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Post by castiel on May 30, 2011 22:10:19 GMT -5
Jack had made a friend quite quickly after arriving in Gotham City, a slightly older looking man named Mikey who had wasted no time pronouncing the two of them 'buds.' This had been following what Mikey had explained as a greeting ritual, wherein he had demanded Jack 'Give him all his money.' Jack, to his embaressment, had thought the young man was demanding the 'money' that Father had given him and, remembering the words Reginald had left him with, he had politely declined. The embaressment only grew when he remembered what had happened next; continuing the greeting ritual, Mikey had pulled a ceremonial 'switchblade' and had pretended to try and stab Jack in the stomach. Jack's training, interpreting this friendly greeting as an attack, had disarmed the young man and very nearly broken his wrist in the process, after which Mikey had wasted little time in clarifying that it was all part of the greeting ritual.
Jack, mortified, had apologized profusely for his behavior, and Mikey had generously assured him that there was a way he could be repaid.
This was why Jack now found himself skillfully perched on a building ledge three stories above the pavement, the narrow shelf not bothering him in the slightest as he peered through the window he had been directed to by the ever-helpful Mikey. The other man was standing on the sidewalk down below, jaw agap; when he had pointed the proper window out to Jack, he had expected the man to try breaking down the door. He hadn't expected the youth to climb up the goddamn rainpipe.
"It won't open," Jack called down loudly, frowning when Mikey jumped and shushed him, following the younger boy's gaze as it flitted back and forth along the street.
"Well, man, I mean, it's my place," Mikey called back up, his voice much lower, shrugging and spreading his hands out, trying his best to look unconcerned. "I mean, was planning to get new windows anyway, so just smash one. Just, uh, be quick about it, don't want to wake up the neighbors, late night like this, all right?"
"All right," Jack replied softly, once more providing the thumbs-up gesture as if to confirm its continuing validity. When the young thug down below just waved him towards the window, Jack took a deep breath and turned around again, eyeing his target with some confusion. At first he gave the surface a light rap with his knuckles, flinching away as if expecting it to explode in his face; when the tap did nothing, he grunted, shrugged, and drew his fist back, swinging at the window with all the force he could muster.
The fragile glass proved no match for the blow, and the windowpane shattered beneath it. The broken window got its revenge, however, as a jagged piece of glass swiped across the back of his hand, the sudden flare of pain making him twitch with shock. Lifting the injured hand, he watched curiously as the pain receded to a dull throb, and blood began to flow copiously from the slash, but with a small shrug he simply lowered the hand again. Droplets of his blood fell to the floor as he carefully slipped through the broken window, but he paid them no heed, beginning to scan the room for whatever it was his friend had specified.
A moment later his head stuck back out the window, searching for a moment before he spotted Mikey; the teen had retreated halfway across the street.
"There are a lot of metal and stone things in here," Jack called down, remembering to keep his voice low. "Which ones are yours?"
Down below, Mikey looked like he was going to have a stroke, the effort of looking solemn and serious causing his facial muscles to twitch in places. He hadn't been expecting this to be so wildly successful; not only because he had expected this moron to wise up at any minute, but because he simply hadn't expected that moron to be a skilled climber, acrobat, and apparently fearless daredevil. Even if the cops did show up, he could just jog across the street and slip into the alleyway before they came into sight. If some hero showed up...
Well, he'd just be an innocent bystander, attracted to the sound of the break in.
"All've them," he managed to squeak, face red now with repressed laughter. "Just... all mine, every... single one've them. Just throw down... much as you can get at... c'mon... don't want folks to wake up. Just break the cases if you can't open em, doesn't bother me in the slightest."
Nodding earnestly, Jack vanished once again as he began to move from case to case. At the first one, he raised his uninjured hand to similarly smash the glass pane, but after a moment he thought better of it, instead taking a small, ornamental statuette and using it to bludgeon open the case. While he certainly found the entire situation strange, and part of him did question this man's apparently total lack of access to his own property, he simply chalked it up to his own inexperience. After all, he had already seen many strange things during his short time in this place; 'sidewalks' that you were supposed to use instead of the perfectly serviceable, much wider patches of ground that the 'cars' hogged. Horns that seemed to honk all the time for no real reason when these 'cars' got together in suitable numbers. Women offering love for money, but then shying away when he asked if they were his mother. Perhaps people just forgot how to get into places they owned often, and needed to break their way through; he had certainly seen enough broken down buildings to support that.
