Gender: Female
Age: 23
Sign:
Virgo
Country: United States
Signup Date:
August 14, 2018
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11/25/2019 01:59 PM
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[Graveside: Drabble]
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's 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. “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.
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11/21/2019 12:11 PM
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[Friend Files: Booster Gold]
Have you ever wondered what it's like to have a Bat as a friend? No, not a bat, the animal, a Bat, capital B, with the cape, and cowl. Well, strap in friends, while we go in this overprotective ride together. The Bat in question is one Stephanie Brown. One might think her the least intense of the Bats, and upon first inspection, you might be right. Might being the operative word in that sentence. On the surface, she is carefree, bubbly, and sunshine. But underneath, she fixates. How else do you think she wormed her way into the Batfamily? It wasn't because she had the skills of the others, believe you me. She is, however, devoted, driven, and caring. When you are one of the people she considers a friend, whether you return the sentiment or not, you cannot shake her. She is going to go out of her way to make sure you are living your best life, and if you aren't, she'll fix it, come hell or high water. You're stuck with the kindest human equivalent of mold you could get. Try as you might, she will always be there, she will not go away. You could literally beat her senseless and she would come back the next day, and do anything for you. Some have tried this method. Is it deep seated problems she needs to get seen to? Most likely. But that's not what we're here for. We're here to see which one of her friends is going to be forced into living their best lives. Michael Jon Carter, fellow Gothamite, however from a little further down the line originally, was the poor sap this time. It's always easier to poke around in friends lives when they're other supers, honestly, thanks to Bruce, and his paranoia. Brother Eye did the watching for her, she just… occasionally used it for personal reasons. She was concerned, ok, shut up. It was almost entirely out of character how low he had been laying though, until he had started talking to a reporter. Looking over the stills from the dinner dates, she nodded in appreciation. Steph wasn't blind, after all. "Oooh-hooh, Allison, huh. You sly dog... get it, Boost." However. In her totally not creepy at all way, she's just being a concerned and interested friend ok, from a distance, monitoring of the developing, or rather, stop starting of what should be a developing relationship, Stephanie decided it was time to get involved.
Tinkerbell needed a talking to, stat. Skeets could only pep talk so much, and she was fairly sure romance wasn't in his subdrivers, or whatever technobabble was applicable to 25th century drone sidekicks. She was dust in their time.
She knew what she must do. By the time Michael shuffled into his apartment, flicked on the light, shut the door behind him and turned around, he noticed something was off about his space. Perched on the arm of the couch, hunched under the cape, tufts of blonde poking out under the back of the cowl, white lenses illuminated, staring directly at him. It might have been intimidating, had she have been the originator of the pose, and not a 5'5", 120 odd pound woman, who, upon the initial flicker of a startled expression across burst into a fit of giggles and almost fell backwards off the arm of the chair, having to unfold herself quickly to stop it, which, frankly, looked ridiculous. Like a black, purple and gold gargoyle exploding into flailing limbs. "You should have seen your face!" She eventually wheezes out, getting to her feet. Unamused, setting his belongings down, Michael shook his head and crossed to the kitchen. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this break in, Steph?" Tailing him, and sliding the lenses of the cowl up and away, to her preferred open eye state, she leant against the bench behind him, as he hunted through the refrigerator for… something? a reason to not have to look at the cowl wearing intruder, maybe?
Never one to beat around the bush, Stephanie, resting her hands against her small of her back jumps straight to the point. "So, why aren't you just, like, getting with Allison?" THUD Jerking his head in surprise at her words, and meeting the inside of the fridge with the top of his head as he whipped around to look at her, almost bewildered, Michael frowns. "How-" He doesn't even finish the question. Stephanie was already indicating to the pointed ears of her cowl, eyebrows raised, smiling faintly. "-right. Bat. I forget that it's not just Him that knows everything." "I'm not arrogant enough to say I know everything. Just the stuff I want to know. So. Spill. What's the issue? She got weird B.O or something?" "What? No! She's… amazing. We'd be great together. I just… can't." Staring at him blankly for a moment, Stephanie tilts her head to the side, making sure she registered what she heard correctly, straightened up, and let out a heavy sigh. "I see. This is one of those 'Oh no, love hurts, I don't want to get hurt' things, isn't it?" She may not have been the world's greatest detective, or even top 5 in the Batfam, but she knew enough about egos. "I swear to go- Tinkerbell. You go to that woman right now, and you tell her that you want to give it a shot. I saw the pictures. You two were so damn happy. People deserve happiness.-" Seeing him open his mouth to start to protest she closed the gap in the kitchen in a stride, and swatted him on the forehead. "- No backtalk, respect your elders, future boy. Even people who think they don't deserve happiness, deserve happiness. Even the people who think, with all the mistakes they've made, all the monumental f*** ups they've made, and people who have gotten hurt because of them, deserve to be happy. Because you aren't your mistakes. They don't define you, Boost." She started fiery, like she could punch him for thinking he didn't deserve to be happy, but softened as she went, resting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Besides. If you don't do something about it, I will."
