[OPEN] traffic's a zoo

[earlybird]

WHO: DAMIAN WAYNE and anyone interested
WHERE: Maurtia Falls, out-and-about
WHEN: Too early into the new year for this
WHAT: Meeting opportunities for CR around the city
WARNINGS: Aggressively pretentious pre-teens

[ Damian Wayne does not exit the Cape Canaveral facility so much as he is, with great difficulty, scruffed and forcibly expelled by security, with a clean-up crew called in his wake.

The secondary trip over to Maurtia Falls is strained, with his escort taking desperate care to look at everywhere but his face. The introduction to his assigned housing is as brief as the information packet he was given, and when she removes the restraints it's with a quick, hasty step back, a fast farewell, and a reminder to attend the Swear-In Ceremony in a week's time.

School. An internship. Housing. His gear, folded neatly away into the duffel bag at his side. Even something of the powers he briefly had upon resurrection. They've given him everything.

Everything but supervision, that is. ]

---

Congratulations, residents of Maurtia Falls, as if things aren't generally bad enough in a city this rough, Damian Wayne has blown in, and he wastes no time in getting to work.

The following are a few prompts, but even if you wanna talk plotting for something else please feel free to hit me up!

+ GOVERNMENT HOUSING

Funny, were you assigned a new flatmate? There's this kid wandering around. Well, wandering isn't the right word for it -- too purposeful for that. No telling what he's actually up to, though; rifling through papers, opening closets, flipping channels, and looking down his nose at anyone who so much as glances at him. Strange.

+ URBAN FARM AND HATCHERY

A strict vegetarian born from a nurtured appreciation for animals and a growing menagerie at home, the idea of visiting his determined place of 'employment' is appealing for more than just continuing his investigation into the imPort conspiracy. However, he's seen what happens to the chicks, and the visit turns from intel-gathering into a jailbreak: the animals mysteriously freed from their shackles to take to the streets beyond the farm, and Damian quickly slipping away during the distraction.

+ WHAT WAS SOMEONE'S HOVER CAR. ONCE.

Enemy technology must be investigated, understood, and utilized. Damian is also partial to flight and making things fly, as seen by his engineering designs -- the paracapes, the flying Batmobile, the new Robin exo-suit under development. It stands to reason that, when presented with a world of hover cars as common vehicles, he'd take the time to check the specs, given the opportunity of an unsafe parking location. Jacking up cars is tradition at this point.

+ OLD-OLD-OLD-SCHOOL ARCADE

They do not have Swordwalkers, or Cheese Viking. But the arcade is out of the way, nearly abandoned in favor of places with brighter and more cutting-edge games, and Damian thinks best with a distraction at hand. Plus, his father is strict about video games, and if Damian's going to be granted independence, he's going to take advantage of it properly and indulge. Grayson would approve.

+ ROBIN, AT NIGHT

Crime never sleeps, and neither does Robin, apparently. With the cover of nightfall he can accomplish a lot more; able to roam the city more freely and slip into buildings he couldn't visit during the day. Facilities, companies, anything that looks promising or that he already has a lead listing, connected in someway to the imPorts he managed to glean some information about earlier during his investigations. There's a trail to follow somewhere.

Comments

old mcwayne had a farm

[oceanthief]

The animals that Lapis is fondest of all reside in Nonah, with a few Heropan outliers depending on how vividly she remembers the disaster that was her last (and first) attempt at pet-sitting. Logic demands that there must also be animals in the other imPort cities, but it's not something that ever crosses her mind.

Today's visit to Maurtia Falls seems to have decided to make changing that the headliner on its agenda.

Inside the farm may only be chaos at present, but outside its borders lies nothing but the world's most orderly escape to freedom. A fire hydrant forcefully expels its cap, seemingly of its own volition, before the water gushes out to act as a disembodied guide for the newly liberated animals.

Any attempt by one of them to wander into the busy streets is met with a small but unyielding wall of water; it slithers and winds its way around the, gently shepherding them towards the spot on the sidewalk where Lapis has decided to sit herself down. Little aqueous pens have sprung up around her in order to keep everyone safe and sound while she decides what (if anything) she wants to do with the situation.