As Mikey waited, already beginning to fidgit and wonder whether all the alarms had been successfully disabled when the power grid blacked out a half hour ago, Jack began to move rings, necklaces and bracelets from their cases into the small bag he had been given. So focused was he on the task, he didn't even notice that his own blood was seeping into the rim of the cloth sack, or that his right hand was beginning to grow just a little numb. Rather, he was far too determined to finish this task his new friend had given him, and to do it without waking a single one of the neighbors.
He just wanted to be helpful, after all.
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2011 22:35:16 GMT -5
Though Hawkgirl hasn't been in Gotham for too long, she has to assume that her presence isn't bothering Batman. Mostly because she hasn't tried to keep her presence quiet and she hasn't seen him - either to tell her to get lost or to ask for her help. Then again, a part of the latter is probably because she tends to prefer the day shift - flying through a city night can be tricky, especially at her speeds. And if it's not disturbing Batman, she's happy that she decided to pay Gotham an extended visit - things have been much too quiet for her in St. Roch and she'd heard that there'd been a surge of crime here.
Knowing how protective the bat was about 'his' city, she hasn't spent much time doing investigations even though she has the skills for that - the Bat family probably had those covered between them and that would probably be stepping on their toes. Instead she's simply been patrolling, using her natural abilities to lead her to crimes in progress. Which is just as well for her because that's the part of being a hero when you get to smash a few heads together. And hopefully her efforts will give the resident vigilantes more time to focus on larger crimes.
Today she found enough action to keep her out late, but even though she's technically on her way home she's keeping an eye and an ear out for any trouble happening in the city passing below her. Which is a good thing, because she's far enough away when the window breaks that she may have missed that distinctive sound if she hadn't been paying attention. Making a quick course correction, she heads in the direction it came from as she smiles to herself - just because she's already had a long day doesn't mean that she's not ready for more action.
When she gets closer she can hear the sound of quiet voices, and unfortunately for Mikey, she's not like the heroes he's probably expecting. For one thing, her eyesight and hearing are much better than a human's - she's able to see him and hear him well before she arrives and long before he'd spot her flying above the rooftops. Secondly, while most heroes would automatically go for the one in the building first instead of the one who seems to be acting more as a lookout, Hawkgirl has a certain dislike of tight spaces - even if what she'd heard them saying as she approaches hadn't seemed to indicate that it was the man on the ground who was giving orders.
When she draws near, there's nearly no sound as she pulls into a dive - Mikey's only hope of seeing her would be if he was purposely watching the sky, but even seeing her coming probably wouldn't help. Even if he spots her and tries to run, she's flying much too fast for him to get away. Though she knows better than to try and attack him while she's still flying, the momentum would probably kill him. Instead she pulls up at the last second so that she'll drop right in front of him, ready for him to try to fight. They usually do. And actually Hawkgirl prefers to be on the defensive when she's fighting ordinary humans since it's easier to avoid hurting them too badly. For similar reason, she'll keep her mace attached to her waistband unless he produces a gun.
"Hello there," she says with a smile, knowing that this will be quick. Then she can brave trying to squeeze through that window and going after whoever is inside.
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Post by castiel on May 30, 2011 22:40:57 GMT -5
The punk didn't see Hawkgirl coming until she landed right in front of him, his attention having wandered down the street as she made her final approach. Squawking and leaping back in surprise, the young man stared at her, wide-eyed, seemed on the verge of running, then looked up at the broken window, licking his lips as an alternate plan came to mind. At this point, Mikey didn't know who the hell he had been taking advantage of- some mutant, or Robin with amnesia- but as he faced the defeat that was a certain path to prison, he realized that he really only had this wrong-in-the-head sucker to count on now. So, rather than try to deal with the hero on his own, he opted for plan B, calling out as loud as he could.
"Buddy! Buddy, help, man, this crazy chick's trying to kill me! Help!"
The first call caused Jack's head to pop up, ears almost pricked upwards as he glanced towards the window. He had managed to cover most of the room's jewelery stash by now, having loaded up with enough precious things to fill the bag to a fair degree. His injured hand was nearly useless now, something that concerned him, but he had just planned to ask Mikey about it when he got back to the ground. He was halfway across the room when the second 'buddy' sounded, and by the time Mikey babbled the rest of his plea, the young man was scurrying across the ledge. Fortunately, blood loss aside, every step along the narrow path was very well placed, and he didn't even watch where he was going as he returned to the same point he had climbed up. Tucking the bag under his armpit, he used his working hand and feet to half-slide, half-scurry back down the drainpipe, hopping off the last half-story and landing on his feet. A slight stumble suggested, however, that not all was right with his limbs at that time, and he came to a halt about nine feet from the woman, straightening slowly.
