2013.03.31 - Joshua Harris - Part 2

Later that night, after Joshua Harris' body was found and identified by the police, the dorm had been quarantined for a few hours. Just recently, students were allowed back into their rooms and across the hall from Illyana is an ominous yellow tape strung across the door. "DO NOT ENTER: ORDER OF THE POLICE" Both Metropolis and GCPD officers had done some questioning, much to the irritation of those questioned, because they needed to ask the questions twice.

Dick Grayson had eventually come back after a catnap in the car, but didn't really talk much to Illyana. It's clear to her that he's a newer detective, and kind of got pushed down the ladder a bit as officers with more experience from both forces sort of took over and the young man was marginalized. Hey, when you've been on the force for only 2 years and have already made homicide, you don't complain.

But now as things have settled down, the gray clouds have turned to rain outside Illyana's dorm room. At 2:03 AM there is a smack to her window. Almost as if someone has taken their palm to it in a curt knock. In fact, that is precisely what has happened.

It's 2 AM but Illyana's not sleeping. She very rarely sleeps. She's dressed in jeans and T-shirt, not having changed into sleepwear for the evening and the smack at her window has her head snapping over towards it with the reaction time of the mildly paranoid. With the window closed the sounds of the hissing from the shadows of her closet and bed and whatnot aren't terribly audible but it's not hard to see Illyana's mouth move as she gives the curt order to be quiet. Stepping over towards the window, eyes as hard and cold as eyes look to see who is there.

There on the ledge, crouched impossibly is a figure in dark clothing. A pair white orbs that glow in the darkness. The rain is plopping off his shoulders, his hair, and his back as he just sort of hangs there upon his perch. If he were in an intruder, surely he would not knock, right?

Just then a flash of lightning erupts in the sky, lighting everything up. The figure is clad in a black and blue outfit; a skin tight combat outfit of somesort. He's motioning to the window, beckoning her to open it.

That someone coming to attack her wouldn't knock was the big reason that Illyana came over instead of well, sicking a demon at whatever made the noise. There's a slight narrowing of her eyes at the figure, but... no surprise. As the lightning strikes, revealing a little more those eyes narrow a little more. She'd have been surprised if it were Peter, sure. But it was on her list of possibilities. This figure? She seems to stand there considering for a moment, before she finally does open it and step back.

When the window slides open, Nightwing slides in and falls to the ground with a crouch. He straightens up slowly. Menacingly. Yes, it's definitely clear this is one of those super-people types that you hear about on the teevee and such. He's going to say something guttural, right? Something that Illyana might have heard from Wolverine or maybe an angry Scott once upon a time.

Instead, he straightens, and asks casually, "You don't have a towel by chance, do you? This stuff chaffes when it seeps."

He reaches into his belt and throws a USB on her bed. "You got a computer? Put that in and go to Facebook."

Nightwing's used to nervousness. Fear. Criminals are a cowardly, suspicious lot! But the blonde doesn't twitch and, once she's stepped back to let him in, she doesn't give ground either. The comment does get a reaction though. The slight lifting of one brow, a smirk that curves her lips. "Looks like you're in for a bad night then. I don't think a towel's going to help a whole lot. But," She does step over to her closet to fish one out, a brief frown as she shoves the demon hiding there that's out of Nightwing's sight further back down behind the clothing. "As I'm not a fan of you dripping all over my stuff..." She tosses it his way as he tosses the USB over and gives him another smirk. "Bossy. And without introductions, even." Illyana does *have* a computer. It doesn't see a lot of use and so she has to turn it on and let it boot up.

"I'm Nightwing. You're Illyana Rasputina." Nightwing catches the towel and wipes his face. "I'm sort of direct. It isn't personal."

He continues to wipe down his body. "Allow me to explain, Illyana Rasputina. Joshua Harris' death involves you. Back in school I was always taught to show rather than tell. That USB, will block Facebook's entry protocols so no one will be able to see that you signed on under him. I could tell you, but then you'd have to believe me. If I show you, you won't have a choice."

