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When Old Friends Meet

October 5th, 2001

Participants: Nightwing, Huntress, Azrael, and Martyr

Scene: Once again reacquainted with his old home of Gotham, Dick takes to the rooftops of the city in his identity of Nightwing, helping to keep the streets of Gotham safe in his own fashion. And in the process of doing so, runs into an old friend...

Chelsea [Central Gotham]
The centerpiece for this area of the central island is Gotham State University and much of what exists here caters to the students and faculty. Foremost of the hangouts which have sprung from the university is Kingston Square, home of numerous bookstores, coffee shops and nightclubs. Another popular hangout is Burnley Harbor along the western shore of the island and often refered to as Gotham's "Little Bohemia" and the most eccentric of Gotham's 'Art' crowd can often be found here in the cafes and along the streets just ashore from the docks of many private boats and commercial shipping companies.
People and Things:
Huntress
Roads: [NE] - Coventry [W] - Gotham State University
Archways: [E] - Robinson Park
Ramps: [N] - Trigate Bridge -- Gotham River
Other exits: [GD] Glass Doors to Hyde Towers [S] Bridge to Upper West Side

Evening creeps up over Gotham, only traces of the setting sun lingering in the western sky. A thick bank of clouds rolls across the ever darkening skies, blocking out the stars and moon above, leaving only the twinkling lights of the city to illuminate the growing dark. A chill breeze sweeps across the cityscape from the north, the snap of cold in the air holding the promise of winter still to come. Down on the streets below, the last of the rush hour traffic still congests the streets of Gotham, men and women hurrying home for the evening.

All of that is noted by the silent figure that perches on the rooftop ledge of a local building, peering down over the rushing people below even as he himself remains wrapped in the shadows. Hands resting on the well worn brick that serves as his perch, Nightwing studies the city below, searching for anything off -- anything just a little out of place. And though the streets are crowded still, there are no tell tale signs that anything is wrong. Not that there would. There are still hours to pass before the streets will likely grow quiet enough for the cities underside to creep out of their holes. But that doesn't stop the man from pursuing his distant vigil.

There is a Hunter out on the prowl. Having spent most of the day and previous night recovering from yesterday's encounter with a vial of fear toxin, Huntress has once again hit the streets to patrol. She hasn't had time to go back to report to Azrael yet; she can do that later. For the time being, she has a very specific target in mind, one not normally on the 'prey' end of the hunt.

Tonight she's chosen to hit the pavement rather than hop through the rooftops, although she knows thats where her prey would be most likely found. She's not sure if he'd be returning to his work so soon, and so, stretched out along a windowsill she waits, awtching the floods of people below as they go about their ways...that is, til she spots the familiar face of one of her students down below. The young man is swept up by a trio of business suits (Judging by the look on his face, not entirely willingly) and guided along. Huntress climbs higher, headed for the ledge on the third level of this building so that she can follow along and see where he's going. Her hunt for Nightwing is delayed..sort of.

Ahhh, dark and dingy Gotham. How he's missed it lately. Lips twitching in a brief moment of amusement, Nightwing's eyes continue to roam across the crowds below, peering intently at the bustling mob that hurries along the walks lining the street. At least until his eyes are drawn to a ledge across and down the street from him, just the slightest hint of familiarity catching his interest out of the corner of the eye. Staring with interest at the distant ledge he stands slowly, leaving his perch on the roofs edge, hopping down from the thin rail of brick that runs along the length of the building.

Behind him, the wind catches an abandonned sheet of newsprint, stirring it to life and dragging it into the air with a fluttering rustle. Turning for just a moment to glance at the unnexpected noise, his attention is nevertheless drawn back to that distant ledge -- eyes struggling to pierce the play of shadows cast by the streetlights below. Falling into a trot, he jogs across the roof of the building, hopping back up onto to the ledge and jumping the small gap between the shops with ease, landing steadily on the roof of the next building down. Yep, his interest is caught now. Certainly whatever is down the street has to be a little more interesting then watching the evening's traffic flow past.

