2013.04.20 - Courage is Not The Absence of Fear

He's using less and less of them now. Only two. Once he could go through both gauntlet clips in a single engagement, now he can parcel them out over the course of an entire evening. Dragnet pauses, looking up at where Huntress perches. Just how successful she had been at being unobtrusive, he remains silent on. The voice modulation is in full effect, though it might seem just a tad less hyper-masculine than the previous night. "Doesn't tell anyone much of anything if it's not relevant to the job." He says, examining the canisters. If they can be salvaged, or if they must be broken down into raw materials by the omni-tool. "Mutterings would be a good way to put it. Only a handful of individuals have the capacity to track me, let alone the interest. If I've done it right, most I come up against don't even know whom or what did it."
Huntress scoffs. "Where's the fun in that? The Bat leaves guys peeing themselves in his wake regularly. They can't be scared of what they don't know's about to hit them." She makes a calculated hop to land a few feet away from Dragnet. Sure, she wears a cape like Batman does, but she can't get her cape to do that dramatic flare thing the Bat's does. Probably because hers is just plain old fabric. "Now me, I'm just as happy pinning them to a wall by their spleens as I am by their clothes, but... you know how pissy HAL gets."
Dragnet shakes his head. "I'm the one that's scared. I do it quick and clean, before I realize just how scared I really am." It's true. The armor stops street-caliber weapons. He can be as nearly invisible as anything that can be imagined for decades. He has enough firepower to make a stand in any city he finds himself in, regardless of the threat. What meaning has it though, when the young man inside is weak? "Besides, this wasn't exactly designed to make a scene." Her talk about violence though merely elicits a shrug. "I would rather spare a hundred wicked men than kill one who yet had the potential to be an honest man. No one has the right to judge, least of all me."
Huntress raises her eyebrows, having expected some kind of inane machismo instead of the clearly honest reply despite the voice modulation. "Why are you doing this then, if it scares you that much?" It's not an accusatory comment, she genuinely wants to know the guy's motivations. She knows her own, and sometimes learning someone else's helps her get a bit more perspective. "I mean, better you than some thoughtless ass who just wants to beat up on people because he can, but ... how'd you get," she gestures to the tech suit, "here?"
Dragnet steps past her, looking at one of the gauntlets. "...need to tighten that. Targeting is five degrees off." He says, almost as if its the answer to her question. He then looks up behind her, the faceplate doing a wondrous job of obscuring any emotion behind that inky black shield, but one might imagine there is a face under that. Someone younger. Not so much as to be one of the birds in tights, former or latter, but someone perhaps a bit too thrust into it. "It's the only thing I'm good at. I ran away, once. Things are worse when you run away." Fear is a powerful thing. Feelings of mediocrity and inferiority by spending one's whole life being average. Forgettable. The question about the suit does cause him to straighten though, almost as if slapped. "I got in over my head. The armor was the only way I had to get out of it."
"Well, you say you got out, but it sounds like you're still there," Huntress taps at her own temple, "in one way or another." Yes, she's fully aware of how hypocritical she's getting, but this guy has always seemed like he was holding back. "So you going to let them keep that last bit of control over you?" Whoever 'they' are. She's rolling the dice. Fingers crossed Dragnet won't call her on her bullshit and will stay and listen.
He's not one to call anyone on their bullshit. Mostly because he's aware how full of it he is himself. It's a business that requires justification, necessitates the little lies that one tells oneself to sleep at night. Not that any vigilante probably ever really sleeps, in all likelihood. The nightmares and platitudes of one might be enough to drown Gotham in and of itself. His shoulders slump, his hands loose at his sides. "You have it wrong. My fear, my weakness is of my own nature. I'm not a hero in any sense of the word." He's always been holding things close to the vest. Perhaps, perhaps saying something will ease the burden. One fist clenches. "The 'them' that have control over me...aren't the them you think they are. It's because I remember them that I can even try to pursue this half-hearted attempt to make things better. If not for 'them', I would be dead. They compel me to stand, to try and do the right thing. Until I repay 'them' in full, I'll always be there. I don't have the right to move on." He says, the exhale palpable even behind the screen.
