[𝚄𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍]

Last Login:
October 25th, 2020

Gender: Female

Age: 20
Country: United States

Signup Date:
August 14, 2018


04/01/2019 12:51 PM 

[Shenanigans: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Shenaniganswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
It had dawned on her that she had been taking this 'Bat Business' far too serious lately.
She had been stalking the city for nights on end, staring at the screen of the infernal Batcomputer unblinking for what felt like hours, being much more Bat and much less Batgirl, so much so that she caught herself glaring at someone for daring to laugh around her.
That just wasn't right.
That was down right messed up.
As much as she respected the great brooding bastard (and she would die again before ever admitting that out loud), she didn't want to BE him. Good god. She still had joy in her soul.
Hell, she still had a SOUL, full stop. Wasn't sure Ol' Broody Boots could say that.
Suiting up, and switching out some of the gear in her pouches, she felt the slow grin creeping across her face.
She almost felt like calling Klarion, to amplify what she was planning, but she quickly shut that idea down, knowing that would turn into something she would have to clean up, involving some sort of monster, likely, instead of harmless chaos.
She sometimes forgot how different the levels of chaos they were on were.
Shaking her head, she hit the city.
It was time for Operation: Steph Was Getting Too Grump Bat, And Needs To Mess Sh*t Up. (It's a working title, ok?)
Stop one was a bunch of thugs in an alleyway, planning on jumping an unsuspecting 'opposing gang member'. (They were like, 16. She highly doubted they were actually involved with any real gangs.)
Clearing her throat loudly from her vantage point on the roof above them, she dropped a handful of her gooparang pods in the middle of them, followed by one of the boobytrapped smoke bombs she had been hoping someone would pick up, which had been conveniently worked around.


The smoke dissipated, the group stood stuck, held in place by her green rubber cement, coated in glitter.

“Stick around, fellas, ok?”

Grinning down at her handiwork, exaggeratedly chefs kissing, she lept the alleyway, and continued on, for her next target.
Target two was gloriously, Riddler.
Sliding up to the window of his apartment, knocking on it with a knuckle, she waved enthusiastically as he jumped, startled while he was watching what she assumed was some quiz show, because of course he would be. Seeing it was the blonde Batgirl, he glowered at her, and opened his window.

“What do you want, Miss Brown? I can assure you, I've been following the terms of my parole. And I won't be inviting you in, not after the last time.”

Grinning, she sank down to sit on the windowsill, nodding casually.

“Of course not, Eddie, I understand entirely. I was in the wrong. I was trying to come to terms with my father being dead. Which he isn't, by the way. Apparently we Browns don't do dead very well. But I'm here to ask you something.”

She paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing at her, but curiosity getting the better of him, as she knew it would.

“... Go on…”

As earnestly as she could, she tilted her head, she tilted her head, and pouted, looking genuinely wounded.

“Why don't I get invited to dinners?”

There was a pause, he blinked in confusion, shaking his head slightly.


“Is it because I'm a supper hero?”

She starts breaking into a grin, watching the confusion turn to fury, as she cackles, firing her grapple before she could be pushed out of the window, dropping another glitter filled smoke bomb as she does.

“Be good, Eddie!”

She calls, swinging away.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
She was starting to feel a lot more like herself. There was one more thing left to do. And it had been a long while since she had done anything like it. But this time it was the big time. She needed to make a pit stop first.
Swinging by the Sprang Bridge underpass, where her old friends, her old misfit crew were, she made her Batgirl presence known, holding up a hand as people looked too scatter. For the first time in a very long time, she used her vocal scrambler, before speaking.

“Relax. I'm not here for you lot, you should know that by now. I just want all the purple paint you have.”

After a moment of silence, one spoke up.

“What makes you think we have any paint, let alone purple…?”

Taking a flashlight from her belt pouches, Steph flicked it on, and pointed it directly at a still dripping set of tags, raising a brow.

“I don't have to be the world's greatest detective, Liam. Fork it over.”

Flinching internally at using his name, and seeing the flicker of surprise on his face, she shut off the flashlight, and was surprised by the amount of purple paint that was brought before her. Picking up just a paint can and a brush, she gave a salute. Turning to leave, Liam spoke again.

“Wait. How'd you know my name…?”

“Bats know everything.”

She says quickly, as if it was simple, he nods, frowning slightly.

“Of course. Makes sense. And… thanks, for keeping an eye out for us…”

Half smiling, she turned and left, heading to GCPD HQ.
Hunkering low on the roof, she waited for any officers taking a smoke break to head back indoors before her masterpiece.
She was currently the most active Bat in Gotham, after all… shouldn't the signal represent that?

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

03/28/2019 03:10 PM 

[TBT '16 Physio: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: TBT '16 Physiowww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Legs extended in front of her, flat against the table, she had her arms wrapped under her thighs, chest against the top of them. Hands pressed on her shoulder blades lightly and she grunted slightly, a wince threatening to form on her face. Once the hands lifted, she unwrapped herself, and slowly sat up, hands running up her legs to her knees as she pushed on them lightly.

