2012-07-31 Wounded Bird

The morning after a beatdown is almost invariably worse than when it actually occurred, and this time is no exception. In fact, it's worse than usual. Before she's even opened her eyes, unfamiliar noises and smells register in her brain and she instantly awake and tense. Where the he...oh. Antiseptic. Industrial air vents. She's in that clinic where Robin dropped her off.

With a faint grimace of self-annoyance she opens her eyes then closes them again immediately. Ow. Stupid annoying fluorescent light fixtures. And the Burundi drum line in her head can very kindly go jump off a cliff, thankyouverymuch. She forces herself to sit up but then stays there for a moment to give her grey matter time to catch up with her skull.

Oracle has been getting reports from Leslie on Huntress' status, and she's also watching via the clinic's security system. Seeing the woman awake, she dials up the number of the burner phone Robin left with the woman. It's a mercifully low ringer.

Helena Bertinelli startles at the sudden (but blissfully soft) trilling of a phone nearby and cracks one eye open the tiniest bit to locate it. She sees the little phone blinking on the table next to her bed and debates trying to smash it, but then something Robin said to her filters past the percussion recital. Oracle. Weird name. She reaches for the phone then winces and tries again with her right hand, picking up the device and taking a moment to locate the 'answer' button before holding it to her ear. If it explodes... well, that'd make her headache go away.

"Yeah?"

|| "Hello Huntress. How are you feeling today?" || The voice on the other end is clearly computerized and rather androgynous. || "Robin sends his regards and when you're ready to get your bike back, I will relay the message to him." ||

Huntress frowns at the obviously concealed voice. "Like crap...he's got my bike?" She mutters a few choice cuss words. "How the hell am I supposed to get home?"

Babs is grinning a bit behind the keys. But she's also worried about the woman. || "It was in rough shape. He's getting it repaired for you," || the voice explains. She taps the keys and brings up all the data she has on Huntress and her Gotham activities. || "Batman has asked me to speak to you. He wants me to reiterate that you are operating in his city, which means you need to operate by his rules. No killing. No maiming. No risking of the lives of the civilians." || Blah blah blah. She's read this riot act to so many vigilantes by now it bores her to death.

Huntress grimaces again, but this time at the voice on the phone. "Look, HAL, this is my city too. And from what I've seen, the Bat's rules are crap. And you can tell him I said so." Well, they're not REALLY crap, but she's grumpy, she feels like fourth day of a three-day pass, and the Bat keeps on getting in her face even when he's nowhere to be seen. Insulting much? She always does everything she can to keep innocents out of the line of fire. How DARE he imply otherwise.

More than a bit stiffly, she moves to stand. "I'm outta here." She lowers the phone from her ear and prepares to hang up on Oracle.

|| "I wouldn't do that," || the voice continues, this time as a green avatar appears on the computer screen on the desk in the room. || "If you persist in ignoring his rules, you will be the next criminal he hunts down." || The avatar has no real expression, much like the voice. || "However, I can offer you an alternative. Work for me. My team has the Bat's blessing, but we work in a wider scope than Gotham." || Insinuating that Helena's more brutal tactics might be employable outside of Gotham.

Huntress startles at the sudden appearance of the green avatar, and that sets her already precarious equilibrium off for another round of internal tilt-a-whirl. She leans against the bed to wait it out and answers HAL shortly. "Damnit, get with the program. I /already/ follow the same damned rules he does." Sort of.

|| "Sort of," || Oracle notes. The head tilts to one side, as if the person can actually see Helena. That might be somewhat disconcerting. || "This is a one time only invite, however Huntress. I can provide you research and vital data. I can provide gear as you need it, safehouses, allies, and backup." ||

"Can you hand me Mandragora on a silver platter with an apple in his mouth?" Huntress quips.

|| "If only life were that simple. No, but I can help you find him." || Whether or not Oracle will look the other way when Huntress does find the murderer is anyone's guess.

Huntress sits still at that. She's been trying to track him down, but the layers of organized crime make it very very difficult. "What do you expect in exchange?" Her head's feeling a little better, but she's still leaning against the bed as if the dizziness were persisting.

|| "You wear one of my comms, and keep it on in case you're needed by a teammate. You do your thing as you do it when I don't need you, but when the Birds of Prey call, we'll be counting on you." || She looks over Leslie's computer records for Helena's health at current. || "We have something major coming up very shortly. How would you like to bloody Carmine Falcone's nose when we put an end to the human trafficking he's been dipping into?" ||

Huntress manages to NOT turn her head quickly. She'd been trying to get intel on Carmine for WEEKS now, so having him handed to her like this? Gravy. "HAL, you just said the magic words."

|| "Inside the nightstand next to your bed, taped to the underside of the top drawer, you'll find a com. Welcome to the Birds of Prey, Huntress. I'll be in touch very soon. Oracle out." || Babs toggles off the comm, the computer screen blanking out and the burner phone's circuits frying with the press of a key. She continues to watch Huntress to see what she does.

Oracle. Well, it's a better name than HAL, at least. Huntress looks at the nightstand, then gahs and drops the phone onto the bed in surprise when it starts to smoke in her hand. "Damn. SOMEone's got money to burn." She stares at the nightstand for a bit longer, though it's more because she suspects her brain will protest the movement than because she's debating actually taking the com unit. There's got to be a dignified way to do this. 'Cause falling on one's face? Not dignified.