Wow. That was a LOT more than Huntress expected to hear out of the guy. Time to maybe take a different tack. "I had you pegged wrong, then. You're the opposite of me, even though we both have debts that need to be repaid. Want me to help you get better at your repayment? Then maybe you can help me with mine."
 
Maybe he's just tired of being alone. He probably has more conversations in costume than out of it, and he's built as a near-perfect infiltrator. The irony is not lost on Dragnet. His hand loosens even as he nudges one of the hoods. A groan ensues, and he seems satisfied. The shock system is still being field tested, and it looks like the additional hardware may become a permanent mainstay of his arsenal. "I wouldn't even know where to start with if I were to seek a reckoning. So I try to repay the debt to those who helped me get out." He knows a handful of the parties that have expressed a keen interests in his whereabouts and the technology that he has appropriated, and all seem well beyond the purview of his preferred scope of doing good. "If you think I can, sure. Why do you want to help me, though?" He asks.
Huntress shrugs, watching the hood's reaction to Dragnet's nudge. That taserish thing he used is pretty nifty by the looks of it. Maybe she can barter to get a bolt or three that can do the same thing. "Maybe because you're on the same side as me, kind of? And from what I saw just now, you could maybe save a bit of that gas stuff you used by changing the way you deploy it. More like directed and focused instead of spraying the stuff everywhere like a can of RAID."
Dragnet leans down, his fingers checking his pulse, placing the gloved hand over the heart of the hood. The omni-tool chirps. "All within acceptable limits. Maximum transmission of pain and disruption of motor function without permanent harm done to subject." He looks up, seemingly pleased with the results as he returns to standing up straight. "It's a combination of a safety protocol and an ability to affect multiple targets. A focused burst is safe in theory, but the hypoventilation could reach dangerous levels. Much safer to reserve that for...special cases." He stands up, the two fingers that took both pulse and heart rate glowing slightly golden as the web of circuitry that aligns them dims. "Maybe we are, but you will forgive me a bit of suspicion. It's easier for me to give help than to accept it. People who help tend to want to pry." Also, most of the residents of Gotham seem more a herd of cats than anything else.
Huntress holds up her hands as if to show that she's unarmed. Or something like that. "Hey, I was just offering to give you, like, fighting tips or something. Do I look like the kind of person that wants to steal something from you?" She indicates her crossbow then her own mask. "I mean, what you look like behind that helmet, what your real name is, I'm the last person that could get away with demanding you share that stuff with me."
Dragnet actually chuckles. "Do I look like the kind of person who goes out at night to fight crime? We wear masks and helmets and cowls. Deception is more or less to be expected. Though I do wonder why you hide your face and yet seem to have no trouble showcasing other flesh." Maybe he's lightening up a bit. He turns his head, cocks it slightly. "So many that value their own privacy have little compulsion about violating others. You perhaps may not, but that does not mean our affiliates might not become...curious."
Huntress says, "Well, if they want to get to you, they'll have to get through me. And the costume? Kind of distracting, isn't it?" That last is said with a saucy smirk. Clearly the affectation is completely intentional.
Dragnet laughs again. "Yes, yes. To me though, you just look cold. That's another benefit of being constantly batshit scared. It keeps your head in the game. I am sure plenty of confident and cocky capes and cowls try to flirt with you all the time." He says amusedly. "Hopefully no one has to go through anyone. I will probably disappear before that happens. It's sort of my gimmick, you know."
Huntress drops the smirk almost as quickly as she adopted it. "Maybe I mean that figuratively, but I still mean it. I had to learn the hard way that no one can do this shit entirely on their own forever. And if I can keep just one other person from learning that lesson the way I did, then it'll have been worth it."
 
Dragnet's hands are loose. He then inspects one of the gauntlets, flicks the back of it open, and a sabot is ejected. It's the ammunition to a weapon she may have seen a few times, a mass accelerator that vaporizes the contents of the ground and translates it into pure kinetic energy. One of the more disconcerting technologies on a suit that stretches the definition of street legal. "Not being alone is nice, but I've survived thus far. It's...not like I have much left to lose." It's not a bid for sympathy. He really can't do much worse, even if his descent into anonymity, vagrancy, so on and so forth was a protective bid. "Still, maybe there is something to that."
