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Steph almost doesn't realise she's slipped into Milliways instead of their hut of the moment. She's distracted, and way too tired. But then there are barstools and the lights of the Window and she grins, perking up, and slips upstairs to her room, intending to fall straight into bed and greet the world in the morning.
Steph nearly forgets Makita's presence as soon as the door opens to the suite they shared.
It smells like home. Even more than the bar. It's spacious and airy and Steph walks in slowly, footfalls soft on the floor.
There's a sword hanging over the mantelpiece. She goes to it slowly, lifting it down, running her fingers over the grip and admiring the balance of the blade.
This was made for her. In the smithy outside. It fits her weight perfectly, her height; it feels like an extension of her arm. She remembers patrolling the bar with it on her back, remembers endless hours training at the pells with it, learning manoeuvres and practicing until her arms were ready to drop off.
She puts it back up, after a moment. She's not sure it's really hers any more. That was a different life.
There are Mickey Mouse ears in the bedroom. And clothes in her size, looking well-worn. Pyjamas, silky ones she'd never have chosen for herself. A pair of ridiculous lacy underwear she'd never gotten around to giving back to Mel. Or Mike. Whoever's. Jeans, long-sleeved shirts, comfortable and lived-in. Silly pretty dresses, too nice for her ever to have owned them in real life. A green and a red bikini, both things she'd never have chosen.
She wonders where Goldy is, anyway. These are so Goldy Steph can imagine her friend looking over her shoulder already, laughing when Steph tosses them back into the drawers.
The bottom drawer has a silver bracelet, paired dolphins twining around each other. She looks at it for a second, trying to recall. It was important. There was a boy, someone she loved. But it's so hard to remember.
There are bits of a glass statue of something - a bird, a robin? - but Steph can't remember why.
There's cat food. She wonders what happened to her kitten, the little male named Cassandra. Probably someone looked after him. She hopes they did.
Under the bed, there's a short bit of carpet, about the same size as a skateboard. When Steph pulls it out and lets it go, it hovers in mid-air, waiting for her, and when she steps on she finds her balance as if she'd never been away.
"Talk about a walk down memory lane," she says weakly, looking up at Makita, strands of rainbow-coloured hair falling over her face. "This is - this is really weird."
It smells like home. Even more than the bar. It's spacious and airy and Steph walks in slowly, footfalls soft on the floor.
There's a sword hanging over the mantelpiece. She goes to it slowly, lifting it down, running her fingers over the grip and admiring the balance of the blade.
This was made for her. In the smithy outside. It fits her weight perfectly, her height; it feels like an extension of her arm. She remembers patrolling the bar with it on her back, remembers endless hours training at the pells with it, learning manoeuvres and practicing until her arms were ready to drop off.
She puts it back up, after a moment. She's not sure it's really hers any more. That was a different life.
There are Mickey Mouse ears in the bedroom. And clothes in her size, looking well-worn. Pyjamas, silky ones she'd never have chosen for herself. A pair of ridiculous lacy underwear she'd never gotten around to giving back to Mel. Or Mike. Whoever's. Jeans, long-sleeved shirts, comfortable and lived-in. Silly pretty dresses, too nice for her ever to have owned them in real life. A green and a red bikini, both things she'd never have chosen.
She wonders where Goldy is, anyway. These are so Goldy Steph can imagine her friend looking over her shoulder already, laughing when Steph tosses them back into the drawers.
The bottom drawer has a silver bracelet, paired dolphins twining around each other. She looks at it for a second, trying to recall. It was important. There was a boy, someone she loved. But it's so hard to remember.
There are bits of a glass statue of something - a bird, a robin? - but Steph can't remember why.
There's cat food. She wonders what happened to her kitten, the little male named Cassandra. Probably someone looked after him. She hopes they did.
Under the bed, there's a short bit of carpet, about the same size as a skateboard. When Steph pulls it out and lets it go, it hovers in mid-air, waiting for her, and when she steps on she finds her balance as if she'd never been away.
"Talk about a walk down memory lane," she says weakly, looking up at Makita, strands of rainbow-coloured hair falling over her face. "This is - this is really weird."
(no subject)
Jul. 1st, 2011 12:38 pmSteph has been in Kenya for months and there is a number she hasn't called.