Considering the woman, his eyes were wide and unblinking, a little boy staring at the monster in his closet. His Father had told him once what killing was, what it really was. Those words were with him to this day, and the idea that someone would perpetrate such an act repelled and terrified him all at once.
"Why..." he paused and blinked, as for just a moment his head spun a bit, the wounded, bloodied hand flexing subconsciously and releasing another trickle. "Why are you trying to kill my friend?" he finally asked, looking between her and the half-terrified, half-outraged Mikey. The way he phrased the question, in particular his emphasis on the word 'kill,' suggested the deepest and most profound disturbance; a disgust that such a concept even existed, and even though he didn't look, or even feel, hostile or aggressive towards her, he looked upon her with the greatest distrust. Having taken the word of his new friend at face value, believing it with all his heart, he saw this new arrival as nothing short of monstrous, and any movement she tried to make towards him, no matter how gentle or slow, would be greeted with an immediate and sharp step backwards.
Mikey, however, was a little less passive about all this, urging the thoroughly confused young man as he tried to slowly back away from the intimidating hero. "C'mon, man, she's gonna kill both of us, she, uh, she wants the stuff for herself! Yeah, she wants to snap our necks, and then take the shiny metal and rocks! We can't let her do that, man! Toss me the bag and, like, kung fu kick her or something, I got your back dawg!"
"You do?" Jack glanced over his shoulder automatically, frowning.
"Nooo, no, I... I m-mean..." Rapidly losing the power of comprehensive speech, Mikey did what every desperate thug did sooner or later; he lunged at the young woman, swinging with a clumsy, half-panicked roundhouse punch at her head. Maybe he was hoping the things he had heard about Hawkgirl were just hype.
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2011 22:47:30 GMT -5
When the man reacts to her arrival with fear, Hawkgirl smirks and is instantly ready pursue him if he flees, but instead she waits to see what he'll do. You never know with these fearful criminals - she's had them surrender on sight for her before. Of course, she's always spoiling for a good fight and half hopes that he'll give her one, but he certainly doesn't seem like the type.
But then, calling his accomplice for backup is an excellent consolation prize - fighting off two people at once is always more interesting. That, and it saves her the trouble of having to go in after him later, which is a bonus. Though she's surprised when she sees just how quickly and neatly the young man gets down. Perhaps she'd get that good fight after all - this one seems to have had some training.
Carefully dividing her attention between both of them once he's on the ground, Hawkgirl is taken aback by his question. Both the fact that he's asking and the very sincere way it's asked. "I..." she starts, but is interrupted by Mikey, and his rant proves to be quite unusual - lying about the situation as if Jack was a little child, and yet at the same time both his words and Hawkgirl's observation seem to indicate that the teen could fight. Strange...
Of course, thoughts about the strangeness of the situation go on hold when Mikey attacks her. Hawkgirl may not have the system, but she was trained by the military of a warrior race, and she's stronger, faster, is more durable, and has much better reflexes than a human. Therefore it doesn't require that much effort for her to neatly sidestep the punch, grab his arm, and use his momentum to throw him to the ground. But even then she's mindful enough to go easy on him and, rather than landing with back-breaking force, he lands with enough force to get the wind knocked out of him. "Stay there," she tells him, though at the moment he's probably in no condition to do otherwise.
Her attention then goes to the teen, and she states, "If I was going to kill him, he'd be dead right now, and he isn't." Probably in quite a bit of pain, but not dead. "So what about you?" she asks, speaking her thoughts out loud and not really expecting an answer, "You're hurt." And that last part is said with quite a bit of concern in her voice - she's gathered that this isn't an ordinary accomplice to a crime, and he seems so... innocent.
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Post by castiel on May 30, 2011 23:11:12 GMT -5
"Hurt..." considering the dripping hand, turning it back and forth to consider every angle, Jack finally shrugged lightly. The word was familiar, and he technically knew its meaning, but on a personal level there was no flicker of concern or caution at the concept. Letting it drop at his side, ignoring the numb tingles that were starting to spread up the entire arm, the young man turned his full attention to the troubling situation at hand. When she had defeated Mikey's attack, he had feared that she had indeed killed him, and that he would be next. That fear had turned to confusion when Mikey had only groaned and rolled about, in some pain but clearly alive and not too seriously damaged; the confusion had only intensified when the woman had apparently denied the intentions that his friend had assigned to her.
