Off the Wagon

January 24, 2018:

After his surprisingly wholesome night with Harley, Owen gets blitzed and then thrown out of a gentleman's club (strip club) and starts a good ol' brawl. Spoiler swings in to put a stop to it and Owen is a dick about it.

Gotham's East End

It's like a shadier version of Atlantic City but crammed into a corner of Gotham.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

It's late. Owen tried to stay in. Harley was a wonder, showing up like a whirlwind dressed in fishnets and leather and taking him out away from his problems. But their night ended an hour or two ago and Owen was still too wired. Well, too wired and too aware of the package sitting in his backpack. Waiting. So he chose the slightly lesser of two evils and booked it out of his apartment, not trusting himself to even be around it.

Which brings us to know where a drunk Owen is being literally tossed out Jazzy Jeff style from a gentleman's club in Gotham's East End. "How many times we gotta tell you red, the girls are not allowed to slap or whip you!" Owen goes skidding out into the snow and ice, his jacket flying after him. He gets up and brushes himself off. With a dark look on his face, he comes in swinging for the bouncer, who is easily twice his size. Even without his speed, or his weapons, Owen is more than a match for the guy though.

Soon more bouncers and even some patrons are coming out to join in the 'fun.' Owen is more than ready. He is still banged up enough from his fights with demon-infested Stark gear and the Professor Zoom. It feels good to just punch a normal person. Heck even getting cracked across the head with a beer bottle feels like a welcome return to… something.


Spoiler wasn't far away. In fact, she was perched in a shadow, wrapped warming, running a simple patrol tonight, when Owen was thrown out of the bar. She watched as he proceeded to get into a street fight. Still, she didn't move. Not until Owen gets cracked in the head and seems to stagger slightly, does she move to get involved. Zip line down, staff out, Spoiler even injured moves to make quick work of the bouncers so none can get a hit in on her and make her ribs worse.


Owen does stagger a bit and in the process gets hit a few times. He is mid judo toss of another patron when he sees the cape come fluttering in. He stops fighting and even gets cracked across the face as he stares in disbelief as it appears that not only is a bat hero coming to his defense but it's the one he just met the other night in New York of all places.

"What the fuck do you think yer doin Malibu Batgirl?"

He picks up the broken bottle and actually brandishes it in her direction. "Did anyone ask for your help?" He kicks one of the men on the ground. "What about you skippy? You call for the homecoming princess to save you?"


"Breaking up a street fight, Ken-doll," Spoiler retorts, flat lavender-white eyes on the remaining bouncers.

"Take yours and go back inside," she tells them, moving to put her staff between Owen and the rest lest he kick at them again.

"Soemtimes, you don't have to ask. Now, shut up and back up. You're mess," she tells Owen, eyes sliding towaqrd him briefly.


"You are spoiling my fun ya purple my little pony." What? That one doesn't even make any sense, though he did start out strong with the spoiling bit. He kicks at her staff hoping to knock the top back at her. He throws the bottle aside at wall near the bouncers, not wanting to admit that he wouldn't actually use that on her.

"I might be a hot mess, but I will still kick yer ass girlie-girl. Hashtag go fu*& yourself."

Okay that was a little better from the snark department. But even he's questioning if he will. They just fought side by side. He knows this is what bat folks do. But that was his fun! … his distraction.


The men figuring this is a thing best left to the batling, they retreat, letting Spoiler turn her full attention to Owen.

"The purple pony is Twilight Sparkle, and yes. I'm spoiling your fun, before your fun leaves you face down in the snow bleeding out," Spoiler says, letting her staff hit herself in the shoulder. She turns it into a spin to return it to the small of her back.

"You go right ahead and try," she fires back, folding her arms over her chest to fend off the ache in her sides from her still mending ribs. The more she moves like she just did the longer they will take to heal. And don't start her on the concussion.