As the computer boots, Nightwing looks to her. "Username is under jos.harris@mu.edu. Password is <3IllRas." Creepy.

"I have an old girlfriend who moonlights as a hacker."

As if that explains everything.

Illyana doesn't use her computer with the ease that most people her age do. The typing is a bit slower, she has to search around for things a bit more. Technology is not our friend. Still, she's willing to play along with whatever he wants to show her, hunting and pecking out the name and password. She gives him a glance at the last. "Should I worry about your ex girlfriend stalking me with a password like that?" She asks in a dryly amused tone even as she inputs it. She doesn't immediately protest that she's got nothing to do with Harris' death. She'll wait to see what it is that's made him think so.

"It's not her password. It's Harris'," Nightwing says flatly as he stands behind her with arms folded. As Illyana enters the information, she's taken inside her dead peer's facebook page. Instead of a devotional to his own life, it seems to be a shrine to Illyana's. There are pictures of her splashed all over the page. On the left hand side, it says that Joshua is in a relationship with an Illyana Rasputina, which no doubt would be something she might remember. "Joshua Harris let on to his friends back in Gotham that you were his girlfriend. He stalked you in some ways. The good news is that with his death you dodged a bullet. Perhaps literally. He'd emailed a few of his equally instable friends with plans to kill a young man by the name of Peter Parker, and later, another he named only as Roberto. It seems he considered them to be threats. There's more." Nightwing exhales, waiting to see the young woman's reaction.

Illyana had assumed that said hacker changed the password for them to log in, and that it was Harris' gets her shooting him a sharp look. "What?" And for the first time, something other than amusement or suspicion crosses her features. Surprise. The bright images on the screen have her glancing back... and then stepping away from the computer. Not being a Facebook user, Illyana sure as hell didn't get any kind of messages flagging her name. "Roberto's a friend of mine. Peter and I dated for a while last year." The words are a soft, quiet admission. Not laced with fear... indeed, they're almost flat.

"Well that's swell," Nightwing says as he points to the computer. "Both Harris and his parents were shot dead. Originally, because of his long history as a patient in mental health, I figured he killed them. But it wasn't that. All three murders were professional hits. I have reason to believe that whoever committed these crimes did so as a warning. Someone far away who would only have been able to follow Harris online. Someone who thought you too were indeed dating." Nightwing leans over and clicks on the friends. Josh only had four. One of them brings up a profile of a young Russian woman. Pavela Bure. "It's a fake name. The only interaction this Bure had online was with Harris. The wounds the three victims received were from a Russian weapon." Nightwing tilts his head at Illyana. "You happen to be Russian. You see where I'm going with this?"

Illyana's blue gaze cuts over towards Nightwing and now it's that kind of cold that burns as anger sets it to blazing. "I barely even knew Harris! And I haven't been in Russia since I was like, six." She certainly doesn't have the accent anymore. "His death was supposed to be a warning too who? Me? If you hadn't woken me up I might not have ever noticed he was gone." Sad but true.

"I don't know the answer to that. All I know is that I believe Harris' death was a mix up. I believe it was done to scare you. All the wires got tangled somehow, and I believe you're in danger." Nightwing grimaces, "Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt you or someone you know from back in Russia?"

Illyana brings a hand up to rub at the back of her neck, frowning. There's a scraping sound from the closet, a sibilant hiss. Soft, but attentive ears can hear it. Illyana doesn't look away from where she's frowning at the computer screen again. It's probably not a good idea to mention that her uncle is involved in the Russian mafia here. And that her brother used to work for them. Some things don't help the situation. Or that they ran from a government mutant project looking to turn her and her brother into weapons. "I don't even talk to my parents outside of birthday cards."

"Be that as it may, I think you're in some pretty serious danger. Is there somewhere you can stay?" Nightwing tilts his head and grimaces once more. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm putting you under surveillance. I don't think the police are going to figure this out for quite some time. So, instead, you've got me."

That certainly gets Illyana's attention back over at him with a frown. "What? No. Absolutely not. I apparently might already have one stalker." And here she was joking when she mentioned it earlier about Nightwing's ex. "I don't need another." Certainly not a more-attentive-than-your-ordinary-cop type like a superhero.

