What's he building in there?

[crusades]

Anyone passing by the hangar at this particular moment will hear the sound of some serious mechanical maintenance; the crackle of welding gear and the hiss of hydraulics. It's a rare indulgence for the current occupant, as intermingled with the bang and clatter of the work permeates a lilting yet bombastic tune that flares from the radio of the craft that he is currently working on.

It was one of Thomas Wayne's favourites and at this time of year, the time of his death, it was all the harder for that little boy that still hid somewhere in the caverns of Bruce Wayne's mind to ignore. All the same, he takes great pleasure from hearing it, not that an observer would be able to tell from the usual clenched jaw and eyes hidden impassively behind opaque work goggles.

That's right, even the Bat-goggles come in black. As does the craft on which he toils; an angular, wide-winged jet fighter. Or at least, it used to be, before he began cannibalising the harebrained concoction of alien technologies that had in the past been used in the designs for the Justice League Satellite and its squadron of shuttlecraft, in order to make his personal plane spaceworthy.

Anyone who wants to talk may, but they'd do well to address the Batman from a fair distance. A blowtorch and years of self-induced psychological conditioning can be a pretty lethal combination.

Comments

[gogopowersuit.livejournal.com]

"Haven't seen that before," Samus was a frequent visitor to the hangar, with her own ship needing work. Spare moments between patrols and time begrudgingly left for sleep were spent here, though she only occasionally ran into other crew members here.

The blond gave a curious glance to the capped crusader. She had met him under other stranger conditions before. Carrying her own heavy toolbox balanced over her shoulder shouldn't seem that odd given their location.

[crusades]

Somehow, he manages to hear her over the din of his work and the Verdi turned up to eleven. He stops what he's doing and turns to look at her, the goggles giving him an uncharacteristically gormless look.

"It was in the back," he replies, recognising the woman who he had last seen protruding from a ventilation shaft, "Stacy knows where I like to keep my equipment, apparently."

[gogopowersuit.livejournal.com]

"She's good with that," One of the few things she was good at in Samus' opinion.

"You haven't been in here before," or at least, Samus hadn't noticed him before, and with the racket he was making, she got the feeling she would.

[better-robin.livejournal.com]

When Damian had heard there was a hangar, he'd wanted to check it out right away. To know what ships were there, of course. It could be a tactical advantage. It had nothing to do with how much he enjoyed working with vehicles or anything. He didn't do things because he enjoyed them.

He paused when he arrived. Someone else was there, and playing music. It wasn't a song he recognized, but the jet was familiar. He wandered further in.

"Father?" he asked, hesitantly.

[crusades]

"No, I haven't," he replies, shuffling through the pile of schematics he has splayed across the floor until he finds the X-Wing specifications General Antilles had provided.

"Neuropathy has been taking up much of my time and I haven't been comfortable leaving it unsupervised," by which he means he's been working, eating and sleeping there, "But now that we have security measures in place, I decided to get myself a hobby."

[crusades]

Now halfway inside the ship itself, he shuts off the welding gear and clambers the rest of the way out, pushing the goggles to rest over his forehead.

"Damian," he replies neutrally, setting the blowtorch aside and striding over to pop the ship's canopoy, "I wonder if you might help me with something?"

[better-robin.livejournal.com]

"Certainly." Damian walks over and crosses his arms, looking curiously over Bruce's shoulder. "What do you need?"

[crusades]

Bruce points out the ignition controls for the various newly-fitted thrusters, "Fire each of these one at a time while I survey from out here. I want to make sure everything's working as I intended."

[gogopowersuit.livejournal.com]

"Made much progress in identifying what parts of Stacy's programming are still corrupted?" Samus was never one to mince words.

[crusades]

"For the most part," Bruce stands up and attempts to wipe some of the oil from his hands, "We established fairly quickly that most of the damage had been caused by the former crew to prevent Stacy from being misused by another party... like pirates."

No, the irony was not lost on him, "They booby-trapped the areas they sabotaged to prevent repairs, which inadvertently gave us a map to the damage when the Major determined how to detect the traps. There are other areas of damage by other causes, but they're a relative minority."

Can you understand now why he thinks he needs a hobby?

[gogopowersuit.livejournal.com]

Samus gives a 'hmph' in return, just her way of giving a totally sincere 'nice job' to the former crew.

"At least it's under control now," Samus was glad for that. They didn't need any more major incidents. Not so soon, at least.

She'll leave Bruce to his work now, balancing her toolbox back over her shoulder. Enough of her freetime had already been used on this "I'll be going then."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

What the hell is it about competent men and tinkering with machines? Batou and the Tachikoma, and Bruce with his...highly modified aircraft that, if her thermal readings were coming off right, was meant to be some kind of stealth fighter. Boys and their toys? Be prepared for anything?

Something like that.

The Major wasn't a loud walker; she could move with complete silence if she liked, but even casually she was quiet, for a full-replacement cyborg. Compared to an ordinary human, her footsteps were unmistakably heavy, the crunch of a ton and a half of weight coming down in an area the size of a human foot. She wasn't bothering to hide her approach, nor the way she stopped and cocked a hip to let her diagnostic scans flash over the data-filters and record his 'artwork.'

"Bored, Bruce?" She tried. She liked to use his name because it possibly annoyed him, and because 'batman' was patently ridiculous.