Well - okay, there's a lot of them, given that she hasn't kept in touch with anyone from her former life. But one in particular. One that she keeps worrying at, like a sore tooth. She knows Barbara knows she's alive, she knows Barbara knows where she is. Babs knows everything.
Steph hasn't really felt any motivation to call but even so, she's still a little hurt that Babs hasn't made the effort either.
It's early morning in Kenya. They aren't big on clocks these days, but it's not sunrise yet. Steph does not like the dark particularly well; it's too dark. Not like Gotham's night. Out here there's nothing. Animals noises she doesn't recognise, and the stars. Way too many stars.
But she can't sleep. And for once, they're in a village that has regular electricity, and her cell phone is charged. Leslie insisted they have cell phones and Steph didn't really have any reason to argue - and tonight - this morning - she's actually about to use it.
Not that she has any idea what time it would be in Gotham. Or really cares. Barbara will be there.
It takes her a while to get through to Gotham - although it's easier than it could have been. And she's still not really sure what she's going to say when it finally starts to ring.
Well - okay, there's a lot of them, given that she hasn't kept in touch with anyone from her former life. But one in particular. One that she keeps worrying at, like a sore tooth. She knows Barbara knows she's alive, she knows Barbara knows where she is. Babs knows everything.
Steph hasn't really felt any motivation to call but even so, she's still a little hurt that Babs hasn't made the effort either.
It's early morning in Kenya. They aren't big on clocks these days, but it's not sunrise yet. Steph does not like the dark particularly well; it's too dark. Not like Gotham's night. Out here there's nothing. Animals noises she doesn't recognise, and the stars. Way too many stars.
But she can't sleep. And for once, they're in a village that has regular electricity, and her cell phone is charged. Leslie insisted they have cell phones and Steph didn't really have any reason to argue - and tonight - this morning - she's actually about to use it.
Not that she has any idea what time it would be in Gotham. Or really cares. Barbara will be there.
It takes her a while to get through to Gotham - although it's easier than it could have been. And she's still not really sure what she's going to say when it finally starts to ring.
Steph is recovering.
It's not fun and it's not pretty but she's gritting her teeth and doing it, working through the physio and putting her head down and dealing with the therapy sessions, trying not to look at herself in the mirror and trying not to care when anyone else looks at her. Because they keep looking and Steph thinks that's maybe the worst thing of all, the fact that there's evidence engraved right on her face of what she d--
Of what he did to her. Like the therapists say. What he did. Because they keep telling her it wasn't her fault, it totally wasn't. They tell her it was Black Mask's fault.
Leslie tells her it was Batman's fault.
Sometimes she half believes that.
When she wonders why it was just so easy to find that plan in that computer, for a girl who stopped learning computers about as soon as it became more fun to spend time making out with Tim instead. When she wonders what the hell that plan was even meant to do, how it was supposed to work out. When she thinks Any other Robin would have known who Matches Malone was. Any other Robin would have had help.
Sometimes she doesn't. Nobody made her do it, after all. She was just stupid (reckless, like Jason, another costume in a case) and overeager to prove herself (no father figure, needed validation, blah blah blah) and -- basically just stupid.
Mostly she prefers not to think about it. Therapy kind of stinks. She can't hit things, and that's always been the easiest way to deal with her problems before, so they want her to talk. Yeah, right. it's not as if she can tell the counsellor what actually happened. "So I was Robin, and I worked for Batman, and --" Yeah, about then would be the straitjacket.
Maybe not. Apparently Bruce got caught on camera rescuing some dying girl from a school and now everyone knows he's real. That's what the news said, anyway.
(Steph had looked at the picture and thought -- too many things. Like "that was my fault that girl died" and "he must have been really stressed to have let the media get him" and "isn't that the girl Tim was kissing" but mostly, mostly what she'd thought was "why did he save her and not me?")
Still, she's not about to go telling people. Nobody except Leslie even knows that Stephanie Brown is alive. Well, Babs, probably. Steph hasn't heard fom her and hasn't tried to get in touch, either. She's "Melanie Green" in the hospital and to the therapists and physio people, and she doesn't see anyone else. Melanie Green who was abducted by one of those Gotham crazies and tortured and is now pretty messed up, but recovering. Poor Melanie.
That word is important. Recovering. She's recovering.
But she still gets really, really freaked out by weird things - the sound of generators, or construction crews with chainsaws, drills (she's never going to be able to see a dentist again), darkness, those pictures of people climbing down mine shafts in hard hats and headlamps ...
