Chaos at Cold Stone

October 3, 2014: Ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery turns to chaos; takes place after Holy Suicidal Sidekicks Batman!

All-Night Cold Stone Creamery — NYC

Welcome to Cold Stone creamery! It's a confectioner's paradise! With over
50 flavours of ice cream that can be combined with 10 flavours of candy the
possibilities are virtually endless!

The place itself is white white white. In fact, if it weren't for the
colourful candy in a neat line up behind the counter, it might look like a
hospital. There's a bar adjacent to the counter, for those ice cream eaters
that just wanna pretend they're adults in a pub (but with ice cream), and
tables with uncomfortable chairs that line the rest of the establishment.



  • Joker thugs

Mood Music:

The ride from Gotham was relatively uneventful, aside from Robin's driving of the Redbird. He'd taken corners faster than he probably should have. Mostly because he feels weird about this whole thing. But then, Damian did tell Darcy that he likes ice cream sundaes, right?

The caped sidekick stands in line and inspects the flavours with some interest, although his nose wrinkles at some of the combinations. "This place is confusing — " he stares at the ice cream flavours. "I'll just have vanilla, I think?" it's a question rather than an actual decision. Mostly because Tim feels very lost in this world of ice cream. Alfred picks up the ice cream at the Wayne residence.

His gloved hands press against the glass of the counter and he eyes each of the flavours before shrugging. "That's probably a thing right?"

Darcy spent the car ride sitting on her hands. Because the urge to reach out and touch buttons was hard to fight down and Darcy knew just enough to know that in fuck-inducing cars of caped and masked super powered hotties, you do NOT touch buttons at random.

You wait until they seem interested enough to offer said buttons for the pushing. The literal ones. Always check where the figurative ones are.

Once in the ice cream shop, Darcy watches Robin with the look of a college grad eyeing a high schooler.

"Seriously? You're confused by ice cream?" she blurts out, hand on a hip. And then she's stepping to Tim's side.

"Look, Bird-for-Brains. It's simple. Pick a base flavor, then tell them to add whatever of this other stuff you want, and then die from a diabetic coma," she explains, looping her arm into his to drag him about the display to show him. And then to look at the attendant and smile.

"I'll take Cookie Doughn't You Want Some," she says to the young man, giving her very best smile. Wide and slightly maniac and maybe she's fresh out of a cosplay event and this is her boyfriend smile.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Maybe Robin is having an aneurysm. His lips part wordlessly at the explanation and he just blinks back at her, altogether unsure of what's gone on and whether he needs to worry about it. "Uh — " he starts, his words obviously getting eaten by his more base feelings. "That's incredibly specific," he says towards Darcy. "Also, I'm not Bird-for-Brains… I could leave you here." It's matter-of-fact, and he wonders if she'll buy it. He's not exactly the leave a girl at the ice cream store type, but maybe she'll believe him.

He looks at the flavours and frowns. "Who names these things?" he finally asks with a wry arch of his eyebrow. "I love ice cream, but seriously — " Evidently this is hurting his sensibilities. Or maybe his credibility as Robin.

With a sigh he looks down the list and then says, "Uh. I'll get an…" he squints, "…All Lovin' No Oven…" he makes a face after saying it, evidently Robin really isn't sold on the names.

"Of course it's specific," Darce replies, laughing at his Bird-for-Brains rebuttle. "Uh-huh. Leave me here, I don't buy you ice cream, Rob," is the retort. Because Darcy doesn't believe him or is close enough to 'home' to not be bothered one bit.

"I think some office types who haven't seen the sun in three damn days names them. It sounds so sad. OOh! No Oven. SOOOOoooo yummy."

"Yeaaaah, it sounds good. But seriously. The name." Robin heaves a long sigh and slides forward. "Don't call me Bird-for-Brains and you'll still get driven." He hmmms quietly. "So. I have no idea what your name is. What should I call you, Lady?"

"Sass Mastah D!" Darcy says, beaming brightly, sing-songing. "Or Darcy. Just not Lewis. God, I get enough of that at work." She wrinkles her nose as she mimicks someone at SHIELD: "LEWIS! Floor 18 needs more paperclips. LEWIS! Mailroom's out of rubber bands. LEWIS! Get highlighters to Accounts Recieveable!" She sticks out her tongue. "I swear. Def Con 5 for a box of staples," she adds, back in her normal voice, laughing at her life. "So, Sass, Darce, or Darcy… Or Hey You with the Tits. That works too."

"Here's my number, so you can also call me Maybe…" And Darcy's giggling.

"Is that a name?" Sas Mastah D. Robin is skeptical, but she wins a smile anyways. "Not Lewis. Got it. So Darcy then." He nods once. He chuckles at the number. "Vorpal wasn't kidding, you know. I sort of do have someone. It's complicated" he shrugs. "Most things are when you run around town with a cape."

He pushes on his mask. "But it's a functional cape. And a functional mask. Mostly."

"So you told me," Darcy says as she reaches out to tug tug on the cape gently. "Very epic falling with style. Russian judge gave that shit a ten. And that's cool. I'm equal opportunity, while being very respectful. You got a girl, that's cool. I'm sure she's not guano-crazy," Darcy adds on a wink.

