The distant wailing of alarms in the distance, the pattering of rat paws on the grimy Gotham pavement, and the shuffling of a flighty druggie waiting for his fix. Well, there's two druggies awaiting an unknown dealer.
Gray sits on the balls of his feet atop a fire escape three stories above an ally, and focuses on the noises below. He closes his eyes to block out disrupting factors, and pushes his senses below, as if he's down there with the two.
A third set of feet enter the alley at a lollygagging pace, and the scuffing of their feet almost feels intentional. Gray grits his teeth against the constant grating the feet elicit against his sensitive ears.
Two small penny-sized bags with a small cylindrical object are taken out of a pocket somewhere on the dealer, and held together in one hand.
Gray can almost feel the bag in his own hand with the precise rustling and crinkling that are created, which paint an elaborate picture in his mind's eye.
The shaking of one of the druggies hand's ceases, and they turn to face the dealer, while the other druggie goes stock still.
Two people, one similar response to the conflict: freeze. Between fight, flight, freeze and fawn they both turn cold as ice in the midst of what they themselves sought after. Not uncommon, but quite an unusual response that Gray can't help but want to analyze further.
The symmetric response is uneven and crooked compared to the usual jitters and frenzies of a drug-user. Human nature is truly fascinating.
Paper thin, crinkled edges, folded in on itself: two five dollar bills. Both from the pockets of each user, and deposited into the hand of the hoodie-wearing dealer. The dealer dishes out the two baggies, and confounds to a rapid pace out of the alley.
Gray awaits the retreat, and finally descends upon the two frozen figures, eyes open and alert. They're like deer in headlights as he shoves them both into the brick wall, and they stumble over the trash build up and litter.
Baggies in hand, he launches up to the rooftop of the back of the alley's adjacent building, with the help of the grapple melded into his utility belt.
A part of his image is that he doesn't have one, at least to the public. So, it may be an oversight to allow two possibly loud-mouthed users see him, but they aren't in much of a state to remember let alone tell someone else.
They'd also need to explain what they were doing to have any backbone to their story, but that would implicate themselves as well.
He listens for anything out of the mouths of the users, but they don't utter a word. There's something off about the dazed duo. They don't seem to know each other, and are incoherent in words and function. Like dolls on a string, awaiting the next pull and command. He relates a little too well to that for different reasons.
A plus side to having an entrance only for himself at Chillpoint is nobody knows he's there. Not even Penguin knows of the entrance, and with how he verbally roundhoused the man a week ago he hasn't been back since.
Gray doesn't particularly want to be in Penguin's presence either, hence the need for his secret entrance.
Analyzing the drug is on his top priority, even though he's not being paid. However, it's more of an investment for the future. His contacts being cut off have bottlenecked his way of income too close for his liking. It'll be a cold day in hell before he willingly accepts a protective detail job.
Perhaps his discontent towards protecting is due to the fact that that's how he's lived for most of his life. A long while ago before Deathstroke. His job with Deathstroke was partly to protect the man, in case of emergency, but not physically.
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The Fallen Hero (Dick Grayson)
Hayran KurguWhen he was young he was the ward of Bruce Wayne and talk of the tabloids. As a member of Young Justice, in a mission gone wrong he almost lost his best friend to none other than Deathstroke the Terminator. Grief and guilt swallowed him whole, and t...