For the moment, at least, Huntress has no reason to look anywhere but down to where her young student is being led away. The flow itself doesn't seem so out of place with so many others going, but she has noticed thos boy's change of behaviour and apparent nervousness, known something was wrong for a week or so now. It's only chance that she happens to see him being led now, and a good thing that she happens to moonlight as a crimefighter as the boy is starting to actively protest when the three men turn down a short street and approach a parked car.

Ah well, so much for being stealthy anyway. Huntress dives off the ledge, twisting around so she can be in a good position to have her foot slam nicely into the skull of one of the men. Even as he's still falling the second man is fed a knuckle sandwich, while 'Eric' covers his face with his arms defensively, leaving one more man to knock down. Huntress has to regain her footing, but at least there's confusion to help buy her enough time to do so. Unfortunately, in her shortsightedness she also idn't plan ahead for backup--which there is, in the form of a pair of men inside the car. The tinted window is shattered by a rain of bullets just as the car driver hits the gas and screams off. Huntress, instead of attacking the remaining one of the trio, kicks Eric in the chest, sending him toppling backward in time to avoid being shot, and sending Huntress landing rather unceremoniously on her back. The third man is tearing down the street.

His interest peeked by the stealthy if quick moving figure that hurries across the ledge, Nightwing quickens his pace on the far side of the street -- light, fluid steps carrying him noiselessly across the narrow ridge that runs along the length of the buildings. His eyes dart dart continuously down to the street and back up to the ledge, a faint frown threatening to breakout across his features. Yes, something certainly seems to be going on, and Nightwing is determined to discover what precisely is happening.

As the path of the figure of interest alters down a narrow side street leading away from the main throughway leading through the neighbourhood, the masked man on the roofs hesitates for only an instant before a silvery, metallic blade appears in his hand -- a thin filament attached to the center of the oddly shaped blade. Grasping the line firmly in one gauntleted hand, he draws his arm back quickly before bringing it forward sharply, flicking his wrist as he hurls the metal symbol across the broad road. The wingding sinks into the brick of the building across the street, anchoring itself firmly there and the masked crimefighter dives off the building without hesitation, trusting the line to hold. Falling downward rapidly, he draws his legs up and soars across the street coming to a quick halt as he plants his feet firmly onto the ground just beyond the corner that leads down the shadowed side street. Making quick note of the two people laying on the ground with a third person already tearing down the street, he quickly races along the sidewalk, pausing for just an instant as he nears the fallen duo and picks out the familiar figure who tickled his senses. "I should have known. Are you both alright?" Nightwing asks quickly, his eyes darting towards the Huntress for a moment before they flicker back towards the fleeing figure seeking escape from the masked vigilante who descended upon him moments earlier.

"What kind of question is that!" Eric demands as he crabwalks back, and then he, too is rising to his feet to run away as quickly as he can. In the opposite direction as the third of the trio. He doesn't look back, although on the ground where he'd fallen his wallet is left behind, its contents spilled...some ID, a University pass, a library card, a couple small bills, a packet of smooth white powder.

Huntress rolls back up onto her side, meanwhile, lifting after a startled pause upon seeing Nightwing. For a moment she's rather confused, but relieved at the same time. "Fine." she states shortly, shaking her head back to its senses for now...time for 'pleasentries' after the work part is done. "Where is he? Did he get away?" and Nightwing gets one of those 'it's all your fault' kin dof looks.

"He hasn't. Yet," Nightwing replies shortly, tossing a glance back over his shoulder towards the departing form of the teenager. But that matter can wait for further explaination. It would seem that he has someone to stop before digs his way even further into someone's bad books. His attention turns back up the street in the direction of the final member of the now mostly downed trio, expression turning grim as his long strides slip quickly into a sprint. Reaching back over his shoulder, the masked man pulls one of the escrima sticks resting there loose. In a smooth overhand motion, he brings the stick across his body before releasing it on it's way.

With remarkable accuracy, the weapon skims through the air on it's low path and a mere instant after Nightwing has released the stick from his hand, it thumps heavily into the back of the fleeing man's knee. With an audible yelp of pain, the large figure crumples to the street grasping the back of his leg. Certain that he's going nowhere soon, Nightwing's headlong dash slowly to a more leisurely, ground-eating trot and he soon reaches the fallen thugs side. "That was rather rude of you to rush off like that. I don't think my friend was done with you yet," he quips grimly, reaching down to retrieve the stick from the pavement and return it to its place on his back. That down, he grasps the fallen figure by the collar of his jacket and begins to drag him back up the narrow street the man continues to groan, clutching his leg painfully. Hey, serves him right.

