Is It Really? [Mark]

[Golden Glider]

Lisa tapped her foot on the sidewalk, wondering just where to go. She didn't know Gotham, but this seemed to be the place to be these days. She had heard about this city from the underground grapevine. She had been yanked out of the ground and was shoved into normal life again. She didn't know anything that was going on and wasn't sure she liked that. She missed Len and couldn't find him even though she went to all their old haunts. Granted, she might have just been missing catching him, but that was a lot of "just missing".

So, rather than just trying to hunt everyone down, she decided that she would get back on her feet somewhere else. She would go home once she had her bearings and didn't feel like she was about to have a break down. Seeing everything that she used to know change completely was not going to help her pick up the pieces. So, to Gotham is was to try and remake the Golden Glider.

She shifted her overnight bag, packed with clothes and her old gear. It needed some dusting off and retuning, but it was still good. Well, no time like the present to try and get yourself killed, right? The blond let out a snort, shaking her head. As if someone could ... Okay, that thought was going down the wrong road. Clearing her throat, she started through the East End toward the rest of the city. She supposed she would just jack some cash somewhere and get a motel room. That seemed to be the best plan at the moment, considering she didn't have many options in her pocket.

[Weather Wizard]

Gotham was not Keystone or Central City; that was a simple, obvious fact. It was fact that should’ve made the dark streets unfamiliar, particularly to someone used to kinder, lighter hearted heroes, but Mark had been here before and felt the atmosphere suited him well enough. He wasn’t about to make Gotham a regular haunt, but a storm was brewing close to the old city, and Mark paid attention to that kind of weather.

He also made puns, apparently, even if they were just mental tangents and never spoken. Mark squeezed his eyes shut, and barely fought the urge to bang his head against the door. He needed to stop spending so much time with Trickster. James was better suited to slap stick humour and predictable word play. Mark was better suited to picking this damn lock.

While Mark turned his attention back to what he should be doing -- or shouldn’t be doing, as any cop or hero would argue – there was a low rumble above, the herald of rain and a possible storm. Mark didn’t mind, and he didn’t mind when it started spitting to rain either. He worked best when the weather was at its worst. It wasn’t like a little rain would kill him, and though he was wearing casual, he had his new trench coat on. That should keep him from having to do too much laundry later.

The lock clicked, and Mark pocketed his picks. “Done.” He pushed the door to the jewellery shop open, but didn’t stroll inside to pick from the watches, necklaces and diamonds yet. He wasn’t an idiot and had been breaking and entering for years before he became the Weather Wizard. If he knew his jewellery stores, there was sure to be some pesky alarm in place and that...

That was blonde hair, and he really shouldn’t have stopped in his tracks to stare at the woman. Mark was far from a virgin and knew what kind of curves he liked, but he wasn’t the kind of man to stop and stare, drawn to the sway of lady hips or a pretty face. He knew that face, however. He knew those curves and the shade of that blonde hair too. She wasn’t wearing ice skates or an orange mask, but she didn’t have to for him to recognise her.

“L-Lisa?!” The name sounded foreign on his own tongue, despite how it was a name he knew and had spoken before. He hadn’t spoken that name in years, though. The last time he uttered any syllable of that name had been at her funeral, another life time ago, when the game was still a game and Barry was alive rather than dead. Lisa didn’t look dead. She looked very alive and very in the present.

[Golden Glider]

Fantastic. Blue eyes drifted upward in a glare as rain slowly started to fall. Yeah, that was exactly what she needed. For a brief moment, she wanted to blame Mark, thinking that he must be in a foul mood. That, or he was really happy and wanted to rain that good mood down on everyone. Yeah, right. Mark was a crank pot more times than he was pleased. For a moment, thinking about Weather Wizard, she forgot where she was. She forgot that she had been dead and barely knew anything anymore.

A car horn blared down the street, startling her out of her reverie. She blinked, taking in the unfamiliar buildings. Right, Gotham. She sighed, wishing there was something that she could latch onto, anything that was normal. Her skates would do for a little while, offering her something that she could lose herself in, but that wouldn't be enough. A temporary fix was just that -- temporary. It would help for a little while, a few hours, then she would remember again.

She flipped her long, blond hair, popping her collar on the short cropped jacket she was wearing as if it would help keep the rain from getting under her shirt. The only thing that would help that would be an umbrella or a room to hurry into. She had neither. The Golden Glider was finding more reasons to let her mood go grey and stormy like the weather.

