Stephanie Brown (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysroomforhope) wrote2008-11-08 12:01 pm
alwaysroomforhope) wrote2008-11-08 12:01 pm
Entry tags:
[shatter: the restless dead]
It 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.