[𝙳𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝]

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August 12th, 2020




Gender: Female
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Age: 28
Country: United States

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August 14, 2018


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01/17/2020 09:50 PM 

OWWP: Loyal

attention: | mentions: OWWP: Loyalwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
"Stephanie, get to Leslie's clinic. NOW."

The voice of one Tim Drake crackled through her comms, startling the blonde from the rooftop coffee break she was taking. Scowling and using the edge of her cape to dab at the spilled coffee on her chest, she responded absently.

"No names on comms, or whatever…"

"I swear to Go- Batgirl you are the closest. We're sending back up. Silent alarm was tripped. Assassins."

Jumping to her feet, coffee falling from the roof to the street below as she took flight, deploying the grapple, a scowl setting in across her usually bright features.

"Lead with that next time, genius. Same as last time?"

"Looks like it. Just get to Leslie."

"Yeah yeah, I'm going…"

A few minutes later, crawling through a window to the emergency clinic of Leslie Thompkins, Stephanie frowned, slowly turning her head.
It was quiet. Eerily quiet. And dark.
Activating her lenses and scanning the building slowly, she found a cluster of signatures, towards the back office.
Letting out a slow sigh, Steph pressed forwards, dread welling from the depths of her stomach, pouring into her chest.

"Sitrep, Batgirl."

A new voice. Not Tim. He wasn't joking about backup. Cass. She let out a shaky breath, and spoke in a low whisper.

"Clinic is dark, no eyes on Leslie. Room full of heat signatures. About to investigate."

"We're still ten minutes out, don't do anything stu-just stay alive."

Tim again.
Lips twitching into a reflexive smile, she shook her head.
Almost like old times. Batgirl, Robin and Spoiler.
Almost.
She wasn't that person anymore. She was smarter.
Slowly cracking open the door to the office, seeing the would be assassins standing around the desk, Leslie sitting at it, with one more man, older, stood behind her, sword slowly drawn across her throat, resting there.
A precarious situation, but other than harried, Leslie was as of yet unharmed.
Keeping her hands in sight, Stephanie moved a step into the room, a weak smile pulled across her lips, before her mouth opened reflexively.

"Sorry I'm late, Leslie. 'Cross city traffic this time of night, you know how it is…"

'Oh my god. You just never stop, do you. It just falls out. There's no off switch to the mouth, is there?!'

As Batgirl took her step into the room, the assassins shifted, for the sword wielding man to wave them away, eying the blonde.

"I had been hoping for the Detective."

"Which one, the big broody one or the small sad one?"

A beat, before he narrows his eyes slightly.

"I see I'm not the only one that recognises Timothy's skills."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Skills. Obsessive disorders. Same difference."

Steph looked around the room, counting the assassins, before looking back to the man.

"Awful lot of killers for a li'l ol' doctor, don'tcha think?"

Also casting his eyes around the room, to what she could only assume were hand picked men and women, his mouth curled into a sneer, a familiar sneer, and before he could say whatever pretentious, condescending thing was going to spill from those curled lips, Stephanie gasped, snapped her fingers, and pointed at him.

"Oh! OH! I get it now! The sword! The 'I'm so great' attitude! You're the Gremlin's granddad! You're Ra's al Ghul!"

The comms in her ear crackle to life again, another voice, not Cassandra or Tim. Bruce. Her Habit of leaving her line open paying off in her favor for once.

"Do not engage. Do not do anything to start a situation. I'm asking a lot of you right now, Batgirl, but stall. We're on the way."

You didn't have to tell her not to fight Ra's twice. She wouldn't if she didn't have to. The second part might be a little harder, what with her mouth having a mind of its own. However beat of silence and awkward shuffling between the assassins who weren't sure how to react to the declaration told Steph she was onto something.
Stalling engaged. She could do that.
You know. Probably
With minor stabbings.
Turning her gaze and lowering her pointed finger from the Demon's Head and tapped at her chin, getting ready to keep yammering.

"That makes sense now. I'm following. Ok…"

The sneer faltered, only slightly, setting into a displeased grimace. An expression Stephanie was all too familiar with from many a person.

"I expected better from the Girl Apprentice…"

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Legitimately taken aback at being called an apprentice, she screwed up her face, flicking up the lenses, deliberately revealing more of the confused expression.

"Whose apprentice. Wh-?"

The sword lowered further, a flicker of his own confusion at Stephanie's very visible befuddled state, gesturing at her.

"... the Detectives. The Bats apprentice. You wear his symbol right now."

Shifting her stance from her slightly defensive, ready to react stance to one of being completely fed up, she flapped both arms in exasperation, then folded them.

"Man, I don't know where you've been getting your information, but he doesn't want me on the team, let alone consider me an apprentice. My presence alone annoys him to death. Do you know how many times I've been fired?"

Raising the sword tip again, having noticed it dipped, Ra's raised his chin.

"And yet, here you still stand."

Pulling a face, desperately wanting to get the blade away from Leslie, she shifted her weight again, unfolding her arms and putting her hands on her hips, looking at one of the assassins, sighing slowly.

"Yeah, I'm a slow learner sometimes. Not the brightest, y'know. I do a lot of stupid things…"

Hoping her one time foster mother followed along with the repeated idea of 'This is dumb' Steph dipped two fingers into a belt pouch and flicked the snagged green pod centered batarang towards Ra's.
If he was as arrogant as she thought he'd be he'd-YES
Striking the batarang out of the air with the sword, a mocking laugh starting in his chest, the goop, always the goop, impact triggered burst forth, spreading around him, encasing his sword and upper body.
As soon as the sword was away from her throat and encased, Leslie darted under the desk and out the door, which Steph pushed shut and stood in front of, like the world's strangest bouncer.
The rage, and confusion visible on his face as Ra's struggled against the already set candy green rubber cement like mix, two of the assassins trying in vain to pull at it, he nodded towards Stephanie.

"KILL HER?!"

Bo staff and a utility belt full of crap against a room of assassins, one of which is like a billion years old?
What was that about being smarter that she used to be?
So far, the suit was earning its keep, saving her skin from blades that she wasn't dodging, but it couldn't save her from bludgeoning, or her exposed facial areas.
Ten minutes seemed like an awful long time when multiple people are fixated on ending your existence, but Stephanie would die before letting anything happen to her family.

"You're loyal, Girl Apprentice. It's foolish, but admirable. That loyalty will get you killed."

The voice of the Demon's Head calls to her over the din of fighting. Reflexively, with a mouthful of blood, she laughs, spitting it everywhere.

"Sounds about right. But you'd be wrong. It's already gotten me killed once. It's just gonna be my thing…"

A crashing from both behind her, and the other side of the room announcing the arrival of her backup allow her another, louder reflexive laugh, as she sinks to her knees, signalling her body to stop creating adrenaline, to rest now. She was done for now.

"Will you tell that idiot I'm not your apprentice, boss?"

A dark cape sweeps over her as her head hits the floor, her last memory of the night a displeased grunt of a response, the old team back together again as her eyes slip shut.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

01/16/2020 03:17 PM 

Buddy Cop: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Buddy Copwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
The hunched figure muttering a string of expletives at his desk amused the blonde.
The floor was poorly lit. You’d think a police department would turn on some lights or something, especially at night, in Gotham.
They must have been on patr-hahaha.
Toying with an idea that could very well get her shot, Stephanie swung herself noisily into a seated position onto the desk behind the seated figure and spoke, her voice the only other sound on the floor.

“You got shelved from a case too, huh?”

Whipping around, startled, Detective Nick Gage’s hand went towards his holster as he jumped to his feet, however stopped, upon seeing the amused expression of the purple and black (or was it just darker purple?) clad blonde batling perched cross-legged in front of him.
Running a hand through his hair and letting out a heavy sigh, the pacing began.

“I could have shot you!”

“Doubtful.”

She responds brightly. She didn't doubt the marksmanship, but she trusted her suit more than his bullets.

“How did you even get in here?!”

“Bat.”

Straightening her back, hands on her knees, already growing bored of the interrogation.

“...What did you say about getting shelved about a case?”

