Twenty Four Hours

October 18, 2014: Oracle tries to bench Robin for twenty four hours, and Tim agrees. Neither agrees on when the clock started ticking, despite being in the clocktower.

The Clocktower — Gotham

A locally famous landmark, the Gotham Clock Tower is located in the Central
Business District. Tours haven't run in years, though, since the building was
bought out by a group of bird-lovers known as the Nightingale Society. Still,
it's a well-known part of the Downtown skyline. From the outside it looks
unused, but the clock is clearly maintained as it still runs on time, and now
and again people can be seen coming and going. The bottom floor looks mostly
disused, with a long hallway ending in a bookshelf full of coffee table books
about birds. To either side of the hall are sparsely furnished rooms. The
walls show illustrations of local Gotham feathery sorts, and charts on bird
migrations. Cabinets store various bits of bird-watching equipment.

The doors to the stairs require a key card to access, probably to deter
vandalism. The upper floors are only accessible by a secret elevator. The
doorways to access it them the stairs have been bricked over and drywalled.
On the living quarters floor, each door requires a keycard and voice
recognition, except for the door to the training facility at the end of the
hall, which requires palm, optical, and voice recognition. The top floor,
however, is the most secure of all.

The pale glow of the four massive translucent clock-faces dominate the four
compass points of the lair, casting everything in a warm light by night, and
cool light by day. the natural brick walls of the buildings exterior are left
visible on one wall while the others are painted a pristine white. The
ceilings have recessed and track lighting, and the floors are smooth pale
wood. There is a lounge area and even a kitchen, as well as other facilities
here. The insulation around the top floor is meant to keep scanners and
eavesdropping equipment from being able to image what's inside.

Mainframes and back-up generators line most of the walls in rooms of clear
glass kept from overheating with with high-tech coolant systems. In front of
one clock face is an enormous computer system laid out on a long, custom
desk, lower than average, just the right height for Oracle's wheelchair.
There is a command chair for use when needed, which slides on rails along the
length of the desk. A huge bank of monitors are arrayed in a horseshoe shape
around the desk, with the ability to form one large picture or individual
smaller ones.



  • None

Mood Music:

The twitch of Tim’s muscles signifies he’s waking up minutes before his eyes begin to flutter. His sleep had been relatively peaceful, mostly because it’d been somewhat artificial thanks to the sleeping tablets running through his system. Groggily, his eyes open up, and then he shakes his head, clearing out the cobwebs from his brain, albeit not quite successfully. A gloved palm rubs his eyes. His eyebrows draw together and he scrunches his nose.

A tap is given to the mask on his face. Did he doze off in his Robin clothes again? A glance is given to the saline drip at his hand, and then, immediately, he sits up with a start and that distinct where am I feeling people often get when they sleep somewhere that is not their room. He tugs at his wrist and inhales a sharp breath. A glance is given around the room. Carefully, he draws his hand away from the now-dozing Steph. He’d been out a longer stretch than usual.

Slowly, quietly, he shifts on the bed, pushing himself up from the stretcher, and gives the IV a tug. He draws it out and then silently bandages the puncture at his wrist. He rolls off the bed carefully. And gives a glance towards the door, but he doesn’t make motions to go through it, instead, he reaches for his belt and tools – a bird can never be without his accessories – and equips himself for patrol. He shoots Steph a soft smile and hesitates a moment before deciding not to wake her. He treads away from the medical area, and shifts into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. It’s possible that he hasn’t slept that long in years, or, at least, since the last time he was seriously injured.

The kettle is switched on, and the instant coffee is poured into the mug while Robin’s eyes train on the kettle itself. A tug is given on the mask, letting go of Robin and giving way to blue-eyed Tim, and Tim runs his fingers across the now-present lines on his face. He frowns. So much for not having pillow marks.

He rubs his eyes, thankful for relief away from Robin, if only from the mask and not the rest of Robin's clothes. His chin drops, and he inspects himself with a vague frown. "Get it together, Tim," he mutters before shaking his head.

A glance is given to the clock on the stove: too early for their to be light yet. Evidently even sleeping tablets couldn't completely change his need for such little amounts of sleep. The door is cast a longing look.

The noise in the kitchen brings Oracle out from her monitoring room, thinking it was Spoiler finally coming to her senses. Oracle probably needs less sleep than Robin, and it's possible she hasn't seen any this night.

Stopping when she gets close to the kitchen, Oracle shakes her head "If I had realised you would shake off the sleeping tablets that easily, I wouldn't have undone the restraints." she says quietly. Then noting the cup of coffee he's making she adds "I would really prefer you don't undo my good work by drinking that right now."

"Sit down, Tim. You aren't going anywhere tonight." Quiet, implacable.

There's a flicker of a smile at her comment and Tim shakes his head, "I'm more coffee than I am person these days," his voice is raspy from the sleep, not cleared out by chatter or coffee. He lazily rubs his eyes, "Can't I have one indulgence in my life?" There's a rather pregnant pause and he notes, "I feel fine."

He's so used to insisting on feeling fine, that even Tim can't tell if he's lying. Whether he feels fine or not is inconsequential to going out though.

"I haven't missed a night since school started up again. And besides, Nightwing or Batman could need me — " and then, a little more insistent, he adds, "I really do feel fine. Not a big deal. Really." And then, a little more convincingly, he adds, "Rested, even. I bet I look right as rain."

There's no question Tim looks better than when he'd laid down on the bed in the first place. He has some of his usual colour back, his skin isn't sticky from moisture, and he's no longer shivering. Right as rain, however, really is a stretch.

