15168/...of friendliness

...of friendliness
Date of Scene:	31 May 2023
Location:	Gotham Harbor
Synopsis:	Brave Bluebird braves blackness when she leaps into the darkforce dimension.
Cast of Characters:	Blackout, Bluebird

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Blackout has posed:
Gotham Harbor, 10:45pm. Shipping containers all around. There is a medium sized oceanic shipping ship that ships shipping containers docked with people and equipment loading it with more containers. Lots of activity within a well lit, yet long shadowed area. Inland by half a block, there is a climate controlled warehouse with standard parking designed for employees. There is a small business office attached to the warehouse. The lights are off, however, there is the beam of a flashlight being shown around inside the second floor office suite. As if someone is up to something untoward.

Bluebird has posed:
Bluebird drew the short straw for this side of town tonight. Her resting face is very fitting for what shows beneath her mask. That grim sour puss vigilante look in effect as she veers on close to the Port. She was hoping she'd get another BoP to cover, what with her desire to strip a gadget. No such luck. She could use the exercise and air to clear her head, though the Harbor always carries that particular scent to make her nostrils flare.

Managing to catch a glimpse of illumination flitting around the office, she slows her roll. Fingers up to her temples to try and get a better resolution, she runs her tongue over her teeth and commits to investigating from a closer vantage. "Mmmmm...rent-a-cop or riffle-a-cabinet?" she murmers to herself and alights the fences and tries to use as many of the Tetris sea-cans to assist her getting over with a good elevation. The sound of her footfalls depending on the material she trods upon. She doesn't call this in at all. She's got to get her peepers on whether it's just a late night after all.

Blackout has posed:
The material of the shipping crates is steel, the ground is concrete, the roof of the warehouse is concrete bordered and white gravel on tar roofed over aluminum. So makes a crunching noise when walking. The flashlight finds itself steady over a file cabinet. The drawer is opened. The flashlight seems to be held in a mouth or on the side of the head - as if mounted. Pointing down toward the files that are being sifted through. The person doing it is wearing all black. Difficult to make out even with thermal vision lenses. About the same temperature as the room. A file is pulled. Opened and laid atop the other files, pages are being turned. Investigation. There are several windows that appear openable from the outside. Sliding types.

Bluebird has posed:
"Now isn't that interesting." Harper whispers, practically sub-vocally, the fry in her voice making her self-musings crackle 'n pop in her own ears. Bluebird feels goosebumps break out along her forearms. Those sensations that raise the little hairs. The thrill of spying on someone who is strangely hard to get more details on, while they do what looks like a little peekie-look. She tries adjusting her optics again, and is flummoxed again. Harper flicks at her temples, bullying her own equipment for what she assumes is a glitch. When it doesn't resolve, she bites her bottom lip, questing towards the piercing to gnaw upon.

Time to test her own stealthy ways. Bluebird double-checks her gear to see it's secure, and creeps towards an office window. Fingerprints of her gloves pressing the panes of glass and applying increasingly more pressure until the friction hopefully helps the pane of glass budge. All she needs is just enough to get herself a good enough opening. She tries to keep her breathing shallow and act like a ghost, because someone is already aligned with the shadows it seems.

Blackout has posed:
The pane/panel is unlocked. It's somewhat new so it's freshly greased. The window begins to slide open. Yet, the change in pressure, perhaps ambient external noises garner the attention of the perpetrator. He's alerted to the situation. He turns. The silhouette of black on dark and shadowed furniture and white walls can be seen and it can be discerned that he's gazing toward Bluebird. Yet, the mask he wears is completely opaque, no eye, nose, or mouth slits. Just a black solid mask. He freezes a second. Staring. There are no noises coming from him. No sounds of breathing, no vocalizations, nothing.

Bluebird has posed:
It's Bluebird's turn to freeze, half of her inside, half of her outside. Her faux-hawk draped over one side of her face, her expression twists up into a wry almost apologetic grin. It difficult though, because there's something very unnerving about the lack of visual data that she can soak up. It's eerie and to her all the little things that ~don't~ satisfy her curiosity seem practically supernatural, defying common sense. That's so unfair. Her obsession meter is finger-flicked again.

"I totally get it, you just forgot something at work, right?" she offers, her voice a bit dry. "Had to come in late, after-hours, and forgot to turn on the light switch. You also forgot to bring your...face." Did that sound droll and cool? She's trying for it.

Blackout has posed:
The flashlight is seemingly absorbed into the hood/headgear he wears. It wasn't that bright to begin with. Yet, when extinguished, it only makes the room even darker. The sound that resonates from his voice sounds duplicated. As if two voices are speaking in unison, yet off key from one another. Both deep, vibratory. He responds, "It's probably best you forget I was here. You don't want your name associated with this file."

