multiversallogs | I know it's hard but...

Entry tags:

I know it's hard but...

Who: Steph Brown, others [closed]
What: Monster fighting, rescues, healing
Where: All around Baedal
When: Over a two week period since Hasi broke reality
Notes: Everyone has their own thread starter, which are in no particular order, if there are any problems/questions please let me know!
Warnings: NPC death, gore, violence, monsters, PTSD, my inability to be succint, if I've missed any feel free to tell me

The monsters are new for her.

It's not that she isn't used to dealing with all the assorted bullshit that Gotham can throw at a vigilante, but there's nothing quite like this. There are people like Killer Croc and Zsasz and Black Mask, who might be horrific, but they're still people. These monsters are more like animals, but they're huge and violent and they hunt people. She's not trained for this, she's not equipped for this and she sure as hell isn't prepared for it. Getting the gun and new batarangs from Rex helps, and she adds a large hunting knife to her array of weaponry, but it still doesn't feel like enough.

It's terrifying, in a way that she doesn't have time to deal with, so she pushes that down and focuses on doing what she can. There's moments, as she faces down things that eclipse her worst nightmares, when she wonders if she should be hiding instead of out here fighting. But there are other moments, times when she wins, when she gets to reunite a parent with their lost child, and it doesn't matter that Steph is bleeding, bruised and exhausted, because she did good.

At the behest of Babs, and the reminders her own body sends, she forces herself to stop and rest once in a while. Usually she goes back to wherever Babs is, or Kate, if she happens to be resting at the same time. Her sleep happens in small bursts, a few hours here or there, curled up near Babs or Kate and letting the exhaustion take over. She tries not to eat too much, because she has no idea how long these monsters will stay in the city and she's scared that food will start running out. She's already started collect supplies, bringing them to the safe places and distributing them to people.

She doesn't think about the dead bodies she sees, or the injured people. A lot of Baedalites can look after themselves, but some of them can't and it's those who end up as smears on a wall. Except for when she has to stop to throw up, after seeing half eaten corpses; then she thinks about it, and she doesn't know how long she can keep going out and coming back alive.

She hopes no one will hold it against her if she gets killed.

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It takes her a little while to notice him, considering she's distracted by shooting, and occasionally kicking Seplatives. When she does see him, it happens as a sort of doubletake -- her gaze drifts over him once and then snaps back for a few seconds before she has to give her attention to the task at hand again.

She's already thinking about what to do. She's pretty sure her uniform could withstand the shot from the distance, but that's not really something she wants to risk right now. That's definitely Jim, though, which means she can probably trust him to act quickly and follow an order if she gives him one, because her next idea involves letting the seplavites know he's there.

Her gaze snaps back to him, "Aim left!" Is all that gets shouted at him before Steph is moving, hoping he'll do what she asks. At her shout, the seplavites had turned their attention to Jim - they're smarter than they look - and they're now sniffing him out, which gives Steph a split second to leap over them, to her left, which is Jim's right and hopefully not where he's going to be shooting.

She nearly makes it, too, except one notices her at the last second and launches itself at her, knocking them both to the ground a few feet away from the pack. Steph loses her grip on her gun, but she's strong enough to grapple with the seplavite, as long as it's friends aren't planning to join it.

She's praying Jim got the shot, and that he'll be taking more.

Aim left, he hears, and he readies the shotgun. He's focused on the battle, mind moving fast enough to only need an instant to understand she means his left--she'd hardly tell him to shoot where she planned to be.

The creatures turn on him, and he keeps advancing, firing, cocking the gun, firing again. Three go down, the others scatter, giving him a wider berth now that they realize he can do damage.

...Wait, no, one's got the woman. The quarters are too close now for him to keep using the shotgun. He moves closer to the group, dropping the shotgun and replacing it as fast as he can with the handgun. That's still enough time for the nearest one to leap at him; he just manages to dodge being knocked off his feet but his balance is thrown for a moment.

He recovers and he snaps off two shots at the one now lying prone before turning back to the others, circling. "You okay?" he calls over his shoulder, at the woman grappling with one of the creatures herself. He isn't sure he can get a clear enough shot to go for the monster and he's afraid that in the second it would take him to turn and aim, the rest might be on them. He fires a few more shots, trying to thin the herd in case he does have to turn and help her.

