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]

"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.

[firebrawl]

His huff was less exasperation and more amused resignation. He has a shadow for tonight, looks like. An off-duty shadow named Cass, who sometimes dresses up like a bat and talks people out of stealing things they hadn't much felt like stealing in the first place.

Before he can ask if she plays pool, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. "Rory. Where's your slimier half, anyway? Got a score to settle with him. Tell me!"

He knows that voice, some no-talent Snart had roped in on a job gone bad, ages back. He doesn't turn, or even look away from Cass. "That score's old news. He don't owe you a thing. I'm in a generous mood, so you can have your hand back before I burn it off."

[slam_poetry]

But she can see. And she can see that the man has no intention of letting it alone. Before he can even move, she moves, perhaps not as fast as the Flash, but fast enough to have her legs around his head as she flips him to the ground, ending with her knee just above his throat. She looks down and makes the point very clearly that she has no interest in continuing to kick his ass and that he is more than welcome to make himself scarce... but that's pretty much his options.

She follows that with a little smile before slowly drawing herself back up to stand, tossing her hair back into place, and grinning over at Mick. The whole thing was to serve three purposes: to remove this particular distraction, to make it clear to everyone else that it would be a very bad idea to bother her, and to tell Mick in a helpful sort of way that had he NOT put things down again, she definitely would have kicked his ass.

[firebrawl]

Holy hell. That might be the most unexpected thing outta the evening. He'd figured she could fight, she wouldn't be running around anywhere dressed like a bat if she couldn't, but. He can't help it. He starts laughing. He's still laughing when the guy slinks back to his feet and hightails it out of there without making eye contact with anyone else, and the door shuts behind him.

"Handy," he says, and orders another pair of shots. He's buying the drinks anyway, but let him buy you a drink for that one. He gives the rest of the bar a look, backing up her don't step up stare, and pats the bar stool again. "Woulda recruited you in the old days. Bet Lise would like you."

[slam_poetry]

"There was a time when I might have said yes," she admits, because it's the truth. She'd never kill anyone; killing was something she'd rejected at the age of eight. But the rest of her morality had been a strange and wobbling thing until she'd found the Bat.