2014.03.19 - Acceptance

Following on immediately from here.

The call to the authorities has already gone out and, unregistered as he is, Red Robin has decided to get out of dodge. Before leaving the scene of his latest heroic act, however, he called for Spoiler to follow him. Now, high above on the rooftop of the Adams Building, he leans with one foot atop a crumbling gargoyle with the opaque eyepieces of his mask turned towards the street far below.

Spoiler is not the best equipped of heroes. Her grappler allows for one use before she has to reload the thing, and that takes time. So she's glad that her first shot goes where she aims it -- out the roof of the Adams Building, allowing her to yank herself up.

And then she realizes that Robin is climbing another building, a much taller one. So it's a good few minutes before she makes it to his gargoyle, out of breath, having ascended via the crumbling stonework and less than sturdy fire escape.

When Spoiler finally arrives, Red Robin turns around and clasps his hands at the small of his back. His lets out a long sigh, tilting his head to one side as he watches her finally reach the place where he’s decided to perch himself.

“Has Batman spoken to yet? Like, warned you and stuff?”

Spoiler blinks behind her mask. Well, she's not immediately being yelled at for operating in the city. That's a good thing. "No," she says as she starts to reload the grappler, winding the cord back into its housing. "I'm well aware that this is a dangerous place to work, though. I've lived here all my life. I see what's happening."

“I figured you know it’s dangerous, yeah,” Red Robin points at the makeshift escrima sticks, “You wouldn’t be carrying those around if you thought people like down there were going to respond to kind words and shaking your finger at them.”

He sighs, as though the next part isn’t easy at all for him to say.

“But you’re going to get yourself killed. I mean, you’re alright don’t get me wrong but it seems like only a matter of time before the police arrest you or one of these guys gets off a lucky shot.”

The girl expected this, frankly. She pauses a moment to settle herself into a seated position, props her chin on one hand, and looks up at Red Robin. "I don't know why you do what you do," she says. "I don't know why Batman does what he does. About the only person whose motivations I understand -- aside from mine, I mean -- is Superman. And maybe Vorpal. But he's kinda nuts.

"But I have reasons for doing what I do, Ro... Look, I'm just gonna call you Robin 'cause Red Robin -- no offense -- doesn't exactly trip lightly off the tongue. I have my own reasons for doing what I do. And I'm not going to stop, because those reasons aren't going away.

"I have gotten a lot better in the last six months or so -- because I have people who're willing to help me get better. I understand what you are saying, Robin. I know that what I'm doing is dangerous, and I've been damn lucky. But I can't give up, because if I do, he wins."

“Who wins?”

Red Robin seats himself opposite Spoiler, resting his elbows on his lap and knitting his fingers together. He’s listening at least, not chastising and condescending.

Dammit. Spoiler would kick herself, but it might cause the building to collapse beneath the pair. In for a penny, however, in for a pound. "My father," she says. "You and Batman have tossed him in Blackgate more than once. He's not exactly the most sophisticated self-styled criminal mastermind in the city."

Inside his head, Red Robin immediately begins to cycle through possible candidates. Repeat offenders that have a history with him? The list is endless. Okay, narrow that down. Repeat offenders with a history who have families? Fewer. Spoiler has blonde hair. Blonde repeat offenders with daughters? Ding. We have a winner.

"Cluemaster? No offense, but your dad isn't exactly the Joker."

He pauses, shaking his head slightly and letting out a sigh.

"But I see where you're coming from. I just want to get this out there, okay? I'm not telling you to stop. But I want you to understand that there are ground rules. If you break them it's over."

"My dad isn't even the freaking Ratcatcher," Spoiler replies dryly. "But you don't go home, I assume, and listen to thugs traipse in and out of your house all day and night. You don't have to watch somebody feed your mother pills to keep her nice and complacent.

"I try to play by the rules," she adds after a moment, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. "As long as they make sense."

"You know who my dad is," says Spoiler. "Then you probably know where we live. The police don't come down there at night, and they certainly don't care if my dad is feeding mom's pill addiction." She hugs her knees a bit more tightly at this. "As for the other stuff, he got parole. I tried to report him when I was fourteen. They wouldn't listen." She's quiet for a moment, then observes, "I'm pretty sure if I'd gone to Comissioner Gordon he'd have listened. He was very nice to me when I fell off a drain pipe at Gotham Central."

“He’s a good man,” Red Robin muses, thinking back on his own experiences with the Commissioner but letting them fall by the wayside for now.

“Look,” he sighs, “You’re going to keep doing this. That’s not a suggestion that’s just fact. I’ve seen where you’re coming from and now I know why. But it’s hard. You can’t take a couple self-defense courses and call yourself an expert. There’s a lot more to it than punching jerks in the face.”

He takes a deep breath. Batman may kill him.

“Let me help you. I’ve been trained. At least let me teach you some of the things that helped me.”

"Figured that one out," Spoiler replies. "I may not have much beyond a couple of YWCA classes to my name, but I'm not blind to the danger I've been putting myself in. And I'm certainly not going to turn down help, Robin. Thank you. I appreciate the offer." She smirks behind the mask. "Just make sure Batman doesn't kill you over this."

“He might. But he recognizes stubbornness when he sees it.”

A subtle dig at his own initiation in the Bat-Family, it seems. Though he says nothing more of it and his face offers no other hint besides a sudden smirk.

“He’d rather you were alive and making yourself useful than untrained and dead.”

Red Robin lifts a hand to gesture at the side of Spoiler’s head.

“You’ve got that communicator I gave you. It functions as a tracker, too. They all do that. I’ll let you know when to meet and where. You can contact me on it, too.”

Spoiler nods, raising one hand to her ear. "Sounds good," she says. "And honestly, I'd far prefer to be useful and alive, myself. So yes, I'll be looking forward to hearing from you." And she will. Because whether or not he approves, Robin's giving her the sort of support she's needed all along. Far better him than the Punisher.