2013.04.01 - Joshua Harris - Part 3

Nightwing had not been in touch. Not yet, anyways, and it's not like Illyana Rasputina to sit tight and wait for some dark haired, stalkerboi to come and tell her when it's safe to go outside. It is, however, very much like Illyana to frequent a small pizza place across the way from her dorm. The food is the same as always: good and cheap, and the dinner is uneventful.

It's not until she's on her way back that Illyana gets that cold feeling, the feeling that something just isn't right. There's movement on the left, and movement on the right, she thinks. She can't be sure. But she's been in enough bad situations to know something just is not right.

You don't survive in Limbo for long without a highly-developed sense of self preservation. Cat used to ambush Illyana, just to make sure she did just that. The only hint that she notices that something is wrong is in the slight slowing of a step. The way her heel drags on the ground. But she's on alert. The dorm is up ahead, and she doesn't want to tip her hand by teleporting out here in the open. Especially if she's being watched. Instead she keeps herself on alert as she keeps heading for the door.

She gets about another 40 yards before they make their move. 2 emerge from the shadows to the right, heading out of the alleyway. 2 more emerge from the street to the left; one comes from across the street and the other steps out of a car. They all approach Illyana at once, intent on something. Most likely something harmful.

Just as one of them is pulling something from his coat, a shift in the night followed by a BIF and the clang of metal upon the sidewalk lets Illyana know she has some friendly help. Behind her, Nightwing rights himself and follows up his attack on one of the four. His downward strike-stomp from his foot tears the man's MCL on the first shot, and from there the jab to the throat puts him out of commission.

Illyana's steps slow as they make their move and she gets a look at them. Four. Four that probably have some training under their belts and that makes for bad odds. Especially given Illyana is unarmed and lacks their strength and size. She's shifting position, finding something where her back isn't exposed when Nightwing makes his appearance. He gets a glance as he attacks one of the guys, enough for her to assure herself that yeah, he knows what he's doing (she knows more than a few spandex-folks that aren't so good with actual fighting) and then she moves to attack one of the others with a kick to try to make them pause long enough that she can use their body as a meatshield from the others as she follows up. She's not bat-trained but she knows what she's doing.

Illyana's kick catches the next oaf in the chest. Though he's not knocked out, he does careen backwards a bit from the blow, and staggers, putting vital space between her and her attacker. The attack gives one of the attackers a chance to move into her, but just as one of the thugs is going to put his hands on her neck, a sickening sounds of bone on bone erupts in the night air as Nightwing's elbow crashes into the side of his neck. "Look alive," Nightwing says casually.

"Thanks. Without that great advice I'd be on the ground going for an Emmy as a corpse." Illyana shoots back instead of any kind of thank-you. "How long have you been following me?" Because them she noticed. Him, she didn't. The conversation doesn't distract her from the task at-hand, and perhaps it's that annoyance riding her tone that has her aiming a knee at the next guy's groin and following that up with a left cross.

Illyana knocks the guy out cold, much to the surprise of one Nightwing. With that, three have been taken care of. The fourth is given an unceremonious escrima-strike right to the nose, which breaks on contact. Blood spills everywhere. Nightwing's words cut through the man's screams as he regards the young Russian. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

Illyana doesn't show a lot of reaction to the violence or the blood, eyes narrowing even as the guy scrams. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to be watching me." She steps up closer to Nightwing, getting into his personal space a bit despite the bodies on the ground.

"Yeah," Nightwing said. "But I think I thought that was the only way to get you not to stab me in the back on my way out." He changes the subject quickly. "We need to get out of here in case there are more. Do you like motorcycles?" He presses something on his wrist and a loud roar from an alleyway can be heard along with a blinding spotlight on the front of the vehicle.

Illyana's lips press into a thin line of annoyance. "That's the last time I take you at your word for anything." She warns him. She glances towards the sound of a motorcycle and then at the guys on the ground. "They could have information." She points out.

"They could have more of them. Look, you got a nice right hook and all, but I've been at this for more than a decade. I got the heevy jeevies, and I'm saying we better dip." Nightwing regards them as the motorcycle starts on its own and roars towards them, stopping just outside of where Nightwing stands. It's like no motorcycle she's ever seen, likely.

Nightwing mounts the cycle and looks back to her. "You coming or not?"

