Roleplaying Log: Crash
IC Details

While Batgirl tracks the murderous and violent Huntress, a man on fire crashes into a dumpster in the Narrows. Conflict arises. As it does. Welcome to Gotham.

Other Characters Referenced: Batman
IC Date: December 07, 2018
IC Location: The Narrows, Gotham City
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 10 Dec 2018 17:39
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for Language
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits: None
Associated Plots

"Woo-HOOOooo!! This is amazing!!"

High up in the night sky, a brilliant streak of blazing light.

"I dunno how fast I'm going, do you know how fast I'm going 'cuz I seriously don't have a speedometer handy."

The source of the oddly one-sided conversation, a figure wreathed in said light, tearing across the sky at an incredible speed. It's probably not the first of such strange sightings, but ever since the accident in New York, Ronnie Raymond and Martin Stein had come to some agreement concerning their decidedly new state of being; they had a lot to work out, and given the legislative temperature of late, probably better not to be caught in public with any potential screw-ups while they did so.

"Where the who what now? UUuuuhhhh… Aw geez, Prof, how'm I supposed to keep track of where we are when we're this high up?! Don't worry, easy fix! I'll just fly lower!

"…wait what's thaAAAH! Chopper!"

That line of light suddenly veers downwards from its close-call with a helicopter, its beam of light swinging around but too late as the streak goes angling sharply out of its path.

* * *

Zipping along one of the many only-slightly-icy streets in Gotham, a matte black Ducati is headed toward where a local drug dealer indicated their supplier could be found. Said drug dealer was left with dislocated thumbs, at least one broken leg, and likely a baker's dozen rib fractures.

Slowing to take a turn, the bike's driver, clad in black and purple with white accents happens to look up just as a streak of light narrowly misses an overhead helicoper and goes angling away. Coming to an abrupt-ish stop on slushy streets is NOTHING like loose caliche, but a bit of wrestling with the snarling machine manages it and its driver only took a spill maybe twice in the process.

"The hell was that?" Huntress breathes to herself, but having made a mental note of the path the light-streak took, she spins her bike around with a rev of its engine and accelerates in that direction.

* * *

This is the second night she has had to be in the Narrows, the second night where she is waiting for find the next bodies of those meeting a murderous end. Justice served. Batgirl is up on the edge of the rooftop of an apartment building — a building that should probably be condemned by now, but this is the Narrows. Her eyes are down, looking over the streets.

She did not come here to look for falling stars. But then the light catches the deep shadows of the neighborhood, and she slowly lifts her head toward it with a furrowed brow. She watches the streak, tracking it. Across her iris, her new HUD begins to calculate a feasible trajectory of the U.F.O. and its streak. She slowly begins to stand, her silhouette long on the rooftop.

She had heard the sound of Helena's bike, but her focus is rapt on the falling object. She pulls out her grappler, and her line, and starts the swinging advance toward the direction her HUD tells her the impact will be. She keeps high while Helena travels low, neither knowing that they are heading for the same location.

* * *

Flying…is not as easy as it looks- especially when you've been traveling at top speed and suddenly had to change direction. The buildings below are coming up a lot more quickly than Ronnie likes. They're much too close, and difficult to make out for how dimly lit the area appears to be.

"Airbrakes! Mmf-!" Narrowly managing not to clip a rooftop or a wall, the blazing U.F.O. however does not manage to miss the clotheslines stretching between buildings of the particular alley he finds himself angling down. His field of vision blacked out by someone's hanging shirt, Ronnie rips it from his face, only to find ground level much more closer than he'd last checked.

Even without nifty gizmos his flight (or is it fall) isn't difficult to track, the glow from his passing flickering across the walls, and before him, only a dumpster to break his fall.

"Professorrrrrr—?!" he yelps, eyes wide as he thrusts his hands forward. Light encircles them and his dumpster landing pad, the latter of which he makes contact with abruptly a handful of seconds later. There's a hollow metallic thump and the sound of angry cats before several go darting out of the alley, their scavenging having been rudely interrupted. The old dumpster's been knocked away from the wall, light flickering from within like someone's dropped a torch into it. There's also a liberal scattering of styrofoam packing peanuts around it.

