It's Not You It's Me

August 23, 2017:

Spoiler and Impulse cross paths again. Time for round two of awkwardness.

Lower Manhattan, NYC


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Red Robin


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Another 'quiet' night. One more week until classes start. Spoiler flies above the city astride her skycycle, eyes peering down, AR lens zoomed in to survey the landscape. It was just a patrol. Simple and uncomplicated. Even when a mugging is spotted.

Muggings are uncomplicated.

Spoiler leaps from her bike, using her cape to arrest her free fall as the limited AI of the flying motorcycle acknowledges her decision to leap by hovering directly over her position. Her landing is literally onto one of the goons, the one getting too up close and personal with the victim.

"Spoiler Alert: This is when you realize, you've made terrible life choices," the aubergine batling and Avenger 'introduces' herself as she turns on the remaining gang. She's out numbered, yes. She's possibly out 'gunned'. She's probably not out classed.

If these turn out to be metas, the story changes.

Behind her, as Spoiler straightens while facing down the gang, the victim shrinks back against the brick wall of the alley.

How many guys does it take to rob someone? It sounds like the beginning of a terrible riddle or a bad joke, and neither of which Impulse has an answer for. But he doesn't do riddles or puzzles very well. This is a kid who will physically scour the entirety of a city for a hidden bomb rather than wait for someone to give clues as to its location. And he'd find it, too.

New York has become his other haunt of late, given that team headquarters is located here. He'll never get over that. Being in a team is awesome. He gets to do stuff without Max breathing over his shoulder. Admittedly, he hadn't really been on patrol himself, but it's such a convenient thing to have your costume compacted into a ring for easy equipping when something suddenly comes up. Something like this.

Spoiler makes her entrance with a witty comment. Impulse makes his with a flying kick coming out of something-miles-per-hour. He'd actually thought to slow down.

Unfortunately it's still pretty fast. There's a whoosh of wind and a choked off shout as thug in question goes flying. Impulse stands there, with one leg up and his arms in some pseudo-martial artist's position as he might have observed from a movie. "Neeeext!"

Spoiler's mind had just enough time to register the flicker-blur incoming before WHOOSH-oomfthud-Neeeext! She blinks once and hops down from her first take down. The last guy, because in New York the answer is it takes three guys tonight, pulls the gun he had his hand on, points, and pulls the trigger. Spoiler's already starting to push toward the victim, not completely sure if Gunman Stupid is going to hit the victim or not and she's not really willing to take that chance. Her suit could take a small fire arm round… center mass… It'd hurt like hell, and it shouldn't be done more than once, but…

Most people don't run into the line of fire. Given the speed at which Impulse moves, it probably isn't even noticed that he's done exactly that, not until thirty seconds later there's still no impact of a bullet anywhere. There is however the *tink* of a bullet hitting the ground, perhaps oddly enough, sounding behind the guy who'd shot it off.

"Whoops, sorry- should'a checked for weapons first, huh," the speedster apologizes, speaking over the would-be gunman's shoulder. He grabs for the guy's wrist, twisting it back in an attempt to disarm him before he can try again.

Spoiler waits, tensed.


She looks up. Of course. Speedsters. Drawing a breath, Spoiler refuses to acknowledge the squirm in her stomach in favor of speaking to the victim over her shoulder.

"Go home."

The gunman is no match for Impulse's speed, but he is bulkier, meaning that the Flashling is only successful in the disarm because he could out maneuver the man rather than any real application of force or skill. As he turns on the young man, Spoiler steps up. Since he's turned, now she's behind him, and she looks ready to use Impulse as a distraction to take the guy down.

The question is: who wins this race?

Oh good, Spoiler's got the poor victim handled. Impulse is a bit distracted himself anyway, as when the gunman turns to face him, he grins and waves. "Hi! Guns aren't nice and I take it neither are you."

Thankfully no one's framed it as a race, as that'd probably prompt some competition that the speedster isn't even aware there might be. As it is, he figures so long as they helped someone and the bad guys don't get away, everything's all good. The disarmed gunman takes a futile swing at him, which Impulse probably saw coming a mile away. Guy obviously hadn't been taking notes- but then again it's hard to pay attention to something you couldn't even see. Every spot he aims for the speedster is naturally where said speedster no longer stands. Spoiler will have plenty of opportunity to take the guy down given he's losing his patience quick with Impulse's antics.

He leapfrogs over the man's extended arm, fresh out of a punch, cheerily shouting, "Olé!"

Purple lips flatten at the cheerful and youthful antics of the boy. Silent as a shadow, Spoiler moves up behind the guy and drops him with a single leaping roundhouse to the side of his head. The man's eyes roll up into his head and he drops unceremoniously.

