The Bat Meets the Brat

December 08, 2017:

Batman checks in on Lady Mastermind to remind her that he's always there.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Gotham City. Chelsea District. 12:54 AM.

Gotham City is blanketed in a light dusting of snow. The streets of Chelsea are exhausted and empty after a day of holiday shopping across its wealth of boutiques, high-end art galleries, and upscale jewelry stores. Street sweepers run up and down the block, pushing the powdered snow towards the storm drains, taking extra care beneath the yellowed lighting of streetlamps to make the district presentable for the next shopping cycle that begins in less than ten hours. The drivers, so concerned with their work, never bother to look up into the shadows of the rooftops and fire escapes. They never do, even with the urban legends that are rumored to live in those shadows.

Regan Wyngarde, A.K.A. Lady Mastermind, has files with the FBI, Interpol, and the NSA. More perplexingly is the lack of warrant out for her arrest after detainment by the DEO last year during a jewel heist. She's free from captivity again, free to roam, and tonight…she's doing what any normal girl would do at nearly 1 on the morning above Gotham City.

Or, perhaps not.

The keys of the laptop are underlit with a pale, violet lighting, clicking away beneath tight, leather gloves that conceal Lady Mastermind's most recent manicure. The hood of her black, nondiscrete parka has been pulled back, wreathing her neck in PETA-taunting fur that is as real as the price tag she'd either paid, or stole, to obtain it. She's bent at the waist with sheets of long, straight, blonde hair, with two blue eyes locked to the computer planted under an awning to protect it from the snow.


It's been a while since Batman has been spotted in Gotham. Why? No one is talking. That tends to make some people bolder than they should be.

Now, he's back.

The sighting through scouting drones flying over the city, doing a sweep for persons of interest, had brought him here, and the red and black suited Dark Knight has taken the long route with the Batmobile to this section of town.

Now, with a drone hovering out of sight in stealth mode above, Batman sits on a nearby rooftop, red, screened eyes looking down at Lady Mastermind in the darkness… those hi-tech 'eyes' allowing him to zoom in to her location as he examines the scene. Crouched at the very edge on the rooftop and out of sight of Lady Mastermind, he's taking a wait and see approach for the moment before he makes a move.


Lady Mastermind sweeps her finger over the center pad, switching from window to window on the notes she's taking. Detailed spreadsheets of times, street names, routes, and little nicknames are all locked into the encrypted, hard-shell casing of the laptop. Periodically, she reaches out to the steaming to-go cup of coffee and brings it to her lips, then she's back to her work.

Unaware, entirely, that she's being watched at all.

When the strained muscles of her back can no longer bear the ache of working hunched over, she lifts with yoga precision, straightening her spine and stretching out the muscles hidden by the firm coverage of her black, leather pants and the spiked heel boots that buckle up to her calves. Both of her arms shoot high into the air, twisting at the wrist in an all-too feminine, mall-girl fashion as she works out the kinks, sighing a cloud of fog into the air above her.


Notes are stillshotted and catalogued in the wristcomp memory as window after window is opened. Batman could be looking at a heist operational plan. He could be looking at something else entirely. He takes the time to skin over the material. Then, when she's stretching, Batman makes his move.

It takes a second or so… but that's usually all it takes for Batman to launch his wrist mounted grapnel and drop down behind Lady Mastermind silently… then, Lady Mastermind hears the voice scrambled, gravelly voice behind her, inches away. "Good evening, Ms. Wyngarde." Just about literally out of nowhere, the unnerving presence of Batman makes itself known right behind her, his cape fluttering in the wind silently, posture straightened out as those red eyes watch her.


The /ch'chnk/ of the grapnel startles, Lady Mastermind, in that her shoulders stiffen and her chin twitches into her shoulder. Her jaw draps the flat-ironed strands of her hair to her parka's furry wreath. Casting the first suspicious glance over her shoulder, she catches sight of the black cape through her long, thick lashes. The corner of her painted lips tips upward, smiling through the doom-bringing presence of Gotham's protector in chief. A dark omen, if anything, to her evening research.