Arrgh. It's not fun if she doesn't take a swing at him. Then he's just punching a possible teenage girl. And that … wow, it turns out there actually is something beneath him. That's surprising. He quirks his eyebrow as she explains, "Oh god of course you know that. How does anyone take you seriously?"

Disgusted that she isn't going to fight him, or let him fight these guys he just bahs at her and turns to walk off. "Whatever. Leave me alone. Oh and another thing.." He turns now, finding a second wind of indignation. "Yer fu*&in' welcome for the help the other night. Considering I'm pretty sure Bats was gonna let you rot in that alley or get raped by a dark evil demon Stark bot. Fu*&in' amateur."

With that out of his system he starts to walk off before stopping again to turn and start in with "And what the hell is wrong with him? Does he love putting kids in mortal danger? Like oooo let's dress up some toddlers in spandex and send 'em off to fight supervillains? WHO DOES THAT?!?!" Because if there were no Robin… well, there would have been no Robin's dad.


It's sometimes annoying that everyone thinks Stephanie is still in high school. Other times, the twenty-one year old uses it to her advantage without remorse. RIght now? She's just glad he doesn't take her up on her offer for a fist fight. She waits as he starts to walk off, already mentally ready to tail him from the shadows just to make sure he gets home already. Team-up, after all. He turns back and Spoiler lifts her chin.

"Thank you," she tells Owen somehow managing to keep it from sounding like she's being sarcastic. Probably because she isn't being sarcastic. She waits again, watching him og only for him to round back at her.

"First off, my decisions are my own. Who dressed me up in spandex and set me on a super villian?" Spoiler says, annoyance sparking past her better judgement. She takes a step into Owen, knowing from the Bat Computer what this guy's done to Tim, but knowing what he did for her a mere few days ago.

"I DID. I made that choice. I forced the issue. I'd be trained by him or by trail and error. You want someone to blame, you go right ahead and tell me my life choices are terrible and I'll tell you: I got the bastard."


"It doesn't count now!!" He has to turn back around, yet again. He is not very effective as his flouncing off. "That's apology cheating!" No, that's not a thing Owen.

"Oh, and you think that makes it okay? Well whoopdie freakin do. Your life choices are terrible. People die because kids think this.." Here he indicates her in all her costumed glory ".. is a good idea." Yea, that's one very specific way of looking at the death of Jack Drake. A really convenient one for Owen that leaves out about a billion factors and all of his culpability.

He just throws his hands up at this and stalks off again. More booze. Another fight? No, screw it. He's going home. Why not? He has no job. No powers. No responsibility. And he just probably undid any good will he had built up in his stupid redemption plan. Fuck. It.


Spoiler tilts her head at apology cheating. What the heck? #IsThatAThing? #IDontThinkThatsAThing She doesn't comment though. Not when he rants at her about her horrible life choices, about the mess she's made, the number of times she and Tim have both nearly died, of how great an idea she thought this was and… how it so isn't.

"I know," she murmurs softly, agreeing with Owen as he turns and stalks away. A grapple line up, Spoiler settles in to tailk him home and spoil anyone's plans to harass him on the way home.


It catches him off guard. No one tells Owen he's right. Seriously, we're talking like count on one hand here. Because in general, as a rule, Owen is not right. His pace slows for a fraction of a step, but he recovers it. His resolve from earlier to avoid the bad decision of a relapse is gone. A good majority of his defenses have been broken down from everything over the last couple of weeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so. fuckin. sorry." he whispers it. There is no way she could hear and he doesn't mean for her too. He's barely even talking to her. His jaw clenches and he sets his face down towards the concrete, quickening his pace home. His home is apparently a place in Red Hook, an apartment building called the Gotham Arms.

Coming in the door he, haphazardly throws off his outer wear, and then his shirt. It's bad decision time. And not the sexy fun kind. He opens the bag and retrieves the drugs he purchased earlier. And that is how Owen falls off the wagon.

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