"She's not," Robin grins and then pauses. "At least, I don't think she is." His smile grows as he nods. "And at least I could win over the Russian judge." He smirks again before shuffling forward. "Wait. Is this the Russian judge I bribed or the other one? Because I've been told that matters." His eyes narrow behind his mask and he shrugs. "So you do roller derby? What else is there to know about you Darcy?"

Laughing, Darcy shoulder bumps Tim. "The other one. She's sweet on your butt," she informed him with a serious sort of sagenod. Reaching out for her ice cream, Darcy puts a spoonful into her mouth and talks immediately after. "Used to. No time for it now, though May's okay with me starting to practice and run trails instead of stupid PT in the mornings. Seriously! Who wants to wake up at five in the morning to punch a bag?" A pause to eat another bite.

"And there's tons to know about me. You could write a fucking kid's novel. One whole chapter: 'And then she hit him with the car'."

Tim smirks. "Oh. Well it's good to know I still have some… assets." He smirks again. Yup, Tim is a giant dork who uses puns. He actually beams after saying his pun. A total win for the dad-jokes. "Who is May? That sounds awful. I train a lot too, but 5 am is like… bed time." His smile turns crooked as the ice cream sundaes are finally set in front of the pair of them. "You know, even with the dumb name, I still like ice cream." Stupid Damian.

The notion of the novel, however, has Robin's head canting to the side. "Wait. You hit some guy your car?"

Darcy is totally the dork that laughs at punny dad-jokes. "Adorkable," she quips before answering the questions. "May's my SO. Ball and chain. Ninja Nanny." Darcy pauses and looks behind her, then around the palour, then under the table and then behind the ice cream cake fridge… just for good measure. "And she's not being a ninja righ tnow, so I'll live to see Monday. And no. -I- didn't hit him with the car. I just tazed his ass." Yup. Proud.

"Oh! Your SO. So… like your significant other? Huh," Robin nods a little and then watches as she peeks about the entire ice cream parlour. "It's a big city. I'm pretty sure you're safe. Most people don't see anyone they know just by chance." He shrugs. "Wait. You tazed someone?" There's a pause. "So you really do have a tazer?"

"Of course I have a tazer! Duh!" Darcy quips, before grinning. "Oh. No. Not my girlfriend. Ninja Nanny's prolly got cobwebs down there. Not that I wouldn't happy hit that if it came at me and I wasn't terrified that she'd kill bme after…." More icecream in mouth. "Don't YOU have a tazer?"

Tim shovels his ice cream with his spoon before taking a giant glob and putting it in his mouth. Around the cold treat, he talks, knowing full well that Alfred would never approve if he was home. "Yeah, ohf coursh I do." He manages around the cold dessert. After swallowing, he speaks a little easier, "But you don't fight crime." Pause. "Do you?"

"Not if I can help it!" Darcy says, sounding almost affronted. "I've seen some of the paperwork that has to get filled out on that shit. No fucking thank you!" Darcy eats her ice cream with complete calm for a long moment before… "Besides, I'd make all the Supers jealous. These girls, in tight leather. You do the math."

Tim lifts his hands up in the air to show he's not armed. And then he turns a healthy pink at the notion of the girls in tight leather. "Uh." He doesn't do any math, and instead becomes very very interested in his ice cream. Which he stares at. Because it's safer than looking at the girls in leather. He coughs. "Right. So. You just carry a taser to have a taser."

"I'm a realist. If a drunk jackass is gonig to try to grab my ass and refuses to step back, I'm going to turn him into a drooling pile of stupid on the ground by my feet," she says, lifting her chin in complete and comfortable pride. She uses her spoon to point at Tim, emphasizing. "I'm not a fucking damsel in distress that pines for a hero to fly in out of no where and safe her from every little fucking thing. A white knight's hot, great for a ride into the sunset, but I don't go looking for trouble — not a word about Gotham and the outfit, I got lost so shut the fuck up. That said, I'm not going to turn DOWN a rescue, but I'm not about to faint and fade away if someone gets into my face. I'm going to protect myself, and a razer's just lethal enough to drop 'em without killin' em."

Tim's lips part wordlessly. She told him to shut up. He won't say a thing and instead just nods silently for a few beats while shovelling more ice cream into his mouth. It's not until he's swallowed and she's been silent for awhile that he manages. "But a good right hook can null any need for a taser. So can some great self-defence moves. Honest. I don't use much aside from my training. Started martial arts many years ago and it just happens to be the best tool in my belt." Another pun. Good job, Tim! "Plus the other stuff is just noise without the rest.

Darcy eyes Tim. Her lips pursing. It's like.. .she's trying to place him. "…You and fucking May." She sighs and eats more ice cream. "I'm getting self-defense classes, and I can throw a punch without breaking my hand…"

He's being looped with this May person. "Well. She's right, isn't she? If you don't need anything else, then you're better off? You're not going to forget your fists or feet at home," Tim shrugs and then eats some more ice cream. "And it's about more than not breaking your hand. It's knowing where to hit. So. Joints. Sensitive places. Wherever you need in order to get away." He shrugs again. "Simple, really. And to be honest, I try to knock the bad guys out, but a person doesn't need to do that if they want to avoid the paperwork."

"of course she's right. That's why she kicks ass and I deliver staples," Darcy replies with only a tiny bit of grump. "Well, easy for you to say Mr. The Mask. You likely don't stick around long enough to help with the paperwork. I don't do paperwork either. I just provide the staples."

