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The crowd milled below her, a technicolour wash of lights and movement, buzzing with chatter. The shaded lamps were cracked, and the light spilled out, greedy for the shadows that clung to the tall buildings.
Steph perched above it all, the white lenses of her mask glowing against the dark fabrics of the rest of her suit. She watched the interactions below her with disinterest – they weren’t what she was here to watch.
No, her target was the man slowly making his way through the people, head low, and hands deep in his pockets.
Steph tapped her gauntlet twice.
“23:34, target spotted on Our Lady Mary’s Street, dark trench coat, dark blond, no apparent weapons yet.”
The gauntlet beeped to confirm it had saved her recording, and Steph leapt across the street, landing on the opposite building and beginning to trail him from above.
Her target’s name was Dave Anderson, and he’d recently expanded his supply chain beyond the Narrows, right into the suburbs. Hell, he’d been hanging around Steph’s estate the past week. Forty-something years old, unemployed. He made more than enough cash from dealing to keep himself afloat, and his drug connections helped him avoid jail.
Steph wasn’t in the habit of judging people for circumstances they couldn’t control, but Anderson had every opportunity to fix his problem. His parents were wealthy. He had been pretty wealthy, right up until about three years ago when he really went all in on dealing. Steph had even found evidence that his parents had put in rehab several times throughout his teens and twenties. Ultimately, there was no help that could be given to someone that didn’t want to be helped.
And not only did he not want help with his own addiction, but he was now spreading it throughout communities.
Anderson broke off from the crowd, ducking through an alley, as if that wasn’t incredibly suspicious of him. Steph followed silently.
He reached a door, looking around him before unlocking it. He never once checked above him.
Once he was inside, Steph dropped down to ground level.
“23:42, target has entered a building off Our Lady Mary’s Street. Following now.”
The lock was embarrassingly easy to pick – she was in within seconds. The door opened to reveal a gloomy stairwell.
Steph sighed. If she’d known there would be stairs, she’d have just climbed through the windows.
——
Anderson wasn’t anywhere in the building. Steph kicked the dresser as she brought her gauntlet back up to her face.
The dresser rattled, and something heavy fell over inside it.
“What?” Steph said, reaching to the door of the dresser, recording forgotten. It was locked – but once again, it was easy to pick. Steph opened the door to a ratty old suitcase, stuffed with cash.
She pulled it out, laying it open on the ground. The notes were counterfeit – and not even a good counterfeit. What use did Anderson have for fake money? Maybe his dealing business wasn’t as lucrative as he’d expected it to be, Steph mused.
“00:19, in the building. Target is nowhere to be found. There’s a suitcase full of counterfeit cash in a dresser on the top floor. Going to see if he’s on the roof.”
Instead of taking the stairs, Steph opted to climb out the window and make her way tho the roof from the outside. She peeked up over the rim of the wall surrounding the roof, but Anderson wasn’t there either. With a sigh, Steph logged her final recording. She knew from the last few days that once she lost him, he’d be gone until he resurfaced again.
If she was Batman, she could probably catch him with time to spare, she thought bitterly. Unfortunately, Steph was not Batman, and she’d just have to wait til the next day.
——
“02:12,” Steph began. “Stopped a mugging. It’s pretty quiet tonight.”
The gauntlet beeped. Steph leaned back against the ledge. It was quiet tonight. Maybe too quiet, muttered the pessimistic little voice in her head, but frankly, Steph was tired, it was two in the morning, and she was supposed to have school tomorrow. She stood up, cape billowing around her, and dove off the roof.
This was her favourite part of the night – the heart-stopping free fall right before the grapple shot out.
Only, her grapple never extended.
Steph shrieked, scrabbling for a way to save herself, but in spite of her efforts, she slammed onto the next roof over with a dull thump, rolling to a stop behind an air conditioning unit.
She lay there, panting, staring at the night sky, trying to think clearly enough to catalogue her injuries. School was probably out of the picture. Her knee was ruined.
She pressed her fingers to the back of her head, and groaned as she found the source of the pulsating pain – a large, angry bump. Great. Excellent, even.
She picked herself up, shuffling over so she could lean on the air conditioning unit.
She looked down at her leg, stretched out in front of her. Maybe ruined was her being a bit dramatic – it didn’t look broken, or dislocated, but it hurt like a bitch. She scowled at it, but resigned herself to waiting for it to settle.
Something scuffed on the roof.
Stephanie tensed, grabbing the nearest thing to her – a crumbling brick.
The scuffing solidified into the sounds of soft footfalls. Steph’s hold on the brick tightened, she drew back her arm –
And smashed the brick right in Robin’s face.
Robin stumbled back, clutching his bloody nose, leaving Steph, brick still held high, stunned and still.
“Fucking fuck,” Robin said, eloquently, and it was more than enough to spur Steph into action.
“Oh, shit,” Steph said. “Sorry?”
“It’s fine,” Robin said, “uh, I thought, I mean – you fell?”
Steph blinked at him. “Oh! Oh. No, I’m fine. Uh, thanks.”
“That’s good,” Robin said, standing there awkwardly, still holding his hand under his nose. His other hand was rifling through his pockets. “Uh, do you have a tissue?”
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Steph said, dropping the brick and grabbing the pack of tissues from her pocket. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Robin said, holding the tissue to his nose, and wiping the blood from his gloves with another. “Ugh.”
“Sorry again,” Steph said. She shifted her leg, willing it to fix itself faster so she could escape this, frankly, embarrassing interaction.
“It’s fine,” Robin repeated. “Did you make that suit yourself?”
Steph bristled. “Yes.”
Robin held his hands up placatingly. “Hey, I like it. It’s cool.” He shuffled forward – apparently the brick to the face wasn’t enough of a deterrent. He crouched down beside her. “Is your leg okay?”
“It’s fine,” Steph said, hoping he’d get the hint and fly off, or whatever Robins do.
“Here, I’ve got a compression brace you can borrow,” Robin said, displaying remarkable social ineptitude. He dropped the brace on the ground beside her.
She looked at him blankly. “You have a knee brace with you, but you don’t carry any tissues?”
Robin’s ears went red. “Um. I suppose?”
Steph snorted, but she did pick up the knee brace. Robin rocked on his heels. Steph sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to sound rude, but when are you going to leave?”
Robin seemed, inexplicably, surprised by this. “What?”
Steph stared at him. He cleared his throat.
“I mean, I was kinda going to wait until you seemed okay.”
“I am okay,” Steph enunciated slowly. “There, you’re free.”
Finally, Robin seemed to pick up on her very obvious cues. “Oh, okay. That’s – that’s good.”
“Yeah,” Steph agreed.
Robin walked away, then turned back around. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“I’m not giving you my name,” Steph said instantly. “Can’t you see the mask?”
“I meant your, like, code name,” Robin clarified. “Just so I’m not calling you Purple Girl, or whatever.”
“I’m Spoiler,” Steph said. “And it’s eggplant.”
Robin smiled, crooked. There was some drying blood on his lip. “See ya around then, Spoiler.”
“See ya,” Steph echoed back, and Robin jumped off the roof.
His grapple extended.