Lisa paused as she continued walking, thinking someone called her name. She glanced around, seeing only a dark haired man that looked shocked. She quickly brushed it off, turning away. Another few steps and she stopped again, turning slowly to stare at the man. Was that ...? No, it couldn't be. The more she looked, the more she could swear that was Mark, the man she had been thinking about only minutes ago.

Before she realized what she was doing, she was walking toward the thief. No, it couldn't be Mark. This guy had shoulder length hair, a goatee, and a trench coat. Mark had none of that. Not years ago at least. Is it really you? Lisa asked, not really caring if it was Mark or not. The skater reached out to run her fingers through his longer hair, amazed at its length and its surprising softness. Interesting. She hadn't thought that this would be quite Mark's style.

[Weather Wizard]

He really shouldn’t forget about the jewellery store and its open door, not when it was a crime scene he shouldn’t linger at, but... that was a rational thought, and he was having trouble grasping that concept right now. He might have stolen a glance back towards the store, wary that he might be caught in the middle of a robbery, but those same eyes were very quickly drawn back to Lisa and how she shouldn’t be there. She was supposed to be dead. Gone. Bones left to turn dry in their grave.

The woman that shouldn’t be Lisa looked at him, but there was no recognition and she later turned away, while Mark was left to wonder if he’d been mistaken. Instead of a ghost perhaps the woman simply bore a striking resemblance to the blonde he once knew? He supposed it was possible. It would make more sense, wouldn’t it? Dead women didn’t walk by like that, but women who were alive and just had similarities with the dead did.

Mark didn’t think he was mistaken. “Lisa...!” He wasn’t sure how else to call her, but it looked like he wouldn’t have to think of more than her name. Those blue eyes turned back to him, slower than before, and Mark tensed beneath that stare. It had to be Lisa. He knew those eyes. He had seen them often during the short time she was a Rogue.

Damn it! He should say something more than her name, but he couldn’t manage it, not when his mouth had suddenly gone dry. Lisa was really there. She wasn’t dead or some kind of ghost; she was alive, there and she closed the distance between them more quickly than he was ready for. It had taken a moment but she did recognise him, and now... he really did need to say something to her, didn’t he?

“Yeah.” Mark grimaced when his voice came out sounding rough and unlike him; he was supposed to have a smoother tone than that. He paused briefly, so he could clear his throat, and then elaborated in case Lisa needed to hear the name. “It's Mark.” He didn’t think he needed to say it, but he had changed somewhat from back then, hadn’t he? Maybe it would help Lisa adjust somehow. “How?”

How could Lisa be here, alive and apparently well, when he could still remember her funeral? How the devil could she be here, reaching for his hair, when he could remember that she had died? Back then he and Len had sat quietly together, sharing drinks and not saying a word. Mark knew he wasn’t much of a comforter, not now and not back then, but he had been the best for it. Mark knew what it was like to lose a sibling.

[Golden Glider]

Regardless of the shocks she was dealt when she crawled out of her coffin, Lisa wasn't sure they compared with this. Seeing any of the boys again was something she wasn't sure she was ready for. Seeing them changed like this was throwing her for a loop. Mark had short hair and wore bright green and yellow in costume. She knew he was a thief and didn't wear the costume all the time, but the hair! It had always been short and she wasn't sure that was the better look for him.

She continued to run her hands through his hair, feeling the strands go all the way to his shoulders. Wow, that was long for him. One hand drifted away from his hair. It ran over his cheek to brush over the goatee. The blond couldn't say that this wasn't an attractive look for him. She was not at all opposed to the face fuzz and grinned a little.

Seeing Mark and the change made her forget all about the rain that was slowly getting harder. Yeah, she was definitely going to blame it on Mark now considering he was directly in front of her. Weather Wizard brought the rain with him wherever he went and she didn't think it was pure coincidence. His hair would look good wet. The smile grew a little, thinking about being in the rain with the Rogues, having a good time causing havoc for Barry. She was rather pleased she hadn't run into the speedster considering they hadn't exactly been on good terms.

There was more important things that needed to be covered first. Dunno. I guess you took a liking to hair, Lisa replied with a small laugh, contenting herself with twirling her fingers in his longer locks. What made you grow it out? She asked, finding that she might as well start reorienting herself around Mark since she planned on sticking close to him. Not exactly the normal she was thinking about, but hey, it was definitely better than having only her skates and a few hours on the ice. With Mark, she had a friend and hours to lose in his books. Oh, yes, she was so going to make him read to her. She felt like a lost little girl that needed family so desperately.