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11/19/2019 07:32 PM
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[Very Bad Day: Drabble]
Stephanie Brown was having an outright no good, awful, very bad day. To start with, she hadn't slept for going on three days, on top of her already atrocious sleep schedule. Some Uptown yuppie in their fancy new Lexus that Mommy or Daddy bought them cut her off pulling into the college parking lot, causing her to slam on her breaks so hard both her undone bags, the book bag, and her suit bag, got scattered to the four winds around the interior of the Compact, which took a good twenty minutes to try to recover (couldn't leave half a batsuit just laying in the backseat, after all), making her late to class. She ended up wearing not one, but two jumbo lattes from the campus diner after two repeat max level dork performances, leaving her not only mildly damp but uncomfortable, and smelling like the bullpen of the GCPD. She was however grateful to be unharmed, and thankful she wore so many layers, but highly under caffeinated. Steph also dropped her sandwich the very second she unwrapped it. She emailed her essays to the wrong professors, which was easily fixed, but embarrassing enough to make her want to curl up under her desk and die. Again. "Hey, Freakazoid. Your phone. It's been ringing for the last five minutes…" Jordanna lightly taps Steph on her shoulder, jolting her from her semi dozing state, glazed eyes fixed on a point out the library windows. Straightening up, rubbing the bridge of her nose with two fingers under the glasses she didn't actually need but occasionally wore to focus, or on jobs as Constance, she lazily reached for the face down, buzzing, perma-silent phone.
Gazing at the screen, and seeing [Calling: Eye in the Sky] she sighed slowly, got up, and answered the phone, wandering a little bit away, waving a 'one minute' motion to Jordanna. "About time you picked up." As soon as the phone was to her ear. Sighing, Steph pulled her sticky shirts away from herself for the umpteeth time. "I'm at school, Babs, you know this. What is it?" "Aaron Black escaped Blackgate half an hour ago." "WHAT?!" Stephanie was already moving back to pack up her stuff, Jordanna looking on in confusion. "B didn't want me to tell you, but-" "Yeah, of course he didn't. I’ll be out in ten. You think A.P Gordon can cover for me?" "Go, I got you." Steph hung up, moving out of the library at speed, leaving Jordanna behind, confused. True to her word, Batgirl was out and on the prowl for Cluemaster, hitting his old haunts, old buddies, old everything, she paused, hit with a realisation. Heading home, as quickly as she could, she climbed through her bedroom window, to see Cluemaster already restrained on the floor, unconscious, she noted, with the Bat standing over him. "You took your time." "I didn't think he'd be stupid enough to try the house…" "He wants to hurt you, of course he'd be here, to get you, either through your mother, or directly." "Yeah, well, lucky he didn't know the schedules, I guess. Moms on days this quarter." Steph was too tired to even be angry at her father. Flopping to sit on her bed, pulling the cowl from her head, she sighed slowly, the unmoving gaze of the Bat on her. "You're off patrol tonight. You're in no shape for anything." "Yeah, ok Boomer..."