Huntress says, "You could lose what makes you who you are. And I'm getting the feeling that that's pretty much all you've got left at the moment, besides your gothy Iron Man thing going on here. Well, other than the gobs of money and time it's gotta take to keep a getup like that on the cutting edge." She knows something about that, her own cold weather costume needs repairs, and talk about a pain in the ass. "So, are you saying no to letting me be your sidekick?"
 
Dragnet steps closer, closer. Totally invades her space and leans in to whisper in her ear. His voice utterly deadpan. "Time, yes. Money...not so much. If I give it enough time it self-repairs and manufactures the ammunition and parts of any system installed. Good thing considering I never have more than ten dollars to my name at any one time." Sometimes, even less. His alter ego has not been above posting a 'will work for food' sign. It also means a lot of supply runs to feed the omnitool's need for raw materials. "What makes me who I am isn't so much. Anyone would do the same thing I have done." He says by way of explanation, though the sidekick comment does get a laugh. "Given our previous history, I am going to interpret that comment as sarcasm. If you are flirting, you are terrible at it." He says, wagging a single nanokevlar laden finger. "Not nice to tease a vigilante with the thought of a spandex clad heroine clinging to his shadow and his every word. I also don't have any Batcave for you to move into, so I hope you weren't trying to move in."
Huntress keeps herself from leaning away from Dragnet as he actually honest to goodness ... leans. When he starts explaining things to her, she turns her head just a little to look at the edge of the featureless facemask. Damn, it's like having the Stig whispering sweet nothings. It's ... creepy and wrong. But, at the same time gives her still more insight into who this guy really is. Not his name, no, but the personality hidden behind the Stigness of the costume. "You know, usually when people invade my personal space they get a knife in the gut for their trouble. But I think I'll let you off light this time. And trust me, if I were flirting, you'd know." She puts one hand in front of Dragnet's chest without actually physically connecting and then takes a single step back to reestablish the personal space boundaries. Keeping her hand in front of the other vigilante, she continues. "I didn't think you'd take too kindly to the opposite. I was trying to be kind to your ego, okay? But hell, if you don't want someone to work on target practice with, or even just share a pizza on a rooftop between smackdowns, that's on you. According to HAL, I'm shit at working with other people anyway."
He steps back just as quick, nay, more quickly. Apparently his attempt to be suave and cool and sophisticated has backfired. Not that he was honest to God flirting with her, but hey, isn't the tall, dark, and semi-imposing thing supposed to work wonders on women? Something tried, and valuable data achieved. "Hey, had to try, right? I keep getting told I'm not supposed to be afraid of the fishnets or women in spandex. Figured it was a good exercise, and thank you for the lack of knife in the gut." Insights, yes. Surely he owes something for all the time he spends lurking in her shadow. In the purely professional stance. "I didn't say I refused. I was...trying to be funny. I'm...really bad at this." The polar opposite end of the spectrum as her. She gets angry. He retreats. "I don't think you are bad at working with people. A little headstrong maybe, but that's the whole point of this team thing, isn't it? If we were all perfect snowflakes we would be working in Metropolis or something. Here it's all gritty edges and dark shadows and all that. All very pathos."
Huntress hehs. "Yeah. Just call me Joan Jett. All right, then. Meet you tomorrow, ten pm, on the roof three blocks from the GCPD building?"
"I'll bring hoagies. I know a place."
Dragnet pauses, letting data flood in front of his face on his side of the Helm of Stigness +5. To make sure there isn't some cosmic calamity that he would miss or cause by making that date. "I guess I can do that. I won't forget. I'll eat beforehand though. Crumbs are bad for the circuits." He says offhandedly even as he allows her to make her exit for the night.
"Oh. Your loss, then. Tomorrow." Huntress turns and with a few running steps jumps and catches the underside of the fire escape. A few gymnast-ish / parkour-ish moves later and she's on the fire escape proper and climbing quickly. Yet still rather quietly considering the thing is rusty old metal and she isn't exactly waifishly thin.
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