"I was wondering how long this was going to take until it happened." Slowly, Regan fans her arms out and holds them to her sides. The careful movements, designed to show that she's unarmed, have her long, slender fingertips reaching ot the screen of the laptop, perching to close the screen from view. "It just gets /way/ gorgeous out here this time a year, doesn't it?" The flirtatious tone in her voice is thrown over her shoulder.

She stops, fingers on the screen of her laptop, hesitating.

"Does this work better for you if I turn around or don't?" Regan muses. "You're not exactly the prettiest voice a girl wants to hear over her shoulder."


"Either way works for me." The Dark Knight responds, "I didn't come here for the view." Batman looks to the laptop, then to the back of her head. "We need to talk." A tone that doesn't invite argument. That voice scrambler makes his voice clear at least, despite the electronic quality to it. "You might have the others fooled, but I'll be keeping a close eye on you. You screw around in my city, and I will come down on you so hard, you'll wish you were back in your cell by the time I'm done with you." He leans forward, then, watching her… that unnerving presence of his an inch from her face, "Am I being very clear, Ms. Wyngarde?"


"Oh come onnnnnn!" Regan whines sensuously. Fingers fan out daintily atop the laptop, and with a push, she guides the screen to a close. "Aside from a little bit of trespassing, is it really against the law for a girl to loiter?"

Regan turns to face the Batman. The coffee cup is snared in her fingers and drawn to the breast of a halter top so pushed-upwards at the line of her cleavage, warming her skin in a feigned stilling of her own heart. Her lashes bat against each other, throwing an immature, pouty moue into the shadows as she steps to the edge of the balcony and rests her backside against it.

Only a villain like Lady Mastermind could make the toe-to-pointed ear sweep she gives the vigilante look passively salacious, but her eyes are sharp as razors, counting each pouch on his belt, each dew claw in his bracers.

"Dearheart," Regan smiles quietly. "I know you love this precious, little city, but you're ruining our first meeting by going on and on about stuff that I simply don't do anymore. Why would I want to put you through the trouble of helping me right into a cell?" Regan blithely lifts her shoulder in a shrug. "How close an eye are we talking? Like…" Regan drops 'like' in her flighty manner, as if she's /totally/ going to Tweet about this meeting.

"…like critiquing my shower singing close?"


A close inspection makes it clear that his suit is very expensive. The left forearm and bracer are a wristcomp setup with some built in launchers and computer tech accessories there, while his right forearm seems to be more about direct utility technology, made up of mostly launchers and the main grapnel setup. What space isn't taken up by technology, is taken up by extremely well designed armor sections. If someone had to go toe to toe with him, they'd better big some bring guns… because a .22 is just going to bounce off the composites he's got on there.

"Keep your nose clean, and we won't have a problem." The Batman completely ignores the flirting demeanor of Lady Mastermind, instead he walks over to the edge of the balcony himself. He stares out into the night, red eyes not giving away anything, the cape fluttering in the wind in the opposite side, now that he's turned back to the street. "I'm quite capable of keeping up with you, and much better at handling your sort than the X-men ever were. Do not try me." With that, he jumps off the balcony.


"My nose has been clean since my last checkup, I promise." Regan's lips part into a rictus grin. To emphasize, she brushes her fingertips against her nose, just like Tony Montana from Scarface. The see-sawing twist of her hips is a dance in place as she follows Batman with her eyes, winking and leaning to one side, trying to get an eye on his backside, though his cape covers it.

"So you say." Regan taunts quietly, moving to the edge of the balcony. Her gloves brush the snow away and she leans. Blonde hair dangles far over the edge as she tries to keep track of the caped Crusader. "I'm not some toxic green clown-faced giggler, you know!" Regan calls out with a laugh. "You wanna keep up with me, Batman, you'd better drive something Italian!"


The odd angle does give Lady Mastermind a decent view of said backside… and it, too, is armored, under the fluttering cape. Into night he drops, then his right arm pops out, and the telltale sound of the grapnel being fired… somewhere… is heard, and Batman disappears down a side street, out of sight.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License