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11/01/2019 08:23 PM
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[Spook Night Patrol: Drabble]
She didn't, strictly speaking, lie to her friends about her plans for Halloween night. Her mermaid costume had its work out already, with a party she forced on the family earlier in the month, and her night was going to be spent doing 'family' stuff. Which just so happened to mean patrol. But Steph loved patrol on Halloween. You'd think the rogues would be worse, but she always found them to lay low, probably because the Bat had gotten a little more… aggressive? with the kiddlywinks out and about. More protective. Steph got that. She did it too. Which is partially why she loved patrol so much on spook night. She may or may not have blown money she didn't exactly have on a bunch of candy, but by God, Batgirl was gonna be a candy fairy tonight. But first, she had to make sure the Brown house left the offerings for the neighborhood kids while the house was empty. On the stoop, next to the Jack-o-lantern she found time to carve, a plastic bowl, with a note taped to it: 'Have a good night!'No 'Take one', no 'please share', Steph knew kids well enough to know that they should. And if they didn't, well. Not much she could do about it. Batgirl couldn't be everywhere. The energy in Gotham on Halloween was always something that had to be felt for oneself. People were usually tense about something. The next 'big thing', when something crazy would happen, but on this night, they were the 'crazy ones' in masks, the nervous energy turned to excitement, a buzz that filled the air, and Steph lived for it. Sure, she could just not patrol, and go off, join the parties, enjoy the relatively maintained chaos, but, well, she enjoyed what she did. Being there, just in case, traveling across the city and seeing all the costumes, all the setups, and being the candy fairy. Group of kids not getting a response at a door or a building she was on? Batgirl would drop them some candy. Guy crying on a stoop about his stupid boyfriend in the party? Have some candy, and a cape to cry into for a few minutes. It wasn't like patrol was busy, after allGirl throwing up in an alley from partying a little too hard? Maybe some of this candy was mint? Let me hold your hair, you're gonna be sick again, I can see it, it's gonna be ok. Let it out. Watch your shoes. The music from the different parties was always great, saved O, Proxy and anyone else that would have been on comms from dealing with Radio Batgirl, she may or may not have been spotted dancing on rooftops throughout the night. By the time the sun was rising, and Gotham was winding down, settling into November first, Batgirl sat and watched the parade of people returning home, sipping her coffee exchanged for the last of her candy bars in her belt in the Starbucks. Not that Bats needed to pay for coffee, but she wanted to give the poor doll with the cute pumpkin headband missing out on the festivities something for the night.Steph enjoyed taking in the last few moments of peace before the insanity that Thanksgiving and Christmas season brought Gotham.
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10/29/2019 09:34 PM
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[Haunted House: Drabble]
"Hey, Freakazoid." Steph looked up from her pile of notes, pen in hand, in time to see Jordanna let go of the empty water bottle, followed by Francisco, and Mike.
The gang's all here, apparently.
Catching it with a raised brow, she sat it down neatly next to where her paper coffee cup sat, before taking the coffee to her lips. "What's up?" Frowning at her 'prank' being foiled by reaction times, Jordanna leant over Steph's notes, glancing down at them. "You need a break. They turned the dorms into a haunted house, you're coming with us. I'm not taking no for an answer, Brown." Sighing into her mostly empty coffee, Stephanie looked between the boys, silently reading their faces, then back to Jordanna, before stacking her notes and starting to put them away. "One, you should accept people saying no, Jor. Two, these two are scared to, and you want more back up, is what I'm hearing." With the silence that hung between then all, Steph shook her head slightly, grinning to herself, getting to her feet. "Alright, alright, let's go…" "Wait, really?!" Jordanna seemed genuinely surprised. Steph simply nodded her head, and shifted her book bag to her shoulder, catching the appreciative glance shared between Mike and Francisco. Clapping them both on the shoulders as she started to lead them from her once secluded study corner of the campus diner, she nudged Jordanna. "I didn't take you for a scardy cat, Jor." "I'm not scared! I just-" "It's alright to be scared, Jordanna. I don't like haunted houses much, if I'm being honest. "So why did you agree…?" By now, the girls had gotten a little ways ahead of the boys. "Other than you not taking no for an answer?" She raised a brow, deadpanning Jordanna, who shoved her in response. "I'm being serious." Stephanie shrugged a shoulder, tucking her hands into her pockets. "I really did need a break. And I wouldn't mind seeing what people consider scary now." Jordanna eyed her curiously as the boys jogged to catch up, Mikel draping an arm over them both. "Ok, but, enquiring minds need to know, ladies, what are the plans for Halloween." Jordanna acts first, shoving his arm off with a huff, reflexively moving towards Francisco. "Probably the harvest festival, like usual. And Old Lady Brown there will probably stay in and study, like she has been doing every time I call her." Steph's elbow caught Mike in the ribs, but she didn't miss a beat otherwise. "I love Halloween. The costumes, the parties, everyone getting to be someone else for a night? Greatest time of the year. I've got my costume ready, and a family thing to go to." She was hit with two questions simultaneously; Mike and Francisco "What costume?" "When you say family, you mean the Wayne's right?" "A mermaid, and yes. Assume whenever I say family, it means the Wayne's, alright?" Jordanna swatted Steph on the arm. "When are we invited?!" Steph instead pushed into the dorm building, which was all done up, actually quite well, for Halloween. "Oh hey look, how spooky, we're here!" Jordanna scowled at her as she lead them through the first set of rooms, but as the first 'scare actor' jumped out, and made three of the four yelp in fright, the brushed off question forgotten. Steph continued leading them through the halls and done up rooms, each with a different theme, zombies, mummies, vampires, generic monsters, all eliciting an eyeroll from Stephanie, who had, at some point or another, had a run in with most of the beings, for realsies. The life of a Bat was weird sometimes.The higher through the dorm they went, the less hokey, less juvenile, the 'scare rooms' got, some even done up like in the theme of some of the Gotham Rogues. Looking into the Scarecrow room, and the others made disgusted sounded, Steph spoke up brightly, looking over her shoulder, offering her other arm to Jordanna for the umpteenth time, after 'Doctor Crane' jumped out at them, to get feeling back in her hand for a bit. "You know he went to this school? Some of his notes might still be around here somewhere…" Francisco blanched. "Don't even joke. That's not funny, Steph." "I never joke. I'm not a funny person…" She says as flatly as possible, trying to stifle a grin.