Breaking into a grin, turning her attention to the drawer by her knee, flicking it open and poking around inside it, she shrugged a shoulder casually.

“Weren’t you working the Inzerillo case? And you got told to drop it because there wasn’t ‘enough evidence’ or whatever?”

“I don’t even want to know what you’ve got bugged around here. At this point, between you and the Commissioner having the big Bat practically on speed dial I’m learning to just roll with the creepy bat thing.”

Gasping at being called creepy, before mock pouting, Stephanie got to her feet.

“You wound me. I’m the nice one. Aaaaanyway, what we are going to do, is not listen to our bosses, and go get evidence. I happen to know Jack Inzerillo, Enrico’s babiest of boys is going to be at the damn masquerade gala that all the snobbiest of snobs will be at-”

“Oh no”

“-and you, good detective, would probably clean up nicely. Go shave, comb your hair, straighten your tie, and meet me in the parking lot in fifteen minutes.”

“I already hate everything about this.”

“When have I ever steered you wrong?”

With a grumble of agreement, Saint Nick of the Gotham PD set off for the washroom, before poking his head back out the door in a moment of clarity.

“Wait, shelved too? Our bosses? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Batgirl what-”

However, the blonde was gone.
Fifteen minutes, and a million questions of his own sanity later, Gage left the precinct, out into the parking lot, spotting the purple tank-like vehicle idling. Sighing to himself, shifting his jacket to his other arm, he moved towards it, with increasing reluctance.
The heavily tinted window rolled down, and the driver called out to him.

“Get in, loser, we’re going crime fighting.”

Upon first inspection, the long dark hair, black full sleeved slinky evening gown and silver masquerade mask were a great disguise, but of course, once she spoke, it was very clearly Batgirl.

“I… don’t know what I was expecting…”

Nick slowly slipped into the passenger seat, as she grinned.

“Oh, it gets better. I’ve got a vehicle change and a jacket lined up for you. It might be a bit big but it’ll do the job. Two quick things. Not my first time under cover, like, at all, so if you could follow my lead, that’d be great.”

Steph started driving while she was talking, Nick looking around at, well, everything on the inside of the Compact.

“Sure. I can do that. I can’t say I’ve done under cover…”

“Goodie. Number two. My name for this is going to be Ella Malone. You Don’t have to worry too much about the first name. Elle, Elly, whatever. The Malone is the part you need. You follow?”

“Uh, sure? I follow…”

“Good. Now. Don’t actually say Malone unless you’re in trouble. Like, if you think any of the gangsters catch wind of you being a cop there under false pretenses? That's when you Malone up, you dig?”

Nick stopped to frown at her.

“I mean, I dig, but… I’ve seen you jump into a prison riot without a plan from a helicopter without a plan. What’s the deal.”

“Ah! But I did have a plan. And I was the only one in danger with that one if it went wrong. There’s a lot of civilians here. No crossfire.”

Stopping the Compact to pull up alongside a ‘borrowed’ Astin Martin, Stephanie smoothly transitioned from one vehicle to the next, her heels in hand, and scooping up a clothing bag, holding it out.

“I will be promptly murdered if you get blood on that jacket. Don’t bleed on it. It probably costs more than my entire tuition.”

After blinking in disbelief a few times, and dropping his jacket into the Compact before it got locked and armed, Nick looked at the currently-non-blonde incredulously.

“If this just… life, for you lot?”

“Hm? Fancy dress and fast cars? Do you not pay attention to the cape and jet engine cars? The dramatic roof leap exits? Masquerade balls are so last century. I want space parties.”

“....I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.”

“Pfft. What kind of detective are you even? This is why Bludhaven PD are better.”

“...Did you steal this car?”

“No. I borrowed it. With delayed permission.”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna lose my job.”

Throwing the Astin Martin into gear with a roll of her eyes and set off for the final destination.

“Nick. My guy. Your entire department functions thanks to vigilantism, and internalised corruption, you’ve been buddy buddy with me for ages, and now is when you start caring about laws? Relax, oh my god.”

Closing his eyes and hunching forward, resting his head against the dashboard, letting out a strangled groan of a scream, Stephanie grins wider.

“Nick, buddy, watch the leather, yeah?”

The bewildered glare shot at her as he snapped up his head was well worth it.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Arrived, parked and finalizing the few last thing, Stephanie still seated and putting her shoes on, Nick sighed, wearily pulling the jacket out, and putting it on.

“So, what’s the exact play?”

He asks softly, looking down at her. Grinning up at him, she clicked her fingers and pointed at him.

“We mingle, look like we belong. I’m gonna find ol’ Jackie boy, corner him, lift his damn phone, and get the hell out of there.”

“That's the plan? Why’d you need me?”

“AH! Well. We both wanna get rid of the Inzerillos, right?”

Nick nodded, frowning, unsure if he just wasn’t following something.

“But I was also told to say out of it, I assume because I was pushing too hard. I assume me being here and being spotted would give you some sort of opening?”

“He got it! Now let's roll. Walk like you belong. Because you do. This is your place. You own it. Feel that energy. Work with it.”

And with that, the bouncy walk that was followed typically by a cape was gone, and a confident sashay was in its place.
With Nick not too far behind, chin held high, ‘Ella’ casually scoped out the crowd as she entered, snagging a champagne flute from a tray as it passed.
Among the first spotted was one she immediately recognised as Bruce Wayne, masquerade or no. She had to work fast, especially if he had his damn lenses in. Turning to face Gage, a smile on her lips, her tone icy as she spoke quietly.

“Gotta move fast. Look like you belong. Just hold a drink. I’m gonna do what I went to school for.”

“Wait, there’s a school for… this?”

“Not anymore, I blew it up…”

She mutters, the smile twitching from practiced to genuine for a fraction of a second, leaving Nick confused, concerned, and in search of a drink, perhaps not just to hold.
After what felt like a lifetime, but could have been less than ten minutes, a commotion erupted from somewhere across the ballroom floor.
Abandoning the smalltalk with the bar keep, Nick started towards it, as ‘Ella’ burst out of the mass of people, holding the hem of her dress up, to storm away, as a few other men seemed to be ‘handling’ him, and one dark haired individual watched her leave, to leave himself.

“What-”

Gage started, for Stephanie to grab his arm and yanked him toward the door, with surprising strength.

“Time to go. Explain on the move.”

“But did you-”

“Yes. He’s handsy, but yes. Mission success. ...I think we’re about to be in a fat lot of trouble.”

Scowling and following her back to the Aston, shaking her grip loose, Nick, heeding the warning of death earlier started taking off the jacket.

“What, did you see more of the Inzerillo in there?”

“No, worse.”

“Would you stop being so cryptic?!”

The beleaguered detective flings an arm up in the air in frustration, as a soft rippling of fabric and a shadow pass over head. Hanging her head with a sigh and pointing in the direction of the lightest of footfalls sounding on the other side of the car, Stephanie grimaces.

“Hi B-mannnnn….”

She sings songs in forced cheer, swinging her arms awkwardly, shooting an apologetic look towards Gage, forgetting her current mask isn’t her cowl, and her expressions can’t be read as well.

“Was it worth it, Batgirl?”

“Well… Actually… Yes. Yes it was. I got what I wanted!”

After a beat of silence that felt like it dragged on for eternity, and the Bat having circled around the vehicle, Stephanie whined in discomfort and took the phone from where she stashed it; down her bra, before passing it over.
With the hand still extended, turning his gaze to the Detective watching the exchange, he looked him over.

“Nick Gage. 'Saint Nick' You’re meant to be one of the good ones. How’d she drag you into this?”

Scratching the back of his head, Nick shrugs, answering honestly.

“I’ve been asking myself that the entire time, sir. She talks so fast, you lose track of one thing and she’s roped you into something else.”

“Hn. Get home, detective. You’ll get your jacket back.”

With a stalled nod, knowing not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Nick awkwardly handed the ‘borrowed' jacket back to Stephanie, and took off walking, away, far away, from any more bat craziness for the night. Stephanie, seeing the still outstretched hand, tried hanging the jacket on it.

“No. The keys. And my wallet.”

