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>> “Yea, a real, flying around Bat Man. Most of guys loved the guy. They figured what was the point in saving a bunch of people who had thrown their life away to begin with?”

"Hrm," Ashton commented. He too saw the crack in the gem that was that plan. Praise a guy who takes matters into his own hand, you get a thousand imitators. They couldn't all be gems. He'd read Watch Men, he'd seen Dirty Harry. Ashton knew what kinds of problems those with hero complexes had. Heck, he'd worked with some cops who thought they were God's gift to the force and acted like that. They didn't last long. One mistake was all it took, and then they tumbled long and hard. When they landed... it wasn't pretty.

The Batman had fallen. The Batman had landed. He'd landed himself in the sights of one of Miami's finest.

Ashton took a drink.

Who'd of thunk?

Cervantes' cellphone rang, interrupting the key moment.

>> “Where was I?” Cervantes asked.

"Changing your ringtone?" Ashton suggested sardonically, then added. "You were at the crucial point. The part where you had the Bat Man in your sights."

He'd seen some pretty messed up things in his time. This was one of them. It was a lot like the one before it, with the incredible inside-out man. The only difference was, this guy wasn't dead yet.

It was probably an unfortunate thing. Ashton hadn't wanted to look at the guy. A few words from the redheaded forensics girl were all he'd really needed. Inside-out, thrashing screaming unpleasantness had pretty much summed it up. He'd had to look, though. It was like a car crash. One peek led to two peeks.

Ashton turned away from the man with a look of disgust on his face.

"Consider me up-to-date on this whole thing, Anya..." He muttered to the redhead. "It's a good thing I didn't take you out for coffee before this... would have wasted a perfectly good muffin..."

The forensics investigator slapped her forehead. "Like I'd have gone with you at all..."

Ashton ignored her. His eyes had settled on someone out-of-place. The gray suit was a dead-giveaway. The woman wasn't part of the normal crowd. She had a scar on her mouth, too. Someone nudged him and whispered into his ear, 'Internal affairs'.

Ashton mouthed a miniature 'oh', then approached her gravely. "Detective Drake. Can I help you, Miss?" He stuffed his hands in his leather jacket's pockets, waiting for a response.

"Next?" came the impish reply. "To the target of the fireball? I wouldn't know. I wasn't there. The sign was, in my place." He took a sip of his Heineken, and let the story sit there for a moment, stewing in its own cool.

Okay, moment up. Back to the story.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. When I saw the charred concrete and bits of flaming cardboard where I'd been standing moments before, I knew. I'd traded places with the sign. It was gone. I wasn't. I'd transported myself out of harm's way." He chuckled to himself, and shook his head, setting his beer down, and leaning forwards in his seat.

"Well, lah dee dah.," Ashton smirked. "That's what I could do. Same as the first time it'd happened. My shoulder crashed into Gump's side before I could contemplate the comparisons between the first time my power had actually activated and the first time I'd used it and known what it was. Gump went down, bravado flickering. Cold metal on wrists was like the snuffer to his flame. He cooled down, and gave up the fight. Cuffed. I dusted off my palms, and turned to the other two.

"Dramatic line, epic turnabout," I said. They ran."

"You didn't say that..." One of the men groaned. "That's way too dramatic a one-liner to drop after all that."

"I may have said something akin to it..." Ashton arched an amused eyebrow. He couldn't pull the wool over these men's eyes for a second, now could he? Not even for an embellishment. "Fairly certain I said something, though. Might have been... 'yeah!'"

"Yeah. Sounds about right," Leroy shook his head.

The door lock clicked shut as he stepped out of the squad car. Ashton leaned against the driver's side door, surveying all he saw. It was a nice day out today. The sun was shining. From his spot parked by the path, he could see it all. Nice days attracted all sorts. Joggers, muggers, murderers, costumed superheroes, hoping to catch the previous two... women...

He was on-duty. That didn't mean Ashton couldn't watch.

His eyes settled on one in-particular as she made her way through the crowd. She looked strong, confident, and beautiful... also, rich. He shifted where he stood, uncrossing his arms. His officer senses were tingling.

Officer senses are a strange thing. Work the beat long enough, you get good at predicting certain crimes. Crowded areas, well-to-do individuals, plenty of space to run... it screamed broad daylight mugging. Just one of the many things one could predict. Criminals were predictable... and as he shifted, and the woman passed ahead of him a short distance away, one brave soul chose to prove him right.

Obviously, he hadn't seen the black and white vehicle. He must have been blind, or stupid. Foolhardy was another good term to use for him; one could not call the man bold. As he brushed past the woman's side, his hands darted clumsily towards her purse. He snatched it, and took off running.

Ashton had seen it. He was already in motion. A hand went up in front of the nice lady. Ashton aimed a confident smile her way. "Let me handle this. You, stay. Be prepared to catch something..." With that, he turned, eyes locking on the handbag. A mental image sprang up in his mind. His power went to work.

There one second, gone the next. The woman's purse dropped through the air, in Ashton's place. Ahead of her, the criminal lay, floored. Ashton was already cuffing him. One clean elbow to the face upon appearance was all it had took. He rattled off the rights in a second, just because he could, then rose, turning back towards the woman. He brushed his hands together, dusting them off.

"You're fine?" He asked. It was almost a statement.

A party crasher? Is that what the gruff man was? Ashton gestured to an empty spot at the table, and casually nodded his head. There might have been a small smirk accompanying it. "Plenty of room." He said. He didn't mind an extra audience member, especially not if it was one of New York's finest (was he?). Well, whether the guy was serious, or a policeman, a detective, or joking, it didn't really matter. Not in the long run. He was just telling a story, after all. Ashton was a storyteller. Storytellers didn't care who their audience was. The story was the thing.

"You said you were a cop, right?" He arched an eyebrow, examining the seated man beyond the rim of his glass.

Okay. Maybe who he was telling the story to mattered just a little. He wanted to know if this guy was a cop, or simply nosy and knowledgeable about precinct policemen, before he continued. All he knew about him so far was that the guy liked a good story, a good drink, and knew his name. Cervantes wasn't much to go by. He hadn't seen the man around.

One of his buddies shook his head. "Drake, haven't you heard about Cervantes? He's new."

The blond cop laughed. "Honestly, do you even pay attention at work?"

Ashton arched an eyebrow. "Well, in that case." He cleared his throat. "It's a bit of a personal story, by the way. Don't mind me if I get caught up in it..."

He liked knowing the audience knew this wasn't some idiot bragging. Cop tales were cop tales, manly and true. They weren't the sort of thing you threw around to get attention from random guys at bars.

*Snaps*

I was going to join after I finished my route, and have Ashton stop a mugging by overextending himself.

Ah well.

We'll let Aubrey decide.

Would you prefer to RP with a cop or a girl with a rather large feathered familiar? Or both?