2013.04.20 - Hospitality is Not Dead

For once, Dragnet is not in media res. Instead he just sits on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll in, to quote an old song. No smuggling, no criminals, nothing in the shadows but more darkness...it's actually quiet for once. The AIDOS's omnitool whirrs and purrs quietly, an occasional chirp emnating from its housing as it fabricates new gas canisters and mass concussion rounds, the armor's circuitry pumping newly generated power through the suit and to its systems as a kind of digital circulatory system. All the while he scrutinizes data from the sensors and sensory enhancements of the armor. Like a kind of armored Buddha, he is. Bishamonten, the Japanese might say. It would be difficult to imagine the actual wearer is a scared young man in a battlesuit.

Huntress managed to track Dragnet down to this less than scenic waterfront area, and approaches as quietly as possible. Partly to see how good His Stigness is at monitoring his surroundings, partly because he actually seems peaceful for a change.

Dragnet barely turns from his pseudo-meditative state. Maybe he's just worked himself to the point that he doesn't have much in the way of nervous energy left. He stretches lazily, seemingly focusing on whatever progress bar that indicates the tool is working at its chosen tasks. "I'm surprised. Usually you patrol in more active sectors. It's not like you to seek quiet." Maybe he has tracked her from time to time?

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn't feel like dealing with all the noise for a change." Huntress walks up to the edge of the dock a comfortable arms-length away from Dragnet then sits down facing the helmeted man in a posture reminiscent of an Asian hostess preparing to start the tea ceremony. So why're you sitting out here?

Dragnet nods thoughtfully. "Makes sense. When I wear the armor, all my senses are sharper, extend out farther. A bit of peace and quiet does wonders." He's devoted extensive time to not only increasing the sensory powers of the suit, but bringing them into human ranges of both perception and comfort. He's not all that Asian, really. It just fits the ambience as he looks at her. "Waiting for the suit to finish fabricating ammunition. Its not a terribly long process, all things considered, but its not instantaneous." He explains. His gaze takes in the coming and going of the twilight tide, a faint chuckle emnating in that vocally modulated tone. "Thinking a bit also, maybe...."

"Well, I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I'm not entirely sure I want to go there." Huntress turns her head to look out over the water, pollutants making it almost seem ... oily. "So your suit thing makes its own ammunition, even. Must be nice. I run out of bolts, I'm out. But then, that's taught me to really make every single shot count."

Dragnet looks out at the water. "Nothing quite so morbid. I got called 'Bat-Bot' today. By a girl younger than me. I never thought that I would call anyone a kid. She doesn't have half the technology I do, even less than the mishmash of skills I had when I started, but there she was, doing it anyway. Makes me think maybe I've grown a bit. That I have further still to go. That I can't just fight crime night after night and have that be enough." He looks over at her, does a slow perusal. "It wouldn't be fast enough to make a difference in a fight, but yes, it is handy. Means I only have to wait a day or two for a complete resupply. I still have to provide it with raw materials though. Means a lot of scrounging. Lot of visits to junkyards and abandoned warehouses. Still have to be careful about ammo use, just like you."

Huntress nods a bit to herself. "Do you need copper, or iron, or steel? I might be able to keep an eye out for you from time to time for raw materials." Heck, she could feed her used and damaged steel quarrels to Dragnet's Stig-suit, kill two birds with one stone. "If steel works, I can start saving my spent quarrels for you. If they get messed up, I can't reuse them. May as well put the metal to use, y'know?" She pulls a single quarrel from the quiver on her left hip and offers it to Dragnet to study.

Dragnet takes the arrow, and she might hear a chirp as its brought close. "The way I understand it is that this thing can salvage almost anything as long as its not too big." He then opens the omnitools casing, and she would see what seems to be a whirring blue disk of pure energy. He presses the quarrel in, and almost as if some kind of molecular wood chipper it is systematically dismantled and rendered into base molecules. "It seems to only need basic things. The more advanced materials seem to come from a byproduct of this process. I'd probably need a Stark or a Richards to explain how it works. I have no idea how it fabricates the more advanced things, like the gas or the contents of the mass concussion rounds. Maybe a byproduct of the consumption process." He says offhandedly as the quarrel is no more.

Huntress watches the quarrel disappear into the Omnitool like a banana peel into a Mr. Fusion. "Damn. That's pretty cool." She would LOVE to ask how Dragnet managed to get his hands on something that useful, but she remembers his comment about well-meaning people being nosy and stifles the urge to ask. "I'll definitely start saving quarrels for you. Bolts too, if you want. They're wooden."

