Practice Makes ... ((Nightwing))

[Barbara Gordon]

“How does he do it?”

Crouched on the corner of a building, her red hair flapping in the breeze, Batgirl glowered down at the poorer end of the city as she wondered exactly how he flew from one building to the next. Certainly he couldn’t just jump; he was definitely heavier (much) than herself and she couldn’t jump that sort of feat. This man either had the world of technology at his fingertips or he was truly half bat. She was leaning towards the latter.

Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and surveyed the area. She had become a little more agile and apt to jumping between close buildings in the past few nights, but her heart would still beat ferociously when standing up to a larger gap. The wire she took with her was meant for emergencies and those that would harm her, not to be wasted trying to move around the city… though it was very tempting. Rubbing a gloved hand against the thick wire, his lips twisted and bent in her thoughts while she walked against the edge of the roof of an apartment building. If no human – assuming he isn’t half-bat – could naturally jump these distances or fly upwards, then it most certainly was technology aiding him along. Pulling out the end of the wire, her blue eyes examined it to imagine a grappling hook.

“Too big,” she muttered to herself and strapped it back in like a poor man’s belt. For being a super heroine, she wasn’t exactly well dressed, flashy, skilled or experienced. But all that came with practice, right? Batman didn’t just fly into Gotham one night and beat off crooks because he felt like it. He had to have trained and that’s exactly what she was going to do. Encouraging herself with thoughts of Batman’s first attempts, she ran along the edge of the roof towards the eastern side where an adjacent building was much closer than the northern. Pushing herself to a high speed, she held her breath as one leg catapulted her into the air and the other pushed out for the curve effect of a jump. Her left foot successfully landed followed quickly by the right, but as she stepped down from the edge, her non-nocturnal eyes missed the puddle of water and claimed her footage. With a small shriek, she plummeted to her butt with a small groan and closed her eyes.

No matter how good her imagination was, she simply couldn’t see Batman making the same and multiple amounts of mistakes she had. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up and brushed off the black uniform.

[Dick Grayson]

Dick Grayson could never understand all of the recent nocturnal masked Gothamites (himself included). The masks that had the ears and the fancy shit and the animal references... that was what he particularly didn't understand. Nightwing used guns, a billy club, and a switchblade. They were simple and just as effective on those that used similar weaponry. He didn't need to go around gliding or using clawed gloves or boomerangs or whatever the hell else. He opted to fight fire with fire and used the same force that was used on the innocent people of Gotham.

Tonight, Nightwing allowed the fire to stay contained. No one would die tonight because of him or on his watch. Not if he could help it at least. All he was searching for tonight was information on a weapons shipment that was supposed to port in the next week. Officer Grayson had guaranteed that no police would interfere. But, being somewhat unsettled by the sheer amount of fire arms to be allowed (by him) into Gotham, he employed Nightwing to handle this. What he knew he would need, however, was some form of backup that wasn’t under the city’s payroll (that would only call attention to Dick and make him a target). He would use the law as a last resort, but for now, he kept his options open. Nightwing was, thus far, the only one with the heads up. He just couldn’t bring himself to trust Gotham’s law enforcement (himself included).

Taking a running start, Nightwing launched himself to the next rooftop, executing a flip to control his momentum to cover the last foot. Landing on his hands, he did a quick handspring to the side in order to avoid a shaky landing on his feet. There was no celebration of such a maneuver. After all, Dick Grayson had been performing such fêtes since he was a boy and doing so in front of a crowd since he was about seven. He stopped waiting for applause when his parents were murdered and never awaited another’s approval of his acrobatics since. Instead of waiting for a roar of thunderous applause and executing a dramatic bow of thanks, Nightwing took a deep breath and propelled forward to vault another alleyway; this time tucking his arms in to spin himself in the air to gather more push before he grasped a flagpole and redirected himself upwards to a windowsill before scaling to a fire escape and launching himself up each level till he was at the top of one of the higher buildings in the district.

It was then that he spotted someone launching themselves between buildings much like he had been doing… though… much sloppier. A brow arched as Nightwing pulled up his hood (fastening the base of it to keep it up), and stood. He took a running start as he dove, tucking his limbs and cannonballing towards the ground below before straightening his form the way a diver would before hitting the water. He reached out and grabbed onto a railing of a fire escape, taking a moment to catch his breath and bearings before scaling up to the roof top just in time to watch this person (who he assumed to be Batman) fall on his butt with a feeling of satisfaction.

