to Alex. After all, he's the one that stopped and he's sort of 'leading' here, so she figures he has cause that she doesn't understand.
The plastic suits, the machetes, those speak a pretty clear intent to Orphan, and when Alex motions her off in one direction she finally decides that enough is enough.
Knees flex and the dark, silent shadow is charging right for the group of men. Even though they're like twice her size and if you assume the beaten man isn't on opponent, ten-to-one odds. At least until Alex joins in.
Alexander breaks to the left and uses two of those vehicles as cover, closing with them and perhaps assuming that she'll wait. Cass does not wait. When he looks over and sees her making a b-line straight for them, his eyes widen. Then he shakes his head quickly and flips over the hood of the car, coming at them from the side while she charges.
"It's important to send a message," Says the leering man as he pats the bespectacled one on the back gently. "Certain aspects of decorum must be maintained. I hope you understand." The men with the machetes pull up their face masks and say, "Right boss," Both of them together simultaneously.
The man with the glasses trembles as he shies away from those two, enough that one grabs him and holds him steady.
And that's when they see her, "What?" Faces turn, features focus. She's seen it many times before, that first wash over them of surprise where she has the greatest edge and the most opportunity even as she leaps within range.
The back-and-forth with Alex all night was play, even if Cassandra is sort of bad at playing. Neither of them were out to stop the other, just feel out the limits of their ability. Or as close as could be done in that framework. But as she comes in amidst the large men, this is more serious. Though she's no less careful.
The two men in plastic with the weapons are her priority, more because they're right next to the possible victim than because they're armed. Despite her small stature, she still pulls her blows and avoids any blows that would specifically aim to kill.
Broken bones though? Those are apparently OK. There's the *crack* of a knee being forced to bend sideways, which it totally isn't meant to do and in the same fluid movement she's rising higher and breaking the arm holding the machete of the other man.
The two rush in and leap almost as one. Though Orphan has the edge in speed. The men suffer under her initial onslaught as the eyes are on her, focus drawn to the hurtling slim figure in black that rushes them. Weapons are reached for, coats ripped open as they go for their guns all while the leering man suddenly becomes the reeling man as he falls back three steps letting his bodyguards protect him.
And then they hit, Alexander taking the first two men to the side, planting a viciously uncoiled sidekick into the jaw of one of those men reaching for their weapon, his head snapping to the side as a spatter of blood and consciousness flees from him while he falls to the ground. The next is met with a heavy tackle as he almost had the pistol drawn and was tracking towards Orphan. They land in a heap with Alexander pinning his arm with one knee and then firing two quick punches at his temple and jaw. Two down.
Gone is the playfulness in that youth. No longer is he affecting any type of stance or form. His approach to actual conflict is much like her own. Direct lines, impact, with no wasted movement.
Sharp cracks sound through the parking garage as she lashes out. The first one in plastic going down and shrieking about his knee, the machete dropped with a metallic clatter. The other had tried to take a swing with the weapon at her back only for her to step back, grab his wrist and pull it down sharply over her shoulder, shattering the elbow and relieving him of the weapon with another clatter.
The spooky faced man turns and starts to /run/ away while the man with the glasses falls on his rear, scuttling back and shocked at the sudden change of the situation. But the five other men remaining are bringing their weapons to bear and several fire, their pistols barking as they don't seem to care if they might hit their friends around her.
What's most notable about Orphan as she fights isn't what she does, but what she doesn't do. As the two men in plastic go down and are out of the fight, she doesn't turn about to reassess. As Alex joins the fight, she doesn't pause. It's like she's Groundhog Day'd this already, and knows where everyone is and will be. When the weapons are pulled she dosn't duck for cover or flinch away. In fact she just keeps moving onto the next suited man.
Pistols are a lot easier to deal with than automatic weapons. Just one trajectory on each to deal with. Orphan punches the first man, and it's almost amusing to see a small woman drop someone in a heap with one punch. Then she's tripping another as a gunshot fires, the bullet passing through where the second man would have been. A kick and that one's out. Lucky for him he was already on the ground. A batarang is thrown to make a third drop their weapon as Orphan is moving out of the way of the shot of a fourth.
Between Phobos and Orphan, it's only a handful of moments before all of the large men are on the ground. Most unconscious and others wishing they were. Orphan gives a glance about, standing in the middle of the bodies, and doesn't seem like she's going to tear off after the withered man. Instead, she looks over to Alex again. Her head tilts a bit as though to ask 'what now?'
Sure. NOW she'll take direction.
