batmanschmatman | 087 [spam/voice]

Entry tags:

087 [spam/voice]

[Open Spam]

Dick did not do vacations. Or, more accurately, this kind of felt like a vacation in that he got to go out and stretch his legs and do some fun stuff that the Barge didn't let him do - namely, beat the crap out of criminals without having to worry about hitting the ceiling or destroying the Barge - and so while he was technically still doing his job, he was having fun with it. Of course, doing this without any gear wasn't the smartest plan in the world, which was why he was now - at a relatively late hour, not really by Vegas standards, but late enough that generally people would be thinking about going to bed - trying to find bandages and something to clean the gash on his forearm.

And yes, he did feel a little ridiculous wandering around the most convenient casino with some blood on his arm, but it really wasn't a big deal. He just needed a first aid room or something to stop the bleeding, and if he happened to run into the guy he was still sort of tailing, well. Two birds, one stone, you know the drill.

... Or, you know, he could get totally sidetracked, trip the guy, which sent him flying into an oddly placed potted plant before being hauled away by security, and thus the vigilante was still be wandering around looking for something that would do a better job stopping the bleeding than a paper napkin.

[Private to Rorschach]

So, what have you been up to?

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's not gonna take care of it."

Tim was not at all dressed right for the casino. The bouncers had been watching him for the better part of the ten minutes he'd been in here, and he had to say, he was tempted to keep his good up just to put them on edge even more. But maybe that was petty.

He was actually surprised when he spotted Dick, but less surprised to see the blood and security's mess. "Pretty sure they have first aid here." Don't mind how gross he looks, he's been busy.

Dick turned and grinned when he saw who it was, not commenting on the mess at all because really. Like he was in any place to judge at all, considering he was bleeding and sweaty and probably had a bunch of bruises.

Really, if the Admiral wanted them to fit in, he probably should have let them at least pack accordingly. Having gear on hand would make it a lot easier to not look like you'd been mugged in an alley.

"You want to lead the way? I got a little sidetracked." He nodded back towards the mess security was dealing with. "How are you?"

"Fantastic," Tim said, and he actually meant it. He reached out for Dick's arm, pulling away the cocktail napkin enough to get a look at the cut. It didn't look too serious, so he let Dick's arm go, heading for the front of the casino.

"I say we find the prettiest black jack dealer and ask her."

Dick let him inspect it without complaint - he already knew it wasn't anything serious, it was just bleeding a fair amount and that was kind of annoying - putting the napkin back over it and giving it a sort of weird look when he realized yeah, this was not doing the job at all.

"I'm game. Got anyone in mind?"

[Richard, he's kind of in the middle of something. Your communication could really have come at a more convenient time. The sound of weight hitting something particularly solid comes over the comm, as well as a series of angry and sputtering swears, followed by a strangled grunt and a wet crunch. And then just whimpering, which fades as the comm retreats from the source.

Rorschach's voice follows; he's not exactly out of breath, but he does sound like he's been expending some serious energy. Nothing to see here, Grayson. Really; he doesn't even bother with attempted pleasantries this time.]

Keeping busy.

[Whelp, those are familiar sounds. At least it sounds like you left the guy alive.

On Dick's end, there's just some distant sounds of traffic and maybe some wind. He might be hanging out on a roof. Don't ask how he got up there.]

Would you mind some back up?

[It's none of Rorschach's business, why would he ask?

There's the sound of papers rustling and another muffled "thud" followed by a weak grunt. There might have been a crack underneath it, he wasn't really paying attention.]

Handling it. Only removing weak links, doesn't require assistance.

[Translation: he won't argue if Dick shows up, but he also won't ask him to if he doesn't and he ends up needing him later.]

Well, I've got time. And obviously we're both familiar with working on a team.

[Also he can actually see what you're up to if they're together.]

[That silence? Yeah, Ror objects to your logic; he's been out of practice at it for YEARS and his latest attempt ended terribly. Teams are universally Bad Ideas as far as he's concerned.]

Easier to monitor, too.

[Because that's clearly a preferable interpretation.]

[MY INTENTIONS ARE PURE. :C]

Maybe I just want some bonding time.

[And chatting over the network is fun and all, but doing it while fighting people with guns and knives against whatever you've managed to get your hands on since waking up in port =/= a good idea.]

[RORSCHACH DOESN'T BELIEVE YOU, GRAYSON. ...Not that this is either new or surprising.

Another bout of silence as he considers all the options, and Dick can probably hear footsteps as he continues down the sidewalk.]

Will be on corner of Lewis and...South Fourth soon. Will wait.

[Because it's just easier to humor him than trying to argue.

He hasn't accumulated too many dangerous things; a can of mace, a lighter, and a corkscrew, and he hasn't even used any of them yet.]

I'll be there in a few.

[And the connection clicks off.

A couple minutes later, Dick was scrambling down the side of a building and jogging over to Rorschach, vaguely pleased that even with his item telling him exactly where his inmate was, Rorschach was indeed waiting where he said he would be. Dick looks the tiniest bit worse for wear, with a white bandage covering a cut on his forearm and a couple minor scrapes and bruises from various little accidents, but at the same time a lot more relaxed and genuinely happy than he has been for a while.