“Good. Good… your flexibility is returning Steph. You’ll be as good as new soon enough.”

Doctor Leslie Thompkins smiled lightly at her. Returning the smile, Stephanie started stretching her arms up over her head, twisting at the waist from side to side slowly.

“Well, I’ve been doing the exercise you set me… they help. Are you sure there’s nothing you can do about the nerve damage? I almost burnt my whole butt off setting a shower the other day… it felt fine to my hand…”

She flexes her right hand a few times, looking at it. Doctor Thompkins lightly took her hand in both hers and ran her fingers over the palm, pressing on the inside of the joints slowly, shaking her head.

“Sorry kiddo… until we get better access to equipment that doesn't get stolen by any two bit thug in Gotham and the medical advancements get approved you’re just going to have to try to be careful.”

Leslie paused for a moment.

“Have you been seeing that other doctor I referred you to?”

Averting her eyes, Stephanie cleared her throat slightly before shaking her head.

“No… I can’t afford the hourly rate, and I don’t wanna ask Mom…”

“What about Br-”

“Absolutely not.”

Steph snaps, lifting her head.

“He doesn’t know about any of this. He doesn’t need to either….”

Putting her hands on her hips, Leslie scowled, disappointment and anger etched on her tired face.

“This is how you got into this mess, Stephanie. Blind worship of the Bat.”

“It’s not like that at all!”

Stephanie stands up, frowning.

“It’s all I’m good at, Leslie. I was bad at school, I can’t even pick a major at college. I’m good at this.”

Leslie softened slightly, putting her hands on Stephanie's shoulders.

“Look. I understand that’s how you feel, but I’m sure it’s not true. I’m sure you’re good at other things…”

Steph shakes her head and drops her gaze.

“I was good at piano…. but…”

She raises her hands and wiggles her fingers slightly, the pinky fingers on both hands hardly moving at all.

“That’s not really possible anymore…”

Sighing Steph broke away, scooping up her bag on the way to the door.

“I’ll see you next week, Doc….”

Opening the door and stepping out, she was gone before Doctor Thompkins could say a word. Now out on the streets of Gotham, Stephanie quickly took in the street, noting changes between her entering her appointment and now, and moved on. She walked the few, long blocks home, entered the building and moved to her floor. Two doors away from her own she stopped to slip off her shoes and tucked them under her arm, knowing her mother still had a few hours of sleep before she was off for the graveyard shift at the hospital. Unlocking the door and sliding in quietly, she gently clicked the door closed, crossed the living room and headed to her bedroom, tucking the back pack under the desk, and slumping onto her bed, stifling a groan into her pillow. It wasn’t long before she was asleep, face turned to the side, her breathing slow and steady.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
She was in a dark room, the sound of water dripping couldn’t muffle the sounds of yelling or gunshots she guessed to be a few blocks away. Her arms chained above her head, on some form of piping. She knew bouncing her body weight could break it, but when she last tried, it made so much noise that he came back. That he broke her fingers and shoved a blade into her side. She didn’t want that again. Closing her eyes, her head dropped forward, and she shifted slightly. Every part of her was sore. Her ribs felt broken, from beatings, warm blood slowly ran down her side. Her shoulders felt like they were separating. Her feet blistered and scarred, and she was sure bones were broken. Her fingers. Oh her fingers. She kept trying to move them to stop them from setting in place. Biting down on her lower lip she stifled a scream as best she could, as her fingers moved slightly. The heavy door that was the only way into the room swung open with a loud crashing, and in he walked. White suit and black mask, she stopped moving and raised her eyes to look at him, her face stern.

“Little birdy still won’t sing. We haven’t got any more time to deal with you. I’ll be sure to tell the Bat you never gave his name, even when I killed you…”

He sliced her down from the pipe, and hitting the ground she screamed slightly, curling up with a sob. Pushing her flat into her back with his foot, Black Mask stared down at her, his foot on her chest.

“Night night, Birdy.”

His pistol drawn, he leveled it at her head, and pulled the trigger. Closing her eyes, she was deafened, the bullet making contact with her skull. Snapping awake, Stephanie put her hand to her head, her fingers meeting the raised scar along the top right of her skull, hidden by her hair. Sniffling, she realised she was crying. Moving to the bathroom, her hand still on her scar, she started the water for the shower, and leant on the sink, slowly flexing her toes on the floor. She knew Leslie was right, and she knew she owed her her very life. She was shot in the head, and tortured for almost a week. She was lucky to even be having these nightmares. Undressing she stepped into the shower, and winced slightly at the heat. After a moment of fiddling with the taps, she just held her face under the stream, closing her eyes. It wasn’t long before she heard her mother moving around. Turning off the water Steph cleared her throat slightly and grabbed a towel, before cracking the door open.

“Sorry if I woke you…”

Her mother laughed and moved to the door, patting her cheek.

