Not So Fluffy Piece

March 29, 2016:

Bluebird goes to Wayne Towers to confront Bruce Wayne about something Nightwing tipped her off on.

Gotham, Wayne Tower


NPCs: Security Guards (Cheeks and Epper)

Mentions: Nightwing


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Wayne Tower, Bruce Wayne's office

It's been a full work day in the Tower and Bruce hasn't been able to leave it. First thing in the morning had been executives from Osamu then none other than Steve Rogers and an hour ago a representative from Stagg Enterprises. Full day, no sleep, this means the night, Batman's day will be a rough one. Not that this isn't anything he hasn't done before. It is late now, no one should be entering or leaving the building on any sort of official capacity.

Sleeves rolled up, dress shirt unbuttoned, tie rolled and set aside Bruce rubs water over his face, staring at his own reflection. His office is fully equipped to live in if he so wished to. He does some night or at least most think he does, Wayne Enterprises security patrolling the building most definitely believe he does. It's all part of the mystique and of course the alibi.

Late indeedy!

After that whole cock-up with Red Hood and her constantly sitting around in Arkham doing god knows what else, Harper just had to see and test what Nightwing said about Bruce Wayne was true. Of course it had to be true, there wasn't any reason for Nightwing.. er.. Grayson to lie about such a thing but there had to be at least a confession of sorts or.. Has anyone really gotten Batman to confess anything? Bruce Wayne?

'I did not have sex with that girl..'
'I did not stick that batarang in that guys head, it just grew there!'
'No I did not swing from that light pole.'

Those thoughts actually make Harper snicker to herself.

The lobby was bigger than .. well she's seen it before. A quick run in to use the bathroom on her way to work allowed her that moment to even take a gander at the Tower, then out she goes. She didn't really ever have any business with the tower though the grid itself said that most of the power that comes from the city was routed from there. Makes sense, at least. But in the lobby she stood, her hand rubbing against the back of her neck to stave off her nervous energy, book bag hitched tight to her back with the straps dangling, skull and spiked belt holding up skinny jeans that was just there for decoration. Combat boots, Rage Against the Machine shirt, and blue hair that probably looks like hell due to the ride on her beat-up motorcycle. Up to the receptionist desk she goes, knocking upon the surface with a grand ol' smile.

"Uh." She starts, clearing her throat, attempting to look professional. NOT. "Mr. Wayne in?"

Harper makes it about as far as the security kiosk on her way towards the receptionist desk and a burly man with a fluffy red afro flanked by a shaven headed scar faced blonde woman are blocking her path, "After hours and you don't exactly look like you belong in here."
The female says around a mouthful of chewing gum.
"Yeah kid, you can't sleep in here." The male adds his nametag reads Epper.
"Also, wayyy too young to be Mr.Waynes type. Get on back out." Cheek says making a motion with her head towards the front doors.

Harper immediately draws her hands up, eyes wide, right upon the tips of her toes as she's caught mid stride. She takes a few steps back, lowering herself to her natural height as she gives a shake of her head. "Woah woah.. way to judge a book by it's cover, Supa'fly and Clean. I'd say you don't belong in here either but holy beans do people just hire -annnny- body up in here."

Still, she looks rather harmless right? Sort of. Mostly. "Epper." She reaches out to flick at the air, a gesture towards his nametag. "Can call you that? Don't care. Bruce Wayne is -too- old to be my type so you know what? Be good guards or whatever and let the receptionist or whoever is working that till to go ahead and call Mr. Wayne because we got business." She pauses, just for dramatic flair. "I'm here to sell him Meth."
"Cute, you're on your way out." Epper says reaching a hand out to grip her arm. Cheeks draw up behind them both with a sour chuckle, "Man, all walks. Just come right on in and pretend you're an ex or a long lost daughter, dare ya? You know how many of you we throw out a week?"
"Wait, what? Hold on. Uh huh, right away sir, sorry about that, we didn't know." Cheeks pauses, a finger held up in the air for them to both be quiet, cupping her ear she whispers, "Release her, Epper." Which he does while Cheeks moves over and begins to make a laminated badge, no photo but she grips a hold of Harper's wrist and slaps it down on to the kiosk, scanning her palm and then releasing, the card shoved in to her. The conversation apparently ended over the earpiece as well, "Go straight to the elevators, go past them and take Mr. Wayne’s private one."
Epper shrugs his hands out wide, "What the shit, Cheeky?"
"Apparently shes some college kid writing a puff piece on Mr.Wayne. More for the ego I guess, just, whatever. Do you job, no questions… "
"Right, college huh?"
"Yeah, that thing you never did."
"Hah! Like you went."
Cheek glances over Eppers shoulder to make sure Harper is moving if not she'll wave her off.

"Hey hey hey! Let go of my gah-damn arm! I never said I was his kid! I just said I needed to speak to Mr. Wayne! NO WHERE in there did I say I want to speak to my dad! I got a dad! Alright?!" Someone was a bit touchy on that subject but she was already going to plan on camping out whatever entrance he decided to come out of. Mr. Wayne couldn't hide from her, nothing in the verse could! Okay, Mr. Wayne could, with a great but not so great looking security team that could probably break her back if she gave them hell.

But that doesn't mean she wasn't going to let them work for it.

Though it seems she was in luck, since she was out and in the clear, hand scanned and badge smacked into the palm she decides to not be the obnoxious Narrows brat that she was and takes the win for what it was. A win. The pass to the elevators and onto the personal one with a push of the button after a minute wait is stepped upon and .. the only button on the elevator pressed. After all that damn work, she was determined. Her and Bruce Wayne were going to have words. WORDS.

"…aw man.. big mistake, big mistake.." But it was too late, the elevator was already going right up.
The expansive floor that Bruce Wayne's office is on is covered in black marble, high vaulted ceilings, tall windows that lord over Gotham and a color scheme of monochromatic, the only colors in there being gold and silver, if it counts for much. The whole floor is empty.
Two large black doors past a desk open up to Bruce Wayne’s actual office. Likely, to no surprise this room is just as imposing as the rest of the building tribal masks and weapons along every wall.

Bruce Wayne stands within, hands on his hips wearing only dress slacks and a tanktop. His muscular physique not something that can be hidden, he looks like he plays insane amounts of tennis, water sports, skiing, whatever it is the very wealthy do for fun. He is also incredibly scarred up, but there are several reports in the news about the daredevil antics of Gotham's most eligible bachelor. He is known to be a bit of a drunken wildman. No words, no smiles, just a firm set expression on his features. It looks as though he just recently slicked his hair back and his skin glistens from freshly having splashed water on it.
"Good evening, Mrs. Row."

For a moment, Harper wasn't even going to come out of the elevator. But the ghost of some asshole pushed her out and she stumbled just a little bit. With a look around, she draws in a breath, keeping that chin held upright as she stalks the floors and pushes the double doors open to see -THE MAN- standing right in the middle.

It was odd. Like he was the Godfather of all of Gotham and she was going in there to sell her soul for a favor and some change. She swallows hard, fingers looping within the straps of her backpack near the bottom, only the silent [BROKEN LOG. TO BE CONTINUED]

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