Dragnet chuckles. "Makes some other cool things too. Medical supplies, tracers, cables. Its pretty good about finding ways to make most of the things I've asked of it. It was harder in the beginning, but I'm not sure how much I could do on my own without the suit. Especially without my own miniature factory here." In some ways it does make him a little embarrassed. He's admitted that the tech might not be completely his, but not to the full extent. "If you don't mind. I also find it does wonders for not leaving evidence. That's why you always see me gathering canister cartridges and sabots when I can. They usually are fully expended, but even the remaining metal can be useful." He rises to his feet, shaking out his arm. "Bat-Bot indeed."

Huntress moves to stand also, watching that arm-shaking movement curiously, but again not commenting on it. "Wait, what? Bat-bot? Who called you that? Talk about a goofball nickname." Like Stig-bot isn't?

In truth, he's stiff. His movements are a bit slowed. He's been sleeping in the armor again, wherever he can. It's not like as a vagrant he has that many options. Stashing the armor in places he worked once worked, but he's starting to get a name, get a reputation. Eventually, the need for secrecy will win out over comfort. "Kid called Spoiler. Helped me and Nightwing and one of those archer types stop a bank robbery. Maybe she thought I worked for the Bat. Seems to be what most people assume. Either that or I'm some dejected Stark Employee, or maybe a Hammer Industries goon with a conscience. It's goofy but, felt kind of good. That someone thought I was professional enough, good enough to do the job. Like maybe I had earned this." He says with a bit of a laugh, a sharp exhalation of air. "Don't worry, sticking to Dragnet. It's the name I was first given, and the one I'll stay with."

"Good. I like Dragnet better. Makes me think of that cop show from the sixties." Okay, she HAS to ask. Huntress tilts her head a bit then offers as non-confrontationally as she can, "You okay, there? You're moving like you took a hit and then stayed still too long." Dude, be honored. She's /trying/.

Dragnet smiles behind the faceplate, shakes his head. "Yeah, the Internet gave me that name. Like I was some kind of grand covert tool of law enforcement I guess. Seemed cool, and my dad liked that show. So I guess it stuck." As she asks the question though, he is silent for a long time. "No hits. This thing can stop assault weapons fire, at least for a few shots." He rolls his arm again, tilts his neck back and forth. "I just didn't sleep well last night." To be more accurate, he curled up in a storage unit.

Huntress is a little too astute for her own good. "You sleep in that thing too often, I'm thinking. And if you're doing that, I'm guessing that's 'cause your HQ is compromised. I have a safe house not too far away you're welcome to use if you want." Technically, it's Helena Bertinelli's apartment, but Dragnet doesn't have to know that.

Dragnet removes one of the hands of the armor, flesh and blood for once visible beneath the inky black of nano-kevlar and reinforced joints. There is a slight sag in his posture, almost as if carrying the world. "My HQ can't be compromised unless I take it off." There, he's said it. Or at least part of it. What conclusions she draws from it are her own to make now that its in open air.

Well, well. That's one suspicion confirmed. "You can't stay in that thing 24/7. That can't be healthy. Look, it's quiet out and I think I'm gonna call it. You want to go with me, the safe house has a spare bedroom."

Dragnet shakes the hand, squeezes it to restore a hint of circulation. "It's actually not bad. It's where I sleep more than what I sleep in that causes the stiffness. Still, if you are offering, I suppose I can just this once." He pauses though, stepping back once. His hands resting at his sides even as the other AIDOS gauntlet and hand is held by the other. "Helmet stays on though, no matter what." In someways, the Stig Helm is his face. The one he wishes he had all the time. He wants to be, has to be, Dragnet. Even if he's allowed to sleep in someone else's house.

Huntress scoffs. "Don't flatter yourself. You can lock yourself in, I know I'm going to." She gestures at her own mask. "This is NOT comfortable sleepwear." She gestures with a headtilt for Dragnet to follow her, her Ducati concealed relatively nearby. "The kitchen is self service, though I'm not really sure how much there is to be had there. Probably mostly non-perishables."

Dragnet puts back on the other gauntlet, a slight...(is that what one would call pep?) in his step. "Honestly, just because I COULD sneak around in your house undetected doesn't mean I would." He points out, raising a single obsidian finger. "Besides, you seem to be the one who cares about my well being, and people who care tend to be curious. It's a valid precaution." There is a slight pause as she mentions a self-service kitchen. "Mmmm, macaroni and cheese from the box. Just like Mom used to make." Could it be, that underneath the cowardice and the sense of purpose and all that, Dragnet could be a real person?

Huntress hehs. "Just don't eat the last thing of chicken Ramen or I'll cut you." Yes, that was quite clearly a joke. She de-conceals the motorcycle (which mostly consists of a black tarp made from a fairly matte fabric) then takes a moment to make the minor modifications to the bike's tail that allow it to carry a passenger. "You ever ride a bike before?"