Well, maybe that's not so weird, considering.
The really weird things she doesn't tell anyone about except Leslie. She's having weird, weird hallucinations, or dream-memories, or something. Ridiculous, stupid, crazy things.
Like - sometimes when she looks up at the stars she's absolutely, one hundred per cent certain that they're all about to explode. Not in a "oh my god it's the end of the world" way, and there's no fear or anything, it's not like she's having morbid fantasies. It's just that she can see perfectly clearly how this one will whirl out into a pink cloud of dust and that one will shudder and blink out and this one will blur into that one and they'll all whirl together in a colossal cloud of destruction.
She's not imagining it. She didn't ever sit down and say "I wonder what the end of the universe looks like?" and then picture exactly what it would look like to see stars die. The images were just there, in her head. Like a memory.
Or the phrase "the end of the universe." On her tongue, that feels like something she's said a million times. A billion. And she's also half convinced that it's followed with "and I'm dead."
She's not dead. That is blatantly obvious. She'd been sure she was at first, even when Leslie told her differently. It didn't seem weird or strange. It was just that she was dead and the universe was ending and that was the end of it.
And she has this recurring dream where she can fly. On a skateboard. A freaking skateboard. Made of carpet. All she can think of is that she spent way too much time with Tim in his Tony Hawke phase. But - that was years ago, and it doesn't explain why now she can remember so clearly what it's like to swoop upwards into the sun with the lake glistening beneath her and someone at her side. A friend. A sister.
As if Steph ever knew what it was like to have a sister.
She remembers travelling to a planet where everyone was blue. She remembers being electrocuted down by the side of that shining lake. She remembers being trapped inside a giant game of Munchkin. Munchkin, of all things. Jeeze, she hasn't ever even played that, only watched Tim.
She remembers Dick looking out for her and Tim and Kon kissing in a corner. That last, yeah, that was almost definitely her imagination. (But since when does she think of Superboy as "Kon"? He goes by Conner now, and he's dead, too.)
She remembers visiting a city that was like Gotham, only a built-up, amazing Gotham with flying cars and towering skyscrapers and no sky. Again with the sister. Steph vaguely remembers meeting someone in the hospital, in the first weeks after - after. She figures she's invented a friendship with that woman, Mel, because there's no other damn thing going on in her life.
She says 'remembers' because she isn't about to admit to hallucinations. Dreams, maybe. 'Remembers' works for dreams. But none of it can possibly be real.
"Morbid, creepy, weird," she describes them to Leslie, when the topic comes up, and Leslie frowns and makes concerned noises and then talks about post-traumatic stress disorder and asks if Steph's getting enough rest. Which she is. Jesus, rest is all she ever does.
"Maybe you need a break," Leslie says, one day.
Steph does three more pushups, then drops to the floor and rolls to look up at the doctor. "From what, exactly? My punishing schedule of brooding, resting, physio, and brooding?"
"Exactly." Leslie looks at her, head tilted to one side thoughtfully. "How do you feel about Kenya?"
Steph says brightly, "I hear they've got tigers."
Leslie smiles, a little bit. "I've talked to Barbara. She agrees it could be good for you to spend some time out of Gotham. And I know there's good work we could do, in Kenya."
Steph sits up, draws her knees to her chest, and thinks about that. "... Everyone here thinks I'm dead already," she points out, after a moment or two of consideration. "I don't really feel like telling them otherwise."
Not until she's better. Not until she can go back and kick ass and take names. Like this, scarred and broken and without anything resembling stamina - and still dreaming of the flames - yeah, she'd rather not, thanks.
"Is that a yes?" Leslie prods, gently. Steph shrugs.
"I guess so. I don't really care."
"Well," Leslie says, gentler than before. "Think about it. And if you really don't care, then we'll go."Steph considers this, and shrugs. "Okay."
That's about all she's got in her.
(no subject)
Dec. 18th, 2010 12:11 amSteph .......... hurts.
For some time, that is all she knows. Oh, there's some other stuff going on, machines beeping and people talking a lot and gunfights outside, and sometimes when she opens her eyes the sky is flame-coloured, but that stops after a while.
Eventually there's more to the world than hurt, though. Like the vague realisation that she's hungry, and that she has too many tubes and wires attached to her for comfort.