The scene is pretty simple: Two men are now unconscious and being lumped into a pile back to back by Huntress, each having been easily conquered. The men are in rather nice business suits. A third man is being dragged back by Nightwing, still conscious but painfully clutching one of his legs. In the opposite direction that Nightwing is coming from, a young man in hsi early twenties, dressed differently and looking much more fearful--a civilian--is running away as fast as his legs'll carry him and screaming for police.

Huntress drops the second man into position behind the first and his head konks on the pavement. She doesn't seem to be phased by it. "Thanks for the help." she mutters with a smirk, unclipping a pair of cuffs from her belt and offering them out to Nightwing. "Although I had everything under control." The words are a combination of humor and only a touch of indignation. Being 'rescued' seems to happen too often these days.

Despite the burden being dragged about behind him, Nightwing quickly brings his own little bundle backup the sidestreet, depositing him next to his friends without a good deal of gentleness. Which naturally sparks another series of pained moans as the last of the trio lays on the pavement, clutching the back of his leg. "Not a problem. I don't think that he'll be going anywhere soon. Not before the police arrive at least," he replies, letting her thanks pass by without a great deal of comment. His masked gaze falls upon the other two fallen men, taking note of their suits and, well, unconscious state. "And it seems you've taken care of his two friends. Any idea what all that was about?" he inquires, lifting his eyes towards the Huntress once more as he takes a step back from the matched set of criminals on the pavement. As he does so he tosses an absent glance down towards the contents of the young man's pocket -- left behind in his abrupt flight. "Or shall I take a wild guess?" he murmurs softly, nudging the small packet of white powder with the toe of his boot. Yep, that certainly helps eliminate a fair amount of the guesswork.

Tiny Red is what his friends call him. Though, he is actually quite large. More obese than anything else, however. He was with his pal when the guys in suits came out of nowhere but he, but he got nervous and ran before they could catch him. But, he did come back - only to find two costumed vigilantes on the verge of beating up his friends. He watched as they were brought down fast, and shook in fear the entire time. What was he suppose to do? These guys are pretty tough, but he does have a gun. His pal would really be mad if he did not at least try to help them out. So, from about forty feet away from where Nightwing and Huntress talk, the round man pulls out his nickel-plated pistol, then aims fidgety with one eye closed. Pow! Tiny Red goes flying through the air, and out of his hiding place, only to come crashing down onto the sidewalk face-first. Unconscious. Out of the shadows sleekly walks Azrael, clad in his crimson and gold armor.

"Just Eric going through something he shouldn't have to," Huntress had replied to Nightwing, giving the conscious guy a glare. "I have half a mind to break every bone in -his- body and leave him for his pals to--" And it is then that a fourth man flies from the shadows. Huntress immediately turns, dropping to a defensive stance and cursing herself for not having through that far ahead. Her mind had been set too narrowly, only on Eric. Rescued again.

She relaxes a bit once she sees the familiar armor of Azrael and allows a half smile to each of the men. "I -really- could have handled everything myself..."

Turning his attention away from the scattered personal items on the ground, Nightwing listens mutely to her explanation, nodding his head once, shortly. The sudden noise from up the narrow street abruptly rings out and Nightwing half turns, immediately reaching back over his shoulder to grasp one of the sticks there as the large form emerges rather forcefully -- landing heavily on the pavement before them. It's not until the armoured form of Azrael follows afterward that he releases the stick, hand falling back to his side. Well, well, well. It's just a convention of heroes tonight. A who's who of Gotham's vigilantes. Dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement of the aid, he looks over the heavy set man no laying unconscious on the pavement. "The authorities are in for quite a haul once they arrive. Though I doubt they'll have a whole lot of words of thanks for us after they try to lift our newest friend into their car," he states drily, gaze drifting between the Huntress and the newest arrival. "Whoever this Eric's friends were, they seem to like to travel in packs."