* * *

Huntress zig-zags her way through the streets, and then does finally take a tumble from her Ducati when she brakes too-suddenly to avoid the cats bolting out of the alleyway. "DAMNIT that hurt," she complains through gritted teeth, but almost immdiately picks herself up and goes to rescue her Ducati, hoping like hell it didn't just get all scuffed up. Because that would just MAKE her night.

The flickering residual light from the alley gets her attention as she's hefting the bike back onto its wheels, and she pushes it to rest along the curb (on its kickstand, you heathens) before drawing her crossbow and approaching the alley entrance cautiously.

Whatever that streak of light was, it's in… that dumpster there.

* * *

Batgirl drops to the balcony of a darkened apartment, standing on the precarious edge of the very narrow railing. The balcony is filled with trash and wrecked patio furniture. She manages to alight at this place just as the flying man — she has decided it is a man — crashes through the clothesline and into the dumpster. A faint laugh hums at her lips, but it barely lasts a heartbeat before the motorcycle appears in the front of the alley. She recognizes it, but only from witness reports. Her mouth sets into a hard frown.

She quietly unwinds her line from the silent dispenser on her belt, hooks it to the balcony, and makes a slow descent down to alight on the dirty cement. She's in the alley now, but back into the shadows so she is hard to see. She ducks low, tracking the movements of Huntress and her bow toward the dumpster, deciding to wait… and see… and then appropriately interrupt.

* * *


A groan comes from the dumpster, the glow within moving a bit. Well, whoever's landed there has certainly survived.

As Huntress makes her approach she'll be able to see the hand that reaches out and gropes about at the edge of the metal confines, sheathed in a yellow glove as fingers finally find the bearings to tighten around the lip of the dumpster. Soon enough the other hand follows suit before the young man attached to them manages to lever himself up high enough to drape an arm over. He breathes a sigh, one part exhausted and the other in relief.

"…so yeah, Iiii think that went pretty well, how 'bout you?" he asks seemingly no one, laughing in that way of one who still somehow manages to find themselves alive after such a spectacular fail. Young by the sound of his voice, garbed in red and yellow, perhaps somewhat on the bright end of colorschemes when compared to the neighborhood. In place of hair his head seems to be on fire, save that nothing smells like it's burning, even for his rough landing.

Distractedly he picks at a few styrofoam peanuts that have clung to his sleeves when he suddenly realizes he's not quite alone. It's difficult to make out details especially when he's the brightest thing in the alley, but he squints towards the alleyway opening.

* * *

Okay, while Huntress can't honestly say WHAT she was expecting to find chasing that streak of light that feel from the sky, a chatty young man with literally flaming hair was NOT it. She's surprised enough that she actually just stares for a few seconds before gathering her wits again. And when she does, the crossbow snaps back up to aim at DumpsterMan's fiery head.

"Who the hell are you? And why did you try to run into that helicopter?"

Maybe not the best starting questions, but she's ind of out of her element here.

* * *

The groan draws Batgirl down the alley after Huntress, still tight against the wall and in the shadows of the balconies overhead. Only until she gets close enough to hear the voices, tilting her head slightly to let the ears of her cowl pick up and amplify it in the almost undetectable earbud tucked in her left ear. The one-sided conversation piques her interest, because she cannot at all hear the other side of it… like the person in the dumpster is indeed talking to himself.

Then she takes in the sight of the luminous glow that comes out of the dumpster, and she slowly unslots the bolas from her belt. The weight is dropped low, but not so low it touches the ground. When Huntress aims her crossbow, she steps into clear view — cape and cowl and purple motocross leathers.

"Drop the crossbow." Then she looks at the flaming-haired man, and she hesitates. "And stay where you are."

* * *

About the time that Firestorm's eyes adjust enough to things is just about when he registers there's a weapon being aimed at him. "Whoa-!" He nearly falls back into the dumpster again as he flails, clinging back onto the rusted edge. It allows him a chance to actually take in the person who's holding him up at crossbow point. "…whooooa."

