1520/Log

Log
Date of Scene:	18 July 2017
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Molly Millions, Red Robin

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Molly Millions has posed:
Somewhere in Gotham, an illegal fight club has broken up, and criminals of every stripe and socio-economic value are starting to filter out into the streets once more. One of those? Happens to be Molly. The black-on-black 'ensemble' is the same as it was in the graveyard. But she's not accompanied by the woman in ruffles and her band of miscreants. Indeed, she's got dark glasses covering her face tonight and is prowling along one of the alleyways at an unhurried clip.

"Sublime should have won!" this, from some drunk low-grade thug bellowed at the far end of the street, and flipped off just as casually by the woman in black, a smile flickering over her face and attention... well, distracted.

Red Robin has posed:
Gotham's an interesting city. There are a vast number of reasons why it's in the state that it is, with crime being well-above that of any nearby city or population center. Some of those reasons can't even be accurately tracked, like the increased number of mentally ill individuals, though there are a number of theories. It's one of those topics the national news networks like to trot experts in on every couple of months to fill time. There is, however, one very simple theory that is supported only by a handful of homeless men and women on the streets:

Too many alleys.

Out of the nearest one to Molly, a gloved hand fires, reaching out to try and wrap a tightly muscled elbow around her throat while a sweeping low kick is launched in an attempt to sweep her legs out from under her. "Hey there," comes a familiar voice as Robin steps out of the shadows and reveals himself to be the attacker, "Shoot any priests lately?"

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly at least saw the hand at the last second and pulls back her head, but she's slow on the low kick. Granted, the thug that was yelling at her is smart enough to decide a crim getting attacked in Gotham is totally a reason to run the hell in the other direction. Which just means that when the black-clad woman hits the pavement there's at least... no back-up visible.

Molly endeavors to roll back to her feet before she's even really registered what the hell happened, scalpel-sharp blades extruding from her fingers as she gains a crouch and her ribs remind her that they're very unhappy at the moment.

"You. Of course it is." is her response,"Shouldn't you be in bed, kid?"

Red Robin has posed:
"I didn't catch that," Robin replies, already moving into his next attack. While Millions was rolling into a crouch, he had retrieved the collapsible bo staff from his bandolier, "Could you say it again?" Still in its much smaller tube form, he flicks it down and around, allowing it to expand mid swing even as it whistles through the air in an underhand blow towards her chin. "You aren't very good at avoiding attention, are you? I've had a harder time tracking the Joker, and he tends to mark everywhere he's going in big purple and green spraypaint. Are you sure you're cut out for such big league players? Maybe you should try knocking over gas stations for a while. Well... if you weren't going to Blackgate anyway..."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions shoves herself to her feet as the bo staff comes out. Apparently for her at least, cutting up kids is still off the menu because the blades slide back into their housing as she jerks her head out of the way of the blow with that same speed and raises her hands in a defensive posture,"You've got a grudge, and I'm the problem?" she rasps with black amusement, hand reaching to try and snatch the bo out of his hands even as she steps in to try and knee him, hard.

"If you're trying to make a name for yourself you're wasting your time with me." she grunts at the same time, the utter lack of response to the Joker jibe almost as if she has no idea who the hell that is,"Go home, I've not got the time for you." or rather, she recognizes that in her current state that this 'kid' is probably more danger than she wants to deal with.

Red Robin has posed:
Robin is once again surprised by Molly's speed, and struggles not to visibly react with surprise which she catches his bo staff. When she yanks, though, he releases it without any fight whatsoever, hoping to let herself jerk off balance while he catches her knee on his braced shin. The plan was to block that strike, lock up her leg, and tip her backwards, hopefully utilizing whatever edge simply letting his bo go would gain him. The problem comes when he blocks the knee, however. The weight behind the blow instead knocks /him/ off balance, sending him skidding back an inch or two before he recovers. "Make a name for myself?" he asks, this time genuinely confused -- he's definitely not the most arogant of the Robins, but still he more or less assumes by now that anyone in Gotham for an extended period of time knows of Batman and Robin, "You're not from around here, are you?"

