trans_9 | It's a slippery slope... [closed]

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It's a slippery slope... [closed]

She'd been careful at covering her tracks, but sometimes you can be too careful--sometimes someone notices you taking great pains to not be noticed. Leela slips around a building in the city, and slips out of her Cloak of Disregard. Which was her normal cloak, mind you, but even here she could still do the occasional blood-weave. It's just magic is a time-consuming process, and she isn't fond of relying on it in general so she doesn't make a habit of trying to use it on the ship, but now--right now, it's an ace up her sleeve.

Or was, at any rate.

She's nowhere near where they hid Sam at the moment, but the fact that she's skulking about is enough for the observant onlooker to realize she's sneaking around for some reason.

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Tim watches Leela sneaking around the city. He's been looking for signs of where Sam might be hiding--not that he's really sure what he'll do when (not if) he finds him yet, but... he's looking.

And sneaky-looking girls could definitely lead him to hidden crewmates. He follows her--carefully--via rooftop.

Even in Gotham, no one ever looks up.

Maybe not. But then not everyone is a precog trained in Muahlavani Varzrit that fights harpies and shadow-tails on a regular basis. When teaching her, Monk Sunan had called it the Ayn Anchad. The feeling of being watched. She's a little more sensitive to it than most.

Eventually she skulks to one of the buildings--one without windows, to be specific--and goes in.

"I brought some of my food--" can be faintly heard as she closes the door.

There. And it's time to figure out what he's going to do about Sam. Tim drops to street level, and follows Leela into the building.

It's a small hut kinda thing, some kinda building of worship from some planet, somewhere. It's also rather dark. The only light comes from some sort of phosphorescent red material lining some of the walls and carved into ornamental lamps. It's very tribal in design, with wall hangings and screens all over.

And rafters.

Leela isn't there as he sneaks in.

That's because she's up in the rafters, which is what she swings down from after the door's shut behind him, as she aims a kick for the back of his head. There's not a word as she does it, no snarky remark, not even a gasp of breath.

Something hard and--HARD--strikes the back of Tim's head, and he stumbles forward, staggering a little even as he turns toward the surprise assailant. He's already drawing his staff as he faces... Leela.

He can't believe he got sucker-punched like that. He can almost hear what Bruce would say.

You're getting cocky. Don't ever let your guard down, Robin.

Her scythe is out in half a second, and the attached chain swings out at him hard.

She knows she has to make this fast, while he's still dazed, and rely on her precog--he's got years of fighting on her, so knowing what he's doing next is the only thing that can make up for it.

"It's a little creepy following pretty girls around--anyone ever tell you that, Birdboy?"

"Batman and the first Robin got over it," he grunts, dodging the chain. "You will, too. What's with the sneaking, pretty girl?"

He'll have to dodge the scythe, too, or block it. That's the thing she loves about having a weapon that has two ends you can hurt people with.

"Got in a fight with Cale. I'm trying to avoid him right now."

He blocks with his staff. "Right. And none of this has anything to do with a certain missing crewmember who might be looking for some help right about now? How dumb do you think I am?"

She goes in for a kick to the chest, while his bow is occupied.

"I don't see anyone in here, do you?"

"No." He sidesteps the kick, and swings his staff down to try to knock her other leg out from under her. "Why did you lead me in here?"

"Maybe I was hoping for a fight, a flirt, and a makeout. Make that bastard Cale jealous."

She hits the ground, but while she's down there, moves to sweep his feet out from under him with her leg--almost like she'd been planning it all along.

"I can only imagine what that ass of yours would look like in tights. And what better way to lure in somebody trained by Batman than make 'im think there's a mystery going on?"

He jumps over the sweep. "Trust me--my ass looks great in tights. But A: I don't play games like that, and B: I don't think that's what this is."

She's on her feet again, and puts some distance between them--she's already lost the fight. Well, she hasn't yet but--

She knows she needs a new tack.

Before Tim can move in, she holds her arms open, in a gesture of "go ahead and hit me" and tosses her scythe to the side.

Now he's fighting an unarmed person that's not fighting him, who could conceivably be telling the truth (even if it's not likely), when he has no proof she was doing what he thought she was doing instead of just messing with him like she says.

"What this is, is recognizing when it's time to step up or step aside," she says, calmly.

Tim eyes her warily, but backs off a step. He's still holding his staff in a guard position--she's already shown that she has no trouble with sneak attacks--but he's not throwing down with an unarmed girl who looks like she's calling truce.

"Okay..." he says slowly.

"I got a question for you, Mr. Superhero," Leela asks him. "Do you think that there's ever a time that killing some sonovabitch is the right thing to do?"

Tim frowns deeply. He knows where this is going. "You don't really expect me to help him, do you?"

"I'm asking you to actually think for a minute," Leela answers. "There ever a time you do think it's right? Ever?"

Tim scowls a little. He knows what he should say. What Batman would say. What Nightwing would say.

But.

He remembers what Maxwell Lord had done to Ted Kord. He remembers how he'd felt when he'd watched Wonder Woman kill the man that had killed his friend and who had tried to do even worse.

And he remembers the Joker, and what he had done to Jason Todd--the Jason Todd he'd admired.

And then the Yeerks, and what they had done to him personally, and his friends.

"Maybe," he says grudgingly.

"I don't read the comics that much, but I do know a few things about how it all works for you people," she says. "Tell me: what happens when you bust a bad guy and put 'em in Arkham. How long do they stay there?"

Tim's frown deepens. "It depends," he mutters. But it's never very long. And it's almost like The Joker and inmates like him are there on an at-will basis.

There's something to the revolving door that people claim is installed there.

"What about the Joker? How long does he stay in there?" She adds, making it clear she does know how often he's in and out. "On average."

Tim grits his teeth. "About as long as he wants to."

And no longer.

"How many people does he kill when he gets out?" she asks. "On average."

Tim glares down at the ground between them--because she's right.

"A lot."

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