Backing out of the room, 'Scarecrow' cackling behind them, she lead them to the next room, one with a black skull mask on the door. Her stomach immediately dropped, but she pushed on. Slowly turning the door handle, she then nudged the door open with a finger, and tightened her jaw.
Stephanie Brown wasn't an idiot, contrary to popular belief, and her gut instinct was usually on the money.
This 'fear room display' was indeed Black Mask, complete with fear actors, 'Roman', and victim, being tortured. "That's just messed up…" Francisco says from behind her, as Steph has to remind herself where she is. That she wasn't the one on the table. That it wasn't really him. "That's what Black Mask does. You should see what he does with a power drill..." She mutters, trailing off, shutting the door with more force than she intended, before leading them back to finish the house, focusing on Jordannas nails in her arm.
It took a few rooms for Steph to realise her shoulders were still tensed.
By the time they were back down to the goofy scares, with Corpse Brides, and sheet ghosts with glasses, Steph had eased up, mostly.
Back outside in the brisk, fall air, the others flushed, adrenaline filled, giggling messes, she smiled faintly at them. "Have fun?" Jordanna grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "How messed up did your dad make you?! You didn't even jump once!" Francisco ran his hands through his hair and laughed nervously. "I wish I was that stoic! That's so cool. You don't get scared at all?" "Oh, no, I get scared. I get scared a lot. Stuff in there spooked me. I just learnt a long time ago to not react to it. Because-" "Because your dad messed you up!" Jordanna shook her again, causing her to finally crack a grin, letting the shaking throw her around exaggeratedly. "Something like that."
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10/14/2019 12:09 PM
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[Unsinkable: Drabble]
Steph didn't spend a lot of time in the Batcave these days. She didn't need to, what with the Firewall. But the cave also made her feel… inadequate.She sees the cases, everyone else's case, and is reminded that she's just reserve grade. Not real Bat Family. 'You have to retire, be murdered, become someone else, or be shot to have a case' That was what Babs said when Stephanie was looking at the cases - at the suits in the cases - when she was trying to establish herself as Batgirl.
But of course she didn't have a case.
Her murder didn't count. Why would it?
She was revived with medicine, and skill, not mysticism.
She recovered with time, and pain, not a dip in a pit that cured all her issues, and brought her out stronger.
No, no, of course it didn't count.
Just like her being Robin. That never counted either. She knew it. They all knew it. Give it enough time, and she wouldn't count as Batgirl either. And Spoiler? Pssh. Who the heck is that?
Cluemasters kid? Who's that? Sounds like a Riddler wannabe. She had already heard it all. She grew up with it.
Spoiler never counted. So why would Spoiler have a case when she moved on to bigger and better things.
The times she had been shot didn't count for a case either. Why would they? She could still walk, after all. And even if she couldn't, it would only be Steph.
What would they be losing?
Nothing they didn't immediately move on from once before anyway.
No. No, she will stay over here. In the nice, brightly lit Firewall, where her inadequacies can eat her up inside, without physical representations, thank you very much.
At least over here she could try to focus, to clear her head, to work on what mattered.
They might not have always considered Batfamily, but while she had a cape, the city did. And Gotham was what mattered.
You don't give up on her, she won't give up on you, as Nell told her. Words that truly stuck with her.
She may not have been a real Robin, or even a very good Batgirl, but she had learnt how to be a pretty damn good Stephanie Brown.
