Batarangs

Summary:
December 16, 2014: Nightwing visits Oracle to discuss Batarangs and Misfit. Tim visits as well.

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.


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:


It's been an interesting 24 hours. There was a reason why Dick wore his Academy Uniform as he made his way to the Clocktower, a certain weapon tucked into a pocket, hidden from view. However, it's why he's come to see Oracle. He let Tim know that he was on the way even before he called Barbara…after all, he didn't want to be coming in when others might be able to link the two personas.

Making his way to the 'public' entrance, he made sure to show himself in the cameras before letting himself it. He's going to make sure this is done the 'right' way…right now.

***

Babs sees Dick enter the building and heads to the Kitchen to make tea… and perhaps coffee. She's not expecting him, or anyone, so she's a little surprised that he's there. Taking out cups, putting the water on to boil, the redhead turns her chair and waits for him to enter.

***

Tim Drake-Wayne is an average jogger. Layers of clothing, including thick jogging pants and a grey hoodie, protect him from Gotham's chilly weather. The hood is drawn over his head as a layer of protection. The sunglasses perched on his nose are drawn off as he nears the public entrance of the clock tower. A quick salute to the cameras has not-Robin inside and climbing the stairs.

Once inside, he makes himself at home at the table. His blue eyes flit about the room; it feels strangely foreign, yet simultaneously familiar.

***

"Nice look, Rocky," is offered to Tim as he arrives in his workout gear. "Feeling ok?" Dick then turns to Oracle and pulls a Batarang out of his pocket. It's a slightly older style…certainly not the ones in use now. It's held out to the other, "Your protege was using these when we came across her last night…which is why I asked if you had given them to her. If you didn't…how did she get them? I'm not sure I believe that more than one was ever left at a crime scene to be scavenged."

***

Babs smiles as not-Robin enters but as Dick has asked the question she gestures to the cups "Tea, Coffee, Soda?" Dick gets a flat look, "Good afternoon, Dick. Would you like a cup of coffee?" there's a level of steel under the pleasant tone she uses. Looking at the batarang, she raises an eyebrow and turns back to make herself tea.

***

"Hey Babs," the redhead is shot a toothy grin. Tim hrms quietly. "Just water, I think. Trying to cut back on the caffeine."

"It's cold outside!" Tim croaks defensively as he tugs on the back of the hood, prompting his hair to stand on end. His fingers work at ruffling his hair further, almost like its intended to be mussed, and finally earning a remark, "I really need a haircut." A very boyish, extremely lopsided, grin is cast towards the police cadet, "Yeah. I'm oh-kay. Trying to find my rhythm again."

His lips twist to the side as Dick points out the batarang. "Yeaaaah," he runs a hand through his hair again, "I'm more worried about the outfit. The kid," like she's much younger than him, "needs kevlar." He swallows hard. "No amount of training can protect a person from bullet wounds." Robin would know. His lips purse.

"Afternoon, Barbara. I'm sorry to just dump this on you, but I don't know this Lady Blackhawk who is the other one she's apparently working with, and I trust -you-." Dick sets the batarang on the table before he rubs his face, "I can get myself some coffee, thank you."

Tim gets a raised eyebrow and a smirk, "Haircuts are easy. You can always have Alfred give you a buzz-cut." The smirk fades though at the mention of the girl, "The 'kid' is far too cocky and is in for a hell of a wake-up call. I can't deny her reasons for doing this, but something doesn't sit right with me. It's like she's just far too eager to be hurting people."

***

"I'm already here, Dick" Babs responds as she makes her tea and prepares coffee for Dick. Finishing the task, she takes the cups to the table. "You're looking much better, Tim… and yes, Alfred can do the hair cut or you might like to treat yourself a little." the redhead smiles at the teen. "Sorry, I forgot your water, please, help yourself." Pleasantries done, Babs looks at the Batarang and back to the two men, pursing her lips.

She shrugs "It's not so hard to believe the GPD have collected Batarangs over time, Dick. Have you checked for yourself, I'm sure you have access to the records. Of course, if you like" she smiles grimly "I could just access them myself." Babs pauses as she takes time to enjoy her tea "I will look into her costume, I really didn't want her on the streets just yet but … she's young and as long as she checks in with me, I can mostly keep her out of trouble. Maybe she is cocky, but it's kept her alive."

***

/Barbara/, Tim mouths the name and arches a wry eyebrow at Dick that prompts him to tuck his sunglasses into his pocket. He slides into the kitchen and nabs himself a glass of water, but fails to walk back to the table, instead opting to sit on the counter top. Yeah, old habits die hard.