Most of Azrael is covered by his long, crimson cloak, which embraces his body like a second-skin. For the moment, both Huntress and Nightwing are nothing more than scenery to the figure. More pressing matters are at hand. Silently, he moves from his shadowy sanctuary and over to where Tiny Red remains utterly motionless. But, choosing to be on the safe side, Azrael bends down over the tubby man, then checks his pulse on the neck with two of his gloved fingers. Alive. Standing back up, the armored man looks over his shoulder towards the other two vigilantes with his blank-white eyelets, then nods sharply. A silent greeting.

No such check is done for the two that Huntress took out. She steps away from them and after a moment of hesitation reaches down to quickly scoop up the wallet, money and cards that Eric left behind. She leaves the spilled packet of cocaine on the ground where it fell and with no explanation to her two teammates. "And speaking of the authorities, we should probably get out of here and back to the heights before we end up with more trouble than we'd care for." she looks up to the closest building as she makes the suggestion. "Might be a good time ot get Nightwing up to date, and I've an update on one of the 'missions' you gave me, Azrael...It'll help explain why I didn't check in last night."

Martyr has arrived.

In the distance, the sound of police sirens cuts through the night air, rising up above the sound of traffic out on the main roadway leading through the neighbourhood. But otherwise the narrow side street remains quiet, undistrubed by traffic. If any of the passing pedestrians had any desire to take this route to their destination, the shadowy figures lingering just outside the reach of the overhead streetlights seem to give them pause, encouraging them to find a different route through the city. "If you want," Nightwing replies with a small shrug of his broad shoulders, slowly walking towards the nearest building. No further questions pass his lips to ask just what it is he needs to be caught up on, leaving that for later -- once the trio is off the streets. With one last glance towards the fallen quartet they're leaving in their wake, Nightwing trots the last few steps to close the distance with the building before hopping up, grasping the bottom rung of a somewhat rusted fire escape ladder. With a metallic groan of protest it slips a few inches before catching on something above and coming to a shuddering stop. Still, that doesn't bother the masked man as he simply drags himself upward until reaching the metal grating that forms the first of a series of platforms that lead up to the roof.

When Huntress turns back to speak to Azrael, he has vanished from where he was once standing only moments ago. To the untrained eye, the figure is completely gone, and left absolutely no trace behind. However, although he has the ability to simply fade away, much like his mentor can, he did not do that this evening. Instead, clinging onto the top of a public bus, his cloak rustling wildly from the wind, Azrael leaves. He did what needed to be done, and had no intentions of being a third wheel. Whether or not he heard Huntress' suggestion is left unknown.

Azrael has left.

Moving about one of the Rooftops nearbye is a figure all in black, keeping as silent and as close into the shadows as he can be. Eyes of white look out to the street eyes going to the fallen quartet before heading further along the tops.

"...And I do." Huntress says in response to Nightwing, watching him climb up. Showoff. She follows, except taking a slightly different route and taking a little more time to get there, but she does manage to get up to the roof eventually. "Azrael, y---?" she now notices his absence, figuring at first that he must have simply moved more quickly than the other two, but when he is nowhere to be seen she frowns a little. She confirms that Nightwing i still there, though. "Well that was odd...I guess it's just us." she shrugs, "Good to see you back, and I'm glad you could find time in your busy schedual to care about what happens in Gotham City. You've been gone a while." Not that she should talk, she had left the city--left being the Huntress, too--and only came back about 2 weeks ago.

Scampering up the rest of interconnected metal ladders and platforms quickly and with ease, Nightwing crests the top of the building in short order, stepping over the ridge of brick and concrete lining the edge of the roof before turning to wait for the Huntress who follows after just seconds after. But nope, no Azrael follows her and once more a faint half smile forms on the man's expression for an instant before disappearing. No wonder people find it so irritating when Batman does that to them.

The moment of amusement is short lived however and at the Huntress' sharp words Nightwing's expression becomes serious once more; guarded. "I'm here when I can be. You should know that. I have other commitments just as important," he replies quietly and simply, dark eyes peering about the shadows that criss-cross the rooftop. "Besides, I've heard that it's been fairly quiet while I've been busy elsewhere." Okay, so it's not the greatest defense. In fairness he shouldn't really need one. But he still feels to need to present one considering the present company.