“Not a problem kiddo… I was getting up anyway. I’ll be off soon, you stay out of trouble, alright? Dinner is in the fridge.”

Steph smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Always, mom. You know me. Never in trouble.”

Listening for her mother to leave she dried, moved to her room and dressed in her Batsuit, slipping out the window. It wasn’t long before she was on a rooftop, joined by the huge form of Batman.

“You’re out early, Batgirl…”

He grumbled, to which she turned and grinned at him.

“You know me, Bats, life of the party… and the party can’t start til I walk in.”

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

03/18/2019 06:34 PM 

[Trouble: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Troublewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
She caved.
Steph finally gave in to the invites on the weekend to go out with her college friends, much to Jordanna’s very vocal annoyance at this point. She told them, via the group message she had been added to, that she'd meet them at the club.

Jordanna: Don't dress like a freak. I know it's almost unavoidable, but try, alright? We don't need one person bringing us down.

Francisco: Jor, rude.

Stephanie: Don't worry your pretty little head. I got this.

This was the first time, probably ever, Steph had actually put in effort, that wasn't for Bat related business, or didn't involve one of the Wayne events. It was an odd feeling. Going with a pair of skinny jeans, ankle boots, a shimmery black camisole top and red leather jacket (something she actually saved up for and shelled out on for herself, because it was cute, and wasn't something 'borrowed' for once), she took her time with her hair and makeup, actually bothering to do both, which may have been a first for this group to see.
Organising a small bag with the important things, she then set off.
By the time she got to the club, her friends were already inside, gathered around a table. Weaving through the dancing masses, Steph joined them, slipping in next to Jordanna, who looked at Steph, then past her, searching, back to her with a scowl, folding her arms. Frowning quizzically, Steph shakes her head slightly and beams at them.

“Howdy friends, sorry I'm a little late, the drive in took a bit longer than I thought.”

“No worries! You look great! You should wear red more often!”

Grinned Michael, causing Francisco to roll his eyes slightly.

“I wore red almost every day for almost two months for a while. I’m good only wearing it occasionally.”

Steph responded automatically. Jordanna nudges her in the side.

“I need the bathroom. Let's go.”

“Oh, sure…”

Getting up, Steph waited for Jordanna, hearing Michael mutter as they started to leave

“Always gotta go in packs. I will never understand.”

Walking across the dance floor with Jordanna, moving slower than she would have usually moved so her brunette companion could keep up in her strappy stiletto heels and spaghetti strap white bodycon mini dress, Steph offered her arm back to Jordanna, to her surprise, actually took it. Reaching the ladies room, Steph pushed open the door and waited for Jordanna to enter, before following. Jordanna folded her arms, and stared at Stephanie, who raised a brow.


“I thought you'd bring your boyfriend! What kinda girl with a boyfriend doesn't bring them when they go out in Gotham?!”

Steph blinked in confusion, before moving out of the doorway, shifting to lean against the sink counter.

“He's out of town for work, this isn't exactly his scene. I'm not sure he would have come even if I invited him.”

Jordanna moved with her, arms folding.

“He's crazy. Don't take this as a complement or think that I like you or anything, because you're still a freak, but if I had a girlfriend that could clean up like you I wouldn't let her out without me. Plus it's just dangerous in Gotham!”

Frowning slightly at her, Steph straightened up, sighing heavily.

“There's so many things wrong with that sentence, I don't know where to start. He and I have known each other for years, long before we started dating. He trusts me, I trust him. I'm not gonna do anything with any random person while I'm out for a night, Jor. And as for Gotham for being dangerous? That's fine. I grew up with a criminal dad, remember? I know how to take care of myself.”

Pausing for a minute, she nodded her head to the stalls behind Jordanna.

“Did you actually have to go?”

“What? No. I just wanted to talk to you away from the boys. I really just wanna know who he is. I'm starting to think political, which is why it's hush hush. You've got an older man.”

Jordanna squints at her. Steph half smiles, offering her arm again, which was taken, as she started to lead Jordanna out again.

“You know, I’ll tell you what. You'll meet him one day. For sure. And you're half right. You can figure out which half.”

“Why do you keep just toying with me? Why won't you just tell me?!”

“Honestly? I've given you enough clues for you to figure it out. If you've been paying attention.”

“Why?! Why are you like this?!”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Halfway across the dance floor, another voice sounds.

“Cris? Is that you?”

Stopping, Steph turned her head in the direction of the voice, to see a group of three males moving towards them. She had to think hard for where she would have known them from, before narrowing her eyes slightly, and leant to Jordanna.

“So, I'll explain later. Stick close, and put this on.”

Shrugging herself out of her jacket and passing it to Jordanna, who frowned in confusion, then seeing the men, who radiated seediness, she quickly pulled it on, pulling it around her, Steph smiling faintly at the one who spoke to her.

“What's up, Reggie?”