Thank God, she thinks, as she hears the repeated shots, glad her faith wasn't misplaced because things would've gotten seriously messy if it was. And it's kind of messy anyway. The seplavite tries to bite her arm, but her armor holds up, and Steph takes the opportunity to throw her weight up, flipping them over so she's on top. It makes some kind of noise, like a howl and a groan mixed together, and it sounds awful, so Steph decides to shut it up by headbutting what's left of it's head.

Which, okay, it's super gross when she feels teeth crack, and she's so grateful for her cowl right now, to save getting teeth and bits of face in her hair, but at least it shuts it up. She hears Jim call to her and replies back with a quick, "It's under control!"

The seplavite is still trying to hurt her, despite the fact it's now missing most of it's head, but she has the upper hand and it's struggling to keep a hold of her. She shoves it's hands off her, stands and in one swift motion, has her staff off her belt, extended, and driven straight down into the seplavites chest. It goes straight through, her staff hitting concrete after breaking through ribs and decayed organs. The seplavite stops moving.

In the next instant, her staff is back on her belt and she's retrieved her gun and started firing shots in quick succession, attempting to take the rest of them out as quickly as she can.

He doesn't spare a look back to see that she's handled the seplavite, satisfied that it's done when he hears her shots start ringing out. She's just in time; his gun clicks, the chamber empty. Out of ammunition.

He takes advantage of her joining the shooting match and he ejects the empty magazine one-handed, his other hand going into his coat for a reload. But one of the seplavites also sees its opening, and it lunges for Jim. He closes his left fist around the magazine, using its added heft to add to the punch he throws as he turns the gun around in his right to use as a bludgeoning tool.

The creature reels for a moment, and then lunges a second time, managing to grab a handful of Jim's jacket. Jim spins in its grasp, raining blows with the gun, his fist, his elbows, direct hits on sensitive spots--the seplavite's face, throat, solar plexus. He's got it winded but it's got the grasp on him and the weight advantage, and they both go down.

They roll together, and there's a metallic snap-click followed by a pair of gunshots between their bodies. They both go still, the seplavite atop Jim; after a long moment he stirs and pushes it off, rolling to escape its dead weight and getting to his feet.

He snaps off more shots at the ones still standing. "You good?" he asks, canting his head at her weapon. He doesn't want to say reload out loud, in case they understand, in case another one gets the same bright idea about taking advantage.

It's easier now, two against a dozen, because the seplavites don't have Steph surrounded anymore. She takes down three in a row without any difficulties, but as she shoots at a fourth, one tries to come at her from behind. It's too stupid to stay quiet, growling at her right before it makes a grab, and Steph reacts instantly; she jumps, flipping backwards over the seplavite and landing in a crouch to fire off more shots.

She sees Jim go down and starts to run towards him, but she's distracted by another seplavite leaping at her and she doesn't have time to bring up the gun and fire. Instead, she smashes her elbow into it's face and when it drops into a crouch she follows with a heel kick, bringing her leg up and then smashing it down on the creature's shoulder. She's so grateful for the reinforcement in her boots -- the force of that kick could've snapped her ankle. The seplavite's not dead, but two shots of energy from her gun take care of that. She's relieved to see Jim's alright once she turns her attention back to him.

There are only five left when Jim asks his question, "Peachy," Steph answers. Her gun doesn't need reloading, though she does a quick check of the power crystal to make sure it's still bright - it is - and then she shoots at two of the remaining five, taking them down. "You?"

Jim could swear, for a moment, that there is something familiar about the woman's voice. But there's no time to give it any deeper thought; monsters first, trying to guess at identities later.

"I got a few more where that one came from, I'm good." he came prepared, knowing the handgun wasn't the never-reload weapon a phaser was. And it's a good thing he did, at the rate they're firing at the seplavites. The damned things don't go down with a single shot. Very little seems to--that's another adjustment he's had to make, phasers usually solved problems, by stun or by deadly force, instantly.

He fires three times at the nearest one and it goes down.

Steph makes quick work of the final two, taking them down with a few shots each - even the energy weapon doesn't make a one shot kill, when it comes to supernatural creatures - because she doesn't want Jim to use too many bullets. Her gun just has to recharge, but if he runs out of bullets, he's kind of screwed.