Slowly grinning, taking them from the other side of the hidey hole, and sheepishly putting them into his palm, she folded her arms.

“How long did it take you to notice though…?”

“...too long.”

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

01/07/2020 11:28 PM 

OWWP- Regret

attention: | mentions: OWWP: Regretwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
"Stephie, honey, it's not going to kill you to take a night off. You look so tired."

Hunched over the plate of waffles in front of her, half awake, raising her eyebrows in quizzical response, Steph slowly straightened up and reached for polka dot coffee mug.

"I look tired, mother dearest, because I just woke up. Not for any other reason. Fret not!"

The corners of her mouth twitch into a small smile before sipping at the coffee, Crystal clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"I 'fret', Stephanie Brown, because you're, well, you. You run around with a cape and do dumb things."

Pointing with her fork, the pre cut piece of waffle dripping with syrup as she waved it over her plate.

"And a cloak. And sometimes no costume. I do dumb things naturally. Don't blame the suit."

Sighing and sitting across from the blonde, adjusting her glasses, Crystal stared down her daughter, in no mood for her joke deflections.

"Stephanie. You've died once already. And been in a coma. I worry about you. Every night. Every time there's a call out, and it's a young woman, I think they're going to be bringing you in."

Sighing, popping her food into her mouth and talking with her cheek packed, Steph reached across the kitchen table to take her mother's hand.

"Mom. I assure you. Oracle and I would never allow that to happen. The only reason I ended up in West Mercy General when I was in the coma was because the super gals panicked and went to the nearest hospital."

Scowling at Stephanie furiously, who was now offering a food packed, chipmunk cheeked smile, making it difficult for Crystal to tell whether she was being serious or not, she just sighed.

"Just… try not to die again."

Squeezing Steph's hand softly, Crystal lowers her eyes to the scarred knuckles of the blonde.

"I try everyday to not die. Does that make you feel better?"

Steph says softly, all jokes gone from her voice.

"No. Not even a little."

She squeezes tighter.

"Can't help you much there, mother. I have a job to do."

Stephanie says flatly.

"Why is it your job to do?"

Crystal raises her voice. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. Pulling her hand back, and getting to her feet, Stephanie says calmly, as she leaves the kitchen.

"So people like me don't have to step up and have to do it for themselves when no one looks out for them. Or their mothers."

"Steph wait-"

She was already halfway up the stairs.
Chasing after the blonde, white laboratory coat flapping after her, Crystal wasn't as fast as the younger Brown. The bedroom door slammed in her face, lock clicking. Crystal knew by the time she went back down to the kitchen to get a knife to turn the safety mechanism from outside the door, Stephanie would likely have gone out the window, and taken her car to get to 'work' hours early, to prove a point.
Steph snagged her bag up as she barreled across her bedroom, through her bedroom window up and slipped out onto the roof.
It didn't bother her that she was still in her pyjamas, she was going to change anyway.
Dropping down off the roof, into the garden bed and setting off at a trot around to the Compact, slipping inside as her mother flung open the front door, Steph threw the Mini into reverse and squealed out of South Holden.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
In the Firewall, assembling 'rangs en mass, cowl hanging loose behind her head, scanner blaring, contemplating the existence of a frankenrang, a call over the scanner caught her attention.

'ATTENTION ALL UNITS: FIVE ALARM FIRE IN MIDTOWN. ALL UNITS-'

Steph was already on the move. Pulling the cowl down over her face, running towards the Ricochet, she was out of there like a shot.
Skidding to a stop alongside the bustling fire trucks, prepared to offer assistance any way she could, when she saw a younger looking woman struggling with a firefighter.

"PLEASE! I HAVE TO!"

"Ma'am, you can't, it's too dangerous!"

Slipping up to them, Batgirl puts her hands on both their arms to get their attentions.

"What's the problem?"

"My baby!"

The woman wails, clutched Stephs wrist. The firefighter, looking defeated, and wounded shakes his head.

"I can't send any of my men back in there! It's a death trap!"

Digging her oxygen mask from one of her belt pockets and clipping it to the bottom part of her cowl, Steph looks to the building.

"Good thing I'm not one of your men then. Which floor, what window. Be specific."

With a small yelp, the woman drags Steph a little way off to the side, and points up to the fifth floor, sixth window across.

"The firefighters just grabbed me. He was in his bed, I didn't-"

"No time. Shh"

Firing her grapple off above the window, Steph rocketed up towards the flame engulfed building. She didn't have the heart to tell the mother what the likelihood was that her child was going to be ok, but she would hate herself if she didn't try.
Crashing feet first through the window, flicking her lenses down to protect her eyes from the smoke, she saw good signs. This room wasn't on fire.
Yet.
But with her just introducing fresh oxygen to the situation who's to say how long that would last.
Seeing curled up in the furthest corner from the door a small figure, she took small, careful steps, lest the floor give way.

"Hey buddy… you still with me over there?"

She called wearily. Seeing the head slowly raise she moved faster. Unclipping the mask from her cowl as she crouched, she held it to his face.

"I'm gonna get you outta here, ok? Your mom sent me. Hold onto this for me."

Glancing back at the window, she quickly realized she wasn't going to be able to carry a child out of it. Her years of night time acrobatics, and frankly, luck, had gotten her through that much smaller than she had thought window.
Unclasping her cape she half picked him up, giving a small smile as she moved him as gently as she could as she moved with haste. Wrapping him in the cape, before getting to her feet and tucking the last piece of cape across his face, she swallowed hard.

"This is gonna be a bumpy ride, but I have to cover your face so you don't get burnt ok? But you get to tell everyone later you ran through fire, ok?"

With a small nod of agreement, tucking the scared little face away, Steph gave a small squeeze of support to the kiddlet, before crossing to the door, taking a deep breath, and flinging it open.
The heat on the exposed lower half of her face was searing, and immediate. Tucking her chin into the bundle of cape and child she was carrying, and willing herself not to breathe, she took off at a run. Looking for the first hole in the floor she took it, grapple in hand.
Swinging into the next blazing hall, mentally correcting her path for the front of the building, Steph kept moving. No longer existant front doors in sight, the thought crossed her mind.

'My luck the floor gives out right now and I fall into a flame filled basement to die again'

Skidding to a stop in the zone kept clear out the front, ash falling around them, coughing, weezing, realizing that you cannot hold your breath and run for your life at the same time, she flicked back the cape over her little bundles head.

"How you doing?"

She asks softly.
The wide eyes travel from her face, up to the building behind them.

"....we were in there?!"

"Yeah buddy. We were in there."

"MY BABY!"

"Mommy?!"

The little head snaps around, lowering the mask. Steph pushes it back up to his face and moves towards the ambulances, the very grateful mother meeting them there, with an almost crushing hug.

"...thank you."

After an awkward beat, and a shuffling of feet, Steph just pulled a tight lipped grimace of a smile.

"No need to thank me… I'm just doing my job…"

After standing, watching and making sure the oxygen masks got swapped appropriately, and being handed back her cape, Steph nudged the boys foot as he looked around the inside of the ambulance.

"Remember what we talked about. You ran through fire. You get to brag about that to your friends."

"And met Batgirl!"

He chirped, to which she shook her head slightly with a genuine half smile.

"That one's not as cool though. Be good. Don't give the doctors or nurses a hard time, ok?"

"Ok Batgirl."

Shaking her head, she made to take her leave.
Sitting on the roof of West Mercy General, looking out at the city, coughing slightly still, she sighed.
Sure, she did something good tonight. She did something good last night, and she'll probably do something good tomorrow night, but how much good will make up for the people that died because of her? The fact she started a gang war and destroyed the city? The fact she single handedly handed it all over to Roman Sionis on a silver platter?
And what if the floor had given away on her tonight? That mother would have lost her son. And Crystal would have had to deal with losing Steph. Again. What about Lea? How do you explain that to Lea?
Giving up her baby wasn't even her biggest regret. Her biggest regret at this point was becoming Robin.
No. Losing the Robin mantle because she didn't know how to listen.
Feeling a buzz against her thigh, Steph scowled softly, digging out her phone.
A text. From her mother. Of course. She wasn't going to read it right now. She didn't have the energy. She was however, going to go break into the nurses break room, and give her mother a hug.
Whether Crystal needed one or not, Steph needed it.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

01/01/2020 07:42 PM 

Rockin' Robin: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Rockin' Robinwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
The red suit.
The green tights.
The yellow cape.
It had been a full week and she could still barely believe that she, Stephanie Brown, Nobody from Nowheresville, Gotham, was Robin.
For realsies, in the Batmobile, beating up bad guys with Batman and Batgirl, ROBIN!
I mean, yeah, sure, she did those things sometimes as Spoiler, but who the heck was Spoiler?
No-one! That's who! But now!