"Ha! It's true. I never do the paperwork. Not something the Bat-folks get up to," Tim notes with a wrinkle of his nose and another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. "You like working wherever you work, then?" he asks after swallowing again. "This is very good despite it's very dumb name."

"I'm waiting for them to make Chocolate Orgasm. I've suggested it repeatedly. No dice," Darcy states as she finishes for her last bite. "And it's good. Better than my intership. Just as whacky. Only a little fewer rips in space-time."
"Chocolate — " Tim doesn't repeat the last word for fear of turning bright red. "Well then. Do you suggest it to someone who has influence? Because it could probably sell. If they could put it on their sign. Is stuff like that not allowed on signs?" He nods at the last. "Your internship was wacky? Who'd you intern with?"

"I put it in the website flavor submission. If I got paid enough, I'd order it special. But, entry level paid sucks more like hell." Ice cream finished, she wipes her mouth, taking off the tiniest hint of her red lipstick (Revlon Everstay, baby!!!) and wadding it up into the cardstock bowl.

"You prolly don't know her. Science geek to the max. Way too sciency for even the science nerds, since no one had applied to her internship and I ended up landing it. Which was way stupid, since I was a PoliSci, ya know?"

Robin squints and is unsure whether he understood anything about the internship, but he nods just the same. Even if he can't follow, he's going to pretend he can, partially because sometimes that's just wiser. "So… you're not a scientist then?" There's a pause. "I don't think I understand what you do." There's another pause. "I fight crime at night. The night job is the one that matters to me. Don't care about the day one," his grades aren't even suffering for it. "But you have a weird job. 5 am training. You have to take self-defence. You care a taser. You supply staples. And your major was PoliSci. Seriously, Darcy, your life is an unusual collection of things. I'm guessing you do desk work somewhere that works with… criminals. FBI, maybe?" he arches an eyebrow.

As if SUDDENLY taking the time to think through what she's going to say, Darcy smiles almost coyly. "I'm not sure I'm supposed to talk about it in a huge about of detail? I mean, I work Office Supplies. It's very important, but promotions need physical training and it's a bitch. And no, I don't do 5am training. But yes, my life is weird. I go on dates with Capes, Masks, Icicle-pop boys, Twin Eating whackos, Destructofeet Density changer guys, and I'm hot for a greek god. Work is SO the calm spot of my life," she laughs, leaning back like she's at ease talking to Tim about this, like… because he wears a mask and a cape and fights crime at night, she can confide in him.

"And Rob..? Half the time, -I- don't understand what I do. But… I do it anyway, because I can and I'm needed and…. it pays the bills."

"…and the student loans. Oh, GOD the Student Loans."

There's a snicker as Robin finishes his ice cream and follows suit. "Well it's good to know I'm just another fellow in a long string of unusual dates for you, Darcy." Tim tosses his container into the trash and then treads back towards his ice cream companion. "The world is a curious place," he finally manages.

"And it's interesting that you work at such a weird place. But Office Supplies doesn't seem that intensive. The training though, for someone who watches the staples — " he frowns just a little. "I train all the time. It's not so bad, plus it keeps a fella on his game."

"Aliens from another planet might attach the world for our staple supply. It might be a natural resource for them, and something they are willing to subtergate the Earth for. I'm the only thing that can protect those staples…. And deliver them to Fred in time for him to get the expense reports filed, apparently," Darcy says, some how managing to sound completely serious.

And then she cracks up and stands to pat Robin on the back and use that to pull herself close enough to tip-toe another cheek to his cheek.

"I'm shitting with you. But as far as my crazy-ass dates go, this has totally been the most normal one of the bunch. Even if it's going to end with you tossing me out the window of your hot-as-hell car near my apartment building."

The seriousness of Darcy's tone is enough to make Tim freeze again. His gloved hands drop to his side and his eyebrows draw together while his forehead creases behind his mask. There's no obvious twitching there, but he's trying to assess whether she's crazy and he should be taking her to Arkham Asylum. Is it at all possible that Harley Quinn got a major face lift? Well there's a lot of things that are possible and so it isn't until she cracks up that his expression eases.

And then she's close again prompting more freezing and discomfort. He needs to find a way to be more comfortable around women. The excuse I suck at girls probably won't fly all of the time. So he forces himself to smile. Which looks sort of ridiculous when he's this uncomfortable. In fact, it looks sort of like a grimace more than a smile. Come on, Tim, at least try to enjoy the closeness.

"Why would I do that…" there's a pause. "…I don't think I've ever thrown someone out my window…"

"Because you're as tense as the Chess Club President at prom with the Head Cheerleader while the Captain of the football team fumes in the corner," she says, moving to massage Tim's shoulders. "And you seem like you want to get me out of your fuck, what hte hell is this shit? Kevlar, or what? God damn, dude. It'd look hot on my bedroom floor. But it's okay. I understand. You're taken. I'd still rock your world. Her world too. You can even leave the mask on. That'd be a new one for me, and I'm try-sexual, so… I'll let you know if it's hot or just plain dorkarrific," she says leaving off the massage (which was horrible, mind you) to toss her arm over his shoulders and start toward the air with an air of completely chaste friendliness.

"You have GOT to loosen up around girls, man. That smile… terrifying."

