Fun fact: three of my WIPs supposed to feature Helena cut right before she makes an appearance. I'm guessing the lady intimidates me.
This is what was written as the next scene of a potential follow-up on the Helena+Oracle part of the fic about each time a Robin wasn't born (http://runespoor7.livejournal.com/91564.html). I still think that team-up and that situation have a lot of potential.
*
The person with two books in front of them turns out to be a young woman, about Helena's age. Now Helena understand why Oracle insisted on there being no flowers. They certainly would've attracted more attention that way.
The young woman – bright red hair, glasses – waves her arm when Helena comes in.
“Helena! Over here!” She's smiling widely. Obviously she was afraid that Helena might otherwise dismiss the idea of the person she'd agreed to meet being a woman. Whether she's an agent of Oracle or Oracle herself, what with the voice scrambler, Helena has no idea.
“You'll forgive me for not standing up,” she says as Helena comes closer. The tone's joking but now Helena can see that she's in a wheelchair, and Helena would bet that she's sizing her up behind those glasses of hers.
She shrugs. “Don't worry. Sorry for being late.” Not ten minutes yet, but as a teacher she knows the value of punctuality.
“It's okay. Here, sit down.”
Helena does. The table the woman's chosen is situated so that neither of them are turning their backs to the entrance door, which she can appreciate. It'll probably prove measly if it's a set-up, and it'd have been far safer not to show up at all, but once she made her mind, well. She decided to call herself the Huntress, not the Hider-until-trouble-goes-away.
This has the epic distinction of being the first thing I ever wrote about the DCU.
*
Dick was scrutinizing the cable with something akin to dread when the slightest pat behind him alerted him to another's presence. Pinching the metal cable between two fingers, he turned around.
“I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what this is all about before you...”
The slight figure of Batgirl cocked her head to the side, and she raised her hands in the universal gesture for “I have no idea what you're talking about”. It also doubled as “I am unarmed”, her open palms turned toward the sky.
Nightwing shook his head. “Never mind. Thought you'd be someone else for a moment, sorry about that.”
The black orbits of her mask stared at him. Nightwing wondered if he was right in suspecting amusement in her stance, or if his Batman body language dictionary required a lot of updates before it could be consistently relied upon so he could have anything at all resembling a conversation with the family's newest addition. He'd been raised in a circus; he was probably the one of the kids who had the least difficulty getting Batgirl, but even he occasionally would've liked to go on something more solid than his instincts.
He eyed her for a second more before looking down at the cable again, rolling it between his fingers. It felt marginally more rigid than it should've been; cooked. Nightwing had used the Bat-cables countless times to get into burning buildings, and they'd never even got warm. It gave him a scale of how much damage it'd taken.
It had been neatly sliced off. Nightwing struggled to think of half a dozen day-to-day circumstances that might result in neatly sliced off Bat-cables. Of course, if his gut worry was founded, then the circumstance was about as far from day-to-day as you could get without referring to the Justice League, and even then...
That Batman was away on League business only added to his hunch.
“Batman wanted us to stick together,” he said, tearing his gaze from the portent of doom in his hand.
It wasn't a question, but Batgirl nodded anyway.
Well, that was that.
“I think we've found the root of his recent moodiness,” he added, finally dropping the cable. He wasn't going to learn any more from it, and unless they decided to stay put until something blew up, it was time to get a move on.
Batgirl had ducked her head forward as if biting down a smile or a chuckle.
“Yeah, I know, terrible thought. Don't tell him I said that.”
In anyone else, that could have been a giggle, he noted with some satisfaction as he retrieved his grapple hook.
“Anyway, I'm glad he's paranoid and you're here. If I'm right about what's got him in that mood and what cut that cable, we might be facing us an Amazo, and I don't think I need to tell you just how much I'd love to do that on lonely old some. Not.”
Her only response was to look back expectantly at Nightwing, her grapple in her hand.
Wordlessly, he shot the grapple, and the air started rushing around his ears.
Bruce, next time stop turning everything into a test for the new kid and leave us a word about your suspicions.