In the meantime, her entire lap is filled to the brim with chicks. A rare genuine smile is plastered across her face as she gathers up a large number of them in her arms. The fact that she's turned this incident into even more of a spectacle seems to have completely escaped her notice.

e-i-e-i-/no he will not sing this insipid song/

[earlybird]

Releasing the animals proves to be an effective distraction -- Damian is free to break in and out of the main office with little difficulty, capturing their file information to inspect later. What's the arrangement between this farm and the military establishment? Who are their spies?

(He suspects the woman, 'Edith.' Unassuming and quiet. Face weathered with laugh-lines. Kind. She'd walked him through the facilities, and they'd discussed the latest in agricultural techniques: vertical systems with automated drip, latticework and stepped design increasing production per square foot exponentially. And, briefly, when her hand had rested against his back, directing him with little encouragement needed towards the animals, it had been warm.

An obvious informant.)

Escaping the premises unnoticed is easy. He expects gridlock in the streets, but his steps slow, measured, at what he finds instead: lines and walls of twining, twisting water, floating placidly and herding the freed animals along. And a girl, blue from skin to hair, sitting cross-legged in the sidewalk, covered in chicks from the hatchery. His attention jerks when stray chick bumps into the side of his boot, scrabbling around the edge of it with a racket of cheeps, and it's reflex to scoop it up, hand cupped to keep it warm.

Caution and sense says a quick detour around her would be prudent.

The chick shivers in his palm.

-Tt.-

---

Damian's shadow falls over Lapis; a boy dressed in black winter clothes that match his solemn demeanor well. He looks critically at the bundle of chicks and then hands off his own to the top of the pile.

"This one was missed."

[oceanthief]

The shadow prompts an instinctive reaction, albeit one easily missed; just for a moment her shoulders tense up as if in anticipation of violent conflict. The negligible span of time she's spent in this world isn't nearly long enough to erase the memory of Jasper's grip.

This time she's fortunate - it's only a human. The tension drains from her body, ebbing even more rapidly when she spies the lonesome little chick in his hand. The animal seems to have caught her attention more reliably than Damian, and it's several moments before the thought crosses her mind that maybe she's obligated to say something to him.

"Oh," she supplies helpfully. Common courtesy would dictate that a thanks was in order here, but Lapis' tutelage in the arcane art of human etiquette remains woefully inadequate. She simply doesn't see anything that requires gratitude in this situation, just a businesslike correction of mistakes.

Her hands are full (obviously) but the new addition needs a bit of adjusting to settle comfortably into the lap pile. A small sphere of water breaks itself off from one of the makeshift pens and floats over, forming a hand of its own as it approaches. A few pokes and nudges later sees everything in order, and it retreats once more into the watery fence.

"They're harder to keep track of when they're this size."

The chicks that she'd been introduced to by Josuke had been both further along with their development and obnoxiously multicolored - even during the harried chaos of watching all his animals, they'd been easier to hang onto than these little ones. She's glad, however, that even at this size they seem just as fond of snuggling.

[earlybird]

Human etiquette escapes them both. Damian sees no problem in openly examining her, her features, the way the water forms a hand to rearrange the chicks without much more than a thought.

"They seem to be, yes." He amends, after a pause, over the incessant cheeping: "Loud, however. I guess that helps."

Easy to overlook a chick that's somehow wandered away from the clutch, except for the noise. There's no missing a peep that persistent.

His own hands stuff themselves into his coat pockets, shoulders straight, and his expression squints -- a mix of curiosity and casual disdain, all princely arrogance. It's an expression he wears often, and which everyone is subjected to; the look of someone who sees people as other.

"What are you?"

Blunt as hell, straight to the point. No value in mincing words, as far as he's concerned, or even exchanging niceties like names and introductions.

+ BEETLE, AT NIGHT

[deadkord]

[ Ted really, really doesn't like Maurtia Falls. Nothing good ever happens to him there. But he can't deny that, if he really wants to get back into the superhero game, there's no better city to stop crime in. Or at least if not better, perhaps none easier.

In fact, it only takes him about ten minutes after parking the Bug on a warehouse rooftop before he's found a couple of masked idiots with crowbars attempting to break into a couple of cars in a narrow alleyway-slash-parking lot. If a little bird happens to be perched on a nearby rooftop, he'll see the Blue Beetle approaching them, his hands out to make himself appear nonthreatening. ]

Heya, fellas. Someone call Triple-A?