"Take five, Robin."

"Huh? Oh. Uh. Sure. Alright Boss! Can do, B-man!"

"And stop humming."

"I can only try!"

Steph beamed as she pushed herself away from the counter top, where they had been running timed drills of matching pairs of fingerprints in forensic slides with a microscope.
By they, it was really Steph running the drills, while Batman chastised her for not being fast enough. Not being Tim. But that didn't bother her. Why?
Tim wasn't the one here in the suit right now, was he?
No.
She was Robin now.
Wandering around the cave, swinging her arms, finally realizing what she had been humming the entire time.
Slowly breaking into a grin, she knew what she had to do.

"I am the one and only, oh yeah~
Call me, call me by my name or call me by number
You put me through it
I'll still be doing it the way I do it-"

Whipping back around to point at the only other visible member in the cave, Batman, the pitchy, purposely annoying voice that would go on to be used over comms for years to come continued.

"-And yet, you try to make me forget
Who I really am, don't tell me I know best
I'm not the same as all the rest-"

Running, and sliding across the floor to the display cases, as if to make a point along with the lyrics, almost pressing her face against the glass for a split second, before shaking her head, shoulders and hips in a wild, ungainly dance, her heavily gelled, spiked hair unmoving.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
"-I am the one and only
Nobody I'd rather be
I am the one and only
You can't take that away from me
I've been a player in the crowd scene
A flicker on the big screen
My soul embraces one more in a million faces-"

Turning from the case, melodramatically miming at her face, then to the sky, twirling once.

"-High hopes and aspirations, and years above my station
Maybe but all this time I've tried to walk with dignity and pride
I am the one and only
Nobody I'd rather be
I am the one and only
You can't take that away from me
I can't wear this uniform without some compromises-"

Grasping the cape in both hands and holding it to her, pirouetting before letting the cape go to flare out, motioning to the cases again.

"-Because you'll find out that we come
In different shapes and sizes
No one can be myself like I can
For this job I'm the best man
And while this may be true-"

Running back over to the counter, closing the distance her dancing has caused, slamming her hands down on it, scattering all the practice slides she had been matching.

"-You are the one and only you-"

Twirling back away, vocalising the guitar solo, playing the most wicked air guitar the Batcave had seen maybe ever, still trying to stubbornly shake her stiff hair.

"-I am the one and only
Nobody I'd rather be
I am the one and only
You can't take that away from me
I am the one and only
Nobody I'd rather be
I am the one and only
You can't take that away from me!"

Finishing her joyous number, shaking her cape untangled from her arm, the Bat who sat unmoving spoke after a beat of silence.

"... are you quite done?"

Lowering her eyes to the scattered slides, Steph sighs slowly.

"... yeah, I'm good."

"Good. Don't sing in the cave. Or the suit. It's not a game, Robin."

[Patrol, January 1st, 2020.]

"Oh, only you and me available tonight, huh B? That's a real shame… a damn shame. You are, one could say, the one and only..."

"Don't you dare..."

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

12/27/2019 02:52 PM 

Unmarked Letter: Drabble

UNMARKED LETTERMAKESHIFT WILLwww.roleplayer.me/dorkknight
If you are reading this, you have been cleaning out my belt pockets.
I can only assume that means something has happened to me.
If that isn’t the case, if you’ve just happened across this, please, fold this back up, and put it right back where you got it from. Please.
However. If something has happened to me, something… less than pleasant, let’s say, consider this my last will and testament.
‘Oh but Stephanie, you don’t have anything to give to anyone’.
Shut up, Damian (I’m guessing it would be that Gremlin that would say anything). I still have wishes. And I didn’t have a chance to do anything about any of it last time.
Assuming I’m dead, and not just, y’know, missing again, or in another coma, I have a few things to get out of the way.
Underneath the carpet in the corner of my bedroom is a loose floorboard. Down in the floor is a duffle of cash from when I worked for Penguin when I was ‘dead’ last time. I kept it in case of emergency. This seems like the right time. Give it to Mom. Tell her what ever you have to to make her accept it.
Also down there are my fake ids. Constance Aberthine is gone now too, so they might as well be burnt.
Spoiler and the Robin suit I made myself are in the top of the closet. It has a hidden cubby hole, you’ll find it. Do whatever with the suits. I won’t be needing them anymore.
Bruce, you told me you’d take care of my daughter. Please. Keep her safe.
Whatever happened, it isn’t your fault. Never was.
Tim, we’ve been through...too much together. Maybe I should write you your own thing. I owe you so much. Keep on going. Or I’ll possess every brick in existence.
Cass, my best friend. Thank you. Without you I would never have even gotten this far. You're the best of us. Bruce, Just give her the Cowl already.
Damian, you little Gremlin sh*t lord. My baby brother. You deserved so much better. Don’t forget the only thing I taught you. How to have fun.
Babs, you saved my life. You let me wear your mantle. I hope I haven’t disappointed you.
Jason, we are far too alike for anyone to be surprised by this. Guess I’m President of the club now. More deaths = higher rank, right? That's how we’re working this? Take care of them for me. Oh, and you know who had anything to do with this… you know what to do.
Harper, I love you like a sister. I’m sorry I wasn't there for you more. I’m a horrible sister. I wish I could have done more to help you and Cullen.
Cullen, sweet, sweet Cullen, the password to my spotify account is Jingle342. You’re welcome.
Alfred, I’m sorry that you’re going to be finding glitter around the manor long after I’m gone. The trick is pet rollers. Please make sure they don’t start trying to take this out on each other. Whatever happened. No matter what it was. I was pushing my luck anyway.
D*ck, Sweet Cheeks, did you think I forgot about you? Never. You’re gonna have to shine brighter for the both of us now. You can handle that. It’s a lot of weight on your shoulders, but you’ve got the glute strength to support it. I believe in you. Always. I love you.
I don’t want any of you thinking I’m writing this filled with regrets. I only have the one.
That I may not have had the chance to say these things to your faces.
If I am, In fact, not dead, and just, you know, maimed, or comatose again, or whatever, just ... Disregard all the sappy stuff, and keep this on hand incase I die.
Then in act the sappy.
I’m not the best at any of this.
Stephanie Brown

12/14/2019 03:06 PM 

Soft Spot: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Soft Spotwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
"Batgirl, trouble."

"In Little Tokyo? No? Haven't seen that one? It's good. Brandon Lee was in it."

With an exasperated sigh, in which Steph knew Wendy was either hanging her head or pinching the bridge of her nose, there was a pause before Proxy began to speak, wearily.

"Do you ever stop talking? Especially about random sh*t?"

"I was in an alien dream spore coma once."

"Why'd they revive you?"

"They didn't. I fought it and won. Can't get rid of me that easily. What's the problem?"

"Right. Armed hold up in the Heights. Hostages. GCPD can't get in. Your friend Gage is on the scene trying to negotiate but there doesn't seem to be any progress."

"On it…"

It wasn't hard to spot the cordoned off area around the general store, the flashing lights of the patrol cars being used as both barricades and shields in the case of a shoot out, Batgirl slowly sank into a crouch a few rooftops down, and scanned the area, looking out for not only potentially overly enthusiastic reporters trying to get a scoop, but police sharpshooters with vantage points.
Confident she wouldn't be taken out if she went to help, scanning the GCPD clustered around having what seemed to be a meeting of the minds for her man on the inside, as it were, Detective Nick Gage, she whipped a notepad and pen from one of her belt pockets, scribbled a quick message, folded it around a batarang.
Hopping a few rooftops to be closer, the cluster dispersed, returning to what would have been planned positions, she took aim and hit the door of the patrol car to Gages left. Seeing the batarang, Gage grabbed it, looked around and checked the note.

