A Trifled Meeting
Roleplaying Log: A Trifled Meeting
IC Details

A trio of vigilantes cross paths in Metropolis.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: September 01, 2019
IC Location: Metropolis
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 02 Sep 2019 03:07
Rating & Warnings:
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

She probably got an earful before leaving, and will likely get another one when she gets back. But Helena could NOT ignore this potential lead. So, she packed an overnight bag and her school backpack with her costume and gear, and got on the road.

Several hours and an increasing number of muscle aches later, she makes it into Metropolis at the tail end of rush hour and pulls over into the parking lot of a hipster-trendy retro diner at the edge of the city center. It's honestly a bit of effort to not curl her lip in annoyance at the overly tattooed, gauged ears, twig of a waitress wearing the 50s-esque waitress outfit 'ironically', and just follows her to a booth and tucks her duffel and backpack between herself and the wall.

"Coffee, please," she requests, and hopes like hell that punky emo Flo gets the hell out of her face post haste.

* * *

Just a ways down the street, there seems to be some kind of construction going on. There'd been some damage to an intersection and some nearby buildings the week prior, and it certainly hadn't helped for the regular traffic.

"I got it!" The voice might be vaguely familiar and annoyingly eager, filtering in from outside the next time the door to the diner is opened to admit another potential patron. Diving past the windows arcs the red and yellow clad figure of Firestorm, flaming head and all. He pauses to hover just at the end of the diner's view, hands glowing in some form of power manipulation although the resulting can't be seen from this angle, but he must be doing something as he stays there for a moment before turning slightly and repeating the process.

* * *

Hearing a familiar voice in a very unfamiliar town is disconcerting to say the least. She turns to look out the diner windows and … holy shit it's Matchstick. She looks at her duffel and backpack, then at the waitress who just dropped off her likely overpriced coffee, and makes a decision. "Thanks. I'll be back in a bit." Pulling her bags along, she heads into the diner's restroom.

Time to see how fast she can change into her costume. At least she's already wearing her motorcycle boots.

* * *

Let's face it; Firestorm hadn't figured in that super-heroing would ever encompass having to repair the messes you made- and in some cases such as this one, ones you had absolutely no hand in! Then again his brand of powers kind of seems fit for doing so, and it's not like he really minds all that much. Helping people out is helping people out, right?

He just needs to have a decent understanding of how things are structured, both physically and molecularly. Case in point, the glowing faces of two adjoining brick walls that had moments ago had a gaping hole with a pile of tell-tale rubble beside it. In a few seconds it's restored, the rubble gone, the bricks looking as good as new.

"Phew!" The young flame-headed hero mock-wipes his forehead with the back of a hand. "Okay, what's next? Potholes? Oh, those are…not potholes. I got this- hey, no worries Prof," he says, seeming to address the air, "At least it hasn't reached the sewerlines. I can handle asphalt."

He wiggles his fingers, hands flaring in spiraling light, echoing upon the gouged road before him.

* * *

Thankfully, Grayson didn't have to get changed. He was already in his his costume for the day!

….as Detective Richard Grayson. Thank god he's wearing his Nightwing armor underneath his clothes for a quick change.

As he's walking in the street, Firestorm flies past him and his hat flies off of his head. "Well, I think it looked bad on me anyway." Grayson keeps moving, though he watches Firestorm apparently do his thing. Woah. Molecular change? Fancy. Man, its moments like these where he wishes he had superpowers. But then…

He wouldn't be Dick Grayson. So he just watches for the moment, see if Firestorm needs a hand.

* * *

Changed in a matter of minutes — she will give the trendy-annoying people this: they're meticulous about cleanliness in their bathrooms — and after a moment of dithering pops a tile out of the drop ceiling over the bathroom stall closest to the door and stashes her duffel up there. Her backpack, containing her IDs, money, and extra crossbow bolts she keeps secured to her back. She's not THAT trusting. She just hopes that that little factoid she read about most people avoiding the first stall in a public bathroom is actually true.

Ceiling tile settled back into place, Huntress peeks out of the restroom then ducks out of a back door in the hallway, clearly having been propped open by the kitchen employee puffing something that stinks of grape jolly ranchers. Gross. She hastily scales the rooftop access ladder — no, the grating over the public side of the ladder really doesn't matter when she's determined and practiced climbing the SIDES of fire escape ladders — and then she's on the diner roof in the shadow of the many very much taller buildings around the squat diner.

