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"We don't need help from you people." Were the words of a way-too-slow police officer. She was annoyed, of course, these new vigilantes were stealing all her work, the little prestige they had left. But what could the cops do? People idolized these masked heroes, they couldn't even conspire to capture them.
Dianna couldn't help the smirk that expanded on her face. The woman's comment only fed her ego; she was jealous, they all were. She ambled closer, into the blinding blue and red glares. The beams radiated in her insignia, caroming onto the cop's eye ( she'd have to thank Jason for selecting such reflective material ).
"It's not you I'm helping. It's the citizens." Dianna grunted as she hauled the burglar between their feet. The criminal struggled under the wire, booted into subordination by an angry teen. She unwrapped the metal and thrust them further away, handing them over to justice. "You're welcome, by the way."
She spun over, sidestepping any other attempt at a discussion. An insult was thrown in the wind but she paid it no mind. They wouldn't dare to repeat it out loud, not with all the supporters around ( it was kinda funny how they somehow reciprocated her heroic protection ).
Swinging one leg over her motorbike, she saluted the few locals that had gathered to witness the capture. She received a few yelps back, soon drowned out by the revving of her engine. The blue and red twinkles began to wither as she furthered into the city.
Her face was illumined with yellow as her built-in phone lit up. She only twitched her thumb against the clutch to respond to the incoming call. "Hey, Bruce. What is it?"
"Are you at the manor?" His voice sounded muffled. Something was intervening in his direct tone. Dianna inferred he was tense by the sharpness of his question. She visualized him scratching his stubble, stimulating his mind into serenity. "Is Jason with you?"
Dianna knitted her brows together. She distinctly remembered sending a notice. Her feet depressed into the accelerator. "I'm in San Francisco. Left Gotham two nights ago. Didn't you get my message?"
Silence. Then a sigh. "I did. I'm sorry. I'm worried about Jason. Could you call him, convince him to remain in the house tonight?"
"Sure," she responded, though her voice wasn't heard as her bike roared louder. Her feet decompressed from the gas so they could listen to one another ( if only she'd known how to drive a car, stuff like these wouldn't happen ). There was another pause; Bruce wanted to keep talking. She had the time to spare. "Is everything okay?"
Bruce rasped his lips. He was acting unlike himself. Not controlling his mood? Openly on edge? Dianna wished not to feel so intrigued about his mind; Jason was more important. "Jason called me. He pinpointed the Joker a few minutes ago. I think he wants to confront him. No one's around to stop him. . ."
"So?"
"He can't go out as Robin. That life is over for him." Not by choice, she wanted to say. Instead, she remained quiet and allowed Bruce to reevaluate his excuse. "Also. . . it's the Joker we're talking about, not some random Gotham freak. He's the most unstable."