He's stolen more than a few, actually. But he thinks this is probably not the best time to bring that up. He looks at the bike, then at her. "I am assuming you are driving, so...where exactly do I put my hands?" There's no smarm, no lechery. If anything, that genuine fear for his life is starting to creep in. She would cut him for _far_ less.

Huntress throws one leg over the bike, produces a key from her belt and starts the engine, giving it a chance to purr for a moment. She takes a moment to pull her cape around her side so it's not going to be in Dragnet's way, then says, "Safest option is the belt." Yeah, the belt with as many doodads on it as one of the Bat's ilk would normally boast.

No capes! This is one of the more useful maxims Dragnet has learned. For some, its an accessory, for others its a tool. Dragnet finds it entirely more likely its going to be something he would trip and fall and die on. Slip onto the back of the bike he does, belt sought and grasped. "Liar. There is no safe option with you." He opines, even as they drive off into the night.

The cape is kept well under control. The hair, not so much. And Huntress apparently believes in driving FAST. Fortunately, or maybe because of the way she drives the bike like it's a fighter jet, they reach the 'safe house' location soon enough. "End of the road." It's an old brownstone, one of the kinds converted into a kind of posh apartment building, with a small line of attached garages. A press on part of the bike's control panel and one of the doors starts to open, revealing a completely bland and nondescript little Japanese sedan already resting inside. She cuts the Ducati's engine and pushes it into the garage and into hiding behind what's made to look like a stack of packing and storage boxes.

Dragnet actually breathes once he's off the bike. "You are insane, you know that? I'm grateful and all, but you are certifiably crazy, at least where speed is concerned." He says, stepping off the bike and shaking his head. One of the benefits of the AIDOS, it already provides a helmet. "I was expecting more gangster heads on spikes. Or maybe a pool of the blood of the wicked. Something more..I don't know, intimidating?" He asks. Shoulders roll as he taps a few buttons on the side of the omnitool, and it beeps in response. "Well. That's the gas canisters done at least." He says after walking inside of the garage. Stealth mode is completely engaged, just so the neighbors don't gossip about strange armored shadows in her home. It could happen!

Huntress triggers the garage door to close. "Best way to hide. So plain and ordinary it would make Ben Stein yawn in boredom. And would you rather I drive like Miss Daisy on a moped?" She scoffs, and once the garage door is closed again steps over to one of two doors. One looks like a regular door, the other like it's supposed to lead to a storage closet or some such. Instead, the inside contains only a ladder set into the wall and leading up to the top floor of the brownstone. "Close the door behind you then follow me up." She climbs quickly but nearly silently, then at the top climbs out into another closet with a water heater acting as camouflage. "Oh, and you tell anyone about all of this, and it'll be worse than eating my Ramen." The closet leads out to a completely normal apartment, though again perhaps a bit on the bland side.

Dragnet simply smiles languidly. Following, mapping, noting. Instinct wedding with software to keep in mind the defensiveness, the concealability of this place. Not bad, probably what he would do if he ever had money for more than food. The invisible, barely noticeable form of Dragnet moves almost in her shadow as she walks. "Even if I would, no one to tell. The only people I actually have conversations with are in the same business, and we all more or less have the same rules about Cape and Cowl anyway." He's gone entire days speaking no more than a handful of words to another soul. Affirmations, rejections, clarifications, little more.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. So, guest room is this way." Huntress leads him down the short hallway with the kitchen and living room visible past the end, and opens a door on the opposite wall from the water heater closet/laundry room. "Bathroom's this door here." Same side as the laundry room, and closest to the living room area. "Living room, dining room, kitchen." And potted plants. Lots of them.

Nodding, nodding, continuing to follow even as she acquaints Dragnet with the safehouse. He looks at the plants though, thoughtfully. Long, drawn out glances as she points these things out. "You have a lovely ho...safe house." He corrects.

Huntress hehs. "Eh. It works. I'm gonna turn in." She goes back down the hallway to the last door past the laundry closet. "No wild parties, my neighbors are mostly nine to five types. Capice? Talk to you in the morning." Note, she didn't say 'see'. The door closes after her quietly and is punctuated by the soft click of a very basic lock. More of a token gesture than anything, really.

So many precautions, a modest pride. An idea, a possible suspicion forming in his mind. "Right." He says, in reference to her 'rule'. He goes towards his own bedroom, locks the door. The armor relaxes from its traditional hardness, becoming no more obtrusive to sleep in than a shirt and pants. The helmet requires some adjustment as he finds some way to make it work. He sleeps as he often moves...camouflaged, invisible. "Good night." He says to the bedroom, perhaps the walls poorly soundproofed, but more likely it is merely a symbolic gesture.