Ronald, focus?

"Buh? Oh!" With the internal reminder that he'd been spoken to, the young stranger perks back up as he tries to recall the questions. "Easy! Hey! I was just-" he starts, but more movement in the darkness draws his attention, especially as another masked woman steps into his glow.

"Uh…" Awkwardly glancing between the two, he lifts his hands after making sure he's securely hooked his arms over the dumpster's lip so he won't take another tumble. "Sure? Although I'd really like to get out of the dumpster some time, just sayin'." At least it's no longer filled with garbage, but it's still a dumpster.

* * *

You know that niggling feeling you get when you think someone is watching you? Huntress has had that since she stepped into the alley, but she'd been dismissing it. STUPID. At the other woman's words, the crossbow promptly snaps over to aim at her instead of DumpsterMan and she replies to the command with a scoff. Shyeah. Dream on.

"How about no," she says to the Bat. Because that's clearly who she is. Damnit. She'd been careful to avoid them so far, mostly because they're so damned territorial. Should be the Feral Cats or something.

When DumpsterMan mentions wanting to get out of said dumpster, she tries to mentally calculate if she can take the man's distraction as a chance to get back to her bike and get gone.

* * *

Batgirl's stance squares slightly, shifting her foot back a step while also continuing to maintain her grip on her bolas. It sways slowly, threateningly. She glances between the flame-crowned man and then the Huntress, and she tips her chin down in a single nod. "Alright, get out of the dumpster."

Then she advances another step, and another, and the bolas continues to sway. "You don't need the weapon. It won't solve anything in this moment, so put it away."

Her blue eyes flit toward Firestorm and then to Huntress, and she waits — because right now, she's ready to throw the bolas at either of them if this turns dark, or deadly, or worse.

* * *

Clearly the least paranoid of the odd trio, Firestorm beams over at Batgirl, vaulting out of the dumpster with ease. He trails more packing peanuts, and apparently the entire contents of the dumpster seems to be made up of them. Seeing that he's still got some sticking to him, he scowls as he tries to brush them off. "Next time, pillows," he mutters.

The tension between the two women seems to go right over his head as he battles it out with clingy styrofoam. Eventually he's satisfied that he's gotten rid of everything enough for him to tune back into whatever's going on between the locals. Wait, locals?

Eyes narrow as he finally takes the time to look about his surroundings, nothing of which really tells him much given they're in an alley, so he next studies the two women. Huntress, he might not recognize, but bat symbols on the other hand. Looking very confused, he meekly raises a hand as though he were in class.

"Er, quick question but uh… Where is this anyway?"

* * *

Even though DumpsterMan is clearly clambering out of the metal container and all that, Huntress still has her crossbow aimed at The Bat, because she is clearly the greater threat right now. Matchstick seems more befuddled than anything.

"It solves you trying to throw that rope thing at me," is her brusque reply to Batgirl. You put your toy away, I'll do the same." And not an instant sooner. And while Batgirl is advancing on them, Huntress takes only one step back before holding her ground. If she backs up too much, she'll be out on the sidewalk and about as subtle a red bikini at a funeral. No thanks.

And then, Matchstick is at it again. He asks WHERE they are, and her eyes flick toward him. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

* * *

That takes some thoughtful silence from Batgirl. She actually has ignored Firestorm for an unfortunate few seconds because she is blinking sharply when he asks the question once more. She pivots lightly, turning toward him despite the sway of the bolas in her hand. She actually looks back toward Huntress briefly as if trying to get her own bearings.

Then she remembers… he had been flying… her head tilts slightly aside. "Welcome to Gotham," Batgirl says before she glances back toward Huntress. The bolas is quickly tugged up, twisting up into a series of loops with a casual, trained gesture. She frowns slightly, and her eyes sweep up across the woman before she steps forward.

"Alright, put it away." Those words are said without actual ire for the Huntress, but there's no way for her to hide her caution. As she approaches Firestorm, she purposefully keeps herself half-tilted toward Helena.