“Crissy Brown, You grew up big. Look at you. We thought maybe you were dead, or had left the city. The Boss missed you….”

Looking passed her, to Jordanna, who was now gripping at Steph’s bare arm.

“...Who's your friend?”

Giving Jordanna’s hand a light squeeze, she shifted slightly, moving more between them and her.

“You're sounding mighty creepy, Reg. Clearly I'm not dead. I just quit the business. The Boss got my letter of resignation.”

“Huh… People don't just get to quit…”

“I did… Now if you don't mind, I'm here to have a good time. Don't start something you won't be able to finish, Reggie. Walk away.”

One of the others started to move forward, Steph could see signs that he was high on something.

“Start what, there's three of us, and there's two puny girls. We would kill you!”

Jordanna's grip tightened, to both hands, Steph rested her hand on hers, giving a light pat again.

“Actually, buddy, it would be you three against me, and I'd wipe the floor with you. As for the murdering me thing…”

She took a breath and tilted her head back, letting out a shriek, as security had already been watching. Pointing her finger at them as the men in suits came over, she gasped, the crowd gathering around them.

“They're threatening us!”

Murmurs of agreement, Jordanna nodding as well, as the situation was taken care of.
Leading her back to the table, Jordanna, still clutching at her arm, asks

“How are you so calm right now? That was terrifying!”

“Sweetie, those guys are the type of people I've dealt with my whole life. It's gonna take more than someone threatening my life to spook me.”

“How did he know you… And why was he calling you Crissy?”

Letting out a sigh, Steph had to figure out a way to word the answer.

“For a while, when I was 16, I.. Did some stuff. Don’t even worry about too much, Jor… The less you know the better.”

Jordanna gaped at her, as they returned to the table, sliding back into the seats. While they were gone, the boys had taken the liberty of getting them drinks, Francisco kindly remembering that Steph drove in, getting her a Coke. Looking at them curiously, he frowned slightly.

“What was all that about?”

Steph sipped at her drink, as Jordanna went to take off the jacket, Steph shook her head.

“Give it back to me on Monday. You might need it more than me over the course of the night. Just a hunch.”

Jordanna leant back, and looked at Francisco.

“The Freak's kinda trouble. Badass, but trouble.”

Letting out a reactionary snort of a laugh, Steph leant back in her seat.


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

03/16/2019 08:01 PM 

[New Tactics?: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: New Tactics?www.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Everything hurt.
She was sure that if her hair had nerve endings, every strand of her hair would be screaming in pain right now too.
But she couldn't stay down. That wasn't gonna happen. Not today. Not any day.
Letting out a groan as she rolled to her side, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, doing little more than smear the mess that ran from her nose and mouth across her face, and up the sleeve of her suit.
Somewhere to her left she could hear a voice speaking, through her ringing ears.

“Whadda we do, boss? She just won't stay down?”

Pushing herself slowly to her feet, with a weak chuckle, spitting a glob of blood, and -was that a tooth?- before straightening up with a stagger.

“Idiots. How do we get the drop on a Bat and we still can't take them out?”

Screamed the apparent leader. He had done well so far to not reveal himself. They had all dressed the same. All moved as one. But that was it.

“Here we go.”

A slow grin spread across the bloody face of the blonde, as she darted forward, moving with unexpected quickness of a woman having just endured a beating. Driving a knee into the stomach of the first body between her and her target, she gripped their shoulders, drew back, and drove the knee in again, leaning in to stage whisper.

“That's how that one's done, sweetie. Take notes.”

Before letting go of their shoulders, taking a half step back, and letting them crumple.
The game was on. Panic set in. It was palpable. They were quickly realizing the Batgirl let them get the drop on her. That she hadn't fought back deliberately. Some of the circle around her broke away, running. Steph saw it in her peripheral vision, gaze focused on their leader.

“No, wait. Come back. I was so wanting to play with you guys more!”

She called, not turning her head, the faux innocence and cheer ghastly, as blood started staining the ends of her hair that sat over her shoulders, sitting on her chest, blood dripping from her face.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
“Here's a tip, fellas. If you're trying to keep a Bat down, a beating isn't gonna do it. Try something a little more substantial next time. Maybe a nuke. Cuz bullets and knives don't stop us either.”

Stephanie launched herself at the one the revealed themself to being the leader, fists, elbows, and knees striking at, and felling anyone in her way. Reaching her mark, grabbing him by the collar, she smiled sweetly, a horrible, bloody, toothy smile.

“Hi. You're a little bit screwed, huh buddy?”

There was a whimper of a response, before her smile vanished, like a switch was flicked, and Batgirl drove her cowl covered forehead right into the bridge of the nose of the man, feeling his reflexive grip on her arms grow weak. Now was the time.

“I have questions, you better have answers. What's the dealio. Why you trying to jump Bats? Who's supplying you? And training you?”

