batwomans_gotham | Looking down (locked to detectivebats)

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Looking down (locked to detectivebats)

Katalyn watched as a mother and her young child, a tiny girl with golden locks and a dirty nose, made their way down the street, tryin to hurry in the light rain. Nightlife faded in and out of view, shadowing the pair as they hurried to the homeless shelter, unaware of their pursuer.

Suddenly the little girl tripped, and the young mother started, stopped, and tried to help her up.

"Quickly, Macey, quickly," she said. Katalyn understood her fear. It was too late at night in too rough an area for them to stop.

And, as the mother feared, they were caught. Katalyn frowned as a tall, homeless-looking man appeared out of an alley.

"Need some help?" he asked gruffly. The mother and daughter froze.

"N-n-no," the woman said, picking up her child.

"Too bad," the man suddenly sprang forward, grabbing the mother and roughly shoving her against a wall. The woman cried out, but the child screamed louder.

And suddenly two hands grabbed the man around the neck, choking him until he let go. Then Nightlife turned and threw him into a wall, satisfied with the crunch he made and the silence of his form. Then she turned and looked at the mother, who'd snatched her child, staring with wide eyes.

Ready to be robbed. Or killed. That's how it rolled in this town.

"Go," Nightlife said gruffly. "Two blocks down, one to the right. Carry your girl, the way is clear for at leave twenty minutes."

The woman stared, and Nightlife jerked her head.

"Go," she said. The woman turned and started running, and Nightlife watched, staring into the little girl's eyes as she was born away by a loving but hard struck mother.

She sighed, then looked at the lump.

"I outta gut you," she spat at him. He moaned, but didn't wake up.

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A batarang flew out of nowhere and embedded itself in the ground next to Nightlife's foot. It was a warning, he had better aim than that.

She blinked, then beant and picked up the object, staring at it's gleam in the street lamp.

"Raped three mothers in the past two weeks," she said softly, mesmerized by its gleam, but making no move to attack the man, instead looking up at the Batman. "Killed two. All with their children watching. And those are only I heard about. You'd save him?"

"Yes." He was suddenly there, looking slightly angry. This was why he hated having so many loose canons well, loose in Gotham like this.

"This man has to be tried. You don't look like a Jury to me."

"Fine. Take him," she looked away. She wouldn't argue this with the Bat. She pocketed the weapon on her belt and then looked up at him. "I know you're not big on absolute justice, but even you have to see. Some people won't change. Trash like that," she looked at the man, her gold eyes flashing. "He won't. He's no better than the rish who buy thier mothers."

The man was tied up in a fluid instant, almost effortlessly. "That doesn't mean you have the right to kill him."

"Never said I did, or would. Said I ought to," she said, shaking her head. She might have. She tried to follow the Bat's code, but it wasn't always easy for her. She glanced at the Bat.

"You were pissed I let the theif go. The vig who took out the robbers and almost took a reward," she said.

"Still am." He motioned his head towards a darker side of an alley, he didn't want to be around anyone, unconscious or not, talking about things of this nature.

She followed.

"Hey, I didn't even get there first. Robin stopped him, and Robin was there when I left. I had buisness," she said.

"No excuse." He stopped in the middle of the alley, a spot that could easily be escaped if need be and had a good vantage point in case they were jumped (highly unlikely, but one had to always be prepared).

"What's your problem with me?" she asked, coming up close, as close as she'd been on the rooftop. "Is it because I know who you are? Or because I'm not as good as you are? Because I struggle with real anger when I see a man trying to kill a mother and permenant cripple a child?"

He looked down at her, his face seemingly etched in stone like a gargoyle while she spoke, his jaw set hard.

"You think you are the only one? The only one who thinks that man over there, that filth, deserves to die?"

"No, I don't. I think every little kid and that lady who survved him thinks so, I think the two I just saved do, his other victims, people who know him. I don't know if you do," she said. "Now answer me. What do you not like about me? Besides the fact I didn't clean up Robin's mess and that I really wanted to beat on the scum before tossed him to the road."

"You're comfortable with killing." He hadn't seen her kill, yet, but with the way she talked about it. "You're either with us, or against us. And those who kill, are against us. That, and the fact that you don't seem to be on any side."

"I've never killed in my life. Wanted to, plently of times. Nearly been killed more times than I can count, but I saw Batwoman once, and read about her, and learned about her. I thought it was the greatest thing she never killed, and I swore ever to, unless it was self defence. And I never did. I didn't even kill the son of a bitch who trashed my mother and then tossed her out a window," she said, glaring. "Tell me I don't have a right to wish that on filth who do the same."

It looked like someone let the air out of his huff, or at least his posture became slightly less stiff.

"You have that right," he said, even though the tone was still as raspy and growly as it had been, there was more feeling behind it.

She turned away, furious she'd snapped at him told him, but the idea her hero's alternate was mad at her was a bit much on top of the night's events.

She sighed, then turned and took off her mask, watching him for a moment.

"My name's Katalyn. Katalyn Peir Not that it matters much, anymore. It was assumed I died at age five. Nobody knows me by that name anymore. I live with the dregs in the sewers. I'm not proud of it, but it makes my work easier. I have stolen before, for food, but I've never killed. I'm an informant and a spy, though I collect it all for myself more than anyone these days."

She sighed, her golden eyes partially sad, partially annoyed still.

"Now you know who I am. We're even."

He was slightly surprised that she had taken off her mask, and learned about who she really was and even where she lived. She trusted him with that information, and she was an informant who knew the validity and worth of such words.

"Yes. I suppose we are." Without saying, she was a little closer to being trusted than before. Just a little.

She looked around, then sighed and put her mask back on.

"Like I said, nobody knows that name. I have no records and no papers after my fifth birthday. Still."

She stopped, then looked at him.

"Batwoman... is she ever coming back?" she asked, watching him. She doubted he passed on her plee for forgiveness, but she wasn't going to pass this chance for information. For herself.

He knew what she could do with that information, and all the bad things that could happen if he didn't or even if he did tell her, but that was the thing about trusting people. You had to trust them.

"She's...recovering. She's doing better."

She blinked, then slowly smiled, relieved. She'd known it all along, but the Batman's assurance meant a lot to her.

"I hope she comes back, soon. Though I know she had it out for me, probably still does. Still... Gotham needs her."

She did see the thoughts flittering across his mind. "Weather you believe me or not, I'm going to tell you anyway. I'll never give up your identities, or her condidition."

"Yes." Gotham did need her, because he was getting a bit nutty juggling two Gothams at the moment. He still didn't trust Nightlife, but there was something more there, now. With time and perseverance, she'd get into the circle. A whole lotta perseverance.

"For your sake, I hope not."

And patience.

She blinked, then inwardly sighed.

"You need information, I'll be around," she said, turning and taking out her grappling gun, fixing her mask. "Not that you'll trust me, but my information is always correct. Always. If you get stuck, I can help."

She fired the grabbling gun, satisfied as it struck something. Then she turned back, smirking slightly.

"Though Batwoman was always a great detective. I doubt you'll need help. Still."

He was already gone by the time she finished speaking, maybe even before then. But he did hear her words. He would be looking up her information later that night, seeing if there was proof to back it up. Even who she was.

She smiled to herself, and then was gone.

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Looking down (locked to detectivebats)

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