He front flips, spinning in mid air to give his momentum a sudden angle as his foot arcs out to try and connect a blow to her chin, a move that should land him crouched low to the ground so long as she doesn't interfere somehow. "I don't have a grudge. I need information which you have. Also, you're a killer. Killers go to prison."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions doesn't endeavor to collapse the staff but instead adopts it as her own for the moment as she settles back with it held at a densive angle in front of her,"No, I'm not." she's got no qualms about answering flatly. There's that speed in the way she brings the bo to bear, but she wasn't exactly expecting the mid-air spin and takes the foot to the face, winding back up on her knees with the black glasses on the ground. There's a low noise from her and the glint of those blades again momentarily before she balls the fist and spits on the ground.

One silver lense; the other sockets currently naked, the eye beneath a luminous yellow-green closer to a cat than a person, for all its rounded pupil,"Stalking people counts as an effing grudge, kid, and I'm not going to your damned prison." she's slower about picking herself up, the bo held warily. The bulk says that she has the gun under her arm like last time, but she doesn't reach for it either.

Red Robin has posed:
Robin tilts his head as he peers at her eye, an eyebrow raised in interest. "Fancy contacts," he comments, though his tone suggests he knows full well they aren't contacts. He sighs, though, when she keeps a hold on his bo, "Yeah... Look, since you're not from around here, allow me to explain. You see, there's this guy. Goes by Batman. Goes around, fights crime, occasionally stops worldwide threats. He's kind of... freakishly good at what he does. Loves all these tech gadgets and stuff. He had a partner named Robin. He eventually grew up and became Nightwing. Then there was another Robin who we... don't talk about much." Then he throws his arms out as if to indicate himself with a flourish, "Then there's me, the third Robin. So... To recap. Batman. Robin. Fight crime. Also we have tech." And with that, he presses a button on his gauntlet which releases a signal to a small but powerful battery in his bo staff that tells it to discharge into the handle.

Molly Millions has posed:
The look on Molly's face, that flat to the point of blank expression, it's not that she doesn't believe him. Or that she's not listening, it's that it's a concept that doesn't seem to register to her on any kind of meaningful level. For her it's at least the opportunity to allow some of her systems to try and keep repairing themselves from her bout in the ring and as long as he's not trying to hit her, apparently right now she doesn't feel the urge to try and hit him.

Then, there's the discharge. Of course, it's designed to be disabling to a regular person, but held in her hands, millimeters away from the largest source of metal in her body it has an amplifying effect that she wasn't... expecting, at least to judge from the fact that with her speed she doesn't have the opportunity to let it go before her systems are locked by the electrical charge, the hand holding it flash-seared by the connection to the metal underneath, her body seizing as her augments all decide to lock down and drop her like a stone, just that easy.

Red Robin has posed:
Robin lets out another sigh, as if he regrets activating the staff's defensive measures so early in the fight. It's a sentiment Batman would chastise him for, but he couldn't help it: She was fairly intriguing and he wanted some firsthand information on her abilities. He approaches quickly, though, collects his spent staff, collapses it, and slings it back on his bandolier before leaning down to check on Molly.

His face grows serious. Something's wrong. The staff only contains enough charge for a single shock, and that should only have been about the same power as a heavy-duter taser. It was designed to put down heavy hitters like Croc without killing potentially weaker enemies. She wasn't a several ton crocodile, but she shouldn't be in total seize.

He elects not to diagnose her on the street, though, and quickly scoops her up with a surprised grunt at her weight. He fires a grapple line up to the nearest rooftop and ascends with her, depositing her not ungently before he attempts to take her pulse and diagnose the issue, queing up a dose of adrenaline on his rapid-injector clipped to his belt.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly is definitely heavier than the lean woman has any right to be, by a good thirty pounds, not including the relative light weight of the pistol in its under the shoulder holster. And she doesn't immediately leap up to try and take him out at being moved like dead weight up to the roof. Preliminary examination suggests in the least that she wasn't 'fresh' when she first faced him. Hell there's enough blood on the shirt underneath to suggest she's either been off killing someone... or someone had a pretty good shot at trying to do her.

It's the burn on the back of her hand that probably offers the clue though, the scorch patterned along the underlaying bone structure. She might not quite be the cyborg equivalent of BSOD, but it's going to take a minute for her already belabored systems to find the proverbial reset button.