[ The masked idiots do not seem impressed, and are, in fact, advancing on this weird asshole, crowbars raised. ]

LET'S GET DANGEROUS

[earlybird]

[ The more he finds, the more questions arise. It's an entire field of data to sift through -- about the imPort program, about the world at large. History. Technology. Politics and tensions. All of it set to the background of voices on the device he has yet to touch beyond beyond disabling its tracking and identification software.

The rooftop access is unmonitored in this area, and Robin moves from one building to the next with purpose. Unlike Nightwing, he's methodical in his movements, prone to very few flips or twists mid-air, but even he can't help but experiment with his regained power: focus brings a sharp boost to his jumps, and his landings are cushioned, briefly weightless.

It's not the effortless flight he was capable of before, thanks to the Chaos Shard, but it's something.

Feet meet concrete again, and the situation down below catches his attention. He pauses at the lip of the building, half-tempted to just watch how this plays out.

Still, evening out the odds could always be called for, and he's restless and frustrated. The carjacker at the back of the pack hits the floor like a stone, not expecting the sudden dive-bomb of Robin dropping in on him. The boy perches on the man's back, boots planted, utterly unconcerned about the two shell-shocked criminals left standing to either side. ]

-Tt.- What kind of line was that?

[ Not that he's throwing stones at glass houses, of course not. ]

[deadkord]

[ While Damian leaps down from the rooftop to land on the guy's back, Ted's ducking a crowbar swing and bringing his fist up into the other carjacker's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him before leg sweeping and dropping him to the ground.

He looks up at Damian's sass, and takes a second to eye him up. This definitely isn't the much-smaller-than-he-should-be Dick Grayson, but Ted wasn't aware there were any other baby birds around these parts. ]

Well hey, I didn't know they still made Robins this small! Thanks for the assist, kiddo.

( robin )

[snoobs]

It's particularly dark in this corner of the city, but one might catch a glimpse of an Indian woman walking alone, seemingly unaware of a burly man stalking her from a distance. She seems too preoccupied in her nails, her jewelry on her hands, heels clacking loudly against the cold, snowy streets while the man closes the distance between them with surprising agility. He's reaching into his coat for some sort of weapon and for a moment, it really appears as if the woman is going to get shot, stabbed or bludgeoned without ever noticing.

But she does react, slowly turning around to face her assailant.

Or would be. A second after they've faced each other proper does the man take out his knife, his aggressive stance dissipated completely and expression almost dull, and points the knife at his own neck.

[earlybird]

This isn't his world, and this isn't his city. None of these people are his problem -- there's plenty of heroes to go around, even in a place like this. He has his own concerns to prioritize.

Except he's Robin, and Robin can't ignore this.

Damian is sprinting across the rooftop to catch up, hitting the edge and already pulling out his grapple gun for a clean swing straight down into the would-be predator's back, when mid-air the situation changes in a second.

The knife is at the man's own throat, and the woman is unperturbed. Reversed.

Damian barely has time to hit the ground next to them before he's springing up, reflexes taking over to knock the knife out of the man's hand with a twist and a kick, sending the weapon clattering to the sidewalk. And then, with barely a glance at the dull, slack-jawed puppet, he jerks his attention over to her, suspicious, accusing--

"What did you do?"

[snoobs]

Hemali doesn't sense Damian's presence until the knife has been knocked aside and there's a —

Wait, is that a child?

She's actually utterly surprised by the boy and not so much his accusation. His costume, as ridiculously vibrant and dramatic as it is, looks quite professional; this is no child's Halloween costume he's put on, this is some important garment. She looks him over with ridicule before she begins to snicker.

"What are you supposed to be?"

The man doesn't remain still, but his movement isn't urgent. He simply looks toward the knife and makes another attempt to pick it up.

government housing;

[ursawhiner]

[So Dipper isn't around this house much. Doesn't mean he's okay with some random kid just going through his stuff. There could be important information in there! Confidential state secrets! Terrible poetry! Maybe he was saving that sandwich!!