Faced with two contradictory statements, Jack wasn't sure what conclusions to draw. Even then, it didn't occur to him that one side or the other might be deliberately, maliciously false, and so rather than let the matter trouble him to distraction, he decided to proceed with caution, hoping to gain a little more information.
"He is my friend," Jack said slowly, carefully, edging a bit closer to Mikey to see if he was all right. As he reached down to help the young man up, however, the thug instead rolled and scrambled a few feet away, surprisingly moving closer to Hawkgirl and further from the startled youth. "If it is not your intention to kill him, then why have you arrived here?" He paused for a moment, then brightened noticeably, gesturing back towards the shattered window. "Have you come to assist us in retrieving Mikey's lost property?"
"L-look," Mikey babbled at the winged hero, apparently deciding for Plan D, "don't let this guy's little kid routine fool you, all right? This was his idea, he convinced me to try and hit the place, said it was his dad's shop and he wanted to get back at him, I tried to talk him out of it, told him it was a bad idea to try something like that in this city, but he was real violent about it, didn't know what he would do if I tried to stop him!"
"What...?" Considering the fallen young man, Jack's eyes flickered back and forth as, for a moment, he almost seemed to wonder he had been manipulating his friend somehow. His head began to shake slowly, however, although he didn't seem to realize that he was being played; rather, he concluded that his friend must have misread into his actions somehow. It would explain why he apparently believed his life was in danger. "That isn't... isn't correct. Why do you think that I've been manipulating you? I've done all I can to try and return the property you lost." Head dropping to consider the cloth bag he still held in his hand, he extended it out towards Mikey, who flinched noticeably and backed away another half step. "There is still some that is remaining, but I am certain that once we have properly settled this misunderstanding, we can retrieve the rest of it. Perhaps you were mistaken as to her intentions, Mikey, as you seem mistaken of mine."
"S-see, guy's a complete nutcase!" Mikey proclaimed, all but ignoring Jack now as he tried to look as sincere and believable as possible. "Arkham runaway, figure, terrified me, didn't know what he would do if I didn't go along!"
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Post by Deleted on May 31, 2011 3:51:09 GMT -5
Watching the teen very carefully, Hawkgirl becomes more and more convinced of his unusualness. The way he reacts to his hand, the way he responds to her and Mikey... Definately not normal. And when even she thinks that someone's not normal, that's saying something.
She listens to the exchange between the two young men, gleaning even more from them for a moment before she decides that she's heard enough. She suddenly steps over and grabs Mikey by the arm, her grip strong enough to show him that she means business, and perhaps to emphasize the point that even though she looks no stronger than a human woman who keeps herself fit, she's actually much stronger than he is: she has him totally outclassed physically. "I've heard enough lies out of you. I'm not stupid: obviously you saw how easy it is to manipulate this boy, and thought that you'd take advantage of him. So shut up before I make you shut up," she snaps at him, giving him a full dose of hawk glare.
Then she looks up at Jack with far softer eyes and her voice is serious but not unkind as she states, "I'm a hero called Hawkgirl. I came here because catching lowlifes like Mikey here is my job. He is not your friend, those are not his things. He tricked you. And just now he tried to fool me into thinking it was all your fault. Do you believe me?" Hawkgirl has never been one to beat around the bush, and she can tell that the teen isn't stupid - just unbelievably naive for whatever reason. She suspects that by just laying all the facts out like that he'll be able to see how Mikey's story just doesn't add up as well as hers. And she doesn't want to waste time being kinder about it because she can see how hurt his hand is and the quicker she can convince him of her intentions, the quicker she can help him get that looked at.
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Post by castiel on May 31, 2011 22:32:11 GMT -5
"Y-yes," he started, then, on glancing at Mikey, "I mean, no. I mean..." His head dipped as his eyes fluttered close, a deep breath steadying him a little as he tried to consider the matter. For the first time since his birth, he studied the concept of mistruth, the idea that a presented statement might run contrary to reality. It was then he remembered a word he had been taught; 'lie.' He remembered the word, and had associated it easily enough with the idea of laying oneself at a horizontal angle on a flat surface. But it wasn't until this moment that he recalled an alternate meaning, an idea that had been all but glossed over during his education... perhaps because those who taught him didn't want him to think too deeply about the idea. This alternate meaning referred to the possibility that humans might communicate one meaning, and think another.