The very uncomfortable Boy Wonder is frozen underneath Darcy's massaging. Frozen, and quite possibly, terrified. Evidently his kryptonite isn't in the way of criminals, evil-doers, or stones from far off worlds. No, women who get in his space and touch him seem to be a problem. Especially when they touch him. Even more so when they say they want to see his Kevlar on their bedroom floor.

"Y-yeah, I'm taken, and I don't like being slapped much, and Spoiler, well she's the slapping kind — " Robin notes as he cants his head to watch Darcy. Of course, when she starts to divulge her try-sexuality, Robin turns five shades of red very very quickly. His face is hot. His ears are hot. His neck is hot. He may never remember what it is to be cool.

With her arm draped around his shoulders, he sort of freezes again, wondering whether the utter humiliation and discomfort are over.

At insane-o-clock in the morning, when Normal and Reasonable have long since said Eff It All and gone to bed, there's an all night Cold Stone Creamry (don't ask. No one knows. It just happens.) from which a Boy Wonder named Robin in his mask and cape is being led by a Darcy Lewis. Who has her arm over his shoulders, chattering away happily.

"I only slap when asked nicely, unless I'm feeling twisted and the asker seems to wait it too badly. Then, there's no telling WHERE my mind ends up. But that aside, you really need to - wait. SPOILER? Really?" Darcy snark, turning her head to look at Tim in the mask (because she can't see his eyes! They are totally Tuxedo Mask blue. No one's goingto convince Darce otherwise.).

"God. First Robin, then Batman, Nightwing, now SPOILER? Sweet fucking monkey Jesus, Robs! I mean… yikes!"

Melinda May keeps very strange hours, it's part of the job description. And when she's just returned from another milk run (essentially), she makes a quick note of local SHIELD-based events and notices a particular name absent from the most recent training missions. Tracking down a particular Ms. Lewis really isn't all the difficult, even without hacking her phone to get a bead on its GPS location.

Thus, at ass-o'clock, when a rather typically bizarrely dressed Darcy steps out of that all-night Cold Stone with her arm over the shoulders of a similarly oddly-dressed young man, May is waiting for them, leaning against the corner of the building with her arms crossed. Oh, and just to see how much backbone Lewis can muster, she didn't change into her civvies. "Sweet what, Lewis?"

"That's her name," Robin counters as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Same with Nightwing and Batman. And my bar is the Redbird. These are the real names of these things." There's a pause. "Nightwing's car is called Nightbird." There's another pause. "Of course… I named it when I was like fourteen. So." He shrugs. Like that makes the name okay.

"But these are our names." There's a pause. "I didn't choose Robin." He falls into step with Darcy, even though she's draped over him, but his face hasn't eased up on the blush. Not yet, anyways. But he freezes when Melinda May seems to be know Darcy. His head turns and he asks, "Friend of yours?"

Darcy's laughing at Robin, nodding and rolling her eyes and being happily draped on him because the ice cream is helping the buzz she had going hours ago.

"Fourteen? Are you shitting me? What are you now? Oh, God. Please say you're eigh-" Darcy stumbles a bit at the sound of May's voice and Robin going anchor on her.

Darcy looks over at May, while stage whispering at Robin: "Ninja Nanny."

To May, Darcy repeats herself: "Sweet. Fucking. Monkey. Jesus…. Ma'am," she says with complete seriousness. Because SHIELD Agents are supposed to be able to say completely ridiculous sounding things with a straight face. Too bad Darcy's not fully trained, because she can't control the snort-giggle. Maybe drinking and late night ice cream makes Darcy too reckless for a back bone. "I heard that, Lewis." May straightens away from the wall of the Cold Stone to take a step or two toward Darcy-rocking-the-clown-outfit and Robin-clearly-Gothamite-vigilante. "Does this explain why you've missed two training missions in a row?" Her eyes flick over toward the young man in the mask and size him up with the ease of someone long since trained to do so before they focus on Lewis again.

"I'm over eighteen," Robin deadpans back towards Darcy, even though she didn't finish her thought. Yeah, he's been at this Robin thing for awhile — long enough to give Nightwing's car a ridiculous name when he was still a kid.

The mention of Ninja Nanny warrants a vague upturn of Robin's lips, he finds himself more at ease now that Darcy isn't purposely trying to make him uncomfortably and he manages to straighten. "Wait. You have training missions? That is so cool." And then he offers a boyish grin towards May, "Hello." He looks between Darcy and May and then shakes his head, "Nooooo. No. I have a girlfriend. It's complicated." Pause. "But she's real. I just," he points towards Darcy, "was bringing her home — "

"I checked my schedule! I haven't been on roster for training anythings! It's my night off! Can't a girl go watch a bout without being drilled about it?" Darcy laments, arm coming down off Robin's shoulders as she tries to defend herself.

"Did you email it or something, cuz, seriously May. I had the night off!" Her eyes are a bit wide, voice a little high as her heart races a bit.

Melinda May quirks an eyebrow at Robin's attempt to explain (and subsequent utter failure), then seemingly calmly watches Darcy start to freak out. "No, they weren't today." Though Lewis's requested night off meant she missed the (dubious?) honor of getting to join the others on the Bus to retrieve an agent from overseas. "The next one has been scheduled, though. Check your email when you get a chance." She looks at Robin again, and gives him a nod before apparently shifting her weight in preparation to enter the ice cream shop the pair just exited. Maybe.