His jumps over slightly changing to another rooftop, and he pauses, in a crouching pose, gathering his breath. Now does light catch Martyr as he waits in criss crossed shadows , eyes looking about as he surveys that about him.

"'Quiet'?" Huntress questions, and then points over at the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately when she's focused on one thing she's not really the best at paying attention to other things,that's still something she has yet to correct. "Down there, we saw the proof of something quiet, but it's still happening. Those kids can get drugs far too easily and if we don't keep those jerks from spreading it throughout Gotham City then who is? If I hadn't been here to stop them from taking Eric, what would have happened? What if you hadn't been here to back me up? What if Azrael hadn't been here to back -both- of us up?" then, rather abruptly, she clamps her jaw shut and looks very directly at Nightwing. In a much lower tone and a solid frown she apologizes, "Damn, Nightwing, that's not much of a 'welcome back', is it? I'm sorry. I'm not doing a very good job of this 'getting along' assignment, am I?"

"I know," Nightwing replies quietly, eyes narrowing slightly as his gaze slides across the rooftop and back again before finally coming to rest on the masked heroine in front of him. "It's an old story and none of us can be in place to stop this sort of thing every single time. I don't like the fact that I haven't been able to make more time to be around Gotham lately," he continues softly, speaking as much to himself as he does to her. At his side, his gauntleted hand slowly clenches and relaxes rhymatically. "But these problems aren't just limited to here, and not everywhere else is fortunate enough to have capable people like you and Azrael around to keep on top of things. It's not like I've been relaxing, you know," he says, his tone still a little defensive before he forces a note of calm back into it, even allowing a half smile to filter over his features. "I know it's frustration talking. Don't worry about it. There's nothing you said that I haven't thought a time or two. But in the end we can only do the best we can."

Martyr pauses as his ears catches voices and he stands up slowly, keeping to the shadows, almost melding if he could, save the white eyes and the cross on his chest slightly showing, and with painstaking silence he starts to creep, on the balls of his feet towards where he hears the noise, slowly placing a hand at his shoulder, in his coat. eyes towards wehre the sound is coming from.

The Huntress doesn't have as good a power of hearing as Nightwing...
"I suppose so." Huntress moves away from the edge as police arrive down below, settling into the shadows. "I only hope that my best is good enough. A few days back I watched a druglord get shot by a sniper. Scarecrow has been caught and escaped about five times now, there's some crazed 'assassin' fellow who's assaulted one civilian about five times now, and no one seems to be able to figure out why. The Joker has been on a bit of a rampage, poisoning the water supply, blowin gup stores, leaving litters of dead clowns all oevr Gotham, and now, suddenly, nothing...not a peep, not a jack-in-the-box, no exploding rubber chickens, nothing. Halloween isn't far off, and I'm starting to worry that the whole lot of them might be trying to cook something up." she shrugs a bit, "I guess I just need some help, old friend...And to know who's going to be covering my back for me."

For a moment Nightwing closes his eyes, nodding his head in response even as he stiffles a sigh. The sentiments are understandable -- ones that he can sympathize with. "I guess Robin was understating things a bit when he said that things had been quiet," he replies, his eyes sliding open once more as he turns his attention back towards her. Nope, nothing ever is easy in Gotham City. But that is part of what makes it worthwhile to remain. "I do have other responsibilities that I can't ignore, but I'll try to spend more time in the city. It might only make a small difference, but hopefully that'll be enough," he continues, drifting over towards the ledge of the building. "You know if you need help, I'll be there," he states firmly. That much, at least, he can promise.

Lifting one foot up onto the brick ledge, Nightwing peers out over the edge of the building, down towards the street below where the police have begun to herd the unfortunate quartet into the two patrol cars. While the three unconscious men don't put up any sort of struggle, their dead weight causes more then a few muttered curses from the officers. The last of the suited men continues to whine loudly about the injury to his leg to anyone who'll listen. Not that anyone has a great deal of patience to do so. They might be back on the streets by tomorrow, but at least for one night four less troublemakers are out and about to trouble decent citizens.

