6253/The Reunion

The Reunion
Date of Scene:	23 January 2019
Location:	Bludhaven
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Ravager, Nightwing

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Ravager has posed:
The dark and mysterious Ravager stalks along the rooftop as she nears her target, stopping at the fire escape. She glances behind her, probably conscious of being in Nightwing's city as she stalks along, exposed for a second before she hops down onto the fire escape and descends slightly so she can spy the alleyway below. She has a sharp dagger in her hand, looking about ready to use it.

Poised above, Ravager watches as some men file in and out of the alleyway below, using a lone door to go in and out. She watches it closely and that's obviously what she's fixated on, as if waiting for someone or something.

Nightwing has posed:
    Of course, when someone like Ravager finds their way into Bludhaven, it won't be long before Nightwing catches wind of it. He might not have the same level of seeming omniscience as The Batman, but one would be hard pressed to ascertain the difference. It isn't long before a figure is stalking the stalker, a silken shadow clinging to the places where light never seems to reach. Where the darkness of the night congeals into pools like drying blood, deep and black. In this damp and chill Bludhaven winter night, the only telltale sign that he is anything more than a figment of the imagination, or a trick of the eye, is the occasional telltale puff of breath forming a faint puff of mist from where he might be located.

    And the soft, white glow of dead, glassy eyes.

    As Ravager fixates upon her target, those eyes watch her from the darkness above. Nothing more than a silhouette against the reddish, bruised backdrop of a night sky polluted by low hanging clouds and the orange glow of city street lamps.

    "Rose..."

    That voice is quiet. Deep and dark, with a hint of metallic flange to it that makes it seem inhuman. Modulated.

    "I really hope you're not planning on anything messy with that dagger. Not in MY city, at least."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager lifts her gaze from the alleyway just as two men come out and she stands up, making a little noise as she does, which attracts their attention, "What? Oh screw off, Nightwing, is that you?" she asks him, then quickly looks back at the two men who are pulling out their fire-arms. She doesn't have time to jump down and kill them! Nightwing ruined everything! "Dammit!" she lets out.

The two men fire up at Ravager, the few bullets pew pew and ping off the railing as she ducks down, "F*** off, Night--" she begins and then chucks her dagger like a frisbee at one of the thugs, just as he pauses to re-aim and spot her out. She immediately has to duck down again though.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Who else would it be?"

    Even as he says this, Nightwing is rising up from where he had been crouching on the ledge of the roof over the fire escape she had made her roost upon. His eyes are no longer focused on her. Their soft white glow falls onto the men as firearms are drawn and raised. His lips become a taut, thin line, and the edges of his already strong jaw seem sharper, more angled as he tenses it and grits his teeth.

    It all happens within the span of a second. Joe and Moe down there are still pulling weapons up and out of holsters. Ravager is cursing him. Nightwing, however? Nightwing is soaring through the air. His back is arched, his arms straight and held behind him as he just swan dives from the roof without a care in the world. He descends nearly half of the five story building that the costumed pair resides upon before he tucks and rolls into a single aerial somersault, only to suddenly push out and off of the wall with his feet to carry him across the alleyway. Bounding through the air, Nightwing seems to stride so that his foot touches base on the wall opposite Ravager, and just above and beside the door that the men had exited from. From there, he redirects his momentum once more, into laying in a heavy dropping kick at the shoulder of one of the shooters, which should drop him just in time for him to avoid getting himself stabbed by Ravager's flying dagger.

    "Are you seriously going to try to do this? Here?"

Ravager has posed:
Ravager stands up and puts a hand on her hip as she looks down on this Nightwing guy, "Show off," she mutters, and she observes both of the men not stabbed or dead, despite her reckless attacks. "Why don't you butt out for once?" she blurts out.

The impatient and annoyed Ravager raps her fingers on the railing and stares him down, "I only gotta stab /one/ little jackass gun runner. Just one. What the hell? You gonna keep arguing with me?" she says with annoyance rising. She descends down the fire escape so she can yell at him.

Nightwing has posed:
    He had just taken down the one guy of the pair when he had landed that solid dropping kick. While Ravager tells him to "butt out" of his own business, Nightwing is already pulling out a pair of escrima sticks from where they were holstered on his thighs. His svelte form pivots on his heels as the other gunman wheels about to try to fire on him. Nightwing, however, has already closed in past the barrel of the gun, so that when a shot is fired off, the bullet flies off to bury itself into the green steel of a nearby dumpster. In turn, Nightwing locks up the man's arm, wrenching it out of socket with a painful popping sound that makes the gun drop to the ground. A little more force is exterted as Nightwing finishes his spin, which sweeps the gunman off of his feet and swinging around Dick's broad shoulders only to be dumped... hard... on his back against the cold, wet pavement.

    "You're not stabbing ANYBODY here tonight. Not a one," he replies. On the ground at his feet, the guy he had just thrown down starts to get up with a groaning curse. Nightwing just lifts a leg and stomps down with enough force just to make the back of the man's head bounce off the blacktop and render him unconscious. His partner isn't going anywhere with his shoulder completely wrecked from kick.

    "You don't have to do this, Rose. You're not your father. You don't have to live his legacy."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager descends to the street prepared to stab and make a bloody mess of the men but smirks a bit as Nightwing makes quick work of them instead, "I knew you'd be like this," she complains. She leans against the railing as Nightwing kicks and tries out some fancy moves.

Afterward, Ravager lifts off the railing and makes a move to stomp on one of the men, you know, to be "helpful" but Nightwing beats her to it again, "Shut up. Don't talk about my father," she tells him. She looks down at the two men as she stands there above them.