... So basically yes, vigilantism is not a healthy lifestyle to pursue.]

Hey. How's the criminal underbelly been treating you?

Edited 2012-01-26 21:29 (UTC)

[The Rorschach that greets him also shows the signs of a long night; a split lip and knuckles torn open from a handful of heated altercations, a slight limp when he closes some of the distance that he makes an effort to conceal, but where Dick seems more at ease for his battle wounds, Rorschach is no less stiff and on-guard. It's less a pastime or side job and more a lifestyle, after all, even with his lack of costume he's still on the clock.]

Richard. [A curt nod of acknowledgment.] As expected. Still learning.

[It's nothing serious, and that's really the important thing as far as Dick's concerned, but he was still eying the limp a little as Rorschach approached. That wasn't really something to mess around with if you were going to keep going for the rest of the night, because a slight strain could turn into serious ligament damage or help cause a break if you weren't careful.

Still. Hypocrite if he points it out, and if it gets serious, well. They could deal with that when it happened. He knows Rorschach knows what he's doing, and can guess he's not going to like the idea of going to the hospital unless it's absolutely necessary.]

Run into anyone interesting?

[Unfortunately even if it proves necessary he'll still fight it the whole way; stubborn bastard. At the moment he's operating off the belief that it'll go away if he ignores it enough, and thus far it seems to be working well enough.]

Only the usual.

[A beat, then, deadpan:]

Mugging by Elvis impersonator. Look like you've been busy too.

[There might be a tiny hint of approval in there somewhere; it's one thing hearing that he's a fellow mask, it's another thing entirely to have the proof to back it up, even if it's only circumstantial.]

Tim turned, looking around the casino - no he totally is not on his toes, shut up - before pointing toward a table, smiling.

"Her. Do you still have a thing for redheads?" Tease tease tease. "We should probably open with your bleeding wound ,since we look kind of gross."

Did he still have a thing for redheads. Was the sky blue?

Dick laughed, giving Tim an amused look. "'Gross'? We look like we've been mugged." Really, they were probably lucky no one was asking too many questions or paying them that much attention. Getting banned from a casino in some universe's Vegas just seemed ridiculous. "Should we be going for overdramatic and played up, or suave and no big deal, I'm just dripping blood all over your nice marble floor?"

[Dick laughed - an Elvis impersonator? Really? - and nodded.]

It's been a while since our last normal city port, I figure I might as well take advantage of it while I can. Have you run into any cops?

[He'd been avoiding them, largely because this world didn't have the same superhero culture he was used to, and as he was just a guy in a t-shirt and jeans, beating the crap out of would be muggers and rapists, he figured it would probably be best to keep out of their hair. Even if he didn't have an identity to protect here.]

Just one. Towards beginning. Didn't see me.

[Because he was doing his hobo impression again; useful thing, that.]

You?

Only in passing, I've been kind of trying to keep out of their way. I don't know how they'll react to vigilantes here and I'm sort of missing anything that would keep me remotely resistant to bullets or tasers, so.

[Seriously, Admiral, dropping them off in port in varying stages of being undressed was all kinds of uncool.]

[A brief twitch that's close enough to a shrug.]

Better this way. No false confidence, only action and method. No concrete restrictions on what is and isn't allowable.

[Can they get a move on? It's a big city. Rorschach starts heading off down the sidewalk, assuming Grayson will follow if he's going to and won't if he's not.]

"Oh definitely suave," Tim said with a knowing nod. "Whenever I go for overdramatic, I get doted on like I'm twelve." He's had his growth spurt, okay, he is not as short as he seems.

"You're not twelve? Since when?" And he will be taking this opportunity to ruffle your hair with his good arm, just because he's still got two inches on you and he's going to be taking advantage of that. "Let's go introduce ourselves."

[Dick does follow him, but if you were expecting him to stop chatting, you had another thing coming, Rorschach.]

And no locals to wonder who we are and why we're moving in on their turf for a while.

[...You talk too much, Richard. Really. You're going to scare away all the lawbreakers. :| ]

Big city, won't think too much on it anyway. All kinds; probably have a mask population of their own.

[...All big cities have costumed heroes, right? Probably.]

"You're secretly evil, aren't you?" Tim hates your two inches. He waves Dick off, though, because your hand looks kinda grimy there bro. "Lead the way."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

087 [spam/voice]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[Private -- Audio] oh dear, I think he might actually be having FUN.

[Private -- Audio] that's sort of what Dick is afraid of :U

[Private -- Audio] siiigh Ror, what is your life.

[Private -- Audio] HUSH VIGILANTISM IS AWESOME >.>

[Private -- Audio] WELL YES. but seldom healthy. :/

[Private -- Audio] No arguments there. :C

[Private -- Audio]

[Private -- Audio ---> TO SPAM]

[SPAM]

[SPAM]

[SPAM]

no subject

no subject

[SPAM]

[SPAM]

[SPAM]

[SPAM]

no subject

no subject

[SPAM]

[SPAM]

no subject