The response was a gurgled mumbling, his eyes glazed over. Sighing heavily, she lets him go, dropping him heavily to the ground, before beginning to rummage through his pockets, looking for a phone. Finding one, she tries to unlock it, to find it having a passcode screen lock. The exasperated sighs become growls of frustration.
It was fine. She'd take it to the Firewall and just hack the damn thing. Lesson learnt. Don't lead with the headbutt. No matter how badass it may feel. Pressing a finger to her ear piece, she moved back over to where she got up from, scowling, searching the ground amongst the unconscious bodies.

“Proxy. I'm done here… but I'm gonna need a dentist's appointment tomorrow. And a decent story for why my face is so messed up. Got any ideas?”

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

03/06/2019 06:39 PM 

[Investigation: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Investigationwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Crouched low, eyes fixed on the window four down, three across from her position on the rooftop, she watched for signs of movement.
It had been still for the few moments she had been keeping watch on it, and just wanted to be certain that no landlords, or otherwise would interfere with her investigation. Quickly taking this opportunity to double check her 'case file' on her phone, Stephanie ran over what she knew so far.
Jasmine Lee, age 25, lives alone. No immediate family, co-workers reported her missing Monday after not showing up for work. Kept to herself. No known enemies.
What you always hear when someone goes missing.
Letting out a soft sigh, Steph tucks her phone away and slowly straightens up, rolling her head on her shoulders.

“You're meant to practice the things you're not so good at, right? This case seems simple enough. Shouldn't be anything to mess up. I need to work on investigation. It's a win win, right?”

After a brief pause, when she lines up a shot with the grapple line, firing and swinging across to the other building, slowly lowering herself to the correct window, she mutters.

“Really gotta stop talking to yourself though. Not a good look…”

Gently sliding the winged edge of a batarang under the window jam, she slowly eases it up, before slipping inside, stomach immediately turning at the distinct stench of early decay, faint buzzing not too far to her left. Swallowing hard, she slowly pulled out her phone again, this time to use as a flashlight, pulling her cape to her nose and mouth instinctively, as she swept the beam of light around the room.
There, propped in the corner, very much dead, was a young woman.
Closing her eyes, hanging her head for a moment, Stephanie let out a soft sigh. She had hoped she had just skipped town. Clenching her jaw and taking in a sharp breath, before almost gagging from the smell of carrion, determination set in.
Step one: ID the body.
Sweeping the light around the room again, she looked for some sort of purse, or handbag. Spotting the bag on the coffee table, Steph carefully reached inside, aware to disrupt as little as possible, to look for a driver's licence, a student ID, social security, anything. Pulling a licence out, she confirmed that sadly, it was Jasmine Lee in the corner. Just slightly more, well, dead.
Aware to put it away where she got it from, she returned to Jasmine's side, eyes searching her, for step two.
Cause of death.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
After staring at her for a moment, and then looking around the room slowly, Stephanie, not the most well trained in forensics, concluded the cause of death was repeated stab wounds to the upper torso. There were defensive wounds on her arms, which didn't surprise her at all. Standing up, and tracing the blood, she found the first splatter marks started right at the door. She was attacked as she opened the door? They continued all the way back to the corner, where she was forced. Or she tried to retreat to. Where she died. Hanging her head again, Stephanie closes her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose.
It means whoever attacked her brought the weapon with them. It also means they were someone she would open the door for, right?

“Don't worry, Jasmine. I'll get this sorted. And I'm not gonna leave you here alone again…”

She mumbles softly, returning to the bag, starting to look for a phone, and finding nothing. Taking a look at Jasmine's body, and seeing her pants have pockets, she lets out a soft whine, swaying in place in lieu of stamping her feet, before going over, and rummaging through the poor murdered girls pockets. Finding the phone, Steph sits back on her heels in her crouched position, swipes the screen to life, (luckily with no code) and looks through the messages, call logs, anything, to give her something for step three.
After what felt like forever combing through the messages, and feeling like a right creep, and finding nothing, Steph scowled. Random attacks happen in Gotham all the time, but not in your own home.
She was missing something.
Sliding the phone back into Jasmine's pocket, Steph stopped and sighed, staring at the blood splatter again, willing it to give her answers.
There was something Bruce said once, during her training as Robin about blood splatter and paying attention, and right now she couldn't remember it for the life of her.

“C'mon, Steph, think. Focus. What aren't you seeing?”

She hisses at herself, passing the light over the dark stains on the ground. Large dark smears, streaks from being walked though, small quick drips.


Small quick drips?
Narrowing in on these, she realises they start in the middle of the room, and go towards the door, but aren't near the body. Acting on a hunch, she moves to the door or the apartment, listens intently for a few moments, then quickly opens the door, to see that the small quick drips continue out into the hallway.
Shutting the door with a soft click, Steph has her suspect. No connection needed to the victim, ability to force way into apartment. Stephanie knows first hand how dangerous he can be.
Victor Zsasz.