And that she's not dead after all. Which is a nice realisation to come to, because somehow she had been absolutely sure that she'd died. A long time ago. But here she is, and she hurts way too much to be dead now. So ... that's okay, then.
She's just not really sure what happens next.
For some time, that is all she knows. Oh, there's some other stuff going on, machines beeping and people talking a lot and gunfights outside, and sometimes when she opens her eyes the sky is flame-coloured, but that stops after a while.
Eventually there's more to the world than hurt, though. Like the vague realisation that she's hungry, and that she has too many tubes and wires attached to her for comfort.
And that she's not dead after all. Which is a nice realisation to come to, because somehow she had been absolutely sure that she'd died. A long time ago. But here she is, and she hurts way too much to be dead now. So ... that's okay, then.
She's just not really sure what happens next.
(no subject)
Nov. 2nd, 2010 12:31 amSteph is really hoping this will just be a quick jaunt. A really quick one. She's still not sure why, exactly, she agreed to go with Babs to visit Gotham. Sure, she misses it, but - she still can't ever go back.
She's fidgeting with her security badge uncomfortably, half-turned to speak to Babs as the Door opens; she breathes in deeply before setting her shoulders and shutting her eyes and stepping through.
She's fidgeting with her security badge uncomfortably, half-turned to speak to Babs as the Door opens; she breathes in deeply before setting her shoulders and shutting her eyes and stepping through.
(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2009 12:40 amTake one small circular expanse of snow.
Surround with ice in shape of small dome.
Fill with preserved food and blankets.
Lower surrounding temperature to dangerous-to-human levels; fill air with swirling vortex of snow.
Now, fill tiny igloo with two teenagers.
Mix.
Surround with ice in shape of small dome.
Fill with preserved food and blankets.
Lower surrounding temperature to dangerous-to-human levels; fill air with swirling vortex of snow.
Now, fill tiny igloo with two teenagers.
Mix.
(no subject)
Sep. 30th, 2009 09:42 amThe building would go a lot quicker if there were two people working on it. But maybe, Steph eventually realises, once her anger has subsided enough for her to think in as close to a straight line as she ever gets, it isn't the end result that's important.
She can't sit still for too long in this weather. They'll have to move at least some of the gear from the hide tent into the igloo, whatever they're going to need to weather out a storm, Steph guesses. Lamps. Clothing. As much food as theyv'e got. Not hunting gear and none of the drying racks. Probably flooring of some kind. She has no idea what the floor of an igloo consists of - just ice? Definitely the sleeping roll and as many of the other furs as possible, then.
Tea. Definitely tea.
Rope, because they'll need to be able to find their way to the lat and back, and Steph has some recent and painful experience with white-out storms. Her pack, because there's still a handful of dried food supplements and a thermal blanket, which might be useful.
She tidies everything, folds sealskins over the equipment that they won't need in the igloo, moves what they will need into the centre of the tent in preparation for carrying it over.
And then when she's done, quiet and calm - at least on the surface - she makes tea again, and kneels down by the fire to wait, resisting the urge to go to him.
(she has no idea what she's doing, no idea how to fix anything. but she has to try.)
She can't sit still for too long in this weather. They'll have to move at least some of the gear from the hide tent into the igloo, whatever they're going to need to weather out a storm, Steph guesses. Lamps. Clothing. As much food as theyv'e got. Not hunting gear and none of the drying racks. Probably flooring of some kind. She has no idea what the floor of an igloo consists of - just ice? Definitely the sleeping roll and as many of the other furs as possible, then.
Tea. Definitely tea.
Rope, because they'll need to be able to find their way to the lat and back, and Steph has some recent and painful experience with white-out storms. Her pack, because there's still a handful of dried food supplements and a thermal blanket, which might be useful.
She tidies everything, folds sealskins over the equipment that they won't need in the igloo, moves what they will need into the centre of the tent in preparation for carrying it over.
And then when she's done, quiet and calm - at least on the surface - she makes tea again, and kneels down by the fire to wait, resisting the urge to go to him.
(she has no idea what she's doing, no idea how to fix anything. but she has to try.)