"Haaahaaaahaaaaa, *gasp* *wheeze*," Is heard as the wizened man tries to run and in the flurry of blows and whirlwind of movements has only made it… thirty feet. But he is the last one up and functional, besides the man in the glasses who is scurrying away.
Alexander gains his feet fully and turns towards her and he scoops up one of the fallen firearms, ejecting the clip and the round in the magazine with a quick click and a practiced motion. Then he turns and sort of looks at her as if to say, 'are you ok with this?' but she likely isn't sure of what he has in mind…
And then he whings the pistol into the back of the fleeing older man's head, knocking him clean out and making him collapse in a heavy _whumpf_. A whumpf that makes Alex wince as if pained himself.
He then turns to the man with the glasses, "You should probably run, we'll call the police." His lower features hidden by that curious black mask that really makes him just look like… the Heavy in a Lone Ranger episode. Sans hat.
"Ye-yes-yes of course!" And the man breaks away.
And for a moment it leaves them there, the unconscious and broken men silent as they… had been thorough. He looks to her across the way and seems as if he wants to say something but then he turns and rushes off and away.
A spring towards the wall of that parking garage and then a hop over the side and onto the fire escape beyond, letting them ascend to the next building over when the clouds above start to break with beadlets of rain beginning to fall around them.
Once she rejoins them he smiles, turning to her and undoing the knot at the back of his neck, removing the mask as he starts to extend a hand towards her. But stops himself. And instead he just says those three words to her that she's heard before. "You are amazing."
Cassandra Cain turns towards Alex as he asks that question, because to her he *is* asking, and while she doesn't answer she doesn't look surprised as he sends the unwieldy missile at the mummy. Instead she lifts a hand, palm down and waggles it back and forth a bit. Looks like the Russian judge is giving our athlete a low score. There's a slight lift of her shoulders that might indicate a degree of mirth, though.
As Alex speaks with the only man capable of walking out of the garage at the moment, Orphan taps two fingers against her ear twice, signaling Oracle to put a call out to the police. Then she's grabbing her batarang and ziptying the badguys for the police's convenience.
And then she and Alex are leaving, even as the wails of sirens can be heard in the distance. This isn't Staten Island. Police response times are much better here. As the pair finish their escape, Cassandra eases down to sit on some of the rooftop machinery, watching Alex in his enthusiasm. Light glistens on the dark fabric of Orphan's uniform where it should be matte, even before the rain starts to patter down.
In the partial shelter of that rooftop's alcove, close to the industrial air conditioner. It is safe in part from prying eyes. As the vehicles below cast bright blue and red lights upon the walls of those buildings so nearby, and the rain falls around them. She can see him step towards her. Just a single step as he lifts a hand, giving in to that impulse. His inner brow is knit together, beetled and rising upwards. There's a tension in him, a hesitance. His lips part as he draws a breath.
Then he meets where her eyes would be and he says to her quietly, "I." His smile appears faint, just at the corner of his mouth. But he knows that words mean nothing, are useless in this moment. And then he smiles as she can read him entirely, he knows this now.
So then he closes that distance just enough to hold up his hand and lightly touch her cheek if she allows. And then gestures with his free hand as if to say, 'May I?' For though he finds himself so taken with her, he has not yet seen her features free of that darkened mask.
Cassandra Cain's head tilts down, one gloved hand touching briefly at that shiny spot on her uniform before Alex's aborted words bring her head back up. He can't see the track of her eyes, how they search his face at his expression and the tension that draws the lines of his body taut.
As that word is cut off and he smiles, there's the soft huff of breath in the briefest of laughs as she's amused along with him. When he reaches for her face, she reaches up to push the hood back, leaving just the cowl that covers her entire head. He can pick out the line of stitches where most would have the lower portion of the mask open. She's still under his touch, and when he asks for permission, she reaches up with one hand to tap him lightly on the nose, leaving behind a smudge of red turned black in the shadows.
There's a small smile as he looks between where her eyes might be and then she reaches up to lightly tap his nose… his will crinkle as if she had caused him to be ticklish or threaten a sneeze, one finger rubbing at that spot.
Then he blinks at the faint smear of blood and he frowns. "You're hurt!" It's an instant change, concern, worry. Fear? His bright blue eyes seek hers and he says gently, "I thought they couldn't touch you."
But then he straightens up and takes her hand as if she needed his help, and starts to turn. "Do you… how do you guys handle this?" He bites his lower lip and then says quietly.
"C'mon I have a first aid kit at home." Since that solution… won't compromise her at the least. And if she'll follow him, he'll rush off.