“Well… sh*t. Now what. I never thought I'd get this far…”

Returning to crouching by Jasmine's body, she couldn't help but to think for a second that if things had gone differently, they would both be scores on that maniacs flesh.
The door flung open, with force. Steph's head snapping around to look, as two uniformed GCPD officers enter, guns drawn.


Steph grimaces from her position next to the body, in the middle of a crime scene that has yet to be reported.

“Uhh. I can explain?”

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

03/03/2019 04:01 PM 

[Belief: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Beliefwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
It wasn’t often that Stephanie Brown was the one that hit the streets of Gotham of a night.
Rare, if ever, really.
Normally it was Batgirl prowling the rooftops and alleyways, darkness and shadow as her friends, hugging her as tightly as the for fitting batsuit did.
Ok, maybe not.
She wasn’t a slinky, shadow creeping badass ninja. She was more a surprise dropkick ‘hi fellas’ kinda Batgirl, but a girl can pretend.
Out and about, seeing the city from the rare ground vantage point, her hands deep in the pockets of her jackets, Steph wandered down the quiet streets. A few blocks away, she could hear the muffled sounds of parties; loud voices, the low distorted rumbling of bass in over cranked music, and general merriment.
People living their lives. Enjoying their lives.
Moving further into the city, even though it was well past 2am, she didn’t feel the least bit unsafe. Sure, that was probably because of who she was, or that she was subconsciously avoiding specific areas while out alone as, well, NOT BATGIRL, Steph stopped into an all night diner, grabbing herself a coffee, sitting in a booth by a window.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
“Girl, you are crazy to be out this late alone. You're gonna get yourself killed.”

The portly, almost grandmotherly waitress shakes her head as she pours the coffee into her mug, Steph grinning brightly.

“Nah, Gothams got my back. You love her, she loves you, that's how it works.”

“Yeah, You ARE crazy.”

Was the only response, before the waitress walked away, shaking her head.
With a shrug, Steph shrugged a shoulder and sipped at the coffee. Wasn’t the first time her positivity was mocked. Wouldn't be the last.
It may have seemed crazy to most in the city, hell, any one that knew Gothams reputation, but she believed in it. That it was beautiful. That the people in it were good. That they could ultimately make it great.
And that's all that mattered to her.

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

02/25/2019 05:23 PM 

[Baby Blues: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Baby Blueswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
No classes on a Tuesday this semester.
Normally Stephanie would hang out on campus, play ping pong, catch up on study that she couldn't do at night, or just generally enjoy the sunshine.
Today, however, she felt like a change of pace.
Absently wandering around Killinger's Department Store, hands in her pockets, Stephanie was content with her window shopping, gazing at the different outfits that were in fashion lately, that she was just not cool enough to pull off.
She would stick with her beat up jeans and tee shirts.
Those studded ankle boots were cute though.
After a lap of one floor, looking at everything at caught her eye, usually something glittery, Stephanie made a move to the food court, bought herself some lunch, and took a seat.
Absently pushing the lettuce of the caesar salad around with her fork before taking a mouthful, her attention was grabbed by a young mother, sitting not too far from her, engaged in a spirited conversation with her daughter, roughly four or five, about whether Batman, Robin and the Bat Family were vampires, as the young girl cheerfully munched chicken nuggets.
The mother 'believed' they must have been vampires. When had her daughter ever seen any of them out in the day time? Little Miss Nuggets disagreed. Her reasoning? Vampires weren't real, don't be silly, Mommy. Batman was.

‘Sound logic. Can't argue with that, Little One.’

Steph nodded to herself, resting her fork against her chin.
Then it hit her.
Her daughter would be about the same age.
Slowly sitting back in her seat, Steph looked down at her half eaten food, not so hungry anymore.
Closing the container, she stood, getting up, and left to do another lap, to try to distract herself.

'Is she a girly girl? A tomboy? What's her favorite color? Favorite food? ...Is she happy? Safe? ...Loved?’

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
The idea of her daughter being unhappy, unsafe, or unloved, some of the very reasons Stephanie gave her up for adoption in the first place caused her eyes to well up on the spot.
Quickly running her forearm across her eyes, she sniffed, deciding to retreat to the car instead.
Setting her forehead against the steering wheel, she took a deep breath, trying to arrange scattered, racing thoughts. Bruce told her when she was dying that her daughter would want for nothing. So he would know where she was, right?
Unless he didn't go through with it, and was just saying anything to try to comfort a dying girl.
What would she do with that information if she did know where she was anyway? Go see her? Then what?
If she's loved and happy, she'd only be hurting herself. And if she wasn't, what was she gonna do, burst in as Batgirl and take the kid away?
Letting out a half sob, half growl of frustration, gritting her teeth, Steph took several slow, deep breaths, sent a 'Heads up, I'm coming over' message to one of her good friends, started the car, and drove.
Letting herself in, dragging her feet slightly, she dropped her backpack to the floor as she shuffled into the living room, with every intention to flop face down on the couch and not move until Jubilee checked her for signs of life, however, she was already sitting there, watching Shogo toddle around on the floor, playing with one of the dozens of toys Steph may or may not have gotten him for Christmas.