Crossing to the front edge of the roof is quick and quiet, thanks to the fading heat of the late August day and the HVAC units on the roof (huh, new. Respectable.) are whirring and humming as they do their jobs. She looks across at Firestorm who's about eye-level with her, and frowns faintly. He sounds like he's talking to someone. So long as he doesn't lose an argument with himself, meh.

* * *

Dealing with the holes in the street aren't as easy as fixing the wall, if only because there's a lack of whatever had previously filled them to be reincorporated. At best Firestorm manages to smooth them out a little, the edge of the street closest to it shifting just slightly as he borrows a bit here and there to make it as even as he can. At least it's a little less work than wrapping his head around how bricks and mortar are supposed to fit together.

"Yeah, uh-huh. Good call," he says again, in a fashion that would be like talking to someone on a bluetooth headset or some kind of comlink, save that it doesn't seem like he has one. Then again it's hard to tell with the fiery glow and all. He smiles brightly and waves at passing pedestrians, Grayson included.

The movement that joins him just along the roof adjacent to him doesn't immediately draw his attention towards Huntress, although it seems something points him out to look as he finally does so. Bright eyes blink then widen in recognition before his expression eases into a smile. "Hey! I remember you!"

* * *

Giving a small little wave to Firestorm in return, Grayson seems to smirk, but then he turns around to walk into an alleyway. Take one out of Superman's book too, because he rips open his shirt to reveal the Nightwing emblem on his chest.

Few minutes later, Nightwing emerges from the shadows, walking over to Firestorm and Huntress by bouncing off of some rooftops. and landing close by.

"Can I third wheel? Or is this date strictly for two?"

* * *

Huntress cringes at Firestorm when he greets her so loudly and cheerily. "Damnit, Matchstick, you have no subtlety." She gives up on crouching near the roof's retaining wall and stands up straight. "But, since you're being all helpful and shit," she gestures vaguely toward the street, "maybe y—"

The startle from Nightwing's abrupt arrival has her hopping slightly away from the edge of the roof and pulling her crossbow to aim at the dark-clad man with a swiftness that Old West gunslingers might envy. "What the fuck is WITH people in this town?"

She's got a distinctly Gotham hint to her words, muddled with old world Sicilian though the latter might be a bit more difficult to pick out.

* * *

At least Firestorm has the grace to look a little sheepish at that. He shrugs helplessly. "Eheh…yeah, I'm not exactly the most subtle person around," he has to admit. It's very hard to be when you've got a flaming head. Makes it very hard to take a joy flight through Gotham.

That Huntress has more to say to him does make him curious as he drifts closer to the rooftop, which is just when Nightwing makes his own appearance. He blinks and looks between the two after an almost clueless wave in greeting at the newcomer. "Oh um. We weren't actually-"

Somehow he manages not to be completely surprised by Huntress's reaction, but she'd made a pretty memorable first impression on him. "Iiii take it you two know each other?"

* * *

Considering that Nightwing was able to sneak up on both of them, the Protector of Bludhaven seems to still have it despite being what one might call 'busy' as of late doing other things. But he was trained by the best. So Nightwing seems to give a little wave. "Sorry. Didn't think you'd jump that high." He teases Huntress just a little bit, before he looks over at Firestorm.

"Newly acquainted. I'm from out of town myself. Though…Seems I'm not the only one." He looks at Huntress. "Gotham, right? Know the accent. Though…Hm. Little bit of Italian in there. Or am I mistaken?"

* * *

Huntress shifts her weight the tiniest bit, giving away to the sharp-eyed that she's decidedly nervous. Yes, she's from Gotham, yes, she recognizes the similarities of the symbol on Nightwing's outfit to those of the Bats (she's seen the one on Babs' suit lots of times, after all), but no, she's not going to outright admit to any of that aloud.

"Why do you care?" she asks Nightwing, perhaps a bit defensively. If she really wanted to, she could very likely go full Jersey Shore obnoxious sounding, but she doesn't want to confused Matchstick. "Hey, Matchstick, can we chat later?" She doesn't want to offer even a morsel of information around new Mr. Nosey-Tights over there.