The mention of how he looks wins Babs a dimpled grin followed by a shrug. "Thanks." A glance is cast back to Dick, "I don't want it buzzed; I'd like it to look, I dunno, like I care or something." He raises a palm defensively, "Not that I'm trying to impress anyone. Definitely not. Those days are long gone. School, work, night job." He nods firmly at this fact.

Back on the topic of Misfit, he can't help but cringe a little, "I trust your judgment, but…" having just gone through a round of physical therapy, "… it's hard to predict who does or doesn't have a weapon. Or what they have. Or how many rounds them have…"

***

"If the GPD has them, then they're evidence. They're not something that's accessible to the general public, much less a teenager. Why do you mention what they might have in their evidence lockers?" Dick -could- check…and he may check just to see what weaponry they have from them. "I think she's going to be out on the streets whether you say so or not. I also don't like that she's willing to lie so easily."

He looks over to Tim and nods, "Even if you give her kevlar, she just doesn't seem to understand the danger. Is she invincible, like Superman then?"

***

"You two take the cake… you know that?" Babs tone is mild but there's a level of irritation seeping in. "You trust my judgement…. but…." she stops, sips her tea and takes a deep breath. "Let's get this straight. Charlie will be on the streets doing what she's doing whether we like it or not. I will try to keep her safe and I won't be able to do that if I come down hard and forbid things." She sighs "I know Tim, she won't know who's got a weapon but … " she shakes her head again "if I can't stop her, I can look after her." Dick gets a faintly amused look "Where do you think she got them? You've seen her ability… do you really think that things are in 'evidence lockup' would stop her." Babs smirks just a little "I'm tempted to ask her to retrieve all of them so we can remove any Bat evidence from scenes." She quirks an eyebrow, she's baiting Dick and she knows it.

***

"Hey," Tim holds up both of his hands in surrender. "I haven't exactly had awesome judgment lately, but I'm working on it, and trying to — " whatever he's trying to do is lost to the ether as the teen runs a hand through his hair. "And there's no critique here." His blue eyes widen, "Just the caution that accompanies a month of rehabilitation." Eyes flicker between the pair and he slides off the counter while he downs the glass of water. "Look… I can go if you two want to… discuss this…?" he squints.

***

Dick Grayson takes his coffee mug and starts to pace the room, scowling into the mug for a bit. Finally, he lifts the mug to his lips and then turns to Babs, "If you have her do that, one, do NOT tell me that you did…and two, do NOT let her use that weaponry on the streets. If even one gets retrieved and it's discovered to be missing evidence, she'll be marked by the cops too." He's trying here!

There's a shake of his head, "Apparently there's nothing to discuss. What we think doesn't matter. Babs is going to do what she's going to do and she'll just keep us informed if she wants to inform us."

***

Babs looks apologetically at Tim "I know Tim, it's a raw subject… You were in a similar spot not so long along remember? Stay, please, I like your company." Looking to Dick, Babs laughs "Of course I wouldn't get her to do that… I'm not stupid, but you really do ask the most obvious of questions sometimes. I will speak to her about it and get her kit of her own." and then she frowns "I really don't understand Dick… what's the problem now?"

***

Tim continue to squint in Dick's direction, but offers no further comment. Instead, he nods towards Babs as he lifts himself back onto the countertop. While he could continue to remark on these things, Robin has a bit of a new lease on life, and instead tries to change the subject. "So. I think we should talk Christmas. I think Alfred wants to cook. It can be Christmas Eve or whatever to accommodate people, but I'd really like everyone there this year — " His lips press together tightly. "Bruce and I aren't really chatty these days — " his eyes turn towards the sink " — but it's the holidays and stuff and people are supposed to be with family and… yeah."

***

"It's not a bad idea," Dick admits in regards to getting their stuff out of any evidence lockers. "I just can't be a part of it…or have any knowledge of it." There's a pause then, "The problem is I just don't trust her." But that's probably his issue now.

When Tim brings up Christmas and ably changes the subject, he allows himself to go along. "Name the date and I'll do my best to be there."

***

"Trust is earned…" Babs replies to Dick "And you're just cynical… jaded even." Dropping the subject, Babs looks over to Tim and sighs "I'm going to Dads on Christmas Day and have plans for the afternoon… Can we do it Christmas Eve? You know I'll want to be there. And I promise I won't cook." The redhead smiles. "Did you want to come with me to my Dads, Tim?" Sipping her tea, Babs watches the Teen carefully.

***

"It's decided then!" Tim might be a little too keen on this. One too many abandoned Christmases have had their effect over the years. "I'll talk to Alfred and we'll do Christmas Eve." He glances between the pair and arches an eyebrow, "We can invite Cass too?" There's a pause. "One rule though: no arguing. It's Christmas. I kind of promised Alfred we'd be a functional family…" Or some version thereof.