Illyana's mouth opens and she starts to shoot back that she's been dealing with stuff similar since she was six before snaps her mouth closed and her lips press into another thin, unhappy line. "Fine." She bites off, stepping over and swinging onto the bike behind Nightwing. She rides with Piotr sometimes, so she's comfortable on the back of a motorcycle, even an odd-looking one.

Nightwing kicks at the pedal and reaches back towards her, handing a helmet to her. Whether she takes it or not, he pulls away from the street, screeching the tires a bit, and burning down across the road, heading west. The scenes flash by at wrecking speed, and it's clear that Nightwing is not obeying standard traffic speeds or any other rules for that matter.

Piotr's a bit obsessive about her wearing a helmet too most of the time, so the blonde pulls it on without objection and then an arm curls around his midsection as he's taking off. As Nightwing starts to get up to speed she gets the strap secured with one hand and then the other arm comes around him as she leans against his back and holds on.

The cycle spills out over a busier street and continues on west over the bridge and the Hudson. He's bringing the girl towards Gotham, obviously. From there, he turns south, heading to Bludhaven. It's sort of his section of town.

Eventually the ride comes to a close when Nightwing pulls into what looks like a normal side garage just off an alley on a secondary street in the town. He disembarks, moves to the wall and flips a switch. Bright lights illuminate the room and rather than a dingy garage, it's a pristine facility with brick walls and cement flooring. "You'll be safe here."

Illyana leans back as Nightwing brings the bike to a halt, dismounting and pulling off the helmet. A shake of her head and one hand scrubbing against her scalp settles her long hair and she looks around as the lights come up. Finally her attention comes back over to Nightwing. "That better not mean what it sounded like." Like he's planning to keep her locked up. 'For her own protection'.

"Tell me what you think it means, and then tell me what you want it to mean, and then pick one of those." Nightwing smiles at her as he flips a switch. Below a small stairwell descends into the floor. "Do you have like chinese? I think I have leftovers if you like chinese."

"Well it sounds like you might think you're keeping me here." Illyana says, hands settling on her lips. "I'm hoping you just mean 'for now'." She watches him flip another switch and there's that thoughtful frown. This obviously isn't just some spot he happened to rent out. The offer gets a small blink, the only outward sign of surprise. "You live here?"

"Nope," Nightwing says as he descends the stairs down into a makeshift living room. There's a bed in the corner, a couch, a television, a dartboard and a small kitchenette. He goes right over to the fridge and peeks inside. Holding the chinese box in his hand he takes a wiff, and throws it directly in the trash. "Okay...Chinese is out."

"Then you just stay here sometimes, huh?" Illyana asks as she looks around, taking a slow walk around the perimeter of the room. Which... doesn't make for a long walk even when she drags her heels. Finally she fixes him with that icy blue gaze. "Now what?" Because Illyana certainly doesn't plan to sit here waiting for him to blow the 'all clear' whistle.

"Now we wait and we watch. From a distance." Nightwing grabs a soda and throws one in her direction, plopping down on the couch. He flips on the television. At first, there's a sports thing on about the Gotham Rogues Football draft, but Nightwing changes the Input, and suddenly there's a picture of Illyana's dormroom. Or at least the view of it across the street. "Come on, get comfy. Shouldn't take long."

Illyana catches the soda fairly easily, stepping over as he turns on the TV. As the picture comes on of her room, he's getting another one of those withering looks. "You're lucky my brother isn't here. He'd take your head off." Still, it's not like he's making her sit here while he goes off to solve the problem and so she drops down next to him, the snap of the drink being opened loud in the small space. "Seriously, do you do this a lot?"

"Drink soda? Not really. They're empty calories, really." Nightwing tilts his head at Illyana, "Your brother will take my head off? Oh come on, like you're the kind of girl who has her brother solve her problems. Not buying it."

"You know what I mean. You may be pretty, but you're not dumb. The creeptastic voyuer bit." Illyana gives him a somewhat grudging smirk as he makes the observation and then lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I'd let you dig yourself in a bit deeper. He'd already be laying the smackdown."

"Awwwwww." Nightwing says as he smiles and tilts his head at her. His voice takes a goofy manner. "You think I'm purty. Shucks." Nightwing nods, "Well, I'd like to think that your brother would understand that I'm only doing this to help you out, and that it's only temporary. And no, I don't do this sort of thing a lot."

