A Bat and a Pyro Walk Out of a Heist

[slam_poetry]

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?"

Comments

[slam_poetry]

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.

[firebrawl]

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.

[slam_poetry]

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."

[firebrawl]

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?"

[slam_poetry]

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.

[firebrawl]

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?"

[slam_poetry]

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."

[firebrawl]

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?"

[slam_poetry]

She looks up at him for a moment, seems to consider what she could say, and glances at the drink. Then she picks it up, chucks it back, and turns her attention back to him properly.

"I came for you."

Hopefully, he'd get it this time. He was the one who would decide where they went from there but she'd be there regardless.

[firebrawl]

"...so you are stickin' around." Good thing he hadn't had anything else planned for the night. He has a feeling she'd be tricky to shake if he ever needed to try.

Another round of drinks is a good place to start, but this one might get watched again for a while.

"Got some news for the kid. Might hit him hard. Don't think he's gonna like it."

[slam_poetry]

"I can guess," she answered as she considered a basket of peanuts. One of them is shelled and popped into her mouth almost in a blur.

"I will pass the information on. Someone who knows him better will make that decision."

[firebrawl]

He nods, it's as good an answer as he expects. Better than he expects, if the Flash has heroes from a whole other city backing him up right now.

"Never knew what Snart saw in him," he says after a few seconds have been taken up by lighting the shot. This one might burn down too. "Must've been somethin'. ...never the way I figured he'd go out, neither. One damn step ahead'a me."

[slam_poetry]

"I was always the one a step ahead. And then I looked behind and she was gone."

That's all she can say about Stephanie. All she'll say about Stephanie.

[firebrawl]

Oho. That says a lot. Explains why she watches so carefully now, why she thinks things out before she says 'em. They might've told her about Captain Cold and Heatwave, but they've been missing for months. Might not have been part of the briefing. And she'd still spotted the absence of a partner in someone she hadn't seen before.

He leans over, just barely brushing her shoulder, barely putting an instant of pressure on it before he settles back again. And then fishes out a wide hammered-silver ring on the end of a chain around his neck, beneath the layers. "Ended up a hero in the end. Still found time to plant this on me before he knocked me out, rat bastard."

[slam_poetry]

Her eyes slip closed at the contact, trying to gain as much from it as she can, and she can gain more than most can. When he starts speaking, she looks at the item in question, thoughtful even as she admits to herself that she'll never know the true context of that ring.

"No one should try to be a hero."

[firebrawl]

"You're either a hero or you ain't one? Heard that before." Mick rubs the edge of the ring with a thumb before it disappears again. "Not sure if it's a load, but nobody figured on us swooping in and saving the world. Did it anyway."

And he knows if Len was here, they wouldn't have walked out of that museum empty-handed. Right back to thieving, he's sure of it. It's why he'd tried to get back to it himself.

[slam_poetry]

She shook her head, watching his eyes now.

"You do what you need to," she said firmly, her gaze flicking to the ring, to his fingers holding it. "You do it because you can't not do it."

[firebrawl]

There's a snorted laugh, not because what she's saying is untrue—it's probably truer than anything else, the good and the bad—but because it's coming from her, Cass, Batgirl, whoever and whatever she is.

"How old are you?" he asks suddenly. Mick knows well enough that appearance isn't any kind of gauge, and he's curious. She's latched on to him, of all people, out of nowhere, and he's not minding it as much as he would've expected.

[slam_poetry]

"I don't know exactly," she admits, and it's the truth. Her understanding of time hadn't been very good before Barbara, which meant that she had very little knowledge of how long she'd been out and wandering after she'd left David Cain. She could ask him, but she'd rather rip off her own arms.

That man had nothing she needed.

"Mid-twenties."

But-

"Why?"

[firebrawl]

Mick shrugs and finally downs the shot that's been burning in front of him. Maybe it's a waste, but it's the flame he wants as much as the burn.

"Dunno. 'Cause you're a sharp kid."

[slam_poetry]

She looks over at him and the message is clear.

She is no kid. She has never been a kid. She would never be a kid. It's not angry or defiant or even indignant.

It's just a correction.

[firebrawl]

And it's the first thing that's gotten a genuine grin out of him since they met.

Got it. Not a kid. Just sharp. There's another shoulder bump—Mick had always been the more tactile one, Len had just gotten used to it—as he continues, "Just wondering why you got nothin' better to do, is all."

[slam_poetry]

The nudge gets a smile. But the raised eyebrow pointed out, in no uncertain terms, that he also apparently had nothing to do. What was he doing here?

[firebrawl]

"Hey," he says, shifting enough to point at her. "I had plans earlier. Changed 'em, under the circumstances. But if you're in the City helpin' the kid, how come you're here now instead."

He shrugs, still at ease with her there. "Not trying to send you away, just curious. Can't see me bein' of much interest to you, now I'm followin' the rules." For now, anyway.

[slam_poetry]

She rolls her eyes at him, just a little. He'd said it earlier, after all. But she'll use her words if he's going to be silly.

"I'm off shift."

She'd been on patrol for quite a while before she'd stumbled on him. Not to mention that she intrigued him. She wanted to know more.