It was a woman. Dressed like freakin’ Batman. He quirked a brow beneath his mask and hood while he drew his club in case this copy-bat (har) didn’t share the same morals as the real deal. He crouched low, moving under the cloak of the shadows in order to get a closer look. He rose, remaining in the shadow of the building’s air ventilation system as his frost colored eyes inspected this fumbling caped crusader skeptically.

“What the hell are you doing?”

[Barbara Gordon]

Perhaps Batgirl wasn’t quite up to the standards the name or costume portrayed, nor would she ever admit she was ready to fight anyone in this condition. Her biggest desire at the moment was to perfect the art of jumping buildings, seeing as it wasn’t an everyday activity, and build her confidence of heights. In this respect, she had never wished to be seen let alone caught in the act of utter failure. The voice that stung the night and pierced her skin caused her breathing to stop momentarily and her heart to race at abnormal speeds. All in this moment she had wished never to have left the house this night or never conceived the costume – a wish she would later erase from her memory. The voice was instantly unclear and anonymous, leaving her options to assume it was either Batman (which she hoped not, since he sounded rather … mean) or a gangster of sorts come to finish her off (also an unappetizing option). Her natural instinct was to turn and face the source, which she did despite everything about her body telling her to run, fool, run!

Even facing the voice’s source didn’t help her as he was keenly hiding amongst the shadows. Good move. Should’ve stuck to that. Her lips pushed together and, like many instances in her past, she refused to turn tail and run. Facing anything that came her way was a matter of pride and if she were going to cut it at a nightlife super heroine, running from a mysterious voice was not the way to start. Placing her gloved hands on her hips, an eyebrow rose under the mask (though unseen) and she tilted her head upwards, feigning courage.

“Curious question coming from someone hiding in the dark,” she remarked as coolly as possible, focusing on each individual word as not to stumble or sound the fool. She swallowed quickly after what she said as if to taste the words carefully, testing their ratio of bitter to wit. She tapped the fingers on her hip and casually tried to make the figure out in the darkness to no avail.

“Besides, I don’t talk to strangers.” Ahh, regret. It was amazing how fast it could happen, because the second those words fell out of her mouth she realized how childish she had sounded. So, in an effort to make up for what would sound like a lost little girl’s response, she grinned.

[Dick Grayson]

While Nightwing was a rather cold and anger fueled individual, Dick Grayson, couldn't help but inwardly laugh at this woman's final quip. The roaring laughter that Dick had in his head only escaped passed the barrier of his mouth in a scoff as he rose a bit to his feet where he was crouched; the light from the moon as well as the electricity of Gotham kissing just the outline of his darkly clad clothes. He brought his billy club to rest against his shoulder, still unsure whether or not to dispose of his weapon. If she were to attack, he had no doubt that he could possibly remedy the situation with a well placed bullet; but curiosity was unfortunately winning over.

"You're new at this," he stated more than asked in a cold tone.

"Word of advice," came the dark tone as Nightwing chanced stepping out into the light fully. His hood stayed drawn up, obscuring his face almost entirely aside from the peek of mask over his eyes. His blue eyes inspected her more closely, appraising just how well she would be able to hold up against him (in his moment of arrogance, things didn't look too well for her). "Try to cut back on the quips unless you're actually witty."

He hooked his billy club into its holster before he crossed his arms over his chest. "So, I'm gonna ask again," he stated plainly, "what are you doing?"

[Barbara Gordon]

No, it was no secret she was knew to this and she wouldn’t have lied if he asked. It was unfortunate he could tell already, but such was her inexperience and she took it in stride. What Batgirl could not take well was his thrown comment about wit, which caused her light eyebrows to raise in a threatened manner. It had so bothered her that she forgot to take in his physic and while it was already noted he was not Batman, she didn’t think to consider this was another night stalker possibly as experienced as him. As soon as her pride had been wounded, the walls began to build and her back began to straighten up. She wasn’t about to let this guy scare her away or tear her down, not with his cold tongue or by waving around his gun. Scared men used guns, real fighters did without. Her eyes watched his motions carefully while she gave a brief nod to his question, watching the gun click into its holster.

Comfortable enough around him that he wasn’t going to out right shoot her, she turned her back on him and jumped up onto the edge. Though it was an intent to one day use her above average height, she didn’t feel it necessary to greet the man nose to nose – plus, she had a feeling intimidation wouldn’t work on this one (if anything, it was working on her). She took in Gotham’s night view before turning to him, putting her hands on her hips once more and tapping her toe on the ground.