The grin grows at the invite, "I'd love to come as long as I'm not stepping on important family things — "

***

Ouch. The invitation…or lack thereof isn't lost on Dick. "Cass…the girl who's living here with you?" is asked of Babs as that's the last time…and first time…he saw the other girl. He murmurs into his coffee then, "Better make sure there's a lot of booze in that eggnog…" before he offers, a little louder, "I'll be there…and then I'll go out on that night's patrol."

There's a sigh then, "I know I'm cynical and jaded. I just see a lot going wrong. Trust has to be earned, you're right. It can't be assumed," which is what he obviously feels is going on.

***

"Cass… yes… might be living here, or not" Babs frowns a bit "She comes and goes as she pleases. She stays with a friend mostly, but bunks down here when it's convenient. We can invite her though, Tim." Knowing the young woman, Babs won't say she'd be thrilled… Cass doesn't exhibit much emotion. Bab sighs "A functional family argues, Tim" Bab smirks a little "They just aren't armed and trained like we are." Dicks last response gets a frown "I'm not asking you to trust Charlie, Dick. I'm asking you to trust me… is that too much to ask?" Babs sighs as she turns her attention to her tea.

***

Awkwardness abounds, and Tim isn't into it. Not today, anyways, which could be why another course correction follows. "Uh…" he starts and then tries to blaze passed it again. "Right! Alright, we will invite Cass," his palms rub together lightly. "I'll get a tree this week, folks can come decorate it or I'll do it myself. It's fine either way. I'm pretty sure…" he squints again "…I don't think mom and dad ever helped. Huh." He shrugs. No point dwelling on the past. "I can get Alfred to help probably. And uh… it'll be fun. Just remember how fun it'll be. I won't cook though. I'll just act as chef's assistant." He runs a hand through his hair.

***

"I trust you completely, Babs," Dick answers quickly. "I don't think anything can change that." Well, things -could-, but he's not going to dwell on that. "Enough about Charlie. I'm done giving her my time in my thoughts." He also turns his attention to his coffee and works on the mug. He listens to Tim go on about the tree and finally murmurs something about needing to go shopping. "I'm sure Alfred already has a menu planned."

***

Babs looks at Dick with that almost too quick response and sighs. Tims response has her laughing "If you would like help with tree, I'll come over." Seeing Tim recover is high on her priority list, and if a little tree decorating is what it takes…. "And I'm sure Alfred would love the help in the kitchen." Sipping her tea, which is nearly finished, a small frown creases her brow "How did your finals go, Tim? I've rather lost track of time."

***

Tim runs a hand over his chin. "You're right, I'm pretty sure Alfred plans menus in his sleep," he replies to Dick with a boyish grin. He emits a soft sigh at the mention of finals, "I did well. I…" his cheeks flush. "…should've done better though. Honestly, my studying at the end there was rough at best. But I came out with mostly acceptable grades. Even by Jack's," always in dad's shadow, "standards." His eyebrows draw together. "One B+. In organic chem. I don't even know why I'm taking organic chem."

***

"Speaking of…" Tim glances down at his cell phone. "I actually gotta run to confirm next semester's classes." He sucks on the inside of his cheek, "Don't tell anyone but I'm considering pre-med. Maybe." His nose wrinkles. "If I can hack it. The hours would probably be easier with the night job…" With a small grin he slides off the counter, "Thanks for the water. I'll give you a call and we can figure out tree-decorating-times. Sound good?" Even before the response, Tim is treading to the door. Registration waits for no one.

***

"And the rest were all A's, I'm guessing," Dick offers with a grin, but Tim's already out. He looks after the other for a moment before turning back to Babs, "I should probably head out as well…have to get ready for patrol this evening." Maybe get a little sleep in. He finishes off the coffee, puts the mug in the sink, and then turns back, "Look…I'm sorry. You're right…I'm cynical and jaded…and it's probably a good idea for me to just not get all up in your business for a while. I'm always around to help if you want, but I won't butt in. Just let me know if you need me, all right?" And with that, he leaves the batarang with Babs and moves towards the door.

***

"Do that Tim" Babs calls to the teen as he heads out the door "And congrats on the results." she's already thinking of a way to help him recognise just how great he had done. Then Dick takes his leave and she blinks and then sighs. "If you feel that way Dick. I'll let Nightwing know if I need help, but don't feel you have to be a stranger." The look on Babs' face indicates she really does not understand why he is behaving as he is. As he leaves, she drinks down the last of her tea and sits staring at the cup for a while.


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