8835/Bad Old Days

Bad Old Days
Date of Scene:	16 August 2019
Location:	East Park Side (Crime Alley), Old Gotham
Synopsis:	Batman and Oracle encounter Catwoman during a moment of reflection. Do old habits die hard?
Cast of Characters:	Batman, Oracle, Catwoman

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Batman has posed:
It's early.

Not in the evening, but in the year. It's usually November that he finds himself here, in this specific stretch of the city he knows so well he could navigate it blindfolded. But that is always with a specific purpose. Tonight he does not know what drew him to this place. Maybe it's the nearby theater that the youngest of his adopted children has now made his home. Maybe it's the fact that Gotham's beating, black heart makes no concession to respect or decency.

Maybe he's just here because he wants to remember.

The stretch of narrow alleyway that seems so typical of Gotham steams with a hidden significance in the glow of a late summer rain. One rusted iron fire escape clings tentatively to the brickwork, and on it crouches a lone figure in the dark. A mere shadow amongst shadows, a patch of darkness in the antipathetic grey.

In his mind, he tries to bring it up. The scream. The gunshot. The stench of cordite. The hot metal tang of blood. Behind his mask his eyes close.

Oracle has posed:
It's early.

Babs was at the end of her workout, toweling damp read hair pulled back in a ponytail, and on the way to the kitchen for a water-bottle when she spots one of her monitors that is dedicated to Batman's cowl cam. It's not so unusual that he's out this early, perhaps a little odd, but the fact that he's in Crime Alley?

That /is/ odd.

At least for this time of year.

Her brow furrows as she takes a seat at her computer and reaches for the headset hanging from a glass dummy head to slip over her ears, keying up comms through the Bat-channels after clicking on her encryption program.

<Bruce.. you okay?>

It's the disembodied voice of Oracle, but with a bit more inflection in her tone that she usually allows. Not seeing the need to send her communications through the scrubber.

Catwoman has posed:
Crime Alley is named the way it is for obvious reasons, not just for the Wayne murders but the fact it's a hotbed for crime in general. There isn't a whole lot to come here for unless a person is looking for trouble of some kind. From petty crime up to armed robbery, drug deals, mob action and so on, if it's a vice chances are it can be found in this part of Gotham City. With Hook the problem it's become, it'd be no surprise to see it here as well.

While Batman is here for reasons known only to him, there is another figure that moves across the rooftops en route to another destination. Catwoman is on the go, dressed for the sorts of mischief one can only get into when in a snug catsuit and goggles, a silhouette leaping in front of the moon across a gap between tenement buildings. Most of the people who live in them have long since shut themselves in for the night in hope of making it through to another morning in one piece. She appears to have no such concern.

That doesn't mean she isn't alert. Around Gotham, especially one such as her, one must always be on the lookout. It would be easy to miss a shadowed, cloaked man on the fire escape, however.

Batman has posed:
Oracle's question through the headset built into his cowl does not earn an immediate reply. He remains still, blue eyes fixed on a patch of rain-soaked pavement below. There's nothing special about it to the untrained eye, and even his trained one is uncertain if it was that spot. Perhaps it was that one over there? Or there, by the door? The imagery of that night moves like fire through smoke, at the same time in sharp relief and infuriatingly out of focus.

"Company on the roof," he speaks into the sub-vocal microphone fitted about his throat, already turning to climb deftly back up the fire escape towards the rooftop, "No one else patrolling out here. Who is it?"

He climbs upwards, not making his presence known but nevertheless moving towards the sound of Catwoman's trek across the rooftops of Gotham's East Park Side.

Oracle has posed:
Babs is already bringing up the case file on the Wayne murder upon seeing Batman's location on her map of Gotham, now zeroed in enough to give her a clear indication of the bylanes and alleys that snake through the towering tennaments and business. Many of them may be burned out husks or squats, but others still have the very base traces of life... real life.. Not that she can see that from her Clocktower.

She doesn't bother showing him the exact spot, deducing by the way he's looking across the alley that he's not precisely sure where the murder took place. It wouldn't help him. Whatever brought him here tonight, and she's got a pretty good idea what that is too, is something far more purposeful than honoring that event.

<I don't know, but I'll get a drone airborne.>

She keys up the launch program for one of her drones, tucked away down the block behind an heating vent on a building long since condemned, to send the hovering eye buzzing in the direction Bruce indicated. Her fingers are blazing over the keys, using backdoors installed in city works to get camera footage for two blocks in small windows all across her main-screen. None of them have a good vantage, but if the unknown figure drops down to ground level, she might be able to get a scan.