He felt like an idiot for having forgotten it, even after all these years.
Worse, he wondered how many other 'lies' had slipped past him since.
"Yes," he finally replied, nodding slightly as he took another step; this one was diagonal, both placing himself a bit closer to Hawkgirl, and a bit further from Mikey. "I'm... I'm sorry. I did not consider that he might be speaking untruthfully. It is... an odd concept. But I suppose it makes sense." It still didn't make much sense to him, actually, but given the lack of alternatives, he found himself in a corner. Besides, for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found the ferocious young woman a little more believable than the three-faced Mikey. For one thing, she wasn't acting so overly kind one moment, and then aggressive the next... she was consistent. Glancing over his shoulder, his guilt only increased when he belatedly caught up to what he had really done; the property didn't belong to Mikey, and he probably had never met who really owned these items. Had he not been intercepted by this hero, he would have taken the jewelery to the deceiver, and some pour soul would have awoken to find, ironically, that their property was missing.
"I should return what I removed," he said aloud, guilt turning to determination as he moved back towards the drainpipe. When he tried to grab it with his injured hand, however, the pain flared to a level even his clearly resilient self was startled by, and he gave a strangled gasp, yanking it back as if he'd been bitten. The flex didn't help him in the slightest, as the crusted cut opened up again, the pain now beginning to radiate up and down his forearm.
"I..." Glancing up at the ledge he had so easily climbed to before, he finally looked back at Hawkgirl; sweat was starting to bead his brow, and he looked hopelessly confused. "I don't... my hand..."
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Post by Deleted on May 31, 2011 23:50:11 GMT -5
Patience isn't Hawkgirl's strong suit, but she has enough of it to give the teen the time he needs to sort through the situation. Of course, the only reason why she doesn't suspect him of lying is because of what she overheard just before arriving on the scene - he's been consistent too.
"It's something you need to consider a lot, especially in Gotham - this city's full of liars," she says without a hint of anger. Instead her tone is instructive; since he seems to simply not know any better, that's the way she'll treat him unless it becomes apparent that another method would be better.
But though it's so strange to have to explain such a thing to someone, at least he seems to genuinely have a good heart. His reaction to the thought of someone being killed was a hint, but the fact that his first instinct when he fully understood the situation he was in was to return the stolen property was even more proof.
Though when she sees him reach for the drainpipe with his injured hand, her protest comes too late and instead she repeats, "You're hurt - badly, it looks like. From the glass I'm guessing?" Not waiting for an answer to that, she asks, "Is there someone who's taking care of you?" If so, Hawkgirl is inclined to think that they're doing a very poor job, but at least then he'd probably be able to tell her how to find him again - he's definitely someone that she'll be wanting to have an extended chat with, at the very least. If not, that brings up even more questions and further complicates matters, but given that he's ended up with Mikey she suspects that might be the case.
As she talks to the teen, she keeps that firm grip on Mikey's arm, just to let him know that he's not going anywhere. Otherwise he'd probably try to run off, she'd have to tackle him again, and as much fun as that would be she doesn't have the time. But she waits to decide what to do with him until she finds out just how much Jack needs her help - that could limit her options.
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Post by castiel on Jun 1, 2011 0:44:37 GMT -5
"My... my Father..." his expression became a little more guarded then, the anxiety of his Father fresh in his mind. He still wasn't certain what it was they had fled from so intently, or why, but his Father's warning to hide his identity only served to remind him of the concept of lying. Despite the fact that he had been told- consistently and emphatically- to conceal his true identity, and his reason for being here, the concept of reducing himself to the same tactics Mikey had revolted him. Particularly since this truly seemed to be the first woman he had met since his arrival that didn't appear intend to deceive or manipulate him... as far as he could tell, anyway.
But clearly he could not be completely forthcoming either; so even as he began to speak, his mind worked at editing the truth, cutting away the unnecessary and dangerous portions from his tale until he was left with something sincere, believable, but safe for everyone concerned.
Including her, if his Father's fears were grounded.