* * *

"I was just asking!!" Yow, this lady's touchy! Turning his frown from Huntress, Firestorm looks over at Batgirl then as she provides him with an actual answer by way of welcome. "Oh thanks- wait! Rewind that, did you say Gotham??"

That would explain things. Just a little.

"O-Em-Gee Prof! We actually flew all the way from New York to Gotham City, how cool is that??" He's turned aside slightly, grinning as he speaks to…well, no one, so far as Batgirl and Huntress can tell."Whaaaat? Naw! Don't be ridiculous- I mean why would they start anything? Right? You girls aren't gonna- Um."

He turns then, glancing between the two females. Yeah, both of them still haven't put away their weapons. "H-hey now…"

* * *

Huntress really doesn't have time to put up with Matchstick or Miss Hoity Toity. When she sees that bola being put away she returns her crossbow to its holster on her hip. That doesn't mean she can't draw it again as fas as Doc Holliday if she needs to. But, even with the weapon put away she doesn't lose her wary 'about to start a fight' stance.

She wants to snap at the flame-haired man to stop his non-sensical rambling, but she suspects that Hoity Toity over there would take exception to it and likely frown even more. Whatever.

"Whoop-dee fucking do. I'm leaving now." But she by no means turns her back on either of them.

* * *

"Gotham," Batgirl repeats patiently. Then she frowns slightly as the man continues to talk to someone who isn't there. She steps forward, advancing in yellow motocross boots that blend well with the purple leather pants and zipped-up jacket she's wearing; the latter bears a yellow bat emblem that is very signature for those who know Gotham's vigilante family.

When Huntress starts to make her leave, the redhead steps into her path with a clear intention. "I have question for you." Because really it was Huntress that brought Batgirl to the Narrows to begin with: bloody, brutal justice is something that goes against the Bat Code(TM).

Then she glances back to Firestorm. "Are you alright? You're talking to yourself in an odd sort of way." Which in her book means Arkham, but something in her intuition tells her that he did not come flying out of Arkham without a sound coming from inside the asylum.

* * *

Crisis averted? Firestorm seems to know better than that at least, but the weapons being put away is a good step in the right direction.

"We cool now? No? I mean I can just..?"

"Are you all right? You're talking to yourself in an odd sort of way."

"I'm perfectly fine! I was just talking to the professor in my head. …okay so that sounds a lot worse than I thought it should but I'm not crazy I swear!!"

Smooth, real smooth! Worst first impression ever! Batgirl thinks he's nuts- "Ohmigosh I'm talking to Batgirl..!" he gasps as realization sinks in. It's been a lot to process, okay.

* * *

Matchstick is quickly earning the nickname 'Looney Tunes' for himself. And, really, Huntress couldn't care less. She's by no means an exemplar of pristine mental health herself.

But then HoityToityBat says she's gots questions. Well, good for her. Her eyes narrow, and the moment Batgirl glances at Firestorm, she turns and bolts out of the alleyway and toward her bike.

Time to leave.

* * *

"… you, what? I don't under — " Batgirl is totally distracted by that, so distracted that she misses that split second opportunity to actually get the upper-hand on the fleeing Helena. "Hey! Stop!" She pivots on her boot sole, scraping lightly against dirty pavement. She has dropped the bolas back into her hand, but the spinning weight cannot get up enough speed. She hurls it all the same, letting it fly out of her grasp toward Huntress.

It takes out the trashcan just off to her left, slamming hard with a rattle of metal. Batgirl takes off several steps, but Huntress has too far of a lead.

* * *

There's a roar of a bike engine at the end of the alley, and a motorcycle cuts across Huntress' path in a swooping J-turn. Overbright blue LED lights momentarily cast the alley into sharp daylight before being turned to a low idle running light.

It's a Honda CRB, a race bike that single-handedly dominated the professional racing circuit for most of two decades. Whatever has been done to the jet-black bike is beyond even 'custom', with refinements and aftermarket mods that speak of a serious amount of talent with a wrench and unique specifications.