With all the seplavites dead, or too injured to move, Steph slips her gun back into it's holster and takes a few moments to catch her breath. She's fit, but fighting a bunch of crawly, grabby monsters took more out of her than she thought.

"Thanks for the save, Captain," There might be a hint of teasing in her voice, mostly because she's interested to see his reaction when he realizes she knows him. She'll tell him who she is in a second, if he doesn't figure it out himself. It's kind of past the time for secret identities, at least with people she's familiar with.

He joins her in that moment, relieved it's over and they're both still standing. He ejects the handgun's magazine, checking to see how much ammunition is left, so he's prepared for the next fight. He's about to go pick up his shotgun when she addresses him.

By title.

She knows him?

He casts an appraising eye over her, trying to place the build, the hair, the posture. But it's the voice he finally puts a name to, eyebrows raised, surprised and impressed.

"...Steph?"

Steph grins, both pleased and amused, "The one and only," She holds the sides of her cape like a skirt and curtsies, because sometimes she needs to do ridiculous things to celebrate not getting eaten by demons.

"Or Batgirl, when I'm dressed like this. I'm supposed to have a secret identity, but it's tricky to do here," A lot of people in Baedal are like everyone in the superhero community -- they'er out fighting the good fight even if they don't have a costume and cape to do it in, and Steph finds it hard to keep secrets from them. Having a cohort doesn't help, it seems to make everyone fairly closeknit.

He laughs, delighted and a bit celebratory himself; they're alive, and holy crap, the girl he busted in on in the park one night is a costumed superhero like in the old motion pictures back home.

"So this is what you do, in Gotham? Is this an officially-sanctioned thing or an in-spite-of-the cops thing?"

"This is what I do. Back home the cops put up with most of us, as long as we toe the line," That is, as long as they don't start killing. "Here, my plan is to fuck their shit up," Her smile shifts, going a little hard, because seriously, fuck the militia. She'd probably be working against them right now, if monsters hadn't fallen out of the sky.

Speaking of monseters, "We should probably..." Ended with a vague gesture at first the dead seplavites and then in a general direction away from them. They should probably stop standing so close to dead things, in case something bigger comes looking for a meal.

"Huh. Well, off the record, I can get behind that. Hellsing obviously has to play nice with the Militia and therefore so do I. But I endorse that sentiment."

He raises his eyebrows. Oh. Right. "Yeah, we probably should. There's no telling what might come through here next. Let's get out while we can. Anyplace in particular you're headed?"

"I knew I liked you for a reason," If Jim wasn't Hellsing affliated, she'd invite him to join their anti-militia, anarchy club. But as it is, she doesn't want to get him in trouble with both the militia and his bosses at Hellsing.

"I was out on a supply run before those cornered me," Which was an extremely bad move on her part; she got distracted keeping an eye out for the giant flying thing she'd seen, and hadn't noticed the seplavites trailing after her until it'd been too late. She's had to stray farther from the safe places to find food and medical supplies, and it makes it more dangerous every time she goes out.

He nods, grimly shouldering the shotgun. "Lead the way. I'll cover you. Which way were you headed?"

A moment's pause as he considers what she said. "...How many people do you need supplies for? It's not just you, is it?"

"Canker Wedge, there's, uh," She makes a bit of a face as she starts walking, carefully stepping over dead seplavites, her cape trailing behind her, "One of those giant robots there, which means it hasn't been looted much. It's meant for mutants, so it should leave me, and you - unless you've been keeping secrets too - alone."

Sometimes the Sentinels seem to go after baseline humans as well, but so far Steph has found they leave her alone if she stays out of their line of site.

"O--" It's automatic to say Oracle when Steph is in costume, she has to keep catching herself, "Barbara opened her place up as a safe house, there's about fifteen people there at the moment. I'm mostly looking for medical supplies, though. I've been running low since I got to Baedal, and this has made it worse." There's so many more people to stitch up.

Steph keeps close to the buildings as they walk, footfalls silent and a hand resting on her gun, ready to draw it as soon as it's needed. But the streets seem fairly empty at the moment.

"Nope. I'm a standard baseline human. No mutations. Someone... Actually created weapons to search out people with genetic mutations?" the incredulous and annoyed tone of his voice gives away just how much bullshit he thinks that is, it's ridiculous and wrong.