Here to help. Keep attention on you. I'm going in.

By the time he worked out Batgirl would have been above and behind him, she was gone. Working her way across to the back of the general store, shushing the GCPD stationed to watch the backlot that spotted her, sinking to a crouch, preparing to start working on the lock, she waited to hear Gage talking over the bullhorn again. She didn't care what he was saying, as long as he was keeping the attention on him.
After a few minutes of working her tools, the lock clicked open, and Steph slipped inside, but not before indicating to the patrolmen with a 'watch here' motion, quietly leaving a box in the way to keep the door propped open.
Once inside, she quickly realised the backdoor was the back office and storage area. From here she could see the entire store on the security system. Frowning slightly, she leant in to the monitor to get a better grip on the situation. Two men, armed with shotguns, one on hostage duty, having them all sit with their backs against the freezers, pacing along them at the back of the store, the other pacing back and forward across the front of the store, engaging with Gage, holding one person to him to discourage anyone taking shots at him.
A young girl. Wait…

'Oh, you scumbag. I'm breaking your face six ways to Sunday.'

Steph clenches her jaw and begins to set up her plan.
Crouching low, and scouting her way out of the office to the freezer aisle, picking up a bag of flour along the way.
Seeing one of the hostages before she saw the gunman, being told to sit on his hands on the floor in the frozen goods aisle, she raised a gloved finger to her lips, and offered a small smile. The expression of hope that lit up his face, that seemed to spread down the row, filled Steph with a renewed focus, and sense of purpose. Reeling her flour arm back, she peaked around the freezer cabinets, and let it skid along the ground to a place about five feet from her, before popping back around, listening.

"Hey. Who's playing games? If any one'a ya bastards thinks you're getting outta here I got news for yous."

As the voice grew closer, glancing in the weak, warped reflection of the glass doors, she burst around the corner as her was bent down to pick up the flour, driving her knee into his face, ripping the gun from his unprepared grip, and wrapping her arms around his throat in a very quick, very un-Steph-like guillotine choke.
She would have normally much rather taunted and quipped more, but time and place. She will never tell anyone she can do things professionally, and will deny it until she dies. you know, again.
Taking the unconscious form to the ground with nary more than a grunt from him being kneed in the face, she motioned for the freed hostages to follow her quietly, leading them to the office door, eyes on the front of the store, the back and forth between Detective Gage and the other dumbass still a background drone to her at this point.
A woman she recognised as Mrs Little, gripped at her arm, whispering frantically.

"I can't go, he has my baby."

"I know. I'm going to get Nell right now, I promise. But I can't focus on that if I'm worried about you too. Please trust me with this."

With an incredibly reluctant nod, and a firmer squeeze to Stephs arm, Mrs Little slowly crept out to inevitably argue with the GCPD about being checked out until her daughter was safely in her arms, leaving Steph to work out just how she was gonna make that happen.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Slowly slipping further into the store, heart pounding in her ears, she decided today was the day to play this by Bruce's rules. She wasn't gonna be able to exactly 'hope' them outta this one.
Time for fear. Sorta.

'God, I hope this works…'

She closes her eyes, takes a long, slow breath, holds it, and exhales.

'What would Cass do?'

With that thought in mind, she pushed onwards, fingers probing for the appropriate tools in her belt for this job. Behind the row of shelving, flicking down her infrared lenses, Batgirl flicked her handful of smoke pellets into the entryway of the store and waited for it to fill, straightening as she heard the startled cry.

"The Bat. F***ing cops! It was all a trick! Stay back you bat bastard, or I'll blow her head off!"

Steph could see the forms whipping around frantically in the smoke, the gun waving around, as he searched in vain for the vigilante. Unable to help herself, as she took a few steps closer, lenses glowing eerily in the smoke, she spoke.

"Oh, so close. A Bat. The big guy hasn't got time for the likes of nobodies like you."

"Batgirl!"

Nell Little, the only hostage left, with her tear streaked face perked up. Cracking a half smile, Steph prepared her next move.

"Hi Nell. Sit tight a second for me, ok?"

Now with the gun leveled at her, where she preferred it to be, Steph bent her knees slightly, preparing to move.

"Shut your mouth, you bat bitch!"

"How about you call your partner for some back up. Oh, right. You can't… I dealt with that already…"

There it was. He slipped. Glancing towards the back of the store and lowering his grip, she beckoned for Nell to run to her. Creating separation between them, Batgirl drew her grapple, fired it, and coiled her line around the girls torso, retracting it, pulling Nell into her body and covering her with as much of herself as possible, as well as the cape, because she knew what was coming.
The gunshot was loud, as was Nell's scream, especially in the store that has been as quiet as a grave until this point. At ten feet out, the spread of buckshot was non existent, which was good for Nell, nice and shielded way, bad for Steph, or more specifically, Steph's back.
Sure, the suits were bullet resistant, but you still feel a shotgun blast at near point blank range.
Grunting, she pushed through. She could deal with pain, split skin, bruising, blood in her suit, whatever later. Nell was still in danger. Pushing out of her coiled crouch, picking up Nell and carrying her around behind the row of shelving, she set her down, as she heard the gun rack back another shot.

"When I go back out there, go hide. Don't come out until I say."

Nodding, Nell turned, ready to dart off, as Steph dove across the floor, rolling, creating distance between herself and where Nell would be running before the shot would be fired.
The blast sounded again, the spread catching the tail end of her cape as it followed her dive. She was beginning to understand why they had shotguns for this job. Expert marksmen they were not.

"How many shots did you fire off while getting everyone under control? You've fired two at me. Are you keeping track? You won't wanna reload under pressure… do you even know how to reload?"

Watching him rack it back again, glancing down almost worriedly, she darted to her feet, running at him headlong.
With an almost startled expression, he pointed the barrel at her again.

'Now'

Sidestepping as he pulled the trigger again, continuing to close the gap, teeth clenched as the spray of pellets tore over her shoulder, she was on him.
Snagging the shotgun from his stunned grasp, and driving the butt of the stock sharply into his face, resisting the urge to do so repeatedly, and only driving a foot into his ribs as he hit the floor, unconscious, and bleeding from the face, she slid her lenses back, the smoke mostly dissipated now.

"That was SO COOL! You dodged his bullets! Like a ninja!"

Scowling and whipping around to see Nell peering around the edge of the shelving, she sighed slightly.

"I told you to go hide…"

Smiling sheepishly at Steph, the Batgirl just shook her head and smiled back, moving somewhat gingerly over to her, and crouching.

"C'mon. Let's get you back to your mom. She's worried sick…"

Nell responded by throwing her arms around Steph. Softly squeezing the smaller girl, putting a hand to the back of her head, Steph carried Nell outside.
The second Mrs Little saw Batgirl carrying Nell, she charged past the police line, and threw her arms around both of them, sobbing. It took everything Steph had to not yelp in pain.

"Told you I'd get her out for you…"

She manages to say softly, to a peel of laughter from all of them.

"How am I ever meant to thank you?"

Steph just shakes her head.

"Just doing my job…"

Smiling as she watched Nell and her mother finally giving in, and allowing themselves to be checked out by the paramedics on scene, there was a tap on her shoulder.

"This belongs to you…"

Nick Gage drops the batarang between his fingers into her grasp, with an exhausted smile.

"Oh yeah. Thanks for keeping him busy. Totally helped."

"Thanks for making sure no-one got shot. I didn't need that paperwork."

"What makes you think no-one got shot? Bats don't count on your paperwork anyway."

She grinned at the confusion, then realization spreading across his face, firing her grapple off, and saluting a goodbye, before whimpering in pain once she was out of ear shot.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

12/13/2019 07:54 PM 

Christmas Rush: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Holiday Rushwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
"Hey, dweeb."