(no subject)
May. 2nd, 2009 11:23 pmThe farm gets very quiet late at night. It's nothing like Gotham, but it's not much like Eden, either - it's a farm and it's alive, and there's wind through the fields of crops and insects buzzing around and people talking quietly back inside the farmhouse, and there's electric light spilling out from the windows but it doesn't reach very far. And there's the stars. There were stars in Eden, too, but Steph didn't recognise the constellations or know what to expect. The stars here are basically the same as the ones she knew from before, from Gotham - except there's so many of them. Millions. On a clear night on the Gotham rooftops there might be fifty stars. Here they just never stop.
And Steph never gets tired of watching them, lying stretched out on the roof of the bunker with a pillow, listening to toddler snores from within and the soft hum of the generators. There's a few lights on in the cruise ship and a few more in the castle, warmer and yellower and closer than the stars, but the farmhouse is dark and quiet and the bunker, too. It's nearly summer again and the air is warm enough that she only needs a light jacket.
If only everything else could be as comforting.
And Steph never gets tired of watching them, lying stretched out on the roof of the bunker with a pillow, listening to toddler snores from within and the soft hum of the generators. There's a few lights on in the cruise ship and a few more in the castle, warmer and yellower and closer than the stars, but the farmhouse is dark and quiet and the bunker, too. It's nearly summer again and the air is warm enough that she only needs a light jacket.
If only everything else could be as comforting.
If Shatter!Stephanie had a Twitter ...
Apr. 22nd, 2009 06:51 pm
cantspoilthis: @meatandsarcasm @asbestosmom ...guys?
less than a minute ago
cantspoilthis: @meatandsarcasm where are you???? hana's getting cranky for unca
about 28 minutes ago
cantspoilthis: is babysitting! LOO JUST TRIED TO EAT MY EAR, DON'T YOU FEED THESE KIDS @asbestosmom?
about 46 minutes ago
meatandsarcasm: likes driving!
about 4 hours ago
cantspoilthis: @thegoddamnbat No, sorry, not any more :)
about 4 hours ago
cantspoilthis: @asbestosmom we're on our way home!!!!!
about 4 hours ago
thegoddamnbat: @cantspoilthis You're in Metropolis, Stephanie?
about 6 hours ago
asbestosmom: @meatandsarcasm @cantspoilthis stay where you are or beatings are getting handed out
about 8 hours ago
cantspoilthis: that last one was @asbestosmom! we'll come back if you need us!
about 8 hours ago
cantspoilthis: hopes you dont, metropolis rocks
about 8 hours ago
meatandsarcasm: @asbestosmom need us back?
about 8 hours ago
cantspoilthis: @asbestosmom what sort of weird stuff?
about 8 hours ago
asbestosmom: yeah I do. weird stuff happening.
about 11 hours ago
meatandsarcasm: @asbestosmom Don't you have farm work to be doing?
about 12 hours ago
cantspoilthis: @asbestosmom :D :p :p :p
about 12 hours ago
asbestosmom: @cantspoilthis @meatandsarcasm GET A ROOM!
about 12 hours ago
cantspoilthis: @meatandsarcasm oh yeah :-***** ♥
about 12 hours ago
meatandsarcasm: @cantspoilthis I don't need to, you said it last night :p
about 12 hours ago
cantspoilthis: @meatandsarcasm are you implying anything's better?
about 13 hours ago
meatandsarcasm: @cantspoilthis Oh... really?
about 13 hours ago
cantspoilthis: still thinks roofjumping is the best thing in the whole world!!
about 1 day ago
(no subject)
Mar. 7th, 2009 09:34 pmSteph's talk with Batman has cleared up precisely nothing. It's nearing daylight by the time the window slides up soundlessly again and she slips inside, cloak blending with the shadows, tired and only wanting to slide into bed with a snuggly, snoring boyfriend. Which she promptly does.
Somewhere that's way too early in the morning, the warm snuggling goes away. There might have been some talking, but Steph couldn't swear to it, because it's nearly evening by the time she actually wakes up, finding herself curled up in a tight ball alone in bed with exactly zero answers more than she started with.
She crawls out of bed, shaking her limbs out to clear the cramps from sleeping so huddled, and shaking her head to clear the bad dreams. (Running, always running, with her father behind her laughing and his friends, and Batman ahead - so far ahead she'll never catch up - and then a long line of people she's known, people who've died, people who she might have killed. Phil and his two stupid cannibal sons are there, staring at her. Babs is there, watching her run. Sokka isn't there, she can't find him anywhere, she can't find anyone who won't look at her like she's a failure -- and alwaays the running.)