Red Robin has posed:
Robin lets out a slight sigh of relief as he finds her pulse, but his expression doesn't relax when he notes the blood all over her shirt. While she's unconscious -- or at least pretending to be -- he goes to slap some bat-cuffs on her wrist, but in the process notices the scorch marks. Suddenly intrigued, he leans in for a closer look, examining the pattern as something about it screams its familiarity. It takes him nearly a minute to place it -- it reminds him, somehow, of circuitry. "Implants," he breathes, realization dawning on him, "That explains the claws and your physical capabilities," he mutters to primarily to himself, "But who did this? Who has this level of sophistication in Gotham?"

Molly Millions has posed:
Cuffs are good, because when there's a white flash from the naked eye as Molly's systems come back on there's a sudden jerk of her body that's only magnified when she finds her hands restricted, heels digging in as lizard brain wakes up first straight into fight or flight mode despite the fact that half her systems are screaming about being offline and the rest of them are informing her that the meat side isn't any happier. The sucking in of her breath rough as by instinct she endeavors to scrabble to place a wall at her back and try to get her bearings with all the strung tension and peeled back lips from a snarl like she expects she's going to have to fight to the death without the luxury of waiting for her body to feel like it.

Red Robin has posed:
Robin rises as Molly regains consciousness, folding his cape about his body in clear imitation of the bat. The problem is his cape only comes to about mid shin on him, unlike Bruce's floor-length number. It's also entirely too brightly colored for the same effect to translate. "You're safe," he calls to her, "For now, at least. Tell me what I want to know and you just might stay that way." He stays where he is, not bothering to chase her down considering their location. It was unlikely she'd be able to evade him for long even she did suddenly gain the strength to bolt. "Who do you work for? What are they doing in Gotham?"

Molly Millions has posed:
Somehow, Molly blatantly doesn't believe that given the way she holds her hands out or the look on her face. There's no way she's not hurting right now, and yet effort is definitely being made to project that she's perfectly fine and not at all using the wall just to keep herself upright. She can't quite help but spit to clear her mouth as she regards him.

"I work for me." that's not an answer that costs her anything, for all the rattle in her voice.

She's testing the batcuffs, the slight twist of her wrists to measure just how little room she has to move, whether or not she might be able to pry them apart. As much focus as she has, it's all on him now with an absorbant air as if she's not at all about to dismiss him as a kid again despite the cape and colored costume. She's working on buying herself time, for her systems to damage control but the way she holds herself like a coiled snake, in the least he's got her wary respect now.

Red Robin has posed:
"Cut the act," Robin snaps as he takes a step closer to Molly, attempting to make his eyes flash in the manner he's seen so many times. "Who was with you in that SUV? What was her name, and why. Is. She. Here?" She doesn't know Batman, she doesn't know Robin. She doesn't know the one thing that hardened criminals cling to when they're trying to avoid breaking under interrogation: They won't kill.

In a second there's a batarang in his hands, and the next it's in the air. He lets it sail for a second before he presses a button on his gauntlet and it explodes with muted concussive force. The next moment, three blinking 'rangs are embedded in the wall next to Molly's head. "Tell me what I want to know."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly's watching, that one odd eye occasionally blinking and at least relatively human compared to the empty silver lense of its other side. She doesn't know Robin, or his mentor, and likely that shows when the batarang goes up given the way she launches herself at him, expecting searing rather than concussive force and winding up slammed back up against the wall with force enough to rattle her head. But there's no fear in her face despite the additional ones that find the wall near her. It's blatantly hard for her to focus her pupil in the visible eye and yet that grim determination is certainly flaking itself down to a razor sharp point. There's nothing in her to suggest that she's not taking the inherant threat seriously. In fact, she's probably taking it entirely too seriously given his reticience to kill.

"Last chance." wait, what? Shouldn't that be his line,"You want to survive as a joe, kid... if you're going to kill, do it. But you set those things off and fail to kill me? You wont get to regret that." the questions he asked are ignored, and truth told he'd win a brawl in her current state. There's nothing angry in her voice, if anything it's regretful, a warning that she believes he's going to try and kill her and isn't likely to avoid using her blades as response once she manages to get enough of her together to respond.

Red Robin has posed:
Robin grits his teeth in frustration -- he should have realized Molly was the type to stare death in the eye and not blink. She had that sort of rigid pride to her. "You're making me do this the hard way, and I'd just like to say, I don't appreciate it," he grunts to her as if chastising someone half his age. Without warning, he presses the button on his gauntlet and the batarang flashes rapidly.

