Actual writing now, based on this post:
Constantine, anxiously vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass: and when Mama Monster comes for Baby Monster, we-
Bruce: fight it
“What,” Tim breathes out faintly, “the fuck is that?”
Language, Bruce thinks faintly, though he doesn't manage to get it past his lips.
He is a man who prides himself on being ready for anything, but he most certainly didn't expect something like this when responding to the Batsignal tonight.
“That is a Pit Demon,” Damian's voice asserts through comms, grave in a way that betrays his collected mask. He's unnerved. “There is nothing else that could be.”
Bruce is unnerved too, though he refuses to show it.
Gordon had half the block cordoned off so no civilians would come through by the time Bruce and Tim - the closest at the time - had arrived on scene. The alley itself is blocked in by police cruisers, though the officers are staying very firmly behind the line and not approaching.
The…thing backed into a dead end alley looks like it's made of smoke and shadow, all long sinuous lines and dangerous angles.
It's vaguely Humanoid in the sense that it has a long torso, arms and a head. The arms are too long, the fingers curved and wickedly sharp. The face is a well of deep shadow, a smooth slate broken only when it opens its jagged mouth to show off a full arsenal of fangs.
The only other facial features are the solid, glowing Lazarus green eyes. Wide and lamp-like, they give the distinct feeling that the creature's sights will not miss anything.
There are no legs. Just the sinuous curves and overlaps of a long smokey tail. It whips about with agitation.
Floating like mist on the water is a head of white hair, edges fuzzy and undefined like it can't decide whether it's a solid or a gas.
The creature lays with its chest nearly flat to the ground, propped up only by those horrifically sharp hands and poised like a predator ready to push off into a sprint.
Glowing Lazarus water seems to pool slowly beneath it, streaked here and there as evidence of past movement.
Bruce finally finds his tongue to question Damian. He can see his youngest standing on the opposite roof of he and Tim, the two buildings that form the alley their perch.
“You've seen something like this before?”
Damian hesitates. “...no. But there are stories of things coming out of the Pits. I doubt I need to explain why this seems to be one of them.”
With that color green shining out of its face and streaked across the alley? No. No, he doesn't.
“Do your stories have any clues on what to do when one shows up?” Tim asks, unable to tear his eyes away from the creature.
Damian scoffs. “Close your eyes and hope your end is quick.”
“Lovely,” Tim bites out, voice a little higher pitched than normal.
“We won't be doing that,” Bruce responds dryly, two taps coming through the comms notifying them of Black Bat's arrival.
Bruce looks up and has to search for her for a few seconds before he can make her out in the shadows of Damian's rooftop.
“I'm still five minutes out,” Dick comms in. “What exactly are we looking at here? Can Oracle give a visual with any cams?”
“I wish,” Oracle chimes in. “Even through the mask footage I have no idea what they're seeing. The feed is corrupted to hell and back whenever it's in frame.”
“Really? In person it looks like-”
Tim is cut off when the officers below make some kind of movement the monster clearly takes issue with, the snarl that almost physically ricochets off the brick walls making everyone wince.
It's like TV static and the crackle of lightning striking a tree, like glaciers cracking and shifting underwater all rolled into one.
The hair on the back of Bruce's neck stands on end.
“Fuck. It's like a living shadow, but all sharp and wrong and angry-”
“No,” Cass cuts in quietly, silencing everyone.
“...Black Bat?” Bruce questions lowly.
“Not angry,” she responds, as sure as ever when assessing a target - no matter what kind of target.
“Scared, hurt. Guarding chest, trying to hide it. Wants to scare us away, but making no move to attack. Posturing.”
The thing about Cass is that they trust her reads implicitly - her reads of people.
She wouldn't speak up if she wasn't certain, and she wouldn't be certain if she didn't see something painfully human in the creature below.
“...what do you suggest?” Bruce asks after a moment of tense silence, trying to reassess the creature and see what she sees.
He at the very least wants her opinion, so they can weigh it in formulating a plan here.
Cass keeps looking for a long moment, before she looks across the gap at him. “Needs help. Reach out - at least try.”
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