[Weather Wizard]

That clever mind had checked out and left Mark to stare at the woman who shouldn’t be there, who should instead be beneath dirt, rock and whatever else; buried bones and dust. He had heard of the occasional hero not keeping dead like they should, but it never happened to names he cared about. Barry Allen was still dead, lost to an idiot sacrifice; Sam Scudder hadn’t come back either. God had never favoured names from Keystone or Central City.

Mark set his jaw when fingers traced across his cheek to where they could inspect his facial hair. He was almost shocked when that touch wasn’t devil cold, an obvious caress from a ghost, banshee or something else dead. Instead it was warm and human, a little damp from the rain, but not the kind of clammy one might expect from a corpse. There was no need to sound the zombie apocalypse alarm.

He snorted at his mental snark and the comment Lisa made. Lisa was alive and wanted to talk about his hair, while he wondered whether zombies were about to pop out from under their feet. Either this was somehow legit, or he had earned a trip to Arkham Asylum. “Without you or Rathaway around, someone needed the longer hair.” His snark made him appear casual. In reality he was surprised his voice was so steady.

Lisa was still there and not dead after all, and that was a concept he needed time to properly wrap his head around. She should have been dead but she wasn’t. Len would be pleased once he found out. Mark was pleased beneath the shock and a childish kind of bitterness towards it. Lisa was back. Len had his sister back. Mark didn’t have his brother back, however. He didn’t want to admit he was a little mad over that.

It was quite convenient that the clouds overhead would rumble, dark and angry, before the rain turned torrential and unforgiving. Mark brushed his hands back through his hair to slick it back and out of his eyes. That was their cue to find shelter he would guess, because Lisa wasn’t like him. She wasn’t the kind of person to stand outside in rain and thunderstorms. He liked the weather when it was at its worst; most normal people didn’t.

“We should probably find an apartment or something.” Mark shrugged out of his coat and dropped it over Lisa’s head, the movement nonchalant with very little thought given to her blonde locks. His coat wouldn’t muss that hair nearly as much as the rain would. Another thing that separated Mark from normal people? He had nothing against getting soaked. The laundry was a pain but he didn’t mind damp skin, wet hair or the chill.

[Golden Glider]

Lisa contented herself with touching something truly real from her past. It was different, but it was someone she knew well. They had been friends and she was looking for anything to cling to. A different hair style and face fuzz wasn't going to put her off enjoying his company. It was just something else she had to get used to and it was easier than most things. Now she just had to rebuild her life.

She slowly dropped her hands, trying not to be a clingy weirdo despite the serious urge to do just that. Touching Mark meant that he really was there and that she was alive. Touching him meant that things could and would be okay. If she didn't, he might disappear and become nothing more than an illusion. She didn't want to feel lost and crazy. Things were bad enough as it was and she didn't think she could handle going batty. Then she would really belong here in Gotham.

Or, she could do so while learning that something had happened to Hartley. What?! The blond said loudly, grabbing onto Mark's shirt while her eyes went impossibly wide. What happened to Hartley? Yeah, she would so go nuts if anything happened to any more of the boys. She wouldn't be able to handle being back if she was going to learn that the Rogues were missing more members and her favorite ones weren't around anymore. Tears actually started to well up, wondering just who was hurt, dead, or anything else that would break her heart. She would just as soon kill herself again if something had happened to Len in particular.

With such dark thoughts flowing through her mind, she forgot all about the weather. She didn't care that her cute outfit was getting soaked and she might end up sick. She didn't care that there was a serious storm rolling over Gotham and she was standing out in it while all the smart people were hurrying inside. The only thing that made her snap out of her almost hysterics was the fact that Mark dropped his coat over her head.

Lisa blinked, startled by the weight and how warm it was. Blue eyes drifted to stare at Mark, still trying to keep herself calm. Feeling very much like a small child again being protected, she let herself start to break down a little again. She hadn't done very well keeping herself together in Central City, ready to have major fits that would put her in jail or the looney bin. With someone she knew, though, she felt like she could keep her wits a little better knowing that there was someone she could cry to if she really needed to. With the option there, she could handle it.

You won't leave me, will you? The skater asked in a small voice. She didn't want to be alone anymore. She would love to have her big brother back, but Mark was a damn close second. She pulled the coat closer around her, enjoying the warmth and male smell that came off the fabric. It was comforting, like being back in the Rogue hideout and joking with the rest of the boys. It smelled a little like home. Yeah, she could keep her wits about her now.