Spoiler straightens from the landing, flat lavender-white eyes of her cowl landing on Impulse. Identical Y Chromosome. Direct male relation. Spoiler just stares at Impulse, trying hard to figure out if she even wants to broach the subject or not. She's leaning heavily toward not, and so she starts to turn away.

At least he doesn't seem terribly offended that Spoiler's taken the guy down instead of him. Impulse flashes a thumb's up at her, only to find her turning away. What, was it something he did? Or are thumb's up passe? Stupid past trends.

"Hey, um…nice work?" he calls after her, expecting her to stop, acknowledge him, something. He honestly doesn't know why she'd ignore him otherwise. Unless…

He calls out and Spoiler does indeed stop.

Direct male relation. Bartholemew Henry Allen. Father: Allen, Henry. Mother: Deceased. Siblings: None.

Siblings: None.

Spoiler half turns, the motion just enough for her to catch the online of him, his read and white suit, in the peripheral of her vision.

"Yes. Nice work." She pulls a grapple gun from her belt. Would Impulse recognize it? Does Red Robin use these anymore considering he made wings so he could FLY?

If he recognizes it, he doesn't seem to think too much about it. Tim did spill about how he and Spoiler been together a few years back. He'd also told Bart that this chick had been dating Barry Allen. His grandfather. So naturally Bart is…still not sure what to think of that.

There's a lot of other emotions swirling around along those lines. They collide and mix together into a blur, and it just weighs heavily on him. Grampa Barry. It seems everyone's been able to actually know the guy except for him. It hardly seems fair.

Of course, none of that explains the attitude Spoiler's giving him now. She'd been willing to speak to him before, and even if she was guarded then, compared to now, she was friendly!

"…what'd I do?" Impulse asks, brows furrowing behind his goggles. He folds his arms. It's kind of a default question.

Siblings: none. The thought repeats itself as Spoiler regards Impulse. Her purple lips are a flat line on her face.

"Provided a very nice distraction," is the answer, which Spoiler knows is hardly fair, but she's still too dizzy from that to really think much past it.

She'll realize she should just check Barry's DAD for siblings and then so on, but right now, that DNA test has her weirded out.

"You don't seem too happy about it." Impulse frowns. If it's because of who he is, then it's not like he can help it. Then again, only so many people know he's from the future and who he's related to. Official records wouldn't reveal such things, obviously. Just some kid that lives with his guardian in Alabama.

Even then, is it any reason to be acting like…like this? His head's starting to hurt just trying to work things out, and he reaches up to clamp his hands over his face as though to keep his brains in. Shaking his head, it's him that turns away from her this time.

"Guess I'm not needed here anymore." He doesn't mean for it to come out as bitterly as it might have. Spoiler will nevertheless have a brief window to say something before he might just bolt off.

Aw, crumbs.

Spoiler inhales as Bart turns away, and beneath her cowl her own brows knit. She saw that frown, and the familiar way he grabs at his head.

No, not familiar. Because she doesn't KNOW this boy and a stupid DNA test…. Look, he can't help who he's related to, and anyway… rude rude rude. Steph's Scout Leader would rip a badge off for the way she's acting. Even if Batman would likely dance for joy an applaud.

"I'm sorry."

The words aren't quite flat, but they are soft as if being offered tentatively across the distance.

"You just remind me of someone. It… There's a lot about it that makes me nervous… That's the wrong word. Agitated? That's not right either. Look. It's weird and it's confusing and none of it is your fault in the slightest, and I'm sorry."

It's a quiet apology, but Impulse hears her words clearly enough. His foot sets down from where his heel had been lifting from the pavement, and although he remains with his back turned towards her, he's listening.

"…Red Robin told me," he finally says. "And honestly I'm confused about…a whole lot of stuff too. I'm not sure how I should be feeling about it all." He doesn't quite realize that what he says might just be adding to the confusion. Still, he goes on. "-but I'm sorry too. For bothering you. Or…or whatever. But like you said, it's not like I can help it."

Should he have said all that? He just imagines sticking his own foot in his mouth. It's an image that's come up in his head many times before. "Argh, sorry!" he says again, seemingly apropos of nothing and everything before he just takes off.

He doesn't know where, but he just feels he needs to go. Somewhere. Somewhere away from there. Right now.

Tim. Did. What now?

OMG, I am going to kill him. #NotReally #4Reals #Not4Realzies

"It's not you," Steph starts, only for Impulse to - like his grampa - interrupt her, apologize, and then just bolt away.

Literally. Lightning and everything. The little gust of wind tugs her cape and hair toward where he was in a manner that's almost heartbreaking.

Dammit Barry messed with her heart and this boy's messing with her what was that?

Spoiler looks away, toward a someone across the street. That same half-glimpse of someone. A shudder runs past her before she too makes her egress into the night.


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