“Oh. Hey.”

Steph forces her chirpy tone, and a smile, Jubilee glancing at her.

“Hey Steph. Could you keep an eye on Shogo for a second, I really gotta-”

The subtle urgency in her voice told Steph all she needed to know, and she nodded.

“Go, I got you.”

As the firecracker briskly walked out down the hall, Steph dropped down into a seated position, legs crossed indian style, opening her arms and welcoming the youngster into her lap, getting a soft coo from him as she gave him a cuddle.

“Spoiler is gonna end up spoiling the crap outta you, Shoges. Yeah, I know, I'm not Spoiler anymo-ow!”

Her little speech cut short by him grabbing hold of a handful of her hair and yanking. She couldn't blame him, it was bright yellow, like his mother's favored jacket after all.

But she was going to remember that.

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

02/23/2019 06:58 PM 

[Sentimentality: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Sentimentalitywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Stephanie Brown had long lost touch of her high school friends.
They were the kids for the wrong side of the tracks, the 'alternative, punk scene losers', the 'bad influences'. They were just misunderstood.
They never did anything too bad. But Batgirl had kept an eye on them. Kept them safe. If they started walking down the wrong path, towards the gangs and violence, Batgirl would spook them straight.
Well, straight enough.
She even kept the hangouts clear of gang activity.
The Bat may have caught on to her little act of sentimentality some time back, but had yet to say a word about it, likely because she hadn't reinserted herself into their lives. Stephanie wasn't even sure she still even had their numbers in her phone.
Tonight, on patrol, she swung by, just to check in on them.
It was lucky she did.
She saw some old faces trying to cause trouble.
The Sprang Bridge Soldiers were trying to expand territory, pushing people around, including some of the people she once called friends.
The last time she saw them was a few years ago, when she was Spoiler, and took them down with Tim, when he was Robin. Normally she'd scope them out a bit more, wait to strike, but she vaguely remembered them being pushovers.
So she struck.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Swooping in with a double barrel drop kick to the back of the leader, she wiped them out swiftly.
A lot faster than she expected, really. Quick kicks, sharp strikes. Taking them down, she restrained them with zipties.
Looking up, she had noticed the 'alternative, punk scene losers' had scattered, knowing the GCPD would be on the way.
Repositioning to an overlooking rooftop, she waited for the Sprang Bridge Soldiers kids to get picked up.
Then waited for the scattered kids to return. Relocating, she drew her binoculars to just check them, when she noticed it, on the back wall, beneath the overpass. Among the graffiti, was a mural of a blonde haired, purple wearing Batgirl, swooping in to save them.
Lowering the binoculars, she wipes her face.
A bug must have flown into her eye.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

02/02/2019 10:09 PM 

[The Kid Got Cocky: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: The Kid Got Cockywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
She got cocky.
She'd love to say it wouldn't happen again, but that would be a dirty lie.
She would definitely get caught out like that again, and it would absolutely be her own fault, again, as it always was.
She owned it, at least.
At least everyone was either out of town, or too busy with their own stuff to bother with Stephanie Brown bullsh*t™ so she would be spared the lecture, this time.
Dragging herself to the Ricochet, slowly slumping into position, she activated the recall protocol, with her left eye already swelling shut under the cowl, vaguely aware of herself muttering through the comms.

“Alfred, I'm gonna need a hand getting to the medbay…”

Before slumping backwards in her seat.
The next thing Stephanie remembered, Alfred was talking to her, as he was half dragging her across the Batcave from where the Ricochet is programmed to return to, to the medbay.

“-this time, Miss Stephanie.”

Blinking, or more accurately, winking, with her left eye swollen completely shut at this point, she turned her head gingerly to him, trying to take her weight off him and take steps on her own.

“I missed most of that, Al, I'm sorry.. what?”

Her words were slow, sluggish. She frowned at herself, suspecting a concussion, reaching a hand up to drag the cowl from her head.

“I said, what sort of shenanigans did you find yourself mixed up in this time.”

Alfred repeated calmly, Stephanie clearly not the first bat to need this treatment, easing her onto the ready and waiting clinical bed, in the medbay, Stephanie chuckling absently.

“I love that word… Shenanigans...”

“I'm well aware, that's why I used it. I gathered it would get a response from you. Now that I have your attention, what happened.”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Typically, Stephanie wasn't fond of rehashing screw ups, but Alfred wasn't about to judge or lecture her, simply work out where he needed to examine. Sitting back and sitting down her cowl next to her, pointing to her face, as the Swiss Army Knife of a man they almost insultingly called a butler pulled on a set of surgical gloves.

“I found the Steel Unicorns trying to get a foothold back in Chinatown. Before the Ghost Dragons caught wind of them again I hit them. Full Bat routine. There was one problem… You know how I like to run my mouth..?”