Illyana rolls her eyes. "Don't let it go to your head. I don't like being spied on. If you wanted to keep an eye on me, you should have let me know." She sips at her drink, scowling at the screen. "So did you have a fun night of chafing?"

"Do you think I did it because it was fun? Or because I had nothing better to do with a Saturday night?" Nightwing asks. "I did kind of let you know, but then you got pretty bossy and were tuning me out, so I just sort of did what I did. And yes. Thank you. I had much chaffing and used much babypowder, I'll have you know."

Illyana wrinkles her nose. "Baby powder. Eeech. I hate the smell of that stuff." She gives a slight sigh and leans forward to set her drink down. "No, I don't think you did it because it was fun. I think you did it because you're used to doing things your way and to hell with how anyone else thinks it should go. You know better so you're just gonna skip right to that." For some reason that makes her pause and frown a bit.

"Sounds kinda like you, I bet." Nightwing smiles, looking at her. "And don't worry, you won't see any of the baby powder parts. This isnt that sort of rescue or that sort of safe house."

There's the slight narrowing of her eyes, but the scowl likely indicates that he did indeed hit the nail on the head. Her breath hisses out of her and she leans back again, slumping down a bit as she crosses her arms in front of her. "So. Have you been watching me the whole time?" She has made an effort to keep her teleporting and demons out of sight, and she hasn't spent a lot of nights in her dorm. Where she's staying is something of a mystery.

"Not the whole time. You really make me out to be some sort of predator, you know that? You're not thankful at all. In fact, I think you may be the most unthankful person I've ever tried to help. But no, not the whole time. I've been watching the area /around/ you the whole time. What you do in your time is obviously not my business. But what some doofus does in his, is," Nightwing declares.

Illyana lets out a slow, almost hissing sort of breath. "I've been kidnapped a little too often to be comfortable with people spying on me." She says, somewhat grudgingly. And oh, she's got secrets. "And if the worst you think of me is that I'm unthankful? Well, that's better than most people."

"Well, I'm not keeping you here against your will. That'd be kidnapping and my boss would be all in a tizzy. Plus, it's not very nice. So if you want to leave, there's the door. If you want to keep watching, be my guest. It's up to you." Nightwing takes another swig of the soda, and his eyes are locked upon the television. "I would never invade your privacy."

"You know that doesn't hold a lot of water when you've got a camera on my dorm room, right?" Illyana points out, but doesn't make any move to get up from where she's slumped in the couch. "So you work for the Batman, right?" Since he mentioned his boss.

"Before tonight, I actually had cameras pointed the other direction. I'm a gentleman. But I have them turned now, because my guess is they're going to try and go for you at your room tonight. Or wait for you to go home. So, I figure we'll just out wait them." Nightwing sighs, "I think we've really gotten off to the wrong foot, Illyana. But no matter. When this blows over, you'll not see me again."

Illyana noticed that he sort of dodged that question about his boss. It's the sigh that has her looking up at him, the frown on her lips has habitual as the smirk. "Why?" She asks then, without preamble or context.

"Why am I gentleman or why are they waiting for you to go home?" Nightwing asks, apparently confused.

Illyana smirks a bit, because well. She loves having people a little off-balance. "Why are you trying to save me, even when I'm so very unthankful."

"Because it's what I do." Nightwing says, flatly. "Because I'm compelled."

The shift in tone has her brows going up a bit, and she shifts position so she's sitting up a bit straighter and facing him. "Compelled, huh? Telepathic whammy? Ancient curse?" She's mocking, just a bit. It's what she does.

"Ancient ritual. We drink the blood of those who annoy us with questions. You've been warned." Nightwing chuckles. "You hungry? I think I have some mac and cheese."

"Don't wanna talk about it, hmm? And you keep trying to make me eat. By the way, the blood of the annoying is a terrible spell component." Illyana tells him helpfully. "Look. I'm sorry." That's said very grudgingly. "I'm not used to having people butting into my life." Except Piotr. And she's just used to him. He gets a pass.

"Apology accepted. And I'm sorry too. I know it must be extremely creepy to have someone butt into your life like this. I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it was necessary, and I've honestly been trying to keep out of your business while keeping you as safe as possible. I don't think you understand how difficult that can be," Nightwing says earnestly.

