agoodyarn | A Bat and a Pyro Walk Out of a Heist

A Bat and a Pyro Walk Out of a Heist

To say that she'd never really seen a criminal behave as if they didn't want to be there would be inaccurate; there were any number of thieves and even murderers who had cold feet, who thought they'd get caught, and even some who had clearly been pulled along when they didn't want to be doing anything of the like. But it was the first time she'd ever seen a single thief going about his business as if he was doing a particularly boring office job, as if the spark had gone out and he could barely stand to be doing what he was doing. It was when he glanced in one of the glass cases, clearly decided he couldn't be bothered mostly because there were a lot of things IN the case, and moved on that she made her own decision.

Within a few moments, she was on the ground, in front of him, tilting her head thoughtfully. It wasn't often she spoke in uniform, but it seemed like the time.

"You don't even want to do this. And you don't need to. Why not stop now?"

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The movement in the stark pool of security lighting had Mick's hand twitching toward the heatgun in place on his thigh, but he didn't pull it. He'd expected the Flash, but then again, he hadn't set off any alarms. He'd cased the place, figured out all its weaknesses, like Snart always had. But Snart wasn't here. He never would be again. It was easier for Mick to move deliberately now thanks to Chronos, easier to do both halves of the job, and as he'd learned the hard way, it was easier to do this dance on his own than with another partner who didn't know the steps.

But she was right. Mick did not want to be here doing this, not alone. And in the silence of the museum, the question—no hostility in it, even from a hero to a crook, no wheedling persuasion, just honest curiosity—prompted an honest answer. "Habit," he said with a little shrug, folding his arms, taking his hand away from the heatgun entirely. "Figured I'd see the Flash if anyone stopped by to say hi."

"He's busy."

Which was why she was here at all. A few different folks had been tapped to help take some of the weight off of Barry's shoulders, given what was going on in his personal life. Batman had picked the team with an eye for the Rogues of Central City and the kind of personalities that might be encountered and everyone, even Cass, had been surprised at her inclusion on the list. But here she was and here they were and she was starting to see why, perhaps, she'd been asked to do this.

"I'm Batgirl."

She glanced at a few of the cases.

"You could put them back. I'd rather you did that."

"What, he's got help now?" Mick shook his head in slow surprise. "You wander off to save the timeline for a couple months, everything changes." From the perspective of the residents of Central City, five months. Mick's personal timeline? Even he wasn't sure. A couple centuries, maybe.

To his credit, he thought about it, turning to look at the few pieces he'd actually collected. Nothing too fancy, probably expensive and worth a lot to the right buyer, the usual, but he'd probably just let them sit for a while before finally going to the trouble of finding a fence. Still, putting them back when he'd gotten this far, that just seemed like a waste of effort.

"Batgirl, huh?" he said instead, turning back. "Didn't think you folks branched out this far. Friendly of you. Whaddaya say I wander off with what I got so far, we call it even."

She shook her head.

"Put it back and I let you go." Forget the fact that he'd still broken and entered. "You can just put it down."

...because even she can understand it'd be annoying to put everything back in the right cases. She certainly didn't know which ones went where. And all the cards had text that was SO SMALL.

There was a growl, but it was a pretty neutral one as Mick-growls went. In the past, he'd be spoiling for a fight and it would be Len keeping him in check, but now here he was, pretty much just taking things at random like he was browsing a store, and was this worth a fight? The fun had gone out of it even before she'd shown up. He'd just planned on finishing the job because Len never liked a job to go unfinished.

"What's he up to, anyway, he ain't got time for his old buddy Heatwave?" he asked as he set a jewel-encrusted dagger on top of a different case. Maybe that was one reason he'd started hitting places, the Flash oughta know what had happened. But if he wasn't gonna show up, what was the point?

"I don't know," and she wasn't lying. She didn't. She'd never been close to that particular group and she wasn't the type to pry. She'd been told to go to Central City and patrol and so she'd gone.

"I know it's serious. But I don't know anything else."

Then she steps forward, tipping her chin towards the case. Then, quietly-

"Thank you."

A grunt and a shrug as he turned toward the front entrance—he'd made it in through the front entrance, that's how easy it was—and waved off the thanks. "Too easy anyway," he said, "Snart wouldn't've even bothered." Not true, Snart would have taken everything in the place, even the un-sellable stuff, just to teach them a lesson, but he wasn't here and Mick wasn't him.

He'd worked solo for a long time, and even then, working with his partner had come back so fast. Almost scary, how fast. He still walked like someone expecting their left side was covered, especially through a dark, silent museum.

Someone filled that slot, falling in step with him easily enough. She didn't speak, but she decided to 'escort' him out. Or that was the purpose. She was walking with him because, well, she could see the hurt. The pain. That he was missing someone like a limb.

Casing the spots. Getting through security. Picking stuff up, getting out, the fences. None of it felt right. It was like he was re-learning to do things, and some of 'em just didn't fit anymore. She was smaller than the figure he was used to sensing at the edge, she didn't move the same, but it helped a little to have the space filled, whether or not she knew it.