“What I do is my own business,” she stated plainly, and though she would never admit this, she was indeed steering clear of the witty comments. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe she could be witty – because she could – but that she didn’t feel like hearing his laughter again. It hadn’t been pleasant the first time. “If I answered to others, I certainly wouldn’t be jumping on rooftops. However,” she waved her hands in the air like a sign of surrender, looking down at her feet as she walked along the edge and dipped a toe into the floors of nothingness below her. “It might be worth knowing a little more about you: such as, why a guy like you is stalking women at night with a gun.”

Taking his own lead, she spun on her heel to face him and leaned down, squatting on the corner of the building to put her chin in her hand. Although her face remained entirely calm, let it be known her heart was racing with the fear of falling off the building. One large gust of wind and she felt she would be a goner. Ignoring the images of her body falling uncontrollably, Batgirl grinned in the dark man’s direction.

“You first.”

[Dick Grayson]

"Oh I wasn't intentionally stalking you or any woman by any means," Nightwing corrected with a shrug. "Nor would I fire if you didn't deserve it," the plain statement retracted the scoff that had been in his tone earlier. Instead it remained somewhat hushed and flat; displaying no signs of the inflections Dick Grayson would have. He shrugged his leather cloaked shoulders where he stood. He eyed her warily while his hand twitched to take his club back in hand again, or at least one of his guns. If she was anything like the Male original, then Nightwing was certain this woman had to have some sort of trick up her sleeve.

"It's my own business," he said saltily, tossing the woman's words back at her as if this were a game of catch. "But I was out to get information." His flat statement was accompanied by a few sturdy steps forward; lacking the limp Dick Grayson wore during the daylight hours. His arms stayed crossed over his chest as he made no move to relinquish his hood or remove his mask. This was no vigilante slumber party where Nightwing would lower his hood and toss away his mask while they braided one another's hair and gabbed about the hottest criminal. "You distracted me."

He walked over to the same ledge, hoisting himself up one leg after the next. "If you're going to go across a building like how you were, you need to know your center of gravity better," he stated; opting to give this Batman counterpart a lesson in acrobatics. "When you take a running start like that, you're focusing on the building you're jumping from and not the one you're jumping to," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Try not to just land and stop, you're momentum will throw your balance."

He looked down before looking over at the newby; smirking beneath his hood. "Unless you were trying to fall on your butt. Then you did a great job."

[Barbara Gordon]

As difficult as it was keeping up with this guy, Batgirl gave a tawdry laugh to his flat line refusal of stalking. She was very much new to this scene and though practicing jumping would eventually lead to experience, she had to quicker remind herself that Barbara Gordon could not shine through the mask. This individual here was particularly good at it, showing little to no emotion or personality that would give away what face was just underneath that leather. The laugh, as the unfortunate realization struck her, was very indicative of the red headed daughter of the commissioner. Swallowing to bite back her words, she stared at the ground for a moment and focused on becoming someone else entirely. She wasn’t Barbara wearing a mask or jumping buildings, she was Batgirl (unfortunately the name stuck with her, and Batwoman didn’t quite have the ring to it anymore). With that knowledge, she stood up as the man dictated how to jump and her annoyance with his arrogance fled the scene. Barbara was stubborn, Barbara would fight him, but Batgirl wouldn’t. As long as he hadn’t shot her or aimed the gun with mal intent, he was not an enemy.

“Hmm,” she hummed to his jab at her fall, ignoring it as best as possible as she soaked in the information he gave. Turning half way, she faced the building across from their meeting point and squinted at it, looking somewhat like a glare. The building direction across from her was, at least in her inexperienced opinion, too far away to even attempt. She wasn’t going to break a leg or suffer death by trying to prove herself to his nameless figure, but she would risk further humiliation to make him see she wasn’t hopeless. Without a word, she turned to her side and began running on the ledge itself towards the other building near the rooftop. Trying her best to ignore how close to she tangoed with death at her side, she glimpsed her eyes down to make sure no water was there to sweep her off her feet.

‘Center of gravity,’ she repeated to herself a few times, the concept not at all new to her training in the martial arts. It was a simple idea that had been burned into her as a child and simply hadn’t applied it to roof jumping (who would?). As she neared the edge she destroyed fear through constant thought of perfection and as her thighs tensed to push her up into the air, her arms flew upward naturally. The left leg lagged behind while the strong right one flew out to catch the ledge first and the left kept moving, keeping the momentum as instructed. She ran a few extra feet with a large smile on her face, betraying her attempted rock hard persona due to the ecstatic feeling of success. She had succeeded before but this was without thinking of the possibility of failing, without the image of her plummeting to her death. She had taken a much further leap than just over a building and realized she should celebrate later; the smile disappeared as she spun around to face the distant figure.

“Like that?” she shouted to him confidently but without arrogance; there was no room to be conceited yet.

