City of Night (Bridget, Open)

[noko]

On the wing, Gotham looked so different.

She knew it to be a cesspool of filth and corruption... so much like the home she used to love that she found herself adoring this human mockery of her home almost enough to assuage the dull pang of homesickness in her own heart. Nokomis let herself believe, just for a moment, that she was soaring over the familiar central quarter once more as her wings bore her down the streets of the dark-shrouded city of night.

She was a particular raven - it was lost on her by now, she'd used the form so many times that she no longer even bothered to look into a glass to appreciate how different she looked. A normal raven wasn't as big as a vulture, nor did it have silver on the left wing... but then, that was Her raven.

She remembered a convenient human phrase for her feelings though... one that an elder of this world told her. She wasn't normally one to listen to a Normal's advice... but it came to her in a time of darkness, and she'd never forget it. "Home is where the heart is." Such a simple phrase. She'd seen several human cities now... they'd never be like hers, never in three hundred years at least, but... but Gotham was close enough.

Nokomis took Gotham for her own about six months ago. It, again, wasn't much compared to old Silentine, and she couldn't hope to fathom its depths of corruption in the short time she'd known it, but the Silver Acres apartment complex, room 126, was home, and it was what she made of it.

Home.

[bridget]

Bridget strolled along the city streets of Gotham. It was pretty scary compared to the other places he'd visited. It was always so rainy and dark, he also knew it was full of crime and prime hunting for his bounties. His distinctively clunky boots leaving wet footprints on the sidewalk as he sauntered in his usual happy way across the dark and dismal streets. It took him awhile to get here, but it'd be worth it. After all, he even heard about some creepy clown who likes to commit crimes and he wasn't going to just ignore that.

Bridget walked happily along until he saw a cat pass by him. Quickly, he crouched down and petted at it. He really loved animals, especially cats. It was just something about them that was cute and adorable and he honestly couldn't help but want to pet all the nice ones that he came into contact with. He then rose up, walking onward and going nowhere in particular until he came across an apartment complex with a bench nearby. Bridget saw this as a good place to rest up and so decided he'd sit down and take a look at his data device to see where the last whereabouts of this clown guy was.

"Hey, kid. This is our turf. Get out." Bridget's head snapped up from his data device as he came face to face with a group of surly looking thugs. "This is public property. I have every right to be here!" Bridget squeaked out in his usual chirpy voice, staring directly at the group of people in front of him. Bridget honestly had no real idea what to do at this point. It felt almost as if he was sure to be beaten up by this group.

(Sorry that it sucks, wasn't sure how to introduce him in)

[noko]

There was a ruffle, a flutter of wings as something beat them and drew near to the small group of thugs facing Bridget. A bird, about the size of a vulture, circled lazily in the air above them, taking no apparent interest, but getting ever closer. The one who had spoken was the big man's kid brother - that is to say, in current company, he was the acting boss. He himself didn't carry a gun, but he did carry a big chip on his shoulder and a knife that had nothing to do with cutting vegetables - it was lodged nicely in his belt.

Bridget was something of an oddity to a young man like him - a beautiful woman? He'd seen his share of traps before, both in the not-what-she-seems way and the hard-and-sharp way, and this one set off some alarms in his head - two, in fact. He didn't draw it, but the thug, no older than nineteen, put his hand on that not-so-friendly knife and stood tall, staring down his nose at the... person... on the bench. On unspoken command, the others spread out, pointedly not drawing weapons as they intently watched Bridget.

"You're not hearin' me - this is our turf, and you are in it after... "Business hours", friend." he said, with an extra order of ice to go. There was a dutiful sneer as the boys drew nearer to Bridget. They didn't look like complicated people... they looked like... well, they looked simple. Quite simple people indeed. In fact, Nokomis knew them to be, as thugs went, decent enough fellows. She'd treated each of them in her safehouse. They weren't evil, just... skittish. In a city occupied by the dark knight, who saw the "simple criminal mind", who could blame them? She landed.

Slowly, with audible clicks as boots met pavement, a figure hooded in white and red strode up, carrying what could only be called a staff... but this wasn't the 'cosplay' kind - this was the serious, made-of-oak and etched with black symbols that waivered faintly in the air kind. In fact... the whole figure seemed to tremble a little in the poor light.