"I'm afraid it's not really a choice, Miss Rasputina. I'm not going to let you suffer the same fate as Joshua because you're being headstrong. I gave you the courtesy of letting you know before hand." Nightwing folds his arms across his chest. "I'm afraid it's not really something that has options. It just is."

Illyana steps towards Nightwing, crowding him even. It doesn't matter that she has to look upwards at him because he's taller, she's looking down at him. "So you're not giving me a choice. I just have to surrender my liberty to you in exchange for security?"

Nightwing changes the subject. It's something he learned from his mentor. But when he does it, it's a heck of a lot nicer. "Look, Illyana. I know that you're brave. I know that you waltzed in to Harris' apartment because I found your footprints there. Don't know how you got in, but it's immaterial at this point. Records show that you have a brother. Could you stay with him? Maybe someone else? I really think you need to leave town until this blows over. Or until whoever is after you shows up."

Illyana's eyes do that narrowing thing just a bit as he comments on her footprints. "I'm sorry, but no. I'm not going to go and hide out until something that might not even be going on stops. Also, your records should also know that my brother teaches at a boarding school. The last thing I'm going to do is potentially drag a killer out to a *school*. Not to mention commuting to Metro U from Westchester would be a pain in the ass." To most people. That can't teleport.

Nightwing sighs. "School isn't in session for a week. You've got some time. If not going to your brother's...There's no where else that you can go?"

"If you're right, I'm not putting anyone that I care about in harm's way." Illyana says, crossing her arms in front of her and giving Nightwing a very stubborn look.

Nightwing shrugs, "Alright. Looks like I just watch you from afar then. I hope you're happy with how difficult this is going to make my life." He tilts his head to the window. "Out the same way I came in. That okay?" He hands the towel towards her.

"No." Illyana says again, the word heavy with command. Like she's used to giving orders. "I'm not going to have you spying on me. Make your life UN-difficult and cross 'spying on Illyana Rasputina like a creeper' off your list or trust me, 'difficult' will be the nicest part of the job." She doesn't take the towel, she's too busy glaring at him in a manner that would send chills down a lesser man's spine.

The look does indeed send shivers down his spine, but Nightwing is good at hiding it. The mask helps. He lets the towel drop to the floor unceremoniously. "You sure now how to say thank you. Glad I could be of assistance." He turns his back to her and slides the window open. "Take care of yourself, Illyana Rasputina." He says nothing about whether or not he's going to continue spying on Illyana Rasputina like a creeper or not. He makes his way to the ledge.

Illyana's mouth presses into a thin line of annoyance, and when she speaks it's with some reluctance. For having to say it. "Thank you. For letting me know I'm in danger. But I'm serious, Nightwing. If you want me to help find whoever this might be, I'm on board. But if you're just going to watch me like I'm chum in the water you're gonna have a hard time." Because no one disappears like a teleporter.

Nightwing nods to her, "Fair enough. We do it your way. I'll be nearby. In the next few days we'll meet up and discuss things. I really think you should leave town, but I can see arguing with you is not going to be of any use."

There's a slight flicker of surprise. Because Illyana wasn't expecting Nightwing to give, even if she is used to getting her way. "I get my stubbornness from my brother." She says as a joke, though the tone is a bit flat, given the situation. The blonde gives a nod. "Alright then. I'm guessing you've already got my phone number. I'll lie low." Not much lower than a hell-realm.

Nightwing gives a final nod and then slips out of the window into the rain. She can hear a 'pff' sound as his grapnel gun fires and clinks somewhere in the distance.

Illyana stands in the open window, the wind blowing her hair back from her face. One of the demons creeps out from beneath the bed, curling around her ankle and looking up at its mistress. It makes a short series of sounds and Illyana tilts a nod. "Yeah. We're going home for a bit." Lightning cracks again, and ice-blue eyes search the darkness for a glimpse of Nightwing's silouhette. "And then we hunt."