Huntress
Long black hair hangs freely down over the shoulders of this masked woman, brushed back from her eyes but still free to flow in the breeze as it wishes. Her face is young but any details about its features are hidden behind a purple mask. She stands confidently enough, usually with a bit of a challenging edge in the positioning of her fists and feet alone.
Her costume is a solid black and purple skinfitting length of material that covers the length of her body from neck down to her toes. The purple stretches down over the black across her breasts, where a golden cross hangs from around her neck. Her hands are covered by purple gloves, her feet clad in purple boots. The back of her right arm houses a black mini-bolt launcher. An auxilliary pouch is strapped to her left leg. Around her waist she wears a utility belt upon which there are several small pouches. The buckle over her abdomen holding the belt closed looks remarkably like a black bat on a golden background.

Martyr pauses almost as he looks towards the one who just crawled up and the hand leaves the inside of his coat to unsheathe one of the Billy clubs behind him, as he can't make out whom it exactly is and his voice comes out hushed, muted British accent going to the one before him "Who goes there..."

Huntress nods once to Nightwing. "And I'm trying to be there for the rest of you. It's hard for me to...well, you know how it is with me." Huntress is silent for a moment, but a moment is all it takes for her to hear Martyr's demand of Nightwing. She steps back into the shadows, tryign to mask her presence as she tries to place the voice. She succeeds, remembering him from a few nights ago, and clenches a fist. She waits to see how Nightwing reacts to it before she chooses to do anything, however...

"I know..." the masked man begins to reply when the new voice calls out through the shadows that play across the rooftop, the voice clearly audible despite the brisk autumn breeze that sweeps across the tops of the shops and apartments in the neighbourhood. Turning slowly without seeming truly taken aback, Nightwing's hand slides up to rest against his back, his gauntled fist resting lightly on one of the escrima sticks resting there -- though not yet tugging it free of it's resting place. "I could ask the same of you," he calls back, tossing a quick glance towards the Huntress as she eases back into the shadows and gives the barest of nods -- silently agreeing with her decision. But unlike her, he does not recognize the voice and remains wary, eyes narrowing as they scan the darkness that cling to the little nooks offered by the rooftop. "Show yourself."

Martyr nods his head and he steps out slightly letting the slightest bit of light catch him " I'm out here..and you're there..so who are you? Tell me and I will give you my name as well." simple so far, not as hostile as he seemed with Azrael, but he was different.

Martyr
Standing before you is a wiry man. His skin pale and creamy, but not as white as the cropped thick hair he has. His face is angulaur cup crisply to stand proud when seen. His eyes dark enough brown to be black. He has no facial hair and is clean cut for the most part. His frame is wiry, so his muscles are well distributed, Not overly strong, but strong enough.
His clothing is Dark, just as if it showed his demeanor. A black body suit which hugs to his body covers him for the most part. The black boots, made in it that protect his feet. It shows what muscles his sleek and wiry figure has. A White cross that extends from the neck to his waist and the arms that go to his shoulders.
To see his face would be hard as a mask of a darker black, just slightly protects it. It shows no face what so ever, just blank, save the angular white eyes that seem to be narrowed looking to you, and his white hair spiked and splayed out the top. This tucks down into the suit.
Then about his wast you notice a belt that travels all the way around it, various slots for things on it as well as a holster to his right hip, going down slightly to the thigh, another holster rests on his left shoulder, holding a gun, same as the one at his hip. But it would be hard to see as His body is shrouded by a long black coat, two handles slightly sticking up in the back from an X shaped sling which rsts comfotably and snugly along the back and coat.
You know what you are looking at. one of those whom stalks the night..a predator.

Huntress tries to silently double back, intending to get to the other side or at least behind Martyr. She's quite sure of Nightwing's abilities, and it'd really be a shame for someone else to pound Martyr without her, so once she's in position she warns, "It'd be unwise, ~Martyr~, to pick a fight with that one. I've seen you fight and you're certainly no match for him, he's got the grace and style of an angel. I suggest you come out and make your intentions known." she sounds almost amused, but also has a twist of seriousness in there too.