* * *

"Oh. Okay then." Firestorm looks from Nightwing to Huntress and back, folding his arms as he hovers casually. "I'm from Manhattan myself, but you know," he says with a vague shrug. That Act doesn't exactly make it so simple to hero it up around there as one pleases. Although it seems like the same's starting to go for Gotham, if for a more generalized reason. Metropolis therefore has been his go-to. Plus…

"I'm Firestorm, by the way, with the Justice League." Plug, plug. It's both for Huntress and Nightwing, if not mostly for the latter because he doesn't want him mistaking 'Matchstick' as his given codename. Huff.

For the record, he's already kind of confused because he never knows what side Huntress is on. At least she's not mad at him? "Um, 'kay. Yeah, sure thing…"

* * *

Nightwing looks at Huntress. "I don't. But I am just curious." Nightwing just smirks at Helena for a moment. She got flustered easily. Bad temperment? She's defensive, which means a secret identity means something to her. Interesting.

Nightwing looks over at Firestorm as he introduces himself proper. "Nice to meet you, Firestorm. Wasn't sure about the matchstick, so I wanted to give you some time." he teases him. "Anyway, I'm Nightwing. I'm usually in Gotham, but here to help out a friend." Which means he already did, or he's just yet to do so. He shrugs lightly. "Anyway, saw your trick with the wall. Nice. Molecular fusion on steroids?"

* * *

And that fast, Nightwing has Huntress almost completely and accurately pegged. Of course, she recognizes the name Nightwing even more so than the symbol on his outfit. Definitely one of the Bats. SHIT. Now she's /really/ gonna get an earful when she gets home.

with a bit of a grump, she holsters her crossbow as it's clear that this man isn't an outright threat. And even if he was, she knows by reputation that all she'll be is a black and purple punching bag for him. Pass.

"Well, since there's no fire or anything, I'm gonna get going. I still have work to do."

Unlike SOME people, is the very clear unspoken implication. It's true, though. She has to be back home in time to make sure her lesson plans for the rest of the school week are finalized and ready to go, and any grading that's left to be done gets done. Ugh.

* * *

He's not pouting. Not really. Okay, so maybe just for a quick second at the teasing. "Nightwing, huh? Cool. I uh, pass through Gotham now and then." Maybe a little less of late. Firestorm brightens at the acute observation of his earlier handiwork.

"Yeah, that's…something like that. More nuclear than steroids but hey."

Inwardly he's glad that Huntress decides to put away her weapon. It'd be kind of awkward and then he'd hate to wrap a building around her or something because then he'd have to put it all back afterward and… Yeah, it'd just be headaches all around. Her abrupt decision to go has him turn her way again.

"What, already? Uh. So…I'll call you or you call me?" he asks as he make with the telephone hand, thumb and pinky extended pretty much like a 'hang loose.'

* * *

Nightwing had a read on Huntress, but it was that fast when she seems to try and retreat. Well, thats not too good. But he seems to smirk. "Be seein' ya." Perhaps a mild warning to her that he intends to see her again, though unlike Firestorm, he's not lovestruck.

Speaking of, Nightwing looks over at him and he pats the fused superhero on the shoulder. "Good luck, friend." He says as he watches Huntress leave. Then he looks to Firestorm. "Good to know. Anyway, good job." Nightwing gives a thumbs up as he also makes his way out. What a fun conversation!

* * *

"Yeah, sure," she tells Firestorm while turning to head back to the roof access ladder. She takes about two steps then stops. With her back to the two men, she closes her eyes and berates herself for a second before turning back. "I don't have your number," she finally admits as she turns back to the two men. "If you know how to get a hold of Oracle, give her your number. I'll get it that way."

Nightwing gets a narrow-eyed glare, and then she turns stalks away finally. Pausing to check that the back of the diner is clear of observers and — thank fuck — the kitchen employee left the door open a crack. It's only a matter of moments before she's back in the diner's restroom and changing clothes again quicklky. But this time she leaves as much of her costume on under her clothes as she can stand. It was just too sweltering to do so on the motorcycle ride over.

* * *

Lovestruck? What? If Firestorm knew what sort of picture Nightwing's piecing together between him and Huntress he'd probably blush. …okay so she is hot, probably older than him but anyway

"I don't— …know an Oracle," he finishes lamely as the woman's already vanished, shoulders slumping. He sighs, the image probably not really begging the contrary for Nightwing's ongoing theory. "Yeah, thanks," he says to the remaining vigilante. to both the good luck and the good job. At least there's that.

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