Nightwing has posed:
    "I won't have to talk about him if you stop trying to live in his shadow," Dick says, canting his head to one side as those lifeless white eyes cast their glowering stare onto her, even as his soft, pliant lips curl up at one corner into a lopsided grin that dimples his cheek. Idly, in his hands, he spins the Escrima sticks he clutches, twirling them about his deft fingers. He strides closer to her, his poise and grace seeming inhuman. With his fair skin looking pale against the utter blackness of his costume, save for the vibrant blue that creates a chevron across his chest, and bleeds down each shoulder, his dark hair, and those white eyes, he seems like a specter more than a man of flesh and blood. He's too smooth. His movements make him seem to glide more than walk.

    "You are better than Slade," he continues. "You always were. You're not a bad person. You have a heart, and you know... You know that killing is wrong. You know that this isn't who you are. It's just who he wants you to be. But you've always been better than he ever was."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager crosses her arms like a hurt puppy and turns sidelong to Nightwing, "Whatever," she mutters, "I've never gotten anywhere with heart or feelings. Besides, I'm not working at a f***** coffee shop. I actually had a normal job for a while," she tells him and glances at him again, "For a while but--" she mutters, "At least I'm back in the states, asshole. I don't know what you expect. This is what I do."

Nightwing has posed:
    "You get everywhere with heart and feelings," Grayson replies, giving a faint huff that might have been the start of a chuckle. "Compassion makes you friends. Friends become allies. Allies have your back. That can be anything from saving you when you're down and on the ropes, to helping move your sofa-bed when you need to switch apartments. Trust me, they're equally important..."

    His smile fades, but only somewhat. Though the mask does obscure so much of his emotive expression, due to the sculpted brow and cheekbones and those constantly glowering eyes, his body language shifts, and the softness of his smile make it clear that he feels sympathetic to her. "You can do more than be a coffee shop girl, but that doesn't mean that you need to be a paid killer, either. You can use your aptitudes and your skills to do some real good. Join the Titans. The Justice League. Something. Just..."

    He shrugs his broad shoulders and his proud chest rises as he sucks in a deep breath to release a heavy sigh.

Ravager has posed:
Ravager blurts out, "I'm not a paid killer!" she lets out and frowns, "I'm not a copy of my father. I'm here with a real life. I have one. I just do a little...you know, a little bit of mercenary work, that's not so bad. You make it sound like I'm a supervillain," she explains with a wave of her hand and a shrug.

"The f****** Justice League? Come ON," Ravager whines again, "They'd never trust Deathstroke's Daughter to do anything. Get real."

Nightwing has posed:
    "Mercenary work is the same as being a hired killer, isn't it? You're paid to kill people. It's just dressed up in a manner to look like it's an act of war. It's not, though," he retorts, and even the mask can't hide the way he lifts one brow. Another twirl of a stick between his long, dextrous fingers. "Not a supervillain, no. Just a lost girl who lets herself be used by worse people because she can only think of herself as "Deathstroke's Daughter" rather than as her own person, with her own dreams and thoughts, feelings, and ambitions."

    A beat.

    "You used to have those, you know."

    Drawing closer still, Dick leans in, until they are almost face to face. Those glossy white lenses on his mask slide up, into hidden seams within the black, steely domino mask itself, revealing the ice blue eyes he hides underneath. They fixate on her, focused and unblinking. "Don't be Deathstroke's Daughter. You can be whoever you want. And if the Justice League won't take you, then try someone else. Or you can stay here. With me."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager smirks, "I have a real life. I'm not a supervillain. Deathstroke doesn't have a real life. Not like me," she repeats again like a broken record and fingers her belt with both hands, where her guns are holstered. "It's just a little bit of work," she says as if trying to find a way to be dismissive about it.

As she thinks it over, Ravager looks at Nightwing defensively, almost embarrassedly as if someone would be so patient with her, "Stop," she says and pushes his chest, but only half pushes, "I have to get back to my real life," she tells him, but she doesn't explain more about her pretend real life.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Right. Real life. I got that the first thirty times you said it," Dick says, as he goes with the half shove, his body sort of swaying back to roll with the flow of it, even while he raises a gloved hand to cover hers, keeping it held against his chest. "You can have a real life here. Not one that consists of just a dingy studio apartment with clothes scattered on the floor and packets of ramen to eat every day."

    He steps forward once again, tilting his head to one side and peering down into her face with a half formed smile. "I'm training someone. Bat's orders. I could use some help. She's green. Really green. Someone with your experience could really help us out."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager puts her hand up and looks ready to swat him, "Stop. I do. I have a roommate and she's normal. It's a real life---" she begins and then stops.

She frowns suspiciously, "I think you already trained me for a while," she says and then sighs, "Okay fine. Stop oppressing me, Dad. Gawd," she mock-complains, making her voice sound whiney like a younger version of herself, "Just send me the info."

Nightwing has posed:
    "...don't ever call me Dad again. Dads don't have a body like this. Dad bod is a very definite thing, and that thing is not this," Grayson replies with a lopsided and wolfish grin flirting at the edges of his lips and a glimmer of light in his eyes. Still, he does puff up his chest a little bit. Square his shoulders. Turn from side to side to show off his lean, perfectly sculpted physique.

    "You can tell me all about this "roommate" that's "normal" over lunch. Tomorrow. After you spend a good night of not stabbing and not killing anyone. In my city."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager rolls her eyes, "I was just joking," she explains and then waves her hand back, "Okay fine, but not too many questions," she says and finger waggles at him.

"Fine fine, dang...Nightwing," Ravager says, catching herself from calling him a name or Dad again, "Just send me a text. It's the same number."