And that meant something to her, damnit.
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10/14/2019 06:01 PM
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[Benny and the Jets: Drabble]
It had been calling to her for weeks. No. Months now. The damned ivory toothed menace, sitting in one of the ballrooms. They were going to do this dance again. She had felt the itch to play again creeping up on her for a while now, her fingers absently pressing non existent keys, her feet pressing down pedals that weren't there when ever she sat still for too long. But this time. Oh, this time, she had a plan of attack. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike, making sure the manor was clear of all occupants, that the likelihood of a repeat of last time wasn't going to happen, she slowly slipped across to the bench. Playing a few scales, grinning to herself, she stopped, listened, waited. So far, so good. No sneaky butlers. Last time, Stephanie didn't know what she was going to play. She struggled to remember anything. But this time she had spent the last several weeks learning a song by ear. It was in her head. She was ready for this. It was her time. Her time for herself. On top of her moment to play again, she was going to let loose and sing. And not her purposely annoy everyone on patrol singing either. "Hey kids, shake it loose together
The spotlight's hitting something
That's been known to change the weather
We'll kill the fatted calf tonight
So stick around~" As she sung and played for herself, swaying in time to the beat, her voice travelling through a not as quite as empty as she would have hoped manor.
Letting the last note linger she hung her head back, a smile on her lips, pleased with herself.
That was, until, the polite applause started, causing her to leap to her feet, knocking the stool over, and whirl around to face Alfred.
Of course it was Alfred. "WOULD YOU STOP DOING THAT TO ME?!"
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10/04/2019 12:53 PM
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[TBT: First Steph Piece. Ever.]
Many things roamed Gotham’s streets in the darkness, this night was no different. Crouched low on the corner of a roof, she wondered, not for the first time, if maybe she picked a bad colour to wear. Before she could even begin that conversation with herself, she saw him. Yellow cape, red chest, green gloves, she giggled to herself slightly. ‘And I picked a bad costume….’ She thought, watching the young detective. He had followed her clues to her father's new base. She had hoped the Dark Knight would come himself, but ‘the Cluemaster’ was probably low on his list. A minor annoyance. What with the big ones still running around.
Watching Robin, she decided it was good that he was there. At least someone was going to stop him.
Shifting slightly, rubbing her foot to stop the pins and needles that had been forming, she wondered how long she had been squatting there. An hour? Maybe two? Hard to tell.
While she was adjusting her footing, Robin had slipped into the building, dragged Cluemaster out by his collar and down the alley towards where he always ended up. The police station.
Standing up and stretching herself to her 5 foot, 5 inch height she raised her arms over her head and let out a soft groan. ‘I wonder what excuse for not being home in the morning I’ll get this time…’ She thought to herself.
Her father, the criminal. Shaking her head, she started towards the fire escape when she heard a voice. “Do you spend all your time of roofs?” Jumping slightly, she whirled around, finding Robin standing on the other side of the roof. Blushing furiously, she mentally congratulated herself for having her hood up, then quickly got angry at herself. How did he know she was there? And better yet, how did her creep up on her. “Come on Spoiler, we know how this works. You leave clues to Cluemaster, someone follows them, he gets stopped, you slip away…” He grinned, and she blushed deeper. ‘Damn him. Being so… Cute… Focus!’ She snapped at herself, then cleared her throat and tried to sound casual. “Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure you did the job…” ‘That's great Stephanie, sound like a bitch. That will totally help you…’ She clenched her jaw at herself under the hood, balling her gloved hands up. Seeing her fists tighten, Robin raised his hands “Easy, not gonna fight you. I was…” He stops, scratching the back of his head “Look…” He sighs “You can’t do this. You’ll get yourself hurt, or killed…. No one wants that…” His voice was soft, and Spoiler frowned a hidden frown. “You do it.” She says softly, causing Robin to shake his head “I have the training… I’ve seen how you get around Spoiler… You don’t… What if someone wanted to hurt you. You couldn’t stop them….” She tilted her head slightly. Was he worried about her? Just last month after leaving the clues to her father he called her a nuisance. But this? Was this concern?
Taking several steps over to her, Robin stopped again, as if torn by something. Before he could say anything, she spoke. “Maybe you could train me…?”