It does kind of give him a pang when he sees whoever this is sitting in Grunkle Stan's old chair. Dipper fumbles the huge sousaphone case onto the ground so he can give a proper glare.]

Hey! You can't just walk in here and start messing around with people's stuff!

there he is that special cursed boy

[earlybird]

[ Those confidential state secrets are spread out on Damian's lap, embarrassing poetry and all. He sits cross-legged, perfectly at ease as if he has every right, and takes a purposeful bite out of a sandwich that definitely doesn't belong to him.

He levels a scornful look, first at the sousaphone and then at Dipper, and leans back in the chair in outright challenge. ]

I can. I did. And?

[ Bring it, fellow child. Double-dog-dares you. ]

[ursawhiner]

[The poetry is terrible. Lots of trying to rhyme with orange. Mentions of soccer and dogs. A spear?? What the heck is a Persona?

That sandwich is probably Junpei's, but Dipper flicks a glance at it and figures it's not important right now. It probably has the weird mayo, anyways. Dipper squares his shoulders and tries to look appropriately intimidating.]

It's just-- it's really rude! When you live with other people, you have to be considerate!

[Nailed it.]

Robin, meet Batman (again)

[aboveand]

[After their... interesting first meeting, Terry would be lying if he isn't at least slightly reluctant to return for a round two against the newest boy wonder. Still, he'd agreed to this, and if he was going to act like that around everyone else, well... Terry didn't want to be the first of many to disappear on the kid.

(Besides, if he didn't show up something told him that Robin'd just track him down to punch him and take his suit.)

He drops the suit's camouflage as he lands on the agreed upon roof (what was it with Waynes and roofs? Sure, he enjoys a good rooftop every now and then, but he actually liked the ground.) and takes a few steps into the moonlight.]

Glad to see you're punctual, twip.

[It's not like the kid would be hard to miss, not with that getup in the middle of a wide open black roof. Why did the Robins all wear such bright colors? He never got that.]

here he is, the ur new boss-robin

[earlybird]

'Punctuality is the politeness of kings.'

[ And, evidently, the only kind of politeness that this Robin pays any attention to. Damian has been waiting, standing with arms-crossed and hood down, despite the chill of the winter air. It's left his ears, cheeks, and nose bitten red, but he's long-since grown accustomed to the weather on the East Coast despite his own tropical upbringing. ]

Didn't think you'd show up.

[ He smirks back, already jabbing, but there's approval buried somewhere in his tone. Even if the thought of tracking Terry down and taking Batman from him was certainly appealing, to have otherwise is something of a pleasant surprise. ]

don't get ahead of yourself shortie

[aboveand]

[If that's a quote, it goes right over Terry's head because he's never heard it before.]

Aren't you a little short for a king?

[To paraphrase a super old movie. See, he can quote things too, so there! :P]

I've always wanted to see a Robin in action.

+......ANOTHER BEETLE sorry damian, you've been inundate | ROBIN @ NIGHT

[khajidont]

Maurtia Falls is, by far, the imPort city that's closest to Gotham. Crime runs rampant, the cops are paid off, and the people are distrustful and fearful of villains and heroes alike, too hindered by their experiences to truly take heart in those that claim to protect them. Throw in a few slums, and you've got a mess waiting to happen -- and, for that matter, a mess that Jaime often noses his way into when Heropa's looking all clear. It's not as though he wants to limit himself to a single city, right?

But for all of that dramatic context, Jaime isn't always fighting crime, because it doesn't do to fight crime on an empty stomach. All he has on him now is a can of Coke and a bag of chips accompanying him as he sits on the edge of a rooftop, humming slightly underneath his breath, heels kicking lightly at the building beneath him as he eats with every sign of enjoyment.

Or at least until Khaji tells him that someone's there. He doesn't turn around, but he does speak.

"Hello? I can hear you, you know!"

Well, he can't. But it's easier than saying the AI in my spine told me I have company, please come out and also please don't try to kill me 'cause I'm enjoying my snack.

grabby hands at all these bugs AWH YE

[earlybird]

He thinks it's some kind of recognition. A hook in his memory, maybe from something he saw, once, a file or a page in the database -- but it's enough to slow his trajectory across the west side, invite further investigation into the creature (person?) sitting on the lip of the roof, taking a break.