The stillness of the creamery is shattered by a manic laugh and a flury of automatic gunfire. One of the displays absolutely shatters and the horrified attendants dive for cover. Near the door stands a certain tall, pale, green haired man in a purple pinstripe suit holding what looks like a gold plated AK-74. With him are various assault rifle armed thugs wearing body armor and clown masks.

"Alright! Listen up and no one gets hurt that I don't randomly decide to shoot! I want all the rocky road in the place and a scoop of mint on a waffle co- Harley? Weren't you going to go see the girls?"

It's a decent likeness of course and the Joker's only seeing Darcy from the back. There's not much chance he won't realize it's not who he thinks it is when she turns around. He doesn't seem to have recognized his second favorite martial artist yet either.

Robin just shrugs his shoulders at the quirked eyebrow; almost like he's used to people quirking eyebrows at him as answers to things he says. Or explanations he gives. Or generally talking about anything. Maybe he just has a lot of dubious folks in his life. He nods back towards May before glancing back to Darcy, "Don't miss your train — " but gunfire is enough to eat the words as the Boy Wonder turns around to the now getting-shot-up-creamery.

As he spins, the arm around his shoulder is, rather inadvertently shrugged off, and Robin reaches for Darcy's wrist to dive-pull her behind the Redbird, which is conveniently parked outside the Creamery. This may or may not look like Robin is capturing Harley Quinn.

You know… Darcy squeaks a little like the Clown Princess. It's sharp, it's high pitched, and it's an indignant sounding: "Hey!" Of course, gunfire is starting to be something Darcy's mostly used to? SHIELD Training. FUN things. She doesn't fight Robin pulling her behind cover, arms going over her head and her torso curling up so her arms protect her ribs. Self-defense one-oh-one, or something. Joker's voice was heard, of course, but didn't immediately register. Since she's not Harley, and there's gunfire. Hopefully, she'll remember to check her email in a few hours. If, you know, she survives.

Oh sweet fucking monkey Jesus. The moment the gunfire starts up May throws herself back against the side of the building as she reaches for her phone to call it in to the local police. But then she hears THAT LAUGH. Her expression goes hard and she instead just taps at the phone's screen quickly for a second before pocketing the device again and pulling something from a different pocket in her vest. Something fabric-like.

The roar of a motorcycle engine does a good job drowning out most things, even with as much ambient noise as this damn city puts out. It's a particular blessing when one's hearing is acute enough to pick up every argument for a block or two, every fucking car horn for god knows HOW far, and everything the people one passes on the street think counts a 'music'; whether through car stereo or earbuds. Automatic weapon fire (or maybe that flamin' laugh), though? That breaks even the most sacrosanct revving reverie for the Canucklehead, and he rather abruptly accelerates down the last span of street, zipping between traffic and skidding around the corner to roar down the block occupied by the ice cream parlor favored, it seems, by the diverse assortment of SHIELD operatives, teen vigilantes, and crazed clowns craving chocolate; also, mint.

The Wolverine guides a deep red, black, and chrome chopper that used to be an Indian decades upon decades ago down past the Red Bird and the crouching compatriots, taking one steady Mario Kart style death glare to assess the situation before he turns hard, throttles up harder, and ramps right into and through the Creamery's front windows with alarming precision, skidding his bike across the slick floor and ditching it in a topsy-turvy spin that one could be forgiven for thinking was absolutely /intended/ to rip a brutal line right at (if not through) the Joker and his gunmen. It also provides one -hell- of a distraction for the rest of the patrons to get to cover— and makes Wolverine the obvious target as he picks himself up from the painful (understatement) impact, growling low. Orchestrated chaos works wonders on the side of the angels, too.

The Joker rolls out of the way with surprising dexterity, snapping off a burst as Wolverine goes by. The huge modified Indian ploughs though a pair of thugs though at least tonight the Clown Prince doesn't seem to have any shortage of them. Momentarily forgetting the ice cream, they devote all the bullets to Logan.

The Clown prince himself hops up on Robin's car and looks down. "Getting caught by a Bat-Bird isn't your style Har- wait, you're not Harley."

The pale man peers down as if unsure whether to be amused or angry that someone's aping his Harley. His eyes slide off Darcy and over to Robin with a malicious grin as he levels that gun at him. "So, got a thing for bad clown girls. You know maybe just this once I should let Harley bring home a few toys…"

When the motorcycle passes them to fly into the creamery, Robin reaches to his belt for his trusty staff. The short club is given a good shake, and with the movement it extends to its full length. Determination colours over his expression. And it's a good thing that muscle memory and reaction go hand in hand. Because in short order, the Joker is standing on top of his car.

Not the Redbird. No one disrespects the Redbird.

Even with a gun levelled at him, Robin is straightening and reaching out with the staff, swinging it as quickly as he can in order to knock the Joker off his feet. "Darcy, get your taser — " At this moment Tim really hopes the taser is real and wasn't a joke.

Oh, the tazer was no joke. Her purse might have been child's department small, but it was still big enough to carry her favored 'weapon'.

"Yup," she says as she pulls the item from her purse and moves to her feet with just enough grace to speak of practice getting up from her knees in a hurry.