Her voice rises as she trails off, a sure fire tell that she knows she was in the wrong, Alfred's lips pursing slightly in an unimpressed, disapproving manner, yet saying nothing as he shifts a stand light into a better position to examine the swelling, lightly prodding as Steph winces, but continues.

“I asked them how they liked it being run outta town by the little blonde one, not even one of the good, important bats or birds, and next thing I know, everyone is swinging table legs, and chairs, baseball bats, and god only knows what else at me. The good news is they all look worse than I do. And I did remember to call it in before I got in the bike. Dunno whether dispatch took the call serious or not… am I babbling? I feel like I'm babbling…”

She scowls at herself, or at least, as best as she can, with half her face swollen now, Alfred shifting his eyes from the swelling to her open eye for a moment, offering a small smile.

“Just a tad, Miss Stephanie, but it's better than you being unconscious on us again with a concussion. Congratulations, your first of the year.”

Pantomiming throwing confetti from her belt, Steph groaned, and let out a slow sigh.

“Yay me! I’m gonna need a better cowl… can we get Lucius to work on that?”

“Perhaps work on not getting hit in the head so often in the meantime, Miss Stephanie, however, I'm sure it can be arranged. You don’t appear to have a fractured orbital bone, just quite a bit of swelling. How are your ribs?”

She hadn't even noticed she had been hunched over the entire time. Slowly sitting up straight, she hissed slowly, as Alfred watched like a hawk. After a few moments, and a battery of tests, it was concluded that the blonde was lucky, this time, only ending up with bumps, bruises, and her concussion.

“Alright. You are free to go. Perhaps consider taking a night or two off while recovering with the concussion…”

Turning away as he snaps the gloves off, Stephanie snorts a half laugh, slowly getting to her feet.

“It doesn't work on any of them, it won't work on me. Nice try, Al…”

“Perhaps not. But I'm sure you'll rest up if you don't want anyone finding out about your tests.”

Narrowing her eye, Stephanie walked past, lightly jabbing a finger into Alfred's side, a half smirk on her lips.

“Blackmail? I approve, Alfie… you win this round…”

If she didn't know better, she would have sworn Alfred was also smirking, as she left the cave for the manor above, to rest before heading home.

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

01/20/2019 11:52 PM 

[Nocturne: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Nocturnewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Stephanie wasn't sure why it was even still there, she didn't think anyone knew how to play, then again, the Wayne's knew how to do everything, so wouldn't surprise her if at least one of them could play the piano.
Slowly peeking her head around the doorframe, as if on some secret mission, spotting the coast was clear, she made her way over to the grand piano, lightly running her fingertips across the tops of the keys.
It was immaculate, of course, as everything in the manor was, Alfred wouldn't have it any other way, almost too good, too beautiful for someone like her to be touching. Peering into the housing, the lid raised, looking at the strings, she wondered when the last time such a thing had been tuned could have been, and lightly pressed down on a key.
The note hung in the air as she held it down, a small smile crawling across her lips, as she learned it was turned perfectly, as she had hoped. Why wouldn't it be?
Dropping herself onto the bench, stretching her arms up above her head and cracking her fingers, Stephanie began to play.
At first, she ran through slow scales, feeling the difference between the grand piano, and the uprights she had learnt to play on, before stalling, glancing out the window to the grounds of the estate, for something she could remember how to play.
Something more than just some scales, or basic nursery rhymes. She wasn't about to go try looking for sheet music, because she couldn't remember how to read that for the life of her, but the muscle memory was there.
If she could get it started.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
After sitting, scowling for several moments, it clicked, and she began to play.
As she began, Stephanie realised that her fingers weren't moving as smoothly or as fluidly as she would have liked them to. That some of her key presses were too hard, making it sound not quite right to her.
Once she had played the piece, she played it again, determined to get it right.
The more frustrated she got, the worse it started to sound to herself, and halfway through the fourth playthrough, she began to realise what the issue was.
If you spend most nights punching people in the face, you can't expect your hands to maintain the ability to be delicate instruments.
It was fine. She was used to not being perfect at this stage.
Finishing the fourth playthrough of Chopin's Nocturne Op.15 Number 3 in G minor, she hung her head, dropped her hands into her lap and let out a slow sigh.
At least the urge to play wouldn't hit for, like, ever. She was awful.
Stephanie damn near jumped out of her skin when there was polite applause from behind her, yelping as she whipped around to find Alfred Pennyworth smiling at her.

“Miss Stephanie, that was beautiful. I didn't know you could play!”

Frowning in confusion, she got to her feet, tucked the stool back into place and shook her head.

“I can't. That was terrible. I used to be so much better, back before I stopped taking lessons.”

“Nonsense! If that is you playing terribly, then I'm the queen of England.”

Snorting at the mental image of Alfred in the high necked Victorian era gowns and powdered wigs, she shook her head slightly.

“Just don't make a big thing out of it, please…”

Alfred offers a half smile.

“On one condition. You play more often.”

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

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