The rider drops one of her knee-high leather boots to the ground, the biker heel dropping the kickstand and letting her plant a foot on the turf for balance. She's wearing fishnet-pattern abrasion leggings and a heavy motocross jacket, and pulls her helmet off to reveal a shock of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a button nose.

She gives Huntress a flickering once over, then looks to Barbara behind her and the awestruck Firestorm staring at the redhead. One hand is on the Honda's throttle— the other, out of sight behind her far hip. "What's up, Batgirl? You flag me down for a birthday present? Ducatis are okay, I guess, but purple isn't my color." She pops the bubblegum in her mouth, giving Huntress a flatly appraising once-over.

* * *


Firestorm stands there awkwardly as he watches Huntress take the opportunity to bolt, wincing as Batgirl makes an attempt to halt her and fails.

"Ooh… Er. My bad?" That was kinda his fault, yeah.

Except that the sound of a motorcycle that comes up isn't of the one he now makes out at the opening of the alleyway where Huntress has taken off. Firestorm stares as yet another woman on a bike arrives. What a welcome party?

"Haaay…" he greets, raising a yellow-gloved hand.

* * *

Huntress flinches at the bang of something hitting a trashcan right next to her, and is THIS close to getting out of the alley and to her bike when some lunatic on a fucking rice-burner roars right up in her way.

Having to course-correct that abruptly is by NO means graceful, and in throwing herself clear of the Honda and its rider puts her crouched on sidewalk and on the wrong side of the alley entrance from her Ducati.

She pulls her crossbow and fires a bolt off at Dinah, aiming to flatten the CRB's rear tire before scrambling to try and get past and to her own motorcycle. The bolt hits the Honda's rear tire with a solid-sounding thwack, but not in such a way as to make it instantly deflate.

* * *

Then Dinah shows up. Batgirl is turning toward the sound, putting her back to Firestorm in a rather protective posture. She drops her hand to her belt, thumbing out a razor-edged batarang. Her shoulders tighten slightly, cape moving smoothly behind her in the shifted motion. Cue hero pose.

When the bolt is released, Batgirl takes several sharp steps forward, but she knows even in that moment she's too far away to hit. There's only so much range on these things and Huntress is clearly out of it. "Canary!" She shouts in alarm as the crossbow fires, but the sound of the air releasing from the tires is a point of interest: Huntress didn't try to wound Dinah. That's tucked away in her mind, and it reminds her of something, someone even.

She turns toward Firestorm slightly, torn between telling the man to stay there or asking him to help. She has no idea who he is, what his affiliations are, so she grits her teeth and goes with a hard, firm, "Some shooting star you are."

* * *

Dinah flinches from the bolt, and almost drops her bike. That elicits a lot of cussing from the blonde, her helmet scraping and bouncing across the street as she's forced to throw her weight back into balancing the vehicle back out. It's a lightweight racer, but it still weighs three hunred pounds or more.

"Mother fuc— my RIDE!" Dinah says, gnashing her teeth. She swings a foot back and kicks the quarrel clear. Runflat goo surges from the breach and seals it in moments, though the bike has sturdy solid tires instead of conventional air bladders. She revs the engine and pins the front brake, sweeping the bike out in a dramatic fishook arc. For a moment, Dinah balances on the front tire, and the back end drops heavily as a guillotine in front of Huntress. Dinah vaults off the bike with extraordinary balance, moving to intercept Helena before she can reload and loose another bolt.

"What the shit?!" she rages, voice high-pitched with rage. "Why're you shooting at my fucking bike?!"

* * *

"Ooh, good one Ronnie- Batgirl's mad now," Firestorm flinches, muttering under his breath.

"Okay! I got no idea what's going on but shooting stuff at people? Not coolsie." Frowning, he floats on up, just above Batgirl. His hands glow brightly as he holds them outwards. The sidewalk glows around Huntress, extruding into bars in an attempt to surround her in a cage.