"My Father left me here," he began, eyes turning to her as he cradled his injured hand against his stomach, blood soaking through his black shirt quickly. "Two nights ago; we parked on the outskirts, and he told me that I had to leave the car. I did not want to... but he insisted upon it. We drove here from very far away... I do not know where, nor could I find it again if I wished to. He told me that I had to tend to myself for a time, and to remain safe... then he got back into the car and drove away. I have not heard from him since, but he gave me some money with which to purchase food... but he told me not to show it to anyone... so I have not been able to ask anyone where I might get this food without raising their suspicions."
Now that his mind was no longer focused on other things, he was frightened to realize that he felt strange indeed. His entire body felt flushed, and his limbs lacked the strength they had possessed before; his eyes seemed to play tricks on him, the road and surrounding buildings bending and wavering in bizzare manners. His heart began to pound as it finally sunk in that there was something seriously wrong with him, and moreover, he had no idea what he could do about it.
"Please," he finally said, quietly, his uninjured hand gently touching the cut on the other. "Help me."
At this point, even Mikey looked a mix between sympathetic and terrified.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2011 5:02:47 GMT -5
Even before the young man finishes and asks for help, Hawkgirl knows what she has to do. Turning her attention to Mikey she says, "Looks like it's your lucky day: I'm too busy to deal with you." She lifts his arm, half helping him back onto his feet and half pushing him away from her. "Shape up or pray I never see you again: your choice. And I have very good eyes," she adds with a scowl before turning her full attention to Jack. She always hates it when the bad guy has to be let go, for whatever reason. Then again, that threat is probably more motivation for Mikey to change his ways than the jail time he'd have faced for the burglary.
"I can carry you to a place where they'll treat your hand," Hawkgirl says to Jack, thinking about a free clinic she knows of not too far away. It's not the fact that it's free that's appealing, but that the sort of doctors who work in such places are the type that genuinely want to help people - probably even young men who are escorted by winged superheros and don't want to answer any questions, "And after that we can go to my place - you can have all the food you want there and rest. It's a very safe place because almost nobody knows that I live there. How does that sound?"
She reaches out a hand to him, but she'll wait for him to agree before she'll pick him up - given how nervous and careful he's been about her, she doesn't want to do anything he'd take in the wrong way. She suspects that, as innocent and naive as he is, it will take some time before he really trusts her, so she'll be careful to not do anything that would call her into question.
"Bring that bag with you; we can toss it back into the window as we leave. I doubt anyone will get in there the way you did before the owner gets back," she adds. Whoever really owns the place will be left with a big mess to clean up, but that can't be helped.
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Post by castiel on Jun 1, 2011 23:04:25 GMT -5
Mikey nearly fell over again when Hawkgirl pushed him away, taking a few stumbling steps to regain his equilibrium before whirling around, tugging and straightening his clothes while trying to look much tougher than he felt. Of course, that facade lasted about as long as it took for her to glare at him again, so rather than risk antagonizing her again, he turned his attention to the decidedly less threatening of the pair. Clearing his throat, the thug took a few steps away, obviously trying to come up with some witty parting line that would let him have even a tiny victory.
He was half successful. Almost half, anyway.
"Well, wish I could say it's been fun," Mikey told him, apparently managing to regain some of his swagger now that he wasn't within immediate grabbing distance of the hero, and obviously hoping to get in some parting shot to repair his tattered pride. "But, my man, you have been a royal pain in the ass."
"I am not connected to any nobility that I'm aware of," Jack replied, blinking; the intended insult all but made a whistling noise as it passed over his head.
Mikey's cocky grin vanished at that but, with the aforementioned hero still near, he didn't seem willing to pursue the matter any further. Instead, he just muttered something incomprehensible, hands shoving deep into his pocket as he turned and tried to saunter away casually. Of course, it wasn't long before he was scuttling, then jogging, then outright sprinting from the fierce woman and bizzare boy as fast as he could
"Yes. Thank you," Jack said quietly, taking the offered hand with his uninjured one, his eyes flickering to the woman's broad wings, then over his shoulder. It was clear that he was trying to figure out why she had them and he didn't, but considering the rapidly accumulating pile of questions that were building, he seemed willing to forego pursuing this particular matter for the moment. He was still sharp enough to comprehend how she intended to transport him, but when he eyed those wings again, it was with just a touch of unease. This time, his mental processes were given voice, his injured hand pointing at one of them, and then the other as he spoke very quietly.
"...you are certain they will support both of us."
He managed to keep it from sounding too much like a question.