He's silent, League-trained, yet still noticed--

"...-Tt.- Good for you. Would you like a gold star?"

--and grumpy about it, young voice distinctly clipped when he speaks up from the shadows, after a pause and a quick survey to confirm that it was him Jaime was definitely speaking to. It's not often Robin fails to get the drop on someone; a point of pride, as it is with most Bats.

AN INFESTATION...!

[khajidont]

"I mean, if you have one, I wouldn't say no. But mostly I was wondering who was there - figured it had to be another one of... you know, us."

And with that, he rises to his feet and trudges over to the shadows. That's a young voice, and Jaime's used to speaking to young people here, all precocious and fiercely independent and confident that they can take care of themselves... and, in many of those cases, they really can take care of themselves.

He holds the chip bag out towards the shadows. I come in peace.

"Want one?"

Oldest of the old arcades

[thelasttsviet]

Shelke had played video games at thanksgiving and developed a little bit of an obsession with them, because they were an interesting challenge (sometimes) without taxing her currently weakened body. But she didn't actually own at yet, which was why she spent a decent chunk of her free time at various arcades.

At the moment she was playing 'Barvel vs Matcom', a somewhat ancient looking fighting game. Sitting on a stool she had dragged over because she was a little too short to actually see the screen while standing. Ah, being stuck as nine year old would never not be annoying.

The arcade was mostly empty this time of day, so when she heard someone else nearby she turned, watching the other kid for a moment. Were her blue eyes glowing faintly? Yes. Yes they were.

And then back to the game. Which she was destroying.

'barvel vs matcom' bless

[earlybird]

He's not the only truant skipping school. The arcade is mostly empty, save for an elementary school student who is--

--looking at him. He can see it in his peripheral, the stare that lasts for a moment too long. His hands move automatically as he plays the level, but his eyes glance subtly to the sides. Taking stock, again, of the arcade. Looking for threats.

But there's nothing. Just the girl, back to playing her game. Which begs the question of why?

At this point, Damian is returning the favor in full, though his stare back is narrowed, openly suspicious.

I wanted to make an import game but these are probably too old!

[thelasttsviet]

It was a few seconds before she seemed to realized he'd noticed her and was watching right back, though the only evidence of that was a faint tilting of her head to the side. Listening for footsteps over the sounds of the game, perhaps. But he wasn't approaching, just...staring? Hm.

Not that she could judge, she'd just been watching him, after all. Still...

"Why are you looking at me?" She asked abruptly, without turning around. Her voice was quiet, and flat, almost emotionless. And she didn't stop playing while she asked.

robins and cars

[performance]

[ Well, look, not all crimes can be big deals. Technically Dick's not sure if a grade schooler methodically dismantling a hover car even really counts as a crime, so much as an impressive inconvenience. The kid sure seems to know what he's doing, he thinks, from his perch atop a building. There's a deliberate curiosity to the way the kid is handling the machinery that has to be more than just thievery — which makes Dick curious, in turn.

So Dick lets him go about his mechanical reverse-engineering for longer than he strictly, perhaps, should.

After a minute, though, he drops down onto the pavement behind him with a soft sound, an amused little smile on his face, head tilted and a hand on his hip. The face of someone who's going to let you explain yourself. ]

Aren't you a little short for a mechanic?

the only thing the boys have in common: a deep appreciation for things that go nyoom

[earlybird]

[ There isn't a single hitch in his work, despite the interruption. Not a glance up from the boy who's left the engine neatly dismantled, in chunks, as he continues to dig deeper under the hood.

There is, however, a distinct click of the tongue from inside. ]

How original. Such a stunning display of wit.

[ He has perfected the art of Pennyworth's dry drawl, and he has weaponized it, muffled as the clipped words may be. ]

And it seems it only took you the better part of ten minutes to put together -- truly, an achievement.

[performance]

[ Wow, this kid is sassy. Dick thinks he probably ought to feel insulted that he was apparently noticed when he'd been so sure taht he was being stealthy, but honestly? He's really more impressed than anything. ]

Don't tell me — eyes in the back of your head. No, wait. Sonar? Were you bitten by a radioactive dolphin?