[Dick Grayson]

Nightwing smirked as he watched the woman successfully vault the space between the two buildings. While thinking ‘Not Bad’ he didn’t celebrate with a real smile or a notion of encouragement. Actually, he felt the urge to scold himself for giving a tip to someone who could be a potential threat later on. He kept his smirk in place so as not to indicate his self-doubts.

From where he stood on the edge, he looked over to where Batgirl had launched herself. He walked steadily to a decent starting point and took a running start. He opted, instead of a simple jump, to show off and took a strong running start. He went forward into a handspring, propelling him off using the power in his arms and his momentum. He sailed across the gap while his arms tucked into his form as he twisted in the air. His hands again were instrumental as they managed to catch and transfer his weight when he found pavement and propelled into another handspring to land in a crouched position, favoring his right a bit more due to an injury he’d suffered that spawned the hooded character.

His stormy pale eyes landed on Batgirl. His expression remained neutral. “Better,” he granter her; not about to give her the satisfaction of being impressed that she succeeded on her first attempt. He rose to his feet and approached; stopping a few feet away to keep a safe distance. “So what are you? Batbroad or something?”

[Barbara Gordon]

There was little doubt in her mind that the minute she had done what did she, this masked stranger was going to show her up. She, in fact, waited for it after she called out by crossing her arms and letting her weight shift on a heeled foot. Under the mask was a hidden red eyebrow that lifted as he began and her bright blue eyes followed his every perfect movement like a judge at the Olympics – or more like a spectator, since Batgirl was simply no authority to judge. It was note worthy, however, that this man was particularly good at the sport of twisting in the air like the gymnasts she had long loathed on the television. It seems his strength came from either a lifetime of training, or perfected copycat like abilities. When he landed and spoke, she realized both eyebrows were high on her forehead due to being impressed and thanked herself for hiding them under the mask, for she surely looked emotionless otherwise. She grinned slightly and turned her head, as if uninterested.

“Showoff,” she started loud enough for him to hear, but low so it would appear she was mumbling to herself. Soaking in Gotham’s beautiful night skyline, she grimaced at his comment but kept her face in profile view. “You can call me that only if I can call you ‘Super Fantastic Gymnast Boy’.”

No, it wasn’t entirely clever and she didn’t mean it to be. Perhaps wit was left to Barbara who was much more experienced in her own situations than Batgirl was. But the point was clear enough. Lifting her hand to tap on her chin, she shifted the day sky eyes to look at the male once more and secretly wondered why he was still hanging around. Not that she was complaining! Company was nice for a change, though he was particularly … to put it nicely, crude.

“You stand so far,” she observed suddenly while taking a step forward and lifted her arms. She looked down at her body that was hugged tightly by the fabric and let the corners of her lips sink on her face in a somewhat frown. Her head still tilted down, she flashed her eyes back up at him while stepping forward again. If Batgirl was going to be every inch of gutsy, warrior-like, crime fighting woman of the night than she was going to have to be a little more – ironically – ballsy. “Do you really think I have some gun hidden here? If it makes you uncomfortable ….” She put her hands on her hips, giving a clapping noise like she was patting herself down.

[Dick Grayson]

Nightwing snickered at her as his lips lifted into a smirk despite himself; tempted to remind her about using wit sparingly. “You can if you want,” he supplied with a shrug from his perch. “Nightwing works well enough. Shorter to say.” There. He was somewhat nice and introduced himself. He was doing that a lot lately and was finding his interest snagged from his agendas more than usual. First Batman, then Officer White, now her. Hell, at this rate he may as well hold a goddamn press conference and explain his motives to literally kill the mob and then himself when he was through.

He practically took a step back as she started her approach out of reflex. Obviously this was turning into some sort of game that repulsed Nightwing and yet intrigued Dick Grayson. Again, despite himself, he didn’t move. He kept his eyes on her; still waiting for that sudden movement that meant danger. It was, on some level, a death wish; but it would only be that if this woman had some sort of sinister agenda in taking him out. If that was the case, he hoped her fighting was somewhat better than her acrobatics.

Beneath his mask, his brow shot up. “Honestly? No clue what to expect. Everyone goes around in some sort of costume, even the bad-guys,” he stated with more honesty than Nightwing or Dick Grayson ever intended. But hey, this dame was new to this and perhaps he should warn her. He wasn’t exactly one of the ‘good guys’. He was just a bad guy that took out other bad guys that happened to just stray into those moments where he did something that resembled good. If that made any sense. Lord only knew it made absolutely none to Nightwing or the man behind the mask.