"Eh. I have an idea. Which is why I was OK working *with* you instead of you being all guardian-angel on me. But. It's not like you know me." Illyana says, hitching a shoulder in another half-shrug. "You're just making your job a whole hell of a lot harder than it needs to be."

Nightwing's head sinks down to the side, sarcastically and looks to her from behind his glowing white lenses. "What would you have done, were you me?"

"I'm not compelled to help people." Illyana points out. "So... it probably wouldn't have come up, huh?" Talking to the mask doesn't unsettle her. She's too used to them. "So. Did this force your hand?"

"Not compelled to help people?" Nightwing's nose wrinkles at that. "Well, I guess you should count yourself lucky, under the circumstances." He raises an eyebrow. "Force my hand? How do you mean? We've almost got this thing cracked."

"Them jumping me. You riding in to the rescue. I'm thinking you'd have played the whole scenario without me ever seeing you if you had your way." Illyana points out. She can't help but smirk a bit. "We do, huh?"

"Yeah," Nightwing said, "That part did sort of force my hand. Luckily I was in town and could get there quickly from the time they tripped one of my devices. You got yourself a good left hook and all, but I don't know how you'd have done against four of them on your own." He nods vigorously. "You see that guy in the black jacket? He's gone by the entrance four times now."

Illyana wasn't actually paying that much attention to what looked like a pretty boring shot of her dorm. She frowns, turning to peer at the screen. She doesn't make the comment, though she's a little impressed he's been paying attention the whole time. "I still don't know why the'd be coming after me." She points out. Magical sorts, sure. Russian hitmen? No idea. "I can take care of myself." She says in a distracted manner.

"I don't know why they'd be coming after you either, Illyana. I haven't cracked that part yet, but we're going to find out." Nightwing reaches for the end table and pulls out what looks like a video game controller. "Watch this, chica," he says and as the man begins to walk, Nightwing presses a button on the controller and a whole group of mini screens show up on the tv. "Never said you couldn't. Just makin' sure you're okay. Nothing personal."

"Spit and hades, how many cameras did you put out there?" Illyana says, and it sounds like it should be a demand but she's too distracted by watching the screens. Her attention is pulled back towards Nightwing again though at that last and she shakes her head a bit. "There's not much that's *more* personal than making sure someone's alright, you know."

"Do I? I dunno. I don't even know what we're talking about anymore. Look!" Nightwing points at the screen and it shows the guy getting into a car. He zooms in on the plates. "Bam. There we go." He'd high5 Illyana if he wasn't sure he was gonna get shot down. "Bullseye."

Illyana shakes her head and leans back on the couch again, but her eyes are on him, not the television. "Now you trace the plates and go beard the lion in its den?"

"Yep. You're catching on," Nightwing says. He shrugs his shoulders, "But we wait a few days because we want them to sort of be lulled to sleep. Then we swoop in when they're not expecting it. It's how I get the upper hand. It's a noeval trick, eh?"

"It's patient, that's for sure." Illyana acknowledges. "At least you said 'we' this time. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you say that, and then run off all on your onsie to do the job yourself."

"Well, I do actually have to get going pretty quick here. I need to get up for work in a few hours and with the way we've gotten off to things, I wouldn't dare sleep in the same room as you as you'd probably slit my throat in my sleep."

Illyana rolls her eyes. "Please. I haven't even slapped you and already you're accusing me of stabbing and throat-slitting. You can be honest. Either A, you don't want to sleep in the costume or B, you don't trust that I wouldn't try to peek. There's also C, your own bed is likely more comfortable. But don't dress it up like you're afraid I'd kill you. Now. When do you want me to meet up with you, since I'm not staying here." She'll just go for a stroll through Bludhaven to find somewhere for the night!

"It was a joke. Not a lot of humor in Russia, eh? I gotchya, I gotchya." Nightwing chuckles, "I don't mind sleeping in the costume, this bed is very comfortable, but the sofa isn't. So, the real reason is I don't want to sleep on it and have a stiff back all day tomorrow." He grins, "I'm not sure you're fast enough to peek."

"You've tried hard to give me the illusion of my privacy. I'll try to return the favor. But if I have to go looking for you... no promises." Illyana warns. She's been around him long enough, has a room of things he's left an imprint on, she'd have no trouble scrying for him to teleport to. "And I'm not staying, so you can have the bed. Thanks for the drink, though." A pause and she smirks his way. "And the save." Then she heads for the stairs.