To be fair to Bruce, I think this one was less about a test and more about trusting her to do a good job while at the same time wanting to know what Dick thought of her. And wanting them to work well together.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 11:19 pm (UTC)This is what was written as the next scene of a potential follow-up on the Helena+Oracle part of the fic about each time a Robin wasn't born (http://runespoor7.livejournal.com/91564.html). I still think that team-up and that situation have a lot of potential.
*
The person with two books in front of them turns out to be a young woman, about Helena's age. Now Helena understand why Oracle insisted on there being no flowers. They certainly would've attracted more attention that way.
The young woman – bright red hair, glasses – waves her arm when Helena comes in.
“Helena! Over here!” She's smiling widely. Obviously she was afraid that Helena might otherwise dismiss the idea of the person she'd agreed to meet being a woman. Whether she's an agent of Oracle or Oracle herself, what with the voice scrambler, Helena has no idea.
“You'll forgive me for not standing up,” she says as Helena comes closer. The tone's joking but now Helena can see that she's in a wheelchair, and Helena would bet that she's sizing her up behind those glasses of hers.
She shrugs. “Don't worry. Sorry for being late.” Not ten minutes yet, but as a teacher she knows the value of punctuality.
“It's okay. Here, sit down.”
Helena does. The table the woman's chosen is situated so that neither of them are turning their backs to the entrance door, which she can appreciate. It'll probably prove measly if it's a set-up, and it'd have been far safer not to show up at all, but once she made her mind, well. She decided to call herself the Huntress, not the Hider-until-trouble-goes-away.
no subject
Date: 2011-07-09 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-10 02:29 am (UTC)Every touch a smile, Dick+Cass
Date: 2011-07-10 08:36 am (UTC)*
Dick was scrutinizing the cable with something akin to dread when the slightest pat behind him alerted him to another's presence. Pinching the metal cable between two fingers, he turned around.
“I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what this is all about before you...”
The slight figure of Batgirl cocked her head to the side, and she raised her hands in the universal gesture for “I have no idea what you're talking about”. It also doubled as “I am unarmed”, her open palms turned toward the sky.
Nightwing shook his head. “Never mind. Thought you'd be someone else for a moment, sorry about that.”
The black orbits of her mask stared at him. Nightwing wondered if he was right in suspecting amusement in her stance, or if his Batman body language dictionary required a lot of updates before it could be consistently relied upon so he could have anything at all resembling a conversation with the family's newest addition. He'd been raised in a circus; he was probably the one of the kids who had the least difficulty getting Batgirl, but even he occasionally would've liked to go on something more solid than his instincts.
He eyed her for a second more before looking down at the cable again, rolling it between his fingers. It felt marginally more rigid than it should've been; cooked. Nightwing had used the Bat-cables countless times to get into burning buildings, and they'd never even got warm. It gave him a scale of how much damage it'd taken.
It had been neatly sliced off. Nightwing struggled to think of half a dozen day-to-day circumstances that might result in neatly sliced off Bat-cables. Of course, if his gut worry was founded, then the circumstance was about as far from day-to-day as you could get without referring to the Justice League, and even then...
That Batman was away on League business only added to his hunch.
“Batman wanted us to stick together,” he said, tearing his gaze from the portent of doom in his hand.
It wasn't a question, but Batgirl nodded anyway.
Well, that was that.
“I think we've found the root of his recent moodiness,” he added, finally dropping the cable. He wasn't going to learn any more from it, and unless they decided to stay put until something blew up, it was time to get a move on.
Batgirl had ducked her head forward as if biting down a smile or a chuckle.
“Yeah, I know, terrible thought. Don't tell him I said that.”
In anyone else, that could have been a giggle, he noted with some satisfaction as he retrieved his grapple hook.
“Anyway, I'm glad he's paranoid and you're here. If I'm right about what's got him in that mood and what cut that cable, we might be facing us an Amazo, and I don't think I need to tell you just how much I'd love to do that on lonely old some. Not.”
Her only response was to look back expectantly at Nightwing, her grapple in her hand.
Wordlessly, he shot the grapple, and the air started rushing around his ears.
Bruce, next time stop turning everything into a test for the new kid and leave us a word about your suspicions.
Re: Every touch a smile, Dick+Cass
Date: 2011-07-10 10:02 am (UTC)Re: Every touch a smile, Dick+Cass
Date: 2011-07-10 10:07 am (UTC)Not helping, I'm aware.