[crusades]

It had quickly become apparent that stomping was the Major's habit. He had long since dismissed the boastful thudding as she made her rounds of the Neuropathy bay as an attempted assertion of dominance. Though, considering that he was already well aware of the weight that she was carrying, it was just as likely that she did so simply to make known her desire for attention.

His name was another card that she wouldn't get a rise from. It angered him, certainly, though perhaps not for the reason the Major would expect. Had she asked he would have given it, but instead she had acquired the name through intruding on what was for him a very personal moment with a dear friend, as embarrassing as the context was. But he was the Batman, and was not accustomed to letting people know that he actually had feelings of any sort.

"Believe it or not, Motoko," he replies from halfway inside the contraption, his face occasionally lit up by the spark of the welding gear, "I have other commitments besides those in Neuropathy."

All self-appointed, naturally.

Poker face set, he muses, "I thought you would appreciate my absence."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"Contrary to popular thought, personal dissonance isn't actually my primary directive," She shot back, unperturbed. Being stealthy took effort, and in a way her 'stomping' had more to do with simply not giving a damn as much as anything else Bruce might think.

That, and Batou was missing. GlaDOS again.

Clunk. Have a cold can of beer in your workspace, Batman. It's frosty and condensating, covered over with brand-markings in a clearly alien script— where the hell did she get it? The fact that you can tell it's beer at all is a testament to advertisers everywhere. The Major is bored, and this is the path of least pain, "The reward for work well done is the opportunity to do more."

[better-robin.livejournal.com]

Damian nods and walks over to the controls. "Fine. Now?"

[crusades]

A hand stretches out from within the Batwing and retrieves the beer. He wasn't going to tell her that he didn't drink; such a thing wasn't so easy to acquire on this ship and the most likely source required being civil to Lex Luthor. That was a fate he wouldn't wish on anybody, and he did actually appreciate the gesture.

If it came to it, he would just have to pour it into the glove compartment.

"I wasn't accusing you of such," he replies to her first comment. Just one of her secondary directives, then? "I'm just surprised you would come and find me before you would your colleagues from home, or are they otherwise engaged?"

Another hand protrudes from the jet long enough to acquire a handful of the schematics piled outside. A small laugh also escapes when the Major espouses that last strapline.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Major," Somewhere Lex Luthor is getting a bad sensation... "We've been without suitable recon equipment for some time. If I can get this to work as I hope, it might help limit the damage our field teams would otherwise take from a blind deployment."

[crusades]

He makes a quick round of the ship, removing any items that are likely to get scorched, particularly the schematics. When he's content, Bruce puts some distance between the Batwing and himself.

"Now."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"So far as I can tell, they're running mazes for GlaDOS," she admitted. Of course, they could always be snooping around in autistic mode, exploring places they shouldn't. Good men, or dead ones, whenever she found them again.

Watching the schematics disappear into the jet's maw, she dropped her gaze across the rest. Interesting.

"I'm interested to see how it turns out," Being sent in blind was half the fun, wasn't it? Never mind, "You'll be the pilot?"

[crusades]

He'd make a remark about her settling, but figures she wouldn't appreciate it. There's the whine of a power drill.

"I did design and build it," Bruce remarks, finally emerging from its belly, a ruddy picture of oil. He pushes the goggles away from his eyes and takes a rag. This would be the first time she had seen him out of the cowl, and he only looked faintly less ridiculous, "It's only fair that I get to play with it."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Of course she's settling. She's always settling; even Batou isn't the person the Major would choose first. All of life is an exercise in deciding how far from 'right' is acceptable.

"Fair is fair," She replied mildly in a way that implied that she did not agree with that tenet in the least. He does look...different. Not more or less, simply different. Contained. Micro-expressions are a beautiful thing, but he's better than most. She's curious, "I suppose there's a logical reason for the costume?"

[crusades]

"You mean the design or the aesthetic?" He makes it sound like there's a logical reason for at least one of the two, "You'd be surprised at how functional it is."

Most of those who ever tried to remove it certainly were...

Bruce wipes the black rings from around his eyes, leans on the hull of his baby, and allows a pause before venturing, "I have a question."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"That's not what I meant," she replied, side-stepping any discussion on the functionality of any outfit intended for sneaking that also included in its design a cape.

But Bruce has a question, so she flicks her attention up at him, "Ask."

[crusades]

The woman who would otherwise be wearing a strapless swimsuit to work wanting to evade the question of functionality? Well there's a surprise.

And as for his question, it's something he'd had to put thought into. Something had rung a bell when the Major had first introduced herself, and Bruce had made his way to the media library the first moment he had to spare.

"Your name. Why'd you take it?"

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Blink. Something in her gaze subtly changed, sharpening. The Major did many things absently, clearly not paying her full attention even as she moved with unerring precision. Now she looked at him intently, the full force of that formidable personality present and watching.

It made an interesting contrast to her reply which was made flippantly, "Conceit, I suppose. It was a long time ago."

[crusades]

Her various tics were something he'd also observed with curiosity. Bruce had made the deduction that she was to some degree a cyborg relatively assuredly, but her comfort in her own body was not something he'd often seen in a cyborg from his own universe. He remembers Sasha and the way she had moved -cold and purposeful at all times, as if she was merely borrowing the shell- and stings ever so slightly with the guilt of what the OMACs had brought upon her.

Bruce stares back, unmoving, "As long ago as your prosthetics?"