Then suddenly it releases a puff of smoke right in Molly's face -- it's not laced with anything -- it's just simple smoke. He approaches her, his hands drawing forth a bit of cord from his belt as he reaches for one of her legs and attempts to wrap and bind the cord around her ankle. Even as he attempts it, though, he's braced, ready for the blows that he knows will come -- or at least he thinks he is.

Molly Millions has posed:
There's a bitter laugh from Molly, which doesn't help when the smoke goes off. One eye is definitely blinded, the other one struggles with smoke but at least has better vision than its uncovered companion. She doesn't stay put, it hurts, but she lurches to knock him down with sheer bodyweight, hand jamming itself up against his neck. But there's no sudden pain, no sign of those razorsharp blades despite her words and the ease with which he's already seen her kill. And if anything, it annoys herself that she can't quite help but snarl at her own reticience to take that simple action. No doubt it's going to be something she's going to pay for, very soon.

The word she utters is unrepeatable in polite company and Japanese in origin, shoving him against the roof before she endeavors to struggle to her feet, the monofiliment lacing in her right arm twitching spasmodically. She's an easy mark in that moment and probably she even knows it on some subconscious level,"You couldn't handle her. She'd bleed you dry little bird." the words she chooses to utter,"Revenge doesn't pay."

Red Robin has posed:
Robin grunts in mild surprise as he's suddenly tackled and knocked to 'floor.' Evidently he didn't think her quite capable of such energetic movement in her current state. It's her statement, however, more than her physical lashing out that keeps him on his back for the moment.

"That's what you still don't get... This isn't about revenge. You think I've never lost a fight? You think I've never been knocked out and beaten? This isn't revenge. This is what I've been trained to do. To hunt down thieves, crooks, and killers. People who do harm to others. I've been taught to find them and bring them down. This isn't revenge."

"This is justice."

With that, he fires his grapple gun, the end of which he'd been winding around her ankle the entire time he was talking. The tether is short but sturdy, and save for some quick action on her part, it should leave her suspended upside down by the leg from the nearest light pole.

Robin eases back to his feet and looks over at Molly with a somber expression. "Tell me what you know about her operation. Either way I'm going after her, and you're going to jail, but this way, you might do it with a clear conscience."

Molly Millions has posed:
Gack. Goddamn kid and his goddamn tricks, Molly wasn't expecting that, at all, and crashing in to the light pole definitely doesn't do her body any favors,"Justice." the word is slurred, but the expression that accompanies with it perhaps sign of how vast the gap in their communication is. Blatant in it's disbelief in such a concept. She can't quite actually laugh at the moment, and the wet gurgle she gives in the attempt is decidedly unhealthy,"This... isn't harm?" she asks. Her on board systems are blatantly insisting that shut down is necessary for the sake of protecting the meat portions, but she's still twitches to try and reach for her own ankle,"This... isn't revenge? Stop li-lieing... to yourself." she's not immortal or with limitless energy, and finally is left to simply sag where she hangs, trying to conserve what energy she has left.

Red Robin has posed:
"Yeah, well," Robin begins, rubbing his side tenderly, "You'll forgive me if I don't exactly take the philosophical rantings of a murderous robot to heart." He punches in his coordinates on his gauntlet as he rolls his shoulder, stretching the muscle and working out some pain induced stiffness. "The GCPD will be along for you... at some point. Probably before morning, at least. So you just... hang out until they get here, alright?" He can't help but grin at that one as he moves to the lip of the roof and leaps down onto the R-cycle that had been idling quietly in the alley the entire time. With a roar, he comes out into the street, pausing momentarily beneath Molly to look up at her, contemplation written all over his cowled features before he revs the bike again and takes off down the street.

Molly Millions has posed:
"Not a robot." Molly insists. Murderous? That she doesn't argue in the slightest, but robot. Well. Probably she's surprised at him moving off. Though she doesn't endeavor to look. It's all about letting Lucy's nanites try to weave enough of her back together. That poor batarang is going to be repurposed by microscopic machines, so eventually? She'll be able to pull herself up high enough to cut the cord and leave a dent in the concrete below for the GCPD to find later. Ass handed to her by a kid. Definitely time to think about retirement.