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09/21/2019 05:21 PM
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[Secrets: Drabble]
Sometimes, people like to keep secrets. Deep, dark secrets. Locked away, never to be found by anyone, to be taken with them to the grave. Stephanie Brown had several secrets, obviously, being part of the Costumed Freak Club that ran around Gotham of a night time. She hid her relationships from her mother, as well as the fact that her father was alive. Her father didn't know he was a grandfather, and she planned on keeping it that way. She didn't need Arthur Brown messing up another poor little girls life. Reason number 327 she gave her daughter up for adoption. Steph also hid physical things. Not just her scars, although that's obvious, but items. Her suits, her gear. Some childhood pictures of her and Arthur. A cassette tape player, and some of his tapes. You see, as much as Stephanie would like to try to tell everyone, to tell herself that she hated him, that she wanted him dead, when the shady government agent came to tell them he had died, she didn't take it well at all. All Stephanie ever wanted was to try to help her father. Work out why he was bad. Maybe help him become better. Become a good person. Digging to the back of her closet, to the cardboard box she kept the tape player and tapes in, settling herself in the corner and putting in Side A of the random mixtape of songs taped from the radio at some point or another, she let herself think back to childhood. Not the parts she remembered regularly. Not the yelling and screaming. The bruises and beatings. Not the visits to Blackgate, or the hours locked in the closet for making noise at the wrong time, but being taught to ride a bike, and his sheer panic as she immediately took off down the steepest hill she could find, and her breaking her arm. The one time she got hurt and it wasn't by his hand. That he worried about it and tried to comfort her, tried to fix it. Tried to be a father. Taking a well worn photo from the box, of a birthday party, she wasn't sure whose it was, maybe hers, with her perched on her father's shoulders, Crystal smiling next to them. Steph found herself idly wondering who took the photo. She was only broken from this pensive haze to stare at the tape deck as 'The Nutbush' started playing. Arthur had taught her this dance. She remembered thinking it was super dorky at the time, but now all she could picture was bright orange clad Cluemaster, and bright green Riddler, good old Uncle Eddie, doing the Nutbush. Falling into a giggling fit, collapsing to the side, holding her ribs, covering her mouth, her shoulder knocking the cassette player, causing a jarring, tearing sound. Sitting bolt upright, mirth immediately evaporating, jamming the stop button. With eyes wide she hit eject, letting out a strangled cry seeing the streams of ribbon like tape outside the cassette. Gingerly trying to salvage the tape, she scowled at herself as her eyes began to prickle. It was just a tape. Just her dad's tape. Why was she acting like this? It didn't matter. It's not like he was dead or anything. He was still alive. Still trying to kill her. Clenching her fist around it, hurling it across the bedroom and resting her forehead against her knees as there was the little plastic clutter to the floor, Stephanie sat in silence for a moment. "Stupid. Stupid tape. Stupid music. Stupid dad. Stupid… everything." Throwing the photo back into the box, snagged the case for the tape she hurled, stood, crossed to pick up the tape and collected it.
Moving to her wastepaper basket, looking at the mass of magnetic tape and plastic in her hands, she dropped it in on top of torn up, half written essays, along with the case. After a moments pause, she scooped the case back out, took the hand written song listing slip out of it, and dropped the empty shell back in.
Spotify existed, after all. And even if he was a criminal, murderous bastard, her father had decent taste in music.
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09/21/2019 05:12 PM
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[Proxy: Drabble]
"Gotham City. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy… wait. No… I'm thinking of something else…" The cowl wearing blonde taps at her chin, straightening up after pulling the ziptie tight around the wrists of the street thug, her foot on the middle of his squirming back. An exasperated sigh sounds over her comms. "You're doing it again. No-one gets your references." "No, you don't get my references, Proxy. You're just a heathen. You got it, right dude?" Nudging the thug with her foot, he nodded feebly, mumbling through his swollen lips. "Star Wars…" "Atta boy. Stay on the straight and narrow next time. You seem alright. Proxy! The music!" Steph pointed skyward, a weary groan sounding in response. Drawing her grapple and starting to walk away from her bust of the night, twirling the gas line pistol in her palm she grins deviously. "It's less painful with the music, and you know it. The music drowns me out." "Yeah, but. You're kidding right? You seriously want this played?" "Dead serious." With a heavy sigh, Wendy queues up the playlist.
Closing her eyes with a pleased grin, firing off the grapple to continue with the nights patrol, she started humming along to Bat Out Of Hell. "I hate you." Proxy deadpans, while sending her the address for a silent alarm being tripped. Changing course and heading to it, Batgirl grinned. "That's how you know you're one of us for real, Prox. Hating me is common ground."
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