Turning slightly to his right, he closes the file folder and retrieves it with his right hand. It would seem that he keeps her in his peripheral 'vision'. Anticipating her attack. Assessing if she's a hero or a villain by her upcoming actions.

Bluebird has posed:
Bluebird's lips purse and her head inclines, tilting to the side like a mutt hearing a sound beyond human ken. It's really just her still trying to make headway into understanding what she's seeing. The phenomena that's messing with the sounds she hears is doing a number on her again. It's a little infuriating to be denied. "Oh, I'd hate run afoul of some paperwork." she says sarcastically. She hasn't reached for a weapon yet, but she's tense enough in body language.
Bluebird attempts to clear the threshold of the window and pull herself into the office proper, with all the speed of someone trying to tiptoe through a room of tigers. A licking of her lips and she clear her throat. "Sorry, I'm on duty, I can't just turn a blind eye without knowing the reason behind a B&E. I'm not on the payroll of whoever squirts farts into the chair here..." She bats the edge of her coat to make it flap back, expose her holster and baton. "But if someone is breaking the law, that's the kind of thing that gets me all a-tingle.

Blackout has posed:
There's a slight shake of his head; perhaps he doesn't believe or take seriously the words that are coming from her mouth. A slight sigh - also resonate in two distinct pitches. He slips the file into a fold in his 'jacket'. Though it wasn't really a fold, and it doesn't seem like a jacket. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it's armor. Overall, the 'clothing' he wears is bulkier than normal attire and definitely not skin tight. The folder disappears completely and he turns toward her. He queries, "On duty? Then you are law enforcement? If so, why aren't you seeing to enforcing laws that are broken when importing illegal substances, dangerous chemicals...?"

Bluebird has posed:
Bluebird's mouth goes frowny face when the property of the filing cabinet is disappeared into the stranger's possession. That frown gets more severe as she listens longer. A glint of her teeth as her upper lip pulls up. "I do what the Law needs help with, but can't. Me and the girls." She lets that ~s~ slither out for a bit longer. Her hand lowers to her baton.

"Is this activism?" she queries, her footing feeling a bit unstable as she takes some experimental steps closer. To have a nice conversation of course. Or to prepare for a little fisticuffs with some unnerving stranger. "I don't do paperwork, but I do truss up turkeys for the cops when they step wrong. What say you put that back, what ain't your property, you and me step outside?" She cringes inwardly at saying it, and forges onwards. "I ain't about to poo-poo going above and beyond for a good Cause. I love to sink my teeth into a good cause burger. But I'm in the dark here. This is my town, warts and all."

Blackout has posed:
"Your town needs an enema." He states as he pushes the filing cabinet closed behind him while turning toward her, squaring off. His arms drop down to his sides. He looks to the floor where she moved closer, occupying a more proximal space. "And yes. This file gives my employer information that he wants regarding the importing of said substances. The next move is to take steps to stop the activities. Though, I'm going to guess you're going to try to use your stick to stop me. Is this a fair assessment?"

Bluebird has posed:
The comment on her less-than-fair city, while true, sets her teeth on edge. With a huff, she blows air up into the lanky strands of hair obscuring part of her face. A small head toss is added for good measure. Posturing, trying to buy herself time to limber up before things get physical. "Yeeeeah." she says in a low voice. "I ain't gonna preach on proper steps. But, whomever you're answering to, it isn't worth missing the season finale of Throne of Serpents." Her hand goes for the baton, with a twist it'll be nice and electrified. If she gets it into her hand. There's conflict in her, but she's gonna commit. Enough has fallen into slot A, and not all of it absolutely justified but surely after the fact she can make it tally. Surely. A muscle in her cheek twitches. "Fair assessment."

Blackout has posed:
There's a soft hmm that resonates from his throat. She can practically hear his smile. "I appreciate your devotion to your cause. But I haven't the time to stick around for you to realize that you're not going to hurt me with your glowstick. Good luck in your fruitless quest in cleaning up this city."

Then what she may not have expected, a black 3' diameter portal/disk opens beneath his feet and he immediately falls into the opaque darkness of that 'portable hole'.

Bluebird has posed:
A growl actually escapes Bluebird when she's not nearly fast or capable enough to prevent the stranger from pulling a Looney Tunes and starts to slip from sight. Oh gawd, but that tone of voice corkscrews in her ears and rakes along her pride. Throwing shade at her equipment, her town and at their own feets. She attempts to stop it from being a trifecta, rushing forward and bringing her truncheon up to strike. She's too slow.
She moves with all the momentum that fully intends to ~follow~. No guts, not glory. "Come back heeeeere!"