Catwoman has posed:
Making her way to the surface does not usually serve Catwoman's benefit unless there's a reason to go down there, a reason such as no clear way forward along the rooftops, a convenient shortcut, simply leaving the area with a vehicle, or to get out of someone's line of sight.

None of those scenarios are in the cards at the moment. In fact, she pauses to rummage around within her shoulder bag and come up with a granola bar of all things. A quick bite in the middle of the night? She's yet to determine how long she'll be out, and doing anything on an empty stomach is no bueno.

If the drone ends up high enough, it might pick out her form before Batman does.

Batman has posed:
There are predators in Gotham. The kind who don't dress like bats and who lack the sentimentality of leaving lingering injury over swift, efficient death. Batman has faced them before, and if they are out tonight he will not walk into them blind.

He doesn't immediately ascend to the rooftop that Catwoman has paused on, remaining low and with his back pressed firmly against the crumbling brickwork. The heads-up display of his cowl adjusts to share the drone's eye view as a picture in picture, yet it isn't close enough yet to be made out.

"Could be the League assassins hunting Talia," Batman explains over the communications channel, "Or mercenaries chasing down the hits on the Continental's list. Didn't think there'd be any in Gotham stupid enough to take mine, but could be an outsider."

A pause, the frustrated wait for the drone to reach the location.

"Or something else entirely."

Oracle has posed:
The drones were built for a lot of things, but speed was paramount.

They're very expensive pieces of machinary, so she can't afford to put an endless amount of them everywhere. Enough to get anywhere in an area quickly, so it does that. Enough defensive capabilities to keep something from capturing it.. so it does that too.. and the best surveylance equipment money can buy.

Babs hand dances across the controls with a practiced ease with her thumb and pinky finger to shift it into position above the silhouette she can see off in the distance... clicking through magnifications until she's a clear enough image for at least a visual indetification, if not any kind of scan.

<I thought about that.> League assassins or the mercinaries contracted to take out the names on that list.

Catwoman has posed:
The snack finished in a few bites, Catwoman even stuffs the wrapper back in her bag. For someone as notorious as she is when it comes to thievery, at least she isn't contributing to the litter problems around the city. What would one more thing have been in this neighborhood, really?

Beginning to turn toward the northeast, the direction of Cobble Hill, she pauses and reaches to the side of her goggles. An adjustment followed by a slow turn back leads to a squinting expression as the hand lowers back to her side, resting against a hip. The other cradles the handle of the bullwhip at the other side.

It would seem one has spotted the other, and vice versa.

Batman has posed:
It's the crackling of the snack wrapper that causes Batman's brow to furrow, the notion of hardened mercenaries pausing for lunch something he finds difficult to parse. When the drone confirms an identity - a familiar outline that he doesn't even require a magnified image to identify - he moves.

"Catwoman," the Bat says, standing now on the roof and slowly crossing the short gulf but nevertheless leaving space, "Midnight stroll?"

He doesn't speak his concerns, but one hand beneath his cape begins to pat his middle and ring fingers against a sensor in the center of his palm. On Oracle's screen, the morse code is swiftly translated into English characters by sophisticated software.

Should not be threat. Status: Caution. Cover angles with drone.

Oracle has posed:
Babs brings the drone in closer, but keeps it above and in the darkness of the rainclouds above them so that it would be difficult to spot against the occational flash of lightning.

In the Clocktower, Babs pulls the towel from her neck and tosses it towards the couch, and reaches instead for a cup of cold coffee from sometime earlier this afternoon. It's not the greatest taste, but it'll suffice, as she reads the words scrolling across her screen with a brisk nod.

<Understood.>

Not that she would suggest otherwise.

Her feet come up to cross on the edge of the desk, wiggling her newly painted toes, with the cold mug sitting against her sweat damp legs. "Well this is better than daytime television."

Catwoman has posed:
Ah, but Catwoman is always a threat. Batman ought to know better than anyone, even if they're not at each other's throats at the moment. There may always be that underlying question of not if, but when she will betray someone's trust.

Right?

But, what if? It's easily been weeks since the last report of any sort of theft in Gotham that fit her particular brand of catburglary. Even a museum exhibit featuring various cat-themed works of art from past civilizations has sat untouched.

That has taken a great deal of self control, but no matter.

"Batman," she returns, drumming fingers against the hip without the whip. As is typical for her, only the area of the face shows any visible skin at all. It's nearly the same amount of mystery as Batman keeps in place. "Surveying my domain," she quips, putting an expression to the words with a teased smile. "Not tailing me, are you? It's been a while since I went out with one of those."