Cleaning her teeth is the first thing she does; after sleeping all day it feels like her tongue is a dirty fuzzy old sock. Then she wanders out to the balcony to look down at the city spread out below the apartment. It's Metropolis - too clean, too shiny. It's not home, not the way that Gotham was or the farm is now. But maybe she can learn to live with that.
Somewhere that's way too early in the morning, the warm snuggling goes away. There might have been some talking, but Steph couldn't swear to it, because it's nearly evening by the time she actually wakes up, finding herself curled up in a tight ball alone in bed with exactly zero answers more than she started with.
She crawls out of bed, shaking her limbs out to clear the cramps from sleeping so huddled, and shaking her head to clear the bad dreams. (Running, always running, with her father behind her laughing and his friends, and Batman ahead - so far ahead she'll never catch up - and then a long line of people she's known, people who've died, people who she might have killed. Phil and his two stupid cannibal sons are there, staring at her. Babs is there, watching her run. Sokka isn't there, she can't find him anywhere, she can't find anyone who won't look at her like she's a failure -- and alwaays the running.)
Cleaning her teeth is the first thing she does; after sleeping all day it feels like her tongue is a dirty fuzzy old sock. Then she wanders out to the balcony to look down at the city spread out below the apartment. It's Metropolis - too clean, too shiny. It's not home, not the way that Gotham was or the farm is now. But maybe she can learn to live with that.
(no subject)
Dec. 1st, 2008 05:50 pmSuki and Toph and Katara are nice, and sweet, and fun, but they're not her family and they've been driving for like three days now, stopping every half-hour so Toph can fix this pothole or that, or lift this tree or that out of the road. The car smells and the constant driving is giving her a headache. And Sokka's busily stressing himself out, she just knows, and she has to drive the stupid car and can't be over there for him.
And if that zombie attack was Hallowe'en, and it's totally been more than a month since then, it's like December now. That means she missed Hallowe'en, missed Thanksgiving, and also missed her birthday. She spent a good half-hour in the car trying to work out which birthday. Time kinda got messed up - less than a year in Eden but probably more than a year here, or maybe less, they kind of gave up keeping track of time ... as near as she can make it, she's probably eighteen and a half, maybe a bit more. Which was weird as hell to realise. That's so old.
And she's still smarting a little from Babs turning down her offer of help.
And that Rachel chick, the killer, was heading to the farm, last she heard.
The whole situation is really kind of wearing on Steph's nerves.
A lot.
And if that zombie attack was Hallowe'en, and it's totally been more than a month since then, it's like December now. That means she missed Hallowe'en, missed Thanksgiving, and also missed her birthday. She spent a good half-hour in the car trying to work out which birthday. Time kinda got messed up - less than a year in Eden but probably more than a year here, or maybe less, they kind of gave up keeping track of time ... as near as she can make it, she's probably eighteen and a half, maybe a bit more. Which was weird as hell to realise. That's so old.
And she's still smarting a little from Babs turning down her offer of help.
And that Rachel chick, the killer, was heading to the farm, last she heard.
The whole situation is really kind of wearing on Steph's nerves.
A lot.
Shatterverse Steph
Dec. 1st, 2008 04:10 pm( Questions L to Z from the Book of Questions thingo. )
Questions A - K are here.. List of questions from here. See, I totally finish things I've started.
Eventually.
>>
Questions A - K are here.. List of questions from here. See, I totally finish things I've started.
Eventually.
>>
[shatter: the restless dead]
Nov. 8th, 2008 12:01 pmIt occurs to Steph, sitting on a rooftop high above Metropolis applying gauze to her bullet-grazed shoulder, that fighting crime in a city full of the lost and the hungry and the refuge-seeking is an entirely different thing from fighting crime in the suburbs of her own home town. People have nothing to lose here - they have nothing to start with.
It's kind of more satisfying, though. She's achingly tired, bone-weary in a way she hasn't been for too long; one leg is cramping, her shoulder is burning - and it feels really, really good. People are alive tonight because Spoiler was there.
She's missed this.
"Hey."
Steph looks up, startled; it's two minutes to midnight, and she hadn't heard anyone approach. It's a woman, tall and broad-shouldered, short-haired, wearing biking leathers. Something's wrong with her face, but in the sparse light Steph can't really see what it is. "Hello," she says cautiously.
