Everything was fuzzy. Her head rang.
Something had definitely hit her. She was certain of that much. But what?
Blinking slowly, she tried to take in details of her surroundings. She was on the ground. Standing around her was Robin, Barbara back in her chair, and Wildcat.
'Oh. That'd do it… Man hits like a truck.'
"–Kooky, Alien-looking tech I found there has somebody other than just you two interested. Like Little Miss Creepy over here, fer instance. Any idea who the hell she is?"
Suppressing the desire to vocalise her discomfort, or to give any sign that she was even conscious, her breath caught as Robin, as Tim's, bloody face drew closer, as he was kneeling back towards her.
"Yeah… Spoiler… but she can't be…"
He reached for her cowl.
Fingers catching on the fabric.
Taking grip, prepared to remove it.
She had to act. No time to think.
Flicking her fingers to the belt switch and praying that the short out was a momentary disruption from the blow over a permanent issue, Robin gave her the answer, recoiling as she faded from sight.
"Damn… she pulled that Claude Rains routine again."
Rolling away from their legs, and staying low, in the event of wild blows, she began digging through her pouches for an out to the situation.
"Whatever she uses to cloak, not even my sensors are picking it up."
She could take her time with that information. But she didn't really have time. She didn't want to fight Wildcat if they cornered her. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Fingers landing on a round stinger grenade, she lobbed it in the direction of the vigilantes, Robin spotting it.
"Wildcat– look out!"
With the boxer catching it, Stephanie wasn't going to wait and stand around to watch whatever happened to him.
"Got it! Huh? Geez! It's disappearin' to!"
"EVERYBODY DOWN!" Robin yelled. Of course, Spoiler wasn't going to listen to Tim. Especially not in something she caused. Stephanie was already running across the Clock Tower as the explosions, and shattering sounds, started. He must have ditched it away from them.
'Good, no permanent harm done then. Probably.'
From somewhere behind her she could hear,
"I can make her out in the smoke… she's getting away!"
Spilling out of the stairwell, into the street outside, she couldn't think. She just destroyed any hope they had of finding Matc–Batman and getting his stupid ass back on the important task at hand, the gang bullsh*t. And she attacked her bo–ex boyfriend, and mentor. As well as another vigilante. If, no, when they do find her, she would never live this down. They would never forgive her.
'Fall apart later. You can't do it on Oracle's doorstep. More backup is likely to arrive any minute. Move.'
Pulling herself along hazily, head still spinning, her gut instinct was to go lay low in Leslie's clinic, only to stumble, both physically and from the emotional hit she just gave herself with the reminder that Leslie wasn't there to help her. That she also couldn't just walk in there, considering she died there. The emotional support that would have come from Leslie countered the trauma wasn't going to be there.
She held her head in her hands, confused, nauseated, trying to focus.
'Suck it up. You aren't even hurt. You got hit in the head. Cass used to throw you around like a cheap toy all the time. You just need some ice. You know a place with ice.'
Mumbling to herself, straightening up slowly, she made her way across the rooftops wearily back to the Lounge. Not seeing 'Dinardo' on the door, after the briefest of stakeouts, she enters through the front, giving Reggie a curt nod.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Snagging a hideously oversized, pompous coat from the coat room, she tied the cloak around her waist, tucking the cowl into her belt, and covered it all with the coat, before telling the poor put upon check lady to take it up with the Boss.
Finally making it to the bar, she got herself water, and ice. Holding the glass to the back of her head, her sulking was interrupted really rather quickly.
"While you were out, Ozzie's dinner went poorly, and several masks were shot down. Thought you might like to know we're expected to work together now."
Riddler slid into place next to her, leaning back on his elbows against the bar. With a glare she may or may not have picked up elsewhere, before leaning over the bar to the ice bucket and loading up her cowl like a cold compress, replacing her glass of water with it, she sighs heavily.
"Oh goodie. Just what I always wanted."
Nudging her elbow with the almost ever present cane, Eddie craned his neck, trying to see past her hand, the ice bag-cowl, her hair and the coat, his ever demanding curiosity a weakness.
"Lose another fight with gravity?"
Groaning, pinching the bridge of her nose and hating the fact she grew up with this man in and out of her house, of her life, hearing her curse her arch enemy – gravity – at the dinner table likely more than once, she considered saying nothing. Her mouth had different ideas, however.
"No. Wildcat. I–I messed with Robin, Oracle and Wildcat."
Whipping around and clamping her hand over his mouth she shakes her head.
"I don't want to hear it. They were after Malone. They had footage of things that happen in here. They were too close. I couldn't. I just couldn't. Ok? They had to be stopped."
Lowering her hand slowly, Eddie fixing his hat that had been knocked askew, Steph returned to trying to nurse herself.
"So what are we meant to be doing?"
After inspecting his niece-by-circumstance for a while, Riddler sat down, tapping in front of himself, motioning for a drink.
"Well, since you know where the Whale holds up, I'm meant to build you some nice little bombs for you to dance on into the place so it can get lit up."
After a long pause, in which Eddie had received his drink, and was sipping it quietly, watching the floor behind them in the mirrored back board of the bar, Steph turned to him.
"...while it's… empty? Right?"
Her only response? A pat on the shoulder.