The rain comes down in sheets, scattered by the occasional car passing through at speed. it's like everyone is tyring to gt away from here, evne the pedestrians huddled underneath their umbrellas and in the fronts of shops. many ties one might get the impression there's no point staying beneath the eaves of the buildings. No point hiding from it. The driving rain follows you wherever you go. Gotham isn't a place that lets up on people. You either learn to adapt or you leave. Barbara's house is nicer than most, even in her neighborhood. It's a white painted sprawling home with a neatly trimmed yard and carefully tended flowers located on the East Side of town, where the crime and decay hasn't managed to reach the rich and well-to-do. The security system here is subtle but also utterly modern, with hidden cameras and metal shutters to ensure any invader is confounded unless they brought high explosives. Which is a possibility in Gotham, so it is hardened against those too. Not a lot of job interviews have a person go to their employer's personal residence but it isn't entirely unheard of. Barbara Gordon isn't the most mobile of people the last year and a half or so anyway. The rain isn't about to bother Haven, it's something she still revels in. The sound, the smell, the way it makes the air softer against her skin. She'd spent time all over the world while in the military, but an overwhelming percentage had been in desert climes. So she has on her long coat, with the hood up over her pulled back blonde hair, and she'll just stroll up towards the house to meet her.. possible employer. Black pants won't show the rain so bad, besides. There's a slate blue blouse on under the jacket, left untucked as the style dictated.. and it would hide the gun she had felt the wise choice to carry while in Gotham. There's a mint popped and tucked between cheek and gum, before she'll move up to the front door while studying the shutters, the flowers. It's pretty, but Haven gets the impression this is not a house one wants to muck with. "One moment!" Haven doesn't need to knock; the itnercom is already greeting her with a bright, serious voice like she might expect from a schoolteacher or… Librarian. Which, indeed, is theoretically what Barbara Gordon actually is. A moment later the door swings open and on the other side of it is a young woman in a black wheelchair.. Long crimson-copper hair frames her shoulders and heart-shaped face. Azure eyes are the highlight of a face adorned with a riot of freckles, magnified and brought ot the foor by the blue-framed designer glasses she wears. "Please, come in." Babs leads the way through the home over hard wood floors, and into a living room laid out with a state of the art entertainment center, a nice leather couch, and coffee table. Nothing too horribly out of the ordinary for the moment. "Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. MacKenzie," Barbara begins in that firm, wholesome voice that Haven would remember form the intercom. "I'm sure you have nearly as many questions as I do," Barbara continues quietly. The redhead takes up a place beside the coffee table. She has no need of a chair, after all. She shoves aside a stack of papers located there and then flashes Haven a quick, birght smile. "Thank you for meeting me today. Would you, mm, like something to drink? And while I am getting that, could you - tell me a bit about yourself?" Haven will have to adjust her gaze downward a bit when the door opens, to accomodate for the lower stature of the woman there. The hair catches her attention first, then the eyes that her own blue ones will meet without any of the discomfort other people just meeting Ms. Gordon may display. She will step inside, closing the door behind her and wiping her feet well, slipping out of her damp coat. She'll trail along behind into the living room, eyes taking in the exits, the number of windows, the layout of the furniture, plotting possible escape routes before she'll ever move to sit down. She will sit, however, on that nice leather couch, sitting all the way back, comfortable and confident as she watches the other woman. "I may have more, even." She will say, voice even. "No, thank you. I appreciate the offer." The blonde head will cant to the side, braid slithering over the other shoulder. "What would you like to know, that isn't on my resume?" Haven doesn't yet have a social media account, or snapchat, or instagram… "The questions are two pronged, actually." Babs response is soft but firm. She continues to meet Haven's eyes without any hesitation, especially once they are approximately of a height. Barbara draw a deep breath and holds it for a few beats. "A lot of your record is classified. I was wondering- some of the people you've cared for in he field have made miraculous recoveries. Did you ever tend to someone with a serious spinal injury…?" She lets that one setle in first, as the intent must seem obvious given who is asking. Azure eyes are calm, at least, still looking over the woman's features carefully. "The other question I had is actually