Blackout has posed:
She leaps and dives into the opaque portal. The moment her eyes reach the other side, she will see a broken landscape of irregularity. Think of a black desert with black jagged rocks. Many of those rocks are fixed on the ground. Some are smaller than a bread box, some larger than a VW bug. Others are the size of a house. Then there are those rocks that float within the 'sky'. The ground beneath her feet feels solid, yet loose if she pushes or scuffs her boots. There is a horizon off in the distance. It has a dark purplish hue. There is no 'sound' beyond her breathing and heartbeat she can hear within her own body. There isn't a visible sky, just blackness. She can clearly see herself as if she were illuminated. Yet, she doesn't see the person she followed.

There's gravity here. That gravity pulls her 10 feet from the portal above her to the surreal black ground below. Something she'll need to hit and roll to keep from breaking herself. The portal above her will close before she hits the ground.

Bluebird has posed:
Harper involuntarily sucks in a deep breath once she's through the other side. The shock to her senses is enough to debilitate her reflexes. This isn't rapelling down a brownstone or leaping into a sewer. Her heart pounds in her ears, her respiration challenged. It all becomes a feedback loop, heightening her anxiety and sense of wrongness.

It's not her best landing, but she gives it her best, tucking her shoulder and trying to take most of the punishment on something less critical. Getting a concussion in a place that's already bonkers to her wouldn't be great. Her wrist bends a bit wrong and the breath tries to whoosh completely from her lungs as she rolls along the ground, spilling her MacGuyver'd Stun baton from her grip. She tries to scream out something as she pants, her chest feeling harder to inflate. A slap to her own temples to cycle through different visual spectrums. She winds up scratching along the ground and tries to flip up the overlays over her white eye lenses so she can stare about with her own unaugmented eyes.

Blackout has posed:
There is 'air' that she can breathe. It doesn't have a scent. But she won't risk asphyxiation.

She will then hear the dual resonant voice again and see her baton being lifted. Her eyes will be able to discern the outline of his body against the purplish horizon line and the ambient glow of that purple. But a person wearing all black (vanta black even) in a black environment is a tough visual to make. Additionally, not giving off heat or any radiation, also a limiting factor. Speaking of heat, it's cool in the pocket dimension. Chilling that will creep into the bones soon enough. He asks, "You seriously did not leap into the unknown..." as if a rhetorical statement query. But he continues, "Very brave girl."

Blackout has posed:
He's standing a few yards away from her. Holding the baton, trying to discern the button to push to turn it all sparkly. Fiddling around with it, rolling it in his covered hand. Then he finds the switch, and sparks come to life.

Bluebird has posed:
Bluebird struggles to her feet, a hand raising up to swipe away her faux-hawk, gritty particulate feeling like it's got into places it shouldn't. Her lungs fill and she works on her exercises to get back into control. She'll lose it if she loses ~it~. "Takes more than this to send me over the edge." she says in a shakey voice.

Her blood runs cold when she sees her precious little personal project get hoisted up and activated. She puts on a brave face. Faking it until she makes it. "That's mine. You're trying to get on a roll tonight about property. Gimmie that back, and gimmie back my city."

Blackout has posed:
He seems to shake his head. He says as he clicks off the baton and then tosses it toward her - an underhanded throw as he comments, "Nice toy... But it wouldn't help you here. There are things in this dimension that would be attracted to the illumination. Other creatures are attracted to your life essence. They see it radiating from you. They will hunt you, to consume it. Consume you."

That right hand which tossed the baton back to her flits to his right, her left, and another disk opens where she can see out into the office that they just departed. The disk is 7' in diameter. Thus offering her an egress. "There is your city."

Bluebird has posed:
Bluebird takes a step or two and nabs the baton out of the air. It's galling that it was offered back. She must be a pain in the ass to please on any given day. Still a bit wrong-footed, she readies the weapon in one hand, in case one of those rumoured beasties shows itself. And starts backing towards the glimpse of the office. She's having difficulty being quippy.

"Maybe. But they've never met no one like me yet." she wheezes. "I'm leaving. This place is f-" she aborts and just tries to get to the hole. "Whatever." Flushed and frustrated, she tries to undertake a tactical retreat from this dimension and lick her wounds and find a way to cushion her pride.

Blackout has posed:
He watches her exit. Saying nothing. Though curious and impressed by her spunk and courage. Once she is through, he closes the portal. Leaving her to her own devices and life. Perhaps one day they'll meet again.