He keeps alert too, shotgun at the ready, eyes scanning the street for any sign of movement while they walk. "When this is over, remind me to see what I can do to help you build up a stockpile of medical supplies. So you're ready for next time."

"Some of my friends come from a world where mutants are basically second class citizens, they're treated awfully," It's clear that Steph finds this both upsetting and angering, she simultaneously wants to punch everyone who's ever been bigoted against a mutant, while hugging all her friends who've been made to feel terrible.

"Thank you," She looks at him for a second, just to smile, "Back home I'd gotten too used to having everything I need on hand. That was a mistake," Being Batgirl had come with a lot of perks, and it's made her complacent. Baedal is slowly breaking her out of that, but there are still some things she needs to get better with.

"That's terrible. Bigotry of any kind is unacceptable in an enlightened society. Hell, in any society. But the idea of stooping so low as to make weapons to target those who are different... I can't get my head around it."

He nods, knowingly. "It's an adjustment being here. I think I was complacent for a while, too. I was on a ship, I was used to having everything ready at my command, having all the resources and help I needed. It took me a while to get out of that mindset."

"People are fucking awful," she answers with a bit of a shrug, her tone almost going bitter, "Most of the weapons just aren't literal. There are quieter ways to wipe out minorities." Like dependence on a messed up welfare system that leaves kids as statistics from gang violence, domestic abuse or drug overdoses.

"It's tricky to do, I'm gonna have to start thinking like Spoiler again," which is a reference he won't get at all, but that's also a hard adjustment to make sometimes, especailly when she's in Batgirl mode; she's so used to talking to people who know her history.

Jim is quiet for a few long moments as they walk, taking all that in. He forgets sometimes that what is history for him is current affairs for others, that they aren't all from the same world.

"If it helps," he offers, solemn, "and I don't know if it does, but if it does: by my time, we've wiped a lot of that kind of prejudice out on Earth. I hope I don't sound condescending or privileged for saying that, or for saying that I just cannot comprehend that level of discrimination and hate."

A pause, and then: "Who's Spoiler?"

"It helps," Not just him saying it, but also for him understanding that he could sound condescending, "I'm almost glad you can't comprehend it, considering how easy that sort of hate comes for some people." At the end of the day, Steph is still a hell of a lot luckier than some people, but it's nice to know things get better in the future.

"Oh," It surprises a smile out of her, as she mentally chastises herself for forgetting that not everyone in the multiverse watched the broadcasts of her dad telling the world about the Spoiler, "Me, before I was Batgirl. It was the first name I used, back when I was fifteen and trying to stop my dad."

"Okay, good. Because I know it can sound like it's the easiest thing in the world for me or that I'm dismissing what other people are or have experienced because I haven't had to deal with it myself. And that's not right."

He laughs, glancing down at her before resuming his watchful sweep of the street. "The Spoiler. I like it. It's a fitting name for what you were trying to do."

"Thank you," So many people don't get it, especially those who really should, "And don't worry too much, if you're being a dick about it, I'll make sure you know." She always made Tim know when he messed up, complaining about being middle class, like not being rich was the most awful thing in the world.

"I liked it too. Dad called himeslf the Cluemaster, so I thought it worked," It explains a lot, little things like that; she grew up with a criminal for a dad, it's how she ended up running around in kevlar and spandex. She doesn't realize she's talking in past tense about her dad, she'd gotten so used to doing it that it's a hard habit to break even though she knows he's alive now. It doesn't help that she'd like to pretend he really did die.

"Good to know." And honestly, he wouldn't mind having it pointed out to him. That's part of why he trusts Bones so much, why he respects him so much--Bones isn't afraid to call him out when it's needed.

"The Cluemaster, huh?" He can guess the guy was up to no good, if Steph was trying to stop him. And way out of hand, for her to go against her own father.

"Gotham sounds like a hell of a place to grow up."

"He used to leave clues for the cops," Her expression clearly indicates she thinks this is a terrible way to be a criminal. The only time he was ever succesful was when he didn't leave the clues, and that was when Steph had to step in.

She laughs at that, not quite bitter, but not really with humor either, "That's not even half of it. There's a reason we have the most infamous mental asylum in the world."

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