even odder, fi you can believe that. How do you feel about- Black Ops? Deep cover missions. For the good ofthe public, not corporate espionage or anything like that." Barbara's heart is quaking but she somehow manages to ask the question without quavering. Blue eyes will hold those behind the glasses, and there's something that stirs inside the blonde. There's a terrible empathy, a compassion that mingles with something darker and harder to identify. "I've never had to handle a serious spinal injury, no. Mostly gunshot wounds, shrapnel, other battle and mundane injuries one encounters in the military." There's a quick flash of a smile, lending a hint of charm to Haven's face. "As for the classified status, that's beyond my paygrade as we say, Ms. Gordon." She will keep her gaze locked with Barbara's. "If you're asking if I can help you, the only answer I could give is that there are things I could help with, but the rest would take time to see. Spinal injuries are not anything I've been really educated on extensively." The fairly still Haven will suddenly sit as if carved of stone and metal, alabaster, lapis and gold, a statue with eyes that pin one as if to see inside them. "Black ops. Undercover, for the good of the people. It sounds more familiar than I can explain to you legally, Ms. Gordon. My question is, why would you try to recruit someone like me?" There's a flush building in Haven's cheeks as the statue shatters and leaves the woman in its place again. She will lean forward, and there's a danger to the blonde that was not there moments ago. "I don't know what you know about me, and I don't want to know how you know. But I know your heart is in overdrive, no matter how calm you try to seem on the outside. So why don't you just be blunt and come clean with me? It's likely to get you a lot farther than small talking around it. " "The first question is because I haven't found anything else that has a prayer of dealing with the phantom- pains. and nerve responses. It isn't the pain that is bothering me so much. It's the- twitching. At inopportune moments." Haven chooses to meet Barbara's gaze so the redhead obliges, point for point, impassively staring back with all the intensity she learned in her decade serving alongside Batman. She pauses for a second there and takes a deep breath. "As for the rest of it? I know more than you probably think I should, but suffice to say I know you're more than qualified for wha I need to do. And I think, based on the evidence, that you have… ablities… Which could help me. I don't want this project to fail, and right now I'm not sure I'm strong enough to make it work." That last comes as a whisper. An admission of weakness that probably doesn't come easy to the redhead. Given she's a paraplegia patient with admitted upper body weakness living alone only a year after her surgeries. Then Haven mentions Barbara's heart being in overdrive and the redhead freezes. A faint flush creeps through her cheeks andshe tilts her head to the left ever so slightly. "I'm not sure the rest is particularly relevant. Suffice to say, I intend to save the world. There aren't many people I intend to tell about it. But … I want you to be one of them." There is no softness in the blonde, all hard planes and fierceness like a shield maiden out of an old Viking lay. She will let the redhead talk, until she runs down and out of the words she wants to say. She can sit in silence longer than most people without letting awkwardness and nerves affect her, and Barbara will be subject to that for long moments after she flushes and confesses her plan to save the world. Blue eyes are the only truly animated thing about the biokinetic in those long moments. A deep inhale finally comes, slow and steady, as the blonde leans back, nearly lounging there on the couch. "It's not what I think you should or shouldn't know, it's the government. I only care in as so much that I would go very, very far, Ms. Gordon, to protect those men I served with. They were and are my brothers in arms, and I will not have their records in the open, or exploited, and jeopardize their safety. So long as we can agree there, I don't give a flying rat's ass what you know. I'm a mutant, yes. Biokinesis is the fancy name for it, if you care. As for strength, you certainly seem to have the balls to try and expose me, here in your home, knowing what I can do. There is a lot to be said for cojones like that. Physical strength is something that can be built on. Take it from me, because you don't get to be weak in my former job position." Her ankle will lift to rest on the opposite knee, as she regards the other woman. "As far as phantom pain, nerves.. I can help with that, and tell you things you can and should implement to help your own recovery, if you haven't been told already." Her chin angles up slightly. "I'm not entirely sure after you've gone digging into my life and blown it up here in your living room, that you get to fully claim what is, or is not relevant. But let us focus on the steak, and not the peas. You want to save the world. A fine