His face falters a moment as though just being informed something. "Okay, point, that wouldn't much keep her from shooting people, riiiiight…"

* * *

Huntress tries to get to her bike, but a REALLY pissed off HondaBitch slamming her rice burner in her way and then those … bars? "What the fuck?" She can't turn back, and she can't get past Dinah, so she falls back on the only defense mechanism she has left: her mouth.

"Would you rather I shoot at your fat ass? Get the hell out of my way, cagna." While blustering with her crossbow aimed at Dinah, her eyes keep flicking toward the bars, trying to determine if she can throw herself through them to get away.

* * *

That's right, Ronnie. That's not how we make friends.

When Firestorm does speak up, the Batgirl turns slightly toward him only to tilt her gaze up to watch him hover abruptly, just in time to catch the glow on his hands. She gasps loudly, and turns back sharply as if expecting a fireball. Instead, she spots the glow of sidewalk around Huntress.

"Canary! Watch out!"

She starts forward, daring toward both Dinah and Helena, the former more of her concern than the latter. Then she spots the cage, and her steps slow as she closes in at Dinah's bike, and her hands go up in a sharp call for stop. "Everybody, hold it." She turns slightly between Helena and Dinah and Ronnie, and then her gaze settles on the Huntress. "I know what you've been doing," she says to the woman. "You can run, I'll even tell the Fallen Star to let you go, but that means I'm just going to come back around tomorrow night to hunt for you." She gestures. "You're trying to help people out there, but you doing it through violence… deadly violence. You keep it up, I will be the least of your troubles, because that's how you get the Big Bat to come out of his cave, and after you."

* * *

The sensible thing to do, of course, would be to stand back and let Firestorm's cunning cage create a firewall around Helena. Disengage. Batgirl's got it handled. Some diplomacy, a light touch, bing bang boom, Helena could be talked down.

But the insult makes Dinah bristle, fingers clenching into fists. "Fanculo, che grasso cagna! Becarre qualcuno una pigrone pisello!" Dinah's Italian is halfway decent— well, at least she's got a command of some common curses, and she's bawling a tirade at Huntress with zero regard for the fact that there's a loaded crossbow in the woman's hands. Seems Helena hit a trigger.

* * *

"Actually, it's Firestorm?" Firestorm helpfully adds, if somewhat lamely. The time for a dramatic introduction has been completely shot from the moment he landed in a dumpster, unfortunately.

Italian was so not his elective language in school so the insult and the retort to follow go completely over his head. Somewhat. There's no denying the tone, and even Martin Stein has to wince.

"…sooo I guess shaking hands and making up isn't happening…" He glances down at Batgirl. "You still want me to let her out? Granted I can do it. -not saying I can't, totally can, I'm just saying…"

* * *

Do you REALLY want to get into an Italian cussing match with Helena? She learned all the HARSHEST curses from her cousins, and when Dinah lets loose, so does she. And she doesn't spare the horses. Her crossbow doesn't waver, but her attention has almost entirely focused on the blonde that she's now cussing out quite luridly… if you speak Italian.

But even as she's cussing up said bluestreak, she shifts her weight slightly, as if preparing to try and make another break for her motorcycle.

* * *

The flood of Italian cussing from the two women has Batgirl looking surprised, if not a little stumped by the exact words flying at each other. Finally she shakes her head, stepping forward to grab Dinah's elbow. She squeezes, and then looks back to Firestorm. "Let her go, and then we can talk more."

There's wary in her words, as if she knows she's risking Huntress running. Little does Barbara know, or spot, that she's already preparing to run. Her attention is to split between Dinah and Firestorm to notice those small details.

* * *

Dinah's tirade— shouted more at Huntress than anything resembling an exchange— is cut off momentarily when Barbara grabs her elbow. The petite blonde almost shrugs her off (Dinah's a lot stronger than she looks), but Barbara knows how to pull her off balance and more importantly, get Dinah's attention when she's doing something that she'll probably regret later.

"WHAT?!" Dinah seethes through her teeth, turning a hostile glare at Babs from behind her black domino mask.