Once they were outside—and Mick let the door bang shut behind him, and still no alarms went off, not even anything basic—he looked sidelong at her. "Kid needs help, huh?"

"We're human beings," she said quietly, because regardless of whether it was a META human, he was a human. And he had family, people he cared about, a heart and a mind and places where he could be hurt.

"He lost someone. And there's no calling in sick for our job."

"Yeah, 'cause jerks like me keep draggin' you out." It was a joke, at least it was said like a joke, but it hit a little hard, learning the Flash wasn't here because he'd lost someone too. Maybe it was a good thing the Flash hadn't shown up. That wasn't news Mick would've wanted to give him, on top of whatever else had happened.

If he knew who the kid was behind the mask...but Snart had never told him. Kept his promise. He was pretty sure Lisa knew, but he and Lisa weren't doing the face-to-face thing right now, she'd bugged outta town for a while.

"You have a reason," she said as they moved, "just like I do. I spoke to you because your reason didn't match your actions."

He'd been leading the way across the street, but that made him come to a slow halt in the street before they'd reached the sidewalk. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"The missing piece," and she turned to face him, looking up. "It isn't behind any glass."

She considered, considered a young boy in an alley, considered Batman holding her close. There was a great deal about this job, about wearing the Bat, that was about putting oneself out. Not just in danger, but putting your heart out. Trying to make the world better, even in the dark.

"I know what it's like."

"You know what what's like?" And yeah, maybe Mick sounded a little skeptical. A little more hostile. Maybe it came out in a growl. But his situation was a little unusual, and it wasn't exactly something he needed platitudes about.

But he didn't move. He stayed put, arms folded, planted in place, waiting.

"To try and walk with one leg. One eye. One arm."

That isn't exactly what she means but it's what she says as she tries to convey what she means. It's the closest she can make the words come.

Oh.

Huh.

Well, he'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about it like that. It was still weird to think how easy it had been to...to box it all up, everything he'd become after Snart had left him behind and not come back for him. They'd just fitted right back together, in the aftermath of the fistfight Mick had won without much trouble at all, for the first time.

"Yeah," he said quietly, looking across the street at the dark building they'd come from. He knew now—after it was too damn late to do anything about it—that Snart had figured out why he'd never come back for Mick, it was because he was gonna die, so he'd just waltzed off and done it. That was what clung to him.

She watches him for a moment before looking for a good spot and pulling out her grappling gear. They're outside now, which means it's time for her to get back to her patrol. There's a City to watch over.

"It takes time. And it's never better. But you learn to balance again."

She looks up.

"I have to go."

There's a smile under the mask.

"But take care."

And a moment later, she was zooming up on a grapple line to continue her patrol.

He almost gets out a Hey— but she's gone before he can do more than take a breath. Batgirl, huh? Pretty damn unexpected source for inspirational advice. Doesn't solve his problem of how to find the Flash and let him know the news, but maybe if he's got enough going on, it won't matter if Mick doesn't track him down right away.

At a loss for the evening, Mick's feet take him back to Saints & Sinners. He's there often enough on his own that it won't cause much of a stir, and the regulars know how to leave a man alone. They'll figure out soon enough that Len isn't coming back.

If anyone's looking for Mick Rory, they'll find him there, just sitting and staring at a flaming shot as it slowly, slowly burns down.

Just before it would go out, a hand slips in and snatches it up, the owner downing the shot before putting the glass rim down on the table as she takes a seat beside him. She's small, but there's strength in her movements, scars on the bare shoulders she shows in her punk aesthetic get up, and something of a familiar sort of smirk on her lips.

She didn't speak at first before-

"You should buy another one."

He's torn, in the seconds before she speaks, between being impressed that she'd downed the shot while it was still flaming—he'd thought he was the only one who did stuff like that—and being irritated that his brooding is being interrupted by someone he doesn't know.

Then she talks, and he stares for a little longer than might be comfortable. Before turning to the bartender and tapping twice. How about two more?

He doesn't answer until the two shots have been poured out. "End of your shift?"

She just nods to that as she leans up against the small bar table and watches the shot being ignited as it's supposed to be. She considers it before looking over at him again.

"Cass," is what she offers with a nod.

There's a little hnn as Mick thinks about that. Ain't an ordinary thing for a hero-type to wander up and take a seat and offer a real name.

"Mick," he says finally, before picking up his shot and hefting it in a little silent toast and tossing it back. It's nothing the bartender's never seen before, he's not paying attention, no one's paying attention. This is the kind of place to talk and not get overheard. "Stickin' around?"

It helps that she doesn't actually have a secret identity, per se. She doesn't exist other than as Batgirl. And for some reason, for the same reason that she was here, she trusts that he won't do anything with the information other than realize that the woman sitting beside him is the one who didn't kick his ass and arrest him earlier. The one who knows what it's like to have one arm and one leg.

She takes her own shot and tosses it back.

"I came for you."

Mick read people. It was something even the people closest to him kept forgetting about, but he'd kept reading people just a little too well...right up to the second Len knocked him out. He hadn't seen that coming. Should've.

She reads people too, like he does, seems like. "Here I am. Now what?"

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