"I said sit down. And since you won't listen to a request, I'm telling you 'No Coffee' tonight." It's not often Oracle uses a voice of authority, but there it is.

"I've already sent a message to Batman and Nightwing telling them you're unavailable for a few days…." holding up her hand to forestall any protest "I didn't give any reason, I don't have to." She quirks an eyebrow and nods to the chair near him.

Oracles voice softens as she explains "Tim, you have been drugged and the effects nearly had you killing Spoiler. Before I let you back on the street, I need to be certain you are clear. Or more people will be hurt next time."

Oracle is still waiting on the full results of the blood tests she ordered, but she has a good idea of what they're dealing with.

"Yeah, like Dick is going to leave that one alone," Tim mutters as he relinquishes the coffee cup to the sink albeit very begrudgingly. "Or Bruce for that matter." With a sigh, he slides to a chair at the table and finally rolls off his second gauntlet.

There's a pause as he looks over his shoulder back towards the medical wing, "She's okay though," the words are somewhere between a statement and a question. He actually begins to slide out of the chair to go confirm this statement-question but stops himself. "Yeah, she's fine," he decides as he'd just been holding her hand. "And I've never killed anyone. S'not allowed." Hallucinations or not.

"I feel fine," he reiterates and then sighs. "Seriously." He sighs — a frustrated, nearly empty sound. "I'm not getting benched for -days- because of this. Honestly. My head is clear. I'm fine."

"Besides, am I not supposed to even go to school either? Because you're going to get really tired of me really quickly." Possibly purposely.

"You got lucky that Spoiler that was with you Tim. I watched her bring you here, you could have easily killed someone whilst you were under the influence of those drugs."

Watching him look to the Med Bay, she waits for his attention "Spoiler is fine. She and I have words to say, but she's very concerned about you and I'm not pushing the issue."

Oracle moves her chair out into an open area and pulls her escrima sticks from it, holding them at the ready. "You think you're fine? Prove it to me."

Skeptically, Tim watches Babs for a few moments. "Words to say? Something happened while I was sleeping?" his blue eyes are watchful. He seems to ease some, however, when Babs confirms that Spoiler is fine, despite his previous near-certainty.

"And I'm fine. Honestly. Totally fine." His fingers tap against the table. "Look, I'm not going to hurt anyone. I'm Robin and not even close to being the best of the bunch. And Batman has no qualms about making sure I know that."

With a semi-exasperated sigh, he slides off the chair. "What am I even trying to prove? That we disagree that I'm fine?" he asks as he plucks his gauntlet from the table. The glove is slide over his hands and he inhales a deep breath.

His hand tugs at the compressed staff at his belt and he shakes it once, causing it to extend to its full length. He steps into the clear area, and quite naturally, his muscles remember their stance. His feet part to shoulder width. The staff is held comfortably in two hands, and he can almost sense the world around him with his proffered tool. There's no question, the staff is his favourite tool. There's a pause, "Am I supposed to attack you, or…?" But even with the question, he's at the ready.

"You prove to me that you can get past me, and I'll mark you as clear. You get to walk out that door, and I offer no more assistance. You don't and…. you stay." Oracle says softly "Or, you give me 24 hours more, we run some tests and we work it out together."

Oracle suddenly looks very tired. Maybe it's the fact she's had no sleep and has been worrying herself stupid over Tim, whilst dealing with a snarky teenage girl.

Tim's weight shifts indecisively from one foot to the other. He turns the staff over in his grasp, spinning it once just to get a feel for it. His indecision continues for a few beats, still watching her with rapt attention. There's no question he's always been more of a thinker than a fighter. The staff is lowered and shrug back to an acceptable size to attach to his belt.

His eyes flit towards the control room, just so Babs can get the full meaning of his words. "Everyone's okay tonight?" He sighs. "Fine. 24 hours. But from when I got here, not from now." He watches her expectantly. "Look. Figuring it out is good anyways. We need strategies to deal with it if it happens again. Batman has a filter in the nose of his cowl. We don't have that in our masks, maybe it's something that we need to invest in…"

And then finally an admission: "I thought it'd worn off. I would've said something if it seemed… I dunno… relevant," there's a softness in his tone at the last; a mistake identified and admitted to. "I got zapped and it brought me back to reality last time. The Harley lookalike's people," because they were indeed her 'people', "offered to take me to their medical facility. I refused in order to keep our secrets safe. And when I got back to Gotham it seemed silly to check in with Doctor Thompkins. Honestly."

Oracle looks visibly relieved. Sighing as she replaces the escrima sticks in her chair, she regards Tim seriously. "I've no doubt, but what you did was beyond foolish. 24 hours from now, Tim. I'm not negotiating."

"You've given me someplace else to look, by the way. Maybe it will give us some answers."

"Now come, back to bed with you, I want you back on the drip to flush your system faster. We'll talk further in the morning."

"Well I won't be staying until 24 hours from now," Tim says stubbornly, but not defiantly. In fact, it's more matter-of-fact than challenging. Evidently this sparring session will happen. Just not now. "And really, foolish or not, the first time I snapped out of it no problem. It's been like a week — for it to flare back up…" he shrugs. "I suspect I'd be the same on any hallucinogen." he just needs to remember he's been extremely well-trained as a weapon against villains and super villains.

Despite the disagreement about how long he's staying, he gives ascent to the last. He may as well sleep if he's stuck anyways, but he pauses. "If I am here for twenty-four hours… I think I have a change of clothes in the Redbird," he pauses. "Where did I park that car?" he mutters to himself as he treads back towards the medical bay. "If I can remember, I can get it here," thanks to remote functions. With a small sigh, he disappears back towards the medical area.

Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License