And all of you are sick puppies, because that is NOT what I meant!

"Wow. I am so never wearing this outfit again ever. Unless I'm loknig to be mistaken for an evil clown girl. Which is cool, a little, but no! And he's name's Robin, Chuckles," Darcy tells Joker. because apparently only Darcy will allow Darcy to call Robin really bad bird themed nicknames.

Melinda May takes advantage of Logan's VERY ostentatious arrival and the Joker's attention on Darcy and her masked friend to get the narrow sash of black silk spinning at a near-blinding speed before taking a couple of quick steps toward the Redbird and shooting the sash whip at the Clown. Somehow her aim is good enough to snake the weighted silk between Darcy and Robin as they both stand to confront the Joker. She's aiming to disarm or incapacitate the green-haired villain, but if she hits him in the head or breaks some bones she won't loose ANY sleep over it.

It's exactly the way he wanted it. Wolverine doesn't even -try- to dodge. The leather jacket and grey tanktop he's wearing get torn to bloody shreds as round after round rips into him, leaving wounds that would kill any other man five times over. The grin he's wearing has absolutely no humor to it, but it lingers even as the intensity of the fire proves enough to stagger him, forced back whilst weathering the concerted fire and crashing hard into a booth. One bullet-riddled arm defiantly shoves off that barricade, however, and he /throws/ himself back into the fray with a pronounced snarl, apparently satisfied to keep the Joker's goonsquad occupied— /thoroughly/ occupied. Their own satisfaction may vary, however.

The stereo, nigh-synchronous *SNIKT* amidst the flying tackle is lost to the rampant gunfire, but an important detail to explain the two dozen stab wounds that dot the closest clown-masked gunman's torso before the pair of them actually hit the ground, hard. The old mutant is harder to hit now, harder to pin down with fire, and misshapen bullets are already popping out of rapidly sealing wounds all over his body as he slides in low on the flank of the next in line.. and costs the suddenly screaming shooter the arm attached to his trigger finger with a vertical cross of adamantium razors.

The Joker is knocked off his feet by the staff at the same time as May's Sash grabs his gold plated AK (which he stole from the Russian mob). He rolls off the car and comes up with a buttferly knife - which is bad - and a paintball pistol? One shot though at Dacy's feet reveals that this isn't an ordinary pistol. The 'paintballs' relase clouds of hallucinagenic gas.

"That is exactly what I was saying," Robin reiterates to Darcy as he spins his staff, ready to dance. "And this is exactly why I was driving you home — " a decision that undoubtedly he's going to have to defend to one of those funky named people in his life.

The butterfly knife has Robin leaning forward, "Give up now, Joker. Let's get you back to Arkham. It'll be like going home again — " but the thing about gas of any kind is that it's not isolated. It spreads. Which could be why Tim's head begins to feel a little foggy. But he shakes his head, fighting it as best he can. Squinting, he looks back towards Not-Harley and spins his staff again, she's looking a lot more like Harley Quinn with each passing minute. "It's a trap!" he utters, doing his best Admiral Ackbar impression. Because, obviously Darcy was Harley all along and he didn't notice.

The gas hits at her feet and the cloud that surrounds her makes her cough. Staggering back a few steps, she looks up, swaying as the world goes …aquafina. This is a bad trip. And there's Johnny Dep! As the Madhatter.

"Can I have your aut- fuck me!" Darcy cusses as Robin spins the staff and it catches her attention. Tazer in hand… Darcy pulls the trigger.

This is why we can't have nice Vigilantes.

Who was Darcy aiming for again? I forgot.

Melinda May is just far enough back that when she sees the gas puff up around Darcy she has time to hold her breath and get upwind of the stuff. But now Joker's gone and done it. In May's mind, the only thing worse than attacking a junior SHIELD agent would be attacking Coulson, Hill, or Fury. The kid gloves are officially off.

Letting the sash fall to the ground, she pulls a pair of tiny rods from one of the many concealed pockets on her person and snaps the weapons to full baton length before charging the Clown. The tips of these batons are pronged with taser-like zappers based off of Romanoff's Widow's Bite bracelets.

The gunmen in the creamery remain Logan's primary concern— at least for as long as it takes the burly runt to deal with that threat. He draws fire down along the countertop for several feet before vaulting back out from behind it with surprising agility, given his aforementioned frame. He comes down between two more gunmen, scattering pieces of gun hither and fro as the adamantium blades on his fists cleave the arms in twain— and then take each in the arm and the leg quickly enough that one stroke blurs to the next as they drop, bleeding, to the ground in tandem.

There are still four men alternately eyeballing one another and trying to take Wolverine down with their firearms, and one of those looks like he might break for the door any moment when bullets riddle yet another compatriot as the clawed Canuck drags the shooter into the line of fire, launching the goon out in front with a forceful kick. The body wheels heels over head as Logan charges in low behind it, then springs out high to come down in the midst of the ice cream bandits, still showing little sign of slowing. "Mel!" Maybe Wolverine has some sixth sense of when things go to shit, "Things handled out there?" Truth be told, the confrontation's going longer than he anticipated on the approach— no plan survives first contact.