Gotham City After Dark. It's the best show around!

Batman has posed:
"If I'm tailing you and you're only noticing now," Batman answers with a faint smirk, "Then you're either getting sloppy, or you've managed to get me to overestimate your abilities by a wide margin. Considering I don't make errors in calculation, I know the way I'm leaning."

The little jibe out of the way, he takes a moment to slowly turn his head and survey the rooftops. If this is Catwoman's domain, it is couched in the city that is his. When his attention turns back to her, he is laser-focused.

"Noticed the Treasures of Bastet exhibit hasn't had any unexpected visitors. Surprised you could resist that one."

Perhaps it's a compliment, or maybe it just another subtle dig. As weird as it may be, it's what amounts to shop talk for Gotham's rooftop set. The strangeness of it all is the Dark Knight's levity. He's not happy - even Oracle has never seen him truly happy - but he seems ... oddly contented. As though the weight that always seems to crush him from above has lessened. Even the Cat may notice.

Oracle has posed:
Babs, glances around for some kind of snack and finds a half box of cheezits resting up alongside one of her many monitors. It's close enough that she need only bend a little to grab it, the lid is flipped open as she settles back into position with the box held by her clinched thighs.

"Will they kiss? Will they break into brawl?" Slurrrrp, the mug is set aside in favor of the cheezits, pouring out a handful into one palm and tossing them into her open mouth with the carton slipped back away out of sight on her desk.

Babs notes, in so far as the oddity of it, the contentment on the Batman's visible face and body language... and for a second she's scowling. Chewing a small cheesy cracker as if it is the reason for it, until the expression smooths and she resumes watching.

Catwoman has posed:
Catwoman retorts, "Don't limit yourself to just two possibilities. You're smarter than that," but she gives nothing away as to whatever the true answer may be - one of his or something completely different. Fact is, he's normally the one coming from above, not below. The woman in the sleek catsuit holds position with his approach, perhaps daring the Bat to close the gap further.

"Those things?" is how she handles his comment about the Bastet treasures. "I've swiped better more than once. If I really wanted them, I'd already have them." So what's the game? Stealing things of that nature is right up her alley, so it must be taking a high level of self-control to leave them there.

Dig or compliment, she crosses her arms beneath her bosom, outlined clearly by the cut of the catsuit. "You know I've heard someone really wants you and a lot of other people dead over this Hook stuff. Still making friends in the criminal underworld, aren't you?" Whatever his current mood is, she's not buying too much into it yet. "They must think someone out there can pull it off."

Batman has posed:
"Is that why you're here?" Batman asks, his demeanor becoming a little less friendly as Catwoman voices that particular complication, "I would have thought contract killing was outside your wheelhouse."

He doesn't cover the distance, instead staying where he is with the cape drawn close to conceal much of him. He gives nothing away, still as a statue save for the faintest shifting from his breathing. The white eyelets of his cowl do not even blink, making it difficult to see if he's even alive until he speaks again.

"I interfered with their operations. They made a mistake coming to Gotham. They made another mistake thinking to target me or my people."

Oracle has posed:
Babs frowns a little and tosses another cheezit into her open mouth, watching the pair converse about sentences of death by gangsters from afar.

There's none on her, that she's heard of, and few would be silly enough to try and make good on one for Batman. That left Stephanie.

The last cheezit sails into her mouth and she washes it down with another cold drink of coffee. Nudging at the control stick of the drone to shift it a little into a new position after it was blone slightly off target by the wind.

Catwoman has posed:
The Cat affixes the Bat with quite the look and eyeroll when he questions her on the mention of the hit list, leading to her turning away from him long enough to find an air conditioning unit to plant her backside atop of, crossing her legs at the knees as she sits. In fact, she completely ignores the question of contract killing being something she might do.

"You must have your hands full dealing with that. I hear it's spreading everywhere. Gotham, New York City, other parts of the country. Someone's really pushing it hard," she remarks. For a few seconds, the lounging Feline Fatale surveys the area around her, as if in search of anything that may be out of place, unexpected.

"Wasn't this area where the Waynes got killed?"

Batman has posed:
"Are you still gathering intel?" Batman turns his head slightly, addressing something that isn't there as though it were omnipresent, "Oracle, run a check on any of our Continental leads and see if Catwoman's name is on any of the lists they're distributing."

When the Cat asks her follow up question, however, all the levity that he might have had moments before drains out of him like it were bleeding out of him. He looks for a moment down to the alleyway below, his answer only one word.