"Spoiler, huh." The woman's voice is harsh, raw. "Good name. Spoil everything."
Steph's hood is down, her shoulder bare, bleeding through the gauze a little. There's a jolt of secret-identities-no! before she remembers she's not in Gotham any more.
She pulls her costume up anyway, getting to her feet. The newcomer is a lot taller than Steph is, all bulk and muscle; slow, though. Steph is sure she can take her if she needs to.
"That was kind of the point of it, yeah," she agrees carefully. "Can I help you?"
"You helped enough." The woman is still approaching, features twisted in a snarl. She steps into a patch of light, reflected from the Planet building, and Steph realises what's wrong with her face - it's gone, it's rotted away. "You killed me."
Steph falls into a crouch, prepared to fight. "I don't kill."
"You blew up a gas station. You let us die. What's the difference? Aren't you supposed to be a superhero?" The dead woman's voice drips with scorn.
"That was - that was an accident," Steph says sharply. "And you would have killed us - you would have killed my family."
"So instead you killed mine." She's still approaching, and now Steph can smell the charred flesh, can see her melted eyesockets and oozing skin. "Spoiler."
Steph swallows, and takes a careful step backwards, back towards the edge of the roof.
"We've been looking for you all day," says a new voice behind her, and she spins, and finds another burnt, dead biker, strips of flesh hanging from her face, wearing a terrifyingly wide, skinless grin. "We found you. Oh, the others will be pleased. There's a lot of people on this side of life who'd really, really like a piece of you, Spoiler."
There's a noise behind her and Steph spins again, to find the first woman rushing at her, arms outsretched --
-- behind them, silently, the clock on the tower three blocks away ticks over to midnight --
-- Steph drops to avoid the first attack, leaps high to avoid the second, but no second attack comes.
She's alone on the rooftop, untouched.
It's kind of more satisfying, though. She's achingly tired, bone-weary in a way she hasn't been for too long; one leg is cramping, her shoulder is burning - and it feels really, really good. People are alive tonight because Spoiler was there.
She's missed this.
"Hey."
Steph looks up, startled; it's two minutes to midnight, and she hadn't heard anyone approach. It's a woman, tall and broad-shouldered, short-haired, wearing biking leathers. Something's wrong with her face, but in the sparse light Steph can't really see what it is. "Hello," she says cautiously.
"Spoiler, huh." The woman's voice is harsh, raw. "Good name. Spoil everything."
Steph's hood is down, her shoulder bare, bleeding through the gauze a little. There's a jolt of secret-identities-no! before she remembers she's not in Gotham any more.
She pulls her costume up anyway, getting to her feet. The newcomer is a lot taller than Steph is, all bulk and muscle; slow, though. Steph is sure she can take her if she needs to.
"That was kind of the point of it, yeah," she agrees carefully. "Can I help you?"
"You helped enough." The woman is still approaching, features twisted in a snarl. She steps into a patch of light, reflected from the Planet building, and Steph realises what's wrong with her face - it's gone, it's rotted away. "You killed me."
Steph falls into a crouch, prepared to fight. "I don't kill."
"You blew up a gas station. You let us die. What's the difference? Aren't you supposed to be a superhero?" The dead woman's voice drips with scorn.
"That was - that was an accident," Steph says sharply. "And you would have killed us - you would have killed my family."
"So instead you killed mine." She's still approaching, and now Steph can smell the charred flesh, can see her melted eyesockets and oozing skin. "Spoiler."
Steph swallows, and takes a careful step backwards, back towards the edge of the roof.
"We've been looking for you all day," says a new voice behind her, and she spins, and finds another burnt, dead biker, strips of flesh hanging from her face, wearing a terrifyingly wide, skinless grin. "We found you. Oh, the others will be pleased. There's a lot of people on this side of life who'd really, really like a piece of you, Spoiler."
There's a noise behind her and Steph spins again, to find the first woman rushing at her, arms outsretched --
-- behind them, silently, the clock on the tower three blocks away ticks over to midnight --
-- Steph drops to avoid the first attack, leaps high to avoid the second, but no second attack comes.
She's alone on the rooftop, untouched.
[Shatterverse]
Jul. 9th, 2008 09:49 pmThere's very little in the way of clouds in Steph's sky right now. Life on the farm is just about perfect.