What Logan hasn't seen is the Joker's contingency plan. Okay, not so much a contingency plan as a happy coincidence. He hadn't been planning on leaving the creamery intact once he got all the Rocky Road (and his scoop of Mint on a waffle cone), so there's a trio of thugs across the street with RPG's and the Joker breaking out the gas gun was the signal to light the place up. The stumpy Canuck seems like as good a target as any for a trio of incindiary warheads which rocket past May as the Joker spins in an almost flamenco like manuver. The knife flashes out to deflect one rod and swipe back at May.

The veteran SHIELD agent is by far the better trained, but the Joker's fighting style is wild and unpredictable. It's very difficult to anticipate what he'll do next, so while he's definitely on the worst end of the fight, he's very, very dangerous. "Oh, you don't like that?" Darcy and Robin get a few more gas-balls flung their way.

Thanks to being decked out in kevlar and his Robin costume, the taser that could've been really bad for the Bat-Bird doesn't work against the Boy Wonder. If it had caught his face or neck, he would have been incapacitated, but his suit means the taser doesn't reach his skin. The taser does give him pause. There was something about a taser; he's sure there was something about it. His blue eyes squint behind that mask as he attempts to remember, but there's nothing left, just imminent danger and the need to protect the civilians that are, inevitably out and about at the all-night Cold Stone Creamery.

The staff turns in his hand, spinning in front of him. The staff is pushed into the ground, and he roundhouses, using it for balance, towards the Joker. When he lands both feet on the ground, the staff is swung around towards Not-Harley. And then towards the large red dinosaur-like beast that not that far adjacent to him — which any bystander would recognize as the Redbird, Robin's car. Evidently his own car is in on the ice cream parlour assault?

The tazer didn't work!? Darcy, more than not at all incoherent, takes the staff to the side of the head and drops to the ground completely unconscious. Suger plum rockets dance in her head.

Melinda May ducks away from the RPGs as they rocket past, but she doesn't let it stop her from charging at the villain. One of her two batons IS neatly deflected by the Joker's knife, but that is why she wields two simultaneously. And, in keeping with Tai Chi, she follows through on the imparted momentum, swinging the other baton viciously at the green-haired head while at the same time aiming a snap kick to get that paintball gun out of the equation. She barely hears Logan's shout, but doesn't really have time to so much as consider a reply, considering the ordinance that was just shot right at the Canuck.

"Oh fuck m — " It's about as far as Wolverine gets before his final assault on the trio of wary gunmen around him is cut short by not one, not two, but a quick sequence of three rocket propelled grenades impacting all around him. The Joker's rocketeers may not be the most skills and precise warriors ever to wield such a weapon, but the explosive shockwaves make up for any variance in targetting — and it's not like Logan has many options when it comes to cover. He throws himself towards the counter, prays that the patrons have fled out the back or the hole he made coming in amidst all this madness, and well— kisses his ass goodbye. He's lost count of how many times he's had to do that, now. The explosions blast out the rest of the front of the building, set off flash fires amidst the interior, and launch the gunmen and a flaming Wolverine like ragdolls as his flesh melts from metallic bone.

The already bullet-pocked clothing he's wearing is now tatters, several of them on fire, and it more or less mirrors what the Canucklehead's body looks like underneath— burnt, torn, the shimmer of bloodied adamantium showing through in more spots than he cares to think about. Even with such catastrophic damage, however, he's conscious again well before his body's really started to knit properly, starting and hissing as he comes to amidst the rubble; sometimes healing from the inside out just isn't a great bonus. Not that that stops him from struggling, if with a rather haphazard crawl, towards the street.

The Joker takes that blow to the head and staggers backward. He's bleeding but that's in some ways his secret weapon. His blood is toxic with Joker Venom amongst many other things and as he spins away from the next attack he spits. Best case scenario the blood he's spitting will get in May's eyes or mouth or something. Worst case, it weirds her out and makes her mad.

She does look so like Batsy when she gets mad. It's almost cute. Maybe he can convince her to wear a cape.

Maybe not.

The gun goes clattering over to Robin's feet. The few thungs remaining are bugging out and Joker's looking like he's considering it himself as he blinks and stares blearily at May with a sharp grin. "Look! Ninjas!" He shouts to Robin whilst pointing at May.

Even with Harley down, Robin can't shake the feeling that something is off. Something. But he can't put his finger on what. And there's no time to think about it, no time to consider it, just the time to react to it. The hallucinogen has Robin whipping around again, his brain is still not focusing on everything going on around him. He rests a hand on the seemingly peaceful dino-beast (that he may have dented and will cry about when he's got the wherewithal to realize he assaulted his own car) while he readies himself to spin around again. Only, when he turns, all Robin sees is some dude getting beat up by a Ninja.

He squints. Wasn't he in the middle of something?

The gun that clatters to his feet is regarded with a vague narrowing of Robin's eyes before he reaches down and picks it up. He almost carelessly takes it, not like someone looking at a weapon — especially a weapon that someone finds abhorrent like a gun. He clips it back to his utility belt. "I need to get this belt repaired — grappling gun won't stay anymore," he murmurs into his comlink, which, ironically, isn't even on.

But there's no time to wait for the reply in the link that isn't coming. Not when there are NINJAS afoot. The Boy Wonder pushes off the car and lunges forward towards Melinda May and the Joker. But all Robin sees is a poor elderly citizen with a really bad dye job getting beat up by a ninja. "Ma'am, you need to get out of here — " he orders the Joker.