One of the men gave a dutiful cough and, seeing the figure, tipped his hat and cleared his throat meaningfully. The ringleader paused and looked at his bro, saw the look he gave as he pulled out a cigarette and sheltered a match from the wind, lighting the stogie nervously, and followed his pointed not-staring-at-the-witch expression to see the figure.

It didn't speak, just leaned a little on that staff, face shrouded in a pool of black. Men like these instinctively knew how to react to their witch's presence, even if they'd only had one for a month or two. Long with a witch in the area, and you learned the appropriate response quite quickly. There was a sudden sensation of general "Weapons? No, of course we didn't even think of drawing weapons! Why no, we were just talking with out friend here"-ness, and hands fell to sides again.

Looking a bit more boyish, the thug-of-thugs looked again to Bridget.

"Okay... look - what are you doing out here at night?" he fumbled with a cigarette, and his bro lit him up. He took a grateful drag, and eyed the intruder warily. There was a hungry silence from the figure in white and red. He shot her a glance, looking entirely miserable.

"Err... Look, man" he said, getting it right first go "Just..." The witch cleared her throat - her, it was unmistakable. The thugs had the look of boys caught doing something naughty. Petty robbery and mindless territory warring had been curbed lately in this part of Gotham City, and it was becoming increasingly obvious why. Even with his apparent authority, the man diverted to the witch and gave up on trying to make a bigger mockup of his street respect. Better all round to let the witch handle this, if she was here. It wasn't the same kind of respect they gave a person who would... hurt them, per se. It was the kind of respect they gave somebody who was... very good at doing no harm, but could, if the need arose, could make you very uncomfortable indeed. She had weight, and she didn't need a gun to have it.

Nokomis approached the bench and, from the pool of shadow in her hood, examined Bridget closely, eyes glinting from beneath and locks of vibrantly violet hair glinted in the street's lights. She gave off the air that, without doubt, she was sizing up this crossdressing young man quite intently.

"So... You don't look like someone here for a stroll... This is a rough part of town, hm?" she said with a thick european accent. "Not a place with much... public." it had to be english, but it wasn't... quite english. There was ice, and a question behind these observations though. The silence that followed was quite hungry indeed - it... NEEDED filling.

[bridget]

Bridget's blue eyes widened when the thugs drew in closer. They even mentioned something about business hours and such. "You have no right calling what you do business! It's totally illegal, you're nothing but thugs and bullies picking on me." he chirped out somewhat angrily. He was attempting to intimidate the gangbangers but really failed, probably not able to even give them one thought he might be a force to be reckoned with. Worst part was, Bridget didn't even have Roger with him. Often at times like these Roger was able to form into a somewhat intimidating weapon to save him from ne'er-do-wells and the robotic bear was a godsend when it came to encounters such as this one.

Suddenly, before Bridget had to brace for the attack, a figure emerged from the shadows and who seemed very much supernatural. However, this kind of thing was nothing new to the well travelled bounty hunter. Bridget had seen everything from vampires to cyborgs, so whatever powers this lady possessed were nothing too new. Still, the great part is these thugs seemed to actually fear her. "Oh, this is awesome!" Bridget thought to himself, smiling smugly as his blue clad butt had just been saved by this rather oddly dressed person.

Soon, the possible leader fussed with a cigarette while staring at the young bounty hunter and asked what he was exactly doing out at this hour. "Weeell.... he said in his chirpy British accent, dragging out the middle of the word as he was trying to think of what to say next. "...I'm a bounty hunter, and I don't get much work... Sooo, I thought I'd come find the Joker!" Bridget said rather proudly, almost as if he really thought he could bring down Joker and his criminal empire. Honestly, Bridget wasn't really fit to fight against such well armed opponents. He had potential, sure. However, Bridget was often found to get too far in over his head, usually ending up having to be bailed out of trouble by Officer Kiske or the Jellyfish Pirates.

Bridget still had his big eyes shut tightly, his grin permanently fixed onto his face. However, the thug correctly guessing he's male made it all the more better. Bridget often had trouble with people mistaking his gender. Yet this guy got it right! "Awesome!" Bridget thought to himself, stifling a happy squeak at the fact he's not been called a female again.

Soon enough, the shadowy figure moved to him and starting talking to the young bounty hunter! That accent was something you don't often hear in a place such as Gotham. Then again, neither was the shrill British one that belonged to Bridget. "I'm here on business!" he chirped out, tilting his head towards the shadowy woman.