Shifting her attention from the stacks of library books she had been sorting through, attention grabbed by the familiar voice of Jordanna calling her 'Dweeb', because who else would she be referring to, Steph raised both brows expectantly.

"What are you doing after class?"

The brunette picks up one of the unsorted books on the counter, looks it over disinterestedly, and sets it back down, before leaning on the countertop.

"Well… I was gonna go home… why, what do you want?"

"You're coming Christmas shopping with me. I'm gonna need help picking things, and carrying stuff."

After a pause, the haughty air evaporates for a second while Jordanna straightened up, turning to leave.

"Besides, you won't just say whatever to get us out of there faster like other people. So… there's that. Meet me at Killingers."

Shaking her head, and returning to the sorting and reshelving, Steph half smiles.

"Alright, Jor, Killingers… you got it…"

The rest of her classes went without issue, no accidental naps or coffee spills. Once free of the study day, and having safely crossed the slick student parking lot in her beat up sneakers with little to no tread left on them without eating a faceful of asphalt, she threw the bags inside and drove at a totally reasonable, not at all infuriating speed on the icy Gotham roads, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel in time with her music.
Eventually, she pulled into the Killinger's parking lot. Taking her messenger bag, leaving the book bag behind, Steph locked up after herself, and made her way inside, checking her phone, to see three messages from Jordanna.

'Traffic has been the worst, I'm getting here now. I need coffee, stat.'

'I bet you're in the same boat.'

'I'm in the third floor food court.'

Responding with smiling emoji, Steph set off, weaving through the bustling Gothamites all with the same idea as Jordanna. In the back of her mind, Steph started counted exits, keeping track of the nearest one, and eyeing off potential weapons, in the event of an emergency, should the occasion arise, and she inevitably run headlong into trouble.
Spotting her friend seated at a table sipping from a cup well before Jordanna noticed Steph moving towards her, Jordanna pushed out the opposite seat with her foot, nudging the other cup and plate with custard filled donut towards it.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Dropping into it with a slight frown, Jordanna responded to Steph's puzzled expression.

"Don't make a big deal of it. It's a thank you. For today, and, you know. Everything. I only ever see you eating sweet things, so… I thought it would fit."

"No no, it fits. You don't have to thank me, though."

Jordanna shook her head and spoke into her cup.

"Yeah I do… I don't know if you noticed, but I didn't exactly go out of my way to make life easy for you…"

Waving her hand and taking a bite of the donut, Steph talks with pastry stuffed into her cheek, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Nah, don't even worry. It's how it goes with me. I'm a pain in the ass, people don't like me, then they eventually warm up to me for whatever reason. No stress."

"Well, in my experience, you drop everything to help people, even when they've done nothing but be a**holes to you."

Steph shrugs and sips the coffee, growing increasingly uncomfortable with how close to home this conversation was hitting, decided to change topic.

"So who are you shopping for today, anyway?"

"Oh, I need help working out what to get… Francisco…"

The brunette starts flushing slightly, causing the blonde the start grinning widely.

"Are you officially a thing then?"

"I- Maybe? It's hard to say…"

Getting to her feet, holding her coffee and popping the last of the custard donut in her mouth, scowling slightly, Steph says thickly

"How is that hard to say? You just say 'hey, are you my boyfriend or not'."

"It's not that easy, Stephanie…"

Jordanna whines, getting to her feet and taking the lead in guiding them from store to store.

"I dunno. Don't make me do it. Because I'll do it in the most embarrassing way for the both of you."

"Can we not? Please? Hey, do you need to do any Christmas shopping?"

Steph knew it was an attempt to change the topic. Rolling her eyes slightly, tucking her free hand into her pocket, and taking a sip from her coffee, she shrugged a shoulder.

"Nah, my stuff is all done. I make most of mine. Anything I don't make is a gag gift anyway."

"Oh, right! Because you're totally in with like, the first family of Gotham. What's that like anyway?"

Snorting a laugh, she wished she could tell the truth, just for the look on Jordanna's face. It would be priceless. Instead, a diplomatic answer.

"The Waynes are just people, Jor. Nothing different about them."

"Yeah, aside from money, and good looks! Um, hello, you're dating one of them."

"Yeah, but there's more to him than just good looks or any money… come on now…"

Jordanna looked at Steph for a solid thirty second beat before breaking into a grin.

"But that booty though."

"Oh god, that booty though…"

Steph responds reflexively, with a devilish grin of her own, before burying her face into her coffee, Jordanna laughing.

"Stephanie Brown, you're allowed to thirst for your own boyfriend."

Snorting a laugh, almost choking on the coffee, Steph doubled over for a good two minutes before regaining a form of composure.

"I think I have an idea for you on what to get Francisco…"

"Oh god, I'm scared now…"

"Nahhh, it'll be fine… if it helps, it's part of what I got D*ck for Christmas too…"

"Now I'm both scared, and intrigued…"

Steph only grins wider, and takes the lead.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

12/04/2019 02:23 PM 

The Lights: Drabble

attention: name, name | mentions: THE BRIGHT KNIGHT The Lightswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Christmas time in Gotham. Less sunlight, longer, darker nights, colder winds, slick roofs and City hung decorations on every building to watch out for on patrol.
It was always fun.
And that was genuine, that wasn't sarcastic in the least.
It might have seemed it, but Steph genuinely enjoyed the extra challenges December brought.
But today's Christmasy challenge wasn't 'Can Batgirl navigate the reindeer she didn't know were hung up along this stretch of street without breaking her neck and losing the grapple' or 'How many rooftops can Batgirl run before hits an ice slick she didn't spot', no, today's challenge was 'Can Dork Supreme Stephanie Brown get through the tree lighting ceremony without making an ass of herself.
A mighty challenge indeed.
The plan was to meet one Richard Grayson there, look at the lights, see the sights, and if all went well, she wouldn't turn into a pumpkin when the clock struck midnight.
Throwing her messenger bag into the passenger seat of the Compact, she set off for the meet up.
With streets shut down to street traffic for several blocks in every direction around City Hall, for 'security', after many years of tree lighting mishaps, finding a park was a bit of a chore, honestly, she could have done the ol' rooftop hop in her civvies and gotten around faster at this rate, but eventually, the Compact was parked.
Shooting herself a final look in the rearview mirror, adjusting her purple (what other color would it be?) knit cap on her loose waves, scooped up the bag, got out of the car, locked her baby up, armed the security, then the security, adjusted her jacket, and started her two block trek to meet up with her date.
It wasn't long before she found him. Or rather, he spotted her first, waving her over with a warm grin, holding two coffee cups.

"Please tell me you wore the purple hat to make it easy to spot you."

With a grin of her own Steph shrugged.

"Sure. Let's go with that."

Shaking his head slightly and passing her one of the cups, he retorts.

"You're a disaster. How much purple do you own? Even the car, Steph. Even the CAR! That was hot chocolate, by the way, might just be chocolate now…"

Poking his chest lightly, turning to start moving towards the City Hall steps, she mock pouted.

"One, not enough purple. I need more purple. I don't have enough. Two, Bruce got the car. The car being purple was on him, not me. Blame him. Three, don't throw stones about colors when you live in a glass house, Little Boy Blue…"

Taking a sip from the cup she grinned at him.

"Hot or no, chocolate is chocolate… thank you."

Acting as if the poke was a stab, falling in step next to her, holding his chest, he gasped exaggeratedly, then laughed.

"You're welcome, Blondie. But if you show up next time in all purple I'm going home."

Raising a brow at the statement, a half smirk on her lips, she shook her head, not wanting to bring up the Spoiler suit, instead, she looked ahead, towards the top of the tree that would soon be lit.

"Ten bucks says a rogue crashes the party…"

Shaking his head slightly, he nudged her.

"Just because it's a public gathering in Gotham doesn't mean something bad is going to happen. Have a little faith."

"Is this how I usually sound? Sunshine and positivity? Man it's weird being the downer."

She grimaced, before raising both brows and pointing with her cup.

"Still. Ten bucks. Happens every year."

"If it happens. IF! We're already here. So it's win-win either way."