Robin's staff is spun again and then swung in May's direction towards her knees. Always go for the joints Robin.

Melinda May has had more than enough training to try and dodge when the Joker spits at her. She does manage to avoid most of it, but a tiny droplet or two land on her cheek. And before she has time to do more than take another swing at the Clown, the masked kid is coming after Joker with that staff of his and telling her to get… She takes that staff to the side of one knee, causing that leg to buckle almost immediately though she manages to remain upright on her still working leg to try and make good on this last baton-swing at Joker. She's that angry.

Ears ringing, head pounding, body screaming various agonized chords into his brain, Wolverine just keeps dragging himself towards the front of what used to be an innocuous sweets shop. This is why we can't have nice things, indeed. He's trailing blood behind him, the rather thorough injuries taking some time for even the old mutant's legendary healing factor to knit up— especially since he /utterly/ refuses to stay still. Even so, the process is swift and continuous, sinew and muscle knitting back together as tendons reform and close up the worst and deepest injuries first.

By the time he reaches the shattered door and windows, Logan is dragging himself, rather ungracefully, back to his feet. He doesn't even seem to notice the shards of glass and metal that slice into one broad hand anew as he braces himself against what's left of the frame, coughing, hacking, and spitting out a fair assortment of debris and ash amidst crimson-tinted saliva. His immediate observation as he rubs his second eye back open to join the first in blinking at the scene before him is an enlightened, "The Hell?" He'll be… he'll but just another moment, Agent May. All things considered, Wolverine's in stellar shape; this is just super, super relative.

The Joker's leg also buckles as May does make good on that last baton swipe and he cackles in pain (yes, cackles in pain) as he's shocked. "I'm going right now sonny boy! Thanks!" He says in a high pitched old lady's falsetto. Taking advantage of Robin's new obsession to grab Darcy's prone form he begins to drag her off with surprising speed for as banged up as he is.

The Ninja continues to attack the woman despite his first hit to her knee. Robin's staff meets the ground, and he spins around it, using it to prop him up as he corkscrews around the long bo staff to deliver a kick towards May's midsection and knock her over if the opportunity should arise.

Oracle said to leave no one conscious. He was sloppy, he'd inferred. Knock out the crooks for their own good, lest some other vigilante murder them, he can almost hear it. In fact, he might hear it. Oracle could be talking to him now through that comlink (that most definitely is not on). "Right!" he answers the Oracle in his head. "I'm on it!"

Melinda May gets a delusional Robin to the midsection, and her already screamingly painful knee just can't take the jarring motion and she crumples. But, this masked kid has clearly lost it, so if she's going down, she's taking him with her. Jabbing at his exposed neck with one of the batons as she falls, she hopes to zap him into realizing he's fighting the wrong enemy. Or at least into unconsciousness so he'll stop attacking her.

Crunch, crunch. The first couple steps out and over the charred facade are ungainly, threatening to spill Wolverine back on his face. But each moment that passes leaves him that much closer to his pre-detonation self, even if the gnawing hunger in his gut is already complaining thoroughly about the lengths he goes to— or maybe just the things that rocket propelled grenades do to him. Seeing May square off against Robin? It prompts a brisk shake of the Canucklehead cranium to confirm that -he's- not tripping balls, but there's no such luck.

Mel's fall draws a degree of surprise to the Wolverine's features— but it's quickly diminished by a glower that follows the Joker as he plucks up the junior SHIELD agent. Under the circumstances, it's a rather charitable chance that's offered to the confused kid, "The clown's fuckin' taking her, bub." Snap out of it. There's ample danger implied in the growled warning— about the lightest anyone tends to get off for kicking an old friend of his. Maybe he's reminding himself, as much as Robin. The Teen Wonder is kept squarely in focus through the old mutant's ears, even as he seems to turn his attention down the street, stalking off after the Joker… and swiftly building speed.

The Joker grins manically. He's in one of those phases and it looks like he's going to get away. Well… it'd be a lot easier if he wasn't dragging a… eh. You know what? Never mind. He knows who this is… ish. Can't be that hard to go get Harley and track her down. Droppingh is burden he waves to Robin and May and Logan. "A most excellent night at the Creamery." He cackles as he vanishes down an alley as the shop burns behind the trio.

The jolt of electricity to his neck has Robin's body twitching with the pain delivered through the stunners. For a moment, it's almost like the Boy Wonder is on pause as everything comes back into focus. His hand rises to his forehead, pressing solidly against it, and he glances down at May, recognizing now that this is Ninja Nanny, not a Ninja. Just the Nanny at Darcy's job. And then he's being growled at by Wolverine.

With a shake of his head, he's snapping out of it, albeit slower than he'd like. His hand drifts to his belt and he extracts his grappling gun. Except it's not his grappling gun. Which is a pretty firm reminder that he hasn't been right in the head. The gun is dropped to the ground and Robin takes a step back as he stares at the weapon like it's diseased. He's still putting together what was happening, and his mind hasn't quite caught up.

Melinda May watches the kid shake off the effects of both the electric jolt and whatever was in that gas, and all but snarls at him, "You helped. Him. Escape." And then, possibly just because she's feeling a bit petty, she uses that baton to sweep Robin's feet out from under him so he's on the ground now as well. Punk kid.

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