((He'll toss the bag through the window as she said, so can include that in your reply if you'd like. n.n ))
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Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2011 1:31:29 GMT -5
Largely ignoring Mikey as he leaves, having dismissed him from her mind nearly the same moment she stopped talking to him, Hawkgirl still doesn't miss hearing his footsteps speeding away that indicate just how brave he is. It makes her very happy inside to know that the bad guys fear her.
But the bulk of her attention is given to the teen she's offered to help, and she has to smile as he considers her wings. She's very used to her wings attracting attention, but the way he looks at them seems to be in the same way as a young child; his attention is attracted to them not in surprise and disbelief but merely because they're unexpected. At his statement she pulls him closer, turns him just slightly, and scoops his legs up in her arms with practiced ease. "Every part of me is stronger than it looks," she states, and he'd be able to tell the truth of those words by the firmness of her arms; because of his height he's probably heavier than she is, but she doesn't seem to have any trouble at all holding him.
Spreading her wings, she looks up at the building and says, "Be ready for that window..." and he'd feel her legs tense beneath her before she gives a giant leap followed by a heavy downward thrust of her wings. But once they reach the height of the window she backwings and he'd feel the wind whipping around him in odd directions as she expertly pauses there just long enough for him to make the easy toss into the broken window, before she downthrusts again - this time strong enough to clear the building.
Further proof of her strength comes a moment later when she flaps again, this time to move forward, and the ground moves beneath them at a quick pace. "I can hardly feel your weight," she comments as she angles her way southeast, "I've carried two people at once more times than I can count, and the only reason why I don't carry more is because I only have two arms. But I'm Thanagarian, not human - such strength is normal for my kind." The care with which she holds him as she flies suggests much practice - she doesn't shift her arms around at all just to make certain that her hold on him feels as solid as possible. People just don't like it if you do anything that makes it seem remotely possible that you could drop them.
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Post by castiel on Jun 2, 2011 16:08:19 GMT -5
Jack blinked a little when she hoisted him up in her arms though, lacking any sense of chauvinism or ego, he didn't protest at being cradled like a child. Indeed, he immediately began looking at the ground with great interest, with all the appearances of a slightly impatient youth waiting for the ride to begin already; his only sign of caution was to place his uninjured hand lightly on the crook of her neck and shoulder, fingers tightening a little when she took to the air. As instructed, he released her just long enough to give the pilfered loot a strong throw, and it flew with unerring accuracy, passing through the center of the shattered window and skidding across the interior of the shop until it rested against the far wall. No doubt the owner would spend many panicked minutes running about his shop before it occured to him that he hadn't actually be robbed, but it couldn't quite be helped.
As they climbed higher and higher, pressure built up in Jack's ears, his eyes nearly crossing as he tried to figure out the bizzare sensation. His jaw began to open and close, his head shaking before he finally swallowed, twitching as his blocked up ears finally cleared with a light pop. That emergency finished, he finally thought to look down again, eyes widening to the size of saucers when he saw just how far away the ground was.
Curiosity overcame unease, however, and rather than squirm or freeze rigid with fear, Jack simply rested in her grip, surprisingly calm and more than content to watch the cityscape below. He didn't seem to have any trouble keeping himself perfectly balanced in her arms, his body almost intuitively adjusting its posture and balance to find the most comfortable position, and whenever there was even the slightest shift in her direction, even if just between the beats of her wings, he seemed to compensate without thinking. Because he certainly had more interesting things to consider than simply keeping himself from falling to the ground. He had never been this high up before- in fact, he had never been any higher than the second floor of the compound- and in many ways the view enchanted him, distracting him even from his own fears. Grey eyes flitted back and forth across the city below, seeming most attracted to the bright, moving lights that were cars, small aircraft, and other things that seemed to leap out of the darkness below. A small smile crossed his face at the sight of them all, and although he was admittedly only half-listening to the woman who was transporting him, one word stuck out in his mind.
"Tha-na-ga-rian," he mused, seeming to form each syllable in his mouth to test it; though the subtleties of slang were quite beyond him, his education in base language was quite comprehensive. Therefore, encountering a word he simply did not grasp was almost as interesting as the sight below, and his brow furrowed a little at it. Searching his memory for anything similar, he finally turned his head as much as he could, considering the woman above him.
"Is that anything like Hungarian?"