It's almost a little too perfect.
She's sprawled on the far side of the kraken pond, tossing bits of bread idly to Spots and soaking up the sun, lost in thought -- far too distracted to notice anyone approaching.
(There's a tiny hint of a frown tugging her lips downwards.)
It's almost a little too perfect.
She's sprawled on the far side of the kraken pond, tossing bits of bread idly to Spots and soaking up the sun, lost in thought -- far too distracted to notice anyone approaching.
(There's a tiny hint of a frown tugging her lips downwards.)
(no subject)
Jun. 12th, 2008 08:53 amSomeone drove a truck over Steph's head.
No, someone drove a steamroller over her head.
And then filled her mouth with fuzzy, crusty goop. And started breeding little creatures on her teeth. And now they're sitting on her head hammering at her temples with an actual hammer.
Possibly a nailgun.
"aaaaaaaugh."
On the upside, she's in bed, which is a good place to be. Even though it's midday, at least, the way the sun's flooding the room. And it's ...
... wait, it doesn't smell like her bed. It smells like ...
... and she's not wearing pants.
Oh, no.
No, someone drove a steamroller over her head.
And then filled her mouth with fuzzy, crusty goop. And started breeding little creatures on her teeth. And now they're sitting on her head hammering at her temples with an actual hammer.
Possibly a nailgun.
"aaaaaaaugh."
On the upside, she's in bed, which is a good place to be. Even though it's midday, at least, the way the sun's flooding the room. And it's ...
... wait, it doesn't smell like her bed. It smells like ...
... and she's not wearing pants.
Oh, no.
(no subject)
Jun. 3rd, 2008 12:12 pm"Troublemakers ... scarin' the life outta folks ... just getting your jollies, never think about the folk under you ... suppose you think that was fun... bloody teenagers..."
The desk sergeant looks angry and irritable, scowling at them and muttering as he pushes papers around.
"Wasting police time ... resources ... cells for a night's the least of what you deserve, your parents oughta have taught you better..."
Steph is still finding it nearly impossible not to giggle. Especially when she glances at Sokka beside her, streaked with gravel and hair spiky from the wind, and remembers the looks on the people's faces.
"You damn kids don't even know the trouble you're in," the sergeant grumps, standing up finally with a notepad. "All right, give me your names."
The desk sergeant looks angry and irritable, scowling at them and muttering as he pushes papers around.
"Wasting police time ... resources ... cells for a night's the least of what you deserve, your parents oughta have taught you better..."
Steph is still finding it nearly impossible not to giggle. Especially when she glances at Sokka beside her, streaked with gravel and hair spiky from the wind, and remembers the looks on the people's faces.
"You damn kids don't even know the trouble you're in," the sergeant grumps, standing up finally with a notepad. "All right, give me your names."
I've been meaning to do this for a while -- I write so many different versions of Steph that I forget what each one knows, which is important when it comes to the Fray-family and so on. So: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
street_eden, and Wot Steph Did There.
( Cut for length. )
In conclusion, meeting![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trelali properly was totally awesome, and she should never ever stop playing Sokka, because every single thread is made of pure gold. ♥
street_eden, and Wot Steph Did There.( Cut for length. )
In conclusion, meeting
trelali properly was totally awesome, and she should never ever stop playing Sokka, because every single thread is made of pure gold. ♥(no subject)
May. 17th, 2008 01:11 pmMetropolis is awesome!
And shops! Shops are awesome!
And Claire! Claire is awesome too! ... because when Steph unsubtly made an excuse for she and Sokka to wander off alone, Claire had smirked and winked at her and helped distract Zinda.
So now she has a Metropolis, and a Sokka, and hours and hours before meeting the others, and it's all basic'ly awesome.
The particular street they're wandering down now has several boutique-type storefronts. One of them has little except leather in the window. Steph is Intrigued.
And shops! Shops are awesome!
And Claire! Claire is awesome too! ... because when Steph unsubtly made an excuse for she and Sokka to wander off alone, Claire had smirked and winked at her and helped distract Zinda.
So now she has a Metropolis, and a Sokka, and hours and hours before meeting the others, and it's all basic'ly awesome.
The particular street they're wandering down now has several boutique-type storefronts. One of them has little except leather in the window. Steph is Intrigued.