"Yes."

Catwoman has posed:
Catwoman tells Batman, "There are a few things I may have to get a little more creative with to find what I'm looking for." If she told him of those plans, it really wouldn't do. There's a reason secrets are what they are. It's important to maintain them.

"Oh, is she watching all of this?" The question is raised just after Oracle is brought up, leading to her practically purring. "Guess I should be on my absolute /best/ behavior, in that case." Which, so far, has mostly been the case anyhow. There is nothing they will find to connect her to Hook in any way. It doesn't even seem as if she's been involved in hindering its distribution.

What draws more of her focus is the way Batman changes at the mention of the Waynes, as if there's more to this than it seems. What would cause him to react like that? "It's a shame. Children are supposed to eventually bury their parents, but not at that young an age. Bruce Wayne must be quite a strong man to have come out of that the way he has, but that has to leave scars."

Batman has posed:
"Bruce Wayne's your friend," Batman replies, unmistakable contempt in his voice as he speaks the name, "You can tell me how strong and scarred idle billionaires are from the tops of their ivory towers. Maybe you can discuss it over champagne?"

The question about Oracle is answered flatly, the Dark Knight once again cold and stoic: "Oracle watches everything. Regardless of your behavior. If your name was on a hit list, would you go out without backup?"

He would, of course, but it's difficult to keep Barbara from watching over him when she essentially is the Family's computer network.

"If you hear anymore on Hook, let me know. I need another sample."

Oracle has posed:
<I have a sample of Hook one of my agents brought in. Come by after you are done and I will give you enough for analysis. I need it for a project, though.>

Babs says while going through a series of contacts to see if Catwoman pops up on any of them.

<Scan is running on the Continential for Catwoman, should only be a few minutes at most.>

Catwoman has posed:
"Maybe I would if I really knew him," Catwoman retorts, and there's a momentary flash of something that almost seems like a wound or a mark made on her, given the severity of his reaction. The hostility she picks up from him just in mentioning the name is taken as akin to a slap across the face, and she swings her legs and the rest of herself off of the metal box she'd been on.

More distantly, guardedly, she acknowledges, "Of course she watches everything." But that's all she has to say about the matter, and a rolled shoulder, a shrug, is all he gets out of her about the Hook matter before she says, "It sounds like you don't really need /my/ help with that. Isn't it what you've trained all of your understudies for?"

Whether he was speaking to her or Oracle, it doesn't really matter at the moment. She isn't privy to what she's telling him in response. While that's taking place she's putting more room between herself and the Bat, closing the distance toward the gap across to an adjacent rooftop. Not even a 'see you around' this time.

Batman has posed:
The secret identity game is a rough one.

It would be easier, certainly, to let Catwoman know who he is behind the mask. Maybe then he'd know who she was? All the talk about strength and scars, he can't help but feel like she must know the man. Know him. It's difficult to not think of himself as an almost separate entity sometimes. The mask of Bruce Wayne so different from that of the Batman.

It's a ploy to push her away from Bruce Wayne. The sense of an enmity there might mask the truth of it all. But it comes with the price of damaging bridges that are still being mended. Maybe it would be easier to just end the whole charade now. If he'd worried about Catwoman trusting him, maybe taking that step and showing her the man who is Batman would bridge the gulf between them.

Or maybe it would just bring the whole house of cards tumbling down.

Unacceptable risk.

He doesn't call out to stop her, turning instead to walk in the opposite direction as he addresses Oracle over the comm: "Forward the scan results to the Car's HUD when you have them."

Catwoman has posed:
There are no further words from the woman in the catsuit as she leaves the area. In fact, whatever her plans for the night had been, they're set aside in exchange for an early return back to the place she calls home. From there, the half-cowl and goggles are flung off as soon as they're loosened up, followed by the claw-tipped gloves. There's only so hard they can be thrown down, but thrown down they are.

New plans shall be worked on. Perhaps she'll just get those treasures for herself after all. Batman has everything covered with all the rest. He always does, doesn't he? What would he really need her for, as a career criminal? Look what happened when she tried to show some empathy over what happened to the Waynes - Batman flung it right back in her face, and Bruce hasn't even seemed to want to have her, as Selina, back over to the Manor to talk plans.

Distracting herself from both of them by planning a new heist will get her feeling right again...won't it?

Or, perhaps she should look closer into this Hook problem and see what it is about the drug that's causing so much trouble. It can't be /that/ addicting, can it? She's done her share in the past when she was feeling especially invulnerable and destructive.

There may only be one way to find out.