As the Huntress continues to creep around the edge of the rooftop, Nightwing continues to play his role as distraction, seemingly remaining reluctant to divulge his identity at the insistance of some stranger. "Funny, you don't look very familiar. And I thought I knew everyone in this city who liked to creep around up here. I guess I really have been spending too much time away," Nightwing says lightly, keeping attention on himself until at last the Huntress reaches her position on the far side of the roof. "It would seem that my friend already knows you. I guess I don't need your name afterall, friend. But in the interest of keeping things nice and civil, you can have it anyways. I'm Nightwing, and I really hope you're not looking for trouble," he says almost amiably. As a show of good faith, he allows his hand to release the stick at his back, falling back to his side impassively. Yep, it's good to have friends. One can afford these sorts of magnanimous gestures when one has backup.

Martyr nods slightly as as one man lets his go, he sheathes his as well " I'm Martyr. My intentions good if you are who you say you are." he states as he comes forward and he turns his head slightly watching Huntress " I see we're not all chums anymore.."

Huntress steps out to where she's a little more visible. "It's not so much that, really, as it is us doing our job. Nightwing there is my...friend...and you see we have a responsibility to keep the people of Gotham City safe and to stop them from doing stupid things." she has a glint of steel in her hand, "You know, stupid things like getting themselves pounded by snipers, stupid things like challenging Azrael..." she grins over at Nightwing, who would also know how stupid a move that really is. "Things like that."

Martyr looks towards Huntress and raises a brow "As I recall you got pounded by the sniper and you were out in one hit, so don't go throwing me in that boat." a simple stratement and he narrows his eyes " I didn't know him,s o who am I supposed to think it is in the bottom of Crane's old place hmm? explain to me that?"

Well now, it doesn't take a genius to see that these two are not precisely enamored with one another, does it? He might not know the specifics of which they speak, but he certainly recognize tension when he sees it. And this rooftop is just thick with it right now. As Martyr turns his attention to the Huntress behind him, Nightwing finally tugs his own gaze from the man, his eyes darting towards her as well -- a silent question therein. But those questions can wait for the time being. "I think her point is the fact that you didn't know. A little knowledge can be a powerful thing. A lack of it can be deadly," he states quietly, remaining fixed in place on the opposite side of the roof, confident that should the need arise he can intervene effectively from here. Certainly the last of the men stuffed into the police cars down below can give silent testement to that fact. Falling silent, he allows the Huntress to take charge of the situation she is clearly more familiar with then himself.

Huntress actually laughs quietly, "Part of the point, yes. Nightwing understands, he taught it to me once. I've got a nice concussion from that hit from the sniper, and I've been doing this for a while now. The difference is, I know what I'm dealing with." she steps a little further out, puffing up her chest and lookin' all macho-like. "You shouldn't be out here doing this, you're going to get yourself killed. You don't know anything about the kind of people you're dealing with, and by not knowing, and arming yoruself like that and trying to be a hero, you're as much a danger to yourself and Gotham City as that sniper was."

Martyr looks at her and narrows his eyes and he simply laughs, Now that Zealot attitude is showing and he speaks up "Why do you all think the same. That I'm trying to be a hero. It's not that simple. I am here because God called me out. I am to be his hand in this, Not anyone elses, not even my own."

Uh... huh. That particular statement and the fact this strange man has chosen to call himself 'Martyr' is not exactly instilling a great deal of confidence in Nightwing. With another wary glance towards the Huntress, he composes his features into an impassive mask. "There's no real crime in roaming the roofs of the city, no matter how odd," he says quietly. Well, perhaps tresspassing. But they are just roofs afterall. "But whether you're out here on a religious calling or not, I'd suggest you take care not to endanger anyone with your... antics. I'm perfectly happy to just warn you. But then, it's not my city," he says, turning his attention back towards the laughing man. "But Batman will take a dimmer view if he catches you. And servant of God or not, you don't want him coming after you because you blundered into something you knew nothing about," he states coolly. Of course, he knows that his words are unlikely to have any impact. But they still have to be said. And who knows? Maybe this time will be different...

Martyr looks towards Nightwing and nods slightly "I knwo that, but it's rather odd to find others along her sometimes.. Always must be caeful" he states before looking to Huntress then back to Nightwing and he tilts his head slightly "I should propose a danger to any of you, as I have been doing this, for quite a while."