Grinning at her, draping an arm over her shoulders, causing her to shake her head and grin into her cup.
Up ahead of them, a troupe of performers clad in various states of mixed red, white and green made their way across the stairs, their makeshift stage, to get into position, microphones in hand, one figure in all green, with dashes of purple slid across behind them.
Straightening her relaxed posture, frowning, and tapping her date on the chest, who had followed her movements, already following the train of thought, they were ready when The Riddler snagged one of the performers from behind, cane across their throat, gun in hand, snatching up the mic.

"I come with many colors, so beautiful and bright, I turn so many houses into a beautiful sight. What am I?"

"Ha! Told you! … God Dammit!"

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Steph quickly went from jubilation from being right, to being annoyed that she had to work and didn't have time to change to her suit. Huffing, setting her cocoa down on the ground, surely to be lost forever to trampling, she unrolled the lip of her knit cap and pulled it down over her head, revealing it was a ski mask in disguise. Reaching into her bag, and fumbling around in the belt pouches for a moment, she flicked him the grapple, and snapped out her bo staff. With a casual 'what can you do about it' shrug, Grayson reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulled out a domino mask and put it on, zipped up his jacket, caught the grapple as Steph tossed it to him, and took to the air, while Steph used the staff to vault over a fleeing crowd.

"Do you even try anymore Eddie? The answer is lights!"

She yelled as she got to the stairs, the barrel of the gun now levelled at her, over the poor terrified performer.
Good. Steph could handle that.

"Oh. It's You. Don't you have other things to go spoil?"

Riddler hissed, immediately recognising the blonde and purple. (OK, so maybe there was a small flaw in the plan.)

"In a shocking turn of events, Eddie, today, you're spoiling things. Aren't you meant to be rehabilitated?"

From the roof of Town Hall, a well aimed snowball collided with the back of Nygma's head, followed by a cheery voice.

"I've got one for you. What's green, distracted, and black and blue all over?"

As Riddler whipped around to find the voice, almost waving the gun wildly now, Steph slipped in, grabbing the performers arm and pulled, twisting to put herself between them and Edward should he redirect his focus again, as her partner in crime (fighting) dropped feet first onto Riddler's shoulders. Seeing the opportunity, sweeping his legs with the staff, ensuring Nygma would hit the ground, pinned, motioning for the performer to make a break for the on coming GCPD, she grinned as Grayson batted the gun away, and motioned for something to restrain him with.

"Oh, I think I know this one too! Riddler, right?"

Fishing out the zipties kept in one of the belt pouches, and tossing them to Grayson, she quickly scouted the crowd for an estimate on the timeframe they had to work with, seeing the performer being briefly comforted by Commissioner Gordon, who was directing GCPD, and barking orders.

"Got it in one. Time to go…"

Straightening up, moving over and looping his arm around Stephs waist, firing her grapple off at the roof, to make their getaway before the GCPD could collect Eddie.
Stuffing her ski mask into her bag before they rejoined the crowds, his domino mask safely stashed away again, they watched as Commissioner Gordon now stood on the stairs, stoney faced, mic in hand.

"Just one year I'd like this to go off without a hitch. The song and dance routine isn't going forward, and we aren't rescheduling so another manic can try again. So. Just me this year."

With an almost apologetic shrug, he sat down the microphone, as a medley of Christmas carols started up over the loudspeakers, and Gordon pressed the oversized button with an awkward pause. After a moment, the lights flickered to life, from the bottom of the sixth foot tree to the top, finishing with the star at the top, twinkling brightly. D*ck wrapped both arms around Steph from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head, she held onto his arms, smiling softly.

"You still owe me ten bucks though…"

She mutters.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

11/28/2019 05:10 PM 

A Brown Thanksgiving: Drabble

attention: | mentions: A Brown Thanksgivingwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
The holidays were never really a big deal for Steph. She understood what they were meant to mean, but with Arthur in and out of prison all the time, and up until a few years ago, Crystal in and out of stupors, being forced into rehab and then working all the time (holidays always were busy for the medical field), Thanksgiving was never really a thing for the Browns.
Alfred had made it clear to Stephanie a while back that she was always welcome to join them at the manor, and usually she just hid out, laid low, patrolled instead. But this year she had other ideas.
Crystal was on call, of course. And Steph was going to take her something to eat. With Alfreds help. Because God knows Steph couldn't cook to save her life.
Slipping into the kitchen, through the back door of the manor, instead of her usual creep in through the cave, looking over the island countertop, that had been converted into the workstation for this by Alfred, she frowned slightly.

"How much food do you think we're going to need, Al..?"

Steph asked softly, as the Butler dropped an apron over her head and motioned to the sink, for her to wash her hands.

"I wanted you to have options. I don't know what your mother likes to eat, and judging by the wording of your message, you wouldn't mind the chance to learn more about cooking either."

With no remarks to make back for once in her life, Steph tied the apron, washed her hands, and took up place next to Alfred at the counter.

"What's first, boss?"

Raising a slight brow at her words, but smiling faintly, Alfred passed Stephanie a bag containing green beans.

"Top and tail these, if you would, Miss Brown."

Steph looked at him in mild puzzlement, for Alfred to point at the stem and pointed tails.

"Cut those parts off. Then give the beans a rinse."

"Got it."

With the same determination she went about everything in life, Steph set about fixing the green beans. After a few moments of cutting in silence, in which Alfred was heating pans, she speaks up.

"Does it matter that they aren't all the same length?"

"Not at all, no. Some people might trim them all to be the same, but that would waste a lot of food."

Nodding as she moved to wash the beans, and set them back down on the cutting board, Alfred set about putting out the other vegetables for her to prepare, while looking between the meats.

"Which do you think she would prefer?"

"Is chicken an option?"

"Of course.

"Go with chicken. I don't think I've seen Mom eat red meat in forever… and Turkey is too much…"

With a nod, Alfred set about filleting and butterflying the chicken breast, before laying plastic wrap over it, rolling it flat.

"Whoa, what are you gonna do with the chicken, Al? I mean, like, slow down, I wanna know…"

Steph sets down the sprout she was in the middle of running over the mandolin slicer.

"I'm going to make a roulade, and stuff it with the same stuffing the turkey has. So it will almost be like a whole Thanksgiving meal."

Unsure what to say, Steph nodded, clearing her throat, and went back to slicing her sprouts.
It wasn't long before everything was ready for the pans, and Alfred was on Steph watch, who was on pan watch.
Every time she moved to touch them before it was time, there was a tutting, and she would sulk into her tea.
Steph didn't quite have the patience necessary for cooking.
She did, however, clean up after them very quickly, in her impatience, dishes done, bench wiped down, everything dried and put away, much to Alfreds insistence it didn't need to be done.
A timer that had been set, somewhere, that Steph didn't even know about, went off, startling her from her sulking about waiting for things to do. As Alfred got to his feet, Steph followed him to the cabinet.

"You may borrow some plates. But make sure they return, or I'm taking it out of your hide, Miss Stephanie."

Staring at him for a moment, she finally cracked, and hugged him, squeezing with all her surprising might.

"Thank you Alfred. For everything. You didn't have to do any of this…"

Hugging back for a moment, patting her back, he cleared his throat.

"None of us have to do anything, but we do, because we care."

She let go, nodding her head, wiping her face in her sleeves, and pointed at two terracotta, blue plates that looked like they had never seen the light of day.

"I think I'm picking up what you're putting down, Al… those ones…"

"Very well. Let's get this ready then, shall we? And the invitation still stands. You can come back after you've eaten with your mother. I could always use the extra set of hands in the kitchen."

"Oh, I dunno… maybe…"

Carefully boxing everything up, and setting it into a picnic basket, along with some non alcoholic apple cider that had been picked out, the plates, cutlery, and glasses, Steph was ready to go. With one last thank you hug, she set off for the hospital.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
At this point, it was easy for her to get onto the ward, with or without ID.
Waving at Crystal from the end of the ward silently, the patients all eating their meals by this time of evening, she raised the basket, and pointed to it, beaming, Crystal frowning in confusion. Holding up five fingers, which Steph took as '5 minutes', she went and leant against the wall, to be out of the way.
A very frazzled looking Crystal soon came to join her daughter.