goal, for all there are times I am not sure it deserves an effort. What's the plan? And where do you think I would fit into it?" A hand will move to rest on her ankle that is on her knee, her other hand flicking her braid back behind her shoulder. "You should also be aware I have a consulting position for a firm that I have taken. It's not a regular nine to five, but I felt I should disclose it." "I left your private life out of it for the most part," Barbara replies quietly. She reaches up and gently draws her fingers through her deep red hair and pulls it away from her face. "Where do I think you would fit? I guess it depends on what you're prepared to do. I think you'd be uniquely suited for medical evacuation teams, in particular? Though if you'd like to see combat that is probalby a possibility." Barbara takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a second. She reaches toward the pile of papers sitting on the table nd pulls out a notebook from the middle of it. The redhead flips through it for a second before handing the documents over. "I have an information network at hand. I call it Oracle. It lets me keep track of the movements of various major criminals, supervillains, heroes…" She pauses for a second and licks her lips. "It's the weapon we'd need to figure what needs to be done and how to d oit." Unbeknownst even to Barbara her left foot is twitching slightly while she speaks, perhaps undermining the woman's gravitas somewhat. "I think you fit in in any number of ways. And not just because you can- help me do more." She pauses for a second. "Where would you prefer to be?" There's a harsh riff of laughter, rife with bitterness, as Haven's gaze turns cruel. "Private life? You had to leave it out, because I haven't had one in years." There's a snap and a snarl to those words, even if they are delivered paced and even. It's truth, if one doesn't look close at the last couple weeks. She will sit and watch the other woman, observing with that blank expression that shows no sympathy, no empathy, just.. a void. She notes the licking of her lips, the foot moving, Barbara's heart rate, all of it. "Oracle. Interesting. The only problem with weapons, is that they can be turned against you. You would need to put more safeguards into place than you probably think." She falls into that silence, and Barbara may feel that Haven is a long way away and has left her for the moment. "Well, the question is, what's my motivation in this? I've done years of service to others already, Ms. Gordon. I had my life stolen from my control, my dreams torn apart, because I have a special gene." Blue eyes are very much in the here and now again, as she watches the redhead. "But where would I see myself fitting? I think it would be a shame to keep me in a strictly medical capacity. That would be a waste of my full range of skils and abilities." "What is your motivation in all of this?Did you want me to guess? To go through your life and what you've done or said untilIfigure it out for myself? Your motivation, Ms. Mackenzie, is that you would be getting paid. Well." That statement is made flatly and without brooking any disagreement. There's the sense that as Haven turns harsher or more cruel Barbara herself hardens. It's like she's reacting to the manner of her guest. Much more than the mousy librarian she appears to be then. "No one is asking you to help people out of altruism," Babs continues in a serious vice. "and if you'd like to do more than stand in a medical capacity that is more than doable. You're a soldier. Right? You should try working for an employer who cares about your existence as an individual and offers fantastic benefits and competitive pay instead of discaarding you the way the government would," she states seriously. "I won't let anyone use you because you have a special gene, and I'm not going to betray you. I'm offering youa check for every single mission. No surprises. No bullshit." Letting that settle Babs stare s intensely into Haven's eyes, drawing herself up as bast she can to her full height. "I haven't had a private life for years either. Before Oracle it was- other things. Since I became an adult. Before, in fact. You'll have to decide for yourself whether or not you want to trust me." "See? Such a simple answer. Everyone needs to sustain themselves, and while my consulting job pays well, and plays into my field experience.. you've every much hit upon something most people have to worry about. Money. You're smart not to ask me to help out of altruism, as I'm fresh out." There's a flash of humor there, here and gone like a lightning strike. Haven is amused that the librarian is trying to harden herself, and there's a smirk. "I'm a soldier, yes. I have an employer who does care for my existence, currently, but.. that's a whole other can of worms. I've been hired in that position to work on things for the field that would be non-weaponized. Whereas, Ms. Gordon, I am a dual edged sword. I can heal, and I can harm. I no longer wish to be only half of what I am." Back to: Logs Page. |
The Wounded Healer