"Whether 'God' called you out or not," Huntress adds in conjunction with Nightwing's statement, "There are dangerous men about, and if you get in the way or in any awy endanger this city we will respond." her voice is smooth, not relaly a threat but simply a notification. "Nightwing and me and the others, we're bad enough, but as Nightwing has said, you really wouldn't want to be on Batman's bad side. The Bat family," of which she's not technically a member, but bah, "Is familar with Gotham City. Experienced or no, I suggest you stay out of the way, because if it comes down to it, you might find yourself in cuffs or targetted as a threat to the city with your antics." Seems a little odd for it to be Huntress saying these sorts of things.

Martyr stays where he is and he looks to Huntress " My antics? My antics have been as yours, you have been where I am now, so before we go preaching to the chior, we should take this into mind hmm?"

The irony of the Huntress' statements are not lost on Nightwing though there is no sign of it on his features. And certainly it does not go commented upon. If Batman still sometimes questions her abilities -- and if he sometimes has concerns about her methods -- he has long since put aside any doubts concerning her value in a crisis. "Like I said, to my knowledge you've done nothing wrong so this is merely a friendly reminder," he says, finally leaving his perch on the opposite side of the roof and slowly padding along the edge of the building to stand alongside the Huntress once more. While he may still have doubts about this particular individual before them, the need for a confrontational stance of encircling him seems counter productive. "She's right. It'd probably be better off if you'd give up this idea of yours to go looking for trouble. But I somehow doubt you will," he says, tossing an almost amused glance towards the woman at his side. Of course, others have been told to rein in their extracurricular activities before. But almost at once the masked figure grows serious, almost cold once more. "I might not be able to stop you, but don't think for a minute that we won't be watching you. Getting someone hurt through your negligance is as bad as hurting them yourself. You keep that in mind."

Martyr looks towards Nightwing and nods " Don't doubt me just yet.. I promise you no one will become hurt because of my actions. I usually wait before I go in, blazing away as you all put it."

Huntress shrugs, "Your 'Antics' -are- going to get you hurt or killed, and others around you. I've seen it. You've been reminded, and you've been warned." she mimics Nightwing's stance, although whether it is a conscious decision to do so or simply habit is unclear. But unlike Nightwing she's less calm and well, friendly, though she isn't unfriendly either. "And if you get in my way when I'm doingmy job, you'll likely get hurt." she glances to her partner almost apologetically. She tried! "I think we've made it clear to him what kind of situation he's in. I'm done here, I'm hoping to have an old friend over to talk." and she eyes him pointedly.

Martyr simply stays where h is, watching them slightly, no they don't know him, he tells himself as an old pain opens back up inside of him, and his eyes stay narrowed, though he harbours no ill will against those who do as he.

No bruises, no blood, no broken bones. Hey, that went almost as well as could have been expected really. Okay, the diplomacy was a little lacking, but all in all it was a good effort. "If you're genuinely as careful as you claim, maybe we'll all be lucky and we won't have to have this conversation again," Nightwing finally says with the slightest of nods towards the other man -- a bare dip of his head. "Because I'd regret it almost as much as you if it proves necessary," he states solemnly, a genuine note in his voice. It is simply best to leave it at that. While the Huntress may know something more about this peculiar fellow -- something that clearly puts her on edge -- he doesn't, and there's no need to rush to judgement. Turning towards her, that is reflected in his eyes as he flashes a faint smile in gratitude for her restraint. But he hesitates a moment longer before turning away, glancing back towards Martyr for a moment to murmur, "Be careful," though it is unclear if it is a warning or good wish. Perhaps both at once.

Huntress echoes, "Really careful." and then takes NIghtwing's hand and slaps hers into it, like a strange sort of handshake. Mebbe its a super duper top secret Batfamily Wannabe handshake.. Then, with a nod to each, Huntress goes back into the shadows and is gone.

Martyr watches as they leave and if one could hear it, a slight sigh leaves him before he vanishes into the shadows himself.

And just like that, Nightwing's left alone atop the roof of the building. With a thoughtful frown, his gaze flickers back and forth between the directions of both of the recent departees before glancing down towards his gauntleted fist... and the white slip of paper therein. Turning it over, he looks it over before opening one of the secret compartments in his gloves and slipping it inside. That done, he turns and runs towards the ledge of the building, leaping off of it towards the next building as he resumes his solitary patrol through the cool autumn evening.