"What are you doing down here? I thought you'd be… working?"

"Maybe later. I thought I'd bring you some food."

Steph wiggled the basket, cutlery, glasses and plates clicking together inside. Crystal ran a hand through her cropped hair.

"I've got time for a break…"

Leading Steph to the staff break room, Steph grinning from ear to ear as she started to unpack the basket of goodies.

"Did you make this?"

Crystal asked, cracking open the box containing the sliced sauteed sprouts, onion and bacon, as Steph started carving the roulade.

"I helped… I cut up stuff, but that was about it really. A friend did all the heavy lifting here."

"Stephie, you didn't have to…"

"I know… but we've never done anything for Thanksgiving. Like, ever. So…"

Crystal was silent as she thought about it, then nodded.

"You're right, we never have… well-"

Raising her glass of cider

"-I'm thankful for how my daughter turned out, despite, no, in spite of her parents."

Stalling for a moment, Steph raised her own glass, lightly touching it to Crystals.

"I'm thankful for friends and family… is that lame? I feel like that's lame…"

Both Brown women laugh, drinking to their thanks.

"We should take a picture!"

Steph chirps out of the blue, jumping to her feet, and rushing around behind Crystal, taking out her phone.

"Wh-Steph, I look exhausted!"

"Psh, so do I. It's fine. We need something for our first Thanksgiving."

Looping her arm around her mother's shoulder and mooshing her cheek against Crystals, beaming widely, she held up the front facing camera, poking her mother's other cheek.

"Smileeeeee"

Before snapping a series of pictures, as they both laughed.

Returning to her seat, she sent the worst one to her mother, grinning deviously at her.

"You've never looked better, Mom…"

"You're a sh*t, Stephanie Brown…"

"I know."

She sent the best one to Alfred, with a two word message; 'Thank you'

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

11/25/2019 01:59 PM 

Graveside: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Gravesidewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Stephanie Brown.
Technically, she was dead. She had died, rather, and quite painfully at that, but thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, Dr Leslie Thompkins made sure it didn't stay that way.
There was, in her opinion, an unwarranted memorial among the people who had died over those weeks of sheer pandemonium she had quite selfishly caused trying to prove a point, an obituary that was published in the damn newspaper, and was now eternally immortalised in the digital archives, and even a whole grave.
She had visited the memorial, and seen the obituary, but to this point, had avoided looking at the grave itself.
How are you meant to process that? Looking at a headstone with the date you died permanently carved on it, but not really, because you weren't buried and you didn't get dropped in the Lazarus Pit so it's not counted as a real death like Jason, or Damian's was.
It felt real enough to her. Unlike her fellow Dead Robins club members, she still has to deal with the physical ramifications of being tortured to death.
But as she sat there, gripping the steering wheel of the Compact, staring out at the immaculately kept lawns of the cemetery, perfect rows of headstones stretching for eternities, knuckles aching, trying to use the anger of her death being 'invalid' as a reason to not get out of the car. To sit, steam, and make excuses for herself. To not go see the last marker of her mistakes on this self styled, half assed attempt to come to terms with… something. Her mistakes? Repercussions? Her mortality?
At this point, she really didn't know why she was doing this to herself, but her unusually hard head was what got her a tombstone with her name on it in the first place, and drove a good 80% of her life choices, so it was almost poetic, really that it would bring her to see it.
Letting out a long, slow, almost measured sigh, relinquishing her vise grip on the wheel, to slump back momentarily, pout, catch sight of herself in the rear view mirror and lean into the back seat to fish around for her jacket, run a hand through her loose waves, and step out of the purple Mini Cooper.
Hands deep in her pockets as she wandered through the rows of tombstones, looking for her own name, idly musing over some of the more interesting names that caught her eye as she went, bowing her head in respect as she passed their final resting places.
She was surprised when she finally found the tombstone.
It sat as one of a few atop a small hill in the cemetery, with what would have been a really rather nice view, down to the pond and the weeping willows.
Kneeling down, and lightly tracing her fingers across the lettering that made up the name, her name, she gingerly picked up the dried, withered wreath of… there was no was for her to tell what they were now, brushing the decaying petals from the glossy surface of the marble head stone, before sinking back on her haunches.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
“It’s been a good long time since this young lady had any visitors… two years, I’d say….”

A voice behind her caused her to spring back to standing, and whip around, crushing the dried floral remains in the process, and the owner of the voice to laugh good naturedly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you… I just, don’t get a lot of live company…”

Letting out a nervous chuckle of her own, Steph looked back to the headstone, and brushed her hands absently on the sides of her legs. Time frame checked out. She ‘came back from the dead’ around then.

“Two years, huh? Do you remember all the… uh.. residents, or-”

Lifting the brim of his hat to scratch at his forehead absently, the older man shook his head slightly.

“This one sticks out… Small funeral, I’d say about fifteen people or so, including myself and the preacher giving his farewell, and Bruce Wayne of all people-”

Stephanie frowned slightly, folding her arms across herself, shifting uncomfortably.

“I can see why that would stick out. Not everyday you find a billionaire walking around the graves, huh?”

With a nod, ushering her in closer and lowering his voice, even though they were the only living souls in sight. Wearily taking the step closer, he continued.

“I found out later that week she was one of the masked vigilantes. They said she was Robin. Can you believe that?!”

Raising her brows to feign surprise, Steph then frowned slightly.

“Did ya ever see Batman or Robin, you know, the one that took over after her, out here?”

To her surprise, he nodded, adjusting his hat.

“Once. The year after she went under, to the day. Mostly saw the scary Batgirl though. A few times.”

Cass…
Swallowing hard, Steph lowered her rapidly welling eyes to his shoes, nodding, responding thickly.

“S’neat…”

Awkwardly patting her on the shoulder, he motioned to the grave.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, though, please, go back to spending time with your friend…”

Giving a watery smile and nod in response, the blonde slowly shuffled back to the head stone, resting her hand on the impeccably carved marble surface and sinking back down. As she looked at the dark reflection of herself in the polished surface, watching the groundskeeper toddle off about his business, a million questions began popping up in her mind. Taking out her phone, she called Crystal. As her mother picked up, without even waiting for a greeting, she fired off the first, burning question.

“Hey, mom? Who paid for my funeral? This is a really nice headstone…”

“Wh-Steph-I- Are you at the cemetary right now?”

> “Mmhm. Who paid for it.”

“I don’t know, Stephie, I went into the funeral home to try to start organising things, and it had already been taken care of. I assumed maybe it was part of that secret government contract your father was a part of…”

“Hm. I dunno about that one… thanks, mom.”

Hanging up before she could respond, the ‘problem being solved’ frown set across Stephs features, she made another call.
This time to Leslie, who picked up on the second ring.

“Stephanie?”

“Hi, no need to panic, just some questions. Question one. Did you pay for my funeral, and question two. How much money did you blow burying an empty casket?”

After a pause, sigh, and some shuffling Steph could only interpret as Leslie moving to her office.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t come up earlier… Yes, I paid for it. And the casket isn't empty. It has the body I showed Bruce.”

Immediately looking down to the grass beneath her feet, Steph was silent for a moment.

“You, uh. You wanna run that by me again, Doc?”

“I got the body of an overdose victim that looked similar enough as a horribly beaten and broken you that would pass as you, showed her on the autopsy table in your place, and she got buried.”

“Under my name. Leslie! What if she has family looking for her! What if she has a kid out there thinking mommy might come home someday?! No! We gotta dig her up. Give her her name back. Get her to her family.”

After a pause, Leslie sighs heavily.

“That’s going to be so much paperwork…”

“You did it, undo it! I’m gonna do my part of being legally alive. I might not be the greatest detective around, but I know a few tricks…”

Ending the call, she spoke to the ground, to the woman in her casket.

“I’m so sorry… I’ll get you your name back, at the very least. But until then, your next visitor won’t be two years down the line, I promise…”

She was back the next day with a small bouquet of Purple Hyacinth to lay at the base of the headstone.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

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