[Weather Wizard]

Mark thought he could understand her need to touch, to find an anchor she could clutch at, but even then he didn’t reach for Lisa in that same way. He couldn’t. He wasn’t a man who complained when others invaded his personal space or leant too close, but Mark was a man who tended to keep respectful distance between from other people, at least when it was his choice and when a particular kind of intimacy wasn’t involved.

His habits and nature probably made him a bad pick for this, but he was the one Lisa had found and he had to do what he could. He was a Rogue. Lisa was a Rogue. Those two facts were important right now, and the reason Mark would do what he could, because despite everything else that was wrong with him he was a very, very loyal man. He was especially loyal to the Rogues.

It was obvious Lisa cared about her boys too, considering her response to his half-hearted joke. Mark actually blinked at her concern, taken aback and not sure where it had come from... at least until he remembered that Lisa had missed a lot. She hadn’t been around for years now, and in her absence she had missed how Hartley had reformed, how Barry Allen had died and much more. He would have to update her slowly, at a pace that wouldn’t leave her disorientated.

First was the information about Rathaway, as he was the one she worried about now. It would be cruel to leave her thinking that their Pied Piper had been killed. “Rathaway was fine the last time I saw him, Lisa.” Mark paused, uncertain about how he should word what came next. Cold always said that his Rogues were Rogues for life, but did Pied Piper still count when he was reformed? Mark supposed so. No one other than Mirror Master II seemed to hold a grudge against the man.

“He just isn’t part of the game anymore.” Mark paused again, because that wasn’t quite right either, was it? Rathaway was a part of the game occasionally, but he wasn’t on their side anymore. He didn’t normally involve himself when the Rogues were involved, but he did help the Flash incredibly often. Their musician was practically best friends with Wally West, in fact. “He reformed, Lisa. He even plays vigilante on occasion.”

That should ease her mind, he hoped. Lisa probably wouldn’t be too pleased to know that Rathaway dabbled in the masked hero career on occasion, but that would be an issue she would have to talk with him about. Mark and the other Rogues had gotten over it. Cold even seemed to think it was for the best, because in the end the Pied Piper wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t much of an anti-hero either.

The talk Lisa would need to have with their musician didn’t matter now however, despite how Rathaway might be able to care for her better. What mattered was that the rain hadn’t stopped, his coat could only keep her so warm and they needed shelter. Mark could handle the weather. Lisa might give herself hyperthermia or something, and then what the hell would he tell her brother?

“I won’t leave you. I certainly won’t leave you out here.” Mark took a step past her, his robbery forgotten. If any Gothamite wanted to steal some jewellery though, the door was open for them. “Come on.” He looked back at Lisa with that prompt, but hesitated. Lisa was emotional right now, and he must seem incredibly detached. Mark frowned, and then, after a moment of pause, he reached to take her hand. He hoped that help. He could better lead her towards some apartments they could break into too.

[Golden Glider]

Lisa had to take a few deep breaths. She couldn't allow herself to get completely unhinged. Even though she knew that Mark would take care of her if she really needed him to, she didn't want to force that on him. He had always been a little detached from everyone and it didn't seem like that had changed. She wasn't going to completely break down in front of him. It would make things worse if she clung to hard to him, put too much responsibility for her on him, Rogue or not.

With a deep breath, she let go of his shirt, hands shaking. Looking down at them, she quickly balled them into fists and tried to hide the reaction. She could not have hysterics. She tried to repeat that over and over, almost missing what Mark was saying. Hartley was fine. She took a deep, shaking breath and let it out slowly. Hartley was fine. She could keep moving knowing that the red head was alive.

But severely different. Reformed? Seriously? What had been going on since she died? Wide blue eyes blinked, trying to really think that through. Pied Piper was a good guy now. Had he betrayed the Rogues? What had happened between the guys while she was gone? Well, no better way to find out than ask. She'd start with one of the more important questions. Has he hurt you guys? She asked, worried that there was a serious rift between everyone now.

If there was anything going on, she didn't want the Rogues to be falling apart. She wanted them to all be able to sit together again. If they were all okay and could all stand each other, she would ask for some full Rogue team time. Even if it was just once, it would be a help for her transition into ... everything. She really hoped they would do that for her, just once, just to help her.