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Registered On: May 9, 2024 17:26:38 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2011 21:01:07 GMT -5
Hawkgirl has, of course, encountered all kinds of people who she's had to fly around. People who clung to her so tightly you'd think that they thought she wasn't holding on, to people who panicked and nearly struggled out of her grasp. That's why she's inclined to carry ordinary citizens up in her arms - it's the most secure way and therefore the best. Of course, she'd never carry one of her fellow superheros in such a way - but then again all of them have the good sense to not freak out while they're high off the ground. She, for one, is quite used to the view from the sky, and so her only focus is remember where that free clinic was and making sure that she's heading in the right direction. She hasn't been in Gotham for very long, and it's a large and complex city, but she also has a very good memory. " No - Thanagar is a planet. Very, very far from here. And it's a very different place; everyone has wings there. And the culture is very different too; we're all warriors," she explains. And even though she's only been flying for a couple of minutes, she slows and starts to descend as she carves a large circle. Yes, there it is! " Now, when we get down there, the doctors will probably have a lot of questions for both of us. It will probably be better if you let me answer them, or I'll nod if you should answer," she says, " I told you that this city is full of liars? Well, if you tell them exactly what happened, they'll probably think that you might be lying and that will cause a lot of trouble. I only know that you aren't lying because I was there. So I'll make sure that we only tell them enough for them to treat your hand, and not the parts that will make them suspicious. Does that sound okay?" She has reason to worry a bit. Though Hawkgirl enjoys one of the better reputations among the Justice League (stories about enthusiasm for fighting crime aside), Gotham is also home to a lot of skeptics about heroes. Probably because of the bat himself - when a hero lurks in the dark and shrouds himself in mystery you're not going to trust him like you would, for example, Superman who is more out in the open when he's working. And that distrust extends to people who seem similar including, unfortunately, herself. But then again, perhaps that's why she enjoys Gotham so much - the criminals attack her more often here than anywhere. Elsewhere they're more likely to surrender when she appears and, while that's nice, it isn't as fun. ((By the way, I'm gonna let you NPC the doctors since you're the one who knows how hurt he is. ))
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Post by castiel on Jun 2, 2011 22:34:26 GMT -5
"Hmmm?" The young man's voice was oddly quiet, ever so slightly slurred as his head nodded. "Mmhmm. Yes. It's fine."
A pair of doctors stood outside the nearly deserted clinic when Hawkgirl landed, chatting and having a smoke right up until the winged woman landed outside. For a moment, the two of them could only stare at her, wide-eyed and confused, but when Jack half-wiggled out of her grasp, only to sag to one knee as his increasingly wobbly legs refused to support his weight, they realized her choice of destination wasn't an accident. The two wasted very little time in rushing over; one, a younger man with salt-and-pepper hair and a trim enough figure, knelt in front of the softly groaning youth, taking his wrist to examine the wound. The second, gray-haired and with a decidedly dignified air, seemed more interested in the delivery girl than the patient, eyeing her uneasily as his partner tended to the injured young man.
"Well, then," the younger one said, a heavy Texan drawl twisting each word, "I reckon this young fella got in a tussel with razor wire; looks like the wire won, at that. You just hold still there, young man, let ol' Carson take a look at this here scrape."
"You speak in an unusual fashion," Jack noted, a bit dazed as he stared at the older man with open curiosity. Though initially surprised at the strange statement, Carson nonetheless seemed to take it in stride, aided perhaps by the fact that little could be stranger than the young man's chosen mode of transportation, or his company. Taking another moment to consider the youth's hand, Carson ripped a portion of his sleeve loose and tied the narrow strip of cloth around the long gash, cinching it tight enough to make the young man flinch.
"Sure do, m'boy," Carson replied to keep his newest patient's mind off the pain, chuckling as he braced his shoulder under the young man's arm, hefting him to his feet and helping him move towards the clinic's doors. "Lived in a place scorching hot as I've, you don' have th' energy to hit all th' syllables. Now, pardner, how bout we get you inside them there doors and see what's been taking a nip at you, eh?"
Jack's grin was ear to ear by now, clearly delighted by the unusual twist and tenor as he studied the doctor's moving mouth, his own shifting silently to mimic it. When the youth finally replied, he surprised the physician considerably by doing so in the same slang he had just heard. Not only because he had made the attempt at all, but that the accent that poured from his lips was pitch perfect, and virtually indestinguishable from the real thing.
"I'd much like that, pardner."
Carson's grin was to match as he all but roared with laughter, glancing over his shoulder at the hero who had brought him; "I love this guy!"
The second seemed a little less amused, however, and his attention was focused on Shayera, a brow raised; "Is there an explanation to accompany the half-gallon of blood this boy has left?"
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