* * *

Firestorm looks pointedly at Huntress, gesturing with two fingers from his eyes to her and back again. No funny business with that crossbow, capiche?

With a nod at Batgirl, he extends his hand, that same glow enveloping both it and the concrete cage before it sinks back into the sidewalk it was formed from. He's still watching the previously caged woman while Batgirl's handling Canary; it's clear enough to him who's the one to be most wary of currently. Then again that much has been obvious from their first meeting. Lady's got issues!

* * *

Huntress watches both Dinah and Batgirl warily, as the latter tries to get the former to calm down. The gesture from Firestorm has her eyes flicker toward him briefly, but she misunderstands it, and the instant the bars drop out of her way she bolts again. This time, she manages to get to her bike, start it, and race away. And she doesn't even try to look back. She just mentally cusses in both languages she knows while putting as much distance between herself and the others as faset as she can.

* * *

"… no, wait!" Batgirl takes two steps forward, despite the absolute hatred from Dinah on her request. Then she is left with the Black Canary and the Firestorm, the Huntress fleeing on her bike. With a downward cast of her eyes, and set of her jaw, she just seethes quietly at that. "I would have let you go, bitch," she says under her breath. There's a beat pause, and then she admits to herself, "After we had a chat."

Then she turns slightly toward Dinah, apology in her eyes. When she looks at Firestorm again, her blue eyes trail over him from head to toe. Her lips set into a crooked, half-hearted smile. "Welcome to Gotham." Beat pause. "You need a lift to the train station?"

* * *

"Aw dangit!" Firestorm huffs as he watches Huntress zip away. You certainly showed her, the professor says dryly in his head, a scowl crossing the Nuclear Man's face at the comment. "I would have! She just…was a lot faster than I thought she'd be."

Turning he looks back towards Batgirl and Black Canary as he sets back down on the ground. He smiles just a touch crookedly at the welcome, scratching the back of his head.

"That…could've gone a whole lot better, but um, thanks? And actually, if you can point me to a map or something I can maybe figure out my way from there."

Or maybe he'll end up in Metropolis.

* * *

Batgirl looks at Dinah, and the two share a knowing look. Then she smiles a bit more easily to Firestorm, and she reaches into her belt to pull out her smartphone. Thanks to the vOS — vigilante operating system — it is set to Batgirl's phone, and so shows the yellow bat symbol. She unlocks it, opens her GPS app, and starts to show Firestorm where he is, where NYC is, and the best trajectory to get back home.

Only when she's done getting him on course does she look up at him, head tilting slightly. "Nice to meet you, Firestorm… next time you crash-in, I'll try to make the welcome a bit warmer." She holds out a gloved hand to him.

* * *

"Oh sweet. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Go~~t it." He thinks.

It looks easy enough. The professor seems to have gotten it at least, and that's enough for the both of them. They'll find out sooner or later for sure.

"Hey, nice meeting you too, Batgirl. I can call you that, right? And hey, not your fault, it was just…okay, so it was all kinds of weird but we're cool. Yeah? Um, next time, not in the dumpster and no crazy chicks with crossbows."

He looks at the hand she offers, blinking before smiling broadly as he takes her's in his to shake. I'm shaking Batgirl's hand..!

* * *

"You can call me that." The affirmation is met with a warm, almost shy note. This is definitely something she's not accustomed to, or perhaps just quietly shies from when it comes up. Then she gives his hand one more firm shake before she steps back, giving the flying firebug some space.

"I will try to accommodate that, Firestorm… but this is Gotham."

* * *

A week ago Ronnie Raymond hadn't ever thought that he'd be meeting Batgirl or even be in Gotham City of all places. It hasn't quite sunk in that he might even start to consider himself along the lines of some kind of super do-gooder, with emphasis on the 'super'.

"Heh, point taken," Firestorm chuckles, finger-gunning at that. "Right. So, guess I'll get out of your hair and let you get back to…bat-stuff."

Hopping back, he hovers and then thrusts his fists skyward as he shoots off.

"To infinity…and beyond! -okay no, that's not as cool a catch phrase as I thought it'd be—"

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