Golden Glider really did feel like a child now. She was back to those naive ideals that everything would be okay if things just went smoothly. Nothing ever went smoothly and she shouldn't hope for it. It was an infant's wish. Hadn't she learned better by now? Things were never so nice, so neat. Her life was never simple like that. She shook her head, looking down as the coat shifted around her.

It fell to her shoulders and she didn't really care. She was wet as it was, what was a little more rain. The blond took a small step after Mark, blinking as his hand reached out to her. Her eyes flicked between his hand and his face, wondering why he was doing that. It wasn't normal for him to be the one to reach out. Still, she took it as the gift it was, lightly wrapping her fingers around his and allowing him to lead her to cover. Is everything different? She asked, dipping her head to stare at the ground. If everything was going to be turned on its head, then she really should prepare herself. If she was going to end up having a break down, she would need to find someplace else to have it.

[Weather Wizard]

Mark worried the edge of his lower lip, not quite sure what he could do with Lisa, not when she was stricken by the thought that Hartley might be dead. It was a concept he shot down as soon as he realised, but it was a little too late to save Lisa from thinking about it, wasn’t it? It was a little too late to save her from the unnecessary scare, and a little too late to keep her from thinking the worst.

That was what he could call a fuck up, wasn’t it? He should have corrected himself in time. Mark bit back a curse, and turned his attention to what he could do for Lisa. He could keep Lisa from thinking Rathaway had harmed them. The musician might have been a vigilante now, while Mark and the others remained crooks, but he wasn’t about to harm the Rogues -- except McCulloch. There was no love between their Pied Piper and their second Mirror Master.

“He doesn’t normally step in when it’s us.” It was a small fact, but a true one. Rathaway didn’t always keep his distance when the Rogues were involved, but he tended to where he could, and he didn’t properly harm them when he did step in. He understood and knew the game, after all. “Besides, he doesn’t need to harm us. He can kick all our backsides at once with that flute.”

His last sentence was followed with a weak, uncertain chuckle. Rathaway could definitely kick their backsides when he wanted anymore, as he could make a mess of them with his music, and now had the stronger nature he needed to do it. Mark couldn’t speak for Cold or the others, but a part of him was proud to see that their Pied Piper had grown into himself.

Mark made a mental note to try and contact the other man when he could, because he was certain Rathaway could help Lisa. Mark would do what he could for her, he really, truly would, but he was well aware that he wasn’t the best candidate for such things. Their Pied Piper, on the other hand, was better at emotions, and would be able to offer their Golden Glider what support Weather Wizard was unable to.

What support Mark could offer was this: he could take her hand and lead Lisa out of the rain, towards where the two could find an apartment complex. It wasn’t difficult to pick from the many grey buildings, dreary, drab and similar looking, as there was at least one that didn’t look like it could be a health hazard. Mark made a beeline for it. He normally had better taste in potential apartments, but East End didn’t offer a lot of choice.

He held the door open for Lisa, while amber eyes turned toward the rain outside, unable to look at her when she asked her question. Was everything different now? Mark wanted to say no, because Snart still lead them and they still had their game, which was the important core of the Rogues. It would still be a bit of a lie, though, wouldn’t it? The core might be the same, but their Flash had changed and so had their Mirror Master.

“Some things are different.” Mark let his hand drop from the door once they were inside, and it swung shut behind them, its old hinges creaking in protest. He wrinkled his nose at the rust, and then looked toward the stairs that would lead them to the actual apartments. “Why don’t you pick which room we break into, Lisa?” Perhaps breaking the law would help her mood a little? He could hope.

[Golden Glider]

Lisa sniffed a little, unprepared for things to be different. She should have expected it, been more prepared. She had been dead for years; of course things were going to change. Nothing ever stayed the same and never would. Again, there was that child's wish and the stupidity that she would be able to jump right back into things. It would never happen like that since there was so much to adjust to. She had to relearn almost everything in the world.

With a small sigh, she had to accept that Hartley had moved on. He had always had a good heart. He was a good man and deserved what made him happy. If he could be a vigilante and still be good to the Rogues, she couldn't begrudge him the change. Plus, Mark was right. He didn't need to hurt anyone when he had his music. She let out a small laugh. I think I might want to see him go against you. It'd be funny to watch you dance around, The blond retorted with a little grin.

