I had nine hours until the heist. Roughly six hours to travel, given traffic. Alright Babs, time to suit up. Hitting up a strip is the first step in running away, especially since her original costume change didn't go unnoticed. I'm sure the Question already reported to the league of what I look like, outfit and all. He was a great detective after all, he never left a detail forgotten in reports.
Bustling through the crowd was no easy task; to stay hidden from security cameras and possible run ins with Star City's most famous meant walking in the masses. Firstly, I needed a convenience store, snagging food and water when the cashier wasn't looking. Next was another second hand clothing shop. I had managed to luck out with my "normal" clothes last night, however they'd do me no good in stealth operations. I kicked off the too large boots in the racks, grabbing smooth pleather fashion boots, almost blue in reflection, midnight in the shadows in their stead.
Next up were small, tight leggings, deep black void of any shine. The texture was smooth yet dull, the waist band sitting high on my hips; high enough to not really need a belt no matter what crazy acrobatics I may have to pull. Debating on whether or not I should really try to lift a full outfit from the quiet store, I caught the eye of an elder employee, sorting boxes rather slowly, all too focused in my direction. It's not safe to continue.
Smiling at the woman some ways away, I slipped into the teacher's pet persona. We made small talk as I shuffled closer, pretending to browse accessories and shirts alike, the boots snug on my feet, the leggings warm on my stomach. Minutes passed before she finally returned to her set up diligently. I couldn't get to the door fast enough. My heart was pounding, all sound of the bustling city deaf to my ears. I had never shoplifted before last night. I never thought I'd have to do it in broad daylight. Briefly, my thoughts wandered to Harley. I wonder if she ever felt this nervous when she left Arkham's payroll. Or if she had always been bad, able to mould her fear into pleasure…
It didn't matter, because Harley was long behind her, terrorizing Gotham on someone else's schedule. I still needed a top, maybe a mask… Just as the checklist began in my mind, my blue orbs caught the sight of shining, fake gold accessories through a window fashion across the street. My senses tingled. Gold does look good with black, my lips contorted themselves under my teeth in debate. Flashy was risky, oh but it would look so good!
Giving in, I waved apologetically to the cars that damn near took me out. It was as if they had never experienced a j-walker. I was in and out of the boutique rather quickly, snatching the thick golden waist belt, with four tiers of gold plating, reminiscent of SteelClaw's own. Alongside the eye grabbing belt were matching bracelets, and a thick neck brace. It reminded me of Egyptian history, the plates folding over top one another so neatly, the gold worn and brassy from processing.
Well, I humoured, SteelClaw was a criminal, trying to do things for the good of the people. It was too good a play to pass up, especially being so near to Green Arrow. I mean come on, I betrayed my friends and family, stole from Gotham, caused severe injuries to the Question and broke a friend's lamp. Might as well drag up some things left forgotten and desecrate someone's memory.
Two more stops had me with a purple hooded cape, deeper in colour than Raven's and a tight obsidian mock neck top. It was almost two, my annoying little communicator flashed as a reminder. Red's beginning the manhunt as I dawdled my way over to another bus station. My bus would be leaving within the hour, but I really didn't want to chance waiting in the public eye. So, like a typical girl, I headed to the musty bathroom to hang out. Changing into the tights and mock top was easy, leaving the previous items on the grimy, tiled floor. The cape and accessories would be too obvious in broad daylight, so I left them in the bag, the itchy sweater scratching roughly against the blonde hairs on my arms.
Turning my back to the stall door, I sighed. My head fell back sparingly, though I jolted from the cold. How people managed to buzz their heads baffled me. Every movement sent air rushing against the sensitives skin beneath, sending chills down my spine. Maybe I'll question Kaldur the next chance I get.
Hm.
If I met Kaldur again, it wouldn't be pleasant. Dick would be there, and if the Justice League was sending a covert op against me, the scenarios piled into my brain, sending goosebumps across my agitated flesh. It wasn't something I would like to deal with.
Glancing once more at my communicator, the instructions given from last night still fresh on the screen, I huffed. 2:26. I still had another half hour of waiting probably. By now the League would be moving their manhunt to transit and possible destinations. It's time to play little bat!
Nerves bubbled in my stomach, bursting forward to my throat, where I choked and heaved dry air under the fluorescents. It was like a disease, spreading through my body. I enjoyed fighting, I'm not gonna lie. It gave me such a victory when I could win a fight by my lonesome. But fighting the League… No, those feelings couldn't surface again. Babs was dead, her innocence preserved in the moonlight, her grave unknown in the winds. Padding out of the stall, my shoulders squared, eyes heavy with fight, my pale hand tentatively opened the cool, steel door. Each step felt like a step into madness, my mind could barely process the station before me.
People were chaotic, buzzing back and forth, security members frantic with tickets and schedules. The bag that held the rest of my costume was gripped tightly in my left fingers. I prowled about the dusty floor, dancing and weaving through guards and families, waiting in an obscure corner closest to the stop I'd have to board.
Shouts overlapped each other, some in surprise, other in fright, as the two Arrows barrelled down the escalator, their masked eyes desperately hoping to lock onto me. I could register the bus pulling up, however it felt like ages before it halted, shrieking. The brakes squealed and the pressure sagged. I had to time this right. Red was gunning for the other side, his back towards me. Oliver trekked closer, his covered eyes seemingly wandering the crowds. Now!
Launching away from my shadows, I pivoted swiftly behind an angst ridden teen with blonde hair, thickly lined icy ices with a metallic undershirt, black crop top, faded blue jean shorts with heavy brown work boots. She was off bobbing her head to some loud rock band, unaware to the criminal behind her. Six steps, then five, four and three. Passing my ticket to the driver, I cautiously glanced behind my stiff shoulder. Green had turned around, but still failed to make eye contact. Good, as it should be.
Two steps, and then one. I was finally on the bus, sighing a breath I hadn't remembered I'd been holding. It seemed like the only open spot was in front of the blonde on the left, the side closest to the Arrows search. Damn, I cursed softly to myself once more, plopping down on the torn vinyl seat, my back to the window. They can't recognize the back of a head to another, not them. Ollie may have the heart of the league, but he was no mastermind. Roy neither.
It was agonizing, waiting for the bus to move. Finally, it pushed off, the hydraulics wheezing in effort to push forward. And just as it did, Oliver was grasped by Roy to attention, their gaze lining mine. I glanced at them with a lazy smile, and allowed the bus to take off. Looked like I would have Manhunter, Obsidian, Green Arrow, Black Canary in the line up tonight, maybe a few other Leaguers as a special appearance. Imagine that, four members to deal with one rogue sidekick. Certainly one for the headlines.
Shaking them from my mind, I hunched back on the cool seat and awaited my destination. My ride turned out to be rather smooth, no members hunting me down, probably out of safety for the civilians. But it didn't mean I was safe when I greeted the setting sun in Los Angeles. Their silence confirmed a plan of attack brewing behind the safety of the satellite. Ducking into the shadows, I donned my new outfit, cloak and accessories catching the diminishing rays of twilight as I traversed along the rooftops. I was no SteelClaw, but I was a prowler on the loose for a dumb book, with a sick a sense of humour developing as I buried Barbara deeper and deeper beneath my skin.