Hell, any of the boys other than James weren't big on fun so it would be great to see just that. It was a bright thought among so many that threatened to just kill her. It was amazing that she could still laugh. The skater felt like she had been through so much in such a short time that she wasn't sure she had her cheerful disposition anymore. That was thankfully untrue. It was just hiding.

While she wasn't prepared to try and dig it out just yet, she would keep all the bad stuff to a bare minimum. Being allowed to hold Mark's hand was oddly helpful. It was enough that she lost herself in thought, processing what he had told her in silence. Almost silence. She quietly hummed, finding the upbeat tune was helping her to keep from breaking down. It was strange how well music worked to help ease people. Hartley certainly had it right with his method of fighting.

Lisa blinked as she was ushered into a building, the sudden lack of rain breaking her train of thought and making her stop humming. Right, shelter for the night. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and the coat around her so they sat more securely. Her nose wrinkled a little, seeing serious signs of wear on the walls and a bit of water damage. Can we find a better place tomorrow? She asked, glancing behind her even as she started up the stairs.

A few were warped and groaned under their feet. Yeah, this was so not the place to be. The thin walls leaked noise, letting them know which ones were occupied. Lisa actually only stopped on the third floor since she hadn't found an empty one any lower. The number on the door was crooked and looked about ready to fall off. There's going to be bugs in there, She said quietly, pulling the coat tight as if it were armor. For a once hardened criminal hell bent on killing the Flash, this unnerved her. The thought of things she could easily squish under her foot bothered her more than a man bigger than her beating her up. Ridiculous, but true.

[Weather Wizard]

There was sympathy reflected behind those amber-coloured eyes, but other than banter, Mark had no real words of comfort for Lisa. He could easily recite something he had heard before, something generic, predictable and that too many people said to those upset, but he didn’t think that would actually help. In fact he thought it stupid to tell someone that everything would eventually be alright, because that was obvious and unhelpful, wasn’t it? It was obvious that Lisa would be alright in time, but it was the woman in the here and now who needed comfort.

Mark chose to continue the banter in hopes it would help, or that, if it didn’t help, it would at least distract Lisa from how there were changes in the people she knew. “I did have to suffer dancing lessons with mamá when I was little, so it would give me a use for those, at least.” He snorted at the thought, and at how little his comment actually meant in context. Pied Piper could make anyone dance well, he imagined; that was the kind of control his music had.

Not that Rathaway would make anyone dance anytime soon, as Mark had no idea where the younger man was right now. He would assume he was safe, as he was sure their Pied Piper was just that, and move on. He would move his focus back to Lisa, because she was his concern right now. She was his first concern, and coaxing her out of the rain was his second. Thankfully there were many, many apartments to choose from, even though they were far from nice.

Could they find a better place tomorrow, Lisa asked. Mark thought they definitely could. “We can scope out Gotham Heights tomorrow,” Mark said with a light shrug. That was a nicer area and had nicer apartments, at least. It was still Gotham, however, so he knew better than to except too much. Bat Country would always have a less than stellar atmosphere about it. Batman obviously didn’t do his job well, despite the multitude of people that rubbed his ego like some kind of magic eight ball.

Mark followed Lisa as she led the way up, the stairs creaking beneath her feet and groaning under his heavier weight. He grimaced and drifted closer to the rail, so he could trail a hand along it as they moved upward. If a step decided to cave beneath his feet, he wanted something to grab onto. Something that wasn’t Lisa, because that wouldn’t end well for either of them.

He stopped when Lisa did, and wrinkled his nose at the state of the door. It was possible the apartment was better kept inside, but even so, he thought they could do better tomorrow, when they could scope out Gotham Heights and choose a place amongst the upper-middle class. This was it for tonight, however. “I think we should hope there are no dead bodies; this is Gotham.” It was Gotham; where the police were horrible at clean up and the heroes weren’t much better.

With their apartment picked, Mark slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his coat, hardly concerned that Lisa was the one who wore it at the moment. He was generally polite when it came to persona space, but the coat was his; the lock picks inside the coat were his as well. With his picks retrieved, he moved to unlock the door to their new apartment. It was an old lock, but an easy one to open, even when rust made the mechanisms stiff.

The door pushed open once it was unlocked, and Mark arched an eyebrow at the interior. It was a little nicer than he expected, well kept, and obviously lived in. If it was lived in, then he and Lisa would have to deal with the home owners later into the evening, no doubt. That made it a good thing they were a couple of Rogues then, didn’t it? Neither would have a problem with tying someone up and shoving them into a closet for the night.

“Ladies first.”